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yuri-is-online · 10 months

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The Quiet Part (Azul, Jade, and Trey x Yuu)

"Oh can I help you? You seem to be lost." You attempt to cheerfully ask the vaguely familiar looking person in front of you. As if he is deliberately trying to rub salt in your wounds, Crowley ignored your request to leave campus for NRC parents day and is instead making you and Grim run errands. The person in front of you, blissfully ignorant to your inner turmoil perks up at your attention.

"Forgive me for asking, but are you the magicless prefect?" You and Grim exchange a confused glance. "You've got to be right?" They're practically glowing with how happy they are to see you. " Oh I'm sorry, I've just heard so much about you!" Wait, what?

notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, in-law fishing (Azul and Jade) vs sibling smack down (Trey), if you liked this please check my master list here.

Azul

"Well aren't you just darling!" You fold your clipboard just a bit closer to your chest, you don't think this excitable plump lady is intending to intimidate you but she is all up in your personal space. Her pearlescent hair frames her face perfectly, nicely complementing her large black hat that reminds you of a Victorian aristocrat on her way to the opera. She just lacks the fancy cigarette case.

"Hey lady back off my hench human! You're spooking 'em!" Grim pouts with his hands on his hips but only succeeds in changing her attention to him.

"And you must be the dire beast! Simply marvelous I didn't think Zuzu would let me have a chance to see you two at all." She sighs, clearly happy in a vaguely sinister way where her familiar looking smile doesn't reach her eyes. "Oh where are my manners? I'm-"

"Mother!" A very flusterd octopus runs, well more like flails, his way up the main street towards the woman your speaking with, but she doesn't do more than wave before returning to her conversation with you.

"-Mrs. Ashengrotto! Say darling are you free for a bit?" She's back to crowding you once again while Azul moves in between the two of you. "I have been so looking forward to meeting my poopsy's friends."

"Mother please, the prefect is extremely busy. There's no need for them to show you around campus, what sort of son would I be if I-"

"That's besides the point." Mrs. Ashengrotto's smile doesn't fade but the warmth of her voice most certainly does. Still Azul remains firm, extending an arm to keep you from moving towards his mother, or maybe to keep her from closing in on you? "You can't expect me to not be curious! You never have written such glowing things about-"

"That's enough mother." Grim yanks on your pant leg and points towards the path to Sam's shop.

"It is not poopsy you can't just ask for advice and then refuse every opportunity to use it." Mrs. Ashengrotto huffs in disappointment and elegantly shakes her finger as you and Grim begin to slowly inch away.

"I have no idea what it is you are talking about mother," Azul pushes his glasses further up his face, silently pleading with you to run faster "and I am certain the prefect doesn't either so please, allow me to escort you to the Monstro Lounge that you have been so eager to see." His mother pouts, pouts! At him puffing her cheeks up with air before finally looking behind him and realizing you aren't there.

"Oh absolutely not, I am not letting this fish out of my net." She mutters muscling her son out of the way. "Yoo hoo! Darling are you certain you can't at least stay for dinner?"

"Mother!"

"Or maybe forever?"

"MOTHER!"

Jade

"Well now, this is a surprise, watcha doin here Jade?" Grim asks as you step foot into the Pomefiore lounge. Normally asking Jade anything is akin to sticking your foot in your mouth but you have to admit, you are sort of curious why Jade and Vil, the two most composed people on campus, are standing awkwardly in the corner clearly a bit out of place while two men you assume are their father's seem to be having a grand time chatting it up on the couch. Disturbingly, Jade makes eye contact with you with a look you almost think is screaming for help.

"Yoooo!" The Leech father is tall, and the speed with which he snaps up off the couch and approaches you does not help at all with his naturally intimidating aura. "You've gotta be the prefect right? Mr. Leech!" He extends a hand and you look at Jade who just smiles at you as you gingerly take his father's hand and immediately regret it with how he nearly snaps your arm off with his hand shake.

"Um yes that's me, can I help you?" You wince and try to avoid rolling your wrist too much. Mr. Leech looks a bit confused.

"Mhm? Don't you have any folks visiting today?" You look at Jade who reluctantly draws attention to himself with a cough.

"Their situation is a bit unique father." You're thankful Jade doesn't say more than that

"Well why didn't you say that? Now I look like an ass." Mr. Leech claps the back of his head and mutters. "And here I had everything I wanted to say to the in laws planned out already, shit." He turns back to you with a smile and Vil's dad lets out an elegant laugh.

"From a certain point of view that makes your task easier no?" Vil's father says as Jade reluctantly moves out of the corner towards his father, clearly looking for an excuse to get him out of Vil's hair.

"If you are done saying hello to your friend, would you like to see some of the mountain lover's club projects?" Jade asks, already gently herding him towards the door as his father shrugs.

"Sure, you coming kid?" Why is he looking at you and why is Jade giving you that strange look again? "Jade's told his mom all about your hikes, gotta admit I don't really get the appeal myself but it sounds like you two have a grand old time with it."

"The headmage technically has me-" Mr. Leech wraps one arm around your shoulder and another around Jade's and resumes the march towards the door.

"Aww don't worry about that!" It's clear you aren't getting out of this with just how terrified Grim is, he's practically rooted to his spot as Mr. Leech loosens his grip to wave over his shoulder at Vil and his dad. "See ya next Sunday Eric!"

"Good luck! Don't scare them off!"

Trey

Two small children stare up at you with sharp eyes, judgmentally you think but you can't be too sure. "You are the prefect right?" Asks the little boy, definitely judgmentally. "I thought you would be prettier or at least more handsome."

"Hey!" snaps his sister, who doesn't hesitate to hit him in a display that you are sure would give her parents a headache. "Big brother never lies to us about stuff!" Her brother scowls and rubs his head.

"Big brother lies all the time, what else do you call those 'secret ingredients' of his?" He goes back to staring you down and you and Grim exchange a look.

"Yeah but not to us." The little girl crosses her arms and stares her brother down sternly. "He would never lie about something like that. Besides did you see how dopey he looks when he talks about them?" The little boy looks away from you with a pout, almost like you stole his toy or something while his sister rolls her eyes. "It is so obvious- you would absolutely know if you were a girl."

"That's got nothing to do with it! I'm just worried you know, it's important to make sure they pass the sniff test." He looks like he is questioning if he can get away with hitting his sister in front of you as you desperately look around for any sign of these kids' parents. "You would totally know if you were a boy."

"Uhhh hench human," Grim poorly whispers "you don't think these two are..." he doesn't finish his sentence but as you both examine the bickering duo you start to note all the little similarities between them and-

"Hey you two aren't causing problems on purpose are you?" Trey looks down sternly on the two kids who completely ignore his tone and jump on him immediately.

"TREY!"

"Are you gonna show us the hedgehogs?!" squeals the little girl.

"Forget that, I wanna see the Coliseum!" cheers the little boy. You breathe a sigh of relief, and wave to Trey getting ready to continue your patrol when the little girl looks after you confused.

"Aren't you gonna come?" She asks, so sweetly in comparison to the heat you're taking from her brother. Trey smiles at you, but he can't really bring himself to keep eye contact.

"The prefect's busy, I'm sure. They don't need to be running around after us all day." He sets them both down and starts herding them towards the mirror, shooting you a wink over his shoulder as he flicks his little brother on the forehead for sticking his tongue out at you. His sister sighs and you swear you hear her whine that-

"You just want to keep them to yourself. You can't keep me away forever, I swear I'll be a good wing woman, you're waaaay too lame to get a date yourself Trey!" You awkwardly look back down at your clipboard as Grim desperately tries to do the math in his head.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #jade leech x reader #trey clover x reader #i think azul's mom should be like #the mom equivalent of smooth jazz #she deserves to cover her mouth with her hand and go “ohohohoho”#“please marry my son I raised him so he knows how to cook <3”

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imagines-all-day-everyday · 1 year

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friends

summary: *yn* and damon are friends. good friends. just friends. nothing more, nothing less. until elena's eighteenth birthday party and the captain of the waterpolo team comes along, leaving damon wondering how much he really likes that term.

warnings: swearing, drinking, fluff, vampire stuff, cheating (kinda??)

"What do you think?"

"Give me a spin."

*yn* resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she complied, shuffling her body around in a circle.

"Oooh I really like this one." Caroline observed. She shifted on the small couch placed into the middle of the boutique as she took a few moments to run her eyes over *yn*'s body.

"I think this might be the one."

This time *yn* couldn't restrain herself as she threw her hands up in frustration and huffed.

"Care, you've said that about all of them."

"I'm sorry, it's not my fault you look good in everything!"

*yn* groaned in response as she shoved the curtain across the metal rod, concealing herself from Caroline once more.

"I give up." She exclaimed dramatically as she pulled the red dress over her head. "I'm just going to go with the blue one."

"If that's what it takes for you to stop whining." She heard Caroline mumble on the other side of the curtain.

"I heard that!"

The shrill ringtone of Caroline's phone rung out through the store.

"Oh sorry Elena's calling, be right back."

*yn* shook her head as she heard Caroline answer the phone and hurry out of the store. She slipped the blue dress back on over her head just as her shoulder bag began to vibrate.

She couldn't fight the small smile threatening to tug on her lips at the Caller ID.

"Well if it isn't my second favourite Salvatore brother."

"Ouch, why is it that you're always so mean to me?" Damon's amused voice slipped out through the speaker.

"Because being nice is boring." She answered as she slipped out of the change room.

"Using my own logic against me, I've taught you too well." She smiled at his words as she made her way over to the mirror.

"What are you up to? Down for a little road trip?"

"Can't sorry. Helping Caroline plan Elena's birthday party." *yn* twisted around in front of the mirror, scrutinising the dress from every angle.

"Ah yes the big eighteenth how could I forget."

"Why? Where are you going?" *yn* asked as she finally drew her attention away from the mirror.

"Tennessee."

Her brow furrowed at her answer. "Another potential Stefan victim?"

"Yep. The sheriff gave Elena another location."

"She's not going with-"

"No way. Told her I'd take it on myself."

There was a pause as *yn* glanced out the shop window to make sure Caroline was still out the front on the phone, her ears occupied and unable to listen in.

"They're going to be like the other victims, aren't they?"

"Probably."

She felt herself grow nauseous at the thought of what Damon would no doubt find in Tennessee. Even his verbal reports back to her had been enough to make her skin crawl. If there had been any doubts before if Stefan was a ripper, they were long gone by now.

"Are we ever going to tell her?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line. She heard Damon let out a sigh.

"If I find him and sort him out we won't ever have to."

"Alright just- just let me know how you go ok?" Despite her best efforts she couldn't hide the concern laced through her words.

"Always do. See you at the party."

"See you at the party."

"Oh *yln*-"

Damon's voice crackled through the speaker just as her finger hovered over the button to end the call.

"Yeah?" She pressed the phone to her ear once more.

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

"Wear the red one." *yn* swore she could practically hear his smirk through the phone before he hung up.

*yn* whirled around, the phone still pressed to her ear. Her eyes darted around the store and then out through the windows that revealed the main street of Mystic Falls.

Her heart was thumping in her chest and a blush was creeping up onto her cheeks. Damon was no where to be seen.

"Ugh god Elena is still complaining about this party, I swear it's like no one wants to have fun in this town anymore- are you ok?"

*yn* turned to see Caroline staring at her, brow raised when she noticed her flushed complexion.

"Uh- yeah fine." *yn* lied, swallowing as she turned to go back into the change room.

"Ok..." Caroline studied her before turning her attention back to her phone.

She glanced up once more after a few moments to see *yn* emerging from the change room, back in her jeans and tank top. Her brow furrowed.

"I thought you were getting the blue one?"

"Yeah I um-"

*yn* glanced down at the red material clutched in her arms.

"I changed my mind."

The bass felt like it was pounding against her skull. Sweaty bodies were brushing against her on all sides. She could already feel the back of her knees start to slick with sweat as she weaved through the crowd.

Apparently this was Caroline's definition of a 'small' party. Bodies occupied every square inch of the Salvatore boarding house. Her eyes slid over the hundred or so faces. Some she recognised from school. Others she had never seen before in her life.

She smoothed down the front of her short dress as she stepped around a couple making out at the bottom of the staircase. She could feel multiple sets of eyes on her as she moved deeper into the house. The waterpolo team bunched in the corner didn't even make an attempt to look away as she walked past.

She smirked to herself. She'd shown up with the intention of looking hot, so far it seemed to be going according to plan. She surveyed the crowd once more. A flash of blonde hair caught her eye, which she instantly made a beeline for.

"Care!"

Caroline swung around at *yn*'s voice, a grin spreading across her lips as she looked her up and down.

"Oh my freaking god you look so hot." She squealed as she lurched forward and wrapped her arms her shoulders.

*yn* laughed and squeezed her tightly back. "So do you."

"Who the hell are these people?"

"Friends of friends." Caroline shrugged. *yn* raised a brow at her before turning to survey the room. Her eyes involuntarily searching for one person in particular.

"C'mon, I need a shot." Caroline announced as she grabbed *yn*'s hand and tugged her towards the drinks table.

*yn* grinned as she let Caroline lead her through the crowd.

"Is everyone here?" *yn* shouted over the thumping bass.

"I think so." Caroline shouted back, her eyes gleaming as she spotted a bottle of tequila.

*yn* turned around, her eyes scanning the crowd once more.

"Oh actually I haven't seen that reporter girl yet, what's her name - Andrea or-"

"What?" *yn*'s neck snapped back around to look at Caroline.

"Andie's coming?"

Caroline paused and glanced up at her. She had just been about to pour the clear liquid into a shot glass.

"Yeah, Damon insisted on inviting her. Poor girl probably didn't have a choice knowing him." Caroline remarked as she turned her attention back to the bottle in her hand.

"Right." *yn* swallowed. She pressed her lips into a hard line. "Yeah."

She felt sick as she glanced down at the tight red dress covering her body. She suddenly felt incredibly stupid. That for even a moment she had let herself divulge in suppressed fantasies, that she'd let herself get hopeful that something might happen with the vampire that was supposed to be nothing more than one of her good friends.

That she had let herself indulge those feelings that she had always worked so hard to deny and ignore.

"Ok here-" Caroline cut herself off, the shot in her hand for *yn* to take suspended in midair.

She studied her friend for a moment. She withheld a sigh when she saw the tears threatening to pool in *yn*'s eyes.

"Ok no." She announced, slamming the shots back onto the table. The sound made *yn* jump, her eyes focusing back on her friend.

"We are so not doing this tonight."

"Wha-"

"You are not letting your night get ruined by Damon Salvatore of all people."

"Care-" *yn* began, glancing over her shoulder quickly to make sure Damon wasn't in sight before turning back to her. "He's my friend."

"Oh please." Caroline scoffed as she folded her arms in front of her chest. "You don't think I can tell when my best friend is crushing on a guy?"

*yn* felt her cheeks redden.

"Although I've been trying to ignore it given it is Damon-"

She ignored the glare *yn* gave her. "- and I've been hoping it was just a little phase, but clearly that was wishful thinking." She sighed as she gestured to *yn* who had opened her mouth to respond.

"I've known for months, so don't even try and deny it."

*yn* clamped her mouth shut. She felt her resolve weaken under Caroline's stare.

"If you tell a soul-"

"-you'll stake me I know. Your secret's safe with me." Caroline insisted.

With that *yn* felt her shoulders slump in defeat as her barriers finally crumbled down.

"I like him. A lot." She admitted.

"I think I always knew there was something there, but I don't think I realised how much until-" She cut herself off and bit her lip as she felt her eyes begin to water.

Caroline's hard gaze softened at the sight. "Hey, it's ok." Caroline comforted her, running a hand down her arm. "Do you want to go somewhere and talk about it?"

"No." *yn* shook her head as she sniffed. "No, like you said. I don't want this to ruin my night. It's been so long since we've actually had fun."

It was true. Before Damon and Stefan returned to Mystic Falls, *yn* was the life of the party, drinking almost every weekend and staying out way past curfew - much to her parents chagrin. But now, she could barely even remember what it felt like to be drunk and let loose.

Her answer made Caroline's eyes brighten. "Exactly, and you look way too hot right now to be crying over a guy."

*yn* followed Caroline's gaze to look around the room of warm bodies. Her eyes flitted over a few guys, her confidence sparking once more when she saw their eyes were already on her.

"You could have literally anyone you want in here."

She could have anyone she wanted, except for Damon. Almost as if she could read her mind, Caroline grabbed her hand.

"Ok, in my opinion you have two options right now." Caroline continued.

"You can go and tell Damon how you feel and let it out, or-" She paused as she raised the cup up to *yn*'s face. "You can get trashed with me and forget all about stupid boys."

*yn* raised a brow, not missing the hint of bitterness in Caroline's voice. It sounded a little bit too personal to just be about Damon. She decided to let it go however, as her eyes flickered down to the red solo cup and then back at Caroline.

"Make it a double."

Caroline's grin widened, "now you're sounding like my best friend."

*yn* watched as she eagerly poured extra into her cup, internally wincing at how free handed she was being with the liquor.

"To being hot and getting drunk." Caroline toasted once she'd handed *yn* her drink.

"To being hot and getting drunk." *yn* echoed, clinking their cups together before pressing it to her lips. She winced as the liquor burned her throat. She definitely had not missed that feeling.

"Ugh, speak of the devil."

*yn* followed Caroline's gaze behind her shoulder. She twisted around to see Elena and Damon making their way down the stairs.

Damon was dressed in black jeans and a blue button down with the sleeves rolled up his forearms. He looked annoyingly hot, as usual.

The pair hadn't spotted them yet as Caroline and *yn* made their way through the crowd towards them.

"Happy birthday!" Her and Caroline chorused as they reached them.

"You look amazing." *yn* grinned as she pulled her other best friend in for a tight hug.

"Thank you, so do you. The red is hot." Elena chuckled as they pulled away from each other.

*yn* could feel Damon's eyes on her but kept her focus on Elena.

"You like?" Caroline asked her, gesturing to the party around them.

"I-" Elena cut herself off as she glanced around the room. "This is keeping it small?"

Caroline didn't answer her, instead shooting her an innocent smile.

Elena couldn't fight the grin spreading across her lips as she let out a dramatic and defeated huff, "what are we drinking?"

Caroline giggled and gripped Elena's arm and tugged her towards the drinks table.

*yn* watched them go, feeling Damon's eyes still on her. Caroline's words echoed in her head. She was right. Just because she had feelings doesn't mean she had to act weird or let it get to her. He was still her friend, first and foremost. There was no reason to change how she was around him.

She took a breath and made sure her face was the perfect picture of normalcy before turning around to meet his gaze.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself." He answered, his eyes dragging down her front before flicking up to her face.

"Nice dress."

"Thanks, I had help picking it out."

A smirk twitched up onto his lips. "Well, they've got excellent taste. They're a good friend."

Friend. The word stung more than it usually did.

She forced a smile onto her lips, "that they are."

"*yn*! Get over here we're doing birthday shots!" Elena called out to her.

*yn* glanced over her shoulder and nodded before looking back up at Damon.

"Sorry, duty calls." She shrugged innocently.

"Please." He gestured for her to go. It was then that she noticed the bottle of bourbon in his hand. "Don't let me stop you."

She shot him one last grin before making her way towards Elena and Caroline.

Damon's eyes followed her the whole way there.

"I am every parents worst nightmare." Alaric sighed. "I am the chaperone teacher from hell."

"I love high school parties." Damon grinned as he jumped up onto the ledge.

"Isn't Andie supposed to be coming?"

"10 o'clock broadcast, she'll be here in a little bit."

"Uh huh." Ric remarked as he took a deep drink. Damon's brow furrowed as he glanced up from his glass.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"What is what supposed to mean?"

"That little face you just made. Something wrong with Andie?"

"With your fake compelled girlfriend? No not at all." Ric drawled sarcastically.

"Hey it's a complicated dynamic ok."

"Or it's a distraction."

Damon's eyes narrowed even further. "Distraction from what exactly Ric?"

"Hey Mr Saltzman!" A loud voice prevented Ric from answering.

They both glanced up to see a tall, muscular guy approaching them through the door that led into the party. He was wearing a Mystic Falls High varsity jacket.

Damon frowned when he saw a flash of red behind him. He froze mid sip when he saw that flash of red belonged to *yn*'s dress.

"Jake." Alaric nodded in greeting.

Jake came to a stand still in front of them, a wide grin on his face. "*yn* told me you were chaperoning."

Then all eyes were on *yn*, who was now standing beside him. Jake's arm wrapped around her shoulders to pull her against him.

Damon felt something twist inside him.

"Had to see it for myself."

"Here I am." Alaric chuckled awkwardly.

"See I told you!" She giggled as she swayed against him. Her eyes were glassy and cheeks were flushed. A bottle in her hand.

"Badass Mr Saltzman." Jake complimented. It was then that his eyes landed on Damon. Confusion flashed across his features as he tried to place him.

"Oh Jake this is my friend." *yn* introduced, "Damon Salvatore."

Friend. It was what he was to her, the correct title to describe their relationship. But tonight, in front of this guy, it prodded something inside him. Unfurling inside him like a wasp injecting its barbed stinger into his veins.

"Salvatore... oh shit so you own this place?" Jake's eyes lit up in recognition.

"Home sweet home." Damon remarked, unable to hide the annoyance in his voice as he took a deep sip of his bourbon.

"It's dope. Sickest party location for sure." Jake complimented.

"Oi Masters!"

The group turned around to see another boy standing at the precipice of the home. "We're about to start another round, get your ass in here!"

"Beer pong." Jake explained to the group. "I'm the reigning champion." He boasted proudly. Damon rolled his eyes when Jake glanced down at *yn* for a reaction who giggled and patted his chest.

"I didn't realise we were in the presence of such a high performance athlete." He remarked earning a snort from Ric.

The liquor swishing around in Jake's stomach seemed to hinder his ability to pick up on Damon's sarcasm as he looked up and shot him another grin.

"Alright, it was nice meeting you Damon. See you in school Mr Saltzman."

Ric tilted his head in acknowledgement and Damon simply shot him a tight lipped smile.

"See you guys later." *yn* waved before bursting into a fit of giggles as Jake eagerly pulled her back inside.

Damon glanced down. His grip on his glass tightened. Jake's hand was entwined with hers.

Ric glanced between the disappearing couple and Damon.

"Careful buddy, you might break that glass."

"I hate high school jocks." Was all Damon responded with as he drained his drink and immediately reached for the bottle.

"What's his deal anyway?"

"Who? Jake Masters?" Alaric queried. He let out a scoff when Damon inclined his head.

"Uh I don't know, he's the captain of the waterpolo team. Not the greatest at history, thinks he's gods gift to women, the usual." Alaric shrugged.

Damon hummed in response. He swirled his drink in his hand absentmindedly as his eyes fixed on the doorway that *yn* and Jake had disappeared through.

"What time is Andie getting here again?" Ric asked him.

"Damon." Ric repeated after a few moments.

"What?"

Ric tried to hide his amused smirk as he studied his friend. "I said what time is Andie getting here again?"

"Oh uh-" Damon's eyes shifted back to the doorway. "11 or something." He spoke dismissively.

Almost as if they had a mind of his own, his legs pulled him up onto his feet. Unable to fight the pull to head inside anymore, he slammed his glass down. "I'm just going to go grab another drink."

Ric raised a brow and glanced at the nearly full bottle of bourbon placed between them. He smirked in amusement.

"You do that buddy."

"Oops sorry!"

Damon glared as another drunk teenager fumbled into him. He pressed the bottle to his lips and tilted his head back. His brow furrowed when the taste of bourbon didn't reach his tastebuds.

He glanced down and cursed under his breath when he saw it was empty. He tossed it to the ground before promptly plucking another bottle out of the hands of a girl passing him who looked like she was about to puke.

"No no, trust me you don't want this." He stared into her eyes, "you want to go outside and puke your guts out on the grass, not on my expensive leather couch."

He rolled his eyes as she nodded numbly and walked past him. He pressed his body against the wooden support beam, his eyes drifting over the unfamiliar faces.

"If you're looking for *yn*, I last saw her in the stoner den."

He glanced to his left to see Elena standing beside him.

"I wasn't. But thanks for the update." He answered as he pressed the new bottle to his lips.

Elena didn't need to know that he'd spent the last twenty minutes trying to find her and had now given up and decided to sulk in the corner.

"Whatever you say."

His eyes narrowed as he glared down at her. She met his gaze with an innocent smile. He resisted the urge to ask her what she meant by that, because a part of him knew exactly what she was hinting at - which had been exactly what Ric had been hinting at - and that was a conversation he wasn't exactly ready to face.

"Have fun sulking." She patted his shoulder and disappeared into the crowd. He watched her go as he took another gulp. What had started out as a fun night was quickly becoming a chore.

He stiffened when his ears detected a laugh that he knew like the back of his hand. Sure enough, it wasn't long until his eyes fell on *yn*.

He clenched his jaw when he saw that she was following after Jake Masters. He was still holding her hand, and was now leading her towards the centre of the room where a dance floor had formed.

Jake turned to *yn* and leant down, whispering in her ear as he encircled his arms around her waist. She laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck as the two began to move to the heavy bass.

As Jake moved, a vein in his neck pulsed out. Damon felt the veins stir under his eyes. All he needed was to sink his teeth into that vein and he could rip his head clean-

"Hasn't anyone ever taught you it's rude to stare?"

Damon ripped his eyes away from the couple, turning his steely gaze to Caroline.

"What do you want blondie." He muttered as he turned his attention back to the dance floor.

"Nothing. Just here to remind you that you are in front of hundreds of people so now is not really the time to get your dracula on."

He rolled his eyes, "I'm fine."

"Really? Because to me it looks like you're about to go rip Jake Masters head off."

Damon's gums ached at he mention of his name.

"Don't you have other things to be worried about blondie?" He sneered.

"Not really."

"Not even your little wolf boy getting it on with a leggier version of you over there?"

Caroline followed his gaze to see Tyler and none other than slutty Sophie of all people grinding on each other in the middle of the room. Caroline ground her teeth and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Doesn't bother me." Her voice raised an octave.

"You sure about that? I think that bottle is suffocating." Caroline glanced down and huffed as she loosened the grip on the wine bottle.

"This isn't about me." Caroline hissed as she turned to face him.

"This is about you admitting that seeing Jake and *yn* together is driving you crazy."

"Why would it?"

"Uh gee Damon, I don't know let me think, maybe because you have feelings for her?"

Her words were like a slap in the face. It was the first time anyone had said it out loud. Had dared to voice what they had all been thinking. All of a sudden it felt very real. Very much a possibility that Damon did indeed have feelings for his friend. He felt like the room was closing in on him.

Damon shook his head and forced a chuckle out past his lips, "sorry blondie, but you don't know what you're talking about."

"Really?" She raised her brow, "so that doesn't bother you in the slightest?"

He turned his head and his eyes found *yn*'s figure instantly. His jaw clenched and he pursed his lips.

She had turned around to press her back against Jake's. His hands were roaming her side, brushing the red fabric higher up her thighs. He was placing kisses along her neck and muttering into her ear which was making her giggle.

That single wasp inside him had now spawned into a hive, stinging him from the inside out. Right then and there, he could have ripped the heads off every single person in this room. Tear them limb from limb. Anything to get rid of this sick feeling in his stomach.

A feeling he hadn't felt in a long time, perhaps ever.

A feeling you most definitely did not have towards a friend.

"Oh is that Jake Masters with *yn*?" Elena had reappeared beside him.

"Good for her, he's so hot-"

Damon didn't hear anything else after that, because in that moment Jake had leant in and whispered into her ear once more.

"What do you say we go find somewhere quieter to talk?"

His pulse was ringing in his ears, Jake's smarmy voice slithering around in his head. His legs had moved before he had even decided to. Making a beeline for *yn*.

He had no idea what his plan was. All he knew was that if he didn't get her away from his guy, he was going to murder someone. Jealousy had never agreed with him. It made him even uglier than usual.

"I need to talk to you."

*yn* twisted around in Jake's arms, her eyes widening in surprise at the sight of Damon standing in front of her.

"I'm a little busy."

Damon glared at Jake behind her before his eyes flickered down to her.

"It's important."

"I'm sure it can wait." She shot back.

Jake glanced between them, his brow furrowing as he tried to understand what was going on.

"Jake-" Damon began as he locked eyes with the teenager. "Why don't you go do us proud and win another beer pong championship." He cocked his head and grinned, "and don't come back."

Jake's eyes clouded over momentarily, before he blinked and his eyes focused on *yn*.

"Will do!" Jake grinned.

"Damon!" *yn* protested. It was futile as Jake's hands slipped from around her waist. They watched as he marched towards the kitchen with a determined pace.

"What the hell." She growled as she glared up at him. "I was having fun."

"Of course you were, who wouldn't be with the reigning beer pong champion of Mystic Falls." Damon drawled as he gripped her elbow and dragged her through the crowd.

"I wasn't planning on marrying the guy." She snapped back as he led her up the stairs. "He's hot, it's a party. You do the math."

He gritted his teeth at her answer as he guided her into his bedroom.

"You're drunk."

She huffed as she stormed into the centre of the room.

He shut the door. The noise from the party underneath them was immediately dampened. Now only a dull roar, background noise that occasionally seeped in through the floorboards.

"I don't want you making a decision you'll regret tomorrow."

She inhaled sharply before swivelling around to face him. Her fists clenched at her sides.

"That's not your decision to make."

"You're right. It's not." He nodded as he stalked towards her, "but I'm the one who's going to have to pick up the pieces if you get hurt."

She let out a bark of laughter. "Get hurt? I was dancing with him not running off to get eloped."

"Well we all know where it was heading."

Her eyes narrowed at his response.

"Last time I checked you're my friend, not my parent."

Friend. There it was again. That one little noun that was causing so much heartache. So much turmoil inside him.

*yn* knew she should leave it at that. But anger and liquor never mixed well inside her. And she was hurt and confused. All she had wanted to do was distract herself from him and her feelings, yet now it seemed like she couldn't escape him.

Now she felt like she was going crazy because if she didn't know any better, she could have sworn he was jealous.

"Don't you have anything better to do? Isn't your girlfriend supposed to be here?"

Damon didn't miss the way her lips almost curled into a sneer as they formed the word.

"She's working late."

His answer made her stomach drop. Of course they were still together. How stupid could she be to even let herself think for one moment that they might have broken up, that he might-

"Right." She nodded. "Well, I appreciate the whole friend intervention thing or whatever this is." She gestured to him as she took a few steps forward. "But I'm going back to the party."

She had made it all the way past him when she felt his hand curl around her forearm, rooting her in place.

"You seem to be really enjoying using the word 'friend' tonight."

Silence fell over the pair. Her eyes fluttered shut as she inhaled shakily. She opened her eyes once more and stared at the closed door. She could feel Damon's eyes burning holes in the back of her head.

His hand was yet to leave her bare arm.

"Well that's what you are."

She remembered Caroline's words as she tried to control her nerves. She exhaled as she tried to calm her beating heart as she turned to face him.

"Right?"

She kept her gaze defiant and determined as they locked eyes. He searched her eyes, seemingly looking for something in particular.

"I don't know." He began as he took a step toward her.

His ring band was burning into her skin. Her heart hammered.

"Do friends get the urge to rip the heads off arrogant jocks who touch their other friends?"

*yn* swallowed as she held his gaze. Her mind was going at a million miles an hour. She could barely process what was happening.

"Do friends feel physically ill when they hear the word friend being used to describe their relationship?"

Another step forward. His piercing green eyes flickered down to her lips and then back to her eyes.

"Damon-"

She cut herself off as Damon's hand cradled the side of her face. His teeth captured his bottom lip as his eyes once again fell to her mouth. The pad of his thumb glided over her bottom lip.

"I don't think I want to be your friend anymore *yn*." He murmured, his voice causing goosebumps to rise on the back of her neck.

"In fact, I don't think I've hated the word as much as I do right now." He whispered as he pressed his forehead against hers.

The alcohol running through her veins was clouding her reasoning, not even giving her a chance to think about Andie or Jake, or what the implications of this in the morning would be.

But in that moment, she didn't care. All she could think about was the smell of his cologne invading her senses and the feeling of his fingers running along her hot skin. About how desperate she was to have his mouth on hers.

All it took was the slightest tilt of *yn*'s chin to connect their lips. Her eyes fluttered shut as he finally let go of her arm to bring his other hand up to her cheek, cupping her face in his hands.

Their lips moved in sync as she pressed herself against him, nearly letting out a moan at the feeling. Her hands threaded themselves through his hair as he moved one hand to ensnare her waist. His hand travelled down just as she-

"They're kissing!" The muffled voice on the other side of the door made them pull apart in surprise. She glanced over her shoulder.

"Caroline?" *yn* asked as Damon ran a hand over her lower back. Damon nodded.

"And Elena."

*yn* let out a breathy laugh as she turned back to look up at him.

"Moment ruined?" He asked, a rare smile spreading across his lips as he studied her.

"Kinda." She grinned back as she leant up to capture his lips in another kiss.

They pulled apart after a few moments, pressing their foreheads together as they caught their breaths.

"I have to say *yln*." Damon murmured, a smirk twisting up onto his lips.

"I love not being your friend."

I love this fic, it's been so long since I've just done a stand alone fic!!! As always, feedback is always appreciated. Please give it back here x

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cryptidghostgirl · 1 month

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Drawing Down the Moon (Alastor x Ancient Roman!Witch!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: I don't think there are any? Please correct me if I am wrong. The subject matter is a little niche.

Description: Alastor reencounters an old friend.

Word Count: 2,871

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A/N i’ve been reading about roman magic laws for school okay?? don’t judge me. Maybe one of the nichest things I've ever written (except that one Akutagawa x Reader fic I have on my Wattpad where I made them talk to one another in ancient Greek and Latin (its called Leo, Leonis and tbh, that fic slaps if I do say so myself)). Won't be surprised if no one reads or likes this one but I don't care. This will be a monster of a fic, she's been lurking in the recesses of my mind for a hot second now.

"Why would she lie for so long? Does she think I wouldn't accept her?" Charlie was animatedly talking at Alastor as they walked the streets of Hell, "What about me, ME, says un understanding... misunderstanding?... Disunder- Wait, w-where are we?"

Alastor sprung to life as Charlie finally asked a question he had an answer to. Theatrically, he stepped into her curious line of sight, his arms held wide.

"Cannibal Town!" respectfully, Alastor turned and took Charlie's arm in his own, "There's a friend of mine I think you should meet."

"In Cannibal Town?" Charlie doubtfully asked as Alastor began to lead her towards a crowded shop entrance, "But it's... it's... surprisingly nice here."

"Isn't it, though?" Alastor proudly replied, "And it is all thanks to a very special someone."

Alastor opened the stained glass doors to the emporium, allowing Charlie to walk through them before he followed in her wake. The store was full, packed to the brim with cannibals of all sorts, all of whom seemed to part respectfully in the face of Alastor, allowing him to approach the front counter with Charlie trailing after him.

"Ah, Johnny my good fellow." Alastor hummed to the cashier, leaning casually on the counter.

The demon seated behind the table looked up with a wide smile.

"Mister Alastor, it has been quite a while since we've seen your face around these parts."

Charlie watched the interaction in mild surprise. It wasn't often she had the pleasure of meeting someone Alastor knew who didn't hate him or want him dead. Curiosity clouded her mind as Alastor waved the man off.

"I don't mean to be rude but, we're in a bit of a rush." Alastor said, politeness pooling delicately around his words, "Rosie wouldn't happen to be in, would she?"

"Ah, well, you see, Mister Alastor..." the demon seemed slightly uncomfortable, scratching at his ear slightly, "She's a tad... preoccupied at the moment?"

"A guest?" Alastor asked.

"A guest." Johnny reluctantly confirmed.

"Well, no matter. Is she in the back?"

"Yes," Johnny got to his feet, leaning forward as Alastor linked arms with Charlie once again, leading her behind the counter, "but I really don't think it's a good idea to... and they're gone."

"Wasn't that rude?" Charlie asked as Alastor pulled her behind the curtain that separated the main store from the backrooms and Rosie's apartment, "Oh no, is that guy going to get in trouble? Because of us?"

"Everything will be just fine my dear, don't you worry." Alastor patted her hand reassuringly as they came to stop before a door.

Letting Charlie's arm fall free, he straightened his jacket just the slightest bit before knocking on the door. There was a moment of silent anticipation before a voice from the other side called:

"Who is it?!"

"Alastor, Rosie." Alastor replied calmly.

There was a rustling of fabric, a handful of hasty footsteps, and the door swung open to reveal a woman. She was tall and beautiful in her long dress and her wide brimmed hat.

"Oh my stars!" she exclaimed with a bright smile, "Do my eyes deceive me? Alastor? Alastor! Where have you been? These halls really lost some of their sparkle without your lively presence and-"

The woman, Rosie, trailed off as she caught sight of Charlie standing beside her dear friend.

"Oh, who's this you brought with you? Come now, Alastor, she's much too young for you. Oh, I'm just kidding. But where are your manners, Mister? Introduce us, why don't you?"

"Ah, yes, Charlie, this is Rosie: the most darling, delightful, and dangerous Overlord this side of the pentagram."

At his words, Rosie smiled, giving a perfect curtsy. It was as her form lowered that Charlie caught sight of the interior of the room, and the strange seated figure it housed. Alastor seemed not to have noticed and as Rosie straightened herself up again, she laughed slightly.

"Oh, always such a charmer."

"And Rosie," Alastor continued, "it is my pleasure to introduce you to Princess Charlie Morningstar, daughter of Lucifer and heir to the throne of Hell."

Charlie smiled weakly, waving slightly at the imposing and nearly off-puttingly cheerful woman.

"How do you do?" she asked awkwardly, "I am very sorry for interrupting your meeting, I tried to get Alastor to wait but..."

"Oh, yes!" Rosie suddenly exclaimed, almost as if she had forgotten about her previous guest in all the excitement, "Come on in you two, I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

Charlie was about to protest when Rosie grabbed her by the arm, dragging her into the room. Alastor followed, turning his back as he shut the door behind them. Charlie's mouth fell open slightly as her eyes finally saw the truth of Rosie's guest.

She was tall, probably tall enough to rival Alastor or Rosie herself. Skin tinged slightly blue, she seemed to be covered in a faint gold dust that clung to her draped, toga-like dress and skin in equal amount. Heaps of gold jewelry hung on every inch of her as well, wrapping her wrists, her neck, her ankles, her fingers, even braided into her hair. Resting atop her head was a crown of gold with a half moon on it, her feet were bare. With wide, white eyes that nearly seemed unseeing, the woman watched Charlie carefully.

"Can I offer you something to eat?" Rosie was asking, but Charlie could barley hear her, unable to break eye contact with the woman, "I'm sure I have a leg around here or something..."

"I am afraid were not here for food." Alastor thankfully stepped in, turning to Rosie with closed eyes and a wide smile, "We happen to be in need of some help."

"Alastor?" the woman spoke and her voice resounded in itself, loud yet soft at the same time, singular and yet somehow plural.

"Well, aren't you fresh."

That was the first thing she had ever said to him. Alastor had been wandering Hell, minding his own business when he had heard that voice say those words and felt a fire ignited in him. Slowly, he had turned around to see a pair of towering demons. Overlords, he realized, and big ones at that. Alastor's smile sharpened at its edges as he began to formulate a plan.

Charlie turned at last, as if whatever spell the stranger had cast on her had broken at the sound of her voice, to look at Alastor in mild confusion. She heard his breath hitch in his throat. The man in question was frozen, his ears twitching wildly, his eyes now wide open.

"Is that you?" the demon asked again.

Alastor somehow seemed to reassemble himself before their very eyes. Slowly, he turned to the room's only occupied chair.

"Who are you?"

Alastor feigned innocence, looking up at the titan herself as she took a step forward. In an instant, she stood at his height, looking him dead in the eyes.

"An odd one too." she hummed thoughtfully, white eyes tracking the stars, reading his future it almost seemed, "Most people go with what before who."

Alastor was unsure how to respond to that one. The titan chuckled, a grin flashing across her face. It was unexpected, disconcerting. Alastor hadn't thought her face capable of any expression save solemn disinterest. She turned her head slightly to the side, looking back over her shoulder to her companion.

"Zestial, cara mea?"

The spidery demon took a step forward, meeting her eyes.

"Yes?"

"Don't you have something you need to be getting to?"

Alastor may have been dumbstruck, but he wasn't stupid. He heard the order as clearly as if she had not bothered with the formalities of disguising it. It shocked Alastor to his core. This might be his first time encountering Zestial but, he had heard the demon's name before. Most frequently, it had been spat at him by his victims who claimed that one of Hell's oldest and most respected demons would come for him. So who was this other overlord, the titan? Sure, he'd heard of her before but enough that such blatant disrespect towards Hell's most respected made sense? No. Not at all, in fact.

Zestial paused a moment before bowing his head slightly.

"You're quite right." he hummed, "I will be seeing you presently I expect?"

"Perchance." the titan lazily replied, her gaze having long since switched back to Alastor, set on analyzing his features, "I'll let you know."

With another polite bow, Zestial had turned and began walking in the opposite direction. The titan held an arm out for Alastor. He looked at it curiously before meeting the demon's eye's again. She laughed.

"So suspicious. I thought you we're the one killing overlords, not me."

His eyes went wide.

"How do you..." he cleared his throat, "how did you know?"

It was a stupid question and he knew it. There hadn't been any secret keeping, not really. Sure, he never outright said he was the Radio Demon who broadcasted screams but he supposed there couldn't be many Radio Demon's out there really. It didn't matter that he had only been going after overlords for a month or so now, she was one. Of course she would know.

"Let's go for a walk, shall we?"

All it took was one look. Suddenly, he was new again, spat fresh out of life on Earth and in to Hell's gaping maw. One look at her, and he dissolved at the edges, forming and reforming his own ability to speak and comprehend the world around him.

"It is." the woman hummed, a wide smile breaking across her face, revealing the blackness of her teeth, her mouth.

Alastor soon formed a bit of a soft spot for the inhuman overlord. It was that first meeting, that first walk. He had asked, hunting for information to wield against her, about her life on Earth and in Hell. It was her fault really, for answering. That's what had him stuck.

Y/n had laid her life out for him like a freshly pressed table cloth. She had been raised on the streets of ancient Rome and executed as a witch. She was perhaps the oldest demon remaining in Hell, the exterminations having eventually wiped out even the strongest members of her times. Just as Alastor had been reborn as a deer due to his death, so too was she reborn as what they had accused her of. Every ritual, every spell, prophecy itself all worked for her. It was then Alastor understood the interaction he had witnessed between Zestial and Y/n, then he understood the respect.

He found himself drawn to her more and more and, somehow, he always seemed to be able to find her when he went searching. He assumed it was some strange magical nonsense she controlled. Alastor didn't question it.

Y/n showed him Hell in a way he had never seen it before. She taught him where to gather herbs and how to use them, how to bend the earth to his will, how to spin iunges and call down the storms, the rain, the moon. Alastor devoured, fed by her hand.

It was odd, Charlie had never seen a demon like her before. The white eyes, the teeth black with what seemed to be darkness, the gold. All of it was off putting yet somehow, captivating. Alastor seemed to be acting weird, his eyes flitting wildly across the woman, taking in her every detail. Charlie wasn't sure what to do about that.

In some sense, Alastor seemed to be scared. In another, he was in an overjoyed state of disbelief. Charlie wasn't sure which was more disconcerting, or how to respond to either and so, she simply watched.

"I have a question, mea ocella."

Y/n announced one day and Alastor turned from where he sat spinning stories into his microphone at her feet. That was what she had called him, her little eye. She told him it was a term of endearment. Alastor had no reason to doubt. The red grass swayed slightly in the breeze as he looked up at her, immediately bringing a halt to his broadcast.

"What is it?"

"You've been so set on ending all us overlords for so long now," she hummed, "wouldn't you like to do something different?"

"Something like what?"

"See from the other side of the glass."

Her white eyes glowed blue, the gold on her skin shining out into the world around like stars. Alastor sighed.

"You're prophesying again."

She nodded in agreement. Y/n had never seen the point in lying, she had never known its use. Not since before she could remember, back in the times she lived. They were so distant now, so immaterial and unimportant she rarely payed those memories much mind.

"So, what is it you see me doing?"

"Simple riddle or play on words?"

The two types of prophesy, the two options. Alastor put a finger to his chin, humming in thought.

"Simple riddle. Please, not in dactylic hexameter if you would, decoding that always gives me a headache."

"But that has been the meter of prophecy since Justice herself sat on the Delphic throne, mea ocella." Y/n retorted in surprise, meeting Alastor's eyes.

"Yeah, well."

Y/n laughed lightly, looking back out blankly toward the future.

"As you wish, ocella. Just this once. My gift to you."

Alastor hummed his non-comital thanks, turning his gaze back out the the skyline of the city as well.

"One will be two, two will be four, when that number comes be ready for more. Seven years past under grim sudden stress, four becomes ten, I'll tell you what happens next. Help one bright star to the top, not too far, and you will be free from the one not the three."

"Rhymes? Really?"

Y/n looked down at him, the glow fading from her as their eyes met and the future vanished from the scope of her vision.

"You asked for no hexameter, I still get to have fun."

"Yeah, yeah."

The pair fell into a comfortable silence. Alastor ran the words of her fortune in his head, trying to gain any semblance of reason from them.

"They don't sound very... avoidable."

"That's because it's not one of the ones you can change."

"Oh."

Y/n pulled herself to her feet suddenly, her chiton swirling around her. Alastor watched in awe as her image flickered in the air for a moment between the image of herself just a head shorter than him, the one who loomed around nine feet tall, and some three headed monster at what must've been five stories. Leaning, she held a hand out for him to grasp. It took Alastor a moment to realize, shaking his head slightly as he at last accepted Y/n's help and got to his feet.

"Where are we going?"

"I've decided you are going to be an overlord, mea ocella."

"Why?"

"I think it might help you down the line."

It had been years since Alastor had seen her. Long before he had taken his so called seven year sabbatical, Y/n had vanished. Alastor knew she wasn't dead, he would have been able to tell if she was dead. Surly the world would have shifted in some new and strange way to lose the goddess of the crossroads, the titan, Hekate made flesh and blood. Nothing like that had happened and so he knew she was alive, just not where or how.

Y/n's prophecies were always accurate. Standing here before her now, Alastor recalled her words from all those decades before.

One will be two, two will be four. When that number comes, be ready for more.

One had been just him. Two? When he had died and met his shadow. Alastor realized now that three had been Y/n herself and that the fourth important person who had come into his afterlife was the very person who owned his soul.

Seven years past under grim sudden stress, four becomes ten, I'll tell you what happens next.

Seven years he'd been gone, indeed under an unexpected and disastrous situation. When, after seven long years, he had returned to Hell, he had gone to the hotel. It was at the Hazbin Hotel that he not only met Charlie, Vaggie, Angel, and Sir Pentious but that they became vital parts of his life along with Husk and Nifty who before then had mostly existed on the periphery. Those six, plus the original four, made ten.

Help one bright star to the top, not too far, and you will be free from the one not the three.

All along, all those years ago, she had known. Alastor had always respected Y/n, always harbored a soft and disconcerting love for the witch. Never before now had either felt so overwhelming. Alastor took a trembling step forward from his place at Charlie's side. The world closed in, she was the only thing he could see.

Y/n smiled as he sunk to his knee before her, his head bowed.

"Mea ocella." she happily hummed, lifting his head up gently with the tips of her bluish grey fingers.

"Y/n."

----

This fic will probably have a part two.

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demonsword586 · 1 month

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Beelzebub Attacker part 1

Whew! This took a little longer than I expected. Then again,the first parts are always a bit longer. The next part is coming in a few days!

(Pg: Abyssos streets)

The crowded streets of Abyssos at night.

Nicknamed the Country of Pleasure,the nights were brighter than the days.

And there,you...

Sniff Sniff

Beelzebub: Ha....Smells nice...

You were walking down that busy,tumultous street with Beelzebub,a handsome man who smelled your hair and was openly horny.

Mc: Ah! Don't smell me there...

Beelzebub: Why not? It smells delicious-

Embarrassed,you tried to push Beelzebub away,but it was impossible because he had his arm around your shoulders,half-leaning on you.

The streets of Abyssos's entertainment district where even more devils come and became crowded as the sun set,

And you had no choice but to walk closer to Beelzebub to avoid being run over by other devils.

The devils grew in number,the neon lights of the night were blindly bright,and Beelzebub bamboozled you most of all.

His flushed face,his soft voice and his guidence.

Beelzebub: Welcome to the night of Abyssos,the city of drugs,gambling and pleasure.

Beelzebub: Abyssos is a country where everything is legal. Oh! Except stealing other's lovers.

Beelzebub: I wanted to introduce you to the back alleys of our proud Abyssos. For the pride of Abyssos is not in the palace but in the back streets.

Beelzebub: Everywhere in Gehenna is like a back alley,but no offense,it's nostalgic. Keke~

Beelzebub said many things as though he was excited. You had never seen Beelzebub in such high spirits before.

Beelzebub: Oh! I wanted to go to that store with you.

He raised his finger,pointing at the sign far away.

{White Lovers}

Beelzebub: That restaurant is famous for making it's sauce with the semen of the healthiest,best-batured male devils in Abyssos.

Beelzebub: It's such that you would dance at the healthy taste once you try it.

Mc: (What the....It's strange but I'm curious.)

Leaning on you to the point it made you staggger,Beelzebub spoke joyfully with his arm around your waist.

Then,he pointed at the sign on the next store with his finger and continued.

{Forest of mushrooms}

Beelzebub: The shop next door is a cafe rhat distills the saliva of the most handsome men in Abyssos to make a variety of drinks.

Beelzebub: It's been around for 800 years,so there's a lot of tradition and a lot of pride.

Beelzebub: At the end of the day,they collect saliva and put it in Baba Yaga's cauldron to distill overnight,then make a drink from it in the morning to sell.

Beelzebub: There's only a certain amount of spit you can collect per night,so there's a limited amount they can sell,and I've only tried it a few times.

Mc: (So weird,but I want to try it!)

Afterward,Beelzebub entertained you by showing you around as if he were taking you on a trip.

Of course,you were most excited and happy to walk through a main street with an extraordinarily handsome man-

Mc: (Ugh...Satan will be angry)

That was right. You were at the royal tower of Gehenna a few minutes ago.

(Pg changes to Gehenna halls)

While enjoying a cup of tea with Ppyong and Sitri,Sitri's tea was too strong and caused Ppyong to go into caffeine shock. So the two momentarily left you for a while.

Beelzebub: Shall we get moving?

Mc: Beelzebub?!

Beelzebub appeared from behind your back,slipped his hand behind your knee to scooped you up in a princess hug,and flew out through the window.

(Pg changes back to Abyssos streets)

As a result,here you were.

You werw casually enjoying your date with Beelzebub,as if you'd arrange it days before.

Mc: (Wait,why was he in Gehenna? I mean,since when was he nearby?! And how did we arrive in Abyssos so quickly?!)

You were full of questions,but you were too hectic. And whats more...

Mc: (It feels like Beelzebub can disappear anytime soon,so I don't want to waste time talking about trivial things)

Even if it was Beelzebub's strategy to make you think that, you were willing to be fooled.

Mc: (Because Beelzebub is so cool that I don't want to waste a single second even when he's right next to me...)

You furtively raised your head to look up at Beelzebub's side profile as he joyfully looked around his surroundings.

The man who was leaning against you so casually,that you almost felt regretful,was looking around with a faint smile of longing and affection in his eyes.

Mc: Come to think of it....the surrounding devils are quiet. I thought they would cause a fuss again with Beelzebub being here.

Mc: Don't tell me that you caused a spell or something?

Beelzebub: Well,what do you think?

Beelzebub chuckled instead of answering. A naughty man who never gave a serious answer. But this was as good as 'yes'.

Otherwise,it didn't make sense that they would not recognize Beelzebub when they were so close to each other, they were bumping shoulders.

Mc: Anyway,what happened? It's so sudden!

Beelzebub: Sniff* Sniff*

Mc: (I was an idiot for wanting an answer...)

Beelzebub buried his nose in the top of your head as though he didn't have time to answer.

Bewlzebub: There are about three places where you smell really strongly. One is here,another is in your armpits and the third is in your-

Speaking in joy,Beelzebub pretended to straighten up and whispered in your ear.

Beelzebub: And 'that' place which began to get wet as soon as I started sniffing you.

Mc:!!

You tightened your thighs before you knew it.

Beelzebub snickered and rubbed his cheek in your messy hair.

Beelzebub: I missed you. That's all.

Mc: !!!

Your heart thumped without resistence at the innocent confession,lightly delivered at the strange timing.

Strangely enough,you didn't feel like hiding the feelings in your heart.

Minhyeok's face momentarily flashed in your mind,but at the same time,another more honest emotion you had...

Mc: I missed you too.

Beelzebub: I thought you did. That's why I came here to see you.

The man's words had no weight,no modesty,but you thought it didn't matter.

Mc: (It's nice to hear)

With that honest emotion alone,you decided to enjoy this situation.

As though he had sensed your feelings,Beelzebub began to walk while pulling you closer to him and holding !ou more closely than before.

Just then,a sign poking out above the tall devils' head caught your eye.

Mc: Beelzebub,what kind of store is that? It has a drawing of a knife...is it a restaurant?

Beelzebub: Ahh,thats the store run by a devil who has the ability to change your gender.

Beelzebub: If you invest a few more seconds there,you can change !our gender right away.

Beelzebub: Its only available there,but it's a favorite spot for devils who want to swap positions with their lover.

Mc: T-That's amazing!

Beelzebub: Well,but it doesn't matter to you,right? All the devils here woudn't mind if you were a man or a woman.

Beelzebub said in a sing-song voice as thought the fact made him really happy.

Beelzebub: Ah,we're nearly there.

Mc: (You had a destination in mind?!)

You gasped in suprise and pointed at the nearest sign.

The sign had a drawing of a rope which looked like a noose.

Mc: Is that our destination?

Beelzebub: Ah,no. But shall we stop by there if you're intrested?

Mc: What do they have in there?

Beelzebub: It's a suicidal cafe. The customers can decide on the method of suicide.

Beelzebub: They can die by decapitation,dismemberment or drowning.

Mc: What?! Do they really die?!

Beelzebub: No,the owner of the store comes to save you just before you die,so you won't die for real.

Beelzebub: But it's just a place you go to feel that ectatic feeling of death.

Beelzebub: When you're really a second away from death,the owner uses his ability to restore you to your previous state.

Beelzebub: From what I heard,the owner is from Paradise Lost....He's a mysterious devil.

Mc: Is it alright for a devil from another country to do business here?

Beelzebub: Well,Bael will take care of that well,so - I don't really know about things like that.

Mc: (You're the king,but you don't know.)

Feeling trivially shocked,you sent words of comfort to Bael in your mind.

Just thwn Beelzebub came to a stop and so did you.

He had come to a stop infront of a bright red,steel door in the shape of a large arch.

Mc: Is this today's destination?

Beelzebub: No,this is a shelter.

Beelzebub: In human terms...a home in the woods? A bench in a large square in the center of a park? I don't know.

Mc: This flashy,prominent thing is a shelter?

Beelzebub: It should be flashy and prominent for you to notice and rest inside,shoudn't it?

Mc: Now that you say it,yea.

Persuaded by Beelzebub's reason,you opened the large door and entered with Beelzebub.

(Pg changes to the 'shelter' inside)

But you froze,your expectations of relaxing music or quiet room dashed as soon as you walked through the door.

Happy-looking Male devil: Ah...hnn!...

Happy-looking Female devil: Hn,hnn-hnngh...ah...ah!

Over the sticky,jazzy music,loud moans from around the spacious room overlapped,creating a cacophony that tickled your stomach.

In the reddish room,there was a plush couch that was obviously meant for relaxation, but it was covered in bodily fluids spilled by the devils everywhere...

And they were even conducting intercourse on the couch.

Mc: B-Beelzebub,I think we entered the wrong room...

Scratching your cheek in embarrassment,you pulled on thw hem of Beelzebub's clothes. He turned,then-

Beelzebub: Raise your arms. Say hooray!

Mc: Hooray?...

Beelzebub required it all too naturally,and you raised your arms without even doubting him.

Then the shirt you were wearing was pulled off the top of your head.

Mc: Huhhh?!!!

Startled,you raised your arms too late to cover your chest,

Beelzebub: How nice of you. Are you helping me?

Said Beelzebub,then casually threw his arms around you as if to embrace you,and immediately reached behind your back to unhook your bra.

Mc: Huhhhh?!

You made a stupid sound again,but you were already in Beelzebub's arms,stripped of your shirt and upper underwear.

Mc: W-Wait! I don't know what's going on now-

Beelzebub: We are going to take a break!

Beelzebub smiled as he hugged you.

You were about to experience a 'break' rhat you had never experienced before.

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb beelzebub #what in “hell” is bad?

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tryingtodotheright-thing · 3 months

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Hello, Sunset - 1

AN: So, the inspiration randomly came to me. I've never written with an unnamed character before and I haven't written fanfic since 2017. Bear with me and I appreciate all feedback. Not sure how long this is going to be but it will be multi-part.

Pairing: Seungcheol x fem!reader

Genre: exes to lovers, idol verse, angst

Word Count: 1733

Warnings: reader has anxiety and depression, swearing

Summer was coming to an end. This week was the season’s last gift; it was unusually warm, endless blue skies that you saw in paintings and sunsets that seemed to last all evening. Y/N had chosen to make the most of it, knowing this was her last moment to enjoy a little break in nature before life got busy again. She was always regretful when it got to the end of summer, wishing she’d spent more time outdoors, made the most of the good weather and just lived life a bit more fervently as she once used to. She didn’t quite know how to relax anymore. Even now, as she walked along the streets of London, she couldn’t quite slow down to a leisurely pace to admire the eclectic collection of shops that graced this particular street, hidden behind the famous streets of St James’s. Y/N called it being a Londoner, that you walked with purpose, always in a race to get to your next destination. Who had time to admire their surroundings when you had places to be? You definitely didn’t want to look like a tourist.

Y/N had arrived early, one for the books since there were train strikes this weekend and she’d had to get a taxi to Wimbledon so she could take the District Line. She now had 30 minutes to waste before she could head to the restaurant, knowing that her perpetually late best friend wouldn’t arrive till at least 15 minutes after the reservation time. The sun was burning this afternoon and she knew that continuing to walk around without finding a spot of shade would just make things worse. She was parched and she’d forgotten to grab the bottle of water she’d prepared in her rush to check her doors were locked as the taxi waited for her. There was no choice but to fork up a fiver for a very expensive bottle of water in order to survive the heat. Making a swift decision, she turned around to head back to the main road. Walking briskly to escape the glares of the blazing star at its peak, she swiftly walked into Itsu. The air-conditioning inside the store gave her instant relief and she basked in it as she selected a bottle of water. After paying at the self-checkout till, she immediately opened the bottle to take a big gulp of the cold drink. Her thirst satisfied, Y/N walked out of the store and back into the heat of the summer.

As she walked back towards the restaurant, Y/N tried to slow her steps, observing those around her. It was the summer bank holiday weekend, so it was the last hooray for many of the working population in the UK. There was a mix of tourists and locals: parents with their little ones for a family day out, young couples walking with their fingers intertwined and rowdy teenagers in denial of schools restarting the next week. Time passed so quickly. She could remember being a teenager like it was yesterday but here she was in her last year of 20s, so different from her younger self when she was at the cusp of adulthood. So much had happened, so much had changed and yet sometimes she still felt a little like the insecure young woman who didn’t quite know where she fit in the vast world. Whoever said that with age comes wisdom was telling the biggest lie on earth.

Lost in her thoughts, Y/N had arrived at the Japanese restaurant she was set to have her lunch at. The hostess greeted her and took her down the stairs and to the private room reserved. She looked around as she took her handbag off her shoulder and settled into her seat. The room was big enough to seat six people but it would be just Y/N and her friend, Rachel. She’d been at the restaurant exactly two years ago. That time, she’d been seated in the general restaurant then when Rachel had taken her out to celebrate Y/N’s new job. Y/N was no longer working at that company. In fact, Y/N had left the corporate world 15 months ago after suddenly landing in the spotlight. Speaking of said spotlight, the hostess had returned with chilled still water. She poured some water for Y/N before placing the bottle on a coaster. She hesitated to leave after Y/N thanked, struggling to decide whether to verbalise her thoughts or not. Taking a deep breath, she brought forward a framed picture.

“Sorry to ask but would you mind please signing this picture? We’d love to display this in the restaurant.”

Y/N smiled and reached for the pen and frame, quickly writing out a message and a signature that still seemed unfamiliar to her. Returning the items back to the hostess, Y/N reassured the hostess it was no problem and posed for a photo too. Picture taken, the hostess thanked her again profusely before closing the door behind her, leaving Y/N to silence.

Y/N sat back down in her chair and took her phone to check whether she had any messages from Rachel. Sure enough, there were three unread messages from Rachel. Yan Ya, called by all but her parents and grandparents as Rachel, was running late to no one’s surprise. Rachel was beautiful and graceful as her parents had hoped when they named her but her trouble with punctuality was a running joke between everyone who knew and loved her.

After texting Rachel back to reassure her that she’d only just arrived, Y/N scrolled through the other notifications on her phone, mostly notifications from her public Instagram account that she swiped to ignore. She came across a message from her manager that she had received about an hour ago, asking Y/N to call her. Y/N was immediately nervous about what Sian would have to say. The urgency and the cryptic instruction with no context also didn’t help. Biting the bullet, Y/N pressed the call button at the top of the screen. Sian picked up on the second ring and immediately said, “Are you alone?”

The nerves that filled her stomach had now tripled and she could almost hear the padams of her heart go faster.

“Yes, I’m in a private room at Ginza. What’s wrong?”

“Have you seen Twitter today? You’re trending right now.” Y/N could trace the panic hidden in Sian’s voice. “Dispatch posted a picture of you with him.”

Suddenly, Y/N could barely hear Sian as she continued talking. Her breaths were louder and she felt her anxiety soar as her throat dried up.

“I can’t tell when it was taken but it’s so obviously the two of you. HYBE has put out a statement already denying a relationship and saying it was just two friends meeting for a meal. But Dispatch has made another post saying they have more pictures to prove that you’re in a relationship.”

Y/N took the glass of water the hostess had kindly poured for her earlier and took a sip, her hand clutching the cold glass and trying to focus on the condensation that surrounded the glass and counting in her head as she took a deep breath.

“Y/N, we need to put out a statement before HYBE to steer the narrative and protect you. You need to cancel whatever plans you have and head to my office. I’m ordering a car to pick you up from Ginza. It should be there in 5 minutes.”

Receiving no reply, Sian called out, “Y/N, are you there? Y/N?”

“Hmmm?”

Hearing the rushed breath and the breaking voice, Sian immediately softened her voice. “Honey, we can get this under control. It won’t be bad like last time. Okay? Trust in me and the company to protect you.”

“I don’t want things to get worse!”

“It won’t, I promise. I’ve got you, okay? Take a deep breath for me, hun. That’s it. It’ll all be fine. We just need a plan, okay?”

Y/N meekly responded, nodding to no one as she tried to hold the tears back. The door behind her opened without a warning. Y/N flipped to find Rachel behind her with a bouquet of pink peonies. Rachel’s smile and cheery greeting grew to a stop as she noticed the crushed expression on Y/N’s face and the frazzled greetings from Sian as she tried to catch her attention again. Rushing into the room, Rachel wrapped one arm around Y/N and took Y/N’s phone from her tight clasp.

“Sian, it’s Rachel. I'm with Y/N. What’s going on?”

“Oh, thank God! Rachel, there isn’t much time to explain. There’s a car outside Ginza waiting; it’ll take you to my office. I’ll explain everything once you get here. Look after Y/N and make sure no one sees her or definitely no pictures in the state she’s in. I’ll call the restaurant right now to settle the bill.”

Rachel, understanding the urgency of the situation, ended the call with Sian and quickly gathered their belongings. Making sure she’d taken everything, she turned to Y/N, who was still in shock.

Rachel brushed Y/N’s hair away from her face and grasped her face to look at Rachel.

“Hey, whatever it is, we’ll get through it together. Where’s my strong, independent and resilient Y/N?”

“I don’t feel like any of those words right now.”

“No no no! We don’t do low confidence in this friendship when I know how amazing my friend is.” Y/N let out a shaken breath that was a mixture of laughter and tears.

Rachel quickly dabbed away the tears that fell and said, “Keep calm and carry on, as Mr Parry would say right?”

This time, Y/N smiled hearing the favourite saying of her old biology teacher. Feeling better, she rubbed her hands on her skirt and stood up.

“Right. Okay, let’s go.”

“That’s my girl!” Rachel cheered and looped her arm through Y/N’s. Pausing before the door, she turned to her left to look at her shorter friend and said, “And fuck anybody that tried to mess with you, especially one S.Coups!”

With that said, Rachel opened the door and led the way out of the restaurant.

#caratsland #seventeen au #seventeen x reader #seventeen fic #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt x reader #svt fanfic #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol angst #s.coups x reader #seventeen #seventeen x you #svt #my writing #hello sunset

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thetriumphantpanda · 11 months

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Ghost of You | J. Miller (Chapter 2)

Series Summary / Grief is a strange thing. In the beginning it had been all-consuming. There wasn’t a moment of the day where you didn’t cry, didn’t ask yourself why it couldn’t have been you instead. And no-one ever explains the guilt you feel when it isn’t anymore. When it’s just a dull ache and you can finally breathe again, when you can start letting people get close to you again. People like Joel Miller.

Pairing / Joel Miller x Widow F!Reader

Word Count / 3K

Warnings / Descriptions of grief and depression, soft!Joel (He needs his own warning I swear), slow burn but nothing else

Authors Note / I AM SO OVERWHELMED FOR THE LOVE FOR CHAPTER ONE. I'm so glad you guys have enjoyed it so far. This fic is incredibly personal to me. I've not lost a husband or a boyfriend (apart from a typical breakup) but over the recent years I've lost several family members so grief is close to me. I hope you enjoy chapter two - if you like it then comments, reblogs and asks are always helpful - thanks as always for your support of my writing.

Main Masterlist / Series Masterlist

The sun is only starting to colour the sky when you wake that morning. It’s already warm in your bedroom, sheets pushed to one side and that’s when you realise why you’ve woken. Leg draped over the mound of sheets, hand resting on the empty side of the bed, head rested on the pillow that isn’t yours. Because it feels like him. You roll over onto your back and drape your arm over your eyes, letting the pressure bring you back to the real world.

Once you were sure your breathing was somewhere close to normal, you push yourself off the bed and pad down the hallway to the bathroom. You turn on the shower, waiting for the water to warm up before you step under the spray. There’s something about this routine that helps ground you too. Counting the steps in your mind, ticking them off the to-do list. Shampoo hair. Done. Condition ends. Done. Scrub skin. Done. Brush teeth. Done.

By the time you’re setting the coffee to filter, you’ve already made it to sunrise, and you haven’t cried. It’s not healthy, and you know it, but this little competition with yourself helps, seeing how far you can make it through the day without thoughts so deep you have to pack yourself back to bed to try again tomorrow.

Sitting on the bench on the front porch, it’s still quiet. The only people milling about the street were the people heading out on patrol, swapping with those who were coming back. No-one paid you much mind, sitting by yourself, mug cradled in your hands, which was the way you preferred it. You sat there, watching the sky changing colour as the sun rose in earnest, until you could see Maria in the distance, walking towards you. You gave her a small wave, taking your mug inside before grabbing what you needed. Ration cards. Yes. Keys. Yes. Shopping bag. Yes.

“Good morning, honey.” She greets, kiss pressed to your cheek and arms pulling you into a hug.

You wish her a good morning whilst you wrap your arms around her. She’d been your strength this past year. Never pushing you more than she thought you could take, always there when you needed her shoulder to cry on. She’d fed you for the first few months when you couldn’t bear to cook yourself. She truly was the best friend you’d ever had.

You fell into a comfortable silence as you made your way to the market hall. At one point, you wouldn’t have let go of Maria’s arm, but now, you were happy to walk alongside her, hands shoved into the pockets of your jeans. They were small steps, but steps in the right direction none-the-less.

Halfway to the market hall, you could see Joel walking towards you from the other direction. Gun slung over his shoulder, he looks as though he’s just coming back from patrol.

“Good mornin’, ladies,” He greets, “Going anywhere nice?”

“Just to the market,” Maria replies, “Good patrol?”

“Uneventful, so I guess you could say so,” He turns to you now, “I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to come by and sort that table out for you, I’m off tomorrow, how about I swing by then?”

You smile and nod, “Of course, whenever is good for you.”

He bids you both goodbye, he’d been up all night patrolling the walls and was ready to collapse, and when you began walking again, you could feel Maria’s eyes on you and the slight smirk on her mouth. It wasn’t until you were picking up a bowl of tomatoes that she decided to press the subject.

“Joel making himself at home then?”

“He just fixed one of my steps is all,” You replied, refusing to meet her eyes, “And then I asked him to build the table and chairs I wanted, and he agreed.”

She pursed her lips and nodded, but the smirk was still across her lips, “I know what you’re thinking!” You exclaim, moving to walk down the aisle from her, she jogs to catch up, “It’s nothing Maria, and it’s shameful of you to suggest otherwise, it’s barely been a year.”

“I’m sorry,” She speaks softly, taking hold of your arm, “That was wrong of me, what I really meant was that it’s nice that you’re getting back out there, making friends, I didn’t mean to insinuate anything.”

“No, I’m sorry for snapping,” You sigh, raking a hand through your hair.

Maria presses a hand to your shoulder in comfort, “Let’s finish up here and get you home.”

You nod and spend the rest of your time in the market in silence. You pick up more fresh strawberries, along with the rest of your essentials. Maria helps you drop everything in your kitchen when you return and gives you another strong hug, “I’m sorry honey, about earlier, I didn’t mean for it to sound like I was assuming anything.”

“It’s honestly fine Maria,” You reassured, putting the flour and honey you’d bought in one of your cupboards, “I’m trying,” You sighed, “Just trying to get back to living, and he was nice to me, I’m not interested in anything else but it sure would be nice to have another friend.”

She nods in understanding, “You know, for the longest time I hated him,” She speaks quietly, “When I met Tommy, the stories he told me, the things they’d both done to get to where they were, I thought he was a terrible person, but the more time I’ve spent with him, I know deep down he has a good heart, I think he might be good for you,” She says, “As a friend, of course.” She adds finally.

She leaves you then and suddenly it feels empty in your home. It always does. There is no sound of warm laughter, no sound of another pair of boots on the wooden floor. It’s the quiet that really tightens your chest these days. You look to the stairs; it would be so easy to climb them and collapse into bed right now. Ignore your feelings for a while. Maybe fall into a dreamless sleep and just try again tomorrow. Your feet are almost carrying you before you stop yourself. Not today, you think. It’s not going to get the better of you today. Your eyes fall to the fresh box of strawberries on your counter and you’re moving before you realise what you’re doing.

An hour later, there’s a fresh strawberry pie cooling on the side. It was a frivolous use of your flour and butter ration, but the smell of the pastry reminds you of your mother. She always had some kind of fresh pie cooling on the side when you came home from school. Always served it with ice cream after dinner. Mark was always pragmatic with rations; he would have never let you use your feeble allowance on such a thing. You’d always used the flour for bread, butter was saved for making sandwiches, or spreading on the last slices on the weekend when you toasted it as a treat.

Looking at the pie, you know you should feel silly, but you don’t. You feel proud of yourself. You can almost hear Mark’s voice in your head, he’d call you a silly girl, but he wouldn’t mean it. He’d chastise you for wasting your resources, but with a smile on his face. And then he would gladly take the slice you offered him. He’d kiss you with sugary lips and wipe the flour from your cheeks. Doing something he wouldn’t approve of was good, surely? Moving on, in a tiny step, to making your own life.

There’s a feeling of guilt beneath you though, looking at the pie. You can’t bring yourself to cut a slice. Can’t bring yourself to feel the joy of the fruit in your mouth. How silly to think that one simple thing could fix you. You shake your head and leave it cooling on the side, curling into the couch, reading the same page of the same book you’ve had on the coffee table for months.

Joel knocks on your door at 11am the next morning. He’s alone again, toolbox in hand, letting you know that he’s given Ellie to Maria and Tommy for the day, something about teaching her to ride horses. You lead him through the house and out back, leaving him to set himself up for the day.

You make two cups of coffee, remembering he likes his black. You add a splash of milk to yours. The milk is so fresh from the cows on the farm that you must scoop a layer of cream off the top. You would normally scoop it off and eat it straight from the spoon, but there’s too much today, so you scoop it into a small glass, taking the mugs to the back porch where Joel is measuring up the wood. You set his mug down on the porch railing, taking your own in your hands as you sit down on the floor, back against the wall just to the left of the back door.

The sun is shining again, warming your arms. You lean your head back and close your eyes, taking in slow, deep breaths.

“You’re not gonna fall asleep on me, are you?”

You open your eyes and look at him without moving your head, “Depends how exciting your conversation is going to be today.” You tease.

He smiles and turns his attention back to sawing a piece of wood to size, “What did you do before all this?”

You scoff a little, “I was about to start my second year at college, seems like a huge waste of fucking time now, the inheritance money wasted on half a degree.”

“Well, that money would still be pretty useless now anyway,” He shrugs, “What did you study?”

You have to hand it to him, he’s not wrong, “Drama,” You laugh, “Thought I was going to be a big star, already had that Oscars acceptance speech written up here.” You tap one of your temples.

“Who were you going to thank?”

“My parents mainly, although they were already both gone by the time I’d started studying, all the usuals, my agent, the academy, everyone who ever told me I couldn’t do it.”

He chuckles, “You definitely had it all figured out.”

A comfortable silence falls between you as you finish up your coffee. The wood of the decking is hard on your back and you shift uncomfortably, moaning a little in pain when you sit further to one side than the other, your lower back aching slightly, “You know you don’t have to sit out here with me if it’s uncomfortable right?”

“I know,” You respond simply, “It’s just nice to have company.”

“You don’t have other friends here?” He asks, hammering some nails into a piece of wood.

You shake your head, “I guess I did when we first came here, but Mark was always the more likeable of us, people gravitated towards him and I guess when you spend a year wallowing in your own self-pity, people get pretty tired of telling you the same things over and over again in the hopes you’ll snap out of it.”

He nods, “When I lost Sarah, I remember the overwhelming feeling of pointlessness,” He’s not looking at you as he’s speaking, focusing his attention on what you think is becoming a chair, “She’d been my whole life for so long that I just didn’t know what the point was without here, especially in this new world,” You hum in agreement, “And the fact that the healing is never linear, you know?” You hum again, “It’s been twenty years and I still have days where it’s overwhelming, but they become few and far between – I’ll never forget her, but remembering her gets easier, and I bet it will for you as well.”

You lean your head back against the siding of your house, “You sound just like my therapist,” You point out, “She keeps telling me that I need to find something new to keep living for, but how do I do that was he was the only family I ever really had?”

Joel stops for a moment, picking up his mug of coffee to drain it, “Family is a strange old thing,” He finally speaks, “Sure, Tommy is my brother, but Maria? Ellie? I found them; you’ve just got to find your new family.”

“You’re a very wise man, Joel Miller.”

“I think I’ve just lived a longer life, sweet pea.”

The rest of the day continues in much the same way. Snippets of conversation, moments of silence, at one point you get up to water the plants as the midday sun makes way for the dip in temperature for the early afternoon. Joel is a fast but competent worker and as the sun is beginning to set, you have four new chairs dotted around the decking.

“You wanna test them out?” He asked, dropping the last of his tools into the box.

You nod, walking the one that’s closest to you, before gingerly setting yourself down on it as if it might collapse under you, “Come on, I’m a professional, have some faith in me.” Joel murmurs as he watches you slowly lower yourself onto it.

He’s right, it doesn’t collapse. The way he’s built them mean there’s a slight slant to the backrest, meaning you can lean your head back and fully relax when you sit. You can’t deny that he’s done a fantastic job.

“These are great Joel, thank you,” You say, standing back up, “Sit down, I’ve got something to say thank you.”

You disappear into the kitchen as Joel lowers himself onto one of the chairs. He can’t deny he’s done a good job either, maybe he’ll have to make something similar for him and Ellie. He’s already trying to figure out where he might find the wood for his own project when you’re back on the decking with two plates in your hand.

“Is that pie?” He asks as you hand him a plate.

“It is indeed,” You confirm, sitting in the chair next to him with your own plate, “I made it yesterday in an attempt to avoid going to bed at 12pm, you’re lucky that there was cream on the milk too.” You smile, pointing a finger to the sliver of cream you’d divided onto each slice.

“I can’t remember the last time I had anything like this,” He muses, sliding his fork through the end of his slice before eating it, “Jesus Christ, that’s good.”

You chuckle, doing the same to your slice. You had to admit it was pretty good for a rudimentary baking job, the fruit was sweet and you’d managed to make the pastry pretty well too, “I actually can’t remember the last time I had anything like this either,” You take another bite, “I was thinking yesterday as I was making it that Mark would have been cross that I’d used our butter and flour ration to make pastry.”

“I bet once he tried it though he would have forgiven you,” Joel replies, “No-one can be mad for long when it tastes this good.”

You smile to yourself and spend the rest of the time it takes to eat in silence. You sit for a while before Joel’s hand comes into view, he gently takes the plate from your hand and stands, “I better go and get Ellie, she’s probably driving Tommy and Maria up the wall with questions,” He chuckles, “Let me wash these first though.”

You follow him through to the kitchen and cut another slice of pie whilst he rinses the dishes, “Take this for Ellie,” You implore as he’s stood in your kitchen with his toolbox about to leave, “I bet she’s never had something like this.”

He takes the plate gratefully in his other hand, “Listen, I don’t want to step over a line, but I was wonderin’ if you maybe wanted to join me for a drink sometime?”

Almost immediately there’s a sense of panic rising in your throat as you imagine what he’s asking for in your mind. If he’s asking you to The Tipsy Bison, you can already feel the eyes boring into you and the whispers from everyone else. If he’s asking you to go to his place for a drink does that mean he’s asking you on a date? You wring your hands together in front of you and you can tell he can sense your internal battle.

“Just as a friend,” He reassures, “I hope you don’t mind but Tommy told me you don’t really like goin’ anywhere anymore, and well, I just don’t think it’s right, for you to feel like you have to stay here all the time, I promise I won’t let anythin’ bad happen to you, sweet pea.”

You think back to the conversation with your therapist from last week. She’d ask you what you’d done to challenge yourself recently and you had nothing to offer her. She’s suggested that you really did need to try to start ‘reintegrating’ yourself back into the community, or there would come a time where you simply couldn’t. She’d challenged you to try going to the market on your own one day without Maria, or to go for a walk through the town on your own, just one thing before you met her next that would push you out of your comfort zone and make you realise that you could do it.

“Okay,” You agree, “But if something bad does happen, you’re taking the blame, alright?”

“If I had a free hand, I would cross my heart,” He smiles, “How about tomorrow night?”

Tomorrow night. Not quite enough time to convince yourself it was a bad idea and hide yourself away. The sooner you went, the sooner it would be over, so you nod in agreement. Joel arranges to drop by at six and pick you up and then he was gone, and your house yet again felt as empty as always. It was getting dark outside, an acceptable time to call it a night and crawl into bed.

PREV / NEXT

#pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us #the last of us hbo #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #Joel Miller x you #Joel Miller x f!reader #GOY #Pedro Pascal #Joel Miller Pedro Pascal #The Last Of Us fic #The Last Of Us fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #Joel Miller fanfic #Joel Miller fanfiction

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bingbongsupremacy · 4 months

Text

Incognito AU

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader

Warnings: idk

The story doesn't mention anything about body size or type.

Summary: All you wanted was a cup of coffee from the new cafe on Main Street. You definitely didn't expect to spill coffee on the Metal Icon Eddie Munson.

*Not Proof Read*

ABC List Stranger Things Masterlist

*****

" You can go on break. "

Those are the best words I've heard all day.

A grin crawls onto my face as I make my way to the register to clock out. " Thank you! "

Steve gives me a small grunt in response, returning to his phone. Five bucks says he's on tindr.

He doesn't look up as I leave the store, little bells from above the door ringing to announce my departure.

Today's been rough. I've been screamed at by multiple angry babies and passive aggressively argued with by multiple middle aged women. Who knew working at a bakery involved so much anger.

I make my way down the street towards one of the newer shops. It was finally completed last week. I've been so excited to try the coffee. Robin says their drinks are amazing.

The street is busy, as it always is. I'm almost hit by a shiny black honda on my way across the street.

Impatient people.

I finally make it to the front of the store. A little sign with the words ' Coffee Central ' hang above the door. Everything is freshly painted and clean.

As soon as I open the door I'm met with the strong scent of coffee. The shop is pretty busy. People bustle around, their chatter creating a soft buzz in the air.

I get in line at the very back. After about eight minutes, it's finally my time to order.

" What can I get for you today? " The chirpy barista asks.

" Um..." I scan the menu board, looking for the perfect drink. " Can I get a...cappuccino please? "

I hand the girl my money and immediately another barista begins to work on it. After a few minutes the other barista produces a drink. " Have a great day! "

I turn around to leave when I immediately make contact with a firm chest. My drinks' lip pops open, spilling out of the container as a result.

The man jumps back slightly in surprise, coffee spreading across his Metallica band Tee.

" I'm so sorry! " I immediately reply. " Fuck, I had no idea you were there! " I turn to grab a few napkins from the counter behind me. I hand them to the man in front of me, my cheeks heating up from embarrassment.

The man accepts the napkins, beginning to dab his shirt. " It's alright, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going either. " He says with a small laugh.

I take a moment to observe the man. His eyes are covered by a pair of dark shades. A small dark curl hangs next to his face, the rest of his hair hidden by a black beanie. His chain rattles slightly when he steps towards the nearby trashcan to throw out the soaked napkins in his hand.

" I feel so bad. " I say, handing him some more napkins. " Is there anyway I can make it up? I can give you money for your shirt. " I gesture to his now coffee stained white tee.

The man looks up at me. " Look, if you really want to repay me...let me by you another coffee. "

This guy.

" W-what? " I ask in surprise.

" I caused you to spill your drink. If anything, I should be repaying you. "

I shake my head. " I ruined your shirt. "

" Please. " The mans' voice is sincere.

I bite my bottom lip. I was really looking forward to that drink. " Fine. " I sigh. " But I still feel bad. "

The man's face breaks out into a grin. " If you really want to repay me, just sit with me for a bit. i could use the company. "

" I can do that. "

----

" What's your favorite song of theirs? " The man asks, his attention completely on me.

" Master of Puppets of course. " I grin, taking a sip from my drink.

" No way. " The mans' voice is full of excitement. " Me too. I play it on the guitar at least once a day. "

" Really? That's awesome. I've always wanted to learn the guitar, I just never really got around to it. " I admit.

In front of the man is a notebook full of words and little drawings. His nearly dull pencil lays messily on top of it.

I glance down at my phone. " Oh shit. " I mutter. I look back up at the man. " I loved talking to you but I really have to get back to work. I'm actually supposed to be back now. My boss is going to kill me. " I hurry to gather up my stuff.

" Wait, " The man stands up with me. " Could I get your number? "

My heart begins to pound. He's asking for my number?

This is the first guy I've run into that actually likes the same shit as me. He's funny, he's sweet an an absolute gentleman.

What dream am I in and can I please stay here?

" Y-yeah! " I smile. " Here, I'll write it down for you. " I pull out a pen from my pocket. I gently write my number on his left hand. " There, now I really have to go. Bye...? " I just realized I didn't learn his name. "

" Eddie. " He answers.

" Goodbye Eddie. "

" Goodbye, coffee girl. " He teases.

I roll my eyes in amusement. " Ha ha. " With that I push past the glass door. I turn back to look in the window at the man I just saw. He finally pulls off his sunglasses, holding his phone up to his face. Face ID.

He turns slightly so he gets more light from the window and I finally recognize the face.

He's the man who's been on so many magazines lately. His band is having a concert in one of the cities nearby in two days. The man who put Hawkins Indiana on the map.

Eddie fucking Munson.

I don't have time to stand around. I continue walking back to my store. My pocket buzzes and I pull out my phone, fully expecting a text from Steve asking where I am.

Instead I'm met with a text from an unknown number.

' Hey, coffee girl. '

#fanfiction #fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson #stranger things x you #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanart #x chubby reader #x you #x y/n #x reader #x plus size reader #x fat reader #x thick reader

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nicoline1998enilocin · 8 months

Note

My idea is:

Tony and the reader were high school sweethearts, and they loved each other very much, but she went to college in another country, and they had to separate 😔 but they never stopped loving each other... a few years later, she returns to live in the United States and they bump into each other in a coffee shop or something, they recognize each other, have a coffee and a long talk together, the flame of love burns in their eyes and he asks her out on a date... they go out to dinner, spend the night together 😏 and promise never to separate again. A few more years showing them married and with children 🩷

I love your fluff and smut very much

Falling in love again

PAIRING | Tony Stark x Female!Reader

WORD COUNT | 2.2K

SUMMARY | You've been living abroad for almost a decade, and when you find yourself back in New York, you also find yourself in touch with the man you thought you had said goodbye to forever all those years ago. When the flame reignites, the two of you never let go again and finally live the life you have always dreamt of.

WARNING(S) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. Smut [ Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), creampie ]

A/N | Thank you so much sweet Nonnie, this request melted my heart, and I can't wait to hear what you think of it! I hope you enjoyed reading it, and if you ever have another request, don't hesitate to let me know 🖤

Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💚

Divider is made by @firefly-graphics | 18+ banner is made by yours truly

Main Masterlist | Tony Stark Masterlist

The sight of the city you grew up in is odd but, at the same time, so familiar. You're walking through the streets of New York again after being away for almost a decade to go to college in the UK. You are entirely in your element as tiny snowflakes start falling, and the city slowly starts to get coated in a white layer.

The first place you go to after not being here for so long is the place you love the most and have the most memories: the giant Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center. What you did not expect, however, is to run into someone who once upon a time meant more to you than anything in this universe.

You're standing in line at a hot chocolate cart so you can warm up a little bit since the snow is starting to pick up. You adjust your jacket and scarf slightly when you suddenly hear your name being called from a distance.

You don't need to look over to see who it is because you recognize that voice from anywhere, and you're delighted you get to hear it once more. ''Tony? Is it you?'' you ask, and a wide grin appears on your face as he approaches you.

''What are you doing back in New York? I thought we'd lost you forever to the charming people of the UK,'' Tony joked, and you couldn't help but feel like nothing had changed in all those years you have been gone.

''I just missed New York; it never quite felt like home, so I have officially moved back,'' you tell him, and then it's your turn to get your hot chocolate.

''Can I get two peppermint hot chocolates, please?'' you ask, and Tony smiles wide. Your heart skips a beat at the sight, and you realize you've never stopped loving the man next to you.

''Let me get them,'' Tony says and you agree. You give him a soft kiss on his cheek as a thank you, and you see the blush spreading across his face at the feeling, which confirms your suspicions.

''Come on, let's go somewhere we won't get snowed in,'' he offers, and you happily walk with him while bringing up old memories. Before you know it, you've ended up at your apartment building since you live near Rockefeller Centre.

''Did you want to come in to catch up? This is where I live,'' you say, and he does. Opening the door and leading him into your apartment feels like coming home for Tony.

''I still can't believe how it feels like coming home, even though I've never been here, and I haven't seen you in years,'' he chuckles, and you smile widely at his compliment.

''Well, having you here with me makes it a whole lot better, and the fact that it's Christmas finishes it all off for me,'' you tell him, and the Christmas joy is pretty much leaking out of your pores.

''Do you still drink the same tea as in high school?'' you ask, and Tony nods while giving you a smile that warms your insides through and through.

When the tea is made, you sit down next to Tony on the couch, and without thinking about it, he puts his hand on your thigh, just like all those years ago. Like nothing has ever changed.

The two of you talk for hours and hours on end, talking about everything you've missed out on over the years until it is finally time for Tony to go home.

''It was great to catch up with you, and I would love to see you again,'' he starts as he's at the door, and you nod.

''I'd love that too, Tony,'' you say as you stand on your tiptoes and kiss his cheek, and a thank you for everything, for not making your Christmas so lonely.

''How about dinner on New Year's Eve? Maybe we can even ring in the New Year together,'' he offers, and you see a glint of mischief in his eyes.

''Wouldn't have it any other way,'' you say, and with one last hug, he returns to his own house, and you're left with a rapidly beating heart, a lip that's almost raw from biting it to keep in your squeals, and an ache between your legs that only he can resolve.

It's New Year's Eve, and you're getting ready for dinner with Tony. He texted you to be prepared at 8 P.M., so that's exactly what you're going to do, and your outfit is already laid out, ready for you to wear.

You've taken a shower and slipped into a black lingerie set you chose to make Tony go crazy for. The two of you may have been in love for all those years, but your first time together will be exceptional in every single way.

Your makeup consists of a red smokey eye to compliment your dress and a nude lip to ensure you don't overpower the look. Your hair is put up in braids with a half-bun, letting the rest fall over your shoulders.

All that is left is slipping into your red velvet dress and putting on your black heels, which is perfect timing because Tony will soon take you to the restaurant.

He has always been punctual, and today is no different; at precisely 8 P.M., he knocks on your door. You open it with a big smile to see Tony standing in front of you in a black three-piece suit tailored to perfection.

Your breath hitches in your throat as you look him up and down, his hair styled in his usual messy hairstyle, but even with the suit, it looks like it belongs and doesn't look out of place.

''Hi, Gorgeous,'' Tony says as he takes you in, your long legs underneath a red dress, your makeup complimenting the dress, and your accessories matching each other perfectly.

''Hi,'' you say shyly at the nickname, and he holds his hand for you to join him. You take it, and you can't help but think about how warm his hand is, sending a shiver down your spine at the touch.

The drive to the restaurant is short despite all the traffic, and you arrive on time for your reservation. The hostess shows you to a table on the second floor, with perfect sight of the fireworks later that night.

You two picked up your conversation right where you left off, and over dinner, there was a lot of laughter, longing looks back and forth and touches here and there. When there were a few minutes left until midnight, he guided you to a balcony where you had an even better view of the fireworks.

He came to stand next to you while handing you a glass of champagne, and his hand found its place on your waist, sending a shiver down your spine.

''I can't believe we found each other again on Christmas day; I can't help but think it was a sign from the universe,'' you tell Tony as you turn to him.

''Hm-hmm, the timing couldn't have been better. Speaking of which, it is almost time to ring in the new year,'' he says, and your heartbeat quickens, and you feel your cheeks getting warmer with anticipation.

You hear people counting in the distance, but it is such a faint noise that it could never have been there. Tony's hand cups your cheek, and he brings your face to his, a dull roaring in your ears as you close your eyes, and he kisses you when the clock strikes midnight.

His soft pink lips capture yours in the sweetest, most sensual kiss the two of you have ever shared, and it seems to go on forever. When you pull away, you have a slight grin on your lips, unable to keep it from happening.

This kiss awakened a fire within you that never really went away, but while it had been a teeny flame for years, it was now a full-on fire that made your blood feel like lava.

''Please promise never to let me go again,'' you whisper as you look deep into Tony's eyes. he kisses you in response, which makes your knees buckle, and he has to hold you up.

''Everything okay there?'' he asks, and you try to laugh it off, but you know it's useless. Tony is well aware of what's happening and can't wait any longer.

''I need you, Tony,'' is all you say before he takes you to his house, and when you're there, the two of you don't waste time going to the bedroom. He has a perfect oversized couch, as you're getting very impatient.

He strips you out of your clothes in record time, and his own follows right after as he lays you down on the couch.

''Are you sure about this? Because after this, I'm never letting you go,'' Tony asks, the irises of his eyes almost completely taken over by his pupils out of pure lust.

''I'm sure, Tony. Please make me yours,'' you whine, and he does, not wasting any time. He lines his hard cock with your entrance before slowly pushing in, your back arching at the stretch as he slides home.

Moans leave both your lips, but as soon as his lips brush against yours, you attach them, drinking in each other's sounds when he is buried completely.

''Jesus, you feel so good wrapped around my cock,'' Tony groans out while your fingernails scratch his back to get some grip on what's happening. You feel your mind slowly slipping from you, Tony being the only thing you can think about.

''P-please,'' you whisper, and with that, Tony sets a slow pace, trying to make you feel as good as possible for as long as possible. He keeps hitting your sweet spot, and within no time, you feel your orgasm washing over you as your fingers have found your clit.

''F-fuck, Tony, make me cum,'' you pant; he does, as he picks up his pace, this time chasing his high.

''Gonna pump you so full you're gonna be leaking with my cum,'' he says, and after a few more pumps, he makes true to his promise. Long ropes of cum shoot into you, and not long after, you cum again, too, making his seed drip out of you.

''You look so good with my cum leaking out of you,'' Tony says before he uses his fingers to shove it back in, making sure it all stays in.

After that, Tony takes you to the bedroom, where you repeatedly make each other fall apart until the morning sun rises.

You get a few hours of sleep, and when you wake up, you're expected to find Tony, but instead, you're met with an empty side of the bed and the smell of breakfast in the kitchen.

As you get up, you grab one of Tony's shirts and a pair of his boxer briefs before walking to the kitchen and greeting the man you love more than anything in this universe.

''Good morning, Gorgeous,'' he says as you walk into the kitchen with your messy hair. You're glad you removed your makeup before falling asleep; otherwise, you would have been a mess.

When you're next to him, you wrap your arms around his waist, resting your head against his arm as he fries some eggs for breakfast.

''Thank you for everything,'' you say, and your heart is filled with joy now that you have the love of your life back.

''I should thank you for walking back into my life like you did,'' he says as he plants a soft kiss on your lips, leaving you smiling like a lovesick idiot.

''I love you,'' you whisper, closing your eyes as you rest your head again.

''I love you too,'' Tony responds before putting the egg on a plate.

''So, you hungry?'' he jokes, and you can't help but smile at his idiotic jokes, but you would not trade them for anything.

You're in the kitchen preparing some vegetables for the barbecue you and Tony are hosting for the Avengers, their other halves, and their children now that the two of you have bought a bigger house to accommodate the little ones growing inside you.

Tony is outside with the Avengers, and you look out the window; seeing how thrilled he is now makes you happy, too. You've finally gotten the life you have always dreamt of living together.

A few years ago, he proposed, and not even six months later, you were married, your first child on its way not long after. Now you're pregnant with kids 3 and 4, expecting twins.

''What are you dreaming about, Gorgeous?'' Tony asks as he walks into the kitchen, unable to be away from you for too long.

''You,'' is all you say before he pulls you in for a kiss. Your daughter Morgan and your son Jonas are playing in the garden with Clint's children, and all the Avengers are enjoying themselves.

''Life couldn't be any better if we've tried,'' he says, his hands finding their favorite place, your stomach.

''Life is perfect now,'' you say as you lean against him while looking outside. If you had known this would happen, you would have returned years ago instead of staying away for so long.

#tony stark #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark fanfic #tony stark one shot #tony stark request #tony stark imagine #tony stark x female reader #tony stark x reader #tony stark x y/n #tony stark angst #tony stark fluff #tony stark smut

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penvisions · 8 months

Text

return the favor {chapter 16}

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: It takes some adjustment for your little trio to get back onto the road. Supplies are the priority in wake of losing everything that had been gathered in Lincoln with the weather progressing into colder temperatures. Some rules are established.

Word Count: 6.4k

Warnings: racism, racial slurs, targeted words, description of injuries, mentions of past suicide attempt (fleeting), canon typical death, canon typical violence, canon typical gore, clickers, infected, small horde of them doin' the damn thing, brief illusion to child loss, mentions of loss of a loved one, arson, destruction of property, language, ellie isn't the one cussing every other word in this chapter, kissing, sexual content, teasing

A/N: this chapter contains sensitive content, i've taken real life interactions and put them here to help myself overcome them though they happened long ago and to help establish the character of reader a little bit more personality wise. i've also gotten zero notes or interaction on the last chapter so i'm thinking of taking a bit of a break with this fic, it's not what's in right now and its certainly not smutty enough to garner attention, so idk might continue to write it for myself and maybe post it when it's complete as a whole.

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist

The sunlight was warm on your skin, but you could tell that it was waning as the days continued to get shorter and shorter. Autumn was beginning to come to an end, you would need to get Joel and Ellie more layers. You were the only one with a fully loaded pack at this point and while you had enough of the emergency supplies all three of you might need warmer clothing as the weather got colder and inclement would be important.

You were seated outside of the motel or apartment complex, you were still unclear on the origins of the building you had all sought shelter in late last night. Just wanting to find a place to hunker down in after a hectic turn of events. A smushed cigarette was between your fingers, the nicotine helping to calm you after the rather…jarring events of earlier this morning.

You were gazing out into the horizon, eyes blurred as you realized the direction of where home once was. It was only a state away, the other only two. It was the closest you’d been since fleeing both of them and you felt the pull of a cabin deep in the woods that you had burnt down to prevent anyone else from being in the space, of it being taken advantage of. It would always be his place, your place. You hadn’t been able to stomach the thought of someone else stumbling upon it and being in your living room, in your kitchen, in his shop, his stables, in the garden you both cultivated, in the bedroom you both had shared. In the room that had a handmade crib and handmade blankets…

The sound of a shovel scraping was loud, breaking the chain of thoughts that were pulling you down into a place you would rather not be. Your eyes snapped back to focus and you looked out over across the wide street. There was an open field where Joel was standing, he was still now though, the shovel pushed into the give of the dirt he had just placed and leveled over two fresh graves. He was leaning on it, head bowed down as he stared at the freshly dug up earth that had been packed down carefully over two bodies of your companions.

Your finger burned where the forgotten, crude cigarette was resting. The tobacco and paper burned down low, and the ash had smarted against your skin. You quickly took the last drag of it and snubbed it out on the ground beside you.

His hair ruffled in the breeze that swept through the air. It was cold, bringing goosebumps up across your exposed skin. You pushed yourself up from the ground, dirt gritting underneath your boots as you carefully did so. Your left arm was held against your chest, a makeshift splint holding your arm straight aside from the curve of your elbow as it was held stationary by the sling you had placed it in. You felt lousy, a combination of the antibiotics you were adamant about keeping up with to stave off infection, hardly any sleep the previous night, the injury that was throbbing underneath fresh stitches, and the jarring events of the morning. Your arm was stinging around the stitches and on the underside where a deep scar ran. Though you were sure only one of the pains were real, the other a manifestation of your swirling emotions.

You crossed the distance, glancing back at the relative safety of the second room you and Joel had cleared for Ellie to lay down in. She had shaken and sobbed until Joel had carried her from the tainted space of the first room and laid her down atop a dusty bed with no words. One of his large hands had lingered along her arm, offering her comfort the only way he could muster up. But the bond between them that had been slowly developing had bloomed and you were sure he would look after from here on vehemently with purpose instead of obligation. You had sat with her for a moment, but she had quietly asked you to leave and you had respected her enough to do so.

“Joel.” You called out as you came up to him, good hand coming up to brush the slightly sweaty curls from his forehead. He didn’t shy away from your touch, something that made your stomach flutter. That he was allowing you to casually touch him was not lost on you. The bond you two were forming was a dangerous and heady one, it would need to be reigned in lest either of you lose yourselves in it and forfeit focus on the long road ahead. You sighed, shoulders pulling with the deep breath.

Your fingers traced a discolored scar, the same one Ellie had innocently asked after what seemed like so long ago. The reality was that it was only a fortnight ago, and you were all still so new to each other and the journey was just beginning on the outskirts of Boston. Previous lives, feelings, and memories all a mystery that sometimes begged to discovered. All a mystery that begged to be forgotten. But this one thing, you needed to know if you shared it with him. If your hearts were painted with the same shades.

He inclined his head to look down into your eyes and you hoped this wouldn’t scare him off.

“We’ve both been there...”

He sucked in a deep breath, his chest heaving with the action, though he didn’t break the connection of your gaze by looking away. His eyes filled with a swirl of complex emotions you knew were mirrored in your own. He removed one hand from the shovel and brought it up to brush the underside of your slung up arm, gentle. He knew the scar in the skin there as well as you knew the one along his temple. Self-inflicted.

“Yes, we have. But we’re here, right now.”

His hand moved to wrap around your ribs and tugged you into a loose embrace. You tipped your chin up in a silent request and he dipped down to place a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

The storefront looked decrepit, but at least none of the windows were broken. The sign had long fallen and was rusted on the walk that led up to the barricaded doors.

“If there’s any place to hunker down, an outdoors supply one is a pretty good move.” Joel mumbled behind you, watching as you took the machete from the strap on your pack. You swung the blade effortlessly, the sling seemingly not an issue as you did so, the motions fluid.

“Yeah, but a lot of people must’ve had the same thought. I’m surprised the windows are still up, that would mean whoever hunkered down in there…might still be there in one state or another.” It was a miracle that the building was a standalone. It was a larger one, one of the outer sides of it covered in what were once beautiful glass panels that were now coated in dust and grime. Through them you could spy the set up of wall climbing mounts and equipment.

“Good thing, you’re letting me clear it before we all go in there.”

“Nah, good thing we’re clearing it.”

You ignored the deadpan stare aimed in your direction.

Ellie was silent and waiting in a car relatively close by, her gun in her hand and left with instructions to stay where she was and shoot only if someone tried to come at her or grab her. You followed Joel’s lead to the side entrance to the building. A long-ago emergency exit that would allow for easier access into the building than the double doors of the entrance or back entrance.

The inside was a mess, low shelves all over the place, a few taller ones that must’ve held larger camping equipment at one point. There were piles of clothing left, though only the better-quality pieces were still salvageable. Moths and bugs having eaten away at the fabric make up of most of them that hadn’t been picked over and taken. You had your machete held up in front of you, ready to take out any threat that may be lurking in the large space. Joel was leading the way, his back broad and strong in front of you.

Eyes flitting around and then back to him every few seconds. It was going to take some adjustment to get used to using only one arm, for however long it took the bone in your other one to set and then heal. If you had to give a healthy guess, you estimated about two months. Traveling this way, things were bound to happen and the inability to fully rest it would affect the process. You were positive some conflict would further the process should you come into contact with anyone else or any Infected.

With the store room and the back room cleared, you made your way over to the bathrooms. It was a long shot that they contained one of those machines that dispensed tampons and pads for a few coins, an even longer shot that it was still stocked with anything. But you were in desperate need of something, if the cramps low in your abdomen and lower back were any indication.

You carefully opened the door to the bathroom, the door creaking slightly with the effort it took to unstick the hinges. Rust had collected on them and you were surprised they were mostly intact. The door however decided that little bit of movement after being stationary for so long was the last of its life and it crashed to the floor with a loud bang. The metal of the door sending a chill through your entire body and a weird taste to fill your mouth at the sound of the hinges groaning before shattering.

You turned to look over in Joel’s direction, the man across the entire store. The curls atop his head were barely visible as he crouched in wake of the sudden disturbance of silence. You raised your hand up, letting him know you were alright and he stood up from his crouch. You didn’t verbally say anything, either of you. Urging your body to stay completely still with baited breath as you waited to see if it prompted anything or anyone to come out from the back room or the bathroom you had exposed.

It remained silent, the echo of the door fading.

A thumbs up from both of you was shared and you began to make your way into room. You stopped in your tracks, a tall figure covered in sprouting cordyceps was just inside the bend into the space where the stalls were. Its back was to you, head aimed down as it breathed heavily, as if just having gotten jolted back into awareness. You took a few careful steps back, barely making it around the corner when it whirled around, quiet clicking beginning to fill your ears. It a panicked move, you turned a little too quickly and your boot scuffed the floor. The figure flung itself around the corner and you broke into a scramble.

The clicker gave chase way too quickly, your thighs burned with the effort to keep ahead of it. You were tearing around a tall aisle of shelves when you found Joel. He was across the large front room, gun still in his hand even as he knew it was clear. He was rummaging through something behind the front counter where the checkout used to be. His right side was the one exposed to the rest of the space. But as your fast footsteps echoed around the high ceilings, his head popped up and he watched with a grim expression as you tore through the space and toward him. When the clicker appeared behind you in a rage, his eyebrows rose into his hairline before he schooled his expression into one of focus and concentration. He was making his way along the enclosed space of the counter, trying to get to you.

Neither of you called out to the other, knowing it would be a rookie mistake. Foolish. Even as each other’s names were on the tip of your tongues.

Your hip caught on something that was jutting out from the shelf as you rounded it at too fast a pace and it clattered loudly to the floor, garnering the man’s heart to quicken painfully in his ribcage. You were trying to be as silent as possible, but a small, pained grunt had fallen from your lips at the contact. Pain was a deep feeling, reverberating down the entirety of your leg. It caused your steps to falter and you swore you saw Joel’s shoulders tense even more so, the gun held up but unable to get a good aim. The clatter of what looked like a canoe paddle was loud, propelling the clicker into faster motions.

You were silent as you approached him and he all but pulled you down behind the front counter alongside him. Your good hand reached out for him, gripping the sleeve of his jacket tight as he held a hand to the back of your head. You were pressed into him, face turned to track the movement of the grotesque thing as it slowed and began to make those terrifying noises trying to locate you.

Suddenly a figure popped up from a lower shelf and had a gun aimed at the clicker as it stalked through the store. You watched, nerves jumping in your legs from the sprint you had taken through the store, as the man’s gun jammed. The clicker quickly turned from where it was nearing your and Joel’s hiding spot and rushed toward the new target it zoned in on. The man cursed, tucking the gun back into a holster strapped to his left thigh. He reached behind his back to retrieve a long knife, holding it steady in front of him as the clicker hurled itself over the small shelf and at him. They both collided on the ground with a loud clatter, errant items falling from the shelf in the scuffle.

He was up and running almost as quickly as he had been taken down, the clicker struggling to break free of the blade holding one of its ankles to the ground where it had been staked clean through. Joel pulled you tighter into his front as the man moved as swiftly as he could through the maze of low shelves still around the open space of the store and banged out the door into back into the daylight.

With sounds of outrage, the shrieking that chilled you to your bones and made a sweat break out all along your skin, the clicker managed to tear itself free of the blade. The ripping sound of its flesh was sickening as it filled the once again quiet air inside the building. Your fingers gripped tight around the fabric of Joel’s sleeve, eyes taking in the figure of the infected as its head turned in a disturbing display as it gathered its bearings. The clicks and snarls bouncing off the walls and sending a wave of fight or flight preservation to course strongly though you. You tried to stay as still as possible, cradled in Joel’s arms as he did the very same.

There was a loud groaning metallic sound outside followed by a loud curse from the man who had fled and the clicker was barreling through the door that had been left partially open in the hasty escape with an ear splitting screech.

You and Joel were careful not to make any more noise as you both rose from your hiding spot. Fear and worry for Ellie careening into you both as you realized she would be exposed by any little sound. When the combination of a shout and tortured snarl spiked through the door, you were both running out of the building.

You were just in time to see the body of the clicker fall to the ground in a heap, a blade sticking out of the side of its head. The man who had found himself to be prey was crouched down alongside a building across the street. His back slid down the length of the wall until he collapsed on the ground, legs sprawled out in front of him. Your eyes took in the jutting bumper of an abandoned car decorated with fresh blood. He must’ve collided with it in his haste.

Ellie came around the corner of the building, up from the front where you had both told her to hide away. A frantic look about her as her gun shook in her hands and her hair swayed in its ponytail. Her eyes landed on you both, raking over you to make sure you were unharmed before she broke into a jog to close the distance.

“Who the fuck is that?”

“Don’t know, he was hiding in the building.”

Joel was approaching the man, boots making heavy thuds on the ground as he did so. The man’s head flew up from where he had been inspecting a cut in his jeans high on his leg. His hands flew up in the universal sign of surrender and blood was coated along his palms. You found yourself walking around Joel, holding your good hand up in a half greeting aimed at the guy. A disapproving grunt sounded from the man beside you and you spared a glance over your shoulder.

“No, no, it’s okay. He’s unarmed and he’s injured. I’m just going to offer some help, okay? At least let me offer, I feel like I have to.”

Joel didn’t seem like he was going to agree, but he nodded his head once in acquiescence. Hands holding his gun steady and trained on the downed man leaning on the side of the building. The tinted sunlight from the cloud coverage showing the damage done to the man’s leg. There was a dark, growing stain of blood along his upper thigh. His clothes may have been dirty, but they couldn’t hide the telltale signs of a serious injury. Your entire body was tense as you approached him, crossing the street and around the few cars that had long since been abandoned.

“I’m a trained EMT, I can help you. You need stitches for that cut, it’s deep. You’ll bleed out if you don’t close that up somehow.”

“Don’t touch me, spic.”

You stopped in your approach, the sudden rage and hissed insult of his words stinging deep. A gasp had bubbled up from your chest, taken completely off guard at the treatment. At the sheer audacity. When he repeated his words, you visibly flinched.

“What did you fuckin’ call her?” Joel was suddenly in front of you, his boots harsh on the flaking gravel and dirt of the dilapidated sidewalk. His finger was on the trigger as he stomped forward, shielding you from the man in case he had any other weapons.

“She’s a spic. I ain’t lettin’ her touch me.”

“Okay, wow, uh-fuck you.” You spoke loudly, anger quickly came over you and forked your tongue. “I know I took an oath, but yeah, no, you aren’t gettin’ any help from me. You’ll be dead within the hour and it’s all thanks to your ‘good ole boys’ shtick.”

“Talkin’ to me like you’re better ‘n me.”

“That’s because I am, you racist old fuck.”

“You’re nothin’ but a stain. How dare you talk to me like that.”

“Die mad about it.” You turned your back on the injured man and grasped one of Ellie’s hands with your good one to lead her away from the pathetic excuse of a man. It didn’t matter that he had tried to take out the clicker and was successful. It didn’t matter that he had been a distraction for it, allowing you and Joel to remain hidden and unharmed. It didn’t matter that the man had obviously torn into his leg so deep in his getaway that he had nicked the artery in his leg. It didn’t matter that he was bleeding out.

You had had little patience for racism ever since you knew what it was. You had been ignorant of its existence until you were six or seven, when you found yourself a target of it.

The kids in your class told you that you were dirty and needed a bath when faced with the natural faint tan of your skin in comparison to their fair complexion. Your mother had been furious, your grandmother had been furious. They had shouted at the parents of the kids until you were told you could no longer attend the school, expelled for fighting when you hadn’t done a damn thing. The news had spread around your small, Southern town and soon you hadn’t been able to enter any of the stores. Keepers worried you’d steal items from the shelf when they weren’t paying attention.

That’s when your mother had decided to sign custody over to your father, allowing you to grow up in California in a community that was made up of more open-minded people. She had taken a few years to help your grandmother sell their home in the backwater town and they both moved closer to you, closer to the West coast.

As a trained EMT, all throughout your coursework and credential certifications, you were told that the administration of medical aid was the top priority. It didn’t matter what the person did, who the person was, how the person talked, if they needed help you were to give it to them. But that was always easier said than done. You weren’t immune to the slurs aimed at you and you certainly weren’t now. But now, as rare as it was to have medical knowledge and medical supplies, you could pick and choose who to help.

And that man would not be someone you were going to help.

You were just nearing the door again when you heard a muffled shout and the squelching of a blade imbedding itself into flesh. After a few beats of your quickened heart, the heavy footfalls of Joel’s boots could be heard crossing the street to catch up with you both.

“What did that man mean when he said ‘your kind’?” Ellie innocently asked, confused as to why the encounter was so hostile for seemingly no reason. “What was he calling you, a-a whatever it was. It was bad?”

“Because a long time ago, some people put a lot of worth on where someone was from. Different countries and where within those countries. Prejudice was a widespread disease in the minds of those types of people, they looked down on others if they had different skin tones and spoke different languages.” You sighed as you tried to shove the interaction down, focusing on the goal of getting Ellie supplies. “And what he called me was a slur. That specific one is aimed at people from a country that was south of where we are. Where my family is from. A play on broken English as an insult. Don’t ever repeat that word, Ellie. I don’t care if you don’t know anything about it, don’t fucking repeat that word. You hear me?”

You pinned her with a serious look, no room for anything but agreement. She nodded, eyes wide and her brows were hidden up in her messy hairline. She took in how tense you were, your shoulders bunched up as you stalked across the storefront in search of something. She was standing by the door still, waiting for Joel to walk through it. She seemed unable to relax even marginally if you both weren’t in her sights.

Rummaging had taken hours, you wanted to scour through everything so as to not miss anything you may need. Ellie had done well, finding a locker that had been stuffed with two basic first aid kits, a lot of jerky and power bars, a pack of matched, and some camping blankets similar to the ones you used to use. You laid them out on the floor to make it easier to sleep once Joel had announced he wanted to sleep there in the safety of the cleared building. One for Ellie to put your sleeping bag over so she could try and get some decent sleep.

You had a new underlayer, something that was slightly thermal, the one you had been carrying around needing to be replaced with how thin it had become, it was no better than a regular cotton shirt at keeping you warm at this point. Ellie had a hoodie she could use to layer as the weather progressed. Joel had a new flannel to swap out should he need to, the pack Henry had containing clothing that the older man couldn’t fit into. You kept some of it for Ellie as well as yourself.

You were spacing out atop your own blanket, the one that was already in your pack. Your back was up against the wall and the lantern wasn’t turned on, but it was beside you. You would need to set it hang from someone’s pack tomorrow in order to solar charge. It was one of those compression blankets you could fold down and squeeze into a smart pack, but you typically kept it inside your sleeping bag and rolled them up together to snap onto the bottom of your pack. The memory of Ellie placing down the pack that had once been Henry’s at Joel’s feet as she approached the burial site earlier that morning. The writing pad that had been Sam’s in her hands and she laid it atop his final resting place. ‘I’m sorry’ carefully written out had hurt, it still hurt. It would for a while.

Ellie had decided to sleep by the lockers, while you and Joel were closer to the door. The back door was already barricaded, probably had been since Outbreak day. It looked like a pretty good set up so no one had any arguments when it came to leaving it as such.

Joel was closest to the door, you in a small walkway space that led to the line of lockers that made up an open cubicle. You had eyes on them both. Joel was laying down though you knew he wasn’t sleeping, he was shifting too much atop his own blanket. The fabric hushing every so often as he shimmied and tensed. You wanted to go over to him and lay beside him, but you refrained. Today had been long, everyone needed space. Needed to be alone but in the same space.

You were trying to keep your sniffles silent, the tears rolling down your cheeks despite your efforts to stop them. The man from earlier had really gotten to you, his words digging in deep and attaching themselves to your psyche. It was stupid, it truly was. The world had ended and to be human was hard enough, it was deadly, but that man’s words had made you feel anything but. You hadn’t felt like this in decades, diminished down to the tone of your skin and the basis of your family origins in such a negative way.

Eyes clenched shut, you brought your good hand up to wipe your face. When you opened them back up you felt eyes on you. Joel was watching you from where he was turned on his side. You couldn’t quite make out the expression on his face, but his eyes were trained on you.

You just shook your head slightly, letting him know you were okay, mostly. That you had it under control as best you could. You shuffled down to lay with your back to him, facing the wall you had been sitting up against. You felt his gaze trained on you until a restless sleep overtook you.

“So like, it was flour and stuff that allowed cordyceps to spread. Or so you told me, as far as you both know. What did you guys eat since obviously it didn’t get you like that?”

“Oh, um, I ate a lot of rice. Different grain, different processing. Was big on pastries and stuff but like, we made all our own stuff where I worked. If I had bread, or anything with flour, it was made literally in front of me.”

“And what about you?”

“…Atkins.” Was all the man said, his steps suddenly taking him a further ahead.

“Ah, yes, of course. I know exactly what that means.” Ellie snorted, voice mock serious as she rolled her eyes. She mimicked the timbre and accent of his voice as she repeated the word, puffing out her chest and bringing her shoulders up.

He didn’t turn around to pin her with an exasperated look, he kept his focus on leading the way along a road that sort of ran parallel to a major highway but was protected by the coverage of the trees a few miles north of it. Only one map was found, something you had desperately needed to replace after the ones in Joel’s possession had been left in the truck. He had it in his hands as he kept an eye on your path.

Ellie sidled up a little closer to your heels. Her pack was laden down with everything she may need, for her one person. While you and Joel carried the bulk of whatever else was deemed important for all of you. She had been adamant she could share the weight but you had told her she was young and didn’t need to worry about either of you when it came to stuff like that. You both had so many years on her, in general, and in experience with what the world came to be.

“As far as I know, cause I didn’t really bother with specific diets or anything back when. Atkins was a low calorie, low carb diet. So no bread, or anything actually good, I’m guessing.” You chuckled as you pictured Joel sitting at a dinner table with a smoothie and a salad. Somehow it didn’t feel right. Surely he was a protein guy, had to be. He looked sturdy even now in his older age. Cords of muscle obvious in his arms and thighs, his core was still strong underneath the softness of age and time. He had to have done something physical in the time of Before. Something that would be demanding of his body, leaving him starving at the end of every day.

“Was bread good?”

“Oh yeah, it was amazing. I loved bread, I really miss it. And bacon. And eggs. God, what I would do for a breakfast sandwich right now.”

“You’re so weird.” Ellie laughed as she watched the way your expression morphed into a pout.

“You’re weird, you little gremlin.” You shot back, nudging her hip with your own as she came up beside you.

It was all harmless jousting, she was trying to keep up small conversations but she was nowhere near as talkative and outwardly inquisitive as she had been days before. The events of Kansas City sobering her somewhat. But she wasn’t closed off completely, and that was what mattered. That she was still mostly herself, even if a bit subdued. It would take time to get used to the weight of what had happened, of what she now carried within herself.

Joel had decided to travel a few hours northwest. He was trying to find a good distance away from the city limits that still intersected the river you had caught glimpses of on the map. A wash sounded good, to all of you. It had been a bit of a challenge to get Ellie to leave the building. She had wandered over to the bright side of the store where the rock climbing set up was.

She had gazed up at the top of the wall and her eyes tracked each tack and step, as if mentally making the path up there. You knew she wanted to try it for real, but the ropes had been left too long without chalk and oil, the tacks and steps left too long without being checked or maintained, the harnesses were fraying and wouldn’t do much good to help support her. You wanted her to have experiences that were good, that were normal. But this one would have to be something passed up.

She had torn a poster depicting someone mid climb, saddled with gear and a helmet, a wide smile on their face. You stashed some sticks of chalk in each of your packs with the notion that it was ‘for communication emergencies’. Any human form of communication was tainted these days, a salvation as much as a damnation. It all depended on who saw it, on who interpreted it, on who followed it. But you all agreed that a simple dash (-) would signal being close to a hidden spot lest you get separated. You also suggested that if anyone where to get separated within a city or town, that the rendezvous place would be a bookstore. You figured most people wouldn’t bother with searching for such a place and it would be relatively safe.

The stream was cool. The water wasn’t crystal clear, but it was enough so that you felt comfortable bathing completely in it. You needed it. The water flowed downstream around you at a light pace as you floated there. The sky above you was dull, a layer of cloud cover hiding the sun. Your skin prickled, the combination of the water and warm, moody sky chilling you slightly. Your good arm was up above the water, laid atop your middle. It wouldn’t hurt to clean it and the water looked pretty clean itself, but you were hesitant to submerge it completely.

Ellie was off a bit upstream, on the other side of a rock that cropped up to peak above the water’s surface. Joel was on watch, just on the outskirts of the trees that surrounded the area. He kept glancing at you as you took your time to just feel the water on your skin. He was seated on a boulder, gun in his hand though he wasn’t on full alert. He seemed rather tired, sleep had seemed to evade him as it had done with you last night.

“Joel?” You called, shifting to stand in the stream. The water was up to your ribs, but you allowed your body to stay submerged. “Can you help me to dry off?”

“No.” The word was in complete opposition of his actions as he stood with a slight groan at the creaking of his body and made his way over to the edge of the water.

“No?” You stood up completely, allowing for your upper half to be seen. The water glistened on your clean skin. Rivulets of it ran down from the tips of your loose hair and down your body. The man in front of you watched as they caressed your skin in the exact way he wanted to, down your chest and dipping below the surface of the water.

“Can’t.” He reiterated.

“Can’t?”

“She’s right over there,” He averted his eyes as he felt himself begin to harden in his jeans. “She don’t need to hear or see what it would turn into if I were to put my hands on you.”

“Oh.”

Arousal flared in your middle, and you felt yourself get slick at the implications of him wanting to touch you in a not so innocent way. The coldness of the water was jarring on your suddenly heated skin.

“But-“

“Can’t.” He said as he moved a hand to push his palm against his front. The action only seemed to rile him up more, the friction of his hand fueling the swell of himself instead of heeding it. The words seemed to be a struggle for him, they came out on a harsh exhale. “Darlin’, I really can’t.”

You didn’t say anything as you brought your good hand up out of the water and traced it over the fullness of one of your breasts, teasing the skin in a featherlight touch. His eyes trained the movement as you shifted your fingers to brush over the nipple. Your lip between your teeth as you watched the beautiful brown of his eyes disappear as it was overtaken by the darkness of his pupils. His bottom lip was plush and begging to be nipped at as his mouth parted in awe of watching you boldly touch yourself out in the open. As you touched yourself for him.

Your hand pinched and rolled the already perked nipple before moving to the other and doing the same.

The veins on the back of his hand flexed as he pressed his palm down harder against himself.

You notched your head up to meet his eyes as you snaked your hand down below the surface of the water. Fingers grazed your folds, slipping into them and gently stroking. Fingertips brushed that wonderful little bundle of nerves, and a low whine left your mouth before you could think better of it.

That proved to be too much for the man as he was suddenly turning around and disappeared beyond the tree line. You huffed a shaky laugh as you ducked back down into the water. You ignored the tingling of your skin in favor of washing off one more time, unsure of when you would get to do so next.

You and Ellie had just finished getting dressed and set when Joel emerged from within the trees. There was slight curl to the hair at the back of his neck, sweat shining on the skin there. His neck was tinged pink where his flannel was unbuttoned and showed the stretched-out collar of his undershirt. You smirked to yourself as you realized he had run off to take care of himself. He cut his eyes at you in a warning as he picked his pack back up and shouldered it.

And with that, your little trio left the state of Missouri.

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beautiful dividers by the lovely @saradika

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phoenixcatch7 · 6 months

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Season of revival has started today! I've avoided spoilers for the most part, but I have kept up to date with the beta, so here's what I think so far:

The scenery and setting is phenomenal. I managed to avoid pretty much every spoiler for the new season area, the aviary, so I got to experience it first hand, and can I just say STUNNING??? The amount of clouds they've put everywhere is so atmospheric, in both senses of the word XD. It feels like a ghost town, with the dim fog in the streets and all the nooks and crannies. The light spilling from the windows of the barber and the mannequin shop look so cozy and inviting ^^.

The depiction of it all, too, is awesome! The steward is so well animated, with no face or fingers (or shoulders, really) they managed to convey a quiet and resigned devastation, seeing his once beautiful aviary now empty and desolate.

The rhythm guide was a delightful surprise! Now it seems they've decided to take up hair dressing??? I mean... Follow your dreams, but it's a bit of a weird choice of profession for a travelling troupe master. Maybe their parents were hair dressers? It'd certainly explain the styles the rhythm troupe has lol, especially the famous owl hair that remains one of the most coveted in the game XD!

I always love good depictions of the mountain, and the aviary frames it perfectly no matter which area you're in.

And the lore implications!! I know nor care nothing for the war, or elder names, or the king, but I love digging up tidbits all the same. It looks like the aviary was the original main gathering place of the kingdom of the sky, and yes, I know it was the pre release Home before we got the current one, but it just feels... Like a home? Like the Shire from lotr ^^. I can't wait to see what that huge tower is for!

In terms of emotes, or cosmetics, though...

They aren't very good. There's staggeringly few this season. Literally all the good items are behind the pay wall this time, which is a shame because usually tgc leave at least one really good item for in game currency! There's about two items per mannequin - and it is mannequins, not even actual spirits!!

The hair bow is so pretty, not quite to my personal liking but it's going to be so very wanted lol. There's one cape I really wanted, the orange one with tassels, but you bet its behind the season pass. And the long boots? Please, I love long boots, why must you do this T-T. The short boots just don't have the same energy. The purple cape, one that feels related to rhythm (?)... It looks flat to the point of feeling unfinished. It doesn't look fully rendered. We know tgc has been capable of much better fur for a long time now, heck the towels from days of sunlight are amazing, and the straight lines on the cape make it look like it's just made of polygons lol. There's no texture on any of it.

There's no new props or instruments to my knowledge. There's been no beta video, no youtuber showcase of either I could find. Could we not at least have some maracas or something?? I'd love a new instrument! A triangle? A rain maker? Cymbals?? A KAZOO???

It's very obvious where tgc spent their effort and time, but seriously, I can't be mad. This season seems to be, either on purpose or not, a response to a lot of players, especially older ones, getting so easily burnt out by the amount of back to back time limited yada yada get it while you can content. Seriously, I think the last season ended just last week, and only because it's a Monday today! And both during the second half of the last season and during the gap between the two, we've had two days events. TWO. there hasn't been a day where there's been a a chance for a breather for over a month. It's back to back to back! Heck, I got burned out a year ago, and it sucked!

This season might be the breather we need.

There's a beautiful and open area to explore, filled with interesting nooks and crannies and places to have pretty photo shoots or make silly or aesthetic videos or maybe even a picnic. There's what look to be secondary realm portals through a tunnel (oh, and there's a defunct map stone too, if you're looking), including an eden gate! That seems to be the only one still active, you can hear it if you get close enough. The implications....

Despite the decent cosmetics being behind the pass, there's nothing I want nearly enough to shell out for, not that I've done it before. But I'm at least usually very tempted! There's really... Very little this season brings to the table outside of the new area it gives us straight up, but I think this is good. I think this is a chance for people to catch their breath, to not have to allot time to candle running and quests, to make sure they maximise every day on sky to get all the cosmetics. I think it's okay if you don't want to get them all this time.

Though we don't know if it's even possible they'll come back as travelling spirits, it's likely the currency will change from seasonal to candles or hearts once it's over. Probable, even.

I can't wait to see the aviary once we've brought it back to life, but I do hope there's a way we can slip back in time to relax in the quiet, misty, still area we have now. It's just beautiful.

#sky children of the light #Sky cotl #thatskygame #skyblr #that sky game #that game company #thatgamecompany #season of revival #Sky cotl seasons #skycotl

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snowbellewells · 8 months

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CSSNS23 MC "Carolina Moon" {Chapter One}

Oh goodness, it's nearing the end of Friday, but I've managed to make my weekly deadline. Here's the first full chapter of my @cssns23 fic after last week's prologue, and I hope those of you who have started this journey with me will enjoy the new addition.

Thanks once again to @eastwesthomeisbest for the gorgeous cover art!! (She's actually created a second one for me, but I'm waiting until a little later in the story to unveil it, so keep your eyes peeled for that!) And thanks too for @xarandomdreamx who was a wonder beta help with some details and questions I had and typos I'd made.

This story is also available on AO3 HERE

Summary: Emma Swan has returned to the town she grew up in, and the past that has haunted her no matter where she has run. She seeks answers and peace at last. Despite the years that have passed, some things haven't changed very much in Storybrooke, South Carolina, and one of those things is Killian Jones. He never forgot the gangly girl with the world on her shoulders and pain in her eyes, but will he finally be able to slip past her defenses and help her find the answers she seeks?

Chapter One: Old Friends and Old Scars

As Emma Swan rolled slowly onto the main street of Storybrooke, a strange sense of warmly comforting deja vu enveloped her. Though more than a bit of relief to the nervous tremors which had been shivering through her limbs and turning her fingers white where she clutched the steering wheel, it also surprised her. So much pain and so many awful memories resided here, and she’d intended to shed them permanently when she left this place behind her. Sure, she had returned of her own free will, but it was reluctant at best; she had no one and nowhere else to go.

The moment she’d turned 18, the very second she could escape from the living nightmare she had borne, and which continued to follow her, Emma had left Storybrooke in the hot summer dust rolling behind the wheels of the first bus out of town she could afford. No one had ever fully believed she wasn’t to blame - at least in part - for the shocking crime that had rocked the small, sleepy community that summer when they were 13. Nevermind if Emma often felt it had broken her as much as anyone, or if it made no sense for her to destroy the one relationship that had bolstered her constantly and provided the only safe haven she had ever known; once people believed a thing, it was hard to convince them otherwise. Her foster father had certainly assumed her guilt. Claiming she shamed him and cost him business from townsfolk who blamed her strangeness on her “raising”, he’d beaten her bloody for that and countless other faults, enough that the skin of her back bore permanent scars. She’d barely graduated high school when she could bear it no longer; deciding she would rather go hungry and sleep on the streets if she had to than to take any more abuse, she had finally seen her chance and flown.

If it hadn’t been for Rose - for their giggled secrets at their swimming hole hideout and the sleepovers in Rose’s pretty floral and ruffled room with a bookcase on each wall and their shelves still overflowing and spilling onto the floor - she would have never found a moment’s peace or been able to close her eyes to sleep for even one night here and there. Rose had been everything a best friend should be: steady, loyal, wickedly funny and smart, but with a kind heart able to see the best in a person, even to her own fault. Just as the thought had plagued her back then, Emma couldn’t help thinking even now as she pulled into a parking space outside the empty shop front she had rented, ‘Too bad in the end that trusting nature, that desire to help, was what probably got her –’

Thump, thump. Startling with a jerk after barely turning off the keys in the ignition, she’d been so lost in years past and her reminiscence of those sweet brown eyes that had always only ever seen her as she’d hoped to be - as family - Emma swung over to look out the passenger window and found possibly the only other face in the world that might be glad to see her; a beaming, grown-up and adorably pleased Graham Humbert waved at her enthusiastically through the glass. Shaking her head, Emma gathered her simple, small purse, keys, and phone, as she slid out of her vehicle, slamming the door behind her, and greeted him with a hug that warmed her to her bones, despite how she usually avoided physical contact.

Her smile was somewhat chagrined and tentative as she offered an awkward little shrug with her soft, “Hey there, Stranger,” upon pulling back from the embrace.

Her former foster brother was having none of it; in two long strides, he’d pulled her to the sidewalk before a second tight bear hug nearly lifted her off her feet. “Stranger is right!” he exclaimed, squeezing her affectionately before stepping back to hold her at arm’s length, eyes sparkling with humor as he took her in, much as she was doing with him. Clearly he wasn’t going to let the fact that she had vanished for nearly two decades, failed to keep in touch, and then only looked him up when she needed a favor, stand in the way of their former bond. “Look at you, Emma! It’s so good to see you!”

Objectively, Emma knew his warm welcome was probably more than she deserved. And, while she was being objective, as she took Graham in quickly from head to toe, she could also see that most women would be melting into a puddle at his feet with the way the gawky 14-year-old she remembered had changed. Though hardly musclebound, she could feel the wiry strength in his long, lean build as he held her upper arms in his hands. His honey-colored curls were as tousled and riotous as ever, but it worked for him in a much less innocent way now that it matched a perfectly trimmed scruff over an attractively chiseled jawline. And those large, guileless eyes of his were still twin pools a person could willingly drown in. She was actually quite thankful suddenly that he still felt more like a brother to her; that sort of entanglement was the last kind of trouble she needed. She had more than enough problems already, and had probably only invited more by returning to Storybrooke after successfully making a clean break.

Despite all that though, his welcome and happiness to see her were contagious, and she could feel the wider, more genuine smile stretching her own lips pleasantly. For all her reservations and worry about coming back, it felt good to see a friendly face, to know that someone was glad to see her. It had been much too long since she’d felt that sort of appreciation and understanding, even from those she spoke to and worked with every day. Boston was too large and bustling a city, and she was too much of a no-nonsense loner for her to have made anything more than a few work acquaintances. She’d been a great asset for the detetives she’d worked with, but as soon as she had made a mistake… That poor little boy’s pale, cold face flashed into her mind for an instant, before she jerked back to the present with a gasp, but it was enough to make her fail at passing it off as playful surprise when Graham looked at her curiously.

“Alright there?” he asked, as astute as ever. He dipped his head slightly to be more eye-to-eye with her despite his height advantage and attempted to search her face. He had always read her better than she was really comfortable with, but Emma was grown now, a professional, and well-practiced at her poker face, much better at pulling the shutter down over welling emotions than she’d been as a teen. Not to mention that after the betrayal she’d suffered from the man she had partnered with in Boston, it was much harder for anyone to read the emotions she chose not to display. Going into a bullpen full of people who saw her as a fake, a failure, or a liability, while the person who had benefited most from her insight and success so many times before had laid all the blame at her feet and turned away, had finally taught her for good how to shield against any and all who might get too close, and to wear the facade that showed she couldn’t even be bothered to care.

Giving a little scoff, she pasted on a teasing smile and replied, “Oh yeah, fine,” as she waved a hand dismissively. “Just a little scattered from driving for so long - and glad to see you again. I am surprised you’re still a single small town vet though. Look at you, Hunter! You ought to be on The Bachelor or something, or one of those hunky men with animals calendars. How do you not have a gaggle of ladies trailing along behind you, or a ring on that finger yet?”

As expected, her soft-spoken friend blushed to the roots of his hair, coloring his cheeks even under his dark stubble and spreading down his neck into his collar. It took the focus off her as she had hoped, diverting his concern and curiosity. “Hardly,” he mumbled, shaking his head and avoiding her gaze. In fact, Emma almost felt badly for deflecting. Had she touched a true nerve of insecurity? Could Graham really be unaware of the catch he had grown into since she’d seen him last? Or was he interested in someone in particular who had made him doubt himself? Or not returned his interest? She forcibly closed off the probing train of thought before her added sight began to pick up things Graham didn’t intend to show her. The physical contact along with his gentle, open warmth would have made it all too easy, even if accidental.

Emma couldn’t really imagine too many available young ladies who wouldn’t jump at the chance to warm the bed of her model attractive long-lost friend, especially seeing as he was also one of the best people she had ever known. He’d clammed up so suddenly though, brushing off her playful compliments and going painfully quiet, that she hurried to change the subject and smooth things over. “So, this is the place, huh?” she prompted, gesturing toward the storefront before them, the sign proudly proclaiming it was no longer on the market. “There wasn’t any trouble finalizing the paperwork?”

Graham shook his head easily, brushing off any lingering concerns she’d had about putting him out or causing him unnecessary stress and effort. She could only assume he was busy at his veterinary practice. Graham had always been smart, capable, and particularly in tune with animals of all varieties, even when they were young. And Storybrooke was still largely agricultural, rural with homes spread out between wide fields, rivers, woods and country roads. Nearly all would have farm animals, pets, or both, and Graham’s practice would be the only place in the county for folks to take their livestock if they didn’t want to travel a distance. He’d been kind enough to take time out of his schedule to help her scout locations in the town square to rent before her arrival, and so she at least had a shop ready and waiting for her to fill now that she was in town.

“Really?” she sought to confirm once more, rooting in her purse and trying to offer him something for his efforts - money that he predictably pushed back toward her with equal determination.

“Really, Emma. I’m serious. It was nothing.”

“If you say so,” she consented, sticking the twenties back into her bag, then taking the heavy, old-fashioned key he offered her and moving to unlock the door of her new shop.

“I do,” he reiterated. “It was as simple as stopping in to see Mary Margaret at the bank, asking to see the leases for places that were available to rent on Main, and then picking the best one out for you. She was thrilled to see the space in use and by someone she knows, likes, and can trust to take care of it, no less. Smooth as butter,” he added with a playful grin.

Shaking her head at his antics, Emma turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door to the empty, waiting space in which she was sure she would come to spend the bulk of her time. It might be a horrible idea to come back here and attempt to set up a business and make a living in a town people had been glad to see her leave. But in truth, it was time she returned. Trying to start over in another place with another life had ended up breaking her in all new ways, and it was time she stopped. Maybe she needed to have answers at last before her past could ever be laid to rest. And she wasn’t sure what else she could do with herself to earn a living. Her gift - or her curse, as it had more often felt to her - was inescapable. She’d tried to hide it, ignore the visions, shut out the way they flooded her and overwhelmed her senses since she was small, as far back as she could remember, but it had never worked. At least when she was working with the police in Boston, she could comfort herself with the knowledge that her solitary pain was doing some good. Though she wouldn’t be locating missing people or tracking down fleeing suspects, her instincts for reading people and situations, her vision and eye for details, even beyond what her second sight gave her, had granted her the ability to take stunning photographs - and to know when she saw truly gifted work done by others. She might not get as much business as she would in the city, but Storybrooke did have a tourist season where framed landscape shots might sell quite nicely, and there were still plenty of moneyed society ladies she had no doubt who would want family portraits taken or framed pieces to decorate their homes. She was counting on it being enough to keep a small, tasteful gallery afloat.

It wasn’t long before Graham’s lunch hour neared its end, and he had to be getting back to his practice for the afternoon. Laughing over the fact that there wasn’t anything more exciting on his schedule than an elderly basset hound who belonged to the local diner owner getting his annual vaccinations, Graham still admitted that the formidable Widow Lucas would not be happy if she and her beloved pet were stood up. Promising to come back afterwards and take her for a homecoming dinner, he saw himself out with a broad, jovial grin and a wave, leaving Emma warmed pleasantly by his welcome and smiling back in spite of herself, no matter how unfamiliar the expression had been in her life recently.

Once alone, Emma found the light switch, sat her purse on the long front counter, and located a broom in the corner to begin tidying up a bit, just making the space her own. However, she hadn’t been at it long before the bell over the entry rang, and she turned to see more at least vaguely familiar faces.

One of them was clearly David Nolan, all-American hometown golden boy, who had been a couple years ahead of her in school, though she remembered him well for being genuinely kind and decent to all, not just his fellow athletes and others in the popular crowd. She could even vividly remember one instance in her junior year when he had turned a corner into the hall where Storybrooke’s queen bee Regina Mills and her coterie of followers had cornered her to mock and shame her for her ripped, shabby second hand clothes and ugly glasses, which they’d taken, claiming they were trying to help her look less like a dog, and were passing them around their vicious circle just out of her reach. Even with her general tough exterior, Emma had been near either breaking into tears or socking Regina in the mouth, and was more than a little in awe when the captain of the football team had calmly walked up, plucked her glasses from one of the wide-eyed, staring minions, offered to take her books, and then proceeded to happily walk her to her next class as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to do. She wasn’t at all surprised in looking at him as an adult to see that his broad shouldered form had changed very little other than with the addition of slight weathering and more laugh lines to his face. Nor was she at all shocked to note that he wore a sheriff’s badge on his chest; it seemed just the sort of job such an upstanding and protective type would decide to do.

The second visitor took her a moment longer to place, and when she did, Emma’s eyes popped wider in surprise. Where once a spindly, messy-haired runt - for lack of a better term - had stood, she now saw a confident, fit, and filled out Walsh Ozman. His khakis and dress shirt were fashionable and well-tailored, showing off a still-trim physique, but with more muscled arms and torso and a more commanding posture. His brown hair was also more neat and closely trimmed, giving him an altogether more polished and capable air. Clearly this was someone who had worked almost as hard as she had to change himself and put the person he once was in the rearview mirror.

Still, despite the change in his appearance and the genuinely welcoming smile he offered as he stepped forward to shake her hand, Emma was no less flabbergasted to hear him say, “Emma Swan! It’s been a long time. As Mayor of Storybrooke, let me be one of the first to say it’s good to welcome you back again.”

Emma knew she was gaping rudely, like a fish out of water, before she nodded in agreement and offered her hand to shake in return.

But the third person in the little welcoming committee was the one who pulled most at her attention, even though she was fighting valiantly not to let her gaze pause and linger longingly on his handsomely dark features. Her body’s reaction to his presence - even as he hung back behind his two friends wordlessly - was undeniable. Emma shuddered involuntarily. She flushed hot all over, only to then be swept by cold chills in turn. Killian Jones. No matter how many years she had been away, his face was one that could not be forgotten.

Killian Jones, brother of the best friend she had ever known, the soul sister she had loved and lost, and now as an adult he was scion of their family’s considerable land and legacy, seemingly even more far removed from who she was and what she’d come from than he had been in their youth. He had always been there on the periphery - even at fourteen, busy with trying to please and impress his father, and much too preoccupied with his own friends and teenaged concerns to pay much mind to his little sister and her pitiable friend. All the same, while they might not have spoken a lot or spent any real time together, Emma had always been aware of his presence. The easy explanation would be his rumpled, natural good looks - which had only improved with maturity, she noted - but deep down, Emma knew it was more than that. An almost electrical current had always traveled across her skin when he was in the same room. Though quieter and easier to hide, it was as intense and powerful as any of her visions. And even more compelling, there had always been something so real, so solid, about Killian Jones that reassured her. Even back when she could barely speak to him or meet his eye, even as she understood that it was most probably due to the sturdiness of who he was and the life he lived in contrast to the tenuous uncertainty that made up her everyday existence.

She had almost allowed herself to see a hint of understanding, of empathy, when she had caught his eyes in unguarded moments back then. When Rose would tell her every so often about something a beloved older sibling would do, like when ‘Killy’ had helped her with her math homework, or when she reminisced about her older brother being the one to finally help her master riding her bike without training wheels, Emma had listened raptly, easily hearing the affection behind the sisterly griping about him being a know-it-all, and knowing inside that her sense about Killian was right.

None of that made her any less tongue-tied or ill at ease as he stepped forward to greet her though. The pull that she had always felt between them, even after all the years and miles, still existed, was stronger than ever, and it was the last thing she needed. She could only remind herself forcefully, while she tried to give an unconcerned smile to him as he dipped his head and arched an eyebrow before murmuring, “Swan, at long last, we meet again,” in that slow-honey accent, that she wasn’t about to let some handsome charmer derail all the progress she’d made - not again.

“Jones,” she replied, inwardly cheering at how steady her voice sounded while her insides were quivering. Her lips quirked with a reciprocally teasing expression. She wanted to say more, to seem as at home and easy in her own skin as he did standing there, but that had never been her way, and no further words escaped her tight throat.

As if sensing the weighted import in the air and reading it all too clearly, David broke in then, explaining cheerfully how Graham had told them at their last poker night that she was moving back, and how Killian - whose family owned the simple cabin she was renting - had let slip when she was due to arrive, and that they had all come to say hello, catch up, and offer help with any carrying and moving chores she might need. Grateful for the conversation shift - and someone else to focus on - Emma thanked them all for the welcome and their offer to help. “I’m hardly sure what I need yet though,” she added ruefully, “Most of my stock hasn’t arrived, and what has should still be boxed up in the back room.”

David nodded his understanding and said, “That makes sense. Just let us know if something comes up, alright?”

Emma nodded, playfully patting his bicep and grinning broadly. It felt so much less weighted to banter with him than with Jones as she joked. “Oh, I’ll definitely take a raincheck on making use of you guys and all your manly muscles.”

“Especially now that I have some to offer,” Walsh put in with a self-deprecating chuckle. The affable look on his face and the way he good naturedly bore Killian and David’s agreement with his statement and jibing laughter amazed Emma all over again. The defensive, unpleasant spoilsport she remembered, who had seemed to hate trailing in his friends’ shadows, but been unwilling to give up the association with them at the same time, was utterly gone from the adult Walsh Ozman she saw before her. And he was well-known and well-liked enough to be voted Mayor. The little niggling of hope it gave her for how much people could change was impossible to mistake.

As the three men turned to file out, Emma began to gaze around the oen shop space in earnest, anxious to get a feel for it and determine how she might set things up. However, she paused, turning back to the door to see Killian hesitating on the threshold, looking back at her intently as if torn between whether or not he should speak. His buddies had moved on down the sidewalk. She could see them through the large front display window, but Killian seemed in no hurry to follow.

Raising both brows in curious prompting, Emma tried to wait patiently, all the while hoping he wasn’t about to contradict David’s words, tell her she wasn’t welcome in Storybrooke, that his family didn’t need her there dredging up buried memories and poorly healed wounds. It might cripple her to hear those words from the lips of her last fragile connection to Rose, but she would face it head on all the same. Even with the fear of his dreaded rebuff, she couldn’t pull her eyes away from his.

When his warm, low voice rasped out what was on his mind at last, she was stunned instead of devastated by the words that washed over her. “It really is good to see you, Swan. It’s been too long…” He dropped his eyes to the smooth wood floor and the scuffed toes of his work boots, wetting his lips with a distracting swipe of his tongue before continuing. “You suffered a loss too - just as I did, or my family did - but you weren’t allowed the sympathy, the support, the fair shake you should have been. It wasn’t right… or fair… and I - I’ve hoped… so many times over the years that I would be able to tell you h-how sorry I am for that…”

Her breath stopped, piling up like a logjam in her chest, and tears started abruptly in her eyes as she bit her lip to hold in an involuntary sob. She shook her head - it wasn’t his fault! - and tried to respond, only to again find that no words would come and she continued to simply stare. Grasping for enough control to hold herself together, she took one wobbling step closer, wanting to offer some sort of comfort or thanks, before fumbling to a halt again.

It was so much more than what he had managed to get out, Killian found himself thinking. More and more went racing through his brain without finding voice to leave his mouth. Though his father had slowly pulled away from them after Rose’s loss - withdrawing in his despair and impotence to bring his darling back, abdicating his role as father to two surviving children and leader of their family, until he eventually drank himself to death - his mother had steeped in her bitterness and her stiff, proper gentility. She was convinced that her angelic youngest’s friendship with that undeserving child and her sneaking away to the woods the night she died, was completely Emma’s fault. She had never felt Emma Swan was a suitable companion for Rose, had barely tolerated Emma’s entering the house beyond the front hall when she visited, and hated the thought of their family being associated with the one which had fostered the strangely silent and unnerving young girl. Ruby had never had much in common with her twin, but had followed their mother in disliking Emma once Rose was gone. Killian had always suspected it was partly out of guilt, partly out of jealousy that Rose had found a sister of the spirit in her friend that she’d never had with her sibling, and maybe partly because it was the only way Ruby knew to lash out against their parents. Though she looked just like Rose, and had tried for years to be exactly what they wanted, she couldn’t ever live up to the child they had lost. Rose would be forever perfect in memory, and neither she nor Killian could hold a candle to her.

None of that blame belonged on Emma Swan’s conscience though, and it never had. His family had been wrong in working behind the scenes to turn public opinion against her foster father - wreck of a man though he was. Emma’s life had only become worse for the remainder of her school years. Killian didn’t know all the details, but it had to have done so. She didn’t even have a place to gain a few hours’ respite, nor Rose to listen to and understand her. He still hated himself for saying nothing, and not being old enough to find a way to do something, when he’d seen how she’d limped up their front walk that horribly normal-seeming morning just after dawn. The welts up the back of her legs and clearly carrying on over her back beneath her frayed shorts and faded top left her barely able to stand up straight, holding herself stiffly as she choked out her fear that something had happened to Rose and she needed to take them to her. He’d nearly swallowed his own tongue when his father had gripped her by the shoulders and shaken her harshly, demanding to know what she was talking about. She’d let out this shrill little keening noise like a wounded animal, but hadn’t fled. She’d merely stared back into Brennan Jones’s face dully, her voice flat once she’d gotten her breath back - he knew now from probably having the painful remnants of a beating torn back open by his father’s thoughtless actions - and repeated, “She went to our spot last night - out by the pond. We were supposed to meet at midnight. I c-couldn’t…. I wasn’t able to get there…But someone else was. I can show you, but we need to go to her.”

The chill that had run down his spine at her words, and the broken, lifeless expression in her eyes as she spoke them, had never truly left Killian. The shock that had taken him over, and the nightmarish blur of chaos the rest of that day and the days that followed had become, had kept him from realizing at first just how much Emma too must have been suffering, how badly she had been hurt as well, though she’d survived when Rose did not, how badly all of them had failed her.

Granted, his family had never been the same after that. His father had commissioned a marble statue, a graceful, peaceful likeness of Rose which still watched over those quiet waters his child had once adored, but locked himself away from his surviving family behind a stony silence which was every bit as cold and impenetrable. His mother had proclaimed Emma Swan was never to be spoken of in their house again, and it was as though the one link he could have maintained to Rose ceased to exist. With every year that passed, his mother seemed to grow colder, more brittle, more correct, and more distant from the two children who still needed whatever love she might have found to offer them. Ruby had simpered and sashayed, charmed half the boys in the county while winning pageant titles and talent shows, until she finally decided that no accomplishment would ever crown her as her lost sister. She’d then given up, thrown caution to the wind, lived for her own thrills and pleasure until she had eloped and run off with Pete Lupino mere weeks shy of finishing high school. He still didn’t know - wasn’t sure he wanted to know - where all she had been, what she’d done, and whom she had done it with, before she’d blown back into town three years ago, taken up residence in her childhood bedroom, and proceeded to set their mother’s teeth on edge at every turn, still seeking some relief from the ghosts that haunted her.

Be that as it may, they’d still had each other, if they had been willing to see it. Emma had never possessed a family, very few friends, or even a safe place to call home. Without Rose, she must have felt completely adrift and even more at the mercy of the forces which shaped and buffetted her life. Killian couldn’t undo what had already been done, but he had vowed long ago - had even accepted that it might well be part of him ever managing to find some peace - that if Fate presented him with a chance to make things up to her, to set some of his family’s wrongs right, he wouldn’t hesitate to do just that.

His mind circled back to the present when Emma shook her head emphatically, her mouth opening and closing without emitting audible words, but finally curving into a trembling smile. “That’s - I - thank you…” she finally managed softly. “But it wasn’t your fault. I know how it looked, and what your parents - hell, what half the town thought… You don’t need to apologize.”

“But I do!” Killian cut her off quickly, not meaning to keep her from speaking, but needing her to know this truth at least. “I knew… I’ve always known! You had nothing to do with what happened! It wasn’t your fault. There wasn’t anything you could have done. I don’t know what else people might have put on you, or what you might have put on yourself, but Rose wouldn’t have wanted any of that - would have told us all off if she could have seen the way you were treated. You were her best friend, and she wanted to meet you that night. The only- ” and there his words did choke up on him, emotion threatening to overcome his intentions. “The only good thing that did happen that night was that you didn’t make it out there, or that monster would have killed you too.”

Emma sighed, shaking her head sadly, and turning to lean her hip against the high counter next to her, running her hand over its polished surface and avoiding his eyes. “I’m not sure how good that was, really,” she whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear, and possibly meant only for herself. “If I could have changed places with her, let her somehow be here now, alive and well, I would have.”

He took two long strides across the room and stood right in front of her, dipping his head to peer into her face, refusing to let her avoid his stare. “Don’t say that,” he pled fervently. “I’ve thought the same thing more often than I can count, but it won’t do any good… it won’t bring her back.”

Stunned and almost entranced as she watched his throat work, Emma wasn’t sure what to make of him at that moment, the intensity radiating off of him enough to singe her skin. He was standing so close she could see the way the cerulean depths of his eyes swirled with his stormy emotion, and she wanted to lean on him, to believe he cared as deeply as it seemed, no matter how undeserved or nonsensical it might appear. It was impossible, but to think that he might actually care whether she stayed or went, or what happened to her next, was bolstering and revelatory. It had been all too rare in her life, and for a moment Emma just wanted to breathe in that feeling.

There was little else to be said, but eventually Killian backed up slightly, offered her a crooked smile, and tried to ease them back onto more normal footing. “Well, talk about making things awkward, eh?” he chuffed, shaking his head and clearly laughing at his own expense. “I didn’t mean to seem quite that intense, but… it needed to be said.”

Emma merely stared back at him, allowing one more real, unforced smile to break through. “Most of my life is awkward,” she shrugged. “Try being able to see people’s thoughts and intentions without meaning to and without warning. It isn’t a great way to make friends.”

He snorted a surprised sort of laugh through his nose at the unexpected retort, and she joined him, easing some of their lingering discomfort. He proceeded to make sure that she had the key to the cabin rental for when she’d head home that night, assured her that she should call if there were any problems or she needed anything, and then he finally left her to her planning and unpacking, his heart feeling some small bit lighter. It was only a start, but it was a beginning step he’d needed to take for a long time, and he already felt better for it.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Across the street, just around the corner and out of sight, another watched and waited, knowing his time at last had come. There was a heady mix of anticipation and rage swelling within as he peered across the quiet Main Street. Her lithe, enticing form moved in and out of view frustratingly often as she explored the space and as the bright sun cast a glare off the window glass from the distance and angle at which he stood. There was nothing for it though; he had enough of his wits about him not to venture any closer, even with the evening shadows beginning to gather.

So the little swan had at last come home to roost, back where she belonged. She had escaped him then, and he’d made do with half the set, the pair who were meant to be his. But now that voice inside him, the one which had always guided him, cackled and rose with renewed hunger. At last he would finish it; all would be as it should. He had waited, oh so patiently, always knowing his time would come. He’d hunted when he needed to, but it had never been quite right - not since the first time all those years ago. Just a bit longer, he’d bide his time. She wouldn’t see him coming. No one ever had, and even she, with her strange, sad, knowing eyes, would be none the wiser until it was too late. Until he had finally brought it all full circle and made Emma Swan his own.

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