#of leaning on a big cow and almost falling asleep on a field with her after the rain | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

smallraindrops-blog · 3 years

Text

Part two of A Road to Somewhere

💤

You weren't sure when you fell asleep, maybe after the stop for gas. But when you woke up, the skies had mellowed into soft oranges and pinks.

Hypnos' had his shade tucked into his shirt, and his fingers tapped along the wheel in time to the music.

His face looked relaxed for the first time since the trip began. Your heart tightened with something you couldn't put a name to, even if you were upset with him, you still wanted him happy.

You sat up with a yawn, "Where are we?"

"Moo." Hypnos replied.

"Really? Fine, you are free from the bet or whatever." You waved a hand around.

"We just got into the mountain path, about an hour away from the inn my mom told me about." Hypnos chatted quickly. "And then we are only ten minutes away from the ocean. Which you will be amazed at and will thank me profusely for taking you."

You chuckled, "Did you miss being able to talk my ear off?"

Hypnos shoved your shoulder with a laugh, "Shut up. You just got lucky with that cow."

"You know I've seen pictures right? I know what the ocean looks like." You told Hypnos.

"Oh sure, the pictures are totally the same." Hypnos rolled his eyes, "I told you to trust me how many times now?"

"Okay. Okay. You're right, Hypnos." You said.

"Thank you! See now only if I can get everyone else to see that." Hypnos replied.

It was about two hours of driving on the path and no inn sight when you spoke up.

"I think we're lost." You said quietly as you studied the dark and looming woods. There was no light or signs to guide you. Even the moonlight offered little help.

"We are not lost. Mom probably just forgot how long it takes to get there." Hypnos squinted into the dark, even the high beams struggled to break through the darkness.

You pulled up your phone, and tried to get the google maps pulled up. You gave up after a few minutes and opened up the paper map.

"Told you so." Hypnos murmured.

You opted not to respond as you used your phone's flashlight to read the map.

After a few moments, you found roughly where you were. You could see where the mountain path ended. "It looks like there might be a turn up here to leave the mountains. Maybe twenty miles? Is that where inn is?"

Hypnos nodded, "Yeah, you go past the mountains, keep driving until you can hear the ocean, you should be able to see the inn."

You bit your bottom lip as you watched the dark forest blurred together. You really hoped Hypnos was right about this.

💤

It had been another hour with no end in sight. Only the dark woods remained, an unwelcome present.

Hypnos had stopped talking, his hands tight on the wheel. The air was tense and you could feel how tight your chest was. Normally you could count on Hypnos to break it but Hypnos hasn't been himself for most of the trip. The drunk call at three am, the lack of his phone use and how desperate he was for you to see the ocean; something he never seemed to care about before.

You rolled your head to look at him. He still looked good, even when he was stressed and tired. And you were far too tired to care if Hypnos caught you staring.

"Do you remember what I said I would do if we got lost in the woods?" You asked him, breaking the silence for the first time in a while. "You know, eating your bones and whatnot."

Hypnos' lips quirked up in a small grin. "Why is it that every time when something happens you threaten to eat me? You did it even when we were in the boy scouts together."

"Maybe because I know how tasty you are." You said without thinking.

Hypnos laughed, "I never thought cannibalism would be used to hit on me but here we are."

You went silent, flushed and turned away to stare out the window. "I wasn't…"

"No. No, I know. Just a joke." Hypnos said quickly.

You didn't see the glance Hypnos shot you. The air grew thick with awkwardness that you were unwilling to break.

"Y/N, look I know we haven't talked about-" Hypnos started to say but you shook your head. You weren't doing this, not now, not where there was no privacy to hide your emotions.

"Do you know how much longer?" You asked, trying not to think about what just happened or about anything.

"Not too long, I think the treeline got thinner." Hypnos replied, his voice hurt. You flinched at his tone, and hated yourself for causing it.

Just as he said that, you broke past the woodland into an open field.

And just like that the air in the car changed.

"Oh thank fuck!" Hypnos whooped and you laughed at his manic smile. "Y/N, roll down the windows. Do you hear anything?"

You obeyed him, and tried to listen over the rush of wind. "Nothing yet. No wait...I think I do hear it."

"Just wait until tomorrow. You're gonna love it." Hypnos yawned.

"Let me take over, you've been driving for the whole trip." You told him, watching Hypnos shake his head.

"Thanks but no. I got this. And also look ahead, the inn should be right around there." Hypnos pointed out and once you made it over the hill, you saw it.

Softly lit by warm lights, it looked like it belonged in a storybook. Once you arrived, checked in with the chatty front desk girl and made your way to the room, one with two beds, you sat down with a happy sigh. You kicked your shoes off, watching Hypnos stumbled to his own bed.

Hypnos flopped face down on his bed with a moan. "I love this bed." He slurred. "Best bed ever."

You looked around the room, it leaned into the nautical with soft blues walls and white shells decor. A small white and green turtle figurine stared at you from your bedside table.

"Hey Hypnos?" You asked, staring at the turtle so you didn't have to look at him. "I'm sorry. About what happened in the car."

When you got no response, you glanced at him only to see him soundly asleep. You walked over to him and lightly stoke his hair. Carefully you tugged his shoes off and flipped what blanket you could over him.

And with that you turned off the lights.

💤

"No peeking. I swear I will turn the car around if I see you even try." Hypnos' hand covered your face but you pushed his hand away.

"I've been covering my eyes since we got the car." You replied, a little grumpy at how early Hypnos woke up. The one time you would have wanted to sleep in, Hypnos was up and moving even before the inn started serving breakfast.

"Mom took me and my brothers here once, did I tell you that?" Hypnos sounded excited. "Than got stung by a jellyfish and cried for like three hours."

"You sound way too happy about that." You chuckled.

"He kicked over my sand castle, he deserved it." Hypnos muttered.

You felt the car stopped and with one more warning not to peek, Hypnos got out. Your door opened and Hypnos gilded you out.

His hands rested on your shoulders, warm and big. It took everything not to lean more into the touch.

You heard the sounds of crashing waves and a faint sound of a gull cry.

"Okay... and look!"

It was beautiful. The ocean was so much bluer than you thought possible. You stepped on to the sand and walked forward, Hypnos followed behind you.

You two were the only souls around the hidden patch of beach between the cliffs, and all you can hear is the ocean hitting the rocks.

"Dude! How did your mom find this place?" You asked as you stopped short of the ocean's reach.

"My dad brought her here when they first met." Hypnos kicked off his flip flops and stepped into the water up his knees.

You copied him, only to almost fall backwards when a big wave came but caught yourself at the last second. "Woah, I didn't expect the waves to be so strong."

Hypnos tossed an arm around your shoulders to hold you steady as the waves rolled past both of you. He laughed warmly, "So pictures are totally the same thing huh?"

You smiled, "You're right, the pictures don't do justice."

"Music to my ears, Y/N." Hypnos squeezed your shoulder, "Come on. Let's get set up."

💤

The day went by quickly, sunset had just begun with deep reds and oranges. You could feel the sunburn already on your cheeks. Hypnos' shoulders and back were already burned and you knew you would be hearing him bitch about it later.

You laid on your stomach on the beach towel, lazily watching him build the tower of a sand castle.

Hypnos' tongue was sticking out a little and it made him look boyishly charming.

You looked toward the ocean, the waves lapping away at the footprints left behind. You didn't see the small bucket Hypnos packed tightly with sand or the devious look in his eyes.

You yelped when the cold lid of the bucket touched between your shoulder blades, followed by the sand. You turned your head toward Hypnos who grinned at your offended glare.

He immediately begins adding more on you, patting it down firmly with both hands.

"Hypnos." You said carefully, "If you put any more sand on me, I will kick your ass."

Wordlessly Hypnos scooped up a huge pile of sand in his hand and met your eyes.

"I won every fight we ever had since we were kids, so don't." You warned, eyes narrowed but a grin threatened to break on your face.

With a mad laugh, Hypnos dropped the sand on your back and you promptly tackled him. You were able to push his back into the sand but half a second later, you realized you missed both his arms as they tightened around your shoulders.

Hypnos rolled, pulled you along with him and your back hit the sand. You let out a grunt as you tried to squirm out but Hypnos matched you for every move. You freed one hand only for Hypnos to grab your wrist and pinned it by your head.

He immediately took the opportunity to do the same with your other wrist as he straddled your waist with all of his weight on you.

Hypnos stared down at you, panting slightly. You could tell he looked surprised as you did.

You relaxed under him, and spread out your hands.

"You win." You told him softly. Between the sounds of the waves and how the sunset made Hypnos' eyes even more golden, you couldn't think straight. Or even about how you found yourself in this position again when you swore you wouldn't.

"I win." Hypnos agreed just as softly. He leaned down and kissed you before you could react. For a few minutes, you returned the slow and deep kiss. Hypnos hummed deep in his throat, his chest fully against yours.

Hypnos pulled away, his face flushed and looking at him was what brought you back to reality.

"Nono. No. Hypnos get off now. Please." You begged him. Immediately he moved off and sat down on the sand.

There was an awkward pause as you sat up, not able to speak. A hard wind blew against you, and you shook at how cold and alone you felt.

"Y/N…" Hypnos murmured, his hand reached out to touch you but you moved away.

"No, I'm not doing this again." You said as you curled in on yourself. "Last time almost killed me. Not again."

"What are you talking about?" Hypnos moved closer but didn't touch you, his tone gentle. "Y/N. Look at me. Please. Are… Are you talking about the first time we kissed?"

"What else could I be talking about, Hypnos?" You snapped, "You can't just keep acting like it didn't happen."

"I haven't but you certainly have!" Hypnos' tone turned hard. "I just tried to act like it wasn't a big deal when you made it clear you didn't want a relationship with me."

Hypnos laughed but it wasn't friendly. "And I was the one who brought it up in the car in case you forgot, Y/N."

"Excuse me for not wanting to be your Meg replacement." You snapped at him, not knowing what else to say. You stood to walk away but Hypnos leaped up. His hands grabbed your shoulders and turned you around to face him. His other hand squeezed your biceps.

"What are you talking about?" Hypnos said, his tone desperate.

"You're kidding me right? You've been in love with her since seventh grade when she punched you during gym and gave you a nosebleed." You cried. "I knew you were upset at finding out that your brother is dating her."

Hypnos said nothing for a few moments before he chuckled, "I haven't looked, let alone thought of her that like in years."

You stared, not quite believing what you were hearing. "But you were upset when you found out Thanatos was dating Meg and Zagreus."

"I was upset that he didn't tell me that they had been together for almost a whole year." Hypnos paused. "And that they didn't lock the door. I mean come on. At least a sock on the front door or something."

You laughed slightly, and Hypnos grinned softly. He looked at you with such fondness you had to look away from him to keep yourself from blushing.

"Do you know why I brought you here,Y/N?" He asked carefully.

You opened your mouth only to close it. After a few seconds, you mutely shook your head.

"I want my best friend back." Hypnos said brokenly.

"I had this stupid idea if I could just go somewhere new or different with you, that maybe we could forget what I did to our friendship." Hypnos talked as you stay quiet. "I knew I fucked up, I pushed too hard and too soon but god, I couldn't look away from you anymore and… And I thought you felt the same."

You swallowed, "I thought when you acted like it didn't happen you regretted what happened, regretted me."

"Never, how could I regret you? Y/N, when we weren't talking I was going crazy. I felt like I had a limp missing. Mom was showing me these photos back when we were kids, and you were in almost all of them." Hypnos swallowed. "I just want you back."

You took a deep breath, feeling like you were on a cliff and didn't know if you were to fall forward or backward. "You didn't lose me. I just didn't want to be the thing you used to get over Meg."

"Is that why you didn't want to go out with me?" Hypnos asked and squeezed your arm gently. "Y/N, I don't know if you noticed but I've been crazy about you for years."

"Oh." You blinked. "Oh."

Hypnos smiled, "Yeah. Oh."

"Is it too late? For us?" You asked, heart racing.

"Never." Hypnos cupped your face. "Can I kiss you again?"

"Yes, please." You met him halfway into the kiss, smiling with relief.

Days later, on your way home, Hypnos' hand rested on your thigh as you sat in peace.

It felt like home.

#hades hypnos #hypnos x reader #hypnos x male!reader #requests

36 notes · View notes

questioningstressing · 3 years

Text

Mr.Loverman part 1

Stardew valley bachlors x chubby! trans! male reader.

First story posted on tumblr. 1,537 words!

The faint chatter of false kind voices talking politely to customers over phones echoed through the cubicles, making Y/n feel empty, his chest felt hollow. His eyes stared at his computer screen, data and random memos flooded his head.

This really wasn't how he expected his life to go, sitting in a soul-draining, dream-crushing, aspiration-ruining, cubical, run by an evil corporation that had by this point taken over the grocery industries and planning to basically take over the world. He felt miserable.

And he wasn't even given time off after top surgery. In fact, he was being forced to work, but by this point, he couldn't sue. JoJo was so rich, they worked hand in hand with the government.

His chest hurt, he had to get help to get his fucking employee shirt on, he couldn’t get paperwork because it was always on high shelves, and he was turned into a go-for because his productivity was so low.

Y/n rubbed his hands over his face, trying to ignore the pain that was thrumming through his chest, the fresh stitches hurt so bad, he couldn’t focus, he sighed and stood up. Too quickly it seemed.

Pain shot through his chest, it stung, he gasped, looking down at his chest, blood seeping out onto his dark blue shirt, leaving a stain that slowly started growing. His body screamed at him to sit back down.

He whimpered and cried softly, he needed to call someone, but they took away cell phones to keep up productivity, he shouted. “Please! I need help!” he shook softly as pain shot through him.

Thirty minutes passed of this, of constant begging for help, shouting, and yelling as his chest bled before his manager came to his cubicle, basically making small talk while y/n cried in pain.

That was fucking it, y/n could fucking deal with it, so, after three months of bed rest, he got on a bus and went to Stardew Valley, and to his grandfather's farm.

The bus passed under street lights as Y/n leaned his head against the window, staring longingly out the window and at the stars, music blaring through his headphones. His mind was racing and anxiety pooled in his stomach as he thought about the fact he was uprooting his life and moving 17 hours away to his grandfather's old farm.

It was too late to turn back now, the bus was driving and Y/n couldn’t stop it, he couldn’t turn and run like a scared animal. He couldn’t, his eyes filled with tears, he couldn’t cry right now, he did this for himself, he did this for his own mental health.

Y/n let out a sigh as he closed his eyes and leaned against the window, soon falling into a blissful slumber.

Y/n was awoken by the sudden jolt of the bus stopping, he realized this was his stop, Stardew valley. He picked up his bag and his small suitcase, dragging it sleepily off the bus, greeted by a young woman.

“Hello, you must be Y/n!” The woman said enthusiastically, a bright smile on her face “I’m robin the local carpenter, mayor Lewis sent me here to fetch you and show you the way to your new home. He’s there right now, tidying things up for your arrival, the farms right over there, if you’ll follow me.” Robin turned on her heel looking back quickly to make sure y/n was following.

Y/n seemed a bit frazzled, having just come from a 17-hour bus trip and then having info dumped upon him, he followed quickly after the woman as they followed a dirt road down to a decent-sized house “This is F/n (farm name) farm.” Robin gestured to the farm with her arm.

Weeds, rocks, trees, and branches scattered across the ground. It dawned on Y/n that he’d need to do more work than expected, and his sudden relaxation seemed to be present on his face as Robin asked “What’s the matter? Sure it's a bit overgrown but there's some good soil under that mess! With a little dedication, you’ll have it cleaned up in no time!”

Robin encouraged Y/n who turned to look at Robin, who once again turned on her heel to lead him up to the door. Once they got up to the steps Robin’s smile stretched a bit “...And here we are! Your new home!” Y/n looked at the door and an older man walked out

“Ah the new farmer!” he said “I’m mayor Lewis, mayor of pelican town! You know everybody’s been asking about you!” Mayor Lewis said “It's not every day someone new moves in! It’s quite a big deal!” The mayor says, before turning to look at the rickety old cottage “So… you’re moving into your grandfather's old cottage? It’s a good house…. Very… rustic...” He seemed to be trying to make Y/n feel more comfortable, which was failing.

“Rustic is one way to put it! Crusty might be a little more apt though!” Robin joked, and the mayor looked shocked “Rude!” he said quickly as robin laughed “Don’t listen to her Y/n she’s just trying to make you dissatisfied so that you buy one of her house upgrades.” Lewis said to y/n

Robin crossed her arms as she made a noise that seemed a bit upset as the mayor continued “Anyway… you must be tired from the long journey you should get some rest. Tomorrow you ought to explore the town and introduce yourself, the townspeople would appreciate that!” Lewis said, a kind smile on his face, before he turned on his heel and began to leave before turning back around “Oh! And I almost forgot, if you have anything to sell just place it in this box here ill come during the night to collect it!” he paused for a moment “Well… good luck!” Before both he and Robin walked away.

Y/n let out a breath walking into his grandfather's old house as soon as he could and dropping his bags down on the ground, kicking off his old beat-up shoes, taking off his shirt leaving him in his underwear, he looked down at himself, his face twisting in displeasure as he studied his body.

Y/n was not a thin man by any means, in fact, he was a large man, something he got teased for constantly, his soft tummy, large thighs, and round face haunted him like a persistent ghost. He let out a sigh “Don’t think about it.” he muttered to himself, gently tracing the scars that rest just below his chest, the few things that made him happy about his body, his top surgery scars, inverted T scars sat beautifully under his chest, a reminder he was strong.

He let out a gentle sigh as he sat on the edge of the bed head in his hands, his body gently shaking as he began to cry, did he really uproot his life for this? He wanted to love it, the few times he visited his grandfather's farm he remembered loving it.

Every time he would run around the fruit trees, climbing them to pick any ripe fruit he could, sometimes falling and scraping his knees on the tiny rocks beneath. Water the plants with his grandfather, play in the field with the cows even though his grandfather told him not to.

The memories float into his head leaving this moment more somber, his heart heavy with sadness.

Y/n let out a shaky breath before breathing in deep and letting out a little laugh, was he really crying about it not being up to his expectations? How much more of a ‘stuck up city boy’ could he get?

He stared at the floor as he shook his head, no, he was gonna work hard on getting the farm to look nice, to be like his memories, to impress his grandfather, starting tomorrow he was gonna get this place tidied up.

Y/n laid in bed, pulling the warm duvet over him, causing him to soon fall asleep, and he dreamt.

He was in a field filled with F/c (favorite colored) flowers, that smelled familiar, he began to walk in a direction, the further out into the field he got he heard a group of male voices laughing and talking, he soon found the group.

They were in a cuddle pile, a man with short purple hair and a torn-up Joja hoodie held someone with short brown wavy brown hair with glasses.

leaning against the Joja hoodie guy’s shoulder was a man with long black hair that covered one of his eyes, and in his arms, a spikey blond-haired guy was curled up seeming to have fallen asleep.

On the other shoulder, a long-haired gentleman rested, seeming to be smiling as he read something, a short-haired man wearing a green sweater was reading over the long-haired gentleman's shoulder. Y/n smiled and he realized he knew them, they felt like home.

He quickly joined the cuddle pile, all of them seeming excited to see him. He fell asleep on their laps, his hair gently being pat.

#stardew sebastian #stardew elliott #stardew farmer #male reader #trans reader #chubby reader #stardew shane #stardew alex #stardew harvey #stardew bachelors #gay

60 notes · View notes

amintyworld · 3 years

Text

Waterfall - Dream SMP Drabble

SUNSET (Part Two), SECRETS (Part Three), DOUBTS (Part Four)

Wilbur enjoyed campfires - specifically, the calming sensation of the world around him as everything began to sleep for the night. He sat on the round with a sigh as he heard the wind whistle through the trees above and he leaned his back against the tree trunk. Things were peaceful - Techno sat near the fire’s glow, sharpening his sword as Philza cooked their latest kill over the fire. Tommy ran through the field, catching fireflies in a jar, tripping and falling on rocks and roots every now and then, making sounds of triumphant glee when he managed to catch a few safely in the jar.

Wilbur felt the wind blow through his hair again, and he took off his beanie and let it tangle his brown curls. It was a tiring day, to say the least - they were trying to find some wild pigs and cows to bring home and had gotten lost, hiking for hours on end until they called it quits and made up camp. Wilbur wasn’t worried, though - Philza and Techno both had a good sense of direction.

“Dinner.” Philza called as Wilbur and Tommy both began to walk over and sit closer to the fire as Philza handed them a few bits of meat - warm, but never burning hot. It was moments like this when Wilbur remembered why Philza was the cook.

“Phil! Look, I got so many!” Tommy proclaimed as he held up his jar proudly, making Philza smile as he looked in the jar at the glimmering light bugs. “I showed my dominance over them, and they raced into the jar!”

Philza ruffed up Tommy’s golden hair slightly as he smiled warmly. “Good job, Tommy.” Tommy beamed as they both sat down and began to eat.

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

“I bet I can totally get you, just like the fireflies.”

“Sure, Tommy.”

“I can, I’ll kick your butt, just watch!”

“Nothing gets me off guard. Just practice.”

“Yeah, well... nothing catches me off guard either!”

“I can’t believe there’s fireflies out here - I haven’t seen them much around home.” Philza commented as he washed his hands in the nearby river. He turned to Techno and Tommy, chatting and laughing. “Come on, you two. You gotta wash up!”

“Phil...” The smaller child looked displeased as he walked toward the river with his brother. “I don’t wanna... besides, I’ve already wiped them off- HEY!” Before Philza could say a word in edgewise, the pink-haired child smirked as he pushed Tommy into the water with a splash. The river wasn’t deep, thankfully, but it was safe to say that Tommy’s hands were more than clean. Techno smirked as Wilbur laughed, and Phil couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “Unfair! I wasn’t ready-!”

“You’re not supposed to be ready for a surprise attack, idiot-!” Techno remarked, his arms crossed with a joking expression.

“Well, you sure washed up, didn’t ya?” Wilbur added with a laugh.

“Alright, alright,” Philza said between laughs. “Come on, Techno - let’s help him out.” Philza said as Techno held his hand and he reached out the other to Tommy to pull him up. Tommy took Philza’s hand and pulled, hard.

Then all three of them fell back in the river with a splash. “Gotcha, bitch!” Tommy smirked, pointing at Techno as Wilbur burst out laughing. Philza just picked up his hat and put it on his head, water splashing all over his face as all of them laughed, soaked, splashing at each other as they tried in vain to get Wilbur as soaked as they were.

When they finally made it back to the fire, they shivered and shook, looking almost like drowned cats. They dried and soon enough, they were asleep as they always were - Tommy clinging to Philza’s side, Wilbur on their right and Techno on their left, always ready to protect.

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

Wilbur was usually up pretty early as the sun peaked over the horizon. he liked to go exploring by himself and usually mornings were perfect for that. He stretched as he got up, scanning his surroundings before grabbing his sword and sheathing it over his shoulder. he walked down to the river and smiled at the remains of last night - disturbed rocks and mud, and the footprints leading back to camp.

That’s when his ears picked up a sound... was that as waterfall?

He marched after it, following the sound and being sure to follow the river as to not get lost. He cut through the brambles and continued his journey when he froze. Someone was singing. It wasn’t perfect by any means, it sounded a bit rough here and there, but it still had its charm.

Philza always told him to be prepared for anything - looks and especially sounds can be deceiving. He slowly pulled out his sword and peeked over the brambles.

There stood a girl - well not really a girl, per se - her hair was strawberry blonde, cascading down her hair in a waterfall with a few braids here and there. She shivered slightly and hugged herself close as she snuggled in her magenta sweatshirt, sitting on the edge of a lake, her tail waving a bit in the water and making small waves in the lake. Wilbur did another once over as he tried to process the tail glimmering with a reddish tint, reminding him a bit of a salmon.

She was humming, but it became a bit harder to hear from the waterfall spilling into the lake at the farther end. Without thinking, Wilbur leaned over a bit more to be able to hear. Then, he slipped, falling down into full view of the mysterious woman as she gasped and dove into the water to escape. “Wait, wait I-!” But she was already gone. “I... just wanted to hear you sing.” He sighed, sitting on the edge of the water.

He slowly began trying to wash is hands and face off from the tumble into the dirt, and he struggled to remember what she was singing. He began to hum a bit, what he heard, or what he caught when he listened. Suddenly, he was pinned to the ground as a pinkish wolf jumped out of the water and pounced on him, growling. Wilbur scrambled for his sword. “I will not be lured in, Hunter. I will not let you exterminate me.”

“E-exterminate?!” Wilbur stuttered. “I swear, I don’t want to hurt you-”

“Don’t lie to me. Who sent you?! How’d you find me?!” The wolf looked angry and ready to tear Wilbur apart, as he tried in vain to grab his weapon.

“I...I heard your voice and... I was just following the river!”

Silence fell upon the two before slowly, the wolf’s expression softened. “That’s the truth?”

Wilbur looked to the wolf and he furrowed his brows in worry, he didn’t know what this thing was or what this wolf might do to him, but he stopped trying to reach for his sword. He closed his eyes, and took a breath. “I swear.”

Suddenly, the wolf backed off, and Wilbur opened his eyes to find the girl again, fully human. “If you’re lying to me, you’ll regret it.” She tossed him his sword. “Now get out of here.”

“Wait, I- How’d you do that?” Wilbur asked. “You were just... then you were...”

“I’m a shapeshifter.” She said, eyeing him with curiosity as she sat on next to the water. “I can change into anything, er, any animal.”

“That’s really cool.”

“It’s whatever.” She brushed off, shrugging. “Don’t you have someplace to be?”

“No, not really.” Wilbur admitted. “Not for a while, anyway. Can you show me how you leaped out of the water like that?”

For the first time since Wilbur saw her, she smiled. “Sure. What’s your name?”

“Wilbur.” He said. “You?”

“Sally.”

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

Philza trudged along the river, Tommy rushing in front and Techno trailing behind. “You sure Wilbur went this way?”

“Yeah.” Techno said. “He leaves a big enough trail for it, that’s for sure.” He pointed down on the footprints. “See?”

“Wonder what’s taking him so long, he usually would have headed back by now.”

“I’m sure he’s fine. Probably just got stuck somewhere.”

“Wilbur, is that a woman?!” Tommy shouted just beyond the trees, and Philza and Techno rushed to catch up. A splash could be heard, and Wilbur began arguing, admittedly very loudly, with the younger brother. Philza just sighed.

“You scared her off! Why do you always have to yell all the time-?!”

“Don’t get on me, if you have some kind of secret girlfriend you’re keeping from us-!”

“What’s going on, guys?” Philza asked, and the two began trying to explain, cutting each other off every chance.

“Well, I was just scouting up ahead and-”

“I was just talking to my new friend, and then he-”

“Enough.” He said, sternly. “Wilbur, what happened?”

“I, well, made a new friend, we were talking and then Tommy scared her away.”

“He met a woman, he has a girlfriend-” Tommy interjected, speaking matter-of-factly.

“She’s not my girlfriend!” Wilbur snapped, a bit flustered at the accusation.

“Where is she now?” Philza asked calmly.

Wilbur sighed. “She ran away. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

“I thought you didn’t like goodbyes.” Techno pointed out, and Wilbur just sighed.

“Yeah, well, she deserved one.” Wilbur brushed off,

“Looks like Wil’s on LOOOVVVE-!” Tommy sang, and Wilbur gave him a glare. Then, a stream of water hit Tommy in the back of the head and he turned, rubbing his head where a bruise was sure to form. “HEY-!”

And there, on the side of the lake, was Sally.

#dream smp #wilbur soot #philza #dadza #tommyinnit #technoblade #sally the salmon #sleepy bois inc #wilbur x sally #my writing #dream smp fic #drabble #dream smp drabble #young sleepy bois inc #tw cursing

59 notes · View notes

izlaria · 3 years

Text

Someone you like (part 3)

This is the third chapter of my “Someone you like” inspired fic. It’s also available on AO3 in case you prefer that platform. Please hit me up to talk about Plance!

Summary: Lance finds a better friend in Pidge than he could have antecipated.

Also, Pidge pining hour.

17 and 15 years old

“I can’t believe we have a cow.” Lance stared in awe at the animal. It looked completely out-of-place in the middle of the highly technological castle-ship. “Where did that dude even get her from?” he exclaimed, waving an arm at it. Lance gasped, lowering his voice to a whisper, “Do you think she’s… a clone?”

Kaltenecker kept on chewing, indifferent to Lance’s fussy behavior.

“Most likely,” Pidge responded. She was looking down at a tablet that contained results from the scan they’d conducted on Kaltenecker. “She is carbon-based, which isn’t such a rarity out here, but is always good to know. The anatomy also checks out with normal cow biology. The only change I could find is that her diet is more adapted to what’s available in this quadrant.”

Lance scratched the top of his head. “Does that mean she can’t eat Earth food?”

“She probably can…” Pidge tapped the edge of the tablet in a considering manner. “We eat alien food and nothing has happened yet.”

“So we’re winging it? That doesn’t sound very scientific.” He didn’t like the idea of putting their cow in danger. “Can’t you figure something out for her to eat?”

“I’m not a biochemist, Lance.” Pidge took her eyes off Kaltenecker to glare at him. “Nor a geneticist. That’s more Coran’s area of expertise.”

“Easy!” Lance held up his hands. “We can talk to him, then. I was just asking a question…”

Pidge huffed out a breath, then let her shoulders drop. “I don’t know how you’re not annoyed right now. We spent the entire afternoon in a fountain to get a freaking video game, only to realize we have no way to turn it on!”

“I actually had fun.” Lance shrugged. He didn’t really see what bothered her so much. Sure, he wanted to play Killbot Phantasm, but even the fact that they’d found the game out in the universe was enough for him. “It felt like the sort of crazy I used to get to back home.”

She fidgeted with the tablet in her hands. “Going to the mall and causing a scene?”

Lance eyed Pidge curiously. Her brow was furrowed, but she looked more lost than irritated. “Sure,” he acquiesced. “This was hardly my first time fishing out coins from a fountain.”

“It was for me,” Pidge interrupted brusquely. “I had never done that before.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Really? You’re one of the biggest troublemakers I’ve met. I’m pretty sure you’re at least guilty of fraud after lying about your identity to get into the Garrison.”

For some reason, this seemed to startle her. It was almost ludicrous to think that Pidge had gone undercover without realizing the legal implications of her actions. It would be just like her, too, to get so caught up in the big picture that she simply bulldozed through every other detail.

“That was different, though.” She was pouting now, her cheeks comedically puffed out. “I was more of a homebody when younger.” Her gaze was lowered to her hands, distant. “I don’t have as many stories to tell as you and Hunk.”

“I seriously doubt that.” Lance scoffed. “Aren’t you always talking about the crazy experiments you and Matt did? I bet he will have a bunch of embarrassing shit about you that you never tell us. I can’t wait to get my hands on all that sweet, sweet blackmail!”

Lance wrung his hands menacingly, but when he looked down at Pidge the expression on her face caught him off guard. He expected her to be exasperated or at least displeased, so the tenderness in her eyes was unforeseen.

He’d been talking about her brother as if they would meet soon, Lance realized. Pidge mentioned him often, but not in detail, not in any capacity that didn’t serve to remind everyone of her mission to find her family. He guessed it felt too much like an open wound, like when Lance tried to talk about Marco or Rachel.

But maybe it did them some good, too.

“Besides, even if we never get to play Killbot Phantasm, we still did plenty today.” Lance began to count on his hand. “We stole money from a fountain so we could buy a vintage video game. We got a cow from a space mall. We were chased by an alien security guard who thought we were pirates! I couldn’t make this up if I tried!”

When he laughed, Pidge joined in. She tried to suppress it, but the air escaped through her nose and her lips quirked up in undeniable amusement. It always felt like a victory to make her laugh. Pidge didn’t let herself get distracted often.

“I don’t know,” she quipped, looking more relaxed. “You have the most convoluted stories of anyone I know.”

Although Pidge said it as if it was a bad thing, Lance could see the playfulness in the twist of her mouth. This was nice, too, because a year earlier he would have seen only the harshness in his teammate. On an impulse, he leaned down to hug her.

“W – What?!” Pidge thrashed against his arms. “Lance, let me go!”

“No can do, Pidgey.” He held on. Lance had crossed his arms behind her head, keeping her tight against his chest. “You can’t escape this friendship.”

“Yes, I can, you nitwit!” Pidge’s voice was muffled by his shirt and Lance simply pretended not to hear her. “You’re suffocating me!”

“We have Kaltenecker now, we’re her parents!” he stated happily, despite the sting of Pidge pinching his sides. “Stop, you don’t want her to see us fighting.”

Pidge let her arms fall, looking up at Lance. Her face was red and her hair stuck out from where he’d accidentally run his hands through it. “You’re ridiculous.”

There was a well-placed moo from Kaltenecker, as if the cow agreed.

Lance grinned and finally gave up his grip on her, taking a step back. Pidge immediately punched him in the stomach in retaliation.

“Ow!” he complained, though it was clear she hadn’t put any real force behind it. “We were having a moment!”

Pidge turned up her nose, but her complexion only grew more flustered. “Then you can forget all about it, like you did with Keith.”

“Fine, you win.” Lance crossed his arms, looking smugly down at her. “I did make you blush, though. I might be rusty, but old Lance still has an effect on the ladies!”

“Ugh!” Pidge moved so quickly that Lance had to hide behind Kaltenecker in order to evade her hits. When they stopped running, she kept her tablet at hand, brandishing it as if it was her bayard. “Never say that to me again!”

He stuck his tongue out at her, then had to duck when Pidge aimed the tablet at his head once more. “Jeez, you know I’m kidding!”

“Yeah.” Something in her voice made Lance shoot back up. She was staring right at him, looking more serious than he’d expected. “I know.”

Before he could ask what was wrong, Pidge walked away from where he stood and towards a panel in the back of the room. She deposited her tablet on one side, then started clicking away at a few keys.

“Coran mentioned we could reprogram the room to look like a field on Earth,” she explained once Lance had made his way over. “We could maybe get some vegetation from a planet in this quadrant and create an area for her to graze.”

“Yeah, that would be cool.” He felt almost dizzy from the ups and downs of Pidge’s humor. The coldness that surrounded her now made Lance want to apologize, but it also annoyed him. He thought they were having a good time earlier. “Introducing Kaltenecker to Earth food isn’t really the priority, huh?”

Pidge nodded, avoiding his eyes.

Despite the awkwardness, Lance didn’t want to leave. The idea of letting Pidge stay mad at him left a bitter taste in his mouth, especially after the day they’d had. She could be incessantly frustrating, but she had also grown on him.

Like a weed. A short, bad-tempered weed.

He watched in silence as she worked the panel. Her concentration was admirable, even when she used it as a way to push Lance away. It reminded him of their time in the Garrison, when it felt like every step he took in their friendship was met with two steps back from Pidge.

With the privilege of hindsight, Lance could guess how tiring the disguise must have been for her. Their studies had never been easy and Pidge had perfected her mediocrity like an art. Knowing her true genius now, Lance imagined she’d actually known it all but had chosen to keep herself under the radar.

“Are you just going to stand there?” Her tone struck a chord with him, bringing forth a familiarity that he hadn’t felt since Earth.

Lance put his hands on his hips, raising an eyebrow at her. “I’m just waiting for you, Pidgeon.”

She turned back to the panel, then took a deep breath, as if calming herself.

“I have a lot to do here,” she said in warning. After a moment, her expression softened. “Why don’t you take the game up to your room? I’ll grab Hunk on my way there and we can try to adapt everything to the castle’s power source.”

Lance could recognize her words for the peace offering that they were. He aimed finger guns at her, earning himself a snicker.

“Don’t take too long or I’ll fall asleep!” he called out as he walked backwards, towards the exit.

“I’ll get Kaltenecker to lick your hair, if you do!” she replied, attention already back to the control panel.

Lance laughed, but he knew that was no empty threat.

He didn’t often spend his nights roaming the hallways of the castle. Lance was a big believer on the benefits of good sleep and an established routine. It helped him maintain his complexion blemish-free and it contributed to keeping him sane when his mind felt scrambled beyond repair.

There were times, however, when not even spa days and special hair masks could calm his thoughts, and then he was stuck like this, struggling to fall asleep.

He buried deeper into his jacket. It wasn’t his normal one, but a big, fleece-y thing that Hunk and Pidge had gotten for him in their last trip to the space mall. Lance loved it fiercely. The castle cooled during the night-cycle to ensure the machines didn’t overheat and Lance always suffered for it.

A blinking light on the doors to his right caught Lance’s attention. It signaled movement in the hangar, just one of many fail-safes devised by Coran and Pidge to ensure no one was trying to mess with the lions. The light wasn’t all that worrying on its own; it was just a way to know what rooms were currently in use.

Lance was too tired to think through his actions. He moved into the hangar, not even questioning who might be in there. He wanted to see Blue. Or Red. Or anyone, really.

He rubbed at his eyes, collecting the tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks.

Sure enough, there was Pidge, curled around a set of tools and a big, wiry mess of parts. She had probably been propped up against the processing columns but ended up sliding down in her sleep.

The image filled Lance with so much affection that he found himself smiling. It was unusual to see their youngest member without her defenses put up. She was only second to Keith in her reserve, something that had initially displeased Lance about the two.

Pidge did have the habit of falling asleep while she worked, but Shiro and Hunk were the ones charged with checking on her. Lance thought she looked strangely cute like this, with her mouth a little open and her glasses askew. He’d forgotten how young she truly was, because of how smart and assertive Pidge could be. She didn’t want to be treated like a child and the whole team could respect her strength and maturity.

Even before they’d ended up light-years from Earth, Pidge had already carried more on her shoulders than anyone Lance had ever met. Despite knowing it was a vain hope, Lance wished he hadn’t made things harder for her back in the Garrison.

He crouched down and carefully pulled her glasses free. Strands of hair stuck to her cheeks and forehead, but without the too-big frames Lance could see her face more clearly.

Pidge already looked older than she had when they were students. After so many wormhole jumps, it was difficult to determine how long had passed since their discovery of the Blue Lion, but the passage of time made itself known in other ways.

She was pretty, but that didn’t surprise Lance. Pidge’s no-nonsense ways and sharp eyes had always been striking, even when he only pointed out these aspects of her as a joke.

Lance took off his jacket and balled it up, trying to slip it behind her head. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but it was an improvement to her current position.

“Lance?” Her eyes had fluttered open. From this close, he could see the fatigue that clouded them.

“Hey, Pidgey-Pidge,” he called out in a whisper.

“Hey, loverboy.” She giggled, lids opening and closing tiredly.

The nickname shot another wave of emotion through him. For some reason, Lance felt his eyes burn again.

“We should get you to bed,” he tried to say, though his voice sounded rougher than he intended.

Pidge didn’t immediately notice. She nodded a few times and sat up, stretching her arms over her head. She frowned at the pieces of tech still scattered around them, then focused her eyes back on him.

“Lance,” she sounded much more awake now, “why are you here?”

“Oh, you know,” he stalled. “Sometimes, in the middle of the night, a guy just needs to grab some food goo.” He flexed his now exposed arms. “I’m a growing boy, Pidge.”

Pidge raised a brow, looking supremely unimpressed. “Don’t lie to me.”

Lance winced a little at the terse tone she’d adopted. Even in her half-awake state, Pidge was still able to see through his bullshit.

“The kitchen is nowhere near the hangar,” she continued when he didn’t reply. Her voice was soft in a way Lance had never heard from Pidge. “And your eyes look red.”

He shifted his head to the side to escape her scrutiny. Lance half-expected Pidge to get angry at his stubbornness, so he couldn’t help the small, shocked sob that escaped him when her hand touched his chin, slowly lifting his gaze.

The worry in her face quickly changed into something understanding, an almost desperate ache that must have reflected his own expression. Without another word, Lance buried into her embrace, curved so that his forehead rested on Pidge’s shoulder.

“I c-can’t stop thinking about them,” he confessed amid his sobs. “What – What if they think I’m dead?”

Pidge murmured an “I know” into his hair. Despite their size difference, she wrapped herself around Lance so completely that he felt guarded by her arms.

“Come on,” she said once his whimpers had quieted down. “Your room is the closest.”

Lance let her move away. His knees hurt from the position he’d assumed on the floor and, now that he no longer had Pidge there, the cold of the hangar raised goosebumps across his arms.

“Put this back on.” Pidge draped the fleece jacket over his shoulders. Her hands lingered there for a moment, drawing a line in the fabric. “It’s a better coat than it could ever be a pillow.”

It wasn’t much of a joke, but Lance smiled at her. Crying made him exhausted, but not enough to ignore Pidge’s efforts to cheer him up. He stood up.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it.”

They made their way to his room in silence. Pidge had to stop at the hangar doors to put in the security measures, but no more words were exchanged. Lance was just glad to have company.

They paused in front of his dorm. “Will you come in?”

Pidge studied him carefully. Lance didn’t think she could see much in the dark of the hallway, but the truth was that she’d already caught him in a breakdown, there was nothing else to hide.

“Do you want to be alone?” she finally vocalized her concern. Lance shook his head, feeling his chest constrict at the possibility that she might leave. “Then I’ll come in.”

He went straight to his bed and laid down. Pidge stood at the entrance, letting the door slide closed behind her. The awkwardness was palpable and Lance couldn’t blame her for it; Pidge was not the best at social cues.

“At least sit down with me. I promise I won’t start bawling again.” He didn’t mean to sound depreciative, but his self-consciousness must have shown, because Pidge narrowed her eyes at him.

“I don’t care if you cry, you doofus.” She marched up to the bed and sat down near the headboard. “Put your head in my lap.”

Her demanding tone didn’t fit in with the gentleness of her actions. Lance was amused by the incongruity. Pidge was rough around the edges and her earlier show off affection now made her bristle, almost as if she was afraid to reveal too much to him. Lance could understand the urge to put up a front, but he was too exhausted to be embarrassed.

He rolled on his side, fitting his shoulder under her thigh.

“My mom used to do this when I was upset.” Pidge ran a hand through his hair, pulling lightly at the knots until they were undone. “The rhythm of it always soothed me. That and her, really. Mom had – I mean, she has a calming influence.”

Lance didn’t comment on her slip up. The feeling of nails scraping against his scalp was pleasing. The personal closeness was something that they also did in his family and he had missed it. He was a naturally affectionate person and the team didn’t seem to appreciate his expansiveness all that much.

“I used to do this for Veronica and Rachel,” he breathed out. “Ronie is older and she would force me to braid their hair when I was younger. I complained about it non-stop, but now I miss it.”

Pidge traced his hairline, then down to his ear, neck, collarbone. She seemed absent-minded as she did it, mind caught somewhere else.

“Matt was the one who would call me Pidge. I used to hate that nickname. After he disappeared, it seemed only right to assume it as my new name. For him.”

Lance shifted a little, so that he could look up at her. “Your real name isn’t Pidge?”

This made her stop for a moment and look down at him in exasperation. Lance suppressed the urge to laugh, but his lips still twisted into a smile, despite his effort.

Pidge flicked him on the forehead.

“I thought you were being serious!” It was funny to see her like this. Pidge usually responded to him with either blankness or sarcasm, so it was satisfying to garner an actual reaction.

“I could have been!” Lance brought a hand up to rub his stinging forehead. “You do realize you never told Hunk and I your real name?”

“It’s Katie,” she said without preamble. The only sign of her unease was that, when Lance tried to sneak another look at her face, Pidge’s fingers held his head in place, before resuming movement in his hair.

“It’s nice to meet you, Katie.” He let out a soft snicker, which Pidge mirrored.

“Nice to meet you, Lance.”

Lance fell silent, letting her touch lull him into a torpor. The point of contact gave him something to concentrate outside of his thoughts of Earth, until the sensation and Pidge were all he could focus on.

“Did you fall asleep?” she asked after some time.

“No.” Lance slowly rose up from her lap. “I don’t know if I will be able to sleep tonight.”

Pidge frowned, looking down at her hands as Lance repositioned himself to sit at her side.

“You and I are more similar than I ever thought, I guess.”

“What, you also go crying around the castle at strange hours, hoping no one else will see?” She raised a brow at him in response. It wasn’t that much of a surprise, really. Lance had known how broken up she felt about her father and brother’s disappearance. “We will find them, Pidge. I won’t rest until we do.”

The emotion in her eyes shifted. He couldn’t really tell what Pidge was feeling, but the look on her face was both sad and warm, grateful even. Lance tried to think of a time when he or any of the others had tried to support her in her search. There might have been something said when she’d first revealed her identity, but nothing stood out since.

His chest tightened with the realization.

It was possible that Hunk or Allura had spoken to Pidge privately about it, and Lance would put good money on the odds that Shiro had comforted her more than once, but that was it. Keith was quiet and broody, too dedicated to their mission to consider what the rest of the team went through. And Lance…

Lance had been too self-involved to notice. He had wallowed in his own misfortune and it had blinded him to the fact that at least his family was safe in Cuba. Pidge’s father and brother were lost in the middle of an intergalactic war, taken prisoners. Her mother thought she was missing.

He didn’t feel like he deserved Pidge’s gratitude.

“Can you tell me something funny?” she asked out of the blue. “I don’t think talking about our families is gonna help either of us sleep tonight.”

Lance let out a shaky exhale. “You’re right. I’m all cried out.” He poked at the skin under his eyes. It felt sensitive and swollen. “All that investigating for good eye masks and the work was all for nothing!” He put his palm over his eyes, playfully turning his head to the side. “Don’t look at me! I’m a shadow of my former self!”

“You’re the resident beauty guru, I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” Pidge rolled her eyes at his theatrics. She pulled Lance’s hand away from his face. “And you owe me a story.”

“Hey, how do I owe you anything?” He pouted at her. “I just saved you from getting a crick on your neck!”

She pulled more harshly at his hand, making Lance yelp. “You woke me up and I even gave you a head massage!”

It was his turn to tug at her arm, but his smile betrayed that Lance was having fun. “Fine, but then we’re even!”

Pidge finally let go of him, looking smug. He closed his hand and pointed at her face in an act of mock aggravation.

“Is it okay if I lie down?” She looked around the room, as if searching for a hidden futon where she could stretch out.

“Sure, let me just…” He scooted down and to the side. Pidge maneuvered into the space he had created, stuck between him and the wall. “I don’t think these beds were made to be shared.” He laughed.

The position wasn’t the worst they could be in. Pidge was small enough that, with her back pressed to the wall, Lance had enough space in the mattress that he wouldn’t fall over.

“This feels like a sleepover.” Her face scrunched up at the words. He couldn’t tell if she was embarrassed or just amused by the idea. “I never had one of those before.”

“Never?” he marveled.

“No need to look that surprised,” Pidge huffed. “I just didn’t have a lot of friends growing up. Not anyone close, at least.”

“Just Matt,” Lance blurted out without thinking. A shadow crossed Pidge’s eyes, but she didn’t seem upset.

“Yeah… You would like him. Matt can be as much of a goofball as you are.” She nuzzled quietly into the pillow. The lights had dimmed automatically when they laid down, so Lance couldn’t tell if Pidge was blushing or not. “It helps, you know? Having you here.”

Pidge refused to catch his eyes as she said this, which Lance understood. Being vulnerable could be scary, even when around your best friends. Still, he felt pride well up in him, glad that he had done something right towards her.

“You wanted a funny story, right?” he asked softly, the words only loud enough to be heard. Pidge’s gaze snapped to his, obviously relieved. “How about this: My first love was this little girl I met when I was fourteen. I never even knew her name.”

“That’s not funny, not really.” Pidge’s brows took a quizzical air. “How do you know it was love, then?”

“I just know. When I think about her, about that day… It felt like fate.” He saw the cynicism on her face before Pidge could even say anything. “I swear! I met her and everything changed. I don’t know if I would have met Hunk or got into the Garrison or even made it here without her.”

Pidge sighed against the pillow. “Honestly, that sounds like a lot of pressure to put on a first love.”

Lance watched as she drew patterns into the sheets between them. She wasn’t trying to be mean, he could tell.

“She doesn’t know, obviously. I didn’t even like her straight away. It’s just –” he paused, thinking it through. “It’s just funny, how much of a difference one person can make. When she talked to me, I was feeling sorry for myself. She cheered me up.”

That same day, he had met Hunk, who had later confessed that he’d only approached Lance because he’d appeared to be in a good humor. Without Hunk, his best friend, Lance might not have tried out for the Garrison. And, without the Garrison, he wouldn’t have been in Arizona to find the Blue Lion.

“Is she why you are so obsessed with fate and such?” Pidge teased. She was yawning every few seconds, but there was a smile on her face.

“You shouldn’t knock fate down.” Lance grinned, trying to bat her hand away from the sheets. They had bunched up a bit due to her movements. “It got us into space and closer to your family.”

Pidge made a face at him, then shrugged. They’d had this conversation before, about what had led the three out into Garrison grounds that night. Pidge argued that it was bound to happen, with how often she went out to search the radio frequencies, but even that fell back into Lance’s claim that they were all destined to become the new paladins of Voltron.

“I just think that love is about commitment,” she murmured, eyes already closed. “It’s about choosing one person and then falling in love with him, even when he’s obnoxious, even when he’s…” She trailed off, having fallen asleep.

Lance chuckled at her little speech. It was nice to think that someone would eventually choose to love him, forever. He felt comforted not only by the idea, but by Pidge's slow breathing, the heat of her hand so close to his chest. His own lids felt heavier and heavier. Lance closed his eyes.

#plance #pidgance #flirtyrobot #cyance #lidge #voltron #voltron legendary defender #vld #vld lance #pidge gunderson #katie holt #lance mcclain #vld fanfiction #vld syl verse

24 notes · View notes

dapandapod · 4 years

Text

A soft plucking of heartstrings

So here I am, 2.30 in the morning, just finished a promptchallange from the fantastic @sleepingreader! It may have gotten a little longer and a little softer than I intended, but please enjoy! Here it is on Ao3!

Also, here is my challangers writings and I can’t tell you enough how amazing i find it!

Soft plucking of strings. Spots of candlelight give the tavern a soft and homey feel. The patrons sit with rapt attention listening to the bard on stage with the cornflower blue eyes.

His eyes are closed, his voice dancing with the notes from the lute, weaving a tale of longing, heartache and lust. Every eye is fixed on him where he sits on the stage, no one can miss the raw emotion making itself known through music. Jaskier is lost. Lost deeply in his memories, in his feelings, in the words falling from his tongue and the soft vibration of the instrument in his arms. He loves this song, but it leaves a bittersweet taste. Especially when Geralt is around, as he is tonight, knowing what the price was. Everything is alright now, but the memory is still there. The pain, that hollow space carved out still makes itself known every now and then. The last tones ring out and Jaskier takes a breath before he opens his eyes and lets them roam over his audience. As soon as his eyes are on them they break into applause, almost as if they were waiting for him to return. He makes a sweeping bow and leaves the stage to sit down with his witcher. His witcher, yes. Geralt came to him after the disaster of a dragonhunt. It took them awhile to find their way with each other again and if Jaskier is perfectly honest he prefers what they have now. It’s fragile and honest and something entirely new for his whitehaired friend. Their friendship has blossomed into actual friendship now, not the push and pull of wills they had before. Now they see each other, and listen like they didn’t do before.

As soon as Jaskier sits down he gets showered in coins and ale. The patrons share their coins and their stories with him, what his song reminds them of, their own heartache, longing and lust. Geralt says nothing, just sips the ale pushed into his hand. The night is young and he is asked to sing another set, so he does. And when they finally retire for the night Jaskier finds his coin purse heavier than it’s been for a long, long time. He counts them out in their shared room, Geralt claiming the bed closer to the door and undresses. It’s entirely unfair of him to expect Jaskier not to sneak a peek as he takes off his shirt. Jaskier absolutely sneaks a peek, because expecting anything else of him would be plain stupid. And of course Geralt notices him staring. “What?” He asks over his shoulder and yup, time to kickstart the brain. “I have decided we stay another night.” Jaskier says, gathering the coins and putting them in the leather purse. “Why would we do that?” Geralt asks as he unlaces his trousers and yes, that's just unfair all over again to expect Jaskier to be able to hold a conversation with this view in front of him. Geralt pulls them down and Jaskier has to look away because Jaskier is many things but he is not cruel to himself. There is only so much he can take. Jaskier is also very good at lying to himself so he watches from the reflection of the small window instead. “Because today I have earned us more than we have gotten in months and it is time I give myself a- uh. Give us a treat. In the morn we shall go shopping!” Geralt snorts and lays down on the mattress. Jaskier swiftly undresses too, but takes a long time to fall asleep. He is mapping out all the stands he wants to visit and the sweets he wants to taste. And wants Geralt to taste! And with that image floating through his mind his eyes close and he drifts off.

When morning comes, Jaskier is almost bouncing with enthusiasm. It’s been a while since he dared spend coin as he will today and still expect to have some left for later. Geralt is slow out the door so he impatiently grabs him by the wrist and drags him along. If he had looked back at the witcher he would see a small smile curve and his finger flex, but he does not look and so it remains a secret. The first stall they visit has, surprise, knives. Geralt stops and admires the handiwork as Jaskier studies the rings next to them. The silver work is expertly done, but not what they had in mind. So Jaskier draws him to the next stand. And the next. They find a woman selling plums, the first of the season. She recognizes him from the tavern, and when they buy a handful of her plums she puts in two apples for them as well. Jaskier gives her the brightest smile and a squeeze of her hand. They find a stall with hair jewelry. Small beads to put into braids, hairclasps, ribbons and leatherstrips worked with fine details. Jaskier sends Geralt to find… something, anything that makes him go away as Jaskier buys two small beads of carved bone with intricate patterns and one of those worked leather straps. He adds a silver comb adorned with swallows for Ciri and folds it all into a piece of cloth. When Geralt returns he already stands two stalls over, a thick man with a thin mustache selling strings and flutes and for some reason, hats made of straw. They didn’t mean to, but a young girl on the street next to a barber shop grabs ahold of them as they pass. “Good sirs, are you not weary from your travels? If you follow me inside my father can offer the best trim of beard and hair this side of the river!” Geralt gives Jaskier a one-over and firmly nods. The bard needs some taking care of, he seems to decide, and they both walk out of there an hour later with hair newly washed and oiled up. Jaskier will never say it out loud, but he longs for the stubble to return to his witcher's face. The girl sees them outside and gives them a satisfied smirk. “Did I not say so, good sirs, that he is the best?” They nod their agreement and hand her one of the apples they were given. When they make it back out to the market Geralt stops by a big stand with tacks and blankets and brushes and many other things Jaskier is not very familiar with, but feels like they are meant for horses. Geralt picks out new reins from soft leather and grease to keep them smooth. He finds a big brush with long strands that looks the perfect amount of firm and soft, if Jaskier is any judge at all. And new saddlebags and, of course, a big bag of treats. Geralt opens his own money pouch to pay but Jaskier smacks his hands away and enjoys the feeling of giving. He likes that feeling, and all the gods know Geralt has seen too little of that in his life. “Jaskier, this is going to sound odd.” Geralt says after a good 30 minutes of ogling at a blacksmith stall. “But can I have the leather pouch for a moment, and can you go look at the bookstore?” Jaskier can only give a crooked smile and oblige, small butterflies making pirouettes in his stomach. And after a while Geralt comes to him, carrying a long wooden casing. Jaskier squints at him suspiciously, but Geralt simply can’t play fair and the smile he shoots him makes Jaskier lose his nerve and look away. It is a frightening thing, looking at someone you treasure so much without a hope of ever being treasured the same way back. To see them smile towards you as if they actually might. Jaskier buys a new notebook, Geralt a pair of new leather gloves. They buy a few jars of cherries and other sweets, and by then the sun is hanging low on the sky. The money pouch is very much lighter but not empty, just as he planned. Geralt walks them out on the fields, past farmers and cows and a cat on a fence, blinking at them with big eyes. Jasker simply cannot walk past the cat, her big eyes and pink nose and tail that is curling, even though cats' tails normally don’t curl. He bends down to pat her, and Geralt stays back. “Oh no, you big oaf, you come here right now and pet this cat.” Jaskier demands of him, but Geralt stays. “Cats don’t like me.” He mutters, and looks away when the cat leans against Jaskier’s legs, purring loudly. The bard reaches for his friend, grabbing his wrist and pulling him closer. “This one doesn’t mind, do you my girl?” Jaskier croons at the cat, and she blinks up at him and then at Geralt. She doesn’t hiss, she doesn’t bite, she just purrs and waits. “I uh.. I never touched a cat before.” Geralt admits, at loss at what to do. So Jaskier drags him over and places his hand over his. Together they stroke the cat on the back. Geralt's skin is rough and warm under Jaskiers fingers, and the uncertainty radiates from his friend in waves. Jaskier is only a man, and he is a man with a day filled with treats, so he allows himself another one. With his thumb he strokes Geralt's hand before he releases it and sits back a little. He looks at the cat and then back to this big man, this witcher, this old grumpy lump of muscles he calls his friend and his… everything. He studies the way Geralt's mouth is slightly open in awe, and how the cat blinks at him and how he instinctively blinks back. How his finger lingers on the soft fur, how carefully he scratches behind her ear and under her chin. And then the cat wanders off, leaving them there to look after her. They look at her go, and then they keep walking to where Geralt was leading them.

As it turns out, Geralt was aiming for the riverside. They sit down a bit away from the water's edge by a big tree. The grass is tall and tickles his ankles where his trousers ride up. They sit close together and their shoulders bump every now and then. They listen to the water and to the birds as the day slowly settles into night around them. And then Geralt picks up the wooden casing and puts it in Jaskier’s lap. “I know it’s your money but I saw you looking at it and…” Geralt opens the casing and inside lies a beautiful rapier, inlaid with dandelions along the hilt and the handguard. Jaskiers mouth opens and closes and he reaches out a hand to softly touch the cool metal. “Geralt.” He breathes. “Geralt.” He looks up, looks down, his eyes stinging a little. “You shouldn’t have” He says when words finally return to him. He did admire it when they stood there, and he did miss the weight of a rapier in his hand at times while on the path. “In a way, I didn’t. You did. And I wanted you to have it and you have spent so much on me today so it was time you spent some on yourself.” Geralt says to him, and Jaskier can’t remember the last time his friend used so many words and for the simple reason to… to what, really? He looks up at Geralt, mouth working to find the right words but he can’t. “Thank you.” The smile Geralt gives him could buy the moon. It's soft and warm and only for him. And Geralt picks up one of the jars of sweets and opens it. He picks up a small cherry and holds it to Jaskier’s mouth. Jaskier looks at it, and then into Geralt's eyes. He is watching intently and this doesn’t feel like something friends do anymore. But he opens his mouth and takes the cherry, Geralt's fingers brushing against his lips. A small tingling sensation rushes through him, and down his spine and out to his toes. They are still looking at each other, eyes locked, all smiles gone. And as the sun slowly sets, Jaskier leans forward, leans into Geralt's space. Their noses touch when the last rays of sunshine filter through the treetops. Their breaths mingle, eyes fluttering shut and then they share a soft kiss. Barely a brushing of lips. Jaskier leans over the wooden box, pusing it down on the grass to get onto his knees. Geralt's hand curve around his neck and the tingling explodes to fireworks under his skin. They press their lips together again, a taste of sweet cherries and sunshine and birdsong. They kiss again and again. Jaskier will treat himself more often in the future, he thinks as Geralt's arms snake around him to hold him close. Kisses that taste like cherry and pearls to braid into witcher's hair and apples and plums and sunshine. And when the morning comes he makes sure to give Roach a treat too. And when they make their way out on the path again, that pain, that hollow inside him is filled with feelings and hopes he never allowed himself before. As a treat.

68 notes · View notes

galadrieljones · 4 years

Text

As You Were (Chapter 2)

Fandom: The Last of Us | Pairing: Joel x OC | Content: Fix-it | Rating: Mature

Masterpost

When Joel and Ellie take a wrong turn on their journey from Pittsburgh to Wyoming, they find themselves lost in a beautiful place with a dark and dangerous secret. While there, they meet a mother and son who, after a recent, tragic event on their family farm, are fighting tirelessly for survival. In an effort to find hope for the future, the two groups set out west together, growing closer over time, making choices and altering paths that will change the course of their lives forever.

This is an AU, starting after the events of the Summer chapter in the first game, and extending into the timeline of the second. Joel lives.

"If, somehow, the lord gave me a second chance at that moment, I would do it all over again." -Joel

Chapter 2: The Farmhouse

"If, somehow, the lord gave me a second chance at that moment, I would do it all over again."

“Shit, Joel. I think we need to go back," said Ellie. She was in the front seat. She was holding a road map, staring out the rear window. She had sunburn on her cheeks, and it made her freckles real prominent. “The I-90 is back south.”

“Ain’t no way we are north of the I-90.”

“I'm only reporting what the map says.”

“It was hours ago we crossed into Wisconsin. Do you know how goddam far north we’d have to be if we are north of the I-90?”

“Doesn’t it just go in a straight line?”

“Give me that.” Joel swiped the map, which made her huff. They were going about 45 on a state highway. It was feral farm fields flying by on all sides, crawling with weeds and wildflowers, lifting up and down an uneven terrain, seeming to grow on a kind of staircase. Joel knew this method. It was called terrace farming. He had thought Wisconsin was flatter. He’d never been, but this was all hills and limestone outcroppings that rose high into the air. He was concerned about falling rocks. It almost felt like they were driving through some sort of canyons. Whenever they crested a hill, they would see what looked to be old Lutheran churches, just a ton of them, white and rundown, with big, square barn quilts painted on the siding, or on the steeples. In some places, the corn still grew, and in others, the valleys dipped low enough that water completely flooded the area. There were so many rivers, little tributaries that ran right through the broken down towns. A lot of the side roads, too, had been consumed with water, or an overgrowth of trees, or piled up with automobiles, conspicuously, as if guiding them to, or away from something. He looked at the map, and then he looked at Ellie. “You were holding it upside down.”

“Oops.”

He sighed dramatically, stopped the car, and let it idle. He held the map open between them, dropped his finger to a spot he thought she might recognize. “See this here?” he said.

“Sure. That’s Madison.”

“Madison is the capital of Wisconsin. You know the state capitals? They teach you that in the QZ?”

“Yes, I know the state capitals,” said Ellie.

“Good. Well. I think we turned onto State Highway 18 just south of Madison, right here.”

“Well, we’re not on Highway 18 anymore, right?”

“We’re on Highway 61,” said Joel. He had a mosquito bite on the back of his neck, kept itching him. Truth be told as well, it had been some time since he had meaningfully studied a full blown road map. They had picked it up just north of the border in a dusty clicker town called Beloit. He scratched the mosquito bite. “We have gotten way too far the hell west. Or, maybe it’s east. Goddammit.”

“Didn’t we cross a big river like 20 minutes ago?” said Ellie. “Could be this. The Wisconsin River.” She said it in a venerable and British manner, as if she were narrating a nature documentary.

“Possibly,” said Joel, but then he knew it was. She was right. “I do remember a sign for a place called Boscobel.”

“Sweet,” said Ellie. “So, all we have to do is just keep going north.” She traced her finger along Highway 61, “and then we’ll get to I-90. We should be able to find something there, right? For gas?”

“There’ll be gas,” said Joel, “but that’s another 30 miles. We ain’t gonna make it.”

“Well, fuck,” said Ellie. She looked out the window. Joel put the car back in drive and kept going. “Maybe there’s like a scrapyard or something? We’ve seen a lot of old, shitty cars. Maybe there’s people around here.”

“Even if there are,” said Joel, “I ain’t certain whether they’re the kinds of people with whom we ought to…consort.”

“You mean like cannibals?”

“I didn’t say that,” said Joel, giving her a look. “Jesus. Where the hell’d you learn about cannibals?”

“The Donner Party,” said Ellie. “History class.”

Joel looked at her, and she was looking out the window. She had found a pen back in Beloit and doodled a large milk cow on her left forearm. He said, “I don’t know, Ellie. I don’t wanna take no chances. Not after last time.”

“Same here,” said Ellie. “But we have to do something.”

“I know,” said Joel. “I know, just—give me a minute.”

Don't go back. A little wind came through the window. She had fallen asleep to the wind chimes, like music on the Mississippi. Nobody was coming though. Nobody coming, they said. She heard him loud and clear: Don’t go back.

“Mom. Mom?” It was the same voice. “Are you awake? Cici. Wake up the hell up. Over.”

She roused. She sat up quickly, as if the lord had appeared. Hair was in her face. Her head felt thick, like it was made of metal or something and she rubbed her temples immediately, looked up at the ceiling. It boasted an old, familiar crack, had been there since childhood. She picked up the walkie off the nightstand. She shook her head out, squeezed her eyes shut. She said, “I’m sorry. I’m up. Noah? Over.”

“I said, we got visitors. Over.”

“What kind of visitors? Over.”

“Don’t know,” said Noah. “A man, and his daughter. In a Tacoma. Over.”

“A daughter?” she said, looking around. Her shotgun was leaning against the bed post. “Noah,” she said. “Do they look friendly? Over.” There was some sort of pause, the walkie crackled. She heard the sounds of car doors amidst the static and froze up. “Noah.”

“They look friendly,” he said then. “I’ll check it out. Over.”

“Be careful.”

“Wait ten minutes, then come down to the battlement.”

Over.

Noah had been in the crow’s nest reading a book called The Road. He had found the book at one of the college libraries over in Richland Center, he liked it and had now read it a couple times, always in the crow’s nest. The Road was about a man and his son walking around in a dark and hopeless post-apocalyptic setting, trying to escape roving gangs of cannibals. The man had an awful cough, and he knew he was going to die. It was his only goal to teach his son the ways of survival so that he may continue to “carry the torch” after his father’s death.

Noah was tall and big across the shoulders. His eighteenth birthday was soon. From the crow’s nest, you could observe a lot of the immediate property, which he and his mother had booby-trapped with proximity mines and IEDs. His grandpa had been a Naval engineer, and his uncle had been in Iraq in 2004. All of them grain farmers. His mother was good with improvised demolition and she had taught him all he knew. Their land as they had established it that year was about six acres of riverfront with crops, an aging well, and a watering hole.

When the Tacoma pulled up the gravel drive it crested slowly to the top of the hill where Noah watched. It idled before the gate so Noah could see inside—a man and a young girl. He radioed his mom and then climbed down to the battlement, ten feet above ground, built to oversee the barbed-wire gate, which would open to their pasture and their lawn, their house. He popped the bolt in his rifle and pointed the barrel straight at the man, watching him through a scope. The man and the girl had got out of the car. They looked a little worn out but their clothes were normal, and they were not aggressive nor holding heat. They held their hands up in surrender. He supposed it could have been a con. But it just didn’t look like one. Not with a girl.

Noah didn’t say anything. He had caught the man’s attention, gazing at him through the scope, the crosshairs planted straight between his eyes. He was going to let the man speak first.

“We ain’t armed,” said the man, keeping eye contact. “We don’t mean you no harm.”

“What’s your name,” said Noah.

“Joel,” said the man. “My name is Joel. This here is Ellie.”

Noah kept the rifle aimed, but he glanced at the girl over the top of the scope. “This your father.”

“No,” said the girl. “I mean, no. We’re just friends.”

“Friends?”

“We got stuck together,” said Ellie. “We’re both trying to get out west.”

“Where are your parents?”

“I have no idea,” said Ellie. “Probably dead. Where are yours?”

Noah lowered the rifle. He trusted her. He didn’t know why. “My mom is back at the house,” he said. “My dad is dead.”

“I’m sorry,” said Ellie. “That blows.”

For a moment they all just stood there, listening to the cicadas. Then Noah threw the gun over his shoulder and took a deep breath. He climbed down from the battlement. He unlatched the gate and threw it open from the inside. It was tall and heavy, made of scrap metal, treated wood, and wire. He approached them with caution. They kept their hands visible. He looked at Ellie. “Is this guy chill?”

“Not really,” said Ellie. “But he’s not gonna try and kill you, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Jesus,” said Joel.

“Just trying to be cooperative,” said Ellie.

Noah had the rifle resting on his shoulder. He was smiling at her. It was a hot day, mid-September. “Where you coming from,” he said to Joel.

“Back east.”

“Where.”

“Boston,” said Joel.

“Why do you got that cowboy accent if you’re from Boston.”

Joel gave him a wary look. “What the hell do you know about cowboys, son?”

“We got a TV and a VCR and a generator,” said Noah. “I like John Wayne.”

“Nice,” said Ellie.

“I’m from Texas originally,” said Joel. “Moved up to Boston a long time ago.”

Noah nodded. “Makes sense.”

“So it’s just you and your mom here?” said Ellie. “You guys got crops?”

“Yes,” said Noah.

“Any horses?”

“A few. Do you know how to ride?”

“Hell yeah,” said Ellie.

She seemed nice, thought Noah. He said to Joel, “So what brings you this far north?”

“We got lost,” said Ellie.

“No, we didn’t,” said Joel.

“We didn’t?”

“We got held up outside Chicago,” said Joel. “And I was trying to avoid the Quad Cities. Heard bad things about those parts.”

“Yeah,” said Noah. “We heard, too.”

“Couldn’t go nowhere but north,” said Joel. “It’s a lot of open country once you get off the highway. Trees and hills and a lot of the roads are flooded.”

“We got lost,” said Ellie.

Joel sighed. “How north are we? I mean, I know we ain’t as far as the I-90, but I don’t know where exactly we are.”

“You’re right outside Viroqua,” said Noah. “Vernon County.”

“Which means what?”

“Western Wisconsin,” said Noah. “Between Madison and Minneapolis.”

Joel sighed. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Closer to Madison, if it makes a difference.”

“Not really,” said Joel.

“What’s your name?” said Ellie.

Somewhere nearby there was the sound of a woodpecker. “Noah,” he said. “My mom’s name is Cynthia, but she goes by Cici. She’ll be here soon.”

“I am very sorry for our intrusion,” said Joel. “We didn’t mean to scare you. We saw a path, looked like it might lead to a scrapyard or something. We had no idea anybody would be living out here.”

“You looking for scrap?”

“No,” said Joel. “Just fuel.”

“Well, we got fuel,” said Noah, scratching at some of the raw scruff on his neck. “Not much we can spare though.”

“I’ll take whatever you can give.”

“There’s an Amish scrapyard, maybe ten miles out,” said Noah. “It’s got forty or fifty old school busses, a couple big-rigs, too. They don’t run, but nearly all of them got fuel.”

“The Amish are selling school busses?”

“I guess they used to just collect whatever they could find,” said Noah.

“Jesus,” said Joel. “Any of them still around?”

“Some,” said Noah.

“Noah,” said a woman. It was Cici, his mother. She was small, her light hair tied off her face, wearing a blue tee-shirt that was obviously too big. She was jogging toward them from up the way with a shotgun in her hands. “Noah. What’s going on.”

“It’s okay,” said Noah.

She stopped, regarded Joel and Ellie, said nothing.

“You Cici?” said Joel.

“Yes. Who’s asking?” she said.

“This is Joel,” said Noah. “And Ellie. They got lost leaving Chicago. They’re needing fuel.”

“Chicago is a long way from here,” she said. “You must have gotten really lost.”

“We did not get lost,” said Joel.

Ellie rolled her eyes.

“Whatever,” said Cici. She seemed kind of tough and direct, a little like Tess. She had a long, straight scar on her neck, looked bad. She wiped the sweat off her forehead and looked at Ellie. “You gonna rob me?”

“Hell no,” said Ellie. “Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know,” said Cici. “I don’t know why anybody would do that, but I have to ask.”

“We don’t mean you no harm,” said Joel. “I swear. Your boy here just told us about an Amish scrapyard ten miles away. We just need a little fuel to get us there, and for you to point us in the right direction, and we’ll be on our way.”

“Them Amish won’t trade with you,” she said. “They only trade with people they know.”

“Well, maybe you can help us,” said Ellie. “We can help each other.”

“Ellie,” said Joel.

“What?”

“Where you coming from?” said Cici.

“Boston," said Joel.

“You must be tired.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“We got beds,” she said. “Extra. Plenty of room. And food.”

“What’s your meaning.”

“You stay for a few days, let me put you to work—you look strong. Are you strong?”

“I reckon I ain’t weak,” said Joel.

“Good. You can help Noah out with some of the heavy-lifting. And Ellie, is it? You can help me out, too.”

“Okay, sure.”

“I’ll get you your fuel,” said Cici to Joel, like she’d been making deals this way her whole life. “It’s like she said. You help us, we help you.”

Joel hesitated, glanced to Ellie who shrugged. “What the hell else are we gonna do?” she said.

He sighed. He glanced to Cici who was holding out her hand. “You ain’t gonna…carve us up and eat us, are you?”

This made her smile. When she did, he could tell that she was younger than she had originally seemed. Pretty, kind of mild, exactly like he’d been lead on to believe about Midwestern girls in his youth. Plain-like, and simple. “You’re funny,” she said.

He cleared his throat and straightened up, an old habit.

“We got a deal?” she said.

He said, “Yeah, okay.”

“Lead the way,” said Ellie.

They went up the driveway, over a hill, and to the house. It was a plain white farmhouse, very old, but nicely kept. Noah took the keys and went and pulled around the truck through the gate and parked it on the lawn. Inside, there were the remnants of a real life. Joel knew they had always lived there, even before the outbreak. There were paintings on the walls, a lot of them, unframed, looked like somebody had made them—landscapes, and still lives, some scenes with sheep, a woman wearing a dress and holding a baby beneath an apple tree. They were all signed with a W. The kitchen was simple, and they had fruit and vegetables and meat and a gas stove that still worked. In the sitting room, there was a blue sofa and a red rocking chair, a lot of patchwork quilts, and a loom. There was a radio and a record player, the old TV, and the VCR, like Noah had said. They had electricity, but Joel could tell it was rationed. There were oil lamps in every corner of the room, and some Christmas lights strung up around the windows, colorful bunting, which brought the room to life with color. It was a pleasant place, and familiar, and warm, and when they entered, both him and Ellie felt safe.

“Holy shit,” said Ellie. “This is your house?”

“Yes,” said Cici. She hung the shotgun on a nail by the door. “It’s not much.”

“It’s awesome,” said Ellie. She took off her backpack, but then she seemed unsure of where to put it. Noah took it. She thanked him.

“The bedrooms are all upstairs,” he said.

“You all been living here a while?” said Joel, looking around. He cracked his knuckles.

“My mom grew up here,” said Noah.

Cici made no addition. She was already boiling water on the stove.

“Well, it’s real nice,” said Joel. “Thank you, ma’am. For your hospitality.”

She glanced at him, as if suspicious, but then she softened. She said, “You’re welcome.”

When they got upstairs, Noah showed them to the room all the way at the end of the hallway. It was big enough, with two windows, two twin beds, each with a little nightstand, and a lamp, and a wash bowl. There was a single bureau, and a standing mirror. There was no working bathroom indoors, said Noah, as the plumbing was shot. They used the outhouse. He also told them not to drink from the river, or to bathe in it, under any circumstances. Joel found this unusual, but he didn't press him on it, just went along with the rules.

Noah had been carrying Ellie’s backpack, set it down on one of the little beds. Joel set his backpack on the other.

“This okay?” said Noah.

“This’ll do just fine,” said Joel. He became a little awkward, but then he squared up with Noah and lowered his voice in seriousness. “Are you absolutely sure this is okay?” he said.

Noah just stared at him. He was forthright. He said, “Why are you asking?”

“You get a lot of travelers come through here?”

“No,” said Noah. “Not anymore. When my dad was alive, sometimes. But not anymore.”

“It’s just very unexpected,” said Joel. “How can you trust us?”

Noah looked at Ellie, who had switched open her knife and was studying the tip. It was just a habit. She flipped it shut and tucked it back into her pocket the moment she realized he was watching. “Sorry,” she said. “What?”

“Nothing,” said Joel.

“He wants to know how we know we can trust you.”

“Well,” said Ellie. “How do you know?”

Noah shrugged. He didn’t seem to have a clean answer. “We’ve gotten reavers, coming through here, on more than one occasion,” he said. “They bring numbers. They bring guns. They don’t make it past the minefield on the perimeter, and if they do, they get shot. Not a one of them has ever simply driven up to the front gate, exited their car, and apologized for being a burden. Not one of them has ever been a girl either.”

“What the hell are reavers?” said Ellie.

“Hunters,” said Joel, looking at her. “That’s what he means. We call them hunters, back east.”

“Whatever you want to call them,” said Noah. “Anyway, you don’t have to worry about us, okay? I appreciate the concern. But this ain’t our first rodeo.”

“Sounds good,” said Joel. “I just—I was thinking about you and your mom, out here, all alone.”

“We’re not alone,” said Noah, point blank. “There are others, in the area. You just don’t see them. Like I said, you don’t have to worry.”

Joel turned subdued, looked down at his knuckles, which were still bruised from Pittsburgh. “I see. Well, I had to make sure.”

“My mom’s gonna cook dinner,” he said. “It’ll be ready in like an hour. I got some more shit to do out front.”

“We’ll see you then,” said Ellie.

“Cool,” said Noah. He nodded at Joel. “We good?”

“We’re good,” said Joel.

“Good.” He sort of half-smiled, then he was gone.

Ellie flopped onto the bed immediately. She closed her eyes and said, “Holy shit, Joel. We really lucked out, huh?”

Joel was still palming his knuckles, staring at the closed door, thinking about the boy. He didn’t feel in danger. He just thought, something bad had happened here. He could feel it. Could sense it. The situation was complex. He took a deep breath. He said to her, “I think you might be right.”

“You think they’re cannibals?”

“Probably not,” said Joel. He sat down on the other bed. It creaked beneath his weight. He thought to take off his shoes, but perhaps that was too forward. “Guess we’ll find out soon.”

“I like this place,” said Ellie, staring up at the ceiling. She was wide-eyed. She was filled with wonder. “It’s pure, you know? I’ve never been in a place like this before.”

“You mean like a farm?”

“Yeah,” she said. “A farmhouse. It’s just so…nice.” She switched her blade open again, then closed it. Flipped it open again, closed it. “Is this what it was like back in Texas?” she said. “Before the Outbreak?”

He looked at her, realizing he hadn’t ever really told her about Texas. Nothing specific, at least. “It was a little like this, yes,” he said.

“Man,” said Ellie. “I could live here.” She closed her eyes, smiled. In about a minute, she was asleep.

Cici was salting a pan of lamb shanks in the kitchen. That man, she could hear the weight of his boots upstairs. As she pressed the salt into the meat with her fingers, she looked at the red and knew she should not have been so trusting. It was almost 7:30, and the sun was only just now starting to set. Whenever it did, it shone bright through the westerly window, over the living room, blinding her for several minutes before hiding behind the trees. Noah came downstairs. He hung up his rifle on a hook next to the front door. He came into the kitchen and leaned against the counter, across from her. He was dirty from the events of the day. He’d had to redig the trench on the eastern part of the perimeter. A couple runners had wandered in and tripped the mines there, upping the soil and taking down a tree.

“They good?” she said. She started a second burner, for the lamb. She stirred the rice.

“Yeah,” said Noah.

She looked at him and felt guilty. It was a common, stupid thing for her. He used to just go about his day, but now she was pretty sure that he could sense it. She looked back at the lamb. “Maybe we should’ve been more discerning with him.”

“He’s okay,” he said.

“He don’t seem off at all to you?”

“Not really,” said Noah. “He seems kind of hokey, if anything. Though I do think he’s seen and done some shit.”

“Why do you think that?”

“He’s scarred up.”

“You must be starving,” she said, wanting to change the subject. “I’m sorry about today. Them fucking runners showed up, and I don’t know where they’re coming from anymore.”

“Seems like there’s definitely more,” he said. He turned around to look out the window, the sun making its exit. “I don’t know what to say.”

“They must be coming from LaCrosse,” she said.

“At least,” he said. “If they’re runners, that means more are turning.”

She got very quiet from the inside out.

“I’m gonna ask him to come with me,” said Noah, "to LaCrosse.”

“You don’t know him, Noah.”

“We’ll give it a couple days,” he said. “Then we’ll see.”

It had just been a while since she’d really seen a man, that’s all. She had lost her bearings on the normal kind. “Go on and do the cameras for the night,” she said.

He slapped his palm lightly to the counter, to break the moment. “Okay.”

When he left, she watched him pick up the rifle and disappear out the door, looking like his father. Then she poured herself a glass of whiskey from a jug by the stove to drink as she cooked and waited. Upstairs, it was hushed quiet.

#the last of us #the last of us part 2 #tlou #tlou2 #joel tlou #ellie tlou #joel miller #ellie williams #as you were

15 notes · View notes

think-blot · 5 years

Text

Tired but Loved (Natasha Romanoff x Reader)

Request by @lucdarling: request for reader being sweet with Natasha in private but also exhausted because you've both been doing overtime for Fury's projects (set pre-Avengers)

Summary: Europe is the most romantic place to be when you’re with your loved one. Except when you’re a different person every night and the only time you can interact is when you’re fighting the bad guy of the month. It gets tiring very quickly.

Word Count: 1519

The countryside of France was nowhere near as romantic as the brochures had you believe. You sat at a rusty table with lukewarm coffee and the smell of cow shit in your nose with none of the offenders in sight. The only thing that made it worth it was when you leaned your head slightly to the left and, in the very corner of your eye, you were able to see a glimpse of red hair. "You keep doing that and our cover is gonna be blown," Nat whispered into her mic. You sighed, looking straight ahead into an empty field once more and went back to pretending you were a tourist admiring the scenery.

"Italy was better." You leave it at that, not able to risk long sentences as she could. It seemed a bit unfair that she was allowed to read a book while you had nothing but she was supposed to be a regular. Regulars read, tourists awe. There was a hum of agreement in your air and you found yourself smiling at the sky. The two of you had found a moment of peace in Italy, something rare ever since you stepped foot in Europe. Even though you were still on a mission, there was always a mission it seemed, you had to be a couple to find your target. She had worn a long, brown wig that skimmed the bottom of her back and a red dress that reminded you of her signature color. She spoke in another language the entire night, wrapped in your arms as the two of you moved across the dance floor and pretended to be enamored by only each other and not looking for Shield's most wanted. It was hard to know how she felt, what was fake and what was real, but you were sure that you weren't the only one who got a little lost as you danced the night away. It only took two weeks, another country, and a small hum for your suspicions to be proven right.

The small bubble that had surrounded the café you were at popped suddenly when a group of sleazy men walked in. You refrained from rolling your eyes at the sight of them. It was one thing to be a bad guy but it was almost worse to be such a stereotype and look the part. You sipped your drink calmly as you watched them approach Nat, pushing your protective side down and letting her handle the situation until she said the code word. "Do you speak English, mon ange?"

You roll your eyes then, his fake French accent leaving you no other choice. It was almost sad how easy these missions were and all because men seemed to think with what was in their pants instead of what was in their heads. Fury sent the two of you out because you were the perfect combo of beautiful and deadly so even if they didn't take the bait, which so far hadn't happened, you'd be able to get the job done. "Almost as good as you." She giggled, no doubt pushing her fake glasses up further to seem nervous.

The second sleazy man stepped closer, standing behind Natasha without her knowing and you felt your hackles rise. But you waited. The first man leaned forward, grabbing a strand of her hair and tugging slightly like a third-grader, "Come with me and maybe I'll show you a thing or two." You heard the whirr of a weapon behind you but both you and Natasha pretended you didn't. There was someone in Europe smuggling alien tech and the two of you had spent months jumping from country to country collecting the stolen weapons and getting closer to the main source. These two idiots were the last ones before the boss, you had to be careful.

"But, I'm still on chapter four." She pouted to the man above her though mischief glinted in her eyes. In the blink of an eye, you stood up with mug in hand and slammed it into the second guy's head. At the exact moment, Natasha had slammed the first guys head down onto the steel table and you understood that he was hers to deal with. Which meant you had to get the weapon. You ducked as he threw a punch, lunging for his other hand that he seemed to forget about in the heat of the moment. He wrapped around you the moment you were close, keeping you to his chest with an arm clamped around your neck. They were always so predictable. You brought your head forward, pushing back as hard as you could, effectively breaking his nose. He flinched, dropping the weapon into your waiting hand as he stepped back. As the cherry on top, you swept his feet from under him and held him under your foot, staring him down as the blood pooled from his face.

"I'd say that was pretty easy, love. How about you?" The first man made his way into your sight as she kicked him into the chair she once sat in.

"Walk in the park." She smirked. She leaned towards the man, much like he did minutes ago, and the confidence in both of them faded quickly. "Now, tell us where your boss is."

You pointed the weapon towards the man under you and watched him shiver in fear. You wouldn't use it, you needed them alive and well, but fear was the easiest way to get answers. "You heard the lady. Talk."

----

It took three months before you were allowed back to base. Someone had warned the smuggler and he had stopped all business, leading the two of you on a wild goose chase from Poland to Ukraine. You stepped off the Quinjet, pushing the smuggler roughly into some lower level's arms, and headed towards the exit. "Y/L/N, Fury requires a debrief of your mission!" The lower level, Mark might've been his name, yelled after you. You almost felt bad with how panic he sounded, not knowing what to do with a wanted criminal in his care and disobedient agents. He had to learn one way or another.

"Don't lose that asshole and that's all the debrief he'll need!" You responded, not even looking back to know that Nat was following right behind you. The two of you were tired, physically and of Fury's bullshit, and the only thing you wanted to do was go home and take a nap. Fury had other ideas.

Coulson stood in front of you, blocking the exit with nothing but his attitude, and you wanted to scream. It had been half a year of smelly hotel rooms and stupid men, you just wanted to make dinner for your girlfriend that wasn't frozen. "We need Romanoff."

"Like hell you do." You weren't one to talk back, you had always been the one to stay silent and glare when things weren't going your way. Even Nat was surprised, never seeing you so exhausted.

"Agent." Coulson's voice didn't waver but you knew that you were about to cross a line if you continued. No one called you Agent unless you were in deep shit. You couldn't find it in yourself to care.

"You have your big bad, that's all you need." You grabbed Nat's hand, a rare display of affection as if that would stop them from taking her. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we're heading home and she won't be available until next week." You walked past Coulson, not seeing the smirk shared between Nat and him as you did, and headed to wherever your car was.

"He's gonna be upset," Nat said after a while, not letting go of your hand as the two of you walked through the compound. It was almost funny how many people did double-takes to see if what they saw was real; the two most ruthless spies shield had, holding hands? Impossible.

"He can tell me all about it when the week is up." You smiled, kissing her temple as the two of you made it to your car.

"And what exactly do you have planned?" She leered, or at least tried to. It was a sweet sentiment and while any other time you would jump at the chance to be with her intimately, all you really wanted was to sleep forever while holding her in your arms. You leaned over the gearshift, kissing her gently as a promise, and when you pulled back the mask she kept on for too long was finally gone. In almost an instant, the bags beneath her eyes became more defined and her shoulders slumped as she looked at you with a soft smile. The two of you never needed words. "I'd like that." She whispered. She kissed you quickly and settled against the window where she would no doubt fall asleep on the way home. You smiled, beyond happy that you had her in every part of your life, and started the car. The two of you wouldn't be going to Europe again any time soon.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #Black Widow #black widow x reader #black widow x you #marvel #mcu

369 notes · View notes

annoyinglyjovialbird · 4 years

Text

Voltron: Next Generation

Impending Difficulties: I

Word Count: 2812

AN: Don’t hate me too much. XD

It had only been a few hours, but Kenny's brain couldn't seem to process anything but the encounter from before.

It had been years.

His grandfather never spoke about either of Kenny's siblings, never mentioned them, or even what had happened to them. During the launch of the failed mission, the one Kenny's parents never came back from, he found it weird that he didn't see his sister. His parents asked him about it but he could only shrug. He hadn't seen her in three years at that point. It was her birthday, but Kenny suspected they didn't know.

Every memory Kenny had stored away in his brain was being taken out and being sorted through again. Unfortunately, the reason for the resorting came up empty when Kenny couldn't find what he needed.

He couldn't remember his sister's face.

Allie, who had been wandering the ship and the only one awake, passed by the bridge. Seeing Kenny leaned over, she thought nothing of it. This was the fifth time she passed the bridge, and Kenny still hadn't moved. On the sixth pass, Allie had two large cups. One of them had a tea bag string over the rim, the other did not. Both drinks were steaming and brown, albeit two different shades.

With careful steps, Allie placed the cup with the teabag on the console desk in front of Kenny and walked away without another word. The pager on her belt made a sound, and Allie walked towards the observation room.

In Kenny's mind, a brightness came over his memories.

Laughter rang out in the juniberry fields on Uncle Lance's farm, chasing a dwarf around. Black hair in pigtails and a dress covered in red poppies. Tripping over something in the fields, Kenny landed face-first in the juniberries. Instead of complaining and standing up, he rolled over in the fields and stared at the never-ending blue sky. The dwarf he had been chasing toddled towards him with the biggest smile on her face. Letting a small giggle, she smacked her hand on Kenny's forehead. He laughed at the smack, staring at her face. It was blurry. He couldn't see anything past that big smile.

"Klance!" A delighted squeal came from her mouth and she once again toddled forward.

"Kenny, you okay?" Uncle Lance asked, bending over the fallen boy. His arms went to the little girl's waist and she was pulled higher and higher. Her squeals didn't seem to stop.

"Yeah, I'm okay." Kenny used a hand to shield himself from the glaring sun to stare at his uncle and the little girl. She had turned her head away from Kenny, staring at something behind them.

"Good." Lance readjusted the girl, who turned her focus to the man who had moved her from her perch on Lance's hip. "Ahora te paras o te paro!" In a flash, Kenny had stood, running towards Uncle Lance's house where the other farmhands (or cousins who needed something to do in the summer) were heading. Looking back at fields he'd left, Kenny saw the little girl had laid her head on Uncle Lance's shoulder, turning away again.

In another memory, Kenny was sitting at a dinner table. The book work in front of him was unreadable, but he was counting his lucky stars that he wouldn't be doing whatever his brother was doing at the head of the table. The boy at the head had dark hair, wearing a red jacket with a green stripe around the middle. In front of him was an array of wires and connectors with a light bulb and two switches. One of the papers in front of Kenny was the answer sheet to his brother's problem.

"Hey, Ky." The boy had looked up and said. Turning to a doorway that led to bedrooms, the little girl from before was rubbing her eyes. Her hair was a little longer but still styled in pigtails. Her jammies were a vibrant shade of seafoam, a gift from Uncle Lance. "Did we wake you up?" Without saying a word, the girl approached the boy, and he pulled her into his lap. She stared at the circuit board with bright, curious eyes. She noticed something off to the side and grabbed it. Attaching it to connectors in between the switches, she pointed at the switch to her right. Complying, the boy flipped the switch, and the light bulb lit. His face said it all. He had no idea what he was doing wrong.

"Ky, what did you do?" By this point, the girl had covered her addition with her hands to keep it out of view of the boy. When she went to point, Kenny saw what it was. With a flourish, she held her hands up and almost smacked the older boy in the face.

"You were missing a power source," Kenny said for the girl, who had let her arms fall to her side and looked up at the boy. He had started rubbing his head, staring at the battery. Kenny remembered he was taking a double course load, something no one had done without losing sleep or sanity.

"Kyla!" Kenny's mom came around the corner. Her brown hair was pulled into a ponytail and her eyes matched the girl. The green long-sleeved shirt and the oversized gray coat was a signature for her, along with the transition lenses over her eyes. "Leave your brothers alone!"

"Mom, stop." The boy sighed, leaning back in the chair. The little girl, Kyla, had bowed her head and her eyes became glassy.

"She's a kid! What can she do?"

"C'mon, Ky." Kenny stood, walking towards the now upset little girl. "Don't listen to Pidge, she's just upset," He said much quieter, lifting the little girl. Her arms wrapped around Kenny's neck and her head leaned into his shoulder. Taking her back to her room, Kenny pulled aside the dark gray comforter covered in white stars and the white sheet underneath covered in gray astronauts. The little girl hung on for dear life as she sat on the bed. Unwrapping her arms from his neck, Kenny looked into her eyes, which had dimmed. Reluctantly, she laid her head down on the pillows and fell asleep.

A hand on his shoulder startled the poor man. Returning to reality, his eyes took in the sight of the bridge. Following the hand on his shoulder, he met a pair of jarringly familiar brown eyes. Even if they weren't as bright nor as curious as they once were, they matched his mom's eyes.

"Kenny," Kova repeated, trying to get the young man's attention. He stared at her like she was the object he had been looking for his entire life. Pulling a tissue from the box Allie had brought by earlier, she patted Kenny's tear-stained cheeks.

"Will he be alright?" Allie asked, arms crossed. After checking on Keith, she had passed by a few more times. When she found Kenny crying, she left a tissue box and ran for Kova's room.

"Kenneth? You have to breathe." Kova said to the young man instead. He was taking shuddering breaths, just roaming over Kova's face.

"Kyla?" He whispered under his breath. Kova met his eyes with shock, then defensiveness, finally with acceptance. She didn't nod, nor did she shake her head.

"C'mon, Ken." Pulling on Kenny's hands, Kova stood. "Let's get you to bed." Kova walked Kenny to the door, with Allie following close behind with the box.

——————————————————

In the morning, Kova was determined to let the others know, with or without the Colonel's approval. Speaking of the Colonel, he had thought long and hard about Kova's words. Shiro knew Kova was serious. She didn't fight orders unless she deemed it necessary for a specific reason.

She fought patrol officers when they tried to restrain students to Garrison grounds.

She fought her commanding officer when Caleb and her groups teamed up for training purposes.

She even fought Curtis when he tried to stop the pair from taking little Cyrus to the McClain's farm when he and Shiro were on vacation.

In every event, Kova won the fight. She was smart, strong, and dealt with any consequences that would come.

Other students tried using Kova as a scapegoat and immediately realized why she had permission to leave Garrison grounds. They didn't appreciate the unpaid work on McClain's farm as much as Kova did.

The commanding officer purposely gave the teams the hardest jobs on school grounds to make the others leave. They stayed intact until the last quarter when Jazz transferred to a more traditional school setting and Allie became her replacement.

With the last one, while Kova had to be the one to bathe Cyrus after falling butt-first into a mound of freshly scooped cow droppings, she didn't complain.

Kova sat through breakfast without a word to anyone, eating from the small bag of assorted nuts and dried fruit she snuck onboard. Cake and Liz exchanged nervous looks, while Allie stared at Kenny nibbling on an Arusian fruit.

At least it wasn't whatever beverage the Arusians packed for them.

When finished, Kova stood and walked towards the bridge. Without saying a word, the others followed. They were in their respective seats while Kenny sat in his corner as they stared at the slowly changing sky.

Shiro walked into the bridge, descended the staircase, and went right up to the window. Kova stared at the back of his head, daring him to try to tell her no.

Turning around, his eyes met hers. A tense minute.

Cake nervously looked from Shiro to Kova and back again. Caleb was tense, ready to hold someone back. Liz followed this sentiment with her bayard in hand. Allie had a first aid kit under her console if a fight did break out. Kenny was lost, staring ahead.

Shiro broke the stare with a sigh. Looking up again, he said, "Tell them."

Opening a program on her console, Shiro walked forward so he wasn't covering the screen. On-screen, three folders appeared with different titles.

The first read 'ACHLYS MISSION'. The second read 'FIRE REVIVAL'. The third was simply 'KHKH'.

Typing away at her console, the first folder opened. Documents, pictures, and a video file fell into order on the screen. Clicking on a particular picture, Shiro looked away.

The ACHLYS was standing tall and proud, most notably intact. In front of it stood five people. From left to right, a woman with medium-length brown hair pulled into a braid. She had an arm around the waist of the man to her left, who was a full head taller than her with a scar on his right cheek and black hair tied into a ponytail. A gloved hand was on the shoulder of the Colonel, who had a hand tucked into his pants pocket. The man on the other side of the Colonel had tan skin and cropped brown hair. The last man also had cropped hair, black in color, and was much darker than the man next to him. Four of the five people in the picture wore matching orange, gray, and white suits. The men to the Colonel's left had helmets in their hands, while the ones to his right didn't.

"Pictured left to right: Katie Holt, Keith Kogane, Colonel Takashi Shirogane, Lance McClain, and Hunk Garrett." Liz read aloud, squinting to read the caption. Kova opened a document file and it appeared beside the picture. In big bold letters, the word 'CLASSIFIED' was stamped onto the page. The top read 'INCIDENT REPORT & DISAPPEARANCE OF ACHLYS CREW'.

"I was right." Cake turned in his seat to stare at Kova. "You did know what happened."

"We weren't supposed to say anything," Caleb replied instead.

"The ACHLYS was ambushed," Shiro said, staring at the picture. "According to evidence collected, the crew escaped in pods, but never made contact."

"What evidence?" Shiro stayed silent. "I thought we were learning everything, so why—"

"Lance was the only one of the four that returned to Earth. His pod was used to locate the others, but it was unsuccessful. It was too dangerous to continue."

"But we found Keith! He's alive, right?" Cake turned his attention to Liz and Allie. Both girls were staring at the small devices in their hands. Something of Liz's creation used to monitor Keith's monitor. If there was a too high spike, a too low valley, or a change in anything, it would alert them both.

Keith had been unresponsive and stable since he had been brought on.

"My dad could still be—"

"Cake," Kova said. Her voice was firm, staring straight ahead. "The ACHLYS was ambushed by the Fire after an initial recon by Keith and Pidge." Cake became quiet, turning to the screen.

Closing the file, Kova opened the second folder. Possibly even more documents came from the folder, many of them with the same 'CLASSIFIED' stamped onto them.

Opening a picture file, it showed a crazed timeline of events leading up to the ambush Kova mentioned. Kova was adding onto it.

At the top of the chain was a Galra with huge fluffy purple ears that seemed to curve like horns. A robotic eye replaced their left eye while their right eye was entirely yellow. Under his picture, the nametag read 'SENDAK: DECEASED; FORMER'. A red line pointed down towards a second Galra. Or Altean. You couldn't really tell. The being in the picture had an almost gray skin tone with yellow sclera and dark irises and pupils. Their ears were pointed, a long chain earring running from the tip to the lobe. Below, their name tag read 'RALAN: ALIVE; CURRENT'. There was no line connecting Ralan to anyone else on the board.

Taking footage from her helmet cam, Kova changed a few details. Adding a picture of Yorak to the board and connecting a line from Ralan to Yorak, Kova changed the nametags. The 'CURRENT' changed to 'FORMER' and Yorak received an 'ALIVE; CURRENT'.

"Chain of command," Caleb said. Allie had turned around to look at him with a question in her eyes. She turned back around, studying Ralan's face.

"Ralan?" Allie whispered to herself, seemingly trying to find the memory of this man. "Was he a general or a guard?"

"Allie," Shiro turned. "Do you have something to add?" Allie stared at the Colonel.

"It may be in your best interest to contact the Emperor of Altea concerning Ralan." It was all she was able to say before twin pagers went off. Allie stood and raced towards the observation bay.

When Allie left, Shiro began to push down his feelings and started explaining more in depth what the mission against the Fire was about. Liz and Cake would interject here and there, saying the Coeus and Voltron should fight when instigated. Shiro reminded them that while Kova can be as reckless as she wanted, they weren't to go against the Colonel's direct orders.

The Fire's revival began a few decades ago, staying mostly unknown until the recon mission. Yorak's concerned parents, Keith and Pidge, had gone after him because they had reason to believe he was working with an organization that threatened the peace in the universe. The recon mission Keith and Pidge were on took a full calendar year to complete. They had reported a small organization, but it was well armed. On a vote, all former members of the original legendary defender would be suited up to go. Keith and Pidge ran their own organizations, Lance occasionally served as ambassador to Altea but traded often with Alteans, and Hunk had relinquished most control of his culinary empire to head chefs in individual restaurants. The last former member, Shiro, had been offered the Headmaster position at the Garrison, and he didn't turn it down. The ACHLYS was completed in two years after Keith and Pidge returned, and the launch was televised all over the country. It had been months after the mission had launched, and there were routine communications between the ACHLYS and the Garrison, now under Shiro's command. One day, the communications stopped.

There was no response. Not even static. Just silence. Nothing.

Then, on the one year anniversary of the launch, two students reported and assisted a pilot from an escape pod bearing the silent ship's name. The pilot inside was Lance and the students were Kova and Caleb on their way to the green for lunch when they spotted the incoming ship. Neither said a word.

Before Kova could open the last file, everyone on the Coeus had slammed into the nearest object to their right. For Liz and Cake, it was the floor and Kova's pedestal. For Kenny, it was pressing further into a wall. And for everyone else, they had shoulders pressed sharply to the walls. Liz paged for Allie and the crew of the Coeus began defending their ship.

#voltron: next generation #voltron lions #igf coeus #pidge #keith #lance #hunk #shiro #kovalia shirogane #caleb shirogane #liz griffin #allie smythe #cake garrett #kenny holt #kenny kogane #klance #bad parenting #family issues

6 notes · View notes

tadie1234 · 4 years

Text

This was an ask from @daisy-like-a-cow

It was for hidden injury, fainting, and I think infected, tumblr ate your ask and it won’t pop up.

First of thank you!! Second I’m so sorry for this taking so long ❤️❤️

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25815538

“Good job Parker good job, can’t even go one lousy patrol without getting stabbed.” Peter muttered to himself as he attempted to swing back to the apartment while trying to keep the knife from jostling. He remembered from his field training with Natasha that you aren’t supposed to remove a the weapon from a wound without getting proper medical attention, but he wasn’t going to bother Mr. Stark. He had gotten stabbed enough times to know he could do this by himself. It was also barely a stab, it was more like a really deep cut, a scratch if you will, at least that’s what he kept trying to tell himself. So when he finally had gotten back to his apartment he had a plan. First he had to somehow sneak into May’s room without waking her up to grab a needle and thread. Then he would go to the bathroom and carefully take out the knife and clean it with rubbing alcohol. And finally he would use his very little knowledge of stitching to stitch himself up. The plan commenced.

Instead of going into the apartment from his own window, he decided just going into May’s would be easier. So he slowly eased her window open and crawled inside.

“Peter what are you-“ May sleepily asked from her bed.

“Uh-Nothing! You’re dreaming, this is just a dream, go back to sleep.” Peter whisper shouted, as he rummaged through May’s sewing box until he finally found what he was looking for. He grabbed the needle and thread and quietly left her room and went into the bathroom. He quickly took out the knife and placed it on the counter, next he grabbed the bottle of rubbing alcohol and poured a little on the wound. Then Peter took the needle and thread and quickly pushed the needle through the skin and began to stitch. It took around 20 minutes and he almost passed out but he did it. It was around three am and he still had school the next day, so he climbed into bed and instantly fell asleep.

—-/—/—-/

When he woke up, the first thing he noticed was that his side was itching like crazy. He lifted up his shirt to look at the wound and gasped in surprise. The area around the stitches were red and inflamed and there a watery pus that had started to come from the wound. “Well shit.” Peter thought to himself, he decided the best thing to do was to remove the stitches, so he snipped them and some how doing that the wound looked worse than it did before. But he had to get to school, so quickly got dressed and ran into the kitchen hoping that May had already left. But like most things in his life recently, it wasn’t really going the way he hoped.

“Hey sweetie, how did you sleep? I had the strangest dream last night and-“

“Hey May, love you, gotta go bye” Peter said as he rushed towards the door, snagging a banana on his way out.

Peter ran to the subway station and made it to school. Barely. He almost passed out on the subway because he got so dizzy just from standing. But if he didn’t do anything too strenuous it would be fine right?

Wrong. Peter was so very wrong. Getting through first period was practically torture, his side burning and twinging with every movement. And next he had gym. He changed his clothes in the bathroom instead of out with everyone else because he hadn’t wrapped the it and didn’t want anyone to think he got stabbed or something. Which of course he had but that wasn’t the point. But at least today, all they were doing was the rope climbing test. He could do that. All he had to do was just climb to the top of the rope and ring the bell. He’s climbed higher on patrol, this was going to be no problem at all. Except it turned into a slight problem. When Peter reaches midway on the rope, he got really dizzy all of the sudden and black spots filled his vision as he let go of the rope and passed out.

“Peter!” He heard a voice call out. He let out a loud groan and slowly opened his eyes.

“Wha- happened?” Peter asked as he slowly sat up.

“You took quite the tumble there Parker, I’m sending you to the nurse to go home for the day.” Coach Wilson said as he helped the boy sit up.

“Uh- thank you sir.” Peter said as he stumbled out of the gym to the nurses office.

When he arrived to the nurses office the nurse had him lay down on the cot as she called his emergency contacts.

“I can’t seem to get a hold of your aunt let me try this other number.” The nurse said as she bustled around her small office. Peter zoned out after that knowing Tony would be absolutely livid if he found out why Peter passed out.

—-/—-/-

Peter just have fallen asleep waiting for Tony to arrive because he woke up to someone softly shaking his shoulder.

“Hey buddy, time to go.” Peter stood up slowly and needed to lean on Tony the whole way to his car.

“What’s going on with you bud?” Tony said as he buckled Peter in.

“Nothing I just- it’s nothing Tony.” Peter mumbled as he let his eyes fall shut.

“Wanna try that again? Your lying skills are somehow getting worse and worse every time you open your mouth.” Tony said, running his fingers through Peter’s hair. “Are you sick? Not sleeping good? Are you not eating what’s wrong bud? Just talk to me. Tony said softly. Peter saw his life line and took it.

“I’ve just been not sleeping well recently, it’s nothing, I’m fine.” Peter said, trying to sound as believable as possible.

“Pete, you need to come with me with this kind of stuff, I can help you, I’ve dealt with all of this, I know all the little tricks and tips. I’m going to bring you back to the tower and we are going to have a little slumber party.” Tony said taking his hand from Peter’s hair and starting the car. Peter let out a snort at the slumber party part.

“Seriously Mr. Stark? Slumber Party?” Peter asked with a smirk.

“Yeah kiddo that’s what we’re doing. Seriously Pete, I can help you, you need to tell me when you’re not feeling good or can’t sleep or anything.”

“Yeah okay.” Peter said, feeling oh so guilty. They were quiet for the rest of the ride to the Tower.

—-/—-/-

“Okay bud, here’s the plan, movie first and if that doesn’t work I’ll have to pull out my secret sleeping tactics.” Tony said, leading the boy over to the couch. Peter sat down on the couch and waited as Tony gathered some blankets and pillows. He then put a pillow on his lap and made Peter lay down while he covered both of them in a big fluffy comforter. And to make it even more sleep inducing he put on a nature documentary about jellyfish. He waited until they were about 15 minutes into it before he pulled out his real weapon. He started to slowly run his fingers through Peter’s curly locks. And it almost worked. But Peter’s side was really starting to hurt now and he just couldn’t get comfortable, so he stood up to get a new position when Tony stopped him.

“Is that blood on your shirt?” Tony asked peering at him in the darkness.

“What!? No, no it’s uh- wait, yes actually. Mr. Stark, I am uh- on my period, I’m menstruating? I’m on my menstruation.” Peter said trying to remember what he learned from sex ed.

“Peter.” Mr. Stark said unamused. “Lift up your shirt.”

“No, I uh- can’t, I-.” Peter said backing away from the man.

“Peter, come over here and let me see, I won’t get mad.” Tony said lifting his hands up as a gesture of peace. Peter slowly walked over and lifted up his shirt and Tony gasped. The area around the wound was turning purple and it was leaking pus and blood.

“Friday tell Bruce we need him.” Tony yelled as he took Peter by the arm and helped him to the Medbay.

—-/—-/—

“Septic shock!?” Tony called out as he paced in front of Peter. “Do you know why what you did was so incredibly stupid?”

“Yes Mr. Stark, it won’t happen again. Peter said, looking down at the floor. When they had gotten to the Medbay, Bruce told them that Peter was in the beginning stages of septic shock and it was good that they caught it so early. They got him hooked up to an IV with antibiotics and fluids, and Bruce also cleaned and stitched up his wound. But Tony was still freaked out about the whole thing and finally stopped pacing and sat down next to Peter.

“Don’t ever do that again bud.” Tony said softly grabbing Peter’s hand. “You could’ve died, you know that? Next time please tell me these things, I can help you, I promise I won’t be mad.”

“Yes sir.” Peter said, his eyes full of tears.

“C’mere kid.” Tony said, and Peter curled up into his arms as Tony rocked him back and forth to calm him down.

“I- I didn’t mean- I didn’t think-“ Peter said between sobs.

“Hey, it’s fine buddy, at least we got it under control, next time talk to me, I can’t help you.” Tony said softly running his fingers through Peter’s hair.

“Thank you” Peter whispered into his chest.

“Of course bud.” Tony replied, holding him tighter.

And that’s how Pepper found them the next morning, curled up in each others arms.

#fic prompt #irondad #spiderman #avengers endgame #iron man #irondadfic #sick fic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link #ao3fic #hurt/ comfort

2 notes · View notes

rattlung · 5 years

Text

i wanted to get this out for halloween but then it ended up getting (and taking) too long so i was like aight whatever i’ll split it and post the first bit so i know at least some of it will be in time for the spooky scary. not that it’s really spooky scary, but yknow

anyway the second i saw cowboy mirage and vampire crypto i knew i had to write a wild west au with them. if any of you knew me from my glory ovw days, you know wth im talkin about.

so anyway, slooow burn, animal death, blood, blood drinking, and possible ooc-ness because i couldn’t decide on whether i wanted mirage to have a very thick southern accent or not so his dialogue may be a bit whack. also with it being an au, characterization probably got skewed to shit. sorry about that :^(

cross posting fucks up formatting, so to be safe here’s the ao3 link but if that’s not the jam for your bread, it’s all under the read more

=======

The sun had set hours ago, but Elliott remained at his post.

Crickets and grass were his only companions on his porch, not even a candle was lit to keep him company. He didn’t want anyone to know he was out there and the little flame would have given him away. Besides, the moon was high that night and the stars glittered from behind it thanks to the cloudless sky. His eyes had adjusted well enough, and the open fields of the farm didn’t provide enough shadows to cause much concern.

No, Elliott was confident he’d catch who he wanted tonight, it was only a matter of whether or not the little bastard would show up.

He sighed and leaned forward in his chair to rest his crossed arms on the railing of the porch, then placed his chin on them. He hoped whoever it was would show. He couldn’t afford another big hit to the stock again. In the last week, he’d lost three chickens - one of them was the hen he’d sank three dollars into earlier in the month. It’d been a good one, too, healthy eggs up until she went missing with two of her sisters.

It was like nothing Elliott had ever seen before. There were never any carcasses left in the coop or on the land, no blood and maybe only a few stripped feathers. Coyotes were never that clean - not in Elliott’s experience anyway. And to take so many at a time?

Then the marks started showing up on the cattle. Two clean little holes at their shoulders that Elliott would have missed had it not been for the blood that oozed out of them, staining their fur a rusted brownish red.

That changed things. The body-less crimes started making sense, because they weren’t being killed - they were being stolen. Chickens were easy to make off with. Just toss a few in a bag and be on your way. Cows, though, they were marking those. Maybe one man was sent to scope out the pens to pick out the healthiest ones, then send off a crew to look for the marks and round them up to bring them home.

Elliott fought off a yawn and the on coming sense of second guessing himself. They would be coming with a group. He hadn’t thought of that before. If they did show up tonight and they were armed, there would be very little he could do with his mother’s old rifle. Quickly he decided he wouldn’t leave the porch if he saw anything. Just fire off a few shots and hopefully scare them off.

All of the Witts had met unfortunate ends. Two Witt sons died in the war, one to the flu soon after his third birthday, their mother to the plague - and the last Witt, dead to a bullet wound received while defending the cow that sneezed on him that very morning?

Yeah, no thank you, he’d stay right there on the porch, yes, ma’am.

So sit he did, scanning the horizon, the treeline, the pens, and tried not to fall asleep. He wondered if Ms. Williams had any hounds she’d be willing to part with to do this kind of stuff for him. Growing up, he’d always wanted a farm dog and Anita Williams trained some of the best he’d ever seen. Elliott would be able to leave it outside to patrol the land, sleep out on the porch, and chase off any predators or thieves that might be lurking while Elliott was in bed. That would be better than suffering through the brutality of waiting for the sun to rise himself.

Elliott didn’t notice his eyes had closed until they snapped open at the sound of sudden rattling in the hen house. He waited a moment, wondering if he imagined it, but soon there was a murmur of cluckings and Elliott got to his feet. He picked up the hat he’d hung on the back of his chair and placed it on top of his head before grabbing the rifle, standing at the very edge of his porch.

Surely they wouldn’t be going for more chickens, would they? When the cows they had marked were out roaming?

Elliott stepped off the stairs and onto the dirt pathway. If it was chickens being targeted tonight, that means there was likely only one of them. He checked the chamber of his gun before heading off, getting onto the grass as soon as he could in order to dampen the sound of his approaching footsteps. By the time he’s at the fence, the clucking had shifted and grew into something louder, the few hens he had left squawking at whatever was in there with them.

And maybe it was because their din was too loud, but Elliott couldn’t hear anything else. Nothing but feathered ruffling and the scrape of chicken feet.

A chill raised the hair on the back of his neck but he crept forward anyway. He wiped the palm of his hand off on his jeans and pushed open the gate, wincing hard when one of the hens in the coop got louder. The rest were a bit hysterical in their noise making, but this one’s panic was visceral. This wasn’t just someone walking through their nests and aggravating them out of sleep - these chickens were scared for their lives.

Elliott crept up to the wired entrance of the shed and peeked around. Small shadows flicked back an forth on the hay-filled floor in a frenzy. Hoarse, creaking noises spilled from their beaks and wings fluttered as they battled each other in their panic to press to the corners of the shed, close to the walls to get away from -

Now, Elliott wasn’t a religious man - which was an odd thing, when one lived in a small town like he did, where the person he bought canned goods from was the pastor’s brother, and the biggest building was the church which was always filled on Sunday. He never went to mass, not even for the holidays, and the Witt Family’s bible had been left in the bedside table’s drawer since he was a boy.

But he didn’t have to crack apart the thin pages of God’s Word to determine that whatever the thing was in front of him was bad.

Especially when it turned, a chicken limp and unmoving in its hands, and stared Elliott down with eyes that burned like indigo flames.

This isn’t a coyote, his mind helpfully informed him just as his mouth spit out, “Oh, fuck.”

The creature stood up fully and despite all its human-like qualities, there was still that electric energy that was just not right, uncanny and out of place. It showed off a human face, but its skin was so white it almost glinted blue when it passed through the moonlight that bled through the shed’s wooden panels.

Which is how Elliott noticed it was moving toward him. He raised the rifle up and pointed it square at the thing’s chest. If froze in its step, still as stone in half a second, but above the crying of his birds Elliott could hear the trill of something moving in its throat.

“Dro - Drop the chicken,” Elliott ordered, the stillness in his limbs compensating for his trembling voice.

To his surprise the creature listened to him. Its trill from before burst from its throat and its frown opened to let out a hiss, pitched low and piercing. The teeth it bared to him had a pink sheen, wet with blood, and its canines ended in vicious points - points Elliott was sure would match with the ones marking his cattle out on the fields.

“Oh, shit, okay - “ Elliott muttered, too panicked to remember that the creature could hear him.

It hunched down suddenly, dropping into a stance that made Elliott think it was going to lunge for him. Before he could really process that information, could even think to fire a shot at it to knock it down, to kill it, the creature spun around and crashed through the other side of the coop. Elliott blinked at the wire it split through like paper then hurried around the house. It was fast, already having leaped over the fence, a black shape that moved without sound, whispering over the grass in one, two seconds before it disappeared into the trees.

“That’s not a fuckin’ coyote,” Elliott said over the thundering of his heartbeat and the screaming of his chickens.

----=----

For a whole entire day, Elliott allowed himself to think that it was over. He let himself think that that was the last he’d see of the thing, that he’d scared it enough to retreat just from pointing a gun at it. Maybe the fear of Elliott actually using it would keep it away, whatever it was.

Truth be told, he didn’t really want to find out what it was. From the look he got out of it from the shadows, it looked human enough. A man as tall as him, dressed to the nines in black and red silks, slim with features Elliott might have tipped a hat at had he not been terrified the time he saw them. Human features. It looked human.

And yet, the bloodless chicken he’d been forced to get rid of proved otherwise. Once he’d been able to move, he’d wandered back in to examine it and found that it was little more than a husk, dried out and useless. It’s carcass was clean, feathers mostly untouched with no red soaked into them. On its breast were two, neat puncture holes.

The next day, one he’d used to catch up on sleep, he started feeling watched.

As he left the stables after shoveling out the floors, a familiar chill walked along his shoulders like icy fingers, eliciting a shiver from him. It lingered for a moment and slowly dissipated when he searched his surroundings, forcing himself to outwardly appear calm when he found nothing.

It would happen again - and often - in the following weeks. When he left the stables after milking, he’d feel it then. When he fed the chickens, when he lead the two horses out onto the pasture, checked on the hogs - someone was watching him. Waiting. And yet, as each night passed and he’d wake up, Elliott would set out to work and find that none of the livestock had been touched. The hens didn’t go missing. The puncture marks on the cows had scabbed over, and no new ones appeared.

Worriedly, Elliott wondered if he were next, that he was the one being stalked - but why wait so long? He lived alone on the Witt farm, and no one had visited him in the time between then and the encounter.

The idea of a peace offering came to him when he had to put one of the roosters down. It was the older one of the three, the one that was always more aggressive and tried to start fights with the others. Apparently, it had to learn the hard way that all fights it started were not always ones it could win. Elliott should have separated it sooner, or maybe had done something, but his mind had been in other places as of late. He’d felt terrible - for the cockerel, for himself. For his family. The only thing they’d left behind was this farm, and he was making a mess of it.

So, out he marched at the first sign of dusk, right to the edge of the trees where he’d seen the creature dart off all those days ago. He planned on calling out to it until it showed, dropping the rooster at its feet and declaring, There, see? I’m doing just fine on ruining everything on my own, so why don’t you just take the damn bird and go?

He didn’t do any such thing. He just stood there for a long moment, listened to the robins in the woods and the huffing of cattle behind him, and stared down at the rooster in his hands. Eventually, the watched feeling came. Elliott was so used to it that the chill hardly even registered. It was just eyes on him, now, no longer threatening or frightening.

For a moment, neither of them did anything. Nothing jumped out to attack him, and Elliott didn’t say a word. He never actually did. Eventually, he dropped the rooster onto the grass and turned back to the house, not even waiting to see if the creature would show itself.

The sun was finally wishing the horizon a farewell, sinking just under the trees as he’s finishing up the last of his rounds. Elliott tested the locks on the doors of the stalls to make sure they wouldn’t swing open and cast a long look at a cow sitting on the other side of one. She stared back at him. The scabs on her shoulders were just about gone, now, and her fur had grown over the little pink marks that’d been left behind. The rest of the cattle’s marks were just about the same. Nothing fresh.

Inside the Witt home, it was dark. There was still washing up he had to do in the big metal basin sat underneath the kitchen’s window. He probably wouldn’t get to until the next morning, so he pointedly kept his gaze away from there. He moved passed the old dining table that hadn’t seen use in years - mostly it was just full of tools he hadn’t moved back into the shed yet - and made his way toward the fireplace. Soon, the cold blue glow of the darkening sky was warmed by the slow starting flame. Elliott poked at it until he was thoroughly bored of watching sticks crumble into ash and was sure it wouldn’t smother itself.

With a heaving sigh he got back to his feet but didn’t go far, falling onto a wooden bench close to the fireplace. There were bigger and more comfortable places to sit, like the large wicker chair right beside him or the stool that had a pillow sewn onto it haphazardly, but Elliott had always sat on the bench. Maybe tomorrow, after he was done the cleaning, he’d move all the extra furniture out into the shed along with the tools on the dining room table. No use in having so many if he wasn’t using it. He didn’t get much company - none at all, really.

Elliott found himself staring at the book left on the seat of the wicker chair and doubted he’d even get around to doing the washing up.

Over the crackle of the fire, something thumped right outside the front door. Elliott straightened, twisted around to look toward the noise, and thought how weird it was to be thinking about never getting any visitors only to have one stop by. Or maybe the word was ironic.

But then he remembered the time and he held his breath to listen. There was no shuffling of someone on his porch and no knocking on his door. If someone rode all the way out to the Witt’s Farm after sundown it’d be for an emergency, so there was no real good reason for the stranger to be quiet.

Slowly, Elliott stood. Avoiding the floorboards that creaked, he crossed the room toward the door and picked up the rifle he’d left there. The silence was deafening and ringing with the dreadful thought of how he might actually be going crazy. Then, the idea of Elliott opening the door and finding nothing at all was almost as terrifying as opening it and revealing the shadow from the hen house. Had he actually heard something? Was there really something in his woods? What if he went outside to the coop and all of the lost chickens would be accounted for? What if the marks on the cows had healed so fast because they’d never been marked in the first place?

Elliott put his hand on the doorknob, sucked in a breath, held it, then twisted it and pulled it open. The door’s creak seemed like a wail in the empty night - because that’s what it was. Empty. No one standing at his stoop, no shadow perched on his railing ready to strike.

Nothing but the rooster he’d left at the trees, untouched and dropped carelessly at his door.

And for reasons he couldn’t explain, Elliott narrowed his eyes down at it and felt angry. Maybe it was the sleep he was losing, the constant worrying, the loneliness - or maybe he actually was losing his mind. Whatever it was, it was enough to have him bend over, snatch up the bird, and stomp down onto the path toward the trees. When he got there, he still said nothing, but that time he didn’t even wait around. Elliott just tossed the bird back onto the grass where he’d left it the first time and turned to storm away, ignoring the petulant feeling that rose at the display.

He made it about four yards before something hit the dirt behind him. He froze without looking back and grit his teeth.

“Alright, you sumbitch.”

Annoyed, he faced the trees again, passing the bird on the road. That chill was back. Instead of stopping him, have him think twice, it only achieved in making the anger thrumming around in his chest burn defiantly brighter.

Two indigo flames held his gaze when Elliott noticed them, dimmer than the last time he saw them. They regarded him with disinterest and that alone had him nearly seething.

“I’m tired of playing this game you’re havin’ with me,” he snapped. The shadow might have raised a brow at him, but with how dark it was Elliott couldn’t be sure. It didn’t say anything, so the question - the one he’d been wondering since that night - burst out of him. “Why haven’t you just killed me yet?”

Now the eyes moved, turning in a way that told Elliott that the creature had tilted its head. But still, the silence. Slowly, it looked down at the rifle Elliott had nearly forgotten about, pointedly, then back up at him. Elliott heard it hit the ground in the next second, which is how he learned that he himself tossed it aside.

Something that was smothered by the heat of the moment whispered to him, You sleep deprived idiot, just what in the hell are you doing?

What he said out loud was, “Do it, then. Nothin’s stopping you, so do it.”

The shadow did nothing; not a sound, not a movement.

Elliott heard his own breathing over the gentle breeze and wondered why it was so slow. He’d seen the speed the creature had moved at and his only protection was too many paces away. If it wasn’t planning on killing him, the anticipation should have been. But he was calm, staring demise dead in its lightning blue eyes, fists clenched at his sides.

The thought of it being incapable of speech occurred to him, but with the way it watched him, Elliott didn’t find it likely. Despite how inhuman they were, there was sentience behind the shadow’s gaze. Maybe too much for something that fed on blood. It looked at Elliott and he felt that it was capable of telling him exactly what it wanted to with a stare alone - all that and more. It was a heavy kind of thing to know. Elliott realized he had a hard time looking away, so when he managed it he didn’t dare look again.

“Just, get - get out of here.” He started making his way back - and didn’t look at the damned rooster again, either. “Leave me alone and terrorize some other poor bastard’s chickens.”

Coward, he thought, but didn’t know who it was directed to.

----=----

The next morning, Elliott woke up to one less crowing and his rifle propped up on the porch railing outside.

Something in the woods still watched him.

----=----

A few days passed until he saw the shadow again. Elliott was leaving the hen house and had thrown a look up at the sky to gauge the time, sighed at the moon, and turned to shut the wired gate behind him. When he turned around, a figure that definitely had not been there before stood in the path in front of him.

He gasped and sent himself back in a fit of shock, back slamming up against the shed. He scowled once he realized what - or, rather, who it was, but that was gone in the next second, too. The shadow’s posture was still one of casual disinterest; hands in pockets, shoulders relaxed, and expression blank if not aloof. But it was different, Elliott was sure. The skin, while always having been pallid, took a different tone, now, one that was qualmish and almost sickly. And the eyes - the eyes hardly even glowed.

It looked more like a ghost than a shadow.

“What’s wrong?” He asked - and why was he even concerned? It hadn’t tried to kill him yet, sure, but it was responsible for taking out almost a quarter of his chickens.

True to a pattern, the creature said nothing, however, it did give a meaningful look into the shed behind Elliott. When its gaze returned, he could see how its throat worked around a swallow.

“Are - “ Elliott looked back at the hen house as if to check to make sure that was what the shadow had looked at. “Are you asking me to - “ He cut himself off again, but pointed into the house.

It narrowed its eyes at the incredulous inflection in Elliott’s voice but did not say no.

The whistling of grass is the only sound for a long moment as a cool night’s breeze moved over the fields, Elliott at a loss for words. As the wind washed over him, chilling him that much further, he could see the creature’s nostrils flare minutely, and this time when its throat moved it was around a rumbling noise. From the base of its chest it traveled up and out as that familiar trill. It filled Elliott with a sense of urgency, one he couldn’t really explain.

He was torn. It was strange to be asked such a thing, but he supposed he should be grateful of the fact that it was asking at all. But how was he even supposed to answer? As far as Elliott knew, none of his chickens survived. He’d never found markings on them, they would just disappear. With the colder seasons approaching, he really couldn’t afford to lose any more of his livestock.

The cows, though, they’d apparently survived a few run-ins with the shadow.

Elliott looked over to the stables and felt shameful the second he did. Was he really considering it? Other than the fast healing punctures on their necks or shoulders, there had been no real changes in their behavior or health. The morning he’d find the marks on them, they’d appear nonplussed. But what if it hurt them? What if the experience was traumatic in a way Elliott couldn’t see?

Then again, could he really afford to deliberate on this? In that moment, with the shadow looking at him expectantly, it seemed to be between Elliott and the cows. Really, the choice was an easy one, but he was still allowed to feel guilty.

“Follow me,” he told the shadow.

As the temperature steadily declined throughout the days, Elliott had started rounding the cows up into the stables more often. It got too cold at night , and he didn’t want to give the cows a chance to catch an illness. It meant waking up earlier to give them more time to graze but it was safer. While he was unlocking the paneled door to the stables Elliott thought that maybe that was the reason he was losing more chickens. It was harder to get through a locked door without raising suspicion than it was kidnapping a few birds and letting the farmer’s blame fall onto coyotes.

The shadow didn’t make a noise but when Elliott turned, it was standing right behind him, nose wrinkled a little at the intense smell of animal and dirt. He didn’t jump that time. He picked up the unlit lantern he’d left behind on the stacked bales of hay, lighting it fast and hung it on the rung in between two of the stall doors. Inside one of them, the dull eyes of a cow shimmered and regarded him blankly. Elliott drug the door open and stepped inside next to her, touching at the glittering wet nose and felt her hot breath huff against his hand in recognition.

“It doesn’t - there’s no - it - it’s not gonna hurt her too much, is it?” Elliott couldn’t help but ask. Now, he expected a nonverbal answer so he looked back to shadow for it, finding more whites in its eyes and the stoic expression looking cheaper. It wasn’t watching him anymore, purely focused on the cow Elliott was petting at nervously.

It stepped closer, into the stall, and Elliott watched as the cow’s head tipped up apprehensively. The huffing of her breathing got a little bit faster and Elliott heard himself shushing her lowly, scratching around the longer scruff by her ears. He couldn’t imagine he was helping too much, but the only thing she did when he saw the shadow disappear around her other side was let out a small grunt of displeasure.

Time passed; the only sound came from his and the cow’s breathing and the brisk wind rattling the wood of the barn. Elliott kept up his attempt at comfort, watching her face intently, and was surprised to find her calm once again. Slowly, he stepped away, gauging her reaction at the movement but didn’t get one.

He moved back into the base of the barn and heaved up one of the metal buckets he’d filled with grain. It was a favor he’d done for himself that night to save himself some time when he woke up to feed them, but he figured that the cow deserved some special treatment. Elliot brought it over to her front and held it right under her nose for her to sniff out, knocking the handle out of her way and hugging it to his stomach due to the weight of it.

The cow’s ears twitched back and forth in contentment, dipping her snout into the grain and eating it by the mouthful. Relief coursed through him like the blood in his veins and Elliott felt himself smiling a little.

“Good girl,” he told her, to which he got very little in the way of a response.

The shadow straightened in a fluid movement, one Elliott watched with rapt attention. Even in just the few short minutes, there was an excruciatingly apparent change in the creature. The intensity of its eyes returned, their brightness amplifying its now fuller features and adding more color to the porcelain-looking skin - it was the most human Elliott had seen him.

“You were starving,” Elliott muttered with a voice awed in his realization. He thought back to the look the shadow had given the cow before and identified it now as a pained and feral sort of hunger. “Why didn’t you just take the damned rooster?”

The creature wiped the cow blood off of wet lips and had the audacity to look at Elliott like he was the disgusting one. Before he could remark on that, prove to the other how backwards that was, the shadow’s mouth opened and for the first time, he spoke. In a voice that was low and smooth, with layers upon layers of something deep and new to Elliott threading through the syllables, he simply stated, “It was dead.”

Elliott sputtered, a little dumbstruck. “So?”

The shadow’s eyes narrowed into a disbelieving glare. “It was dead for a long time.”

“You’re gettin’ partipu - pertil - picky about what blood you’re drinking, now?”

If he were being frank, Elliott wasn’t sure why he was antagonizing the shadow. He’d been merciful so far in not maiming him. And Elliott couldn’t exactly say that if he’d left something out for the hours the rooster had been sitting, he would drink it, either.

But surely drinking blood wasn’t enjoyable in any sense.

Elliott pulled the bucket out from under the cow. Some feed stuck to the wetness of her nose which she cleaned off with a few swipes of her tongue. “I guess we’re done here,” Elliott said to her, but mostly to the shadow.

The shadow that had since disappeared from the stables.

Sighing, Elliott replaced the now three quarters filled bucket with the others as he shook his head. “Guess we are.”

----=----

They weren’t, but Elliott had expected that much.

Every other night, now, when Elliott was finishing his rounds he caught sight of the shadow leaning against the barn doors like it was an arrangement they’d agreed on. He’d finish locking up and meet him there where he’d open the doors and wave the shadow inside, direct him to one of the seven cows, and pretended it wasn’t abnormal. Every farmer had an odd case; a pair of horses that only fed at a specific time of day, cattle that grazed exclusively on the left side of the pasture, a herding dog that befriended and mothered ill lambs.

Elliott’s odd case was a vampire, but it was fine. Every farmer had an odd case. Some odder than others.

Things started to change on the evening Elliott had just left the stables unlocked. One of the pen’s posts had crumbled from age and the fences around it sagged too close to the dirt. It was a reminder that he’d have to put work into replacing them before the winter, or else he’d have a lot more work come spring. Like the dishes in the basin and the extra furniture still in the front of his house, that was a problem for tomorrow’s Elliott. He’d just repair the broken one for now.

He was just testing out the sturdiness of the new post when he noticed that the shadow was standing behind him. By then he was so used to the minor jump scares that he only just barely lost the hammer in his grip. It thumped onto the old, rotten fence post he’d left laying there and landed quietly in the grass.

“Lord - Jesus - Chri - you gotta stop doing that,” he told the shadow, hand over his heart.

Silence from the shadow. He’d gone back to his quiet pledge, not having spoken since their very short conversation in the stables.

Elliott was used to that, too, so shook his head and leaned down to pick up the hammer and the post. He could leave it to dry out on his porch, break it apart further and use it for tinder later. “I left the barn open,” he said when he saw that the shadow was still standing there.

“I know,” the shadow responded. Something flashed in his eyes, probably on account of how fast Elliott snapped up to look at him, not having expected an answer. It was some kind of struggle, Elliott imagined, because his mouth opened a second before he said anything. “Thank you.”

Elliott’s eyes widened. “I - uh. Y-yeah, you’re welcome. It’s fine. It’s - y’know, it’s better than you killing my chickens.”

That flash of something struck again. Elliott wanted to apologize. He genuinely didn’t want to offend the shadow, and he might have actually done it if he didn’t speak before him. “Why haven’t you told anyone?”

And that would have been smart, wouldn’t it? Letting the town know about the blood drinker in their woods. They could have helped Elliott a few dead birds earlier, rounded up enough of them for a search party - if they even believed him in the first place. But that would have involved killing the shadow, or running him off, and Elliott didn’t really enjoy the idea of that. In some kind of morbid way, through all of the heart-pounding meetings and stress-induced nightmares, he kind of liked the company. He’d probably miss it if it were gone.

Besides, the nightmares were really nothing new.

Still, he decided he wasn’t going to tell the other that. He just grinned, leaned up against the freshly repaired fence - very sturdy - and said, “I think I’ve got you handled.”

The shadow’s brow rose and he looked Elliott up and down, then finally back up again. “No,” is all he said.

The smile dropped from Elliott’s face but he didn’t say anything more on that, because, unfortunately, the shadow was being very fair. “Right, well,” he muttered, pushing off the fence. He was ready for bed. “Have a good night, then.”

“Are you Witt?” He was asked after a few paces.

Elliott paused, turned around slowly. “How’d you know about that?”

“I listen,” the shadow stated simply.

Looking around acres of empty land, Elliott wondered, to who? “Yeah, I - well, I’m one of them. Witt’s my last name, so there’s… Well, there’s been a few Witts.”

The other’s head cocked to one side. “Which Witt are you?”

The only one, really. “I’m Elliott.”

The shadow nodded, looking him over once more. “Good night, Elliott.”

All he did was stand there for a moment, blinking, too caught up on how his name sounded in the smooth whisper of the other’s voice. He’d never heard it be said like that before.

Then, finally, his brain caught up.

“Hey, wait,” he called, despite the shadow not having moved an inch. “That’s not very fair, now is it? I don’t get to know your name?”

He wouldn’t exactly say that the shadow was the teasing sort, but it did take numerous weeks to get a decent two-sided conversation out of him. Mostly, Elliott expected the same response from before. Another ‘no’ before he disappeared for a few nights again.

“Tae Joon,” was what he got, though.

Elliott tried it out for himself. “Tae Joon.”

The shadow’s head tilted further.

Elliott smiled, tipped his hat. “You have a good night, Tae Joon.”

He shifted the wooden post around for easier carrying and put his back to the shadow, knowing that if he turned around now he probably would find empty air. It was fine. Elliott knew he’d see him soon.

=====

yyyyeaahh this is what i’ve been putting off prompts for BIG oof :^((((

not sure when i’ll finish the rest of it tbh but here’s this for now i guess

#cryptage #apex legends #crypto #mirage #elliott witt #tae joon park

33 notes · View notes

heedra · 6 years

Note

living room for harv bedroom for sachi and... hmm. ATTIC for pho >:3c

OOOH a bunch

HarvHow does the character spend weekends? - Harv doesn’t pay attention to the weekday too much but he has a pretty reliable schedule if he’s holed up somewhere:-Wake up in the early evening, emerge from whatever bolthole/makeshift bunker he’s holed up in

- Do a bit of begging for ‘breakfast’, lounge around outside local seedy pubs, throw some scraps to the retinue of local stray dogs who follow him around expectantly if he’s in one place for too long-once its dark out and the streets are quieter, go scrounging for ‘supplies’ -spend remainder of ‘day’ back in hidey hole working on necromancy stuff of just lyin’ aroundHe does tend to keep his head down more on days when people have work off and are out and about in larger numbers.What kind of movies does the character watch?- He doesn’t, lol, but if he did he’d be that guy who loves watching bad movies so he can peanut gallery them. Harv has a healthy instinct for loving a good-spirited communal gripe or five. God, he’d have a LOT of fun doing this.What do they do with friends?- He’s that guy whose always kinda looming in the corner clearly uncertain of whether he’s actually welcome or not. He seems content enough to kind of be included for a bit and just shoot the shit with some beers, but nobody’s really in the habit of saying “what do you wanna do, Harv? let’s do that”, likely because he radiates an aura that suggests that nobody is truly prepared to deal with the answer to that question.What’s their favourite pasttime? - Putting dead things together like a kid drunk on the power of a new tin of tinkertoys, in a manner that would make even the weirdest and artsiest weird artsy taxidermist go “dude, are you ok?”What’s their favourite TV show/Film? - Who knowsSachi How does this character sleep? (Position, sleeping habits, bedtime routines)- Sachi sprawls the fuck out when she sleeps and tends to kick the covers everywhere. She can be a nuisance to sleep next to cuz she might involuntarily kick you as well. She’s also sleepwalked once or twice. Just, in general, a rowdy sleeper. She used to fall out of her hammock on the party’s ship a lot. In terms of like, sleep schedule, she tends to be a morning person (she really savors the sights and sounds of sunrise) but can easily end up staying up way later than she plans if she’s focused on or excited about something, and more often then not ends up falling asleep with a book or pencil in hand.

What are their pyjamas like?- Sachi falls asleep in her clothes a lot because at the end of the day, she’s a very overhelmed and overworked invidivual who is in the middle of action in the field more often than not and has trouble putting things on pause to take a proper fucking nap. When she does take the time to change into sleeping clothes, she prefers things that are comfortable and loose, and if its warm out and she’s in her own room she usually just sleeps in comfy pants.What do they dream about usually?- She’s one of those people that often has ridiculous dreams that are straight outta left field. Occasionally she gets really bad anxiety dreams but those usually don’t have a lot of substance to them that can be described, she rarely remembers many details and they’re more just emotional.How neat/tidy is this character?- Oh she is an absolute mess. It’s lucky she owns very few material possessions, because otherwise any living space of hers would become a ‘damn bitch, you live like this?’ situation really fast. Her room on the ship is usually strewn with books and blankets and papers and a few humble but foreboding stacks of plates and bowls. It’s not because of any lack of desire to be neat, she’s just absentminded and busy!

How affectionate is this character?- She will sprawl across you on the sofa! She will punch you playfully on the arm! She will do a running leap to bearhug you! She will throw her arm around your shoulder and lean in real close to whisper you an extremely bad joke she made up on the spot. She will offer to braid your hair and also to arm wrestle you in the same breath! Sachi is extremely affectionate. (She was THAT ONE KID who thought it was really funny to lay on her belly and grab onto a caretaker’s leg and refused to let go when she was little.)PhoenixWhat is the character afraid of?- Ohhhhhhhh boyyyyyyyy. I could devote multiple pages to this question probably. I think his biggest fear bar none is losing control (of himself, not of others or of circumstances) and, by extension, hurting those he cares about. He’s been a conduit for the Neverborn before, with grisly results, and at another time suffered some frightening horror-hunger as a side effect of a wyld curse, which he still feels echos of. In a similar vein he does not like being immobilized or physically restrained against his will and it can make him really panic!In terms of bigger picture fears, he knows he has a lot of very powerful, very malicious enemies and the thought that they might try and do something to the people he loves, esp his found family, keeps him up at night. Sometimes, he has nightmares of being dragged back into a monstrance, and he’s never quite certain that the Whispers are really gone.On a lighter note, he’s really not fond of cows. Why? It’s a long story.How do they deal with bad memories?- He’s relatively open, if not big on elaborating, with regard to most of his past if people ask; its not a secret to begin with, but when it comes to the actual affect it had on him he tends to think that it’s his burden to bear, and tries to keep a lot of that to himself. He does have a few close friends who have known him long enough to be privy to most of it either cuz he’s told them or because they were there to see it, but even then he doesn’t really talk about it until he’s having a Really Bad Time and shows up on their doorstep a few drinks in and really needing to spill the contents of his brain to someone before it eats him up. Don’t do that, Pho, that isn’t healthy!What is this character’s role in a horror movie?- He’s either A. The tough jock with a heart of gold who dies heroically throwing himself at the monstrous lumbering axe murderer to give his friends time to run or B. The monstrous lumbering axe murderer, depending on what time in his life you are talking about.How do they hide their secrets?- Very, very poorly. He has guile 1. He simply resolutely doesn’t talk about things he doesn’t want to, but it’s easy enough to read that there is something he doesn’t want to talk about.Which of the Seven Deadly Sins does the character relate to most?- I’d almost say gluttony; not in the tired ‘haha this guy eats a lot’ sense but more in the more general sense that he indulges in things he finds comforting for indulgence’s sake or as a distraction from addressing his real problems, and can make kinda poor or impulsive decisions when it comes to those things. Wrath is also a big one for him; more in his past than now, but it still plagues him. The Mask ruled him through his rage at a senseless and cruel world, and he in turn channeled a lot of that rage back at the Mask and himself and Oblivion in general when he went renegade, and at the time it gave him what he needed to keep standing sometimes, but it’s really not so good at helping wounds to heal.

#harv #sachi #pho #this post got long #long post #mechanicalriddle

13 notes · View notes

wordfighter · 7 years

Text

All around the world, chapter 10

Summary: It has been ten years since Emil saw his friends and he decides to take a vacation to see them. Type: fanfiction/chapter story Words: 1546 Category: Stand Still Stay Silent Genre: Friendship, hurt/comfort Rating: Teen Characters: Lalli, Emil, Mikkel, Malthe, Michael Warnings: Cows,

Read it here or at ff.net

Lalli didn't care much, and Emil knew he shouldn't since he had seen lots of farms both in Sweden and in Finland, but there was something different about the Madsen farm. To begin with, it was big, with large fields that laid barren for the winter. Cows were grazing in one field, getting what fresh grass they could before the first snow would fall. And in the middle of the whole place there was four buildings, all looking like they had been built by different people, and even those different people hadn't been able to agree about how their own house should look. Even though it looked like a place to try out new explosives there was still something tranquil, something warm, over the place. It felt like home, even though Emil had never seen it before.

”It's a beauty, isn't it?” Malthe said with a laugh.

Emil wasn't sure how to answer, so he nodded. Malthe led them towards the houses and Lalli started pulling at Emil's backpack as they walked, handing Emil the three presents they had gotten for Mikkel. As they got closer Emil spotted someone near one of the buildings, trying to get a cow to go inside it. Malthe waved to the person.

”Yo, Mikkel!”

”Ah, the lost son returns”, Mikkel answered and gave up his attempts with the cow. ”And he brought company! You should have warned us.”

”Hi Mikkel”, Emil said, smiling stupidly at the older man.

Mikkel hadn't changed much during the years. A little bit thinner, but barely noticeable, still sporting the sideburns and his shoulder-lenght hair. As he came up to them Emil noticed the wrinkles in his face and as the man smiled at them he saw that there was something different over Mikkel's eyes that age alone couldn't explain.

”Sorry for not warning you”, Emil said, ”but I wasn't entirely sure if I'd even find you.”

Mikkel nodded towards what seemed to be the main building, told them to get inside and Malthe led them to the building. Mikkel joined them after ten minutes.

”Michael, we have guests! Prepare some food for them, they look like they're starving!”

He sank down in an armchair, gestured for Emil, Lalli and Malthe to settle down, which they did, and then Mikkel asked what had brought them there. Emil explained that he had wanted to visit the first people he could actually call friends and Lalli had been kind enough to offer to tag along. He told Mikkel a little about how life had been in Sweden, and then Michael came inside to tell them that food had been prepared. Emil's jaw dropped a little when he saw the second Mikkel entering the room, and Michael laughed, held out his hand to the Swede.

”I'm Michael, Mikkel's older brother.”

”Older only by about thirty minutes.”

”It's still older.”

Emil decided that Michael was a person he liked. He got up from the couch and was reminded about the gifts he was still holding and offered them to Mikkel. Mikkel raised an eyebrow, but thanked him and opened them. He laughed when he saw the potatoes and his laughter increased when he unwrapped the two books. They all went to the dining room, settled down and ate dinner. Malthe told his brothers about what he had done in Sweden and how Emil had stumbled over him on the boat, followed by Mikkel and Michael telling stories about farm-work during the summer. Emil did his best to keep Lalli part of the conversation, but after a while Lalli patted his arm and told him to enjoy the conversation without translating. Emil smiled thankfully.

”So you've mastered Finnish now?” Mikkel asked.

”Only took me like 8 years”, Emil said, proud over his achievement. ”I decided to finish studying it when I got back home since I had already started. Was pretty good to have in work as well, made the Finns feel more welcome when they came over.”

”How about Danish?”

”Still sounds like gibberish”, Emil answered with a smile. ”So what have you been up to these years?”

”Little brother here is inbetween jobs again”, Michael said, ”so he dcided to help me and the wife out here. He's also bravely declining all attempts from the ladies who wants to court him.”

”I am too old to get married and have kids, Michael.”

”Don't try that one on me, you've been like this for twenty years.”

”Was that the reason you came to the Silent World with us?”

”They needed someone to keep an eye on you kids and since I was momentarily between jobs at that time I decided that I could just as well follow along.”

Michael leaned closer to Emil.

”Don't listen to him, it was his revenge for getting kicked off from the reclamation attempt.”

Emil laughed, but tried to hide it behind a cough. Mikkel glared at the two of them and they fell quiet as they finished eating up. Michael took care of the dishes while the other four continued talking. Malthe left when Michael came back and the four of them played some boardgames and kept talking for another two hours. Mikkel offered Emil and Lalli room on the farm while they stayed in Denmark, but warned them that there would be early mornings and that he had lots of work to do and wouldn't be able to entertain them much. Emil ensured him that it wouldn't be any problem, he and Lalli were able to entertain themselves.

Emil helped Mikkel with the cows the next day, with Lalli sitting on the fence to watch them work. Mikkel had to show him how everything worked, and he admitted that he was impressed that Emil was interested in learning it. Emil wasn't sure what to answer and instead asked Mikkel about what he had done since the expedition. Mikkel told the younger man that he had worked in Iceland for a couple of years, then returned to the Danish military, and was sent to Norway to work in Sigrun's division. A year later he returned to the farm as his mother had gotten ill, had found work in the town, but after six months she had passed away and Mikkel moved back to the farm to help his father, who was also getting worse.

”Michael and his wife inherited the farm, so I rejoined the Danish army”, Mikkel continued. There was a new attempt to reclaim former Denmark and...”

”Were you relocated again?”

Mikkel hook his head.

”I was in the first wave. We got further this time, but then... We got overrun. I almost died that day and when I was finally better Michael had gotten his first kid, so I moved back to the farm. I have been helping out here since then, I take care of the animals with Maiken, Michael's wife, while Michael handles the crops.”

Mikkel showed Emil once more how to grab the cow while milking it. Lalli also gave it a try, but the cow moved away from his cold hands, and Mikkel took over. Emil helped leading a few of the cows into the barn and at lunchtime Maiken came with food. She looked tiny next to Mikkel, almost a head shorter than Emil and very round.

”Eighth month”, she answered to Emil's unspoken question.

”And you shouldn't be out working”, Mikkel said and patted her head.

”I know, but I can't trust you two with the cooking.”

She settled down on a bench and Mikkel wrapped a blanket around her before he settled down to eat. Maiken told Emil about life on the farm and all the trouble Mikkel and Michael had given their parents when they were young. Maiken had lived in the farm next to the Madsen family and often snuck over to be with the twins.

”I had an older brother, but he was ten years older and me and didn't want to drag a kid along while he helped our parents. Michael and Mikkel let me tag along”, she looked at Mikkel, ”even though I didn't enjoy when they lured me into the bull's pen.”

”He wouldn't have hurt a fly”, Mikkel said in defense.

”Yes, but how would you expect a five year old girl to understand that? My parents forbid me to come over after that, so of course they found me here more often. Did you two have any pets?”

Both Emil and Lalli shook their heads, but Emil told her about the dog his family had owned when he was a child. Lalli had never had a pet, but Emil happily shared his plans about maybe getting a cat or something. Mikkel laughed, commented that Lalli should be quite enough for that and Emil shook his head.

”You can't own Lalli.”

Maiken gathered the bowls again and went back to the house, Lalli followed her and Emil continued helping Mikkel get the cows inside the barn. It seemed to go well, but when almost all of them were inside half of them escaped again and they had to start over. Gathering them took almost the whole day and when it was time to head to bed Emil fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

#english #fanfic #sssscomic #genre: friendship #genre: hurt/comfort #rating: teen #character: emil västerström #character: lalli hotakainen #character: mikkel madsen #character: malthe madsen #character: michael madsen #challenge: 100 ssss-fics #collection: all around the world

0 notes