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hufflepuffhollander · 4 years

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off limits: tom holland one-shot

a/n | this is my submission for @chloecreatesfictions’ 1k writing challenge! i’ve never done the “brother’s best friend” trope and i def got a little too excited and carried away! real talk, this might be the cutest thing i’ve ever written

summary | as harrison osterfield’s younger sister, you’d always just seen his best friend tom as an annoying older brother. until, one day, you didn’t.

cw | tom x osterfield!reader. contains language, alcohol, recreational use of weeeed, teenage angst, sexual tension, fluff n’ stuff. 5k words.

For as long as you could remember, Tom Holland had been a stitch in your side that you could never get rid of.

Growing up as your older brother’s best friend, he was always at your house when you were children— and his favorite pastime when Harrison was boring him was to break into your room and mess with you, stealing your toys or running his hands across the piano keys when you were trying to practice in peace. No matter how many locks you put on your door just to keep Tom out, he was always able to pick them.

As you all got older, he grew to annoy you in a different way, blasting loud, grungy music through Harrison’s bedroom walls late at night or eating things out of the fridge that clearly had your name on them. Once he’d started to garner some attention as an actor, his ego skyrocketed, and somehow he became an even bigger nuisance. He dragged Harrison away from you and took him all over the world while you had to sit idly by and love your brother from a distance.

When Tom would come over now, he would talk of nothing but hollywood parties and getting drunk with the biggest a-listers when he knew you were listening. He would ignore you when he breezed past you in the hallway, and even had the audacity to go into your bedroom when you were out and smoke a blunt on your bed so your whole room smelled like a music festival when you got home; and worst of all, it was your weed.

It was sufficient to say you were Tom Holland’s least enthusiastic fan. And it was rather unfortunate, because you were a big stan of the MCU—and secretly loved getting high and watching and re-watching the spider-man movies the most. Okay, don’t make that face. They have a good storyline.

It was a regular Friday night, you were aimlessly scrolling through your phone while Harrison and Tom were getting ready to go pub hopping. Harrison always invited you, but you never took him up on his offer because you knew how flirty you got with alcohol in your system and wouldn’t dare feel that way around Tom. He was notorious for taking anything nice you said about him and rubbing it in your face for at least a week after.

“You know you secretly love me, babe.”

You hated when he called you babe, and he knew it. But since you’d both grown up, time had done you both a favor, and there was always an air of something you couldn’t quite place your finger on whenever you interacted...the pet name just made it more interesting.

“Hey, y/n, are you sure you don’t want to come out with us?” Harrison yelled from outside your bedroom door, and you peeked your head out to respond.

“Nah, it’s fine, Haz, go have fun. I have enough uni work to keep me busy.”

“It’s a Friday night, nerd.”

You stuck your tongue out at him and smiled. “Sorry I’m not a budding alcoholic like you, big bro.”

He laughed, blew you a kiss, and he and Tom were off.

Only about an hour later, you decided to take a break from studying and light up a joint, turning on your go-to movie for background noise- but were snapped out of your vibey trance when you heard the front door swing open, and your brother’s loud, drunk voice.

“W-why are we h-home, you div,” he slurred, as his heavy footsteps start to climb the stairs. After a long moment, you heard him collapse on his bed through your thin walls, still stammering out his words. “Thomas, I promise you, I am fineeee...”

“Mate, you’re sloshed. Go to bed.”

You decided to leave them be. This was a typical occurrence- one of the boys went too hard too early, and the other had to babysit until they made it home to pass out cold, usually on the bed, or the couch, or on a good day, the floor.

A few minutes passed while you hotboxed your room, feeling amazingly relaxed, until you saw your doorknob wriggling out of the corner of your eye. Your door was locked, so you ignored it. But the knob kept twisting and falling back in place, making the whole frame shake. After a long while of witnessing a ghost try to make its way into your room, you watched your lock turn slowly and click out of place, the door creaking opened to reveal Tom, swatting at the air when a cloud of smoke greeted him.

You snapped your laptop closed before he could hear his own voice flowing out of your speakers. “Tom, for the last time, stop picking my fucking lock!” You beamed your nearest pillow at him—which he caught before it struck him—and he threw it back, hitting you square in the face. Of course.

He flashed a cocky smile. “Why? It’s so easy.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m serious! I could’ve been naked or something!”

He just stood in the doorframe, giving you a once-over in your thin cotton t-shirt and yoga pants, and kept that smug expression locked on his face.

“Ew, Tom, you’re disgusting. Get out.”

He decidedly did not get out, instead closing the door behind him and hopping up next to you on your bed, the divot in your mattress leaving your bodies pressed much too close together. You were met with a strong whiff of his cologne and the gin he must’ve been drinking earlier. “I’ll take that,” he muttered as he lifted your joint out of your fingers and took a puff, sucking his breath in as his lungs filled.

Your stomach filled with a dull fire and you narrowed your eyes. “Do you mind?”

He turned to face you and blew a big puff of smoke directly into your face, the notorious smirk making its reappearance. “Not at all, thanks for asking though.”

You groaned aloud. “What are you doing in here?” he took another draw and handed you back what was rightfully yours, smoke dissipating from his mouth as he spoke.

“Haz is pissed and I’m bored.”

You relit the bud and inhaled for a long while, figuring you’d need to be pretty intoxicated to not smack him in the face if he tried to talk again. “Well, go be bored somewhere else. I was busy.”

He cocked an eyebrow at you and reached across your lap for your computer. “Doing what?”

Oh shit. “Dude, can you not-?!” you yelped, but he had swiped it too quickly out of your grasp, and opened it up to find himself paused on your screen. You laid back on your bed so he couldn’t see your cheeks now flushed with embarrassment and grabbed your lighter from your nightstand. It was going to be a long evening.

He leaned himself over to catch your eye and had the stupidest, most prideful look plastered across his face. “Gotcha.”

You punched him in the arm as he erupted into laughter—but the anger inside you had been dulled by the weed and replaced with a childlike silliness—and you started to giggle, too. You looked up into his eyes, pupils now wildly dilated and tinted red around the edges.

“Shut up, Tom, you’re high,” you said in between chuckles.

“Yeah? Well so are you!”

You poked fun at each other for a while, suddenly in a mutually fantastic mood. You knew in the back of your mind that none of this would be happening if you hadn’t gotten stoned together, but you enjoyed the warm company anyway.

“Well, you gotta finish it, don’t you?” he said, settling back down and fixating the computer on his lap so you could both see it.

“You really want to watch your own movie?”

“Doll, it’s my favorite thing to do.” he smiled at you.

“God, you’re the worst.” you felt some butterflies make an entrance in your chest that had never been there before.

He pressed play and cozied up on your bed, lying back against the wall with his arm lazily draped behind you. You pulled a blanket up onto your lap and had really no choice but to lean on him for support, neither of you admitting out loud that you were full on cuddling and not angry about it.

“Hey, aren’t you gonna share?” he whined, pulling at the corner of your blanket.

“Get your own,” you responded, internally high-fiving yourself for finally getting the chance to sass him back. Sure, you had your head comfortably resting on his shoulder, but that didn’t mean you were suddenly friends.

You let the movie play, the two of you blowing through the joint until it was a dwindling nub. The scene where Peter has his big kiss with MJ started, and you stifled a snigger as their lips met on the screen.

Tom had clear offense laced through his words. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you shrugged.

He sat up to look at you, eyebrows knit together in an angry pout. “Tell me.”

“I just...feel bad for Zendaya, that’s all.” you covered your mouth to keep from laughing, and his eyes rolled so far back into his head you were sure they’d be stuck that way forever.

“You’re such a brat,” he started, his ego finding its old place back in his voice. “I’m an amazing kisser. She told me herself.”

You looked away from him, taking a heavy exhale. “Yeah, whatever, dude.”

He sat even more upright and paused the movie, taking hold of your shoulder to make you turn to him. “What, you don’t believe me?”

You realized then how physically close you had gotten, as you could feel the syllables of his words in his breath hitting your face. He was doing that thing boys do, when they’re thinking about kissing you but don’t- their stares going back and forth between your lips and your eyes in a not so subtle way. It freaked you out to see him that close and personal, and you whispered back exactly what you knew would irk him the most.

“Nope.”

He moved his face impossibly closer to yours, and you felt his soft lips lightly brush over your own. You weren’t sure if this was real, or just a high hallucination, but you didn’t move away. This was entirely uncharted territory.

“Tooommmm!” you heard Harrison yell out from the other side of the wall. “Where are yooouuu?! I’m so thirsty!” Tom immediately jerked his head away from you and shook himself out of the moment. You brought your hand up to your cheek and shuddered at how hot it had become- your own body was betraying you.

“God, he’s gonna be the death of me,” Tom said, shoving himself off the bed and walking out of your room, glancing back at you for a moment and then closing the door behind him. Just like that, he was gone, and you were left trapped in your own psyche wondering what the hell had just happened.

Over the course of the next week, things has become exponentially weirder between you and Tom. He seemed to be spending much more time at your house than he normally did, even sleeping a few nights there instead of driving the five minutes back to be in his own bed. One unsuspecting morning, you knocked on your bathroom door, annoyed that it had been shut for such a long time.

“Haz, if you use up all the hot water again, I’m gonna kill you,” you said in between knocks. You were taken by surprise when it swung open, steam billowing out into the cool air.

“Whoops,” you heard a voice say, immediately realizing it wasn’t your brother. You took a step backward to see Tom emerge, wearing nothing but a towel loosely wrapped around his waist. His hair was damp and clinging to his forehead, and he looked like some glowing magazine model.

“Uh, sorry,” you stammered, accidentally inhaling the yummy smell of his soap and shampoo emanating off of his skin.

He noticed you eyeing him and a sly grin appeared as he rolled his bottom lip under his teeth. “Shower’s all yours, babe,” he said, bumping your shoulder with his own as he walked away. You were stuck in place and didn’t see him glancing back at you as he wandered down the hallway.

Another day after that, Tom and Harrison were looking for a certain record to play, but it was nowhere to be found. “It might be in y/n’s room,” Harrison said, sitting back in his lounge chair. “Wanna go grab it?”

Tom coughed. “Why do I have to get it?”

“Because I’m comfortable.”

Tom felt a mix of annoyance and nerves in his chest as he walked the short distance down the hallway to your room where the door was already cracked open. He invited himself in—excitement faltering a little when he saw you weren’t in your usual spot on your bed—and started to sift through your bookshelves.

You had been in the bathroom getting dressed after your shower, but realized you left your shirt in your closet- and seeing that Harrison’s bedroom door was still shut, you figured it was safe to run across the landing into your room without anyone seeing you. In just a bra and spandex shorts that left little to the imagination, you swiftly made your way across the hall and walked through your door that was still open a crack to see Tom kneeled down as he shuffled through your record collection.

He heard your small gasp when you entered to find him, and swiveled around to you standing only a few feet away from him in the least amount of clothing he’d ever seen on you. He abruptly stood up but didn’t move, eyes sparkling as they rolled down your body.

“What the fuck! Why are you always in my room?!” You were too shocked to think about finding something to cover yourself with, and put your hands over your face, trying not to die of embarrassment. Tom remained glued to his place on your carpet, clearly at a loss for words.

“Tom, can you leave please-”

“Right, yeah, okay, uh, bye-” he hurried out of your room, swinging the door almost shut but leaving just a crack so he could speak into it.

“...I like your shorts.”

“TOM!”

He chuckled and closed the door, and you slumped against the wall, still holding your head in your hands. What was this sudden hold he had over you? And why did you love the way that he was staring at you?

That night, you had a big paper to complete, and you were perched in your bed typing away as it got dark. In between two songs on your playlist, you heard the familiar jiggle of a doorknob. Looking up over your screen, you watched as the metal turned in its socket, and heard a soft “crushed it” as the lock undid itself. Your door opened steadily and slowly, a familiar face peeking in at you.

“Hi.”

“Oh sweet jesus,” you mumbled.

“You busy?”

“Clearly.”

“Cool.” Tom let himself into your room, shutting the door behind him and sauntering over to your bed, sitting down next to you, bouncing like a little kid and singing his words. “Whatcha doooin’?”

“Homework,” you said, continuing to type and trying your best to ignore the way the sound of his voice was waking up something electric inside of you. He leaned into your body to peer at your computer screen, pretending to be interested in whatever you were writing about. His elbow got in the way of your hands, and you had to stop typing.

“Thomas, is there something I can help you with?”

“Haz is asleep,” he said, resting his head on your shoulder like it hadn’t been a week since your almost-kiss and you hadn’t been actively avoiding bringing it up.

You felt jittery. “And?”

He gently pushed your hands away from the keyboard and closed your laptop shut, giving you a sheepish smile. “Wanna get high?”

Honestly, you did.

You turned on your lamp and turned off the overhead light, put on that record he finally found, lighting a candle and then another hand-rolled blunt. This time, Tom sat upright with you perpendicular to him, your legs swung over his lap. When he made a joke, he’d give your leg a little squeeze- and whether it was purposeful or not, you were filled with schoolgirl nerves every time it happened.

All the angsty barriers built up over years of a sibling-like rivalry had come down between the two of you as you smoked together; you suddenly found all of his bad jokes funny, and he couldn’t peel his eyes away from the cute way you scrunched your nose when you laughed. Every time you exchanged the blunt, you couldn’t help but think about how his lips had just been on it a moment before yours. The night came and went, and you ended up falling asleep wrapped in his arms as he dozed off with his chin pressed to your forehead.

You both woke up at the same time in the dead of night, unsure of how late it had gotten. Still nestled into each other, you exchanged sleepy glances and no words, taking a moment to realize the position you had put yourselves in.

Tom grazed your jawline with the back of his hand and lifted up your chin with his thumb. You let your eyes flutter shut and he kissed you in the dark for one long, everlasting moment. He pulled back from you hesitantly, leaving you breathless. Did that really just happen?

“We...we can’t,” he whispered, his words tinged with sadness.

Your heart broke for him just hearing his voice. “Why not?”

“You’re my best friend’s little sister, y/n.”

“And you’re my brother’s best friend. So what?” you were almost upset with yourself for being so vulnerable; so visibly pining after him.

“So, you’re off limits,” he said, resting his forehead against yours.

“Says who?”

That prompted Tom to meet your gaze again, and this time you took initiative, moving your face to his and taking his bottom lip in between yours. He took a sharp inhale as you kissed him and seemed to let all inhibition go as he put his arms around your back and pressed you into him hard, all of his pent up feelings for you suddenly flowing out of him. He kissed you in a needy, desperate kind of way, and you loved every second of it. You ran your fingers through his hair, traced his jawline, using your hands to feel every bit of him that you couldn’t before. The strangest part of it all was how natural it felt- like you had been practicing for this very moment all your lives.

Your record had stopped spinning a while ago, the room now filled with just the breathy noises of your kisses, your contented hums and his tiny mews when you bit his lips. You were both still barely lucid, and after countless minutes of nothing but innocent kisses, you were on the brink of falling asleep again, serotonin whisking you away into dreams. Tom sighed into you, and clasped his hand around yours.

“I have to go.”

“What? Why?” you felt your heart preeminently sink in your chest; like you should’ve known this was too good to last.

“I don’t want him to wake up and find us here,” he trailed off, staring down at your intertwined fingers fiddling together.

“So that’s it?” you tried to swallow back the sudden upwell of feelings inside you.

“No, no...” his eyes filled with some type of emotional strain you’d never seen. “I- I don’t want this to be it. But I don’t want things to get...messy.”

Unfortunately, you couldn’t blame him, because you understood.

“Can you come back tomorrow night?” you whispered, very not ready to let his spot next to you grow cold.

“I don’t know...”

You looked up at him doe-eyed, cooing. “Please?”

He nodded, looking away from you before he completely caved and stayed there forever. “I’ll come back.”

He pressed one last kiss onto your lips and slowly got up, reluctantly letting go of your hand as he left your room. “Goodnight, babe.”

Hearing him call you babe, finally free of demeaning sarcasm, made your heart soar.

“Goodnight, Tom.”

The door shut and you were left alone, the stillness of your room sticking out in sharp contrast with how quickly your heart was racing.

For the next few nights, Tom spent the evenings at your house with Harrison, waiting until he fell asleep to make his way next door to you. You’d smoke together, watch his movies—and in heated moments got a little handsy—but you never went past kissing, though you both desperately wanted to. It was too risky having your brother right next door; and you knew all too well how paper thin your walls were. But in those secretive hours after solar midnight, just being able to exist next to Tom and letting him hold you, you were the happiest you could ever remember being. The second night he left your room to let you sleep, he placed a light kiss on your forehead after he stood up that made the whole thing feel a little too...real.

The next day, you walked into the kitchen and found Harrison at the fridge. You were in a great mood for obvious reasons but couldn’t let it show. “Hey, got any fun plans today?”

He turned around after shoving a handful of grapes in his mouth. “Nope, got some admin stuff to do and gonna turn in early.”

“Oh, Tom isn’t coming over?”

“No, I told him to take a night off. He’s been smothering me, y’know?” he laughed and ate a few more grapes, but then turned to you, confused. “Since when do you care if he’s coming over?”

You swallowed, unsure of what to say. “Just want to know if I need to stay out of the way,” you faked a laugh and blinked hard, hoping he wasn’t paying too much attention to your facial expressions.

“Uh, alright then. You two are always so fuckin’ weird around each other.” He seemed to feel that was a good way to end your exchange and walked out of the kitchen, throwing a grape at you.

You rolled your eyes at your brother, but then felt the sadness bubble up upon registering that you weren’t going to see Tom tonight. But really, how long did you think you could keep this up? The feelings you were developing for him scared you, you didn’t know what to make of them; all you knew was that your days suddenly seemed much grayer without him.

Nighttime came around, and you couldn’t sleep, so you did the unthinkable and sent Tom a text. Your thumb shook as you hit send, knowing that there was now tangible evidence of the connection you’d developed, that it wasn’t just some invention of your mind.

hey, are you awake?

T: yeah, can’t sleep. you?

obviously, i just texted you.

T: shut it.

A minute passed...

T: got room for one more over there?

You smiled like an idiot at your phone.

maybe.

Less than 10 minutes later, you heard the familiar wriggle of your doorknob. You don’t know why you even bothered locking it anymore.

“Hey you,” he whispered, carefully shutting the door behind him.

“Tom, you know you could’ve just knocked and I would’ve let you in- you don’t have to keep picking the lock.”

“Old habits die hard.”

You chuckled and stood up to greet him at your door as he unexpectedly wrapped you in an amazingly tight hug. He rested his chin on top of your head and started to sway your bodies back and forth. You laid your head on his chest and said hello to his heartbeat.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it was almost hard to fall asleep without you,” he murmured, placing another one of those domestic kisses on your scalp.

“Well, now you don’t have to.” you smiled. He waddled you backwards to your bed and you sat down as your legs hit the bedframe, prompting Tom to fall onto you as you giggled into his body that was now covering your face.

“Okay, goodniiight,” he said, refusing to move. You poked at his sides making him jump, and he grabbed your waist and rolled you on top of him. You instinctively leaned down so your lips could clash together in the way you were so used to, trying hard to not confess that you’d completely fallen in love with him when you finally had the breath to speak. He pushed your hair to cascade to one side of his face, and nuzzled your nose with his own, closing his eyes and humming with a smile. “Mmm.”

“Hmm?”

“Just happy.”

You rested your sleepy head on his warm chest, and fell into a deep sleep, letting the steady drumming in his chest be a metronome to breathe to.

“Oh, shit. Shit shit shit.”

You woke up abruptly, the bright light of day blinding you as you tried to open your eyes to the string of expletives you’d just heard come from a familiar voice. Once you’d opened them, though, you wish you had kept them shut so you hadn’t seen who had spoken.

“Harrison?!”

He was standing in your room, peering at you with hands half covering his eyes when you realized that there was a sleeping Tom underneath you.

Your brother paced in a circle and exhaled loudly. “Tell me I’m not seeing what I’m seeing.”

You nudged Tom awake with your elbow and immediately rolled off of him, trying to hide the very obvious fact that you had slept together all night. You never let him stay the full night for this exact reason, but he had been so ridiculously happy holding you in his arms that he forgot to set an alarm to wake him at the crack of dawn and leave. You sat up straight in your bed, twisting your hair in your hands, bracing yourself for the inevitable tirade.

Tom picked his head up to see Harrison standing there with his arms crossed, and flopped his head back on the pillow. “Fuck. Hey, mate.” He tried to play it off like this was the most normal thing that could happen on a Thursday morning.

“Is this why you’re always such bumbling fools around one another? You’ve been, what, fucking each other when I’m not around?” Harrison looked like he wanted to throw up at the thought.

“Haz, no, it’s not like that,” you said, but he didn’t seem convinced. “It’s just been smoking together and cuddling, really, that’s it,” you were torn between wanting to console your brother and admitting to both him and Tom that this was more to you than that. But Tom already knew that, because it was for him, too.

Tom looked like a deer in headlights. “I’m so sorry, dude-”

Harrison walked out of the room, and the two of you were left sitting in your bed, worry filling your eyes. Only a moment later, your brother reappeared in the doorway.

“Look, you idiots, I don’t care that you’re snuggling off the clock—you’re my two favorite people in the world, and to see you together, honestly, it’s about damn time,” he started, making both your and Tom’s jaws fall slightly agape. You exchanged a knowing look. Wait, is he not mad? Wait, about damn time??

“But I wish you would’ve told me so we could all hang out together. I don’t appreciate the sneaking around.”

You cocked your head at him, sending him a loving gaze for always just wanting what’s best for you.

“I’m just mad you aren’t including me in your hotbox sessions, really.” He laughed and ran his hands through his hair, pulling his face back to make a wild expression.

All three of you started to chuckle out of sheer awkwardness and relief.

“Come here.” Harrison held his hands out and you both gave a mutual aww as you ran into your brother’s arms, squeezing him tight.

“I love you, big bro.”

“I know. Now I’m gonna get out of here before you start kissing in front of me, or worse,” he moaned, swiftly exiting your room. “This is gonna be the grossest thing I’ve ever seen...” you heard him say to himself as he left.

You turned to Tom, still shocked at how well that had gone considering what he was assuming would happen. You swallowed the butterflies that you’d welcomed as friends and stepped back to him still sitting on the bed, putting your arms around his neck.

“And you,” you started, swinging your legs over his lap to straddle him. “I have to confess something.”

Tom placed his hands back on your hips where they rightfully belonged and smiled at you. “I’m listening.”

“I don’t mind you calling me babe anymore.” you grinned at his face drop, obviously assuming that you were going to say something else.

“Oh, and why’s that?” he prodded.

You looked up and off to the side as you squeezed his shoulders. “Maybe because I’m just a tad bit in love with you,” you trailed off, stiff as a board at what he could possibly say next.

“Well, babe,” he put emphasis on the pet name, “That’s a relief, because I was worried I might be the only one falling here.”

You grabbed his face and kissed him, kneading his soft cheeks under your thumbs, whispering exactly what you knew would get him the most.

“Nope.”

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forthehpfanboys · 4 years

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Bloody Knuckles and Sunshine

Pair: Harry Potter x Reader; he/him.

Summary: Harry loved his ball of sunshine and will do anything, including throwing hands at a dude a head taller than him, to protect it from harm.

Warnings: Mention of the f slur, Fighting, fluffy tho, also small homophobiaaaa

Notes: I loved this, dang-it. Hufflepuff reader!

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

Harry put a finger to his lips, signaling to be quiet. He smirked when he saw your friend's eyes light up with mischief and silently agreed. He slowly inched forward, waiting until he was all but pressed against your back. He lunged forward, covering your eyes before whispering ‘guess who?’ in your ear.

He let out a laugh when you screamed successfully catching the attention of everyone in the dining hall. He pulled his hands away only to wrap them around your waist, watching how your face melted into a color to rival a strawberry. He laughed harder when you pulled your hood up to hide your blush.

“Harry, you jerk!” You squeaked out while your friends snickered into their hands. “That wasn’t funny!”

“Aw, I’m sorry, love. You’re right, I’m a big meanie.” He said between chuckles, kissing your hood covered cheek. He laughed louder when you slapped his arm. “How is my favorite ray of sunshine doing this evening?” Harry took any opportunity he could to see you blush and it was quite easy to do, especially with such a soft nickname that fit you perfectly. Seriously, you’re smile lit up entire rooms and Harry levied for it.

“Well, I was telling Cedric about this kneazle kit I found out by the bushes yesterday but now I wanna melt into the black lake and never come back.” You grumbled, slowly pulling your hood down when you were sure the attention and blush had faded. You smiled when Harry responded with a fake gasp of shock.

“And you didn’t tell me? After being your boyfriend for three months?”

“Three and a half-”

“That’s even worse!” Harry pouted at you, cheering internally when he managed to make you blush just the slightest.

Truth be told, you’d been dating the wonder boy for 3.5 months and it all started because you’d bumped into him one random day. You’d apologized so quietly and swiftly, he nearly missed your American accent. He told you it was alright and you ran off before he could get a name. He ended up seeing you later that day, during dinner at the dining hall. They did a quick welcome ceremony for you before sorting you with the hat. Harry was practically leaping for joy when you were put in Hufflepuff. He was just grateful at the time to not have to deal with another Slytherin who’d judge people for something as simple as blood status.

While you were quiet and shy and reserved and just overall the softest human Harry had ever met, he tried to talk to you whenever he could. He managed to break your shell a little bit each day, slowly spending more time with you and introducing you to his friends.

You’d study with Hermione and help her tutor the other two dorks in the group. You’d play wizard's chess with Ron where most games end in a tie, but ever so often you would beat him, as would he. Long story short, his friends love you and at this point, Harry was loving you too, just a little differently. He wanted to hold you at night and fall asleep in your arms. He wanted to bake your favorite cookies just to see you smile. He wanted to see your bright eyes reflect the stars so badly.

So one day he did it. He asked you on a date in the middle of one of your chess games with Ron, leading to Ron winning because you were far too distracted by the males request. You did end up saying yes though, which rocked his hard harder than anything else.

He took you to Hogsmeade, obviously. He showed you the shops, since this was the first time you’d been. He introduced you to the lovely world of Honeydukes and the Three Broomsticks. One date led to another, then another, then another, until it was literally a weekly thing. He saved Friday after school for you and only you. It was, actually, really cute.

At every month milestone of you two being official boyfriends, he’d try to do something immensely special. In the first month, he took you out on the quidditch brooms for a night ride out. You gazed at the sky together, watched the sun set and returned to cuddle in his arms in the common room of Gryffindor tower. Second month, the two of you went adventuring in the Forbidden Forest, with Hagrid low-key third wheeling to make sure you were safe, then a cute picnic by the Black Lake. This month, he’d snuck you into the Shrieking Shack just so you’d get scared and confide in him. It was terrifying, but he made up for it with snuggles and treats swiped from the kitchen after hours. You were excited to see what month four had coming.

“Oh, stop. You’re acting like a big baby.” You giggled out, leaning over to kiss his shoulder. You waved your friends off when they faked a few gags. “What brings ya over here, anyway?”

“What? I can’t see my ball of sunshine? I’m hurt, (Y/n)! You wound me!” Harry scoffed, placing a hand over his chest as if his heart had shattered like a mirror. He looked around at your friends when they all grew quiet. “..What?”

“You usually only come over here to tease him or because someone specific and blonde was staring at him from across the room.” Cedric spoke up, his eyebrows cocked up while Harry’s furrowed in confusion.

“What? Do I?” Harry turned to you, his eyes shining with worry. You bit down on your lip before slowly nodding your head. You spoke up quickly when he let out a pain filled groan.

“But that’s ok because I get to see you in herbology, potions and astronomy!” You waved your hands, trying to show it really wasn’t a big deal. It really wasn’t! You got to see him a lot and understood he couldn’t be with you 24/7 and that his friends wanted his attention too, so it was fine.

“I’ll do better.”

“What? Harry, no! Love, you’re fine!” You squeaked out, cupping his cheek gently. “Honestly, it’s ok.” You pulled your hand away when he swung one leg over the bench to straddle it next to you.

“Are you sure?” Harry stared into your eyes, basically scanning your soul for lies like a bar code. You nodded your head again, planting a soft kiss on his nose. “Ok..” He smiled, pulling you to him before planting his own peck against your lips.

He only pulled back when someone chose to shout a specific f slur across the room. The raven haired male didn’t hesitate to stand up. His eyes were scanning across the now quiet dining hall.

“Who said it?” Harry’s voice was not filled with sweetness. It was filled to the brim with venom and it only became more obvious when no one spoke up. “Oh, come on now! You weren’t scared to shout before! Don’t be shy now!”

Neither you nor Harry batted an eye when McLaggen stood up. The blonde bimbo had been anything but pleasant toward you when you made your relationship public.

“I’m just saying what we’re all thinking, Harry.” McLaggen’s cocky voice spoke up as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. Cormac’s cockiness faded when McGonagall began spouting about intolerable language in Hogwarts and how that word was one of the many students should know better than to say. While the Gryffindor headmaster was going off, Harry didn’t hesitate to walk around the table, despite your protests, and punch the bloke square in the jaw.

You jumped up from your seat just as Cormac’s behind hit the floor of the dining hall. Harry followed the bloke to the ground, deciding to bruise his ego and pretty face further. Upon order of McGonagall, the twins and Lee jumped up, separating Harry and McLaggen. Fred held Harry back while George and Jordan carried the idiot out of the hall.

Once Harry stropped squirming, Fred let go, allowing you to scurry over and grab his hands. You also dragged him out of the dining hall much to McGonagall’s disliking, but went in the opposite direction as the quidditch players. You took him to the courtyard, setting him down on a step before kneeling in front of him.

“Harry.” You spoke up, looking down at his right hands knuckles, that were covered in blood. “Come on, babe.” You whispered out, your heart cracking at the sight of your love hurt.

“I know..” Harry grumbled, his eyes also staring at the red liquid coming from his knuckles.

“So, why do you keep fighting? Words can sting just as much as a punch.” You spoke up, reaching into Harry’s robe and pulling his wand out of the pocket. You transfigured a handful of leaves into a roll of bandages before shoving the wand into Harry’s not bloody hand and started wrapping up his knuckles.

“Because you’re too soft on people.” Harry looked down at his knees, his hands coming to his sides to rest against the stone. He started drawing a pathetic portrait of the two of you sitting at some.. Beach? Maybe it was grass. Poor babe couldn’t draw that well.

“Hun, people have reasons behind the things they say and do..” You rested a hand against his shoulder. He looked up from his drawing in the dirt to gaze up at you, his eyes big and innocent even after a fight.

“I know..” He grumbled again. “But he deserved it this time, babe, you know he did. If it wasn’t me, it’d be Cedirc or Ron for Merlin’s sake.”

“I know..” You sat down next to the raven haired male, pulling him to your side and letting him lean his head against your shoulder. “I’m not mad, ya know? It.. It was nice.” You bit your lip. Harry knows that hesitation. His eyes snapped up to yours, noting the soft blush across your cheeks.

“Oh, really, sunshine? You like it when I play knight?” He wiggled his eyebrows, smirking a little when your soft pink cheeks turned brighter in hue.

“May-.. No, I’m not giving you a reason to keep getting bloody knuckles.” You shook your head, gazing across the courtyard.

“Oooh, you do like it when I play knight!”

“Harry, no.”

“Harry yes!”

“Harry, no!” You shouted, your voice slightly sterner. Harry wasn’t used to you being so stern or loud, it was kinda scary. “Do not get into more fights just to fluster me.” Your shy demeanor came back ten fold, causing him to smirk wider.

“Of course not! Why would I do that, sunshine?” Harry snickered, his arms wrapping around your waist and kissing the base of your neck. He wasn’t going to bring up every year he managed to find himself in literal life or death situations or the fact that he was most likely going to be defending you again.

“Because your Harry Potter and ‘I-Fight-Homophobs’ really should be your middle name.” You smiled, praying he didn’t notice how hot your body had gotten from the heat. He let out a final laugh, his lips planting a big kiss to your cheek. “Harry, seriously, though. No more fights. It’s scary.”

“No, I know! Whatever you say.”

“I’m serious!”

“No, I know!”

“Then where are you going?”

“To finish what I started! Just five minutes, sunshine. Just five, I promise!”

“Harry, no!”

#harry potter x male reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter #hp x male reader #hp imagine #cedric diggory #ron weasley #hermione granger #male reader #x male reader #Ronny Writes #fic #hp male fic #hp fic

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mandoinevarro · 4 years

Text

NO REFUNDS

Words: 5.1k :))

Rating: E, baby

Warnings: Smut (surprise surprise), bad words :0, masturbation, a biiiit of praise kink, face fucking, cumplay? let me know on the comments, etc. etc.

a/n: Happy Star Wars day!! The first few lines of this are an attempt at dumb comedy, but humor me a little and you’ll get a reward (smut) along the yellow-brick road

Finally, the lanky kid behind the counter stops air drumming with two chicken bones gnawed dry and trails his dopey eyes from the gloved fist on the table, up a bracer, and along a flexed arm, until they settle on the Mandalorian helmet staring him down and waiting for an answer. The employee removes the music bandeau from around his ears and settles it down, its noise so loud Mando can hear it from where it lays. The kid scratches the whiskers of facial hair growing patchy on his cheeks and thoughtfully nibbles on one of the bones, trying to figure out what one does when a client shows up.

“Uh, what?”

“I need to speak to the owner,” the Mandalorian repeats slowly.

“Oh, uh.” Mouth gaping like a fish too stupid to know it should fear hooks, the kid calmly turns his attention to the four walls of the hardware store, searching for guidance in the fluorescent signs hanging around the room and dictating the store’s rules like they’re ancient scriptures:

NO CHILDREN

WILL BUY STOLEN GOODS FOR LOWER PRICE

NO IMPS

NO REPUBLIC OFFICIALS

NO REFUNDS

NO APPOINTMENT, NO MEETING

“You, uh,” the kid continues, lingering on that last stanza and flicking open a dusty agenda that probably hasn’t been touched since the war ended, “you got an appointment, uh, sir?” He drags a greasy finger down the planner, squinting at nothing and pretending to read the page that Mando can clearly see is empty.

The bounty hunter sighs, holding on to the last reserves of patience that hang precariously on the cliff of his self-restraint, threatening to let go and leave him to his own anger. “No. But she’ll see me.” You better. You better fucking see him. “I was sold equipment here a few days ago, some of it faulty. I need to speak to her.”

The navigator. The fucking navigator. Of all the bunch of overpriced, black market scraps you’d somehow convinced the Mandalorian to buy from you last time, it just had to be the navigator. He still has his old blasters. Pumps are cheap. Even the deflector shields he could’ve done without for a couple of months. But the fucking navigator. The lack of droids on the Crest means that Mando relies solely on the navigator to set coordinates. Without it, he wouldn’t be able to find his way out of a system, let alone make hyperjumps. Even worse, the model is so old, its glitching isn’t recognized by the control panel, so he had to hover around the atmosphere of this damned planet for three days before figuring out what it was, throwing off his schedule and losing track of two bounties in the process. All because you sold him a damaged version of the one part he can’t do without.

But your gaping-mouthed kid worker seems too unused to visitors to really care about Mando’s request, too entertained nibbling on a bare bone and eyeing the costumer in front of him as a knowing smirk cracks his lips and he says, “I dig it.”

“You…you ‘dig it’? I don’t…”

“The whole, y’know.” He draws circles in the air with the bone, signaling the beskar armor while he wipes the sauce around his mouth with a sleeve. “The, uh, Mondolarian vibe you’ve got going on. Very retro, dude. I dig it.”

Mondo…? Bewilderment overshadows irritation for a second, and Mando focuses all his energy into searching the kid’s vacant eyes for a sign of intelligent life. “I…I am a Mandalorian.”

Fucking stars above, it’s never easy with you. If not your endless teasing, it’s the exorbitant prices, your unwillingness to compromise, or your scurrying around so he’s forced to play cat and mouse with you. Your latest impossible challenge for him to tackle is, apparently, getting a straight answer from the obtuse employee you must have handpicked from a catalogue of idiots to torture Mando. Maker, he’s surprised your store hasn’t gone bankrupt yet. He can’t imagine anyone else in the galaxy putting up with your whims. And he only does it because…well, because…

After dedicating a couple of seconds to crafting the perfect response for what appears to be his very first client, the kid muses, “Well, shit, what do I know.” He flashes a toothy smile as he rereads the dogmas on the walls. “Says nothing about Mondolarians here, but, uh—”

“—Look,” Mando bargains with your gatekeeper, trying to level the exasperation escaping the vocoder, “I only have one faulty part. Let me talk to the owner, and—”

“—Shit. I bet it was the microvalves.” Your staff of one hangs his tuff of hair in shame, swaying it limply from side to side, before staring straight at the visor apologetically. “My bad, dude, I’ve been trying to get them right, but I always fuck them up. It’s hard, y’know? Red with red, white with white. Why not red with white? Or—”

“—No. What? No. Listen to me. You sold me a busted—”

“—I sold you?” the kid scoffs, his eyes suddenly snapping wide and offended, ignoring Mando’s clenching fists, which usually make normal people cower. “Excuse me, mister Mondolarian sir, but I don’t, uh, don’t recall selling you shit, in fact—”

“—Not—not you personally, the store, look, just—”

“—in fact, I’ve never even met a Mondolarian before and you’ve, uh, no right—no right— to judge my microvalves that I worked hard on—”

“Let him in.” Your voice carries its usual amusement as it cuts between the Mandalorian and the kid, breaking off the bickering from both ends and drawing their attention to the melody’s source. You lean on the doorframe leading to your workshop, holding a pair of pliers in one hand and a wrench in the other. Grease is smeared on your face, where teeth bite down on a playful smirk and the twinkle in your eyes speaks of terrible intentions—like always. You tilt your head back to the room behind you. “C’mon, Mando. Let my receptionist work.”

With a sigh, the hunter moves towards the separate room, not before glancing back at the receptionist, who throws him one last disapproving look and wraps the bandeau that never stopped blasting music around his ears.

“Why do you keep him here?” the Mandalorian grunts as you push yourself off the doorframe to move inside your studio.

You shrug. “It’s him or droids.”

Mando trails after you inside the cramped workshop, filled to the brim with piles and piles of sensors and motors and all the other scraps from dubious origins you collect, fix, and resell. He closes the door behind him and pushes a large tube hanging from the roof to the side to walk closer to you.

Facing him, you plummet on your wheeled chair with a sigh, your arms dangling off the armrests, still holding the wrench and the pliers, like you’re the monarch of your little kingdom of junk granting him an audience.

There, Mando finally gets a good look at you, and—much to his annoyance—you’re as lovely as always. Glistening and greasy, you’re still beautiful with oil stains on your skin and fat droplets of sweat trailing your temple. You beam at him from your squeaky throne with that faint grin that attracts nothing but trouble. Maker, no wonder you always manage to talk circles around him. But not this time. This time he won’t fall for your little games. He won’t, he won’t, he won’t. Tonight he’s walking out of here with all of his money, no matter how much you bat your pretty eyelashes at him.

The Mandalorian squares his stance and straightens his back in a futile attempt to intimidate you, strutting ahead firmly and pointing an accusing finger at your face.

“You sold me a—”

“—a busted navigator.” You roll your eyes and push yourself to your legs abruptly before the hunter can get any closer. He stops dead on his tracks. You wave the wrench and the pliers in the air like the conductor of an orchestra. “I sold you a busted navigator.” The vowels are dragged out with an exaggerated tune to make fun of him. “Yeah, I heard you the first four thousand times, Mando.”

Without looking, you drop the pliers to the side. They land dead center on an open storage box. Perfectly. Almost rehearsed. Something clicks. The Mandalorian suddenly finds the missing piece of a puzzle he didn’t know needed solving, and he feels his shoulders deflate and release some of the anger that drove him to your store in the first place.

You peacock closer to him, one foot in front of the other and swaying your hips as you look down to the wrench in your hand. “But, you should know by now,” you murmur once you find yourself only inches away from the beskar, your voice morphing its earlier mock exasperation into the tone you only use whenever you two aren’t talking business. You look up at him, failing miserably at masking the mischief in your eyes. “I don’t do refunds.” You lift the wrench and grin as it taps the beskar breastplate lightly with a tink.

And before you can blink, Mando’s hand flies to your wrist to clutch it roughly, squeezing without hurting you, but with enough strength to force your fist open. Just like he knows you like it. The wrench falls to the floor with a bang that makes you jump. It’s Mando’s turn to smile when he pulls you by the wrist to press you closer against him. The cocky glint in your eyes dulls into confusion.

“I never said it was the navigator,” he informs you lowly.

You tense under his grasp and shift your jaw. “You knew I’d come back,” he continues, encouraged by your grimace. Staring at your feet, you half-heartedly try to wriggle away from his grasp, but he grabs your other wrist instead and holds you flush against the cold beskar. “Okay. I’m back. Now give me my money.”

But his satisfaction is short-lived, because if there’s anyone in the universe who knows no shame, that’s you. So you simply bite your lower lip and move your head from side to side to shake hair and embarrassment off your face. When you look up at the visor again it’s with that brazen insolence that secretly gets the Mandalorian going like nothing else in the galaxy.

“A girl gets lonely in here,” you purr. Your wrists relax, and make no attempt to pull away. “Can you blame me for wanting you back a little earlier?” Your plush lips curl into the perverse smile of someone who’s holding all the cards, making heat rush involuntarily to his crotch. And it drives him fucking insane. He could have you tied, shackled, or bent over, and you would still sneer at him like you had him wrapped around your finger.

At his silence, you wedge a leg tightly between his thighs and massage it against the bulge between. Your gasp in fake surprise when his length hardens at the first hint of a brush, too unused to any sort of physical contact to remain neutral to your bold caresses. He bites down hard on his lip to suppress a moan. He won’t give you the satisfaction.

Mando’s learnt, though, that his restraint only feeds your audacity. Only makes you taunt him more. His lack of response spurs you on, and you crane your neck forward to lick a slow line along the beskar of the chest. You blink at him playfully as you go, stuffing your tongue back into your mouth once you reach the top edge of the breastplate.

You must find it funny. How his ribs expand and contract in anticipation. How he tends to roll and unroll his fists in an attempt to suppress the instinct to throw you on top of the table so crowded by clutter that he can barely see the surface beneath and fuck the smirks off your face. How he always gives in. How he stiffens both scandalized and impossibly aroused every time you introduce him to some newer, filthier act. You must think it’s so fucking funny.

And as much as the bounty hunter wants to shove you back against your crumbling wheeled chair, he knows you’ll only enjoy it more. So he simply lets go of your wrists and steps back.

“I’m only here for my money,” he lies.

The vicious grin grows wider. “Oh, so you’re making me work for it tonight.” You step back and lean against a table with your arms crossed over your chest, purposefully pushing your tits against the cleavage. Mando shifts in his place. Licking your lips until they glisten, you give him a once-over. You study him inch by inch, and an uncomfortable rope knots in his stomach when he realizes that this is how his bounties must feel when he watches them wordlessly.

Your eyes settle on his visor, and a decision seems to cross them as you walk over to sit on your creaking chair. “Or maybe you just want to hear me beg.” You part your legs wide and clutch the armrest with one hand while the other disappears under the waist of your pants. The contour of your hand shifts up and down slowly inside the crotch of your trousers, and your lips crook into a full O as they release a deep, foul moan. “Is that it?” Your eyes are glossy and malignant, trained on his visor. “You want me to beg for your cock?”

His leather gloves ball into fists, trying to coax blood into his head and away from his…well, his other head.

Yet you hold him in place with that sinful stare and the lewd whimpers that you know get him off, and yes, fuck yes, he wants to hear you beg and sob for him all night as much as he wants to clog your throat with his shaft and make you swallow your teasing.

But he can’t let you win. You can’t scam five thousand credits out of him and expect him to throw himself into your arms no questions asked. He wants to put an end to your little tyrannical rule on his cock. And he wants his fucking money back.

So the powerful Mandalorian watches helplessly as your hand quickens under your clothing and you throw your head back in ecstasy. That fucking smirk doesn’t leave you, though. Even less so when your palm picks up some speed and you hear his breath hitch involuntarily at the visual, loud enough to override the vocoder.

“C-come on, Mando, don’t—” Your hand sinks deeper into your pants and you hum at the adjustment. “Don’t you wanna teach me what—what proper cos-costumer service looks like? Huh?”

His cock jumps in his pants when you say his name in a wanton gasp, and Mando can see you’re sweating and moving your hips faster against your palm. He’s so hard it hurts.

Your smile falters and you frown impatiently as the pent-up tension threatens to snap in your body.

“Don’t cum,” Mando blurts before he can stop himself.

“Or what?”

“Or I won’t give you what you want.”

Your movements halt on command, and the hunter almost envies the control you have over your own body to be able to backtrack on the very edge of your release. You hold your hands up in triumphant surrender as you watch the Mandalorian approach and stop just a breath away from your body. He stands tall before you, crowding you with his size and turning down the volume on the nagging voice that reminds him that he’s letting you win.

Eyes on the prize ahead of you, you lick your lips and snake a hand beneath your sit. You pull a lever and the chair plummets a few inches until your mouth is directly in front of the rigid tent growing in his pants. Expert fingers undo his belt and lower his fly, but, stars, nothing is fast enough when Mando already feels the veins of his cock growing thicker and thicker. Skipping all formalities, your hand sneaks inside, cups his balls, and pulls all of him outside. He groans when you grab his shaft and squeeze hard from base to tip, your bare palm catching awkwardly on his equally dry skin. Mando melts into the sensation all the same, but you seem displeased with your palm’s lack of fluidity.

“Fuck. Hold on.” A pair of fingers disappear into your mouth and down your throat as far as they’ll go. You choke on them dramatically and your eyes water slightly, but they shine when the two small intruders drag outside your mouth, pulling a thick string of elastic spit with them and dropping it on his shaft, pulsing with anticipation. You lean forward and look up through your lashes as you unroll your tongue slowly and more gooey saliva dangles from it. It’s too dense to spill onto its target, so you pluck the heavy ropes from your mouth and smear it manually on his cock, while a thread of it hangs on your chin.

“Fuck.” Your tiny clenched fist wakes up every nerve in his body as it drags up and down his shaft, obscene and perfectly lubricated. Mando’s hips buck into its grasp involuntarily, so suddenly that you flinch at the unexpected jolt. It’s a small comfort for him, to see that he can also surprise you. But then you’re giggling again, locking him in place by grabbing the buck of his belt with your free hand.

“Eager,” you remark. You lean forward and place a chaste kiss on the tip that digs into his spine. Maker, it was barely anything, but he’s so hard and your mouth is so close. “Aren’t Mandalorians,” you tease, “supposed to have self-restraint?”

Mando’s only answer is a low groan and a gloved hand that tangles on your hair and pushes you forward. You resist, though, instead wrapping a fist around his base and dragging your hot tongue up his underside, stopping just before the tip. A tortured whimper echoes around the helmet, and the Mandalorian is not sure if you could hear it because his muscles pull tighter, drawing his attention to his cock and your mouth and the fact that the latter is not wrapped around him for some reason. As if you could read his mind, you suddenly engulf him whole. Spit gathers on the edge of your lips as you suck on his length, swallowing around the tip and swirling your tongue around his girth.

“Fuck, you’re so—so fucking g-good at this.” You hum in response, sending vibrations through his shaft that make his knees buckle. He always forgets how good it feels with you. He forgets that you take him perfectly like all your holes were made for him to fuck. That you make his blood run hot with every swing of your tongue and every spasm of your cunt and every insolent remark that escapes your lovely mouth, now busy pleasuring him.

You settle on his head and suck on the bulb, hollowing your cheeks to let him feel the delicious inside of your mouth. Mando grabs handfuls of your hair with both hands, still trying to extinguish little whimpers before they leave his throat. And you can tell. He knows you can tell because determination clouds your eyes as you yank him closer by the belt. You drag your tongue in a circle around the ridge of the head, before dipping into the slit on the tip and finally earning a punched out groan and some beads of precum as a reward. Somehow, you moan and chuckle at the same time, opening your mouth as strings of spit fall to the floor.

“You’re hard, Mando,” you coo, pumping his length while you rub it on the side of your face, “throbbing and so, so hard. You should’ve come to me sooner, baby. You’re desperate.” You suck on the head again, and the Mandalorian’s grip on your hair turns to steel, pulling you into him and no longer asking. Moaning, you let him, taking him as far as you can and wrapping a fist where you can’t reach. Your other hand releases his belt and snakes down to your lap, fumbling with the waistband of your pants.

Somewhere in the swamp of sensations drowning his thoughts, an idea flashes in Mando’s head, and he holds on to it before you can suck it out of his tip. One glove lets go of your hair and quickly grans the hand lowering into your heat to resume touching yourself. His cock still in your mouth, you look up at him with furrowed eyebrows and a silent question.

“You can’t c-cum,” he explains, forcing words out of a throat that right now only wants to moan, “un-until you give me my—my refund.”

You groan and roll your eyes, taking your mouth off him with a pop. “Fuck no,” you breathe as you pump him faster and harder, almost making Mando lose his resolve. Almost. His hold on your wrist tightens. “It’s store policy.”

“Y-yeah?” You continue sliding your fist along his shaft, as you lean forward and lower your face to start lightly licking his balls. The room spins around Mando, and his grip on your hair pushes you into him until you suck on one ball gently. “Is—is it store p-policy to—ngh—to f-fuck your clients?”

You chuckle against his taint. Your head straightens to set your attention back on his tip, where he’s leaking an almost embarrassing amount of precum. A thumb brushes over his slit, gathering the pearls and bringing them into your mouth to taste him. The way you rub your core slightly against the chair is sneaky enough, but the Mandalorian catches the movements and tugs your hand and hair tighter as a warning. Your shoulders slump. “I’ll give you half,” you offer.

Mando guides your hand lower and curls it around his swollen cock, silently begging for your attention. His hand wraps over yours as he squeezes your fist and drags it along his shaft at a pace of his liking that sets his insides ablaze. “Eighty.” The helmet falls back as he revels in the wet sounds of your hand sliding back and forth his cock and giving him a nice enough memory for when he inevitably goes back to the Crest and is forced to take care of his needs himself.

You let him guide you, cupping his balls with your other hand and swirling your tongue around his darkening tip. Mando’s chest trembles with a long moan at the toe-curling feeling of your warm spit and your clenched fist working so hard for him, until you drop him from your mouth and answer, “Seventy.”

“N-no, I—”

“—Seventy,” you repeat and twist your hand away from his grasp, leaving his seeping cock throbbing and abandoned, “or you don’t cum.”

Fuck, he was close. He was so fucking close, before you turned the tables. Like fucking always. A part of him cradles his already bruised pride, shaming him for—yet again—not being able to hold it together around you. But his cock tugs harder. More insistently. It pulls every fiber in his body and screams at him to give you whatever the fuck you want.

“Fine.” He nods his head once, before his better sense can convince him otherwise. “Seventy.”

A full, beautiful smile that almost makes Mando forget he’s getting scammed graces your plump lips. You waste no time shoving your hand inside your underwear again and moving your arm frantically as you give him a couple of throaty whines. You open your mouth as wide as it’ll go and blink up at him, inviting him to take you however he so pleases. He tangles his fingers on your hair and shoves you against him as you wrap your lips around his cock and muffle your mewls on it.

The Mandalorian starts fucking your face, getting his money’s worth as he moves you back and forth. Your eyes water and you gag with every shove, but you work earnestly for him, hollowing your cheeks and moving your tongue and pulling just about every trick on your toolbox to make Mando’s eyes roll to the back of his head.

And stars, even through your pants and his helmet, he can still smell your arousal. He hears the wet squelching of your fingers working your pussy fast and if he could only get a look. One look is all he needs to cum, he’s sure, one fucking look at your clenching cunt and he’s done.

“F-fuck, l-let me see,” he pants, “let—let me s-see you—see your p-pussy cum, just—fuck—just a mo-moment, please, j-just…”

Tears from all the gagging fall out of your pretty eyes as you open your mouth and stand up, taking your trembling hand outside to fumble with your trousers. Your thumbs are hooked under their waistband and push down slightly before you suddenly stop and stare at the Mandalorian gulping all the oxygen he can get and waiting for you. “Sixty,” you say carefully.

Too intoxicated with you and too focused on the blood beating hard on his cock, Mando couldn’t care less. He doesn’t give a shit about percentages or money or parts or whatever half-forgotten excuse he had to come here tonight. All that matters and all that’s real is whatever he needs to climax, and if it means letting you win, so be it. “S-sixty. Yes. Whatever. Just—just take your fucking pants off.”

One swift movement and your pants and underwear pool around your ankles. Yanking hard on the hem, you manage to pull the right leg off your boot. You don’t bother with the other one, letting it hang on your left leg as you climb back on the chair, spreading your legs and hooking one thigh over the armrest to offer him the best view possible.

Mando’s cock threatens to spill at the sight. You’re fucking soaked. Your folds are blushed and slick and swollen with all the blood accumulated on your cunt. Three fingers rub your aching clit and everything around it with messy strokes, as you stare at the bounty hunter with raw lust and moan for him loud and clear, and this. This is worth the fucking navigator.

As soon as his shaft ghost over your face you lean into it and reach for him with your mouth. Mando takes your head between his hands and resumes his previous brutal pace, his eyesight now directed at the way your cunt spasms and seeps more juices with every circle you press against your lips. And, fuck, you’re taking him like you’re hungry for his cock. Pushing harder and further and faster despite the gagging, you’re making Mando see blotches cloud his vision and feel how his muscles turn into hot, thick magma. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he can’t hold it in anymore. His balls start pulling up as a warning and you’re sucking harder and mewling around him.

“I—I…I’m gonna—I—”

Mando can’t find enough words to put together for the life of him, but you nod and manage a chocked “Mhmm” and bob your head to the pace of your quickening fingers and stars oh fuck—

The wave of his climax hits him hard on his back and makes him curl around you. He braces himself against the top of your chair and the change in position makes his cock slip outside of your mouth, but his vision goes completely black and all he can feel is the rush of pleasure crushing his bones into dust. Maybe your name is falling from his lips, but he can’t be sure. The never-ending spurts of cum falling somewhere hoard most of his attention, and he focuses on that thick and heavy release, so rare for him that he puts his mind into savoring every second.

It’s not until the echoes around his ears dissipate that the Mandalorian hears you’re still whimpering. Hunched over you, he opens his eyes just in time to see you gather some of the seed that he spilled on your neck and bring it down to smear it over your bundle of nerves, rubbing it one, two, three, four times, before you’re sobbing long and loud. Your hole tightens around nothing, your forehead resting on his cuisse, and Mando thinks he could get hard again just from the image.

You both stay like that for a while, curled into each other and panting in turns, until Mando gathers all the energy left in his system to pull himself upright and shove his softening shaft back into his pants. It’s only then that he sees just how much of a mess he made: Cum landed everywhere. It hangs thick all over your face, on your neck, on your hair, on your clothes. He blushes darkly and he’s about to open his mouth to apologize, but you sense it. Somehow. You wink and brush off his shame with a smile and a wave of your hand, standing up to get dressed. But Mando’s quicker. He kneels in front of you and gently raises your underwear until it hugs your hips, wishing for a fleeting second he could press a kiss on the supple flesh there. You grab his pauldron for balance to sneak your foot into the pantleg that Mando holds open for you.

For once, it’s he who breaks the silence. “I…I do want my sixty percent, you know.”

“Of course.” You smile sweetly at him, reaching back to your work table to grab a clean rag, rubbing it against your face and neck. “I’ll even throw in some free microvalves for good measure.”

—

Taglist of two so you can keep each other company :) : @rosetophighlander @hellomothermoon

#the mandolarian #the mandalorian x you #the mandolorian x reader #the mandalorian x ofc #the mandalorian smut #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #mando smut #star wars smut #star wars day #his fucking microvalves that he worked hard on

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dershloop · 3 years

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i wrote this while sick nd did edit it while slightly less sick so excuse and weird discrepancies LMAO

Title: Get Well Soon, Gumball

Words: 1698

Warnings: a bit of swearing, some self-esteem/body issues mentioned

Relationships: Glacier, background Plasma

“Are you sure you should be training today Cole? You don’t look so good,” Jay said hesitantly, looking over at his friend concerned for his health.

“Yeah dude, you look rough. I’m surprised Zane even let you get out of bed,” Kai chimed in, narrowly avoiding a hard blow to the head from the automated training dummy.

“Don’t say my name too loud guys, he didn’t,” Cole croaked, “I just can’t afford to take a day off.”

“What?” Kai exclaimed, purposefully being as loud as he could to try to draw Zane’s attention from inside the monastery. This time, however, he wasn’t as lucky in regards to dodging the dummy while also attempting to look after his best friend, letting it land a well-placed blow to his ribs. “Fucking hell, ow,” He groaned from his new position on the dusty ground, splaying out his arms in legs, letting out loud, long, laboured breaths as he attempted to lessen the pain.

“Oh my God, firefly are you ok?” Jay said, abandoning his kendo helmet and Shinai on the ground as he rushed over to his boyfriend to help him up. Cole walked over too, though with a lot less urgency, not even taking off his helmet or dropping his own Shinai.

“Ok you definitely need to get back in bed,” Kai said through laboured breaths to Cole, taking Jay’s hand and hoisting himself up with a wince as his side stabbed with pain “You didn’t even drop your Shinai. I’ve known you for years and even if you’re feeling rough you’re always one of the first to help us if one of us falls. You’re not well.”

“I heard shouting, is everything ok?” Zane called, walking out into the yard to the sight of Jay fussing over Kai and Cole stood, fully geared out and standing shakily, looking as if he wasn’t 100% sure where he was.

“You’re boyfriends being a little shit,” Jay said, looking over at Zane as he practically dragged Kai away from the yard and towards Nya and Pixal’s workshop to get some kind of medical help for his extremely bruised and possibly broken ribs.

“Yeah Z, he is not ok. You need to sort him out and get him in bed,” Kai wheezed, hobbling slightly.

“Kai shut up before you do yourself anymore damage. This dumbass probably just broke a few ribs and he still has the nerve to lecture Cole about being out of bed. I hope he feels better soon, I’ll come and see him after I’ve dumped him on Nya and Pix,” Jay said, beginning to attempt to drag Kai away.

“You know you love me really,” Kai coyly remarked, stilling wheezing slightly. Jay didn’t respond, but Zane could tell he rolled his eyes.

Zane panned his eyes over to his own sick boyfriend, who was still standing, fully kitted out in his Kendo training gear. Even his shinai was hanging loosely from his large hands. He looked genuinely awful, worse than he had that morning in fact.

“Before you say anything, I feel fine,” Cole croaked, letting out a long sniff afterwards.

“Cole Hence Brookstone I told you to stay in bed,” Zane said sternly, looking over at the quivering mess of a boyfriend who was currently stood in front of him.

“I know but-”

“No buts, you’re coming with me right now.”

Cole knew better than to continue to protest; in situations like this, Zane usually got his way. Whether or not it was rightly so was down to interpretation. He shuffled through the blurred hallways, not 100% sure where he was going. He knew a bed of some kind would be involved but the question of whose bed was a largely unanswered one considering his brain was 300% more concentrated on keeping him upright and at least semi-conscious. The room he was led into was dark; too dark to be Zane’s and it wouldn’t be Kai, Jay, Lloyd or Nya’s because that’d be weird. Even he was conscious enough to know it was his room.

“Here, I’ll sort out your gear and stuff just try to relax,” Zane spoke softly, taking the kendo helmet off and placing it to the side, doing the same with the rest of his gear and gi. He then began sifting through Cole’s wardrobe, pulling out a hoodie and sweatpants to change into. Only then did he let him back into bed. Cole frowned and looked up at Zane from his place in bed.

“Get in with me. I need my teddy bear,” Cole groaned, his voice gravelly and even deeper than usual. Zane smiled.

“Ok, just give me a second to change. I doubt I’ll be leaving here for a while so there’s no point in being in my gi,” He said, walking over to Cole’s wardrobe again and pulling out a t-shirt and shorts, quickly changing and climbing into bed with him, any thought of training for at least that day discarded. Cole quickly readjusted himself, scooching over onto Zane, wrapping his arms and legs around him, resting his head on his chest for warmth.

“Why’d you get out of bed? I told you I’d be back with tea soon.” Zane said softly, running Cole’s hair through his fingers, twirling strands around and watching as the light reflected off it, showing at least another 10 hues shining through. The deep blues, browns and midnight blacks mingled and danced with the golden light streaming in through the curtains. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. Even if he didn’t always think so. Zane would always be there to remind him that he was.

“I can’t afford a day off,” Cole said hoarsely, “I’m already not as thin as you guys, the more days I take off the worse it’ll get.” Zane furrowed his brow and thought for a moment, trying to fully process what Cole had just said.

“Are you… saying what I think you’re saying? Because if you are, I’m going to have to take evasive measures,” Zane said matter of factly. If Cole really did think him being bigger was a bad thing, there would have to be action taken.

“What? You know it’s true. If I stop working out I’ll just get fatter, I can’t take a day off,” He croaked sadly, biting his lip. His head was spinning but he couldn’t just lay in bed all day; he had to do something. He had to at least get a few reps in.

“Hmmm,” Zane hummed, “It’s worse than I thought. Cole, it seems you are suffering from a serious case of negative body image. There’s only one known cure,” Cole laughed a little and played along.

“What is it, doc?”

“500 kisses and a whole day in bed of cuddles,” Zane replied stoically.

“Oh well then, someone who spent 2 hours downloading every episode of greys anatomy must know what they’re talking about,” Cole replied sarcastically, a goofy smile playing on his lips.

“Exactly, and I know you’re being sarcastic so I see I’m going to have to crank it up to 700 kisses.”

“Oh no! How terrible!” Cole gasped, still being sarcastic, however, it backfired as he began to cough aggressively.

“That’s what you get for being an asshole, I’m also cranking your prescription up to 1000 kisses but seeing as this might go on for a while, I’m capping it at that,” Zane said with a chuckled, rubbing his hand up and down Cole’s back slowly, just waiting for Cole to say the word so he could administer the treatment.

“You know me too well,” Cole laughed weakly, propping himself up on his chin which admittedly was uncomfortable but he was willing to endure so he could look at Zane’s beautiful face, “So doc, when’s the treatment starting?”

“How… about… now!” Zane exclaimed, beginning to pepper kisses all over Cole’s head and face, making Cole laugh hoarsely.

Zane pushed Cole off of him, pinning his arms down and kissing all up his arms and onto his hands and fingers, before moving to his torso and making sure every square inch was covered in his love. Eventually, he made his way back up to Cole’s face, making sure every little bit of his neck was covered as well, in some places even leaving small red marks behind. Whether or not they were unintentional, Zane would never tell. The final kiss was placed on Cole’s lips, making sure to press extra hard to accentuate his point.

“Wow, Z, you’re meticulous I’ll give you that,” Cole said through laughs shaking his head at the nindroid currently sat on his lap. His hands sat on his waist comfortably, a true testament to how much they really were meant to be. It was almost as if the sweet tin can sat on top of him was made for him.

“Why thank you. Are you cured?”

“If I say no, do I get more kisses?” Cole said coyly with a smirk, massaging circles into Zane’s waist with his thumbs.

“Depends. If you’re good and get in bed properly and don’t leave until your better, then most assuredly,” Zane said matter of factly, his own hands idly drifting over Cole’s torso. If he could see inside his mind for just a moment, Zane was sure he’d see himself the way he saw him. He was the perfect size for hugs and cuddles, and his larger stature just meant all the more Cole to hold and love. It also meant he could pick him up which, in their 2 years of dating, Zane was sure he’d never find it the most amazing and adorable thing ever.

“Oh well then, it’s settled,” Cole said quickly, moving Zane off of him and getting under the covers, quickly snuggling back into his chest. He could hear all the mechanical parts inside him buzzing and whirring, turning and pumping, keeping Zane alive. There was something comforting about the soft noises that emitted from his boyfriend that just radiated comfort. The mechanical buzz was a grounding constant. Always there, always around, always keeping him sane.

Zane smiled and wrapped his arm around Cole, holding him close.

“Get well soon, gumball.”

#glacier #glaciershipping #ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago kai #ninjago kai smith #ninjago zane #ninjago zane julien #ninjago cole #ninjago cole brookstone #ninjago fanfiction #ninjago glacier #ninjago zane/cole

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engaged19times · 3 years

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RHONJ Recrap - season 11, ep 1 - C U Next Tuesday!

Greetings fellow prostitution whores and welcome to my new weekly recrap of American institution The Real Housewives of New Jersey! Before I jump in I’ll introduce myself by saying that I’m a housewives super fan (I even watched DC, an experience I wouldn’t wish on my worst sister-in-law), an underemployed comedy writer (I can’t define “napalm” either, Lauren Manzo), and nothing makes me happier than to watch 6 bedazzled hypocrites in Cheesecake Factory mansions argue etiquette and loyalty between physical altercations in the world renowned cultural hub of Paterson, New Jersey. I know essay recaps are a bit of a relic but I am fond of ye olde written word so please enjoy this blast from the past, you scumbags!

We open without fanfare mid-scene to red-eyed Jackie and dead-eyed Teresa sitting in Margaret’s partially finished, wallpaper smothered home. We get the Bad Girls Club black-and-white flashes but unlike in Beverly Hills we’re not flashing to “three months earlier” but instead to “three days earlier.” It might take women of less gumption precious time to build to a production-halting confrontation but it only takes these agents of chaos half a week to get the meatball rolling.

Let’s back up a little to the ominous “three days prior” and catch up with our hot girls. It’s Jackie’s giant hot husband’s 46th birthday so she’s throwing him a party under a tent in the parking lot of a Greek restaurant. We learn that Teresa and Joe’s father has sadly passed in the offseason and Dolores Thee Stallion and Margaret have both had full cosmetic overhauls - Dolores with a second butt enhancement that left her with a giant hip scar rivaled only by Sally from Nightmare before Christmas and Margaret with a boob lift and apparent nipple sharpening (is that a procedure?) that she advertises in a blush silk top with no bra. Never one to be outdone at a parking lot birthday party, Joe Gorga arrives with his storyline - I mean wife, Melissa - also smuggling raisins under a skin tight children’s white T-shirt. Nipples are trending, ladies!

The Nightmare Before Christmas.

A beautiful boob lift.

Tarzan’s headlights.

Margaret’s hot employee Lexi and Teresa’s hot realtor Michelle (both of whom are official friends-of this year), as well as iconic social wrecking ball and Aydin Center for Plastic Surgery mascot Jennifer all saunter in for car park cocktails at this 3D nipple fashion show and as the night devolves we see the cast getting truly shit-housed on shots when out of nowhere storyline sniper Teresa drops the bomb that she heard sexy birthday Bigfoot Evan is cheating on Jackie... more specifically, that he “does stuff” at the gym but mysteriously can’t remember any details or where she heard this head-scratching accusation that draws as many gasps as it does “huhs?” Honest straight people question: do y’all hook up at gyms? And if so, where? Are there co-ed saunas now? Also can one of you explain the allure of Mike and Molly to me? Moving on. Most shocking was that the Perez Hilton of North Jersey doesn’t just drop this wild accusation once, she gleefully skips through this asphalt soiree like a goddamn town crier, addressing everyone she passes like Belle through the town square.

The next day the hard partying crew of Jersey Shore: All Grown Up recovers from their throbbing hangovers and we see cool mom Melissa traipsing through her particle board mausoleum in see-through sweatpants with a visible thong in front of her kids’ friends (you girls keep me young!), Marge Sr. driving a blue Mini Cooper with eyelashes on the headlights (which I assume are like the spinning rims of the Jersey Grandma community), and a flashback of Margaret’s Joe puking next to a tree (relatable, my dude).

Marge Sr.: Fully Loaded.

You girls keep me young!

Over at Jennifer’s palatial child farm we learn that her parents fight so much these days that she moved her father (Carl from Up!) to her multi-generational compound which has only angered her mother more.

Jennifer’s sweet dad.

We then find out Dolores’s dry boyfriend David with whom she shares the burning passion of a melting ice sculpture now lives with her bulging slab of a son Frankie Jr. in the house he and Delores built together but Dolores curiously still lives with her also bulging but slightly slimey ex Frank Sr. in her original house, a near Braunwyn-level web of over-explained but still vague relationship fuckery of which none of them seem on the same page. Dolores hid her surgery from David until the day before, David still works constantly so she hangs out with her ex all the time, and I can’t help but think that we aren’t getting the full story on whatever the fuck is happening under these two roofs. Are they brother-husbands? Is Frank Sr. piping both of them? Can Frankie Jr. DM me his nudes please? The only one being straight-forward in these duel households of confusion is Dolores’s dog who is simply named Dog and I honestly appreciate his refreshing transparency.

Dog Catania, king of transparency.

Finally, Jackie calls Teresa to organize an infamous Jersey sit-down because she somehow got wind of the out-of-thin-air accusations that Teresa all but presented with a bull horn and a PowerPoint at Evan’s parking lot social. They decide to meet at Margaret’s partially constructed house/ wallpaper showroom because it’s neutral territory to hash things out in a relaxing landscape of ladders and contrasting patterns and the tension is so thick you could cut it with one of Margaret’s newly renovated nipples.

Jackie pleads with Tre to clear her husband’s good name and Tre enters a baffling Kelly-Anne Conway bullshit loop which includes such hits as “woman to woman, if I heard this you wouldn’t want me to tell you?” (a reasonable point which is actually working against Teresa because it’s the opposite of what she did), then explaining to Margaret the immediately contradictory “I didn’t tell her and it’s not like I told Evan, I told my friends” (which is an explanation of what she obviously did wrong but said in the tone of a defense), the wacky last ditch nonsense deflection “Alright let me tell you the reason why I did it. This year, now, you know I’m single now. I’ve been approached by a lot of married men that think that it’s OK to have affairs,” and finally just saying fuck it and rewriting history “I did not spread a rumor, I heard a rumor.”

The truth is that Teresa was retaliating for a cheating rumor Jackie entertained about her last year but neither can be held to such unreasonable expectations like addressing reality or admitting fault which is actually ideal because if I cared to see emotionally mature community leaders converse thoughtfully I’d watch Oprah’s Super Soul Sunday not this unhinged turnpike circus.

Jackie’s rival won’t budge so she chooses the nuclear option, looks the reigning matriarch of Paterson in her vacant eyes, and declares confidently “I heard Gia snorts coke in the bathroom at parties” which stopped time on Earth as far as I’m concerned. Is this wild accusation true? Probably not. Was this retaliatory tit equal to the offending tat? Debatable. Do I blame Teresa for immediately whipping into a tailspin and storming out screaming the C-word (no Kathy Wakile, not “canoli kit”) at Jackie no less than 80 times? Girl, no I do not. Jackie has since clarified (backtracked?) that this was an analogy not a rumor she heard which... OK, and whether or not either of the atomic bombs dropped in this breakneck premiere were true, I’m excited to watch our Paterson superstars battle it out for another batshit season!

Esteemed poet laureat of Paterson, NJ.

Join me and my own rock hard nipples next week to recrap a girls trip to Lake George, more developments in the case of Jackie vs Teresa: Jersey Crime Story, and hopefully another cameo by breakout superstar Dog Catania! Please share this recrap with the prostitution whores in your life if you enjoy and follow me on Tumblr (engaged19times), Insta (@engagednineteentimes), and Twitter (@_engaged19times)! I’m recrapping weekly but I don’t get screeners (yet) and it takes me a few days to catch up so please be patient!

XO engaged19times

#rhonj #real housewives #teresa giudice #margaret josephs #jennifer aydin #jackie goldschneider #Dolores Catania #melissa gorga #bravo #bravotv #real housewives of New Jersey #recrap #engaged19times

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bai-zewarrior · 4 years

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So I finally nailed down my designs for the black heart characters (except colossus, perry/predator and Madusa I'm still massing with them) along with some head canons! The characters might look a bit weird next to each other, I didn't draw them all on the same canvas. I know I'm suppose to but I was lazy and didn't want to re draw the refs on one canvas. I also appologize for this being so long.

I'm hoping to start a comic with these guys. I always end up saying no to projects like this because I don't think my art is good enough but I think I'm going to put my foot down this time!

Hal:

Can talk(unlike my version of Cyan)

Pretty laid back but knows when he needs to be serious

Will curse you out

Thinks Aura and Nautilus are cute together

His cape works as his "soul meter"(idk what to call it). It has 3 squares on the back that represent Hal's souls. The cape becomes tattered and ripped when souls are taken.

He just wants 5 minutes of peace without someone trying to take his souls, please give him his 5 minutes of peace.

Really hates colossus

In the context of black heart I don't consider him a nano bot. He can bleed and stuff like that.

When he sleeps his body starts to heal any wounds and mend his cloths. This leaves him defenseless as he will remain unconscious until it's finished. He tries not to sleep out in the open and often uses caves and trees as temporary shelters when he needs to sleep. This can also activate when he is knocked unconscious but in cases like with Colossus the healing part is stopped.

He can change colors but he prefers red. His cloths don't change colors with him. Just his skin and his cape.

Again, in he context of black heart, I imagine Hal just kinda woke up somewhere with a bit of knowlage about himself and that's about it. Shortly after works he ran into Aura and Nautilus for the first time. He considered the battle a joke.

Nautilus:

Has glowing markings all over his body. He can cause them to glow at will

Can only breath air for around 10 minutes( this time can decrease with some conditions such as heat or cold. This is because his gills need to be wet for him to breath air, so if it's really hot out his gills will dry out faster)

Has a stutter due to the N.A.T.U thing, among other things. Like trust issues when Xero is around

Is euryhalinr(this just means he can breath any kind of water)

His suit adds about 100lbs to him (material, water, and special boots to help with balance when moving around in the suit)

Likes to make jewlary with shells and stuff

Loves Aura to death. Would litterally die for her.

His teeth work like a shark's. One falls out? You've got plenty more to fill the gap! He has given pretty much all his friends breif heart attacks when he casually spits one out after they hear the loud bone cracking noise of a tooth braking. He keeps all the teeth.

Runs on all fours for some reason. No one knows why, including Aura.

Aura:

Learned all her magic from her parents

Her parents lived like hermits because they believed people still hold witch hunts. Aura hated this because she snuck out a lot and knew that this wasn't the case.

Can be a bit forgetful with spells so she always keeps her book with her at all times

Love Nautilus to death, would die for him too.

Can't swim, her body it denser then water so she just sinks. Nautilus is almost always with her when she's near water for this reason.

Aura's wand is broken but she just keeps fixing it with tape because she doesn't know how to make a new one. She also doesn't want to ask her parents because they wouldn't let her live it down.

Made the headphones Puffer wears so he doesn't have to worry about Siren trying to mind control him, again.

Aura has a secret garden. She uses it to grow her magic plants. It has a defense system that even Jestar can't get past. Only those she has given permission can enter, but those people can give temporary permission to others. Only Nautilus, Puffer and Solario have permission to go into the garden.

Has gotten use to the weird things Natalie can do.

Puffer:

A bit of a hermit, but will open up when he trusts someone

Always has his eyes closed because he thinks his eyes look scary. He can still see for some reason? (Like Brock from pokemon, idk how he could see but he traveled like 3-4 regions like that)

Changes colors depending on emotions. Blue is calm and happy, purple is upset and sad and red is anger and frustration.

Puffer can create lots of spikes all over his body if needed as well as a set of claws. He doesn't do this often.

Likes to cook but keeps it a secret from everyone. (Aura and Nautilus found out though, they just kept the secret)

He really doesn't like Siren after what she did to him, but he will talk to her and hang out with her if someone else he trusts is around.

Really wants to apologize to Hal but he hasn't gotten the chance to yet.

Is really self conscious.

He's not very good at swimming but Nautilus teaches him when Siren isn't around or in Aura's secret garden.

Siren:

Likes to sing for no reason

Has a not so small army of skeleton fish

Is litterally heartless (she doesn't like to talk about it)

Has a crush on Puffer but she doesn't know how to fix the bridge she burned with him

Plays chess with Myst a lot(and wins a lot, much to Myst's dismay)

She can shape shift her tail into a pair of legs. This was a "gift" from Jestar to help her be a better assassin for him

Thinks Xero is a prick

Likes to steal Xero's alcohol sometimes

Can water bend. She can't blood bend though. She's tried.

Likes rock and country music for some reason

Nautilus likes to play with her fish some times.

Knows a bit about necromancy. She doesn't like to talk about it though. She never does it in front of anyone besides her fish army

Myst:

Doesn't like to talk about his life outside work

Is well over 100 years old( he lost count)

Is very protective when it comes to Shade

Doesn't really understand Shade but will support her regardless

Likes to smoke when he thinks no one is around

Can create an umbrella to protect himself if he is caught outside when the sun comes up

Likes to play chess

Is basically a dad to the other assassins

Rarely opens his third eye. This usually only happens when he gets frantic, scared or extreamly angry

Does not have any remorse over killing Parry

He doesn't eat in front of others if it can be helped

Myst told Nautilus about Shade once. He had a bad feeling and asked that if anything happened to him Nautilus would take care of her. Only problem was no one thought about the address of Myst and Shade's mansion. He found her though, don't worry.

When he is exposed to sunlight it will immediately cause him to get sunburned. If he doesn't leave after about 30 seconds- 1 minute he will start to die slowly and painfully. He has taken a lot of tea baths because of the sun

Solario:

A big dork

Very loud and bubbly

Is a prince from a kingdom galaxies away from where black heart takes place in

Was suppose to marry the moon from the moon is getting away level (haven't given her a name yet) but she unknowingly broke Sol's heart so he left. He wanted her to be happy and he clearly couldn't give her that happiness.

Doesn't understand "mortal" things but wants to learn.

Nautilus taught him the word yeet and now he won't stop using it

I headcanon that his voice actor would Gary LeVox(lead singer of Rascal Flatts)(don't ask why, I can't change what has happened in my brain)

Will stop at nothing to see his friends happy

Likes hanging out with Aura, Nautilus and Puffer

Can make himself hotter or colder at will. He tends to stay at a heat that won't hurt others when the go near him, but not cold enough to cause himself harm.

If he gets to cold he can die. He also starts to become extreamly cold or extremely hot before death. The direction his tempature goes in is dependent on what he was doing before hand. (Example: reading a book, gets shot, starts to get colder and colder. Attacking Hal trying to get his soul, shapeshifts so much he almost blows himself up, gets hotter and hotter)

Can be a bit over dramatic sometimes

He is incredibly strong. He can lift both Puffer(who whieghs roughly 230 lbs) and Nautilus when he's in his suit(so about 250 lbs) with no trouble. He forgets about his stranghth some times and has accidentally thrown a few things before quickly trying to fix it.

His shapeshifting isn't limited to just objects, he can shape shift small things about him self like his cloths or his entire body into something like a dinosaur. He doesn't do it often though. Mostly just the cloths thing.

Jestar:

Yells a lot

Thinks everyone is incompetent except Xero, for some reason

Accidentally took Puffer when Siren joined do to a confusion about Sirens powers. He refused to send Puffer home.

Colossus is basically just his pet

Xero is the only one who can get away with yelling at Jestar. No one really knows why but they hold really long arguments about all sorts of stupid stuff

Did I mention he yells a lot? I did? Well I’m saying it again. He yells A LOT.

Can shapeshift in to anything

Does not know how to handle baby Madusa. He doesn't know how to handle people in general, and he thought creating a baby was a good idea.

Xero:

Smokes and drinks a lot

Has a German accent(I can’t un heard it, I’m sorry)

Has a wrapped sense of humor

Calls Natilus “shark boy” after natilus bit him(this is related to what happened before N.A.T.U)

Calls everyone a nicknames besides Jestar.

Makes more robots then he needs and holds robot death battles at night.

Wants to dissect Siran after he found out she’s litterally heartless.

Is drunk 90% of the time but that's when he works best. He doesn't care that he has a problem either

Dressed Madusa up is costumes a lot during the 2 weeks it took him to grow up. He created a scrap book with photos of them too.

Can actually be a really nice dude when he wants to be. He doesn't normally want to be nice

90% of his robots are idiots

He's left handed

Colossus:

Is basically Jestar’s pet

Doesn’t speak a language anyone knows

Is basically a king without a kingdom

Starts out really tiny but gets really big for a short period of time once he has infected someone

Shade:

Has trust issues

Is only like 16 years old

Has normal(ish) ghost powers because she was born a ghost

Drives Myst nuts with her edgy stuff

Likes talking to Perry(she meets him after the Funk Hole level)

Can bounce between having a ghost tail to having normal legs.

Her flower is technically apart of her but she doesn't consider it part of her.

Perry:

Kinda skittish around people who look scary to him(so 90% of the black heart cast)

Has a crush on Shade but won't admit it out loud because he's scared of getting bitten in half by Myst, again.

Around 18 years old

Left home because his mom and brother suck and he wanted to be a ghost hunter like the ones he saw on tv. He got his wish for like 2 hours?

Transforms into Predator during the full moons and special moons. Special moons can have different effects on his transformation and mental state. Like a blood moon causes him to become more blood thirsty but a blue moon causes him to actually retain his normal mental state.

He has a habit of spiraling about everything

Predator:

Can't say anything understandable

Each part of his head has a brain so they agrue sometimes

Around 5X the size of Parry

Acts like a dog sometimes

Would have probably just ate Hal instead of taking the souls.

Madusa:

Can breath underwater and air without issue

Doesn't like the fact that he looks like Nautilus

Hasn't figured out how to swim fast like nautilus yet but won't admit it

Calls Jestar dad

Actually gets along well with Xero

Xero calls him Moccasin

Has markings like Nautilus but they only glow in the dark and they aren't as bright

He's allergic to shell fish

Actually had about a 2 week period where he was a kid. Xero and Jestar just gave him a special serum that caused I'm to grow up faster.

Most of his teeth ended up like Aura's but his canines are significantly sharper then they would be. Xero also found an extra set of teeth under Madusa's adult teeth.

Doesn't like the idea that his whole life rests on a tiny, easy to brake, stone on his head but just rolls with it.

Scared Jestar and Xero a lot during his first few days of life. He not only descovered his allergy to shell fish but almost got himself caught by the others a bunch of times.

All these guys belong to OL666 except Hal, he belongs to vitamin games

#art #bai zewarrior #my art #project arrhythmia #project arrhythmia puffer #black heart project arrhythmia #nautilus project arrhythmia #project arrhythmia Hal

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random-mha-thoughts · 4 years

Text

Skater Boy (Kirishima x Reader)

Pairing: Kirishima x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: College!AU; You’re going to get pizza and you run into a group of skaters from your university

Word count: 2,640

Tags: @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog @bunnythepipsqueak

a/n: I was talking to my cousin one day and the thought just suddenly hit me, What if the Bakusquad were skateboarders? And so this idea was born! Not the best but I think it’s cute, and he deserves fluff after I just wrote angst for him.

"I think I might actually fail that class," I deflate, hunched over. "I study until I'm blue in the face and I still do bad on the exams. And he doesn't even curve the grades!"

Tzuyu raises an eyebrow at me. "(Y/n), you have a B in that class, why are you so worried?"

"Because I want an A!" I burst out as we walk up the parking lot of the pizza shop. "It's still only the middle of the semester, I need a good enough cushion just in case I slip up on the last few exams. I can't get another C!"

My dark haired friend grabs my shoulders and looks me in the eye. "You're freaking out for nothing, just chill. Do something fun for a change."

I sigh exasperatedly. "I don't have time for fun. I need enough time to study and do my homework, and I need time to procrastinate because of how stressed I am." She doesn't understand since she's not a science major, she's a lucky Communications major.

She rolls her eyes. "If you keep going like this, you'll start having premature grays hairs. And you'll look older than you already do."

I shove her playfully. "Are you saying I look older than my age?"

"Yup. And it doesn't help that you have resting bitch face either."

I jump in front of her to jokingly insult her too. "You're-"

"Incoming!"

Stepping backwards, the ground underneath my foot is slightly higher and shaky, making my leg jerk to the side instinctively and I land square on my ass, almost knocking into the shop's glass doors. My head follows the sound of wheels rolling to see a skateboard gliding away from us.

"Hey, stupid." A shadow casts over me and I meet the eyes of a pretty annoyed ash-blond boy, his hands in his forest green cargo pants pockets. He looks down his nose at me with a grimace. "That was my board you tripped on."

I blink, not knowing what he expects me to say. "Um. Sorry?"

Tzuyu helps me off the floor. "Why would you let it roll away if you didn't want anyone touching it?"

He grabs it from the small distance it traveled, kicking the edge and gripping it by the metal between the wheels. His board is almost all black with a giant white skull in the middle surrounded by orange and yellow flames. "We warned you, not our fault you stepped on it like an amateur."

My gaze flicks briefly to the group of other people hanging around the side of the building before returning back to him. "All you said was 'Incoming,' how were we supposed to know what to watch out for?"

The boy rolls his eyes and swaggers up to me. Being almost an entire head taller, he slouches over me. "You should've know to just freeze up," he growls.

The combination of his height towering over me and his murderous crimson eyes makes me gulp, but stand my ground. I cross my arms over my chest. "M-Maybe if you weren't so bad at skateboarding, you wouldn't have messed up for it to roll away from you."

The boy growls and bares his teeth at me. "You wanna say that again?!"

"Okay, calm down, dude, it was just an accident." A red-headed friend of the boy runs up and pushes him away when I flinch into Tzuyu's arms behind me. "You don't have to pick a fight with everyone you meet, just chill."

The porcupine-haired boy grumbles under his breath and walks back to the rest of his group.

I turn to the saintly friend. "Thank you-"

As soon as he turns around, the words get jumbled in my throat. The front of his hair is so cutely tucked over his face under his black beanie. His features give off a boyish charm with sharp features like his eyes and his jawline. His beaming smile puts blindingly white sharp teeth on display as his eyes crinkle up. "Sorry about him, he's a bit of a hothead."

"It's okay!" I say quickly, waving my hands in front of me and looking down. My eyes meet with his board, the pattern a scarlet matching his hair color with black lettering outlining the initials RR. "You have a pretty cool board. Matches your hair." It's a dumb compliment and I know it is, I'm just trying to make conversation.

He picks it up by the sides and admires it himself. "You like it? Painted it myself! I bought the wheels, but I sprayed the trucks black because I thought it looked cooler."

"Seems like a personification of you." You sound so lame and boring, why would you say that?

"It's new, I'm trying to get it scratched up and everything." He holds it with one hand at his side and holds his hand out to me, flashing another brilliant smile. "I'm Eijirou Kirishima by the way!"

Tzuyu and I introduce ourselves. "Do you go to the university here?" my friend asks.

"Yeah, we all do," he motions to the rest of them. "We just like to come out and chill every once in a while, usually we're at the park though."

I know which one he's talking about. About a block away, opposite the direction of our university, is a skate park that I've seen whenever we pass by here to get food.

Tzuyu clears her throat and nudges me from behind and I shoot her a look to stop.

"Yo, Kiri! We're goin' back to the park, you comin'?" One of the boys with bright blond hair and a black hoodie calls out.

Kirishima's head flits back and forth between us and his friends. "I'll meet up with you guys later!" he answers before turning his attention back to us. "I can treat you guys to lunch since Bakugou was being an ass if you want?"

My eyes widen. "You don't have-"

"Sure, why not?" Tzu talks over me and grabs my arm. "Let's go grab a table!"

I will kill everything you love.

Tzuyu does most of the talking while I eat my pizza like a silent bunny. We find out he's an Exercise Science major with an average GPA. The most surprising thin is that his loudmouth friend who almost jumped us is a pretty bright student.

"You really can't tell, he's such a hothead," Tzu comments.

"Yeah, he's been trying to work on it," Kirishima laughs and rubs the back of his head. "But he's a really smart guy, I usually ask him to explain stuff I don't understand."

I stare at the board he's laid down on the seat next to him. We're spread out inside a semicircle booth near the window, so it's right next to me. I stealthily reach out to spin one of the white and red wheels. Some part of me feels like a child because I get easily amused by these things.

"You must really like my board."

My heart lurches when I realize I've been caught, my face turning red when I meet his beaming face. "I'm sorry for touching it." I scoot away from it a little bit.

"No need to apologize, I don't mind." He pushes it towards me and leans his arms on the back of the cushioned seats. "Do you skate?"

I fiddle with the wheels again. "I have a board, actually, but I can't really skate." It's at my house, under my bed where I can't see it.

"That's cool, do you have a picture?" his scarlet eyes light up in excitement."

"No, I don't." I deleted it. "I, uh, dated someone who bought it for me and was supposed to teach me how to skate."

"And you broke up?" Kirishima finishes, his expression neutralized to a blank slate.

Damnit, look what you did, you've made everyone uncomfortable now. I take a last bite of my pizza, leaving the crust. Usually Tzuyu eats it for me.

Kirishima eyes it and his face turns a bit red, darting away from me. "Would it be weird to ask if I can eat your crust?"

I feel my own face get hot at his suggestion. Tzuyu coughs to hide her giggle and nods slightly. "Sure, go ahead," I manage to get out shakily.

He doesn't even hesitate to grab it once he has permission, happily chewing at it. Tzuyu bites her lip to keep herself at my obviously red face. Don't think about it, that's so childish, I chant to myself.

He licks his lips when he's finished. "So, (Y/n), do you still wanna learn?"

My entire body erupts in a strange combination of warmth and cold. I never really thought about skating after I broke up with the previous guy. It's just been sitting under my bed because I unconsciously can't bring myself to remind myself of anything about him. It wouldn't be a bad idea, but I also don't really want to embarrass myself in front of another cute guy.

Noticing my hesitation, Kirishima offers a warm smile. "You don't have to worry about falling in front of me! I couldn't stay on the board at first either!"

I can't imagine it, but something about his affable, trusting demeanor draws me to him. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to try."

"Awesome!" His entire face lights up and his eyes crinkle up again.

"You guys can go ahead, I'm going back to the dorms to study," Tzuyu gets up to throw her plate away. When Kirishima isn't looking, she wiggles her eyebrows and mouths, "Have fun."

"That's too bad. It was nice meeting you!"

I shake my head quickly at her, but she just sticks her tongue out at me and leaves.

The redhead grabs his board and stands up. "Shall we?"

Lord, I'm gonna die today.

Kirishima had already got me to feel out my balance standing on the grass and was now planing on moving me to the concrete. Cue all my fears of falling off and busting my head open.

"Do you know which stance you're more comfortable standing with?" he asks, placing the board in front of me near a pole in the parking lot.

"I think so?" I'm not familiar with it, but I can switch it up later.

"Alright, hold onto the pole and step up. I'll stand in front of you just in case you fall forward, just be careful falling backwards." He's been extra patient with me this whole time, it's endearing.

"Can you clone yourself so you can be in both places?" I ask feebly, clasping my hands in front of me, staring at the little board.

He chuckles, "I wish I could. You'll do fine, I'll try to catch you either way."

I take a breath, holding onto the pole and placing my foot on the board. I don't want to look like a coward in front of Kirishima, so I grasp the metal tightly and plant my other foot, wobbling a little in place and whining.

"You're doing good! Are you cool so far?" He moves to stand on the side where my body faces forward.

"I think so?" My blood pumps with adrenaline and all I want to do is leap off and go back to the dorms. Damnit Tzu, why did you leave me here?

"Okay, whenever you're ready, just push off and roll!"

My front fist clenches in front of me, every instinct telling me not to let go of the pole. "You'll catch me, right?" I confirm, my legs shaking in anticipation.

"Yup!" He holds his hands out, palms up and ready. "Ready when you are!"

Don't be a coward, just do it. I push off weakly and start rolling only slightly faster than a snail's pace before I shake and spasm, putting a hand on Kirishima's arm instinctively. "Shit, sorry-" I take my hand off only to windmill my arms and lean backward.

He grabs both of my hands. "Lean on me, it's okay."

His warm smile and gentle voice makes me feel stupid for being an imbalanced fool. "I'm sorry, I'm such a klutz, I'm really bad at this," I burst out quickly.

"You're fine, take your time." The warmth from his hands flusters me even more and I want to let go, but if I do I'll fall over. "Do you want me to push you so you can try again? Is it okay?" I nod, my body still shaking. I shift to balance with one of his hands as he frees the other. "I'm gonna let go after I push you, plant yourself."

He pushes at the small of my back gingerly, sending me rolling a little faster than before. Despite being wobbly, somehow I manage to keep my balance for a few more seconds, the board wavering back and forth under my feet.

"You've got it, good job!" Kirishima praises, keeping a brisk walking pace to keep up.

The board slows to a crawl and I waver, stopping when I grab his arm again and letting out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "That's not too bad I guess," I exhale.

He chuckles. "Do you wanna try riding towards me alone this time?"

Please no. "Okay," I squeak out.

Kirishima stands a good 10 meters away from me. Starting from the pole, I push off towards him and balance myself across. When I approach him, he raises his hands up for me to hold onto and walks backwards to match my speed. "Just step off now."

As soon as I take my back foot off, the front tips forward into the ground. The mini sensation of falling makes me yelp and lean into him reflexively.

A snicker leaves his lips. "Not really a successful stop, but at least you did it."

I look up, about to say something snarky, but I realize how close we are to each other. His eyes bore into mine, and I notice he has a small vertical scar on his right eye. I'm about to reel back for staring before he grips my hands tighter and brings them down to get closer. My heart thumps in my ears, body still shaking with adrenaline.

"You know, it won't take just a single day to skate well, you need to practice at it." His eyes relax into a half-lidded state, one side of his lips lazily turned up slightly.

"Yeah..." I want to curse myself for such a dumb response. The smell of his wooded cologne wafts from his hoodie.

He bites his lip and glances down at mine briefly and his voice drops an octave. "Would you like it if we kept this up? Maybe tomorrow?"

Without thinking, I nod slowly.

"Maybe we can grab something to eat together?" he tips his head, "Like a...date?"

My face flushes. Oh, this is happening. I nod again, not trusting my voice to do anything but scream.

A low chuckle resounds from him throat and he quickly brushes a finger to my cheek. "You're cute. I'm glad you wanna see me again too."

My chest throbs at the compliment, eyes dropping to the ground.

Another melodious laugh and he lets go of me, grabbing his board that rolled a few feet away. "Come on, I'll walk you back to your dorm."

I hang back, dazed after what just happened. The adrenaline is slowly emptying out of my system and my heart is trying to normalize, but replaying how close we were a few moments ago kicks everything back into gear.

"You coming?" he calls from behind. Seeing my disorientation, he smiles teasingly. "Have you lost your balance to walk too? Here," he clasps his free hand with mine gently, "I'll help you."

A new tremor of warmth flows through me. Oh.

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #college!AU #kirishima fluff #gender neutral reader #kirishima imagine #kirishima scenario #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

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echos-orchard · 3 years

Text

Equinox, Chapter 1

...so...I'm rewriting an old story of mine, and was actually pretty proud of the results of the first chapter so...yeah!

Equinox is the story of Chloe and Orion, newfound friends who find themselves struggling for survival after a geometric disaster.

The human mind, a dark and dangerous place...or at least it can be. It’s almost taunting sometimes, how it exploits our deepest fears and insecurities...regrets.

Chloe sat in silence, listening to her psychology teacher ramble on about god knows what. Honestly, she knew that this would probably be on the test, and that she should be paying more attention- but she just couldn’t. Instead, she continued to doodle in her sketchbook- a concentrated look on her face.

“Psst, hey,” she heard the whisper of a boy's voice. It was probably one of her classmates asking a question to someone- or seeking the attention of a friend while the teacher was distracted. She continued to draw in silence, stuck within her own little world.

“Chloe, incoming!” the same voice whispered, a tad louder this time. She looked up, and was about to ask him what he wanted, when the teacher came and scooped up her sketchbook, idly flipping through and saying something about how it was a fine example of personality, but Chloe was far too embarrassed to listen. Mrs.Hemingway turned the book showing the rest of her students- Chloe’s peers, the weird stuff she would doodle in her free time.

The teacher placed the book back down on the desk with a smirk before walking back to the front of the classroom...what a bitch. Chloe placed her head in her hands, face redder than a beet. She could hear some of her classmates snickering, of course this would happen. The bell rang, Chloe practically threw her book bag behind her, and sprinted out of the room into the already growing mass of students flooding the halls.

Lunch time was usually a time for friends to meet up, talk about life, and have fun together in a crowded lunchroom, but Chloe wasn’t about that shit. When she first transferred to this school two months ago to start her senior year, she made a vow to herself that she would never ever eat in that vomit inducing, disease ridden room. Instead, everyday she would go outside and read instead of eat- because fuck people, and fuck overpriced school lunch. Even so she was happy with her schedule. She would sit and read in silence, free from all the annoying assholes she went to school with. She was allowed to be lost in her own little world for forty five minutes before returning to hell.

Chloe sprinted down the stairs to the first floor, where most of the students had already filed out. Taking a few deep breaths, she stopped in front of the bathroom, walking in cautiously. She checked every stall to make sure that they were absolutely empty, no one else needed to see her mess. She looked at herself in the mirror, sleep deprived dark brown eyes pooling with hurt and anger, her black hair that went down to the middle of her back was disheveled, all around she just looked fucking terrible.

She took a shaky breath. What the actual fuck? Why would her teacher do that? Everyone knew Mrs.Hemingway was a bitch but seriously!? It took everything in her power not to cry, but hey, she managed. Chloe combed her hands through her hair, trying to smooth out the previously perfect braid she once had, honestly just trying to regain her composure. She rinsed her face with cold water, reapplied her lip balm, readjusted her black sweater and skinny jeans, just doing some self care after that stressful situation. After calming down, she left the bathroom, entering the empty hallway- or well almost empty. A boy stood awkwardly reading a few feet away, on the opposite side of the hall, smiling ever so slightly. Though the content smile made the situation ever more strange seeing as he was reading outside the girls bathroom? The boys room was down the hall.

The dude had some decent height on him, Estella had to fucking look up to meet his eyes so.... He stood about six foot or six foot one or two?, while she herself stood about five foot five, which was a tad shorter than most of the girls around her school. He wore a red and white varsity jacket over a black t-shirt and some jeans. The guy had a mess of honey blonde hair and bright blue eyes that were looking down at a book he was slowly flipping through, no no not just any book. Chloe’s sketchbook. Fuck. This. Shit! How did he even get that, she was sure she had put it in her bag. What did he come to tease her about it or something!? Don’t fucking think so. Chloe snatched the small book from his hands, squaring her shoulders, and looking him dead in the eyes.

The boy seemed taken aback for a second before smiling at her, “Sorry I didn’t really mean to snoop I just...you’re a killer artist dude!”

Chloe narrowed her eyes, gazing at him warily. Huh? The fuck did this man just say? Her drawings were trash, what was he thinking of pulling here? The jock stuck out his hand, “I’m Orion Berry, you’re Chloe Anderson, right? We have a few classes together!” He said cheerfully.

Chloe shook his hand cautiously, honestly just confused about who the fuck this kid was, and why he was talking to her, if not just to bully her. “Yeah nice to meet you, sorry I’m a bit busy right now” Chloe mumbled, walking past him towards the double doors that led outside.

Apparently he didn’t quite catch the hint. Orion followed her, talking on and on about who the fuck knows what, Chloe wasn’t really listening. She sighed, fed up with this shitty day and this annoying kid she didn’t know or want to talk to, following her like a lost puppy...maybe this was why she had no friends actually. Chloe continued walking toward her usual spot on the bench in the courtyard, tuning out the overly excited jock to her left.

“Sorry Orion, I actually need to meet up with some friends now, I really shouldn’t keep them waiting anymore” Chloe fake laughed, trying to get him to leave her alone.

“But you don’t have any friends Chlo-…” The boy blurted out, it only took a second for his eyes to widen and throw his hands over his mouth. ...okay ouch.

Chloe stopped in her tracks, “Excuse me?” she said, a sad melancholy filling her voice.

“I have plenty of friends you douche!” She raised her voice slightly, catching the attention of some passersby.

Orion flung his hands off his face, shaking them panickedly “No no no no that’s not what I meant to say, I just have never seen you hanging out with anyone before-”

“So what, you have been stalking me too!?” Chloe was both absolutely pissed with this kid, and sad at how obviously lonely she apparently was. Orion looked genuinely apologetic, but she didn’t even care, she wanted to but she has had such a shitty day. Her mother yelled at her that morning, and it was raining so she came in late and soaking wet. She forgot her math homework at home, was teased by a group of girls at her locker, had a sore throat from crying the previous night and was off key in choir because of it, and then she was embarrassed in front of her entire psychology class, and the day still wasn’t over!

“No! We have a lot of classes together, I told you earlier! I just assumed- I’m sorry!” Orion tried to defend himself desperately. He definitely did not need a rumor flying around calling him a stalker.

Chloe took a deep breath, “What. Do. You. Want.” She spoke clearly and harshly. Orion frowned and faltered for a minute. “I just wanted to be your friend...you looked like you were having a hard day, and Hemingway obviously didn’t help... I’m sorry.”

Fuck. Now she just feels bad. He didn’t want her to be stressed out and all alone. God fucking damn it. She sighed and put her face in her hands. “Well why didn’t you say anything before now?” she gritted out.

“I...I did? Just a few minutes ago?” He mumbled. Of course. Of course he did. Right, when she wasn’t paying attention. I mean this wasn’t all her fault, right?...no it totally was, one hundred percent.

“Okay fine. You can tag along or whatever, just like shut up and yeah...sorry” She gave in. Orion brightened up a little, and the two of them walked in silence to the courtyard. Once she got there, Chloe collapsed onto the bench and closed her eyes. Orion smiled and sat by her. They sat there in awkward silence for a good few minutes, Chloe could feel his eyes on her and she sighed.

“What do you want?” she asked, meeting his bright blue eyes.

“What’s your favorite animal?” He responded innocently, a strange sense of wonder in his eyes.

“I don’t know, maybe like a panther, or owl, or something.” She replied. Then she sat there and answered questions for thirty minutes. She actually didn’t even mind it, he was pretty fun to hang out with. What the fuck? Chloe couldn’t believe how much of a bitch she was being to him earlier, that was kind of fucked up.

Still part of her struggled to believe it. He had to be planning something, maybe talking to her as a dare? When lunch ended they walked to class together, Orion still being his happy self and Chloe being tired as fuck but whatever.

When Orion said they had a lot of classes together, Chloe was expecting maybe two, not like the entire day...EXCEPT two. Honestly she did start feeling better, after completing her work in history she ranted about her day, it was nice to have someone listen. Orion even seemed happy to listen, and offered her some advice. They just kinda vibed and worked together all day. ...It was nice, unexpected, but nice.

The final bell had rung and Orion was still sitting and talking. “Can I walk you home Chloe?” He gently asked.

“Absolutely not.” She laughed. Orion whined for a second before pouting.

“But why not?

“Well first off I said no, second off I just met you, and third I said no, fuck you” Orion laughed at her response.

“Well what are you doing later?” He asked cheerily.

“Studying, drawing, chores, the usual I guess. What about you?” Chloe said, honestly vibing with her new found...friend? Adopted son? She would totally adopt this dumb puppy.

“Visiting my little brother before his surgery.” Orion responded absentmindedly.

“Is he sick, or injured, or something?” Chloe questioned.

“His name is Oliver, he’s like twelve, he’s getting a tumor removed later today”

“Oh, I hope it goes well.” She responded empathetically.

Orion smiled and thanked her. “We should hang out soon though, yeah?” Chloe tilted her head to the side “Do you have something in mind?”

“How about we go to the movies?”

Chloe nodded, “I’m free Friday?”

”Sounds good! See you tomorrow Clo!” Orion said, walking out of the classroom, a slight skip in his step. ...Bro...Did she just agree to a date? Is she going on a date? Or like a friend date? Are they hanging out as friends...or? Chloe’s face flushed, no, no way it was just a friendly outing, they had literally just met. Either way she couldn’t help but smile.

...

God, she wished things could have just stayed that way.

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schneesisterss · 4 years

Note

oh bees schnees prompts, excellent!! au where weiss went dancing with the bees + fnki after all 💕

This got a little spicy. Thanks for the prompt! I had a great time writing it :)

You can also read it on ao3 here

Enjoy!

/////////////////////

Weiss sat at the bar in the dance club. There was a man sitting next to her, talking, trying to keep her attention. She couldn't tell you his name. His voice was muffled by the music, barely registering in Weiss’ mind. She was too transfixed by the site in front of her. Her heart thumped in rhythm with the heavy bass. On the dance floor, not twenty feet from where Weiss was watching, Blake and Yang were dancing.

Yang had her whole front flushed against Blakes back as they moved together. Blake's hand was curled around the back of Yangs neck, tugging her in close until they were sharing air. Yang's hands roamed possessively around her hips, guiding, leading.

Weiss was having a hard time breathing. She had known there was something going on between the two, but to see it happening right before her… Weiss squashed down the feeling of envy. She tore her eyes away with a heavy swallow just to turn and wave down the bartender. Weiss didn't drink, for obvious reasons, but right now she desperately needed a glass of water.

Team FNKI was around here somewhere too. She vaguely remembers Neon telling her they were going to go out back for a smoke. She asked Weiss if she wanted to come, but she distractedly declined, focused solely on the movements of her teammates.

(Neon had given her a knowing look, but Weiss didn't see it.)

Weiss doesn't know how she was convinced by the other two to tag along. She was supposed to go to the movies with Oscar and Jaune. Maybe it was the bright and hopeful look on Yang's face when she extended the invitation to Weiss. Maybe it was Blake offering to do her makeup, her smile soft but her eyes fiery. Weiss found she couldn't say no.

“-and so maybe you could come to my place tonight?”

Weiss blinked. She had actually forgotten about the man sitting next to her.

“What?”

No-name man smirked, like he thought he was flustering her, and turned his body towards her in the chair. Weiss wrinkled her nose as the smell of his cologne wafted through the air, invading her senses.

“Come on,” he said cockily, “let's go back to my place. I can show you a good time.”

“No thanks.” Weiss clipped, grabbing the glass of water the bartender handed her way, drinking about half, before setting it down. “I’ll pass.”

An annoyed look passed over the man's face as he narrowed his eyes. “So what, you're not even gonna give me a chance? I even bought you a drink.”

Weiss looked down to the counter. He had bought her a drink. Granted, it was untouched and she didn't even realize it was there until he just pointed it out. He must've done that when she was… distracted earlier.

Weiss stiffened when she felt his hand slide onto her lower back. His hands felt too big, too commanding. Weiss felt herself freeze up.

“No.” She said firmly, straightening her spine and stepping away, only for him to follow. “Look, I'm here with my friends. I'm not interested.”

“Lets go dance then, maybe I can change your mind.” He grabbed her wrist and tugged her forward. Weiss dug her heels into the ground.

“Let go of me!”

“Hey what's your probl-” He was cut off when a couple things happened at once.

One, something, or rather someone, grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked him backwards, sending him reeling away. And two, she was embraced with soft hands, one curling protectively around her waist and the other softly circling the same wrist the man had grabbed. It took her a couple seconds to actually register what happened.

Yang was standing in front of the man, her eyes had flickers of red bleeding into purple.

“What the hell!” The man got up in Yang's face.

“Back off.” Yang snarled, Weiss could tell she was holding back, if the clenched fists at her side were any indication.

A brush of a thumb across Weiss’ wrist drew her attention to her side. Blake had wrapped herself around Weiss. Positioning herself so she was in between the man and the smaller girl. She wasn't paying attention to what was going on behind her, knowing Yang could handle it.

She was searching Weiss’ face for any sign of harm or discomfort. “Are you ok?”

Weiss blushed, the close proximity making her stomach flop. “Yes, I'm fine. He just couldn't take a hint.”

“Why were you alone, where's Team FNKI?” Blakes eyes scanned the bar behind her.

“Hey,” Weiss said, drawing Blakes attention back to her with a touch to the arm wrapped around her. “I’m fine, I promise. I can take care of myself you know.”

Blakes ears flattened against her head. “I know I just-”

“What’s a Schnee doing in a place like this anyways?” The man's voice was loud and irritated. Weiss felt her heart sink a little, no matter how hard she tried, she could never unlink herself to that name. He was still in Yang's face, but the other girl seemed more annoyed than angry now, her eyes back to their normal color.

“Just leave us alone dude.”

The man squared his shoulders, sizing Yang up. Uh oh. That wasn't going to go over well.

Weiss decided to step in. She stepped around Blake, but stayed close to the Faunus so she still had her arm wrapped around her. “Look, just please go, we don't want to cause anymore trouble.” Yang took a step back to fill in the space on the other side of Weiss, bracketing her in.

The man's eyes jumped between the three of them before setting on Blake. They slide from the arm around Weiss’ middle to her ears on top of her head. He scoffs. Weiss feels Blake stiffen and Yang's aura spike.

“Seriously? This must be some type of joke. You of all people, here with a Faunus?” He laughed bitterly. “Didn't know a Schnee would stoop so low.”

Weiss felt anger swell inside her. She felt it bubble up until her face was red. She felt Yang too, her aura flaring up dangerously. She was about to step forward to give that man a piece of her mind, but before either of them could do anything, Blake stepped in front of him first.

She leveled the man with a deadly look. Her shoulders were pushed back and the ears on top of her head were perked up, proud. Weiss always somehow forgot how tall Blake actually was. The man took half a step back.

“Leave. Now.”

Her tone was level but Weiss could still hear the silent threat beneath it. The man must've too because he huffed giving a small “whatever” before turning and pushing his way through the crowd.

“Asshole.” Blake muttered, turning back to her teammates. Her hand automatically reached for Yang, as if she didn't even notice she was doing it. Similarly, Yang reached her hand out as well, grasping Blake's forearm lightly, like it was second nature for them to seek each other's comfort.

What shocked Weiss though, was that Yang had just as easily slug her other arm around Weiss’ shoulders and how Blake had yet to pull her arm away from her hip.

“Come on let's grab a table.” Yang said, leading them both away from the small crowd that had formed around them.

_____________

They found a booth in the back, one that circled all the way around making the sitting area a ‘U’ shape. Plenty of room for three people to have their own space. So, Weiss couldn't for the life of her understand why they were all squished together on one side. She wasn't necessarily complaining. Blake was in the seat closest to the opening of the table, her thighs were pressed up against Weiss’ and her heart jumped every time Blake would lean in close to talk. Yang was on her other side, arm over the back of the booth, her fingers lightly brushing against Blakes shoulder. Weiss could feel Yang's heat radiating off her, making her want to lean back into her chest, tuck her face into her neck. Weiss felt something in her chest. Something that was definitely toeing over the friendship line.

Weiss was having a hard time concentrating to say the least. She can hear her teammates having a conversation, the music less loud being further away. She thinks they’re talking about Ironwood? She should probably focus.

“I don't know Blake, it just feels wrong, hiding everything.” Yang's voice. “Atlas should be prepared, even if that means telling the people in charge.”

Weiss heard Blake sigh. “Could we not talk about this now?”

Yang raised her hands in fake surrender. “Alright, alright.” She lifted her glass of water to her mouth, finishing off the rest.

Blake must've noticed they were all running low because she gets up and gathers their glasses. “I’ll go get us some more water.”

Weiss nodded in response. For a few minutes they sit there quietly, listening to the subtle thump of the music. Weiss feels a hand on her thigh, warm and gentle, but also firm.

“You ok there, princess?”

Weiss jumped when she felt Yang's breath ghost over the shell of her ear. Yang's arm had moved from the top of the seat and now rested on her shoulders pulling her in. Weiss wanted to lean in, to tilt her head to give Yang access to her neck. Yang's proximity and this realization made her breath hitch. She wasn't looking at Yang's face but she was pretty sure she was smirking.

“I’m perfectly fine. Just.. thinking.”

“Oh yea? About what?” Yang's low tone made her look over. Her eyes were somewhat lidded as she scanned Weiss’ face. When Weiss swallowed, she watched Yang's eyes track the movement down her throat. Weiss felt like she was on fire.

Weiss exhaled as she tried to come up with a response.

“I..”

“Hey guys! Whats up?”

Weiss jerked back from Yang and whipped around. Neon and Flint had made their way over to the table, inviting themselves to sit on the other side of the booth.

“Hey you two.” Yang said casually, as if her and Weiss hadn’t been close to making out a few seconds ago. “Where's Kobalt and Ivori?”

Flint responded, “Went home, they have a mission tomorrow they need to prepare for.” Yang hummed in response.

Neon leaned over the table resting on her elbows as she looked at Yang. “How's your night going firecracker?” She asked with a wink.

Weiss bristled. Yang let out a chuckle. “It's been interesting for sure.”

Weiss looked up when Blake silently returned, setting down their glasses on the table. She gave only a slight “hey guys” to Flint and Neon before settling back into Weiss’ side, not wanting to interrupt the conversation.

“Well with you, things are always interesting I'm sure.” Neon said, with a flirtatious wave of her hand. Weiss had to suppress an eye roll. Really?

“Something wrong kitty-cat?” Apparently, Blake didn't bother suppressing the urge.

It was Blake’s turn to bristle. “No, nothing.” Blake’s body language told her otherwise.

Neon's eyes scanned the three of them, a small, mischievous smile made its way into her face.

“What do you say firecracker, wanna hit the dance floor?”

Somehow, Weiss felt all three of them tense up. No. Absolutely not. Weiss thought. But who was she to tell Yang otherwise? She wasn't her girlfriend. Weiss sat back, leaning into Yang's arm, bitterly glaring at the girl across the table, but didn’t say anything. Weiss snuck a glance at Blake. She had a neutral expression on her face but her ears were pinned back defensively.

(Blakes ears always gave up what she was feeling, even if her face never did. Weiss would think later about how pretty she looks without her bow.)

Before anyone snapped though, Yang spoke up to answer Neon's question.

“Actually, the three of us were just about to go dance. Maybe next time?” Yang added the last part out of courtesy.

Neon however, didn't seem too hurt by this statement at all as she sat back in the booth. She scanned over the three with a small smirk on her face.

“Don't worry, I get it.”

“Get what?” Weiss heard her voice go up an octave and tried not to cringe.

Neon just casually shrugged, looking pointedly at the places the three girls were linked together. Blakes body leaning into Weiss, Weiss tucked closely into the crook of Yang's side, Yang's arm hanging loosely over both of their shoulders, completing the circle.

Neon threw them all a wink then turned to her partner. “Come on Flynt, I don't think we’re invited on their date.”

Flynt chucked and tipped his hat to the other three. “Have a great night ladies. Get out there, that dance floor is waiting for you.”

The three girls watched the two walk away in shock. It was a few minutes before one of them spoke again.

“So,” Blake cleared her throat, “you guys wanna go dance?”

“Yes.”

“Oh absolutely.”

_________________

It started out light and fun. The three girls moving around happily with each other to the music, giggling and poking fun. Yang was a surprisingly great dancer. She was showing off her moves while Blake laughed behind her hand and Weiss pretended to be annoyed.

That changed when the music did. Going from upbeat and poppy, to low and sultry with a heavy base line. They were already standing close to one another. Weiss felt the atmosphere around them change instantly.

Blake, to Weiss’ surprise, made the first move. Stepping in close and pulling Weiss in by the hips so they were facing each other. Weiss instinctively raised her hands to Blakes shoulders, palms resting on her collarbones.

Blake bent over a bit and Weiss had to tilt her head back so she could keep eye contact. She felt Blakes heart hammering against her palm. She slid her hands up and around Blakes neck, locking them together.

She was so focused on the girl in front of her that she didn't notice Yang coming up from behind. She gasped when Yang's warm front pressed against her. She yanked Weiss’ hips back into hers, Blake being dragged forward in the process too, until they were all melded together.

Yang started to move, swaying slowly behind her, her hands encouraging Weiss to follow her movements. Weiss felt heat in her chest, filling her up then poring lower. Her hands tightened around Blakes neck and pulled her impossibly closer until their legs slotted together.

Weiss’ senses were overloaded as two sets of hands were on her body. Yangs’ stayed grounded on her hips, controlling how she moved. They squeezed and rubbed, but stayed there, radiating heat. She was having a more difficult time keeping track of Blakes hands. Currently, one was on her rib cage and the other was sliding up, up, until long fingers held her chin. When they tightened and forced her head up, she closed her eyes and exhaled heavily, too overwhelmed. She could feel Blakes breath on her face.

When she felt a hand leave her hip she forced her eyes open. She watched with lidded eyes as Yang reached over her to grip the back of Blakes neck over her own hands. Even if she couldn't see Yang, she could tell the two girls were giving each other heated eyes, if Blakes jaw-slacked look was any indication.

Unable to stop herself, Weiss leaned forward and ran her tongue along Blakes exposed collar bone. She heard the Faunus gasp loudly.

“Hey.” Yang's voice was hoarse. “As much as I want this to continue, we’re drawing a crowd.”

That seemed to lift the haze over Weiss’ eyes momentarily. She looked around. There was a fair amount of people staring at the three. Weiss did her best to shoot them all an irritated look.

Blake took a half step back, but didn’t pull away completely. Weiss watched with interest as she and Yang had a silent conversation over her shoulder. Apparently they came to a non-verbal agreement and when Blake looked back to Weiss, Yang was already pulling away.

“Lets go outside?”

Weiss couldn't use her words just yet, so instead, she wrapped her hand around Blakes wrist, the one that was now cupping her face, and nodded.

Yang grabbed Blakes hand leading them away. Blake put her other arm around Weiss and pulled her close to her side as they walked outside, ignoring all the eyes that followed them.

____________

The cold Atlas air felt great on Weiss’ skin. She hadn't realized how sweaty the three of them got in there. They were in the back alley behind the dance club, she could still hear the muffled music coming from the closed door. The only light shining from the broken moon above them, dimly lighting the alleyway.

The three were only outside for a few seconds before Weiss was pushed lightly into the brick wall behind her. She looked up to see Blake, arms placed on either side of her head on the wall. She watched the other girl swallow heavily as her eyes were locked onto Weiss’ lips.

“What do you think kitten?” Yang wrapped both of her arms around Blakes middle and rested her chin on her shoulder.

Blake tilted her head a bit, never looking away from Weiss’ face. Even with the cold air around them, Weiss still felt hot under the pair's heated gaze.

Finally finding her voice, Weiss started to speak up.

“I…” She took a breath and tried again. “I’m sorry. I didn't mean to take it so far, I just..” Weiss felt too many emotions bubble up inside her. Most notably, longing.

She grabbed the lapels of Blakes coat and pulled her in. “I want you.” She found she couldn't speak above a whisper. The raw emotion in her voice making it hard to breath. She looked over Blakes shoulder to look at Yang. “Both of you.”

Weiss’ chest felt tight from being so open, vulnerable. She didn't plan for this to take an emotional turn. She felt tears well up in her eyes, threatening to spill over.

It was Yang that bridged the gap this time, reaching out with her robotic arm to cup Weiss’ face gently, running her thumb over her cheek to wipe away a stray tear.

“We want you too.” Though Yang spoke it quietly, Weiss heard it as a scream. Relief washed over her in waves. She took a shaky breath and more tears spilled from her eyes.

Blake gently pulled her in to rest Weiss’ head in the crook of her neck as she cried softly. Weiss gripped the back of Blakes coat and reached out blindly with her other hand to do the same to Yangs, fisting the front of her shirt and pulling her closer, until they were all huddled together in an embrace.

They stayed there until Weiss’ tears had dried and her white-knuckled grip on the two loosened. She pulled away and looked them both in the eyes, noticing that both sets were watery.

“Okay.” She said softly as Yang pressed her forehead into hers. “Okay.”

They all jumped when suddenly the alarms blared through the streets of Mantel. Lights turning red around them, signaling trouble.

“Shit,” Blake said through gritted teeth, looking around, “Grimm.”

They all looked back at one another, taking a moment to cherish the last couple seconds they had.

Weiss straightened up and nodded at the two. “Okay.” Determination heavy in her voice. They all turned to run from the alley, loading their weapons in the process.

Later, they would have time, just for them. Right now, it was time to do their jobs.

#bees schnees week #bees schnees #blake x weiss x yang #bees schnees prompt #rwby #rwby v7 #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #neon katt #flynt coal #team fnki #mine #my writing #bumbley #monochrome rwby #freezerburn

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writing-the-end · 4 years

Text

LoL Chapter 3- Gildara

Master Post

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

In the Northern fields of Lairyon, Gildara waits for the Order of Hermits. The land around them is different...dying. Is this what the Magistrate sent them to discover? What kind of creature, what kind of plague causes this? The only way for them to find out is by going deeper- literally.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

“It’s like a sea of grass. Look at how it rolls like waves.” Scar whistles, watching wheat dancing in the wind.

Doc nudges Grian. “I see where you stole your hair now.”

Grian takes off after Doc, shrugging off the hybrid’s attempt to puppeteer him and tackling into the ground. Iskall steps over the two, deep in conversation with Ren. The two share a fistbump, before Iskall casts his magic circle. A molded rod of radioactive material, which he’s dubbed iskallium, appears before them. Iskall grabs his creation and gives it a flourish. Ren attempts to mimic Iskall’s magic, his own magic circle starting red before turning a muted green.

Just behind Iskall and Ren practicing, Cub, Scar, and Joe are deep in a conversation about the land around them. Wide fields of wheat, surrounded by row after row of carrots, potatoes, and more. This is the breadbasket of Lairyon. At the edge of the fields that surround the road, tall pines loom at the base of rocky mountain climbs. They’re south of Foresta, yet to cross Turtle River, but still within the fertile soil that the city is known for.

A shadow passes over the traveling guild, before red wings flap to the ground. Tango turns around, red eyes anguished as he grips his flaming hair. TFC notices the body language of their scout, and steps forward. The entire road goes quiet, the guild the only travelers on this route. “What did you see?”

“Its… I don’t know how to explain it. It’s big.” Tango’s wings fold away and disappear.

“The monster?” Zed asks, creeping closer to his friend.

“The destruction?” Impulse adds, following. Both trying to comfort Tango. He looks like he’s on the verge of tears.

Tango shakes his head, his fiery hair half a step slower than his initial movement. “It looks like a black scar, like a dark bruise against the land. But nothing is destroyed. It- I can’t describe it, man. You just gotta keep walking. We’ll see.”

And so they do. Tango seems shocked by what he saw, and the hermits try to ease his fears. With time, the emotions are eased and everyone relaxes when Tango can smile again. They’re more than just a guild. They’re a family. Most of them only have each other, and as chaotic as their guild can be, they’ll do anything to make sure each person is happy and safe. They care about each other, comfort each other.

Ren stays near Tango, telling jokes and stories to keep up everyone’s morale. His brown ears prick up as he hears a change in the wind around him. He feels something brush against the skin of his feet, and looks down. “Whoa, my dudes.”

Everyone stops, turning to look at Ren. He’s gazing beyond his sandaled feet, to the ground. A swirl of grey, clawing along the dirt like a vine reaching for a tree to choke from life, reaches out towards the gilded fields and verdant forests. Ren scrapes the sole of his shoe against the dirt, trying to scrape away the ash. But no matter how deep he digs, it remains monochrome. And it’s growing before their very eyes.

Another skein of grey reaches past Joe’s feet, and he hops away from the strange phenomenon. He shivers, pulling his cape closer to his body. Despite being a warm summer day in north Lairyon, he feels like an icy breeze has just dug right into his bones. Into his core, striking at his heart and soul. He looks around, but Stress is nowhere near him.

“There’s more.” Scar whispers, pointing down the road. The creeping darkness reaches out towards them. Out from Gildara. “This has to be that ‘discrepancy’ that the magistrate spoke of.”

TFC bites his lip, but nods for the team to move forward. “Keep a tight watch, gang. Report anything out of the ordinary.”

They continue forward, walking into the monotone ground. Around them, the fields wither to ashen plains. BDubs steps off the road, picking up a stalk and looking closer at it. The color looks like it was burned, but he can still see each individual grain on the wheat. It looks like it wilted, poisoned or left without the ability to grow. The entire field looks the same way. Every field. Dead farms on colorless land.

The small town of Gildara rises in the distance. Tucked against the safety of a pine forest, with the open plains as it’s front yard. A short bridge rises over a dried creekbed into the village.

“It looks like they had a drought.” False whispers, pressing forward with the braver souls. Mumbo and Jevin slip into the middle, spooked by the village.

“It’s not a drought.” Grian responds, fingers playing with the ash colored needles of a tree. “These trees still look like they got a recent rain. That creek should be flowing.”

“And things just beyond this grey stuff are well fed.” Zedaph adds.

“Guys?” Iskall calls out, hurrying back to the group as they continue through the monochrome town. “Wh-where is everyone?”

TFC stops, looking around. The town is small, but the houses look warm and welcoming. With large windows and open porches, but not a soul is to be seen. There’s no voices, no wails or whimpers. Not even a birdsong. No bodies, no bonfires. Doors remain closed, but shops are propped open, inviting customers to peruse wares. It’s like the entire town just simply...vanished. Everyone, every moving creature is gone.

“Cleo?” TFC looks over his shoulder, but she’s already on it. Turquoise blue magic wisping and waving across the open air, Cleo’s arms and fingers moving in a choreographed series until the spell is cast. But the circle goes nowhere, hanging in the dead air with nothing to attach to.

“There’s no bodies anywhere. No ghosts either. There’s nothing.” Cleo reports, letting the magic fizzle away. Beneath her, the ash colored ground sparks and swirls.

“It doesn’t look like a monster or bandits came through.” Xisuma notes. “There’s no sign of a fight, no claw marks or blood even.”

“So where is everyone?” Keralis rubs his arms, looking around. He coughs, his throat feeling tight and lungs feeling heavy, his body exhausted. Like a storm is moving in, the wall of high pressure sending them into lethargy. Well, most of them. Grian gets excited, but even now he looks pressed.

“Let’s check town center. If there’s anywhere we’ll find clues, it’ll be there.” TFC points down the road. The guild stays silent, as silent as the world around them. Devoid of color, until one of them looks up the mountainside. Beyond the clawing darkness, they can still see the dark green of alpine forests. The further into town they walk, the more the pressuring feeling rises. Like they’re being crushed, like air trapped deep within a mountain. Far underground, and just as dead and unmoving. Even the wind has stopped blowing.

“What is that?” Etho questions, pointing towards the well at the center of the town square. The grey turns as black as ink, crawling free from the stone well and dispersing out into the grey blemish across the land. Etho tries to slip into the shadow of the darkness, but there’s nothing. It’s not a shadow- this is something else.

Cub peers down the well, into the dark hole. “It’s coming from the water supply. Are we sure this isn’t some plague or poison?”

“It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen.” Doc points out. Beside him, Scar activates his magic and creates a series of steps. Down the well’s stony walls, the hermits descend into darkness. Into the maws of the beast.

“Anybody got a light?” False questions, the only visible thing before her being Cub and Scar’s eyes as they glow a faint blue.

“I got it.” Impulse pushes Tango forward, his hair illuminating the cave system they are within. Following the underground stream that terraforms the rock.

Tango sighs. “I think I can do better than just my hair, man.” He draws his scrawling magic circle, summoning up flame that dances just above his hand.

“And this is why having the explosives mage and a fire mage living in the same house is a bad idea.” False groans, but let’s Tango take point. He directs the flame, funneling the light as best he can forward.

“Or we could just make Grian get his archangel aura.” BDubs adds.

“We’ll be blinded then.” Mumbo adds, feeling his friend shift beside him nervously. He’s still healing from the last time he used his ultimate power.

The cave around them opens up into a cavern, and Tango’s torchlight stops. Tango pulls his hand down, blowing on the flame. Trying to get the fire to burn brighter. But no matter how fierce the fire burns, it can’t make it through the darkness around them.

Because the crystal before them takes it all. Absorbs all his light, leaving none to bounce along the walls of the cave. It hurts to breathe, the air thick as water and as heavy as rocks. The crystal hovers in the air, just above the spring of water. As soon as the creek wells, it evaporates. Turns to darkened ash, neutralized by the crystal above it. Tango steps back, behind TFC. “Alright man, this is your thing. What kind of creepy crystal makes water and color disappear?”

“And what did it do to the town above us?” Cleo finishes, watching as TFC steps closer. He raises a gloved hand, pressing it against the cool, smooth crystal edge. He immediately retreats his touch, waving his hand like it burned him.

“Whatever it is, it isn’t good. We should break it, and hopefully it’ll break whatever curse it’s causing on the town.” He steps back, feeling dizzy and fatigued. His head feels fuzzy. Impulse steps up first, a bright yellow circle quickly drawn and tossed onto the crystal. Seconds later, the magic explodes and the air shocks outward.

The crystal is unharmed. Impulse tries again, this time with Ren mimicking him on the other side. The gem is as smooth as before. Xisuma steps up, snapping his fingers. But the destructive void magic is useless. Even when Ren’s imagination magic tries it’s hand in joint with Joe’s poetry, the crystal remains.

Things get more aggressive. BDubs wraps a vine around the crystal, but upon touching the gem the plants wither and turn to blackened ash. Scar tries to pierce the jewel with stone, but it falls apart like silt, raining over the guild. Finally, False gives in and charges the gem. With a two handed sword raised, she leaps and swings the blade into the ebony stone. And immediately, the metal rusts and decays.

“How do we break this?” Stress questions, picking at the rusted remains of False’s sword.

“I don’t know, but Magistrate Dolios needs to know about this.” TFC steps up, despite the sickening feeling he gets near the crystal. He feels weak, tired. Using a diamond and his magic, he’s able to break off a tiny piece. Hardly even bigger than his pinky fingernail, but the best he can do. For a second, he swears he can feel the crystal vibrate beside him. “Let’s get out of here. I don’t like this.”

The whole guild is in agreement, turning back the way they came. But the way is blocked. Grian’s face lights up as he sees the faces of farmers and villagers. “Look, this must be where the townfolk have been hiding!”

“Grian wait-” Iskall reaches out, grabbing Grian by his cloak and pulling him back. “They...something doesn’t look right.”

Tango raises his flame, trying to see the strangers. Trying to get a better look through the black and grey air. But they’re the same color, and the edges of their bodies, their fingers and limbs flaking away like embers and ash. “I… I think the crystal has grey-ificated them as well.”

The woman’s eyes snap open, revealing haunting white eyes. The iris is gone, only glowing luminosity remaining. Her hands raise up, and a magic circle appears. It doesn’t look right- her motions are sloppy and the inscriptions are poorly drawn. Magic snaps and seethes across the air, uncontrolled and uncontained.

The ground beneath the hermits feet turns soft, rock and dirt turning into quicksand and engulfing the legs of the hermits. A farmer behind the wizard raises his hand, pointing blankly to the crystal. And behind the struggling guild, the swearing and grunting to escape the mud scape, the crystal awakens. A black mist swirls around the crystal.

Then strikes towards the captured hermits.

#hermitcraft #LoL #light of lairyon #hermitblr #wizard au #wizard hermits #wizard scar #gtwscar #wizard grian #grianmc #hermitcraft au #wizard tango #wizard ren #wizard tfc #wizard cleo #tango tek #rendog #tinfoilchef #zombiecleo

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wordsysayswords · 4 years

Link

After picking Wash up on Sidewinder, it’s going to take everyone a while to get used to the new living arrangements. Especially Wash, who’s a bit directionless now that he’s finally free of the Project. Tucker doesn’t care for Blue Team’s new leader. But he can’t help noticing some of the man’s odd habits and wondering what caused them.

Part 2: Sleeping Habits

It hits Tucker that violently shaking the sleeping Freelancer out of a nightmare might be an exceptionally stupid idea at the exact same time Washington headbutts him in the nose.

Or, Wash wakes up swinging.

Tucker doesn’t know how he manages to fall asleep, but Caboose’s snoring wakes him at about 6 am. He blinks around the room, taking in the crayon drawings and machine blueprints—also drawn in crayon—plastering the walls.

Beside him, Caboose is spread-eagle on the bed, drooling into his pillow. Tucker rolls his shoulders, trying to relieve the stiffness earned from sitting up against the wall all night. His gaze falls to his deactivated energy sword in his lap.

Right.

It isn’t like Tucker forgot what happened during the night. His chest is still tight with the remnants of nightmares that had seen the incident end differently. Bloody.

Somewhere in the base, a floorboard creaks. Tucker jolts, sword flashing to life in his hand. His eyes fly to the door.

The handle doesn’t turn, the door doesn’t open. There isn’t even the shadow of feet passing by. The base is eerily silent—save for Caboose’s cartoonishly loud snores. After five minutes, Tucker’s starting to think he imagined it. He almost misses the distant sound of a door clicking shut.

Tucker listens. One minute. Two.

Pushing Caboose’s beefy arm off him, Tucker hops off the bed and tiptoes across the room. Ever so slowly, he reaches up and unlocks the door. He takes a deep breath.

He opens the door.

The kitchen is empty. So is the common area. The base feels cold and gray in the hazy morning light. The coffee pot is off, which is weird considering the unspoken rule that the first person up and about is in charge of prepping it. That’s usually Washington, what with his absolutely fucked sleep schedule.

But Tucker doesn’t want to think about Washington right now. What he wants is an ice pack for his nose because it might not be broken, but it hurts like a bitch. Deactivating his sword, Tucker grabs some ice and heads for the bathroom.

After nudging the door open to make sure a rabid Freelancer isn’t hiding inside, Tucker looks in the mirror to check the damage. Oof. The bleeding has stopped, but his shirt looks like a crime scene. Tucker hadn’t thought to grab tissues or gauze or even a medkit before locking himself and Caboose in the blue soldier’s room for the night. He gingerly inspects the colorful swelling he’s going to be sporting for a while.

He wonders if he gave Washington any bruises to add to his already sizable collection.

Tucker pulls back from the mirror and scoffs. He doesn’t give a shit about how Washington is feeling because it serves him the fuck right after almost murdering Tucker.

Tucker heads back to the common area. There’s a basket of laundry beside the door that the teal soldier hasn’t gotten around to folding. Tucker is fishing out a clean shirt to replace his blood-stained one when he notices the boots lined up neatly in the entryway. The two sets of boots.

There’s supposed to be three.

Wash’s room is empty.

The sun has barely crept above the distant glacier peaks on the horizon. There’s no snow this close to Sidewinder’s equator, but the landscape remains a tundra of frozen earth and hardy brown plants.

Tucker catches up with Washington two miles up the road, slowing the warthog to a crawl beside him.

“You goin’ my way, baby?” Tucker drawls, leaning out of the driver’s side with a wink.

Washington doesn’t stop walking. He glares ahead at the long dirt road stretching into the windswept wasteland, pointedly not looking at Tucker.

Okay, well, fuck. Dead silence wasn’t an option Tucker considered when mapping out this conversation in his head after he realized Wash had up and left. Then again, catcalling the guy hadn’t been on the agenda either, but Tucker’s mouth is always one step ahead. He’s a lot better at this whole banter thing when the other person can dish it out as good as they get. That was one of the nice things about Church. The asshole always had an answer, even if it was just “fuck you.”

“It’s cold as balls,” Tucker says, jumping on the first thing that comes into his head. “Where the hell are you going dressed like that?”

Washington is wearing the poorly fitting fatigue pants and shirt Caboose and Tucker had gifted him (though, Tucker was a lot more begrudging about it than Caboose). The Freelancer must have found the frayed military jacket somewhere in the abandoned base they’d taken over following the fight with the Meta. One of his hands holds it shut against the perpetually icy air. The other grips a sagging duffle bag thrown over his shoulder.

Washington picks up speed.

“You going somewhere?” Tucker prods, the engine of the warthog growling as he gives it just enough gas to keep Washington’s pace.

Tucker watches the man’s jaw clench, mouth set in a grim line.

Tucker sighs dramatically. “Listen, I don’t wanna have to be the one to tell Caboose that his pet ran away, so get your broody ass back t—”

“Take it!” Washington snarls, rounding on Tucker and causing him to slam breaks. Wash hurls the duffel bag to the frozen ground beside the warthog.

“Just fucking take it, okay?” Washington snaps louder, dragging a hand through his hair as he paces the road. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have taken anything, so just fucking take it, okay?”

Tucker cranes his neck out of the idling car to look down at the contents of the bag now spilled across the dirt. Two MREs and a flashlight.

Tucker doesn’t know what Washington sees in the confusion on the teal soldier’s face, but the man lets loose a harsh laugh. Washington rips off the jacket and flings that to the dirt as well.

“There,” he says, folding his arms firmly across his chest. “You have everything. Now, just fucking go.”

Tucker just sits there for a moment.

“What the—god damn it,” Tucker snarls right back, throwing the warthog in park and clambering out. “I don’t give a fuck about a flashlight and some bags of chicken-fucking-flavored rice!”

Wash has the nerve to look pissed.

“What do you want then?” He yells, throwing out his arms. “WHY THE HELL ARE YOU OUT HERE?!”

“That’s MY LINE, you ABSOLUTE ASSWIPE!” Tucker shouts back. “What are YOU doing out here? Are you actually running away?”

“What do you want? An apology? Like that’s going to fix this?” Wash shouts. “Fine! I’m sorry!”

And the words come pouring out.

“I’m sorry!” Wash yells again. “I shouldn’t have fallen asleep, but I did, and I’m sorry. Is that what you want to hear? I’m sorry I’m broken, I’m sorry I killed Church, and I’m sorry I wasted your time.”

With that, Wash drops to the dirt, the fight sucked right out of him by the outburst. He sits there, head drooping and silent save for his uneven panting.

For some reason, it hits Tucker at this exact moment that this is the longest conversation he and Washington have ever had.

“There,” Wash says finally, voice subdued. “I said it. You can go. You don’t have to worry about me anymore.” He doesn’t make any move to stand up.

Tucker actually laughs. “Seriously, dude? The nearest settlement is like 70 miles away. What are you going to do? Walk?”

“I can handle it,” Wash says dully.

“Dude,” Tucker says, pointing to Wash’s shirt. “You’re bleeding.”

Wash startles, looking down and finally noticing the slowly growing patch of blood at his side.

“Shit,” he curses, lifting the fabric to reveal a soaked square of gauze.

Tucker pulls a face. “Ugh, I thought Doc stitched you up.”

“Tore them,” Wash mumbles, pulling at the bandage to inspect the wound and face pinching at what he finds. “...Last night.”

Wash glances up at the cold, dirt road ahead and then down at the blood seeping out from around his hand pressed to his wound, frowning.

Tucker rolls his eyes and sighs. “Alright, get in.”

Wash narrows his eyes. “Where are we going?”

“To Mars,” Tucker says flatly. “Where the fuck do you think? Back to base to get your sorry ass stitched up again.”

Wash blinks. “What?”

“No, you heard me,” Tucker says, turning heel and climbing back in the car. Last night is still too fresh for him to offer the man a hand. “Get in the car.”

Still looking a little like a deer caught in headlights, Wash shakily climbs to his feet, wincing all the way. He hisses in pain bending down to pick up his things before limping around the warthog to climb in the passenger seat.

Staring straight out the windshield, Tucker grits his teeth and grips the steering wheel like it owes him money. It would be so much easier to hate Wash if he made excuses or pretended last night never happened. It’s a lot harder to hate someone when they’re standing in front of you in the cold, bleeding and apologizing for taking a coat and some meager rations. Goddammit.

“I still hate you,” Tucker blurts out, every word tasting like a lie.

Wash just nods, tired eyes still fixed on the place where the dirt road meets the horizon in the distance. He sags against the seat, pale and with sweat beading at his brow.

“Look,” Tucker says, slumping his shoulders, “I’m not stopping you from leaving. You’re a grown-ass, presumed KIA adult and can do whatever the hell you want. I just…recommend doing it with proper supplies and when you’re not bleeding everywhere.”

Wash looks over at him.

“I can leave later?” he asks quietly.

Tucker shrugs. “It’s up to you. You don’t owe us anything.”

Wash looks like he’s about to argue but seems to think better of it. He’s visibly shivering now. Tucker cranks up the heat before turning the warthog around and heading back towards base.

“Are...are you okay?” Wash asks softly.

Tucker looks over at him, taking in how he’s slumped against the seat even as his hands tightly gripped the wound. Up close, Tucker can see a ghastly bruise peeking out from under the collar of his t-shirt. Whether it’s from him or the Meta, Tucker can’t be sure.

He turns his eyes back to the road. “I’m fine,” Tucker says, even as his nose pulses in pain at the memory of the previous night.

“I should have warned you not to come near me when I’m sleeping,” Wash all but whispers.

“Is screaming like a...like an opera-singing howler monkey... normal for you?”

Wash shrugs.

“Whatever,” Tucker says. “Just try not to get blood all over the seats. I just had this thing cleaned.”

“What? How?”

“It’s a joke, Wash.” That’s weird. When did Washington become Wash?

“Oh.”

They ride in silence for a few moments before Wash speaks up again. “Tucker?”

“Hm?”

“...Thanks.”

Tucker stares straight ahead as the base comes into view. “Don’t mention it.”

#red vs blue #agent washington #lavernius tucker #rvb #fanfic #fan fic #fanfiction #fan fiction #wordsywriteswords #wordsy writes words #blue team

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alwayshaveneverholdd · 4 years

Text

★ 𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓇𝒹𝓊𝓈𝓉 || 𝒞𝒽𝑜𝒾 𝒮𝒶𝓃 ★

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★ 𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰: ballet dancer!san x female!reader, side barista!mingi & barista!mark

★ 𝓖𝓮𝓷𝓻𝓮: romance, angst, some shitty comedy

★ 𝓦𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼: mild panic attack, emotional turbulence, absolutely shit comedy by the author, a lot of emotions y’all

★ 𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓒𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 2.2k

★ 𝓘𝓭𝓮𝓪 𝓫𝔂: @starsforten

★ 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓞𝓷𝓮 ★

Your university is in the opposite direction of your workplace but for some reason you still make the hour drive out to Incheon every morning before classes just to see your coworkers and pretend to study while you’re actually watching Youtube videos. Maybe it’s the sense of family or the Dunkin’ pride, but on the rare days that you can’t make it out there, your entire day starts off with sad boi energy. But today is normal—it’s a good day, and even with the bustling ambiance of people moving to and fro on Terminal 1’s walkway around you, you have no trouble zeroing in on the dorky-looking boy standing behind the POS system at Dunkin’ Coffee House.

It’s Mark in his stupid Dunkin’ visor and he looks half-dead as he swipes the credit card of a short old man. You draw closer, readjusting your book bag strap over your shoulder with a smirk tugging your mouth in one direction. suddenly, Mingi pops up from under the espresso machine with a yelp. His back is turned to you and Mark and the aforementioned turns around to say something to him. As you approach them, you peer over the counter to see that Mingi has dropped the entire 50 lb pail of Cafiza and it looks like a billion dollars of cocaine has fallen expensively to the ground. The old man narrows his eyes at the two men who are now panicking and no longer paying attention to the front. He shakes his head and turns around to leave. You notice that there are only two other customers immersed in their work at tables a few feet away from the counter.

You snake over to the cash register to take the old man’s place, watching Mark and Mingi argue for a moment. Mingi places his gigantic hands over the visor on his head, almost completely covering the top of it. His eyes, wide and afraid, keep darting from the chemical to the cameras installed above them, spouting about how the bosses are going to fire him while Mark tells him to vacuum it up, but, “나 진공 청소기 못 해, 임마! 이거는 진공청소기로 길을 잃을 거야!” I can’t vacuum it, dude! It’ll get lost with the rest of the vacuum dirt!

“그럼 진공 청소부터 해, 멍청아!” Then clean out the vacuum first, dumbass!

“나한테 소리 지르지 마!!!” dON’T YELL AT ME!

“Welcome to Dunkin’!” You say, causing them both to turn their attention to you. “Where we dunk on our haters and have emotional breakdowns over coke.”

Mingi is the first one to shout, “아아아!” AHHHH! And you know that that’s his way of saying, “thank God you’re here!” because he’s book smart but common sense is not his forte. In your three years working with Mingi, you’ve watched him improve very slightly. Yet here he is. Still kickin’ it at Dunkin’.

Mark laughs nervously before responding, “Welcome to Dunkin’, are you ready to get dunked, ma’am?”

Taking a step or two to the side so you can lean over the pick-up counter, you gesture to the fallen Cafiza pail and calmly say, “쓸어버려, 새끼들.” Sweep it up, dipshits.

“넌 너무 시적이야,” You’re so poetic, Mingi mutters before sulking over to the broom like he’s upset that he didn’t think of that first.

While he does that, Mark sighs all the way over to you where he pretends to type something in on the POS screen. “The usual?”

“Yes indeedy, sweety.” You hand him an invisible credit card and he pretends to swipe it before turning his miserably tired eyes on you and telling you it’ll be right out. So you reach over the counter to pat his shoulder and say, “SoundCloud isn’t worth the dark circles, Mork.”

Mark’s voice crescendos into a yell as you walk away to find a table. “Yes, iT IS.”

There’s a small square wooden table right up against the divider bookshelf separating Dunkin’ from the Hooters next door. With a small laugh, you remember how upset everyone was when your old coworker Wendy quit to go work next door. Mark had deemed her and the entire Hooter’s establishment as “an enemy of the Dunkin’ brand”. But you’ve seen him peeking around the large bookcase to peep the Hooter’s waitresses. At the end of the day, sexual frustration wins over loyalty—at least for Mark. You don’t really care that Wendy went to Hooters, but you definitely enjoy saying, “Pleasant Hooter’s!” every time she leaves after you two meet up.

After setting up your laptop and making sure that it’s plugged in, you take a seat, but you don’t open up the sleek electronic device you dropped your entire first paycheck on three years ago. Instead, you look out at the terminal floor and watch people say goodbye or greet each other. A little boy runs into his father’s arms, screaming with joy as his father embraces him and picks him up. A young man you’ve never seen before holding a bouquet of red roses stands unsure a few feet away, looking around with a worried expression. You’re suddenly very aware of the thump of your heart against your rib cage because you remember. You stare at the bouquet and you remember.

You can suddenly smell the songpyeon your mother was making in preparation for Chuseok. You can see the metal door in front of you and feel the weight of the trash bag you had carried all those years ago. You yelled over your shoulder to your mother in the kitchen that you were taking the trash out before stepping outside and almost tripping over a pair of Doc Martens. He was sitting there in the stairwell, back against the wall, eyes gently closed, dry lips parted, chest rising and falling slowly—a bouquet of red roses lying limp in his hands. His bangs were in his eyes and you wanted to move them away like you always did, but you couldn’t bring yourself to touch him. You looked him over with pathetic tears welling behind your eyes. You turned away. You went downstairs to take out the trash.

“오빠!” BABY! A piercing shriek pulls you from your memory and you focus your eyes again to see a girl running toward the young man and throwing herself onto him. He barely catches her, dropping the bouquet, and she wraps her legs around his waist as she hugs him.

Your drink is set down in front of you and you look up to see Mingi staring down at you with one eyebrow raised. “친구야 왜 슬퍼?” Why do you look sad? He then turns his body back toward the counter momentarily to point to where Mark is now scrubbing the outside of the espresso machine. “우리가 화학 약품을 치웠으니까 걱정하지 마.” We cleaned the chemicals up, so don’t worry. You smile. Mingi has always vibrated such an innocence that you enjoy. You’re the same age, but you view him as a little brother. Well, a little huge brother.

After assuring him that you’re okay, he turns to go back to work and you mutter under your breath as he takes big clunky steps, “Fee-fi-fo-fum…” He towers over Mark, who hands him the sponge and directs him to finish up. Mingi just nods and begins the task given to him. “I am a giant but I am not dumb.”

You continue watching your friends, leaving your drink neglected on the table before you. Mark suddenly looks toward the front with wide-eyes, spouting apologies to the customer that walked up while you were all distracted. Mingi stands by, ready to make the drink or retrieve the donut that will be ordered. But he’s squinting at the customer like he knows him—and you have to admit the customer looks a bit familiar from behind. You think hard for a moment. Not super tall, a bit taller than Mark, dark hair, long trench coat that you know is to combat the heavy snow falling outside the windows that are blocked by a divider. You can’t really see his build because of that, but you squint now too to try and notice anything from the back of his head. You think you notice freckles, but you’re not sure. Just the thought is enough to send you into another stomach-flipping memory.

Now you can smell the fresh rain on the pavement again. You can feel the colorful dragonflies beating the shit out of your insides—the once pleasant friends that gently let you know when you were nervous were now betraying you. You can feel his warm skin under your fingertips and the wetness on your cheeks. You can hear his low voice cracking, saying, “제발 울지마—사랑한다.” I love you—please don’t cry. You can see his comforting eyes, red and wild. You lowered your lips to his neck, gently kissing the freckles you admired but never spoke of. He broke out into a sob and pulled you closer to him.

“아!” Ah! Mingi says loudly and you’re pulled from the memory again—and it’s a good thing, too, because you can feel your tear ducts throbbing, desperate for release. He points at the customer with a wide smile. “최산!” Choi San!

The walls close in on you from every direction. The seafood restaurant across the walkway, the Hooter’s to the left, the bar sitting in the middle of it all. Everything begins to shake and collapse and your lungs are punctured with each breath and they give out one-by-one and you can’t breathe and you can’t breathe and San is standing at the cash register and Mingi gestures toward you and San looks over and his eyes are still comforting but you can’t look at him so you stare down at your lap and everything is still shaking so you close your eyes because you can’t cry and you can’t think about Choi San’s freckles and Choi San’s bouquet of roses and you can’t breathe and the first time Choi San kissed you and you can’t breathe and you can’t breathe and you can’t—

“Are you okay?” You suddenly feel a cold hand on the fabric of your black dress shirt. It’s Mark because he has the coldest hands in the world and you’d know them anywhere. But it’s strangely comforting to open your eyes to Mark standing over you with on hand on your back and Mingi crouching beside you with his eyebrows drawn in. He places an apprehensive hand on your knee. He knows. You’ve never mentioned San’s name, but Mingi is smart. You know he’s figured it out.

You just now realize that you’re heaving and Mark rushes away, talking about getting water. A guilty frown spreads over Mingi’s face and he mumbles, “미안해—나는 네가 서로 아는 줄 알았는데 네가 말한 그 사람이 아닌 것 같았어.” I’m sorry—I thought you knew each other but I didn’t think he was the guy you told us about. You just focus on Mingi, afraid of what you’ll see if you look up again. And then Mark returns with the water and you gulp it down. Your breathing begins to normalize but your pulse is still rapid and the blood begins to roar in your ears because you know what you’re about to do.

Mingi stands up and says he’ll tell him to leave, but you stand in return and say, shaking, “아니. 나는 그와 얘기하고 싶다.” No. I want to talk to him.

“근데…” But…

Ignoring them both, you gently push them aside and stare straight at Choi San, who’s still standing there. He’s returning your gaze and there’s something so sullen about it. It’s raining stars in his irises. It’s been three years, so naturally, you’d freak out upon seeing him—especially considering the way things ended and the way things started. You notice a piece of luggage he’s parked next to the counter. You wonder in passing if he’s visiting or staying. Then, like doves in the fall, your thoughts flock to the void of your mind and you’re left empty and full as you approach him. Your heart is on fire and the ashes accumulate in the pit of your stomach, providing a warmth that spreads all over your body. Even after all this time, Choi San…

You know he’s worried by the way he’s looking at you. But all you can do is bite back the urge to touch his face and say, “오랜만에.” It’s been a while.

And a sad smile dances across his lips as he looks down at you the same way he did at the beginning.

“구십삼퍼센트 스타더스트.” Ninety-three percent stardust, he said as you two gazed out at the twinkling night lights of Seoul. His arm was pressed up against yours; he tilted his head up to turn his attention to the sky. “불꽃으로 만들어진 영혼들 함께, 우리는 모두 사람들의 이름을 가진 별 뿐이다.” With souls made of flames, we’re all just stars that have people names.

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heartofsnark · 4 years

Text

This Is Love (Chapter Two: Lukewarm Welcomes

Notes: Well...I was planning on posting this three days ago....but instead i vanished from the internet for a bit, a nice quarantine mental health crisis as i went into the weekend, we love that.

Word Count: 11,557

Chapter Warnings: Cursing, anti-cop dialogue, harassment, implications of domestic/family violence

For chapter one and the warnings about this fics overarching themes, please click here!

A little bell chimes over head as Dahlia steps into the registration building for the Moonflower Trailer Park, there’s little racks of magazines, pamphlets, and maps of tourist attractions. A young girl is at the desk, talking on the phone with someone as Dahlia tries to preoccupy herself with looking through things.

A plain white pamphlet draws her eye, the simplicity of it standing out among the vividly colored ones. It’s stark white with that strange cross symbol, from the signs and book, like sunbeams coming from the center of it, black text above the symbol says, ‘Eden’s Gate’ and text below it says, ‘We Love You’.

Before she can flip it open, the woman at the registration desk hangs up, calling her over with a “Miss?”

“I’m Hale, we talked on the phone, I’m here to rent a trailer.”

The woman’s eyes flicker down to the pamphlet in her hand and her nose wrinkles like she’s smelled something awful.

“You ain’t no peggie, are you?”

“A peggie?”

“Oh, shit, you really are new here, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, this was in one of your racks.”

“Damn it, I told them to stop unloading their shit here. Look, I don’t wanna scare you away from Hope County, but the peggies are fucknuts, steer clear of them.”

“They dangerous?”

“No more than most of us, but they’re major prudes and buzzkills. Like, think Jesus is gonna firebomb my ass for cumming, type buzzkills.”

“Oh, that…sucks.” She has no idea where this woman is coming to that a religious group would think she deserves hell for it, but if the woman says they’re not dangerous, it’s not really any of her business, she really just wants her trailer.

“C’mon, I’ll show you the trailer and we’ll get everything set up.”

The trailer park isn’t huge, RVs and regular trailers all over it, a little playground in the middle for the resident’s kids with a slide, swings, and a little pool. A trailer with a diner inside of it, advertising bingo, and a little station filled with washing machines and dryers. None of the trailers outfitted with them. It’s a single wide with a little porch, nothing fancy; a living room, bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen. All she needs, nothing seems damaged or out of place.

“Looks, good to me.”

“Alrighty, we’ll get your down payment and registration settled, then you can have the keys and move in whenever you feel.”

“It’ll be a bit before I move in officially,” Dahlia tells her as they step outside the trailer, a few people bustling around

“Why’s that?”

“I’m coming all the way from Louisiana, still gotta get my shit moved in.”

The woman whistles, eyes wide.

“Hell of a move, but I tell you, you won’t find anywhere as beautiful as Hope County.”

“I’m excited.”

“Hey, Darcy, we got someone new coming in?” A woman asks, holding a kid on her hip, looking Dahlia up and down.

“Yeah, we’re just getting her squared away.”

“I’m Ruth, it’s always nice to see a new face.”

“Thanks,” Dahlia awkwardly scratches the back of her head, “I, uh, really appreciate the warm welcome.”

People aren’t her strong suit, she just never feels like she knows what to say, so she’d rather not say anything.

“Shy girl, don’t worry we’ll knock that out of you, real quick. We’re like a big ole family here at the Moonflower.”

“I’ll do my best not to get in the way.”

“Pfft, fuck that, you better be out here getting piss faced with everyone else when the Boshaw’s throw their next barbecue.”

“They’ll really find any excuse to get drunk, won’t they?” Darcy laughs, running a hand through her dark pixie cut.

“I don’t even know why they still let Sharky in here, dude got banned from renting, but can still show up, do his laundry and get drunk, makes no damn sense.”

“Y’know damn well, my mom and dad don’t have the heart to ban him completely.”

“Yeah, yeah, but if he sets my trailer on fire again, we’re gonna be having another chat,” the toddler squirms, trying to break away for something, “someone is getting fussy, I’ll see ya around, stranger.”

Dahlia waves goodbye to Ruth, a smile playing at her lips. The trailer park definitely seems to be a bit on the chaotic side from the sounds of it, but the warm welcome eases her nerves. She really can see herself settling in and finding some happiness.

She goes with Darcy and takes care of the last of the details, a new key in her hand. Pride swells in her chest, it’s just a trailer, but she has her own place. She’s an adult who’s adulting.

Once everything at the Moonflower is settled, Dahlia’s back at her hotel, haphazardly tossing her things in her luggage before check out time. Always late. Everything settled, she dashes down to the reception desk, the woman has been thankfully kind about the whole sleepwalking fiasco last night. Not only did she bring Dahlia back in with a blanket, she even had the kitchen make her some hot chocolate before she went to sleep.

“You checking out?”

“Yeah, gotta rush back home.”

“Ah, we gonna see more of you in Hope County.” There’s a hopeful lilt to the woman’s voice and it makes Dahlia smile, the people in this county are really friendly.

“I’m moving here, actually.”

“That’s wonderful! Ah, I’m sure you’ll fit right in, I have some friend who I know would just adore you. Let me know once you’ve settled in.”

“Uh, will do, thanks.”

A quick wave bye and Dahlia’s headed out the door, climbing back on her back to ride the long way back to Reinette.

It’s a long way, a pit stop in Denver along the way to keep her from losing her mind from exhaustion. She finds herself at the same roach motel she stayed at along the way to Hope County, no reason to go digging for something else. It’s past midnight when she’s checked into her room and is throwing her stuff on a creaking bed, staring at a stained ceiling. She already misses the hotel in Hope County.

Her joints pop and crack as she heads to the shower; she washes and hums along to her music and she half expects the odd hallucinations to return. It’s later in the day and she’s no doubt more exhausted now than she was last night. But, nothing happens. Her eyes are the same familiar brown when she looks in the mirror, no sirens try to lure her away, and she doesn’t find herself stumbling through a labyrinth.

She wakes up the next morning in the dingy little bed and she’s back on the road as soon as she can get there. By nightfall she’s made her way back to Reinette, pulling up in front of Lloyd and Caroline’s farmhouse.

The large wooden home with warm amber light seeping out from the windows. It looks and feels like a home. Sometimes, it feels like it could be Dahlia’s.

“Stray!” Lloyd yells out as soon as she’s stepped foot inside, pulling her into a warm bone crushing hug before she can say a word. She melts into it, hugging him right back, letting the heat of him chase away the chill outside.

“C’mon, we’ve been waiting on ya,” he tells her after he reluctantly pulls away from the hug, tugging her towards the dinner table. The smell of homemade stew hitting her nose and making her stomach growl, she can’t remember a time before Lloyd and Caroline where she could come home to an actual cooked meal. She doesn’t think it ever existed.

“So, what exactly happened, something about a bar?” Caroline asks, as Dahlia begins to gobble up her food.

“Well,” she slurs out her words around her mouthful of food, unwilling to stop eating just for a conversation, “there’s some bar in Fall’s End, some jackass tried to rob it and next thing I know Whitehorse is calling me his Junior Deputy.”

“Junior Deputy?” Caroline refills Dahlia’s bowl as soon as she hears the spoon scratching against the china, her eyebrow is raised, and Lloyd looks like he’s holding back a laugh.

“Thanks, uh, I guess it’s a term they use for their rookie deputies up there.” She shrugs, the term was strange, but she didn’t give it much more thought.

Lloyd’s unable to hold back his laughter anymore, face going beet red as he bursts into chuckles. Dahlia narrows her eyes at him, unsure what exactly could be so funny.

“That’s what they call the program for the little kids, Stray, when you give ‘em cardboard badges and stickers, they’re Junior Deputies. Earl was giving you shit, you were just too dumb to notice.”

Heat crawls up Dahlia’s face, she’s not sure if it’s from anger or embarrassment. Either way, she’s not happy and finds herself throwing a dinner roll at Lloyd’s head.

“Hey. I’m not dealing with any mess,” Caroline threatens, but Dahlia is busy glaring at Lloyd.

“He knows damn well I’m not a kid.”

“No one would know just by looking at ya.”

“You waste one more roll, you’ll be doing the dishes by yourself.”

Dahlia lowers her arm and instead shoves it in her mouth, looking at Caroline as she chews it, trying to ask if she’s happy now without the words, but the older woman simply rolls her eyes.

“Look, you know damn well that hazing is part of a new job, you aren’t gonna manage to avoid it.”

“Yeah, yeah, one of the other deputies was busting my balls before I even got the job.”

“Just means they knew you’d get the job,” Lloyd says with a grin.

“I’m pretty sure he’s just an asshole.”

“You thought that about Chase, too.” Chase is one of the officers for the Reinette department, a little shit.

“Yeah and I was right, Chase is an asshole.”

“But you don’t mind it anymore.”

“Sure...we’ll go with that.”

“Was everyone there giving you a hard time?”

“Uh,” her heart seems to beat a little faster when she thinks of Hudson, what is wrong with her, “no, the other deputy was…nice…”

Caroline and Lloyd shoot each other some look, a meaning behind it that Dahlia can’t catch.

“Is something wrong?”

“Uh, no, just for some reason when I met that deputy, I just got all weird, I guess.”

“Weird?”

“Yeah, like my heart was racing, I felt like I was burning up. It was super weird.”

“Oh my god.” Caroline places a hand to her smiling mouth, looking over at Lloyd like she just struck gold.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe it.”

“Can’t believe what?” Dahlia asks, what the fuck kind of conversation are they having with their eyes, what are they freaking out about.

“I was starting to think it wasn’t gonna happen, which I mean, is fine some people just don’t feel that sort of way. But, here we are.”

“She really is growing up,” Caroline remarks, still smiling.

“I don’t know what you’re freaking out about, I’m probably just allergic to her perfume or something, I don’t know.” That makes sense, right? Why are they freaking out?

“Her?” Caroline raises an eyebrow, why does it matter? Why does any of this matter?

“Eh, lets be honest, Care Bear, are you really surprised?”

“No, but it’s nice to know, would have been nicer to know when I was trying to set her up with Susan’s boy.”

“Ugh, Susan’s boy, guy or girl Stray needs someone with more than two braincells.”

“She barely has any braincells.”

“Rude.”

“That’s exactly why she needs someone with a brain! You can’t have two idiots, that’s how someone ends up dead. You can have a smart person and another smart person, you can have an idiot and a smart person. But you can’t have two idiots, it’s a disaster in the making.”

“Hey, I’m not an idiot!”

“Look, it’s not meant to be an insult.”

“That’s literally the only way it can be meant.”

“I don’t mean that you’re stupid, you’re just…what’s the word I’m looking for Caroline?”

“Stupid.”

“I will start throwing food again.”

“Okay, okay, lets change the subject for now,” Lloyd holds his hands up in mock surrender, “that bar you were talking about in Falls End, wasn’t the Spread Eagle was it?”

Lloyd was actually born and raised in Hope County, but he left when he was around twenty-eight. He always tells the story of him moving to Reinette like it was magic, taking over an inherited farm from an estranged relative after their death, meeting Caroline, falling instantly and love, raising more foster children than Dahlia could imagine. They had just stopped taking in foster children, having adopted and raised the last one into adulthood, when Dahlia ended up in their barn. Lloyd, ever the dramatic, likened it to adopting cats and then once you’re done adopting, a stray just wanders in and adopts you.

“Yeah, you know the place?”

“Gary and Irene always use to give me and Earl discounts, it was always the first place we went after a shift.”

She can see that, so easily in her mind, the two men when they were younger leaving a long drawn out shift to let off steam in the local bar. It’s hard to imagine just how good of friends they must have been, spending time together after every workday and staying in contact even when Lloyd moved so far away. She can’t imagine having a friend like that.

“I think the woman running it was called Mary May, something like that?”

“Seriously, holy shit, Mary May was their little girl, my god she’s all grown up.”

“You’re old.”

“Thanks, Stray.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You know, we should take a trip back to Montana sometime Care Bear, it’s been a while, plus we got a new reason to visit.”

“By the way, do you know what Eden’s Gate is?” The weird religious group is still on her mind, it seems to be all over Hope County. If they’ve been there for a long while, then surely Lloyd would know what it is and who they are. He raises an eyebrow and she can practically see the gears turning in his head.

“Can’t say that I do, why you ask Stray?”

“Some religious group or something, they’re all over the county, even built a damn statue. Figured you might know what they are.”

“You mean, like the big deer statue near the Whitetail mountains?”

“No, like a statue of a dude, like their founder or some shit, dude with a manbun.” She uses her hands to pull her hair back in a little bun-esque shape, as if the visual aid is necessary.

“Yeah…that, I’ve never seen any of that, you sure, you ain’t losing it, Stray?”

“Yes, I’m very sure I’m not losing it. They don’t seem like bad folks, the one I met, but they’re definitely strange.”

“You’re not gonna go and try to find religion in Hope County, are you?” Caroline asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh fuck no.”

“I was about to say, I haven’t gotten to set foot in a church in two years.”

“I’m pretty sure she’d burst into flames.”

Lloyd and Caroline share a smile, cracking up at Dahlia’s expense as she sticks a tongue out at them.

“Hope they’re not the Jehovah Witness types, who go door to door,” Dahlia grumbles, the very thought making her stomach churn the stew inside of it. She’d rather blow her brains out then listen to someone preaching at her when she’s trying to relax.

“If they are, they’re about to meet their worst nightmare.”

She can’t help but grin, the chatting continues for a while, just enjoying a cozy night in with the couple. Before, she knows it the food is gone and the night has gone on longer than usual. Lloyd and Caroline typically sleep early, rise early, while Dahlia is more of a night owl.

But there’s an unspoken reluctance for the couple to turn in. Even as the moon hangs high in the sky, as Caroline and Lloyd yawn at the table. He even mentions playing a board game, cards, something. When she tells them to go to bed, Caroline nearly drifting off on his shoulder. She’s pulled into another hug, caring touches lingering as they finally drag themselves off to bed; tired voices slurring out goodnights.

Maybe it’s egotistical, but the hesitance seems to hint at more. An understanding that this is likely among one of the last nights she’ll spend here with them and the desire to make it drag on as long as possible. To soak in every last moment of her being here.

She knows she isn’t the greatest person to live with or even be around, that anyone should be happy to be rid of a leech like her. But, they’re far too kind for that.

Dahlia takes a slow walk to the room she’s called her own for the past two years. She hasn’t changed anything in the time she’s been here, despite how much the couple has told her she could. Piles of clothes on the floor are the only thing that could be considered her personal touch. The small bed frame creaks as she sits down on the side, a second later the door is pushed open by Lucy, Lloyd and Caroline’s border collie.

She lays a fluffy head on Dahlia’s knee and she buries her fingers into the fur, memories of the first time she held the dog. It was the first day she found herself here, hunkered down in their barn for shelter for the night, rain pouring down. She was scared that Lucy would bite her, aggressive towards a stranger. But just as kind as her owners, Lucy just shuffled herself closer to the drenched teenager, helping keep her warm through the stormy night.

She’s changed so much in these past two years.

Muscle tone and squish where was once a sack of bones, her fingers no longer able to slot in the spots between her ribs. Skin a healthier tan instead of the sickly pale it was that first night, ink now covering sections of that skin. Her first paychecks ending up in tattoos and clothes, taking control of her body and wardrobe in a way she’s never had before. For years her thick dark hair hung in a curtain down past her chest, that night and many nights before, it was tangled in thick dirty knots, matted to her skull in places.

The very first day she was allowed to shower here, she grabbed a pair of scissors and hacked it off to the best of her abilities. Caroline later cleaned up the choppy job and now she’s found herself with a short bob of dark brown, nearly black hair. She’s really started to come into her own, feeling like her own person and becoming who she wants to be.

She just wishes that was a person who could stay in Reinette. This is what has to happen, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t going to miss everything here. Lloyd and Caroline being the biggest thing, but Lucy, living on the farm, so much. It’s not like she’s never going to see them again.

They’ll likely invite her back for visits, already making plans to visit her in Montana, but things are going to change. That’s unavoidable and undeniable. It’s scary, but most things worth doing are.

Dahlia sees the sunrise before she finally manages to sleep in that bed for the last time.

The next day, or more accurately after she’s gotten a few hours of sleep, everything is a frantic blur of activity as she tries to prepare for the move. It’s mostly clothes, a laptop, a portable game, and a few books. Nothing major or impressive, a tight pang in her chest as

“Come on in.”

The door creaks open and she looks over her shoulder to see Lloyd, something in his hand. His fingers clench and unclench, there's something in his hand, he shuffles a bit in the doorway.

"Something up?" She asks, throwing a few more shirts in her bag.

"Uh, I, well, what's this?" His eyes are drawn towards her open duffle bag, the same one she brought with her to Hope County, she's just been throwing her stuff in without much thought.

She raises an eyebrow as he starts to shift some stuff around in her bag, pulling out a heavy white book with that familiar cross like symbol. How did that get in there? Chills reverberate up her spine, goosebumps raising on her skin, it's starting to feel like this Eden's Gate shit is following her everywhere.

"That was at the hotel, I uh, must have thrown it in my bag by accident?" It's the only thing that makes sense.

"First day there and you're robbing the hotel?"

"Shut up, I'll return it when I get back, but, uh, that's that religion I was talking about. Their book."

He drops what he was holding, it looks like a little booklet, homemade. She grabs it as he starts flipping through the weird religious tome, she opens up the booklet. A photobook, the first one is of her, Lloyd, and Caroline at the fair, big puffy bags of cotton candy in her hand. Second one her holding an alligator and grinning, they drug her out to an alligator ranch one day, knowing how much she loves animals. Pictures from the beach trip they took her on, photos of her and Lucy. A photo from her first day at the station with everyone crowded around her.

"Book of Joseph...god that's already creepy."

"Huh," nostalgia interrupted she peers over at the book, seeing a portrait of a guy, “that's him!" "What?"

"That's the guy who had the fuckin' statue of him, their founder or whatever."

"Who the hell wants his face hanging over 'em? Seems like a total creep."

“I don't know, he looks like Norman Bates there." She grimaces, the way he's glowering is entirely too reminiscent of the famous mother loving killer's signature look.

“Don't get it, I uh, hey, why are you looking at that?" He asks, peering down at the booklet in her hand.

"It's mine, I'm allowed to look at it."

"Who the hell said it's yours?"

"So, you weren't giving this to me as a gift, you just made it for fun?"

"Caroline made it and ya know, something to remember us by and..." His blue eyes blurring with tears.

"I'm moving states, not going to war, Jesus Christ."

"You're leaving, I'm gonna miss you."

“No one is dying, stop, oh my god, stop crying you baby." She knocks her fist into his shoulder, no force or animosity behind it.

“I haven't cried this much since Maya left for college," he tells her, talking about his youngest adopted daughter, who had left the home just a year or so before Dahlia showed up in their barn. The couple barely got a year of an empty nest before she barged in.

“Are you done?” She asks him with a raised eyebrow, waiting for the new fresh onslaught of tears to poor out.

“Yeah, yeah, by the way everyone down at the station wants to see you before you head out.”

“Why?”

“I don’t fucking know, maybe it’s ‘cause you’re leaving and they like you, some a little too much, as far as I’m concerned. “

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, my sweet naïve child,” Lloyd dramatically cups a hand on the back of her head and pulls in for a hug, “whoever was supposed to teach ya about the birds and the bees, really fucked up, didn’t they?”

“Shut up!” She groans, pushing him away, she’s not naïve. He just talks like a weirdo, she’s finally got her stuff all packed up, so she follows Lloyd out of the room.

Caroline is in the kitchen and has been all day, according to Lloyd she’s been cooking up a storm for the past couple days, ever since Dahlia first left for her interview.

“You coming down to the station with us?”

“Uh, I’ll meet you down there later.”

“Alrighty then.”

Dahlia’s heart sinks, a pang there as she sets up her luggage and bags to be tried down to her motorcycle, she plans on getting on the road right after this little meeting. She knows it’s silly, but she was hoping Caroline would go with them. It will be the last they see of each other for a long while, she doesn’t want Lloyd’s sobbing, but she’d like at least a little more…fanfare. But, Caroline seems fairly nonchalant.

“You ready to get going?”

“Yeah.”

Lloyd hops in his pickup truck, firing it up and driving into town with Dahlia riding her bike after him.

There’s an extra weight to her sigh as she parks in front of the little police station, the one she’s been reporting to every day for the past two year and this the last time she’ll visit. Lloyd doesn’t even bother to wait around for her as she stares at the building, soaking it in for the last time before she finally trails in behind him.

“Surprise!” A chorus of voices cheer out as she steps into the modest station, Micah and Chance two officers blowing on little party kazoos afterwards.

“What the fuck?”

“You didn’t think we could let you go without throwing you a party, did you?” Alexis tells her, squeezing Dahlia’s shoulder.

Alexis has the most experience here after Lloyd and if he’d bother to retire before the station goes out, she’d be next in line. Micah and Chance are the resident dumbass officers, but they’re entertaining if nothing else.

There’s a banner across the station office, Goodbye Stray. A sheet cake saying Good Luck on a table and Chance is throwing around confetti like a weird shredded paper fairy.

“You guys are so dumb.”

“We’re trying to be nice, brat,” Chance tells her, sprinkling confetti directly in her hair.

“Come on, I’ll cut you a piece of cake before he covers it in paper,” Micah offers.

Once the initial yell and Chance has run out of confetti, the party winds down into something more casual. Dahlia cramming cake in her mouth, with her feet propped up in Micah’s lap as they talk about everything. There’s a few other cops in the station, but most are on patrol and couldn’t make it. But Alexis, Micah, and Chance are by far the ones apart from Lloyd that she’s grown the closest too.

Which makes it all the more depressing that the station is slowly dying out. Each of them has already started building their list of places to apply to once the inevitable happens.

“I’m gonna miss you assholes,” Dahlia brings herself to say, after a moment.

“Finally, she admits it,” Lloyd yells out excitedly.

“Shut up.”

“You’re gonna make some great friends over in Hope County.”

“No one’s gonna be better than us, though.”

“Shut up, Chance.”

Dahlia can’t help but laugh at Alexis and Chance’s interaction, she really is going to miss these dumbasses. She doesn’t make friends easy, so parting with them and getting new ones is just that much more aggravating. Pratt was a dick and Hudson does weird things to her, how could she become friends with them? She doesn’t want to go to work everyday and either hate or be nauseous around her coworkers.

“My friend Earl will keep an eye on her.”

“Make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid you mean,” Alexis teases and heat flushes up Dahlia’s cheeks. Why does everyone think she’s stupid, why does Alexis have to think she’s stupid?

“You like it up in Montana?” Micah asks after a beat of silence.

“I do, it’s colder up there which sucks, but it’s beautiful. Whitehorse is nice, I’ve met some friendly people,” she thinks of the couple with Boomer and the people of the trailer park.

“I’m glad then.”

“Watch out or Micah’s gonna be throwin’ in an application there just to follow you,” Lloyd says, grinning.

“Would you stop?! I just wanted to make sure, she was going to be happy.”

“Sure, you were.”

They talk about anything and everything, Dahlia is the first one to leave, but all of them have looked into where they want to be post-Reinette. Alexis is looking into big cities, lots of work, showing just how talented she is. Chance isn’t going far, a county or two over at most. Micah still isn’t sure, but he’s thinking of leaving the state.

The night drifts on, until the cake is gone, easily two-thirds of it ending up in the void Dahlia calls a stomach. Outside the sky has become a wash of oranges, pinks, and purple as the sun sets. It’s time to get going.

“I gotta get on the road, if I have any chance of getting there with enough time to settle in.”

Dahlia reluctantly stands from her chair, the time’s come. The last goodbye, for now at least, she hopes that they’ll stay in some form of contact after this. Alexis is the first to pull her into a hug and Dahlia freezes a bit, taken aback.

“You’re gonna do great things out there.”

Dahlia’s heart pangs and she squeezes Alexis back, hoping the strength of her hold can communicate how much those words mean to her. After a moment, they separate. Chance and Micah looking at her now.

“Don’t think this gets you out of your promise, twenty-first birthday, you’re letting me take you out and get you piss faced drunk,” Chance tells her, grinning at his own stupid ideas.

“If you wanna drive out to Montana just to see me drunk, that’s on you.”

“Don’t underestimate my stubbornness.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Just so you know, if you need anything, all you have to do is call and ask,” Micah tells her, squeezing her shoulder, but she can tell he’s holding back.

“You can hug me, if you want.”

And then his arms are around her, hugging her tight to his body. She squeezes him right back. A few moments pass, before they finally pull apart.

“Well now I want a hug,” Chance says, upon the realization he’s the only who hasn’t gotten one.

“Come here then, dumbass.”

And then they’re hugging, Chance going the extra mile to pull her up off the ground. Another beat of just enjoying the warmth of someone who for some reason cares about her. She’ll never understand why. Why any of these people opened their hearts to her, but they did, and she’ll always be thankful for it.

Lloyd walks her out once Chance has finally freed her, the sun sinking lower in the sky, she buries her hands in her pockets. Her throat is tight, it’s getting closer and closer to the time to leave.

“You sure, you can’t just stay one more night here?”

“It takes over a day just to get there.”

“But uhhh,” Lloyd is nervously looking around as he stutters, like he’s trying to stall.

“You alright?”

“Well….um, it’s just…finally!” Lloyd yells as they hear the rumble of an engine coming in, Caroline’s car pulling into the parking lot.

“Caroline?”

“Thank god, I managed to catch you.” The older woman gets out of her car, tucking a short strand of blonde hair back behind her ear, she opens the passenger side and is rummaging for something.

“What’s going on?”

“Here, we go.” Caroline emerges from her passenger seat with a towering pile of Tupperware, all filled with various meals.

“What the hell is this?”

“You can’t cook, how the hell else are you supposed to eat up in Montana,” Caroline says, shoving the containers into Dahlia’s arms.

“There’s restaurants, microwave meals, I have options.”

“I’m not letting you eat garbage the whole time you’re there, this should at least get you through the first couple months.”

“I, I don’t have room for six-hundred plastic containers, I drive a motorcycle.”

“Eh, I’m sure you can fit ‘em into the under-seat compartment,” Lloyd says, already lifting the seat on Dahlia’s motorcycle and taking containers from her arms to force inside.

Dahlia’s laughing by the time he’s forced the last of them inside, looks like she was proven wrong.

“So, I’m just gonna be sitting on three months’ worth of meals all the way to Montana.”

“Pretty sure that’s more like a week’s worth for you, but it’s better than nothing.”

Dahlia smiles and chews her lip, not sure what to say. Emotion and sentimentality rising up in her. She feels like she has so much to say, every word cobbling together to catch in her throat. But she can’t just let it go, even if she has to force herself to dislodge a single of those words, she has to do it.

“I…,” that’s a start, technically, “I, really, really, really, really don’t deserve you guys. Th-there’s not enough reallys in the world, but I’m serious, I-”

“Stray, you deserve all the good that’s comes your way, hell you deserve a lot more of it.”

“I really don’t, I, I owe you guys so much and I know I can’t ever repay you for everything. But, I, I at least want you to know just how much it all means to me. If it wasn’t for you guys, I’d, be rotting in a gutter somewhere, I mean.”

“Hey, hey,” she’s being pulled into Lloyd’s chest before she knows it, hugged tight against his chest, when did she start crying?

Her face feels like it’s on fire and her head is throbbing. After a moment, Lloyd pulls away. He places a hand on her shoulder and the other cups her jaw, forcing her to look at him through her tear-filled eyes. All her yelling at him to keep it together, don’t be a crybaby. And she’s the one falling apart.

“You don’t owe us anything. We did our best to do right by you, because that’s what you deserve. Okay, you deserve a home and a family and people who love you.”

“Uhhh, agree to disagree…?” What the hell is her voice doing? It’s so broken and cracked, everything she says dragging out of her throat.

“No disagreeing,” Caroline chimes in, her eyes soft and motherly.

“We just want you to be happy, you deserve it.”

“You think you can do that for us? Just be happy and you’ll more than pay back anything you think you owe us.”

“I’ll try, I guess,” she murmurs, wiping tears from her eyes.

“Good girl,” Caroline says, reaching out to ruffle Dahlia’s hair. The young girl laughs through her tears, pull Lloyd in for another hug before forcing one on Caroline.

Dahlia wipes away the last of her tears.

“Uh, sorry about that.”

“No apologies, call as soon as you get there. We’ll try to come out and visit just as soon as we can.”

“This ain’t goodbye forever, Stray, we’ll see you again before you know it.”

A bright silver moon hangs in the sky by the time she brings herself to part with them for the last time, climbing onto her motorcycle.

Two mornings later and she’s pulling into the Moonflower Trailer Park, the sun rising overhead. A smile stretches across her lips as she pulls in, a few people already milling about in the early morning. She notices Ruth, helping ease her kid down the little slide in the miniature playground that’s at the center of the trailer park. The woman waves at her and Dahlia returns the gesture as she parks near her trailer.

She pulls off her helmet and thanks for a moment, locking up and keeping her motorcycle safe will be difficult with this set up. Moving it into her trailer would be an option, but it’s be a pain the ass with moving it every day. There’s a decent chunk of land behind where her trailer sits, not enough for another to move in there, but enough to mark a pseudo backyard.

Maybe she can build a shed or something? She’ll have to double check on the rules and what’s allowed.

For now, Dahlia busies herself with moving her things into the trailer. She basically tosses her bags and luggage in, not bothering to properly unpack things. The biggest thing is moving Caroline’s meal into the fridge and freezer. Once everything is where it needs to be, she grabs a shower and changes her clothes. She’ll have to do some laundry when she gets a chance.

Dahlia stretches her muscles as she steps back out of her trailer, the activity has picked up somewhat, more people milling about and having conversations about who knows what. She makes a mental list of the things she has to get done; checking about a shed, getting some groceries in, doing her laundry and probably some stuff she hasn’t even thought about yet.

She makes a beeline for the registration building, peering inside and seeing a man talking to Darcy. Taking her chances of a long wait; she steps inside and loiters behind the stranger. Darcy’s bright blues land on Dahlia and the man follows the gaze, it seems like everyone in the county has a set of pretty light eyes. All greens and blues from what she’s seen. The receptionist at the hotel, both deputies and Whitehorse, the dispatcher at the station, Mary May, Darcy, and even Ruth. She’s pretty sure the only other pair of brown eyes she’s seen since she’s been here was the guy who nearly pulled a gun on her.

“You need something, hon?”

“I don’t want to interrupt.”

“You’re fine, darlin’, we were just shooting the shit.” Pet names and light eyes seem to both be trends here.

“I was just wondering if I could build a shed behind my trailer, to keep my motorcycle locked up.”

“As long as you aren’t blocking anyone or anything, go for it.”

Dahlia gives a little thumbs up in acknowledgement and starts to make a bee line back out, time to find out where the hell to get supplies for a shed. The man starts to follow her out, quickly catching up to her as she’s making her way back to her trailer.

“If you’re looking to build something, there’s a nice hardware and carpentry store, they give you all the supplies and instructions. You just gotta put it together,” he finishes up as they reach her motorcycle.

“Sounds good, you got a number for them?”

“Yeah, I,” he looks at her motorcycle, “you got a way to haul it?”

“Nah, I’d have to rent a truck.”

“I got a pickup, if you order it, I can pick it up for you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’m down there most days anyway, I’m Liam by the way.”

“I-”

“Nice bike,” another voice yells out, a guy with scraggly hair looking at Dahlia’s motorcycle, “it yours?”

“Hey, Clyde,” Liam greets him.

“Yeah, 2009 Yamaha FZ1; guy’s kid totaled it and I nearly rebuilt it from scratch.” She tells him, smiling at the memory of finding the wrecked bike in Lloyd’s garage.

The three talk for some time about the specs of her motorcycle and talking about the place Liam recommended. He gives her the number and after some relenting agrees to be paid for at least the gas money. After some time and Clyde rambling about the vintage motorcycle he had as a teenager, she manages to tear herself away from the conversation to make the call. She reserves the materials and Liam is planning on heading that way shortly.

That taken care of for now, she decides to get her laundry taken care of. She grabs her bag of dirty laundry out of her trailer and makes a beeline for the laundry half building. It’s a strange roofed in area with no doors. How they manage to maintain the machine is beyond her. Seems like a nightmare when bad weather hits.

She rattles out her coins and gets what she needs, cooking may evade her but she at the very least knows how to do her own laundry. Dahlia bends over to start shoving her clothes in, she’s struggling to find her other sock when she gets the sense she’s being watched, someone’s eyes trained on her backside. She tucks a lock of hair back behind her ear as she stands back up and turns around.

“Uh, ah…” The guy awkwardly stumbles back, not really forming any words as he avoids her eyes. He’s taller than her; as are most people. Other than children, she hasn’t found a single person in Hope County shorter than her.

He scratches sheepishly at the back of his neck, why was he looking at her?

"There something on my shorts?" She brushes a hand down the denim, searching for something. It wouldn't be the first time she's managed to sit in something gross.

"Uh, shit, sorry I'm just a man, I can't help it."

"Okay…" That didn't really answer her question. Weird guy, she decides and focuses on going back to her laundry.

"No harassing the new girl, Boshaw." Ruth comments as she walks in, laundry basket on her hip.

“I wasn’t doing nothing.” He tries to defend himself and Dahlia is left even more confused.

“Don’t let him bug you, he doesn’t even live here. Boshaws are good for nothing but a party,” Ruth tells her, clapping a hand on Dahlia’s back. She just shakes her head, not worth dealing with.

By the time Dahlia finishes up her laundry the sound of a backfiring truck engine is making its way back into the trailer park. Liam with a truck bed filled with hardwood and all the stuff she needs for her shed.

“Me and Clyde will help you put it together, if you want.” Liam offers, him and Clyde already helping her unload the materials.

“I mean it’d go quicker, if I had more hands,” Dahlia says, she doesn’t need the help necessarily and doesn’t want to be a bother, but she’d appreciate it anyway.

“Where exactly do you want it?”

“Just right back behind my trailer, let’s see.”

The three of them move the supplies to where she needs the shed built, Dahlia’s taking a glance at the building instructions and when she looks back up, Liam and Clyde have managed to grab a radio and a pack of beer. It’s not even noon.

“Want one?” Clyde offers her a can.

“Nah, I’m under 21.”

“Pfff, never stopped anyone.” He shrugs before downing the can himself. Maybe as a cop she should give a shit about that statement, but the drinking age is dumb. Even if she feels obligated to listen to it due to her job, she can admit it’s stupid.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, sweetheart, where are you from?”

“Louisiana.”

“The hell you doing out here?”

“Moved for work, you two Hope County natives?”

“Born and raised, wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

“You guy’s got any recommendations of shit to do here?”

She happily listens to them ramble about lady’s night at The Spread Eagle, O’Hara’s Haunted House being the best place for a scare, hiking trails in the Whitetail Mountains, the best fishing spots, the 8-bit Pizza Bar��s games, and raving about the burgers at The Grill Steak. The entire time they’re all working, laughing, and the pair of them throwing back beers.

Sweat is coating Dahlia’s skin by the time they finish, and it feels nice to be able to stand back to look at what’s been accomplished. Put together with hard work and the help of her new neighbors.

“Hell yeah, we got that knocked out in no time,” Clyde boasts, holding his hand out for a high five that she gives right away.

“Here,” Liam tosses her the padlock he picked up for it, all packaged with it’s little key. She pushes her bike inside, already thinking of adding hooks and shelves, for her helmet and other odds and ends. She can really make something with it. She’s more excited to put work into her motorcycle’s home than her own trailer. Go figure.

She locks it up and hooks the key on her keychain. One more thing taken care of.

“I really appreciate it, you guys didn’t have to do this. Uh, I can’t cook for shit, but if you want I can buy you l-”

Engine revving again, better shape than Liam’s backfiring pickup, an old green one comes pulling into the trailer park. Dahlia’s eyes widen in surprise when she realizes who’s at the wheel, Sheriff Whitehorse. The tension of the trailer park draws tight, no more signs of the laughing easy going nature she was getting comfortable in. Liam, Clyde, and every trailer park resident as far as Dahlia can see are now staring daggers at the Sheriff.

No sign of peturbment, Whitehorse parks and hops out of the front seat of his truck, right next to Dahlia and her two new friends. He stops to grab something from the passenger side.

“The hell are you doing here?!” Clyde asks low and threatening.

“Came to see my new Junior Deputy, figured it’d be good for you to get your uniforms,” Whitehorse tells her, green deputy shirts in hand.

“Thanks, Sheriff.” She takes the uniforms from his hand, feeling those glares that were on Whitehorse being turned towards her.

“You...settling in alright, Rook?”

“Uh, yeah, I think…” She thought she was. But, now she has her doubts.

“That’s good, just wanted to check in on you.”

“I appreciate it, I was just about to buy them lunch, if you w-”

“We’re good,” Liam says, definitely with a gruff sound to his voice.

“Are you s-”

Liam and Clyde are already storming away, smiles and laughter drained from their faces and replaced with angry tension. What did she do? Why are they mad? She clenches her jaw and chews her bottom lip as she watches what she thought were her new friends walk off.

“Come on, I’ll buy you lunch, Rook.” Whitehorse claps a large hand on her shoulder, warm and comforting during her confusion. He gently turns her towards the passenger side of his truck, and she climbs in, fiddling with the uniforms in her lap; the Hope County Sheriff’s Department patch rough against her fingers.

The engine revs to life as Whitehorse climbs in, the radio humming out a country song. She hates not at least knowing what she did wrong.

“Not gonna lie, when I heard you moved into The Moonflower, I got worried about ya Rook.”

“Why’s that?”

“Hmm, it’s where a lot of the more...suspicious citizens of Hope County live. They don’t have a lot of respect for cops, none actually. More likely to call you a pig than eat lunch with you. Not bad people, but they don’t have any love for law enforcement.”

“So...I’m a cop who just moved into a trailer park of criminals is what you're telling me.”

“Basically.”

“And thanks to you, they all for sure know I’m a cop now.”

“Would have found out when you had to arrest one of ‘em, this seemed a bit better.”

It’s stupid to be upset, she knows that it’s stupid to be upset about losing people she’s known all of five hours. But it felt nice to be welcomed with such open arms and to know that’s already gone to shit. She focuses on her uniforms in her lap because it’s easier than dealing with the lump in her throat and the churn of her stomach. No name tag or badge on her uniforms.

“Where’s my name tag and badge?”

“We’re a small operation, Rook. We’re not investing in patches and a badge until we know you’re staying in for the long haul.”

“I also found out about your junior deputy crap, I’m not a kid in high school.”

“Not far off from it.”

He’s looking off across the road to make sure it’s safe to turn, so she uses the moment of him looking away to stick her tongue out at him. Does it make her look any more mature? No. Does she care? No.

“Caught that, Rookie.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Sounds fake.”

They pull into the parking lot of Aubrey’s Diner, a big restaurant with a pink roof. Whitehorse brings the truck into park, Dahlia tucks the uniforms into the backseat before hopping out of the truck. The sheriff squeezes her shoulder as they walk into the restaurant, as much as he likes teasing her, he seems keen on trying to comfort her. Maybe he just feels sorry for her and her shitty luck.

“Hey, my name is Cassie, I’ll be your waitress today. Can you take a seat, right over here.” A young girl, probably around Dahlia’s age with long black hair helps show them to a booth. Whitehorse takes his hat off as he sits down.

“Can I get you two anything to drink?” The waitress hands them menus, there’s a mess of bruises across her forearm. Mixes of blues, purples, and some more faded greens. The indents of fingerprints on her skin.

“A black coffee, please.”

“Uh, whatever soda you have is fine, what happened to your arm?”

The girl’s eyes go wide, reminiscent of a deer in the headlights. She gives an awkward tight smile and pushes a lock of hair back behind her ear.

“Oh, I was just horsing around with my four wheeler, nothing major. I’ll go get your drinks, right away.”

“You worry about everyone, don’t you?”

“You don’t get bruises like that from a four-wheeler.”

“You gonna do something about it?”

“Sure as shit gonna try,” she manages to catch the smile on Whitehorse’s face before she looks at the menu, “now, if you’re paying, what’s the limit?”

“Get whatever you want.”

“Do you actually mean that? Or are you trying to be nice, ‘cause I can and will eat you out of house and home if you let me.”

He laughs a little; a dry chuckle, like the idea of her being able to eat that much is ridiculous. She should try to go somewhat easy on him, first impressions or something. She’ll settle on a stack of pancakes and a double burger and fries.

There are a few people in the diner and when Cassie returns, Dahlia decides now isn’t the time. She doesn’t want to embarrass or make her uncomfortable. Even she has a smidge more tact than that. Cassie takes their orders and Dahlia feels Whitehorse staring at her.

“You gonna gorge yourself to make a point?”

“Pfff, this ain’t nothing to me,” Dahlia tells him with a shrug, drinking her soda, an awkward beat of silence following.

“You know, it you may not have picked a great place to settle in, but I think you’re gonna like it here, Rook.”

“I’m hoping.”

“A lot of people aren’t gonna like you. Aren’t gonna like your job, or what you have to do. You can’t let it get you down. The people here are good, most of ‘em will take you in with open arms.”

“They literally turned their backs on me, like physically looked at me in disgust and turned around,” Cassie brings their food back out, “thanks.”

“You know why I took a chance on you?”

“’Cause of the robbery thing?’ She asks as she begins dumping syrup on her peach pancakes before shoving a forkful in her mouth.

“I was gonna give you the probie position before that.”

“What!?” She slurs out around the food in her mouth.

“Well, yeah,” his blue eyes are soft, and he reminds her of Lloyd more than he ever has before, “you’re good people, Rook. And I’m not gonna be the only person who sees that. Anyone’d be damn lucky to have you in their corner.”

She swallows her mouthful of food, chewing the inside of her cheek as she weighs his words in her mind. Her heart is lighter, it’s nice knowing her new boss is rooting for her, sees something in her that’s worth seeing.

“That, uh, it means a lot,” this is too serious, “so, if you already knew you were gonna give me a shot before the interview ended, why the fuck did you wait until after to tell me?”

“Wouldn’t be any fun if I didn’t make you sweat at least a little.”

“I thought I fucked it all up!”

“Can’t be a cop if you don’t have a good poker face.”

“Its too good, I hate it.”

“Well, if you hate that, you’re gonna really hate this.”

“...and what would ‘this’ be?”

“You’ll be with Pratt on patrol.”

“What!?” She groans out, thinking about that smug asshole’s face.

“Pratt wasn’t too excited either, but I’m sure you two will manage.”

“Why can’t I work with Hudson?” Dahlia asks, though her voice catches strangely when she thinks about her. Heat prickling up under her skin. Whitehorse sighs as he leans back in the booth.

“I don’t want this to sound bad. You and Hudson are both perfectly capable officers. But I don’t like having two women officers partnered. I know it’s not right, but around here; perps will think they can push you around ‘cause you’re a woman. They’ll assume you’re soft. It’s not right, but it happens. I don’t want to put you in a bad situation right out of the gate, working with Pratt will make it easier on you.”

“That’s garbage, you may mean well, but it’s garbage.”

“There’s another reason too,” Whitehorse tells her with lopsided grin.

“And what’s that?”

“Rook, you could barely even talk to Hudson. I partner you with her and you’ll be a disaster.”

“What are you talking about? I talked to Hudson just fine.”

“You were bright red and stuttering; blind man could see your little crush.”

“Crush…?” Dahlia raises an eyebrow, like...feelings… That’s what everyone has been trying to say.

“Jesus criminy, that’s a whole new can of worms. You know what a crush is?”

“Yes, I know what a crush is, I just...never had one...I don’t think.”

“You feel like you’re burning up and gonna puke when you see her?”

“Maybe…”

“Like your heart is gonna explode out of your chest.”

“Uhhhh…”

“That’s a crush, Rook.”

She doesn’t even know Hudson, how the hell can she have a crush on her? You can’t have feelings for someone you don’t hardly know. She’s pretty though. Maybe it’s just physical attraction? Has she ever been even physically attracted to someone before?

“My head hurts.”

“I’m starting to think you’re even worse than taking on a high school kid.”

“Look, I don’t mess with that crap okay, I’ve never...ugh, can we move on?”

They’ve finished their food before they know it, Whitehorse just shaking his head at how easily she managed to gobble up all of the food she got. Dahlia grabs a napkin, doing her best to write down her phone number with it being actually legible. Her hand aches from the effort but it’s easy to read.

Cassie gives the bill and Whitehorse leaves a tip for her, once the young waitress starts to walk away, Dahlia excuses herself to go smoke. Though, she suspects the sheriff knows her actual intentions.

“Hey, Cassie,” Dahlia calls out and stops the waitress when she gets to a relatively secluded portion of the restaurant.

“Is there something else you need?”

“How old are you?”

“Uhh, 18, why?”

Not much younger, but she’s an adult, even a year younger this conversation would be a lot different.

“I can’t force or do much, unless you ask for it. But, I’m the new deputy with the station. I’m not saying for sure something is wrong, but if you need help, I want you to give me a call, alright?”

‘Um...thanks…” The girl awkwardly accepts the napkin before darting away and Dahlia clenches her jaw, knowing the chances of that call ever coming are slim. But at least she’s made an effort and if nothing else Cassie knows she has options. More than anyone ever did for her.

Maybe, she’ll go ahead and step outside for a smoke anyway.

She steps out and finds herself at the side of the building, where she lights up her cigarette. Dahlia fiddles with the edge of her thigh high socks as she takes a deep drag. She exhales a heavy cloud of smoke that drifts up through the sky, the afternoon sun rays beating down on her.

Among the trees something moves, a rustling of grass and brush followed by footsteps. Dahlia’s heart sinks when she sees her emerge. The girl from the hotel, the siren is walking down a grassy pathway. Her dress is a little different, no less white or lacy, but the sleeves are shorter and it comes off her shoulders, a white flower adorning her sandy colored hair. There’s a light grace to the way she walks, as if she’s on her own personal cloud floating along. She holds a book close to her chest.

Why is she seeing her again? Are her eyes playing tricks on her again?

Dahlia is moving without another thought, the siren’s call working it’s magic to draw her in again.

She expects the girl to vanish again, to fade into mist the second Dahlia gets too close, just as she had done time and time again that night. The second she grabs the woman’s shoulder, she’ll be gone. If the junior deputy even gets that close without the spectre fading away.

The heat of real flesh under her hand sends her spiraling back to reality. The girl jolting and staring at Dahlia with wide green eyes, scared and surprised at the grasp of a stranger. An expression unlike any seen in Dahlia’s hallucinations. She’s human, flesh and real, an actual person standing before her whom Dahlia just grabbed like a maniac. The panicky yells of others flood her ears. There are other people, a group of five or so people glaring daggers at Dahlia.

“What do you think you’re doing?” One of them yells, obviously ready to fight and Dahlia rips her hand off of the girl like she’s been scalded. What is she doing?

“I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry,” Dahlia gushes out a mess of apologies, “I, uh, thought I knew you from somewhere. I’m sorry, I just, sorry.”

“No, no need for sorries,” she’s speaking actual words for the first time, voice soft and melodic as she gently brings Dahlia’s hand into her own to intertwine their fingers, “you’re here for a reason, what’s your name?”

“Oh, uh, I-”

“Rookie, you ready to head out?” Whitehorse yells out from the diner, eyes narrowing a bit when he sees Dahlia with the strange woman.

“I gotta get going, again, I’m sorry, I, bye.” Dahlia’s off like a shot, ripping her hand from the woman’s and running back towards Whitehorse; desperate to escape the awkwardness.

She still feels those green eyes watching her as she jumps up into Whitehorse’s pickup. Dahlia settles into the passenger seat with a residual chill in her spine, she can’t put into words but something about this girl and the whole thing feels strange. The engine revs to life and the radio starts to play.

“You know that girl, Rook?”

“I thought I recognized her but, no.”

“You probably shouldn’t buddy up too close to the Seeds.”

“Why’s that?”

“They’re not too dangerous, they run a little religious group around the county, but they keep finding themselves in trouble lately it seems.”

“Reli- are they those Eve, Ed-”

“Project at Eden’s Gate, everyone calls ‘em peggies. They’re usually pretty harmless, but they always seem to be getting into hot water with the locals. Two of ‘em were the ones robbing The Spread Eagle that day you interviewed.”

“That doesn’t sound too harmless to me.”

“Stuff like that is rare, you just managed to land here at the right time.”

“Eh, I just know that I kept seeing random crap of theirs, from pamphlets to a book, and apparently that big freaking statue.” She glares at where she sees it over the horizon, the giant hunk of useless cement.

“Yeah, Joseph Seed is a real piece of work.”

“Wait, like, you’ve met him?”

“He’s had some run ins with us.”

“He’s like a currently living human being?”

“Last time I checked.”

“I, what the fuck, I thought he was like their old founder who died or something. You know from like the 1800’s or something. How far up your own ass do you have to be to have people build a statue of you? Ugh.”

Whitehorse laughs at her discomfort; she was here thinking he must have been some old founder who died a hundred years ago and it’s just some creepy man bun guy probably off somewhere being weird right now.

“You in a hurry to get home?” The sheriff asks her.

“Not particularly.” She needs to get groceries and stuff, but she has Caroline’s made up meals and she has water to her trailer, so she can make do and go shopping tomorrow.

“We’ll take the scenic route then, show you around.”

Whitehorse drives her around the Henbane river area, pointing out different places and structures that seem worth noting. The Dire Wolf Basin, Lydia’s Cave, Mastodon Geothermal Park, Dead Man’s Mill, and every place that has a name it seems. He prattles on something about each place, where they get their names, history. And she can feel her eyelids getting heavier with every syllable. They pass by the Drubman Marina, a dock and buildings, a pink helicopter landed there and boats on the sparkling clear water. The sun is starting to sink down and turn the sky into a mess of oranges and purples. His low accented voice rambles on about someone who owns it, divorce, real estate; it’s all a blur as she’s leaning against the door and her eyes finally shut completely.

“Rook, wake up,” Whitehorse is calling out and gently shaking her awake. She blinks a few times, clearing the sleep from her eyes. A glance at the radio clock tells her about two hours has passed. They’re parked back in front of the trailer park. He was talking and she fell asleep; not the greatest first impression to have on her boss the day before she starts working.

He doesn’t seem upset though, just smiling and laughing at her.

“You know, I was trying to help get your mind off shit, didn’t mean to do by boring you, but whatever works, I guess.”

“Sorry, I, uh guess, I was still tired from traveling, that’s a lie, I don’t know why I’m trying to lie. I just got bored and passed out.”

Whitehorse chuckles; at least he seems to find her amusing, that might help keep her around for a while.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Rookie, try to take it easy tonight,” she starts to unbuckle her seat belt, “and don’t forget your uniforms.”

“Thanks.” She grabs her uniform shirts out of the backseat and clambers out of the rusted green pickup.

Dahlia hears the trailer park before she steps past the sign. Whoops and hollers, the sound of a radio blasting. Behind her she hears Whitehorse’s truck pulling away and she feels alone again. No matter what it seems like she can’t seem to ever escape that.

In the center of the trailer park, near the playground area is a bonfire. Faces of people she’s seen in her short time here and ones she hasn’t met yet mingle around, laughing, hollering, and downing beers. The smell of food cooking over grills hits her nose, her never filled stomach growling despite herself. No one has noticed her yet. Caught up in the festivities. She adjusts the grip on her uniforms and kicks the toe of her boot into the dirt, she wants to be included. It’s childish, wanting so badly to just be invited. But she can’t help it. She doesn’t want to believe that people she seemed to fit in well with would throw her away because she’s a cop.

“You got a problem?” Clyde suddenly speaks up, noticing her through the party. His voice is low and his eyes narrowed, like he’s ready for a fight.

“Not particularly.” She shrugs.

“Then why don’t you go ahead and get out of here, Johnny Law.”

“I mean, I’ll go to my trailer…”

“Be better off if you just get out altogether,” Liam tells her.

“I paid to move in here like everyone else, you can’t kick me out.” Dahlia looks to Darcy, the only one here she sees that actually works for the trailer park and decided to rent to her. The girl chews her lip and avoids eye contact, running a hand through her short hair.

“I mean, yeah, as long as you pay you can stay, but I doubt you’ll be too happy here...You should, uh, try to find something else.”

“And the sooner the better, we don’t need fuckin’ narcs moving in on us.”

“I don’t work in narcotics.”

“Do I look like I give a damn what division you work for, a pig’s a pig!”

Dahlia clenches her jaw at Clyde’s yells, the way everyone around him is grinning, supporting him. This was one of the only options, besides an expensive apartment in Falls End or just waiting for the Silver Lake Trailer Park to have something available. She just rolls her eyes, trying not to betray the ache in her heart.

“This conversation is pointless.” She shakes her head and heads towards her trailer.

“Can’t believe we helped out a fuckin’ cop,” Liam grumbles as she turns her back on the party.

Then something pelts the back of her head, the stench of beer coating her hair as it splashes out of the nearly empty can that’s bounced off her skull.

She bites her lip, she could be an asshole, technically this can be classified as battery. And a little angry gremlin in the back of her brain wants her to teach them a lesson as they laugh at her, cackling like hyenas.

But it was just a can of beer, basically empty. She’s an adult. She doesn’t need to waste time or energy on this. At least that’s what she tells herself when she keeps her head down and makes her way to the trailer.

Her door does little to filter out the sound of the party. The music and excitement reverberates through the thin walls of her trailer.

Young blood, come to start a riot.

Don’t care what your old man say.

She tosses her uniforms on the couch, not really caring where they fall. The stench of beer is still sticking to her skin. She peels off her jacket and digs out her phone, syncing it to her speaker, might as well blast her own music in return.

Young blood, heaven hate a sinner.

I felt a break in a sacred place where your hands don’t heal.

But we gonna raise hell anyway.

These are the reasons you’re ruled by the things you feel.

The music mingles and mashes in awkward ways. The upbeat country rock and slow drag of indie music meshing into a cacophony of noise. Somewhere between a yell and a sing, she belts lyrics out, sometimes her music, sometimes theirs.

Raise hell, yeah

Out of the deep waters and all their intricacies.

Somebody gotta, gotta raise a little hell

This is the real face of all your enemies.

This isn’t unfamiliar. The ache of loneliness and feeling like she doesn’t belong. There are lots of reasons for it. No matter where she goes, there never seems to be a place for her. She can’t even blame them. Even if they’re open and welcoming, she knows that feeling will creep up again.

Baby, drop them bones.

I felt you escape into empty space where my heart can’t feel

Baby, sell that soul

Down in that darkness, you met all the things you feared

Lloyd and Caroline were the most welcoming people she’s ever encountered, yet that feeling still reared its ugly head. Those doubts of being a burden, a bother, that she’s intruding on their space. A leech of their time and energy.

The party rages on outside, everyone far happier without her around, as she lights a cigarette up in her trailer.

And I knew, I knew..

Baby, fare thee well

There was nothing I could do...

#far cry 5 #fc5 #joseph seed #jacob seed #john seed #faith seed #deputy oc #this is love #dahlia hale

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devolympian · 4 years

Text

Argo chapter 2

Rubble shot out under my body as I was slammed against the ground, a loud groan of pain escaping my lips in the process. However, I wasn’t on the ground for long as I soon found myself flung into the air once more, Clairs strong legs shooting me into the sky as if I were a soccer ball she had kicked.

As I hung in the air I was soon met with a flurry of kicks, each one hurting more than the last all culminating in the heel of her boot being brought down upon my chest and slamming me into the ground again.

My health seemed to plummet from this, but I managed to stagger to my feet and prepared for one final counter attack.

With all of my remaining strength I cupped my hands together and, through pure will power, conjured bright blue flames which compressed into a large fireball like object in my palms.

I followed Clair with my eyes as she fell to the ground, and as soon as her feet touched the dirt under us, I lunged forward and jutted my arms out sending the flames barreling towards her.

Clairabell simply leaped over it and landed in front of me.

Red and white lights flashed as she gathered energy into her strong, muscular legs and launched an endless onslaught of kicks so fast that they blurred together into bright flashes, tearing space and time asunder. And every kick made direct contact with my body.

With one final explosive heel to my jaw, my body was flown backwards landing in an unmoving heap on the ground.

My life had emptied.

“Yes” Clairabell cheered as the screen displayed her name in conformation of her victory, “bow to me mortal!”

“Dang it” I whimpered, watching as her character stood proudly over mine, “why do I suck at street fighter?”

“Well you keep choosing Ryu, that’s a start.”

“You always choose Chun Li though.

“Yeah cause she’s awesome and fun to- shit!”

As we were talking the scene in the game had changed to that of a large gray map with small portraits of the characters in front of it. With a flash an orange square appeared and begane jumping randomly from one portrait to another with loud beeps accompanying it.

With one last beep like noise the square landed on an image of a man with long, braided, brown hair and wearing a white mask.

“Oh” I exclaimed, “it’s Vega.”

“Easy” Clair stated as she prepared for the match, “I’ll have this done in like 10 seconds.”

It was over in thirty with Vega tearing through Chun Li with his clawed hands and superior speed.

Clairabell collapsed into a disappointed husk before the arcade machine, her eyes becoming watery as the words “You lose” flashed brightly before her.

“No, my sexy kick girl! How could he do this to her!?”

“Well he did kill her dad so. . . or, wait, was that M bison?”

As I contemplated this important question a 10 popped up on the screen and slowly started counting down.

“Shit, shit, Skye give me a quarter!”

I nodded ok and reached into my skirt pockets, only to find them empty other than a piece of lint and my ID.

“I’m out.”

“Already?”

“Dude, we’ve been here for an hour.”

“We have?!”

Unable to pay for another chance Clairabell and I watched as the numbers dropped until it hit zero and, in bright red colors, “Game Over” appeared on the screen before us.

“Damnit.”

“Sorry Clair.”

With annoyed huff Clair reached into her shorts and pulled her wallet out.

“Don’t worry Skee skee, I won’t let this masked back up dancer wannabe get the best of me. I’ll just wip out my secret weapon, get some quarters, and then smash his stupid face in!”

“I-it’s just a game though.”

A confident smile grew onto Clairabells face as she unleashed her hidden power, one which I could never hope to achieve even if I tried my hardest.

A platinum credit card with no credit limit, and endless spending so long as you pay the bill on time.

Clairs pink lips curled into an evil smirk and I could tell that she was thinking solely about spending every scent she could to humiliate a fictitious gut who had wronged her and the fictitious girl who has been one of video game crushes since she was like 13.

“Vengeance shall be mine!”

“Y-yeah” I stuttered out, “but won’t it take awhile before you fight Vega, the set up is r-random after all.”

Clair stopped smiling and gave me a disapproving look.

“. . . Skye, please, please just let me have this.”

“O-okay, s-s-sorry.”

“To the ATM” Clair cheered, almost instantly getting her pep back.

With her heels clicking against the arcade floor, Clair confidently struts over to the nearest ATM, her dark brown hair flowing behind her and her swaying hips drawing the gaze of the people she passed by.

I, meanwhile, did my best not to look like a stupid weirdo by scurrying next to her and hoped I was insignifigant enough to be completly off anybodys raidar so that they don’t notice me.

Once we reached the blue and white tower containing an untold amount of treasure (but, if you must know it was most likely between 100,000 and 200,000 USD) Clair raised her hand, placed the card between the scanner built into the ATMs face, swung down, put in a few numbers, and. . . was met with a buzzing noise and the words declined appearing onto the screen.

We stood in silence for a bit until Clair tried again, and was instantly met with the same results.

“Y-you did p-pay your credit bill, right?”

“I have to pay for a credit card?!”

Now, soundly defeated by our inability to acquire a hefty sum of money, or at the very least five bucks, Clairabell and I sulked back to our table where the ice in our drinks had melted and watered them down into tasteless puddles of dark sludge, perfectly symbolizing our utter destruction done to us by Vega from street fighter and a lack of change in either of our wallets.

With a heavy sigh Clair slumped forward against the table resting her chest on the wooden surface and began playing with the coasters, moving them around and making them spin.

“Sorry Clair” I said again, hoping it might make her feel a little better, “w-when I get paid we’ll come back. I-it’ll be a month though, sorry.”

Clair sunk lower into the table from my statement, a defeated groan escaping her mouth yet again.

“Stupid ATM” Clair stated while holding a coaster between the tip of her pointer finger and the table and spinning it, “making me look stupid. I’m made of skin you’re just plastic, so who’s stupid now?! Right Skee skee?”

“Oh, um.” Thinking as quickly as I could, I did my best to come up with an answer that would raise Clairs spirit, and make me feel like less of a bad friend for not being able to help. “W-well, th-the ATM is an inanimate object with no ability to create memories or any other neuron processing abilities, so I guess you’re by far more intelligent then it.”

I smiled after finishing my statement, while mentally patting myself on the back. There was no way that didn’t make her happy.

Clairabell just looked at me with confusion. “The hell are Neurons?”

“O-oh, they’re a cell in your brain which transmits nerve impulses when specific actions are triggered. Memories are the result of specific neurons being activated when the brain recognizes certain stimuli such as patterns and such.” “. . .” “. . .”

“Ok beautiful, I’m gonna pretend what you said makes perfect sense to me.”

“Sorry.”

I felt my face get slightly red as Clair giggled at my expense. Well, she was feeling better at the very least.

“Oh” she said, jumping up and pulling her phone out of her pocket, “I’ll call daddy!”

I watched as Clairs red tipped finger tapped on her phone with the speed of a carnivorous animal attacking the first meal it had eaten in days and the hungry look in her eyes showing the clear determination she had to devour what she wanted in one swift bite.

Dang, I’m hungry.

She placed the phone to her ear and we waited speechlessly for an answer on the other end.

“Hi daddy” Clair practically shouted, a smile spread far across her face. However, her face full of joy soon became one of shock and confusion. “What!?”

“W-what’s wrong” I stuttered, as a feeling of dread set into my empty stomach.

“Daddy that’s not fair, you can’t- What!? You can’t be serious, it is not that big of a deal!”

“Clairabell?”

“¡Oh, Dios mío, papi, estás jodidamente loco! Sí, apuesto a que si fuera Essy, ¡lo dejarías pasar!”

And now she’s speaking Spanish. By this point I was fully aware that I was no longer relevant to this conversation.

“What? What!?”

With a loud humph Clair turned to me, an angry scowl on her face.

“Skee skee I’m going outside for a minute.”

“Wh- w-wait. Clair!”

Before I was able to protest my sudden abandonment Clair was already heading for the entrance of the arcade, yelling angrily into her phone as she did so.

Within seconds of her departure my whole body began to shake and my eyes began involuntarily darting around the building, unsure where my site should be landing or if I should even be looking at anything at all.

Beads of sweat began falling down my forehead and arms and my throat became suddenly dry as I became painfully aware of how warm this place had become.

Without really thinking I forced my watered down soda between my lips and drank the odd tasting liquid into my body.

As I set the now empty glass back onto the table my thoughts finally caught up to me and questions began flowing into my mind faster than they could be answered.

How many people are here?

Are they going to talk to me?

Should I talk to them?

Is it strange that I’m here alone?

Is it wrong to be here alone?

Where were my friends?

How much are the chicken strips here?

Should I scrounge around for quarters and play the games?

Is it okay for me to play the games without my friends around?

If I tried starting a conversation how long would it be until people yelled at me to leave?

How much are the chicken strips here?!

My brain began to ache from trying to answer the never ending onslaught of questions that I began attacking myself with.

Why did Clair have to take her call outside and leave me in this social battle zone where I am left completely defenseless with my subpar social skills and basically useless communicative abilities.

If Zee were here this feeling would most likely have been lessened and. . . come to think of it, where the heck was Zee?

I guess he’d messaged Clair a little after we’d gotten to the arcade, saying he would be a little late, but he’s normally not this late.

The idea that something bad had happened, or that Zee was in some sort of trouble added itself to my growing number of concerns.

I wish I had a book to read.

I wish I was plotting a masterly crafted revenge scheme with Edmond Dantes, or hunting for lost treasures alongside Jim Hawkins, or fighting alongside the knights of the round table for the glory of king Arthur, or learning how to try new things like green eggs and ham with Sam I am.

My fingers began tapping against the table without me telling them too, almost as if they were typing my thoughts onto an invisible keyboard so that I could read how pathetic I actually was.

No, wait. This isn’t right!

I desperately tried to swallow the knot that had formed in my throat and forced my fingers away from the table before they could make deeper scratches into it.

This was a blessing in disguise. An opportunity that the gods have presented to me so that I might better myself socially and become a proper adult which will benefit society at large.

Clenching my hands into fist, I stood up in my stall, turned towards the violent army of people laid before me, mentally readied my ammunition with various puns on super mario bros and tetris that were always great conversation starters (so I’ve heard), set my foot into the battle zone, and. . . immediately sat back down, my body shaking from my feet to my pony tail.

Hey, I made it a step! That’s a win right?

With a heavy sigh, I just continued sitting in my booth, waiting for Clairabell to return.

That’s when my eyes wandered upwards to the TVs above the bar and a gasp escaped my lips as a sense of awe took over my heart.

Plastered onto the three screens was the same image of a reporter standing in front of a city in North America that was covered in dust and smoke. She spoke with a composed and calm voice but her body was shaking all over and her arms would gesture wildly as she explained the situation.

Unfortunately, the sound was muted by the noises in the arcade but the camera shaking wildly and the cause of the destruction rising from the ground a few moments later made me certain of what was happening.

Not too far from the reporter and her camera crew a creature had emerged, dirt tumbling down its long serpentine body and the sun glistening off its dark red skin. As it sung its upper half towards the camera I saw that its face was nothing more than a large gaping hole lined with crooked teeth that spun into a dark, empty void.

An Olgoi-Khorkhoi, a Mongolian death worm, had invaded the city and destroyed it out of predatory instinct.

It was so cool!

I mean, not the city destroying part, that is awful for all parties involved, but the death worm itself is probably one of the most amazing animals on the planet!

First off, it actually isn’t even a worm, it is a dragon species which evolved into their current form after their specific species was forced to migrate to desert areas over millions of years ago. Second off It is a dragon!

And that’s not even the coolest part

As they adapted to their environment the worms, or wyrms as we can probably call them, developed thermosensitive scales which adjusted their body temperature according to how hot or cold it was keeping them safe from the deserts rapidly changing temperatures. Their scales would even change color depending on the temperature, red meaning cold and blue meaning warm. Also, they developed giant mouths and the ability to freaking eat anything!

Isn’t that awesome!?

Granted, this does make them rather dangerous when they wander into cities or towns and are extremely frustrating to get rid of. However, the fact that they live in deserts far underground and tend to stay in one place unless mating makes this an extremely rare event.

But when they do pop up, an even more amazing creature follows.

Just as the worm prepared to dive back into the ground a barrage of golden arrows rained down onto it.

The arrows didn’t seem to bother it but the large number of explosions that followed did as every arrow erupted into a cloud of smoke and flames.

Panicked, the giant creature began tossing around in every direction and two long tentacles appeared out of its mouth in a desperate attempt to catch its attacker only to find that the scales covering its body began to change from their current red color to a dark blue as a giant pillar of fire erupted around it.

As the flames cleared the now blue worm was shown wrapped in chains held by a man with bat-like wings, large horns sprouting from his head, and a tail ending in a sharp barb.

Props to the camera crew by the way, these shots are amazing. So clear too.

The winged man struggled against the worm as it thrashed around desperate to escape its bondage, with intense struggle causing more damage to the city and sending the man crashing into multiple buildings as he held onto his prey.

Moments after this struggle began another man, this one with a long orange ponytail and a large golden bow stepped into the camera shot.

He looked like a college athlete having a large build, broad shoulders, and noticeable muscles. He wasn’t as large or muscular as Zee but he still looked exactly as I dreamed these people would. People who traveled the world, discovering new lands, battling monsters and great evils, aided by any god they wanted to help them.

He looked like an adventurer.

Holding the bow he held up a pillar of blinding light formed around him only to vanish moments later as millions of golden arrows hovered in the air around the orange haired adventurer.

Taking aim at the worm, he pulled the string of his bow back, released it, and caused the arrows to go flying towards the monster, exploding on contact just like they did last time.

The adventurer then promptly turned towards the camera with a smug smile and a cocky look in his golden eyes. He started saying something to the reporter and her crew, which I couldn’t hear cause bar noises, only to be interrupted by his partner slamming into him.

The camera followed the two as they rolled into the ground and kept filming them as they began, I assume by the angry faces, yelling and arguing with each other.

They stopped soon however as something caught their attention.

The crew turned back towards the worm as a large lump began running up its body and a pillar of dirt, and chunks of the city erupted out of their mouths.

Interesting factoid about Mongolian death worms, they are capable of turning their stomachs inside out and can actually regurgitate whatever they’ve eaten like a super soaker blasting people in the face. It is awesome to look at but most likely not a fun experience when you’re in the direct vicinity when it happens.

The death worm began slowly turning towards the crew and adventures as it fired its pre eaten food with deadly force.

My heart beat filled my ears as I clutched my seat in anticipation for what would happen, hoping with everything that the heroes would pull out one final secret move to combat the attack.

Just then, a black flash shot through the air striking the death worm just as it was about to hit the crew and causing it to fall forward into the city.

I felt my eyes go wide at the images before me and my heart began to pound even louder as I waited for the worm to get back up and face its new challenger.

But, like all epics, this one has a rather disappointing ending.

The worm vanished. Like, straight up, just disappeared.

I eyed the TV with utter confusion and a feeling of disbelief at what had happened.

Then, another black flash shot down directly in front of the camera crew and standing there, with his award winning goofball smile, spiky black hair, and electric blue eyes was. . .

“Zee!”

I shot up out of my seat, my glasses nearly flying off my face when I did so, and watched as my friend stood in front of the wrecked city looking like a superhero. . . before sitting back down and hoping nobody had noticed my outburst.

This was probably what he meant when he said work and, to be honest, it was really stupid of me to be surprised by this.

I’ve seen videos of him locked in combat with creatures from around the world and even have some stuff that he brought me from those countries. But still, it was kind of surprising to see him on live TV.

How he defeated the worm when the other two adventurers were struggling to even damage it was also something that grabbed my curiosity and refused to let go.

So, naturally I continued to watch the TV in desperate anticipation for any clue I could gain from the scene in front of me. That is, until someone stepped in front of me and blocked my view and I suddenly felt my stomach grow tight and found that it was getting harder to take in air, almost like someone was slowly squeezing my neck until I couldn’t breathe properly.

A young man was standing in front of me, his freckled cheeks tinted with a bright pink as he rubbed behind his curly brown hair and his dark eyes refused to meet mine. Every now and then he’d glance over to, I’m assuming, his group of friends but other than that he didn’t really do or say anything for a few seconds.

Eventually he moved his lips but, for some reason, I couldn’t hear what he was saying. Instead my ears had become filled with a sharp buzzing noise that drowned out all other sources of sound.

The guy in front of me, the people having fun at the bar, even the sound of the video games that surrounded us had become muted to me.

I tried to respond as best I could but every time I thought of what to say the words were erased from my mind before I could get them out of my mouth.

Then, in an instant all the noise shot back into my ears and I was greeted by the laughs of people having fun and the video games that had been entertaining them.

“So, yeah” the guy in front of me said, as he rubbed the back of his head and tried not to look at his feet, “ . . .you-you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I completely understand!”

He glanced around a bit more, his face beat red, as he waited for my response to the question I didn’t know.

What should I say? What should I do? These questions repeated themselves in my mind over and over again and no matter what I thought of it felt like the wrong answer.

Sweat began to drip down my body as my fingers started playing an invisible piano again. All while I stared blankly at the stranger in front of me who was patiently waiting for my response.

I clutched the hem of my skirt in my other hand and twisted the fabric until my heart stopped pounding in my chest.

This person was trying to interact and start a conversation with me, and I was just staring at him like how a child stares at something they don’t understand.

I owed him a response, didn’t I?

Swallowing the lump made of air that was clogging my throat I mentally readied my words and, with all causian thrown to the wind, I let the first answer that I could come up with out of my mouth.

“I have to pee?”

We both looked wide eyed at each other in silence once more as we pondered my question, which I really wasn’t sure why I asked.

“Oh, uh yeah, okay. I’ll just get out of your way.”

I watched as he stumbled back to his table where I could see his friends laughing and patting him on the back.

It took me a few minutes to remember that I asked to go to the bathroom, even though I don’t have to, and that I should probably start making my way towards there.

My legs jerked my body out of the booth and I began to stagger blindly through the crowd of people, bumping into bodies without realizing it and all around being the nuisance that I am.

As my breath shook its way out of my lungs I clutched the marble counter in front of me as I tried to steady my body.

Somehow, I managed to make it to the bathroom.

I wasn’t sure how I’d gotten to the bathroom, heck I wasn’t even sure I was still in the arcade, but I ultimately managed to complete the task I had absentmindedly assigned myself.

. . .

Now what do I do?

I couldn’t exactly go back out, but if I didn’t and Clair came back she might get worried.

She could probably figure out where I was but she might get mad at me for making her go through this, or get mad at the guy who tried talking to me, or call the cops to try and find me, or. . .

I looked at myself in the mirror and felt my stomach turn at the site of my reflection and I asked myself the same question I’d been asking for a few years now.

What is wrong with me?

Like usual, I couldn’t bring myself to come up with a good answer and just ended up messing with my blonde hair a little cause the bangs kept getting in front of my glasses.

With a sigh I continued to stand in front of the bathroom sinks my fingers tapping the marble that they were made of. I could leave soon, but for now I would have to wait, and probably think up an apology for Clairabell and the boy I was rude too.

For now though, I should keep my mind busy.

As I began tracing circles in the small puddles of water scattered around the counter a thought popped into my head. A little idea to keep my brain occupied and off uncomfortable subject matter.

Placing my hands under the automatic faucet I took a deep breath as the warm water began to pour out soaking my fingers and palms. Once my hands were significantly wet enough I slowly pulled them away, letting the water dribble onto the counter in front of me and whispered the word which I had to say.

“Undine.”

The moment the name slipped out of my mouth the water in front of me began to gather into my hands until it eventually formed a small ball. It was sort of like a large glass marble with how clear and shiny it was.

I smiled a little as I balanced the liquid in my hands before clutching it tightly with my fingers as I began pulling and stretching it.

Doing my best to make sure that the water held its shape I began twisting and turning it, like a baker molding their doe into the shape they wish to form but unsure what that actually was.

Eventually my hands began to move without my input as my mind pieced together what I wanted to create.

I started to smooth out the water until it was a sort of oval shape making sure that one end was a bit thicker than the other and that the smaller end had a bit of a curve to it before I tugged at the bottom until there was a peg on the sides which I slimmed down a little.

Next, I pinched the small end and twisted the water around before pulling at it making a long, curly, “tail” appear.

Then I cupped my hands around the top and started pushing some water upwards before turning it forward away from the body and did my best to give it a sort of boxy triangle shape. Tugging on either end of the shape I pulled two smaller triangles up and rubbed in them to make sure they were slightly dented inwards. And, just to add texture, I pushed my thumbs into the sides of the large triangle beneath where I had made the small dented ones before adding two much larger dents near the tip.

Brushing my hand down the back of the “neck” I made a long flowing main appear and finally sat my shape down on the counter, it’s shape holding so long as I focused on it.

My horse made of water sat perfectly on the marble in front of me, the light reflecting off its clear liquid body as a little water droplets dripped down it.

Butterflies tickled my stomach as I felt myself smile involuntarily.

It wasn’t anything special, in fact I’m sure looked awful compared to other peoples creations. But, I don’t know, guess I just really liked how it turned out.

Oh, I know!

Reaching into my skirt pocket I fumbled around a bit until my hands felt the cold metal of my zippo lighter resting just below my house key. I ran my thumb across my initials that my grandpa had emblemed onto its surface, just to make sure that it was mine, before pulling it out.

I flipped the top up and a small flame almost immediately materialized.

Holding the fire just below my little horse's head I tried my best to split my focus between the water and the fire in my hand.

“Salamander.”

With that word out of my mouth the flame started swirling around my little horse wrapping itself around its body, legs, and head before slowly sinking into the water. Unlike normal fire though, it didn’t extinguish but instead formed a small ball in the center and made my horses “eyes” glow a bright orange.

The horse then reared back on its back legs and let out a loud whine before it began galloping around the counter as if it were on an open field.

It was ultimately a simple spell, using fire to give life to a small object was sort of the second thing you need to learn when studying elemental magic after all.

But the sight of my little horsey galloping around made me feel as giddy as if I were a little kid. It was so cute that I couldn’t help but clap a little when it came alive.

Not wanting to stop there though, I placed my hand just above my horse while it grazed on a small puddle near the sink.

“Sylph”.

Instantly, wind began to shoot from my hand and, just like the fire, wrapped itself around my little horsey before going inside it.

My horse looked up from its water as two large wings popped out of its back.

Almost instinctively, it began running forward and started flapping its brand new wings until it lifted itself off the ground and began soaring all around the bathroom. It took to flying pretty easily if I do say so myself.

As I watched my little horse flap around I felt my mind start to clear and a sort of calmness began to settle over me. My shoulders relaxed and my muscles seemed to loosen up, as I let myself fall into a dazed state.

I didn’t have to think about going back into the arcade, about worrying Clair, or upsetting the guy who tried to talk to me. All I had to do was watch my little creation enjoy the life I had given it.

“Hi blondie!” Zee said, his head resting on my shoulder.

I let out a loud scream as I fell forward, grabbing the counter to regain my balance.

“Alex” I responded, my heart pounding wildly in my chest again, “What the heck dude!?”

“Sorry” he said, even though that smile of his told me he wasn’t sorry at all, “I came to use the bathroom and when I saw you zoning out I thought to myself, hey, let’s mess with her.”

“Wow, so glad my reaction of fear was to your liking. I’m afraid I am currently unable to do encourse however as my throat is currently killing me because of you.”

Zee then promptly gasped and looked at me with worry.

“Oh my goodness my lady, I meant you no harm” he responded, his body moving dramatically with every word, “perish the thought as I am but a humble servant in thine lords grace.”

“Dude what?”

“Oh woe is me, to have acted in such an ungentlemanlike way to such a fair lass such as yourself.”

Zee then, with all the acting ability of a highschooler trying not to fail drama class, placed his hands to his chest, spun in place and fell back first into my arms.

“Can you ever forgive me?”

“I’ll think about it” I assured him, doing my best not to giggle, before dropping him to the floor.

“Yaa” he said, as he laid on the bathroom floor of the arcade, “she’ll think about it.”

This causes me to let out a laugh. Dang it Zee, let me be mad at you.

As he pulled himself off the floor, and sat on the counter, a sudden realization hit me and I began to panic.

“Zee, you can’t be in here!”

“Hey, this is a free country, my bodily fluids are just as good as anybody else's.

“No dude, this is the girls room!”

“Really? Those must be the decorative waterfalls then.”

He pointed behind me and my face became instantly red as I saw what he was talking about.

“Oh my gods” I gasped as I gazed at the three urinals next to the two bathroom stalls, “this isn’t the girls room.”

“Meh, gendered bathrooms are bull crap anyways.”

“I shouldn’t be in here!”

“Dude, relax. Most of the people here are too drunk to even walk into the bathroom and a lot of them probably won’t mind seeing you is that a pegasus?”

We both looked as my little horsey landed next to Zee on the counter and began grazing on the puddles it found.

“It’s my little horsey” I told him, almost instantly forgetting about the whole bathroom thing, “I got a little bored and-”

“Its name is raindrop.”

“ . . .Dude, yes! Come here raindrop.”

I patted my lap but Raindrop simply went back to flying around to its hearts content. It’ll get used to the name eventually.

“Oh dude” Zee exclaimed, standing up on the counter, “check this out.”

Reaching to his left I watched as Zees hand slowly disappeared and a humming noise began to fill the air around us. After a few seconds he pulled his hand back revealing that he was now holding a small jar filled with dirt and a small red serpent-like creature.”

“No way, is that?”

“A 100% middle eastern, male, Mongolian death worm? Yes, yes it is.”

He handed me the amazing creature before jumping off the counter.

“I fed him a few runes so he’d shrink down and decided it’d be fun to keep him around until I’m near Egypt or Turkey again. Did have to get all the dead bodies out of him first though.”

“Going to pretend I didn’t hear that last part” I responded as I watched the little wormy wrap around the stick Zee had placed in there and start relaxing.

“In all fairness the people he ate are alive now, because of yours truly, so it all evens out.”

“Are they in anyway zombies?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that the use of zombification was in play here.”

I let myself giggle a little at my friends' slight ridiculousness before returning my attention to the little fella in my hands.

“Ooh, let’s name him Mr.Worms.”

“Nah, that’s too predictable.”

“So is Raindrop and you didn’t see me turn down that name.”

“How about cinnamon? Cause of the red scales.”

“His scales aren’t always red though.”

“Oh yeah that’s right.”

“Hmm, maybe Sandy?”

“Naw, I’m saving that name for my pet squirrel. How about-”

All of a sudden, we were interrupted by the sound of Zees phone ringing.

“Oh” he said, “hold on.”

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone which was encased a pink, kitten shaped cover.

“Moshi moshi” he responded.

“WHERE ARE YOU” I heard Clair scream on the other end.

“Oh hey, Clairabell baby. Long time no see. How is that hunk of a fiance of yours, still a wiz in the sack?”

I couldn’t hear Clairs response, but Zees smirk told me that he got the reaction he wanted.

“Alright, alright we’ll be out in a sec. Love you snookums.”

Zee made a kissy noise into the phone, and I could hear Clair growling angrily, before he hung up.

“Well” he said, grabbing his new pet out of my hand, “let’s go make sure Clairabell doesn’t start murdering people out of worry.”

“Oh, um, okay.”

Zee placed the worm back into the space he pulled him out of and we walked out of the restroom, Raindrop following after us.

To my surprise the bar had become quieter and the patriots had almost all disappeared.

How long had I been in the bathroom for?

Before I could figure out the answer to my question I suddenly felt two, squishy and soft, round orbs smash against my face as I was swept off my feet.

“Skee skee” Clairabell said as she hugged me, and pushed my head into her chest, “I was so worried!”

“C-Clair” I said, doing my best to push her away, “I can’t breath.”

My pleads for mercy were promptly met with Clair tightening the hug until I could feel my body being crushed.

“What” Zee whined, “no love for the hero who found the missing girl.”

Clair, finally loosened her grip, as she turned towards Zee.

“And where the hell were you?”

“Africa.”

The fact that he was able to say this without batting an eye both annoyed, and actually didn’t surprise, me or Cair.

“So” he continued, “what games do you guys wanna play?”

“We’re out of quarters” I told him as I was still held in Clairs arms.

“ . . .Was it Vega?”

“Vega is a cheating asshole” Clair argued, nearly crushing me again.

“Clairabell” I whined,but received no response.

Zee simply smiled coily and crossed his arms.

“Well, it seems you gals are in quite the predicament. To be faced with such a powerful opponent but with no way of defeating him. Truly, I feel nothing but the utmost sorrow at your predicament. Infact, I feel the need to donate all of my earthly possessions to your noble cause.”

“So you’ll give us quarters” I said, finally escaping Clairs grip.

“I wasn’t done hugging you” she promptly stated before grabbing me again.

“Watch where you’re touching please!”

“Hmm, yes, I would love to donate this treasure which you commonly call quarters. . . but I broke.”

We stood in silence for a sec.

“Say what?”

“I broke. I don’t have any money. Me is poor.”

“So why’d you offer us the quarters” Clair asked, squeezing me again. She probably would have snapped me in half if I didn’t manage to squirm free.

“It was fun,” Zee answered, his signature smirk returning.

Clairabell and I simply glared at him, the fact that we could never defeat Vega now actually annoying us more then Zee was.

“Oh come on don’t be mad” he said before rushing over to us and lifting both me and Clairabell over his shoulders, “for I know where our adventure can continue.”

“Hey, hey, hey” I protested as I was once again, unwillingly picked up.

“Yes” Zee answered, even though nobody asked a question, “a magical place in which dreams and happiness are bound. A place where we can be free to do as we please, and be who we are meant to be.”

“Skyes place” Clairabell asked.

“Yep”

“Hey wait guys” I started to say, “I should probably ask my pare-”

Before I could finish my sentence Zee began rushing to the exit, still holding me and Clair on his shoulders.

As we ran through the bar none of us could help letting out laughs and allowing smiles to grow on our faces.

We simply ignored the people around us and set out on our epic adventure.

#creative writing #writing #original story #urban fantasy #modern fanta

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