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1nthedarknessofthenight · 9 months ago

Text

﴾ i drink your blood and i eat your skin, part six.

pairing: hwang hyunjin x f!reader

genre: vampire au

word count: 7,1k

warnings: brief smoking ⋆ insecurities

masterlist

playlist

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When the man with the face of an angel escorted you back to ‘your’ room, body almost giving up at the sight of the soft looking bed, you were stopped just before you could slam the big heavy door into his face. The blonde spoke up, for a moment shocking you by his deep voice that almost made your whole body vibrate from the low octive. He told you that someone needs to clean up your wounds for your own well being and also because your sweet blood could be smelled by all the vampires in the house. You however insisted to clean them yourself, not wanting anyone touching you even under this circumstances. You had enough.

With a short nod, he also told you there will be some medication for you on the bed while you will be taking a bath. At that you realized how much you smelled and the mud that started to dry on your body made you all itchy and uncomfortable. You sheepishly told Felix about having no clue how to filled the bath and he without any hesitation went to do it for you. He showed a small foset where a bucket will be filled with hot water, saying that this was one of the original historical bathrooms so it would take a little while to fill the bath. However him having an inhuman strength, he could lift two big buckets at the same time with zero effort.

The blonde made you feel a little more at ease, safe — more than your so called soulmate. It could be because of his blinding smile and twinkling eyes everytime he turned to look at you when you asked him something. He became excited when your eyes flicker to the multiple liquid bath soaps, explaining how each one of them smelled like, recommending the cherry one with tones of vanilla and all you could do was nod silently to not offend him or something.

When he finished getting the bath ready for you, he left with a small wave, shutting the door behind him and you immediately going to lock it after him. You were finally felt alone for a while. Taking off the torn nightgown and your underwear, you stepped carefully into the hot bath. You immediately hissed in pain as the warm water touched your injuries but you sucked it up.

You bathed for maybe too long, as your fingers become wrinkly, hair already half dried and water now cold and dirty. You poured some of the water left in the bucket over you, washing any residue of what happened before. You dried yourself carefully, hissing every time you touch one of those scratches on your skin. They were now red and irritated, you scold yourself quietly for being in the water too long.

Looking around the room, you couldn’t find anything to cover yourself with other than the now soaked towel. So you unlocked the door, creaking it open to firstly have a look around, you really don’t need someone surprising you in this state. A shiver went down your spine immediately from how cold the bedroom was compared to the steamed up bathroom. From where you were peaking out, you could tell you were alone, no vampire in sight thankfully. You tipped down the hardwood floor to the bed where a folded nightgown was waiting for you with a medkit.

Couldn’t they atleast give you something more warm? You sighed, letting your towel fall to the ground and quickly grasping the nightgown to put it on, feeling uncomfortable standing naked in this foreign bedroom any longer than a second. As you pulled it over your head, you marveled over the beautiful fabric that had a subtle pink hue to it, decorated with ruffles and soft lace. Your eyes then fell down to the bed again, almost missing a very noticeable piece of clothing there.

You grabbed it, stretching the little piece of fabric in between your fingers. Looking down at the tag, you immediately flushed bright red. How do they — how does he know your underwear size? You didn’t know if you should blush more that a very beautiful man gifted you such a scandalous piece of clothing or be absolutely disgusted. Maybe both. It match the nightgown, white but with sheer layer of soft pink at the edges. It was pretty but a little skimpy and for your taste inappropriate.

‘Who dressed you?’ You hoped that it wasn’t him. You hope even more that his friend didn’t brought you this piece of clothing to the room. It was already embarrassing enough as you slowly put it on, cringing that it literally fit perfectly over your hips but it is definitely better than a dirty pair of underwear. You also noticed a pair of fuzzy socks on the bed to keep your hurt and cold feet warm.

You for a moment were just looking at yourself in the big mirror placed on the wall, looking how the piece of clothing fit you. You even turned around to get a glimpse of how it hugged your bottom quite nice, you groaned mentally. You were frustrated. To distract yourself, you finally decided to clean your wounds. You wondered for a second what to do with each one of those scratches on your body, praying to God for the best possible outcome as you now looked like a walking corpse. You realized that it wouldn’t be that weird considering there were literally multiple of walking corpses all around the house.

The alcohol burned like hell. Your feet and hands were the worst places but after some time you didn’t feel a thing.

Did you do the right thing?

What if you only hurt him in the process? You know how it feels to be rejected...

What are you even saying, you don’t even know him…

‘Do you even want to know him?’ You asked yourself. All of this was so surreal. Would it be weird to consider this whole situation romantic? A centuries old vampire devoting himself to you just like that.

But you feel like that the only reason he wants you— wants to get to know you is only because of this soulmate thing…he would never be attracted to you otherwise. He only likes you now because of this so-called bond that you yourself can’t really truly feel and see. He was charming…dangerous and it only made you want more. Is it selfish? You felt like you would be only using him. He can have everyone and still chooses you? Why are you so suddenly against being wanted? You just have a feeling that if he truly gets to know you, he would just leave like everyone else. After all this time you’re scared to open up to anyone and you don’t want to disappoint and be disappointed again.

You fell asleep to those thoughts that night, few tears escaping as you imagine that somehow this was only a dream.

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You’re so disappointed that it wasn’t…

You didn’t have energy to do anything about all of this, you wanted to go home but something held you in place.

You woke up with your eyes puffy and body sore, muscles twitching only by turning around in the bed. The bed at least made your quiet suffering a little more bearable. But it of course didn’t take much to be disturbed in your small slumber. It was morning? Maybe? You again couldn’t tell by the blinds and also you were confused that the candles placed all around the room where not burned down fully. You in your tiredness didn’t care enough to blow each and every one of them, falling into the bed, praying quietly that maybe the flames would rise up and end your suffering right there as the maids from before came running inside.

You just pretended to be asleep, watching with one of your eye slightly open as they put down a tray filled with food on a vanity. They walk around for a bit, cleaning after you in the bathroom. One of them even went to the side of the bed to see if you were awake but with your best acting skills you pretended to be asleep. Then they left quietly. You could smell the sweet pancakes even from here but you didn’t have the appetite or maybe you were just too hardheaded. Deep inside you wanted to see if anyone cared.

The day went by slowly and you didn’t even get out of your bed once. When it was somewhere around noon a maid creeped up on you, catching you awake in your thoughtlessness. She scared you half to death. She questioned you about the untouched plate, finding it still in the same place she placed it, untouched and you only in response turn away from her like a child. She didn’t questioned you further.

You for a moment fell asleep again. Your muscles being now little less sore than before. However you could feel how much your mouth was dry, turning around to just have a look and sure enough there was another meal there for you and the class of water was really calling your name. You sighed quietly, laying back down.

After a moment there was a small creak from behind her, eyes almost shooting open as someone walk in the room. Their footsteps were quiet, only the old floor gave them away. You however pretended further, finding again no energy to actually care. They stopped in the center of the room, probably looking at the untouched plate and when they suddenly spoke up, your heart jumped slightly.

“I know you’re awake.” Of course it had to be him. His voice sounded a lot more closer than you anticipated.

You still said nothing, not moving a muscle. But how could you fool him when your heart already did. You felt the bed dip behind you and it made you scootch closer to the edge. You could feel the cold radiating from him even from under your covers. Your eyes were open now, really not seeing the point of pretending further. You become nervous from how close he always gets to you, he didn’t seem to have a sense of personal space and you don’t know if you hate or like it.

“Servant told me you haven’t eaten.” He spoke again, sighing like in disappointment and only furthering it more as you were only quiet in response. “It’s not a sin to eat…”

“Says the vampire who kills for food.” You say, cringing from how your voice came out so little and fragile, coughing into the blanket. The remark made him silent and you almost wanted to be proud of yourself because of it but it faded away immediately at his next words.

“Do you really only think of me as a monster?” He almost whispers. He sounded hurt and it made feel guilty in some way. There wasn’t anything other than that, he was a monster in a sense but also a person? You don’t know. You saw him kill someone…you shivered at the memory.

You sighed softly. “I don’t know what to think…I just—just don’t know-“ You close your eyes to escape the embarrassment of not even making up a one whole sentence but the thing was you just really didn’t know. Do you want to know?

The man was silently looking at your hair that peaked out of the heavy blanket. He could see that you were wearing the nightgown he gave you. While you were taking your bath, he decided to bring you the things himself. Maybe because the idea of someone else doing it didn’t please him, even if it was his close friend or maybe it was because he wanted to escape his friends’ teasing remarks. He knew they were just happy for him, this is not something that happens often for a vampire. He felt like he won in his immortal life. He was really happy too but seeing you not embracing the same feelings…he wasn’t really sure about his anymore. Maybe it won’t be as easy as he thought…he only desired you more because of that. All of this also means that you are also wearing the other gift he gave you and it made it harder for him not to just unwrap you from your little blanket kingdom and have a look how the small fabric hugged your curves. ‘You’re such a tease, my love and you don’t even now it. Looking so innocent, lovely and cute, unaware you are poking the lion.’

“Can I have my things back?” You broke the silence, cutting into his trail of thoughts while you almost wanted to laugh for asking for permission.

He hummed. “You may…though I don’t appreciate your smoking habit, those things only do harm to your body.” He said.

“That’s why I smoke them…” You respond, nonchalantly. “They make me calm down.” You add quickly. The vampire nods at your words, sealing his mouth shut before saying anything further.

“Alright. I want you to eat something now and I am afraid, I will have to ask the severants to watch over you since you won’t listen…” He said quietly, you missing the teasing tone in his voice.

You shook your head, turning around. “No!” You said unintentionally too loudly, blushing slightly. “I don’t want them here…” You continue more quietly. You forgot how intense his gaze was. He look at you with an emotion you couldn’t quite place and you realized you were really underdressed, while looking at his elegant black shirt. You at that tried to smoothen down your wild hair, pulling the duvet closer to your face and hoping it would devour you whole.

A small smirk appears on his face, it flustered you even more. “Then join me for a dinner.” He says, you falling into his planned trap.

You didn’t know what to say to that. Too be honest you don’t think you have the guts to be with him all alone again so soon. It made your heart skip a beat. From one point of view, you didn’t want to do anything about this whole situation you got yourself into but on the other you were curious what can happen... The silence you were now putting him through made him nervous too, a little. After a moment you look up briefly too meet his striking blue eyes, regretting it immediately after as he of course stared right back.

Before you could even open your mouth to form an answer your stomach growled loudly and there was no chance that even a normal person couldn’t hear it.

Your cheeks burned from the embarrassment but he only smiles softly in amusement. “Okay, I’m quite hungry.”

His smile only widened, the small boy in him not believing that you would actually say yes. “There are clothes in the closet, I will tell someone to escort you to the dinning room.”

“Alright.”

Your opinions change rather quickly. Watching him stand up, smoothing down the unexistened wrinkles on his trousers, he left slowly, like waiting if maybe you got something more to say but you were just too distracted by his shining, soft looking hair. They looked softer than yours. You always realize too late what your actions will lead to — gosh…you don’t want to go. His whole presence made you all giddy and jumpy. You always feel like you are being analyze by him. However you are really hungry…

You will just have to suck it up again.

After he left, you went to inspect the inside of the closet he mentioned. Your legs buckled slightly for few steps and not to mention that you were now putting pressure on your still fresh wounds. Though it wasn’t as bad as yesterday, it still burnered in some places. You pass the big mirror again, momentarily gasping in horror at your messy state. Just a glimpse was enough for you, no way he just saw you like that and didn’t say anything. ‘I really can’t even lie to myself about not caring what he thinks’ In some way you wanted leave a good impression but also you didn’t want to put in so much effort.

When you opened the closet, your lips parted at the contents of it. The dresses which you are seeing right now are unbelievably stunning. Every dress has its own unique cut, skirt, color and finish you couldn’t help your hungry hands from feeling the material. In further inspection you realize some of them were designer and also…every dress looked like they would fit, fit you. You are scared about how much he knew about you. How long has he watched you for? Did he hide in every shadow? Was he always behind the uneasy feeling you got every time you were out at night or just passing by a window? As much as you were scared, you were also angry.

You picked out a long, lacy robe from the other side of the closet. You wanted nothing more than to be in your own clothes right now. It was almost like he was laying his claim on you, try to win you over. You were fond of things like this but under these circumstances you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you in something he wanted. Your fingers traced over the soft silk of the robe, if possible you wouldn’t wear even this but you would be even more uncomfortable in his presence if you wouldn’t put this on. Thankfully you were shielded by the covers because if he got a glimpse of you in this sheer nightgown you would actually die.

You sat for a moment on the bed with your body glad in the robe till you heard footsteps down the hallway, stopping right before your room. It was a maid, looking maybe the same age as you but you didn’t pay much mind to her as she mentioned for you to follow her. You were too occupied with your thoughts and also being careful not to step on your robe.

In your hurry yesterday you didn’t appreciate much the decor this mansion holds, even in your room that you now have spend reasonable time to get used to, it surprised you everytime by it’s beauty. The hallways were lit with candles mostly but also some antique looking lamps could be found on a few tables. You were curious about how old this place truly was. You passed by multiple paintings, flowers mostly and you hate every second this place left you in awe.

The maid quick steps lead you down the staircase, walking by the entrance you ran out of just hours ago. You are still contemplating if you choose to right decision for yourself. You felt trapped in here but also not at all. He…Hyunjin gave you two choices and if you come to realize you made a mistake and wanted to change your option, he would understand. Maybe your choices really mattered and you were just imagining things. Would he really let you go if you asked him to?

Your thoughts almost made you trip over the maid, her stopping at a slightly a jar door. You now don’t even know on which side of this house you were on but it really didn’t matter, it felt like a maze anyway. She opened the door for you, making you step inside with a heavy sigh, eyes immediately meeting an icy blue stare.

When the doors closed behind you, the room was filled with heavy silence. Your eyes traveled all around the room, trying to look busy even if you knew that he probably could smell your nerves from where you were standing. The room felt warm and welcoming, contrast from his cold stare that you still have to get use to. There was a lit fire place behind his figure, lighting the place in a nice orange color and as the other rooms the decor was manly in the colors of black and ruby red with golden accents. It almost felt like a fairytail, this place as whole but you couldn’t miss the obvious darkness that clouded it.

“Why are you still in these clothes?”

Her eyes traveled to his again, meeting his almost judging stare. You wrapped yourself in the robe even more, looking briefly down at yourself. “I didn’t feel like dressing up…” You explained yourself.

Hyunjin nods, still in thought before gesturing to the chair he was currently leaning on. “Please.” You slowly make your way to him as he pulled the chair out for you. You tried to ignore how nice his hands looked, wrapped around the back of the chair like that, his famous rings winking at you teasingly in the light of the fireplace and blue veins wrapping up to his forearms till the sleeves of his godforsaken shirt covered them.

Sitting down silently, holding your breath, your muscles loosened up a little at how the fire warmed up your cold skin. You watched for a second how the vampire made his way to the chair across from you. Even walking made him look so effortlessly elegant. You watched silently how his back muscles moved under his silk shirt and unknowingly to you he could see your oogling in a reflection and he couldn’t help but smirk in delight. Maybe he knew you better than you did yourself. As he turned to sit down, you everted your eyes to the table before you.

You wished that there would be maybe a little more space between you two, it felt too intimate to you. Like a date almost. You shook your head slightly at that. Your inner fight with yourself didn’t come unnoticed by the vampire, silently watching you and listening to your uneven heartbeat. He still needs some time to fully understand you and more than just by listening to your heart but your mind also.

Servants came into the room, startling you slightly. They placed plates down the table, filling the air with delicious spices. Your stomach growled at the sight, making you wrap your arms around yourself, looking up just in time to catch a small amused smile on the man’s lips. You ignored it. Just as much as you tried to ignore how he stared at you the whole time you ate. You were aware that you weren’t looking the most appealing as you ate like starved, which you were but it made you a little self conscious about how you were eating. So you slowed down a little, swallowing another delicious piece of a baked potatoes and steak that was so well seared you were almost mad about it.

You however weren’t the only one staring. Your eyes flicker to him in curiosity as he also ate with you. Few glances were shared over the course of the dinner which you were heaving, clashing of cutlery and cracking of the firewood were the only things filling the silence. It didn’t felt as awkward as you thought it would be. Maybe it was because that filling your stomach was the only thing on your mind so far but you can’t say that you weren’t impressed by…all of this — by him.

At the thought of him, he look up fully at you, it was like he could read your mind and you wouldn’t be even surprised if that would be true. “How do you like the food?” He spoke up, momentarily hypnotizing you by his lips that seemed even plumper under the candlelights.

You stopped your chewing for a moment, looking at the beautiful vase on the table, his freckle under his eye wasn’t so calming right now to look at. The light really made him look menacing. “Good…” You said, almost sounding unsure but you were only just nervous.

He smiled slightly but you could see it wasn’t so genuine as his smile fell right after. He maybe was just as same as you, maybe not human but a person. ‘God why is this so difficult.’ Yes, you maybe weren’t the best at striking a conversation right away with someone new and these circumstances made it even more difficult but you could atleast try. Yes, try…

“I thought you can’t eat human food.”

‘Jesus, is this the best you can do?’

He nodded at you words, glancing up at you from beneath his lashes. “We can, it just gives us little to no satisfaction. We can still taste the flavors but it just becomes dull right after.” Hyunjin explained to you, finding your genuine curiosity adorable. “Other than wine which taste atleast lingers on the tongue, it leaves good aftertaste.” He said, blue eyes flickering to the bottle on the table next to the bowl filled with fruit. ‘But something different would leave an even better taste at on my tongue’, he thought looking at you.

You were now the one nodding, playing silently with your robe. Your praying eyes watched him as he leaned over the table to take the mention bottle of wine. It offered you a glimpse of his chest under his shirt, his skin like alabaster and looking good enough to have as a dessert. ‘God, you were awful at pretending that this man didn’t have any effect on you.’ You are just trying to be careful, you don’t want your needs and desires to cloud your vision.

“You want some?” He asked, almost missing his question as you were again deep in thought.

“Sure, I love wine.”

He poured the dark red liquid into your cup firstly, small breathless chuckle leaving him. “I know, you were drinking it the whole night.”

Your almost pleased expression from the sight of your favorite alcohol vanished quickly as the words left his mouth. “Wait…what night?” The question left your lips quietly.

“At the club.” As he answered, he realized that he maybe should’ve kept quiet as now your heart skipped several beats at his words.

“You were there…” You said it more like a statement than a question. Maybe he really watched your every move, maybe he really was in every shadow you passed by. Your gaze met his, lips parting. “And you were watching me.”

He smirked, almost sheepishly, not seeing fully how much this little information made you feel. “Forgive me your smooth dance moves left me smitten, I simply couldn’t tear my eyes off you.” He explains himself, taking a sip of his drink. You only gave him an unimpressed look back but your flaming cheeks were now the thing gaving you away.

Taking your sip from your own glass, you gulped it almost hallway. For one because it was actually quite the most delicious wine you’ve ever had and also to clam yourself down a little. You suddenly remembered at that, something important, almost making you choke on your own drink.

“Mr. Johnson…”

Hyunjin frowns at the name. “Who?”

“What did he…before I got here I was with someone—“ You said.

He sighs soothingly at you. “They are not harmed. I can promise you that.” You sighed, relief washing over you. “Minho, only erased his memory and then followed him to be sure no one would look for you.”

That…that statement didn’t leave you that at ease. ‘God they literally kidnapped me.’ Now no one knows anything about you, no one fill look for you — “…my friend propably will.” You said at the thought of your best friend with her worried and disappointed face.

The man looks up from his plate again to give you a nonchalant look. “You mean miss Gilbert, the tall blonde?” He asked taking a bite of his too raw looking steak.

You were stunned at his words, eyes wide with worry and fright. How much does he truly knows? Damn it… “What did you do…” The question left you pleading that the answer was nothing.

Hyunjin could feel the uneasiness radiating from you and his meal suddenly tasted duller than normally as he saw your frightened expression. “Nothing to harm her, just again made her forget.”

At least some of us can…

“What did you say to her?”

His eyes reflect the light of the fireplace behind you but right now he was the one mesmerized as you shifted in your seat, the light of the fire creating a halo around your head and he felt like he died again, you being his angel that would lead him to an internal paradise. However he knew that he will never experience it. He knew that if a wooden stake would pierce his heart, there would nothing by agony and flames licking at his skin for eternity. After all of his choices there wasn’t any heaven for him left but in some way he was proven wrong. Heaven is nothing to him, now that he had you before him. Every time you spoke, every time you look upon him, every time you take a breath, every inhale and exhale, everytime you blink…you were his personal piece heaven.

Hyunjin was now the one deep in thought and only the sound of your racing heart made him wake up. He was thankful that his heart wasn’t able to beat anymore because it would certainly jump right out of his chest. “I said that you were going for a small vacation and that she and also the lovely family you babaysit for will not be worried about your sudden absence.” He answered finally your question but to his surprise your heartbeat didn’t calm down, it seemed like it was going at even faster rate.

It made you sick to your stomach. He knew everything, he knows everything! It made you lose your appetite. Does he even wants to — needs to know you? There was basically nothing left to tell him about yourself…What if? No, that night was only a dream…but something told you that he definitely knew where you live…you hope that he didn’t broke in and snoop around.

When you go to look at him, you almost jump right out of your skin as he to your surprise stood right next to you. You hate how quiet he was. Your eyes watched him closely, uneasiness seeping through you as he goes around you, to some unlit candlesticks. He, almost innocently, light the candles. When he lit the last candle, he held the still burning match between his fingers, not even flinching as it burned the tip of his fingers.

Hyunjin put down the match with his fingers not even wetting them, turning to look right at your sitting form. “Are you frightened of me?” He asked, quietly.

You wanted to laugh in disbelief, puffing out the air you didn’t even know you were holding to give an answer. “Stop asking me that when you know that—I don’t know, I don’t know you and I don’t where im I—“

“There’s no need to be scared.”

You exhale heavily again. How can he not see how this situation makes you feel?

“Don’t tell me what to feel, if you want me to get use to all of this just leave me alone for now.” You said, looking away from him. You hate how much he has already seen. He saw you angry, sad, scared, even happy but you didn’t see him. You only see his nature, his mask…maybe you want to see more, the things that are beneath his pale skin but for now? You don’t know…

He sighed through his nose, closing his eyes momentarily. “I respect that. I only wanted company, I didn’t know it would make you feel uncomfortable.”

If you didn’t know better he sounded like he was playing the victim. You were both in the wrong in some way but you certainly have more reasons to be like this. “Well, I am in an uncomfortable position as a whole…so you should’ve known better.”

He bit his lips with his sharp teeth, drawing blood for a second. “I see…” Hyunjin trails off, looking into the distance with a cold gaze. “Do you want me to leave now?”

“Yes…”

Why did it hurt saying that? Why you were feeling guilty? You had the whole right to be upset. Maybe you were really forgetting that he was also person after all, not just some creature that lived from the blood of the living. It hurt seeing someone disappointed, upset because of you but he was still only a stranger after all. A stranger that in some way, filled out a piece of your broken heart.

You watched him go, his figure distancing from you every second. You hate it. “Just —“ You start, trying to find the right words. “Just give me some time.” You pleaded, feeling slightly guilty of not fulfilling his biggest wish but he was so very impatient about this.

The vampire didn’t even stop to look like he acknowledged your words, leaving you in the room with now food cold and your skin burning from the flames of the fireplace.

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You had a sleepless night after the dinner, basically like every other night at this point. When you woke up the next day, turning around in the awfully nice bed, your puffy eyes fell to the bedside table where very known things were placed. At least he kept this promise…you ignored the fact that he probably put these here when you were sleeping. You grabbed your cigarettes with your lighter but as you went to take your phone you realized it wasn’t even there in the first place. You know for a fact that you had it with you, so he didn’t give it to you for a reason. You didn’t even think about calling the police or anyone like that in the first place after seeing that there wasn’t any true danger for you and it’s not like someone was powerful enough to go against the supernatural. The only person that came to your mind was your best friend. In some way you understood why he kept it but it was still yours and you will for sure ask him about it.

Why is he scared anyway? Well you doubt that he was even capable of being scared but why won’t he just give it back to you? He is literally an immortal with the power of compulsion…

You had two peaceful cigarettes, blowing the smoke out of the bathroom window before someone came in your room. It was again the maids. They brought you breakfast, placing it again at the same vanity. You made eye contact with one, the same maid you had pushed to the floor before. You sheepishly looked away to glance out of the slightly opened window. Maybe you should apologize. You tried to open the balcony but it was to your surprise still closed and the other windows could only be slightly opened. You wanted to laugh that he thought you would try to escape again, you weren’t that stupid to try again.

You ate your breakfast, quietly munching on a piece of cheese while thinking deeply. Can you atleast go out? Like just roam the inside? You decided to that. You were getting quite bored being inside your room the whole time. At that you went to the closet to pull out the robe, eyes for a second stopping at the other pieces of way more stunning clothes. You rolled your eyes.

The thought of going out of your room came to you only because you heard – well, didn’t hear the lock klick when your guests left. You don’t know if they done it on purpose or they just forgot but either way you took the opportunity. You mainly wanted to have a look around and maybe find a library that you were certain this place had.

The handle did turn all the way. You closed the door behind you, looking around the well known corridor but this time you went the other way than you were used to. Not like it seemed to look any different from the other corridors you went through. You walked slowly, sometimes stopping to look closely at the paintings on the wall. Your favorite one was a painting of an old couple and the one with red roses.

Your carefree strolling was of course interrupted as someone stepped in your way, right before you could turn the corner. A woman gasped lightly at your sudden appearance, you also getting spooked in the process.

She looked around the place in confusion before her eyes fell back to get a careful look at you. “Miss…” She addressed you and by the tone of her voice you knew you were in trouble. “What are you doing outside of your room?”

“I was just wondering if there’s a library…” You answer innocently. She didn’t buy it, even if you were basically telling her the truth.

The maid placed her hand on your shoulder and you jump lightly at the contact. “You should go back—“ Before she could finish, her eyes caught something behind you and it made her hand fall back to her side. At her sudden change of behavior, you turn around to look at what made her so quiet.

“I will show her the way.”

It was the sandy blonde. You were curious for how long he has been standing there, watching. Was he following you?

The woman at his words nodded, quickly leaving you two alone in the hallway. If you thought Hyunjin had a piercing stare you were now proved wrong. His eyes were like two black holes, swallowing you whole and also you wanted nothing more than to wipe off his smirk.

“You…”

He hummed, raising his eyebrows teasingly at you. “Yes, little old me.”

The blonde then made his way to you, your body tensing up from the closed proximity but as you went to back away from him, he suddenly turn to walk to the opposite direction you originally wanted to go. He stopped to turn around to look at you, pulling his hands behind his back. “Follow me.”

You followed him, keeping small distance between you two, watching his back carefully. The man smirked in amusement at your tactics but said nothing. Both of you walked in silence, you glancing every now and then at the back of his head before you went back at looking around. The vampire slowed down a little each step, now walking side by side next to you. He was as sneaky as cat.

“I won’t apologize, if that’s what you are wanting for.” Minho, you think that was his name, said to you. The actual audacity this man held was astronomical. How big was his ego? He really should apologize but you genuinely didn’t care that much about that anymore. But you were still far from forgetful…

You gave him a small look. “I actually didn’t even expect that from you because you probably wouldn’t even mean it.”

He chuckled. “Why?” He asked dramatically, stopping at the end of the corridor before a big wooden door. “You think I’m not capable of apologizing? A lot coming from a person I barely know.”

You almost rolled your eyes, seeing the joy behind his because of this pointless conversation. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just think it’s not your style.” From what you have seen certainly not…He nodded, looking almost like in thought before opening the door for you.

How many secrets this place holds? You were in awe almost every second you took a look around you. The library was truly beautiful. You breathe in the smell of old books and candles. The bookshelves, made from dark wood, loomed around the room. When you look up there was even another floor for you to roam and the painting of heaven with cherubs right on the ceiling simply took your breath away. There are so many things, so many things for you to go through…There were old maps hanging on the walls and you couldn’t miss the big golden globes in the center of the room. Maybe this place is starting to grow on you…

While you were marveling the scenery around you, looking almost like you forgot all about your company, the vampire for the meantime took his time to carefully look at you. Minho saw the sparkles in your eyes and genuine excitement clouding your features. He could see why Hyunjin was so captivated by you. He watched you silently walk around the library, mindlessly trailing your fingers over the hardwood of the shelves. He has never met someone that looked so happy just by the presence of books, he saw a little of himself in you.

Minho tilted his head as you picked out a book carefully to look at the cover. Was that a small smile perhaps? “Do you enjoy reading?” He asks.

Your eyes widened as he spoke up, you kind of forgot about him… “Well, I used to read a lot but I didn’t have the time nor the energy for that till now…so I thought why not start again, when there’s nothing better to do.” You answered mindlessly, his face for a moment scrunching up into a scowl.

He took a step closer to you and it made you finally look at him. “Well, you could spend your time with the person who is the reason you’re staying here.” You pressed your lips together at his words. You were really trying but you couldn’t…or were you really?

Minho saw your struggle and deep down he understood but as his friend’s nostop whining comes to his mind, he had to groan internally. “He’s actually not that bad of a company you know….” He sighs through his nose.

You sigh too, shaking your head. “I—it’s just a lot….I’m sorry but I really can’t make myself go after him.” You said, quietly but you knew he heard you. “Seeing that I basically don’t have a choice is making me all uncomfortable –“ He stopped you right there.

“That’s a lie, you made up your mind and decided to stay here and get to know him. He gave you a choice and you made yours, so just keep your promises.”

How he defended him made you feel all silly and stupid. Maybe you did need someone to tell you this, you wish you could talk to Mia…

Your eyes get caught at how from the curtains the sun shined through and you for a moment pushed this conversation away to think about how a vampire was standing right there before you at day time, looking so peaceful. If you can call his scowling face peaceful.

You two exchanged looks briefly before by a blink of an eye he was gone, leaving you in the library with books to look through and thoughts to think through.

──────────────────────

author’s note

hey

its been a while😬

it was more like my final week than a finals week sorry but im here now pookie with your new chapter

hope you like it

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scarletttries · 11 months ago

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Christmas By Myself This Year (Moon Knight Request)

Pairing: Steven Grant x GN!Reader

Rating: Pure fluff, gender neutral pronouns throughout :)

Word Count: 1.9k

Author's Note: My Christmas gift to all the Steven Grant lovers, after I got the sweetest anon request for something along the lines of Steven turning up on your doorstep on Christmas Eve 🥰I hope you are all having the best festive period that you can 💕

Christmas By Myself This Year (Steven Grant Fluff)

"This is great."

You stated each word matter-of-factly to yourself as you put the final bauble on the miniature Christmas tree you'd perched in the middle of your coffee table. You hadn't been planning on decorating this year, part of a promise you made yourself to use your precious few days off to prioritise self-care and ignore all the pressures that usually came with Christmas; family drama, big nights with your friends that left you exhausted, and never enough hours in the day to do something for yourself after looking for everyone else. No, this year you were taking control of your own Christmas and spending it at home, alone. It was going to be perfect, and you had been so proud of yourself when you decided to be alone this holiday period, so when you went out to get everything you needed for your favourite meal and saw some decorations discounted on Christmas Eve you couldn't help but take it as a sign to put up a few little celebratory trinkets.

You'd started with some fairy lights around the windows of your little flat, then popped some colourful baubles on the foot-high tree, now finally the finishing touch. You giggled to yourself as you tied a piece of ribbon to the nail above your front door, a neat bow holding a swinging piece of mistletoe in place. The face that flashed through your mind was that of Steven Grant, a regular at the vegetarian restaurant you worked at, his big brown eyes staring warmly up at you as if you were old friends. As well as being one of your most loyal customers, he was also by far the friendliest, visiting you often at work and talking your ear off in an effort to get to know you better, even going as far as to walk you home one night with an umbrella extended above you both when you forgot your own in the worst of the London weather. He was sweet and shy and awkward, all while being undeniably handsome but completely unaware of it. You realised you were smiling to yourself at the mere thought of the man, shaking your head as you turned your back to the door and wondered if it would break your own Christmas rules to try and bump into him at midnight on new year's eve.

You let the thought ruminate as you threw on a festive playlist and heated up some mulled wine on your stove, grateful for the moment of peace but also quickly feeling the tinge of loneliness in your quiet home. It was a relief to be away from work and family, so why did you keep glancing at the sofa like you were looking at someone? Maybe it was the string of bad dates this year had thrown your way, each one an unmitigated disaster. Or the fact that you'd just seen two of your friends get engaged this winter. Maybe you did want to be spending your Christmas with someone. Maybe you just didn't have that special someone in your life yet? So Christmas alone it is.

"This is great.." You sighed as you turned off the heat and poured the steaming burgundy potion into a festive mug, topping it with a slice of orange and then absent-mindedly doing the same to a second mug. Holding one in each hand you walked back to the coffee table, setting them down as you realised they would both just be for you, the playlist almost drowned out by torrential rain picking up outside your windows. Another wave of loneliness washed over you at the first sip, and suddenly you didn't feel much like being alone at all.

And then the doorbell rang.

You weren't expecting anyone, everyone you could think of being out of town for their own holiday adventures, so you slowly approached the door, debating dialing 9-9 into your phone just in case, and peered through the peephole.

"Steven?" You practically ripped the door open at the sight of the cold, soaked man, struggling with the chain just long enough you feared he might have turned around and walked home already. "What are you doing here? Are you okay?" Wide-eyed and almost apologetic Steven quickly nodded his head, tripping over his tongue as he spoke. He had spent all day preparing a few words from when he got brave enough to see you, but he wasn't expecting to miss you so much that he'd turn up on your doorstep on Christmas Eve, and he didn't prepare an answer for when you asked if he was okay.

"Merry Christmas! Oh, um, I'm fine, sorry, this must seem mad. I'm here and I didn't call first and now I'm dripping on your nice door mat." He trailed off in a panicked chuckle, each word making him realise quite what a sorry sight he must be.

"Do you want to come inside Steven? I just made mulled wine?" Your smile was just as welcoming as your words and even though he dreaded the thought of intruding, he found himself floating into your cosy home very happily.

"Are you sure? I don't want to be a bother. You have such a nice place, I'd hate to drip all over it." He found the tension melting from his shoulders as your hands settled there, suddenly remembering just why he missed being around you so much.

"You're not a bother at all Steven, you are very welcome here. Let me take your wet coat." He willingly shrugged off the damp layer and mumbled his thank yous as you shut the door behind him, letting him delve deeper into your inner sanctum. His face lit up as he surveyed your walls, a dozen new insights into your life and the things that you loved, your warm space so uniquely you but welcoming to everyone all the same. He felt at ease and at home, like he did whenever he got to spend time with you.

You on the other hand could feel your pulse racing as his flushed cheeks drew closer to yours, every beaming smile thrown your way as he looked around raising the temperature in your home by a degree or two. Trying to pull yourself together you turned on your heels and picked up the mugs you'd just filled up, extending one to Steven.

"I accidentally made two mugs of this, so I must have known you were coming!" You cringed at how isolated that sentence made you feel, but Steven's shaking hands wrapping around the mug and soaking up its warmth helped to put you at ease.

"You're too kind to me, love. I'm sorry to interrupt your private Christmas, I know you were looking forward to a bit of alone time this year."

"To be honest, the alone time got old pretty quickly. I'm really glad you stopped by, I could use the company. But, and I hope this doesn't sound rude, why did you stop by Steven?"

"Oh right of course! Sorry, got a bit carried away making myself at home there. I just wanted to give you something." Steven blushed as he set down his cup and rushed back to his coat, pulling a little envelope topped with a bow out of the pocket. "This is for you." He presented it proudly, watching in eager anticipation as you carefully unsealed it and slid out the little card.

"A gift card for my favourite coffee shop? That's so sweet Steven, thank you! I'm sorry I didn't get you anything, but I really appreciate this." It never ceased to amaze you just how thoughtful he could be, and just how closely he listened to everything you had to say.

"Well this might be something you could do for me. But only if you want! Um, I wanted to ask if you would ever want to go for a coffee with me some time? I really like talking to you, and seeing you, and spending time with you, and I know I only ever do it when you're working and that can make it tricky for us to talk too much, so I wanted to ask you on a proper date in the new year? But also you don't have to say yes, I got you the gift card so I could still technically buy you a coffee even if you don't want to go and get it with me. Which would be fine. But I would really like to go with you.." You could see the desperate panic building in his eyes as he went back and forth on the sentiment, hands wringing frantically as he tried to get the words out even though he couldn't remember anything he'd prepared every time he opened his mouth. You worried if you let him talk much longer he'd end up blue in the face or sprinting for the door, so setting the card down on the table, you figured out one way to shut him up and answer his question at the same time.

One hand landed gently on the side of his face, thumb running across his flushed cheek, while the other found his trembling fingers. His lips stopped mid-movement in awestruck disbelief as you glanced down at his mouth before slowly but surely leaning into him. Your bottom lip met his, plump and soft and hanging slightly open, and then as your noses brushed, the cupid bows of your upper lips kissed. It was sweet and soft and his lips felt cold against yours, uncertain as if you might pull away on second thought. You gave him a second to react, letting the cogs whir in his brain until finally his hand squeezed back at yours, an arm wrapping around your waist as he dived in for more. His jaw tensed as his lips applied more pressure, chasing the high that came from finally tasting you, pulling you tightly against his chest to soak up as much of your warmth and scent as he could possibly consume. He felt almost drunk as he finally pulled away, resting his forehead on yours with a giddy grin, summoning a little more confidence to ask again,

"Does this mean you'll go for coffee with me, love?"

"It definitely does Steven." Your second kiss was interrupted by the elated giggle that crept past his lips, before he went to plant peck after peck on you, this outcome even better than he could have ever hoped a Christmas miracle would be. You caught a glimpse of the recently strung up mistletoe over Steven's shoulder as you pulled him in for a hug, smiling to yourself at the wonderful turnaround your evening had had. You could feel Steven's grin against your cheek as he muttered quietly in your ear,

"If you want any more company this Christmas, I haven't got any plans. We can do anything you want."

"This is great." For the first time tonight, as Steven wrapped his arms around you even more tightly, you truly meant it.

#writing #fanfiction #requests #one shot #steven grant x reader #steven grant headcanons #steven grant smut #steven grant imagines #steven grant imagine #steven grant #steven grant fluff #steven grant fanfiction #moon knight imagines #moon knight imagine #moon knight x reader #moon knight headcanons #moon knight smut #moon knight fluff

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esamastation · 1 year ago

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Part fifty of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty, forty-one, forty-two, forty-three, forty-four, forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven forty-eight, forty-nine

There hadn't been all that many duels in PIDW. There was Sha Hualing's invasion, sure, but Shen Qingqiu barely even needed to fight there, he'd just let his sword fly and do all the talking, and that was fine. There'd been other fights, of course, serious fights against demons and beasts, but not that many formal duels.

Most of the fighting Shen Qingqiu had done had been sparring - and a great majority of that against his students. He was primarily a teacher, after all, not a frontline combatant, and he enjoyed sparring with his cute little disciples. There was nothing greater than seeing your student realise they were improving.

It, probably, left him with some bad habits, when it comes to duelling. He can't quite turn off the censorious eye of a master, looking for flaws in his opponent's stances, looking where they have room left to improve.

Deng Yuto is technically very good, his form is solid and his blows precise, he's clearly been taught by a good teacher. But he's very stiff and formal and puts too much emphasis on the transitions - something that can become a habit when you learn your forms in big groups.

If he was one of Shen Qingqiu's students, he'd be praising him for his efforts and telling him to let loose, to set aside the lessons and really go with the flow! He clearly has the techniques down - now is the time to learn how to apply them freely!

But Deng Yuto isn't Shen Qingqiu's student.

He's Sephiroth's opponent. And Sephiroth is probably supposed to kill him.

Blocking another technically perfect but very stiff attack with Masamune, Sephiroth considers his options. Angeal is standing somewhere behind him, radiating concern and worry and fear. Reno is hiding in the woods nearby and probably recording everything, if not on video - because cameras here are still huge and hard to lug around, thankfully - then in writing. And across from Sephiroth, behind his opponent, stands a squad of Wutai warriors, cheering for their captain and nervously waiting for the outcome.

Sephiroth wishes he had time to analyse their character design. It's delightfully mixed. Sleeveless tangzhuang shirts with more Japanese armour - what is it with this world and their disdain for sleeves, anyway? SOLDIER with their sleeveless turtlenecks, and now this. What, is everyone living for their next chance to flex their biceps or something? Don't they get cold? Tch!

Sadly, it probably means he can't find a proper Xianxia style hanfu in Wutai. Shame.

Deng Yuto steps back, swinging his spear decisively. "Fight me seriously!" he demands, and Sephiroth realises he'd fallen into a teacher's mindset after all, stepping back and letting his opponent lead.

"Ah," Sephiroth sighs. He's being insulting to his opponent. "Very well. If that's what you want."

His opponent braces himself, pale but determined. Behind him his men fall quiet, watching with expectant horror. It's painfully clear what they expect.

Aiyah, guess he better make it quick and impressive for them!

Sephiroth salutes his opponent with the Masamune - and then slices Deng Yutos gunspear into four pieces and finishes with the edge of his blade at the man's throat.

"You're finished," Sephiroth says to the man left holding the remains of his spear shaft. "Yield."

Judging by the look the man gives him, he might've as well told him to dance a jig. "What?"

Your life, man! Take it! "Yield."

Deng Yuto's hands shake and he drops his spear. "I do not," he says. "I challenged you for my men's lives - I will not yield them."

What? "I don't want your men's lives," Sephiroth says, exasperated. "And I don't want to take yours. Yield and leave."

The silence is deafening.

Then, "... Maybe the butchers at Shinra have finally given the Demon a full lobotomy?" someone in the Wutai group suggests, in Mandarin.

Which is kind of confusing for Sephiroth's brain because he kind of hadn't realised they weren't speaking Mandarin before? Uh…

"It must be some kind of trick."

"He's lost his mind…"

"Hasn't he always been insane?"

"We can't trust him - the Demon is a monster, he has no honour. They let us go and follow us to kill the lord -"

Sephiroth looks at them over Deng Yuto's shoulder, blinking slowly. For a moment he thinks of doing or saying nothing… but his drama-loving heart couldn't bear letting this go. "What thick faces Wutai warriors have, to say such things right in front of the one they're insulting."

The captain stiffens and the Wutai warriors all go very quiet. "Oh, great," Angeal mutters behind Sephiroth. "Now what?"

"Who taught you to speak our tongue?" Deng Yuto asks warily.

"No one. This one simply learned," Sephiroth answers and arches a brow. "Is this Sephiroth not allowed? Is the language sacred?"

"... Your mode of speech is archaic," Deng Yuto comments, looking confused.

Ah, well. Probably! That's what happens when you end up as a highly respectable Peak Lord in a Xianxia stallion novel for years! Though he doesn't have that big of a sample yet, the way the Wutai soldiers speak the language sounds a little rude to him. So informal!

With a scoff, Sephiroth draws his sword away and sheathes it. Behind him, Angeal breathes out a sigh of relief.

"You are letting us go?" Deng Yuto asks, unsure.

"Does Captain Yuto wish to die?" Sephiroth asks plainly and tries to be haughty. Think, big bad. "This Sephiroth will oblige, should Captain Yuto make it necessary. But as of now, this one has no interest in death."

There's a confused murmur going through the Wutai warriors, though nothing distinct enough to make out. Deng Yuto motions them to be quiet and looks at Sephiroth levelly. "Then what is… Sephiroth's interest here? Why has he come to this place?"

Sephiroth considers his answer and then decides, fuck it. It's not like he's going to fight this war, anyway! "This one is seeking seclusion and an opportunity to better himself."

There's an incredulous wheeze coming from the group of Wutai warriors. "He expects us to believe that?!"

Sephiroth says nothing to that, arching his brows at Deng Yuto. After a moment, the Wutai Captain takes off his helmet, to reveal a man in his thirties with a serious but handsome face and long black hair in a tail. He puts his helmet under his arm and for a moment looks at Sephiroth, clearly trying to figure him out and just as clearly failing.

Ah, he must be really OOC right now. It's surprisingly gratifying! Life without a System is truly great.

"Sephiroth is not here to fight?" Deng Yuto finally asks, slow and incredulous.

Ah, well. "This one can't deny he has orders," Sephiroth admits. "But as things stand, no. This Sephiroth is in seclusion and would rather concentrate on his personal cultivation."

Judging by the reaction that gets, they not only understand the word, but they also get what he means by it. There's shock, some incredulity and what's clearly intrigue in Deng Yuto's face. He looks at Sephiroth like he's seeing something new and strange.

Not that strange, though, it turns out! Whether it's based on Taoism, Buddhism, or something else, it seems like this world has some form of cultivation, after all.

Isn't that an interesting turn of events?

👀

#fanfiction #ff7 #svsss #sephiroth #shen yuan #angeal hewley #shen qingqiu

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l0vem41l · 9 months ago

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star stickers and best efforts.

「 tws + notes: no tws, unedited, hurt/comfort but 100% not at all, reader is mildly mean when nervous LIKE A BAD DOG /ref and most definitely written self-indulgently by accident, sun is mildly condescending, they r each others best supporters, mentions of a customer being rude but rly nothing crazy, sun uh... he's an interesting fella, BIGGG dialogue chunks im sorry im sorry 」

「 gn!reader, can be platonic or romantic <3 」

↳ ft. the daycare attendant/sun/sundrop

author's note: my wip title was literally just "the one where you're yelled at" :p but... hiiii!!! obligatory return to fnaf real quick becuz,,, no, i still havent gotten into the ruin dlc but YES i do love sun's personality in help wanted 2..... if this is ooc u can erm. shove me into wet concrete. (。﹏。) aaannywayz!! missed this!!! missed this so much!!!! ( ╯□╰ ) sorry for not valentine's day posting,,, scandalous ik since im lit rally Called Valentine. but oh well. enjoy! or dont. if you dont im sorry please request fnaf stuff so i can Fix That /srs

if you weren't relying on this job to put food on your table and a roof on your head, you’d burn the freddy fazbear’s mega pizzaplex to the ground for a piece of pocket lint and a pat on the head.

maybe it’s a bit dramatic to say that— you're paid well, you like your mostly robot coworkers, and most of the time (emphasis on most and not always) the work is manageable enough.

the customers are another story.

sun notices the minute you walk in the daycare. you look like you're a minor inconvenience away from murder— which naturally, makes him feel inclined to prod a little.

“well, someone’s awfully sulky today!”

while you’d typically crack a smile at the upbeat jester animatronic, his enthusiasm in the face of your misery is grating. there’s no energy left in your body to banter with him— you were using most of it to drag your feet over to the shoe caddy, toolbox in hand to fix up its shelf, now hanging askew due to a busted bracket.

“can it, sunny, i don't wanna hear it.” you mutter, more venomous than you intend it to be. he doesn’t even blink at your grumpiness. instead, he happily holds up the shelf while you inspect it and grab a new bracket to secure it.

at least he’s trying to make himself useful. you think to yourself.

his faceplate tilts slightly, staring at you with that ever present grin. his staring isn’t really helping, but you don’t fault him for it. you’ve gotten used to his antics by now. “woke up on the wrong side of the bed?” sun questions.

you shake your head.

“got yelled at by a customer— now, if you could please just drop the topic—” you sigh exasperatedly, not even bothering to finish the sentence as you sit down cross legged in front of the shoe caddy, slumping slightly in defeat.

much too persistent for his own good, sun decides that inquiring even further about the incident that seems to have you beat down is a good idea. “what’d you do?”

you consider feigning offense as he insinuates it’s somehow your fault. but you don’t. you just shrug it off.

“my job.”

“ah, they do hate it when you do that.” he tuts.

“it wasn’t even that big of a deal,” you mutter, getting the bracket in place and marking it, “this one kid just so happened to walk up to the arcade machine i was putting an out of order sign on. i felt bad, so like, obviously, i hand the kid a few tokens, apologize politely, explain— and you’d think it’s all good right?”

you pause mid-ramble as you fix up the shelf. in all your misery, you forgot that you don’t even know exactly what caused the shelf to collapse like this. you consider asking.

sun leans in just a bit too close, interrupting your train of thought as you stare at the shelf. when you glance at him, he gives you a little nod.

go on, he seems to say wordlessly. he’s waiting silently for you to continue your story. it’s never not unnerving when he’s quiet.

“...anyways, uh... the kid’s dad came by and got mad or something. didn’t understand why i couldn’t just let him play one game since it looked perfectly functional— keep in mind, this is the arcade machine that literally kept eating up tokens only to not function, and shocked kids when it did— so i kept trying to explain why i couldn’t exactly do that. but for some reason, it was such a big fucking deal—”

“language.” he chides.

“...fricking deal. of course, i had to be berated for it. i offered to grab them more faz-tokens as compensation and i thought the problem was solved... and then i checked and saw he still left a bad review. definitely gonna hear about that from management.” sun hands you a tool as you continue to speak.

“but now i’m upset, i’m definitely in trouble, and my face hurts from the whole customer service smile i was holding that entire conversation. like seriously, i don’t know how i’m expected to do that 24/7.” you stop at your last remark and stare at sun and his unchanging expression. “...my bad.”

the awkward silence only lasts for a moment, thankfully. you’ve spoken your piece— sun decides to speak his.

“you did your best.” he says simply, as you finally fix the shelf into place. he pats you on the head and doesn't even hide his amusement when you sulk.

“i know that tone, sunny, you're making fun of me—”

“poor thing.” he continues, grinning brightly as he makes a show of patronizing you. sun’s hand continues to pat the top of your head gently, like he would when consoling a child. or when greeting a dog. has he,,, ever seen a dog before? probably not.

you groan and manage to shove his arm away.

“i do mean it though,” he continues, his tone still lighthearted— but notably more earnest as he notes your expression. sun helps you put your tools away neatly back into the toolbox, even though it really is just a one-man job.

“you tried your best,” sun closes the toolbox with a flourish and a click, “...and for that—!”

with a dramatic flick of his wrist, bells jingling as he does, sun produces a gold star sticker from… somewhere. he holds it up for you to see.

and then gently presses it onto the tip of your nose.

“to my favoritest human employee here! and my bestest of friends!” it’s hard to bite back a smile at those words. even if his little show of empathy and affection is much too theatrical for your current mood.

“whatever.” you shrug a little, unable to stop the corners of your mouth from twitching into a little grin. standing up and grabbing the toolbox, you give him an awkward thumbs up.

“thanks. and uh… sorry. for being mean. i guess.”

sun shakes his head dismissively, bouncy and bright as ever. “oh, don't mention it!”

something about his seeming lack of offense towards your prickliness makes you feel even more guilty. still, he gives you a wave as you head out, “bye-bye”-ing happily as you walk away, sticker stuck to your nose and smile on your face like an idiot.

you decide you’ll find a way to make it up to him later. you figure he deserves that much for putting up with everything.

meanwhile, sun is taking mental notes on more stuff to break of whenever you’ve been away for too long. just in case, of course. maybe you’d have more interesting customer encounters to rant about. and hey, you could use the company, couldn’t you?

— reblogs always appreciated!

#fnaf sb #fnaf sun #fnaf dca #sundrop #fnaf x reader #sundrop x reader #fnaf sundrop #dca x reader #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf sb headcanons #sun x reader #daycare attendant x reader #fnaf security breach headcanons #dca x self insert #how do i tag again #help wanted 2 #kind of #not really

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silvyavan · 4 months ago

Text

New theory time before any leaks drop.

Had this one in the back-burner for a long ass time but now we're sitting down and writing it at last.

Each and every fight between the black bulls and the paladins of sort WILL have a devastating impact on Lucius and chip away at his mental stability and confidence. Each Lucius fight fuck him up mentally like taking the horcrux tally off of voldemort.

We'll start with the first one we know: Magna and Luck.

Chapter 369 Lucius' thoughts are first that from Magna's spell, his magic is split in thirds, then his regeneration being slow from antimagic, that they're chipping away at him and that he "only needs to endure it for a little while" before he can start fighting back.

The wording implies that Lucius just needs to endure it a little and he'll win. The problem? He doesn't, a clone gets busted up out of the 11 ones they have and the angel homunuclus amount dropped too damn fast. Magna and Luck aren't even done, I'm not sure if it's the panels or not but it looks like they're in the Black Bull Mecha too.

What does this mean? Magna and Luck fucked up his confidence in winning just with his clones so he started the shit early to finish it. Them beating the clone into the ground and at the end of the chapter, Asta saying "So which one of us has the advantage now?" Is telling Lucius that yhe plan is no longer in the position to just keep going with the plan. He can't wait out the clones to fuck them up, so he's panicking and starting the tree spell early.

And the same is gonna follow with everyone else.

Gauche will fuck up his confidence in being a proper elder sibling. Man's has in previous chapters stated that he and his siblings will remake humanity, but later it was shown he's got their bodies in cocoons and using their magic to make clones and homunuclus. Man's essentially walking around saying "this is for the good of the world" while desecrating the corpses of his siblings.

I know in my heart Gauche will call him a piece of shit brother. If dark triad being ..like that due to Lucius tempering with their souls, then it would also put him in shit brother category. It would also add to character development for Gauche, showcasing him becoming more aware of things outside of his sister and caring for other people while also not choosing to be narrow-minded in one thing/person entirely. I'm basing this off of the fact that he's teamed up with Rill, who's also very focused on his art but as a result his interpersonal life is struggling.

Plus Gauche big brotherism vs Lucius negative 2 star big brother behaviors would be hilarious.

Noelle, Vanessa and Grey together shit would be realising that him being a noble didn't mean shit for talent. He calls himself a prodigy that's able to purify devils, but Noelle didn't start off with even basic magic control, Vanessa was literally shut off from the rest of the world to make a red string of fate by her mother, the Witch Queen, and Grey, assuming her father is also a noble, was harassed for her magic and lack of ability to do anything or stand up for herself.

We know that the Zogratis were a noble family in Spade so it wouldn't be surprising that that added to Lucius' pride, and being a prodigy it would've elevated that he didn't have to worry about power coming to him.

A noble with social anxiety and ptsd, an alcoholic immigrant and a royal with an undiagnosed learning disability beating his ass would show that having a lineage ain't worth shit. None of them were remotely talented because of their lineages, they had gotten to the point where they were through their own efforts and challenging themselves.

Henry vs Lucius would be a disability on disability violence fight. AGAIN, showing that his disability, while it did hold him back, was not a definitive show that he had to do shit on his own. We could get a possible flashback of Lucius being abandoned by his parents, left to fend for his siblings, as a parallel to Henry being left to die in the house he had. The difference is that Henry was found by Yami, who reached out to him, and Henry never stopped hoping to have a family, even if one wasn't bound by blood.

The Lucius Clones vs Black Bulls quartet would be his realisation that you can get stronger by means that don't require you to be a genuis and he didnt. ALL of them have some form of unorthodox magic that, reasonably, couldn't have worked on the battlefield (ash, sealing, spacial with no offensive traits, cotton/cooking).

Considering Lucius has soul magic, he thought the only way to get magic would be to hijack other people's souls. Vs Finral, Zora, Charmy and Secre who at SEVERAL points in their flashbacks/backstories were alluded to being out down by others for having simple or weak magic types, but didn't give up and instead found to use their magic to help their allies in unorthodox means (traps, food buffs and sheep soldiers, sealing entities/enemies, speed boosting teleportation and likely more).

Yami, Ichika and Nacht? Something along parents being hoes isn't an excuse to be a sociopath witn a hint of scary magic doesn't define you as person. The fact this is Ichika saving Yami from someone he can't fight against (paralleling Yami protecting her from their dad) and Nacht stopping Morgen from doing something he's gonna regret (paralleling the Faust Devil Summoning Incident) is just chefs kiss.

You could also say that, since both of them were in devil related clans (Yami's being partially mixed with devil hybrids, Nachts family just being the Clover equivalents of Zogratis.), this could challenge Lucius' views that he HAD to fo some devil/forbidden magic shit to become stronger, because that's the type of family he has and that's the only thing his magic can do.

Gordon will fuck up his confidence in dealing with devils/curses, assuming the disability will also be a curse thing/metaphor/his curse and disability are a hint at comorbidies. The fact that Gordon is teamed up with William AND Charlotte? And being able to absorb their curses, taking off their supposed handicaps?

Gordon is handing this man the L, as well beating up some supposed idea of, since Lucius was cursed, he was shunned. William and Charlotte are both leaders in their respective squads, highly respected and looked up to, Gordon himself is part of the squad and he's cherished as well. The curse is not an excuse to act like an asswipe.

The fact that Noelle, Vanessa and Grey are paired on the same page spread as Gauche and Rill could hint at familial relations frictions, while Nacht and the In-Laws group and Gordon pulling up with the Cursed Captains Crew could allude to friction/trauma in relation to his family history/traditions.

Henry, Magna and Luck could hint at his struggles with managing his disability (Henry is chronically ill, Luck may have a neurological disorder due to ptsd, Magna needs glasses and has severe scarring on his head, likely brain trauma). The Zora, Finral, Charmy and Secre lineup could deal with his issues of being born with a seemingly strange and unorthodox magic and how he'd focus on developing it.

Asta and Yuno? Obviously dealing with his dreams, goals and aspirations as well as mental instability caused by all the aforementioned.

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk.

#black clover #black clover manga #black clover theory #lucius zogratis #ichika yami #morgen faust #gauche adlai #vanessa enoteca #grey black clover #gordon agrippa #henry legolant #silv writes

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annie-creates · 8 months ago

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Good enough for a hero

Pairing: Andromache of Scythia x reader

Genre: angst

Words: 900

Note: Another fic for Andy after a while, nothing big but I hope you'll like it anyway. It's inspired by this amazing song.

Death wasn‘t a stranger to you. You met regularly like old friends, under the cloak of night or at the hand of your enemies. You weren’t exactly proud of your job, robbery and fraud being your routine tools. Being immortal however gave you a certain advantage when it came to dangerous situations. It’s not like you always wanted to become the villain, there was a time you tried to do good. A time where you did your best to become part of the group of heroes, yet despite your exceeding efforts they never accepted you as one of them.

As you leave a high security building with the prized possession secured in your hands, you recall the months and years you spent trying to prove yourself to Andy and her group of soldiers. The exhausting training sessions where she took your life in a blink of an eye if you weren’t fast enough. The nights you spent eating dinner alone because you didn’t earn your place at the table. Mornings you were woken up with a bucked of freezing water, the excuse being they were trying to give you actual army training you lacked.

“Get up. We don’t need cowards.” Andromache gritted over her teeth after beating you down for the hundredth time.

“Can’t we finish for today.” You pleaded as your sweat mixed with the blood trickling from your bruised face.

“We won’t finish until you get at least a punch in.” She decided uncompromisingly kicking you in the side.

“That wasn’t necessary.” You grumble as you stand up with difficulty.

“It won’t be necessary after you become more than just a useless burden.” Andy said venomously and run at you once again, choking you until your weakened body passed out this time.

After years of tremendous torture excused by the higher purpose, you couldn’t take it anymore. So you got up at the middle of the night and left without a trace. If you are not good enough to become a hero, you’ll become someone much worse. Maybe you didn’t fit their strict requirements but on the street you quickly became friends with the night life and everything that happens under the brim of darkness. You found a group of shady traders whose business was hardly legal, but you didn’t care anymore. They accepted you in and you proved yourself to be actually quite skilled.

“Another successful hunt.” Tony, the leader of your group praised.

“What is it?” You questioned, usually stealing gold or original paintings to sell on the black market.

“It’s the Vestonic Venus, our buyer offered a lot for this piece.” He explains as he puts the package in his coat. “Alright, let’s go home. Good job guys.”

They drop you off a few streets from your flat and you finish the road on foot. It wasn’t anything fancy even though your job allowed you to squander money from time to time. You still preferred the modest minimalistic life, it’s how you made sure to stay hidden from both the government and the group of immortals who definitely wouldn’t be happy knowing all these jobs were your doing. It was questionable what you’ve become, but as long as it kept you fed and safe, you didn’t really care. You were never one to play for a higher moral ground anyway.

The next morning you visit your favorite coffee shop in the area, having a weakness for a good morning cup of coffee. As you’re waiting for your order of cappuccino and a blueberry muffin, you look around the calm room, unintentionally meeting eyes with a lady at one of the tables. She was sitting in a booth with a young girl you didn’t recognize. She looked tired and somehow older than the many years ago, and her hair was cut short this time, but you’d recognize the face that spit so many hurtful lies at you anywhere. Somehow in the whole wide world Andy found you once again.

“Miss Y/n.” The barista announces and you grab your paper cup and bag and practically run out.

You weren’t fast enough though cause you were hardly three steps out the door when her strong hand catches your arm, forcing you to look at the woman you despised most in this entire world and whole century. Unlike you, dressed in an elegant spring coat, she wore a worn-down jacket she probably owned even back when you first met her and her whole being looked tired and worn out, including her clothes. On the contrary the look in her eyes was full of resolve and determination.

“Y/n…” She starts warily.

“Don’t.” You warn her. “I don’t wanna talk to you.”

“Wait. A lot has happened okay? There’s this girl, Nile...” Andy starts explaining to you with urgency.

“I don’t care! I want to have nothing to do with you people!” You pull your hand out of her grasp. “Leave me alone. I don’t fuckin care about your business, so whatever it is, go bother someone else with it.”

You scold her and turn around quickly pacing away. You couldn’t comprehend the audacity she had to talk to you after all those years and want things from you without as much as an apology or acknowledgement of all the things she did to you. You couldn’t think of what would be so important to overcome her passionate hatred for you.

#andromache of scythia x reader #andromache the scythian x reader #andromache x reader #andy x reader #andromache the scythian #andromache x you #andromache of scythia #the old guard #fanfic #fanfiction #andromache of scythia angst #andy angst #andromache angst #andromache the scythian angst #Spotify

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moongreenlight · 10 months ago

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WIP Wednesday except it's Thursday and I'm using this as an excuse to post something without the imaginary pressure of getting a full fic out. :D

800-ish word excerpt from my Ghoap x Reader nutcracker AU that I meant to finish around Christmas.

The orchestra has picked up about half a beat too fast and the conductor seems not to have noticed.

Too busy salivating at the legs of one of the snowflake girls a few spots to your left. His baton is getting lazy. Long, drawn out flicks and swishes like he’s casting spells instead of directing. Strange, you think. If anything they should be slowing down to match his tempo.

Maybe it’s the strings? They’re nipping into the winds and forcing the entire group forward. It throws off a girl in front of you. She’s younger by a handful of years. Doesn’t quite have the music- even at the right tempo- committed to memory. She drops her arm a full count too early. Even from behind you can hear her curse.

This seems to rouse him. He jerks his head back to center and starts flicking the tip of the baton back on beat. He’s a stern man. He’s got coal-black eyes that seem to house the staggering power to burn a hole straight through someone bone and all. You swear you can hear flesh crackling and sizzling as he casts his gaze out over the stage. It takes a moment, but he’s able to herd the group back onto a single track. Dancers and musicians alike.

Someone has either put too much or too little rosin on their shoes. It’s difficult to pinpoint, but there’s a terrible squeaking sound from somewhere on the stage that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Like nails on a chalkboard. It gets worse during the final round of turns.

And then, by some miracle, intermission. Big cloth curtains draw together. Kicking up dust and loose sparkles and large pieces of fake snow that adhere themselves to your skin. Kept snug in place by the sheen of sweat that collected under the brutal heat of the spotlights and the effort it took to dance for nearly forty minutes straight.

Imogene, the girl who’d just recently championed the superlative of biggest blunder to date, was now heavily crying into the arms of her older sister.

You relish the few moments you get to catch your breath before the mistress comes and begins to shoo you and the other girls offstage. She’s far more stern than the conductor. And unfortunately less handsome, though they share the same deep-set frown lines that cage their mouths. You catch her give a shaking Imogene a whack to the ear before you can duck backstage.

In your hurry to whip your head back around for fear of meeting the same fate, you run directly into someone’s back. You’re quick to hiss out an apology, but it’s drowned out by the sound of a man speaking terribly muddy French.

“- gorgeous. Even caught the orchestra’s attention.” (please pretend this is French I forgot to translate it and I'm too lazy rn)

The girl he’s talking to, Sophie, giggles and he sways slightly from her batting him in the chest.

“Excuse me.”

It comes out a bit more stiff than you mean it to. He doesn’t wait for Sophie to dismiss herself before turning around.

John MacTavish is one of the few men in the company, but even without such slim options, you feel he would still be a standout.

He’s not from France, though it’s not uncommon for members to have made pilgrimage to join such a prestigious group. His accent is horrible, any potential ruined by his upbringing somewhere in Scotland, though he earns himself a few points with native speakers for his enthusiasm.

He’s also granted the cushion of patience because of his undeniable good looks. He’s got great blue eyes that emote just as well as he does. Shining and laughing along with him like they’ve got personalities to match. He’s big. Tall and muscular, which -again- isn’t uncommon what with all the lifts and spins and acrobatics he does, but he packs on muscle in a way not many other male dancers have the capacity to do.

You’re sure it’s a nightmare to source costumes for him. He’s tore the back panel out of his jacket twice this season alone and you’re only about three-quarters of the way through.

He’s gorgeous and he knows it, which makes him insufferable. He’s charming and got fantastic whit, sure, but he’s perverse and a habitual letcher so it all seems to cancel out.

His great beauty makes him the popular option for most all of the company and the patrons of the opera house alike. It’s become a running joke that you’ve not really served your time unless you’ve had a go with John.

Your participation is left widely up to speculation.

“Sorry, hen.”

If he noticed your rigidity, he doesn’t bring it up. Instead he leans down and takes you by the wrists. Brings his face close to yours and plants a kiss on the right corner of your mouth.

“Jesus, John.”

You scramble away, much to his delight.

“Always forget if it’s right or left first.”

He’s snickering like he’s clever. It takes some legitimate effort to wrench your arms out of the manacles that are his hands.

“Funny.”

You say flatly as you shoulder past him, wiping at the corner of your mouth with the heel of your palm.

“I thought so.”

#moongreenlight #moongreenlightwrites #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod x reader #141 headcanons #drabble #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #soap mactavish #soap mw2 #soap cod #john soap mactavish #simon riley #ghoap #ghoap x reader #wip wednesday

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gretavangroupie · 1 year ago

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Valor (Chapter 2)

Pairing: Jake x Reader, Daniel x Reader

Word Count: 14.7k

Warnings: Cursin', Smokin', Drinkin', Allusions to Drug Use. Angst: Struggle and Poverty, Emotional Manipulation, Abandonment, Jealousy, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of Weapons, Fighting, Blood, Mentions of Death, Allusions to Suicide, Allusions to Shady Activities, Gambling. Smut: Kissing, Allusions to Sex, Heavy Petting.

Valor Playlist: Apple Music | Spotify

A new project in collaboration with my talented co-writer @gretavanmoon.

HER POV

Danny pulled you by your hand into the back room, darting through a door you hadn’t noticed, straight into a room that was too dark to see inside. You followed his lead, trusting him to guide you, as you stepped on unidentified objects, tripping on them as he yanked you right and left through what felt like a broom closet with storage shelves.

Finally, a light bulb illuminated above you, bringing light to the small hidden hallway. He began pulling a big folded piece of thick cardboard from behind one of the shelves, struggling to hold the whole thing by himself. A quick glance from him let you know he needed a hand, so you jumped to action, helping him to remove the bulky and awkward object.

“What the hell is this?” You asked, noticing it was kind of heavy. You both turned it so it was easier to carry, making your way down the rest of the crowded hallway and into a larger room. You worked to place it on a tabletop, watching as Danny flipped the flaps open and revealed a very old, very worn-in poker table topper. “Oh.”

“Self-explanatory, huh.” He huffed, running back into the storage hallway to grab more items. Shortly, he returned with a few decks of cards, and a larger box that held multicolored poker chips. Again, you watched his hands move quickly, setting up the table with as much precision as he could, given his hands were a bit shaky and his body language seemed more anxious than normal. You stayed standing awkwardly by, wanting to help, but completely unsure how to.

“You know how to do this?” He asked you, glancing up through his thick eyelashes while he worked.

You shook your head quickly, stepping back as you crossed your arms. “No. I don’t.”

“Fuck. Ok, can you… go gather up a few things from the kitchen and make them presentable on like, a plate or something? I don’t know what we have, doesn’t matter…crackers, whatever you can find.” He ordered, his voice cracked with nerves.

Now that, you could do. “Yes. I’ll be back.”

You managed to come up with two plates full of Club crackers and pepperoni, two jars of olives, and some butter cookies. You rushed back through the way you came, presenting your buffet to Danny.

“That will have to do.” He chuckled as he unfolded a metal chair. When he finished, he stood back and placed his hands on his hips, his body still dirty from the workday.

“Danny, I know I said I wouldn’t ask questions, but…should I be scared right now?” You asked, working to pop the top on one of the olive jars.

He sighed heavily, catching his breath as he made his way over to you. “No, no reason to be scared. You’re…you’re just going to have to bear with us. This was…unexpected, tonight.” He took the jar from your hands, spinning the top off with little to no effort at all. He put it back down on the table, and placed his hands on your shoulders, turning you to meet his eyes. “I really am sorry you’re accidentally involved in this shit tonight, and I really hope it doesn’t change your mind about me…”

“Danny, what the fuck am I about to witness?” You asked, suddenly feeling even more terrified than before. Being in the dark like this was starting to make your face go numb with fear.

His hands squeezed your shoulders as he stepped in closer, his eyes flashing behind you down the hallway for just a split second.

“Hopefully not a goddamn thing.”

——

You follow Danny back out through the strange secret passageway and out into the bay, seeing Jake still rushing around with whatever he was cleaning. You grabbed your book off the chair, and stood around sheepishly, waiting for one of them to tell you the next move. How the fuck did you find yourself here?

Just then you heard a rap on the old metal door, two quick knocks, followed by one…

Jake and Danny’s heads popped up immediately, the two of them looking to each other while their shoulders fell in relief. Jake rushed to the door, but before he opened it, he motioned to Danny to push you behind the wall of the loft to conceal you. This is insane…

You stepped back behind it out of view of whoever was at the door, but you could still hear the conversation.

“Jacob, not much time…” the gruff voice said as you listened to his footsteps enter the bay.

“They said sunset tonight, last time they got here sooner than that.” Jake responded quickly.

“I know it, I know it. Is everything ready? I brought two bottles of rye whiskey…”

“Yeah, just finished putting everything out.” You heard Danny sigh a sound of relief, and his words mixed with the stranger’s made it become apparent to you that the other man was Bubba.

A little more private conversation was had between them before you heard the door open again.

“I’ll be back a little before sunset, listen to me, boys. There’s to be a couple new faces here tonight. I wanted to warn ya ‘fore they just showed up.” Bubba explained with panic in his voice.

“New faces? Who?” Jake asked, his voice a bit more booming than before.

“I don’t know much, Jake. Just know they won’t be familiar to you. Just treat ‘em normal. Like everybody else, you hear? I’ll be here to keep watch. I’ll be back soon.”

And with that, you heard the loud metal door clank closed.

Danny finally rounded the wall and pushed past you, grabbing the tips of your fingers as he pulled you back toward their rooms. “You’re gonna have to be okay with hanging out in Jake’s room tonight, okay?” He brushed his sweaty strands back, leaving behind a tiny black brush of grease on his forehead. “They’re going to be here soon and they can’t…they can’t see you.”

You felt enraged. Your eyes scanned his as you clenched your jaw, wanting nothing more than to lash out at him, and Jake too, for bringing you into this mess, whatever it was. When Danny kept his lips pursed together, you caught his drift. “Trust me, Y/N…please…” he whispered, his fingertips squeezing yours.

“Alright, fucking fine.” You pushed past him this time, making your way into Jake’s room. You sat down onto his mattress with force, hugging your knees as your book hung between your fingers. You looked up to Danny with disapproval, still utterly pissed off this was happening. You knew he felt bad, you could see it in his face.

He finally took a deep breath and made his way over to you, leaning down to press a quick, chaste kiss directly to the middle of your forehead. It surprised you, it was the first time he’d actually connected his lips to you. You felt a giant burst of butterflies erupt in your stomach, the hurried sentiment most definitely softening you to the madness you felt before.

“Don’t come out until we tell you it’s safe. I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He whispered, pulling the old door closed behind him.

——

It had been almost an hour, and you’d heard nothing but Jake and Daniel’s occasional whisper-yells to each other. You’d recognized that there were a few unfamiliar voices mixed in with theirs now, all male, all muffled and broken as each made their way through the kitchen.

You’d made yourself comfortable on Jake’s bed, kicked back reading your poems and chewing on a cinnamon candy while you waited. It hadn’t quite dawned on you yet that you were probably going to be in here all night long…the thought that poker games usually lasted well into the morning hours completely passing you up. You were thankful you had used the bathroom before they shut you in.

While you were knee-deep in a long Maya passage, you were startled by Jake’s bedroom door flying open and him barreling through it, looking as though he had forgotten you were in there. You recoiled back on the bad, a little scared at who might be busting in.

“Shit.” He breathed, hardly a word. “Sorry. You uh, you okay in here?”

You shrugged your shoulders and let out a breath. “Okay as I can be, I guess.” You wanted him to see that you were a bit agitated at the whole situation.

He walked over to his closet, pulling out what looked to be a semi-clean t-shirt. He yanked it off the hanger and then looked to you, his tongue rested across his upper lip in thought. You were rested back comfortably on his pillows, reading your book like he wasn’t even there. When you noticed him looking, you glanced up from the pages to find him staring you down a bit awkwardly. He turned his back to you, grabbing his grease-covered shirt at the neck, ripping it off quickly and throwing it to the corner of the room.

You couldn’t help but glance up again, seeing his half-naked body completely devoid of any coverage so that you could see his tattoos as a whole. His arm and back muscles tightened and drew in as he moved, the ripple as his skin moved over his ink covered ribs leaving you breathless. You thought you might combust all together as you tried to look at his tattoos through quick glances. There were so many, so intricate and ornate. You wanted to look at each of them. Ask what they meant to him.

The first one you noticed was a dove on the back of his right shoulder blade, its wings expanded like it was ready to fly right off of his skin, followed by a thin string of letters that flowed directly down the center of his spine. You were too far away to read what they said, but they disappeared directly into the back of his jeans. The last and most noticeable one was the long body of a snake, traveling from in front of his left shoulder and down his back, the tail of it wrapped around his hip. Your eyes fell short again, back down to the words on the pages. Concentrate, Y/N. That’s nothing you should be looking at, he wants privacy. But god…he was a fucking sight…

Then, out of your periphery, you watched as he slowly turned to face you, pulling the new, clean shirt over his head and smoothing it over his pecs and toned stomach. Your eyes traveled down his torso to the top of his jeans, a thin band of his boxers peeking out over top. Fuck, don’t look. The next thing you knew, he was crawling up the bed, hand after knee, directly toward you. You closed the book, your body moving itself backwards and away from him as he continued to crawl toward you.

What the hell…? Your heart began pounding.

He stopped when both hands rested on either side of your torso, his face so close to yours you could feel his breath. His hair hung in his face as he reached his right hand to his nightstand, pulling the squeaky drawer open with quick force. You moved your eyes to the side to see what he was grabbing as the metallic sounds rattled in his hand. A handgun. He kept his face close to yours…so close his nose was mere centimeters from brushing yours. You felt your breath hitch, and you knew he noticed. Fuck. He cocked the safety on the gun, and reached behind him, slipping it into the back of his jeans before slowly backing away off the bed.

He stood tall from the mattress, noticing you were nothing but a panting pile of nerves and discomfort while he resituated the gun. The side-smirk that painted his face was enough to make you infuriated again, but before you could haul off and throw your sharp words down his throat, he had backed out the door, shutting it quietly just as Danny had.

God, you were so overwhelmingly pissed off at the both of them, while at the same time they were both so goddamn attractive it almost wasn’t fair.

After a while, in a huff of boredom and aggravation, you slammed the book down into the dingy comforter, deciding to take a look around the room now that you felt like a true prisoner. The wood-paneled walls were lined with old posters and photographs, while there was only enough room for one chest of drawers and a bedside table. You sat up a bit, deciding that if you were going to be stuck in here, you would at least take a look around at your captor’s belongings. You stood, admiring the various faces of his apparent idols…Hendrix, Neil Young, Tears for Fears, The Police…quite the selection.

The shelf on his dresser was lined with photos, some of him as a kid, one of him and Danny as teenagers, one of Ace and a dog, and one of him and his mom. It struck you, how much he looked exactly like his dad in the photo upstairs, and how much he also looked exactly like his mother. Where he had his dad’s mouth and stature, he most definitely had his mother’s eyes. “Wow…” you whispered as you took the photo in. She was holding him on her lap, he had to have barely been two. You began to wonder where she was, what happened to her, and why he hasn’t mentioned much about his family.

But come to think of it, neither had Danny.

—

JAKE POV

You let out the breath you were holding as your gun settled into the waistband of your jeans. It’s cold on your skin, harsh and metallic, yet easily concealed under the confines of your t-shirt. You hope you won’t need it, but you’d rather have it than not. You laugh a little, remembering the look on her face as you crawled towards her. So nervous, so wild. You click your tongue on the back of your teeth and huff another laugh. You could smell the remnants of her cinnamon candy on her breath as you hovered over her, silently commending her on her good taste as you pulled away and excused yourself. You took that wild energy with you as you left, hoping it would give you what you needed to get through this game.

As you stepped back into the kitchen you saw Daniel leaning against the countertop with his arms crossed across his chest. He’d taken the time to change as well, pulling his hair back to rest at the back of his neck. His eyes flick to yours as you emerge from the hallway.

“She fine?” he asks, nodding towards your bedroom.

“Yeah. She’s fine. Probably need to feed her though. Hasn’t eaten since this mornin’ and she’s a little jumpy.” you answer, wondering what you even had that you could give her to eat.

“Think she’d eat a sandwich?” he asks, turning to open the fridge.

“Think she’ll eat what she’s given, or go hungry. Her choice.” you quip back, walking to gather up a collection of glasses, setting them out on the table. He sends you a nod, pulling a few things from the fridge and placing them on the counter.

“We got the money?” he asks a little hesitantly. You could tell it was weighing on him as his eyes darted around the room. It had been a slow month, but you knew to save a little more for this exact reason.

“Yeah we got the fuckin’ money, but it’s only been three weeks since the last game for fucks sake. We’re lucky old man Anderson needed that carburetor or we’d be fucked.” you snap, “I’m going to get it now, just…make her that sandwich and get it to her before they get here.”

You walk through the kitchen and back out to the garage, running up the metal steps towards the safe. You sit in the rolling chair and bend over, spinning the combination lock in the correct sequence until it clicks. You pull the cash you need, feeling a wave of anger wash over you as you look up towards the ceiling. “This is your fucking fault.” you seethe, slamming the safe door and pushing up out of the chair.

You shut off the lights in the garage, and make your way back into the house slamming the door behind you as you place the money on the counter. Daniel places the sandwich on a paper plate, turning and filling a solo cup with water from the sink. “Sun’s down.” he says, looking out the kitchen window.

“I know, go take that and come back out, we need to have a drink so we don’t look so goddamn anxious.” you say, watching him walk off with the plate as he nods.

You snatch a bottle of half drank whiskey off the counter, pouring it into one of the glass cups on the table, shooting it back as you watch him open the door to your bedroom. You wonder what she’s doing in there. You know that book won’t occupy her for long. You try to remember if there is anything in there she shouldn’t see, but you also don’t give a fuck. You don’t have nothin’ to hide.

You refill the glass and a minute or so later Daniel emerges from your bedroom with a stifled grin. You curse under your breath and shake your head as you grab another glass and pour the whiskey in. You slide it across the table as he approaches, snatching it up and tipping it to his lips. “Heard a car pull up.” he says, drinking down the rest of it.

“You got some protection?” you ask lowly. His eyes flick to yours as he pulls up the side of his shirt revealing his pistol.

“Okay, good. Grab the door.” you instruct letting your eyes flick down towards the hallway. “Fuck I hope she stays in there.” you gripe, standing from the chair to grab the poker chips.

“She will.” he smirked, heading towards the front door.

—

Your eyes flicked down to the cards in your hands trying your best not to show your disappointment. You set them down on the felt topper, pulling a cigarette from the pack, and lighting it with the flick of your zippo. Your eyes glanced over to Daniel, and you could just tell by his posture that he was harboring a shit hand, too. You were both tanking, badly. The guys across from you were murmuring to each other with shit eating grins as they played their cards, sipping from their drinks and smoking their cigars. Fucking pricks.

You hated this shit. You hated poker, you always had. Your dad taught you when you were young, too young probably. Said you’d need the skill one day, and fuck him for being right. But maybe if he had been a better player you wouldn’t be in this spot right now. Maybe he wouldn’t have done what he did. The pressure to win these games was suffocating, all of it riding on you and Daniel. You’d gotten lucky the past few games, winning the pot before immediately turning it over to Teddy. What a joke. But tonight you weren’t sure you had luck on your side. Your shit hand combined with Daniel’s, along with the woman hiding out in your bedroom had you feeling anything but lucky. There was a reason there was a weapon under your shirt.

You tossed back your drink and tamped out your cigarette butt as play rounded the table. Your eyes flick to Daniel to see what his next move will be, hoping he has a trick up his sleeve, but you see him swallow and you know he’s out. He sucked his teeth as his eyes met Teddy’s.

“I fold.” Danny said, his voice full of disappointment.

“God damnit.” You muttered under your breath as Danny flipped his cards down, scooting his chair put and leaning it back. You looked down at your hand, seeing that it wasn’t going to get you anywhere, either. You ran your hand over your face, knowing that you had to figure something out, and quick.

“Awww, youngin’ throwin’ in so early? We’ve barely gotten started.” Teddy reached out and tapped his fat cigar onto the ashtray, laughing hard and loud as he stuck the wet end back between his teeth. His comrades laughed along, peering out from underneath their low-brimmed hats.

Among all the people at the table, Teddy was the shadiest of them all. A big man, more in stature than in weight. Most people called him Fridge, because one time during a bar fight, he lifted up a whole refrigerator to knock a guy out. Teddy was the head honcho of the crew that worried you the most, always using his big mouth and his big ego to scare people into doing whatever he wanted. And it worked. He had his hands in nearly everything around town, controlled more than just owning the laundromat downtown. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that laundromat was used for laundering more than just clothes.

His posse was small, but they were close-knit, the same three guys stayed by his side at almost all times. Teddy took another swig of his flask, not trusting you and Danny enough to drink what you’d provided. You glanced around to the other 10 or so men playing, taking in each of their facial expressions as you studied their poker faces.

Clancy, an older gentleman who always brought his brother John along… They normally stayed pretty quiet, and that’s always what irked you the most. Bird and Joey were hot heads, a set of friends that reminded you a lot of you and Danny, but twenty years in the future. Bird liked to talk a lot of shit, just like Teddy did, and 9 times out of 10, them always trying to one-up the other is usually what set these games going south in a hurry. And now that Danny had folded, you were in it alone. Save for Bubba, of course.

The new face that had decided to grace your presence tonight was a stout middle aged man, dressed just like he’d emerged from the 1940’s; a slick long black jacket, a vest underneath, and a derby hat that looked like it was steam cleaned weekly. He had stayed fairly quiet the whole game, acting as though he was just taking everything in. But his demeanor was confident…the man knew every character at this table was taking him in, too.

Your nerves were shot, the liquor wasn’t nearly enough to take the edge off, and you felt your blood begin to boil as Teddy continued his verbal assault on everyone that he could. His voice was just…grating. And it never let up.

“On that note, I gotta piss. Let’s take five, eh?” Teddy suggested as he stood from his chair, his posse mumbling and standing along with him. You were glad he did, you felt like you were going to punch something if he said another fucking word about anything.

You made a quick glance to Bubba to get his attention, then proceeded to close your eyes for a prolonged 3 seconds. When you opened them, you found him looking back, with the same straight laced grin he gave everyone.

Be careful, Bubba. Here goes nothin’…

The entire drunken group stood and made their way through the narrow passage and out the back door to the abandoned vehicle lot, standing around in their respective groups to talk and smoke. You brought up the rear, and barrelled through the door, letting it slam against the wall as your eyes searched for Danny in the darkness. Finally you spotted him in a cloud of smoke around the back corner of the building.

“What the fuck!” You slammed his shoulders against the metal wall, watching as his facial expression immediately hardened. “Folding on the second fucking hand? Are you even trying?”

He bounced off the wall and shoved you back, making you kick up a little dust with your heels. “Do you think I fucking wanted to, Jake? I had a fucking 3-5 hand, no god damn way I was gonna win anything on that. And keep your fuckin’ hands off me…”

He shoved you again in a backwards act of repentance, which made you even more enraged than you were before. Your mind went fuzzy with it all, having to play the rest of this game by yourself, having to deal with Teddy and these guys, and also having to host this god damn game whenever he saw fit. Lately it didn’t seem like you ran your own life, but that it was running you.

You glanced around, seeing the crowd slowly making their way over, but no Bubba.

“Maybe if you got to work on time and worked a little harder we wouldn’t fuckin’ be in this mess.” He mumbled.

Oh, don’t even.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He threw his smoke to the ground, pushing his back off the wall and bucking up to you. “It means, that lately it seems like I’m the only one getting shit done around here. Movin’ shit in and out of the place. Fuck Jake, you’ve been rebuilding the same damn motor for weeks.”

“Fuck you, don’t tell me how to run my own god damn business.” You spat back, your face craned up and within inches of his. “I can change the locks faster than you can fuckin’ count to three.” You shoved him again, basically asking for it at this point.

“You wanna fuckin’ bet?” He was shoulder checking you now, and you felt it coming. The same way it always did. You couldn’t stop your left hook from rolling up from the bottom, popping him right in the cheek. It was seconds before he retaliated, his strong right fist bouncing off the side of your skull. From there, it continued. You exchanged blows, back and forth while you scuffled to the ground, laying hits to each others’ ribs as the dirt turned to dust around you.

Before long, all of the guys had heard the commotion and came running to see the show. Both of you back on your feet now, fists raised and ready to box. “Come on, you son of a bitch, you wanna do this now? Let’s go…” Danny muttered as he hopped lightly on his feet, egging you on.

You lurched forward, getting Danny one good time in a spot that you knew would piss him off, right in the temple. You continued exchanging hits left and right, even bringing the fight to a little bit of unfairness, using your knees to bring each other down even more. The cheers that had surrounded you were muffled now, all you could hear were your ears ringing and your blood pumping. You knew your nose was probably bleeding, and your muscles were on fire with adrenaline.

“Alright, alright boys! God damnit, stop!” You heard Bubba’s voice come between you, making the two of you step away from each other. “What the hell is wrong with you? We’re in the middle of a damn game! Back inside, all of yeh.” He commanded as the group dispersed, everyone heading back into the shop.

You felt Teddy’s giant hand hit the back of your neck, wincing at the snap of pain he inflicted. “Little Jacob, the two of you just can’t keep your hands off each other, can ya?” He bellowed a harsh, smoke-filled laugh as his minions echoed him. You glanced through the corner of your eye to see the unfamiliar face, puffing on a pipe of his own with the other hand in his pocket, his eyes squinted at you as you walked along.

—

HER POV

You pulled yourself away from the window, listening to the scuffle happening just beyond it. You recognized Danny’s voice, his bellowing timbre easily distinguishable. You wondered who he was fighting, and why he was fighting. You realize now why they stashed you in here, but that didn’t make you any less nervous. After a few minutes the yelling died off and you figured the fight was probably over, your mind racing wondering if Danny was okay, and how the other guy must have looked.

You paced around the room trying to slow your heart rate, the small room not giving you much space. You paused as you met the dresser, noticing a stack of items, books mostly. Your eyes traveled over the stack wondering if these items would give you any type of insight to the man who occupied this room. Your eyes caught a soft back book, buried deep under a pile of notebooks on the dresser. It had a green cover, and a photo of a school on the front. The top of the cover, in bright white lettering, read ‘St. James Elementary School, 1965’. Oh my god, you were probably in this. You began flipping through the black and white pages, seeing a few barely familiar faces here and there as you read about the various activities the school partook in that year.

You knew you’d left halfway through this exact year, but you vaguely remembered your last picture day at this school. Sure enough, a few pages later, you found your photograph amongst the rest of your classmates. You’d never seen this photo of yourself before. You were tiny, only 9 and in the third grade. Your hair was a frazzled mess, the collar of your shirt flipped up and crinkled. You smiled, remembering the good old days. A few pages back showed you 6-year-old Danny, and a few forward a ten-year-old Jake, his right arm wrapped in a cast from falling out of the Sycamore tree.

You looked at the sandwich that sat on the dresser, still contemplating whether or not you really wanted to eat it. Going with your starving gut, you forced it down. Danny did make it for you, after all.

As you swallowed the last bite, you heard a loud crash come from the other side of the wall, what sounded like a beer bottle smashing against the wall, and shattering. It was followed up by the muffled sounds of yelling voices, more slams and more screeches…it was getting so loud that you started to panic. You tried to tune it out, push it away, and after a few minutes it quieted, only to return again with a vengeance.

Are they okay? Is Bubba there?

You needed a distraction.

You looked across the floor, noticing an old tattered book lying by the dresser. Its cover was torn and oily from Jake’s hands; he must love this one. It made your heart skip a beat that he likes to read, and could recite poetry, given that it didn’t fit his outright personality in the least.

You let yourself get lost in the pages, using the story to distract yourself from the loud noises happening just thirty feet away. The last time you’d glanced at your watch, it was after 1am, and you felt your eyes getting heavy.

Damn, you could really use a shower and a pair of pajamas right now. But instead, you kicked off your shoes and jeans, folding them in a pile on the floor. You pulled the bedsheets back, finding them slightly stained, but clean nonetheless. Probably just as clean as the motel sheets if you were honest. The immediate smell of Jake’s Brut aftershave filled your senses, and you found yourself taking in the scent of him as you wrapped yourself in his sheets. You could smell his hair, his musk of his skin, the lingering scent of oil and the remnants of the laundry detergent he used sparingly. It felt strange, being in someone else’s bed, but at this point, you didn’t dare run away to the chaos that was happening outside the door. You felt safe in here, strangely enough, in this perfect stranger’s bedroom.

The only thing that would be better, was if Danny had stashed you in his room, instead.

——

JAKE POV

You glanced over to the flashing clock on the microwave, 3:58am. The sun would be coming up soon, and you knew they weren’t leaving until the game was won. You had it though. You knew you had it, thanks to Bubba. How the fuck he pulled it off unseen you aren’t sure. Your little diversion with Daniel must have worked. You could feel your eye swelling as you blinked through the pain, a headache setting in deep in your head as the play rounded the table to you.

With nervous hands you laid your cards out on the table, licking your lips as you spoke, “Four of a kind.” Your eyes flicked up to Teddy as a sick grin crossed his face.

“The boys’ done it again, folks.” he shouted, causing everyone to lay their losing hands out on the table, sending you dirty looks. They all start to push away from the table, throwing their money into the center before storming off through the front door.

The game was over, and you by some miracle, had won.

Teddy stayed seated at the table, crossing his arms behind his head as he stared at you with a disgusting smile. You grabbed your portion of the money and added it to the pile, waiting until the others were out the door before pushing it forward to him. His minions began gathering the cash into a bag, as Teddy sat sipping the last of the whiskey straight from the bottle.

“You know boy, your father’d be proud of yeh.” he said, his voice grating at your every nerve.

“My father left me to clean up his fucking mess.” you said, standing from the table as they loaded the last of the cash. You walked over to the sink as Daniel stood from the table. “Good game. Thanks.” he said, disappearing down the hallway.

Teddy stood and patted you on the back, tamping out his cigar in your kitchen sink, “You have a nice night now, ya hear?” and with that he and his shadows made their way out of your front door.

“God fucking damnit.” you breathed, letting out the breath you’d been holding for what felt like most of the night.

Daniel reemerges from the hallway, beginning to collect glasses from the table. “The fuck was all that about?” he asks, clearly knowing you picked that fight on purpose.

“I had to. I was about to fold. Thank god they called a break.” you paused, turning to look at his swollen cheek. “Bubba…”

“Yeah, I know.” he said, placing the glasses on the counter. He walks back over to the table to start cleaning up the poker chips, a small laugh leaving his chest. “A little warning would’ve been nice.”

You smirk, and nod. “Needed to be believable. Worked didn’t it?”

He laughs again, “This time. We’re kind of shit at poker, you know?”

“Fuckin’ terrible.” you said, shaking your head with a smile.

“She good in there?” he asks, leaning on the doorframe.

“Don’t know. Haven’t been in there. Haven’t seen or heard anything, thank god. Assume she’s asleep.” you shrug.

“You sleepin’ in there?” he asks, tongue in his cheek.

“As opposed to where?” you question.

“Don’t fuckin’ know, just a question.” he snaps back.

“Suppose I am then. All two hours. Fuckin’ head is pounding though so maybe not.” you tout.

He nods his head and disappears down the hallway again, hitting the lightswitch as he walks. You hear his bedroom door shut leaving you to the quiet house filled with dissipating smoke. You grab a beer from the fridge, and take a seat at the table, dropping your head into your hands. How the fuck did I end up here pops? Why’d you do this to me? To us? We’re barely making it.

You pop the lid off the bottle and bring it to your lips letting the cold liquid glide down your throat, hoping to quell the hunger in your stomach for another night. Your eyes flick over to your bedroom door. The light is off, and you wonder if she’s asleep. She was in there so long… she probably had to piss. Fuck how did this happen?

You tightened your fist, feeling the pain settling in. Your skin felt tight and grimey and you could feel the blood on your face. You swallowed down the rest of the beer, tossing the bottle into the trashcan as you made your way to the front door. You pulled it open checking to make sure no one was lingering before locking it up for the night, heading towards the bathroom.

You flicked the shower handle on, knowing it would be a few minutes before it warmed up. You quickly ran your toothbrush over your teeth as you stripped out of your clothes, setting your gun on the bathroom counter. You took notice of just how disgusting your bathroom was, but shit it was only you and Danny. Why did you care?

You wet your razor and dragged it harshly against your skin, for a quick dry shave. You stepped into the shower, letting the hot water rinse away the grease and grime the best it could. You snatched the green soap from the ledge and lathered your body, the sting catching you off guard as you ran your soapy hands over the cut on your face. You washed your hair as quickly as you could, knowing that your sleeping hours were growing shorter by the second. You flicked the handle off and grabbed your towel from the bar, running it over yourself and wrapping it around your waist. You slapped on a little bit of aftershave and ran your fingers through your hair, before deciding you’d spent long enough in the bathroom.

You grabbed your gun and turned off the light, crossing the hallway to your closed door, pausing for a second with unease about what you were about to walk into. You quietly twisted the knob and found that your window was cracked open, letting a breeze flow through the room. Your eyes traveled towards your bed finding Y/N in a dead sleep beneath your sheets. You swallowed hard at the image of her asleep on your pillow, completely unable to conjure a memory of the last time you let a girl sleep in your bed, because quite frankly, you didn’t do that.

You set the gun on the dresser, pulling open the top drawer to fish out a pair of boxers, dropping your towel and sliding them onto your legs. You picked up the towel and ran it through your hair again, before throwing it over your closet door. You grabbed your gun and set it on the nightstand as quietly as you could, trying not to wake her. You went to grab the sheets, but stopped yourself. Should you? No. You push the sheets over to the side to see your book laying open beneath them. You huff a laugh through your nose, a small smile crossing your lips at the thought of her laying in here reading your favorite book while you were trying not to get the shit beat out of you just thirty feet away.

You grabbed it and placed it on the nightstand, seeing she made a substantial dent, before sliding into the bed next to her. It almost felt wrong sleeping without blankets but you didn’t want to cross a line. She probably didn’t even consider that you would sleep in here either. Danny didn’t.

You tried to settle yourself as softly as you could, really trying to avoid the awkward interaction when really you just wanted to sleep. She rolled a little bit as the bed dipped down, her bare leg peeking out from the dark sheets. Your eyes traveled the expanse of exposed skin, remembering that earlier she was in jeans. Your eyes flicked to the floor seeing them folded in a neat pile at the foot of the bed. Fuck me, shes half naked too. Fuck.

You let out a sigh and placed your hands behind your head, letting your mind swirl with thoughts as you tried to will them to slow down enough to let you close your eyes. A soft noise leaves her lips, a gentle hum as she pulls the blanket up towards her face. You turn to look at her, and you swear you can almost smell her shampoo if you think about it hard enough, letting a tingle slide through your body at the unfamiliar fragrance. You turn on your side just watching her for a minute, the way her lips are slightly parted and her eyes are darting around. You wonder what she’s dreaming about. You wonder if she’s scared. Although if she was truly scared, would she have fallen asleep so comfortably in your bed?

Her skin glows in the dim light peeking through the window. You want to touch her. You resist the urge as a breeze drifts through the room causing a few strands of her hair to fly across her face. She’s sort of pretty now that you can look at her for a few minutes. Her hair, so shiny and smooth, her lashes so long and thick, her hands so small and clean as they rest next to her mouth. Actually, she’s really pretty. Maybe even beautiful. Your hand lifts and draws near to her cheek, her skin looks so soft you think maybe if you could just touch it one time you would be satiated enough to fall asleep, but you quickly retract it knowing this is not right. She wouldn’t want this. You’re fairly certain she has a thing for Daniel, or so it seemed, and Daniel didn’t seem too happy with the thought of the two of you sleeping together.

Her foot moves, her toes barely grazing your leg, sliding through your leg hair causing you to swallow quickly at the sensation. You want her to do it again. Touch me. Please. Do it again. But instead you move your leg away. Your brain is screaming out for the touch of someone else. To feel a touch that isn’t rough and aggressive. Something soft and gentle. Something like her.

It’s been some time since you’d been this intrigued by a woman, and you aren’t quite sure why, or how she’s managed to do it in just two days. You want to know her. You want to touch her; feel her skin on yours. You want to step inside the mind of this poem loving, free spirited, firecracker of a woman that stumbled into your shop. You want to do all of that and more, but you can’t. She’s his, or atleast wants to be.

You roll to your stomach, letting your wet hair fall over your back as you tuck your arm under your pillow. Your eyes are trained on her, slowly blinking closed as you struggle to focus on her dark silhouette, wondering how you’re going to get her out of the mess she’d walked into.

—

HER POV

It was the strong smell of Jake that woke you, his scent of aftershave and soap drifting across your nose in your early morning, half-asleep state. Before you open your eyes, you force your mind to think about last night, what happened, and where you had ended up.

Jake’s bed. Safe and sound.

You peeled one eye open to a sight that made your breath catch in your lungs. Jake was lying on his stomach next to you, one hand under his pillow, the other curled up underneath him. You smiled a little; you hadn’t seen him in this state of vulnerability yet. It was like his hardened exterior didn’t even exist in this peaceful state. His pink lips were parted, the tiniest wisp of air escaping through them. His eyelids moved back and forth while he dreamed, and you couldn’t help but notice that his hair was just a little bit damp from his apparent shower earlier. He looked clean.

Once your senses began to come to life, you heard the faint sound of rustling out in the bay, most likely Danny getting his day started already. You sat up a bit and noticed that Jake was lying on top of the comforter, no blanket at all to cover his sleeping body. Why didn’t he get underneath? Wasn’t he cold? And upon closer examination, you noticed that he had a black eye…busted lip and cheek…bruised hand? What the fuck?

Was it him fighting Danny last night?

Couldn’t have been…

You maneuvered yourself a little bit in the bed to stretch, pulling yourself out from underneath the covers. It woke him just enough to turn over, and when he flipped, his hand barely brushed your hip, his fingertips lingering just above your pantyline.

This should not be sending your stomach into a fit of excitement like it is, fuck.

You glanced down to see his tattoo-covered fingertips resting gently on you with the background of your baby pink panties behind them. His fingertips weren’t rough and calloused, but more toughened and strong. His fingers tightened their grip and jerked every few seconds, the tiny movements making your mind think thoughts it shouldn’t be. Something about the scene looked all too kinky, and you rolled your eyes at the visual, committing it to memory. His fingers burned into your skin and you briefly wondered if it would feel that way all the time.

Suddenly the music in the bay got ten times louder, and you knew that it was Danny telling Jake to get the fuck out of bed. Jake’s eyes opened as fast as lightning as he got his bearings, rolling his tongue over his teeth as he wet his mouth. When he noticed you were there, it was like all his memories found him again in the blink of an eye. He blinked to you, offering you a tiny smile before he noticed where his hand was still sitting.

When he did, he ripped it away. “Fuck, sorry.” He rolled away, the snake tattoo running down his back catching your eye a little more now as you could see the cascading scales up closely.

“It’s okay.” You murmured, feeling his embarrassment. You rolled from the bed too, feeling somewhat uncaring of the fact that he essentially just saw you in your panties. Oh fuckin’ well. You stood and walked to the end of the mattress and found your jeans, shaking them out as you stood before Jake, still sitting perched on his side of the bed.

He cleared his throat and looked away before standing and grabbing a random shirt from the floor. He quickly yanked it over his head, searching for a pair of jeans and once he found them he slid them on quickly and made his way toward the door, leaving you getting dressed all alone.

“Sorry I fell asleep here…I could’ve slept on a couch, or something…” you muttered, jumping a little as you slowly pulled the tight denim jeans over your thighs.

You watched as he caught himself watching you, snapping himself from the scene before clearing his throat again. “Um, it’s fine. Thanks for hiding out. We um… We don’t have a couch…”

“Oh…” you breathed, buttoning your jeans.

He stood nodding, his bottom lip bitten hard between his teeth as he fought himself to look at you.

“Well.” He turned, without another word, and made his way back out. You gave him a second before you followed him out, wanting to pee and rinse your morning breath away with a bead of toothpaste and your finger. When you made it to the bathroom, though, you were met with Jake again, standing and brushing his teeth in the mirror. “Sorry.” You apologized, turning to stand with your back against the wall of the hallway.

It was mere seconds before he stepped out into the hall, toothbrush still in his mouth, and motioned for you to go ahead and take the bathroom. “I’ll rinse in the kitchen.” You gave him a quick smile before ducking away to do your business.

After a minute you emerged, opening the door to find Jake pulling on his coveralls, a cigarette hanging from his lips already. “Why don’t you have any soap in your bathroom?” You asked, wiping your hands on your jeans from the water-wash.

He looked at you with one eye, shrugging his shoulders as he pulled his hair back into a low bun. He picked the cigarette from his mouth as he exhaled the smoke into the air, a tiny wisp of hair falling in his face. “Look around. Does it look like we wash much of anything ‘round here?”

Without another word, he walked back through the door to the bay, and you let the smoke of his cigarette hit your face as you followed him.

“Ohhhh, goodmorning, you two! How did you sleep?!” Danny yelled out across the bay overtop of a loud Lynyrd Skynyrd song. “Actually, wait. Don’t answer that. Spare me the dirty details, I don’t need a visual.”

“Fuck you, Danny.” You spat at him before you could even stop yourself. You heard Jake chuckle under his breath. “There are no dirty details.”

“Oh, that’s right! Jake actually took a shower last night. Guess they wouldn’t be too dirty, would they?” Danny quipped back.

Jake sighed, pinching his nose. “Daniel, it’s too fucking early, and your music’s too fuckin’ loud, and my head hurts too fucking bad from your cheap shot to my skull last night. Can you please pipe the fuck down.” Jake chirped as he stood up on the top step of his ladder.

“Hmm, I would, but it looks like you already did the piping last night, eh Y/N?” Danny said through a shit-eating grin. Your jaw dropped at his insinuation, but it was also kind of amusing.

“Daniel I swear to fuckin’ god if you don’t stop it, we’re going back out to the parking lot.” Jake yelled, throwing a handful of nuts and bolts at Danny. “You’ll be the one getting a damn black eye this time, you asshole.”

Danny had ducked behind the vehicle he was working on to avoid the flying metal, laughing as he stood back up unscathed. “Fuckin’ try it, Jake!”

You watched as Jake bit his cheeks in, trying like hell to talk himself out of jumping off the ladder and launching himself toward Danny’s waiting threat.

“Nah, actually, you know what?” Danny slammed his rag down on the opened hood of the car. “I’ve already been at work for two hours. I’m taking an early lunch. Y/N, you want breakfast? It’s omelet day at Louie’s. My treat.” He began pulling his arms from the sleeves of his coveralls, and tying them around his waist.

“Uh, sure, I…I guess.” You answered, scared to say no. “We taking Ruby?”

“Oh, there’s my girl. Ready to hop back on and ride…” Danny sucked his teeth as he walked toward you, tossing you the key to his bike. “You can handle it this morning, right Jake? Your own fucking business?”

You glanced to Jake as he distracted himself with his head buried deep in the guts of a Chevy, not bothering to look your way.

Danny wrapped his arm around your neck as he turned you around, shuffling you out the door. “Bye Jake, don’t wait up!”

——

DANNY POV

Noooonono. No way he is making his way into your territory like this. Not this time.This is your turf.

You and Y/N rounded the corner of the building to the wide awning out back where you kept your various motorcycles and important parts, and of course, Ruby. Y/N tossed the keys back to you as you straddled the back of the bike, scooting forward as you started it up and revved the engine loud, mostly to get on Jake’s nerves.

You held your hand out, palm up, over your shoulder, waiting for Y/N to grab it as she slid in behind you. When she got comfortable, and her entire front was pressed against your back, you kicked the stand and took off.

God, the chemistry you felt every time you were around this girl was making your head spin. She made you feel different, made you feel like you’d ditch your little black book of phone numbers, made you think about never wanting to take another woman home from the bar ever again. She gave you that tiny feeling in the pit of your stomach that you couldn’t explain any other way, other than excitement. And it was growing every day.

It felt good to have her all to yourself again, and even after the chaos and calamity of last night, and her ultimately having to stay in Jake’s room, you knew deep down that they probably didn’t hook up…you didn’t think so, at least.

And if they really didn’t, Jake had a lot more self-control than you thought he did.

You felt her hands squeeze around your stomach as you rounded the curve a little faster than she was used to, earning a little laugh from you. You felt the strands of her hair tickling the backs of your shoulders as the morning sun shone down, and you were itching to get her to the next destination, so you could get her as alone as possible.

But first, breakfast.

“The western omelet is my favorite, but also you can’t go wrong with three-cheese.” You advised Y/N as Geraldine poured the hot coffee directly from the glass carafe.

“Honey we can make ya whatever ya want, just say the word.” You watched as Geraldine shot her a sweet wink.

“The western omelet sounds great, thank you ma’am.” Y/N smiled back as she sipped her coffee.

“I’ll take you back to your motel after this, so you can not feel like a prisoner for a little while.” You told her, stirring the sugar into your coffee.

“Shit, you don’t know how happy I am to hear you say that. I feel like I’ve had the same clothes on for weeks.” She sighed hard and her face lit up.

“You’ve been here for like, three days, Y/N.” You teased with a wink.

“God, you’re right…and so much shit has already happened! Maybe this actually is where my adventure was supposed to occur.”

You furrowed your brow. “What adventure?”

She cleared her throat as she readjusted herself in her seat. “Remember when you asked me what I was running from?”

You nodded.

“Well, I kinda was running, kinda not. My fiancé and I had just broken up, and I set out looking for a big life adventure, ya know. I never got to go out and do the things I really wanted to do, be wild for a bit. See more than just little old Salvation.”

“…And you found yourself right back here in fuckin’ Joslyn.” You added.

“Ugh, yeah.” She rested her chin in her hands. “Atlanta feels so far away now…” she was staring out the window, watching two birds fight over a discarded French fry.

You pulled her hands down, taking them in yours. “But you’re at least getting to experience the adventure part, right?”

A sly smile shot across her lips as she bit them in. “Yeah, it’s definitely been a ride so far.” She squeezed your palms. Fuck, she makes your heart beat fast.

“What other things did you hope to experience on this life-changing trip?” You added, craning an eyebrow and releasing her hands.

“Well, I wanted to meet new people, make some friends…I wanted to swim in a river, climb to the top of the highest mountain in every state I visited, just so I can say I did. I wanted to try new foods, go dancing, visit farmers markets and eat tomatoes right off the vines down south…I wanted to go wild. I hadn’t…my life had been so cookie-cutter for so many years, I didn’t get to enjoy it. My formative years, ya know? Sow my oats…” her tongue clicked at that last part, instantly making your dick jump. You knew exactly what she meant.

You felt like you wanted to jump across the table. “All of those things sound like a lot of fun, Y/N. I hope you get to do them all one day…” your voice was flat, your heart rate picking up with each passing second. You don’t know why, but at that very second, you wanted to give her each and every one of the things she listed, and more. You wanted to help her. Be there with her to live out her forgotten dreams.

“I hope I do too, Danny…” her eyes were bored into yours, her look soaking deep into your bones like no other woman had before. Fuck.

After a long pause, she spoke again. “Will you walk me into my room when we get back? Check it out…? After last night, I…”

“Absolutely. I’ll walk you in. And I’ll fix your television.”

“How did you know it was broken?” She seemed surprised.

“Noticed when I picked you up the other night. And nothing ever fucking works at that shit hole.” You explained. She smiled, a genuine smile that was begging you to keep going, keep talking to her, keep asking her about her life.

So you did. Until breakfast was over, and it was time to leave. You paid Geraldine, and she waved you off with a wrapped-up biscuit for Jake. He’d get it later.

The ride back to the motel was way more intense than the ride to Louie’s; it was almost as if her hands were burning holes in your skin. You held your left hand on her thigh just like you had before, squeezing it in all the right places. The confidence she had the first night you rode came back full-force. Her thumb hooked in your belt, her other fingers hanging right above your groin. Her other hand worked to hold her own hair back from her face, and you wished to God you had a photograph of the two of you right now.

Her free hand drifted around your abdomen, running her fingertips from your back, around your side, and to your stomach again…her legs squeezing together, her hot breath on your shoulder blade…fuck.

“You’re making it really hard for me to concentrate on the road, Miss Thing.” You finally admitted.

“Nooo, you’re a professional. You’re doing just fine.” She said in your ear, the proximity sending a chill down your spine. You swallowed back the lump in your throat, hoping to recenter yourself and conceal what was happening in your jeans.

“Well thank you for the encouragement…”

“Is it helping?” She purred, her lips brushing your ear now.

“Fuck yeah it’s helping, a little too much, actually…” you laughed as you pulled into the parking lot of the motel in front of room #7.

You both hopped off as you kicked the stand, finally facing each other after the whirlwind of a ride in. You watched as she flattened out her wind-blown hair, pulling a few pieces that had slipped into her mouth. You found yourself giggling at how cute she was, making your stomach fill with butterflies just watching her. What is happening?

You watched as she unlocked the door, turning slightly as she pushed it open to invite you in. You took one last look up and down the sidewalk to check your surroundings, and when you felt it was clear, you stepped inside, closing the door behind you.

“It’s just really fuzzy, the picture sometimes comes across, but then it buzzes up again.” She explained as she moved the bunny ears on the top of the TV set.

“Let me take a look.” You waltzed to the TV, pulling it out from its place a little bit and messing with the wires and connections. She stood watching the screen, giving you a play-by-play as you fiddled.

“Oh, there— wait. Nope. Gone again. There! Yes, there!” She squealed when you finally got the picture to stay steady. “Perfect! Leave it right there!”

You stepped away, holding your hands up as if it would screw up again if you moved too fast. But there it was, the perfect picture on the old 70’s model screen.

“Yes, thank you Danny!” She brought both hands around your neck in a tight, excited embrace, laying the sweetest kiss right to your cheek before stepping away again. Wow.

“I’m gonna hop in the shower, if you don’t care to hang out? I’ll only be a second…” she explained as she took her earrings out, laying them neatly on the bathroom sink.

“Take your time, Jake will be fine. I’ll wait.” You responded, knowing that Jake probably did owe you a little personal time. You made yourself comfortable on the bed while she slipped into the bathroom. You removed your coveralls and boots and laid back down. After about 15 minutes of some shotty version of the news, you heard the bathroom door click open, revealing Y/N wrapped up in two terry cloth towels.

Shit…take your eyes off her…

She was snooping around in her suitcase on the opposite bed, obviously making a scene out of showing off a little leg for you.

“Maybe I should have joined you in the shower, you smell phenomenal.” You quipped, trying to lean into the flirting again.

“It was just whatever was laying on the counter, here. But yeah, maybe you should’ve…” She giggled, pulling her hair from the towel. She was absolutely fucking gorgeous, and she was cutting away at your heartstrings, one by one. You sat up on the bed when she came to sit beside you, and you were dying to kiss her, touch her, anything at all to feel her near you again.

She was holding the towel together between her breasts, her legs curled up underneath her as she moved her body in toward you.

“How about I join you next time?” You asked as she brought her face close to yours, your noses brushing just barely. Your heart was flying out of your chest…you could taste her breath on your tongue.

“I’ll hold you to that…” she whispered, moving her lips to brush yours just barely. You leaned in, wanting to feel more of her….the barely-there kiss wasn’t nearly enough. You took her chin between your fingers, almost like you’d done a couple nights ago before you left her a panting mess.

You let yourselves breathe together, your breath mixing together as you held yourselves back from what you really, really wanted to do. It was killing you, not ravishing her entire, dripping body, right here, right now. Fuck…Y/N…

“Will you just fucking kiss me already, Danny?” She breathed out, smiling through her words as she said them.

That was all it took, you let yourself crash into her, your lips finally connecting in a fury. It was hot, but not rushed; you allowed yourselves time to explore a bit before diving in head first. Her lips were sweet and spicy, like a familiar candy you couldn’t place. And soft and smooth, and delicious…

She finally opened her mouth a bit to let you in more, her tongue barely brushing your lip before pushing in all the way, searching for yours. You let her find it, connecting them together in what felt like a meeting you’d been waiting for for years. She tasted even sweeter once you began deepening the kiss, both of you fighting the urge to let your hands begin to wander. You finally remembered to breathe, letting your lungs fill as your lips tingled, your eyes opening and flitting closed again as you watched her kiss you back.

Her hand was still gripping her towel, while her other rested on your upper thigh, fingertips slowly digging in every few seconds as your bodies became more comfortable with each other. Suddenly she pulled away, her eyes meeting yours in a flustered fury. “God damn, you’re a good kisser.” She blurted out.

“Really?” You laughed.

“Yeah, yessss...you’re a very good kisser.” She touched her fingertips to her lips like she could feel you there still, her cheeks pink and flustered as she did so. You wanted to tell her to drop the fuckin’ towel, get your ass over here and straddle me, let me show you how good of a kisser I really am… but you didn’t. You’d rather move things along at the pace they were going. It was almost fun watching her make her own moves; just like you’d told her, she was a mystery, like a code you wanted to crack…

The next thing you knew, it was like your fantasies were slowly becoming real life. She stood from beside you on the bed, releasing her hold on the towel, letting it fall to the floor. Her naked body stood before you, still a bit damp and blotchy from her hot shower. You felt no shame in letting your eyes rake over her body, biting your lips in as you did so.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous, Y/N…” you said, wringing your hands together in your lap. “I’m speechless…”

She blushed a little, tilting her head to the side as a little bit of hair fell in front of her eye. She pulled it back, slotting it behind her ear. “Thank you, Danny.”

She crawled into the bed behind you, slipping under the covers and pulling them up around her neck. She held her pointer finger up and wiggled it, signaling for you to come with her.

Don’t gotta ask me twice.

“I’m still a little dirty from work, baby…”

“Then go wash your hands and get back here…” she urged.

And you did. Really, really well. You splashed some water on your face, and even up your arms a bit. You rushed back into the room, stopping short of the bed to rip your t-shirt from your body. You lifted the sheets back to lay down next to her, your hands finding each other's bodies almost instantly. Your mouths met each other’s with a quickness again, your hands in such a flurried mess you could hardly tell which way was up, and which was down.

Her hands tangled in your long curls, and your hands wrapped around her barren thighs with so much force you thought you might leave bruises. She was fuckin’ perfect…

She pulled you in by the hair, the swift action making your dick twitch again. You felt her tits pressed against your chest as you kissed her, making you growl with anticipation. You reached under her leg, pulling her closer so it hitched over your hip. You tried to pull the visual that her legs were spread wide across your lap, just barely out of view under the sheets.

Her light moans and whines were killing you, and the more you pulled on each other's skin, the more you couldn’t stand it anymore. You had to have her.

“I’m havin’ a really hard time not touchin’ you the way I want to, Y/N…” you breathed once as you came up for air.

“How do you wanna touch me?” She asked, making your brain feel like it was fried.

You craned your body up to hover over her, watching her chest rise and fall as she caught her breath. Her hand lifted up to wipe the sheen of sweat that had started to collect on your forehead, making you feel like you wanted to come undone already.

You balanced, using one hand to gently touch her face… “Here…then here…” you let your single fingertip trace down her cheek, then her neck, then down to round off her tit. She bucked up, her hips lifting from the bed at your light touch.

“Here…” your finger drifted down the center of her sternum, and down to her stomach, stopping short at her bellybutton. A soft moan escaped her throat, letting you know she was enjoying it, as featherlight as it was. “But mostly…” your finger drifted lower, stopping right above her slit. You brought your lips to hers again, kissing her deeply while leaving your finger a centimeter away from her clit. “Here…”

You both jumped hard at the shrill sound of the room phone ringing, breaking you away from the heated place you’d found yourselves in.

“Fuck!” Y/N yelped, feeling the same immediate frustration as you.

“Just ignore it…” you pleaded.

But she didn’t. She reached over to grab the phone from the receiver, answering it harshly.

“Hello?” She asked, listening as the person on the other end yelled in her ear. Wanda. You could hear every word she was saying. Y/N’s brow furrowed hard as she pulled the phone away from her ear. “Okay, thanks.”

“It’s Wanda. Said she’s gonna connect Jake to you.” She held the phone out for you.

“That motherfucker, I swear. I can’t get one second to myself…” you held it up, listening for it to finish ringing out.

“Daniel.” You heard Jake’s voice come across.

“What, asshole? I’m kind of in the mid—”

“I need you to get back here, ASAP, please.”

“Jake, I’m a little busy, I’ll be back soon.”

“Danny we have a visitor…he brought his bike to be fixed, and I don’t fix bikes.” He cut the sentence there, and you could tell he was moving his body away to talk more privately.

“It’s Joey…and he’s acting really weird, man. He’s snooping around and shit…I know he has at least two weapons on him—”

“Why would he be snooping? We have nothing to hide…from him, at least…” you reasoned.

“No, we don’t. Which is why I’m confused. I think he’s on a recon mission or some shit.” He sighed a deep breath. “Can you please just come diagnose this bike so we can get him the fuck out of here?”

“Yeah, shit. Yeah, I’ll be there soon.”

“Tell her to lock her door and push the dresser in front of it when you leave. Tell her we’ll be back soon once we get this straightened out. This feels weird, Danny. I dunno…” you could hear the strange sound in his voice, and normally his gut was right.

“Alright, give me just a few.” You handed her the phone and she hung it up and placed it back on the table as you grumbled in the bed beside her. “So much for an afternoon delight!”

“What was that about?” She asked as you pulled yourself from the bed.

“I’ve gotta go. Some remnants of last night have trickled over into today, don’t need to leave Jake alone for it.” You pulled on your coveralls and boots as you looked back down to her, naked and alone in the bed.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m sorry. I feel like I keep leaving you high and dry.” You leaned a knee on the bed, taking her cheek in your hand.

“Definitely not fucking dry, if we’re being honest…” she rolled her eyes.

“Fuck…” you laughed, wanting to continue what you started so badly it was killing you. “I need you…I need you to pull the dresser in front of the door when I leave, okay? I’ll explain later, just. Lock the door, don’t let anybody in here. I shouldn’t be long.”

“What? Pull the dresser?! Danny, I’m getting sick of this, why do I need to hide?! I’m trying to get the fuck out of town!” You could tell her blood was boiling already.

“I know, Y/N, but—”

“No buts, Danny. I’m sick of this. I’m a grown woman, I make my own decisions, and you’re treating me like I’m a child you’re not proud of. Hiding me away…” she got up from the bed and made her way to her suitcase, pulling on a large shirt. “Should you leave me a weapon? Am I going to have to fight someone off like you and Jake fought last night?!” She yelled, tears fighting to spring free.

Just then, you heard a few loud engines trucking their way down the road in the direction of the shop. Whether or not they were going there, you weren’t sure, but…

“Listen. Pull the dresser. Lock the door. I will not be long.” You used a little bit of command, walking back to her and taking her face forcefully in your hands. You looked deep in her eyes as you tried to explain it all in 4 seconds, before laying your lips to hers in one last goodbye kiss. “I promise you I’ll explain it all soon. And I’ll come back and finish what we started here, hm? Okay?”

This was so unfair to her.

She ripped her face away, sending you out the door. “Just fuckin’ go.” She sent you the tiniest smirk as you backed out the door, giving you a sliver of hope that maybe she wasn’t entirely done with you and your shit.

“I’ll be back, baby…”

———

“About fuckin’ time.” Jake spat at you as you walked through the metal door.

“Jesus Christ, I got here as soon as I could.” You snapped back as you walked toward Joey and the bike.

“Pretty long fuckin’ breakfast, if you ask me—”

You snapped your head around, stopping Jake in his tracks. “What, are you jealous? She was in your bed last night, not my problem if you didn’t make a move.”

You heard him huff a breath out his nose, and his lack of an answer let you know that no, they obviously didn’t hook up last night. Good.

You strutted to Joey, immediately jovially greeting him. “Hey, Joe. How’s it goin’? What do we have going on here?” You squatted down to the bike that Jake and Joey already had propped up on the block.

“Startin’ to lose power, I hardly made it up the hill, here. Got a funny smell, too.” Joey answered with his arms crossed. Joey hadn’t been riding his bike long, but he knew enough about it to know the simple answer to this problem. You watched as he shot his eyes back and forth around the shop, looking behind you to Jake, to the loft, to the back rooms…

“When’d you change the filter last?” You inquired, trying to distract him from his wandering eyes.

“Ah, couple months. Shouldn't be ready for a new one quite yet.” He replied, spitting his snuff directly onto the shop floor. As unclean as you and Jake were, that was one thing you both could not fucking stand. Jake’s head popped up from inside the Chevy, and you watched as he shook his head in disgust.

“We’re around a lot of dust here, Joey. Check the fuel injectors?” You stood and walked to your tool kit, already knowing exactly how to fix his issue.

“Yup.” He nodded his head, giving you nothing more. This guy really isn’t as smart as you thought he was.

“Hey, where’s that sweet little thing that’s been hangin’ round? She ain’t here?” Joey asked through his snuff-stained teeth.

Your eyes met Jake’s for a split second. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about Joey?”

“I seen her ‘bouts. Boy, if she ain’t a pretty penny, huh? Bet she tastes sweet up under them tight jeans, too. Mmmhm, I’d like to have me a piece of that—”

You stood quick, shaking your towel with one quick whip through the air as you met Joey’s eyes, silently threatening him to shut his fuckin’ mouth before you shut it for him.

You squatted back down, and popped off a few pieces exposing the completely clogged air filter. You pulled it free, holding it up to Joey. “There’s your problem. Fuel injectors are probably clogged, too.”

These things were trashed. No way he just cleaned them.

So he lied. Jake was right. He fed you a bullshit reason to get here, and stay here. Waiting for her.

“Well I’ll be a sumbitch.” He cackled, spitting again.

“Why don’t you watch me do this so you won’t have to come to me for such a simple fix next time…?” You offered.

“What, is my money no good here?” He pressed, stepping forward.

“Didn’t say that, Joe. Just figured you knew how to fix this, seein’ that you’ve been riding awhile now.” You tried to undermine his intelligence and the fact that you were on to him. Both of you.

“But I’m more than happy to get you a new filter and clean these injectors. Take me five minutes. Then I’ll have your total on a bill upstairs.” You shot back, getting to work as quickly as possible.

Within ten minutes, you had the bike fixed, hoping that that was the only problem he had. Routine maintenance wasn’t something you were too keen on doing, especially for someone like Joey.

You handed Joey the bill as he pulled out a few tens from his wallet. “Ya know, Danny…it’s a damn good thing you mechanic better than you play poker, Jake too.” You watched his eyes shoot to Jake, still working up under the Chevy. “Shocking you keep winning, as shitty as you are. Strikes me as somethin’ a little more than luck, hm?”

Joey raised his eyebrow as your stomach sank. Were they onto what happened last night? No way…everyone was there watching you fight…

“Joey, this will make the second time I ask you what the fuck you’re talking about.” You said stoically, acting as though you truly had no clue.

He laughed low, scanning his eyes up and down you. “Thanks for the tune up, son. Catch you boys elsewhere.” Joey said, spitting on the ground yet again as he hopped on the bike, pulling it out of the bay in a cloud of dust.

Jake rolled the creeper out, a look of surprise written all over his face. “Fuck, have they caught on?”

“Hell if I know. But you were right. That was a recon mission. They are looking for her…” You slammed the towel down again, shutting all the drawers back on your tool kit. “He’s going to report back that she wasn’t here. They know where she’s stayin’, Jake.”

“Did she pull the dresser?” He asked, standing quickly from the floor.

“Yeah, yeah. I told her to. She’s layin’ low. God, they’re gonna go after her aren’t they?” You suddenly felt a wave of nervousness shake your bones. What had you gotten her into?

Jake was already running to the wall, ripping his keys from the hook. “Yeah. They sure as fuck are. I’ll go get her. Get her shit from the Scout and lock the shop up. I’ll be back.”

And for the third time in three days, you listened to exactly what Jake told you to do, with no argument whatsoever.

——

JAKE POV

Your tires spin as you pull out of the lot, your hand gripping the steering wheel as the other flicks open your zippo, holding the windblown flame to the tip of your cigarette. The metallic clink sounds particularly loud as you toss it to the bench seat. You pull the cigarette from your mouth letting the smoke dissipate through the window as you let out a sigh. “Man, fuck.”

You knew it only took six minutes to get from the shop to the motel but for some reason it felt like it had been twenty. You puffed on your cigarette a few more times, flicking it out the window as you pulled into the parking lot of the motel. You threw your door open and looked around, seeing not a soul in sight, but you knew Wanda was watching. Bitch.

You stepped up to her door, knocking three times as your heart raced with adrenaline. Open the door Y/N… “Hello? Who is it?” you heard her muffled voice say through the door.

“It’s me. It’s Jake. Open the door.” you reply hastily, leaning on the door frame. You can hear her rustling around behind the door, hoping she’s moving the dresser out of the way. You hear the chain release and the door cracks open.

“Jake?” she questions, pulling it open a little wider. “What are you doing here? I thought Danny was coming back.”

“Well surprise, you get me instead. Try not to be too disappointed.” you quip, pushing the door farther open and stepping inside. You shut the door behind you, spinning the lock and making your way over towards her suitcase. “Pack your things, we’re leaving.”

“What? No?” she says, crossing her arms across her chest. “What’s going on? Where is Danny.” she demands.

“He’s at the shop. Please get your shit together, we’re running out of time…” you say a little more sternly, running your hand over your mouth. The nicotine in your system has you shaking a bit, or maybe it was the adrenaline, either way you were growing more anxious by the second and the more she pressed the more you unnerved you became.

“Why do I have to leave? Where am I going to go? I paid for this room for seven days!” she snaps, stomping her foot like an insolent child. You huff out a laugh before swallowing and attempting to regain your composure, trying to pretend that her defiance wasn’t kind of making your dick hard.

“Y/N, we’ve got five minutes tops to get the fuck out of this room. You can pack your shit, or I will pack it for you, and I can promise you won’t like it. So either get started or step aside.” you order. She cuts her eyes at you, pausing as she makes her decision. She storms over to her suitcase grabbing her things from the dresser and packing them inside. She glares at you as you lean against the wall, watching her pull her items from the closet. She walks over to the bed, and begins putting on her shoes, very clearly not happy that you’re ordering her around with no answers. You raise your eyebrows at her as you pull your keys from your pocket, spinning them around on your pointer finger before catching them in your hand.

“You ready?” you ask, pushing off the wall towards her. You reach to grab the suitcase off the bed, shock shooting through you as she cowers away from you. Did she think you were going to hit her or some shit? Fuck, is she scared of you?

You watched her face grow red as she realized she made a jump reaction. You swallowed back the lump in your throat as you gently grabbed the suitcase from her side. She stood and turned off the TV, with her eyes cast to the floor in embarrassment.

“Come on, we don’t have much longer.” you say as softly as you can, twisting the lock and opening the door. You look out to the lot, still seeing only your truck, and continuing out the door. You toss her suitcase in the bed, and slide into the driver's side, pulling the lock on the passenger side to let her in. Seconds later you were pulling out of the parking lot, making your way back to the garage. You light a cigarette and glance over to her, still seeing her arms crossed over her chest and a pink tint on her cheeks. You lean over and roll down the window just enough to let some air hit her skin, and you see her physically relax. Well, at least a little.

You hold your cigarette between your fingers as you make your way down the empty road, glancing over at her again as she stares out the side window. You take another drag from your cigarette, gathering your nerve before tossing it out the window and placing your hand on the wheel. You swallow and turn to her. “I’m not going to hurt you, you know.”

She looks over at you, “I don’t know if that’s true.” she breathes.

“I promise you. That’s the last thing I want.” you say, letting your right arm snake up over the headrests, your fingers resting dangerously close to her hair. You couldn’t push the image out of your mind of how it would look wrapped around your fist. How soft and silky it would be sliding through your fingers. Fuck. No. Stop.

“What do you want, Jake? Why do I have to leave the motel? Why won’t either of you tell me anything?” she cracks, letting the waver in her voice show her emotion. “I just wanted you to fix my car! I just wanted to get out of here…I–”

“I know. I know you did. And I will fix your car. I swear. I just– I need you to trust me, okay? Me and Daniel. Just trust us. I promise we are only looking out for you. We’re gonna get you fixed up and out of here as soon as we can. I promise.” you confess. And while that was true, it would be a lie if you said you were doing your most timely work.

“I’m scared.” she admits, her hands fidgeting in her lap. You move your hand from the headrest, reaching down to calm her nervous hands, feeling her soft cool skin on your palm. “Of me?”

Her eyes flick down to your hand covering hers, before meeting your eyes. “No.” she answers far too quickly, pausing for a second and turning to look at you again, “Well, a little bit.”

Shit.

You nervously clear your throat, “Don’t be scared of me. I won’t hurt you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” you say, pulling your hand away from hers as you turn into the driveway of the shop.

She nods her head and straightens up her posture, “I still want to know what the hell is going on.” she demands.

You put the truck in park and pull the keys from the ignition, stepping out to grab her suitcase from the truck bed, nodding for her to follow you into the shop. You hear her shoes crunching in the gravel behind you as you make your way to the door, putting your key in the lock and pulling the door open. You let her walk in first, arms crossed over her chest as she disappears down the hallway. You lock the door behind you and set her suitcase down, pocketing your keys and setting off to find Daniel.

As you stepped into the kitchen you saw her standing near the sink, leaning into the countertop as Danny pulled her in for a hug, but before he could wrap his arms around her, she pushed him away, and created a bit of space between them. “No.”

She pointed to the two wooden chairs at the kitchen table with a raised brow. “Both of you, sit.” she instructed.

A smirk pulled across your lips at her little show of power, so you did as she said, curious to see where this was going to go. You kind of liked when she got bossy, kind of made you wonder if– No.

You crossed your leg over your knee and leaned back in the chair, pulling your carton of cigarettes from your pocket, and flicking your zippo to life. Daniel followed suit, taking the other chair and sending you a confused look and he popped the lid on his beer. You shrugged your shoulders and turned your attention back to Y/N.

She places her hands on her hips and narrows her eyes, glaring at the two of you with a look that could kill. You knew better than to fuck with a woman scorned, and goddamn if the sight didn’t have you hot under the collar. “Alright, you two are going to tell me what the fuck is going on here. Immediately.”

You let out a breath of smoke and turn to Daniel, who was rubbing his hands over his face in anguish. He looks over to you, and you nod in agreement, watching as he bites his lips together and lets his eyes flick up to hers.

“Fuck. Alright. Let’s start with Ace…”

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mask131 · 6 months ago

Text

So you want to know about Oz! (3)

Last time, we left on our sick and despaired mister Baum, as he realized he could never kill the child of his mind and despite his best efforts, the Oz fan would NEVER LET GO.

So, he decided "What the hell... If they want Oz books, they'll get Oz books!". And so he wrote more, and more, and more Oz books. At least, Baum understood that, in effect, people literaly did not care about any continuity. They were just interested in A) seeing old characters return and B) having more inventions and new lands thrown at them. They were all about that nostalgia and worldbuilding, without any care in the world for any cohesiveness or continuity error. So Baum gleefully invented and added as much as he could and went full whimsical-worldbuilding in what is truly a chaos to piece together when you try to look at Oz as a cohesive fantasy.

However that's the thing with Oz: it is not a cohesive fantasy series. The first two novels were not meant to be serialized or have sequels, as such, when he started doing them, Baum was forced to change things. It is as early as the fourth book, "Dorothy and the Wizard of Oz", which I like to call "BIG RETCON - the book" because it was Baum's first time at doing a huge lore retcon conflicting what was said in earlier books. Many people like to oppose in terms of worldbuilding Tolkien and C. S. Lewis - but I do believe Tolkien's archnemesis would be L. Frank Baum, with C.S. Lewis standing in the middle of the spectrum. Baum was just as prolific in content and enormous in scope as Tolkien when it came to worldbuilding... but when you put all things side by side it literaly makes no sense unless you look at the outside reasons that forced Baum to change his lore every three books or so. You know, it was a different time, fictional lore wasn't even a thing...

From six Oz books we went up to FOURTEEN Oz books in total. The man literaly kept writing them until his death... The last of the Oz books Baum wrote was "Glinda of Oz", published in 1920. L. Frank Baum died in 1919 from a stroke - he had finished the last Oz book, but it was only published posthumously... Yes, we can say the power of Oz was so strong it survived Baum...

It actually DID survive though... In a way you might not expect.

There are many, many ways to "cut" the Oz book series. There is the "original trilogy". There is the "original six books". You can go with "the fourteen books Baum wrote". But for decades the dominating division went by an official title, used by both publishers and fan-circles around the USA... The Famous Forty.

Yes, you heard it right... Famous FORTY.

"But... but why are there FORTY Oz books if Baum only wrote FOURTEEN? It's a mistake in spelling right?"

No. There are FORTY Oz books that are considered "official" (I am not even getting in the non-official ones) by Oz canon. Well, only if you are not a purist who considers that only the books Baum wrote are Oz-canon and the rest are just fan-sequels (I am such a purist). It doesn't help that so far ONLY the books L. Frank Baum wrote are in public domain, the others are still under copyright law.

And why did we go from fourteen to fourty? Why... For money of course! It has always been the reason why Oz went beyond its original "stand-alone novel format". "Money makes the world go round" as the song says...

When Baum died, his publishers of the time, Reilly & Lee, started SWEATING. Because the Oz series was still their best-seller, their cash-cow, their sacred little idol... They couldn't JUST stop it there! They needed to have the series continue... And you know what they say in the editing world! "If you author dies... JUST REPLACE HIM!"

The idea of replacing Baum as the author of the Oz novel actually worked like a charm thanks to something Baum himself introduced... Baum, as the series was serialized, inserted himself as a character of Oz. More precisely he refused to present himself as an author or inventor, and when dealing with fan mail (literal mail, letters) or writing his prefaces, he presented hmself as "The Royal Historian of Oz". It was part of the fun game he had with children: he pretended the Oz novels were all official chronicles of what actually happened in Oz, and that it was his job to write them down. (That's also why he hoped the sixth book great finale of "Oz is cut off from the rest of the world" would work at killing the series, because "Oh well, I'm stuck in the USA, too bad I can't get in Oz anymore to write my... What? What did you say? THEY SEND RADIO BROADCASTS NOW?")

When it came time to replace Baum, the editors just went "Hey, so, a new Royal Historian was hired by the Crown of Oz! Don't worry, the chronicles of what is going on in this new land are still around!". That's how Ruth Plumly Thompson came in the picture.

Now, I am not as knowledgeable on the other "Oz Royal Historians" as Baum. As I said, I am kind of a Baum purist. But here's some of the few things I know...

Ruth Plumly Thompson, the second "official Historian of Oz" by the editors' system was a huge fan of Baum's work, and so she jumped on the occasion to write more Oz books. (There were even rumors at some point that Thompson was Baum's niece and thus that the Oz books was just a family business). The Oz books were her main source of income, and so she worked VERY hard at doing Oz chronicles: she published one book each year.

Ruth Plumly Thompson's way of doing Oz was VERY different from Baum. I can't list all of the differences, but most notably Thompson' stories were closer to the traditional European fairytales, while Baum had always tried to subvert traditional fairytale tropes or avoid fairytale cliches at the time to truly do something new and fresh (him having a GOOD WITCH in the first Oz novel was a HUGE thing in the 1900s America where all witches were by default evil). Thompson also favored male protagonists (Baum always was fonder of female protagonists for Oz), and she introduced a lot of romances and love stories - something Baum was STRONGLY against, because in his aesthetic children did not care about romance and romantic love had nothing to do in youth literature.

Thompson wrote 21 OZ BOOKS, yes, 21, from 1921 to 1976. Well, to be exact, she wrote 19 books in one swift series from 1921 to 1939, then took a long Oz pause, and wrote two additional Oz books in the 70s, but these two books are not considered part of the "Famous Forty". The last of these two was not even an Oz book originally but rewritten to fit an Oz novel - "The Enchanted Island of Oz", published the year of Thompson's death. [This tactic of taking a standalone fantasy novel for children, and reinventing it as an Oz book, had been used by Baum himself prior. His tenth Oz book, "Rinkitink in Oz", was originally its own thing, before he rewrote it as part of the Oz series, explaining why Oz only appears in the final chapters of this novel].

While most of these novels are just as forgotten, if not more obscure, than the many other Oz books Baum wrote, there is one element that tends to regularly pop up in Oz adaptations. Have you never wondered why the Good Witch of the North is sometimes called "Tattypoo"? (A name I personally HATE). The name appears for example in "The Muppets' Wizard of Oz", despite Baum never giving any name to the Witch of the North. Well, this was a Thompson invention! She was the one who named the Witch Tattypoo in her book "The Giant Horse of Oz", where she worked at giving a backstory to this character... a VERY divise backstory among Oz fans for many, many reasons too long to explain here.

Now, I said famous FORTY, and yet with Thompson's books added we only have 33 books.... What's the rest?

Three Oz books, "The Wonder City of Oz", "The Scalawagons of Oz" and "Lucky Bucky in Oz", were published in the early 1940s by John R. Neill, considered the third "Royal Historian of Oz". What is very interestng is that John R. Neill had worked on the Oz series for a very long time... since the very early Oz books in fact.

Everybody remembers the original illustrations for "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz" - these were done by an artist named W. W. Denslow. It was the art where Dorothy is this chubby little brunette girl. Well, you might be surprised to learn Denslow only worked on this Oz novel. When Baum wrote the sequel, "The Marvelous Land of Oz", Denslow did not return. Rather John R. Neill entered the picture. He would become the "official" artist of Oz, illustrating not only all of the Baum books (except the first one), but also all of the Thompson books. And while he originally tried to match Denslow's style to make a smooth transition for the child audience, he quickly grew his own style - he notably was the one who brought to us a tall, thin, blond and fashionable Dorothy that is a far cry from the more "proper farm girl" Dorothy of Denslow. In fact, Neill's work as an artist does show in the way he writes Oz, as he has very cartoony ideas and works heavily with the visuals, so that the text can allow for cool-looking illustrations.

Unfortunately, the Oz curse strikes again: Neill died in 1943, the very year following the publication of his third Oz book. There was a fourth Oz books in the plan, that he had written the manuscript of right before his death: "The Runaway in Oz". However, Reilly & Lee refused to publish the unfinished work... We would have to wait until 1995 for this book to finally see the light of day: kept by Neill's widow, it was finally published by the house Books of Wonders, in a format edited and illustrated by Eric Shanower (another prominent Oz artist which we will have to talk about later).

Outside of these three main Historians, three more were recognized by the editors. Jack Snow, who in the late 40s published two "official" Oz books, "The Magical Mimics in Oz" and "The Shaggy Man of Oz". He also created an "official guide" called "Who's Who in Oz", but which was noted to have some inconsistencies with the books (which is expected given the Oz series is INCONSISTENCY - THE SERIES). There are a lot of rumors around of a third, unpublished Oz book by Snow called "Over the Rainbow to Oz", but nothing allows us to confirm the existence of such a book.

Rachel R. Cosgrove published one "official" Oz book in 1951, "The Hidden Valley of Oz". She had prepared in 1954 a second Oz book, called "The Wicked Witch of Oz", but Reilly & Lee refused to have it publish because, at the time, "Oz books didn't sell" (CRAZY, right? Now, in the mid-50s, Oz books didn't sell anymore?). She still managed to have it published in the 1990s, by The International Wizard of Oz Club (another beast we'll have to talk about).

Finally, the last official "Royal Historian of Oz" was Eloise Jarvis McGraw, but she wrote her only official Oz book in collaboration with Lauren Lynn McGraw, her daughter. Their work was "Merry Go Round in Oz". They created another Oz novel, "The Forbidden Fountain in Oz", but while it was published it was not included in the "canon" Famous Forty, and in 2000 Eloise Jarvis McGraw published a third Oz novel alone, "The Rundelstone of Oz".

And thus you have it! The Famous Forty. The Forty books Reilly & Lee, the official publishers of the Oz books, deemed, edited and sold as the "canon" Oz books.

... But of course, this being Oz, and the Oz books entering public domain in the 50s, 60s and onward, the Famous Forty as far from the only Oz books to exist. Oh no...

On one side, you have The International Wizard of Oz Club, which I talked about previously. From the 50s onward they worked as the second main publishers of Oz books, since Reilly & Lee had stopped doing Oz novels on the accounts that "it doesn't sell anymore". It was the Club that published the last two Oz novels of Thompson, and the fourth unpublished novel of Neill, and the rejected novel of Cosgrove, and the second book of the McGraw duo, and many others! They published 8 Oz works in total from 1958 (Jack Snow's short story "A Murder in Oz") to 2006 (Gina Wickwar's Toto in Oz).

To that you can add three Oz novels that were recognized as "official" by the Baum Family Trust. Two were written by William Stout, "The Emerald Wand of Oz" (2005) and "Trouble Under Oz" (2006) ; the last was by Kim McFarland, "Sky Pirates over Oz" (2014)

And I am not even talking about the many books written by several descendants of L. Frank Baum! Two of Baum's sons attempted doing Oz books: Frank Joslyn Baum, the eldest ("The Laughing Dragon of Oz", 1934) and Kenneth Cage Baum, the youngest ("The Dinamonster of Oz", written in 1941 but only published in 1991). However the most prolific Baum-related author is without a doubt Roger S. Baum. Great-grandson of the original author, he wrote FOURTEEN Oz books, yes as much as his great-grandpa, starting with "Dorothy of Oz" in 1989, and ending with "The Oz Enigma" in 2013.

And ALL OF THAT is not even accounting for all the non-official Oz authors and their many, MANY books... Go check the Wikipedia pages for the list of Oz books, or the many pages of the Oz Wiki, you will be impressed.

I wasn't lying when I was saying there were Oz bookS in plural...

#oz #land of oz #l. frank baum #the famous forty #oz books #the wizard of oz #so you want to know about oz #ruth plumly thompson #john r. neill #royal historians of oz #jack snow #and there's many more but i am not going to tag them all #oz authors

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nonclassyparty · 1 year ago

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man with the plan (j.wy) - prologue

Summary: "Don't forget Pretty, I'm serving life plus one. So if I get busted for attempted escape, I'll throw in a homicide in there as well with no problem, that’s like a parking ticket to me." When your brother ends up in jail for a murder he didn't commit, the only thing left for you to do is to find a way to break him out. But after a perfect plan is set in motion, you don't expect a romantic variable to get added into the equation.

Pairing: jung wooyoung x fem. reader, jeong yunho x reader (but if u squint)

Status: coming soon (i hope)

Taglist: if you'd like to be added just reply below! c:

A/N: this is very obviously inspired by prison break ( my favorite show on planet earth), y/n will be very much inspired by michael scofield and i (unfortunately) don't own nor the show nor michael scofield. anyways! wooyoung is the love interest (surprise surprise) but the rest of atz will be present. please let me know if this is something you'd be interested in reading. if i do continue writing it, i plan for it to be written in 3 parts each consisting of 7-9 chapters!

MY MAIN MASTERLIST! // AO3

(prologue)

The buzzing of the tattoo machine is the only thing interrupting the silence in the dark parlor as the needle continues prodding at the skin of your shoulder and makes you grip the chair you sit on.

It used to hurt. A lot. Now, the pain is reduced to a light sting as you suppose you've gotten used to it.

"Almost done. Just finishing touches now." Chao comforts from behind you, soft breath hitting your exposed skin as he wipes away the excess ink.

You only nod in response, never having much to say to him despite his best efforts.

"You know, you've been coming here for almost a year and barely said a word." He comments while he works. "Asking me to work after closing hours and everything, I would've expected to at least get to know you better."

You try to hold back an eye roll as you give him a bland look over your shoulder, eyes coasting over the tattoo of a dragon curling around his neck and disappearing behind his long hair.

"That's why I'm paying you almost double." Is your only response as you play with the sleeves of the button up pooling around your waist.

"So, you're telling me that after tonight, you'll just walk out of here and I'll never see you again?"

"Something like that." You murmur and he huffs behind you.

"I've never done a tattoo this big on a girl before." He continues, always keen on talking even if all he gets is quiet 'mhm's and 'ah's in response. "For a first-timer especially. Usually, it's a name of a boyfriend which they later regret or something artsy but shallow, like a butterfly or some shit."

A smirk tugs on your lips as you peek at him over your shoulder again, "Are you really trying to tell me I'm not like the other girls, right now?"

He grins and it makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. Chao was fairly attractive, handsome in that bad boy-ish type of way where you know he'll definitely put you through hell but you'd have fun with it.

It's unfortunate that you're not in the mood to think about anything like that anymore. You haven't been for the last eighteen months.

"You never even told me what the tatt was all about..." He trails off, bandaging your shoulder up and your eyes fall to the tiles below your feet. "I mean, look at all of this..."

You presume he means the tattoo starting from your lower back, curling around the shoulders and cascading down your arms, stopping at the wrists. The numbers laid over thin lines, intertwined with thicker ones, curling around letters like a snake and creating a piece that no-one can see.

No-one except for you.

It's about my brother's future, you think to yourself.

"It doesn't mean anything. Just thought it would look cool." You chuckle, sliding your hands through the sleeves of your shirt and working on buttoning yourself up, covering the tattoo from the artist who worked relentlessly to stitch it onto you. You turn to him, pulling your hair out from the collar of the shirt as you smile at him. "I guess I'm like all the other girls as well."

Chao stares at you in wonder before his eyes fall to the wad of cash you pull out from your bag and hold out to him.

"Thank you, Chao. You've done a great job."

He sighs again, "It would've been done a lot sooner if it wasn't for your constant nitpicking."

You grin at him while pulling on your jacket and slinging your bag over your shoulder. "What can I say, I'm a perfectionist."

Giving him one last wave, you disappear from the shop.

18 months ago;

The collar of your white button up feels like it's strangling you as the buzzer echoes through the stuffy room and two guards appear through the door, dragging him in and sitting him down in the chair opposite of you, making sure to cuff him to the table.

There is only glass separating you but it feels like he's miles away.

Jongho's eyes are dull when they meet your own, dark circles hanging below them and hair messy.

"Y/N..." You have to look the other way, to stop the ugly tears from falling as your heart constricts at his familiar voice.

You haven't seen him since the trial. Didn't have the courage to step anywhere near these walls.

A facility with maximum level security for the biggest scum that roamed your country and wretched chaos on innocent people, inflicted pain and sorrow, terrorized society in the worst of ways.

And now, your brother was one of them.

The person who raised you, took care of you when no-one else did, was serving a life sentence.

Finally gathering the guts to look at him, you clench your jaw and try to ignore the desperation in his eyes. The dark blue uniform engulfs him and is a deep contrast to his usually tanner skin that turned almost ghastly pale just after a week of being in there.

"Did you do it?" You whisper and Jongho looks at you like you just slapped him. His eyes water and he looks absolutely devastated but you have to know. You have to know.

"No." He answers firmly, voice cracking as he blinks away the tears, he never was much of a crier. "No. Of course not."

Of course not.

He says that like it's unimaginable for him.

It was unimaginable to you as well up until three weeks ago.

With a record of petty crimes and a bad temperament, he had a knack for getting himself into trouble that he always managed to get himself out of one way or another. Except this time.

You always knew Jongho was in some deep shit, hanging around people that were bad for him and barely being able to hold onto an honest job for more than a month.

But that's all he was. A petty criminal with offences that never went past bar fights and getting into discourses with police officers who stop his car for going over the speed limit, not a murderer.

You can't even stop the tear that slides down your cheek as you huff at an attempt to laugh, it comes out choked.

"What about all the evidence then?" Your voice is hoarse as you speak in a hushed tone, recalling the first time you've seen the tape in court.

"I...Y/N, I don't know...All I can think is that someone set me up because I didn't do it, I swear." Jongho stresses, palms laid against the table, desperate for you to believe him. "He was my boss, for fuck's sake."

"He fired you a month before that." You harshly interrupt and he sighs, eyes falling shut as you continue to sniffle with a crumbled face, "What were you doing at his house?"

"Someone told me to go there- I-I thought he was going to give me my job back..." Jongho stutters, his own tears threatening to fall as he presses his lips together. For his lack of excuse or proper explanation, he really does look sincere.

You both sit in silence for a moment, you can almost feel the time you have with him trickling away.

That's all you'll have with him from now on. One hour per week, for the rest of his life and that's only if your time here isn't shared with Yeosang, if he ever decides to muster up the balls to see him.

You're not sure if you're willing to settle for that.

"Swear to me." You finally say, staring at him dead in the eye as his brows furrow, "Swear to me that you didn't do it."

Without a beat, "I didn't do it." Jongho responds, not breaking eye contact. You keep your gaze planted on his face, observing it for any signs of dishonesty. But you fail to find any. "Y/N, I didn't do it. I swear to you."

You stare at him for a second longer before your gaze flies behind him, there are three guards in total in the room. One behind the counter, two by the door.

Your gaze returns to Jongho, who doesn't move a muscle, still looking at you in desperation and what you can only recognize as fear.

He looks a lot younger now, like the Jongho who used to shake every time you two would be on your way to a new foster family. The Jongho that you know was scared to the bones but never wanted to show it for your sake.

You can't lose your older brother.

"Okay."

You throw the keys into the bowl near the front door and with a tired sigh kick off your shoes before walking further into your apartment.

The shoulder Chao just worked on ached like hell but the pain almost felt good, served as a reminder that you can't afford to be tired right now.

So without further ado, you walk into your office that when you first moved into the luxurious skyscraper overlooking Han River, was used for working from home or more like, working after you came home from work.

Now, the office served a different purpose completely.

Your eyes sweep over the filled out wall and window, both covered in an array of information and yellow post-it notes; a product of your relentless work and research over the last eighteen months.

Your hands twitch, you don't want to get rid of it. What if you missed something? What if you made a mistake somewhere? What if something managed to sneak away unnoticed by you?

But having it here, in plain sight where anyone who walks in and is nosy enough to look can see it, can end up being more dangerous than something unforeseen happening. Heck, you already had Mrs. Kim try to enter despite it being locked a couple of times.

You needed to lose every trace or connection to that prison and the people inside of it, with the exception of Jongho, before Monday.

Besides, what would be the point of Chao and the reason you almost paid him thirty grand? If you don't get rid of this stuff, it would almost be as if you flushed the money down the toilet.

So you grab an empty garbage bag and with a shaky sigh, start ripping down paper after paper, photo after photo and filling out the plastic bag. Article after article flashes before your eyes as the sound of papers ripping fills the room.

'Chungju Detention Center: Level 1', 'Choi Jongho Final Appeal Denied', 'Choi Jongho Convicted To Serve Life For Murder of-', 'Body of Son Changkyu found in his home-', 'Governor's Son Wins Humanitarian Award', 'Life sentence for Kim Hongjoong', 'Park Ha-ru Myth Still Alive Despite Conviction', 'Killer of VP Brother to Serve a Life Sentence at Chungju-'

Once the window is clean and the wall is bare again, only tiny holes from the tacks left as evidence that anything was ever there in the first place and with three bags worth of garbage, you stuff it into the fireplace and throw a match in right after.

You watch the key to your brother's future turn to ashes.

The buzzer makes you look up from your hands and you smile a little bit once your eyes meet Jongho's through the glass but it quickly turns to a frown once you notice the enormous bruise running down his jaw.

"Hey." He greets with a stiff smile as the guard cuffs him to the table and turns to walk away.

"What happened?" You jump to question him immediately and Jongho rolls his eyes with a low groan.

"It's not a big deal."

"They beat you up."

"Hey, maybe I was the one who was beating someone else up." He defends trying to lighten up the situation but the frown on your face doesn't budge and he sighs. "I got in a fight with one of the guys in the yard, it's not a big deal, Y/N, shit like that happens here-"

"It can't happen, Jongho. From now on, it can't happen." Now it's Jongho's turn to frown and you sigh, "You'll get thrown into solitary if it gets any worse and then I won't be able to-"

You stop yourself, eyes fleeting to the guard behind the counter. There are no wires surrounding the visitors area due to the building being so old, you would know, you made sure it was the first thing to check once you got your hands on the blueprints. But you can never be too careful.

"I won't be able to see you if you're in solitary." You say, voice gentle and Jongho's eyes soften before he gives you a nod in response.

"Alright, no fighting back, I'll just let them beat me to a pulp then I guess." He shrugs and you roll your eyes. Typical.

"You know that's not what I meant but that smartass attitude is the thing that might be getting you in trouble in the yard in the first place." You quickly retort with a glare as he huffs.

"How's your cellmate?" You ask and Jongho, as he always does when you ask about his roommate, looks confused but today, it's something else as well.

"Oh, I'm actually getting a new one." You freeze at that, blinking rapidly a couple of times.

"What do you mean?"

"They're moving Jisung to the psych ward after he tried to off himself with his bedsheet." Jongho explains like he's talking about the weather and you gape at him, wondering just what goes on in there on the daily if a man trying to kill himself isn't anything out of the ordinary.

But then again, you're not all that worried about Jisung's mental health either but more for the fact that he's gone and now somebody else will take his place.

You can already see a small tiny piece of your tattoo being considered useless now.

But you can't let that bring you down. It's just a small hitch, nothing else.

"Well, do you know who's coming to take his place?" You ask, ignoring the way Jongho eyes you.

He shakes his head in response and your leg starts bouncing in anxiety.

"No, they're moving him in after lunch."

After lunch.

So, you won't know until...

One of the biggest pieces of the plan and it will be unsure until the said plan is set in motion.

Great.

You clear your throat, leaning closer and on instinct, Jongho copies you, "Listen, I won't be able to visit for awhile."

"Why?" Jongho questions, eyes boring into yours and you let out a small breath. "Are you going somewhere?"

"No." Your eyes stray to the two guards by the door, just a couple of feet away. "I just won't be able to visit you for awhile. Maybe. I'm working on preventing that but just in case I don't come next Friday, I wanted you to know."

Jongho eyes you suspiciously before he leans closer again, nose almost touching the glass. "Y/N, what the hell are you doing?"

You bite back a smile, amused that he just knows you, and that only makes Jongho more frustrated.

"Y/N, did you get yourself in some shit?" He hisses, looking over his shoulder to check if the guard is still by the door, "If you did, call Yeosang. He'll know what to do."

You scoff, "I'm not you to get myself in some shit. Relax, I got a new job."

"New job?" Jongho goes back to being confused, "Why can't you visit then? It's somewhere far away?"

You stare at him before nodding, "Something like that," You whisper.

"Oh, okay. I mean of course, your job is important." He nods and you feel your heart ache inside your chest at his slightly crestfallen face that he tries to cover up. "You're a structural engineer after all, they probably need you to design another fancy building, huh?"

You wish to tell him that you'll be there. You'll be closer to him than he thinks but you can't do any of that until you're properly inside those walls.

"Yeah." You nod, blinking away the tears. You clear your throat, glancing at the clock behind his head. "Hey, Jongho, remember how we used to talk to each other?"

He cocks his head in confusion.

"When we were kids, how we used to talk to each other. For example, when Soyoung was around and we didn't want her to understand."

Jongho's eyes gain some recognition but the confusion still remains on his face. Hesitantly, he bobs his head, "Yeah."

"Good," You nod, mouth perking up, "You might want to brush up on that."

Jongho opens his mouth to say something more but you're already waving over the guard.

You lean closer to him one more time, staring at his confused face through the glass to whisper;

"See you on Monday."

#wooyoung x reader #ateez imagine #ateez angst #ateez x reader #wooyoung imagine #wooyoung scenarios

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sixhours · 5 months ago

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i know you by heart - chapter 6

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Prospect, Joel Miller x Ezra, Joel & Ellie, Ezra & Cee, Joel is bad at feelings and relationships, Ellie is a little shit (affectionate), mostly follows canon after season 1, SMUT, gay sex, bisexual!Joel, period-typical homophobia, alcoholism behavior, light angst, angst with a happy ending, romance, age gap (~10ish years), I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

Chapter notes: Look ma, no smut! Sorry, things are still rough for a l'il bit. Shit's getting plottier. CW for some alcoholic-like behavior, so y'know, take care of yourself.

(Also, I recognize that technically Sarah died the day after Joel's birthday, but in my head, it's all one big, awful day for him.)

“Are you mad at me?”

Her voice is so small when she asks the question, seated at the kitchen table across from him as he changes the dressing on her burn. She’d stubbornly refused his help at first, but applying the gauze and tape one-handed was trickier than it looked, and she eventually caved, trudging downstairs to sit at the kitchen table while he goes over the burn care instructions from the clinic.

“Damn right I am,” he growls, narrowing his eyes as he dabs salve on the gauze to prevent it from sticking to the damaged skin before lightly recovering the wound. He finishes applying the last piece of tape, then he sighs and sinks back in his seat, rubbing his eyes. “No. That ain’t it. I’m not…mad, Ellie. I’m just worried about you.”

He swallows hard, choosing his next words carefully, always on thin ice.

“We can’t keep goin’ like this, kid,” he murmurs. “You gotta start talkin’ to me.”

“I know,” she whispers, biting at her lower lip. “Ezra said I should tell you.”

The name puts a lump in his throat. He pretends to be very interested in putting the first aid supplies away. “He did, huh?”

“But I knew you’d try to stop me.”

“Yeah, I woulda,” he snaps, then sighs when she winces. “I just…I don’t get what you were thinkin’, Ellie. But…I want to understand. I’m tryin’ to.”

He tucks everything back into the plastic box and latches it, shoving it aside before turning to meet her eyes, trying to keep his voice soft and level. “Can you help me understand?”

She flinches. “It’s just…every time I see that stupid scar, I remember…I remember them. Riley and Tess and Sam and Henry and…it’s like a big fucking flashing sign reminding me that they died for nothing–“

“That’s not–“

“No,” she cuts in. “You wanted to understand and I’m trying to fucking tell you so just let me talk.”

He sits back, stung. “Alright.”

“This stupid scar…it was supposed to mean something. But it didn’t work out, and now…it’s just a reminder of everything I couldn’t do. And I didn’t want to look at it anymore.”

“That wasn’t…Marlene should never have put that on you,” he says. “You’re just a–“

She scoffs. “I’m ‘just a kid’, right? Because that’s all I’ve ever been. Marlene didn’t ‘put that on me,’ Joel. She believed in me.”

Her fist clenches on the table, and all Joel can think is how much it must hurt, the way her forearm tightens, pulling at the damaged skin. His hand reflexively comes out to cover hers, but she yanks it back.

“You don’t know what it’s like to grow up without anyone . You had your brother and Tess and…and Sarah. People who needed you. But all I had was Riley, and even she fucking left.

“But Marlene saw me and it was like…like I was more than just another dumb FEDRA kid. She knew my mom, she…knew me before anyone else. And she gave me a purpose. And every time I look at that stupid scar, I…I’m just…it’s like I lose that all over again.”

His hands twitch with the effort it takes to restrain himself from pulling her into his arms. The only thing that stops him is shame, the knowledge that he’d been the one to put a bullet between Marlene’s eyes, and what Ellie would think of him if she knew.

“Baby girl,” he begins slowly. “ I believe in you. Tommy an’ Maria an’…an’ Ezra. We’re all here for you . We need you . Not your immunity, not some…some fairytale cure. Just you, Ellie.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah…I know.”

He shakes his head, takes her face in his hands as she’s trying to look away. “No, I don’t think you do. And you need to get it through that stubborn head of yours before you hurt yourself again, y’hear me?”

She looks like she wants to say more, but doesn’t. She just nods, eyes shining. And then he can’t resist, leaning in to place a kiss on her forehead, standing so he can pull her into a hug.

“C’mere.”

And she does, wrapping her good arm around his waist, pressing her face to his chest.

“You…are the only thing that matters here, Ellie,” he says softly. ��You. Just you, kid.”

Summer bleeds into fall and Ellie goes back to school. Her arm heals, the old scar covered by a new one that doesn’t betray her immunity. For all Joel’s reservations, the burn seems to have helped put something right in her, and she comes back to him in increments.

She’s eating again, sneaking her portion of venison steak onto his plate and stealing his dinner roll when she thinks he’s not looking. She even suggests they set up a weekly dinner around the new fire pit while the weather holds. She meets him at the stables after patrol so they can walk home together. The light slowly comes back into her eyes.

She’s still seeing Ezra. Joel is not.

They sit on the back porch together at night and he shows her the basics on her guitar, but he can’t bring himself to play. When thoughts of Ezra surface, he pushes them roughly aside and turns back to her. This is what he knows, this is what he’s made for. It’s for the best, he tells himself, and it’s even easier to believe when Ellie smiles.

But sometimes at night, when his body aches from a long day’s work and his mind refuses to still, he misses him.

And then it’s the worst day of the year.

They have an understanding–no presents, no parties, there’s nothing to celebrate. But he compromises because it’s Ellie and because she’s warming up to him again. They’ll have dinner at home, just the two of them. He thinks he overhears something about a cake. Maybe they’ll eat outside and look at the stars.

It’s a plan, but it doesn’t stop him from counting down the late September days with dread and wishing he could sleep through it. Ellie’s presence soothes the ache, but at times like this it’s a band-aid over a gunshot wound.

Tommy doesn’t question it when he asks for an overnight patrol shift the night before, a double, returning in the late morning. He intends to wear himself out, come home, and sleep until dinner.

When the sleep part doesn’t pan out and he has nothing better to do, he drinks. He drinks until his personal stash is depleted, desperate to kill the hours. The Bison doesn’t open until four, but he can’t stare at the ceiling for another second, so he puts on his boots and goes for a walk.

And then he’s standing in front of Ezra’s house. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thinks this is probably the post-apocalyptic equivalent of drunk-dialing his ex, but his judgment is too far gone by the time he finds himself on the porch, knuckles tingling from the knock.

Ezra looks him up and down, forgoing the greeting.

“How far down the rabbit hole are you, songbird?”

“Not far enough,” he mutters. “Can I come in?”

There’s a moment where he’s sure he’ll be turned away. Hell, if the roles were reversed, Joel would probably tell him to fuck off. But Ezra opens the door.

“I have a prior engagement,” he says, clipped, nodding at the closed office door. “Twenty minutes. You can wait in the kitchen.”

Joel nods mutely, aims his steps down the hall. After only a fleeting hesitation, he helps himself to the liquor that Ezra keeps in the cupboard. For strictly medicinal purposes, he’d once said with a coy little smirk, and Joel had rolled his eyes. Now he thinks this is exactly the kind of medicine he needs, and he doesn’t have to show his face at the Bison to get it.

He’s two more drinks in by the time he hears the front door open and close, then Ezra’s footsteps in the hall.

“Ez,” Joel nods, already feeling the effects. He’s been generous with his pours.

“Songbird,” he murmurs, eyeing the half-full glass on the table, the bottle looking leaner.

“I ran out,” Joel mutters, holding up his drink. “Figured it’s a commune. We share.”

Ezra grabs a glass from the cupboard, slides it across the table, and lets Joel pour. He tops up his drink as Ezra takes a seat.

Somehow he’s both too drunk and not drunk enough for whatever comes next.

“To what foul fortune are we drinking at,” Ezra pauses, squints at the clock, “two in the afternoon?”

“Forgetting,” Joel says after a pause.

“To the dissolution of memory,” Ezra murmurs, touching their glasses and downing his portion with a grimace. Joel doesn’t flinch. The smack of the empty tumbler on the tabletop is overloud in the tiny kitchen.

“Let us put our cards on the proverbial table. If you’ve come here after having partaken for the purposes of an errant fuck,” he says, spitting out the last consonant with emphasis, “you’ll find yourself sorely disappointed.”

Joel winces, feels the words hit like a well-deserved slap. “S’not why I’m here.”

“Ah. Then do you intend to tell me why you’ve decided to grace me with your presence?”

He opens his mouth, closes it again. Maybe it’s the alcohol slowing his tongue, but he doesn’t think it’s just that.

“I jus’…”

I miss her.

I miss you.

Ezra studies him, something sharp and curious in his gaze. If Joel weren’t so deep in his melancholy he’d be embarrassed, maybe even ashamed, but Ezra doesn’t look put out, only resigned. Concerned.

He’s too damn quiet either way.

Joel blinks, tries to shake off the sadness that’s taken root, tendrils of sorrow twining around his ribs, making his chest tight. He can’t, of course. It never goes away, just loosens its grip enough for him to keep breathing.

“She, uh…she died today,” he whispers. “Sarah. My…my daughter.”

Ezra eases back in his chair, tilts his head. Joel faintly recognizes it as his counseling pose. Open. Waiting. But his tongue feels stuck to the roof of his mouth and the world has gone fuzzy and he thinks he might be crying but his face is numb.

“Never saw her fifteenth birthday. She’d be thirty-six now…if she’d made it. Thirty-fuckin’-six. That’s…shit,” he laughs humorlessly. “Same age I was when she died.”

Ezra is kind enough not to point out that you could throw a stone anywhere in the town of Jackson and chances are good you’d hit someone who lost a loved one on Outbreak Day. Tonight the Bison will be busier than usual, most of its patrons trying to numb the day away in the same fashion. It wasn’t a revelation.

But it always seemed like a pretty big “fuck you” to Joel to be forced to reckon with his birthday on top of all that.

“Gunshot,” he says evenly. “Couldn’t even bury her. Jus’ left her in a field south’a Austin an’ went on our way.”

His words are slow, fat and syrupy in his mouth.

Ezra leans forward, rests his arm on one knee, peering into Joel’s face. His eyes have gone soft, and it’s too much like pity.

“Prob’ly still there,” he whispers.

Time begins to slide sideways. His eyelids feel heavy, his head filled with sand. He’s on his knees and her blood is drying tacky on his shirt and Tommy is screaming at him to get up, get up, we gotta go , but he’s weighted down, his little girl has never felt so heavy in his arms, cold and still as stone. He’s pinned in place like a butterfly under glass, his baby is gone and he might as well be dead, too.

And then Ezra is standing, taking Joel’s hand, leading him upstairs. He slouches in the bedroom doorway, vaguely aware of the sounds of a shower starting as he tries to shake off the vision of her hand lying limp against his arm. There’s a light touch on his waist, asking permission with the lift of an eyebrow before he’s stripped down methodically and pushed gently toward the bathroom with a hand between his shoulder blades.

Forehead pressed to the tile as the water rolls off his back. Blood, so much blood, the water should run red, but it’s clear. The creak of the faucet turning, the warm rush of water gone, a towel being scrubbed over his shoulders. A hand herding him back into the bedroom, pulling back the covers. The bed is soft, softer than he deserves. The harsh scrape of curtains being closed and the room dims.

Joel flops onto his back, feels the bed spin underneath him, watching through slitted eyes as Ezra moves around the room. Focusing on him, him, him so he doesn’t slip back out of time.

There’s the clunk of a glass of water being placed on the nightstand and Joel reaches out blindly, finding Ezra’s fingers with his.

“Stay.”

A sigh. “Sleep.”

“Can’t…can’t do it,” he mumbles. “Can’t do it again.”

“I know, cher .”

“Mmm. Stay,” he tries again, but the hand is gone.

Ezra whispers something about a gentleman, taking advantage, sleep now . The words barely find him through a thick haze of exhaustion.

“Since when’re you a gentleman?” Joel slurs, rolling over so his words are muffled by the pillow.

A low chuckle as fingers card through his towel-damp hair.

“Sleep, songbird.”

He wakes and the light is all wrong. It’s too dark, for one. It’s not his room, for another.

“Shit,” he hisses, mouth dry as sandpaper. He makes it upright, still a little woozy, caught somewhere between inebriation and a hangover, and stumbles into the bathroom to put on his clothes.

Downstairs, the only light comes from Ezra’s office as music plays low on the record player. Ezra gets up from the couch as Joel squints into the lamplight.

“He lives,” Ezra says drily.

Joel swallows hard, fighting the sudden urge to vomit, and leans against the door frame. When he opens his eyes, Ezra is standing in front of him, brow arched.

“Perhaps I spoke too soon.”

“I, uh…m’alright…”

“You crashed spectacularly,” Ezra says. “Do you recall any of it?”

He wracks his brain. “I…had a few ‘fore I came over, an’…think we…we talked…”

“Indeed. Then you sang, you danced, got down on one knee…”

Joel’s heart is suddenly beating too fast. “I–what?”

“I’m pulling your leg, songbird,” Ezra says, lips curling in a smirk. “No, you did nothing untoward, save for interrupting my last session of the day a few minutes early. And drinking half my liquor, I’ll add.”

“S’pose I deserve that,” he says, breathing a sigh of relief. Then another thought occurs to him, one that sends a hot flush up the back of his neck. “We didn’t, uh…y’know. Did we?”

A dry huff of laughter. “No, we didn’t.”

“Good…I mean, not…I mean…I, uh, wanted…wanted to…not that I wanted–fuckin’ hell,” he groans, stomach roiling again.

Ezra quirks his lips but doesn’t speak, waiting for Joel to recover.

“Look, I, uh… I know you…were just lookin’ out for Ellie before. I stuck m’foot in it. I’m real sorry for that. I just…it’s just, uh Ellie, she’s, uh…she’s doin’ better, an’…that’s...”

He trails off.

…Ellie…something about Ellie…oh…

“Fuck,” he groans. “What time is it?”

“Not quite ten.”

Dinner. He was supposed to be back for dinner.

“Fuck, I gotta…I gotta go.”

“Well. I suppose I should be glad I could be of use ,” Ezra says, lacking his former levity. “Any port in a storm, is that it?”

“No, no, that’s not…shit,” Joel growls, turning to grab his boots, making for the door. “I didn’t mean to…I promised her I’d…I just gotta go.”

“Yes, you’ve made that perfectly clear,” Ezra sighs, his disappointment palpable. “Crystal, in fact.”

“M’sorry, Ez, but…I’ll…tomorrow? Can we just–”

“I think we’ve drawn this out quite enough,” he says flatly. “Goodnight, Joel.”

The door slams behind him, leaving him little choice but to go home. Home, where his kid has been waiting for hours while he’s been sleeping off a bender at his…at Ezra’s.

Fucking fuck.

She’s sitting at the kitchen table with her journal. He suspects there are some choice words in that book for him now, but anger would be preferable to the look in her eyes.

If Ezra’s disappointment stings, Ellie’s is a knife to the heart.

“M’sorry…I’m late,” he says, feeling every bit the asshole he knows he is. “We can still eat if you–”

“Ate already. There’s leftovers in the fridge,” she says flatly. “And a cake. Maria helped me make it. It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“You didn’t have to do all that,” he says roughly.

She bites her lip, chewing it, fighting some internal battle before sighing and asking the question.

“Were you with Ezra?”

He opens his mouth to protest, but she snorts. “Don’t bother. You’re shit at hiding things, y’know.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that. Of course she’d known. Hadn’t Ezra told him as much?

A knack for seeing things exactly as they are.

“How long?” he whispers.

“Saw you in the greenhouse once. And that first night…he never took the album back. It’s still in your bedroom. Didn’t mean to snoop, but it’s, like, right there.”

He closes his eyes. The room seems to sway around him, nausea gripping his insides.

“Figured you’d tell me when you were ready,” she shrugs, picking at her nails. “But you never did, so…”

“El–”

“Is it me? ‘Cause I wouldn’t have cared, y’know,” she says, and the waver in her voice nearly brings him to his knees. “I don’t…I don’t know why you don’t…trust me.”

“I do, kiddo, I’m–”

“You said I matter but you can’t even be honest with me about this one stupid thing, and that…that makes me think…”

She’s crying, angry tears that she swipes away with her sleeve before they can fall. Should’ve known , he thinks dully, should have known she’d turn this on herself .

“Fuck it, never mind,” she says with a groan.

He steps forward but she’s out of the chair and already moving toward the stairs.

“It’s not…not gonna happen again,” he tries shakily. “We’re…not…anymore.”

This only seems to make it worse. He wishes she would scream at him, yell and stomp and storm around the way she used to, but now she just looks defeated.

“You’re such an asshole,” she sighs with none of her usual fondness. Then she’s gone, soft footsteps on the stairs and a door that doesn’t slam and the quiet is louder than anything.

He climbs the stairs to his bedroom. The album is still sitting on his dresser. She’s right; he never bothered to hide it. He’s a fucking idiot.

He traces his fingers over the cover and feels the tears he’s been holding back all day slipping down his cheeks.

Worst damn day of the year.

Joel wakes up to an empty house and a raging bitch of a hangover, and that sets the tone for the rest of the week.

He barely sees Ellie after that. When she’s not at school or work or training, she locks herself in her room. She misses her curfew and he lets it slide once, then twice, reasoning she needs the space. But eventually he has to put his foot down. She’s his kid and she can’t avoid him forever.

He hopes.

When she comes home past curfew the next time, he’s waiting up on the porch.

“Sit,” he says, gesturing to the spot next to him on the swing.

She rolls her eyes and moves to go in the house instead, wheeling on him when she jiggles the handle and realizes he’s locked the door. He dangles the key in one hand, cocks an eyebrow, one step ahead of her.

“You’re late,” he says.

“Pretty fucking rich coming from you.”

“Alright, that’s…that’s not the same thing, kid. I know I hurt you, and I’m sorry for that, but you can’t keep doin’ this.”

“It would appear I fucking can.”

Christ, the attitude . There’s a familiar headache forming behind his eyes and he’s fast losing control of his temper. It’s been a long fucking week.

“You can be pissed at me all you want, but I’m still responsible for you. Curfew’s eleven.”

“What was it you said? I’m not your daughter and you’re not my dad. So I think I’m done listening to you.”

His jaw tightens as he tries not to show how much that particular remark stings. He stands and glares at her.

“As long as you live under this roof, you will be home before curfew. Is that clear?”

“Fine,” she says. “Then I don’t have to live here.”

And she turns on her heel and stomps back down the porch steps.

“Ellie! Damnit–”

She flips her middle finger up, waving it over her head like a flag, and doesn’t look back.

He has half a mind to follow her, but he knows if he does, he’ll say some shit he doesn’t mean. And so will she. And they’ll just keep circling around the same awful truth, the one he can’t speak aloud, the one she can’t admit to herself.

Instead, he goes into the house and punches a dent in the kitchen wall.

She’ll come back , he tells himself, pacing the floor and clutching his throbbing fist. She’ll come back, and they’ll patch things up and smooth it over the same way he’ll patch up the drywall tomorrow. They’ll figure it out. They always do.

But then she doesn’t come home.

He’s on Tommy and Maria’s doorstep early the next morning, when his imagination has cycled through all the worst case scenarios and won’t let him wait any longer.

“Y’all seen Ellie? She took off last night. Thought maybe she might’ve stayed here.”

Tommy’s bouncing Izzy on his hip. He shakes his head.

“Nope. Been up most of the night with this one, definitely would've seen her.”

Joel frowns, flexes his aching hand.

“But she can’t have gone far,” Tommy adds quickly. “I’ll radio the folks on the wall, let ‘em know to keep an eye out.”

“Alright…”

“Should we be worried?”

Joel bites his lip, shakes his head. “Nah. Just, uh, let me know if you hear anythin’. I’ll go ask around.”

Tommy nods. “‘Course. We’ll keep you posted.”

He waits by the school until half past eight, but she doesn’t show. Every minute she’s unaccounted for ratchets his anxiety up another notch until he’s grinding his teeth and pacing a trail between the stables, the house, and the main street in hopes of catching her.

Tommy flags him down on his way back to the house, his third such trip in the last hour.

“Hey, just got word on the radio. She’s fine. Ezra’s got her. Says she showed up last night an’ crashed with Cee.”

Joel runs a hand through his hair. “That's…somethin’, I guess.”

Tommy gives him a look that’s too close to pity for comfort. “You wanna tell me what’s goin’ on?”

“S’nothin’ serious,” he mutters. “Had a rough day, that’s all.”

Tommy smirks. “If she’s anythin’ like you at sixteen–”

“Jesus, don’t start,” he groans.

“Just sayin’, big brother. You’re in for it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go on. An’…thanks, Tommy.”

He waits until his brother is out of sight before heading to Ezra’s.

Ezra doesn’t invite Joel in this time, just steps onto the porch and closes the door behind him.

“Hey. I, uh…heard she’s here.”

“Your young prodigy made her illustrious appearance in the wee hours. Fortunately for her I’m a light sleeper…as you well know,” he adds coolly.

Joel crosses his arms, can’t meet his eyes. “Look, I, uh…I don’t want her puttin’ you or your girl out–”

Ezra ducks his head, softening a little. “It’s no trouble. I got the distinct impression at our last session that the two of you were not exactly…simpatico at the moment.”

“You could say that.”

He lowers his voice. “In fairness, she’s been equally reticent with me as of late. I speculated that she might have felt I betrayed her trust in my conversations with you–”

Joel shakes his head. “She, uh, figured us out. Wasn’t too happy about it. Or…she wasn’t happy about bein’ left in the dark, more like.”

“Ah. Well…I suppose I am just as much to blame, then.”

“No,” Joel says quickly. “It’s on me. I shoulda…should have told her. Got too in my head an’…well, guess it doesn’t matter now.”

He shifts on his feet, rubs at the back of his neck.

“Don’t think she’d be here if she blamed you,” he murmurs. “I dunno. Maybe you can get through to her. Think I’ve done enough.”

“I’ll do my level best. The couch is hers until she’s had enough of me. Perhaps a few days of my loquacious ramblings will set her to rights,” he adds drily. “If she’s anything like Cee, she’ll be begging for peace and mercy at your door.”

“Doubt that,” he says thickly. “I guess I’ll…I’ll bring by some of her stuff. Clothes an’ whatnot.”

Ezra nods.

“Tell her…tell her I love her,” he says. “An’ I’m sorry. I, uh…yeah. I’m sorry.”

“I suspect the apology would be more effective coming from you…but I’ll pass the message along.”

“Thanks, Ez.”

He walks away. It feels too much like giving up, and the ugly bloom of failure unfurls in his gut like a poison.

Joel packs a small duffel bag with enough clean clothes for three days. After a week with zero contact, he can only assume she’s doing laundry, or she snuck back to the house while he was out and grabbed more of her stuff.

By day five, he’s making a regular stop at the Bison after his shifts when it’s clear his usual late-September blues aren’t going away. There’s a two-drink maximum, and Joel gets his daily share before going home, pulling out his flask, and crashing on the couch. Sleeping pills are hard to come by but booze will do in a pinch. He’s keenly aware this is partly what got him into trouble in the first place, but in Ellie’s absence, he’s lost his anchor and his reason to care.

Tommy sidelines him at the bar on day seven, sliding onto the stool next to him just as he’s started his first drink.

“So you gonna pull the stick outta your ass and tell me what’s goin’ on?”

Joel rolls his eyes, grunts. “Dunno what you’re gettin’ at.”

“C’mon, Joel. I got eyes. Ellie ain’t talkin’ and you’re shufflin’ around here like a fuckin’ mushroom head,” he says, eyeing the drink in Joel’s hand.

“Your wife put you up to this?”

Tommy snorts. “She’s got her hands full. I’m askin’ as your brother…and your friend. Now talk.”

“She’s mad,” he mutters, taking a long drink. “Not much to tell.”

“The fuck did you do?”

Indignance flares. “What makes you think I did anythin’? She’s sixteen. She’s gonna hate me sometimes.”

“Bullshit. That girl thinks you hung the moon. An’ you wouldn’t be out here drinkin’ yourself stupid if you didn’t feel bad about somethin’.”

It’s an uncomfortable role reversal; Joel in the hot seat, Tommy doing the grilling. He wonders when his little brother grew up.

It’s really fuckin’ annoying.

“Whatever you did, just…fix it, Joel.”

“Not that simple.”

“Yeah, it really is, big brother.”

“Tommy, I–you don’t know,” Joel growls. “You don’t know what happened out there.”

“You’re right about that. Been holdin’ your cards pretty close to the chest. But I know you, and I know when you’re lettin’ your foolish pride get the better of you.”

“If you’re so fuckin’ smart then you go figure it out. ‘Cause I’ve tried, and it ain’t workin’.”

Tommy considers him, taps his fingers on the counter before leaning in. “And Ezra?”

He stiffens. “What about Ezra?”

“Thought maybe you two were…y’know. Seemed pretty close for a while there.”

Joel glares at his brother. “What’d Ellie tell you?”

He whistles. “She didn’t have to tell me nothin’. Like I said, I have eyes. An’ you’re shit at hidin’ things.”

Christ, that’s exactly what she said. That stokes the flames of Joel’s ire even further. He's as transparent as the amber liquid he’s drinking.

“Hey, I ain’t judgin’–”

“Good.”

“An’ it’s none of my business–”

“Sure as shit it ain’t.”

“But as your brother…I only wanna see you happy. An’ the only person capable of makin’ you this miserable is you. So quit fuckin’ around and make it right.”

“Did you come here to drink or just to get on my ass?”

“Naw, I gotta go. I owe Maria a week’s worth of diaper duty for the whole Ezra thing,” he winks, hopping off the stool. “‘Sides, I’ve got early patrol tomorrow. Gotta get my beauty rest.”

Joel grunts, considers tossing his drink in his brother’s stupid, smug face, decides it would be a waste of a good sleep aid.

“Fix it, Joel,” Tommy says, clapping him on the back as he takes his leave. “S’what you do best.”

Eight days.

It’s been eight days since Ellie left him. He hasn’t been apart from her for this long in their entire history together, and it’s breaking something inside him, cracking his heart in places he didn’t know could crack. Somehow it’s worse than Sarah, because Sarah has been dead and gone for years, while he is painfully aware of Ellie’s proximity. Alive, but impossible to reach.

It’s late. He’s sprawled on the couch trying to drink himself to sleep when there’s a knock.

Hope, sudden and fleeting. Maybe she’s come home . It’s foolish to think she’d knock at her own door, but he’s just lucid enough for it to hurt when he sees Maria on the porch instead.

“Joel,” she says, an unusual tremor in her voice. His heart leaps into his throat.

“S’it Ellie? What happened?”

“Ellie’s fine, as far as I know. But we have a problem.”

He sags against the door, the emotional whiplash making him surly. “Find someone else.“

“Tommy’s patrol shift got back half an hour ago. They were attacked. They sent Peterson and James home with gunshot wounds.”

“Yeah? Not sure what you want me to do about it, seein’ as I’m not a fuckin’ doctor.”

“They have Tommy, Joel.”

The words don’t make sense.

“The fuck does that mean? Who has Tommy?”

“I need you to tell me what happened out there. With Ellie. They said–”

He draws back, some dim internal alarm beginning to sound. “Where’s Tommy?”

“They took him and they’re asking about a girl, Joel. I need to know what happened with Ellie–”

“S’none of your–”

“It is my damn business,” she snaps. “Patrollers get attacked and taken and then it’s my goddamned business.”

He closes his eyes, feels like he’s in a dream.

“Peterson said they’re holding him hostage, said something about wanting a girl in exchange. Tommy…told me about Ellie’s immunity.”

“He what ?”

“No one else knows,” she says quickly. “But Tommy said something happened with Ellie while you were gone over the winter, something with the Fireflies. And now we’ve got people out there who made a coordinated attack, and they’re looking for a kid, and they…they have my husband.”

It’s here that her voice breaks, her careful mask of competence cracking.

“I need to know what happened out there, Joel,” she continues, composing herself. “If these people have some kind of vendetta, I need to know what we’re up against.”

“Fuck,” he breathes. “I can’t–”

“You can catch me up on the way to the clinic,” she snaps, offering him no other choice. “Let’s go.”

The walk to the clinic in the cool night air is enough to sober him up. It takes all of five minutes, but Joel doesn’t need that much time to explain.

He left a lot of dead Fireflies in a hospital in Salt Lake City, including one of their leaders.

No, there were no survivors.

No, Ellie doesn’t know.

Maria remains neutral, offering only grunts and nods in response. When they arrive at the clinic, he takes her by the arm and turns her before they go inside.

“Ellie had nothin’ to do with it, y’hear? I don’t want her payin’ for what I did.”

“I don’t follow.”

“I’m just sayin’…if this is happenin’ because of the shit I pulled—”

“We’re prepared to deal with them.”

“Does ‘deal with them’ mean turnin’ her over to the Fireflies? Because I ain’t about to let that happen,” he growls.

She draws back. “What? She’s my niece , Joel.”

“Yeah, an’ now Tommy’s in trouble ‘cause of me ,” he hisses. “An’ we both know you didn’t want me here.”

“No, I didn’t at first,” she sighs. “But I was wrong. And we don’t know for sure that we’re dealing with Fireflies. For all we know they could be raiders trying to take us for supplies. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Look, I’ll do whatever you want as long as Ellie is safe. She stays in Jackson. That’s all I ask.”

“Of course,” Maria says, then shakes her head in disbelief. “Did you really think I’d turn over a child, Joel?”

“You an’ I both know, times like these, worse shit has gone down.”

“Not on my watch, it doesn’t,” she says. “That’s not how we do things. And you sure as hell better plan on sticking around because if this shit goes south, I’m not raising two girls on my own.”

He swallows hard. “Alright. Tell me…tell me what to do.”

“Peterson just got patched up. I want you to hear what she has to say while it’s still fresh.”

Joan Peterson is sitting on the hospital cot, one arm bandaged with gauze. Joel knows her as a fellow patroller, a short, level-headed woman who knows her way around outside the walls.

“Just a graze,” she says, nodding at the bandage. “James is still in surgery, he got the worst of it.”

“How’d they get Tommy?” Joel asks.

“They fired and missed. Horse got spooked and threw him. They had us surrounded and he was the first one they grabbed. Held him at gunpoint.”

“You think they were Fireflies?”

“I don’t know. They could have been, but…it was getting dark. I couldn’t see much, and it’s not like they carry a flag or anything.”

“You’d know,” Joel mutters. “The Fireflies weren’t great about keepin’ a low profile.”

“They looked pretty ragged,” she offers. “So probably far from home, not locals. None of ‘em looked familiar.”

“How many?” Maria asks.

“At least six that I saw, but there coulda been more hanging back. Like I said, it was getting dark. We didn’t have the manpower and they had Miller, we couldn’t risk it. That’s protocol,” she adds, glancing at Maria for confirmation.

“And they said somethin’ about a kid?”

“Yeah, they said they’d trade Miller for ‘the girl’. Didn’t give us a name or anything. They said we’d know what they meant.”

“Was there anything else?” Maria prompts.

“No. Just…we need to get our people back out there.”

“They’ll have the advantage in the dark,” Maria bites her lip. “The council will put a group together tonight…we’ll ride out at first light.”

“I’ll be there,” Peterson says seriously.

“You’re hurt–”

“Just a scratch. I want to get those sons of bitches,” she scowls. “We won’t let them get away with this.”

“Thanks, Joan,” Maria says more softly.

They leave the exam room and step into the hall.

“Does that sound like Fireflies to you?” she asks, turning to Joel.

“S’not common for ‘em to take hostages, far as I know…but it’s not unheard of. If they’ve been keeping an eye on this place they know they can’t bomb their way in. We’re too well-guarded for that. But if it’s the Fireflies I knew…they ain’t stupid. We don’t wanna underestimate ‘em.”

Maria nods pensively. “They’re convinced we have someone they want, so we have to assume they’re watching. I’ll go to the council about putting extra folks on shift at the dam and the outposts, just in case.”

“If it ain’t the Fireflies…what then?”

“The same. We get Tommy back,” she says, eyes going dark. “And we don’t give them a chance to do worse.”

They agree to meet in a couple hours with the rest of the patrol group to go over the plan. Maria tells him to rest up and he gives her a look.

“I will if you will,” he says.

“Fair enough,” she says. “See you soon, Joel.”

He returns to the house. He almost goes to check on Ellie first, to let her know where he’ll be in the unlikely event she decides to come home, but stops himself. He has to focus on getting Tommy back, and there’s no sense in worrying her.

There’s a knock at the door while he’s laying out his gear on the kitchen table. Joel prepares himself for another conversation with Maria, maybe something she forgot to ask, but then Ezra is standing in front of him.

The expression on Joel’s face must give him away, because Ezra holds up a hand.

“Your young prodigy is copacetic, all things considered,” he says before Joel can ask. “May I come in?”

“Uh…sure.”

“I heard there was an attack.”

Joel swallows hard. “Yeah…I’m headin’ out in a couple hours. They, uh…they got Tommy.”

His eyes widen. “Your brother…”

“Yeah,” he says, then his stomach sinks. “Shit…does Ellie know?”

“No, I specifically–”

“Good,” he cuts in. “Keep in that way. Last thing I need’s her goin’ off on some harebrained mission to get herself killed.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” he says softly.

“No,” Joel shoots back, returning to his backpack, tugging at the straps of the bag to loosen them. “Maria’s got the council on it. We’ll take care of it.”

“I suspected you would be called up, as it were. I suggested she might want to join me…reconcile with you before you leave. She was unresponsive to my counsel, so unfortunately…I’ve come alone.”

“Yeah,” he says, swallowing his disappointment with a measure of relief. “Prob’ly for the best.”

“I haven’t darkened your doorstep on behalf of your young prodigy, though,” he hesitates. “I came to warn you…I fear you and your compatriots are walking into an ambush.”

“Yeah? Tell me somethin’ I don’t know,” he sighs, checking the batteries in his flashlight.

“I told you before about Damon and the group we escaped. And my concern is…I suspect he’s not stopped looking for us. For Cee.”

“You think he wants his kid back?”

Ezra nods. “I do believe that is the case, yes.”

“Why?”

“I…suspect it does not sit right with his massive ego to have been…bested by a cripple and a little girl. He is more than capable of holding a grudge. And though I am loath to think of what might happen to her if she were to be returned to him…he is, within the bounds of the old laws, her rightful caretaker.”

“Well…what does Cee want?”

“She doesn’t have an opinion on the matter because she believes her father to be dead.”

Joel stops, turns back to him, meets his eyes. “An’ why would she think that?”

Ezra doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t need to.

“Christ,” Joel mutters.

“I told her what she needed to hear to…encourage her to leave with me.”

“Fuckin’ hell, Ez–”

“The mere fact of my deception changes nothing, Joel. Every utterance, every word on the matter stands true. Cee was in grave danger–”

“How do I know you’re not holdin’ that girl hostage or somethin’?” Joel spits through gritted teeth.

Ezra scoffs.

“No, you tell me right now why I shouldn’t go tell Maria and the rest of the council that we’re harborin’ a kidnapper?”

“Because you know me, Joel,” he says softly. “You know I could not fathom harming a hair on that little bird’s golden head, let alone actually committing such a heinous crime. You’ve entrusted me with your own girl’s care and you know in your heart of hearts that I have no desire to do anything untoward. More than that…you know what treachery lies beyond these walls. You’ve known that life, and you know her place of safety was tenuous at best.

“Trust that I would have happily taken Damon’s life myself if granted the opportunity. And I came here to tell you that if you get the chance…I’d suggest you take it.”

Joel considers him, breathes an angry sigh, then turns back to his bag and unceremoniously stuffs the rest of his supplies in, cinching the top buckle tight.

“Could be anyone. Raiders, Fireflies. No way to know ‘til we’re out there,” he bites out. “Seems we both have shit to answer for. Just have to see who’s doin’ the callin’.”

Ezra ducks his head, frowns. “I’ll owe you a great debt if–”

“Don’t,” Joel snaps, then bites his lip, softening. “Look, if anythin’ happens out there…Ellie…she, uh…she’s better with Maria now but she’s not–they’re not–”

Ezra puts his hand on his shoulder, the touch startling him into silence.

“You’ll come home. And we–she–will be here when you do.”

#the last of us fanfic #joel miller fanfic #ellie williams #prospect fanfic #tlou fanfic #joel x ezra

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