#<- me just piling tags in here in hopes someone will see it lol
Text
[ID: A colored, digital comic featuring characters from Dey's Links Meet AU with a focus on Mask. The colors are muted and warm.
The group walk through a forest marked as "Rancher's Era." Rancher leads the group, commenting that they're "Almost there". Tiny, Tracks, Mask, Vet and Sky follow behind him, in that order.
"Oh, how sad..." someone says. A skeleton rests against a tree, sword and shield in hand, wearing the Hero's Shade armor. Mask's shadow casts upon the skeleton, their head lining up right with the skull.
Mask furrows their brow, expression near indiscernible.
"Kid, hurry up!" Mask rolls their eyes and turns to follow.
Sky waves to Mask as they run ahead to catch up. Their eyes are not visible. End ID]
hero's shade
#doodles#dlm#dey's links meet au#mask dlm#loz#legend of zelda#majora's mask#mm#twilight princess#tp#hero's shade#<- me just piling tags in here in hopes someone will see it lol#this has been cooking for two months. i'm happy it's finally done!#came up w the idea 2 months ago + did a thumbnail march 1st + started the actual file around march 26th#still unsure on the colors (the shadow rlly threw me off) but i'm ok w them for now#i don't usually color comics if u can tell#4/14/24#minor edit cuz there was a random blob
217 notes
·
View notes
Text
Would You Lie With Me and Just Forget the World?
-------------------------------------------------------
Relationship: Aizawa x Fem!Reader
Content Warnings: Angst, so much angst, mention of injuries, blood, fluff at the end.
Summary: Life as a Pro is never easy. You've spent your life seeing people on their worst days, but nothing could have prepared you for that person to be someone you loved.
A/N: The reader is a Pro-hero with a healing quirk. I was listening to Chasing Cars while writing this so here we are lol.
This was a request, and I hope it lives up to your expectations! :)
Word Count: 1640
-------------------------------------------------------
You wanted to fight. You wanted to be on the front line with the others, but healing quirks were rare. There was nothing you could say to have yourself assigned anywhere but with the medics at the back. Aizawa had been assigned to team Endeavour with Mic, the front lines. 'It would be fine' they said, 'they had each other' you assured yourself and with a soft kiss to your forehead Aizawa followed the other Pros leaving you behind to wait for the injured.
The smell of scorched earth and iron hung heavy in the air. Amid the chaos, it was easy to forget to worry. Your body went into autopilot, focusing on who you could heal and who you had to send off. Your quirk was two sides of the same coin – with one hand you could heal and with the other, you could inflict the pain of what you healed. However, healing took significantly more energy and you had started to feel the toll as the battle dragged on. The injured kept piling up, their faces blurring into the next until you heard your hero name called. You looked up from the young woman you were working on as another medic waved you down.
“I can finish, go on,” The nurse next to you urged. You quickly got up, rushing to the medic that had called for you. It was protocol, to call for the healing quirks for red tags – people who couldn’t be stabilized in the field by traditional medicine.
“What do you have?”
“Severe head injury, and an in-field self-amputation. They need you to stop the bleeding before…” The medics' voice faded. The pleas of civilians and heroes alike seemed to disappear as your body froze and your eyes fell on who lay on the stretcher.
“Miss?” The medic sounded far away. Your chest tightened, and you felt your body sway.
“Miss!” There were hands on you, pushing and pulling as you sunk to the ground. You were no stranger to blood, to exposed bones or to the haunting cries of people in pain. You were trained to handle a crisis, but nothing could have prepared you to see someone you loved in such a state. A sharp sting in your cheek brought you back, and that band tightening in your chest snapped as tears spilled down your face. You raised a hand to your cheek, staring up at the nervous medic who had just slapped you.
“Shota, that’s Shota,” You stammered, and the medic quickly connected the dots.
“I’m-I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you knew him. We’ll find someone else-” It was an instinct – one that prevailed in your haze as you pushed the medic aside. You tried to focus on the dulling sting in your cheek, you tried to ground yourself as you ran to Aizawa’s side.
“Move!” You shouted, your hands trembling as you tried to recall your training but there was only that instinct. Save him. Protect him.
“I’ve got you Sho,” You cried, pushing his hair from his face. “You’re going to be okay.”
You released slow breaths, trying to quell the panic that bubbled in your stomach as you pushed up his shirt. When it came to a full body recovery you found it best to work from the centre – it gave you the strongest connection. You pressed your hand over his chest, focusing on his heartbeat as you steadied your own to match.
“I’m sorry.” It wasn’t for his injuries, but for the guilt, he was sure to feel after you finished. After you took what was his for yourself. It was the peak of your quirk, the part few knew of and you had sworn to never use. If you used both hands – healing hand on the injured and the other on yourself – it allowed you to heal nearly anything with the catch of you taking on the damage
“I-I’m sorry,” You repeated. You felt your energy connect to his, your palm growing hot as the small scratches and bruises began to fade from his skin and finally you clasped your other hand over your forearm. The pain was jarring like you had been knocked in the head, but nothing compared to the feeling of tearing flesh that started to circle your right leg.
“H-Hey, hey you’re bleeding!” You felt blood soaking your pant leg. The vision in your right eye started to go and the taste of copper was heavy on your tongue. You had to stay focused and stay awake. If you lost the connection too soon it wouldn’t work.
“No…n-no…” You barely heard it over the pain. A hand slid over yours and you briefly met Aizawa’s tired gaze as his uninjured eye flickered red. You tried to blink away your tears, but your response was lost as you were torn away from him.
“Let me go!” But you had used the last of your strength on Aizawa. The arms that restrained you held tighter, dragging you away from Aizawa as his eye closed again. You threw your head back, managing to make contact with the chin of who grabbed you and they recoiled, dropping you in the process. You tried to drag yourself back to Aizawa, but a hand caught your ankle.
“That’s enough.”
“Y-Yamada?” You realized, and his blurry image came into focus as he pushed you to your back.
“I-I can save him. I can still fix…” Yamada ignored you, holding you down with a hand to your chest as he watched a medic push up your pant leg. A large gash cut through your shin, and he felt his stomach twist as he returned his attention to your face. Between the toll your healing took on your body, and the price you were ready to pay to heal Aizawa, he could tell you were fighting to stay awake. Your lips kept moving, muttering the same thing I can save him, I can save him, I can save him. Yamada lifted his hand, wiping the blood from your cheek as he stared at the wound that would leave you with a familiar scar.
“Enough,” Yamada repeated, clearing the lump in his throat as two medics approached with a stretcher.
“I won’t lose more friends today.”
-------------------------------------------------------
Aizawa couldn’t sleep. Which was unusual for him, and even more so considering all the medication swirling through his system. They had cleaned up his amputation and repaired his eye the best they could, but it would take time to see how the damage truly affected him. The leg could be replaced, but his eye? His quirk? He didn’t want to think about it, but if he didn’t his mind wandered to you. He was worried, of course, he was worried but he was also angry, and he didn’t want to be. So, instead, he went back to his own failings – his leg, his eye, his inability to protect his students or you.
“Sh-Shota?” Aizawa opened his eye, he tilted his head to the door as it slid closed and could make out your tired face in the dull light.
“What are you doing here?”
“They wouldn’t tell me if you were okay,” You replied, leaning your weight against the door. He was relieved to see you, but the slouch in your posture and the bandages that matched his own brought back that anger he knew you didn’t deserve.
“Yamada told me what you did,” He said slowly. “You broke your promise.”
“I know,” You replied quietly, avoiding his gaze.
“You could have died.”
“I know.”
“And it would have been my fault.” You lingered near the door, tears rolling down your cheeks as you stared at the floor.
“You promised me, and you were ready to leave me behind.”
“Sho,” You said gently. “I’m sorry I broke that promise, but you can’t tell me that if the roles were reversed you wouldn’t have done the same.”
“It’s not the same.” It was an irrational response, he knew it was, but your gaze held nothing but patience.
“It’s okay to be scared.” He wasn’t sure if it was your tone, or the gentleness in your eyes, or the medication in his system but he felt a tear roll down his cheek. You took slow steps, leaning on your good leg as you made your way to his side. He closed his unbandaged eye as you lifted your hand to his cheek and wiped the tear.
“It scares me too,” You confessed. “That it’s possible to love someone this much.”
Aizawa looked up at you, a soft smile breaking across his face as his thoughts slipped away. A momentary escape from his grief and fear as your words rang in his ears, and he found a small burst of energy to lift his head. You closed the gap, pressing your lips to his in a tender kiss and for a moment time stood still.
“I love you too,” He murmured against your lips. A confession that had been barred by that same fear that fueled his anger, but how could he hold anything back when you were willing to give him everything you had. You stepped back, and he lifted the sheets giving you space to crawl in next to him. You slipped your arm beneath his head, and he grimaced as he shifted, turning so he could bury his face in your chest.
“Say it again,” He yawned, and you chuckled before pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.
“I love you Shota.” It made him smile. In the comfort of your arms, with your love filling his soul, Aizawa felt safe enough to drop his guard and melt in your embrace. Tomorrow you’d have to face reality, but tonight you could rest in each other's comfort and let the weight of the world slip from your shoulders.
#aizawa shota x reader#aizawa x reader#aizawa shouta#aizawa fluff#shouta aizawa x reader#aizawa x y/n#mha fanfiction#aizawa x you#mha x y/n
263 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hey I wanted to ask you if you also write for the actor Tom Sturridge.
If so, could you write a Tom x british princess reader story in wich the princess is born the last child of Diana bevor she died and is a really fascinating person. Like she is very serious about er work and duty but is a really funny and sarcastic person outside of it and makes fun with the queen and her brothers.
Could you pleeeaaase write that for me my love?❤️
Wild Child
Tom Sturridge x Princess!Reader
Summary: There was a reason why you were called the wild child, and one particular man was going to find out for himself during his time volunteering at a nonprofit.
Word Count: 1k+
Warnings: British Princess!reader, reader is blonde cause duh her mom is princess Diana, fluff, typos, etc.
A/N: this is such a wild request. peak delusion i think. and i am so here for it HAHAHH PLEASE I AM SO A PRINCESS AND DIANA IS, LIKE, MY MOM FR T_T I LOVE HER SM HAHAHAAH i just like i cant believe im writing this aHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH it's such a niche request HAHAAHAH
idk why but writing about the royal family made me apprehensive lol HAHAHH IDK ITS SO CRINGY TO WRITE FOR ME TO ADD THEM so i decided forGET THEM IMMA DO A FREESTYLE
I REALLY HOPE YOU LIKE IT MY LOVE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH THANK YOU FOR THE REQ IT WAS SO WILD AND FUN THAT I EVEN MADE THIS HEADER LOL
ig im still tagging @pinksirensong because of course i must that was our deal
I spit out blonde strands of my hair when it flies into my mouth. I release a huff as I bend down and pick up a box from the pile which was unloaded from the truck. I then head back inside the place, watching my step as I went.
"Oh, my dear, you didn't have to!" one of the head organizers calls out to me from across the room, interrupting the instruction she was giving to the rest of the volunteers.
I shoot her a lopsided smile, "are you calling me weak, young lady?"
The grey haired woman named Berta laughs as I make my way to the back. She calls out, "not at all, princess!"
Berta, and the two people she had been instructing, watch me go to the back. One of the two whispers to the other, "ya know she's actually the princess, as in the literal princess of the country."
Gasp, "wait, really? I was gonna say she looks so much like the princess!"
"Yeah, she does cause she is the princess! She volunteers here often."
"Hush you two," Berta chides, "enough gossip!"
I release a breath and roll my shoulders back when I put the heavy box down. I take a moment to stretch and then head to the door to repeat the process. That was until someone walked in, grunting, carrying two boxes in their arms.
"Hey, you need some help there?" I say walking over.
I see blue eyes and dark hair peek from behind the brown object. I offer him a smile and move to get one of the boxes from him.
"It's alright, I've got it," he calls as I move to take one from him.
I give him a quick nod and instead watch him as he puts the boxes down.
When he straightens up, he huffs and turns to me, in time to see my smirk before I speak, "an impressive feat, considering the weight of those boxes, superman."
He catches his breath and returns my expression, exaggeratedly biting his lower lip as he grips one of his biceps, "these guns are no joke."
I snort and raise a hand, "lucky for me, I know how to disassemble artillery."
He pulls his head back, lips still curved up into a smile, "wait, really?"
I nod with a brow quirked, "quicker than you can say Worcestershire."
We share a chuckle because of my words. I then extend my hand to him, saying my name in introduction. He obliges, taking my hand, telling me his name is Tom.
"Do you volunteer here often?" he asks after we withdrawing hands.
I hum and narrow my eyes, "I'd say alternatively would be more appropriate."
"Ah."
"And you?"
"I think, is the third time I've come back here."
I nod, motioning to the door, silently leading us out. I turn to him as I say a quick thank you when opens the door, "is there any particular reason you've come back?"
"Honestly, the people here are kind and I've grown to love the company of the elderly chaps I've met."
I match the smile on his face as we make our way outside to get the rest of the boxes. "Yeah, I'd say the same reasons have drawn me back to this place as well."
"Oh, good," someone calls just before we could exit, making Tom and I turn to the speaker. It was Berta, "you're both here. We need help giving the seniors grub. I'd love it if both my prettiest volunteers gave out the food so they wouldn't be so cranky."
Tom and I chuckle, catching each other's gaze along the way.
"Come on, lovies," she beckons, waving her hands, "I've got enough people on the job for the boxes."
When she walks off, I turn to Tom, who raises a hand, "after you."
I give him a nod and a soft smile as I trail after Berta.
Once we get to the cafeteria, it was apparent they really did need help giving out food, for not only were there many old ladies and gentlemen queued up impatiently, there were very apparent individuals giving the poor youth volunteers a hard time over the food.
Berta gives an exasperated gasp.
I place a hand on her shoulder as I watch the scene that was stressing her out, "I've got it," I mutter, walking over to the elderly gentleman and the young lady he was scolding.
Berta watches the scene play out, as does Tom behind her. Tom cannot help but chuckle at the exaggerated expressions and the big smile that replaces the loud remarks that was being thrown.
Berta lets out a sigh as he watched the periodically difficult man walk off happily, "that girl is truly a gem."
Tom nods, humming softly.
"Come along now, love, the food is not going to serve itself."
After disarming the intense argument, I release a sigh and find my way to the food stall, smiling at Tom who was there, blushing at the compliments the elderly ladies were giving him.
"Quite a popular fellow, aren't you," I tease, coming up to his side, as I ask the next person in line what they wanted to eat.
Tom smiles at the lady that tells him he's got gorgeous blue eyes. I chuckle to myself upon hearing it. He turns to me as he grabs an empty plate, "not nearly as popular as you though. You're clearly a fan favorite. Everyone has been asking me about you."
"Hmm, and what have you been saying?"
His lips curve, "that I have but only met the princess today myself, but I am sure she is as brilliant as they have been describing."
I playfully roll my eyes at him, just as a woman greets me by name and title. I match her small curtsy with a nod, as she then begins to trail off about how much she loved my mother, "I remember watching her wedding in '81. Oh, the princess was such a beauty, and you my dear, are the spitting image of her."
I offer her a smile, "that is truly such a compliment. I do try to be more like her everyday."
She sighs, "such a shame. She was gone too soon."
I nod, "yes. Yes, she was."
After that conversation, I the air between Tom and I became a bit rigid. I couldn't blame him. The topic usually elicits that type of reaction. I work on breaking the ice then.
"Tell me, Tom," I say, once we served the last of the people in line. I lean on the food cart as I turn to the taller man.
He nods and peers down on me, brushing off his sleeves along the way.
"Are you one of the very few people on earth that don't like Princess Diana?"
He chokes on his spit.
I snort, "I mean," I raise my hand in surrender, "I do recall how she kept me from eating chocolates to my hearts content, and I say, I still have a bit of resentment in me over that, even after all these years."
Tom breaks into a fit of laughs. It is enough to break his tension.
I join him with much softer laughter before adding, "or perhaps you're just upset you didn't manage to snag a roll in one of the many biographical shows about my family being produced."
Tom snorts again, pressing his lips tightly.
"I have the ladies over there to thank for the information of you being an actor," I tilt my head to the right.
He gathers himself and allows his chuckles to die down a little before continuing. Tom withholds his laughter as he jokes, "I'm actually rather upset over the fact you haven't seen my work."
I match his sarcastic expression with a sigh, "unfortunately, my time watching on the telly is quite limited. I don't have room for bad acting."
Tom hollers, gripping his chest as he throws his head back in laughter, "ok, now that hurts!"
I shrug, pouting as I pat his shoulder, "the truth hurts."
Before Tom could rebut, I hear my name get called by a woman. I pull away from Tom and spot Lizzie. She was, quite frankly, my biggest fan in the place. I wave to her as she does me. Soon enough, she is beckoning me over.
I nod as I smile at her, turning to Tom after, "duty calls."
"I'll be here waiting," he offers, "you've got this, your grace."
I raise a brow at him as I walk off, "it's your royal highness to you."
#tom sturridge#tom sturridge fanfic#tom sturridge fluff#tom sturridge fanfiction#the sandman fanfic#royalty au#princess fanfic#dream of the endless fanfic#rpf fanfic#the sandman fluff#dream of the endless fluff#tom sturridge x reader#tom sturridge x princess!reader#tom sturridge x british royal!reader
168 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Betrayer | Chapter Nine: Different Light
You saw everything with a sudden, blinding sort of clarity then.
Pairing: Albert Wesker/F!Reader, Chris Redfield/F!Reader
Tags: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Violence Mention, Pregnancy/Miscarriage Mention, Slight Blood, Smut
Notes: Hey, everybody! I know it has been a hot minute since I posted, but my life has been insane lately, between school and personal things happening that have taken up a lot of my time and energy. Fortunately, this chapter is the longest one so far at a whopping 13.8k words and also our first smut scene, so I hope that's enough of a gift for your patience lol. I know last time I said I was going to post another flashback sequence, but I ended up breaking those up and scattering them in later chapters because I felt it flowed better that way. My updates might be kinda slow from here on out because the plot is starting to become more involved with every chapter, so it's taking more time and brain power to write them, but I also think they're getting better with every installment (as well as longer) so I can't complain on my end lol. I'm just really proud of how this story is progressing and seeing Lucky's development as her own character. I am loosely forming this fic into a five-act structure, and I think I consider this chapter to be the end of Act I. Anyway, I really hope you like this chapter as much as I do! If you want to, I'd love to see your favorite lines or scenes in the comments, but no pressure! I just like knowing what people enjoy about the story lol.
Masterlist | Previous | Next
--------------------
Day 2; Survivors’ Camp
You weren’t sure how long you sat there crying, soaking Chris’s shirt through with your tears like you had the night before.
But what else could you do but mourn?
You had lost everything, and now the man you loved–who you had spoken to mere days ago like nothing was amiss–had become a monster. Had been so quick to hurt you.
A couple days and your entire life as you knew it was changed forever.
How do you move forward from that?
You knew grief. It was familiar to you. Losing your mother was a constant ache that would never go away, but you had learned to live with it. Maneuver around it.
But this level of tragedy? So many of your friends, gone. Every member of your little family but your brother, gone. Your entire city, gone. You never thought you’d experience something like this. Couldn’t even fathom something of this scale.
And you? You were meant to be just another body to add to the pile. Someone else to be lost to the ash and dust that now made up your home.
At the center of it all, though, was Wesker and what he had done.
You had held him in such high regard.
You had loved him.
And he treated the lives of you and your team like they were nothing.
“Just lambs for slaughter,” he had said, as if that’s all they ever amounted to. As if he didn’t see them every day for two years. As if he didn’t roll his eyes and lightly chuckle at their antics. As if they wouldn’t have died to save him given the choice.
You thought of those red eyes and your dead friends’ faces suddenly flashed through your mind.
Joseph. Forest. Richard. Kenneth. Edward. Marini.
Were their lives really worth the power he gained?
Was yours?
“Come on, Lucky. Let’s get you something to eat, okay?” Chris coaxed, peeling you off of him gently to peer down at you.
You knew you looked a mess. Your hair was sticking to your face, your eyes were red and puffy, and your cheeks were blotchy from rubbing them against Chris’s shirt. But, you realized, you were no longer crying.
You nodded, breathing shakily as he stood and held out his hand for you to take, the large man easily pulling you to your feet. He led you to the fire once more, perhaps thinking you were cold due to the trembling of your form, and sat you on one of the logs.
“Me and Steve still have dinner duty for the next few days, so I have to go to the kitchen, but I’ll be back soon.” His tone almost sounded like he was talking to a small child and not an adult woman–which a part of you took offense to–but you found it comforting anyway. He was trying, and you appreciated it.
You simply nodded yet again, unable to muster a basic response, let alone your usual snark. You were too drained for that.
He gave you a small smile, stroking your hair tenderly before turning to leave.
You felt the stares of the other survivors on you as you sat there, and realized with embarrassment that you just had a full-blown meltdown in front of the entire camp. You could only imagine what they must be thinking.
Probably that you were pathetic. That you were weak.
You couldn’t be angry about it, though. They would be right.
All you could do was sigh deeply and curl in on yourself, your head in your hands and your eyes squeezed shut.
You wished your brain could turn off, but you were bombarded with every horrid image–real or imagined–of the things you had learned of and experienced instead.
Killers in masks. Monsters. Fire. Ashes. Corpses. Blood.
So much blood.
Soaked in their blood–
“Hey…” came a soft voice, their hand pressing to your back as they stood beside you.
You unfurled yourself slowly, opening your eyes to see Jill regarding you, concern in her blue gaze.
“Hey,” you replied finally, swallowing down your emotions as best you could.
She smiled lightly and sat beside you, the two of you turning your attention to the crackling flames. “I know this is probably a stupid question, but… you okay?”
You sniffled, wiping your nose with your sleeve. “No. Don’t know if I ever will be again if I’m honest.”
“I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you will be.” Her tone was soft but resolute, as if there was no room for argument. As if it were the absolute truth.
“And how do you know that?” you interrogated, your voice raising as your sadness turned bitter, whipping your head to face her.
She didn’t meet your gaze, and you could see the reflection of the campfire dancing in her eyes. “Because I lived it too.”
You snapped your mouth shut, a feeling of shame wedging itself in your throat.
How self-absorbed could you be? You weren’t the only one suffering here. In fact, everyone was suffering here. That was the point of this place, wasn’t it?
“I’m sorry, Jill. Should have invited you to the pity party I’m throwing, huh?”
She laughed at that, gripping your forearm with her hand as she faced you. “You don’t need to be sorry, Lucky. You have every right to be upset. To grieve. But you’re not alone. You’ll never be alone. You have me and Chris–Rebecca and Claire. And when you get close to the others, you’ll have them too.”
“Thank you,” you breathed, the weight lifting, if only slightly. You still felt a twinge of guilt as you recalled the trial, however, believing you needed to add, “And I’m sorry I couldn’t reach you in time back there, by the way. I tried, but I was too late.”
“It happens. No use crying over spilled milk, right?”
“Or spilled guts…” you muttered.
She rolled her eyes. “Hey, at least you’re all patched up now.”
You startled at that, suddenly aware of the fact that she was right.
You looked down at your person, not an injury, rip, or stain in sight, save for the dirt on the back of your jeans from sitting on the ground. Your ankle was completely healed and the cut on your face was gone, as well as the wounds you received during the trial.
But you still felt the ghost of an ache in your neck from where Wesker had broken it.
And something else. Almost like a piece of you was missing. So small, you probably wouldn’t have noticed it if you weren’t taking inventory of your body at that moment.
“Every death you experience, you come back… not quite right,” Chris had told you the day prior.
You could barely contain the shiver that rolled up your spine.
You took a deep breath.
Find the silver lining.
“Yeah, at least there’s that.”
“Ladies! How’s it going?” Carlos called jovially as he approached the two of you.
When you turned to greet him, though, he was watching you carefully, like you were some cornered animal that would bite his hand off if he made any sudden moves.
Might not be far off, you thought with dark amusement.
“Been better,” Jill told him truthfully before knocking her shoulder into yours, “but we’re tough.”
“Would never doubt it,” he replied, plopping on the ground behind you. You and Jill flipped over on the log to face him, the fire immediately warming up your spine.
Carlos glanced back at you, then, clearly debating if he should make a comment or not. You were about to tell him to spit it out when he beat you to it, “The trial didn’t go well, I take it?”
You scoffed. “What was your first clue?”
“Rebecca telling us Wesker’s in the realm now, probably.”
You went rigid at the man’s name, not sure if you were ready to talk about it just yet.
Carlos, sensing your obvious discomfort, changed routes, “You gonna be okay, Lucky? You seemed pretty… shook up… when you got back.”
You met Jill’s eyes for a moment and she smiled at you fondly before you answered, “I will be.”
He nodded and the three of you sat in silence for a while before he spoke again, “Not to be nosy, but what were you two chatting about before I came over?”
Jill laughed. “Not that it’s any of your business, but we were talking about how at least Lucky’s all healed up now.”
“Yeah, how exactly does that even work?” you questioned.
Carlos shrugged. “We aren’t sure. Just know that when we die, our bodies revert to what they were when we first ended up in the realm.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Let’s say you showed up here with long hair. You decide to cut it short, maybe because it’s easier to deal with or just because you like it better that way, right?”
“... Okay?”
“Well, you get into a trial and you end up dying. When you wake up back at camp, your hair is gonna be long again. Like it was when the fog first took you. We don’t know how it works, but we do know it’s the Entity keeping us from aging.”
“Holy fuck…” You didn’t know what to make of that. The idea of never aging might have been comforting in a different context, but here? Yikes.
You supposed it made sense, insomuch that you existed in some reality-bending hellscape. You figured you’d stop being shocked by every new piece of information you learned at some point, but apparently that wasn’t today.
“Chris didn’t tell you about this?” You shook your head and Carlos blew air through his teeth. “Chris never slacks off. Must be losing it.”
“Hey, he’s just had a lot on his mind lately,” Jill defended.
You turned to her. “Are you talking about me being here?”
“Yeah. It really threw him off, finding you.” A melancholy look flashed across her face. “He never thought he’d see you again. He's just trying to wrap his head around it. We both are.”
“Oh.”
Carlos grimaced, realizing he struck a nerve. “Well, I don’t mind telling you what I know, in any case.”
“Thanks, dude. You’re a real one.”
The three of you laughed, the conversation turning lighter as you moved on to other topics, asking Carlos and Jill as many questions about your new world as you could think of. Unfortunately, their usual answer was “I don’t know”. You doubted the other survivors would be any more informed.
You were startled when a hand clamped on your shoulder and looked up to find Chris behind you, a bowl in his hand. “Here, for you.”
You thanked him with an appreciative smile and took it from him, a joyful gasp escaping you when you realized it was chili that filled the ceramic.
He cupped a hand over his mouth and called for the other survivors to get their dinner, which made you feel a little guilty that you were served first. Jill and Carlos didn’t complain, though–didn’t even seem surprised–as they stood to form a line in front of Steve just a few feet away.
Chris sat next to you, eyeing you with furrowed brows as you ate.
For some reason, you couldn’t meet his gaze, instead staring at the contents of your bowl. “It’s really good.”
“It’s just a bunch of heated-up canned chili. Can’t exactly take credit for the taste.”
You giggled. “And here I thought you were some sort of culinary genius.”
Chris smiled at you and it made your heart flip inside your chest. “Glad to see you’re feeling better.”
“You can thank Jill and Carlos for that. I was pretty determined to be miserable til they came over,” you joked.
“Maybe I should get pointers,” he said, dropping his large hand on your knee, his thumb rubbing absent-mindedly over the fabric of your jeans.
It sent a jolt through you, but you tried to ignore it. “Don’t sell yourself short, Redfield. If it weren’t for you, I think I would have lost my mind already.”
“Thanks, but you’re a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for, you know that?”
The way he looked at you… it was like you were the only person to exist in that moment. It made you feel warm.
But he was wrong.
You didn’t have the heart to argue, though, simply nodding and turning back to your food.
“I got permission to let you take a bath, by the way. I’ll fill the tub up in a bit.”
You dropped your spoon, your eyes shooting to his face once more. “I thought only people who survived the trial could use the bath?”
“Yeah, that’s the usual case. We take camp-wide votes for big decisions, but Jake, Claudette, Meg, and Dwight are kind of our unofficial leaders since they were here first. I convinced them to let you have this because of… well, everything you’ve been through the last couple of days.”
“And they agreed, just like that?” They seemed to be taking their water conservation very seriously, so this was surprising to you.
He shook his head. “No, ended up offering to clean the outhouses for a week, and gave up my own chance to bathe the next time I survive a trial. Could be worse, though.”
You gasped. “Chris, you don’t need to do that! I’m not even dirty anymore.”
“It’s not a big deal, Lucky. In fact… I wish I could do more.”
Tears welled in your eyes, overwhelmed by his willingness to go above and beyond just to offer you any comfort he could. “Thank you.”
He gave you a small smile and squeezed your knee gently before standing. “I’ll get the water heated up.”
“What can I do to help?” you asked, setting your half-eaten food on the log beside you to jump to your feet.
Chris stopped you from getting up by placing a firm hold on your shoulder. “No, I got this. You just finish eating and rest, okay?”
“Well, you should at least get dinner first, Chris. I’m sure you’re starving.”
His hand moved to cup your face, brown eyes stern as they met your own. “Don’t worry about it, Lucky. I’ll eat when I’m done. Just hang tight.”
“... Fine,” you sighed, picking your bowl up once more.
“It shouldn’t be too long.” He leaned forward and kissed the crown of your head before walking away.
You weren’t sure you would ever get used to the sudden affection from your friend, but you weren’t complaining. You much preferred this to his cheesy pick-up lines.
You flipped your legs back over the log to face the fire once more, eating your chili slowly in order to savor it.
Rebecca made her way over to you, her own bowl in hand, and sat next to you. “Hey, Lucky. Good to see you’re not hurt anymore.”
You nodded at that. “Yeah, I was pretty fucked up before… well, you know.”
“You mean beyond the ankle and the cut on your face?”
“Yeah. Had a concussion and ripped open my arm. It was rough.”
“How did he… end it? Did he just hook you?”
Your hand shot to your throat at that, the familiar ache returning just at the mention of it. “No. He, uh, he snapped my neck.”
Her brows lifted. “Well, that’s… unexpected. But not unheard of, I guess. Just doesn’t really seem like him, though, you know?”
“At this point, there’s very little I do know anymore.”
Rebecca worried her bottom lip with her teeth, looking at the fire. “I was devastated when they told me what happened at the mansion. Half the team, wiped out. And to think he was behind it all… It’s just awful.”
“You’re telling me,” you replied with a humorless laugh.
“I think the worst part was finding out what happened to Richard.” She turned back to you, placing her small hand on your upper arm. “And to you.”
“For better or for worse, at least I’m here now,” you told her, curling your fingers over hers.
She smiled, eyes shining. “For better. Definitely for better.”
The two of you sat in comfortable silence as you finished eating, but you caught her gaze wandering to the dark-haired girl she had been talking to the night before. Cheryl, if you weren’t mistaken.
“You seem to be getting pretty close with that girl,” you teased. “Hasn’t it only been a week since you got here, and you already found a best friend?”
She giggled, sounding almost shy—something you took note of. “She’s just a really nice and interesting person, is all. I like being around her.”
“It’s a good thing we have each other, us survivors. Things would probably feel a lot more hopeless, otherwise,” you mused, patting her knee genially, as you would your younger siblings.
Rebecca grinned at you and laid her head on your shoulder. “What did you say when I first got recruited? ‘Through thick and thin'?”
“Mhm. I think I also said ‘teamwork makes the dream work, unless you're stuck with Brad’s lazy ass', but that’s not exactly relevant here.”
She laughed loudly. “I know it’s only been a week since I saw you last, but I missed you, Lucky.”
“Well, it was only like, two days that I had gone without seeing you, and I missed you, too. Couldn’t have my replacement dying on me her first real mission,” you joked.
“According to the others, I made it out just fine, at least,” she replied. “I think you would have been really proud of how I handled myself.”
You ruffled her hair. “I’m always proud of you, kiddo.”
She pulled away to swat your hand from her head but responded with sincerity, “Thanks, Lucky. It makes me happy to know I have you in my corner. And I’ll always be in yours.”
You gave her a warm smile, but were suddenly reminded of the trial and how you had failed her. “I’m sorry about what happened earlier. I wish I could have saved you.”
“Don’t be. We were all thrown off guard. We’ll be better prepared to handle it next time.”
Next time.
You didn’t want to think about that.
Before you could muster a reply, Chris appeared in front of you once more, a sheen of sweat over his face, neck, and arms, his vest gone and his shirt unbuttoned slightly.
It was honestly unfair that he could look that good absolutely drenched in perspiration. You would look like a wet rat, probably. Smell like one, too.
You felt a heat blooming in your face as you raked over his form with wide eyes.
What is wrong with me? you thought. It’s not like I’ve never seen him sweat before.
Rebecca gave you a sly look, but you chose to ignore it as she waved you goodbye and left.
“The tub is filled, so you should be set,” Chris told you. “I sent Claire to get you soap and whatever else you might need. She’ll meet you there.”
“What did I do to deserve you?” you questioned as you stood, leaving your empty bowl on the log. You wondered how many pots of water it took to fill the tub, and you were grateful for the work he put in on your behalf.
Chris beamed at you, dark eyes crinkling around the edges in a way that made your heart palpitate. “Don’t get it twisted, Lucky. I’m the one that should be asking you that.”
You rolled your eyes but gave his arm an affectionate squeeze. “Thank you again, Chris. I appreciate this more than you could ever know.”
“It’s the least I could do,” he replied, as if he hadn’t been helping you the moment he found you in that farmhouse. Scratch that; the moment the two of you even started working together.
“The least you could do,” you began, giving him a severe look, “is eat your fucking dinner.”
It was his turn to roll his eyes. “You gonna tell me to clean my room while I’m at it?”
You stuck your tongue out. “Don’t start calling me ‘mommy’ if I do.”
He shook his head before gently pushing you in the direction of the bathhouses. “Go on, now, before the water gets cold. Don’t want all that work to be for nothing.”
“Alright, alright, I’m going. See you later.”
“See you, Lucky.”
You trudged out of the clearing and into the sparse tree line, following the lanterns that lit the dirt path ahead of you. It was a relatively short but quiet journey, the voices of the other survivors fading the farther you traversed.
It was peaceful and dark, and you closed your eyes to enjoy it for a moment.
A breeze enveloped you as it blew past, bringing with it the smell of woodsmoke and petrichor, as if it were going to rain.
That was something you had asked Carlos; if the weather changed. He told you that no, the only “weather” to exist was inside of the trials.
On one hand, you were glad you wouldn’t have to worry about things like flooding or blizzards within the camp, but that meant there would be no warmth here.
You never thought you’d miss the sun, of all things.
You arrived at your destination, finding Claire sitting on the steps of the platform leading to the bathhouses, a bag in her lap.
“Hey, Lucky!” she greeted as you neared.
“Hey, Claire. Chris told me you got something for me?”
“Sure do. Here, let me show you.” She stood up and fished through the bag, displaying the items as she mentioned them, “Towel and washrag. Bar soap. Shampoo and conditioner–a real hot commodity in these parts. A razor. Facial cleanser. And get this: a bath bomb. Been saving this bad boy for a rainy day, but I figured you could use it more.”
“Claire, I don’t want to take that from you. Keep it,” you told her earnestly.
“No, I made up my mind, Lucky. Use it and use it well, got it?” she replied, shoving the bag into your arms.
“You and your brother are way too nice to me, you know that?”
“It’s because you deserve it,” she informed you, giving you a grin that looked so much like Chris’s. “And besides, you’re practically family to us. We take care of each other.”
“Well, I can’t tell you how grateful I am. You guys are making this far more bearable. I’d be lost without you. Literally.” You chuckled to yourself at the thought, wondering where you’d be if they didn’t find you yesterday. A lot less pampered, that was for sure.
“We’re just glad to have you back.” Her smile remained, but there was an undercurrent of strong emotions in her voice, something akin to regret and a bittersweet sort of relief. “Even if it’s here.”
“Yeah,” you responded with a sigh. “I do suppose this is better than dead.”
“A real improvement, if you ask me.”
You laughed at that, bumping into her playfully as you moved past her. “See you on the flip side, Redfield Junior.”
She rolled her eyes at the nickname you had given her when you first got acquainted and began her trek back to camp, calling over her shoulder, “Try not to drown in there.”
“Don’t worry, I know how to swim,” you retorted, smiling to yourself as you turned and entered the small building before you.
You were hit with billowing steam as you opened the door, the wet heat of the room warming you instantly.
You locked the deadbolt and moved further inside, setting out your new toiletries on a bench that sat next to the tub.
You kicked off your sneakers and stripped completely, tossing your clothes onto the floor with reckless abandon, desperate to be in that bath.
You dipped one foot into the hot water, finding it nearly scalding but able to withstand slowly sinking your body into it with a hiss. You grabbed the bath bomb Claire was so excited about and kept it in your palm as you lowered it, watching as it fizzled in your hand, the chalky substances it was made of turning the water a milky white.
You stared at it as it dissipated, your mind wandering to the events that led to this very moment.
You didn’t want to think about your family anymore. You didn’t want to think about your dead friends. You didn’t want to think about your failures in the trial.
And above all, you didn’t want to think about Wesker.
It was a difficult task, something that took all of your effort, but you fought off the thoughts with a deep breath, grabbing for whatever soap was closest to you and getting to work.
You went through the motions, your sole focus washing your already relatively clean body and hair, finishing quickly.
You grabbed the razor–your final order of business–after running your hands over the stubble on your legs and deciding it was time for a shave.
You remembered what Carlos had told you, that every time you died, your body would change back to the state it was in when you first arrived here.
You huffed in annoyance, the idea of dying just to wake back up with hairy legs sounding rather inconvenient.
You knew it didn’t matter in the scheme of things. In fact, keeping your body hair might even be a smart move to give you extra warmth in a place so damn cold all of the time. But smooth limbs–and, well, other places–was something you preferred. It was purely cosmetic, but it made you feel a sense of normalcy, and that’s what you wanted. Desperately.
To feel normal.
You supposed it could be worse, though. You considered the other women in the camp, curious if any of them were brought here on their period. Imagining bleeding through your pants every time you died painfully in a trial felt like such an insult to injury.
Then another thought came to you, one that filled you with sudden horror:
What would happen if you came to the realm pregnant?
Surely, a baby couldn’t handle the stress of such an environment, even if the mother managed to survive long enough to give birth, right?
But what would happen if the baby didn’t miscarry and the mother did die in trials? Would the baby just revert to the size it was when the mother first arrived? Would she just be… perpetually pregnant?
Worse still, if she ever managed to actually give birth, what would happen to the baby? Would it also be beholden to trials? Would it ever age? Could it exist outside of this place?
Unconsciously, your palm drifted to your stomach, your fingers stretching over the skin there.
It was probably better not to dwell on what-ifs.
So lost in your thoughts, the hand that held the razor slipped against your knee, slicing it open.
You gasped in pain as you assessed the cut, blood sliding down your leg and dripping into the water, tinging the white film layered on top a dark pink.
All you could do was stare, watching yourself bleed.
You glanced at the razor in your hand, specks of red now decorating the tightly packed blades.
You suddenly thought of Ghost Face. Of digging your knife between his ribs. Of cracking his skull against that tree.
That’s right. You had killed him.
The full weight of the realization hit you. You had been aware of it the second it happened, of course, but it had seemed so unreal until this very moment.
You wondered if you should feel more guilty.
Sure, it was technically an accident. Sure, it was in self-defense. And yeah, you knew now he would be just fine, but your apathy over such an ordeal scared you a little.
All that moral grandstanding. All the times you hesitated or failed to do what needed to be done, whether to save yourself or someone you cared about, in order to preserve some sense of righteousness. Of innocence.
All of that inner turmoil to avoid killing, but the moment you actually ended someone’s life, you couldn’t care less.
Maybe that made you just as monstrous as every killer and creature that stalked these woods.
Just another thought to file away for later, you decided.
You dipped your head under the cooling water, then, closing your eyes and listening to the surface ripple with every slight movement of your body. You wondered what it would feel like to drown, but it was like a part of you already knew. It was... uncomfortably familiar.
You supposed you felt like you were drowning since the very first night of your arrival. Maybe even longer than that, if you really thought about it.
Don't think about it.
You rose from the tub, taking in a deep breath, deciding it was time to go.
You wiped the blood from your leg and finished shaving, blotting the cut with your already-used washrag until it clotted. You then stood up, drying yourself with the towel Claire gave you and stepping on the worn, but still fluffy mat on the floor.
You reached over and pulled the drain, watching the white and pink foam swirl as it rushed down the pipes, feeling as though a part of you sunk with it.
You realized you had forgotten to grab a set of fresh clothes from your room before coming here, though the ones you had arrived in were still relatively clean. Before you could start putting them on, though, you noticed a pile sitting on a table in the corner of the room, folded neatly.
You picked up the sweatpants and oversized hoodie, wondering which of your friends had gone out of their way to find and leave these for you. Their kindness had been the only good thing about this place. You hoped to return it someday.
You hung the used towel and washrag onto the side of the tub to dry before dressing quickly. You gathered your previous attire and toiletries into the bag before heading back to camp, clean and cozy.
You still felt like you were drowning, but it was more like a lapping tide than a wave now.
Happy was still a far-off notion, but you could settle for numb.
You could function with numb.
It was the best you could do.
“Oh good, there you are,” Ada spoke from the path ahead of you, making you jump. “We’re about to have a meeting.”
“A meeting?” you questioned, catching up to her, the two of you turning to head back into the clearing.
“Apparently, they have one whenever a new killer shows up in the realm.” She was thoughtful for a moment before turning to you and adding, “Is it true that it was Wesker?”
You nodded, discomforted by the notion that there would be a mass discussion concerning the man who led you to your ruin. You hoped you could get by without having to explain anything that happened in the trial. It was too soon to relive it.
Ada’s lips pursed and you wondered what she was thinking.
“Did you… know him?” you asked, though a part of you was afraid of her reply. Why, you weren’t sure.
“Worked with him. Just like you,” she responded curtly as you entered the center of camp.
Just like me, you thought bitterly. You believed you were special to him once. You knew better now. You were just someone else he stepped on to get what he wanted.
You wondered if he thought Ada was just as expendable as you clearly were.
She walked away from you, then, probably to avoid any more questions. You couldn’t blame her.
You looked around you, noting that everyone was setting up chairs to face the fire in rows, chatting quietly amongst themselves. You could feel tension in the air, likely nervous energy caused by a new killer being let loose by the Entity.
Wesker, a killer. Someone to be afraid of. You pondered if you’d ever come to terms with that, after everything the two of you once had.
It was a nameless thing, what existed between you. You questioned every day just how deep it went, but you had been so certain it was something real. Something tangible. Something that drew you towards him like an invisible thread. Or perhaps gravity itself.
A moth to a flame was probably closer to the truth.
You were so desperate to be near him at one time, and you realized with shame that you made it so easy for him to wrap you around his finger.
You let him burn up your wings.
Would this ache ever go away?
“Hey, Lucky,” Chris called to you, pulling you from your thoughts. He was setting two chairs down as you approached, standing to his full height and appraising you with a warm smile. “I’m glad the clothes fit. I wasn’t sure.”
“You got these for me?” you asked, getting emotional again over him taking such good care of you.
“Yeah, but it’s no big deal. I felt kinda weird going into your room without you there to get you a change, so I figured I’d just root around in the storage closet for something comfortable. Had to pass by it to get to the kitchen anyway,” he replied as he sat down, patting the seat next to him.
“Well, thank you. For like, the millionth time,” you said as you plopped down beside him, setting your bag on the ground. “The bath was great, by the way. Beats a cold rag, that’s for sure.”
He chuckled at that. “I’m glad. I hoped it might make you feel better.”
You leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder. “It definitely helped.”
The two of you were quiet for a moment as you watched the other survivors settle into the chairs around you before Chris spoke, “We’re having a meeting about Wesker being here. We do this with every new killer in the realm, to talk strategy.”
You tensed up before replying, “Yeah, Ada mentioned it.“
He noticed. “You okay?”
“Just peachy,” you lied, not wanting him to fuss over you any more than he already had.
He exhaled at that but didn’t push, deciding to sit in silence as the camp finished setting up for the meeting.
A man you hadn’t been introduced to yet made his way to the front of the crowd. The stranger was wearing a tan trench coat and seemed very calm despite the disquieted group before him. He had kind eyes.
“Why is he running the meeting?” you whispered to Chris. “I thought Dwight, Claudette, Meg, and Jake were the head honchos.”
“They are, but they’re not really good at this sort of thing,” he explained. “Adam was a teacher, and he can manage a rowdy bunch better than anybody.”
“We’ve been informed there’s a new killer,” Adam told the crowd, voice carrying over the camp. “For those who are new here, we’re going to go over the trial and discuss the killer’s moves. We want to find out his strengths and weaknesses and to know what to expect from him. Rebecca, you got back to camp first. Can you tell us what happened?”
Rebecca stood from her chair next to Cheryl. “Yes. Jill and I got separated from Chris and Lucky during the trial. Wesker came after us first, so Jill and I split up. He targeted me, and we were in a chase for a couple minutes when he managed to catch up to me. He was fast. Insanely fast. I was jumping over a window when he grabbed me with these black… tentacles… that came out of his hand, and he hooked me before going after the others. I didn’t see anything else before the Entity claimed me.”
“Thank you, Rebecca. Jill, can you give us a rundown of your side of things, since you were downed next?” Adam asked.
Rebecca returned to her seat and Jill nodded before standing herself. “Wesker found me, and like Rebecca said, he was fast. At one point, he was practically a blur while he was on my tail. He slashed me with his knife while I was trying to drop a pallet in his way, and then he slashed me again when he caught up. He hooked me after making a snide comment and left. I also didn’t see anything else before I died.”
“Thanks, Jill. What about you, Chris?”
Your thoughts were running a mile a minute as you listened to your friends’ experiences, startled when Chris gently pushed you off of him to rise to his feet and speak for himself.
You stared down at your lap as he answered, “I went to find Rebecca–get her off the hook–when Wesker cut off my path. He was borderline maniacal when he saw me, but that’s unsurprising, considering our history. He grabbed me with those tentacles and threw me down the hallway. Infected me with whatever virus they’re made of–”
“Infected?” you implored fearfully, eyes jumping up to meet Chris’s.
They were vile, those wet, black tendrils, but you had no idea they could infect you. You wondered why Wesker didn’t utilize that “ability” in his pursuit of you.
“Don’t worry. I died in the trial, so I’m not anymore,” Chris reassured you and the surrounding survivors before returning to his story. “He chased me for a while, tried to rile me up with what he was saying, but my only goal was to get away from him long enough to save Rebecca and Jill. Unfortunately, he reached me first and slammed me into a wall before hooking me. Lucky tried to help me, but…”
He glanced at you briefly, almost apologetic, as he continued, “He grabbed her before she could. The Entity killed me shortly after.”
You were violently reminded of that long claw sinking right into Chris’s gut as he reached out for you. You remembered the blood that sprayed across your face as his body went limp.
You remembered the light leaving his eyes before he was taken away from you.
You felt tears building in your waterline, trying to fight off the emotions threatening to engulf you completely. Chris was alive and breathing–standing right beside you–so why did you feel so anguished at what you saw?
Perhaps death wasn’t permanent here, but it was still real. It was still painful and bloody and visceral.
You had to avert your gaze from your friend or else you’d lose it, suddenly only able to see his lifeless corpse when you looked at him.
Adam rubbed his chin thoughtfully, seeming perturbed. “Lucky, you’re next.”
Your heart rate skyrocketed at his words, your mouth feeling dry as every face in the vicinity turned to stare directly at you.
You dug your fingernails into your sweatpants, breath hitching, the tears already in your eyes blurring your vision.
You spent the whole evening trying to block out what happened and now you’d have to describe it in detail to a bunch of people you only knew a handful of.
What’s more, you didn’t know what exactly to say. You couldn’t just tell them what all Wesker had said to you. That he kissed you. No one–not Chris, or Jill, or Claire, or Rebecca–knew about your affair with your captain. And this was not the time or place to inform them if you could ever bring yourself to admit to it.
I can’t do this. You panicked as memories of the trial flooded your brain, unbidden. Unconsciously, your hand shot up to your throat, feeling lightheaded and like you couldn’t breathe.
“Lucky?” Chris questioned, worried, as he sat back down beside you.
You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Chris soothed, placing his hand on your back. “I know it isn’t easy.”
“The place isn’t sunshine and rainbows, but we need details on the new killer,” a woman scolded from behind you, wearing a purple ruffled blouse. “Toughen up.”
“Yun-Jin,” Chris warned, voice dropping from the warmth he was showing you to something cold. Hardened.
It made you shiver.
“Yun-Jin’s right,” Detective Tapp added. “I get it was Lucky’s first trial and it went sideways, but we can’t afford to lose out on anything that could give us a leg up on this guy. You know that, Redfield.”
“Don’t start with me,” Chris barked, his anger rising. “After everything she’s been through, she deserves a little slack.”
“Oh, like getting a full gallon of water and a bath she didn’t earn?” Yun-Jin retorted.
There was a murmur across the clearing as Chris leapt to his feet, jabbing a finger in the woman’s direction with a fire in his eyes you weren’t sure you’d ever seen before. “Those were one-time things I got full permission to do and that I’m making up for, not that it’s any of your goddamn business. She’s more than earned a fucking break.”
“If it weren’t for the circumstances,” Adam spoke, voice gentle and coaxing, “I would be more inclined to let this go. But they have a point, Chris. We need any information we can get.”
Chris was about to argue, but you stood suddenly, unable to handle the tension building before you.
They were right. You needed to get your shit together.
You grabbed Chris’s arm and he turned to you as you spoke, “It’s fine, Chris. I’ll just–I’ll just get it off my chest.”
“You sure?” His tone shifted from anger to concern as he regarded you. You knew he could tell just how anxious you felt–it was practically radiating off of you–but you were determined.
You were reminded of Bill’s words from earlier in the night.
“No room for weakness, or for burdens.”
“I got this,” you told him, resolute. “Thank you, though.”
He nodded and returned to his seat as you glanced around the clearing at every face trained solely on you.
You took a deep breath.
“I heard Chris yelling across the building, and I tried to finish the gen I was working on before I went to help Rebecca and Jill. Wesker–” You paused a moment to collect yourself. “Wesker got to me before I could fix the gen. We were both shocked to see each other. I told him I knew what he did to me and my friends back home and I–I slapped him. He grabbed me by the throat with those… tentacles… and threw me through a window. Gave me a concussion. Rebecca died as I was running away from him. He caught up to me and I managed to get out of his grip and fell through a hole in the floor. I cut my arm open, but I was able to escape him. When I tried to get to Jill, I was too late. I managed to reach Chris, but Wesker got to me first and pulled me off of him.”
You stopped there, feeling yourself tremble as you recounted your side of events, albeit modified.
“What happened next?” Adam asked, voice firm but kind.
You found yourself picking at your cuticles as you continued, “He… threw me down the stairs. The hatch opened only a few feet away from me, but he closed it before I could reach it. He acted like he was going to stab me, maybe hook me, but… he, uh, he changed his mind. Broke my neck instead. I think that’s everything.”
Adam smiled at you reassuringly. “Thank you, Lucky. You can sit down now.”
You swallowed thickly, feeling somewhat guilty for all of the omissions you believed you needed to make as you sank back into your chair.
Chris didn’t say anything as he glanced over at you, but you felt a bit more grounded when he laced his fingers between yours.
After the group discussed the trial itself, questions began to deviate into what Wesker was like before arriving here. You didn’t have anything to add to the conversation, as you didn’t get to witness the way he acted after the mansion incident. Until today.
The others from your world–specifically Chris, Jill, Ada, and Sheva–explained just how much of a monster he had become.
The virus he injected himself with the night of his betrayal gave him super speed, inhuman strength, regenerative abilities, and those red, snake-like eyes.
Then he had infected himself with another virus–“uroboros”, as Sheva called it–which gifted him those inky appendages that he had complete control over.
Worse still, he had tried to kill your friends on multiple occasions over the years, nearly succeeding.
You guessed after the trial, he had succeeded.
It made you feel ill to even consider it.
Your mind wandered as they discussed your former captain and possible strategies to employ in order to survive run-ins with him. He had seemed so intent on executing your friends during the trial. Had been efficient at providing the Entity with its meal.
So why did he seem to take his sweet time with you?
You thought briefly, upon seeing him in the trial for the first time, that maybe he missed you as much as you missed him. But he had been so quick to threaten you, to injure you, to kill you.
How could you have meant anything to him?
Like you had asked him–and like he had answered–you really were nothing more than a plaything for him. Something to entertain him. To pass the time while he plotted the deaths of you and your team.
“Toy or pet, you still belong to me,” he had said. Like you were nothing. Like he didn’t even see you as a person.
To know now that’s how he viewed you was hard to reconcile, especially while you had admired and respected him. Idolized him. Loved him.
“I think that’s all, for now,” Adam stated, officially calling an end to the meeting. “Let’s get some R and R tonight, everyone.”
“I’m about to help put everything back,” Chris told you as the others got to their feet, releasing your hand, “but a few of us are going to play some cards if you want to join us.”
You shook your head as you stood, grabbing your bag from the ground. “No. I think I’m just gonna go to my room if that’s alright?”
Those deep brown eyes of his were soft as he gazed at you, tucking your still-wet hair behind your ear. “Of course, Lucky. Get some sleep, okay?”
You simply nodded and turned on your heels, booking it to the medical facility as fast as you could walk.
Some of the other survivors looked at you as you passed, but you were thankful none of them tried to stop you for a chat.
You made it to your little room quickly, closing the door and throwing your bag on the dresser before lighting the candle on your bedside table. You stripped your clothes off immediately in order to change into your pajamas.
It was just a gray tank top over black drawstring shorts, but it was comfortable and you knew your moth-eaten bedding would keep you plenty warm.
You brushed your hair and then your teeth (using the container to spit out the toothpaste) before putting on some deodorant. You drank deeply straight from your jug, leaving a little bit of water for your morning routine.
You then laid down under your blankets, staring up at the tiled ceiling in the dark, exhausted but unable to close your eyes.
You wanted to stop thinking. You wanted to stop feeling.
Would it ever go away?
You weren’t sure how long you laid there, fighting every urge to cry, to scream, to hit something until your knuckles split open.
You threw off your covers and stood, lighting the candle once more before pacing aimlessly, ripping the skin off of your nails until they stung and bled.
You thought you wanted to be alone, but your brain wouldn’t let you rest.
Chris had told you that you could go and find him if you needed anything, but fuck, were you tired of leaning on him so much. You were certain you’d eventually wear him down with how clingy and pitiful you were being.
No, you needed to suffer through this on your own.
That’s what you decided, at least, until there was a gentle knock on your door that scattered all of your thoughts like a flock of birds.
“Lucky?” Chris’s voice sounded from the hallway. “You awake?”
You quickly made your way to your door, pulling it open to reveal your friend standing before you. He was wearing a dark green shirt and plaid pajama pants, his feet bare on the weathered linoleum floor.
“Can’t sleep?” he asked, his arms crossed over his chest.
“No,” you replied. “Can’t stop… thinking.”
“You and me both.” He shifted on his feet as he peered into your room. “Want company? We could ‘think’ together.”
“Sure thing.” You gave him a small smile and moved to let him in, closing the door before following him to your bed, the two of you sitting on the edge of it.
Just like the night before. Just like earlier in the day.
It was almost funny to you how Chris was becoming such a fixture in your new life, in a way he never was before. You would be lying if you said you didn’t like it.
“I’m sorry about what happened at the meeting. That wasn’t fair of them to put you on the spot like that,” he told you.
You weren’t looking at each other, both of you simply staring at the floor instead.
You tucked your legs up under your chin, wrapping your arms around them tightly. “It’s okay, really. It sucked, but I get it. Everyone has a role to play, and I’ve been nothing but whiny and useless the whole time I’ve been here.”
Chris turned to you sharply, voice stern, “You are not useless. It’s only been your second full day here. You’ll find your place soon enough. Some of the others took days–even weeks–to adjust. They’re hypocrites for wanting to throw you in the deep end like that.”
“I’ve already made this joke tonight,” you forewarned, your lips twitching upwards at the corners, “but I do know how to swim.”
Chris let out a puff of air and rolled his eyes at you. “Glad you can wisecrack after everything. I was… pretty worried when you first got back to camp.”
“I know. I’m sorry for being so dramatic.”
“Dramatic?” Chris repeated, an expression of shock alighting his features. “Lucky, you’ve been through hell and you think crying about it is being dramatic? Are you serious?”
You dropped your face to your knees to hide from his stare. “It’s just embarrassing that I lost my cool like that, is all. I don’t want the others to think I’m weak. And I feel like I’ve done nothing but make myself look stupid and pathetic while following you around like a stray. I just thought–I thought I was better than this.”
“I’ve never been the best when it comes to emotional things–that’s always been more Jill’s territory–but believe me when I say you’re allowed to be upset. I don't think anyone is really judging you for expressing that. And if they are? They can kiss my ass.”
You giggled at that, bumping your shoulder into his. “Such a way with words, Redfield.”
He laughed in response, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence once again. The candle flickered, casting your shadows onto the wall, and you watched them dance together as your thoughts raced laps in your mind.
“I can’t believe Wesker’s here now,” Chris stated, breaking you from your reverie.
When you glanced over at your friend, his whole body was tense, his hands balled into tight fists.
“Same here.” You sighed before dropping your legs to the side of the bed again, grabbing Chris’s arm that was closest to you and placing it in your lap, gently stroking your fingers over his knuckles in an attempt to calm him.
He froze at first but seemed to relax under your careful touch.
“This might sound harsh,” Chris began, eyes still focused on your hands, “but maybe it’s better you died in the trial.”
You were horrified as you stared at him, mouth agape, halting your soothing motions. “Why would you say that?!”
He grimaced. “I got a good look at you when you were trying to get me off the hook, Lucky. I know you explained what happened at the meeting, but it was much worse than what you described. Those injuries would have been a bitch to deal with if you lived.”
You wanted to be angry, but he had a point. “Yeah… I guess I’m glad everything’s healed up. That concussion was no joke.”
“If you were anyone else, I’d call you a klutz, but I know how you fight,” Chris teased.
“‘Accident prone’ is probably more accurate,” you replied with an amused huff. Your expression dropped, though, when you added, “But in my defense, Wesker was relentless.”
His tone was dark when he responded, “Yeah, that sounds about right.”
You picked back up where you left off, then, slowly dragging the pads of your fingers over his knuckles as the quiet took hold once more.
His hand suddenly flexed beneath yours, his voice strained as he spoke again, “I know what you’re going through. What it was like to find out what Wesker had done.”
You pressed your lips in a thin line at that.
Oh, Chris, you thought, you really don’t.
He was Chris’s captain, same as you–they seemed to be on friendly, albeit professional, terms–but Chris didn’t know him like you did.
Like I thought I did, you corrected yourself solemnly.
You wondered if you should tell Chris the truth about your relationship with Wesker, but the more you considered it, the more you questioned what the point would be.
It wasn’t real, whatever it was.
And there was a part of you that feared you’d be seen as a traitor if word of your affair got out. Your friends and the other survivors were all you had in this world. You couldn’t lose anyone else. You wouldn’t.
Chris, unaware of your internal struggle, continued, “It makes perfect sense the Entity would bring him here, though. It’s always coming up with new ways to fuck with us.”
“Really seems to be the case,” you agreed, falling back on your bed to face the ceiling.
Chris gazed down at you, his expression thoughtful for a moment before he followed your lead, sprawling out beside you.
“I hate that you're stuck here with us,” he told you, voice low. “But I’m happy to have you back.”
“Yeah, at least we’re together. At least I’m alive.”
“Alive, after five years without you. Still doesn’t feel real to me.”
You turned your head to face him, tone softening, “Five years is a long time.”
“It’s funny,” he said, though there was no humor in his voice, “you were dead for longer than I knew you, and it never got easier.”
You reached down between you, lacing your fingers with his, his large hand engulfing yours completely in its warmth. He had done so much to comfort you in the last two days, and you wanted to return it in any way you could.
“I’m here now,” you told him.
“Yeah. You’re here now.”
His grasp only tightened.
You ached on his behalf. Sure, you had lost everything, too, but at least you didn’t have to experience it firsthand.
He bore witness to so much death. You wondered if he had seen yours as well.
You spoke, “In the trial, Wesker told me… He told me he watched me die that night in the mansion. Did you?”
Chris sighed deeply, unable to look at you. “No. He, uh, he sent me off to secure the area. More or less kicked me out of the room. When I got back, well… you were already gone.”
“Fuck.”
“He told me you turned. That he had to… take you down. I believed him at the time, but after finding out he was behind it all, something just didn’t sit right with me.”
Your eyebrows shot up at his words. “And what was that?”
“He was too adamant that I leave. Made sure the two of you would be alone. I thought for a while he killed you as soon as I walked off just to get you out of the way, but you probably weren’t gonna make it. So now I wonder: why would he bother if you were dying anyway? I mean, Wesker only killed Marini because he found out the truth about his ties to Umbrella. He let the rest of us run around like chickens with our heads cut off until we were zombie food. Doesn’t make sense to me that he would kill you unless you really did turn.”
You didn’t know what to make of that. It hurt so much worse to know that Wesker was the one to kill you that night in the mansion, but it also left you with so many questions.
“Maybe–maybe it was a mercy killing,” you offered, somehow hopeful despite evidence to the contrary.
Chris scoffed. “After what he did to you in the trial, do you really think that would be his play? I know you’re just recently coming to terms with the fact he’s a psychopath and always has been, but I think you know better than that by now.”
Maybe you did, but the Wesker you met in that trial was not the one you knew. He was a lot more unpredictable. He went from nearly killing you, to kissing you, to killing you anyway. You couldn’t wrap your head around it.
You both went silent for a long while after that, lost in thought, not wanting to talk about your former captain anymore.
Then a new curiosity came to mind.
“Was I… brave?” you whispered out into the room.
“What?” Chris shifted then, looking at you directly, your clasped hands falling undone.
“The night I died. Was I brave?”
He grinned fondly. “Oh, yeah. Absolutely. 'Til the very end.”
“You mean it? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?”
“No, not about that. Never. You were the bravest.” He paused for a moment before leaning in closer, his tone conspiratorial, “Inspiring, even.”
“Oh, shut up,” you said lightheartedly, shoving his chest.
He laughed, grabbing your wrist playfully and holding your hand to his sternum before his expression grew serious again. “I tease, but… I do mean it. You did your best under the circumstances. A hero through and through. Faced death with more grace than I probably ever could.”
That shocked you, considering your desperation to survive your trial.
You were practically a rat willing to gnaw its own leg off to escape a trap. What grace was there in that?
Chris spoke, pulling you back to reality, “Lucky, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. For a long time now, actually.”
Your gaze drew up to his at the sound of his voice, his demeanor seemingly… nervous?
How strange, you thought.
Chris was never nervous. He was a confident man. A headstrong one.
You wondered if you should be worried, but there was an openness in the way he regarded you. A vulnerability in his eyes.
What could it mean?
He swallowed, glancing away from you before he managed to get out the words, “I, uh… Well… I have feelings for you.”
Your eyes widened at his profession, the unexpectedness of it jarring you completely.
“Really?” you questioned in disbelief.
He laughed a little, sounding almost timorous. “Yeah. Really.”
“How… How long?”
He looked pensive for a moment before answering, “I mean, I’ve had a thing for you since we met if I’m being honest. You really never got the hint? I felt like I was pretty obvious about it.”
Your cheeks reddened as your mind flashed over the past few years, the weight of realizing just how oblivious you were to his advances hitting you like a ton of bricks. “No, I guess I didn’t…”
“Jeez, I really don’t know what more I could have done to get my point across. Write it on my forehead?”
“In my defense, you flirted with everyone, Chris. I thought it was harmless fun. I didn’t know you meant it.”
He winced at that and you felt bad for being so dismissive, but you knew you were right. You saw how he was before.
But he was different now, wasn’t he?
“I was an idiot for that. For not being more upfront and serious about it,” he admitted, sighing. “I was going to be, though. The night of the mansion, I was going to tell you outright what I felt. But then we were gearing up for the rescue mission and we got into that fight about you coming along and I just… didn’t.”
“Oh,” was all you could say, absentmindedly splaying your fingers out where they pressed against his chest. You could feel his heart beating under your touch. You found it hard to focus on anything else, butterflies threatening to burst from your gut and out of your mouth.
His hand traveled from around your wrist to lay on top of your own. “I promised myself that when we got back from the mission, I would tell you. But… you never made it home. So I didn’t get the chance. I always regretted it.”
Tears threatened to spill from you for what felt like the hundredth time that day.
Chris finally looked back at you, swallowing down his own emotions, eyes glossy.
You felt yourself moving before you even realized what you were doing, rushing forward and pressing your mouth to his clumsily.
He was soft and warm and you didn’t mind the scrape of his chapped lips against yours.
He went rigid at the action, and you pulled back immediately, equal parts shocked by what you just did and worried you fucked it all up.
“What are you doing?” he asked you, brows knitted together.
He released his hold on your hand, your palm falling from his chest to lay beside you, now cold without his touch.
Your face grew hot with embarrassment and a dreadful sense of rejection flooded you instantly.
“I–I don’t know,” you replied quietly–truthfully.
You supposed that with his confession, every single interaction you’ve had with him in recent memory was suddenly brought under a different light.
“I didn’t tell you all of that just to get something out of it, Lucky,” he said intently. “I just wanted to get it off my chest after years of wishing I could. You don’t have to feel the same way.”
The words left his mouth, his expression earnest, and it all clicked into place.
The way he had been looking at you, the way he touched you, the way he defended and protected you, the way he took care of you.
Not just since you ended up here, but all the times before.
You thought of motorcycle rides in the countryside, arms wrapped tightly around his waist. Of drunken dances in crowded bars, laughing and tugging at his hand to join you in the fray. Of cups of coffee–made just how you liked–placed on your desk during busy days. Of uttered be careful’s before every mission and urgent are you okay?’s after.
You saw everything with a sudden, blinding sort of clarity then.
“But I do,” you told him, pressing your fingers to his jaw, desperate to share this new revelation. “I do.”
A sharp exhale escaped him, as if in disbelief, a gleam brightening his dark eyes in the flickering candlelight, “Let’s do this the right way, then.”
He cupped your cheeks with both hands, lowering his face to yours.
Your eyelids fluttered closed as his lips met yours again, but this time, it was just so much more.
It was languid and tender, and you could feel his stubble scratch lightly against your skin.
You deepened the kiss, one hand fisted into his shirt while the other gripped the back of his neck, pulling him closer, closer, closer still.
He let out a quiet groan, tangling his fingers into your hair before pressing his tongue to the seam of your mouth. You easily parted your lips for him, reveling in the minty taste of his toothpaste as he consumed you wholly.
He trailed a palm down along your side, grabbing your waist to tug you nearer. His touch lit a fire inside of you, and you wasted no time in pushing him onto his back, straddling him eagerly.
He allowed you to take the reins, both of you running your hands over each other’s bodies, your tongues melding together fervently.
You could feel him hardening beneath you and you ground down against him, gasping into his mouth at the friction.
He pulled away from you, then, breathing raggedly, his voice a warning, “Lucky…”
You leaned down and kissed along his jaw, simply stating, “I want you.”
He sat up, taking you with him, and held you still in his lap. “Maybe we should slow down, yeah?”
“Why? Do you not want this?” you questioned, feeling suddenly insecure.
Could his feelings for you have changed now that he actually had you? Were you not what he thought he wanted? Did you mess something up? Were you too desperate?
“More than you can imagine,” he assured you with a chuckle. “But you’ve been through a lot recently and you’re vulnerable right now. I don’t want to take advantage of that. It would be wrong.”
You huffed. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I haven’t lost my mind just yet.”
He sighed deeply, his voice exasperated, “Lucky, c’mon.”
“Chris, I need this. Being right here with you is the safest I’ve felt in days. The most alive. Please, just… just take it all away. Just for tonight.”
“And what if you regret it?” he asked. “I wouldn’t know how to live with myself if doing this just makes things worse for you.”
You pressed your forehead against his, feeling simultaneously so blessed to have such a thoughtful man in your arms and frustrated by his stubbornness to be so overbearingly protective of you, even against himself. “I am telling you right now, I won’t regret it. If you want me too, can you just trust my judgment on this?”
He pulled his face away from you and stared into your eyes, searching. “Tell me you’re sure.”
You breathed out, “I’m sure.”
He nodded, his large hands sliding up to hold your face once more. “Okay.”
With that, he kissed you again, more forceful than before. You practically melted into him.
You slid your hips back and forth in his lap, just to feel his clothed bulge skim against you.
A primal, guttural noise escaped his throat at your movements and he grabbed the meat of your ass to pick up the speed.
“You need this just as much as I do, don’t you?” you queried playfully, bracing your hands on his broad shoulders to steady yourself.
“I do.” He kissed along your neck, and you shivered at his hot breath sweeping across your skin. “More than anything.”
The two of you parted briefly to yank each other’s shirts off, and you grazed your eyes over his bare chest as he did the same to you.
“So fucking beautiful,” he murmured, pressing his mouth to your breasts.
You whimpered as his tongue lapped at one of your hardening nipples, his calloused fingers gently pinching the other.
“Chris, please…” you begged, needing him to touch you lower.
He released you from his mouth and smiled at you, wide and boyish and smug. “You need to learn some patience, baby.”
Baby.
The pet name made your chest tighten. Made you lightheaded.
It wasn’t just the word itself that affected you, but the way he said it, like honey dripping from his tongue. It went straight to your core.
You sighed as he kissed you again, hard, holding you so tightly to him, you thought your bodies might just fuse together.
And then, suddenly, he flipped you onto your back, making you yelp as you bounced onto the creaky mattress below you. He chuckled as he hovered over you, pressing his lips to the corner of your mouth.
“You think tossing me around is funny, huh?” you huffed, giving him a severe look.
“Only a little bit,” he replied, smiling into your skin as he trailed his mouth down your body. “That little noise you made was just too cute to pass up.”
You scoffed lightheartedly, the sound turning into more of a strangled whine as his lips brushed against your hip. He then slipped off the bed and you sat up on your bent elbows. “Where are you going?”
“Right here, sweetheart,” he informed you matter-of-factly before grabbing your legs and pulling you to the edge of the mattress.
You swallowed thickly as he tugged your pajama shorts and panties off of your body and tossed them somewhere in the room, placing your ankles on his shoulders as he pried open your thighs.
“You don’t have to…” you told him earnestly, feeling suddenly nervous now that the realization of what you were doing finally hit you.
Were you really about to fuck your best friend? Was this a good idea?
You wanted it. Badly. His confession filled you with butterflies–filled you with a need you didn’t know existed until you kissed him.
But what happens after?
“Hey,” he coaxed, turning his head to kiss the inside of your calf, “I want to. Just let me take care of you, baby.”
Oh, you were a goner now.
“O-okay.”
He smiled at you again, radiant like the sun, before he slowly began to ascend up your leg with kisses, his hand trailing a similar path on the other.
You watched him intently, practically panting because you wanted nothing more than for him to get on with it. But you couldn’t deny how good it felt to have him be so attentive to you. Relish you.
He reached your knee when he paused, bringing his free hand to caress the newly formed scab there. “What’s this?”
“M’nothing. Just nicked myself shaving,” you replied.
“What am I gonna do with you?” He sighed in faux exasperation, brushing his lips over the small cut in a way that spread warmth through your whole body. “‘Accident prone’ is right.”
You giggled, rolling your eyes. “Shut up and eat me out already, Redfield.”
He quirked a brow at your crass demand. “Yes, ma’am.”
He was quick to work his way up the rest of your leg, sucking a mark into your inner thigh hard enough to make your hips buck. Satisfied with his handiwork, he lowered his mouth over your aching sex, looking up at you with hunger in his dark, half-lidded eyes.
You gasped as he licked a stripe from your entrance to your clit, watching you closely as he teased you.
“Chris!” you whined, carding a hand through his short hair. “Please, I need more. Please.”
“Anything you want,” he said lowly, diving his tongue further into you.
Your chest was heaving as he devoured you, one of his hands gripping your thigh to keep them parted and the other pressed to your lower belly, preventing you from canting your hips.
“You taste so fucking good,” he breathed before suckling your clit in a way that had you keening.
You could feel an orgasm quickly approaching, making you fist the sheets. “M’gonna come, Chris.”
“Then come for me.” He pulled his hand from your stomach, gently nudging a finger against your entrance. You cried out in ecstasy as he sunk it deeper into you, his tongue still working against your clit.
You came hard, your vision swimming as you rutted against his finger and mouth.
He continued his movements as you rode out the high, only pulling away once you sagged into the mattress.
You picked up your head, breathing heavily, to find him looking at you, his mouth and chin glistening with your slick. He smirked at you lecherously and it made your cheeks flush.
He crawled back onto the bed and scooped you up into his arms, laying you vertically across it. He kissed you fervently as he lounged beside you, and you could taste yourself on his tongue, the lasciviousness of it making you clench around nothing.
He slipped his hand down between your legs, once again pushing one of his thick digits into you, making you shudder at the intrusion.
“You’re so fucking tight, baby,” he lamented as he pressed his lips to your sweaty temple. “I have to get you ready for me.”
You babbled incoherently as he slotted a second finger inside of you, gripping the sheets in one hand and his taut forearm in the other. He managed to fit a third, the stretch making you gasp loudly, screwing your eyes shut at the sensation.
“There you go,” he cooed against your skin, rubbing his thumb against your sensitive clit. “You think you can come for me again?”
“Y-yeah,” you panted.
He leaned further over you, kissing you roughly. “C’mon. Give it to me.”
He caught your broken cry in his mouth as you came again, lights exploding behind your eyes as you seized up beneath him.
He pulled back to let you breathe, slowly drawing his fingers from your soaked folds, popping them into his mouth and sucking them clean of you. You whimpered at the sight.
He moved to poise above you once more, setting himself between your still-shaking legs.
You watched as he hooked his thumbs around the waistband of his pants and boxer briefs, lowering them just enough to release his hardened member.
Your breath hitched as you looked at it. It was cut, the tip weeping with precome, the base of it littered with short, dark curls. It was slightly above average in length, but that’s not what caught your attention. It was thick–thicker than you’ve ever had.
You suddenly realized why he needed three fingers.
He took the shaft into his hand, pumping it a couple times before he leaned over you, gliding the head of it through your folds leisurely.
“You sure you still want this?” he asked you. His tone was serious, but it couldn't drown out the huskiness and need in his voice.
You nodded vigorously, a whine caught in your throat as he pressed so gently against your entrance.
“You need to tell me,” came the whispered command as he stared down at you, eyes flicking over your face, his expression dark and amorous.
“Please, I want to feel you.”
He kissed your lips again, deep and passionate. “Okay, baby. I’m gonna go real slow, alright?”
“Okay,” you murmured into his mouth before he pulled back.
To his word, he pushed in slowly, the wide head of him stretching you out as he breached you. He watched you intently as you let out a silent cry, the burn of him filling you to the hilt almost overwhelming.
“Fuck, you’re still so tight,” he exhaled. “Gonna have to sit here a minute, let you adjust.”
You nodded and he lowered his head to kiss you. He pressed a palm against your breast and squeezed lightly, the sensation making you arch your back. He trailed his lips down your jaw to your neck, where he suckled gently on the flesh there.
You sighed wantonly, moving your hands against his broad chest, running them over the hair there, his abs tightening at your touch.
You shifted your hips slightly as the burn subsided, desperate to feel him move.
“M’ready, Chris,” you told him.
“Yeah?” he asked, pulling back from the bruise he left on your throat.
Tired of waiting, you bucked up a little more aggressively, your fingers trailing down to his ass to pull him closer.
He chuckled, pecking the corner of your mouth as you let out a complaintive whine. “Alright, baby, I’m gonna move now.”
You breathed heavily as he slowly–agonizingly–pulled out of you, the tip of him just barely remaining inside of you. He snapped forward in one fluid motion and the oxygen left your lungs in a high-pitched cry.
He then repeated that same action, hitting deeper with each thrust. It made your head spin. But you needed more.
“I–I need it faster–faster n’ harder, Chris. Please!” you begged, gripping his arms tightly as they caged you beneath him.
“You sure you can handle that?” he questioned, brows furrowed as he looked down at you.
“I’m not made of glass, Chris. I can handle it.”
He pressed his body closer to yours, holding your face in his hands. “I don’t want to hurt you, Lucky.”
“I trust you not to,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck and hitching your legs around his waist.
He captured your lips gently with his own. “If that’s what you want.”
He did as you requested, picking up the pace and driving his hips forward more forcefully. You let out a shriek at the feeling of it, knowing that you weren’t going to last much longer.
He leaned forward, nipping and tugging at your earlobe, grunts of pleasure being pushed through his teeth.
You dug your nails harshly into his back, crying out, “Chris, I’m close!”
His face fell into the crook of your neck, his nose brushing along your pulse point with every deep plunge. “Me too, baby.”
The pressure built up quickly, that wound up coil in your belly ready to spring for the third time.
His hand tangled into your hair as he kissed you again. “Let go for me, honey.”
All it took was a couple more strokes and you were undone, burying your face into his shoulder to muffle the scream.
You spasmed around him as he fucked you through it, a loud groan of your name–your real name, which sounded so blissful from his mouth–leaving him as he pulled out, spilling onto your stomach.
He rolled over and collapsed onto his side, the two of you still panting and heaving.
You stared up at the shadows dancing along the ceiling as you caught your breath, mind so gloriously blank after being filled with nothing but horror and grief for so long. You don’t think you’ve felt this relaxed and at peace in days.
Chris exhaled deeply beside you as he pulled his pants back up on his hips, covering his softening member once more before turning to look at you.
He sat up on one elbow as his eyes grazed over your still-naked form, resting his hand against your cheek and shifting you to face him.
“You okay?” he asked you, his voice low and steady, concern in his brown eyes.
You nodded your head weakly, feeling exhaustion creeping up on you, offering him a lazy smile. “Better than ever. Thank you.”
He let out a quiet laugh and leaned down, kissing you sweetly. “I should be thanking you.”
“I didn’t do that much. Just laid here. You did all the work,” you pointed out as he got off the bed.
He rolled his eyes at your words, grabbed his shirt from the floor, and sat beside you, gently cleaning his spend from your stomach, “I just wanted to make you feel good.”
“Mission accomplished, Officer,” you joked as he finished wiping you down. You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him to you, forcing him to toss the dirty article of clothing back on the linoleum to brace himself against the mattress. “You gonna spend the night?”
“Is that what you want, Lucky?” he queried, peppering kisses along your nose and cheeks, making you giggle.
“Duh. Get under the covers with me.”
You released him so that he could follow your direction, snuffing out the candle as you scooted closer to the wall, not paying any mind to the wet spot on the sheets when he shuffled under the comforter beside you.
As soon as he was situated, you laid your head against his chest. He was quick to slide his arm under you, pulling you closer to him.
“You know, I thought about what this would be like for a long time,” he said quietly in the dark, stroking your hair.
“Was it everything you wanted?” you asked, curious. Nervous.
He kissed your head, the adoration in his voice almost palpable, “Everything and more.”
You smiled to yourself before shifting to face him, even though you couldn’t make out his features in the blackened room. “You were pretty good yourself.”
He laughed. “Happy to be of service.”
You giggled with him, laying your head back against his chest.
A quiet crept upon you, the only sounds the whipping wind outside the window and your breaths as they gradually evened out.
You were almost asleep when Chris spoke once more, “Lucky?”
“Yeah, Chris?”
“Was this a one-time thing?”
Your eyes widened at that, his tone clearly trying to sound unaffected, but there was an underlying apprehension in his words.
“Oh, don’t think for a second I’m letting you go now,” you told him.
It was lighthearted, but you were serious. You’d never been one for hookups anyway, but after everything you and Chris had been through together–after all he had done for you–you doubted you ever wanted him out of your bed again, regardless of whatever this was that transpired between you.
His strong arms wrapped around you, tugging you closer, a contentedness in his voice that you hadn’t heard since you’d arrived in this nightmarish place, “Good. Cos you were gonna be stuck with me anyway.”
You had felt so adrift until this moment–like you were lost at sea–but here, kept warm in Chris’s comforting embrace, you were held fast.
The waves could crash upon you and the storm could rage around you, but you knew now that he was your anchor.
An anchor to something good.
My silver lining.
--------------------
Masterlist | Previous | Next
#albert wesker x reader#chris redfield x reader#albert wesker#chris redfield#dead by daylight#resident evil#dbd#re#the betrayer
55 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi! I'm so glad I found your blog, especially during these very rough times for MSPECs and queer people as a whole.
I'm a bi lesbian, and I only recently came just a year ago. Before I did some googling, I had no idea what an MSPEC, Mogai or anything like that was. Actually, truth be told, I'm still learning what some terms mean and I love seeing new terms be brought to light/discovered.
However, I'm also very aware of BLERFs (Bi Lesbian Exclusionary Radical Feminists), TERFs, and MERFs (MSPEC Exclusionary Radical Feminists), as well as general bigots and bigoted queers/exclusionists. As someone who's experienced all but one of the above, I understand that it can be very uncomfortable, especially for young, closeted or confused MSPECs to feel safe, happy and accepted by a broader group of people.
Before I got tumblr, I honestly thought I was the only open bi lesbian on twitter lol. I know now that I'm not, just that our numbers are low due to the above reasons and many more that I did not name.
My biggest tip for any and all MSPECs is this:
Don't be afraid to come out. There are people who love you and accept you. As long as you aren't hurting anyone or anything, I can assure you that a lot of people, hidden or otherwise, know what you're going through and will always be willing to help out.
Before I finish the ask, I might as well as you a few things:
. If you use a flag, what one do you use to show your identity?
. Is there anything you use in particular to stump exclusionists when in a one-way debate and two-way argument (aka a regular chat with an exclusionist, assuming they're capable of rational thinking)?
. What are some pointers/tips for anyone confused about their sexuality but feel as if they sit on the MSPEC spectrum?
. What are some of the funniest encounters you've had with other MSPECs?
Because the questions are being to pile up, I'll stop now lol.
Have a great day (or night), stay hydrated, and remember to wear your seatbelt!
Thank you for the questions! I think I’ll make them their own post since this one is already quite long(if you’d like me to tag you in it let me know). I hope you also have a good day/night, stay hydrated & wear a seatbelt!
Im sorry to hear you’ve had to deal with so much backlash against your identity, you are always welcome here!
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
2012 deviantart is back baby!!!! Tagged by @squimp ^_^ LOVE YOUUUUU <3
three ships
Ok I’m kind of a weirdo now because I’m watching shows that probably loop on cable forever. I am realizing none of these are gay #LOVELOSES
1. Bones x Booth
My current ship that literally makes me sick in the head. what if we loved each other despite our flaws that make us feel unlovable…what if I want to spend my whole day arguing with you instead of being with my girlfriend…if I see you talk to another man I’ll actually blow my fucking brains out.
The image is so pixel-y because I chew on it when I’m mad
2. Giles x Jenny
I know I flip flop between him and Ethan but I have wayyyy more to say about these two outside of “TOXIC YAOI!!!!!” The whole idea of “we made it work one day, just not in this life” DRIVES ME INSANEEEEE and is such a constant in Giles’s life across all his love interests (Ethan included LOL). Also Jenny is just cool 👍🏻
3. Alex x Meredith
I’m literally the only person who pictures this. Btw. Big fan of the two most damaged people you know getting together cuz they made a marriage pact for whatever reason. I think they could work.
First ship
Ummmm I don’t remember honestly Probably my pokemon OC x someone elses pokemon OC on deviantart when I was 12. A clefairy x luxio. Hope they’re doing well 👆👆👆 sadly i have no proof of this cuz i had a burning of Alexandria momebt at age 15
Last song I listened to
Смерти Больше Нет by IC3PEAK 😳
I listen to it when I row lol.
Currently reading
I haven’t picked it up inna sec but A Million Little Pieces by James Frey for the kicks and giggles and I’m starting Beloved because I love Toni Morrison…but mostly stuff for my research paper that I finished last week like Walking mannequins by Joya Misra. I want to start Kafka on the shore this summer but i know the translation isnt the best (??) maybe it is who knows who knows.
Also comic wise I’m reading Beneath the Trees Where Nobody Sees. It’s fun I just LOVEEEEE watercolor comics, reminds me of Beasts of Burden.
Currently watching
Bones and Greys Anatomy ‼️ I havent been watching a ton of movies sadly I dont have the time ☹️ But I need to watch Tiger Cruise for my propaganda class and I did just see Monkey Man which was AWESOME.
Relationship status
In like four different lavender marriages.
Current obsessions
Mostly fitness stuff I just started playing tennis and still really into running. I’m sad cuz I definitely did something to my shoulders so I cant row rn, I LOVEEEEE rowing. Umm outside of that…idk applying to jobs and making miniverses. Heres some attached to my friends fridge
LOL the ones that fell are inna pile on the window
Currently craving
Chocolate chip peanutbutter cookie……
Favorite color
GREEN! To wear tho probably like brown or grey…
Tagging: it’s not the same if I don’t tag people….sorry….HAVE FUN.
@z4chstone @autisticsquidward @princessmo @normalwizard @mouseratz
6 notes
·
View notes
Note
I don’t mean this in a rude way, but please get off this site. I use to be a moderately popular artist for a fandom I will no longer name, but it started with complaints and unhelpful criticisms like you get and then it turned into death threats, art theft threats and other disgustingly unsavory messages. If I spoke about it publicly, people for real would dog pile and say I deserved it for not posting more art even tho I posted 5-7 time a week. It was daily that I would get messages like that for just over a year until I deleted my main and art blog. And I know someone would go “why not turn off messages” “why didn’t you leave sooner”, and it’s cause I loved showing off my art + I really held hope that I would get nice messages if I waited enough. But that was like 4 or 5 years ago. I’ve started to draw just a tiny bit again but it’s difficult cause my brain still links art/drawing with all that that happened. Even with sending you this message from a throw away is making me very afraid that someone’s going to recognize my writing and find me again. I really adore your art after seeing it and would hate to see you fall into the same trauma I had suffered.
im so sorry all of that happened to you :,( it sucks cuz the inbox & the little tags people add on ur posts r what drew me to posting here again in the first place but ofc people are gonna abuse the anon system to be weird 😭😭
i think maybe i will use this ask to say i will not be posting here indefinitely which means ill either be back in like a week or maybe never again LOL. its not like i am very active here in the first place and im still gonna be posting art. just not on tumblr
cheers!
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
semicompleted saturday
thanks @birdclowns for tagging me mwah
this is an alternate ending to the coma fic that i never finished bc i went with the other ending. and i considered adding this on as an extra chapter just for anyone who wanted it, but just couldn't commit to finishing it. i'm not the biggest fan of MCD lol
For days now, it’s felt like someone has stacked a pile of rocks on top of his chest. Each day that Carlos hasn’t woken up, twelve days and counting now, it’s another stone added. It’s hard to breathe through the pain, to even find the effort to get up and get out of the chair he’s taken vigil in from the very moment Carlos was brought into the room.
TK has been talking to Carlos for as long as he’s been in the hospital bed. He remembers, vaguely, how he heard Carlos while he was in his coma after falling into the frozen pond. He hopes that the same thing is happening for Carlos now.
“The doctors say that it might… it might be time to talk about worst-case scenarios,” TK says as he grabs Carlos’ hand. It’s limp and cold, the complete opposite of how bright his sun usually is. “You’re not getting any better, and your brain activity is low. I know… I know you wouldn’t want the machines to be the only thing keeping you alive.”
He’s been on life support since he coded on the third day, crashing twice before they managed to bring him back. The sight of his fiance intubated and connected to a machine that’s doing all of the breathing for him is something he never wanted to see.
Reaching for him, TK smooths back Carlos’ hair, carding his fingers through limp curls. “It’s okay, you know,” he whispers as if he’s suddenly sharing a secret. “You can… if it’s too painful to stay here, you can let go, baby. I won’t—I won’t be okay, not for a while, but our family will keep me from going off the deep end.”
Had it not been for Jonah, TK would readily follow Carlos into the grave. A life without Carlos, his sun, wouldn’t be a life worth living. He’s already gone through it before, six months of hell after he was stupid and walked out on him, but this is permanent. There’s no getting him back after this.
He isn't ready to take him off of life support right this second, doesn't know if he ever will be, but the papers to put Carlos under a DNR order have been signed.
The paper sign taped under his heart monitor declaring that is something he goes out of his way to avoid looking at.
“I love you so much, baby. I'll never love anyone like I loved you."
tagging: @thebumblecee @cowlos-reyes @paperstorm @safeashousespdf @original-jade @reyestrandd and anyone else who wants to do it ! ♡
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
yoooo! tagged for this awesome new game game from @depressedstressedlemonzest by the effervescent @ian-galagher @creepkinginc @mishervellous @grossmickey @milkovetti <3
What are some movie /tv quotes that you quote often?
tbh almost every scenario can call for an appropriate quote from the twilight saga
What is your favorite flower?
i love em alllllll but will always have a special spot for ageratums like look at these funky mystical guys
If you were in Avatar the Last Airbender what element would you want to bend? Earth, fire, water or air?
even tho i'm a fire sign, i've always wanted to bend water
What was your first job?
retail baybeee 🎯
What is your favorite breakfast?
i've gone through phases of like only one thing for months on end. used to be: eggos w pb in the middle, banana protein shake, oatmeal w cranberries and crushed almonds, greek yogurt w chocolate chips and honey. but! i think the fav would be pancakes with fresh fruit and different syrups (maple + a fruity one so i can alternate between bites) with a side of veggie quiches *chef's kiss*
What's a meal from childhood that you love?
i'm a vegetarian now but i miss my mom's sloppy joe's (edit: i told her this and we are gonna make vegetarian sloppy joe's next week!). also when she would surprise me with apple or cherry turnovers after i had dance practice.
What's your favorite joke to tell?
okay i just looked up jokes and i found one that i think the mootuals will enjoy:
why do cows wear bells? because their horns don't work!
and another for the nerds:
r.i.p. boiling water 😞 you will be mist 🕊️
LOL okay whatever you're getting more jokes that made me laugh
what do sprinters eat before a race? nothing. they fast. 🏃💨
how do you organize a space party? you planet.
what did the drummer name her twin daughters? anna 1, anna 2 and a 1, 2, 3,4 🥁
why did the scarecrow win an award? because he was outstanding in his field.
here's one for our safari pal willow:
why can't you trust the king of the jungle? because he's always lion 😩
What's your favorite animal to see at the zoo?
orangutans!!!!!! penguins!!!!!!! manatees!!!!!!! tigers!!!!! giraffes!!!! elephants!!!!
What's your go to quick meal to cook/make at home?
🗣️ peanut butter sandwich
What's your go to meal to cook someone to impress them?
i don't cook much, but when i do, it's not to impress, but to nourish 💪
What's something you want to do better?
being more active! doing things that i keep saying i want to do!
If you're working do you like your job?
just started a new job and my first day on the floor is tomorrow so i hope so!
Do you collect anything? What?
helllll yeahzzz. well i don't like. actively seek things out, but when i see em and bring em home i'm like ah yes and put them in the pile w the others. so i think that's a collection. so: books, rocks, crystals, sea shells, stuffies, art supplies, plants. aka things that nourish and comfort the soul
If you were trapped in a kids tv show, what show would you be okay with being trapped in?
spongebob would be fun i think, as long as i am also a sea creature
An adults tv show?
the white lotus. fuck it LOL. give me absolutely eerie and unsettling drama in the most beautiful places on earth
What kind of job did you want as a child?
vet, fashion designer, chef
Do you follow any sports? What team do you root for?
no sir i do not
If you could be any animal what would you be and why?
clownfish would be vibes. anemone friend
If you could be any mythological creature what would you be and why?
dragon i wanna be big and powerful and also surrounded by crystals
What's the most obscure thing you've had to google for a fanfic you were writing/reading?
axe throwing places in chicagoland LOL
What Milkovich do you identify with most?
mickey
Which one are you actually like the most?
mandy
What Gallagher do you identify with most?
ian
Which one are you actually like the most?
lip
tagging @heymrspatel @grumpymickmilk @pinkmatter-mp3 @messedwithmandy @vintagelacerosette if ya wanna!
14 notes
·
View notes
Note
*drops my pile of questions like a stack of heavy books* I decided to ask a little of everything:
3. Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic
4. Where do you find inspiration for new ideas?
7. How do you choose which POV to write from?
12. How does receiving or not receiving feedback/support impact you?
13. What’s a common writing tip that you almost always follow?
17. What do you do when writing becomes difficult? (maybe a lack of inspiration or writers block)
18. Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process? How do you come up with titles?
19. What is the most-used tag on your ao3?
20. Have you noticed any patterns in your fics? Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc?
22. Are there certain types of writing you won’t do? (style, pov, genre, tropes, etc)
23. Best writing advice for other writers?
24. Worst writing advice anyone ever gave you?
27. What is your most and least favorite part of writing?
29. What’s your revision or editing process like?
31. Do you start with the characters or the plot when writing?
33. Do you want to be published some day?
34. Five years from now, where do you see yourself as a writer?
38. Would you ever write commissions?
39. Share a snippet from a WIP.
40. If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?
41. Do you tend to reread fics or are you a one-and-done kind of person?
46. How would you describe your style? (Character/emotion/action-driven, etc)
47. How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?
48. What do you look for in a beta?
52. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?
54. What’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?
55. Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones?
56. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?
57. Do you prefer editing as you write, or waiting until it’s finished?
58. What part of the writing process do you enjoy the most? (Brainstorming, outlining, writing, editing, etc)
60. Have you had a writer you admire comment on your fic? What was that like?
62. Thoughts on cliffhangers?
65. Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project
67. Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas?
68. What, if anything, do you do for inspiration?
70. When asked, are you embarrassed or enthusiastic to tell people that you write?
71. When it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, ect.?
72. What order do you write in? front of book to back? chronological? favorite scenes first? something else?
73. What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?
Okay so I’m not even gonna number these cuz this is a lot 😭.
My creative process is like an on and off switch. Due to ADHD I’ll have an idea for a long time decide to map the story out then procrastinate…for a very long time
TBH I get inspired by other people’s fanart and fanfics.
Now pls don't copy your Auntie Caspian over here but I really just do what ever POV I want to do and feel in the moment if I want to change it I just go back and write it all over again if it's not too late.
If I do receive feed back I feel great! I really enjoy seeing comments and stuff and when I don't I feel fine but kinda overlooked if I'm being honest.
Prep the storyline and lore before anything. If you have all that sorted out you'll be given the liberty to choose what you want in the story or not.
When I have block I just make fanart or make the chapters in my head until I make myself so excited that I want to write again.
Really depends right now I'm doing a DK Fam AU/what if series but IDK what to call it except that (if ya'll have any suggestions pls DM me)
I only have one fic on AO3 so it would be tangled and tts characters lol
One thing that I have noticed( other than always finding a way to add Hispanic/Filipino culture in my fics) is that I tend to be very descriptive about surroundings and how the character feels.
Um I'm fairly new so idk about a lot of genres but all I know right now is that I will never make a story where the main character or any characters that have made it to the end to have a bad ending,if that makes sense. Like I want them to be happy after all the trauma I put them through.
Best advice: to plan things out and to have a draft
Worst advice: that I can't wing it. I do think planning is important but sometimes the best ideas come last minute.
Favorite part of writing: that I can put myself in the characters and what they go through and that I can use it as therapy for myself.
Least favorite: actually writing XD jk but kind of not lol. I also don't like how long editing can be but it's more fun when you can do it with a friend/beta reader yk?
It's long I can tell you that. If I don't have block editing is probably whats taking the longest.
I start with the characters and as I find out who the characters are then I make the plot as I see fit for them and how it can make them stronger and better.
YES ABSOLUTELY!!! I hav this OG story I'm working on and I really want it to be published some day and hopefully that day will be reality!
That I have improved and that I have put a few chapters out.
Depends on what they ask for.
Okay so a small thing I'm doing for my 'What if series' for tts is that I'm making Andrew a good guy and prince of Saporia. and I am also doing a lot of lore for that and giving him an angsty back story.
I'd like to see some Cass and Andrew fanart or some art of the DK cousins which would be Eugene,Cass,Varian and my two OCs Elana and Caspian.
Yah I would re-read fics I haven't because I have a lot to read but I would.
Angsty and wholesome. I wanna try to add a smidge of dark romance but I'm not that good at it so I might practice on that before I publish anything lol.
It's not too long but it can be painful. (if yk yk)
I like them to be honest but not mean when it comes to constructive criticism. and if you have any ideas for the plot or story I honestly would like to hear them out!
YES!!!! I like to respond and see what y'all think. I haven't gotten many but I do like to respond.
How I put a piece of myself in my characters.
It goes back and forth between my OCs and Cass from tts.
How detailed I can be.
I wait until I finish the chapter then I edit.
The lore planning.
She haven't commented ( at least i don't think she has) on a fic but they've helped me brain storm. And it felt nice and cool that I can call her a friend.
If I'm making a second book then yah I like cliffhangers,BUT THEY ARE SO PAINFUL AT THE SAME ASS TIME!!!!
Cass and Andrew scenes,Saporian lore,and Andrew's background. And ofc Erin and Hector moments.
I don't mind prompts.
Look at other people's work.
I'm very enthusiastic,and most of the time others say they can tell lol.
Honestly I don't think I've come across this problem the only thing I have trouble is finding the right words to put the scenes is play.
I write the scenes I'm excited for on paper and then write start to finish on my lap top.
What I think makes me stand out are the characters I create. All of them have either a part of me or have gone through the things I have or are modeled after people in my life.
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
New Things: Traditions, Hopes & Fears
Book: Wake the Dead
Pairing: Eli Sipes x F!MC (Zoe Rivera)
Rating: Teen
Category: Fluff with a side of angst
Summary: A fall festival is being held for the children of Olympus. The joyous day awakens memories, feelings, hopes, and fears for Zoe & Eli.
Words: 1800
A/N: This was my first WTD ask, so I hope I did it justice. The ask was for: "carving pumpkins together and Person A has to doctor Person B who cut themselves." Since I don’t know if Halloween would be celebrated in their world, I decided to make it a fall/autumn festival with traditions we associate with Halloween. I took a segment of Troy and Angel costuming the children out for brevity’s sake, and now I’m thinking that should be a stand-alone. Lol
Participating in @choicesmonthlychallenge – It could fall into Flufftober – blushing, holding hands, as well as Falltober pumpkin and festival – should I let Dani pick? 😊
Also participating in @choicesficwriterscreations Naughty & Nice – Festival
Again, I’m tagging my Perma list – If you don’t wish to be tagged in Wake the Dead fics, please let me know and I’ll create an OH list.
CHARACTERS BELONG TO PIXELBERRY STUDIOS.
Zoe was attempting something unusual today… she was going to sleep in. But it didn’t take long before she was reminded why she never did… someone or something inevitably woke her. It wasn’t easy being the leader of a new colony. But today’s “offenders” were rather unique and far too precious for her to be cross with. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she made her way to the window, welcoming the bright sunshine that filled her room as she pushed the curtains to the side. Now, she could take a better listen.
“And then… and then…,” an excited little boy panted. “I heard we’re going to have cupcakes!”
“What are cupcakes?” another child asked.
“I don’t know,” May replied, “but Troy found a recipe in a book about the old world, so you know they’re going to be good.”
Zoe covered her mouth and giggled. May was right. She had the delicious confection in the past, and the kids were in for a real treat. She slipped into her clothes with a hopeful heart. Today’s autumn festival was part of her plan to bring more normalcy to the children of Olympus. Something to look forward to and a way to foster new traditions for all. If those excited little voices were any indication, the day was off to a good start.
The others were already at the field where the afternoon activities were taking place, and she headed there to see how she could help.
“You can put them on the picnic tables,” Shannon said, motioning to a pile of pumpkins. “The kids should be here any moment now.”
“Already!” Zoe gasped. “How late did I sleep?”
“Not late enough,” a gruff voice bellowed. “You aren’t getting enough rest.”
She turned to Eli with a sweet smile. Lately, worrying about her seemed to be his favorite pastime, and she was determined to end it.
“I’m fine,” she insisted, “but since you’re here, why don’t you help me with the pumpkins?”
The dramatic roll of his eyes wasn’t lost on her, and she shrugged in response.
“What? Don’t want my company?”
“You know that’s not it,” he quipped.
“Then what is it? I thought you liked the idea of the festival?”
“I do. I just don’t see the point of this,” he said, tossing a giant pumpkin her way.
“Eli, we’ve discussed this. The seeds will be removed in advance, so we’re still making good use of the pumpkins. And our food supply is stacked full, and we can afford to spare them.”
“Mmhh,” he grumbled.
“Don’t you think bringing the children happiness and starting a new tradition for everyone trying to settle into their new home is worth it?”
“Perhaps,” he acquiesced.
After placing the last pumpkins on the table, Eli sat down and stared into the distance. Most would have thought Eli was just being Eli, but Zoe knew better, and something was amiss. Claiming the spot at his side, she tapped his shoulder softly.
“Did you do things like this as a child?” she asked.
“Sure, before the world turned upside down. My dad used to get the biggest pumpkin he could find. My brother was so little then he couldn’t do the carving. So we’d draw our designs on each side. Then my dad would carve David’s design and help me carve mine.”
Zoe brushed her hand along his forearm when she saw the wistful smile on his face. Turning to her, that smile brightened just a bit. Lowering his eyes, he gently caressed her knee, but quickly retreated before continuing.
“My mom always worried about the candles we put inside. But my dad insisted we’d be fine if we stayed in the room while they were lit. And they looked so beautiful that, in the end, she didn't care.”
“That sounds lovely,” she whispered. “What beautiful memories to have.”
“Yeah,” he smiled, a genuine grin. “But, after things went bad, we couldn’t risk wasting food, so… that tradition went away… along with so many others.”
Zoe placed her hand atop his, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“So, it makes sense that you’re concerned about doing this. But you know we wouldn’t allow this if doing so would cause us any harm.”
“I know,” he squeezed her hand back, “but old habits….”
“It takes time,” she smiled.
Zoe turned around as she heard commotion nearing. A dozen wayward, with May leading the charge, were heading their way.
“It looks like it’s showtime!” She laughed, “Are you ready to get carving?”
“Me?” he asked incredulously.
“No, the other person I’m talking to! Of course you!”
“I don’t know, I haven’t done this in two decades. I’m not sure if I remember how.”
“Well, fun wasn’t really a priority at The Tower. So my experience is zero, and I’m carving. So get your knife out and get ready to make magic, buster!”
“Zoe, I…”
“It wasn’t a request. You're quite skilled with a knife, Eli! I’ve seen that first hand.”
“Yeah, if I have to slice up a zombie, but not carving pumpkins!”
“Transferable skills!” she said with a clap of her hands, “Now get moving!”
He stood up and glared down at her with a playful smirk on his face.
“You’re impossible. You know that?”
“Hmm,” she raised a teasing eyebrow, “do you prefer it when I’m easy?”
His cheeks tinged the slightest hue pink, and Zoe felt victorious. She made the Eli Sipes blush. A day to live in infamy.
“Again, you’re impossible.”
“Just get to work,” she winked.
The afternoon was filled with the delightful sounds of children’s laughter. Although, it wasn’t easy to tell who was having the most fun because the grownups were awfully happy, too. Zoe intended to sit back after each child was paired up with an adult, but May would not leave her side. So Zoe joined her and Feather in carving her pumpkin.
“This is a wonderful thing,” Feather spoke. “Teaching children the skills necessary to survive is essential, but they also need days to feel like children. To know they’re cared for and experience joy.”
Zoe nodded, “I’m just glad Olympus can provide that for them.”
“We can because you’re our leader. You understand its importance and make it happen. Why do you think May is so attached to you? The other children as well? They know they matter and are cared for, and that’s one of the greatest gifts we can give them.”
Placing her arm around the older man’s shoulder, Zoe held him close.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I want them to know they have a home. No matter what.”
“And they do,” Feather smiled. “You, and your friends, you see to that.”
A table away, Eli was silently watching the exchange. Paired with little Tommy rattling about the puppy design on his pumpkin, he struggled to stay present. He didn’t have contact with many people since the world stopped. Still, he knew how rare Zoe Rivera was. A skilled fighter who was fearless in battle, and a determined, loyal leader. Yet she had a heart so soft and kind, even a traumatized child safe at her side. She made people feel loved. And he was coming to understand that she made him want to live, not merely survive.
May whispered something in her ear, and Zoe’s head flung back in delight. He wasn’t sure if it was the way the sun glistened off her hair or reflected the specs of gold in her eyes or if it was her unbridled joy, but he was certain he’d never seen her look more beautiful before. Beautiful… inside and out. He was doing his best to pay attention to Tommy, but then….
“OWWW!”
“Eli!” Zoe rushed to his side in an instant. “What happened?”
“I cut my hand,” he grimaced, unsure the pain or embarrassment was hurting him more.
Shannon rushed and kneeled by Zoe’s side, “I have the first aid kit. Let me take a look at that….”
“No!” Zoe insisted, “I’ll do it.”
Tommy stood to the side, nonchalantly licking the icing off a cupcake as he watched. “I told you that you were doing it wrong,” the little boy scolded.
Eli shot a silencing look, then turned to Zoe anticipating her sarcastic reply, but it never came. Barely wincing, he watched as she tended to his wound. He had endured much worse, and right now, his biggest concern was the abject fear registered on Zoe’s face.
“Zo,” he whispered, gently lifting her chin to face him. “It’s just a little cut. I’m OK.”
“It’s deep,” she sputtered. “And you’re bleeding! And it could become infected… if… if….”
“If we don’t take care of it,” he whispered. “But you are, and I’m fine.”
She looked up, her brow creased with worry, then returned to her task. He kept quiet, knowing it would be best to allow her to finish before saying any more. But as she wrapped the last piece of gauze around his wound, he demanded her attention again.
“Now, will you talk to me?”
Well aware of how much she overreacted, Zoe nervously diverted her eyes.
“Oh, now, you’re Mr. Talkative?” she chuckled.
“I’m OK, Zoe,” he whispered.
“I know,” she muttered, biting her lower lip as tears formed in her eyes. “But last time, you weren’t, and I… I almost lost you… I couldn’t help you, and….”
“But you did help me. You risked your life to get the antidote, and I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t. And you helped me now,” he gently touched her knee with a hint of a smile. “I understand how scary this is, but I’m OK.”
He watched her shoulders drop as the tension left her body, and smiles of relief were on both of their faces.
“I know you are,” she said, wiping a tear with her sleeve. “Of course, now I also know that you can’t carve a pumpkin for shit.”
“What?” Eli snapped.
“I mean, look at you. You can mutilate a zombie without chipping a nail, but one little pumpkin and… how did you manage to cut yourself anyway?”
Eli’s eyes shot open. He was not about to admit the truth, but a good excuse was impossible to find.
“I uh… uh… just….”
“He was looking at the pretty lady?” Tommy blurted. Just loud enough to garner attention.
“Oh?” Zoe crossed her arms in front of her chest with a raised brow. “And who might this pretty lady be?”
“Duh! It was y….” Tommy’s words were muzzled when Eli’s good hand covered his mouth.
“Silencing the child,” Zoe smirked. “So, do you have anything to add?”
“Yeah,” Eli smirked, “Just finish carving Tommy’s pumpkin, will you?”
“Mmm hmm. We’re talking about this later,” she grinned.
“Oh, no, we’re not.”
“We’ll see,” she smiled. “But Tommy, I’m here to save your pumpkin.”
_____
A/N 2: My goal here was to show the desire to establish a true sense of belonging and community in Olympus, especially for its youngest residents. I am not sure exactly when this would have taken place, as any HC is really in its infancy.
I also wanted to show some of the complex feelings Eli and Zoe are experiencing. They are both different in many ways, and the same in so many others. She has only known the world as a dangerous place, and that's almost all he has known. They have learned to be brave because they had no choice, and they rose to the occasion. But, per canon, Eli shut off the soft side as his survival mechanism; in my head, Zoe seeks the soft side for hers. Neither expected to live a long life, and while they didn't like it, they were at peace, but now because of Olympus and each other, everything has changed. So, yes, Zoe is a fearless fighter, she is a strong leader who will do what it takes to protect those she cares for... but she will also catch herself falling apart when Eli sustains a simple injury. In this world, people sustain trauma after trauma without the opportunity to process or heal, it's going to come out someplace.
Thanks for coming to my Ted talk. :)
Permatags: @a-crepusculo @aishwarya26 @animesuck3r @annfg8 @annoyingmillenialnewbie @bex-la-get @binny1985 @bluebelle08 @bluerosesbloom @cariantha @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @danijimenezv @different4strawberry @differenttyphoonwerewolf @doriopenheart @fayeswiftie @forallthatitsworth @genevievemd @inlocusmads @jamespotterthefirst @jennieausten @kingliam2019 @liaromancewriter @lilypills @lucy-268 @mainstreetreader @mysticalgalaxysstuff @ofmischiefandmedicine @onikalover @openheartforeverinmyheart @peonierose @peonyblossom @potionsprefect @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @schnitzelbutterfingers @secretaryunpaid @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @toadfrog26 @trappedinfanfiction @uneravine @youlookappropriate @zahrachoices @jerzwriter-reblogs-asks @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics
#choice fanfic#wake the dead#eli sipes#eli sipes x f!mc#playchoices fanfic#choices fic writers creations#cfwc fics of the week#choices monthly challenge#cfwc naughty & nice#playchoices
29 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi Sonia, I know you're on a break rn but I just wanted to stop by and let you know you're wonderful. You are one of the only people in the tarlos fandom who had been consistently nice to a tiny blog like me. (Even tho we don't really talk lol) I'm usually quite afraid to post my writing (bc there is so much talent in this fandom, I tend to get lost in it and then get discouraged with the lack of engagement) but you make me feel good and a little more confident when I read your tags on my posts from ages ago. Makes me think abt posting my writing again.
Anyway sorry to ramble I just wanted to say thank you for being so sweet to someone like me. It means the world and I just wanted you to know :) I hope you have a wonderful day :)
Hi Brooke (@maybe-theres-hope), I hope you're doing well! Thank you for your kind words; they really mean a lot. 💕
Tiny blog? Pish posh! I know fandom generally operates on this implicit hierarchy where certain blogs are considered "big blogs," but I personally don't see it that way. We are all here shouting about the same show and loving the same characters, making us peers in this community. The LS fandom has an abundance of talent when it comes to content creation (gif sets, stories, artwork, video edits) and that pile of riches includes you and your work. I'm grateful we share this fandom space and that you chose to bless us with your writing.
Just in case some folks haven't had the joy of discovering your stories yet, I want to take this opportunity to share three of my favorites:
Something To Do-- appropriate since we are entering fiancé era this season lol. Loved this plot executed in the 5+1 format.
You Like My Costume?-- a different avenue to give us Firefighter!Carlos lol, and it was so. much. fun.
Of Will and Wildflowers--- when you mentioned my tags on previous posts, I knew you meant this fic because it is (imo) one of the best AUs in this fandom and I recall having zero chill every time you posted 😂. I mean??? Tarlos + Bridgerton-inspired universe? Exceptional, and as I sit here reflecting on it, all I can think about is how the yearning in this fic was top-tier. It is underrated, and I take that personally, tbh. If you were to consider a follow-up, I would be first in line to read it!
If you feel inspired this upcoming season (no pressure), I hope you resume sharing stories with us again so I can continue adding to my list of favs! (True Blood AU when 👀?? Yes, I still think about this one. I did not forget!)
Thanks again for your note, and happy LS Season 4 Premiere Day! 😊
#asks#sonia answers#911 lone star#tarlos fic recs#tarlos au#brooke tag ✍️✨#maybe-theres-hope#that thing you queue
9 notes
·
View notes
Note
How do you think characters (like Ei, Venti, Kokomi) would react to Lumine/Miko being in a relationship? Eventually getting married and having children (I hc Lumine as the one carrying the pregnancy, idk I just can't see Miko pregnant lmao). I could see (my) Lumine making Venti one of their childrens' godfather, Venti fits the role so well in my mind lol. I don't know who Miko would like to choose, I don't get the feeling she's close to many people, and she was kinda abandoned by Ei. Thoughts?
Miko and Lumine getting married + children reaction
I can't picture Miko pregnant either, it just seems wrong to me. Lumine would be the one to get pregnant and carry there child.
I think, on some level, Ei is in love with Miko and would be hurt to hear that she is getting married. But at the same time, she would be happy for her to live her life and move on. She would be the distant auntie who shows up for important events.
I could see Venti stepping up and being a fantastic godfather. Of course, he would be the third person to hold his godchild after Miko and Lumine. He would always show up to their home with gifts and come to see their child just because he missed them.
I don't think Miko would have anyone she would 100% trust to become a god parent of her child, so it would just be Venti
Kokomi would be ecstatic for the two of them, and she would be front row at the wedding. Then, after Lumine gave birth, she would visit once the chaos had settled down with baby gifts.
Klee would ask to be the flower girl, and how could they say no? However, someone will need to check the flower basket just before the ceremony because she would slip a bomb in the basket.
Layla would be the favorite auntie who watches the little one when the two need a break. Layla and their child always nap on the floor together, curled up in a pile of blankets.
Ayaka and Ayato would go to the wedding, and send gift baskets for each child they have. The two are so busy that they don't visit often, but they adore there children
I hope you enjoy!
Click Here To Join My Tag List
@0-kuki-0 @rainbowleo @okadahimeko @cyberpandas-blog @k1tty-c0spl4ys @ashzcookie @shdwwlkrsblog @coldasvenus-s @duhsies @x1a0sluver @cassiopeia-hashima @uchihaeirin @naughtshade @le0needd @aesthetic-wannabe-simp @nico707 @imma-too-many-fandoms @starlettesworld
#Genshin impact#Genshin impact imagine#Genshin impact headcanons#Lumine#Lumine imagine#Lumine headcanons#Yae miko#yae miko imagine#yae miko headcanons#-Rosesheadcanons-
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ok guys, step aside, we want a review for our half-hiatus/half-hyperactive year.
I posted 935 times in 2022
472 posts created (50%)
463 posts reblogged (50%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@sharpenurdamnknife
@brokenblondeprincess
@amourpoetique
@ayakoito
@xseen2muchx
I tagged 926 of my posts in 2022
Only 1% of my posts had no tags
#ooc: it's art again - 98 posts
#hc:skyler - 61 posts
#answer:skyler - 58 posts
#meme - 58 posts
#answer:ooc - 54 posts
#fc:skyler - 42 posts
#skyler:piper - 32 posts
#95180:why won't you die? - 27 posts
#skyler&piper // you should go and find someone — i hope that you don't find no one but me - 27 posts
#rp stuff - 23 posts
Longest Tag: 129 characters
#ian&althea // still find my fathers shrapnel buried beneath my skin but i’ve begun to heal in all the places your hands have been
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
*it's happening everybody stay calm gif*
sooo I’m starting a new job tomorrow; I’m a bit stressed and excited, and I might not be around as much as I’d like. I’m gonna need some time to get adjusted and them I’ll be able to focus on all the fun tumblr stuff again lol
such a chaotic and stressful month ugh but it’s gonna be better now. wish me luck and be patient, thank you, love you, etc.
12 notes - Posted June 30, 2022
#4
definitely not my year but we’re not giving up without a fight anyway. feels like problems and sad news keep piling up, so i’m just tired, to say the least. if you want to plot or talk i’m more or less active on discord, and (again) i should be back soonish.
13 notes - Posted February 10, 2022
#3
@angelsgonnahell
"No, that’s not how we do it in this household, Effy. People come to give money back – we say thank you, take the money, close the door. People ask for money – we say fuck you and close the door. Why didn’t you tell that guy to fuck off?”
16 notes - Posted May 17, 2022
#2
“Fuck no, you shouldn’t see the other one. He looked much better after he’d kicked my ass and therefore, we’ll scratch him from my story.” Skyler smiled bitterly. He could joke about it and laugh that bruise off, but his ego suffered more than his ribcage did. Would he learn anything from that and stop starting such unnecessary fights? Of course not. The lesson would be gone even before his bruises had a chance to heal.
16 notes - Posted February 24, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
My idea here is he wants to use your character and plant some device/steal something he needs, but doesn’t necessarily have to be this kind of plot.
He almost jumped at the sound of her voice. Sudden noises in the middle of the night were his least favorite – one could never prepare for that inevitable mini heart attack. With a quiet, bored sigh, Skyler turned around, smiling a little apologetically. “Sorry I woke you up. Everythin’s under control. I’m just lookin’ for-... Uh, never mind, go back to sleep.”
28 notes - Posted April 11, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
7 notes
·
View notes
Note
LAST ONE I PROMISE IM SORRY FOR SPAMMING BUT texts for how the teamies would react thinking you're glaring at them from across a crowded room but really you're just not wearing your contacts/glasses and are trying to figure out where your goddamn boyfriend is
anyways please please please take your time with these requests!! i hope you can tell you're one of my favourite writers on here for both your writing style and your characterizations of the idols you write for, especially the teamies! with my current &team brainrot there are very few authors who write for them casually and seeing your user in the tags (i originally know you from your enha fics LOL) made my heart LEAP. i feel like the way you subtly write each of their dominant personality traits and senses of humour without making them 'blank slate' characters is a genuine talent that makes your work so enjoyable! i literally always wait for your updates and you've got me kicking my feet round the homies every time you post,,, i love you so much☹️🫶🏽
my requests are piling up and I still haven’t answered ur previous ones but OH MY GOD I couldn’t help but answer this ask right away bc 😭😭😭😭🫶🫶🫶 this actually made me twirl around and kick my feet this is the sweetest thing anyone has said to me on this site. the idea that I could be one of someone’s favorite writers is INSANEEE and it makes me so happy. thank you for your sweet message it literally made my day 💗🙌 also you are so well written and your compliments were so complex I was floored omg.
also I will of course still do ur request and link this ask in a separate post <3
side note do u wanna send an emoji and be an anon bc I can just tell we’d be friends…. the way u type is just like me fr
ok bye bye ty again!
1 note
·
View note
Text
To Ruined Friendships
Fandom: Westworld
Pairing: Logan Delos x Reader
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; spicy language, alcohol consumption, heavy smoochin
Author's Note: This entire thing was inspired by a dream I had about one black hat cowboy who cannot for the life of him consume a drink without looking like he's going to inhale it. I tried to work on my other WIPs for an entirely different fandom, but my brain refused to focus on anyone other than Logan Delos. I don't have the energy to create a sideblog for this, so any Logan fans who happen to find this from the tags, please don't judge me for the other fandom(s) I'm in. I already know, lol.
Word Count/Reading Time: +/- 2600 words (10 minutes reading)
hell if I know who to tag for this...if I ever write more and you want to get an update, leave a comment, I guess?: @the-blind-assassin-12 @ao719 @the-soot-sprite possibly @ofpixelsandscribbles @burnsoslow
Another night rubbing shoulders with the elite in a penthouse, and all you want to do is retreat into one of the half dozen empty rooms to rest your feet. Beauty always has a price, and tonight your feet were being sacrificed to the stiletto gods in the name of fashion. As a waiter weaves between guests, you deftly trade the empty crystal flute in your hand for a fresh one off their tray, the slim glass chilling your fingertips.
A tiny, imperceptible sigh slips past your lips as you look out at the wall of windows, city skyline twinkling in the distance. Glancing through the crowd, you try to find a familiar face of one of your girlfriends, when you feel someone’s fingers on your back, ghosting over the ink at the base of your spine. Over your shoulder, a warm, though somewhat world-weary voice makes your body tingle. “Hey gorgeous, I was wondering if I’d see you here tonight.”
You know he’s grinning before you even turn your head; a sly smile spreads across your painted lips when you see you were right, and you lean in to press your cheek to Logan’s in greeting. His beard tickles your face, and the movement is small, but you feel him pull you closer to him, pressing his fingertips into your smooth skin. “You know me,” you reply, gently squeezing his bicep for balance, noses nearly touching as you both move to kiss the other cheek. “Any excuse to squander part of my father’s fortune on a party dress.”
His cheek twitches up as he grins wider, and once more, the grit in his voice makes you want to find a dark corner and do unspeakable things with him. “Only you could make a napkin’s worth of fabric look like couture,” he teases, stepping back to admire your outfit. “I own pocket squares larger than what you’ve got on!” His gaze lowers appreciatively, taking you in, before settling at your feet. You shift your weight from one hip to the other; tilting your head back to take a sip of champagne, you’re surprised to see his dark eyes on you as you swallow and lower the glass. There’s a hint of something there, the way the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Been here long? Why don’t we find somewhere quiet to catch up? You can let your hair down, along with… anything else, to get comfortable.” Were it not for the playful expression in his eyes, his proposition would warrant throwing the remainder of your drink directly into his exquisite face.
But you know Logan. You’ve known him too long for the invitation to be anything but amicable, much to your dismay. You’re well aware of the caliber of women he’s taken to the bedroom, and while you consider yourself attractive enough for the circles you keep, there’s no way he would ever see you as more than just a family friend. Knowing that doesn’t keep you from stroking his ego and taunting him at every opportunity, though. “My hair’s already down,” you tease, grinning as you roll your eyes at him.
“You know what I mean,” he replies, brushing your tresses over one shoulder. His thumb lingers on the strip of silk there, slipping between the material to rest on your skin, before pulling away. “We’ve known each other for years now, you’d think there would’ve been one night of indecency.” Before you’re able to respond, he glances up, noticing one of the other guests. “To be continued,” he says, raising his brows to you. He’s already begun to walk away.
“As always,” you reply, raising your glass to him.
-
You catch his eye more than a few times as you both make the rounds, catching up with friends and being introduced to new acquaintances vying for a way into social circles and business ventures. He winks at you before throwing back a drink, appearing as if he’d take a bite out of the glass to get every last drop of liquid from it. You nod as you pass by him while he converses with another guest, your arm linked with a friend’s as you walk off to powder your noses. You even catch him looking at you from across the room like he wants to ask you something, but the moment disappears when he pulls his phone from his pocket to take a call.
The evening goes on much longer than you anticipated. Even with windows of interesting conversation to pass the time, you begin to grow weary of the company, drowning out a discussion around you while you stake a claim on one of the pristine white couches. Your legs are crossed in front of you, one foot dangling in the air, while the one closer to the floor looks like it’s about to snap away from the rest of your leg. You’re balancing the weight on a sliver of one side of the heels, and you gaze out at the outdoor pool, wishing you could sit by the edge and dip your feet in the cool, chlorinated water.
Scanning through the guests once more, you notice Logan at the bar. He’s in the middle of a conversation with two gentlemen, but he catches your eye, glancing over long enough to notice your legs again. He flicks his eyes upwards to the rooms, tilting his head at an angle in silent question. You scoff and shake your head, blinking slowly to dismiss his invitation, and give up your position on the couch to go to look for the bathroom. He simply smiles as you cross the room, before returning to the conversation at the bar.
-
You’re outside on one of the balconies, forearms resting on the brushed steel railing as you lean against metal and glass, absentmindedly staring out at the city. The cool night air feels refreshing against your skin, now warm and flushed from too much champagne and not enough food; there’s never enough food at these things, and you would sell your soul for a plate of loaded nachos or even a tiny slider. Behind you, there’s a click and a hiss from the plate glass door opening. Jovial music and conversation from inside filters through the temporary break, and you sigh to yourself in preparation of putting on your party face to make idle conversation.
“That is one hell of a view.” An all too familiar voice fills the air after the door hisses shut. Logan.
You respond without turning around to acknowledge him. “Your family sure knows how to pick a party venue, I’ll give you that.”
“We do, but that’s not the view I was talking about.”
Body warming at his suggestive tone, you turn around to see Logan’s eyes fixed on your backside, unashamed of his blatant ogling. There’s a glass tumbler in his hand, with barely a sip’s worth of what looks like whiskey in it. “There you go again, getting a girl’s hopes up,” you tease, fidgeting with your hair.
“You know you’re fucking gorgeous, especially in that dress tonight.” His voice travels as he walks over to a darker part of the balcony, swirling the remnants of his drink.
Emboldened by the alcohol still coursing through your system, you play along, walking slowly towards him. “Let me guess, next you’re going to tell me it would look even better in a pile next to your bed.” You roll your eyes at him, but your heart begins to race at the idea.
He grins warmly at you, a tendril of hair knocking loose when he tilts his head and shrugs. You want to reach forward and smooth it back in place, and run your fingers against the side of his scalp. His hair’s longer than it was before; he’s been away at the park for a longer visit this time around. His unnervingly dark eyes are practically black in the shadows, eyeing you like prey. Extending a hand towards you, he reaches for the strap on your shoulder again as if to adjust it, but instead he lifts it and lets it fall off the slope of your skin, staring at the unblemished swath of flesh before him. You feel the material fall until it rests in the crook of your elbow, thankful to be holding up a glass to keep the silk from falling away any further off your body. “A dress like this? I’d have the decency to hang it up first.” He tugs at the fabric again, pulling it up over your shoulder to return your modesty.
“Keep saying shit like that, and one of these days I might believe you.”
“Should I keep talking then?” He chuckles.
You exhale, shaking your head with disbelief. He takes another step away from where you can be seen, and you follow him. “I’m not drunk enough to take you seriously,” you scoff, looking just beyond his gaze.
Logan reaches forward again, fingers landing on the base of your glass, and he pushes it up towards your mouth. “Then by all means, take another sip,” he grins.
“Bullshit,” you utter through a nervous smile, though you don’t stop yourself from tipping the edge of the flute to your lips and tilting your head up, downing half the contents in one gulp.
“Fuck it,” he whispers.
You swallow, and effervescent bubbles tickle the length of your throat so much that it takes you a second to register feeling Logan’s lips at the juncture of your jawline and earlobe. The way his beard brushes against you as you pull the glass away from your lips makes you lose your grip, and the flute falls to the ground, shattering near your feet. You gasp with surprise, unsure if it’s from the shock of dropping the glass or from the fact that Logan fucking Delos just kissed you.
In one swift movement, Logan wraps his unencumbered hand around your waist to pivot you away from the broken glass. His drink-laden hand blindly stretches out to set the glass on the thin metal railing, and he kisses you properly this time, impossibly soft lips on your open mouth and both of his hands are on your waist. He tastes sweet, smokey and woody from the whiskey, setting your lips on fire as he kisses you. Your hands fly up to his shoulders, gripping at his suit jacket as he leads you both towards an exterior wall. The shock of the cool wall against your exposed back makes you gasp again, and you push Logan away. “What’re you doing?” Your head is swimming, blood pulsing from the alcohol and the rush of emotions as you search Logan’s eyes for an answer.
“Might be ending our friendship,” he laughs wryly. His eyes land on your lips, before looking up to meet your gaze. “Want me to stop?”
The look in his eyes is intense; two black pools stare into you, daring you to continue. You tug the lapels of his jacket, pulling him close as your pelvis tilts forward to meet his. “Finish what you start,” you whisper, Cheshire-grin giving away your desire. He kisses you again, grabbing hold of the back of your thighs as he lifts you. You spread your legs, wrapping them around his waist as he presses you up against the wall, the pair of you kissing each other like it’s your last night on earth. There’s an urgency in your actions; if there’s a moment of hesitation from either of you, the spell will break, so you ignore the burning in your lungs to kiss him again. When you feel how hard he is pressed up against you, you tilt your head back and let your eyes flutter closed. He takes it as an opportunity to swirl his tongue against your neck, and you think about feeling his tongue elsewhere on your body.
Your back presses against the wall even more, causing you to wrap your legs around his waist tighter, pinning you in place. As you utter curses of pleasure into the night air, your feet feel relief for the first time all night, weightless as you destroy any propriety that existed with Logan Delos.
-
You can feel the sun against your eyelids, and the soft sounds of someone typing away at a keyboard. Between the dull ache at the base of your skull and your throbbing temples, you smack your lips together a few times, grimacing at the dryness in your mouth. You turn your face into what you think is a pillow, but determine to be a fleece blanket due to its soft yet formless design. There’s a faint aroma of coffee in the air, and you hope your roommate left some in the carafe. “Dear god, don’t let me drink that much ever again,” you groan, voice strained and scratchy from dehydration. “I made a complete ass of myself in front of Logan.” A minute passes without your roommate’s usual prodding; all you hear is typing now and then. “How’d we get home?”
You’re met with more silence, but your level of irritation is nothing compared to the hangover headache growing with each passing minute of consciousness. You’re about to ask for Tylenol, when you hear the click and hiss of a glass door opening, followed by the sound of someone splashing in a pool. The apartment you share with your roommate has no access to a pool, let alone a back door made of glass. Opening your eyes feels like peeling apart pieces of tape, but with effort you blink slowly and allow your eyes to focus, trying to ignore the glare from the midday sun. You realize the fleece blanket you were resting on was your arm, nestled in the sleeve of a plush bathrobe. It was the kind of robe often seen hanging in the bathroom of high-end hotels.
“That was a side of you I haven’t seen before. Good morning, sunshine.” The voice is distinctively, impossibly Logan’s, with a new note of lightness to it that wasn’t present during last night’s party. “Care to see something interesting?”
You push yourself off the sofa slowly, adjusting the robe on you - apparently you fell asleep wearing it, and you have no idea where your dress or shoes are - and sit up. Logan’s dressed casually in black, seated at a desk a few feet away, with multiple monitors in front of him. One looks to be running code or tracking stock market activity, but he disconnects the laptop in the middle of the desk and carries it over to the couch, taking a seat next to you. There’s a video clip paused on the screen, and he waits to make sure you’re alert enough to watch, before letting it play.
The video shows a clip from the hotel’s CCTV cameras, pointed at the infinity pool. The only lights are coming from the pool walls, and the timestamp reflects it was the middle of the night, long after the party would’ve ended. There’s a naked male figure treading water matching Logan’s build, and then an undressed woman appears from the bottom edge of the frame, preparing to jump into the pool with him. You gasp, covering your mouth with one hand, making out a tattoo on her lower back - your tattoo - before cannonballing into the pool and making out with Logan just before dipping under the water’s surface.
Logan pauses the video, beaming an annoyingly adorable smug expression across his face as he resists the urge to tease you right away. Instead, he leans over, pecks your cheek, and eyes the glimpse of cleavage availed to him between the folds of your robe. “Lady’s choice - I could fuck your hangover away, or there’s coffee in the kitchen. What’ll it be?”
#logan delos#logan delos x reader#westworld#zaffrenotes writes#apparently for more than one fandom now#is this a fluke?#cw: alcohol#cw: swearing#cw: mild citrus#more than a lime but less than lemons#I love the way Ben cannot drink or eat like a normal human#it's endearing and I love him for it#chomp chomp Bennie
287 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
digcklett
Wad Up
luna-barks
sing me to sleep
individual-must-painting-wind
Untitled
nofatclips
No Fat Clips Diary
lets-groove-tonight
Glamrock Chica ♡