#it fuels me and will probably give everyone more of this

[richea]

[Translation] Kratos of the Expiation: Prologue-Chapter 1 part 1

This begins my efforts to translate the Tales of Symphonia novel, Shokuzai no Kratos, written by the game's scenario writer, Takumi Miyajima.

Some disclaimers:

I have other projects I'm working on alongside this, so I won't make any promise to get this translated in a timely manner, or that I'll finish it at all (though in a perfect world, I would love to; I had a lot of fun translating this first part!). If I do the whole thing, I'll share my original document, which will have an edited version of the text you'll read below. Think of this as a first draft.

I've never translated a novel before nor am I much of a creative writer, so I apologize in advance if it's an awkward read. I focused heavily on making sure Miyajima's words got across as intended, but given Japanese novels are written differently from English ones, I don't want to put too many words in her mouth here.

The book has 7 chapters and a prologue and epilogue, but as each chapter is really long (about 40 pages each), I'll be sharing the book in its smaller, also numbered parts. So, this is the prologue and part 1/37. My word processor says this alone is around 3300 words.

I want to give a huge thank you to Kevan33 for providing me with scans for this, which allowed me to translate it so much easier.

Without further ado, here's the summary and character introductions, and then the story itself!

Summary

Long ago, Mithos, the hero, brought about the end of the Ancient War in the Holy Ground of Kharlan. As a result, the world was split in two―as Sylvarant and Tethe’alla. However, the worlds exist akin to a waning hourglass, with one of them prospering and the other in decline. It has been 4,000 years since the end of the Ancient War, and now Sylvarant is on the path to ruin, as it has run low on its life-sustaining mana. It is in these circumstances that Kratos will descend unto Sylvarant and have a fateful, unexpected reunion! This is a side story which tells Kratos’ side of the story, who was a key character in the original game. The feelings he’s hidden in his heart will finally be revealed to all!

Cast

Kratos Aurion: This story’s protagonist. A traveling mercenary and remarkable swordsman who was hired to protect Colette on her journey. His true identity is one of the Four Heroes who ended the Ancient War 4,000 years ago, as well as an angel of Cruxis―one of the Four Seraphim.

Lloyd Irving: A young man from the village of Iselia. His grades in school are poor, but he’s quick-witted and good at making the right decision on the fly. Due to certain circumstances, he accompanies Colette on her Journey of World Regeneration.

Yggdrasill: The leader of Cruxis and one of the members of the Four Seraphim. He is Mithos the Hero who brought about the end of the Ancient War, as well as the person who split the world in two, orchestrating this system the world currently runs by.

Yuan Ka-Fai: Leader of the Renegades, which opposes Cruxis. He was one of the Four Heroes and is one of the Four Seraphim.

Martel Yggdrasill: Yggdrasill’s sister. She died 4,000 years ago when humans betrayed and killed her.

Genis Sage: A best friend of Lloyd and Colette. One of the smartest people in his village. He uses magic.

Raine Sage: Genis’ sister. She’s the only teacher in Iselia, so everyone calls her Professor.

Colette Brunel: Sylvarant’s Chosen. She leaves her hometown to go on the Journey of World Regeneration.

Zelos Wilder: Tethe’alla’s Chosen. He hangs around with Lloyd’s group as a spy for Cruxis.

Prologue

The boy introduced himself as Lloyd Irving.

We met in the small, remote village of Iselia. Back when the Sylvarant Dynasty held its rule, it was a prospering village deemed as the headquarters of the Church of Martel. Now it’s but a desolate village, with such a tale only to be seen as an attraction at best.

There were a number of things that led to this state. What brought about the fall of the Sylvarant Dynasty was a decrease in the world’s life-sustaining mana. This led to environmental changes, poor crops, and eventually poverty to the people. Iselia was not the only place that was affected by these changes. The land of Sylvarant―once famed as a kingdom of its own right―slowly slipped down the path of desolation.

What spurred this series of events was a group known as the Desians. The organization, rumored to consist primarily of half-elves, is known to kidnap people from all over the world and place them in institutions known as human ranches. While it’s unknown to the common folk what takes place in these institutions, fear is struck in the hearts of those who see the Desians, as it is fabled by the Church of Martel that the end of the world is coming should they lurk around.

Yes; Sylvarant is on the path of desolation. Within these circumstances, there exists the promised land of Iselia, which is the only place in which salvation may be brought about. The hope for this world is being fostered within Iselia’s land.

The sound of grass being trampled from far away could be heard. It was such a quiet sound, unable to be picked up by human ears.

Kratos Aurion slowly opened his eyes. Deep within the forest, the distant shadows of the leaves shook.

Are you coming, Lloyd?

Thinking of him, Kratos found himself oddly content. A sense of relief washed over him, that finally, the end was approaching. He felt elated, though could not place a finger on why. He had regained his sense of hope, which he had been convinced was long gone. However, the important step in achieving said hope was yet to come.

The footsteps grew louder. At this, all of the forest dwellers collectively fled in response. They could tell that within this tranquil forest, something big was about to happen.

The air seemed to turn tense as a mass of figures approached. A group of eight―all being different ages and genders―approached with stern looks on their faces. The one leading the pact was Lloyd.

The boy’s name seemed ordinary enough, but to Kratos it held deeper meaning. “Irving” was the surname of his late wife. “Lloyd” was the name of the child Kratos thought to have lost.

Lloyd and his friends were on a journey to carry out what they believed to be world salvation.

I wonder if they've brought about salvation yet?

No. The end hasn’t even begun yet.

Kratos rose and approached Lloyd and his friends, in order to see their “salvation” through to the end.

Chapter 1

Part 1 of 6

It’s a wonder just how many people would believe it if they were told the world had been split into two. Many would likely laugh it off, claiming it to be a fairy tale. The land seems unsifted, and there’s no crevices to be seen after all. Nobody would dare suggest the moon in the sky is actually another planet, would they?

Even a fairy tale would require an allegory to hold its basis.

The truth of the matter is that the world had been split in two. The dimensional rift had been cut through, pushing the planets into an orbit. The two worlds exist on a plane together, never to see or touch the other. Despite this, the two worlds do in fact coexist alongside each other. One of these worlds is, for convenience, known as Sylvarant. This world was ruled by the old Sylvarant Kingdom and its allied nations. The other is Tethe’alla. Like with Sylvarant, this world too was ruled by the kingdom of Tethe’alla, and got its name as such.

“These two worlds, as well as our planet of Derris-Kharlan, are ruled by Lord Yggdrasill.”

The angel known as Adol was explaining the structure of Cruxis to a group of newly awakened angels. Kratos was watching them through a monitor, and shook his head exhaustedly.

This was a ritual he had seen far too many times at this point. Over the course of 4,000 years, here on Derris-Kharlan, he had watched as a number of living beings known as angels were born. No, perhaps that’s not the right way to describe it―he had watched as many people had undergone a transformation to turn into the lifeless beings known as angels.

Thankfully, the number wasn’t too high. A tool known as the Cruxis Crystal was required to turn people into angels, of which there weren’t many to spare. With them being so scarce and precious, only selected individuals were allowed to become angels. From there, the angels would undergo special training and become soldiers, fighting to support Cruxis.

Kratos was one of those angels himself. He had a different position than the other angels, however. He was famed as one of the Four Seraphim, the highest rank within Cruxis, and operated directly under the world’s leader―Mithos Yggdrasill.

“Through the Church of Martel, our job is to guide the people of both Sylvarant and Tethe’alla. This does not only apply to half-elves, but extends to elves and humans alike. We will guide them down the proper path, to one day make our Age of Lifeless Beings a reality. A great weight lies upon all of your shoulders.”

Not a single person was moved by Adol’s words. At first, lifeless beings―rather, angels―have their emotions almost entirely suppressed. It takes great strength and time to gain control over those emotions once more. There are some who go the rest of their lives never regaining theirs.

“Lord Kratos.”

An angel appeared on his projector―one with white wings. Kratos instantly identified him as an inexperienced angel. When a person turns into an angel, numerous functions of their body undergo a change. One of these is adjusting the distribution of mana in the body to produce wings, allowing them to pull them out as needed in order to fly. However, if one uses their wings too much, their bodily mana materializes the wings and makes it a permanent part of the body. One of the key functions of turning into an angel is being able to control various bodily functions, though the reality of it is that many are unable to control them properly. A large number of the angels within Cruxis have wings like the man Kratos sees here.

“What is it?”

“Lord Yggdrasill has summoned you.”

“...Understood.”

The messenger angel bowed and disappeared. Kratos turned off the video on his monitor and left his office.

A throne of darkness, suspended in the empty sky. What you’ll find in the deepest part of Derris-Kharlan―far beyond Welgaia, where Cruxis’ angels live―is Vinheim. This was where the castle of Yggdrasill, the man who split the worlds into two and ruler of both, resided.

As Kratos stepped towards the throne, Yggdrasill leaned on the armrest as a calm smile crawled onto his face.

“You’ve come, Kratos.”

That languid voice of his was the same as ever. It was the same as it was when Kratos deflected 70 years ago. Though the light in his green eyes shone differently than normal.

“Kratos Aurion, reporting for duty.”

Kratos stepped closer to the throne and kneeled in front of it. This exchange of formalities was something he had done in submission to the man over the course of the past 15 years.

“There’s no need for such formalities. I called you here today to talk about our past.”

At this, Kratos’ leader―rather, the leader of the entire world―Yggdrasill suddenly rose to his feet.

“Do you remember the day we first met, Kratos?”

As Kratos nodded, the man famed as a ruler effortlessly changed his form. His once tall figure shrunk in the blink of an eye, and his limbs shrunk with it.

“It was in the imperial capital of Tethe’alla. I was still a child, who knew no fear and who truly believed in the goodness of humanity. Since the worlds had yet to be split, the two countries ravaged in a revolting, long-lasting war.”

What stood before Kratos wasn’t the beautiful young man who was a ruler. It was a petite 14-year-old boy.

Seeing this transformation always horrified Kratos. What he feared wasn’t Yggdrasill, but instead the lifeless beings known as Cruxis Crystals, which allowed the body to transform in such a way.

When the elves in ancient times moved from Derris-Kharlan to the earth, they first planted the Giant Kharlan Tree―the source of mana―and then brought along many crafts and techniques. One of those was the material known as Exspheres. However, over the course of 5,000 years, the knowledge of their intended use and what they were originally made for became lost to time. All that was left was the knowledge that they were advanced beings. They became known as a thing that could protect its user and elevate their abilities to the maximum. Such a thing was then turned into weapons of combat during the Kharlan Wars, which occurred 5,000 years ago.

What brewed was an intermittent yet vicious conflict between Sylvarant and Tethe’alla. In order to get the upper hand, both sides developed magitechnology based weapons, and research developments led to Exspheres finding new use cases. Cruxis Crystals were developed in order to allow soldiers who equipped them to become even stronger and turn into angels. Those who equipped Cruxis Crystals would undergo a physical, battle-ready transformation into an angel, allowing them to also manipulate their hearing, vision, and sense of pain at will. On top of this, those with a strong compatibility with the crystals would be able to control their internal clock at will.

The ability to change one’s internal clock―what a terrifying thing that was. It almost felt as if people had reached into a god’s domain.

“What’s wrong, Kratos?”

Yggdrasill tilted his head at Kratos, whose face was warped with agony.

“Watching me change form surely isn’t that surprising. Or does it hurt to see me in this form?”

Kratos cast his eyes downward.

It’d be a lie to deny such a thing. The young boy in front of him now looked exactly like the Mithos Yggdrasill he had traveled with so long ago. Some part of Kratos tried hard to separate the two in his head―Mithos, the young boy who worked tirelessly to save the world and was famed as a hero, and Mithos, the young man who fell into despair and cast away his humanity in favor of playing a poor imitation at god.

This was pure sophistry. Kratos knew this. However, it’s all he could manage to give himself even a little peace of mind. He didn’t need to slip further and make any more mistakes.

“I see. So it does hurt you. If you really feel that way, you surely won’t betray me again, right?”

He said this in a fondly-remembered tone of voice, and it felt like something was stabbing Kratos’ heart.

“Back then, you resigned as a knight for the Tethe’alla Kingdom and joined up with us. It was you who said you’d make a place where all of us half-elves could live in peace, and that to that end, your power was ours to use however fit.”

“...Indeed I did say that.”

“Then surely you know where I’m going with this. The Age of Lifeless Beings I’m creating will rid all of the discrimination half-elves face. It’ll be a utopia where everyone can live in peace.”

Facing the ground, Kratos debated on whether or not to voice the words that were forming deep in his throat. Mithos paid it no heed and continued on.

“Soon, Sylvarant’s Chosen will receive the oracle.”

At this, Kratos snapped his head up. Yggdrasill smiled at him, now in his angel form.

“This Chosen of Regeneration is a 99.999999999% match. This is even closer than the Chosen Spiritua was. This time, we’ll succeed. My sister will finally be revived.”

The revival of Yggdrasill’s sister―Martel Yggdrasill―held a lot of meaning. The reason the world was still split into two was all for Martel’s sake. One huge mistake made 4,000 years ago changed everything.

When the elves planted the Giant Kharlan Tree on this world, mana brought forth lifeforms and completely changed the nature of the planet. Mana was used to power magic and magitechnology, and before long, mana itself had been overused. This overuse led to the fountain of all life, the Giant Kharlan Tree, withering.

“We were only ever fighting to save the Giant Kharlan Tree. We got our hands on the Great Seed, and were going to plant it to bring forth a new tree. But of course, humans wanted to hog the mana all for themselves, and they killed my sister, who was protecting the seed...”

Mithos’ tranquil face warped with hatred and disgust.

“But I’m so nice that I’m allowing those vermin to live. In fact, I’m such a nice guy, I’m even inviting them into my Age of Lifeless Beings. I’ve given them the compromise of a lifetime, Kratos. Martel exists as part of the Great Seed. The Great Seed is Martel herself. If I was any meaner, I would never share the mana from the Great Seed with those disgusting humans. But I’ve gone ahead and split the world into two, so that they can share the mana that comes from it.”

“Thanks to your system, one world is always suffering, while the other is prospering.”

“That’s what the Chosen is for. The Journey of Regeneration is one that reverses the flow of mana. When one world weakens, the mana from that world flows to the other. It’s like an hourglass. This is all we can do to keep our precious supply of mana from running out completely. You said you were on board with this, did you not?”

“Yes, as a temporary solution―”

“Oh, and it is temporary, I assure you. I already promised you―when my sister is revived, I’ll return the world back to normal. When she has a new body, there will be no need to protect the Great Seed as I am now. I’ll reunite the worlds into one and geminate it, allowing the Giant Kharlan Tree to grow. Then, my discrimination-free Age of Lifeless Beings will be born on earth...”

Mithos sat down on his throne, now in his child form. The throne was far too large for such a tiny body. Realizing this filled Kratos with a strange sense of sorrow.

“This Journey of Regeneration is not allowed to fail. If it does, we’ll lose the vessel for Martel’s soul, and this will spring us into another indefinite time frame of trying to make another. If that happens, the joined world you wish for so badly will be a long, long way off. So nobody is allowed to get in our way. Not even those rats.”

“You refer to the Renegades, I presume?”

“Yes. They camouflage themselves as Desians and do all sorts of things. You know of them?”

“I’ve received reports of them infiltrating all of the human ranches and stealing Exspheres.”

“Such a slacker, aren’t you, Kratos? Rats are to be exterminated.”

“I am sorry.”

“It’s fine. What they do matters little to me. Their tendency to kill Chosens is pesky, though. Therefore, I want you to escort this next Chosen for me. Protect her, guide her, and help her through the angel transformation as smoothly as possible.”

“I’m the overseer of Sylvarant, though. If I were to go on the Journey of Regeneration, Pronyma would have to be the one to put the Desians into motion.”

“I will handle that myself. Protecting the Chosen is our top priority. Surely you know this. Following my orders is what will allow you to see your dreams come true.”

To return the world to its proper state―this required fulfilling Mithos’ wish of reviving Martel, and it was the correct path to take. No; perhaps he had just lost the will to choose another path. Kratos had no means of defying such a path.

[nimomo-mo]

Vent

[casscainmainly]

Why Duke Thomas Should Be A Dick Grayson Hater

Dick and Duke is such an underrated and underexplored relationship. Here is my pitch for why Duke should be a Dick Grayson hater.

1. The Rooftop Thing

Reason number one and the start of Duke's grudge should be the rooftop incident in Robin War. Dick, as part of his plan or whatever, leads Duke to a roof and abandons him to the cops.

LOOK AT DICK'S SMUG FACE. Tell me you wouldn't hold a grudge too if this was the FIRST major interaction you had with him?? Duke should use this against him at any possible opportunity.

2. ACAB

From We Are Robin #2. Once Duke finds out Dick used to be a cop, it's OVER for him.

3. Jason and Damian

Duke is quite close with Jason and Damian (in my head, particularly Damian - that's his LITTLE BROTHER). Anyway, these two are obsessed with Dick. You have Jason, with his miles-long brother issues that puts Dick on a pedestal, and you have Damian, who thinks Dick is the best person on Earth who can do no wrong. They would talk Duke's ears off about him. Duke would HATE IT.

4. Robin

This panel from Night of the Monster Men sums up quite nicely the difference in the way Dick and Duke approach vigilantism. Duke is the 'idealised' Robin, whose Robin-ing isn't contingent on Batman; Dick is more or less too tied up in Bruce. I think, because the Robin identity means a lot to Duke, having the original Robin be like this would irk Duke a LOT.

5. Tom Taylor

SPOILERS FOR CURRENT NIGHTWING RUN: in Nightwing #116, Dick gets framed for murder and Babs tells him to reveal he's Nightwing to clear him of suspicion. She says Bruce suggested it, and recounts everyone who agreed:

Hm. Is someone missing here? Oh yeah: DUKE. TT probably just forgot Duke, but where's the fun in that? Instead, if Duke is a Dick Grayson hater, you have the funniest scene imaginable. Everyone gathered in the Batcave, laying down their identities for Dick, and Duke is like 'I don't give a damn. He can rot in jail.' and peaces out.

BONUS points if he does this to get back at Dick for reason number 1.

6. Parallels

Duke's origin deliberately mirrors Bruce's, but that means it mirrors Dick's as well. Duke and Dick parallels go insane: they both had loving families, lost both parents at once, were in the foster system (varyingly for Dick but for the purposes of this post I'm gonna include it), were wards/not adopted by Bruce initially, have a huge reverence for family, have a thing about heights, view Robin as separate from Batman, forged their own identities, etc.

Tell me this page doesn't slap:

Anyway Duke would HATE this too. He'd be so annoyed that the person he has the most in common with is Dick, and that would fuel his Dick Grayson haterism.

Dick, on the other hand, has no hard feelings towards Duke. Duke would be glowering at him from the corner of the room and Dick would meet his gaze and be like 'ah Duke is so cute' and smile back. This would make Duke 10000x angrier.

Anyway that's my ideal Dick and Duke dynamic, feel free to add or modify or disagree with anything!!

[t1red-twilight]

1.5 pints

summary: you get injured on a case and spencer is…worried to say the least.

warnings/content: gn!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, medically inaccurate (i googled stuff but idk), spencer/reader have ptsd, cannon typical injury (bullet wound),non-sexual nudity, spencer passenger princess confirmed, friends totally share a bed regularly

word count: 1.4k

masterlist

you had gotten injured after a case. it wasn’t anything serious, you had just gotten grazed by a bullet on your upper arm on your dominant side. it stung like a bitch, and bled quite a bit, but it wasn’t anything to cry over. even still, you were bandaged by paramedics before being sent on your way.

the case hadn’t been far from quantico, just a forty-five minute drive or so. spencer had silently insisted on sitting next to you in the suv. the air was awkward. not uncomfortable, per se, it was just that everyone in the car could feel that spencer was definitely upset.

once back at quantico, everyone split up to go to their homes. hotch informed everyone that you would all have the next day off. you searched through your go-bag for your car keys, when you suddenly felt a presence behind you.

spencer’s natural scent of linen and citrus would always be familiar to you. you’d recognize it anywhere. “hey spence.”

“how’d you know it was me?”

you turned around, shrugging. “lucky guess,” you smiled a lopsided smile. there was a momentary pause.

“is your arm okay?”

chuckling lightly, you shifted your weight onto one foot. “yeah, i’m alright. do you need anything?”

he was avoiding eye contact more than usual. “i think you should come over to my place tonight.”

you quirked an eyebrow. there was this unspoken arrangement the two of you had; you’d switch off spending the night at each other’s apartments. it had started when spencer began having ptsd-fueled nightmares again and you had recurring bouts of insomnia. and this consisted of sleeping in the same bed, to comfort each other.

“yeah?” there was an overwhelming feeling that he was more upset than he was leading on, and this was even more evident considering his behavior on the ride back to quantico.

“…yeah. i just want to make sure you’re okay.”

you snorted. “of course you do, spencer.” he finally looked up and resumed eye contact.

“what do you mean?”

“i don’t mean anything.” you twirled your keys around your finger, chuckling lightly at the thought of spencer being caught up in what was to you, a very minuscule injury. gesturing to your car, you add on, “well, we should get going then.”

he walked around to the driver’s side of the car and motioned for your keys. spencer wasn’t very keen on driving; he much preferred his passenger princess privileges and tendencies. confusion and minor amusement flooded your features. “you want to drive?”

“uh, yeah. you shouldn’t be lifting your arm, it could tear your stitches.” the sass in his tone almost made you double take.

“hey, i think i’ll be fine, okay? you don’t have to worry about me because i got scratched.” your tone was more genuine but still held a playful element. he sighs and looks a little incredulous.

“just let me drive. please.” taken aback, you hand over the keys and walk over to the passenger side. you raise your dominant arm to open the door. spencer quickly rushes over to open the door for you. “please don’t.”

“uh, okay,” you reply in a quieter voice. as you buckle your seatbelt, spencer gets into the drivers side seat. he somehow finds a classical station on the radio (it’s not all too surprising that he probably has them memorized), and the rest of the ride goes on without a hitch or bump.

when you arrive at his apartment, spencer runs to your side of the car. he opens your door for you, and helps you out of the car. “you don’t have to baby me, spence.” he mumbles out a response. “what?” you question back.

“can you please take this seriously?” your eyes widen at his more stern timbre. a semi-sarcastic thumbs up is all you give him.

the walk up to his apartment is exceedingly more tense. you try to focus more in the scent of the old building rather than spencer’s apparent disappointment in you. the building smells like, well, old building, and the floor creaks fifteen times on the way to the elevator and to his front door.

you both cross the threshold and he sets his crossbody bag down near the entryway. you didn’t bring up your go bag, as you have plenty of things at his apartment already.

he grabs your hand and leads you to his bedroom. he proceeds to hand you some pajamas: an old mit shirt and soft shorts that you left prior. you wait for him to leave, but he doesn’t. “are you going to let me change?” he looks at you exasperatedly.

“you can’t move your arm.”

“yes. i can.”

“you can, but you shouldn’t. please let me help you.” you just about roll your eyes, but you stop yourself.

“i can undress myself. i just got grazed.” you’re getting more annoyed.

“grazed? you almost fell over from the blood loss. morgan had to hold you up. the average human body has around ten pints of blood and you lost one and a half- that’s 15%. that’s not a graze-“

your eyebrows raise. he was taking this very seriously. “the bullet didn’t penetrate. i didn’t need a transfusion, and it was by no means fatal in any way.” injuries like this have occurred before on the team, and the team has recovered.

“yes, but if you lost 5% more blood, you might have lost consciousness and needed a transfusion. can you please take this seriously?”

surprisingly, you didn’t respond immediately. spencer, and everyone for that matter, had known you to be quite stubborn and not known to back down.

“you got shot. you should be taking this more seriously.”

“you could barely even consider it a shot, spencer. besides, it’s better me than anyone else.”

his eyes widen. “how can you be so reckless?” you don’t respond at all this time. you just look down at the clothes in your hands.

“please,” he quietly says your name, “you just really mean a lot to me. i don’t want anything to happen to you.”

if your eyebrows weren’t high before, they sure as hell were now. “can you promise me? that you’ll take your health into consideration more? i have no clue what i’d- what the team would do without you.”

his slip-up does not go unnoticed. “okay.” you swallow your pride. “i will.”

he sighs in relief. “now please, let help you.” his eyes glance up from the floor to meet yours. you nod and he steps closer. both of your movements are awkward as he places his hands on the buttons of your shirt. he unbuttons it quite slowly, and pulls it down your arms.

he’d seen you in more compromising situations before, so this is nothing new. “put your arms out, but not up, please.” he then proceeds to put his old college alumni shirt over your arms first before pulling it over your head. “i think, you can, uh, put the shorts on yourself. just don’t lift your arms too high.”

“i won’t. i promise.” you give what you think is a convincing smile and he leaves to the bathroom.

when he returns, he is also dressed for bed. he guides you to the bathroom to brush your teeth. he babies you as much as is physically possible, but you draw the line at him brushing your teeth for you.

“dude. i’ll be careful. i’ll just use my other arm.” the task proves to be weird and uncoordinated.

you both finish brushing your teeth at about the same time. you follow him to the bedroom.

his feet pad across the carpet softly. the socks he’s wearing isn’t shocking to you at all; it’s a habit of his he’s gotten used to. he turns on his lamp on the side table, and turns out the big light.

he draws back the covers before you can, and you swing you legs onto the bed. you pull the covers up to your chin before he can tuck you in or something. one can only handle being babied for so long, after all.

he has one of those fancy dimming lamps. it casts a soft glow over the room without being too overwhelming. and because he likes it this way, so do you.

he turns onto his side and places his hands under his pillow. you begin to turn onto your side, but he stops you. “don’t put too much pressure on it.” you compromise by turning your head towards him.

his eyes are big and his lips are slightly parted. his breathing is deep and slow. you don’t know who falls asleep first, just that you both slowly inched closer so that eventually there was only about two fingers worth of space between you.

[thesoftestpunk]

I want you, Baby I need you

Summary: your friend tells you someone may like you and so stupidly, you begin to think about them a little differently

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Word count: 5.2k

A/N: I feel like my brain fog made the pacing weird :/

Warnings: bullying, girls being mean :(, lots of fluff and pining!!

Main Masterlist

Pt.2

“Guess what?” One of your teammates, Christina, asks the second you place your tray down on the table, looking too smug for your liking. Before you can even ask, she’s talking over you. “The freak has a crush on you.”

“Who?” You genuinely forget who she’s referring to for a second, but her scoff seems to jog your memory. “Oh. Eddie Munson?” 

“Who else?” She sneers, and everyone else around you laughs like it’s some huge joke, but you’re certain she isn’t joking. “God, how embarrassing.”

Your cheeks burn as they laugh even harder. You let out a weak chuckle, feeling the world around you shrink and become suffocating. 

“Yeah,” you let out, trying to play along. “Could you imagine? Me and him?” 

You blatantly refuse to call him a freak. Since moving into town two years ago, you quickly learned city life and small town life were completely different worlds. Despite falling in with the semi-popular crowd by joining the swimming team, you understood the struggle Eddie and his friends had to go through. You weren’t freak status back home, but you weren’t popular either. Not always well known, but always well liked, and your new friends teasing him about the rumor makes you worry about it spreading. For your sake and not his. You don’t want to deal with any sort of teasing from anyone.

Guilt crawls up your throat as you steal a glance toward his table, catching his eye as he curiously looks on at the boisterous scene going on around you. You give a quick smile, which probably comes off as more of a wince, and turn back around. In all honesty, he hasn’t been on your radar. You don’t know much about him other than the fact that he’s loud, labeled The Freak of Hawkins High, and has made a scene or two in class. 

“Oh god,” Christina sighs out, wiping nonexistent tears from her eyes. “Pathetic.” 

Humming half heartedly, you focus on shoving your shitty school food around your tray instead of eating it, a sudden pit sitting heavy in your stomach. Because Eddie having a crush on you actually felt flattering. 

You choose to sit next to him in English, even give a small smile when you sit. There’s still time before the bell rings, and you find yourself glancing over at him. You open and close your mouth, uncertain of what to say until the words suddenly come tumbling out.

“How many tattoos do you have?”

For a second he doesn’t realize you’re talking to him until the silence makes him look up and realize you’re staring straight at him, expectantly. He points to himself as if asking ‘me?’ eyebrows raised and his already wide doe eyes getting even wider. And you nod while fighting off a smile. 

“Why d’you wanna know?” He eyes you suspiciously, certain that whatever information you’re about to get out of him is going to get back to your friends and fuel the constant fire over his head. 

“I dunno,” you shrug a shoulder, but you’re honest. What the fuck were you supposed to say to Eddie Munson anyway? He was intimidating as hell because he put himself in the spotlight like it was nothing. It isn’t like you hate attention, but too much makes you nauseous. “Thinking about getting one, I guess?”

“You guess?” His head tilts, causing his hair to cascade over his shoulder. Of course he would be defensive. Christina was just making fun of him less than an hour ago. 

“It’s- forget it,” you shake your head. You can’t believe you would trust your nasty, mean friends when they said he had a crush on you. 

Turning back to the front of the classroom, you wait painfully for the bell to ring, and once it does, the room fills quickly with slightly out of breath students. A couple of your teammates wave at you until you finally break and they gesture wildly, asking ‘what the fuck are you doing sitting next to him?’ All you can do is give an apologetic shrug and decide you’ll lie to them later and say it was the only seat you could find. They just roll their eyes and pull out their textbooks. 

“Five.” Eddie’s voice surprises you. 

Turning your head, you hope no one sees when you ask. “Did they hurt?”

“No, ‘course not.” He bites back a smile, trying to act all tough. 

“Liar.” Your nose scrunches and it makes him laugh at how cute it is. 

You don’t mean to, truly, but now you look out for Eddie in the halls, stare at him during class, and hope for one more conversation. One that’s less embarrassing, but you do hope. Despite your friend's relentless teasing after English class the other day, you give a small wave back anytime he gives you one. You never initiate first, too shy and afraid it’ll lead to more teasing. This way you can just say you’re being polite when you wave back and they see, but more often than not, they’re too caught up in their own little worlds. Even though you’re scared they’ll tease, you keep an eye out for him and you learn more than you ever knew before. He’s polite. He lets the cheerleaders walk ahead if they bump into each other at a corner in the hall. One arm is tucked behind his back as he sweeps the other out and he bows a little. They give him weird looks respectively, but he just smiles and moves on. He might joke around with his friends, but if you listen closely, you can hear the kindness and compliments hidden underneath the meaning of his words. The group is small, but he holds the same amount of care for each and every one of them. Including his ‘little sheepies’ which you don’t fully understand, but he used a lot of words you don’t understand, and you thought you were smart. After a little investigating, you learn some of them are made up, but you seem to like the fact that he’s nerdy and into this series called Lord of the Rings. 

You’re starting to like Eddie.

“Oh my God,” Christina moves in your line of sight, in front of him. You’d positioned yourself at the cafeteria table so you didn’t have to turn around to subtly watch him anymore. “Are you staring at the freaks?”

“Stop calling them that,” you roll your eyes. “You know I hate that.”

She crosses her arms defensively. “Just, you know, being honest. What’s so interesting about them anyway?”

“Nothing.” You mutter, going back to nibbling on the shitty cardboard pizza they served today. 

She turns around and gets the biggest shit eating grin you’ve ever seen from her when her eyes connect with Eddie’s. 

“Holy shit. You’ve got a crush on The freak!”

“Christina!” You swat at her, but it’s too late. Everyone else at your table already heard and is staring at you incredulously. “I- I do not.”

“Puh-lease. You’ve been making googly eyes at him for weeks at this point!”

“It hasn’t been weeks,” you mutter under your breath.

“Ew!” Another one of the girls scrunches her nose and jabs a thumb in his direction. “Him?”

“Better be careful, Y/N,” another taunts. “Don’t wanna find you in the woods. I heard he, like, sacrificed a girl out there last year. No one’s heard from her since.”

“Oh my god, me too!” Christina pretends to look concerned. “You think that’s what happened to Nancy’s friend too? What was her name? Bev?”

“Didn’t he like…” the girl to your left leans in and stage whispers, but she could be heard from across the room if you listened hard enough. None of them understood the concept of speaking at a normal volume. “Bite a bat's head off?” 

“That was actually Ozzy Ozbourne!” Eddie leans so far back in the chair that the two front legs don’t touch the ground, one of his legs lifted so the bottom of his dirty Reebok’s supports his weight against the table. 

You’re mortified at the idea that Eddie has heard every single word, but he was at the other end of the long table today. 

“Ugh,” Christina rolls her eyes again before turning to face him. “As if we know that freak either!”

“Tina,” you hiss, not wanting to start a scene over this nonsense. 

“Whatever. You don’t have a crush.” She fully faces the table again and starts talking about the party at Jason’s after the game on Friday. 

You go to throw an apologetic look at Eddie, but find him missing from the table, and a couple of his friends send glares your way, making you shrink in shame. 

Eddie isn’t in English, or History, and you find out through the grapevine he skips the rest of the day entirely. It wasn’t uncommon for him to do, but you feel like it’s your fault. The days leading up to the party, he seems to avoid you, eyes darting away quickly and showing up late enough to class that it’s guaranteed there’s no free seats around you. Christina seems to take notice of your sour mood, but only asks once. You lie and say you’re fine, but you feel sick to your stomach. You never actively partook in the bullying, but you never stopped it either. 

The day of the game finally rolls around, filled with school spirit and a pep rally, but once again Eddie is nowhere to be found. Not that he’d ever attended a pep rally in his whole high school career, but you at least expected to spot him at lunch. He’s even absent from your shared classes. After school, you hang around in the parking lot, wasting time before you all have to go home and get ready for the game. You frown as you observe his friends, chatting away aimlessly and occasionally throwing candy around. They hang around what you think is Eddie’s van, but if he skipped all day, why would he be here now? 

“Hey,” Christina’s voice surprises you, quiet and genuine. “Just us girls… you have a crush on Munson?”

“I…” you trail off, surprised she isn’t faking her valley girl voice, and you feel like you can trust her once again since you met her two years ago. She wasn’t your first friend in Hawkins, but you had been close when you first joined the team. “I dunno. He’s actually kinda sweet. Maybe?”

“Seriously?” And then she guffaws, catching you off guard once more. “Ugh, grody! Guys, Y/N actually has a crush on Munson!”

“I- I didn’t say that!” You can’t believe Christina would do something like that. As you watch them all laugh and tease, you wonder when they all got so mean and why you started letting them get away with it. 

“You said maybe. That’s, like, totally a yes!”

“Like it’s such a bad thing to have a crush on me?” 

Everyone quiets as you slowly turn around to find Eddie standing there, hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket. 

“Eddie, I…” you aren’t even sure what to say as he glares down at you. 

“I wouldn’t be caught dead hanging around you, Munson.” Christina’s voice makes you squeeze your eyes shut in frustrated embarrassment. “Even your parents couldn’t stand to stay around. Must be hard having a cultist son. Fucking embarrassing.”

The lot gets so quiet, you can hear the grinding of his teeth as he sets his jaw. He doesn’t even dignify her with a response, turning and walking away before anyone can see the red staining his cheeks. 

“Tina… that was major harsh.” One of the girls breaks the silence. 

“Oh, eat my shorts, Janice. Are we getting ready at my house or not?” 

Everyone seems to hesitate but Christina was captain of the team. No one was going to say no. Well, no one but you. 

“I’ve, um, got a thing. I’ll meet you guys at the game.” You glance over toward Eddie, watching as he harshly shoves his shoulder back to avoid one of his friends' hands. 

You shouldn’t go to the game, but you do.

Janice called you from Christina’s house, sounding hopeful. You promised to be there, despite your whole body screaming at you to just stay home. Janice promises the whole thing will blow over by Monday, and something else will come along. But it won’t just blow over with Eddie. You know that. He had looked so hurt when you turned around to face him. In all the years of getting bullied, that was the first time he showed anyone what their words did to him. And it was your fault. 

You had promised Janice you’d be there, but when you stand outside the gymnasium, you can’t make yourself go in. Can’t make yourself face who you thought were your friends. So, you walk down a path between the large building and the school and take out a key. The pool was somewhat separated, but you could still hear the muffled band playing when you entered the echoey room. You keep a spare swimsuit in your locker for this exact situation. The sport helped clear your mind and you needed to get rid of the image of Eddie’s broken look.

You swim even after the cheering and the band stops. You swim until you feel like your limbs are going to fall off, and even though you don’t want to, you shower off the chlorine. As you step out into the somewhat cool autumn air, a double door bursts open, and the kids that come spilling out make you stop. 

His little sheepies. Which means… 

Fuck. 

Eddie is the last one out, smile so wide you can’t help but wonder if it hurts. They all talk over each other, but Eddie just seems to watch over in pride. You take a step back into the shadows, hoping your bright multicolored windbreaker doesn’t give you away. 

“Hey!” Is that… Steve Harrington? “You guys were supposed to be done an hour ago.”

“The campaign ends when it ends, Steve!” One of them retorts back. 

“Yeah, well, I don’t have all night Henderson. Let’s go!” 

All three freshmen rush to Steve’s BMW and scramble inside. He and Eddie share a nod before he gets in and peels out of the lot, and you can still hear all of them shouting in excitement. The other three seniors exchange goodbyes before parting ways, but Eddie sticks behind. Neither of you move until all the cars are gone except for his van and yours. Why the fuck hasn’t he moved? 

“Is it just you?” Eddie finally speaks, turning toward your piss poor excuse of a hiding spot. “Or is the rest of the team waiting somewhere?”

“I’m- I’m alone.” It scares you once you realize you’re the only two on the property. Probably the only two within a few miles at this point. “Look, I’m really sorry about them. Christina especially. I don’t know when she got so…”

“Bitchy?”

That makes you breathe out a laugh, not realizing you were holding your breath. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

It’s quiet for a moment as he shifts his weight to his other leg, observing you and the whole situation. 

“Do you want to sit by the pool and talk?” It’s starting to feel pretty creepy outside, and the cold night wasn’t helping your wet hair.

“I thought it was locked after hours.” 

You hold up the bronze key, but offer up an explanation anyway. “My uncle is actually the coach. He got me into swimming competitively in the first place. Technically I’m not allowed to bring friends in but…”

“Good thing I’m not really a friend.” He walks past you and you’re a bit frozen in place, not believing he accepted. 

You’re nervous as you unlock the door once more and wave him inside like he would but you give an awkward curtsy. As he’s turning in a small circle to take in how the water reflects off the walls and ceiling, you slip off your shoes and roll up your jeans as far as you can go. He begins to do the same when he sees you sticking your feet in the water. 

“Jesus Chri-! That’s cold!” His voice bounces off the walls, and your laughter follows. 

“Well, yeah, most pools are.” You tuck your hands underneath your thighs and move your right leg around in small circles, disrupting the water. “Didn’t see you at the game.” 

“That kind of stuff is bullshit. Forced conformity.” Before he goes on a rant, he looks at the sly smile on your face, as if you were going to enjoy this topic of conversation. But he knew you’d react either of two ways if he kept on. Confused, or freaked out. So he leans back on his palms and tries to act casual. “And if I’m guessing right, you weren’t there either.”

“Didn’t feel like it.” You give a halfhearted shrug. “Christina really… what she said about your parents— I just don’t see her the same anymore. I don’t know how it happened, but she just got so mean, and everyone’s too scared to say anything because she's the captain. Sorry, I’m- ranting.”

“Christina wasn’t far off.” 

The admission bounces around as you look at him.

“Eddie…”

“It was forever ago.” He kicks the water, causing a small splash. “Aren’t you co-captain anyway?”

“Yeah? So?” You didn’t think he would know that, and it makes you feel all mushy inside that he knows something so simple about you. 

“So don’t you have us much say as her?”

“With her tyrannical rule? No way.” 

“No shame in running, but sometimes you gotta be the hero.”

“Yeah,” you scoff. “I’m sure getting to Mordor would be easier than standing up to Christina.” 

“You’ve read…?”

“No.” That’s a half lie. “Well, sorta. I haven’t gotten very far. I don’t know if it’s my thing, but you talk about it so much, I wanted to check out all the hype.”

Eddie looks taken aback, mouth hung open. 

“Is that what dungeons and dragons is?” You ask curiously, which seems to take him back even more. “I mean everybody says it’s bad, but it’s just nerd shit, right? Sorry, I didn’t mean—“

“It is nerd shit.” He straightens his back at the new topic of conversation. “All it is, is tabletop fantasy role play. Doesn’t have to be like Lord of the Rings. You could have a whole western fantasy campaign. Maybe even in space.” He’s ranting, and god does he know it, but you lean in instead of awkwardly looking away like everyone else does.

“Campaign…?” 

“Well, it’s…” Eddie thinks for a moment before explaining in the most simple of terms how a campaign works. You nod along, enthralled by every detail, even when he derails and starts rambling about character class and stats. He rambles on about their current campaign to help explain better, and he uses silly voices and moves animatedly. You laugh, but not at him. He continues to tease, loving your laugh and that you aren’t making fun of him. His arms flail a bit and he gives a few teasing nudges, but in his excitement he forgets his strength. 

“Wait, Eddie-!” You fall in the water, grabbing on to him in an attempt to stop, but end up pulling him down with you. The both of you come up spluttering, but you end up laughing at the mop of hair on his head. 

“Shit,” he laughs nervously. “It’s deep.”

“Wait. Can you swim?”

“Well, I’m no athlete, but yeah. I can swim.” 

“Well…” you swim forward, a sly smile creeping its way onto your face. “Might as well, right? We’re already in here. You’ll want your jacket off, though. It’s gonna be too much dead weight.”

“Right, I’ll uh…”

“Here, I’ll keep us afloat while you get it off.” 

Before he can understand what’s happening, you wrap your arms around his waist, your face entirely too close to his. With what little space you have, you can see freckles splashing across his face, and you chew on the inside of your cheek to keep your composure. He avoids eye contact as he struggles out of the leather, the tip of his tongue making a surprise appearance, before tossing the jacket aside and it lands with a loud wet slap. 

“Cool. Now good luck catching me!” You splash him a little harsher than you had intended, but you make a dash to escape.

“You’re gonna regret that!” 

You’re a lot better at swimming than he is, almost too fast to be caught, but you slow down after awhile on purpose. As his hand wraps around your ankle, making you squeal, you tell yourself you did it to not wear him out and frustrate him. That you didn’t want to anger him, as he’s pulling you into him and dunking both of you under water. You struggle against his arms, but he’s strong. You can feel the unexpected muscle against your hands, but he lets you go too soon and you both come up gasping for air. 

“Told ya.” water sprays a bit from his mouth as his chest heaves. 

“You cheated.” 

“I never cheat, sweetheart.” He wades toward you slowly, dropping down just until his mouth sinks into the water. 

“Eddie Munson, don’t you dare,” you warn but your tone is too light. “You dunk me again, I’ll- I’ll make sure you smell like chlorine for a week.” 

He doesn’t listen, and you swim backward until your back crashes into the tiled wall. The cold sends a shiver down your spine. Definitely not the way Eddie comes back up, water dripping from his chin and his arms blocking you in on either side of you. His eyes drop to your lips and you find yourself breathing heavily for a completely different reason, your chest brushing against his with every inhale. Neither of you make a move, just admiring every detail you can while breathing each other's air. Just when you think he might, a loud bang comes from one of the locker rooms, making you both jump and look around frantically. You find yourself gripping one of his forearms tightly in shock. 

“We should- we should probably get out.” No one else had access to the pool except your uncle, but you doubted he would come by at midnight. He trusted you to not fool around, and you really hadn’t let him down until now. “I swear the locker rooms are haunted.” 

Still, you don’t move until he does, and swim to the nearest ladder to get out. The only sound is the water from your clothes dripping on the floor, and suddenly you feel exhausted. Your clothes feel heavy as they cling to your skin. Without discussing it, you both start peeling your clothes off, slightly turned away to give each other privacy. As you’re wringing out your shirt, you can’t help but glance over your shoulder at Eddie, and catch the way his shoulder blades move while he does the same. His eyes catch yours and you smile sheepishly before turning back around. You’re both down to your underwear, unsure of how to proceed. 

“We should shower. Alone I mean. You can go to the boys’. There’s towels.” You speed walk away, too self conscious to hang around too long. 

“Wait!” He follows you quickly, careful not to slip. “You’re just gonna drop the fact that the locker rooms are haunted and then leave me alone to fend for myself?”

Your footsteps slow, and you let out a small huff because you know you know you’ll feel guilty until the end of time if you do that to him. 

“There’s going to be rules, Munson.”

“Oh, of course.” He agrees quietly.

“We go in at the same time and undress fully in our own shower. You’re not to come out until I have, and even then, you’re not to look anywhere but your own shower. When I say it’s okay, you can leave, got it?”

“I think you forgot the part about the towels.”

“Do not make me regret this.” 

You’ve never been so self conscious showering until now. Even with a zero percent chance of Eddie seeing you naked, you worry, but you also think about the fact that he’s in the same exact state you’re in right now. That somehow makes the whole thing feel way too intimate, and you can’t believe the first time you got to hang out with your -possible- crush, you both end up naked. If that basic, no detailed rumor got out, you’d surely die of embarrassment. Turning around, you place your face underneath the stream of water, trying so hard to not think about the small glimpse of his torso that you got. The dark patch of hair sneaking underneath his boxers that clung to his thighs from the water. 

“So, are you from Hawkins?” His voice brings you out of your wandering thoughts. You quickly turn the knob from hot to cold in hopes that it keeps you calm.

“My parents are.” Looking down, you watch the water swirl around at your feet. “My grandmother got sick and my uncle couldn’t take care of her by himself. So, we packed up and moved back here, but I can tell my parents are happy to be back home. It’s less demanding than the city.”

“The uncle being coach thing makes a lot more sense now.”

“Not a lot of people know actually.” You turn the water off completely, and wrap your arms around your torso self consciously. “I’m getting out now.”

It isn’t the easiest topic of conversation, but when she had first gotten sick two years ago, your mother went to stay with her for the three months she had been told she would live. When it was clear she was going to hang on longer than expected, they decided it would just be better to move permanently and the old lady was still sticking around. Despite being so sick, you liked hanging out with her most afternoons. Even if she forgot who you were.

You carefully walk out of the shower, towel wrapped around yourself tightly, and as you pass by the stall that Eddie is in, you catch a glimpse in the crack between the curtain and wall. All you manage to catch is the back of his head, arms extended upward to wash out whatever shampoo you’d let him borrow. He begins to turn and you look away with your cheeks burning. You attempt to dry your hair underneath one of the hand dryers, and it isn't long when Eddie comes out, damp boxers back on and using the towel you gave him to rub his hair dry. He pauses seeing you kneeled down, holding the towel to your chest so that nothing gets exposed and he realizes he forgot to wait for your okay, but you don’t seem to mind as you give a soft smile. 

“I’ll grab our clothes.” He says when the dryer finally turns off and leaves you to get somewhat decent. 

He’s suddenly so quiet as he hands over your clothes, no witty comment or joke as the two of you get dressed. All there is between you are stolen glances and nervous smiles. Once fully clothed again, you walk beside him, feeling a little stiff. Not from how your cold clothes stick to you, but from nerves. The soft lights from the pool make his face glow, and your stomach drops in the best way possible. He gets the door for you, and waits with his hands stuffed in his jacket as you lock up. The grass crunches underneath your footsteps, dry from the temperature and lack of rain. Neither of you speak, until you hit the parking lot, cars too far from each other to continue walking together.

“Were they right?” You ask before he gets a chance to escape, arms anxiously crossed over your chest. “My friends. ‘Cause if they were… I think I have one too.”

“Have what?”

Shit. You were too vague.

“A crush, dummy.” 

Realization dawns on his face as he absorbs your confession. He can’t believe it, and the worst smallest part of him thinks you’ve done this whole thing as a joke, and someone is going to pop out with a camera to capture how big of an idiot he’s been. All that happens is you chew on your bottom lip, anxiously waiting for an answer, and he's leaving your heart out in the open for too long. 

“Yes, yeah, they were right.” He watches how you smile and takes a mental image to last forever. “I’m not really quiet about anything.” 

“I just never expected…” you shake your head and look at your feet. “You. You’ve just so suddenly become this big thing in my life.” 

Eddie barely has to take a step to be close enough to take your face in his hands and lift your head up to pull you into a searing kiss. It’s so unexpected that you laugh in surprise against his lips, but he smiles at the sound. When you’ve settled down, you move your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, eager to feel his heartbeat slow to match the rhythm of your own. He kisses you so sweetly, you really do think he’s a gentleman. A quick slip of his tongue doesn’t change your mind either.

“If you don’t stop me,” he gets out between kisses. “We’ll be here all night sweetheart.”

“I like that idea,” you tease as his lips move along your jawline, and down your neck. Your eyelids flutter closed, and you focus on every feeling.

Eddie pulls back, showing some self restraint and you almost whine at the loss of contact.

“You’re gonna get a cold if you stay out here.”

“So will you!”

“I’m going to walk you to your car, and you’re going to go home and get all snuggled in bed, okay?” He traces your bottom lip with his thumb, the ghost of a smile ever present.

“Fine.”

Eddie takes your hand, intertwining your fingers together, and walks the short distance to your car. You make no move to enter, back pressed against the driver side door, and grab him by his jacket. He braces himself with one arm, looking down at you, his other hand stroking your cheek with the back of his pointer finger. The featherlight touch makes you shiver, and you find yourself getting lost in his almost pitch black eyes. Those eyes that are so beautiful and full of lashes, that a cow would be jealous. You pull him in for another kiss, arms wrapping underneath his jacket and around his small waist. He groans into your mouth, not wanting to leave if you were going to kiss him slowly like that.

“I’m personally thanking Christina on Monday.” He gives your knuckles a quick kiss before taking a few steps backwards, not wanting to look away, and turning for his own vehicle.

Christina’s head almost explodes when he does exactly that and plants a kiss on your lips in the cafeteria, but you just act innocent when you take his outstretched hand and move to sit with him at his table. It felt good, and it felt even better when you give her the finger when she wouldn’t stop staring.

[dedfly]

Before book of Bill finally comes out I feel like sprinkle you with silly headcanons I have for Bill x reader. I mean I should dump this nuke before the book crossed out all my headcanons am i right guys? No? Well too late

And and I need to tell you guys my favorite genre of Bill x Reader fanfics then he suddenly live at your house or something like that because man... What are you doing in my house go party or something

So it's basically living with Bill headcanons more than actuall romantic ones but there is folks who did it better than me

Oh and yes sorry for any mistakes I proof read it but grammar is not my strongest point

Bill as your roomate

Bill x reader headcanons

∆ As I established earlier Bill now your roommate.

∆ How? Well it just happened, deal or it's past weirdmageddon it's doesn't really matter

∆ Well after weirdmageddon he would be more wary and pissy that's for sure. But less obnoxious

∆ Bill is the kind of guy who will say, “I borrowed your car,” after he already drained almost all the fuel from it and give you back the keys as if nothing had happened.

∆ or just throw the keys at your head

∆ And miss

∆ Now your car keys are lost somewhere among the trash

∆ Basically the guy is destructive and does shit simply because he's bored (what a shoker /s)

∆ He is bored constantly so it's a disaster

∆ He can tear up the wallpaper and try to pull some bricks from the wall. And that's the best case scenario

∆ Downald him a Sims 2 he would love it

∆ Especially how easily this game crushes

∆ He would eat spoiled or moldy food and comment it with only "It's taste funny"

∆ And yes if you tell him it's expired he just continue eating while you tell him not to

∆ He knew

∆ Literally stealing your food and drinks while you eating

∆ Good thing he does this few times a week at best

∆ Doesn't pay rent

∆ Doesn't help around the house

∆ Terrorized your neighborhood

∆ Terrorizing you

∆ Hides in whatever his flat ass could fit

∆ Brings in all sorts of rubbish as gifts

∆ and yeah his usual "gifts" are more like like a severed head, but here just really garbage

∆ He found a broken bottle on the street? Present

∆ Roadkill? Present

∆ This dead rotten fish reminded him of you he bring it home

∆ Charming

∆ He might even just spit out a live rat into your lap

∆ Ew.

∆ Watches you sleep. Like a creep he is

∆ But he does this with everyone so it's not like it counts

∆ Overall experience? Terrible

∆ Do i love this idea? Absolutely

Would I upload more? No idea

Well probably just little things i find in my notes

[amorfista]

[WIP] "Shenanigans at the beach"

The Dad Batch (and Omega) deserve a day of blissful relaxation, I don't think there's anyone out there who wouldn't agree!

While Tech is taking the best nap of his life [Part 1], Omega and Wrecker joined efforts to make the coolest sand-Tipoca city there is out there!

But hold up just a second...

-"Hey Wrecker, look!"

"...now wouldn't it be a shame if someone was feeling extra mischievous today?" Omega thought to herself. Turning to her left, lips pressed in a smile, she discovered Wrecker mimicking her expression. Apparently, he had just read her mind >:).

Tech had felt such peace, such safety that he had fallen into a deep slumber, further fueled by his usual lack of sleep.

Tough seldom wrong, today he was.

Because at this moment Tech was, in fact, in grave danger.

...TO BE CONTINUED!!

[Part 3] [Part 4]

(Acknowledging the lil' banner for a fraction of a second, it's just something I'm testing out and would like some feedback if you'd be so kind to give it :)) I'll probably make it just a tad bit more refined and (possibly) include the members of the Batch appearing on the post? but I might just randomize it for fun too. Thank you for taking the time to read this!!)

OKAY SOO. I decided to post these two drawings that I completed a few days ago because:

- once again i deadass couldn't wait anymore💀

- I have decided to make as many "beach episode" themed drawings as I can during the summer (and fall if we get there cuz why not) so i'll just post them as I'm done with each of 'em! I have SO many ideas for it and I want it to be a big project and not some sketches as I had initially planned. I want to make it WHOLESOME and HEART MELTING!! Whenever I get burnt out or need some fresh air I'll draw other things, probably still within the Star Wars theme because the brainrot is real🤓, but just letting you know in advance because AAAH!! this is a big thing for me and I want to share it with you guys because love is all you've shown me and I want to reciprocate 💕 🥺 

- and last but DEF NITELY not least I want to celebrate thAT I REACHED 300+ FOLLOWERS TODAY!! AND ALSO 1000+ NOTES ON MY OMEGA DRAWING??!! IN LIKE NO TIME TOO!!? WHAT THE FRICK. THANK YOU SO MUCH EVERYONE!!

Never before had my art had such an impact in a community. I am so grateful for all of your comments and interactions with my drawings, it's a ridiculous boost in inspiration and confidence :) It makes me want to push my limits every time!! So once again THANK YOU!!☺️ 💕 

Here's my taglist, just let me know if you wish to join!! ♥

@dukeoftheblackstar @justalittletomato @darthmaulshispanichousewife @botherbother-blog @aftergloom @badolmen @ihaventpickedausername @ohboi @stardustbee @nik-barinova @the-chains-are-the-easy-part @gen-has-green-vibes @ejfivercommander @herbalinz-of-yesteryear @eyecandyeoz @noesqape @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @staycalmandhugaclone @callmesunny04 @freesia-writes

[shitapril]

very often see posts about how the one direction fans grew up to be formula one fans, and the more I think of it, the more it makes sense. putting aside the fact that almost all my f1 friends were 1d fans (were ? are lol), it makes sense that a fandom who's fuel was hyperfixating on boys living out their dreams shifted from one form of it to another.

tha being said, it got me thinking - how do the girlies translate to f1 ? and by girlies i mean what your kpop fan would call a "bias". for example, if i was a niall girl - who's my favourite now ?

so here's a silly little non-sensical analysis and comparison that should not be taken seriously at all :

firstly, the zayn malik girlies are definitely lewis hamilton girlies. both zayn and lewis come from humble backgrounds, were subject to vile, inhumane racial discrimination and hate - all while being arguably the most talented in their respective fields (I mean, you've heard zayn's high note in you & I, and seen lewis' 7 world championships). they're hardworking, pet-loving, very fashionable men who stay out of unnecessary spotlight for the most part, and step out once in a while to remind the world they're drop-dead gorgeous. the zayn girls are safe with lewis.

next comes liam payne - and here on you'll have to hear me out with my comparison of every racer and bandmate. liam and george russell are both aggressively british, unapologetically goofy and true to themselves (and i'm talking about liam in 1d not the one on logan paul's podcast). they're both very talented, highly regarded in their boss' eyes (toto wolff and simon cowell - this post is going to be interesting wow) and still somehow not an immediate fan favourite. this comparison also goes wonderfully well with the whole ziam and britcedes parallels.

thirdly, louis tomlinson. easy peasy. max verstappen. both incredibly blunt, dry humour, pr nightmares, do not give two single hecks. people either love them, or hate them - no in between. both incredibly talented individuals (louis wrote majority of 1d's discography, max has 3 world championships under his belt) and yet are discredited ("louis is only famous cuz of his bandmates and the band itself" and "max just had a good car"). the zayn and louis fued also parallels abu dhabi 2021 quite well aye ? (i'm going insane)

harry styles, no debate. charles leclerc - regarded as the pretty boys (the prettiest, their fans would insist i'm sure) and the most popular, the well-liked. both extremely talented without a doubt, but a little bit overrated, and victimised to glorify and support fan narratives. i know i sound like a hater - forgive me, not my intention. i like them both as individuals - their fans on the other hand (and no, not all, i know) are so blind-sided, so insane and cause so much unpleasantness on the internet. almost ironic, how the most amicable ones have the least liked fans lol. that aside though, if you were a harry girl, chances are you went from one fan-favourite to the other. i also just realised - this supports the larry and lestappen narratives - am i genuinely, honestly onto something here ? (i absolutely am not)

lastly, niall horan. now this one i'm sure will divide you all, but here you go anyway. lando norris. both babied immensely by their fans and bandmates/teammates alike - churchboy persona. the moment they shed the insecurity, suddenly bam everyone hates them (niall's mofo t-shirts, lando's frat boy tendencies, and saying things that the internet will not find funny), promising at a young age, yet somehow grew up to be called overrated. their fans are stubbornly loyal to them, defending them through all their rights, and wrongs. it makes sense to me. one smiley boy to another.

this probably makes no sense - but feel free to add your own comparisons, theories, and notes ! there's 5 of them and 20 on the grid, obviosuly disparity for me to go on and on and on about (for example, I see a little zayn girls to carlos girls pipeline, louis to fernando - oldest boy syndrome and all that) so let me know ! let's yap :)

[diejager]

Can i make a request?

i thought of this yesterday what about y/n or the reader has been in 141 for 2 years now and one day 141 gets a new member konig but y\n or the reader is 26 and konig is 19 i feel like this has to be done😍😍

also konig: shy,sweet,tall,big,puppy like for the reader

reader: small,short,sassy,mommy🤭🤭

PLEASEEEE!!!!!

Young Cw: major canon divergence, bullying, intimidation, beating, protective reader, tell me if I missed any.

He hated attention, having people stare at him because he was tall —unnaturally so, towering over everyone despite his young age and timid and anti-social demeanour. He was grateful, really, after Laswell called in some favours to have him transferred from his platoon to a British Task Force as a trainee, someone on probation while he trained and learned how to integrate with the team. He worked well with them, the tall and muscular battering ram that opened up a path and shocked the enemy, working flawlessly beside to team, and yet, he couldn’t work up the energy or want to socialise with them, to open himself up and let them see the raw and softer part of his mind.

That, however, was the least of his problems, they were cordial - nice - with him, Soap and Gaz even went out of their way to include him in their banter, throwing jokes and good-minded laughs, Price acted as the protective figure of his team and extended it to him, Ghost - ever silent and glaring - didn’t mind looming over others and growling orders when someone overwhelmed him, and you were no stranger to threats and blackmail to get someone off his back. His problem, the biggest one, were the envious glares and insulting hisses older soldiers threw at him in hushed tones and occasionally glances when he found himself alone, either training or walking around.

Even in a place where he could let out all his aggression and pent up frustration, he was still victim to bullying, verbal rather than physical, no one would dare lay a hand on him when he was the youngest of the Task Force and under their protective eye. Despite the shielding from brutality, other men still found time and places to openly beat him down with demeaning and aggressive words, belittling his exploits, his awards and all his hard work to escape the hell of his little village (his Mutter was the only exception, he willingly went back on Holidays to see her).

“Look at that giant freak. Reckon he’d break if we put too much weight on him.”

“Bastard’s only here because he’s tall, that’s all he’s good at.”

“Aye, makes sense, never liked him. He might be a nepo baby, pop’s probably a powerful man.”

His Vater was a piece of shit that left him long before he was born, leaving his Mutter to fend for herself and rot away to feed and provide for him until he joined the army to care for her.

He didn’t want to give them more fuel, to retaliate meant more bullying, he learned that the hard way as a child. All König could do was take and take until they got bored, walking away from him to busy themselves with something else. That didn’t mean he didn’t get mad, frustrated or insulted, his hands curling into fists to hold itself back from pummelling them, they were his superiors, he’d be discharged or thrown out for hitting his superiors, especially since he was a foreigner and still new.

“Fuckin’ bastard is glaring.”

He was unknowingly glaring at them, he couldn’t help it, then he turned away, his gaze wandering to the floor before they’d escalate it. He heard one of them spit something out before he stomped towards König, shoulders and chest pushed out to seem bigger than they actually were in an attempt to intimidate him. Standing before him, he felt someone raise their fist, ready to strike him for simply glaring at them after months of being subjected to their intimidation. He was ready to stop them if needed, not a pushover or someone who’d take a beating quietly, eyes cued on the raised arm of an older man, but then he fell, moaning loudly as he fell to his knees.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing, huh?!” You appeared behind him, yelling out at the man you just kicked.

They were as surprised to see you, their faces draining of colour as the others scrambled to come up with an excuse. You snuck up on him as much as you did on them, using his height and size to your advantage to land your blow. You moved to stand before him, a shield to a man as tall as he was, protecting him with a vicious glare and damning words, and somehow, he found himself gripping onto the back of your jacket, your name printed on the back and the Task Force’s insignia on your sleeve.

“He was disrespecting us, Lieutenant!”

You didn’t hold back your disbelief, scoffing so loudly that other people had turned their attention to your group.

“Disrespecting? Do you take me for an idiot, Corporal? I’m no blind,” your words were silencing, sending them panicking for another reason to excuse their actions, something disbelieving or idiotic, “This isn’t the first time I’ve written you up to HR, Corporal Matt, Davis, Brown. You’ve done this many times with other operators, especially to König.”

“That’s because-”

“Save your fucking excuses and fuck off!” You nodded away, watching them scramble off.

Glee and smugness filled him, a disgusting feeling that he couldn’t help but enjoy, even as you huff and turn to look at him, head craned upwards to meet his eyes with soft adoration. You were always so warm and caring, as if you weren’t made to be the ruthless killer people made you out to be, but he’d seen you kill, the cold and calculated look in your eyes when you were deployed. You patted his arm, a smile gracing your lips as you reassured him that they wouldn’t bother him anymore.

”Time for dinner, yeah?”

He learned the next day that they were transferred to another base, seen packing up their bags with black eyes and bruises littering their bodies. Sparring, he heard from whispers, from one at to another, the word spread and he found his days quiet and anxiety-free.

“Danke, Leutnantin.”

“You know my name, König. I think you’ve earned the right to say it.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi

[ckret2]

Chapter 58 of human Bill Cipher in a quantum uncertainty state between being and not being the Mystery Shack's prisoner:

Everything you've wondered about how Bill survived his execution.

Let's rewind a couple of days.

####

Friday, 11:00 p.m.

"Welp," Mabel said, "I've got the rest of summer to try to get the whole story out of him! Goodnight, Dipper!"

Dipper's stomach flipped with guilt. "Yeah." The rest of summer. Mabel left for Portland in the morning. "Goodnight."

He lay down, pulled his sheet back up, and stared at the ceiling.

####

Friday, 11:04 p.m.

It took less than five minutes before the guilt won.

Yeah, no, nope, nuh-uh, Dipper couldn't do this. Not to his sister. He rolled over and hissed, "Psss, hey. Mabel."

"Hm?"

"Listen," Dipper said. "I hate Bill, okay, but I care about you, and also I think Bill might be part of a prophecy, so, because of that—I... There's something I need to tell you."

####

11:15 p.m.

Bill hadn't even had time to start dreaming before something dragged his mind back into the waking world.

There were white points of light as he passed through the hazy twilight of half-sleep. Those lights were his eyes. Lately, every time he started to wake up, he'd been seeing his eyes in the distance.

This time, there was one right in front of him, so bright it almost blinded him. He thought he could see something in the light.

He touched it.

And then he woke up, laying on his cushion bed as usual, watching as Mabel slid out of her room, crept near, and knelt beside him. She shook his shoulder. "Hey, Bill. Wake up."

And then he woke up—which was strange, considering he'd just done that—and stared at the dark inside of his hoodie.

He pushed back his hood. There was Mabel, crouched next to him, just like he'd "dreamed." Huh. Well done, Cipher, it seems you've just learned a new trick.

He tamped down his excitement; he could figure out what to do with this trick later. For now, he had a higher priority. "'Sup, kid?" He pushed himself up on an elbow, roughly flipping his hair out of his hood so it wouldn't keep tickling and choking around his neck. "It's the middle of the night." He yawned and mumbled, "Not that it makes a difference to me, but..."

"Shhh! We've gotta stay quiet," Mabel whispered. "I need to get you out of here. They're gonna kill you."

He sat bolt upright. "All right," he said. "You have my attention."

####

Dipper refused to say how, but according to him they'd synthesized just enough fuel for one shot with their fancy quantum whatever gun, and they couldn't make any more. They planned to execute Bill once Mabel was gone.

Mabel could just open a door for Bill and let him escape in the middle of the night—but that had dangers of its own. Bill would have to travel to a hiding place on foot—and his shoes were crap for hiking—his feet were also crap for hiking—and he'd only have until the adults started waking up and realized he was gone. Even if he kept moving all night, the adults would probably be able to cover the same amount of ground in a couple of hours, he'd probably inadvertently leave a trail a mile wide, and the forest's local supernatural population would definitely snitch if one of the Stans asked if they'd seen anything.

Plus, it wouldn't be very hard for the adults to figure out that Dipper had cracked and Mabel had helped Bill escape, and then everyone was in hot water.

They needed a way to cover Bill's escape to make it harder for the adults to pick up his trail, to give him as much time as possible to get some distance from the shack, and to delay Mabel getting in trouble. ("And Dipper," Mabel said. "Sure," Bill said unenthusiastically.)

But if they could, it would be best if they found a way to ensure the adults never even thought to look for Bill, Mabel never got in trouble at all, and the Quantum Destabilizer could never be fired again.

It was possible, Bill said. It wasn't guaranteed, but it was possible. They had a good chance. A very good chance. In fact, never mind, he'd decided it was guaranteed, they'd pull this off easily.

All they had to do was fake his death.

He knew a way.

####

11:45 p.m.

Dipper was stirred out of a drowsy near-sleep by the door creaking open and a couple sets of footsteps shuffling in. He rolled over and squinted across the room.

Mabel was quietly collecting craft supplies—pens, papers, her small starter sewing kit she used for repairs. Bill climbed into the loft to grab some musty pillows and blankets that had been stored for years in a cardboard box.

"Mabel?" Dipper mumbled.

Mabel put a finger over her lips. "Hey Dipper," she whispered. "You can go back to sleep, we'll be up in the loft."

"Doing what?"

"Scheme-y stuff. Don't worry about it." She flung her arms around Dipper, whispered, "Thank you," and ran across the room to grab her backpack and the height-altering flashlight.

Dipper glanced toward the loft. Bill was waiting at the top of the ladder, a dark vaguely-triangular silhouette, only his eyes visible as they reflected the dim light like a cat's. Dipper had had more nightmares than he could remember about waking to find Bill hovering in the dark above him.

Bill's gaze flicked from watching Mabel to staring at Dipper. They made eye contact. Bill didn't say anything.

Then Mabel climbed up the ladder, supply-stuffed backpack slung over her shoulders. Bill gave Dipper one last silent look, then turned away to follow Mabel to the back of the loft.

Dipper rolled over and tried to fall back asleep.

####

The plan was to create a dummy that looked like Bill to take the Quantum Destabilizer's shot in his place, while the real Bill got as far from the shack as the weirdness barrier around town would allow.

Bill told Mabel that the dummy didn't need to be complicated: he had an enchantment that could make it completely convincing. All he had to do was write out a spell and leave the paper over the dummy, and anyone who looked at it would be convinced it was really him in the flesh.

Similarly, sneaking Bill out of the shack didn't need to be complicated. They could shrink Bill down and stick him in Mabel's backpack, and all she'd have to do was come up with an excuse to get out of the car and set him free before they left town. 

The hard part would be the choreography of the whole thing. They needed Bill to put in an appearance that morning, to prove it really was him walking around; and then go somewhere that Mabel could hide him away without anybody noticing; and then ensure that nobody would see the Bill dummy until they were safely out of range, just in case. "The enchantment's pretty good," Bill said, "but the more people see it and the longer they get to look at it, the less potent it gets. And all it'll do is make the dummy look like me—it won't be able to walk and talk. It's best if the only person who gets a good look at it is my executioner."

The word executioner made Mabel shudder. It would probably be Ford, wouldn't it? She knew he thought he was doing the right thing. She knew it wasn't the first time he'd tried to destroy Bill. She knew she'd been fine with it last summer. She even knew that Bill would be okay. But all the same, she wasn't sure how she'd look at Ford the same way.

Once they had the dummy set up somewhere away from the family's prying eyes, they had to discourage everyone from trying to approach "Bill" until they were ready to kill him. And, ideally—just in case the executioner tried to speak to Bill or the enchantment otherwise failed—they should stage it all in a way so that no one would think Mabel had been involved in the escape plan.

The solution was obvious.

"I live to cause drama for no reason," Bill said. "I upset mortals recreationally. Can you act?"

"Can I act? Pshhh!" Mabel flipped a hand dismissively. "Maybe you were too busy badly impersonating my brother to watch, but last year I kind of staged an entire puppet show performing and singing as every character."

So it was a plan: they would stage a fight.

They were sitting in the very back of the attic loft, behind stacks of forgotten boxes and abandoned junk, beneath the meager light of the loft's window. Bill didn't need the light. He had a pen and paper and was writing out his enchantment's spell while they talked, long lines of inscrutable text. It was so dark that Mabel couldn't even see what language he was writing in, but that was fine; Bill had said that if she read his spell—if anyone read it—it would break the enchantment.

"Whoops," Bill said, "yeah, afraid I missed your whole show! I was too busy backstage trying to avoid your friends and looking for a way onto the catwalk."

Mabel shook her head in disapproval. "You would have liked it. There were live pyrotechnics and lasers and fog machines and a giant tentacle monster war and seventy-four songs and puppets!"

"I'll admit, sounds like a killer show. How about gore?"

"There was a whole song about my love interest getting his legs chewed off in the war," Mabel said. "The sock puppets don't have legs, but everyone knows your own imagination is a lot scarier than anything you actually see."

This kid could have a brilliant artistic career as a serial killer. "That's familiar. Is this war based on that 'cats versus the giant octopus' dream you keep having?"

"Yeah, and you'd have known that if you'd actually watched the opera! Too bad you missed the whole thing," Mabel said. "I guess you were just too busy being evil to appreciate the simple joys of a good, clean, non-villainous puppet show."

"Oh no, I can't believe my actions have consequences," Bill said flatly. "What would I ever have done if you hadn't enlightened me."

"Died, probably."

Bill glared.

"You know! Like you did last summer? As a consequence of your—"

"You shush."

Bill shoved Mabel away when she started to laugh, and held the enchantment up between their faces so he didn't have to look at her. He read his work over, then folded the paper in half and half again. "Hey, maybe you can put on an encore presentation sometime." Bill carefully inscribed four symbols in a square on the folded paper. "I promise I'll laugh at the jokes and fake cry at the sad parts."

Mabel shuddered. "No way. I'm never touching that show again. Too many bad memories."

"Awww, how come?"

Mabel stared at Bill.

Bill said, "Oh, right."

"Yeah," Mabel said coldly. "Thanks."

Bill shrank back. He leaned against a cardboard box, not sure where to look, drumming his fingers self consciously on the floorboards. Trying to figure out the right thing to say to make it better.

"Hey," he said. "If you ever change your mind about reviving the show... can I play the reverend again?" He grinned.

Mabel wadded up a paper and chucked it at Bill's face.

####

They agreed that scripting out every bit of the argument would make it sound too fakey; and anyway they were going to do this on no sleep and with no time to practice, if one of them forgot a line mid-argument it would ruin their entire plan. Bill said he was great at improvisational acting (which Mabel suspected was his way of trying to make "great at lying on the spot" sound good), and Mabel was a pro at getting into character for pretend games, so this should be easy. They just needed to choose a few topics they could realistically argue about.

So they started making a list of things that would totally infuriate each other.

"I can't think of anything that would make me furious," Bill said. "Outside of something serious like a murder attempt, anyway. I'm an even-tempered triangle! I don't sweat the small things!"

"You got sooo mad when I forgot to tell you about my Summerween plans."

Bill grimaced. "Right," he muttered. "That." 

Teasingly, Mabel asked, "Are you still grumpy I made plans?"

"I was not grumpy you made plans. I wasn't grumpy at all! I just would have appreciated if I'd known sooner, I planned my whole evening assuming I'd have somebody around to open doors—"

He saw Mabel's increasingly amused smirk, stopped himself, held up a hand, and said, "I'll save it for tomorrow morning."

Mabel wrote down the idea beneath four ideas she'd already scratched out. She'd temporarily removed the crystal from the height-altering flashlight so she could illuminate her paper while she wrote. "The concert will definitely come up tomorrow morning! And you can act like that's the first time you heard about it."

"Sure, no problem. We haven't talked about the concert where your uncles could overhear, have we?"

"I don't think so."

"Then that's perfect. I can pretend to be mad you didn't tell me." Bill forced a smile. "All right, your turn." He rested his elbow on his knee and his cheek on his fist. "I realize that, apart from the unfortunate meat suit, I'm the most flawless person you've ever seen—" he ignored Mabel's raspberry, "—but for the sake of argument, just imagine something you might get mad at me for."

"Um... insulting Dipper?"

"Now that sounds fun. But no, can't risk it, he'd be too tempted to jump into the argument," Bill said. "Besides, what if I said something you agreed with?"

"What! Why would I agree if you insulted my brother?"

"He smells like a sweaty ferret and when he has a crush he turns into a creepy little stalker."

Mabel laughed. "Yeah, he does. Okay, um..." She went silent for a moment, tapping the butt of her marker on the paper. 

She stopped tapping; and then quietly said, "I'd be so mad if I thought you were trying to keep me from hanging out with my friends."

"Oh, I could do that easily." Bill reviewed his wording, decided a human could take that as a threat, and quickly amended himself, "Could pretend that I'm trying to do that easily. You know I'd never, but hey, the adults here are ready to believe the worst about me—"

"You promise?"

"Sure I promise!" He processed the question after he'd already answered it. "Hold on—you think I'm the kind of person who would do that?" He was, but he didn't want her to see him that way.

She shrugged, looking down at her idea list again. "You've done it to other people."

"Name one!"

"Grunkle Ford and Old Man McGucket."

Oh, of course. That snitch of a backstabbing ungrateful ex-student, bane of Bill's entire miserable postmortem existence. Had to find as many ways as possible to make Bill look bad, didn't he. "All I did was tell Stanford that hick was a coward and a flake. I didn't make him do anything! If he agreed with me, that's on him." Bill crossed his arms irritably. "And Specs was a coward and a flake. Is it a crime to be right?"

"But you ruined their friendship on purpose, didn't you."

Bill tried to find a graceful way to wriggle around the direct accusation that excused his actions without contradicting whatever she might already know. "Did not," he said.

Mabel frowned at him.

Bill averted his gaze. "So! That's great. Trying to keep you away from your friends. Something I've never done to you but would be a really good thing to fight about. What else."

Mabel sighed and looked over her list again. She wrote something, scratched it out; started another line and scribbled it out; and then said in exasperation, "Your morals are terrible."

Bill had to clap a hand over his mouth to keep his sudden laugh from waking Dipper. "You've got too many morals, it's your biggest character flaw. How many does one person really need, two or three? That's an easy topic, arguments about morality can drag out for hours!"

"We probably only need to fight for like ten minutes, right?"

"Sure. List done! That's everything we need."

Mabel heaved a sigh of relief. She read over the list, glanced at the flashlight she was reading with, and said, "I should get extra batteries. It'd be the worst if we got you way out of the shack and then the batteries died while you were still small."

Bill wasn't sure about that. Being so tall for weeks on end felt awkward and wrong. His limbs were always in the way. He bumped into things he should have been able to slide between. The more time he spent in this body, the more he wanted to spend a month at the size and thickness of a greeting card. He joked, "Hey, I don't know; it'd be easier to hide..."

"Yeah, and easier to get squarshed." Mabel turned off the flashlight and picked up her backpack. "I'm getting batteries."

While Mabel was downstairs, Bill picked up her list to see what topics they'd found to argue about so far:

Weirdmaged

Making me think you were Blendin to get the

Kitten fists meow meow

Almost killing me

Not sharing Summerween plans

Trying to make me kill myself by

Ruining Glove Story

Insulting Dipper

Insulting Waddles??? (too lovable!)

Weirdm

Mabeland Isolating me from everyone

Spray painting your eyeball

Weir YOU'RE TOO EVIL!!

I'M TOO NICE!!! ♡

He reread the list, feeling his guts writhe and twist involuntarily.

Yeah. Those were all the things he'd decided not to bring up, too.

At least they were in agreement on what they didn't want to talk about. That was true friendship, right? Friendship didn't mean never hurting each other; it meant mutually agreeing never to talk about it again.

He read the list a third time.

####

A spare pair of Bill's black leggings and a pair of black socks would serve as half of the decoy body, stuffed with old bedsheets and half a pillow that Mabel had sized up with the flashlight so it was closer to Bill's actual torso size. For the time being, the top half of the decoy was constructed out of a flannel shirt; Bill would have to put in an appearance downstairs in his hoodie, and then they could quickly go upstairs and put it on the decoy to complete the look.

He'd miss that hoodie almost as much as he missed his own face. But it was a small price to pay for his life.

"I don't know," Mabel whispered, inspecting the dummy with the flashlight from near the edge of the loft. "It doesn't look super convincing. It's kind of lumpy all wrong." She knelt by it and tried to poke the fake thigh into a slightly more convincing shape.

"Don't worry about it," Bill whispered, waving the folded paper with the secret spell written inside. "The enchantment will hide all that. As long as the dummy looks mostly human at a glance, no one will notice anything."

Mabel gave it one last worried look, but nodded and turned off the flashlight.

####

Mabel crept out of the office and eased the door shut. "Got it," she whispered, holding up a faded black umbrella. "Are you sure you don't want a better umbrella, though? Some of the spikes are broken and I think it's supposed to rain today."

"The other humans will be less likely to notice a broken umbrella going missing," Bill said. "Anyway, this one saved my life once. I'll take it."

"Then that's the last supply we needed to pack," Mabel said, sighing in relief. "It's still a couple hours until morning. Should we get some sleep?"

Bill considered it, and shook his head. "No. Better not."

Sleep scared him. Sure, he endured it when he had to—he had no choice—and, under the circumstances, although it was a close call, he grudgingly preferred sleeping to dying of sleep deprivation; but he kept it at bay as long as he could, sleeping irregularly, infrequently, and briefly. Knowing it was necessary didn't make the fear go away.

It was the helplessness of the whole thing—knowing that, once his mind had shut off, anything could happen around him, anything could happen to his body—and not only was he ignorant and defenseless, but he was also powerless to wake himself up any sooner than his tyrannical circadian rhythm dictated. He lacked even the power to think about waking.

If Mabel hadn't woken him tonight, he might have slept through his own death. 

He continued, "What if we sleep in and don't have time for the fight? I'd be doomed." Bill didn't even have the luxury of an alarm clock.

"Oh—good point," Mabel said. "So we should probably do something to keep us awake."

"Right," Bill said, wracking his exhausted brain for an idea. "Overdose on caffeine?"

Mabel was quiet for a moment. "If this works, it might be a long time before we see each other again," she said. "You'll probably have to keep hiding until Grunkle Ford and Grunkle Stan leave town in the fall. And by then summer will be over, and I'll be back in California..."

She was right. If they pulled off this plan, he might never see Mabel again. It wouldn't exactly be safe to ring up the Mystery Shack. Sure, sooner or later he'd find a way to restart Weirdmageddon, and then he could invite her into his gang... And she'd join, wouldn't she? Of course she would. He just needed a chance to talk to her about it away from the closed-minded killjoys in her family that were holding her back. But until then...

She groped through the dark to grab at Bill's sleeve. "Dance party? While we still can?"

"Sure, star girl." Where had this lump in his throat come from? "Sounds fun. Dance party."

####

5:30 a.m.

It was the first time Bill had danced since his death.

All Mabel had to offer was Sev'ral Times, upbeat kid's show soundtracks, unlistenable synthesized junk, and whatever was playing before dawn on the radio stations that could reach Gravity Falls; the stained yellow shag carpet and homely plaid wallpaper made him miss the dark smoky rooms and strobing multicolor lights of a real club; he couldn't risk drinking this early in the morning if he wanted to have a head clear enough for escape; and he never forgot that, outside of the living room, the halls were empty and silent.

But he'd danced to music that made his eye bleed and his memories howl and he'd danced to no music at all; he'd danced in millions of crummy makeshift dance halls and night clubs and dive bars that had tumbled into or been cobbled together in the Nightmare Realm; he'd danced when he was so brutally sober that time in all its sharp cruel clarity seemed to have frozen to turn a spotlight on him; he'd danced with his worst enemies and he'd danced all alone; and there wasn't any force on this planet that would stop him from dancing now.

After spending four songs in a row making fun of Bill for attempting to figure out how to puppet a human body into some approximation of a dance, Mabel asked, "What were dances like on Flatworld?" It made Bill internally wince each time he heard it called that.

But he welcomed the opportunity for a break; he leaned back to half sit against the living room table, breathing heavily, arms trembling. "Dif—difficult question." He had to pause to catch his breath. His lungs and muscles couldn't keep up with him; this body was too hard to keep moving, so inefficient, 90% of the fuel that went into it was wasted uselessly. It was already beginning to atrophy in the few short weeks he'd had it, muscles withering from days stuck indoors with nothing to do but sit and stare out the window. He'd been made of pure energy for so long that maintaining all the little systems to keep a flesh body energized—food, water, sleep, exercise, not too much exercise, oxygen—felt like a Sisyphean torture. "S'like asking—'what're human dances like'? There's a—lot of variety."

"You know what I mean!" Mabel was still half dancing, bouncing from foot to foot. Bill wanted that kind of energy. "How do you dance?"

Bill shut his eyes, seeing colors flash behind his eyes—gyroscopic, kaleidoscopic, shapes spinning and whirling in spirals. "I'd show you, but there's not enough room in here for me to do a cartwheel."

"Seriously, Bill."

"I'm being serious! Plus I can't float. It wouldn't look right in a human body." It would look better if he cut his silhouette out of a piece of paper, taped it over a flashlight, and projected the shape onto the wall. "Tell you what—as soon as I'm back in my real body, I'll show you how I dance, all right?"

"Come on, Bill! You're just trying to wiggle out of—"

"Mabel," Bill said, "I can't do those dances in this body."

Mabel's teasing smile faded. "Really?"

"Unless you know a way to dislocate my shoulder so I can slide my entire arm from one hip over my head and down to the other."

"Ew." Mabel grimaced.

"It looks cooler on a triangle." Bill smiled wanly. "But hey, I spent all day yesterday teaching you everything I know—you can teach me something. I haven't used a human body in thirty years! What dances are popular these days, I haven't learned anything new since the moonwalk."

Mabel's eyes widened. "You know how to moonwalk?"

"Sure! It's easy. I figured it out in Stanford's body."

"I don't believe you. Prove it."

Bill pushed off the table. "Oh, yeah? Are you ready to look stupid?" He effortlessly glided backwards across the floorboards. He pointed at Mabel's gaping face as he passed. "What do you think of that?"

"Show me how to do that and I'll teach you every dance I know."

Bill grinned. He loved deals that were unfairly biased in his favor, and he loved it more when he didn't even have to propose them himself. "You've got yourself a deal, Shooting Star." It would keep them occupied for the next hour.

####

6:32 a.m.

About fifteen minutes ago, Bill had warned Mabel that he'd just glimpsed the beforeimage of Ford crossing the living room in the future; and then they'd kept partying, wanting to get in every last second of joy they could before he arrived in the present.

But once Ford was no longer approaching but actually there, seeing his face was like a bullet to the head. Bill had been having so much fun, for a few minutes he'd almost forgotten that today was execution day. 

And it wouldn't be execution day if he had anything to say about it.

Bill demanded, "What's with the sour face?" (Ford's eyes were so dull, his expression so heavy; Bill had never seen him wear that look, not even any of the previous times he'd tried to murder Bill.) "Hey, am I not allowed to dance now?" He squeezed Mabel's hands tighter.

Ford just gave a tiny shake to his head and hurried past them, not even deigning to look at Bill, as though he were telling himself he'd only imagined he'd heard the voice of a ghost.

I know what you're up to, Bill thought at top volume silently in his head. But you won't do it. You won't do it.

He met Mabel's gaze. She gave him a tiny nod. Party was over. Time to get to work.

####

6:36 a.m.

Over the course of the night, Dipper had been woken twice by bursts of quickly-hushed laughter; three times by random bumps and thuds; once by Bill falling off the loft and Mabel's squeal of alarm; and several times by Mabel waking Dipper to ask if it was okay if she gave Bill Dipper's old shoes (so Bill could finally walk in the woods properly), his sleeping bag (so Bill didn't have to sleep on hard rocks under a single sad Pony Heist bedsheet), his "Edible Plants of Oregon's Blue Mountains" booklet (self-explanatory), and several other things he also said "yes" to without hearing properly. It had better be one heck of a prophecy that Bill was involved in, because Dipper was this close to just murdering Bill himself.

When Dipper went downstairs, he couldn't even look at Mabel and Bill—terrified something in his gaze would give the whole conspiracy away. He didn't even know what they were planning. Was dancing in the living room part of it? Was it some distraction? He'd hoped Bill would already be gone by now.

He couldn't meet Ford's eyes either, for the guilt of betraying his trust. He didn't deserve these scrambled eggs.

He couldn't meet anyone's gaze.

He really, really hoped Mabel and Bill had a plan. He hoped it was a good plan. Because whatever the heck they were up to—Dipper was afraid it was on him to prevent Ford and Stan from intervening too soon and finding out.

####

6:49 a.m.

After they'd escaped the kitchen, Bill glanced over his shoulder toward the stairs before Mabel got the attic door closed. "Do you think Ford noticed something?"

Mabel was already running across the room, retrieving her phone charger and phone to stuff in her backpack and pocket, making sure she'd packed everything she needed for her trip—everything except for Bill. "I wasn't looking. Did he?"

"I don't know." Bill flashed one last worried look at the door; but he couldn't afford to slow down, he had a dummy to finish. He hurried up the ladder, took off his hoodie, pulled on a tank top, tried to fish his pre-written enchantment out of his pocket in the same movement, and fumbled and dropped the paper over the edge of the loft.

Mabel had been checking her bag for the concert tickets when a paper fluttered down on her hair. She instinctively grabbed it and unfolded it before she registered the four sigils written on the outside and realized this was the enchantment Bill had said would stop working if anyone read it. She'd reflexively read the first few lines before she could stop herself. She froze. Her gaze jerked up to Bill, eyes wide.

Bill dropped down the ladder, snatched the paper out of her hand so quickly it almost tore, and immediately climbed back up. "I told you not to look." He carefully refolded it.

"Is that...?"

"It'll work," Bill hissed, with an insistence that said he wasn't sure it would work at all.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!" He held up the dummy's pillow torso and yanked the hoodie on top of it.

When Mabel didn't say anything, Bill sighed. "Even if it doesn't—this only needs to work until we're on the road. They can't stop us then."

"Bill—"

He shakily inhaled, and then he raised his voice loud enough he'd be heard downstairs. "What do you need to spend all that time around those two brats for, anyway?! What, am I not good enough company for you?!"

They didn't have time to adjust the plan. They were in the middle of it, right now, and the guys expected to hear an argument. Mabel swallowed hard and raised her voice as well. "Not when you're acting like this, you aren't! You're a bigger brat than—than both of—and my friends aren't brats!"

Bill bit his lip, brows drawn in pain, eye squeezed shut, trying not to laugh.

Mabel chucked a sock at him, don't you dare. "You can't say I can't hang out with my friends, that's stupid!"

"I never said you can't!" Bill held the folded paper a foot above the completed dummy, the square of symbols face up, and tapped it twice so it hovered in place when he let go. "Hang out with your stupid friends, I don't care! But two whole days is ridiculous—!"

####

7:02 a.m.

"I THOUGHT you were my FRIEND!"

All three eavesdroppers cringed—Dipper hardest of all. His heart was hammering out of his chest and his t-shirt was at least 50% sweat by volume. Was this part of the plan? It sounded like an insane plan. This couldn't be the plan. It had to be the plan. He'd already prevented Ford from intervening, what if they were really fighting? But what if this really was the plan? 

"WELL! If you're gonna act like this just because I wondered what you're up to, maybe NOT! What kind of fun are you good for, you wouldn't even be into burning a house down!"

Dipper messed up. He'd actually ruined their friendship right before Bill was about to die and Mabel would be miserableand it was all his fault. This fight was real. They were furious. They hated each other—

####

7:03 a.m.

"OH YEAH, WELL—" Mabel faltered as she struggled to think of a fitting retort. "YOU WOULDN'T EVEN BE INTO—into—n-NOT BURNING A HOUSE DOWN!" She cringed at herself, struggling not to laugh.

Bill had been fighting the urge to laugh so hard that his face was turning red. "OHHH WOW, GREAT COMEBACK."

Mabel's voice went shrill with suppressed hysterics. "SHUT UP!" Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she socked Bill's arm. If he made her lose it when everyone was outside listening—

The door opened. "Hey—!"

They both rounded on Stan. "STAY OUT OF IT!" Mabel snatched up a discarded sweater. Stan shut the door just before the sweater hit it.

Mabel quietly wheezed, "Do you think he saw anything?"

"No, n—" Bill had to clap both hands over his mouth and nose to keep silent. Mabel wrapped her arms around him and smushed her face against his chest to muffle herself. They stood there, shaking, until the hysterics passed.

The stress was getting to them.

####

7:06 a.m.

"Fine!!" Mabel lifted the height-altering flashlight. "Then you can just stay here all weekend!"

Bill had on his backpack (Dipper had "agreed" Bill could take his) and was clutching his umbrella. He gave her a thumbs up; ready. "FINE!"

"FINE!" Mabel turned on the flashlight. When Bill was around four inches tall, she turned it off, knelt down, and offered her hand for him to climb on. She stuffed the flashlight in her backpack, carefully set Bill in a sweater nest (how had Gideon flung her and Dipper in a jar so cavalierly? she was terrified of snapping Bill's bones like toothpicks), zipped the backpack and gingerly put it on; and then Mabel was storming out of the room.

"Leave him in there," Mabel snapped, pointing at the door. She was shaking with fear. "He's in TIME OUT."

Dipper glanced nervously at the door, "Um..." He looked so worried. She hadn't had a chance to explain the plan to him.

Mabel glared into his eyes. She summoned up all her mostly placebic Twin Empathy Powers to beam her thoughts into Dipper's brain. Don't. Please don't. If you say anything you'll ruin it.

He raised his hands. "Okay, fine."

Mabel rushed past him to the stairs, trying to escape as fast as possible without jostling her backpack.

####

7:08 a.m.

Buckled into Mrs. Grendinator's car, voice shaking, Mabel said, "Can we just go? Please?" Now, before someone ran out of the shack and waved them down to demand Mabel explain where Bill had gone. Her hands were trembling in fear, clutched protectively around her backpack with its secret cargo. One of her best friends was in there. She couldn't let anything happen to him.

Mrs. Grendinator nodded. "Of course."

As they pulled around the Mystery Shack and toward the road, Mabel glanced toward the attic bedroom window, afraid the adults might have already gone in and discovered their trick; but no one looked back.

Now all she could do was hope the paper Bill had left floating over the dummy would do its job.

####

(Shoutout to the one person who theorized the size changing flashlight could be involved, I'd @ you but I don't want you to see this before you read the chapter. You may claim credit in the notes. Based on the messages I received, one person guessed Mabel got involved halfway through the fight, no one guessed she was in it from the start, and NOBODY guessed Dipper got involved.

For a fun time, go back and read last chapter and this one in chronological order via the timestamps!

But first I wanna hear all your thoughts.)

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Simon Riley NSFW hcs ♡

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Two lovely people asked for my NSFW Simon headcannons and I'm happy to provide!!

Just a disclaimer, these are my headcannons. If you have ones that are totally different, that's okay!

He's fictional and can be whatever you want him to be <3 (except a rapist. We don't do that here.)

If you have any COD thoughts or requests, my inbox is open!!

~ Fi 🐝

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I'm a soft!Simon truther until death.

There's not a single reality in which I can see him ever being too rough with you, let alone hurting you.

First of all, he has no fucking clue what he's doing. He's maybe had sex 2-3 times in his life and I don't think any of them were memorable or good.

I'd wager that all of them were hookups, encouraged by other soldiers to "let off steam". But Simon just can't do it, it feels so wrong. To give himself so fully to someone he doesn't even know.

There needs to be an emotional connection in order for him to feel comfortable and good. He needs to trust and love this person before he can do anything with them.

It's gonna take a while for him to open up, but once he does everything is smooth sailing.

(I also don't think he masturbated excessively. He probably jerked off, everyone gets horny, but especially if we say he's on antidepressants, his sex drive is pretty low. He's either too tired or just doesn't care)

Your first time together was fueled by a, not so uncommon, make-out session on his couch. It'd usually end with you grinding on his thigh or rubbing yourself over his clothed cock until you both reached a satisfactory end.

Simon thinks he could live an entire relationship with only sticking to dry humping, but in reality he's just terrified of the intimacy of real sex.

It's not too romantic, none of that rose petals lit candle stuff. It's not that Simon hates all of that, but I just think it'd be too much for the first time.

He's already so nervous (so are you probably if we're honest) and all that extra stuff would overwhelm the fuck out of him.

(He will spoil you with rose petals and candles another night, even if it just ends you with you falling asleep in eachother's arms <3)

Eventhough it's soft and sweet, you're both still very horny and basically rip the clothes off of the other.

Foreplay is important!!! (For all my girlies who don't drip down their thighs)

Not only for you but for him too. Even if he's rock hard already, he wants to enjoy himself, maybe be a tease. He will always make sure that you're okay and ready (and so will you bc he deserves it).

Would literally eat you out to calm himself down. He probably has fallen asleep while licking your pussy, it's his personal meditation.

Your taste, the way you feel on his tongue and the fact that he was two perfectly good pillows wrapped around his head made it easy for him to nod off.

Also, he prefers it hairy. (Fight me.) (pls don't)

I know it's cliche but he's like 2 seconds away from just coming inside of you the second he pushes in. Not only does he feel good but when he looks down he sees you and he could cry from how happy he is. He just loves you so much.

Can we please put the "You only take half of him" bullshit to rest??? Thank you. We all know Simon as BDE but let's keep it on the real side okay. He couldn't give less of a shit if you can take him to the hilt or not.

(Some gals physically can't bc if your vaginal canal is too short, then it's impossible. You don't want a bruised cervix, so don't be stupid) I do think when he's more comfortable about it and a little more desperate and rough, he'll play into the size kink.

He probably has a huge size kink anyway but he would never make you feel bad if you couldn't take all of him. (Especially if you're giving him head bc let's be real that thing is not going down no one's throat okay)

He has the prettiest moans. I JUST KNOW IT. they're more throaty and deep but they sound good. I honestly don't think this man is capable of whimpering (like physically. Not with that smoker lung) sorry babes.

Simon isn't too loud, but just enough to make you that much hotter. He will try to pull more moans out of you, like a little challenge for himself.

NONE OF THAT "10 rounds Riley" SHIT. (Have any of y'all ever had an orgasm before like?? Who the fuck is going ten rounds??? Not me that's for sure lmao) it really all depends on your guys' mood and neediness on that day.

I do think he can and wants to go a couple of rounds but it's probably more on the rare side and never more than 4.

He knocks out immediately. He's always tired anyways.

I think his favorite positions are missionary, prone bone, and cow girl. He likes the closeness, wants to feel every part of you and kiss it like his life depends on it.

The further you are into your relationship, the more new stuff you can try out. He's always gonna be hesitant at first but if it's not too out there he'll try it.

Simon will tell you if something is a hard no for him and he expects you to respect, just as he would for you.

Would 100% make you ride his face. Wants to he smothered in it okay. (Simon said sit, so sit.)

Simon would be down to tying you up (one condition; you're never tied to anything. In case of emergencies)

You won't get him to be tied up though, that's a real hard no.

I think the closest you'd get to a submissive Simon is if you order him around.

He's sitting on his knees before you and you tell him exactly what you want him to do (one thing Simon Riley can do is follow orders) and he'll pretend to let you be in control and maybe you are for a while, but deep down he's always in control (not necessarily sexual or possessively, he just needs the security)

He loves to get head (not as much as giving it tho) but he will never ever force his cock down your throat, even if you begged him.

He can't do it, won't do it. Has he had the urge and fantasies?? Sure, but it goes against everything he promised when you got into a relationship.

Sweetly suck on his tip and stroke the rest of his length and he's happy as a clam <3

His absolutely favorite thing is when you ride him in the morning. Just lazy and sloppy circles of your hips while you sit on top of him. He loves the sight.

Simon'll gently hold onto your hips and guide you if need be. It's even better if you're laying flush against his chest and the both of you are snuggled under the blanket.

Bonus; he loves to make-out with you. It's an unhealthy obsession that has led to too much lipgloss/lipstick ingested just bc the fucker couldn't wait 2 minutes for you to take it off.

Kissing you is his number 1 way to show you how much he loves you since words aren't his strong suit.

Needless to say, he's head over heels for you, and the sex is great. <3

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I hope you lovelies enjoyed it!

More of my works --> 💫

[genshin-obsessed]

Abandon | Tighnari x Reader

𓆩⟡𓆪 Beware! This is angst with no comfort! Otherwise, please enjoy~

𓆩⟡𓆪 I made this a bit shorter than it was intended but I didn’t want to make it too long and I felt like the ending was better this way.

𓆩⟡𓆪 Word count: 1367

"Ah... sorry. I'm just not in a place where I'm looking for a relationship. Thank you for your feelings; thank you for loving me. But, I can't return that love... not yet anyway."

Those were the words Tighnari had for you when you first confessed to him almost two years ago. Of course it broke your heart, but it was probably the nicest let down you could think of. You were upset, of course, but who were you to question his feelings? Tighnari was always busy with work and his studies to be in a relationship.

Relationships never seemed like they were for him, but his words had given you some inkling of hope that fueled your own feelings. The longer you spent around Tighnari, the more you felt your love for him grow. It truly felt endless. You never felt as if Tighnari took you for granted, he was just as any good friend would be. He supported you, was kind to you, encouraged you, and never judged you. Yet, there was always a feeling of emptiness that invaded your chest when you were around him.

Discontent.

No matter what, you were never satisfied with Tighnari's kindness towards you. It was never something you ever mentioned or acted upon, but you always felt like it wasn't enough. Unsurprisingly, you wanted more. You were in love with him and the gentle shoulder pats always left you wanting more.

That's when you realized your feelings had gotten out of hand. At first, being around Tighnari was enough. Just being able to see him, hear his voice, and helping to contribute to his work was enough. You weren't sure when it stopped, but now you needed to do something about it.

So, over the course of a month, you slowly began to get busier with your work. Twice a week, you would spend time with Tighnari, Cyno, Kaveh, and Alhaitham, usually playing Genius Invocation TCG. But you stopped attending due to taking on more work. Unfortunately, this led to some adverse health effects, but that was expected.

Consequently, you were called out by all four of your friends, especially Tighnari, who demanded you take some time off to take care of yourself. You felt guilty, avoiding your close friends the way you did. One thing you knew you couldn’t do was go cold turkey on Tighnari. It was a thought you just couldn’t handle so that’s why you were taking it slowly.

See, this is where things fell apart. It was a weekend and you had a day off. You went out with a friend and as you were heading home, you happened to run into the group and Cyno invited you to play Genius Invocation TCG.

“Sorry, I’ve been here a while and I’m tired.” You lied, giving them a halfhearted wave.

“Oh come on, (y/n).” Kaveh said with a frown as he placed his cards face down. “It’s been a while since you spent time with us. It’ll be fun! Hey! You can pester Tighnari about his new girlfriend.”

“Kaveh!” Tighnari hissed at his words but his friend had already spoken. Your entire body went rigid at Kaveh’s words and for a moment, everything fell silent. Your heart sank, the pit of anxiety grew within you, and the emotions slowly began to bubble.

Tighnari’s eyes slowly shifted to you, seeing that heartbroken look in your eyes. He wasn’t ready to see that. To see just how much the idea would hurt you. The remorse he fell made him realize he wasn’t as innocent as he pretended to be.

There was a very awkward silence that fell upon the group as everyone looked between you and Tighnari. The forest ranger looked guilty and you looked hurt. Even Alhaitham started to feel a little bad when he saw your face. Yet, you forced a smile, blinked back the tears, and looked at Kaveh which made the architect flinch a little.

“Sorry, I don’t have time for gossip. I’ve got an early day tomorrow but have fun on my behalf. And Tighnari, congrats on the new relationship. Didn’t know you had it in you.” There was a way you spoke that added to the guilt Tighnari felt. He knew you didn't mean that as a compliment.

With a wave, you turned and left, making all eyes land on Tighnari. The awkward silence continued for a moment before Alhaitham finally broke it.

“What the hell was that?” As usual, he was straightforward, needing answers to why you reacted the way you did.

“N-nothing. I’m sure they’re fine.” Tighnari lied as he looked at his cards. Yet, even though his eyes scanned the faces of the cards, he wasn’t thinking about the game or any strategy. He was worried about you because he knew the hope he gave you had just come crashing down. Yet, he didn’t move. The uncomfortable atmosphere remained around the four, but Tighnari remained where he was seated. ⎯⎯ ୨ A Little Later ୧ ⎯⎯

Your walk home was dreadful. Some pathetic part of you wished Tighnari would chase after you but he never did. Your entire walk home was filled with sniffling as you tried to bury the sadness down, which ultimately failed. Yet almost every moment was just waiting for him to catch up and apologize or even explain what was going on.

The words just kept repeating over and over in your head. Tighnari was in a relationship? He never told you any such thing. You weren’t even aware he had been looking. A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you approached the hill that led up to your home. You were so desperate, weren’t you? Hell, maybe he was going to tell you but you stopped hanging around him a few weeks ago.

You fooled yourself into acting as if you were completely unaware. You wanted Tighnari to love you back but acted as if it fine that he didn’t. Even after he rejected you, you hoped he would just one day come to you and declare he changed his mind. You dreamt of that day so many times, yet out of all the scenarios you made up, this wasn’t one of them.

You saw the look in his eyes. He knew how you felt and there was some inkling of guilt within his gaze. Yet, knowing that he might have felt some form of realization brought you no solace. You didn’t care if he was understood- not right now anyway. Knowing him, he probably wasn't even sorry.

Who was this girl he was dating? Did she work with him? Work with one of the others? Did you know her?

So many questions filled your mind that would remain unanswered for the foreseeable future. Your hand rubbed your wet cheek as you pushed your door open and closed it behind you. Your other hand mindlessly slid against the door and finding the lock, and turning it.

Your home felt… dreary. There was that silence that made the loneliness settle within you. Dropping your bag at your feet, you just walked inside and laid down on your couch. Your eyes stare at the ceiling and you were acutely aware when your vision began to blur with tears.

Soft sobs escaped your lips no matter how hard you tried to choke them down. You were angry. Angry at yourself for feeling this way, angry at Tighnari for giving you hope the day you confessed, angry at that girl who had him or whatever. No matter what you did, the tears just wouldn't stop. So, you just let go- you let those emotions flow out of you instead of holding them back.

You officially had to move on. Tighnari really didn’t feel the same way and you needed to let go of these stupid feelings. He wasn’t obligated to love you and you weren’t obligated to be friends with him. Especially since it was so painful. But that dull ache returned and you looked around your living space for any form of comfort. Yet, there was none. You were all alone.

There was a lingering thought in your head which kept reminding you every few moments that… Tighnari never came after you.

[pedrospatch]

a safe haven | three

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: You and Joel get to know each other better and the two of you share a private moment out behind the barn under the stars; an unexpected guest shows up to the party; Tommy gives Joel a second and final warning about you.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) MENTIONS AND IMPLICATIONS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE/ABUSE. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. alcohol consumption, mutual pining and yearning, Joel sings to reader a bit (that is its own warning), soft Joel, overprotective Joel, and a slight hint of jealous Joel. Tommy seems like kind of an asshole but he’s just trying to look out for his brother, okay?

word count 6.6k

About an hour later, after tossing back about three or four bottles of Seth’s crappy beer, you’d started feeling a lot livelier and a lot more like yourself. It was a glass of his delicious, oak-barrel aged whiskey that you had wanted more than anything, but with Esther over at the bar openly flirting up a storm with Joel Miller, you pushed down the desire for scotch and settled for the bitter lager instead.

It tasted awful, but it did the job well enough. The best part was that the bottles of beer were all readily available in coolers all around the barn, and you didn’t need to go up to the bar to get one. 

The last thing you’d wanted was to find out what was going on between Esther and Joel.

“And the next thing you know, poor John is being chased all around the chicken coop by a bunch of broody hens!” Martha finishes her story, throwing her hands up in the air. “God, I wish I would’ve had a camcorder in hand. It was the funniest thing I ever did see in almost two damn decades.”

Everyone sitting around the table bursts into a fit of loud, hearty laughter.

“Oh okay, so then that would probably explain why there weren’t many eggs in stock at the market the other morning,” you tease, only fueling the commotion.

John glares at you, and you shrug innocently, fighting back another laugh. Six foot two with big, broad shoulders and arms, you found it both very difficult and very amusing to picture the bulky blond man being chased around by a flock of pissed off chickens.

“I’d really like to see any of you guys try and take a broody hen’s eggs away from her with ease!” John huffs out before taking a gulp of his beer. He’s red in the face, and it’s hard to tell if it’s from the alcohol or the embarrassment. “Assholes.”

Martha leans over, whispering, “See? I told you it would make him mad.”

You giggle, lightly shaking your head at her. “Talk about ruffling some feathers, huh?”

She snorts into her plate of potatoes, jabbing her elbow into your side. “Let’s stop before he really gets all riled up, or else we’re going to get an earful.”

“Oh come on, John. Lighten up,” you grin over at him from across the table. “I know what’ll make you feel better. You guys want to hear a really, and I mean really embarrassing story?” You pause for a second or two, just long enough for everyone to nod eagerly. “Let me tell you about what Stella did to me the other day in her stall when I tried to take her temperature, it was absolutely awful. Okay, so there I am about to—”

“Sorry to interrupt you folks, but do you all mind if we steal this sweet little lady here for just a minute or two?” The sound of Tommy Miller’s smooth, deep voice causes you to stop abruptly mid-sentence. You glance over your shoulder only to see him approaching the table. He’s closely followed by Maria, who had traded her usual patrol duty attire for a light blue denim dress that sat off of her shoulders, the flowing skirt falling just above knees. Her white cowboy hat matches her husband’s.

“Aw c’mon, Miller! She was just about to tell us a story!” Peter, Martha’s husband, exclaims as he drapes his arm around his wife’s shoulders

Tommy chuckles, shaking his head. “I promise we won’t keep her too long, alright?”

You immediately notice that he’s holding a drink in each hand, each glass filled almost to the rim with a bold, rich amber liquor over ice. The only reason that you’d immediately known one of the two drinks was meant for you was because Maria had just discovered that she was pregnant. It was still a secret that very few people knew about, but the minute she confirmed it with a pregnancy test earlier that month, she’d come running to your door to tell you. It’s the reason she’s been avoiding booze all evening—she’s been sipping on lemonade all night instead. 

“Excuse me,” you nod politely to the group of friends you’d been sitting with and stand up from the table. You follow Tommy and Maria over to a far corner of the barn where the three of you could talk somewhat privately. Accepting the glass from Tommy, you offer him a grateful smile, pleased that you’d gotten the drink you had wanted after all. “Thank you.”

“‘Course.” He nods and tips the brim of his cowboy hat to you in his typical, gentleman-like manner. He’d never lost an ounce of those Texas manners.

Maria loops her arm through his. “Well, it looks like tonight was a real success,” she states as she glances around the room, her pride written clearly across her face. “Wouldn’t you say so?”

“Absolutely,” you agree, enthusiastically. You smile again and lift your glass to the couple as you toast, “Another year and another success. Here’s to many, many more to come.”

“Cheers to that, little lady,” Tommy grins and lifts up his glass, clinking the rim of it to yours before taking a generous drink, nearly draining it in one single gulp. “Thanks for stoppin’ by earlier and helpin’ set the place up, by the way. We really appreciate it.”

You wave your free hand at him. “Oh, no need to thank me at all. You already know that I was more than happy to help out,” you tell him as you take a careful sip of whiskey. The hard liquor burns its way down your throat in the sweetest way. Taking another sip, you turn to look at Maria, unable to help yourself from admiring her gorgeous, natural glow. “How are you feeling?”

“Not too bad,” Maria replies with a smile, placing her free hand over her flat stomach. At only a few weeks along, she still had quite a long way to go before she began to show. “Just a little bit of morning sickness here and there, but so far, so good.” She pauses and leans her body into Tommy’s side. “I never thought I’d be having a baby in my forties,” she muses with a laugh. “I thought that train had left the station a long time ago. But I guess life had something else planned for me.”

“For us,” Tommy corrects, playfully nudging her.

“For us,” Maria echoes, giving him a loving kiss on his cheek. “Luke calls it a geriatric pregnancy. He told me I’m automatically considered high risk, due to my age and all. But we’re hoping it’ll go smoothly.”

You detect the genuine concern behind her optimistic smile and reach out, gently touching her arm. “I’m sure it will all turn out fine. You just have to make sure that you’re taking good care of yourself and getting plenty of rest.” You point a finger at her, wagging it back and forth. “So, that means no more patrol duties for you, Mrs. Miller.”

“Oh I know,” she laughs again. “I’m on light work duties starting next week and in a few months, it’ll be strict bed rest for me. At least, that’s what Luke recommended, but I’m hoping to stay on my feet for a little bit longer than that.” She tilts her head curiously to the side as she looks at you. “Speaking of Luke, is he around? We haven’t seen him at all tonight.”

Throat bobbing, you grip your glass tightly in your hand. The corners of your mouth threaten to turn downward, but you manage to hold your smile well enough.

At this point, you had pretty much lost track of the number times you’d been asked about Luke.

Where is he? Why isn’t he here with you? Do you think there’s a chance he’ll show up tonight? Can’t you go home and convince him to join us? 

You just about loathed the way he was considered to be a hero in Jackson. The way that every single person in the community adored the man to pieces made you sick to your stomach—Luke was anything but a hero, but nobody knew that. Not a single soul knew the real him, the monster that emerged behind closed doors, the terrible things he did when no one was around.

There had been an occasion or two where you had considered going to Tommy and Maria about it, to tell them all about the horrors that went on within the walls of your home. But even when they’d point out a bruise on your arm or a scrape on your cheek, you would lose the courage and chalk it up to a clumsy accident or injuries sustained while on the job—hell, just a few months ago, you’d blamed an injured shoulder on Ranger, telling Tommy that his beloved stallion had accidentally kicked you during one of your routine examinations. You wanted nothing more than to tell him that it hadn’t been his horse who put you in a sling for three weeks, it had been Luke. But how the hell could you do that?

Luke is the commune’s physician. The commune’s only physician. 

Besides the two older nurses who worked in the clinic along with him, he was the only medically trained professional who knew how to treat severe injuries, perform minor surgeries, and diagnose illnesses—as much as you hated to admit it, Jackson needed him. If you told Tommy and Maria about everything that he’d done to you over the last two years, then you’d risk getting Luke locked up in the town jail, or possibly even thrown out and exiled from the settlement. What would that mean for the people in the community who fell ill or became injured and needed a doctor?

Maybe he wasn’t a hero to you, but to everybody else, he was. People could die without him and his medical knowledge. Hell, Maria would need Luke now more than ever now that she was pregnant.

For as much as you wanted to tell them the truth about him, you just couldn’t find the guts to do it, not when the decision would impact every single person in Jackson.It would be too selfish.

So, you kept quiet and continued to let it happen because what else could you do? 

Nothing. 

There wasn’t a goddamn thing you could do about it.

Tommy says your name, snapping you back out of your thoughts. “Hey, you alright?” he asks you as he gingerly touches your shoulder. “You zoned out on us for a minute there.”

You blink. “Yeah sorry, I’m alright. Um, Luke decided to stay at home and get some rest,” you reply as you shift awkwardly from boot to boot, feeling a sudden heat flood your face. “He’s been working a lot of hours at the clinic and making house calls as well, so he’s just been really tired, you know?”

“Oh, well that’s too bad,” Maria frowns. “Tommy and I were hoping we could say this to the both of you together, but I suppose you’ll have to give him the message on our behalf when you get home to him later tonight.”

You shoot her a puzzled look. “What is it?”

“We know we don’t say this as often as we should, but you and Luke do so much for us. So much for Jackson,” Tommy says, sincere gratitude dripping from his tone. “We’re damn lucky to have the two of you here. Me and Maria, and everyone in this community, we’re all deeply indebted to both of you for all you do.”

You stare at him. “Everyone here works very hard, Tommy—”

“Now, I ain’t saying they don’t,” he interrupts you by holding up his hand. “But let’s be honest here. Luke, he takes good care of all of our people, you take good care of all of our horses—people and horses, that’s what keeps this place runnin’ like a well oiled machine and you know it just as well as we do. Without the both of you lookin’ after our two most important resources, I ain’t all too sure where the hell this place would be.”

Maria nods in agreement with her husband and squeezes his arm. “Oh, don’t be so modest,” she remarks upon seeing the bewildered expression on your face. “He’s right. And we need you to know how much we appreciate everything the two of you do for this community.”

Tommy grins, raising his glass in a toast. “To you and Luke.”

Stomach churning, you flash them your very best smile and lift your own glass, clinking it against his and then to Maria’s bottle of lemonade. “Well, I will certainly give him the kind message when I get home tonight. Thank you.” You take a quick sip of your drink, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. The room feels hot, like it had been lit on fire and you were standing too close to the flames. “It’s starting to feel a bit warm in here. I’m going to go outside for a minute to get some fresh air. Excuse me.”

Before either of them can utter another word, you spin around on your heel and hastily make your way across the barn towards the exit, being careful not to bump into the dancing couples on the dance floor along the way. Even as you hurried out, you’d caught sight of Ellie sitting with Dina at one of the tables, digging into her plate full of barbecue. Dina had leaned over and whispered something into Ellie’s ear and Ellie let out a loud, obnoxious cackle through a mouthful of food.

Despite the circumstances, you can’t help but smile—an actual, genuine smile this time around.

At least Ellie seemed to be having a good time.

That’s more than enough for you.

Joel glimpses over Esther’s shoulder. 

His eyebrows pull together in a mixture of confusion and concern as he watches you practically run out of the barn alone with a drink clutched in your hand and a strange expression on your face—you appear to be upset over something.

The blonde in front of him had been going on and on about where she was from, although he hadn’t quite been listening to her the entire time she had been talking—or at all. 

Had Esther said Vermont? Or maybe it had been Virginia?

Joel wasn’t all too sure, but he didn’t care enough to ask her to clarify. Besides, his thoughts were far too busy preoccupied with someone else. Someone he needed to make sure was alright.

“Listen Esther, s’been real nice talkin’ to you,” he states as he offers the woman the most polite smile he can possibly muster up for her. He tries to ignore the awkward way she’d pouted her lips at him, a sad, disappointed look flashing in her eyes. “But I’ve gotta go and take care of somethin’ for a minute. Will you excuse me?”

He doesn’t even give Esther the chance to respond. Setting his drink down on the counter, he gives her a quick nod goodbye and steps around her. He starts towards the barn’s exit, but before leaving, he tosses a quick glance in Ellie’s direction just to make sure she’s still doing okay without him. He had been keeping a close and watchful eye on her from the bar the entire time. After a while, it soon became apparent to Joel that Ellie had been doing just fine. She’s scarfing down another heaping helping of bison and potatoes, grinning from ear to ear as she talks with Dina, who seems to be enjoying her company despite her poor table manners.

Joel steps outside into the night and he takes a look around, searching for you among the small, scattered groups of people who stood mingling with one another. Gossiping women, drunk and rowdy patrolmen, children running around—he jumps slightly as a giggling little redheaded girl who can’t be older than five circles around his legs with a curly haired boy who is about the same age chasing after her. He lightly shoos them away from him and they take off running in another direction.

He scans his surroundings once more.

You’re nowhere to be found.

Humming, Joel glances down.

He notices a long trail of footprints left behind by what had to be a pair of cowboy boots, similar to the ones you’d been wearing. The strange way in which they veered off in a random direction away from the rest of the crowd tips him off almost a bit too easily—he knows they belong to you. Without giving it a second thought, he starts to follow your tracks and they lead him all the way around to the back of the barn.

That’s where Joel finds you, leaning against the wooden paddock fence. You’re back is to him, your head tilted upwards. Your gaze seems to be lost somewhere up in the velvet, purple night sky and you’re swaying along to the pretty country melody that, even outside, can still be heard coming from inside the barn.

Turn around, a sound voice in the back of his mind tries to reason with him. Go go back inside.

He ignores it, his legs moving forward, eager to close the distance between the two of you.

The sound of his heavy boots crunching on the rocks in the dirt as he draws closer to you causes you to jump. Whirling around, you gasp and your free hand flies to your chest.

“M’sorry,” Joel quickly apologizes, holding up both his hands to show you he’s not a threat. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Joel?” You’re surprised to see him.  “What are you doing out here?”

The area out behind the barn is just as dark as it is secluded, however, the moon is full, big, and bright, its silvery glow illuminating each and every single one of your features in such a beautiful way that it makes his throat go dry, just like it had earlier that evening when he’d first seen you in that dress.

“Well ain’t that funny. I was actually just ‘bout to ask you the same exact question, darlin’.” He falls into step beside you, leaning back against the fence. “What are you doin’ out here all by your lonesome?”

“Oh, I just needed some fresh air, that’s all,” you reply with a small, light shrug of your shoulders. You turn back around, leaning your forearms on top of the wooden fence, both hands wrapped firmly around your glass of whiskey. You’re standing so close to Joel that your shoulder touches his, though neither of you make a move to put space in between your bodies. “What’s your excuse?”

“Needed a breather from Esther,” he confesses. 

It was partially the truth. 

He couldn’t tell you he’d really come outside to check on you.

“What do you mean? Didn’t you like her?”

“Don’t get me wrong, she’s nice and all,” Joel says, letting out a chuckle. He shakes his head. “She just ain’t the kind of company I’m lookin’ for tonight, y’know?” He pauses for just a brief second and crosses his arms over his chest, his sudden change in position causing his shoulder to press even closer against your own. “Tommy mentioned her to me when we were havin’ lunch together yesterday. Said he’d be willin’ to set us up, but I didn’t think his dumbass would actually follow through with it.”

Confused, you shoot him a strange look.

“I’d told him I wasn’t interested in meetin’ her, but Tommy’s always had a real habit of not listenin’ to me,” he remarks, shaking his head once again.

The question falls from your lips before you can even think about trying to stop it. “Why aren’t you interested in her?” you blurt. Awkwardly, you clear your throat and add in a nonchalant tone, “Esther’s gorgeous, Joel. Most guys around here would jump at the chance to be with her.”

“S’like I told you. She just ain’t the kind of company I’m lookin’ for tonight.”

“So then, what kind of company are you looking for?”

Joel hesitates, then answers honestly. “Yours.”

“Oh,” you breathe out, your heart skipping a nervous beat.

He tests the waters. “That alright to say?”

“Mhm,” is all you’re able to utter.

Fighting to take a steady, even breath, you clutch at your glass even harder. 

“Y’know, when I was on my way out here, I saw Ellie and Dina still sittin’ together,” Joel finally says after a minute or two, breaking the silence. “She honestly seems to be havin’ a real good time with her.” He nudges your shoulder with his own, a hint of amusement in his voice as he turns to you and asks, “Now tell me why I’ve got this strange little feelin’ that you had somethin’ to do with that?”

Your immediate expression of guilt prompts his grin. 

You’d been caught red handed.

“Okay, so I may or may not have talked to Dina earlier today while we were setting up the barn for the party. I asked if she could do me a favor and at least try and talk to Ellie tonight,” you admit, sheepishly. “I told her about how much Ellie reminds me of her, and how I thought they would get along.” You feel his dark eyes fix themselves intently on you and the heat creeps to your cheeks as you continue to explain yourself to him. It’s only just now occurred to you that perhaps you should have ran the idea by Joel—he’s her guardian and the last thing you want to do is cross his boundaries. “It took a little convincing, but she agreed. Dina can still be quite shy sometimes, but she’s a really good girl, Joel. I promise.”

Joel raises an eyebrow at you, letting his arms fall down to his sides. “Really? You did that?”

“Yeah. I did.” Anxiously, you take a long sip of liquor before adding, “I hope that’s okay.”

“‘Course it is, darlin’. I really appreciate you doin’ that for Ellie.” Joel’s gaze softens and meets yours with genuine sincerity. “I appreciate everythin’ that you’ve done for her. It means a lot to me. More than I can probably even explain.”

“I can tell how important she is to you.”

Joel nods. “Ellie’s the most important thing in the world to me.” He stops, exhaling a long, heavy sigh. “She’s been through a whole lot—a hell of a lot more than anyone her age should have to go through.” Once again, he pauses momentarily, trying to keep his emotions in check. He swallows harshly and subconsciously leans closer towards you without realizing it. “Ellie, she ain’t my blood, but she’s my daughter. For a long time, I thought I couldn’t take care of her. I thought that I didn’t have what it takes to protect her.”

“And what about now?”

“Now that we’re here, I feel real different ‘bout it all. I finally feel like I can keep Ellie safe, y’know? Give her the life she deserves,” Joel states, sounding a bit relieved, almost like he’s only just now made the realization that things are different now—it’s not like it was while they’d been out on the road. Each day isn’t a fight for survival, a game of trying to stay alive long enough just to see the next. Sleeping in the dirt, watching her go hungry, seeing her have to wear the same dirty clothes for weeks at a time, those were all now things of the past.

Pulling yourself back from the fence, you glance up at him with a curious expression. 

“Ellie hasn’t told me all that much about what she’s gone through—about what either of you have gone through.” You catch sight of the worry that flashes in his eyes and reassure him, “And I don’t plan on asking because it isn’t any of my business. But in the short time I’ve gotten to know Ellie, I’ve already seen it in her eyes, Joel. It’s all there.”

“What’s there?”

“Every bad thing that’s ever happened to her.”

Joel hangs his head. “Jesus.”

And just like that, he somehow feels like a fucking failure all over again.

“I know that you’re worried about her, Joel. I don’t blame you, but you’re doing all that you can do,” you remind him, the kindness in your voice bringing him the warmth and comfort he’s been needing for far too long. “You’re here in the community now and she’s safe. That’s what matters—all the rest is going to fall right into place soon enough. Just give her a bit of time and don’t put so much pressure on yourself.”

Joel sighs. “I just want what’s best for her, y’know? Just like any normal parent would want for their kid.”

“And you are doing the best that you can, just like any normal parent would.” You reach out, gently placing your hand on his bare forearm, your thumb brushing his warm skin. Your mere touch sends a tingle up his spine, and he can’t help but wonder if the connection had done the same for you. “It’s easy to see how much you care about her. How much you love her.”

“I do love her,” he murmurs. It feels odd, almost foreign for him to say it out loud. Of course he loves Ellie, and although he’s fairly certain she knew that and she loved him too, those three specific words had never been exchanged between them, and he had a hunch they never would be. “All I want is to do right by her. After everythin’ she’s been through—I just want her to finally be happy.”

“That says a lot about the kind of man you are.”

Biting back a scoff, Joel shakes his head. He doesn’t want you thinking he’s a good person—you’d be horrified if you knew about all the blood that stained his hands, about all of the things he’d done in the last two decades to survive. He’d stolen, he’d destroyed, he’d murdered. He’d lied.

He was not a good man. 

Your hand drops away from his arm, a lot sooner than either of you would have liked.

“So, what’s your story?” he asks, deciding to switch the focus of the conversation onto you. “How’d you end up in good ol’ Jackson, Wyoming?” 

“You take another sip of your drink, which is now completely watered down by the melted ice in your glass. “Well, like I told you, I grew up in New Mexico on a horse ranch. It was me, my parents, and my little brother,” you start to explain. “After the outbreak happened, me and my family ended up in the Albuquerque QZ. We were there for quite some time, until there was a breach at one of the gates and the zone was overrun with infected.” You pause briefly as the memories of that night come flooding back. By now, you’ve repressed them enough that they don’t bring you to your knees the way they used to when you had been younger. “Me and my dad made it out alive, but my mom and my brother didn’t.”

Joel frowns. “Shit. M’real sorry, darlin’. I shouldn’t have asked—”

“It’s okay,” you assure him with a tiny nod. “After me and my dad made it out of the zone, we found this group of people who were heading east, trying to get to Boston. It wasn’t long before everyone started to get picked off one by one—by infected, raiders, and even slavers. Somehow, me and my dad survived all that, but we found ourselves alone again. We were starving, had no shelter, and winter was just around the corner. We honestly didn’t know what we were going to do, and even though neither of us ever said it to each other, we were both so sure we were going to die. But then Tommy and his patrol group came across us one night. Once we proved that neither of us were infected, he brought us in.”

“You’ve been through a lot,” Joel states. He never would have even guessed.

You just seemed so well put together.

“Haven’t we all?” You let out a humorless laugh.

A silence falls like a curtain over both of you, but it’s comfortable.

Tranquil. 

Although it had been a warmer night, it was now much later into the evening, and a chilly breeze whips its way through the settlement, whisking its cool and crisp fingers through your hair. It causes the white daisy you’d been wearing to fall, and the flower flutters to the ground, landing right in between Joel’s boots. Without giving it a second thought, he reaches down and picks it up, being careful as he gingerly dusts the dirt off of the delicate petals. He turns to you, tucking the flower back behind your ear. As his hand falls away from you, his index finger accidentally grazes the soft skin of your cheek, and every part of him floods with the burning desire to feel more of you.

“M’sorry ‘bout that,” he mumbles sheepishly.

“It’s quite alright,” you say—and you mean it. You can’t even remember the last time someone’s touch set you on fire like this. You’d been feeling cold and empty and numb for so long, and while all of the things that Joel’s making you feel had become almost foreign to you, they’re starting to reignite that spark of life inside of you that you thought you’d lost a long time ago.

From the inside of the barn, you and Joel hear the band begin to play their cover of Can’t Help Falling in Love. 

“Elvis, huh?” Joel muses with a hum. He sounds impressed.

You’re not sure if all the alcohol you’d been consuming throughout the evening has only now just decided to kick into full gear in your system or whether you really do just lack any kind of common sense, but you find yourself looking up at him shyly through your eyelashes. “How about another dance?”

His lips part slightly in surprise. “To this song?”

Every inch of your skin burns hot with embarrassment and your fingers curl tighter around your glass. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. It’s just that I really love to dance,” you sputter out nervously, wishing you had kept your mouth shut. You only dig yourself further into the hole as you continue to ramble. “Luke doesn’t like to dance. He never wants to dance with me—”

That’s all Joel had needed to hear.

He reaches for your glass, prying it out of your grasp. He sets it down on top of the fence and holds his hand out to you. “I’ll dance with you, darlin’.”

Looking up at him in surprise, you accept and place your hand in his. His other hand finds your waist and the two of you begin swaying along to the music—a smile that could light up the entire town breaks out across your face. 

Joel didn’t know Luke, but he couldn’t fathom how the man you were married to wouldn’t do just about anything to see that smile.

“Wait, I thought you couldn’t dance,” you tease, noticing that he’s leading you.

Flashing you a cocky grin, he shrugs. “Guess the kid was right. I ain’t so bad for fifty six with creakin’ knees.”

Remembering Ellie’s words from earlier, you throw your head back and laugh.

His stomach turns, twisting in a tangle of desire and nerves.

You’re married.

But that does nothing to stop the want, the need. 

For either of you.

Being in his arms, it’s wrong.

It’s more than an innocent dance—it’s the beginning of something that’s bound to lead to nothing but trouble and you both know it.

Joel continues to lead you and begins singing along to the familiar lyrics, quietly, but just loud enough for you to hear the sultry richness of his voice. “Like a river flows, surely to the sea,” he sings, subconsciously giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “Darlin’ so it goes, some things are meant to be.”

Impressed, you raise an eyebrow at him. “You’ve got a nice voice, Joel.”

“Y’think so?”

You nod. “I do. What, were you a singer in your first life or something?”

“Close.”

“Really? What did you do?”

“I was a contractor,” Joel replies, grinning as he elicits another sweet laugh from you. “Owned my own construction business with Tommy. I did enjoy singin’ though—and playin’ the guitar too. But it was a hobby more than anythin’ since I don’t think music would’ve paid the bills.”

You smile up at him. “Oh, well now you’re going to have to play the guitar for me sometime. Maybe even treat me to a whole song?”

“I still owe Ellie a song,” he remembers, shaking his head. “But I don’t have a guitar, so it gets me out of it.”

“Well then, we’re going to have to find you one and when we do, you’ll have to play something for us,” you tell him. “Deal?”

“Deal.” Joel agrees without thinking. He starts singing along to the lyrics again. “Take my hand, take my whole life too—” 

“But I can’t help falling in love with you.” You try not to laugh again at the shock on his face as you finished the lyric for him.

“Hey now, you’ve got a real nice voice yourself, darlin’.”

Darlin’. 

You shouldn’t let him call you that.

Out of respect for your husband, you should tell him it’s not okay. None of this is okay.

But it is okay. 

“Oh, now you’re just trying to flatter me, Miller,” you accuse him, playfully. 

The song ends and neither of you make a move to let go of one another.

Joel’s eyes fall to your pretty, plush lips and it takes every ounce of strength he has inside of him not to lean down and press his own lips against them.

Finally, he forces himself to let you go and takes a step backward, clearing his throat. “I should, uh—I should go and find Ellie so I can get her home. S’gettin’ kinda late.”

You nod, your heart slamming painfully against your sternum. “Of course,” you say, slightly breathless. “I’ll come along with you so I can say goodnight to her.”

As the two of you make your way around the barn and back towards the entrance, Joel sees a tall, slender man with short dark hair approaching. He’d called out your name and something inside Joel’s mind just clicks together—he knows exactly who the man is before you’ve even had a chance to open your mouth and say his name.

“Luke?” Stopping abruptly in your tracks, you stiffen and squeak out his name. “What—what are you doing here?”

“There you are, honey.” He comes up to you and immediately takes your arm, pulling you from Joel’s side and over to his. “Tommy told me you might be out here. I was just coming to look for you.”

It takes thirty seconds for Joel to size him up. Luke’s younger than himself, definitely closer in age to Tommy—somewhere around his mid to late forties. He’s a lot more clean cut than most of the other rugged men in the commune with his short, neatly kept dark hair and a clean shaven face. Though he’s on the thinner side, he’s in decent shape, but Joel’s wider, broader and far, far more intimidating.

“What are you doing here?” you ask again.

“Now, is that really how a loving wife should greet her husband?” Luke laughs, pulling you even closer into his side. 

Joel isn’t all too fond of the way he’s holding you. 

He’s rough, harsh.

“I decided to come and check it out. See what all the fuss is about,” Luke says. He glances at Joel, his green eyes giving him a once over—sizing him up, just like Joel had done to him. “Don’t be rude, honey. Aren’t you going to introduce me to your new friend here?”

You speak softly, almost too softly.

“Luke, this is Joel Miller.”

“Ah. You’re Tommy’s brother, right?”

Joel tries not to sound too curt, but fails. “That’s right.”

“Joel, this is Luke.” You can’t even look him in the eye as you introduce your spouse. “He’s my husband.”

Luke extends a courteous hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Joel.” His other hand finds and takes yours. “I do hope that my wife here hasn’t been bothering you tonight. She can be quite the little chatterbox. Makes me wish she came with a mute button sometimes.”

Joel’s dark eyes briefly flit to Luke’s hand holding yours, taking note of the way he’s gripping it so tightly that his knuckles had gone white. Between that and the comment he’d just made about you, Joel had every fucking desire to connect his fist to the side of Luke’s face.

“Luke, please,” you whisper, throwing him a tiny glare. 

“Oh come on now, honey. Where did your sense of humor go? You know I’m only joking,” Luke states, squeezing your hand a little harder, causing you to squirm.

Something tells Joel he’s not kidding around.

He’d meant what he had said.

“She hasn’t been a bother at all,” Joel speaks in your defense. “Actually, I came out here to talk to her and to thank her for bein’ so kind to my kid, Ellie. Your wife here, she’s been nothin’ but good to her since we arrived.”

“Well, as long as she wasn’t being a bother.” Luke glances down at you. “If you’ll excuse us, there’s a few people that I still need to see and say hello to inside. Come along, honey.” He glances at Joel, a strange glint in his eye as he tells him, “Welcome to Jackson, Joel.”

His jaw clenches as he watches him drag you into the barn.

Nothing about Luke sat right with him.

The way he’d spoken to you, touched you, treated you.

And then there was you.

The light had instantly left your eyes the second he’d come around. 

Something wasn’t right.

A rough hand on his shoulder startles him out of his thoughts.

“Really, Joel? Really? Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Tommy hisses, yanking him over to the side of the barn where nobody would overhear him. “What the fuck did I tell you yesterday in the mess hall?”

“The hell are you fuckin’ talkin’ ‘bout?”

His brother glares at him. “I know that you ain’t as fuckin’ dumb as you look, Joel. What the fuck were you doin’ out here alone with her? Huh?”

Joel purses his lips together tightly in silence.

What had he seen?

Having read his mind, Tommy shoves his shoulder. “You were dancin’ with her you fuckin’ asshole? Did you fuckin’ forget that she’s a married woman?”

Joel rolls his eyes at him and aggressively shoves his hand off of his shoulder. “We were just dancin’ together, alright? Ain’t like we were makin’ out, Tommy. Can you fuckin’ relax?”

“I don’t give a fuck, Joel! If I saw any man that wasn’t me dancin’ with Maria like that, I’d be fuckin’ pissed. I’d kick his fuckin’ ass,” he spits. “Her husband just showed up to the goddamn party. You’re fuckin’ lucky that it was me who saw you out there with her and not him. What if he’d seen you two? Then what?”

“Christ, Tommy. Relax,” Joel tries again to calm him. “It was just a dance, alright? It was nothin’ more than that. Okay?”

“You listen to me and you listen to me good, ‘cause I ain’t fuckin’ gonna say it again, big brother. Don’t go gettin’ any ideas ‘bout her. I don’t need you to go around stirrin’ up any kind of trouble,” Tommy says, his voice firm. “We can’t have that kinda shit here. Maria won’t tolerate it, and y’know what, I won’t either. Don’t fuckin’ cause problems. Got it?”

“Didn’t plan on it,” Joel mutters, bitterly.

Tommy narrows his eyes at him.

“Just fuckin’ watch yourself, Joel,” he warns. “I fuckin’ mean it.”

[waokevale]

The Overlapped AU [Aka Superhumans disguisted as Dinner Theater workers]

The Owners

The Managers (Engineer & the HR person)

The Waiters

The Security

The Performers (Wes is mostly on cleaning duty though)

The Kitchen staff (the others are usually tasked to help, though very few are actually trusted at all times to be there)

The Bartender and the Host

The Dishwashers

The Clerk & The Supplier

So this AU came to me upon a dream, and I just had to make it real...

The synopsis below:

The event of April 17th 1906 does happen, however instead of Charlie and Maxwell being kidnapped into the Constant, the Constant overlaps with the real world and spreads itself onto Earth.

Charlie and Maxwell in the process become corrupted and have to hide away temporarily. Both of them soon began to hear strange voices, source of which neither is quite sure, telling them, compelling them to hide the corruption's effect from the publicity, for the time being.

They come to a mutual realization they have to fix this mess somehow and hunt down any and all corrupted by the tome, by any means necessary.

(Maxwell still has codex umbra, but it is sealed shut for the time being until he's sure it won't spread more if Their influence. )

But the corruption didn't just appear out of nowhere, it's been leaking way long before Maxwell found the Codex, if to a less prominent extent.

Thus, in few years passing, they form a Dinner Theater, a rather inconspicuous establishment from the first glance. Very quickly they began "hiring" employees, which in reality means tracking down and blackmailing those who have been corrupted but not fully lost themselves to its effects, in order to hunt those who had.

Winona was against the idea at first, as she found out. But seeing the effects of corruption first hand, she quickly had a change of heart and integrated herself into Charlie's new environment.

Eventually they gathered a rather generous amount of people. Once a person's proven to be trustworthy to a point, they're give higher positions in the company.

However those who aren't, are likely to be shunned or "fired" which...you could probably guess what that means.

Many of these people gradually come to terms with the reality of their situation and accept their newfound purpose, being thankful that at least they still have a roof over their head and a warm meal, instead of being viewed as monsters or outcasts to the greater society.

(Wilson though, can't quite accept this notion. He keeps claiming that "this is just a big misunderstanding, I'm just a normal guy!" Yet the truth could be far from it.)

When Maxwell and Charlie hear of the danger looming, they immediately inform their "staff" of the matter. Those who are more experienced in combat come along to face whatever opponent may cross them, while those who aren't, stay behind, to be an additional aid or a medic in case the battle gets too intense.

Whenever any suspicion arises in the town about the shady business going on in that particular building, the two owners alongside their employees practically gaslight anyone and everyone into believing they're but the most regular entertainment center.

The characters who have either willingly or unwillingly lost their humanity, mostly in the physical sense, are given special devices constructed of Thulecite and bits of nightmare fuel (made by Winona, Wicker and the main two), which effectively hide away their true identity, or surpress the effects of their ailment.

There's also a few other people important to this story, especially the One, which even Charlie and Maxwell refer to as "The Boss", though what many most recent hires don't know, is that there's someone who's in a position much higher than the owners themselves, controlling their every move.

Correlating to that, another person, or rather, a set of people per se, working for a much different cause. Though most of them are "people" in only a visual sense of the word.

And while, there might be someone inside the well-known around town diner, who just might be more than what appears on the surface, literally and metaphorically this time.

__________

If you're interested to learn more about this AU, do let me know. If you have any questions, I'm happy to hear and answer them!

[yanderestarangel]

𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 | 𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑!𝐁𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐗 𝐅𝐓𝐌 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

ღ ୭·࣭࣪̇˖⸺ prompt used ღ ୭·࣭࣪̇˖

TW: daddykink,sizekink, blowjob, v!sex, afab anatomy, sex without a condom, porn plot, smut, dirty talk, ftm reader, record!sex, praise, hard!dom bi han, himbo!reader pornstar!reader, pornstar!bihan, possessive!sex.

Bi Han might be an elegant and polite man outside the confines of your home, but the truth was that with you he was practically a wild animal ⸺ you awakened a side of the Grand Master that not even he knew was possible... And This led to the two of you opening a porn channel, mainly to satisfy the man's insane desire to record every beautiful and lascivious reaction coming from you, for him that was art in its purest form, however, he was also a proud man, especially after seeing you receiving emails to participate in other channels in PH.

He swallowed hard as he read each line of the text of a probable partnership with another porn actor, he knew that that person would not and could not touch you... But your boyfriend was also a jealous man, very jealous, so for everyone's sake his problems he decided to fuck you like you've never fucked before and record it, turning you into a dumb and beautiful himbo - full with his cum leaking from all your holes -

He was more rude that day, which led you to ask if he was jealous of you, it was obvious that you had seen the email, making your boyfriend just lock the bedroom door and take the professional camera, his hands were shaking slightly as he adjusted the camera settings. Bi Han growled, taking off his remaining clothes except his boxers, which were transparent enough to give a clear view of his throbbing dick. His erection strained against the fabric as he approached you slowly, hands resting on his waist

"-Of course, silly boy," he laughs darkly. "-I'm not just jealous..." he whispered harshly, reaching down and grabbing your hips firmly, pulling you closer until your bodies pressed together intimately; "-I'm possessive... you belong to me, now on your knees, I need to see your mouth worshiping my cock angel face" he positioned himself over your face, the grand master took the throbbing cock out of boxer briefs, his member hit your face quickly, aligning his member with your wet lips before slowly moving forward until his tip lightly brushed against them.

The heat emanating from his shaft singed the sensitive flesh around your mouth, causing involuntary moans to escape your throat as you took inch by inch of the tall man ⸺Bi Han moaned deeply, fighting the urge to thrust his hips forward and let you take more of him into your eager mouth. Instead, he held his ground, relishing the feeling of your warm, wet tongue circling around the head of his cock, teasingly tracing its length before finally swallowing half of it between those plump lips.

His member throbbed violently inside your mouth, leaving a trail of saliva spread across your chin. "-You look so pretty on your knees worshiping me, where you're supposed to be" He moaned, his harsh tone reverberating throughout your body. Despite the coldness in his voice, there was an underlying hunger that made it impossible for anyone other than Bi Han to ignore it – a primal need fueled by desire burning brightly within him.

"-That's mine... You're all mine, my boy." He murmured harshly, gripping your hair firmly and using it as leverage to control your movements, he began to pound harder into your tight mouth, face flushed crimson with lust. His grip on your hair tightened until it hurt but also fueled another wave of pleasure coursing through him. Meanwhile, you could feel the warmth emanating from his crotch growing more intense, almost burning you alive...

"-That's it, darling... Oh fuck- suck daddy's cock like the filthy whore I know you are." He ordered coldly, but his heartbeat quickened with his obedience, while fat tears fell from your eyes, the cold metal of the camera pressed against your cheek, recording every moan and whimper.

"-Not so hard now are you little one? Crying already like the dumb little baby you are." His cock throbbed violently inside you, filling every corner of your throat with each powerful thrust. "-Good boy", he praises between labored breaths. "-So obedient... just like I knew you would be."

With an unexpected roar, it came out of his mouth abruptly, Bi Han smiled widely, admiring the sight of your dampened hair. He placed both hands on your waist again, lifting you so that you were on your toes, with your legs spread wide like a porn star ready for action should be ⸺ he watched your wetness glisten in the light of the camera, his dick writhing violently in anticipation.

"-Look at that perfect pussy," He moaned deeply, leaning in to capture your reaction on video. "-Now open your legs, slut," He says roughly, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. His breath fanned over your sensitive skin, raising goosebumps as it tickled lightly.

"-Let daddy claim what's rightfully mine." Bi Han positioned himself between your spread legs once more, his thick tip brushing against your entrance teasingly before pushing inside you slowly but relentlessly. Your tight cunt of him clenched around him tightly, milking him mercilessly as if seeking more—each inch of his length of him disappeared inside you, filling you up completely. There was a mix of pain and pleasure etched on your features; nevertheless, they only served to further fuel his hunger.

"-You were made to take my dick, to be fucked by me and only me, you like being used, don't you? No one else can have you like that." He continued to capture every groan, and whimper escaping from your lips—capturing every inch of your submission, the way his body arched in response, a proof to everyone and especially to the grand master, that you were his, and always would be, he forced you to look at the recording light on the lens, he squeezed your face even tighter, forcing you to look directly at the camera while he pushed you relentlessly.

"-Do you think they can satisfy you like I can? Do you think they know how to make you scream and beg for more?" He whimpered hoarsely, his breath hot against your ear. "-No one knows your body like I do, you're so small... F-Fuck boy! I could break you in half, you'll never leave me right? Only I can satisfy you like this baby boy mmph- That's right, scream for me" he continued, his voice full of sadistic pleasure. "-Let the world see how you submit to me, how you are nothing more than a whore... My whore."

In response, you screamed Bi Han's name so loudly that it reverberated throughout the room—your voice broke mid-scream due to the intensity of your pleasure and submission. It felt shivers down his spine hearing those words spoken aloud; as you looked at the camera, seeing your reflection, your mascara smudged your face, the lip gloss you used before was already completely lost, especially after the violet blowjob you gave Bi Han, leaving your throat sore you were a crying mess, a beautiful sight, your quivering pussy squeezing him only fueled his horny, bringing him closer to his own release.

"-That's my good boy... I'll never let any man touch you, you're just mine, fuck yes... fucking hell..." He groaned, his fingers digging into your hips for support as he fucked you like there was no tomorrow.

His pace picks up gradually, each brutal thrust harder than the previous one. His balls slaps against your clit with each powerful thrust, sending waves of intense pleasure coursing through your body. The combined sensations overwhelm you; pain melding seamlessly into pure bliss as Bi Han continues his savage assault on your tight hole.

"-Take every single drop of my seed little slut... Mmph-... I'm c-cuming- Oh fuck- Take it my boy-" As he nears climax, Bi Han grunted lowly, holding his head still so that you wouldn't miss out on seeing him lose control. You can see the veins bulging on his forehead, face contorted into a mask of animalistic lust.

Suddenly, he shouts out loudly, filling your pussy completely this time around—his hot seed spurting forth like a fountain, coating your insides entirely, his orgasm was unlike anything you had ever experienced, shattering your mind, as you trembled on his pulsing shaft .

Panting heavily, he pulled out of your spent pussy, his erection twitched slightly at the sight of his cum leaking from your opening—a clear testament to his dominance over you. He wraps an arm around your waist protectively, helping steady you on unsteady legs.

"-You're just mine, my pretty boy." With that confession made, Bi Han pulls out slowly but firmly, ensuring every last drop of his seed remained within you. He looks into the camera one last time before turning it off—a possessive grin plays on his lips when he thinks about all those who would watch your intimate moments later.

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Blood Ties Chapter 7

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore, vomiting, minor injury, confirmation of minor canonical character death

Moodboard by @dannyo000 💙

The silence inside the truck was so uncomfortable that it teetered on the border of unbearable. Daryl hadn’t spoken a single word, not even when the caravan stopped to discuss forthcoming plans and you were invited to join. He didn’t have to speak. The intense glare that could have burned a hole through Rick’s head said everything his mouth didn’t.

You noticed Jacqui’s absence at once. There was an ache in your chest at her loss. She had been kind to you the few times you had interacted. You didn’t need an explanation. She had perished at the CDC. Whether or not it had been at Jenner’s hand was irrelevant. It had been his intent to trap you all there. In the end, it would still be blood on the doctor’s hands. 

“So, we’re all in agreement? Fort Benning?” The former sheriff met the eyes of everyone as they nodded. “Alright, that’s settled. I think we need to discuss our means of travel. We’ll burn a helluva lot of fuel taking so many vehicles. Any suggestions?”

Looks were exchanged, but Dale spoke up first. “I know the RV is by far the worst on the fuel but it does provide space and a means of shelter beyond what the others do. I’m probably biased but there it is.”

“No, I think as long as we can keep the RV running, it should stay.” Lori agreed with a nod and a hand on the older man’s shoulder. 

“Alright, okay.” Rick continued. “That still leaves four others.”

“We can ditch the van. Ride in the RV.” T-Dog offered quickly. 

“I can lose the Jeep and ride with you, Lori, and Carl.” Shane leaned against the vehicle in question and awaited a response. Rick shook his head almost immediately. 

“We’ll take Carol and Sophia, keep the kids together. You can go in the RV.” 

The first emotion that passed over the other officer’s face was sour, you noticed, but swiftly turned into a compliant smile and nod. You narrowed your eyes but held your tongue. Not your circus, not your monkeys.

“M’a take the bike.” Daryl stated matter-of-factly, not even waiting for input before he dropped the tailgate of the truck. “Ya help me with this?” He waved a hand toward the truck bed with a glance at T-Dog.

“That’s good, Daryl. Real good. Lori, Carol, the kids, and I in the Cherokee. Daryl and Y/N on the bike. The rest in–”

“Just me.” The redneck interjected, not looking away from the task of unloading the bike. You didn’t need confirmation to know what he meant. 

“What?” Rick asked anyway.

“She can ride in the RV.” Daryl huffed. Rick raised his eyebrows but ended with shrugging a shoulder and moving on. 

You, however, continued staring at the archer. It wasn’t public knowledge that the baby was Daryl’s. Amidst the panic and confusion at the CDC, no one took notice of the exchanges between the two of you. You assumed he’d like to keep it that way. Assumptions were all you had to go on at the moment because the bastard was refusing to speak to you! Still, if he continued with the very obvious disdain toward you, he was going to give himself away.

“Y/N?”

“Huh?” You turned to find all other eyes on you. 

“Rick was asking if you’re okay being in the RV.” Lori was tilting her head, watching you with a look you didn’t really like. “Oh. Yeah, I’m fine wherever you want me.”

“Probably be more comfortable there.” Carol smiled that gentle smile of hers. “At some point, we’re gonna have to address the elephant in the room.” Shane’s tone was condescending. You curled your lip when he shifted to cross his arms and spit off to the side. His eyes remained on you, flickering down to your stomach and back up. You were starting to get the feeling he didn’t like you much.

Lucky for him, the feeling was mutual. “We’ve got time.” Lori interjected before you could even open your mouth. “One thing at a time. We need to find somewhere safe to stay first. Get off the road.” “She’s right.” Rick started grabbing the fuel cans and hoses to siphon the gas from the vehicles that were being left behind. The rest of the group scattered to move things and automobiles around, leaving you and Shane in a staring match. You wanted to smirk when he looked away first, granting you one last glance before disappearing around the RV.

“Anything I can do to help?” You walked up to the door of the RV as Dale stepped down. He gave you a sweet smile and traipsed out of your way, motioning to the inside. 

“You don’t need to be pulling and tugging at things. You just go on inside.” 

You snorted. “I’m pregnant, not an invalid. I can help.”

The older man was obviously torn but with a glance toward Andrea, he finally relented. Another story there, you supposed. “Maybe move some of the lighter bags and supplies from the other cars. They may have beat you to it, but that’s really all I know of that would be okay for you.” 

“Okay, I’ll check with Lori.” You smiled at him before he went about with whatever he was doing in preparation to leave. You really did appreciate his concern but you were new to the group. You had to show them that you could be an asset. It wouldn’t do for you to end up on your own with a baby on the way. You made it to the back corner of the RV before you felt eyes searing into the back of your head. Maybe Shane had seen the exchange with Dale. Glancing over your shoulder, you locked eyes with Daryl. This time, it was you who looked away first.

You had chosen to all but hide in the back of the RV, on the bed with a book that Dale had let you borrow. You weren’t really reading as much as you were listening to the exchanges between Andrea and Shane. He was showing her about maintaining a gun. When she mentioned her father, you felt a twinge of pain in your chest. 

The nausea had returned with a vengeance. Sips of water, you could handle with enough time in between. The constant rolling of your gut had you turning away from anything substantial. You knew you should eat. You needed to eat. Maybe when the next stop was made, you could ask about some crackers or something. 

Lost in your head, it wasn’t until you heard Dale’s distressed exclamation that you actually looked up, leaning out to be able to see what was going on from your hovel in the back room. 

“Oh jeez. Aw no. See a way through?” 

You tossed the book to the foot of the bed and swung your legs over the edge to get to your feet. Glenn was suggesting to turn around for a bypass but Dale quickly shot down the idea. 

“We can’t spare the fuel.”

“Jesus.” You whispered when you got your first glimpse of the disastrous cluster of cars and debris. As the RV idled, there was a pop and a white cloud drifted up in front of the windshield. “Shit.” You followed the others out the door, taking in the scene when you heard Daryl’s bike. The hunter weaved through the maze of vehicles and stopped in front of the RV. 

The others discussed options, a conversation you purposefully avoided. They were including you but having a say in things was a totally different matter. You didn’t feel like you were there yet. 

“There’s a whole bunch’a stuff we can find.” Daryl was right. The owners of the abandoned cars didn’t need the things they’d left behind in their panic. Except—not all of them had left. You could clearly see a corpse in the passenger side of a sedan. Was it a walker? Couldn’t be. It would have responded to the noise. 

“This is a graveyard. I don’t know how I feel about this.”

“I’m with Lori. It feels like—grave robbing.” While Lori’s comment went ignored, yours earned a look from Shane that made your skin crawl. He eventually sneered before his expression smoothed out and he gave the order for everyone to go searching. 

You stood still, biting your lip in hesitation. The thought of someone taking your father’s belongings from the camp just because he was dead made you see red. How could you possibly go along with this?

Maybe you could stay behind in the RV. Andrea was there, so it shouldn’t be a problem if—

“Go on.” Daryl gave you a shove you would almost define as gentle. It was the first time he had spoken to you since the CDC. You wanted to retort with something snarky, but what would that do other than piss him off more than he already was. “Grab anythin’ ya think could be useful.”

“Okay.” You kept your tone soft, picking up your pace to catch up to him when he brushed past. “Can we talk?” You really did want to smooth things over. You told yourself that the connection with Daryl was solely physical, but now you’d be raising a child together in an apocalypse. That would definitely be easier if you could communicate on some level at least. 

He never missed a step when he glanced at you while maneuvering between the automobiles. He’d peek in the windows of some but continued further out, probably to keep everyone else closer to your own cars. 

“Nah.” He finally glowered, walking backwards away from you a few steps before turning around and disappearing behind a cargo van. 

Sighing heavily, you took stock of your surroundings. There was no point in following after him. You didn’t have the energy anyway. The nausea was worsening and there was little to no water left in the RV. You allowed for a disgruntled breath, pressed a palm to your belly, and opened the driver door of the nearest car. The sooner everyone got what they needed, the better. 

The smell of the decaying corpse was horrific and forced you to pull things out with one hand while the other pressed over your mouth and nose. Luckily there wasn’t much more than a suitcase that held some men’s clothing. You weren’t sure what the men could use so you left what was there, with the exception of one shirt. Strategically ripping, you fashioned a cover to tie around your face. You’d work faster with both hands. 

After several minutes, you had found a damn treasure trove, including a beautiful knife in a holster that you had taken the liberty of securing around your thigh. It wasn’t a firearm but it was better than nothing. 

You were climbing backwards out of the backseat of a little hatchback when you took a break to steady yourself. You were drenched in sweat and felt a little dizzy. Maybe it was time to gather your findings and go back to the others for a break. You had gone pretty far ahead. 

The silence on the roadway was unnerving. You’d give almost anything for bumper to bumper traffic with an orchestra of angry shouts and sounding horns; for everything to go back like it was. You’d be in the woods at that time of day, tracking rabbits or squirrels. It didn’t take much to feed just you and your father. You didn’t have a smokehouse, so smaller game was ideal. You could still see his proud beam when you’d walk through the door. 

Those days were gone now. 

Back at your pile of finds, it occurred to you that you couldn’t carry it all back alone. Loath as you were to admit it, Daryl had been the closest. You pulled down your makeshift mask with a groan, but there was no other option unless you wanted to walk all the way back to the RV just to bring back help. They would likely demand you stayed put, but you didn’t want them to see you as incapable. Daryl was already annoyed with you, so requesting his assistance was your best bet. 

Your steps were dragging by the time you made it to the cargo van where he had so casually rebuffed your request. Barely around the rear bumper, your stomach decided to rebel. You lurched forward with a repulsive retching sound, stomach muscles cramping from the force of the heaves. Your stomach was empty. Rancid acid and bile burned your throat, the intensity of your gagging ensuring you could be heard all the way at the RV. 

Your stomach still contracted uncomfortably, excess saliva gathering in your mouth. You had just managed to wipe away any remnants on the sleeve of your flannel when a hand clamped down around your jaw. Fight or flight activated, you scrambled for the knife at your thigh, managing a single swipe before a hand caught your wrist. 

“Quiet, goddamnit!” Daryl hissed faintly against your ear. He was pulling you toward the back of the van and hastily shoving you inside before climbing in himself. You loured at him and sheathed your weapon while he scrupulously pulled the doors closed. 

“What—” His hand bore down over your mouth a second time, a finger raised to his lips. You only managed an indignant huff before something struck the side of the van with a thud. Vibrant orbs widened with realization that he had just saved your ass from what sounded like a sizable number of walkers. 

Daryl haltingly lowered his hand as if you’d yell at him despite the threat lurking just outside. The man was sweaty and panting, as if he’d been running. Giving him  once over you noticed the carmine liquid slowly saturating his shirt just above his hip. 

Your movements were slow and deliberate to ensure silence. He didn’t seem to notice you until you were almost next to him, resulting in him reeling back with a vexed expression. 

“You’re hurt.” You mouthed, reaching behind your head to untie the ripped section of fabric you had used as a mask. When you extended it toward the wound, he swatted at your hand. You couldn’t risk speaking so the two of you engaged in an intense staring contest. The hunter finally relented with a shake of his head, deeming alertness toward the flock of undead to be priority. You smirked and pressed the wadded strip against the injury. 

He let out a grunt but stayed still, eyes remaining on the doors. It didn’t take long for the bleeding to let up, giving you a chance to peel back one side of the slice in his shirt. The wound was superficial, wouldn’t need stitches, but it was abundantly clear that you had nicked him when he grabbed you. You felt your stomach drop. Or maybe that was just the nausea. 

“Think they moved on.” Daryl quietly informed you. Oblivious to your revelation, he opened one door, barely wide enough to see outside. “We can prolly head back to the—what?” He stopped short, your apologetic expression giving him pause. 

“I didn’t know it was you. I didn’t mean to—”

The hunter rolled his eyes. “S’fine. Won’t kill me.”

While he was quick to dismiss the event, you still felt terrible. It could have been so much worse. The whole thing made your desire to talk things out with him that much more crucial. “Daryl, can you just listen to me for a second?”

There was the briefest of moments when you thought he was going to acquiesce. There was something more than anger in the way he looked at you. Then he was shaking his head. “We gotta get back. Check in with ev’ryone.” You grabbed his arm with both hands when he shifted to climb out. “M’serious. I ain’t doin’ this.”

“I get that you’re angry—with me.” You swallowed hard against the strange taste in your mouth, ignoring the protests of your inexorable stomach. “You have every right to be.” Daryl growled and snatched his arm away. He climbed out and stood just outside the door, clearly not confident enough with the degree of safety to leave you behind. 

“Drop it, Y/N.” He warned. 

You had climbed out and blocked his path, hands hovering in front of his chest. “The least you can let me do is—” It happened just as suddenly as before. You had no time to react. You could only clutch your abdomen and pitch forward, vomiting up what little bile that had accumulated since the last episode. All over his left boot. “—apologize.” 

If it had been any other situation, the deadpan examination Daryl was currently giving his footwear would have been arguably hilarious. 

“I’m, uh, sorry about that too.”

His eyes moved up to glare at you from beneath his lashes. You didn’t think a mess on his boot would be enough to really set off a man who spent the majority of his time identifying—and very often stepping in—animal waste. This was just the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. He took a step toward you. Though you didn’t think he’d hurt you, even for reasons beyond the baby, you couldn’t say you knew him well enough to bank on that theory. Therefore, you took a step back. 

“Listen, woman, just ‘cause ya got my kid inside ya don’t mean I hafta—” He cut off suddenly, angling his head in a way that was familiar to you. You did the same thing while hunting; listening for sounds to indicate an animal was nearby. 

“What is it?” 

He shushed you harshly. When you focused on the sounds around you rather than the whirlwind of thoughts in your own head, you could hear it too. 

Your blood ran cold with dread. 

“Sophia! Lori, there’s two walkers after my baby!”