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ellemany · 11 months

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Stressed Out - Chapter IX

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Energy Transfer

Recommended Music: This is me trying - Taylor Swift

The term energy transfer is used to describe the transfer of excitation from one body to another, the same or different, or between groups of the same molecule.

The Chamber body cautiously tries to perform an energy exchange with the Viper body. He just need to know if she will accept it or not.

They died.

He was electrocuted and she was stabbed in the head.

Well, it was an occupational hazard.

When Viper regained consciousness, she was in the Protocol ward, lying on a stretcher and wearing a hospital gown. The healing process was supposed to be over a while ago and they pulled her out of the resurrection chamber so she wouldn't be taking up space. She had a hell of a headache. The muscles tingled. And she had a horrible taste of spoiled bread in her mouth.

Viper sat on the bed dropping a groan, resting her head on the metal backrest. She took a deep breath, with the smell of infirmary hitting her.

- How are you feeling?

Viper could recognize that timbre anywhere. The calm and gentle intonation made him relax. The muscles stopped tingling.

She turned to him. Chamber was on the gurney next to hers, wearing the same hospital gown. He moved the uncomfortable tissue, as if he wanted to get it out of his body as soon as possible. Chamber was out of glasses, which meant he was practically blind. Viper wondered how he knew she was there.

- With a headache. – Her voice came out hoarse. She put her hands together on her lap, playing with her thumbs. - That Jett's reflexes were sharp as hell. - She said, grumpy.

- At least you saw where that came from. - Chamber grumbled, running his hand through his hair.

- I told you it's a bad idea to be in the same place all the time. - Viper spoke with a little contentment, knowing that he had ignored her advice to move tactically.

- But I can always hit at least one. - Chamber argued defensively. - How was I supposed to imagine that psycho Sova would shoot two arrows exactly where I was?

Viper breathed a sigh, squeezing her lips to contain her smile.

- The spike was disarmed? - She controlled her voice so she wouldn't get more fun than she intended.

-Yes... Killjoy used the turret for what it heard.

- Hell, I hate that little robot. - Viper wrinkled her nose, thinking of Killjoy's annoying robot. - My clone must have died trying to destroy that little thing.

- It's very irritating. The boombot too.

- Oh, I still have nightmares about that happy little face...

-Serious? I thought you were the only one. Usually I dream that there's an army of those little things trying to break into my apartment and blow me up in little pieces. - Chamber spoke with fun and almost, almost, made Viper let out a laugh.

They let the silence flood the infirmary. It was light and comfortable. They heard the base moving in the distance. That postmortem moment between them seemed soft, contrasting with the tension of the plane.

-Can we...? - Viper turned to Chamber, waiting for him to speak. His face was facing her, his eyelids almost closing as he tried to see something.

Viper controlled herself so as not to laugh at his face, while also wanting to yell at him for everything that he put her through. She took a deep breath, lifting one of her shoulders.

- Now?

- You want to wait for us to die again? - Your speech was a mixture of humor and nervousness. Chamber snapped his tongue, scratching his eye. - This could be the last time... And... I don't want to wait to find out if it's going to be or not...

Viper wet her lips, thinking that, unfortunately, Chamber was right. They could die on the next mission. It wasn't worth rooting for being resurrected once again to try to solve their issues. Every opportunity, every moment, could be the last.

- Ok… - She spoke without really wanting to face what was to come. She pressed her hands tight in her lap, controlling herself so as not to cross her arms. The scientist sniffed, thinking that more than one last moment, that was a decisive action.

- Ok… - He repeated and bit his lips before he spoke. - I... Why didn't you go on the test of the new projectiles?

Viper raised her eyebrows, surprised that he touched on this subject. She reflected for a moment, recalling when he had spoken to her that he would take the test. Three days ago, when his intonation was that of an ice cube and made her respond in the same way.

- I thought you didn't want me around. - She spoke candidly, remembering how sore her heart was by the way he spoke that day. - So I didn't stay around...

Chamber let out the air, wetting his lips.

- I never said that.

- The way you said it, it looked like. - The words came out quickly, as if her heart wanted to let go of everything that hurt her. - It looks like you... Push me away. - Viper had an ironic laugh. - By the heavens... It even looks like me. - She sniffed, looking the other way, where a curtain was parting her from the other area of the infirmary. She kept analyzing the balls that decorated the fabric. Viper swallowed dry and squeezed her hands. She wasn't used to it at all. - I don't want you to... Be like me... Drowned at work and driving everyone away... I... I know what it's like. And And... Oh, shit. - Viper gave up, hugging herself.

This was the first time she had given a way to express her feelings to anyone. It was weird, embarrassing and... Okay, she was feeling a little lighter, but that didn't mean she didn't want to get in a hole for saying all that out loud.

Viper's arms were hurting by the force with which she held them, her nails stuck in the flesh. She heard Chamber's stretcher creaking and turned around, watching him. Of all the feelings that invaded her, the last one Viper expected to hit her was fun. Since it wasn't every day that she saw Chamber with his arms stretched out like a blind man, trying to reach her. And he was totally lost.

- Can you ou merde! - He slammed his little finger on the corner of one of the tables with medical devices between them, making a grimace. - Why did this have to happen now? - He whimpered, groping the table, trying to locate himself.

Viper let go of the air with a smile, putting her hand on her face afterwards. She shook her head and leaned over the stretcher, holding his wrist.

- This way. - She guided him around the table, helping him get close to her. Viper gave him space to lean on the gurney, moving away a little. - Ready. Better, blind guy? - She raised an eyebrow, with a debauched smile playing on her lips. - Next time I'm going to get you a cane, too.

-Wow!. How funny she is. Ha ha. - He spoke ironically, his face turned toward her. Chamber narrowed his eyes a little. - I don't see you yet.

- No wonder why. - She rolled her eyes squeezing her lips a little to contain another smile.

- Can I be closer?

Viper looked at him for a few seconds, thinking about the proposal. She knew that the closeness Chamber spoke of was enough for her to see that his brown eyes were honey-like. That his nose was a little crooked to the left and that his lips were inches away from hers.

It was the proximity of a kiss.

Viper missed when they got close like that every day.

She decided it was time to kill the many longings she felt.

- Come here. - She touched his arm, pulling him a little.

Chamber climbed on the gurney, groping until he lay on his side. Viper lay on the stretcher facing him, feeling his breath against her skin and his smell instilling her lungs. That colony won't come out even after he dies. Viper was grateful for the good quality of the fragrance that she always liked.

- Better? - She whispered reluctantly, as if to tell a secret to someone special.

-A little. - He responded in the same way, struggling to focus his gaze on her. With his fingertips, he put a lock of her hair behind her ear. The soft touch like a feather was sweet enough for Viper to feel her cheeks warming. She scolded herself for the automatic response of her body. Chamber took a deep breath, pushing his hand away from her and Viper struggled not to hold him to keep him close. - I... I'm sorry I had a fight with you. - His voice transuded his repentance and pain amid the slurred words, each uttered with difficulty. Taking down his pride was harder than it seemed, but, somehow, Chamber managed to keep going. - You tried to do something for me that I didn't even realize I needed and... I was so stressed that I discounted on… Everything I said... Sabine... I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that. - Chamber's eyes trembled, as if he wanted to look away, but he didn't. His nose was as red as ever. - Those days you've been away... I think hell must look like what I felt... I don't want to push you away… And I don’t want you stay away from me...

Chamber gave up, looking away. Viper watched him for a few seconds, feeling her heart inflate by that man in front of her like never before. Her remorse dissipated much faster than she expected, giving way to the simple and pure love she felt for him. Looking at his resigned feature after giving that clumsy statement, Viper knew that she didn't want to walk away from Chamber either. On the contrary, she wanted to be close to him. As close as their atoms and the space between them allowed.

She took her hand to his face, stroking his soft cheek with her thumb, feeling that familiar electricity go through her as always when she felt glued to him. He held her hand in his face, closing his eyes. They entered a contemplative silence, digesting everything they just said.

- That's... Weird, huh? - Viper commented, resting her head on her arm.

- Too much weird. - Chamber nodded.

- We can't fight anymore. I don't want to repeat that. - Viper swallowed in dry, wetting her lips.

- Me neither. - Chamber denied it with his head, pulling her hand a little and kissing her wrist.

Viper gave a slight smile and approached him more, supporting her forehead on his, closing her eyes.

- I’m sorry for ruining your kitchen - She muttered, shrugging her shoulders a little as she remembers the stated she left his kitchen.

Chamber gave a corner smile, pressing her hand.

- It's over... I... I can teach you how to make food... We can try again.

Viper let go of the air, thinking of sending a "not in this lifetime" to his proposal.

But giving up trying was never her style.

- Of course we can... - She muttered, passing her arms around him, hugging him affectionately. She listened to his heartbeat and she enjoyed his breath against her, until she remembered something. - Actually... - She tilted her head back, looking at his face. - I think we should do something else first.

As Viper opened a mismatched smile, Chamber made a confused face, with no idea what she was talking about.

>>> Next Chapter

#valorant #valorant fanfiction #valorant viper #valorant chamber #Chiper #Bitemark #Stressed Out #Chapter IX #me trying

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fieriframes · 1 year

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[Chapter IX 296 457.]

#s37e03 from vikings to wings #guy fieri #guyfieri #diners drive-ins and dives #chapter ix

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haunted-xander · 1 year

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dffoo has some gold tier interactions

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1ivinqdeadqir1 · 4 months

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SHADES OF COOL: VI

Chapter 6: No Good Men

A/N: Hey guys, it’s been a hot minute since I updated this fic, but I’ve had a lot going on recently in my personal life (I.e. university and getting assignments In) that by the time everything was complete, I no longer had the motivation to work on chapter 6. I think from now on I’m gonna aim for more frequent, less wordy chapters as this one in itself is already over 8k… I hope you understand and I hope you enjoy my shit attempt at smut lol… lmk what you think and if you want more

WARNINGS: Lalo and reader being pervs, oral sex (f receiving), allusion to alcoholism, shit childhood for reader, turbulent ‘friendships’

Word count: 8.4k words

Shades of Cool Masterlist: Here

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

As the music flows from the speaker, Lalo glances at you from where you’re sitting, your knees pointing in his direction and your eyes half-lidded. He extends his arm once you reach a red light and places his palm atop your bare thigh. You're smooth against him, yet there’s a chill to your flesh. Slowly, he begins to draw shapes into your pillowy skin. You don’t jump at his touch or flinch as he starts to move the pads of his fingers across the surface, though the warmth that settles in your stomach is almost too hard to ignore.

“Lalo?..”

He doesn’t answer and instead presses on the accelerator with the ball of his foot. The sudden jolt makes you jump, yet his hold remains firm, gripping—the houses in your neighbourhood flash by the window. When you reach your home, he parks up and turns to you, the car keys now in his pocket. You smile at him, and he smiles back.

“I had a great night tonight, Lalo..”

He shrugs, and his eyes are closed as he does.

“I know,”

“No, really, I did enjoy myself, though I… maybe we should… do it again?”

Lalo hums and taps on his lap. He doesn’t answer and instead steps out of the car and rounds his way to your side. The breeze whips at your exposed legs as he opens the door, outstretching a hand for you to take, a soft ‘come on’ falling from his lips. You almost can’t hear him; his voice is muffled beneath the pounding of your heart against your ribcage.

He walks you to your front door and chimes in as you reach the doormat.

“I think we should go out again soon as well. You’re a good person, and I mean…” he rubs the back of his neck, feigning bashfulness. “If tío Hector likes you, you must be an angel.”

The skin of your cheeks is hit with what feels like tiny pinpricks, the fuzz of your face slightly lifting as Lalo compliments you. An angel, perhaps an exaggeration from your visitor, but still, with the darkening hue, there was no denying how he made you feel.

“You don’t.. you don’t mean that.”

“I do. You think I don’t?”

He steps closer, and you don’t move. He delicately brushes back strands of hair, tucking them behind your ear. There’s a tenderness in his touch, as though you could break at any moment beneath him.

“What I think is that you’re exaggerating a little bit.”

He presses a kiss to your cheek and then your head. “Exaggerating, you think I’d lie to you?”

“I-“ you stammer, swallowing back the nerves that settle within the pit of your stomach. “Do you wanna come inside for a little bit? I have… have a bottle of wine we can crack open.”

Lalo sighs and locks his car before looking back at you, his dark eyes fixed on your own.

“We’re not just going to sit and drink wine, are we?”

He lets go and steps back, allowing you to unlock the door. You struggle to fit the key into the lock as he stands behind you, the scent of his cologne lingering in the night breeze. He smells like old money and expensive perfume, and you want to bury your face into his chest and take big breaths through your nose to savour it.

“It’s…well, you’ve been here before, so…”

As you enter the building, you kick off your heels, and they make a dull clicking sound as they land on the soft carpeted floorboards. Lalo follows you but doesn't immediately remove his shoes because he's too busy glancing at the pictures on the walls and the mirror adjacent to the front door.

“I have a small TV in my room. We can see what’s on?”

As you invite him into your bedroom, he takes his time observing the space and examining each piece of furniture. The room is coated in a muted, rosy pink wash, and the shelves are filled with books. The pages having been thumbed through countless times, resulting in a warm, buttery colour. His fingers gently trace the words on the spines of the books, "Stephen King? I never would have guessed that you were a fan of horror. Didn't he write that huge book about a creepy clown?"

“Yeah, pennywise… that book freaked me out when I read it, though Salem's Lot is my favourite…”

Lalo hums again. Your collection is so extensive he isn’t sure where it starts and where it ends. There are even books piled up on the floor and beneath your bed, by the looks of it. Their spines peek out from the bedcover, which tickles the carpet. “Do you have a favourite book, Lalo?”

“I… I don't have much time to read anymore, but when I was younger, I liked Blood Meridian. It’s perfect. The guy that writes it… He’s smart as hell.”

“I love that one. It’s a little gruesome in places, but I think it adds to the atmosphere?”

Nodding, Lalo turns his attention to the stuffed animals that sit propped against your pillows. He notices the little faces of the plush toys smiling at him and reaches for a pink, floppy cat, “Es muy lindo.”

The warm light of your bedside lamp highlights the gentle smile on your face. Your makeup appears smudged, but it doesn't detract from your beauty.

“Could you…”

“Oh, yeah, of course.”

Lalo takes a few steps closer and pinches the zip between his forefinger and thumb, slowly pulling it down your back until it reaches the band of your underwear. You thank him, though you pause when he doesn’t move to turn around or cover his eyes.

“Aye- where’s your bathroom again?”

“Just down the hall to your right- near the kitchen.”

When he leaves for the bathroom, you let the dress fall from your shoulders and pool around your feet. You unclip your bra and toss it haphazardly across the room with your dress. They land down by the cupboard, and you cover yourself quickly with an oversized graphic t-shirt that is a similar length to the dress. You sit on the bed, curled into the pillow closest to the wall and reach for the TV remote propped against the window ledge.

Lalo is quick in the bathroom, though he takes a moment to look at your hair products and the body wash. Picking up the shampoo and flipping open the lid, sniffing, He’s Hit with the scent of peonies and jasmine. The man can’t help but take one last breath before putting it down and looking at the others. He washes his hands before returning to the bedroom; even your soap smells of flowers. He makes a mental note.

“Hey, you okay, Lalo?”

You’re curled into a cushion leaning against the wall, and he smiles, the thrum of the TV drawing out the comfortable silence between you both.

“I’m fine; you have a lovely home. It’s so…cosy.”

You quirk a brow as he sits - having kicked off his shoes - on your bed with one leg folded atop the other, his back to the headboard with one arm leaning against it. You turn into him and smile, “Cosy, are you trying to say that I’ve got a small house?”

He chuckles, and you can feel his body shake as he does. “No, of course not. I mean- it’s small, but I meant that it feels… homely, you know?”

It’s your turn to nod, and when you do, Lalo rests a hand on your shoulder. “I do know. I’m only messing with you… I wouldn’t need a big house anyway.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhm, it is only me, after all.”

The film playing is a western from the 60s, something with Clint Eastwood that Lalo looks as though he’s somewhat enjoying. “Do you ever feel lonely here all by yourself?”

He doesn’t look at you when he asks, though you can feel the question pointed in your direction as he concentrates on the film. “No, not really. I like my own space. I spend enough time with people at work, though it can be a bit… not scary but tense when I find stuff outside my house from that weirdo.”

Lalo nods again, though he looks down at you with his brown eyes this time. “Don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll stop bothering you.”

“It’s funny you say that; I haven’t seen or heard of anything over the last few days… which is weird.” Lalo traces the skin of your arm and nods along, humming as though he hadn’t a clue whether or not Daniel would quit his torment.

“You’re pretty observant, then?”

“I try to be. Well, I am when I have a full night's rest.”

Lalo huffs and slightly pulls at your T-shirt sleeve to reveal a floral tattoo that goes from your collarbone to your inner bicep. “Tattoos, huh? You surprise me more and more every day.”

You shuffle a little so you’re curled into him, your finger tracing across his chest, feeling the imprint of the pendant beneath his button-through shirt. “Mmhm, you don’t like it?”

“No,” he began, drawing his fingers across the delicate linework. “ I love it. It's well done.” You shiver beneath his touch as he mirrors the leaves with his fingertip. “Plus, it suits you. When did you get it done?”

You sigh and close your eyes for a second, glancing now and again at the screen. “When I was 18 years old, it was a birthday present to myself, I suppose. It only cost 120.”

“Not bad at all; mine was around a similar price, maybe more, but… I’ve had it for years now.”

You reach out to take hold of his arm, leisurely tracing over his tattoo armband- following each curve and swirl that the blackwork harbours. “Does it have any special meaning?”

“Not really,” he sighs and looks down, “just thought it looked cool when I was about your age.”

Laughing, you slowly place his arm back down, though you stay in a similar position to how you had been before. “You’re making yourself sound so old, Lalo.”

“Old? 43 isn’t old, princesa.”

“You’re old enough to be my dad, just about.”

You hear him hum and slowly reach down to place his hand on your back, rubbing circles into the T-shirt that bunches up as you wiggle closer to him. “Oh yeah? And you like that?”

“Maybe,” you brush his hair back. “The older the fruit, the sweeter the wine.”

Lalo scoffs and presses his strong nose to your hairline, taking a deep breath. When he sighs, you glance up at his lips. And when he moves back, you close your eyes and press your lips to his. The hair above his upper lip tickles your own, and you bunch your fists into the cotton sheet draped loosely across your bed. He seems to falter against the headboard but kisses back moments after, gripping your shoulders with both hands. You stay like that for a few seconds, savouring the warmth and pillowy velvet feeling of his lips driven between your own.

Your kisses become more desperate, and his hold tighter as you sigh against his mouth. He presses you down against the mattress, leaning over your top half, one hand curled into your hair whilst the other clutches at the exposed flesh of your thigh.

“La…Lalo,” you tilt your head back as he stamps hot, wet kisses down your jaw and neck. Lalo drags on the fragile skin that lies taut across your collarbone and pulls his large hand from your hair to your throat. His breath blisters as it fans out across your body.

“So whiny, and I’ve hardly touched you…” His laugh vibrates against the crook of your neck, and you roll your eyes and hips as he teases you by slipping his hand across your underwear.

“Can you stop with the teasing and just…do something?”

He huffed and sat back, pushing your hair out of your face. His knuckles had barely grazed your skin, yet he could feel the heat radiating from you. “You think that the first time I’m going to have you, it’s gonna be on this tiny bed? No way, you deserve better than that, amor.”

Tossing your head into your pillow, you let out a frustrated groan and look up at him with half-lidded eyes. Leaning on your elbows, you smirk at him and trace your fingertips across his abdomen until your fingers meet the metal clasp of his belt. It’s enormous, though, you know, as your hand cups the bulge tight against his pants that he isn’t overcompensating.

“Is that a gun in your pants, or are you just happy to see me?”

“ Oh, shut up.” he presses his lips to yours, and you hook your fingers into the loops of his trousers, pulling his hips flush against your own. He lets out a groan as you grind up against his clothed erection.

“You’re sure you don’t want me to take care of that?”

“I’m pretty sure. Besides, you have work tomorrow, hm? I don’t want you being bed-bound before work.”

You take your lip between your teeth, and he brushes his thumb across the lower. Parting them slightly, Lalo moves his thumb across your tongue and into your mouth. He watches as your tongue wrestles with him, and you whine and writhe under his shadow.

When he pulls out his thumb, there’s a lewd pop, and he chuckles to himself, muttering something in Spanish that’s almost inaudible due to the sound of your shallow breaths. The man then peels off your T-shirt and throws it to the ground, kissing down the valley of your breasts, leaving little bites in his wake.

“Fuck, Lalo”

He kisses your breasts and slowly takes your swollen bud between his teeth. Pressing your legs together, you whine into the cotton pillow as the tingling sensation stirs within your stomach and at the apex of your thighs.

“L-Lalo, please…”

He chuckles again, removing your nipple from his lips, a bastardly smirk across his face. “Yeah? Are you going to beg for me, princesa? Want me to play with your little coño?”

You scoff, “Don’t be ridiculous-“ he resumes kissing, his free hand kneading the soft flesh, and you moan before slapping your hand across your mouth. Your cheeks burn against your palm, and Lalo quirks a brow at you as you narrowly avoid eye contact. “Oh, I’m ridiculous now, hm? You don’t have to cover your mouth, querida. I wanna hear all your pretty little sounds.” Lalo momentarily cups your face in his hand, caressing the side with his thumb. You might melt with how he looks at you, with those gorgeous brown eyes.

“Mmhm, stop; you’re gonna embarrass me…”

“With all due respect, you’re almost naked…shouldn’t be embarrassed for whining.”

You nod, and he kisses your sternum before moving down your stomach to the underwear band. He takes a deep breath and sighs, “Ai, pinche cabrón, you smell good enough to eat.”

You giggle, resisting the urge to cover your face with your hands. “Don’t be disgusting, Lalo…”

He smiles and hooks his fingers into the elastic, slowly tugging the material down your legs. He leans back to pull them from your ankle, where they hang momentarily, before throwing them across the room. They join the place alongside your shirt. “So pretty, is this all for me?”

“Only for you, Lalo..” you sigh out.

Lalo hums and presses wet kisses across your thighs before arriving at the space between your legs, where he takes time drawing stripes with his tongue across the smooth skin. You cry out when he reaches your clit. You curl your fingers into his greying hair as he pulls you closer and latches his lips to the swollen bundle of nerves and suckles. He moves his head from side to side as he does, and one of his hands moves from beneath your leg to your hole. He toys at your entrance with his index and middle finger, drawing circles with the tips as you gush around him.

“Fuck Lalo, please, stop teas-”

“Stop? You really want me to stop?” He smiles up at you, his eyes drooping as if half asleep. You think you hear him laugh as you instinctively try to push your thighs together, but Lalo’s grip on your legs is firm, and you give up against the strain of him.

“No!- No, I didn’t mean that.” You want to hit yourself with how stupid you sound whining; you’re giving him all the satisfaction he needs. “Please, Lalo,”

He pauses his kissing and tilts his head, “ I don’t want you to think I’m just gonna fuck you and leave. I’m not. You’re all in now, querida.” The man between your legs lowers his head of dark hair. You move your hand to his greying soft curls and pull. There’s a groan, and beneath the sounds of your pleasure, you aren’t sure where it came from, but the sound vibrates against your core as two fingers enter you slowly.

Whimpering, you hit your head into the pillow and moan. It’s loud and obnoxious, but the cotton muffles your noises, and Lalo hums against you.

There’s a hot, bubbling feeling in your stomach, and the knot tightens as Lalo moves faster and curls his fingers inside you. You move your legs over his shoulders as he grips your right thigh with his free hand. Your feet are locked together, one ankle crossed over the other against his back. They twitch slightly, and his lips on your clit pull harder.

“L-lalo,” you almost feel like crying. You’re on the edge as he slams into you repeatedly. You inhale and exhale and feel the rush of heat leave your cunt. It’s sticky and warm against your thighs, and the sound that leaves your lips is embarrassing. Your legs twitch as he stays there, pushing into you and curling his fingers in a ‘ come here ‘ motion, his lips still secured around you.

You think you can see black filtering into your vision in bursts, like dahlias that come and go as sweat drips from your head and your nails sink into thick, dark brown. Your lungs' breath is warm, and as you pant into your pillow, now slightly damp, you feel him shifting slowly away. His kissing becomes more loving and drawn out, and he licks away the river between your legs that seeps into the mattress.

When Lalo sits back on his knees with his hands resting on your thighs, you don’t think you’ve ever seen such a beautiful man. His greying hair was slightly dishevelled and falling against his forehead, and the deep lines on his face fell, each holding so many years of human emotion. You think you smile at him in your fucked-up daze and reach out.

He lowers himself, and he’s talking, but the words aren’t registering as your palm meets the side of his head. Lalo presses his wet fingers against your lips, and you don’t hesitate to swirl your tongue around them, tasting the remnant of your pleasure, the way he makes you feel.

When he takes them from your lips, he leans back again, and you sigh. He’s gone for a moment but comes back with a warm towel from the heating rack in your bathroom. He presses the softness against your middle and slowly, lovingly cleans away the evidence of your arousal until there’s nothing left. Lalo then moves to a clean part of the towel and dabs at the sweat on your forehead. He draws back the strands of your hair that stick to the skin, and once dry, he presses a kiss there. It’s long, and in the silence of your room, the TV static is the only source of light. You feel safe.

“You’re sleepy now, huh? Ai, sweet girl,” he positions himself against the headboard, and you shuffle into his side, head against his chest with a hand on his stomach. You press, and he’s warm against your naked body.

Lalo combs his fingers through your locks and twirls the strands. He’s wide awake as you slowly feel yourself drifting in and out of consciousness. The man throws a blanket over you, and you hum against him.

“So precious; get some rest, amor. I’m not going anywhere.”

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

You wake up to the smell of pig fat frying and the sound of eggshells cracking. There’s no one in your bed, and you’re tucked into the covers with your head lying flat against the pillow. You nestle into the blanket, pulling it to your chest as you bend your knees and curl into a ball. The lids of your eyes feel drawn with sleep, and they almost flutter shut before you glance at the alarm clock on your bedside table. 5:50, you had to be at work for 7, and the realisation is what threw your body from beneath the covers onto the carpeted floorboards.

Your clothes from last night are folded and placed nicely on your dresser. Smiling, you pick them up and plop them into the washing basket before getting dressed in your uniform. It’s pretty frumpy, and it’s frustrating that you have to cover your tattoos, but it could be worse.

When you finally enter the hall and walk to the kitchen, the smell of bacon grease and eggs grows more potent with each step. Lalo’s stood at your stove, flipping an omelette and poking at the bacon with your spatula.

“Good morning,” lips curled up slightly; you slide alongside him as he plates the food onto two colourful dishes. “Buenas Dias, amorcita, you slept well?”

Nodding, you move to the coffee pot and pour yourself a cup. The steam from the liquid warms your cheeks as you proceed with the mug to sit at the small table parallel to the stove. Lalo slides the plate in front of you, to which you thank him with a kiss on the cheek when he comes back with a knife and fork. “Thank you, it looks amazing… usually I just have a pop-tart or some toast and leave.”

Lalo scoffs and sits down with his plate and a cup of coffee at his side, the same cup he’d had when you entered the room. “No, no, there’ll be none of that, basura. You have a busy job, hm? Gotta have a good breakfast to give you energy.”

“I suppose so.” you cut some of the omelette and fork it into your mouth. The softness of the eggs effortlessly melted between your teeth as you chewed, the salt-to-pepper ratio was perfect, and you think he even added some of your spices, which was a pleasant surprise. Bland food makes you want to vomit. He takes a bite of the food, and audibly groans “not half bad, if I do say so myself.”

“Not half bad? Don’t be humble. You’re an amazing cook, Lalo.”

He chuckles and eats some more, taking a sip of the coffee to wash it down. Your cup is steaming, so you refrain from taking long swigs to not burn your tongue.

“So, work today… I’ll drop you off, if you’d like.” he taps at the table with, as though tapping along to a song in his head. “No, it’s alright… I’ll have to drive home”

“I’ll pick you up and drop you off, I’m pretty free today, not much stuff to do other than pick up some things for the restaurant”

You bite the inside of your cheek, your knee bouncing as you think. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you” deep down, the selfish part of you wanted Lalo to pick you up and drop you off. As you finished your food sat across from him- slowly chewing to not make a mess despite your appetite- you wondered why he’d decided to stay the night and whether or not he’d even slept at all.

“If I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t have offered, querida”

The man sat across from you finished his food relatively quickly, and it made sense. He’s bigger than you, he can fit more food in his mouth. That, or maybe you’d spent half the time he’d spent eating watching him with your sleep filled eyes. Struggling to form any semblance of coherent thought as you admire the way he moves before you.

“I- alright, I’ve gotta be there for 7:00, so I’m gonna go freshen up in the bathroom and then we can go if that’s alright with you?” You join him at the sink as he dips his hands into the soapy water, a veil of bubbles lacing his fingers as he takes the plate from you with a smile. “That’s fine by me, I won’t rush you, you’ll be there.” Lalo pressed a kiss to your hairline, his nose in your hair as he does. Having not showered yet, you hope the smell of dry shampoo smells as good as the regular shampoo you’d normally use on work nights.

“Thanks Lalo, don’t bother drying them I’ll do that later when I get back from work”

He goes to open his mouth, but closes it again as you pace out of the room, starting toward your bathroom to get ready. Once having finished with the dishes, he places them both carefully on the drying rack alongside the non-stick pan and cutlery he’d placed out. Your coffee had been reduced to a grainy paste at the bottom of the mug, so he washed that out and cleaned it too.

As you were busy getting ready, he headed back into your bedroom and started on your bed. He began by straightening out the quilt and sheets, along with your bears which now sat facing him. He picked one up, the one you'd latched onto last night in your sleep, and he raised it to his nose and breathed in. It smells… sweet. It smells of you, your distinct, natural smell that he just wants to marinate in. It’s not like your shampoo or body wash, but more flesh-like in nature. Must be the pheromones, or something. He didn’t remember much from his biology classes in high school, most of what he’d learned just miraculously appeared to him whenever (or wherever) he needed it.

As Lalo continued to pot around your bedroom, occasionally picking up little trinkets you’d left out, you washed your face and applied a light amount of makeup, enough to cover the bags under your eyes and any blemishes. With the heat, you couldn’t handle a full face. By 12pm it would’ve melted off anyway, so there was no real point in attempting to try. You then brushed your teeth and tidied up your hair, finding it strange how there was a man only a few metres away from where you were currently standing. It was so unbelievably odd, waking up to breakfast, to a person. It was different, but the bubbling feeling in your stomach and the smile on your face - one you hadn’t forced either - upon seeing Lalo cooking away as though this house were his own was nice.

“Lalo, you really didn’t have to make my bed I-I could’ve done that just fine”

“Nonsense querida, you were busy getting all pretty for work, no? I always wondered how you did it,” he began, sighing. You tilt your head, as though to tell him you hadn’t really understood what he meant by that. “I’ve always wondered how you manage to look beautiful even in your work clothes, it’s just so effortless for you, isn’t it?” Lalo said that whilst wiping his hands together, he’s done now, and reaches for his jacket from the night before. You walk over and cup a hand to his cheek, pulling him down to your lips.

You keep him like that for a moment, and his hands move to your waist. There’s a hum from him, and your lips curve upwards against his. His moustache tickles a little beneath your nose. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, princesa.”

“I know… fuck… I hate that I have to go to work this early”

“I do too, but we better get going. If you’re late people will begin to suspect something… my tío will, anyway.. he’ll think I’ve stolen you from him”

You pick up your work bag and check if you have everything inside. You do, but freeze when Lalo mentions Hector. “He knows about this?”

Lalo shrugs, his shoes clicking against the floor as he makes his way to the door. “I haven’t said anything, but I think he knows. He’s… a pretty smart guy”

“Yeah, I gathered so, I’d love to talk with him”

Lalo chuckles, and it’s almost a scoff as you open the door and both step out into the warmth of the Albuquerque morning. “Nah, you don’t, he’d probably say something offensive or a stupid joke you wouldn’t get. Probably something about Americans.”

You blush slightly and nod, locking your door before joining Lalo by his side- making your way to his car which is still parked in the same place as it was yesterday. “I- not that he doesn’t like you.” He began, hands shoved into his pockets. “You’d know if he didn’t like you, he’s just like that with everyone… kinda… tough on the outside” he waves his hand, and you grin at him from behind your hand, your bags straps sit at your elbow, and it hangs down by your hip.

“I know, my grandpa can be like that… and my moms last couple of boyfriends.”

“You lived with your grandparents growing up?”

“Well, not really.” Lalo unlocks the car, and you step into your side. He shuts the door and you smile at him through the panel of glass keeping you apart.

When he’s seated alongside you, you continue, because he looks as though he’s still listening despite the conversation being momentarily interrupted.

“I went over every day after school and wound up staying until dark and then I’d walk home… probably couldn’t get away with that now with all the creeps around but… my mom was usually out with her boyfriends so I didn’t really have much of a choice.”

He hums, and you feel empty looking back at the memories of your youth. You always felt as though you’d wasted a majority of your childhood and adolescence. You had spent most of it taking care of your drunken father, so in a way it was stripped from you, but still, the pain was there. Like a cavity within your chest, it should have been filled with the happy memories of going out with friends and birthday parties. Though, most pleasant memories were tarnished by an explosive argument between your parents. Much like this conversation.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overshare”

He shook his head and placed a hand to your shoulder, a small smile curving against his lips, his moustache rising with the corners of his mouth. “Don’t ever apologise, you can talk about whatever you want with me hm? There’s no such thing as ‘oversharing’ with me querida.”

Despite his kindness, the pessimistic side of your psyche wondered whether or not the kindness in Lalo’s actions and words was to substitute for something much more sinister. Anyone normal would feel somewhat overwhelmed hearing all this, but Lalo didn’t seem phased whatsoever. Like he’d heard much worse, or experienced something as a child that had been just as bad - if not more terrible.

“You’re too kind to me Lalo, really, I don’t get you sometimes”

The elder man's smile remained, though he raised a brow as he started up the car “yeah? Well, most people don’t… but… you really don’t have to ‘get’ anything, I’m an open book”

“But…Sometimes even open books can be hard to understand if there’s a deeper meaning beneath the surface, don’t you think?”

He hummed at that, and brushed it off as though it were something that happened with everyone. By the time you got to work, you had a few minutes to spare. When you got out and turned to the entrance (he had parked- much to your distaste- at the very front of the building like a taxi would when dropping someone off) he rolled down his window, an arm leaning over the edge.

You sigh, and walk back over, leaning down with your hand against the doorframe. “Not even a goodbye kiss from my girl hm?” Lalo mused, and you rolled your eyes before leaning down and pressing a chaste, quick kiss to his lips. He followed by pecking your own a few times, his hand coming to your hair. You sigh against him, and keep your lips against his for a little longer. With your eyes closed and the sliding doors behind you, it’s almost easy to forget where you are.

But, inevitably someone clears their throat, it’s Jen, smoking a cigarette a few paces away. Her jaw slack.

You wipe the smudged lip gloss against the inside of your sleeve and bid Lalo another goodbye. He waves you off and beeps before reversing and turning out back onto the main road.

“What was that?” Jen finally manages, stubbing out a cigarette with her pumps. You scoff, “What was what?” the flush of your cheeks giving everything away. You didn’t even have to say anything incriminating, she knew exactly what was going on.

“I guess he’s not bad on the eyes, but perhaps a little old for you though?”

“Old… Lalo’s not old,” you rebuke her argument, and she laughs at how defensive you get over something so trivial as his age. “Besides we’re just friends”

Jen laughs out loud, walking with you through the front door and to the desk where you both sign in. Her messy signature scrawled beneath your own. “Yeah because I tongue all my friends in public, at WORK no less…, if management found out you were fraternising with a patient's nephew…” she hissed through her teeth, and you slapped her shoulder, not hard, but as if to tell her to lower her voice. “What’s he like anyway? I mean… lookin at him, he looks like he knows how to fuck. Maybe I’ll hit him up after you’re finished with him.”

“Jen, seriously? please don’t tell anyone, it’s nothing serious, he just… he just took me out for a meal to thank me for taking care of Hector, and the sex thing-“ you feel your cheeks and they’re hotter than they were before “we- we didn’t even do anything it was just dinner.”

“Ah so you’re on a first name basis with his relatives now too? Whatever happened to Señor Salamanca?”

“Oh it’s - he won’t be here long anyway… he’s only visiting whilst Hector gets better”

When you both reach the staff room, you place your things in the locker you’ve had since you’d started working at Casa Tranquila, and sanitise your hands with the small bottle you carry with you in your purse. “Yeah, if he gets better, the guys a veggie, he has one foot in the grave and the other on Stephen Hawking’s thro-“

BANG. the sound of metal against metal echoes around the quiet room, most of your coworkers have started their early duties… many of which involved cooking and serving the food to residents and waking those who haven’t already woken up.

“Can you shut up, don’t talk about Hector like that. What the fuck is wrong with you today, Jen?” For a moment, in your burst of rage, she looks shocked. But when that subsides your smoking buddy is overwhelmed by a hollow twang of fear that leaves her mouth dry and her palms sweaty. She hadn’t seen you burst like that before over a joke. “Damn okay, don’t have to get pissy about it… it’s just a damn joke”

“No Jen, I do.” You inhale sharply, as though to prepare yourself “I’m fucking sick of it, why do you think it’s okay to make jokes like that? He’s sick, god knows how terrifying it must be to-to not be able to do anything” Perhaps you’re not only angry about Jennifer’s incredibly ableist comment about Hector, but also iritatied by her constant interference with the personal life you’d only just begun living.

“My sex life is also non of your fucking business. I’m not friends with people like you, I don’t need friends that are horrible people. You give me cigarettes and I give you cigarettes” her jaw falls slack momentarily, as you continue with your monologue. “Our relationship is transactional, and if you think it’s anything more, then I’d get the doctor to take a look at your head, because that’s fucking delusional. You think you can talk about people like that and call yourself my friend? No way.”

“It was a joke-“

“A joke, not a joke, people say offensive shit all the time and use it being a ‘ joke ‘ as some sort of cheap cover up. If you’re going to be a prick, own it, because coming up with excuses like that makes you look absolutely pathetic.”

You think you see tears pool at the older woman’s waterline. She throws her stuff into her locker and sniffles against her sleeve. For a moment you feel bad,

but that brief moment of guilt is washed away when she storms off to go and wake up Sandy and Cheryl.

It’s a bit ridiculous, how Jen felt as though she could talk like that and not expect someone to say something. She’d been saying things like that about residents, Pearl, Dorothy, Stephen, for quite some time. It had been getting on your nerves for so long, but your growing nicotine addiction outweighed your courage to say anything. Though perhaps it had been your relationship with Lalo that made you feel so strongly about the way Jen had joked about Hector's state.

At 11, you found yourself once again sat by the elder Salamanca's side. Everything Lalo had told you about him at the park, the stories, they made you smile and filled you with a bittersweet sadness that he couldn’t elaborate himself. Supposedly, the man had once been quite wild, though a part of you wondered if that was before or after they’d established the family's restaurant business down in Mexico. It didn’t seem to fit Hector as well as it did Lalo, considering his amazing cooking skills. Perhaps he specialised in something else, and it were Lalo’s parents- his mother and father - that’d begun it. He never mentioned them, only ever talking about Hector. It made you curious, but at the same time you understood how painful it could be talking about family.

“Are you hungry? I can go and get you something to eat, breakfast didn’t look all that appetising today..” shifting forward in your seat, you place your book down and keep your eyes set on the elder Salamanca. Who shakes his finger over the bell for a few seconds before striking it. The sound echoed around the rec room, and you smiled, nodding. “It’ll probably have to be something soft, I hope you don’t mind… is that alright?” He rings again, his lips wriggling as he looks at you pleadingly behind his eyes. It’s hard to imagine that only a few decades ago this man was dunking his nephews heads underwater- a strange form of affection, but affection at that.

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

You ladle some birria for the old man and add a few herbs atop the chunks of soft veg that float on the surface. It smelled amazing, and your stomach even grumbles when you plug in the handheld blender and adjust the settings. The low buzz and vibration from the blender head when you apply pressure into the bowl reminds you of your phone, not the new one that Lalo had bought for you, but the one he had snapped and tossed to the back of his car. A fancier, much nicer car than the one you drove to and from work, day in and day out. The trill of the blender against the ceramic bowl for a second brings you back to that embarrassing moment where you broke down, and you feel your grip tighten. You rub your thumb against the tiny silicone mounds and even if you don't want to, with your other hand steadying the bowl, you imagine red. Red soup? Thick and churning in a bowl, little slug-like clots forming in the pool.

And then, as you stare out, a hand places itself upon your shoulder. “Hey, you okay? That soups starting to look like… well.. Dishwater”

It's Neil. You flash a smile up in his direction. It’s sweet, kind, and you even think you see him blush a little. Though that could just be a part of his naturally pasty, ruddy complexion.

“Actuallly, Neil, Birria is a sort of stew,” he rolls his eyes at your reply, “although i guess…” tapping the head of the blender against the rim of the bowl, you hand it to him and he graciously accepts. “ I guess this is more of a soup now… oh well,”

Neil chuckles and flicks some of the birria from his fingers, his laugh sounds a little forced, you think, as you grab a pinch of parsley and use it to garnish the surface of the birria-soup.

“I’m sure Salamanca won’t care, tastes good today I bet, Kev’s on cooking duty.”

“Yeah? Well that sounds swell, Neil.” you say, dismissively grabbing a silver spoon, tossing your head back in an attempt to move hair from your face. “Well, i’ll be seeing you”

You turn and start toward the swinging canteen doors, but he calls after you- even goes to grab your sleeve.

“wait - i- do you wanna go grab something to eat later? Dinner, maybe?”

For his own sake you stand and hum, thinking through your very scarce agenda for the evening. “I'm sorry Neil, I’m out tonight but maybe some other time, yeah?”

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

After spoon feeding Hector (which, to your dismay, you think he enjoyed a bit too much) you use the majority of your break to read more of ‘the count of monte cristo’, and the remaining quarter to text Lalo Salamanca.

‘Hey Lalo :) ‘

He replies relatively quickly.

‘Hola, querida, you good?’

As your eyes wander along the message, you smile to yourself- you can’t help it. Everytime you read his messages you can just imagine the deep rumbling of his voice, and even worse the feeling of your head against his chest.

‘Yeah just on break :)’

He doesn't reply for a bit, and instead, your phone goes off in the middle of the rec room. You silence it quickly, muttering ‘sorry’ beneath your breath to the few people sitting inside on such a hot day. Hector stares at you for a second too long, and you have a weird feeling from within your gut that he somehow knows what you and his nephew are up to, like Lalo said he sould. It was silly, really. How embarrassed and flustered you felt, but nonetheless, despite your age it did feel as though an adult had just walked in on you and your secret, ‘not-so-boyfriend’ boyfriend. You were 17 years old again, hiding away in your room holding hands beneath the covers.

Once having slipped through the back doors and into the smoking area, you lift the phone to your ear. He’s the first to speak, and the nerves from a moment ago instantly subside at the sound of his voice.

“Buenas tardes amor, how’re you hm? Bet tio has been keeping you on your feet”

“Well,” you begin, leaning up against the outside wall, a good few metres away from the rec room. “You’d be right, in his own way your tio keeps me very busy- almost like he doesn’t want me spending time with any of the other residents.”

Lalo chuckles, and mutters something fast in his native tongue that you don’t quite grab. “Ah same old tio, the guy can pick em’”

You laugh to yourself, although it's more of a huff as you bashfully straighten out your clothes to keep your hands busy. “Yeah? Well, i guess you two have a similar taste in women.”

“Hmm sorta, though i- he doesn’t like you in the same way i like you, i think.” you imagine Lalo scratching at his moustache as he speaks through the phone. “He just- he enjoys your company, no? And i mean… he may be paralysed but the guy isn’t blind, he can tell the.. What’s the saying again… the wheat..”

“Wheat from the chaff, i think is what you’re looking for, Lalo” you say, and he echoes it back. You can’t get over how animated he sounds, even through the phone.

“Si, niña inteligenteeee!… you’re speedy, huh? Gotta be all that reading you do”

You raise a hand and cup your cheek to find it warm - in spite of the shade in which you stand. You can hear his smile as he talks and visualise what he’s doing - probably cooking at the restaurant, maybe driving somewhere.

“I guess, you should let me read to you.. it might help you get a good night sleep, a few residents in here like when i read to them”

“Someones feeling cocky today, are you tryna call me old, again?”

fuck. “I didnt mean it like that-”

He bursts out laughing from his end, and you realise from yours how his laugh sometimes reminds you of a disney villain. Damn, if Lalo were a disney villain, he’d be a sexy one. “I’m just teasing you bebita… though you did say you like em old…”

Scoffing, you lean your head back against the wall “Not that old, Lalo.”

He’s silent for a moment and a quiet ‘yeah’ falls past his lips in a sigh.

“hey so i was wondering, princesa…” you grin at the nickname, cheeks flushed as you weave the ends of your hair between your fingers.

“How about you stay at my place tonight? I’ll cook dinner, we can watch one of those old movies… be nice, get to know each other a bit better”

You hum to yourself - as though you actually had to think about what the answer would be. “Hmm sure, I can do that… though first you’re gonna have to drop me back at my place so I can get my things ready”

“Not a problem, what do you want for dinner? I’ll have to go pick up some ingredients…”

“Surprise me”

A loud creaking sound erupted from behind you, and you watched as Neill wheeled out a few of the residents into the warm Albuquerque air. You waved a hand to him, as Lalo continued to talk from his end of the phone. You couldn’t quite pick up what he’d been saying, yet when you brought your attention back to him, he seemed almost aware of your distraction.

“You there?”

“Yeah sorry, just work… I might have to go but, I’ll see you later alright? Sorry I couldn’t talk for longer… gotta start preparing lunch for the rest of the residents”

Lalo hummed and you could feel the warmth of his smile through the receiver, his free hand gripping the leather wheel.

“Don’t apologise, hermosa. You’re a busy woman, I like that.”

You blush- biting at your fingernails as Lalo’s thick voice thaws at your burning anxiety- leaving you vulnerable in a similar way to how he had last night, with his head between your thighs.

“You’re too sweet Lalo… I’ll talk to you later,”

“Of course, hasta luego mi amor”

With that you hear the phone beep, just as Hector's pushed outside by Neil, you slip your phone into your pocket and straighten out your uniform.

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

You sent him a quick text once your shift was over. It was at times like this that you savoured your flexible hours and the fact you rarely - if ever - handled the Night Shift. Mainly because you thought it was unbelievably boring, but also because - despite the contents of your day - you enjoyed staying on your toes at all times. What was the point in working as a caretaker for the elderly if the elderly were all sleeping?

You’d been waiting outside Casa Tranquila for what felt like hours- but when you looked at your watch, it had only really been 15 minutes. Still, somewhat strange considering Lalo was almost always on time- sometimes even early just to surprise you - whenever he’d pick you up… like that time he took you to the park.

Having neglected your jacket at home, you retreated inside and sat in the waiting room- intended for visitors who had to sign paperwork of some sort before entering. It felt like it went unused a lot of the time, but for moments like this it helped.

Although, you’d much rather be sat in Lalo’s car, his hand on your thigh as he drove with such effortless skill through the streets of New Mexico.

It felt as though with every passing minute you looked to check your cell phone. It was new, so it’s not like you weren’t receiving his attempts to contact you, right?

At 8:45pm, your phone began to vibrate against your calf- which was now pulled up alongside the other on the cloth sofa. The LED call screen flashed up at your tired, sunken eyes: ‘unknown’ scrawled in pixelated letters that had your stomach drop to your feet.

Hesitantly, you flipped the cover and raised the cell to your ear- you couldn’t hear anything on the other side and instead hoped the stranger spoke up first.

“Hello?”

You swallow back the lump in your throat, the voice on the other end was gruff, they sounded almost angry, frustrated with you for something you were currently unaware of. “Hello? Who is this?”

“Nacho, its- it’s Nacho Varga- a friend of Lalo’s” you could have commented on the tone nacho used just now- as though he didn’t consider himself a friend of Lalo’s whatsoever- and far from it.

“Nacho, hey, is everything okay?”

There’s a pause before Nacho hums from his side of the phone and you know by the moment of silence - where the man on the other end tried to think of how to answer - that something must have happened.

“Nacho? What is it? Tell me I swear to god I’ve been-“

“Lalo, it’s Lalo. He’s in prison.”

#lalo salamanca x reader #better call saul x reader #eduardo ‘lalo’ salamanca x reader #lalo x reader #lalo salamanca #better call saul #breaking bad x reader #shades of cool chapter s(e)ix #shades of cool x reader

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asmodeusamaryllis · 7 months

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#mairimashita! iruma kun #welcome to demon school iruma kun #mairuma #m!ik #wtdsik #ix elizabetta #clara valac #my colourings #ignoring the canon colours from the recent chapter teehee

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bloodsalted · 1 month

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daryl digs a worm out of the ground and immediately eats it in front of him. he'll share if you want one, dean, all you have to do is ask.

you know what? he's not gonna say a god damn thing because if daryl answers him with dirt worm on his breath? he might just throw up. yep. gonna keep his mouth closed on that one. nice and tight. and look away so he doesn't visibly GAG more than he is inside his fucking SOUL.

congratulations, daryl. you made dean's soul gag.

#dean doing that URRRRPH HURRRRRRPH in his SOUL!#featuring: daryl dixon (aintashes)#aintashes #there's no humanity when the dead come back to feed you gotta fight em. (chapter ix)

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thisis-elijah · 1 year

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⸻ ST. UBALD ORPHANAGE; JULY 30, 1933. // @phasmophobie

Brütende Hitze suchte das Big Sky Country heim. Elijah lag unbekümmert in der neuen Hängematte, die seit zwei Wochen neuer Bestandteil des St. Ubald Waisenhauses war. Pavel hatte sich in den Schatten gesetzt, lehnte am festen Stamm der großen Eiche und las ein Buch. Beide genossen die Stille und auch, wenn sie nicht miteinander redeten, fühlte sich keiner von ihnen allein. Es war unüblich, dass sich nur zwei der insgesamt vierzig Burschen im Innenhof befanden, doch bis auf die beiden waren alle ausgeflogen. Als Strafe, dass sie sich am Vorabend rausgeschlichen hatten, durften sie an dem Ausflug in die Stadt nicht teilhaben, doch der Ältere der beiden konnte sich Schlimmeres vorstellen. Welch ein Hochgenuss es war, inmitten all der Geräusche in der warmen Sommersonne in den Himmel zu schauen, während die Blätter der großen Eiche über ihm Schattenspiele auf ihn warfen, den Wind im Gesicht zu spüren und die Augen geschlossen zu haben. Das Leben hatte nicht sonderlich viel zu bieten, aber Momente wie diese erinnerten ihn stets daran, wie schön die Banalitäten des Alltags sein konnten. Das Adoptiert werden war für beide Jungs in die Ferne gerückt. Solange sie einander hatten konnte es sogar unter der vermeintlichen Tyrannei von Mother Penguin schön sein. Zwei andere Nonnen und ein Priester waren ebenfalls hier geblieben, um ein Auge auf die Jungs zu haben, doch keiner von ihnen hatte sich innerhalb der letzten Stunden blicken lassen. Es war ein ungewöhnlich ruhiger Sonntagnachmittag.

"Your time's up", meldete sich Pavel irgendwann und Elijah öffnete ein Auge, sah zu dem Jüngeren hoch, der ihm in der Sonne stand. Er gähnte ausgiebig und kratzte sich verschlafen am Hinterkopf. In seinen Augenwinkeln klebte Schlaf, was grotesk wirkte, wenn man die Uhrzeit beachtete. All seine Bewegungen waren träge, aber das machte die Sonne nunmal. Er sah sich um und bettete seinen Kopf wieder auf seinen Arm, beide Augen wieder geschlossen. "They must've taken down the sign with the 10 minute rule", erwiderte er und konnte sich ein Lächeln nicht verkneifen. Einen Teufel würde er tun und diesen Komfort aufgeben. "There was never a sign in the first place. We've had a verbal agreement, Eli, there's no need for a sign." "Hm, can't remember I agreed on anything. I'm more of a sign guy." "We made a deal. 10 minutes each! That's why you went first!" Elijah sah zu wortlos zu Pavel hoch und machte sich einen Spaß daraus ihn zu ärgern. Kurzerhand stieg der Jüngere ebenfalls in die Hängematte und Elijah zog die Augenbrauen zusammen. "Don't?!" "Just move your fat ass!" Elijah hielt ihm einen Fuß ins Gesicht, woraufhin sich Pavels Mimik änderte und er das Gesicht verzog. "Take a shower, you stink like you died!" Der Brünette grinste breiter und musterte Pavel, der Mühe hatte eine angenehme Position in der Hängematte zu finden. In einem Moment der Unaufmerksamkeit nahm Elijah das Buch an sich und lehnte sich wieder zurück. "Give that back!" Elijah las die Zeilen des Buches quer, ehe er breiter auflächelte und zu seinem Gegenüber sah, den er mit seinem Fuß von sich weghielt. "If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger. What is that? Was that book written before fun was invested? You like in love or something?" "No..." "Damn, Pavel! I'm impressed, thought you gonna end up with one of the nuns here", stellte Elijah mit größtem Amüsement fest und sein Grinsen ging über beide Ohren. "Just give me the damn book back!", stritt der Jüngere vehement ab und schüttelte den Kopf, während er sich herüber beugte und dem Älteren das Buch wieder abnahm. "Now move!" Pavels Gesicht wurde rot, während er sich mühselig in der Hängematte arrangierte und weiterlas.

Auch, wenn keiner von ihnen in einer wirklich angenehmen Position lag, wurde es langsam wieder still zwischen den beiden. Irgendwann ging ein Mädchen im Alter der beiden durch den Innenhof. Sie folgte ihren Eltern, die von dem Priester über das Gelände geführt wurden. Vermutlich Sponsoren, denn sie sahen nicht so aus, als würden sie hier nach einem Kind suchen, was eine gute Partie für ihre Familie darstellte. Elijah musterte sie und trat Pavel leicht, dass auch er seine Aufmerksamkeit ihr widmete. Dann verschwanden sie wieder im Haus. Wäre der Ältere aufgestanden, um ihr hinterher zu gehen, hätte er seinen Platz in der Hängematte verloren. Die Damenwelt musste also noch warten. Er bettete seinen Kopf wieder auf seine Arme und schloss die Augen erneut. Dann schwiegen sie wieder. Für die Bedeutung und den Wert, den Elijah der Zeit beimaß war es nicht wichtig, ob die beiden still waren, sich kabbelten, oder ob sie ernstere Gespräche miteinander führten. Die Stunden und Minuten hatten für Elijah stets die gleiche Bedeutung, denn die Erinnerungen bewahrte er sich stets und schrieb sie abends nieder. Er söhnte sich mit der Zeit aus, die den beiden blieb. Das war das Wichtigste.

"You wanna get married someday?", brach Pavel dann irgendwann die Stille zwischen den beiden, ließ das Buch sinken und sah zu seinem Gegenüber, der seine Augen wieder geschlossen hatte. "I'm more into girls, sorry Pavel", lächelte Elijah auf und sah zu seinem einzigen Freund, der ihm gegen den Arm trat und seinen Kopf schüttelte. "I'm serious..." "Never really gave it a thought, but I think so? Everyone gets married, would be weird to deliberately not get married. You?" "Hm, I don't know... Do you think I'd be weird if I didn't get married?" "What, to like a woman?" Jetzt öffnete Elijah die Augen und sah zu Pavel gegenüber, neigte seinen Kopf leicht seitlich und zog seine Augenbrauen zusammen. Er ärgerte Pavel gerne, weil es kaum jemanden gab, der ihm fantastische Comebacks lieferte, wie er es tat, aber jetzt war er still geblieben. Irgendwas hatte sich im Blick seines Gegenübers geändert und er konnte nicht wirklich benennen was. Er wusste nicht, ob es Unsicherheit war, oder ob ihn da wirklich etwas Tieferes bewegte. Um den Jüngeren nicht zu verunsichern, antwortete Eli recht gelassen, lehnte sich wieder zurück und schloss seine Augen. "I'm kidding. I don't think you'd be weird. It's probably for the better. Heard most people are pretty unhappy in marriage." "Really?" "Yeah. Imagine having to share a bed for the rest of your life, or having some girl telling you, you have to shower because you smell like you died." Elijah schüttelte sich. "Nah. Now that you mention it, maybe you're my wife and I'm yours, because you too smell like you died and you should take a shower, too." Beide lächelten still und schwiegen kurz, ehe der Blick des Brünetten in Richtung der Tür ging. Eine der Nonnen betrat den Innenhof, ging auf die beiden Jungs zu und tadelte sie sogleich, dass die Hängematte nicht darauf ausgelegt war, dass sie zwei Halbstarke aushalten würde. "Elijah, come with me, please. There's someone who wants to see you."

Seine Wange schmerzte. Könne er sich selbst betrachten hätte er die roten Striemen gesehen, die die strenge Hand des Priesters hinterlassen hatten. Ein älteres Paar hatte das Waisenhaus aufgesucht. Sie arbeiteten in einem Zirkus, der die Sommer über durch die Lande zog. We wanted to have children for years, hatten sie gesagt, We'd love an active boy for our little family. Zu Anfang hatte Elijah aufrecht und in präsentabler Haltung auf dem Stuhl gesessen, während er den Erwachsenen zuhörte, wie sie miteinander redeten. So sehr er sich wünschte, er könne endlich weg von hier, umso mehr betrübte ihn der Gedanke, dass er mit diesen Menschen nach Hause gehen solle. Er ertrug den Gedanken nicht Pavel hier alleine zu lassen, insbesondere nicht im Sommer. So könne er ihn nicht einmal besuchen. "You've put shame upon this orphanage, Elijah. You're never going to find a family if you're behaving like that", hatte Father Gregory den Jungen ermahnt. Er kam aus dem Kopfschütteln gar nicht mehr heraus, woraufhin Elijah ihn still mit dem Straßenhund verglich, der sich oftmals auf dem Gelände herum trieb und immer so seltsam mit seinem Kopf wackelte. "You think this is funny?!", fuhr der Erwachsene den Jungen an und Elijah schwieg. Wer weiß welche Bestrafung ihm, bis auf die Tracht Prügel und keinem Abendessen, noch blühen würde. "Hey loser", rief Elijah über den Platz des Innenhofes. Auch, wenn Elijah die Worte des Priesters getroffen hatten, so kämpfte sich der Schein, den er Pavel gegenüber wahren wollte, immer wieder nach oben, so wie Öl in Wasser. Wenn er eine Disziplin beherrschte, dann war es gute Miene zum bösen Spiel zu machen. Der Jüngere hatte es sich in der Hängematte bequem gemacht, das Buch mit dem Buchrücken nach oben auf seinen Brustkorb gelegt, der sich hob und sank. Er öffnete ein Auge, schloss es dann aber wieder, als der Ältere über ihm stand. "Your time's up." "They must've taken down the sign with the 10 minute rule", erwiderte Pavel nonchalant und grinste selbstgefällig. Elijah musterte ihn, ehe er den Kopf amüsiert schüttelte und den Stoff der Hängematte griff, auf seiner Seite anhob, sodass der Jüngere recht unsanft auf den Boden fiel, ehe sich der Ältere wieder in die Hängematte legte, seine Arme unter seinen Kopf bettete und seine Augen schloss. "I was never much of a sign guy anyway."

#had this in my mind for two days now and i needed to write it down to function again #bb pavel and bb eli before everything went to shit :(#dies irae ⸻ »there are infinite universes waiting to be explored.« / * 𝐩𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥 #chapter ix ⸻ »all hope abandon ye who enter here.« / * 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 & 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 #me writing this instead of answering texts; STAY STRONG PLEASE #writingsfakevz

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