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druidx · 8 months

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Find the Word Tag - Alexis Dalliance vs the Evil of Titan - Part 1

I have a lot of Find the Word tag games. So I decided to put them all together to make me edit the Alexis Dalliance vs the Evil of Titan, a NaNoWriMo novel from 2012 based on the first TTRPG campaign I participated in the Fighting Fantasy World of Titan setting.

There was a total of 145 words to find so I've split these into batches of ~50. I've not removed any duplicates, and where there's not an exact match I've used synonyms instead.

I've grouped the words by the original tagger - though some of these are old enough the tagger has changed URLs...

Fair warning before you click:

I have tried to keep the snips short, but at ~7000 words, this post is 'colour of the sky' long.

Well, if we're sitting comfortably, I'll begin.

➤ @aquadestinyswriting

Bother

The dragon tilted its head, red scales flashing like fire and blood as it looked at her from another angle. "Well, if that's all it was…" It said, in a descending tone. Alexis nodded fiercely. "Then I suppose I can let you off… But I want you to do something for me, first." "And what would that be?" Richard asked. "There is a Blackguard," the dragon said, "who has been making a nuisance of himself in my territory. I would like him killed.” The dragon sniffed the air, gaze landing back on Richard. “A job, I suspect, for you, holey one.” "Why should we fight your battles for you?" Richard asked. Alexis hissed at him, but the dragon just. chuckled. It crossed its paws, laying its chin down, considering. "Quite frankly," it said finally, "why should I? Why bother sullying my claws when you have appeared at the perfect opportunity to rid this pest for me?" Richard pursed his lips, then gave a sharp nod.

Kettle (Tea)

While Kassandra stoked up the fire and set water over to boil, David, Richard's brother-in-law, bustled around fetching plates and bread for the travellers crowded around his kitchen table. When all had a cup of nettle tea and a plate of bread and jam, David settled into his explanation. “They came a few weeks back,” he said. “They told the village elders they just wanted to practice their new religion in peace. The elders agreed and gave them land to build a chapel. After all, there’re so many gods already – what could one more hurt? “Of course folks are curious. They dropped in to see what this new god was about. And these new priests started converting them.” Bastet raised an eyebrow. “That’s the problem?” “Doesn’t sound like it does it?” David gave a bitter laugh. “But something happened to the folks they converted. Became mindless and mean about it. Our neighbour Sam – you remember, Rich? The fella with the lazy mouser? – he always let me borrow his post-holer, and I’d always let him use my ploughshare. But I went up to ask him for it and he threw me out on my rear, saying the new god didn’t approve of it.” He shook his head. “We never had much, but we had each other. We were a community, see? Now, we haven’t even that.”

Language (Accent)

CW Swearing

Alexis paused at an intersection with Bastet and Victor on her heels and looked around. She couldn’t make head or tail of the street signs, so she grabbed a passer-by. "Excuse me, I’m looking for the trade district," she said. The woman she had caught looked down her nose, brushing away a wave of well-coiffed hair, from where it had fallen at her sudden stop. "It would be over that way," she said, gesticulating to the east. "Thank you," Alexis said, but the woman was already walking away, brushing at her sleeve as though something nasty had landed on it. "Spoiled bitch," Alexis muttered, turning to stick out a tongue at the woman’s back. Bastet winked. As the snooty woman passed, she stuck her foot out, causing the woman to trip. "Oh, my. So sorry," Bastet said, in mimicry of the woman’s polished accent. "I didn’t see you there." The snooty woman spluttered from where she sat on the cobbled street, as Bastet and Victor walked on. Alexis let them catch up and smacked Bastet lightly on the arm, but she couldn’t help smirking at the woman’s comeuppance.

➤ @corkythewriteblr

Citizen

Loyal

"We need to leave," Bastet said. "We don’t know who’s loyal to Dire. These people have their hands full right now, but it won’t stay that way.” "She’s right," Richard said, unfolding from his crouch. "Come on." Mute, Alexis stood, trotting to keep up with the others as they made their way down the castle bailey and into the city, swerving through the chaos of screaming townsfolk to retrieve their mounts from the Inn.

Qualify

Sand (Blacksands)

"Sirs," Richard said with a sharp salute. "I can confirm that both Zharradan Marr and Balthus Dire are dead. We have liberated Troll Tooth Pass, and the city of Castle Dire." "Excellent," Hengar said, his tone relieved. "This is just what I needed, some good news to cheer me up." "Good news? You mean there’s been bad news?" Alexis asked. "Yes, sadly." Hengar sat back in his chair. "Master Yastromo, if you please?" Yastromo inclined his head, long white beard swaying with the motion. "Of course, Captain." The old wizard sighed. "I am sorry, my children, to send you straight out again. However whilst looking through Zagor’s effects, I discovered something disturbing." He held up an amulet depicting a stylized eye in a circle. "He’s still dead, right?" Alexis said with trepidation. Yastromo gave her a sad smile. "Yes. I’m afraid this could be much worse. It seems Zagor was part of a cult called the Eye of Myurr. I have also received word that this cult of Myurr is gaining traction in the town of Port Blacksands. We do not know their aims, but given they worship a demon prince from the Pit, it is surely not anything good." Yastromo glanced at Hengar and stepped back.

➤ @talesfromaurea

Cliff

Desert

CW: Blood, animal death

"Very well. Good luck," Nicodemus said, gesturing at Cee-Jay. "Apprentice?" The boy nodded. With a flash and a jolting motion, the group were surrounded by torch-lit sandstone walls and wailing lizardmen. Victor sent a ball of flame rolling through the crowd, Richard close behind, cleaving a path. Bastet and Jay ran, Victor and Alexis, covering their rush towards the portal. Richard had turned aside, making his way through the press of bodies flung against his sword, towards the lizardman elder whose blade was already slick with the blood of desert rodents, and a wavering chant could be heard through the scrum for fighting.

Ocean (waves)

"Bast!" Alexis shouted. "I need you. Richard’ll take care of Victor. I need help now!" Goregut lifted Bastet around, dropping her next to Alexis. The two of them hunkered down, Gorgut shifting splintered planks as Bastet and Alexis lashed them together as best they could with freezing fingers in the torrential rain. It was a small, pitiful thing, but better than not having anything at all. The three of them tied themselves on long halters to the raft, and then with a joint effort, launched themselves into the heaving waves.

Storm

As is often the case the morning after a storm, a blisteringly clear blue sky beat down upon the sandy shore, with only the merest breeze to ruffle the black braids of the shipwreck survivor. Alexis coughed out sand and rolled over, pawing at the salt crusting on her eyes. She dragged out her water skin and washed off her face of sand and salt before taking a long drink. When she felt slightly more alive – certain that the Great Ever After wouldn’t leave her with crusty eyes – she stood up and started to explore the island and see if she could find her friends.

➤ @whimsyqueen

Fascinate

Alexis clenched her free hand as he walked towards her and forced a smile across her lips. "Most feared Lord Dire," she said. "We have come from the Fort at Trolltooth Pass, sent by your brother in darkness, my Lord Marr, to bring you this gift." "Now, isn’t this a treat," Dire said, stepping around her and Three, his eyes feeling as though they lingered on her as much as the patchwork construct beside her. Dire stopped in front of them, taking a few steps backwards. "Please, show me what it can do," he asked, his silken voice and sickly sweet perfume writhing about her, like the snake of temptation in books of yore. Alexis stepped away and glanced at Richard. They hadn’t planned any of this out, and she wondered how long she could keep the charade up before Dire would know something was wrong. Richard dipped his head, his eyes skittering to where Bastet was signing at her in thieves' hand signals. It was a pattern, followed by the sign for someone getting flattened. Alexis cleared her throat, brushing her nose, signalling she understood. “Three,” Alexis said, addressing the construct. “We’re going to play a little game.” "Goody! I like games," he said. “Please take two steps backwards, and then four forwards for me.” “Okay,” he said, and, squinting at his feet, walked back then forwards, quietly counting his steps. Delighted, he looked back at Alexis. “Done it,” he said happily. “What’s next, ‘Lexis?” “One step right, one back, two forward.” “Okay!” Again, Three’s face scrunched in concentration as he counted his steps, stopping right in front of Dire. “Fascinating,” Dire said, staring up at Three. “You can control it even without it’s crystal.” Alexis glanced back at the others. Victor shrugged. Richard loosened his sword from its scabbard. “Yes,” he said, “it’s a new system my Lord Marr is trialling. Woodling, show him the final command.” Alexis murmured her assent. “Three? Smush!” she yelled.

Gentle

Breakfast finished, Alexis slipped outside with a plate of raw steaks and headed towards the stables. “Good morning, Three,” she called. “Hullo, ‘Lexis,” he said, giving her a wave. She knelt beside her riding dog, placing the plate of steak in front of him. Neisk’s tail beat back and forth as she peeled one steak off and passed it to Three. “Eat,” she commanded, ostensibly to the dog, but Three also devoured the steak as Neisk gave a chuff and settled down to eat. “How are you this morning, Three?” she asked as the construct licked his fingers. “I’m fine,” he said, giving her a big goofy smile. “Your doggy is cute.” “Yes. My to'mae is a very good boy.” Three gave Neisk a gentle pat as the dog was licking the plate. “Listen, Three,” Alexis said. “Me and the others have to go into the city, but we can’t take you. You, um, stand out, a bit. Are you okay staying here with Neisk?” “Oh,” Three’s face fell. “Okay ‘Lexis.” Guilt gripped Alexis’ heart, so she reached over and hugged his arm. “I’m sorry, honey. We’ve got some very important work to do in the city and it’s… difficult when you’re with us.” She looked up into his big, trusting, mismatched eyes. “It’s okay, ‘Lex. I understand.”

Holy

CW swearing

"Yeah… It's some kind of powerful magical item, for sure," he said. "It’s glowing bright blue, but I can’t work out what it’s been enchanted with. Give me a sec, I’ll cast Detect Alignment to find out if it’s evil." Once again the rest of them exchanged looks but kept silent as Victor wiggled his fingers in a slightly different pattern. "Revelux in denomination!" he commanded. The wind sighed. Sand scuttled. Victor screamed. He dropped the dagger, falling heavily into the sand, and covering his eyes. "Holy mother of fucksticks!" Bastet rushed over to him and Alexis swiped the dagger. "What happened?" Alexis said. "Are you okay?" Bastet said, cupping the wizard’s shoulders. "Vic, talk to me?"

Ritual (Rite)

Nicodemus raised an eyebrow. "Indeed." He gestured to the viewing mirror again. "As you can see these cultists are devoted and stubborn fellowes. They have almost finished clearing the temple and preparing for their heinous rite which will allow them to open a portal to the demon dimension, or as you might call it ‘the Pit’, bringing their foul lord Myurr through to wreak whatever havoc he wishes on our world. We can not let this happen. As such I am sending you back with this." He handed Richard a cylindrical device, then waved a hand to bring forth a man in pale robes. "This acolyte will transport you back to the temple, and assist you in sealing this portal forever."

➤ @eli-writes-sometimes

Heir (Prince)

"Are you okay?" Bastet said, cupping the wizard’s shoulders. "Vic, talk to me?" "I… I’m all right. I think," he said, his voice shaking. "So. Um. Yeah. That thing is pure evil. As evil as a prince of evil in the dimension specially reserved for really evil things." "What did you see?" Richard asked. "Red," Victor said. "Only red. That thing is giving off an aurora of evil so strong that I see nothing but the waves of light from it. Give me a moment – I must wait for the spell to wear off."

Humanity (Human)

"Richard!" came the delighted cry of a woman. The door flew open and out sailed a middle-aged woman, long braids of ashy-yellow hair streaming out behind her. "Kassy!" Richard cried as the woman threw herself into his arms. "Kassy, what’s wrong?" Her fingers dug into his shirt, her face pressed against his chest for a long moment, before she looked up with reddened, haunted eyes. "Oh Richard, it’s terrible," she said, tears in her voice. “What is? Kassy? What’s happened?” "Richard?” Sticking out from around the door was the head of a human male. His eyes were heavy and his thatch of dark hair was in disarray. With one flickering glance, he took stock of the mismatched adventurers on his doorstep. “Richard, are these people your friends?” “Yes. David, what-” The man pushed the door wider. “You need to get inside now. Hurry!”

Take

"Ho! Whoa. You hold up a moment there, lassy," the captain called. Alexis stopped and turned back, arms folded and head tilted with a glare. The captain grabbed a line, swinging from the ship to the dockside, and landed, silken waist sash fluttering in the breeze. He struck a pose, one hand on the hilt of his sword. "Are y'trying to suggest that I, Captain Dragan Bloodbeard, of the beautiful Oaken Rose, is not fit to take a couple of poncy humans over the seas to Khul?" The captain took a few, stalking, steps forward, glaring down. "Well, are ye?"

Tough

(Word edited out for better prose) CW: Slavery

Once all the women had eaten, the guards unlocked their cell. The slaves filed out and, one by one, were locked to a long chain. The chain was dragged by a guard down to dim pits where veins of opalescent stone ran through the rock. The chain was locked to a staple on the wall, and pickaxes handed out. The other slaves began to attack the rock face. With a glance at Bastet, Alexis followed suit, struggling to even lift the pickaxe.

➤ @thewriteflame

Erase (Remove)

Alexis must have slept at some point, as she woke in a dog pile of small children and blankets. The sun was burning its way through the hall’s high windows, promising a fine day; what little the weather cared for mortal tragedy… She lay back, staring at the wide-beamed ceiling, exhausted down to her bones. At least it would make assessing the damage easier than if they had to manage it in the rain. Her thoughts turned to Richard and Ithanor, passing buckets in the rain, and to Bastet who’d vanished into the dark, and to Victor, throwing magic and water around with only one care. She should, probably, go check on them. Alexis slithered out of the warm pile, pulling the blankets over those who were left shivering with her departure, watching the children with a fond smile as they snuggled together, filling the hole she’d left. She adjusted her armour – apparently never having managed to remove it the night before – and found her travel pack and weapons close by. On soft feet, she padded out of the Town Hall and into the courtyard.

Flight

"Thank you, so very much," said the dragon. "I’m afraid I was in over my head there. If you kind folks hadn’t come along when you did, I would have been dragon kebab for sure. Thank you again, for saving me, Kypris of the Copper Dragon Flight. Is there anything I can offer you for your excellent service? Alexis instinctively held out her hand. "It’s very nice to meet you, Kypris," she said. The dragon extended a talon and they shook "Why didn’t you use your acid breath attack?" Bastet asked. "My my, you’re very knowledgeable, aren’t you little drow. Well…” Kypris scuffed a foot into the sand. “I was taken by surprise and they tangled my mouth shut before I could use it. I sadly haven’t yet learnt the full way of magic. So I couldn’t do much against those wretched little creatures. Now, please! What can I do to repay your kindness?"

Sleep

CW smoking/ drug use

Slowly they all woke, grateful to find both their necks and belongings intact. “Usually I do not let people sleep here,” the barman said, taking a suck from a long pipe, huffing out a cloud of scented smoke. “But I see you are new here, with no place yet to rest your heads. For the service of keeping the braziers lit and protecting you through the long night.. Eh, I will give you a discount for your newness. Two silver bits each.” He waggled his eyebrows and held out a hand. “Thank you, good sir,” Richard said, passing over his money. “Your kindness in protecting us while we slept is greatly appreciated. You are a godly man.” Silently, Alexis passed over her money. As the coins slipped from her grip, she signed in Thieves Cant, ripoff. The barman grinned widely. With a little prodding, Victor and Bastet also parted, grumbling, with their coins. "Now we’re all friends," Alexis said, "perhaps you can help us further. We’re looking for a ruined temple, somewhere deep in the desert. It’s rumoured to contain a portal to other worlds. Have you heard of such a place?” The barman shook his head. “I have not. But there is a man who sells maps from the marketplace. His name is Hassan. Perhaps he can point you the right way.” “Thank-” Alexis began, but stopped when the barman held out a hand, rubbing his thumb against his forefingers. “The desert is cruel,” he said. “A silver bit.” Alexis scowled. “Two copper is all that direction is worth, and we both know it.” The barman grinned as the copper coins landed in his hand. “Assamarra go with you, tree-child.”

Sound (Hearing)

Before she could get her answer, Richard came pounding over the hilltop. "She shall give it up over my dead body!" he roared, launching into the midst of the cultists, blade flashing in the sun. Fire roared from overhead, arrows zipped through the azure sky. Alexis felt like she’d blinked, and all the cultists lay dead, bleeding into the sand. “Greg damnit!” Alexis snapped, rushing over. “Why in the Pit did you kill them all? We could have gotten information from them. Like why they only wanted the dagger!” Muttering she began to riffle through the bodies for clues. “They… They were cultists,” Richard said, shrinking down. He toyed with the hilt of his sword. “Evil-doers. They were trying to kill you. You’re so small, and you hurt easily. I was just trying to keep you safe.” Alexis looked up, hearing the upset in his voice, and gave a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Thank you, for saving me. I just don’t understand why they wanted the dagger. It’s a piece of junk. I only wanted it because…” She shook her head. “I don’t know. I just wanted it.”

Space

"Arts, I want you to show these lubbers to their quarters, then report back to deck. We’ll be setting the sails in half a turn of the clock." "Aye, Cap’n. Passengers, if ye’d follow me?" the First Mate said, leading the way below decks to show them to two cabins. "Ladies, ye’ll be in here," Arts said, pointing to one. "Gents, this'll be your cabin." He pointed to another. "I'll leave ye get settled. It’d be appreciated if ye could stay in your quarters till the Oaken Rose is underway. Dinner will be shortly after then." With a nod, he left them to their quarters.

"Well this is cosy," said Bastet, as she and Alexis arranged themselves in the cabin. It was indeed a tiny space, with narrow bunks on one side and a small tin sink, recessed into a dresser, on the other. Opposite the door was a porthole, letting in the smallest amount of light, over which hung a hurricane lamp. "Mm," Alexis agreed.

➤ @the-writing-rat

Boiling

"Yes!" she said. "We have been sent to rid your menace from the face of Titan." To her surprise, Zagor laughed. "Oh my," he said, wiping away mock tears of mirth. "What an adorable notion. Whilst you all look the part, I doubt you have the skill. So you are welcome to try, but do not think you will succeed." "We have might and right on our side!" proclaimed Richard, raising his sword. "We cannot fail!" At that signal, he and Ithanor made their charge The villain’s smirk dropped and his black eyes became those of death. He flicked out a hand and the last thing Alexis felt was the hissing and boiling of an orange inferno headed straight for her.

Charity (Offering)

"Excuse me, good sir," Victor called up to the pirate. "We are looking to secure the services of a boat and a captain to take us to the continent of Khul, the new land of adventure. Might your good self be available for this service?" "’Sir’?" the pirate looked around as if confused, and his crew laughed. "Ain’t no ‘sir’s here. Ain’t none but us brigands and rouges." Alexis ground her teeth. The seaweed under the hot sun was pungent, the lack of beer from the ridiculous rules of this cesspit pounded at her head. “Your h'excellency might be in the wrong place, eh lads?” “Enough!” Alexis snapped. “Brigands and rouges it is, if you can’t even see your way clear to not making fun of someone offering you good manners. C’mon Vic, these fools aren’t fit to take us up the street, let alone to Khul in this rickety old tub.” She turned on her heel, marching away when the laughter ceased.

Puzzled

She sat down next to the former barbarian, his hair and attire neater than she had ever seen it. "So what of you, old friend?" she asked. "Business booming for you too?" "Oh aye," Ithanor said. "As if I wasn't busy enough with the repairs and upgrades on the town, they've got me drafted in building a host of new homes. All these new bodies want places to live." "That's excellent news." "Oh and," Ithanor said with a shy smile. "Roderick’s not the only one with a new addition to his life." "Oh?" Alexis gave a puzzled smile. "Yeah. I, ah, managed to find myself a wife as well. Very soon after you left actually. Her name is Maeve, and we’re expecting a child, late spring of next year." Ithanor fiddled with his tankard. "I’ve got us a cottage close to the northeast wall, if you ever want to pop on over."

Succinct (Terse)

It wasn’t until evening chow when the winds picked up, large globs of rain hammering into the deck and soaking through anyone foolish enough to not have an oilcloth. When Richard stood to offer a hand, Bloodbeard held out a hand, saying, "I do thank ye for yer help, these past weeks, and by the end of the voyage we'll have made crewmen of you, I’m sure. But for now, let my boys work. Go down to yer cabins, and kindly stay until the all clear’s been given." With a terse nod, Richard led the way below, the First Mate's orders receding as they did.

Weather

Eventually, Bloodbeard came below, his hat drooping with the weight of water and his beard hanging in a sodden mess as he put his head around the door of the larger cabin which they’d stuffed themselves into. "Ah, you’re all here. Good, good. We seem to be having a wee bit of a storm, lads and lassies. But ‘tis nought to worry about – this ol’ girl’s weathered her share of rough seas.” He patted the bulkhead. “It’ll just get a bit bumpy at times. If you could remain here for the time being, that’d be grand. Can’t be having you lubbers out on deck, under me crew’s feet while they try to save her…” Bloodbeard’s eyes darted, and he forced out a chuckle. “Or risk ye being swept off to the briny deep, eh?”

➤ @sleepyowlwrites

Settle

The dragon clapped its paws again. "One moment then, please." It stood on its hind legs, squeezing its eyes tightly shut. The sand around it kicked up in a sudden twisting wind, knocking Alexis over as the others coughed and struggled to shield their faces. The wind died as suddenly as it came, dust settling around a handsome man with golden-tanned skin in the clothes of a travelling merchant. Alexis blinked and Kypris winked at her, his eyes – slitted like a cat – flashed with copper flecks. "Neat trick," said Victor appraisingly.

Sideways (Open-sided)

"Thank you," she said. "We should find someplace to sit and study this thing… Wait a sec." Alexis stopped, looking around with a frown. "Where the hell did Bastet and Victor go?" Richard glanced around, a hand shading his eyes. "There." He pointed to where a group of people congregated around a low table. On dusty cushions sat Victor on one side, his competitor – a dark-skinned elf – on the other. On the table were a set of bone tiles and a large stack of cash. Victor, in his bright robes, was frowning down at his hand, while Bastet stood behind him, hands on his shoulders, cheering him on. "They appear to be playing a game.” Alexis squinted up at Richard. “For money." "Yes, thank you. I know what gambling is. They can use their money however they wish." "They’re probably cheating." Richard pursed his lips and huffed. “Be that as it may, the fate of the world takes precedence over the immoral actions of our friends.” He gestured to an open-sided tent. “Let’s get something to eat while we look at the map.” They took a seat under the awning within sight of the gambling table, and a waitress brought them a tray of hard cheeses, nuts and cured meats. ”I assume you know how to use the map to find the temple?” Richard asked. “If the map is good, then yes, easily," Alexis said.

Sound

Outside, the day was warming up quickly. The four of them wandered through the tented village in search of a marketplace. It wasn’t hard, following the sounds of hawkers and hagglers, to reach the center of the oasis and the packed market. Narrow lanes bordered with awnings and tents, were filled with people and livestock, braying and hollering. Trestles covered in a dazzling array of food and goods, bright fabrics – soft, diaphanous, silky – dangling from racks, piles of skin and fleeces. The smell was incredible: sizzling meats, perfumed flowers, woody spices, offal and dung. Bright fruits alongside mounds of powders in umber and terracotta. Weapons and clothes and scents Alexis could never have dreamed of in a million years, sold by people of all creeds, their dialects and languages swarming into one joyous conglomeration. It was like nothing she’d ever seen before. Alexis trailed along behind the others, dipping fingers into pots of spice to smell the strange new smells, running her eyes over glittering treasures, laughing and playfully batting away the small children who thrust trinkets and flowers at her.

A lull in the tumult of sounds made her pause. Something like a whisper, a gut-feel, a tickle on the back of her neck made her look back at the stall she’d just passed. Under a lean-to awning of red and yellow were stacks of chests, some open with the papers inside spilling out. "Guys?" Up ahead Richard looked back to see Alexis wandering back to a stall of some wordsmith. “Victor, Bastet! Alexis has found something,” Richard called out, with a huff adding, “I suppose her ‘treasure sense’ is tingling.” Richard returned to her side, as Alexis was scanning the stall. Crackling stacks of papyrus, held down by painted stones, and rolls of parchment lay across the stall’s table. Idly, she picked up one of the rolls, peeking at its contents – a map, of some kind.

Spacious (Space)

Alexis reached out to place a hand on her shoulder, but Bastet shrugged her off. "It’s okay," Alexis said. “You tried, at least.” "When we get out of here," Bastet hissed at her. "That one is mine." Alexis backed away to give her some space and went to find the elven woman. "Nassurae," Alexis said “Yes, sá itil?” "I don’t know night from day down here, but I’m told you do. If my friends and I are to free everyone, I need to be awake three hours before the guards come to take us back down the mines. Do you think, if I sleep now, you’ll be able to wake me on time?" Nassurae looked thoughtfully at the other elven women in the cell. Each nodded, gripping hands, their eyes alight with hope. “Yes,” Nassurae said. "We can accomplish this. We will take shifts and wake you when it is time." “Thank you. I’ll rest now.” Alexis glanced at Bastet. “I would recommend leaving my companion for now. She’ll sleep when she’s able, and I’ll rouse her when it’s time.” "Quiet dreams, eshen," Nassurae said, as Alexis lay down and closed her eyes.

Supposedly

CW Racial slur - black american

A rustle came from behind them, causing the group to turn. Richard and Ithanor drew their blades as a human and a black-skinned elf emerged from the scrub. "Who are you?" Ithanor demanded, levelling his blade at the newcomers. "Umm, hi?" said the drow. "Well?" Nathardrin said. The human stepped forward, brushing down his shabby robes. "My name is Victor, with a monocle. It seems we both have had the same idea: to sneak into Firetop Mountain and destroy the evil Zagor who lurks within." "And what are you supposed to be?" asked Richard pointing at the drow. "Some kind of pointy-ear coon?" The drow straightened, shoulders pulling back as she looked down her nose at Richard. "My name is Bastet," she said coldly. "Despite your manners, I, and my comrade here, wish to assist you with your venture into the fortress to defeat Zagor." "Oh really?" Alexis said. "Yazty-" She turned back to where the wizard had been standing, only to find the patch of rocky grass empty. "Oh. Well, I hope one of you’s a spell-slinger." "Indeed, little one. I am the mighty Victor with a Monocle!" said Victor, swaying a little. "I will astound you with great acts of wizardry and maybe even set alight to some things." "And I am a fighter of great renown," said the drow. Those from the militia shared dubious looks. "Well, there’s not much point us standing around debating it," said Nathardrin. "We may as well get on with this."

Sweep

(edited the word out for better prose)

As the stablehand led their mounts out, Victor slipped him a silver. "We were never here, okay?" he said. Wide-eyed, the boy nodded, grasping his broom and vanishing into the stalls to send out little puffs of straw dust.

➤ @drabbleitout

Soon enough their packs were ready and armour had been donned, and now they stood in the blustery morning, the dirt of the courtyard underfoot. To one side their mounts stood patiently, as Hengar ran through the lists of evils they may face: Goblins, orcs. A bugbear, if they were unlucky. While Alexis listened with half an ear, she studied the mounts with concern, and when the captain was finished, raised her hand. "Yes?" asked Hengar. "Sorry, Captain. None of those mounts are short enough for me to ride." "Do not worry, little one," Yaztromo said, coming from the door of the Town Hall, tugging on riding gloves. "We shan’t make you walk. You’re to ride with me, if that’s acceptable?" "Oh." Alexis flushed and dipped her head. "I’d be honoured." Hengar tilted his head at Yaztromo, his eyebrows raised. Yaztromo replied with an allowing flourish of his hand.

Bark (growl)

"What did you find?" Ithanor asked. Quickly, Alexis outlined the layout of the fort, the two sets of stairs, and the pattern of the patrolling goblins. "We should take them out," Richard said. "Are you stupid?" Alexis growled. "What part of 'stealth reconnaissance' did you not understand?" Richard blinked. "Uhhh…" Alexis could see on his face that he didn’t understand, but before she could snap the answer, Ithanor beat her to it. "It means we go sneaky-sneaky-sneaky," he said, pantomiming a person stepping carefully. "We can’t take them out because it’ll make too much noise, and risk them raising the alarm. We just have to be like little mice, trying to steal grain." "Oooh," Richard said, in a rising tone of understanding.

Borrow (scrounge)

Alexis rose closer to noon than she would have liked, rolling out of bed with a series of groans. Her head felt ten times heavier than usual, and her mouth was as dry as pound cake. Aside from the snoring of the night watch, the barracks were empty. Victor, she supposed, was still in the pub, but where Bastet and Richard were she had no idea. By the neat folds, Richard would have risen early. Bastet, on the other hand, might have woken just before Alexis by the state of her bed, or been just as hungover. After dunking her head into the water ewer, Alexis wandered down to the mess hall to see if she could scrounge up something to eat.

Dry

CW Blood

Zagor was sitting in a chair by his desk on the far side of the room. He smirked at them as they entered and fanned out. "So. You’ve come back for more?" he asked, his voice the rasp of two dry sticks being rubbed together. Slowly the lich unfolded himself from his chair, as Victor darted around to fire off a Magic Missile. Zagor’s robe singed, but the creature inside remained unharmed. While Richard and Ithanor charged in, Alexis and Bastet took up flanking manoeuvres. The battle was arduous, but between the five of them, they whittled the lich down until finally, the pale creature lay deformed in a pool of its own black blood.

Fine

Slowly the group made their way down to the ground floor, exiting through the now open front gate and into the fort’s courtyard. "Yaszty!" Alexis cried, spotting the wizard perched on the back of a wagon. She hurried over to him, the others trailing behind. "I am fine, little one," he said, raising a tired hand. "I assume you were successful?" Alexis nodded. "Yep, we got that bastard and his phylactery. Is Lieutenant Nazaretian around? We should report our success to him." Yaztromo hung his head, letting his shoulders slump. "Sadly, the Lieutenant perished in the battle, taken out by an uncannily well-aimed goblin arrow. The men here have nearly finished their clean-up efforts, so I shall be returning with them to Toreguard soon. I shall convey our success to Captain Hengar on my return.” He cast an eye over the group, taking in their dented armour and bloody scars. “You should take some time to rest before returning. Now the Firetop is free, there is no rush.”

Large

"It doesn’t look like they managed to crack the combination," Marag said, running her hands over the outside of the vault. "Good ol’dwarven engineering, that. Everything inside should still be there, then." With that, she began to finagle the door mechanism, until, with a soft noise like a sigh, it opened. Marag pulled open the door, and Alexis’ jaw dropped. The walls of the vault were lined with gold and platinum ingots. The floor was filled with chests, weapons racks and armour stands, upon which hung the most beautiful items – plates of pale, glistening, silvery metal; bladed hilts crafted with tiny jewels; crossbows engraved with strange runes. Magar stepped into the room, gesturing for the group to follow her. With no regard for the horde of treasures, she went to a chest pressed against the left wall and threw open the lid. Inside, nestled in neat rows on trays, were hundreds of gemstones. Maga scooped up a handful, and moving through the group, doled out a large ruby to each. "I hope this will be compensation enough f’helping us. And as advanced payment for taking out that velskkus, feel free to choose an item that’ll help you in your coming fight."

Mercy

"And how much will this map and information cost us?" she said, squinting. "Ah ha! I see the little miss is shrewd, as well as beautiful," Hassan said with a wink, and without breaking stride, added, "Three hundred gold pieces." Alexis gave him a flat look. "Fifty" "Fifty! No no, I can not go lower than two hundred, seventy-five." "One hundred, and you throw in a compass." She cast her eyes over the pile of treasures. A beautiful curved dagger with a jewelled hilt caught her eye. "And this." "All for one hundred golden bits? No no! Lady, you are crazy. That dagger is five hundred gold alone. Two hundred and twenty-five, and that is like cutting my own throat." "Please," Alexis scoffed. "That dagger is thirty at most. You think I can’t spot coloured glass just because the sun’s brighter here? Two hundred and twenty-five for the map, information, the compass and dagger, and one misdirect should anyone ask about us or our destination. Agreed?" Hassan threw up his hands. "Gods have mercy on me! Beautiful, shrewd and cruel, tsh." He shook her hand. "It is agreed."

New

Twilight was falling, the sky banded with pastel rainbow shades, as Alexis returned from the market with her haul of fresh supplies. As she walked along the dirt track towards the pub chomping on a newly harvested apple, she passed a pair of elders gossiping over a fence about some scandal from a few villages over. She slowed down to listen in as one of them complained about the reign of terror from a monstrous elf who claimed to be a paladin. Back at the inn, Alexis knocked on the gent’s door. “Heads up,” Alexis said, tossing him an apple. Richard glanced up from where he was trying to buff out the dents in his armour and caught it with one hand. “Ah, we haven’t had apples in ages.” He sniffed the skin. “Makes me feel a little homesick. How was the market?” he asked, placing the apple aside and returning to his armour. “About that,” Alexis began. Richard’s head shot up. “No, not the market. The market was fine. I got everything we needed. I meant, um. The village you’re from. What was it called again?” “High Creek. Why?” Alexis bit her lip. “Um.” Richard’s brown eyes creased in concern and he set aside his work. “Alexis?”

Peel (skins)

"Hey," Bastet said, calling her back to reality. "I think there's someone in here." Alexis looked over to see Bastet peering through the bars of the cell door. "Hello?" Bastet called through them. From the other side of the door came a blistering string of curses in a harsh language. "Whaddaya dirty green-skins want with me now?" the voice said in common. "I think it is a dwarf," Bastet said, glancing at Alexis. "Whaddaya mean, ye think it be a dwarf?" asked the voice mockingly. "I most definitely am a dwarf, ye lousy stinkers." Alexis shrugged at Bastet. "Sounds like a dwarf, yeah." "You can pick locks, right?" Bastet asked. "Yes. You go get the others, and I will let the very angry dwarf out of his nasty cell." "'His'! I'm very much a ‘her’, ye cretin." Bastet tilted her head. Alexis nodded, making shooing motions. Baset shrugged. "That’s right," the angry female dwarf called, as Bastet hurried off to find their comrades. "You’d better run, ya mangey beskur!" "Hey, enough with the name-calling," Alexis said, looking up from her investigation of the lock. "You keep that up, and you can stay in there." "Och! Now I’ve heard everything. Yon gobbo thinks keeping me in here’s a threat!" "I’m not a gobbo. I’m eshen." "What’s that?" Alexis sighed, spitting the word. "A woodling." "A woodling? Tch! Can’t be. Woodlings never come out the Darkwood." "Well, this one did. Now will you please be quiet so I can concentrate."

Work

Tentatively, Ithanor moved forward, placing a hand on a tall warhammer. As if that was their signal, the others moved forward, selecting what they wanted. Richard selected a suit of plate mail, Nathardin a recurve bow, and new swords each for Bastet and Victor. "Excuse me," Alexis said as Marag was finishing up with Victor. "I don’t see anything smaller than dwarf-size…" "Ah, now, let’s see. What’re you after, hen? A weapon or armour?" "Armour, if possible?" Maga squinted thoughtfully. "Aye, aye. I’ve got just the thing for a quarter-pint. A masterwork project it is, and a bit of an experimentation for the crafter. I doubt he ever thought it’d be worn." Marag chuckled, pulling from a chest a beautiful set of supple black leather armour, studded with that pale, glimmering metal. "Aye, this should see you right well, hen." Quickly Alexis changed. The armour fit like it was made for her. She grinned at Marag. "Thank you."

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axwalker · 3 years

Text

Creep 2: I don’t care if it hurts

HIGH SCHOOL AU

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Lexie O’Brien) Book TRR

MASTERLIST HERE

Synopsis: Drake and Lexie are star-crossed lovers. Her father hates him and forces Lexie to stop any contact with Drake. Lost and heartbroken, he “bullies” her for two years until he discovers the truth of Lexie’s behavior.

A/N 1 This came up to me after I got an ask from @nestledonthaveone to write a fic based on the song CREEP.

I used to hear this song when I was a teenager, so when I read this ask, I immediately wanted to write something angsty but situated in high school.

A/N 2: Because they’re younger than usual, I decided to change my FC.

Words: 4,110

WARNINGS: Parental abuse, domestic violence, toxic love.

THIS IS NOT YOUR USUAL MARSHMALLOW DRAKE. He was abandoned as a boy, he’s tortured and he doesn’t know how to express his love. His behavior is not excusable.

This is a dark love story. If you’re not comfortable with it, PLEASE do not read it.

ALL MY FICS ARE 18+

TAGS ON THE COMMENTS

As this is darker than usual; I’m only tagging the people who commented in the previous chapter. If you want to get on or off the list for this fic, please do not hesitate to ask!!

DRAKE

Even if she never looks at me or speaks to me again, she’s mine. Even if I’ve been a horrible jerk to her for two years and she pales every time I pull into the parking lot on my motorcycle, she is mine. Just seeing her with him enrages me, so I walk straight toward my usual seat, directly behind Lexie, and slam my textbook down onto the desk.

Startled, Rys looks up at me, “Hey, Walker. What’s up?”

It’s not the first time he tries to make a move on Lexie. Last time –two years ago, we almost killed each other. Pretty boy might be an entitled ass, but he knows how to fight. Maybe he thinks Lexie is game again after all this time. He couldn’t be more wrong.

“Don’t you have a class this period?” I ask him. Liam cocks his left eyebrow, adjusting the straps of his backpack.

“I fail to see why that concerns you, Creep.”

My smile is murderous. “Get the fuck out of here before I break your face, pretty boy.”

I think he has a death wish because he looks at Lexie when he talks, “See you after class, Alexis, when your watchdog will be busy mowing my lawn.” Finally, he just shakes his head and gets out of the classroom. I resume my daily routine. Staring at the back of Lexie’s head, tracing the curve of her perfect neck, my cock getting hard over her perfect cherry scent.

“So that’s what you like,” I say, leaning forward to speak an inch from her ears. “You like them with blond hair and pink polo shirts. Prospects for Cambridge or shit. A huge trust fund. Don’t you? A brat like you needs someone who can spoil her. I bet you’d introduce him to daddy, wouldn’t you?”

She doesn’t respond. She never does. Her eyes stay stubbornly on the front of the class where the teacher has started writing today’s lesson on the board—my hands fist in desperation. I’m dying for her to talk to me. To look at me. Anything. “Too bad, Lexie. I’ll scare every single one of those fucking entitled boys off. You’re going to sit alone in your house on prom night, crying into your designer sheets like a baby. And I’m going to enjoy it.”

The only sign that she hears me at all is the quickening rise and fall of her shoulders. Even that tiny display that I’ve upset her is agonizing, floods me with self-loathing, but I can never stop. She ripped out my fucking heart, and I can’t deal with the consequences of that alone. I can’t let her go. I’ll never let her go. This toxic feeling is the only thing left between us. My hands shake with the urge to take her in my arms, to stop the trembling I caused. To protect her from everything. Even myself. I’d love to move my fingers up into the silky, brown hair that reaches the middle of her graceful neck. I don’t have a lot of money; most of the cash I earn as a handyman goes to food and fixing my dad’s cabin, but I’d give every last cent for her to turn and lock those soft brown eyes on me, just one last time. Sometimes when I jerk off, all it takes is fantasizing about Lexie looking at me, giving me one of those shy smiles, and I lose it. One stroke. Maybe two. Done. I can’t breathe without having her close. And I can’t breathe with her close. It’s a strange condition, this obsession, but she’s an addiction that I just can’t give up.

How could I? She’s intelligent, strong, and so damned gorgeous. Once upon a time, I thought she had a good heart too. But that was before she broke my pathetic heart only because I’m poor. I’ve been hurting since then, and I need her to hurt too. To know what it feels.

“Do you actually think that dumb rich boy would be a good choice for your first time, Lexie?” I grip my desk so tight it nearly breaks down, just thinking about her being kissed –touched by someone else. “At least that’s one thing us poor motherfuckers have going for us. We know how to fuck. If you went out with Rys for a while, you’d eventually give in and come slumming it one night, wouldn’t you? Knock on my rundown cabin door, begging me to fuck you as we both know you’d like.”

A pretty blush is starting to climb her neck. I have to take a deep breath to keep from kiss her pink cheeks. But I think if I got to touch her skin, my wall of bullshit would crumble. I’ve only fucked one girl. Since seeing Lexie for the first time freshman year, there’s been no one but her. I want no one else. She owns my cock as sure as she owns my heart. How easily she’s forgotten about both leaving me in agony.

“Stop,” she breathes. I freeze. Did she just speak to me? It’s the first time in two years that she’s even remotely acknowledged my existence.

“Lexie,” I managed to say. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. That’s all it took. One pleading word out of her mouth, and I’m done.

“Just stop,” she says again, turning her head slightly. “Please.”

I fall back in my chair, my heart thundering on my chest. If we weren’t in the middle of class, if I didn’t feel like a monster, I would pull her into my arms right now. I’d hug her until she stopped struggling, then beg her to hit me, bruise me, make me pay for every shitty thing I’ve ever said to her. But before long, the class is over, and she’s leaving the classroom to get out of here. To put distance between us as quickly as possible—and I have no choice but to watch her because I feel physically ill. Still, I manage to get out into the student-packed hallway, my plan to apologize for being crude and a jerk and torturing her for so long.

My head is telling me not to apologize, though. It’s telling me she deserved it for being such a snob, for breaking me, for valuing money and status like everyone else. My damned heart is telling an entirely different story. It’s insisting there is an explanation for her behavior. Am I going to apologize or not? The decision is taken out of my hands when Lexie opens her locker, and the little gift I left before class falls down. It’s a picture I cut out from our last yearbook. In the photo is a gorgeous smiling Lexie above the caption Most Likely to Succeed. Except I’ve crossed out the caption and added my own. Most Likely to Be a Trophy Wife. Watching her read it, I almost get sick right there in the hallway. Usually, she’s perfectly composed, not betraying a trace of emotion where I’m concerned—a real Ice queen. I’ve always thought she honestly didn’t care. Today, though… she’s not pulling it off. Something is not okay with her, and I don’t like it. She has to bite down on her bottom lip to stop it from quivering as she puts the photo back into her locker, out of sight, her bright eyes finding me briefly, massacring me where I stand. Betraying with one single look how much she has been affected by my actions. Christ. She hasn’t been indifferent at all.

Before I can react, before I can call her name, she’s gone, vanished into the crowd of wild students excited to be leaving for the day. And I know what I have to do. I have to see her. To apologize. To get an explanation for everything. Tonight. I’ll return to her house for the first time in two years.

LEXIE

I’ve known this was coming all day. Sitting on the couch in my living room, trying to make myself as small as possible, I watch my father pace. He rants, gesticulating noisily. This isn’t new, my father’s rage threatening me. But it’s going to be worse than usual. Business has declined for him and it’s put his temper on a trigger. Dad’s new wife, Nancy, hates to be on a budget, and she’s been spending his money like crazy all over Paris --where she’s now. When dad gets home from the office, he’s rarely in anything but a horrible mood. A tornado eating up everything in its path. Completely terrifying. At least dad’s temper makes me forget what Drake told me today, the ugly words he said to me, the boiling anger in his eyes when he looks at me.

“Are you even listening?” The slap across the face comes as a shock because I’d momentarily disappeared into my thoughts, but the sting quickly brings me back to reality.

“Yes, sir,” I say, my ears ringing. “I’m listening.”

“This C on your algebra test is going to drag your whole average down.” He’s waving the test in my face. “What a disappointment you are, Alexis. Your teacher shared my disgust.” I nod solemnly, but I’m listening for the rain outside. “I guess you’re your daughter’s mother after all. A poor Mexican girl who could barely count.” It’s not true. My mom learned English and Greek by herself, and she was a great Spanish teacher in Portavira, but my father would rather die than acknowledge how smart she was.

“Don’t talk like that about her,” I retort.

My father snorts. “I beg your pardon?” He takes a step towards me, and I can see the threat in his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” I hate to be such a coward, but I know what he can do to me.” I’ll do extra credit. Something to bring my grade back up to an A.” I wet my lips. “Even if I can��t manage to raise the grade, it’s not going to show up on the college transcripts I sent off with my applications.” That’s the reason I let my focus slip a little in algebra. The finish line is in sight for everyone, and we’re just waiting to find out where we’ll be accepted for college. It’s a wonder I’ve been able to maintain my focus this long in any class, considering Walker sits behind me in every period, brooding making me feel … something. At the reminder of him, I want to close my eyes and dream about him. I replay that night in my garden when he kissed me two years ago, so tenderly and passionately, when he spoke to me so sweetly and honestly before he became the second villain in my story. Someone I dread, as much as I crave the sight of him.

At least that’s one thing us poor motherfuckers have going for us. We know how to fuck. If you went out with that punk for a while, you’d eventually give in and come slumming it one night, wouldn’t you? Knock on my trailer door, begging me to ride you right.

Should I be ashamed of the way my body reacted to those words? I grew uncomfortably damp in the hard plastic chair, the center of my body clenching, seeming to beat like a heart. His breath on my neck made me shiver, head to toe. Even the way he scared off Liam Rys did something to me. Aroused me. Deeply. It got so bad that I broke the rules and asked him to stop. I can still hear him saying my name in that tortured way after. That shocked, uneven sound. Lexie. And whether I’m ashamed of myself for it or not, I know I’ll think of it when I touch myself tonight. His voice, his hands, his eyes obsess me.

“College?” My father snorts, tearing the test in half. “You’re not going to college.”

This grabs my attention. A horrible feeling is making me cold. “I’m…what? What do you mean? I applied to nine different schools. I have a four-point five GPA.”

For the first time, I notice his red face is about more than just rage. There’s…humiliation. I’ve never seen him display that emotion.

“None of the American colleges that accepted you offered scholarships.”

“I’ve been accepted?” I gasp, sitting forward, heart pounding in my chest. “Where? I didn’t see the letters—”

“All the mail in this house goes through me, Alexis. I read them. And you failed to get academic scholarships. You failed. Not that I’m surprised.”

I don’t point out that his refusal to let me participate in any extracurricular activities is more than likely to blame for that. I’m too worried about what he’s saying, what this means. The blood is draining from my head, making the room spin around me.

“Okay, I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry. But…we have money. We can pay tuition, can’t we? Or colleges in Cordonia are almost for free. I can go to any of them; I don’t have to go to NYU.” I have to get out of here. I have to get out of here. This is my way out. College is the escape route. I counted on going back to New York, but I can stay here and go to college in Cordonia City.

“Listen to you, so quick to spend my hard-earned money—spoiled brat. And of course, you can’t go to college in Cordonia. What for? To end up being a schoolteacher like your mom? A housewife as Nancy?” He laughs bitterly. “No, you’ll stay here, and I’ll help you find someone suitable to marry.”

I shake my head. “There’s financial aid, then. Loans or I can get a job and go to college in Portavira…”

“You want to leave, just like her, don’t you? You’re all the same.”

I don’t even flinch when he yanks me to my feet, shoving me into the wall. In fact, for the first time, I took him right into his eyes. And I can see the violence burning on them has nothing to do with me. It never had anything to do with how I behave, my choices, how hard I worked in school. How welcome I made Nancy feel or cooked a roast. It’s about him and his self-loathing. It’s his sickness. Not mine. I can also see that he was never going to send me to college. Because he wouldn’t be able to control me from a distance or stop me from sharing what I’ve been subjected to since my mother died. Not like he does now. He wasn’t physically abusive all the time. Especially not when his new wife is around. But she traveled often, and then he’d push me. Shove me. Slapped me several times. I’ll graduate at the top of my class for nothing. He knew I would all along.

That’s when I realize I’m free. I don’t have money, but college is free in Cordonia. I can work, save a little and go to college in one or two years. I’ll be a writer; it’ll just take more time than I thought. “Go to hell,” I whisper.

He steps back, giving me the momentary satisfaction of his shock. “What did you say?”

Liberated, I scream it this time. “Go to hell!” From the moment I sat down to have this conversation, I knew tonight would be worse than usual, but I’ve just bought myself a ticket to hell. Usually, I can retreat to the untouchable place inside of me as he unleashes his rage, but not tonight. He doesn’t stop at one or two slaps. He punches and kicks, and I’m present for every punch and kick. Every yelled insult. Finally, I start to get scared. I’m crawling across the carpet on my hands and knees, searching for a weapon I can use in my defense when I glance out the window and see Drake staring back at me, his face a mask of horror.

Drake

What I’m seeing just isn’t possible. It can’t be real. My head won’t accept it. Not until her terror-filled eyes meet mine through the window and the truth pounds on my chest, leaves no doubt that this is real life. Lexie’s father is beating her. Her mouth is bloody, one of her eyes beginning to swell, arms and legs visibly weakened. I can barely fucking process it before my body is springing into action, desperate to protect her. To put a stop to the worst thing I have ever seen. What the fuck. Scorching hot rage takes over. I kick in the front door and throw myself between Lexie and her father. His fist is raised, but it pauses when he sees me, his momentary confusion giving me the time I need to knock him out cold. It only takes one right uppercut from someone his own size, and he goes down, his blank, glassy eyes staring at nothing, mouth opened. It’s not satisfying enough.

Nothing will ever be satisfying enough. I want to kill him, destroy him, but my Lexie is struggling for breath behind me, and she’s all I can think about. Turning, I approach her, my heart threatening to jump off my chest. As gently as I can, I catalog all of the cuts and purpling skin. No. No. Who could do this to her? Who could lay a finger on her in anything but reverence? Get her out of here. Calling her name, I reach down to pick her up, but she flinches and hurries back, bringing her body up against the wall.

“Don’t touch me!” Those words filled with fear rip the soul clean out of my body. My hands drop limply to my sides and two years come rushing back, hitting me in the chest like a hammer. Every word, every action. Everything I did to make her life harder when this is what she’s been dealing with at home? Fuck me.

“Lexie…” My voice is as kind as I can. I feel broken. “I’m sorry. I came here to apologize. For everything.”

She puffs a humorless laugh, testing her cut lip with the tip of her tongue. “Bet you weren’t expecting to see this.”

“If I knew this was happening, I would have been here a long time ago. I would have stopped it. I swear Lex.”

Her expression can only be described as stunned. Maybe even a little pissed. “You are not my savior, Drake. You are my enemy. You’ve been for two years, and I want nothing else from you now.”

“I am not your enemy.” Those words barely make it out of me, my chest hurts so fucking bad. “Don’t say that.”

Unsteadily, she uses the wall to try and stand. I try to help her, but she recoils, and it’s a dagger straight into the center of my throat. Nothing less than I deserve, though, isn’t it? Her distrust of me is entirely my fault. I’ve made her hate me. There has to be some way to fix what I’ve done. Please God, let there be away. But right now, my main concern is her physical safety. Knowing she’s been in danger all along is unbearable. I only decided to come here tonight a few hours ago. What if I didn’t? What if I arrived an hour later? The possibilities are going to haunt me for the rest of my life. From the floor, her father groans, shifting slightly.

“We need to get you out of here,” I say, anxious to get her free of this place. “Now, Lexie. I need to get you somewhere safe.”

She’s standing now. Leaning against the wall and cradling one arm to her stomach, regarding me warily. “How do I know I’m safe with you?” It’s so much worse that her question is honest. Not meant to hurt me. She honestly doesn’t know if I pose a threat. It guts me where I stand.

“You are the safest with me,” I say thickly, cursing myself. Wanting to erase the last two years so badly, my hands shake. “Please believe me. I’d die before hurting you. I’d never, Lexie. I’d never do something like that.”

Her father rolls over onto his back and slurs a few words before losing consciousness again. Still, the sound of the older man’s voice seems to scare Lexie, “I…maybe you can just give me a ride to…a motel maybe?” She pushes off the wall, her step uneven as she walks toward the stairs. “I need some things from my room.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her we don’t have time, but I’m just grateful she’s trusting me enough to leave with me, so I don’t argue. I just wait until she’s halfway up the stairs, then tie her father’s hands behind his back with my belt in case he wakes up before we leave. I have no problem knocking him out a second time, but Lexie has seen enough violence for one night. Cautiously, I walk up the stairs toward the light coming from a room halfway down the hall. This place is a far cry from my home. It’s elegant and clean, and tasteful, but it lacks any warmth whatsoever. It’s cold, like a museum. Turning the corner into Lexie’s room, it’s time to hate myself all over again. There is nothing on the walls, none of the expensive furnishings. Just four white walls, a bed, and a dresser that doubles as a desk. Several textbooks. She looks back at me over her shoulder as if judging my reaction, and I keep my features impassive, though I’m dying on the inside.

“What can I do?” I ask.

“How long do we have?”

“As long as you need.” It’s physically painful not to pull her into my arms when I’m standing this close, and she’s hurt. Sad. Yet full of more inner strength than I’ve ever witnessed in another human being. I’m lucky just to be in her presence. I fucked up royally. And if she allows me back in, I’ll never do it again. It’s probably, definitely, too much to hope for. Being allowed back in. She doesn’t even look sure about having me in her room. Let alone her heart. I was trying to protect my own heart, but I lost it instead.

“Um…” She closes her eyes to focus, a familiar trait I’ve seen in class countless times. “There is a black bag in the hallway closet. Can you just stuff anything into it from the bathroom that looks useful?”

Ask me to bring you a unicorn. I’ll find a way to do it. “Sure.” We work in silence, Lexie taking things out of drawers and adding them to the bag, which I’ve left open on the floor. I add toiletries from the bathroom, and once it’s zipped, I wait, watching her hesitate in the doorway.

“Lexie?” Conflicted chocolate eyes meet mine.

“I can’t just leave, can I?”

“You’re not safe here, baby,” I say softly, trying to keep the residual rage at bay because it’s the last thing she needs. Not to mention she’s had her fill with negativity from me. No more. “How long…how long?”

She shrugs, the saddest expression in her eyes. “My mom died five years ago. Ever since then, it’s gotten worse and worse. Although I never had a chance to talk to anyone about what happened behind closed doors, you know? I don’t think a person can evolve into a monster. It’s inside him.”

“I don’t know,” I say. “I became one, didn’t I?”

That gives her pause, forms a line between her delicate brows. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

She starts to walk past me, stops, standing close enough to fill my nose with cherry. “He told me if I ever spoke to you ever again, he would hurt me. Ruin you, have you evicted. Make sure you never got hired again. I didn’t mean to…hurt you. Or hurt your feelings, if that’s what happened.”

That revelation destroys me, sets me on fire. “Jesus, Lexie. You were protecting me? And I…I tortured you for it?” I twist the neck of my T-shirt, trying to calm down, but it doesn’t work. I’ll never be calm again “I’m so fucking sorry.”

She glances at the doorway, then back at me, eyes closed again in that way that says she’s thinking. “All I want from you now is a ride out of here, okay? And on Monday morning, you’ll stop.” She opens her shining eyes again. “No more bullying, Drake. If you’re really sorry, you’ll do that for me.”

Fuck. I couldn’t say one more single shitty thing to her if my life depended on it. Put me at gunpoint, and I’d rather get shot at than torture this girl for one more second. But I’m highly, painfully aware that with an end to the bullying comes an end to the possessiveness. No more scaring off guys who show interest in her. No more getting close enough in class to count the hairs on her head, to smell her sweet fragrance. And to tell the truth, I’m pretty fucking worried I don’t know how to give those things up completely. I don’t think I can physically do it. This addiction with Lexie isn’t something I can cut off. A leg would be easier to sever. But my hesitation is causing her eyes to worry. If I don’t agree to, essentially, let her go… she’s not going anywhere with me. And that means her safety won’t be guaranteed. I need it to be. More than anything.

“No more bullying,” I say, finally. A moment later, I follow her out of the room and down the stairs, trying desperately to count the hairs on her head before I no longer have the chance.

#tw domestic violence #toxic relationship #tw bullying

67 notes · View notes

keanubot · 5 years

Text

I Love You Like The Sun Came Out (Keanu Reeves/Reader) Chapter 3

sorry for another bit of a wait on this one, thank you all so much as usual for being so patient 💖 i promise i have so much planned for this fic its ridiculous, so if i’m ever a bit late with the posting it doesn’t have anything to do with me not wanting to write it, don’t worry.

warnings for this chapter: none

You start packing immediately after hanging up the phone, not even bothering to get dressed as you pull things from your closet and shove them into your travel bag. As you pack, you attempt to process exactly what’s even happening right now; you’ve really been asked by Keanu Reeves himself if you want to move into his house. Two weeks ago you hadn’t even wanted this job, and now suddenly you’re so incredibly grateful that you got it. In what other world would you get an opportunity like this to get away from your roommates and actually have some time to yourself for once? You’re already fantasizing about all the rehearsing you’ll get to do without ears pressed against doors, without being told “Well, what if you did it this way instead?”, without constantly feeling like you’re in a never-ending competition.

It feels amazing.

You quickly shower and pack up your bathroom items, then head downstairs with your bags and peek into the kitchen to see what awaits you. All three of your roommates are sitting at the kitchen table, although only Becca and your third roommate Hayley are talking; Alexis sits across from them on her phone, clearly ignoring the conversation. Hayley and Alexis are the ones who haven’t spoken to each other in at least a month after Hayley won a role they’d both gotten to the final auditions for. You’ve never seen such dramatic passive aggressiveness in your life.

You place your bags quietly by the front door and then head back to the kitchen, not wanting to announce your news until you absolutely have to; you know there’s going to be a lot of questions and you don’t even know how to answer them at this point. No one talks to you when you enter, so you fill up the kettle and start preparing your morning cup of tea, hoping they don’t notice when you take the whole box of tea bags down from the cupboard so you can add it to your bag. You’re the only one who drinks it anyway.

Speaking of which…you can’t remember if Keanu has a kettle at his house. As soon as the water is finished boiling you add it to your mug and quickly drain the rest in preparation to take it with you.

Just as your tea is finished steeping, Becca gets up from the table, “Well, I’m going for my run.”

“Have fun.” Hayley replies, looking down at her phone.

Alexis briefly looks up to give Hayley a dirty look before going back to whatever she’s doing. God, you can’t wait to get away from this.

Becca leaves the room and about ten seconds later she rushes back, expression confused, “Who’s leaving?!”

“What?” Alexis finally speaks, putting her phone down, “Leaving?”

“Someone’s bags are in front of the door,” Becca explains, voice anxious, “Are one of you guys moving out because a group meeting definitely wasn’t called and if you’re leaving without giving us a warning, that’s fucked up.”

You try not to roll your eyes, taking a sip of tea before licking your lips and sighing, “They’re mine,” everyone looks at you and you can practically hear them gasping internally, “I’m not moving out though, I’m still paying rent. I’m just gonna go stay somewhere else for a few weeks.”

Becca looks at you as if you have three heads, “Somewhere else? Where?”

Before you can answer, Hayley chimes in, “Somewhere closer to Keanu’s house? Because of all the driving?”

You’re honestly surprised that someone’s been paying attention, and Hayley’s assumption gives you a new way out of all the dreaded questions.

“Yeah,” you lie, nodding, “One of the other girls from the housekeeping service said I can stay at her house for a little while. She’s, um, going away for a bit. A vacation or something.” For an actress, you’re not the most amazing liar, but they seem to be buying it, “It’s only about a ten minute drive from Keanu’s.”

“Must be a nice house, then.” Alexis mutters bitterly, and you can feel her jealousy radiating from where she’s sitting; cleaning Keanu’s house was one thing, but moving somewhere nicer to do it? She’s annoyed. As mean as it sounds, her irritation makes you feel a bit smug.

“I’m gonna take the kettle with me, if you don’t mind,” you’re not sure why you’re asking for permission – you’re the one who bought it after all – but you feel bad for lying.

Becca waves her hand, “Oh, go ahead, you know none of us use it.”

“So, you’ll still pay your part of the rent? Next Friday?” Hayley asks, and you nod.

“Yep, don’t worry about it, I got it covered.”

Just as you say this, your phone rings – Keanu’s assistant. You excuse yourself from the kitchen and walk to the front door to escape the listening ears behind you. Your call is brief – she tells you that your rental is ready and you plan for it to be waiting outside your apartment as soon as possible.

She also tells you that Keanu actually did end up picking it himself, which admittedly makes you nervous as hell.

-----

An hour later, after scrolling through some casting calls and responding to a few e-mails, a car pulls up outside. You’re the first to see it, and you feel your heart drop to your stomach when you see how nice it is; it’s definitely expensive, and definitely not like anything you’ve ever driven before.

“Whose car is that?” Hayley is beside you before you can even process everything, and you splutter a bit before replying.

“Um – uh, mine, I think,” you get up and slide into your shoes, eyes glued to the car, “It’s a rental.”

“How the fuck can you afford an Audi?!” Alexis asks, suddenly standing on the other side of you looking confused.

Before you can reply, Becca appears in the doorway, back from her run with a shocked expression on her face, “Is that for you?”

You really hate attention, absolutely despise it, actually – which certainly isn’t what you’d expect considering the profession you’ve chosen – and all the eyes of your prying roommates being on you makes you feel incredibly uncomfortable. You pick your bags up off the floor, slipping past Becca and walking out to the front step.

“I’ll talk to you guys soon.” you say, with every intention to do the exact opposite. You turn around and walk quickly to the car, the driver getting out and helping you put your bags in the trunk. You don’t look back at your roommates, knowing full well they’re already talking about you.

The drive to Keanu’s house is relatively quiet – you don’t really know what to say and you’re also extremely distracted by how luxurious the interior of the car is; Alexis had said Audi, and your very, very limited knowledge of cars tells you that it’s a pretty high quality brand. It’s sleek, with a black exterior and interior, and the number of gadgets on the dashboard is already overwhelming – and you’re not even the one driving.

The driver does say a few things throughout the drive, telling you that all your necessary information for the insurance has already been forwarded by Keanu’s assistant. According to him, you have the car for 2 months, which is more than enough time to get your car fixed. It can’t be cheap to rent a car this nice for that long, and you spend most of the drive simply marveling at Keanu’s generosity.

You pull up to Keanu’s house and quickly sign a few documents for the driver, who hands you the keys and then gets out to walk over to the other car in the driveway – his associate. You watch them back down the driveway before disappearing down the road.

And that’s it. Suddenly, you’re sitting completely alone in a beautiful car in front of a beautiful house that you will be living in for the next few beautiful weeks. It honestly feels like a dream you hope you never wake up from. It’s crazy to think that you’d initially never even wanted to apply for this job. Hoo boy.

You carry your bags inside and immediately come to the realization that you have no idea where you’re sleeping. Obviously Keanu’s bedroom is out of the question, so you know there are two guest rooms to choose from. There’s a small one on the left side of the house, closer to the garage, and there’s one across the hall from Keanu’s room, a lot bigger with a jacuzzi in the en suite bathroom. The choice is pretty easy, so you bring your stuff to the room and start unpacking.

It’s been tempting the past two weeks to try out one of the beds, but obviously it had been incredibly inappropriate and you hadn’t dared. Now, however, there’s absolutely nothing stopping you. With a sly smile, you fall backwards onto the bed, the black and red blankets enveloping you as you sink into the soft mattress. You’re not sure if you’ve ever laid on something this comfortable in your life. Oh my god…this is heaven.

You’re not sure how it happens exactly, seeing as you only woke up not long ago, but the sudden relief and relaxation you feel sends you into unconsciousness pretty quickly.

-----

The sound of footsteps in another part of the house wakes you up a few hours later, and you practically fall over trying to get off the bed. You hear distant voices, none of them recognisable, and for a moment you’re terrified that you left the door unlocked and accidentally let fans or paparazzi into the house. But no, you distinctly remember locking the door, so it must be someone who has a key.

You walk out into the main hallway and see two men placing bags on the floor – groceries. One of them turns and heads back out to grab more, while the other notices you and gives you a smile, reaching his hand out.

“You must be the housekeeper,” he says with a charming smile, then pulls his hand away and points to himself, “Gardener.”

“Oh, nice to meet you.” You tell him your name and he smiles wider.

“I’m Jay. Sorry for letting myself in, I usually just stay outside but this guy was knocking and I had to let him in.”

“Totally fine,” you say with a reassuring nod, “I didn’t even hear him, so…”

You both stand there a bit awkwardly for a second before the grocery man re-enters and places the last few bags on the floor, “Have a nice day.” He says before walking back outside and getting in his truck.

“Let me help you with those.” Jay says as you reach down, and you feel yourself sigh internally – you came to this house to be alone.

Even though you’d rather he just go back to his duties, you figure he has just as much of a right to be here as you do, considering he’s been working here longer than you. Plus, he seems harmless. You both carry the groceries into the kitchen and Jay begins to pull items out when you put your hand up to stop him.

“No, that’s okay! I’ll do it, seriously, it’s my job,” you try to say it without sounding like you want him to leave, but he sees right through you.

“You wanna be alone,” he says with a laugh, and before you can interrupt he laughs again, “No, it’s fine, I get it. But it was really nice meeting you!” he backs away, winking one of his blue eyes at you, “I’ll see you around. I’m here once a week so we’ll bump into each other again.”

He’s got a very flirty vibe surrounding him that you’re not really feeling, but you toss him a smile, “See ya.”

As soon as you hear the front door shut, you sigh in relief and begin to put away the groceries, trying to figure out where everything goes. Keanu doesn’t have that much in any of the cupboards – you suppose there’s no need for him to keep it stocked when he’s away.

He doesn’t have many magnets on the fridge but he does have those word ones, the ones you can mix and match to make sentences and poems with. The words have been scrambled since you arrived, no poem or sentence discernible, and now that you’re staying in the house for a little while, it doesn’t feel as weird to put one together.

Once all the groceries are put away you spend a few moments standing in front of the fridge, pulling and pushing the magnets back and forth with your tongue between your lips, trying to come up with something good. In the end, you end up with this:

Please be quiet I am busy being alone.

“I mean…it’s fitting.” You say aloud to no one in particular.

-----

After feeding the fish and doing a few things here and there, the urge to test out that amazing bath in your bedroom becomes way too strong. You soon find yourself kneeling beside it, dipping two fingers in the water to test it before standing and beginning to undress. At first you have to admit that it feels a little bit creepy to be taking a bath in the house of someone you’ve never met – not to mention even creepier once you’re naked – but there’s a slight thrill in it too. You have to keep reminding yourself that you’re allowed to be doing what you’re doing; Keanu wants you to be here.

(Yeah, definitely a thrill.)

As soon as you’re submerged in the hot water you feel immediately at peace, closing your eyes and leaning your head back. After a few moments of relaxation you reach for the mug of tea resting on the side of the tub and take a long sip, putting it down again when your phone suddenly dings. You pick it up and see an e-mail notification.

It only takes a few seconds to realize that it’s from your agency, notifying you that you’ve booked an audition for another commercial. You bite your lip, skipping through most of it to see what you’ll be advertising: dish soap. Great. You put your phone back down and completely submerge yourself in the water.

----

You spend the rest of the day puttering around Keanu’s house, not really doing anything in particular but also not wanting to stay in one place. You find yourself by the koi pond a lot, watching them and trying your hardest not to name more of them, though you’re pretty sure one of the orange and black ones is a definitive Nemo.

The couch in the living room is extremely comfortable, and in your solitude you end up somehow managing to take another nap. You hadn’t realized how much stress being in that house with those girls has caused you; finally having a chance to be away from them is already doing wonders.

You wake up to another email, this time containing your lines for the commercial. You really hate reading off a screen so you head to Keanu’s office where you know there’s a printer, hoping he won’t mind you going in. He’d said in his initial note that no room was off limits, but you’ve only been in here once, so it still feels a bit odd. Especially with the space being so obviously personal – the movie memorabilia, awards, and treasures from sets and places all over the world peppered around the room.

You sit down in the black desk chair and turn on the printer, setting up the bluetooth and humming to yourself. Once it’s set up, you lean back and wait for it to print, your eyes scanning the room and taking in everything. This is what he sees when he’s working, you think to yourself, wondering if this is where he rehearses. You look at the computer and hesitantly reach down to shake the mouse, your curiosity getting the better of you. I just want to see what his desktop wallpaper is.

You come face to face with a picture of a beautiful view, from what looks like a canyon. You wonder if he took it himself or if it’s something he found online. His administrator icon is the logo for his motorcycle company.

Not wanting to go any further than that, you turn the monitor back off and grab your script, getting out of the chair and heading to the door. Before you can leave however, you gravitate toward the award shelf again, eyeing each of them meticulously. He doesn’t have any of them protected by a glass case, they’re kind of just… sitting there.

Your curiosity definitely getting the better of you at this point, you place your script on the desk and reach out to grab one of the bigger awards – a Bambi from Germany shaped like a fawn. It’s sleek and smooth, and you notice there’s dust all over the top of it, like no ones touched it in years. Feeling incredibly vain, you turn toward the mirror on the wall and stare at yourself holding the award for a few moments, heart in your throat. So that’s what it would look like.

During this extremely selfish moment, you’re interrupted by your phone ringing, and it surprises you so much that you almost drop the award, a shocked gasp escaping your mouth as you frantically grab it before it hits the floor.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you say aloud, relieved but terrified as you hold the award in one hand and pull your phone out with the other. There’s no name but that number looks familiar, and your eyes widen when you realize it’s Keanu, “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Still holding the award, you bring the phone to your ear, “Hi.” you say, and you hope he can’t hear how breathless you are.

“Hi there,” his voice replies, kind and pleasant, “Just wanted to check in, make sure everything’s okay over there.”

“Oh yeah, it’s great,” you say immediately, licking your lips nervously, “All settled.”

“That’s good to hear. What do you think of the car?”

“Oh, uh, very fancy,” you say with a breathless laugh, “Like, way fancier than anything I’ve ever been in. You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

“Nah, it’s nothin’,” he says, brushing your words off quickly, “But yeah, Audi is definitely a favorite of mine. It was between that and a Porsche but I felt like that might have been a bit too much, if you know what I mean.”

You walk around the room as you talk, eyeing all the objects as you pass them, “Yeah, I mean, not that I really know the difference but I appreciate it.”

He laughs, and the sound sends a strange thrill through you that causes you to almost drop the award again, an audible yelp escaping your mouth as you catch it.

“You okay?” he asks, voice concerned.

“Yep,” your voice is higher than normal as you carefully place the Bambi back onto the award shelf, backing away slowly, “Almost dropped something, sorry.”

He chuckles, “Where are you?”

You freeze, “What do you mean?”

“Like what room? Are you in my office?”

You stand perfectly still, blinking a few times in disbelief, then pull the phone away from your ear to look down at it in confusion. You’re suddenly worried that you’ve accidentally facetimed with him, but nope, the camera is off.

“How…did you guess that?”

He laughs again, your anxiety ebbing, “Don’t worry, I don’t have cameras on you or anything, don’t get freaked out.”

“Too late.” You reply, meaning for it to be a joke but the nervousness in your voice is obvious.

“I heard the printer beep,” he explains, “It does that until you disconnect from the bluetooth, I have no idea why. Were you printing something?”

“Well, uh –”

“’Cause that’s fine!” he reassures you immediately, “I told you nothing was off limits! Actually, ignore that question, it’s none of my business.”

“No, no, no it’s totally fine, I was printing off a script.”

There’s a pause in the conversation and you stand there waiting for him to say something, scrunching your eyebrows.

“Like…” he trails off, trying to come up with the words, “Like, one of my scripts? Are you copying something?” The sudden hint of confusion in his voice brings all your anxiety back to the forefront.

“Oh my god, no, not at all! It’s one of mine, it’s for an audition I have coming up,” you explain, stumbling over the words, “It’s only short, they e-mailed it to me but I like having a physical copy.”

“You’re an actress?” he sounds interested – genuinely – which makes you even more nervous, and you swallow before slowly sitting down in his desk chair again to calm your nerves.

“Um, yeah. Your assistant, uh, didn’t tell you that?”

“She didn’t,” he replies, sounding a bit disappointed that he’s only just now learning this information, “How long have you been working?”

You laugh without humor, leaning back in the chair, “I mostly only go to auditions, if you’d call that working.”

“No, I mean, when did you first start? When did it come into your life?”

His gentle curiosity makes your cheeks warm a bit; a famous actor asking you questions about your craft? You’d never expected something like this to happen so early in your career, and it’s nerve-wracking but thrilling at the same time to get a chance to tell your story – or, some of it at least.

“Um, well, in elementary school I did this school play. It was a Christmas concert thing, I played Mary,” you snort, “I think I had maybe three lines, I was only in one scene. But from that moment I knew it was something I wanted to do.”

There’s silence, and you realize Keanu is listening intently to you, waiting for you to continue.

You swallow, “After that I started going to theater camp every summer; it was kind of just a hobby for a while. I was in a few more productions in high school, and that’s when I decided it was what I wanted to pursue, like, officially or whatever.”

“You started earlier than me, I like that,” Keanu says softly with a chuckle, “So, have I seen you in anything?”

Fuck. The question you dread constantly when telling someone about your job. How the hell are you supposed to sit there and tell Keanu Reeves that your most recent acting gig was a tampon commercial? The humiliation alone would probably make you never want to enter this house again.

You think on your feet, but probably not in the most well executed way: “I’d tell you but then I’d have to kill you.”

He laughs immediately, gentle and child-like as usual, “Ah, a mystery,” he says in a faux mystical voice, “How intriguing.”

You can’t help but giggle, playing absentmindedly with a button on your pajamas, “I met the gardener today – Jay,” you change the subject, wanting to move away from the acting stuff before he presses it further, although a part of you feels like he wouldn’t, “He’s nice.”

“Oh yeah, Jay’s a cool guy,” Keanu agrees, switching subjects easily without making it awkward, “If you ever need help with anything around the house I’m sure he wouldn’t mind lending a hand, I’ll ask Candice to give you his number.”

Yeah, I’m sure he wouldn’t, you think to yourself, remembering the flirtatious way he’d carried himself, “Sounds good.”

“Well,” Keanu says with an exhale, “Sorry to keep you from rehearsing, let me know how the audition goes, okay?”

It’s incredible that despite not knowing you at all, he really seems to be genuinely interested, not a hint of insincerity in his voice whatsoever. You can’t help but smile wide, the warmth in your cheeks spreading to the rest of your body and sending a surge of confidence through you.

“I will,” you reply softly, “Thank you for calling.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he replies, that familiar huskiness you’d heard early this morning back in his voice, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #mine #ilyltsco #i promise things are gonna start ~happening~ very soon #sooner than you might think #just gotta do a bit of an introduction first

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delicatelyherdreams · 6 years

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Teardrops on Lashes (Part 4)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: After the Chitauri invaded New York and nearly ended your life, you moved to Bucharest to get away from the superhero stuff. You simply wanted an uneventful, ordinary life. But when a stranger moves into the apartment next to yours, you begin to question those aspirations and choose to risk it all for love.

Warnings: Mild Language (honestly I should probably just make this a permanent warning); sexual innuendos; angst; James has a minor panic attack

Word Count: 2409

Teardrops on Lashes Masterlist

Previous: Part 3

Next: Part 5

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“So since when do you invite total strangers over to your place to make pie?” Nicole asked as the two of you worked side by side cooking in her kitchen.

You continued to stir the ciorba in the pot with a shrug. “I don’t know Nic, but he did find my bike and bought everything so I guess I felt like it was the right thing to do, you know? But now I can’t get him out of my head and I don’t have the foggiest as to why.”

It had been a little over a week since your little baking experience with James and that little shit had managed to wiggle his way into your mind and stay there.

She breathed a laugh as she tossed the parsley into the soup. “It sounds like you’ve been bit by the love bug.”

You scrunched your nose in disgust. “Ew, no. I just met the guy.”

“Hey, I’m just saying.” She pulled the salt and pepper from the spice drawer and began to sprinkle it into the pot. “When I first met Andrei I was in your exact spot. And now look, fifteen years and three kids later we are happily married and totally in love.” She had a dreamy smile on her face as she spoke, one that she usually got when she spoke about her husband.

You grinned. “Speaking of which, he’ll be here any minute!”

“Oh! (y/n) do me a favor and set the table please. I’ll finish this up,” she said frantically as she dashed to the fridge to get the lemon juice.

“You got it, boss,” you said with a salute and walked over to her bowls and plates cabinet. Opening it, you pulled out six soup bowls and plates and carried them over to her dining set. You set a bowl down on a plate at every spot, straightening them out so they looked pristine and perfect. Then, with the spoons and napkins that were already set out, you began to place a spoon on top of a napkin to the right of every setting. By the time you were done, Nicole was finishing the ciorba and transferring it into a serving bowl.

Just as she had set it down, the front door’s handle jiggled and the door slowly opened.

Luca looked up from his blocks and screamed, “Daddy!”

All heads in the room snapped towards the door as a man with close cropped sandy blonde hair walked into the apartment carrying a large duffel bag.

Andrei laughed and dropped his bag. “C’mere,” he said as he knelt down to intercept his speeding son.

Luca flew into his arms. “I missed you!” the boy squealed.

“I missed you too bud. Where’re your siblings and mama?” he asked looking up.

Little Alexi pushed himself up to his feet and together he and his older sister ran to tackled their father in a hug, all the while proclaiming how much they missed him.

Nicole stood back with a smile as she watched her family. “Hey, handsome. What am I? Chopped liver?”

Andrei looked up and he smiled. He let go of his kids and ran over to his wife. He scooped her up into a giant hug and pressed his lips against hers. When he finally pulled away, he smiled down at her lovingly. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” she hummed.

His nose twitched. “Is that ciorba I smell?” he asked.

You cleared your throat. “Just got done.” You smiled. “Welcome home, Andrei.”

He looked over and his smile grew even bigger. “You’re here too. I must have the entire freaking floor here to welcome me home.”

You shook your head. “Wrong. We have a new neighbor.”

Andrei frowned. “Someone moved into Stefan’s old place?”

Nicole grinned evilly. “Yes, and (y/n) has the hots for him,” she teased.

You rolled your eyes. “I do not. I’ve known him for a week.”

She leaned over to her husband with a smirk. “She had him over to bake her pie!”

Your mouth gaped open. “He found my stolen bike! How else was I going to thank him? With my body?” you asked with a laugh.

She gasped. “(y/n)! No! There are children here!”

You laughed harder. “Oh come on, Nic, they’re too young to get it.”

Andrei rolled his eyes. “You’re a menace,” he accused in a teasing tone.

“And yet, you keep me around,” you pointed out. A side smile covered your lips. “I’m starving, let’s eat.”

The whole family plus you crowded around the table and you all took your places. Nicole said a small blessing before she took the serving bowl and dumped a healthy bunch of the ciorba into her bowl. She then passed it along to Andrei who began to do the same.

As you watched Nicole pass the serving bowl to her husband you felt your heart ache. What would it be like to have someone to pass the bowl to who could help fill your child’s bowl? Who would be there sitting right next to you at the dinner table? Your thoughts once again trailed over to James with his brilliant eyes and smile that could make your heart skip a beat. What if he could be that special someone to you? He could be the one you wait for to come home everyday and the one to sleep you off your feet. The one you could settle down and build a family with. The one who could make your dreams a reality.

Liza held the bowl out to you. “Here you go, Auntie (y/n),” she said sweetly.

That snapped you out of your daze. “Oh, right, thanks kid.” You poured some of the steaming soup into your bowl and then poured a bit into Luca’s next to yours. You then placed the bowl back into the center of the table as everyone’s bowls were filled.

Dinner was spectacular as always. You often told Nicole she should’ve become a chef with her natural gift for cooking. She would disagree; she had to be home for her kids.

As the meal came to a close, you stood up to excuse yourself. “I think you all deserve some family time,” you said taking your dish to the sink. “I’ll leave you all to it. Welcome home, Andrei!” You waved your goodbye and left their apartment. As you walked down the hall towards your apartment, you saw someone standing outside your door. You slowed your pace as you neared, trying to figure out who was there. Nearing the door, you were a little surprised to see a familiar figure in a baseball cap waiting there. “James,” you acknowledged as you walked up to him.

His gaze snapped up to meet yours. “(y/n)! Hey! Uh, that would make sense as to why you weren’t answering your door. You weren’t home.” He laughed nervously and scratched the back of his head.

You smiled. “Yeah, I was at Nicole’s for dinner. Her husband just got back from Sokovia.”

“Oh, good.”

“Yeah. So what’s up? Did you need something?” you asked as you moved in front of him to unlock your door.

“Y-Yeah! I was wondering if you knew anything about amnesia,” he said quietly.

You pursed your lips as you beckoned him to follow you into the room. “I know a little bit. It’s the partial or total loss of memory, right?”

He nodded and sat on your couch. “That’s the one.”

You moved into your kitchen and filled a kettle with water. “I’ve never personally had it or known anyone with it, but I can imagine it’s quite frustrating. Why do you ask?”

He looked around your apartment nervously.

You stared at him. You’d never seen him this anxious before, not even when you went to the market. He looked so vulnerable and scared, almost as if he was a child who had lost his mother in a store. “James...?” you asked softly as you moved out of the kitchen to sit with him. You turned on the couch so your whole body was facing him. “What’s going on?”

He took a deep breath. “I-I went through a lot in my past,” he started slowly. “And there were a lot of times where my memory sort of.. reset, and so now, I'm having a hard time remembering anything before last year. It all comes in bits and pieces and I’m not sure what to do about it. I didn’t want to come to you with this but...” He stopped and shook his head. “You’re the only person I actually feel like I know anymore and I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Hey, that’s okay, I’m glad you came to me about this,” you said putting a hand on his shoulder.

He flinched at your touch and wrenched his shoulder away. He stayed still as a statue and his eyes stayed trained on your face in fear like he expected you to turn into a monster and attack.

Your heart throbbed and you wondered what had happened to him once more. “James, it’s okay,” you said in a calming voice, “it’s just me. Just (y/n). See?” You reached forward, offering your hand to him. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

James continued to sit stiffly like a statue, his eyes never leaving your form.

The tea kettle began to whistle as the water came to a boil making the both of you jump.

You looked towards the kitchen. “Sit tight,” you said, jumping over the back of the couch and running towards the kitchen. You pulled two mugs from your cabinet and filled them with the steaming hot water. Reaching into your random assortment of tea bags you pulled out a few. You quickly sniffed each one, searching for a scent of a certain tea. Finally, you found what you were looking for and dumped it into the cup you had gotten for James. You took your tea and his and carried them back out to the couch. “Here,” you said handing him his mug. “It’s calming chamomile, might help you settle down.”

His hand slowly reached out and took the warm cup. “Th-Thank you,” he whispered hoarsely.

You nodded and took your spot back on the couch. “Do you want to talk about it, sit in silence, or something else?” you asked quietly.

“C-Can you just talk?” he asked.

You smiled and began to speak. “I moved here shortly after a building almost fell on me,” you started. “A literal building if you can believe it. I was like ‘Nope, I’m out!’ and I packed everything and left. I was a college student with little money, no career, and no clue as to what I was doing. I bought this apartment for a steal, although, back then it was trashed. The walls were all cracked and crumbling and the floorboards creaked with every step,” you said describing your apartment. You tried to keep your voice as light and humorous as you could while you described your life starting out here. You told him about how you had gotten your job by hacking the company’s site to fix a typo in their bio that had irked you on for months and how you had always wanted to go someplace bigger, settle down, maybe even get a cat or two.

Slowly but surely, his rigid form began to relax, and his face began to show investment in your story. He started to nod along and drink his tea, becoming more active and engaged. As you brought this story to a close, he smiled softly. “Thank you, (y/n).”

You smiled back. “Better now?”

James nodded with a sigh. “Yes, I-I’m sorry about that. I...”

“Hey, you don’t need to apologize for it. Especially when it’s a panic attack or something similar. Somethings are just out of your control, and that’s okay,” you said taking a sip of your tea. “Now, about this memory thing.” You set your mug down on the coffee table and stood. “Stefan, the old grouchy guy who lived next door before you, had Alzheimer’s. It’s part of what made him so grouchy.” You walked over to your desk and pulled open the bottom drawer. “He’d get so frustrated with himself over forgetting the things in his life like his son’s age or his granddaughter’s birthday. So, I gave him a journal. I told him to write down everything he thought was important to remember so that way when his brain started to forget, he had a copy of what he needed to remember.” You dug to the bottom of the drawer and pulled out a black leather journal. “So now, I’m going to tell you to do the same.” You walked back to the couch and sat down. You held out the journal to him. “Whenever you remember something, big or small, go ahead and write it down, giving it context and a date if possible. That way, you can kinda piece together your memories and figure out your story.”

He stared at you. “Y-You’re just going to give this to me?”

“Why not? I wasn’t going to ever use it despite my fantasies of finally filling a journal,” you responded with a laugh.

He pulled the journal open, flipping through its blank lined pages. “Thank you,” he said looking up into your eyes.

There goes the stomach flipping again. You managed a smile. “Don’t mention it. Besides, what kind of a shitty friend would I be if I didn’t try to help you out?”

He grinned. “Friends? Is that what we are now?”

“Well I’d think so. I gave you my pie and my tea and I don’t do that for just anybody. Only my friends get those perks.”

“Friends,” he repeated wistfully. “Well, my friends call me Bucky.”

You burst into a fit of laughter. “Bucky? How the hell do they get ‘Bucky’ from ‘James?’”

“From my middle name, Buchanan,” he retorted. “I think my ma used to call me Bucky when I was little and it just stuck.”

You smirked. “Bucky,” you repeated. “I don’t know, James really suits you.”

“Well, you make up your mind on whichever you want to call me, and it’ll be yours,” he said as he finished his tea. “You’ve more than earned the right to call me either.

”Your smirk melted into a blissful smile. “I’m glad...”

Teardrops on Lashes Taglist: @fuckthatfeeling @lynnskata

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seatsbythepit · 7 years

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thoughts on ornstein's summary thing?

Okay, anon, I gotta admit my head has been whirring on this one, I’ve been thinking about your question the whole time I was at work - and I would like to apologize in advance, because it was 100% more eloquent in my head than in the words I’m about to write.

First and foremost, I have to make two “disclaimers”:

The first being that we should all keep in mind that David Ornstein is, at the end of the day, a reporter with sources at the club. He has often been reliable, tends to post only when he’s fairly certain of his information, and probably takes his info in good faith, however we do have to take any and all information (i.e. how certain deals happened, mood of the players/club etc.) with a pinch of salt, purely because only the people who were actually there would know what was said and done etc. But we can of course draw our own conclusions from the actions of the club, past experience, etc.

The second: I am not particularly a good stats/data person, nor do I have a great capacity for economics, I have basic understandings but I can’t venture too deep - so my thoughts come from a more observational/analytical perspective purely from what I’m seeing/hearing/understanding. So, apologies again to anyone who wants me to delve into the mathematical and statistical minutiae of our club, I don’t feel I could do that justice.

So, let’s proceed under the cut because this is going to be fairly long I imagine.

🔽🔽🔽

To address what I think of what Ornstein has presented us with: It is nothing too surprising or shocking. For some this will warrant an eye-roll, for others it may it reignite anger/frustration at the absurdity of our board, there will be some hurt/disappointment with certain players or certain transfers, or the lack thereof in particular positions - and perhaps even some room for consolation or reasoning. But ultimately: Nothing totally new.

(And I have to stress, we will all view the First Team’s situation, and in part some of the academy’s involvement, in different ways - we will come to some similar and some different views, all of which may be right/wrong to different extents. I can only speak for myself when I discuss this.)

I think the transfer window started out fairly well, we sealed Lacazette and Kolasanic in time for summer tour - two very good players, both high achievers in their former leagues. We had some backroom changes too, to coaching staff and to our legal team - nothing too spectacular there, but a little “fresher” to start the window’s activity.

The disappointment comes where deals/transfers were dragged out, things kept getting changed, and ultimately, we perhaps lost/gained in places where we were looking to do the opposite. There of course will be the January window, but I think accompanied with the context of losing our last two PL games a lot of people do not take kindly to indecision and hesitation - though it is granted the influence of other clubs/players on the other side of business will have contributed in certain areas.

All in all, I don’t think too much else would have happened in the window even if we had got 3 wins in a row, maybe one more signing of some notoriety, but nothing too big. (As the Ornstein Recap alludes to, without Alexis’ sale there was no room to budge in terms of a “big” signing [in all honesty I don’t subscribe to the idea that it has to be big or expensive to make a difference, but we could have done with a midfielder or a defender - as some players seemed to have fallen out of favour], again due to the fact that Stan won’t splash the cash.)

I’ll briefly touch on the talk of Hector Bellerin and Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain in Ornstein’s Recap:

Hector wanting to go back to Barcelona seems to be part truth and part self-fulfilling prophecy, and as Hector said before he is committed to Arsenal and I guess we can only really take his word for it. Not to mention I feel that if you commit to such a long contract as he has, you should honour it - you should honour your commitments unless there is an extreme circumstance that requires you to leave. Note: Losing CL football does not qualify as extreme, no matter how unappealing or shit it may seem to some professional footballers and to some fans.

Perhaps the biggest controversy of the window was the departure of Oxlade-Chamberlain. Again, I am only speaking for myself so: I was disappointed, yes. I didn’t like the way it had been dragged out, I didn’t like the fact that he got to play against Liverpool as it seemed so clear his time was over at the club, it just all felt so unnecessary. I am sad that he chose not to commit himself any further to us - we of course had many years of hoping for “his year”, and last year seemed to be the beginnings of having that only for it to be cut off during this window. He had/has his reasons, what else is there to say? Bitterness has turned to resignation and now to indifference, I have other players at my club that require my support and attention.

I think the real crux of our issues does lay outside of transfers, and more in the boardroom - as I’m sure most will agree. The on-pitch performance/player attitude and fan influence are all (partly) side effects/symptoms of the deeper rot that is our (majority) owner and inactive board. (

All current members of our board have become active between 2005 - 2013.

Sir Chips Keswick was first appointed as an Arsenal director in November 2005 and replaced the outgoing Peter Hill-Wood as Chairman of Arsenal Holdings plc in June 2013.

Ivan Gazidis was appointed as Chief Executive Officer of Arsenal Football Club in January 2009.

Arsenal Football Club’s longest-serving director, Ken Friar OBE has been a mainstay of the Club for more than 60 years. (Honestly won’t really include Ken in this, he still serves our club in 23847724 ways and I will fight for him.)

Lord Harris of Peckham was appointed to the Arsenal board in November 2005.

Stan Kroenke became a shareholder in May 2007, was appointed to the Board of Directors in September 2008 and became the majority shareholder of Arsenal Football Club in April 2011.

Josh Kroenke joined the board of Arsenal Football Club in December 2013.

The reason I make note of this is because this coincides fully with the time (10 years) where we were emphatic that we could not/would not be able to compete with our rivals as the Emirates Stadium needed to be paid off, leaving little else for club business. In fact, it required Arsene Wenger reassuring the banks that he would stay for a further 5 years to see that there was a consistency within the club (i.e. making CL every year, which we did.) in order to repay the loans. (It was partly his idea that we move to a bigger stadium in the first place.)

So, for those years I suspect the board didn’t have too much to do, sure there would be fan discontent, and there really was (“Spend some fucking money”, ring a bell?) - we made a few goes at the title and progressed only a little in the CL, no FA Cups, no nothing - but hey, they were in the Bubble of Time, they told us about that time, so we just had to suck it up, right? Fair enough, I suppose. We still did very well to maintain top 4, especially in a time where that money did actually matter a lot.

2013 rolls around, we start to defrost, and fans think “We should really be doing something by now, ffs” But we have to bear in mind two crucial things:

The lucrative nature of the PL, the value, the cash flow, whatever you want to call it - it had grown exponentially in that decade, this meant that “lower clubs” had tv money, advertising and sponsorship that allowed them to be on a more even playing field, the divide between the great, good and mediocre was allowed to shrink.

Stan Kroenke was (and is) the tache with the cash.

I think we know how the rest goes, we got some great players, both known and unknown, big shiny toys and hidden gems, and everything else in between. We won an FA Cup, two…three in fact - but at the very core the slight patch of mold started to grow, the Kroenke effect. We’re held on a tight leash, our system dictates that we can only use what we make in profit to deal with everything, Stan doesn’t want to give us anything, but hey! Apparently, he wants us to do well!

And you can imagine the fan discontent grows and grows, it’s daylight robbery, we pump the club full of cash in the form of shirt sales, tickets, programmes, magazines, merchandising, our tv subscriptions and so forth (because we love it and want to see it thrive.) - and receive very little in return, no desire, no ambition, falsehoods and unfulfilled promises. That is the first boil of anger festering.

The second boil, and the worst casualty, is Arsene Wenger. Arsene loves us, he loves Arsenal Football Club. And because of this he has not only contributed to our stadium, he has declined offer after offer from other clubs, he has taken the full force of any and all criticism/abuse directed at the club and has protected those that sit at a desk (or relax in a different country entirely) above him.

The reason he is a festering boil is because he becomes a way to channel any and all anger, not just the criticisms he receives as manager. The first boil (The Board) can remain subtle, silent and deadly, but the second is pickable, burstable, it is pumped full of bitterness and entitlement, sadness and despair. But Arsene, despite a few words of displeasure, takes it - he allows it to happen because [read the first few sentences above].

So when you take Arsene for what he is, he is brilliant, he is infuriating, he is wise, he is stubborn, he is intelligent and he is heart breaking. Arsene has made mistakes, foolish decisions, perhaps he has been secretive, perhaps he really does need to let loose and expose our board for what we already know and more - but he won’t, at least I think he won’t, because (excuse my strange analogy) I see it like this:

The club is hanging over a cliff edge (within the context of the expectations and demands of a club our size, I know there are 100s who have it worse off than we do.), and Arsene is holding onto us, he won’t let go, because the way he sees it is that if he drops us (if he leaves) we will fall, fall hard and it could be some serious damage to us - this is because of instability the board has given us - BUT in all of this Arsene is getting older, he is under strain, it is getting harder and harder to hold onto us, the magnitude of our plight is no longer manageable the way it was in the late 90s/00s.

He does make mistakes, he does get it wrong, but perhaps it wouldn’t feel so terrible or be so exacerbated if the system above him had the decency to take him away from the pressure, to say “No, this needs to happen”, “It’s okay we will do this”, “We have decided this”, “You need to do this”. For as long as he tries to keep it all together without letting them be held accountable he is going to be hurt and be the cause of hurt, whether that’s fair or not.

Maybe he could let go and nothing too terrible would happen to us and he could go home and rest or turn his work elsewhere, but there’s this sense of responsibility, that deep love, that relentlessness. He doesn’t trust that if he lets go that somebody will come to pick us up and mend us, not under Stan Kroenke, he would not forgive himself if it were to be damaging to his life’s work and life’s love.

So… we’re in a rut, Stan won’t move, Arsene won’t either. And together it creates this friction, this resentment that oozes and pulses in many factions of the support base, we can use social media to micro-analyze and overanalyze, to pick and pick and pick at our wounds with no healing to come with it, only botched plaster jobs and short term solutions, maybe some pain relief in between (trophies/big wins/good team performances/exciting players).

And then the third boil comes from the media who love their clicks for money, the supposed fans who deliberately create more issues with little room for reason or debate, and the pundits (ex-Arsenal players sometimes) who apply logic/expectations/experience from when they were footballers to a vastly different environment of modern football - anything that’s bad is really bad, and anything that’s good can only last for a week. It’s the culture of hyperbole, sensationalism, dramatics, and hypocrisy.

TL;DR: We are burnt out. Something has to give.

In all of this nonsense that has gone completely off topic, we are stuck. Ornstein’s words are only a mirror being held up to remind us that we are still frail as fuck underneath, we are trying hard in some ways and utterly stagnant in others. But it won’t stop me from coming along with my glue and my bandages, it won’t stop me from wishing someone would heal the infection, that someone would remove the rot and start again, and that the most special someone, Arsene Wenger, could move on and not feel like he let us down. He deserves that at least.

#ask #anon #aa #long post #football

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