#red red desert }* OOC

[emerdoodls]

u can't convince me young justice didn't buy tim one of these sweaters (also if u can't read it, it says "I got my spleen removed at claires)

(ft the sweater on pinterest that inspired it)

[malumae]

i feel kinda sick so it's a slow morning for me but i haven't been able to stop thinking about ren telling someone he loves them for the first time and how it's probably not a very romantic moment because he overthinks it until it consumes him and then it comes out at 6am a random wednesday morning "you snore in your sleep but i love you anyway. coffee?"

[smoozie]

There seems to be some debate over whether or not Scar cared about Grian's "affair" in double life and I think it comes down to the fact that Scar did not care about finding his soulmate nor did he particularly like Grian as his soulmate. However. Scar was very much upset about the secret soulmate shenanigans

[melpcmene-arch]

make a terrarium based on your muse

Vash-centric terrarium

tagged by: ( yoinked ) @futurepiratekiing tagging: @ anyone who sees this!

[demonsfate]

law gameplay trailer is out.......... since we still have lars, king, and jack left......... let me guess, jun is gonna be the last character trailer we get for the current characters?

[noellefan101]

Could I request the Sumeru boys with a super doting s/o who loves to cook for them? In her eyes, nothing breaks her heart more than seeing the boys hungry and tired.

Characters: Cyno, Tighnari, Alhaitham, Kaveh, Wanderer(, + Albedo) x female reader(i didn´t know if you wanted gn or female, but you said 'her' so i just guessed, i´ll change it if you want(its not really there anyway))

Summary: Them with a reader that likes to cook/what you do when they come home tired/hurt

Warnings: kissing, maybe ooc, not proof-read, hugging from behind,

Note: thank u for requesting anon, i loved the idea, if i missed anyone pls let me know. sorry i was a "little" late though(i also tried smt new, hope you like it). i also realized that i like when people hug me from behind vize versa(someone pls hug me, omg), i luv youuuuu

Cyno

he had just come home after a tiring mission out in the desert, and he looked worn out, with bruises here and there, and bags under his eyes. you almost cried at his state when you saw him, and immediately got some bandages in case he was badly hurt. but after you gave him the bandages you went back to cooking, you couldn't let it burn after all. but then told him to sit in the kitchen so you can help him while cooking.

he was confused at first but just went with it and sat on one of the kitchen chairs, the smell of your cooking comforting him more and more as he got closer to the kitchen. he almost forgot how calming your presence was, but its a happy surprise every time. he always loved your cooking so him coming home to you cooking his favorite meals in the kitchen, ready to greet him with one of your brightest smiles, it was like seeing the sun for the first time in months, even though it had only been a week.

knowing your love language was cooking, he always accepted your food, wanting to show that he liked when you loved him, and that he loves you too.

"cyno? you ok?" he got caught off guard when you spoke out to him, he didn't realize he had been staring at you, and immediately apologize. "o-oh yeah im fine sweetie, sorry" "hm, its fine, dinner´s ready" you smiled at him, and he felt like he fell in love all over again. but realizing he didn't have time to space out again (tho he wanted to) he just started eating. enjoying the food you made just for him, while thinking about when he finally would get the guts to propose.

Tighnari

it had been a long day in the forest, along with most of the trainees not listening to his lectures and some just strait up ignoring him(not Collei ofc, your sweet baby child, (with Cyno as the unfunny uncle)). in short, he had a really bad day and had little to no energy left.

but he didn´t even realize he was so tired until he practically saw your heart break in half in your eyes when you saw him. it really pained him to see you like that, little did he know you hurt more. you were almost done cooking when he got home and unfortunately couldn´t tend to him right now(+ Nari would scold you if left it alone, and tended to him instead). so you just asked him to walk over to you instead and gave him a little kiss on the cheek to hopefully restore some of his energy.

it did help him a little bit with calming down, you always did, but this time he may have gotten a little greedy and went in to give you a kiss on the lips in return. "Tighnari, not right now. do you want dinner or not, im sure Collei wants some" he laughed a little at your words(and at your red cheeks) "of course i´d like some dinner, Collei as well. but cant i kiss my beautiful girlfriend/partner" you looked back at him, glaring a little.

"fine, but- mhmph" your sentence got interrupted by another kiss from him. when you pulled away your cheeks were completely red, "Nari, stop that, at least eat first" he looked at you in amusement, "fine i´ll eat first" he ended the sentence with a sigh. "good you better, and after you need sleep, you have bags under your eyes" you went back to cooking. "sure, whatever you say gorgeous" he looked at you(with hearts in his eyes) and you looked back at him "thank you, handsome"

Alhaitham

he had been reviewing some scholar's papers today, and it was definitely not his favorite. some lacked the correct knowledge about the right things to focus on, some the papers lacked effort, and some couldn´t even be called proper papers. yeah, he didn´t have a very good day, some random guy even dared demand a meeting when he clearly was very busy doing something else.

when he opened the door to your home, he was instantly met with the delicious smell of your cooking. but it seemed like you didn´t hear him since you weren´t running to him like you normally would, or maybe you were just too focused on cooking. but that didn´t matter to him right now because he, for once, just wanted to have you in his arms. when he walked into the kitchen, and catching you by surprise at the same time, he only walked up to you and hugged you from behind, burying his face into your neck.

you didn´t look at him, but if you did you´d see just how tired he really was, you were just a little too focused on cooking it seemed. he just stood there hugging you for a bit, looking at whatever you were doing, though he didn´t really pay attention, and he almost fell asleep right then and there if you hadn´t called out to him. "Haitham, i´m almost done cooking, can you put plates on the table" you took him out of his thoughts and even surprised him a little, "o-oh, yeah i can do that, love".

you looked over at him, only now realizing how tired he was "Actually i can do that, you don´t have to. just go sit down" he looked at you "are you-" "yes im sure. Go sit down" you looked him in the eyes like a mother did when she was angry at her kid, "of course" he looked away from you. "thank you, i love you" "...love you too"

Kaveh

yes, he has been working non-stop on this project from a client. it wasn´t even due til in a month or so, but still, there he was in his office looking over the many sketches that got declined. some were too detailed some too simple, and there was the ones where the client didn´t like the style, even though it was exactly what he asked for... he could go on for hours and hours about how frustrated he was.

you were just going into his office to check on him and to give him some water, but when you saw how tired and hungry he looked (he hadn't eaten in, like, hours)you quickly gave him the water and went out to the kitchen before he even realized you were there. you started finding the ingredients even before you fully entered the kitchen, already knowing the recipe since you´ve made it so many times for him.

an hour later it was already done and you were about to get a plate and give it to him in his room, but it seemed like the smell of the food brought him to you instead. because there he stood, behind you hugging your waist and now that you took a better look at his face, your heart broke a little. he looked so tired and half dead if you were to ask Alhaitham.

you quickly gave him the plate and dragged him out into the dining room, "you need to stop forgetting to eat, mister" it almost scared him with how harsh your voice was at that moment. "-m sorry" you looked at him, your eyes softening a little this time " it´s fine, I'm just worried about you y´know" he laughed a little "i know, i love you" you looked over at him, a bit sharper this time "love you too, idiot".

Wanderer

He doesn't need to eat, he´s a puppet, you know that. yet you still make him food every time he comes home from classes at the Akademiya, when he looks extra tired from working on his thesis last night therefore he didnt get any sleep. he doesnt understand why you do this for him, why you make him tea all the time when he didn't even ask. he doesnt understand you.

But his heart still beat in his chest, despite not being there, when he saw your pained face as he walked into your shared home. his tired state for once showing in his face. he had been going a little too overboard with a thesis and also didn't realize the time until Buer came to get him/since you were worried about him, in your mind/. and then sent him home, both to his liking and his dismay.

you practically ran over to him, and then dragged him into the kitchen to then also force him to sit down and explain himself. he may have memories of being in the Fatui, but he still thought you like this was scarier. your normally sweet and kind personality gone, turned into something reminding him of La Signora and The Knave(+himself(or even Dottore)).

let's just say it wasn't the nicest experience but you eventually calmed down a little, the worry now showing more than when he walked into your shared home. "you need to stop overworking, Kuni", he gave out a sigh at your antics "i know, I'm sorry for worrying you" he mumbled the last part, and if you hadn´t been right next to him you wouldn´t have heard it. "well, now you need to eat, you cant say no this time. oh yeah, i´ll also make you some tea if you´d like" he was glad to see that you were back to normal "Thanks, I´d like some tea, i guess". you laughed a little "of course, coming right up, now eat" he shivered a little at your sharp tone when you said the last part " *sigh* fine".

Extra; Albedo

its not like he wanted to worry you, he was just a little too invested in the experiment he was working on, in Dragonspine no less. so he ended up forgetting to stop and go home and instead worked himself to near death(who doesn´t, right). and when you went to check on him he didn´t even notice you, so you decided to surprise him in a hug from behind, while being careful not to ruin anything that was in front of him.

he doesn´t hate it when you surprise him, oh no, you just caught him off guard. and he definitely didn´t expect you to visit him today, but he enjoyed you being here and hugging him. he didn´t realize he had been lost in thought while staring at you til you asked him if he was okay, and to be fair he wasn´t really ok, but he said yes anyway.

"are you sure?" the question caught him off guard for the second time that hour, " *sigh* to be honest, no im not sure" he turned around and hugged you back. "are you hungry?! i can cook something if you´d like..." you looked at his face, there were bags under his eyes and he didn´t look as pretty as he normally did(he still looked pretty tho/im so very not normal abt this man/) "... you look tired, bedo. i can cook you something and then you need to sleep" you looked at him again, this time you looked more serious.

"but-" you stared at him sharply, " *sigh* -fine, I´ll eat and then sleep, but only if you do too" you smiled brightly at him "deal". you then untangled yourself from his arms and ran over to your bag to get your spices, you then started finding the eatable ingredients you have stored in his lab. after you forced made him eat something, you dragged him to bed. the experiment can wait anyway.

thank you for reading, had a lot of fun writing this so hope you enjoyed, luv ya-Masterlist

You are welcome to reblog and like any of my posts, but you CAN NOT translate, copy or hate on anybody for liking my posts

[imutrt]

Vision | Atreides

Summary: Paul asked her " When you look at me, who do you see?"

Pairing: Paul Atreides x fem!oc ( x reader tagged too, scroll if you don't like it)

Warning: hes a sad boi and i dont know anything about the dune universe. ooc. Spoilers! Kind of nsfw ( no details) A sucky ending bc i went off track.

Note: I just saw dune pt 2 yesterday and I already forgot what it's about😅 Lady Jessica will ALWAYS be in my mind tho. She's so beautiful.

In the night, he was growling.

Aethal shifted in the little space she has. They're close together, the heat of Paul's body brushed against her face. Too hot?

She shrugged out of the sleeping pod and placed a hand closer to his neck. Too hot.

" Paul." Aethal let out a low call as he twitch. " Hey."

He does not stop speaking.

The lady held her breath then, gazing at the angry frown on Paul's face, attempting to hear his voice over her own growing heartbeat.

" Kwisatz Haderach." She heard him mumble. " Muad'dib, Atreides.."

" Paul." Aethal was louder, shaking his shoulder. " Wake up."

The silence of the desert returned to the tent in an instant. She heard no breath, no gasp, only the sound of drum inside her chest. His eyes were open, she saw, but he does not blink.

Aethal searched for her water tube in the stillsuit, staring at him still. The liquid didn't reach her mouth yet when Paul lunged for her like the dogs she owned.

They landed in her sleeping pod, his face deep in her neck. In the moment of shock, Aethal felt a trickle of coolness run down the side of her jaw. Water, she realized, and scrambled to close her tube. Something hot licked away the droplets and she froze.

" Don't waste water." Paul whispered, pressing his feverish face against hers. " I want more."

" So you do." She touched his forehead, then kissed him. " You're burning up."

" It's alright. " He panted as they broke apart, " Happens sometimes."

" You can't just have a fever and call it normal, Paul."

" It will go away." He huffed, " It will go away and I'll be fine. Don't worry." He raised his head from her neck and pecked her face. " Aethal, I want water."

" You've got it on you." The lady held his jaw in one hand, and fished out his stillsuit's tube with the other. " Drink it yourself, Paul Atreides. What is it that you're trying to do?"

The boy caught the tube after a long, wordless stare at Aethal, then dropped his head limply onto her chest. " I had a nightmare, Lady Hughoc. In it, my body was split into an equal amount to the names I have." He looked up, eyes heavy and red, shining like sapphire in the glitters of moonlight that the tent allowed through.

" Paul Atreides." He grabbed her hand and guided it to the center of his brows, " Lisan al Gaib." his lips," Kwisatz Haderach." his chest, " Duke of Arrakis." his abdomen, then lower. " Muad'Dib."

" Which part would you claim, Aethal?" Paul whispered, " When you look at me, who do you see?"

Aethal's eyes, just as blue, grew dark as she retracted her hand. Paul's breath quickened when she shrugged him off to her side and kissed him again.

" Why not all of you?" She asked against his lips, " Every part."

" But I'd loose you."

" So you will, then."

" No." He perked, " no."

" Paul." Aethal slid a hand into his hair and pulled him closer. " Who are you today?"

He thought of the celebration today. The large stilltent, all the Fremen inside. Them patting him on his shoulder, congratulating him and others in their shared win against the Harkonnens. Stilgard, preaching the prophecy of Lisan al Gaib, then giving him his name.

" Muad'Dib."

" Muad'Dib, then." her hand touched where he had left her. " I didn't know you in the past, and I won't know you tomorrow until tomorrow comes. If you truly become their Lisan al Gaib tomorrow, I'll still love you. But, if you turn into a sandworm? I'll reconsider."

[socheckitout-mikey]

do u think u could do something where johnny and the reader aren't officially dating or anything but she keeps stealing and wearing his clothes, and the gang starts teasing them for it, which eventually leads to him actually asking her out? i'm sorry if this is too much or anything but thank you so much!!

ahhh this is so cute! idk how i missed this one. my apologies for taking so long writing it out. it came out waaay longer than i anticipated, but i hope you enjoy what i came up with. (': <33 - mae

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Title: The Shirt Thief

Pairing: Johnny Cade x reader

Summary: A cold night with Johnny Cade in the vacant lot brings you an unusual sense of warmth in the form of his denim jacket. What starts off with said jacket, causes you to end up with multiple articles of Johnny's clothes. It all seems harmless until the gang starts digging their noses into Johnny's business. Are you guys friends or are you more than that?

Word Count: 9,472

Disclaimer: THIS IS EDITED! I fixed the spelling mistakes and some of the grammatical errors. I also added a few new things to it, mainly in dialogue. I hope you like it though! :)

Warnings: Mentions of abuse in Johnny's home (with his parents), animals hunting and fighting, Soc's bullying the reader - vice versa, almost attempted assault, the gang coming to the rescue, rough housing with the gang (banter mainly) and a whole lot of sass! Johnny is somewhat ooc here because he's more talkative and sassy, but it's just how the piece came along! Let me know if I forgot anything else.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

  The story of our pesky shirt thief begins in the vacant lot under the sparkling night sky. This night was a relatively clear one in the cusp of autumn’s frost. The full moon was ample, a stunning silver glow that hypnotically danced, shrouded slightly from the wispy clouds sent onward by the chilly fall wind. Amber, golden and burnt brick red crumpled leaves tumbled noisily across the sandy dirt in a mini whirlwind. A toasty fire was being nurtured timidly upon the outskirts of this deserted place, courtesy of Johnny Cade. Underneath the jagged canopy of an almost bare tree, losing its wrinkled leaves, our greasy raven haired boy’s fingers quivered around the spindly stick in his hand. Gave an experimental poke to the half snapped branch swarmed by the smouldering, orange flames. He did not shiver from the cold, but from rampant nerves that pertained to someone he was particularly fond of being there beside him. That person being you.

  In a gloomy haze, stretched over sixteen years, the dependent vacant lot with all of its decaying junk left to rot had become his home away from home. It was somewhere he could come to in order to escape the harshness he had just down the street, riddled with its cluttered and intense violence. The one he had with his parents – if he could ever really call them that – had never been consumed with even an inkling of love or nurturing. It practically rotted away from the inside out with its creaky floorboards, dust riddled insides and the damp lining the walls like a thick winter scarf. A location where he was destined to be neglected in, for the only attention he obtained was to be hollered at by his mother when she was hacked off at whatever or whoever it was that particular time: Whereas his father brandished anything he could in hand to pelt him with. The thought made Johnny shudder, a sick nauseous feeling welling up inside of him. Slimy and cold.

  However, not all was lost. There had been some silver linings in teaching him things such as love, loyalty and camaraderie: His gang of reliable buddies that would stretch to the ends of the Earth for him were the culprits. Although they had nothing too, they gave him everything he’d been missing. Well, almost everything. They were the sole reason he had not run away about a million times by now. They grounded him, created a net of safety and support that he never would have experienced otherwise if he had not been born in this very downtrodden neighbourhood. Yet they could not save him from everything – a harsh reality he came face to face with daily. Nothing and no one could ever replace the lacking love of his parents.

  Nevertheless, the youthful greaser that looked as if he were a puppy that had been kicked one too many times had grown used to bumming around most nights on the busted leather car seat left to waste away in the lot. A frequent bed he now sat upon to gaze up at the glittering stars in the midnight haze of the dark sky. He pondered to himself, watching it while his most favourite person in the world sat off to his right. The silence between you both wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. Just off experiencing your own inner worlds whilst you enjoyed the other’s presence. Johnny wasn’t much of a talker as is. You understood the chips he had on the table and didn’t mind in the slightest, but you had your ways of getting him talking.

  Despite the fact that he had a warmer and much more benevolent destination to crash at nightly: The Curtis House. He felt an immense pang of guilt and shame engulf him entirely at the thought of taking up that space. This house did not consume the same dreamy and abundant riches that one would desire at the core. Instead those fantasies were only destined for reality on the Wicked West Side of Tulsa, Oklahoma. “The home to the rich and greedy,” as Sodapop loved to put it.

  Although the Curtis House lacked in material volume, it oozed a charm in its bare necessities and rundown appearance, with its peeling papered walls and well played piano that needed a miracle of tuning. What it lacked when it came to standardised beauty was made up for by its glowing warmth of love, companionship and acceptance of all the inhabitants that nestled under its rickety roof. It was a safe haven for anyone needing a place to lay low to avoid getting into trouble that could be avoided; a.k.a trouble with the law. Dallas and Steve were also regular inhabitants of the well loved couch perched up against the wall by the front door of the home: A product of powerful tempers that needed quenching. They found solace on that old, brown cushiony hunk of junk just as Johnny did when the nights grew too cold or unbearable on his lonesome.

  Johnny stared up at Orion's Belt wondrously, remembering the time he'd heard Ponyboy rattle on about how he'd woken up to find the notorious Tim Shepard occupying his couch, reading the morning paper.

  'Now, what in the hell was someone like Tim Shepard doin' on the Curtis’ couch?' Johnny thought silently.

  Never had he bagged the likes of the eldest Shepard to reach out for a lifeline like that. It was almost unheard of, unfathomable. Tim was a handsome young man with a gnarly looking scar running from his temple to his chin. He was hard, cold and twisted. Jail, booze and all the criminal endeavours he had under his belt were like a morbid toolkit of how to be the best hoodlum out there. He looked about as capable of accepting charity as a lost soul in Hell. Then Johnny supposed that he never really knew him like Dally did. Johnny's silent disposition made it challenging for him to get close to anyone outside of his gang of buddies. Sometimes he preferred it this way, but usually he loathed it. Loneliness was easy in warping the soul of a good man.

  From what Dally had told him of Tim Shepard, it'd be an immense knock to his swelling pride to reach out for help and have everyone aware of it. Inflated prides and fragile egos didn't do wonders for people with big mouths. Hence why Johnny kept his damn trap shut about it after Pony had told him.

  'Man, he's gotta be pullin' my leg or somethin'.' He said internally before shaking his head.

  Expelling a breath, Johnny settled back into the leather seat as comfortably as possible. He swore he'd get a bad back after opting to take the lumpy side of the car bench with the springs gnawing their way through. It had been the gentlemanly thing to do after all. He was a good guy with a good heart.

  Warmth pervaded nicely from the reasonably sized fire he'd established in front of you both, but the chilly wind licked at any bare bits of skin daring to peer through tiny cracks in clothes. He hardly shivered outside of a nervous twitch. Perhaps that was only due to the fact he'd grown accustomed to the elements no matter the weather – unlike yourself.

  Instead his charcoal eyes were doe-like, shakily flickering to his right where you sat. Only then in this moment did he fully come to the present moment, understanding the cold bit at your nose, ears and fingers in a way that looked cute. Yet despite your shivering that you so desperately attempted to hide, you sat there in all of your beautiful glory with only a few inches of space between you both. A comfortability you bathed in that seemed so raw, as if you were merely sitting on your living room couch with both of your knees and feet tucked under you and just off to the side. Peace prevailed from the tender smile gracing your features. A subconscious practice, you definitely seemed to be lost in your own thoughts. Johnny stared at you, and wondered what kind of movie was flashing behind those pretty eyes to have the sun dawn across your face like that. To him, all he could see was the vacant lot – a desolate place where only hoodlums would hang in droves, drawn in by its trashy grounds.

  "You starin' cuz I got somethin' on my mug or it's just that ugly?" You grinned like a chessy cat, turning to look him directly in the eye. Thinking that being a wise cracker was funny.

  Damn you and your perceptiveness.

  Instantaneously Johnny ripped his gaze from yours, stiff as a plank. Embarrassment dashed across every cell in his body and left his lungs flat of oxygen. Man, if he thought his usual heartbeat was fast, what was happening inside of his chest right then must have been the speed of goddamn light!

  All he could do was stammer out, "U-u-uh n-n-neither!" The poor guy sounded like Porky The Pig. 

  Your eyelids fluttered in astonishment at the stuttering mess of a young man he was. So jumpy. A mouse scuttling around on sharp eggshells. Part of you would've felt proud of your handiwork if it had been anyone else, but it was Johnny, your best friend. "Awe shucks, Johnny-cake," you offered him sheepishly, "I didn't tell you to stop. I was just messin' with ya. Gotta keep you on your toes somehow."

  Messing with him? That was evident. He wasn't cross with you for pulling on his leg, just bothered by himself for getting caught out in the act. "S'okay, I g-get it." He shrugged, trying to play it cool whilst he stared into the portal to the Underworld.

  "Penny for your thoughts?" You tried again, bumping him softly with your shoulder.

  "Nothin' much," He lied smoothly, picking at the hole in his tennis shoe.

  "You sure you ain't developin' the cure for cancer or somethin'? You're pretty smart." You inquired with a cheeky beam.

  "Shoot! Do I look like I know what two plus two equals?" Johnny was getting a little bit sassy.

  "Okay okay, I get it. I'll back off." You chortled.

  'Yeah, thank goodness for that…' Johnny thought to himself. Suddenly he was uneasy with the idea of you ever discovering his little moments of staring at you because he loved the way you looked in candid moments like this one just passed. How did one go about saying these kinds of things? Johnny didn't know a lick. He was a dejected lost cause in the romance department. An awkward bump on a log. Felt he looked cruddy right about now too so he scratched the back of his head fervently for a second. No one really gave him a second glance. He was invisible and too quiet to be noticed.

  Yet he failed to realise that you noticed him.

  His forlorn expression had been obscured by his shaggy bangs that hung on his forehead. In fact, they no longer existed. You watched him struggle with something akin to wrestling a twenty foot gator inside of that skull of his. It made you feel funny on the inside, as if you were to blame. Diligently Johnny picked up the jagged stick he'd used to poke the flames with earlier. Started drawing in the dusty cold dirt at his feet. Back and forth, left and right, then round and round. A tedious therapeutic cycle.

  'Yup, he's off to the moon again.' You thought. 'I'll give him a sec to recoup. I think I made him short circuit a little too hard.' 

  Just then the bleakness of the night pressed its breathy lips against you. You shivered in response, huddling unconsciously to Johnny for his radiator heat. Part of him was shaking too. The flames jolted haphazardly. A violent twirl of dead leaves kicked up into the air before the wind relented altogether and they fluttered into the fire that engulfed them. It was a beautiful sight indeed, albeit destructive. The elements typically were unforgiving. That was the cycle of life. Mother Nature worked in wondrous ways that went beyond the mere perception of the human mind. Ever evolving and always there. It had put a smile on your face, and Johnny looked at you once more.

  "Now, you wanna give me a penny for your thoughts?" He asked.

  You slowly turned to look at him, your smile unwavering, "And cash in my trade secrets when you won't give me yours? That don't tally up to me."

  Johnny shrugged, trying to hide a ghost of a smile on his features, "You just caught me off guard that's all…"

  "Oooooh so I got the element of surprise on my side?" You wiggled your eyebrows. "Who knew I was mighty smooth!"

  Johnny rolled his charcoal eyes, shook his head with a laugh, "Don't get too big headed now," he warned.

  "Why, cuz I'll float away?" 

  "Naw," Johnny shook his head, "You sound like Two-bit."

  Your countenance fell from grace then; all of the humour drained completely, replaced with a sulk. "Now you just went and ruined it."

  Johnny laughed heartily, "I dunno why you got it against him, yn. It was only fifth grade-," 

  "Don't remind me of fifth grade! He put gum in my hair and you saw it." You warned with a finger pointed at him. “I looked like a coconut headed bum for two years, Johnny Cade! Two years I ain’t ever gonna get back.”

  "Alright, alright! Don't shoot." He mumbled with a half smirk on his face.

  "And don't laugh either. Who's side are you on anyway?" You mumbled with your arms folded over your chest.

  Johnny met his match in attempting to swallow the laughter down, "Who knew you were this much of a sore loser," with a shake of his head.

  "Sore loser my ass…" You retorted, looking off to the side like a petulant child.

  All Johnny could do was laugh.

  The sourness of your mood forced you to realise the lateness of the night. The cold showed its first signs of frost that danced mistily away from the firelight. You quivered fully this time, rubbing your nimble hands up and down your arms. "Are you cold?" Johnny finally had the courage to ask.

  "Uh-huh! But I'll be okay."

  "You know you don't have to tough it out for me, right?" Johnny said sincerely. "You shoulda brought a coat. It's November not August."

  "I forgot, mom." You mumbled wryly.

  "Man, don't call me that. It sounds strange." He pulled a face as he spoke.

  "And why not?" You demanded. 

  "Cuz you sound like T-," He began, but you cut him off.

  "Don't even think about saying that name!"

  Despite himself, Johnny was laughing something awful. A grin spread across his face akin to a mixture of pride and victory. He'd bested you in the end and even you knew it. "You asshole-," You muttered, but it all bled through into your own sense of laughter that mingled with his. 

  Then it seemed to die down, a comfortable glow encasing you both. In the midst of it you hardly realised Johnny shimmying beside you – too caught up in the afterglow. But then an uncanny warmth of freshly worn denim was draped over your shoulders. Ghosts of fingertips touched the nape of your neck as it was laid there. Your head turned to find Johnny retracting his hands shyly and passing it off without a word. The gesture touched you, made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

  "Why?" Your better judgement couldn't stop the question from flying out of your mouth.

  Johnny squirmed uncomfortably under your focused stare, "I dunno…" he shrugged. "You were cold and didn't have a jacket. It was the right thing to do I guess."

  The right thing to do. It made you beam beautifully then. Johnny Cade was always doing the right thing. Well, maybe not all the time when he was with his buddies, but usually he did. A good guy with a good heart that made yours flutter at the touch. The act of giving you his most prized possession really touched you in ways that made your eyes begin to water. You needed a second to blink them back. Hoping he hadn't noticed. Luckily he hadn't. 

  You thanked him in the only way you knew how to, by leaning your head on his shoulder. He stiffened to the touch, unfamiliar with it. Johnny wasn't much of a hugger, so physical contact was reserved for special moments. He allowed it this time and you felt his body shake, unsure with what to do with himself. Your fingers wrapped around his bicep, a reassuring squeeze so light it helped him realise you weren't going to hurt him. You never could. He was too special, too gentle, but wild in his own way when he let himself out freely. Yet the person he was now, the boy that gave you his jacket and talked with you the most; that was your Johnny Cade.

  "Thank you, Johnny-cake." You whispered into the air, gently holding his hand and squeezing softly. It was sweaty.

  "D-don't mention it." He swallowed, giving you an experimental squeeze back. "It's just my jacket, softie."

  "Who you callin' softie?" You look up at him with a cocked eyebrow.

  "You."

  Silence befell you, and it was laced in a tranquil dose. Hushed whispers reverberated off of the caverns in your hearts, growing more prominent. All the giggles filled with the springy frolicking of baby lambs. Clumsy and endearing. Johnny lit a fire in you unmatched and vice versa. Young love that was mutual, but unknown to the other. You stayed with him for quite some time, until he walked you home. You'd sent him off with a wave after him shyly telling you to keep it. Made him promise not to sleep out in the cold, and Johnny kept his word. Slunk all the way to the Curtis House three hours before sunup to fortunately find it free. Rest was his, all with a smile screwed on tightly to his features.

  Many more instances of thievery occurred with your pesky little fingers and the growing feelings that possessed you like a restless spirit. Time spent with Johnny became your drug of choice, and you could not get enough of him. No funny business was happening, it was just your personalities melding well together. You brought out a sassy part to him, and surprisingly he could keep up with you. Each meeting was set in colder conditions than the last. Forcing Johnny to bring in what little reinforcements he had. You either seemed to forget a jacket or your layers weren't nearly enough. His jacket was a chameleon's skin, bouncing from his shoulders to yours. His shirts were a comforting reminder of him when he wasn't around – shields against the bleakness of winter. His grey sweatshirt was your favourite. Everything began to accumulate. 

  One day you were both coming from the tracks in the Shepard outfit where a little creek was running through another vacant lot by an old abandoned factory. The water was still frozen and the trees were barren. All sorts of junk stuck to the frosty ground. It was kind of niche-like, a quiet place that seemed abandoned when the sun shone its rays upon Tulsa. It had been an accidental find during a summer day the year before. A superb place to explore when things were warmer and less soggy. Though it was apparent that neither of you had the courage to explore the dangerous insides of the abandoned warehouse in its entirety. Anyone could be lurking there, boobietrapped the innards to protect their stashed hoards. So the pair of you stuck to the outskirts towards the vacant lot beside it.

  There you both were, sat upon a crumpled wall, admiring a winter's afternoon like a pair of Humpty Dumpty’s. The sun was bright in the sky, threatening to melt the world entirely. The first inklings of spring graced reality. The robins were chirping, hopping around in search of food nearby. Adorable feathered critters, so fluffy. They reminded Johnny of Christmas as one turned its neck beside him, curiously looking up into his black eyes. Both were inquisitive of the other.

  "He looks like you-," your half whisper broke out into the air too loudly. The disturbance made the robin jolt and fly off.

  Johnny sighed, "Man, he got so close this time. You just had to go and ruin it didn't you?"

  "I'm sorry. Was there a spiritual connection happening? How rude of me!" You gasped with a hand over your heart.

  He shook his head, grinning because he wasn't angry about it at all. "He was a cute little guy though…"

  "Hence why I said he looked like you." You clarified.

  Johnny exploded with a blush, shaking his head again, "You must've hit your head when you fell on the ice earlier."

  "My head is not any worse off than it was before, thank you very much!" You defended yourself.

  "You know, the first sign of someone tellin’ porkies is denial, right?"

  "I am not tellin’ porkies!"

  "Are too-," Johnny countered, nudging you with his elbow.

  "Am not!"

  Falling back into that effortless banter made you both grin like chessy cats. It was silly, but very much needed. You knew Johnny got extra embarrassed whenever you'd start complimenting him, especially in the looks department. You didn't say these things just to throw him off, but because you truly meant them. Johnny was cute. One of the cutest guys you'd seen in a longtime. Maybe he wasn't moviestar handsome like Sodapop, but girls were missing out when they overlooked him. He had his own things to bring to the table; loyalty, kindness, abiding the law… Just to name a few. You suddenly shook these thoughts out of your head, deciding if you went too deeply down this path that it was best not to be done in Johnny’s presence. Lest you were to blabber about it like you'd done to your other friends who'd told you to ask him out already. They just didn't understand how delicate the matter was really. Johnny wouldn't say yes anyway.

  "Hey look! Those cats are back," Johnny quietly hissed by your side, pulling you out of your daze.

  You followed his line of sight and sure enough the two male felines were there. Lithe in nature and mean looking. A skinny orange tabby trotted forward, a snaggle tooth protruding from his mouth. By his side was his black Bombay counterpart, scraggy bodied with dirty fur and a distinct chip taken from his ear. They were silent, far from their former glory days when they knew what a good home was. The Bombay was a little bigger than his cheddar companion, and it was easily understood by any human looking in that a pact had been formed between them through a necessity to survive. The pair of you had spied them before, a distrusting set that initially hissed and growled. They were all claws and teeth so you kept your distance to avoid any surprise visits to the clinic. However now they seemed to tolerate your presence, acting as if the silence you exuded exempted your existence. Johnny and you admired them, goofy grins on your faces, because the cats were ready to commit their timely crime of hunting for some grub of the day. You knew who they reminded you of.

  "Well if that ain't Dally and Tim," You consciously made the effort to whisper.

  Johnny nodded in agreement, "Yeah, I can see it."

  "Which one's which?" You asked, genuinely curious about Johnny's take.

  He was reluctant to take his eyes off the cats, watching them begin prowling forth towards an unsuspecting robin. "Huh?" he hummed, finally looking at you just as you leaned your head on his shoulder.

  "Which cat is Dally and which one is Tim? You know 'em better than I do." You pressed softly.

  "Oh, that's easy, Dally's the ginger tabby and Tim's the Bombay." He offered with a nod of his head in the felines direction.

  "What why?" You demanded it up at him.

  “Well if we’re goin’ off their looks for a start, Tim looks like the Bombay cat. Guy is a real alley cat – got a lot of street smarts and carries himself well. Besides, he's tougher than a bag of nails.” Johnny did have a point – Tim looked just like that black cat with his curly jet hair.

  Speaking of the black cat, it had entered a state of hunting, kneeling down with coiled taught muscles – just ready to pounce on that unsuspecting robin below, pecking at the seeds you and Johnny had left behind earlier. You hoped it wouldn’t be eaten, couldn’t stomach to see something so savage. However, you supposed that was only the way the circle of life worked.

  “The orange tabby’s Dally cuz of that cool look in his eyes. The way he carries himself so freely. Out of the two, the tabby’s the one that’s in charge somehow. He writes the rules that the other cat’s always tryna best.” Johnny offered with a brief shrug before continuing, “Not that the black cat is following any rules. Both have minds of their own.”

  Boy, you could really hear the way he admired Dallas Winston from the way he spoke about the orange tabby. It was wholesome. Dally was Johnny’s hero — the kid practically worshipped the ground the guy walked on. You didn’t see why. To you, Dallas Winston was a rotten hoodlum with a track record of breaking the law in every way, shape and form that he could. He frightened you like The Boogeyman had when you were nine. Where you both engaged with each other somewhat cordially, you preferred to keep your distance. You supposed that you had no room to judge after all. There was a deep friendship that had developed between him and Johnny; you’d seen it in Dally’s cold hard eyes… affection. It made you grin then, wondering if Johnny thought strangely of your heroes too.

  “And both of them are jackasses.” You countered, bumping his shoulder mischievously.

  Johnny laughed a little, looking at you for a few short moments. “Yeah alright, I’ll give you that.”

  You liked the way he’d described the two though. It was a statement that fit the pair of hoodlums in a peapod together. Yet the orange tabby did appear to be the leader as it licked its wonky chops delectably. Inched closer by the second, a silent assassin to carry out its hunter gatherer lifestyle. It was intelligent, mimicking the movement of the robin that had caught onto it. It lured the bird on a swift and winding course, swiping for it good and hard but missed. Never mind. The robin fluttered up and into the line of sight of the black cat, a moment of fear in its beady eyes. Yet just as the night-like feline swept its razors at it, the robin burst into the air and flew off in the opposite direction. It had missed its meal by a feathers length. Every other robin in the vicinity flew off instantly, leaving the two cats dumbfounded.

  In frustration, the orange tabby yowled and darted forth. Its clawed paw zipped out and popped the mouth of the black cat. The black cat hissed, stunned for a mere second before it lunged for the only comrade it had in this god forsaken world. The two tumbled together in an infuriated Halloween special of blurred fur. A gasp floated from your mouth as they rolled back and forth. A genuine cat fight unheard of. They sounded like two ghouls trying to out spook the other – alien and loud.

  Johnny couldn’t help but laugh out of nervousness. He wasn’t trying to be cruel whatsoever. Didn’t like to see animals fighting and hurting each other, but it humoured some sick part of him. “Just like Dally and Tim, huh? Buddies one minute then at each other’s throats the next.”

  “Amen to that.” You found the humour of the situation, only because it was too similar to the real life hoodlums you both knew.

  You’d seen your fair share of those guys beefing it out in the past together in The Dingo parking lot, let alone practically in your own backyard. They were a strange duo – too competitive and cut from the same cloth. They’d never find another person just like them, that was for sure.

  Just then an icy gust came throttling through the area, reminding you both that it was still winter. A tremor ran through the pair of you, and you huddled together for warmth. By now the cats had slumped off to their own corners of the lot, hissing and growling as they went. Sore egos and bodies made them sulk and mewl in the shade whilst they licked their wounds.

  “Dammit-,” your teeth chattered, moving closer to Johnny. “March my ass…”

  Johnny breathed a laugh, shaking his head. He scanned your features humorously, those bushy brows hidden by a thick blanket of his black greasy bangs that flopped onto his forehead.

  “What?” You mumbled, your fingertips unconsciously reached for him in the space between you both. Johnny didn’t notice.

  He stared at you for a good three seconds before opening his mouth to speak, “How can you be cold with all those layers you got on?”

  “Well I mean it’s obvious, it’s winter.”

  “Uh-huh-,” Johnny sassed, smirking slightly, “As if you ain’t wearin’ my shirt, my sweater and my jeans jacket too. Got the whole department store on your back.”

  Abashment took hold of you as your gaze dropped down to inspect yourself. There was Johnny’s jacket on you, and underneath his tattered grey sweater, that black t-shirt poking up above the collar. And Johnny? He was adorned in a wrinkled white shirt with a blue and creamy egg yellow flannel over the top you guessed was one of the gang’s. Worn over that was Dally’s brown leather jacket with the cosy sheepskin lining. You pouted with a bruised ego, looking off to the side, “It’s not like you’re naked or nothin’…” you murmured petulantly.

  Johnny chuckled breathily, your joined hands jostling as he tugged on it without any semblance of awareness, as if to gain your attention. “Not yet, but I’m gonna be! Man, do you know what I had to say to get this jacket from Dally?” He was teasing you.

  “Mmmppppffff…” you grunted, crossing your legs on that wall.

  “The guys are askin’ questions and I dunno what to tell ‘em any more!” His voice broke a bit before he continued, “Two thinks I’m preparin' to run down the centre of town butt naked!”

  That made you burst out into fits of giggles. The thought was so unorthodox it was hilarious. “You’re tellin’ him that’s the truth right? God, could you imagine? I can see the news articles now: Johnny Cade, Teenage Delinquent Gone Buck Wild!” You beamed, throwing your free hand out to elaborate some unseen picture.

  Johnny shook his head again, laughing with you, “Man, you’re just as bad as Soda!”

  “I’m twice as good looking too!” You offered with all the cheekiness you could muster.

  All he could offer was an entertained roll of his eyes. Your shoulders bumped together, old comrades turned into something more. His soft gaze fell onto your interwoven fingers, and his heart fluttered like dove wings. A widened gaze, then that notorious blush exploded under that tanned flesh. His mind was incapable of functioning. It was wholesome, but you read everything wrong. Made a move to release his hand and he stopped you.

  "Don't." It was the strongest word you'd heard from him as he held your hand tighter than he ever had before. Not enough to hurt you, but to let you know it was real too.

  "Y-you sure?" It was your turn to stutter.

  The look he shared with you may have been wavering to some degree, but there was certainty in those eyes. His mouth opened to speak, "Yeah, I don't mind one bit."

   I don't mind one bit. It ran round and round in your head. A starstruck expression invaded your beautiful countenance. The reassurance was a bonus that made your belly fill with a plethora of butterflies. Cloud nine had nothing on this moment.

  Johnny explored the expressions flitting across your face with a newfound sense of wonder. That pleasant delight racing through you was infectious as you stared off into the junk riddled vacant lot, your mind preoccupied with his hand in yours. The sun dawned across your features once again, like that autumn night you'd spent with him in your neighbourhood's vacant lot. The understanding that he was the source of that made his belly squirm, a giddiness overcoming him. He could no longer deny the fondness he had for you so blatantly.

  With him leaning a little closer to you, he whispered, "How about you give me at least some of my stuff back?" 

  "Mmmmm maybe,"

  "yn-," there was an uncommon sense of sternness in his voice.

  "But-," You tried objecting.

  "No buts-," he rushed out with a shake of his head, "At least give me one! I've been wearing this shirt for three days now!" He was hilariously incredulous.

  "Is that why you stink?" You taunted him.

  "Not funny-," He made his best attempt to be cross with you.

  "Okay, okay! I'll give them back." You said begrudgingly.

  "You better bring the cavalry with how much you have stolen from me, you little shirt thief."

  "In my defence, you did give them to me… But I'll have them for you next time I see you, scouts honour!" You spoke sincerely with your free hand held dramatically over your heart.

  "Uh-huh, that's what you said last time and I still didn't get 'em back." He bantered.

  "Well, that wasn't a real scout's honour." You admitted with a diffident rub to the back of your head.

  "yn-," he shook his head.

  "Hey! I'm serious this time."

  "Good…" He trailed off, his other hand beginning to play with the rings banded around your fingers absentmindedly.

  Blissfulness carried upon the wind, a promise of returning what wasn't yours already settled. Golden light broke through the clouds, catching Johnny in the face directly, which made him grimace evidently. You grew lost in his handsome physique, feeling the pad of his thumb drag up and down the back of your hand. The sensation was special, because Johnny had warmed up to you so much.

  It was a lively Saturday night, and with the determined honour of a scout member, you showed up like clockwork with a bag filled with Johnny's things. It was just as the crowds at The Nightly Double encroached upon the Tulsa streets in boisterous droves. Everyone was high on the giddy delight of the movie they had just watched – the late night viewing of two specials before the drive-in closed its doors for the night. Previous arrangements with another friend had you missing out on the fun, but here you were wearing your very own leather jacket with Johnny's denim one bunched up nervously in the palms of your hands. Speaking of Johnny, he had tagged along with the gang – minus Darry, because movies seemed to bore the older man to death.

  A pair of scrawny looking Socy guys stalked out of the front doors, acting like big shots, cutting in front of a dark green Corvair on its way out and into the oncoming traffic. The driver of the same social class hung out of the driver's window whilst his girl attempted to pull him back in.

  "Hey watch it, wise guys! If you're lookin' to get your asses run over, then be my guests and step back in my line of sight!" He snarled aggressively before his girlfriend won the battle and pulled him back inside to tell him to "knock it off".

  A line began to form behind them as the couple argued incessantly, presumably over the guy's foul temper. Car horns honked on the spring breeze, forcing the guy to nervously step on the gas. They almost crashed into a Chevy Impala before zipping off home. You could see the animated scowl of the girl refusing to talk to her boyfriend in the side view mirror as they retreated. She glowered at you as if you were the scum of the earth. It didn't make you feel too hot.

  The two wisecracking Soc's cackled at their attempts at being hard, stalking forth when they caught sight of your lonesome form. Vile cackles were shot your way as they walked past you before deciding the better option was to encircle you like a couple of hammerhead sharks.

  'Boy, these dingbats don't know what tree they're barking up.' You thought, stiffening your body up for any form of unexpected physical contact. You weren't gonna let yourself get blown over that easy. 

  "What's up, greaser? You lookin' to bum around on our streets?" The six foot tall pencil with the sour breath sneered down at you, bumping your shoulder, making a come around to your left. When he disappeared behind you, the other one with chestnut hair the texture of straw invaded your face.

  "Yeah, who said you were allowed round these parts anyway?" He jeered, smacking his gum obnoxiously.

  Typically these dorks wouldn't have been graced with so much of your attention, but being on your own with a whole sea of onlookers made you weary. However you sure didn't show it. No one was there to stand up for you so you had to do it yourself. All you could do was raise your eyebrows, feeling the burning sense of humiliation rise from the pits of hell beneath your feet. It felt toasty, but the wrong kind. A glower of pure vexation was sent up their way. 'Who are these cocky jackasses, anyway? I've got the same right to use these streets like anyone else!' You contemplated.

  "Oh really? I never knew white trash chequerboards like yourselves owned the streets everybody walks on." Your lips flapped wryly before you could even say a word.

  The entertained gazes of onlookers of every social class stopped to stare. Murmurs of speculation broke out: Two against one didn't typically seem like a fair fight, but with the sheer scrawniness of the socially elite, it seemed to look like the chips fell in your favour. Though you knew appearances could be deceiving, harbouring a surprising sense of physical strength.

  In a rift of the crowd, six pairs of familiar eyes honed in on your shining moment of unprovoked confrontation.

  "White trash chequerboards?!" The pencil growled out, sharing a glance with his straw haired counterpart. For the most part they were dumbfounded, not having expected you to stand up for yourself.

  "If anyone's white trash, it's you, greaseball." The second one jutted his finger in your face.

  Nothing about your countenance betrayed you. Cold and detached you stared at that finger in your face with a deep sense of boredom. Then an almost smug smirk etched your features as you stared up into his grey eyes.

  "Oh my, my!" A dripping sense of mocking venom entered your tone. "Seems like I got more class than that finger you got pointed at me. Seriously, you got a licence to be armed with carryin' that thing? You better watch what you do with it before it falls into the wrong hands. You know, because with great power comes great responsibility and all." You were armed with so much sass it made you invincible.

  The crowd surrounding you burst into a fit of laughter so potent that it burnt these punks into a startled pile of ash. The pair of Soc's were so vapid that they were a bore even to themselves, which is why they were acting out as if they were five times their sizes. You were lively, armed with a silver tongue that could slice just about anyone to pieces who tried to humiliate you.

  "Oh yeah, you little punk?" The first one growled, invading all sense of your personal space.

  You took one step back, your eyebrows raised, "It's his responsibility, not mine. Whatch'yu gettin' all riled up for, eh? Can't take a joke, Mister Funny?"

  "I'll show you a joke when I knock your two front teeth out." He barked.

  Oooh's and aaah's broke through the crowd on a symphony of guffawing. You cocked one eyebrow up at him, a cockiness overcoming you. What could you do otherwise? If no one had your back, you had to have your own. That was just the way the cookie crumbled when you were a greaser – if there was a cookie at all.

  "Oooooh~ Don't threaten me with a good time, pencil dick." You snorted. "I will bend your ass like a goddamn pretzel before you can even have a chance to beg for your mommy to save you."

  The two guys shared a look, the degradation burning their senses of pride to withering embers. Their faces were pinkened beyond recognition, boarding on a fiery red. Your insults only poured gasoline on the fires. They couldn't back out now with the engrossed mass around the three of you. Your body stiffened as they went to grab you, preparing yourself for a fight that would no doubt cause the fuzz to come shutting it down. The image of yourself being cuffed in the back of a cop car had you overcome with a sense of terror. You weren't made for jail with your sharp tongue and sass. Wouldn't last two seconds flat in a grim place like that.

  Before any contact could occur, a boisterous New York accent throttled into the air, a familiar arm slinking over your shoulders, "Hey Dumb and Dumber, you really wanna go gettin' your asses handed to you by a girl in front of all of these people?" Dallas was snickering with a smoke hanging out of his mouth, leaning against you smoothly as he patted your upper arm, but he wasn't your only saviour.

  The other five lean and hard looking members of the Curtis gang had rolled up in all of their greasy headed glory. Pony and Johnny were Dally's flanks whilst Sodapop and Steve jammed themselves on either side of the pathetic turkeys that had bothered you. Two-bit prowled like a cat, that smug, wild grin carved onto his handsome features. The oldest of the six came in the centre of the perpetrators, an arm slung on each of their shoulders. It was overly friendly, even for Two.

  "Well, well, well, if it ain't the socially elite barking up a tree they didn't know was a mountain! I'd get your eyes checked if I were you." He laughed, squeezing them together under his impressive arms. The others joined in.

  "I think it's time these tuff lookin' sons of bitches got in the ring with the big shots." Steve yipped sarcastically, clapping the straw haired guy on the back a little too roughly.

  "Lookin' like a bunch of heavyweight champs, am I right?" Soda leered, his once kind blue eyes filled with a mischievous malice.

  The two Soc's looked at each other, realising they'd made a mistake in targeting you. "We don't want any trouble." The first one said, fumbling.

  "Yeah! We was only just jokin' around." The other made a pitiful attempt at joining in on the laughter.

  "Oh really now?" Dally quipped through dragon's breath, plucking his smoke from his lips and wiping the back of his index finger under his nose like he was annoyed. "I call bullshit, beanpole. Ain't that right, Johnny?" Dally asked Johnny, motioning towards him.

  With a black gaze as cold as obsidian, Johnny nodded his head, "Sure thing, Dally." He refused to take his gaze off of the perpetrators who recognised that hoodlum's menacing name anywhere.

  "Pony?" Dally turned, looking over your head at the fourteen year old greaser with the greyish green eyes. He put that smoke back in between his lips and inhaled sharply.

  "Yup!" Pony popped the 'p' at the end of the word.

  "Great, it's settled!" Dally exclaimed, pulling his arm from over your shoulders and rubbing his hands together like a fly with an evil plan. He stepped forward, his face a mere couple of inches from theirs. "You dumbasses get to go toe to toe with me for fucking with the wrong person, and then my buddies will have what's left of you. How do you like the sound of that?" 

  The way Dally seethed it even had you shaking in your boots. There was almost a sense of honour riding on your guts. It wasn't everyday that Dallas Winston was standing up for you, but when it happened you took it willingly. The two guys had become pale ghosts, shuddering with sweat dewing their foreheads. Dally meant those words, but it seemed he was mainly toying with them. So were the rest of the gang too. With matching Cheshire grins plastered on their faces they watched as the two shoved past Soda, tripping over the boot Johnny had stuck out and shot in through an opening in the crowd to salvation. Sent to faceplant on the ground with a series of laughter as the drama seemed to be over for the most part and people lost interest.

  "Where are you goin'? Wait until we set her on ya!" Sodapop called, wrapping his arm around Steve's shoulders. 

  "Yeah, she may seem like she’s all bark, but she's got one hell of a bite!" Steve cackled.

  Lost in an ocean of chaos, Johnny's inquiry of concern for you slithered back down his throat. He bled into the background, admiring the way your eyes rolled as the wisecracking descended upon you.

  "The hell was that, kid?" Dally said between inhaling his smoke. Rubbing the top of your head with his ringed fingers awarded him with a generous shove from you. His treatment hurt, but he was happy to see you, which was unusual.

  "Get offa me-," You grunted and he eventually relented.

  Before Steve could chime in about you being a smart ass or wandering around on your lonesome, your most dreaded member of the gang came blundering on over. A half drunken stupor holding him up by some invisible string, "Haha! Where did you learn to talk like that? Dare I say you got some inspiration from somebody in particular?" He waggled his eyebrows at you.

  "Oh, well ain't those the biggest words you’ve ever said! Ugh, don’t make me sick, two cents." You bit at him.

  "Eh, at least I'm worth somethin' in this world." He chuckled, clapping your shoulder.

  "That was meant to be an insult." You retorted.

  "Really? That's a whole compliment and a half!" He exclaimed with his arms thrown up.

  "Yeah yn, I sure can hear the church bells ringin' right now!" Soda grinned at you, cupping his free hand over his ear. In fact, to seal the deal he wrapped his arm around your shoulders as the seven of you began walking to your neighbourhood.

  Steve came up on the other side, walking the tight line of the curb, "From haters to lovers!" He beamed, spreading his palms out in the open space before you like he was presenting a far away picture. "It all started when you were in fifth grade and he was in sixth, gum to the hair, a pop to the mouth and the rest was history!"

  Johnny listened and observed, laughing halfheartedly along with his buddies. Something about Soda's and Steve's words tugged on his heartstrings in a plucking fashion. It was uncomfortable and didn't sit right with him. Yet he couldn't be too mopey about it, it wasn't like anybody knew his growing feelings for you. By now there was a confusion in your friendship, as if all these special moments you'd experienced together had evolved the friendship into something else. He was afraid of what that meant. Things would never be the same ever again, and he found himself eyeing up the bag full of his clothes on your shoulder and his jeans jacket wadded into your hand.

  Well, at least your promise had been genuine this time.

  If you weren't riled up before you were now. A sucker punch to the gut was minutely dodged by Steve, who hopped to safety behind Dallas like a kangaroo. Being surrounded by people you knew was nice as the mood settled somewhat. Johnny found his natural place to the left of you, keeping in time with your easy pace.

  Sodapop raised his eyebrows and asked the question everyone had been wondering, "Hey yn, what were you doing there all alone?"

  "Ain't that Steve's line?" You quipped.

  “Gettin’ to be more and more like Ponyboy everyday, yn!” Steve warned, messing up Pony’s hair for comedic relief.

  Pony was certainly not pleased, pulling his comb out of his back pocket and using the sideview mirror of a car to fix his hair in the dark. “Stupid Steve…” grumbled past his lips.

  “What was that?” Steve barked next to Soda.

  “Nothin’, said I looked stupid…” He lied with burnt cheeks and ears to match.

  "That's what I thought, little guy." Steve stared at him.

  Once the commotion had somewhat settled Dally eyed you up and spoke through his smoke, “Soda’s got a point. What were you doing there?” He noticed that bag over your shoulder and whistled, “Did your goody two shoes ass get kicked out or are you just droppin’ by to bid your farewells on us common folk before you skip town?”

  Put on the spot, you hesitated for a second, “Uh, I just came to see Johnny.”

  “With the entire mall's inventory?” Two grinned wickedly, pressing for more information. "Johnny's become quite the charity case lately." He teased, noogying Johnny playfully who shrugged him off with a small laugh.

  “Hey wait a sec, isn't that Johnny’s jeans jacket?” Pony spoke up once his precious hair had been rearranged.

  Dallas’s pesky fingers swiped the jacket in your hands with a mind of his own – and like a chimp, he examined its authentication closely. The five other members gathered around him as if he held the fifth wonder, which left you and Johnny with the liberation of simultaneously backing up at the edges of the throng. “You wanna make a break for it?” You hissed your suggestion at Johnny, who nodded his head.

  That’s when five heads whipped up with dumbfounded expressions. This was Johnny’s jacket! The one he said he’d lost. Soda’s eyes were the first to eye up that bag strapped to your shoulder, a familiar grey sweater poking out through the zipper that wouldn't close properly. “Hold on one stinkin’ minute.” Realisation hit him with a dopey grin.

  Two caught on next, his hand grasping the bag strap and pulling it from your shoulder. In the same motion he’d freed the grey sweater from the confines, only to find more clothes underneath. “Haha!” He cackled noisily, “You’re the one who’s been swiping his clothes? You sly fox!”

  “Johnny and yn sitting in a tree-,” Steve cackled, only to get cut off by Dally who smacked him in the chest.

  “What are you man, four?”

  “Four?! I’ll show you four!”

  “Oh glory-,” You mumbled, looking at Johnny, “I think I made a mistake.”

  “You think?” He hissed, his tone was somewhat biting, looking scared stiff for the incoming of terrible teasing.

  "Johnny's got a girlfriend! Johnny's got a girlfriend!" Soda and Two started chanting, patting and shaking their pal with enthusiasm. It wasn't long before the other three started in on it too. The chant of the year belted out from strong chests on shrill wails of hyena laughter.

  "Check him out, famous ladies man! I knew you had it in ya Johnny." Dally clapped his back.

  "Should've known you were stealing my girl, Johnny." Two teased. "You can have her the first five days of the week, but I call dibs on weekends! That's when she gets extra sassy."

  "In your dreams, two shits." You barked.

  "I dream of sixth grade every night!" Two swooned, making you laugh.

  Johnny was as red as a beet, even Ponyboy couldn’t contain his laughter. 'Boy, do we have something to tell Darry!' Pony's and Soda's eyes gleamed dazzlingly.

  "Eh, guess you won't be needing this!" Dally grinned from behind you both, softly tugging on his leather jacket Johnny was wearing. In one fell swoop it was off of his shoulders and draped over Dally’s humble forearm.

  “Here you go, young sire!” Sodapop bowed with a roll of his hand, an English accent flawlessly executed.

   In came Steve on one knee, holding up the humble denim article he'd swiped from Dally's pesky digits. “Oh Johnny, with all of my love for you, will you take this humble offer?” he exclaimed dramatically.

  Johnny snatched the jacket from Steve’s gripey hands, along with the bag of his shirts you’d brought along from Two-bit. He was embarrassed, that was evident. Wished you’d done this at a different time, but hey, duty called; a promise was a promise. Scout’s honour, right?

  Without even thinking he grabbed your hand in his, reeling you away from the madness, all sassy. “Alright, that’s enough now!”

  A chorus of wolf whistles expelled into the air. Wildness evident in the five guys who'd grown up with the both of you. They were just playing of course, excited that Johnny finally had a lady in hand. It wasn't often the raven haired greaser picked someone up, let alone initiated any physical contact – romantically of course. Johnny had always been quite reserved, but here he was taking the initiative, pulling you around in the opposite direction of them. Surprisingly assertive despite him shaking like a goddamn ghost.

  You guys got maybe a few feet away when Dallas called out on the wind, “Hey yn, you better not be takin’ off the clothes on Johnny's body or he’ll be arrested for public indecency!”

  "I said that's enough!" Johnny called back, heat vivid on his cheeks.

  With that you both escaped around the next corner, the gang's calls and laughter fading into the background. Dipped into an alleyway to lose them for good. Glory knew they'd follow you both, and Johnny couldn't bear the thought of that. There was exhilaration in your chests. Johnny's hand was hot and sweaty in yours when you wound onto Pickett and Sutton. The air felt tight and you were afraid you'd just made an inconsolable mess of everything.

  “Honest to God Johnny, that wasn’t planned-,”

  He was sour, scrunching up his face, “Shoulda just let you keep these things.” He said with a smile pulling up the corners of his mouth. “They looked better on you anyway.”

  “Johnny Cade,” you gasped, stopping in the middle of the street, the yellow light from above illuminating you both, “was that you flirting with me?”

  Albeit clumsy, he was endearing. “Maybe, I dunno.” His cheesy grin warmed your heart.

  All you could do was gawk at him.

  “Look, all I know is that I kinda don’t mind you stealing my crap, okay?”

  “So I have special authority to steal? What is this, a secret mission for your girlfriend?” You grasped onto his arm, leaning into him.

  Girlfriend settled in the air in a peculiar fashion. It had never been uttered before, you both had just been friends up until this point. The confusion between you both seemed to fizzle away. The term sounded right. Johnny didn't want to be your friend any more, the guy on the sidelines dreaming of being with you. He swallowed thickly, looking at you.

  "I'm sorry I-," he cut you short.

  "Nah don't be." He shook his head softly.

  "So uh," you breathed a laugh, "that means we're like dating? " You tested the word on your tongue.

  He exploded with a blush, and a sense of pride swelled in your heart. "Y-yeah-," he nodded softly.

  It went quiet, but nothing was awkward about it. Two hearts galloped like wild horses through summer filled fields. You found the courage to speak first, whispering mischievously into his ear, "So what about that secret mission?"

  Johnny rolled his eyes, but breathy humour expelled from his lips, “Operation Shirt Thief!” He said in his best movie man trailer voice.

  You burst out in a fit of giggles, the walk home feeling bountiful and warm.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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[beneathstarryskies]

Summary: It's been centuries since Ganondorf's victory in bringing Hyrule to its knees. However, victory is lonelier than he'd anticipated. The once great Demon King is a shadow of his former self, drinking his way through the castle's wine cellars and mumbling to himself in the dark. That is until one brave stranger wanders through the castle gates, led by curiosity...Or perhaps fate.

Word Count: 5,002

Warnings: mentions of violence, depression, Ganondorf is a recluse, beauty and the beast AU, might be OOC but i don't care this idea wouldn't leave me alone until i wrote it so here we are, overall it's pretty PG

Taglist: @emmacornell, @actuallysaiyan

In the remnants of a castle once grand but now desolate, Ganondorf wanders the halls alone. Some days he is focused on working his way through the wine cellar, but other days he mutters quietly as he wonders where it all had gone wrong. He’d achieved everything he wanted. He sits upon the throne of Hyrule, the entire realm under his control, yet as centuries pass the emptiness in his chest persists. Even the people of the realm stretching from the deserts of Gerudo to the flatlands of Akkala noticed the grip of the once fearsome ruler lessening. Only occasionally would he exert his dominance again, as though only to remind them he is still present. Even the darkness of his gloom seemed to fade from the landscape as life returned to normal for the people of the realm. Tales of the great demon king who once took over the kingdom are still passed from grandparents' mouths to the eager ears of children, but Ganondorf as they speak of him almost feels like fiction. 

It was this sense of safety and curiosity that led you to Hyrule Fields. A thin layer of snow is falling on the landscape as you walk through the fields. Your eyes widen as you see the castle, and the now-empty town surrounding it. The walls are covered in a thick layer of ivy vines, now brown and barren from the cold air. You carefully walk forward, tiptoeing past the gloomy black and red sludge as you pass through the gates. As you explore the once great Castle Town, you remember the stories you’d been told as a child. The horrible stories of a great big demon who took the form of a horrible pig. Every little noise sent your mind into a frightened frenzy, and you were beginning to wonder if staying here much longer was worth indulging your long-held curiosity about the castle. 

Ganondorf became aware of the intrusion when he wandered outside of the master bedroom onto the balcony. He looked down to see the tiny form of a Hyrulian woman poking around the old stalls in the market. Every so often he noticed her flinching and looking around as though frightened. Her attention soon turned to the wide doors of the castle. He recognized her intentions almost immediately, and he threw on a cloak to meet her at the door. 

When you push open the double doors, you let out a squeak of surprise at the large figure looming at the bottom of the stairs. Long red hair falls in front of his face and glowing yellow eyes stare at you with malice as he growls. 

“What are you doing here?” his voice, even as a whisper, echoes through the empty halls. 

“I’m sorry,” you stammer as you try to back away. You trip over your own feet and fall backward.  Just before you hit the ground, a large hand catches the front of your cloak. Suddenly, your feet are no longer on the ground. Ganondorf lifts you to force you to look into his eyes. 

“I asked a question, little one,” he snarls. “What are you doing here?” 

“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” you stammer as your hands instinctively come to his wrist, grabbing on in case he drops you. “I thought--” 

“You thought the castle to be empty,” he finishes your thought. “Perhaps I have been too kind to your people, allowing them to live too comfortably. My existence having been relegated to folklore and legend, is that it?” 

“No!” you cry out, the thought of your kingdom being punished for your stupidity makes your skin crawl and your chest tightens with guilt. “No, it’s just…Me…I was curious.” 

“Oh,” he pulls you closer. “Curious? You wish to see my castle?” 

His words lull you into a false sense of comfort as you mistake his annoyance for understanding, “Yes, your Highness.” 

“I see, little one,” he throws you over his shoulder. “You wish to see my castle and know its secrets. I see…Well, I shall make sure you spend all the time you have left within the walls of this castle.” 

He walks you upstairs and tosses you into an empty bedroom. Before you can scramble to your feet the door is being slammed shut, and you hear the unmistakable click of a lock trapping you inside. You crawl to the door, standing on your knees as you bang on it desperately with shaking fists. 

“Please,” you call out. “I’m sorry! Please let me out! I’ll leave! I promise I won’t tell anyone I saw you!” 

Your cries and pleas fall on deaf ears. Ganondorf closed himself off to emotions like pity and empathy long ago. He ascends the remaining stairs to go to the master bedroom once more. He grabs his earlier forgotten bottle of wine and throws himself into his chair. He throws his head back and finishes the bottle in one long gulp. His heart is racing as he thinks about you. Your pitiful eyes as you tried to explain yourself, and then your tiny hands on his wrist to cling to stability. There’s something about your curiosity and bravery that piqued his interest. He can’t remember the last time someone ventured to the castle. 

Your cries and pleas continue for hours until you wear yourself out from exhaustion. You crawl onto the old bed and you begin sobbing until you fall asleep. 

_____

Ganondorf awakens when the sun is high in the sky. He has almost forgotten about having locked you away. You on the other hand have been awake since dawn. You’ve torn the room apart in search of some sort of escape. Realizing the king had you locked up tight, you felt a wave of defeat crash over you. 

“Damn it all,” you cried out and fell onto the bed with an annoyed sigh. Tears sting your eyes, but you try to hold them back. 

You could feel Ganondorf approaching before you could see him. His looming presence was difficult to ignore. He pushed the door open, not feeling even a moment of remorse as he saw your pathetic form on the bed. 

“You’re lucky it’s been ages since I’ve had anyone in this castle,” he speaks. “I require a new servant.” 

You sit up on the bed, turning to him with a look of indignation. 

“Who says I’m trying to become a servant?” you ask. Immediately you regret the question when his eyes begin to glow with anger. He reaches out to grab you by the collar of your dress, and easily he lifts you off the ground just like before. 

“The alternative is death,” he growls. 

You had no choice but to give in to him. He drops you back onto the bed before turning away. His imposing figure stalks to the door, only stopping for a moment to look over his shoulder at you. 

“Start by cooking breakfast,” he says, his voice a perpetual growl. 

You don’t know what else to do. There’s not much you can do besides go along with his orders. You go downstairs, and it takes a bit of searching before you find the kitchen. There’s almost no food in the pantries, only a few things you assume he must have gathered on his own at some point, or perhaps those from neighboring villages brought in the goods as offerings. You’re staring up at the shelves trying to plan a meal when his shadow looms over you. 

“A farmer nearby brings supplies,” his voice booms through the pantry. “In return, I keep the monsters off his sheep.” 

“Why would you?” 

He answers your question with another, “What threat does a farmer hold to my rule?” 

You don’t turn to him, instead, you reach up to the high shelf where there’s a bag of flour to try to reach it. You expect him to help you, but he doesn’t. He stands back and smirks as you climb up the shelves to grab the bag of flour and start to pull it slowly in the hope you can shimmy it down. Instead, it falls and bursts on the floor. 

“Now you have a breakfast to cook and a mess to clean,” he chuckles. “It’s good to see you can keep yourself busy.” 

He leaves you alone, and you manage to clean up. Then, you cook a nice meal considering what little you have to work with. After that, he tells you to pick a room and begin cleaning. 

The days continue in this manner. You cook and clean in the castle. Occasionally you manage to tease some semblance of conversation from him, if grunts and the occasional sarcastic quip can be considered as such. To your surprise, he’s not cruel to you. He’s just cold, almost apathetic as far as you can tell. You’re mostly kept to your own devices, which is lonely. As long as you do the chores, he doesn’t have much to say. 

Considering his indifference, you didn’t think he would put in any effort to stop your escape. Being able to explore the castle on your own for so many hours of the day, it had taken you a week to muster up the courage to try to leave. However, as soon as you passed through the gate gloom hands surprised you and dragged you back to your quarters. If he had known of your attempt to escape, he never spoke a word of it to you. 

_____

Ganondorf isn’t accustomed to having company anymore. The centuries have passed, and his former companions have fallen by the wayside. Either having fallen in battle or to the ravages of time. He tells himself he’s a lonely old fool the first time his heart races when you attempt to make casual conversation with him. 

His heart pounds even more so when you shyly ask if he misses being in Gerudo Town. Nobody over the years ever had the bravery to ask such a deeply personal question. You were sitting on the sofa by the fire mending a hole in your skirt when the question fell from your lips as simply as asking if the sky is blue. He looked up from the flames. 

“What a bold question little one,” he commented as he took a deep breath to prepare his answer. “I miss my sisters most of all, but none of the sisters I knew are living any longer. Those who inhabit that place are now strangers to me as I am to them.” 

A pang of sadness hits your chest, “Are there other things you miss?” 

“No, not necessarily. The blistering sun and unforgiving sands hold no sentiment except for how they made me strong.” 

“I see,” you say and quickly return to mending your clothes. 

“You need more attire,” he says. 

“You don’t need to worry about that.” 

“Ah, but you’re wrong. It is because of me that you are here, therefore it is my responsibility to care for you.” 

Your mind feels blank for a moment. Was that kindness? From the mouth of the demon king himself? Before you can say anything, he rises from his seat. He doesn’t bid you goodnight before disappearing. Nor do you notice him locking the castle up like he usually does at night. 

The next morning when you awaken, there’s a a pile of neatly folded clothes placed on the armchair in your room. You look through the clothes carefully. Among the more casual pants and blouses, you also find a beautiful gown. The material is soft, emerald green with gold floral embroidery along the hems. You assume it must have been by mistake that he brought something so elegant and beautiful to you. With great care, you hang the gown in the wardrobe, where among the shelves you find a new pair of shoes and a winter cloak. 

You get ready for your day, dressing in the new clothes he brought, and then busy yourself with chores. It’s nearly night when you hear Ganondorf stir. Looking to thank him for his gesture, you quickly make your way towards the staircase to greet him. However, the words are caught in your throat when you see him. 

He’s dressed in a fine, majestic robe. You recognize the patterns on it as being Gerudo. His hair is tied back, and the red beard that had been down to his chest when you arrived is neatly trimmed back up to his jawline. 

“Did you have something to say?” he asks, hoping to put a stop to your wide-eyed gaping. How long has it been since someone looked upon him with awe rather than fear? 

“Y-you look nice,” you smile shyly, having forgotten your original intentions for the moment. 

“Ah, yes,” he nods. 

You look down to the floor again then the thoughts return to your mind. You bounce softly on your toes and your eyes light up. 

“Thank you for bringing me new clothes!” 

“I told you I would,” he comes down the rest of the stairs and looks down on you but not with malice. “Did you find the gown?” 

Your eyes widen. So it hadn’t been a mistake? 

“Y-yes, I did! It’s so beautiful.” 

“I was hoping you’d wear it tonight,” he doesn’t sound as authoritative as he’d hoped to. 

“Oh, sure. I’ll put it on after dinner.” 

“No, don’t worry about dinner. Go change now.” 

With a short, courteous bow you make your exit. Upstairs in your room, you quickly bathe and then slip into the beautiful gown. Upon inspecting your appearance, you decide a bit more effort needs to go into it if you’re to wear such an opulent outfit. You brush your hair and braid it neatly.

 As you set to work on your appearance, you wonder what Ganondorf has planned for the evening. You’ve never seen him quite so…Handsome. He’s all cleaned up and dressed like the true king he is. Surely he wouldn’t go to so much effort for you, would he? No, you tell yourself that’s not possible. Perhaps he’s just having a bit of fun with you. After all, he’s been in this castle by himself for centuries. It would make sense for him to take to a bit of fanciness since he has someone around to share it with. 

Somehow imagining him seeing you as more than just a servant makes your heart flutter. You tell yourself you must be insane for thinking this way. Yet, he’s become more than a master to you. You’ve spent long nights sitting by the fire, listening to his tales of times long past. Somewhere among hearing his childhood tales of starvation and heat among his people and witnessing the opulence Hyrule hoarded, you began to understand his anger. Perhaps you couldn’t fully condone his path, but you could understand why he would grow to desire the conquering of the kingdom. You began to see through the dark, foreboding reputation of the demon king. 

As you descend the stairs, you notice more light in the castle than you’re used to at this time of night. The grand chandelier in the main hall has been lit along with the chandeliers on the stone walls throughout the corridor leading into the ballroom, as though lighting your path. As you open the large double doors, you see a dining table set up by the large windows looking out onto the courtyard. It’s filled to the brim with fruit, cheese, and dried meats. A bottle of wine is chilled by two glasses. Ganondorf stands nearby, his back straight as he stares out the window with his hands locked behind him. 

“Your majesty,” you say to get his attention. 

He turns to you, his eyes widening momentarily before his face returns to being neutral. 

“You look lovely,” he whispers, almost too quiet for you to hear it. You bow politely. 

“Thank you,” you smile. 

“I have set up dinner,” he explains. “You asked me once what it was like being the king of the Gerudo. I thought I would show you how I ate then.” 

“Oh?” You approach the table, and he quickly pulls the chair out for you. You thank him as you sit down. 

“The heat was intense. So, I often tried to eat light yet still filling meals. I ate considerably more than this, of course, but I thought you’d appreciate having more variety.” 

“You put this together?” 

He smiles as he begins pouring the wine, “Yes, of course. Can’t I do things for myself? Or do you wish to take care of me completely?” 

Your cheeks heat up at his double entendre. It takes you a moment to regain your bearings, trying not to imagine what all ‘taking care’ of him might entail. 

“I suppose it’s just unexpected.” 

He places a glass of wine by your hand, and you hear a deep chuckle from him as he sits across from you. 

“Believe it or not, back then I didn’t have many servants. The Gerudo people are prideful therefore believe it or not, they didn’t bow to me like I was a child in need of praise. I was proud to be self-sufficient.” 

“I see,” you smile. “So, what is all this?” you gesture to the ballroom all lit up and with a few flower arrangements scattered about.

“I thought you might enjoy a bit of grandeur,” he sighs. “Must you ask so many questions?” 

Your cheeks burn as you look down at your plate, “I only wished to know.” 

“All in due time,” he answers before beginning to pile his plate with food. 

You follow along, taking a bit of all of the offerings. It was a nice, light meal. Leaving you full, yet still energetic instead of ready to fall asleep in your chair. The wine made your cheeks burn and your muscles feel loose. Ganondorf encourages you to eat more if you need more, and you’re surprised by the way he seems to be taking such care of you even though he doesn’t seem the kind to have a caring bone in his body. 

After the two of you finish your meals, he takes your hand and leads you to the middle of the ballroom. He explains that he wishes to teach you some of the traditional Gerudo dances. He explains how often in his time as King, the dances would be performed with two women. However, as time passed and the Gerudo became more focused on finding husbands they began altering the steps. 

“Women are strong and can stand on their own, but I suppose as time passed they wanted to be more meek to attract husbands,” he explains as he shows you the steps as intended which would see your hips swaying carelessly. “Are you meek?” he asks with a teasing smile. 

“For you?” you giggle. “I think not.” 

He laughs, surprising you deeply yet thrilling you none the same. Soon he has you pulled close as you perform the steps as he’d showed you. One large hand rests on the small of your back as he guides you to move along with him. The ballroom is large, and it’s perfect for what he does. Every corner is explored by the gentle tapping of your feet, barely out of synch considering the difference in your size. 

“Come,” he says as he pulls you closer. He gently guides you to stand on his feet. The weight doesn’t seem to bother him as he holds you as close as he can. He moves the two of you as gracefully as waves across the ocean. There’s a softness in his eyes as he looks down at you, and finally leans closer. 

“Are you…?” 

Before you can speak, and ruin the moment, he presses his lips to yours. The warmth of his mouth spreads through you, lighting a fire in the pit of your stomach. His hands rest upon your waist and his feet go still as he loses himself to the kiss. Your fingers are small and gentle as they comb through his fiery hair. Finally, the two of you separate. He almost looks ashamed of his actions. He steps away, looking around the room like a wild animal in a cage searching for an escape. 

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he whispers. “Intimacy shared when one is bound is a violation.” 

“Gan…Wait,” you grab his hand but he quickly pulls away. “I don’t feel that way with you.” 

“It matters not what you feel. The truth is unchanged. If I’d not forced you here, then this moment would have never come to pass.” 

“No, please-” 

“You should leave,” he growls. “Do not look back at this place. Leave me here.” 

“Just listen to me,” you plead. “Please, I want to stay!” 

“Leave! Now,” he bellows through the halls. “Do not ever return!” 

Tears fill your eyes as the sting of rejection fills your chest. You want to open your mouth and tell him how badly you wish to stay. Throughout your time with him you’ve seen him grow from being a reclusive, grumpy king to showing the side of him that’s charming. You’ve found yourself growing more confident and content as well. Despite everything, you seem to have brought out the best in one another. Yet, he’s pushing you away now. 

“If you do not leave, I will kill you!” he snarls, the threat as empty as the wine bottle on the dining table. He’d never be able to bring himself to harm a hair on your head. 

Without another word, you run upstairs to pack your few belongings.  _____

You were surprised by the greeting you’d received when you’d returned home. Your family was delighted to see you. Your mother doted on you for days, having spent the better part of a year thinking you had abandoned the family or worse got yourself killed. You have always been a curious one, after all. After all of your family realized not only were you in good health, but you weren’t going to share what you’d been through it was business as usual. There were chores to be done on the farm, and you were eager to busy yourself with mindless work. 

You missed him deeply. It was a surprising turn, even to you. At night when you sat by the fire, you often found yourself asking your family philosophical questions they couldn’t answer all that deeply. In your mind, you could almost hear the way Ganondorf would have answered them. The way he almost seemed to purr in the back of his throat when he sat back in his chair, rubbing his beard, as he considered how to answer your best. You remembered the way his eyes would light up when you’d managed to push a topic he was particularly interested in. His eyes would light up when you would argue with him, confidently asserting your thoughts, as though he was proud of you for being so willing to stand up to him. Meanwhile, you felt suffocated by returning to your old life. Your family are kind people, surely, but they’re also simple in their desires. You missed the thrill of being close to someone who had a worldview so interestingly different from your own who could both challenge and be challenged in exchange. 

Yet, you worked. Finding solace and quiet in the familiarity of it all. It was the same thing you’d found yourself doing up until the fateful day you had been at the castle. 

Did he know how much the time you spent with him meant to you? Somehow you felt that question burning in your mind for weeks. Maybe if you had told him the truth of your feelings sooner, then he would have never sent you away. If he had known you didn’t feel imprisoned with him, would he have let you stay by his side? Would the budding feelings between you have finally bloomed? Not having the answers to these questions was enough to drive you to madness. And yet…The answers would not come. 

Months had passed when the adventurer arrived. His name was Link, and as your family served him dinner he explained his mission. He was to free Hyrule from the Demon King, Ganondorf. 

“The Demon King has been silent for many years,” your father said. “Is such a feat really worth laying down your life for?” 

“He may be silent for now, but the conquering spirit in him still remains. Hyrule will not be free until he is gone,” Link replied. 

“Will peace truly ever return?” your mother asked.

“Yes,” Link said, with an unwavering resolve. “Princess Zelda will take the throne, and restore prosperity.” 

As all of you laid down in your bedrolls that night, you had tried to push away the fear. He had made sure you no longer felt like he was your problem, therefore you felt it was in your best interest to pretend it wasn’t. Whether Ganondorf lived or died, should have been of no concern to you. 

Yet, the next morning, you rise with the sun. You quickly go check the spare room, and see that Link has already left. His blankets are neatly folded and there’s a small pile of money off to the side. 

“No, no,” you whisper to yourself. 

You run to the stables and take one of your family horses. You ride towards the castle, praying that you will make it in time to save Ganondorf. Although truth be told, you didn’t know if it was entirely possible. 

The sun is shining brightly overhead, the sky a cheerful shade of blue. In the distance, you can see a dark, gloom-filled cloud hanging over the ruins of Hyrule castle. You wonder if Link has already made it there, and is now fighting Ganondorf. There’s a strange conflict brewing in your chest because you understand why Link wants to defeat him. You just can’t stand the thought of losing Ganondorf. You keep replaying that night in your head, and you wish more than anything that you would have fought harder to stay by his side. Knowing you may never get to tell him the truth of your feelings makes your heart sink into your stomach. 

As you arrive at the castle, the clouds of gloom have begun to fade. Leaving only rainclouds in their wake that are slowly being pushed aside by the soft breeze. Does this mean it’s over? Ganondorf has been defeated? 

You leave your horse by the gate and run past the walls. You see his large form hunched over on one of the balconies. Link lunges with his sword, and suddenly Ganondorf falls. He lands with a loud crash on the ground, sending cracks through the stone from the impact. Link stands at the edge of the balcony and crawls onto the ledge. He points an arrow bathed in divine light down at Ganondorf, aiming for the finishing blow. 

“No!” You cry out as you run to Ganondorf’s rumpled form. 

“Huh?” Link gasps as he sees you throw yourself over Ganondorf. Your considerably smaller form does nothing to truly shield him, but Link knows you wouldn’t be able to withstand the blast from the light arrow. “Move!” Link calls down to you. 

“No! I won’t!” 

“Little one,” Ganondorf coughs. “It’s over…Do not…” he trails off when he sees the tears rolling down your cheeks. He can’t remember the last time anyone cried for him, or if they ever had. 

“Please, I won’t let you die,” you cry softly and bury your head against his chest. You don’t care about the blood and grime covering him. You feel his large hand on your back, his fingers curling through your hair. 

“I’m glad you came, if only so I could see you one last time.” 

“Don’t say that,” you whisper. “Don’t speak that way.” 

Link jumps down, landing with a thud on his feet, “You don’t understand. I have to finish him. Ganondorf has to die so Hyrule can be saved.” 

“Why does he have to die?” you sob as you continue clinging to him, your tears soaking into his tattered clothes. Link looks down, unsure of how to answer your question. Truth be told, he didn’t truly understand himself. Ganondorf had practically been dormant for half a century, and the monsters had slowly begun to fade away. 

“It’s fate,” Ganondorf tells you, continuing to rub your back. “Stand aside, little one. Do not weep for me anymore.” 

“Ganondorf, I can’t leave you like this,” you whisper. “I love you.” 

“Love?” he whispers as though the word is one he’s never heard. He wants to laugh, not at your feelings but at the notion of someone feeling something so gentle for him. “I…I love you as well, but it matters not now.” 

You look up, expecting to see Link standing over you. Instead, you see his retreating form. Almost seeming to sense your gaze, he looks over his shoulder. “Make sure he doesn’t give me a reason to seek him again. The two of you find somewhere to go, somewhere far away from here. I will tell everyone he’s dead.” 

“Thank you,” you whisper through gentle sobs. 

Ganondorf can hardly believe his ears. Had the hero truly decided to spare him? He couldn’t imagine a time when something like this would happen, and yet he knows there’s something he’s never had before…Rather someone. You must be the most precious thing he’s ever held in his arms. 

You embrace him again, savoring the beating of his heart and the warmth of him. Still alive, still breathing. He touched your hair, feeling the soft strands between his fingers. When you finally look up at him, there’s a sweet smile on your face despite the tears in your eyes. Then, you lean down to kiss him. His heart soars from the gentle affection. 

 It would seem fate had something different in store for him this time. 

[barefoothighlander]

spillways - panic

-simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

-warnings: mentions of ptsd, angst, bit ooc!ghost

-word count: 1.5k

-summary: after a year of working loosely alongside the 141, you are deployed on your first ground mission. trying to navigate having to work with a team and your lieutenant who seems set on getting a rise out of you.

next chapter fic masterlist

a/n: alright so I'm planning on making this a slow burn, we'll see how long that lasts, I'm trying so hard to be normal about ghost but at the same time I can't so, here you go. :)

I wonder to myself, 

could life ever be sane again?

You thrust yourself awake, alarm bells ringing in your head, something was wrong, something felt off. Faced with the darkness of your bedroom you shift your weight to glance around, nothing out of place, no noises aside from the occasional car alarm, but the buzzing, the buzzing was loud. Your head filled with the buzzing that seemed to have no end and no beginning, turning over you see the time, 3:44 am, staring back at you with that obnoxious, bright red gleam, sighing to yourself 2 hours of sleep isn’t so bad. 

Raising yourself from the bed you’re met with a cold breeze shit, the window was open, striding towards the wall to close it with a loud thud, you hated this apartment, it was old, nothing worked, and the floors creaked under any sort of movement, it didn’t feel like home. You manage the strength to walk to the kitchen and turn on a lamp, growing accustomed to residing in low light, rarely did you ever have your space fully illuminated. You pour yourself a cup of coffee and begin your day, you didn’t have much to do around the apartment considering the only thing on your agenda was to show up to base for deployment, but you still had 4 hours to kill. You occupied yourself with meaningless tasks, tidying the living space even though it had barely anything in it, you had bought the apartment 3 years ago but spent less than 9 months actually living there, it was simply a means of habitat between deployments. Truthfully you don’t know what to do with yourself if you aren’t off in some desert, or mountain range on a mission.

Finally, the clock read 7:15, you figured you had waited an adequate amount of time pacing around the apartment, so you got dressed in some casual clothes that were appropriate for any form of the tactical situation, grabbed your bag and left for the base. You made the drive often enough that it felt like your brain was on autopilot, muscle memory telling you where to turn and when. But you were right, something was off, the buzzing in your head was persistent, and your thoughts ran rampant, usually, you were halfway decent at getting your mind to quiet down, focusing it on whatever task you were assigned, but without some sort of obstacle, you found anxiety begin to bubble in your stomach. You weren’t nervous, not for a standard op, you had run through missions like this a handful of times, and you knew what to expect, what you needed to do, this was something else. Were you nervous to work directly with the 141? You had been assigned a posting with them for a little over a year now, but you never worked with them, only ever as the eye in the sky, providing aid only when deemed necessary, this time you would be on the ground with them, working with them, surviving with them.

Your thoughts occupied your time, and when you reached the base you felt like you had only been driving for 5 minutes. 7:47, enough time to sneak in, you weren’t close with the team, not like how they were with each other, they often invited you to the local pub after a successful mission but you always declined, giving them some excuse along the lines of you being too tired to stay out, most of the time they wouldn’t argue, but you could always feel a gaze staring daggers at the back of your head when you decided to not spend time with them. They meant well, you could tell, but you weren’t looking for another person to ask about your history, or why you joined the force, and you certainly weren’t looking for any sympathy, reducing yourself to a life of seclusion outside deployment.

You made your way to the briefing room, stunned to see that almost everyone was already there, everyone except one person, the only other person who found any sort of comfort in the shadows alongside you, the Ghost. Price waited another few minutes while the guys entertained themselves, recalling a few drunken stories they found amusing, Soap explaining to Gaz why he’s banned from 6 separate pubs in Manchester alone. At 7:56 you saw the door open, and the unmistakable mask breeze in, he was hard to miss, tall and broad, but quiet, always quiet. He found his place near the back of the room, settling himself to lean against a desk.

Turning your attention to Price, trying to focus on the information he was presenting, something about a cartel, and illegal weapons trading in Mexico. You couldn’t focus, not with the buzzing in your head, you tried your best, Ghost noticing the way you constantly adjusted your stance to try to hear Price better. Finally, the brief ended, and you could barely remember a thing the Captain had said aside from “meet at the heli deck 1600 hours.” Inching forward to grab a folder from the table so you could actually study what the assignment was, you felt a strong hand grab your elbow. Glancing up, Ghost was there, invading your space.

“You alright Sargeant?”

“Fine Leuitenent, why?”

“You seem agitated or something” He releases his grip on your elbow as he feels your muscles tense.

“Just tired, didn’t sleep well”

“I know the feeling, go rest, you have time” is all he says, and then he leaves.

You stop for a minute, fiddling with the edges of the folder in your hands, the buzzing is gone is all you can think, as you turn around to catch a glimpse of him, but he’s gone. 

For the first time today, your thoughts are clear, no alarm bells, no buzzing, there’s clarity, and you don’t know why. You chalk it up to the difference in humidity, or atmosphere around the base. But even in the clarity, you can’t sleep, you tried, laying down on your cot for nearly an hour, trying to will your body to rest, but it was useless, it’s hard to rest when you’re always in survival mode. Instead, you decide to take your efforts to the gym on base, choosing to put your thoughts to some use and beat the hell out of a punching bag.

Your knuckles are sore, your legs are cramping up, and you can begin to taste iron in your mouth, but none of these stop you. You continue your assault on the oversized bag of sand, forcing every ounce of energy into your punches and kicks.

“Thought I told you to rest” You didn’t hear him come in, but now, standing directly behind you, he’s hard to miss.

You keep facing away from him, centring the bag in front of you. “Couldn’t, thought my time was better spent here”

“You defied a superior's orders then?”

“A suggestion and an order are different Leuitenent”

“You always talk back? Tsk, that’s bad manners love” he asks, raising his arm to settle the bag in front of you, almost commanding your attention.

You turn to face him, finding his body much closer than you thought, you crane your neck to look into his eyes, they’re shrouded in black paint, his face concealed by the skull. 

“You don’t intimidate me, sir”

“Why not, every other bloke on this base is terrified of me,” he says leaning down a little, enough so that you can feel the warmth of his breath over your cheek.

You press your lips to his covered ear, making sure he hears you loud and clear.

“I see right through the mask,” you say, as you pull yourself back to stare into his dark eyes, and for a moment, you swear you see the telltale signs of a smile from the crinkles that form beside his eyes.

“I’ll see you on deck Sargeant” is all he says, striding away from you and down the hallway.

You stand there, breathless, you’ve never spoken to anyone that way, let alone a superior officer, but you won’t let him scare you, at the end of the day he’s just another man, made of flesh and bone, he bleeds the same colour as the rest of them.

You return to your shacks to rinse off whatever sweat you worked up. Stepping out and checking the time, 3:30, shit, how long was I in the shower for. Quickly gathering your necessary equipment for travel you make your way to the deck, only to be greeted by the loud whirring of helicopter blades, and the booming laughter of one Soap Mactavish.

“Ye ready for some fun lass?” Soap asks placing a firm hand on your shoulder.

Before you get the chance to respond Ghost once again appears out of nowhere.

“No time to waste, get packed in”

Soap glances at you but your eyes are set firm on the Leuitenent, while little feelings of anger begin to form in your chest. Removing his hand from your shoulder, Soap steps into the heli and seats himself next to some of the other guys. You situate yourself near the back of the carrier, far enough that no one would attempt to make conversation with you. To your dismay, Ghost plants himself directly next to you, close enough that your knees are forced to touch. You’re willing him to move, and he doesn’t spare a glance in your direction. 

This is gonna be a long ride.

[bundoesnotcompete]

Reader is isekai'd into star rail but instead of your body its otto apocolypse's. Im not real impressed with this one personally but its nearly 4k words so here you go.

Violence ahead. Also errors and lore inaccuracies to be expected. Maybe ooc? No main pairings

Waking up to somewhere other than your bed is bound to give anyone a heart attack. Waking up on another planet is enough to instantly kill anyone from shock. Yet, here you were, gaping like an idiot in front of a mirror.

Not only were you on some no name planet, but your looks had changed. You were a spitting image of one Otto Apocalypse, down to the purple outfit you were wearing. If you put your hair fully down you looked like Loucha, but you pushed that to the back of your mind quickly.

You pinched yourself again. You didn't wake up. You put your hands on the edges of the sink and took a deep breath. The sound you released was closer to a quietly dying animal.

"What the hell is my life?" You whispered to yourself.

What you were supposed to do? You had nothing! You had no money, no clue to what your doing, no housing! You were homeless! The only comfort you had was the fact that you were cute and not programmed to drop loot.

You startled as something touched your ankle. Frantically looking down, you saw a wisp of faint purple colored smoke moving towards you. The tendrils playfully wrapped and played around your feet. The tendrils seemed to whisper faintly. You kicked them away and they disappeared in faint smoke.

Sighing, you left the public bathroom you were in. The sun was beginning to set and you were not tired. You took a left and began to wander. The streets were rather empty as you wondered. The signs were in a language you couldn't read so you couldn't keep track of where you were going.

You were ashamed to admit it, but you had dumpster dived in order to find anything that may be of use to you. You had found something that you assumed was money and a really cool rock. The sun continued to set far slower than you were used to as you continued to wander and dig in the trash like some sort of deranged raccoon.

You were approaching what looked to be a train station by the time the sun had fully set. The interior was beautiful and well kept. The floors were shiny enough to show your relfection.

There was an older woman standing at the desk who was talking to what you assumed was her coworker. She turned to you and smiled as you approached the desk. You looked to the sign above her and cried internally. How were you suppksed to get anywhere or know you were going if you couldn't read?!

"Hello! Where will you be heading today?" She greeted you kindly. Your cheeks turned red with shame as you tried to figure out what to say. The station was deserted at this time of night so at least it would be just her and her coworker to see you suffer. The wisps were returning around your feet.

You set everything you found in the dumpsters on the desk and took a shakey breath. You ignored her confused and stunned face.

"I cannot read." You looked away from her, trying to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks. "Where would i be able to go with this?"

She gave you a look of pity and she examined what was in front of her. She hummed.

"This isn't enough to get you anywhere dear." You deflated. "But, I will cover the rest of the cost to send you to the capital since you almost have enough for that. Do you need someone to get you onto to the train?"

"Ah, I think I may have it from here. Thank you ma'am. Is it the next train that is going to the capital?"

"Yes," She slid the really cool rock back to you as she put change in the drawer behind the desk. "Do take care of yourself dear. Things will get better. Have a seat, the train will be here in an hour."

The next hour you napped on the bench of the station. The station was rather cold as the ngiht went on. The loud blaring of the train's horn woke you and you boarded the train when it stopped. You were greeted by a man and he took you to a table to be sat. The rock sat heavily in your pocket.

"Here is your seat. Madame Ru told us about your situation." Heat flushed back to your cheeks in embarrassment as the man spoke. What situation?! Did you really look that bad when you got your tickets?! "Don't worry, we will take care of you until we reach the capital. Everything is already paid for so do not be afraid to order when meal time comes."

You sat in the seat in front of the table the man led to you to.

"We will be parting…." The intercom came over loudly as the man began to speak again.

"Would you like some tea or water?" You nodded, looking out the window. The train was really nice for the cheapest option.

"We are departing…." The attendant nodded and left as you zoned out. You lost count of time as you stared emptily out the window. The train began to move. A steaming cup WA set in front of you.

"Here you go, kid. I got tea for you." You gave thanks as you took the mug. "The next meal will be after our next stop in two hours. If you need anything I will be in the front of the cart. Do not hesitate to ask." The man's tone was sympathetic. You felt like you were taking advantage of the people around you.

The attendant walked off. The cart around you was empty. You stared at Otto's reflection in the tea. The empty blankness you were feeling was festering into something worse. Otto was nice to look at, but you wished you were back into your body.

The churning in your stomach got worse as you thoughts turned south. You stood and headed for the front of the cart to find the bathroom. When you asked the attendant he pointed you in it's direction.

You threw everything you had in you up as you sobbed quietly. It was too much. The intense ringing in your ears was all you could focus on and the other noises outside the restroom made everything worse. The wisps were back and they gently rubbed your ankles and then your back as you sat on the floor. Though their smokey form wasn't much use, the kind touches gently calmed you.

The roaring waves of anxiety turned to a mostly calm ocean. You didn't kick away the wisps as you stood up and cleaned your face off. The pure anxiety faded back into the empty numbness of before. Deciding you looked decent enough, you left the restroom and headed back to your seat. You ignored the look the attendant gave you.

Taking a few more sips of your tea, you drowsily gazed out the window. A quick nap was in order, you decided.

Jerking awake from your nap was unpleasent. It was almost as bad as finding out that you were still here in this horrible dream. The hustle and bussle of the people boarding the train woke you up. The tea in front of you having gone cold.

"It is unlucky that we didn't catch that…."

"Did you hear what happened…."

"I heard that the Astral Express…."

You could only catch tailends of conversations as people boarded. You turned your attention to the windows again as you looked out towards the woods the train had stopped in. Well, the woods by the station at least. The chime of the intercom was ignored in favor of looking down at the cool rock you had found earlier.

It had soft shimmering pinks and purples for the colors. It was mostly smooth and round, and it only had a few raised edges. It looked to be a natural rock. You could see people be seated next you out off the corner of your eye.

You turned back to the window and absentmindedly ran your fingers over the stone. The train was beginning to move again.

It wasn't long until a woman had come around and started setting what looked to be menus on the tables. You were getting hungry, hopefully the menu had pictures.

The menu did not have pictures. You wanted to cry. A small detail was about to break what little spirit you had left in you. What kind of menu didn't have a single picture?! The shit cake that was your day was getting worse. It was like you couldn't get a single win in.

"Oh wow, I'm so glad that this is paid for! Look at all these good options!" The girl in the seat next to you marveled at the menu. Yes, just rub salt into that wound why don't you? It seems you were going to have to wait for the attendent to come back so he or she could read to you.

"I've heard that this planet is known for its Lobster-Rat. If i get it will you get something else? Then we can try two things!" Another teen's voice came from the table next to you.

"What are you going Mr.Yang?" Dread filled you stomach. No, please don't let them be who you think they are. You knew those voices sounded too familiar. You couldn't comprehend what was said next, to busy fighting down your nervousness. If this was Honkai: Star Rail, then unless you managed to get lucky, you were toast. It would be you luck that you'd get into trouble. The menu in your hands was trembling. The attendant woman from earlier came to get their orders.

She turned to you and you knew you were going to have to face the crew next to you.

"Oh! I see your tea has gone cold. I will get amother one for you. What will you be having to eat." She asked. You couldn't even bring yourself to be shameful of your lack of reading skills. You had bigger concerns like not crying or getting angry at this whole mess.

"I cannot read." You managed to get out, your voice wavering on the verge of tears. "Would you mind reading it?" The attendant didn't comment and read the menu to you. In the end, you decided to go with the spiderfish soup. Hopefully, it didn't kill you.

As the attendant left you managed to discover who it was sitting at the booth across from you. March 7th, Stelle, and Welt Yang sat in the booth. You died internally as you saw them. It was just your luck that you got isekai'ed into the Honkai Universe. You looked towards your cold tea.

"Are you alright? You look really pale." March's voice fluttered into your ears. You needed sleep. Sleep and a warm meal. Even if it did not solve your problem it would make you feel so much better.

"I've been better. Its been a rather rough day." You responded truthfully. "Don't worry about me, though. How are you?" The conversation soon turned into small talk. It was odd how just simply talking to someone was making you feel better. The small talk continued for awhile even as the food was brought out.

"May I ask what brings you here?" You asked as you finished your meal.

"Just some sightseeing." Welt said, stacking his and March's empty plated and bowls into a pile. You had a feeling that was mostly a lie but decided to not pry. You didn't want to make the man more uneasy then he already is. You were sure seeing a literal spitting image of Otto Apocalypse had to be off putting. Especially since you two had differing personalities. Is that how he felt when seeing Loucha?

"What about you? Do you live here?" March said excitedly. Stelle watched you curiously from where she was piling food into her mouth. To be honest or not to be honest, that is the question. Eh, you had nothing to lose by being mostly honest.

"I don't live here, no. I just kinda ended up here. I've been struggling to get off planet. It is hard when you cannot read, yknow?"

"You can't read?" Welt questioned.

"Not this language. My home planet's language is found nowhere else." You thought about it, did Earth even exist in this universe? "Its gone now, so it doesn't matter."

"Oh." A heavy silence set between you and the table.

"These days i am just hoping to see the glaxay and maybe find a home." Preferably away from all the fighting. Far, far away from the fighting.

The wispy energy that was happily curling at your feet seemed frantic now. They seemed to be unsettled by something. By what, you wondered. Now that you noticed them you had a sinking feeling.

The train seemed to hit something but it never went off rails or stopped. The bump only knocking stuff around and startling the passangers. The dread that was pooling in your stomach got worse. Why was this your life? Couldn't you go a single day without something bad happening?

"What was that?" Stelle had just finished her meal when she asked.

"I hope it's nothing bad. I really hope its just some minor bum-" You didn't get to finish your sentence and the train screeched too a stop and caused everything to slide.

There were footsteps on the roof. The crew next to you seemed to prepare for something to happen. The wisps at your feet whispered incoherently, but seemed aggitated. You had no weapons to fight, but at least you had the comfort of your wisp buddies being with you. Maybe the really cool rock could defend you?

The footsteps stopped above the hatcb above your cart. It sat on the otherside of the roof away from your side. It slammed into the floor as someone kicked it in and entered the cart. Multiple heavily armed people entered through the newly made hole and seemed to search for something. They scattered out into the cart and looked both in luggage and at people. They took only credits but left any other valuable things alone.

Two approached your end if the cart. The crew next to you seemed ready to fight the closer the two beings got. The wisps at your feet grew angrier. The whispering was growing more audible and clear. They were itching for a fight. You didn't want to fight.

Something told you that whatever gods were here were laughing at you. Aha especially. You just knew that you were about to be caught up in something you wanted no part of.

You were right, the two paid no attention to the crew next to you when they turned to you. The wisps were calling for blood and danced aggressively around both your and the two in front of you feet. You didn't want to fight or kill. The thought of killing didn't bother you like it would've normally but you still knew that you should always be a last resort. Thst little unsettling thought was put to the back of your mind as one of them spoke.

"Grab them."

Ah hell no you were not about to be kidnapped. The last resort quickly became first resort as you launched yourself at the speaker. A fight was quick to break out. You slammed the speaker into the crew's table and barely dodged the bigger ones hands. The one now dubbed Spaker was quick to recover and try to fight you. Even though they had weapons they seemed more keen on fist fighting you. Were you that valuable?

The fight attracted the attention of the other boarder that was standing in the front. You paid no attention to them as you fought the other two. The back of the gun they had was quick to connect to the back of your skull after speaker pushed you towards them. The crew took this as their cue to jump in the fight while the boarders were distracted with you.

The wisps took great offense to your downing. They zipped by your line of sight as you hit the ground from the blow on your head. While you didn't see much of what was going on, you knew the crew was fighting. You would help them if you weren't so disoriented. As you attempted to sit up, someone grabbed you hair and pulled you up into a sort off kneeling position. You hit then as much as you could.

The whispering was worse.

"Use us and destroy him. We crave violence towards the enemy. Use us. We will help." The wisps were sorrounding the man pulling you away from the fight. He remained unaware is the extreme danger he was in. "Kill him. Its us or him."

The pain in your head was worsening as he got closer to the hatch. Panic was filling your mind. How were the wisps going to help.

"Let us take care of him for you. Please let us do it for you." Tears were filling your eyes a fear took hold. "Just imagine your asleep in a nice pool. We will take care of the rest." You closed your eyes and tried to do as they said. It was difficult among the pain but whatever you had conjured in your mind was enough to let them take control.

It was easy let yourself float away from the pain and emotion after that. It was easy to remain unaware as you floated in the great wavey nothingness. The purple waves whispered around you. It wanted you to help someone, but who?

"Do you think-" Stelle's voice seemed to echo in this place and it woke you slightly from your drifting.

"Look! Their waking-" You could feel yourself floating back to the top of the water. Feeling yourself regain movement. In a split second you felt everything again, pain included. Groaning, you cracked open your eyes. Why did you feel sticky?

You touched your face and ask that came off was red. Oh dear.

"It is okay. Your safe now." Welt's face came into view as he spoke. You looked around. The entire floor seemed to be covered in the red stickiness. You seemed too be in the place you last remembered being. "You took a heavy blow. Are you able to stand by yourself?" You wanted to say something, but your body wouldn't allow it. You could see the wisps come back into view.

"Sorry. Sorry." They seemed to whisper over and over. What were they sorry for?

"Mr. Yang they don't look so good." March said, looking pale. Why did she look scared? You shifted onto your side and sat up. Whatever this red paste was it was sticky and strong smelling. Your mind wanted to register that it was blood but the exhaustion from possesion caused it to struggle. It would file it for later then.

You attempted to stand but was to wobbily to do so on your own. Welt grabbed your arm and helped you stand.

"S'rry." You managed to mumble out.

"We need to get you out of here. March, you know where they are taking others right?" You didn't see the girl mood as Welt spoke. "We will go there with them."

The next hours blurred together and when they finally let you rest you were out like a light.

"Ask them. We can keep an eye on them in case it happens again…."

"I know it isn't easy, but thank you for giving them a chance…."

You cracked your eyes open to see a hospital ceiling.

"Wakey Wakey!" March's voice was soft as she whispered excitedly. Her beaming smile was blinding. What had happened?

"I got some water over here." Stelle was on your other side. You nodded and March helped you sit up. You took some sips of it and while it felt like liquid glass, it was also somehow soothing.

"What happened?" You asked.

"You don't remember?" Stelle replied. You shook you head.

"I remember being dragged away after the fight, but nothing after that." A heavy silence filled the room.

"Oh, not much happened after that. We fought them off and then brought you here." Something in Stelle voice was off. Was she lying? Whatever, it didn't matter now. The door to your room opened to reveal a rather tired looking Welt.

"Look! They are awake and hopefully for alot longer this time." March said, flopping back down into the chair next to you. "They don't anything though."

Welt adjusted his glasses. He stood in front of your bed with clothes in his hands.

"Im glad to see you awake. Your old clothes were ruined so the nurses are allowing you to have some." He set the clothes down at you feet. They were neatly folded and looked like hospital scrubs. "Is it true that you do not remember anything?" What was this an interrogation. Just what did those wisps do?

"I remember the fight and being dragged away, but everything is," you paused trying to find the right words, "muddy." That wasn't quite what you were going for but it worked. "Thank you for helping me back there. I don't know why they wanted me so bad." Welt seemed to sigh.

"Your welcome. I wanted to ask a question. You said that you did not have a home, correct."

"That's right."

"Would you like to join the Astral Express?"

Your eyes widened at the question. You knew these people for just a few hours and they are asking you to join them. You should say no, but March was giving you puppy eyes.

"I wouldn't want to impose." You responded.

"It is not an issue. You do not need to join us if you are not comfortable. You've only known us for a few hours."

You sat there for a moment, dazed. Everything was happening so fast, but you were now obviously in danger. If someone wanted you then as much as you don't want to admit it being on the road was the safer place to be.

"If it is not a burden, then i would be willing to join. I don't know what i can do to help you all but i can do my best."

Thus, after you were released from the hospital, you set off as a new member of the Astral Express.

Dan Heng was nice in his own private way. He remained wary of you, though.

Welt seemed to keep anxious eye on you. You didn't blame him, you did look like someone that brought him unpleasant memories. He seemed to warm up to you as he got to know you more. Especially once he helped Himeko teach you to read.

Stelle and March seemed to be conjoined at the hip at times. Stelle was a human raccoon, but she showed empathy and was happy to happy to talk to you. March gladly helped you expand your wardrobe. Her sunny and bubbly personality made her easy to talk to and get along with.

Himeko treated you kindly and was beginning to teach you how to properly read in the standard script. She was like a mother in some ways and an aunt in others. She helped March choose clothes for you. PomPom was happy to have another aboard the train and treated you nicely.

Things were looking up for now. Everyone seemed to adjust to you being in the train. Though it took some getting used to your new looks, you come to accept them.

All was well for now. All until a man named Loucha met you.

[roseyjean]

Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High? (Soukoku Angst)

Warnings: Angst angst angst, I slapped this together before I lost motivation, homosexuals in denial of their homosexuality, skk, Dazai (man's a warning in himself istg), alcohol intake, third person but with Chuuya's thoughts so sort of first person, slightly ooc because I suck at writing fully in character, no spellcheck because I fix my writing mistakes the first time 😎, swearing,

AN: @nugget-child is the demon who requested this- my first ever request RAAAAAAH

It's short er then chuuya but I like it

I listened to a creepypasta Playlist I made while writing this

It was three am when Chuuya's phone started ringing.

He didn't have to roll over to know who was calling him. Only one person ever called him at three in the morning, when anybody sane should be asleep. It happened every week, sometimes twice a week. Sometimes more.

Sometimes he wondered why he continued to pick up the phone.

It did him no good.

It only made it all hurt more.

Still, he stretched his arm over and picked up the phone, sliding the answer call button up and pressing the phone to his ear. Immediately was the annoying voice of the person he loved hated the most.

"𝘊𝘩𝘶𝘶𝘶𝘶𝘶𝘶𝘺𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘢~" Dazai slurred. "𝘕𝘦𝘦𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵' 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘳𝘳~~"

Chuuya wanted to say no. Dazai was the enemy now, a traitor of the Port Mafia. He should just ignore him, let him deal with the consequences of his actions alone.

But he never could make himself say no.

"I'll be right over."

He hung up the phone and dressed, grabbing his motorcycle keys and his wallet and setting off. The streets of Yokohama were mostly deserted at this time, and he made it to Dazai's apartment quickly, parking his red motorcycle in the parking lot and killing the engine.

He paused for a moment, not getting off his bike. Why did he do this? Dazai could've called any of the people he worked with. So why did he have to call Chuuya, his old partner? They hated each other. They always had, ever since Chuuya first joined. He'd never wanted to like Dazai. He was a stupid, selfish, suicidal prick.

Yet he still got off his bike and tromped up the steps to the apartment and knocked on the door. "Mackerel. Let me in."

Silence. No shuffling, no swearing, nothing. With a frustrated sigh, Chuuya tried the doorknob. The door swung open easily.

The apartment was a mess. Clothes, alcohol bottles, and loose bandages were strewn about. This was how it looked every time. Sometimes he wondered if Dazai knew the meaning of the word 'picking up after yourself'.

Speak of the devil, there was the shithead himself, laying slumped on the battered couch, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in one hand and his phone in the other. As soon as the door opened, his eyes focused on Chuuya.

"𝘊𝘩𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘪~" He slurred, raising his arms. Bandages trailed from his limbs, unraveling, and patches of pale skin, covered in silvery scars, showed. "𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘵.... 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘬𝘬𝘬, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴, 𝘺𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘩~?"

Chuuya hated Dazai. He really did.

He cleaned up the clothes, and the bandages, and the alcohol bottles. He wrestled the bottle of whiskey from Dazai's hand and undid all the bandages from his body- arms, legs, torso, neck- and forced him to put some pajamas on. And he waited for him to fall asleep before he left, locking the door behind him with the key he kept on his keychain.

But he always came back.

[st6rly]

gods no longer.

SYNOPSIS: love, as in the feeling, is fate. love, as in the choice, is conscious (or in other words, 4 times where zhongli gets close enough to the truth of the matter and the 1 time he does) | word count: 1.8k

characters: god!office worker!zhongli x deity!barista!gn!reader

categories: apocalypse au, modern au, angst, hurt / comfort, fluff, 4+1 fic

warnings: mentions of typical apocalypse stuff ( blood, injury, death, etc.), mentions of food & drinks, ooc zhongli sorry TwT

notes: i went a little too silly and related falling in love to the cycle and formation of a rock. ok the au sounds confusing but i promise it makes sense- also i ended up using parallels as a writing device way too much in this my bad :’D

surprise surprise @lychniis / @ainescribe !! im your astro twerk secret santa :DD im sorry if this fic is messy in structure and probably doesn’t make sense in the long run but i hope you enjoy some parts of it at least TwT happy holidays !!

I. WEATHERING & EROSION.

The world was crumbling to its knees and yet, all Zhongli could think about was how his morning tea was bitter. 

Gravel crunched under his foot, topsoil turned over to reveal the small bits of life that had yet to fall through the cracks. The pavement had split, rumbles having left long and jagged fractures in the ground and buildings tilted. Sun bore down on skin battered with small cuts and contusions, a layer of dirt covering both his forearms and the formerly white dress shirt he wore. His shoes scuffed along the deserted road, steps deliberately languid. He screamed, thrashed around in his mind, prayed that others had survived. In the back corners of his mind, he hoped none did. 

Selfish; maybe that’s all he’d ever be to the people. Gold ran down his arm, trickled from the punctures left from stone and debris. The ichor in his veins served as a shackle of what he could not have and Zhongli stared down at it in disdain, fist clenched. For the better, he assured, pulled free a steel pipe from the framing of a store, and continued on. Gods couldn’t die by a knife to the throat. They could if forgotten. 

Zhongli knew he tore a seam in the dress shirt he wore when range of motion wasn’t such a struggle, able to lunge himself up over fallen street lamps and what once used to be apartments with ease. There was no destination and he was sure that if he had one, it wouldn’t be standing. 

He walked because if he didn’t, then nobody else would. Zhongli does not die easily; not in this way at least.

II. TRANSPORTATION.

The world was at an end; you wished it had come sooner or not at all. 

You pulled yourself from beneath the rumble and broken frames of the shop you had so dearly loved, clawed a hand through sharp edges and chipped paint, to come face to face with the remains of flattened machines and shattered glass panes. The first thing you noticed was the front entrance that withstood the initial fracture. The next was the blood and dusty limbs that laid on the floor. 

The grief was worn like sticky sunscreen on a beach day, a protective and mocking cover over your skin as you ran, scuffed sneakers thundering along ridges and bumps in the uneven lane. In hindsight, it was stupid of you to exert so much force when there wasn’t a place you could run to; you just needed out, to scrub the dirt and grime and blots of red and gold until the only thing that was leftover was whatever shred of dignity you still kept. Flee and leave it all behind, there was nothing for you anyways.

Until him.

“It’s you,” the man stated, finger poised accusingly, “you gave me the wrong order of tea.” 

You blinked back owlishly, lost for words as he pointed at you with a scowl. Hesitation in your actions, you slowly lowered the plank of wood with one nail stuck through it in your hands and squinted your eyes. The sleeves of his shirt were ripped and rolled to his biceps, hair tied back loosely, and posture high on alert as he clutched onto a metal rod with a death grip. 

“And you are…” you trailed off, voice cracked and lips dried as your throat protested the strain of letting the words out. It had been months since the dirt beneath your feet started to split; weeks since you’d seen another share the means of language. 

“An unsatisfied customer.” The reply was blunt and left no room for argument. It was not a final answer. 

If he hadn’t just been locked in a stare down with you mere minutes ago or held himself in such a manner, you would’ve snorted and laughed it off. 

“Listen, I really don’t think now is a good time to be talking about tea.” you groaned, a heavy sigh falling from your lips. “It’s not like I can fix it either.” 

The stranger responded with silence. His eyes darted quickly over your figure and you shifted your weight from foot to foot.  

“Travel with me.” 

You blinked once, twice, stared at him until your eyes burned and forced you to close them again. Words died out on the tip of your tongue, the embers and syllables smothered out in the muddled mess of your own thoughts.

“What?” you croaked out. He looked back as if it were common sense. 

“You’re one of them.” It was only after those words that you realized he had fixed his gaze to your arm. A shaky breath left your lips, the sting of the cut underneath a flimsy wrapping of torn cloth grounding. You could feel it now, the way the liquid gleamed when caught under the light, its brilliance shown as it started to trickle down your skin again. 

One of them. 

“There’s nothing left here,” he muttered, the ghost of a smile on his lips. Your jaw went tight and nails dug into the soft flesh of your palms. 

“You think I don’t know that?” The words were bitter as they left your throat. “Do you think I’m that detached?” 

He ignored you. 

“Come with me,” he took a step closer and held out a hand. “You won’t be forgotten.” 

It was neither warm or inviting, but enticing nonetheless. He knows, you calmed yourself, he knows he can’t kill me. 

“If not for that, then for the company?” 

Blindly, stupidly, you took it.

III. DEPOSITION.

Tin cans rattled softly, the noise muffled by the worn fabric of what you called a backpack, as you rummaged through food and water supplies. The box you pulled out was supposed to be white, the plastic smooth and red cross marked in the centre bright and bold. Somewhere underneath the dirt, it still was. 

He’s all too familiar with the furrow of a brow and the soft brush of fingers against his shoulder. He suppressed a shiver when your breath tickled his neck, held in a sigh when you blew gently on the cut after cleaning. With careful movements, you wound the bandage around his arm, the occasional ghost of your skin against his startling. Zhongli found it wasn’t unwelcome. 

It was you who broke the silence. 

“You aren’t who you say you are,” you stated, words hushed and still rough around the edges. He locked eyes with yours, searched them only to come up empty; not a single bit of malice or spite was present in the look you gave him. That was either a good thing, or an equally bad one. The ground was stained with tinges of gold, bits that clumped up dirt, left shimmer in its wake. The small pads of cotton used to wipe the bleeding were stained vibrant yellow. 

He barked out a laugh; the sound was foreign to his ears. 

“You’re one of them. One like me,” you whispered when his voice died down. 

“And we’re different in every way,” he said, hand clutched to his ribcage at the cramp that began to form. “Why do you insist on fighting so hard?” 

“What?” 

“We’ve lost what makes us like this. Why do you continue to try?” 

“We were, I was, never a proper god to start with,” you spoke carefully, considerate. “It was never up to me what went on.” 

“In the blink of an eye,” Zhongli matched your tone, “you could wish this all better.” 

“Just as you could make it all the worse.” You hummed and leaned your head back, eyes averted away from him. “I guess I just found something worth trying for.”

Zhongli’s heart pounded.

IV. METAMORPHISM.

“Grab my hand!” 

The Earth groaned and rumbled, opened its mouth, swallowed up buildings and wires without much thought. You braced yourself against the broken chain fence, glancing up at where Zhongli stood up on the roof opposite from you, having made it before the cracks had begun again and the distance grew. 

Grave desperation set his nerves alight, every fibre alert, and arm reached out to where the joint could’ve pulled loose had he gone farther. His face pulled into a cruel grimace as the concrete ledge of the other building dug into his stomach below the ribs and something in him burned, shouted and throbbed beneath layers of flesh and bones, in an intelligible mess of tightness and ache. 

“Please, Y/n!” he shouted. Begged. He’d bare his throat to you in a heartbeat if it meant you believed in this, believed in him.  

You jumped. His heart dropped to his stomach, legs weak, when your hand grasped his wrist and met his eyes. Feet dug into the cracks of the barrier, he pulled you to him, the quiet gasp of relief he let out once you touched down on solid ground lost to the wind. 

God can’t die. Gods cannot die, he repeated to himself, a mantra of painful reassurance. Zhongli’s hands melded with the fabric of your shirt, cloth twisted in a similar way that could only mock the feeling in his chest. 

You tugged on his hand, laced your fingers slowly with his before the rumbles started again. Down the both of ran, across unsteady roofs and rusted fire escapes, until the sky turned dark and the shakes stopped, 

Adrenaline, nerves, the worry he’d lose you again, whatever it was, he fell for it. It was winter when he first kissed you under the moonless sky; it felt more like early spring with the warmth that still laid heavy in the air and the dry crust of dirt that coated everything. 

“You should have just let me,” you had mumbled against his lips the same night. 

“I made a promise and I intend to keep it,” he replied back, the words sitting just right as he spoke. “I wish it were more. You deserve more.”

“This,” you hummed, a hand cupping his cheek, “is more than enough.”

V. ROCK MELTING.

It was summer when the ground beneath his feet first began to give out and the streets ran rampant with silence; it’s summer again when he found a new life with you.  

This was all laughable, really. Hands intertwined, the sun that peaked over the horizon and set alight to the dust in the air, the domestic nature, it all was a joke. You’d, turned and brushed stray hairs from his face with light touch and features set into a grim, yet foolishly hopeful, face. 

He gazed at you like you could craft the universe anew, match his destruction blow for blow and reverse everything. In some sense, you could. Not this one though. 

“You could find them again, you know,” you mumbled, not so he couldn’t hear but it felt right. “What would you do if you did?”

Zhongli paused, licked his lips as he stared out into the open expanse of the wasteland. 

“My love is a choice,” he smiled as he spoke, a delicate thing, “and that choice is you.” 

“Took you long enough,” you chuckled with a soft nudge to his shoulder. 

“Yeah,” Zhongli released a long sigh, squeezed your hand and traced an outline around the joints of your thumb, before letting out a small ghost of a chuckle when you squeezed back. How low he had fallen, mad at something as simple as the grime that separated the true touch of your palm in his. “It did.” 

[yourplayersaidwhat]

Tears of Dissection

Background: 3.5 homebrew. We are in a desert world. I, (Pixie Rogue) am being interrogated for murder (of which I didn't commit) and after mostly evading most of the questions under Zone of Truth, the very powerful NPC wizard has turned away and started casting a 10 minute spell on red stained table. DM: Rogue, roll Knowledge Arcana to see if you know what is going on. I roll my third Nat 1 of the game: Five. DM: Oh, you are absolutely sure he is going to dissect you or something. Sorcerer, you can tell this is a wine stain. Sorcerer: I rustle my wings and try to reassure Rogue. DM: When you rustle your wings, the Divination Wizard steps up to you and asks if he can compare your wings and the pixie's wings to update his book. (That has an ancient diagram of a pixie.) Me: I hear this, and that combined with the red stained table, Rogue immediately wails, and I mean wails, "I don't wanna be dissected!" and starts sobbing. Grasshopper-like Barb OOC: DM, can I roll Will? I wanna try something. DM: Sure. Barb: Three. I failed. Did you guys know there's a real butterfly that lands on the faces of turtles and drinks their tears? Well,  I'm going to see Rogue's tears and think "Oh, we can't waste the water." I'm going to approach Rogue and begin to sip her tears.

Barb proceeds to make slluuuuuurping sounds to the laughter and disgust of the rest of the party.

[fandxmslxt69]

Daisy (modern, small town AU)

mechanic!Frank castle x f!sunshine!reader

Warnings: Frank's an asshole lmao. UM me making up shit as I go about cars (i dont know enough abt them okay). Um, Frank works at an automobile shop/garage (he owns it more like but whatever). WRITTEN IN LIKE 3 HOURS AND AN IDEA THAT WAS BIRTHED THIS MORNING. Some swearing, lazy descriptions, probably HORRIBLE structure but idc idc idc.

Synopsis: You just moved to a small town, and just your luck, your car breaks down after a few errand runs. You have no choice but to go to the town's official Mr. Grumpy (Frank) to ask for help.

Word count: 1.8k (WHOOPS)

A/N: BAHAHAH SO THIS WAS BORN LIKE THIS MORNING/LAST NIGHT and i could NOT get the idea out of my head so I had to do SOMETHING about it. Yeah, there'll probably be more to this but FIRST, i have to go study after putting it off to finish this. SORRY IT MIGHT BE SOOO FUCKING OOC AND CRINGE BUT I WAS TOO LAZY TO WRITE IT PROPERLY! this is kind of just a set up/build up bit it gets BETTER promise promise anyway was this just me reading like 10 small town romances and going "all of them, but with Frank?" yeah basically, you're welcome.

Tags: YEAH um @soft-girl-musings its kinda your fault for encouraging me (im kidding ily) and um @runa-falls cuuuz yknow you <3 and Frank <3

Imagine a modern AU in a small little town where Frank owns the only garage there. It’s just a small happy town with a little community that grew up with each other- everyone knows Frank as Mr Grumpy- he’s always got that frown and those eyebrows knitted together in annoyance. 

Imagine you’re new in town and you feel just a bit out of place in this tightly knitted community. You try to make some friends, but it’s hard fitting into already tight social circles. 

Imagine your car breaking down on your way home from a grocery run. The front of smoking and its making weird jumbling and rumbling noises. You leave the car quickly, not wanting to be inside of it in case something goes wrong. You’re nowhere near your house, and the cute sandals you’re wearing are in no shape to walk the rest of the way. You really don’t want to barge into a random shop and ask for help. But you notice, a little far from the rest of the shops in town, a little store with an ugly neon sign that said GARAGE in big, flickering red letters. You sigh heavily, making sure to grab your keys from the car, along with your purse and phone, lock it, and start walking towards the shop. 

Imagine walking into the little automobile shop to find it pretty much deserted. The walls were lined with different tires, tools and various car parts lined the little room with a small area left unlittered for the cash register. And yet, there was no one to man the station. You walk around, feeling hopeless, until you hear voices coming from behind the door at the back of the room. 

Imagine walking through the door hesitantly into a big garage, and you’re greeted with the sight of a gorgeous shirtless man in loose jeans stained in grease stains. He’s bent over a car and wiping the windshield while a radio beside him blasts some country tunes. You stood in the doorway, mouth hanging slightly open at the sight. Who could blame you? His hair looked so soft, and from what you could see, his face was probably just godly. He looked heavenly,and he clearly didn’t hear you come in from how loud the music was. You clear your throat lightly, clutching the strap of your purse tightly. “Um, excuse me-” you say as quietly as you can, not entirely sure you want to draw his attention. Yet somehow he still hears you. His eyes snap up to meet yours and the look of peace on his face immediately transforms into a look of permanent annoyance. 

Shit. He does have a pretty face. A sculpted jawline and a little stubble lined his jaw. Pretty eyes too. 

Imagine the way his eyes would roam over you. Your hair held back in a little ponytail, your short blue sundress with daisies that barely just reaches your thighs. The way his pretty lips would set in a hard line and his jaw clenches, and while his eyes take in your pretty look, the way that dress rides up your thigh whenever you take a step, you can see his jaw tick and the frown lines forming. 

“Yes?” He said slowly, one eyebrow raised. 

“Um,” You shuffled a bit, carefully stepping into the garage, but making sure to keep a distance from him and the car. “Um, my uh, my car broke down, and I kind of need help,” 

He wipes his hands on the towel tucked into the pocket of his jeans, walking around the car to stand in front of you. Well, more like tower over you. He was, to put it simply, enormous. At least 6 foot something with broad shoulders and a deliciously sculptured and defined chest. His muscles weren’t the pretty boy skinny things you’d see at the gym- his biceps looked big enough to crush a man’s skull, and his chest looked comfy enough to use as a pillow. 

He clears his throat, and you realise you missed a question. You look up (practically STRAINING your neck) to meet his eyes. He definitely looks frustrated. Maybe he's annoyed that he has to repeat himself. 

Imagine how mean he’d be about it- he doesn’t mean to be rude, or to come off as an asshole. He definitely didn’t mean to act as if your lack of knowledge in this situation bothered him. Normally he didn’t care, but the way you looked up at him with big worried eyes and the anxious fiddling of your hands just…ticked him off. He certainly doesn’t mean how condescending his tone is, but he just can’t help it. Pretty girls fucked him in the head. 

“What’s wrong with your car, doll?” 

You fiddled with a strand of your hair. “Um, I don’t actually know,” He lets out an annoyed grunt, running a hand down his face. “Where’d it stop?” “Um, just a little back,” You pointed behind you. “Not too far. I don’t know, it started smoking and making weird noises. Assumed it was bad, so I came here,” He shakes his head, throwing the towel in his hand to the side and grabbing a shirt from one of the chairs. “Yeah sweetheart, that is very bad,” 

“Okay well, I figured,” You hesitated. “Can you uh, can you fix it?” “Depends,” He grunted, pulling the shirt over his head. He’d walk past you out front to grab his truck keys from the cash desk, making a couple more caveman noises to indicate that you should follow him. 

Imagine getting to his truck and you stand there awkwardly because there’s no fucking way you could get in there. It’s too high up, and you sure as hell can’t just jump into it. You throw your purse in, brace your hands on the door, and try to lift your leg high enough to reach the step. 

Imagine Frank getting so fucking pissed when your dress rides up to barely even cover the curve of your ass and he just places his (very big, very warm) hands on your waist and hauls you up, firmly sitting you on the chair and slamming the door shut. 

Imagine how the short drive to where your car stopped is just filled with really awkward silence as you clutch your purse to your chest. Frank's got the radio on, an arm hanging out the window, but his other hand on the steering wheel is holding it so tightly his knuckles are turning white. And he looks almost calm, if not for the way he’s clenching his jaw so hard you think he might shatter his teeth. 

You pull up to your car, and Frank whistles quietly as he gets out of his truck and walks over to examine it. “What d'ya do to this thing?”

You practically hopped out of the truck, frowning. “Nothin’! I didn’t even do anything. I was just driving back home and it broke down,” 

“Well ya must’ve done somethin’ if she broke down this bad,” He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. “Can you open the front?” 

“What if it like- explodes on you? What then?” You ask horrified. That’s a horrible impression to leave on someone.

“Not gonna explode, now open the damn front,” 

You nod hesitantly, unlocking the car to open up the front. He tries to blow away the smoke with his hand, but it’s really no use. “Yeah, might need to take it back to the garage,” 

“But-” You felt your bottom lip wobbling. How could everything go to shit so fast. “I need to get home!”

Despite how grumpy Frank wanted to stay, he can’t help soften when it’s clear how panicked you felt. He knew you were the newest person in town, and he also knew he’d have everyone on his ass if he didn’t try and help a little more. 

But he’s still gonna be an ass about it. “I’ll drive you back to your house and send someone for your car, no need to cry ‘bout it, doll,”

You nod hesitantly, taking a few deep breaths. “Okay. Okay, thank you,” And then you smiled this shy, grateful smile at him and he felt like the air was knocked right out of his lungs. You were gorgeous, he knew that, but looking at you now he felt a wave of protectiveness wash over him. You looked….cute. And he wanted to keep that smile on your face. Shit. Imagine Frank realising just how fucked he is, having to help such a cute and pretty girl out, he’d just shut himself off even more. His frown deepens and he only communicates in grumbles and grunts as he drives you back home and calls someone to come pick up your car. He only holds out his hand to ask for your keys- not even uttering a word, just holds out those really sexy hands. He just sits in his truck with his arm out the window as you hop out of the seat and make your way up your porch. He feels so screwed. Even your house looked cute. 

“Thank you,” You call out to him.

He raises a hand in return and then he pulls out from in front of the house and drives back to his shop. 

You falter a bit, feeling a tad stung at how shut off he is. Maybe not everyone is as open as you were, but he could have at least smiled. You sigh, walking into your house and dropping your purse at the door. You discard your shoes, and head to the kitchen to grab a couple snacks and collapse on the couch, feeling overall exhausted and drained from the whole day. Maybe you won’t have to see Grumpy for another few days- just so you could cool down. 

The landline rings a few minutes after, and you frown. Who the hell would have the landline’s number? You get up and answer the phone. “Hello?” “Hey daisy, it’s Frank. You left your groceries in the car,” Frank’s voice fills your ear (god he sounds so…so hot) 

Your eyes widen and you gasp in shock. “Fuck, I did!” 

He hums in response. “Yeah. Bet you need those, don’tcha?” 

You nod slowly. “Yeah, I kind of do,”

There’s commotion from Frank’s side, it sounds a lot like someone yelling at him. He sighs heavily. “Alright daisy, I’ll figure somethin’ out f’r you,” And then he hangs up. 

Daisy? Figure it out? And why was it so oddly comforting to know he could handle this without you needing to worry?

[the-somwthing]

LITTLE BIT OF UHH 3RD LIFE SCOTTISHBEANS I WROTE JUST NOW HEHEHE

Takes place in the last session (in an au where there’s like. More time between events than just an hour or so.)

This is supposed to be a later chapter of a fic I’m working on! I’m doing things out of order 😭 so there are references to scenes I haven’t yet written in it sorry it shouldn’t be THAT bad tbh. When I actually make the fic this chapter will likely be edited whenever it appears haha

SHIP: Scott/Joel

WORD COUNT: 2143

WARNINGS (mostly just things to be aware of): somewhat of neck kissing, implied sexual stuff (just thinking about it very vaguely), flower husbands is mentioned but Jimmy is dead, headcanon with 3L!red!Joel and his monochrome/red skin, once again references to scenes I have not written, it may feel rather ooc but that’s cuz this is meant to be a later chapter so they’re already fairly close, repressing/denying feelings (and some failing at that), some pessimism about the war, NO DIALOGUE (when I planned this out I was like “wait there’s no dialogue” and decided I’d take it as a challenge and really have just no dialogue)

❤️💛💚

The war had been rough for everyone. It kept all players on edge, no matter how indirect their involvement was. At this point, it was pick a side or die in the crossfire. Scott and Joel had chosen the Desert, but neither of them had much reason to be part of the conflict.

The two had spent the past few days together, constantly running, though Scott could hardly tell if they were running to survive or running to kill. Somewhat of a mix of both, he figured. No matter the reason, they were constantly running, and nice peaceful moments were hard to come by.

Then it happened. They lost their target, the enemy hadn’t seen them yet, they were alone in a remote part of the world. Scott was tired, the grass looked soft, and he flopped himself onto it. Joel was clearly still running on adrenaline despite accepting that it was break time, and so he practically jumped onto Scott, grabbed him, and rolled with him.

Scott had grown used to the annoying ways Joel would throw himself at Scott and jostle him around. He figured it was a red life thing. Jimmy had also become more physical after turning red, though never so aggressive. Through observing others, Scott knew that suppressing violent urges was harder for most reds than Jimmy made it look. Joel tackling Scott was clearly not an act of violence, rather an act of affection. He typically only did stuff like that when they had accomplished something, or at least had some fun.

This moment was the opposite of that. They lost their target, and usually Joel was frustrated at that. They weren’t having fun running, either; it was exhausting and anxiety-inducing. And yet, in what should’ve been a moment of catching their breaths and saying “better luck next time,” Joel had rolled in the grass with Scott.

It wasn’t just Joel who acted out of character in that moment, for Scott would usually tell Joel off for playing so rough with him. It was mostly in a friendly manner, as Scott didn’t mind too much, but it could be annoying when unexpected, like in this moment. But instead of doing that, Scott laughed. He held onto Joel, rolling with him, and laughed in delight.

The ground was rather flat, so they didn’t roll very far. Joel sat up next to Scott, giggling with him. Scott figured that if Joel wasn’t going to lay in the grass, he wouldn’t either, and sat up as well, feeling a little dizzy from all the movement.

Scott shook his head and briefly brushed his hair with his hands, hoping to remove any dirt or grass. It wasn’t a thorough job, so he had to hope he was lucky. He took a look at Joel’s hair, noticing that a few bits of grass had gotten tucked into his hair, enough to turn monochrome as well.

Scott managed to pull out one piece of grass before Joel swatted his hand away. Scott glared at Joel, who tried to glare back but was still smiling. Scott wasn’t sure what that was about, but rolled his eyes and pulled Joel closer to remove the grass from his hair.

He knew that touching Joel’s hair like this made Joel flustered, but it needed to be done. Besides, he couldn’t care about Joel’s expression when he was too busy observing how the grass would regain color when taken out of Joel’s hair. Sure, he had experimented with this phenomenon in the past (don’t think about the flower) but it was never not fun to witness.

Scott was finally finished (it shouldn’t have taken so long, but watching colors change can be so distracting…) and pulled away to get a full look at Joel. His face was about as red as he expected (red being the only color allowed on Joel’s body was pretty unfortunate because it made his blush very obvious… but Scott didn’t feel bad for him). The sight made Scott chuckle and ruffle Joel’s hair.

Joel had accepted this fate (it was obvious that he had, otherwise Scott wouldn’t have been able to remove the grass at all). He seemed annoyed and embarrassed, yet once Scott’s hand left his head he moved himself onto Scott’s lap.

This surprised Scott, but instead of showing it or becoming flustered and embarrassed, it just made him happy. He wrapped his arms around Joel at the same time Joel did, sighing contentedly. For some reason this made Joel laugh quietly, and laughter had felt quite contagious in this moment so Scott giggled back.

There was no reason for them to be doing this. It didn’t make sense. And yet, it felt so right. The world was falling apart around them, everyone knew it was endgame, there would be no peace. Scott and Joel had nothing left to hold onto, nothing left to fight for, but they had each other. They hadn’t had each other a week ago, in fact they were quite against each other. But in the last moments of the world, the only thing they had was each other. It should’ve been sad. It should’ve been awkward. But Scott was having a great time.

Scott cupped Joel’s face in his hands to look at him. Joel’s face showed that he was also enjoying his time with Scott. This moment felt perfect. It was the most perfect moment in the world. There was one thing his heart wanted to do. He leaned in and kissed Joel…

…on the cheek. They’re not in love! They’re not married! They were just two soldiers doing mindless battles together. A kiss on the cheek is enough for that- maybe even too much, really. They hadn’t even declared themselves friends yet (mostly that’s because there was no reason to. There would be nothing after the war worth having friends for).

But as Scott pulled away, he could feel it wasn’t enough. He knew it was enough, he thought it was maybe too much, but he felt that it wasn’t enough. He couldn’t stop himself from leaning in for another kiss: planted right on Joel’s other cheek. Surely that would be enough.

Of course, it wasn’t. Scott continued like this, kissing all over Joel’s face (never too close to the mouth) and thinking each time “that’s it. I’m done. That’s enough.” but never really feeling that. He failed to stop himself from kissing Joel, but was able to stop himself from kissing him on the lips.

The only person Scott had kissed was his husband, Jimmy. He couldn’t imagine doing that to anyone else. Even though Jimmy was dead, it didn’t make sense to Scott to move on so quickly. Well, with Jimmy it didn’t take long to fall in love either… no, no, what is this train of thought?! Scott loved Jimmy, so much. He did not love Joel, not at all. They were barely acquaintances. A few nights sleeping under the stars together couldn’t have changed that, right?

Scott could not bear the thought of moving on from Jimmy, which meant he couldn’t bear the thought of loving Joel, which meant he couldn’t bear the thought of kissing him on the lips. And yet, he needed to. Every quick kiss he planted onto Joel’s face didn’t satiate his desire at all. He wanted more, so much so that the rational part of his brain was struggling to stop him.

At this point, it was almost worse than just kissing Joel. An endless stream of kisses, all over his face (minus his mouth). That’s gotta be worse at this point, right? But Scott couldn’t stop. The part of Scott that didn’t want to make Joel uncomfortable noted that Joel hadn’t made even a noise of protest, and he knew that if Joel didn’t like this he would be shoved off instantly. The rest of Scott’s brain didn’t want to think of the implications of Joel liking this. Repressing feelings is much easier when it’s not mutual. If Joel had shoved Scott away, he wouldn’t be having this dilemma at all.

Scott had found a way to rationalize what he was doing. He just missed Jimmy so much, that he was desperate to give affection like he had with Jimmy. Surely, he would be acting like this to anybody, not just Joel. He even extended this rationality to Joel, deciding that he had just been so lonely this whole season that he would take affection from anyone, it had nothing to do with Scott.

None of this was true, but Scott held onto this idea. He wasn’t in love with Joel, he just missed Jimmy so much. Joel didn’t love Scott, he was just lonely (that one, at least, was more believable. Still not true). This is what Scott would tell himself any time he would think back to this moment. He would believe it, too, no matter how much his heart proved the theory wrong.

Scott had begun doing a circle of kisses around Joel’s face, starting from one cheek and going up from there, then to Joel’s forehead, then down to the other cheek. As previously mentioned he tried to stop himself each time, but obviously, it was never enough, and he had to complete the circle.

Once he reached Joel’s other cheek, he still wasn’t satisfied, and it technically wasn’t a circle unless he crossed over to the other cheek again. He would never kiss Joel on the mouth though, so he began kissing downwards, towards Joel’s chin. This is where things went wrong (or maybe right).

After Scott kissed Joel’s chin (kind of an awkward place to kiss, honestly) Joel had tilted his head up. Exposing his neck. Scott did not hesitate to press his lips against Joel’s neck. He did, however, hesitate to go much further than that. This much more intimate position snapped Scott out of his haze of wanting to kiss Joel.

His lips rested on Joel’s neck a moment longer, the moment Scott was trying to figure out what was going on. When he finally realized, he pulled away. Joel seemed to also take a moment to figure out what had happened before lowering his head. This made their eyes meet, and they stared at each other dumbfounded; like neither of them knew what was going on. Honestly, they probably didn’t. Everything that just transpired was so spontaneous.

Joel’s face was very red, and Scott imagined his own face wasn’t too different. Scott wanted to say something, but what? Sorry for almost kissing you on the neck? That was hardly Scott’s fault, Joel was the one who exposed his neck for Scott!! Sorry for NOT kissing you on the neck?! He’s recently been widowed! He can’t just go immediately kissing another man’s neck!

Why had Joel done that anyway?! Scott could hardly believe it. A red name who had spent a decent amount of time trying to kill him just exposed his neck to Scott. To kiss. Scott was a yellow name! Joel’s supposed to want to kill him, he did want to kill him in the past, but in this moment he had silently asked Scott to kiss his neck. And Scott almost did. God, what were they doing?!

Joel must’ve been really embarrassed, but Scott couldn’t tease him for it, not when he was also acting so… intimate. Scott tried to think back to figure out who started it, but the memory almost felt hazy and he got too embarrassed thinking about it so he gave up. It didn’t matter who started it anyway; they both indulged. Indulged quite a bit… what would’ve happened if Scott didn’t stop where he had? How far would they have gone?! Now this thought was too embarrassing for Scott to dwell on. Surely Joel wouldn’t have wanted to go THAT far…

After a while of staring at each other, Joel got off Scott’s lap and looked away. Wow, he was really embarrassed. He looked so small like this. Scott felt bad; having been the one who stopped that interaction he could at least pretend he didn’t want it. He wouldn’t do that to Joel, though. The only person he’d lie to about that is himself.

Scott laid down on the grass. It was incredibly awkward between the two, and neither could seem to say anything about it. It seemed best to just rest. Slow that heart rate to normal, breathe. This is what they should’ve been doing when they stopped in the field. Resting. Without touching.

Neither of them moved to interact with each other. Eventually, they got up to continue the war. Neither of them spoke of that moment ever again.

It was just a moment of weakness on both their parts; Joel being lonely and Scott missing Jimmy. They didn’t want each other. Not at all.