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elfven-blog · 9 months

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The Better Companion

Summary: You consider getting your bunny a companion, he shows you why it’s not necessary.

Bunny!Leon x F!Reader CW: MDNI, 18+ Only, breeding, p in v, using clothes to masturbate, bunny!leon, eating out, somnophilia Word count: 2.3K Credit: That anon from @lipglossanon thank you for the inspiration

When hybrids became a popular companion for people, most went for cats and dogs. The kittens and the puppies were adorable with their floppy ears or their soft tails. As a kid you were always jealous, not only could your family not afford a hybrid at the time (especially with adoption not being an option back then) but you simply never had the room for them. It wasn’t all bad, you had a friend who grew up with her two dogs. A Rottweiler and an American Cocker Spaniel sibling pair that Jill’s parents had brought, originally they had just wanted the male Rottweiler, but he wouldn’t leave the girl.

You had spent a lot of time around Jill’s house anyway with your mothers haven being childhood friends, it was a given you would be too. Even now with the both of you fully grown, having moved out of your childhood homes and with jobs the both of you were still the best of friends. The hybrid laws had changed over the years, adoption was more widespread, hybrid children were welcomed in schools, their healthcare had been explored more, they could get jobs, but it was still stunted. While they had more rights the hybrids were still seen as companions more than their own people. More like pets.

But one thing to change for you personally was that you had adopted a hybrid. It wasn’t a dog or a cat like you wanted as a child, you had gone with a bunny. He was a fully grown rabbit that hated being called bunny by anyone other than you, he had the cutest floppy ears and a cotton tail that twitched when he was annoyed. Recently, however, your bunny had been more short-tempered than usual.

On this particular morning before you left for work he had thumped and even bitten, some of the wooden toys you had to buy to keep his teeth down, in half. Normally his tantrums were never so bad, you dreaded what your house would look like when you finished your shift. You had been ranting to Jill for nearly your entire shift, whenever she made her way near the police reception desk for more papers or whatever she needed to do her job.

“He’s a bunny right? Maybe he needs a friend? They’re not meant to be alone, and you’ve picked up extra shifts” oh and now you felt silly, of course he needed a friend. Your mouth dropped open as you thought about Jill’s words. Thanking her as she walked off to her own desk to continue whatever case she was on. You set about scrolling on your computer to look for a companion for your normally sweet bunny. An extra mouth to feed would mean you needed to possible pick up more shifts, but it would be worth it to keep Leon happy.

You walked through the door after your long shift had finished, not seeing, or hearing the usual noises of Leon as you pulled your coat and shoes off to leave them by the door. With that done you walked further into the house, making your way to the living room and your mouth dropped open in surprise. The tv was playing one of Leon’s favourite shows, which wasn’t unusual, but the area was covered in the various blankets and pillows you had collected over the years. And in the centre on the floor was a small blanket fort, you got on your knees and lifted the blanket slightly.

And there under the fort, swaddled in another blanket and surrounded by your jumpers and hoodies was the blonde bunny. Your heart softened at the gaze as you looked at him, moving further into the small area, Leon was asleep, small snores leaving him as he nuzzled into one of your favourite hoodies. You lay down next to him, hands running through his hair and over his sensitive ears which caused him to roll over and bury his face into your chest instead, letting the hoodie fall from his grasp.

The action caused you to smile down at him, pressing a kiss to his forehead and grabbing one of the blankets from the floor to pull over you both as you settle down on the floor. Your attention is on the tv but as you grab the blanket your hand touches something sticky, and you take a breath of annoyance. You had told Leon before to eat at the table. You glanced down to see what food or drink he had spilt this time, but your eyes go wide, and a squeak leaves you as you look at the sticky white on the colourful blanket.

There was a lot of it. You looked around the small area he had made for himself, realising that quite a few items of yours were covered in dried white marks. God, you really really needed to get him a companion. But first, you peeled him off you and moved out of the den and quickly went to go take a shower. Feeling embarrassed while under the water as the image of your clothes covered in your sweet bunnies cum flashed through your mind. There was a small part of your mind, a dark part that lit up at the idea and slick gathered between your thighs at the idea of Leon sniffing your hoodies while his hips rutted his cock up into his fist.

You reached your hand up and turned the dial on the shower so that cold water ran down your body, stopping the heat in its track to cool you down and wash those thoughts away. He was your bunny; you couldn’t have those dirty thoughts.

After the shower which took longer than you normally did and finally changing into some comfy clothes you made your way back to the living room, nerves eating away at what you might find. But much to your surprise, the entire thing had been put away. Even the soiled clothing had been put on to wash from what you could hear. And Leon was sat on the sofa like nothing had happened as he smiled up at you innocently.

With this sight your shoulders relaxed, and you moved to sit down on the sofa. Leons mouth pulled down in a frown at how far away you sat, he let out a short hissing sound his head moving under your chin to tell you he wanted attention. You bit your lip feeling a bit awkward as your hand moved up to pet at his hair and ears causing the hissing to ease into a clucking as he became more content and he slowly moved to rest his head on your lap.

As your nails carded against his scalp and he let out that low clucking from the back of his throat, you reached for your phone and pulled up the adoption website you had been browsing at work. Leons attention was pulled to you when you placed the phone in front of his face “Take a look at this for me?” he could hear the slight apprehension in your voice, and he took the phone with suspicion.

You could feel Leon starting to bristle as he looked at the site, his eyes darkening at the sight of all the doe’s he was scrolling past. When he spoke his voice was terse “What is this?” you watched his cottontail twitch in annoyance and heard the grinding of his teeth. Your hand moving to soothe through his hair as you shrugged.

“Rabbits are social…I’ve been working a lot and I just figured you needed a more constant companion. All those doe’s are ready for adoption, and we could go look over the weekend” Before you could even finish your sentence Leon had stood up, thrown your phone onto the sofa next to you and started going walking away “Leon!”

He ignored you as he walked to his room stomping up the stairs as he went, slamming the door behind him and you heard the lock click into place as well. You rubbed at your forehead with a sigh. The rest of the evening was spent with the house in silence before you made your way to bed a little later that night. Making sure to leave him out some food for when he, no doubt, ventured out after he heard your door shut.

You wake up in a haze, your brow scrunched as you realised how hot you felt. You try to move your legs but there’s a grunt and their pinned down by something heavy. Then you finally notice the hot and wet feeling between your thighs. Your eyes drift down to see blonde hair, tongue lapping at your cunt. Your brain is slow to process what’s happening, but your body reacts immediately, hands curling into his hair as your hips roll up into his mouth.

Leon opens his eyes, almost no blue left in them as his arms move to pin your hips down as he pulls away. His mouth and jaw are dripping in slick “Finally awake little doe? Tasting this juicy pussy for so long, just lay back and let me” you whine still in a daze as he goes back to sucking on your clit, his tongue licking over your pussy lips.

“Why would I need another dumb rabbit? Got the best pussy right here, s’all I need” slick drips out of your fluttering hole at his words, and he drinks it up. His tongue fucking into your needy hole “So greedy, just need to a good doe and let me have my fill”.

Your mind starts to clear as you tug his hair, pulling him further into your pussy with a whine “Shouldn’t do this, s’dirty” Leon groans into your pussy, hands moving to your thighs to pin them down and leave you spread open as he pulls away.

“Not dirty, just what you need. A big strong buck to fill you up” He spits onto your pussy, causing you to whine as he watches it drip down until he’s fucking it into your hole with his tongue and your hips roll up. He moves to press wet open-mouthed kisses to your sensitive clit as his tongue flicks against it over and over until your back is arching pressing you pussy into his mouth.

“Leon, gonna cum, g’nna make me cum” You’re moaning as you speak, and one of your hands moves to tug his ear. He groans into you clenching hole, lapping at your pussy lips with slow strokes before he’s tongue fucking you again. His hands press your thighs to his head, as you squeeze around him and continuously roll your hips up.

“C’mon pretty doe, cum all over my face, get me messy” His face is pressed into your folds, as he sucks on the sensitive bud. Your hands tighten in a bruising grip as your legs kick and his face is covered in your slick as you cum, coating his jaw and chin as it drips down.

Leon moves up the bed, body pressing against yours to pin you to the bed and you taste yourself on his tongue as he kisses you messily until there’s spit drooling down your chin. His hands move your legs to so he can easily rut his hips up, his cock running through the slick dripping from your folds. Your hands claw at his broad back as Leon presses the fat head of his cock slip into the clenching hole of your warmth.

He sinks slowly into you before pulling back out and then pushing back in. His pace not changing as he buries himself into your pussy. “Gonna look so pretty, all swollen with my kits” His words turn your head to syrup as he fucks into you, and you decide it’s not enough as your hands scratch at his shoulders and your legs wrap around his waist.

Luckily your bunny takes the hint quickly, his hips speeding up until he’s railing you into the bed and his weight is pressing you down. He’s thrusting into you deeper and deeper until you’re sure you can feel the tip of him kiss your cervix. His hand moves between your bodies so he can rub and pinch at your clit while he fucks his cock deep into your pussy.

You choke on a whine, eyes clouded from the sensation of burning pleasure coursing through your body. “Please, Leon. Want it so bad, breed me, please” Your voice is a whisper as you beg him to fuck you full of his seed, and his eyes almost go black from the pleasure your words bring as he rabbits his hips against yours. Wet slapping fills the room from the force of his thrusts that have the bed knocking against the wall.

“God yes, gonna fill you, keep you here on my cock to make sure it takes” His voice is low and wanting as your walls squeeze hard on him, grunts falling from him as he pushes his hips flush with yours. Your orgasm hits with an intense force as you gush around his cock and coat your thighs while it drips onto the sheet. Leon holds you to him as he slows his rhythm down all the while still continuing to push into you, your hole spasms and clenches around him as he circles your clit, your legs shake from the overstimulation.

He stills his hips close to yours, head burying in your neck as he licks at the skin, his cock kicks inside you before he’s filling you with a hot sticky mess. He lays his body against you to keep you there as he gives you a slow gently kiss and his hands move to soothe at your sides and legs. “So so pretty, my pretty doe”.

Maybe you didn’t need to get him a companion after all.

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #re4!leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy smut #leon kennedy x f!reader #Leon kennedy x female reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil 4 #resident evil x reader

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pedge-page · 4 months

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Joel dealing with Preggo Wife # 7: House Pet

Can be read with others in series or standalone

Warnings: unprotected sex, slight Daddy kink, suggestive of oral M receiving, annoying reader and annoyed Joel

18 + ONLY

- - - -

You watch one depressing commercial of shivering dogs left emaciated in the cold begging for love and care, and all the water in your entire body comes flooding out in tears.

“J-j-j"—snUFFF—“JOeeeOEeeeoelllLLLL!!!" You wail, wiping your snot on his shirt sleeve while curled up against him. “THEY NWEEEDDD MWEEEEE!!!!”

“You wanna donate?”

N-d—nooo--“sniffle—“wanna -wa-wanna aa-ad-ad-opt—“

He chuckles like its some obvious joke, but when he sees the absolute shine in your giant eyes staring pleadingly at him, he puts his foot down as gently as possible: “Honey, we can’t have a dog right now. With you—being like this, and a baby on the way, I’ve got enough on my plate as is. Wanna make sure you and babygirl are well taken care of first, okay?”

There’s a tense silence hanging in the air as you seize a breath in your throat.

And then you’re LOSING IT, whining and crying like a child into his face.

“Jesus,” he mumbles softly, gently stroking your hair, hushing little shhhhh into your forehead and rocking you in his arms like a baby in a cradle— a giant baby stuffed with another baby currently rattling the emotions of the big baby.

He's given you a cup of water for bed and tucking you in, picking up the litany of tissues tossed around you, while you refuse to quit your puffy eye’d and endless barrage of tears.

By the next morning, swollen lids yet calm, he thought he’d heard the last of it last night. And you were doing much better mood wise—no cries, though a little cold shoulder to him. He gives you a few hours till you’re over it and asking for ice cream like nothing happened.

Until now, five days later where every minute is just a retort to his face about getting a dog.

When you best friend comes over to give you extra baby clothes:

"Aww your girl named her puppy Winston? That's so adorable! Joel, ya hear that??” You peak loudly so he can hear from the kitchen. “Too bad I don’t have a puppy named Winston.”

"When you have our daughter, she can get a puppy named Winston"

"Oh! Already picking her over me for getting a dog?"

He rolls his eyes, tuning out to focus on making you biscuits that are too salty so you’ll have something else to whine about.

During movie night:

“…If only I had a dog to help keep my feet warm on the couch.”

He shovels a fist full of popcorn into his tilted back, wide mouth. “‘At’s what a blanket’s for.” he yanks your favorite soft one over your toes and keeps his eyes on the TV.

To the neighbor that just fucking moved in two weeks ago:

"Joel doesn't kiss me enough. If I had a dog, I wouldn't complain as much since the pup would love me unconditionally."

He grits his teeth, excusing himself to the bathroom.

At Tommy’s place for a Sunday BBQ:

“Bought the wood second hand—I re constructed our living room myself,” he says braggingly, drawing a beer from the cooler.

"Yeah, Tommy, it’s real nice.” You charm, and you can already see Joel's fist clench at his side. “Would look even better with a dog in the window."

“Wish I had a fluffy dog to cuddle instead of your big ass."

"My husband spoils me so much. He usually gets me anything I want without asking! Unless it's a dog ..."

Joel finishing adding furniture to the baby room.

"You know what else this room could use?”

"A dog bed, a dog blanket, a dog.”

"If you say-one more-god damn thing-about the dog..." he huffs.

"What dog? We don't even have a dog."

"We don't-need one. Got a cat in the house already."

He thrusts in again with a grunt, your trail of thought disappearing for a second just as Joel’s fat cock penetrates you.

The two of you are lying sideways on the bed, his chest pressed flush against your back. With your leg just barely propped up with his masculine arm hooked under your knee, a hand splayed protectively over your big belly, he has enough room to slot his length into your achy sopping cunt, slowly fucking you with harsh little jolts. You grip the back of his neck, fingers clutched in his sweaty locks, feeling his hot breath dampening your collar.

He lets out a pained hiss. “This lil pussy right here is all the animal I can handle now. Now quit it.”

His hips begin to crash lightly over your ass, rutting his tip deeper into you with muffled slaps. He loves the sight of your now largely grown thighs jiggling with each impact. Loves the feeling of your swollen breasts suffocating his other hand. Loves the knowledge of his wife so stuffed full of him for everyone to see.

You moan lightly, clenching around him at the leisure, unhurried yet pent up pleasure coursing through you. But your mind wonders again. “If you don't want a rescue we can get a certain breed: How about a malnoise? Or something smaller like a corgi? Or aussie. Oh Pitties are so cute!"

He rolls his eyes, nose buried in your hair. How are you even able to have a coherent conversation right now while he's rearranging your guts? Rather than hushing you with another quit it, he decides to entertain you. "Jesus woman. Ain't pitties all mean?"

"Nooooo —mmm baby, right there—“ you whine, panting in sync as you lowly try to hump him back. “Protective, intimidating looking.” You smile, mouth agape and eyes closed when he hits that sweet spot deep inside. “Just—like you, big ol sweethearts…Who give their wives exactly what they fucking want—like a dog."

“Christ.” The hand from under your leg glides over your wet clit, his rough digits rubbing fast circles while his other free arm unfolds from under your throat to grip it lightly. His knees bend so he can rock just his hips with ferocious power, railing with the intent to fuck you so dumb, you can’t help but shut up. “One more peep and I'm switching us up and gonna fuck you like one.”

You really didn’t want to —resorting to this lounging position because your back hurt too much to be fucked doggy, and the baby weighed too heavily to ride him. Thank God his cock was fucking huge—it could reach deep into you at any position. No fucking wonder you got pregnant so easily.

“no- no Daddy, I'll be good," you hum. "Unfff—mmm-yeah—yeah! Fuuuck—fuck me baby that’s it!” You shout. Joel’s hand works endlessly on your little nub, now at the mercy of his ministrations to get you off since you can’t reach yourself anymore. You grip your belly and cry, walls convulsing around his meat with a much needed orgasm. Joel follows suit not too long after, biting your shoulder as his hips still against your ass, pumping you full of his pearly cum.

The two of you stay in the same position, breathing heavily as you come down from your respective highs.

His eyes close, breath slowing and getting deeper in relaxation as his fingers lightly dance over your swole bump.

You feel the gentle cooling breeze of the fan spinning above you. Sighing contently now filled with your husband’s love and caressed with his tender hands.

“…So I was thinking, when we get a dog..."

"WE ARE NOT GETTIN’ A DOG AND THAT’S FINAL."

Tommy comes over and can tell something is up between you two. When Joel leaves the room, he asks "so what is it this week with Joel?"

"He won't get me--what do you mean THIS week??"

"Nothing nothing, he won't get you a what?"

"A dog. I want a dog. He doesn’t want a dog. So I don’t understand why he can’t compromise and get a dog.”

He laughs. “Honey, cuz that’s not a compromise. You know why he won't get you one, right?"

"Cuz he doesn't want to take care of me, a baby, and the dog at the same time"

"Nah. He's worried you'll only want the dog’s affection, and the baby gets the rest of your attention. Then you won’t have anything left for him.”

“…Oh!"

Later that night, Joel is still steaming from your earlier conversation after sex, having no regard for listening to another thing you had to say the rest of the day. You waddle into the bedroom, looking apologetic as possible with your hands held behind your back. He only looks up from the bed to see you: in his large T shirt with nothing else, freshly lavender scented from your bath, and big pleading child-like eyes full of sorrow. He purses his lips before returning to his book, glasses perched on his nose.

You approach Joel with an apology gift that you hid behind your back: a stuffed wolf.

He smiles gently unable to even pretend to hold his temper against you. you kiss the tip of his nose as he caresses your smoothed bump. “You're my favorite dog anyway,” you say warmly. “Needy. Grumpy. Likes food. Gives me kisses."

“Thought I didn’t give ya enough kisses? Least that’s what you told neighbor.”

“That was—a lie.” You bat your eyes cutely. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“Mmmm,” is all he says, his eyes raking over your curves just barely covered now due to your size. “I don’t know, Daddy might need more apologies — ya did treat me real bad this week.”

You hum sadly, nuzzling yourself against his chest. your hand trails down his firm middle, all the way to the growing tent sticking up from his boxers.

“I can lick it better,” you whisper seductively in his ear, nipping at his pulse point.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

And after one of your famous deep throated blow job with Joel's balls happily emptied in your already full belly, he leans over to his side table and pulls the drawer open, holding something tight in his hand.

You just barely stop yourself from falling asleep with your head on his lap when he dangles a dog collar above your head. You sit up, inspecting it with grubbing hands: it has your home address etched on to the metal plate, but no name on it.

“What you want me to be your dog? I’ll wear the collar but I’m not getting on my knees, nor crawling around and drinking from dog bowls and shitting in the yard—“

“No angel,” he shushes you. Although the image of you wearing the collar, naked and heavily pregnant on your knees in front of him wasn’t a bad idea at all…he shakes his head from the delusion. ”Aint for you. Thought about it—but ONLY after have the baby and are settled, and ya know IF —and that’s a mighty big if—we find one that’s not too rough shape, got a good sense about ‘im, then MAYBE I’ll consider it.”

"Oh my god! Thank you! Thankyouthankyou--"

"I said IF sweetheart. Got along road ahead till then."

"I'll give you as many blow jobs as you want."

"You already do that for yourself."

"Yeah but... how about I sit on your face? Fully?"

His ears perk up. "Yeah?"

"After the baby is born," you quip, smirking with more confidence then your swollen body can muster trying to wiggle away from his grasp like a devious chubby oompa lumpa. He just laughs to himself as you slip down the bed, and the sudden urge to pee has you B-lining to the bathroom.

- - - -

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tenseoyong · 1 year

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Aemond loves his little family.

He keeps a watchful eye over his children, making the royal guards seem redundant. Aemond often recalls the ridicule and embarrassment he’d faced as a child—and the resulting accident—and makes it a personal matter to maintain a keen eye over how the children behave towards each other, or how other children in the keep interact with his family.

Rarely does he let his half-sister and his nephews interact with his happy little family.

The Prince is unusually involved in his children’s lives for someone of his station—the responsibility typically laying with that of wet nurses and his lady-wife’s handmaidens—yet Aemond does it anyways.

He personally oversees their studies, and has taken the task upon himself of teaching his children High Valyrian—carefully correcting mispronunciations and gently calming them when their frustrations grow.

Aemond refused to be to his children what his own father was to him—neglectful and uninterested or show obvious favoritism for one over the masses—Aemond made sure all his children felt equally as loved and cherished, in their own ways of course.

His eldest son—Vaemon—was very much the warrior every royal family hoped the first born male would be. Aemond had a little wooden sword crafted and in the small boy’s hand before the child could fully walk.Aemond was often spotted training with the young lad, teaching his heir proper techniques and how to find and use one’s advantages.

A few years behind his first born, came Vaenya. Undoubtedly his scholar in the making. The young girl would rarely be found without a book in her grasp; Aemond would gift her with every newly published book he could get his hands on, though, she greatly favorite those of the world’s history—much like her father—and Aemond would enjoy quiet evenings spent by candlelight, the two of them pouring over ancient texts. Often, Aemond would teasingly correct her posture, “Slouching is unbecoming of a Princess~”

His darling Haelera, who—affectionately named after his sweet sister—had somehow managed to gather the same odd fascination with all things creepy-crawly, still felt her father’s warm love. Though, you could say she was a lover of animals in general, it was much easier to come across bugs of various types than an odd dog or cat in the Red Keep. Aemond listening intently to every little insect fact his darling daughter brought to his attention, and would often return from his Princely duties with a jar containing a random bug much to Haelera’s delight.

And Little Raenar could just barely toddle after his older brother and his father, yet Aemond was insistent on bringing the infant as he and Vaemon trained. Aemond supposed the young babe simply liked the sounds of metal—if the light on his face and the happy giggles that floated through the training yard each time Aemond blocked one of Vaemon’s attacks were anything to go by—but the babe seemed to enjoy the activity, or his brother and sire’s company either way, and Aemond was content with including him even if his little mind wasn’t entirely sure what was happening.

Aemond personally picks each and every dragon egg that would be placed in his children’s cradles. And while, thankfully all eggs did hatch, Aemond did harbor a bit of fear that one of his children would be left to suffer a fate similar to his as a dragonless Targaryen—and vowed he’d not have them ridiculed as he once was, that he’d comfort and adore them regardless.

He relishes in teaching his children to be dragon riders. To see the ease and joy on their faces after a their first ride, to see they have what should have been his—gaining a dragon-bond at birth, and not having to lose a part of themselves in order to gain something by sheer determination—Aemond delights in taking his little clan on family rides.

Aemond would not see his little family crumble and become scattered in the winds as his extended family had been in his youth. He insists upon the family being together during every meal, not that you’d ever begin to think of denying him that—the family being as tight knit as it was—Aemond enjoyed hearing about each member of his family’s daily activities and growing interests.

He would never be more grateful to anyone more than he was to his Lady-Wife for giving him something he’d never truly had before—the gift of family—darling children that loved each other as much as their father loved them.

Aemond Targaryen loves his little family.

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landograndprix · 5 months

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「Feel the magic ๛ l.n」

part xii

✧.* triple header, triple podiums, and triple the love.

✧.* quick little filler before it kicks off. Foreshadowing? Maybe. More insight in the y/nlando household? Yes 🥰 getting to know girlie even better? Yes ❤️this is a psa for the people who wanted to be on my taglist but never got tagged, i didn't forget or ignore you, I simply am unable to tag you and therefore removed you from the list feel free to ask me again so I can take a look at it. Taglist is open Love ya ❤️

✧.* prev part - next part

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mclaren

liked by yourmumsuser, maxfewtrell and 253,678 others

mclaren front row locked in once again!

#imolagp

tagged: landonorris, y/nusername

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mcpapaya this team!!!! 🧡

johnson87 them sharing the sheets really works out for us fans huh

bott_ass you're so real for this

norry4 that's my team y'all 😭

sharllekler girlie really said I'm in a good mood, let me give my man a tow and then proceeded to take his pole away 😭

norrizz gotta keep him on his toes :')

marcusklein she's gonna make it up to him tonight

lanlan 🕯 lando p1 🕯

maxfewtrell absolutely mental!

teampapaya HAPPY MCLAREN WEEK 🧡🧡

y/nloveee can't wait to see my girl pull a max verstappen and win her 4th wdc halfway the season 🥰

ohnomeshoes no joke, bagging y/n might just be the best thing to happen to lando, man's is killing it on all fields!!

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y/nusername

liked by cecilemoulin, riabish and 672,652 others

y/nusername fam fam ❤️

tagged: landonorris

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hamilt44n once in a while y/n posts one of these fam fam posts and every time there's a new addition 😭

norrizz a new cat, dog and boyfriend 😂

yukisan I wanna live with you guys, pls, I know I'd be spoiled rotten

y/ngirlie bestie you're such a mom

alex_albon you're going to end up with more pets than us..

norry4 lando being accepted as a part of the family, my boy promoted to dad and step dad 🥺

cecilemoulin something tells me lando did not know about the goodest little doggie 😍

y/nusername unplanned parenthood

y/nlandooo girl stop, what's next, a goat? 😂

bobnorriz she already got a goat back at her parents house, two horses and one fucking duck 💀

y/nusername they didn't fit in my place here in Monaco unfortunately :(

bobnorriz girl get a farm 😅

carlandooo wait so you really adopted a cat back in Spain lmao

landonorris I'll find a cow in the living room next week

y/nusername don't give me ideas

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y/nusername posted to their story

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y/nusername

liked by landonorris, pierregasly and 789,672 others

y/nusername España, un hogar lejos de casa ☀

tagged: landonorris, maxfewtrell, cecilemoulin

view all 1,212 comments

mrsnorris 'home far away from home' and for what reason? Oh that's right..Carlos..🥴

chilisainz okay bestie, let's put you to bed..okay? You're talking shit again.

norrizz honestly, it's been a while since we last saw you..how have you been my love? Enjoying every single piece of y/nlando content we've had so far? 🥰

yukisan okaaay but that food looks amazing 😭

teamnotrell bunch of cuties enjoying their few days off :)

landonorris can't believe max got a girlfriend

maxfewtrell okay mate..

cecilemoulin I'm getting paid for this

maxfewtrell you're always bullying me and for what?

y/nusername I've got your back babes ❤️

maxfewtrell thank you ❤️

charles16 lando, y/n and Cecile podium this week? 👀

norry4 I love this little group of gremlins <3

landonorris love you muppet ❤️

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Feel the magic taglist: @celesteblack08 @mrsmaybank13 @cha-hot @judesgfirl @roseseraj @kissesandmartinis @jpg3 @amulhermaisfelizdomundo @marialovesf1 @silkenthusiasts @luvrrish @laneyspaulding19 @emily-b @buckybarnessweetheart @strawberrychita @iifloweringnightsii @buendiabebeta @babyvinnie @mishaandthebrits @hockeyboysarehot @ironmaiden1313 @justdreamersdream @dreamsarebig @angelfreckless

Lando taglist: @beatricemiruna @simp-for-fictional-people @landossainz @christianpulisic10

Everything taglist; @thomaslefteyebrow @hopefulinlove @smoothopz @honethatty12 @cixrosie @parkersmjs @ireadthensuetheauthors @celestialams @be-your-coffee-pot @heli991113 @kodzuvk @reality-is-a-con @80sloverry @bibissparkles @myescapefromthislife @lanando4 @elliegrey2803 @ravisinghs-wife @harrysdimple05 @minkyungseokie

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris #lando norris x oc #lando norris fanfic #lando norris au #lando norris smau #lando norris imagine #lando x reader

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pawnshopbleus · 3 months

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Miller's Girl - Part One

Professor!Joel Miller x Fem!College Student!Reader Very Loosely based off of the new movie, Miller's Girl, starring Jenna Ortega and Martin Freeman

Summary - Your landlord decides to raise the rent in your studio apartment the day you are fired from your job. In need of money, you sign up for a babysitting service your friend suggested. You didn’t expect to get an offer so quickly, and you also didn’t expect to come from your professor.

Series contains - cursing, mature language, teacher x student relationship, age gap, smut, fluff, angst, non beta read chapters and everything else I forgot to mention

College, no outbreak, and modern AU

The record store in downtown Austin was filled to the brim with people excited to have their items signed by their favorite band. The crowd was a mix of teen girls with their dads and middle-aged men on their lonesome. The band in question was some underground band from the eighties that you had never heard of.

Your co-worker, Emma, was in charge of keeping the crowd in check while you were manning the register. This wasn’t the first time you had done these signings. In the two years that you have worked here, hundreds of artists have come in and out of those doors. They attract their loyal fans to the store which can give it more publicity and customers.

Your eyes scan the crowd. It was still pretty full, but the line had stopped trickling out of the doors and onto the sidewalk. You look over at Emma to see her standing with her weight on her left hip and her arms crossed. If you didn’t know her, you would have thought she looked like a bitch, but in all actuality, she is the nicest girl you know.

The doors open and the bell above it rings. Your boss comes in and surveys the store. His bald head nods as he skims it. Nothing had been stolen and the customers looked happy. When his eyes land on you, your heart drops. You know that look. It was the same look he gave your other co-worker that look right before he fired him. You cross your fingers under the counter and plaster a fake smile on your face.

Your entire world looks like it’s in slow motion. Your boss steps closer. Each step he takes makes your heart thump in your chest. The sound his thousand-dollar shoes make on the floor sounds like the bombs used on the battlefield.

You don’t know if you either blacked out or passed out, but the next thing you knew, you were in the staff room gathering your things. This would be the last time you would ever step foot in this record store as an employee, but that should have been the least of your worries. You needed this job. Without it, you won’t be able to afford rent. Luckily, you were smart enough to get a full-ride scholarship for the university you attended, but there were still other expenses that needed to be paid.

The hallway of your apartment building seemed colder than it usually is. The usual shushing of dogs who aren’t supposed to be in the apartment is replaced with static. The crickets weren’t even chirping. The sound of your breathing brought you out of your tiny rut. At least you were still alive.

The pink paper in front of your door made you stop in your tracks. You could read what it said from where you stood. ‘Rent will be increased to a thousand dollars a month’ was typed out in Times New Roman. Only pretentious bitches type in Times New Roman.

You were sure that this was the work of the couple that bought the building six months ago. They promised the residents who lived there that the rent would stay the same, but the promise had just been broken. You were worried for yourself, sure, but you were also worried about the elderly people who couldn’t afford to go anywhere else.

You wish nothing but the worst for the new landlords and make your way into your studio apartment. It’s a mess, just the way you left it this morning. Your cat, Bill, lays outstretched on your couch as if he were the one who just worked eight hours only to get fired at the end of it.

You flop on your couch and sigh. For the first time in a while, you don’t know what to do. You just got fired and your rent got increased. If you can’t pay rent then you’ll become another homeless college student. Just another statistic to the state and a burden to the university.

Your phone chimes and you almost cry with joy as you see your best friend’s caller ID flash across the screen.

You pick up the phone and she begins talking immediately. She goes on and on about some boy she saw a the mall. He had icy blonde hair, but his roots were showing which meant that he wasn’t a natural blonde. This was a good distraction for about a few minutes until you realized that you wouldn’t be able to afford to go to the mall anymore.

Your hot tears dribbled down your cheeks and fell onto your chest.

“Are you okay?”

“Cherry, I just got fired from my fucking job because my boss wants to buy more fucking shoes and my rent just got fucking increased because my landlords are fucking bastards!” You say through tears. “I think I just heard you say ‘fucking’ in that one sentence more times than I have heard you say it in your entire life,” Cherry laughs.

“It’s not funny, Cherry. I'm going to be homeless!”

“Stop being dramatic. Sign up for flowers for one dot com. It’s a babysitting website where single parents find a babysitter for their children. My cousin did it for about a year and made more money than she does at her regular job.”

For the first time in a very long time, Cherry gave you actual good advice. She gave you a solution to all of your problems.

“Thanks, Cher, bye.” You hang up before Cherry has a chance to say goodbye.

Your phone drops onto the couch and bounces off, falling on the floor. You suck in air through your teeth and grab your phone off the floor. You should be more gentle with it because you can’t afford to get a new one if it breaks.

Flowers for one dot com was a simple website. It got straight to the point. No fancy explanation of ‘who are we’ or ‘why do we do this.’ You include the fact that you are certified by the Red Cross in CPR and that you are a senior at The University of Texas at Austin. You also add that you are majoring in architecture and the fact that you want to become an interior designer.

Your profile is up and running in an hour. You look over it again and close your laptop. Your life is falling apart piece by piece, but maybe you should clean up a bit.

The dirty clothes that were being neglected in the corner of your room are now in your hamper. You can see the hardwood floor that you’ll be paying a thousand dollars a month for.

Your phone chimes once again, but this time it’s an email from the website. You almost drop your phone again as you read who it’s from.

Joel Miller, Professor of Architectural Studies at The University of Texas at Austin.

I'm the pretentious bitch that writes in Times New Roman 🙋🏿‍♀️

#joel miller #joel tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #tlou

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bangtanflirt · 1 year

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Wait, Little Rabbit! (Part 1)

fluff, angst, future smut

Bunny Hybrid (Fem) Reader x Human Seokjin x Dog Hybrids Jimin and Hoseok x Cat Hybrid Yoongi x Wolf Hybrids Namjoon, Taehyung, & Jungkook

There will be lots of smut in future chapters so the whole series is 18+, minors dni.

Part 1 > Part 2

Summary: You, a meek little bunny hybrid, find family amongst six predator hybrids and their lovely human caretaker.

Warnings: bruises and a cut, Joon is prejudiced against prey hybrids, fear, loss of consciousness, mentions of abandonment and minor character dying of old age, mentions of bullying

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“Why is she so scared hyung?”

The younger dog hybrid is pawing at your thigh gently before the older one holds him back.

“She’s a bunny hybrid Chim. Of course she’ll be scared of two random dog hybrids ambushing her. Let’s give the frightened bun some space.”

As always, Jimin listens obediently to his Hobi hyung.

“Go call Seokjin hyung and tell him to bring the first aid kit.”

Jimin runs off into the house while Hoseok eyes the bruises on your arms and legs, as well as the cut on your brow that has dried blood surrounding it. He’s keeping a distance and avoiding any fast movements in an attempt to not spook you. He knows you would be limping off already if you hadn’t backed yourself into the corner of their backyard. God knows how you even got yourself over the fence, but it’s evident you were running away from something or someone. He’s just glad Jimin called him over at the right time.

There are two pairs of footsteps running towards you, one being Jimin. You make out the appearance of another figure through your teary eyes, this time a human.

“Jin hyung, please help her” Jimin pleads, eyes filled with worry the more he looks at you.

The wide-shouldered blonde squats down to be eye-level with you. He doesn’t say anything, just flashes you a kind smile and holds out a hand with fresh lettuce. Your face contorts into a mix of worry and desire, causing a war to take place inside your mind. In a risky but desperate move, you snatch the head of lettuce from the man and consume it like it’s your last meal. The lettuce is enough to distract you while the man gently tends to the cut on your brow. After he’s done a satisfying job, he leans back and finally speaks.

“Can I take you inside little bun? You need to rest.”

You’re still terrified, but you’ll take any option that avoids the hybrid control van you were running from, so you give a meek nod. Jin wastes no time in scooping you up and carrying you indoors, the two dog hybrids following closely behind. You’re carefully placed on a sofa in the living room, and nothing could have prepared you for the sight: a total of seven faces staring down at you, crowding around the sofa in both worry and curiosity. Aside from the human and two dog hybrids, you see a cat hybrid and…three wolf hybrids?!

You jump up immediately, cutting through the men and scrambling to find the exit.

“Wait wait! Relax bun, no one’s gonna hurt you!” Seokjin tries his best at communicating, but you’re too out of it to register his words. In a haze of confusion, you can’t find the door to leave and end up locking yourself into a bathroom instead. Your heartbeat is the loudest thing in the room, but you can also hear the arguing on the other side of the door.

“I told you guys to stay in your room!” You hear Jin scold.

“But the dogs went up to her and we felt left out” pouts an unknown voice.

“I can’t say I’m surprised by you and Taehyung running out, Kook. What I don’t get is why Namjoon both allowed and joined in! Your supposed to be responsible as their Alpha, Joon!”

“Why are you yelling at us over some random rabbit, hyung? Who cares if she’s scared. She’s a rabbit hybrid—when are they not scared? She’s basically at the bottom of the food chain.” The low voice paired with a slight growl has you even more on edge.

“Joon, watch it.”

There’s a pregnant pause on both sides of the door, until a loud thud from your side breaks it. Jungkook wastes no time kicking in the door, revealing your passed out form on the bathroom floor.

___

You wake up to Seokjin by your side. Presumably, you are in his bedroom. Hoseok is sitting patiently next to him, watching the human with stars in his eyes.

Hoseok is the first to notice that you’re awake, “Hey bun! Are you feeling any better?”

Seokjin’s eyes dart up from his phone and straight to you, concern etched on every feature of his breathtakingly handsome face.

All you can do is hesitantly nod. You do, however, speak out to ask about the most pressing thing on your mind.

“W-where are the wolves?” Your question is punctuated by the way you bring the covers up higher to cover half of your face.

“They are in their rooms, and they will not be coming anywhere near you until you’re ready.” Jin’s voice is firm and helps you believe his words, but lingering doubts still eat at you.

Seokjin has to leave to check on the others, entrusting your company to Hoseok. Normally, a dog hybrid would make you jittery, but you conclude that Hoseok and Jimin would’ve already hurt you in the backyard if they wanted to. Hoseok’s warm aura further helps his case. He’s constantly asking for updates on how you feel, shoving saltine crackers into your hands, and nagging you until you chug down at least two water bottles. Hoseok’s mouth forms into a surprised ‘o’ at how you hold onto his hand at the sound of the bedroom door opening. You swiftly let go once you realize it’s Jimin.

The younger dog hybrid walks in slowly, but gains confidence when noticing that you’re not scared out of your mind. Instead, you’re looking at him with the same curiosity he looks at you with. Next thing you know, the hybrid is under the covers next to you. You watch Hoseok and him exchange playful looks.

“Hi bun, glad you’re okay.”

“Hi.”

“I’m Jimin and that’s Hoseok—but we call him Hobi. What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Such a cute name” Hoseok chimes in.

___

The next two weeks are spent with you recuperating in Seokjin’s room, with only him and the dog hybrids around you. Nights are spent with you sleeping on one side of the king-sized bed and Jin on the other, keeping a gentlemanly distance and a watchful eye. Hobi and Jimin sleep soundly at Jin’s feet. Jin jokes of how giving the dog hybrids their own room is the most useless idea he’s ever had. In the morning, Hoseok brings you trays of various fruits and veggies—each time exclaiming how he prepared the breakfast himself and how sad he’ll be if you don’t finish your plate. The statement is ironic considering how you leap up for the food every time.

Days go by with the three men both entertaining and doting on you. Everything seems lovely, except the overwhelming anxiety of knowing that three wolf hybrids could come in and rip your throat out at any minute—hell, you’re even scared of the unfamiliar cat hybrid coming in.

Your anxieties come to a head on a Thursday night; your throat is itching uncontrollably and you can’t find any water in sight. Not wanting to bother anyone by waking them up, you decide to tip-toe your way to the kitchen yourself. Surely, no one will bother you in the middle of night, right?

It’s your first time outside of Jin’s room since the day you were brought in. Unlike the bedroom, which grew to feel familiar and safe, the rest of the house still feels like foreign land. You pour yourself a glass and feel at ease once the itch dies down. Just as you place the glass in the sink, your prey instincts go into overdrive and you can tell a predator is right behind you. Please let it be the cat, please let it be the cat.

Nope. You’re face-to-face with two glowing wolf eyes.

Just as you’re about to scream, the wolf covers your mouth with one big hand.

“Shh, you’ll wake up the whole house!” He says in a pout. His tone is nowhere as threatening as his wolf eyes or stature. “I’m not going to hurt you. I couldn’t sleep and I heard footsteps, so I came out. Can we please have a normal conversation without you looking like I’m going to eat you?”

It’s only when you nod that he uncovers your mouth.

“I’m Jungkook” he extends a hand out.

“Y/N,” you reply, but don’t meet his hand. He lets out a whiny sigh at your rejection.

“I just want to say, Y/N, that I’m sorry about what happened the day you got here. We should’ve been more careful as wolf hybrids. But please know that things here are not the same as things in the wild; you aren’t prey when you’re with us.”

You want to believe him. You want to be wrapped up in this fantasy where you’re not a prey hybrid, destined to look over your shoulder every five minutes. You almost buy into it, but then you remember the first night.

“T-that’s not what your Alpha t-thinks. I heard the fight before I passed out that night.”

Jungkook’s features soften at the pitiful tone of your voice.

“Namjoon hyung will come around, don’t worry bun. He talks big but he’s harmless unless you’re an actual threat to the pack, which you most definitely are not. Just give him the chance to warm up. In the meantime, I’ll look out for you, so please come out to the living room every once in a while.”

You feel like your ears are being deceived, because there’s no way a wolf hybrid just said he’d look out for you.

___

It’s the middle of your third week here that the bedroom starts feeling a little claustrophobic. Your conversation with Jungkook constantly replays in your mind as you try to gage whether it’s okay to go out. In a cataclysmically big and naïve leap of faith, you open the door.

It’s evening time and everyone’s bustling around the living room and kitchen—except for the cat hybrid that is curled up and sleeping on the sofa. Jin is preparing dinner while the dog hybrids are fetching him whatever ingredients he needs. Jungkook is watching dinner be made, sitting beside the two other wolves who seem deep in conversation.

Everything freezes when they realize you’ve come out.

“C-can I join?”

Jin immediately nods a yes, face unable to hide his glee. At first he tells you to sit by the sleeping cat, but is shocked when you take the seat Jungkook offers you instead. Everyone’s bewildered by your choice—Jungkook and yourself included. Nonetheless, you prop yourself on the stool next to the only wolf you know and do your best to hide how much your shaking. Every hybrid in the room can clearly smell your fear though.

“You smell delicious”

“Tae” Jungkook sends a clear warning, causing the silver-haired wolf to raise his arms up in defeat.

“I’m kidding!” He says with a roll of his eyes. His focus is then shifted entirely to you. “I’m Taehyung, nice to meet you.”

You force a tight lipped smile and a response of your name, clearly uncomfortable by the situation. You wonder if it’s too late to retreat back into the bedroom.

“Don’t stress about this one, Y/N. Taehyung jokes around, but he’s the sweetest wolf hybrid you’ll ever come across.”

You mull over Hoseok’s statement, finding it hard to believe considering that Jungkook is already the sweetest wolf hybrid you’ve ever encountered. You doubt Taehyung is nicer than him. Your eyes wander to the man besides Taehyung, who—by process of elimination—must be the Alpha, Namjoon. His domineering presence definitely screams Alpha, alright. The brief moment where his gaze meets yours has you feeling as if you’re being burned alive. You break the eye contact immediately, choosing to focus on literally anything else.

“Dinner’s almost done. Taehyung-ah, go wake up Yoongi.”

The wolf gets up and makes his way over to the balled up cat—or Yoongi, as he’s known. The sight amuses you: a wolf hybrid tentatively trying to wake up a cat hybrid. The cat wakes up and gives Taehyung a nasty stare, causing the wolf visible distress. This is not the dynamic you see in the wild, for sure.

Yoongi stretches out fully, yawning and taking his sweet time before noticing the elephant—or rather, bunny—in the room. He quirks up a brow, but aside from that, his face remains stoic as he maneuvers around you to help set the table. You’re aching to help them as well, but it’s hard when everyone else already knows where everything is and what they should be doing.

Dinner is simple yet delicious: chicken and potatoes seasoned with just the right amount of spice to have everyone at the table praising the human chef. For you, it’s potatoes and mac and cheese, as to keep in line with your vegetarian rabbit-diet. You’re sitting between Hoseok and Jin, who are the most eager to spark up conversation with you, asking you about your preferences in food and other random trivia. Jimin encourages you to keep talking every time you fumble over your words or stutter, and Jungkook keeps a protective gaze like he promised. Taehyung and Yoongi seem generally disinterested in your existence, and Namjoon’s just straight-up ignoring you altogether.

That is until Seokjin asks what brought you to their backyard in the first place.

“I was running from a Hybrid Control van.” Your voice comes out softer than normal.

“You don’t seem like a wild bun, did you run away from somewhere?” Jin tries his best to prod gently, not wanting to cause you more distress.

“I used to live with an elderly woman before she passed away. Her kids dumped me on some random street corner, so I’ve just been trying to get by for the past few months.”

“And the cuts and bruises?”

“Some neighborhood kids..kept trying to make me do tricks but I didn’t know how, so they started hitting me. I was running away from them and then the van started chasing me.”

“You just let them hit you? That’s when you throw a couple punches and claw their eyes out.” It’s the first time Yoongi’s ever spoken to you, and the condescending look he gives makes you want to crawl into a hole.

“Not every hybrid is like you, Yoongi” Hoseok speaks admonishingly, “I think it’s very impressive that a prey hybrid managed to escape. She’s a tough one.” Hoseok doesn’t miss the little smile you throw his way.

Namjoon scoffs from the other side of the table, all eyes now turned on him.

“’Tough’ and ‘prey hybrid’ together in a sentence is hilarious.”

“Kim Namjoon, behave. Just because you’re the Alpha of your pack does not mean you have the right to disrespect whom I bring to my house.” Jin’s harsh tone has you on the verge of tears, and you’re not even the one being scolded. Hoseok reaches for your hand under the table, rubbing your palm to try to soothe you.

“She doesn’t belong here, Jin. The rest of us might be different from each other, but we’re all predator hybrids. We get each other and we have the same instincts. But her? She looks like she’s going to drop dead if one of us breathes too loudly—not to mention how she reeks of fear. She’s ruining the whole mood.”

Unlike the threatening but calm voice Jin has up this point, the human begins to raise his voice.

“Then why does everyone else seem to be okay? Why does it seem like you are the one ruining the mood?”

Even the Alpha wolf is taken aback at the raised voice, opting to throw a low snarl your way and retreat to his room—meal only half eaten.

The rest of dinner is tense and silent, with only sounds of silverware hitting plates.

___

Hoseok and Jimin sandwich you between them on Jin’s bed while the bed’s owner is taking his nightly shower. You keep telling them that you’re fine and the events of dinner didn’t phase you too much, but they see right through your lies. The two keep you close, assuring you that things will get better.

When Jin comes out, he’s met with Jimin’s puppydog eyes on full display,

“Y/N can stay with us permanently, right hyung?”

The question throws you off. You hadn’t considered any of them would want you there permanently.

“If she wants, she’s more than welcome.” He says it as if it’s the most matter-of-fact-obvious thing in the world.

“Really? Even with everything that happened at dinner?”

“Of course. I’ve never turned away a hybrid that needs a home, and I won’t start now. Give it time and you’ll fit right in, I promise.” You’re sure you’ll see angel wings sprouting from the back of those wide shoulders at some point. The sheer amount of luck it took for you to choose that specific fence to hop into this specific house’s backyard—yeah you were a lucky one, alright.

____

A/N: Thank you for reading! Reblogs and comments are always loved and appreciated. Have a lovely day 😘

#bts hybrid au #bts hybrid x reader #poly ot7 #ot7 x reader #hybrid jungkook #hybrid jimin #hybrid taehyung #hybrid namjoon #hybrid yoongi #hybrid hoseok #caretaker seokjin #bts fluff #bts angst

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cobaltperun · 4 months

Text

Lost (2) - Into the nothing

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Word count: 4k

Story Masterlist / Previous part / Next part

-Heaven hear me, I know we can make it out alive-

You woke up around half past seven, the fatigue from battle still weighing you down, but more than that you couldn’t shake off that uneasy feeling from the last night. You tried and you tried, but you just felt like something was wrong. You sighed, the sound of birds chirping by your window did little to take your mind off the bad feeling. So, you sat up, turned the TV on and got up while the documentary about whales droned on. You lived in an efficiency apartment, and as cramped as it was, you made it a home thanks to Tara. She got you the few trinkets that were lying around. The cheesy ‘Home is where the heart is’ hung from the doors above the coat hangers. The small porcelain cat napped on the fridge, and a slightly bigger stuffed dog she bought you for your twelfth birthday sat on the nightstand drawer next to your bed. There were only two framed photos in your apartment, both of them were just you and Tara, one from her eighteenth birthday, and one back when you were kids and Tara and Mindy won an award for a short video.

Everything else was pretty much minimalistic, you hardly had space for anything else, given the living area wasn’t even 250 square feet. Bed at the corner, with nightstand drawer to its’ right, the TV hanging on the opposite wall, a coffee table you modified to be taller that doubled as table in general between the two with a couch just beneath the window. The kitchen area was small as well, just bare necessities, which sometimes made cooking a bit of a struggle for space. What little space was left was used up by the wardrobe closet and your bag and basic training gear, both by the wall where the TV was, standing between the doors and the TV.

You were comfortable in your home, comfortable in your own small space, separated from the rest of the town, in a building that was meant to be a part of some bigger project that got canceled, but the building remained, and the couple you worked for owned this apartment and a few other in the building and they rented it to you for a ridiculously cheap price. Right now, however, you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling off, you needed to go train, or go to work, or do anything to keep your mind off whatever was causing that damn feeling.

So, you broke your rules and ran down the stairs all the way from the third floor, and then, the moment you stepped through the main building entrance, you began running. You had a set of rules you lived by, eat healthy, train hard, rest enough, and resting enough involved having a day off after a fight, meaning no work, no training, just recovering. Yet here you were, running on an empty stomach while the town woke from the slumber. Cars drove past you, as did the school bus, and for a moment you thought you caught glimpse of Tara sitting by the window, probably with Amber next to her. Running cleared your head a bit and you made up your mind. Next weekend you’d take Tara away from Woodsboro, you’d take her wherever she wants to go, Amber’s whining be damned.

You were tired of the distance, and you could feel Tara was tired of it as well, and it was about time you did something to change that.

With that sense of clarity and the decision you finished your run and, despite still having a day off, took a shower and went to work.

~X~

It was always the same old story when he and Mindy were alone. Always the struggle for the rights to control what they’d watch.

“There’s a basketball game on right now and I want to watch it,” Chad raised the remote above his head, not willing to budge. Could he have gone to his room to watch it. Absolutely, and Mindy could have gone to her room to watch whatever movie she wanted to watch tonight. Still, over the years it turned into a bit of a game between them, to see who would cave in first and he wasn’t going to be the one to give in this time.

“Pft, there’s a brand new horror movie airing and the remote has my name on it,” she pulled his forearm down so she could reach the remote, but he just tossed it to his other hand.

“No way, watch it later,” he took a few steps back and went around the sofa to put some distance between him and Mindy, only because he knew Mindy would stay put, choosing to wisely use her energy.

Mindy snorted at that. “No way, dude,” but she was grinning, clearly not annoyed by their usual argument.

Chad was about to say he was the one with the remote, hence he held the power, but his phone rang and he looked over the sofa to see who was calling him. Mindy already grabbed it and handed it to him.

“It’s Wes,” she said and while he was picking up took the chance and stole the remote from him.

“Hey, give that back!” Chad complained.

“Chad,” Wes’ sounded like he was on the verge of tears and the remote was almost instantly forgotten.

“Hey, pal, what’s wrong?” Chad asked, worried, he rarely heard Wes this distraught, and Mindy noticed his tone as well, as her victorious grin dropped.

“It’s Tara. She- she was attacked, Chad, she was stabbed seven times in her own home. Doctors are fighting for her life as we speak,” Wes wasn’t making any sense, Tara was stabbed? Doctors were fighting for her life? He must have gotten high or drunk or something.

No. This was Wes. He rarely drank any alcohol and he most certainly never got high.

“Does,” he swallowed the lump in his dry throat. “Does anyone else know?”

“No, I’ll call Amber, you, you handle Y/N, please,” Wes told him and Chad felt dread fill him up.

There was a reason why he’d choose to tell Amber and not you. Amber was Tara’s girlfriend, sure, and she’d take it hard, she’d be worried, she’d rush to the hospital and stay by Tara’s side. You on the other hand, you’d be a tempest of rage and grief and fear. Sure, you and Tara weren’t close these past few months, but it was just a small, temporary break, you were still Tara’s Guard Dog, and you didn’t protect her.

Chad had no doubt in his mind that you’d be a hound, hunting down whoever hurt Tara and making them regret going after Tara.

“I’ll call her,” Chad still promised, and he’d call you.

Wes thanked him and hung up, his voice cracking near the end.

“Chad?” Mindy walked over to him and wiped his cheeks, and only then did Chad realize he was crying as well.

“Tara was stabbed, Wes doesn’t know if she’ll live,” he whispered, breaking down and hugging Mindy. He cried against her shoulder while she tried to stay strong for them both. The remote, the TV argument, it all remained forgotten.

~X~

At half past eleven p.m. you were back in your apartment, ready to sleep, even though it evaded you. You were just lying on your bed and staring at the ceiling. That bad feeling, that worry, it came back while you were wrapping up your shift at the restaurant you worked in.

You abruptly sat up when your phone rang, and you just stared at Chad’s name for a few moments. The bad feeling intensified in an instant. Chad rarely called, especially this late.

“Hey,” you pushed the feeling back, you were just paranoid for no reason. After all, what could possibly go wrong?

“Hey, Y/N,” the shakiness of his voice nearly made you drop your phone.

Just stay calm, that’s what you kept repeating to yourself as your heart drummed against your chest. “What’s wrong?”

“Wes just called. Tara, she-“ the pause he made when he took a deep breath to collect himself was deafening. “she was attacked. Stabbed seven times. She’s at the hospital.”

He was wrong.

He wasn’t.

It couldn’t have happened to Tara.

It did.

The world and time itself stopped, everything stopped. You wanted to scream, but you couldn’t, you just went through the motions as you grabbed your jacket and car keys. “Thanks,” before you understood what was happening you were already outside your apartment. “I’m heading there now.”

Move. Just get there. Just get to her. Just get to her. Just get to her. Those four words were on repeat in your mind like a chant. You couldn’t stop, not for a red light or anything else, you just kept going until you reached the hospital. Wes’ mom stopped you before you could enter the hospital.

“Easy, Y/N, breathe,” how distraught did you look if those were the first words she said to you.

“Tara, how is she?” nothing else mattered at the moment, not the worry in her eyes, not the weight pushing your body down, nothing but getting to Tara. The police would handle the attacker, so you only cared about how Tara was right now.

“She’ll live,” if you were capable of thinking clearly you’d find it ironic how such a short sentence shook you to your core for the second time in your life. And it was, ironically, the exact opposite of the first time, of the ‘he’s dead’ that broke you all those years ago. At the moment, though, you felt like you were being torn apart and pulled back together at the same time. She’ll live, Judy had told you, the reassurance brought some semblance of clarity to your mind, yet at the same time the simple fact that she needed to clarify that made you feel like you were drowning.

“Y/N, where were you between nine and ten p.m.?” the question barely registered in your mind as you leaned back against the wall and took several deep breaths.

“Work. Woodsbo-Restaurant,” when did your voice become so hoarse? The need to just get inside and find Tara was almost overwhelming but a part of you, the last rational bit of you, managed to keep you rooted to the spot just until Judy told you to get going. Trying to force your way inside would only delay you reaching Tara.

Judy sighed and pulled you into the hospital. “Come on, I’ll take you to her room.”

She guided you through the dark, cold halls, going past the reception and up the stairs to where Tara hopefully was. You were barely aware of the few nurses stopping to look at you, as if surprised by what they were seeing. You didn’t care. None of that mattered at the moment.

You promised you’d do something nice for her and Wes when Tara recovered. Not before that though, you needed to prioritize. And prioritize you did as you walked through the doors to Tara’s room. Your vision became blurry as you looked at her. Still. Pale from blood loss. Attached to medical equipment. You didn’t even realize it when your legs gave out and you crumbled to your knees. All the fighting, all the hits you took, all the times you were struggling to get up, it all paled in comparison to this feeling. The sight in front of you weighed you down so hard you couldn't even struggle to get back up. For the second time in your entire life, you felt like you couldn't move, like nothing could make you move. Tara's steady breathing was the only reason you managed to keep your own breathing steady.

“Tara?” you breathed out, trying to will her to open her eyes and look at you, to show you she’d be fine, but she didn’t. She just laid there, completely still.

“Y/N!” Judy’s shout felt distant, but you felt her touch on your shoulder.

Your slightly parted mouth closed, jaw clenching so hard you would later wonder how you didn’t crack any of your teeth. In the whirlpool of emotions, you clung to the one that was just arising, anger. “Did you catch whatever did this to her?” the anger burned through your veins. You wanted to hurt whoever did this to her.

“No, whoever did this to her fled. Tara told us it was someone dressed like a Ghostface,” anger turned to wrath. Whatever attacked Tara, that something wearing a damn Ghostface costume, was still out there, free. Oh, you knew violence, and fighting was how you made a living and that was all the difference. You fought in a controlled environment, against a willing and often just as capable opponent, the purpose was to win. Something that attacked Tara was different, the exact opposite, so as tears fell down your face and you clenched your fists a single thought ran through your mind. Ghostface better hope the police catches it.

An irrational part of you thought you should've been there with her. A more rational side argued you haven't spent a night with Tara since four months ago. Another rational argument was that you were at work when the attack happened, so you wouldn't be able to do anything even if you made plans to spend the night at her place. The irrational part argued back that it was supposed to be your day off, so in a perfect world, you would be there to keep her safe.

The world wasn't perfect, but the irrational part of you still kept winning as you got stuck in the loop of what-ifs, regrets, and guilt.

Judy squeezed your shoulder and you looked at her, and she was startled, pulling her hand away from you and taking a step back. The pure, unrestrained wrath you felt must have been clear in your eyes. “We’ll catch the one responsible,” Judy promised you as she regained her composure.

You just nodded, getting up from the cold hospital floor and sitting down on the bed next to Tara’s, clearly not willing to leave her side. And Judy understood that, as you vaguely heard her tell some nurses to not even try to separate you from Tara.

For the next twelve hours, the only sound you properly and consistently registered was the heart rate monitor beeping to the rhythm of Tara’s heartbeat. You didn’t speak, you didn’t even look at Tara, you just sat there, hands dangling between your knees and head hung low. The sound calmed you down, it assured you Tara would be fine. It also made you a bit more accepting of doctors and nurses, so when they entered you just observed their every move like a hawk instead of, well, whatever the less appropriate alternative was. Frankly, you weren’t sure what that alternative was, but you knew careful observation was a better option.

A groan shattered the silence and you jumped to your feet only to kind of freeze, not sure of what, if anything, you should do. Tara’s eyes opened slowly and the tension in your body just began fading as her eyes met yours. She blinked a few times, likely confused and still under the effects of the pain killers.

“Y/N,” the sound of her voice, or rather how hoarse it was finally got you to move as you filled a glass of water and helped her take a couple of sips.

“Easy, I got you,” you dropped down to one knee, opting to as gently as you possibly could brush your fingers against the back of her right hand.

Tara looked around, taking in the hospital room she was in, and then her eyes widened, her heart rate sped up, as did her breathing as she frantically looked around for any signs of danger.

“Tara! Tara you’re safe!” you jumped to your feet and cradled her cheek, getting her to look at you. “Okay? You’re safe,” you whispered as her eyes locked with your own, searching for something, anything to cling on to, to anchor herself to and calm down, and she did find it. Her heartbeat gradually normalized as the two of you just remained like that, frozen, with your hand on her cheek, and your left hand gently holding her right hand.

A sob tore through Tara’s throat as she tried to take your hand. “Please, don’t leave me,” she cried out, her eyes filled with fear and yet to be shed tears.

“I won’t. I swear I won’t,” and you’d be damned if you broke that oath. You moved your hand and wiped the tears off her face and Tara, still sobbing, leaned into your touch. You wanted to hug her, to hold her, to never let her go, but you were afraid you’d hurt her. “You’re stuck with me until you tell me to leave,” that brought a small smile to Tara’s face and you found yourself smiling back, caressing her cheek.

“Could you help me sit up?” she whispered, still weak, fearful, but reassured that you wouldn’t leave her.

You nodded and carefully moved her. You weren’t absolutely certain about your approach, but you still wrapped your left arm around Tara’s shoulders and gently helped her sit up. Tara leaned back before you could move and rested the back of her head on your left shoulder. You were about to speak but Tara turning her head and looking at you, mere inches away from your face kept your mouth shut. “Let me stay like this for a bit? Please?”

Was it uncomfortable? Definitely. You were sort of leaning back and you could feel your muscles, still somewhat sore from the fight and lack of proper rest, ached a bit as you committed to staying still. Could you make it even more physically uncomfortable? Yes. Would you do it? If Tara let you, you most certainly would. So you moved your left arm to hug Tara from behind, sort of, it was more like letting your left arm rest beneath her neck to avoid her injuries. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” she closed her eyes, relaxing and just for a moment it felt like everything was fine, like everything was the way it was a few months ago when you would spend countless hours watching movies or shows and Tara would unavoidably end up in your arms. The bubble the two of you created, the illusion of everything being as it should burst the moment Tara accidentally moved her broken leg and winced. “Did they catch him?” she asked, fear and panic once again overtaking her. The heart rate monitor’s beeping getting faster just offered you concrete proof of how much the idea of her attacker not being caught yet affected her.

“Not as far as I know,” and you knew. Despite not leaving the room you did your best to stay informed and as of half an hour ago, there were no news of Ghostface, or anyone really, being caught.

Tara buried her face in the crook of your neck. “I’m so scared Y/N,” she whispered, exhausted to the point of not even having the strength to cry anymore.

“I’m here. I won’t let it hurt you again,” if Tara noticed your refusal to refer to Ghostface as a human being she didn’t comment on it, she just leaned further into your touch. The beeping of the heart rate monitor slowed down and you felt and heard Tara’s breathing getting even. As exhausted as she was you weren’t surprised she fell asleep once again.

Tara didn’t tell you to move, or even to let her go, so you didn’t. Aching muscles be damned. That being said, your own exhaustion made it difficult to keep your eyes open and despite the position you were in you still fell asleep for the first time in roughly thirty hours.

~X~

Tara woke up to the smell she came to associate with you, a soft scent that didn’t trigger her asthma, a scent that was quintessentially you, and it felt so right. The feel of your arms around her, keeping her safe, the sound of your breathing near her ear, keeping her calm. Your warmth, your strength, you. For a moment Tara even forgot what happened, but then she raised her left hand and saw the bandages and it all came back.

The knife piercing her flesh, the boot breaking her leg, the pain… The fear. The helplessness! She was all alone and all she could see was that mask, that figure, that knife through her palm. All she could hear was that voice, the security system repeating that her systems were disarmed, the knife going inside her stomach and back. All she could smell was blood, her blood.

She frantically looked around, her eyes wildly looking for any signs of danger, and then, as if you instinctively knew something was wrong you tightened your grip on Tara. Tara’s eyes widened as she turned her head toward you, as she watched your closed eyes and melted into your touch. The sound of your breathing overtook the sound of Ghostface attacking her. Your warm touch replaced the cold knife. Your scent pushed the scent of blood to the back of Tara’s head. Right then and there you were all Tara could feel.

Tara got her breathing under control, she felt her heartbeat calming down, she relaxed. You were with her. You wouldn’t leave her. You wouldn’t let anyone harm her. You didn’t abandon her, Amber was wrong. Tara now knew that without a doubt. You were here with her, you spent who knows how long watching over her, you did what Amber didn’t. You came when Tara needed you. Despite everything that happened to her, Tara felt safe, you made her feel safe. And she smiled, letting sleep take over once again, at least until a doctor or a nurse came.

~X~

The sleep didn’t last nearly enough to get you back to a hundred percent as not even two hours after you fell asleep you felt fingers brushing against your cheek.

Your entire body felt stiff as a board, and you had to bite back a groan at how uncomfortable you felt right now.

“Y/N, you’ll get stiff like that,” there was a tiny hint of amusement in Tara’s voice, and like the hopelessly in love sucker you were you thought it was completely worth it.

“You think?” you smirked a bit and finally managed to open your eyes and look at her, she was no longer as pale as she was last night, but she still looked tired.

“I sent a text to Amber,” Tara said, making it clear she was awake for some time. Her phone was in her lap, and you definitely didn’t give it to her so someone else was here while you were sleeping.

“Damn, how come I didn’t wake up?” you groaned. So much for keeping her safe, you were so tired you didn’t even wake up until she touched your cheek.

“I do have that effect on you,” and the playful teasing was back. Good. She was messing with you and for once you would let her do it. Also, well, you couldn’t really deny it, you did have a heavier sleep when Tara was with you.

“Yeah, let me get up before Amber sees those effects you speak of,” alright, maybe you couldn’t completely let her off the hook for teasing you. The beeping sped up again, not by much, but seeing as you were listening to that beeping for half a day you could tell the difference.

“Amber isn’t here,” there wasn’t any anger or any other negative emotion in Tara’s voice, but between her words, the additional acceleration of her heartbeat, and the way she was looking at you, you could understand the unspoken half of that sentence. You were here.

A/N: And the reader can cook, because why not. Tara shall get spoiled with good food! Anyway, this is moving a bit slowly, so I’m hoping to make the next chapter longer.

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter #scream #jenna ortega x reader

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thechaoticdruid · 4 months

Text

[This Bites] (1)

Pairing: Astarion x F! Chubby! MC

Plot: Through some mysterious and very miraculous events, a young woman finds herself literally stuck with a character from her current video game obsession. You can guess it already. It's an isekai type fanfic. Except in this case Astarion is stuck in our modern world. I was gonna call the MC Tav, but since the actual game character Tav is mentioned I just named her Winnie.

Content Warnings: Death….sorta, An asshole of a stepdad, MC uses She/Her pronouns, eventual smut and sexual content in future parts. Characters may be Ooc, grammar/spelling mistakes are possible. MC has very low self esteem. Depressed MC.

Chapter One: You are here!

Chapter Two: Here!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

“Argh I knew something would go wrong with this game!” The female huffed, staring down at her computer. Her eyes scanned over the error message titled ‘Character not found.’ She gritted her teeth in frustration. “God forbid I try mods….”

The young woman groaned, shutting her laptop and falling back onto the bed. Apparently after finally installing a cheat mod onto Baldur's Gate 3 the game decided to retaliate and locked her out of her save files. She couldn't even create a new character either! The same ‘Character not found’ message seemed to pop up no matter what she did. The girl’s name was Winnie, a college student in her early twenties who was still living at home. Not too long ago Winnie had gotten the game upon release. She'd played it several times since then and even yet was still able to find some hidden secrets she didn't notice the first time. Honestly this game had really helped with her current state. Life had just been dull and miserable. All her friends had moved on and had their own lives now and she really wasn't the best at making new ones.

She had a dull boring job, did online writing classes and also had to put up with the asshole her mother married. This game had been a godsend for her these past few months. It gave her an escape. A way to be someone else, at least for a little while anyway.

Not to mention live out her somewhat cringey teenage girl fantasy of dating a walking red flag of a vampire. In this game she felt important. Like she was some badass heroine who was ready to take on any foe. Not the shy, scared, awkward woman who she saw in the mirror.

Her cat Maddie broke Winnie from her thoughts as she hopped up onto the bed and crawled onto the young woman's chest. Winnie ran her hand over the cat's thick fluffy black fur. Maddie gave a small mew before purring noisily and gently kneading her claws into Winnie’s chest.

Winnie sighed, scratching the sides of Maddie's face as she was soothed by the feline’s pur.

“WINNIE! GET YOUR ASS IN HERE!!” A gruff male voice shouted from the other room, causing Maddie to jump and scramble off of Winnie and hide under the bed.

The brunette haired girl sighed and got up, walking out of the room and cautiously stepping down the hall.

“Yes, Brian?” Winnie spoke up as she entered the kitchen. She looked over to see her stepfather stumbling about. Brian was a rather large man with short dark hair and beard. He was well….very unpleasant.

“Where are the goddamn car keys?” He growled out.

“Dunno, I don't drive.” Winnie said calmly as she leaned up against the wall, “mom probably put them somewhere. Check the coffee table by the recliner.”

Brian stomped off, a tiny tan fluff of a dog following after him. He grabbed the keys before walking back into the kitchen.

“I'm going to the store. Keep that stupid cat of yours in your room! It keeps shitting all over the carpet!”

“I've told you over and over. Maddie only goes in the litter box. It's your dog that keeps making a mess in the house because you don't take him outside when he needs to go.” Winnie rolled her eyes.

“Don't fucking talk back to me! You're lucky your mother lets you stay here, if it was up to me you'd have been kicked out of here a long time ago.” Brain snapped, making Winnie flinch a little at his tone. “Now make sure the trash is taken out before I get back.” He said before stomping out the front door and slamming it behind him. Winnie flinched once again at the loud sound before letting out a sigh and pulling the trash out of the can despite the fact that she distinctly remembered her mother telling Brian to take it out this morning.

Winnie took out the trash before coming back inside heading back to her room. Her eyes scanned over her laptop as Maddie crawled out from under the bed. She walked back over and opened the device, logging herself on before attempting to open her game back up.

[Character not found.]

Winnie groaned before filling out a bug report and then putting her computer up. She needed to get ready and go to work anyway.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~

A few days had passed and nothing seemed to work. Winnie had disabled and deleted all the mods, sent in about a dozen but reports and still nothing. The only thing left she could try now was uninstalling the game and then reinstalling it.

Winnie sat on the bed waiting patiently for the game to download though she knew it would at least take an hour. She pulled out her cellphone, noticing a text from her mother. The message was informing Winnie that Brian and her mom wouldn't be home until late tonight. At least this meant she'd have plenty of peace and quiet in the meantime. The young woman spread out on her bed, stretching her limbs before slowly closing her eyes, resting lazily.

Time passed as she slowly dozed off…Eventually she was awoken by the sound of beeping? It was some strange noise that she couldn't quite put her finger on. She quickly looked over to her laptop and her eyes widened as she noticed it seemed to be going crazy. Blinking and beeping.

“What the fuck!?” She exclaimed, grasping her computer and frantically clicking the mousepad.

Then the screen went black before seemingly returning to the home screen. However, everything on the computer was gone save for one shortcut. Baldur's Gate 3.

The game’s shortcut sat in the very center of the computer, practically screaming at Winnie to click on it. She clicked it and the game opened up.

Everything seemed to go as normal up until the title screen. Winnie’s eyes widened in shock as she noticed all of the menu options were gone aside from (New Game). She raised an eyebrow before clicking on the only option available and waiting as the opening cinematic played. Everything continued as it usually did. Winnie created her Tav, a human druid with an urchin background, then proceeded to hop into the game.

Winnie did a bit of a speed run, moving through the Nautiloid as quickly as she could. She recruited Us, Lae'zel and freed Shadowheart before reaching the helm and crashing the ship.

Upon reaching the ravaged beach was when things began to get strange.

The game buffered and blinked a bit, skipping the scene where Tav would check themselves out followed by some voiced narration. Tav was kinda just there on the beach.

“Oh God. The game is glitching….” Winnie whined. She sighed in annoyance before clicking on the ground where she wanted Tav to walk. Winnie REALLY did not feel like uninstalling the game and waiting another hour to try again so she decided she'd play for as long as the game would allow. Winnie had Tav wander over towards where Shadowheart would normally be laying after crash, only to find an empty space where the half elf should be. Winnie groaned assuming it was another glitch before continuing on along the beach. While most things were there like the dead bodies and the intellect devourer enemies, Winnie did not see any sign of Shadowheart at all. Not even near the ruins where she'd be if she wasn't rescued by the player. Winnie decided to quickly go and look for the other characters, sneaking her way past the little brain creatures and moving down the path where Astarion, the elven rogue companion, would be waiting to ambush the player. He was Winnie’s favorite. She had a soft spot for sassy morally grey characters with tragic backstories. And he was also secretly a vampire to boot which just added to the appeal. Winnie had her Tav approach the area before she let out a sigh of relief seeing as the vampiric elf was in his starting area shouting for help like normal. At least the game wasn't completely broken.

“Hurry I've got one of those brain things cornered.” Astarion’s dialogue began as soon as Tav got close enough to interact with him. “There in the grass, you can kill it can't you? Like you killed the others?”

“Uh….I kinda actually didn't kill any of them…Heheh.” Winnie chuckled before dragging her mouse over the dialogue choices.

1. [Easily, stand back.]

2. Kill it yourself. You seem capable.

3. Leave

Winnie clicked on choice 1 before her Tav walked over to check the tall grass for the intellect devourer that was actually non-existent.

Instead a wild boar leapt from the grass and made Tav jump in surprise, giving Astarion the perfect opportunity to strike. He pinned the druid to the ground, pressing a dagger to her neck.

“Shhh…Shhh….Not a sound…Not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours.” The vampire practically purred out. Winnie blushed, a shiver going down her spine. There was a reason she always found herself choosing the elven vampire as her character’s love interest. Initially when she first got the game she felt he came off as a pompous prick (which he is) but damn he was so fucking seductive. It drove Winnie absolutely mad. Not to mention it helped given he had sweet delicious character development later on in his story and actually could be kind of a sweetheart… To the player at least.

The romance in this game had to be Winnie’s favorite aspect of it. She was very romantically inexperienced to say the least and this just added to what made the game her perfect escape from reality. It made her feel like someone actually liked her. Winnie prepared to select the next dialogue choice when suddenly she noticed they had changed.

1. [……….]

2. ………..

3. ……….

4. ……….

She looked up and saw a smirk form on Astarion's lips, his eyes appeared as if he was staring back at Winnie from through the screen. Before she could speak Astarion slit Tav's throat and let them drop onto the ground.

“What. The. Fuck.” The brunette haired female went pale as she stared at her computer screen. Astarion sighed in what sounded like relief?

“Finally, we've done that old song and dance so many times! The novelty has completely worn off.” He stretched out his arms, before wiping his dagger on the ground. “It feels so invigorating to try something new, wouldn't you agree?”

“Uhh…..What's going on?” Winnie asked aloud. She was shaking a bit in both confusion and a little fear. Her character was kinda just laying on the ground dead…and Astarion was talking….to her!?

“Oh dear, it seems I've gone and frightened you. Ahaha!” Astarion chuckled before appearing to move closer to the screen, even going so far to place his hand on it…

“Hello darling…”

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futbol16 · 1 year

Text

Hot chocolate • Barcelona Femení

I’m not super sure about this but I hope it manages to live up to your expectations!

Request: can we please get one with the barcelona fem team with this prompt for Y/N where they tell her ‘please, stay awake… please or promise us you’ll stay awake’, specifically from Ale and the older ones of the team

Word count: 2,5k

Your teeth chatter as you attempt to make yourself warmer on the bench of the locker room, your hands moving up and down your wet arms. It is half time and you watch as everyone dump their soaked shirts in the corner of the room and change into a new jersey.

The weather has been horrible, it’s been raining cats and dogs and the chill of the late evening only added to it. As the match went on it became harder for your team to pretend like they weren’t shivering, much less try to stay up on their feet as the pitch turned into a water park.

You wipe a few strands of wet hair from your forehead as you tug on a dry shirt, the material almost instantly becoming damp.

“You okay Y/N/N?” Sandra speaks up from next to you and she drapes an arm over your shoulders inviting you to lean into her. You instantly accept the invitation as you cuddle up to her, your knees against her thigh as you hold onto the hand hanging over your shoulder.

“Just cold.” you lightly shrug, your eyes fluttering closed for a second. The rain and the crisp weather had tired you out more than a first half usually would and it was obvious your teammates felt the same.

“I know pequeña, but we’re winning and we’ll quickly wrap up this game. Then after we can all enjoy a sweet hot chocolate, okay? I’ll even get you marshmallows for it!” the goalkeeper grins down at you and presses a kiss to your temple as you smile at her words, already thinking of the reward you’d get.

Your attention is brought back to Alexia and Jonatan as they say a few encouraging words and Paños squeezes your hand one last time before the two of you get up to follow the rest out.

Barca are no longer overly worried about the scoresheet because they’re already 4-0 up from the first half and goals only come quicker in the second half, yourself also slotting in two more. Team spirits are high and as the happiness spreads warmth throughout your body you almost forget about the frosty weather. Although you want to forget about it, you can’t because every time you stop running to catch your breath you’re shivering, water is spilling into your eyes and your kit is drenched, rain dripping from it onto the ground below. At this point you’re not even thirsty, the sky having solved that issue of yours.

Frido eyes your form with concern as you attempt to wipe the water from your line of sight before you take off in a sprint after one of the Rosengard players. The Swede doesn’t seem to be as affected by the weather as everyone else and she uses this to her advantage on the field, managing to stay upright more times than the Spaniards.

The blonde’s eyes connect with those of Ingrid, the Scandinavian gesturing to one of the players marking you and as she turns back to the Norwegian she sees Alexia also nodding at her. There’s a pause in the game as Rosengard gets a throw in and Rolfö takes this moment as her advantage to run up to her captain.

“She’s marking Y/N heavily, I don’t know what happened but she’s really aggressive.” the brunette informs her as she keeps her eyes on the ball. Irene and some of the other girls have good control over the situation and so she allows herself to share her thoughts with the other two.

“She’s taken her out three times in the past ten minutes, she’s clearly going for Y/N/N instead of the ball” Ingrid speaks up from next to them, her eyes holding just as much anger and fire as the other two. Frido chews on her lip as the ball goes out again, a Rosengard player running after it.

“What do we do?”

“Nothing. We keep an eye on her, Ana’s been glaring down from the bench since the start of the game but I don’t know how long this could go on for” the captain speaks, her hands on her hips as she watches you wriggle out of your opponent's hold. Irritation is evident on your face as you slip her hand off your wrist and move away from her.

Alexia pats them both on the back as she takes her position again, leaving the other two. The ball is yet again being thrown in by Rosenard, it seems like the rain has made it harder for them to keep the ball in play.

You manage to get Öling off you and as you’re finally open for a pass Aitana sends the ball to you. You’re aware of the players and your teammates around you as you run off towards the goal and as more surround you to defend their net you cross the ball to Alexia. It lands right in front of her feet and it takes her one touch to direct it into the back of the net.

You’re just about to celebrate with her when you feel cleats connect with your shin, the bright red boots of Öling whose face is full of aggression and venom as she grits her teeth while sliding across the grass. You try to catch yourself to stay on your feet but the field is soppy and as your feet put themselves one after the other you know you’re bound to slip at one point. It seems almost never ending as you wobble and Öling watches from her seated position by the goal line as you topple over after your fourth step.

Your foot slips out from under you and you reach out into the air, almost as if you wanted to hold onto something before you go crashing into the advertising boards and the railing at the end of the pitch. Your ears are blaring and your head is pounding as you groan into your arm and you slowly roll over to your back as you blink away the rain from your eyes.

You're met with Alexia’s face whose eyes are blown with panic and worry as she places a hand on your arm. You can see her mouth moving but you can’t hear anything she’s saying.

You’re vaguely aware of more of the girls around you running in slow motion as they drop to their knees next to you and you breathe in deeply as you shut your eyes tight. You groan aloud as your senses come back and you’re slapped in the face by the concerned voices of your friends, a rush in their words. As you open your eyes you look around you, willing the dizziness not to consume you.

The Barca girls watch you with fright as you lay on the ground almost motionless with blood seeping out of your head and coating your shirt and the grass below you.

“Y/N/N, bebé? Can you hear me querida?” Alexia’s voice breaks through the noise and you focus on her, slowly nodding as you grimace at the movement. Alexia is quick to shush you as your purple lips start trembling, her head whipping up to look at the rest.

Ana is shouting for the medics as she keeps a hand on your thigh, a reassurance that you’re still there as she also keeps an eye on your difficulty to keep yours open, wiggling your eyebrows as the blood trickles down your forehead.

She hurries the medics on for a second before her voice quietens down and she keeps her gaze on you, sniffling at the sight in front of her.

“Irene, she's gonna fall asleep!” Alexia is full-on panicking as she takes your hand into her grasp, the other one moving to wipe the water from your eyes, or tears, she’s not sure.

You whimper in pain as flashes of pain stab at your head and you move your hand up to your forehead only to have it moved away by someone else. Frido keeps your hand close to her heart as she feels the energy slowly drain from you and your fingers weakening around hers.

Your line of sight is blocked by another blonde as Mapi kneels next to your head and the defender cradles your head as she presses her lips together, trying to stay strong for you.

“Ale, Ale please do something!” her voice comes out shakily as she takes a glance at the brunette next to her who looks just as distraught.

“Where the hell are the medics?!” Irene exclaims angrily as she looks over to the team’s bench which is now abandoned as the whole Barca team ran to your aid.

Your teammates around you can only watch you with sorrow as you wither in pain and exhaustion, many of the girls hiding their faces in their soaking shirts. They can’t bear to see you in such a state and stand there helplessly.

“It hurts so much” your broken whisper is heard by those closest to you and you let out a strained sob as you shut your eyes tightly. Tears flow freely as you succumb to the pain bit by bit and you barely even feel the blood sliding down the side of your face.

“I know, I know bebé. Just hold on for a little while, just a little, please” Alexia presses a kiss to the back of your hand and she looks over to Mapi next to her. The defender wipes your forehead as gently as she can, careful of the wound as she swipes the blood before it could reach your eyebrows and her shaky hands smooth your hair back. You try your hardest to focus on the comforting gesture, to take your mind off everything you’re feeling in this moment but it’s all too much and another pained gasp leaves your parted lips.

Your team’s hearts break at the sight and the sound, many leaning into each other for support and you feel Ana’s thumb rubbing your thigh.

“They’re almost here, they aren’t running because of the wet field!” Marta’s accusatory voice sends chills down Irene’s back as the two watch the medics hurrying towards the scene. Ingrid and Sandra are pushing away any of the Rosengard players trying to get closer and the Norwegian makes sure to shove Öling just a bit harder, her usual calm nature long replaced with a wild hatred towards the Finnish woman.

Mapi leans down to connect your foreheads as she keeps a hand just barely touching the top of your head. The defender swallows hard as she hears your ragged breathing, her hand that’s still cradling your face trembles against your skin.

“Alexia” she whispers as she watches your eyes close. Alexia’s eyes water and she tightens her hold on your hand as she feels it go limp.

“No, mi corazón, please, stay awake… please or promise us you’ll stay awake” she’s crying now, not even paying attention to the medics as they move the girls away from your other side and lay the stretcher next to your body.

The brunette tries and fails to stifle her cries with her hand as she clamps it over her mouth but she’s too far gone as she hears the sobs of your other teammates. Her gaze stays on your face and she feels her breathing stop as your eyes don’t open again.

“No, no cariño, por favor!” Mapi wails, her tears mixing with the rain still falling from the sky and she shoots a warning glare at the medic who attempts to move her hand from your head.

“NO, no! Leave her alone, please cariño open your eyes, come on just for me, please!” her sobs travel through the arena as Irene pulls her away from you and your team watches as you’re rolled into the stretcher and carried off the field.

Alexia is left kneeling on the ground as her eyes bore into the splotches of blood on the green grass, splotches of your blood. She feels a hand on her shoulder and she’s up on her feet in an instant as she pushes the hand off her.

“This is all your fault!” she shouts and violently shoves the Finnish midfielder who falls back in surprise. “Tu puta madre! Vete al infierno!” she spits at Öling who only stares at her in fear.

“Ale, Alexia” Frido and Marta reach for her but she swats their hands away as she stomps towards the tunnel, unable to hide her vulnerability as she cries into her shirt. The team follows her, all with tears flowing down their cheeks and they stop in their steps as they hear the sirens of the ambulance as it drives down the street.

Jonatan gently nudges them to keep moving, the team’s coach not hiding his own tears either.

“Get changed quickly, the bus will take us to the hospital” he informs the girls who nod at him gratefully and once in the locker room, they pull off their wet jerseys with a heavy feeling in their hearts.

Most of them stay silent as they stare into the abyss, clambering onto the team bus with their hairs dripping. Alexia and Mapi sit close together, unknowingly providing just that little bit of comfort for the other as the both of them keep their jaws clenched.

Alexia is thinking of the worst possibilities of what could happen to you as the bus takes off while Mapi fiddles with the strings of her hoodie, her hands still shaking and she stares at your now dried blood on her palms.

Paños chews on her nails anxiously until she remembers what she said to you during half time and her heart sinks to the bottom of her stomach.

“I promised her hot chocolate after the match, with marshmallows and everything” her strained voice echoes throughout the bus as she buries her face in her hands and the girls feel a fresh wave of tears hit them.

Ana throws her head back as she slides lower in her seat, rubbing at her face to not let the tears fall. The blonde isn’t the only one who has difficulty doing so because soon enough quiet cries break the silence as more of your friends lose their battle against their tears.

“She will be okay, she has to be okay and we’ll get her a big cup of hot chocolate when we get there. I’m telling you she will be fine by the time we get to her room, she will be sitting there impatiently waiting for us and immediately demanding her hot chocolate...She needs to be okay..” Caro speaks with hope as she attempts to bring some kind of comfort to the team, to assure them that you would be awake the next time they’d see you.

Some of the girls breathe a small sigh of relief as they imagine you doing everything the brunette just said, praying that is what will happen and that you will be happily sipping away your hot chocolate by the end of the night.

Mapi bites her tongue at the hearing of Caro's thoughts but Alexia doesn’t hold back as she grits through her teeth.

“How can you be so sure?!” Those words echo in the team’s head, all of them sitting in tense positions and biting their nails in worry as the bus drives them to the hospital you had been admitted to.

They can only hope and pray that Caroline would be right.

#barca femeni x reader #woso imagine #futbol16 #woso x reader

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luhafraser · 3 months

Text

Let me be clear: although many think I don't have a real life, I do. I'm not just a Tumblr account... I have a family, dogs and a cat. I'm currently recovering from bronchitis 😮‍💨🫁, and dealing with the school holidays 👧🏼🛝 and lots to do at work. 🤯🤯🤯 That's why I'm not at all sorry for being MIA... I have my priorities, my family and my health...

I've said it a few times... Sam and Cait's shitshow is just a pastime for me... So back off, nasty Anons... You're wasting your time here🖕😜

---

It's not a real timeline, but look at this amazing script... Brilliant... 😝🤣

1) Sam in London; 2) a "fan" says Sam was with a "female friend"; 3) Susie in London; 4) P's innuendos; 5) Susie posts latergrams in a hotel room and gym, it looks like one of rooms at the Firmdale hotels; 6) P says she won't publish without a real evidence 🤣; 7) Susie returns to her home; 8) Another "fan" says she saw Sam on a flight to Gran Canaria; 9) Sam shows himself in a mysterious room on IG Live; 10) Sam's small group of stalkers (surprisingly, they're not the evil shippers 😜🤣) certainly discover that it's not a room in a luxurious hotel (the kind Sam usually stays in) ***(Sam has people monitoring his online steps and who he follows on Instagram, etc... Nothing new there... But I'm curious how someone who isn't a fan gets "here"?! And this fandom have some here, they are not fans of Sam and Cait or Outlander. See below 😉); 11) P releases the name of the new blonde; 12) the current blonde posts several pics/videos showing some gym in Gran Canaria and an airbnb Villa; 13) Sam's voice appears in two of the blonde's videos; 14) B posts the blonde's airbnb Villa; 15) The war of the "queens of Mordor" begins (I don't believe anything about this war, but it's funny and keeps people entertained, just what SamCait and PR want); 16) B says that airbnb Villa is not the place where Sam did his Live; 17) B goes back on what she said, and shows that the male SH and the female SH are in the same Villa 🤣; 18) Chaos begins in the fandom; 19) Sam appears in Austria/Audi Ambassador stuff; 20) blonde posts with her son at her home (latergram... 🤦🏻‍♀️); 21) Ok... Susie, Sarah, who will be the next S? ⏰️

😜🤣

***⬇️

Script to look like James Bond... Women and cars... ?! 🤦🏻‍♀️😬 No, you are not Bond, Mr. Heughan... Sorry! 😝😂

---

But on the other hand...

You know.. I'm not on the "gay train", but hey... I can't blame anyone who thinks he's gay. And have you noticed how several women, linked to Sam, are always traveling to paradisiacal beaches or going to gyms with their gay friends... ?!? You don't even need to follow them on Instagram to know this, there are accounts here that posted everything about them... All that was missing was their blood type... 😝🤣

"Hawaiigate Oops Gran Canaria gate" didn't seem like a good script to prove that Sam occasionally has affairs with women... Even because the place is known for...

But, it certainly moves things around here... Just saying 🤷🏻‍♀️😂

---

OMG... Laughing a lot with #Samarah... 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

---

And Sam/PR decided to fix a flaw in the script and his speech, something that became a joke in this fandom, at least among shippers...

There are women in Glasgow, people! After 10 years, he finally had time to meet a woman there...

Amen 🙌

🤣🤣🤣

---

I find it very difficult for a taurus man, who calls himself a romantic, who is used to staying in hotels like those from the FS and Firmdale chains and who has already made this type of comment...

Taking his supposed girlfriend to a place with these reviews... 🤔😬😂

After 10 years, Sam knowing how this fandom is, being the guy who claims to preserve his loved ones, would he leave breadcrumbs for "fans" to create a new story if he was really dating this woman? I'm amazed that she, with a son, gets involved in this shitshow, but who will know her reasons.... Even Cait used her pregnancy and child in the Belfast promo.

---

Let's see if Sam will follow P's wishes and take Sarah to the TCND event... And let's pray 🙏.

I see THE RING 👰🏼‍♀️ #Samarah 🤣🤣🤣 This didn't even take 7 days, it seems! 🤣🤣🤣

---

I still spend my free time looking at what SamCait shows and what this fandom says because I want to see the end of this shit, when Sam no longer has P or B and his onlys... One day Sam and Cait will fall into oblivion and that's why that they keep feeding this whole circus... What, or rather, who would Sam and Cait be without all this crap? I think it's funny that Sam pulls all this on himself... Except during promo, he's the one who moves things around here (right now Gran Canaria gate, Austria trip, Scottish Sun article, a new company with an enigmatic name... It could be SDFGINEEDTHISSHITSHOWCVBN 😝🤣, "Audi Quattro",...). But to me... This seems like something from someone protecting their loved ones, taking on all the shit for himself. Although, every now and then Cait needs to show that she is alive and with her husband by her side.

I watch and wait... And I know I'm not alone in this! 🧘🏻‍♀️😜

#sam heughan #caitriona balfe #sam and caitriona #outlander #shit show #fake life #it's a shitshow #fandom #outlander fandom

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sol-kha-ne-lubri-if · 10 months

Text

Sol-kha-ne-Lubri

Rational is to Irrational as Irrational is to Rational. Then again, in this land, Rational is to Rational as Irrational is to Irrational, and Positives are to Negative as Negative is to Compromise; This ways are that ways, one ways are other ways. This way, that, here, over there, which way is true and what way leads fair?

Your home land is odd– a rarity, that much is a given, but even in a land of all that is odd and irregular, that doesn’t stop unhidden exclusivity in the form of a certain acceptance letter for which you had been ridden.

Welcome to Sol Kha-ne Lubris, even the richest royal families couldn’t pay their way into these academy walls.

There are two sides to every coin, parallel lines that are never meant to meet. But since when have the dreamscapes every been one to abide by those rules?

You play as... You, or-- well, more accurately, you play as the ever-fantastic you, a regular in a realm of oddity and circumstance, a wonderful, enigmatic you who has just been offered acceptance into the most prestigious magical academy in the dreamscape.

And as you... You guide yourself, both physically and mentally, though the halls of this new school, making allies and (possibly) starring in a very casual(?) school romance with the next generation’s elite.

۞ Play as a being of your choice, whether male, female, neither and all, no one would dare step on your shoes without being respectful of how you are called.

۞ Have your ancestry come from a land of riches, or a land of the cymbal waeves? the Victorian ages or the age of industrialism? Whether you live in a forest, a mountain, the skies or the oceans, the academy’s exclusivity is not limited to where your birth is.

۞ Care you for dolls? For stars? For royal romances? a group of 6 students are susceptible no matter how you play your advances.

۞ Do you excel in history and language, or the art of alchemy, or physical prowess. The academy accommodates all sorts of knowledge, so no need to fret. Should you excel in none of them, then how strange that your acceptance had been granted without need for background process…

۞ Dreamers are those who walk through your lands and think of it all as fantastical. However, one familiar dreamer in particular seems quite lost. Do you truly care for them as an equal despite your otherworldly hailing, or will you show that keeping them alive comes at a hefty cost?

ღ Dottie Hendrix, The Almighty: Entitled, egotistical, and ethereal, Dottie is the top dog at this school with the intelligence to back it up. For your sake, you best hope she finds you fun to keep her company.

ღ Ambrose Hendrix, The Lapdog: Loyal to one and only one. He isn’t afraid to use whatever means possible to ensure the safety of his allegiance, even if it means using his siblings and cousins.

ღ Loriette Kei, The Cheshire Cat: A mercenary in their own right, they work from the shadows that share the same color as their primary source power, eyes always watching, smile never waning.

ღ Lorelei Kei, The Plague Doctor: Keeping her eyes downcast but ears sharp and senses keen, they seem to have the answer for any ail that may befall you, but do you dare keep your eyes open during her procedure?

ღ Nadia, Half a whole kingdom: Birds of a feather flock together, one half of a whole. The supposed “naughty” to the “nice”, be as kind to him as you want, she has their own standards on who keeps her graces.

ღ Noré, Half a whole government: Birds of a feather flock together, one half of a whole. The supposed “nice” to the “naughty”, but is he good enough to keep in your circle of trustees?

⚜⚜ ☾ ⚜⚜ ☾ ⚜⚜ ♔ ⚜⚜ ☽ ⚜⚜ ☽ ⚜⚜

DEMO https://dashingdon.com/go/13924

#interactive story #interactive fiction #IF #if wip

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myosotisa · 7 months

Text

Old Heart - Part 4 - Build

‖ chapter summary: Following the destruction of Memphis, you and Eddie make your way to the spot where he is set to hand you off for the final leg of your journey to Colorado.

‖ tags: enemies to lovers, age gap (41 and 25), forced proximity, slow burn, angst, hurt/comfort, HEA, "zombie" apocalypse, reader uses she/her pronouns, no y/n, no physical description given, minors dni

‖ chapter warnings: grief and the tumultuous emotions included. abandonment issues. mentions of untreated terminal illness (cancer). implied/referenced suicide (very implied, not graphic). animal death and using it in a meal. also alcohol.

‖ word count: 11k

‖ prev ‖ ao3 ‖ masterlist ‖ tag list request ‖ next ‖

August 18th through 23rd, 2016 – somewhere in Arkansas

You only make the mistake of asking Eddie to talk about Memphis twice.

The first time was Thursday night after the two of you had settled into a place to sleep that seemed secure enough for both of you to sleep through the night. He’d assisted you with changing the bandages on your wound with the supplies him and Max had managed to scrape together while you had been catatonic. It was vague – more of an offer that if he wanted to talk to you about it, you were there for him. He’d bitten back with a harsh retort that there was nothing to talk about before rolling over and pretending to go to sleep.

Progress had been slow as you trekked across the state together due to your injury. You felt tired faster, found yourself pushing to keep going until you got so dizzy you almost fell over, then had to take a rest before you did the same thing all over again. Eddie never once complained about the pace but you could tell the sitting and waiting for you to be ready to move again was weighing on him. He would anxiously pace while you sat, or make an excuse about going to make sure the perimeter was clear and disappearing for 15 minutes at a time. The first leg of your trip he was standoffish and closed off but, ever since Max left, he’s been fully avoidant. Not wanting to get into situations where he would have time to stop and think.

Running away from silence and stillness like he had a bounty on his head.

When you ask again if he wants to talk about anything that happened in Memphis, he doesn’t snap. He barely responds at all. He sits there in the moonlight with one leg kicked out and the other bent up with his arms crossed on it. There’s a far off look in his eye despite his gaze being firmly settled on his boot. Dark shadows are cast along his features that make the circles under his eyes seem more sunken and his jawline more defined. A shadow of himself in the dark.

“Who’s Sally?”

The question catches you off guard, your legs crossing under you as you lean back against a dusty bookshelf in the dark room. “Sorry?”

“When we were leaving Louisville, you told–” His voice is soft and ragged – it catches on the word and he has to clear his throat to keep going. “You told Dustin to ‘get home safe to Sally.’ I didn’t know he was seeing anyone.”

You’re not able to contain the amused snort that forces itself out of your nose and you notice that the silhouette of his head whips toward you in response. Quick to explain, you tell him, “Sally is a German Shepherd. She lives on the farm with Dustin and Will.”

“Ah,” is his short response. You think maybe that will be the end of it but a few moments later he’s talking again. “His mom was a cat lady. He liked the cats, but I always kinda got the feeling he was a dog person. So that’s, uh… That’s nice to hear.”

“Yeah, he’s obsessed with her. Talked about her almost as much as you on the trip there.”

This makes him huff, a quick exhale of breath. You wish you could see his face – figure out if that was a good noise or a bad one. For not the first time, you find yourself wishing you knew what he was thinking.

“I had a cat for a little while.”

His confession has you suddenly on the edge of your seat and you struggle to rein yourself in. Try not to think about how excited it makes you to hear him let a little fact about himself like that slip free. Carefully, keeping your tone neutral like you’re trying not to spook a wild animal, you ask, “Oh yeah? What was their name?”

You’re surprised when he actually answers. “My uncle named her Mimzy. Stupid fuckin’ name,” he complains, though it comes out through a chuckle. “Then again, the cat was dumb as a brick so I guess the punishment fit the crime.” You spend a few moments considering if you should ask more questions to try to keep him talking but he does so on his own. “She lived under our trailer when I was in high school. Was just fur and bone when I started throwing scraps outside for her to eat. ‘Course she stuck around after that. Even though I was the one who started feeding her, she always preferred Wayne. Would rub all over his legs when he got back from the plant in the morning after ignoring me all night. Though she was a fan of mine for a while when I saved her dumbass while trying to fight a raccoon.”

Still not quite sure how to handle this situation in which Eddie is willingly talking about himself, you fall back on humor. “Trying to fight a raccoon is a rookie mistake. They have fully functioning fingers. A cat stands no chance.”

This time the huff he lets out is definitely amused and you find yourself warming under the approval. “I’m just glad she didn’t get rabies or something from the thing.”

While it feels a bit like pushing your luck, you take another metaphorical step closer by offering up some bits of your own. “We had a dog when I was a kid. Yappy little terrier named Lola.” He doesn’t move to interrupt you so you push your luck a little further. “I was always more of a cat person but my dad fucking hated them for some reason, so I was never allowed to have one.”

“Didn’t get one when you had the chance?” He asks, and it makes you hesitate.

Not sure if he forgot how young you were or if he meant something else, you are reluctant to remind him. Despite the worry that it's the wrong move, you still awkwardly answer. “Well, I was only 13 when everything went to shit. And they didn’t want animals on the base so… No.”

Silence falls like a blanket of thick snow. It feels fuzzy and heavy. You immediately try to figure out how you can reel the words back into your mouth, say literally anything else that would keep him talking. Keep the silence from creeping in like hands around your throat.

“I forgot,” he’s borderline whispering now and you can barely hear it over the buzzing in your ears. “Can’t imagine how fucked up it was to go through that as a kid.”

You shrug even though he can’t see it, feeling that captive piece of you starting to pace behind its bars again, looking for the first sign of weakness to lunge. “About as fucked as it was for everyone else, I guess.”

“Yeah… Guess so.” The moment sits heavy on you both before the sound of leather on polyester hisses in the empty air. There’s a lot of shuffling from his side of the room and you see the shadows of him settling down on his sleeping bag. You take that as your sign that he’s done talking.

A small part of you thinks about telling him goodnight. You decide to stop while you’re ahead.

The next 3 nights go similarly. When you’ve both found some abandoned place to sleep, he helps you change your bandages. Looks out for signs of it getting infected and lets you know if it seems to be healing or not. When your cobbled together sling gives out, he rips apart his white overshirt to make you a new one despite your protests that you can manage without. Once your arm is settled and you’ve both eaten at least a little bit of something, you start talking. Not much, maybe 15 minutes to half an hour. But those sacred minutes allow you to learn more little facts about Eddie. Never anything related to Memphis or life during the pandemic. It’s all things from before.

He had the same flannel shirt in 3 different colors because he just really liked how it looked on him. A part of him always wanted to get into fixing up motorcycles in his free time. He also used to enjoy drawing and playing fantasy games with his friends. He learned to play guitar when he was a kid from an old 6 string that his uncle had but never used. 90% of his tattoos were from before, only two being added to the mix over the last 13 years. Not for lack of wanting – more like lack of resources and not trusting those who had set up “shops” these days to do stick and pokes. On that note, his first two tattoos were stick and pokes he did himself in high school.

You drank all the information like sugar water for a fly – desperate to be filled even if it wasn’t the way you were hoping it would be. Even if it didn’t end anywhere, even if it didn’t help either of you. It was something.

In a world where everything felt like a luxury, vulnerability was the rarest among them.

Evening of August 23rd, 2016 – Three Corners, Cherokee Nation, Oklahoma

The last hour or so of your hike through the middle of nowhere has been dirt roads and wooden fences that barely remain standing on the dusty roadsides. While you have questioned him once or twice, Eddie is determined that he knows exactly where he’s going. That he’s made this trip before, could do it blindfolded. And, with the sun quickly sinking toward the western horizon, all you can do is hope he’s right.

As you kick your way through orange dirt roads covered with rocks and tree limbs, the ruined fencing to your right starts to slowly be replaced with newer wood – better maintained and more sturdy. Further beyond, the wooden beams are replaced by a chain link fence that rises a foot or two above your head. This looks even newer, barely rusted and without any cuts or weak points. Despite being far from anything you would even attempt to call civilization, it seems that you are getting closer to something someone is caring for.

You don’t realize that you’re lagging behind, distracted and exhausted, until Eddie looks back over his shoulder. “We’re almost there, Bambi. Just a little farther.”

Not sure if he means to be encouraging or condescending, you decide to take the opportunity to talk again. Maybe if you can focus on that instead of your sore muscles and swollen arm, you can pass the rest of the time easily. “Y’know, calling me Bambi is kind of fucked up.”

He stops, slowly turning toward you with concern and confusion on his brow. He waits for you to catch up before continuing on with you in step. “How exactly is it fucked up?”

“Y’know, because both of my parents are dead now.”

He chokes on air, a hacking laugh forcing itself out of his throat. His eyes are shining with a certain mischief in them, one you haven’t seen since Memphis. “First of all, that’s so fucking dark, Bambi.” You blink at him a few times, not understanding exactly what he means. He continues on, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Second of all, I don’t know if you noticed, but a lot of people’s parents are dead.”

You scoff, shaking your head and looking back out to the road as you murmur, “Asshole.”

“Third of all,” he continues, ignoring your retort, “I’m pretty sure we started calling you Bambi because you’re going out into the world for the first time on your shaky legs; eyes wide and unsure. Not because your parents are dead.”

The realization hits you harshly, suddenly embarrassed for your own morbid assumption. “Oh,” is all you muster, teeth clenching as you try to shake off the fumble. “I am not on shaky legs. I’ve been in the world this whole time, same as everyone.”

“Sorry, but I don’t think your tall ivory walls of government protection count as ‘out in the world’.” He goads, almost sounding pleased with himself. Either not at all catching on to how the assertion frustrates you, or not caring that it does. “We didn’t all get our 3 square meals a day or access to clean water whenever we wanted it.”

The boil in your blood mounts higher – hotter than it’s ever been in his direction. While at the beginning of your journey, you’d been annoyed with his attitude toward you, this is entirely different. This is him taking a knife to where it hurts and twisting it just to watch you bleed. White hot blood you’re quick to spit back.

Your tone is barely contained fire and steam when you say a resolute, “Fuck. You.”

He looks almost like he wants to laugh until he glances in your direction and sees the look on your face. Subconsciously, he shifts another inch away from you, swallowing harshly as he stuffs his hands back into the pockets of his jacket. “Sore spot. Got it.”

The acknowledgement that his comments hurt you does little to smother the flames clawing up your throat, but you leash your tongue and use them to propel you forward instead. Settling into a tense silence that could last 5 minutes or an hour. It’s hard to tell with the rate the sun continues to sink down onto the horizon and the grasslands surrounding you remain unchanging.

Luckily, the fuming is interrupted by Eddie using his long legs to his advantage and crossing over in front of you to grasp at what you’ve just noticed is a gate in the chain link fence. He fights with the chain wrapping the gate closed for a few moments before he manages to prop it open far enough for you both to squeeze through. You pass first, crossing from a dirt road to what can only be described as worn down tire tracks in the grass. It arcs forward and toward the left, disappearing behind a small grove of trees.

“Is this it?” You ask over your shoulder, glancing back as Eddie once again wrangles the thick chain back into place. “Three Corners?”

“Yup, just up the drive.” He exhales a huff as soon as the chain is back in place. Looking at you with an emotion behind his eyes that you can’t determine, he clears his throat and sets into following the path again. “End of the road. For me, at least.”

The startling realization that this is the end of your journey with Eddie hits you unexpectedly. Twists your gut in a way it didn’t when the handoff happened with Dustin. That you had always known was temporary, a means to an end. Just like this was supposed to be.

When had you lost grasp on that?

Oblivious to your internal struggle, Eddie treks ahead, the call of a place to rest and get clean too enticing to let wait any longer. He’s already disappeared around the bend of the trees before you even catch sight of the property.

First, there’s a light blue walled barn, looking only a little bit worse for wear. More like seasoned in the Oklahoma winds. Two of its off-white, rolling doors are shut, the third opened to a room lined with what looks like workbenches – but it’s hard to tell exactly what in the growing shadows of dusk.

Second, you spot a house. One story, laid out wide rather than tall, and organized with mismatched windows and shutters. The walls are painted the same sky blue as the barn, with white trim and a beige slatted roof that is missing more than a few shingles. The roof extends over a small porch, just big enough to fit the door and 2 rocking chairs, and ends in a copper rooster that slowly rotates back and forth in the light wind.

The front door is wide open, presumably from Eddie, and shows only shadows of what is happening on the inside. You hover there in the open space in front of the house, not sure what to do, until you hear Eddie’s voice calling out.

“Hey! Anyone home?” He barely pauses before continuing, his voice getting closer as he goes. “Jeff? … Ama? … Anyone?”

He reappears from the shadows of the house, crossing back through the threshold with a sharp crease of concern between his eyebrows and his mouth set in a thin line. “Hey, you out here?” He continues, long legs carrying him to the barn next, where he once again disappears into the shadows you’re not yet brave enough to venture into. “Jeff? Ahuli?”

The sound of a creaky metal hinge rings out toward you in the open space, echoing out into the quickly darkening sky. Determining your hesitancy in this unknown space is less important than your desire to sit down, you suffer the last few steps to one of the rocking chairs on the porch, tossing your pack to the ground before throwing yourself onto the seat, almost falling backwards with the force of your exhaustion.

Eddie comes back out into the open, hands on his hips as he makes a slow circle to search around the area within view. Leaning forward on your elbows to contain the sudden urge to melt into the ground, you tilt your chin up toward him as he stops to face you. “Looks like no one's home.”

“Yeah, which…” He takes a few steps closer, dust coated face still wrinkled in concern. “They knew we were coming, maybe not this soon but… I don’t know where they would even go.”

“Maybe they left a note or something,” you suggest, wanting just a few minutes to sit and not worry about what was going to happen next. Wanting a few minutes to just rest. “Could look around the house or – maybe they said something to someone over the radio?”

His expression drops from worry to something that looks a bit like despair when he turns back toward the open workshop door. “I should… Let them know we’re here. Tell them what happened.”

But he doesn’t move an inch. Just stares at the steadily growing shadows of the empty barn. Like if he doesn’t go over there, he won’t have to say it. Won’t have to relive it and remember it.

This is something you can’t run from.

You push yourself to your feet, almost numb at this point of exhaustion, and walk past him toward the barn. Without looking back, you hear him get moving behind you, following you as you approach the structure and cross the threshold. Straw softens your step over concrete floors, making your footfall near silent as you venture further into the darkness.

Try to ignore the fear, shake off the urge to reach for your gun or your flashlight. You’re safe here, you’re safe here, you’re safe here–

A short sound comes from behind you and then the room is bathed in harsh white light, nearly blinding in its sudden appearance. You squeeze your eyes shut for a few moments before slowly blinking them back open.

Two of the walls of the room are fully lined with wooden table tops, drawers and random scraps littering the spaces beneath. It looks almost like some kind of machine workshop – drills, hammers, pliers, wiring, and more scattered across the wood between tools and small machines. Most of it you couldn’t even hope to recognize, but as you slowly turn to scan more of the space, you see Eddie approaching what definitely looks like a radio receiver. There are wires all over, some disappearing behind the workbench it sits on and others loosely arching toward the ceiling and through a cutout. Homemade antenna?

He flicks it to life with ease, a burst of static echoing out along the space before settling into a stable hum of sound. Lowering into a crouch, he has to get pretty close to the dial as he adjusts the frequency, like he can’t see the numbers well. You’re about to offer to help him when he drops his hand and straightens up with a groan.

It tumbles out of your mouth before you can stop it. “Careful old man, or you’ll throw your back out.”

Bracing for him to lash back with something mean, you’re surprised when he snorts a laugh out of his nose, shaking his head lightly before throwing a glance back at you and saying, “Bite me.”

And maybe it’s the smirk on his face, or your exhaustion, or your life falling to pieces around you, but you somehow decide that the way you want to reply to that is, “When and where?”

This time he fully looks at you, eyebrows raised in utter surprise, his smile growing and shifting sideways as your face heats in embarrassment. “Yeah, Bambi?”

“Shut up,” you mutter to his teasing, dragging a tall stool across the straw floor to sit beside him. He is still looking at you, a sharp glint to his eye that makes you feel like a mouse being cornered by a cat. “Just radio in,” you try to order, but it comes out more like a plea.

“Whatever you say,” he concedes with a sly smile, pulling the receiver up to his mouth and pressing down on the button. The static hum cuts out as he says, “Hawk’s Nest, come in. I repeat, Hawk’s Nest, come in.”

The moment he lifts his finger, the static cuts back in. Neither of you move, almost not even breathing, as you wait for a response. Eddie, showing more impatience than you, tries again. “Hawk’s Nest, this is Crow, do you read me?”

When he releases the switch again, you dip slightly forward to look at his profile. “Crow? You have call signs?”

He groans, eyes rolling back into his head. “Yeah, and it’s all bird-themed shit. Blame your fucking sister.”

“Ah, Robin, figures.”

“Pain in my ass,” he reaffirms, but the small smile that remains on his face betrays him. He lifts the receiver again like he’s about to repeat when the static crackles a few times – waving between a very high and low pitch before a static tinted voice cuts in.

“Crow, this is Hawk’s Nest. Read you loud and clear.”

“Thank Christ,” he sighs out before pressing down the switch again. “Crow reporting package arrival at drop 3.”

Annoyance prickles at the base of your skull again, ready to snark back about not being a fucking package but the voice you still don’t recognize cuts back in. “Package arrival heard, will relay.”

He barely waits a second before jumping in again. “Drop 3 handoff incomplete, receiver not present. Any report?”

It all sounds so incredibly vague and short form – like if you didn’t know exactly what was going on you wouldn’t be able to make heads or tails of any of it. That’s probably the point actually, that anyone listening in would have almost no idea what they were talking about.

There’s some additional crackling, a longer pause before the voice cuts back in. “Nothing noted. Standby at drop 3, will report back at 1500 hours tomorrow.”

“Heard,” he confirms and releases the switch. You wonder if he’ll leave it there, not mention anything about Memphis or Max or any of it. It’s almost like he’s tempted to, because he looks over at you with a hard tension in his jaw. You’re not sure why, if there is something he wants you to say or do. If there is some kind of encouragement you could give him, some comfort you could provide.

Nothing feels right to say. So instead you heave a deep breath, wounded arm protesting as your chest expands, and exhale long. Whether consciously or not, Eddie mimics the motion, shoulders rising and falling as he exhales out through his mouth and then presses down on the switch again. “Hawk’s Nest, additional intel for the line.”

A few seconds of hum before the voice replies, “Ready for the line.”

From your point of view, you can see Eddie rest his free hand on the table top, head falling forward as his eyes squeeze closed. His lips twist in a grimace, head rocking back and forth a few times, before he brings the receiver back up to his mouth.

“Memphis QZ is gone. I repeat, Memphis QZ is gone.”

This time you do hold your breath while you wait – heart pounding in your ears loud enough to drown out the static hum as you stare into the black coated machine. The silence stretches on way too long, the longest pause you’ve heard since the conversation began. You almost have to inhale just to keep from passing out, lungs groaning in protest, before the two of you hear a reply.

“Heard, will relay. Status on Flycatcher?”

A sigh out of his nose before he replies. “Headed your way, arrival unknown.”

Another, shorter pause. “Heard, will relay. Standby for 1500 report. Over and out.”

He sets the receiver down with a heavy hand, raises the other to flick the radio back off. Both hands on the table again, he exhales shakily as he hangs his head.

You don’t move or say a word until he does. Allowing him that moment to collect himself, if nothing else.

Slowly, he rolls his shoulders back to his full height, posture squaring off as he takes a step back from the table.

“Come on,” he requests softly, “let’s go clean up, change your bandages. Get something to eat.”

You follow him out of the barn, light flicking off behind you, across the red tinted dirt circle between the barn and the house, and into the shadows within.

August 24th, 2016 – Three Corners, Cherokee Nation, Oklahoma

Last night, Eddie showed you around a bit. They had an outdoor shower with a water heater, a working toilet and sinks, a small fridge, a wood stove. Electricity and hot water. And beds. Both of you would be able to get your own bed.

You’d awkwardly turned down his assistance on getting clean, insisting you’d be really careful with your arm. He let you go first – when you re-emerged from the wooden enclosure of the shower, there was a little bundle of clean clothes waiting for you. By the time you got inside, there was a small (but warm) meal prepared. He was already halfway done with his, and when he finished, he insisted on changing your bandages again despite your reassurance you could do it.

After making sure you were clean, bandaged, and fed, he told you where you could find a bed and went out to take his own shower. You washed the dishes as well as you could with one fully functioning hand and tucked yourself into bed before he even came back inside.

This domesticity felt unnerving. His care felt unnatural. It was different from the apartment in Memphis. This was the home of a family of four, with kids toys and art and pictures and everything. And, despite it only being the two of you, Eddie watching out for you, taking care of you, putting you first… It was overwhelming and uncomfortable and felt unsafe.

Somehow, laying alone in the dark child’s room, in clothes that weren’t yours and in the silence. It was worse than anything.

You couldn’t fall asleep until you heard Eddie come back inside and close the door to the room beside you.

When you wake up, there’s sunlight coming in through the opaque curtains, a soft yellow cast across the homemade quilt you had pulled up to your ears. As you slowly shift it down to your waist, dust starts to kick up and dance along the beams into the room. Making the blues and greens of the bedding and the child-drawn artwork look almost pastel. And while part of it was comforting, imagining a kid who still got to have a room like this – live a life like this – there were a lot of other feelings that came up. Feelings you weren’t ready to face this early in the morning.

Instead, you get up and get dressed to go find some water.

Your door is barely open an inch before you hear something going on in the kitchen, the scrap of wood against metal and the clink of a glass. Not sure if maybe the homeowners had returned while you were out, and you were now about to meet them, you walk as quietly as you can to the end of the hallway that leads to the rest of the house.

The only person you can see is Eddie with his back to you.

He’s standing in front of the wood stove in a tank top and sweatpants, bare feet on the uneven tile flooring, long hair down and haphazardly placed on either side of his shoulders. The scars along his arms are on show, allowing you a better glance as you slowly approach from behind. His right arm isn’t too bad, a vague slash mark here or there, along with a couple of black ink tattoos scattered across the skin. There’s a healed over bullet graze at the top of his right bicep, the skin indented and slightly puckered pink. Probably somewhat similar to how your own arm will heal.

His left has larger patches of scar tissue, a big section on his forearm and a few other spots as it goes up his arm. They almost look like burn scars – the skin damaged and discolored but healed over. It’s the same texture of the scar on his side you saw last week, also on the left. He must’ve been in some kind of accident with flames or maybe some kind of chemical.

You wonder if he’d tell you what it was if you asked.

The closer you get, you can see there’s some small bowls on the counter beside him and one of them is stacked high with brown spotted eggs. He has a cast iron pan over the crackling fire and scraping at the yellow liquid inside it to scramble them.

Without otherwise announcing yourself, you ask him, “Are these fresh eggs?”

He nearly screams, wooden spatula going flying and almost losing the pan too as he jumps away from you. “Jesus Christ, Bambi,” he gasps, running a hand through his hair before dropping it on his heaving sternum, “Are you trying to scare me to death?”

“No,” but your mischievous smile heavily implies you’re not exactly upset about the outcome. “Where’d you get the eggs?”

He glares at you while shuffling back to the front of the stove. He still sounds a little out of breath when he replies, “Ama has a henhouse out back, takes care of them. Tries to keep them out of the garden.” He points toward another wooden bowl that has 2 small pears, some leaves of lettuce, and a single shoot of green onion.

“Holy shit.” The fresh, home grown food nearly brings tears to your eyes – brushing past his back to take one of the small, green pears and hold it up in the sunlight to examine it. “I mean the food, the animals, the water, the electricity… How do they keep it all going out here?”

“The reservation was already making attempts to be self-sustainable before the pandemic hit. Their own power grid, water collection, the works.” He continues to cook while he explains, scraping the bottom of the cast iron to keep the eggs from sticking as he watches it carefully. “After everything went to shit, they fast tracked it. Jeff and Ama were living in the city and moved back to her parents' place to help them. Her folks died a couple years ago so then it was just them and their two kids. Jeff is a mechanical engineer and Ama is a fuckin’ genius in general so they made this into the best compound someone could ask for in an apocalypse.”

Looking over the house, you couldn’t help but agree. The stable fencing, communication, their own food and water. Depending on how they sourced the power, they could probably stay out here for who knows how long and the only thing they might need to worry about is bandits. Even then, there’s not much around. A bandit group would have to be really lost to end up here.

“That’s… amazing. I honestly didn’t think it was possible to still be living like this. Anywhere.”

But then again, I thought that about Memphis too.

He hums an agreement as he scrapes the eggs out of the pan and onto two plates. “Yeah. I know they are still in touch with other families around. Maybe they are out helping one of them with something.” He nudges his elbow against your arm, pointing for you to grab the other bowl of greens and bring it over to the table with him. “There was a ton of feed in the henhouse, like they prepped to be gone for a little while.”

You follow his lead in setting the bowls on the circular table in the center of the room before taking a seat to his right. “Well that’s a good sign, isn’t it? That they were prepared to not be here?”

He hums as he settles into his chair, the wood groaning as he leans too far back in it. “I guess so. I just hope Will has something to tell us at noon.”

Laying out a piece of lettuce, he makes a sort of egg wrap with bits of green onion before taking a bite right out of his pear. “So Hawk’s Nest, that’s Will? He mans the radios out on the farm with Dustin?”

“Mhmm,” he confirms as he finishes chewing, eyes locked on his plate like he doesn’t know where to go next. “With Sally, apparently.”

Long fingers wrap around his wrap and bring it up to his mouth with a crunch, so you pick up a fork and start to spear into your own warm eggs. Unseasoned but still warm and fresh. A hundred times better than the powdered egg stuff they made back at Quantico. Even just having a warm meal settles you in a way you hadn’t anticipated, relaxing further into your seat as your eyes close.

When you open them again, you’re struck by the sight of Eddie. The sun coasts in through an uncurtained window – bathing him and the table in bright morning light. His slightly frizzy hair, greys visible, is pulled to one side, showing off the length of his neck and the broadness of his shoulders. The scruff along his jaw has only gotten thicker, salt and pepper across weathered skin, almost enough to hide the scar on his chin. There’s a tattoo of a dragon along his bicep, a slashed scar of white right through its abdomen, and a swarm of bats on his forearm. His hands are clean, maybe cleaner than you’ve ever seen them and you find yourself thinking that he looks good like this.

This is a different person from the Eddie you first met. The wolf in denim and leather who is intimidating, unapproachable, someone you wouldn’t want to get in a fight with. With the sharp glares beneath aviators and sharper remarks against anything you had to say. This is a man who has seen terrible things – done terrible things – and now gets to rest. A safe place where he can just live. Not be constantly fighting to survive.

If only he would sit around long enough to enjoy it.

The two of you finish your breakfast and clean up the dishes. Eddie roots through closets and cupboards until he finds a jacket that will fit you (since they tore yours apart to make a sling), a corduroy coat in a forest green that probably wouldn’t stand up well in the elements but keeps you warm nonetheless. He helps you slide it up one arm and hang it over your other shoulder. Your arm is still in your makeshift sling at his request, insisting it would be better to take it off in another day or two.

After that, he explains he’s going to go check the trap line Jeff normally has set up, see if there is anything caught so the two of you might be able to eat some fresh meat tonight. You offer to go with him, to try to help, but he’s quick to deny.

While he says something about your arm and wanting you to rest since it’s still healing, you get the feeling he just wants to be alone for a while. So you watch him re-emerge from one of the bedrooms down the hall in his jeans, boots, red and black tie dye shirt, and his leather jacket before walking out the door with a promise to be back before 3pm for Will’s call.

Leaving you to your own devices.

At first you snoop around the house, trying to bide time. Walk the walls like an art gallery – seeing old and faded photos of families, women in calico tear dresses and men in their ribbon shirts. Newer photos of people gathered in churches, an older man and his three kids all climbing on a pasture gate.

Closer to the fridge, there is a set of three polaroid photos. The top is a family of four sitting on the porch of this house, a man and a woman sitting on the steps with a boy and a girl posing between them. The boy is older, looks almost 7, and the girl looks about 5, with his black pigtail braids draped over her shoulders. The other two are each centered on one of the kids; a shot of the boy with a stripe of grease on his cheek and holding some kind of contraption in his palms with a huge smile, the name ‘Ahuli’ written in cursive underneath, and a shot of the girl sitting on top of the father’s shoulders, her hair wild and windswept as she appears to scream out with laughter, the name ‘Tay’ written in cursive beneath.

This must be Jeff, Ama, and their kids. All living out here on this land. These were kids born after everything fell apart. A family created in utter tragedy. There’s something bittersweet about it all. These kids… This is the only world they know. A world ravaged by man eating man and fungus that takes over your body, pilots your muscles and tendons, and leaves you aware. Cities were destroyed and millions of people died and society collapsed. They don’t even really know it. They’ve probably been told, at least some of it. But they don’t have any idea of what it was before – don’t have anything to miss. This is what they have, have always had. A safe home with a happy family.

The chained creature roars in agony, jaws snapping at the bars like it will tear free and take out its anger on them, on their happiness. Roars for you to grab the polaroids and tear them to pieces, to destroy, to light fire to it all. Burn it to the ground.

You go for a walk.

Slip on your boots with some difficulty and just start walking. Past the outdoor shower, the light clucking of the henhouse behind, and out into the grass beyond. Going until you reach the edge of the fence line and then follow along it, looking out for anything that catches the eye. There are a few horses grazing on the property, a single cow with its calf in the acres beyond the fence. Birds flit by overhead and the drying grass shifts as small creatures scurry far away from you.

You’re not sure how long you walk but the sun beats down, along your shoulders and a sweat breaks out. The breeze keeps you from being miserable but you’re still definitely getting sunburnt along your cheekbones. You’d think after days and days of walking, you’d want to do anything but that. But this feels different. It’s peaceful and relaxing. You’re not on edge, listening to every sound and searching for any sign that something or someone is coming after you. Somehow, your body has gotten the message that you are safe (for the most part) within this chain link fence, allowing some portion of your guard down. So you walk and listen to the birds without constantly looking over your shoulder.

Somewhere toward the back acreage, you intercept Eddie on his way back to the house with a string connecting two dead animals hung over his shoulder. He looks surprised to see you but gives an awkward little wave, waiting along the fence until you get there. “Dinner?” You ask, free hand stuck in the pocket of your coat as you look over the furry animals hanging from him, one on his front and one on his back.

“Dinner,” he confirms with a small smile, adjusting the line holding the animals together before you set off back toward the house together. “I can skin ‘em easy enough, and make sure they’re cooked through, but can’t guarantee it’ll taste very good.”

“If you skin them, I can cook them. While I was snooping around the house, I found some bone broth and other stuff. Should be able to make something edible at least.”

His head tilts toward you, eyebrows raised slightly. “You know how to cook?”

“Yup,” you keep your eyes forward, across the waving prairie grass and toward the outcropping of trees that hides the house and barn. “My mom taught me. She used to work in the mess hall on the base.”

He audibly swallows beside you, a nervous pause before he asks, “When, uh… How long ago did she… pass?”

“Eight years, I think. 2008ish. I think it was summer.” Your voice remains surprisingly steady as you explain. “I still don’t even really know what happened. My dad just came home one day and told me she was gone. I was 17, old enough to be more aware of stuff, but it still felt like he was protecting me from something.” You kick at a stone that caught the tip of your toe in the tall grass, eyes on your dusty boots. “Guess now I’ll never know.”

You cross another 15 feet or so before he replies. “One of the shittier parts of keeping secrets. Once you’re gone, they’re gone too.”

You huff a small laugh, gazing ahead at the trees as you continue to inch closer. “He says as a man overflowing with secrets.”

“There’s a difference between not knowing someone and being ‘filled with’ secrets,” he points out, almost defensively.

“Oh yeah,” you roll your eyes, “because you’re an open book.”

He quiets down again, the silence growing more tense than before. When you finally glance over, you see him looking straight ahead, a muscle in his jaw rolling with tension. Despite your desire to say something else and lessen the sudden distance between you, you decide to let him sit in that. Stew in it even. Like maybe if you reflect that mirror right back at him, he’ll see something.

Maybe something will change for him. Even if you’re not going to be around to see it.

The rest of the walk is quiet as you pass back through the treeline. You follow Eddie into the barn, where he disappears through a door into the other half before reappearing sans animal carcases. The two of you settle in front of the radio again.

Will comes through at 3pm sharp with almost no news. No reply from Colorado about Memphis. No news about Jeff. The only thing he is able to tell you is that he will have more for you at 1300 tomorrow and he lets you know Max arrived at the farm early this morning, unharmed. It’s all in code, but you’re able to get the gist of it. When the radio clicks off, Eddie’s frustration boils over. He kicks hard at a metal can sitting on the ground, the side caving in before it goes sailing out the open door and bounces across the dirt drive of the house. You watch it roll to a stop before looking over at him, one hand on his hip and the other over his mouth as he stares at the object, the sun reflecting off the coating in a glare.

“I’m gonna go skin the animals.”

The door slams shut behind him.

You stare at the closed door for a few minutes before getting off the stool and heading back inside the house.

When you wake up on the couch a few hours later, the sun is even further toward the west. The light no longer shines into the windows of the front room, leaving it much darker than it had been when you and Eddie ate breakfast this morning. Rolling up to sit, you stretch overhead with one arm and a yawn before glaring down at the sling keeping your other arm captive. You’re well past tired of the limitation now and slip it over your head, tossing the fabric to the other end of the couch.

Extending your arm, there’s still some pain and discomfort, but as long as you don’t bring your arms above your head or lift too heavy with your bad arm, you’ll be fine without the sling. It is well past time you were able to use both hands again.

The heavy glance from Eddie when he slips back inside implies he disagrees, but it seems not enough to say anything.

Heavy footfall breaks up the silence until aluminum hits tile. “They’re cleaned. Are you still willing to cook?”

“Yeah, absolutely.” Padding across the room in your socks, you step right up next to him to peer into the container. Trying to ignore the way he shifts his shoulder back to make room for you at the counter. Tilting your head toward him, you’re closer than you thought when you add, “Thank you for doing that.”

He looks surprised by the proximity too – brown eyes even just a little bit wider as he scans your face. You can see the way his Adam's apple bobs up and down in a hard swallow. The words sound a bit caught in his throat when he replies, “Sure, no problem.”

Although he looks nervous, maybe even uncomfortable, with how close the two of you are standing, he still makes no effort to move away. Neither do you, although you do lower your face to look over the meat before you in an attempt to ease some of the tension.

If you didn’t know any better, the warmth to your side makes you think he drifted even closer when you stopped looking.

Softly, entirely too intimate compared to the standoffish man who slammed the door behind him mere hours ago, he asks, “Do you want help cooking? Or can I go take a shower before we eat?”

“Go shower.” He doesn’t move an inch. “Oh, actually,” you twist and your noses almost knock together, causing both of you to jerk back in shock. What in the hell is happening right now?

“Could you…” Your voice is unsteady, a bit breathless. “Would you light the stove before you go? I’ve never used one like this before.”

The corner of his mouth tilts up in a small smile before he drops down to his knees right there beside you. Steady hands reach in toward the wood burning stove as you avert your eyes, shifting out of his space and over toward the cabinets you scoped out earlier. Overwhelmed by his quick change in attitude, you busy yourself in preparation until he pushes himself up with a groan.

Seeking some normalcy, you sigh louder than necessary. “Sorry, shouldn’t have asked you to do that. Old knees and all.”

He huffs a laugh, hair shifting while he shakes his head in your periphery. “Careful, Bambi, or I’ll have to give you a taste of what these knees can do.”

A laugh bursts out of you before you can contain it, turning toward him again. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

His eyes narrow playfully, a hand raising in an accusatory point. “Better hope you never find out.” Raising your hands in surrender, you turn back to the counter before he offers one more, “Anything else before I go?”

“Nope, all good here. Thanks.”

He dips his head in acknowledgment before leaving you to your cooking.

As the door clicks shut behind him, you find yourself wondering which Eddie will he be when he gets back.

Evening of August 24th, 2016 – Three Corners, Cherokee Nation, Oklahoma

The chirp of crickets is nearly deafening out on the dusty porch now that the sun has sunk below the horizon. It echoes through the circular clearing of the drive – ricocheting off of thick foliage and the aluminum siding of the barn in a chorus of hissing. A cacophony of noise that drowns out everything but the creak of the rocking chair while it slowly shifts beneath you.

A knit blanket, softened with age, is draped across your lap, frayed edges rolling between your fingertips as you look out over the darkening landscape. The wind has softened from earlier today, meaning you don’t really need the blanket to combat the cold itself. But there’s something about curling up on the porch with a blanket that feels so… Novelty. Comforting.

Another thing you never thought you’d be able to do again.

Dinner with Eddie had been… Strange. He wasn’t quite the tease from when he brought back in the meat, but also wasn’t the grump you left in the barn. Somewhere in between – or maybe something else entirely.

His mood appeared to be wildly shifting by the hour and left you feeling unsure in how to act. While dinner itself had gone relatively easily, you couldn’t help being uneasy by what the next shift might bring.

After eating, he’d insisted on cleaning up. You didn’t fight him on it and made yourself scarce. Found your current blanket, bundled it up into your arms to keep it from dragging across the ground, and made your way to your current spot in the rapidly darkening dusk air. Taking a little while to breathe in fresh air and do your best to reach some sort of relaxed state.

You don’t get anywhere close before the metal hinge of the door behind you creaks open to announce your companion’s arrival.

“I come bearing gifts.”

A cool, glass bottle of liquid is set in your lap – two long fingers releasing either side of the neck before retreating out of view again. Twisting it toward you, you recognize the label of the familiar liquor.

“Where did you get this?”

Eddie drops into the rocking chair beside you with a sigh while he sets a flickering candle on the floor between you both before moving to untwist the top off his own bottle. “A lady does not reveal her secrets,” he murmurs before lifting the bottle to his lips and taking three long swigs. He hisses in through his teeth as it lowers, face contorting in a sort of pleasured pain before falling slack. “Fuck, that’s good.”

Curious if the label is true to the contents, you’re quick to follow - popping the top and bringing the cool glass mouth up to your lips in a more cautious sip than Eddie’s gulps. Sure enough, the liquor is strong and sharp as the burn invades your mouth before sliding down your throat. You groan slightly, not sure if it’s a good thing or not, as you lower the bottle again.

“That’s strong,” you cough slightly, face pulled back in a grimace. “Haven’t had any real shit in a long, long time.”

“Yeah, well.” He glances over at you, brown eyes warm and bright in the dancing flame between you, as the corner of his mouth tips up in a small smile. “Don’t get used to it, Bambi.”

“You sure they won’t miss these?” You ask him, curiously. Despite the burn, you bring the bottle up to your lips again, seeking the numbness that is sure to follow.

He takes another long chug, releasing his mouth with another hiss. “I stashed ‘em here. Guess I should feel lucky they didn’t drink them.”

“Guess so.”

Silence falls again. Or, what can be considered silence beyond the buzz of insects in the dark. You both continue to silently nurse your bottles – you more gently than him – as the red hues of the sun disappear into the navy blue blanket of stars.

When you glance over at Eddie, he has his head hanging back, the base of his skull resting on the back of the rocking chair, baring his throat to the night. He looks exhausted but at rest. Like the alcohol is finally lulling him into some semblance of ease. His legs are splayed wide with the bottle resting between them, hands loosely resting on his thighs. The salt and pepper scruff on his jaw grown thicker than when you’d first met him and his hair pulled back haphazardly.

It’s the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen him. Completely unguarded. Even with you right there beside him.

Which makes him breaking the silence first even more terrifying.

“I think I owe you an apology.”

You try not to tense too much in response, looking over at him again. His head is still facing up but his eyes are open now, trained on the stars above you both.

While you can think of a few things, you’re still unsure exactly what he might be referring to. “I feel like I might regret asking this but, for what?”

His hands shift in his lap, tensing into fists before relaxing again. Shoulders rising and falling in a heaving sigh, his eyes pinch closed again. “I haven’t exactly treated you fairly since we met. I…” He trails off, head slowly lulling forward to glance at you before sticking to the ground before him. He clears his throat before continuing again. “Your dad and I never liked each other very much, for a lot of reasons. The biggest one being how he treated Rob.”

You can’t help but cut him off there, confusion apparently in your face. “What do you mean how he treated Robin?”

Eyes shifting over to you nervously, he takes another swig before explaining. “I’m sure you know the story - your dad and Rob’s mom had her really young, didn’t know what they were doing, all that. You probably heard the sugarcoated version but your dad just kinda up and left them. Didn’t really call, definitely didn’t visit. Moved on… Started a new family.”

Your heart burns then, sorrow and guilt pulling you in different directions. A new family – your family.

“Robin never blamed you, or your mom for that matter. She’s never had anything but good things to say about you.” He’s quick to add, making minimal eye contact with you as he continues to explain. “But I did. I was real protective of Rob around the time your dad came back around wanting to make amends. I remember how much it hurt her. And I think a part of me always blamed you for that.”

Definitely not what you were expecting, you don’t say another word, waiting to see if he’ll keep going. It’s a bit painful; knowing he disliked you for something that couldn’t have possibly been your fault. Almost like he hated you just for being born.

“Anyway, that wasn’t cool or fair of me. The fault was always with your dad and his choices. So… I’m sorry.”

While the sentiment is appreciated, it’s still hard to swallow. You counteract the choking feeling it leaves in your throat with another sip of hard liquor.

“Thanks for telling me.” You offer softly. While you might not be ready to forgive him or even to accept it, you’re still at least grateful to understand a little better why your relationship had seemed doomed from the start.

His chest rumbles in a hum of acknowledgment, turning his attention to his bottle again. You let that hang in the air for a little longer before you speak up again. “What were some of the other reasons?” You ask curiously, looking anywhere but his face. He mumbles a ‘huh?’, urging you to clarify. “You said there were a lot of reasons you and him didn’t like each other. What else?”

You see him grapple with the question, rolling it around in his mouth as he figures out how to chew it. The liquor has definitely loosened him, mentally and physically. Maybe you shouldn’t press for more info like this but… Maybe this is your only chance.

“He tracked me down a few years ago. 2011, I think. It was a week after… After my Uncle Wayne died.” His voice is thick with emotion now, his eyebrows drawn together in concentration as he remembers it. “He asked me to help him with something – something big. But I… We argued. Barely held back from punching him square in the jaw a couple times. He said a lot of shit about ‘expecting more from me’ as if he knew me at all,” he let out a bitter chuckle, his head shaking slightly.

“I was in a lot of pain,” he admits, slightly choked up. You’re shocked still, not sure how to handle this turn of events. Should I comfort him? Let him talk through it? Ask more questions? “I told him to go fuck himself and he called me a selfish bastard. And we kept our distance from each other after that. I’m sure he’s probably rolling in his grave right now knowing I’m one of the people escorting you around.” A huff of a laugh at that, bringing the bottle back up to his lips before his eyes widen and glance your direction. “Sorry.”

You swallow around the lump in your throat. “No, uh… Don’t worry about it.”

Suddenly feeling yourself scramble for something else to say or some way to keep the conversation going, you put your foot right in your mouth by asking, “What happened to your Uncle Wayne?”

He looks at you, shock and maybe even offense clear on his face, and you wince as you kick yourself mentally. What kind of question is that? What the fuck do you think happened to him, idiot –

“Cancer, actually.”

Not sure if you’re more shocked by that response or the fact that he actually answered, you focus in on his face now to make sure he knows he has your attention.

“He worked in a factory for years and years before everything fell apart and smoked a shit ton. Lungs started giving out a couple years after everything fell apart. Coughing blood, wheezin’, the whole thing. Wasn’t really much anyone could do, everything being like it is.”

He pauses to take another long gulp of liquor, the points of his cheekbones tinged pink with it. Or maybe emotion, it’s hard to tell in the candlelight. “Did everything we could but he, uh… Decided he was ready. Said he didn’t wanna wait around for the day he tried to take a breath and couldn’t. So I helped him out to a church in a small town that’d already been picked clean. Held his hand while he said his prayers. Gave him a hug. Gave him a pistol.”

Your heart drops into your stomach, Eddie’s gaze far off. Reliving the moments in his head. “Went outside and shut the doors. Waited… waited until the shot went off.” His hand harshly clasps over his mouth as he leans forward, nearly knocking the bottle to the floor as he leans his face away. You can still see the reflection of the tears escaping his eyes.

The softest whisper you can muster, you twist your fists in the blanket in your lap. “Eddie… I’m so sorry.”

His face pinches tight, tears spilling out of his closed eyes, as he shakes off the feeling and rights himself again. “Better end than most people get nowadays,” he admits, voice rough and dismissive. “Least he got to decide on his own terms. Not everybody gets that chance.”

Pained by his dismissal but accepting this is how he needs it to be, you give a solemn nod. After Memphis, you’ve learned your lesson about pushing him.

“Haven’t talked about that in a long time,” he adds with an embarrassed laugh, rubbing his scruff with the palm of his hand. And while there are still tears in his eyes, he looks a little bit lighter. A little bit more free. Your mind flashes to the church in Memphis – Eddie staring up at the missing head of Jesus in reverence, a pistol strapped to his belt.

Searching for something.

You tip forward, the chair creaking as you rest your feet on the ground below you. He looks over at the noise, watching as you lift your bottle towards his in an offering.

“To doing things on your own terms,” you toast quietly, a small smile on your face.

He blinks at you a few times before a small smile tugs at his own face again. Eventually, the bottom edge of his bottle gently clinks against your own.

“To doing things on your own terms.”

August 25th, 2016 – Three Corners, Cherokee Nation, Oklahoma

It’s with a lot of difficulty that you blink your eyes open from a dead sleep – heavy lids and crusty corners protesting the smallest movement. Warmth surrounds you, coaxing you back to rest and away from the headache that is already starting to appear behind your eyes. It must be very early based on the blue toned light that comes in through the window, which you’re not even conscious enough to realize is not in the same spot as it was yesterday.

Barely aware of anything other than how comfortable you are right now and how much you have to pee, you groan softly before attempting to move.

You freeze up when there’s an answering groan from behind you and the weight around your waist tightens to pull you back in.

Shocked fully awake now, you take stock of your surroundings. You’re in a bed you’ve never seen before. There’s a half empty bottle of liquor on the floor beside you. Your pants are gone. And there’s a tattooed forearm wrapped tightly around your torso, belonging to the warm body lining your back. Hot air coasts along the back of your shoulders, the slightest hint of scruff on your skin, and the rhythmic rise and fall of his sleeping chest.

You’re in bed with Eddie. And you don’t remember how you got here.

Heart starting to pound in your chest, you try to calm yourself from spiraling with questions, many of them starting and ending with why am I not wearing pants–

He shifts behind you and you hold your breath, waiting to see if he’s waking up. You remember he drank a lot more than you so, with any luck, you’ll be able to extract yourself from this situation before anything too horribly awkward happens. When he falls still again, curled tight to the back of you, you cycle through your options.

First and worst, make a scene. Scramble out of the bed, shouting and hiding the fact that you’re half undressed, and mortify both of you in the process. Absolutely not.

Second, try to slowly and carefully remove yourself from his hold. Maybe you could replace yourself with a pillow or something, give him something else to hold onto. Or maybe just remove yourself and make a break for the door, hoping he doesn’t wake up in the 5 seconds between and realize what happened.

Third, accept this is your life now. After all, it’s really comfortable. He’s warm and holding you tight – comforting and safe. Feeling his breath across the back of your neck. You feel like you could drift right off again if not for the slight pressure of something against your lower back…

You need to get up. Now.

Like you’re the worst secret agent navigating the worst bank vault ever seen, you somehow manage to extract yourself from Eddie’s surprisingly tight grip. He moans in disapproval but remains asleep, bringing a pillow in to tuck against his chest in a poor replacement. If it wasn’t for the nearly empty bottle on his bedside table, this surely would’ve gone a whole lot worse.

Taking a few moments to admire his sleeping form in the early morning light – the crows feets beside his eyes only noticeable as tan lines, the harshly indented wrinkles between his brows smoothed over – you rush out of the room when he adjusts again just in case he’s waking up.

You make a pit stop in the room you stayed in the previous night, grabbing a pair of pants from the piles of clothes on the floor, and lock yourself in the bathroom.

After a quick wee, you appraise yourself in the mirror. Your hair is a mess. As messy as it normally gets with sleep, you tell yourself. You don’t have any hickies or other noticeable signs of something less “friendly” happening. In fact, it really just feels like you had the best sleep you’ve had in years, not including the rapidly progressing hangover you’re experiencing now. Still, you think back to last night, trying to remember how you might have ended up in Eddie’s bed.

After he told you about Wayne, the two of you ended up reminiscing on other people you’d both lost along the way. Your school friends, his band mates (other than Jeff), both your parents, a few of the friends he made in high school. A little bit of pondering where you both would be now if the world hadn’t gone to shit. He talked a little bit about Memphis and what he’d lost, which you listened to intently. Then… Nothing.

Resting a hand against your forehead as you stare at yourself in the mirror, you’re terrified to realize you can’t remember what happened between the two of you sitting on the porch and when you woke up in his arms this morning.

What the hell did you do?

i bet you thought you'd seen the last of me!!!!! well guess what!!!! you haven't.

i obviously went a lot longer than i wanted before updating this but i have never, ever stopped thinking about it. i still have it all fleshed out in my head and i will finish it if it kills me. i appreciate your patience in the meantime.

and let me know what you think!! comments and reblogs mean the world <3

#happy birthday gods favorite princess #this one is for you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson hurt/comfort #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson series #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #Old Heart #myos ideas #myo4munson

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shady-tavern · 10 months

Text

Healing Hearts

Warning for implied Animal and Child Abuse, though nothing graphic, please take care of yourselves.

***

Cloud was a very small and very hopeful cat. Her fur was as gray as the storm clouds she had been born beneath and her family had expected great things of her. She had been very energetic as a kitten, looking forward to finally being big enough that she could help out and be of use.

To finally be as proud as her big brother, as strong as her mother and as crafty and swift as her father. There was plenty to do with climbing trees to look for birds, tracking mice and keeping lookout for the pack of wild dogs.

But as it turned out, Cloud wasn't very good at many, many things. She fell out of trees when she tried to climb them, she rarely landed on her feet and couldn't stealth through tall grass if her life depended on it. She got distracted watching out for the wild dogs and failed to warn her family in time.

"Maybe it's better if you leave," her brother told her one day, annoyed and tired. His heart was clearly troubled and grim with unpleasant determination. "You are ruining the hunt for all of us and it's unfair that we work hard just to keep you fed when you can't do anything for us."

"I'm doing my best," Cloud protested, upset and hurt and panicked at the idea of being all alone. Of being cast out. "Where would I even go?"

He flicked his tail dismissively. "Anywhere that's not here. Mom and Dad already expect a new litter of kittens and it will be hard enough for us to get them through winter without you there, mooching off of us."

When Cloud looked beseechingly at her parents, her father was studiously looking to the side, tail flicking restlessly. His heart was dark and heavy with what they had decided to do and yet he was too scared to meet her eyes, too scared of seeing the pain he was causing.

Her mother was tired and half asleep, her eyes were apologetic but she didn't speak up. Her heart was worn and exhausted and busy guarding the growing lives beneath it in her belly.

"Go," her brother said quietly, brushing past her. "I'm sure you'll find your place somewhere out there."

Cloud didn't leave right away, even as her heart felt cleaved in two. She lingered and skulked along the edges of her home, until at last the silence of her family drove her fully away.

She felt so desolate, it was nothing but pure luck that she didn't run into the pack of dogs or any other trouble. She walked until it started to rain and then she curled up within a hollowed tree along one of the dirt paths humans had made to travel along.

It took her a long moment to notice the whimper over the gentle, steady rain. Her ears flicked and for a second, she considered not getting up. She was grieving and tired and felt as though her heart had turned to paste, but at last she dragged herself to her feet.

Following the noise, she soon came upon a big, black dog, scars across its muzzle and it was tied down to the ground with a fraying, rough rope. Cloud stilled, startled, but the dog didn't react. He just remained curled up, shivering a little.

"Are you alright?" Cloud asked after a moment and the dog blinked one eye open. He looked very sad and very small, even though he was big. His heart was the darkest and heaviest Cloud had ever seen, filled with pain and grief and worthlessness.

"I was a bad dog," the dog said at last, quiet and so mournful it broke her heart a little. "I always mess up everything."

Despite herself and all her family's warnings, she felt a pang of understanding sympathy. She hesitated, then approached the desolate dog, noticing that he was lashed down so tightly he couldn't get up even if he wanted to.

"What happened to you?" she asked, aghast and the dog closed his eyes again, curling up tighter.

"My master didn't want me," the dog said in the tiniest voice and Cloud was horrified, before anger overtook her. She marched up to the dog and started to chew and claw at the rope until the frayed part snapped.

"Get up," she said and nudged at the startled dog until he clambered to his feet. He was too thin to her liking. "You can't stay here."

"Then where do I go?" the dog asked, fur matted and ears drooping. "I'm not gentle enough with children, too stupid for tricks, too dumb for guarding and too cowardly for fighting. I'm good for nothing."

The words hit home harder than Cloud had thought. She, too, was good for nothing. Too clumsy for climbing, too loud for sneaking and too easy to distract for keeping watch.

"I don't know," she answered at last. "I don't know where to go either." At least he was free now.

When she turned around to leave, the dog hesitantly crept after her. When she didn't protest, he followed her all the way to the hollowed and now they were both curled up within. The space was just barely big enough for them to fit.

After a moment of staring outside Cloud got up again and he looked visibly startled when she curled up against his side. He was warm, even if he smelled of stale air and dust.

They remained there as they waited out the rain and night fell. Some owls hooted and a fox screeched and the dog flinched a little, but stayed calm when she didn't react.

At the first hint of dawn, hunger drove Cloud to her feet. The dog followed her again as they walked down the road in the direction most of the humans traveled.

"Where is your family?" the dog asked quietly after a moment.

Cloud had to wait until her throat stopped aching with grief until she could respond, "They don't want me." She glanced up at her big companion. "I'm not good at anything either."

The dog looked upset on her behalf and hesitated, then offered, "Maybe we can be good at something together?"

That made Cloud thoughtful. Maybe the dog was right, she decided as they walked. Maybe if they worked together, they could make it. "Alright," she said at last and the dog perked up hopefully. "Come on, I think I know where to get food."

The dog looked relieved and eager. As they crested the hill, a settlement came into view. Cloud's family had always warned her away from those places, but she had overheard birds chatting with each other, as they watched her try and fail to climb. They found her clumsiness greatly entertaining.

"People leave food they don't eat outside," she told the dog when he hesitated to set foot into the small town. "We'll be careful. And look, it's still early, so barely anyone is awake."

Hesitantly, the dog followed her at last, almost crawling with how small he tried to make himself. Now came the tricky part. Cloud had heard the birds talk about food, but she had no idea where exactly she was supposed to find it.

She made sure no one spotted them, winding around corners and ducking into hiding spots until the dog suddenly lifted his head.

"I smell something. This way." They followed his nose and soon Cloud smelled what he had caught on the wind. The scent of blood and meat.

There was a building where humans clearly did their killing, which was strange but she wasn't going to question it. Not when bits and pieces got tossed outside. The downside was, they weren't the only ones. Other dogs milled nearby, while wary cats watched from the shadows, ready to swoop in and grab what they could.

"We can find food elsewhere," the dog whispered, looking scared of confrontation. Cloud was about to agree, when their stomachs growled. It hurt and the sound his stomach made was so much worse than hers. He needed food. They both did.

She took a deep breath and stepped forward, her new friend whispering in warning, but to her surprise, he followed still. The dogs paused in their excited staring at the big window and four heads swiveled to look at them.

"Fuck off, kitty," the meanest looking one growled at her, heart sparking in warning like a fire about to blaze bright. "Or you're part of our breakfast."

Her heart was pounding, but even if she was good at nothing, at least she could be brave. She had to be, or they'd go hungry. So when the dog lunged forward with a snarl, she lashed out. It was nothing but pure luck that she had moved when she had.

Her claws dug deep into the dog's nose and with a pained yowl they flinched back, dripping blood and now they looked scared, the fire in their heart doused swiftly. The rest of the pack lunged to attack and it became a frenzy of clawing and biting and her new friend joined the fray, determined but just as bad at fighting as he had said he was.

"Enough!" someone shouted above and they all flinched apart, staring up at a disgruntled human. "There is enough for all of you, so stop or you'll get nothing at all."

Cloud backed up a step and the pack reluctantly did the same. The human sighed and reached inside to start emptying two buckets, making sure to spread it out as much as possible so everyone got something.

"Hungry lot," he muttered as they all started to snap up pieces. Even the other cats hurriedly grabbed whatever had fallen closest to them. The man's heart was kind despite his rough voice and sharp words and Cloud found herself relaxing a little.

Cloud's big friend managed to snag a piece the size of his head, along with something smaller that dangled from one tooth. Cloud herself grabbed the biggest piece she could and they hurriedly retreated until they felt safe enough to eat.

They laid in the sun together afterwards, sated at last and they enjoyed the sun after a rainy day, keeping an eye out for trouble. They soon explored the town and started to map out the alleys and streets. Cloud made a note of which people were nice and which weren't.

There were so many hearts, good and nasty, bright and dark. Many shifted throughout the day, reflecting the emotions people went through. It helped Cloud in figuring out which humans would be willing to share their food, making her seek out the ones who had happy or soft hearts.

The dog managed to sniff out more places that tossed food outside and Cloud managed to be fast enough to swipe a small fish and later a sausage from someone handing it out to other humans in exchange for something shiny.

"We're doing good so far," Cloud said and the dog hummed in agreement, looking tentatively happy.

They found a place for the night and as the days passed, they settled into a new routine. In the mornings they waited by the butcher, as the man and his employees were called, who threw them all the bits and pieces humans didn't want to eat. Sometimes he tossed them things that smelled a little old, as though they were about to rot, but those were still edible enough for the alley animals.

In the afternoons, Cloud and her friend lingered by the market or other places that had nice people and they ate whatever else they were given or tossed. They sometimes got into fights over food or territory, but managed to establish themselves well enough to get by.

She was vicious and her companion was big and even if he wasn't good at fighting, he learned to pin down whoever recoiled after getting hit by Cloud's claws. It wasn't pretty, but they made it work.

One afternoon, while Cloud was looking up at a woman with a kind heart with big, pleading eyes, she noticed a struggling crow overhead. The bird looked to be young and one wing was clearly injured. It flew from the roof to the next, barely making the journey. When it tried to get further away, it tumbled and disappeared in a nearby alley.

Accepting the piece of ham Cloud was given, making a quick, sweet noise in thanks, she hurried to where the bird had fallen. She found it crouched between a half broken crate and a trashcan, looking like it was panicking.

Upon looking closer, the wing wasn't just hurt but tangled up in some kind of see-through, tough string or wire of some kind. The crow's heart was so heavy with grief and fear it might as well have been made of a large stone.

"Do you want some help?" Cloud asked politely around her piece of ham and the struggling bird froze in place, staring at her with wide eyes. "I promise I won't hurt you. Where is your family?"

"Gone," the little bird croaked faintly at last, heart growing even heavier. "I'm alone."

Cloud winced a little. Losing one's family was awful. She set the ham down and carefully approached. The small crow was clearly too terrified to move, but when Cloud started to carefully pull off the string tangled around the wing, the crow inhaled sharply.

When the string was removed entirely, the little crow stared at her in astonishment. A small gurgle of hunger came from the bird's stomach. Cloud thought for a moment, then offered her the piece of ham.

"Can you eat that?" she asked and the bird bobbled a quick nod. "Don't stay here too long, or someone will find you."

With those words, Cloud departed, only to hear struggling hops behind her. Glancing back, she saw that the crow was following, only to stop, ham pinched in her beak.

"Come on then," Cloud decided after a moment and the crow hop-walked to her side hurriedly, glancing around nervously.

Cloud lead the crow back to where the dog was dozing in their hideout and introduced them to each other. It quickly became clear to the bird that she had nothing to fear and the dog was more worried about getting pecked than she was about getting bitten.

And thus, Cloud gained another friend.

They became known as an unlikely trio around town. The little crow, once her wing healed, flew overhead to scout around. They managed to swindle and steal enough food for themselves and kept each other safe from those who did not like having them around.

The hearts of her companions slowly lightened, losing some of the unhappy dimness. They were still burdened, but they had perked up a bit, had regained some of the spirit the world had stolen from them.

Cloud thought they scraped by just fine and she thought about her family in the forest less and less. Her life was going well, most days.

Sometimes they had to fight harder than usual to have something to eat or to avoid mean people and sure, sometimes she was envious of the pets that had cozy, warm homes where they were always well fed, but those feelings always faded away soon.

She could have found a human for herself, but that would have meant abandoning her friends. She wasn't going to do that. Not when she wouldn't have come as far without them.

It was a gray day, as gray as her fur, with a storm rumbling in the distance, shaping up to be as wild as the one she had been born beneath, when she heard crying. It was human-crying as well, not animal-crying.

Humans usually took care of themselves just fine, but something about the sound didn't sit right with her. Peeking around the corner, Cloud saw a young girl sitting crouched beneath an awning, clothes torn at one shoulder. She was pressing herself against a firmly closed door.

"Please, let me in," the girl begged in a keening voice and her heart was an open, bleeding wound in her chest, oozing despair and panic. "I promise I won't do it again!"

"Go away," someone shouted from beyond the door. "Be lucky we don't just burn you at the stake!"

"I promise I'll never do magic again!" the girl begged around a sob. "I promise I'll be good!"

"Don't lie, we both know you're good at nothing and good for nothing," the voice answered harshly. "Go, this is the only chance I give you, for your late mother's sake. She should have never let you live when you were born with the witch mark."

The girl cried harder and begged again, but no voice answered this time. She slumped down the door at last, curling up tight and cried. Cloud hesitated, then slunk forward. The girl looked up at her meow and when Cloud nudged her leg, she found herself scooped up by trembling hands.

The girl was warm and cried until she was too exhausted to continue. The door didn't open and no one came for the girl. Cloud stayed with the girl for so long, waiting, that the dog and crow came looking for her.

"Come on," she said at last and nudged at the girl until she got up and followed them.

The hideout was a little small for a human girl, but they made do, curling around her to keep her warm. Her heart was still open and bleeding, still oozing despair, but the panic had softened and was nearly gone, instead replaced by exhaustion.

They were going to take care of her, Cloud decided and when she looked at her friends, their hearts and gazes reflected that same decision.

It was more difficult to keep a human fed, that was for sure. Cloud and her friends worked hard to get enough food and the girl never complained and helped as much as she could, begging for the shiny coins that the crow started to look for.

She once came back with a piece that made the girl gasp and they didn't go hungry for an entire week. They ate the best food they had ever gotten that week.

The girl was smart, Cloud realized. She knew exactly where they could go to get food and as time passed, Cloud observed her doing strange things. Things no other human did. She stood beneath the full moon and her skin seemed to glow the faintest bit, sometimes she held things in her hands she couldn't have gotten on her own and sometimes she got little glimpses of the future.

Other people started to notice as well sooner or later. They got no more food from the butcher or the other shops and previously nice people avoided them in the streets.

"We don't feed witch-cats," one man who had always given her a piece of fish hissed at Cloud when she meowed sweetly at him. "Leave!"

"My uncle says I'm a witch," the girl murmured when she lit a fire with the snap of her fingers. They had no food tonight, hadn't had much to eat that wasn't stolen out of trash cans in days. "It won't be long now before they decide to burn me. And...I fear what they will do to you."

There was only really one solution then. Cloud exchanged a glance with the dog and crow and that night, while the town slept, they left. On the way out, they stole everything they could.

The crow stood guard outside and sat on windows, watching people sleep as the girl whispered at doors so the locks clicked open. They left with sacks of shinies the girl had used in the past to get food and old skins to stay warm. Next they grabbed food and better, good skins to wrap up in and then they disappeared into the night.

They managed to find their way through the dark, with the crow's eyes in the sky, the dog's nose and Cloud's ears. They fought off whatever dangers came their way as they traveled with cunning and sheer viciousness and a healthy dose of desperate determination.

But as the air grew colder with the passing days, Cloud realized they needed some place to settle. The girl wasn't strong or old enough to make it through winter out in the open and it was slowly growing colder. Luck was on their side at last, when they stumbled across an old cabin, surrounded by a crumbling stone wall.

"A witch's hut," the girl whispered. "I heard rumors that those places draw witches to them when they stand empty for too long, but I didn't think that was true."

It was dusty and smelled old and stale inside, but all the walls were intact, the roof didn't leak and the windows didn't creak. A fire was lit swiftly in the chimney and they curled up, their hearts glad for a dry, warm place to sleep in.

Soon the downright dreary, slightly creepy place transformed. It was as though it came alive the more they made it their home. The floorboards gleamed like they had been recently polished when they were dusted and washed, the walls looked freshly made when the cobwebs were all swiftly removed.

The garden grew and transformed and with each day, the crumbling garden wall seemed to repair itself. Weeds disappeared and vegetables and herbs grew strong and vibrant instead, offering a last, big bounty before winter came.

The brighter and warmer the place became, the more it turned into their home and Cloud watched the hearts of those around her to grow lighter in turn. Relief at having finally found a safe place softened everyone and allowed hope to shine brighter and brighter the more time passed.

They had found a true, proper home at last and after some exploring once winter had passed, they discovered a village nearby. They cautiously ventured into it to trade shinies for things. Soon it was a normal sight for the residents to see the girl with her animal companions.

The local herbalist was willing to take the girl under her wing and as they were accepted by the village, they settled into a better, warmer and well-fed life. The girl grew older and as the years passed, Cloud noticed that she didn't really age anymore and neither did the dog and crow.

"Well, you're my familiars now," the witch said, carefully cleaning off small crystals she had found in a river. She smiled wide and happy. "That means we're family for as long as you want to be."

Oh, that was very sweet. Cloud cuddled up to the witch and got the best scratches in return.

"You know," the dog said that evening as they dozed on the thick, soft carpet in front of the warm fire. Snow was slowly falling outside, but they felt none of the cold bite inside. "I'm so glad you found me that day. Even if I'm good at nothing, I still have a life I could have never dreamed of."

Cloud frowned at that. "But you are good at many things," she said and when the dog looked ready to protest, she hurriedly tacked on, "Your nose saved us many times and you always found food for us no matter what. You kept us from going hungry."

The dog ducked his head, bashful but hopeful so she kept talking, "Even if you say you can't fight because you're too cowardly, you always helped me no matter how scared you were. That's real bravery, you know?"

"Oh." The dog was quiet for a long moment, then whispered, "You really think so?"

"Yes, there is no doubt," Cloud said firmly.

The crow flapped down from her perch in the rafters and nodded. "You're strong and big and warm and you always take care of us," she said. "Whoever told you you're good for nothing lied to you. You guys..." She hopped a little closer, voice going warm. "You're my family. When I had nothing, you came and gave me everything."

The dog gently nudged their heads together with a little rumble. "And you're mine." He was quiet for a long moment. "I...never thought about it that way. Do you really think I'm pulling my weight?"

"A hundred times over," Cloud said with certainty, then nudged the crow as well. "And you're our family too."

The crow chirp-cawed happily and they laid snuggled together on the carpet. The crow was asleep and Cloud was about to doze off when the dog murmured, "You're no good-for-nothing either."

Cloud opened one eye and he shifted his head to look at her. "You saved me when no one else would have and you have done the same for our crow friend and our witch." The dog tipped his head a little to the side. "And then you helped us figure out how to survive. We wouldn't have made it if we hadn't all stuck together, if you hadn't found us. So, you know, you're definitely good at something."

Cloud was wide awake now while the dog fell asleep, snoring ridiculously loud within moments. She watched the dog and crow a moment longer, then looked up to where their witch was making a protective charm for a worried villager.

When the witch noticed her staring, she looked up and smiled. "Sleep," the witch whispered. "We're safe here. Safe and happy and we're going to stick together, won't we?"

Cloud chirped a little noise in agreement and settled down. Her heart felt full and as warm as the fire they laid near.

Without realizing, without even meaning to, she had ended up getting everything she had ever wanted. A family that loved her and a purpose, as strange as it may look to others. And sure, she wasn't good at any of the things other cats were good at, but now she didn't have to be. Now it was a good thing that she was strange and different.

She fell asleep with a smile and in the morning the world outside was snowy and cold, but her heart still glowed bright and warm. And when the witch looked knowingly at all of them, when Cloud noticed that they all walked unburdened, she realized they had done it.

They had healed the wounds on their hearts.

#my writing #short story #finding love and family in the most unexpected places #just a little thing I found myself writing #hopefully someone enjoys it as much as I enjoyed writing it #a bit of a different thing to my usual stories I think #hopefully I didn't overlook too many mistakes #implied child abuse #implied animal abuse #just so you know in case that is a no-go for you #be sure to take care of yourself #i have no idea how tagging works #magic #witch #familiars #and families

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