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the-floral-perspective · 4 months

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More creepypasta headcannons!

+the women this time! Also these aren’t sexual, but there will be references to drinking, drugs and sex

And in most of these I am ignoring what is actually cannon so I’m sorry, I just like thinking more on the wholesome side of this fandom.

Also, I understand that Sally is like not at all like her OG story, but this is how I like to interpret her so please don’t hate!

Jeff the killer

Age: 22

Wine Problems: got citric acid rubbed into his healing mouth scar by EJ and Ben. (He splattered paint all over Ben’s gaming system Bc he wouldn’t give him free weed. EJ joined because of the “Tear-alliance”)

Head-cannons

“erm actually ☝🏻”

-He buys a lot of flip phones to prank the pastas. Specifically Ben, Jane and Hoodie. Tbh kind of a big bully. Also definitely steals slenders money.

-Lactose intolerant

-eats hot Cheetos like an mf

-he’s oddly spiritual??? But in a scared way, he thinks the gods are coming for him just cause 🤷🏻‍♂️

-he thinks he’s slick whenever he steals Slenders money, but slender knows.

-one time for a TikTok, he tried getting one of the pastas to do the candy man dance with him but no one wanted to join him except for Hoodie Bc he felt bad 😭

-every normal person thinks his TikTok is a devoted cosplayer, but he’s not.

-he’s actually really depressed about Liu, but he never rlly addressed it with himself. He just ignores it and him Bc he doesn’t know how to react.

Jane the Killer

Age: 23

Wine Problems: Sally accidentally got shoved by Jeff during a quarrel and now she has to get Sally to stop crying before Slender comes back from meeting his brothers.

Head-cannons

-makes so many funny faces to herself and actively talks to herself in front of people (and mid convo too)

-you will catch her pacing down the main hallway with headphones in when she’s angry.

-AWFUL BAKER idk HOW she just can’t bake. It always burns.

-her natural hair is shoulder length, black and curly.

-Her wife is a normal person (granted immunity from slender), her name is Lillian.

-Toby was the ring bearer for the wedding, Sally and Lazari (when she was young) were the flower girls. Lillian’s brother walked her down the isle, Toby walked Jane down the isle afterwards. Jeff at the reception gave a surprisingly good speech about Jane and their marriage… but then he got destructive drunk and had to be carried out Frank Gallagher style.

-she has a separate house and identity that she uses away from the mansion to be normal with her life and be the adult she couldn’t be.

-she’s never rlly at her other house tho.

-she loves having deep scientific talks with people to see their ideas and to read them better.

-she’s a really good person to talk to about passion projects Bc she’ll engage in your thoughts and use her knowledge to help you with whatever your stuck on or thinking of. She also hypes too.

-her and Kate are like the main watchers/caretakers of new pastas to make them feel comfortable.

-she is actively the only pasta who has seen Slenders human form.

Ben drowned

Age: 19

Wine Problems: Jeff and sally creating a doll out of Ben’s hair. The hair from his shower drain. Then them harassing him with it, trapping him in the livingroom TV.

Head-cannons

-The house dealer

-Everyone is trying to get all up in his business

-it takes him 20 minutes every morning doing his hair and skin routine.

-his favorite video game is RDR2

-chronic Jacksepticeye fanboy. Has attempted to see him on tour awhile back ago.

-his room is clean, but so weird. Like he has Minecraft posters and odd shit like that. He also has those LED lights on his walls and a really fucking expensive gaming setup.

-does not punch his walls.

-he has a pet tarantula named Bea.

-he chronically enjoys Pepsi. It’s kind of gross. Also he is HUGE on snacks, like he has a mini fridge.

-also to be allowed in his room you have to cashapp him 5$ if you’re in their for longer than 15 minutes for “wasting his time”

-he listens to a lot of French music and video game soundtrack to fall asleep.

-he LOVES Skyrim.

-he knows a lot abt tech since he’s a video game ghost/glitch, but it’s not his only personality.

Clockwork

Age: 20

Wine problems: recently started hearing voices after accidentally eating one of the special brownies in the kitchen. She’s in the corner in the living room having a bad trip. Lazari is behind her comforting her. (Clockwork currently doesn’t think she’s real)

Head-cannons

-asexual and aerosexual. They just are rarely attracted to people.

-LOVES low-rise jeans

-she’s like hella sarcastic and definitely has disorders (undiagnosed)

-for the most part she’s pretty quiet, speaks more with her hands than her mouth.

-tall af, like 5’11.

-whenever she gets a migraine you might as well shoot her since she has the clock in her eye 😭

-her favorite movie series is SAW. She has actively built some of the prototypes like the reverse bear trap.

-she collects animal teeth and bones.

-her room gives very much teenage dirtbag.

-after awhile she starts hating people she hangs around Bc she’s bad at setting boundaries. That’s one of the reasons she broke up with Toby.

-very passionate about politics and her assignments.

-she has a cat named Bubble, she’s a Siamese cat and she surprisingly cuddly. Bubble hates everyone but clockwork and sometimes she sits on Clockworks shoulder.

Ticci Toby

Age: 22

Wine problems: he was out getting groceries for the pastas and then a group of 13 yr olds started harassing him (he bought one of those lobsters in the water) until he went to his car.

Head-cannons

-buys the house groceries once a week.

-genuinely careless. Like he is so straight faced tbh. Unless you’re really funny and he’s seriously caught of guard.

-eats so much chocolate it’s insane. LOVES hot chocolate.

-his stutter does get better, but it’s still pretty present.

-he does not like Jeff. At all.

-sometimes he can be such an accidental dickhead. He does not know timing like at all.

-you will see him awake at 5AM eating salad.

-he love’s Hollywood undead almost an unreasonable amount. Borderline stalkery.

-excellent organizer and party planner, typically helps Kate with designing shit.

-he doesn’t really know how to feel about the pastas, he just rlly like Jane though. She reminds him of everything he’s lost.

-he loves to draw birds and birdwatching.

-he only kills his assignments.

Judge Angels

Age: 25

Wine problems: she spilled a glass of milk on smile dog and is currently hiding in her room until he goes away. Also got caught gatekeeping by Lazari.

Head-cannons

-can’t handle certain writing styles. Like she hates commas and all capitalized letters. They just grind her gears.

-her favorite food is mangos.

-tbh shopping addict. She’s always buying small trinkets and organizing boxes. On her way to becoming a horder. (Not really but kinda)

-probably one of the funniest pastas (if you unlock her first)

-sometimes she’ll randomly turn to a southern accent but she doesn’t realize it.

-easily cringable. She’s either giggling, lost or just staring. It’s kind of funny tho.

-She’s so bad at scheduling. She makes plans on plans and forgets other plans and it’s highly irritating. Almost every pasta gets annoyed at her for this.

-she makes a mean French toast.

-her closet consists of the same outfits repeated and she lacks confidence. She doesn’t gain much until she became friends with the girls of the mansion and they started introducing her to different feminine/masculine styles. She now comfortably represents androgynously.

-she has dimple piercings.

Puppeteer

Age: unknown

Wine Problems: the clown-posse (LJ, Jason and Candypop) are all on his ass because the past week all of them have seen him steal something of theirs at least once. LJ lost 5 items, Jason lost 2 and Candypop lost 3.

Head-cannons

-mischievous fucker.

- ‘swiper no swiping’ my ass.

-he’s seen the entirety of paw patrol and kind of loves the show?? It’s just so stupid, he loves making fun of it.

-has literally 0 sympathy and will laugh at your misfortune to your face.

-he can eat anything spicy without feeling it. Sour candy tho? You might as well shoot him.

-can’t handle his alcohol.

-calls the mansion his trap house.

-has a bit where he calls the pastas his whores since him and slender have similar powers.

-He’s not that much of a dick though, he won’t attempt to control someone unless they sign a contract.

-hates looking into mirrors, they make him depressed.

-has phases of sleeping 24/7 and staying up for days on end.

-don’t bother him when he’s snug as a bug in a rug, he will kill you if you interrupt him.

-he LOVES a good soft blanket. No matter where you will catch him with a cute blankie, as long as it’s soft. His favorite blanket is from Liu during their secret Santa Christmas celebration. It’s a navy blue blanket with white tiny flecks representing stars.

-sometimes he thinks really deep and looks at the sky at night, but he doesn’t understand much since he’s the personification of self-deletion. He has trouble understanding emotion and how he feels sometimes so he lashes out.

-sometimes he takes it bad when he thinks about how the pastas think he’s an asshole bc he wants to be seen as more than that but he never really shows that.

-British 😏

Nurse Ann

Age: 25

Wine problems: she woke up with both of her legs missing, someone (she doesn’t know who), stole her needle and thread. She can’t attach her legs until then, so far she’s been in her wheelchair. No luck.

Head-cannons

-her eyes are completely black.

-her favorite hobby is cleaning and sewing. Both of them just calm her down whenever she’s feeling jittery or anxious. For Christmas she sees a bunch of sweaters for the pastas.

-when she was 13 she worked at a local restaurant as a waitress.

-her legs come off if her stitches come undone. Sometimes the Pastas will purposely cut the thread as a joke. (It’s all in good fun tho, shes okay with it).

-plus sized

-can speak Spanish and French! She was one of those hella smart girls in class.

-she plays a lot of LoveNikki.

-she was a theater kid in highschool. Her school did sweeny Todd and she played Mrs Lovett.

-her and eyeless Jack are geniuses of the mansion. Ppl tried setting them up, but neither of them felt the vibe. They’re good acquaintances tho.

-Slender doesn’t send her out on much assignments since she’s normally so busy with the pastas injuries. The only reason why EJ goes out as much as he does is to get food— that he insists he can do by himself.

Bloody Painter

Age: 24

Wine problems: fell asleep while painting. His clothes is ruined and so is his painting. In his hella sassy feels rn. Totally sulking. Abt to drown himself in the shower.

Head-cannons

-snarky bitch.

-he LOVES white chocolate macadamia cookies.

-“wtf”

-he can’t HANDLE it whenever someone is watching what he’s doing or questioning his method of doing things. It makes a certain spring in his head snap.

-I’m ngl I think he’s always super tired. Probably cause he’s besties with puppeteer. Like this man is eepy, he’s a cute sleeper tho.

-he’s silent but scary. You will NEVER hear him coming. He could be behind you waiting and you genuinely would not notice until you’re dead.

-I feel like he spends a lot of time in his room painting, but whenever he gets an art block he might as well cry. He genuinely doesn’t know what to do when he can’t paint. His three options are; crying, reading or eating.

-Jeff is always joking around with him, but he doesn’t really play along with it… even tho he tries to get closer to a lot of the pastas. Jeff just isn’t one he’s interested being nice too.

-he watched miraculous ladybug once and almost cried.

Rouge

Age: 25

Wine problems: she accidentally ripped her pants and not in the cute way. Also her worn down converse she’s had since she was 15 finally wore out and broke down.

Head-cannons

-she’s not that messy, but for the aesthetic she can be. She’s not afraid of getting dirty.

-she has a dream journal that she writes in every morning Bc it helps her lucid dream. She only likes lucid dreaming Bc she feels in control, though this has accidentally lead to sleep paralysis.

-she’s super sensitive to the cold.

-she’s really good friends with clockwork.

-she’s honestly a creative genius. She loves literature and art and performance. Though sometimes she gets completely lost in her work.

-constantly in a state of escapism.

-she kind of reminds me of Charlie from Perks of Being a Wallflower. That’s probably her favorite movie too.

-she loves hanging around the girls of the mansion, they make her feel at home. Like she’s sm more comfortable around them than others. Sometimes when a new pasta arrives and they throw an honoring ceremony, the girl pastas will all get ready together in Slenders room! (His room is the biggest and he’s cooking all the food with the boys)

Masky

Age: 25

Wine problems: ran out of storage on his phone, now he has to delete the many photos and videos of him pranking Toby in his sleep.

Head-cannons

-he’s not as much as a dickhead as he seems, like he’s actually pretty chill and he has simple boundaries.

-he’s more of a loner if anything, the one person he like actually talks to tho is Toby and hoodie. Hoodie as an acquaintance and Toby as a little brother.

-sometimes he can get a little crazy, but that’s expected.

-he’s the easiest pasta to scare, this mf is JUMPY.

-he is a chronic shitposter.

-he loves self care tho. Like he’s always showering or getting shower stuff. He has like a collection of shower stuff.

-he used to have his ears pierced as a rebellion against his parents as a teen, but they closed. Sometimes he wishes he could get them repeirced.

-he’s like the type of guy who takes bubble baths a lot Bc he’s stressed all the time. Like he’s ALWAYS irritated abt something.

-you know he’d run a Walmart deli like his bitch.

-regardless, he takes his job too seriously and sometimes slender gets a lil concerned abt him Bc he literally gets crazy sometimes.

-rated T for ‘Too hard to work with’

Laughing Jill

Age: unknown

Wine problems: choked on a piece of hair and the next person that talks to her is getting the belt. Also couldn’t answer a simple math equation in a debate with hoodie so now everyone is calling her a bimbo.

Head-cannons

-she makes SO MANY TIKTOK VIDEOS, almost TikTok famous (she doesn’t show her or anyone’s face on cam)

-almost started a mukbang account.

-her and Jack came from the same Angel hence their name and design.

-she cried when watching the fnaf movie.

-she wears some odd earrings and she actually adds some color in her wardrobe too, unlike Jack.

-she is really into evanescence.

-has an aggressive southern accent (like Millie from Helluva Boss)

-southern lass girlboss sass idk

-she absolutely HATES water, like swimming is her biggest nightmare. She hates the ocean and ocean animals. They just creep her out.

-she’s not really close with anyone but she yaps sm. The one who tolerate it the most is probably Kate, Ben and Bloody painter.

-she’s been in a mosh pit a couple times and the first time someone threw a PB&J sandwich on her. She almost cried.

Hoodie

Age: 26

Wine problems: trying to keep control of the house. Put away the brownies, constantly cleaning. Is forced to give up once Jeff throws ice cream at the ceiling.

Head-cannons

-no matter where, he only wears converse.

-tbh think he watches some anime.

-I feel like if he ever was rapping he’d be really good at it.

-with assignments he’s one of the most efficient out of the mansion, some people don’t like him cause of it.

-he stays out of most peoples way, sometimes he’ll help Nurse Ann clean tho. He probably reads often with Sally too.

-he’s a loyal confidant to all no matter what and he’s relatively judgment free.

-he has an aggressive model walk, might as well call him Adriana Lima.

-him and Toby are like the only pastas with bad facial hair and sometimes in the morning they shave together 😭

-he cringes so hard knowing that there’s a whole fandom that he’s one of the stars in, like he thinks it’s a bit odd.

-ever since toby got high and went anonymous online, creating a fandom revolving around their house and friends. Things have been a bit wary between the two.

Sally

Age: physically 8, mentally 215

Wine problems: got accidentally shoved by Jeff (sobbing). Missing slender, also is tired of the bull going on in the house. Mf is abt to yell.

Head-cannons

-she totally gets annoyed at the pastas Bc they all treat her like she’s her physical age. Like I feel like this is something that genuinely pisses her off.

-even tho she is 215, she’s very childish, like she loves Disney and animated movies.

-She doesn’t really play with dolls but she has a collection of them in her room.

-She sometimes goes to school for fun to lurk out other possible pastas with bad home lives. (They wouldn’t get assignments until theyre 18 at least)

-she’s very easily disgusted by visuals or concepts. She can’t watch Wallace and grament without wanting to die.

-she was the one that started the idea of sending assignments for the pastas, Slender agreed Bc she’s basically the daughter he always wanted. (She’s also the one who suggested they make it like a business scheme to attract those meant to be apart of the pastas so they don’t have to scout ppl out.)

-she is very strong politically and she is very open with what she has to say.

-very creative and smart, she reads often on multiple different subjects. She can speak Russian, ASL, French, Spanish and she knows Morse code. She’s trying to learn piano or violin too. She’s essentially a prodigy.

-she’s teaching some of the other pastas different languages, specifically Kate and Rouge who want to learn Morse code.

-specific requests with assignments are ran By Sally before she goes to slender with them.

Laughing Jack

Age: unknown

Wine problems: losing his final straw with puppeteer. Is about to pour hot sauce in his eyes. Eagerly awaiting dinner and sleep. Genuinely one of the only times in his life he’s ever been exhausted.

Head-cannons

-he cries after sex, no matter what.

-he thinks EJ shouldn’t be called Jack when he came first as the first Jack, but everyone calls him LJ.

-very British.

-he compliments Bloody Painters art whenever he sees it.

-Jeff is always making jokes abt how old he is and it pisses him off. (He got asked if dinosaurs really had feathers.)

-for awhile on YouTube he did ASMR without showing his face.

-he doesn’t know how to drive at all and he has a horse collection of dolls. It’s kinda weird but the pastas think it’s bc he people used to ride carriages so that’s what Jack is most used to seeing. They’re not wrong.

-he doesn’t really like music, it’s so loud for his sensitive earbuds.

-he can genuinely hear everything.

-the only movie he cried at was the Freddy Mercury movie.

Lazari

Age: 16, appears however she wants to.

Wine problems: grounded for stealing a cat, can’t go to the mansion so she’s angsty and listening to old Evanescence. Also lookin a lot like Ramona Flowers rn (blue hair version)

Head-cannons

-she eats a LOT of icecream sandwiches.

-she reads a lot of comics, her favorite comic character is Raven (Rachel Roth) Bc she relates to her backstory a lot.

-before she knew her dad, she had a creepypasta fan account. Zalgo forced her to delete it.

-when Unus Annus ended she didn’t leave her room for a week. She was a MESS

-she influenced Candypop hella when getting into the Scott Pilgrim vibe and dying hair. She was his biggest supporter.

-she reads a LOT. She used to love Twilight too.

-she was a huge Percy Jackson nerd. She wants to play Thalia in a live action series.

-if you didn’t notice she’s rlly into pop culture.

-her and Sally remain best friends Bc Lazari is the only one who gets that Sally isn’t actually 8 years old despite her looking that way.

-I’m ngl her assignments from zalgo are mostly women.

-she is a very sassy young lady. Like she says some of the most out of pocket shit and it’s so funny. The pastas have witness Lazari telling Zalgo off and it’s so silly.

Jason The Toymaker

Age: unknown

Wine problems: the last person he killed is being a nuisance and wreaking havoc in his office. Also got his spell book destroyed, so Slender ordered another one for him.

Head-cannons

-he takes hella fashion inspo from the labyrinth.

-he REFUSES to smell bad or to live bad. Like he likes his stuff at the highest quality. It’s kind of silly.

-all of his clothes is made from spider silk.

-he watches a lot of plays and musicals, genuinely loves orchestras and stuff like that.

-his nails are super sharp and he kinda hates it Bc he can’t do anything with his hands and Jeff edited him to have pink nails saying Periodt 😭 and it became a huge meme in the groupchat.

-tbh he’s kind of an oracle, like he can tell what someone’s future is going to be like. He doesn’t do it on purpose but he’s somehow always right.

-this comes in tie with his assignments. He mostly deletes preteens and teens Bc he can see their future. He’s necessary for deleting future aggressors. He deletes more than his assignments tho.

-sometimes he gets emotional when watching Disney movies Bc he thinks of found family as the creepypastas.

-ice age makes him sob so hard. Don’t tell anyone tho, he’s embarrassed.

Zero

Age: 25

Wine problems: her scarf got stolen and her cat, Maple is hiding behind the TV Ben was previously trapped in.

Head-cannons

-she is very out of the loop. Slenderman had to seriously correct her spirit once she joined. She was way too much for him and the Pastas to handle. Now it’s like a venom situation where Alice and Zero take turns with Alice’s body.

-she has a very distinct style.

-for awhile her and LJ were kind of into each other, but she got the ick once and never looked back.

-she has very random violent outbursts that are hard to deal with. Slender has a detector on her to keep an eye. She’s probably the most defiant creepypasta.

-Jeff and her hooked up once and were in a very toxic relationship that lasted 2 months. Now they ignore each other and act like they don’t exist.

-she is highly into herself. Totally has a smexy twitter account.

-for as long as she’s been with the pastas, she has grown to care for them, though she doesn’t really show that at all. She doesn’t take it personally or care how they feel about that.

Homicidal Liu

Age: 24

Wine problems: accidentally got caught up in teenage drama while bird watching at the nearest park. He’s trying to find a way to back away from the group of teens without drawling their attention. It isn’t working.

Head-cannons

-he doesn’t remember Jeff or his family.

-if you give him orange chicken he’s gonna flip a chair and rip open his shirt.

-he’s able to stomach anything but he will totally critique your food, he does not care.

-his voice is really quiet and sultry.

-he doesn’t really understand or comprehend the spirituality involving Slenderman and other pastas, but he’s put off by it.

-*NSYNC fanboy.

-his favorite movie is probably house of 1000 corpses.

-his scarf was a birthday gift from Jeff from way back when.

-Liu only kills his assignments and no one else. He doesn’t really think about what he does, like he’s confused and very out of it. Though he gets along nicely with the other pastas, he’s respected by everyone there.

-Liu genuinely eats so much food but he doesn’t mean to. Like he loves eating. He’s definitely the kitchen cutie.

-he gets carsick hella bad.

Nina the Killer

Age: 20

Wine problems: couldn’t find her stockings and slender logged her out of the hulu account as punishment for throwing a meatball at the wall during dinner yesterday.

Head-cannons

-bisexual

-her favorite movie is definitely corpse bride, she is Emily, Emily is her.

-honestly she’s kind of a popular loner in the mansion. Like she’s friends with everyone, but she spends time alone a lot.

-definitely class clown material tho.

-she doesn’t crush on Jeff anymore 😭 she’s still demented like that tho.

-one of the only other pastas that kill outside of her assignments from slender. She kills whoever slender and Sally tell her too, but after that she grows obsessive over kind strangers and ends up killing some of them too Bc she can’t handle it.

-she isn’t allowed out often, most of her assignments are required at night to lessen her obsessiveness.

-she doesn’t really obsess over the pastas in the mansion since she’s already used to them. Jeff got lucky with her Bc once he started reciprocating feelings she lost interest 😭

-if she really wanted to, she could literally do anything within 10 minutes. Like she is FAST and hella energetic and such a diva.

CandyPop

Age: unknown

Wine Problems: keeps getting his antiques stolen by Puppeteer. Killed someone with asthma and they hit their inhaler just to blow the smoke out in his face. Mf was flabbergasted.

Head-cannon

-no one knows how he came to be, not even slender 😭 Candypop himself doesn’t even know.

-overtime his purple and blue colors started switching up.

-he says he’s exactly like Ramona flowers. Scott pilgrim vs the world is his favorite movie. Ramona is his favorite character.

-he’s a straight up asshole in a Sheldon Cooper type of way.

-everytime he’s drunk, everyone leaves the house Bc of how annoying and clingy he is.

-DO NOT tell this man your secrets. Everyone will know right as soon as you say “don’t tell anyone I did this, but…”

-he cannot drive, do not trust him in the drivers or passengers seat. Somehow he will fuck it up.

-he’s BESTIES with Clockwork.

-one time he dyed his hair green and it actually looked so terrible on him but EVERYONE was hyping him up, it was so bad.

-he loves going to Denny’s at nighttime Bc he feels special for how he looks. Or Walmart. He LOVES Walmart.

Kate the chaser

Age: 26

Wine Problem: currently trying to calm the chaos before Slender and Toby get home. Also accidentally ate a special brownie while on her antidepressants after downing 3 shots of vodka (don’t do this yall). Straight up tripping balls rn.

Head-cannon

-Fiona Gallagher coded.

-dresses up as a pirate every Halloween and she’s definitely the one who makes all the Christmas cookies.

-she always decorates the house for holidays.

-since she’s Jewish, she also has a Hanukkah setup too for the other Jewish ppl there.

-definitely vegetarian.

-probably the most fit and strong pasta next to Jeff and the supernatural ones (E: LJ, EJ, Candypop, Jason)

-she’s one of the originals.

-she had a short fling with Laughing Jill. They’re like an on and off power couple tbh.

-she bought a vibrator off of wish one time and Jeff opened her package Bc he thought it had his name on it. (Jeff had an odd bruise on his nose afterwards)

-she cuts her own hair and as a joke puts it on Ben’s pillow so that he’ll think someone dyed his hair. Cracks her up everytime istg.

-she drinks coffee like it’s nobodies BUSINESS.

Eyeless Jack

Age: 25

Wine problem: Has to help Ben torture Jeff. Also got lost in the woods for two hours looking for his next target, Toby found him and picked him up once he got back from the grocery store.

Head-cannon

-is normally the last person to find out drama or news.

-has almost walked in on so many creepypastas in the bathroom. The only reason he stops is because he can see the heat light.

-sometimes can’t tell if he’s just hallucinating Bc of how his vision works.

-if you take a picture with flash, his eyes will glow like a cats.

-buys clothes in incorrect sizes all the time. Toby has to go pants shopping for him often.

-the only time he can see normally is with his human disguise on.

-he’s definitely Greek, like his mom was definitely from Greece and his dad American. He can speak Greek and Spanish Bc of highschool. English is his second language.

-he used to get made fun of for the black tar on his mask looking like tears until Ben came along and they started the tear alliance. (They’d defend each other whenever one got teased)

-I feel like whenever he’s hungry he gets increasingly more deranged. So sometimes if he’s too depressed to get his own kidneys, someone else will have to get some for him ASAP.

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kyojurismo · 1 year

Note

Hey you probably have a lot on your plate but I was wondering if you could do all the hashira with a gn mute! s/o who is kind, also a hashira, and only communicates with sign language or writing. If you don't want to do all of them you can just pick whoever you want. Thank you and have a wonderful day 😊

▸ ANSWERING. hello anon! thank you sm for sending a request ♡ i love this idea, it’s super cute & i hope you’ll enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it 👉🏻👈🏻

▸ FANDOM. kimetsu no yaiba

▸ CHARACTERS. gyomei himejima, tengen uzui, sanemi shinazugawa, kyojuro rengoku, giyu tomioka, mitsuri kanroji, obanai iguro, muichiro tokito, shinobu kocho x gn!reader

▸ RATING. sfw

▸ WARNINGS. nothing i think? but i’m warning u there’s a chance some of them might be ooc?? also, i took a bit of inspo by nezuko’s behaviour for gyomei so yeah… not proofread btw & i’m sorry if some seems shorter than others but it’s my first time writing for like half of them lol

GYOMEI HIMEJIMA

since gyomei is blind, it was hard for you to approach him and get to know the stone hashira when you joined them

he spoke to you first, feeling that you were a kind soul and didn’t wanted you to feel alone or sum

you usually communicate with gyomei by “writing” on his hands

at first he was confused and couldn’t understand everything, but he’s improved a lot!

you prefer to listen to him talking, by the way

and to make sure gyomei knows that you’re listening to him you let a bunch of grunts escape your lips

what pushed gyomei towards you was that mysterious aura and he was glad that you didn’t gave up on getting closer to him only because he was blind

he loved spending time with you

and it helped developing a deep connection between you two

so you found yourself falling for this soft giant <3

TENGEN UZUI

oh man,

tengen was so intrigued by you

he wanted to get closer to you and know you better

you weren’t exactly ignoring him, you simply kept some distance because you thought you might be boring for him, due to his flashy personality

tengen noticed you communicating with the others using sign language and he wanted to surprise you, so he asked shinobu [yes, i hc her knowing sign language very well] to teach him

the next time you met him, tengen greeted you by using sign language and it actually surprised you

you smiled at him and greeted him back

he knew you weren’t deaf but he wanted you to feel more included, if that makes sense

“sign language is very flamboyant, y’all should learn and use it all the time.”

your boyfriend loves reminding the others that you’re the most flamboyant hashira because of that 🫶🏻

and also because you two are together

SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA

sanemi at first thought you were so timid that you couldn’t speak in front of the others

but then noticed that you spoke with the others with sign language

you were intimidated by him, so you timidly waved at him before the meetings with ubuyashiki-sama and then “ignored” him

he wondered why, since you acted friendly with the other hashiras

he then decided to confront you about it

“hey,” he called for you after a meeting. you stopped in your track and looked at him, confused. sanemi stared at you for a few moments before speaking again. “if you have a problem with me, then tell me! or fight me, if you prefer.” you looked confused but shook your head.

i don’t have a problem with you, shinazugawa-san.

he found it a bit hard to understand all the words but once he got it, sanemi replied harshly. “then why don’t you speak to me?” you were taken aback by that and you looked down, a bit embarrassed. i’m not sure you would like my company and maybe you can’t stand that i’m mute.

“what kind of bullshit is that?!” sanemi shouted, surprising you. “we can spend more time together… if you’d like,” he lowered his voice, blushing a little.

sanemi started feeling calmer around you and learned sign language more efficiently, so he could understand you better

it took him a lot to figure out his true feelings towards you and he decided to tell you that he wanted something more than a simple friendship

using sign language, of course

he was blushing a lot and you found it cute

sanemi was so happy you reciprocated his feelings

me when he’s so– 🥹

KYOJURO RENGOKU

kyojuro was one of the most friendly since the beginning

even tho at first he couldn’t understand sign language he wanted to learn everything about it

it helped kyojuro getting closer to you and he grew very fond of you

you appreciated spending time with the flame hashira

he invited the younger slayers to learn sign language too

if you two were alone, kyojuro tried to use only sign language to communicate with you

“you’re so smart, y/n!”

he truly thought very highly of you

kyojuro, like sanemi, asked you to get together using sign language, but not because he was too shy

he’s the sweetest !!!!!!

GIYU TOMIOKA

giyu was quick to learn sign language

he enjoyed your company and even if you couldn’t speak, giyu could see very clearly that you liked being around him too

just from your eyes !!

he’s quiet most of the time, so you find yourself “speaking” more than him

but he’s more open when it’s just the two of you

you would go on missions with him sometimes

“i’m glad you were assigned to this mission too.”

translation: i’m happy we can spend more time together… that way, the others won’t interrupt us.

just to clarify things, it turned out that you were the one to propose to go beyond a simple friendship

MITSURI KANROJI

mitsuri loved watching you communicating

really, she got easily distracted by that

she learned sign language from shinobu

“they’re so cute!”

would randomly compliment you and you simply stand there a bit embarrassed

she did that using sign language too!

invited you to eat and drink something almost everyday

i think she treasures quality time so the more you two do something together the more she grows fond of you

i like to think you two casually ended up together

actions spoke louder than words i guess

OBANAI IGURO

couldn’t believe you were unable to speak at first

stared at you suspiciously most of the time ngl

but then he understood and started learning seriously sign language, so he would communicate with you using it

you found him intimidating as fuck in the beginning, so you tried to keep the conversation short

but once you got to know him better your feelings changed completely

obanai was always there to keep you company

but wouldn’t invade your space

compliments you using sign language bc he’s too shy to say those things out loud

and you noticed that before he finally asked you out he used to have red cheeks almost all the time

he’s a softy tho <3

MUICHIRO TOKITO

he was so zoned out that he didn’t realised you communicated with sign language

no seriously, it took him a lot

you were curious about him so you approached him first

muichiro secretly enjoyed having you around from that moment

he asked you personally to help him learning sign language and he did pretty good, learning fast

was surprised to discover you were a hashira too

and asked you to train together a few times

muichiro was slow at figuring out his feelings but that wasn’t a problem, you thought he simply enjoyed your company

when you two hold hands you sometimes “write” letters on his skin using your thumb and he’s always capable to get every word

SHINOBU KOCHO

was the only one who was already familiar with sign language

but that didn’t mean that you couldn’t help her improve

that was what drew you closer actually

kindly reminded every single person in the demon slayer corps to learn and practice sign language

[this is her having a crush on you and not knowing how to act, bye]

stargazing with shinobu almost every night was your thing

and there she finally decided to make things clear

you liked her too but were too timid to act on it

shinobu loved taking care of you

she also complimented you in sign language

and you reminded her to smile because she’s beautiful

▸ BEFORE LEAVING. reblog and comments are super appreciated. thank you so much for reading! should i write something similar for the kamaboko squad too <3

#📂 — writing !!#gyomei himejima x reader #tengen uzui x reader #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #giyu tomioka x reader #mitsuri kanroji x reader #obanai iguro x reader #muichiro tokito x reader #shinobu kocho x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic

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fluentmoviequoter · 2 months

Text

You Invite It

Requested Here!

Pairing: Dominique Luca x fem!reader

Summary: Despite your sunny and smiley personality, Luca and another man get angry with you during a night out with 20-David. When Luca comes to apologize, you shy away from him, and he has to tell you how he feels before you will accept his help.

Warnings: angst, arguments, alcohol consumption, drunk man gets pushy with reader (none of the SWAT men, of course!), fluff, comfort at the end

Word Count: 3.7k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Luca Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List

“There she is!” Hondo cheers when you walk in.

You smile and do a dramatic spin before bowing. Every member of 20-David smiles in return, as their day is instantly brightened just by your presence.

You’ve known the team for a while but becoming friends with them was easy. They are some of the nicest people you have ever met, and your constant good mood draws them in day after day. Luca is actually the reason you met the team because you were drawn to him, and once you became friends with him, the rest of the team followed suit. Thanks to Luca, you now have some of the best friends you could have ever asked for.

“How are you?” Luca asks as he pulls you into a side hug.

“I’m good,” you answer. Luca’s eyes drop to look over you quickly, and your smile grows as you add, “I promise I am perfectly fine. Safe and sound, see?”

Luca nods and turns his attention back to Hondo, but he keeps an arm around you. While he doesn’t always succeed, Luca tries to hide the depth of his feelings for you. He’s felt a unique connection the moment you met, a persistent desire to be close to you. Most likely, Luca will not admit it to anyone, but he is in love with you and knows it. He constantly checks on you because his love and care cause him to worry about you. Your safety is important to him because Luca sees the cruelty and monsters in the world daily and wants you far away from that. So, he hasn’t told you how he feels.

“We’re going to Jumbo’s tonight,” Street says. “You wanna come?”

“Sure!” you answer. “But I’m not playing anymore games with you.”

“I did not cheat!” Street argues.

“Yes, you did,” you and Luca say together.

“Thank you,” you tell Luca as you lean against him. “See, Luca said you cheat, so it must be true.”

“You would say that,” Street huffs.

“What does that mean?” you inquire.

You take Luca’s hand because it’s easily accessible where his arm hangs over your shoulder. He sends Street a warning look as you link your fingers with his.

“Nothing,” Street answers after a moment. “Just that you like Luca more than me.”

“No argument there,” you retort with a wink. “Maybe you could even the field if you’d stop cheating at darts.”

“It is literally impossible to cheat at darts!”

You laugh, and Luca smiles as you turn against him. His arm wraps around you, and he wishes you would stay with him forever. But even though he is looking forward to spending time with you tonight, he hates that it’s at Jumbo’s. Going there for a drink with his team is one thing, but they aren’t the only ones who notice your sunny and welcoming personality. He doesn’t know if he can handle watching you get hit on for much longer.

Street mouths, “Just tell her,” while you’re tucked against Luca’s chest, yet he is too concerned with you rejecting him to take the chance.

✯✯✯✯✯

It starts before you even get inside. Someone in the parking lot calls out and asks for your number, but your smile doesn’t falter as you rush inside to see your friends. 20 Squad just wrapped up a big case, so you are excited to celebrate with them. Spending time with them is a reward, but knowing they accomplished something amazing makes everything more interesting.

Street yells your name when you enter, and you quickly make your way through the crowd to join them at the usual table. The seat next to Luca is open, and as the team expected, you slide into it without hesitation. After hugging him and saying hello to everyone else, you listen to them recount the details of the raids they completed for the case. Your hand slips into Luca’s when they mention his exemplary driving, and he smiles at your attention.

“Hey, I’m going to go get refills. Everyone want more?” you ask as you stand.

Hondo reaches for his wallet, and you lean forward to hit his shoulder.

“My treat,” you add. “For keeping LA safe.”

“I’ll go with you,” Luca offers.

“I got it,” you promise.

You bump your shoulder against Luca’s as you pass him, and he turns to watch you. His protectiveness comes from a good place, but situations like this, when you’re out in public and men have no issue coming up to you and doing what Luca wants to do, are different.

“Why don’t you just tell her?” Deacon asks Luca. “It’s clear to everybody that you have feelings for her, and we all know you want to settle down.”

“With her,” Hondo adds. “And she clearly likes you, too. What are you waiting for, my man?”

“I just… I can’t risk being wrong,” Luca explains.

✯✯✯✯✯

As you approach the bar, you step around a group of guys to wedge in. One of them looks up when you brush against him, and you apologize before asking the bartender for another round for your table.

“Hey,” the guy beside you says after you finish. “I just wanted to let you know that I wasn’t, like, upset or anything. I turned around because you’re beautiful.”

“Oh. Thank you,” you reply.

Even though you turn back toward the bar, hoping to cut the conversation short, the man takes your happy look as an invitation to continue.

“Let me buy you a drink,” he offers.

“No, thanks. I’m here with friends.”

“Surely they can spare you for a few minutes. I’m sure they have before.”

“I’m really not interested. Thanks for the compliment, but I’m good.”

The man’s jaw drops slightly as you accept the tray of drinks with a smile and balance it in your hands as you return to the table.

✯✯✯✯✯

When you turn toward the guy, with your best smile on, Luca’s jaw clenches. He always keeps an eye on you but hates witnessing moments like this. Luca turns back toward the table as you approach, and only mumbles a thank you when you pass him another drink.

“What did the quarterback up there want?” Street teases.

You roll your eyes, unseen by Luca, and answer, “To tell me I’m beautiful.”

Luca picks up his drink and downs it quickly, too quickly, before excusing himself to take a call. You watch him walk out and then return to your conversation with Street and Hondo.

“Sorry,” someone says as they bump into the back of your chair.

“No problem,” you reply. “What’d she say then?” you ask Street.

“Um, excuse me,” the guy behind you says.

You turn and look up at him, and Street looks over at Hondo, who shakes his head in amusement. None of you notice Luca walk back in and freeze at the sight of a man standing beside his chair and talking to you. As if Luca wasn’t in a bad enough mood after the first one, now there’s a man in his spot flirting with you. He is used to being upset by other men taking your attention, but the anger building in him is new.

“I said no,” you repeat, finally dropping your smile.

“That means leave,” Street adds seriously.

“Sorry,” the man says, though you know he doesn’t mean it.

He knocks into the back of your chair again as he walks away, but you keep your attention on Street. You gesture for him to continue his story, and your smile reappears as he picks up where he left off. Unfortunately, all Luca sees is a man talking to you, and a smile on your face when he gets back. Luca drops into his chair without a word and gives his attention to the game on the TV over Deacon’s head.

“You alright?” Hondo asks.

“Fantastic,” Luca answers.

“Make a decision about that thing we were talking about?” Deacon asks.

The reminder that Luca has feelings for you that he hasn’t acted on does not help to improve his attitude or calm him down any. He wants to tell you, he does, but he’s scared. And right now, he is angry that you so openly accept the flirtations and advances of strangers but seem totally blind to how well he treats you.

“No,” Luca tells Deacon.

“Ten bucks that guy at the bar is buying you a drink,” Street says from your other side.

You groan and tip your head back.

“Getting tired of all the attention, pretty girl?” Hondo jokes.

“Yes!” you answer with a chuckle. “I think I’ve been flirted with and hassled enough tonight to never go out again.”

“Well maybe if you wouldn’t invite all the attention and learn to drop the smile and say no, it wouldn’t be an issue,” Luca snaps.

His eyes are still on the game, so he doesn’t see how quickly your smile falls at his comment. You look over at Street, but he, Hondo, and Deacon seem just as shocked at Luca’s outburst. Deacon tries to pick the conversation up again, but no one is quite as excited or willing to talk now.

“I’ll be right back,” you tell Street as you stand.

Luca sighs once you’re gone, simultaneously mad at himself for hurting your feelings and still upset with you because you can’t see his attachment to you. Street watches you go, and when Luca looks over, he can tell that he undoubtedly ruined the night. Luca assumes you’re heading to the bar for another drink and to let another man flirt with you, and he can’t take it.

“I’m calling it a night,” Luca says.

He stands and walks out of the bar without even looking for you, something he has never done before. Luca always takes you home, or at least offers to, after a night out. On the rare nights that you turn down his offer, he makes you promise to call him when you get home safe. So, when he leaves without a glance in your direction, the rest of his team knows that whatever caused him to snap is going to be a bigger problem than anticipated.

“Where’s Luca?” you ask when you return.

“He left,” Street answers quietly.

You look toward the door, but he’s already gone. Although you should probably be upset with him, you’re more concerned than anything. He’s acting out of character tonight, and that worries you.

“What did I do?” you ask as you sit.

“Nothing!” Street assures.

“He had a rough day,” Deacon adds. “And he’s not dealing with it very well.”

“It’s not your fault,” Hondo reiterates.

You nod, but it is clear to everyone at the table that the night is over. Whatever happened to Luca to make him snap, a long day, or maybe it's your fault, but he ruined everyone’s mood in an instant.

“Let me take you home,” Street offers as you stand.

“I- it’s fine, Street. I think I need to be alone right now,” you reply.

“Seriously, let one of us drive you,” Deacon implores.

“I’ll call a cab. It’s fine. Thank you, though.”

They nod and you hug each of them before stepping outside to wait for your ride. After watching the timer on your phone tick down, your vision grows blurry with unshed tears, and you turn the screen off and put it away. As you sit against a bench outside the bar, you nearly miss the man who ran into your chair earlier as he approaches.

“You wanna tell me no again without your boys to back you up?” he asks, slurring his words together.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you reply.

He stumbles as he steps toward you, and you can smell alcohol all over him. There’s no drink in his hand, so you know the strong scent is simply evidence that he is drunk. When he leans into your personal space, you stand and try to put some space between you.

“I said I wasn’t interested,” you remind him.

“Everyone is interested,” he argues as he raises a hand to your waist.

You try to push his arm away, but he tightens his grip and pulls you close as his other hand raises to your shoulder.

“Get off of me,” you demand.

“You told me no and now I’m returning the favor!”

You raise your hands to his chest and push as hard as you can, but his hands remain on you as he tips back. As he falls and pulls you to the ground with him you regret turning down Street’s offer for a ride. You didn’t want to talk about Luca, but now you would have that awkward conversation in a heartbeat.

The man pulls one of his hands from your skin and pushes you onto the sidewalk. He begins mumbling as he pushes you, but you have coordination in your favor. As you maneuver away from him, you look down the road and hope to see your cab approaching.

“No,” the man says while he grabs your hair.

You turn quickly and try to push him off again, but you can’t get any leverage before he pushes you against the brick wall. Leaning over the bench, you can feel warm blood running down your face, but even as the ground spins beneath you, you feel his hands move against your sides. Turning quickly and resisting the urge to be sick, you slap your hand across his face. He stumbles just as your cab approaches the curb. You rush into the backseat and lean against the headrest. The driver asks something, but you focus on staying conscious rather than answering her. She passes you a box of tissues, and you press a few against your head and try to breathe.

✯✯✯✯✯

Luca has been home for over an hour but hasn’t sat down yet. As he paces across the living room again, the anger dissipates, and he has the clarity to realize what exactly he said and did. Luca needs to apologize, and soon. After pulling his phone from his pocket, he calls you but doesn’t get an answer. Luca sends a text, but it goes unread for nearly five minutes. Next, he calls Deacon, who hasn’t heard from you since he left the bar after Luca. Luca ends the call with Deacon and begins to panic. If they left soon after he did, no one has heard from you in nearly an hour. When the door opens, Luca turns quickly.

“Street,” he says before asking about you.

“She wouldn’t let me take her home,” Street answers. “Why?”

“Because she’s not answering my calls,” Luca says quickly.

“I hope you were calling to apologize.”

“I was, and I will let you give me the whole speech later, but I need to go check on her.”

Luca picks up his keys and rushes to his truck. He could drive to your house with his eyes closed but forces himself to pay attention as he worries that he ruined everything with you and now truly doesn’t have a chance to show you how you make him feel and how much he loves you.

You don’t open the door after too much knocking on Luca’s part, so he pulls his keys out and uses your spare key to get inside. If you’re not here, Luca will call the entire team back to Jumbo’s to help look for you. There’s no sign that you got home from the bar, but Luca decides to search the house anyway. The kitchen, living room, and bedroom are empty. When Luca is prepared to start an all-out, city-wide search for you, he remembers he didn’t check the bathroom. His hope is low, but when he sees the bloody towel lying on the sink, his heart drops to his stomach.

✯✯✯✯✯

When the light turns on, you groan and turn your face away from the brightness. Your thoughts aren’t clear, but you know the light is hurting your head. When you force your eyes open, someone is kneeling beside you.

Luca sees the blood on the towel and on your face before noticing how dazed and confused you seem. When you open your eyes, Luca recognizes the distracted, cloudy look in them and decides you are likely concussed. He wonders if you were tipsy by the time you got home and fell, but he needs to tend to your head wound before he asks how you ended up in this situation.

When Luca raises his hand toward you, you shrink away from him. You push yourself into the corner and make yourself as small as possible, terrified that the man from the bar somehow followed you home and came to do what he started.

Luca, however, freezes at your blatant display of fear. A bruise spans your shoulder, and a darkening splotch surrounds your wrist. Because you moved, those marks are now on clear display for Luca. They look suspiciously like handprints and Luca’s guilt about leaving you multiplies tenfold.

“Hey,” Luca says quietly. “It’s just me. Luca, Dom, whatever cute little name you feel like calling me today. I know you’re probably mad at me, but I need to help you. Can I come closer?”

You look up and stare at him for a moment before nodding. Slowly, you move back toward him and offer your injured wrist.

“I got you,” Luca murmurs as he twists to look at the gash across your hairline and forehead. “And I’m so, so sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it. I was just jealous that all those guys were approaching you and saying those things when I have real feelings for you. When I’m in love with you.”

“Love?” you mumble against his arm.

“Hey, stay awake for me,” Luca requests.

He cleans the wound gently, then places a few butterfly closures over it before bandaging your forehead. After pressing ice to your wrist, Luca helps you up and into bed.

“Stay,” you request as you lay on your pillow.

“I’ll be close,” Luca promises.

He stays in the living room when he isn’t checking on you and ensures the guys know you are okay. None of them know what happened, but Luca promises to ask you when you wake up. If you're willing to talk to him.

✯✯✯✯✯

When you wake up the following morning, you have a headache and a disjointed memory of a dream in which Luca showed up and helped you. You exit the bedroom after changing and stop suddenly when you see Luca in your kitchen.

“You really came,” you say aloud.

“I am so sorry,” Luca says again. “I don’t know if you remember what I said last night, but I didn’t mean what I said at the bar.”

“I remember pieces,” you admit as you tug on your fingers.

“Do you want me to leave?”

You shake your head and move closer to Luca. “After you left, I was really upset. So, when I left I called a cab because I didn’t want to have to talk to Street or Deacon about what happened…”

“About me?”

“Yeah. While I was waiting for the cab, that guy I told to leave me alone, the second one, I mean, came out. He was really drunk and started telling me that it was his turn to say no. He grabbed me, and I tried to fight back like you showed me, but I just couldn’t get the upper hand.”

“He grabbed you?”

Luca carefully takes your hand and frowns as he looks at the bruise on your wrist. You nod and move even closer.

“He pushed my head against the wall, and I slapped him, he tripped, and I just jumped into the cab without thinking. I- I would have called you once I was safe, but you clearly weren’t happy with me when you left.”

Luca closes his eyes as you continue.

“It hurt, Dom, what you said. I don’t try to invite it, you know. Whenever those guys make passes at me, I turn them down. So, when you basically said it was my fault that they don’t listen or respect me, I was really surprised, and it hurt my feelings.”

“I’m sorry. I- I didn’t even mean it. You don’t invite it, I know that. Trust me, I know that.”

“What does that mean?”

“That I know firsthand what it is like to be pulled in by you. I fell in love with you,” he admits. “And I didn’t have a bit of say in it. You walked into my life, and then I wanted you in it all the time. I care about you, so much, and seeing all those men close to you, where I want to be, made me angry or jealous. But taking it out on you was- should have never happened, and I’m truly sorry.”

Your brows furrow as Luca speaks, and when he finishes, you ask, “You- you didn’t know I turned them down, did you?”

“No.”

“I always do. Not just because I don’t like it, but because I have feelings for you.”

Luca’s eyes drop away from yours, and he feels worse upon hearing that your actions were at least in part done out of care for him.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“Stop,” you request.

Your wrist is still in his grasp, so you raise your other hand to cup his jaw.

“You said you fell in love with me,” you mumble. “Which is great, because I love you.”

Before Luca can react, you close the distance between you and kiss him. Luca’s hands move to either side of your neck, mindful of your pain as he kisses you. The memory of the hurt he caused drifts further from your mind with each movement, and knowing that Luca loves you, too, brings your smile back for a whole new reason.

Luca’s phone rings, but he doesn’t stop kissing you. When your phone rings immediately after, you pull back and answer it.

You hide your smile as you listen to the person on the other end. “It’s for you,” you tell Luca as you pass him your phone. “Just remember I love you.”

“Hello?” he asks.

“Dominique Luca!” Street begins.

#hanna writes✯#dominique luca x reader #dominique luca #swat x reader #swat cbs #requests #fem!reader

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itsgameofthronesimagines · 1 year

Text

Strong Dragons (Part One)

(Gif not mine)

Fandom: House of the Dragon

Masterlist Here

Pairing: Daemon x Fem!Reader x Rhaenyra

Warnings: NSFW! 18+ only! Smut, mature themes and language, P in V, arranged marriages, unprotected rough/raw sex (wrap it before you tap it), virginity loss, incest, daemon growls (enough said), angst, mentions of period blood, infertility struggles, threesomes, etc. (I’m so sorry if I miss anything I’m just writing the warnings down as I remember them)

Word Count: 4,032

Summary: Lady Y/n is chosen by Princess Rhaenyra for some would say a dangerous, maybe even an impossible task... and it requires marrying her uncle.

Request by: @ivy-targaryen

Author’s Note: I just so happened to be writing a Daemon x Reader x Rhaenyra fic when this request came in so thank you so much for the added inspiration! For context, Fem!Reader will be a Strong for later obvious reasons, Rhaenyra is still married to Laenor, Daemon stays in King’s Landing and never marries Laena, so their daughters are never born (I’m sorry). This is a VERY long one (that is most definitely getting a second and third part cause this originally had over 10,000 words) so strap in and I hope you enjoy it!

(I do not consent my works to be reposted/copied)

"What troubles you?"

Lady Y/n, daughter of House Strong, looks up from her embroidery to locate the source of her brother's voice. Looking around the gardens, she found him walking towards her, stepping into the gazebo she had hidden in. She tilts his head up at him, "Do I look troubled?"

Ser Harwin Breakbones lets out a snort full of snark, "I hardly see a sour look like that on your face, sweet sister."

Upon mention, Y/n feels the furrow of her brow lighten, straightening her posture when she realized she had been slouching. Blinking rapidly to try and veil her brooding expression, she clears her throat and nods towards the nearest seat for her brother. When he takes up the invitation to join her, only then did she voice her worries, "... If you were given an impossible task, would you do it?"

Harwin's eyebrows furrow, an expression fairly similar to Y/n's. By all accounts, apart from their genders, they were twins, and Y/n is reminded of this as she watched her brother similarly shift in his seat before replying, "Awfully vague question. If you truly want advice from your brother, wouldn't you want to be a bit more specific?"

"If I wanted advice, I'd go to Larys," the quick remark forces out a snort from Harwin. Y/n faintly smiles before urging him on with a stiff nod, "Just answer the question."

Silence lingers as he ponders on said question. Harwin listens to the wind brushing through the vines that have climbed the pillars of the gazebo. He answers boldly, like the strong soldier he was, "Nothing is impossible. Not for me. Not for us. House Strong knows no task that is too impossible to accomplish."

Y/n looked back down at her embroidery to hide her disappointment. She was afraid he would say that, furiously pulling the needle and threading through the fabric. Despite hiding her emotions, Harwin took her silent response as a recoil, worrying him further as he leans closer to her, talking quietly in case the question was for a more personal matter, "Can I ask who gave you this burden?"

The needle paused in Y/n's hand, her eyes still examining her threaded pattern as she mumbled, "The princess."

Harwin's worry eases some, shoulders visibly relaxing under his armor. He smiles warmly with encouragement, "Princess Rhaenyra would not have asked... whatever-it-is from you if she did not believe you could do it. She's also smart. I don't believe anything's impossible for her either," when his sister remained unconvinced, Harwin reaches out to still her hand from stabbing her embroidery with the needle, "She is to be our queen someday, Y/n... Whatever she wants from you, as long as you are not to be harmed, I believe you should do it."

Y/n's shoulders rise and fall as she sighs through her nose, watching Harwin's hand before finally looking up at him, "She wants me to go with her if and when she leaves for Dragonstone."

Not a complete lie, but one nonetheless, and it only added to the weight already heavy on her burdened shoulders. Harwin's eyebrows furrow again, but more so in confusion, "And why is that such an impossible task?"

"... Convincing Father of it is one, and being unwed is another. I doubt Father would let me go if he intends on finding me a husband."

Ser Breakbones scoffs, "Father cannot deny the princess, Y/n. He'll have to agree if she asks you to go with her."

"But the King--"

"Princess Rhaenyra has the King wrapped around her finger. She will get her father to agree to this arrangement, and then our father will really have no choice."

He stands suddenly, remembering that he had the City Watch to attend to and he had only meant to bid his sister a good day. Before he leaves, however, he smiles down and pats Y/n's shoulder, "It's an honor to have the heir to the throne request your service. Politically, the relationship between our houses would strengthen if you choose to accept the princess' proposal. Give it some thought, sister. I know in the end, whatever you choose, I'll believe it to be the right choice."

~~~~~~~~~

Her brother wasn't at all helpful in her struggles, but Y/n had appreciated his words, nevertheless. She knew she wouldn't get his full support if he had known the full truth, but he had answered as she knew he would with what she had given him. That night, as instructed, she slipped into the secret passageways of the Red Keep. Following the drawings that were quickly scrawled onto a piece of parchment, Y/n wandered cautiously down the tunnels, avoiding any source of light she caught sight of. Eventually, she makes it to a small stairwell and climbs up, finding the outline of a door on the top of the stairs. Ignoring the dust and cobwebs, Y/n places her hands on the door and gives it an experimental push. When it didn't budge, she pushed harder, quickly catching herself when the door gave in.

She nearly stumbled into the chambers revealed on the other side. Looking around, her eyes widen in amazement to find herself in Princess Rhaenyra's chambers, the very same Targaryen who was watching Y/n expectedly from her seat next to the hearth on the far side of the room. When Y/n's gaze caught hers, the Strong woman straightened her posture, quickly brushing the dust off her skirt and bowing respectively, parchment paper still clutched in hand.

Rhaenyra smiled, amusement shining in her eyes unless Y/n had mistaken it for the fireplace reflecting off her violet orbs. The princess rose from her chair and slowly crossed the room to the other woman, hands clasped in front of her, "Find your way here well enough?"

"Yes, Princess," Y/n curtly answered. She was nearly startled out of her manners, however, when a large hand reached around her and snatched the parchment from her hands. Dark hair falling over her shoulder as she spun her head, Y/n nearly lost her bravery when Daemon Targaryen stood beside her, seamlessly emerging from the shadows of the room. The prince barely acknowledged her presence, staring down at the small map he had drawn for Y/n as it crinkled in his hands.

Finally, he looked up once Rhaenyra had joined his side, the two Targaryens both staring at Y/n with their matching eyes, looming over her with a fierceness so similar to a dragon. Daemon allows a small smirk to grace his lips, "Incredible architecture, wouldn't you agree?"

Y/n quickly nodded when she guessed that he was referring to the secret tunnels, now slightly shaking, "Yes, my prince."

"Maegor the Cruel had the secret tunnels and passageways built throughout the Red Keep back when he was King. They say after construction was finished, he threw a grand feast for the hands and minds behind the building process," Daemon took the parchment and held it over a lit candlestick stationed on a pillar beside him, watching the remnants of his maps slowly disappear into flames before freeing his hand off it and fixing his gaze back on Y/n. The young woman tried her best not to cower in fear as he took one step closer to her again, "And after three days, he had them all killed so no one but him would know how to navigate the tunnels and trapdoors."

A hidden threat, veiled by his intention. Y/n forced her hands to stay still by folding them in front of her body, unable to meet the prince's eyes when he stepped far too close to her, close enough to feel his breath on her face as she whispered, "I will not breathe of word of this to anyone."

Daemon tilts his head, smirking as though he was playing with his food, "And what made you think I would suggest such a thing?"

"Daemon," both his and Y/n's eyes remember Rhaenyra and look to face her. The princess appeared patient, encouraging her uncle with a brief nod, "I trust her."

Once her uncle had stepped away and dutifully stood at her side, Rhaenyra turned back to Y/n, thinly smiling, "Have you made a decision?"

"I have, Princess..." Y/n nods again, trying to catch her breath after Daemon has stolen hers. She basked in her personal space, able to think straight without the two dragons lingering ever so close to her. Taking a deep breath and regaining her courage, Y/n lifts her chin and turns to Daemon, "I will marry you. I will wed you and bed you. I will give you the children you and Princess Rhaenyra so desire and pass them off as hers with Ser Laenor."

Rhaenyra's eyes were the only thing to give away her relief and veiled excitement. Daemon, however, remained impassive, unwilling to share whatever emotions he was feeling with the stranger in the room he did not yet trust. He keeps his gaze hard, staring deeply into Y/n's as if trying to fish out a lie, "You understand that while you will be the one to bear them, you will not be the one to raise them. When they are born, you promise to not hold motherhood over them and entrust this to the Princess Rhaenyra."

It was not a question or a request, more so a demand. Despite Daemon's bluntness, Y/n nods obediently, "If that is the princess' wish, yes."

Rhaenyra glides over to the woman, gingerly taking her hands in her own. Y/n couldn't find herself able to stare directly into the princess' gaze and so glanced down at their conjoined hands. Rhaenyra's skin was fair and much paler than hers in comparison. Y/n had a few small scars littered over her hands from various stories of her childhood, while Rhaenyra's was visibly flawless, apart from the feel of her palms. They were rough, as Y/n observed, most likely from the use of dragon-riding.

Y/n forces herself to look up, only to be rewarded with a grateful nod from Rhaenyra and a kind smile, "Thank you, my lady. You have no idea how much this means to me."

~~~~~~~~~

The next day, Daemon approached the King and asked for Lady Y/n's hand in marriage. Viserys was delighted that his brother had found a new wife so soon after Lady Royce's death and after the scandal with Rhaenyra and immediately confided in Lyonel Strong for his approval. His Hand, of course, agreed to this proposal between his daughter and Prince Daemon and so a ceremony was quickly planned to take place within a fortnight.

Preparations were made and everyone appeared to be excited about the event, bustling about and whispering with joy amongst themselves. Many of the ladies of the court giggled and gossiped with each other, fawning over Prince Daemon and commenting on how Lady Y/n was incredibly lucky.

If Harwin had a suspicion, he never showed it. Instead, he congratulated his sister on her proposal and promised to be her ally against her future husband should she ever need it. On the day the ceremony was set to take place, Y/n found herself surrounded by maids and other ladies of the court as they helped her prepare for her wedding. Just as they had fully dressed her in a white dress filled with embroidered dragons in red thread, the doors of Y/n's chambers opened to reveal the princess and Ser Harwin. The ladies and servants all bow and made a quick escape when Rhaenyra asked them to leave. Once they were alone, Rhaenyra nodded to Harwin and fondly watched as Ser Breakbones crossed the room to gather his sister up in a tight embrace.

"You look beautiful," he compliments, petting down her hair while looking her in the eyes, "The princess wishes to do your hair, but I will be just outside if you need anything."

Y/n nods and briefly smiles in answer. Before she could even say a word, Harwin had left the room and closed the doors behind him. Rhaenyra waits a moment before joining Y/n at her vanity mirror, instructing the bride-to-be to sit down while she took a brush to her dark hair. The two women were silent for the moment as Rhaenyra ran the brush through Y/n's hair, time and time again until it felt like silk running through her fingers. Then, the princess moved on to braiding certain locks and forming a halo on top of the bride's head, similar to something a Targaryen would wear.

"I understand what we are asking of you is a heavy burden," the princess spoke gently, "And I understand it will be difficult, but I want you to know that I owe you my life for this. You have my gratitude and I will never forget this. You're a true friend to the crown. Daemon may say whatever he likes, but as for me, I still want you to be a part of the children's lives. To them, you will be a distant cousin and an aunt, but to me, you will be every bit of a mother to them as I."

Y/n doesn't nod in an attempt not to ruin Rhaenyra's work on her hair. The curiosity got the best of her as she opened her mouth, "How will we hide any pregnancy? Will we have a maester we can trust?"

"We have a plan," Rhaenyra doesn't elaborate beyond that, "And we will act on it once we are sure you are with child."

"Will Ser Laenor be in the know of it?"

She nods, "He knows."

"And he approves?"

"He does," Rhaenyra finishes the braids, her hands finding rest on Y/n's shoulders. The two women stare into each other's reflection in the mirror, a small shadow taking over the princess' eyes as she spoke, "We did try, you know. Many times, in fact. But nothing came of it. When I turned to Daemon for help... still, nothing happened. As the future queen, it is vital that I have heirs of my own someday. If I am truly barren, well..." she squeezes Y/n's shoulders, "At least this way, the children will still have Targaryen blood running through their veins."

Y/n bites her lip, not voicing what she truly thought to the princess. Daemon never hid his disgust for his first wife, Rhea Royce. Everyone heard him spit terrible things about her, darkly stating his wife to be 'his bronze bitch' among other profanities. With one look at her own reflection, Y/n wanted to flinch away at her Strong features. It didn't take a fool to know that Prince Daemon had a taste for women with silver hair, but not just any woman. Some speculated that Daemon had only ever loved one woman, and could never have her. All the lords and ladies in court looked no further than Rhaenyra herself, knowing that she could ask Daemon to take over the world for her, and her uncle would do so without question. Y/n had once speculated these rumors, and now her arrangement with the uncle and niece only confirmed it.

Finally, Y/n turned away from the mirror to look up at the princess with as much honesty as she could muster, "I cannot guarantee the children will have silver hair."

Rhaenyra faintly smiles, her hand hovering over Y/n's hair as if wanting to run her fingers through it, but wisely decided against it, "We will cross that bridge when we come to it."

~~~~~~~~~

The wedding went by quickly, Y/n could scarcely remember it whenever she looked back. The ceremony played out like a rehearsal, vows full of monotone and kisses exchanged in practice. The celebration afterward was one so grand that Y/n had a moment to forget her sorrows. The feast was large and not only was wine being served but also ale and mead as well. Y/n had her father to thank for providing her favorite drink, her cups mostly filled with a honey mead sent from Dorne. She danced her troubles away with anyone and everyone, but not her new husband. Daemon barely paid a mind to her, instead seating himself beside the King as they joked and laughed as if they were boys again. Y/n wasn't too bothered by this as practically everyone danced with her. Her father and Harwin were the first to do so, her younger brother, Larys, was unable to take part in the dancing. Members of the King's small council danced with her, and their sons. The Sea Snake himself, Lord Vaemond, and Ser Laenor all danced with her. With knowing eyes, Laenor passed the bride off to his wife once a new song began, and Y/n was too stunned to remember her manners as Princess Rhaenyra took her hands and led her into a lovely, slow dance.

"I suppose this makes me your aunt now, Princess," Y/n finds herself speaking her mind more than usual, her mead finally dulling her restless mind.

Rhaenyra huffed out a laugh, linking her arm through Y/n's opposite as they spun around each other in a circle, "It does, my lady. Although from this moment forward, I would like to call you a friend as well."

"Whatever you wish for, Princess."

The bedding ceremony was not as enjoyable as the feast, but suppose that is why Y/n drank many cups of mead before that. She was horrified at the idea of everyone in court watching her, including her brothers and father, but was relieved to learn that Daemon had forbidden the court to watch. Y/n will later hear that Daemon himself spoke to the King about this, stating that he had every intention of consummating his marriage with his second bride, seeing as she was the one he chose, unlike Lady Royce, and that there was no need for his brother to watch and make sure. The lords still brought the bride to bed and the ladies brought the groom, but there was no undressing or an audience during the consummation.

Well, all but one audience.

Later, after the lords and ladies had gone, Rhaenyra slipped into Y/n's chambers, undetected by anyone outside. She sat near the bed, watching with interest as Daemon stripped himself and his new bride down to their night clothes. Her face red with embarrassment, Y/n doesn't comment and instead turns her head away to observe the far wall of her room, nearly jumping out of her skin when Daemon pulled her nightgown up, exposing her naked form to the cool air.

Y/n's eyes screw shut and her entire body stiffens when she felt the tip of Daemon's erection run over her folds, barely giving enough time to prep her before he completely sheaths himself inside of her. It's tight and it burns, causing Y/n to throw her hand over her mouth to stifle the cry of pain forced out of her. Daemon lets out a small growl and doesn't give her time to adjust, moving back out of her only to slide back in. His hips meet hers once she's able to take him fully without much resistance, and yet all Y/n can do was either shut her eyes or watch the wall, wanting to hide her body and shame into the very mattress Daemon began to fuck her into.

"Relax, Lady Y/n," Rhaenyra softly soothed the woman, her voice closer than what Y/n remembered. Turning her head, Y/n found her now sitting on the edge of the bed, hovering over the newlyweds' writhing forms. Rhaenyra's eyes appeared curious, intrigued by whatever she finds when Y/n's gaze meets her. The princess leans forward and finds Y/n's hand, sliding her own fingers in between Lady Strong's, "If you relax your body, it will hurt less."

Y/n tries to listen and obey, taking a few shaking breaths to calm herself, despite Daemon's hips snapping harshly into hers, forcing her breasts to bounce. The slight friction of Y/n's skewed nightgown brushing over her nipples sends a chill down her spine, and for a moment she forgets the pain, shivering as her hand tightly holds Rhaenyra's, briefly forgetting her embarrassment. Daemon grunts at the feel of her walls tightening around him, ever so slightly, slick sounds now filling the air instead of raw, dry claps. For the most part, he had been focused more on thrusting instead of acknowledging his wife, keeping his eyes lowered as he watches his cock disappear into her wet cunt with each snap of his hips. He refused to watch Y/n as he beds her, more focused on his goal than on pleasure.

However, after a long stretch of time, the prince found it harder and harder to peak, desperate for release as he starts thrusting harder and faster. Y/n bites the inside of her cheek so as not to scream, forcing her eyes closed again to stop the unshed tears from falling. Daemon's grunts were less pleasurable and were more out of frustration, still avoiding his wife's face and body out of a stubborn will.

Rhaenyra can see the exhaustion on her uncle's face and so she takes matters into her own hands. Still hanging onto Y/n, the princess uses her free hand to cup Daemon's face, forcing him to look up at her. Daemon's eyes meet hers and she could see the lust for her pooling in his hard gaze. She could see his desire but also his frustration. Rhaenyra leans in and kisses Daemon, moaning straight into his mouth.

He had spilled inside of Y/n soon after that, the Lady Strong relieved for it to finally be over.

~~~~~~~~~

However, she quickly realized that it would be far from over. She had promised to bring forth a child for Rhaenyra and Daemon Laenor, and until she did so, she would have to let Daemon back into her bed. It's not as though Rhaenyra wanted Laenor to share Y/n's bed, although Y/n was sure that she was far from Laenor's fancy anyway, but Daemon was now her lawful husband, and a child from him would be perfect for Rhaenyra. Besides, Y/n was positive that Rhaenyra would prefer to have a child from Daemon over her own husband.

For several nights after her wedding, Y/n would be accompanied by her husband and her newly appointed niece. And for several nights, after Daemon was finished, both he and Rhaenyra would leave her chambers, alone and sore in her bed. The nights weren't so bad after a fashion, and perhaps that was because Rhaenyra made it bearable for Y/n. Every morning after, Y/n was visited by the princess, and a tray of food and drink would come with her. Y/n was surprised but also inwardly delighted by Rhaenyra's kindness. Both of the women broke their fasts together so much that it became a tradition every single day. It even came to a point where even if Daemon didn't bed Y/n, Rhaenyra would still visit with her aunt the morning after.

A month had gone by and Rhaenyra sat in her normal seat at Y/n's table, sipping on her morning tea while staring out the balcony. The peaceful silence that usually followed this routine visit was oddly charged and heavy. The princess sensed this, glancing over to Y/n only to find the other woman staring down at her lap as if in shame.

"What is it?" She found herself asking, although her stomach turned with the suspicion that she already knew.

Y/n looked up, sighing in exhaustion, "My flower came this morning."

Disappointed, Rhaenyra only blinks, nodding while setting her cup down, "I can't say I'm surprised. It was foolish to get my hopes up that everything would happen right away."

Y/n nods as well, although the lines on her forehead didn't go away. Rhaenyra wanted to reach out with her thumb and soothe it over but had to pinch herself in order to refrain from doing so. She watched Y/n's face continue to fall into despair, the Strong woman gulping down the soreness in her throat when she felt her eyes begin to water, "Am I doing something wrong, Princess?"

The weakness in her voice nearly shattered Rhaenyra's heart, for once unable to reply with all the things she was supposed to say. Instead, a fire raged within her belly, and with it revealed the dragon within her. Y/n didn't notice, but Rhaenyra felt a cloud in her mind as she reached over to take Y/n's hand.

"No, it's not you, Lady Y/n. It's not you."

She had an idea of who was really to blame for her aunt's distress.

~~~~~~~~~

A/N: So, uh... I'm DEFINITELY making a Part 2, whether ya'll like it or not. Hope you enjoyed!

Go to the Masterlist to see what chapters are posted!

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humongousgothskeletonfarm · 1 month

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tsc thoughts while reading (beware of spoilers) starting with -

david wymack my fucking beloved

also i never rlly liked/cared for thea but her scene with jean and her nickname for him was cute

chapter 3 thoughts:

jeremy being in awe of neil and the foxes is giving me life

fanfics with alvarez in them gonna go crazy now that we actually have a first name for her (and don’t have to invent one)

oh they rich rich (in reference to jeremy’s family butler?!)

jerejean first interaction!!!!

chapter 4:

omg sunshine court mentioned

having the sudden realisation that i can never read fanfics that have jean’s perspective or anything about the how the ravens work, raven!neil/aftermath of the kings men in the same way again

my neighbours are having a party and while i’m loving the music and absolutely jealous i’m not there, it’s really distracting me from reading

ngl i rlly miss neil and andrew and the foxes please let me see my family soon

‘ what you hold onto is less important than the act of holding on itself’ nora sakavic shut the fuck up you philosophical genius i’m gonna cry this is so real to me

renee i love u

WIT WTF JEAN IS NINETEEN I DIDNT KNOW THAT OH MY GOD BABY HE JOINED THE RAVEN LINEUP AT SIXTEEN WTF

i’m drinking red wine while reading and i think that’s appropriate… also i’m listening to that jean moreau playlist someone made and it’s mega depressing https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5zlPt63Ap0AjJQ1Ff5OKrd?si=75oEzLE8SO-bfJwewM8Evw&pi=a-ge04jIlVTJGY

this is so funny to only me but i’ve been hyperfixating on one direction again and zayn just dropped new music so everytime i read about jean’s raven roomate zane i think of one direction and confused myself a bit about what fandom i’m reading rn

fuck riko u sick fucking fuck u put jean into a box with a singular hole for air and left him to die u fucking cunt

KEVIN ASKING JEAN TO PROMISE NOT TO KILL HIMSELF AFTER NORA WROTE COUNTLESS DRAFTS IN WHICH JEAN KILLED HIMSELF WHILE ON THE PHONE TO KEVIN AND THE ONLY TIME SHE DIDNT KILL JEAN OFF IS THE VERSION SHE PUBLISHED AND THE REASON WE GET TO HEAR HIS STORY TODAY IM SO BROKEN

jean’s ‘gift’ from the ravens with his broken magnets, blacked out postcards and angry letters is making me cry he deserves so much better

slowly realising that this book is gonna be super triggering lol whoops

a cool evening breeze 🥲

THAT CREEPY LITTLE GOALKEEPER IS MY FAVOURITE GUY OK

‘kevin saw nothingn but the court, but jean had stopped hoping for more than that years ago’ shut the fuckkkk uppppp i cant do this anymore kevin/jean relationship is so deeply important to me (i say this about everything)

chapter 5:

SECOND NEIL/ JEAN INTERACTION OF THE BOOK IM SO FUCKING EXCITED

‘of course it’d be you, you tedious malcontent’ ‘good morning to you too’ is so ‘morning sunshine’ ‘fuck you’ coded (neil and matt bromance confirmed)

the amount of mitski on this jean playlist is making me sick

FUCKING SCREAMING OMFG THIS IS THE JEAN/NEIL CONTENT I YEARN FOR

‘abominable cockroach’ aww jean u say the sweetest things 🥰❤️ neil loves u too babe

literally devouring every last scrap of information jean feeds us about neil - his slow, hungry, hateful smile and the madness in his eyes (neil baby i love u never change)

oh jean don’t diss aaron, do u know how many fanfics have been written about u two

tsc is confirmation that jean moreau will come into ur house and judge u based on the contents of ur fridge (and then throw out ur stash of lollies)

‘to have a real match as a palate cleanser’ jean is really trying to win my favour by borrowing neil’s sassiness huh (no wonder i love them so much together) ((and yes i know he’s BEEN sassy ok))

jean reaching for the tv screen as if he could save neil and describing andrew running for neil as if hell was on his heels is making me absolutely giddy idk whether to scream or cry i’m doing both and i’m giggling

I bet on losing dogs is so jean moreau coded omg

holy fuck nora, the moments after the raven/fox match when riko tries to kill neil is fucking amazingly written. reading from jean’s perspective as he watches the game on tv, the tension, the breathless anxiety and confusion of the scene is palpable i coukd fucking taste it, my chest is tight just reading it

JEAN SAYING ANDREW WILL BE COURT IS IMMACULATE

#tsc #the sunshine court #jean moreau #aftg #all for the game #the foxhole court #neil josten #andreil #andrew minyard #palmetto state foxes #kevin day #jeremy knox #usc trojans #nora sakavic #tsc spoilers

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fanficsforheartandsoul · 1 year

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New Recruit | Simon Riley x Masked!GN!Reader

To keep this as neutral as possible since anon did not specify the gender, this is written in 2nd POV.

There are some spanish sentences here and although I’m actually learning the language with Duolingo (lmao) I used a translator for this, I apologize if it sounds clunky. I googled how to use gender neutral forms but I’m not sure if I did it correctly sooo.

Also, this is very short because I can’t for the love of god, produce words and a correct sentence in my head at the moment.

Fandom: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II (2022)

Warnings: Ghost is OOC, Ghost might have a kink or more than one, Typical COD Pew Pew is Mostly Omitted, Injuries

Summary: A new member joins taskforce 141 for the hunt of Hassan but you are not what the others expect. Something sparks in Ghost when he shares eye contact with you and you two are on the same eye level.

Word Count: 2,3k

If you want to be tagged in my stories send me a pm with the fandom/character name! Or comment on the fic :)

Masterlist

It was already unusual for the taskforce to get a new member. Therefore it was even more unusual to get one in the middle of an important operation in another country.

It wasn't exactly convenient but when would it ever be?

Fact was that Hassan Zyani, a major of the terror organization Al Qatala escaped their grasps.

They needed to work with Mexican Special Forces to follow his tracks, so if it was one more member or two, it didn’t really matter now.

Yet it was quite a surprise when Ghost and Soap heard the news.

"Someone will join you in México, a new member of the taskforce. I wanted to introduce the lieutenant a bit later, but Chryso was in the country anyways, so I guess now is as good as ever."

Ghost listened silently to his captain on speaker phone while Soap asked the questions lingering in his head; what kind of muppet name was Chryso? And why would the soldier join them right now when they had something so important to do?

Trusting a stranger in a hostile environment wasn’t exactly an easy thing to do.

Price ignored Soap’s words deliberately and continued:

“Chryso is already known to the Los Vaqueros and Alejandro and as you're aware they know their way around in Las Almas. Be nice and protect your backs. We will talk later and I’m sure Chryso will answer any questions you have.”

Great, Ghost thought and looked at the flabbergasted Soap who stared at the phone display showing the end of the call.

“He just hung up?? What the hell... I feel like someone just told me my sister got married in secret and I have to meet her husband.”

He raised an eyebrow but the other obviously couldn’t see it behind his skull mask.

“You have a sister?”

Soap blinked.

“No, but if I had one...”

Ghost sighed. He hoped that the new addition to the team wouldn’t mess up their operation and would focus on the task at hand. Catching Hassan.

You startled out of your sleep when you heard your call sign.

“They’re arriving in 5, Chryso” said Felipe, the Los Vaqueros soldier who was on the look out with you in one of the abandoned shacks close to the village where intel suggested Hassan Zyani’s location.

Your last undercover mission had taken a toll on your body and you tried to make up for it by napping whenever you could. Felipe’s humming had made you drowsy and apparently your consciousness had slipped away for a bit.

A quick glance at your combat watch proved that you had slept more than an hour and you sat up straight quickly.

“Perdón, you know my last OP still got me fucked up... Did anything move?”

“No pasa nada.”

The man waved his hand dismissively and watched as you stood up and stretched your arms. He had to tilt his head slightly to look up to you. Felipe's eyes wandered over your mask and then he said:

“They’re staying put and keeping quiet.”

You breathed out and rolled your shoulder. Maybe you shouldn’t have slept in such an uncomfortable position...

You were about to meet two members of Taskforce 141 - your new team - and group up with them and the Los Vaqueros to participate in one of their missions. No chit-chat and icebreakers, just business, straight-up.

This was how work had always been with Captain John Price for the few times you had fought together, so it didn’t exactly bother you. But it was making you a bit antsy that he wouldn’t be part of the operation.

You weren’t exactly keen on entrusting your back to total strangers. Not with your... special circumstances.

Your habit of wearing a mask 24/7 often confused other people and many soldiers had treated you slightly differently due to it. Whether it was done deliberately or subconsciously, it often hampered with the beginning of your new relationships until people finally got used to it. Which usually took a while. Seen by the lack of other soldiers accompanying you and Felipe.

Strangely Price didn’t seem to react much to your mask. Maybe that was why you felt comfortable around him. He didn’t treat you any different, he had just looked at it once and then moved on.

You hadn’t told him why you were wearing it but if anyone had to know, you would probably feel most comfortable telling him.

And when you had signed the contract to work as a new member of taskforce 141 you had mulled about doing it. Possibly when you would first see him again. You had believed that it would be today.

But he wouldn’t be part of this mission, which he told you 2 days ago. Instead Lieutenant Simon Riley and Sergeant John Mactavish would cover your back.

You had heard their names before when Price talked to you about joining the taskforce but you didn’t know anything specific about them besides their names and ranks.

And Rodolfo and Alejandro didn’t let anything slip when you asked them if they knew anything about the two soldiers.

They did know more than you but based on the little smirk around Alejandro’s lips they purposely kept information from you, which annoyed you slightly.

But well, Alejandro was a colonel, furthermore the leader of Los Vaqueros and he obviously had to be informed about his allies in such a special operation.

You knew not to question him and he wouldn’t keep anything dangerous from you, he wasn’t like that that’s what you could tell based on the few days you had spent at the Las Almas base. He kept his soldiers safe, had to in the corruption-filled town.

And you would meet the other taskforce members soon anyways.

So you decided to focus on the task at hand and ignore everything else. Whether that would involve strange looks and stupid comments about your mask or not.

The Al Qatala terrorist had to be caught by all means. The files you had received told you enough about the threat he posed to basically everyone in this world. He wouldn’t escape your grasp. Not under your watch.

You strapped your black vest tighter and checked your gear.

A low hum announced the distant approach of some vehicles and Felipe looked out the window to see 3 black jeeps drive down the dirt road.

“They’re inbound.”

You nodded and followed him out of the room down the stairs.

"I have a feeling you'll fit right in, just like Y/N."

Ghost was still mulling over the strange comment of Rodolfo Parra, when they spotted the army checkpoint and Alejandro explained why they had to evade it and he forgot the words quickly.

However, when their convoy arrived at the other side of the river in their AO, he and Soap exited the truck and a few seconds later when he first exchanged eye contact with you, he remembered the words instantly.

You had just moved out of the shack, following a Los Vaqueros soldier. Your back was turned towards the convoy when the man told you something and he gesticulated while you checked your back pockets.

Ghost noted that the soldier talking to you was at least a head smaller than you. You were clad in back and his interest peaked when he realized that your head was covered by a hood. Oh...?

He followed Soap behind Alejandro and Rodolfo and walked up to you while the other Los Vaqueros soldiers readied their guns and spread out.

“No me gusta el hecho de que no tengamos refuerzos” he heard you say through your clenched teeth and your counterpart hummed in agreement.

Alejandro coughed and you turned to face them while he introduced you to him and Soap. Your eyes roamed over them and they lingered a bit longer on him, which made Ghost’s heart beat quicker for some reason.

“This is lieutenant Y/N L/N”, the colonel announced and the smirk on his lips suddenly made sense. He just stared and Soap did the same.

“Just call me Chryso” you said and gave Alejandro an annoyed look that the other ignored and you turned your head back to look at Ghost and you stretched out your hand.

Ghost’s voice was rougher than usual when he told you his name:

“...Simon Riley, but call me Ghost.”

He shook your hand with a firm grip. Hazel and e/c eyes met, both hidden in the shadows of a mask. He caught a glimpse of your spirit in the e/c shade and noted that the skin around your eyes was also hidden behind black makeup.

“Nice to meet you, Lieutenant.”

Fuck, he thought when he realized that he could gaze directly into your eyes without lifting or lowering his head.

And bloody fucking hell, he thought when he realized that in a very strange way he found that mask of yours attractive. Like you were mirroring him, like you two belonged together, like you were meant to be his and he was meant to be yours.

There were not many things that Ghost found immediately attractive upon meeting someone.

He considered himself to be more of a “character”-person than someone who cared about appearances first but there were some things that just drew him in...

Pretty smiles for example. Or the hint of a strong character in one’s eyes. But what really invited his immediate attraction was what Soap had called the most surprising and strangest thing ever when he accidentally spilt this piece of information during one of their long scouting sessions; when someone was just as tall as him.

There was just something about someone being his height that created a spark in his chest.

“That’s a fucking kink” Soap had said back then. Looking at you now and considering the growing feeling in his chest, the scot might have been right.

He let go of your hand before he was holding onto it for too long but he kept his eyes on you even when you had already turned towards Soap to shake his hand.

“Sergeant John Mactavish, but call me Soap.”

The sergeant shook your hand enthusiastically and grinned from ear to ear. He glanced at him and Ghost’s alarm went off in his head.

“You have pretty long legs eh? How tall exactly are you?”

You blinked and Ghost couldn’t stop himself from groaning inwardly when he saw slight confusion and annoyance in your eyes.

“Roughly 6′3 if I remember correctly.”

Soap looked at him but Ghost ignored the stare deliberately and when Alejandro told them to follow him, you immediately turned away from them and hurried to fall into the colonel’s and Rodolfo’s step.

“Oh dios, lo dijo.” Rodolfo said and laughed and Ghost cursed himself for not learning more Spanish on the way here when you groaned. He was about 99% sure this was about your interaction just now.

"¿Dijo que?" Alejandro asked, his voice now lower as they moved closer to the houses, weapons raised.

"Una de las tres cosas que Y/N odia a que le pregunte.¿’Por qué Chryso como apodo’? ¿’Por qué llevas una máscara’? y ¿’Qué tan alte eres’?”

Rodolfo muttered and while the colonel laughed quietly you only sighed.

Ghost didn’t understand what exactly was going on but based on the mocking tone Rodolfo used for his last few words, it was probably something bad. He also mentioned your call sign and he was smart enough to know that the conversation was most likely about them.

As much as it bothered him, they had already reached the stone wall so he turned his attention to the mission at hand.

“Where’s Hassan?” he asked.

“White two-story building at the back”, Alejandro replied and two seconds later they entered the gate and he didn’t have time anymore to think about your height, nor your skull mask that seemed to compliment his own and the fact that your utility straps nicely showed off your thighs.

But all these thoughts and much more rushed through his mind after he had helped you out of the river.

It had already been hard for him to breathe with his mask but your experience with yours had been much worse, the cloth wasn’t exactly made for missions involved with water and you - in your words “almost got waterboarded back there”.

Added to the harsh landing in the river and the bullet graze on your left arm, you weren’t exactly feeling your best and you felt exhausted for a moment, so much so that you had to drag your limbs out of the water when it was your turn.

The soldier in front of you turned around and you looked up at him from your cowering position where you had temporarily bandaged your wound.

Ghost offered you his hand and you took it.

“Thanks” you huffed and he pulled you up with more force than necessary which messed with your balance and made you take a step forward.

He could see a waterdroplet on the tip of your eyelashes and his heart stuttered when he noticed how close you two suddenly were. Your loud breathing made his ears tingle and he took a step back, though not letting go of your hand.

“You good, Chryso?”, he asked, ignoring his imagination where you were panting for a different reason. Jesus Christ, you were injured. And he hadn’t even seen your face yet.

You nodded and he let go of your, pointing at your left arm.

“I’ll bandage your arm in the car, that wrap is a sad excuse of first aid.”

You huffed in annoyance but he saw how your eyes turned into slight halfmoons again, showing him that you were actually smiling.

“Whatever, lieutenant.”

You walked past him, waving your hand in dismissal and he followed you, a small grin on his lips, definitely not sneaking a glance at that ass in those wet black cargo pants.

“I’m really curious... What kind of muppet name is Chryso?”

Alejandro snorted. “Y dale.”

You sighed beside Ghost while he secured the re-wrapped bandage. Soap looked at you through the front mirror.

“We had this guy in my unit, Turner, he was a huge biology nerd. When he first met me, he just said ‘Chrysocyon brachyurus’ which is the scientific name for the maned wolf in South America.”

Soap tilted his head in confusion when Alejandro laughed. “Okay...?”

The colonel tapped the steering wheel. “They have really long legs, hermano. Really long.”

505 notes · View notes

cuckoo-on-a-string · 2 years

Text

Younger Gods: I

Younger Gods Master List Dream x fem!reader (unnamed)

Dream is protective of his ravens after Jessamy, and he's still bad at listening. The reader finds this out the hard way.

Warnings: extremely mild gore/injury to animal, language, Dream is his own warning

A/N: Playing a little fast and loose with dream physics, but we're just here for a good time, right? I read the comics an age ago, and thought I might as well pop back into the fandom for a quick swim after falling in love all over again via Netflix. Aiming for 5 chapters, but we'll see where this takes us.

*Remember, to like is kind but to comment/repost is divine.

**If you'd like to join the taglist, please let me know in the comments!

Chapter 1: Just don't bite me

“How did you get here?”

She stared at the injured raven hopping across her garden like it might open its beak and speak. Give her some answers. It’s eye fixed on her, pinning her even as it fought gravity and pain, flapping with a wing bent the wrong way.

Glossy black feathers hid the blood it left on the long grass. If it didn’t move like something hurt, didn’t struggle to hold up its broken wing, she’d never guess it had crashed into her little world by accident. Which brought her back to the question.

It fluffed the feathers around its neck in an attempt to look bigger, croaking as it shuffled farther away. Soft thunder purred in the clouds, and the steady rain dripped from the tip of the raven’s beak. She held up her hands. Sank low on her heels, as near to the raven’s level as she could reach without falling flat on her belly. If that’s what it took to earn its trust, though, she’d get a little muddy.

For all that it was uninvited, the bird was her guest now, and if she didn’t take care of it, it could never leave. Maybe it would haunt her. Maybe she’d just feel guilty as hell.

“You’re hurt.”

The raven twitched, its head tilting three different ways, studying her expression from varied angles, like it would reveal malicious intent in the right light. He could look all he wanted, but she needed to get him out of the rain.

She started unwinding the thick, knit scar from around her neck, speaking low in an effort to keep the bird calm. “I have something that can help. It’s just a salve, but you’ll heal much faster, and I’m sure you’d like to be on your way as soon as possible. But I’m going to take you inside first, so you can get warm and dry. The rain never really stops.”

Prepared with the folded cloth, she crept forward a few steps, giving the bird time to move away. When it didn’t, she closed the distance and muttered, “Just don’t bite me, okay?”

“No promises, witch,” the raven said.

Her hands stilled an inch away from his feathers. So, he was magic. Magic and rude as fuck.

She spluttered, “I’m not a witch.”

“Yeah?” The raven looked up at the clouds and down at her cottage. “Well, this place is weird. And so are you.”

“It was the best I could do.” She carefully wrapped the scarf around him, mindful of the bad wing – and the beak. “Sorry it doesn’t live up to your standards.”

Her first guest, and all he could do was insult all her hard work. He scoffed but held still in his swaddling as she pulled up to her chest and tramped back inside.

It wasn’t her fault it rained all time. Well, technically it was, actually, but she liked it. The water looked beautiful running down the windows, and the cozy fire glowed bright enough to warm a soul when the trees rustled in the wind. With rain hushing over the roof and a whisper of distant thunder to keep her company, she never felt lonely.

Tasteless corvid.

She set him down by the fireplace while she chose a good blanket to craft a makeshift nest. Only when she’d stripped off the scarf and moved him to the softer resting place did she tug off her own drenched sweater, shivering until she found a good replacement. Her wet hair clung to her neck as she pulled a sweater three sizes too big over her head. The sleeves dangled past her fingers, and she shoved them up past her elbows in thoughtless habit.

The bird hadn’t taken his eyes off her, but he still mustered enough faith to thank her. Sort of.

“This is… nice.”

It sounded like an olive branch, so she took it as one. The one room cottage was her haven. Even if it looked small and worn, she found it warm and soft, kind in the way a home ought to be.

“I like to think so.”

She moved to the workbench under the window that looked out to the garden, where she’d been sitting when the raven dropped out of the clouds with an all too human cry. Her fingertips ghosted over herbs and pots and potions as she looked for the little vial she wanted. She only finished it a week ago. It would take three months to make another. But that was alright. No one else really needed it.

When she knelt beside the bird, vial open and ready to drip over his injuries, he clacked his beak at her.

“Not a witch, huh?”

The wing felt so fragile in her hand. She couldn’t let him distract her. “My mother was. I’m… weird.”

“You can say that again.”

“This might hurt.”

“What do you -?” He broke off in a sharp caw, instinctively jerking away as she pulled his bones straight.

“Sorry, sorry. The worst is over now, I promise.”

He had a wonderfully colorful vocabulary for a raven, and he shouted a few rainbows while she wrapped his wing in the best position to heal. The white gauze practically glowed against his onyx plumage, and he looked just a little more pitiable.

“Sorry,” she repeated.

The bird shook himself, stretching and folding his good wing three times to push away the pain.

“Son of a bitch,” he hissed. “Fucking damn. Teach me to pay attention. Kids and their fucking rocks.” He’d been staring into the fire as he recovered his equilibrium, but once he could pause his cursing, the bird looked back at his host.

“Name’s Matthew. What do I call you, weird girl who isn’t a witch?”

She shrugged. “Whatever you like.”

“I was asking for your name, lady.”

“I don’t have one I can give you.”

“That’s not helpful.” He looked around the room, probably on the hunt for something to critique, and although his beak opened, it snapped shut again when he looked back over his shoulder. He stared at her in the firelight, but not at her face. “What happened to your neck, lady?”

Her hand flew up to cover the scars, a landscape of smooth, raised, and sunken marks ringing her throat. She’d forgotten when she took off the scarf. Horror and humiliation twisted in her stomach, and she was wildly aware of being ugly and vulnerable in the same breath. Instead of answering, she rushed back to her closet, pulling out an even longer knit piece than the one she’d wrapped the bird – Matthew – in outside.

He picked up on the subtext, deflating a little and pointedly changing the subject.

“How long will this magic potion of yours take? I need to get back to the Dreaming. My boss is waiting for me.”

The scarf’s tail dropped from numb fingers, one loop short of her goal, left to trail on the ground as she wondered how the fuck her day could get any worse.

“The Dreaming?”

“Yeah. Know of many other realms with talking ravens, lady?”

“No,” she admitted, cursing herself in the privacy of her own thoughts. “It will take a couple days for you to fly again, I think.”

“That’s no good.” Matthew pecked at his bandages, and she rushed over.

“Stop that. You’ll make it worse.”

“Can’t fly with this,” he said, mouth full of gauze.

“You can’t fly without them, either,” she said gently.

Giving up with an enormous sigh, the raven wriggled down into the blanket and glowered through the window at the continuous rain. A little bolt of lighting reflected in his gleaming eye, like an idea sparking to life.

“Your weird little house is pretty close, you know,” he said. “To the Dreaming, I mean. I bet you could walk there.”

“It takes a day to walk in or out.”

“Why?”

“Because I made it that way.”

“Oh, you’re definitely weird.” He paused, like he was finally noticing the blanket nest and the empty vial glittering by the warm flames. When he spoke again, he sounded the slightest bit contrite. “Weird but nice. And I still need your help.”

“I don’t want to go to the Dreaming, Matthew.” She couldn’t bring her voice to carry more than a whisper. She was so afraid of her dreams she didn’t even sleep anymore. Not much. Walking into the fertile fields of the Dream Lord’s imagination…

“You don’t have to go in,” the raven insisted. “Just get me to the gates and I’ll be someone else’s problem. I promise.”

She couldn’t answer. She really didn’t dare. The laws of hospitality urged her to pick up the bird and carry him wherever he wanted to go, and he made it all sound so reasonable, so easy. Just a stroll and a hand over to a friendly face eager to welcome him back. It wasn’t, though. Oh, the walk was fine. She came and went from her hideaway world all the time, but her heart thrummed in terror to even think of the Dreaming. Was she really so close? Her home didn’t feel as safe as it had that morning. The security of the cozy storm left something wanting now. None of this was designed to keep other entities out. It was just… out of the way. On the other hand, if she left the bird – one of Dream’s ravens! – here to recover and his master came for him, it would never be a sanctuary ever again.

Maybe… if she was quick…

“I’ll –” Her voice broke. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’ll try. I’ll walk you to the gates.”

“Thank you.” At least he sounded like he meant it. Lack of gratitude wouldn’t change her mind at this point, but she appreciated it. Walking twelve hours with a rude bird muttering under his breath didn’t sound like the fun kind of adventure.

None of this sounded like the fun kind of adventure.

Fun adventures involved late night diners and questionable life choices after two bottles of wine.

“My master needs me,” Matthew said, like he still needed to prove his point.

That was fine. That was great. Dream would be missing his raven soon. She was tempted to take a faster mode of travel, but she wasn’t sure what that would do to the raven, so she hurried to gather everything she’d need for the walk instead. Tall rainboots, a hooded jacket, and two shawls. She wrapped one around Matthew to keep him warm and tied the other around herself like a sling. With the bird nestled close to her natural warmth, she charged back into the rain. She didn’t even take the time to bank the fire.

Matthew, apparently, decided her rush was entirely for his benefit. “Thanks for this. I mean it.”

She paused at the edge of the garden, standing in the gap in the stone wall as she studied the horizon, looking for something to tell her where to go.

“Which way to the Dreaming?”

Matthew fidgeted and jerked his beak at a random point. “There. I can’t see it, but I can feel it, you know?”

She didn’t know or she wouldn’t have asked, but her breath was better saved for walking. Nearly running, she sped through the emerald green grass and low white flowers in the verdant moss. She didn’t look. Didn’t appreciate. Didn’t stop to touch, or pick, or smell. If she had the stamina to run the twelve hours, she would.

Pattering rain sounded louder inside her hood, and the sky broiled with clouds promising a real storm.

Maybe he could hear her heart pounding by his ear, or he finally realized she was moving awfully quickly for someone who didn’t want to go on this trip in the first place. Whatever his inspiration, Matthew dragged their conversation back from the dead to persuade her she’d made the right choice as she forded a narrow stream.

“You don’t have to be afraid of Dream,” he said. “If he’s upset, it will be with me. You’re doing me a favor.” He paused, struck by a new through that almost immediately spewed out his beak. “You’re not old enemies or something, are you?”

“No. I’ve never met him. I’d rather not meet him today.”

Matthew croaked. “Why not?”

Sometimes the truth was the simplest path to peace, and she’d like the bird to shut up for a while. “I have bad dreams. I don’t want to get any closer to them. Thanks.”

“You know, he could do something about that.”

“I don’t like favors.”

“But I’d argue he owes you one.”

“I’d argue that I don’t care.”

More croaking, this time accompanied by rustling from his safely bound wings. She remembered ravens were in the business of knowing things, watching and listening until they could deliver a secret whole and unbroken to their master. Her cagey replies must bother him on some deeper level.

“So why are you doing this? You clearly don’t want to.”

“Because you were hurt. You needed help. And I don’t want your master to come looking for you here.”

He cast incredible side-eye for a creature wrapped in home-knit outerwear strapped to a stranger’s chest.

But at least he shut-up.

It was the perfect landscape for long walks. She’d designed it that way. Gently rolling hills melted into copses of trees just too small to be forests but deep enough to lose the daylight below the tangled canopy. Any other day, she’d enjoy this trek. But now she wondered if she’d ever be able to enjoy it again, knowing which direction the Dreaming lay and how close it pressed to her border.

She slogged up the hills and slipped down the muddy sides, careful not to tumble and crush the fragile bird she carried against her chest. She slipped through the woods, ignoring the sweet smell of old loam and dried leaves. When the heavy rain came down in a curtain as the crested the last hill, she pushed through that, too.

The raven stayed awake for the entire trip. She shaved a full three hours off her usual time, and she reached the end exhausted. She should’ve packed a stimulant. Maybe an energy drink. Maybe a potion. Something. She had to get herself back home after this.

A field stretched to the cusp of oblivion, a black void at the edge of the turf her mind fought not to notice. She walked to the edge, slowing until she came to the brink, and then she had no ideas.

“I don’t see anything.”

“Well, you’re not a raven,” Matthew said. “I see where we need to go. Just trust me. There’s a path a few feet to the left.”

She shuffled obediently to the side, but she still saw nothing.

“Just take a step,” the bird insisted. “I’ll guide you through it.”

She didn’t want to. Every instinct from every element of her pedigree screamed that this was a Bad Idea. Relying on blind faith and a raven’s intuition might lead her into the Dreaming, but she bet she’d have a long fall someone with wings wouldn’t consider a problem. Some little oversight would swallow her whole, and nightmare would eat her alive, or she’d be trapped in her own night terrors.

“Why don’t I just leave you here?” She could hear the panic in her wobbling pitch, and her trembling hands banished any doubt as she reached for the knot in the sling.

“I thought you didn’t want Morpheus to come looking for me in your weird little bubble realm.”

She closed her eyes. Drew a shaky breath. No, she didn’t want that, but would it be worse than voluntarily stepping into that darkness? The raven couldn’t protect her. He wouldn’t even know what was safe for her, really. He was flying on a lot of assumptions, and she didn’t want to pay the price for his optimistic naivety.

“I don’t know what the void will do to me,” she confessed. “I’ve never actually… touched it.”

“It won’t do anything,” the raven said. “And it’s so thin you won’t even notice. The Dreaming is right there.”

Fucking hell. Her hands seized air, opening and closing like she could snatch courage out of thin air. Damn it all.

She lunged into the thing she didn’t even want to look at, and for the barest moment, she felt it. Nothing. No pulse. No breath. No thought or feeling at all. A gap stretched between past and present, like she’d been snuffed out – or never began to exist in the first place.

Then her momentum carried her through in a boggling mess of physics, and she was somewhere again.

Air punched into empty lungs, and she stumbled, nearly falling to her knees as light, sound, and her own heartbeat returned.

“Whoa! Hey! Watch out for the water!”

Matthew’s shout brought her eyes down, and she saw dark waves lapping at her feet, sucking them into the black sand as the foam tried to climb up and over her rain boots. The fact that sea foam was trying to do anything clued her into the water’s threat, and she darted away with her newly-beating heart in her throat.

“Well done. You see? Not so bad. You’re fine.”

It had been one of the worst experiences in her fucked-up life, and she might’ve told him so if she had the breath. Instead, she barely managed to mutter, “I think I hate you.”

“Nah.”

She stopped to push the last of the void from her lungs, sucking in oxygen like she’d never tasted it before, and the sensation stirred several memories she couldn’t take time to stop and fight. Not on the shores of the Dreaming. Not so close to the Lord of Nightmares. She wrestled them down, threw other thoughts and needs over them like a rug over a stain. Her horrors would have to wait until she slept again, and she planned on putting that off for a long, long time.

When she felt ready and able to move again, she asked, “Where to now?”

“The gates,” he said, like he thought she was the stupid creature alive.

She looked away from her feet and finally noticed the looming doors further down the beach. Silently, she had to agree that she was, in fact, incredibly stupid. They were hard to miss, taller than a skyscraper, carved over in faces, beasts, and scenes she didn’t recognize, gleaming like aged ivory. Beautiful and awe-inspiring in the way an angel or the Milky way inspired reverence and respect. Something a little too vast for her to grasp, but towering over her regardless.

Yeah. Time to get this over with.

As she power-walked across the cold sand, shadowed by the rocks piercing out of the waves, she unknotted the sling and pulled Matthew out of his cocoon.

“This bus has come to the end of its route,” she said. “We hope you’ve enjoyed your trip.”

The raven cackled, trying to stretch his wing in spite of the way she still cradled him. “You find a sense of humor in the void?”

“No, just a sense of relief. Seriously. Watch where you’re flying next time. I won’t have another healing salve like a gave you for several months, so if you do this again, you’re fucked.”

“Thanks for the pep talk.” He was all but straining forward in her hands, eager to get home, to complete his mission and reassure his master that all was well. “You sure you don’t want to meet my master? Or Lucienne?”

It didn’t matter she didn’t know who Lucienne was. She didn’t need to meet any more dreams – or servants of dreams. “Very.”

“So, you’re just going to ding-dong-ditch Dream of the Endless?”

“Yup.”

“Suit yourself.”

The sand made it harder to keep her pace, sliding away under her heels, sapping her strength as she hurried to drop her guest off at his front door. Waves of power rolled down from the high wall, and she felt trapped against the tide of Dream’s domain and the dark ocean lapping up the shore behind her. Everything looked grand and stark. She didn’t belong with her green boots and her rain-slicked jacket. The hood had fallen back, and a damp strand decided to stick on her cheek. With her hands full of bird, she had no way to pull it off.

Cold, wet, disheveled.

Tired.

Afraid.

She was ready for this adventure to end.

“How are you going to get back through the void?” the bird asked.

She shook her head, amazed. “You just thought to ask that? Never mind. I have a shortcut.”

“What kind of shortcut? Why did we just walk for nine hours in the rain?”

She plucked at the end of the second shawl, the one she used to keep him warm on that nine-hour trip through the storm. Such gratitude.

“Because I didn’t know what it would do to you.”

“I can survive the void, lady, you think your shortcut’s tougher than that?”

How far away was the damn gate? Would this beach never end?

“All that matters,” she panted, “is that you’re going home. I’m going home.” She turned the bird in her hands so they were eye-to-eye. “And we will never have to see each other again.”

Sounding more human than ever, the bird tutted, but whatever he wanted to say was swallowed in a sudden, sharp wind.

The austere stillness consumed itself in a rage, lifting black sand and sea spray into an impenetrable haze. One second, she could see the gate. The next, she could barely see three feet in front of her. Shielding her eyes from the sand with one arm, she instinctively tucked the bird close, bending over him protectively. The grit gave the wind claws, and it lashed her bare flesh raw.

What have you done with my raven?

The question pressured her from all sides, a crushing, physical weight ringing in her ears as it forced her to cower in on herself. She couldn’t answer. Couldn’t breathe. Matthew squawked and fluttered in her arms, flopping free with half a scarf still wrapped around him, tangled in his claws. “Sir, wait! Sir!”

The raven’s call settled the hurricane, but the overwhelming pressure remained. The lingering effect of the voice pressed against her soul like a death knell as a figure gathered itself, standing between the two travelers and the gate. The raven struggled towards the tall, dark shape, and she all but slapped herself in the face in her fight to get the dust out of her eyes, nose, and mouth.

Matthew called the newcomer sir.

She was peering up at Dream of the Endless.

He knelt to accept the bird, face dark as a nightmare. Long, pale fingers explored the broken wing. When they pulled away, a few rusty crumbs of blood clung to the pads, and eyes burning with angry stars lifted to pierce her.

He asked again, “What have you done with my raven?”

This time the voice was a voice, not a force of nature. He sounded like smoke and sand, deep and sure as the ocean at her back. That voice might scour her away like a rough patch in his perfect Dreaming, and nothing in his tone said she was welcome.

Now she felt like the raven – a little bird with a hoarse cry and hollow bones all too easy to snap.

“You hurt something of mine.” A snarl carved into his face, and even as Matthew squawked for his lord’s attention, the Dream Lord reached out.

His shadow stretched long and dark from his feet, against the light. It crept towards her, darker than the black shore, and she stumbled over her own feet as she backed away, landing hard on her hands.

“I didn’t,” she whispered. Her voice was long gone. It fled and left her to die whimpering and pathetic, the traitor. Scrambling back as the shadow approached, she shook her head. “Please, don’t.”

Cawing and flapping, Matthew shouted, “Sir, stop!”

The shadow slowed, just for an instant, and she leapt to her feet. Tears burning her eyes from fear and grit, she ran three steps back, never daring to take her eyes off the threatening Endless. She clawed into her own mind, grabbing for the half of herself she preferred to leave wandering the sky over her cottage. A rumble drew Dream’s eyes to the dark clouds gathering at the edge of the Dreaming, and she saw his eyes flick back to her just as the lightning struck.

Her summoned bolt traced down to catch her up in a flash of burning light. The crackle was almost unbearable, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and Dream’s shadow was still snaking after her.

She wasn’t there when the shadow reached the place she’d stood. The lightning blast reached through her to the ground and then back up into the clouds. It took her with it.

An echoing strike deposited her in the cottage garden.

She fell to her hands and knees as the power zapped away into the sky. Mud squished up between her fingers, and she shuddered in place, too busy shaking to move. Rain rolled down her face, cleaning the salt of sweat, tears, and sea. Her limbs felt impossibly heavy after weightless, electric travel, and she bowed to the animal urge to just freeze in place for a while. She needed to think. Maybe then she could remember how to stand.

An Endless wanted her dead. Dream, no less. She had more reason than ever to stay awake. Maybe she could find a trick to avoid sleep forever.

But his raven knew where she lived, and it wasn’t a long trip.

She needed to run.

Chapter 2

#morpheus #morpheus x reader #sandman x reader #dream x reader #dream of the endless x reader #fanfiction

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oonajaeadira · 11 months

Text

Leave Off Your Wandering pt. 2: Summer

Fandom: The Last of Us (TV)/ Joel Miller

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Reader: Adult female. Old enough to have been an adult on Outbreak Day. Wyoming born and bred. Sheep farmer, easy-going but confident and self-sufficient. Likes to sing, not a great cook. Childhood friend of Maria. No other physical descriptors; no use of y/n.

Rating: T for now

Warnings: Hunting and skinning squirrels. Chemical burns to skin. Piercing injury. Joel being a dick in a moment of self-preservation. Ellie's still a swear-mouth. Everybody makes some mistakes.

Summary: You solve a problem for Ellie and Joel really doesn't take it well.

A/N: Set after season 1 and then diverges. Does not acknowledge the existence of further plot/seasons, although I claim the right to steal ideas and bits of cannon from the second game if I want to for plot reasons later.

Listen. I know those warnings up there seem like a bit much, but I promise you all of that is in passing, in service to the plot, and not described in detail. (With the exception Ellie's cussing. That will persist indefinitely.) This is stupid fluffy.

Your gut reaction is to fetch your gun and point it at Ellie’s head.

But the girl is calm.

And the bites are healed.

“Wanna shoot me, don’t you,” she challenges with a mismatched set of cocky mouth and world weary eyes. “This one happened before I met Joel. And this one the day after. This is why he took me to the Fireflies. He told me not to tell anyone. That’s why I freaked out.”

Earlier in the day you’d gone looking for Ellie, hoping to show her the honeybee hive you’d discovered at the edge of the meadow. She’d been bathing in the stream, stripped down to nothing. She’d shrieked when she saw you coming near and you’d laughed and kept your eyes averted, understanding the self-consciousness of teenagers, about to tell her to come and find you when she was done.

And then she roared.

“GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME! GO!”

It had been a punch to the heart if not a slap to the face, which you were certain by her tone you would have received had you been close enough.

Saying nothing, and simply obeying her wish, you’d turned and gone back to the Roost. Ellie stayed away so long that her hair was completely dry and her nose was sunburned when she finally joined you.

Every footfall had been an apology on the ladder. And every slow creak along the porch was following an olive branch to the broken down sofa you perched on to keep watch over the north meadow.

Taking a reticent seat beside you, she’d rolled up her sleeve. “I’m sorry I yelled. I didn’t want you to see it. It’s kind of a life and death thing.”

“Obviously,” you answer, shellshocked. “Reaction warranted.” Dropping her arm to her lap and reaching up to pull down her cuff, you stop her, holding out a waiting hand. “Can I?”

Suddenly doe-eyed and struck by your acceptance, she nods and lays her forearm in your palm.

There’s instinctual revulsion at first, but it melts to wonder as you get a closer look at the scars. There’s nothing of skin breakage, no mycelium running underneath, nothing reaching for you through holes as there would be if you were having one of your nightmares.

Immunity. Statistically speaking, it had to exist, but she’s the first you’ve ever seen or heard of.

“I wondered why you’d choose to wear long sleeves in this heat. I see now. Joel was smart to tell you to keep it covered. This’ll get you killed faster than infection, that’s for sure.” The tendons in her arm flex involuntarily when you run your fingers over the marks. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to tickle.” She relaxes as you release her. This time she doesn’t move to cover the skin. “Out in the open with Joel, I can imagine why you were bit the second time. How’d you come by it the first time?”

“Messing around with a friend where I wasn’t supposed to.”

Ah. By the pull at her brow and the same laws of statistics, you’d hazard to guess that friend didn’t make it. Probably another kid like her. Tragic.

“I see. And that’s why you were being smuggled. That’s why they wanted you. Well, what did the Fireflies make of you?”

She clearly catches the way you slather contempt onto the name of the terrorist organization, but answers your question. “They wanted to make a cure from my blood. They had me on the operating table but raiders attacked the hospital and killed everyone while I was under. So I guess we missed our chance.”

A quiet minute passes as you watch her tracing her thumb over the scar, lost in thought, brow twisted, recounting the ordeal of that day. Something doesn’t sit right with her about it.

And neither does it sit right with you.

Doctors don’t put a person on an operating table just to draw blood.

And you’ve heard stories of what Joel’s capable of.

You’ve witnessed just how protective he is over this little girl.

Her reverie dissolves when you lay a gentle hand on her shoulder. “While I’m sorry they never got the chance to find the possibilities, I understand enough about research medicine to know that the likelihood of their finding a cure from just one person is almost impossible. So while they might have been able to study your blood, they most likely wouldn’t be able to get enough of it or keep it stable long enough to find any answers.”

“How do you know that?”

Over the next hour as the sun sinks in the sky and she soaks up your history, you tell her about your sister. How you and her and Maria were a tight-knit team growing up, how in love with Maria she was, how you were certain they were going to get married one day.

Then you tell her how Maria went off to law school and your sister got sick, that the cancer was rare and the treatment was long and expensive, so your parents had opted for research to fray some costs and keep the ranch.

In the end, there were no answers, not without more donors of her ilk.

Your parents took a loan against the ranch, knowing full well they would lose it, but everyone agreed it was worth it for whatever time it would buy her.

And then Jakarta fell. And the world went to hell.

A few of the elderly residents of the Jackson basin came to hole up on the ranch and most of Willa’s family and tribal branch moved over from their land to form a protective new family group. It worked for a few years. It was safe. It was a thriving little commune.

And then the Fireflies came.

“There were Fireflies out here too?”

“Oh yeah, they were in every QZ, spreading their lies and chaos through the telegram towers, recruiting poor young suckers wherever they took root and getting them all killed. You tangled with them and I’d say you’re lucky you’re alive.”

Ellie frowns down at her arm again. “What did they do when they came here?”

Another story then. Now you explain with a little less nostalgia how the Fireflies came to use your ranch as a base. Trucks coming and going at all hours. Gunshots in the night. Catching the attention of roving packs of raiders. People got hurt. People died.

There was one day when two Fireflies went out foraging mushrooms with old Ms. Celia. They brought her body back on a makeshift sled. Just keeled over, they said.

Funny how the same thing happened the week before with old Ms. Margie. What a coincidence that it was happening when the food supplies were running low.

But the last blow came when the ranch was attacked by raiders a third time. There was a plan in place to create a distraction, draw their attention away from the ranch. The Fireflies knew your sister was sick and designated she do the job. They put a gun to your head when you protested.

It’s okay, she’d said, I don’t have much left to lose. If I’m going out, at least the people I love will be safe.

It was a shit plan.

A lot of people died that day. Most of them were raiders, thanks to Willa and her tribe. Some of them were Fireflies thanks to you and your shotgun.

“So did you win?”

“No. The barriers were still broken. And the ranch was burned to the ground.”

The evening sky is a mix of purples and gold now, the flocks of birds swooping over the meadow are starting to vie for their meal of mosquitos and gnats with an increasing number of bats. Ellie watches one in particular as it swoops up and over the roof of the Roost.

“What about your parents?”

“They burned with the ranch.”

She nods solemnly, without horror, the attitude of a child that’s seen too much.

“And your sister died too then?”

"She got away at first. Found her in the woods a week later with a bite like yours, but she was long gone by then. One of Willa’s brothers did the shooting.”

Another quiet nod. “What was your sister’s name?” she asks as an evening bird calls.

It was bound to come up.

“Eleanor. We called her Ell. Ellie, when she was little.” When you can see the unearned guilt building in her face you bump her shoulder playfully. “It was almost twenty years ago. I hold onto the good memories. She was sweet and kind to everyone she met, never backsassed our parents, never disobeyed. So basically nothing like you at all.” You laugh when she shoots you an annoyed look. “Not that she was an angel though! She had her fire; you didn’t want to get on her bad side. And she was whip smart. That’s where the two of you meet I think.”

“Sounds like you lost everything at once.”

“I did,” a fact you aknowledge as you stretch and get up, heading back into the cabin to light the lantern. “But Willa helped me through. And then Jackson got its walls up and Maria found her way home and I had family again.” Once the lantern flickers to life, you grab your bag and start pawing through it. “You keep going for family.”

“That’s what Joel says.”

“Huh. You know what? I believe you. Here,” pulling a tank top out of your pack you toss it at her and it smacks her in the face. “While you’re out here you can wear that and not die of heat stroke in those knit tops. But when you’re out in the sun, put something over your shoulders or use the tsuga paste. Your skin hasn’t seen sun in a while and the last thing I need to do is bring you back cooked like a Christmas goose and have Joel all up in my ass about it.”

“That actually sounds like a good thing for both of you, if you ask me.”

“Watch it.”

“What? I didn’t say anything! Look at the time! We should be spinning wool! How I love spinning wool. Whoopee!”

“Like I said. Nothing like my sister. You little shit.”

________

“Meadowlark to patrol.”

“This is patrol.”

“Starling and I are on the southeast side of the meadow near the chokecherry copse and we’ve found a honeybee hive. I’m going to tie red flags to the surrounding trees. You wanna put the word out that some of these cherries are ready to go and get someone suited out here to scope out this hive?”

“This will make four hives now.”

“I know. We’re getting lucky this year.”

“Will do, Meadowlark. We’ll radio in before we cross borders.”

“Copy. Out.”

On the way back to the Roost you and Ellie stop to greet a group of sheep lazing in the grass, sitting down and sharing cherries with them from a basket between the two of you.

“They can eat these?” she asks.

“Sure. They can pretty much eat whatever we do. Chokecherries are fine. Just don’t give ‘em the leaves or stems. Those are poisonous.”

This means taking the time to pull cherries away from the branches until there’s a handful to feed the sheep. Normally you’d be fending them off during this, they’d be insistent and impatient, but the heat of the day has them lazy and languid.

It’s also working on Ellie as she yawns, stretching her white arms plastered in pine and sunflower paste for protection, her scar marring her otherwise unburned forearm.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” you hand her another branch to start shucking. “Willa does tattoos. She could cover that for you.”

Ellie hesitates. “Maybe.”

“What. You don’t want a tattoo? I thought you might like that. It would be pretty badass. We could cover it with a starling or something….”

“I guess.” You wait for her excuse. It’s a decent one. “I just…It would mean Willa would know too. Joel told me not to tell anyone. I don’t think I should.”

“I understand. That’s kinda why I suggested Willa. The woman’s a vault.” But Ellie’s fingers stop picking berries, as if she doesn’t know what to do or what to say. “Oh. I see. You don’t want Joel to know you told anyone. Even me.”

She nods.

She changes the subject then–something about him wanting to keep her safe, even teaching her to use a shotgun to protect herself–but your mind keeps working on the problem.

It’s only when you make it back to the ladder at the Roost, one foot frozen on the bottom rung, that you find the answer.

“What’s wrong?” she asks from behind you.

Under the posts of the Roost is a load of firewood. And under that wood….

“Ellie…if there was another way to get rid of your scar, would you?”

“What. You gonna give me some kinda bird tattoo yourself? Is it gonna look like a blob or–”

“I mean, do you want it gone at all?”

She pulls herself out of her slouched position to her full height. “I mean…yeah…I think a tattoo is actually a great idea I just…”

“What if Willa didn’t have to know? What if she thought she was covering up something else?” Pulling a few armfulls of wood away from the side of the pile, you uncover a wide plank of wood, once a handsome cedar coffee table top, now a sunken excuse for a forest cellar door. Prying the wood out of its depression, you reveal an earthen pit housing a couple of shovels, a couple pairs of oilskin mittens, and a covered earthen pot.

“This,” you point to the pot, “is lye. We keep it out here in case one of the sheep dies from infection or illness. It’s important to bury the sheep to keep it away from the flock. But even if you bury a carcass, bear and coyotes will come sniffing around and dig it up. We discourage that with this. Lye breaks down organic matter. That’s why we have gloves in here. It burns skin.”

Ellie frowns into the pit, understanding slowly dawning until she asks with a gasp, “Does it hurt?”

“Hells yes it does. It’s a burn, Ellie. It hurts like a son of a bitch, there’s no way I’d lie about that. But it will twist the features of that scar. You’ll never have to dodge suspicion again.”

“Mother. Fucker,” her whisper shakes, but she eyes the pot in steady fascination.

“You know what?” You throw the tabletop back down over the hole, “I saw a whole lot of squirrels around those chokecherries and they’re actually good eating if you get a few of them and throw ‘em in a pot with some potatoes and onion and garlic…. Too bad their skins are too small to be useful. But we can’t just leave ‘em lying around, you know. So if you and I were to go out and get a few and make a stew, and say I was to show you how the lye works with the leavings… well, something might happen.” The girl looks you dead in the eye, her jaw dropping open a little in disbelief. “What do you say? You wanna go out and do some target practice? Get some squirrel for dinner?”

A switch flips in Ellie’s spine and her eyes spark cold and bright, two supernovas in a smiling galaxy.

“Fuck yes. I’ll get the rifle.”

________

“Good shot!” you cheer as a third squirrel drops from a branch and you share a high five. “Wonder who taught you that! Damn, girl! Three for three. Tonight, we feast.”

“So, when are we doing this?” Ellie smiles as you walk back to the Roost, the barrel of the rifle slung over one shoulder, a string of fuzzy dinner swinging from the other.

“Tomorrow morning. Willa will be coming in at noon and that should give us some time to get a good burn in before she arrives. It should be fine, but if anything goes wrong, she can help and that makes me feel better about it. Ellie…. You sure you trust me with this?”

“I can’t die from it, right?”

“No, but you might want to. It’s sure as hell not gonna be pleasant.”

“Lady, I spent half a year walking across the country with Joel. I’m a master at dealing with unpleasant.” By now the sheep are familiar with the sound of Ellie’s laughter and a few perk up on your way past to follow you lazily back to the Roost. “But, like, I don’t understand why we have to go through all this with the squirrels. Don’t get me wrong, I like the target practice and all…”

You take the squirrels from her and set up a makeshift butcher’s block on a stump left waist high specifically for this purpose. “I don’t want to lie to Joel when he freaks out about you getting hurt. We had squirrels. We disposed of the leavings. You got burned with the lye. Truth truth truth.”

“You think he’ll be mad at you?”

“Oh, I’m already counting that into the equation. I know you seem to think he’s fond of me, but not all the evidence leads up to that. You know how to clean a squirrel?”

“Sure do,” she grins as she trades the rifle for your boot knife and, taking the first rodent in hand, she works it skillfully, tongue sticking out the corner of her mouth, skinning the critter in one go. “Thanks, little buddy. You were cute, but you’ll be gooooooood eating.”

“You’re a hell of a kid.”

“Yeah, well, guess who taught me this?” she says as she morbidly slices through another one, making dramatic death noises as she goes. “Why do you think he doesn’t like you? Joel’s stupid about you. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

“Jesus, Ellie.” With a sigh and a shake of the head, you indulge her question and your own immature angst. “Well, for starters, I can tell he doesn’t think much of some of my conversation.”

“What do you mean?” Another skin lands at her feet.

“He just…doesn’t answer questions sometimes. Ignores comments. Doesn’t like to join in on the joke.”

“This is a big one,” she grunts, tugging at the final squirrel. “What side are you standing on when he ignores you?”

“Huh?”

“Where are you standing when you talk to Joel? He’s deaf in his right ear.”

You blink.

And suddenly a hell of a lot of things make a hell of a lot of sense.

That one time you complimented his shirt and he said nothing, you were on his right.

That one time you poked fun at his scowl. On his right.

You cracked that joke, offered a piece of pie, told him everything would be alright.

Right. Right. Right.

“I…didn’t know that,” you stammer stupidly, flinching when Ellie hands your knife back and heads for the ladder.

“Yeah, that was obvious. I’m gonna go get a bowl.” You’re still in shock as she starts climbing. “Don’t expect him to get down on one knee when he asks you to marry him; he’s got shitty knees too. He’s happy to complain about it if you ask him. Make sure it’s in his left ear.”

________

“Okay, look at me, Ellie. Breathe.”

She nods, her eyes burning with determination over the shirt you’ve tied around her nose and mouth to protect her from inhaling the mix.

As you sit in the grass a few meters from the stream with her arm resting in your mittened hands, you lay the lye-laden cloth over the scar and enclose it with pressure.

Her breath comes heavily. Bravely. Then you hear it change as the lye begins to work.

“Shit. It itches,” she hisses. “Shit. Shit shit fuck fuck ow it’s getting worse–”

“You want me to stop?”

“No shit fuck I can do this I got this shiiiiiiiiiit!”

“I won’t let you go too long but you let me know if you need–”

“I’m fine! FUCK!”

It’s when she screams that you know it’s enough and releasing her, you order, drill sergeant style, “Go! Go! Go! Fifteen minutes! Don’t look at it!”

Ellie bolts into the ice cold stream, sneakers and all, gasping as the water washes the cloth away from her. “Shit. I thought it would feel better. It doesn’t!”

“Does it feel worse?”

“No, it just fucking burns!”

A sigh of relief. “Well, that’s good. Just… just let it rinse. Do you feel woozy at all?”

She just shakes her head, looking down through the water. “It’s getting red. And puffy.”

“No broken skin?”

“No.”

“Good. It’ll probably blister up some.”

Ellie might not be feeling woozy, but you sure are. Was it a reckless idea? Probably. Will it actually work? Hopefully. Do you feel bad that she’s gonna be in pain for a while? Fuck yes. But then you remember when she put on your tank top and just … laid in the grass and smiled. Even if she never wore short sleeves again, at least nobody was going to make a fast decision with a gun to her skull.

You really should have checked with Joel though. No matter what Ellie wants, you know full well it wasn’t your call to make.

Another problem for another day.

“Everything okay down there?” Willa’s black braids glint in the sun as she walks down from the Roost.

“Ellie had a run in with the lye,” you call back.

“Yeah, I see you were composting. I filled in the hole.” She hardly even stops when she reaches you, simply pulls off her boots and heads straight into the water. “Let’s see. Oh yeah. That’s a burn alright.”

As Willa inspects Ellie’s submerged arm, the girl looks up and smiles at you, giving you a wet thumbs up. “Hurts like a motherfucker!"

“I’ll bet,” the woman hums dryly. “That’s going to swell up and scar pretty bad. Why don’t you sit and let the water do its work. Meadowlark and I will go pack your things and I’ll grab the gauze in the first aid kit.”

Willa doesn’t ask questions as you pack up, just the regular routine of information trade off. You tell her that you’ve marked a few sheep with blue dye to keep an eye on for injuries or dehydration. And she lets you know what’s going on in town, including the fact that there’s gonna be a wedding with a reception at the food hall over the weekend.

“Really? Who?”

“Bear and Missy Tippet.”

“Your uncle??? Willa, I can stay; don’t you wanna be there?”

She laughs. “Hell no I do not. You know exactly how I feel about Missy Tippet; same as you. I’d rather be out here. Perfect timing. They’ve been keeping each other warm on and off for years now. Maybe this will finally keep her on. As much as I hate to picture that,” she shivers.

Willa’s such an even-keeled soul and it’s not just anyone she’ll shit talk in front of. “Well, your secret’s safe with me. If it is a secret that is.”

“What’s a secret?” Ellie interrupts as she pulls herself up to the balcony from the ladder with one hand.

Willa takes a little time to show her the correct way to bandage the burn–not too tight–while you pack the horses, as well as instructing you where to find her stash of willow bark if Ellie needs it for the pain.

But something tells you that Eliie’s gonna tough it out. Though she holds her arm gingerly as she rides, fisting the reigns in her left hand, the girl grins all the way back to Jackson like she’s just pulled off the heist of the century.

________

Jackson is busy when you ride through the gates midday, folks passing by on their way to visit, deliver, build. Purpose in Jackson is taken seriously, as is leisure, and both are on display as you pass by the rustic main drag, in many different ways frozen in time–log storefronts and Mickey Mouse tshirts, leather-saddled livestock and Japanese fans.

You spot Joel waiting at the stables before he sees you, distracted by none other than Missy Tippet. Getting herself married or not, the stunning woman is a glutton for attention and a class A flirt, and she’s not the only one in town whose head turned the minute Joel took up residence.

Not that you can blame her, with him in that tight grey tshirt, busting a carpenter’s arms out of its sleeves and contouring it with sweat…. By the dust on his face, he’s been working today. Probably took a break to wait for–

“Ellie. Hey! You decided to come home.”

“Yup,” she says, throwing him the reins to distract him while she gingerly dismounts. “I shot three squirrels!”

You avoid Joel’s questioning glance as you slide down from your own mare and lead her into a stall. “Go on, you two, I’ll stable up. Nice to see you, Cinnamon Roll.”

But they’re already on their way, an engaged chattering, laughing questions and energetic answers…and your teasing goes unheard. Ah. Wrong ear, you realize.

Missy smirks; condescends.“Cinnamon roll, huh? Good try, I guess.”

You don’t rise to her bait. “Just giving him sass. He’s obviously not a fan. You gonna help me with these saddles or keep slobbering all over the men that aren’t your fiancee what come on by?”

Okay. Maybe a little rising.

________

It’s your ritual, first thing back from the meadow. The Roost holds a special place in your heart, but the one thing it can’t deliver is a shower. Great gods of earth and sky, let there be thanks that warm water’s still a thing, even in summer.

You’re still dripping, one head tilted to the side as you drain the last of the water out one ear, when there’s a knock at the front door downstairs.

Well, let’s see. There aren’t that many people who know you’re back yet and Ellie’s come home with a bandage on her arm. It’s easy to guess who’s knocking. Okay. Let’s get this over with.

When you answer the door wrapped in nothing but a towel, it obviously wasn’t what Joel was expecting, and if he walked over here with any ire, it instantly freezes and shatters like a bubble on the tundra when he takes in all the skin on display.

“You’ll excuse me if I don’t invite you in for snacks at the moment.”

Deflated, he simply rams his hands in his pockets, squinting. “You wanna tell me about Ellie’s arm?”

“I had planned on it at a time when I wasn’t wet and naked, but sure.” When he throws his hands up in defeat and turns to leave, you stop him, catching at his sleeve and stretching the fabric so it snaps back against his arm. “Hey. Wait. Yes. I was going to tell you.” As you cross your arms over the towel and lean on the door frame, he does much the same on the other side, averting his eyes and trying not to fidget. And failing. “It happened this morning. She shot some squirrels and we dressed ‘em for dinner last night and buried the bones and pelts. Gotta lye ‘em or animals come digging. I thought she could handle it. Looks like we both got burned, so to speak.” His face is stony. Unamused. You continue. “Willa looked at it this morning, we got it a good rinse. I’m gonna go by her place later and grab some willow bark and show Ellie how to compress.” He shakes his head at his boots. “Hey. She’ll be fine, Joel.”

“I don’t want her getting hurt out there.”

“And I do? It’s a chemical burn, not a clicker bite. She’ll learn from it. Kids can’t be put in glass cages.” It’s here that you pretend not to see the flash in his eye at the mention of bites, meanwhile noticing a bad scrape on his forearm. Seeing your opening, you reach out to draw a finger over it. “Jesus, Joel. Look at this. This. See? We all have occupational hazards. Come on.”

With a sigh you turn and pad into the kitchen to your first aid drawer, taking a chance that pays off--you’re surprised to hear him actually following. It takes a minute to dress the wound and you’re not ginger about it–water, apple cider vinegar, gauze. It’s a quiet minute though, one you thought you could power through, and maybe you could have, if you were in anything more than a towel…or couldn’t hear him breathing…or feel it on your skin. Trying to play it cool and get a vibe check on him, you look up only to catch his eye shifting away from your bare shoulder back to your work on his arm.

It’s time to break the silence, but you don’t feel the need to be on the defense anymore.

“We don’t have a lot of antibiotics just sitting around, you know. Don’t let this stuff fester, okay, cinnamon roll? You and that daredevil kid are a matching pair, you know that?”

He only grunts, half rolling his eyes at you, jaw set, voice at a soft compromise. “Yeah, well, I don’t want her going back out there until she’s healed up. Limited use of both arms is a good path to more accidents.”

“Fair. You win. Summer’s pretty slow anyway. I could use the quiet.” Laying it on thick, you tie up the ends of the gauze before releasing him back into the wilds. “Warm sun, buzz of bees. Sweet smell of grass and lupines. Meadow’s a good place for afternoon naps. Easier to do without an apprentice yapping my ear off.”

He nods thoughtfully at this--your words showing their effect--and slowly turns and heads for the door.

And you smile knowingly as you watch him go.

“You know,” you call out just before he closes the door behind him, “door’s open at the Roost. You can always come out there with her if you’re so concerned. That is, if you don’t mind sleeping on a broke-down sofa on the porch.”

Without looking back, he pauses briefly in the patch of summer glare. Then he silently steps out and pulls the door shut, leaving only the click of the latch and the sunlight through the leaded glass.

Well. That certainly could have gone much worse.

________

At least you’re wearing more clothes when it finally does go worse.

“What happened here, squirt?” Tommy taps his fork on Ellie’s bandage at family dinner.

And Ellie answers with a light jab to his arm. “Ow, you dick! That hurts!”

“Ellie–” a scold in stereo from both you and Joel.

As her teacher, the admonishment was instinctual. But in current context, it may have been a breach of place. The table goes silent as Joel’s head snaps in your direction and everyone else’s eyes bounce between you two, utterly amused. There’s a moment when you’re afraid he might just continue to glare, but then he cracks half a smile, shakes his head, and goes back to shoveling a spoonful of potatoes into his mouth.

It’s a reaction that lets you know Joel’s forgiven you, back to allowing you to be a rearing force in Ellie’s life.

“Meadowlark let me do some target practice and I shot some squirrels for dinner. Had to bury the skin and bones with lye and I got burned. Oops.”

“Oh my god,” Maria chews. “Are you okay?”

Ellie gives her a precocious smile and follows it with sarcastic condescension. “Yes, I’m going to live. As long as some people let it heal and stop hitting me with sharp things because they think they’re funny and they’re not.”

Tommy sticks his tongue out at Ellie and Maria laughs at them both before getting up to go fetch another jar of pickles from the pantry, holding her growing belly and waving off her husband's attempts to help.

“Rabbit’s better eating,” Tommy points out, returning to the subject at hand.

Ellie pops a stringbean into her mouth, clearly in a good mood. “But their hides are useful. Don’t have to bury them.”

The moment after she says this is like a lightning flash, and your reaction matches hers as you both freeze, realizing what she’s just accidentally said.

“Squirrels are faster, smaller, better target practice,” you say, clearing your throat, trying to act casual.

Tommy shrugs and nods, agreeing, oblivious, going to town on his ear of corn.

But Joel’s gone still, staring you down across the table, then casts a glance at Ellie…and her arm.

Shit.

Tommy and Maria are blissfully unaware of Joel’s turn for the quiet during the rest of the meal, not that he’d been very talkative to begin with. But the hesitant glances and shy smiles are gone now, replaced with a restrained patience and a few calculating glances.

It’s Maria’s turn to wash and Tommy’s to dry and yours to clear the table. But with every trip into the kitchen, you glance through the window over the sink into the yard where Joel and Ellie are having a spirited conversation under the tree at the far end.

'Spirited conversation' might be too polite a term. More like a one-sided lecture. Soon enough you have the table wiped down and you’re making a bee-line out the back door while Tommy and Maria argue about the best technique for drying a glass.

“That is not okay,” Joel hisses, trying to keep his voice low, giving Ellie’s shoulder a rough shake. “What if something went wrong? Huh? You could have burned down to the bone!”

“Joel, Joel, hey,” you whisper as you come to complete the triad. “Don’t. She confided in me. It was my idea.”

Nostrils flaring, lips pressed together, head wagging, he glares. “Of all the reckless, stupid….”

“I wanted to!” Ellie pleads, and you shut her down.

“That’s true, but Joel’s right and I knew it. I shouldn’t have–”

“If you tell anyone–” he warns, his eyes going full retribution against you--a hot coil ready to spring--and it petrifies you, takes you by the heart and squeezes.

“She won’t! Joel!”

“She’d better not.”

It’s a tense moment, one that surprises you. Scares you. In the months you’ve known him, Joel’s been a quiet and withdrawn creature, opening up in increments as you’ve done your best to build your trust, taming him slowly week after week, hoping for nothing more than having him someday eating out of your palm, pushing his cheek into your hand for gentle reassurance…

But in one fell swoop you’re back at the starting line–beyond the starting line. The papa bear in him is showing, bearing its teeth, and you’ve spent too much time among sheep, forgetting the valuable lesson that wild animals can never truly be tamed.

“I will burn this place to the ground if you ever hurt another hair on her head.” The quiet threat is feral and stinging and steals your breath before it’s over.

The things he’s capable of...those things are here and now and he could do them all to you before you had the chance to run.

The way he looks at you pulls the heat from the earth.

Before you can break from your paralysis, they’re gone, Joel pushing Ellie out of the yard toward home.

The stars are coming out. If there are crickets, you don’t hear them. Every sense seems to have shifted into neutral. Except breathing. That comes back with a hunger.

“Joel and Ellie take off?” Tommy calls from the window.

“Yeahhhh,” you call back without turning. “Tired. The heat. Think I might head home too.”

“Take a jar of these pickles. We have too many and Maria can't stomach them right now. I’ve got pickles coming out my damn ears.”

“Okay. Thanks, T. Pickles. Will do."

________

The following few days are...confusing. You should go out and grab some supplies on the main street, but actually fear running into Joel or Ellie. It’s stupid, and it makes you angry; it’s not that you’re afraid of him, it’s just…

You’re disappointed in yourself. Because everything’s upset now. Sure, you wanted to get close to them, but you overstepped, put Ellie in danger, made Joel feel unsafe. Everyone should feel safe in Jackson. Everyone should feel safe in the meadow. And you took that away from him.

Joel.

Why him? What about him do you need to have so badly? Why do you feel the need to fix him? To give him that safety?

Because Joel and Ellie so badly need a home. And you have an excess of home within you.

And little else.

You’ve never been lonely before. Why now?

Something about them….just fits.

Or so you thought. Or may have thought. Before you ruined it.

It’s better to just sit home and knit. Winter will be here soon enough and people need sweaters, dammit. You have a job to do.

But you can’t stay hidden away forever, especially not when there’s a wedding in the community.

________

“Bear, Missy, you’ve said your vows in front of all of us here tonight. We are all witness to your commitment. All in agreement, say aye!”

“AYE!”

“And those of you who want to spoil this good time, say nay!”

Bear’s brother pipes up from the side of the mess hall. “Nay!”

“Shut up, you asshole,” Bear laughs.

“Perfection is tempting devils!” his brother teases.

“Let ‘em come,” Bear shouts. “I’ll tear ‘em all down for my lady love, the prettiest girl in Jackson!” There’s applause and laughter as he kisses his new bride and the mood shifts as he roars, “Drinking and dancing!!!”

“Ugh. Good thing Willa isn’t here to see this. She’d be so annoyed.” Maria yells in your ear over the din as you huddle around your favorite table at the back of the hall. “I thought Missy would never settle down.”

“Bear must earn his name in the sack,” you crack back at her, and she clinks her glass against yours in agreement.

Tommy and Joel sit across the table from you, facing away toward the front. But when Tommy turns to join in the conversation, Joel remains facing out to the crowd, watching as tables are pushed to the side to make a dance floor, quietly pulling sips from a frothy cider.

He’s still pissed at you.

“Where’s Ellie?” you ask Tommy, not even attempting to address the wall of Joel-shaped ice.

“Over beyond, with the other big kids.”

You don’t turn to look, but Joel does after hearing the comment, before turning back to watch the crowd.

A band strikes up. Friends stop by and chat. Some of Tommy and Joel’s work friends come and take over the table–the boys all getting loud and rowdy–so you and Maria escape to the edge of the dance floor, beverages in hand, dancing–but not really–in place.

“What’s going on?” Maria finally asks over the music and the general glee.

“Hmm?”

“You two keep watching each other, but you’re not talking. What’s going on.”

You can’t keep from glancing over at the table…again. You weren’t aware of him taking any interest in you though.

“We had an argument the other day. I think I fucked things up.”

She pulls a face, comically surprised. “I would have guessed the other way around, but okay. You push him too hard or something?”

“Something like that.”

Glancing back over her shoulder at Joel and then back at you, Maria gives you her lawyer face. “He’ll come around. Tommy says he’s the last person to apologize for anything and if he does, you know it means a big deal. But if you’re willing to extend the olive branch first, that can go a long way.”

“Well, maybe not tonight,” you sigh, stealing a glance, watching as he drains his glass. “He’s had a few.”

But you can’t even convince yourself, handing your drink to Maria as Joel sets down his glass, slaps the table and pushes himself up, leaning forward to wish his buddies a good night. You follow him out of the mess hall like some lovestruck teenager strung out on a last hope.

“Joel. Joel!” Catching up with him halfway down the block, the light and noise from the party still follows as you get out in front of him. “Joel, stop. I have to apologize to you. Please let me.”

Though he’s backlit, you can still make out his tired glare. “Don’t. It’s not necessary.”

“Of course it is. Ellie’s important to you. You're her guardian. It wasn’t my call to make. I’m sorry.”

He waits a moment before throwing you an irritated prompt. “But?”

“But? I don’t know. She was hot in that long sleeve shirt and she showed me her arm–I can’t imagine what she went through. I just felt for her. But I did have a gut reaction when she showed me, Joel. Anyone would, but most wouldn’t hesitate for long. And those bites could get her killed. All I wanted was for her to be free from that. To be a kid. I’d say I wasn’t thinking, but...I was, Joel. Fuck was I thinking. I was thinking about her just being a kid and not getting killed.”

“Is that all?”

“Yeah, I guess. Except… I really don’t want you to punish her for my decision. She loves it out there. She thrives. And if you don’t trust me, my offer stands. Come with us. See for yourself.”

A huffed laugh. “Yeah? Do I get a callsign then?”

Your fatal flaw is jumping to the joke and the playful tease too soon, as you do now, anticipating his forgiveness. “Of course you do, grey fox.”

And that’s when he reaches out, pulls you close with strong hands.

Which would be exhilarating, if it wasn’t too close. And if his breath didn’t smell of cider.

“Why don’t you just take what you want,” he growls, quietly, coldly, jaw set, lips hardly moving.

It’s not fear that pings up your spine–now that you’ve had a taste of his anger and gotten over the initial shock from the other night, you know Joel won’t hurt you, not here, not as part of your found family, he knows better–

It’s bitter disappointment.

“What?”

His grip tightens, digs in. “It’s obvious what you want. Just go ahead. We’re both fucking lonely enough and I’m too old for games.”

He’s right here with you in the dark, his breath on your lips, your fingers twisting into the shoulders of his tshirt…but it’s wrong. It’s so wrong. And it’s hurting.

So you slowly push off his chest.

And the light from the mess hall hits your face again; something there causes his shoulders to drop, causes him to let you go.

A cheer rises up from the celebration that you’ve left behind, that you don’t feel like returning to, but neither can you be alone right now, so it’s likely your only choice.

“I’m not playing games, Joel. I never was. I like you. A lot. Both you and Ellie. I just didn’t want to spook you. But...I also don’t want someone who doesn’t want me. So…maybe I read you wrong. Or maybe we need different things.”

“What do you need?” It almost falls out of him, uncontrolled, unemotional, a gathering of facts.

And your answer comes the same way, surprising you as you’re sure his own question surprised himself.

“A home.”

It’s a quiet night, perfectly warm. You’re sure if you went home right now, the fireflies–the good kind–would be out in the back yard.

Instead, you give him a shellshocked nod–of finality, of punctuation–and follow your feet back toward the light, toward happiness and love that you can’t share at the moment. And you don’t look back.

________

When you don’t show up for family dinner that week, Maria comes knocking the next day.

Knocks, yes, but does not wait for an answer. In sisterly fashion, she makes straight for your wool room and sits calmly on the edge on the daybed there, staring at you as you mend a hole in a sweater.

“Missed you at our table last night.”

“I know.”

It doesn’t matter how hard she stares, you continue to avoid it and concentrate on the work in your hands.

“That was an invitation for you to explain.”

“I’m aware.”

“Girl–”

“I’m not getting along with Joel right now. Ellie has…this thing on her arm that she doesn’t want anyone to know about. You notice how she would wear long sleeves even in the heat? I felt bad for her. So I… suggested…the lye.”

This doesn't faze her. “It was on purpose. And Joel found out. I see.” Leaning back into the pillows with a pregnant grunt, she swings her feet up onto the daybed. “Is hiding helping? You know we all know where you live, right?”

“Are you really putting your muddy shoes on my quilt?”

“So you’re just going to avoid him.”

You squint at the binding. “I’m gonna have to raid the commissary for some better glasses. My eyesight’s getting out of hand.”

“You’re going to avoid us. Me and Tommy and Ellie.”

Letting out a huge sigh, you concede to her tenacity because she won’t stop until she gets what she wants. “For now.” When her tongue clicks, you finally look up. “Listen. I apologized and he’s still mad. I agree with you that he’ll get over it, but he hasn’t yet, and that means I haven’t either. And I’m not as good at turning on my bitch face as that one is.”

“So we shouldn’t expect you next week either.”

“Nope,” you pout, tackling the sweater again with focused frustration. “I traded with Goldie. Going out a week early.”

“You’re running away.”

“I’m stressed out and I need to not be here, yes!” You admit, throwing down the knitting. “What is the big deal? I don’t have to get along with everyone in Jackson! You don’t!”

You understand that flat look from her, known it since you were kids. She’s counting to 10, giving you the chance to calm down so one of you can speak the truth and speak it calmly.

“But you want to get along with Joel.”

Of course she was going to say that. Because it’s what you’re thinking and not wanting to say out loud and she can read you like a book.

“Yeah. I really do. You know I do.”

“Okay,” she says, pushing herself up with effort and crossing the room to kiss her fingers and press–nay, slap–them to your forehead before heading out. “Go on and go to your happy place. Go calm down in your little clubhouse. I was just worried about you is all. Brought you leftovers. They’re on the counter.”

“Thanks. You’re too good to me. As always. Love you.”

“I know. As always. Love you too.”

________

At the end of the week you’re up early, your pack and rations slung over your back, pistol on one hip, making your way to the stables while the town’s still quiet, before anyone can notice you going. Your boots crunch on the dirt road in lieu of the birdsong from those lazy bitches not even up yet, the dawnlight casting Jackson in blues and blacks, like a new-world mid-era Picasso.

The problem is, you know all of these blues and blacks, all these shapes and shadows. There’s a new one this morning, something leaning up against the stable door.

And it’s shaped like a fourteen year old girl with a couple of bags.

As you approach, Ellie tips away from the wall, standing upright, waiting until you come to a stop in front of her.

“Joel said I could go with you.”

“It’s a week early.”

“Yep.”

It’s too early in the morning for exasperated sighs, but here you are. “Maria or Tommy?”

“Tommy.”

“Figures. Big fucking mouth.”

“Yep.”

She waits patiently for it to sink in.

Once it does, you pull the walkie off your belt.

“Meadowlark to Chickadee. ETA 30, towing a Starling in behind me.”

________

“So what did you say to him to get him to change his mind?” Ellie takes your fishing rod so you can pull off your boots and roll up your pants.

“Me? I figured it was you said something.” Wading out into the stream at this little ripple point is harder than it looks. The rocks are sharper here, full of crannys that are equally as good for fish to hide in as they are to turn an ankle. It doesn’t help that the setting sun is throwing shadows that make it harder to determine what’s what. “I haven’t talked to him in weeks. Not since Bear’s wedding. Keep that line taut.”

“According to Maria, you haven’t talked to anyone lately.”

“I had knitting to do,” a dismissal as you follow the line out into the current. “There are hardly any weeds out here; what did this dang hook snag on? A rock?”

“Well, he finally admitted that masking the scar was a good thing. I told him I want to get a tattoo over it. He said no.”

You laugh, tugging at the line, teetering on a flatter stone. “Of course he did. But that’s a good thing. Tattoo’s a permanent mark. Good to have an excuse to think long and hard about what you’d want. Willa’s great with nature stuff. She could probably do you a bird or a tree or something.”

“I was thinking maybe the moon. Or like, a machete.”

“Of course you were. Oh, oh... hang on, I think I’ve found it.” Reaching down under one of the rocks, you follow the fishing line, but it doesn’t seem to have an end. “Well, where the hell?”

“Uhhhhh,” Ellie points to the water at your feet. “I think it found you.”

A fine red ribbon of blood floats away on the current and you follow it upstream to your foot. More specifically, the inner part of your big toe. “Well shit. Did I just catch my own damn self?”

“Catch of the day!” Ellie laughs. “I bet you fry up real tough. Does it hurt?”

“Didn’t even feel it, water’s too cold. Get your knife and cut the line so I don’t get all tangled.”

Once you’re back on shore and take stock, it’s obvious some tools are needed. “Run and get me the wire cutting pliers, the vinegar jug, and the first aid kit, will you?”

Ellie’s off like a shot on youthful legs, making short work of the errand while you keep your foot in the stream and tend to her line. But once she’s back and opens the kit, her face twists into a frown. “Aren’t there supposed to be bandages in here?”

“What?” Snipping the hook in two you slide it out the easy way as Ellie watches in morbid fascination. “There’s not?”

“Nope. Plenty of cleanser and some needle and thread, but no bandages.”

“Shit. I suppose we never restocked it after Willa set you up. Well, I’ll just have to bleed into my sock for the time being and find something up at the Roost.” Ellie moves to help you, but you hold a hand up and go for the walkie. “Hey. Meadowlark to Goldie.”

The walkie comes to life, garbled, full of noise.

“Goldie? Meadowlark to Goldfinch.”

A couple of seconds pass. “Sorry, Goldfinch here. Was in the tavern and there’s an arm wrestling competition in there. Lots of yelling.”

“Really? Who’s winning?”

“Right now it’s Bear. What’s up?”

“Oh, I never restocked the first aid kit after Ellie’s mishap and we’re needing clean bandages. Can you send some along on patrol tomorrow?”

“Sure. Everything alright out there?”

“Yeah, I just stepped on a fishhook.”

“Well, why the hell did you do that?”

“You know, the usual. Shits and giggles.”

“You do you. Don’t ever change. I’ll send some supplies along.”

“Thanks. Put a wager down on Bear for me. Meadowlark out.”

“Will do. Goldfinch gone.”

“Alright, kid,” you groan, hanging onto her shoulder and pulling yourself up, “Bring in your line and let’s take what we got and get a supper going.”

________

The next day, you drop a few old carrots over the balcony railing. “Ellie! Take these with you! You’ll tame that skittish one sooner or later; keep trying!”

The girl scoops up the veggies and trudges out through the pasture, heavy not with the task of doing the rounds by herself but due to the heat. At least she can wear short sleeves now, even if the bandage gets questions. But you suspect she enjoys the clout and attention she gets out of the burn.

Thank goodness she’s here. Your injury gets angry when you walk. So Ellie's tasked with the rounds and taking stock while you elevate the foot and get caught up on some spinning.

Not that there’s any hurry to do so. As you lean on your arms against the balcony railing a little breeze kicks up. Content for the moment, you let it bring you a little coolness, a little movement, the rising and falling music of this year’s batch of cicadas. The meadow's pretty this summer, all purples and reds, festooned with lupine and Indian paintbrush and the air at the Roost smelling like the pines that grow around it.

“Patrol to Meadowlark.”

Damn. You left the walkie on the table inside. Guess the decision’s been made for you to get your ass moving. That’ll be a delivery coming in and you hobble on over to answer.

"Patrol here. You there, Meadowlark?"

“Sorry. Meadowlark here.”

“Sending Joel Miller in with supplies at the north gate.”

That’s…not what you expected. But…wow. Really? Has your heart stopped, or is it just going really fast?

“Put him on the walkie.”

Who cares what you’re heart’s doing, your face is gonna cramp from the smile.

“Hey. It’s me,” he answers, gentle, penitent.

“Me who.”

“Joel.”

So he's olive branching first. Well, he'll have to earn it.

“Yeah, about that, we have procedures around here. Callsign or bust, sir.”

You can almost hear his eyes rolling, but it sounds like he’s up for the challenge.

“Seriously.”

“Sure.”

“Jesus. This is…Grey Fox. Coming in at the north gate. Happy?”

“I will be. Meadowlark out.”

Tottering gingerly back out to the balcony, you land heavily on the old green broke-down sofa. There’s no need to bring the rifle. Even if he was being pursued by a pack of raging clickers, Joel is certain to carry a gun, and certain to use it confidently.

A few slow minutes tick by in the sun and a cicada buzzes in from nowhere to attach itself to one of the balcony supports. The big bug breathes for a minute, its iridescent wings still twitching with the effort of hoisting that bulky little body.

And then, in your eyeline just past the cicada, there’s movement.

Joel coming out of the north woods.

He’s on foot. Green plaid and jeans wading through the flowered fields. With his shirtsleeves rolled up on purpose to let those brown arms and big hands of his swing. With not just the one, but two rifles on his back? Isn’t that a bit overkill?

Wait. One of them’s not a rifle. It’s…a guitar.

Well. Someone’s planned to make himself at home.

Your smile earns more real estate.

Good.

Soon he’s close enough for you to make out his grey curls shifting in the breeze. Then he disappears under the Roost, only to transform into the sound of heavy footfalls on the ladder.

Propping your chin on your forearms crossed over the back of the sofa, you watch through the front windows as he steps into the room and takes it in with a carpenter’s eye. He stops in silent appreciation, gaze scrolling the woodwork, the joints, posts, slope of the peak. The woodstove catches his notice and he taps the tile beneath it with his boot, his interest trailing up the pipe, squinting at the trap around the exhaust. His bottom lip pushes up in approval and he nods, surveying the windows now…and stops when he sees you.

“Hey there, Cinnamon Roll. Welcome to the Roost.”

A half-hidden smile. Without a word, he untangles himself out of his gear, digging through his knapsack and retrieving a box before coming out onto the balcony and making his way over to you. Swiping a hand through the air, he motions for you to move your knee so he can sit beside you, then pulls your foot up into his lap and takes a look over your makeshift bandage–the sleeve of an old blouse–before starting to unwrap it.

It hurts. But you let him.

"Who told you I needed a first aid kit?"

"Was at the tavern when Goldie got the call. Heard it myself. Where’s Ellie?”

“She’s making the rounds. Just left before you came in."

He grunts an acknowledgement, focusing on your toe, moving it so he can assess the wound a little better. A little wince; he can tell it hurts. Grabbing a tiny bottle of cleansing agent and a fresh bandage, he gets to work.

“Just so you know,” he grumbles, “we don’t have a lot of antibiotics just sitting around. You shouldn’t let this stuff fester.”

He must see your smirk from the corner of his eye. He matches it with his own.

“You using my words against me now, Dr. Miller?”

“Not at all. Just passing on some valuable knowledge that was gifted to me.”

He works quietly, carefully wrapping the toe, then your foot, splinting it in a way that should make it easier to walk on. Obviously not the first time he’s cared for a wound. He must have seen a lot out there in his wilder days.

“This one was truly an accident. For real this time,” you attest.

But his smile burns off to the stone underneath.

His sincerity precedes him. “I’m sorry.”

An apology. From Joel Miller. For what? Not trusting you? Keeping Ellie away? Speaking to you the way he did? You assume it’s all of the above. But it isn’t necessary to ask for clarification; you only want to put the missteps behind you and get on with leaning on each other.

“You’re staying, right?”

He nods once to you, then to the sofa. “This where I’m sleeping?”

“I mean, if you want one of our beds, that’s fine, you’ll just have to fight us for it. In which case, you might as well give up now.”

“No, it’s okay. It’ll be like sleeping under the stars.” He stares out at the mountains over the meadow, watching the shadow of a cloud roll over it, your foot warm between his hands, a thumb absently rubbing at the bandage. “This is nice out here. Quiet. I’m not used to it. But it’s good.”

“Yeah, I’ll admit I do better with some wide open spaces. And fewer people to share it with.”

Two lines form above the bridge of his nose. “Ellie told me about your ranch. Your family. I’m sorry to hear it.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“Doesn’t mean it isn’t worth being sorry.”

He's got you there. “Everyone’s lost something. Someone. Several someones. The whole world’s a little sorry. But I appreciate it. It means we’re all in it together, those of us left." You make a study of him, his solemn nod, the way the sun glints off his watch. “I’m glad you took me up on my invitation, Joel. It’ll be nice having you here, being out here together.”

And then he turns to you, making his own study of you, as if watching your clouds roll away too.

“I agree.”

________

“Now, the E7 is the same as the E, you just pick up that third finger. Good. Now let’s do a three-four, E7, A, E.”

As the sun starts to set, your eyes have had enough of the spindle for one day and you’re cleaning up while Joel and Ellie muck around with his guitar out on the balcony. She’s a quick study, even if some of the chords are more difficult than others for her small hands, and it’s obvious he’s been working with her on it for a while.

Using a walking stick that Joel made from a pine branch–stripping the bark and wrapping one end with duct tape for a sliverless handle–you put together a little plate of berries and cheese, sling a thermos full of sun tea under your arm, and head out to the balcony.

“That's it. Thumb, wrist, wrist,” Joel coaches Ellie in a waltz strum as you hand off the treats to him and take a spot at the railing for one last survey of the meadow before the twilight goes. “That’s good. Keep that up, just like that. Hey there, songbird,” he drawls at you, “you know any Hank Williams?”

Rather than turn to him with a smile, you give it to the meadow, but let him hear it in your voice. “Do I? My dad grew up in Montana in the 50s and 60s. What do you think I was raised on?”

“Well go on then. You should know this one.”

Now that you’re truly listening and realize the chords he’s been working her through, you certainly do.

Ellie must have told him how you like to sing out here. So you do.

“Hear that lonesome whippoorwill, He sounds too blue to fly. The midnight train is whining low, I'm so lonesome I could cry.”

Joel encourages Ellie to keep going, and to add a B7 in at the end. “Go on,” he prompts to you when you turn around, smiling blithely as his two girls make him a pretty song to listen to.

“I've never seen a night so long When time goes crawling by. The moon just went behind the clouds To hide its face and cry.

“Did you ever see a robin weep When leaves begin to die? That means he's lost the will to live; I'm so lonesome I could cry.”

“The next verse is the last one, so play her out on some single rising notes and hit the final chord.”

Ellie bites her bottom lip and nods, taking the cue, but she doesn’t need to look at her hands anymore as she’s getting the hang of it, and instead smiles as you take on her favorite subject.

“The silence of a falling star Lights up a purple sky, And as I wonder where you are… I'm so lonesome I could cry.”

Her outro could use a little work, but it suffices and you give her due applause. “How are those fingers doing?”

She takes stock of her hands. “Look. Calluses.”

“You’ve got some work to do before you can call those welts calluses,” Joel teases.

“Well, I think she’s earned a treat. I didn’t bring those out here for you to hoard ‘em.”

Ellie balances the guitar against the arm rest and Joel hands over the plate, stealing a cherry and popping it into his mouth. Bringing her feet up, Ellie rests the plate on her knees and settles against Joel’s shoulder, smiling, content, proud of her progress, eating her reward and watching the night come on.

It’s such an intimate father-daughter scene that you’re about to go indoors and let them enjoy the view together. But then Joel moves his foot slightly as if to block your path. Catches your eye. Drapes his free arm over the back of the sofa and glances pointedly at his free shoulder, then back at you with a jerk of his head as if to say, You too, get in here, this one’s yours.

You do not have to be told twice.

Settling in with a long sigh, you don’t pay much attention as Ellie starts recounting everything she knows and doesn’t know about the first moon landing. You’re more interested in the way your cheek fits into Joel’s shoulder, and how his arm lays heavy and warm over yours, how his chest rumbles when he answers Ellie’s questions and laughs at her sass. How the shadows spill over the butte and pull through everything until they are everything.

And you notice how the moonlight reflects off the plate in Ellie’s hand, off the tuning keys of the guitar…and yet…it’s missing in one place it should be.

Joel’s wrists are bare.

Joel is laughing. And his wrists are bare.

________

Picking up his watch where it’s been living on the little table all week, you pack it into Joel’s knapsack on the last morning before heading out.

“Goldie’ll be here soon. You see Joel come back from the rounds yet?”

Ellie shakes her head as she’s packing her bag. “Nope. Went out an hour or two ago. You want me to go get him?”

Taking his bag and your own to the balcony, you throw them over the side to the forest floor below. “I’ll go. Been on my ass all week. I could use the walk.” You hand her the walkie on the way out, trusting her to take the incoming hail.

Fastest way to find someone on rounds is to walk the opposite direction, so you head south to the stream.

You don’t have to go far.

A group of sheep have gathered in the grass halfway between the Roost and the water, lazing peacefully as if gathered for a little tea party, and you can guess what they’re all discussing.

There, in the middle of their protective huddle, is the man you’ve been waiting for all this time; shoes off, one arm slung above his head, asleep in the sun and the warm, fragrant grass, as if he grabbed your description of the meadow and ran with it, needing the nap of a lifetime.

At first you keep your distance, not wanting to startle him. But then you realize that it might take more than your approach and a couple soft bleats from a lamb to wake him.

Especially with his good ear turned to the ground like that.

Safe. Warm. Content.

Goldie will be coming soon, but you’ll be able to see her from here. No need to wake him yet.

There’s time enough to just sit and shade his face from the sun, watch the steady rise and fall of his hand on his belly, and whisper a little prayer of thanks to the earth and wind and sky–hell, even to the sheep–that Joel and Ellie found their way to Jackson.

And that you found your way to them.

Good. Everyone's got a good reason to keep going then.

________

Lyrics from "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry" by Hank Williams

PREVIOUS: SPRING

NEXT: AUTUMN

MASTERLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

(artwork by @stealyourblorbos)

#leave off your wandering #tlou fanfic #the last of us #the last of us fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x meadowlark

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danikamariewrites · 8 months

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Turning

Vampire!Eris x reader

Summary: Eris Vanserra, King of vampires in Prythian, and his bride-to-be celebrate her decision to truly spend forever together. @erisweek2023

A/n: I give you king vampire Eris and his very devoted queen! Eris week has been so much fun, I’ve loved reading everyone’s fics/hc/posts/blurbs, edits, and art! This fandom is so freakin talented and I’m so happy to be on here with you guys❤️ I decided to add links to pictures from Pinterest that I pictured while writing this so don’t forget to click on those besties

Warnings: blood, drinking blood, murder, and I wanna say suggestive

Walking through the garden the skirts of my night black gown dragged over the gravel, my hand outstretched to graze over the soft leaves of the maze of rose bushes I'm following. Reaching the center of the garden I take in the vivid colors of the flowers in the sun.

Closing my eyes I lift my head to take in the comforting embrace of the sun one last time. Tonight is my Turning Ceremony. When Eris proposed last month he gave me the choice of joining him for true eternity as a Vampire, or staying as just Fae until I faded into the After World.

I didn’t think Eris would be able to handle my passing after only a thousand years together. And I couldn’t let my love be heartbroken forever.

Deciding to take a reprieve from the sun I head further into the garden where the roses reside. The white roses are my favorite. Along with the white marble and stone gazebo Eris had built for me when I first moved to the castle.

He took me in when my village kicked me out after accusing me of my fathers murder. I wanted to go somewhere that no one would follow. There had been rumors about the castle on the edge of the dark wood. People were terrified of the place, not even looking in its direction if they could help it. But not me. I had come up with my own stories about the dark castle as a girl. So that’s where I went.

Mine and Eris’s relationship took time. But it was well worth the wait. The King shows me nothing but love and kindness.

I stop and smell the roses. They look so lovely, reflecting the sun's bright rays. I suppose the next time I see them they will look more gray. I have no problem giving up the day time. I was always more of a night owl anyways. My parents constantly struggled to get me to go to sleep at a proper time.

Sitting, I close my eyes again and listen to the creatures of the day. I smile to myself at the buzz of the bees, the rabbits rushing through the brush, and the birds calling to each other. Letting my unbound hair rest behind my shoulders, letting the warm breeze wash over me. Days feel busy but peaceful. It’ll be nice to sit out here at night with Eris. In a quieter peace.

A male behind me clears his throat, one of the Fae day servants. I turn to look at the male over my shoulder with a small smile, “Francis, how are you?” He returns your smile, “Well my lady. And you? Your big evening is coming up.”

“Excited. I just want it to go well. For Eris’s sake.” Francis nods in agreement. “Speaking of the King, he requests your presence in his study.” I stand and let Francis lead me back through the garden and through the iron gate back to the castle grounds.

—

When we reach the doors to Eris’s study Francis stands to the side, letting me take it from here. Knocking on the door I hear Eris’s gruff voice tell me to come in. He must be concentrating on something.

I gently swing the door open and close it quickly. The grand chandelier and candles are the only light source in the room. I notice Eris has the heavy, dark velvet curtains pulled tight against the windows, not wanting to let a sliver of daylight in.

Eris’s study is one of my favorite rooms in the whole castle. It just feels so…him. He has items from things he is interested in scattered amongst the shelves, maps from ages ago, books that look like they would turn to dust if you held them.

The sofas were quite comfortable as well. When I first started getting to know Eris, and was comfortable being around him alone, we spent many nights here just talking. Enjoying a drink or two until one of us would call it a night. Or a day in his case. Mine soon.

I step up the raised platform where his desk sits and stand next to him, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. Eris perks up and smiles at me. He takes my hand from its resting place and places soft kisses all over the back of it. “My sweet, how are you feeling today?”

“Happy, my love.” Eris’s smile widens at my words. He was overjoyed when I told him I would turn for him. I don’t think I had seen that much emotion from him. Eris hadn’t stopped showing me that joy.

Eris pushed his chair back, patting one of his muscular thighs for me to sit on. I drape my arms around his shoulders and sit, resting my head on his chest. “Are you nervous at all?” I adjust my neck to look up at him and start to play with the ends of his long auburn hair that’s tied back today. “A little. I just want everything to be perfect is all.”

Eris hums. “It will be my sweet. I will be there with you every step of the way.” Eris brings his hand to cup the back of my neck. His thumb brushed over the small puncture scars from his fangs when he marked me as his. I shiver at the touch.

“Thank you, Eris.” He kisses the top of my head and stands, placing me on the ground as well.

Cupping my face with both hands he stares deeply into my eyes. “I love you so much, y/n. I don’t say this enough, but you have made me the happiest male in the whole world. And I’m so happy it is you who will be by my side forever.”

I feel tears prick at my eyes as Eris rests his forehead against mine. “Oh Eris, you make me so happy too.” I rise up on my toes and connect my lips to his in a short but passionate kiss. It pained me to pull apart from him but I must get ready for tonight. The party will start immediately after sundown and the other lords are already on their way.

“I have to go, my love. I’ll see you later.” Eris gives me one last parting kiss after walking me to the doors. As I walk down the hall towards my chambers I wring my hands to get out my nerves. Tonight would be perfect. And everything will be fine.

—

Ophelia finished pinning my hair up in a soft, romantic bun with a few strands of hair left loose in my face. When she moved away I turned to check my dress one last time. Staring straight at my reflection I smooth down my red silky dress.

“It’s time my lady.” Ophelia said in a sing-song voice. She holds my door open for me and I float out into the hall.

As I get closer to the ballroom the chattering of our guests gets louder and louder. I stop behind the closed double doors and wait to announced.

I take one last deep breath before putting a stoic look on my face. To show that I’m ready and willing to take this next step.

Eris’s lead advisor announces my arrival and the doors open. Revealing the crowd parted down the middle of the room. Eris’s throne has been moved in here for the occasion. He sits at the end of the makeshift aisle. A long blood-red carpet separating us.

He looks otherworldly in his white suit. The gold embellishments glinting in the candle light that surrounds him. Eris smiles at me, beckoning me forward. Giving me a look that says, you don’t need to worry my sweet it’s just you and me.

I take a step, then another and another. Remembering to pace myself. To not look too eager or too hesitant.

I finally reach Eris with a stupid grin plastered on my face. All stoicism melting away. Before I could kneel at his feet and expose my neck to him he stood.

There were scattered murmurs among the crowd. I couldn’t be bothered to worry about what anyone was saying. Not when Eris is holding my chin between his fingers and looking at me like I’m the only person in the room. “Remember,” he whispers, “I’m here every step of the way.”

I give him a small smile and nod. “Ready?” “Ready.”

Eris turns me to the crowd. As he gives his speech about this being the first Turning Ceremony in two hundred years and he’s glad to give the lords and his subjects to celebrate, I look around the room. I take in the vampire lords for the first time. They’re all so different. I’ll have to ask Eris more about the different courts if I’m to be his queen soon.

As Eris finishes his speech and my attention is brought back to him. He leans down to whisper in my ear. “You smell divine, my sweet. Sinking my fangs into you this evening will be even better than before.” Eris noses down my neck, taking in my scent.

He stops right at my puncture scar and licks. I start getting impatient and push my neck subtly at his mouth. He lets out a breathy chuckle that tickles my skin. “Someone’s eager.” You tsk at him. “Close your eyes and breathe.”

I do as he says in anticipation of the feeling of his fangs sinking into me. After a few more seconds that euphoric pain spreads through me. The intimate scene taking place in front of everyone causing my cheeks to have a pink tint. I bite my lip to hold my moans back.

Eris sucks and sucks and I feel something else. This pain is different than when Eris usually feeds on me. This was the venom Eris prepared me for. It was excruciating. My skin feels tight and clammy. My brain going fuzzy. I feel my canines expand and become sharper.

Eris releases me, wiping at the blood still trickling from my neck.

I can already feel the venom affecting me. Changing my needs and instincts. My mouth feels dry and my tongue heavy. Like a lump of sand I can’t swallow in the middle of my mouth. The mingling of different scents overwhelms me.

Before I know it Eris is sitting me on his throne and snapping at two guards off to the side of the room.

They bring in a Fae female dressed in simple dark robes and force her to her knees at my feet. She looks up at me, closes her eyes, and tilts her neck for me. She must be one of the many Children of the Blessed who sacrifice themselves for these rare rituals.

“For you, my sweet.” Eris says, his voice echoing around the still silent room. I can practically hear everyone holding their breath in anticipation. “Drain her and complete your Turning.” Eris backs away to stand with the court Lords.

I don’t need to be told twice. I grab the female on both sides of her face. I yank her towards me with my new found strength and lean down to sniff her neck. Just like Eris did to me. Her blood is the best thing I’ve smelt in my whole life. Better than any dessert or meal. Better than my favorite white roses.

Without a second thought I bite down into her supple skin and drink like I’m new to the world. The nameless female I drink from occasionally screams from the pain I’m inflicting on her. In the haze of my feeding I’m sure I tried to tell her to be quiet.

Once I feel her go limp I don’t stop. I can’t stop. Not until she’s dry. Not until I’m satisfied.

I can taste the last of her blood coming up. It reminds me of the last of the liquid left in a teapot. I detach myself from her, letting her body fall to the floor. Blood dribbles down my chin and onto my exposed chest. Looking up I search for Eris.

Eris was staring at me with piercing, wild eyes. The corners of his pale lips upturned in a wicked grin. He was looking at me like he had never seen something so beautiful. The sight of me covered in blood, committing myself even further to him brought him joy.

I started to wipe the female's blood from my chin, smearing it on my hands. Eris was before me in an instant. His pale slender hand wrapped around my wrist bringing my hand to his mouth to lick. To taste what my first drink tasted like.

A low growl came from his chest as his eyes closed. I fell forward, still a little weak from the venom and feeding for the first time. My bloody hands leave marks on his crisp white jacket.

Cheers erupt around us. Our guests ecstatic to have a new vampire in their midst. I smile up at my stunning fiancé. The love of my life. My King. I feel like I’m seeing him in a whole new light. Like he’s brighter, more clear.

My smile shows off my fangs and the blood coating my teeth. “Hi.” I whisper at him. The party was in full swing now. Our guests back to chatting and enjoying the music.

“Hello, my sweet.” Eris thumbs at the sharpness of one of my fangs. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” His voice smooth and deep.

“Shall we join the party?” He shakes his head a little, “Not yet. I want to admire you like this for a bit longer.”

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #erisweek2023 #eris vanserra fic #eris acotar #acotar eris #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra acotar #eris x reader #eris vanserra #eris x y/n #eris x you #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra acotar x reader

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bad268 · 3 months

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hi I was wondering if you could do a fluff w felipe, where reader is a 02 leclerc, and the whole grid knows that reader has a crush on felipe and felipe on the reader EXCEPT the leclerc boys. one day reader is rambling about school and felipe stares at her lips and eventually leading to kissing (maybe when they kiss you could add like the reader nervously pushing felipes face away w her palm bc she’s nervous, but they kiss) it’s ok if you don’t want to though

Why Are We Killing Clem? (Felipe Drugovich X Leclerc! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Formula 1

Requested: Clearly (I loved this, I hope you do too <3) Also, yall please vote on this POV poll

Warnings: none.

POV: First Person (I/me)

W.C. 1003

Summary: Overprotective brothers and crushes aren't a good mix.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

I am a pretty open book, any of my friends will tell you that. That’s not to say that subtle isn’t my middle name; it is and I can keep a secret when I need to. I just have nothing to hide.

So that might be a lie.

When you have three overprotective older brothers, it’s only normal to fib a little. Like if I had broken that plate or if I borrowed/stole a hoodie or if I liked anyone. Especially when it came to people I liked. Especially if that hypothetical person I liked was also a racing driver. Especially if that hypothetical person was a racing driver for another team. Especially if that hypothetical person was Felipe Drugovich.

Hence why I don’t say anything to them. I would never be allowed to go to a race again! If they knew that I had a crush on Felipe, I would never be allowed out of their sight on race weekends. As far as they are aware, he is just my best friend, and until I see a clear sign that he likes me back, it will stay that way.

I found out from a few of my F2 friends that they were heading to the next race early to hang out and party before getting back to work since there was a gap week, and it took a little (a lot) of begging before I was allowed to join them. Granted, I am old enough to make my own decisions, but I travel with Charles. It just seemed like the nice thing to do.

During this week, I still had online classes, so I needed to work around my academic obligations when it came to having fun with my friends. One day, in particular, I had an essay to work on, so I brought my computer since the plan was to hang out at the hotel’s pool.

I sat off to the side, typing away while most of my friends played volleyball in the pool. I was not too far away, just enough so the water being splashed between teams would not destroy my laptop.

“Are you going to join the game?” A voice asked, causing me to look up and see Felipe standing beside me. He took a seat toward the end of the lounge chair I was on as he looked at my screen, seeing how far I was. He noticed I was not anywhere close to being done, but something caught his eye, so he asked about it. “What are you working on?”

“An essay for my English class,” I did not delve into it, thinking he would not care. “I decided to relate it to one of the topics in my major since we could choose the topic.”

“Is there a reason you’re being vague?” He joked, leaning forward to read a little bit of the paper. “I’m interested in what you’re doing.”

“You’re just saying that because you don't want to get in the water, and I’m the only one that’s sitting on the deck,” I chuckled nervously. Felipe and I were never this close when we were alone. Even if our friends were not that far away, they were too busy with the game to notice anything happening between us. “You don't have to pretend you’re interested in my academics.”

“Who said I was faking it?” He feigned hurt as he put a hand to his chest. “I’m offended you think so little of me.”

“You are the least offended person I know,” I laughed, setting my laptop aside. “You are the most laid-back, chill person ever. There is no way this offends you.”

“You always listen to me rant about racing. Maybe I want to hear you rant about your interests,” Felipe whispers. “You always give your opinions on the race or our strategies, but we never talk about what you like. Now, we have the chance, and I’m all yours.”

I don’t know if it was the general sincereness of someone being interested in my life or the fact that it was Felipe, but I started rambling. I explained the entire timeline of the topic I chose, going off on tangents as I did so, and throughout the entire spiel, he remained interested. He nodded along, and even provided his own input here and there but left most of the discussion up to me. He also helped me figure out a subtopic I could use for my paper. Maybe I really just needed to talk it out with someone, so I was super appreciative of him.

Felipe, on the other hand, found it endearing. He didn’t even think before he leaned forward, and in the middle of my sentence, he placed his lips on mine. At first, I froze and tried to push him away until I realized.

This is the guy I have been pinning after for who knows how long, and now, he is kissing me.

I moved my hands from his chest to wrap around his neck as I closed my eyes and kissed him back, leaning into his body. It was just like I thought it would be, fireworks exploding between us. It was just us, no one else.

“I’m telling Arthur!” That French fucker.

“Clem, I will kill you!” I shouted as I laughed in embarrassment, knowing that all of our friends just witnessed our first kiss. I leaned against Felipe’s shoulder as we both looked over at our friends who were mocking us until the sound of the pool gate distracted some of them.

“Why are we killing Clem?” A voice I immediately recognized as Arthur said as he walked through the gates to the pool area. My eyes grew wide as I jumped away from Felipe, but by then, I knew he already saw us. He looked confused as he came into my line of sight before pointing at us. “And why are you and Felipe so red? Don’t lie to us.”

“I am so dead.”

~~~~~

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persephone-28 · 7 days

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I joined the Starkid fandom around 2011, disappeared around 2017 and properly came back like a few months ago and as you can imagine it’s crazy different now but it’s been the best thing being apart of this wonderful community again and I’m feeling a bit nostalgic so I thought I’d list the things I remember from when I first joined. (I would have been 11/12).

• The StarkidWiki mainly being lots of fuckyeah_____ pages for the actors.

• Me making one for Meredith because I loved her in starship and couldn’t believe she didn’t have one.

• Being obsessed with Joe Moses’s ‘Potion’s Master Corner’ series.

• When MTV went and visited Starkid during the making of Starship (mainly about Darren’s involvement as he was on GLEE by then).

• Everyone wearing or wanting pink sunglasses.

• The old space themed logos.

• Having fan-art from all the musicals on my IPhone 3G, like Pigfarts, Umbridge, Tootsie Noodles etc.

• Listening to all the music on YouTube like the very potter soundtracks and even compilations of everyone’s vocals.

• Boy Toy always getting stuck in my head.

• Watching Me and My Dick at like 12 because I wanted to have seen every musical.

• Joe Walker revealing Brian and Meredith were a couple and everyone freaking out.

• Watching all the Space Tour and Apocalyptour challenges.

• The excitement surrounding the announcement of AVPSY.

• Seeing Jeff Blim for the first time as Sweet Tooth and being like wow this man is amazingly talented, then seeing him as Aragon in AVPSY and being like wow this man is talented and hot.

• Watching the videos of the HMB cast do panels in their costumes at the 2012 Chicago Comic and Entertainment Expo (and Sean Astin as ‘Dylan Saunders’??).

• Being excited at all the Starkid cameos in Chris Allen’s short film ‘OMG’.

(I can’t remember as much from 2014-2016 and this list got long and boring 🫣).

#I need to rewatch little white lies tbh #sorry I went on a bit lol #my life got messy in 2014 hence the lack of stuff from that period #starkid #starkid productions #starkidproductions #oldstarkid #meredith stepien #avpm #avps #avpsy #starship #space tour #apocalyptour #hmb #Jeff Blum

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wolfjackle-creates · 6 months

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The Two Ghost Motel

So, as I mentioned, I joined the DP Ecto-Implosion Event this past month and it's Posting Week now! So I get to finally share with you the first chapter of my fic. Still working on editing the second half of the fic, but it's fully written as of this time.

For those who don't know, for the Ecto-Implosion event, artists drew/animated/composed some piece of art and writers then went in and wrote fics based off their art.

I was lucky enough to be paired with the super talented @i-think-in-metaphors who made this gorgeous artwork:

You can read on AO3 here (this fic is not locked to AO3 users only).

And for those of you who prefer to read on Tumblr:

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: Minor Original Character Death (not in this chapter)

Fandom: DPxDC (though no knowledge of DC is necessary for this fic. I use a single character and he has amnesia, it takes place in an original setting or Amity)

Summary:

Danny is tired. Endless ghost fights with too many responsibilities and too little time; he barely passed sophomore year. When Ember visits town for a bit of fun, she mentions the Two Ghost Motel, a place of peace and refuge for restless ghosts who aren't ready to cross over. “I’m fine, Ember.” Danny’s got a home and friends. He’s fine, really. But when his parents begin experimenting with electricity to destabilize ghosts, it’s too much for Danny. Unfortunately, neither Sam nor Tucker can host him for the night and he’s left wandering in the night, alone. Then he sees it: The Two Ghost Motel. He checks in. “Welcome.”

-----

Danny wasn’t sure when he first saw the neon sign. Honestly, he didn’t even realize it was something ghostly when he did. He just thought it was one more ghost-themed business that had come to Amity since the portal opened.

But when he mentioned the motel to Sam and Tucker, they looked at him like he was crazy.

“I’ve never heard of any Two Ghost Motel,” said Sam. “Where’d you see it?”

Tucker was typing into his PDA. “Nothing’s coming up online, either.”

“Oh come on, you’re pulling my leg. We’ve passed it at least a half dozen times. Last night when we were leaving Nasty Burger for one! And I think, what, three nights before that? On patrol? Where were we?”

“Dude, that night we were near the library. No where near Nasty Burger. No way you could’ve seen the same place both nights,” said Tucker.

“Danny, when was the last time you got a full night’s sleep?” Sam’s brow was knit in concern.

Danny waved off her concern. “Whatever. I know I’ve seen it. The sign is bright pink and orange with blue ghosts on it.”

Sam just shrugged and shook her head. “Point it out next time you see it.”

Before Danny could reply, his ghost sense went off and he groaned. “Ugh, looks like someone’s around. I’m too tired for this.” Danny glanced around. They were in the park and no humans were nearby so he let his transformation wash over him.

He flew into the air and tried to listen past the sound of his breaths echoing through his mask. Even though he didn’t breathe when transformed, something about the hazmat suit remembered and the sound was inescapable.

A guitar chord played behind him and Danny instinctively threw up a shield and fell ten feet right as a blast from Ember’s instrument headed his way.

“Hey there, baby-pop!” she called. “I was sitting around, bored out of my mind, when I remembered I could just come here to have some fun!”

Danny turned to face her. “Come on, Ember.” His voice always sounded so robotic when filtered through the mask. “I’m tired.”

“Too bad. I’m not.” She grinned at him and strummed a few notes, sending more attacks his way.

Danny dodged, only to have to watch one of the blasts hit a bench and destroy it. He flew higher, hoping her next attacks wouldn’t cause more collateral that would be blamed on him.

“What, you just gonna dance around like that? Come on, attack back!”

“My moves not good enough for you?”

“You need to step it up if you want to be my back up dancer.”

Danny couldn’t help but laugh and when she sent her next blast his way, he avoided it by doing a backwards dive towards the ground only to circle back up until he was facing her. “How’s that?”

“Better, but you’re still not there. Your moves have to match the music!” She played a tune with a fast beat and Danny dodged and spun. And if he added some flair to his movements, well, he deserved the chance to have a little fun.

Another blast his way, and he twisted his hips. Matching Ember’s beat, he sent a few ectoblasts back at her.

Ember laughed. “Now you’re catching on!”

Danny allowed himself a quick glance down where he saw Sam and Tucker not even trying to hide. Tucker was filming them.

Which, of course, is when it all had to be ruined by the unmistakable sounds of the GAV driving cross-country.

“Through the park?” he moaned. “Seriously?”

“Shit, that’s your folks, isn’t it.”

“Yeah. C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

“You’ve got it, babypop. I came here for fun, not to mess with them.”

The GAV came to a stop and Danny saw his mom rush out of the passenger side with one of their new, long-distance guns. He tacked Ember, only just getting her out of the way of the blast.

Without any discussion, both turned invisible and flew out of the park. Danny didn’t let them stop until they were in a forest out of range of his parents’ trackers. Exhaustion set back in as soon as he realized they were safe, and he just plopped down on the ground and leaned against a tree.

“Ready to resume your dancing lessons?” asked Ember.

Danny groaned and rested his head against the rough bark. It was probably stupid, but he let his eyes close. “Maybe next time. I meant it when I said I’m tired.”

She didn’t say anything as one, two, three breaths sounded from his mask. And then he heard some leaves rustle. He cracked open an eye to see Ember making herself comfortable on the ground a few feet away.

“You really are tired, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Yeah. Finals are coming up and if I don’t do well, I’m going to fail sophomore year.”

“Y’know, I’ve heard of a place…”

Danny waited for her to continue, but when she didn’t, he hummed. “A place?”

“Yeah. Haven’t been there myself. But, there’s this place. It’s for ghosts who aren’t ready to move on from Earth just yet. Ghosts who live only on Earth without ever going the Zone get tired and weak. There’s just not enough ectoplasm around. Except for here, of course.”

“So what’s this place do?”

“Gives you somewhere to rest. And recharge. It’s not really on Earth. It’s a sort of in between place. Called the Two Ghost Motel. Might be worth checking in for a night if you ever don’t want to be at home for one reason or another.”

Danny hummed. “I’ve seen it around. Thought it was just a regular motel, but Sam and Tucker didn’t know what I was talking about.”

Ember picked out a tune on her guitar, but this time no attacks emanated from it. “It’s not a place for the living from what I’ve heard. Just the dead.”

Danny looked up at the stars through the tree branches, but he shook his head. “I’m fine, Ember. Just need to get some sleep.”

“Whatever you say, baby-pop.”

---

After that conversation with Ember, the motel began basically haunting him. Every night, as soon as dusk started to fall, he’d see it. Always a few streets away, just sitting there calling to him; it’s sign bright in the dark.

Sam and Tucker couldn’t see it, no matter how often he pointed it out to him. Jazz could sometimes see something out of the corner of her eye, but when she looked on more directly, it was never there.

Danny never approached. He was fine. He had a home and friends. There was no reason to go to some random motel.

Finals came and went. He managed to scrape by with at least Cs in everything. His parents, especially his mom, had not been happy with those grades, but Danny was just glad to have passed.

Didn’t stop him from being grounded and forced to help out more in the lab. One afternoon, he was in his room playing Doomed with Sam and Tucker when he got a message from his parents calling him back down to help them out.

“Ugh, I’ve got to go down to the lab.”

“Seriously?” complained Tucker. “Again?”

“Yeah,” agreed Sam. “Seems you’re always off helping them lately. Can’t you say no?”

“It’s this or having my phone and computer taken away. I’ll take the lab work.” He saved his progress. “Will you guys be on later?”

“Can’t,” said Sam. “My parents are forcing me to go to a fancy dinner somewhere. And they’re not giving me any more information than that to keep me from planning anything disruptive.”

“And mine have declared we’re having a tech-free family bonding night,” said Tucker, rolling his eyes. “With board games! Who plays board games in this day and age?”

Danny laughed. “I’ll see you both tomorrow, then. Later.”

Danny signed off and went downstairs. The hazmat suits were kept in a closet right next to the door to the lab, and Danny went through the process of pulling it all on. The mask that came with it was even more annoying in human form than ghost. The filtered air always tasted strange, but he’d given up complaining about that years ago.

He unlocked the lab door and went down to the lab.

“Dan-o!” called his dad as soon as he saw him. “Come here! You’re job will be to control the current!”

“Uh, current?” asked Danny.

“We’re trying to figure out how to disrupt the electrical signal in ectoplasm that gives ghosts their shape,” explained his mom. She had a bowl of ectoplasm in a glass terrarium and was arranging two metal probes so they dipped into it.

“Exactly!” agreed his dad. “So you’re going to sit at this computer”—he pulled out a chair before one of the lab computers and gestured for Danny to sit—“and adjust the frequency and voltage.”

Danny took a seat and stared at the program that was loaded on the screen. At least he wouldn’t be anywhere near the probes? A glance at the puddle of ectoplasm had him holding back a shudder.

“First we’re going to try and force the ectoplasm to form a shape,” continued his mom. “We’re going to do that with probe A. You’re going to start with a low frequency and voltage and slowly increase it while your father and I mark down how it affects the ectoplasm. We have some hypotheses about when it’ll start to form a shape.”

“And once it forms a shape,” said his dad, “you’ll use probe B to send a contrary electrical signal to destabilize it!”

“And then no more ghost!”

Suddenly Danny was glad his suit had a face mask. His parents were going to do what? Figure out how to use electricity to destabilize ghosts? It wasn’t possible. There was no way it could work. Right? He had to stay and prove to himself they were talking crazy.

“What—” His mouth was dry and he had to try again. “How should I start?”

“The settings are already loaded,” said his mom. She grabbed a tablet and sat down in front of the terrarium.

Dad sat next to her, grinning widely. “Go ahead, Dan-o!”

Danny’s hand shook as he placed it on the mouse. He sat on the other to hide it. Then he turned on the probe.

At first, nothing happened. The ectoplasm stayed a puddle and there was no visible change in it. But as he adjusted the current, it began to ripple. His parents loudly exclaimed over every change as they shouted instructions back to him.

Each change had Danny’s heart beating harder in his chest.

Two hours in is when it happened. The ectoplasm started to form a ball that rose up out of the bowl. Danny could feel something cold in the back of his throat. Not his ghost sense, but something close.

“This is it!” yelled his dad. “Danny, what’re the settings?”

Once more, Danny was glad for the way the mask muffled his voice just enough to mask how horrified he was by the thing that was forming. His parents’ theories about electrical currents couldn’t be true. They couldn’t.

“Now for us to try disrupting the current!” The glee in his mom’s voice made bile rise in Danny’s throat. But when she told him to turn on probe B, he did.

It only took twenty minutes to find the settings that made the ectoplasm fall apart back into a puddle.

Danny was up on his feet, chair toppled, in an instant. He held a gloved hand to his masked face as if he could keep from throwing up with the motion alone. It had looked so much like Ellie when she was destabilizing.

“Danny?” asked his mom, tablet forgotten on her chair as she rushed over to him. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I… I’m feeling a bit sick. Can I, can I go? Bathroom?”

His mom reached out to brush a hand over his covered forehead as if to check his temperature. “Oh sweetie, of course you can. You should’ve told us you weren’t feeling well. There’s some soup in the fridge if you think you can eat that.”

“I— yeah. Thanks.” He didn’t wait to hear anything else she had to say and just ran up the stairs. He shed his gear in record time and ran all the way up to his room. He slammed the door shut and grabbed his backpack from where it hung on his desk chair.

With shaking hands, he took out everything in the main compartment. Then he ran to his dresser and grabbed a change of clothes and something to sleep in. He couldn’t stay here right now. He just couldn’t.

From the bathroom, he grabbed some toiletries and added those.

Less than fifteen minutes after leaving the lab, he was out the front door and walking down the street. It was late, dusk starting to fall.

He considered going to Nasty Burger to get some dinner, but then he remembered the way the ball of ectoplasm had melted and he changed directions. Eventually his wandering brought him to the park where he found a bench in an empty area and sat down, dropping his backpack at his feet.

Danny buried his face in his hands as he forced himself to just breathe. He and Tucker could mess with the results from these experiments just like they had so many times in the past. It was going to be fine.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out.

Jazz: Hey, Danny. Mom said you weren’t feeling well? Jazz: Where’d you go? You’re not in your room. Danny: Sorry, Jazz. I had to get out of the house. Danny: Ask mom and dad about today’s experiments. Danny: You’ll understand why. I’m gonna spend the night at Tuck’s. Jazz: Okay. See you tomorrow? Danny: Yeah. I’ll be back tomorrow. Jazz: Love you.

Of course, Tucker was having a family night. He couldn’t crash that. And Sam’s parents had banned him from their house. Where would he spend the night?

And then he noticed it. Right outside the park glowed the sign: Two Ghost Motel.

He was on his feet and walking there before he’d even consciously made the decision to go. A glance around showed he was alone, that night had fully fallen on Amity so he let his transformation wash over him.

He reached the street and, for the first time, was staring directly at the motel rather than catching glimpses from a block or two away. The parking lot had a few cars in it, the oldest looking like it might’ve been from the twenties with the newest looking like it was ten or fifteen years old.

A glance in either direction showed no cars coming, so Danny crossed the street.

As soon as he stepped off the sidewalk and into the parking lot, Danny could feel a change in the air. It was nothing obvious, but something integral was different. The sounds of the city were muffled, the sense of life dulled. The air felt lighter and the door seemed to call to him. Most importantly, it was easier to push away the memories from his afternoon in the lab.

The sign, when he reached it, buzzed softly in the night. He held a hand up towards it and felt an echoing buzz under his skin.

He stared at the lights for a moment more before continuing towards the building at the other end of the lot. It hadn’t been repaved in ages and was riddled with cracks. But the plants that grew up through them weren’t the normal grasses and dandelions. He wished Sam were with him to help him identify them.

Instead he knelt down and pulled out his phone to take a picture. They glowed slightly in the night, their stems ectoplasm-green with blue leaves and red bulbs. Danny reached out to touch one, only for the bulb to open and snap at his finger.

Danny laughed in surprise as he pulled his hand away. Something inside him relaxed. A night away would do him good and maybe he’d see other cool things besides the flowers.

The motel itself was a long, two-story building. The main entrance was smack in the middle of the building with rows of rooms extending to either side. Next to the office, a passageway through the building led to the back side of the building and had stairs leading up to the second level. It was clearly old, worn in the way only time could do.

The office door wasn’t automatic and the handle stuck slightly under his hand when he tried to turn it. But just a little bit of force had it opening.

Inside, the carpet was worn, beaten down and dull in the middle. The walls were covered in floral wallpaper rather than paint. Against one wall buzzed an ice machine and against the other sat a vending machine. A man with slicked back hair and a cane stared at the vending machine without moving. A two-seater couch was next to the vending machine with a wooden coffee table in front of it. Two women sat side-by-side on it: one in modern jeans and a windbreaker, the other in an old-fashioned dress that looked like it may have come from the sixties. They were holding magazines, but in the time it took Danny to look around, neither had flipped a page.

Cutting off the back of the room was a long desk, behind which sat a closed door. A woman sat behind the desk. Her blonde hair was cut shoulder length and curled inward. She wore bright red lipstick and heavy eye shadow. But strangest of all, she wasn’t moving. Her chest didn’t raise with her breathing, she didn’t shift in her seat. The women on the couch, at least, made the little movements people make when they’re engrossed in their reading. And the man at the vending machine was tapping his fingers on his cane as he tried to decide what to get.

But the woman at the counter was utterly still.

“Evening.” Danny’s voice was loud in the small room.

The woman in modern clothes cocked her head slightly as if trying to hear a distant noise.

“What are you reading?” Danny asked her.

She just shook her head slightly and looked back at her magazine. Slowly, she turned a page.

“Oh-kay,” said Danny to himself. He walked past them as he made his way to the desk.

As soon as he reached it, the woman came to life. She turned and smiled broadly at him and her finger started tapping on a paper log book that sat in front of her. “Well hello there. Welcome to the Two Ghost Motel!” She had a slight southern accent. “What can I do you for?”

“Uh, well. I heard you might have a room I could rent for the night.”

“Sure do,” she agreed with a nod. “Can certainly set you up with one of those.” She looked him up and down then nodded to herself. “Ah, yes. We knew you might need a place soon so we made sure you’d be able to find us. Glad to see you finally stopped in.”

“What, uh, what do you know about me?”

“Same as we know about any of our potential patrons, sweetie. That you’re a restless spirit that isn’t ready to pass on yet. Two Ghost was set up to give you a place to rest while you’re still on Earth.”

“How much would it cost for one night?”

The receptionist threw back her head and laughed. Her teeth were sharper than a normal human’s. Behind him, another voice joined in the laughter. Danny turned to see the modern-dressed woman was finally looking at him, though it was only to laugh at him.

Danny rubbed the back of his neck and smiled self-consciously. “I take it that was a stupid question?”

“Honey, there’s no charge for spending the night. Wouldn’t be much of a place to rest if we forced y’all to pay when no dead has money.”

“Right. So do you want anything in exchange? I’m pretty good at fixing things up.”

“All we want is for you to have a good night’s rest.” She turned the log book around. “I’ll just need you to put down your name here and I’ll give you your key.” She waved her hand to indicate a pen that was chained to the desk.

Danny grabbed it and hesitated just a moment before signing “Phantom” on the page. The ink was ectoplasm-green.

She took the book back and made her own marks before smiling at him. “Well that’s all in order. Now just to get you your room key.” She opened a drawer which was filled with a number of small envelopes, each with a handwritten number on them. She flipped through a few before stopping on one, seemingly at random, and pulling it out. “You’ll be in room 214. Leave the office, take a right. You can’t miss the stairs. Climb ‘em, continue to the back side of the motel, and take a right.”

Danny took the envelope from her. On it, the numbers 214 were written, with Two Ghost Motel in cursive below it. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Enjoy your stay at Two Ghost,” she smiled one more time at him, then looked down at her logbook and froze exactly as she had been when he’d first entered.

“I appreciate your help. You sure there’s nothing I can do in exchange for the room?”

But the woman didn’t stir again. Danny shifted from foot to foot. Should he try and wake her? Was she hurt? Was this a normal ghost thing? He tapped on the desk again.

“Ma’am?”

No response.

Danny looked down at his key and back at the woman. Hesitantly, he turned towards the door, but he couldn’t help looking back frequently. He paused by the women on the couch, but neither looked up from their magazines. At the vending machine, he peered around the man.

“Do they have anything that looks good?” he asked.

The man didn’t move, so Danny shifted until he was standing right next to him and could look inside the machine.

The bottom two rows were filled with drinks, water and Gatorade took up space right next to shots of ectoplasm. And were those beers? What? Above those were a few types of nuts and candy bars and chips. Danny only recognized half the brands.

Then he noticed the package of bottle caps. “Oh man, been ages since I’ve had some bottle caps. Mind if I grab those if you haven’t decided yet?”

The man hummed and moved to the side so Danny could get to the bill input and number pad.

“Thanks, sir! Appreciate it.” He pressed the numbers for the candy to see the price, but the machine whirled to life and it was dropped down without requiring Danny to put in a single cent. “Oh, shit, did I just use your money? What do you like? I’ll get it for you as an apology.”

“I don’t… I don’t remember,” said the man. His voice was very quiet, but clear. Danny couldn’t place his accent.

“Are you looking for a snack or a drink? Sweet or savory?”

“My son always pretended he didn’t like sweets. I was going back to him. How did I end up here?”

“Dunno, sir. But if you like candy, I’d recommend the skittles if you want chewy, m&m’s if you want basic chocolate.” He opened his own package. “Hold out your hand, I’ll give you a few of these so you can see if you like them.”

The man did and looked at his own hand as if he’d never seen it before. Danny turned his package so a few bottlecaps fell out. “Thank you,” said the man.

“Sure thing. Hope you enjoy!”

The man stared at his hand a moment longer before bringing one to his mouth and chewing the candy with a pensive look on his face. “I think I remember these, but it’s been so long. Thank you.”

“Anytime. My name’s Phantom; I’m in room 214 if you need anything.”

“Phantom. Pleasure to meet you. I’m Tom.”

“Well, Mr. Tom, hope you find something to eat that you like.”

Tom hummed and turned back to look at the vending machine. Danny took one last look at the receptionist, still entirely frozen, before slipping out the door. He slipped the package of bottlecaps into his pocket; he’d eat them in his room when he could take his mask off. In the passageway to the back of the motel, two boys played jacks under a flood light.

Danny couldn’t help but pause to watch them. He’d tried playing a few times when he was younger, but Tucker wasn’t into the game and none of the other kids had been willing to spend enough time with the weird ghost-hunter’s kid to teach him.

He waited until the kid who’d been picking up the jacks tossed them back on the ground before asking, “So, who’s winning?”

Both boys looked up at him with the same blank expression. The one on the right was a red-head while the one on the left was brown haired. They were about the same age, maybe ten years old and Danny wondered what happened to bring them here.

“I never learned to play,” Danny admitted, waving a hand to indicate their game. “So I don’t know how to tell. Or, is there even a winner in jacks? I might be completely off the mark.”

The red-head raised his hand. “I’m wining. I’m on the foursies round. Alan is only on twosies.”

“Matt cheated and made me drop my jacks.”

“It wasn’t cheating, just strategy,” protested Matt.

“Cheating,” repeated Alan.

“Prove it by beating your threesies round perfectly this time.”

Danny smiled to himself as the boys returned to their game and ignored his presence entirely.

“How’d you do that?” asked someone behind him.

Danny spun around to see a boy around his own age on the stairs leaning over the railing. He had dark hair and light eyes and was dressed in modern jeans and a t-shirt.

“Do what?” asked Danny.

“Get them to talk to you. Everyone ignores me entirely.”

Danny glanced back at the two boys who were entirely absorbed in their game and not paying Danny or the stranger any attention. “They’re mostly ignoring me, too.”

The kid rolled his eyes. “But they still talked to you. I haven’t even gotten that much.”

Danny shrugged. “I just asked them about their game.”

He groaned and kicked at the railing. “I’ve tried that. Who’re you, anyway?”

“I’m Phantom. Staying here for the night because, well, just because. Who’re you?”

“Jay.”

Danny cocked his head. “Like the bird?”

Jay’s eyes widened in surprise, then he grinned back. “That’s it! I knew I was forgetting something. I’m a bird. Thanks, Phantom.”

Danny laughed. “Sure thing, birdie.” He adjusted his backpack. “Let me put this down. I’m in room 214. What’s there to do in this motel?”

Jay shrugged. “More if you can get the other people to talk to us. But the TV always has your favorite show or movie on and the vending machine in the office always has your favorite snacks.”

As Danny made his way up the stairs, Jay fell in step besides him. “What’s your favorite movie?” he asked.

Jay shrugged again. “Dunno. But every time I turn on the TV it’s playing.”

“What did you watch last, then?”

Jay hesitated a moment and when Danny looked at him, he was frowning. “I don’t…” He shook his head. “I don’t forget things. My d— Someone made sure I could give accurate reports. But I don’t remember.” He looked at Danny with his brow furrowed. “Why don’t I remember?”

Danny shrugged. “Well, when we get to my room, we can turn on the TV and see what comes on.”

Jay brightened immediately at the suggestion. “Duh! That’ll remind me. Thanks, Phantom! Come on, your room’s this way. We’re neighbors; I’m in 215.” He jogged the rest of the way up the stairs so Danny had to speed up, too.

At the top of the stairs, Jay took a right and Danny’s door was several down.

“Home sweet home,” he said, gesturing to the door.

Danny laughed as he unlocked it. “So how long have you been here?” He pushed open his door and took in the space. The carpet looked like it hadn’t been upgraded since the seventies. A double bed sat against one wall covered by a faded, green paisley quilt. A low dresser and box TV against the opposite wall. Most of the wall facing the walkway was taken up with a large window, though the closed blinds kept it private.

It wasn’t until Danny stepped in and dropped his bags on the bed that he realized Jay had neither responded nor followed him in.

“Birdie? Jay? You okay?”

Jay was frozen outside the door staring out into the distance away from the motel. The back of the motel had very few lights, and the night made it seem like there was nothing out there but endless black. When Danny called out, Jay shook himself and grinned as he entered the room and sat down on Danny’s bed with enough force to bounce. “Course I’m okay! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You spaced out there for a minute.”

Jay rolled his eyes. “No I didn’t. Where’s your remote?” Before Danny could do anything, Jay was already standing and picking it up from the dresser. He turned on the TV. “Oooh, the Godfather! Told you it always has your favorite movie.”

“So The Godfather is your favorite?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen it all the way through.”

“Then you’re in for a treat! Come on, sit next to me. I’ll make sure you notice all the good parts.”

Danny did as told. Which is when he remembered he still had the candy. Wordlessly, he held it out to Jay who grinned as he took a few to snack on.

-----

Chapter 2

Hope you enjoyed chapter 1! This was so much fun to write. I loved taking part in the event so much. Please consider checking out the rest of the art and fics from this event because there are so many talented people who took part. (My reading list is gonna be filled for at least the rest of the year, no lie.)

Just search the tag #ectoimplosion2023 to see what I mean.

#dpxdc #ectoimplosion2023 #danny fenton #jason todd #the two ghost motel #my writing #danny has electricity trauma #and seeing his parents make then destroy a proto-ghost #...#well it wasn't good for him #but will where he ends up be any better?

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alicedopey · 10 months

Text

The Wound Licker

Fandom: The Gray Man

Genre: AU, Dark, Smut-ish

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Plus-Size reader

Warnings: Dubious consent (groping, kissing) coercion, blackmail, Lloyd (he is a villain so he is a menace) These warnings are not to be taken lightly. Read at your own risk.

Words: 3879

Summary: You go back to school for a reunion and meet a good old friend, Lloyd Hansen.

A/N: This fic was written for Roo’s HalloCream Extravaganza thrown by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor. Got the prompt: You run into an old friend but they’re nothing like the person you remember. I’m awfully late and I’m really sorry. Bear with me on this please because this is the first time I’m posting a dark fic.

The main building of Harvard Law School was just as your remembered it; big, majestic, impressive, pompous… a golden cage which gave you so much, even though it was not your choice in the first place. You couldn’t deny that it offered you the status you had though and that was enough.

Taking a deep breath, you fixed your dress, secured the strap of your handbag on your shoulder, squared up your shoulders for good measure and climbed up the stairs that led to the main entrance.

When you entered, you spotted the few tables aligned and the usual members of the welcoming committee that were sitting behind to greet all your fellow former students. You walked to the first one and put a smile on your face.

“Good evening. Welcome to the 2008 class reunion. May I have your name, please?”

You recognized one of the girls who attended many classes with you, but it was not surprising she did not remember you. None of them did – that is, until you stated your name.

“Y/N Y/L/N.” You knew when it clicked in her brain. The glimmer of recognition in her eyes, the spark of interest, the wide fake smile. Each time, this wicked name fell out from your lips, it was the same hypocritical and unbearable number.

“Y/N, of course!” She exclaimed joyfully. “We had lots of classes together, remember?”

She handed out a sticker with your name on it. The temptation to pretend you did not remember her was strong but you just nodded and smiled as usual. You took the sticker and put it on your chest before entering the huge room where the reunion was taking place.

Inside, the crowd of former students were intently listening to the speech of the man you referred to as your father. His posture shifted and you knew he had probably spotted you the moment you came into the room and he would enjoy giving you a lecture about being late.

You drew near the stage and managed to find a spot hidden between two tall big guys. Out of your father’s sight, you took the time to admire the decorations and you had to admit the Harvard Law School Association had once again outdone themselves to live up to the school’s reputation and show off as much as they could. Not that Harvard was not one of the best universities, but the way it had been forced on you made it impossible to truly appreciate the value of the place.

A round of applause concluded your father’s speech and you joined them half-heartedly. Another famous alumnus took his place as you made your way to the bar to get a drink. The variety of cocktails they offered was enormous and tempting. You finally opted for a Moscow mule and checked the seating arrangements to find your table. A smile appeared on your lips when you read the name of the person who would be seated next to you and you felt a little bit better as you took the direction of your table.

Your smile widened as you saw him standing at the table, waiting for you. He had grown bigger; the hairdo had evolved and there was that weird furry thick line above his lip. But it was him.

“Lloyd Hansen!”

“In the flesh, cupcake.” He replied confidently with a smirk on his face. His overconfident tone surprised you but you smile when you heard the old nickname. He embraced you without any warning and you awkwardly hugged him back. It was nice to feel his toned chest against you and his hands softly caressing your back. It was a first since you’ve known him though. He was not usually that cuddly.

After a few minutes, he finally gave you some space even if his hands lingered on your ample hips.

“Look at you, Cupcake. You’ve…grown.” He squeezed the tender flesh. You couldn’t help feeling embarrassed but one look at his appreciative stare and the kind of embarrassment you felt shifted. Was he flirting with you? That was a first too. The two of you were quite close at college but it never turned flirty that way.

“And you’ve grown…a moustache.” You retorted, trying to change the subject.

“You like it?” He made it wiggle exaggeratedly.

“It suits you.” It did, strangely enough even if it gave him a strong porn movie director from the seventies vibe.

“Ladies love it. The tickling.” He winked and you found yourself giggling and hitting his chest playfully. What was wrong with you now?

He squeezed your hips once again. “I’m surprised you’re here, Cupcake. You usually never come to those reunion things.”

“I was asked to.” More like ordered to, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Ah! Daddy didn’t want you to miss his important speech.” He snorted.

You frowned at his condescending tone. Even if he was right, he was clearly mocking the situation and you did not like it one bit. You did not remember him using this tone with you.

You took a few steps back and crossed your arms in front of your chest in a defensive stance. Lloyd’s arms fell limply on his side. His jaw ticked but he must have sensed you were upset because his tone was softer when he asked his next question.

“So… what have you been up to since graduation?”

“I’m a lawyer now.”

“Oh. Filling up your parents’ shoes, then? Wanna become a judge too?”

You winced. “Not exactly. I mostly work on civil cases: divorces, custodies… I even volunteer to help people who need counselling but can’t afford it. I know this doesn’t sound prestigious but I love it.” You concluded in a more confident tone. You were proud of what you had become, no matter what your parents or others could think.

Lloyd smiled and inched closer. “I’m not surprised.” He raised his hand to tuck a lock of hair that had escaped from your ponytail behind your ear. “You were always so nice, willing to please everyone. Willing to please me.”

Your cheeks got hot under his praise and actions. A pleasant shiver ran down your spine as his hand found his way to your cheek. You leaned into his touch and castigated yourself instantly. What was wrong with you? What was wrong with him?

He had never behaved this way before, at least not with you. He had quite the reputation back then but your relationship had always been friendly and innocent. Not that it was unpleasant but it made your feel uneasy. You were not used to this kind of attention. Once again, you stepped away from him.

“What about you? What have you been up to?” He smirked, clearly having sensed your discomfort. You tried to ignore it. “I bet you’re working with the police or something. You clearly were a man of action.” You remembered he was not a fan of all those laws but when it came to practicing, he was there.

“I tried but it was too boring. I was recruited by the CIA and I’ve worked for them for a few years.”

“Wow, CIA”. Your eyes widened. “That’s amazing. What are you doing now, then?”

“I’m still working with them but let’s say I’m a free agent. They call me for special missions.”

“Like when they desperately need help and no one else can do it?” You asked with a smile, still impressed but a new smirk appeared on his face and your smiled faltered.

“What I do can’t be taught so you could say that. See… looks like we’re doing the same job. Helping those in need, just like we used to help each other in college.”

You full smile returned. Those were fond memories. Two misunderstood persons finding solace in each other.

The arrival of the waiters with the hors d’oeuvre put a stop to your conversation and you took your seats next to each other.

To say you had a bad time during the dinner would be a lie. The discussions with the other former students were nice and the meal was delicious. Llloyd was a pleasant company. To you, at least. He could be quite sharp and mocking with the other guests. He was blunt and even almost gross in his replies. That was new. You had heard about this side of him but had never witnessed it and it was… upsetting.

When it came to you though, he was as charming as possible. Very tactile, even. He constantly put his hand on your arm when he talked to you, his arm was nonchalantly thrown over the back of your chair which allowed him to touch your neck and shoulder. The signals were clear and after trying to resist, you let yourself drown into them, no matter what the outcome would be. It was nice to be the center of attention for something else than your name, their name, his name.

Overall, you had a great time. Then your father chose to come around and greet everyone. All of the students at your table raised from their seats at his approach and you felt obligated to do so as well. You watched him talking smoothly to everyone, slipping some advices here and there like a real mentor. You sighed, clearly exasperated by his little show.

“Hansen! Glad to see you there!” He held out his hand and Lloyd shook it firmly, answering with a simple. “Y/L/N.”.

No Sir, no deference, Lloyd did not seem impressed by his little show either. If your father saw it, he did not act like it and finally turned towards you.

“Glad to see you managed to leave your lost causes for a while to be there…even late.”

No hello, no happy to see you. Typical. Well, two could play that game.

“It’s not for everyone to work with criminals, Father.”

“It’s not for everyone to have higher ambitions, dear.” His patronizing tone made you sigh. “You should follow his path.” He added, pointing to Lloyd. “This man could teach you a few lessons.”

You frowned at his words and sat back down on your chair; defeated, hurt and furious. He ruined it. He ruined everything. This place where you were having a good time suddenly became a place to run away from. You strongly wanted to be back home and in your bed.

“This thing is boring.” Lloyd snorted as he sat back down next to you. “I’ll tell you what, Cupcake”. He lightly pinched your cheek to get your attention. “The hotel where I’m staying has a pretty good chef who makes the most amazing desserts. Maybe we could enjoy them together.”

You watched him doubtfully. “I don’t know Lloyd. It’s nice but I’m pretty tired…”

“Come on, Cupcake.” He cajoled you. “Aren’t you up for some sweet treat? You, me and some exquisite chocolate mousse. For old time’s sake.”

He clearly knew how to tempt you. You really needed this sweet boost and the idea to spend some time in his company was truly enticing. It was also very clear that his proposal was not innocent but some little excitement in your life could not be that bad.

“All right, let’s go.”

He leaned on you to kiss your cheek – rather the corner of your mouth. “Good girl.”

For the second time this evening, a pleasant shiver ran down your spine and you felt your cheeks warm up once again. It was just a kiss!

You cleared your throat to hide your embarrassment. “Do you mind if I use the ladies’ room before we go?”

“Be my guest.”

You gave him a small smile, put your shoulder bag on and stoop up swiftly to make your way towards the restroom.

The place was deserted but it was not surprising in the middle of dinner time. You were about to get into a bathroom stall when someone pushed you against the nearest wall and a pair of lips attacked yours. You tried to free yourself from your assailant when you felt something hairy tickle your upper lip. Lloyd. The said person glided his tongue against your lips and you gladly granted him access as you gripped his shirt. The kiss was wild and savage, there was no gentleness and you liked that.

Soon, too soon, the need to breathe got strong and your lips had to get separated.

“I couldn’t wait any longer”. Lloyd’s breathed against your mouth.

“I’m not complaining”. You breathed back and closed your eyes in bliss as Lloyd sucked your neck while his hands kneaded the soft flesh of your thighs. He hooked one of your legs on his waist and your nails sank in the flesh of his neck, pushing him further against yours. He groaned and bit your skin in response. You let out a wispy moan. Your hips were starting to oscillate against his and he was too eager to reciprocate, making him you feel how hard he was in the process.

In the back of your mind, you heard the hinges of the door cringe and soft feminine giggles. You did not care. If anything, it riled you even more. He could take you right there while everybody was watching and you would not care one bit. There was nothing that could put an end to this. Except the ringing of his phone.

Lloyd grumbled and tore himself away from you. He fumbled in the pocket of his pants and extirpated the smart phone.

“Give me a minute.” He told the caller sharply.

You looked at each other, breathless and turned on. Lloyd winked at you. “I need to take this.” He stroked your swollen lips with his thumb. “I’ll meet you at the entrance hall, okay?”

You simply nodded, too stunned to find your voice. Lloyd nodded back and left. You heard his cold “What do you want?” before the door closed after him.

Flustered, you went into the bathroom stall to relieve yourself, washed your hands, fixed your dress and make up before walking out.

The welcoming committee was not here anymore, they were probably enjoying the festivities. You rummaged in your purse to check the time on your phone. 9:30 PM. It was not that late and yet, you felt as if it was midnight after the evening you just had.

You waited patiently and kept checking your phone again, and again, and again…

Fifteen minutes later and still no Lloyd in sight. You could not spot anyone or anything outside so you went back to the banquet hall.

You spotted Lloyd who was in a deep discussion with another man you couldn’t put a name on. The guy had a cocky and overconfident posture but Lloyd did not look like he was impressed, quite the contrary. You were approaching them slowly when something the man said made you stop in your tracks.

“I didn’t know you were hitting that, Hansen. I mean, I thought you were over the desperate ugly chick kink. Looks like you hit the jackpot with her though…and a fat one on top of that!”

You waited for Lloyd’s answer with belated breath. “Jealous? You should try them sometimes, gives you more meat to eat.” He sneered.

“Please, Hansen! We all know you are doing this to get to the father like you used to do when we were in college. I don’t understand why you keep up with this little charade though. I heard you were quite successful, no need to make yourself suffer anymore.”

You closed your eyes, ashamed and humiliated.

“Mind your own business, Cooper.”

Cooper did not appear to be done though. “Ah so there is something else going on. Tell me…”

You did not bother listening to the rest of the conversation and left the room very calmly as not to draw attention to yourself. You managed to keep this even pace until you were back in the hall then you rushed outside, only stopping when you reached the gate.

Your breath was erratic and you were shaking, the chill weather of this spring night hitting you for the first time. Your vision was blurred due to the tears that had started to well in your eyes. NO. You thought, wiping them away furiously before they could roll down your cheeks. You would not cry. Lloyd Hansen was not worth your tears. Your father was not worth your tears. This fucking name was not worth your tears.

Ragefully, you tore the sticker from your chest and wrinkled it before throwing it on the floor.

Taking deep breaths to calm yourself, you rummaged in your purse once again to retrieve your phone and open the Uber application. Time to go back home and forget everything in front of a sitcom on Netflix while eating some chocolate or ice-cream. Probably both. You would enjoy your sweet treats after all, even alone.

“Bailing on me, Cupcake?” Lost in your own torment of emotions, you had not heard Lloyd coming after you. Your whole body went rigid when he put a hand on your shoulder. You turned around abruptly and took a few steps back. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m tired. I’m going back home. But I’m not worried for you, I’m certain you will find another desperate ugly fat chick quickly.” You spat.

Lloyd tilted his head on the side and a smile stretched his lips. “Oh Cupcake, it’s not like you to eavesdrop on people.” He tutted. “Besides, those were his words, not mine. Made him regret saying them by the way.”

He clenched his right fist and you noticed his bruised knuckles.

“Doesn’t change the fact you agreed with him.”

He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “Desperate ugly chicks will give you everything you want because they know beggars can’t be choosers but you Cupcake, oh you…” He tapped the tip of your nose with his pointer finger. You grimaced. “You don’t beg and you are not desperate. You give and ask for nothing in return. You were always so nice with me, always listening to me, helping me. Hell, I think you would have licked my wounds if I had asked you. I never thought someone like you could exist, I was fascinated by this, by you.”

You rolled your eyes and took another step back. “More fascinated by my father, if you ask me.”

Lloyd chuckled. “Your father was a nice bonus but I did not truly know who he was before I met you so you can’t put this on me. Now...”

“But now you want me to put in a good word for you.” You cut him off harshly. “In case you haven’t noticed, my father and I are not on speaking terms. Find someone else.”

He smiled but an evil glint appeared in his eyes. You shuddered. “Oh, my sweet Cupcake, you haven’t figured it out yet?” His fingers played with the fabric of your short sleeve. “Your father asked you to come because I ordered him to.”

“What?” You whispered incredulously, clutching your phone against your chest. You tried to step back but his strong grip on your sleeve made the fabric crack so you gave up and glared at him instead. “What nonsense is this?”

“It’s not nonsensical at all, Cupcake.” He winked and kept playing with your sleeve. “In my line of work, I got to meet your father several times and I also got to find out all the non-so perfect things he was tangled into. He asked for my help many times and I did help but I’m not you like you, Cupcake. I can be a giver but I take in return. I asked for you.” He concluded with a smile.

A laugh fell out from your mouth at that. “You do know we are not in the Middles Ages, right? My father can’t sell me to some man like cattle to pay his debts.”

“Who said anything about selling? All I’m asking is for you to come with me tonight. We’ll see where we go from here.” His hand let go of your sleeve to caress your arm.

You recoiled from him as if you had been burnt. “Don’t touch me.” He gripped your arm this time and you gasped from the pain, dropping your phone on the floor. “I said don’t touch me or I’ll…”

“You’ll…what? You’ll scream?” He sneered. “And what? You’re gonna tell them I assaulted you when they rush here. Who’s gonna believe you? Huh?” He shook you by the arm and you tried to escape his grip again but to no avail. “We’ve been flirting all night and the rumor that we were caught nearly fucking in the ladies’ room has already spread. You’re the slut of the night, Cupcake.”

You glared at him once again, utterly disgusted. Then it hit you. How come you had not seen it before? Lloyd hadn’t changed, he had always been like this and chose not to show it to you until now because you refused to please him, like you always did. “You’re sick.”

An evil smirk curled his lips. “Didn’t seem to bother you when my tongue was down your throat or when you were rubbing against my dick like a cat in heat.”

He pulled you against him, imprisoning your arms against his hard chest and tilted your chin up with his other hand so you would look at him. “Now you’ve got two choices. You come with me, we have some fun and your father gets to keep his perfect public face or your refuse and I’ll expose his scams. Believe me, they’re numerous.”

You sniffed disdainfully. “If you think for a second, I care about my father’s successful career or my mother’s for that matter, you’re clearly mistaken. Let them be ruined.”

“Oh, but you are forgetting one very important thing, Cupcake.” He stroked your chin. “You are all sharing the same name. You, above anyone else, should know the importance of it. Your career will be ruined too.” He concluded with a sardonic smile.

“Think about it: no more family cases, no more helping those in need…what will they do without you?”

Horrified, you closed your eyes to try and escape the reality of the situation, his mocking smile, his taunting voice. This fucking name. A curse more than anything else, a burden that hard ruined your whole life and kept doing it. Devoid of any choice once again all because of a man. There was no chance to escape from it. You couldn’t contain the tears of rage and frustration that rolled down your cheeks this time. You fell Lloyd’s lips against your skin, kissing the tears away in a tender but mocking gesture. Then, he embraced you and made you sway with him gently.

“What do you say, Cupcake? Up for some sweet treat with your very good friend?”

You nodded against his chest, too defeated and enraged to speak.

“That’s my girl”. He purred, kissing your forehead. “I knew you would take the right decision, always trying to please me. You are my perfect little wound licker. Too perfect to let you slip away from me once again. You are mine now and I will never let you go.”

Tagging: @naaladareia (Thanks for the support love)

#rooshallowcream #rooshallocream #writing challenge #lloyd hansen x plus size reader #lloyd hansen #the gray man #fics #plus size reader

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