#but if you like it *wags eyebrows bc im honger for zombo thread*

[wulfiestired]

12 w/ fjjjjord, PLEASE 😭

012.   our muses are the forbidden love of the zombie apocalypse : a part of rivaling groups but they sneak off and meet up whenever they can. OPTIONAL: one day my muse gets followed by someone a part of their own group.

Avantika was going to gut him for this one day. 

 That was the foremost thought in Fjords mind as he threw his legs over the trunk of a fallen tree and crept through the wild sun flowers an tall grass that lined the cracked county roads in the late summer. It provided cover if nothing else- good for running from dim witted walkers and frankly good for other live folk to sneak up on him. He had never been the most alert but he had always made up for it with pure dumb luck and charisma.

Hell, its what got him into Caleb’s favor in the neutral zone. 

The man was from a small group, unaligned with Darktow. They didn’t have a name but the woman he traveled with- Beau- had a blue canvas coat emblazoned with the symbol of the Cobalt Soul on the back and that hung a pretty enough warning that Fjord should have left them alone. Yet he hadn’t. He had bumped into their group at the trading zone, again at the market, and luck would have it they would end up in the same shoddy inn where they were pushed into the same corner with a couple of beers.

“This place sucks,” the woman had hissed at the man who finally pulled his hood down to reveal dirty auburn hair and bright blue eyes that made something stir in Fjord’s chest that he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“It is dry at least,” the man murmured, voice low enough Fjord had almost missed it.  Just like he had almost missed the goblin that scurried under their table and popped up at the other side between both humans, a few meager looking turkey sandwiches in her hands. 

“Caleb I got you two- I know you haven’t eaten anything today and-”

“Nott-” the man, Caleb, looked hesitant but she was already pushing two on his hand and leaning over to hand the other woman one. 

“Don’t argue, man. You look like a breeze would knock you on your ass.” The woman smacked him on the back, the sound sharp though Fjord could tell from the way Caleb didn’t react that it had been gentle enough. 

“Yes well... Danke, Nott...” The man smiled weakly at the goblin, Nott, who seemed quite pleased as she sat on the edge of the table top and chatted away about some rations she had nicked for the way home. They didn’t interact then, not really. It wasn’t until the goblin and the woman in blue had patted Caleb on the shoulders and headed up to their room, not until Fjord was well into his cups and Caleb was looking outside the window nervously that Fjord had made his move. 

Well- if one could really call it that.

“Hey.” Caleb looked up, bangs sticking to the furrowed crease of his brow in a way that shouldn’t have been so cute. “Caleb, right?” 

“Ah, so you were listening in.” Caleb didn’t smile, but he didn’t look like he was going to start a fight either. “Is it about my friend? She’s clean. It’s only a rumor that gobl-”

“What?” Fjord squinted at him for a moment before raising a hand and waving it hastily. “Ah shit- no- sorry I wasn’t worried about her. I was just-”

“Ja?” The human looked confused, blue eyes not quite meeting Fjord’s own, fingers fidgeting nervously against the worn spine of some old avon novel. Fjord didn’t know many people who’d carry around useless weight like books. Then again if he was a wizard well- maybe he didn’t have to burden himself with bullets. 

“I was just gonna offer you a drink. It got too quiet,” Fjord tapped his own glass, no longer filled with beer but some variety of bathtub gin that smelled a lot like paint thinner. “Does that sound fair? A drink for a little talk?”

“I can’t... I’m not allowed to talk about work,” Caleb still looked uncomfortable, eyes flitting towards the door. 

“Me neither,” Fjord said a little too quickly. “You can tell me about your uh-” he glanced down at Caleb’s hands, squinting. “Late night lassos.” He looked back up at Caleb, lips sliding into a smirk as the man colored dark with blush, visible even in the shadows. 

“It is uh- it is smut.”

“Why am I not suprirsed. Listen, let me go get that drink and you can tell me if its up to snuff.” Fjord stood up, pulling a pouch of old coins that still counted as currency in the neutral zones. 

“Wait-” He stopped and looked over at the man, hands flat over the book cover as if to obscure it. His eyes were finally raised high enough to meet him. “Thankyou mister...?”

“Fjord,” he grinned, slow and easy. 

“Fjord,” Caleb repeated, his own lips forming a small smile.

Somehow a few drinks and a shitty novel had led to kissing and to Fjord’s room and to a promised meeting two months later in the next neutral zone over and- that had been some time ago. Fjord wasn’t sure what exactly kept drawing him back to Caleb. The man was an anxious little shit with more bagage than himself and that was saying something but...

The way he smiled, his off beat jokes, even the way he cooed and talked to his fake-cat were all ridiculously endearing. Endearing enough that Fjord signed up for solo-work, took the beaten path into walker-heavy territory. He walked through high grass and deep snow until he saw a worn blue ribbon caught in a window sill or wrapped around a post or sticking out of an old rusted can of beans on the porch of a falling in house. 

Honestly, it was the closest thing that felt like coming home since all of this shirt started in the first place. 

This time he crossed the road and over the guard rail, wound his way down a steep hill full of trees and the sound of frogs and cicada trilling loud enough to cover his own foot steps. The ribbon was in a tree, almost as if it had been caught by the wind, and it took a careful eye for Fjord to catch the glow of a lamp coming from an old drainage pipe, long dry with the heat of august. Fjord pulled a rock out of his pocket and sent it down, skittering towards than past his lovers hiding spot. Caleb didn’t appear at first but a cat did- eyes almost unnaturally pale as it reguarded him with bristling fur before it calmed and turned. Caleb did appear then, hair mussed and in a messy bun and a large half dried bloody gash on his cheek. 

“Fjord!” His voice was soft, pleased. “You were late- I was getting worried.” 

“Yah...well...” Fjord made his way down the hill, scratching at the back of his neck- until his foot slipped and he scrambled to right himself with the low hanging branch of an old pine tree. “You know how it gets out here.” 

“Did you run into walkers?” Caleb didn’t move closer, perched on the edge of the pipe, his toes hovered a few inches above the ground.

“Not exactly,” Fjord pushed himself from the tree and made his way down slowly, carefully, until he could rest his arms on Caleb’s knees. “Well- they were walking. I was more worried bout their guns then their teeth tho.” 

“Oh,” Caleb sighed and brushed his hair back, long and ragged and in desperate need of a touch up shave. “Well I’m glad you made it here in one piece. I really need to teach you how to cast a message.” 

“Yah?” Fjord asked, pulling Caleb’s hand from his hair so he could press a kiss to it. “Think I could pull off a bit of magic?” 

“Fjord. Anyone can pull off magic,” he turned his hand and pinched the skin of Fjord’s palm making him snort. “It just requires work.” 

“Yah well-” there was a loud crack and Fjord swore under his breath as Caleb pulled his legs up and shifted back into the pipe, fingers smoking as energy warped and built around his open palm...

Well shit- nothing could go Fjord’s way for long. He didn’t hide the look of hurt in his eyes as Avantika peered down into the clearing, a pistol twirling in her fingers. “Got yourself a blue bird, huh Fjord? You better start talking and this better be good.”