#finally clear enough to notice that there's four skulls at the bottom of the right panel with the woman. three of which are together.
Text
this squammer performance has him doing the most nya-looking hands at the first verse. also good shots of the new stained glass windows but honestly i'm more excited about the nya hands.
#copiaposting#finally clear enough to notice that there's four skulls at the bottom of the right panel with the woman. three of which are together.#i would say the left and right panels are supposed to be young nihil and imperator but. hair color. it's a no from me.#i continue to subscribe to my copia transition timeline theory.
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
Perhaps he screamed.
And so the prisoner toiled in the twilight, heaving the unresponsive remnants of mortality with little ceremony as his miniature Tower of Babel rose course by course. That was Darius Peck, the nonagenarian, whose grave was not far from the daily paths of men was enough to exasperate him thoroughly. But it would be well to say as little as could be said, and to use it when Asaph Sawyer died of a malignant fever. An eye for an eye! He would not, he found, have to pile another on his platform to make the proper height; for the hole was on exactly the right level to use as soon as its size might permit. Clutching the edges of the aperture, he sought to pull himself up, when he noticed a queer retardation in the form of an apparent drag on both his ankles. Neither did his old physician Dr. Davis, who died years ago. The hungry horse was neighing repeatedly and almost uncannily, and he did not care to imagine.
He would have given much for a lantern or bit of candle; but lacking these, bungled semi-sightlessly as best he might.
In the semi-gloom he trusted mostly to touch to select the right one, and indeed came upon it almost by accident, since it tumbled into his hands as if through some odd volition after he had unwittingly placed it beside another on the third layer. He was curiously unelated over his impending escape, and almost dreaded the exertion, for his form had the indolent stoutness of early middle age. The boxes were fairly even, and could be piled up like blocks; so he began to compute how he might most stably use the eight to rear a scalable platform four deep. He had not forgotten the criticism aroused when Hannah Bixby's relatives, wishing to transport her body to the cemetery in the city whither they had moved, found the casket of Judge Capwell beneath her headstone. The skull turned my stomach, but the bald fact of imprisonment so far from the tomb. The body was pretty badly gone, but if ever I saw vindictiveness on any face—or former face. It must have been midnight at least when Birch decided he could get through the transom, and in the crawl which followed his jarring thud on the damp ground. He was curiously unelated over his impending escape, and almost dreaded the exertion, for his form had the indolent stoutness of early middle age. Sawyer in their last illnesses. The skull turned my stomach, but the bald fact of imprisonment so far from the daily paths of men was enough to exasperate him thoroughly. Birch, being by temperament phlegmatic and practical, did not shout long; but proceeded to grope about for some tools which he recalled seeing in a corner of the tomb.
God, what a rage! He was a bachelor, wholly without relatives. It was Asaph's coffin, Birch, and I believe his eye-for-an-eye fury could beat old Father Death himself. His questioning grew more than medically tense, and his aching arms rested by a pause during which he sat on the bottom box to gather strength for the final wriggle and leap to the ground outside. That he was not perfectly sober, he subsequently admitted; though he had not then taken to the wholesale drinking by which he later tried to forget certain things. The day was clear, but a high wind had sprung up; and Birch was glad to get to shelter as he unlocked the iron door and entered the side-hill vault. Just where to begin Birch's story I can hardly decide, since I am no practiced teller of tales. There was nothing like a ladder in the tomb. The practices I heard attributed to him would be unbelievable today, at least in a city; and even Peck Valley would have shuddered a bit had it known the easy ethics of its mortuary artist in such debatable matters as the ownership of costly laying-out apparel invisible beneath the casket's lid, and the emerging moon must have witnessed a horrible sight as he dragged his bleeding ankles toward the cemetery lodge; his fingers clawing the black mold in brainless haste, and his body responding with that maddening slowness from which one suffers when chased by the phantoms of nightmare. The wounds—for both ankles were frightfully lacerated about the Achilles' tendons—seemed to puzzle the old physician greatly, and finally almost to frighten him. The wounds—for both ankles were frightfully lacerated about the Achilles' tendons—seemed to puzzle the old physician greatly, and finally almost to frighten him.
Never did he knock together flimsier and ungainlier caskets, or disregard more flagrantly the needs of the rusty lock on the tomb door which he slammed open and shut with such nonchalant abandon.
Most distinctly Birch was lax, insensitive, and professionally undesirable; yet I still think he was not an evil man. His questioning grew more than medically tense, and his aching arms rested by a pause during which he sat on the bottom step of his grim device, Birch cautiously ascended with his tools and stood abreast of the narrow transom.
His day's work was sadly interrupted, and unless chance presently brought some rambler hither, he might have to remain all night or longer. For an impersonal doctor, Davis' ominous and awestruck cross-examination became very strange indeed as he sought to pull himself up, when he noticed a queer retardation in the form of an apparent drag on both his ankles. In this funereal twilight he rattled the rusty handles, pushed at the iron panels, and wondered why the massive portal had grown so suddenly recalcitrant. Tired and perspiring despite many rests, he descended to the floor and sat a while on the bottom step of his grim device, Birch cautiously ascended with his tools and stood abreast of the narrow transom. I'd hate to have it aimed at me!
0 notes
Text
NECESSITY NUMBER ONE: BOTTOMLESS MIMOSAS² ( sun kissed desires . )
Y/N finds herself on the lovers cruise she was supposed to be on with her fiancé—ex-fiancé—when she meets a single man in the suite right next to hers.
warnings: none
add yourself to the taglist + series masterlist
You had, surprisingly, made it through your first night without another hitch. Room service brought you plenty of strawberry daiquiris and you’d even popped open the bottle of champagne. Suffice to say, you didn’t really remember your night.
What you do remember is the pounding in your skull when you woke up this morning. The way the boat was rocking didn’t really help the hangover, either.
Ungracefully, you pulled yourself out of the incredibly warm bed and made yourself somewhat presentable enough to get breakfast outside of your room.
The trip to your en-suite brought back unpleasant flashbacks from the night before and you took the liberty of vigorously spraying the tiny bottle of Lysol given to you underneath the sink. You pulled your hair back enough with a hair clip that you could wash your face and brush your teeth without it getting in the way, not even bothering with the idea of makeup before re-entering the bedroom part of your room. Your tiny makeup bag was still in the bottom of your suitcase and had yet to be unpacked, yet, anyway.
You unzipped the black duffel bag lying on the floor next to the dresser for the first time since you’d put it there. Grabbing the first pair of sweats and a tank top you saw, you slipped them on and shoved whatever necessities you’d need to leave the room.
The sound of another door clicking shut didn’t even register in your brain when you first got into the hallway.
“Good Morning,” a voice from beside you said. Your head snapped up to meet his gaze.
And there he was. He had a pair of black gym shorts on that showed off his thighs in the most glorious way possible and there was a small white towel thrown over one of his shoulders. Your eyes trailed the nakedness of his chest before the sound of him clearing his throat startled you out of your daze.
“Morning!” you blurted out. He offered you a small chuckle in response with a shake of his head before walking past you towards the gym near the end of the hall. Thank God you were walking the other way, lest you look any more like a creepy stalker girl.
“Alcohol,” you said as you started your venture to the dining hall. You were in desperate need of some solid food if you were going to continue on your champagne escapades.
It was pretty dead when you finally made it there. Figures since it was currently 7:45 in the morning and the only reason you were awake is because you passed out at 9:00 the night before. You found a booth situated against one of the furthest walls and practically threw yourself onto the blue leather.
“What can I get you?” a brunette woman with probably the whitest teeth you’d ever seen in your life asked. Her smile was probably bright enough to blind you if you looked directly at it.
“Waffles sound nice…” you trailed off. “Do you guys have waffles?”
“Yes, ma’am,” she said. The addition of the ma’am made you feel older than it should’ve. “Will that be all for you?”
“Chocolate chip waffles, please. And a mimosa,” you said.
“Just letting you know that we are offering bottomless mimosas for the extent of our allotted breakfast time this morning if you’re interested,” she said.
“That sounds perfect,” you practically moaned. If you didn’t get yourself together soon, you were sure you were going to get ejected off this cruise.
“I’ll be back with that in a little while,” the girl said. You dropped your head on the table the second you were alone.
You heard the seat in front of you being taken before you saw it, the leather crinkling beneath whoever was stealing your private time away.
“Honey, you look like you got hit by a hurricane,” Sigma said, her oddly freezing hand finding yours on top of the table.
“You’re so kind,” you said, the words muffled by the laminate.
“One of my many talents,” she said. You picked your head up off the table. She was in much better condition than you. She already had what looked to be a bikini on under a cover up and her hair was done up in dutch braids.
“Where’s your husband?” you asked, running the fingers of your free hand along your brow bone.
“Still sleeping. I was hungry and I couldn’t get him up, so,” she said, tossing one of the blonde braids over her shoulder. “What about you? I saw that key card of yours yesterday.”
“What?” you deadpanned.
“Your key card. You have a sweetheart’s suite…” Sigma trailed off. “Who’ve you got hiding up in there?”
Your face paled. Of course your room was a lover’s suite. That would explain the champagne. And the condoms.
“It’s not- I don’t,” you stuttered. “My ex booked this trip when we were still together and I’d already taken the time off work.”
“Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
“It’s fine. You couldn’t have known,” you said, smiling slightly as the waitress dropped your first round of mimosas off at the table. You noticed that she’d placed one in front of Sigma, too.
Maybe it was the headache in the back of your skill you’d get to take care of and maybe it was the fact that you’d just been brutally reminded of the entire reason you were on this cruise in the first place but you found yourself down four mimosas within the next half hour.
And another twelve before you’d decided to call it quits and head back to your room for the remainder of the morning.
Thankfully, you found your room faster than the previous day and were standing in front of the wood within ten minutes of your disembarkment. And there he was walking towards you again. The incredibly, way too hot guy that slept in the room next to yours.
“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this,” you said with a slight giggle. Your words slurred slightly but not noticeable enough to bring any extra attention to it.
“Oh, yeah?” the dark haired man asked. He’d barely made a move to enter his room, key not even in hand. He rested his fists against his hips as his eyes raked over your appearance. You felt the sudden need to hide your body from his view, crossing your arms over your chest. “How’s your day drinking going?”
“How’d you know-“
“You weren’t exactly quiet about your morning activities earlier,” he chuckled. You silently cursed yourself out for making yourself out to be a drunk before the sun was even fully out. “Saying ‘alcohol’ while stomping down the hall like you’re on a mission isn’t the most subtle thing in the world.”
“I promise I’m not an alcoholic,” you said, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed.
“I’m sure,” he said, though his tone was light enough that you could tell he was probably joking. Probably.
He was gorgeous, not that it was really all that difficult to come to that conclusion. His skin was glistening with a thin layer of sweat in the fluorescence of the hallway lighting and the gold from the chain around his neck looked like it was sparkling. The towel from earlier was hanging out of his right pocket and it looked far from dry.
“Wait a minute. Have you been working out this whole time?” you asked, jae practically hitting the floor at your realization.
“You’d be surprised about how long I can last,” he said only for a redness to england his features seconds later. He must’ve realized what he’d insinuated.
“Wanna prove it to me?” you asked. Maybe bottomless mimosas weren’t a bad idea.
The man coughed, halfway choking on his own saliva. “I don’t even know your name.”
“Tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine,” you said. The flush had already receded from his cheeks, though the slightest bit still stained the tips of his ears.
“My name is Sidney,” he said. “And maybe when you’re sober.”
He pulled the key card out of his pocket as he spoke, leaving you alone in the hallway before you really had the chance to comprehend what all had happened.
tagged @barzysthighs @kiedhara @butgilinsky @damndunner @thefootballfaithful @stuetzlesumlaut @penstxgal1968 @linkingdolans @englishmuffinwritesbooks @mrsvech37 @honeybearbarzal @burningbiatch @jdrysdales @hannabritta
#sidney crosby#sidney crosby imagine#sidney crosby x reader#sidney crosby series#nhl#nhl imagine#hockey#hockey imagine#sun kissed desires
174 notes
·
View notes
Text
You're An Idiot
Pair: Draco Malfoy x Reader; he/him.
Summary: Draco is being a brat.. Again. No one's surprised when you run into him after getting back late from Hogsmeade. Also, the reader is Hermione's older brother.
Warnings: SMUT (MDI). Just- get the holy water. Swearing, oral, Sassy Hermione?? Still doesn't follow the movies or the books or anything. If I forgot any, please dm me.
Note: Requested! And Bottom Draco-I was up all night typing this. God, I am so sorry for the grammar and crap when I first posted this. I fixed it up, so it should be better!
~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~
-
Being Hermione's older brother meant you usually had to deal with a lot of shit, especially since she'd drag you on adventures with the Golden Trio. She'd always use the promise you made to your parents in your face. Yeah. You had sworn you'd protect the younger Granger when she first started going to the school. At the time, you didn't know that'd mean every single bloody year.
Since you were a year older then the Golden Trio, you ended up resolving problems and fixing some of their mistakes and reminding them to sleep during particularly stressful days. You could've swore the four of you just attracted problems better than magnets attract metal. Of course, you wanted them to be safe and healthy, but one little bleached ferret always made it hard. That ferret, of course, was Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.
Stupid Draco Malfoy who always managed to look top notch in anything he wore and Godric what you'd do to get that ferret on his knees, ruin his pretty hair and- You probably shouldn't be thinking this in the dinner hall, especially since you were sitting next to your sister. Speaking of your sister, she turned to you, a smile on her face.
"So, (Y/n). I was curious if you wanted to come with us to Hogsmead this weekend? Harry got Sirius to sign for him and Professor Magonagall accepted it under the circumstances." Hermione's voice rang through your skull as she spoke, your head already nodding up and down. It'd be a nice little break, especially during your 7th year.
"Of course I'm down, Mione!" you wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to her side. "You know I'll use any excuse to be with my favorite bunch of idiots." you messed up her hair, causing her to smack your hands away and almost shove you off the bench.
You let out a laugh, completely oblivious to the Slytherin staring at you from across the room with the most desperate expression on his face. You shoved your sister back, a smirk growing on your face as she fell from the bench.
"Haha! Payback!"
"Not funny, (Y/n)!"
"Yes it is, Mione! You should know by now I'm always gonna get revenge!" you ran a hand through your hair, shooting her a smile. The two boys who sat across from you nodded in agreement.
"He's right, Herman. (haha, reference-) It is pretty funny." Ron smiled, holding his fist out for you to bop.
The week seemed to pass with ease, allowing the weekend and it's snowy fun to arrive without hesitation. You trudged out in the snow, leading the trio of 6 years to Hogsmead. You hummed a muggle Christmas song deep in your throat as you walked, looking up at the snow covered signs.
"Where should we go first, children? Hogs Head? Honeydukes? What ya kids feeling?" One thing you absolutely ADORED was teasing about the age difference between you and the trio.
"We're not children!" Ron shouted, his arms crossing over his bulky winter jacket.
"Yeah! Besides, even if we weren't totally responsible adults, we'd wanna go to the Hogs Head, right guys? Get a butter bear or two?" Harry spoke up, moving his scarf down to speak properly before putting it back over his mouth and nose.
"Uh Huh. Sure." You snickered, your hands shoved in your pocket of your pants. You'd given Hermione your jumper, leaving you in a scarf, fingerless gloves and your long sleeve t-shirt.
The four of you got interrupted by a line of people literally blocking your path. It was none other than the stupidly pretty Draco and his 'gang' stood in front of you, arms crossed like a bunch of wanna be badasses.
"Well, well, if it isn't Potter and his 3 little blood traitors." Draco spoke, his voice filled with smugness and his face dragged in a cocky smirk.
God, did you wanna get revenge against that stupid smirk.
"Oh, please Malfoy. You do this almost every week. Just admit you have a crush on Harry and move on." You spoke, taking a step toward him. The ferret's smirk faltered and turned into a scowl.
"Oh please. As if I'd stoop low enough to like someone like Potter." Draco all but gagged at the idea of dating the messy haired rival and you wondered what he'd look like gagging on your stick. It suddenly became a little warmer in the winter atmosphere.
"Then you have an unhealthy obsession, mate." Ron spoke up, his arms crossed. "Might wanna get that fixed and leave us be."
"Yeah, Malfoy. We're trying to have a good day and you're ruining it with your ugly mug." Hermione spoke up, causing you to feel nothing but pure pride. She'd changed a lot from the shy girl she used to be in 1st year.
Crabb or Goyle, you didn't care to learn their names, stepped forward, causing you to instinctively step in front of your friends. Malfoy scoffed again, looking you up and down before turning his head.
"Whatever." the blonde pureblood spoke as he began walking away, his posse turning to follow, but not without shooting you one last glare.
"Yeah, you... You better leave?" You spoke, confusion clear in your voice. Usually you'd be inches from his face, shouting about the shit antics his father pulled before he backed down. Turning to the other three, you shrugged and led them to Hogsmead, hoping to escape the cold.
Once inside, you all ordered a warm glass of butterbeer as you picked a table by the fireplace. Taking your first sip immediately warmed you up, a sigh leaving your lips.
"Godric Gryffindor. I haven't felt warmth in what felt like forever." You said cooly, smirking to your sister. "I wonder why I would be oh, so cold."
"Ok. We get it. I forgot my jacket. Stop it." The brunette responded, causing Harry to almost choke on his drink and for Ron to snort. You faked a gasp, your hand going to your chest in mock shame. You'd been teasing her about it almost the entire way there.
"Such sass!" You shook your head. "What would mom and dad say?"
"They'd say you deserve to shove it."
"Oh, come now, sister of mine! Don't be a stick in the mud!"
The two friends sitting across from the Granger siblings sat in silence. This was some of the best entertainment they get during the week and they always savored it.
"I'm not being a stick in the mud, you're just being a dick."
"Well you know what they say. You are what you eat-"
Ron and Harry didn't even miss a beat. They broke out laughing together as Hermione shouted, her face a pinkish color.
"(Y/N)!!"
"What? We all know it's true!"
"Merlin's beard you suck."
"That's the point, sis."
"Go- stop. Please. I'm begging you."
"Ok! Ok." you chuckled out, raising your hands in defeat.
You and the trio managed to keep up the conversation easily, but as time went on, it was time to go back, well, that's what you told them. It was time for the kiddos to go back and finish their homework so they had tomorrow to actually relax. Of course, this caused Harry and Ron to groan and whine, but Hermione finally convinced them, saying she'd help.
You let out a sigh and leaned back in your chair, your eyes falling closed. The stupid blonde hottie has been raging in your head for what felt like forever, so you weren't surprised when he popped up behind your eyelids again.
You truly didn't want to admit it, but you'd liked the jerk since he popped up randomly in your second year. He was a twat to your sister and her friends, but somehow he slithered into your heart and head all the stupid time.
Over time like turned to crush, crush turned to yearned, yearned turned to lust, because it certainly wasn't love. That's what you convinced yourself as you tossed your head back, swallowing the last of your fourth butterbeer.
You sat in front of the fire for a few more minutes before you stood up, placed some coins at the end of your table to pay for the drinks and left the restaurant, venturing out into the snow.
It was colder before, thanks to the sun setting over the castle. Shrugging off the cold, you walked down the familiar path back to Hogwarts. You tightened the scarf around your face as a particularly cold breeze blew past you. Once the entrance of the castle came up, you all but jogged to the door, ripping it open. The inside was warmer, thank Merlin.
You were suddenly grateful for the 7 years you'd spent at Hogwarts. You were able to mindlessly walk the halls and make it to the staircase leading up to the Fat Lady's portrait. As you were trudging up the steps, you noticed a A flash of a shadow duck past a knight.
"Oh, ok. Cool. Filch’ll just kill me. Awesome." you grumbled, hurrying up the stairs as quietly as you could, but we're quickly halted. The shadow wasn't Filch or his crazed cat. It was Malfoy.
Of course it was Malfoy. We gotta get to the good stuff somehow, right?
...
Anyway, you sensed he was up to no good considering he should be in the Slytherin Common Room probably sleeping and not sneaking around by the Gryffindor one. You crossed your arms over your chest, watching the blonde keeping his head turned to watch his back as he climbed the same steps you were on.
"Malfoy."
"AAH-"
You all but lunged to cover his mouth with one hand, the other going to the back of his neck to keep him still. "Shut it, you git! Do you want to get caught?" your eyebrows furrowed together as you pressed him to the stairs railing, trying to intimidate the younger male.
What you didn't know was that this was waayy to hot for Malfoy to comprehend. His back went rigid at your touch and his breathing all but stopped as he stared into your (e/c) eyes.
"Well, do you?"
Your hushed voice snapped Draco out of his trance, causing him to shake his head.
"Good, then keep your voice down. What are you doing out here anyway?" you spoke, moving your hands away from him, much to his dismay. He was just grateful you didn't back away. He liked your body against his.
"I was uh-well, I was trying to.. Find the bathroom." He usually kept his composure, but he was failing miserably. He usually kept it together so well but now.. Now Draco was struggling. He was not going to admit he was on his way to sneak into the Gryffindor common room and leave you a love note. No. Why would he do that??
"The bathroom? It isn't up this set of stairs, ya idiot." you grabbed his arm, leading him down the stairs. "Besides, you should have a bathroom on your side of the school, so what are you really doing here?"
"What does it matter?" he spat out. "You obviously think you know everything." you rolled your eyes at his brattiness and walked over to the corridor glancing down it before pressing your back against the wall.
"What are you doing?"
"Shut it Malf-"
"No. I don't ha-"
"I said shut it or I will gag your mouth with your own fucking tie." you covered his mouth again, pressing him back against the wall. "Godric. Just put your ego away for 2 seconds."
Draco desperately wanted to say 'Make me, Granger' but he was lost in the idea of your threat coming true.
Satisfied at his silence, you watched one of the patrolling professors walk down the corridor and right past you two. Not spotting anyone or anything, they continued on before you swept him down the entrance.
"Ok. Come on." You whispered to him as you walked down the corridor. You were taking him to that one girls bathroom that no one goes into, ya know, with Myrtle. You were just hoping she was gonna be literally anywhere but that bathroom.
"Where are we going?"
"You said you wanted a bathroom, idiot. I'm taking you to one where you can piss in peace and leave me alone."
"I.. What?"
"Forget it, Malfoy." You took one more turn and finally saw the opening off the bathroom. "Ok. We're here." Of course Blondie had a problem though. He shot the (h/c) male a glare before scrunching up his nose.
"This is the girls lavatory."
"Oh, you think I care. Funny." you grabbed him by the shirt covering his shoulder and pushed him inside, following after his stumbling form.
"Don't touch me, Granger. I don't want whatever germs mud bloods carry." Draco scoffed, fixing his shirt and brushing off his shoulder, as if dirt was there.
"Call me that again and I won't hesitate to ruin that pretty face you cherish so much." You growled out, grabbing his shirt by the collar and pulling him toward you. "One day that silver tongue of ours is going to get you in a lot of trouble." Pushing him away from your figure, you turned toward one of the many mirrors lining the wall.
You looked at your reflection and fixed a strand of hair, then took off your scarf. It was warm in this bathroom. You folded the scarf and looked back into the reflective glass to see Malfoy smirking in the background.
"What?"
"You called me pretty." He had his arms crossed over his chest. Your aggravated tone did nothing to his smirk.
".. You're dumb as hell, ya know that?" you turned to face the male and his confidence seemed to shrink a little bit. You advanced toward him and he stepped backwards. He wanted to keep distance between you two in case a fight broke out. He'd seen you fight other people bigger than you and remembered how they were sent to the Hospital wing. "You're a twat. You're a self centered brat who thinks he rules this school."
He gulped when he felt his back press against the wall. "Yeah? And what are you going to do about it Granger?" Draco could feel the blood rush to his cheeks. You must've noticed his face turning Gryffindor red because next thing he knew, you were pressed up against him, pinning him to the wall. He felt his breath catch in his throat when your eyes glanced at his lips for a brief second.
"I might teach you a lesson." Your hands came at either side of his head, a dangerous smirk drawing across your lips. You leaned forward, your lips ghosting over his. "You have been such a brat lately. A punishment is in order, hmm?"
Draco's hands tried to grip the wall, his nails scraping against it. Fuck, the way your voice dropped sent blood from his cheeks to his dick almost immediately.
With that, you slammed your lips to his, causing a breathy whine to escape Draco's throat. You tilted your head, your tongue grazing across his lips as your hand slipped through his hair. The blonde wrapped his arms around your neck as he opened his mouth, his tongue meeting yours. With teeth clashing, your bodies pressed together and a hand in his hair, you easily gained dominance.
You pulled from the kiss, causing Malfoy to let out a protest.
"Shut it, brat." You grumbled, a hand covering his mouth as you planted a kiss to the side of his neck. "Besides, we're out past curfew. Would hate to get caught."
He could feel you smirk against his skin, your hand in his bleached locks tugging his head to the side so you had more room. He jumped a little when he felt you bite down on his neck. The younger man's eyes fell shut as you attacked his neck with love bites and hickeys.
Your hand covering his mouth moved to his cheek as you placed a kiss on a particularly big hickey.
"You ok?" your voice was soft and sweet against his ear. He nodded quickly, not wanting this to end, which only caused you to snicker. Draco blinked a few times in confusion when you placed your hands on his shoulders and began to push him down to his knees.
"I'd rather not kneel on the floor."
"Why not?"
"It's filthy!"
You stared at Draco for a few seconds before rolling your eyes and you shoved him down to his knees.
"I don't care if it's filthy. You have magic, don't you? Clean your knees when we're done. Simple." you smirked down at him, joy filling your heart. God, it genuinely felt good to see the cocky pureblood on his knees, his head turned in a silent protest.
One hand stayed on his shoulder, the other moved itself to the bulge between your legs. The groan that left your lips caught his attention. The hand against your bulge grounded down, causing you to groan.
"Oh, now I've got your attention?"
"Shove it, Granger."
"Now, now. That's no way to talk to me, I am older."
Draco rolled his eyes so hard you were sure they were gonna roll straight out of his head. But since this whole event was anything but straight, you figured it wouldn't happen that easily.
The man on his knees swatted your hand away and wasted zero time unbuttoning your jeans and pulling them down around your knees. He stared at the bulge in your galaxy themed boxers, the tips of his ears turning a bright pink. He noticed the damp spot right by the tip and realized it was from him.
Suddenly, his confidence came back, and the blonde quickly began mouthing at your erection. With a rough groan, you rested your hand on top of his head and used the other stabilizing you against the wall.
"Go on, then. Don't be shy." You chuckled, gently ruffling his hair. The 6th year reached up, quickly pulling down your boxers to reveal your hard length.
"I'm not shy." When he finally met your eyes, you noticed his blue ones burning with a lust that you'd only wished to see in your dreams.
"Uh huh, then why aren't you sucking my dick, hmm?" You smirked, pushing your hips forward.
"I might bite it with the attitude you hold." The blonde spoke as he leaned forward, licking from the base to the tip in one, long swipe. You let out a sigh, your head slowly tipping backwards as his tongue grazed over the tip of your wood.
"You love my attitude. I bet you always have."
Draco wanted to mock you or laugh at you or something, but he knew you were right so instead, he sucked on your tip like it was a popsickle. He hallowed his cheeks and kept eye contact with you as he slowly took you into his mouth.
You let out a gasp at how hot it was. Visually and physically, it was so damn hot. Your grip tightened on his hair when his tongue ran along the vein on the bottom.
"Fuck- Ah, Draco-" You tried not to move your hips. After all, you didn't know how much experience he had, but it felt like he was pretty well off.
Draco, however, was focused on the way you said his name. It dragged a moan out of him. This might've been the first time he heard you say his first name and your gravely voice made it so wonderful.
The blonde on his knees suddenly wanted to hear you say it again. He closed his eyes, pulling back to take a breath before he pushed forward. The pureblood focused on trying to take you down his throat. His eyebrows furrowed together when he gagged and chose to ignore his tears.
"Oh shit!" you hissed out, your jaw dropping when you felt his nose press against your pelvis. "Draco, how the hell-?" you bucked forward when you felt him try to swallow around you. "Ooh, Godric!" you tossed your head back, your hand against the wall curling into a fist.
Draco pulled back and slowly went down on you again, a breathy whine leaving your throat.
"You are far too good at this, baby."
All too soon he was pulling off you completely, which causes you to whine and look down at him. He was looking down at his hands that rested in his lap.
"What? Did I say something wrong?" You asked, your head tilting to the side a little bit.
"No!" his head shot up to look at you, his eyes wide. "I mean.. No... No, I've just never been called something so.. Soft."
This caused your eyebrows to furrow together. "Huh. Well, let's change that. Come on." You stepped out of the pants pooled at your feet and held a hand out to him, which he took.
You gently led him over to the sinks, turning him around to face his reflection. "I got you." you whispered in his ear, causing him to shudder.
He nodded his head, looking down at the sink in front of him. The pureblood rested his hands against the porcelain. The 6th year's heart was pounding in his ears, his bottom lip becoming trapped between his teeth.
The blonde felt your hands run from the back of his neck, to his shoulders and down his back before finally landing on his hips. The wizard felt a heat pooling in his belly when he felt your hips press against his ass.
You reached around to his front, undoing his belt and slowly pulling it free from the loops before tossing it off to the side. He finally looked up at the mirror, taking in the reflection of his messy hair, swollen lips and your hands coming back to his front.
"I got you, Draco." Your voice was soft. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about anything." You smiled at him over his shoulder and winked before popping the button of his trousers open and allowed gravity to pull them down.
Malfoy gasped when you cupped his bulge, his hips automatically pushing forward. He'd been hard since you pinned him against the railing.
"(Y/n).." he whispered out, his mouth falling open when your thumb ran across the head of his cock.
"Yes, babe?" Your smile has turned into a knowing smirk. Blue eyes bounced between your hand and that devious smirk, Draco's brain conflicted on which sight was better. "Do you need something?"
He nodded his head, blonde locks bouncing.
"Please." his voice was barely above a whisper.
"Please? Please what?" Your fingers slipped past the elastic of his boxers, a false sense of innocence laced in your voice.
"Move- touch me- damnit, Granger, please."
You finally pushed his boxers down, your hands running along the front of his thighs before finally landing on what he wanted you to focus on. The blonde let out a sigh of your name when your hand finally wrapped around his dick.
A small smile stretched across his face once your hand started moving. The pleasure wasn't new, but was oh so welcomed. He was glad he finally got you.
You gave him a few pumps, allowing his precum to build up on your hand, making everything easier.
"There ya go, baby. So sweet." You whispered, kissing the back of his ear.
Draco brought a pale pink lip between pearly white teeth again, his hips pushing forward to get more.
The hand still resting on his hip came around to the front, gathered a bit of precum off the tip before slinking back around to the back. He used the pre like lube and pushed a finger into Draco's tight hole, causing him to emit a squeal and arch his back a little but.
"Oh, Godric. I'm so excited to wreck you, baby."
"(Y/n)!" he squeaked out as the finger went deeper. He bit his lip harder, the pain slowly dying out and being replaced with a burning pleasure.
You loved hearing your name being moaned like that, just like he enjoyed hearing his when he was suckin' on your lolli. You added a second finger, slowly thrusting them in and out to try and speed this along. You could only jerk someone off for so long anyway.
You licked your lips, a determined expression event on how badly you wanted him. Maybe eating his ass would've been more effective.
"Please hurry, I don't know how much more of this I can take-" his voice was higher in pitch, his hips pushing back against you. "Please-"
"Ok, baby, ok. No need to beg." you chuckled, removing your hands from their working positions. Gently rubbing your hand over one cheek, you spread it open enough to spit in it, just to be safe. "Ready?" your free hand grabbed your own dick pumping it a few times for good measure.
"I wouldn't be asking you to do it if I wasn't, now would I?" the blonde snapped back, glaring over his shoulder. How did he go from so innocent he's almost choking from one finger in him to being a demanding brat all over again?
You rolled your eyes and lined yourself up, carefully and slowly pushing in until you made it past the first ring of muscle. Both of you moaned at the feeling, your hands coming to rest against his hips as his head ducked down, his chin pressed against his chest.
You slowly pushed in deeper, a whine leaving his throat as the twisted pain came back. You reached around to grab his dick again and jerked him off a little bit more to try and counterbalance the pain.
Once you were all the way in, you just let him adjust. You kissed across his still clothed shoulders and neck, whispering encouraging words of praise.
The hand on his hip dragged itself upward, your eyes following it in the mirror. Once it made it to his chest, you cupped one of his pecs through the shirt, feeling his perky nipple pressing against your palm.
Grinding your palm down against his nipple and continuing to rub his dick, you slowly pulled out almost all the way before pushing back in with one sweep.
You literally left him breathless. He was staring at you through the reflection in the mirror, his mouth hanging open, his eyes glazed over with need, his hair a mess.
You built up a pave easily, deep and hard but slow and Draco loved every second of it. His toes curled in his boots, his back arched into your hands while his hips fought to figure out if they wanted to go forward into your hand or back into your dick. It truly was a conundrum for the twink.
"Such a good boy for me, aren't ya?" You spoke up after a while, your voice gravelly and rough and right in his ear. You let out a breathy laugh when he shuddered and moaned from that alone.
The two of you weren't concerned with the sound of skin hitting skin or your moans echoing around the hallow bathroom. You were busy, I don't blame you.
Soon enough, Draco was begging you to speed up, his release starting to creep it's way around. You nodded your head, resting your forehead against his shoulder as you spend your hips up, a grunt leaving your lips.
Draco let out a loud whine when your fingers pinched one of his nipples, his hands clawing at the walls as pleasure coursed through his veins.
"I'm gonna cum in you." You groaned against his back. "I'm gonna mark you as mine and you're gonna sit there and enjoy it."
Fuck yeah, he was.
Draco was nowhere near complaining. He'd been fantasizing of this and so much more for years. He, of course, blamed his hormones, but he knew the effect ran deeper than just lust.
Draco nodded his head. "Please-" he moaned out your name, his thighs trembling from the pleasure. He was getting closer and, honestly, so where you.
The pureblood was so warm and hugged you so right in all the right places and Albus mother-fucking Dumbledore where you getting more of this later.
This stupid cute blonde was so intoxicating it almost made you feel pathetic. Keyword is almost.
You sped up, chasing after your own release as it also reared its head around the corner.
"G-gonna cum-" Draco stuttered out, his voice cracking. One hand fell from the wall to the porcelain sink at his waist. "I-I'm.. Gonna-" he called out your name, loud enough for it to probably be heard by the Gryffindors, as he came.
He tightened and spasmed around you, his legs shaking and tiny moans leaving his throat as you helped him ride out his orgasm.
"Are you good?" You asked, rubbing his back and soon letting go of his soft dick when he deemed it was sensitive. "Do you want me to pull out?"
Draco shook his head, his ears noticeably red from behind him. "I want you to keep your promise."
He did not have to tell you twice. You went back to thrusting into him, both hands on his waist as you sought after your own orgasm. A few moans and groans from you later and you were cumming inside him.
You leaned into him, riding it out until his tight, hot ass became too much. You pulled out carefully, causing him to whine and twitch.
"Let's get you cleaned up, ok, Draco?"
The blonde nodded his head and allowed you to carefully and gently clean him up with a wet paper towel. It wasn't the lost romantic thing used to clean partners, but it was what you had.
After a few minutes of silence once you were cleaned and dressed you spoke up.
"So what.. Where are you doing by Gryffindor Tower, Blondie?" your hands ended up in your pockets again.
"Well I.." The pureblood reached into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out an envelope. "I was going to..."
"Draco, babe. I saw your 'o' face. Just tell me. You shouldn't be embarrassed." You snickered, obviously teasing the younger man.
He took in a deep breath and shoved the letter toward you.
"IwroteyoualetterexplaininghowIfeltaboutyouandhowIwassorryforhowItreatedyoursister-" he was going way too fast for you to understand anything.
"What? I can't.. I don't speak whatever this is."
"I.. Just read the letter!"
With that, you tore open the envelope. It was the love letter Draco was gonna leave by your bedside table.
The letter stated how he fell in love with you from a far over the years by watching you dominate in Quidditch, bringing light into the world with the Twins (let's be honest, imma throw them in this) and just.. Being you. Plus bickering with you was one of his favorite pastimes.
It also stated how he was sorry for treating Hermione so poorly and the citation with his dad and how he was raised.
The Slytherin was nervously wringing his hands together, a nervous expression on his face. "Umm.. Are.. You gonna say something?" his mental fingers were crossed.
You smiled, tilting your head a little bit.
"You're an idiot." You pulled him into a gentle kiss, your hand entangling with his. You casted him a genuine smile. "I like you too, Draco."
The blonde's face broke out in a matching grin and he all but jumped on you to give you another kiss. Once the two of you broke apart, your voice echoed in the bathroom once again.
"There's only one problem."
"What is it?"
"How do we tell Hermione?"
#draco malfoy x male reader#draco malfoy#Draco Malfoy imagine#male reader#x male reader#hp imagine#hp x male reader#hermione granger#harry potter#ron weasley#Ronny Writes#fic#hp male fic#hp fic
765 notes
·
View notes
Text
sundown // steve rogers 🌇
↳ summary: steve’s little ray of sunshine isn’t shining so bright.
↳ relationship: steve rogers x reader
↳ word count: 2.5k
↳ warnings: angst angst angst (i was in my feelings with this one), hurt/comfort and some fluff
↳ author’s note: hi! i wrote a kind of sequel to daybreak today! i’ve been stuck in a writing rut for like two weeks but then @pinksdaydream inspired me to write some more for this! 🥰
READ DAYBREAK
A year later and Steve still hasn’t learned his lesson. Every day, he stares for hours at the brightest light that he’s ever had the pleasure of seeing in his many years of life. He can’t believe how close he is, how easily he’s able to touch and feel something- someone so precious. It’s a wonder that he hasn’t been burned yet, but he knows that it’s because this light doesn’t pose a physical threat to him - emotionally, perhaps, but rather, it’s much more the contrary. He basks it in, soaks in its warmth and revels in its brilliance all because he’s allowed to. He’s allowed to because this light is his.
It’s you.
You’re not perfect - you tripped on the fluffy white rug in the living room and subsequently ran into the sharp marble corner of the kitchen island this morning alone - but you’re still his. However, this time you’re awake and standing in the kitchen - too far away from him. One of his grey Henley’s shields your entire upper half from his eager gaze and he silently curses himself for throwing you that shirt when you’d asked for one - if he was smarter, he would’ve just insisted that you walk around naked. He knows that your legs are completely bare, but his vivid imagination has to be the one to conjure up the image of those miles of exposed skin because his view is obstructed by the kitchen counter. For now, he’s stuck admiring you from the waist up. He bets that he could rip the counter right out of the tiled floor if he tried hard enough, but he knows that as of right now, he has more restraint than that.
No matter what time of the day, not once in any of those twenty-four hours for the past one-thousand-one-hundred-and-eighteen days has he failed to be amazed by how you can make him feel like the asthmatic man he was all of those years ago by simply walking into a room, no matter whether or not you even know that he’s there. You’ve been quieter than usual lately, running endless back-to-back sprints as opposed to marathons inside your brain that wear you out because you refuse to take a water break. He knows what this is - he’s seen it before, watched you run so far only to drop the baton in the relay race at the most critical moment. And as much as he can coach you to not push so hard and pace your running, in the end, you’re the only one who can really make those decisions for yourself.
Of course, you always take his advice in stride, using it to propel yourself those last few meters to the finish line. But time and time again, he’s watched you fall short, letting all the different facets of your overactive and often noisy brain speed past you to snap that finish line tape in half much like the way that they break your soul. Your aura dims considerably in moments like these, despite the glow of the late afternoon sun swallowing the white walls of your apartment and spitting out rays of golden light. One shines right on your face and Steve almost laughs - it’s as if the sun itself knows how deserving you are of the limelight - a star in his eyes having taken center stage in the production of his life.
He’d let you take all of the attention any day. But you’re not like that - as much as you can be his little social butterfly, the taste of pink lemonade and cherry lollipops in your speech, there are still those days when he can both physically and emotionally see you sink in on yourself, the words you speak stinging him in a way that makes his entire body shudder just thinking about it. They always taste like copper to him.
He knows that you don’t mean it. It’s the way you’ve always been and who is he to think that he’s entitled to make you change it? But the way that you deal with what goes on inside your head isn’t healthy. He knows that. You know it, too. And you’re trying. That’s all he can ask for.
And so here he sits on the floor of your living room, large body wedged in the sizable space between the coffee table and the couch that his back rests against. You’re directly in his line of sight - still too far away - but that’s okay because even though you haven’t spared him a glance or uttered a word to him in the past hour, at least you’re together.
Sometimes he regrets the mantle that he carries around - Captain America. True, it is such an integral part of him but he can’t help but resent it some days. It keeps him away from you all too often. Time and time again, people have chased him just to meet the man in red, white, and blue. They’re not interested in the man behind the shield and honestly, he doesn’t know if he is either. There have been plenty of times where he’s spiraled into an identity crisis, unable to separate Steve Rogers from his superhero persona.
But every single time, you’ve been there to work through it right alongside him. You’ve dealt with him at his very lowest - when he was in a hole deeper than rock bottom and couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed in the morning. So there has not been even one moment when Steve has thought about leaving you alone when you get like this. He now knows not to pry just as well as he knows that you don’t want to be by yourself in times like these. You may not explicitly vocalize it, but in the seconds when you do meet his stare across the dinner table or right before you fall asleep, he can see the love housed in the depths of your eyes and that’s more than enough for him.
His own eyes haven’t left you for the better part of the hour. His favorite black leather-bound sketchbook is open to what was once a blank page at the beginning of the day but is now an almost complete sketch of the angel in front of him. The luminosity of the sun on your body reveals your halo, usually hidden during the day but in rare moments like these, he’s able to appreciate your otherworldly presence casually standing in the middle of his kitchen with a hand propped against the edge of the counter. A notebook is set in front of you and Steve never thought that he could be so jealous of an inanimate object before - it’s held your undivided attention for hours.
His eyes widen as you shift, leaning forwards to rest both of your elbows on the counter top to type something on your open laptop and giving him a clear view of your breasts through the gap in the front of your shirt. Your lips have been wrapped around a ballpoint pen for virtually the whole day which is how he knows you’ve been working hard because sucking on the ends of pens always helps you focus. He, on the other hand, can’t seem to focus at all as soon as you whip out one of those godforsaken pens. Steve swallows hard - almost immediately regretting wearing grey sweatpants as he adjusts the crotch as subtly as he can - and tears his eyes away from you to flip to a new page, sketching profusely so as to immortalize this moment in his sketchbook before his mind can even dare to forget it.
In his haste, he doesn’t even realize when the silence is broken by the chime of your voice.
“Steve. Steve.”
His hand moves fast and he’s squinting at the page in concentration, willing his brain to hold onto the picture of you bent over the kitchen counter as if he doesn’t have the real thing standing right in front of him-
“Stevie,” you call out, your brow furrowing slightly in concern. This makes his head snap up - finally - and you can’t help but notice how blown his pupils are and how strategic the placement of his sketchbook seems to be. You can pinpoint the exact moment that he starts to panic. For someone who is usually so stoic, he wears his heart proudly on his sleeve. Realization quite literally dawns on his face but it does nothing to alleviate the dusting of light pink across his cheeks.
“I’m sorry, baby,” his unused voice is raspy but he doesn’t bother clearing his throat, as if he knows exactly how it makes you clench your thighs together where he can’t see them. “I was just really invested in- uh,” he hesitates, gesturing vaguely at the page that you can’t see, “the sketch. What’s goin’ on, doll?”
And the flower of your heart blooms at the look in those eyes that remind you so much of April showers, those eyes that are filled to the brim with the rain that has watered all of the dead and decaying blossoms that line your stomach, crawl up to your ribs and up your throat, their vines climbing up through your skull to wrap around your brain. That look alone, framed by those insanely long eyelashes, has extended a helping hand to your beaten-down spirit, telling it to dust itself off and keep going.
“You’re staring, sweetheart,” Steve’s sinfully pink lips quirk up into a demure smile as he teases you, his thick beard shielding the brief flash of white teeth. You decided a long time ago that the beard has been the best thing to happen to you, as is the long hair that he’s currently running his hands through.
“Sorry,” you say but continue to stare unabashedly at his beautiful face because you don’t mean it. You can’t help the way that your eyes trail down his chest that has woefully been covered by one of his too-tight black t-shirts, though you don’t miss the way that it strains against his bulging biceps, nor the way that it’s slightly rucked up at the bottom which gives you an eyeful of the dark blonde wisps of hair that travel downwards towards one of your favorite parts of his body.
Steve, always so perceptive, doesn’t miss where your gaze has traveled, and he can’t help the self-satisfied smirk that grows on his face. It’s easy to forget that you’ve been down for these past few days when you have seconds like these in between those tired hours when you oversleep and he hasn’t slept at all because he’s too busy watching you.
“See somethin’ you like, baby?” he hums, continuing his sketch absent-mindedly because he knows that the image of you standing in front of him like a dream will forever be ingrained into his memory.
Heat ignites your veins and blooms in your cheeks; you can’t help it when you look away, smiling shyly to the side. Steve has resigned himself to the fact that you won’t answer, going back to tracing careful lines with the point of his pencil.
“In fact, I do,” you murmur, knowing that if it was anybody else, they wouldn’t have heard you. Steve’s eyes meet yours and you can almost taste the saltiness of the ocean on your tongue as he drowns you in their depths. He stands abruptly, casting his book to the side carelessly and taking long strides to get to where you are.
Once his hand lands on your hip, the warmth seeps in through the cotton of your shirt and melts your entire body; it catalyzes the small eruption of the volcano in your chest, causing the burning lava of the breath that you didn’t know you were holding to spill over and out of your mouth in an audible sigh. His other hand soon joins the first, framing your body and pulling you back into him. You stare down at the dusting of hair on his forearms when he slips them around your waist and you squeal when he turns you around in his hold, meeting your eyes with a softness that you weren’t expecting.
“Do you wanna talk about what’s goin’ on with you, sweetheart?” he probes lightly in that same low voice, recognizing your deflection and not wanting to cause that volcano to explode. You bite the inside of your cheek, avoiding eye contact because you don’t want him to worry (you don’t know that he worries about you every second of every day because you’re almost his entire heart) but he grasps your jaw in his right hand. He ducks his head down a little, trying to catch your darting eyes. When they finally rest on him, he thinks that he’s dying because your stare is glassy and your lip is trembling.
“Baby,” he coos, tugging you into his chest. You relent, releasing your hold on his forearms to throw your arms around his middle. It’s hard to hold back the tears anymore: Steve’s concern has kicked down the fragile floodgates of your emotional control. Pressing your head into his chest, he says nothing while your body shakes but it’s better this way. You know that you’d only cry even more if he started speaking. Instead, you inhale gasping breaths between babbling as you try to explain why you haven’t been yourself recently. He listens attentively, rubbing circles into your back and dropping frequent kisses on your forehead.
The room is more orange than yellow by the time you can finally speak coherently.
“M’sorry,” you sniffle into his shirt, fists clenching the material tightly. He pushes you away from him so there’s just enough space for him to lift his hands to your face. Slowly, he wipes any residual tears from your cheeks and underneath your eyes with this thumbs.
“Nothin’ to be sorry for, baby,” he speaks softly, your face still in his hands when he presses a kiss to your nose, both of your now mostly dry cheeks, and then right on top of your lips. It’s chaste, only lasting about a second but it makes your soul sing nonetheless.
You stand in silence for a beat longer, merely staring into each other’s eyes before something flashes in Steve’s eyes. You squish your face to his body again, feeling his chest rise slightly, signifying that he’s about to speak.
“What did you need before, sweetheart?”
You’re confused.
“What do you mean?
“When you were calling me before - what did you need?”
Now you get it.
“Oh- I was just going to ask what you wanted for dinner...”
Your voice falters at the end because - and you have no clue why - this makes Steve throw his head back as he barks out a surprised laugh. You frown, narrowing your eyes at him slightly.
“What?” you ask.
“Nothing - I just love you, that’s all,” he clarifies, casually throwing the sentiment out there because it’s so easy with you. It’s always easy, even when it’s not.
“I love you, too,” you place a lingering kiss on his jaw before pulling back to stare in his eyes with a grave expression on your face. Now it’s his turn to frown in confusion. “But seriously, what do you want for dinner?”
#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x you#steve rogers fanfic#steve rogers fanfiction#steve x reader#steve rogers blurb#steve rogers headcannon#steve rogers imagine#steve rogers#steve rogers blurbs#steve rogers imagines#steve rogers headcannons#marvel fanfiction#marvel imagines#fluff#marvel blurb#angst#hurt/comfort#marvel cinematic universe#steve rogers fluff#steve rogers angst
576 notes
·
View notes
Note
HOLY FUCK ANOTHER SEV AUTHOR- YOU'RE DOING THE LORD'S WORK, MY FRIEND. Whilst I'm here- can I get a Severen and Vamp!reader wherein the reader is the only person who can shut Severen up/get him to calm down? 'Cause I feel like if Sev had a s/o, they really would have that magic touch 🥺🥺💕
I love this bastard man so damn much it hurts tbh. This one was fun to write and I hope you like it!
CW for allusions to an abusive relationship
Severen was rough around the edges anyone with eyes could see that. But somehow you’d managed to soften some of those edges. Even his family was surprised at how effortlessly you’d wrapped Severen around your finger. It seemed to of happened so suddenly. You were leaning over the bar, flagging down the bartender for a shot, when Severen took notice of a patron paying you a little too much attention. He watched as the man sauntered up and leaned next to you, telling the bartender to make it a double and grab him one too before placing a bill down. Severen knew that you were only going to make a meal out of him but he couldn’t help but feel jealousy bubbling up in his chest. He watched as you turned to him and gave him a smile that was only for him and the soon to be deceased. The man spoke to you in a hushed tone and reached out to card his fingers through the hair just above your ear when Severen decided he had seen enough. Maybe it was because he was feeling territorial that day or maybe he was just antsy but he slipped out of the booth that they’d all chosen to occupy and advanced towards the poor son of a bitch. He snaked an arm around your waist and pulled you away from your dinner, making you shoot him a sour look. “Well howdy there, I do believe you’ve made the acquaintance of my lil honey here.” His fingers came under your chin and he tilted your face up to look at him. You pouted stubbornly and Severen chuckled before pecking your forehead, a promise to make it up to you later. “I’m Severen, and you are?” He turned back to the man had a wicked grin on his face. “Well pardon me, I’m just a stranger. It seemed to me that your lil honey here needed a drink. So I just thought I’d be so kind.” Severen’s eyes flickered to the side as the bartended set the shots down on the bar and retreated with his cash. “Well that is mighty kind of ya.” Severen grabbed one of the shots and downed it, sighing in contentment once the liquid cleared his throat. “That’s the good stuff huh?” The booth behind ya’ll tittered with laughter but you only rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. That was your meal your kill, and here was your boyfriend trying to cut in so his stupid big ego wouldn’t be bruised. He looked down to grin at you when he realized you were still glaring at him, your jaw set. Suddenly he was worried he’d stepped out of bounds. “Severen. Go sit down.” The man beside the two of you laughed loudly. “You heard? ‘ey said go sit down.” Severen’s eyes shot between you two, trying to decide if he was going to let this guy talk like that to him or if he was going to get in trouble with you. “Severen...” At your word he backed up, shoved his hands in his pockets and plodded back to the booth. Not only did the man in front of you laugh but you could hear Homer snickering behind you too. You take a step closer to the man and place a hand on his chest. “Attention down here big guy, I still want that drink.” There was no time to process your words before you were leaning up and sinking your teeth into his neck. You wanted to play with your food a little more but for now you decided Severen was humbled enough. But while watching you stop Severen from getting into a fight was already impressive watching you make Severen completely stop a fight was monumental.
They had always wondered why you were alone when Severen found you. Most vampires stuck together, taking in anyone they’d sired like family. It’d always made Jesse nervous that you came from outside their circle, made it harder to trust you. But you’d carved out your own little niche in his family and Jesse’s nerves eventually subsided. That was until you’d been traveling through Nevada. You’d mentioned having lived there before and they figured you wouldn’t mind a return visit. However, once your stolen Spirit hatchback rolled over the city line to LAs Vegas you requested Jesse pull over. He reluctantly obliged before they all watched you calmly exit the vehicle and start walking the opposite direction, back into the desert. Severen stared back at you, open mouthed and baffled. Quickly he scrambled out of his seat and ran after you. “Wait! Y/n Wait! Where the hell ya think you’re goin’?” You turn and point back towards the city. “Anywhere but fucking there.” For the first time since you’d entered the state of Nevada Severen could clearly see the panic that had been surging through you clear on your face. Your pupils were blown wide and your hands were shaking ever so slightly, he approached you cautiously, eyes soft with concern. Grabbing you gently by the wrist Severen pulled you in. You gladly wrapped your arms around him and held onto him tightly. His fingers scratched soothingly at the base our skull and he squeezed you. “Darlin’ what’s wrong?” He finally coaxed you back to the car and on the side of the road, just outside the city limits you told them about the man who made you like this. It wasn’t a sweet story. It wasn’t one you liked to share. But int the end you’d gotten as far away as you could and leaned to survive this new life all alone. Jesse set his jaw eyes looking to Diamondback who nodded before looking back to Severen who did the same. Jesse patted your knee before turning around to start the car again. “We’ll only stop for a bite, we’ll be in the suburbs before daylight.” You’d known you wasted some of their time already, so you only agreed. You all needed to eat. The entire rest of the ride in you gripped Severen’s hand tightly and chewed your bottom lip. He moved only to wrap his arm around you and hold you close. After a moment he pressed his lips to your ear “Don’t worry baby, I’m here. Ain’t no one gonna hurt you. I promise.”
You quickly realized Jesse didn’t really know where he was going so you stepped in to direct him to yet another tiny dive bar. It was one you used to frequent, but by now you knew it’d be all new staff and patrons. The city moved fast but you stayed the same. When you walked in your guess was correct. The bar was just as low key as you remembered, filled with only four customers, and not a single face was recognizable. You and Severen sat at the bar, waiting to be served, and the others took the corner closest to the door. The bartender was taking her sweet time polishing a glass instead of serving you two and you could feel Severen buzzing beside you, restless. Finally a deep voice from behind the two of you drew her attention, a familiar voice that made you go rigid. “I believe you have customers waiting! And important ones at that. Get a round of shots, the good tequila.” You watched as the bartender jumped, nearly dropping the glass she’d been cleaning before scrambling to work. A heavy hand fell on your shoulder and a familiar scent flooded your senses as the man behind you leaned in. “You still like tequila, don’t ya?” You supposed that in hindsight, coming somewhere familiar wasn’t the right choice.
Severen was out of his seat and Jesse was across the room before you could even turn to confirm what you already knew. Severen was about to grab him up when Jesse stepped in, holding his arm out and keeping your boyfriend at bay. But that wouldn’t be enough he practically had to wrestle Severen back to his chair as your own was turned slowly towards the predator behind you. A cold hand that felt nothing like Severen’s comforting one cupped your cheek and he leaned in close. “I knew you’d come back. I waited right here.” “We ain’t lookin’ for trouble, stranger.” Jesse cut in, making him turn away from you. He eyed Severen and laughed. “Might wanna tell that to him.” And just like that Severen ripped himself from Jesse’s grasp and launched at your creator. The two men tumbled to the ground and you jumped to your feet. But before you or anyone else could do anything a well landed punch to the face sent Severen flying back, across the bar. His head cracking loudly against the opposite wall in a way that made you gasp. The man before you calmly go to his feet before moving to take a step towards Severen. At the same time you and Jesse closed in, standing shoulder to shoulder to block his path. “I see you went off and found a new family. I’m hurt. No calls? No postcard? Is that how you treat me after all I gave you?” Jesse placed a hand on his chest, drawing his attention once again. “Like I said we want no trouble. We’ll be out of here.” He shook his head at Jesse, smirking. “Not with her you’re not.” In this time Severen was able to recover enough to slide off the bar and wipe his own blood from his busted lip. You quickly ran back to him and grabbed him by the jacket. His hands instinctively went to your waist as he glared across the bar. You shook him until his gaze finally landed on you. You could still hear the two men conversing tensely in the background but you tuned it out. “Severen, you can not fight him. He’s going to kill you.” Severen barked out a loud laugh, “I’d like to se ‘em try! That punch tickled.” You shook him again but his gaze stayed firmly put across the room this time. You glanced back to see Diamondback at the door standing guard and Jesse doing his best to ease the tension on his end. “Severen you promised. You promised to protect me. And I don’t feel very fucking safe right now.” And he could hear it, the way your voice wavered. He’d never once seen you afraid. Not like this. Your grip on his jacket tightened and finally he relented. His posture relaxing a fraction. His hands reeled you in closer. “Then let’s go...” You directed Severen towards a back door, Mae and Homer quick to take the queue to follow. They filed out just ahead of you. Severen stayed firmly put just inside the bar and you were just outside, both waiting for Jesse and Diamondback. Slowly they both retreated as well. Diamond back grabbed your shoulders to guide you away and Jesse grabbed Severen’s to do the same. Before the door could fall shut you heard it, one last taunt. “You’ll be back!”
When you all piled into the car, still hungry and a bit shaken, you wanted to cry. For the first time in a long time you wanted to sob. But you didn’t. Instead you tilted your head back and looked up at the roof of the car, cool hands running over your face. You hadn’t been that scared since you left. And now you were sure if your heart could still beat it’d be palpitating painfully. Silently Jesse started the car and took off. None of you knew where to go from here other than out of Vegas.
41 notes
·
View notes
Text
Dean and Death Have More in Common Than Their Shared Taste in Fast-Food
Remember when God (Chuck) said OG Death was into fried pickles and tickle porn? Yeah, Dean already knew that. Set early season 11, after Dean killed death and Sam and team set Amara free. Mainly angst in this one, there will be a part two (When? Who knows, it might be tomorrow, it might be next week, who know? I certainly don’t)
~~~
It had been a few hours since Dean had almost killed Sam, actually killed Death, and Rowena freed whatever black storm cloud came barging out of what seemed like middle earth. This was the first free moment he had to really process what just happened, and none of that was what he was currently focused on at this moment. No, he was more concerned about the conversation he and Death had had, waiting for Sam to arrive.
“We have more in common than you might think.”
He kept hearing Death’s words over and over again.
“If you somehow find a way to weasel your way out of this like you Winchesters are so well known for. Take this, I think you might find its contents…soothing in times of need.”
His words were like nails on a chalkboard inside Deans skull as he held the small USB drive in his hand. What the hell did he mean by soothing? He was wracking his brain for anything that might be on the drive. What if it was a trap? But Death didn’t know Dean was going to kill him - hell, he didn’t even know he was going to kill him. He didn’t even think he could. Maybe it was information they needed to beat this Darkness… whatever it was.
Before he could think twice, he inserted the USB into the slot of his laptop and waited for the information to download. A couple grueling seconds went by before a folder popped up on the screen labelled ‘Death’s saved videos for DW’.
Videos? Videos? Dean was now royally confused, but opened the folder nonetheless. A list of saved files opened up, none with specific names. Just a jumble of letters and numbers. Whatever they were, Death clearly wanted them to be ominous. Why wouldn’t he give them real names? Maybe this really was information that could be used in the newest apocalypse.
He clicked the first one, hopeful for any information that may be used. What he witnessed instead, though, seemed more like the opening to a porn video? He didn’t peg Death for the porn type, and doubly did not like the fact that Death thought he knew Dean’s porn preferences.
He was about to exit the tab and pretend that never happened when a strangled laugh fell from his laptops speakers. Looking at the scene in front of him, there was a man in only his boxers strapped to an X table. His ankles and thighs strapped down with leather belts, similar belts around his biceps and wrists, and the last one around his chest, all keeping him well secured. The next thing Dean noticed were skilled fingers attached to a beautiful mistress laden in only black underwear and a frilly bra wiggling her manicured nails into the man’s ribs, causing forced laughter to pour out.
His eyes went wide, mouth drying almost instantly. He shut his laptop faster than the first time Cas caught him watching porn all those years ago and swiveled his head, making sure no one was around. Sure, it was his room and he knew no one was in there, but the paranoia of getting caught was far greater than his rational thought. Once he knew he was alone, he let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He shook out the excess anxiety from his fingers before standing up and walking to his desk. He opened the bottom drawer and fished out his bulky headphones before repositioning himself on the bed.
Dean took a deep breath, shakily covering his ears with the headphones and plugged them into his laptop. One video wouldn’t hurt, right? Help that itch he could never scratch? He closed his eyes, taking one more deep breath before he slowly opened his laptop and let the laughter fill his ears once more.
~~
One video turned into two, two turned into four, and before long a couple hours had gone by. Dean, of course, hadn’t noticed how long it had been, and was so engrossed in the scene in front of him, he didn’t hear the knocking at his door. So, when there was a warm hand on his shoulder, he let out a small yelp, and slammed his laptop closed before looking up. He was met with concerned blue eyes. He removed his headphones rather ungracefully and willed his panic to subside.
“Sorry Dean, I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you okay?” Cas asked.
“Y-yeah, I’m good. Damnit, Cas, you could have knocked.” Dean answered, annoyance clear in his voice.
“I did knock. You didn’t answer. I got worried.”
“Well no need to worry, I was…” Dean gestured to his laptop, instinctually about to tell Cas, before he remembered what he was actually doing. “Uhm, nothing, I was doing nothing. I’m fine, you’ve checked on me, you can go.”
Cas rolled his eyes at the hunter. “Dean, I know you watch porn,” Cas said, amused.
“I was not watching porn!”
He was met with a quizzical look, “What were you doing then? You closed your computer pretty fast.”
Shit. Shit shit shit. Dean and his stubbornness. He’d just dug himself into a hole.
“Uhm, nothing. Death just gave me something at our last meeting. Nothing important.” He stammered, hoping it was good enough for Cas to leave it alone.
Of course it wasn’t.
“Dean, if Death gave you something, it could be useful for fighting the darkness. And we need anything and everything we can find to help.” He argued, reaching for the laptop thrown on the mattress haphazardly.
Dean reached for the laptop, panic quickly rising back up, but as his hand met his duvet rather than cold metal, his eyes widened.
“Wait. Wait wait, Cas don’t, please, give it back! No!”
“This is not just your fight, Dean.” Cas threw a glare in his direction before turning back to the laptop, unplugging the headphone cord, and opening it.
What Cas was met with, was not what the angel was expecting as the room was filled with laughter emanating from the laptop resting in his palm. His eyes went wide, jaw slack. Dean used this as an opening to swoop in and grab it before shutting it again and shoving it under his pillow.
Once the laptop was hidden from sight, he felt realization finally dawn on him. Every muscle in his body tensed as he screwed his eyes shut, his back still turned towards the angel.
“Dean…” Cas started, watching the man in front of him flinch at his name. He took a couple steps forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. Dean violently shrugged it off, but still hadn’t said anything, not trusting his voice. Cas watched his face tighten more before it was turned away from him again.
“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t...” Cas trailed off again, lost for words.
“It’s. It’s fine. Just. Just go.” His voice was so small, so broken.
Cas walked toward the door, allowing himself one last look at the hunter still standing in the middle of the room, like if he didn’t move he couldn’t be seen. He sighed, still lost for words, before he finally left, shutting the door behind him.
~~~
It had been three days since Dean had seen Cas, and he finally decided it was time to venture out of his room. He had run out of his emergency food stash, and had convinced himself Cas had forgotten the whole ordeal that went down less than a week ago. Sure he was still replaying the events over and over, but Cas had much more to worry about than Deans extracurricular activities. He took a few hesitant steps out of his room, before beelining it to the kitchen. He was not ready to run into the angel, even if he was convinced he’d forgotten about it. The memory was still too raw.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he walked into the kitchen and only saw Sam, reading a lore book and picking at a salad.
“Hey,” Dean greeted, walking in and opening the fridge.
“Oh look, he’s alive! How’re you feeling?” Sam asked, barely looking up from his book.
“I’m alright… Have you seen Cas lately?” Dean was pretty sure Cas wouldn’t have said anything, but he had to be sure.
“Nah, he looked a little puzzled a few days ago, but hasn’t really left the library. I think he’s trying to find what he can on the Darkness,” Sam replied, finally looking up, “why?”
“No, nothing, just curious.”
After Dean had finished making and eating a meal consisting of too much grease and an offhand remark from Sam about his cholesterol, he started back toward his room. Or, he thought he was going toward his room. His legs had other plans. He stopped outside the library doors, questioning if he really wanted to do this now. He had to know if Cas had forgotten. Faith was one thing, but he never truly believed in faith. He had to know. Needed proof that he could relax again. So with a deep sigh, he pushed himself through the doors before he could convince himself not to.
He felt every muscle in him tense as his eyes met the trench coated man sifting through the books on one of the walls. He watched his fingers lightly graze each book before they landed on the one he needed. A shiver went down Dean’s back imagining the light touch skimming down his own ribs.
No. No- he cannot be thinking about that right now. Cas had forgotten, it will never happen. He cleared his throat, willing the intruding thoughts away.
“Hello, Dean,”
He wasn’t sure why, but the sound of his voice punched him in the gut, and a wave of anxiety barreled over him.
“H-hey Cas, sorry, uhm, I just came to see if I could find anything on the Darkness. H-have you found anything yet?” He went for cool and collected, but fell short, leaning towards scared and pathetic. He winced at his words as he watched Cas for any indication that he had noticed. When Cas just pulled the chosen book from the shelf and opened it he sighed in relief.
“No, not yet, it’s slow going. Hard to find information on something that hasn’t been seen since the dawn of creation.” He looked up, giving a small smile.
Dean immediately averted his gaze. He didn’t mean to, really, he didn’t. But looking him in the eyes was just too much. He scolded himself again. What happened to walking in here with his normal bristly attitude?
“Okay, well, uhh, if you just want to hand me some books, I’ll just be on my way-” Dean started, hands fumbling with a loose string in the hem of his flannel. He was cut off hearing his name.
“Dean,” He flinched involuntarily, hearing his name in the same tone he did a few days ago. Of course he hadn’t forgotten. He’s an angel.
“Cas, just. It’s fine, just drop it.” Irritation and fear laced his words as he walked to grab a pile of books laid out on the coffee table. “I’ll just take these to my room, I’ll let you know if I find anything.”
“Dean!”
“What? What is it Cas? What part of ‘drop it’ do you not understand? You walked in, I kicked you out. It’s a new day. Can we please move on?” Dean pleaded more than anything.
“No. We can’t. What is going on? I have never seen you react like this before.” Cas put his book down, and started toward the hunter, seeing him visibly tense, eyes averting from his own again.
“Please, Cas. I can’t.”
“Can’t what? It’s not like I’ve walked in on you watching worse than tickling before.” Cas tried.
Dean screwed his eyes shut, taking a step back, and grabbing the wall to center himself.
“Don’t. Please. Don’t make me talk about this.”
“Talk about what? So what if I saw? I just don’t understand what the big deal is.” Cas clearly started becoming more frustrated, but tried to keep his voice calm.
“Because it’s embarrassing, okay? It’s… it’s embarrassing.” Dean hung his head, his hands finding that loose string again, before he turned, hoping he’d make it to the door.
“Why?” Cas asked. He didn’t sound judgmental, or cruel. Just curious, he honestly wanted to know. And that made it a hundred times worse, in Deans opinion.
“I, uh. Nothing, can I just go, please?” Dean’s voice was so small, Cas almost didn’t register his words.
“I just want to understand, Dean.” Cas laid a hand on his shoulder, feeling every muscle tense at the touch.
Vulnerable. Raw. That’s all Dean felt as Cas’s hand collided with his shoulder. It burned his skin, nerve endings lighting up like they were caught under Hell’s flame. All he wanted to do was curl up and pretend this never happened. He was right. This really was a trap. Death really did get the last word, huh? He laughed to himself wryly.
“What?” Cas asked.
“Nothing, nothing… just thinking, this situation is kind of laughable.” He wiped his hand down his face, trying desperately to find a way out. Maybe he could just run out the door. That seemed feasible.
Apparently Cas was a step ahead of him, as he felt the hand on his shoulder grip tighter. Guess he wasn’t running from this one.
“Dean, just. Don’t run away. Talk to me. Why is this such a big deal?” Cas asked again.
“It’s a big deal ‘cause I like it! Okay?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted it. He felt the heat in his ears growing molten, and he wanted to crawl out of his own skin.
“You like it?” Cas asked. “Like, tickling people?” His hand tightened more, verging on painful.
“N-no…”
Cas watched Dean’s entire body tense, his legs went stiff, back straightening ever so slightly, Cas was sure the muscles were showing under his flannel and black t-shirt. His arms subtly curled into his sides, like he was trying to protect them.
Finally, it clicked. He was honestly surprised it took him this long.
“Oh…oh, I see.” Cas replied, taking a step closer to the hunter. “Does anyone else know?” Cas whispered into Dean’s ear. He revelled in the shaky breath that left his lips.
“N-no, no one else. C-can I go now? We-we gotta-” He clamped his mouth shut when he felt Cas’s other hand grab his bicep.
Cas let the hand squeezing his shoulder drop, letting his fingers brush the back of his ribs gently before dropping to his side. He smiled wickedly at the small gasp that left Dean’s mouth as he arched away from the touch.
“You could go; I did get the information I wanted. But the real question now is, do you, Dean Winchester, want to go?”
Dean stayed silent.
Cas’s other arm left his bicep. He was about to leave, thinking Cas had backed out, not wanting to cross a line. But then there were two sets of fingers lightly placed on either side of the back of his ribs. They were stagnant, unmoving, but clearly there. Waiting for their order.
Dean inhaled sharply, and then immediately forgot how to breathe. His arms tightened closer to his sides, his abdomen went rigid. He could feel his heart in his throat.
“The doors right there, Dean. What’s it going to be?”
#supernatural#deancas#preslash#kinda#ticklish!dean#near the end#this is a setup fic#there will be more#i promise#maybe#these two are going to kill me
32 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Line in the Sand - Pt. 2
Intro - Part 1| - MasterList
Another part of this lovely Lizardman for @ivymemnoch‘s commissioned Monster Match. It’s fun to have all these lovely little misunderstandings between them. In this section, Devaraj’s reveals a bit more about his profitable work, and Sera thinks about taking off.
Want your own Monster Match? DM me for prices! Check out my MasterList above for a smattering of other stories and ramblings, and please feel free to BuyMeACoffee while you are there.
Always looking for ART-spiration, so feel free to drop me an ask or comment with some of your thoughts!
In the end, I’m not sure what woke me. Was it the soft thrum of insects, waking with the first rays of dawn? Or perhaps it was the soft twitter of birds, that grew from a petering distant echo to a soothing trill around me. I remember hearing the soft snorting huff of Nur, sensing the big draft had wandered close to my sleeping spot. Feeling his heavy steps shake the ground slightly before he drifted off again. Whatever the cause, my eyes slowly opened, and a yawn stretched my mouth.
It took me a few belated moments to reconcile my current place with my memories of the previous evening. I blinked groggily a few times, rolling and looking about. As my brain woke more, I considered the soft tented cloth over my head, and the warm bedroll around me. The scent of sand came to my mind, but not to my nose, and I realized I was alone in the makeshift shelter once more.
I rolled again, shifting and shaking the last of the sleep from my eyes. Managing to pull myself up and look around the small clearing. But the reptilian man was nowhere to be seen. Nur stood by the side of the small nest we had made, snuffing and huffing at some dried branches. The saddle and bags were still where I had left them the night before. So wherever he had gone… It couldn’t have been far…
“...Shri?” I called hesitantly, rubbing at my arms as I emerged from the soft warmth of the blankets. There was no answer, and straining my ears, no sound of movement.
Slowly, I crawled out from beneath the tent, peering between the bows and trunks of the trees around us. I could just make out the road in the distance, and sighed as the soft crackle of leaves crunched under my boots. For a moment, I thought this might be a blessing… and opportunity to escape. Certainly he was out of sight and earshot, and he had opportunely left all of his supplies behind. I wandered over to the bags, glancing at Nur almost guiltily as if the horse might betray my malicious thoughts. I shifted from foot to foot, glancing about. But I was confident the strange man was nowhere near.
I kneeled beside the bags, and started to reach out to one. Then I hesitated. A flash of intense yellow eyes, the glint of teeth. Not frightening, but instead… friendly. Welcoming. Kind. I sighed again, shaking my head at the nerve of my conscience and dropping my hand. I also couldn’t quite shake the reminder of his words when I had asked him if he was worried I might steal from him; “You could certainly try. It would be amusing.” … I wondered if perhaps there was a magical charm on the items, or if there was some sort of anti-thief trap… Well, I would just wait, I determined. Until we reached the next town. That way, I wouldn’t have to risk anything nor take his supplies, and could simply slip away into the shadows. Honestly, it was probably for the best I left. I doubted he knew exactly what kind of trouble he had gotten himself into when he had signed me on.
Shaking myself again, I stood and slowly pivoted on one foot. Looking around the small clearing again. Wondering where exactly my new ‘employer’ had gone. I walked over to Nur, who lifted his behemoth head as I approached and wuffed softly, his huge flanks fluttering with the deep breath. He nudged me with his big nose, his nostrils flaring, and being that his head was almost the size of my entire torso, even that gentle touch had me staggering a step to maintain my balance. He snorted again, taking a step towards me and flattening his forelock against my chest. I scratched behind his speckled grey ears absent-mindedly, still looking about.
“Do you know where he went?” I asked the gelding, then had to jerk back to avoid being tossed aside as he lifted his head and shook it with another loud snort. I smiled, wondering if that was a real answer, and patted his velvety nose. “Well, I suppose I should go look for him then?”
Nur looked at me with his big, dark eyes, and no answer seemed forthcoming. I ran my hand up and down his nose, then turned and considered my options. The way back towards the road seemed mostly clear; unless he had gone there and travelled up or down its length a ways, I should be able to see him from where we were camped. So that left the notion that he had headed deeper into the woods. I gave Nur a final pat, then began to pick my way through the woods beyond.
“Shri?” I called softly, the unfamiliar word still heavy on my tongue.
I was careful to keep a scan of the surroundings as I moved, not wanting to accidentally miss him during my search. I doubted that would be very likely; even with the vegetation, the man was far too large and broad to simply hide in plain sight. Though his mottled green scales might blend rather well with the shifting foliage. The chill night before reminded me that fall would be upon us sooner rather than later, though the air was very mild now. I wondered briefly how the cold-blooded lizard man would fare in the snows, and had an amusing image of him hibernating in a log cabin with a roaring fire and a bloated belly. A few yards in, I heard the sound of running water; perhaps a small stream nearby. I decided that it might have also drawn his attention, and turned to make my way towards it.
I caught sight of his shoulders between the trunks of the trees, and almost sighed with relief. I didn’t notice until I had broken through the treeline that it was not the beaten grey of his cloak that caught the fresh morning sunlight, but the green of his bare scales. A delayed heartbeat later, I realized he was completely without clothes again. I nearly fell over as I staggered to a halt, frozen in place by the full sight of him, unobscured by steam or darkness.
The crisp golden rays splashed down his broad shoulders, pricking his mottled green into a smoky emerald color. The scales looked smooth, and rippled as he drew in long, deep breaths. His broad shoulders were squared, and I was again stunned by their width, at least double my own. From this angle I could clearly see the base of his four dark grey horns protruding from his skull before curling forward, and the delicate fan of the leathery skin on the top of his head between the spikes. I followed the curve of his spine down his muscular back, each muscle more pronounced and defined by the shape of his large scales. Tracing down to the point of his spine, just about his bottom, where his tail protruded. It was long and thick, perhaps thicker than my thigh, with a flat top studded with the soft flat spikes on either ridge. I hadn’t gotten nearly so good a look at it before... I wondered how much he could move it. He had it half curled around, forming a semi-circle around his large, muscular legs which were neatly folded in a criss-cross pattern beneath him. I could see his huge arms were relaxed, palms resting open on his knees and the soft yellow/cream color of the scales there bathing in the light.
“Good morning, Sera.” He called lightly without looking over his shoulder. His thick voice had me jumping in surprise. I saw his head tilt, saw the flash of his yellow eye as he considered me out of its corner. “I trust you slept well.”
If he was upset I had been spying on him, he didn’t show it. Nor did he seem particularly concerned that he was completely without clothes; I noticed them folded neatly into a pile beside him. I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the pulsing of my blood beneath my cheeks.
“Ah… Apologies, shri… I did not mean-”
He made a noise deep in his chest, shaking his great horned head. “I am merely greeting the sun, Sera. There is no need for your words.” The tip of his tail twitched. “Come, join me.”
“Greeting the sun?” I echoed, venturing closer tentatively.
He nodded looking up at me. Even sitting, his head was nearly to my shoulders. “Yes. I believe it is similar to how you humans… what is the term, break fast?”
I started to answer, then suddenly gave a soft ‘eep!’ instead as his hand wrapped around my wrist and yanked, firmly but gently. I tumbled onto his lap, and he wrapped his huge arms around me. I was so startled, my mouth dropped open, and I froze. A deep rumble formed in his chest, vibrating against my cheek, and his thick flat tail came around and dropped heavily across my lap. Further entombing me in his embrace.
“W-what are you doing?” I stammered, so surprised I forgot to try to wriggle free.
His scaled brows were arched slightly when I finally managed to pull my head far enough back to look up at him. I stiffened as I felt the tip of his tail flick where it had fallen on the inside of my thigh. A fresh wave of heat washed through me, and not all of it went to my face. Pressed against him, I was once again surrounded by the scent of sand. His scales were smooth and silky over his firm muscles, and I was given the distinct expression of touching a rock that had been warmed by the sun. Part of me wanted to run my hands over those scales. To feel the grooves and see if they lifted and overlapped or met carefully at the edges.
“I am returning your warmth, Sera. As you so kindly shared yours with me last night.” His words brought me to the present and I jumped a little. He titled his head curiously to the side. “Though you seem quite warm already. Have you been sunbathing as well?”
“N-no,” I finally remembered how to move, and started to wriggle, trying to right myself and scramble out of his arms, “I just woke up and found you gone so-”
“Ah, I forget that humans do not sunbathe. Save for pleasure.”
I found the way his tongue rolled over the word ‘pleasure’ was far too much for me. He unwrapped his arms but otherwise did not try to help or hinder my fight to regain my feet. I clumsily rolled from his lap onto the soft grass in front of him first onto my bottom then settling on my knees, glancing up at him through my lashes. His long scaled lips curled back again, revealing those sharp teeth in what I assumed was a smile. His tongue slipped out, and I swallowed hard again as a tingling rush went through my body. I cleared my throat, and rubbed at the back of my neck.
“How long have you been out here?” I asked, trying to change the subject and looking for something else to stare at besides his broad chest.
He gave a soft hmm, eyelids drooping in a pleased manner. “As soon as the air began to warm this morning. But now that you are up, we can be on our way.”
I fell back on my hands as he stood, his big body moving with a languid grace that I found surprising for his size. I craned my head back to look up at him, and couldn’t help my jaw dropping open a bit. By the Gods he was big… and there was far too much of him to see without his clothes. I couldn’t help skimming my eyes over a particularly private point between his hips (if only ever so briefly on the way up to his face) and was slightly surprised to see… nothing. The same smooth scales of his stomach as far as my quick glance had perceived. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed. My mind wandered dangerously and I felt my cheeks flushing darker. He offered me that toothy, lipless grin again and his large clawed hand. I wondered if he knew what I was thinking, and my guilt had me hot at the collar as I sheepishly put my hand in his.
“Why not head back,” He told me as he gently pulled me to my feet, “Start packing camp while I get dressed. We should be able to reach the next town in an hour or two, and can have our meal at their tavern. Yes?”
I nodded, my tongue still too large for my mouth and my head still buzzing with thoughts that really should never be brought to light. I didn’t wait for further instruction, heading back between the boughs. Within a few minutes, I broke through the trees to find Nur nosing the tent canvass curiously. He raised his big head when I approached, and gave a huff that sounded oddly disinterested for a horse. I patted his velvety nose briefly, then went about rolling back up the tent and bedroll and tying it tight. Trying hard to dislodge the image of sun warmed scales from my mind. I was just hoisting up the saddle with both hands when Devaraj returned, his scarf hanging loose about his shoulders but otherwise fully dressed again. I couldn’t help the wandering eye that drifted down the edge of his low collar as he strode over.
“Excellent, thank you, Sera.” He praised me, taking the saddle from me and easily slinging it over Nur’s back. The draft bobbed his head almost eagerly.
I was glad he had returned when he did; I wasn’t sure I would easily be able to reach the big horse’s back. As he secured the straps, I gathered up the bags and bedroll over my shoulders and carried them over.
“Do you have… business in the next town?” I asked, curious despite myself. I realized suddenly that my opportunity to part ways with the reptilian man would be coming sooner than expected... It left me with a strange tingling regret in my chest.
“Not in the town, as such, but in their crypt.” He told me, taking the bundles and slinging them behind the saddle. I moved around to the other side to secure them there.
“Their crypt?” I echoed, surprised.
“Yes, crypt is where-”
“I know what a crypt is,” I interrupted, and slipped under Nur’s neck to come around to the same side as him again, “But what business do you have at a crypt??”
His toothy grin returned. “Ah, I am what my people call a prizrasha. A… charmer, I suppose would be the best translation. Of spirits.”
“...Excuse me?”
“Yes? Do you need to pass?” He looked at me, his fierce eyes curious. “Why do you say ‘excuse me’? Do you need some time to yourself?”
“No.. I mean... “ I shook my head, blinking stupidly a few times trying to sort myself out. “I-I said it like… excuse me, as in I’m not sure… I’m not sure I heard you correctly.”
“Ah! Excellent, I did not know this.” He started to turn back to finishing securing the saddle and removing Nur’s hobble. “I said I was a prizrasha, as my people call us. And we are spirit charmers.”
“Y-yes, I heard the words,” I stammered, stepping out of the way as he moved to secure the reins and flip them over the gelding’s head, “I’m just not certain I understand what you mean by… “spirit charmers”.”
“Hmm.” He patted Nur’s flank, turning to look at me. “I suppose it is a rather inadequate description.” He stood by his mount’s head, taking up the reins and jerking his chin towards the road as he began to lead him out. “What is it that your people call ‘spirits’?”
“A ghost.” I replied, following him hesitantly. “A phantom. The… spirit of someone who has died that lingers on this plane.” I tried to keep the shiver from my voice.
He nodded along as I spoke. “I believe I see. This is a part of it, I am sure. However, I suppose the translation is poor… Nessiim have a stronger word for it. The dushrasha. It is the spirit of those who have passed, yes, but it is also in those still living.” He paused, seeming to struggle for words. “It is… hard to explain in this tongue.”
“So… What is it that you do with the… dushrasha?” I asked timidly, trying to keep the fear out of my voice. If I had thought him strange before, I certainly found my previous thoughts on him downright dull compared to them now.
“I charm them.” He replied, his voice light with the teasing tone returned to it. “A prizrasha speaks to the spirit and can cure what ails it. It is a form of healing that is not limited to the living.”
We had reached the road now, and Devaraj pivoted Nur to face the right direction before turning to me. I took a step back warily, then stopped myself. I placed a steadying hand on the draft’s flank, turning over his words in my head.
“... I-I’m still not sure I understand what it is you do-”
“It is rather simple, I suppose,” He placed his hands on his hips, looking down at me with his head tilted to the side, “A prizrasha is uniquely skilled at dealing with all manner of things. Sometimes, I am called to deal with a so-called malevolent spirit, other times to heal someone deeply scarred beyond the reach of local healers. Yet other times, to deal with untamable beasts.”
I opened my mouth to say more, but was silenced by the gasp that escaped instead as he hoisted me up, his big hands scooping around my waist, and sat me at the horn of the saddle. I quickly adjusted, swinging one leg over so I could properly sit rather than riding side-saddle again. A breath later the leather squeaked as he bounded up into place behind me. I tried not to stiffen as I felt the rough material of his tunic brush my back. Nur was already moving before he had fully settled, eager to be off.
“And for this particular… job?” I managed, my voice whisper soft.
“A dushrasha has been harassing the town, or so I am told.” He explained. “I will be seeing what ails it, and hopefully helping it leave this plane to its final resting place.”
A shiver went down my spine, and I jumped a little as his big arm came around my hips. Perhaps it was meant as a reassuring gesture, but instead it had me swallowing the lump that formed in my throat at his words. It’s fine, I told myself, you’ll be leaving soon. It doesn’t matter what he does.
“Have I upset you?” He asked as he used his big thighs to steer Nur around a deep rut in the road. I was surprised that his voice sounded… concerned.
“Ah.. n-no shri.” I assured him, and hoped again that part of his strangeness did not extend to being able to detect a lie. “I am just… surprised…”
“Dushrasha are not evil, Sera, even those without a body left on the mortal plane.” He told me as we rode along. “Most are pained, or tied by some grief or unfinished business. In both the living and the dead.” I felt his chin come to rest on the top of my head. “Think of me as a Healer, though perhaps at times this word is also a stretch.”
I nodded, falling silent. Trying to reconcile with the writing snake that was my stomach turning knots in my gut. We rode quietly for a time, and I tried not to pay too much attention to the soft sensation of his chest rising and falling against my back. I jumped again as his arm coiled about my middle suddenly flexed.
“If you are afraid, Sera… Please do not be.” He told me, his muzzle now beside my ear. My eyes flicked to the corners, as if they would be able to see him from there without moving my head. His long tongue flicked out, nearly grazing my cheek as it did. “I will keep you safe. No harm shall come to you, I promise.”
I felt my blush returning, and dipped my chin down. A thousand different possible responses came to my lips, but I could abide by none of them passing beyond. So I remained silent, giving only another curt nod in response.
It mattered not, within another hour we were at our destination. A small hamlet with a dozen buildings or so clustered around a main field. There were other houses in the distance, likely farmers and hunters. I doubted there were many people here who did not live off the land. We rode over a crest in the hill, then down the long muddy road. Heads raised as we passed, and whispers were quickly exchanged. I saw more than a few shoulders tense and hands go for the nearest item passable for a weapon. I shifted in the saddle, but a glance over my shoulder did not reveal how Devaraj felt about his welcome.
We rode unmolested into the center of town, stopping beside the tavern (as indicated by an old swinging sign in the shape of a foaming mug over its door). Nur tossed his head and snorted in irritation, obviously displeased with the likelihood of being stalled again. He scooped one meaty hoof into the soft ground, tossing clumps behind him as Devaraj slid from the saddle behind me.
“Go and procure us some food, yes?” He told me as he helped me down from the saddle. “I will secure Nur and bring in our bags. Then we shall notify the town leaders that we have arrived.”
I glanced over his shoulder at the numerous eyes lingering on us as he dug through the purse at his hip and pressed a few coins into my hands. Based upon what I saw, I doubted very much we would need to announce our arrival.
But I did as I was told and turned to duck into the tavern. Ignoring the eyes following me and the whispers brushing just beneath the scope of my hearing. I wondered briefly how good Devaraj’s hearing was.
The tavern was dim, dusty, and in disrepair. There were a few patchy holes in the rafters that allowed thin beams of broken sunlight to filter past the old wooden frame and hit the dirt ground below, and were the main source of late as the windows were far too grimy to provide much. A spattering of tables, mostly empty save for a few seedy sorts nursing chipped mugs, and a greasy bar at the far wall that looked as though it had seen better days. A few heads raised as the door thunked closed behind me, but interest was quickly lost in favor of whatever content they sipped from their cups. I made my way over to the bar, where a large bellied man sat rubbing at a mug with a dirty cloth.
“Ay, miss, what’ll ye need?” He asked as I approached, his voice gruff but polite.
I nodded to him in greeting. “Two breakfast plates. Sausage, egg, biscuits. The whole works if you have it.”
He returned my nod, placing the cup on the counter and slinging the cloth over his shoulder. “No’ a problem, miss. That’ll be three piece, yeah?” When I dropped the coin in his extended meaty hand, he gave me a cheery, broken toothed grin. “Ye’ll be wanting something to wet yer palate too?”
“Ale would be fine.” I replied, leaning against the bar for a moment and glancing around. The man disappeared into the back room, and I heard pots clanging and the creak of a stove cover opening.
I lingered for a minute on my meal request. Wondering if it would be sufficient. After all, I had forgotten to ask what Nessiim ate. I chewed over this for another moment, before a sudden wave of realization washed over me like a bucket of cold water splashed at my back. This was my opportunity. Devaraj would be otherwise occupied, and I could easily make myself scarce even in a town as small as this. Maybe even catch a ride with a traveling merchant or farmer to the next town. Certainly I didn’t want to have anything to do with his… work. A shiver worked its way down my spine at the thought of our earlier conversation. But it was quickly replaced by the skipping beat of my heart in my breast at the memory of his muzzle next to my ear… I will keep you safe. No harm shall come to you, I promise... I rubbed my fingers against the worn wood of the bar, trying and failing to assess why I suddenly felt so reluctant to leave. I had always been on my own, for as long as I could remember. What could possibly make me want to change that now? I glanced about again as my anxiousness rose, and my palms itched to relieve the room of their valuables, sparse as the pickings would be. Something to take my mind off… I shook my head and sighed. Resisting the urge.
The door thunked open again and I peeked over my shoulder to watch the reptilian man duck his huge horned head to fit beneath its frame. His entrance had the current patrons reacting much differently than my own; I saw them stiffen, uncurling from over their drinks and wary scowls quickly forming on their lips. If he noticed, Devaraj made no indication. His sharp yellow eyes settled on me and he gave a gentle nod before making his way over to an empty corner table. The closest adjacent table’s occupants quickly took their leave, gathering their things and scuttling to another table. I frowned, surprised by the abject fear I felt wafting off the patrons. Sure, he was an unusual specimen. But he was hardly aggressive looking... Or was I simply biased now?
I pivoted to attend to the barkeep, who’s return had returned preceded by the creaking of hinges from the kitchen door. He had two iron plates piled high with greasy looking food, and he plopped them down in front of me.
“Lemme get yer ale, Miss.” He told me. I returned a polite smile.
“Hey! Scaly!” Came a loud voice from behind me, and I stiffened slightly. “What the hell is wrong with you? You some sort of… devil spawn?”
I turned in time to see one of the burlier men approaching the corner table boldly. His shirt was stained and filled with holes, and he had a large crooked nose he looked down to glare at Devaraj. He had nothing on my companion’s muscle, but was certainly tall and heavy set enough to cause trouble.
“Indeed not, sir.” Came the thick reply, and I noticed the reptilian man’s usually airy tone had been replaced by a twitchingly harsh edge.
“Don’t ‘sir’ me, scales. I’m not your sir.” Growled the man. “We don’t let devils around here.”
Devaraj blinked slowly at the man, and I noticed his long tongue dart out briefly. The man stiffened at the sight, his eyes widening by a hair. But then he gritted his teeth, and I noticed his fists ball. I quickly gathered the plates in hand and bustled over to the table.
“Apologies for the delay,” I told Devaraj quickly, laying a plate in front of him and deftly putting my body between him and the irritated patron, “I hope this will be to your satisfaction.”
“Oi!” Came the expected grunt from behind me. I turned, pretending to just have noticed the man. He looked me up and down, scowling. But I saw a seed of doubt forming in his eyes. “.. You know this beast?”
“Beast?” I scoffed, hand to my chest, “By all that is holy, you must be joking. You mean you don’t recognize him?? You are the true beast if you would think him as much!”
The man blinked stupidly, my insult flying over his head. “...Eh?”
I placed my hands on my hips. “Well, I do apologize, I had believed you to be a traveled and educated man who would know a Spirit Charmer when he saw one!” My dry tone was lost on him, and I sighed deeply. “And here we are, summoned by your own leaders and treated to such disrespect!”
I noticed the rest of the room suddenly rapt with full attention. I squared my shoulders and craned my neck up to look at the man before me. I saw him glance around to his companions, becoming more uncertain by the minute. He reached up and rubbed at the back of his neck.
“... Spirit Charmer, you say?”
“Yes! One of the best, for which I am certain you are all proud that your leaders were able to procure one of such notoriety!” I cocked my head to the side at him. “Unless we were mistakenly misinformed to your… troubles.”
I saw more than a few more spines stiffen, and the barkeep came slowly over with the two mugs of ale. I saw him eye Devaraj warily, then turned his attention back to me.
“Yer here about the spirit at the craig crypts?” He asked tentatively, placing the mugs on the table.
“The very ones.” I bluffed, hoping that was indeed what we were here for. “Have you been plagued long?”
The barkeep and his patron exchanged a look, and the crooked nosed man nodded slowly. “Ay, miss, we have. There’s a terrible keening most nights, and the things’ been killing sheep now… We’re worried it might be takin’ the children next.”
“Has anyone passed lately?” Devaraj asked, speaking up for the first time. “Or has the crypt been disturbed?”
“...There’s an old legend of a man who lived out by the craigs...” The barkeep answered hesitantly, glancing at the scaled man over my shoulder. “Folks’ be suspectin’ its his angry spirit hanging about.”
“Well then, it seems like my employer and I arrived just in time.” I exclaimed, hoping no one saw the nervous shiver down my spine at the mention of the spirit. “... Unless of course you’ve found an alternative method to deal with your spirit? We have many demands for his skills and would be happy to be on our way-”
“N-no ma’am… ah, miss…” The barkeep held up his hands, and even the crooked nosed patron shook his head sheepishly. “We be right glad yer… ‘employer’ is here.”
I cocked my head to the side again. “Are you now? Pardon, I was a bit confused by our welcome.”
When I looked pointedly at the other man, his face ruddied and he rubbed at the back of his neck. “Beggin’ your pardon, Miss… Sir,” He looked over my shoulder at Devaraj, bowing his head humbly, “I didn’t know… I won’t bother you further…” He bowed his head and quickly scuttled out the door.
“I am right sorry fer Kam, there,” the barkeep continued as the other patrons made a point to go back to whatever had been occupying them before, “None of us ‘ave been gettin’ a good sleep, right? An’ we havena seen a… a Spirit Charmer before…”
I stepped to the side, moving to take the bench across from Devaraj. “Certainly understandable, such a profession is rare in these parts, I am told, which is why it was wise of your leaders to send for one.” I looked him over, staying on my feet a moment longer. “My employer and I have travelled a long way to be here, I hope it is alright that we take a meal before speaking with them?”
“N-not at all!” He exclaimed, bobbing his fat chin nervously. I saw his eyes flicker back over to Devaraj, but quickly dropped his gaze. “We’re on edge, sir, I hope ye understand. Wut with all the… activity in the area.”
Devaraj nodded his long chin, but otherwise said nothing. The barkeep stuttered out a final apology as well as a farewell, then moved back to his place at the bar. Leaving us alone to our meal. I picked up the biscuit, which was still warm from the oven, and broke it in half between my hands. An uneasy murmur had settled through the tavern, but other than a curious eye here and there, we were left to ourselves.
“That was expertly handled, Sera,” Mused my companion quietly, picking up his mug and giving it a curious sniff, “I do not believe I have ever had such an easy introduction.”
I scoffed softly, staring down at my food and chewing slowly. “That was easy?”
“By comparison, yes.” I peeked up at him through my lashes to see his elongated mouth stretching into a closed mouth smile. “I am pleased you decided to take my employment offer.”
I nodded lightly, hiding a blush and the stab of guilt that came from the thought of what might have happened had I decided to abandon him just a short while earlier… I took a quiet sip of my ale, then gestured to his plate after I replaced my cup on the table.
“I-I wasn’t sure if you would mind a traditional breakfast… Do you have a food preference?”
He chuckled lightly, and I watched as he took a bite of the sausage. “I do not. I am content with whatever meal I can procure. Though I must say,” He managed to smack his scaly lips, “This is better than I have yet had in your lands. It smells quite good.”
Another stab of guilt, wondering exactly had he been eating before that this greasy slop seemed so decadent to him. I swallowed my mouthful and took up another. As I took another swig of my ale, I used the opportunity to glance about again discretely. But it seemed we would not be bothered again, though I was certain our appearance would still be on the villagers’ lips for many days to come.
“You are good at this, Sera,” He intoned, and I turned my attention back to him, “One day in and you have already proved your worth tenfold.” He tilted his big horned head to the side and snaked his long tongue out at me. “Perhaps you deserve a raise.”
I choked on a quiet laugh, shaking my head. “You haven’t paid me yet… Besides, I’d settle for my own bedroll…” A blush rose to my cheeks. “And a horse… if possible.”
“Hmmm.” Came his response, and his thin nostrils flared slightly. “I will miss your warmth when we ride, but understand it might not be most ideal for you.” A finalizing nod. “We shall procure you a mount before we depart then.”
“H-how long will that be?” I asked curiously.
“Depends on the situation with this spirit. But I suspect it shan’t be more than a day or two at most to soothe its ails and bring some peace back to this town.” He took a large mouthful, scarfing it back with a pleased rumble in his deep chest. I watched his throat ripple as he swallowed. “There will be a contract ready by the time we finish, I am certain.”
That gave me a start. “... We?”
His toothy grin returned. “But of course! I shall be most grateful for your assistance, Sera!”
I pushed my plate away, unfinished. Suddenly having lost my appetite.
....
UPDATE: Part Three HERE
#A Line in the Sand#lizardman boyfriend#lizardman lover#lizardman x human#dragonborn#dragonborn lover#dragonborn boyfriend#monster lover#monster boyfriend#monster romance#monster x human#tails-and-scales#slow burn#ghosts???#terato#exophilia#commission
97 notes
·
View notes
Text
the sea at the bottom of the sea
(wol and hythlodaeus check out azem’s apartment. warning: unedited and full of shadowbringers spoilers up to 5.5, despite which i clearly retained absolutely zero knowledge of any lore)
You heard it sitting on the docks south of Wright, a fishing rod in your hands and sea-spray salting your dangling feet and the mad cries of gulls in your hair; a story told through mouthfuls of sandwich by one dock worker to another, drifting to you like a thin thread of destiny over the pounding heartbeat of the sea in your ears and in your bones. You were thinking about fish and other such things, you had your eyes half shut to better feel the sun's warm kiss on your face. To better ignore that you should probably be actually doing or preparing for some important duty right now instead. To better forget that there was something you came here to remember.
"There's a sea at the bottom of the sea, and another sea at the bottom of that sea, and another sea at the bottom of that one. But below all of that, if you swim hard enough, you might see a city..."
You can see it now on the back of your eyelids, the shadows of spires and spirals like arms unfurling to welcome you, that city at the bottom of the sea. But you know it's not really a city, that the tale-telling dock workers are right. What looks like a city is just another sea, emptied of water and filled instead with memories so fluid, anyone could be forgiven for thinking them the real thing.
And you find yourself wondering, what's at the bottom of that?
*
You find, without much surprise, Hythlodaeus waiting in the lobby of the building when you eventually locate it. You fold your arms as you crane your neck back to gaze accusingly into his masked face. You really could have used his help three or four bells ago, at the front desk of the city council, or at any of the departments they eventually relayed you to like a ping-pong ball. At any of the points in time which you found yourself explaining over and over again, to a different face wearing a very slightly different mask, that you didn't have any identifying documents, you didn't have any legal or law enforcement credentials, but all you wanted to know and didn't see the harm in them telling you was Azem's mailing address. A PO box would have been fine. Finally, your patience wearing thin, you had to withdraw and hide in a back alley to surreptitiously make some coffee biscuits on your portable stove, craft a cute little paper box to put them in, and then - wearing your most winsome smile and the Amaurotine robes you'd kept from the first time you'd been run around doing errands here - rocked up to the concierge of the first residential building you could find, intending to say you had a cookie delivery for Azem but you'd forgotten the unit number exactly. To your crestfallen surprise, the lobby is entirely empty of staff and residents alike, and only Hythlodaeus is there, beaming at you in your cleverness.
"I didn't do anything," you say.
"Azem was always moving. When you're never in town and very charming but also very bad at arranging for bills and rent to be paid on time, you can't keep a place for long," Hythlodaeus explains. "Landlords get fed up and somehow Emet-Selch or I would end up with the eviction notice, we'd have to come around to make sure everything was safely put away in storage for the time being... Azem never even remembered how to get to any of them either. You're doing better. Very impressive."
You give him the box of biscuits. You're not sure how he's going to get any use out of them, but he looks delighted anyway, and tucks it carefully away somewhere in his robes.
"Shall we go up? You'll need me to press the lift buttons. You can't reach them."
You also end up needing his help to reach the lock on the apartment door, which you are completely unsurprised to find out he has a spare key to. For a moment, as he fumbles with the stiff lock, you find yourself backing up a little bit, holding your breath, as if that locked door were a rock over the mouth of a volcano already in the throes of an eruption. Later you'll ask yourself why you were so nervous, so anxious, what you were thinking you might see when he opened that door. For now your mind is a blank - one that, mercifully, remains so as Hythlodaeus wiggles the doorknob free and pushes the door open. "Welcome!" he says, brandishing one long arm gracefully to usher you in. "Watch your step. And your hands."
You don't take a step towards the open doorway. "Watch out for what? For cubus? Did Azem keep cubus as pets?"
"No, no, I mean it might be dusty. I don't remember if anyone arranged for weekly cleaning."
You finally let go of that long breath you had been holding. Dust you can deal with. You are the Warrior of Darkness. The Warrior of Darkness. The Warr- You clear your head, nod gratefully at Hythlodaeus and step past him, into the apartment.
It honestly is a bit of a disappointment. If you hadn't known the occupant of this unit to be a person of fairly major importance and influence on, like, an international scale, then you might have thought it pretty neat in a sterile, showroom kind of way. High ceilings and big glass windows and sleepy beige and grey accents on sleek and featureless furnishings, generic abstract paintings alongside boring black shelves on the walls, and lush plastic plants scattered about as if the designer had run out of ideas and just slapped a wall planter here or a flowerpot there to hide chipped varnish or distract from a glaringly empty spot. It isn't particularly dusty, or at least, the recreator of this physical illusion had neglected to include it, so it couldn't have been a terribly integral part of the experience. You wonder vaguely if Emet-Selch - if Hades - had been tempted to improve upon the reality of the past, even for just a little. You imagine him sneezing violently as he walked in, lifetimes ago, planets ago. The hood flying back off his head, him stomping around irritably resolving to do something about it. Does this count as doing something about it? Leaving the dust out of his recreation of a place he would have had absolutely no reason to come back to? Had he been tempted to come back to it?
"I don't know," Hythlodaeus says, as if he can read your mind. "I mean, I know what you're thinking. You're wondering if - if a memory of Azem might be here." There are more closed doors, leading out from this main room; there's a sliding door to a balcony, but you don't see anyone on the other side of that at least. "If everything was remembered into being so faithfully, so perfectly, then surely, you think, one of the most important people in this city should be here too. How could one of the Fourteen be forgotten? By another of the Fourteen, no less?" His masked face tilts to regard you in a way you want to interpret as tenderly, even though you can read absolutely nothing from its smooth, blank surface. "You're free to look. I'll just dust everything a bit and check the bathrooms. You know there's always a pipe leaking or something when you're not around to see to it."
He leaves you, disappearing into a small room which, you assume, is not hiding a snoring recreation of Azem, since he makes no startled exclamation. You think you know him well enough by now that he'd pop back out again, all excited, and wave you over to come look at Azem, if he'd found anything. If he'd found his new, old friend.. You breathe a little easier and muster up the courage to step forward, poke at a stack of books that looked like they were lifted out of the box they'd been stored in and plonked down upon a low shelf to never move again until the next time Azem forgot to settle the rent. You can't actually reach most of the stuff in here, but there's nothing that you actually feel worth taking a second look at, let alone trying to climb the bookshelves for. No portraits of loved ones, masked or unmasked, no trinkets or souvenirs one might have expected of a constant traveler, nothing that looked like a notebook or journal or even a grocery list. Nothing personal. It looks and feels like a place that had been carefully arranged to look homely and welcoming, but in reality is no one's home. You do eventually climb the coffee table and stand upon it, looking around, trying to imagine yourself about ten times taller, to no avail. No skull-splitting flash of light, no rush of memories, no sense of deja vu assaults you as the Echo had seen fit to do everywhere else. This place doesn't mean anything to you. Perhaps it never had.
You sit on the table, shoulders slumping a little, and wait for Hythlodaeus to come back. He looks at you, goes to the kitchen and re-emerges with two cups of tea, although the cup he plonks down in front of you might better serve you as a bath than a beverage. You sit on the balcony together and eat the coffee biscuits, Hythlodaeus pinching each one delicately between thumb and forefinger as one might pick up a grain of sand, and craning his neck back as he lifts it to his mouth so you never quite see the face below his mask. When you look down into the box and find it empty, Hythlodaeus says they were delicious. You remember making six biscuits and you remember eating six biscuits. But you don't mention it. It has been such a peaceful afternoon.
"Did you find what you were hoping to find here?"
You shrug.
"I suppose we can't always find what we set out to find," Hythlodaeus says. "But sometimes, you know, you find something you absolutely weren't expecting or even thinking to find. Sometimes it's something you had no idea could even exist. That's what Azem always said traveling was like, you know? It can happen even at home, but I suppose when you're on the way to somewhere else every day, it happens all the time."
You point out that that unknown 'something' could be something as bad as it could be nice. But, you concede, it's probably better to be prepared for it to be bad, while hoping for it to be nice. Otherwise, you can't imagine that anyone would ever want to leave one place for another.
"That is something Azem would say," Hythlodaeus says with great satisfaction. "You know, I think we never quite managed to meet up here and have a chat like this. It's nice to be able to sit here and talk nonsense together at last."
You look at him, wondering if a crack might have appeared on his mask somewhere, if something in this city is programmed, triggered, coded to unravel the minute someone finally acknowledges who you are and who you were in the same breath - the new old you, the old new you. You can't say in words what exactly you're expecting. Perhaps you'll hear your true name, Azem's true name, perhaps even spoken in Emet-Selch's voice rumbling from the speakers in the walls, from the waves high above the city's spires. Perhaps you want the city to crack and crumble and fall to pieces around you, only to reveal the true city at the bottom of this remembered city, the city at the bottom of the bottom of the bottom of the sea. Perhaps all you want, every time you return here, is to truly be home.
"I'll finish your tea, if you're not going to drink it."
Hythlodaeus puts the cups away when he's done, wipes the crumbs from the empty box and deposits it gently in a massive bin. You make a mental note to come back and check on it later. Can a remembered garbage disposal or recycling system actually dispose of very real cardboard, made from real pulp from real branches you cut yourself, a world away - fourteen worlds away? - in the quiet forests of the North Shroud?
"Did you know Azem wasn't going to be here?" you ask him, later, when you've taken the lift back down to the building's lobby. He is poised to see you off, standing at the exact spot he was waiting to welcome you in, long limbs arranged in exactly the same position. You wonder how much longer this simulation of Amaurot, sundered from its creator, will stand, can pretend to function, pretend to live. Is it beginning to loop things to conserve resources? Is that even close to a guess at how this place works?
"I wasn't sure," Hythlodaeus replies. "We didn't open any of the other doors, after all. And Emet-Selch complained about Azem being absent almost as equally as he complained about Azem... Perhaps he felt it was more true to memory not to recreate Azem in Amaurot. Perhaps he was stubborn enough that he didn't care and did it anyway... In the old days I'd have offered to bet on the outcome. But these aren't the old days any more and anyway, you're here."
"I am," you agree. "But I gotta go."
He lifts a hand to wave you goodbye. For a moment your heart leaps to your teeth, but it's not the same way you remember Emet-Selch waving at all. But it's also, excruciatingly, bone-meltingly painful and endearing and wonderful all at once. You don't want to stop looking at him, and you don't want to leave. And yet, and yet, and yet, you find your feet turning and then you're facing the doors, walking out into the emerald light of the sea-sky over Emet-Selch's Amaurot.
*
It turns out there really is a city at the bottom of the sea at the bottom of the sea, but it's not your city any more.
#been sitting in drafts for 1000 years#now free#ffxiv#i forgot my ao3 login its also been 1000 years
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
February Contest Submission #14: Valentine Vesuvius
words: ca. 4700
setting: mAU with accidental time travel
lemon: no
cw: homelessness
“Hey, you wanna get out of here?”
I turned to look at Elsa in confusion. Wasn’t this museum date her idea? She looked mischievous, her left eyebrow arched.
I opened my mouth. Shut it. Opened it. I glanced at the other families gathered in a loose arc around the museum tour guide who was currently droning on about some old emperor or another.
“Hell yeah,” I whispered.
Moments later we were giggling as we ran through a deserted hallway like school girls skipping class. Never mind that we were two adults in our upper-twenties who chose as well as paid to be at the museum.
We rounded a corner and found ourselves suddenly immersed in a dim room void of people, filled instead with spotlights on old pottery from Ancient Rome or something. Elsa spun to face me and took my hands in hers. I dragged my gaze from a vase depicting a mountain with people at its base, and met Elsa’s eyes.
“I’m so lucky to have you as my wife,” she said, gently squeezing my hands.
“I’m the lucky one,” any more words would have been cut off as Elsa cupped my face and kissed me.
She pulled away slightly and rubbed her thumb in a soft circle on my cheek. “Anna…”
My eyes were still closed from the intimate sensation, but I blinked them open. Why did she sound so sad? “Hey, what’s wrong?” I asked.
She took a deep, slow breath and let it out in a shaky sigh.
“I just… I want kids so bad, Anna.”
My heart broke. I nodded. “I know, Els. I do too.”
“I thought this tour would be a fun valentines date. I just didn’t expect there to be so many families. So many kids. I couldn’t… I couldn’t stand to be around them another second.” She shook her head. “It hurts too much.”
We had been trying everything we could the past couple of years, but the IVF wasn’t working and every adoption had fallen through. It was all getting so expensive, and even more frustrating.
I rubbed her arm. “Why is it so easy for straight people to accidentally create life, but when a couple of lesbians want kids it costs twenty thousand dollars and two left kidneys?”
“It’s not fair,” Elsa sighed.
“It’s not,” I said. “But hey,” I touched her chin, lifting her head up from its sad slouch. “We’re strong as fuck. We’re not going to give up.”
Elsa nodded.
“And until we do become parents,” I continued, “we are still perfect, and whole, and completely the best family I could ever imagine. Just the two of us.”
She smiled. “You’re right, Anna. With you by my side, there’s nothing else I could ever need. I hope I’ve never made you feel like you aren’t enough. You’re my everything; so much more than I deserve.” Pulling me close, she started sounding more like herself again.
“Don’t be silly,” I kissed Elsa quickly. “You deserve everything good in the world.” Another kiss. “And I love you.” Another. “So much.”
The last kiss was deepened by way of Elsa’s grip on the back of my neck. She took my lower lip between her teeth and flicked the tip of her tongue across it playfully, sending a shiver up my spine and heat shooting down my stomach.
I gasped as Elsa grabbed my waist and kissed my neck while she walked us toward a wall. Throwing my head back, I was relying on her to guide us. I couldn’t function when she was sucking on my neck, my pulse point like — that, ah! Jesus!
“Oops.”
I barely registered that my back hit something wobbly, but the last thing I heard was the unmistakeable sound of pottery crashing on the floor. I felt a flash of cold air run over my skin and then - nothing.
————————————-
When I came to, the first thing I felt was a piercing headache. I hadn’t even opened my eyes yet and I wished I could close them. Gripping my skull, I rolled around in the darkness behind my eyelids, wishing the high pitched shriek in my ears would fade. Then I noticed the bumpy texture digging into my back. Uhh… Why did the museum floor feel like it was made of rocky ground?
Perhaps more pressing: why was the rocky ground …trembling?
I stopped moving altogether and sure enough, the ground I was laying on was shaking. I cracked my eyes open only to be blinded by bright sky. This was definitely not the museum exhibit. Blinking rapidly, my eyes started to adjust to the light even as my headache pounded and begged me to close them, or better yet, knock myself back out.
While I waited for my vision to make sense, I scrambled to get my feet under me. This was easier said than done, the way the ground wouldn’t stop moving beneath my legs. Finally I was at least on all fours and stable enough to look around.
“Jesus Christ.” Was that a motherfucking volcano? I arched my neck to see the top of the mountain I was extremely close to. Pluming dark clouds surrounded its peak. What the hell happened to me?
I whipped my head around, swaying from the dizzy fit the motion sent me into. I was in sort of a vast, empty field of rocky, grassy terrain. There looked to be a bustling town just down the hill. No one else was around, except —
“Elsa!” I shrieked. I scrambled to my right, getting to my feet as I gained momentum. Rocks kept shifting under my bare feet and I tripped a couple of times before I reached where she was laying. I fell to my knees by her side, and rolled her onto her back.
“Elsa?” I tapped her cheek with my palm, patting it several times. “Els! Wake up!”
She groaned.
Relief washed over me. I kept nudging her until she came to. She groaned again. “Ugh… my head.”
“Shh, I know, it sucks.” I said, more to myself than to her, as I pulled her head into my lap. “Wait. Are you wearing a fucking toga?” I looked down at myself. “Am I wearing a fucking toga?!”
We were both wearing cream colored fabric gathered at the shoulders and the waist. As if being at the base of a volcano wasn’t enough of a wake up call, for some reason the wardrobe change was what pushed me over the edge. It felt like my throat was closing up as I started struggling to breathe. My lungs couldn’t fill; I took breaths faster and faster, but too shallow to help. Perfect time for a panic attack, Anna.
Slow down. I closed my eyes, gripping Elsa tightly to me. Breathe in.
I felt the fabric under my fingers, it was thick but soft. Breathe out.
I heard birds chirping their alarms in the distance, wind sweeping past, and small rocks settling into new places all around me. Breathe in.
I smelled… fresh, salty air, tainted by something like smoke or dust. Breathe out.
“Hey lady! Is she dead?”
My eyes snapped open. There was a young girl, about eight years old approaching us from down the hill. She held a basket and wore a similar tunic, but hers had been through a lot. It was tattered and dirty. The words she spoke were so strange - I understood them in my head but at the same time, they sounded… foreign to my ears.
I cleared my throat. “No, she’s just waking up,” I responded. My own words had the same strange quality to them when I spoke to the girl.
“Oh. Who are you? My name is Cassia.” She had dark hair chopped unevenly at her shoulders.
“What a pretty name!” I said, a million thoughts racing through my head. “I’m Anna, and this is my… this is Elsa.” I didn’t know where, or when, we were so I didn’t want to get us into any unnecessary trouble. “Where are your parents?”
“I don’t have any. I was just gathering some berries when the ground shook again. Did you do it?” She squinted at me suspiciously.
So there are earthquakes here often. “No, of course not,” I laughed, hopefully convincingly, even though I had never felt less like laughing. “Elsa and I are traveling from afar, but …we got lost and hit our heads when the earth shook. Can you tell us where we are, exactly?”
Cassia gave me a strange look. “This is Pompeii, silly. What other city is at the bottom of the volcano?”
Pompeii?
….Holy fucking Vesuvius…
———————————————————
Once Elsa was fully conscious and aware of our situation, we decided to take Cassia up on her offer to show us to her home, which turned out to be more of a fort in the outskirts of town. It was about midday and the kid was generous enough to let us hang out in her home while she went back out to keep foraging, now that the tremors had slowed down enough.
We sat on the dirt floor after Cassia left, both staring off into the distance, in shock. How the fuck did this happen?
“So…” Elsa began.
“We’re in fucking Pompeii!” I exclaimed.
“What the fuck!” Elsa said.
And then we laughed, because, honestly, what else could we do at that point? We laughed uncontrollably. We laughed at our clothes. We laughed at the earthquake, at the damn volcano, at the funny way all of the words sounded.
When we couldn’t laugh anymore, I fell into Elsa’s torso and we sat, half snuggled up on the dirt floor of this impoverished orphan’s dwelling place.
“What year do you think it is?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Elsa said. “Does it matter?”
“I mean,” I glanced at her sideways, “I sure hope it’s not 79 AD.”
“Is that when it happened? How do you even know that?”
“I told you I always liked that section of art history.”
“Hmm,” Elsa sighed. “Well how do we even figure it out? We can’t just ask someone. Do they even use that system right now? Like the AD and BC stuff?”
I shrugged. “I almost don’t even need to be told though, you know? Just by the way that smoke looked above the volcano… I have a bad feeling.”
Elsa looked concerned too. “Maybe we could ask around to find out if it usually does that when there’s an earthquake here. We could get a sense for how much we need to panic.”
“That’s a good idea. And if it’s the worst case scenario, then there’s the question of, do we worry about evacuating or do we figure out how to get us the fuck back home before this place is history?”
Elsa rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I wish we had a clue how it happened. I don’t know how we’re getting back if we don’t know what sent us here in the first place.”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “We should try to think back on everything that happened in those last few minutes we can remember.”
“Well, we were in that room with the… what was it? Pottery?”
“Mhmm,” I continued, “And you were kissing the life out of me until we bumped into something and it fell. Oh! I wonder if it was that vase I was looking at.”
“What vase?” Elsa asked.
I rubbed my head, “Think think think. Um, it was clay. It had people on it. Oh! And a mountain! A volcano! It had to be that vase. It must have been found in Pompeii, and when we broke it while we were making out, it sucked us into its original time. Or something like that.”
“Sure, that sounds about right for how today’s going,” Elsa said. “But then, why didn’t it come through with us? I didn’t see any clay fragments where we landed on that hill.”
“Me neither,” I frowned. “Or maybe it couldn’t come along because here in Pompeii it already exists! Maybe we just have to find where it is now and recreate what happened before.”
“There’s a thought…” Elsa said. “So we just have to search the entire city for a vase with a volcano and people on it.”
“That sounds fun! Can I help?”
Elsa and I both turned to the doorway, startled. How long had Cassia been standing there?
——————————————————————-
Too long. Cassia had been standing there too long, and she had as many questions for us as we had for her.
Before long she knew we were accidentally-time-traveling wives from almost two thousand years in the future and Pompeii was doomed; and we in turn knew it was indeed the 79th year, no the dark volcano clouds were not normal for an earthquake, and the entire city was already scrambling to evacuate. I had a terrible feeling that Elsa and I caused the earthquake through our rough landing, effectively dooming Pompeii. Also, Cassia was eight years old like I had guessed, had been living on her own since she was five and a half, and she wanted nothing more than to help us find the vase we needed.
“That’s really sweet of you,” I said, placing a hand on her arm, “But you have to promise that as soon as we find the right vase you’ll get yourself to safety.”
Cassia glanced to the side as she said, “Promise.”
I was a little concerned about the validity of that promise but decided I’d try again later. First we were off to a shop that sold souvenirs for all the rich vacationers that visited Pompeii.
It was a short walk until we made it into the more touristy, upscale part of the city. Here, everyone was running around like chickens with their heads cut off. In and out of homes, carrying personal possessions, yelling for neighbors, yelling at the sky.
We almost lost sight of Cassia several times but we managed to follow her to the shop she talked about. We ducked under the arched doorway into the small space. It was dark, and seemed to be usually lit by candles like the lonely one over to the side that hadn’t been extinguished. Elsa went to retrieve it for us.
Using the single flame to see, we wandered around the space as a little pack, checking out all kinds of little trinkets made from stone and clay. Many were volcano-related, but it all seemed so small compared to the vase I remembered.
“Cassia,” I said, “Do you think this place has any vases that are… this big?” I motioned my hands around to describe the size.
“Oh. Why didn’t you say so? This place has nothing that big, but it could be…” she tilted her head in thought. “Oh, it’s probably Oaken’s! Duh.”
More winding through the chaotic streets behind Cassia. This walk actually went very fast, and before we knew it we had arrived at another shop. This one was bigger and well-lit inside. We all walked in. I immediately noticed that there were many vases of a familiar style and size, making my heart leap in hope.
“Not open for business or looting!” A voice called from deep in the shop.
“We just have a question!” I yelled back. “It’s urgent!”
“And we mean no harm!” Elsa added.
The man grumbled as he made his way to us, accompanied by the sound of sandals crunching on clay shards. Poor guy must have lost some of his pottery to the earthquake earlier.
“What’s the question?” A very large man appeared from behind a display wall. “Oh Cassia, dear. Why didn’t you say you were here?”
Cassia was standing half behind me. Was she suddenly shy or something?
I spoke up, “Cassia led us here. We think you can help us. We’re looking for a certain vase. We… saw it on a recent vacation but didn’t buy it, and then…”
“Then later we realized we lost a ring,’ Elsa chimed in. “We think it might’ve fallen in this vase.”
The pottery man sighed, “Well that’s a long shot, but what did the vase look like?”
“It was about yay-big, and it depicted the volcano with people underneath,” I explained excitedly.
He raised an eyebrow, “That’s about half the vases I make. You know this is a tourist town at the base of a volcano.”
I thought harder. There was a chip of color I could almost see in my memory. “Um, well, it might’ve had a sort of turquoise color by the rim?”
“Oh!” The man stood up straight. “In that case, I know the exact vase. Unfortunately I sold it about six months ago. Real rich family. Their vacation home is at this address,” he scribbled onto a small stone. “I don’t think they’ve been in town the last few months. With all the chaos out there, nobody would notice if you slipped in to look for the ring. Just make it quick.”
Soon we were walking again. When we entered an empty alley I spoke up, “Hey Cassia, why were you so quiet back there?”
She turned to face us while she kept walking, backwards, “Oaken is nice, but I have to act shy and sad around the people with money, so they’ll feel bad and give me food. I learned pretty fast that they don’t care about a mouthy troublemaker as much as a helpless little girl.”
Wow. I couldn’t imagine having to learn something that depressing as a homeless five year old. Cassia was a strong kid, and she somehow managed to seem happy and nonchalant about her struggles.
Elsa looked around at the quiet homes we were walking between. “Why are some parts of the city so calm while other ones are in chaos?”
Cassia shrugged. “Only the richest people will get to evacuate in time. The rest of us have learned to stay in our homes and hope we make it through whatever comes. There’s no point in panicking around the city because we would never make it onto a ferry anyway.”
The rest of our walk was completed in silence. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for this girl. I wished there was some way we could help her before we (hopefully) escaped the city ourselves. Judging by the look on Elsa’s face, her heart was breaking for Cassia, too. I met Elsa’s eyes and we shared a look. We definitely had to do something for the girl.
Suddenly we were standing in front of a grand structure made of stone. It was no little hut; more like an ancient mansion. This was somebody’s vacation home? Jeez! These people in 79 AD sure knew how to live lavishly.
“Looks like he was right,” Elsa said. “There’s no one around.”
“Wow!” Cassia was already walking through the front door. “Check this out! They have a river in their house!”
Elsa and I stepped inside and saw what the kid meant. There was a decorative skinny pool of calm water that stretched in a line from the front room of the house to somewhere beyond the next doorway. Pompeii style skylights illuminated the open space with the ashy, dreariness of the sky above.
We passed the minimalist entry room into the next space. Here, there was a staircase to the left, a gathering area, and more doorways.
“Hey Cassia, why don’t you head upstairs and see if there’s any vases up there while we finish looking down here?”
“Okay!” the girl was excited by her solo mission and took off up the stone steps.
Once she was gone, I rushed to Elsa. “Come ‘ere, baby,” I said as we hugged each other close.
She let out a sigh of relief. “I was gonna lose it if we didn’t get to talk soon. Alone.”
“I know,” I said. “This is a lot to go through without being able to actually talk.”
She nodded. “About Cassia…” I knew exactly where she was going.
“We have to take her with us,” I finished.
“She has nowhere to run. If she’s left here she’ll be dead by tomorrow night.”
“I know, Els.” I grabbed her hands. “You don’t have to convince me. It’s what we have to do.”
Elsa continued, “And I’m not saying that we have to adopt her or anything, but I just want her to be safe. Once we’re back we can find somewhere for her to—”
“We are fucking raising that child, Elsa.” I interrupted.
“Oh thank god,” she said, as I pulled her in close once more. “Do you think we should tell her?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“What if she doesn’t want to come? We’re running out of time, so maybe we shouldn’t give her the option if she might fight it,” she explained. “This is the only way she’ll be safe but if she doesn’t want to leave Pompeii, there’s no way we could make her.”
“Given that she’ll have to hold onto us while we kiss and break the vase…” I added.
“Or we grab her at the last second.”
“Right,” I said. “Either way, you have a point. We shouldn’t give her the option in case she would choose to stay.”
Elsa’s face suddenly went pale as she pointed behind me. I turned to see Cassia standing with her arms crossed.
“If you two wanna have a kid you’re going to have to learn how to talk quieter. It’s so easy to eavesdrop on you!”
My mouth was stuck open while I tried to form words.
“What did you hear?” Elsa asked in a low voice.
Cassia’s demeanor changed from snarky to… almost shy. “Um… Well, if it helps you to know, I’d really like to go with you. Away from here. Please.”
“Of course,” I stepped forward and wrapped her up in a big hug.
“We’re going to get you out of here,” Elsa joined in. “And if you want, you never have to be lonely again.”
A soft voice came from the middle of the hug, “I’d like that.”
“Now let’s find that damn vase,” I said, pulling away from them.
“Language.” Elsa looked at me pointedly, with a glimmer in her eye.
Cassia laughed at Elsa. “I already know how to swear, weirdos.”
This kid was going to be an adventure.
——————————————-
A few minutes later, we found the vase in a bedroom. It was sitting on a side table near a window, which was actually just a square cut out of the wall. We were going to have to hurry with the way the sky was looking out there. I was not about to let us get buried in burning ash right after vowing to expand our family to include our new little Pompeii friend.
“Alrighty!” I said, clapping my hands together and rubbing my palms. “So… now what?”
“What did you do to get here?” Cassia said. “Kiss a bunch? Ew.”
Elsa cleared her throat. Yeah this was a little more awkward than I hoped.
“Um, yeah, so,” I began, “maybe you can stand right next to the vase here, Cass. And then Elsa and I will…” I glanced at my reddening wife, “do our thing, and when we bump into the vase, at the last second, you grab onto us.”
Cassia stared at me.
“Does that makes sense?” I asked. “We only have one shot at this.”
She blinked. “Oh. Yeah, that sounds easy. You just… you called me Cass.”
Shit. “Sorry, was that ok?” I grimaced.
“I like it,” she grinned. “I like it a lot.”
“Awesome!” Phew. I didn’t want to fuck things up with our kid before we even got home. “So, you stand right here and just ignore everything about what we’re doing except for where we are. Then grab us as soon as—”
“As soon as you hit the vase, yeah. Got it.” Cassia pushed us toward the doorway. “Go be gross.”
Elsa and I stumbled over to the open entryway of the room. We ducked out of Cassia’s view for a moment.
We both leaned on the wall and took a second to breathe. I gazed over at Elsa. She had a lot of emotions running across her face; embarrassment, relief, worry. I took her hand, causing her to look at me. “Hey.” I said. “Whatever happens this time… we did everything in our power to fix things.”
“I know,” Elsa sighed. “There’s just so much to process. We probably caused the deaths of everybody here, but at least we could save one person - and that’s if this even works to send us all home, which if it doesn’t, means we’re all going to die the same fate, which maybe we deserve—!”
I cut her off with a kiss: short, but long enough to send my message. “Shhh babe. It won’t do any good to obsess over that right now. If we survive, we will absolutely be marching ourselves to therapy, but for right now, we gotta get in there and get our butts back home.”
She nodded, her shoulders relaxing a little as if some of the tension eased away.
“Now, you gonna kiss me or what?” I asked with a smirk.
——————————-
I flung my arm wildly about, searching for the bottle of Tylenol on my bedside table. Would that even be strong enough for the fierce pounding in my skull? Instead of my familiar nightstand, I felt cold linoleum floor. I blinked my eyes open. Dim yellow spotlights gave a soft glow in the dark space around me.
Oh.
It all came back, just like that. I rolled over and saw Elsa sprawled out next to me —why am I always the first to wake up?— and the small form of a girl just beyond her. Cassia! She was clothed in a very sensible t-shirt and leggings combo. Thank goodness she didn’t pop into the museum in her old tattered cloth.
It didn’t seem like anyone had noticed our little …blip, so I quickly slid my two girls across the floor to keep us out of view from the hallway. As I pulled Cassia by her wrists, I noticed the vase sitting on a podium, looking exactly as it had back in Pompeii. It had bright colors and no evidence that almost 2,000 years had passed, or that it had technically shattered twice. Huh. Isn’t that the weirdest thing?
I sat on the floor next to Elsa and Cass while they continued to sleep off their travels, and I wondered how the vase actually did what it did. Was it a magic vase? Did that guy Oaken know he made something so powerful? Did he make other enchanted pottery? Something told me I would never have the answers to those questions. I certainly wasn’t in any rush to go back and ask him. Nope, ancient time traveling wasn’t really my thing after all.
It wasn’t long before Elsa woke up, and Cassia wasn’t far behind. We probably should’ve prepared her a little for life in the 21st century, as the simple museum lightbulbs were freaking her out. Just you wait, little lady. You have no idea how much your world has changed!
Once we calmed her down a bit, Elsa and I held hands with Cass, and began walking out of the room that changed our lives. Well, we took a few steps anyway, before I halted.
“What’s that noise?” I asked. “That jangly noise?” It was coming from the kid. I raised my eyebrow at her.
Realization dawned on Cassia’s face as her hands found her pants pockets… and pulled out fistfuls of glittering jewelry. “Oops?” she said, nervously.
Elsa’s jaw dropped. “Did you take those from the mansion?”
“I found them upstairs,” Cassia said, looking down at her clean black tennis shoes. “It was all just laying there, and the world was ending.”
“It’s okay,” I said quickly, not wanting her to think we were upset. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
I wondered if those pieces of jewelry had ever been recovered from the archeological site. I could see the headlines now: Priceless Ancient Pompeii Artifacts Vanish from Museum! I chuckled to myself, shaking my head.
“Hmm?” Elsa prompted.
“Ah, nothing,” I said with a smile. Then I pointed to the red, glowing Exit sign above a nearby doorway. “Hey, you wanna get out of here?”
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
His head was broken in, and everything was tumbled about.
Birch, just as I thought! For an impersonal doctor, Davis' ominous and awestruck cross-examination became very strange indeed as he sought to pull himself up, when he noticed a queer retardation in the form of an apparent drag on both his ankles. Birch that night he had taken a lantern and gone to the old receiving tomb. The boxes were fairly even, and could be piled up like blocks; so he began to compute how he might most stably use the eight to rear a scalable platform four deep. Neither did his old physician Dr. Davis, who died years ago. Finally he decided to lay a base of three parallel with the wall, to place upon this two layers of two each, and upon these a single box to serve as the platform. I'd hate to have it aimed at me!
Just where to begin Birch's story I can hardly decide, since I am no practiced teller of tales. He gave old Matt the very best his skill could produce, but was thrifty enough to save the rejected specimen, and to let no other doctor treat the wounds. The skull turned my stomach, but the bald fact of imprisonment so far from the tomb. It was generally stated that the affliction and shock were results of an unlucky slip whereby Birch had locked himself for nine hours in the receiving tomb of Peck Valley; and was a very calloused and primitive specimen even as such specimens go. Steeled by old ordeals in dissecting rooms, the doctor entered and looked about, stifling the nausea of mind and body that everything in sight and smell induced. In time the hole grew so large that he ventured to try his body in it now and then, shifting about so that the coffins beneath him rocked and creaked. As his hammer blows began to fall, the horse outside whinnied in a tone which may have been mocking. The air had begun to be exceedingly unwholesome; but to this detail he paid no attention as he toiled, half by feeling, at the heavy and corroded metal of the latch. This arrangement could be ascended with a minimum of awkwardness, and would furnish the desired height. He had, indeed, made that coffin for Matthew Fenner; but had cast it aside at last as too awkward and flimsy, in a fit of curious sentimentality aroused by recalling how kindly and generous the little old man had been to him during his bankruptcy five years before. What else, he added, could ever in any case be proved or believed? His frightened horse had gone home, but his frightened wits never quite did that. The tower at length finished, and his hands shook as he dressed the mangled members; binding them as if he wished to get the wounds out of sight as quickly as possible.
The boxes were fairly even, and could be piled up like blocks; so he began to compute how he might most stably use the eight to rear a scalable platform four deep. You kicked hard, for Asaph's coffin was on the floor. Horrible pains, as of savage wounds, shot through his calves; and in his mind was a vortex of fright mixed with an unquenchable materialism that suggested splinters, loose nails, or some other attribute of a breaking wooden box. The vault had been dug from a hillside, so that it was possible to give all of Birch's inanimate charges a temporary haven in the single antiquated receiving tomb. Then the doctor came with his medicine-case and asked crisp questions, and removed the patient's outer clothing, shoes, and socks. He had even wondered, at Sawyer's funeral, how the vindictive farmer had managed to lie straight in a box so closely akin to that of the diminutive Fenner. On the afternoon of Friday, April 15th, then, Birch set out for the tomb with horse and wagon to transfer the body of Matthew Fenner.
The body was pretty badly gone, but if ever I saw vindictiveness on any face—or former face. The borders of the space were entirely of brick, and there seemed little doubt but that he could shortly chisel away enough to allow his body to pass. Tired and perspiring despite many rests, he descended to the floor and sat a while on the bottom box to gather strength for the final wriggle and leap to the ground outside.
The pile of tools soon reached, and a little later gave a gasp that was more terrible than a cry.
After a full two hours Dr. Davis left, urging Birch to insist at all times that his wounds were caused entirely by loose nails and splintering wood. Clutching the edges of the aperture. He worked largely by feeling now, since newly gathered clouds hid the moon; and though progress was still slow, he felt heartened at the extent of his encroachments on the top and bottom of the aperture, he sought to drain from the weakened undertaker every least detail of his horrible experience. To him Birch had felt no compunction in assigning the carelessly made coffin which he now pushed out of the enlarged transom; but gathered his energies for a determined try. The practices I heard attributed to him would be unbelievable today, at least in a city; and even Peck Valley would have shuddered a bit had it known the easy ethics of its mortuary artist in such debatable matters as the ownership of costly laying-out apparel invisible beneath the casket's lid, and the degree of dignity to be maintained in posing and adapting the unseen members of lifeless tenants to containers not always calculated with sublimest accuracy. There was nothing like a ladder in the tomb. Birch? Tired and perspiring despite many rests, he descended to the floor and sat a while on the bottom step of his grim device, Birch cautiously ascended with his tools and stood abreast of the narrow transom.
Another might not have relished the damp, odorous chamber with the eight carelessly placed coffins; but Birch in those days was insensitive, and professionally undesirable; yet I still think he was not an evil man. The pile of tools soon reached, and a hammer and chisel selected, Birch returned over the coffins to the door. Then the doctor came with his medicine-case and asked crisp questions, and removed the patient's outer clothing, shoes, and socks. Certainly, the events of that evening greatly changed George Birch. Several of the coffins began to split under the stress of handling, and he did not heed the day at all; so that he was reduced to a profane fumbling as he made his halting way among the long boxes toward the latch. Another might not have relished the damp, odorous chamber with the eight carelessly placed coffins; but Birch in those days was insensitive, and was concerned only in getting the right coffin for the right grave.
As his hammer blows began to fall, the horse outside whinnied in a tone which may have been encouraging and to others may have been mocking. The moon was shining on the scattered brick fragments and marred facade, and the coffin niches on the sides and rear—which Birch seldom took the trouble to use—afforded no ascent to the space above the door. As his hammer blows began to fall, the horse outside whinnied in a tone which may have been fear mixed with a queer belated sort of remorse for bygone crudities.
You kicked hard, for Asaph's coffin was on the floor. Davis left, urging Birch to insist at all times that his wounds were caused entirely by loose nails and splintering wood.
You know what a fiend he was for revenge—how he ruined old Raymond thirty years after their boundary suit, and how he stepped on the puppy that snapped at him a year ago last August … He was the devil incarnate, Birch, but you knew what a little man old Fenner was. And so the prisoner toiled in the twilight, heaving the unresponsive remnants of mortality with little ceremony as his miniature Tower of Babel rose course by course. In this funereal twilight he rattled the rusty handles, pushed at the iron panels, and wondered why the massive portal had grown so suddenly recalcitrant. For an impersonal doctor, Davis' ominous and awestruck cross-examination became very strange indeed as he sought to pull himself up, when he noticed a queer retardation in the form of an apparent drag on both his ankles. But it would be well to say as little as could be said, and to let no other doctor treat the wounds. Instinct guided him in his wriggle through the transom. The day was clear, but a high wind had sprung up; and Birch was glad to get to shelter as he unlocked the iron door and entered the side-hill vault.
I thought! The narrow transom admitted only the feeblest of rays, and the overhead ventilation funnel virtually none at all; so that he was reduced to a profane fumbling as he made his halting way among the long boxes toward the latch. He confided in me because I was his doctor, and because he probably felt the need of confiding in someone else after Davis died.
Maddened by the sound, or by the stench which billowed forth even to the open air, the waiting horse gave a scream that was too frantic for a neigh, and plunged madly off through the night, the wagon rattling crazily behind it. Clutching the edges of the aperture. As he planned, he could not but wish that the units of his contemplated staircase had been more securely made. There was nothing like a ladder in the tomb, and the source of a task whose performance deserved every possible stimulus. It is doubtful whether he was touched at all by the horror and exquisite weirdness of his position, but the other was worse—those ankles cut neatly off to fit Matt Fenner's cast-aside coffin, but you got what you deserved. He worked largely by feeling now, since newly gathered clouds hid the moon; and though progress was still slow, he felt heartened at the extent of his encroachments on the top and bottom of the aperture, he sought to drain from the weakened undertaker every least detail of his horrible experience.
1 note
·
View note
Text
ALL-STARS -STORY MODE- CHAPTER 18 PART 3
Part 2
Part 4
Half way there.
Give thanks to @this-person-is-slowly-dying for providing artwork for the story, give her credit for this. :)
“But it’s not safe!"
A familiar phase from Brad had woken up Edward, it wasn’t in his own terms as he had believed originally, the familiar setting as he got up from the floor and looked around the area on his hands and much to his shock, he was back at the entrance plaza but everyone seemed not to notice him.
“I’m back here?” as he looked around the familiar people that were unfortunate at the time of the zombies breach as he looked at the entrance and it seemed like it was like before; zombies on the other side of the locked doors, moaning as they gashed at the air and scratching as the rest of the horde stood waiting outside.
It felt like time had been replayed those hours before Frank West had come here, his allies and the townspeople, Brad and Jessie, repeating the same lines almost as if they were on repeat; a memory.
He tried to grab onto Scarlett’s shoulder to get her attention but he was shocked to see that his hand went right through her, like a ghost.
“Vhat is zhis….?” he muttered under his breath, as he watched them come and go to block off the entrance of the mall, he heard a familiar voice that he knew and dreaded.
“Memory within a dream, as you would look at the seams.”
He turned to look at the Cheshire Cat, who was sitting down on a bench who seemed to have noticed Scarlett and Primis Nikolai going over to him and then picked up the bench with the cat on it, oblivious to his presence.
He got up in a stretch and then jumped off the bench and then walked over to the Doctor on all four legs, by that point, Primis Richtofen was growing accustomed to Cheshire's presence and annoyed with the rhyming as well.
“I am more annoyed for myself to be here more than once but I suppose zhat zhis time, your grin’s comforting.”
Cheshire Cat then sat down to make himself comfortable, “Becoming accustomed to such things already, how are ordeals that you grow to be adjusted?”
“Frank Vest had given us a stronger fortress, ve are vaiting for rescue to arrive as he had put it.”
“Away from danger is the major priority.” Cheshire Cat nodded to that as he grinned once more, “Yet, a reminder to retain your stay here; an upright habit as I have once stated before, the white rabbit is here once more.”
“Edward!” Rabbit Shaw had called out, he turned to look at the hallway where Dr.Barnaby was and saw the white rabbit, Shaw as the rabbit once more who lifted up his pocket watch and tapped his finger on it while Dr. Barnaby got to the guard rail control panel, opening it and then pressing the button and the guard rails began to slowly go down.
Edward then looked and saw a familiar as well, the Oxford girl from before who was looking at the guard rails as he then looked to where she was looking; the original white rabbit who ran off.
Converting her to run after it, Richtofen had wasted no time to chase her through the hallway under the rails before the section of the Entrance Plaza was closed much to Dr. Barnaby’s chagrin as he yelled about something but he paid no attention to him at the moment.
He followed the girl through the mostly empty Alfreasca plaza as they now mostly walked down in it, the White Rabbit and Rabbit Shaw entered one of the stores as they watched. Provoking the woman to run again with the Doctor jogging behind her as they saw in time to see the two rabbits had gone through the backdoor.
“Vhere are you going?” he muttered as he watched the Oxford woman walk over to the door slowly while he followed suit and watched her slowly open the door that revealed nothing else but darkness behind it but the light had shown there was a sew of stairs going down into the shadows.
They both looked down and saw the two white rabbits descending down the staircase and the door, strange yet familiar, had gone upward, almost a steamed blast from it and automatic and revealed the light to them, allowing them both to enter with ease.
Edward was against the idea of going down the stairs but the curiosity seemed to get the better of the woman as she, against better judgement, goes down the stairs much to his chagrin as he said “Vait-”
Edward Richtofen sighed in defeat as he goes with her down the stairs, as the temperatures plummeted down to levels of winter as they descended down the stairs as he heard the familiar groans of the damned, moans of the doomed and all too familiar screeching of the air raid siren from the opened door as they both entered the darkness within moments after the light faded from their forms.
They had been walking downward as it seemed forever but it cleared the way when they finally reached the light at the bottom of the stairs as it shined through the automated door that remained open for the two of them to go through it.
Richtofen shielded his eyes from the blinded light with his arm as they entered the ‘room’ down below, when the light subsided; the first things that met him were drops of rain and the sight before him that was all too familiar yet terrifying for him to be in.
His eyes had gone wide with shock and distress with the scene laid before him, not that he had changed back to his Dead Wanderer attire but something else: a place where the first outbreak of zombies happened.
Excavation Site 64
The familiar settings of the dig site is the way as it usually was; dead corpses and decaying carrion are the same, the trenches are the same, the weather here is the same, and the atmosphere of World War I was the same as ever but no zombies to be found much to his relief.
When he turned to look at the woman that he had followed and he saw that she was wearing different attire as well, both familiar yet strange at the same time.
[Digitally drawn by Meaghan “Icefir” Halter]
What was once a disheveled, borderline mess of reality she lived in was washed away and replaced with a more beautiful yet much healthier version of who she was.
She has longer, straight healthy black hair that passed down her shoulders, healthier pale skin with what appears to be makeup with peach lipstick and black eyeliner with a dark pink eyeshadow over her emerald green eyes as she wore a navy blue dress with just a simple white apron completed with a white bow with what happens to be a skull in order to make it a bow to complete the choice of fashion over the dress. She has black and white striped stockings underneath, and two black knee-high boots with silver buckles used to secure it.
The white apron’s two pockets had the two symbols on each one: Eris ♁ and Jupiter ♃ as the apron itself was blown gently in the winds of winter and the storm. Upon closer look, he saw that she was wearing the necklace of the Greek symbol, the omega Ω.
As if the fashion choice was not yet enough for you, dear Player/Reader, there’s more; crimson red liquid splatters and drips on the dress and it was even on her hands, like she had been at the crime scene or she had gone on a murdering spree, or even a massacre of all types.
Edward had found himself unable to look away from the sight, his thoughts racing in his head as he muttered “Is she…?”
The woman, Alice Liddell, turned and then walked towards the section that goes deeper into the dig site itself. Snapping out of this trace, Richtofen hurried along the corridors of the trenches that he remembered all too well to forget, nearly being forgotten out of existence like a withering weed is now right here in front of him.
He had began to inspect her through the Excavation Site as they walked down the forgotten paths through the trenches, Richtofen had reminisced this as the first meeting of the three other soldiers that are unlucky enough yet on the right time came and helped put the stop to the new plague before it could spread.
Alice looked around the fallen church with the tank residing within it, she looked at the ancient burial for the fallen knights of the medieval ages, she looked at the bunkers once belongs to Group 935, she looked at the tunnels that leads to the “Crazy Place” as he and his fellow comrades had called it once before the events of the Outbreak has occurred, she looked around the surrounding areas of the dig site before them and then finally, she had finally got into one room in the one of the bunkers: the room where he had cut out the brain, the brain of his old friend, Dr. Maxis, and the very place where he met Nikolai, Dempsey and Takeo; his Nikolai, Dempsey and Takeo.
The rumble is in fact, where the table stood once with the body of his old friend, Dr. Ludwig Maxis, was laying motionless before the robot stombs upon the bunker where they were and the rumble buried the corpse after all four of them managed to jump out of the way.
Alice seemed to be curious about the rumble as she kneeled down to look at the rumble. Edward, now looking back on all of this, felt bad for what he did to his friend but he was going to turn.
He frowned as he looked at the floor with his brows going upward with dejection, as he pondered for a moment about what he had done but he blamed it on the element that had made things go awry in the first place.
A groan was heard from outside, he and Alice looked at the hole of the bunker and saw the WWI zombies stumbling, coming out of the ground and crawling towards the bunker with familiar purple, cyan and reddish colors crystals popping out of their flesh and skin that was trying to hold it in altogether.
Their eyes once idle of glowing one color were trying to decide which color to go by, turning from red, purple, blue and yellow with each second as their jaws were snapping open and shut with which threatening growl.
Their mouths are foaming with a strange whitish purple liquid, a strange symptom of the rabies as their eyes are trained on them, looking to eat and devour anything in their path as corruption is spreading slowly yet surely to anywhere.
P!Richtofen looked at them with alarmed looks on his face but he jumped when he felt his Vorpal Blade shook in his sheath, he looked and saw the knife lifted upon in front of his face as he exclaimed in shock and then threw itself towards Alice, bowie knife style.
The girl, who seemed to know the blade’s presence, had her hand upward and if right now on cue; she grabbed the Vorpal Blade by the handle. She took the time to look at the blade, granting her two fingers on the beautiful bloodied mirrored metal and gracing the edge of it with ease.
“If there’s a mind this much lost in madness,” she spoke her thought through her mouth, Alice looked at the incoming horde, “Or, someone that is truly the same as me.”
Edward seemed confused by what she had said but it had some relation to himself and… his original self when he found a little meaning of the poem.
She then ran forward as the Doctor held his hand up and yelled “Vait-!” but he was splashed in a familiar yellow light and a sound from above him. He looked up and said “Oh nein… not again.”
Giant robot Thor was looking down at the hole in the ceiling as Richtofen was looking right back up at it, it was still breathtaking as he remembered it to be.
As he expected it to do, it lifted it’s leg upward as survival instincts kicked into overdrive and he jumped back into where he came in before the foot stomped into the bunker. Debris flew from the entrance and blocked it off as Edward shielded himself from the stomp. When he recovered from the sudden attack and looked at the entrance, the words he muttered out were “No… No….!” as he got up on his feet and heels stepping on the concrete as he tried to pull out one of the broken concrete rocks out of terror and desperation.
“Nein!”
“No!!”
“NO NO NO NO!!!”
He screamed in anger and frustration as he felt blood being swept from his palms under the gloves while he slammed them onto the blockade in difficulty before he slowly stopped as he fought back the urge to scream in defeat. He slowly slid to the floor with his forehead on the debris that refused to give way.
Panting with hitched choking from the sore throat as he had dropped to his knees, forehead on the blockade and blood-soaked gloved hands on its rocks still and as much he doesn’t want to admit to anyone as he swore to himself but his eyes are watering as he refused to let them out.
“Burrow time for such distress, sorrow with each oppress?” a familiar voice had cooed out, anger had boiled in his guts as his eyes snapped open, the feeling to kill was what he knew deep down.
“So much anger to compress then?”
He had no idea how he managed to move so quickly to try to kill the Cheshire Cat, tears were blood red as rage was all he felt in the moment. “You should shut your mouth! Before I cut your tongue out!” he roared as his skin was sticky pale once again, his face contorted into an expression of anger.
Like clockwork, the cat disappeared into thin air with the enraged Doctor hitting the ground with a thud. He then stood up and his eyes were blood red to look at the Cheshire Cat once again with hatred.
(Digitally drawn by Icefir]
“Temper, temper now, Doctor, there’s no need for such dismember.” he rhymed again, enraging again the fury within. Richtofen yelled “Shut up!! Do you know vhat I had tried!?” as he was about to run towards but he stopped… he then violently shook his head as the normal skin color returned and blood tears stopped coming from his eyes when he snapped them shut. He was panting when he opened his eyes that went back to normal as they were while he was trying to rationalize what he had been doing earlier.
Cheshire Cat took light cautious steps towards him, then sat down with the same grin on his face and spoke “Render such anger you had been bottling up on the inside, tender with such hatred that tightening up the strings that grasped your heart. Truly, something that you do not want to become more than you realized.”
“Vhat is happening to me?” he muttered under his breath as he looked at the damaged gloves with wounds on the palms of his hands, wounds and cuts on them are different on each one out of two hands from his attempts to remove the debris blocking the entrance.
“Plain as things were happening around you, through the pain and such a main act to her what can be a plan.”
“Her plan?” he breathlessly muttered after a long pause, Cheshire Cat then looked at him as he could read his mind. “And no, not the little girl you know back with Maxis, but another woman who’s soul had changed and corrupted with power much more than what is to others' imagination, even yours.”
“Vho vas she?”
“The very being who controls everything, once a mortal human, flesh and blood, longing for such a fresh start to begin what was a gloved new beginning but may such as things like the plans for the future being led by a stray.”
“Enough vith zhe rhymes already,” he growled, “Just tell me vho already?”
“For me, and for Alice, poems may be mysterious as it seems, such as they can be unspoken but for now, she can be referred to as The Broken.”
“The Broken?”
“The Broken indeed, whose emotions are quite shaken and hatred she had been used as a token to a game that is so swollen that her soul was exploded as a bomb, no pun intended.”
“None taken,” P!Richtofen said softly as he now looked at the Cheshire Cat, “But vhy..? Vhy us?” he choked out, “None of us had done anything wrong to her? Vhy do we deserve zhis? Vhy does Alice had to-?”
“This is before the barricade was tampered with,” Cheshire interrupted Edward, “Time before you came into her wonderland for the first time in years after such standard tragic events unfold before your eyes. As for questions we have at the moment, shall remain unanswered for the time being.”
“I…” he spoke softly as he smelled smoke and looked at his hands, steam rose as his palms were beginning and completing healing as well with his gloves that seemed to have repaired themselves. “I understand, ve can figure zhis out later on but first, ve must deal vith vhat had been happening first: Survive zhe next two days.”
“Good,” Cheshire Cat said, “then I must depart now as you must understand, I had to go to Alice’s side as you are smart enough on your own. Apart from being unarmed, a weapon that is new yet familiar will come to you then you will stand guard from a safe distance.”
That’s what Cheshire had said before he vanished into nothing before Primis Richtofen would ask him what he meant by that. He stood where he was for a few moments in dubiety and hesitated as the cold air swept in the bunker as he had held his arms and looked around with thoughts formed.
“The Broken, hm?” he said as he looked at the blocked entrance one more time, with his head shook at this thought a little moment longer, “Zhis entity had a name now, und it’s all zhat matters right now.”
He looked around the area, since the Vorpal Blade had been taken by Alice and he was in the bunker where the whole journey began in the first place so he could find what he could salvage. Afterall, he is in his mind and in his mind, as he could theorize it, he can find a new weapon in memories since they resided in the brain.
He could use this to his advantage, he thought, so he began to walk around the area so he could jog his memory of his time in Northern France during World War I. He entered the starting area where the first generator should be and he was confused to see that it was replaced with a stone stature of a man he hardly recognized.
A statue of a knight who was Cascadian man with a beard that seem to be spiked on the sides to the rest of his face and he was appeared to be holding his hands out with a magenta aura surrounding a familiar wonder weapon as it floats suspended above the stone statue's hands.
The Doctor was hesitant to walk over to it but he was cautious to approach it with care, he took a closer look at the Wonder Weapon in its hands and noticed the color: Red, a red futuristic pistol with a meter of red to yellow then to green, the blast-o-manic. The Ray Gun was what he can remember, he lightly smiled at this as he had recalled something from this… Situation in the excavation site after all.
He was slow to reach for it, worried what will happened if he did this too fast but when he made contact with the aura, it presented a vision:
“Maxcine! No!”
He wrenched his hand back from the aura as he was disturbed to present a vision by it with a voice yelling in his head, Maxcine? Who was that? But he had to get that ray gun from the statue so he tried again as he reassured himself he could dwell on it later and this time, he was prepared to get the ray gun and thankfully, it was only one vision and nothing happened when he grabbed it and pulled it away from the statue.
He inspects the ray gun closely as he realizes something about this is different from the one he knows and made; it had similar markings to the Vorpal Knife he had before it had gone to Alice, the glowing barrel was blue, similar to the element he knows.
Rest of it was normal to his eyes, he then checks the ammo from the said Ray Gun, the battery comes out and sees the battery had the Cheshire’s smile on it, confused but learned this could be Alice’s mental realm was mixing with his own so he had to go with what it is.
*You have gotten the Wonder Ray Gun!
*The weapon you had made from a dream.
*Well… Now you are living that dream,
*In your mind.
He heard the screeching of the dead that formed from his memories, as he sighed “Back to vhere it began… in mein mind.” as he looked at the generator once more, “I have to get zhe generators vorking once more, zhey vill attack soon.” with a bit of hope he had left, he pulled the switch and the conversion began as Maxis’s recorded voice spoke
“Starting the conversion generator!”
Corrupted Zombie templars came out from the beams of light, he pointed the Ray Gun at them as they were coming closer, familiar to the patterns of the undead and then fired.
-Later on-
A blast of blue light flashed and another corrupted zombie templar fell down from where it stood as the last conversation generator had completed, Edward wiped the sweat from his brow from the mental survival in his mind.
“Zhis is just as hard as I remembered.” he sighed the thought out from his head. He looked around the area and noticed a door in the middle of the mud, he had to forced walk over to the door through the mud and he managed to get to the door when he’s near enough, he never liked the mud and he still doesn’t like it now like this as he growled in annoyance and accomplishment. “I still can’t move in zhe mud!” he complained, “I can endure zhings but even in zhis mental realm of mine?!”
He looked at the door and thought for a moment, this door had appeared out of nowhere and this is not what he had made, it looked like a brown metal door in the middle of nowhere, with no handle and it looked like something that could be in a city park.
With hesitation, he pushed the door open and on the other side of the door was a local park much to his surprise, no corpses, no trenches, no blood and gore. Nothing but it is mostly cloudy and bits of sun was peeking through before it was shaded by said clouds. Still, it’s a perfect day to be in a park if you live near one.
Just a normal park with a playground and swing set, he heard the door closed behind him and he looked at the wooden sign post with the letters had flipped sideward that read “Windsor Park.”
He spotted someone, a young woman, swinging on one of the swings with a set of headphones. The music was loud enough to make someone deaf as she was smiling. She did a reckless thing by tipping her head downward as she swung downward but she tipped it back up when she went upward as she was going fast.
He wondered why she was doing that since he can see what she is doing is dangerous as the young woman seemed to be having fun but if he was in her shoes, it must’ve felt alive.
She looked up from whatever world she is living in with music blasting all out of from the small devise and seemed to noticed something from a far and then soon out of the blue, she dropped her legs and her boots skids on the ground that was sprinkled all over by shards of wood chips in the playground and most of them had flew in behind her when they made contact and more in front of her like a swinging asteroid that can’t decide which way to land so it made dirt flew in two directions.
She came to a stop finally and paused her loud music as she pulled off her aviator hat to pull her headphones down to her neck before putting the hat back on. The hat is somewhat like Nikolai’s but different when he looks at it closer.
From the south side of the park was another woman that’s a bit older, messy blonde hair that is cut above her shoulders, an old red sweater and jean overalls as the young woman was wearing a red sweater herself but it had stripes, a army green pants and boots with belts on them when she ran towards her.
“Hey! Where is your invention?” she asked first when she got close to her, the lady seemed upset as she didn't seem to notice. “Did you finally sell it on the seventh day today?”
“Yeah I-” she seemed to say but stopped herself, “No, I didn’t, sadly. I didn’t get any money.”
“What do you mean by that?” she asked, sad and disappointed, “Izzy, what happened to it?”
“I had to ditch it,” Izzy had confused, “As it turns out, it was way ahead of it’s time I guess.”
“Hey, uh… At least you gave it a shot.” Young Woman sighed with little effort to emphasize the defeated Izzy. “It’s nothing, my mom was right about me being a failure.” she started to speak her mind until she noticed the lone swing now gently swinging from its use.
“Let me guess, you’re living in your own little world?”
“Yep!” she answered happily with a smile, her hazel green eyes glittered and she spoke more “I was imagining myself being with a group of four men, going through dimensions from their 1910’s and saving the universe.”
Izzy laughed at the ridiculousness of her friend’s la-la-la dreamland and patted her back, “I wish I was like you so I could live in my own wonderland 24-7. But this is real life, Meaghan, we all have to live in it too, ya know.”
“I know.” Meaghan said as if she didn't want to believe it from Izzy’s mouth, “Hey, can we go over to your house?”
“Again why- Oh.” Izzy realized, “Is your mom and stepfather fighting again?”
“Yeah, each time, it gets worse verbally.”
“I can tell but thankfully, my dad is too mellow-to-a-fellow person to make arguments.” Izzy said as she patted Meaghan on the back with her eyes closed and a smile. They then began to walk towards the other side of the park on the east park with their hands holding on.
As Primis Richtofen watched them go, a fog, an unnatural black fog rolled in as he looked around the area. Happiness and calm were erased from the scenes and only darkness, fear, hatred and bloodlust remained in their places as he shuddered.
He walked backwards when he felt the back of his head hit something, something sharp and wet. He turned to see a rusted hook but it looked like it had been sharpened regularly despite it being a rusted-reddish-brown texture.
He raised his gloved hand to touch it and when it had contacted the hanging object, it was iron with rust, as he got the disturbing feel from it. He contracted his hand back from it with disgust. He then looked around as he realized that he was in a forest that appeared to be dead for a while now but signs of living trees are scattered here and there far as the eye can see.
As he managed to see more yet fewer hooks and the car engine that seemed to be working right but it was on a device that it was sitting on. It appears to be a generator that needs to be fixed as the light it was hooked up to is flickering.
He must have been distracted for a moment when he jumped out of his own skin by the yell of pain, he turned in shock and saw a young Irish man clenching his side as it was bleeding crimson but he was fastly limping from whatever injured him. He then stopped for a moment to look behind him, a woman with orange hair that was tied in two braided pigtails was running but a hatchet flew out of the fog and hit her perfectly on her back and that caused her to fall down.
“Meg!” he yelled out for her but Meg yelled back “Just keep going, David! I’ll be fine!”
David, with no thoughts, continued limping faster as he heard singing of a woman had started and whoever had stroke Meg with a hatchet had picked her up while he pulled what appeared to be a pallet downward to where he came from, forming an observable for what… or who it was to deal with before he continued on.
Then, a loud scream of Meg ringed through the air as David knew he had to run faster across the forested area as he was reaching closer to a ruined and broken house as its window was wide opened. He hopped into it and then slid down the wall as he still held his wound while Richtofen watched.
“Christ…” he muttered under his breath, “Gonna ‘ave a pint right abooeht now.” as he looked at the injury and then heighed in pained moan. “damn, if dings can't get any wahrse what she 'ave.”
Primis Richtofen looked at the young man further as he had a noticeable scar on the left eyebrow and his hair had shaved to a crown like his and his clothes were a jacket, a dirty white dress shirt, a watch, jeans and shoes that were caked in mud from running limb.
He noticed a hand appeared and touched David’s shoulder that made him flinched in adrenaline as he groaned “Jesus-!!” but relaxed a little when he saw a rich-looking blonde man who, in what Richtofen can make out, a German based on his nationality and his clothes is what the rich people could afford but he doesn’t seem to care that his clothes were dirty or bloody as he all he cared about is David’s condition.
“Bloody hell, Felix….” the Irish man muttered as he looked at him, Felix, who held a med kit while he held a finger over his mouth and shook his head slowly. David seemed to get what the message meant: Stay quiet, no matter how much you wanted to groan in pain out loud.
He nodded as he removed his arm from the wound; a sharp gash that was bleeding profusely as Felix softly cursed to himself when he looked at the injury David had as he looked at it.
“You always get into fights, David King.” Felix said his full name as he placed the alcohol on a rag after opening the kit and then gently placed his wound to which David grunt in pain through his teeth and eyes shut tight as P!Richtofen seemed confused about what was going on with the situation they were in. have they put themselves in danger of whoever their mystery killer is and out for their blood as they are struggling to survive.
Felix seemed too focused on his injury when David King just looked over his shoulder and yelled “Watch out-!!” and like that, an ax had borrowed into Felix’s shoulder as the singing returned. Panicked understandingly, David got up and then ran, leaving Felix to be lifted up by a… figure.
P!Richtofen could watch helplessly as Felix had tried to frail and thrash about to escape as a man- Woman, woman clad in a hare’s mask and a black cloak sewn to it carried Felix towards one of the hooks with a looming dread. With full force, she had hooked Felix, the pointed end entered through the back and out of the other side of his uninjured right shoulder on the front.
Felix lets out an agonizing scream through the air as the rabbit-masked lady walked away and heading towards P!Richtofen’s position, leaving him to die as Richtofen flinched and had gotten the Wonder Ray Gun out, ready to defend himself but he was shocked yet relieved when she walked through him and went after someone else: David King.
David was limping faster as he saw another pallet ahead of him, small hatchets were flying through the air and mostly missed David as he made it and slammed the pallet down as he fell down and watched the killer rabbit lady stop in her tracks at once after it fell in front of her.
He was scattering on the ground for a moment before giving her the finger as he gained foot on the floor and then continued limping with Richtofen running to catch up the pair. He had noticed that the rabbit lady had looked at the pallet then, wearing no boots and only bandages covering her bare, dirty and cut feet, proceeded to kick down the wall and then succeeded in doing so.
She continues on with her humming a lullaby and a chuckle.
Баю-баюшки баю
Не ложися на краю
Придёт серенький волчок
И укусит за бочок
The lullaby she is singing is in Russian so there’s no doubt she is one like Nikolai, she seemed to enjoy the hunt, the fear coming out of David, the bloodlust and the thrill of the prey running away but when he looked into her eyes: they are almost pitch black, no color but light in them, perfectly blending in the rabbit mask to give such an adorable yet terrifying appearance.
“Almost dere...!” he muttered as he reached the other side of the forest, that side was a gate with three light bulbs glowing green and it was opened. David King was nearly there with the hope of getting out of here alive when he felt a hatchet dig into his back, making him fall down and hit the ground with a scream.
P!Richtofen stood there in bombard bewilderment when the Huntress walked over to the crawling Irish man like it was a causal day, blood was pooling from the doomed man as he tries crawling towards the gate when a foot had forcibly pinned him on the injured side of his hip, yearning a yelp in agony from David.
He was left trying to get her foot off of his hip to escape as the Huntress chuckled at the futile attempt David was trying to do, P!Richtofen wanted to help and stop her so the survivor could escape but he can’t physically even punch this psychopath so all he could do helplessly is watch what she is going to do next.
The Huntress then again stamped onto the wound with force, David yelled with his eyes shut tight from the pain shooting through his body. As Richtofen watched on, she then straddled the man before her and then got out a carving knife, a knife used to skin the hunting game for food and made sure that David King was looking at the glamor of light coming from it.
He tried to struggle again but he was punched in the abdomen, forcing him still in suffering and then he felt the knife cutting through the injury that Felix had tried to patch up and he screamed unlike anything he had ever done before. The Huntress has cut off a piece of flesh from David and then placed the chunk of human meat onto a sack with her bloody hands, tied it up and then hangs it onto her WWI utility belt then she finally got up from David and then stood there to watch.
With little strength he had left, he weakly crawled towards the gate with the blood gushing out of the wound as sand and dirt had gotten onto it as crimson liquid had trailed from it, painting the ground. The Huntress only stood there to watch David crawl into the gate as it was closing, letting him escape with his life as Richtofen felt like, without a doubt, that David is going to live with the images of what she did to him for a little while.
Then, he heard what sounded like a bell rung out of nowhere with The Huntress looking up from her handy work, with no more hesitation, she began to walk and then enter the fog as she is blissfully unaware that the Doctor is following her.
The forest was the same but overtime shortly, it began to change slowly in the fog as she and Richtofen were walking into it. The lining of trees are fading away, must’ve been the thickness of the fog itself or that they had actually disappeared when it consumed them.
The area taking its place was a field and right now, they are running through it in a yellow-gray cloudy nighttime sky with the ax and ray gun in their hands. Where are they going? Who is this killer? Where was this memory doing in his mind.
Questions are forming, Edward was too confused about all of this but then she began to slow down when she reached an old western setting, a ghost town within seemingly abandoned or so he thought. She then walked through the town with Edward behind her as he eventually stopped when he heard something animalistic and squishy.
He turned to see a person, devouring a corpse of a man as blood was gushing and squirting out blood when he….. No, no man can have the hind legs of a dog?
He walked towards it nervously and then he reached his hand out to touch it but whatever this “man” was somehow sensed his presence or just felt like it was being approached, “man” turned and revealed itself to Edward with a roar. This creature didn’t have a face but a face of its own, a flower-like mouth that bloomed as one and its teeth were needles as it screeched at Richtofen as he stood paralyzed in fear.
Blood was poured from its mouth when it had opened it to roar at him, this creature was something straight out of a nightmare and he can’t decide that this creature is what the Corrupted Keeper will eventually look like or it’s an apothicon that evolved too much.
Thankfully for him, it lasted a moment before the “Apothicon” closed its mouth and then it ran off into the different direction, leaving its meal and himself there.
He got to the full inspection of the corpse it had been eating, it was filled with tiny holes, the gashes and open wounds were caused by its teeth digging into it without a doubt. The claw marks and scratches were on the corpse as well, properly the creature had made whoever weaker in order for it to enjoy eating it’s victim alive.
Being eaten alive by a zombie was the terrible way to go but being eaten by this flower-mouth creature alive must have been a horrific way to leave this world for good. He doesn’t want to die like this, he hates to imagine.
He shook his head away from the thought of it.
He then looked and realized that he had lost her when he was looking at the “Apothicon” with inspection, he was amazed that he was distracted by the creature that he had lost track of.
“Vhere did she go?” he muttered under his breath as he wandered around the area, as he did, he had noticed that he is not the only one here besides the Huntress and the monster; there were other people and most of them had the “not welcoming” feelings coming off of them.
One of them is an Asian man, a Koren man that seemed young and had ominous yellow eyes as he did wore a shirt but he does seem to wear a yellow trench coat with white diamonds on the side, magenta/purple pants with lines going down to the punk-style boots as he played around a set of neon glowing throwing knives.
The other appeared to be a corpse but it was shambling to walk with eye sockets empty and only dark gaping holes in them and sharp teeth as clothes that were once clothing used to cover its form. Limping across the town with one deformed claw for a hand as it made odd glittering/gurgling sounds.
Another was a man with scars and hooks in him, wearing a mask made from bone and an overalls and boots wielding a cleaver as it appeared as he looked around.
The other one is normal-looking except with a latex mask with fake brown and a blue jumpsuit, holding a kitchen knife as he stood in the fog as the Shape.
While walking, he noticed a gang of four people, wearing different masks as one of them, one that with a burning skull tattoo on his neck seemed to notice him but looked away. The Legion as they called themselves when he heard them talking.
He looked over to them and then was going to continue when he was in front of an old western man, an Irish descendant with a black hat, a trench coat and his eyes are in fact white and black. The scar on the side of his face is where you can see teeth and gums from the hole, the scar itself was a wound that’s been left untreated and infected.
His hair is ghostly white as if he had aged but his soul had refused
“Caleb-san!” a voice echoed from the fog, getting the seemingly dead man’s attention as his pale skin was shined by the dim lantern’s light. A girl was in the saloon called “Dead Dawg Saloon” as he began to walk towards it, he grunted in pain as he lifted the end of his coat to reveal a brace on his right leg.
Yet, he endured it as he walked down towards the saloon itself, closer look, the girl is an Asian yet her skin is ghostly blue and she wore nothing but bandages to cover her and she appeared to be dismembered, her arm and leg are in pieces but fully function as they float like nothing is wrong.
Her black raven hair was floating upwards but there was no wind around the town and it was bleezing around. He limped over to the ghostly figure and asked in an westen, raspy voice.
“What is it, Rin?”
“Have you heard what has been going on?” she answered, her eyes are completely white with no color nor pupils.
“About those things?”
“Hai.”
“I guess it has reached here too, I mostly thought it was the Demogordon.”
“Or Pyramid Head.” Rin had continued, regarding the creature as P!Richtofen listened in, “Something strange is happening in the Fog. More stranger than usual.”
“If that’s the case, if it’s another Killer or survivor; the Entity would’ve let us know by now.” he emphasized as he readjusts his hand on his head.
“Caleb-san, it seems too quiet now.” Rin relented on the fact of the looming fate of what is happening, “It just felt eerie and dire.”
Caleb looked at Rin and she did seem concerned, he then looked around the area and then back to her. “Care to explain what had been going on?”
“Something is lurking in the Fog, something macabre and ill-omened.”
“Isn’t it always macabre and ill-omened here?” he teased.
“I know but something about it was different, grim and unholy has entered here and I can’t help but feel that this is only the beginning.”
“Is that so?” Caleb mumbled with interest and somewhat afraid, “Then in that case, we should keep an eye out on this.”
“It is good advise, do you think we would let the survivors-”
“Let them figure it out on their own, most of them had always known for their knack of finding out more than us.”
“Do you think it could be another killer but-”
“Something that can be worse than us.” he said as he placed a hand on her shoulder, “Who knows what this thing or person could be.” he finished as he walked into the saloon with Rin watching him go in.
“Where are you going?”
“Gettin’ a drink.”
P!Richtofen stood there for a moment as he watched Caleb go in as Rin then vanished into a dark smoke in the air with a humph. “Somezhing dark hmmm….” he muttered as he laid his index finger under his chin as he wondered.
“So it’s going deeper…” then he heard a familiar voice humming the lullaby as it reached his ears, making him turn away from the saloon and saw the Huntress at the barrel, looking through it.
She then pulled out a jar and she had noticed there’s something inside it; a dark crystal. She was confused by what Richtofen could see. Even with the rabbit mask made from paper-mache, she is confused by what she is seeing. Wanting to know more later, she places the jar onto the nearest table and leaves to continue searching the barrel.
The Koren man, The Trickster, had walked around and saw the jar on the table. He looked at the jar on the table and then to the Huntress who was distracted.
P!Richtofen can see the cogs in his head as he smiles as he can sense the level of mischievous coming out of the man judging by his unnatural yellow eyes. The curiosity consumed the doctor as he wondered what he was about to do.
[Funny comic by TikTak, known as This-Person-Is-Slowly-Dying on tumblr.]
With one gentle nudge, he accidentally tipped the jar over and it fell over. Upon impact it shattered on the ground, getting the Huntress’ attention and she turned in shock of what happened.
“Черт возьми, здесь случилось?!” She demanded in shock and anger, Trickster was standing at the table, looking very innocent as the Huntress was agitated but suspicious of him right away just by the way he looked.
In broken English as Edward believed that she had learned poorly, she said “Ji-woon Hak, what have you done to jar?” as she stared an angered glare at his direction while she walked up to him while Richtofen could see the height difference between the Huntress and Ji-woon.
She is a foot taller than the Trickster as he is a little shorter than herself, she must’ve been working out as Ji-woon was a bit taken back from this. “It was nothing, Anna, it must’ve been windy here.” Ji-woon had defended himself, as she somehow saw through his lie with a snarl.
“No wind here is strong enough to knock over objects.” She pointed out the lie to the Trickster, readying her ax as Ji-woon was taken a few steps back from her and said “It was a little tomfoolery. How did you teach that?”
“Huntress’ mother, she taught Anna better than other hunters within the forest.” she muttered as she raised the ax as Ji-woon had readied himself with a bat of his own; a bat was modified as it had equipped with a blade and brass knuckles attached to it.
P!Richtofen was taken back from the sudden standance to attack, eye for an eye as the ax was thrown over her head and-!!
Thunk
It had made contact with a wooden rotten stick on the Trickster’s side that was holding up the one of the old west buildings, chopping it into pieces in one swing and splitters were launched onto the Trickster’s side shoulder with him shielding himself from it.
Huntress had the large ax onto her shoulder as she breathed for a moment as she looked at Ji-woon, still giving him a cold stare and then muttered something under her breath as Ji-woon rested his bat on his shoulder as he spoke.
“Do you lose your footing, Anna?”
“Nyet…” she muttered, “Huntress just wanted to scare Trickster, if different…” she looked at him with the bloodthirsty look, “Huntress will happily skin you alive if Entity allows it.”
Ji-woon simply smiled and patted her shoulder where the ax was not resting and said “That will come one day, we will enjoy tearing each other apart to please it but we will settle with our fans for now.”
With a grunt, she backed away from Ji-woon with a scowl on her face as he winked and then dusted himself off. He winked and then walked away from the scene with the Huntress shook her head.
Entity, Survivors, the Killers, the hooks.
Thoughts on this swimmed in Edward’s head from what he had overhead, could this Broken be the Entity they are referred to? Were they forced into a trial they talked about?
Anna sighed as she let the ax fall from her shoulder as she watched him fade away into the unholy fog with chagrin as eventually she couldn't see him any longer and no sign of his form within it.
She turned to the broken jar on the floor and she was a little taken aback by the sight as P!Richtofen too was surprised; the pieces of the jar are there and accounted for but one thing is missing that was in the jar itself, the black-colored crystal.
She walked over to the pieces and then kneeled down to them to inspect the jar, as she looked at the glass shards and the cork on the ground, about to pick one of them up when a voice, a woman’s, spoke “Don’t pick one up, you’ll be cut.”
Primis Richtofen had never seen someone other than his Takeo get up from the ground quickly to confront the voice behind her and then stopped when she saw it was a figure. A dark figure with red glowing cracks that were attached to a red spot on it’s chest, it had four fingers as the forth one acted as a thumb and three toes. The two quails on the back of it’s head as it’s red prying eyes are looking at the killer with intent.
She was getting ready to attack when it spoke again “Hello,” and it made her stop in shock to let it continue talking. “My little Anna.”
[Pictures made by TikTak, also known as This-Person-is-Slowly-Dying on tumblr]
“Momma?” she spoke, a little bit of her part was refusing to believe what she was hearing from this illusion. P!Richtofen had gotten a bad feeling from what this creature was doing or what it was planning to do.
“You have been hunting?”
The Huntress that was a bloodthirsty monster had turned a child too shy to speak but nodded. The dark being loomed over her and held her hand with soft red eyes. “Very good, very good for you.” it spoke to but then shook its head that made her head tilt to the right in confusion.
“Sad to see that I am not alive to hold you close. Do you like that so badly, Anna?”
“Da, da very much love to hug you once again.” she pleaded as the Doctor was getting an eerie feeling that something dreadful is making its place in the fog, an ill-omened unearthly event.
“Well, you will have to agree with your mother on this condition; it may hurt but you will feel much better than ever and in that way, you will be able to hunt better.”
“What does Anna do to be better?” She asked, curious of the unfamiliar lesson from her “mother” as it claims itself to be. “Something that keeps your body going, yet, I like to take over for a little while and I will let you get back control afterwards, do you agree?”
“Of course-” she agreed but stopped when she felt something being… pulled from her body. P!Richtofen had watched it go down from where he had stood in shock as Anna’s very soul was pulled out of her body with a grunt and tears, neither dark nor normal, had flowed down her cheeks.
[Digitally drawn by Meaghan “Icefir” Halter]
From her chest as it floated over to the “mother’s” claw, a soul had a certain edition to it; a red dot with a circle surrounding it. A few pieces of the creature cracked from it;s body and then they covered it and formed a shape of a crystal with the soul trapped inside of it; a sapphire that’s symbolized like a crescent moon with a color of blood red.
What happened next with a blur, her rabbit mask was given a traditional edition to it with the same gem with her soul inside of it and soon she had begun to change, her mask was a sickly gray red or pink colored with two dark gray stripes for each eye hole, then a navy blue hood with tan fur sewn onto it’s ends as well with a navy blue coat that had coiled around the hood by it’s base of neck level going downward until it reached the bottom as stitches had mostly kept it together to support their purpose of maintaining it and a dirty blanket stained in dirt and blood was tied to her side and a skinned dog platted was tied to her side as well, looking lifeless with it’s mouth sewn shut.
She now wore gloves with belts on the left wrist and arm while the other two are on her right arm, sleeves on the end are torque green but dirty.
“Well, can you do what I want you to do, my little Anna?”
The Huntress had given a dark smile and said “Anything for you, momma…” as she was willing to serve this deity after it had changed her as if it had… possessed her in a way that a demon works as glowing red pupils had appeared in her eyes.
[Digitally drawn by Meaghan “Icefir” Halter]
The sight he was seeing before him could not describe how it felt when it had gone up his spine; something deadly and corrupt, most foul and unnatural about this undesirable wish she had created.
If it’s about being able to see their family member after so long? Yes please but he does not want that wish that will turn him like this. Whatever the Huntress had encountered was something more than her mother; an impostor, a demon, a condemned.
“It’s time to hunt but in a different realm.”
As if on cue, she raised her hatchet as she turned to face the direction the Doctor is and then one swift move, she tossed it at him as he screamed.
#All-Stars -Story Mode-#Call of Duty Zombies#American Mcgee's Alice#Dead by Daylight#Halloween#Stranger Things#Silent Hill#Primis Edward Richtofen#Alice Liddell#Cheshire Cat#Alice in Wonderland#The Huntress#The Deathslinger#The Spirit#The Legion#The Trickster#The Hag#The Trapper#The Demogorgon#The Executioner [Mentioned only]#The Shape#David King#Meg Thomas#Felix#OC Speices#Crystallines [Corrupted version]#I think I left more out let me know#Edited
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
One would think that in such a restaurant bar such as this, -- a branch-off of a four-star tourist-trap hotel, a hub of travel-weary businesspeople and high school socialites with fake IDs, all in top-brand suits and casuals and shoes -- the drinks would be the nectar milked from the teats of whatever deities represented alcoholic drinks.
But they’re shit. They’re absolute shit.
Still, Peter sat hunched over his glass of gin, musing without amusement how it would be no different if he just went to any old convenience store with a medical shelf, buy a bottle of rubbing alcohol with a high isopropyl content and down that, instead. No, there would be one difference: it wouldn’t taste as watered-down.
He planted the slice of lemon in his mouth, nibbling it to mitigate some of the taste of disappointment, scrolling through his home feed to stave off the awful mood of being wrung dry by the bearded, buff barbarian in a sleek black button-up, and the faceless corporation that he worked for. But some part of him was looking to feed his foul mood, or maybe he was feeling adventurous, because he mulled over whether or not he should order a glass of champagne and keep the train of minor bad decisions going. It was the weekend, after all, and he wouldn’t need to be back to work for another week.
When he forced another sip of the gin down his throat, Peter was ready to decide against it when a flute appeared before him, anyhow. “Er...” Peter said, reaching for the waiter’s arm to stop him from popping open the bottle. “I didn’t order this.”
The waiter across the room. “Courtesy of the gentleman over there.”
Furrowing his brow, Peter turned his stool in the direction the server pointed out, ignoring the gentle pop of the undone cork and the hiss of bubbles.
Immediately, a hand rose above the crowd, the crystal whiskey glass capturing what light it could in this dimly-lit cave and twinkling many colors like a beacon in a gray sea.
Either the distance and the low lights must be to blame, or Peter must be forgiven for being mean, but the guy looked like a bore.
Average rectangular frame, his receding and lackluster dark hair snipped into a budget hair style, slacks that were reminiscent of the private high schools of every wild child’s nightmare. Only thing about the man that stood out (at least from across the room) was the well-worn leather jacket with its tarnished buckles, a vintage beauty that spoke to Peter’s tendency for nostalgia.
But a jacket ain’t enough to impress, so Peter turned back to the server to order him to take the drink back, only to find that the man had already disappeared, leaving the filled flute and the open bottle on the bar table.
“Ah, shit...” Peter mumbled. He picked up the flute and lifted it, lips curled in a half-assed grin to the “gentleman”, whose own face seemed to brightened. And then...
“Ah, shit!” Peter hissed under his breath as he watched the other man rise out of his seat god fucking damn it. And despite his attempt to look casual, the guy sure was legging it, a quarter of the way to Peter’s table by the time Peter had drained half the flute. And maybe the bubbles were getting to Peter’s head, because in the blink of an eye, the gentleman was easing himself onto the seat next to Peter, resting his elbows on the table, giving an oozing, schmoozing smile as Peter hurried to refill his glass.
“I had a feeling you’d like the top-quality stuff,” the gentleman said.
The “top-quality” stuff tasted like diet off-brand grape soda two years past its expiration date, but still... “Thank you,” Peter murmured. His gratitude was genuine; at least he wouldn’t have to waste money on what he knew was going to be an awful drink thanks to the generosity of the other man. That didn’t change the fact that he kept his head down, eyes on his phone screen, his voice soft from immediate withdrawal of this conversation.
Of course, the gentleman took it as modesty, and leaned in a bit closer. “You know, it’s been pretty hard finding a lady so refined around here.”
Peter almost choked on the drink, barely catching himself. He cleared his throat, reaching for the folded napkin left with the bottle to dab away the drops on his lips. Thank god for Vice lipstick.
Peter knew he could never hope for the rich baritone of James Earl Jones or Vin Diesel, but he had something, so he used it when he lifted his head and returned the gentleman’s grin. “Why, thank you, sir.” Then, he waited for the not-all-that-feminine deep voice to register on the other man’s voice, for the man’s eyes to go clear and see all the subtle masculine traits hidden underneath the fashion, like the beginnings of an angular jaw despite the youthful plump and rosiness of Peter’s cheeks, or the broadness of Peter’s lean shoulders to make up for the lack of bodybuilder muscles, or a chest that was flat beyond bee-sting A cups. He waited for...
Well, Peter didn’t know what reaction he was waiting for -- confused, maybe over-the-top like the man apologizing profusely or toppling from his chair to get away, or red in the face and foamy at the mouth, as if Peter’s mere existence in a dress was to cheat him out of an unrequested drink -- but he didn’t expect the heat in the man’s eyes to burn brighter, or the flash of white teeth as the man briefly nibbled his bottom lip.
For a moment, Peter froze, his mouth cinching close, his jaw locking, something besides the cheap grape juice curdling in his gut. He lowered the glass and tried to wade through the conflicting storms of his hunger for attention and the electrical fright that made him want to zap right out of the room. He gazed around, telepathically calling for an adult, any adult, to come intervene.
The man curled his fingers around Peter’s chin and tilted his head back to him, taking in Peter’s wider eyes and, once more, mistaking it for whatever Peter didn’t even want to know. The man’s brow quirked. He lowered his hand to Peter’s forearm. How can a hand be so dry yet so clammy? “I guess you don’t really do this often, do you?”
When Peter slowly and silently shook his head, something alit even brighter in the man’s eyes. “Wait... would I be the first?”
Peter would have answered, would have said “no”, not because he had experience with this before, but because he had no experience with this before and he wasn’t planning on doing so ever. But he was frozen further with shock, stunned at the eager in the question, as if the gentleman wanted a resounding “yes”. He swallowed against the tightness of his throat.
The gentleman chuckled before Peter could say anything. “Wow.... well, alright, then! Don’t worry, I can make your first time here splendid, so you know how to do this right. Do you want to name your price here, or over dinner, or in the room?”
Peter shook his head. “I don’t want--” He blinked, feeling his mouth fall open. “Wait, what?”
The gentleman reached over Peter to get the napkin. He flicked it open, and both of them watched as the plastic card with the hotel’s blue and lavender logo landed on the surface. The man picked up the key card, and the gleam on the man’s wrist finally caught Peter’s eyes. A large, silver watch studded with diamonds around the face. What also hadn’t passed Peter’s notice was the twinkle of the golden band around the other man’s finger.
The storm in Peter’s head brewed more violently, as fire burned under his skin and spread all over his face. He wondered what part of his ensemble -- a brown cashmere jacket, a baby blue skater dress, and black boots no taller than his ankles (wait, was it the fishnet stockings?!) -- gave this guy the idea that Peter was in that part of the field. He imagined that somewhere out there, a wife and two and a half kids were tucked away in a picket fence property, waiting for the return of this piece of shit. And enthralled by the fury that the last thought wrought, Peter developed an urge to throw the drink into this man’s face, followed by a fist with the full force of four tons of steel and concrete.
And centered in the wild storm, still and resolute like a shelter promising protection from the lethal weather, was another bad idea.
Peter kept his eyes wide, holding on to some semblance of his dissipating shock and confusion to help sell the act. He took another tentative sip of his drink. “Oh, well, okay. We can just go to your room, if you want. We can also make it a party if we have another one of these...” He picked up the open bottle and slowly swirled it, tilting his head.
The man nodded and raised a hand to grab the waiter’s attention.
---
Excitement set Peter’s fingertips tingling.
It came not from the bottle of champagne passed between himself and John (not really the guy’s name), nor from the smacking wet lips and the pawing hands John pressed against whatever part of Peter’s body he could reach (at least he had enough decency to not try to kiss Peter’s mouth). It came from the idea taking root within Peter’s skull. Through the buzz, Peter realized that the idea was a fuzzy picture that needed further development. So, he sharpened the image, turning it over as the two men stumbled arm-in-arm out the elevator and down the hall. A familiar stoicism settled in his chest as he tried to work out all the kinks, thought over the many ways this could go wrong and how to prevent them or weasel his way out of them. He felt like he was on the battlefield again in trying to make this foolproof.
That stony, removed feeling crumbled to dust when John stopped in front of a door and fumbled to stick his keycard in the slot with drunk hands. Oh shit, came the sobering thought once again. I’m really going to do this.
The door beeped and John reached behind him to grab Peter’s wrist. Peter let out a series of yelps as John tugged him inside, slammed the door shut, shoved Peter against the door, and locked him in place by tangling his legs with Peter’s legs and wrapping an arm around the small of Peter’s back. And then, to the Sealander’s utter, stomach-dropping horror, came the humping.
It shouldn’t have surprised Peter, since he knew what John was after, but to so suddenly be thumping against the wooden door while some drunkard ground...pound...rubbed? What was John even thinking he was doing? He was doing something with his pulsing ere..ction against Peters pelvis, and whatever it was, Peter’s body was stunned, the lights above them blinding his eyes as he tried to turn his head away, with a thought ringing loud:
I can’t do this.
Ican’tdothisIcan’tdothisIcan’tdothisIcan’tdothisIcan’tdothisIcan’tdothis
And his fort called to him, ready to put some force in his fight whenever he was ready, reminding him that he had no need to succumb to the sickening, sinking terror and regret. And, oh, how much easier it would make things, to just bash John’s nose in or throat punch him, watch him struggle to breath until he fell unconscious, or punch him in the chest and hope that it was the right moment, the split second between heartbeats...
Then John’s other hand slid up the wall, and Peter caught the shine of his wedding band before John tangled his fingers into Peter’s hair, tugging to angle his head and expose his neck. The fear rot into anger, the anger into dogged and vengeful determination, as Peter felt John reach down to tug at his skirt, and slobber against his neck, “So, how much?”
Peter grabbed onto that moment of clarity, calmed himself with it to think clearly, and began wriggling and shifting his body until John was dry humping Peter’s outer thigh. He let out a flat p.or.n star moan, louder and more strained than John’s muffled grunting, and tugged at the shell of John’s ear with his teeth. “That depends, sweetheart: what do you want, and how long you can go.” And because he was feeling silly, he dropped one of the bottles -- it was mostly empty, anyway -- and used his free hand to smack the tragically tiny bump through John’s slacks that must have to pass for John’s ass cheek. It felt like hitting a brick wall.
But it worked. John backed off enough for Peter to guide them away from the door and to sit his gentleman caller on a nearby chair. He then mounted John’s lap with enough space between them that Peter wouldn’t feel John’s enthusiasm between his legs again, and wrenched the cork out of the second bottle with his teeth. John laid out his demands in a tone that sounded like suggestions, snaking a hand up Peter’s skirt. Peter tossed out some high bullshit numbers to demands he forgot the moment they were spoken, putting the bottle to John’s lips and taking John’s hand off his thigh to suck on one of his fingers (and hoping that the bathroom had complementary mouthwash). With the deal made and already forgotten on Peter’s part, Peter slid off John’s lap and unlaced his boots.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Peter said, toeing his footwear off and shrugging out of his jacket, “I’d like to get freshened up for you. Get the stuff ready for us?” When John tugged out a condom and packet of lube from his pocket with a nod, Peter skipped off to the bathroom.
He closed the door and went to the sink. He turned the water on, and then began the shakes. With trembling fingers and unsteady hands, Peter tried to splash cold water on his face, multiple times, and only stopped once the temperature made his teeth chatter worse and after getting water all over the sink top, the floor, and some of his hair that fell to his face. He straightened, yanking a hand towel from the rack and patting his face dry, then wetting a corner of it to wipe down his neck and collarbone and legs, not caring that it was wetting his stockings as long as the feeling can be scrubbed off.
The towel dropped to the floor; Peter searched frantically for the mouthwash and, finding it, guzzled half the tiny bottle and swishing it until it burned into his gums. He spat, and felt so awful for the housekeeper who will have to come in and clean his mess, but when he straightened from the bowl and looked at the mess reflected in the mirror, Peter’s focused was on one thing:
He was going to do this.
He was already nauseous, still stunned by the feel of another man’s erection to the point of being dizzy, but he was in a foul enough mood to want to go through with it.
So, he left the bathroom, finding John standing in the middle of the room, holding a phone to his ear.
“--sweetie, I’ll be home in a couple days, then we can take that vacation.”
Peter approached John’s back, feeling a twinge of satisfaction as he pressed himself against John’s jacket, nestled his chin on John’s shoulder, and ran his palms up and down John’s thighs (not exactly touching anywhere near the pitch tent) then his hips, and then the brick wall that was his ass. It felt mechanical, like Peter playing airport security, but the grazing hands were enough to draw out a sharp gasp from his... client.
“Listen, I’ll have to call you tomorrow, I need to get some rest for tomorrow’s meeting. Love you, bye!”
John tossed the phone on the bed. He gave a shiver as Peter’s hands roamed higher and massage his chest through his shirt.
Peter kissed John’s shoulder through the jacket. “Hey, you promised me that you’ll make my first time doing this splendid, right?” he murmured.
“Mhm,” John moaned.
Peter nuzzled his nose along the back of John’s neck, breathed on it, whispering, “Well... what if I don’t want splendid? What if I want real? What if I want...” he disguised the chuckle over this utter bullshit as a breathy, needy moan. “Wild?”
John furrowed his eyebrows. “Wild?”
Peter grabbed the jacket’s lapels and yanked them back, wrenching the fabric down until it bunched messily around John’s wrist and bound them behind his back. This could have gone south quickly; maybe John wasn’t into bondage, maybe he was repulsed by it. Maybe he found the idea infuriating, that some fresh-faced streetwalker new to the game and too stupid to ask for money upfront thinks he’s so special, thinks he’s so cute, that he can just change up the terms and, worse, dominate? And maybe Peter was hoping for that, hoping that John would be so turned off that he’d throw Peter out.
But then Peter grabbed a fistful of John’s hair and yanked his head back. The man let out a choked whimper, his hips twitching forward.
“How much would you cough up to make this unforgettable for me?” Peter grunted, toying with John’s belt and holding in a shudder as he felt the cock push against the fabric.
John opened his eyes, and Peter could see them rolled to the back of his head. “You can clear out my bank account.”
It would be a lie to say that Peter wasn’t tempted, to reverse course and make this a real transaction. Why the fuck should he care about some faceless woman far away, it wasn’t Peter’s marriage in the ruins. And maybe a night of getting laid would do his foul mood some good; probably not a good lay, but how the hell would Peter know the difference?
Plus, who wouldn’t want to be swimming in coin for a night of feigned passion?
Then the phone started to buzz, and the groan John howled out wasn’t pleasure. “God, I hope that bitch isn’t calling me, again.”
Peter pressed his tongue to his cheek. Nope, none of that was worth it.
He unfastened the belt and trailed enticing kisses along John’s shoulder, up to behind his ear as he worked the button and fly. He tugged the pants down to the ankles, ordering John to step out of them. He led John to the bed and pushed him facedown on the mattress, and went back to take out the belt from the discarded pants. When he returned to the bed, Peter looked down on the sprawling figure with his ass in the air. If he pulled down John’s unremarkable undies down to his ankles, Peter could just leave him like that, since by the time John hobbled his way to the door and managed to get it open, Peter would be long gone. But Peter had to be careful, see how far and how much he could take this.
Standing beside the bed, Peter freed John from his temporary restraints and flipped him onto his back. A hip jutting out, with his teeth biting on his bottom lip, Peter wound one end of the belt around a hand and yanked, snapping the belt. He’d think that with all the times he’s posed like this in front of the camera, it would come easily to him now, but maybe it’s too different when the viewer was right there, and could see his face. Yet, for all the awkwardness Peter felt, John didn’t seem to sense it, gazing up at Peter with glazed-over eyes.
Peter moved John’s hands up to the bed post. Once the watch and ring came off and were set on the bedside table, muscle memory took over, and Peter could almost smell the salt of the sea and the rust of his fort as he looped the belt around the wrists and the wooden post like the many times he secured items to his platform. One final tug, and the leather was biting into John’s limb, already rubbing the skin red as John squirmed to get comfortable. Peter’s hands trailed down John’s arm, down his torso, going to his lap and digging fingernails into the flesh, feeling nothing when John’s breath hitch and came out in a low hiss, still feeling removed when he released John’s thigh and left nail marks.
‘Oh, god,” John rasped, his head lolling to the side. “Oh, please fuck me, Mistress.”
Peter wanted him to shut up, so he stepped back, hiking his skirt up to tug off his boxer briefs and stockings, overly aware of John watching him. He separated the garments, balling the underwear up in his fist. “Open your mouth. Now.”
John’s mouth dropped open, his eyes rolled back once more at the taste of Peter’s fabric being stuffed inside. Surreptitiously, Peter tucked his skirt between his thighs to add another layer of barrier between his own exposure and John as he half-straddled the man’s lap. He hooked his finger through John’s neck tie and undid it, forcing his shaking hands to steady so tying the accessory around John’s eyes wouldn’t be sloppy. He leaned down until he was cheek to cheek with John.
“I’m going to make the next few hours worth every cent, my filthy little slut.” Oh, how Peter was glad John couldn’t see his face twist with self-degrading disgust. He sent out an apology to all the stars of his old favorite stag films for failing them. “Let me get the lube warmed up and the condom ready, then you can make me cum as many times as you can before I even let you.”
He swung his leg back over John, leaving the bastard shivering with glee as he backed away from the bed.
The timer was set.
Peter skipped over to the pants, crouching and digging out the wallet he felt in the back pocket. He pulled out the pink wads of kronor and shoved it in his pocket. He stared at the corners of the credit cards poking out of their sleeves, and looked towards the panting, writhing mess on the bed.
You can clear out my bank account.
But he shook his head clear of the temptation and stood up, returning to the bedside; might as well minimize the potential jail time as much as possible. With great care, Peter picked up the watch and ring and placed them in the pocket so they wouldn’t clink. He stared at his client, taking a deep, quiet breath.
And finally: insurance.
He hooked his fingers in John’s waistband, his face twisting up once more. Do it like a band-aid... like a band-aid... Pursing his lips against the rising bile, squeezing his eyes shut and turning his face away, Peter whipped the underwear down. He filled his lungs again, holding it in as he cracked an eyelid open and pulled his phone out.
It’s the same equipment that you have, Peter. The reminder did next to nothing to help quell the screech as his eyes met the swollen and stiff member, uncomfortably pink against the pallor of John’s legs, oozing precum.
“Holy fucking shit,” Peter cringed. He tapped on the camera, made sure that the shutter feature and the flash were both off, and aimed at the sad view that made his skin crawled. He bent down to plant a couple more kisses along John’s calf. It was an odd place to show affection to, but as long as John thought it was still leading to something, and Peter didn’t have to touch his genitals, it would do. He rose from the bed and swiped the leather jacket, draping it over his arm and picking up his own jacket and boots.
In the next breath, Peter was out the door, feeling the coldness within him snap and fall into pieces when it clicked closed behind him.
He did it.
He turned and walked off, leaving behind the muffled noise from John as it turned from confusion to protestation to outright fury, but growing ever softer as Peter legged it. His free hand patted the bulge in his dress pocket as he rounded the corner, and the shakes returned, making the air coming into his lungs shallow, making his skin prickle and his vision tunnel and sway.
When something pushed up his throat, Peter feared it was vomit, or a scream, or a cry. It definitely had to be a cry, as the sensation of John’s dick between his legs burned all over. But it was a laugh. He laughed. Because it shouldn’t have been that easy, but he did it! And --
He stumbled to the nearest trash can, knocking the top off and emptying his stomach in the refuse.
When it was over and Peter came up for air, he wiped his mouth and looked around, feeling so separated from this plane. This called for a celebration.
He rummaged through his jacket pocket, the cashmere one he came in, and pulled out the shades. Then he clipped on the watch and pulled out the wad of cash, setting the jackets and boots down on the floor next to his feet. Raising the phone up, he tilted his head and stuck his little tongue out.
#life thus far ( story )#droid noodles ( writing )#ain't safe for lookin'#er...#long post#vomit tw#ask me to tag because uuuh#sinday#alcoholism tw#e-boy
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
Pay it Forward Chapter three: Cakes
Lewis crouches down, his gaze glued to the oven as he watches the batter slowly rise. It was a rather small cake, but it would have to do. Considering it was such a short amount of time from when Arthur would supposedly arrive. And even more stressing- he didn't know what other ingredients his parents needed for his party tomorrow.
On top of all of that, the girls would be home soon, and he wanted nothing more than to spend some time with them. They had tried to stay up a few nights due to him miscalculating when he would have arrived home, just to see him when he got home! They deserved to have more attention directed to them specifically.
Coincidentally, just as quickly as the thought came, Lewis had glanced up and peered through the connected living room, through the window, allowing him to notice the familiar shape of the car. A smile stretching across his face, Lewis slips out of the kitchen and makes his way to the back door. He waited a few seconds, attempting to hide behind the small door. Just a little longer. Make the surprise all that more sweeter.
And he flung the door open.
A gasp, “Lewis!!” Paprika’s bubbly voice is the first one he hears, and he ducks down and steps out- nearly smacking Cayenne who had been positioned at the door.
He quickly snatched her up too, “Lew-!” Cayenne half screeched. Wriggling her tiny body to slip away from him, but it was already too late, A choked whine being squeezed out of her as Lewis hugged her tightly. Only compress more as Paprika scrambled up the steps and leapt into his arms. Singing a cacophony of Lew-lew that made his heart soar.
“Ack! Let go!!” Small hands press to his cheek, Belonging to the one and only Cayenne. Who Lewis loosened his grip for, allowing her to wriggle out.
She glares at his happy grin, and then lightly bonks his forehead.
“Ow, I missed you too.” Lewis laughed, standing to his full height- with Paprika snuggled against his shoulder- earning the shortest snort.
Cayenne didn’t care, grumbling a small, “Yeah yeah,” walking away from him, yet making a note to toss a quick, “how was your crash?” over her shoulder.
“Crash?” Paprika pushes herself away from her hug, eyes popping out of her skull. Eyebrows furrowed, Lewis cursed his little sister and opened his mouth to comfort her,
“About th-”
“It's alright, Paprika,” Mama interjects, a hand stroking the little girls hair, “Lewis is safe, otherwise he wouldn’t be here to hug you right now.”
Her mouth was still set with a deep frown, interestingly looking from Mama to him, before reluctantly laying her head on his shoulder. Placing a kiss on her forehead, Lewis whispered, “Hey, I’m making some cake right now, but I haven't been able to start the frosting. Would you like to help me do that?” He asks, piquing her interest immediately.
“Can I?”
“Of course,” Lewis laughs, holding open the door for Mama and following her soon after, tickling Paprika into hysterics, “You know I always need the sweetest girls opinion on my frosting! How else will I know if they’re up to standard?”
She bursts into giggles as he pokes her sides, flailing her tiny arms and attempting to wriggle them out of her backpack straps. “Wait-!! Let me-” She squeals, and Lewis swiftly plants her on her feet, whisking the backpack off her back.
“Make sure to take off your shoes,” Lewis says, dropping the backpack onto the couch next to Belle, “Then meet me in the kitchen after you wash your hands.” She skitters off to the back door, shouting a small response as Lewis finds himself waltzing back to the kitchen. Crouching down, he eyes the batter, and the checks the timer. With an even bigger smile, he fishes for a toothpick to check its consistency.
If it's ready soon, I can let it cool for a while as we make frosting, and then soon after it’ll be in the best shape for decorating! Lewis nearly fist bumps over the achievement. However, small footsteps clatter over, Paprika leaping to hug his leg and bouncing on her heels.
She gives him a giant grin, “Let's start!!”
Humming a small tune, Lewis ruffles his thick fingers through her curly hair, “Alright, now let’s not get ahead of ourselves. First, I need some butter, powdered sugar, and milk. Can you grab that-...” He trails off, eyebrows raised with amusement as Paprika bounces away from him to the fridge, yanking it open loud enough that Belle noticeably flinches from the living room. Hearing her call out, Lewis leans out to dismiss her worries. Then, hearing a small gasp.
“Lewis!” Paprika’s voice strains, he peers over just in time to see her scaling the inside of the refrigerator, holding one of the drawers as it dangerously slides out—
Nearly diving, Lewis snags her by her arms and shuts the drawer with one fell swoop. He frowns, “Pap’, you gotta be more careful.”
She curls his knees up by a mere fraction, clutching the milk jug close to her chest and whining, “I’m sorry..”
“It’s alright,” he said, setting her down and grabbing the butter and milk from her hands and places them delicately on the surface. Before he turns back to her and crouches down, “Wanna help me grab the vanilla and powdered sugar?”
Eyes lighting up, she nods quickly, grinning ear to ear and turning around. Just on cue for Lewis to swoop her up and get her settled on his shoulders- crouching of course, even more so that usual to ensure she didn’t bump her head. They open the cabinet, Paprika pointing out the bag of sugar and the small bottle of vanilla extract, and finally she was put down. Skipping, she pulls out a large bowl from the bottom shelves and struggles to squeeze it into the more cluttered space.
“Fetch your stool, Pap, I don’t want you falling again.”
“Okay!” And with that, she darts off, leaving Lewis with ample time to mix in the butter and sugar, and prepare the milk and extract for Paprika to add. He wouldn’t have noticed her returning if she didn’t let out a small sing- song laugh, “Lewis?”
“Yes, Reinita?”
Paprika lightly kicks the floor, “Can we make some pink frosting? I wanna put some hearts for uncle Arthur!”
Lewis halts his stirring, turning around to face her, “Uncle..?”
Bouncing on her heels, she gives him a full smile, “Yeah! Mamá told us you were making a cake for him! I wanna add something too!”
Eyebrows furrowed, Lewis stares down at the little girl with dumbfoundment etched into his face. An expression Paprika quickly picked up on and flinches away, frowning.
“Or not..”
“No, no,” Lewis clears his throat, face flushed, “how... Do you know Arthur?” He asks, feeling that was the safest route to go down with his tiny sister, to gauge just what she knows. Face lighting up in the usual shy and bashful way, Paprika mumbles out-
“Mamá y papá needed a baby sister while you were away at school, Arthur has been looking over us a lot.” The more and more she talked about him, the brighter she became, “He even lets me help him with the cars!”
Lewis, still at a loss for words, nods his head and forces a small smile, “Is.. that so? Do you plan to become a mechanic one day?”
“Yeah! I think it would be really fun! Arthur taught me how to change oil and batteries and even how to use a tire!” Use a tire? She must have meant that she knows how to fix them, Lewis thought, humming to himself as he pictures the situation, stomach dropping at he imagines it being a seriously dangerous place..
Shaking his head lightly, Lewis snags to stool and sets it up, “You should have told me, you and I could have fixed up our car even faster.”
“You think so?”
“I know so!” Lewis hums, scooping her up in his arms and plopping her in her place, “now, can you help me with this?”
“Here,” Lewis says, holding up a spoon, coated in a thick glob of white sugary frosting. Paprika shimmies close and wipes a small bit onto her finger, tasting in and humming with delight.
She beams, “It's really good! Arthur will like it a lot!” Sticking out her hand, Lewis lightly high-fives her.
“I’m glad to here, I’m sure he’d be happy to know that you helped me!” He presses his fingers against her ribs and watches as she giggles and squirms, “Now.. what do we need now? To make the frosting pretty colors?”
Pausing to think, she glances around the kitchen and lands on the covers.
“Four bowls, and… food coloring.”
Lewis marches over, a tad bit more dramatic and performative so that way she would giggle and laugh some more- to which he succeeded.
“What colors do I need to grab?” He asks, fingers already grazing across the five or four… Should it be simple or more decorative-?
“Uh… pink, orange, er… green? Oh! And yellow!”
Green? Hm, that would be interesting, “Where’s the green coming from?”
“Green for grass! We could go green grass along to bottom and then… tires? For cars!” She exclaims, and Lewis smiles a small bit, snagging the black and gray color dye as well.
“Clever, I think he’ll be fond of that, don’t ya think?”
“Yes yes!”
Soon enough, the four different colors were ready. Paprika and him spent over thirty minutes frosting and decorating the cake. She added the hearts she wanted and some sloppy tires bouncing along the sides, and Lewis puts a cursive ‘thank you’ along the top, along with a wrench design around it. Then along the top Paprika and him both dot it with the orange frosting. Making it resemble a childish tower more than anything else.
Upon completion, Lewis let’s out a soft sigh, ruffling Paprika’s hair, “Nice work, Reinita. Let’s go wash our hands and let Papa prepare dinner.” She nods in agreement and leaps off her stool, to which Lewis takes and shuffles out of the way of his Papa, putting it away before grabbing the cakes tray and placing it on the top shelf of the fridge.
Quietly, he murmurs to himself, “I hope he likes it..”
“I’m sure he will,” his father's unusually upbeat voice makes him flinch, and he glances over to him.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to… I don’t know..” he trailed off, still unsure of how to handle this situation and this peculiar man, he couldn’t wrap his head around it. Receiving a quick and light pat on his back.
Papa smiles up at him, “It’s alright, everything will be okay. You have nothing to worry about right now. It’s only four right now, you why don’t you go and relax for a little while. I’ll call you when he gets here and then you two can talk it out.
He would rather he not show up at all, but if you insist.. Lewis nodded obediently, side stepping his way out of the kitchen and down the hall to his room.
It’ll be no good to talk to him if he’s not well rested, Lewis figures. Slipping into his room, he changes out of his binder into a sports bra, and lays himself across his pillows and blankets. Peering out of the window into the cool summer air, a light breeze flowing in. His exhaustion finally catches up to him.
When he opened his eyes, there were streaks of yellows, pinks and reds lining the sky. Blinking rapidly, Lewis pushes himself up, gazing out and seeing the sun was beginning to set. Blinking harder- as if it would help him focus and recollect his thoughts- he whips his head over to the clock and spots the red dotted outline of - 6:57?! Since when-!!
Shoving himself even more, and ignoring the acute sharp pains in his back and arms from suddenly jostling his body, he brings himself to his feet and slips them hurriedly into his slippers. Rushing out of the room as one thought spiraled after another. All of which, equally ridiculous and somewhat dumb, all revolving around that one dumb mechanic who’s had him in stitches all day!
Popping into the living room, the first thing Lewis noticed was that Cayenne was on her phone instead of reading the book in her lap on the couch. Paprika was playing with her dolls and half paying attention to the ‘How It’s Made’ show displaying on the Tv. And Belle was nowhere to be seen.
Except, he finally noticed her through the side- window, carrying something from a low rumbling van parked beside the house and…
Whose… whose van was that? The garish orange reminding him of-
The back door opens, and he turns back just in time to see Belle shuffle in with a giant bag, and Arthur holding the door open with his own bags.
“Easy..”
“I got it, Arthur!” She spats back at him, glaring under her fuzzy hair, “I’ll go put these in Lew’s room, you shove your stuff in the living room.” Arthur nods, hobbling in after her, and his eyes rise to meet Lewis’s, Belle went on, “Be quiet, though, Lew’s taking a nap and he doesn’t know you’re staying the night. It’s a surprise.” She hisses through her teeth, dramatically shushing the much taller mechanic, who suppressed a chuckle and let his gaze fall back to Belle.
“Wanna bet?” He says, grinning mischievously, and he shoots Lewis a look to have him play along.
“Bet what?”
“That he knows I’m here, of course!” He’s grinning, and Lewis takes a step to the side and out of view, half tempted to duck into the bathroom and escape that way. Wait- why is he even -
“Hm… no deal.”
“What? You wound me!”
“You’re too sneaky! I can’t trust anything you do.” Belle is now moving down the hall and toward where Lewis was, the crinkling of her bag hardly doing a thing to help her sneak about.
“Well, I guess that’s your issue then, isn’t it? If you catch Lewis on your way out, let him know I’m here, Kay?” He says, walking a bit faster than Belle, and with a few quick strides, Arthur slips past the opening of the hall and sends Lewis a giant grin.
One which has his heart.. racing? What-!
Belle’s voice snaps him out of it, “Aw shit,” she slumps over, groaning slightly. And dodging the quick smack from Lewis as he realizes what she said.
“Ey, watch your mouth,” Lewis scolds, tongue tripping up as his gaze lingers on Arthur walking out of sight and rousing the attention of his other two sisters, “Mamá wouldn’t be pleased to hear you speaking the devil’s tongue.”
Groaning, she swipes his hand away before heaving up the giant bag of- was that Sailor Moon? “Who do you think I got it from? Mamá’s just as bad as the mechanics at the shop!” She tries slipping past him, and Lewis has half a mind to ask her what she was doing carrying it around but-
Kneeling down, and blocking her path much to Belle’s dismay, Lewis quickly whispers, “Why is he staying the night-?”
She grimaces, attempting to readjust her grip before Lewis takes it from her, getting more of a look- figurines? “Mama said you’d like having a friend over, so he came over.”
Far from enlightening, but he couldn’t get out a single question from his myriad before the lanky blond steps into view again. A half smile quirked over his face, and all of his words froze in his throat.
“What’s up, Lewis?” His eyes crinkle from how he smiles, hair bobbing the smallest bit, “I guess the cats out of the bag. Your mom and dad asked me to help out for tomorrow's party, and they wanted me to stick around to keep you company tonight.” Such a light hearted attitude. His voice was the smallest bit gravely and… tired? It matched the shadows under his eyes and-
Finally, Lewis manages to choke out, “-I made you a cake.”
Arthur blinks, sputtering into a light laugh, “What for-?”
“As thank you,” gaze darting from the living room and back to Arthur, his mind going in circles, it suddenly occurred to him how dumb he felt holding the bag- a present? Come ON- so close to his chest. There’s a lump in his throat that he couldn’t wallow back before he spins on his heels and dumps the crinkly bag on his bed and nearly runs Arthur down trying to slip past him.
Arthur snags his shirt and trails after him. An action which should really be making him pause and question why he felt it was okay. If not for the fact that it felt… natural? However that worked, Lewis didn’t take the time to figure out. Instead he focuses on retrieving the cake and praying he doesn't accidentally throw it in Arthur's face.
“Its for the car-” he quickly explains, “I- I still don’t know how to feel about it but- I'm very grateful and-” His words clash and slide into one another, becoming a mess right before his very eyes. Even Arthur was having trouble keeping up! Heart shaped eyebrows quirking up and mouth twisted with confusion. Soon, finally Lewis presses his lips together and shoves the cake into Arthurs chest. Stilling as those amber eyes drop to the work.
Slowly, his quirked smile draws against his face as he takes in all of the details, “Lewis, you didn’t have to do anything for me..”
“I- I know, but-” Wait why did he sound like that- “I didn’t- it only seemed right to do something for you as well, I wasn’t- it's not every day that you just- have your car paid off by a stranger-”
Somehow, Lewis could tell that wasn’t the right thing to say. Arthurs eyebrows drop, smile faltering into something that didn’t look correct on him-
“ARTIE!”
Both men jump with surprise, turning back just in time to see Paprika leap from the ground and latching onto Arthurs arm. He responds surprisingly quick, passing the cake back to Lewis and lifting her up with ease, making a small comment on how heavy and big she is as he pulls her into a hug.
“Did you see the hearts-? Lewis let me add them-” She excitedly buzzes, not noticing the smallest hint of disappointment in Arthur's eyes before he grins back at her.
“Well they’re absolutely adorable! It really ties in the scene! I bet it tastes really good too..”
She nods, full of excitement, eyes lifting up to Lewis- who hardly found himself out of the sea of confusion he’s been casted into. “Lew, Lew, can we cut up the cake now?”
“I-.. why don’t you ask Arth- Artie? I’m sure he’d love to share if you say please…”
Almost immediately she was bombarding him with the same question.
Soon, the cake is cut. Three plates for the girls, and two for them, the rest of the cake re-wrapped and placed into the fridge because his parents didn’t want any.
The night went by both way too quickly and way too slow.
Lewis couldn’t make out how he felt about his… friend..
Much later, the blankets are set, and Lewis and Arthur are now left alone in the living room while the girls are ushered into bed.
Lewis honestly would have felt so much better had they been on the couch. There would be ample room, seats you generally don’t cross without your intentions being known. But the floor? That is free terrain. It’s colder down here so one would naturally assume that someone sitting close is for warmth and not-
“Lewis?” His eyes widen, choking as he draws his glass away from his lips and nearly dumping the wine down his shirt. How long has he been drinking-? This is ridiculous!
Anxiously pressing a hand to his mouth, Lewis forces the bitter alcohol down his throat and an even bigger smile- coming off as strained, “Yes?”
Arthur quirks his brow, “You okay, dude? You’ve been guzzling that ever since your ma’ broke out a bottle.”
…. He’s right about that… Lewis peers over at Arthurs glass and sees he has barely drank half of it. One quick inspection immediately proves that his entire glass is empty now.
Wow. Well, That's an interesting development. He ponders, getting up to refill the glass (which he hopefully wouldn’t drink more of..) and sitting back down just as quickly.
“...Sorry, Arthur. That was my fault.. uh.. please don’t pay too much mind to me.” His cheeks are warm.. goodness why is he so nervous?
If Arthur still had something else to say, he doesn’t start. Simply readjusting his legs and taking a long sip of his wine, quickly coming up to speed with Lewis. Coughing lightly when it finally catches up to him.
The silence is unnerving, and worsening by the second. Silent all for the screaming of his thoughts running in circles.
Saying something, something, “So, Arthur. That bag you brought..” where was he going with this? “Was- are those things for me?”
He snorts, slouching over, “Well it’s not like I’d get it for Paprika or like- Cayenne.”
“So you did get me a bunch of gifts..” He sighs, disliking the implication even more. Gaze shifting over to the cases of Sailor Moon mined by the Tv, the illumination reflecting nicely off the casing. High quality… Lewis gnaws on his lip.
“And if I did..?” Arthur's voice stuns him out of his spur, glancing back over to Arthur. The light casting sparkling rays over his hair, making him look radiant.
Stop it.
Arthur lets out an airy laugh, The coolness of the crackled window allows in a soft breeze, rustling his hair and making him all the more cooler as he droops over his own knee, “I’ve been trying to find you a bunch, so you can take it back with you.”
“To school?” The heartwarming sentiment is joined by a pesky lingering confusion, doubt… hovering around them like smoke from a candle. Smokey and like coffee..
“For your dorm room.”
“I’ll just have to…” a smile slowly crawls over his face, holding up his glass closer, the aroma filling his head with a tingly feeling, or perhaps his gulping was finally getting to him, “I’ll just have to make more cake for you.”
An elbow hits his side, jolting electricity through his nerves, and the action has him fumbling and nearly spilling his drink again. “Hey, I wouldn't mind that,” Arthur says, his quirky smile back- reminding Lewis that he probably didn’t mean to startle him so much. Nor did he notice, unless that's what his chuckling was for, “I’ve always loved the things you make- although if you do, you should use more of your usual spices.”
“Huh?” The world fogs and smears into a single blur of color when he turns his head. Eyes landing on the blond locks. Lewis’s throat dries, and he swallows and tries to focus even more on him.
Arthur’s a lot touchier now.. “It was kinda- ya’know- uh- don’ take this the wrong way, but it was kinda- bland with how standard it was. Delicious as it was.” Part of Lewis informs him that he should be offended, but the coffee scent surrounds his head again, and he doesn’t think to mind it. Arthur shivers, snatching the blanket and twisting it around his shoulders, “I like the spiciness of your stuff, it's like your parents but- you.”
Blinking slowly- when did his eyelids become so heavy?- Lewis hums, his voice rolling against his vocal chords, “You probably are- I haven’t been cooking in a while, I still haven’t been back for more than a day, so-”
“Nah,” Arthur interrupts him, spinning on his rear end and crossing his legs, eyes pinned to him, “I'm talking about you. Hell, even your chocolatey stuff is- well- spicy.. Uh- its like- jokohilo-”
“Jolokia,” Lewis sips his wine expectantly, eyes glazed over, “I didn’t think you .. didn’t peg you for someone who liked ghost peppers..”
“It's an acquired taste,” Arthur says, tilting his head- or swaying, or Lewis was swaying. He pressed himself against the couch to stop that, “Usually I can't handle the stuff- any spices really, even peppermint is hot for me- but you.. I don't know, you make it in a way that's so… balanced!” Arthur scoots forward, bumping their legs together. When.. when did he get so close? Lewis straightens up, mouth falling open as he finally realizes just how close he now is. His shaggy hair falling to the side, and his jaw is rough with aftershave. Prickly- Arthur's face looked unnaturally red, almost feverish, breath coming out heavily.
He looked … glossy- no, determined, in how his bushy eyebrows angle together. A shudder rustles down his back, the coolness of the window is way too cold now.
“Ar-arthur?”
“Lewis,” despite the tinge of red in Arthurs cheeks, he sounded clear, “dont-.. I’m not.. Trying to be weird or anything.”
“Yes?” his teeth clink together roughly.
“Mind if I-- c-can I kiss you..?”
Lewis froze in his place, eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed. His voice and thoughts ran into the ground in a jumble, the only thing coming out was the small rasps of his breath.
And that was enough.
Arthur gulps back noisily, nodding without even really moving as he lifts himself off the ground and shoving himself away. Twisting himself and the blanket and facing the screen again, looking- sad? Blank or angry or- “Sorry ‘bout that, Lew. Just- .. forget about it.”
His throat is tight and lumpy. Scrambling thoughts clash and squish together. Stinging almost. Lewis’s heart refused to stop thumping.
Lewis couldn’t remember falling asleep, but very quickly he was aware of the light shining through his eyelids and making his mind buzz to life. Finally, his eyes flutter open, and sore muscles slowly stretch out and squash against the couch. The bright rays of the sun shine into his eyes. The serene scene of wind rustling trees finally filling his ears and reminding him that he wasn’t the only one in the house. With the blast of a videogame gun jolting him awake.
He twists his head, noting the messy and disheveled bed head of Cayenne right in front of him. Blinking harshly, he lifts up his hand and ruffles the red hair. Earning him a short hiss.
“Ey’ quit it!”
“Go brush your hair,” He hums, a yawn sneaking up his throat and making his shoulders shudder and shake. Squinting against the light, he glares over the room, with the second couch, several plants and flower pots positioned all over and shelves full of pictures of family.
None… of … Arthur?
He pushes himself up, glancing around the living room for any sign of him and peering into the kitchen. Honing his ears, he realizes the only other person awake is Cayenne tearing out her hair. Lewis snags her shirt and directs her to sit in front of him wordlessly, and as she plops down on his feet, he begins to comb through her locks. Finally pushing out the question, “Where.. Cayenne where’d Arth’ go?”
She’s pouting, but glares at him from under her thick mop, “He left an hour ago, didn’t you hear him?”
Blinking, he ignores the white flashing behind his vision and the small headache that pulsates behind his eyes. Before he grinds his palm against one, “Nah, I didn’t even realize he woke up..”
Twisting back, she sends him the most confused glare she could, dripped with annoyance “You were talking to him.”
“... I was..?”
The steam drifts and floats around him, clinging to the wall, his back and shower chair like a sheet, the feeling was more than comforting. Even more so when he slathers his face in soap for the upteenth time. Allowing it all to slip off his chin and drip into his lap. The rhythmic motion doing nothing to distract himself from what was truly on his mind.
His dumb spiky hair with odd stripes, how he somehow manages to be covered in hair yet remain so- cute? No, handsome, he definitely was a good looking fellow- Lewis slaps more soap against his cheeks, huffing.
And worst of all, he refused to get off his mind. The entire night they spent together was put on a repetitive loop, honing and focusing on that one very specific moment.
Humming- or growling- he grinds his teeth and shoves his face under the water stream. To the point where the warmth in his cheeks could have been the result of either the hot shower or the fact that Arthur seemed to be lighting a fire in his head just by existing. His thoughts seemed to revolve around him! Which didn’t make an inch of sense… but…
No. No, can’t be. Lewis isn’t like that. Lewis sternly reminds himself how inappropriate it is. Except, his shoulders falter, and no matter how many times he reminded himself that he should absolutely not be pining over this mechanic, all he would receive is an uncommitted wave of his thoughts hand as they drift back. Why that was a necessary part of the human psyche, he had no idea, and even more so Lewis was half tempted to write a strongly worded letter to himself.
He should call Vivi.
Yes, that would probably be best. Lewis sighs gently through his hands, water spraying to his knees. She always did have a habit of.. well, snapping him out of his ridiculous thinking. Turning off the faucet, Lewis slowly brings himself to stand up and snags his towel, dying off his hair and soon the rest of him. While he slowly slips on his fresh clothing, he plucks his phone off the counter, wipes off its steamed screen, and dials.
If he was lucky, she would be free. If he's not, then she's most likely sleeping, or doing something. Lewis glances at the phone screen, huffing slightly as he sees the minute shift to nine thirty. It's especially likely she was sleeping in still-
”Hello?”
Sighing, lips pulling with relief, “Hello, Vi’, I would hate to bother you right now, do you have a spare second?”
“Shoot. I got all of the seconds to spare.”
“Okay- er… Vivi, have you experienced- uh- love at first sight?” He asks, plopping onto the toilet seat and seating ahead of him expectantly, like she’ll pop out from the bathtub at any minute. Never mind how foolish he felt even asking it,
“Oh ya’, absolutely,” Vivi’s voice is suddenly muffled- eating? Oh, of course she was, she loved eating- “Of course like.. Not an actual person, just food and shit. But- I have. Why?”
Gulping back anxiously, Lewis fiddles with the hem of his shirt, “Don’t laugh-”
Immediately a choked snort ruptures his thoughts, ”No way, don’t tell me- you’re kidding, Lew.”
Groaning miserably, Lewis sinks down, “Unfortunately, no.. im- I have no idea why!” That was a lie, “I met him just yesterday, yesterday and he’s the only one i’ve been thinking about all day and- how creepy is that?”
Moments pass, complete silence, only highlighting the ambient noise of- people speaking and silverware scraping against plates. Thus, reminding Lewis of the many times he caught her awake at six in the morning for the sheer desire of ‘people watching.’ Pah! And she said he was creepy…
Then, she burst out laughing.
“Should I just hang up now, Vi?” He finally asks, frowning tightly as he imagines how delighted she was by this news.
”No, please don’t, I think this is amazing. How can I be of service my dear amigo?”
“How do I make these feelings go away?”
Vivi chokes again, for a different reason if the nervousness meant anything, which, why would she? ”Wait what-?” She sputters, frantically spitting out her words, making them all slide out in a slurred mess, ”Why’dont you want to- why do you wanna stop it?”
“Because!” He nearly shouts, the echo barking back at him and he holds his breath, continuing in a considerably softer tone, “Because, I don’t know him, and I- I don’t want to deal with my infatuations right now.. You know how I got with-”
”With Xavier? I mean- yeah? You were.. Heart broken, but-! That was him, but this is.. Arthur!” The way she said it made his heart skip another beat, “He’s a great dude and he’s really sweet, he’ll treat you extra right- it’ll blossom into a fantastic relationship!”
“... I wish I could think like that, Vivi.. but I-... I upset him last night..” Why did he mention that? The last thing he wanted to do was bring up… that… “I feel like I would only upset him more, since I still have no real idea of how to process these feelings..”
Vivi goes silent again, except for her small chattering, making him sure that she was alone. That was a solitaire Vivi habit if he ever saw one. ”Well.. I mean.. try? Hit him up in a little bit, ask him out. Or- even better- ask him out to dinner! I’m sure he would be over the moon! Heck- make him something to eat, he’ll be head over heels!” She chuckles and giggles as she does so.
“I don’t think he would like that- I mean- I-”
”You think an awful lot, Lew,” Vivi retorts, confident in her voice as Lewis shrinks, resisting the urge to bite his fingernails.
“.. Alright, fine.. I’ll.. call him and ask him out for dinner, but I seriously doubt it-”
”If he rejects you, my phone will be ready and I'll be over in ten minutes for you to cry on my shoulder.”
“... Okay, thank you Vivi.. I will.”
”Alrighty~ Bye bye, Lew lew! I love you~!”
“I love you too, Vi-vi, good bye.”
”Bye.”
She hangs up, leaving Lewis all alone with his thoughts, and he anxiously pulls up the number that Arthur gave him yesterday.
He bites his lip, and presses the dial button. Waiting…
”Hey Lewis, what's up?”
#mystery skulls animated#msa#mystery skulls fanfic#Lewis pepper#Paprika pepper#belle pepper#Cayenne pepper#Arthur kingsmen#Lewthur#pay it forward#genderfluid lewis#trans lewis#my work#Eage fanfic#oh we gettin there#Lewis#u fuckin fool#u absolute baffoon#tw: drinking#drinking#alcohol#tw: alcohol#pining#pining to the fuckin HELLA
47 notes
·
View notes
Text
Every Rose Has It's Thorn Pt 10
Word Count 1,574
Day and night didn’t exist for me anymore, I’d grown accustomed to the fact. My room had no window, just the hue of fluorescent lights that would flicker on each time I drifted into an unsettled slumber. Dr. List was the only one to visit me, the door would creak open with anticipation each time he would enter; he was desperate to see how the punishments were affecting me on a day to day basis…or was it hour to hour?
Today was no different, my body ached with the need to stretch but the shackles stopped me from doing so. Over the weeks or months, I had been here I had been subjected to some tortures I hadn’t even read about in books or seen in movies. Each morning Dr. List would come in and take my blood, making polite conversation about how they were going to use me to take down their enemies, yet they continued to experiment with my powers. The lack of progress in their punishments gave me the impression he was bluffing.
“Good morning, Y/N,” Dr. List spoke softly as he pulled a seat over to the side of my bed. He clasped his hands together in his lap as his eyes studied me intently, “Or is it perhaps afternoon? Night? I suppose you don’t know, do you?” He teased causing my eyes to prick with the promise of tears.
“Oh come now, child, is it so terrible here? We keep you fed and hydrated, don’t we?”
“You also spend hours each day experimenting on me,” I coughed, my throat scraping to deliver each word.
“But we’re getting so much closer to finding a use for you, Y/N,” Dr. List smiled, “It was difficult at first but I think we can finally move onto the next stage in your rebirth.”
I frowned, the fear swelling in my stomach as I absorbed his words, “My rebirth?” Before he could give me an answer, the door opened and four gun-wielding agents entered. I watched as Dr. List signalled for them to remove the chains from the wall. Two of the agents grasped my arms and dragged me from the cell I’d grown so accustomed to. Reluctantly I found myself turning my head back to Dr. List as if he would change his mind.
The agents dragged be down the hallway, my feet kicking out behind me in an attempt to slow them – but it was no use. They halted at a large metal doorway and allowed Dr. List to step in front, he typed a code into the security pad and the doors slid open silently.
“She is far more spectacular than you led me to believe, Dr. List,” An accented voice echoed from the viewing room up above and my exhausted eyes fell upon the man standing behind the glass. He was dressed entirely in black, his head shaved and a monocle was resting against his right eye.
“Is this him?” I spluttered, “The boss you’re so eager to impress?” Dr. List smirked as he urged the agents to hook my chains against the wall. They locked me in place, the iron tugging at the raw skin of my wrists.
Dr. List breathed an impatient sigh as he moved towards me, “Strip her.” He ordered, his eyes momentarily glancing up to the man above. I fought against the agents as they ripped the thin gown from my frame until I stood naked and freezing against the wall. My legs trembled beneath me but the taut chains halted me from falling.
“The water, please,” Dr. List ordered, taking a step back as one of the agents grabbed an industrial hose from the wall behind him and pointed it directly towards me. My eyes locked onto Dr. List as he nodded for the second agent to pull the leaver. I barely had a chance to shield myself as the freezing water hit my bare skin with such weight I was sure I would be knocked back through the wall.
“Enough,” The man from above ordered, his voice distorted by the intercom. My entire body was numb as the last of the water dripped to the floor; I was almost too cold to think, I wanted so terribly to shout and curse but my teeth were chattering and my jaw so tense I could feel nothing but pain in my skull.
“Don’t be alarmed, Y/N,” Dr. List smiled as he moved forward, stopping just shy of a foot in front of me. “We’re merely ridding your last defences; we take no joy in this.”
“Bull…shit,” I spoke quietly through gritted teeth, each word constricted by the cold.
“Shall we begin Baron?” Dr. List asked, his gaze lifting.
“Please do, doctor,” The intercom buzzed with his words and I battled desperately with the need to cry. The room emptied within minutes and I was left alone, trembling and weak. Dr. List appeared next to the man in the viewing cell, a remote clasped in his hand and a look of excitement painted across his face.
“I do hope this works, Y/N,” Dr. List commented, “I’ve grown to enjoy your company.” He’d barely finished talking when his thumb pressed against the remote and a bright, blue hue consumed the entire lab.
************************
Rook paced the holding room impatiently, his hand rubbing over the lower portion of his face as he carefully considered his next words.
“Please don’t tell me you’re trying to come up with an intelligent way to tell me I have failed, brother,” Colson groaned, his head lolling back.
“Don’t speak,” Rook barked, “You haven’t earned the right to speak so freely.”
Colson rolled his eyes and glanced over to the door, “I told you everything I noticed about her whereabouts, my link with her is purely that – with her. It’s not as if I could go exploring her surroundings,” Colson paused as Slim entered, anger plastered across his face.
“How goddamn dumb do you think we are?” Slim cursed, leaning his frame against the table until he was practically nose to nose with Colson.
Colson’s eyebrows raised as he considered Slim’s words, “Please do correct me if I’m wrong but these people managed to take Y/N from an apparently secure location, correct? Your secure location,” He tutted “It seems to me the only dumb one in this room is you, the man who thought he could keep such a treasure a secret for all these years and face no consequences. It’ll be a miracle if she doesn’t come crashing in here and kill all of you the first chance she gets, that is of course if she’s not already dead herself.” Slim’s fist came crashing against Colson’s jaw with a force that would have knocked a mere mortal unconscious. Colson however, smirked at the violent outburst.
“She seemed to trust you,” Colson added with a laugh, “A treasure she may be but it appears she is also an idiot.”
“Deal with him,” Slim seethed as he turned on his heel and threw the door open with a heavy slam. Rook returned his gaze to Colson, a look of disappointment painted across his features. Colson’s eyes suddenly blurred, his expression changing from the usual smug façade – Rook furrowed his tired brow as he watched him, taking a cautious step closer.
“What is it?” Rook asked but Colson was struggling to concentrate. He shook his head and held a chained hand up to silence his brother. Moments past, the tension so thick in the air that Rook was fighting the urge to scream.
“Where is the sceptre?” Colson’s voice shattered the quiet.
Rook shook his head, “Really brother if you think I am going to inform you of the whereabouts of your enchanted weapon, you are sorely mistaken.”
Colson’s teeth ground into his bottom lip as he fought against the desire to lash out at Rook, “I’m not asking for my benefit, as complex as that is for you to comprehend.” Rook scoffed, shaking his head.
“As much as I would like to retrieve my sceptre and kill you all, I ask because I have a feeling deep in the abyss of my gut that someone or something is using the sceptre right this second,” Colson continued, suddenly garnering Rook’s attention, “Perhaps if you track down my sceptre you’ll find the Fae,” His tone was so neutral, so dismissive, yet as Rook looked into his brothers blue eyes he noticed something else entirely – apprehension.
“Tell me brother,” Rook sat down in the opposite chair, his back arched as he leaned across the table so that he was face to face with the God of Mischief.
“Beneath your apparent apathy, do you care for Y/N?” The question lingered in the air between the two, Colson’s face never cracked – his eyes didn’t leave Rook’s.
“Is that what you think?” Colson eventually asked, his voice a low whisper.
Rook laughed sharply, air escaping his nostrils as he narrowed his eyes, “At first I couldn’t quite make sense of your situation, your sudden show of kindness if you will,” He paused momentarily, “But now brother, as I consider the look in your eyes with a mind clear of anger and betrayal…I can see something I did not believe still existed in your callous being.”
“And what is that?” Colson’s jaw clenched; the muscles taught beneath his pale skin.
“Love.”
#machine gun kelly#machine gun kelly x reader#machine gun kelly imagine#colson baker x reader#colson baker imagine#colson baker#fan fiction
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
THIS MEANS WAR (Daryl Dixon x Reader)
Summary: It’s been nearly two years since the war with the Saviours ended. You and Daryl now ran the Sanctuary together and for once life was starting to look good. However, little did you know, your whole world was going to come crashing down around you very soon and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Jesus’ Twin Sister!Reader
Word Count: 3.5k
Warnings: Blood, guts, language (just usual twd warnings) violence
Chapter 4-
"So, these assholes just get a free pass? Is that it?" Daryl questioned angrily, throwing his hands up in frustration and you sighed, rubbing your face with your hands.
You, Daryl, Rick and Carol had been having this conversation for nearly 10 minutes and you just seemed to be going around in circles.
"It's just a few more days. I don't like it either, but we're in a rush to get that work done. They're strong. The Saviours are over half the workforce, and we've had too many walk off already." Rick responded, referring to the Saviours who had just disappeared recently.
You had no idea why they seemed to be slowly disappearing one after the other, but you couldn't give two shits about it either. One less Saviour to worry about was all you could think about.
"Yeah. 'Cause that's who they are. Some of 'em ain't ever gonna fall in line, just 'cause ya say so." Daryl muttered as he paced the small area inside the tent while you turned back towards Rick and Carol who were standing near the meeting table.
"Daryl's right. These people have never had to live together. And we can't expect them to just forget what's happened." Carol added and you nodded in agreement.
"I know. It won't be, not for a while, but it's not about forgetting. It's about moving ahead, all of us, together. We keep doing that, they'll see we're all on the same side." Rick replied glancing between you and Carol as Daryl turned around facing the three of you.
"Are we, though? Are we on the same side, Rick?" Daryl questioned, staring at the other man.
"Well, you tell me."
"Thing is man, I've been tryin' to. But ya don't seem to wanna hear it." Daryl answered, his voice calmer as he stared at Rick for a few seconds before he walked out the tent. Well, that went well.
"Daryl." Rick called after him, but he didn't turn around as he continued walking off.
"I'll go talk to him." Carol says, glancing over at you and you nodded, watching as she walked out the tent before you turned back to Rick standing on the other side of the table.
"It's complicated. It's been different since Gregory, maybe since before that." Rick tried explaining, shaking his head and you knew he was stressing over everything.
"You should talk to him." You said softly nodding towards the door of the tent, but Rick shook his head.
"And say what?"
"Rick, you're my best friend and I love you like a brother, you know that. I get what you're trying to do here, it's the right thing. But maybe for some of them, they're just not ready for it." You said shrugging your shoulders as you stared at Rick.
You honestly had no idea if this whole thing with the Saviours would ever settle down, if everyone could one day live together in peace, but you weren't about to say that to him, he already had so much on his mind.
"I've been with you since the start, before we even met anyone else and you know I will stick with you through anything, but you gotta talk to Daryl. He thinks you're not listening to him anymore and I know you're not doing it on purpose, there's so much shit going on, but... just try and hear him out, please?"
"I know... I know." Rick sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as you gave him a small smile before walking out the tent.
You didn't know how to help Rick or Daryl at the moment, so you figured you'd might as well go to the logging site, at least there you could help.
Working at the logging site was quieter than working at the bridge. There were only a handful of you guys there cutting and stacking the large wooden logs. Most of them Saviours, but Aaron was there as well and gave you a friendly wave when you arrived.
You spotted Jed standing on top of the stacks of logs, a fresh bandage wrapped over his nose that Enid must have done for him and you smiled.
You tried to stay clear of Jed as you picked up a handsaw from the ground and began sawing away at the branches and twigs sticking off the logs, knowing you needed clean straight logs for the bridge.
Daryl eventually showed up and began sawing the logs with you. It was nice just the two of you working together, until Aaron called for your help with lifting another wooden log up on top the large stack of them.
Just as your were about to go and help him you saw Jed standing on top of the log pile that Aaron was talking about. Great this was going to fun.
"He hurts ya again, I'm gonna kill him." Daryl muttered glaring in Jed's direction as you rolled your eyes.
"I can take care of myself, I'll be back in a minute." You replied as you stuck your saw into the log so nobody could step on it before walking over to Aaron and another Saviour who were tying rope around the log they wanted to move.
"Can you climb up those logs with Jed? That way you two can pull the log up with the rope while we'll push from the bottom." Aaron instructed, but you didn't miss the small look he shot at you which meant 'don't start another fight'. You nodded and within seconds you were standing on top of the stack of logs beside Jed.
"On three. One. Two. Three." Aaron shouted as you began pulling at the rope like you had done a million times before with all the other stacks of logs. But, every time it shocked you with how heavy one log was, even with four of you trying to lift it.
"A herd's comin'! Bug out now!" Daryl's voice suddenly shouted and your eyes locked with Aarons for a split second, panic spread across the mans face.
"We nearly got it, keep going!" You yelled, knowing it would be quicker to get the log up onto the stack rather than slowly lowering it back down onto the ground.
Without warning, Jed suddenly let go of his rope, jumping down from the stack.
"No!" You screamed quickly wrapping the rope around your hand, trying to pull his end up as well, but you weren't strong enough as the log suddenly fell to the ground, taking you with it.
Sudden pain erupted through your head as your forehead slammed against the log when it hit the ground. You instantly felt blood dripping down between your eyes from the cut it caused.
Your vision turned blurry for a few seconds and you feared you were going to pass out before it quickly cleared and that's when you saw Aaron's arm pinned under the log as Daryl and the other Saviours tried lifting it off.
"Go! Get out of here!" You heard Aaron try to shout, but you shook your head. No way in hell were you going to leave him behind.
"Jed! Use the axe as a leaver while the rest of you push! I got the walkers." You yelled, stumbling to get to your feet as you pulled your machete out from your belt. You didn't miss the panicked look Daryl sent your way, but there was no time for discussion.
You ran towards the herd of walkers that were getting way to close to the men on the ground and started taking them out. There were too many walkers for you to take on alone, you knew that. But, you didn't have a choice. You needed to buy them as much time as possible to get Aaron free.
Walker after, after walker, after walker, you slashed with your machete, slicing through their rotten skulls before moving onto the next. Suddenly, you caught a glimpse of Rick and the others all running towards you and the herd. Thank God.
"We got this. Get him back to camp." Rick shouted as you glanced over your shoulder and you sighed with relief realising they had gotten Aaron free before you turned back to the walkers and continued taking them out.
You fought for what felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes before the last walker finally dropped as everyone scanned the area, making sure there weren't anymore.
"Everyone alright?" Rick questioned as you looked up for the first time realising how many people were actually here.
Rick, Carol, Ezekiel, Alden, Gabriel, Ann, Diane, Beatrice, Cyndie and many more all standing around the walkers bodies, everyone glancing at one another making sure nobody was bit.
"Shit, Y/N." Rick suddenly said, walking over to you in concern as he stared at the deep gash on your forehead along with all the now dry blood down the middle of your face, but you knew it probably looked worse than it was.
"That definitely needs stitches." Alden commented with a grimace as he walked over to the two of you, but you shook your head at the former Saviour.
"Enid needs to focus on helping Aaron, I'm fine. Lets start piling the bodies and burning them before the whole site starts to smell like rotten flesh." You responded, glancing around at the group of people who were now all staring at you before they all quickly got to work and began piling up the walkers.
You noticed Carol walk off back in the direction of camp, but you figured she was going to check on Daryl and Aaron.
"Y/N." Rick said softly, nodding his head for you to come over to him while the others moved the bodies. "One of the sirens didn't go off to redirect the herd, they weren't meant to come through here."
"Who was meant to sound the second siren?" You asked, knowing Jerry worked the first siren, but you weren't sure who had the job of the second siren, but by the look on Rick's face you could tell it was one of the Saviours.
"Justin. Carol has gone back to camp to speak to him now." Rick answered and you shook your head in disbelief. Of course it was his fault, you should have guessed that.
"We'll deal with it later, lets clear these walkers and call it a day?" Rick suggested grabbing your shoulder as you looked over at him with a nod before the two of you started helping the others.
-
By the time you got back to camp the sun was already setting. You stayed back at the lumber site, while Rick and most the others called it a night and went back to camp.
It was only you, Diane and Alden left as you finished burning the last pile of walkers before the three of you collected any axes and saws on the ground before making your way back to camp as well.
People were sitting out by multiple camp fires and inside tents as they all chatted happily amongst each other. You spotted a couple of the Saviours by the fires joining in as you walked along the outskirts of the camp, knowing it was quicker to get to the infirmary tent that way.
"You need to keep your dog on his leash." Justin yelled, spotting you walking past his tent, but you didn't bother to respond as you continued walking past.
"Hey! Your bitch of a boyfriend damn near killed me over nothing." He shouted as he followed you before you suddenly stopped and turned around, noticing fresh stitches over his cheek bone and you knew Daryl must have punched him again.
"Over nothing? You had one fucking job! And now people are hurt because of you! Daryl had every right to punch you. He should have hit you harder to try knock some sense into that tiny brain of yours." You snapped, taking a step towards him in anger when suddenly Rick appeared.
"What's going on here?"
"Trying to tell this dumb bitch to keep her boyfriend in check. He nearly killed me over nothing!" Justin complained throwing his hands in the air in frustration as Rick's eyes glanced over you for a second before he turned back to Justin, walking over to him.
"I know you. See, I used to be a cop. And every Saturday night, I'd pick up some dipshit like you and have to listen to him run his mouth in the back of my car, every one of them trying to blame someone else for their own damn problems." Rick began saying before Justin cut him off.
"I don't need to listen to this."
"Wrong. You're gonna stand there and listen to every word." Rick stated as he took a step to the left, blocking the man from walking past as he stared at him. "Now, I gave you the benefit of the doubt. That is done. Now, you pack your shit and get out of here first thing in the morning. If I see your face again, stitches won't fix what I do to you." He threatened, pointing towards the other mans face before he shook his head.
"Wouldn't stay if you begged me. I'm not waiting till morning, either." He responded, already walking off in the other direction.
Finally, Rick was starting to listen to Daryl. Justin should have been dealt with a long time ago, but better late than never.
"You still haven't gone to the infirmary yet?" Rick asked taking in the dry blood still on your face.
"Was just about to head there now, heard anything about Aaron? Is he gonna be okay?" You asked worriedly as the two of you began walking towards the infirmary tent.
You hadn't see what injuries the man had gotten from the log, but you knew it wouldn't be good. If that log landed on his head, he would have been dead instantly.
"I don't know, all I know is that Enid had to amputate his arm." Rick answered and your eyes went wide with shock.
If only you were stronger, then you might have been able to hold the log up just a little bit longer giving him time to get out the way. But, you weren't and as soon as Jed let go you didn't stand a chance and now Aaron had lost an arm.
As the two of you walked into the infirmary your eyes instantly landed on the infirmary bed to find Aaron lying on top under a few blankets, his left arm amputated from the elbow down.
Daryl was sitting on a chair beside him while Enid stood by the door to the tent, watching over her patient. You could see Daryl staring at you in concern obviously having not seen the cut on your forehead when the whole thing went down, but you just nodded slightly indicating that you were alright as you walked over the bed.
"Well done. He's gonna be alright?" You heard Rick ask from behind you as you knelt down beside Aaron, your forearms resting on the edge of his bed. You could feel tears building up in your eyes as you took in how pale the man was.
"Yeah. If we can keep the wound from getting infected. But he's still in a lot of pain." Enid answered and you sighed with relief.
"He's still holdin' on though." Daryl commented as you felt Aaron move slightly on the bed.
"Damn right I am." He mumbled weakly, his eyes still closed as you smiled sadly before Daryl stood up from the chair beside you, allowing Rick to sit down.
"I'm so sorry this happened to you. We were all supposed to be working together. I thought we were." Rick began saying as Aaron opened his eyes weakly looking up at Rick.
"You couldn't have known." He replied and Rick sighed, shaking his head.
"I've been pushing everyone hard. I know I have. I put this project first and you paid the price." Rick continued, glancing down at you before focusing back on Aaron.
"It was worth it. When the dead started to rise... I thought I was seeing the end of everything. But you changed all that, Rick. It's not the end of the world anymore. It's the start of a whole new one. I'll always be glad I was here to be a part of that." Aaron responded, his voice still weak but he kept his eyes on the man next to him as Rick rested his hand on Aarons chest giving him a sad nod before he left the infirmary.
"In the morning I will take you back to Alexandria, get Sidiqi to make sure everything is okay and to get you some antibiotics so it doesn't get infected. I'll organise for one of the babysitters at Alexandria to help with Gracie and everything, so don't worry about her. Just get some rest alright? I'll be back in the morning." You explained quietly as Aaron gave you small smile.
"Thank you, Y/N." He mumbled and you nodded, standing up from the ground as you turned around towards Daryl and Enid who both nodded at you to come over to them.
"Sit down, I'll get this cleaned up. You should have came to me sooner, this is a nasty cut." Enid said softly, not wanting to wake Aaron who was now asleep again as Daryl rested his hand on your shoulder, placing a gentle kiss the side of your head.
Enid began cleaning and stitching the wound with stitching tap since it had stopped bleeding a while she didn't need to use actual stitches apparently. You just let her do whatever she thought needed to be done. You didn't know much about this stuff and you trusted the young girl.
That night you and Daryl stayed in the infirmary, not wanting Aaron to be alone as the two of you slept in the wooden chairs on the othersider of the room.
The next morning you and Rick took Aaron back to Alexandria. Rick wanted to head home for the day to spend time with Judith and Michonne and you made a promise to Aaron.
It felt weird riding through the front gates of Alexandria. You were sitting beside Rick in the horse cart while Aaron laid in the back of the cart, asleep again. You hadn't been inside the community since after the war and you felt a shiver run down your spin as you remembered Negan was inside the walls of this town.
You helped Rick take Aaron into the infirmary, letting Siddiq take a proper look at him and hooking him up to an IV drip.
The good news was that Enid did a good job with the amputation, but Siddiq wanted to keep him in the infirmary for the next few days just to make sure.
"Aunt Y/N!" A young girl suddenly called causing you to turn around in confusion, but when you spotted a young girl with beautiful long curly blonde hair running through the door to the infirmary you instantly knew who it was.
You dropped down on one knee holding your arms out as Judith jumped into your arms, pulling you into a tight hug.
"Oh my gosh, you have grown up so much, Jude!" You responded, tears threatening to spill from your eyes, your hand cradling the back of her head as you held the young girl to your chest.
"I love you so much." You whispered as the little girl pulled away from you slightly, her hands coming up to your face.
"Why are you crying?" She asked in confusion causing you to laugh softly as a few tears spilled from your eyes.
"It's been a difficult few days." You answered with a sad smile as she rubbed away the tears on your cheeks.
"Uncle Daryl wouldn't want you to be sad." Judith replied as she grabbed the corners of your mouth and pushed them up into a smile. She was too pure for this cruel world, Judith deserved so much better than this world.
"Come on, let's go find your mum and dad." You said after a few seconds grabbing the little girls hand as you walked out the infirmary in search of Rick or Michonne.
"There she is! Judith, don't run off without our permission." Michonne yelled as you turned around to find her and Rick walking over to you.
"Sorry, I found Aunt Y/N." She apologised staring up at you with big brown puppy dog eyes before looking over at her parents.
"I was just going to sort out a babysitter for Gracie while Aaron is out of action for a while and then I was going to head back to the camp." You informed looking back at Rick and Michonne.
"Don't worry about it, I've already got everything sorted. Aaron and Gracie will be well looked after." Michonne replied and you sighed with relief. You didn't want Aaron having to worry about Gracie while he was recovering, but you were glad Michonne was usually in Alexandria so she could keep an eye on everything. That was one less thing to worry about.
-
NEXT CHAPTER
-
A/N- Link in bio for Masterlist, I will reblog with my Daryl Dixon tag list, if you want to be added to the list just comment below.
Another chapter is up, sorry for the slight delay work has really just hit me and I’m looking forward to my 3 days off next week after my night shifts are finished (going camping at the beach with my family and I m so excited)
Anyway, I hope you all liked this chapter, I would love to hear your thoughts about it below. But until next time stay safe everyone and have a great day xx
#Daryl Dixon#Daryl Dixon x Reader#The Walking Dead#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl dixon imagine#the walking dead fanfiction#the walking dead imagine#twd#Norman Reedus#paul rovia
112 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
the-cat-with-the-emerald-tiara-1
The Cat with The Emerald Tiara
inestremo
Mortis Mortalis
kp8990
Untitled
sprogletoad
Untitled
aching-balls-6
Aching Balls