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xkseii · 2 years ago

Text

⎮Auf die Knie.⎮

⏤ Characters: Micheal Kaiser⎮reader

⏤ Including: nsfw (-17)

⏤ Warnings: can contain spoiler (chap 149+), sub! Kaiser, top! Male reader, happy ending, unclear feelings, rough interactions but soft sex, implied mind-breaking and character passing out

⏤ 8.000 words

He was driving you insane.

This man, this arrogant blonde bitch was dragging out the worst part of you. Around him, you were getting more violent, losing your patience, having the brutal and uncontrollable urge to crush and devour him. You wonder if his only purpose wasn't to make players lose their mind or get a good fight out of them.

Many things about him were pissing you off, you didn't know what exactly, as Michael Kaiser was just so irritating and provocative all the time. Maybe it was his attitude, his actions, or the way he was talking to everyone as if they were inferior to him.

One thing was sure about him, Kaiser was the best at making you lose your cool, and giving you the urge to grab him by his thin neck and destroy is unique pretty face.

You wanted to crush him, making him choke on his damn hateful words and make him stop being such a rude bastard.

The German prodigy, was someone that you resented immensely.

It all started at the first day of the Neo Egotist League.

You had options about which team you wanted to evolve with, and so, just like Isagi, you picked the German team as Noel Noa was your idol. And only some minutes after, you met one of the most powerful team in the world, including the player you idolized the most, and the one you would grow to hate.

This team was based on logic and rationality, and as their first test, Noa decided to create a huge race, with five zones to test your physical abilities.

Soon enough, just like everyone else, you were waiting on the starting line, waiting for the countdown to reach zero. The colossal metallic doors in front of you were wide open, and when the shrieking noise pierced through your ears, you jumped forward, running as fast as you could. It was your only occasion to reach your dream, which was to become the best striker in the world, the main protagonist, and you would do anything to achieve that goal.

You trained your body for months, years for this, and without any surprise, you ended up following close behind the players of Germany, only one step before Kunigami.

You were pushing yourself past your limits, your muscles were burning up, only wanting to go faster, jump higher and farther.

Your only goal was to catch up with number 10. He was running ahead of you, in front of everyone else, his speed more than incredible. You raced the first, second, and third zone without any difficulty, but you ended up losing too much time on the fourth one, though you were still second. And when you finally reached the final zone, only one player finished the race already, at least that's what the screen next to you was telling you, as it displayed the name “Kaiser” in first place.

Not losing your determination, you went faster, rushing to pass the only player in front of you, hoping to reach the second place.

The final zone was an easy one, you only had to dribble and shoot onto a giant target. Your speed and technique made you win some seconds, and before you knew it, you were in the shoot zone, aiming at the immense target.

You were so sure of yourself, knowing that it was an effortless shot for you and would get a high score without any doubt, if he wasn't in your way. Mid-air, someone shot down your ball, diverting its course. You, thankfully, had the reflex to move quickly and kick it again, able to reach the high score zone as you painfully twisted your ankle.

Breathless, you turned in the direction the other ball came from, glaring at the guy that tried to sabotage your shot. He was here, with his blonde and blue hair, sharp blue eyes staring down at you in disdain, number 10. You locked eyes, jaw clenching as he offers you the most pretentious and flaunty look you ever seen.

Your blood was boiling, you didn't know what was his problem, but he was really getting on your nerves. From his smug smirk, to his oh-so proud face, and the way he was speaking to you as if you were a dog, he was definitely asking to be punched directly in the face.

He even took the time to pose, as if he was playing a big role in a well-known theatre, acting all high and mighty, worse thing is that he looked ridiculous as hell from your perspective. But even though he was risible, he still managed to hit a nerve. He tells you with his most irritating voice to kneel in front of him, making fun of your physical abilities and how you almost missed your shot, when you arrived just after him and he was the one that sabotaged your perfect shot.

What pissed you off the most, was how deliberately used your first name, trying to show off that he was superior to you. Especially when he only gave you his last name.

Unfortunately for them, you can understand German perfectly and can also speak it, though you made the choice to keep quiet as the rest of the German team reached the end, Blue Lock's players still far behind.

Number 8 showed up along with number 13, exchanging words with the arrogant blonde man, talking as if you weren't here. Though, you weren't supposed to understand German so, it was quite obvious why he wasn't talking to you directly. The number 8, named Ness, wasn't that bad, as he was just acting like a puppy, listening to Kaiser as he was making fun of Blue Lock.

You were listening, disgusted by his attitude as he was supposed to be the ones training you, or at all try to train you all. He was especially talking about how everyone in Blue Lock was physically weak, as if two players didn't finish the race before all his team.

It was irking you to listen to this bitch spouting out nonsense, but it wasn't your problem in the first place if the rest wasn't physically capable of keeping up. You were supposed to think about yourself only, and speaking up to defend everyone else was the complete opposite. They have to prove their worth, it wasn't your place to do it.

Though, when that number 13, Gesner, took the time to insult you in front of your face, you oh-so politely told him to go fuck himself, using your best German intonation. The players that were the closest to you stopped in the middle of their conversations, looking over at you in shock, clearly glaring straight at Gesner.

Ness, that was coming in your direction to give you a micro-interpreter stopped dead in his track, flushing red as he asks you if you understood everything they said. When you replied yes, most of them looked away embarrassed, getting caught being straight up rude and insulting someone was awkward and shameful. The ones that didn't say anything derogatory were snickering on the side, patting you on the back before going back to what they were saying.

You still motioned for Ness to give you the device, ignoring the rest. Kaiser clicked his tongue, annoyed by how quick you forgot about him or his provocations. He stepped closer, wanting to grab you by the jaw but Isagi and the rest of Blue Lock showed up at the same time.

You watched the same show go down again, Kaiser grinning as he blocked Isagi's shot. Unfortunately for this one, he was too shocked to do anything but look at the man. Kaiser did his bold and rude little speech, before Ness finally decided to give them the micros, even they didn't understand everything he said, it was quite obvious he was ridiculing them.

The insolent prodigy continued his little scene, attracting all the spotlight on him while you were waiting on the side, bored and angry, but not caring this much about his overdramatic and self-centred act. It was just annoying how he was wasting your time by doing this. And you were more than happy when Noa showed up, putting Kaiser back in his place, and also calling him childish. You couldn't help but turn around to chuckle, hiding your laughter as Ness was glaring at you.

Noa introduced his team's philosophy and how your only way to become regulars was to have a good ranking. A giant screen appearing behind him, showing off the last 6 players, slowly moving up to the top. It surprised everyone when Kunigami arrived in 4th position, beating 9 of the German players, and you in 2nd.

Without any surprise, Kaiser was first, grinning like a maniac. His expression was eery, sending shivers down your spine as he looked down at you, those presumptuous and cocky eyes staring directly at your soul. Those seconds seemed endless as you were scrutinizing each other in tense silence, before Noa left the room followed by everyone else, forcing you to look away and catch up with your friends.

Soon enough, the training days started, and too focused on getting better, you didn't care much about Kaiser. You were certain that you won't have to interact with him at all during those days, or at least only a moderate amount of time.

Sadly for you, you couldn't choose with whom you would share a room, as it was based on your previous results. The rooms were made for 4 persons; the problem was, you were 23 persons including Noa, which mean that here would be a room of 3, and obviously, it was for the top 2 and Noa.

That's how you ended up sharing a room with Kaiser and the current best striker in the world. It would certainly be easy to share a room with a guy that never shows emotion, and the other one that has a superiority complex and the bad habit to degrade everyone…

It was hell.

It was only the start of the practice, and yet, you already felt like either quitting or killing the tattooed blonde. He was insufferable, not only Kaiser was always making snarky remarks about you or Isagi, but he had many annoying habits, which you were forced to live with.

You didn't know what was worse between cohabiting or training with him. Whatever you were doing, he was here, always so proud after effectively pissing you off, smug and arrogant as he chuckles lowly.

Kaiser didn't know how bad you wanted to make that smirk disappear from his face, punch him, grab him by his hair and smash his head against the ground, or purposely break his ankle during a match.

Maybe, it was better that he didn't know.

Thankfully for you, your second roommate wasn't this bad or punchable. Noa was more on the calm and quiet side, more reclusive, practising alone in the evening, barely talking to you or Kaiser, except when he was telling him to shut up.

At least, that was the first days, before you managed to yank out some words out of his mouth. Slowly but surely, you tried to have some conversations with him, always stopping when he seemed a bit uncomfortable or when he needed to go practice. He had a really strict schedule after all, and he would never be one minute late, from his training to what he was doing in his free time, he was always doing something that was keeping his good form.

At some point, you broke his façade, becoming good friends and finally being trusted enough to spend time with you. Not only now you weren't always alone with Kaiser in the room, but you had the opportunity to train with Noa. Being able to practice every evening with one of the best football player in the world was a blessing, and your already high physical abilities have been multiplied, making you a fierce rival for Kaiser.

You were progressing much faster than with the previous training, highly annoying Kaiser, and with this intense training, you weren't seeing him more than once a day. Though it made you extremely happy, something felt wrong. You knew it would bother Kaiser, but it impacted much more than you thought it would.

You couldn't count how many times he glared at you when you enter the room, just freshly getting out of the shower, body still wet with water drops running down your torso, his eyes following your every movement with a scowl on his face. Noa would always enter the room some seconds after you, being welcomed by Kaiser clicking his tongue loudly, snarling when the tall man would look at him.

And this situation would repeat itself again and again, every night after your daily training.

The atmosphere was tense, to say the least; not only the competition to get into the top 11 was intense and brutal, but the hostility looming inside this room could kill anyone on the spot.

If the rivalry between you and Kaiser was strong, the one between him and Isagi was worse, and only increasing as the day go by. The difference of level was considerable. Isagi couldn't even take back the ball from Kaiser during the one-touch minigame training, he was continuously running after him, and always one step behind.

It started an inside competition, each goal, action, or pass needed to be cancelled by the other. And you had no idea how, but you ended up in the middle of this cat fight too, much to Noa's amusement, that you would see snickering on the side.

It wasn't better between Noa and Kaiser though, which was always snarling at him, ready to jump. You didn't know what happened between them, but one thing was sure, you weren't even thinking about getting in between them, you weren't this crazy and delirious to try.

Despite clearly disliking the other, Kaiser started to join you to your night training, insisting on being here every time, still acting superior at any occasion he had, even though Noa would shut him down whenever he hears him brag or degrade someone.

But what surprised you the most, was how nice he was sometimes, giving you advices, placing himself behind you to show you the best movement or position you're supposed to be in. Kaiser was genuinely helping you get better, and under Noa's supervision, you were sure that he wasn't doing it just to make fun of you. He went as far as showing you how you were supposed to massage your legs after training, or what exercises were better depending on your capacities.

And before you know it, after days and days of spending some hours with them, Kaiser became almost tolerable.

He was still pissing you off immensely, but you got used to him and his habits, his way of speaking, and sometimes, you were able to discern the hidden compliments he would give. It was all about him insulting one of your passes, commenting on a goal you made, the small towel he would throw in your face just after you get out of the shower, or your water bottle that was always filled to the top despite having drank all of it an hour ago.

Kaiser was terrible, but he wasn't as bad as you thought.

After the days of training, it was time for your first match with this team, if you were chosen as a regular. And much to your pleasure, you were one of the starting member along with Kunigami.

During the match, you didn't know what shocked the rest of the players the most: how only two persons of Blue Lock got into the team, or how you were so complementary with Kaiser's playstyle. You were perfectly synchronized, moving at the same time, the same actions, using similar techniques, and you were understanding each other perfectly without talking after hours of training together every evening.

Kaiser's execution system has been, unknowingly to both of you, adjusted so you could play together, letting you become a perfect addition in the team's system.

This match was going in the most perfect and impressive way, the flow shared between each player was superb, despite Kunigami trying to become a protagonist over you and Kaiser, the rhythm stayed unchanged.

At least, it was this way until Isagi showed up on the field, cancelling passes and goal, blocking him own teammates, breaking the rhythm and synchronization of the entire team. And before you knew it, he was blocking your counterattack with Kaiser, which definitely wrecked everything and gave him the opportunity to score a goal.

To say the team was mad would be an understatement, Kaiser and Ness were especially furious, and you were livid yourself. All this work, for him to steal the spotlight. Next time, you will destroy him on the field.

You barely had the time to talk with Ness before everyone left, you could feel just by sharing your opinion on the match how enraged he was. His jaw was clenched and had crazy eyes, glaring at Isagi and Kunigami's back, sending shivers down your spine. Though, he gave you a half smile, since you played with his King, Kaiser, instead of doing everything alone.

The walk back into the locker room was tense, no words exchanged between the players despite the victory. It's only when you started to undress and cool down that some started to talk, mostly benched people and three persons from the regular team, the rest was dead silent.

You went into the shower room quickly, locking your stall door as the glacial water hits your back, calming you down, tension and pressure disappearing. Your blood was still boiling, you needed to evacuate the pent-up rage but didn't know how, the need to hit something or someone gets bigger.

You inhale and exhale deeply, quickly finishing cleaning you up before leaving the stall, a towel wrapped around your waist and another resting on your shoulders. You noticed how you forgot your clothes, and take the direction of the locker room, meeting Kaiser on the way, also just coming out of the shower, but with his short on.

He shameless looked at you up and down, hiding his smirk with a snarky remark like always, his arms wrapping around the middle of your back as he walks with you to the locker room.

Bursts of voices could be heard from afar, and you easily recognized the voice of Isagi and Yukimiya, fighting over the spot of regular and how it wasn't fair for Isagi to play. You could only sigh, already feeling tired by their bickering, missing how Kaiser was looking at you amused, unable to hide his growing grin.

Though, he quickly got back into character, entering the room as if he was royalty, delivering a questionable speech to those present in the room. He tries to get Yukimiya on his side, or more precisely, make Isagi lose one of his ally. You knew too well how he didn't care about them, but just wanted to create trouble and entertain himself, using the jealousy of the soon-to-be blind player as his weapon.

His speech was more than boring for you, as you simply entered the room to take your clothes before exiting it immediately. You rest against the nearby wall, just wanting to see how it was going to end, watching with crossed arms as Kaiser gives his supposed advices, a beguiled look on his face.

Despite Kaiser's impressive confidence and elegance, he wasn't able to fool them into betraying their friends. But even so, he still managed to create a certain doubt in between them, a strange atmosphere taking over the room as they watch each other warily. After all, in the end, only one will become the best and everyone here was your rival.

You thought he would be dejected after not getting any support from the one he was targetting, but his wide smirk told you how satisfied he was from their reactions. He turns his back to them, leaving the same way as he came, adding one last sentence, which almost sounded like a threat.

“Don't choose the wrong King to serve, shitty commoners.”

The silence was heavy, all eyes on his back as the impact of his words weight their mind. Most were lost in their thought, looking at the ground or staring into space.

You were waiting for him to pass in front of you before leaving yourself, still unsure if you wanted to check on the others, at least that was your plan until Kaiser made a move.

He stopped in front of you with a blinding grin, catching the attention of the rest, that only noticed you now. With the same expression, he pulled you forward by your arm before placing his right arm around your waist, dragging you away with him.

The last straw, was when he barely looked over his shoulder to declare in a presumptuous tone to your friends, that some persons already made the good choice. The implication of those words shocking you, staring at him with wide eyes, still processing the remark. Too taken aback to say anything on the spot, letting you being led away.

When the door slammed shut behind you, you snapped out of your daze, the fury exploding in your body and mind. You send a murderous look at Kaiser, which only made him snicker more.

He looked so proud of himself, that smirk of his displayed on his face, and in a singsong voice, he claimed that he was just telling the truth. After all, you played with him, adjusted to him instead of Isagi for all the match against Spain, never doing a move to run away from his control over the game. It was true, but only because it was serving your own interests.

Your patience was running thin, each words of his only driving you to a more violent rage. The urge to destroy him getting uncontrollable, hands shaking, clenched into fists as you were going to snap.

And then, his last sentence made you completely lose your composure and self-control.

Kaiser barely had the time to understand what was happening, only seeing you jump on him. And before he knew it, his naked back hit the wall violently, a strong pain erupting from the contact, and a hand found its way around his neck.

The arrogant man was panicking, your thumb pressing against his skin, slowly cutting his airflow as you watch in satisfaction how he was suffocating. You weren't holding him tightly enough to kill him, but just the perfect pressure to make him panic. When Kaiser was going to pass out, you loosen your hold, letting him inhale as much as he could.

He was flushing red under your gaze, the fear still paralysing his muscles, but another feeling appeared in his chest, a distinctive sentiment awakening deep inside him.

He was too aware of the weight of your hand around his neck, how your fingertips were pushing into his skin, your nails almost gently digging into the flesh. Now he could feel it, the warmth of your body clearly too close to him, the tensed muscles under his fingers when he tried to make you let go of him, and your leg in between his to keep him in place.

Your gaze was curious, confused by his reaction as Kaiser could feel himself heat up, legs quivering and knees almost giving out, his natural assurance fading away.

You can't help but chuckle when his deep voice gets all breathy and almost whiny as you tighten your grip, watching with interest as he was reacting positively to your brutal attitude. His hand that were trying to previously pry you away were now urging you to say in this position, his hips unknowingly started to thrust into the air uselessly. It was clear that he was still fighting it, the pleasure of someone being stronger than him, but his ego was telling him to fight back.

It was oh-so humiliating for Kaiser, him, the German prodigy, the genius, to be choked and trapped against a wall in the shower room. Not only he was getting overpowered by someone like you, but he was loving it, the sensation of being powerless and controlled as if he was a nobody. It was against everything he has built all these years, but he couldn't resist the pleasure coursing through his veins.

He loved this feeling, he loved your hand around his neck, loved how he couldn't use his lungs, and you were the only one that could allow him to stay conscious. He loved how your eyes were shining from the curiosity, something awakening behind those pupils and only desired to hurt him further. He loved all of it, and needed you to give him more.

He was fascinated by you, how you were the one choking him, how your usual impassive face was now undescribable as the captivation and rage were mixing together, all rationality leaving your mind. He was unable to guess what you would do next, and he was embracing that ignorance with bliss.

You were still furious, blood pumping at a rapid pace, your hand itching to tighten your grip, admire him gasping and begging for you to let him go. You needed to see him cry, lose that pretentious and superior act, show him who was really in charge. The necessity of having him under you, powerless. The hunger to break him and make him yours.

Everything was getting mixed up in your head, rage and lust blending together, your initial goal vanishing into thin air, only for your lewd thirst to take over.

Your mind was still screaming at you to step away, but it was getting bluntly ignored. Not caring if anyone found you like this, though, the thought lingered on your mind. After all, you were both almost naked, and in a quite ambiguous position, anybody would think that you were, without a doubt, having an intercourse in public. Which, could lead to a delicate and troublesome situation, especially, when you had no idea if this part of the room was getting recorded.

While you were lost in your thoughts, trying how to get out of this situation quickly, Kaiser managed to snap out of his flustered state. His hand gripping your forearm moved to your nape, forcefully yanking you forward, your nose touching as you feel his breath against your lips. You looked down slowly, staring at the parted lips within your reach, calling for you.

Kaiser felt a rush of pride and satisfaction when you completely lost your train of thoughts just by looking at his lips, assured that he wasn't the only one sensing this tension. Now certain that it was mutual, he knew he only had to play his cards right.

He wanted to see you mad, witness you lose all sanity, and dump all your rage on him. Maybe, he could push his pride to the side for a moment and enjoy this rush. Nobody will know, it will be a secret that you will share together.

And maybe, just maybe, it could become something more.

Set on what he wanted, he let another sly remark slip out of his mind, needing to see what was going to be your reaction. Kaiser couldn't help it, he had this need to show that he was superior to you, prove himself, but at the same time, his entire being was begging for you to humiliate and humble him.

He was also starting to lose his mind, his airflow being cut once more as you whisper in his ear to stop playing. The vibration echoing through his body, knees giving out as your hand was holding him up. His hand scrambled to take a hold of your shoulders, the pressure in his lower stomach getting stronger, his mind getting hazy as everything started to spin.

He was definitely losing it.

Meanwhile, you were burning internally. The parasite was seriously pushing all your buttons at once, and you were close to the breaking point, which would result in either you punching him until he coughs up blood, or fuck him into his mind goes blank.

The decision was made when Kaiser mewled out your name, hands shaking as he places his hand on your nape and pull you in again.

This time, your lips collided before you could do anything, a soft moan escaping Kaiser's mouth as he grips your hair for support. Your annoyed objection getting swallowed by his lips cut off in a clash of teeth and tongue. Your second hand left the wall to sneak around his waist, bringing him closer as you get lost in the sensation, warmth spreading through your body when his bare torso met yours.

It was already too late for you and the last remain of your animosity.

Your body had betrayed you, a certain part of your body getting hard, as multiple scenarios appear in your mind, too many of them about ruining the blonde man in front of you.

You separated your lips in a haste, breathing heavily as you have trouble thinking properly, the man in front of you driving you crazy. Many things about him were turning you on, you didn't know what exactly, as Michael Kaiser was just so beautiful and provocative at the same time. Maybe it was his charming and attractive face, his captivating body, the fascinating curve and hypnotizing small waist, and his alluring scent.

One thing was sure about him, Kaiser was the best at making you lose your mind, and giving you the urge to grab him by his thin neck, kiss him until you lose your breath and ruin him completely.

You feel your strength leave you, forehead resting against his shoulder as you inhale sharply. You could feel yourself twitch under the towel, straining against the fabric, a strong need disabling your mind. You struggle to regain some sanity, if you were listening to yourself, Kaiser would have his face pressed against the wall already as you yank his shorts down and show him how to really overpower someone.

But the place wasn't appropriate, too exposed and maybe currently filmed. Though, Kaiser didn't care one bit, with his hands around you gripping your hair, he was grinding on your knee and biting your neck. Struggling to get his teeth deeper into your flesh, he yanked your head to the side to get more access, now devouring the junction between your neck and shoulder.

You almost lost it when Kaiser raised his knee, brushing it against your crotch temptingly, almost begging for you to snap and forget all dignity and civilities.

Kaiser's breathing was rapid, erratic, struggling to inhale more air, another sinful whine fleeing past his parted lips. His own little game was affecting him way too much, he couldn't think of a way to tease you more without bringing himself in another risky situation.

His short was already too tight around him, the fabric of his boxer sticking to his tip and his legs too weak to hold him up. Brief moans were flowing out of his mouth, teeth gritting together as he struggled to contain his sounds of pleasure, his thighs shaking as the tension between you and him gets suffocating. If it wasn't for your hand around his neck and the other on his shoulder, he would be on the ground by now, begging for anything you could give him.

Kaiser was at your mercy.

When you raised your head again, you were met with an absolutely delicious facial expression, the doubt and lust, along with the dominant and submissive part of Kaiser clashing in a hypnotizing way, delirious. He was, beautiful, tempting and exquisite, everything someone would dream of. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest, every thought you had turning to ashes as he was now fully occupying your mind.

His eyes met yours once again, your hands slowly moving down to hold his waist, gently drawing him closer. Kaiser's hands finding their place on your upper back and nape, eyes closing and head tilting to the side as your lips were going to meet.

The atmosphere changed around you in a swift second, the lust being pushed to the side as raw attraction lure you in delicately. You were so close now, ultimately breaking the last internal rule, no romance.

Your lips brushed against the other when the sounds of footsteps getting closer were heard. You barely had the time to think, both caught off guard as you flew out of the shower room. Thankfully, your shared room wasn't this far away, and you had the time to hide in there, slamming the door shut behind you.

In luck, Noa was out at this time, and you found yourselves alone in your room, panting and blushing, still not dressed and with your clothes missing in this shower room.

There was a moment of silence, when you looked at each other, and then you erupted in a fit of giggles. You flopped onto the bed, laughing at what just happened while Kaiser was doing the same, a bit more quietly. He slumped on the bed behind you, warmth radiating as you feel yourself relax.

You turn in his direction as he does it at the same time, finding yourself nose to nose, and the feelings from earlier hit you back, full force this time. Your breath was taking away at the soft view, Kaiser with a cute smile on his face, all red and breathless from laughing.

Kaiser caught you stare at him with this enamoured look on your face, and he couldn't help but tease you for it, calling you a weirdo and horn-dog. The atmosphere was more playful as he purposely acts this way, his proud grin getting bigger as you roll to the side, looming over him with an amused smile. Your forearms sinking into the mattress, you teasingly move your head down, leaving a kiss on his jaw before biting down the side of his neck.

You nipped at the skin, sinking your teeth in the soft flesh, getting rewarded with a breathy moan. You slowly moved down, a raspy groan escaping your throat as he tugs on your hair, hips thrusting upwards as he deliciously grinds against you. You move one of your hand down, slowly caressing his torso then waist, continuously moving down.

As you teasingly nibble at his shoulder, you graze at a sensitive part of his shoulder, unknowingly, and almost jumped when Kaiser hissed. Instead of cursing, he digs his nails into your neck, almost drawing out blood, as his other hand yanked on your hair violently.

You were glaring at the other furiously, Kaiser cursing you loudly as you stopped moving, whining at the loss of friction and pleasure. You hit his hip, telling him to stop complaining for once as he racked his nails down your back. Annoyed by his bratty act, you pin his wrists over his head, hoping he would stay still.

But your hopes were crushed quickly as he trashes against the restraint, in an attempt to get free, uselessly trying to get back some control. Though, his body was betraying him, he was too turned on to really focus on getting away. His face was burning, both in embarrassment and dizziness, legs spread wide as you find your place in between them.

As he was going to whine once more, you brought your lips together in a rough kiss, Kaiser's vision getting hazy as he tries to give you as much passion. The lack of air and pleasure coursing through his veins was dazzling, you stood up slowly to take off your towel, Kaiser following after you, refusing for your lips to separate.

He still followed your lead, sitting up on the edge of the bed, raising his hips to take off his shorts and underwear. The temptation was too strong, and he allowed himself to let his eyes wander, admiring your body and how you were moving so naturally towards him.

You were now leaning forward to tease him a bit, but Kaiser took you by surprise when he made the first move, taking control for some seconds. Before he knew it, everything was spinning, his body moved as if he was a doll, unable to do anything by himself.

You manhandled him, making his back hit your bed in a soft sound. Kaiser was really cute when he wanted to take control, but you wouldn't let it happen again. Now that you were back in your original position, it was much more comfortable, despite the lack of clothes. Each movement making your skin brush against his, shivers going up your spine as the feeling itself was driving you insane.

Silently, one of your hands sneaked in between his legs, caressing his inner thigh before gently teasing the most important part. Kaiser growled at how you were smirking, laying on top of him, purposely doing everything to tease him, never giving enough to be satisfied. He wanted you, and it seemed like you weren't going to help him.

So, he hooked a leg over your hip, grinding against you suggestively but kept his face away from you. Even when you were trying to kiss him, he would avoid it, only allowing you to do so if your fingers were deep inside of him.

The sight was sinful to say the least, arousing, and only made you want Kaiser more. He was so much hotter when he was keeping his mouth shut, especially when he wasn't acting like a self-centred king anymore. You loved how he could put anyone in their place, now that you knew him better, but sometimes it was too annoying. And finally, you had the occasion to shut him up.

And surprisingly, for once, Kaiser was quiet. At least, if you would ignore his breathy high moans, also how his breath would itch after a roll of your hips, the squelching of your hand while you jerk him off.

Kaiser was the prettiest and quietest boy when he had two fingers forced into his mouth, and especially when he was licking them like a starved man.

It was too much. Kaiser was losing his mind, every action of yours would make his eyes roll back, unable to keep up with your fingers or hips. He could feel your dick pressing against his thighs, slick slowly coating his skin as you were getting too impatient yourself.

Kaiser couldn't lie, you were driving him insane, and from the start. Not only you were an impressive football player, able to make him adapt to your playstyle, forcing him to let go of his pride for a goal, but also managed to get on friendly terms with Noa.

You had no idea how ecstatic he was the moment you got paired together, but the joy disappeared as quickly when Noa added himself to the mix. How aggravating it was to see you come back from the shower with him, your bright smile and chuckles after something he said.

It was clear, Noa was head over heels for you, but Kaiser was too. So at first, he became meaner with you, trying to get your attention, but it never worked. And then, the easiest way that appeared to him, was to have the same importance as Noa. He started coming to your private practise, ate with you, would share some advices until he managed to get close enough.

And yet, after so many efforts, you weren't his. He didn't think that provoking you one last time would get him what he wanted.

When he snapped out of his thoughts, he found you waiting on top of him, breathing heavily as you were holding yourself back. Kaiser had his leg thrown over your shoulder, his hole fluttering just in front of your dick as you were waiting for his consent.

The embarrassment came crashing onto him, he ended up spacing out, and you nicely waited for him. Though, from how pale your knuckles were while holding the sheets, it must have been far from pleasurable for you to wait for so long. He could feel your erratic heartbeat against his skin, chest pressed together as your warm breath hit his neck, making goosebumps prickle across his shoulders and arms.

With difficulty, he pushed his ass toward you, making your tip forcefully enter him. The muscles of your thighs tremble as you resist the temptation to slam into him with no consideration for the potential pain. But the sharp gasp you let out only fuelled Kaiser up into pushing more, as you finally slip your length into his tight hole, moaning in unison at the pleasure making your head spin. You were relishing in the warmth and soft whimpers Kaiser let out, completely losing himself in the feeling of getting stretched apart, his thighs twitching at the strong sensation. You kissed his cheek, going down to spare some seconds to bite down onto his neck before coming back up, murmuring soft praises in his ear, your breath warm and wet against his neck, making Kaiser shiver.

You tried your best to breathe, calming yourself down and letting Kaiser relax, but it was difficult when he was squeezing you this way. Your hands caressing his body, from his shoulders and back to his waist and thighs, fingers digging into the soft skin, earning yourself a low moan. When Kaiser pleaded, you knew there was no reason to hold back anymore.

“Please, I beg you… Give me more.”

With one of your hands on his waist, and the other placed on the top of his head, you slam your length inside of him, uncaring of how loud you were both being. Kaiser choked on his moan, too full of you to manage to let out a consistent sound. The top of your hand hit the wall by the force of your thrusts, protecting Kaiser's head as you ravage him, the blonde being fucked out of his brain. It was a sight to behold, Kaiser sweating and squirming on your bed, his cock hard and leaking precum, curving against his abs and beautifully framed by the v of his hips.

The prodigy was under you in all his glory, getting lost in the pleasure you were giving him.

After a certain thrust, he became much louder, and anyone outside would be able to hear him if you didn't do something. As he was moaning your name, mouth wide open, you pushed your finger inside his mouth, and a muffled moan vibrates as your thrusts became erratic. Far too turned on to hold much longer, focusing on Kaiser who was already incoherent, babbling nonsense and drooling at the mind-numbing sensations.

The thrusts that follow are raw, unrestrained, and impatient, only wanting to finish inside of him. Tuning out all your thoughts, you just keep moving, rocking yourself desperately inside Kaiser's hole, needing to see him completely lose it. You shifted your weight onto one arm, moving Kaiser's hips, pressing up his legs until he was folded in half under you, his arms wrapped around his calves.

The position only allows more access, giving you all the freedom you needed to let loose and destroy his body. Kaiser's vision was blurred when he felt you go deeper, forcing past the tightness, threatening to utterly overwhelm him. His entire body was at your mercy, with no strength left to move or get into another position, as he was bound to accept anything you wanted to do with him.

His skin was on fire, his insides burning, he was so close to the edge. He only needed a bit more and he would fall down.

Thankfully for him, it seemed like you were in the same state as you couldn't speak anymore, only uttering his name in a low moan, almost growling. And Kaiser would reply in the sweetest way possible, by chanting your name in that melody only he could create, making your core tighten.

Desperately, you slammed into him again, the sudden force used rocked your whole body forward, your arms giving out under you. With your chest pressed together, his cock rubbed against your stomach, coating your skin in a thin layer of fluids. So close to the other, the temptation was too strong, and with difficulty, Kaiser yanked your head forward, your lips melting against each other.

It was just a kiss, after all. Something so simple that you both already shared with someone else, but this time, it ruined you completely. Your thrusts were wilder, more vicious, the rhythm becoming fast and unforgiving until you're left breathless, gasping for air. You choke out a warning, telling him that you were close and he only pulls you closer, mouthing words against your lips.

Your name, over and over.

And then, it hits you, along with a last kiss. A spark of electricity spread through your entire body, reality fading away as Kaiser is pushed over the edge too, trembling in your arms. He whimpers out something incomprehensible, his back arching as he cum, the whole world fading away with the force of his climax. Kaiser could feel you inside of him, emptying yourself until you were left gasping for air, high and euphoric.

You murmured his name in the softest manner he ever heard, holding him closer as you kiss his jaw, softly biting his neck. You were still inside of him, and it seemed like you weren't planning to move as all the tension leave your body along with your worries. This sudden affection takes Kaiser off guard, as the hidden need to get your lips on his again gets stronger, and promising himself to blame it on the confusion and his high, he links your lips again. So tenderly that he feels his body melt, bringing you closer, so he could feel you, sense you against him. Have you for himself, just for one more second.

And when you fell asleep together, in the same position, your hand never left his.

The next days, everyone was confused about your sudden closeness and how well you were warming up to the other. Everyone, except Noa, who didn't expect to be greeted by the sight of his roommates sleeping in the same bed after his training, bodies littered with bite marks and small bruises. He didn't make a comment or mentioned it once, but he did imply once or twice that next time, you could at least try to cover yourself after doing it.

You may have done it together, again, multiple times after this. But your first focus was still training and being at the top of the best players, and you couldn't waste time on unclear feelings. Though, when the program Blue Lock ended, and you were finally free from almost all the pressure, Kaiser made the first move, pushing his pride aside and asking you out on a date.

Within a few days, the news was known by everyone, as the well-known German prodigy, Micheal Kaiser, and the first-ranked player of Blue Lock were officially dating. All were waiting for one thing, seeing you on the field, together, in the same team.

⏤ Thank you for reading! I wish you a great day.

⏤ here is my masterlist & ko-fi ⏤

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spidrstar · 1 year ago

Text

HE AINT SHIT pt 2.

★ pairings: aged up e!42 miles!morales × latina! reader

★ slowburn? characters are 18+ in this story they're in their mid twenties.

★ warnings: as i write this story some parts will be slightly suggestive, if that bothers u dni..

★ a/n: now THIS, this one i put a lot of effort into ☠️ 3k words long.. btw i already had most of chap 2 written out so i will not be putting this series on hold but i won’t be having a schedule bc i know i wont follow it. Again sorry for the hold up y’all my motivation went poof ily and lmk what y’all think abt this chap. sorry not sorry for the cliffhanger 😊

★ p.s i'll be adding a link to a playlist i made that you could listen to when reading abt miles Imk what y'all think.

★ summary: You end up going to your ‘apology date’ and things go south. You wanted to spend your time eating snacks when angry but ran out, so you left and went straight to the market then you met someone unexpected.

★ previous, part 3

mwah

“…almost fell in love with you

After the club last night.”

- lovely : sonder

With groggy eyes, you found yourself zoning out, you had woken up 20 minutes ago because you were hungry. You had the worst headache ever, and all the memories from last night flooding into your head wasn’t helping either.

‘I don’t know what I was thinking, giving him my phone. Whatever, I just won’t text him.’

You stretched and yawned once again shutting off the music you fell asleep to, getting up standing in front of your mirror you noticed you had the same clothes on from last night. The sight of yourself made you sigh in exhaustion, you looked like a disaster and didn’t have energy to get all pretty today.

You lifted your dress off of yourself and sat back down on your bed in the set you had bought specially for your date that failed last night. The thought, only making you wince with closed eyes, you remembered yourself falling into bed as soon as you got home crying yourself to sleep with music playing to help. You sighed and went on your phone, you realized you never answered Kole and you wanted to keep it that way ‘til later.

You weren’t in the mood to deal with him especially after what he pulled last night. Honestly, you didn’t really care if you both went the whole day without talking to each other. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t losing feelings for him, sure you’d been together for 6 months and duh you loved him he’s your boyfriend.. you just.. weren’t sure you loved him as much as you did before. Kole rarely did anything special, he stopped giving you sweet things ‘just because’ he didn’t compliment you as if he was still trying to get with you.

None of that.

He acted as if his goal was to just get with you, not keep you happy, not love you, not make you feel special, just get with you. You started noticing it on your 3rd month anniversary. All he did was buy you flowers, no date no nothing. Only reason you hadn’t left him is because you just felt as if you couldn’t. He had been there for you during all your darkest moments, you felt like you needed him in your life. You felt glued to him and if you were to unstick even just a little bit, he made sure he stuck you back to him.

Scrolling through your other notifications you find nothing interesting and upon turning it off, that’s when an incoming call pops up on your screen. You mentally sighed preparing yourself for the incoming argument awaiting to happen.

It was Kole.

It was 2:34 pm and he wanted to call you now? Scoffing before picking up the call, you already felt yourself getting angry.

“Qué quieres ahora, Kole.” 5 seconds of silence seemed to be enough for him before he finally spoke up.

“Listen, baby, I know I fucked up by not showing up yesterday but I had things going on and—“

You didn’t even let him finish before you snapped, this made you laugh. “I don’t even wanna hear it, Kole. All I'm getting from this is that anything is more important to you than our relationship.” You closed your eyes and laid your face into the palm your hand waiting to hear what excuse he had for you this time.

“Nonono, baby listen I promise it’s nothing like that I was just chillin’ with the guys while I was waiting for you to get off work and I fell asleep watching a game and—“

“Don’t- No puedo mas, don’t even finish. Kole, I'm fed up.” here we go, you had to stand up for what you were about to say already feeling yourself tense up at the anger you were feeling.

“You know, I made sure I asked for a day off tomorrow thinking we were gonna have the best night of our lives like you had promised. Do you know how much effort I put into getting ready yesterday? You never think about anything but yourself. I made sure to buy new clothes just for you, and here you are telling me you were too busy watching games with your friends while I spent more than 2 hours preparing for our date? Are you fucking serious right now?”

You couldn’t believe what he was saying and the silence on the other line was more than enough confirmation for you to continue speaking, you let out a short laugh, tears already forming from the anger you felt. “This just goes to show how little I mean to you. I cried, Kole. I cried over and over again last night because of you.”

Kole knew he had hurt you, never in your whole 6 months of dating him had you gotten so frustrated to the point where your voice started shaking. He knew he messed up, and bad. The silence on the other line only hurt you more, your response only being a couple of sniffles.

You heard him sigh preparing to speak, “Listen baby, I know I messed up. I truly wish I could show you how sorry I am. I never meant to make you feel this way and you know I would never do this to you on purpose, I—I’ve just honestly been so stressed and wanted to let loose with the guys. We drank a bit and I got sleepy, and I know—I know that is not a good enough excuse to not show up. And I could've at least left you a text. I know that. I just—..I swear this time I'll make it up to you, Y/n.”

You frowned and sighed. As much as you really wanted to forgive him and just ‘go back to normal’ you’ve been letting this slide too many times. You knew all the times he had given you a speech almost exactly the same as this one, he was bullshitting you. You remember it clear as day, when you found multiple dating apps downloaded on his phone he gave you the most shitiest apology. He never really meant it; he just wanted to make sure you were stuck and didn’t leave him.

“I don’t know, Kole. I really don’t know what to think of this anymore—“

“Y/n, please. I know I messed up, just give me a chance to make it up to you.”

You sat there really considering it, and you came to a conclusion that if he really messed it up this time then that would be the end of this relationship. “Alright Kole, fine. Pero te lo juro if you mess this up we’re done.”

“Thank you, thank you. I love you so much baby and I promise I won't mess up. Meet me at our favorite coffee shop at 4.” and with that he hung up.

You had lost almost all your faith in your relationship, so you figured today you weren’t going to put in much effort since you just wanted to enjoy your day off in bed. You stood up from your bed again and grabbed your towel heading to your shower.

It was 3:17 pm and you had only just started putting on clean undergarments, you knew by the time you left you would be there late but at this point that was the least of your worries. You sat in front of your vanity doing your skincare routine when you noticed a dark spot on your neck, wondering what it was you looked closely.

A hickey.

You gasped grabbing your makeup sponge and some foundation trying to conceal it so your boyfriend doesn’t think of anything. But to no avail, you failed. It was still pretty visible. This is the moment when you really started panicking, you got up from your desk rummaging through your drawers searching for a turtle neck and when you found one you sighed in relief. You thought for a second letting your heart beat slow down.

‘Miles, ese estupido.’

You put the turtle neck on along with some sweatpants, slipped on your uggs and fixed up your hair only slightly since you had slept with a bonnet on. It had just hit 3:34 pm and you still weren’t ready, a few pumps of your bath and body works perfume and you got straight to your makeup. Sure you weren’t going to put in much effort, but you still wanted to wear just a bit of mascara.

You got up from your desk, grabbed your keys and let Kole know that you were on your way.

As you made your way out the building it hit 3:56 pm, still no text back from Kole. You weren’t surprised to say the least. To pass some time you decided to walk, and since the coffee shop wasn’t far. You also didn’t want to lose your parking. You slipped on your earbuds listening to some music on your way there.

Self Love; Metro Boomin & Coi Leray.

“came to the city for the love

got her hurtin’ now”

By the time you got to the coffee shop it was 4:08 pm, Kole hadn’t texted you back nor was he inside. You stepped in the shop and got in line wanting to order a snack so you wouldn’t starve while waiting. You chose your favorite, a glazed donut with some hot chocolate. You decided to pick a warm snack since it had gotten a bit windy outside.

You got your order and sat at your usual spot in the corner, taking a bite out of your donut. You decided to go on instagram to cure your boredom. You opened the app and clicked on the explore page button, you watched a few reels and quickly got bored again, swiping to the right again trying to find something interesting you stumbled across a post with more than 4k likes. You hummed in amusement scrolling through the pictures.

Pressing onto their page you realized who it was, Miles. Intrigued you stalked his page, all his posts having more than 2k likes. You observed them closely, and you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t insanely attractive. You paused annoyingly remembering that you were still in a relationship and that you were mad at him for leaving a hickey on you. You glanced at the time again and it was 4:23 pm. You sighed, and got a notification from your weather app stating that there was going to be a crazy rain storm happening in about an hour.

‘Seriously? The one day I decided not to wear a sweater.’

As if on cue kole barged into the coffee shop in a hurry to see you.

You looked up at him with a dull look on your face, “Hi baby, I'm sorry there was traffic and I forgot my keys inside—“ Interrupting him you loudly sipped on your hot chocolate, signaling him to shut up with his excuses already. He sighed in defeat and sat down, “Well it doesn’t matter, you’re here now aren’t you?”

You flashed him a fake smile and you placed your cup down on the table and cleared your throat not sure what to talk about, “Sooo.. you gonna order anything or?”

“Oh, right. Do you want anything, love?” Slightly cringing at the nickname he gave you, “Yea another glazed donut would be nice.” And with that he headed towards the cash register ready to order, you took this as a chance to hop back onto your phone and look through Miles’ instagram posts.

You thought for a second, and pressed onto the ‘follow�� button. Disregarding the fact that you were still with Kole you exited out of the app.

‘Oh well, he follows many girls anyway and it’s not like we’re going to see each other again, especially after what he did.’

Kole came back with your glazed donut, he sat down and tried his best to make interesting conversation and most of the time you gave dry responses because he was just so.. how do you put it?——Boring. Usually it wasn’t this hard to catch your attention and have you entertained, but you genuinely wanted to leave.

“So yea, the game yesterday was awesome and oh! Max almost threw up because he ate 3 full boxes of pizza, can you believe that?! It’s crazy.”

You stared off across the cafe, so clearly uninterested and done with Kole. “Out of all the things to talk about, you chose to talk about what you were doing while I was waiting for you at the restaurant.” You rolled your eyes at him.

“Oh cmon, don’t do that. The whole point of today was for me to make it up to you and you’re making it difficult.” He pouted, and this only had you feeling even angrier.

“Yeah well, it’s hard not to when you’ve done this four times already.”

He sighed and as he was about to speak that’s when both of your phones vibrated against the wooden table, you turned your attention to his screen first.

Incoming call from Madison.

“I-I gotta go babe. I promised my friend I would help her move into her new place. ” He then placed a kiss on your cheek quickly and rushed out. You sat there in disbelief as to what had just happened.

‘So not only did he show up late to his little apology date, he also ditched me for some other girl.’

You scoffed and stood up from your seat angrily deciding you were finally going to break up with him. You stared at the screen of your phone acknowledging what your notification was, Miles had followed you back. You ignored it, not thinking anything of it.

You angrily walked down the street and headed to the supermarket before going home to distract yourself, you needed to get some stuff for the house anyway.

Only two blocks away from the supermarket you started feeling a few small rain drops on your cheeks.

‘Great, now I'm gonna be soaking wet. Could this day genuinely get any worse?’

You quickly rushed into the supermarket a bit damp and grabbed a shopping basket to your left.

You head towards the snack aisle remembering you had finished your last tub of ice cream last Friday. You scanned through the aisle looking for more options and as you were slowly walking sideways squinting your eyes you bumped into someone.

“Oh- I’m so sorry i wasn’t watching where i was goin-“

Before you finished you managed to turn around and see who the person was, as if the smell of his husky cologne wasn’t an obvious giveaway.

It was Miles.

“We meet again, hermosa.” He grinned at you in amusement, eyeing you down and of course, he still looked as beautiful as when you first saw him, nothing new. You rolled your eyes mentally and just stared at him wanting to take the ‘sorry’ right back.

“Never mind, excuse me.” You tried to walk right past him trying not to acknowledge his existence. “Wow really? It’s like that now?” He asked with hurt in his voice sarcastically, you shut your eyes and sucked in a deep breath. Dealing with Miles was the last thing you needed right now, especially after your little fiasco with Kole.

“Miles. Quítate del miedo o te quito yo.”

You spoke seriously without making eye contact, this only made him feel like teasing you more. The way you spoke to him in Spanish angrily made him smirk. “Cmon amor, what’s with the attitude? You weren’t like this last night.”

His snarky remark only irked you more, which finally caused you to look up at him. “Yeah well, this is what happens when you think it’s funny to leave hickies on me knowing I have a boyfriend.” You snapped at him and he chuckled lightly lifting your chin up to look at you directly. “You enjoyed it, what's the problem mami? You followed me on instagram too, so I know you were thinking about me, why the sudden change?” He smirked.

His voice so close to you sent shivers down your spine, you felt your body react to his touch and his voice so you quickly swatted his hand away, you clutched your shopping basket and moved past him. “Whatever, and that was a mistake, I'm unfollowing you later.”

He smirked as you walked away, you could feel his gaze on your back and you felt vulnerable, like he was a predator and you, his prey. You reached the cash register with him still following behind, you decided to speak up to try and get him to back off. “Will you quit following me everywhere?” You turned to face him, annoyance written all over your face.

“I’m tryna pay ma, not doin’ it on purpose.” He grinned at your reaction and you just wanted to oh so badly smack that beautiful grin off of his face. “Yeah? Well you could’ve chosen any other cash register, whys the one i went to your choice.” The cashier finished ringing you up and your total came to $23.47, you rummaged through your wallet and paid $20 you soon realized you didn’t have enough and mentally cursed at yourself for being so reckless.

You remember thinking before you left the house that it was best to not take much money since you were only going to the coffee shop, that decision only came back to bite on your ass. You cleared your throat nervously not knowing how to explain.

“I’m sorry.. I uh- I’m missing $4.” You laughed nervously trying to rummage through your wallet once more seeing if you could find at least three or two dollars. Miles noticed this while being behind you. You soon see out of your peripheral vision that he slid $5 to the cashier, you turned to look at him with a look that said. ‘You’re annoying, but thanks i guess.’

You placed all of your items in a bag and walked to the exit hoping Miles would stay behind, but of course since your day already sucked why not make it suck even more? He was right behind you. Pretty soon, that was the least of your concerns once you noticed that it was pouring outside. You groaned in distress palming your face and made terms with the fact that you had to walk in the rain.

You were about to step out until Miles caught on and stopped you. “Woah woah, what are you doing?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow. You looked at him as if he was wearing a red clown nose and a wig in confusement.

“Uh.. trying to walk home? What does it look like.” He matched your energy and came right back at you with a smart tone. “To me, it looks like you’re just tryna catch a cold.” You mocked him and soon noticed he was taking off his jacket while speaking. You had a confused look on your face when he placed it over you.

“What are you doing?”

“What? You think I’m bouta let you walk out ina rain like that?” He responded with a raised brow.

“Like what?”

“..Nothing.”

You ignored him and looked straight ahead, jogging out the market doors bag of snacks in hand. You groaned slightly looking up at the sky in annoyance because if even possible, the rain seemed to pour down harder. You noticed Miles was still behind you and turned to stare at him, eyeing him weirdly you then noticed how good he looked even when dripping wet in the rain. His black tee soaking wet, braids fucked up he stared at you through wet eyelashes.

“Miles, why are you still following me? I'm literally going home. Ya vete y déjame en paz, dios mío.”

“Look, I'm sorry, okay? I get it you’re mad but just let me at least walk you home. You don’t even gotta go on that date with me either, I’ll leave you completely alone afterwards. Promise. ”

You both stood in the rain staring at each other for a second before you felt sympathy for him, you felt bad for the way you came at him. Yeah, he left marks even when he knew you had a boyfriend but it’s not like you didn’t think he was cheating either. You enjoyed it anyway.. So why not cut him some slack? You turned around and continued walking but before you did, you slightly turned your head to the side to speak to him.

“Fine, but I'm not completely declining your ‘date’ offer. If you respect my relationship then maybe I’ll let you take me out. Not on a date, more like us hanging out as friends.”

You felt bad turning him down completely when you had already agreed to meeting with him, so you gave him a chance bonus points for the sad look in his eyes causing you to give into him. Besides, being just friends won’t do any harm to your relationship.. right?

He smiled following right behind you as you both turned a few more blocks, finally reaching your house. You went up the stairs and stood under the roof of the apartment to avoid the water. You stared down at him shivering in his jacket.

“Soo.. where you going now?” You asked curiously trying to fight back the way your teeth hit each other from the way you shivered.

“Probably gonna walk home, don’t live too far.” He shrugged.

You looked at him in disbelief, walking out this late in the rain with how windy it was would probably be enough to give him the flu. You sighed and stared up at the ceiling for a second before staring at him.

“Miles, come on.”

“What?”

“You’re coming in with me.”

He stared at you wide eyed not expecting you to invite him in, after all that begging for him to stay away from you; inviting him inside your home was the least thing he thought would happen but of course he didn’t have a problem with it. All he did was smirk at you and raise his brows as if to say, ‘you bein’ for real right now?’

“You paid for my snacks, lent me your jacket in the rain and walked me home. It’s the least I could do, besides you’ll get really sick if you stay out any longer soaking wet.”

You walked in making your way to the elevator which only left him smiling, standing behind you at the way you were concerned for his health.

You paused then spoke up again, “So? ¿Vas a venir o que?”

He then walked up the stairs to follow behind you into the apartment muttering a low ‘well if you’re offering, might as well.’

Soon, you were left to contemplate if this was a mistake or not.

Because little did you know, this was gonna be a very long night.

★ translations: Que quieres ahora - what do you want now || no puedo más - I can’t anymore || pero te lo juro - but i swear || ese estupido - that idiot || hermosa - beautiful || quítate del medio o te quito yo - get out of the way or I’ll make you get out of the way myself || Amor - love || ya vete y déjame en paz, dios mío - go away and leave me alone, my god || vas a venir o que - are you coming or what

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neopuff · 8 months ago

Text

ALWAYS ON MY MIND

chapter eight: keep me in mind ships: sasha/milla characters: milla, sasha, oleander, hollis, otto word count: 4784 ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53435410/chapters/137330257

[chap 1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

Five and a half years was a long time.

As of 1985, Morceau Oleander had been with the Psychonauts for almost thirteen years, and he’d never seen Sasha Nein work so consistently with another person. It was fascinating, if he was being honest. He hadn’t thought it was possible. But Milla Vodello was nothing if not a miracle worker.

Morceau liked the two of them. Well, he liked Milla. He tolerated Sasha in appropriately small doses, as the lanky man did to him.

But having a friendly relationship with them wouldn’t change his goals. Oleander’s grand master plan was finally going to get in motion. After five years of agonizingly slow and pain-staking hard work, the Whispering Rock Psychic Summer Camp was going to open its doors to the first group of psychic children that would someday power his army of brain tanks. Once he figured out all the other details, anyway.

Whispering Rock Valley was a perfect location. The large psitanium deposits meant psychic powers would be amplified, there was a beautiful lake for normal camp nonsense, and it was a remote-enough area to avoid interference from locals. The past five years had been spent planning, excavating the grounds, building the campsite, creating psychic safety measures to ensure safety for the kids and counselors, and then more planning. It was the biggest project he’d ever worked on, and Oleander was damn proud of it.

For the very first summer of Whispering Rock Psychic Summer Camp, they’d just have one camp session per month and just a handful of kids per session. Oleander would be a counselor at the camp every session, but the other two (or more!) counselors could swap. He didn’t really care. He was more concerned about working on his actual plan, and enjoying how the psitanium would enhance his natural psychic abilities.

The first session was set to begin on June 9th and end on the 16th. There were only seven kids signed up, and they were all the children or relatives of Psychonauts, but Oleander wasn’t deterred. The first summer was guaranteed to be slow! Their name wasn’t out in the world just yet.

“Morceau,” Otto commented one day while walking through the Motherlobe lobby. “I think all that psitanium exposure could be good for Ford. You should bring him along and let me know if you see any improvement.”

“You want me to bring Agent Cruller to the summer camp?” Oleander had asked, thoroughly baffled. It wasn’t like Cruller could do anything about his plans, not when the man was so mentally messed up, but the thought still made him nervous. “But then…who’s gonna sort the mail? Clean the bowling shoes?”

Otto glared at the shorter man. “We can always find replacements for that. Take him with you.”

Oleander did as he was told - after checking with Grand Head Zanotto and Lesser Head Forsythe, of course - and decided to embrace it. Cruller being around didn’t need to be a setback. It was just an inconvenience that ultimately wouldn’t change anything.

“Please be gentle with the children,” Milla said to him the day before he left for camp. “They can only handle so much of your…intensity.”

“You could always come along, you know!” Oleander responded with a toothy smile. “I’ll bet you’re great with kids!”

“Ah…I, um. I’ll think about it,” she’d answered shyly, then floated away.

Morceau thought that was an odd response, and Sasha’s appearance next to him made it even stranger.

“She used to work with children. It’s been a while,” Sasha said quietly, adjusting his sunglasses. “Perhaps we’ll join you next summer.”

Oleander glared at the taller man. “I didn’t say you could come, too, Nein. You’d scare the kids half to death!”

Sasha glared back, looking slightly offended.

Morceau decided not to give the other man a chance to talk back. “I know you two are connected at the hip, but there’ll be no time for smooching at my camp! It’ll be psychic training all day, every day!” He crossed his arms over his chest and smiled.

“You are intolerable,” was Sasha’s only response as he floated away.

Notably, in the same direction that Milla had just gone. Nein wasn’t doing anything in his favor to fight the rumors about the two of them and Oleander thought it was very, very funny.

Milla was excited to talk to Morceau as soon as he returned from the first session at Whispering Rock. He'd gone with Agents Aaronson and Whittaker, neither of whom seemed all that excited about the opportunity, but were both asked to keep things in line. The two of them looked absolutely exhausted when they returned - like they'd been on the battlefield instead of babysitting a bunch of children.

“It was…too much,” Agent Aaronson said when Milla caught up to him. “Oleander already stresses me out. Add a bunch of preteens and I was ready to rip my hair out!”

“Oh.” Milla was disappointed by Aaronson’s reaction, not sure if she'd have felt the same. It didn't take her long to find Whittaker, who looked similarly worn out.

“You ever work with kids, Agent Vodello?” Whittaker asked, not expecting an answer. “Think about all that energy. Think about how much they don't like to listen. Then give them psychic powers and try to stop the five-year-old from setting the fourteen-year-old’s hair on fire.”

She nodded, not really sure what to say. Milla wasn't going to pretend that she didn't have a vested interest in Oleander’s camp project. But it sounded very scary. Especially the idea of children being able to create fire with their minds.

It stressed her out to think about it too much.

After talking with the two of them, Milla finally found Morceau - he'd just finished up a briefing with Truman and Hollis and looked much lighter and happier than his two compatriots.

“How'd it go, Morry?” she asked, a bit hesitant after the bad reviews she'd already heard.

“How'd it go? How'd it go?” he responded, getting louder as he spoke. “It went amazing! These kids are hungry to learn! And Zanotto’s little girl, you should've seen her! I never could've imagined such a young mind could be so powerful!”

Truman’s daughter, Lili, was the youngest camper to attend the first camp session. Everyone knew about it because Truman talked about it constantly. Ever since his divorce, his daughter had become his entire world. Milla wondered if he was trying to make up for the time he didn't spend with his ex-wife.

Milla and Sasha had met Lili a handful of times when she came to work with her father. She was feisty and adorable and occasionally difficult to keep track of. Very adventurous, always wandering off on her own.

The idea of her creating fire with her mind made Milla feel very nervous. Five-year-olds shouldn't even use a stove yet, let alone start fires spontaneously.

“The parents were so excited, too,” Oleander continued. “Everyone took a handful of pamphlets, probably to hand out to fellow psychics with their own psychic kids. This is gonna be a gold mine, I'm telling you!”

“How many children are signed up for July?”

“A week ago there were just five, but a bunch of the campers asked to come back right away so we're already up to nine!” Morceau was smiling bright and looked immensely proud of himself. “I'm telling you, Vodello, the next generation of Psychonauts is gonna be the strongest yet!”

She smiled at him, despite the unease she still felt. Strong wasn't a word she liked attributing to children. They shouldn't have to be strong. But it was hard to deny that they'd be safer if they were properly trained on how to use their powers, especially when those powers involved fire.

“I'm happy for you, Morceau,” Milla said, still smiling. “I'm glad you worked so hard to set this up. You're really going to change those kid's lives.”

Sasha watched the two of them talk. He'd been casually observing them for the entirety of their conversation, but only because he'd been looking to talk to Oleander and Milla got to him first. Sasha had been paying attention to Morceau’s camp for a while, knowing that his partner would eventually, undoubtedly, want to participate.

Years ago, before meeting Milla, Sasha wouldn't have even considered it. What Morry said two weeks ago was right - Sasha did tend to scare kids. He wasn't good at being around them. But he knew that Milla would want to check it out, at the very least.

She’d struggled to be around children for too long in the aftermath of her incident, but in the past few years she'd worked through a lot of those feelings. It was true that she'd never get rid of the nightmares, not entirely, but she made them weaker. A little at a time. And he was proud of her.

He watched as Milla gave Morceau a little kiss on top of his head, which Sasha found himself frowning at for no discernable reason, and then he frowned deeper as Morry shouted at her retreating figure.

“Save the smooches for your partner!”

Sasha had told Morceau on more than one occasion to stop with the comments, but knowing he was making them to Milla as well made him especially unhappy. She didn’t need to deal with that sort of thing.

As she left the lobby, Sasha levitated to where she just was and stood right next to Morceau, who took a second to notice the new presence next to him.

“Nein,” he said sourly.

“Morry,” Sasha responded, hands in his pockets.

“What do you want?” Morceau glared up at him. “Don’t tell me you suddenly care about the camp.”

“Do you already have counselors assigned for the rest of the summer?”

That question earned Sasha a suspicious stare. “July’s covered, but August is still open. Why? You’re actually considering this?”

Sasha crossed his arms over his chest. “Why is that so surprising to you? I’ve no issue with spending time outdoors. Or with…children.”

“Are you kidding? You spend every hour of every day in your lab! Do you even know how to swim?” Oleander threw his hands up. “We’re teaching these kids real life skills! How to use their psychic powers to protect themselves, but also how to find community and feel like a hero! Do you think you can handle something like that?”

It was an interesting question. Sasha hadn’t thought of the camp in such a melodramatic way before, he mostly thought of it as some sort of training facility for kids. But he didn’t attend any kind of summer camp when he was a boy, so he didn’t really have experience to compare it to. He didn’t hate the outdoors, though, he just preferred his lab because he liked getting work done. There was nothing wrong with that.

“I do know how to swim,” was Sasha’s immediate response, though it felt kind of silly to say out loud. He didn’t know how to swim well, but he wouldn’t drown if thrown into the water. “I see no reason why I couldn’t do my usual work at Whispering Rock.”

Oleander sighed deeply. “This is why I didn’t invite you, Nein. You’re not focusing on the kids! You’re just thinking about yourself. If you really want to be a counselor, you have to be a counselor. Got it?”

Sasha pouted slightly. “Got it,” he answered, hating that he was being scolded by Morceau Oleander of all people. It wasn’t like Oleander didn’t have a point, though. Sasha knew he’d have to put aside real time to pay attention to the campers and not just work on his own projects. Which would be difficult, since he often lost track of time when he was working.

But he knew that Milla would want to go and he wanted to be there with her. It would be worth it to try something new.

“We'll join you in August,” Sasha said after going over his thoughts.

“Uh-huh.”

“I'm serious.” Sasha clenched his arms tighter across his chest and tapped a pointer finger against his arm. “I…promise to pay attention to the children. I'll be on my…best behavior.” It was causing him physical pain to speak like that to a man like Oleander.

“Talk to your partner about it first, why don't you?” Morry opened a little notebook and wrote something down. “I'll hold the space ‘til the end of the day, but no longer than that!”

Sasha took a deep breath. He was so easily irritated by him. “I appreciate that.”

“But I meant what I said before, Nein. This isn't some lovey-dovey vacation for you and Vodello to cuddle by the campfire! You won't get any of the silly romantic alone time you're looking for. It's real work! And it's hard and unforgiving and you'll want to pull your hair out sometimes!” Oleander shook his head and held a hand dramatically to his chest. “But it's worth it! Trust me, it's worth it.”

“...I have absolutely no expectations for anything romantic,” Sasha said after a moment of hesitation. He never knew how to respond to Oleander when he got all intense and weird. “You need to stop with the comments, Morry.”

“You're such a tight-wad, Nein!” Morceau rolled his eyes. “But y'know what? If you can actually manage to be an attentive camp counselor for an entire week, I swear you'll never hear a joke about you and Vodello ever again!”

That got Sasha’s attention. If that was what it would take to stop the comments, then that was exactly what he'd do. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

With a grumble about being late for something, Morceau left the lobby, and Sasha stood there awkwardly for a few moments. He needed to go find Milla.

Sasha made his way down the hallway towards his lab and turned to look at the office next to his - the office that now belonged to his partner, Milla Vodello. She'd just earned the space recently and he couldn't have been prouder.

He could feel that she was in there - Milla tended to keep her mind open to him, allowing him to speak to her telepathically any time he wanted. And he was similarly allowed to enter her office any time he wanted, so he quickly stepped up and allowed the Thinkerprint lock to open the door for him.

Milla wasn't levitating in the middle of the room like he'd expected - instead, she was organizing some books and photos on one of her bookshelves.

“Hello, Sasha!” she chirped happily, still looking at the books in front of her.

“...hello,” he responded. Suddenly, Sasha felt a bit nervous. He could've just told her that he'd volunteered them for camp counselor duty telepathically, he didn't need to come all the way over to her office just to inform her. But he wanted to be present for whatever reaction she had. Maybe she'd be mad and tell him she's not ready, or maybe she'd be very happy and give him a hug.

He liked getting hugs from her.

“How's your day been?” Milla asked, levitating over to him.

“Fine.” Sasha kept his hands in his pockets, but he suddenly had an urge to smoke. He didn't usually have that urge around Milla anymore. “I…I have an important question to ask you.”

She tilted her head adorably. “What is it?”

Sasha stared at her for another moment before answering. “Um…would you be interested in being counselors at Oleander's camp? This August, perhaps?”

Milla’s eyes practically sparkled. “Really?”

“Really. I already asked him about it and there's no one signed up yet.”

She smiled at him - toothy and bright, but a little nervous. “Oh, darling, I-I would absolutely love that! But…”

He raised a single eyebrow curiously. There was a but?

“...I don't want you to force yourself to go just because of me.” She clasped her hands together and held them over her chest. “I'm not even sure if I'm…if I'm ready yet, so we can-”

Sasha interrupted her, not wanting to hear her spiral. “It's not just because of you. I'm very curious about Whispering Rock and seeing what the young psychics are capable of.” He paused, then added, “And for whatever it's worth, I think you're ready.” Sasha hesitated for a moment, then reached out and placed one hand on her shoulder. “You've made a lot of progress since you first started here, Milla. I think you owe it to yourself to try.”

The smile on her face grew bigger and bigger as he spoke, until finally Milla launched herself forward and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and shoulders.

Sasha took a deep breath - he was trying to get less embarrassed when she hugged or kissed him, but it was difficult. He was embarrassed. But he didn't want her to stop.

He still felt himself turn rigid as much as he tried to stop it, and slowly he moved one hand to her back. He could hug her, too. No reason why he couldn't.

Then Milla moved her hands to his head and held it in place while she left multiple little kisses on his cheek. She was definitely very happy with him.

Sasha was soaking up the feeling of her lips. One of her kisses was only an inch away from his own and it was difficult not to sweat at the thought.

“Thank you, Sasha!” Milla finally said, pulling back just a bit but allowing his hand to linger on her back. “I love this idea. I love it. August, right? I can go talk to Morry and see if we need to bring anything…” She sighed deeply and squeezed him tight again before pulling away completely. “We should talk to Hollis and Truman, too, just to make sure it's alright. But I'm sure it will be.”

Sasha’s arms felt cold and empty without her warmth. He stared at her with an absentminded smile, hoping his cheeks weren't as red as they felt (they definitely were). He couldn't fight the little smile on his face and watched as she did a little levitating spin.

“Thank you for this, darling,” Milla said cheerfully, coming down to his level again. She leaned in and gave him a peck on his other cheek. “Thank you, I love you, I'm going to go talk to Morry! I'll let you know what he says!”

She rushed out of the room, leaving Sasha behind to marinate in what just happened. His cheeks were bright red and he felt sweat all down the back of his neck.

She said I love you.

Of course, it wasn't the first time the word love had come up between them. It could be a very playful, platonic term in certain contexts. But usually she'd say it around other people - when asked how their partnership was going, she'd say I love working with Sasha or it's absolutely lovely! or something along those lines.

Never before had she privately told him I love you.

Sasha knew a memory vault would've been forming in his head if not for the detailed filing cabinet of memories dedicated specifically to her. He could hardly believe the Milla Vodello cabinet started out as a single folder.

He continued to stand there in Milla’s office, taking deep breaths and trying to will his heart to stop beating so fast. He was an adult and she was his partner and he needed to figure out how to accept her affections without losing his motor functions. Hugging her back (even a little bit) was somewhat helpful. Perhaps his next step would be to kiss her back.

Sasha’s face heated up immediately at that thought. He would not be doing that.

He…he needed to find some work to do.

“Morry!” Milla shouted, waving at the shorter man.

Oleander turned to look at her, a curious eyebrow raised, but then he seemed to remember something and smiled. “I'm guessing you and Nein talked?”

She levitated closer and smiled. “We did! August works perfectly for me.”

“Alright! That's good to hear!” Morceau opened his little notebook and wrote something down. “I trust you with this more than Nein, but I'm gonna say it anyway. This isn't gonna be some lovey-dovey romantic vacation, got it? Your jobs are to train these kids and that's what I expect to happen!’

Milla tilted her head slightly. Morry made the occasional joke about her and Sasha’s relationship, so it wasn't particularly surprising to hear that he also made them to Sasha. But after the little faux-pas she just committed (saying I love you to her partner was a bit much!), she felt especially embarrassed about it. But how would Morry know that? He was just being the same as usual.

“You don't have to worry about that,” she mumbled, running her fingers through her hair. There was definitely no chance of something romantic happening between them on a normal day - when surrounded by children? Out in the woods? Even less. Negative chances. “Do we need to bring anything?”

Morry shook his head. “Nothing special. Clothes, toiletries, the usual camp stuff.”

“Oh, good. That'll make it easy,” she said with a smile, happy that he didn't try to stick to the subject of romance. “I guess I'll go tell Hollis and Truman-”

“No need! I already took care of it!” Morceau smiled up at her. “Hollis pre-approved any agents who showed interest in the camp for the first two years! And you'll get paid overtime, too! Trust me, Vodello, you're gonna love it there. The great outdoors, the fresh air…and Agent Cruller has been amazing!”

“Huh?” Milla stared at him curiously. “Agent Cruller is there?”

“Mentallis suggested it. Figured the psitanium would be good for the old man’s brain.” Oleander seemed to think of something and then quickly wrote it down. “I don't know if it's been good for him, but he's been cooking and cleaning all over the camp! Making my life a lot easier. At first, I was worried about having him there, but it's been great!”

She nodded, surprised to hear all of that information. “I suppose Agent Mentallis tends to have good ideas.”

“You bet he does!” Oleander said with a smile. “Ooh, speaking of good ideas, I've been thinking about ways to promote the camp to kids who don't have psychic parents.”

“How's that?”

“We need to keep it sort of secretive, y'know, since the average person doesn't understand psychics or Psychonauts or anything we do. But we still want people to be interested, so there needs to be lots of details out there for them to see.”

Milla nodded slowly, no idea where he was going.

“And what do kids love, Vodello, that adults ignore and dismiss as silly?” Oleander spoke like he wanted her to respond, but immediately answered himself. “Comic books!”

Milla stood there awkwardly. She was never much of a comic book reader. “I'm not sure I understand.”

“Hear me out, okay? We produce a series of comic books that detail the exploits that we Psychonauts go on! Psychic kids will read them and know it's real, but random adults will assume it's just another fictional story they can ignore!”

She didn't even know how to word her next question. What the hell was he talking about?

“You seem confused. Let me give you an example,” Morry said, opening his notebook and flipping to a random page near the end. On it, there was a pretty decent drawing of a much younger Grand Head Zanotto shooting out a PSI-blast at an unseen enemy. “This issue would be all about Truman taking down the Psychic Scrambler! I'm just realizing you weren't here for that, but maybe you know about it anyway. The comic would show him at the Motherlobe, getting the assignment, then fighting the Scrambler and taking him back to base for processing! Kids will love it! They'll see this and desperately want to learn more about the Psychonauts!”

Milla held one hand to her chin, still completely confused. “Y'know what, Morry…if you think it'll work, then it's at least worth a shot, right?” She smiled at him, but she also felt like she needed a coffee. “I'm sure Hollis will like it.”

“What will I like?”

The two of them turned to see that Second Head Forsythe had entered the room and was levitating closer to them as they spoke.

“Hello, Hollis!” Milla said with a smile. “Morceau and I were talking about Whispering Rock. Sasha and I just signed up to be counselors in August.”

Hollis smiled and nodded. “That's great to hear. I was wondering when you'd take part.” She turned to look at Oleander. “Is that what I'm going to like?”

“I was telling Vodello here about an inexpensive advertising campaign for the camp!” Morry said with a proud smile. “And it'd be sneaky, too! Only fellow psychics would understand!”

She put a hand on her hip and smiled at him. “Oh, really?”

As Morceau explained his comic book idea to her, Milla watched them and wondered when their relationship had improved so much. Sometimes it felt like she was so focused on her work with Sasha, that she barely paid attention to anyone else anymore. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd hung out with Sherri, and she never worked with Agent 33 anymore. Though there were rumors that 33 avoided working with Sasha whenever possible, so that could've been the reason.

“Y'know what, Oleander?” Hollis said, pulling Milla out of her thoughts. “If you can find an artist for this, then we'll do it. We made so much money from this first week of camp - you've clearly got some great ideas in that head of yours.”

“Yes!” Morry pumped a fist in the air. “I know just the gal!” Then he ran off in another direction, not even bothering to say goodbye.

Hollis looked at Milla and smiled gently. “I'm glad you're going, Milla. Truman will be, too. He was just telling me how he knew you could convince Sasha to go with you.”

Milla chuckled at that. “It was actually the other way around,” she said shyly, tugging some hair behind her ear. She still felt a little embarrassed talking about her partner after what she'd said to him. “Sasha suggested it and convinced me to go!”

The older woman frowned. “Really?”

Milla blinked at her. Why would she lie about something like that? “Um…yes, really. Why?”

“I'm just surprised, is all. Kind of thought Sasha hated kids.” Hollis shrugged, like the suggestion wasn't strange at all. “He's always so awkward around Truman’s daughter.”

Hate seemed a bit strong, in Milla’s opinion. It wasn't like he'd had the opportunity to be around many children before.

“Well, I should be fair to him. He can be awkward around a lot of people. Except for you, of course.”

There were clearly a lot of thoughts running through the Second Head’s mind, and Milla decided she should do her best to clear them up before she said anything else about her partner that wasn't super polite. “Ah, well! Sasha is always supporting me and my, um, mental health journey, so he was probably trying to encourage me! It's very sweet of him.”

Hollis nodded her head slowly and put her other hand on her other hip. “He's really blossomed from working with you, Milla. Honestly, if you saw what he was like when he first came here, you'd hardly recognize him.”

“That's what I've heard,” Milla responded awkwardly. She really wanted that coffee.

“Well, that's good to hear. I hope you two have fun at the camp.” Hollis suddenly closed her eyes, looking like someone was talking to her telepathically. “I've got to go, but I've got a new assignment for the two of you, so make some space in your schedule for a briefing later today. Maybe around 2.”

Milla nodded, happy at the change of subject. “Of course! I'll let Sasha know.”

And then suddenly she was alone in the middle of the lobby. Milla felt oddly vulnerable - the room was too quiet. It felt like anyone and everyone was listening in on her conversations the entire time, even though she knew that wasn't true.

Probably not, anyway.

She ran her fingers through her hair and finally made her way to the Noodle Bowl. She could talk to Sasha again after getting herself a coffee.

Oh, actually - she would get a coffee for him, too! He'd probably like that.

#psychonauts #sashamilla #sasha nein #milla vodello #morceau oleander #hollis forsythe #otto mentallis #carrofics #lunchtime yoga #science party

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outofmyhead · 5 months ago

Text

Hakuouki ~The Floating World~ Chap. 12

From the author: It should be obvious because Hakuouki franchise in general isn’t suited for younger audience but just to be sure, please be at least 18 before reading it <3 This fanfic series may contain lots of sensitive topics (including blood, gore, death, smut and so on) so isn’t recomended for readers who may feel hurt by these. But if you are still here and want to enjoy some dark themes with pretty boys and a bit too clever Reader/MC, please have a seat ^^

Chapter 12: Hikikomori

You have a feeling it’s been months since they’ve thrown you into the dungeons – commonly named „the room” by them. Without the calendar on the wall, you’ve completely lost track of time. The only things defining the flow of time for you have been sunsets, sunrises and regularly delivered meals.

Is this what the prisoners feel when they have to go through the process of resocialization? Right, if they sentenced you to death, you’d probably be feeling more like a prisoner soon-to-be getting rid of by the country on an unknown date. At least you’re in a situation where you don’t need to fret for your life anymore.

However, even though you used to complain a lot about your job, now you have to admit that without it, you just don’t know what to do. Because how much can you actually rest? When working, humans find a goal in their life and the feeling that their doings hold any meaning. The problem appears the moment you work from dawn till dusk, with no breaks for lunch, or in the company of such annoying coworkers that one may as well off themselves.

And if you are to be completely honest with yourself, you really miss it – or just any – job now. Maybe you’re a typical workaholic, who knows. In the end, even when you were doing something for free, you always give it your all, not rarely bringing unnecessary stress on yourself.

Shame that instead of noticing your good intentions and put them to use, Hijikata decided to depart to the other side of the world – for your nineteenth centuries’ calculations, at least. Osaka may not be as far away as Tokyo (or rather Edo); still, getting there requires much more time than in your world.

You sigh heavily, massaging your aching neck. You’ve tried to change positions during sitting to avoid muscle atrophy. But it’s not like you’ve had that many options to choose from – the room’s small and if you wanted to walk from one side to another, you’d only make a few steps.

Finally, your boredom reaches its peak, winning against your fear of getting punished. It’s not like anyone may use any reprimands on you right now – the NPC Hijikata and the NPC Sannan are in Osaka on a mission anyway. Without them, it may be a bit less lively here but it doesn’t seem like any of the captains are going to be harsh on you… even Okita.

That’s why, you look through the window and – after making sure no one’s around – you go sightseeing. Most of the places are already quite well-known to you by now but you suffer from a lack of company – and this has been rather sparse, as when the vicecommander headed south, the captains have been slacking off with their watch; it wasn’t once or twice for them to leave you alone, probably thinking you won’t try stepping out of the room anyway.

The rest can be found here (ao3)

#fanfic #fanfiction #mine #hakuoki #hakuouki #text #fem!reader x character #reader x anime character #reader x character

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gayuu-the-necromancer · 2 years ago

Note

To what I read, I'm not feeling disappointed on Kate.

I was afraid she was gonna try to redeem the love interest but it doesn't seems like it to how she is kinda slowly getting in this villainy words (not that I've read much)

I also like her personality like in the prologue when Victori wanted her to be forever with crown to be a story teller and She says that a month is enough!!!! And she doesn't seems to shy around so easily but kinda be neutral, and I really like that! I don't enjoy the MC's who get embarrassed too much I found them a little annoying unless they are tsundere.

But I actually don't enjoy so much her character design... originally I hoped she would be a noble lady but she is actually a post-woman and this kinda tiring because cybrid doesn't seem to care about changing the MC's life before having a job and be in *insert place where the MC reside*, I really hoped for someone who have like a sad story or a family....but the MC that gets closer to this is Emma (she kinda got half-adopted)

I'm playing Harrison rout by the way! And it's really nicer than what I thought!

Yeah, I'm surprised too. I love how they are changing the whole 'MC pulling the male leads out of darkness and showing them true love' trope. Here it's entirely the reverse. Kate is being pulled towards the darkness or is what I think it is. So I don't really mind if, in the end, she goes entirely crazy and villainy. That would be exciting to see!

Coming to her personality, everyone has their favorites. I don't mind tsundere MCs to some extent as long as they are not straight-up rude! I don't mind shy MCs either. I like how Kate in the prologue is all about 'I won't be able to get my paycheck, I cannot watch my favorite show..'*sad* right after she just witnessed a gruesome murder and is being kidnapped by the murderers. I found it really funny because I think it's way better than her simply trembling like a little rabbit. I also like how she's all about 'getting her work done and going back to her normal life' but in the end, we all know she's gonna stay with the male leads. She is more modest and polite when talking to others. Even in WIlliam's route, she gets all blushy when William or other male leads teases her. I don't know if her personality changes in every route. I hope not!

I don't mind her design that much...she looks like Alice from her hairstyle to her bangs and I love her eyes. At least, be thankful they're not brown. Also yeah, cybird doesn't seem to give much thought about their MCs. None of the MCs have a clear backstory, and if they do, it's half-baked because they think we don't care about the MCs and are only playing their games to see male tits and abs. Except for Yoshino and Mai, none of the other MCs have a goal or an ambition in life. They all just get involved in the male leads' problems and their only goal will be to 'return to their normal lifestyle' I mean why? What's so good about her 'normal lifestyle anyway'? Even William...Yes! William Rex himself asks her what's so good about returning to her normal lifestyle (in chap 4). Even her name----'Kate' is so generic. It's like they thought that name at the last minute. Most probably they decided like this:

cybird staff: "Um, sir, everything is done, but we still haven't decided on the MC's name, yet?"

Game director: "Who cares about the MC? This is an ikemen game. All the players are playing our games see half-naked men nutting with their pants on."

cybird staff: "But sir, we have started giving names to MC since Ikegen."

Game director: "No wonder that game still didn't get an English release. Also, I heard 2 idiots are translating the Ikegen stories on Tumblr, hoping that eng players will finally play it. Hmph, whatever..just search on google for any random English girl names. We will use that."

...And that's how the Ikevil MC was named Kate. I at least think Emma's name is well-thought-out because she's 'Belle' and the 'Beauty' and which actress plays the role of Belle in the Beauty and the Beast movie? ----Emma Watson. lol

Also, another thing I noticed, Cybird took notice of our issues with the story of Ikemen prince. Like, how we all think it's unfair and unreal for Emma who has to choose the king, study and attend the lectures of Sariel, hang out with all the princes to get to know them, and also attend social gatherings, etc. It feels impossible for a real human being. They threw all that out of the window, and now Kate can do whatever she wants, hang out with whichever male leads she wants, write her report whichever way she wants...all of this as long as she doesn't leak their secret. On top of that, she was the one who decided on the time limit, which means, there is no actual time limit. Even after one month, she can still choose to stay with the Crown members if she wants. That means we won't have to complain about time limits. Good cybird, please don't keep these unrealistic time limits for your upcoming games either.

See we must appreciate cybird for doing some things right!

#asks #ikemen villain #ikemen villains #ikemen series #ikemen genjiden #ikemen sengoku #ikemen prince #ikemen vampire #ikemen revolution

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creativenicocorner · 10 months ago

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2023 Writing Retrospective

That time of, hehe, New Year again folks, to contemplate over the rollercoaster event that was my writing journey of 2023!

I'm surprised by how much I did end up writing more than anything! And how some projects bloomed larger than I would have previously imagined. I'd like to think I've improved as well, which is inevitable made by practicing of course. I'm happier with how I write, despite knowing it isn't perfect (then again nothing is lol)

Trying the NaNoWriMo for the first time really changed things up in my approach I think, I'd like to try giving myself more of a disciplined approach to writing a little every day, even if it's one word...but I also realized just how tired I felt after November...so a soft middle ground will probably have to be found. I might try to use the website for other projects and set the deadline for far longer than just a month...we'll see!

I am happy that I'm not as disappointed with my own writing as I was with it last year...perhaps that too is a part of my growth as a writer. Could I have written more? Sure, but I've been far more wary of pushing myself and getting burned out last year. I need to remember to pace myself, to be kind, and that sometimes writing is just loafing about and doing other things and projects - and then the next thing you know WHAM 200 words pop in your head!

Anyways let's look at those cold hard numbers!!

2023 Total number of..

User Subscriptions: 17 Kudos: 341 Comment Threads: 61 Bookmarks: 81 Subscriptions: 70 Word Count: 107,804 Hits: 5,054

Top five hits/fics of 2023:

Glow Worms or rather: In the Depths of the Safflower Hills

Cold Green Tea and Colder Feet

Refrigerator Problem

Hand Rolled

Chapped Lips

2024 Goals

Honestly? To keep trying to make each new chapter / fic seem a little better than the last. Keep the progress going, while still remembering to be patient with myself (I'm not very patient with myself ^^;; )

I know I mention this often, but I'd like to attempt writing a multi-chaptered fic in its entirety before posting chapters...just once! Just to see what it is like. We'll see, we'll see... I'm not like in a hurry haha

I'd like to try and finish some of my Discworld Multi-chaptered fics...perhaps I'll use one of them in this theory, just to test it out. I'd love to get a new The Runaway's Gamble chapter out (or finish the fic this year, but I'm being soft with my goals this year) as well as get another Trial Runs and Errors chapter out (perhaps even finish the fic to start working on the next one in the Maurice and Lipwig series of shenanigans and adventures)

We'll see where my attention and heart takes me, cause it'd also be nice to get Glow Worms and Refrigerator Problem done

And yet I have so many other projects I'd like to jump into, like a Serizawa-centric serirei fic, or to finish Chapped Lips

I mean I know there's no rule in having to finish something before starting something else...technically I AM kind of working on them despite not posting anything...perhaps this is a way I could give that "finish the whole fic before posting it" a shot, or at least an attempt haha

I hope my quality continues to improve - but most of all I hope things become a little better.

If 2023 has taught me one thing, it's: let myself be surprised. And you know? I'd like to keep that energy moving forward into 2024

Thank you for reading this far!

I hope 2024 is kinder to us all than the last year, and we all grow and getting a little closer to our goals and dreams and happiness. Who knows where we'll be this time next year, hopefully it'll be a little better than today.

Anywho, stay awesome out there - don't forget to be kind to yourself and others.

And be safe

Best wishes!

#Nico blabs into the void #Nico Writes #Retrospective #progress report #Discworld #mp100 #serirei #Moist von Lipwig #The Amazing Maurice #Adora Belle Dearheart #Reigen Arataka #Serizawa Katsuya #Hanazawa Teruki #Teru #Kageyama Shigeo #Shigeo Kageyama

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thesoftestpunk · 2 years ago

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Co- Aquatainenceship 9

Summary: You’re just two ex-assassins trying to navigate your way through normalcy, but you’re also huge idiots. In an attempt at getting Bucky out of his shell, you offer to catch him up on everything he’s missed. Including trashy YA novels.

Pairing: cw!Bucky Barnes x female!Reader

Word count: 6.4k

A/N: I have been struggling so hard to write lately :(( quick shoutout to @sanguineterrain for helping me find the end to the chap but also the courage to get it done!!

Warnings: angst, talk about depression, fluff, injuries, blood, and stitches. can't forget smoking

Series Masterlist

So you don’t talk about it. It being your feelings, but you didn’t want to when he was out of town for the next week, doing a multitude of interviews with Tony and Natasha. Pepper had come up with a simple PR plan to roll out the new phase of the Avengers, and it included Bucky. They wanted to show people he was harmless, but you’re not sure putting him on live television was such a good idea. He glared down at every camera, and intimidated every interviewer despite their best efforts at making him look less intimidating. You tease him relentlessly when his days are over, but he begs you to stop watching them. You give in after day three when you keep hearing the same handful of answers.

With your time off, you almost don’t know what to do. You try filling every moment that you’re awake because if you think, you spiral. So you run, smoke a whole pack a day, and sometimes box.

On one of your slower days, you wander up to the roof. Not many people go up there, and Tony hates it when they do, but there’s two shitty plastic lawn chairs to gaze up at the stars. Everything feels unsettled and shifted, but just looking up and zoning out helped.

“I thought you quit years ago.” Steve moves the spare chair next to yours and it groans under his weight.

“No need to keep the clueless act, Stevie.” You stub the cigarette out anyway, knowing the smell still puts him off. Bucky had told you his anxieties only came from when he was a small kid with asthma before the serum. “Bucky let the cat out of the bag months ago.”

“Well, I’m surprised it never occurred to you sooner.”

“Just wanted to tell myself you didn’t notice I guess. I know how you feel about them.”

Steve stays quiet as he leans back, the chair creaking so loud you’re sure it’s going to break.

“How are you doing? Really. You never liked time off before.”

“No, I know. You were right. I needed it.” You sigh. “Everything feels kinda fucked. I’ve never really felt… lost. There was always an end goal somewhere. How did you always know that you were doing the right thing?”

“I didn’t.” He says honestly. You know it by the haunted look in his eyes. “But it always felt right. Sometimes things just don’t turn out, no matter how well you stick to the plan.”

“Right.” You look down to the gravel, still feeling a little small. Even when admitting he wasn’t always right, Steve felt so perfect to you. The great American hero, but in your eyes, the altruistic big brother. “Never did say sorry for the kid dying, did I?”

“No, y/n. You didn’t—“

“I’m not-“ you interrupt then sigh, trying to gather your words. Steve’s patient, watching you without judgment. “I’m not saying sorry for getting him killed. I already did that, but I’m just saying. He was on our team. I’m just sorry we lost someone on our team.”

“You lose people sometimes.”

“Still sucks though.”

“It does.”

It’s quiet as you both look up to watch the stars and the occasional plane fly by. You liked these little moments with him. He always knew how to lift your spirits, just the slightest bit, even if you were the one venting most of the time. You’re sure he’s just happy to see you not locked up in your room for days on end.

“I think I might need more time?” It comes out more as a question than a statement, feeling a sudden rush of tears.

“I’ll let Tony know.” He almost goes into work mode until he looks over at you looking a little crushed. “Come on. Sam’s back from his sisters and I know you love her cooking. Maybe Bruce will show you some of his new gadgets too.”

He leads you back to the roof door, holding it open for you. It’s almost too quiet in the elevator and you’ve honestly been dying to ask.

“So…” you start, turning to him with a sly grin. “Do I get to know her name?”

“Who?”

“The girl you’ve been seeing, Steve.” You roll your eyes. “You had a red kiss stain on your cheek all of Monday afternoon.”

His face turns as red as the lipstick that had been stuck to him and you almost double over in laughter.

“Buck is only gone for one more day, you know.”

Your laughter stops. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“If I recall correctly, you smelled a lot like Bucky's cologne when you came back Monday.”

“Can we rewind and I make fun of you for saying gadgets instead?”

You wait outside Bucky's building, bouncing anxiously as you hope you timed his departure from the compound correctly. Some passerby give you looks as you hang out on the edge of the curb, leaning casually against the car beside you. The roar of a motorcycle makes you perk up, turning just in time to catch him pulling up and killing the engine. You stay in your spot, two cars away as he removes his helmet and goes for his things. Not before acknowledging your presence of course. His hair has been trimmed since you’ve last seen him in person and his face is completely smooth. It makes him look less intimidating upon first glance, and you know for a fact the pepper made him do it. He had looked even less intimidating on tv, being dressed in lighter colored clothing, opposite of the black clothes he wears now.

“Steve said you weren’t around.” Bucky says when he’s standing in front of you, looking as antsy as you probably do.

“I was a little busy with this.” You gesture to the old and pale colored jeep wrangler behind you. “Ta-da!”

“It’s a jeep.” He states simply.

“Well. Yeah, but it’s my Jeep. That I drove alone.”

“Wait, you…” realization dawns on him and you quickly pull out the temporary paper one the dmv gave you.

“You’re looking at the new owner of a driver's license!” You barely show it off before he’s pulling you into a hug, spinning you around. He sets you down, hands lingering on your hips as you let out remnants of laughter.

“Everyone better watch out with that lead foot of yours, doll.”

You give his shoulder a good punch, which only makes him laugh. There’s a moment where you watch his eyes fall to your lips before coming back up to your eyes. Home always looked good on him, the bags under his eyes lessening from the inconsistent sleep. He just always looked happy to be in Brooklyn, that boyishness returning full force. He's taking a step back and picking up his bags that he dropped in excitement and invites you in with a nod toward his building.

“You could have let yourself in.” He says when you’re alone in the elevator.

“I don’t need your neighbors thinking I’m some crazy ex or something trying to break in.”

“Sounds like you need a key then.”

You hope you keep your cool, but by the smug look on his face, your shock is obvious.

“Beer?” Bucky offers, setting his bags down by the couch to be forgotten until later.

“Yes please.”

“We can sit out on the fire escape if you want a smoke.” He had noticed when your anxious energy hadn’t dissipated. “Go ahead. I’ll grab a few.”

You climb outside, taking a seat on one of the stools he’d placed there when you found yourselves there more often than on his couch. Your leg bounces because you’re going to tell him damn it. Avoiding the conversation is only going to make things worse. It already has if your fight was anything to go off of. His tags sit heavy on your chest, and you toy with them while he moves around his kitchen. He’d heard them clinking together when you walked, but he wasn’t going to bring it up until you did. He didn’t really have any real need for them, and he gave them to you for a reason. A promise. That didn’t have to end every time he came home. Plus, he imagined the simple chain looked great on you, and he can’t find it in himself to scold his brain for thinking of your chest. Not even naked. God, he’s become a simp. Even though he’s still not completely sure what that means.

His footsteps have you hiding the tags back underneath the collar of your shirt.

“Careful,” he warns when the bottle almost slips through your nervous hand. Grabbing your favorite pack of cigarettes from the window sill, he taps it against his palm a few times before slipping one out, lighting it and offering it to you.

“I’m quitting,” you blurt out.

“Oh.” He isn’t sure what to say as he rolls the cigarette between his fingertips, unsure of what to do with it now. “Steve get to you finally?”

“Not- I mean I do feel a little guilty now that I know he knows but, no. I’m not quitting smoking. I’m quitting the team, Buck. It’s why I got my license, a car.”

It’s quiet for a long time, and you avoid looking at him in fear of seeing the possible rejection on his face. Eventually, you take the cigarette he keeps playing with instead of smoking, and take in a long breath as he thinks to himself. You wait with baited breath, and when he looks at you calmly, you blow it out quickly.

“Where are you gonna go?” There’s concern hidden underneath the curiosity, but you’re able to decipher it from his tone.

“Not sure.” You shake your head as you offer it back, letting him take a drag as you steal a sip of beer. “They’re kind enough to scout a few places. Make sure it’s safe.”

“And what will you do?”

Turning your head, you smile softly as you shake your head once more. “I never really thought about that. What did you do in your time in Romania?”

No one’s asked him that out of genuine curiosity before. It was always accusatory or for the record. He’s taken by surprise, in all honesty.

“Whatever odd jobs I could find. Nothing with official paperwork.”

“Of course.” You respond softly, understanding it would have created problems. “Well, my offer still stands,” you tease a bit as you reach for your own beer. “I think it’d be fun to be roomies.”

“I can’t, sweets.” He looks to his lap dejectedly.

“No, I- I understand.” You try to not show the hurt despite not being fully serious about the offer. “Your home is in Brooklyn. It’ll probably be closer to Steve and Sam… and I was totally kidding.”

“I mean, I can’t. They want me for at least another year.”

“What? Who exactly is ‘they?’ Tony? Fury?”

“Don’t make a fuss,” he pleads. I’m not sure I’m worth all this, Steve.

“Why not?”

“Gotta pay my dues. It came with my parole.”

You stand, clenching your jaw as you move to lean over the railing. There’s a heavy sigh from behind you and the old fire escape creaks when he moves next to you.

“It’s not just about me having to work for them, is it?” He’s quiet, cautious.

“Who’s gonna look after you when I’m gone?”

“when it’s not you, it’s Steve.”

“Steve doesn’t make a fuss like I do.”

“Well, you both know how to make yourselves heard.” It makes your mouth twitch but you work hard to keep frowning. “I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself.”

“It’s nice to have help though.”

“It is.” He smiles. “But you’ll visit and when you do, you can help me with normal things. Like when the damn tv misbehaves.”

“You need to be nicer to it or you’re buying another one.”

He chuckles softly, plucking the cigarette from between your fingers. As he takes a drag, you see the frown and stress line between his eyebrows. Tilting your head, you wait for it to dissipate along with the smoke, but it never does.

“What? Worried about me? I’ll be fine, Buck.”

He flicks the excess ash off with his thumb, watching some of it fall on his boot. “Your mother reached out to me. I guess Emily seeing me on tv sent her into a frenzy, but she said she wants to look for you again.”

“What did you say?” You wrap your arms around yourself, a nervous habit. It isn’t his fault she reached out, so you keep your anxiety from turning into anger.

“That Avengers don’t really take missing persons cases.” There’s an obvious pause, you realize, as he sticks the cigarette between his teeth to run his hands through his hair anxiously. “But that I would reach out to some of my contacts. That being… you.”

“I’m scared shitless.” You take the cigarette right from his mouth. At this point, you aren’t sure why you share when you both just end up stealing it from one another.

“I know that.” He leans against the railing, crossing his arms over his chest. You’re not sure if the railing or his shirt can handle the pressure. “It just got me thinking, if you’re getting out, it’s a good time to let them know. You don’t have to worry about anyone going after them. Worry about running into them either.”

“I think I’ll always worry.”

“I’ll go with you if you don’t think you can do it alone.”

“You would?” It surprises you. “You always said you didn’t want to go with me to meet them. That you’d rather lose another arm.”

“I never-“ he sighs, defeated, realizing he may have said it once facetiously. “I was being a coward. Couldn’t do it for my sister, so how could I do it for you?”

“Your sister was alive?”

“Passed before we became friends.”

“Buck…”

“Look, it’s not about me, sweets.” He pulls you in, wrapping his arms around your waist. Your chest presses against him and you’re sure he can feel your heart racing. “You want me there?”

“Yes.” You wrap your arms around his torso, squeezing him into a tight hug. “What would I do without you?”

“Crash and burn evidently.”

You pinch his ribs, making him yelp in surprise.

You let Bucky reach out to your mom, too afraid to do it yourself. She answers almost instantly and then you’re met with the fact that you actually have to set up a time to meet. You’re too overwhelmed so you let her pick, and when the day finally arrives, you think you’re going to be sick.

“We aren’t taking your bike?” You practically pout when you meet with Bucky at his place to go meet your parents.

“We can if you really want, but I was afraid Emily would want a ride and I’m not putting your mother through that kind of stress.”

“Oh, you make a good point.” The nerves come through in your tight laugh.

“Is that okay?”

“Yes!” You answer all too quickly. “Yes. It’s just… it's been awhile since I’ve done the whole train thing.” It’s only a half lie on why you were acting so nervous, but you don’t have to explain for him to know.

“I’ll be close by.” Bucky holds his arm out for you to loop yours through and leads you to the subway.

It’s jam packed for the middle of the day, but Bucky takes care of the passes, what platform you need to be at and when. Anything to prevent you from getting any more stressed than you already are. On the train, you’re pressed into Bucky, your back meeting his front. When the train moves and you bump further into him, unable to get a hold of anything in time, he just reaches around to hold you in place.

“I got ya,” he whispers into your neck, making your stomach flip over.

You burrow further into him, arm resting over his, and pretend to hide into him. It just was hard being in the same city you were taken, on a train no less on your way to school, but you knew how to blend in with ease. You know even better that kirsch could never take you again, assured many times by Steve that you had gone through with that plan, and he was buried alone. You could always use your anxiety to your advantage to get lost in a crowd, but Bucky keeps you in place easily. Ignoring your obvious nail biting, a curse to yourself as you loved Natasha’s flawless natural nails, he only swats at your hand once.

When you get off the train and head above ground, Bucky gets distracted by a floral stand along the way. Despite your eye rolling, you’re endeared by his insistence of getting flowers any time he meets a girl's mother. You think you might get down on one knee when he gets a single rose for your little sister. Your palms begin to sweat when you enter the park you agreed to meet at and when you see your mom and dad sitting on a bench watching your sister, you stop.

“Oh,” you breathe out, feeling like all the air has escaped your lungs.

“You okay?” Bucky brings a hand to your lower back, worried by the look on your face.

“Yeah I just- it’s really happening.” You turn to look at him, eyes wide and brows furrowed with worry. “Just scared… give me one second to take it all in.”

“Take all the time you need, sweets.”

“Maybe we should’ve rethought the flowers.” You turn to him quickly, too afraid to be the one to catch your parents attention first. “Or the whole thing.”

“Y/N—“

“My mother is a florist for christ's sake,” you try to argue. “The carnations were a terrible idea. Why’d I let you get away with that?”

“I’m not sure that matters at this point.”

Turning, you see your mother, and then consequently your father, both watching you in happy shock.

“Oh, my baby.” You hear your mom's voice crack as she stands from the bench, just as afraid as you are to move any closer. You do when she takes a tentative step forward, hand pressed against her own chest. Nearly running, you collide into the both of them, arms wrapping around them desperately as they cling on to you just as tight.

“Hi,” is all you can muster against your mom's shoulder.

“You’ve- well you’ve grown!” She lets out a wet laugh as she takes you in, almost in disbelief at what she was seeing.

“It’s been, um, awhile.” You try to blink the tears away. Glancing behind you, Bucky stands where you left him. You wave him over subtly, not fully prepared to be on your own. “Mom, you’ve met Bucky.”

“Yes! Mr. Barnes,” she holds out a hand which he takes before offering the flowers.

“Mr. Bucky! Mr. Bucky!” Emily comes bounding up to all of you, ponytail bouncing. “You did it? You found her?”

“He did.” You kneel down to get to her level. “You must be Emily.”

She looks up at you in awe, and it’s a little shy, but she hugs you to cover it up. Bucky gives you the single rose to give her, and she jumps in excitement. The questions begin, and Bucky is quick to pick up on your nervous glances to your little sister. You had promised full transparency, but you wanted to filter what the little five year old got to hear. He offers to take her on a quick walk, which your dad seems hesitant about, but you reassure him quickly. Then you’re all sitting and they look at you too expectantly. It’s hard at first, telling them how scared you were and what all you went through, and maybe you lighten up a few details. The tears in their eyes never go away, and when you explain what Steve and the rest of the team did for you, your mother looks relieved.

“Sorry, but why now?” Your father asks innocently.

“What do you mean?”

“You said that man, Kirsch, died six years ago, right? How come you didn’t reach out sooner?”

You look away, unsure at first, but then you see Bucky holding your little sister's hand, and laughing at some story she’s expertly telling. The answer is almost entirely her. They got another girl, and they didn’t have to worry about you any more, but in all honesty, when Tony found your parents' information, Emily didn’t exist at all. Your parents were still in grief and in denial. You aren’t sure what changed. Maybe it was the fact that Emily just happened to be a surprise, and they figured they could try again. Without you. So you had agreed to join the team instead of facing rejection or disappointment.

“I dunno,” your voice is small as you look at your hands. “I- I was an assassin. Didn’t think there was much redemption in that.”

“Oh, sweetheart…”

“Look, I know that you’re my parents and you’ll love me no matter what, but you said that when I was a kid. I stopped being that kid the day I got taken and I’ve killed people. it just- the idea of you being disappointed just made me too scared.”

Neither of them try to give you any platitudes. Instead, they hug you tight, and let you cry. No one tries to carry the blame over anyone else. You’ve all somehow come to that silent agreement. They just end up doing exactly what you need, love you.

“Em sure is a firecracker.” You comment once the tears are over and she’s begged Bucky to let her hang from his prosthetic arm just ‘one more time!’

“Wonder where she gets that from,” your father teases, side-eyeing you. “I should probably relieve your friend there.”

“Friend, hm?” Your mother nudges your shoulder when your dad is far enough away.

“Okay,” you roll your eyes. “Yes. Bucky is a friend.”

“A friend who brought your mother flowers.”

“He’s old fashioned.”

Your mother hums, not quite believing you, and drops it. But when he gives you a smile over his shoulder, you seem unable to.

“He’s… complicated.” Your shoulders and smile drop when his attention is taken away. “We both sort of are. I’m not sure it’ll go anywhere.”

“How come?”

“I’m quitting the whole avenging thing. Moving somewhere else. Close enough to see you guys of course, but…”

“Far enough to make it complicated with him?”

“It’s all a bit complicated.” You sigh.

“Let life settle down again. It’ll surprise you.”

After you all grab a quick bite to eat, you part ways, accepting too many stickers from your little sister on the way. On the train back, you’re both able to sit, and you recall the way your parents had looked exactly the same, just a little older. You have to retrace their faces from old memories to remember the way they look now.

“You’re staring.” You tell Bucky on the third stop.

“Just… observing.” You give him a pointed look at his response you gave him too many times. “I’m proud of you for doing that.”

“Oh my god,” you balk. “Do not make me cry on this train!”

“I’m serious!”

“I know, but I swear to god, if I cry one more time today…” you leave the empty threat out in the open, face softening at his sincerity. “Thank you.”

“So, when is your last mission?” He changes the subject to work quickly.

“My last mission was my last one.”

“Oh, so you’re just done now?” He almost seems disappointed by that.

“Well, Steve’s putting me on desk duty until I decide what to do. Where to go. Thinking I might actually get some sort of degree.”

“Don’t you have enough credits for at least three?”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, well, apparently they’re begging Tony to make me decide. I’ll have to take a few extra to, you know, finish it out, but I dunno. Maybe linguistics since I have the most credits for that, but what actual paying job can I get with that?”

“You’ll figure it out. You’ve got time.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.” You pout and play with the zipper of his leather jacket. “So. Your sister.” Bucky sighs because he knew you wouldn’t be able to drop it, but he isn’t annoyed. “Was she the same one from the photo of you dancing?”

“Yes, Rebecca.”

“It’s okay you couldn’t go see her.” You’re cautious, watching his posture and facial expressions closely. “I wish you could have, though.”

“I was still recovering.” They hadn’t even given him his new arm, yet. “I’m not sure they would’ve even entertained the idea, and I know that just makes you mad, but…”

“No, I get it.” You rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth even through the layers. “I was on a short leash too. Still haven’t decided if it was good or not, but they unfortunately had a very good point.”

“You’re still a flight risk sometimes,” he teases.

“I think I’ve found my reason to stay.”

Laying your head on his shoulder, you let the noise of the subway take over between you.

Tapping your pen against your desk, you try to not let your head drop from boredom. Steve was right in saying you were never good with time off, but you didn’t realize desk work would be ten times worse. You yearn to text your fellow teammates about any and all updates on their respective missions, begging for the nitty gritty details. You’ll even take having to hear about a black eye adorning Bucky’s face for the sake of your brain not rotting, but they give you nothing. Everything seems to go perfect, and you’re left bitterly tapping your pen as you stare at numbers. It’s been three weeks of this. You had even bought matching pants and blazers in excitement. The initial giddiness in a change of pace had worn off quickly, and you became a part of the corporate drones you had heard so much about from your endless journey of media deep dives. You honestly consider starting a fight. Drama. Something.

A knock on your cubicle brings you out of your wallowing. Bucky, a beautiful reprieve, stands with a takeout bag in hand.

“What’s this?” You eye him warily, but smile at the interruption.

“Heard the fridge busted and you lost your lunch for the day.” He has this knowing look, like he had heard your grumbled curses and banging a fist on the fridge door that morning. It wasn’t your proudest moment. “Have you taken your break yet?”

“No.” Your grin grows bigger, the thought of getting Bucky for an entire hour uninterrupted making your skin crawl with anticipation. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Take your break with me and you’ll find out, doll.”

You find a bench outside, looking out to the large field, and he unpacks the food for you. You’re giddy as he hands the take out bowl of dim sum. The sun feels warm on your skin, and you’re just relieved to get out of the dreary office.

“Are you sleeping okay?” Bucky looks over your face once more, but you’ve covered the heavy bags underneath your eyes with makeup. A skill you’ve learned over the years to hide any injuries if necessary for work.

“Is this a friendly lunch or an interrogation?” Your voice is light, almost teasing to hide the nervous pain you feel from the question. If his intention hadn’t been because you couldn’t take your lunch, it would almost feel like a betrayal.

“Friendly.” His frown deepens, insulted by your insinuation. “I want to know you’re okay. You’ve been… small.”

“Small?” A soft laugh escapes at that.

“You’re usually so present and there, but these past few weeks,” he looks down and shakes his head. “I can see your mind wandering, and you’re not here much anymore. Just don’t want to see you that bad again.”

“Well, I’ve been leaving my room.” Your hands find something to fidget with, and you’re hesitant to look at him.

“Sweets,” he sets down his bowl and takes your nervous hands. Looking him in the eye, you can see a million words processing in his mind as he searches in your eyes. “I can help. If you want it or need it.”

“Buck,” you roll your eyes, unable to keep this conversation serious. “You help me just fine.”

“You swear?” He looks for your tells, but comes up empty. He looks so scared and you can’t seem to understand why. Why would someone worry so much about you? “No night terrors? Anything?”

“There’s… been a few nightmares, but look,” you wave off his worry, letting one of your hands escape. He refuses to let the other one go, slotting your fingers together in urgency. “I’m getting out of bed and going to a mind numbing job everyday. That’s good, right? I normally just… wallow in self pity. I’m not great, but I’m good, Buck. No need to stress.”

“Y/N, I…” he hesitates, watching the microexpressions in your face change at the use of your name. No cute terms of endearment. You soften so much, he stops himself from telling you outright that he loves you. Because he can see the tiredness in your eyes despite your expert makeup skills, and he tells himself to wait just a little longer. It isn’t the right time, and he doesn’t want to overwhelm you any more than you already are. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Nat wants to take me out for drinks tonight. As an unofficial goodbye party. Why don’t you come?” You want to prove to him that you’re doing fine, even though you would much rather get in bed early with a book.

“Can’t.” He looks sheepish as he picks his lunch back up. “Doing some recon later.”

“Well, I appreciate this, thank you.”

The sharp sound of knocking interrupts you from getting ready, hair halfway pulled back as you were about to fix your makeup. You’re afraid it’s Nat, as you get up to open the door, having shown up early. Bucky leans heavily against the doorframe. He’s beat up pretty good, bottom lip busted and scattered bruises littering his face. There’s dirt on his tac gear that he still has on, but most of all he looks tired.

“I didn’t know you were back so soon.”

“Finished early,” he grumbles out. Taking note of his leaning, your eyes fall down his arm, and you see blood on his hand that presses into his side.

“Jesus, buck!” Without a second thought, you pull him into your room. Both of you stumble over his weight as he leans against you heavily.

“‘M fine,” he mumbles as you drop him a bit unceremoniously onto the love seat in front of the window.

“I- we…” Normally you’re more level headed than this, but you usually have the time to get in the proper head space before missions. A surprise visit covered in blood was going to give you some panic. “I need to go get help.”

Just before you can walk away, Bucky’s free hand grabs your wrist. “They taught you how to stitch someone up, didn’t they?”

“Yes, but this requires a trip to the infirmary. Not my bedroom.” You gesture vaguely to his still bleeding wound.

“I’m not going to the infirmary.” he says firmly, the grip he has on your wrist tightening slightly.

“You are bleeding on my couch.” You can see where it just starts to soak into the material. That stain will never come out, you know it.

“I don’t need it to be perfect. Just something to get me by for the next few days.” It wasn’t going to take long to heal, but that didn’t mean they could just leave it be and hope for the best. “Come on, before someone overhears.”

Rolling your eyes with a dramatic huff, you pull your wrist from his grasp to go close the door. Not before poking your head out into the hallway, looking for any signs of life. When you know you’re in the clear, you close her door, and head straight for the bathroom. While shuffling in the cabinet underneath the sink for the kit you swear you own, you raise your voice slightly to speak to him.

“We need to stop the bleeding before I can do anything.” You almost shout in victory when you spot the red box, and grab a few towels. “First we’ll need to get your shirt off.”

As he struggles out of his layers, you drag your nightstand closer to lay out all of the items as neatly as you can. Taking one of the hand towels, you have him hold it firmly in place so you can go scrub your hands clean. It’s nearly soaked through by the time you find a comfortable position to work in.

“Let me see?” You ask softly.

Your hands hover over his as he peels the towel back with a tiny wince. It wasn’t as much as you’d like but you could work with it. Using the same towel, you hold it under the wound, pouring disinfectant over it and then patting it dry. He tries to not hiss in pain the entire time, jaw clenched tight. While you turn to get the needle and thread ready, he slings his arm over the back of the couch to grant you easy access.

“What were you thinking?” You ask quietly, the needle going through his skin easily.

“Yippee, I’m a hero,” Bucky deadpans.

“You seem to have forgotten I’m the one stitching you up. Should I check for a concussion too? Maybe terminal dumbass disorder while we’re at it.”

“What do you want me to say?” He flinches when you stab him harshly out of anger.

“I don’t like you going on solo missions.” Shaking your head softly, you keep focus on the task at hand rather than his reaction to that. “You should have asked me to come along. I was probably the only one who didn’t have anything going on.”

“You said you had the night off.”

You hum softly, not impressed with his lame excuse. “Well, now I get to end it by cleaning a stain that might never come out.”

“Shit,” he mutters, not having realized the blood reached the cushions. Without thinking, he moves to check the damage.

“Hey, hey, whoa!” Your hand falls onto his stomach to steady him, nearly having pierced his skin in the wrong place. “Easy, hotshot. I’m not quite finished yet.”

Your hand glides over his skin before returning back to where it had been previously.

“Got blood on your dress too.” Bucky mumbles, taking the fabric between the fingertips of his free hand.

“It’s okay, I-“ you laugh softly, bashful as his skin grazes against your legs. “I didn’t really want to go.”

“How come?”

“I dunno. Maybe Nat would say I’m looking for a reason to back out, but I’d rather be here with you. Bloody or not.”

There’s a thick silence as his hand falls on your thigh, squeezing in surprise by the admission. You scoff, returning to your needlework so you don’t get embarrassed by looking him in the eye.

“God, that sounded corny. I just- well, it’s true. I don’t wanna go to a bar full of strangers where some guy is probably going to hit on me or insult me by accident. Probably wouldn’t put up with me torturing him with candy or cheesy movies that physically make you cringe. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. I want a guy who’s gonna dance with me because he knows I never have. If… if that makes sense.”

It’s a full admission, he’s beginning to realize. It’s him. You want him. Even though you can’t make yourself say the words, he still knows you mean it. Because you wouldn’t be shaking otherwise. You had the steadiness of a sharpshooter, and the only time you faltered was when feelings got involved. You’re so close, it doesn’t take much movement for his lips to capture yours, causing you to freeze and almost drop the needle. His hand slides up your thigh, sneaking underneath the skirt of your dress because he needs to feel your warmth. To know that he’s actually kissing the woman of his dreams.

“Hey,” you whisper against his lips, laughter bubbling in your throat. Pulling back, you see the slight fear in his eyes. “I should finish this up before we… do whatever, don’t you think?”

“I’ll be fine.” He leans back in, but frowns when a hand on his chest stops him. Albeit a little dramatically, he throws his head back on the couch and lets your gentle hands continue working. It’s silent for a while, and while you’re tying the knot to finish, he speaks again. “I think you should stay.”

“Buck,” your shoulders drop at that, and set the tools down. “I can’t. They’ve already found a place for me. I’m supposed to be getting a fresh start. I mean… how are we supposed to do this? Won’t it just be–”

“Complicated?”

Your face burns in embarrassment. “You heard that?”

“Doll,” he shakes his head, not wanting you to worry about that, and holds your cheek in his flesh hand, thumb tracing a circle along your jaw. “It’s now or never. I already thought I would lose you when you leave.”

“Of course you won’t!”

“You’ve got everyone here. Wasn’t I your reason for staying?”

“Yes, but I–” you realize you’re doing it again. You’re running away to avoid the hard feelings. The fear of rejection or worse. Loss. “Steve’s gonna be so pissed.”

“Who cares?”

Fuck.

“I’m scared.” Your voice shakes along with the hand that you bring up to the nape of his neck, and press your forehead against his.

“That’s okay, sweets. I am too.”

“Okay.” You breathe out as you close your eyes. “Okay, I’ll stay.”

Bucky kisses you like you’re leaving, but he stays, wrapped in your arms until the exhaustion makes him sleep.

Tag list:

@buckymcbuckbarnes @enchantedbarnes @buckybarnesowl (if I mistakenly tagged you, I'm sorry. I lost my tag list and tried to figure out who asked)

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #co-a #my writing

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parkerlyn · 2 years ago

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Hi all!

Still alive! ajdfkla And hope you all had a wonderful holiday season and are excited for what 2023 has to offer! Wishing everyone an overflowing amount of joy this new year 🧡

So! We're back at it again! This update covers:

Story Progress and Update Goal

Commission/Prize Updates

January Patreon Schedule

Donation Screenshots

Story Progress and Update Goal

Writing is progressing along and managed to pack in another 20k into Chap 4 in December before taking a bit of a break for the holidays. The rest of Chapter 4 is... turning into a bit of a monstrosity as they have wont to do haha. The good news is Chapter 5 will be relatively straightforward, which will allow me to focus more on the big reveal at the end. 👀

I don't want to give a definitive update day for you again because I feel intensely super shit about the last time I did that in Oct/Nov. 😫 I think I should be able to have this chapter to betas by the end of this month, but I'll be sure to keep y'all updated.

Commission/Prize Updates

Still working on one Patreon writing commission and the two prizes from the giveaway, and thank you to everyone for being my test round of what-can-Parker-handle-all-at-once. The answer turned out to be they-overloaded-themself-like-usual, but I'll be reaching out to y'all with a status/final pieces in the next couple weeks!

January Patreon Schedule

Jan 4 - Public Progress Update | Monthly Preview Screenshot

Jan 11 - Bonus Art (18+) : Figure study with the Magesmith

Jan 18 - Biweekly Update | Bonus Art: The Magesmith's family

Jan 25 - Bonus Story: In Another Life (ft. The Sage, the Magesmith, the Healer, Jac & Cerise)

And just a reminder that the Patreon has now switched to subscription billing vs 1st of the month. Any new patrons will now be charged on the same day of the month that they signed up!

End of Year Donation Screenshots

Lastly, accountability screenshots for my donations are below. Differing amounts are to cover their individual processing fees, and this was for October, November, and December earnings given the two-month charge pause!

Thank you again for all your support and patience <3 Stay safe!

xoxo Parker 🧡

#interactive fiction #the nameless #tnif #progress update #the nameless progress update #fantasy #fey #romance #indie dev #indie games #itch io #twine #twine game

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satancopilotsmytardis · 1 year ago

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7, 9, and 17!

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

I like just being able to make something entirely with words! Whole worlds, histories, feelings! Just made out of strings of letters. I have always been a person who like making things, so writing is a wonderful way of doing so for me.

9. Do you believe in ghosts? This isn’t about writing I just wanna know

I believe that the energy of living things must be changed in some fundamental way when it leaves the body and I believe that people may not fully understand that process. (I have no fucking clue but sometimes places do be 'spooky' in strange imperceptible ways and I'm open to the possibility that ghosts are the cause.)

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

I have. NINE current WIPS. Thankfully I can group up a good number of them.

I have a bunch of installments in the Mishap series that I'm working on which while looking like nothing more than PWPs, are actually a fun way of exploring emotional intimacy as much as physical intimacy because one of my favorite things to do is discuss the idea of BDSM as a way of exploring vulnerabilities that it might be uncomfortable or frightening to do in other settings.

There's also Bonded, which I am really struggling with. I started writing the series just because I was having fun playing with a lot of silly ideas, but Shattered is much more serious in tone and while I usually love that, and I have a full outline of Shattered as well as outlines for the next two installments as well, I just haven't found the joy in it that I did in the beginning. I really like how chapter 6 wraps up, and it's been torture trying to move on to chapter 7. I don't know when I'll get over that hump, but it's been 3 months and I still haven't managed it yet.

Tumblr prompts, going well enough. Taking this as an opportunity to just write fast(ish) snippets. I often really want to linger and show how relationships develop thoroughly because (and especially with ShigaDabiHawks) I need a believable progression to show how those character could have possibly ended up together when they're at odds with each other's goals. However, for these I'm just going ham and that's a nice little change of pace.

Stalling out on the original piece (shigadabi with the serial numbers filed off because I wanted to use an original fantasy setting I've used for other OC work). Having trouble balancing how to progress the plot without losing the spark between the two characters after a... disagreement.

The Hanahaki piece is my fucking baby right now. Feeling as good about this one as I did about Honeytrap and Grey Area. It's so achingly tender and I love it to absolute bits. I have one area that I'm still trying to make a decision on and thought that the tumblr prompts would be a good way to step back and give it some breathing room after banging out 27k for it in two days. I'm very excited about this one.

And last but not least, the Time Travel fic! I'm enjoying this one too but I'm thinking about it logistically right now and trying to decide if I'm going to make it a multi-chapter or not. I usually don't like to do that because I write very differently for a multi-chap than I do for a one-shot and I much prefer the style of writing for an insanely long one-shot than a multi-chap (yes this may be why Shattered is fucking me up so badly, also why I really hated Playing Favorites by the end), but I'm not sure if it would be too jarring to go from Hawks' POV to Dabi's after minimum of 12K in Hawks' POV, but I need some scenes to be from Dabi's so eeehhhh. I'll figure it out. I like this one, alternate timelines are always fun to play around with and the butterfly effect here is so fucking strong.

I think I'm going to be finishing the Tumblr prompts before going back to the Hanahaki fic, but we'll see! And this is all dependent on me not starting any more pieces in the meantime. Which. Oof.

Thanks for asking!

#tanco speaks #ask #asks #writer ask game

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ppg-villains-defense-lawyer · 2 years ago

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Since I've gone from being scheduled for almost no days to All The Days, the next chapter is going to take a bit longer than usual to get out. My goal is to get as much writing done today as possible, and hopefully have chap 16 up before the end of the month.

#i usually like to update at least every two weeks but that's definitely not happening this time lol #when i checked my google doc last it said ''8 days since last edit'' 😬#i've also been busy with some personal stuff #fanfic stuff #sins of my youth

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luxurybeautyreviews · 6 months ago

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#Beautyreview #LipMask #OvernightTreatment #Skincare #Tatcha

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al1x00 · 4 months ago

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⚠️CHAP. 7 SPOILERS⚠️

"CW POISONED WITHOUTH YOUR KNOWLEDGE"??? KATY WHO TF HURT YOU?😭😭😭

OH SO THAT'S WHAT HAPPENED TO R'S PARENTS! They went for an expedition and never returned after that, and after that R was left with her uncle and aunt in that horror of a house😭😭 that must've been tough.

"for they only wanted to eat yet they ended up getting eaten themselves." KATY IS THIS FORESHADOWING?🤨🤨 Also ngl this sentence right here almost made me sob.

The fact that R keeps remembering that Hobie will wake up hits me like a goddamn truck, it's like the only thing that keeps R from going insane and just continue to be by his side without losing hope because if the roles were reversed, he would do the same. R continues to talk to him and saying things that have always been in the back of her mind like he could hear all of it. (SORRY I LOVE YAPPING 😔😔)

THE DREAM/NIGHTMARE SCENE WAS SO COOL LIKE HELLO?? KATY YOU'RE FEEDING US GOOD WITH THIS CHAPTER I'M LOVING IT

OKAY WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING? WHY ARE THEY TRYING TO SEDATE R?

Thomas and the others are starting to get a bit suspicious tbh, they're acting a bit too calmly for my liking. I feel like they're trying to do something to R and Hobie, maybe bring them to the lawmen for the bounties on their heads?🤨🤨

I KNEW IT I FUCKING CALLED IT THEY WERE ALL BASTARDS R AND HOBIE NEED TO GET OUT OF THAT PLACE AND BURN IT TO THE GROUND GOD ADSJKDSADSDHBS

Hobie woke up, saw that R was't anywhere near him and immediately went in "I gotta save my wife" mode LMAOO

WAIT WHO TF IS CULVER? I'M TRYING TO REMEMBER BUT MY MIND IS JUST BLANK I DON'T REMEMBER THAT MAN AT ALL😭😭😭

THEY DID BURN THE MARSH TO THE GROUND HELPP WHY IS MY BRAIN SPOILERING THE CHAPTER BEFORE I EVEN READ THE PARAGRAHPS😭😭

Forget matching clothes or anything else R and Hobie have matching mentall illnesses and scars🥰 couple goals fr /j

Okay so Hicks wasn't R's uncle until after six months that he did that horrible shit to Hobie just because he had "competition" and was basically just jealous and R's aunt was like "Let's marry this man and make this house hell on earth for my niece so I can get more money, fuck them kids🥰🥰" LIKE WTF??

"you'd break yourself, break every muscle and bone in your body, tore it limb from limb so you'd be broken together. That you'll fit right in where his jagged edges lie just like before." KATY DAKSDAKDNKA I'M SOBBING😭😭 THEY LOVE EACHOTHER SO MUCH I'M SO GLAD THEY'RE TALKING AND EVERYTHING'S ALRIGHT FOR NOW

Also the fact that they love eachother so much that they aren't afraid to show their vulnerabilities to the other, that R would tear apart every single muscle and bone just to understand how Hobie feels and learn to love him even more than before has me crying and sobbing into my pillow. R doesn't see his imperfections and actually thinks he's still the boy who used to wait her under the oak tree, maybe he's just tougher and a little more scared now for all the things he went throught.

"You are love incarnate" UIFSJAKASK KATY YOU GOTTA PAY FOR MY THERAPIST ONCE OPIN IS OVER BECAUSE THIS SHIT IS MAKING ME CRY GAHH MAKE THEM BE HAPPY FOR ONCE IN THEIR LIVES

Also the kiss at the end?? MADE ME GIGGLE AND KICK MY FEET BUT CRY AT THE SAME TIME LIKE HELLO?😭😭 Also the fact that he just kept loving R even after all those years they spent apart, even after he told himself that he was just a hull of who he was before, but R saw right throught him the moment they met again and Hobie fell in love all over again.

Katy I swear I'm gonna need to file a restraining order against you to keep R and Hobie away from you BECAUSE YOU NEED TO LET THEM BE HAPPY FOR ONCE ABJSDAKD THEY DESERVE ALL THE FUCKING LOVE IN THE WORLD LET THEM GO BACK TO THEIR OAK TREE AND MAKE THAT THEIR HOUSE AGAIN

me rn as I type this:

This was so bittersweet but I LOVED IT SO MUCH, thank you Katy for another amazing chapter❤️❤️ly!!!

Rotten Floorboards

Pairing: Cowboy! Hobie Brown x Fem! Reader

Word count: 11.5k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Cowboy AU, Wild west AU, CW hallucinations, TW poisoned without your knowledge, CW violence, religious talk, CW guns, TW abuse mention, CW food mention, CW panic attack, CW injury, TW death, TW blood and gore.

Our Place In the Middle of Nowhere Masterlist

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CHAPTER 7 >>> CHAPTER 8

Skinned knees, scarred hands, and venomous words, you've endured it all back home. Survived it all— his tight, firm grip on your hand that only loosened around guests, finger always running along the gold band on your finger, a reminder of your hatred, a different reminder for him. Then your aunt's yelling in your ears until you could only hear her thunderous words at night even when you're alone. Her pen that does more than sign documents, the sharp end pointed directly on your palm, stabbing and cutting along your life line as if it could end your life right then and there— sometimes you wish it could. Then him, your uncle who had his hand in cutting your ties with the man you love, whose echoing footsteps walk outside your door at night, never giving you reprieve from the pain of being awake in that mausoleum of a home. All that pain, all that abuse you've suffered from your so-called kin doesn't compare to seeing Hobie's limp body under the monstrous weight of steel and ash.

Your heart has stayed inside your stomach since then, his green eyes closed, breathing shallow than the well that your uncle threatened to push you inside— you won't drown in it, you'll just crack your neck and your spine while you lay in tepid dirty water. You feel like that now, hopeless, blank eyes staring at the sky, seeing the world pass by from inside the well.

You've never left his side, feeling as if you'd regret it if you did even for a moment. You've regretted a lot of things, letting your parents go on that doomed expedition, and letting your aunt dictate the rest of your life. Never again. So you don't leave, you don't drink, you don't eat while the stranger who helped carry Hobie into the shabby inn treats him.

Your own wounds ache, festering under the heat of the southern sun. The humidity is clinging to your skin, making it all worse, making the pathetic bandage around your ear throb from the pain, tethering from infection. The walls of the small room they've put you in is suffocating, walls that feel like it's closing you in, dark hardwood that sweats from the sheer heat, and floorboards that creak and squeak from your footsteps. But you'd rather stay upstairs than what's below you. It smells there, especially when the day runs hotter than the surface of a boiling pot. It's probably because the whole building is old and moldy. Or there's something dead hiding underneath the rotten bloated wood.

The alligators outside your window hiss and groan, birds you've never seen before get eaten the moment they step foot inside the marsh. It's not fair, you think, for they only wanted to eat yet they ended up getting eaten themselves.

The night gives your nerves a break, the cooler air breezing through your injuries, taking the pain away for only a moment. Fireflies gather outside the willow tree that you've been staring at since you've arrived. Hobie sleeps under it all, from all the noise and the heat. You've held his hand the entire time, even with the bandages around your palms you could still feel him, feel his pulse, feel how he still breathes. Your eyes are dry and red, tears gone from how much you've cried on his bedside, and pleaded to the man to save him whatever it takes. The rickety armchair that has one leg missing has been your home, the room is your land, and Hobie has been your reason to stay.

You held his hand in yours, watching as his eyelids moved about, a sign that he still lives and thinks despite the trauma to the head he endured when the train crashed. The bandage around his head has turned red from his wound. He protected you, did everything to shield you from death. You'd cry if you still had any tears left to give.

Dawn has arrived, and you hear a knock at the door. It's quiet, almost silent as if the sound would disturb Hobie's slumber.

“Come in,” your voice is still hoarse from the noose that wrapped around your neck. It's small, barely there, barely having the resemblance of your former self.

With a creak, the door opens, and a familiar face pops out. “Just checkin’ on ya.” His southern drawl is thick, shaven face illuminated by the lamp he holds. “I need to change his bandages. And yours if you'd permit me.” Entering the room, he shakes his leather bound bag with the initials ‘T.M.’ embossed on it. The metal and glass inside clinks against each other.

You watch him carry himself with confidence, but with apprehension from his gait. “Do him first.” Moving the chair aside, you still don't fully leave Hobie.

“Alright,” his friendly eyes look at you with uncertainty. Kneeling down next to the bed, he examines Hobie's head, gently unspooling the cloth. That's the only time you look away, refusing to see him that way or it might wiggle its way into your dreams. “I’ve realized that I haven't asked for your name, miss.” You hear his bag unzipping while you stare at the outside world blanketed in deep blue. “Not your fault though, Holden brought you in haste.”

“Holden?” You ask, eyes scanning along the marsh.

“That's the big brooding man that carried him in. My name's Thomas, by the way, what's yours?” The smell of putrid ointment hits your nose, you refuse to cover the smell.

You give him a fake name, a name that isn't known to many, a name that isn't plastered in every bounty board across the country. “It's Clementine.”

“What a pretty name, I'd shake your hand but 'm occupied right now.” He chuckles, and you hold your breath while he continues to treat Hobie. After minutes of silence, you hear the rustle of fabric as he closes the bandages around his head.

You turn to look, the sight of Hobie just laying there is sobering. You've always known him as a strong person, always burying his heels in, independent in all the ways, and speaking his mind when he needs to be. The opposite of you, but right now, you have to be the one that's strong enough for him, to fight, care, and protect him if need be while he recovers. You don't know if you can do it, but it comes easily to you because it's Hobie, you've already done so a lifetime ago. You inhale deeply, finally meeting Thomas’ brown eyes.

“Thank you, for helping, you don't know us but you still helped. I promise I'm going to pay you back for the room and…” you look at the room that still bares Hobie's blood all over the floor, and his things thrown in the corner. “And everything else.”

“No, need.” Thomas smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. Crow's feet evident in his smile. “Just seein’ him get better slowly is enough for me.” You give him a weak but genuine smile. “Your turn, miss?”

“I'm fine.”

“I've been a doctor for twenty years, and you're clearly not fine. Especially that ear of yours. I've seen better ears from pigs in line for the slaughter.”

You glance at Hobie's sleeping face, finally relenting. “Okay.”

“I'll try to be quick, I promise.” You scooch your chair closer, immediately holding Hobie's hand like his skin is magnetized. “I don't want to ask but, this injury doesn't look like it came from the train derailing.” He starts to peel off the shoddy bandage that you hastily put on, your skin feels like on fire. You don't mind it anymore, you've felt worse.

You sniff, eyes glued onto the gold ring dangling from Hobie's neck. “A piece of metal from the train nicked it.”

“And your hands?” He nods at your burned palms hidden under cloth.

“Heat from the metal when I tossed it off him.” A half lie.

“Ah,” Thomas cleans your wound with the same putrid ointment. He tugs at your raw skin, you bite your tongue on instinct. “Maybe I shouldn't ask about your neck then.” The angry mark left by the lasso still stays, you know it'll stay there forever. If not, then in your mind.

You look back at the stranger, eyes pointed and daring. “Don't ask.”

There's new cloth around your ear, muffling the sounds made by the house. “Then I won't.” He seizes his movements, eyeing your hand around Hobie's. “May I treat your hands?”

“It's fine, mister Thomas.”

“It's doctor, actually,” there's amusement in his eyes. “I’ve got a license and everythin’. You should see it, it's very professional lookin’.”

You crack a smile, “sorry, doctor.” With slight apprehension, you slide your hands away from Hobie's before laying your palms on your lap. “Do you own this place?”

“I do, sort of.” He unwraps your hands, revealing the angry skin underneath. Sucking in his teeth, you already know it's healing badly. But he still tries, for that you owe him everything.

“Sort of?”

“It's my sisters’ you see, they went on this business trip to get more funds for the place so they asked me to look after it for a few weeks.”

“I'm guessing that you had to leave your practice.” You flick your eyes over to Hobie's rising and falling chest to check on him. Satisfied, you look back at the doctor handling you with care. “That must've been horrible.”

“Havin’ sisters?” He jokes.

“No, leaving it all behind.”

His smile falters. “Don't cry crocodile tears for me, miss, I'll be back there treating the sick in no time.” His head tilts curiously at the old scar on your palm, ghosting his thumb over it. “What happened to this one?”

You want to say that it was because of her, that she did it. But this is one of the rare times that it wasn't her fault. Yet, when it was, she's good at hiding the evidence. Your aunt wasn't an idiot, she knew how to turn a girl into her personal workhorse that you whip and punch to obey without leaving any marks, without showing the world and causing them any concern for your well-being. So you tell the halfhearted truth.

“It was a long time ago, there's no cause for concern on that one.” It healed, a remembrance, telling you that everything will heal if you give it time— that Hobie will heal. You meet his eyes, finding it hard to read the old man. “How about Holden and the others I saw? I didn't get a good look at them when I entered but I saw a few guests. Are they guests?” You question him because that's what Hobie would do.

“Holden lives nearby who just happens upon the train wreck. He has a small stable in town, in Saint Denis. If you want he can take in your horses? They're mighty fine, I don't want them getting soiled by the marsh.”

“That…” you think for a second. If the horses are gone then you'd lose your only way out. Hobie would say no. “No, thank you, I'll take care of them.”

“You sure? Fine by me, there's hay inside the stable for ‘em.”

“The others? You were talking about them.” You continue to push the subject.

“Ah yes, sorry ‘bout that, old mind and all. Well, there's Eli, he's been stayin’ with us for quite a while. A priest on a mission we call him.” You listen intently, taking note of every single detail. “Then there's Lucy, she's a regular ‘ere, always comin' and goin'. Accordin’ to my sisters.”

You nod as he finishes your hands that's now tightly wrapped with bandages. Thomas begins to stand up, gathering his things. “Will he be okay?” Will he wake up?

He sighs, there's something behind his eyes that you can't quite pinpoint. “It’s hard to tell.” Your heart hammers inside your ribcage. “But he has so far survived the night, I think he'll pull through.”

“Thank you, again. I'll repay you, I promise.” You reach for Hobie's hand, letting your warmth seep through his clammy hands.

Thomas' eyes flick between your hand and eyes. “Don't mention it. I'll bring a basin with drinking water for him. Drip water onto his lips every few hours so he won't dehydrate.”

You nod in understanding. “I will, thank you ”

“Then some food and water for you.” He smiles, opening the door and looking over his shoulder to glance at you.

“No need—”

“How would you care for him when you don't take care of yourself? You need the energy. What would he say?”

You chuckle, squeezing his hand tighter. “He’d call me a wanker for not eating.”

Thomas knits his brows, turning back towards you. “A what?”

“Nothing, it's something profane.”

He chortles, wiping his hand across his nose like he smelled something foul. And you smell it too— the sourness, the moment he opened the door. Maybe a rat died under the staircase. “I won't ask then. Get some rest, miss Clementine.”

The door clicks and you're once again alone with him. It hits you again, how dire your situation is. There's a rock in the back of your mind that keeps rolling about, reminding you how close Hobie was from dying in your arms. But there's another boulder in the pit of your stomach, it tells you of a fate that could befall you now that you're here, close to the person looking for you. You'd rather jump towards the alligators than be back in their hold.

Hobie will wake up, you know he will. For now, you'd stay by his side, play the good nurse and protect him as much as you can because he would do it if the roles were reversed. You hold his ring in between your fingers, letting the cold metal melt into your warm skin.

—

You whisper to him, words that you're afraid of letting go, words that you wish would wake him up. You wonder what he dreams of, is it home? Is it something good? Or is he dreaming of you? You'll ask him when he wakes up, he'll wake up, you know he will.

There's another knock at the door a few hours later. Thomas enters with a tray that smells of something savoury, you've forgotten how hungry you are. But how could you indulge when Hobie lays there like a statue?

“I have some duck for ya, and a loaf. It's not much but it'll fill you up.” He senses your trepidation. “Please eat, you'll get weaker if you don't. ‘sides, no one will take care of him if you fall ill.” The utensils rattles as he places the tray in your hands.

You stare at the food with a blank stare. Guilt eats you alive, grief devouring what's left of you. “C-can you…” you clear your dry throat, “can you check on him? See if his breathing is alright?”

Thomas nods curtly after a moment, placing his fingers above his pulse, timing it on a watch that dangles from his waist coat. You don't touch the warm food until he's done. “His breathin’s fine, he's a fighter.”

You finally feel like you can exhale again. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” standing up, Thomas points at the bowl filled with water where a cloth floats atop it. “That's for him, from what we talked about.”

“I remember.” You're already squeezing the cloth, releasing excess water before you place the tray on his bedside to slowly let the water drip on Hobie's dry lips. With every drop, you pray to whoever is listening to will him awake.

“I'll leave you to it,” the door closes, and you're once again left in your dark thoughts where your fears have come true.

In between eating and playing nurse, your eyes start to get heavy with every bite of the succulent meat. You couldn't help but finish it to the bone, letting it fill your belly, leaving half of the loaf for Hobie when he wakes up. After chugging a whole pitcher of water and emptying Hobie's bowl by slowly but surely letting him drink, you place the tray down on the ground to lay down next to him carefully. There's a headache forming in-between your eyes, maybe you're incredibly fatigued than you thought you were. You're mindful of his injuries but not your own as you lay on your injured ear. It's self flagellation, as if everything that has happened was your fault the moment you stepped foot in the new world. As your eyes get uncomfortably heavy, mind foggy, you fall asleep curled up on his side.

You open your eyes and you're back home. The gilded walls of your room open up to you like a theater curtain. Your chest heaves, eyes filled with tears that you refuse to let go. Chiffon and velvet dress hugging you tightly, too tight, suffocating you slowly like a hand on your throat. Hand upon your chest, you rip it all off as if the garment burns you. But it isn't enough to get rid of it all, so you walk over to your table in haste, grabbing a sharp letter opener to slash and tear at the threads putting it all together. One by one, the once pretty gown is torn to shreds at your feet, from bodice to skirt, it all lays on the ground like discarded meat. In a flash, your eyes see red and bloodied muscle still writhing on the floor instead of fabric. As soon as it appears, it's gone after a beat.

You stand there in your slip, but the heaviness in your chest persists, hands and legs going numb— a testament to your shallow breathing. Your hands glide along your body to find anything tight around you, gasping and still in a panic, your hands stop around your neck that holds a string of diamonds. Without a second thought, you snatch the shiny thing away from your clammy skin, breaking the chain in the process.

Air enters your lungs the moment it's gone. Palms above your chest, you inhale and exhale whilst hot tears flow out of your eyes in a shower of sorrow. Leaning over the table for balance, your eyes meet with a familiar handwriting addressed to you. You're brought back in time the second your hand touches it, brought back to five years ago when Hobie slipped you a note during a party. You read it again, telling you that everything was ready, that he's ready to run away with you, somewhere far away and that you should pack your things.

After you read it, the letter dissolves into dark ink that drips down to your feet. You're holding the new letter again, opening the plain wax seal, you read the contents. Then you read it over and over until you get your mind wrapped around the saccharine yet sorrowful words that are all written in his hand. Hobie, the one you've been mourning since the news hit you.

His address is written hastily next to his own name, you laugh and then sob, hugging the letter to your chest. The scene shifts as if you've entered the fog and into a new world. You're in front of the docks, a large ship looming over you. You're dressed in a pair of borrowed trousers from Peter's wife, whilst the older man himself speaks by your side but you can't make out his words. It's all a garbled mess. For some reason, his hands are dripping with blood, but you don't point it out.

You tell him something, and he shakes his head with a smile, eyepatch moving as he gently nudges you towards the ship. The night hides his face, and all the secrets haunting you, even with the full moon shining down. As you wave goodbye, the ship unfurls its sails, sailors reeling the anchor up, and the captain steering the ship towards your future. You watch as Peter's silhouette gets farther until he's a mere dot in your sight.

You raise your head up to watch the swirling sky, falling stars raining down, and the moon smiling back at you. Someone whispers your name, and you instinctively turn around, expecting a fate worse than death thinking that they've found you. But you're greeted by Hobie himself, still in the same clothes you last saw him in, hair short, and face flat.

“Hobie?” You sound like you're underneath the waves.

“Run.”

You're awoken by the squeak from the rotten hinges. Sitting up, your eyes adjust to the light, seeing a silhouette of a tall, bony man in black and white. Vision focusing, you see him awkwardly stop in front of the doorway, the white square on his collar tells you that this is the reverend Thomas was talking about. He has a patch work of a beard and an aura of weariness.

“Eli,” your mouth speaks before you could think.

“That's me,” he chuckles, clearing his throat right after. His hands are behind his back, prompting you to be more wary of the man.

“What are you doing here?” You sit properly, hand placed on your gun belt, feeling the cold metal of Hobie's gun on your palm.

“I–I was…” his blue eyes flick from your gun to Hobie's sleeping face. “Thinking of p-praying for him.”

“He’s not dead yet, reverend.” Your harsh voice cuts through the man.

“I don't mean any offense.” He holds his empty hands up, you glance at his rough hands and the tattoo on his wrist revealed from how his sleeve rode down. It's something you can't quite get a good look at. Noticing your stare, Eli brings his hands down, pulling down his sleeves. “Praying for his swift recovery. That's what I meant.”

“You can pray for him outside our door. Better yet, pray downstairs.” You stare him down. “Where's your book of prayers?”

“I'm sorry, I should've knocked.” You can't place his accent. “I thought you were asleep—”

“And that makes it alright to barge in?”

He balances on the balls of his feet, your eyes instinctively flick over to his leather shoes that are too shiny, too kept as if he just bought it or cleaned it for the occasion. “We got off on the wrong foot, I'm sorry, miss…Clementine. My name's Eli.” Reaching for you, you only look at his hand without shaking it.

“I didn't give you my name.”

The reverend takes his hand back with a wince. “I–I got it from Thomas.” Your jaw tightens, eyes boring holes into his forehead. Thankfully, he reads the room and your expression. “I should go—”

“You should. Goodbye.”

The reverend doesn't turn his back on you, opening the door with what you could read as a cursory apologetic look. “I'm sorry, again.”

You grunt in reply. With the door clicking close, you stand up, taking a spare chair that Thomas always sits down on to lodge it under the doorknob. Locking the door and battening down the hatches. It's what Hobie would do, it's what he always does when he thinks you've fallen asleep.

“Wanker.” You scoff out before sitting back down next to Hobie. You don't find sleep after that. Your mind is too noisy, too chaotic to find sleep even though your body demands it.

—

Two days in and Hobie is still unresponsive, he breathes, even twitches in his sleep but he's unable to wake up. It's pure torture for you, seeing him lay there while you try your best at taking care of him. You've even tasked yourself at watching the good doctor clean his wounds and replace the bandages so you could do it yourself. You miss his smile, his laugh, and how he holds your hand. It’s just like how you've felt for those five long years, but this time you can see him, touch him, and take care of him but he doesn't speak nor look back at you. You don't know which one is worse.

Thomas says he's getting better, but you still worry. You play his nurse and a grieving widow at the same time. Everytime Hobie's breath hitches or even when his finger twitches you sit up, frantically calling the doctor to check on him. He always says the same thing, ‘he’s just dreaming,’ it doesn't fill you at ease, especially if it's anywhere near the dreams you've been having.

Three meals are brought to you every day, and each meal has brought you to sleep. You blame the trauma you've experienced, the things you've seen, the things you've done— it brings you towards the precipice of life and death each time, and without fail, you dream of him. Hobie still sleeps on the lumpy bed, body lay still, breathing sturdy and true. You don't mind the sleep, but the dreams you've had aren't always good, so you'd rather keep your eyes open than face the horrors that sleep brings.

Sometimes your mind wanders off, vision whirling to something else, something worse than him laying unresponsive to the world outside. In the corner of the dark room, you see a bloodied fountain pen with soiled grain littered around it. You turn around to look away, and you see something worse, his pristine white suit is a glaring contrast to the almost dilapidated state of the room, acting like a beacon of pain for you. He doesn't smile, nor come closer to you, he just stands there, back straight like he owns the place, light green eyes aglow like the fireflies outside but none of the comfort.

The blood in your veins runs cold at the sight, so you turn away from him as he stands guard with his judging eyes. Your eyes land towards Hobie to calm you down and bring yourself back to reality. He still sleeps, bandages wrapped around his head, eyelids twitching while he dreams. With a sigh, you suddenly see a pair of eyes under his bed, you're frozen at the sight of a large hand appearing from underneath, nails dark and rotten, wounds littered around the arm, decaying and sour smelling. You see it give you a crooked smile. Heart thrumming, the hand grabs Hobie's wrist, blackened blood oozing from its touch. With horror in your belly but bravery in your heart, you yank the hand away, finding it bursting into a cloud of smoke the moment you touched it.

“You alright?” Thomas asks, he watches you catch your breath from the doorway.

Your hand is closed around nothing, still held up in front of you, gasping at nothingness. You inhale, clearing your throat and bringing down your trembling hand to your lap. “Y-yeah, I think I'm just too hot.”

Thomas nods, eyes roaming around the room. “You've been cooped up in this room for two days. I think some fresh air would do you some good.”

You immediately shake your head. “I can't leave him. Besides, there's a window here, I get enough air as it is.”

“Pardon my bluntness but, you need to stretch around, get a different scenery or you'll go mad seeing the same walls.” Thomas crosses the gap, tentatively placing his hand on your shoulder. His palm hovers slightly above your blouse, not truly holding you. “I can watch him for you, the worst has come to pass already. I know he'll wake up eventually.”

You glance at Hobie's face, he does look better than before. There's color on his lips again, his breathing stable, skin no longer clammy and his wounds are starting to scab over. And the horses need your attention too, you have no idea how they're faring since they got here. You ponder leaving him for a moment.

“...okay, j-just for a few minutes.” But you still don't trust Thomas enough to leave Hobie alone with him. “You don't have to watch him.”

“Alright, I understand where you're comin' from. Hell, I'll give you the key to the room if it makes you feel any better.” Thomas takes out a ring of keys from his pocket, and then he takes out an old key from the metal ring to hand to you. “Just bring it back after.”

“Alright, thank you, that actually fills me with ease.” You close your fingers around the key, letting the metal press down into your burned palms.

“I'll be downstairs. I promise if I hear anythin’, even a squeak I'll come runnin’ out to get you.” Thomas smiles, back already turned to leave.

Your voice calls him back. “Doctor, you've seen death, do you think there's an afterlife?” You suddenly ask him, Thomas stops in his tracks, chuckling softly.

“I don't know, love.” You raise a brow, head turning immediately to face him. “I think it's best if you ask the reverend that. I'm sure he can provide you with an answer.”

“But you've seen people die, right? From your patients, to just…living. I want your opinion on the matter.” You push the subject, eyes heavy and tired. You can feel every bone in your body as your vision shifts, seeing iridescent light pass through the windows and shine in Thomas' face. When your eyes focus, the light is gone.

Thomas scratches his head. “From what I experienced?” You nod, “I don't think so. I think there's just darkness right after.” He sniffs, hands placed in his pockets. “I really think you should talk to the reverend, he might provide a more comforting answer.”

“Maybe I should.” Your voice drifts off, eyes blankly staring outside.

“You sure you're alright?”

“I don't know.” You don't see how red your eyes have become, or the bags weighing it down.

Thomas leaves without another word. You don't leave the room after that, and the key stays with you to hold onto, letting the metal dig into your palms.

—

Startling awake, you sit up from the whispers that have managed to slither its way inside your ears. You look over your side, seeing Hobie asleep and safe, you begin to sit up, head pounding roughly against your skull as if you've been hit by something in your sleep.

More whispers echo out into the darkness, your eyes wander around the room, finding no one so you listen closely. You glance at the floor, ears straining to hear, you realize the voices are coming out from beneath.

Slowly clambering away from the bed, hand reluctantly releasing Hobie's hand, you make your way onto the floor, laying yourself down on the cool wood. Pressing your ears, you listen in on the murmured conversation.

“She barely sleeps!” A woman's voice exclaims, it's followed by shushing. “It doesn't even work on her. I'm at my fuckin’ limit.”

“We need to be patient—” Someone says.

You press your face down closer to hear better. “We've been patient. We need to—” the floorboards creak from your movement. And they immediately quiet down.

You lay there perfectly still, but no sound from downstairs can be heard. Standing up, you check the doors if you've locked it properly this time, and you pat the gun on your hip to feel if it's still there. The unfounded trust that you've given to the strangers downstairs are wavering by the minute. But you can't leave, not until Hobie wakes up, or you might disturb his healing.

—

You gasp awake, trembling in your seat, the wounds on your palms have reopened from how your nails have dug into your broken palms. It's another nightmare, another nightmare that has kept you awake. Hobie still sleeps, and you're still trapped inside the small dusty room.

The heels of your palms rub roughly on your eyelids, washing away the nightmare and sleep. Laying your head on the back of the chair, you stair at the ceiling and the cracking paint. There's a dark red spot near the middle, it's barely noticeable but it's there. The longer you stare at it, the bigger it gets. You fight a sob as you abruptly stand up, maybe you should take Thomas on his offer by going outside. It doesn't hurt to leave for a few minutes, right? Surely no one is awake at the break of dawn, so Hobie is safe to be left for a moment. And he's comfortable with the window opened, letting the cool early morning breeze inside.

You sit down on his bedside, hands gently cupping his own. “I'll be back, alright? I just need to check on Buck and Cherry.” He doesn't answer. “Maybe they can tell me how they managed to find us. Or maybe what you told me before was actually right, that they can smell us. Like loyal hounds we had back at the manor.” Your words drift away as your eyes lose focus, staring at the raised scar on his neck. You sniff, bringing yourself back to reality. “Please wake up, I feel like— just please wake up. Yell my name when you do and I'll come running back.” You kiss his knuckles, eyes glancing at the pair of white trousers standing in the corner. “I'll be back.”

You stand up, ignoring all the ghostly eyes staring at your back. They're not real, you whisper to yourself. Opening the door and locking it behind you before you could change your mind. The key is safely tucked away in your breast pocket. A headache rushes by, you almost fall on your knees from the pain.

As you stand shakily in the hallway, the floors seem to shift and change. It stretches before you while you walk, as if it won't allow you to escape the place. You close your eyes tightly, grounding yourself by holding onto the wall. When you open your eyes, you see your aunt standing at the end of the long hallway. She's clad in black, a long coat hiding her entire body, from her neck to the tips of her feet. Her hair is stark white against the dark material, strands that are longer than you last saw her. You can barely see her face, but it's odd, like something's amiss.

“Where are your eyes, dear aunt?” You ask in a small voice, as if you've returned to the young age you first met her.

She opens her maw, a deep dark crevice of sharp teeth all lined up in rows. You hear your name escape from her unhinged jaw, it's whispered close in your ears. “You can't leave.”

“I just did.” You say without remorse, and without guilt. “Watch me leave again.” With measured steps you walk closer to the vision, as you get closer and closer, her body turns transparent until you've walked through her. And everything returns to normal. You've reached the banisters overlooking downstairs, hand clasped tightly around the wood. Shaking, but victorious. “Not real.”

You look over the railing, eyes roaming around the small space. There's a small common room where a fireplace that doubles as the kitchen lies. A large man sleeps on the single couch facing the fireplace, snoring softly, arms crossed over his chest. A humble bar is placed across it, where amber liquid in foggy glass sits on the shelves. Leaning closer, you spot a door on the floor that could lead to a basement of some sort. The surfaces have been wiped clean except for the tops of the shelves that are caked in dust. There's minimal decorations, save for a few pictures hanging on the walls. Then it hits you, the smell of the place. From sour milk to rotten eggs, you can barely decipher what it is, only decay.

You can see the place being homely after a renovation if not for the stench.

The wooden bannister creaks when you put your weight on it, you flinch away before it gives out from under you. You walk slowly down the small steps of the stairway, legs shaking from the thrumming headache behind your eyes, feet swaying like you're drunk off of moonshine. You attribute it from the vision you saw and from how fatigued you are. But your shoes barely clack against the floor from your footsteps. Your eyes skim over the photographs on the walls, yellowed paper and old frames of family. You look for Thomas in any of the pictures, but he's absent in every single one.

You finally make it down without waking anyone. The man, Holden, you surmise based on the description Thomas gave you, still snores on the couch. Crossing the threshold, you unlock the front door to go outside.

The entire marsh is bathed in blue, sun barely peeking in the horizon. A breeze passes by, goosebumps rising on your arms from the cold. You should've brought your coat with you, but it's too late now. If you go back upstairs, you think you cannot go back down.

You already feel like you're coming back to your old self. Eyes still weighing heavy in its sockets but at least the air and the greenery have grounded you back to reality. You have no idea what has befallen you, why you've been having visions of your family. Maybe it's the sleep deprivation, or maybe the living has decided to haunt you for all the things you've done to survive.

Walking along the wooden paths that prop you up from the mud, you follow it further down towards the small stable. The birds are beginning to wake up, chirping just above the canopies of tall willow trees. With every footstep, your feet sink slightly into the mud, soil swallowing down the planks of wood laid down as a makeshift path. Flies buzz around your legs, you swat away any that comes near your healing wounds.

You finally make it towards the stable, opening the door with slight force since the hinges are long rotten from the wear and tear of the moist environment. You finally crack it open, seeing seven horses in their little pens on the side. The wood inside is in the same state as the inn, bloated and decaying from age. Light filters through the cracks, dust and bloatflies flying all over the horses.

Bucky peeks his head when he hears you enter, he immediately recognizes you, hind legs stomping in excitement. You smile genuinely at the dark horse, walking towards his stable, still swaying slightly on your feet. Cherry appears from behind Bucky, coat muddy and hair tangled. You guess that they had to share a pen because of the lack of space in the stable.

“Hi, you two.” You reach up towards their faces, Bucky nuzzles your hand while Cherry huffs against your palm. “I'm sorry, I should've visited you earlier. But Hobie needed my attention.” With the mention of his rider, Buckeye neighs, leaning away, almost standing up on two legs. You think that he worries for him. “It's alright, calm down, boy. He's getting better.”

Bucky shakes his head, so you scratch the back of his ear where he always seems to like. You coo at him, whispering kind words towards the horse for finding you and Hobie amidst the wreckage with Cherry in tow. You enter their pen, brushing your hands along his fur and hair. Hobie's canteen peeks from his saddlebag on Bucky, so you take it, taking big gulps before placing it back inside the pack. You feel a lot better already.

Cherry watches you and Bucky interact. When she's had enough of Bucky getting all of your attention, she nudges your shoulder, nodding and huffing like a petulant child. “Alright, alright, I didn't forget about you.” Chuckling, you rub along her snout, you find that she likes to be pet there the most. “Have you been good? I'd give you both an apple or sugarcube but I don't have any on me.” You spot the bundle of hay near the entrance. “Is hay good enough? When we get out of here I'll give you both all the sugar cubes and fruit you could ever want.”

Leaving their side after numerous pets, you grab a pitchfork laying on the corner to grab some hay to place in their pen. Once both horses are properly fed and petted, you look around the stable for a horse brush, but the only thing you could find were more horses looking at you with curious eyes. You're more confused though, you see five horses in each pen, but there are only four guests inside the inn that you know of. There's Thomas, Eli, and Holden that you've already met. Then there's the mysterious Lucy. Whose horse is it that is alone in the corner? Maybe it's a spare? Nevertheless, you feed all of them.

“I'll be back,” you fold your knees to grab a bucket on the floor. “Let me just get some water for—”

“You're speaking to horses.”

“Jesus!” You clutch your chest from the sudden intrusion.

“Just me, sorry.” A woman stands in the doorway, hands on her shiny belt buckle, red corset tight on her torso, revealing freckles dusted on her shoulders and clavicle. She smiles, showing a gold tooth in the bottom row of her teeth. The sun has now fully risen outside, bathing her back in light, shadows hiding her face from you. “I'm Lucy, you must be Clementine.”

You clear your throat before you almost made the mistake of correcting her. “Y-yeah. Nice to meet you.”

“Why are you doing manual labor? Aren't you injured?”

“I am, but I'm feeling a lot better now thanks to the doctor.”

“Thomas?”

“Yeah, is there another doctor here?”

She chuckles, stepping forward out of the shadows. You see her chiseled face, lips full and pretty, more freckles lined around her eyes and cheeks. Her blond hair is tied in a neat braid, cowboy hat perfectly fitted around her head. There's a hunting rifle strapped on her back, and a large ornate knife on her waist.

“I'll take care of the water. Breakfast is being served inside if you're hungry.” She says with a lilt in her tone. “There's sausage, the good kind. I think you'll like it.”

“You've got their water?” You ask, glancing at your horses.

“Yeah, I've got them.” She crosses the small distance towards you, you don't drop your guard even when her hand grabs the bucket away from you. “I've been the one looking after them.”

“Oh, thank you then. I hope they're not too much of a bother.”

“Not really. Especially your Arabian there, she's real pretty.” Lucy eyes Cherry like a piece of meat on the chopping block. “How much for her?”

“Excuse me?” You scoff. “She's not for sale.”

“Alright, understandable. How about the thoroughbred?”

“No,” you stand stiff, jaw clenched. “They're not for sale.”

She grins slowly, brown eyes flat and staring at your soul. Shrugging, she begins to walk outside. “Eh, it's worth the try. Your loss, I would've bought them at a mark up.” Her voice fades away as she leaves.

You stand there with your fists shaking, you're perturbed by the people residing in the inn. You think Thomas and Holden are the only decent ones inside.

Cherry neighs behind you, you look over your shoulder to meet with her eyes. “The nerve of some people, huh?” Buckeye agrees by trotting in place.

Walking back towards the inn already has you sweating from the humidity. Once you open the door, all eyes are on you. Thomas stands behind the bar, preparing a plate. While Holden eats on one of the empty bar stools with a cup of steaming coffee paused on his lips as he stares at you. The reverend was just about leaving the basement when you entered, hand frozen on the handle of the basement door.

The doctor breaks the awkward silence. “Good morning. Did ya have a nice walk outside?”

You flex your hands on your sides, biting the inside of your cheek. “It was…pleasant.”

Eli casually stands up and then sits on the sofa near the fire and the cooking pot. He opens a large book, reading like he didn't just leave the basement as if he owned the place.

“Come have breakfast with us.” Thomas beckons you over, sliding the plate he was just preparing over to you. “I was just about to go upstairs and give this to ya.”

“Thank you, I'll eat it in my room. I don't want to disturb you all.” You come closer to the bar, fingers placed around the porcelain plate. You feel eyes on you, Holden continues to eat in the corner of your eyes. Eli is mouthing scriptures at his seat.

“No, no, come stay!” Thomas hands you a cup of coffee. The smell brings you back home. It's not a good memory. “It'll do you some good to have company, even for a moment. Please stay.”

You nod, clammy palms rubbing along your trousers. “...sure, just for breakfast though.” Rubbing your nose, Thomas notices.

“Sorry ‘bout the smell. We think there's a rat that died in the basement but we can't seem to find it.” He picks at his own plate while leaning on the other side of the bar. “That's why the reverend was down there. It was his turn to look.”

You nod, glancing briefly at the trap door on the floor. “Can I have a glass of water instead? I don't like coffee.”

His fork clangs on the plate as he lets go. “Oh of course!” Turning around he takes a pitcher of water and then he pours you a glass. While he does that, you look at the pictures behind the bar.

“Which one are your sisters?” You gesture towards the frames, Thomas still has his back towards you as he continues to pour you a glass.

“Oh, the picture that's in the middle.” You follow where he pointed at. A photograph of two smiling women in front of the inn when it was still new and shiny hangs in the middle of the bar. Their faces are flat and serious but the way their arms are around each other says that they're particularly happy in the picture. If not for the long exposure needed to take the scene, they would be grinning widely.

You tilt your head at the picture, eyes scanning their features and comparing it to Thomas' face. “You don't look like them.”

He twists around, handing you your glass of water. “I've been told.” Chuckling, he looks back at the picture briefly before turning towards you. “They got my mother's features and I got my father's. Which parent do you look like the most?” His eyes watch the mouth of the glass against your lips.

“I barely remember their faces now.” You don't drink the water just yet to answer his question. “So I don't know.”

“That's too bad.” And yet, he smiles. “How ‘bout you, Holden? Who do you look like?”

“My mother.” He says gruffly, tone monotone and uninterested.

“Ah.” Thomas picks at his plate again.

“I haven't thanked you yet for saving him.” You address the large man. “Thank you.”

“I just happened upon the place. My eyes couldn't leave the train wreck.” Holden stares at the same spot on the bar, you follow his line of sight, once you've reached the end, you see a dark red splatter on a glass of gin.

Before you could ask, Eli interrupts. “As is his will.” He's now in front of the fire even though it's sweltering inside already. “It's very lucky that Holden happens to be riding that way.” Eli says those words with humour, as if the train derailing is the funniest thing in the world.

Thomas clears his throat, “I heard no one else on the train got hurt.” You sigh in relief, knowing the real Clementine and her family are safe and sound. “A few railroad workers were injured but they're fine now, last I heard.”

“Yes, it's good that no one else got severely hurt.” Lucy appears inside the inn, smiling at you. She stalks silently around you like you're prey. Your hand instinctively slides down towards your gun belt.

“Well, except for your lad.” Thomas says, you look at him with wide eyes, blood running cold, gun now fully in your hand. The world swirls around you, your breathing gets faster, heartbeat loud in your ears. The air shifts, everyone except Thomas stiffens. “We know who he is. He's a fuckin’ legend ‘round ‘ere, but don't worry, we won't tell any lawmen. We're not like that.” Thomas continues to speak even with your world crumbling around you. He doesn't know what he just revealed. “Drink your water, we don't want you goin' thirsty now.”

“‘L-lad?’” you almost whisper, but the entire room is silent, a pin could drop and you'd hear it. Your words are thunderous compared to the fire cracking in the fireplace. “You said you're from here.”

Thomas chuckles nervously, you stand up, eyes flicking over towards the occupants. The rotten stench under the floorboards has increased ten fold in your panic, the tiny splotches of crimson on the walls and glass aren't just dirt and grime.

It's blood, and the entire inn is covered in it. Hastily scrubbed off the surface, but the mark of death remains.

They all look at you, Holden stands behind you, his shadow casting over you. Lucy continues to smile while Eli looks on amidst the backdrop of the raging fire behind him. Thomas gives you a look, shaking his head subtly.

You don't miss a beat, gun aiming behind you to shoot. But no bullet flies, you don't hit your mark for the chamber is all emptied out without your knowledge. You don't know when it was taken out but you don't have time to ponder it. Running past Lucy towards the stairs, you yell his name.

“Hobie!” You manage to get to the third step before you fall flat on your face, nose harshly landing on the stair, shoulder oozing something warm. Looking over the source, you see Lucy's hunting knife embedded in your shoulder. “No!”

Lucy giggles, and the reverend joins her side, face downturned, eyes following how your blood oozes out of your back.

“Fuck! They said don't draw blood! What the bloody hell is wrong with you!” Thomas shows his true colours, yelling at Lucy angrily. You continue to crawl up the stairs despite the searing pain. “Fuckin’ grab her! Get the key, it's on her.”

“I'm…” you still fight, elbows pressed on the rough wood, crawling relentlessly up the stairs. “Going to fucking kill all of you.” You say through gritted teeth, ignoring the seething pain as your body trembles.

Eli's voice pipes up. “We just want to get you home. God will strike you down if you do that.”

“Strike me down all he wants. He knows where I am.” With determined eyes, you keep crawling even though your arms are split apart by splinters.

You're about halfway up the steps when you hear loud heavy footsteps walk towards your form. Groaning, you dig for the key inside your pocket. The second you find it, you toss it with all your might, it flies up and then it lands and slides under the bar shelves. It's your turn to cackle. Large hands grab you, turning you over. Holden's scowl looks back at you. Puckering your lips, you spit at his face, laughing as he lets you go, desperately cleaning his face.

“Move over, big guy. Do I have to do everything around here?” Silent steps cross over to you while you try to desperately climb up. You can't feel your back anymore. Suddenly, you feel a cloth press on your mouth and nose. You know this smell, it's sweet and tart, but there's an underlying bitterness. Recognizing it from the description on the botanical books you've read, the ones that they say a proper lady shouldn't read. And you know you're about to black out within ten seconds. You try to fight back but you're weakening.

“Shh,” Lucy coos, arm tightening around your neck as she presses the concoction harder on your nose. Her own arm hits the knife still in your shoulder, you gasp in pain, inhaling more. “Go to sleep, sweetheart.”

The last thing you hear is his voice calling out after you. You're not sure if it's real or not, but you still cling to hope that it is.

—

The rope around your body is rough against your skin, the hemp seems to tighten around you as you move. You feel bandages on your shoulder blade, stab wound aching and throbbing. Entire body covered in sweat, your clothes are drenched from the heat. Your vision swirls, mind tethering between reality and fantasy. You see your aunt standing near the rake you just held, your uncle crouched in the corner, watching you struggle against your binds. And him, who sits next to you, as if he's guarding you. His face crosses your line of sight, it shifts between Hobie's soft smile, and his grinning face.

“I told you, you can't leave.” He says, hand reaching up to touch your face. You know he's not real, that he's a result of what Lucy gave you, what they've been giving you— but you still feel the air around him shift, how his palm sits on your cheek like a hot pan against your skin.

“C–Cross,” you gulp down as much air as you can amidst your state. “What did I do to deserve this?”

He could only grin at you.

“You’re awake, good. Lucy didn't accidentally kill you.” Eli stands near the doorway of the stable with a gold gun in his hand. Fingers yanking off his tab collar.

“Eli, you creepy motherfucker.” You slur your words, but you fight the haze. “How much did they pay you just to bring me back?”

He sniffs, “a lot.” The horses neigh in the background, you turn your head and you see Bucky and Cherry frantically thump and kick their hooves inside their pen.

“You’re not even a reverend are you?”

“No,” He says, turning away from the doors to face you. “I was once though.”

“Let me guess, you weren't cut out to be one.” You lean up, almost folding yourself to squint at him. “Or they fucking kicked you out.” He flinches, it's subtle, but you saw it. “They did, didn't they? What did you do, reverend?” You taunt while you try to ease your wrists off from the rope. Your skin stings from the movement, but it'll be worth it once you get your hands around his scrawny neck. “Oh shit, don't tell me it's—”

“It was gambling. I've racked up a debt.” He was quick to answer, as if he's still trying to protect his reputation. “I used all the donations.”

“That's fucked up.” You scoff, riling him up, playing him like a fiddle. “Seriously, so fucked up. And you decided to what? Scam more people by wearing the uniform?” Eli doesn't answer, you see him bounce on the balls of his feet, anxiety rolling off him in waves. “Is there an afterlife, reverend?” You say in a small, weaker voice to rag on him on more. It works when he turns towards you.

“Stop talking,” He saunters over to you, crouching down to your level. “I've already heard all those words before, you don't get to hurt me back, girl.”

“Was it all of you? Holden looked like he didn't want to be in there.”

“Please, he was the one who recruited me. He knew that Thomas needed more men the moment he heard Hobie's name.”

You chuckle bitterly. “You know that one of you has damaged the goods, right?”

“Thomas healed you.”

“Yeah, but still, you've left a mark. That means the pay will go down, that means your share will go down thanks to Lucy.” You can practically see the cogs in his head turn. Tilting your head, you turn him against his own team. “Tell me, would it hurt if you got someone out? You know, increase your pay.”

“What are you saying?”

“There are plenty of alligators here. I'm saying that accidents happen.”

Eli knits his brows, “but which one—?” The unmistakable sound of a gun going off echoes around the marsh. It's so loud that the horses are startled, panicked neighing fill the stable, birds scramble off the trees to fly away. “That came from inside the inn!” He stands up, you drop your façade as he turns away. “Shit!” More shots ring out, then a dozen more, suddenly, it's quiet in the marsh again.

Eli is in the perfect position for you, his body shields you from the afternoon sun as he stands there in a worried state. His gun is in his clammy hand, hammer pushed all the way down. Without a thought, you sit up in a crouched position slowly without startling him. And then you push him on the back of his knees with your shoulder, earning a pained groan from you and a sudden bang when he falls that has you flinching away.

Rubies pool around Eli's body, and you realize, he has shot himself when he fell on his face.

“Fuck.” The voice by the doorway says, you can only see his silhouette, the setting sun directly at his back. He's hunched over, silver gun in his bloodied hand.

“Hobie, are you real?” You could cry, on instinct, you move to get to him but your binds prevent you. Tears cling to your eyelashes as he slowly makes his way towards you. “H-how?”

You can see his face fully now, blood coats his cheeks and neck, eyebrows contorted in pain but his smile tells you otherwise. “I woke up.”

“You did.” Sobbing, you try to hold him even with the ropes around your wrist. “Are you okay?”

Hobie holsters his gun, wiping the blood off his hands on his trousers, and then he cradles your face. Thumb brushing along the tears. “‘m alright, dizzy and a bit of a headache but ‘m alright.” His viridescent eyes are aglow, trapped tears glimmering. “Are you—? Did they hurt you?” He asks in a small voice, afraid of your reply.

You frown, and he already knows the answer. “I thought you wouldn't wake up.”

“With you waitin' for me, of course I'd wake up.” Hobie lays his forehead against your own. He's real, and he's holding you in his arms again. “‘m real, love. I'll never leave you again.”

You cry in his arms even when he cuts off your binds. Your mind is still reeling from the previous event. Body free, you embrace him, face tucked on the crook of his neck. He holds you, kissing your temple, hands rubbing up and down on your back. He apologizes against your skin a hundred times. And you forgive him a hundred more.

Hobie releases all the horses from the stable, all the now riderless horses gallop out in a rush. He guides Cherry and Bucky out to hitch them just outside on the trees and away from the inn and stable. Coming by to get you, who stands in front of the inn.

“I need to get my things.” He says next to you, pinky curled around your own. “Your letters are still in there.”

“I'll come with you.”

“No, you don't need to see that.” His eyes warn you of the sight ahead.

“Too late for that, Hobie.” You thump your head on his bicep. “I’ll watch your back. Just in case.”

“Stay close, yeah?” He smiles softly, letting go of your hand reluctantly. You nod behind him, gun drawn and loaded.

The door opens, you try not to look at the bodies at your feet but your eyes seem to gravitate towards the violence that was left. There's blood splattered all over the walls, Holden's body is hunched over itself, blood seeping out from his numerous gunshot wounds. You walk a bit more, following Hobie's path. Broken glass crunches at your feet, and you see Lucy laying on the ground with her own knife shoved inside her chest. Her eyes are wide open, mouth agape in surprise. By the stairs, in the same position you were in mere hours ago, lies Thomas with a shotgun wound on his back, making you see through him.

“H-how'd you manage this on your own?” Your nails scratch along the metal of your gun.

“You were in danger.” Was all he answered.

As you stand there, you hear something on the floor next to the bar, glancing downwards even though you've had enough of the sight, you find someone who shouldn't be there.

“Culver?” You ask, and he whizzes out.

“Help. Me.” He tugs at your trouser leg, he's drenched in crimson, from his face down to his boots.

“He was hiding underneath the floorboards with the bodies of the actual owners.” Hobie says, guilt is written all over your face. “It's not your fault, love, you gave him a chance and he spat at it.”

“P-please,” he wheezes out, voice hoarse and broken, “they hired me, I-I was just following orders.”

You sniff, fists shaking. “It was my aunt wasn't it?”

Culver shakes his head, desperate to please you, desperate for you to save him again. “No, it was your h—”

Your bullet cuts him off, he lays there, now unmoving, and the gun in your hand smoking. You feel like you're deprived of air. Hands shaking, tears flowing out freely.

Hobie reaches for you slowly, you don't flinch away so he pulls you in, letting you weep against his chest.

—

The flames ebb away at the building, ashes flying off into the air as the roof collapses down on itself. You let the smoke fill your lungs, watching the fire light up the entire marsh, but it acts as a beacon to where you are. And you can't risk being found, especially when he's back on your side.

You kneel down, placing the framed photograph of the actual owners on the ground, apologizing to them quietly.

“We should go, Hobs.” You softly say, tugging at his sleeves.

He nods, eyes flicking between you and the burning inn. His palm is pointed towards you, waiting for you to reach for him. When your hand slides on his own, all his fears melt away. You're safe, and he's alive— that's all that matters.

—

Midnight comes, you and Hobie rode further north and away from the chaos you two left. Bucky and Cherry sleep next to each other, both tired from the ride. You tend to the fire while Hobie cleans his hands in a nearby river. The murky water turns a dark shade of red as he scrubs his hands clean, there's blood under his fingernails. And shallow crimson slashes on his arms. Once all the blood has been washed away, he sees a slash on his palm, identical to yours, the one he sutured himself. He winces, and you turn around to check on him. The both of you had been quiet the entire journey, preferring to look on whenever one groans in pain or when either one of you shifts on the saddle. You don't want to talk about it, and he doesn't want to either. Both thinking that it was his and your fault for everything that had happened.

He holds up a hand to you, wordlessly telling you that he's alright. Nodding, you turn back towards the fire, your vision shifts from the campfire in front of you to the burning cinders of the inn. A wet cloth on your cheek jerks you awake.

“Sorry,” Hobie flinches, taking the cold cloth away from your skin. “You have soot all over your face.”

You smile softly, hand reaching for his wrist, gently placing the cloth back to your face. He understands, wiping away the ash off of your skin. You stare at him, face unreadable, bandage still wrapped around his head. “Hobie,” he hums in reply, continuing to wipe the grime off. “You said you had to leave but you never told me how you left. Please tell me what happened that night.” Why did you leave me?

Hobie scooches closer to you, knee to knee, hand still wiping along your forehead. “Hicks did it.” You listen, hands fisting his vest to tamp down your frustration and everything in between. “He was the one who found out, told your aunt and got a group from the factory to ambush me in our meeting place.” His voice breaks but he composes himself. “He was the one who slashed my throat and…” faltering, the cloth slid downwards to your neck, rubbing along your skin. “buried me alive under our tree.”

Your heart clenches, imaging him clawing his way out of the dark earth. “Hicks, h-he married my aunt six months after you left. That motherfucker boasted that he killed you, hid your body in the woods. But I knew better.”

Hobie runs his thumb under your eye, wiping away a stray tear. He gives you a brief smile. “Fucker wasn't content in bein’ the factory manager, he had to ‘eliminate the competition,’ he said. I wasn't even participatin’.”

“I'm sorry,” you wrap your arms over his shoulders, hands holding his jaw. You apologize to him like an acolyte asking for retribution in front of the shrine. “I'm sorry, I should've done something— I could've—”

“There was nothin' you could've done, love. Just like how I couldn't fight back.” He pulls you in, face pressed on the crown of your head. “They used you against me. Told me that you didn't want me anymore. Told me I was a burden to you.”

“No, never. I'd never do that.” You pull away, holding him close, meeting his emerald eyes that reminds you of the best parts of home.

“I know that now. I knew it back then too, but my anger and frustration got the best of me.” He presses a heavy kiss on your forehead as you close your eyes, listening to him breathe. “Peter helped me get out, and all he got from it was getting his eye taken out.”

You gasp softly. “He helped me too,” Hobie looks at you, hands still cradling your face. Hands that are warm against your soft skin. “He didn't tell anyone where you were, I didn't know until now, until your letter. He helped me get on a boat.” You remember that day, it was raining, it was also pouring down back when Hobie left. Your nails dig into your palms when your mind gives you the image of him digging himself out of the flooded soil, lungs inhaling in rain water and dirt. “I–I really wanted to look for you, to run after you but I couldn't.” Hobie presses you against his chest while you heave, tears flowing down your cheeks as you feel his own drop on your head. “They had me under lock and key, they guarded my doors for years, until—” You pause, hands bunched up on his shirt. “I'm so fucking sorry.”

Hobie cradles you in place, arms holding your form as he lets his touch calm you down, accepting your apology, and accepting his faults. “You did good, love, you survived. But I'm ‘ere now, you'll never be back there.” You nod against his chest, Hobie hides his sorrow filled face in the crook of your neck, lips pressed on your skin, mumbling apologies. “When I was runnin’ away while I was still bleedin’, I thought I should at least say goodbye to you. But I changed my mind and went towards the docks while Peter hid me in his cart.” He leans away, just like back then, he doesn't want to sink his teeth into you, to bite hard and draw blood. “I thought that you deserve someone who isn't me. Someone who's not broken. 'm broken, and 'm afraid I'll never return to who I was before.”

You reach up to touch his cheek tenderly, head placed on his lap, cradling your body just like he did under your oak tree. “You are not as broken as you think you are. Not to me, never. You are everything to me, Hobie Brown.” You hug him, for you have no idea how to tell him that you know he can't be ‘fixed’, that there's nothing to be fixed. That even if there was, you'd break yourself, break every muscle and bone in your body, tore it limb from limb so you'd be broken together. That you'll fit right in where his jagged edges lie just like before. But you know you don't have to, because you're just as broken as he is.

"Is there still room left in there for me?" You poke his chest right where his heart is.

His yearning has taken a form in you, it has your face, and it has your voice. You are love incarnate.

"Always. you've never left.” He says softly, words that are only for your ears. You nod, smiling, tilting your head up as he leans down. “Let's go home, love.” He wants to carve out your name in his heart, but he'll settle for the next best thing— etching your lips upon his own.

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