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eddiemunsons80sbaby · 4 months

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Everybody Hurts

Chapter 18

Pairing: EddieMunsonxReader

Summary: You needed to escape, escape from your life, your messy divorce, and all the pitying looks. Looks you couldn't ignore when everyone in town had known you and Cam, had known your shame and failure. So, you took the first job you could get, teaching third grade in a town called Hawkins. Little did you know, you were walking right into another messy situation, a messy situation with big brown eyes and long dark waves. But he's resistant, at times unbearable and you start getting curious about the town's past, his past, especially when things don't start adding up.

18+ Only for eventual smut

Next chapter: 12/27

Word Count: 7.9K

Masterlist

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

The following Friday, you rode from school over to Trusty Transmission, the garage where Eddie worked. You’d never been there before but this morning, as Eddie snuck up behind you, arms around your waist and gentle kisses against your shoulder while you were getting your coffee for work, he’d informed you that your car would be ready and asked if you could stop after work to pick it up.

He seemed pretty excited about it and honestly, so were you. You loved riding with Eddie but it would be nice to have your own set of wheels, a sense of independence to go wherever you wanted without having to make a call and ask a favor. Your bike worked for anything in town while the weather was nice but if you wanted to head to the city for anything, you would need a car or a ride.

You caught sight of Eddie’s van as you hopped off your bike, placing it in the rack just to the side of the entrance. The building sported brown siding with a red roof, the name across the front in red as well, and multiple garage doors out front for cars to be pulled in for service. To the left was a parking lot where, you assumed, cars waited for their turn. Being the only mechanic shop in Hawkins, it had to do decent business, leaving no one any other option.

As you pushed open the door to a world of dirt and oil and metal, you were pleasantly surprised to see the garage was bright and clean. Large windows along the sides allowed plenty of natural light to cover the space as well as intense fluorescent lighting overhead. A car lift sat in the center and mechanics covered in black grease worked on cars throughout the place with a sense of productivity. A faint smell of oil hit your nose while the sounds of motors and tools echoed loudly throughout.

“Hey there, sweetheart, can I help you?” asked a man in dark blue coveralls, wiping his hands on a rag as he approached. He looked to be about fifty, salt and pepper dotting his dark beard and short hair. His name, Dave, was stitched in red across the front.

“Yeah. I’m actually looking for Eddie.”

Eyebrows rose up in interest, an amused smile crossing his lips, “Oh, so you’re her.”

“Sorry? I’m who?”

“Munson’s girl,” he grinned knowingly. “The one he’s putting in all that free time for. The little Honda is yours, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” you nodded, heat warming your extremities. like sitting in front of a fire after hours in the cold, at being referred to as Munson’s girl. Did he talk about you like that at work? He had to have talked about you enough for this guy to think you were his girl.

“Man, he’s been working crazy hours to get that thing back in shape, staying long after his shift is over. You must be something pretty special for him to do all that work for free.” He laughed, shaking his head. “I never thought I’d see the day Eddie Munson finally settled down with one girl. I don’t know what the hell you’ve done to him, but it’s definitely for the better so keep it up, alright?”

“I…I’ll try,” you stammered. Had Eddie really spent hours working on the car? You’d just assumed it had taken so long because he’d fit it in where he could. Had it needed more work than he’d told you? You had never wanted him to give up that much time for you.

“Come on. Follow me,” Dave said, waving his hand and you trailed behind him, following him up to a black pick-up, familiar coverall clad legs with two black boots sticking out of the bottom. “Munson! You got a visitor!”

Fingers free from their usual chunky rings wrapped around the front bumper of the truck as he rolled out from beneath it. You were horrified when an audible whimper escaped from your lips at the sight of him. A black bandana was wrapped around the top of his head, smashing his bangs flat to his forehead, damp from sweat, the rest of his hair in a low bun to keep it out of his face while he worked. Grease stains, like strokes of paint crossed his cheeks. He was dirty and grimy and Jesus Christ, he was so damn hot. You wanted to pull those coveralls down and climb that man like a fucking tree.

“Prom Queen,” he grinned, catching sight of you, and you swore your heart would batter its way right out of your chest. “You made it!”

“Uh…yeah…I…I did…” you stammered. What the hell was wrong with you? You’d seen Eddie after work before. He often picked you up from school. But by that point, he had usually cleaned up, his hair was back down like usual, and the coveralls were gone. But for Christ’s sake, they were coveralls. They were literally called that because they covered it all so why were you so damn turned on?

“You wanna see it?” asked Eddie, hopping to his feet, eyebrows wiggling excitedly.

Yes. Yes you did, so goddamn much. Your eyes roved over his backside as he turned to set down the wrench and then pulled a rag from his back pocket, wiping his hands down before tucking it back in. Then this man had the audacity to undo the top buttons of the coveralls, dragging them down, allowing them to hang off of his waist before knotting the sleeves around the front.

“Fuck, it’s hot,” he muttered, the back of his forearm running across his forehead.

“Y…yeah…”

Eddie’s head turned slowly, a wicked smile curving his lips up on one side like a semi-colon when he caught you, panting after him like a dog in heat. You swallowed, surprised your tongue wasn’t hitting the floor. He stepped into you, invading your space with the tang of mechanical parts, the smoky aroma of the Camels he smoked, and the delicious damn musk that was just essentially him all the time.

Head tilting, his fingers grabbed onto a lock of your hair, working it between the pads, “See something you like, sweetheart?”

You nodded, “Very much.”

He chuckled, the sound like a shockwave straight to your center as he leaned in close, nose coasting along the skin of your cheek, lips tickling the shell of your ear, “Fuck, the way you’re looking at me right now, I want to kiss you breathless but I don’t want to get you all dirty.”

“I don’t mind dirty,” you whispered, eyes slipping closed.

“Mmm, that’s right. My girl likes to be dirty for me, doesn’t she?”

There it was again. His girl. The very sound of those words rolling off his tongue, his nose brushing your skin, did things to you that you could not begin to describe because they were things you had never felt before in your life. You considered yourself a feminist. You didn’t belong to anyone but yourself but fuck, when he said that, it was a sledgehammer crashing through everything you’d once thought about yourself because you wanted to be his, completely.

“Yes…” you breathed, losing sight of everything else but him. There were no sounds, no smells, nothing but Eddie.

“As much as I want to bend you over the hood of this truck right now, I don’t like to share. Can’t have the other guys getting a look at what is for my eyes only.”

You blinked, eyes going wide, suddenly remembering that you were not alone. You were in the garage, in the middle of the day, surrounded by his co-workers. What in the hell were you doing? Seriously, this man made you lose all self-control. The old you never would have let yourself get like this out in public. Of course, Cam had never given you a reason to feel like this anywhere, not even in the privacy of your own bedroom.

“Shit. Yeah. Sorry. Obviously, you don’t want to kiss me or anything in front of all the guys at work. I…anyway, didn’t you want to show me the car?”

Eddie’s tongue ran over his lower lip before he gently pulled it between his teeth, his hand cupping your jaw as his thumb ran across your cheekbone. He smiled, soft and warm, a cozy blanket cocooning you, and then leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. It wasn’t the all consuming kiss your body craved, the kiss that made you feel like he was devouring you, taking every breath from you until you were left fighting for air. It was tender and sweet, like a hug when you needed one the most, chicken noodle soup when you were sick, it was happiness in the form of a kiss.

“Darling, I don’t give a shit if all these guys see me kissing you,” Eddie told you, his fingers winding through yours. “They’ll just know how very sexy and hot as fuck my girl is. Let ‘em wish they could only be half as lucky as me.”

With a wink, he pulled you behind him, smirking at his co-workers as they watched the two of you with interest as you headed out of the building and into the lot that you had seen when you first arrived. You made your way past a handful of cars in various states of repair before he swung his arm wide to display your little Honda.

Your jaw dropped open, “Eddie…oh my god…this isn’t…is this even the same car?”

“Yep. Same old beater my uncle’s had for years but all fixed up now. I replaced the head gasket, sealed up the oil pan, put in a new battery, and got you some brand new tires.”

“But the paint…it’s…it looks brand new.”

The little Honda absolutely shined candy apple red under the glare of the afternoon sun. The rust spots were long gone. It no longer looked like a used car that needed love. It looked like it had just been driven off the lot. You couldn’t believe the amount of work he must have put in.

Eddie’s lips pressed together as he toed the gravel of the lot with the tip of his steel toed boot and shrugged, “It was just some paint. Not a big deal, really.”

“But it is a big deal,” you told him, beaming from ear to ear. “It’s a very big deal. I never expected you to put so much time into it. I…Eddie, I don’t know how to ever thank you for this. It looks amazing.”

He smirked, lips pouting preciously to the side as he took a step into you, backing you into the car, “I mean, I could think of a few things.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. How about you come to my place tonight?” he suggested and your heart skipped a beat.

“Really?”

He hadn’t invited you to his place yet and you hadn’t wanted to be pushy. He’d been staying over at your place quite a few nights and that was wonderful. But you couldn’t deny that you were dying to see where he lived, where he called home, to get a close-up look at all the personal pieces of Eddie.

“Really.” His hands covered your hips, pulling your body flush against his. “I can make you dinner and maybe we can come up with a way for you to show your undying gratitude.”

“You’re going to make me dinner?” you asked, surprised.

“Please. Don’t sound so shocked. I’m a grown man. I’ve been on my own for eight years. I think I can manage to cook something. It might not be fancy but I know the basics of working a stove.”

“Well, okay then. You know, I think a man cooking is very sexy.”

“Oh, do you? Maybe I’ll have to whip out my apron.”

“As long as that’s the only thing you’re wearing,” you teased, palms resting against his firm chest, knowing you were probably getting grease stains all over your clothes but not caring in the slightest.

“I am a very bad influence on you,” Eddie growled, his tongue darting along your lower lip, causing you to gasp.

“Very,” you agreed huskily, hands running down, over his stomach and hips, slipping into the back of his coveralls to squeeze his denim covered ass.

“Son of a bitch,” he grunted, forehead pressed against yours. “You are trouble. You’re going to get me fired, woman. The boss won’t think highly of me fucking you on top of a car in the parking lot.”

You giggled, “Guess I should get going then.”

Eddie reached into his pocket, holding up your keys, “Take your brand new car. I’ll bring your bike back to my place and I’ll see you later, okay? I get off at five and we can continue this then.”

“Can’t wait,” you grinned, kissing him once more before you pranced excitedly to your new set of wheels, causing that rumbling laugh from Eddie that you loved so much.

___________________________________________________________

The warm breeze of the day swept through the car as you drove home. You’d laughed when you’d turned the car on to find AC/DC playing, a little surprise from Eddie. The cassette case sat on the passenger seat, a note from him in black Sharpie that read, Because you can not only name three songs but could write their memoir.

Along with that cassette, he’d included a bunch more ranging from Whitney Houston to Metallica to Tupac, another note sat with those, reading, For my girl who appreciates true talent. Your stomach flipped over again at those two small words, my girl, pleased at the way they sounded, at how it felt to be Eddie’s, to feel like he was proud to show you off, to let everyone know you were together. Maybe it wasn’t very strong woman of you but you didn’t care. You could be a strong woman while enjoying belonging to someone.

You would never make yourself less than for anyone else. You would never forget yourself in your efforts to keep someone else happy. You’d done that for far too long in your relationship with Cam. Maybe you felt so lucky that a guy like him had ever noticed you. Maybe deep down you didn’t feel like you could ever do better than Cam. But you knew now that he wasn’t the perfect guy you’d thought he was and you definitely knew you could do better because you already had. Cam wasn’t in the same ballpark as Eddie. Hell, he wasn’t even in the same time zone.

Eddie stirred feelings within you that you hadn’t known you could experience. He made you feel wanted, desired, and taken care of. You would never be able to truly convey how much it meant to you that he had put all that work into fixing the car, that he’d even taken the time to fill it with cassette tapes he thought you’d like.

Cam was all about grand gestures, buying you a piece of jewelry or taking you out to the most expensive restaurant. But life wasn’t about the grand gestures because those came far and few between. It was about the little things, like leaving cassette tapes, getting your coffee ready in the morning, leaving you a little note to find in your teacher bag when you got to school that read, I’ll be missing that beautiful face until tonight. Those kinds of gestures cost nothing but meant so much more.

Especially considering that now, looking back, you were certain that most of those gestures were done from a place of guilt. Cam had been trying to cover his own ass, to keep you from becoming suspicious of his extracurricular activities, his late nights at work, his out of town meetings. And it worked. For far too long, you hadn’t questioned a thing, believing your marriage was rock solid when, in reality, it had been on shaky ground for years.

Cassie was probably not the only one. You remembered catching him kissing Rachel Litmore at one of his friends, Timmy's, epic parties. You’d been looking for him and what do you know? There he was, in the backyard, the two of them pressed together against the big oak tree, his tongue down her throat.

Oh, he’d promised you that it had meant nothing. He’d been so drunk. Rachel had tricked him. He was too intoxicated to know what was going on. Hell, he’d even said that he thought it was you. Bullshit. It was all bullshit. It had always been bullshit and you should have seen that way back then, long before you ever walked down the aisle and promised in front of all of your friends and family that you would spend the rest of your life with him.

But no, you’d convinced yourself that it was a mistake. Cam loved you. Of course he did. He always told you how much you meant to him, how you were the only one. You didn’t think that had ever been the case. How many more had there been for the man who always had to feel like the most important person? How many women did it take to satiate his need to feel desired?

You pulled into your driveway, pushing those thoughts away because Cam was your past and Eddie was your present. You hoped he would be your future, too, and you didn’t want to dwell on what had been. You wanted to dream about what could be.

Making your way to the mailbox, you pulled the front open, reaching in to grab the stack of envelopes. Leafing through them, you headed up onto your porch, unlocking the door, dropping your backpack just inside. Walking into the kitchen, you dropped the envelopes on the counter as you looked through, pausing when you saw a cream color envelope with your name and address embossed on the front.

You slid your finger under the flap, breaking the seal, slowly exposing the thick cardstock inside. Beautiful pale blue paper with silver writing:

Ms. Cassie Jones and Mr. Cameron Campbell request the pleasure of your company at their nuptials

Saturday, the 21st of September

1 o’clock in the afternoon

The words began to blur in front of you, your stomach rolling sickly. Your fingers opened, the invitation slipping from them and onto the counter. A throbbing began behind your eyes and you slipped them closed, inhaling slowly through your nose in an effort to keep your lunch from coming back up. You splayed your hands flat on the counter, your entire body trembling with rage at the cruelty of two people you once would have called the most important people in your life.

You snatched the phone off the wall, punching in your sister’s number. Kim would know what was going on. In fact, you couldn’t believe she hadn’t told you about it when you’d spoken a few days ago. Why wouldn’t she warn you that this was coming? A heads up would have been appreciated instead of the gut punch you received when you opened that envelope, just another blow dealt by them. As if running you over hadn’t been good enough, they just had to put the car in reverse and crush you all over again for good measure. Make sure they didn’t miss any pieces on their way to their happily ever after.

“Hello?” came Kim’s voice down the line, slicing through the fog of disbelief and anger.

“Kim?”

“Sis?”

“How could you not tell me this!?” you demanded, fingers wrapped around the cord so tightly that the rubber was digging into the tender flesh of your hand.

“Tell you what?”

“That Cam and Cassie are getting married in a few months!”

“What!?” You yanked the phone from your ear at your sister’s earth shattering shriek. “What in the hell do you mean they’re getting married? How do you know?”

“I got a goddamn invitation in the mail today!”

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me. That is so fucking low,” seethed Kim. “Just when I thought they couldn’t sink any further into the muck, they prove me wrong.”

“Do they really expect me to attend this thing?”

“No! Obviously not. They don’t actually want you to come. They just wanted to rub it in your face. Look at how happy we are since you left. I’m sure Cassie is just tickled, showing you that he actually loves her because he’s marrying her. Well, newsflash to that trashy bitch, he married you too. It’s only a matter of time before he gets bored and does the same shit to her. Jesus Christ, the ink on the divorce papers is barely dry. Those two didn’t waste a minute and in a few months? They must have already been planning this thing because you know Cam isn’t doing anything small. He never passes up a chance to show off.”

“I…I don’t understand any of this. Why do they keep wanting to hurt me? I’m not the one who did the betraying here!”

“Because they’re in denial. They don’t want to be the villains in this story so now they can say, see, we’re in love. We’re so in love that we couldn��t help our feelings. We’re getting married and spending the rest of our lives together. We didn’t want to hurt anyone. We both love her but the heart wants what it wants. We even invited her to the wedding but she just can’t find it in her heart to forgive us.”

“No. How could I…how could they…Jesus Christ! How could anyone actually expect me to show up to this thing? They really think I would come, sit and watch the two people who stabbed me in the back pledge their lives to each other, and be happy for them?”

“No. Look, I’m not saying any of it makes sense. But this stinks of two people who are doing everything they can to rid themselves of their guilt, make themselves feel better about the shitty things they’ve done. You know what you should do? You should show up. They’d never expect that,” Kim snorted.

“Are you insane? Kim, I am not going to their wedding. The very thought makes me want to puke.”

“Yeah, but just think about it. They’re trying to rub it in your face that they are so happy while picturing you all alone, miserable, crying your eyes out. But you’re not. Show up with your new man. Show them how you’ve moved on, how you don’t need them. Show them how they haven’t taken anything from you and, in fact, your life is better off now. Show Cam exactly what he lost, what he chose to throw away in exchange for that inferior piece of garbage he’s got now.”

“Kim, no. I can’t do that.”

Your sister made a sound as if trying to dislodge a hairball, “And why the hell not?”

“Because it’s petty.”

“They’re petty! You don’t have to go and be a bitch. You just go and smile and hold your head high. You don’t even have to talk to them. But, come on, just imagine them up there, stumbling through their vows as they try to ignore that you’re sitting right there. Imagine Cam fumbling through his words because he can’t get over how you’re so much hotter than Cassie and what the hell was he thinking? Imagine him losing his mind because your new guy is so much hotter than him.”

“You don’t even know what Eddie looks like,” you sighed.

“I don’t have to. I’ve heard you talk about him. Am I wrong?”

Your cheeks blazed with heat, your teeth worrying over your bottom lip, “No. You’re not wrong.”

And it was true. Cam had nothing on Eddie. Those steel gray eyes couldn’t hold a candle to Eddie’s, like deep pools of top shelf whiskey that she wanted to drown in. His close cropped blond hair could not compete with Eddie’s soft, tousled waves. Cameron Campbell did not come close to Eddie Munson, not even in the same universe.

“Talk to Eddie. From the way you’ve described him, I bet he’d find an opportunity like that quite fun,” your sister chucked. “Oh, what I wouldn’t give to see that.”

“Cam wouldn’t know what to do with a guy like him.”

“But I bet you do,” cackled Kim.

“You’re so wrong,” you laughed, shaking her head. “You enjoy revenge just a bit too much.”

“No. I enjoy revenge on people who hurt my sister. That’s my job, babe. Nobody messes with my family.”

“I love you, psycho.”

“Love you too, pushover.”

“Alright, speaking of my new man, I have to get going. He’s making me dinner tonight at his place and I have to get ready. Oh, and I get to drive my new car over there. He got it all fixed up and gave it a new paint job. You wouldn’t believe it if you saw the before and after. It looks brand new!”

“Sis, I am so happy for you. Eddie sounds like an amazing guy. He’s already done more for you in a few weeks than Cam did in a decade. I can practically hear the happiness radiating off of you over the phone. You deserve this, sis. Seriously.”

“Thanks. I am pretty happy.”

“So, when are you bringing him home so we can meet him?”

“Kim, I gotta go.”

“Hey! When do I get to meet this tall, dark guitar player?”

“Love you, Kimmy. Bye.”

“Don’t you hang up!”

___________________________________________________________

“Welcome to my castle, fair maiden!” Eddie bellowed loudly as he swung the door open to his place, ushering you in with a dramatic sweep of his arm.

A loud laugh erupted from you as you saw he had actually donned an apron for the occasion. It read It’s no sin to get my sauce on your chin, with a saucepan and spoon full of liquid. Of course Eddie would have an apron like that.

“Love the apron,” you told him, dropping your purse onto a chair just inside the door.

“Yeah?” Eddie’s teeth flashed brilliant white. “Well, if you like my spaghetti sauce, you’ll absolutely love…” He brought both hands down in front of him just in case you didn’t get the very obvious meaning behind the message.

“Got it, thanks.”

He shrugged as he waved and you followed him into the kitchen, “You’re the one who said you wanted to thank me for the car. I mean, that would be an excellent show of gratitude.”

“Duly noted,” you chuckled, leaning over the pot simmering on the stove, inhaling the aroma of spices. “This smells amazing. Is that…did you make spaghetti sauce?”

“I did,” he stated, folding his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the counter. “I learned from my Uncle Wayne. He’s not a gourmet chef or anything but he can whip up a few things and his spaghetti sauce is way better than some Ragu from a jar.”

Your eyes moved around the house, eager to soak in as much detail as you could about the man in front of you. This was his sanctuary, his space, and you were itching to see what treasures you would come across in here that might give you just a little more of a peek into the enigma that was Eddie.

“Your house is nice,” you commented. “Want to give me a tour?”

Eddie pushed off the counter with his hands, “Okay. The bread’s got about six more minutes and the sauce needs to simmer a bit. Well, kitchen as you can see. You walked through the living room when you came in.” He moved through the archway of the kitchen. “Dining room and there’s a half bath just down that hall, along with the door to the garage.” Taking your hand, he led you up the stairs, pushing open a door to the right. “This is a bedroom but I use it for my instruments and amps and shit for now. Across the hall is another bedroom where I stuck my old bed from the trailer. Occasionally, if one of the guys gets shitfaced or something they’ll crash. Next to that is the bathroom and then…” He pushed open the last door on the right. “This is my room.”

Your hand curled around the frame of the door as you looked inside. The bed was covered in a black blanket. The walls were a deep red where they weren’t covered in posters of various metal bands from Iron Maiden and Black Sabbath to Judas Priest and Metallica. A large Corroded Coffin banner hung along one wall, a dark red guitar with crackles of black paint proudly displayed underneath. You slowly stepped inside, making your way over to it before turning back to him.

“Is this guitar special? Do you still play it?”

Eddie’s hand came to the back of his neck, rubbing, “No. I don’t play that one anymore. It uh…it kind of saved lives, I guess. I don’t know. It just felt wrong to play it anymore but it also felt wrong to get rid of it so it sits there.”

You glanced over your shoulder, confused. “The guitar saved lives?”

“I mean, yeah? Kind of. I don’t know. I guess maybe I did it because I was the one playing it but it…you know, I really should go check on that sauce. Red is a bitch to get out when it boils over.”

He turned on his heel and walked out suddenly, leaving you standing in his bedroom. You looked around you, wanting to stay, to get a closer look at all the things on his nightstand and his dresser. But it would be weird if he went downstairs and you just remained up there. He would definitely think you were snooping. So, with a sigh, knowing you’d gotten a small piece of a much larger picture once again, you followed him back down and into the kitchen.

Eddie turned his head at the sound of your feet across the linoleum floor. With a smile, he gestured for you to sit at the dining room table, a small round wooden table with four chairs. The top looked like it had been well-loved, possibly a hand-me-down, notches dug deep into the wood in places. Your finger ran along one, feeling suspiciously like it could fit one of Eddie’s large rings. You imagined him sitting in this exact spot, anxiety running through him as he tapped or pounded his finger against the tabletop.

“Your house is really nice,” you commented when Eddie approached with a big plastic bowl covered in a towel.

He snorted, “Thanks, I guess.” He shrugged, calling over his shoulder as he headed back into the kitchen, scooping pasta and then sauce onto a plate. “I mean, I don’t really have that Home and Garden vibe going on but it works for me. You know, if you’re into nerdy shit, heavy metal, and thrifting for furniture.”

“Oh, I love thrifting!” you exclaimed just as he was setting one plate in front of you and another across from you. “You can find really great stuff that other people just planned to toss out in the trash.”

“Well, that explains it!” Eddie proclaimed with a chuckle. “Wine, beer, water, or pop?”

“Umm, wine if you have it.”

“White, okay? It’s just the box shit. I keep it around for the girls.”

“Fine with me.” He made his way back into the kitchen so you called loudly, “And explains what?”

“Why you’re into me,” he answered, setting a glass in front of you before taking the seat across from you. Eddie lifted his fork, twirling pasta onto it and shoveling it into his mouth with a smile, his eyes lighting up mischievously. “I’m the definition of thrift store, baby. I’m the trash that was sitting on the side of the road and you decided to save me from the dump and load me in the back of your car.”

“Eddie…” you groaned, sipping on your wine. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” he asked through a mouthful of garlic bread.

“Talk about yourself like that, like you’re not worthy, like you’re not an absolute find. You’re not garbage. And if you are thrift store, you’re the priceless antique that someone tossed in the pile without realizing its true value. And I am thankful that they did because then I just happened to get lucky enough to find you.”

“Damn sweetheart, you’re gonna make me blush.”

“I’m serious. Eddie, you know, if you would just tell me what happened back then then maybe I could…”

His fork hit the plate with a clatter and he sat back, dropping his napkin in his lap, “Prom Queen, we talked about this. I can’t tell you that. I will tell you anything else you want to know but not that, baby. You told me you could handle not knowing everything.”

“No, I know I did,” you said quickly, bringing your glass to your lips, taking a long swig. “And I can. It’s fine. I just thought…never mind.” It wasn’t fine but it had to be. Eddie wasn’t going to share with you. You swallowed down another drink of wine, pushing back the disappointment. “Anyway, I got an invitation to Cam and Cassie’s wedding today in the mail.”

Eddie sputtered, almost showering you with his beer. His hand came to his mouth, he swallowed slowly, and set the bottle down onto the table. Folding his hands, he leaned in, that little furrow appearing between his eyebrows.

“Are you shitting me?”

“Nope. Not shitting you. They’re getting married on September 21st. Didn’t want to waste any time I guess.”

“Those fucking assholes. Jesus, that’s goddamn low, man. I can’t believe they had the balls to send you an invitation.” His fist slammed down onto the wood, the plates clattering, you jumping. That same hand instantly opened, reaching over the table to cover yours, thumb running over the back of it soothingly. “Sorry. I’m sorry. That just pisses me the hell off. I just, Jesus, are you okay?”

You shrugged, offering a small smile, “Yeah? No? I don’t really know.”

Eddie’s head tilted forward, eyes trying to catch yours, his own wide, almost vulnerable as he asked softly, “Do you still love him?”

“No,” you stated, shaking her head. “No. Any love I felt for him died as soon as I realized he’d been cheating on me for a year. It’s not that. I mean, I will always care about both of them in some weird twisted way because they were such a large part of my life for so long. But it’s not even that. It’s just that I don’t understand how two people who I trusted with everything, two people who I thought cared about me, loved me, are so willing to hurt me again and again. They claimed they couldn’t help their feelings but to send me an invitation? To rub it in my face that they’re together and happy after everything? Why?”

“To make themselves feel better. To say, see, we’re not the assholes everything thinks because we’re in love. And to say they invited you but you couldn’t be the bigger person and come, which is all a bunch of bullshit and anyone with half a brain cell could figure that out.”

Your fingers ran over your brow bone as you chuckled, “You sound like my sister. Kim said something very similar.”

“Sounds like a smart girl.”

“I don’t know about that. She also said I should go and take you as my date to rub it in their faces.” You rolled your eyes, guffawing at the very idea, finishing off the last of your wine. “Can you imagine?”

Those plush lips pooched out as he raised his hand up, finger pointing directly at you. You did not have a good feeling about whatever was going to come out of his mouth next.

“Actually, I think that’s a damn good idea,” Eddie said, only proving your fears correct. “I say we do it. Why not? I think I have a suit jacket up in the closet from…well, a funeral. Let’s do it. Let’s go and have the best damn time. Why not?”

“Why not? Eddie, are you kidding me? There are a million reasons why not.”

“Like what? Because he’s an asshole? Because she’s a raging bitch? Because they wouldn’t like it if we were there? Well, maybe they should have thought about that before they invited you.”

You rose from your chair, coming around the table, placing your hands on his shoulders, “Eddie, they did not actually want me to come. We both know that.”

“They sent the invitation,” he sang, his chair moving along the floor with a scrape as he pushed back from the table. Large hands covered your hips, pulling you into him. “Besides, I really do want you to come.” There was that mischievous grin again. “I mean, it’s vitally important to me.” Those hands traveled, cupping your breasts as he rose to his feet. “Maybe the most important thing to me.”

“Eddie…” you breathed when one of his hands slid into your hair, tangling the locks between his fingers, tugging it back. His nose and lips moved up the side of your neck.

“Come on, Prom Queen,” he urged, rocking his hips forward, his already hard length providing sweet pressure that had you moaning. “Let’s go to that wedding.” Teeth scraping the skin of your jaw, hand kneading the fleshy mound of your breast through your top. “Let him see how stupid he is.” A nip at your earlobe, tongue slipping along the shell of your outer ear. “Let me show him how very glad I am that he’s so fucking dumb.” Fingers slipping underneath your top, dragging over your stomach, pinching your nipple between his fingers until you cried out. “Because now this is all mine.”

Then your shirt was off and his lips were claiming yours, tongue dominating yours, hands massaging your breasts. You groaned, the sound swallowed, hands gripping the lean muscles of his biceps as you met his kiss with the force of the desire currently pulsing between your thighs. You rose onto your toes and Eddie’s hands came to your waist, lifting you up, your legs wrapping around his waist.

Fevered kisses, gasped breaths, and then you were on your back on his couch and his lips were everywhere, your body buzzing, nerve endings burning, held open to the open flame that was Eddie’s lips, tongue, and teeth. His hands grabbed onto the waist of your shorts, pulling them slowly down your legs, that beautiful mouth worshiping every single inch of skin as it was exposed.

Kisses to your ankle, your calf, his hand wrapping around it and nudging it over until it landed on the floor, opening you to him. You groaned roughly when his mouth laid over your lace panties, a slow exhale, warm breath brushing over your most sensitive parts. Your hand tangled in his long locks, pulling his head back and away.

Eddie’s eyes, molten chocolate, burned into yours as that lower lip jutted out in the sweetest little pout, annoyed that he had been stopped. You rose up onto your knees, grabbing onto the hem of his shirt, yanking it over his head. Your hand came to his chest, pushing him back against the arm of the couch.

“What did you stop me for, baby?” he growled, his finger hooking into your panties, pulling you toward him. “I was gonna make you feel good, make you forget all about those assholes.”

“Mmm, and I am looking forward to that, but I believe I still owe you a thank you for the car,” you reminded with a smile, your fingers working his belt buckle, coming free with a clink as you slid it from his jeans, holding it up and dropping it to the floor with a thud.

“Oh yeah?” One eyebrow raised, those lips curving up on one side as you unbuttoned his pants, the purr of his zipper as you slid it down.

Eddie lifted his hips as you grabbed onto the loops of his jeans, pulling them down and off, leaving them in a heap on the floor, quickly followed by his boxers. Sitting back on your heels, your tongue ran along your bottom lip as you took in the sight of his engorged cock, the tip glistening with wetness already as he sat, one leg against the back of the couch and one on the floor, spread and ready for you.

“Like what you see, baby?” mused Eddie, head shifting to the side, brown locks falling across his face, those deep brown eyes watching you intently.

“Very much.”

You settled yourself on your stomach between his legs. Reaching out, you took his length in your hand, velvet fingers moving along his rigid shaft. Eddie’s eyes fluttered shut at your touch.

“Fuucckk…” he groaned.

“Feel good?” you inquired, your grip becoming firmer as you pumped him with your palm.

“So good, sweetheart…so fucking good…”

Bolstered by his reaction, you flicked your tongue across the tip, delighting in the hiss from between his teeth that followed, his hips bucking up, reactively searching for your mouth. Keeping your hand around the base, you wrapped your lips around him, working as much of him as you could inside the warmth of your throat.

“Jesus Christ, yeah, baby. Just like that,” Eddie praised, bucking up and into your mouth, sending the tip of him hitting the back of your throat until you gagged. “Love that goddamn mouth. Looks so pretty wrapped around my cock, princess.”

You hummed around him as his fingers dove into your hair, guiding you up and down. Wetness pooled in your panties, pleasure racing through you at the knowledge that you could make him feel this good. You’d never had a man react to your touch the way Eddie did and you found it was a powerful aphrodisiac. You swore you could get off just from the sounds that you were capable of drawing out of him. You just wanted to make him moan, growl, and curse again and again.

You released him from your mouth to run your tongue along the underside, the thick vein that ran there. Continuing to work him in your hand, you lifted his cock up just enough and then you did something you’d never done before. Hesitantly, you ran her tongue over one of his testicles.

“Jesus fuck!” Eddie cried out, his entire body tensing for a moment. “Fuck baby, do it again.”

You eagerly complied with his command before taking one of the heavy sacs into your mouth carefully, remembering your friends talking about how sensitive they were, how guys loved ball play but you had to be gentle. The sounds that Eddie was currently making let you know that whatever you were doing was right as you sucked softly before showing the other one the same attention.

“You’re like goddamn magic…jesus…fuck me…baby, I’m so close…” he gasped, guiding your mouth back to his cock.

You took his length in again, hollowing out your cheeks. Your hands came to his thighs, the muscles tense under your grasp. Eddie’s hips rocked helplessly, his head collapsed back against the arm of the couch, sweat slicked tendrils of hair sticking to his forehead and cheeks. He looked so goddamn beautiful on the verge of losing control and all because of you.

“Fuck yes. Don’t stop, baby. Don’t stop. Right there. Jesus. Fuck. Shit. Oh my god,” Eddie muttered, his grip on your hair tightening as he roared, back arching up and off the couch before he painted your throat with his release. “Holy shit…that was…holy shit…”

You smirked, swallowing him down, before crawling up his body. Hovering over him, you tenderly pushed pieces of hair from his face, your heart aching at the sight of him, completely blissed out, peaceful, happy, a small smile on his lips as he looked up at you.

“You are so beautiful,” you whispered, thumb tracing his bottom lip.

“I thought we went over this,” Eddie teased. “Sexy, sweetheart. I’m sexy. It’s much more manly.” He snatched your hand in his, pressing his lips to your fingertips. “But thank you. Now, I have something that I started before I was so rudely interrupted that I am dying to finish.”

“Oh, by all means, don’t let me stop you,” you laughed.

“Sweetheart, the goddamn U.S. Army couldn’t stop me.”

He leaned into you until you had no choice but to lie back on the couch, his lips claiming yours once again. Calloused fingers, a guitar player’s fingers slid along your skin, down your side to hook into your underwear.

Just as Eddie was dragging the lacy fabric over your hip, the entire room lit up with a flash of lightning that was quickly followed by a rumble of thunder so loud that it shook the house. It took you a moment to realize that Eddie was frozen, his hand on your outer thigh, and that hand was trembling.

“Eddie?” you asked softly, your own hand cupping his cheek, turning his head to you.

His eyes were wide, no longer molten chocolate, those brown pools were defenseless with fear. Plush lips were parted, quick ragged breaths sounding between them. You didn’t know how you knew but you knew he was back there, wherever there was, the place of his nightmares and something about the storm had set him off.

“Eddie? Hey. It’s okay,” you assured, sitting up, your arm coming around him, his body shaking, like the lone leaf on the tree, fighting to survive the bitter winter wind.

You pulled him to you, his body collapsing against yours as if he were a rag doll, an inanimate object incapable of movement. You snatched the blanket off the back of the couch, wrapping it around the two of you. Just holding onto him, you rocked gently back and forth in an attempt to soothe whatever was aching in him.

Eddie whimpered, soft moans, his eyes slipping closed, head shaking back and forth. He was scaring you, again, but you knew you wouldn’t get anything out of him now. He was in the midst of it, all but gone to you, his body was with you but his brain was somewhere else entirely.

“It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you. You’re safe. I’ve got you,” you repeated again and again, trying anything you could think of to make whatever this was better for him.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”

“No. No. You don’t need to be sorry.”

“I fucking hate lightning…that place…red sky and lightning…” He groaned, burying his face against your neck like a frightened child.

“That’s okay. Fuck lightning.” You ran your hand over his hair, your other one gripping his arm tightly, keeping him locked against you. You had no idea what place he was talking about. Red sky? The fire? Was there a storm the night of the mall fire?

“Don’t…don’t leave me, please.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Eddie. I am going to stay right here with you, okay? I’ve got you. You’re safe. You’re going to be okay.”

“I’ll never be okay…”

Your eyes slipped closed, a tear slipping down your cheek, your heart aching for him, the things he’d seen, the things he’d been through, the things you would never get to know and could therefore never truly be able to help him with.

Chapter 19

Taglist: @tlclick73 @bebe07011 @eddiesguitarskills @witchwolflea @nailbatanddungeon @emilyslutface @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @corrodedcoffincumslut @mmunson86 @josephquinnsfreckles @katethetank

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impala-dreamer · 3 months

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Tourniquet - Chapter Nine

Supernatural Dean x Reader Series Told Backwards

~Y/N has been by Dean’s side through his worst days, always there if he needs her, forever just a call away. Love is impossible to fight and more impossible to live with. Just a side character in his epic life, Y/N would give anything just to give Dean a moment’s peace.~

Please see MASTERLIST for full info/warnings/chapter links.

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works ~ Get A Custom Story

Another Summer Alone

“Y/N!”

She was sitting on the old creaky stairs, knobby knees bent up to her chest. She was staring at the front door, waiting impatiently for the handle to turn.

“Y/N Y/L/N! Where you at, girl?”

Bobby’s voice boomed through the downstairs, bouncing off the plaster walls and finding its way to her ears.

“I’m here!”

She stood up as he appeared, wiping his wet hands with an old yellow rag. She was clean and dressed, hair uncharacteristically brushed out and hanging down over her shoulders. Her arms and legs were bare, and she wore a pale blue sundress and her white Keds.

Bobby’s brow creased as he looked her over.

“Whatchoo all dressed up for?”

Y/N shrugged, hiding her nervous smile. “Nothin’. Can’t a girl get dressed up around here? I am a girl, in case you forgot like everyone else.”

He hummed in reply and adjusted his trucker hat, wiggling it back into place. He was not as clean, wearing an old shirt and jeans, both more holy than the man himself; and a gray flannel that matched the grease stains on his hands. No matter how much he scrubbed his hands, they never looked clean. The dirt had sunk deep into the cracks of his palms, settled in the nail beds, seeped into his skin. Still, Y/N thought he was handsome, even with the scratchy beard and growing beer gut. He was Uncle Bobby. He was safe and caring and sturdy.

“Quit staring already,” she huffed, waving his gaze away with a delicate hand.

Bobby caught her hand and tugged it gently, turning her palm down. “You wearin’ nail polish, too?”

Y/N yanked her hand from his and turned her nose up in the air. “I can wear nail polish if I want to.”

“And that stuff on your eyes - your father let you wear that crap?”

She looked back over her shoulder and prepared to fight back at such an accusation with some teenage rampage about how if he cared what she did with her body, he’d be there to yell at her himself. Before the words could truly form, she heard it.

Gravel crushed under tires.

A roaring engine.

The heavy creak of door hinges.

A knock on the door.

Her heart raced and she looked at Bobby who nodded toward the door, letting her get it.

The setting sun was bright, striking her gaze with a familiar sting.

Green eyes, spiked hair, pale freckles, beautiful smile. Seventeen looked good on him.

Dean bit his bottom lip as he looked her over. “Hey, Y/N/N.”

Her heart soared;, her cheeks burned. “Hey, Dean.”

A gruff voice broke through their reunion as John pushed Dean through the entryway.

“You gonna stand outside all day or get in? Move it, Dean.”

The older boy stepped aside and John bounded in, ignoring Y/N and greeting Bobby with a firm handshake and a manly hug.

The smell of whiskey and dirty smoke followed him in and Y/N gagged silently next to Dean. He laughed under his breath and gave her a secret wink.

Sam was next through the door, carrying two giant duffle bags that were threatening to take the kid down.

“Hi, Y/N,” he greeted shyly as Dean took the weight from his left shoulder.

“Heya, Sam. Nice to see ya.”

He blushed as if the simple fact that she knew his name was enough to send him to seventh heaven.

With the welcome done, Bobby cleared his throat. “Well, if you boys want supper, drop your bags upstairs and get cleaned up. We wash our hands before eating here.”

Sam nodded and adjusted the strap on his arm. “Yes, sir.”

Dean hung back with Y/N, wanting to talk to her, but John snapped at him.

“You too, Dean.”

He sighed. “Yes, sir.”

John rolled his eyes and turned away, following Bobby into the back.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Dean whispered to Y/N, accidentally on purpose bumping into her as he went for the stairs.

“Me too,” she grinned.

She watched him go, dreaming of running away with him someday, of stealing a car from out front and racing off into the sunset together.

He must have felt her staring and paused on the top step. He glanced back down at her.

“You look really nice,” he said.

Her heart nearly burst.

John left the next morning and the house seemed to sigh in relief.

They spent the summer days lounging about or sneaking around in the Ford graveyard. Sam kept to himself, shoving his nose in a book or trying to get better reception from the rabbit ears on the old tv in the bedroom.

Bobby kept one eye on the budding couple, but mostly let them do as they pleased. Dean and Y/N were too old now to really reprimand, but he was especially attentive when they teens hung about in the shadows. It would be one thing for them to get hurt fooling around in the yard, scraping knees or burning themselves on hot metal, but Y/N ending up pregnant under his nose was something he wasn’t willing to risk.

Y/N hadn’t been so happy in a long time and from the look of the fading bruises on his face and arms, neither had Dean.

He seemed sadder than she remembered him being. Despite his smile, there was something underneath that she couldn’t quite reach, some secret he was holding in. She held him just a little tighter when they hugged, snuggled just a little closer when they sat together on the ratty old sofa.

Still, there was a calmness between them, a warmth that they shared, as if the sun were beating down just for them. When Dean looked at her, he smiled. When she held his hand, he relaxed.

It was nice.

Days turned to weeks and the summer wind grew warmer. They spent hours in the field or down by the stream, kicking rocks into the water and chatting about everything.

Dean was proud that John had finally let him hunt and he assured Y/N that he was being safe, and was actually really good at it. She worried, but knew that someday he’d be the greatest hunter in the world. He was amazing like that. She had no doubts.

Y/N talked quietly about her travels with her father, about the miles and monsters they’d conquered. They’d finally made it to Kentucky, she announced with the cadence of an inside joke, and his smile made her melt.

“You ever wish you didn’t know about this stuff?” he asked one evening while they lay in the grass side by side.

Y/N was propped up on one arm, watching him as he watched the fireflies sparkle overhead.

“I guess. Yeah.” She sighed. “I mean, this is life, isn’t it? I think I’d rather know the thing under my bed could really kill me instead of pretending it didn’t exist.”

Dean chewed his bottom lip. His hands were clasped behind his head and he shifted a bit, getting comfortable even as his words made it impossible.

“I’d rather not know, I think,” he admitted. “I don’t know if I want to do this the rest of my life. I’d rather be doing something else. Anything else.”

Y/N smiled softly. “And what would you be doing right now if you weren’t stuck on this track?”

He turned his eyes to her. “Honestly?”

She laughed. “Always.”

He took a breath and twisted onto his side, facing her. “I’d take you and run. Get away from everything. Find some place safe, some place that isn’t crawling with evil sons of bitches. Somewhere we could just… live.”

Y/N felt that old familiar ache in her chest and she dropped her chin, tugged on a blade of grass between them. His words soaked into her soul, and she wished more than anything that he was serious, that they could really run away together.

“That’s a nice dream, Dean,” she whispered.

“Yeah…”

There was more to say, more she wanted to tell him, but nothing came out. She was stunned by his hand suddenly on her cheek, his fingers holding her so tentatively.

“Would you?” he asked, eyes locked on hers, lips drawing ever closer.

She was trembling despite the warmth pushing off of him. “Would I what?”

“Run away with me.”

Her eyes fell closed and her stomach fluttered. She leaned in, closing the void between them.

“Yes.”

It wasn’t her first kiss, nor was it his, but the taste of him would linger on her lips forever. The feel of his body rolling over her, pressing her into the ground would live in her head for the rest of her life.

They kissed as the sky darkened; hands fumbling over cotton, lips chasing more. His tongue was hungry, his knee between her legs was like a match igniting everything inside of her.

It was quiet and desperate and clumsy, but it was perfect all the same, and only the fireflies knew.

Dean was fiddling with something on the workbench, his back to the yard. He was sweating in the hot August sun and his gray t-shirt was dark around the collar and under his arms. His jeans were dusty and a greasy handprint painted his back right pocket.

Y/N slapped it when she approached and Dean yelped, jumping off his feet.

“Gah!”

She laughed. “Gotcha.”

He spun around, hands hiding something behind his back. “You sure do…”

Her arms slid up around his neck and he dipped down to kiss her lips. A quick peck that she filled with as much love as she possibly could.

Mama once warned her not to go falling in love with just anyone who winked at her, and not to spend her youth running from one bed to another. She hadn’t understood at the time, but the older she got, the more sense it made.

But sixteen wasn’t too young to fall in love and Dean Winchester wasn’t just anyone.

He pulled back before he wouldn’t be able to any longer. “Wanna run into town tonight? Maybe catch a movie?”

Y/N’s smile fell. “Um…”

Dean searched her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

She took a step back and shifted her weight between each foot. “My dad’s here. He just showed up.”

His face fell. “Oh.”

“He wasn’t supposed to be back for a few weeks, I didn’t know-”

Dean’s jaw tensed and he looked down at his boot; kicked up some dust. “It’s cool.”

Y/N’s chest ached. “I’m sorry, Dean. I want to stay. I want to run away with you but-”

“Hey-” He stopped her, hand raising between them. “It was just a dream.”

Wetness threatened to spill from her eyes. “Yeah, it was.”

He took a breath and pulled his right hand from behind his back. “Made you something,” he said, letting a thin ball chain hang down.

Y/N’s breath was heavy, her smile true. She took the necklace and held it in her palm. The pendant was a thin lug nut, probably something he’d kicked up in the gravel, polished and sanded down a bit.

She laughed sweetly. “It’s…”

He cringed. “Stupid, I know.”

“... it’s perfect, Dean.”

It hung on her neck, dipping down to just above the low cut of her tank top. The metal gleamed in the sun and it burned between them as Dean leaned down for one last kiss.

Tourniquet Tags:

@prettyinplaid94 @winharry @muhahaha303 @cookiechipdough @ladysparkles78

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

@babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67@k-slla @leigh70 @lyarr24 @nancymcl @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @sexyvixen7 @the-wounded-healer05

#spn fanfic #supernatural #fanfiction #dean winchester #dean x reader #series #tourniquet #how many tags can i fit on here?#does it matter?#i love this chapter omg

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imaginedreamwrite · 1 year

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Fake it Friday

A shy young woman (maybe with glasses hiding beautiful eyes) has been followed on the way into town by a car with some teenage boys who keep pulling up beside her, trying to get her attention, so she pulls into the service station. The first person she sees is the owner/mechanic Curtis, and she explains the situation and he is more than happy to play along to help her. Please 💙

The service station was on the edge of a small town, the first safe stopping point you could have reached since you’d been followed for nearly half an hour. You hadn’t taken the corner as softly as you should have and you’d parked at an odd angle to the side of the building, but you’d arrived safe. You were hasty when you ripped the keys from the ignition and tucked them into your pocket, only grabbing your ID before you scurried inside and slammed the door behind you.

“You need something?” The man behind the counter had startled you with his voice, your widened and fearful eyes focusing on him as he began to step around the counter.

“I need help, but I don’t…” You winced and pushed your glasses back up the bridge of your nose, whipping your head around to see the cars that were following you pulling into the same station. “I’m being followed and I didn’t think I’d make it into town-“

The name Curtis was sewn onto the front of his dirty and stained coveralls, and the appearance of dried black grease on his hands had given you the immediate impression that he was obviously a mechanic.

His hair was cropped close to his head though it was dark and looked as if it would have been thick if it was longer, his beard was well maintained although you noticed there was a scar on the right corner of his lips that had long since healed.

“-if you could just-“ The sound of doors shutting made you squeak, a shiver of fear running down your spine, and you were almost anticipating him denying any chance to help you.

To your surprise, Curtis had stepped around the counter toward you, tossing the rag in his hands behind him before he set his hands on you and slowly pushed you in the direction of the back.

“Stay here.” He had closed the barrier between the back room and you, the half-wall keeping you from stepping forward, not that you would have, and when he turned your eyes had been drawn to the tattoo running along the back of his neck.

His hands had clenched by his sides as the door opened and the few guys who were following you had stepped into the service station, their eyes almost directly coming to settle upon you.

“Hey Everett, see you caught our little bird.” One of the guys with dirty blonde hair and pale blue eyes had glided into the building with a smug smirk on his face.

He, like the rest of his friends, had given you the impression that belonged to some rich country club that was as exclusive as it was bougie.They hadn’t appeared to have a speck of dust on their clothes, not a single stain or tear, unlike Curtis.

“You didn’t get enough ass kickings, Langley? You need more?” His voice was thick and husky, his shoulders becoming taut as he stood to his full height and stepped between you and them, completely obscuring you from their view.

“Fuck you, Everett. You’re worth noting but fucking dirt.” Langley, the guy who looked like he was fresh out of high school had stepped toward your hiding place only to be cut off by Curtis. “This doesn’t involve you.”

“It sure as hell does.” Curtis had stepped toward the leader of the group, his eyes flickering toward the other three who had stepped back, fear struck in their eyes. “Why the fuck are you following my fiancée?”

You bit down harshly on your tongue to stop yourself from protesting and ruining the cover that he was providing for you. You had squirrelled yourself further behind the counter and shifted your weight from foot to foot to avoid making a mistake that would have cost you. You kept your eyes trained on his back, studying and counting every thread in his coveralls to keep your mind busy.

“Fiancée? That fucking slag-“ There was a loud crash, a deafening bang as Curtis stalked toward the arrogant blonde, throwing him into the door with enough force to rattle the glass and send the other three scurrying out the door.

“Fuck off, Langley. If I see you here again bothering my fiancée, I’ll shove a lug wrench up your ass.” Curtis threatened him with a kind of anger you’d never seen before in a man’s eyes, and had only let the other guy go when he cursed him out softly with a promise not to come back.

There were only a few moments between the guys leaving and Curtis addressing you, but in that time your heart had skipped a beat and your throat had grown tighter.

“You should stay here for a while, wait for them to leave.” He turned and addressed you with a once-over, and then he opened the half-wall that was keeping you from him. “There’s water in the back and some beef jerky. Help yourself.”

“Thank you,” you exhaled and shivered as he passed you, glancing back at the parking lot and gas pumps, “for saving me from them.”

“Bryce Langley is a spoiled bitch, he thinks he’s damn untouchable. Someone needs to kick his ass again. Set him straight.” Curtis grumbled, picking up the discarded rag to drape it cross his shoulder before he stalked into the back.

You raised your had and pushed your glasses back up the bridge of you nose, leaned back against the wall and slowly exhaled again.

#fake it Friday #fake it Fridays #fake it Friday drabble #mechanic!Curtis Everett #shy!Reader

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fuzzydreamin · 1 year

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Random Headcanons for: Paladin Danse

♞ Unless you've caught him fresh out of the shower he's likely got dirt, grease, or sweat on him in some amount. Probably a bit smelly. It's not that he doesn't care about his hygene, he really does, it's just that he enjoys taking part in a lot of activities that leave him this way.

♞ On the up side, he has a strong stomach for grossness. From gorey combat to equally smelly bunkmates. It's not pleasant, but you just get used to it after so long. Though, while he may have gotten used to bad smells, that doesn't mean his sense of smell is any worse off for it. He's actually pretty sensitive to new scents around him and picks up on them fairly quickly. Kind of person to notice/comment on you using new hair product. (that's weird Danse)

♞ Obscenely hairy. He keeps the hair on his head and face in check, but doesn't really bother doing anything about his body hair. And it is everywhere. Everywhere. It also grows super quickly; if he isn't able to keep his beard in check it will grow out fast. Catch him with that depression beard.

♞ Largest companion besides Strong and possibly Ada (depending on her mods). He's a big man even out of power armour. Not like some modern steroid filled bodybuilder though. The only time his muscles are really well defined is when he's been in his power armour all day, or otherwise super occupied, and is thus very dehydrated, and even then he's still got a good layer of fat softening everything up. Just a natural good mix of height, muscle, and fat.

♞ Has always hated mirelurks, and generally any nonsense from the sea, but living in Rivet City made it worse, since they were an occasional problem for those living on lower decks. Just got really done with them. Will always have beef with whoever decided to name them kings and queens. Meet him in the debate hall for a verbal smack down.

♞ Doesn't drink nuka cola. It's the radiation and whatever the hell else is in them that worries him. Quantum is a nightmare and he cringes at anyone drinking it. Actually tends to be pretty picky about a lot of foods, but forces things down for the sake of nutrition. One of his simpler pleasures is just getting to enjoy a meal that's taste and texture doesn't put him off.

♞ He and Cutler were definitely more than just friends, but neither got the chance to confess their true feelings for the other and define what they truly were. Danse of course regrets this, and it also means he isn't comfortable referring to Cutler as anything more than a friend, while also feeling that word does no justice to their relationship.

♞ Obviously fell hard for the Maxson child-of-destiny propaganda, but the thing he most admired was Maxson's defeat of Shephard. Those mutants were related to the Cutler incident, and so he viewed Maxson as a personal hero for stopping them and saving other people from a similar fate.

♞ Lowkey religious, which isn't so uncommon being from the Capital.

♞ Word vomit. He does his best to keep a lid on things when he's around outsiders, knowing they don't share the Brotherhoods views and aren't worth his time, but once he cracks he will give you a whole lecture on whatever subject it is if he can't reel himself back in. Subordinates are free game for lectures. At least he's can be very good at explaining things, so long as you understand larger words.

♞ After BB and before the defeat of the Institute he would have nightmares about uncontrollably killing the people around him, where he was stuck in his body and forced to watch while he had no ability to stop himself. That or being taken back to the Institute and reset into a slave or made into a courser. Before BB he didn't think his sleep schedule could get worse, but there you go.

♞ While, with time, Danse can unlearn some of the hatred and bigotry the Brotherhood instilled in him, he will never feel anything but hatred and mistrust for super mutants. He puts up with Strong's existance for the Sole Survivors sake, but that's all, and he wouldn't hesitate or at all regret killing him if it was deemed necessary.

♞ He's still a little awkward around other synths, when he knows what they are. But he gets that they, like him, have no choice in what they are, and without the Institute around he doesn't fear them (or him) going haywire.

♞ With ghouls, he still finds their physiology extremely offputting, to say the least, and is always a little bit paranoid about them going feral, but he learns to keep his mouth shut and appreciate them as individuals and the work they do. He gains quite a respect for ghouls at The Slog, the same as any other hard working settlers. Still calls Hancock an abomination, but it's said as a joke and Hancock is for it. They gain a weird friendship.

♞ If the roles had been reversed in Blind Betrayal he would have killed the Sole Survivor. He knows it, and because he told them about Cutler, and his only half-joking comments about putting them down if they turn feral from radiation, he knows they know it. He wouldn't have shown them the same mercy they did to him, and would have seen killing them as a kindness. This knowledge is just another thing he has to reckon with post BB.

♞ Didn't think about family during his time in the Brotherhood. They were his family, and he was a dedicated soldier. Honestly he assumed he'd die in combat before he would have the chance to find someone he'd want that with. But post BB, without the BoS to dedicate himself to anymore and an uncertain future on the horizon, it comes to mind. He wonders if it's even possible now, being what he is, and the thought that it might not be able, or that a 'machine' shouldn't have children, upsets him. Whether capable or not he eventually comes to terms with this possiblity, and tries to find joy in other aspects of his life still.

♞ After BB and staying in Sanctuary he's out of armour a lot more. It's super uncomfortable for him since he's been using his power armour as a literal shield from the world for years, but even putting on the flight suit is just unnecessary now unless Sole is taking him with them. However, on top of the whole 'vulnerable without my shell' feeling, he also just has trouble in general getting used to wearing normal clothes. They feel weird to him now, and they aren't protective enough. Especially around his arms and neck. He can wear a jacket for the arms, but what to do about the neck? How can he make it feel better/like it used to with the flight suit? He ponders it for a while and almost shits a brick when he realises that what he wants is a collar. Brb he's gonna go bury himself now.

♞ Joins up with the Minutemen a few months are BB. After everything with the Institute is dealt with he spends most of his time at The Castle teaching the other Minutemen and new recruits how to be better soldiers. Also teaches anyone willing to learn about power armour and other tech. (Haylen is there too, yay, best buds forevers)

NSFW

♞ Mans awkward as hell but he fucks, alright. He's not getting around a lot, but it happens. All those soldiers gotta blow off steam somehow and this mans is horny on main ("I like when you're this close" sir we are in combat). He's slept with a few of his fellow soldiers and scribes in his day. He's always sure that they are the same rank as him and aren't ones he's likely to be teamed up with though.

♞ Bisexual with a preference for men. Hasn't actually had sex with a woman. Not for avoiding it, it just hasn't happened between his preference and men outnumbering women in the Brotherhood. The closest he got was a BJ.

♞ His liking for adrenaline comes into things in the bedroom: he's most ready to get down after a particularly exciting fight or sparring session, so having a playful wrestle with him can be a good way to get him in the mood.

♞ Has a lot of stamina, which can work against him sometimes. Likes overstimulation and edge play. Has sensitive nipples. Snuggles afterwards, and he's going to be very warm. Hope you like sweat.

♞ Very concerned with the comfort of his partner, will be constantly checking in and asking before doing something to the point it can almost be bothersome. Makes him really good with first timers though. Becomes better with frequency as he learns what is generally okay with his partner and gets into a rhythm of doing that.

♞ Want him to be more dominant? He can only do soft dom or drill sargeant. And he'll only do that second one after a long conversation making extra sure you're okay with it and setting boundaries. He'll probably want to stop before his partner does.

♞ Doesn't like roleplay. He has no idea how he's meant to act so it just throws him off completely. If you want to put on a bit of an act for him he'll let it be, but nothing crazy or too different or you'll throw him off, and don't expect him to be anyone but himself.

#fallout #fallout 4 #paladin danse #fuzzy.post #this is a longer one... but this man has a lot of shit to go through and unpack post BB #“hit em with the angst stick” ... “hit em again”

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fusrodie · 3 years

Note

Hiya! If you’re still up for any asks, how about a short Drabble with Heisenberg and an s/o who’s a clean freak? Thanks xx

hello, anon! thank you very much for your request! I have this headcanon that Heisenberg is also a bit of a clean freak, but only past working hours. so here's something a little... let's say experimental. (¬‿¬)

SFW, slightly suggestive. s/o is gender neutral. 1K words.

For some reason, Karl Heisenberg always looked his best when he was covered in soot and a thin layer of grease. It was something about the attitude, perhaps, the way he’d return home tired but triumphant, dripping with sweat but a content smile on his face. Days like these, you’d smell him before you saw him; cigars, worn leather and burnt circuitry, ash caked onto his beard. You’d see the smile first of all, impish and sweet, like an unruly child about to break yet another rule.

You always tried to avoid it, the two of you circling around the dinner table as he chased to give you a warm, smelly hug and plant a sticky kiss on your cheek. Every time you’d wail and he’d wheeze, hands pushing against his chest to let go, but he never did - not until he had rubbed half the dirt off on your face.

Yet it was what came after that never ceased to intrigue you; Heisenberg would walk in his dirty and boisterous self, annoy you with his antics and then kiss you one last time, heartfelt and open. It always crossed your mind that this part of his ritual was akin to a mask being taken off, placed neatly upon the shelf to wait for its next use. He’d drop the hammer, the noise, the aggression. The man you had come to know and love took off his armor then, both literal and figuratively, boots kicked off and hat left behind.

He’d always start with the gloves, walking towards your shared bedroom only to stop in front of the mirror and dresser, pulling on a finger and then another like he had all the time in the world. One glove stacked perfectly on top of the other, next to his favorite swiss knife and lighter, a shrine of his own that he carefully maintained. The belt would come next, buckle to one side and strap to the other, his full attention devoted to his task. One loop and then another over his hand to roll the belt and fit it perfectly inside his second drawer, breathing steady and eyes pointed down as if he was deep in thought. He might just be, you reckoned; Karl was never quiet except for such moments, his very own way of meditating after a long day’s work. No scheming or building, no plans and no blueprints.

Hands free, he’d bring them up to run his fingers through his hair, bunch it all together to tie a loose bun, a sigh of contentment escaping his lips. He would then go about emptying his pockets, always a miscellanea of parts and papers, sometimes a flower or rock that called his attention on the way home. The coat would come next, off the shoulders in one smooth move, collar in hand a second later as he hung it on the wall hook, dusted it off lightly and pressed down not to leave any wrinkles.

He always looked down at his memorabilia with a hint of melancholy, not the kind that misses what has been, but that hopes it will never again come to pass. He is very particular about the dog tags, sets them next to the gloves as if making an offering. It is then he goes through yet another transformation; once the last accessory is off, it looks as if he has relived a huge burden off his shoulders.

The shirts are always so agonizingly slow. There is no doubt in your mind that he does it on purpose - all of it. He is a showman at heart, after all. Having his audience captive at any given moment does wonders for his ego. His eyes accompany the movement of his hands in the mirror, watching as he goes from one button to another, the rise and fall of his chest, dexterous fingers that sometimes linger a second too much to keep the tension going.

There is far less ceremony for the undershirt, a small reprieve for the audience before he lays it on thick. You never fail to notice the slight blush on his cheeks as he pulls the shirt over his head, conscious about the softness of his abdomen and the scars on his back. A bead of sweat drips down from his shoulder blade, makes its way down to reach the happy, happy trail of hair that leads down his pants. Your breath catches when he chuckles, because both of you know you would like nothing more than to kiss every inch of his skin, muscles and scars and sweat and whatever else. He lifts his head to catch you staring in the mirror, with that smile that promises you whatever it is you desire, be it a sleepless night or loving embraces under the covers. Most nights you look away, a smile of your own for being caught red-handed, but not tonight. The defiance in your eyes sparks something within him.

He holds your stare as he begins to unzip his pants, daring you not to peek, not to give in. It is a challenge you don’t mind losing, not when he pushes the fabric down his hips to expose the creases you loved to trace with your tongue. And just as he is about to pull it all the way down, about to show you every inch of the body you love so much, he deals the final blow.

Heisenberg pretends to forget that you are staring avidly at him, clicks his tongue like he has remembered something urgent that needs doing. The damned pants are buttoned up again and he darts away from the mirror, laughing at the sound of your disappointed sigh.

You have returned your attention to your own task when he reemerges from the bedroom with a towel strung across his shoulders, his expression pure amusement to see you so flustered. “What’s the matter, buttercup?” Karl says against your ear as he passes by, a quick kiss left behind on your cheek as he crosses the room into the bathroom. “Care to join me?”

#karl heisenberg #karl heisenburg x reader #virgil writes #hope you like it! :^)

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yeehawfolk · 3 years

Note

Hi! I think yr totally right about Felix's teeth probably not being great and how he and the rest of the crew should have more scars! Do u have any other lil appearance HCs for him/the whole gang? (:

OK! SO! I have a Lot of HCs about the crew, appearance-wise, anyway. Don't get me wrong, I love their canon designs, but I feel like they didn't utilize "Halcyon is fucked" enough with your companions? If that makes sense. I'm going to break this up character by character, so it'll be an easier read!

Also, I'm gonna put a TW on this for slight self harm on this?? It's not emotionally motivated at all, it's like when you'd compete to see who can get the gnarliest eraser burn in middle school, but nevertheless, I want to warn y'all ahead of time, it's on Ellie's part.

Parvati:

-Honestly, her eyes are gorgeous. They're brown, but an amber kind of brown, and very bright.

-I personally HC that Parvati chews her nails when she's nervous, so they're always nubs and usually pretty dirty, bc Mechanic and all.

-Her hands have faint scars from nicks and burns from working on machinery. The skin on her hands doesn't scar easily, but she still has a few gnarly scars from particularly bad burns or cuts that she wasn't able to take proper care of.

-Constantly has bruises of unknown origin on her arms and legs. She bruises very easy, and always has, which is kind of precarious when you're a mechanic.

-This might already be canon and I just haven't noticed bc I'm using the Switch version, but I HC Parv has some freckles sprinkled around her face. Not a lot by any means, but I HC she gets frequent sun when she's working on certain parts of the town, and freckles are a bi-product of that.

-She has a couple small scars on her face; one just below her eye on her cheek, and another on her chin. I like to think she fell on her chin, and the other was from her first project that blew up in her face, literally.

-Her skin is just a bit ashy because she hasn't had access to a lot of good lotions over the years.

-Despite taking a shower every morning, she accumulates grease smudges and dirt from her plants on herself very easily. She cleans up for her and Junlei's dates, but for casual visits both don't really bother. Sometimes they make a game of smudging each other with grease while they work and by the time they're finished their faces look like they were going for war paint.

-I like to think Parvati and Junlei eventually wear rings with each other (like, years down the line) and when Parvati gets deep in thought, she rests it against her lips. Junlei does something similar by turning her ring on her finger.

-Parv has ok teeth, not like great, but she takes pretty good care of them, even if sometimes she has to forgo it for a day or few while out with the Captain.

-When she's in Edgewater, she's always skinny, and if you squinted you probably could pick out a rib or so. But after she moves in with The Captain, she gains weight, and finally has the little pooch of fat that you're supposed to have around the middle. Ellie helps her keep up with nutritional needs (what you can get in Halcyon, anyway) and gets very proud when she makes her goals.

Felix:

-This boy has horrible teeth. His sweet tooth + being an orphan in the Back Bays didn't leave much time for proper teeth cleaning. He probably never really had enough bits to get toothpaste with, either.

-Oh, boy. He has scars galore. Some are from scuffles (he has some on his back from when he was a kid and used to get in trouble for stealing) but a lot are also from getting burned by pipes, or jagged metal. A fair few are from him doing dumbass things in his teenage years ("I wonder what would happen if I heat up these rounds of light ammo with a flamethrower??") because you can't tell me this boy didn't do dumb things like every teenage boy did but with more disasterous results bc SciFi.

-His nose has been broken quite a few times, so it's crooked in a couple spots.

-Can frequently be found with bloody knuckles just because he forgets that punching someone with a mask over their face really isn't the best idea. This eventually culminates into him making the "Millstone Drop-Kick!" his go-to move.

-This isn't exactly appearance related, but I HC Felix has a fucked back from his life of hauling heavy boxes. It doesn't help that he drop kicks literally everything that moves tho.

-Probably has chronic pain in his hands from his hands getting crushed by boxes at some point or another. Several of his fingers are crooked from being broken and improperly set. His bones probably aren't the best bc of poor nutrition growing up, either, so they're a little easier to break.

-Just. Me thinking about Felix in his 40s, or even early 30s: Honey, you have a big storm coming.

-This is also a little random, but I like to think that it takes a long time for Felix to grow any kind of facial hair (he has chronic babyface) so he's super proud of his scruff.

-Max: That's peach fuzz. If that.

-Felix: Leave me alone you big hairy bastard, just bc you have to shave like every other day to keep a clean face doesn't mean all men do!!

-(He's just a bit sensitive about his facial hair)

-(He one day dreams of growing a glorious beard like Sanjar's, but it would take him like 50 years)

-(Shut up Max one day he'll have an amazing handlebar mustache and you won't be laughing then)

-I have no idea if piercings or tattoos are a Thing in Halcyon (probs not, honestly, but I can dream) but if they are, he tried to pierce his ears by himself once, they got infected, and he got really sad when he had to let them close. The marks are still there but the holes have closed by now.

-ELLIE PIERCES HIS EAR AND HELPS HIM KEEP IT CLEAN

-Felix is strong, but he's skinny and gangly as all hell and it's hard as fuck to get him to gain any weight, mostly because he still has his habit of eating only what he needs and stashing the rest. It takes him a while with the crew to get over that, and when he does, he gains a healthy amount of weight around his middle. Ellie teases him a bit, but is 1,000x happier that he's no longer damn near a walking skeleton.

-Listen. Ellie and Felix are bros I don't make the rules. She denies it but she would kill for Felix.

-Usually has slight dark circles under his eyes, because he has nightmares sometimes and can't sleep.

-His eyes are really, really pretty. Like. Super fucking pretty. He has long lashes and they sparkle when he smiles. His eyes are hazel like Max's, but more on the brown side, with streaks of green radiating out from the pupil.

-Speaking of smiles. He has the goofiest and sweetest grins around. A little self-conscious about his teeth, but honestly that doesn't stop him from laughing and smiling with everyone. He has a couple broken teeth, but honestly it just makes his grin a lil lopsided and cute.

-He gets the Worst bed-head. It stands almost straight up in every direction, but it's really easy to tame. Mostly because he just runs his hands through it and calls it a day.

-He found Max's hair gel once and went Ham. He used the whole can sticking his hair up into a mohawk, and proceeded to parade around for Ellie and Parvati. Then bolt to his room and lock the door when Max shouted his name from the bathroom. Max's hair was out of whack for like. A week. He kept blowing it out of his face and Felix and Ellie would giggle like madmen when he did.

-*BANGS FISTS ON TABLE* FELIX IS BABY! FELIX IS BABY!!

Max:

-My MANS

-Listen, I am extremely gay for Max. This needs to be known before I continue, because I have a metric fuckton of Max HCs.

-So, first off, Max takes VERY good care of his appearance. Like. Insanely good. His hair is always perfectly held back by a moderate amount of gel, his nails perfectly trimmed and cleaned. He keeps a clean-shaven face.

-But don't let that fool you, Max can and will get down and dirty when need be, he just doesn't care to stay like that.

-Quite a few scars from his prison and Tossball years. But because of the clothes he wears you wouldn't be able to see them easily. Mostly on his back/sides, though he has a couple on his torso and legs.

-The Captain calls him Bigfoot because his grows hair really fast and his arms and chest have some pretty thick hair. Max is very confused, because he personally doesn't think his feet are that big.

-Not an appearance HC per se, but he smells like soap, aftershave, and books.

-When he doesn't gel his hair, it falls in his face constantly, and it annoys the fuck out of him.

-Fuckin ripped bro. Just. What the fuck. Why is a priest this fuckin shredded. Why make my gay little heart ache more than it already does, Obsidian??

-Despite his arm muscles being like. Huge, he still has a healthy layer of fat over his middle, mostly because being an OSI Priest, he got a little bit better nutrition VS. literally all of Halcyon.

-When his knee gets Bad (like hiking through Monarch with the Captain) he has a slight limp? Barely noticeable, but you can tell he's not putting weight on it. I HC its an old Tossball injury (that might be canon, I haven't played in forever).

-Its hard to tell in the different lights of the game whether his hair is Black or Silver, and I like to think he's greying, but not fully grey yet. He can have a little hair color, still. As a treat.

-Fuckin no lashes to speak of. None at all. Baldy eyes. Its the only part of him that doesn't have really thick hair and ngl he is very salty about it. Tho his actual eyes are very pretty; they're hazel with a lot of green. He has a darker ring on the outside and flecks of brown in them.

-Has very good teeth, whiter than most of Halcyon's because of the OSI providing for him.

-Broke his nose once during Tossball, though he was able to get it set alright. Slight crook in the bridge of his nose.

-He has a lot of those moles from his face scattered around. Particularly his shoulders and back.

-Also have you seen his fuckin canon thighs??? Bro. They could crush a watermelon. Once again, I must say, what the fuck, why is this priest so fuckin shredded.

-Actually takes his physical health very seriously, so I like to think he's in great shape for his age. Seeing him in some of the canon outfits though makes me more inclined to think that's canon.

-Sorry, I have thought about this A Lot, and the gay jumps out of me sometimes.

-A fair amount of scars on his arms. Not as many as Nyoka, but a little bit more than Parvati.

-Has calloused hands, but they've softened over his years as a priest.

Ellie:

-Now I feel like Ellie wouldn't have many scars that she didn't let scar up on purpose to give her an edge. They're essentially superficial; they look cool but didn't do any real damage.

-Also, her skin is very pale, so she doesn't scar easily anyway.

-Though she does have some, and they're more recent. A couple of gashes on her arms, and a bullet wound in her side. She's proud of them.

-The dark circles under her eyes are because she likes to stay up late at night. Sometimes she contemplates her life, but she doesn't like it, and usually doesn't bother too much.

-Her lashes are very thick and full, and they compliment her eyes very well. Her eyes aren't exactly ice blue, they're a bit darker, and have real pretty lighter streaks in them.

-Yes, her lips are naturally that color. Good for picking up women, bad for looking intimidating to marauders.

-Really soft skin, she's always had access to good lotion. After she leaves Byzantium, she purposely looks a bit more grimy than she did then, which is easy to do because of her skin tone.

-Has a few moles and freckles, but not many, mostly on her shoulders and back. She was inside a lot prior to her leaving Byzantium.

-Her hair doesn't really sit down when she sleeps, but it does lose some poofiness, so she has to meticulously push it up in the mornings.

-Not quite an appearance HC, but I feel like when she gets comfortable with ADA, she gives her compliments. Stuff like "Your screen is very bright today, ADA!" ADA does the same thing. "And your hair is looking very bright as always, Dr. Fenhill."

-Muscular, but lean, and puts on weight a little easier than others, so she wouldn't look like she could kick your ass without her pirate get-up, but she could 100%, no holds barred kick your ass.

-Very good teeth. Despite wanting to look like a gnarly pirate she takes dental care very seriously. Tho she thinks about getting punched in the mouth occasionally so she could like break off a piece of her tooth. Not the whole thing, just enough to make her look tough.

-Idc if piercings and tattoos aren't a Thing in Halcyon, Ellie has pierced ears. Three in each ear, and I like to think an eyebrow and maybe nose ring. She doesn't wear them when she's in Dangerous Situations because she firsthand had to fix ears that had their earrings ripped out during rich catfights that she does NOT want that to happen to her.

-She also has tattoos covering most of her back, and some of her upper arms. She got them "illegally" (meaning it's illegal to The Board, but the Groundbreaker doesn't really give a shit) on The Groundbreaker and she's proud as fuck of them.

-I have Feelings about the missed opportunities for illegal tattoo/piercing parlors. Like I know there's not a lot of self-expression to be had and no Art aside from fonts, but c'mon. Humans have drawn on their skin since the beginning all around the world and we WOULD find ways to do it again, even if it's needle-poke tattoos.

-Anyway, back to Ellie.

-You ever hear of a "lighter tattoo"? Basically, you heat up a lighter and then stamp the hot metal into your skin and it makes a mark in the shape of the lighter head. If you get it hot enough and hold it long enough it can scar. They have a similar thing in Halcyon with Plasma Cutters. Instead of Stab, you heat it up, turn it off, and press the blade to your skin and it pretty much scars within a couple seconds.

-Ellie 100% did a few of those when she was in Byzantium as like the "hahaha edgy" thing that teenagers do.

-Like I know technically kids aren't around but... bruh... you can't tell me that teenagers in a SciFi setting wouldn't do dumb ass shit like that.

-Ellie is honestly the baddest bitch and I love her, ok, she just reminds me so much of of those high school delinquent tropes in 90s movies

Nyoka:

-SO I HAVE SOME FEELINGS ABOUT NYOKA'S CANON DESIGN... IN THAT SHE'S ESSENTIALLY A MONSTER HUNTER BUT SHE HAS NO SCARS!

-Listen, ok, she would 100% have a lot of scars from her life on Monarch. I share some HCs with @nyokaacore in that she has three scars over one of her eyes, and a few others around her face, like on her lips.

-The bulk of her scars are on her arms and body, though, as she usually is able to get the Canid or Rapt off before they get to her face.

-I like to think the scars on her eye are from Freida, the first Rapt she ever killed that's taxidermied on her wall.

-But she has a lot of scars from Raptidon claws and Canid mouthplates, sprinkled with some Manti burns and burns from Rapt spit.

-She also has her fair share of bullet scars on her, and definitely has some patches of skin discoloration from incidents regarding the sulphur pools. Chemical burns are a bitch.

-She's tall, and not exactly curvy? But broad. Big shoulders, wide hips, sturdy legs. Looks like she could kill you, could actually kill you alignment.

-The sand and sulphur in the air plays Hell on her skin, so she's got some old acne scars and places that scarred up into moles on her face. Has an issue with dry skin.

-Her skin is also pretty oily, and she washes it when she can, but water is usually better spent being drunk than washed with. However, she does carry a spare bottle of non-drinkable water to wash Rapt acid off in emergencies, so sometimes she'll pull from that to wash her face with.

-Big hands, calloused, pretty scarred up from her time on Monarch.

-I also like to think that she can tell you stories about most of the scars she has, lmao.

-Her nose, like Felix's, has been broken quite a few times and is pretty crooked.

-Most often, you see Nyoka with a slight sunburn on her face. It's hard to see, but her cheeks are usually warm to the touch.

-Her teeth aren't the best, but she does take as much care of them as she can out on Monarch. Still pretty yellow with some cavities, but not as bad at Felix's.

-Honestly the dark circles around her eyes are usually because she doesn't sleep a lot. She has dreams about CHARON, and that's not her favorite thing to do.

-At a pretty healthy weight for Halcyon, and ofc, has muscles as big as your head.

-Surprisingly soft hands, though.

#the outer worlds #tow #the outer worlds hcs #headcanons #hcs #parvati holcomb #felix millstone #ellie fenhill #nyoka ramnarim wentworth iii #vicar max #maximillian desoto #appearance hcs #asks #anon #i need to stop now or i'll never stop

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bubble-tae · 4 years

Text

Hearts Racing

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: angst, smut

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: Yoongi’s spent his entire life in this small little town, devoting all of his time to cars and races. Things change when a girl from out of state disrupts his simple world, leaving him in awe at how just one day can change everything.

Moodboard done by @ddaengyoonmin as part of her moodboard collaboration project. Reposted from old account.

Ever since he was young, his mother hated taking him to the racetrack nearby. Every first of the month the locals would hold a race for the whole town, $5 a person and kids free. In their small town it was normal for boys to start learning car mechanics and the itch to feel the leather steering wheel beneath their fingertips, and Yoongi was no different. He was a bright young thing. College bound, his teachers would say, but he only had eyes for one thing; the track. There was nothing his mother could do that could tear him away from it. Three weeks into baseball season his mom came in her station wagon to pick him up from the field, only he wasn’t there. Hadn’t ever been a kid named Yoongi on the baseball team, turned out, cause at just 13 he was showing the high school kids what he was all about.

Did he absolutely get his assed kicked by his pops for spending the $5 bucks he was given for uniform on bribing the teens to let him take a spin in one of their dad’s roadsters? Hell yeah, but when he showed up at that track the next day with a busted lip and black eye, he got mad props?? from those high school kids. So every Saturday from then on for the next 6 years that’s where you’d find him. ‘Elbows deep and covered in grease,’ they’d like to say, and that’s how she first saw him that hot July afternoon.

She was an out of towner, rolled in a few weeks ago to visit her cousin for his graduation. She let his buddies take her on dates all over town, didn’t mind the free drinks and drags from their cigarettes. Shit, it beat kicking it at the house with aunt Cheryl while her sweet dear cousin was doing his own rendition of sex education. Ending up at the racetrack that day was sort of a happy accident. Roger, one of her cousins old football buddies, and parked the car down the street from there when he was trying to feel up her skirt with his slimy fingers when she asked what the ‘Town Track’’ was. Of course Roger said it was nothing while he leaned in close, and of course she gave him a sweet smile when she hopped out the car and asked him to show her.

He was nice enough to buy her a coke once inside, but after the car stunt he seemed much more interested in talking to the local racetrack drivers who were taking a beer break from whatever they were doing. Well, all of them except one. His head hadn’t risen once from under the hood of a car, working presumably on something difficult as he huffed and puffed with irritation.

“That’s a mighty fine ride you got there,” Roger pointed to a car out in the back with a beer in his hands, “she must be fun on the weekends.”

One of the older drivers, maybe in his late 40s, scratched at his beard and nodded to the girl twiddling the coke straw in between her lips. “I could say the same to you.” She took a sip of the coke and spit it at his feet.

“Eat dog shit,” she spat at him, not even blinking an eye. The man stood to his feet and pointed at Roger.

“You better keep your bitch on a leash.” he said, and the man who had been quietly working sprang up and slammed the hood of the car shut, making everyone jump just a little bit. He was young, maybe no older than Roger, and handsome despite the black stains that littered his body.

“What would your momma think if she heard you calling a lady somethin’ like that?” he questioned, walking around to the drivers side and hoping in while fiddling with the keys. The older man let out a howling laugh like a coyote, or like a man that had too much to drink.

“She’s as much as a lady as that car’ll start,” he said which got the rest of the boys in fits of hoots and laughs. “Give it a rest already Yoongi, that old thing will never race.” The boy, Yoongi, only let out a small smirk as he put the key in the ignition. The car’s engine turned over once, twice, three times, each time the laughs getting louder and more proud. On the fourth try the engine came to life, drowning out the noise of everyone else. The older man sat down with a huff, crumpled up his empty beer can, and tossed it at the car. Yoongi’s mouth upturned into a gummy smile as he laughed at the others, in a somehow both mocking and endearing way.

“I’ll see you assholes later, I’m outta this bitch,” he tapped the side of the car and was ready to pull into reverse when the coke girl, who had been quietly studying Yoongi while the others pestered, ran up to the passenger side.

“Give me a lift up outta here,” she said leaning over the window, giving her best ‘helpless girl’ look as she puckered out her lips into a small pout. Yoongi scanned her face, saw the glint of the devil in her eyes and the slight red of the cherry chapstick on her lips. She was trouble, and he was busy.

He smiled but shook his head. “If I didn’t have things to do, I would.” Before he even turned away she was opening the door and hoping in the passenger’s seat. “I’ll tag along. Anywhere is better than with him,” she chucked her thumb over at her date. Yoongi gave her that same smile from earlier and started to back out of the small garage of the racetrack.

“You can’t just leave with him!” Roger shouted from the other side of the garage. She rested her arm out of the car and rested her head on her hand. “What are you gonna do, tell on me?” she quipped as Yoongi pulled out of the Town Track and back out onto the street. Yoongi’s hand rested lazily on the wheel, the other reaching into his dirty jeans to pull out a pack of Marlboro’s and a lighter. He pulled one out and put it in his mouth, lighting it before making a hard right towards the side of town she had never been before.

“Help yourself.” He said, tossing the cigarettes and lighter into her lap. She took one out for herself, and after a few moments of silent smoking , Yoongi looked at her from the corner of his eye.

“Where you from?” he asked, ashing his cigarette out the window.

“Upstate.” she said, and he didn’t know if it was fact or fiction. He turned down another street after a while, this one just made of red dirt clay. “You aren’t that guy that’s nabbin’ girls over in Colorado, are you?” She laughed, more amused at her own idea than actually being scared at the thought.

“Shouldn’t you ask that before you get in the car with strangers?” he offered back to her.

“You’re name’s Yoongi, and I’m Y/N. See? Not strangers.” she said matter of factly before taking one last drag and tossing the butt out of the window. She turned her body to face him. “So, where we going ‘not stranger’?”

“The Graveyard, I need some parts.”

She glanced down at his crotch and back up at him with a disgusted look on her face.

“What kinda parts you need?” she asked. Yoongi let out a small laugh and gave her a smirk.

“A car graveyard. Parts for this beauty here.” he patted the dashboard roughly with his hands and it rattled in its place. Y/N picked at a piece of torn leather from the seat they were on and flung it out the window. “Well, she’ll be beautiful soon.” he finished.

For the next twenty minutes the two talked about their lives and what led up to this moment. Bar talk really, nothing more than stories of crazy exes and high school teachers, but the air between which they spoke had a sweet silence to you it, as if a different part of themselves were speaking to one another. With each passing minute they felt less and less like strangers, but the summer does that to those I guess. Everything always seems destined.

The pair pulled up to a ‘Dead End’ sign at roughly 8 o’clock, the sun just beginning to dip below the horizon. There were cicadas buzzing all around, and yoongi pulled out another cigarette. “I gotta wait till its dark, then,” he said as he pointed a finger to a rusted chain link fence behind the sign, “I hop over that and into The Graveyard. You stay here. ” Y/N leaned back in her seat with a puff and fanned her skirt out over her legs.

“No.” she said, with a hint of annoyance in her voice.

“Huh?” Yoongi asked.

“I’m coming with you.”

“I don’t know if it’s obvious, but we aren’t supposed to even be here. There’s a guard that walks the premises, sometimes he has a hunter dog cause he knows people like to steal shit. Not to mention that you’ll have to scale that fence in a skirt.” he rambled on, his hands moving around in wild gestures.

“You can’t stop me.” said Y/N with a shrug. Yoongi huffed in disbelief.

“Fine,” he said. “But I’m not responsible when you run into trouble.”

“Fine.” she said back to him and crossed her arms.

They sat in silence until the sun set, the two of them becoming engulfed in darkness. When Yoongi got out of the car Y/N followed, making their way through the small brush until they reached the fence. Yoongi bent down and put his hands together to give Y/N a boost, but by the time he was down on one knee she was halfway up the fence. He rolled his eyes and took the liberty of peeking up her skirt at her pink panties. She hopped down onto the other side, and when Yoongi’s fingers gripped onto the fence, she placed hers on top of them. Though there was the metal between them, their faces were only inches apart. She leaned in closer until she could smell the smoke on his breath. “Peeping Tom,” she taunted through a smirk before giggling and pushing off the fence. He would have blushed if all the blood hadn’t flown south, but he pushed the thought away. This moment was temporary, seeing the look on his rivals face next month when he won the race after getting this car fixed up? That was eternal.

He scaled the fence and hopped down next to her. The field was dark, the ghostly figures of abandoned cars littering the yard for what seemed to be miles. The Graveyard was huge, and seemed to have it’s own myths and stories surrounding it. Though neither of them would ever admit it, it was a little bit spooky. Yoongi started walking first with some sort of deliberation, like he knew where he was going, and y/n followed not far behind him.

“I’d ask you what you’re looking for but I probably wouldn’t know what it is if you told me.” Y/N said in a loud whisper. Yoongi let out a loud shushing noise before continuing to walk onwards, and as stubborn as y/n was, she was terrified of being left behind. She jogged up quickly next to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Scared?” he asked amused, and Y/N gave him a loud shushing noise of her own. They walked like that for some time before Yoongi stopped suddenly. In front of them was a car, it’s features indistinguishable as its front end was completely smashed in, the left side missing the passenger side doors. The grass was still freshly squashed beneath it, barely any sign of rust visible.

“Whoever was in that car is lucky to be alive.” y/n said.

“Yeah,” Yoongi said not taking his eyes off the vehicle, “he probably should be.” Before Y/N could question what he had said, he nudged her by the elbow and urged her to keep following him. “The car I need is just up here.” he said as he walked over to a different vehicle. This one was a bit older than the last, but more in tack. The front headlights were busted and there was thistle weeds growing through the hood caps of the wheels, and y/n began to wonder what kind of life this car lived. This place really was like a graveyard.

Yoongi went to the hood of the car and prepared to pop it open when a light in the distance caught both of their eyes. “Shit” Yoongi hissed, “we gotta hide.” He grabbed y/n by the arm and brought her over to the car and began forcing her into the back seat. She went to yell out a mad ‘hey’, but he covered her mouth and climbed on top of her. Her fists hit his chest as he closed the door behind him, the noise echoing followed by a loud “Who’s out there?” from the guard. At that Y/N froze.

“Be quiet.” Yoongi ordered in a whisper, removing his hand from her mouth. He was directly on top of her, his hot breath on her neck as his head hovered near hers. Her hands instinctively went to his shoulders, her eyes watching a light like ghosts surveying the field around them. They lay like that together until they were sure the guard had left the area, but neither of their hearts seemed to slow. Yoongi raised his head parallel to hers, their noses brushing against one another. His hand that wasn’t being used to prop himself up rose to cup her cheek. He looked down at her for a long time, scanning her face and features in the light of the moon.

Y/N made the first move, her head raising upwards as she connected their lips. For a greasy small town boy he kissed soft and slow, savoring every second. He raised his body up so Y/N could adjust her legs, and settled back down between them. His tongue swept over her bottom lip and she let him in with ease, the first boy she never made fight for it. Her hands grabbed at the hairs on the nape of his neck, a small groan coming from Yoongi as he lazily ground his hips into hers.

His lips traveled down her jawline and down to her neck, fingers ghosting over her chest as they made the way to the hem of her shirt. Yoongi didn’t waste time pulling the shirt over her head, Y/N’s arms quickly finding their way back to his hair and pulling him back down on top of her. Everything felt more intense with Yoongi, the way his chest felt pressed up against hers, hips periodically pressing down into hers. He was fully clothed, but y/n still worried that she’d never get enough of him. She’d kiss him forever if he hadn’t started pulling his own shirt over his head.

Tossing the shirt onto the ground he got into a sitting position, pulling Y/N into his slap to straddle him. His lips found their way to her chest, his fingers rubbing circles through the padding of the bra before snaking their way around to unclasp it. Y/N’s bra fell, and she couldn’t stifle a moan as yoongi’s mouth found one of her nipples, swirling it around his tongue before leaving soft bites around her breast. He gave the same attention to the other one before looking up atY/N.

His eyes were wide, innocent compared to what he was doing. She felt frozen in time, staring down at this man with his scuffed jeans and clean fingernails that rested on her thighs. There was so much she didn’t know about him, so much she wanted to ask, so much she couldn’t. Who was Yoongi, what did he want in life, and what about him made him so captivating. He was looking up at her too. She averted her eyes, suddenly feeling vulnerable in the backseat of the car. How much had he seen in her own eyes?

Yoongi opened his mouth to say something, but Y/N palmed at his arousal through his jeans before he could, replacing his words with a hearty moan. The moment was gone, and yoongi wasted no time in slipping his hands under the fabric of her skirt. Y/N pushed his head back, leaving hickies along his collarbone as she undid his belt. He became putty under her, whining at every nip and touch she sent his way. He helped her push his jeans and boxers down to his ankles, his erection dividing the space between them.

Yoongi’s fingers pushed her underwear aside, teasing at the wet folds of her pussy. He pushed two fingers inside of her, leaning back as he watched her ride them. She forced herself to move at an agonizingly slow pace, sinking all the way down to his knuckles. Yoongi’s hand gripped the side of her face, and y/n started to suck on his thumb. Precum leaked out of his tip, smearing across Y/N’s belly, Yoongi’s thumb leaving her mouth as she moaned out his name. She lifted up off of his fingers after a few more pumps, using his shoulders to steady himself. He licked his fingers, not breaking eye contact, before lining up the tip of his dick to her entrance. He didn’t move, and Y/N’s forehead fell against his.

“Move.” she ordered him. He leaned his head away from hers with a smirk.

“Good girls beg for it.” he whispered, eyes scanning over her face. She let out a huff before sarcastically starting to say, “oh pretty please, won’t you fuck me”. Yoongi entered her before she could finish, y/n failing to stifle a moan as he filled her up. He stopped when he was fully inside her.

“Beg for it.” He repeated, and she complied immediately.

“Yoongi please fuck me, I’m your good girl. I’ll always be your good girl.” Yoongi growled at her words, grabbing at her hips so he can control how fast she moved. He wasted no time picking up speed, guiding Y/N’s hips up and down on his dick, the car filling up with the sounds of skin against each other and moans. The windows were starting to fog at their heavy breaths.

Y/N was struggling to keep up at the pace Yoongi set, feeling like she could finish at any moment. Yoongi looked up at her again, her hair slightly frizzed out and eyes clenched shut in bliss. It was the first time he really got a good look at her, and god was she beautiful. He had been around, and he had never seemed to care this much about a hookup before. Her movements started to get a little sloppy, and he knew she was close. Yoongi pressed two fingers against her clit as he continued to fuck her, hips rolling faster as his on release neared.

In a few more thrusts she came undone, his name and profanities rolling off her tongue in a jumbled mess. Her head fell into his neck, and Yoongi pulled out, pumping himself a few more times before coming on his chest. Y/N lay on top of him, trying to get her mind and breathing back in order. They lay like that, long enough for Yoongi to think that falling asleep was a viable option. Y/N rolled off of him, sitting down in the back seat next to him. They dressed and cleaned quietly, but it was a comfortable silence. When they were clothed, Yoongi cautiously pulled y/n into his side.

“When do you leave?” Yoongi asked, finally breaking the silence. He was looking down at the top of her head, waiting for a response.

“Whenever I want to.” He scoffed at her witty remark, but didn’t question any further. They sat there for a while before y/n decided she’d better get home before her aunt calls the cops trying to find her. Yoongi instinctively grabbed for her hand, leading her back through the cars and tall grass, only letting go to help her hop the fence. His hand found a new place on her thigh as he drove her home, singing aloud badly to old songs on the radio. Yoongi laughed a good heart laugh for the first time in a long time on that car ride, and when he pulled into the driveway of that clean suburban house, he wished for just one more moment.

“I guess I’ll see you around?” Y/N asked, feeling tonight’s adventure coming to a close.

“There’s a meet next week.” Yoongi suddenly blurted out. “I mean like a race. You should come, I’d love to see you there.” Y/N smiled at him before biting her lip back. She leaned forward and gave him a chaste kiss.

“I’d like that.” She said before giggling and jumping out of the car without another word. Yoongi watched her jog up the walkway, only turning back once she reached the door for a quick wave before disappearing inside. Yoongi couldn’t stop smiling the whole way home, hell, the whole rest of the week. He’d go to bed every night and dream of seeing her again, of looking up in the stands and see her cheering for him. His heart raced all the way up until that day of the meet, more excited to see her than to be nervous about the race.

He wished he could say his heart broke quick and fast, but it didn’t. With every second that she didn’t show, the knife dug deeper into his chest. The older men only teased him for being so naive, offering him beers to replace his sadness. Yoongi didn’t win the race that day, but the part he could never come to terms with was how he lost someone he didn’t even know.

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imnotwolverine · 3 years

Text

Free writing - Mom And The Mushrooms

Author’s note: Again -- if you’re here for the Henry content you can skip this one. I can’t find any inspiration for Henry stories at the moment, so I thought I’d share one of my ‘free writing’ stories instead. I’m super nervous about sharing this with you, but..ever tried ever failed, right?😅

Mom And The Mushrooms

Warnings: Dystopian, character death, food poisoning, grief

Word count: 3.607 (13 min. reading time)

Phase 1: Denial

They had to be kidding right?

With a shaking jumble the train came to yet another screeching halt. And we weren’t even there yet.

Would they throw me out here? In this suburban, white picketed wilderness? I could see the grass growing thigh high. Trees poking out through the roofs of houses that had once been the wet dream of every newly-wed nuclear family.

If only they had known what would come of the world.

Leaning into the large glass window, I let my eyes wander. There wasn’t even a platform in sight, the rails tracking for miles ahead before I could make out the silhouette of my hometown in the distance. It was no more but a bluer shade of blue in the crisp sky. Like a fever dream that I so eagerly wanted to wake up from right now. I didn’t want to be here. In this train. Going home. Or whatever was left of home.

I watched as two blue uniformed men passed outside my window. Train crew. Their stubby fingers letting factory rolled cigarettes dance as smoke puffed from their lips, their moustaches curling up with something that might just be a smile. I hadn’t seen people smile for years. So, sure. It was a little weird.

Would they throw me out here? With a speeding heart I watched them, but they walked on. Onward to the nose of the train, their pace glacial as they sauntered on side by side. Why were they so happy? Idiots.

Sighing, I rested back into the coffee stained bench, the old raggedy fabric reminding me of the long years this train had been in service. It was a miracle that it still managed to move out here once a week. In between the mighty storms, floods, hurricanes and what not. It was a miracle that people still dared to go out in this wilderness. Myself included. Though, I obviously didn’t have much of a choice.

Simmering quietly, my attention was drawn to an old broadcaster that crackled to life. The sound resembled something that might have once sounded human. But right now it sounded more like metallic gibberish. Hard to discern and probably also hardly important.

“Kggg--zz running int-----resume in a tsssskk --”

*click*

It was the last stop before we finally arrived in my hometown. Home. Pff. They had to be kidding right?

Phase 2: Anger

Home was a town without a name. The sign was long stolen and had never been replaced. RB04 - Midhaven. That’s what it was called. For it was located exactly in the middle of two supercities; 8LU3 - Blue City and R3D - Red City.

It was the only town that still had a few inhabitants for miles to come. And it had a shop too, my feet dragging inside as I tugged my suitcase along. The copper bell by the door tolled loudly and I couldn’t help myself but think: I fucking hate this.

‘Angel?’ A halfling sized man walked out from behind the counter, his head appearing from behind a rack with candied bars past their expiration date. He looked a century older, and perhaps an inch or so smaller. But he was still Bub. He still had that stupid smile on his face. That spiky white hair. A near toothless smile. Why did these people ever smile? What was there to smile about?

‘Bub.’ - I sounded tired.

The man’s furry brows lifted, and for a moment I wondered if he could see me at all.

‘You look terrible.’ - Fair enough, he did.

I shrugged. ‘Much like this town.’

For a moment we just stared at each other as a strange energy crackled in the late afternoon air, the rest of the small shop completely abandoned. Then again; so was most of this town. The bell behind my head ringed again, this time by a gust of autumn wind that washed inside, breaking the silence. Bub cleared his gravelly throat.

‘You’re here for ye mum’s stuff?’

‘I am.’

His brows furrowed even more, before finally he turned his attention to the counter, small feet shuffling back until I could see no more of him but the few white hairs that poked out over the wooden counter. I could see him move to and fro, but I was too tired, upset..and perhaps a touch angry, to be willing to care.

‘Tis been long since last I saw you.’ He spoke from behind the counter. ‘You a grand cuisine cook now?’

I felt my gut drop and face sour. I wish I could say I had. I had promised I would. But I had failed. I was a fucking, miserable failure. I hated myself. I was angry at myself. And had I just been better, smarter, faster...and less of an expensive mushroom stealing mess..I wouldn’t be here. They wouldn’t have cast me out. I could have made my mother proud.

I could still hear her voice: “Don’t forget about us - because we won’t forget about you. And know I’ll always be here for you.”

Well that was a lie. She was proclaimed dead and I was here, alone. Or well, sort of. Bub was still around. And for some odd reason I believed he was one of those immortal beings, ready to even outlive me, the last girl to ever be born in Midhaven. He was like one of those wizard-like creatures that offered you omens and odd jokes. In fact the only thing he missed was a bushy full beard. He sure got the humour right. I think. I mean, society wasn’t about fun. I had learned that the hard way in the last ten years as I worked my way up in the kitchen of The White Hall.

Fuck. I hated myself, for making such a mess of my life. And what in the hell was Bub doing back there?

I peeked over the counter but couldn’t see more than Bub’s spiky white hair. ‘So..how are you Bub?’

He didn’t respond and I decided to just breathe and let my anger fizzle and eyes wander. This shop had been here since I was young. It was all artificial foods. Tasteless crap. Quick, easy, cheap. No animals hurt. No nature hurt. No nature even needed.

I hated that, too; for true beauty, taste and pleasure, a little hurt is needed. That’s what the kitchen taught me. You’ve gotta sear, steam, salt, dry and beat your ingredients if you want to make them taste like anything. Pain. Pleasure. Perfection.

Perhaps that was the silver lining of my return. It sure hurt good.

Bub returned from behind the counter with a key on a keychain, the red colour of the cord faded.

‘No need to bother with the pleasantries.’ Bub finally answered, a little defeated. ‘Miryam died. The boys left for the city. Business is terrible. Do you want anything else?’

I looked down at the small man and felt something that might just be a pang of sympathy. I hadn’t felt sympathy in a long time and it made me uncomfortable to say the least. In my time as a sous-chef, sympathy was the last skill I’d ever need to use. I just had to perform, perform, perform!

I quietly took the keychain and looked back into the dusty old shop, wondering.

‘Did the farm close down?’ My eye fell on the corner where some fresh produce had once been displayed; the empty crates looked too dusty for my question to even need answering.

‘A long time ago. Yes. There’s no business to be done in onions and leeks no more.’

‘Shame.’

‘Gotta blame the people.’

Another silence fell and for another moment we just looked at each other. A small smile formed on Bub’s wrinkly little mouth and I sighed. Could you really blame the people when they simply couldn’t even afford good food if they wanted to? I retaliated.

‘You’re right. And eh, give me some of the red stuff.’

Bub nodded and picked one off the long row of identically red labeled cans, his small body wobbling as the contents shifted his center of gravity.

‘This should keep you stuffed for a good week. Anything else?’

‘Nope. That’s all.’ I took the can from him. ‘How much is it?’

His smile grew. ‘One home cooked meal.’

I wasn’t sure if I was going mad by that point, but I swear that man had just asked me to cook for him. And it wasn’t likely to be warming up this red goopy goo. I looked down at the can and then the man, confusion crawling over my tired face.

‘What now?’

‘Your mother taught you to forage, right? I haven’t had a proper good meal in…’ He raised a brow as if thinking. ‘..ages.’

I blinked at him as he walked back to his hiding spot behind the counter, the deal apparently made.

‘I have some pig’s grease stacked away. Not much. But enough. See you tomorrow?’

I knew I should say no. In fact I had almost sworn to never cook again as they had thrown me on this train today. But something deep inside of me sang to Bub’s words. Begged me to consider. Perhaps it were the rich autumn smells in the air. Luscious and fungal. Perhaps it was my grumbling stomach combined with the hopeful glint I saw in Bub’s eyes. In any way. Before I knew it, the word was out.

‘O-okay.’ I breathed.

‘Great. See you tomorrow, Angel.’

Phase 3: Bargaining

They had never found my mom’s body. And laying here in my mom’s bed, I could swear she had been here only hours earlier. I could still smell her. That nauseating combination of heady flowery scents. Even now it made me a little sick in the stomach. Honeysuckle, herby, rosy..skunk.

I had despised this smell with a passion, but for the moment it gave me comfort. And perhaps even hope. Perhaps my mom wasn’t really dead. Perhaps she had just met a new man and moved to a new apartment further down town. Perhaps, she had just forgotten to send me an update. I mean. I never sent her updates about my life. So who could blame her? Oh mom. You crazy, crazy woman.

I rolled over in bed and inhaled deeply. Memorizing the dizzying smells combined with the wisp of morning air as it moved in through the cracked open window. It smelled devine. Like wet dirt and sunshine. So very different from the pristine clean smells of the city, which were all chemical and dispassionate.

In nature smells had a goal. To entice. To warn. To taste. To .. love. And my mom had been just that. Always completely and utterly in love. With nature, beasts.. and men. Let’s not forget about men.

Rolling out of bed I trudged into the small apartment, flowery cushions layered with dust and vines moving in through the cracks in the walls. I took a few testy bites of the red goo, but decided that I might as well move out and see if Bub had been right. Whether I could forage at all.

The morning was still surprisingly cool, my fingers wrapping urgently around my city-girl coat to keep warm. My practical shoes beat a steady rhythm on the pavements and for long quiet moments I remembered my youth here. There had been more people then. There had still been a school, some bars, jobs, families. But right now they all seemed to have left. Just like my mom had. Away from this overgrown misery. Million dollar misery.

My mom had once told me that these car wrecks by the road had once been driven by the richest of the richest. They’d sit in the back and have drivers drive them to important business meetings in the tops of the highest skyscrapers. They’d wear sleek tuxedo’s and go to fancy balls. They’d go dancing with pretty women. On live music, played on real instruments. And they’d have food. The best that money could buy.

Right now those cars were no more but rusty wreckages. Bugatti. Astin Martin. Ferrari. The city had swallowed them back up, large trees now growing around them, breaking up the cracked tarmac like spindly green fingers.

In the distance I could see some movement. A herd of deer. And though I knew there would be animals, I could still feel my heart race at the sight of their fluffy white butts, nervous cheeks halting their chewing as they noticed my presence. I held my breath and waited, but they fled all the same. Softly their hooves clacked as they jumped through the city jungle. One by one. A great buck following them last, large antlers reaching out like roots from his head.

‘Everything is connected dear. The people, the plants, the trees, the earth and the sky. We’re all connected, living the circle of life. Over and over and over. And that’s not scary. That’s beautiful.’

I could hear my mom as we’d saunter through the wilder parts of the city. Picking herbs to make that watery drink. What was it called again? Ah yes. Tea. My sweetness, I had missed tea. And, I missed mom.

Taking a steadying breath I calmed my escalating thoughts, instead focusing on my journey for today. Today, I was going to cook Bub a meal. And this time I would not have to steal the ingredients. No, I’d find them myself. Thank you very much.

‘This is divine!’ Bub exclaimed with a full mouth.

I smiled woefully and looked down at the mushroom stew I had managed to make with the meagre bounty I had gathered. I could have done better probably. But it was good enough for Bub. He was humming and buzzing with every bite.

‘Say Bub..’ I swallowed and looked up at the small man who barely managed to reach out above the table’s edge.

‘Yes Angel?’

‘I never heard how she died.’

Bub stopped chewing and licked his lips. He sighed and slowly shook his head. ‘A broken heart I’m sure. If ever I saw one so passionate about her man, she was it.’

‘And then he left her.’

‘He did.’

‘And you..saw she was dead?’

Bub realised what I was aiming at and huffed softly. ‘Dear. I am so sorry. It must be painful to be back here. All the memories. With your mom especially. I mean. It is difficult with there being no body and all. But she is gone. She is. She was never one to leave without a trace. A sign. A note. A goodbye...’

I didn’t listen as he rambled on. Because as I looked down at my meal I somewhere deep down knew that he was absolutely right.

Scene 4: Depression

I probably shouldn’t have pushed my grief away for so long. Back home my body decided it was time for a cleanse. And it sure wasn’t pretty. I sat on the toilet for hours. And for hours I wondered if I perhaps should have put that red goo some place cooler. Did I get food poisoning?

Slow hours passed and I felt dehydrated and exhausted by the time I could lay back down on my mom’s bed again, my dreams after fitful until morning came again.

The next day there was little I could do. I had hoped that I’d see some familiar faces around other than Bub. But the streets were deserted and for hours I’d just wander, reminiscing the old days. I was glad I felt somewhat better. Physically that is. Mentally I was but a shadow of my old, confident self. I had never felt grief before, so I figured I had to just occupy my body until my mind would be too tired to think.

I had nothing left to live for. I had lost my permit to live in the City. My job. My savings. My mom. My ..home. And all I could think of was that it was all my fault. I had left my mom all those years ago. I had made that decision without her. I just went, angry and spiteful of her dreamy daze that got us nowhere.

For long years I didn’t speak or update my mom. But she did update me. The beauty of personal codes was that you couldn’t simply disappear. Updates would always find you when you were in the land of the living.

Should I send my mom an update? See if she’d respond?

I looked down at my feet, their soles no longer touching tarmac but sand, the sediment carried into the streets after centuries of howling winds. And before me there were trees. Not the spindly kind like in my mom’s neighbourhood. But ancient trees, their leaves all fallen down in deep shades of red, purple and yellow, the sun tickling through their bald branches.

And then I could feel rain. Timid at first. Teasing my hair and face as I looked up into the grey sky. I felt the small bullets of truth rain down on me. Torturing me with their cold little kisses. And my eyes started to burn. I knew my mom was dead. I just knew it. I had known it deep in my gut when I had gotten the obituary statement of the legal council. I had known it when Bub had sent word for me - he never did. I had known it when I had waved it away, stating to my colleagues that this was just my mom trying to make me come home.

I hadn’t come home to her then. I hadn’t looked for her. I had stayed. And now I was too late. All I had was the rain as I crumbled and cried beneath the weight. Of defeat.

I failed you mom.

Phase 5: Acceptance

After my poor night, I figured that the red goo was probably the cause of my digestional problems. And so, after I picked myself up and dried my tears, I scavenged for more food. And I was more successful this time too. The forest I had found offered a great source of roots and herbs. Herbs with which i made my first tea in years. And though the tea tasted alright, it wasn’t as great as when my mom made it. I missed my mom.

Slow days passed like that. Scavenging, foraging, cooking and sleeping. I wondered if this was what my life would be now. Had my mom really died of a broken heart? And if yes; could I? I’d wander and wonder. My feet hitting the streets with a little more confidence each day. And perhaps it was just madness kicking in, but I could swear I heard voices. First far away, making me drift around and search for human life. Then closer by; I realised they came from the earth.

‘Everything is connected.’

My mom had been right. She had once explained that many plants had huge root systems and that there were theories they could sense each other. Even sense each other’s pain. So perhaps, just maybe, they were sensing my pain, too.

The idea was absolutely absurd. I knew it was. But it did bring me some much needed comfort. I had even tried to find Bub and ask him about those roots, but he hadn’t been in his shop. Shop closed, come back later, the little sign on his door had stated. And so I did what any good scientist would do. I started to investigate.

The sky was so.. blue. Spreading my hands out over the soft warm moss, I looked through the small glade up at the tall tree branches and away into the eternal skies. I wasn’t quite sure when I had lain down. And if someone had come up and told me I had been laying here for years, then perhaps I would have simply agreed. I could feel those roots beneath me, clawing at me, fusing with me. Dragging me down until my body was but mush.

I could hear them too. Much louder now, especially here in this little sunny glade, a small mound risen like a small bed just for me. I had lain down some minutes, hours, days or years ago, and what a fine bed it was. Mossy, musky and sweet, I let it soothe me as my body started to beg and plead. First quietly, but by now it had become aggravating and paralyzing. I couldn’t as much as lift my fingers by this point now the aches started to grow in strength. It felt as if I was truly falling apart as I rooted into my new existence here at the bottom of these trees.

If you want to make your food taste like anything a little hurt is needed. You gotta sear, steam, salt, dry and beat. Pain. Pleasure. Perfection.

One week ago I lost it all. My house, income, job, future. It lost it all. But now, looking up at the blue sky, voices singing to me, those worries seemed so unimportant. Everything was alright. I was here. Back to my roots. Broken and bruised and hurting all over, I smiled. For the first time in years I smiled. Because as I lay here I realised it no longer mattered. I would never leave again.

‘I’m home mom.’ I muttered, my speech slurred as my body started to seize and shake.

I had made a mistake. That much was clear now. Because as I lay here, writhing and dying, I knew: it hadn’t been the city that would take me down, but the mushrooms. The mushrooms!

The end.

Author’s note: I might share some more free writing stories in the future if any of you are interested. But please..! I know you’re here to thirst over Henry (and so am I), so do not feel obligated to like, comment and reblog - though it is of course always most appreciated! Sending you my love dear readers and I hope you’re having a good weekend ❤️

Sources of inspiration: For my short stories I’m diving head first in a lot of interesting articles I’ve archived over the years. For this particular story I’ve delved into the world of the five stages of grieving, as well as the magical world of mushrooms. Did you know that the mushroom you see is but a tiny part of a much larger, growing being? You can somewhat compare mushrooms to apples, as mushrooms are but the fruit that are formed by the much larger mycelium that is found beneath the earth; always prepping to produce more ‘fruit’ when the atmosphere and moisture level is just right. The more you know...

#free writing #something else #henry cavill writing block #please send help

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andy-clutterbuck · 9 months

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5x11 | The Distance

#*nature documentary narrator voice* this bear seems a bit agitated #Rick Grimes #*#rg #S5 #are you even alive if feral wildman rick didn't speak to some nasty part of your brain #it's a no from me #more dirt and grease and beard and aggravation than man #stop hiding him in the dark i don't care about realism #i hope they lit the spinoff with at least 2 glowsticks #carry me back to your cave #if i lay here.....if i just lay here....you could step on me and that'd be fine

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antwine69 · 5 years

Note

Can you do a BJ x reader where the reader is his s/o from a long time ago and they died. And BJ couldn't find them in the Netherworld(like Lydia with Emily). And then one day they're finally reunited and the Maitlands and Lydia are just confused af? Sorry it's so specific :-)

This is super interesting!! Thank you!

Gender Neutral reader!

Fluffy kinda angsty fic type deal!

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Report 20456705:

The same guy was here today, Beetlejuice or whatever his name was. He begged and pleaded to find the same human again, not that anybody ever finds anybody here, especially when they come down specifically to find a lost one. Oh well. I'm sure it's nothing, and there's nothing we can really do. Signing off.

Beetlejuice ran a hand through his hair, leaning on the wall in the alleyway. Tears slid down his face, but he didn't even try to stop them. He was sobbing. Sobbing unapologetically loud, but it's not like anybody cared. They were all busy with their "lives". All too busy to help. He hiccuped, trying to calm himself, but it just ended in another fit of sobs and pleas to whatever God was out there to bring you back. You. His only pride, his only joy, his only light in the world. You were ripped away from him. He had always thought he could just come down here and get you, but no. No. Of course not. Life never made it that easy for him.

The demon curled up into a sitting up fetal position, sobbing into his knees. He couldn't contain it. Not that he really tried. He came back one day, to the Deetz's house, in a rage. Mabye you'd hid from him there. He ravaged the house. He had never seen any of his friends so terrified before. It wasn't in the good way either. It was in the "quietly staring and running away from him crying" type of terrified. He was crying too. He doubted they were even really his friends anymore, seeing as they never bothered to summon him again. Not that he'd wanted them to. After a while he just returned to the Neitherworld. He'd had an apartment here once but it got taken from him when he left the first time. So he'd just been wandering the streets, looking for you. He didn't need sleep, so each day, night and every second of his life had been spendt searching. Nothing. He had traveled further and further into the Neitherworld but it was just so endless. He couldn't do this anymore! Mabye.... you'd already forgotten about him.

This is where you enter back into the story. You were just walking down the street, minding your own business, thinking of things like trying to remember your apartment number and what you were going to have for lunch. That's when you heard it. A sob. A sob that pooled pure sadness into your stomach. You remembered it. You were alive when you heard it the first time. You'd done something wrong, you'd said something stupid, you fought but you couldn't remember with who. Quickly, you ran toward it, quicker than you had ever ran for anything. The sobs were coming from an alleyway, and in that alleyway sat a disheveled looking man. He had a striped suit on, dirt covering it in stains, rips all over the edges of it. His hair was the deepest blue you had ever seen, it was bordering on black, white streaks swimming in it like fish in the deep sea. ``Sir? Sir, are you alright?`` you asked, crouching down beside him, touching his shoulder. Your voice echoed through the alleyway, him seemingly shuddering at it. The man looked up at you, his face covered in tears and snot and sadness. But, it turned to shere suprise as he met your gaze.

In an instant he had tackled you to the ground, wrapping his arms around you. You got ready to fight back, but he just sobbed into the crook of your neck, muttering something. He.... he was muttering your name. How did this Hobo know your name? Finally, after what seemed like and eternity of him sobbing and you trying to calm him down, he sat up a bit, looking at you. Tears were still running down his already tear-streaked face. ``Do you... remember me, Babes?`` he asked. You scanned him. His hair was almost wet looking from grease and was hanging in front of his eyes, his beard was unkempt and he smelled like earth, dust and sweat. ``I'm... Sorry, Sir, I don't know who you are...`` you said, deciding to tell the truth. It wasn't like he could kill you, so you were only in a little bit of danger if you upset this guy.

Beetlejuice froze. He knew the memories of people drained when they came to the Neitherworld, that way they wouldn't miss their old life, but were the effects really this quick? He wrapped his arms around you again, beginning to sob. ``Please, Please say you remember. I can't- you can't- please... please....`` he pleaded, unable to form sentences. It felt as though his heart physically broke. It felt as though the world would crumble if he let go of you. You had to remember. You had to. You had to. You had-

``B... Beetlejuice?`` you muttered, but he heard. He slowly let go, looking at you yet again. He gave a careful nod. This time it was your turn to sob, wrapping your arms around him. After a while you couldn't tell who was sobbing more, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. ``I thought you-``

He cut you off ``I know, Babes. I thought that too. It... It doesn't matter, okay? We're together now. Let's.... Let's go home.`` he said, his voice raspy and weak, him really just now coming down from the high of searching for you. His hair was now starting to bloom in an almost glowing green, a green akin to those glow-in-the-dark stars you hung up on your ceiling as a kid. You nodded, him scooping you up and rushing off. You weren't sure if you were flying or if you were running. It didn't matter.

Beetlejuice carefully put you down, as though he would break you if he placed you down to hard. You were home. At the Deetz's. Beetlejuice's hair suddenly flushed with a dark blue, seeing a claw mark on the wall. He really ravaged the house. He had almost forgotten. ``What if they don't want me here?`` he thought out loud. You kissed him on the cheek, a flash of green running through his hair as you did.

``It'll be okay, Love.`` you said, grabbing his hand and together you walked into the livingroom. And there they were. The Deetz and The Maitlands. All doing their own thing. The first to notice you was, of course Lydia. She jumped up, running toward the both of you, already crying. The Maitlands were second, also running up and hugging you, both of them trying to make it seem like they weren't crying. Even Delia and Charles were happy to see you. There were a lot of tears, but you were together now. There was a lot to work through, but it didn't matter. It was all over now.

Report 20456706:

Today the same Beetlejuice guy flew out out of here, carrying a resident. He yelled something along the lines of ``I found them!! Suck it!`` I decided it was best not to stop him. Anybody who can actually find someone in the Neitherworld is a force to be reckoned with.

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Yee haw!! Angst hours lads!! I took some creative liberties whoops-

Hope it's still okay!

See y'all forces to be reckoned with in the Neitherworld! Peace and much Love!!

#beetlejuice fluff #beetlejuice angst #beetlejuice x reader #beetlegeuse #beetlejuice #x reader #angst #fluff #light angst #sort of angst #x gender neutral reader

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rallis-fatalis · 4 years

Text

The Price of Freedom

Wanted to try something a little different and give my RS3 dragon an origin fic. Get a feel for the character and maybe think about doing more content about them. Who knows where this will lead, if anywhere, but for now please enjoy the first story of Astrath the black dragon.

The sun had not begun to rise yet. All of Ardougne was quiet. Even the ever-screeching monkeys in the zoo down the way were silent. One creature began to stir, however, in this silent city before even the sun woke. In the greatest mansion money could buy, with the most grandeur zoo you ever did see, one creature crawled out of their bed of dead grass and filthy shredded garden trimmings. The dead and dying plant-life created a nest that could hardly fit a fat hen, and yet a whole dragon managed to curl into a ball small enough where only their tail stuck too far out. The dragon was as shadowy black as the night sky and just as beautiful. They blended into the darkness of the morning perfectly save for a tacky bright gold collar emblazoned with the serpentine sigil of House Krawley, one of the oldest and richest families of East Ardougne. They were avid rivals of House Handelmort in their goal to create rare exotic collections no one had ever seen before, but while the Handelmorts procured material items of great wealth and rarity, the Krawleys collected creatures to put on display, and they weren't as shy to show it off.

It was here in the Krawleys' expansive manor yards the black dragon began to awaken. They brushed the bits of grass off them and quietly got ready for the day, not that they had much to do anyway. Being treated like an animal meant no clothing or any amenities one would consider the standard for a person. The best the dragon could do was shine their scales in the water bin. Their breakfast was whatever foul leftovers they hadn't finished for dinner the night before, disgusting meat more akin to carrion only a monster could stomach. They waited by the entrance to their cage when they were ready, and soon a young lady in a maid's outfit tiptoed over to open the doors. Despite being a dragon, the maid wasn't much shorter than the beast. The dragon only stood a few inches under six feet and walked on two legs instead of four. Their seven regal horns made them seem taller than they actually were. They looked more like a dragonkin humanity so feared and despised than an actual dragon, with its two arms, legs, and wings, and its pointed draconic face. Though this dragon had a tail, one advantage it had over those towering terrors of a monster.

The maid held open the cage door. "Good morning, Astrath," she whispered. She was a charming young lady with a sweet face framed by an adorable red bob of hair. "You're supposed to stand guard in the dining hall today when Lord Sirius' guests arrive. I'll escort you to get changed. And here, I snuck this from the kitchen for you. Today is going to be a long day."

The maid pulled a wrapped slice of melon out of her pocket and discretely handed it over, looking around in fear she would get caught. The dragon's blank face cracked the hint of a thankful smile as they took the treat. "Thank you, Mari. What would I do without you?" The dragon scarfed it down hungrily and followed the maid to a shack down the way. The two passed by many sleeping beasts; wyverns, proper dragons, basilisks, and more slept soundly in their cages, all with the same tacky gold collar around their necks. This was the reptilian part of the zoo, and every beast's collar held dosages of a taming agent. Should the animal try to escape or fight back, they were sedated using a mechanism in their collar. If they were too out of control, the collar could also send enough of that agent into their bloodstream to kill them. This was especially true of the reptile enclosures, where most collars contained hints of dragonsbane within the sedative. Astrath hated their damned collar.

The maid, Marianne, led the dragon to a small guard shack and unlocked the door. Inside were uniforms, weapons, and all sorts of equipment the guards of the house regularly used. Astrath had a set of clothes and pair of swords in there as well, having been promoted from animal attraction to animal attraction that also guarded their captors. Normally, Astrath would stay in their cage to be ooh'd and aah'd at by the fellow rich that paid to see such wonderful creatures, sometimes being forced to put on a show or show the patrons how they knew how to speak Common and act like a person. But today was different. Lord Sirius Krawley had guests dining with him this morning and wherever he went a guard was meant to follow. And what a perfect chance to show off his very own talking dragon than today when the beast was meant to shadow him.

Astrath's things weren't placed upon a hanger or neatly folded on a shelf like all the other uniforms. The other guards made a point to tarnish the dragon's attire in hopes the Lords would reprimand and punish the beast. More often than not, they were. Astrath found their clothes on the filthy floor, covered in dirt and stepped on. They dusted the dirt off their outfit as best they could before putting it on. It was a black cloth top stitched with the golden sigil of House Krawley on the chest, a serpent coiling around a gem with its fangs sunk into the top, colored the Krawley colors of black and gold. Black metal pauldrons lined with gold sat on the shoulders. A black metal skirt trimmed with gold sat around their waist, and regimental black boots climbed up to their knees. The boots were the worst part. They were awkwardly made and bent Astrath's claws in painful ways and made them clumsy. Trying to force their wings through the shoddily stitched holes in the back of the top was almost just as bad.

Marianne checked in. "Are you ready?"

Astrath grunted with a nod and swung their two crystalline swords over their back into the sheaths. Those were always uncomfortably heavy when combined with the weighted bindings that held their wings shut.

"You be careful today," Astrath muttered. "Lord Sirius is always more strict when he has guests. And his son... Stay out of sight and mind."

"You be careful too. You have a much shorter temper than me. Whatever you do, don't insult his guests. I don't want to watch you go without food for a week again."

"I'll try my best." Astrath gave her a compassionate touch of the tail and the two made their way to the manor. Through this horrible life as a servant and pet, at least they had one person they could think of as a friend. Astrath didn't know what they'd do without Marianne.

The inside of the manor was disgustingly rich. Nearly every object was trimmed with gold, from the cloth rugs and drapes to the marble dining table and mahogany chairs. The room was heavily perfumed, making Astrath want to gag. The woes of having a sensitive nose. The dragon stood silently and waited for Lord Sirius to make his way downstairs for morning tea, as still as the gold plated statues behind them.

Slow footsteps broke the morning silence. Lord Sirius Krawley made his way to the dining room where his servants waited for him to be seated so they could pour him tea. Astrath stood as formally as they could, ready to move should the Lord need anything. Despite his age, Lord Sirius was an imposing figure. Not for his size, no, but for his wicked eyes and bone chilling stare that bored into your soul. His greying beard and hair were always meticulously managed, and his mustache greased to a point. Even his morning robe of black and gold held no wrinkles and flowed elegantly and perfectly. A servant waited for him to be seated before pushing his chair in and serving him tea and cookies. Another retrieved the morning news for him to peruse. The servants bowed and left to ready the grand meal that would take place in only another short hour. For a while all was quiet save the occasional sip of tea and munch of cookie. As Lord Sirius finished the first page of the news, he huffed and put down the paper.

"Astrath," Sirius said without even looking at them.

The dragon stood even straighter.

"Your shirt is wrinkled. You understand I have very important guests arriving soon, yes?"

The man's rough voice grew rougher as he spoke. He was not pleased. "Yes my Lord, I do. Someone had taken my clothes and thrown them to the--"

"I don't want excuses," Sirius silenced them abruptly. "I want solutions. Fix it before my guests arrive."

Astrath bowed and waited for the Lord to finish tea before escorting him to the next group of waiting servants and rushing off to heat the wrinkles out of their shirt.

Time passed, the sun rose, the dining hall was packed with food and servants waiting to greet the guests that would soon be arriving. Lord Sirius stood at the ready, and his son had come down as well, Lord Franz Krawley. The son was far worse than the father, an absolutely demonic human being. He adored his father's creature collection growing up and knew he would make it his own one day. Even as a child he made sure every creature knew who he was and made sure they respected him. If they didn't, he would find new creative ways to make their lives hell. Sometimes he did it anyway even if they did respect him. The boy lived to cause suffering and pain in others, and despite being 22 he acted 20 years younger than that.

Franz smirked as he strode up to Astrath. He enjoyed teasing them the most since the beast could actually think and he knew they had a short temper. "Good morning, lizard," he sassed. Astrath did not show their offense, staying poker faced as ever. "Wow, you won't even greet your master? How rude."

"My apologies, my Lord. Good morning, Lord Franz."

"That's better," he smirked. "Don't make me tell you to greet me again, lest I get offended."

"It would never be my intention to offend you," Astrath replied. "I will not forget."

"I know you won't. Because if I get upset, you might be too." The young man brought his hand to the dragon's collar and grinned as he felt the beast stiffen nervously. "I will be watching you the whole time today, just waiting for you to give me an excuse. Give me a reason to play with your life today, I beg you." He fiddled with a small contraption on his belt, a runic mechanism that activated the collar.

"Franz," a stern voice called. "Come greet our guests."

Franz smirked and strode to the front entrance, giving the dragon enough time to steady themselves and mentally prepare for the breakfast that was about to get underway.

House Krawley entertained four guests that morning, the Lord and Lady of two other notable Houses nowhere near as wealthy or important as Krawley. Even still, Sirius put on his best face and treated them like kings and queens. They too were avid collectors and it was his goal to have them part with some of their beasts for his own collection. Sirius sat at the head of the table with his son at his side while the other four sat on the sides. Another seat remained empty for Lady Krawley who was currently away on a trip. The couple from House Merille were fat and spoiled, eyeing the food hungrily and hardly giving their host the time of day until they began to stuff their faces. Their overly stuffed puffy clothing bounced as they ate. Or was that their obscene obesity? It was hard to tell. The couple from House Darry were far more sophisticated and polite, making conversation before beginning to eat. It seemed mosquito-like noses were a must in that family. Astrath wondered how they didn't get in the way of eating. The five of them discussed mundane things as Franz eyed the stoic dragon guard that watched the discussions unfold, fingers always resting on the collar mechanism. The dragon listened intently but didn't show it. They were meant to stand like a statue out of sight and guard, so they did just that. Soon they breached the topic of buying and trading for their collections, discussing their monstrous menageries.

Lord Merille spoke up. "Let us get to the point now, yes? You desire a pair of my kurasks. They are quite large and require much space and food and from what I've seen your menagerie is quite full. Where would you be putting such beasts? Perhaps you would be willing to trade some dragons. You certainly have quite a few."

"I have no dragons to trade. Not until the reds breed again," Sirius informed.

All four guests deflated. "I thought you had some black dragons to spare," Lady Darry said.

"Had is correct. I traded them for a pair of shadow drakes."

The four muttered in awe over the mention of such beasts and how good a find they were. Lord Franz piped up. "Good trade indeed! They were that thing's parents." He pointed to Astrath standing guard nearby. "The only good thing about their offspring is how unique it looks."

Lady Merille gasped. "Oh my! That's one of yours? My goodness I thought it was a statue! May I take a closer look?"

Lord Sirius motioned as if to say "of course."

Lady Merille bounced over and got nose to nose with the black dragon, completely unafraid by the fact that the beast could spew fire. "The beast is stunning. Those jet black scales and bright purple eyes, and such a regal looking crest of horns, how beautiful. I see why you have this one on display."

"How did you come across a bipedal dragon?" Lord Darry asked. "I thought they could only happen between those lizard beasts and they can't even breed!"

"There are a few ways," Sirius started. "I won't pretend I know the origins of this one's line, but I had an easy time. Both its parents were bipedals as well."

"And you sold them off?!" Lady Darry exclaimed. "What an outrage! You could have controlled the market on them and created the line for generations to come!"

"No we couldn't," Franz laughed. "That thing is infertile. All children that come from those two would be. They're useless!"

Astrath ground their teeth. Their parents were not useless.

"Oh well at least you kept this one," Lady Merille said. "What a beauty."

"Oh they're more than beautiful," Sirius smirked. "Introduce yourself, dragon."

"Greetings Lord and Lady Merille and Darry," they began. "My name is Astrath, guard, servant, and pet of the Krawley household."

The four guests' jaws hit the floor. "It speaks!" Lord Merille shouted. "How did you teach it to speak?!"

"Does it truly understand what we're saying?" Lord Darry questioned.

"Do you take this House as a joke?" Franz snapped. "Of course it does! Dragon! Tell them about yourself!"

"My name is Astrath, as I previously said. I was born here 33 years ago to my mother Rela and my father Kolkaria. I am a descendant of royal dragons, hence my ability to speak. If you wish to know something, I will answer your questions as best as I can."

The three at the table gushed about how incredible it was to see a talking dragon in person. Offers for a trade were made and immediately denied. Lady Merille continued to look the dragon over.

"Such a wonderful voice as well! So handsome. It's a good thing dragons live for so long, you won't lose this beauty any time soon. What a treasure to pass down in the family. He is wonderful!"

Everyone nodded in agreement.

"They..." Astrath muttered.

Lord Sirius threw the beast a glare of death. Lady Merille piped up. "I beg your pardon?"

"They," the dragon repeated. "Not he."

No one quite knew how to respond. They? What did that even mean? And had this beast really just spoken back to someone of higher standing? Sirius gripped the fork in his hand, visibly bending from his rage. His guests had been insulted! Lord Franz spoke up, silencing them all.

"Did you really just disrespect your betters?!" he snapped as he rose from his seat. Lady Merille backed away and returned to her seat. "Did you really speak when not asked to? And you insulted our fine guests?!" He grabbed the dragon's chin roughly. "You will be called whatever we want to call you! He, she, it, whatever we like! You exist because of us! You continue to live because of us! You will give us your full respect at all times! Do you understand?!"

Franz let go and waited for his reply. "Yes, my Lord," Astrath said defeatedly. "I apologize for my insolence. It will not happen again."

"For your sake, I hope not," he whispered to Astrath. "Give me an excuse, I beg of you."

Astrath grew still at the threat and stood straighter, looking ahead blankly as they tried to quell the burning rage inside them.

"My apologies," Lord Sirius quietly spoke. "Sometimes the property forgets its place. He is still a beast after all and is still learning where he stands in life."

The dragon closed their eyes and quietly took a breath. How insulting and insufferable these humans were.

The rest of the morning moved on, discussions were had, deals were made, food was eaten. The final treats were brought out, a lovely assortment of cakes and sweets, along with some tea. A maid provided for each person, delicately placing the sweets down and pouring tea. Marianne was set to serve Lord Franz. She flashed Astrath a small smile before pouring the tea. The dragon smiled back and quickly returned to a blank stoic countenance, but not fast enough. The wicked Lord smiled at the exchange, a devious idea forming in his head. As Marianne went to pour, Franz caught the woman's leg with his own and tripped her. She yelped as the teapot went flying, spilling all over the table and ruining the sweets. Some splashed on Lady Darry down the way and she gasped and sputtered as if someone had just thrown a dead dog into her lap. A pool of tea spilled into Franz's lap and stained his trousers. Astrath paled. This was going to end horribly.

"Oh Saradomin, my Lord I am so sorry, I did not mean--!"

Franz slapped the woman across the face. It split her lip open, blood beginning to drip on her skirt as she bowed her head. "Cease your quibbling you pathetic maid! How dare--!"

Astrath growled and sprinted over to the table in the blink of an eye, startling the guests and making the ladies scream. They grabbed Marianne and pulled her away from the situation with a snarl, standing defensively between her and Franz. The young man smiled devilishly.

"Astrath, no! I'm fine!" Marianne cried. Her friend was about to be in a lot of trouble.

Lord Sirius snapped. "Astrath what are you doing?!"

"You do not hurt her!" the dragon snarled.

"It snarled at me!" Lord Franz shouted. "The feral beast! You have done enough damage today. Now you will do no more!"

Franz activated the mechanism attached to his belt, the runes inside setting off the spell and activating Astrath's collar. The dragon whined and yipped as needles dug into the cracks between their scales and injected them with sedative. Immediately, their hold on the maid was lost and the dragon staggered back. Their body felt heavy, they couldn't keep their eyes open, everything was growing blurry and numb. They soon hit the floor, knocked out cold.

____________________________________

A week had passed now. A week since Astrath once again let their emotions show and get the better of them. If there was one emotion they struggled to hide it was their anger. It was beyond frustrating. That was one of the few lessons they remembered from their parents; never show your feelings lest they be used against you. Astrath tried their best to hide their emotions, to not give Franz or anyone anything to use against them, but rage always managed to break through eventually. Astrath sighed and curled on their dirty nest. At least their punishment had only been no time in the sun for a week and two days without food. That was better than usual.

It was late that day, the sun nearly completely gone, when Astrath heard footsteps coming their way. They thought perhaps it was Franz coming to torment them again. The man had come every day since the dining room fiasco to take out his frustrations on the dragon. His father hadn't appreciated the scene Franz helped cause, so Franz beat the poor beast or stole its food whenever he could. Astrath was very surprised to see it wasn't Franz who came to visit, but their friend Marianne.

The dragon ran to the gate of their cage and grabbed her hand. "Mari! I hadn't seen you all week. I was getting nervous."

"I'm fine. Thank you for worrying. I just came to tell you goodbye."

Astrath growled confusedly. "What do you mean?"

"I've been fired. The incident last week didn't settle well with either Lord Krawley and so I've been laid off. I just finished packing my things and I'm going to return to the Servants' Guild in hopes of getting a new job."

Astrath was heartbroken. They didn't know how they would handle being without their only friend. Mari had been there for them for nearly seven years. "I made you lose your job, didn't I? It's my fault."

"No, I promise it isn't your fault," she said. "We both know whose fault it is. At least now I won't have to deal with him ever again."

The dragon sighed in relief. "That does bring me comfort. You deserve so much better and should never be hurt again."

"The same could be said for you. Which is why I give you this parting gift." Marianne handed three keys through the gaps in the cage bars. Astrath looked at them in confusion. "I'm giving you your freedom, but you must be careful taking it. If you do this wrong, I don't know what they'll do to you." She held up two silver keys. "These open the gates to the cages and the lock on the guard shack. There's clothing, food, and your swords at the ready. You may need the armor too." She held up a gold key. "This unlocks your collar, it unlocks all of them. Use this one last. The moment you unlock your collar an alarm will sound."

Astrath was in shock. "How did you get these?"

"I've worked here long enough to know where they're stored when not in use. I was just sneaky about getting them. You don't deserve to live like this, none of these creatures do. Free yourself so we can be friends on the other side. I only ask you wait an hour so I can be far away from this place and not be under suspicion."

"Mari..." They hugged the maid as best they could through the bars. "Thank you. I'll see you on the side of freedom soon."

"Good luck. Now I have to go before anyone sees me here. See you soon."

Marianne quietly ran off into the darkness and out of sight, leaving the dragon to think of a plan.

Astrath stared down at the keys in their hand. Would their freedom really come so easily tonight? Was this it, after 33 long years of being harassed and abused? No more being a servant. No more being a jailer for their own kind. No more wasting away in a cage for the rich to gawk at. What was life even like beyond the confines of this prison? They couldn't begin to imagine it.

An hour passed, or perhaps more as Astrath grew lost in their daydreaming, and the dragon had a plan. They carefully looked around for any guards and opened the gate. They quietly slithered out and slunk over to the guard shack. Inside was indeed everything Marianne had said there would be. There was a large sack full of clothing, food, and a small pouch full of some sort of gold discs. Astrath had seen those before only a few times. It was money! They had never been allowed to touch it. They stared at the shimmering gold coins wondrously.

The dragon changed into the armor save for those atrocious shoes, threw their swords on, and tied the pack on. Now was the hard part. The perimeter of the mansion and its massive yards were unique. If any creature with a collar that wasn't deactivated tried to pass through the borders, it activated and knocked the creature out immediately. Despite having lived here for all their life, Astrath still didn't know where the borders actually began. The best plan would be to take it off as close to the border as possible and hop over so they had a head start from the alarm, but one wrong step meant this escapade was over. They'd have to take it off now.

Astrath slipped the gold key awkwardly into the collar hole at the back of their neck and twisted. The collar fell of with a thunk and a hiss. The dragon brought a shaky hand to their neck and gave it a rub. The collar was gone. It was really gone. They felt so light, so free. The dragon smiled and laughed for a moment and sped off for the perimeter wall.

Lights quickly began to turn on in the mansion. That was faster than expected. The other creatures of the collection began to awaken and crawl to the edge of their cages and look around. Some squawked in alarm at the sight of Astrath running outside of the cages. The dragon felt bad they couldn't release the rest of the creatures trapped here, but the zoo was far too large for one dragon to free on their own. One day they would come back and free them all.

They reached the final set of pens, right before the perimeter wall. Beautiful shrubbery and vines decorated with flowers of the colors of House Krawley stood as a barrier to the outside world. Behind that was a thick stone wall, completely impenetrable and spiked at the top. Astrath hissed. It would be so easy to just fly over and be free, but that wasn't going to happen with their wings still bound. The bindings weren't something they could take off themselves either. Careful climbing it was.

As Astrath gripped the vines crawling up the wall to begin climbing, a quiet coo caught their attention. A young male drakeling was pressed against the gate of its cage, watching the black dragon curiously. He stood out sharply against the night, his fiery red and orange scales lighting up the darkness. The dragon let go of the vines. "You're that fire drake Franz found, aren't you?" The baby fire drake was Lord Franz's first catch on his own. Astrath remembered hearing about the adventure for weeks, how Franz had tracked and killed two fire drakes and stole the newly hatched baby for his collection. If Astrath remembered correctly, the male's head was currently stuffed and mounted over the fireplace in the parlor. It made the dragon sick thinking about another poor dragon being forced to grow from a baby here in this horrid environment. The drakeling had only been here for around three years and its growth was already stunted from improper care.

Guards were on their way now. Astrath could hear them searching the premises. They needed to leave this moment. But they couldn't leave the little one behind. Out of all the creatures that called this prison home, this one wouldn't likely live well if at all. They unlocked the gate and undid the collar and gave the little drake a pat. The top of its head barely reached Astrath's chest, and with its wingarms bound the creature looked even smaller.

"Alright little one. Grab on and let's get out of here."

The drakeling reached for their shoulders and hung off their back as Astrath began to climb again. The two reached the top without being spotted. The guard spikes at the top were terrifyingly sharp. They could cut through a dragon's hide with no problem. Astrath wouldn't be able to hop over with the extra weight. They shrugged the drakeling up higher until the beast was nearly sitting on their head.

"Hop over, little one. Don't worry about the fall, you'll be fine. I'll be right there after."

The drakeling nervously chirped and wiggled before launching off the dragon and landing in the grass below with a thump. The force pushed Astrath back down the wall a ways, so they continued to climb back up.

"Over here!"

Something whizzed through the air and shot Astrath in the foot. The jolt caused them to lose their footing and they slid farther down with a yelp. The dragon hissed and shook out whatever was in their foot. A dart. Likely filled with sedative. That wasn't good. It was only one small one though and it hadn't been in their foot long. Hopefully they wouldn't pass out, or at least not immediately.

More guards ran over and aimed. Astrath leapt down as they fired, darts harmlessly bouncing off the shrubs and walls. The lot of them quickly began to reload, and for a moment Astrath froze. A part of their mind told them to stand down and surrender so they wouldn't get hurt. Don't disobey the people that own you. But they quickly shook that voice away. The collar was gone, they were owned by no one and there was nothing anyone could do now.

They couldn't hold the dragon back any longer.

Astrath screeched and opened their mouth wide. Fire illuminated the darkness, an infernal sea spewing forth from the dragon's maw and burning the guards alive. They all screamed and panicked, running off to roll in the dirt or find water to douse themselves in. The closest ones dropped dead quickly. Astrath staggered back in shock. They had never done that before, nor killed anyone before. The sight of the fire melting the black metal into the guards' skin, the smell of roasting flesh, the sound of dying screams, it was horrible.

But also so satisfying.

Lost in the shock of what just happened, the dragon hadn't noticed another person stride forward, only this wasn't just another guard. A bolt, not a lousy dart, shot the dragon in the shoulder. It cracked the metal pauldron and bounced away. Astrath had clarity enough to mentally thank Marianne for her suggestion to put on the armor. Through the flames stomped Lord Franz, crossbow at the ready.

"Well if it isn't Astrath. My family gives you life, raises you, feeds you, teaches you, trains you, gives you a place to stay, is the reason for your pathetic existence! And this is how you thank us? How disrespectful you are, lizard!"

He fired again, bolt bouncing harmlessly off the wall as Astrath dodged. Their head was back in the game now. They unsheathed the two crystal swords given to them for guard duty and leveled them at the Lord. "Your family kidnapped mine, abused us, stole my parents from me, starved, beat, and tormented me, and left me to fend for myself in a stinking cage as a hatchling at the age of five! You dare call me disrespectful!"

"Using the words my family taught you against me? I'll cut out your tongue before I throw you back into that cage for good!"

Franz fired once more, Astrath ducked and slid closer. Franz bashed the end of his crossbow into the dragon's face and dropped it for a better weapon given the situation. He yanked his longsword free and swiped at the dazed dragon. Astrath gracefully slid out of the way and swiped with one of their swords. It connected, leaving a shallow but painful graze in Franz's side. He hissed and swiped at the dragon again. His sword connected with theirs with a clang, and Astrath connected again with the other blade in their hand, leaving a deeper slash along his stomach. Franz yelled and doubled over. He wasn't used to his property fighting back.

Astrath aimed for the man's head, hoping to end it all. Franz ducked and barreled into the dragon. He slammed his boot on the beast's foot, wounded and bleeding from the dart. The dragon cried out and Franz stabbed them in the side. Astrath howled and Franz drew closer. He brought his face up to theirs, wicked smile glittering in the spreading firelight. "Nothing a few stitches won't fix. You'll still be just as nice as I need for my collection."

The dragon snarled. They were not going back to their damned cage! Astrath's mouth began to glow red and Franz realized too late how badly he had just messed up. He reached for the control at his belt and pressed it instinctively to trigger a collar that wasn't there. Astrath let loose dragonfire with a ferocious roar, burning the man across the face. He howled and screamed and cried as he fell to the ground, gripping his face as he rolled in the dirt.

Someone shouted in the distance. It sounded like Sirius. Astrath quickly threw the swords back into their sheaths and scaled the wall, jumping down to the worried waiting drakeling on the other side. The drakeling squawked at his new friend's wounds and at the sound of guards coming around the corner from the entrance of the mansion. Astrath picked the creature back up and ran as fast as they could, not looking back to watch their fire spread to the mansion and start to set it ablaze.

Soon the sleeping dart began to take effect. The two had run north as far and as fast as they could before that. Astrath hadn't the faintest clue where they were when they fell unconscious, but they could hear water and smell a great deal of salt before they descended underground. They found a series of tunnels that led underground, and in those tunnels another small crevice that no human with their lack of night vision could ever hope to see. Astrath and the drakeling curled together in the tiny hole behind the wall and fell asleep, the sounds of the guards' shouts and footsteps long gone.

________________________________

The morning came, not that anyone could see, and Astrath opened their groggy heavy eyes. What a dream they had. Escaping their cage, burning their owner, running free with... a... drakeling...

There was a bright red drakeling in their arms, sound asleep. There was rock all around them, not the metal bars of cages. Two stolen crystal swords were strapped to their pack, painfully poking into the sack Marianne had packed for them. None of it was a dream.

"Mari-ow!"

Astrath jumped up at the remembrance of their friend and how they were supposed to meet up once the dragon escaped, and their wounds reminded them that wasn't a good idea. The drakeling woke at the noise and nuzzled the dragon worriedly. Astrath settled back down and pat the small dragon on the head.

"Looks like we made it. No one came to catch us."

The drakeling chirped happily.

Astrath smiled. "You're a cute little one. I never caught your name while we were escaping. Too caught in the moment I suppose. My name is Astrath. What is yours?"

The little dragon squawked excitedly.

"Rojaw. That means the fangs of fire. A wonderful name. It's nice to formally meet you, Rojaw."

The two carefully crawled out of the crevice and pondered what to do. Astrath stripped the Krawley adorned armor and slipped on the simple black attire Marianne had packed for them. They then stripped the cloth from the armor to create a bandage and wrapped their wounds. They had never been hurt like this before and as such didn't really understand how to make effective bandages. But the shoddily torn cloth scraps definitely felt good on their wound so they must have done something right. The lovely maid had also packed food, which they split with Rojaw. Although neither of them had any inkling of where to go, they felt ready to continue their journey of getting as far away from House Krawley as possible. Astrath felt awful they were going to leave their friend behind and make her wonder and worry, but they had to get away from Ardougne for a while. They had to keep moving and hoped she would understand. But before the two of them got moving, there was one important thing to take care of.

Astrath laid Rojaw down and carefully held out his wingarms. The dragon bit down on the metal bindings holding his wings shut and shattered them with a crunch. With both bonds broken, the drakeling was free. Rojaw screeched happily and jumped around the cavern in glee, spreading the wing webbing wide. The drakeling's pure joy was making Astrath smile. "Can you do mine now?" the dragon asked. "I can't reach them."

Rojaw carefully bit down on the metal binding and weights holding Astrath's wings shut. The broken pieces fell with a clatter and a weight was lifted from them. Astrath couldn't help but gasp in awe at how much lighter they felt. They carefully stretched their wings, timidly at first. Realizing nothing could hold them back any longer, they threw their wings open. Rojaw sat in amazement and Astrath couldn't help but cry and smile. They flapped and stretched their wings, something they had never been able to do before, and admired how beautiful they were. Speckles of a brighter color shimmered underneath when the light hit just right, creating the effect of stars against the night sky. They were beautiful.

Astrath sighed contently and folded their wings comfortably. They scratched Rojaw under the chin before packing everything and slinging it in place. "We're still too close to the mansion for my taste. We should keep moving until things calm down. Perhaps there is a place out there that can help us stay safe in this world so we never have to go through this again. And perhaps there is a way to free everyone else as well. We should find those things, don't you agree?"

Rojaw chirped and bounced excitedly.

The two carefully left the caverns, wary of any suspicious characters that would drag them back to House Krawley. But no one was around, not a single soul. Astrath breathed a sigh of relief and the two continued north. They could finally live in this world as free beings, and soon they would make sure all creatures could feel that same freedom too.

#runescape #rs3 #my writes #oc tag

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splat-dragon · 4 years

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I find myself somewhere I never thought I'd be ~Nothing I've Ever Known, Bryan Adams

Her head was killing her, and she felt like she was going to be sick from the pain.

And, as her head cleared, she became painfully aware that she hadn’t the faintest clue of where she was. It was far, far too hot to be her bedroom, where she could only just remember being last—her mind was swimming, memories of the last few days drifting passed in snatches, only the barest details clear, and she strained, trying to remember what she’d done last. She’d been in bed, she was sure of it, and even if the power had gone out there was no way it would be this hot, this dry, she’d been… reading? Yes, she was almost sure of it, she could feel the paper ghosting against her fingers, there and gone, though what book it had been she couldn’t say.

Though she was Texas born, the heat that raged around her was nothing she’d felt before. Her back burned, and she panted to try and catch her breath, the air painfully dry, her mouth the same, and a fleeting, somewhat hysterical thought passed, that a scorpion could crawl into her mouth and make a home there and be happy, and if she wasn't careful a cactus’s seeds would get on her tongue and take root and her frequent joke about her mouth being ‘dry as the sahara’ wouldn’t be such a joke anymore.

‘This is a dream.’

She thought, and surely it had to be. One didn’t fall asleep reading on their soft bed in their air-conditioned room and wake up baking in the sun.

But she’d never had such a real dream before, though she had an imagination many would describe, politely, as ‘creative’, less politely ‘over-active’. Never had any of her many dreams been half so real as this.

Ravens called overhead, and crows responded. Horses screamed not far away, hooves thundering hard and fast on the ground, something creaking after them—wagon wheels, maybe? was the only thing that made sense, that came to mind, even with her head still whirling, spinning and dancing, though she was slowly coming down to earth. Why the hell would there be horses and wagons in her bedroom though?

Then again, her bedroom didn’t have sand either. There was red-hot sand against her stomach and, oh hell, was she naked? It burned against her skin, felt like thousands of tiny little coals, and either it had burned through her pajama-shirt or she wasn’t wearing one altogether.

Finally, she opened her eyes (“Shiiiit,” and closed them again, the light burning them harshly, before opening them again, slowly and more cautiously), and knew it was definitely no dream.

Brittle, dry grass stretched out before her for miles, still and unmoving with no breeze to stir it, speckled here and there with rocks, cacti, dead and dying trees reaching out like a dying man grabbing desperately for salvation. Massive brown blurs that she could only think were bison from their shape and size and those poke-y things that she thought were horns sizzled off in the distance, and there was some strange sort of deer grazing only a few yards from her, short and stocky, one of them with odd, thorn-like antlers. Pronghorns, she thought, vaguely hysterical, though she couldn’t be sure considering she’d only ever seen them in video games and on Reddit a few times, and why she found that important she didn’t know.

Well, she supposed, if you go to bed and then wake up sprawled out and, apparently, undressed or, at the least, half undressed, in the desert, you focus on strange things.

Dry grass crunched nearby in a rhythmic pattern, as though someone were walking on it, and she blinked slowly, groaning at the feeling of sand scraping against her eyes. Hell, she hadn’t realized it was possible for her eyes to feel that dry, but apparently so, as they did. She licked her lips, and it felt weird, but considering how dry her everything felt it was expected, she supposed, considering that she was fairly certain she tasted blood from how the flesh of her tongue had cracked. Just turning her head hurt, pulse pounding in her skull, and tilting it back to look up was even worse, vertigo sending her whirling in a rush of twirls and spins, and she closed her eyes for a long moment before opening them at a rasping chuckle.

A man towered over her, ruffled and filthy. His hair gleamed with grease, matted and wavy in the way that hair only gets when it hasn’t been washed in ages, a worn face—one that belonged on a man much older than he looked to be—pockmarked and scarred, his shirt torn and yellowed with old sweat, and he stank to top it all off, like days worth of body odor.

At the moment, though, he was the most beautiful person she’d ever seen.

“S’cuse me, mister, can… can you tell me where I am?” She attempted to stand, limbs stiff and joints popping, everything hurting, but she didn’t even get her arms straightened out before they buckled and she went crashing to the ground, a strangled grunt forced from her throat from the impact.

A nasty grin twisted the man’s face, baring what few teeth he had, rotted and yellowed, stained with nicotine and who-knows-what-else. “Well, what’ve we got here?” he slurred in a voice long ruined by cigarettes, and before she could react his hand shot out and grabbed her, fisting her hair and lifting her up by it, tearing a yelp of pain from her throat. It was a strange sound too, high-pitched and warped, but she didn’t have the time or wherewithal to think on it as she tried to twist her head to look him in his watery brown eyes, bending her neck too far but it didn’t hurt, came easily, gagging as she got a noseful of nicotine and alcohol.

“Ain’t you scary lookin’?” he reached up with his free hand to scratch at his scraggly beard (she wouldn’t be surprised to see lice or fleas in it), and she wondered if he was blind or simply as dumb as he looked. Her, scary? Sure. Barely over five feet tall, she didn’t think she’d ever been called anything close to scary. “Got you some sharp teeth, I reckon.”

Yep. Definitely dumb. Only sharp teeth she had were her canines, and they didn’t really count considering she’d chipped one ages ago and the dentist had filed it blunt. “Fuckin’ crazy asshole, lemme go!” he reached for her face, and she dug in her feet, tried to pull away—she didn’t want those filthy, dirt covered, nicotine stained hands anywhere near her face, much less on her mouth —but the back of his hand struck her temple and she whimpered, going limp in his hold.

Her head throbbed, somehow, even worse than before, an ache settling behind her eyes as her stomach churned of the pain. She couldn’t help but to open her mouth when he pressed his thumb against her lips, prying it open, and he hummed, running a foul-tasting finger along her teeth, must have been happy with what he found as he bared his teeth in that nasty grin of his, and she could only barely manage to ask “What… what do you want with me?”

Surely, nothing good.

He didn’t respond, though, and she wondered if, in her dazed state, she had merely thought it, and instead adjusted his grip on her hair and began to pull, agonizing pain shooting down her spine. She whined, tried to dig in her feet, must have angered him or he must have gotten annoyed with her struggles, as he twisted, slamming his hand into her temple again, and she faded into blissful unconsciousness.

#silent savior #ginny #Red Dead Redemption #red dead redemption quotes #red dead redemption 2 epilogue #red dead redemption 2 spoilers #time travel #rdr2 #rdr #i can't quite remember just what guided me this way

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elfiesink · 5 years

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Test Chapter: Teach Them Fear

Reader’s had a hard life but doesn’t exactly strike an imposing figure. Ashe is going to teach them how to put the fear of god into a man.

A Test chapter, tell me what you think. If you like it it’ll go up on ao3 and I’ll continue it.

You spent a lot of time with mud caked somewhere on you. In your hair. Under your nails. Soaking into your skin. As much as you wanted to be mud-free at all times it wasn’t practical. The world was a dirty, filthy place and that often left you stuck coated with earth and grease. It sucked. It sucked but you couldn’t change it so you didn’t bother. You didn’t have the time or energy to dedicate to getting upset over another shitty thing about this world that you couldn’t fix. You just had to keep going. Had to move forward.

The rain made this easier though. The air was clogged with fog so thick you could barely see the filth covering you let alone another human being. Which meant they also couldn’t see you. Couldn’t see you crouching near a chain link fence with a pair of wirecutters. Couldn’t see you snapping open a hole just big enough for you to crawl through. You got more mud smeared into your clothes but you didn’t care at this point. What was more dirt. What was more sin. You were what you were and there was no amount of soap and water capable of changing that.

And that was fine. It really was.

You had been watching this place for a while. A warehouse owned by a group of people even worse than you were. Rotten creatures. There were none of them outside but that was little surprise. Heaven forbid they get tough enough to stand a little sky water. It might make their beards soggy or worse, get into their socks. You could really feel for them. You would leave a blanket for them if you had one. But you wouldn’t have shit unless you could get out of here alive.

The warehouse seemed quiet. You pressed your ear against the cold metal door and heard nothing. Looked under the door and could see no shifting of shadows in the dim light. You jiggled the handle and when it didn’t open you got to work with your locksmithing tools. Stolen, like everything else. But it was a real teach a man to fish situation. You could’ve sold them and bought yourself a couple of sandwiches but wasn’t it a far better idea to pay for the ability to open a dozen other scores. How many shady motel rooms had you managed to settle in because you’d picked locks just like this one? You were in with a little patience and a twist of your wrist.

It was quiet. There hadn’t been many guards in all the nights you’d spent watching this place, but there was literally no one here tonight. It was dead silent. A horrible decision for a storage building but hey, you didn’t know anything about running a business. You only knew about security measures to get around them. And even then your best bets were places like this. Too cheap and unappealing for anyone but you to rob. Items were arranged haphazardly on shitty rusted shelves. Hell. Items were propping up the shitty rusted shelves. Wet and molded boxes bulging at the sides from the stress of holding it all up. The lights were dim when they worked, the bulbs covered in dead insects and grease. Most of them didn’t work. Most of them were dark, most of them were busted. They didn’t seem to care about fixing broken lightbulbs. Or fixing the leaking hole in the roof. Or fixing the cracks in the concrete floor, warning signs of a failing foundation. Or fixing anything at all.

Worked for you. Left them wide open for you to take whatever it was that you wanted. You headed for the cleanest shelves first. Boxes of computer parts and other electronics. Most of it too heavy to be worth your while but a few boxes of high-end phones made their way into your bag. You could sell those at a couple of pawn-shops. Maybe even a game store if it was late enough at night and the manager didn’t care. There were omnic parts and you could get a good dollar if you could get those to the right person but they were huge and your only vehicle was you. A shame. A real shame. Transportation was going to have to be your next buy. Or steal. If you could get something that wasn’t chipped or locked down. Maybe you would take a look in the parking lot when you were done. If they didn’t care for their goods maybe they wouldn’t care for their cares either. You’d never hotwired before but, there was a first time for everything.

You’d managed to scavenge quite a few useful things from the shelves. A gun and ammo. Talk about one hell of a score. Weapons were expensive and most people kept them under watch. It was careless to leave them in the middle of a shelf like they were just as important as some old engine parts. Not that it was the best gun, and not that you knew it worked for sure. But you could get it fixed if it didn’t. It was having it that was important. Holding it in your hand made you feel safer than you’d felt in weeks. You could get away with a whole lot more now. A car part could buy you a sandwich. A gun could get you the car.

It took you too long to hear the sounds of fighting. Thuds, crashing, and a loud echoing gunshot. You panicked and tried to load the gun while you scrambled for the exit. You were careless and someone must have heard-

There was a rifle barrel against the side of your face. It was not cold. They were always described as cold, weren’t they? Cold, hard metal. But that was assuming they hadn’t just been fired. Like the gun had just been sitting around waiting just for you. This barrel was warm. So you wouldn’t be the first person they shot tonight. And definitely not the first person they’ve shot, ever. Even if you finished loading the gun and tried to turn it on them you would be way too slow. All you could do is slowly turn to stare at the woman pointing the gun at you. You weren’t expecting the snow white hair, pristine and perfectly styled. Or the bright, piercing red eyes. You were expecting the smug smile though. She did get the drop on you after all. Not that it was very hard. You weren’t paying attention. You weren’t listening. You got ahead of yourself and let yourself get way too into picking stuff up like you were at the fucking grocery store. This is what happened when you fucked up. There were consequences and this time, the consequences were very attractive. Just your luck.

“You alone?”

“Yes.”

“How’d ya get in?”

“Lockpicks.”

“You’re quiet.”

You were? Maybe. But not quiet enough. She noticed you, and she noticed you while she was busy shooting up whoever just died. It was frustrating and disappointing but you didn’t have time to dwell on any of that. The woman slowly lowered her rifle and reached out to grip your jaw, lifting your head up.

“Want to stop bein’ alone?”

“What.”

She let go and stepped back, motioning to the people filing in behind her. Some human, some omnic, all wearing the same leather vest. So they were, organized. Very organized. But that meant they knew what they were doing. Why would they want some dirt covered fuck off the street, so to speak. All she knew about you was that you were in desperate need of a bath and that you couldn’t load a gun very quickly. But she just smiled, and leaned towards you, and prodded you in the chest with her rifle.

“You look like you could use a family. And what do you know, we have space we’re lookin’ to fill. The guys here were jokes but if you could prey on them well. What could you do with a little help?” She lowered the rifle and offered her hand.

And it was weird. It was suspicious. You were literally no one with nothing. But you were, no one. With nothing. And you were so, so fucking tired. You were tired of being covered in mud, tired of sleeping in the dirt, tired of watching your shoulder. How much worse could your life get? How could this possibly go wrong in any way that mattered. Yeah, maybe you got shot. But if maybe you’d sleep in a bed first. Maybe you would get arrested. What a surprise. What a shock. You, getting arrested. Who would have guessed. When you were at rock bottom even the sharp glass-covered boulder looked like it was a step up. You had nothing to lose. So you shook her hand.

“Good. Name’s Ashe. Welcome to the Deadlock Gang.”

“Wait like. The Deadlock Gang?” The ones that got so big it forced Overwatch to come after them and that still didn’t help? They got smacked on the wrist at worse and that definitely wasn’t because Overwatch didn’t try to fuck them up. Ashe smiled, tossed an arm over your shoulder, and guided you out of the warehouse with a laugh.

“Yeah. The Deadlock Gang. Our, family.”

Family huh? That was an interesting way to put it. You didn’t know if you would feel the same way about a group of strangers who technically recruited you at gunpoint, but at least she seemed friendly. They all did, laughing as they piled onto a truck, setting you in the middle of the group, drinks tossed around in between wads of cash. You smiled hesitantly. You could give family a try.

#Ashe x Reader #gender neutral reader #test chapter

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kristopherwritesstuff · 5 years

Text

Chapter 1

Touch starved wasn’t a term Jamison was accustomed to. In the Outback, touch was reserved for scrapping, if it came down to it, or quick, dirty rutting against thighs it spit slicked hands.

Hygiene wasn’t common, but neither were the diseases typically present throughout the rest of the world, transmitted through dirty holes uncleaned. They knew better.

His vocabulary wasn’t lacking, either, not with all the travelling he’d done once he was out of the Outback and off the Australian coast, but “touch starved” was simply something that had never been brought up to him before, or explained if it had. Touch wasn’t something he actively sought, either, wasn’t something he knew he wanted until he agreed to Overwatch, Mako an automatic extension to the agreement and the only one who actively had looked out for him, even after the payments had ended and he had saved enough to do what he wanted.

Even then, touch wasn’t something they had actively participated in, other than Mako holding him down by the back of his neck with a firm hand, large fingers stroking over his thighs and hole and coaxing him into calm submission, soothing his jittery anxious energy.

There was nothing soft about it, though. Nothing caring, although Jamison knew Mako cared. Nothing just gentle and light, just a firm roughness that was used to get the Junker to shut up and sit still instead of getting caught up in his own head, going crazy again, another bomb spree meant to kill himself and everyone around him.

Touch wasn’t something he was aware he wanted, needed, until he met Jesse McCree; thick dark hair and a thicker body, relaxed and charming and handsome in a way Jamison hadn’t really seen in far too long, at least in a way that interested him. He didn’t hide his interest well, either; all wide golden eyes sober and calm without the anxiety of the Outback to have them flickering nervously (although they still did, when Mako wasn’t around, on edge and giggles threatening to bubble up his throat), arms crossed around his hollow stomach and deadly still, silent as he watched. Quiet as a damn mouse.

Too big for a mouse, though, and too dirty, too twitchy, too nervous, too dangerous for one. That’s what people think of rats, after all. Dirty and twitching and dangerous. They thought of Jamison the same; that’s how he got his name, earned it: just a rat in the junk, dirty and twitching and dangerous, and a part of him, niggling the back of his brain, scratching deep in his gut, told him that’s what everyone else thought, too, at the Watchpoint. Told him they hated him, mistrusted him, didn’t want him, would just stab him in the back and leave him to rot.

It was different with McCree, though. The cowboy, man, despite his low, whiskey rough voice and overbearing demeanour, was surprisingly warm and gentle, easy laughs on his lips and a wink in his eyes for practically everyone. He made everyone feel welcome, even Jamison and his bodyguard, and even though everyone had a soft smile and a kind word for the young, lanky man, it only really felt genuine from Jesse. He'd ruffle the dirty blonde mess on Jamison's head, would swing his arm around the man's shoulders and nudge him close under the watchful eye of the huge bodyguard usually nearby, and always had a kind word and light greeting whenever he spotted Jamison around the base, and it never failed to have the man softening up, relaxing, yearning for their interactions more and more.

He didn't confess this, never said anything, but that didn't stop Mako bringing it up two months into their joining of Overwatch, voice low and chest deep as he watches his boss fuss and fidget in front of the mirror, scrubbing at the ash and soot imbedded under his eyelashes like makeup.

"...Going to see the cowboy?"

"Roadie--"

"Gonna tell him?"

He's being glared at in the mirror, just the softest dusting of pink on Jamison's cheeks, and Mako just gives a small shrug. He could read him better than anyone, sometimes better than Jamison himself, but even the crush was clear, probably even to Jesse himself. Jamison just had trouble keeping himself to himself, a good counter to the stoic man he had employed and befriended.

Other than the glare, there's no answer, and Jamison returns to the mirror, fussing and huffing and scowling before giving up five minutes later.

He'd showered, tried to clean up a little, but the soot was still in awkward places, like under his eyes and in the curves of his earlobe and under his nails, but the rest was fairly clean, hair now a soft, fluffy mess on his head, light and pretty without ash and dirt and grease shaping it messily into flaming spikes. He almost looks good, especially with a clean pair of shorts on, loose tank top a few sizes too big with his unhealthy lank, and he straightens himself up a little, brows furrowed as he fidgets. Even his arm and leg have been cleaned.

"...You look fine."

Ignored again, other than a quick glance in the mirror, eyes thankful before Jamison turns and hobbles out the room with quick ease, good practise after years of using the peg leg.

Jesse's at the target range, and Jamison can't help but wonder why. His aim is damn near perfect, if not completely so, in the field, let alone against the robot dummies lazily patrolling around. He hears Jamison approach but says nothing, doesn't move, just fires another shot as the blonde man watches from behind him, chewing up his lips and trigger finger twitching with each shot.

"...Are ya gonna join me, darlin'?" The smooth, low voice makes Jamison start, fingers jerking, a bomb being sent flying towards one of the dummies and exploding on impact, taking out half of its head.

"Easy, 'rat. Didn't mean to startle ya." Jesse is turning, gun in its hollister at his hip, and easy grin on his face and a cigar, as usual, between his lips. "Haven't seen you all mornin'."

"Busy," is what falls from Jamison's mouth, body falling still under Jesse's gaze as the man eyes him up and down curiously.

"Nice to see yer takin' care of yourself. Didn't clean up 'specially for training, did ya?"

Jamison just nods after a slight pause if hesitation, biting his tongue for once, babble ceased in front of Jesse. If the pause is noticed, he doesn't say anything, just nods back, grinning, and takes a low drag from his cigar, exhaling the smoke almost lazily. It makes Jamison's nose twitch, watching the smoke swirl and twist in the still air, mouth dry at the now-familiar scent, and Jesse just hums at the red tips of his ears before he turns to empty his gun into the broken dummy currently whirling around in circles before collapsing from the sudden attack.

"Ya want a puff?"

"Nah, mate, Roadie says it's no good on my lungs, reckons I'll end up like him if I do." He gives a nervous laugh (at least Jesse thinks it's nervous, it's hard to tell with Jamison) and shrugs, almost a little helpless. "Don't like the taste, either. Smell ain't bad, but reckon that's all the smoke I've been sniffing over the years."

His voice isn't as high and crazed, like this. Still lilted up, but less excited, less shouting. Still a slight roll of the r's, but...it's calmer. Less Junkrat, more Jamison.

"Sure, sugar. Whatever ya want." Jesse shrugs, slumping down up against the wall, and Jamison slowly sinks down next to him, legs pulled to his chest, metal arm wrapped around them as he lets his gun rest next to him and flesh fingers idly rubbing the floor, careful not to touch Jesse. It felt good, being this close to him, being able to sit with the cowboy while he smoked and sent Jamison's head reeling with the smell of cigar smoke and unwashed leather and something earthy, and he simply rests his cheek against his knee, eyes flicking between his hand and Jesse's face. Jesse just keeps on puffing his smoke, head tipped back and hat dragged over his face a little, and it gives Jamison plenty of opportunity to stare and admire, stomach soft and warm in his gut. He's seen the old pictures of Jesse, back in his Blackwatch days, back even before that, and he could easily compare them to the man before him now, mentally noting the differences.

Broader. Chubbier, is what Jamison likes to think, because he likes the softness of Jesse's personality enough he wants it to match his physical appearance. Taller, obviously. A proper beard on his chin and jaw, although a little rough and patchy in some places, like he's had to shave without a mirror and it had grown back awkward. Robotic arm. Plain flannel shirt, a deep blue today. A low lazy voice that instantly sets people at ease.

Still handsome, though. Still attractive enough to claim anyone he wanted, cowboy get up or not. He just didn’t seem to want anyone.

"Can I help ya, sugar?"

Jamison flicks his eyes away quickly, trying to focus on how long he'd been staring, mouth dry. All he gets is blank, though, blank and Jesse's tanned skin and scruffy beard and chapped lips curled around the fat cigar nearly finished.

"Jamison?"

"I'm fine. It's fine. Don't worry, mate, just lost in thought, ain't no reason to worry." He can feel Jesse looking at him, curious and slightly amused, and he shuffles into himself, hiding away, trying to be smaller than he actually is. Trying to seem like a mouse instead of a rat.

"Sure, darlin'. Sure." There's a pause, a moment of relaxed quiet, Jamison's ears burning. "...Ain't gonna train? I could join ya."

There's a slight lilt to his tone that makes Jamison want to flush but he pushes it back, just shakes his head, stumbling to his feet. "Nah. Should probably go see what's cooking."

"Alright, whatever you want. I'll see ya later, yeah?"

Jamison fumbles, tongue thick in his mouth, hand fumbling to grab his gun.

"Yeah. Yeah, sure, mate."

He's scampering away before Jesse can say anything else, but he can feel his eyes on his back, burning into him like he'd just pressed his cigar there.

Jamison is so fucked.

#junkrat #mccree #jamison fawkes #jesse mccree #overwatch #highboom #junkrat/mccree #chapter 1 lads!!#chapter two being worked on currently #exams are coming up #so it might be slow #sorry #hope you enjoy

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gwiiyeoweo · 5 years

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Aulea sees the legendary terror for herself, but finds he's not so terrible after all.

Pairing: Ardyn & Regis, Ardyn & Noctis, Regis/Aulea, Aulea & Ardyn Rating: G

Aulea waked first.

It helped that she actually got a decent night of sleep, compared to Regis who rushed in before even the early rays of dawn could peak out. She quietly wrapped her robe around her, tying it in a lazy ribbon as she did her best to keep silent and sneak about the room afforded to her.

She had only started living in the Citadel last year, despite having been betrothed to Regis for the past two, and her room was bare for the most part. Besides the essentials, she kept a few succulents across her desk and a fern in the corner. Her attendants had fussed about livening up her room, even if it was only a temporary thing until she would be officially married to Regis, and the plants were proof of a hard-fought compromise she had drawn with them.

Regis shifted his arm across the empty expanse of the bed, fingers twitching for her missing warmth. But when he turned his head to farther bury his face into the pillow, Aulea decided he could use the extra hour of sleep and went off to toe on her slippers.

The maids would certainly be miffed if they caught her walking down the halls, dressed in nothing but her modest nightgown and her robe, with her hair strewn about everywhere. Aulea understood the need for appearances given certain circumstances, even if it meant with agreeing with the old stuffy council members, but a woman was allowed to walk in her own home in her pyjamas if she damn well wanted to. She might not yet be the official Consort, but everyone already revered her as such. All they needed was a paper with some fancy gold seal and it would be wham, bam, thank you before she could walk through all sixty-something floors in her underwear. Not that she would; she wasn’t as prim and proper as some of Regis’ matchmakers would like her to be, but she nonetheless kept a certain modesty and a standard of propriety she held herself up to.

At least no one caught sight of her, and she slipped between the lights and shadows easily enough as she made her way to Regis’ room.

Aulea entered without so much a knock, cracking the door open and poking her head in. She immediately zero’d in on Clarus, the man vigilantly sitting by the bedside and tapping away on his phone. “You look like hell.”

Clarus, with his grim dark circles, stilled his hand and lifted his head to glance at Aulea. “Been through worse,” he yawned, turning his face into the crook of his elbow.

Aulea rubbed her hands together, summoning some easy magic and igniting a soothing heat across her palms. Flexing her fingers, she ambled her way around the room and stood behind Clarus, lightly poking her fingertips around his neck and spine. “So,” she said, putting both hands on his shoulders and digging her fingers into his worn muscles. “This is Adagium.” Then a wrinkle of her nose. “Unfortunate name, by the way.”

Clarus sighed into her touch, leaning his back against the chair as he felt the heat radiate from her skilled hands. He twitched when she honed in on a knot hidden away between muscle and bone but kept his squirming to a minimum as she worked her literal magic. “That's what the books call him,” he answered, biting back a groan.

Aulea hummed in acknowledgment, but kept silent for the most part as she continued to work her way around the kinks and scars. She rubbed circles with her thumbs, using some elbow grease and pressing them deep into his flesh, just as her mother once taught her. “Go rest. I can watch,” she eventually said.

“Don't think Regis will appreciate me putting you on duty.”

“If he finds an issue, he can take it up with me.” She gave him a light shove on his arm. “Now go on, up and at ‘em.”

Whatever Clarus grumbled she didn't quite catch but it certainly had something to do with protocol and handbooks. He was more concerned with playing by the rules than leaving Aulea with a potential not-quite-a-daemon hazard sleeping in the bed, but they both knew she was a force in her own right. Worst case scenario, the room and the entire wing would be left in rubbles. It may have been a couple years, but Aulea had a few notches in her belt of besting Clarus and putting his rump to the dump — Cor moreso, back in his reckless days of fiery youth. (With Regis, though, there was no concrete record, considering their spars ended up in accidental makeout sessions or cuddle times, when either of them collided into each other with uncanny timing. “Get a room!” and exasperated groans notwithstanding.)

Clarus had no doubt Aulea could fend for herself should something go awry, but he was personally tasked by King Regis to keep an eye over Adagium. As Shield, he desired to carry on his duty; as friend, he only wished to help. Yet it didn’t help that Aulea was prodding incessantly at him, and knowing her stubbornness could only be matched by Regis’, well… He was but a man.

He knew this. Aulea knew this.

She wasn’t a tactician. She would never compare to the bright strategists circling their war talks, but Aulea could be as shrewd as the conmen who made their home in the dark shadows and Insomnian nights. She knew when sweet rewards held more power than bitter words and sharp whips. And she knew how tired Clarus must have been, considering how Regis had tumbled into her bed like a dead rock without so much a goodnight kiss.

Clarus had been given a losing battle from the get go, so the least he could do was bow out gracefully. So when he had finally relented, Aulea showed mercy and didn't even comment on the stumble in his step as he made for the door, to leave her alone by the stranger’s bedside.

Aulea walked along the walls and made sure each heavy curtain was drawn closed, to keep out the morning’s early rays. Whenever the man decided to wake, she was sure he’d appreciate not having the bright sunshine burning through his eyelids. It didn’t help that Regis’ windows happened to face east and took the full brunt of the sunrise, a lesson she learned herself on a morning she had decided to sneak in the night before.

She swiped a charging cable and one of the tablets hidden away in Regis’ drawers, taking them with her as she made her way back to the bedside. She plugged the charger in, settled herself into Clarus’ seat, and powered the tablet on. Tapping and swiping away at the screen, she typed in the four-numbered passcode and pulled up ChocoTube, a daughter platform for all things furry, fluffy, or cute.

Today’s featured playlist was cats.

“Good morning.”

Aulea didn’t even look up from the screen when she greeted the waking man.

She had her eyes glued on a litter of coeurl kittens, a mewling batch of little white furballs recently born in a conservation. According to the description, these particular species were close to extinction, having only a couple hundred left roaming in the wilds. Only when the video ended, with the camera fading to black and some white text with a link to the conservation’s website, did Aulea look up. She turned the tablet over, screen facing the man.

“Want to watch some cat videos?”

Adagium only stared, brows slightly knit together and lips trying to figure out how to make words.

In turn, Aulea silently studied him, watching for any sign or expression in that split moment it took for him to register her words. At a glance, he looked blank and clueless, like the trending video of that newborn chocobo staring at a single corn kernel and having no idea what it was. His dumbfounded look, she thought, would almost be as cute if it didn’t belong to a scraggly-bearded adult man. But she kept her focus on his eyes, the ways they flashed with emotion, and his mouth and jaw, where his lips parted or his teeth clenched. His eyes cycled through confusion and fear, caution and suspicion — and for a fraction of time, anger and contempt. She kept her magic at the edge, just in case .

But he made no motion, no twitch of his fingers, and the fleeting spite that glanced his face fell into confusion once more. Now, he only looked tired. Haggard. Like all he wanted was to go back to sleep and hibernate for the season, despite having two thousands years to do just that. If anything, it probably made his dark circles worse, now that Aulea actually made the effort to really look at him. His eyes were horribly sunken and dark, skin dry and lips chapped; none of them got him cleaned up after dragging him out of Angelgard, so he still had a fine layer of dirt and dust on him. If he felt as much as he looked, he was probably in want of a nice warm bubble bath.

Did Regis still have that jar of lavender bath salts under his sink?

“I… What?” Adagium rasped. Something didn’t agree with him, and he turned his face down to cough into his fist.

Aulea used her best disarming smile she saved especially for the old farts of the council, for the times when was simply not in the mood to argue semantics with them, to appear as an innocent docile woman who knew nothing of ancient rules and Lucian laws.

“Cat videos,” she said, keeping her voice light and sweet. Rising from her seat, she slowly moved to sit on the bed, being particularly careful with her movements as she kept the screen facing Adagium. She tapped on the next video in the playlist, starting up a two-minute clip of a chocobo chick trying to nudge itself under the belly of a large and ridiculously fat cat. “See?”

“…Oh.”

It had been the fourth video when Adagium spoke up, talking to himself more than to her. “This is not what I envisioned the Afterlife to be.”

Aulea, with a soft mirth to her quiet laugh, had pointed out this was far from the Afterlife, that they were both still within the living world. From there, the conversation had flowed easily enough, with brief pauses as Adagium occasionally coughed for that extra breath.

If she had not heard the prologue from Regis himself, she would have thrown Adagium’s story right out the window and deem him as some lunatic wanting to take advantage of her good will.

Because first of all, Adagium was not his name — it was Ardyn Lucis Caelum, older brother to Somnus Lucis Caelum. That wasn’t even the worst of it.

Aulea had left the tablet in Ardyn’s hands, letting him learn to fumble with the thing by himself, while she went to the small adjoining kitchenette to pour herself a glass of cold, very cold water.

She hovered over the sink, one hand clenching at the granite edge and the other dragging itself down her face. She wondered what exactly they got themselves into, why it had to happen during Regis’ reign of all times, and if maybe this was all some intricate lie crafted by a very cunning daemon. (That could shapeshift into human form? Ha! As if.) But as she pulled her hands away to fill a second glass, she thought, for the good of everyone and everything else but her and Regis’ sanity, that things would probably go worse if they had not been the ones to find Ardyn.

As much as they liked to joke about Regis’ soft heart, his gentleness had been one of his darling qualities she fell in love with, while also being responsible for the loyalty of Clarus and Cor. Mors, his father and late King, may have been more strict and utilitarian during his reign, but already Lucis was ready to turn themselves into the tender hands of Regis. The council had thought it a weakness to exploit, only to learn what a fierce lion paced just beneath, its fangs sharp and claws just as deadly.

So perhaps, she and Regis were just the people needed to tend to Ardyn’s scars and trauma, to help heal what should have been cared for so long ago, to keep his open wounds from festering and falling to infection. To keep the Scourge that literally embodied itself into his skin and bones and his very cells.

Aulea could feel the oncoming migraine from just thinking about that. Slaying daemons, products of the Starscourge that addled their lands, and sealing them were one thing; but purging it from a seemingly immortal man who, from what both she and Ardyn understood — even the man himself wasn’t sure of the specific details and implications of it all — was something beyond the Caelum magic. This was Oracle territory. And not even Sylva Nox Fleuret had experience in something so severe.

“Oh dear.”

Aulea turned around to see Ardyn holding the tablet, broken cleanly in half and sparking at its exposed wires, screen shards glittering on the silk bedding. He looked tragically concerned, torn between dropping the entire thing or trying to piece the broken parts together.

“I… Killed it?”

Not to mention Ardyn needed to play a game of major league catch-up. He had at least a couple thousand years’ worth to learn, and a whole curriculum on how phones and tablets work apparently.

Aulea allowed herself one large breath, puffing her chest out as she filled her lungs to the brim, and slowly exhaled through her lips. She lightly smacked her hands on her cheeks, prepping herself up for whatever ordeal that was to come. Alright, put it this way: maybe the gods decided to give her a pre-test. Because if she could help an ancient-Caelum-turned-Scourge-grandpa learn how the modern age worked — and work through all the emotional and mental damage of a two thousand year (wrongful) imprisonment — then helping Regis run the kingdom should be a breeze. Or something.

“Don’t worry about it.” Aulea picked up the two glasses, made her way over to Ardyn’s side, and offered one of the drinks. “I’m sure you’re parched.”

Ardyn didn’t have to say a word. He downed the entire glass in the same time span it took for Aulea to take one sip. Which made her feel rather foolish. For here she was, showing him cat videos when she should’ve addressed the basic needs first: food, warmth, rest, hygiene.

Rest was out of the way, sort of. Water? Check. She could whip up something easy while he showered, so that would check off food and hygiene. After refilling his glass, she went into the bathroom and made a beeline for the cabinets, rummaging through the extra shampoos and soaps as she searched for a certain bottle.

‘Oh.’ She grabbed the little chocobo toy hidden beneath a spare hand towel, giving the rubber toy a squeeze. It squeaked, high pitched and sharp, and she gave it another quick squish. Huh, she didn't know this was still here. Did Regis?

“What was that?” she heard Ardyn say, curiosity quite piqued. Aulea smiled to herself, pocketing the toy in her robes as she pulled out a bottle of “Sal's Hubba Bubba Bubbles.” She placed it at the edge of the porcelain tub as she made her way back to the door. Aulea leaned her head outside the doorway, meeting Ardyn’s inquiring gaze with her own bright one, and pulled out the rubber chocobo. She gave it a squeeze, and Ardyn realized what the noise had come from, judging from the small ‘o’ of his lips.

“Ardyn,” she said, wiggling the toy around in her hand, “would you like to try a bubble bath?”

Regis walked into his bedroom, somewhat dark with all the curtains still drawn — odd, he thought — and if he did not believe in the love they shared and knew of Aulea’s eccentric quips, he would have doubted all their years together upon seeing her towel dry a half-naked man’s hair, the same man curled up in Regis’ favorite armchair and devouring a plate of scrambled eggs.

There was a rubber chocobo toy resting on one of the arms.

His lips curled into a wry smile, audibly clearing his throat and earning both their gazes. Aulea looked only pleased as punch, though there was something tired around her eyes. Adagium, appearing far better and refreshed than when Regis had first laid eyes on him, still looked worn as the very walls that contained him, old and cracked in the most horrible of places, cold and hard deep within a shell. The bits of yellow egg around his mouth, though, somehow softened the image of a deadly beast that had once been chained within a stone tomb.

“Good morning, Reggie.” Aulea fitted the damp towel around Adagium’s shoulders and walked up to Regis, wrapping her arms around his neck and greeting him with a quick peck along his jaw. “Say hello to Ardyn.”

Regis followed his gaze from Aulea's outstretched hand, a gesture pointed at Adagium, whose fork hovered midair on the way to his mouth. “Hello,” he said, before turning back to whisper close to Aulea. “Ardyn?” He raised his eyebrows, searching for the answer in her face. “His name is —”

“Ardyn. Not Adagium.” Aulea tugged on his arm and led him to a chair across the small table, a short thing made of glass and elder wood that had certainly seen better days. “And you'll want to sit down for what you're about to hear.”

Regis was keenly aware of what should have been a working tablet instead of the broken pile of metal and scraps on his desk, but decided it was best to save that topic for later. Not to mention, Aulea held a glass of water obscuring his line of sight and intentionally blocking his view. He took the drink and sipped at it.

“Ardyn, this is Regis,” Aulea introduced, handing a simple plate of scrambled eggs to him.

Regis pushed the eggs around, not because he feared her cooking, but because he wasn't sure if eating was the best course of action, given her warning from earlier. And if Aulea didn't press him to eat, then, perhaps it was best to wait.

“My hero,” Ardyn drawled, after swallowing his food. “And very distant… Cousin?”

“Nephew,” Aulea chimed in, all right as rain and nodding sagely.

“Nephew then.”

“Pardon?” Regis looked from Ardyn to Aulea, then once more to Ardyn.

“Something like that.” Aulea crossed her arms. Ardyn was too busy eating to give any commentary, but he at least nodded along to her words.

And while the two seemed to be on understanding and oddly friendly terms already, Regis was out of the loop completely.

“Pardon?” he tried once again.

“Well —”

“You see —”

Both Ardyn and Aulea started to speak, but they paused to look at each other, each of their mouths opening and closing with no words shared as they tried to figure who should go first. Eventually, Aulea gestured for Ardyn to say his part, and she filled in the gaps between.

Still, Regis wasn’t sure if hearing it from Aulea lessened the wave of nausea that crept up the back of his throat and behind his eyes, and he wondered if he wasn’t back on the royal vessel, the waves softly rocking the ship; for even as he sat, his entire world was sent swaying, and the soft carpet beneath his feet felt unsteady as sand.

“Oh, he’s taking it better than I thought he would.” Aulea patted him on the shoulder, and Regis considered it as more out of sympathy than anything.

“Aulea,” Regis said, summoning forth all the seriousness he could muster, “it is still morning, and we both know I’m not a man of the drink, but if you would please.”

“Already have.” From seemingly out of nowhere, Aulea pressed a thick short glass into his hand, filled up to three fingers full of liquid dark amber.

“I love you.”

“You better.”

#ff15 #final fantasy xv #ardyn izunia #regis lucis caelum #aulea lucis caelum #i can type #...now to update my other fic lmao

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