#so i gotta saddle up and figure it out. Oh Well! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lunarmoves · 10 months

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these summer nights (chapter two)

pairing: DCA sun/moon/eclipse x reader

mentions: summer camp au, gender neutral reader, post-drinking headache, consumption of painkillers, uhh moon being a shithead but what else is new

word count: 10.6k+

masterlist | part one

ao3 link

Part of you had hoped you’d be able to sleep in the following morning after your little hang out session with the other counselors. It was late when you had eventually managed to slip into a deep, blissful slumber and you knew you’d regret it come morning when you’d have to face all the tasks Henry would undoubtedly saddle you with. But you figured you could just catch a few extra winks of sleep and blame it on all the traveling you did yesterday—not like anyone could fault you for that.

However… A few hours after the sun had started to peek in through your open window, you were woken up by a very loud, very ebullient voice.

“Wakey, wakey, new friend!” the voice shouted just above your head, and you were jolted out of sleep with a small snort.

“Wuh?” you groggily answered, squinting your eyes at the sudden switch from the darkness of your eyelids to the brightness of your room. A grinning face with blank, white eyes hovered over yours, and it took a moment for your sleep-addled brain to process what you were looking at before you realized it was Sun. You blinked slowly up at him, mind moving at the pace of a snail. “...Time izzit?”

His grin widened, as though amused by your sleepiness. “It is almost eight in the morning! Time to wake up, wake up!” The rays around his head did a little spin as he chirped out his words.

“Eight?” you echoed, then groaned lowly and rolled over so you could stuff your face back into your pillow. It was too early for this shit. A dull headache thrummed gently against your temples, but it wasn’t as bad as you’d expected. Still, you pressed your face further into your pillow in the hopes that you could make it disappear. Your words were muffled when you spoke, “Five more minutes.”

“That’s what you said five minutes ago! I gave you your extra sleep time, now up up up!” Sun clapped his hands—a weird sound; metal striking against metal—and reached down to pull your blanket away from your body. You protested lightly, but were too out of it to do much other than flap your hands at him blindly. “We have much to do today! Get up, get dressed! Come on! Don’t make me tickle you!”

“Okay, okay…” You knew when to admit defeat, and it seemed like Sun was nothing but persistent. You sat up slowly in your bed and let out a large yawn as you stretched your arms out above your head. You rubbed your right eye as you looked over at Sun. He was diligently folding your blanket for you, swaying side to side in that animated little motion of his. “When’d you get back?” You hadn’t seen nor heard Moon enter the cabin at all last night—at least before you fell asleep. You wondered if he spent the entire night doing that “security free roam” thing Vincent had told you about.

“Oh about half an hour ago!” he told you and shooed you off of your bed so he could lay your blanket neatly over the sheets. Well, that answered that question. You stumbled to your feet and slipped on your flip-flops. Sun fixed your pillow for you and flicked his hand at you without turning around from his spot. “Go get ready!”

“Yes, Mom.” You rolled your eyes in good nature as you gathered some clean clothes and disappeared into your little bathroom. You could hear the sounds of Sun bustling about as you brushed your teeth and once you emerged—fresh and significantly more cognizant than before—you found out he’d been stripping the beds in the main room. You leaned against the open door frame of your room, still holding onto the pajamas you’d been wearing.

“Laundry day today, huh?” you asked, more to yourself than anything, but Sun still answered.

“Yup! Gotta get all these sheets clean! Don’t want any allergies acting up, no no!” he responded brightly, arms full of cloud-patterned sheets as he dashed over to the small laundry room and filled up one of the washing machines. You watched him work for a moment, then turned back into your room so you could dump your pajamas onto your bed to wear later. Then you joined Sun in stripping the rest of the beds and filling up the four washing machines that lined one of the walls in the laundry room.

It was quick work. You dumped some detergent into the last machine, then closed the lid so you could start the cycle. The sounds of water flooding into the little chamber filled the air. You closed the detergent bottle and shoved it back onto the shelf you’d grabbed it from. You could still feel your headache thrumming away and wished you had a glass of water or something to help ease it up. Maybe an Aleve. You’re pretty sure there were some outside water fountains dotted across the camp grounds.

“All done on my end,” you announced, just as Sun closed up the washing machine he’d been dealing with and pressed the little start button. His head and torso swiveled to the right so he could look at you and give you a thumbs up.

“Great! And just in time for breakfast, too!” He grinned and spun himself back around so he could bounce out of the laundry room. As though on cue, your stomach rumbled. You hadn’t had much to eat yesterday, in hindsight. Just a few snack bars and the fast food you’d grabbed on the drive over. You followed after Sun and watched as he stood by the front door of the cabin. He waved at you. “Come, new friend! We must go to the mess hall!”

Oh! That made sense. “One sec,” you told him and darted into your room so you could swap your flip-flops for some sneakers and grab the water bottle from your tote bag that Henry had given to you. Yesterday, you’d emptied out the contents of your tote bag onto the little nightstand next to your bed. You’d already put away your counselor shirts, so there was only the keychain, name tag, and water bottle sitting on the wooden surface. The water bottle was decorated with the stickers from the bag—little cartoon drawings of Sun and Moon, as well as the actual sun and moon—that you’d decided to slap on for the hell of it. Not like you had anywhere else to put them.

You rejoined Sun by the front door, bottle clutched in your hand. “Okay, ready!”

“Let’s go!” He opened the door and allowed you to exit first. You breathed in the fresh morning air as you walked down the steps. The sun winked at you from above the treeline, not a cloud in sight in the bright, blue sky. You waited for Sun to close the door and jump down the stairs, then off you both went, following the path to the mess hall. You saw a water fountain off to the side of your cabin, but you figured you could just refill your bottle at the mess hall itself.

“So,” you started as your sneakers crunched over dirt and leaves, echoed by the much louder footsteps of Sun right by your side, “did you have enough time to recharge this morning? I didn’t hear you at all if you did.”

Sun turned his head so he could look down at you. “Oh! No, silly! We’d already charged earlier in the day yesterday, so we didn’t need to! We can last quite a long time without needing to recharge, you know.”

“Really?” You glanced up at him. “How long?”

Sun made a sound as though he was thinking. It sounded a bit strange, coming from his voice box and overlaid with a bit of static. “Anywhere from twelve to thirty-six hours!”

You let out a low whistle. “Wow! That’s some battery life. How long does it take you to recharge, then?”

“Maximum battery life can be achieved in just two hours!” he proclaimed, and it sounded like something straight out of a phone commercial. “But we don’t really charge for that long due to stored power from our solar technology.” His rays did a little spin as if to emphasize his point, catching the little sunlight that poked through the trees’ canopies from above.

“That’s so fucking cool,” you blurted out, then immediately heard Sun let out a tut.

“Language!” he chided you with a long, wagging finger. “Although there are no children present, it is a good idea to practice withholding your profanity!”

“Sorry.” You gave him a sheepish smile. “That’s so cool,” you repeated again. “My phone can’t even last that long with its shitty battery.” You then paused for a moment and felt your eyes widen slightly. You turned to face Sun and waved your hand in front of you, a burning sensation heating up your face. “Not— Not that you’re comparable to a phone! You’re uh, much more advanced than that—“

Sun tilted his head and laughed—a loud thing that made you clamp down roughly on your tongue and turn back so you could focus on the path before you. Good job, idiot, making a fool out of yourself on your second day. “Don’t fret, new friend!” He set a large hand down on your head and gave your hair a little ruffle. You let out a little “hey!” and smoothed your hair down once he let go. “We understand what you were saying!” The tension that’d previously lined your shoulders disappeared at his words.

“Right…” you trailed off and rubbed your free hand against your cheek in the hopes that you could eradicate the remaining tinges of embarrassment there. You cleared your throat. “So… where does all the power come from for your charging stations? I imagine it would use a lot of electricity… Plus the rest of the camp’s lights and cameras…”

“Ah, there is a small power plant located a few miles away that the camp utilizes to power it,” Sun explained. You raised an eyebrow at his words. A small power plant? That would honestly still produce an insane amount of electricity. “It is not located on any of the camp maps for obvious reasons and is also used by the closest town to power its homes as well.”

“Huh,” you let out as you and Sun broke out of the path through the woods and onto the main pavilion area. Without the shade from the trees, you could feel the steadily warming sunlight caress your face and arms. The mess hall was just up ahead—you could see its doors were open. “That’ll definitely be enough to power the entire camp and then some. Is the plant within walking distance? Do you know?” You were just asking out of curiosity, mostly.

“Depends on how you interpret ‘a few miles’!” Sun replied cheerfully. You frowned slightly.

“So… not really.”

“Nope! Unless you are really, really determined!” The two of you made your way up the stairs of the mess hall. “But I would advise against that. Power plants are certainly not safe, no-sir-ee!”

You nodded and found yourself stepping into the main room of the giant mess hall. Immediately, you got distracted by the high-rising windows that practically flooded the place with golden light. To the left of the hall were some spare chairs and a water fountain that you eyed for a moment. There was also a closed door, tucked into the far left corner, that you figured either led back outside or to another storage room of sorts.

Your gaze then drifted across the walls, where colorful cartoon depictions of the robot counselors were painted across them. They were all wearing hearty grins and waving at the viewer. Your eyes trailed from Freddy, to Roxy, Chica, Monty and… some purple bunny. You stared at him in quiet observation. You… hadn’t been introduced to any purple bunnies, you were pretty sure. Not a counselor, then. Maybe you’ll meet him later.

You forced yourself to move on from the purple bunny and instead ended up looking at the paintings of Sun and Moon. Both of them were next to each other—Sun’s arms were thrown up into the air, while Moon’s was down low as though he was about to grab someone. From what you knew about them, that seemed pretty on brand.

There was something about their paintings, though, that caught your attention. You couldn’t really put a finger on it—not from where you were standing, at least. You squinted slightly, as though that could help you, but before you could ruminate further on the difference, you heard someone call out your name. You were startled out of your thoughts and looked in the direction of the sound.

All the way to the right of the mess hall was an open stage with a microphone stand sitting in the center. On each side of the stage, on the ground level, were two doors that were partly open. In front of the stage were long picnic-esque tables that were positioned parallel to it. A quick count let you know that there were about ten tables total split evenly into two rows. Gathered at one of the tables were most of the human handlers—all in varying levels of wakefulness. You noticed only Chica was hanging around, sitting next to Jeremy. You wondered what the others were doing. Preparation things, probably. You made a beeline straight for them once you noticed them, giving Sun a little “c’mon” as you walked.

“Hey, you’re alive,” Michael greeted you as you stopped by the empty seat to the left of him. There was a tray in front of him along with a cup of what looked to be coffee. He pushed it towards you after eyeing your face for a bit. “Here. You look like you need it.”

“Thanks, man,” you replied in gratitude as you grabbed the cup and took a large gulp. It was still warm and a bit bitter. You tried not to make a face out of courtesy, but Michael laughed anyway.

“Yeah, it’s not the best,” he chuckled and leaned back from the table so he could look up at you. “We don’t order a lot since it’s only us and Henry who really drink it. The kids aren’t allowed to. Means we get the shittier brands.”

“It tastes like motor oil,” was all you said dryly before you set the cup back down on the table. Chica let out a giggle at your words.

“Believe me when I say it’s better than that!” She laughed and it came to your attention that there was an empty tray in front of her as well. You raised an eyebrow at it, but decided not to question it.

“You out here drinking motor oil?” You grinned, voice light to let her know you were just teasing her. She didn’t answer, only grinned back at you, one of her eyes closing in a wink.

“T-This is why I stick to milk,” Jeremy stuttered out, a milk carton gripped in one of his hands. As though to emphasize his point, he took a swig out of it and set it back down like it was a mug of beer or something. You held in a snicker and let your gaze drift over to Vanessa sitting on Jeremy’s other side.

There were two empty coffee cups resting in front of her. She was quietly nursing a third in her hands. “At least one of us likes it,” you said pointedly while you looked at her. Vanessa only gave you a deadpanned look.

“Who said anything about liking it?” She blinked heavily at you, squinting her green eyes slightly. “It just gets the job done.”

You hummed. “Sure, sure. Where did you guys get the food anyways? I’m starving.”

Chica pointed to the partially opened doors on the right and left side of the stage. “Those doors lead into and out of the kitchen built behind the stage. It’s where everyone has to pass through to get food!”

“Oh, word? Thanks, I’ll be back, then!” You made a motion as though to move towards the kitchen, then remembered the empty water bottle in your hand. You turned to look up at Sun—who had been hovering right behind you, hands politely clasped together in front of him—and held out your water bottle to him. “Actually, can you fill this up for me while I grab some food? Please?”

Sun gave you a jovial salute and took the bottle from you. It looked nearly miniscule in his hands. “Sure thing, new friend!”

“Awesome, catch ya in a few.” You turned and rounded the table so you could approach the door to the right of the stage. Beyond it, there was a buffet-style organization to the food, with one long bar that spanned the entire length of the room. You grabbed a tray from a shelf underneath the bar and slid it along the little, metal ledge. There wasn’t anyone on the other side of the bar—where your typical lunch lady would be, spooning out servings—so you had to help yourself to the meager amount of food that’d been set out for breakfast. There weren’t too many mouths to feed just yet, after all.

After filling your tray with some fruit and other breakfast items that’d caught your eye, you grabbed a cup of juice from the end of the bar and exited through the door to the left of the stage. As you headed back towards the table with the other counselors, you noticed Sun had returned before you, water bottle clutched in his grip.

“Thank you!” You beamed at him as you set your tray down on the table and grabbed the bottle from him when he offered it to you. He perked up, his sunrays doing a jolly little spin.

“Anytime! Always happy to help!” he responded eagerly with that big, bright grin of his. Sun’s energy sure was contagious. You wondered how long you’d be able to keep up with him. You smiled and sat down at the table next to Michael, swinging your legs over the little bench to make yourself more comfortable. As you unwrapped the tiny spork from the wrapping it was in—both biodegradable, nice—you tuned in to the conversation the others had been having in your brief absence.

“Yeah, he said he’d be here around breakfast time to drop off radios and stuff for you guys,” Michael said as he leaned his arms against the table. A movement at the corner of your vision caught your attention, and you noticed Sun had taken a seat next to you, his back against the table’s edge and his long legs stretching into the available space between this table and another. You figured that was better than him trying to pretzel his way into sitting properly, long limbs and all.

“Who, Henry?” you asked for clarification and Michael nodded.

“He’s probably gonna distribute tasks for the day, too,” he added. “I don’t think we have much else to do around camp, though. Mostly final touches. Taking final inventory and the like.”

“Ugh, it’s all so boring!” Chica complained, using her arm to prop up her head. “The days before reopening always suck!”

“Aren’t you supposed to be helping Freddy right now?” Michael squinted his eyes at the animatronic, who raised her hand against her chest in feigned indignation.

“And miss out breakfast with my favorite assistant?” she mock gasped as she reached over to pinch at Jeremy’s cheek. He made a muffled sound and bent his head towards Chica to avoid getting his cheek tugged on too harshly. She smiled, all beak and mischief. “No offense, Michael.”

“None taken.” He shrugged and looked over to you. By now you’d tucked away most of the fruit you’d picked up, your appetite practically voracious now that you had things in front of you to eat. He raised an eyebrow, amusement lining his expression. “I take it the food’s good?”

“You’d be this hungry too if all you had to eat yesterday was a sandwich and some protein bars,” you said through a mouthful of fruit. Sun chided you to finish chewing before you spoke, so you quickly gulped down what you had in your mouth, then winced when your headache pulsed through your temples with a vengeance. Right. You’d nearly forgotten about that. “Ough. Anyone got a painkiller or something?”

“Luckily for you, I came prepared.” Michael dug around in his pocket and slapped a tab containing a small, nondescript blue pill on the table in front of you. Alright then.

“Lifesaver,” you praised as you unwrapped the painkiller and popped it in your mouth to down with some of your juice. You wiped your mouth after. “I’m guessing you carry them around based on experience?”

“All from taking care of Vincent.” Jeremy snickered and speared a grape on his tray with his spork.

“And himself,” Chica added and you snorted at the fact that even the animatronic chicken knew of his drunken adventures. Michael’s ears tinged strawberry-red.

“Speaking of Vincent,” you cut in, your eyes sweeping around the table once more, “where is he?”

“Probably still passed out in bed.” Vanessa snorted into her coffee cup. She didn’t seem like she was a morning person either, you noted.

“Wouldn’t be surprised if he was laying in a ditch somewhere.” Michael rolled his eyes, then jumped slightly when something heavy plopped into the open seat on his other side. You peeked past him to see what it was. “...Speak of the devil.”

“Heard you guys talkin’ shit,” Vincent rasped as he slumped onto the table. He looked just about as elegant as one would look after a night of drinking. “Hate waking up at eight in the morning. We needa get Henry to change the breakfast time.”

“You’d think he’d get used to it after four years of being here, but apparently not,” Michael deadpanned.

“Listen,” Vincent argued back in a muffled voice as he laid his head face down on the table, “I haven’t had to wake up this early since high school. All my grad courses are in the afternoon.”

“Wait,” you interjected with furrowed brows, “so what I’m hearing is we need to wake up at eight every day?”

“That’s right, new friend!” Sun replied, and you nearly jumped out of your skin at hearing his loud voice. You’d nearly forgotten he was sitting next to you; he’d been so quiet. Seemed like he didn’t talk much in larger groups, go figure. “Counselors wake up first at eight, then have to get the kids ready to be in the mess hall by nine!”

“The only exception are weekends,” Michael added. “We’re all allowed to sleep in an hour later. Everything should be in that packet Henry gave you.” Right. The packet that you definitely studied last night. Yes. You just nodded. Maybe you should’ve listened more closely during the orientation.

“All I’m saying is the world would be a better place if breakfast was pushed back an hour instead!” Vincent ranted, then winced almost imperceptibly. You watched as he lifted one hand and made a grabby motion at Michael. “Drugs.” Ah, so he was plagued with a headache too. Sucker.

Michael shook his head and chuckled. He pulled out two more tabs from his pocket and set them in Vincent’s palm. Vincent immediately unwrapped them and practically chucked them into his mouth, teeth crunching down onto the little pills. You made a face, and it seemed like you weren’t the only one, for Vanessa did the same.

“Dude, what the hell? Are you chewing them?” you asked, flabbergasted. You were pretty sure that was… not the best idea. “Swallow them whole like the rest of us!”

“Vincent’s just like that,” Jeremy told you dryly. “Ignore him. It’s just to get a reaction.”

Vincent snickered and stole Michael’s coffee cup to take a swig and wash out the taste of the painkillers from his mouth. “I live life by picking the most chaotic route.”

“Clearly!” You were disgusted, and maybe a little bit disturbed. Not that you’d say that out loud; it would probably only further fuel his fire. “How are you not dead yet? Or even like, egregiously injured?”

Vincent shot you a sly grin. “Pure spite, baby.”

“That’s a lie, I’m sure he has a contract with the devil, or something,” Michael teased, his amusement growing enough for him to let out a laugh at the betrayed look Vincent aimed at him.

“Bro, stop giving away my secrets!”

Michael rolled his eyes and slapped Vincent on his back. “Oh shut up and go grab some food. You know it’ll help you feel like you didn’t just get your shit rocked by Monty.”

Vincent only groaned and slumped back down onto the table face first. “Too lazy. Much work. Many effort.”

Chica made a sound like she was clicking her tongue, which was strange and a bit funny coming from her voice box. “You and Moon have been spending too much time together. He’s starting to rub off on you.” Yeah… putting them together seemed like it would be a recipe for disaster.

“I’m inclined to agree,” Sun said dryly and you had to stifle a laugh at the change in tone from his typical bubbly one. “I always end up cleaning up the mess afterwards!”

“Pssht, that’s all on Moon,” Vincent dismissed with a flap of his hand in the air. Somehow, you doubted that. He then turned his head to the left so he could stare at you. Or well, not at you, but past you—at Sun. Talk about déjà vu…

“Hey Sun,” Vincent started in a not-so-innocent voice, “do me a solid and grab me some food.”

“Stop taking advantage of Sun’s kindness!” Michael scolded him with a clap to the back of Vincent’s head that made him sit up to aim a proper scowl at his assailant.

“Come on! It’s a solid!” He reached over to shove Michael on the shoulder.

“I didn’t realize we were in elementary school,” Vanessa said flatly as she eyed the two men across from her. Vincent only stuck his tongue out at her.

“Hmm”—Sun rubbed at the bottom of his faceplate as though considering the solid—“I don’t know, friend…”

“Hey now,” you piped up as you twisted yourself to shield Sun from Vincent’s view—at least, to the best of your abilities, “he’s mine. Get your own animatronic! Ask Monty!”

Vincent tilted his head back in exasperation. “He’s aaalllll the way at the lake house right now. And after he suplexed me awake, I’d rather not.” Well, you supposed that was one way to wake someone up…

“I’ll grab you something,” Jeremy finally offered with an amused shake of his head. Immediately, Vincent’s demeanor did a 180 and he reached over to clasp at one of Jeremy’s hands.

“You’re a saint, Jeremy!” he wailed dramatically, eyes shining with crocodile tears. “An angel sent from above!”

“Oh shut it.” Jeremy huffed out a laugh and downed the rest of his milk. Once he was done, he stood up and casually placed it on Chica’s empty tray. She immediately snatched it up and shoved it into her mouth, the cardboard crunching and snapping in her beak as she chowed down like it was a tasty snack. No one batted an eye. Okay then. You sipped at your cup of juice. You wouldn’t mention it either.

As Jeremy walked off towards the kitchen, you felt something tap you on the shoulder. A glance to your left showed that Sun was the culprit, and he waved his hand at your tray of food when you tilted your head at him in question.

“New friend, don’t forget to finish your own food!” he said with a pointed look. Right. You’d gotten so caught up in the conversation that you forgot to keep eating. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, after all!”

“I’m eating, I’m eating,” you appeased him as you picked up your spork to tackle the rest of your food.

“So,” Chica started with a glance at you then at Vanessa, “you both seemed to have settled in pretty well, yeah?”

Vanessa only nodded, but you smiled and reached over to pat Sun’s arm. He tilted his head down at you. “Yep! All thanks to this guy”—you gave him an appreciative look and his rays spun happily around his face at it—“though I… can’t really say the same about Moon.” You made a face. You were still pretty salty about the jumpscare he gave you last night.

“Oh don’t worry about Moon”—Chica flapped her hand in a dismissive manner—“he takes some getting used to. He’s just a big ol’ softie inside. Though, don’t tell him I told you that!” She said that last bit in a hushed whisper, her hand covering her beak in a conspiratory manner.

“You know he can hear you!” Sun remarked amusedly. You turned to look at him, a questioning look on your face. You didn’t even need to say anything—Sun seemed to pick up on the source of your confusion rather easily. “He’s right in here!” he said as he knocked his hand against the metal of his forehead. “Aware even when I’m in control!”

“And vice versa,” Michael added in. Jeremy returned just then, setting a tray down in front of Vincent (who thanked him profusely), before sitting back down next to Chica.

“That’s so fu—” you started, then caught the disapproving look Sun was giving you and corrected yourself mid sentence. “...freaking cool.” And it really was! You couldn’t imagine the kind of code that would have to go into that. Or maybe it was something they developed on their own later? Who knew. You were starting to better understand why engineering students would find Camp Fazbear to be a goldmine.

“That just means it makes it harder to rope Sun into helping plan shit against Moon.” Vincent snorted as he dug into a bowl of cereal. “They like… inadvertently snitch on each other.”

You wanted to ask more about it—their dual A.I.s and how they worked together—but before you could even open your mouth, there was a loud “Good morning, all!” called out from the entrance of the mess hall.

Immediately, two things occurred at the same time. Chica snatched up the empty fruit container you had on your tray and stuffed it rapidly into her beak, not even chewing as she seemingly swallowed it whole. Jeremy snatched the empty tray that was in front of her and slipped it underneath his own, wrapping his arms casually around its sides. Then they both acted like nothing had happened, wearing innocent looks on their faces as Henry approached the table. You exchanged befuddled looks with Vanessa. Vincent snickered into his cereal and nearly choked on a spoonful of milk.

“Hey Henry,” Michael greeted the man once he’d stopped at the head of the table, where Vanessa and Vincent were sitting. A smile tugged at his lips, but he squashed it down as he looked up at the older man.

“Good to see everyone up and ready so early!” Henry set down a small bag atop the table and immediately started rummaging through it. He pulled out a few walkie talkies and started passing them around the table to everyone except for the two robots and Michael (the latter of which already had his own). “Got everyone’s radios and keycards for the summer. Please keep them on your person at all times, just in case.”

You accepted a walkie from Michael as he passed it over to you and observed the different knobs and buttons. Henry explained how to use it—which channel to switch to in order to talk to the other counselors as well as the private one you would have with your robotic partner. He also noted that every morning you were to do a radio check with the others to ensure that both the walkie was working properly and that everyone was accounted for.

“Now, the keycards will give you access to all the locked buildings,” Henry explained once he’d passed them around to everyone as well. Yours had your name on it and was colored like the morning sky with the sun in one corner and the moon in the other diagonally from it. Cute. “This includes the storage buildings, the maintenance buildings, the lake house, and so on. The buildings the kids are able to get into don’t have key readers locking them, but we obviously don’t want them getting into anywhere important, so the cards will come in handy for you all when necessary.” Man, they had key readers too? Add that to the list of things you wouldn’t have expected from a summer camp…

You nodded as you took in all the information, flipping the card in your hand before stuffing it into one of your pockets for safekeeping. Hopefully you wouldn’t lose it or anything. But just in case… “What do we do if we lose our card?”

“Just grab either Michael or I,” Henry responded, rummaging around in his bag once more so he could pull out a small notepad. “We should have backups. Actually, some of the storage rooms in the lodge require an actual key, so if you ever need access to them for whatever reason, just radio Michael. Now”—he cleared his throat and flipped open the notepad—“on to the tasks for the day.”

Michael was right earlier when he said the camp just needed some final touches. Your tasks mostly consisted of tidying up your cabin and helping Jeremy take inventory in the kitchen later. It beat having to lug around supply boxes, you supposed. You had a feeling Chica wanted to be the one doing the kitchen assignments, but a knowing look from Henry had her shoulders drooping as she resigned to her not-kitchen duties.

Henry flipped his notepad closed and dropped it back into his bag once he’d finished the task distribution. “After you’ve all finished your duties, you may relax. We’ve got a busy day tomorrow; it’s sure to be exhausting. I’ll be in my office if anyone needs me.” He made to step away towards the exit, but paused for a brief moment. “Oh, and Jeremy,” Henry started with an expectant look aimed at the younger man, “take Chica to maintenance to get her chest cavity cleaned out. Your double trays aren’t fooling me.”

Jeremy slumped over in his seat as Vincent started cackling, nearly inhaling the yogurt he was eating in the process. “Yessir.”

You grinned at Jeremy—partly in confusion and partly in amusement—while Henry walked away. “What was that all about?”

Michael snickered. “Chica’s not allowed to eat garbage anymore. It’s a hassle to clean out her chassis and messes with her wires.” Right. The robot chicken ate garbage. Maybe it was one of her features to help with composting or something.

“And why is she eating garbage in the first place?” Vanessa asked dryly, one of her thin eyebrows raised in question. “Doesn’t seem very delectable to me.”

Michael opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, Chica beat him to the punch. “It’s an acquired taste!” she squawked out, hand splayed on her pink chest as though in offense. “It helps reduce trash around the camp… kind of. I just gotta be sneakier so Henry doesn’t catch me.”

“Henry always knows though!” Sun tutted with a waggle of his index finger. “There’s no fooling him!” Chica only made a face. If she could, you think she’d be sticking her tongue out at Sun.

Michael shook his head in mirth and stood up. “Alright, alright, I should head out. Gotta lot of shit to go through with Freddy, especially since someone isn’t helping him check gear at the ropes course.” He gave a pointed look at Chica who glanced away and twiddled her thumbs together innocently.

“Yeah, I should get going too.” Jeremy stood as well and collected the two empty trays in front of him. You glanced over and noticed Vanessa was leaving too—having finished her last cup of coffee—and looked down at your own tray so you could shovel down the last bits of your breakfast. You were basically done anyways; might as well get going with your own chores.

“Hey— wait, wait, you’re all leaving? I just got here, c’mon!” Vincent exclaimed once he’d noticed you had finished your food and were about to leave with the others. “Rude! Utter blasphemy! I’m offended!”

“Should’ve woken up on time, then,” Vanessa sneered at him. While Vincent exploded into a tirade about why the comfort of his bed was too good to leave (all while scarfing down his food as quickly as possible), you noticed Chica was not-so-subtly eyeing the trash on your tray. You looked down at your empty containers, then to the side where Michael and Jeremy were already heading over to one of the large garbage bins littered around the mess hall.

Eh, she was getting her chest cleaned out anyways. What was the harm?

You slid your tray over to her with a wink and your index finger pressed against your lips. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Chica grinned at you and snatched up your leftovers so fast her hands were a blur. “You’re the best! Pleasure doin’ business with you!” And then she started stuffing the plastic and cardboard into her beak without even an ounce of shame. It was like you weren’t even in front of her anymore. Good for her.

Sun suddenly gasped from next to you, and you turned to give him a questioning look. Even with you standing and him still sitting on the table’s bench he wasn’t much shorter than you. His hands raised up to his faceplate so he could clutch at it. “Am I witnessing a crime? Right in front of me?!”

You suppressed a snort and reached your hands over to wiggle your fingers in front of his blank, white eyes. “Oooo you didn’t see aaanythingg! Reality is an illusion playing tricks on you, oooooo.”

“I don’t know, new friend,” Sun started, not bothering to move back as you continued to wiggle your fingers in a weak attempt to hypnotize him or something. “That seemed very, very real to me!” He leaned forward suddenly and you had to pull back your hands before you’d accidentally poke him in the eyes. Not that he would feel it, you supposed. Mischief lined his smile as he asked, “And how are you going to buy our silence, hm?”

You paused and let out a thoughtful hum, one of your hands rubbing at your chin in thought. He was playing around with you in light jest, you knew he was, and you wanted to return the energy. What could you— Aha! You snapped your fingers, mind thinking back to a previous conversation. “I’ll do you a solid!”

Sun’s rays spun delightfully around his head. There is no hesitation before his response. “You’ve got yourself a deal, my friend! Put ‘er here!” He leaned back and stuck a hand out towards you. Grasping it, you gave him a swift handshake and a nod of your head like you’d just signed a big business contract with him. His palm was much larger than yours—disproportionate like the rest of his body—and oddly cool. At least the silicon that covered most of his metal was soft and cushiony.

You shook your head in good nature and drew back your hand. It likely wouldn’t amount to much, though you felt like you were in elementary school again for real. Better get used to it. “Cash it in whenever you feel. Just don’t go making me do something stupid, you hear?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” His eyes upturned in amusement.

“Are you guys staying orrr—?” a voice abruptly called from afar and you turned to see Michael and Jeremy idling by the entrance of the mess hall. Vanessa, it seemed, had gotten tired of Vincent’s rambling and was already walking past Michael and Jeremy to tend to her tasks for the day, her hand raised in farewell.

“We’re coming!” you called back and gathered up your tray in one hand and your water bottle in the other. “Let’s go,” you said to Sun with a jerk of your head. The clicking and whirring of his internal mechanisms followed you as you trotted past Vincent (still shoveling food into his mouth) and towards Michael and Jeremy. You lifted up the tray with a questioning look and Jeremy pointed to a large container set atop a small table by the garbage bins. They’d need to get washed later—a task you and Jeremy would likely have to do when you came back later for inventory.

After depositing your tray in the container, you and Sun joined up with the two men, then glanced back when Vincent called out a “Wait! Wait! I’m done!” He scrambled after you all, wiping his mouth on his sleeve as he practically tossed his tray into the container (void of any garbage, you noted, trying to suppress the urge to look in Chica’s direction) and skidded to a stop at your side. “Jeez, you guys couldn’t have waited like, two more minutes?”

Michael gave him a sly grin. “Knowing you? It would’ve turned into ten minutes, then ten more minutes, and nothing would’ve gotten done.”

Vincent scoffed. “Says who? I am very serious when it comes to my job, you know.” He waved you all forward and your group took that as an indication to start making your way out of the mess hall and into the warm sunlight of early morning. A breeze gently pushed around stray strands of your hair. Chica lingered back in the mess hall, and you had a feeling she’d go through the garbage bins once you were all gone. You respected the hustle.

“Right,” Michael snorted, “the radio station’s that way.” He pointed off to the left of the mess hall, where the maintenance building was—away from the path you were all currently on to take you in the direction of the rest of the camp.

“I know that! I just wanna grab my headphones from my room, first,” Vincent responded with a roll of his eyes.

“Oh yeah, Henry said you’re on radio duty?” you asked curiously as you looked at Vincent striding next to you, his hands in his pockets. Sun was right behind you, his long shadow casting itself on the ground before you. “I didn’t know we had a camp-wide P.A. system.”

“Yeah, it’s completely new, actually,” Vincent told you. He gestured a hand off to the right of the path, and you followed it to see two workers doing some touch-ups on a speaker positioned near the top of a lamp post. “Just got installed last month for morning announcements and the like. Henry put me in charge of it.” He flashed you a wicked grin and you had to wonder if that was the best idea. “I’m gonna run through some final checks to make sure it’s working properly. Might hear me do some mic tests later.”

“That definitely won’t end in chaos,” Jeremy added, then yelped when Vincent reached over to aggressively noogie the top of his head, poor guy. “My hair, dude!”

“You all have no faith in me, whatsoever.” Vincent sniffed and drew his hand back to place it directly over his heart. “I’m heartbroken. Really.” You snickered at his words.

“Yeah well, with good reason!” Michael shook his head, then started making his way down another path that split apart from the main one you were on. “Anyways, I’m heading this way, catch you guys later!”

“Wuh— Wait! I gotta go that way too!” Jeremy yelped and jogged after Michael, nearly tripping over his own two feet in the process. Michael chuckled and placed an arm around the shorter male’s shoulders to help him catch his balance.

“Bye guys!” You waved them off, then paused as you squinted after Jeremy’s receding back. “Wait… wasn’t he supposed to be cleaning out Chica?”

“It’s better to do that at the end of the day, new friend!” Sun replied. He gestured at you and Vincent to continue your walk towards the cabins. You tilted your head at his words.

“She’ll just go back to eating more trash otherwise and the whole process will have to be repeated more times than necessary,” Vincent explained once he’d noticed your confusion. Your mouth opened in a silent ‘o’ in understanding. That made sense.

“Seems like you’re all accustomed to her eating habits, then,” you mused as you swung your water bottle back and forth. Leaves and dirt crunched under your shoes and blended in with the cacophony of sounds that bustled through the woods around you.

Vincent let out a small groan and threw his head back. “Newbie, you wouldn’t believe how many times we’ve had to do this song and dance with her.

Sun nodded as he bounced with every step he took. “Chica’s a force to be reckoned with!”

You chuckled. “I bet.”

It wasn’t much longer until the cabins came into view. Vincent waved goodbye as he made a beeline for his cabin, leaving you and Sun to head up into yours and start tidying around the place. The sheets had to be thrown into the dryers, the floor needed to be swept and mopped, the beds needed to be further dusted and resheeted, and cobwebs needed to be removed from the corners of the main room.

It wasn’t hard work, but it was kind of tedious. You wouldn’t have had as much of a good time if it was only you, so you were thankful that Sun was there to help and chat with you about this and that. He was quite funny when given the chance and very energetic. You both shared a quick laugh when Vincent’s voice filtered through the P.A. system (“Testing, testing, one two three,” Vincent’s voice echoed through the speakers around the camp. “Oh sweet, we’re live.” He cleared his throat. “We interrupt this program for an important announcement: Michael smells.”) and you found yourself wondering how exactly a sense of humor was coded into an animatronic.

One thing was for sure, though. Sun was certainly more efficient than you, you noticed, as you struggled to resheet one bed while he’d already finished three. Robots, you pondered to yourself while you fluffed up a pillow. Such interesting creations… if not a bit intimidating.

With all the cleaning done at the cabin, you eventually ventured out to the kitchen to get started on inventory. Sun walked you over, then skipped off elsewhere to help Roxy with doing a maintenance check on all the charging stations. You radioed Jeremy to let him know you were there, then spent the next few hours talking with him as you went through a list of supplies Henry had given him. He was quite the video game nerd, and you both found yourselves immersed in a conversation about the graphics and plotlines of various franchises.

Eventually—as the sun dipped towards the horizon and cast the sky in a gradient of burnt mandarin and pastel pinks—you found yourself lounging around in your room as you flipped through the packet you’d gotten from Henry. You were fresh out of the shower and content to lay in bed and listen to the emerging sounds of nightlife as evening came and went. Crickets chirped under your window—the curtains open to let in the dewy moonlight that contrasted against the warm light inside the cabin—and leaves rustled in the distance from the trees swaying gently back and forth.

It was calm—peaceful.

…And it had suddenly been broken by a quiet, eerie creeaaak.

You looked up, your head lifting from your pillow as you stared at your open bedroom door leading into the main room. The lights were off in there, the darkness interrupted only by the bulb you had on in your room. Were you… hearing things? You slowly sat up and slipped your flip-flops on, your hand still holding onto your packet as some sort of flimsy weapon (just in case you needed to chase out a raccoon or something). Maybe a window accidentally opened?

You shuffled gently over to your open doorway and peered out, eyes narrowing when you noticed the front door was slightly ajar. Did you not close it properly earlier? You frowned, and before your nerves could get the best of you from your thoughts spiraling into what-ifs, you made your way over to the door. Your flip-flops slapped against the bottoms of your feet with every step. You reached out a hand and quietly shut the door—ensuring that you heard the click that signified it was properly closed.

There. You let out a breath and made a motion as though to turn back around. But before you could, you noticed the top half of the door had taken on a red hue broken only by your shadow—a light from behind you that hadn’t been there before. You paused, then nearly jumped out of your skin when something cold and hard gripped tightly onto your shoulder.

You abruptly spun around—the hand still gripping your packet whipping through the air to smack against whatever was behind you. A slight metal clang rang through the quiet cabin air. There was a short moment of silence.

“Ow,” Moon’s voice droned flatly from behind the packet you’d smacked onto his faceplate. He was hanging upside down somehow, right behind you. It felt like your heart was about to explode out of your chest.

“Moon!” you wheezed out, lifting the packet just enough to see him gazing at you with those red eyes of his. You gave him another soft smack. “Stop doing that what the fuck?!” How did he get you with the same jumpscare twice?! What was that saying again? Fool me once, shame on you… You decided not to finish that thought.

“Language,” was Moon’s response as his eyes upturned into crescents. His head made a soft clicking sound as it rotated around until his face was the right side up. His hat moved with it (how had it not fallen off??), the bell attached to the end jingling faintly with the motion.

You ignored him. “Nearly gave me a fucking heart attack! Again! I would’ve been dead on my second night here!”

Moon snickered at your heated words. “The look on your face. Funny.”

You huffed and stuck a finger at him, right between his eyes while you made your voice as threatening as possible. “I’ll remember this. Sleep with one eye open.”

“We don’t sleep,” he replied in amusement, then lifted himself back up towards the ceiling. Your gaze followed him, watching as he crawled along the slanted ceiling on all fours like he was some kind of creepy supernatural creature. You could barely make out his figure in the dark, aided only by the light from your room (that Moon avoided) and the red glow of his eyes.

“How are you even doing that?” you asked, wholly flabbergasted as your eyes trailed after him. He hardly made a sound—not a jingle of his bells nor a thump of his hands and feet.

“Magic,” was his short response. You huffed.

“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes and made your way back to your room so you could lay back in bed. No reason to be standing in the main room, after all.

“Do you need to recharge or something?” you called out once you’d thrown yourself atop your blankets. Your flip-flops were kicked off to the side as you made yourself comfortable and cracked the packet back open to the spot you’d left off at. Your feet ached with all the walking you’d done both yesterday and today, soothed by the softness of your sheets.

“No,” Moon rasped, and his voice sounded closer than you’d expected. You peered over the top of your packet to see a long arm descending from the top of your bedroom doorway. One of your eyebrows raised as the hand attached to it roamed down the inside wall of your room until it found a small switch. And without any warning, it flicked off the lights.

You blinked and widened your eyes as much as possible in an attempt to adjust to the sudden change. It didn’t stop you from seeing Moon crawl his way into your room along the ceiling, though. It was like a scene fresh out of a horror movie. Creepy. He stopped right above you and looked down at you laying on your bed beneath him. The red lighting from his eyes tinted your body in a hellish glow. You tried not to feel too perturbed by him, but it was a bit hard.

“...You need something?” you asked as you stared up at him. His head cocked to the side, and before you could even react, he reached down and snatched up the packet in your hands with his large fingers. You made a swipe up at him, but he quickly retreated out of your reach. “Hey!”

“Pop quiz time,” he told you in a low voice and flicked almost lazily through your packet.

You snorted and gave up on trying to get your packet back. You laid back down, your arms crossed behind your head. “This is a summer camp, not school.”

“Doesn’t matter. Do as Professor Moon says,” he dismissed you and finally stopped on one of the packet’s pages. He made a sound as though he was clearing his throat. “Question one… Where are the first aid kits located?”

You rolled your eyes and decided to indulge him. “There’s one in every building, though if a kid were to get injured it’s preferred to take them to the health center by the main pavilion. The one in this cabin is right there.” You pointed over to the top of your armoire, where a small, red box was tucked neatly upon it.

“Ding ding ding! Correct!” Moon flipped to another page. “Question two… What does a typical camp day look like?”

You hummed and did your best to recall the words you’d memorized earlier. “Wake up at eight,” you recited slowly, “get the kids ready. Go over the schedule for the day with them, take them to breakfast at nine… then the first activity of the day… and so on.” It was a pretty linear schedule, all in all.

“And as assistant counselor you are to…?” Moon’s gaze lifted from the packet to peer down at you.

“Help you and Sun, mostly,” you said. “Watch over the kids for each activity. Walk around camp when they’re allowed to go off on their own.”

“Correct!” Moon chuckled and flipped to another page. “Keep this up and you’ll be my best student yet.”

“I’m your only student, Moon.”

He ignored you. “Next question! What time is the radio check supposed to be?”

You had to think a little, but it was pretty simple. “Eight-thirty in the morning.”

“Ding ding ding! Little smartypants.” He hummed and went all the way to the back of the packet. “Let’s up the difficulty, shall we?” Uh oh. “What… are the radio codes?”

Shit. You hadn’t really studied that part too much yet. Your face scrunched up slightly as you did your best to remember what you’d skimmed. “Uhh… Code red means injury… blue means incoming storm… silver means…” Hell, you didn’t remember. “...Missing child?”

Moon made a sound like a buzzer on a T.V. show when a question was answered incorrectly. “Wrong!” He reached down and lightly slapped the top of your head with the packet. You let out an indignant “hey!” and moved your hands to shield your face, just in case. “Purple means missing child.” He tutted at you and waved one of his fingers side to side. “Someone didn’t stuuudyyy.”

“Oh come on, I was close! Kind of!” you protested and peeked up at him through your arms. His faceplate rotated to the side, a steady click click click sound coming from it. The unnatural way some of his body parts moved would take some getting used to for sure. You moved your arms to cross them over your chest when it didn’t seem like he would smack you again. Talk about payback… “I hadn’t gotten that far in the packet, yet.”

“Excuses, excuses.” He slowly shook his head as though to show his immeasurable disappointment in you. It only made you roll your eyes at him again.

A sudden thought struck you. “Hey, speaking of the radio…” you trailed off as you turned your head to the left to look at the small nightstand positioned near your bed. On top of it was your water bottle and the walkie talkie. You reached over to grab the walkie and held it in front of your face so you could stare at the dials and small, digitized screen. “You can talk through this thing too, right?” It was kind of cool that the animatronics could tune into the correct radio frequencies, not that you’d say that out loud.

Moon cocked his head to the side, but nodded. “Our private channel is…?”

It took you a moment to realize he was still quizzing you, so you turned one of the dials on the walkie and lifted it up towards him so he could peer at the screen. When he only nodded again, you grinned and brought the walkie down to your mouth. You pressed one of the buttons on its side. “Moon? Come in Moon, over.”

You didn’t hear your voice or anything from his end, but the way his faceplate slowly rotated around let you know it had worked. There was a moment of silence. Then, Moon’s voice started filtering through your walkie. It made your grin widen. It was weird hearing his voice from the walkie and not from directly above you. It was also overlaid with so much more static. “Yeeees, newbie? Over.”

“Wow, talk about trippy,” you said delightfully, your mouth away from the walkie. You brought it back to your face. “Come closer, over.”

If he could, you think he’d be raising his eyebrows up at you. He seemed to contemplate your request, then slowly lowered himself down towards you. Suppressing a smile, you spoke into the walkie again. “Closer, over.”

He inched down further. You had to bite your lip. “Closer!”

“Is this good enough? Over.” Moon dryly asked once his face was directly above your own, a foot of space in between you both. By now, his faceplate was back in its normal position.

You grinned wildly and set the walkie back down on the nightstand. “Perfect!” And without further ado, you reached your hand up to swipe your fingers across his faceplate—right above his smile. “Got your nose!”

You practically threw yourself off your bed with a laugh and scampered over to your armoire to stand next to it. When you spun yourself around to look back at Moon, you saw he was still in the same position he was in before—only now he had turned his torso around to look at you. A snicker left your lips as he seemed to reboot, then he flipped himself down from the ceiling to land lightly on the floor like a nimble cat, not a single sound coming from him. Color you impressed, though you couldn't deny it was... worrying.

“We don’t have a nose,” he growled out playfully at you as he stalked slowly closer. His arms raised up to splay out in a grabbing position, legs positioned in a wide stance.

“Then what do I have right here, huh?” You taunted him as you waved your hand in the air, your thumb trapped between your index and middle finger to mime a nose. His gaze followed your hand and he moved one of his own to his faceplate in a way that made you laugh. You walked slowly to the right, towards the window. “Bet you weren’t expecting that! I told you you’d made yourself an enemy last night!”

“Trickster, trickster,” Moon rasped as he bent down slightly as though to lunge at you. Your gaze flickered down to his legs, then back up to his face. His eyes narrowed. “That was sneaky!”

You only stuck your tongue out at him. And before he could dart forward to grab you, you dove down to the floor so you could scramble between his legs and make a run for your open doorway. A laugh lingered on your tongue, but unfortunately, you were a human. And he was a robot. A particularly dexterous robot.

“Gotcha!” Moon snagged the back of your shirt and dragged you back towards him. You yelped and felt him grab onto the sides of your arms to hoist you into the air. His hands were cold, and it made a shiver run involuntarily down your spine. You wriggled around and turned your head to look back at him, but you couldn’t see much other than his shoulder.

“Moon! Let me go!” You struggled something furious, but you couldn’t break the iron grip he had on you. He chuckled lowly and spun around towards your bed. With just two long strides, he came up to the side of your bed and dumped you on top of it. You bounced slightly and turned yourself around on your side so you could look up at him, but he was already leaning over you and reaching for your hand. One of his hands pressed against your shoulder to pin you to your bed—no matter how you fought against him, you couldn’t escape. Your eyes widened and in that instance, you did the only thing you could think of.

You raised your hand up to your lips so you could mime stuffing his nose into your mouth and swallowing it whole. There was a pregnant pause.

“You ate my nose?!” Moon asked incredulously and you bursted out into peals of laughter at the offended sound of his voice. A stitch was starting to form on your side. “Troublemaker! Nuisance!”

“Haha! Yes! And what’re you gonna do abo— Hey!” You barely had time to taunt him before he was reaching out a hand to pinch at your own nose between two long fingers. You struggled against him, but before you could reach out to smack his chest or something, he drew back. You rubbed at your sore nose as you glared at him dancing back towards the window, his hand waving in the air before you.

“Got your nose!” His grin widened mockingly as he hopped from one foot to the other in delight. His red eyes upturned. His bells jingled with each step. “Bedtime for you! Go sleep!”

“Moooon,” you said warningly as you shifted around on your bed with full intent to lunge at him. But before you could move a muscle, he darted to your window, wrenched it open, and crawled out of it outside like the demon he was. You gaped after him for a second, then scrambled over to the window letting the cool breeze of night into your room.

“Moon!? Get back here!” you whisper-shouted as you stuck your head through the window and squinted around in the dark. Your eyes took a moment to adjust, but by then it was too late. He was gone, just like that, nothing but a quiet laugh echoing through the air.

You slumped forward, then huffed and rolled your eyes. Whatever. There was no way you were going out there to chase him. You’ll get back at him in the morning. Besides, Moon was right. You needed to sleep; you had a long day ahead of you tomorrow.

You closed the window so that it was only open a crack, then moved to plop down on your bed. You breathed in deeply and closed your eyes, the distant jingling of bells following you into your dreams.

a/n: btw, the pills taken were aleve LOL and according to its website u can crush/chew them (with a glass of water), but it's not advised. make good choices kids, trust me, i know everything (i do not know everything)

part three

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imtryingmybeskar · 1 year

Text

Come Home Chapter Thirteen

Joel Miller x F! Reader.

Word count - 4359

Well, it's finally springtime and you and Joel take that trip out to the museum. If you're still reading then you know what Joel's plans for Ellie's sixteenth birthday are by now. I adore the museum scene, its so wholesome.

Also given that Ellie calls Joel a dinosaur in that scene, I had to make some double entendre about riding them. Entirely necessary.

Come Home

Chapter Thirteen - Feel

SPRING

Gentle, tinkling, tiny, joyful sounds. Warmth that is undeniably sunlight across your arm. Freshness and dew cut with an undercurrent of Joel as you inhale deeply and come back to yourself. Your eyes flutter open and are met with cool, blue surroundings, dappled above with patches of sunshine and shadow.

You sit up abruptly, your sleeping bag rustling as it falls away from your body, and you suddenly realise what this all means.

“Goddamnit Joel,” you huff as you scrub the sleep from your eyes, extricate yourself from your bedding and crawl toward the tent opening.

He’s sitting on a log stump outside and tuning his guitar, long fingers plucking softly at the strings and the sounds mixing with the sweeping birdsong that's heralding the morning. A pot sizzles over a flame and two cups wait to be filled next to a thermos.

“Mornin’” he greets you, briefly looking up from his task with a knowing smile.

“Joel-“ you begin in a warning tone.

“Yeah, I know, I know. But I figured you needed the rest after yesterday.”

You busy yourself with the cups, pouring each of you a small measure of coffee that had been hot twenty four hours ago and was now merely lukewarm.

“We’re gonna have to boil some water if we want more of this,” you remark offhandedly. “And I’m fine after yesterday.”

He raises a disbelieving eyebrow and you try not to wince at the ache between your thighs.

“Sure didn’t seem like it the amount of noise you were makin’ last night.”

“Alright…mister…cowboy,” you say, struggling to come up with a suitable insult and failing miserably. “We’re not all from Texas you know.”

“You sayin’ I’m a cowboy jus’ ‘cause ahm from Texas?” he asks in mock affront, overly exaggerating his soft accent as he does.

“I’m saying that I think you’re more used to riding horses long distances than I am,” you reply. “And you gotta stop letting me sleep in. The sun’s way up. We’ll never get there at this rate.”

“Alright, I promise. Crack of dawn tomorrow,” he smiles.

“Well…maybe not the crack of dawn,” you mutter before you take a sip of watered down coffee.

“Crack of noon, then.”

“Joel!”

He laughs at your frustration with him. “Fine, we’ll keep better hours. Well…that is to say I’ll make you keep better hours.”

“Never thought I’d miss the alarm on my phone. I’m sorry I’m so shit at waking up. I don’t know how you manage to sneak out every morning without me noticing.”

“Oh, you are dead to the world,” he replies, then winces and mutters, “Oof that’s a poor choice of words.”

“Just a bit!”

“I’ll kick you awake tomorrow, how’s that for an alarm?”

“As long as you stay away from my saddle sores we’ll be fine, Miller.”

He chuckles and places his guitar gently against the tree stump before going to fiddle with the pot on the stove. What you knew, what you were absolutely not prepared to talk about was that you were sleeping so well because of him. To reduce the amount you had to carry on this trip out, it had been agreed that you would bring one large tent instead of two individual ones. By Maria’s calendar it was mid-March. The days were longer and the sun was actually starting to feel warm now, but the nights and evenings were still chilly, and you were always grateful for the extra warmth he had provided within the tent when you would change over the watch in the middle of the night. Not to mention the comfort of having him so close, knowing he was just outside and keeping you safe while you slept.

When you had announced that you would be going out for several days alone, Ellie hadn’t been able to resist.

“Oh yeeeaaaah?” she had said, an exaggerated leer on her face.

Joel had sighed in a deeply put upon way. “Chrissake Ellie, you know the routes ain’t been maintained as well as they should have been over winter. There’s gotta be infected that have thawed out, movin’ around again. You want them at the door?”

“Yeah but… why for so long? And why just you two? Group patrols are a thing you know. I’m just sayin’ you have been going out together a lot.” She over-enunciated the last word, snapped the ‘t’ sound harshly.

“Yeah, well, we work well together. And Tommy’s busy with the dam and-tsk! What am I doin’ explainin’ myself to you? You just do what Maria says when I’m away and concentrate on that farmin’ rotation you’ve been given.”

She had folded her arms and looked disgusted. “Urgh, don’t remind me. I think I’d even rather be with you loved-up fogeys than do that shit.”

You had barely been able to stifle your laughter at the look of outrage on Joel’s face. “Ellie-!”

“Oh calm your beard. I know, I know. ‘Nothin’ goin’ on.’”

At that moment you had caught her amused look and a thought had struck you. Was this more than a teenager teasing her father to the point of exasperation? Did Ellie want there to be something between you? She had quickly looked back at Joel who was in the middle of telling her what a pain she was, but you were almost sure of it. For some reason, Ellie wanted this to happen.

It was a notion that had played on your mind a lot as you had journeyed through the freshly budding forest toward the museum. It would explain why she had been making more and more frequent plans for the three of you. For dinner, or to play cards or games, or to occasionally watch movies – the usual things - but then she would leave abruptly, citing tiredness or a forgotten meeting with friends leaving you and Joel alone to spend the evenings together. Though perhaps you were overthinking it and she really did just want to go to sleep, or hang around with people her own age. It would also explain her odd behaviour the evening you had overheard her argument with Joel, at least partially.

Your feelings about him were pretty straightforward. Over the past few months, thanks in part to you being neighbours, to Ellie’s apparent scheming, and the fact you didn’t have much interest in being close with a ton of people, you had spent a fair bit of time with him and had grown to enjoy his company more and more. His humour, which fluctuated between gentle wit and outright acerbity, the cleverness of his mind and of his fingers which could work wood in a way that enthralled you, his kindness toward you and toward Ellie, and of course his physical self, so solid and broad and commanding. Yeah, you were pretty sure your feelings had developed way past the crush stage.

Your thoughts around what you were feeling were a completely different story. Though you had settled into your house, though your panic attacks had abated to the point of being an occasional issue to deal with rather than a thing to dread day to day, you found yourself unable to cross that threshold and begin to embrace the things that you had left behind on the filthy vinyl flooring of a hospital in Portland. That he had managed to get under your skin in just a few short months was alarming, and you still couldn’t pick apart what came from him and what came from the cradling of the security that Jackson itself offered. That you laughed more often, spoke more freely – were these the effects of the tentative sparks in your heart, or just a relaxation of the grip that constant survival had upon your mind and body?

If your behaviours had changed toward him beyond the intricacies of a simple blossoming friendship, he hadn’t seemed to notice, and you hoped you weren’t as transparent about your feelings as you thought you were, though you suspected that some of the people closest to you had an inkling.

On your last patrol, a standard creek run, Vanessa had accompanied you and had brought up the subject as you had ridden through the now fully thawed, though still freezing cold waters.

“So…you and Joel, huh?”

“Oh fuck, not you as well!” you had groaned loudly.

“He’s a handsome man. If I were ten years younger…” she had pursed her lips into a kissy face and raised her eyebrows suggestively.

“Why is everyone so obsessed with something that’s not actually happening?” you had wondered to the forest in general.

“Because we live in a small town and there’s not much juicy gossip around?” Vanessa had laughed. “Most folks are paired off already, so when the possibility of two, single, attractive people getting together arises, there’s gonna be some talk.” You opened your mouth to reply but she cut you off immediately. “And don’t come all that shy shit about not being pretty. You are. So’s he. Deal with it.”

You sighed. “Just don’t let him hear any of it. Between you and Ellie he’s gonna have an aneurysm.”

“So you two really never-“

“No!” you exclaimed, more forcefully than you had intended. Vanessa looked a little taken aback and you sighed and spoke more normally. “Not that I’d kick him out of bed-“ her grin stretched widely across her face “-but it’s complicated! He lives right next door. He’s got Ellie to think of. I have a whole fuckload of shitty baggage. And if anything did happen and it went bad what happens then? Do I just…leave? Take my chances outside? Fuck that, I’ve gotten too used to hot water! If it’s a choice between Joel and sleeping in a proper bed, I’m choosing the bed.”

You rode along in silence for a minute or so. Then-

“He’s got a bed too y’know.”

“Jesus, Ness! Let it go,” you had said laughingly.

“Okay, okay fine. Let’s go kill some shit.”

After that, you had begun to notice some of the looks that came your way when you and Joel were together – either at the bar, or when you would be in the stables preparing to ride out together, or even just walking around town. Some of the looks were appraising, some interested, some even a little unfriendly. Joel didn’t seem to notice at all, and you had no idea if that came from a place of obliviousness or intentionality.

The journey to the museum had been pretty uneventful thus far, barring a few lone and wandering infected and the fact that you had to physically clear quite a few paths through the trees with your machete, so you had been able to enjoy how beautiful the forest was in spring – warm dappled sun slanting through the trees, birdsong, trickling streams, the soft wafting of gentle breezes bringing the scent of blossom with them. But riding for so long every day through uneven terrain was definitely taking a toll, and even though you had tried to hide your discomfort from Joel he had worked it out pretty quickly and slowed the pace from the ten hour rides you had been doing. It did help the chafing of your inner thighs. It also meant more time with him, and that wasn’t ever a bad thing.

Your favourite parts of the journey had been the evenings you had spent together – three so far. While Joel prepared the food, you would set up the tent and bedding, and after eating you would sit and talk under the canopy of stars. It was simple, and very much like the routine you had found yourself falling into with him in Jackson, but being outside lent an additional sense of romance to it all. It was silly, you knew that. After all, you and he had both spent many nights sleeping outside out of necessity over the years. And all it took was for one infected to stumble into your camp for the rose tinted vision you had to come crashing down with force. But you allowed yourself to indulge while you could. To listen to his gravelly, whispery tones as he sang softly and strummed his guitar. To watch for shooting stars and pick out the constellations you knew among the mass of twinkling above. To look at him in the moonlight as he cleaned and re-packed the cooking and eating utensils, his movements sparse and graceful.

“Okay, hold up.”

Joel is slowing to a halt ahead and you pull up alongside him to see why. There is a somewhat clear path ahead, a break in the trees where you can see rusted hulks of metal under the snaking green that is slowly reclaiming all in its path. A bus shelter, covered in moss and trailing vines stands to one side, patiently awaiting passengers that will never arrive.

“We getting close?”

He pulls a map from a pocket inside his coat and studies it for a moment before he nods. “Probably another hour’s ride or so. If nothin’ gets in the way.”

“Just don’t say it’ll be smooth sailing or some shit. Else we’re bound to get swarmed.”

He grins at you before setting off again, leading you down the middle of the cracked tarmacked street. Cars are still few and far between here, some with skeletal occupants inside, most abandoned. The grass is beginning to sprout high now there is no layer of snow flattening it, and you hear the skitter of small animals as they run to the safety of the trees while you make your way through their home. Their presence is reassuring. Though animals can’t get infected in the same way that humans can, they still don’t enjoy the company of the fungus anymore than you do. You’re surprised by the lack of infected around, and you voice this to Joel.

“Could be any number of reasons,” he shrugs, keeping his voice low regardless of the apparent safety around you. “This area wasn’t too populated in the best of times. Maybe winter meant they couldn’t move around as much as they usually do. Hell, maybe they migrated south when it got cold. Who knows with those things…oh no.” This last is groaned and you too feel a weariness when you see what he does.

“Welp.” Joel sighs as he surveys the gaping sinkhole that has broken the line of the road you are following. “Guess we’re back to fightin’ our way through.”

You divert from the remnants of the road and begin to struggle your way through the undergrowth, Joel picking the paths of least resistance. The sound of running water grows steadily clearer until you can see the gleam of it through the thinning trees to your right. You follow the fat, slow moving stream as it meanders its way through the landscape, the bank that you are on growing ever higher as you do. Finally, the path narrows to a point that it would be dangerous for the horses to traverse it even in single file, and Joel jumps down from his mount.

“The museum should be right around here. We’re gonna have to leave the horses for a bit.”

“You sure they’ll be okay?”

“Lots of grass, no infected around. They’ll be fine. Probably happy to have a break.”

Joel takes point again, pulling back branches as he goes to make your egress easier while you hug the rocky bank of the stream as it curves below you. A few springtime flowers have begun to push through – tiny purple blue periwinkles, small yellow primroses, startlingly white azaleas that stretch in patches across the earth and mix with the greenery that is also emerging. The small trail of dirt you have been able to follow thus far very rapidly runs out as boulders of increasing size begin to be strewn across your way and loom large to the left. You cast about for another track, but it seems clear what you have to do.

“Looks like we’re swimmin’” Joel sighs, echoing your thoughts.

“I was gonna ask if this water looks clean enough to wash in. Guess I’m about to find out.”

You take the time to button your shirt up over your plain white t-shirt underneath. No need to put on a show, after all. Then you walk down the muddy bank and step tentatively into the water, grimacing as the cold almost immediately rushes into your boots and soaks your socks. Even here in the water there are challenges to overcome. A fallen tree blocks your progression and you take a deep breath before diving underneath it, avoiding the clutches of the branches that spike from it in random directions and the exposed roots that burst from the river bank itself. A hollow in a rock ahead forms a small, submerged tunnel that there is no other way around, and you force yourself to follow Joel and pass through it quickly before you can begin to panic about getting trapped underneath.

After a good five minutes of swimming you reach a place where the stream opens out into a pool, and you both take a moment to survey your surroundings, the high sides of the banks on each side looking like an insurmountable obstacle to your journey onward.

“Which direction?” you ask as you tread water. Joel indicates with a wave of his hand and you point out a place that looks as good as any for landing. He heaves himself up on to the slimy, moss encrusted rock lip and then reaches down to you to give you a helping hand up.

“Thanks,” you say breathlessly as you stand, shaking your hands out to try and rid yourself of some of the moisture that now permeates all of your clothes. You try very hard not to look at the way Joel’s wet shirt is now stuck to his skin, the way it hugs the curve of his shoulders and biceps.

“Should just be through there,” he says, pointing in a direction that looks a lot like every other. You begin to move through the trees again, now both dripping a trail of water behind you.

“So what made you think of this as a present?” you ask.

“Honestly, I wasn’t sure what I could get her. I wanted to do somethin’ for her instead y’know? And she told me she wanted to be an astronaut once, so I thought…well I thought about what I woulda done with Sarah. She loved museums, was always draggin’ me to them. And so I looked at the map and wouldn’t ya know…Science museum.”

“That’s sweet.”

“Just practical really,” he says, shortly but not unkindly.

On a few of the evenings you had spent with Joel after being abandoned by Ellie he had mentioned Sarah in passing. What she liked. Things she and Ellie would have bonded over. And once, when a few glasses of wine had been taken, a regret that he had spent so many hours working late when he could have been with her. You hadn’t asked what had happened. Hadn’t needed to. That she wasn’t here and Ellie was told the story very clearly.

“Well, I think this is it,” Joel says, breaking into your thoughts with faint amusement in his voice. You follow the direction of where he’s looking and chuckle.

A life-size Tyrannosaurus Rex stands mightily in the middle of a clearing, ivy twining all the way up its tail to wrap around one of its puny arms. The sun keeps disappearing and reappearing behind some distinctly grey-ish looking clouds and the dappled sunlight adds to its colouring, painting it with stripes of shadow that look like camouflage. It is magnificent, completely intact and standing as king of a small island surrounded by an unplanned lake that you presume is fed by the same stream by which you came, and that laps against the rotting wooden benches that stand here and there. With the trees surrounding it, it looks as if it belongs here in a way that you do not, as if you had been transported back to a time when humanity didn’t exist at all rather than at near-extinction.

The heavy double doors that are the gateway to the museum open easily enough, their shattered glass crunching under your feet as you enter the main atrium. Grass and vines and branches from the trees outside have encroached here, a carpet and wallpaper of nature that breathes life into the dead space and unintentionally adds a more natural backdrop to the dinosaur skeletons that greet you upon arrival.

“Guns out?” you ask Joel, quietly. Though the air is still and all is silent, and it looks as if this place has lain undisturbed since the outbreak, you could never be totally sure.

“Sounds like a plan,” he agrees, drawing his own.

You move through the darkened corridor into another room, this one lit brightly by the sunlight streaming through a lichen-streaked glass ceiling above. There are several complete dinosaur skeletons here, and as you contemplate the bones it suddenly strikes you how odd it is that these dead things are the same as they were twenty, fifty, a million years ago, yet humanity had gone through a similar extinction event but would leave no legacy except crumbling buildings that would very soon be dust. The bones of the dinosaurs had outlived the humans that had found them so fascinating, and there would be no one to remember the remains of the dominant species before the fungus, no one to witness their passing or mourn their achievements. It was an uncomfortable, maudlin feeling. You reach out and stroke the beak of the mighty Triceratops standing before you.

“Your favourite?”

“Yeah, it was. Is. I don’t think anyone really grows out of having a favourite dinosaur do they?”

“Don’t they?”

You turn to Joel with a disbelieving expression no words required.

“Okay, fine,” he relents laughingly. “I’d have to say my favourite would be…the velociraptor. Those guys were smart. In Jurassic Park at least.”

“Smart enough to be here when we aren’t,” you murmur, your eyes back on the horns and frill of the one in front of you.

“Hey, we’re here aren’t we?” You can hear the continued smile in his voice and it brings one to your own face, stirring a sense of energised recklessness within you. Fuck it. You are here, when so many others aren't. And you aren't going to waste this opportunity.

"You're right. And I'm gonna do something I always wanted to."

You climb the barrier into the place where the Triceratops stands and gingerly press against the bones that are held together with wires, then shake them a little more insistently. They seem sturdy enough.

“Give me a boost, will you?”

“You goin’ up there?” he asks incredulously.

“Joel, I’m going to tell you a secret about women that will blow your mind and is, essentially, the secret to understanding us. All of them, every single woman that ever walked this earth wanted to ride a dinosaur into battle like some prehistoric Valkyrie.”

“That sounds extremely specific,” he grins. “You sure it’s not just you?”

“Nope. All women. True fact.”

“What about the women that didn’t know what dinosaurs were? Like, before they were discovered.” he asks as he joins you next to the Triceratops.

“Nuh-uh,” you say, holding up an admonishing finger at him. “Your logic isn’t welcome here, Miller. All of them. Trust me. And thank me when you use that information to get a date.”

He opens his mouth, no doubt to impart some sassy retort, but instead merely gives you an extremely unimpressed look before sighing heavily and bending down so you can boost yourself up. The skeleton sways a little as you drag yourself into position, but it holds and you shift your backside over the uncomfortable ridges of the bones underneath you before raising your arms triumphantly as you sit behind the big, bony plate on its head.

“Haaaa! I am the dinosaur queen!” you exclaim, forgetting for a moment where you are and the fact that you have not explored this place thoroughly. You slap a hand over your mouth and look down at Joel with wide eyes, listening intently. Silence. No nightmare noises, no rush of infected or living to investigate the source of the sound. Just the cool, still, peaceful air around you.

“Fuck yeah!” you add, lifting your arms to the sky again once you’re sure nothing is coming to get you.

“Christ, woman, you’re worse than the kid,” Joel laughs.

“Oh what I wouldn’t give for a camera right now,” you sigh. “And one of those Viking helmets. And a cape. And a sword.”

“I can see it,” he admits. “Women like riding dinosaurs. Who’da thought it.”

As you slide off the Triceratops he catches you to break your fall, holding you at your waist and gently placing you back on the ground. You try your best to ignore that your shirt rides up a little and his palms brush your bare skin, the hugeness of his hands around you, the latent strength he displays and the soft amusement in his eyes at your antics.

“Come on,” you say. “Let’s see what else they’ve got.”

You continue to walk around the exhibits, ostensibly looking for fungus or evidence of spores or infected, but there’s nothing. A creeping of excitement makes its way into your stomach, the gleeful feeling you used to get when going to museums and galleries before. Only this is so much better. No crowds to obscure your lines of sight, no noise interrupting when you read the information plaques, being able to get right up close and see the majesty of just how big they really were.

A spiral staircase to the floor above leads into another dark passageway, this one decorated with white dots in a simulation of stars and when you emerge into the room beyond-

“Oh yeah,” Joel says with a satisfied look. “She’s gonna love this.”

Next chapter

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ofstoriesandstardust · 1 year

Text

forget what you’ve been told (lt. bradley “rooster” bradshaw)

a/n: this is all because @struggling-with-delia asked me to write Cowboy!Bob. i rewrote and took out an entire original part of storm warning to fit this in. this is entirely her fault and you should blame her. this isn’t my favorite chapter but this is the bridge between here and the next part and especially the final part.

summary: In revealing his Southern upbringing, Bob gets a chance to see Jake’s sister for who she truly is.

main masterlist | top gun: maverick masterlist | storm warning masterlist | dry lightin’ cracks across the sky (those storm clouds gather in her eyes) | what if you let them all in on the lie?

folks who wanted to be tagged: @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @shanimallina87 @abaker74

warnings: swearing, implied/references child abuse, death of a parent, please someone appreciate my research that went into this

word count: 2,071

You walk down the stairs, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you appear in the living room. You pause, taking in the sight of the different pilots strewn about the space, noticeably missing Bob. Your eyes pass over Bradley’s body, who’s quick to look away from you. Your sight then moves to your brother, who makes to stand up. Rolling your eyes, you turn on your heel and out the front door, despite the fact that you’re barefoot and still in your pajamas.

You make the trek around the house and towards the stables, seeing Lucas unsaddle his horse, Poppy. There’s another figure following behind him with Dahlia that you can’t quite make out. “Sup Cowgirl.” He calls, locking the door to Poppy’s stall. “Why’re you still in your pajamas?”

You groan, moving to tie your hair up. “Jake’s downstairs and it’s just... too early.”

The second figure, who you realize now is Bob, chuckles at your comment. Lucas nods. “They all still in the house?” You nod in confirmation. “Alright, think I’m gonna head inside. You good out here Bob?” The man gives him a thumbs up.

“Thanks for letting me ride.”

Lucas shakes his head. “No trouble at all, was a pleasure to ride with you. I’ll see y’all inside.” Both you and Bob wave a hand as he departs, disappearing as he walks towards the house. Bob begins to move towards Dahlia’s stall as you follow.

“What are you doing out here?”

Bob shrugs. “Wanted to ride. Maybe it’s silly but I find it calming.”

You shake your head. “Not silly at all, I’m the same way.” Bob hands you Dahlia’s bridle to hang up. “Gotta give you credit where credit is due, Dahlia doesn’t let just anyone ride her and I think she’d prefer just Jake.” Bob nods.

“Yeah, I could see that.”

“Say, you’ve never told me where you were from.” You comment as Bob begins the process of taking Dahlia’s saddle off. He hands it to you and you move to put it away. “You’ve seemed to settle into country life fairly well, 'specially if you’re riding Dahlia.”

“Tennessee. Grew up on a pretty similar ranch. I rode and raced as a kid.”

You turn to look at him. “You mean- you mean to tell me you rode this whole time? And you let Jake and I make you wear a helmet?”

He laughs, offering you a wide smile. “Most of this group don’t know where I’m from or that I used to ride. Plus you were so passionate about it.”

You roll your eyes. “Just trying not to get sued.” You say as you move to set Dahlia’s saddle in it’s home. “My college freshman roommate was from Tennessee.” You say, sitting on a haystack as Bob picks up a brush for Dahlia’s mane.

“Oh yeah? Where from?”

“Maryville. You?”

“I’m like right between Lexington and Hurricane Mills. There wasn’t much around us for miles and miles and both towns are tiny as it is, so you probably don’t know where it is or heard of it.”

“Oh, yeah no I’ve been out to Hurricane Mills. I spent spring break in Maryville with her and I dragged her out there, four hour drive and everything, just cause I wanted to see Loretta Lynn’s ranch.”

He chuckles. “That’ll do it. Where’d you go to college?”

“University of Texas at Austin.” You respond, leaning against the wall of the stall.

He gives a double-take, turning around to look at you. “Yeah? Don’t they have like a 40% acceptance rate or something?”

“32.”

His eyes widen. “Holy shit. So you’ve secretly got a brain.”

You laugh. “Yeah, well I pass as a redneck cowgirl, but I’d like to think I’m a little more intelligent than I initially let on.”

“Same can’t be said for Rooster.” He mutters, most likely to himself, which causes you to raise an eyebrow but say nothing further. “Why UT?”

You shrug, cheeks going red. “Well, my Dad didn’t want me going off to college. Wanted me to stay here, work on the ranch. So, I was on my own financially. UT, well, they, were in-state and they uh, they gave me a full ride. Part of the Forty Acres Scholars Program. It was an offer I couldn’t say no to.”

He stares at you for a moment. “Full-ride dude... What’s the Forty Acres program?”

“It’s a merit-based program that offers a lot of academic and leadership opportunities within a small cohort.”

He lets out a low whistle. “Something tells me they don’t just accept everyone.” You shake your head.

“Nope, but I don’t exactly use it for much. Graduated summa cum laude and then came right back here. Haven’t used the alumni network either and I doubt they’re thrilled they spent the money for me to do nothing.”

He sighs, tossing the brush to it’s container just outside the stall door. “Not nothing if you graduated. And hey, for what it’s worth, you’re a lot smarter than you’re giving yourself credit for. Don’t see Hangman doing what you did.”

You shrug. “Maybe. Did you go to school or go straight into the Navy?”

He looks back at you. “You’re just stalling from going back inside, aren’t you?”

Your cheeks warm again. “No, I genuinely want to get to know you.” He raises an eyebrow. “And yeah, okay there’s a little bit of that, but I’d still be out here whether you were out here or not. I was serious when I said I’m not dealing with Jake this early in the morning.”

He chuckles again, leaning up against the opposite wall from you. “Alright, so what’s really going on between you and Hangman?”

You sigh. “He... I don’t know, he left for the Navy right after my freshman year in high school and never came back. Destroyed my family, left me here all alone.” You clear your throat, feeling the emotions crawling up it once again. “Can we not talk about him?”

He nods. “”Course. Nah, I didn’t go to the Naval Academy like him, just straight into the Navy when I was 18.”

“Wait, did he go to the Naval Academy? I thought he just went straight in.” Bob shakes his head slowly. “Damn, guess this is what happens when people just take off.” You mutter.

“He didn’t... tell you?”

“My brother? Inform me of these things? Hell no.”

Some clicks on Bob’s face. “I knew he was your brother.”

You pause, looking at him in confusion. “Did... did you think otherwise?”

Bob shrugs. “Was pretty sure you were his sister but most of the team is convinced he’s your ex, Rooster included.”

You make a face, shaking your head. “That’s gross, no.”

Bob winces. “Sorry, I know you said you didn’t want to talk about him.”

You wave a hand. “’S okay. Bradley thinks this too? This why he’s mad at me?”

Bob nods his head. “Yeah. Overheard whatever argument you were having with Hangman and drew his own conclusions.”

You groan, reaching to rub a hand over his face. “God, he’s so stupid.” You mumble. “Sorry that’s-”

“Nope, you’re not exactly wrong.” Bob says, waving you off. You laugh, feeling some of the tension bleed from your shoulders.

Maybe this thing with him was still fixable.

“How is someone like you friends with my brother? I don’t see it, you and Phoenix are too good of people to be friends with him.”

Bob looks down to his engagement ring, sliding it up and down his finger. “We weren’t always close like this with him. Me and Phe have had our issues with him and if you could go back two years and see him and Rooster-”

“Let me guess, all-knowing Jake Seresin pushed a little too much, his ego too big for everyone else in the room?”

Bob laughs, nodding. “Something like that. When we all got brought together as a team initially, uh... well how much has Rooster told you ‘bout his Dad?”

“Yeah, we’ve talked about him a bit. Was a pilot for the Navy, died when he was young.”

Bob nods. “Yeah, well, when we got brought together Rooster and Hangman got into it one day after training, during the debrief. Hangman brought up his Dad and our instructor, how they used to fly together, kind of insinuated Maverick was responsible for his Dad dying.”

“God, my brother’s a fucking asshole.” You mutter.

Bob shrugs. “Yeah, well, then Hangman saved Rooster and Maverick’s life. Hangman did end up apologizing after we all got home and well, it wasn’t overnight but the two of them started to figure things out. Slowly became friends. Look at where they are now.”

You study Bob carefully. “Why you telling me this Bob?”

“Just... if Rooster can forgive Hangman, well... then maybe so can you.”

“Like you said though, they didn’t happen overnight.”

“Fair, but... why are you really mad at your brother?”

“For leaving.” You say, as if it’s the most simple thing in the world.

He bites his lip. “You sure? Just cause from the sounds of it, y’alls Dad wasn’t all that great.”

“C’mon Bob, you grew up in the South. You know you don’t turn your back on your family. And Jake, he got out. He got a choice of what he wanted to do with his life. But I didn’t get that. I got stuck here, carrying everything. And yeah, our Dad was a horrible piece of shit and I’m glad he’s dead, cruel as that might make me sound. But Jake, he left and never came back. He wasn’t here when Mom got sick, not when I graduated high school or college, and certainly not in any moment since.”

“So you’ve resented him all these years for getting everything you’ve ever wanted and never been able to have?”

You groan, standing up from the hay stack you’re sitting on and moving out of the stall. “It’s more than that Bob. He- My mom, the thing that held this family together, the best person I’ve ever known, was sick. She died. And he still couldn’t find it in his heart to come home. I remember the morning he left. Watched him do it. Mom cried for days when he did.” You find yourself beginning to pace, remembering that day.

Your brother’s room had always been next to yours, and even after years, the creaky spot outside your door still woke you up when he moved. There’d been no light in the room, early morning, and you pushed your covers off, sleepily opening the door open as you watched your brother walk down the stairs with nothing more than a duffel bag. Frowning, you quietly followed him, watching him slip out the front door. Slipping out the front door after him, careful to not let the squeaky porch door close, you watch him walk down the dirt driveway, getting in his truck, and driving away.

He never came back.

Your Mom had cried for three days after finding Jake’s room all tidied up like she always asked him to do, nothing more than a brief hand-written note explaining that he needed to leave, left on his pillowcase. Your Dad had taken down every picture in the house of him in it (save for the one under your bed), scorning your brother for turning his back on the Seresin name. You still don’t know what happened to those photos. Where they were now.

“As far as I’m concerned, my brother is nothing more than a self-serving, arrogant ass who-” You turn, finding yourself face to face with Bradley and Phoenix. You sigh, shoulders dropping.

“Hi Cowgirl.” He says softly, offering you a goofy smile as he puts his hands into his pockets.

“You have an eavesdropping problem.” You say, crossing your arms.

Bob closes Dahlia’s stall door, locking it. He walks over, taking Phoenix’s hand. “We’re gonna go back inside. We’ll see the two of you in there, yeah?”

“Remember what I said Bradshaw! Don’t want to see you again till you’ve groveled!” Phoenix shouts over her shoulder as her and Bob turn towards the house. He sighs, looking up at the ceiling of the stables.

“Can’t believe I’m a grown adult being lectured by my friends.”

“Kind of think you deserve it.”

He sighs again. “We should talk.”

You nod, uncrossing your arms. “Yeah, let’s talk.”

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fics #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw fics #bradley rooster bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fics #storm warning

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oneatlatime · 10 months

Text

The Fortuneteller

(A title which I am itching to divide into three words instead of two because boy does 'Fortuneteller' look stupid - seriously, stare at it for a bit and see how fast it starts looking like Fortun Eteller)

The last couple of episodes have had a contemplative character, so I'm rooting for this one to be a silly one. Also more Sokka please. Poor guy gets demoted to one liners in the B-plot whenever Aang is the main focus.

Episode Time!

We start this episode off with a potential love interest for Sokka.

I had completely forgotten that Katara used to have a necklace. I'd also completely forgotten that she'd lost it. When did she lose it?

Aang-o-vision has a pretty heavy rose-tinted filter - literally.

Told you it was a love interest.

The NOISE Sokka makes when the fish slaps him! I love it. Hang on I'm going to rewind and listen to it again.

Yep. Still as good the second time.

Oh wow! Aang just got Momo-zoned. Gotta say I'm not a fan of a romantic relationship between Aang and Katara at this point, so I'm all for some Momo-zonage.

Platypus bear! Finally some hybrid animals. I was beginning to wonder if that would ever come back.

Is this guy a martial arts master or an idiot?

I'm leaning towards idiot.

Friendly reminder of Appa's size. That's a lot of molars. No canines or incisors? Guess he's an obligate herbivore.

Is sniffing eggs something that people do? I get sniffing melons or other produce, but eggs?

Yep. Floppy hat guy is an idiot.

Aang buddy you might want to get that checked out.

And with a mighty squelch, the egg fulfills this episode's Beat Up Sokka quota.

Appa shakes!

Those are weird ducks.

I don't know a thing about anime, but that's the most anime-looking guy I've seen in this show. Is this show an anime?

Meng-o-vision is red-tinted. Probably doesn't bode well.

Also, Meng could give Zuko some lessons on how to style Pipi longstocking hair. Someone with more photoshop skills than me needs to make a Zuko with Meng hair.

"Don't be modest, they're huge!" Presented without comment. I'm not going to say a thing. But we all thought it.

Katara is totally the kind of girl who would fall for fortune telling. We've seen (multiple times) that she is gullible. Actually, now that I think about it, we've had multiple episodes where Katara gets swept up in something a healthy dose of skepticism would have guarded her from - Jet and The Great Divide come to mind. The writers are really hammering the 'Katara is susceptible to romantic nonsense and Sokka is a science-minded skeptic' message home. Is this going to play some bigger part in the show going forward? Why else would we be on version number (arguably) 3 of this same plot?

Aang and Sokka took off their shoes, but Katara didn't. Huh.

Pinky out. Classy.

I am not digging the Aang x Katara stuff in this episode. I'm with Sokka on this one - let's pretend it was a stellar bathroom break.

Aunt Wu is being unnecessarily antagonistic to Sokka. First he gets an egg on his head, then Momo steals his bean puffs, now Aunt Wu tells him his life's going to suck. I should have been more specific when I hoped for a Sokka episode. I didn't mean a beat up Sokka episode.

Aang. Priorities honey. Honestly, Aang casually dismissing his destiny after all that build up did get a laugh out of me.

A god-like figure coming to have his fortune read and only wanting to know about his love life would give me a headache too.

Add malicious signage to the Beating Up Sokka list.

"The fluffy bunny cloud forecasts doom and destruction." I bet that's the first time that sentence has appeared in the English language.

These people are stupid. Blazing Saddles style 'common clay of the New West' stupid. It would take, what, a day? to run a visual check on the volcano. But nope. Too much work. Listen to me I'm morphing into Sokka.

Katara giving off some serious fangirl vibes.

Katara is officially addicted to fortune telling.

Live footage of me watching these village idiots.

Add duck to the list of Things Which Assault Sokka. Gotta love those duck noises though.

Sokka is getting dangerously close to advising negging here. Also Meng deserves better. Her poor pigtails droop in disappointment. Girl has sentient hair - she deserves better.

Papaya? When you don't like papaya? Just because some old lady said so? Too far. That's not even teenage nonsense; that's tweenage nonsense. I kind of feel like sending Katara to her room. Actually it's just like that one line Log Man said in the Jet episode. Something like 'He tells us what to do and how to think and things all turn out right.' Outsourcing your decision-making. Which, by the way, is both nonsense and cult-like. Then again, the lost boys freedom fighters pretty much worshipped Jet the way this village worships Aunt Wu, so... parallels?

So if this guy got the panda lily himself, doesn't that mean that he recently went up the mountain? Couldn't he have had a peak inside while he was up there? Would have taken an extra 20 seconds.

"Flowers are fine once you're married" Somebody get this boy to Victorian times. If he ever sees an ankle he'll self-combust.

You have a flying bison. Why don't you fly up instead of climb?

This is totally live action fire copy-pasted in to the animation. There has got to be a more technical term for that than copy-pasted.

Raise your hand if you saw the twist with the volcano coming. (I did I swear. Blue spirit was an outlier).

Forget Appa, why didn't Aang just fly up?

"They just won't listen to reason." "But they will listen to Aunt Wu." So the mountain comes to Mohammed. I guess talking to people in a way they understand / will listen to is a good lesson for an avatar to learn. I thought he'd learned that one in The Great Divide though. Either way this episode is getting increasingly frustrating.

Can Meng get a hug? She seems astonishingly self-aware and emotionally mature for a kid. Also way too smart for this podunk town. I may rescind the hug in light of the stalking.

Well, it's not exactly subtle, but at least volcanic doom isn't a fluffy bunny.

Look at those yummy purples. Finally an episode where it's light enough to have a beautiful sky. My collection of wallpapers was suffering.

Digging a lava trench might work, if the volcano is going to put out a gallon or two of lava. This must be a baby volcano.

Nevermind.

The ashes effect feels oddly 3-D.

I guess to an avatar this kind of challenge is small potatoes.

Totally ignoring the Aang x Katara stuff for a minute, I'm with Sokka on this one too, because I also had forgotten that Aang is a superbender. He didn't even need to go glowy.

If I lived in this village that redesign would absolutely give me nightmares. Are those mega claws of doom structurally sound?

I am going to punch this man.

Aunt Wu's final speech to Aang makes me think that at least she's not indulging in her own product as it were. I suppose a con artist (whose services are free, so, just jerking around a village for shits and giggles?) is better than an actual believer?

MENG!!!

Final Thoughts

This episode has me thinking about stories. Part of the reason Katara wants to believe in nonsense like fortune telling is because she is someone inclined to listen to / believe in stories. I think the opening monologue of the first episode mentioned something about her grandmother's stories. Katara was raised on stories and very much took them to heart as more than just entertainment. And you can't blame her for believing the conceits of stories could be possible in their world, not after the events of episode one dumped the star of those stories in her lap. Just so long as she doesn't confuse a belief in stories with a belief in happy endings. There is a war going on in their world, and judging by the stuff that the show did not shy away from discussing or implying in episodes like The Southern Air Temple and The Storm, I am willing to bet good money that there will be a couple of unhappy endings ahead. Not permanently unhappy; this is a kids' cartoon. But there will probably be setbacks and disappointments.

Would Katara have astrology nonsense in her dating profile?

"The fluffy bunny cloud forecasts doom and destruction" is going to be incorporated into my daily vocabulary.

Platypus + bear are interesting choices for a hybrid animal, since a platypus is about 15 normal animals smashed together anyway. A platypus bear is the swiss army knife of animals. Or the Mr. Potato Head.

At first I thought that Aunt Wu was a benevolent meddler (see putting together the couple with the panda lily), but she also advised that one guy to never bathe, which doesn't benefit anyone in any way that I can see. So I've concluded that she's a Bumi level ("it's pretty fun messing with people") shit-stirrer instead. Her services may be free, but she manages to pay for a very big house, an assistant in Meng, and anime guy the bodyguard(?) so I guess grateful villagers give her donations? However she's doing it, she's got it made.

There was some sort of running theme with those large blue-billed ducks that lived in the village. If that was meant to have more meaning than just a running visual gag, I didn't pick up on it.

Meng had a surprising amount of depth and insight for what (I assume) is a one-episode character. Stalking aside, I liked her.

This episode's humourous look at the stupidity of the village (in fact the science denial of the village) is not as funny as it would have been in a pre-covid denial, pre-antivax, pre-"global warming is a hoax" world. A shallow viewing of this episode is still funny because the villagers are just SO dumb (except Meng), but the more you think about the villagers' actions and the conclusions they reach at the end of the episode (to not change AT ALL - at least the tribes made up in The Great Divide, a similarly idiot-filled episode), the more you morph into Sokka. These people have denied reality so hard that it's frustrating rather than funny to watch. Their head in the sand approach is not cute anymore.

I really wanted to like this episode. Like I said before, I wanted a goofy fun episode after the one-two punch of the last two episodes, but this one rapidly went from goofy to frustrating. I can't tell if it's because I'm not the target audience (i.e. too adult) or if it's because much of the world is currently drowning in various forms of misinformation and science denial. I know this episode isn't supposed to be deep - it's supposed to be setup for Aang & Katara as a (hopefully very distant) couple. That's all. And the message at the end about shaping your own destiny (i.e. taking an active part in your life) is a good message, and thematically relevant to the avatar, who presumably is at least somewhat responsible for shaping the whole world's destiny. But damn if this episode doesn't make my teeth itch.

Pros: Sokka had some great lines. Appa got to shake. There were pretty backgrounds. The noise Sokka made when he got slapped by the fish was a thing of beauty.

Cons: Aang and Katara are not allowed to date until they're 35. I will smack each villager individually upside the head with a science textbook. Meng deserved better.

Maybe I'm just not in the mood for this episode. I'll stick it on the rewatch list just for the Sokka fish noise.

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #the fortune teller #it should be THREE words fight me #avatar the last airbender

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keep-the-wolves-close · 2 months

Text

Steady Heart

Chapter 14: Hollow Crown

* Pairing: Slow-burn Kayce Dutton x OFC Stella Daniels

* Rating: M? (Still figuring out the rating system) (might eventually be M anyhow)

* Warnings: language, brief violence between John and Jamie, brief wound tending

* Word count: 4,038ish

I would love to give credits to @dameronscopilot and @deanscroissant for being sounding boards for me during this whole process, giving outsider insight, being cheerleaders, and allowing me to screech at them about things that have happened during the writing process. I seriously couldn't have gotten this far without y'all

Author's note: Oof this chapter was a piece of work. I hope everyone is enjoying so far! I hope you love this chapter as well!

The pair trotted for another 10 minutes and on the horizon there was a rifle bang that cut through the air. Stella sagged in her saddle at the sight of her brother, Jimmy, and Walker riding out to meet her. She waved her hand at the bunch.

They met each other. In unison Ryan slipped off of BJ and Stella off of Abigail. Her brother called out to her and cleared the last few feet of space between them. “Stella! Are you okay?!” He jogged up to her wrapping her in a hug so tight, air rushed out of her lungs at the impact, a soft oof escaping.

She hugged Ryan back. “I’m fine. The officer got hurt, not me.”

Ryan started to check her over. Looking for any sign of injury. “What happened to your hands?”

“I got cut on barbed wire trying to untangle Snoopy. Is he okay?”

“Yeah he’s fine.” Jimmy said.

“Nothing some docterin’ and silver spray won’t fix.” Walker offered.

“Oh good.” Stella caught her breath. “The noises stopped not long ago. I don’t think she’s following anymore.”

Ryan stood back from inspecting his sister. “Where was the den?”

“Somewhere by pasture 11, I think? On the outside of the fence.”

“We’ll probably have to get them relocated.”

“If she doesn’t do it first with all the hoof traffic coming through there over the last few days.”

Ryan nodded at his sister's assumption. “Yeah that’s a fair point. Or maybe she was in the process of moving them already.”

“Yeah,” she looked down. “Thank you for coming to me.” She glanced at Jimmy and Walker. “All of you.” Walker tipped his hat and turned around to go back to the barn.

“What were you doin’ by yourself? Why didn’t you go with them?”

“There wasn’t enough room. And someone had to come back and tell John. It’s okay, I’ll be fine.” She brushed loose hair away from her face.

Jimmy smiled and came up to her and wrapped his arms around her. A startled noise left Stella. “I’m glad you’re okay. When we heard the call come through and then your horse didn’t show up we thought you were dead.”

Stella thought, ‘ah what the hell,’ and returned the hug. “Thank you, Jimmy. Really.” Ryan cleared his throat next to them. Stella pulled back and scowled at her brother for a split second. “I’ve gotta go talk to John. I was supposed to be back like an hour ago at least. I’ll meet y’all down at the bunkhouse in a bit.”

Ryan hugged her as Jimmy rode away. “Don’t get into any more trouble on the way to the house please?” He tapped her nose. “Matter of fact, I’ll come with you until you’re at the house.”

Stella wanted to argue, but thought better of it. Ryan was still coming back to earth. She would humor him today.

Stella and Ryan came loping into view of the ranch from the far side archway closest to the house. She came to a stop and Ryan waved at her as he headed to the barn. She turned her horse to slope up the big hill to the house. Abigail’s long legs made short work of the hill. Coming up on the big house, Stella could just barely make out someone on the porch in the dim twilight. Getting closer she could see it was John.

She slowed her mare to a stop at the trough by the driveway. She swung her leg over and dropped gracefully out of her saddle. She stroked Abigail’s neck and tied her to one of the few hitches at the house. “Catch your breath girl. We’re safe now. Get some water.” The mare was already halfway there by the time she finished her sentence. Stella could feel eyes on her and knew John was patiently waiting for her to come report to her.

Making her way to the bottom, she smiled sheepishly up at the man lounging at the top. “Just the man I hoped to find,” she joked breathlessly. John waved at her to come join him. She climbed the stairs. “Have you heard anything from Rip?” She went to take a seat next to her best friend’s father.

John shook his head. “No, should I have?” He was testing her. That was the thought that first came to Stella’s mind. He was seeing if she would lie at all. The tone he used gave him away. He knew already.

She bobbed her head. “Well he was supposed to call you, but he might have gotten held up. Taking that officer up the mountain turned into a shit show to say the least, sir. She was uncomfortable on Snoopy from the get go, which I thought was weird considering she most likely has to ride a horse quite often, but what do I know.”

Stella settled back into the chair with a quiet groan. “She fell off the horse after it got bit by a horsefly and got, forgive my lack of tact here, skewered on a fence post. Rip called Viggo and got her out to the hospital. I was to come back here and tell you. So here I am.” She raised her hand from the arm rest. “A little later than I planned, and more cuts than intended, but I’m here.”

“You forget who my daughter is. I would be shocked if you’ve been around this long and didn’t have something like that in your arsenal.” They smirked at each other. “Rip will be home soon. I think I hear the chopper now. He did call me a little while ago.”

“Oh good,” Stella listened intently and sure enough she heard the blades as they sliced through the air. In the distance a very distinct Rip shaped silhouette walked out of the darkness.

“She gonna make it?” John asked, getting up from his seat on the porch.

“Yeah. She's tough as a mule, that one.” He gazed at Stella when he said that. Stella stood and caught up to the patriarch, meeting the foreman at the bottom of the steps. He switched his stare to John. “They're sending another ranger out tomorrow.” Rip put his hands on his hips as they came to meet him.

“See if you can keep this one on a horse.” Rip chuckled. John pointed to her. “And Stella, I don’t think you should go this time. We’ll decide tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.” Both she and Rip answered in unison.

Rip took in Stella’s appearance. “You okay, Stella-belle?” John watched the interaction quietly.

Stella sighed and took her glasses off. She outstretched her hand and Rip grabbed them with a frown. The men shared a glance. They let Stella take her time. Taking out her hair, she ran her hands through it shaking it out. It went back up into a less fuzzy bun. She held out her hand for her glasses and Rip placed them gently on her palm. Placing them back on her face, she finally answered.

“Well I doctored my hands up after you left. Ran into a mountain lion den about halfway home. On the outside of the fence. I’m pretty sure mom stalked us most of the way home.” Rip opened his mouth, but she held up a hand to stop him. “Yes I called my brother in on the walkie. They came out and met me. He made sure I made it most of the way here. I told John about what happened. Just later than planned.”

“Sounds like you had a busy night.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

John interjected. “We’ll revisit the mountain lion near one of my pastures later. You forgot that little detail, kid.”

“Sorry sir. Ryan was already talking about relocation or something. If she wasn’t already in the process when I stumbled across her.”

A car pulled up and caught their attention. “Wow, I can't wait to see which disappointment this is.” The three of them watched Jamie get out of the car. John roared, “where you been? I needed you!” Stella and Rip stepped back.

“I was campaigning.” He stated like it was obvious.

John growled. “You been gone two fuckin' days, Jamie. You can't make one phone call? God knows I've been calling you.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Sorry? Hell, you don't even know what you're sorry for.”

“I'm sorry. Christina has my phone.” Stella raised her eyebrows at his admission.

“Christina has your phone. God damn it, Jamie.” John wiped his mouth. “When Rip takes Fish and Wildlife out tomorrow, I need you with them.”

“Okay. Why is Fish and Wildlife coming tomorrow?”

“Shit.” John muttered. The evidence was clear that Jamie hadn’t even bothered to check his phone before he got to the ranch.

“I have campaign stops in Helena and Great Falls…”

“No, you don't, because the first thing you're doing tomorrow is withdrawing from the race.” John made his word final.

“What? I'm doing this for you.” Jamie sounded hurt and confused.

“No, you're doing it for you, and now you're not doing it anymore.”

Rip and Stella looked at each other. They didn’t think they should be here for this conversation. Stella wanted to slowly slink away to her horse and go find her brother.

Jamie tried to stand his ground. “Hey. I won't quit. My entire career is based around this. I've earned it.”

“It's not your place to decide what you've earned.”

“Don't take this away from me. I've earned this! After everything I've done for you, after everything I said…,” Jamie begged.

John wheeled around and advanced on Jamie.“What have you done for me, Jamie?” John shoved him. “What have you done for me besides help me build the empire that you stand to inherit? Sorry, son, I just don't see the sacrifice.”

“Don't you take this away from me.” Jamie grabbed his dad’s coat and started shoving him.

“You took it from yourself.” John dismissed.

“After everything I have done for you? I have earned this!”

John launched his fist squarely against Jamie’s jaw. He fell to the ground and groaned. Embarrassment and pain all wrapped up into one. “All you earned today is that.”

As much as it pleased Stella that someone else shared the same thought about Jamie needing to be hit, she didn’t think now was the time. “Mr. Dutton!” John took his son to the ground, trading blows the whole way.

Rip jumped in. “Hey.” He pulled John off of Jamie.

“I swear to God, I never met a man more in need of a beating.” John paced as Rip got Jamie up off the ground and started marching him away from John. Stella put herself in between John and the other two men. She hoped that her presence in the middle would keep him from bowling her over if his anger rose again.

“Jamie, you touch me again, and I'll give you one.” He stood up straight and stared down his son. “By this time tomorrow, Attorney General Stewart's gonna announce that he's not stepping down. So if you want to run against the candidate I'm supporting, you be my guest.” He caught his breath just long enough to weave around Stella and up to Jamie and Rip. “Until you're ready to put this family first, you don't step foot on this ranch, you understand? You're not welcome here.”

Rip caught Jamie as he went to go back at his father for more blows. “Hey, hey, hey. Listen to me... Whoa. Easy now.”

“This is between family.” Jamie said hotly. Stella made a face at him not recognizing the foreman as family at this point.

“You're gonna fight yourself right out of it.” He patted Jamie’s chest. “Now, go get a hotel, okay? And then calm down.”

Stella herded John to the porch. He bent down and picked up the papers that had blown off the table with the breeze that had settled in. “You okay?” She heard Jamie’s car peel off and felt Rip come up behind her.

“No, Stella, I don't know that I am.” He sniffed. “Hundred and thirty-two years this ranch has been in my family, and I'm the one to lose it.” He stood from picking up the papers. “To be honest, I don't even know who I'm trying to save it for, anymore.” He looked at his employees. “You both go. I have a lot to think about.”

She gave him a bittersweet smile in response and watched him go inside. Rip went to go stand at the top step and Stella asked softly as she joined him, “penny for your thoughts?”

Rip shook his head. “Not much going on except, what a fuckin’ day.”

She hummed in response.

“You go to your brother. Have Lloyd look at your hands.”

“Yessir.” She jogged over to Abigail. The bay roan nickered at her. She smiled lovingly at Abigail, gave her a pat and climbed into her saddle. “Come on sweets. Let’s go put you to bed.”

After she got Abigail settled in, she chose to go find her brother and see what shenanigans everyone was up to. Coming up on the bunkhouse the sounds of a good time echoed into the night. She smiled feeling at home and swung the door open.

The men were in the middle of a poker game. Her brother goaded everyone. “Oh this is dangerous for you boys. I would stay away if I were you.”

The smile remained on her face and she walked up behind her brother and gave his shoulders a hug. “Oh hey Stellee. Kinda busy right now.” He squeezed her forearm that was around his neck quickly.

“Yeah yeah. Just wanted to say hi.” She chuckled standing back up. She noticed Jimmy was searching for something all over the back of the house.

Lloyd caught Jimmy pacing and gently directed him. “Jimmy, sit down. You're making us all fucking sea sick.”

“All right, where is it?”

“Where's what?” Stella and Ryan asked. They looked at each other in amusement.

“You guys know what.”

Stella scrunched her face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just got here.”

“We don't know how to help you find what we don't know you're looking for, Jimmy.” Colby said.

“Where's my fucking hat?”

Ryan looked directly at Jimmy. “Oh, that.” Ryan tapped on his cards. “Yeah, we got rid of that.” He explained simply.

Stella’s eyes widened. “Y’all did what!”

“Stupid scarecrow ain't a good look, Jimmy.” Colby smiled.

Stella swore she could hear a mouse fart out in the barn from how quiet it got in the house. All the men started smiling before Lloyd reached underneath the table and pulled out a brand new black hat. He tossed it at Jimmy who juggled it and caught it.

Ryan laid out the rules. He sounded like he was talking to 15 year old Stella the way he explained it. “Cost us each a weeks' pay. You lose it, pay us back.”

Lloyd smiled, delighted. “It ain't a damn soup bucket, try it on.” He tried to convince Jimmy.

Jimmy looked at it, almost as if he was making sure there wasn’t a catch. He flipped it up over his head and carefully slipped it on.

“Yay!” Stella yelled and everyone started clapping and congratulating him.

“You were in on this, too?” He asked Stella and then Walker, who had just walked in on the celebration.

Stella laid her arms on her brother and Colby’s shoulders. “Oh, look at him, honeys. Our little Jimmy's all growed up.” She playfully sniffled and wiped a fake tear away. Colby and Ryan played along and consoled her. “Also somebody call the academy. I deserve an award for the performance.”

“Thanks.” Jimmy smiled at the guys trying to forget his annoyance. The wranglers went back to their poker game, pleased with the turnout of getting Jimmy a hat.

Jimmy stepped up to Stella. “Thank you.”

“Of course Jaybird.” He smiled at the nickname. “We’ll get you fitted up right if it kills us.” She leaned closer to him and whispered, “I told you they’d come around.” She smiled and squeezed his shoulder.

Jimmy walked over to his bunk and everyone including Stella screamed. “No, no, don't put it on the bed!”

“Jesus fuck.” Ryan exclaimed.

“That's bad luck, Jimmy.” Lloyd explained.

“You can't give him anything.”

“Is there any way to undo that, or…,” Jimmy sounded worried he asked Walker.

Walker sighed and laid down. He seemed bummed. “Hell, Jimmy, if you cowboy into this outfit, you're already cursed.”

Stella glanced at him. “You good?”

“I guess.” He replied curtly.

Stella frowned but figured it would be best to walk away. “Hey Lloyd? Can you look at my hands? Rip wasn’t sure my docterin’ was good enough.”

“Of course lil’ bit. Here and take my seat. I’ll get the first aid kit.” He traded spots with her. He left to go to the bathroom and grab the kit.

Ryan watched as Colby leaned over and started gently taking off the medical tape Stella had put around her hands and fingers. She hissed as the tape caught some skin from her right middle and ring finger. They were the gnarliest.

“Damn girl, what did you do?”

“I was panicking trying to get Snoopy loose from barbed wire.” She laughed through the pain that emanated from her hand. “Didn’t know Rip had cutters.”

Colby whistled. “You sure know how to have a good time don’t you?”

“If that’s what you wanna call it, sure.” She chuckled stiffly. Lloyd came out of the bathroom hallway and came back to the table.

“My god, Stella.” Her eyes widened because it was rare that Lloyd used her actual name.

“I know it looks bad, but once I get it washed off it’ll be better.” She stood and made her way to the bathroom sink.

“Why’re you going there?”

“I’m not gonna have my blood in the sink we all use for food and dishes. That’s gross.” There were certain lines she wouldn’t cross. That was one of them.

Looking in the mirror, she could tell the day had been rough. The past few days had been rough. Hell, the whole last week had been. She turned on the water and examined her face while she waited for it to get warm. The dark circles on her face carved a wide path underneath her eyes. It looked like she’d been punched.

Stella flicked a finger in the water to test the temperature. It was warm enough so she grabbed the soap and gently scrubbed her hands. It started stinging and she grit her teeth. She washed the last of the soap and blood off and looked around for a towel. She found a wash rag and figured it would do.

She walked back out to the leader of the pack and held out her hands. “Okay so it’s still not great, but I don’t need stitches. So that’s a plus.”

“Sit.” Lloyd pointed to the chair. “Colby get up.” Everyone but her brother quickly skirted to their respective spaces.

“Ryan, you get her other hand.”

Stella laid her left arm out for her brother. The cut across her left palm wasn’t as bad as the ones on her fingers on the other hand. Both men got to work. Neither of them talked to her in their concentration. Looking around the room she looked at Jimmy. As they locked eyes she winced at a particularly tender part of her fingers.

Jimmy meandered over and took a seat across from her. “Need a distraction?”

“Probably. You got anything good to talk about?”

“So,” Jimmy tapped the table trying to come up with something. “Snoopy is doing good. He was still a little spooky when I checked on him.”

“He’ll settle out over the next day or so.” She smirked. “Also look at you using me and Kayce’s lingo!”

“You might have rubbed off on me.”

She looked at her brother. “I told you I could get through to him.”

Ryan looked up at her under his eyebrows with a scowl.

“What?” She made a face at her brother.

He looked at her hands and back at her. Stella instantly knew he was pissed she tore her them up. More so that she got hurt in general. Her shoulders dropped when she realized. She felt Lloyd wrapping the last one of her fingers and Ryan let go of her hand as he finished. Jimmy watched the whole silent conversation in awe.

“None of it was intentional, Ry.”

“I told you to be careful, and you said never before you left.”

Stella grabbed his hand. “I was joking when I said that. Out of everyone here, well except maybe Jimmy, I’m probably the most cautious. I panicked because Rip was considering shooting Snoopy so when he caught his breath he didn’t drag the officer all to hell.” She let go of his hand and put hers on her chest. “A horse I helped train with Lee and Kayce. I couldn’t let him do it. I didn’t know he had cutters, otherwise I would have used them first instead of trying to untangle him with my bare hands.”

The vibe in the room shifted. The mention of Lee sobered everyone up really quick.

“Snoopy is one of the things I have to keep him alive. He’s proof that I learned something and made a friend while I was at it.”

Ryan sat back in his chair with a sigh. “We’ve gotta work on your self preservation, but I understand why you did it.”

“We’ll get somewhere one day. I gotta go find Rip. See what he wants me to do.” Stella stood and walked over to Jimmy. She squeezed his shoulder. “Thank you for taking care of Snoopy for me.”

She came up to the lodge pleased to see that the lights were still on. Her hand raised and she thumped the door a couple times and stood back. A couple coyotes could be heard way off in the distance. They were far enough away that Stella didn’t worry. And if they suddenly came up on her she would just barge into Rip’s house and apologize later. She was sure that he didn’t lock the door. Knocking was just out of respect and common courtesy.

The door opened, Rip looking irritated as ever. “Woah there grumpy Gus. It’s just me.” Stella snorted. When he realized who was at his door, his face softened.

“Everything alright?” He asked, looking like he was preparing for more headache.

“Oh yeah, everything’s fine. I just wanted to see what you wanted me to do.”

Rip’s eyebrows dropped. “Meaning?”

Her face scrunched up in question. “Meaning should I stay at the ranch tonight to go in the morning, or?”

“Oh yeah you probably should stay. I know John said you weren’t going, but I’m sure he’ll want you there.” He stood back and waved her into the house. “You left your stuff here during your great escape this morning. I put it on the table.”

Stella stepped into the lodge and spotted her orange book bag and key lanyard sitting where Rip said it would be. She gripped it up and swung the strap over her shoulder.

“You can stay here again if you want?” Rip offered.

Stella laughed, turning around to head back out the door. “I’ll let you have some peace before tomorrow morning. Plus I have a couple extra things at the bunkhouse.” Remembering she had been banned she stopped and spun back to him. His eyebrows were raised. She scratched her head and looked down. “I mean if that’s okay.”

Rip was quiet. The silence made Stella rock back and forth on her feet. Monica called it the “mom rock”. He sighed and shook his head. “Okay I’ll let it slide tonight. Once this situation is taken care of, no bunkhouse still, but you can hang around.”

“Eeee,” Stella squealed and ran over to him. She jumped just high enough to be able to grab his shoulders and hug him tight. He hugged her back holding most of her weight, allowing her feet to swing back and forth. She dropped down and backed up. “Thank you. I’ll try to be on my best behavior.”

“You better be,” he swatted at her shoulder as she turned around to leave. He called out to her as she left. “I’ll come get you in the mornin’!”

A faint, “okay,” floated back through the door. He smirked to himself and shook his head at the soft spot he had for her.

#yellowstone #kayce dutton #yellowstonetv #luke grimes #ian bohen #ryan #kayce dutton fan fiction #yellowstone fanfic #yellowstone fanfiction #rip wheeler #kayce dutton fanfic

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mysteryshoptls · 2 years

Text

SSR Leona Kingscholar TsumsitterPersonal Story: Part 2

"A Moment with Leonatsum II"

(Part 1) Part 2 (Part 3)

[Botanical Garden – Temperate Zone]

Jack: Ah, Leona-senpai! Great timing!

Leona: Oh, Jack. What's up… Hm?

Leona: That thing on your shoulder…

Jack: Yes, sir… It's a tsum.

Leona: A tsum? What's that?

Jack: Actually, I just met this little guy a bit ago, and… When we brought it up to the Headmaster, it was decided to call them "tsums."

Jack: And then, I was told to watch over this "tsum."

Leona: Ugh, you sure got saddled with something troublesome.

Leona: Listen, when something like this happens, you need to nag and argue and be persistent in your refusals until they finally give up trying to make you do it. Got it?

Jack: Yessir!

Jack: By the way, Leona-senpai, have you seen any other tsums on your way here?

Leona: Nope. Haven't seen any.

Jack: Is that so… I thought that if I found any more tsums, they should be reported to the Headmaster...

[tsum hops onto Leona's shoulder]

Jack/Leona: ACK!?

Jack: That thing on your shoulder… Is that a Leona-senpai tsum!?

Leona: This thing… It must have followed me! Go away!

[attempts to shoo the tsum]

Jack: Wow, even though Leona-senpai tries to brush it off, it's staying put with no problem... It's really strong.

Jack: It's very regal-looking, and strangely intimidating. It might be small, but it really is just like Leona-senpai.

Leona: It's not!!

Jack: Looks like the tsum's really happy. It doesn't seem to want to leave your side, Leona-senpai. It's pretty cute and affectionate.

Leona: Don't be laughing at me like you don't gotta deal with it either… Your tsum's acting strange too.

Jack: Eh?

Leona: It's been doing squats on your shoulder since you showed up. Workin' hard, ain't it?

Jack: Eh!?

Leona: See, look. It's all excited, even its tail is… That's a tail, right?

Jack: It's super short, but I'm pretty sure it is…

Leona: It's wagging its tail. Must be happy to be taken care of by you.

Jack: I-If you're going to say that, then your tsum also… Wait, what?

Jack: Isn't your tsum kinda going limp? It's flattening out on your shoulder.

Jack: Hey, tsum! You okay!? Maybe it's not feeling well…

Zzzzzz.

Jack: …No, it's asleep.

Leona: Great. I'll take this chance to ditch it here.

Jack: Is that alright?

Leona: It's a wild creature, to start with. I'm sure it'll be fine in the garden. See ya.

Jack: Wow… Even though it's a creature that looks just like him, he's got no mercy…

[Botanical Garden – Temperate Zone]

Leona: Sigh… I'm definitely sleep-deprived 'cause of all that commotion yesterday.

Leona: Why should I care about any tsum or whatever? It'll be fine.

[tsum hops onto Leona]

Leona: You're here again! …Hey, stop bouncing on my stomach!

Leona: Why're you even following me? It's really annoying. Have the others play with you.

Leona: …Or maybe, did you figure out that if you stick with me, you'll find yourself in the best napping spots?

Leona: Nice. I guess you're smarter than you look.

Leona: It's such a pain to keep running you off, anyway. Fine, stay there, but you better not disturb my naps.

Leona: Zzz… Zzz…

(Part 1) Part 2 (Part 3)

#twisted wonderland #twst #leona kingscholar #jack howl #twst leona #twst jack #twst translation #twst tsum tsum #mention: crowley

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cure-icy-writes · 1 year

Note

Hi I am going around to everyone who reblogged that post with tags: please use this ask as an excuse to ramble about your ocs I want to hear about them

OwO? Well, if you insist~

Here's my first picrew approximation of Lux! Not a final design, but I wanted to figure out their facial features a bit-- they've got sort of catlike, narrow eyes, messy white hair, long/thin nose, sharp chin, and thin expressive eyebrows.

As for their clothing, their default design changed a bit-- frayed/saggy sweater that used to be recognizable as cable knit, and faded jeans with an inoffensive patch or two and large pockets. Mom jeans, y'know?

Lux's character is based on two things:

Aging is not a curse. Getting older doesn't mean you're missing out; it means you have new perspectives. Lux has the ability to see what the children in the story cannot, and life skills that they're lacking. So what if Lux isn't physically at their prime anymore? They can make phone calls and answer emails and spot scams.

You can still leave a legacy without having biological children. This one's important; Lux is some flavor of neurodivergent, and saw firsthand what happens when someone who never wanted a child is saddled with one.

Lux lost their parents at a young age, too young to really remember them, and for the most part will shrug and tell you that you can't miss what you never had. But they do feel a confused sort of grief and longing for what could have been, and visit their parents' graves once a year.

They ended up being taken in my their only living relative, their aunt. And this woman... she didn't want children, she was unqualified to raise children in a lot of ways, and she didn't do the best job. She wasn't really abusive, but she definitely was emotionally neglectful, and Lux was something of a wild child as a kid, wandering around and getting into fights.

But the adults in the community started to take notice of this, and began to provide for Lux in small ways. It started out with just little check ins, free clothing and food, but eventually Lux was having a home cooked dinner at someone else's house nearly every night. It takes a village to raise a child, and that village had started to step up.

When Lux left home, however, they lost this support system and started to revert back into their old ways, traveling and living on ramen, keeping a frankly abysmal sleep schedule, not even owning a comb.

They were eventually properly socialized, so flash forward to the present day, Lux has no kids, three money, and takes care of the neighbor kids sometimes. Because the other adults in town consist of:

sort of pathetic meowmeow scientist

former unshaven addict who had a daughter due to critical contraceptive failure and realized "oh shit oh fuck i have a child i need to get my life together STAT." he's doing his best to manage his addictions and keep his daughter safe, but there's a lot he falls behind on, and he doesn't feel like he can leave town for fear of relapsing

late bloomer lesbian who only realized she liked women after getting a husband and a son. the divorce didn't go great for her, but she kept custody

So Lux is an adult with back pain and a favorite kitchen appliance (it's the dishwasher. no question) and knows full well that they shouldn't have kids for fear of ending up like their aunt, but they also really enjoy being the cool aunty/uncle figure to the local kids.

They're the sort of genderqueer where they like a healthy balance of gender, don't believe in the pressure to perform androgyny, and use they/them for convenience. they only refer to themself as having a binary gender in a very specific mood, or when it's funny. gender is a performance and you gotta do it For The Bit.

oh also they forcibly adopt an edgy eleven year old who has beef with them as their weird little nephew and it's the funniest fucking thing. child you are not horrible or irredeemably evil, you are eleven. cmon let's go to mcdonalds and then get you some black eyeliner and introduce you to emo bands and sonic OCs, you need an outlet.

#also they are a pokemon OC #and talk to their pokemon like very naughty cats

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llycaons · 2 years

Text

ep7

richie starting off swell by sexually harassing syd! wow!

“this is a business, not a hollow shell to project your dying fantasies onto” GET HIM SYDNEY

she mayhap did fuck up with giving the risotto to the food critic 😬 they will get through it. this one is an honest mistake

carmy’s actually fairly well put together in the kitchen usually so watching him lose it and scream and swear is like ohhh yes let’s get into this

nooo don’t swear at syd :(

marcus man come ON. you gotta be on top of this. I know you love your doughnuts but it’s cake time!!!!

carmy. dude. chill out and stop screaming. it’s not the end of the world if you get some food out late

richie and syd might actually attack each other. but oohh she’s right about everything. he IS a loser and pathetic and everyone knows it and he takes up space in the kitchen

marcus. I like you but this was a very dumb move to go up to your boss who’s losing it and going ‘I figured out the doughnuts 😊’ time and place man! get your cakes sliced!

SHE ACTUALLY STABBED HIM. SCREAM

marcus looks like he’s going to cry :( oh shit is he quitting? oh damn

MAN and everything was going so well. damn tablets

syd!!! quitting!!!!

you know I actually don’t think carmy is as much of a piece of shit as he could be. he’s definitely a bit fucked up and hasn’t treated syd fairly in the past, but he’s otherwise been fairly forgiving of mistakes, a hard-working and appreciative boss, and accommodating in his employee’s wishes. it’s really this one time that he actually loses it and starts screaming and everything

so I don’t blame syd for for leaving and I don’t think she was wrong to say what she said. but I don’t know if we’re supposed to believe if it’s true for carmy all the time either. though he did saddle her with fucking. louie

well...I hope everything is fixed next episode and she comes back. the second to last is always the worst, right?

oh jeez is he eating food off the floor. carmy. no

#the bear lb

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astaroth1357 · 3 years

Text

Demigod MC Series: Hades

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades

Lucifer

Well… this is awkward…

He’s actually met Hades multiple times for business reasons (Underworld-Devildom relations are amiable if not a little odd. Hades was something of an uncle figure to Diavolo as a wee demon lad, which should speak for itself really). He’s a gloomy fellow and not much for chit-chat, but he never thought they’d end up taking one of his kids by accident…

He had to send a formal apology letter to the Lord of the Underworld immediately, but thankfully he didn’t seem very concerned for his offspring - if anything he appeared to think the Devildom would suit them nicely which was… concerning.

And he was not wrong. The darkness, demons, ghouls, and frights of the Devildom hardly seemed to faze the MC, if anything they fit right in. He’d dare say they were thriving if not for one thing…

They were So. Damn. Bleak.

Getting a smile out of this one AT ALL was rare. For once he felt the need to check up on someone constantly just to be sure they were alright... They’d keep assuring the House that they’re not actually as sad as they look but it’s hard not to assume…

He was a little mortified at first when they first met Cerberus cause… well they called him “Cerbi” and the massive demonic guard dog rolled over for them like a Golden Retriever!

Apparently he and the Cerberus that they knew are from the same litter and they must have smelt familiar... He would have probably limited their interactions just to keep his dog on his side but after seeing the MC smile for once while they played with the big oaf well…

Cerberus got a new playmate and the MC got a massive, three-headed therapy animal. Win-win. 😌

Mammon

Do ya really gotta be such a downer all the time, MC…? 😔

He thinks they’re nice, like really nice. They’re always super concerned when his brothers attack him or when he gets injured, but he’s pretty sure it’s because they’ve seen people die before so…

At first, he had no idea why he had to be saddled with this depressing wisp of mortal but over time he started to understand that they weren’t all that sad. They had… Resting Gloom Face? Is that a thing?

They also had a different way of seeing things. He could win the lottery and they’d tell him to stay inside so he wouldn’t get hit by lightning or if he pissed off the wrong people, they’d joke about him keeping his fingers and toes. Dark stuff, but not intended to be so… well morbid.

However, what he eventually found out that the REAL advantage to having a Hades kid in the Devildom was that nothing scared them. Literally nothing. Not even the ghosts - which to reiterate, are terrifying!

Cue Mammon getting dragged to horror movies nights with his brothers and pulling the MC along to be his personal security blanket. He’ll hold onto them for dear life as they just pat his head or something, watching and not even flinching at the jumpscares.

The first time the House had an unexpected power outage he clung onto the back of their shirt like a lost child while they calmly looked for the circuit-breaker...

If he could jump into their arms every time something scary happened like Scooby-Doo, he absolutely would. His brothers make fun of him, but after seeing the MC handle Cerberus like a puppy any time something frightens them they hide behind the mortal as well…

Leviathan

In some ways, he totally relates to their moodiness but come on! Who can still look so sad when watching The Magical Ruri Hanai: Demon Girl?? Ruri-chan can make anyone smile! 😠

When he first met the MC, he was a little confused about why they didn't find him intimidating at all. He even reverted to his demon form and showed his fangs but no dice! All they said was, "I've walked along the edge of Tartarus. You're gonna have to try a lot harder than that, buddy…"

That was probably his first sign that the "human" wasn't normal…

After Mammon told him who their Dad was, things made a lot more sense. A child of Hades in the Devildom? That's ironic enough to be its own anime plot!! They certainly felt like an angsty protagonist at times. 🤷‍♀️

Truth be told, they could relate to each other in a lot of ways. You wouldn't think that an offspring of the Underworld and a demonic shut-in would have much in common but the one thing they share between them is that sense of never really fitting in.

Turns out that Hades kids are black sheep, even among other demigods, and Levi? Well, he's had trouble relating to others since his angel days. He and the mortal were like off-beat kindred spirits!

Which, I mean, you wouldn't get just by looking at them together. Levi being the impassioned super-otaku rambling their ear off while his somber companion would just go along with him quietly, but hey, there's more beneath the surface. Probably.

Now if he could just get them to cosplay as the Lord of Emptiness with him… They'd be perfect! Perfect he says!!

Satan

Highly considered drugging their food with antidepressants for a while…

This was before getting to know them better, of course, but for the first couple months he honestly couldn't shake the feeling that the mortal looked miserable!

Now, he's one to particularly care for the comfort of strangers, but just looking at them like that every day would sour his own mood quite considerably. It was very irritating...

It was only on closer inspection that he realized there was something else at play, though.

The mortal was different - even for a demigod he imagined. They took to the Devildom easily and the realm almost accepted them right back!

The flora looked better in their presence, the hellish beasts that roamed the wilds would roll over for them, and they even seemed to be welcomed in by the never-ending shadows…

It was fascinating. Like the effects of the Underworld were baked into their DNA and mingled with the environment around them… Two layers of darkness coexisting within one person.

I mean, what other creature - other than Lucifer - could ride Cerberus around like a pony??

Had they not been so kind, they'd probably scare him shit-less... Their potential power was too great to ignore. But after getting used to their gloom, at least they made for pleasant company. 🤷‍♀️

Satan likes them well enough, but even still he has to wonder just what they were capable of… you know?

Asmodeus

Oh. My. WORD. What a buzzkill!!!

Really, the new mortal was no good at parties or pictures for that matter!

Not because they looked bad, or even because he couldn't get them to smile, but because GHOSTS would always photobomb any pictures they were in!! 😫

One time he got a selfie with them on the couch and a creepy ghost child could be seen hiding behind the cushions so NOPE. No more photos with the mortal around!!

Aside from that, he couldn't say the mortal was all bad or anything…They were pretty friendly, despite their general look and feel.

Though, personally, he thought they wore far too much black... Even in the Devildom, there's normally a pop of color, you know? Was that just the Hades dress code?

And you want to know the weirdest thing? Despite everything about them screaming "Doom and Gloom," they're straaaangely popular among the RAD dating scene…

Like. Not as some heartthrob, "Love'em and Leave'em"-type, but he's found that there's a LOT of his demonic classmates who think they're cute or have a crush on them in some way…

Naturally, he can see the appeal of the mysterious, moody demigod with a dark, troubled past. It's just the demigod in question is completely oblivious to it! 🤷‍♀️

He tried to give them dating tips or play matchmaker from time to time but eventually gave up when it was clear they weren't interested. Alas, students of RAD, this is one forbidden fruit that refuses to be shared…! Such a tragedy… 😔

Beelzebub

They remind him of Belphie… like. A lot.

The similarities were obvious. They had a similar feel, made similar jokes, and even the same somewhat dreary attitude about them...

If he were being honest, at the beginning there were times when he'd open up to them a lot more than he intended because he'd forget that he wasn't actually talking to Belphie…

Thankfully, he knew better than to try and treat them like his replacement or anything. They were two different people after all. But it didn't stop him from feeling extra protective around them for a while.

Besides, there was ONE thing that set them leagues apart from Belphie and that was the fact they were a shit cook. Not quite as bad as Solomon but uh… Actually no, that's a closer call than it has any right to be...

Apparently, Hades kids don't need to eat as much and when you hang out with shades and skeletons for most of your life, you don’t really worry about making food that's any better than… "Well, technically it's edible." 🤷‍♀️

Their food won't kill a person like Solomon's, but you WILL start seeing stuff you probably shouldn't. He tried their "soup" once and swore he saw the ghost of his mother… and he doesn't even have a mother!!!

He swears that if he ever sees the MC and Solomon working together in the same kitchen he's skipping town… Whatever culinary abomination the two of them could create would probably gain sentience and eat HIM instead. He's always figured he'd go out with Death by Food, but not like that!! 😫

Belphegor

Ever meet someone who’s like looking in a mirror? Yeah, he’s getting those vibes…

He never expected the "human" to be so similar to him, it was kind of uncanny.

Upon first laying eyes on each other there was a pause… then a squint… and then… a nod.

Honestly, their combined dry wit, dark humor, and pessimistic outlook played off of each other surprisingly well. Too well for him to hate, really.

Not that it mattered because they didn’t believe him for a second when he tried to trick them (they had dealt with loads of lying monsters before). He hated to admit it, but they had a good head on their shoulders and knew better than to trust a locked up demon…

And yet, they seemed to stick around with him anyway. Because of the good conversation or just empathizing with his loneliness was anyone's guess. 🤷‍♀️

Sometimes they'd come up and sit outside the door in comfortable silence… Or they'd talk about whatever:

MC: *sitting out by the attic with their back against the door* So what happens to demons when they die…?

Belphie: *laying on the floor on the other side, staring at the ceiling* Depends on the kind. If I die, I'll just reform later.

MC: Like a reincarnation?

Belphie: Eh. *shrugs* Maybe. Haven't died yet.

MC: You could die in there, you know.

Belphie: *throws a side glare* Well thanks for bringing that up…

MC: *shrugs* What? It's true. But don't worry, I won't let you. *small-ish smile*

Belphie: *stares at them wide-eyed and pink-cheeked before turning on his side quickly* Ugh… whatever…

They did their word, somehow. They eventually got the door open and let him out, but by that time the anger was gone and he was just happy to finally talk to them face-to-face...

And good thing too, because apparently it's not smart to fight a death-child in what is essentially their element - as he saw when they summoned an army of skeletons to kick Levi's ass when he cheated them in Devil Cart...

He would not have lasted in that fight... Dodged a bullet there.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me demigods #obey me scenarios

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theydjarin · 3 years

Audio

Audio of the Hoth rescue scene from the 1983 ESB radio play, featuring some really great Han & Luke dialogue

Luke: So what’s your excuse this time? Han: ...for what? Luke: For coming out after me. I guess you can’t claim it was the money this time. Han: Well, ah. I’ll figure something out, Luke. Luke: I bet you will. 😏

Full transcript under the cut:

Han: Chewie? Hey, Chewie! You got the Falcon fixed yet? We’re getting this snowball right now before they close the shield door for the night.

Chewie: Argh?

Han: Because I’m sick of this planet, that’s why! Because Jabba’s hunting for our heads. Now warm her up and let’s raise ship.

Chewie: Aghh!

Han: WHAT?!

Chewie: Agh aghhh

Han: You took what apart?! What are you doing fine-turning the hyper drive now? Look at that mess, are you crazy?

Chewie: Ahhhhhhhhhhgghhhhhhhhhh

Han: Okay okay calm down, we still got a little while before they shut the shield door. You close up the vector guides, I’ll put the transition rig back together.

Chewie: Aghh

Han: All I want to do is get us out of here, Chewie, now put her back together the best way you can. Just so they’ll get us to our next stop.

Chewie: Aughhh

Han: Who? Her royalness? Never what she said. Remind me to tell you sometime about hob-knobbing with the other classes, it’s such fun! Oh, great, it’s just what we needed, here come the loose wiring brothers. What are you doing, Chewie? Are you a saboteur?? You think I want to spend the rest of my life here for face--

C3PO: Captain Solo--

Han: Listen, Chewie, those vector guides will do for now. Just get em back in place and tighten up the hole. I don’t want em perfect, I don’t want em pretty, I want em NOW!

C3PO: Princess Leia has been trying to get you on the comlink--

Han: Whoa whoa there. What’d you say, Threepio?

C3PO: I was attempting to draw your attention to the fact that the Princess Leia has been trying to reach you by comlink now for some consid-

Han: I turned my comlink off, I don’t want to talk to her anymore, it’s bad for my disposition.

C3PO: Indeed. Oh, well, Artoo and I are to inform you that the Princess Leia is worried about Master Luke. She doesn’t know where he is.

Han: Well, I don’t know where he is.

C3PO: Nobody knows where he is.

Han: What do you mean nobody knows? He was only a couple of minutes behind me when I rode in.

C3PO: Well you see sir--

Han: Deck officer, deck officer, come here will ya!

C3PO: Excuse me, sir, but might I inquire as to whether you intend to organize a-- mmph!

Han: Will you shut up for a sec?

Deck Officer: Sir, what can I do for you?

Han: You can tell me where Commander Skywalker is.

Deck Officer: I haven’t seen him. Is that droid malfunctioning, sir?

Han: Not anymore than usual.

Deck Officer: Then why are you holding your hand over its vocal swath?

Han: He’s got a cough. Now what about Luke?

Deck Officer: Commander Skywalker hasn’t come through the main shield door, it’s possible he came in through the south entrance.

Han: It’s possible? It’s possible? Why don’t you just go find out whether it really happened, huh?

Deck Officer: Very well, Captain, as soon as I get the rest of your--

Han: It’s getting dark out there, friend, and cold, in case you didn’t notice.

Deck Officer: I’m aware of that. I joined up with the rebels because I notice things. I’ll go and check on the Commander at once.

Han: Okay, yeah yeah, look, hey, thanks, pal.

R2D2: [angry beeping]

Han: Huh? Oh, sure, Artoo. Sorry, Threepio.

C3PO: Thank you, Captain Solo. Although there was really no need for that, I’m sure. And might I now inquire what has happened to Master Luke.

Han: Well you just go ahead and inquire all you like, Threepio, it never does any good around this deep freeze.

C3PO: Well!

Han: Seal her up, Chewie, I’ll be right back.

C3PO: Really, Artoo, have you ever met such an impossible man? Come along, let’s find the Princess Leia and tell her what’s happened. This is what we get for allowing Master Luke go off on his own, without us to look after him.

Chewie: Aghh ahhhg!

C3PO: Yes, Chewbacca, of course we shall keep you informed of any new developments. Between ourselves, Artoo, I think Master Luke is in considerable danger.

[scene break]

Han: What’d you find out? Where is he?

Deck Officer: Sir, Commander Skywalker hasn’t come in the south entrance either. No one’s heard from him since his last communication check with you.

Han: Well he was clear up on the ridge line then!

Deck Officer: He might’ve forgotten to check in.

Han: Luke? No, where he grew up, people learn to be careful. I’m going looking for him.

Deck Officer: But Captain Solo!

Han: Have the techs got those snow speeders working? I’d use the Falcon but she’s on downtime right now.

Deck Officer: The snow speeders aren’t ready yet. We’ve been having all kinds of trouble adapting them to the cold. The techs are running up a bunch of replacement parts, they should be ready by morning.

Han: Well, morning ain’t likely to do Commander Skywalker very much good, is it? Isn’t there anything in this whole base that’ll fly?

Deck Officer: Nothing that can handle a Hoth blizzard, sir. Those winds would smash you down before you got halfway--

Han: Alright, alright, forget it, I’ll have to ride out and look for him on a tauntaun. Come on, move it, we haven’t got much time.

Deck Officer: Captain Solo! General Riken gave orders no one’s to leave the base!

Han: This one over here will have to do, it’s still saddled.

Deck Officer: Captain Solo!

Han: Tell the command center that I’ll keep in touch with them over comlink band alpha.

Deck Officer: Sir! General Riken doesn’t want anyone leaving the base!

Han: Lieutenant.

Deck Officer: Sir.

Han: Lieutenant. What did you just call me?

Deck Officer: Sir?

Han: Right. Now get outta my way.

Deck Officer: But the temperature’s dropping too rapidly. Even a tauntaun couldn’t survive for long!

Han: Yeah, my friend’s out there someplace, and I’m giving you a direct order to make it easy for ya, so don’t waste my time!

Deck Officer: I’m afraid I can’t let you do this, Captain Solo! I have my standing orders.

Han: Lieutenant, have you ever seen my first mate? ‘bout, uh, three times your size, covered in fur, got a bad temper?

Deck Officer: Everybody in the base knows Chewbacca, sir.

Han: Uh huh. Well if you or anybody else tries to stop me from riding that tauntaun outta here, Chewie’s gonna take it real bad.

Deck Officer: But General Riken has clearly instructed me that no one--

Han: Do you think General Riken wants a quarter of a ton of roaring mad Wookie running around this base?

Deck Officer: I’m reasonably certain that he doesn’t, sir.

Han: Smart boy. Now, stand aside!

Deck Officer: I’m trying to save your life! Your tauntaun will freeze before you reach the first marker. Even with an insulated suit, if you’re on foot out there, you’re dead.

Han: THEN I’LL SEE YOU IN HELL! Hyah!

[scene break]

Luke: Ughhh. Ughhhhhh. Dagobah. Dagobah!

Han: Luke!

Luke: What?

Han: Luke!

Luke: Ben?

Han: Luke! Whoa, girl, whoa, hold on. Luke! Speak to me, kid. Here, come on, sit up.

Luke: Ben? Han? Han!

Han: Yeah, it’s me, kid, it’s me.

Luke: It’s cold. Han. So cold. I’m warmer.

Han: Warmer? No, Luke, that means you’re freezing. Fight it, come on! Don’t go to sleep on me. Don’t do this to me, Luke. Come on, give me a sign here. Luke. Stay with me. Stay with me, kid.

Tauntaun: [death noises]

Han: Oh no, girl, don’t you give me problems too. The tauntaun’s dead, Luke. Where’s your lightsaber. I need it.

Luke: Ben! Yoda--

Han: There’s not much time. There’s only one way to keep you warm until I get the emergency shelter. [lightsaber zuup] I’m sorry about this, old girl. Okay, Luke, I’m going to have to shove you inside the carcass.

Luke: Dagobah!

Han: This may smell bad, kid, but it’ll keep you alive until I can get the shelter built. And I thought these tauntauns smelled bad on the outside.

[scene break]

Han: Hold still, Luke, I gotta give you a stim shot. There, that oughta take hold and bring you around in a second or two. This is Solo to base. Solo to base. Command center, I don’t know if you can read me, but I’ve got Luke. He’s alive but my tauntaun’s down for good. We’re in an emergency shelter. Do you copy? The storm’s kicking up pretty bad. I don’t know if this hut can take it. Just come for us as soon as you can. I’ve got the homing beacon on. Do your best for us, you guys.

Luke: Han...

Han: Lay quiet, Luke. Come on, there’s not much room in here.

Luke: Han, I can’t see!

Han: You’re snowblind, Luke, but it’ll pass. We’ll get you taken care of soon, I promise. And keep that thermal wrapped around you, we gotta warm you up a little at a time.

Luke: Han... it would be you. How’d you find me?

Han: Snoozing in the snow, that’s how I found you.

Luke: Nice going. You have some sense of timing is all. Where are we?

Han: Emergency shelter. North side of the glacier field.

Luke: You think this thing’s gonna hold up?

Han: Well. I’m sort of hoping for the best, buddy.

Luke: We sure picked a great time to field test it, huh?

Han: Haha, yeah, perfect. How ya feeling?

Luke: Oh... terrific. Why don’t we go outside and get some calisthenics in before it gets too dark?

Han: Sure. Heh. We could always play some tag.

Luke: Hehe. Oh... How’d you get out here?

Han: Tauntaun. There wasn’t any other way. She didn’t make it, though.

Luke: So we’re here til the weather breaks.

Han: Yeah, that’s about it.

Luke: I can’t feel my legs. I’m numb!

Han: You’re gonna be okay. There’s not a lot more I can do for you with a medikit. But they’ll put you through nerve therapy and float you in a regenerative tank and you’ll be as good as new.

Luke: Too bad the nearest one’s a couple kilometers away through a blizzard-

Han: No more talking like that. You’re gonna make it, ya hear? What happened to your face? You look like you walked into a rotor blade.

Luke: Oh. It’s a wampa. Ice creature jumped me on the ridge and killed my tauntaun.

Han: How very rude! as Threepio would say. I hope you killed it right back.

Luke: Well, it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. Whew. What smells so bad in here?

Han: Hehehe. You. You spent a little time inside my tauntaun while I was having a house raising party.

Luke: Well I guess you can cancel all my social engagements for the evening. So what’s your excuse this time?

Han: Huh? …for what?

Luke: For coming out after me. I guess you can’t claim it was the money this time.

Han: Well, ah. I’ll figure something out, Luke.

Luke: I bet you will. 😏

Han: This hut’s gonna hold, Luke, and you’re gonna make it.

Luke: I only wish I could’ve seen Leia. Said goodbye one last time.

Han: I got an idea, pal. Why don’t you just settle down and relax, and tomorrow you can say hello to her instead.

#han solo #luke skywalker #skysolo #star wars #empire strikes back #hanluke #i couldn't find this on tumblr so thought i'd upload it #love the role reversal of han being optimistic and luke being skeptical #and han being So Soft with luke #i might try to do a transcript this weekend!!

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neon-junkie · 3 years

Text

The Workhorse

Summary: Once a prized pony, Arthur has found himself single-handedly carrying the entire camps weight, and it's finally worn him down. Disgusted by how the gang treats him, you drag your sweetheart out of camp for a weekend away, spoiling him to many things: a hot bath, dinner, a massage, and a strap-on.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

Word Count: 3507

Rating: NSFW

Tags: Pegging, dom!Reader, sub!Arthur, Established relationship, Praise kink, massage.

Notes: me?? writing Arthur content?? I know I rarely post about him, but I do love Mister Morgan, enough to peg his ass

Here he comes, your other half, trailing back into camp with heavy bags under his eyes; you may be on the other side of the camp, but you can spot how exhausted he is from a mile off. Arthur's back is hunched over, his mouth slightly parted, and the grunt he makes as he forces himself off the saddle makes your heart shatter. Your poor lover, your sweetheart, your darling Arthur, as you like to call him. You've told certain gang members off before, for making Arthur do all the heavy work whilst other capable members lie back and relax. It's manipulative, conning Arthur into doing all the work simply because he struggles to say no. Well, enough is enough. You're trailing over to him now, ready to take his saddlebags off him and shoo him into your shared tent. As always, he protests the second you reach out for the bag, but you gently swat his hand away, and poor Arthur doesn't have the energy to refuse again. "Thank you," he replies, barely above a whisper, and takes your hand as you trail him over to your shared tent.

"It's so unfair," you begin to grumble on the walk, hoping that the camp members can overhear you. "Making you do all the work, sweetheart, you're so visibly tired," you sigh. "It's alright, darlin', I've just had a rough couple of days," Arthur replies, removing his hat as he enters the enclosed tent. "I'm not having it! not any more!" you grunt, placing Arthurs saddlebags down where they usually go. You turn to Arthur, whose looking down at you with tired eyes. "We're going to get away from here for a few days, somewhere relaxing," you begin telling him as you undress him. Arthur allows you to, knowing he'd happily collapse from exhaustion in his dirty clothes, if you'd let him. "You got anywhere in mind?" Arthur questions, shrugging his shirt off, followed by kicking off his boots and pants. "I've seen a cabin not too far from here. It's secluded, surrounded by a pretty landscape, and seemed deserted when I passed by," you explain. You dip a rag into some water, rinsing it before approaching Arthur. In the few seconds that you've turned to get the wash rag ready, he's sat down on the cot, looking like a sad puppy in just his briefs. "When did you find it? you ain't told me about this place before," Arthur asks, his head lifting as he speaks to you. "Whilst you were away," you explain. "Oh," Arthur sighs, watching you slide the cloth across his arm, attempting to clean him from his many layers of dirt. "Must'a been gone for a while." "Just under two weeks, I was ready to go looking for you," you tell him as you continue to bathe him, trailing the cloth over his other arm. "Did Dutch ask you to do that?" "No, I was going to leave on my own accord." "Was you gonna tell him?" "Of course." Arthur seems happy with your answer, his eyes following you as you rinse the cloth, watching the water turn brown within seconds. He straightens his back as you clean over his chest, trailing down his stomach, and gliding over his thighs. Once you stand back up, Arthur lets out a yawn, and you tell him that you're almost finished. He lets out a sigh of relief when you tell him to lie down on his front, letting out a hum of appreciation as you wipe the dirt off his back. Arthur's clean, or as clean as he can be with a wet rag. You can tell how exhausted he is as he shuffles about in your cot, rolling onto his side to free up your side of the bed. You two don't exchange any words, considering Arthur is already fast asleep as you pull the covers up over both of you, blowing out the lantern and curling up behind Arthur. Your arm wriggles beneath his head, your other arm wrapped around his waist, spooning him tenderly for the first time in days.

----

Dutch received an earful when he tried to protest you taking Arthur away for a relaxing weekend. "But I need him to-" he attempted to say, only for his face to turn white when you snapped, chewing him out, intentionally loud enough for everybody to hear. "Alright, whatever Arthur needs," Dutch eventually agreed, but only because you'd forced him to. It's unbelievable that his boss, his mentor, his somewhat-father-figure is against Arthur having some time off, a well needed break. Dutch makes passive comments here and there about how tired Arthur constantly looks, and you're surprised he's never suggested that Arthur relaxes, even briefly by the campfire. No bother, you've taken him out of camp to a remote cabin, one that you've spent the last week scouting out. The cabin is perfect, picturesque and somehow in decent condition. You spent a few days camping nearby, sitting, watching, waiting for anybody to come by and claim it as their own, but no owner showed up, so you're borrowing it. It overlooks a scenic landscape, a view that Arthur enjoyed as he laid back in his bath; the tub is small, but then again, Arthur is a big boy. He laughed for the first time in weeks as you scrubbed his hair, making playful comments here and there, leaving kisses on his temples after giving him a well needed head massage. Arthur attempted to wash the rest of his body, but you removed the bar of soap from his hand, and told him to enjoy his relaxing weekend. "My weekend? you really are spoilin' me, ain't you?" Arthur asked with a laugh, and didn't bother protesting. It's clear that Arthur feels guilty, not wanting his weight to be on anybody's shoulders, but he knows you well, and he knows that you won't take no for an answer, not when it comes to caring for your sweetheart. The only thing Arthur did protest was you drying him off. At first, he was fine with it, until you started drying his bum playfully, to which he swatted you away and reminded you that "I'm a big boy, I know how to dry my behind." Finally, Arthur is clean, relaxing in the nude on the double bed. He looks like a slob, sprawled out across the covers with a tin of peaches sitting on his chest. Every so often, Arthur picks a peach slice out, and slops it into his mouth, gobbing away and letting out a tired sigh. "What are you sighing for again?" you question, peering your head over your shoulder. You pause your current task, prepping dinner, to speak to him, not wanting to accidentally slice your fingers. "I just ain't used to relaxin', that's all," Arthur replies before eating another peach slice. "Well, you'll have to get used to it, cause I ain't lettin' the camp run you dry any more." "Oh, you gonna put your foot down with them?" he questions, letting out a soft laugh. "I am," you nod, before turning back to your cooking. "It ain't fair on you, Arthur. I don't see anybody liftin' a finger around that-" "-Darlin'," Arthur cuts you off. "It's alright, I know what you're sayin'. And like you said, maybe I should start puttin' my foot down with 'em too. Sayin' 'no' and all that. It just... it ain't like me," he sighs. "I know, Arthur. You've got a heart of gold, even if you won't admit it." Arthur mumbles something under his breath, and you assume it's along the lines of "no, I don't." Typical, of course he's going to reject praise. Arthur's had it drilled into his head from such a young age that he's a bad man, a killer, a thief, and so on, but you see so much more than that, and you're willing to do whatever it takes to help him at least see a peak of the good man that he truly is.

Dinner is slid into the oven, and you've got at least an hour to kill, possibly more, depending on how old and unkept this oven is. Your shoes were kicked off long ago, and now you're slipping off a few items of clothing, peeling the layers down until you're in just your undergarments. "More treats for me?" Arthur flirts as he watches you undress. "I'm afraid I ain't wearing the nice lingerie, Arthur," you reply, shaking your head softly. "All your lingerie is nice! how many times have I gotta tell you that?" "Oh, I see how it is!" you laugh. "So, you won't let me tell you that you're a good man, but you expect me to listen when you say all my lingerie is nice?" you question, playfully pointing out his hypocrisy as you crawl onto the bed, sitting on your knees beside him. "That ain't the same," Arthur murmurs, tilting his head to look away from you. He finishes off his final peach slice, placing the empty can on the bedside table, and turns to face you. "So, what now?" he asks. "Now, you let me give you a massage," you say with a smile. "A massage?!" Arthur blurts out. "You really are doing everythin' for me this weekend," he laughs, but doesn't protest. Instead, Arthur shuffles down the bed, rolling over onto his front. He bunches up the pillows beneath his head, his broad arms wrapping around them, snuggling down into the feather pillow. Arthur looks just like he always does - covered in bruises and cuts, his skin worn and flaky, peeling in some places from sunburn that he's caught out on the road. He's truly a rugged, classic cowboy, although Arthur doesn't always like the term. It's been drilled into his head by Dutch that 'outlaw' is the proper term, which is correct, considering Arthur doesn't herd cows for a living. You reach down over the edge of the bed, fishing into your rucksack for the bottle of massage oil you've brought specifically for this occasion. Arthur has a perfect, peachy behind, that you straddle and sit on, then begin getting to work. The oil is warmed up in your hands before smearing it all over Arthurs back; your hands trail up to his shoulders, coating them with whatever oil is left on your hands, before focusing on the massage. To nobody's surprise, he's tense, full of knots, lumps and bumps. Arthur reminds you of a workhorse, one that has been left in his harness for far too long; he's not been brushed in a long time, his coat now sticky and matted, and his hooves are overgrown and causing him pain. If only there was a way to shame the camp for what they've done, to make it clear just how much they've worn Arthur down, far beyond his bones. Thankfully, Arthur lets out sighs of relief, pleasant hums, small words of appreciation like "right there," and "oh, another knot?" His eyes are shut throughout it all, complimenting his relaxed face, but on the odd occasion, Arthurs brows do furrow as you work away another knot. You continue your trail, over his arms, down his shoulder blades, along his spine, and without thinking, you start massaging his bum. At first, Arthur laughs, and thinks you're joking. "You want me to stop?" you question. "...Nah, it's quite nice, actually," Arthur encourages, and chuckles to himself as you continue, playfully kneading at each of his cheeks. You shuffle down the bed as you go, spending far too long on his thighs; they're solid, as hard as his biceps and chest, and you question if he could crush somebody's skull between them. He continues showing his appreciation through the same small comments and pleasant sounds, but does grumble as you defeat a knot in his calf. Your hands trail up his body again, much quick this time, and return to playfully massaging his bum. "You really like m'peach, don't you?" Arthur says with a laugh, his eyes still shut, not paying much attention to your playfulness. "I do, you must do a lot of squats on your travels," you reply. "I guess I do, between everythin' else." Jealous is an understatement, it's downright unfair that Arthur Morgan has an ass this fine. However, as you're massaging away, an idea crosses your mind. You can't deny that you didn't prepare for this, wanting to be ready for whatever Arthur needs this weekend, so why not give it a try? You continue massaging away, innocent as always, but you slide the pad of your finger between his cheeks, making sure it trails over his entrance. Arthur doesn't react, and you assume he thinks you made a mistake, so you slide your finger over again. This time, Arthur lets out a hum, and that's it, that's all you manage to draw out from him. He'd tell you to stop, if he wanted you to, but he hasn't, so you continue. You eventually put your focus on his entrance, momentarily moving away to slick your fingers up in oil. Arthur lets out a deep exhale as your damp fingers press against his entrance, rubbing over his holes in circles, testing the waters before dipping in. Arthur lets out a sigh as you start pushing a finger in, only sinking your finger down to the first joint. You pause, and check to see how Arthur's doing; he's golden, a soft smile across his lips, and you're happy with how willing he seems. You then push down to the next joint. To your surprise, Arthur pushes his hips up, rutting against your fingers, pushing your finger into him until he reaches your knuckle. His hips return to resting on the bed, and he lets you take the lead, slowly working your single digit in and out of him. Arthur lets out the softest sighs you've ever heard, barely above a whisper, clearly enjoying the special attention that you've giving him. Once he feels ready, you begin slipping another finger in. This time, Arthur moans, his eyes remaining shut as you begin slowly fucking him with your fingers. "Damn," Arthur whimpers as you reach your knuckles. "This alright?" you question. "Yeah, real alright," Arthur moans. "Although, this ain't what I expected when you said you were gonna take care of me," he says with a soft laugh. "You let me know if you want me to stop," you reassure him, but your words are cut short as Arthur protests. "I won't be needin' to do that." "Oh? I think you forgot something, Arthur," you tut. Your voice is firm, a tone that you only use when needed, and Arthur picks up on it straight away. "I'm sorry... Miss," he sighs. "That's better, good boy." Arthur begins gripping at the pillow, bunching the thick fabric up in his fists, his head burying into it as you begin scissoring him, preparing him as much as you can. It's been so long since he received this kind of treatment, always so busy with work, always away on his travels, resorting to using his own hand whenever he can. It's rare that you two are left alone, and even rarer to be in a quiet and comfortable setting, so you might as well make the most of it.

"You feel ready, Arthur," you comment as you roll onto your side, relaxing on the bed beside him. Arthur finally peeks up, his eyes meeting yours, blown and hazy, entranced by your magic. "Ready for what, Miss?" he questions. "How's about I show you?" you suggest, tilting your head to latch your lips onto Arthurs. He kisses you tenderly, as always, his lips trailing over yours as light as a feather. Arthur lets out a whimper, crying into your mouth as you begin moving your fingers again; he continues his attempt at kissing you, but can't help the mewls that escape his lips as you continue toying with him. You break the kiss, your eyes meeting Arthurs; he's gazing at you lovingly, with a layer of lust drawn over him. "Please show me, Miss," Arthur begs. A soft kiss is placed on Arthur forehead as you slip your fingers from him, wiping yourself off on the covers before shuffling back up onto your knees. "No peeking," you order, and you watch as Arthur turns his head back against the pillow, shutting his eyes. You don't take too long to get ready, knowing exactly how to fasten this strap on. It always feels a little odd at first, foreign and somewhat sin-worthy, as you know neither of you should be doing this, but who's going to arrest you? God? You return to straddling Arthur, your cock slapping his butt cheek as you settle down. Arthur instantly knows what's in store for him, "I knew it," he mutters under his breath. "Don't get cheeky with me, boy," you teasingly prod. Arthur lets out a soft chuckle as he replies "I won't, Miss." You use some more oil to slick your cock up, adding a generous amount, before lining yourself up against Arthurs entrance. Slowly, you begin pushing in. Arthur deeply exhales as the tip enters him, his sigh turning into a long, drawn out moan as you sink deeper. Once fully sheathed, you hold yourself there, letting Arthur relax around your length. He's already panting, his eyes scrunched shut, his forehead slightly sweaty. Within time, Arthur calms down, and gives you a small nod to indicate that he's ready. You take it slow, watching as your cock disappears, then reappears. "Good boy," you coo, placing a kiss on Arthur shoulder blade. His cheeks are turning redder by the second, and he shifts his upper body upright, lying like a sphinx; it's the perfect position, you're able to thrust your cock down into Arthur, whilst having easy access to his neck and shoulders, soon to be covered in kisses. After some time, you pick up the pace. Arthur begins moaning, babbling out phrases like "thank you, Miss" and "yes please, Miss." "This is exactly what you need, isn't it?" you comment. Arthur's about to reply, but you slam your cock sharply into him, cutting his words short as he falls limp against the pillow. He stutters a few times before managing to show his appreciation, "it is, Miss." "And you look so pretty, as always, Arthur. Such a pretty boy, taking this strap for me." You feel Arthur tense up at your comment; he's fighting the urge to reject your praise, constantly thinking he doesn't deserve it. Arthur licks his lips before replying, "I am, Miss." "Good boy," you smile, dipping your head down to kiss his cheek. "My good boy," you correct yourself. "Your good boy," Arthur nods in agreement, before burying his head in the pillow, his hands gripping at it yet again. The pace you're going at is comfortable, not too slow, and not too fast; you're not being a tease, nor are you breaking a sweat, but it seems it's enough to make Arthur begin hitting peak. He always lets out specific moans when he's about to cum, only you're not ready for this to be over, not just yet. "Don't cum yet, sweetheart," you order in a soft and sweet tone. "M'tryin', it's just... it's been so long," Arthur whimpers. His head turns slightly as he talks, showing off his vibrant cheeks, and the glow of sweat painted across his face. "I know, Arthur," you sigh, kissing his shoulder. "But we've got all weekend to catch up," you smile, and return to your steady pace. Arthur's practically melted on the bed, sandwiched between you and the mattress. He already looks debauched, no doubt he'll need a towel bath before bed, if the bed is still sleepable, as you're almost certain Arthur has left a puddle of pre-cum atop of it. Oh well, you brought spare blankets for a reason. "M-Miss... I can't," Arthur pants. "You gotta... you gotta let me," he pleads. Arthur sounds like he's about to burst into tears, and you accept his plead by slipping out of him. "Roll over," you order, and Arthur flips over milliseconds after you order him to, eager as always. You shuffle down the bed and wrap your lips around his cock, to which Arthur practically sobs. He cums instantly, his hand resting on the back of your head, not pushing you down, but relaxing there instinctively. Arthur lets out a trail of sighs and moans, thanking you over and over. You milk him for all he's worth, running your tongue along his overly-sensitive shaft before sliding off him with a 'pop.' You've barely swallowed when Arthur grabs you, pulling you up against him. "Your turn, Miss," he blurts out, rushing to slip his hand between your legs. He dips beneath your strap, sinking his fingers into you, and curls them, rutting them perfectly. Arthur knows what he's doing, he knows your body better than you do, and you feel yourself tightening around him moments later, squirming against him as you cum. Near the end of your orgasm, Arthur catches your lips with his, and uses his spare hand to pull you down into a deep kiss. You're both starving, letting tongues slide against each other, noses bumping slightly, moans and groans escaping between kisses. Eventually, the kiss relaxes, as well as your bodies, falling limp atop of him. Arthur slips his fingers from you, wiping himself off on the covers before wrapping his arms around you. "God damn," he mutters, then places a kiss to your temple. "I needed that, I really needed that... thank you." "You ain't gotta thank me, Arthur," you reply as you trail your fingertips across his chest. Arthur doesn't verbally reply, instead, he gives you a slight squeeze during the cuddle. You're both exhausted, drained on the first day of your weekend away, but you'll probably be refreshed by the time morning rolls around, ready to wake Arthur up with another surprise. The silence is soon broken as Arthur sniffs the air, his nose scrunching up at the scent. "You smell somethin'?" he questions. "Shit, the dinner!!"

#rdrwriting #the workhorse #fem reader #nsft #female reader #f!reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x female reader #estabished relationship #smut #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr fanfic #rdr fanfiction #rdr2 fanfic

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amorgansgal · 3 years

Text

Moonlight as my Guide

Chapter Three of Cruel, Cruel World! If you’d like to read the first chapter it’s here, the 2nd chapter is here and you can read the whole thing on Ao3.

Warnings: Depiction of illness.

He has found himself thinking about her, the worry niggling at the back of his mind. It has been over two weeks and the rabbit they caught won’t last forever. Will she have been able to find more things to eat, will she have learnt how to use her husband’s rifle? He knows his presence will likely do her no good, that she would do better to not associate herself with an outlaw. And yet he finds himself riding along the path that runs by the train tracks, after he has made a visit to Annesburgh.

His horse, Cleopatra, trundles along, he’s not encouraging her with kicks to her side or clicks of his tongue. Arthur is too busy arguing in his mind that he shouldn’t visit Charlotte, he shouldn’t put her at risk, he shouldn’t care too deeply whether she lives or dies. But he’s already reached the Brandywine drop and is following the white, churning water that leaves cool droplets on his face. Perhaps it is part of dying. He must know, he has to be able to rest knowing that people are alive and well. Assumptions just won’t do anymore.

As Cleo trots lightly through the green swaying trees, the peaceful, quiet morning is interrupted by the loud crack of gunfire coming from Charlotte’s cabin. He immediately spurs his horse into a gallop and then once he’s near the entrance tumbles down from the saddle, foot almost catching in a stirrup. He runs up the rest of the hill, heart racing, desperate not to find her lying dead or begging for mercy at the hands of some thief looking for what little money she has!

He’s barely made it into the garden, when relief floods his heart as he hears Charlotte’s frustrated cry of, ‘Gosh darnit! Not a single one…’ and once he reaches the top of the hill, he sees her. She’s wearing the same blue blouse and plaid skirt, but both have evidently been cleaned and the skirt mended. She’s holding a rifle in her arms, her frustration all too evident as she kicks the ground with the toe of her boot.

She is busy reloading the gun, when she hears his footsteps and turns her head towards him. The frown she wears disappears within an instance and she smiles joyfully on seeing him. ‘Oh, hey there!’

He finds himself warmly returning the smile. ‘How you feelin’ Ma’am?’

‘Much better than I’ve felt in a long time, I… If we hadn’t caught that rabbit, I don’t think I’d have made it another day.’

‘Well, you look better.’

Her face is clear from the mud and tears, her skin looks clean and soft, though flushed from sunlight and the cold wind that blows down from the surrounding hills. A few strands of her dark hair have fallen loose from her bun, they shift lightly against the breeze. Arthur feels a strange urge to reach out and tuck them behind her ears, to feel the dark hair that is lined with silver against his hand, to cup her face in his hands and feel the warm flush.

‘Better and determined, thanks to you. And if I’m going to learn to hunt, I figured it was time I learned how to use Cal’s gun properly.’

She turns back to a row of glass bottles that have been set up on a crate and rests the gun against her shoulder.

‘And how’s that workin’ out for ya?’ he asks.

‘Well, let’s just say my prey is looking decidedly unscathed.’ She aims carefully, and then fires. The gun ricochets upwards almost out of her hands and she staggers back a little, chuckling at her efforts.

‘But the end of labour is to gain leisure, is that not what Aristotle said?’ She suddenly looks flustered, gazing down at the ground and Arthur moves the gun away from her face, so it is instead pointing out towards the entrance near the road.

‘Well, I… I don’t know much about Aristotle, but erm, I know a thing or two about shooting a gun.’ He gently turns her around to face the target again. ‘Look you gotta hold steady and firm.’ He places his hands on her shoulders, positioning the gun against the crook of her arm and straightening her back. The warmth of her bleeds through her shirt and he quickly pulls his hands away.

‘You just focus, breathe slowly and always pull the trigger on empty lungs.’ He gazes at her face, the small frown above her eyes and the eager, determined look in them is beautiful.

His eyes flick down her shoulders, her back, but before he goes any lower, he quickly walks round to her other side, anything to distract him from the way his mind is wandering. Christ’s sake, she’s a widow after all, her husband barely resting in his grave! He ignores the uncomfortable wave of shame that sweeps into his gut.

‘Here, I’ll show ya.’ He pulls his revolver from the holster and focuses on the bottles. ‘Okay… calm and steady… don’t snatch at the trigger.’ Arthur murmurs, more for Charlotte’s benefit than his. This is second nature to him, muscle memory. If he aims a gun he knows where the bullet will go. He aims at a green bottle and fires; the glass explodes and he just catches Charlotte’s gasp of amazement.

‘You make it look so easy,’ she says warmly.

‘Alright, you try now. Remember to breathe,’ he says, quickly brushing over her compliment.

She hoists the gun back to her shoulder, her green eyes narrowing on the target. ‘Wait to breathe out… wait to breathe out…’ she murmurs to herself. She fires, the bullet whizzes past the bottle, hitting the ground and sending a plume of dust into the air. Charlotte, however, smiles at him. ‘Would you look at that? I haven’t hit one that close all day!’

‘Not bad. Focus on the inhale, shoot on the exhale.’

She rolls her eyes at him good naturedly. ‘Come on, you got to give me some praise!’

‘I just did.’

She moves the gun back up and focuses on the bottles again, but her eyes suddenly dart over to the house and she gives a sigh. ‘Oh no, that wretched rat is back. Over there, do you see?’

Arthur glances over and sees a large brown rat scurrying by the undergrowth that surrounds the two buildings. The rat pokes its head up and sniffs the air, turning beady eyes on him. If he didn’t know better, he’d say the rat is glaring at him.

‘It’s been a thorn in my side ever since we moved here. Could you kill it?’

The words have barely left her mouth, when he fires the pistol and the rat is no more. Charlotte lets out a small gasp of surprise that turns into a chuckle of amusement.

‘Show off! Alright, let me try again.’

She raises the rifle and Arthur watches as her long fingers carefully hold the weight of the gun. Her hands are calloused and a little dirty, and he finds himself glancing down at his own. They almost match, though his are certainly rougher. He wonders what it would be like to clasp her hand in his.

‘Come on, come on…’ She shoots and one of the glass bottles explodes into a shower of glass. He grins and Charlotte staggers back a little as though she can’t quite believe it. ‘Yes! I hit it! I hit it, didn’t I?’

She lets out a breathless, excited laugh and turns to him with a warm smile. ‘What can I say? Thank you.’ Her green eyes are shining brilliantly, her lips parted in a delighted smile and she shifts closer to him. He should draw back, take a step away from her, but instead he finds himself entranced by the forest glade of her eyes. She looks into his own and just for a moment the trees and nearby river seem to fall silent, as though the world is holding its breath in anticipation.

It is Charlotte who draws back, a soft flush on her cheeks and she worries her lower lip. ‘I still have some of the rabbit left that I salted up. Would you join me for a meal? It’s the least I can do.’

He gives a short nod, now uncomfortable with his actions and trying to gaze anywhere but her eyes. As she leads the way to her cabin, he directs his attention to the hills and forest that surrounds the house, to avoid looking at the sway of her hips. Isn’t it bad enough that his own selfishness brings him to her door? Because he is seemingly determined to bring death and destruction to good people who don’t deserve it? Because he likes the way she smiles and looks at him and praises him.

They walk into the cabin, it’s a simple, rustic place. There’s a soft curtain with green leaves covering the window that looks out onto the backyard, a few cupboards line the walls most with books on them and there is table in the centre of the room. A warm fire is still burning in the grate and Charlotte throws another log when she passes it. On one of the cupboards, he sees a rudimentary trap that looks like it’s being repaired.

‘Go ahead and take a seat at the table. Food is just about done.’

He does as he is told and sits down. Charlotte grabs hold of a cloth and hefts the huge pot of stew over, then places on the table. She lets out a slight hiss and pulls her hands away quickly.

‘Well, it’s… it’s good and hot. I hope you enjoy it.’ She heads back to the cupboards and picks up two bowels, a large ladle and some cutlery. ‘You helped me catch it after all.’

She smiles at him and dishes the stew into the bowl, then passes him a spoon. ‘Bon appetit!’

‘Huh?’ he looks up in confusion and immediately feels bad on seeing the embarrassed flush that stains her cheeks. Goddammit, can’t he just keep his mouth shut and not be such an ignorant fool?

‘Please enjoy,’ she says, giving him a small smile. ‘And thank you again for everything. I really am grateful.’

‘Ahh,’ he shakes his head and reaches for his spoon. ‘It was nothing.’

‘You’re a good man.’

He gazes down at the bowl, shifting his spoon amongst the rich brown stew, the carrots and potatoes. He wished he didn’t keep hearing that. He wished people would stop saying it. He’s not. A good man is the last thing he could possibly be. He looks back up at her.

‘Oh, you don’t really know me.’

‘I know enough,’ she insists, her gentle smile warming him better than any stew. Although he’s always tempted to argue back and insist he’s not a good man, he finds himself focusing on the stew instead and quickly placing a spoonful in his mouth. He doesn’t want to disagree with Charlotte, she’s been far too kind to him, but she couldn’t be more wrong.

‘There’s always more to find in ourselves, you helped me to see that.’ She turns around and picks up another bowl from the counter. She sits back down and reaches over to the ladle in the stew pot. ‘My husband, Cal, was such an optimist. I found that to be very contagious.’

The stew is good, certainly better than Pearsons, though Arthur is aware that’s not a particularly hard feat. But it’s warming, rich and hearty, seasoned with small green herbs, a decent amount of pepper and salt. It runs hot down his throat and he suddenly finds his lungs burning, that deep desire to cough overriding everything. He tries to listen to Charlotte as she continues talking, hoping that her soothing, calm voice will distract him from painful ache in his chest.

‘But there’s a fine line between optimism and naiveté. We were both born with the silver spoon… banquets, butlers, valets…’

He gives a slight cough so he can speak, but it does nothing to soothe the burning claws that have entrenched themselves in his lungs. ‘Sounds terrible,’ he manages to rasp.

‘It was just… so many people, so many things. I was lost in it, I was crushed by it.’ She’s staring down at the stew, barely a mouthful has passed her lips. She looks back up at him, he avoids turning his head when he sees the deep look of trust in her eyes. He can’t hurt her, even if just purely by her knowing him.

‘My father was very overbearing. Then we came out here and I got crushed by this.’ She gazes around the room for a moment and then gives a light laugh. ‘You know I pictured myself picking fresh vegetables, sipping homemade wine, writing a great novel. But I turned out to be a far more pathetic anti-heroine than any I could ever pen.’

It sounds like a pretty dream and wouldn’t he like to be part of that dream. Helping to dig up potatoes, sipping wine with her on the porch, drawing her as she writes her great novel. But there isn’t a hope in hell that she would want him, she came here with her husband after all, she’s not looking for another man to take Cal’s place. It’s not like he has enough time to take his place, even if he wanted to.

‘Ah well… I reckon you’re going to be just fine.’ He coughs heavily. It’s getting worse, the claws sinking into his throat, till he can taste blood on his tongue and he can barely gasp for air.

Charlotte looks up at him, concern written all over her features. ‘Are you alright? Can I get you some water?’

‘No, I’m… I’m, I’m fine. I just um…’ He manages to get to his feet, trying to clear away the deep cough so he can continue talking to her, can listen to her talk about her family, her hopes, her plans. But right now, all he can concentrate on is the rasping cough, the tight burn of his lungs, the iron tang on his tongue that is mixed with the savoury taste of stew.

‘Yeah, thank you for this. I think it’s, it’s best if I ju… If I make…’ The cough takes every last bit of strength he had and leaves him gasping for air on his knees. He tries to inhale, but his body is wracked with the painful coughing. He hears Charlotte come to his side and through his half closed eyes, sees her hands reaching out to him, but shamefully he succumbs to the exhaustion his body has felt for far too long. The darkness swallows him up.

He wakes and it’s not with the soothing comfort of someone who is well rested, who relishes the warmth of their bed and the enjoys the gentle lull at the promise of a new day. He wakes with a cough, the gasping air rattling in his lungs and chest, his throat tight and heavy. He wakes on a small bed, by the looks of things one for a child, and slowly pushes himself up so he can get some air in his lungs.

There’s a small bedside table next to him, with a folded letter resting against a lacquered box with a brown lid and gold trim. White flowers decorate the lid and sides of the box. He picks up the letter and unfolds it. The neat script can only be Charlotte’s, it’s pretty and elegant to look at. No doubt something that was hammered into her from childhood. If she saw his rough scrawl she would probably laugh.

My dear Arthur,

I have gone out hunting. Not a phrase I thought any pen of mine would ever ink but nonetheless one I am very proud to finally be able to write. I am so very grateful to you for all the help and encouragement you've given me. You met me at one of my lowest points and showed me the way back to the person I really am. It pains me greatly to see your pain.

There is some money in the box on the nightstand. Please take it, I have more than I need back in the city and I'd like you to have it. Perhaps you can do some good with it or can use it to help yourself in some way.

Please take care and remain true to the man I know you are.

Yours fondly

Charlotte

He finds his thumb tracing the words ‘Yours fondly’ and quickly shakes his head. Damn fool that he is. He rereads the letter. Then looks up at the box. Should he take the money? Even if he did not use it himself, he could use it to help others.

He opens the lid and gazes down at the crisp bills inside the box. There looks to be about a hundred dollars in there. Arthur sighs and closes the lid. He’s got plenty of money and he’s trying to get rid of it by helping people. What does he need more money for now? What can he do with it when his time is rapidly running out? Better to leave it to Charlotte, so she may buy a horse or chickens or new boots, than to leave it to a man whose every step leads him closer to death.

Arthur grabs his hat from the bedside table and then reaches down to his satchel that has been left learning against the small cupboard. He pulls the bag open and takes out his journal, then slips Charlotte’s letter inside to keep it safe.

He looks around the room. There’s a chest of drawers with children’s books scattered over the surface and a pot containing some bird feathers. He walks over and picks up a leather-bound copy of fairy tales. Did these belong to Charlotte or did she hope to have a child who would sit in the small bed and read those stories under the comforting light of the gas lamp?

He looks back to the bed envisioning Charlotte resting against the bed frame, a girl cuddled next to her with dark hair and blue eyes shining with delight as Charlotte reads to her. Would she have looked up to find him in the doorway and grinned more wildly, leaping up from the bed with a shout of ‘Pa!’?

He clenches his hands into fists and pulls himself away from the thought. It’s not helpful to think that way, it’s not wise to think that way. Dreams of what could be or what might be have never helped him. Dutch’s dreams have spiralled into a hellish nightmare and even though Arthur spends most of his time encouraging everyone to leave as soon as they can, he is going to be trapped. There will only be one way out for Arthur Morgan.

#arthur morgan x charlotte balfour #arthur x charlotte #arlotte #arthur morgan #charlotte balfour #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #rdr2 #rdr #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead redemption fanfic #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan fanfiction

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tigerdrop · 3 years

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here is a bunch of words about this venom AU b/c i am out of my fucking mind

like ok sorry im about to talk about a venom AU again b/c jesus christ its just frenrey man. the sad, pathetic, cringy sweaty little man with depression and his new best friend, the way-too-powerful alien thing thats always on his back and is always pushing to do things that arent socially acceptable......its the same shit. whatever. am i thinking about that prodromal phase when gordons sweating and heaving and ravenous and trying to eat everything in sight and being jerked around by an alien leaning how to puppet his body? Yes

eating is horny, man. the vore thing is just completing the circuit and closing the loop. his entire fucking physiologys going haywire and his metabolisms in overdrive and eating is always a metaphor for something and i dont know why it shouldnt be a metaphor for being mysteriously, suddenly horny, either. and also its just really hot to see somebody going apeshit on food. Whatever

the dudes who made hannibal get it. food is erotic. food is always about something else

and pulling him around like a puppet especially. LITERALLY leaning how to move gordon around the way he wants to!!! its gotta be just as awkward for the symbiote to learn how to move in a human body as it is for the human to learn how to move in sync with the symbiote. the struggle.........is . its good

hes literally just. a puppet for the symbiote. hes a puppet that can make the symbiotes job a lot easier by playing along and figuring out how to move in sync , but like. hes just getting jerked around effortlessly for the whole fucking movie

and gordons strong enough that he can put up a good fight......but hes not stronger than a fucking alien thats in control of his very muscles and nervous system! lucky for him that he got saddled with a parasite thats developed a real quick fondness for the body that it inhabits or else hed just find himself sharing the same fate as all the other bodies that got colonized and dropped by the wayside

(sigh) and benrey would wanna stick around him b/c hes fun. he reacts good. hes fun to play with. hes easy to bully and cajole into doing what benrey wants, within reason. and unlike mr marvel-mouthpiece-eddie-brock, gordon freeman would fucking delight in getting to chomp on a cop or two. he would relish the opportunity

and like. uhh. that part where venom pins eddie to the wall. Wow

i think it would be. really cool. if uuuhhh if umm uhhh well. like. the symbiote is super strong right. so its basically like having a. uhh. living full body bondage suit that really, really wants to fuck you

if benrey doesnt want him to move then buddy, hes not moving. gordon freeman pinned firmly in place by an amorphous slime monster with sharp, sharp teeth and a lolling tongue that knows, in the most intimate and excruciating detail, just how badly he likes it

literally theres no way gordons not thinking back on so much of this shit later and having the weirdest fucking dreams of his life. i dont even know if he would initially be aware that a lot of this stuff is hitting him in the dick. it feels like a kind of sleeper agent thing

like yeah sure he probably knew he was into bondage. thats not all that weird. but i think it would take a little mental prodding to get him to be like "Oh. benrey did that. to me. and he could probably do it again. if i asked. but im not gonna fucking ask for that"

therein lies the crux of his problem: the symbiote knows literally everything about him. they share the same body and have touched each others minds. benrey Knows

he literally cannot hide a single fucking thing. its plain as day. the only thing stopping benrey from doing anything about it is the fact that gordon wont fucking ask, and more to the point, seems vehemently opposed to the idea of ever acting on it......until suddenly, he isnt

and also its probably really fucking fun to tease him about it. its not like gordons gotta always be consciously aware of the fact that benrey knows Literally Everything About Him. teasing him by cracking jokes about eating him?? weird coincidence, right. ha ha. benrey makes an offhand comment about basically eating him every time they transform and gordon has a psychosexual breakdown bc all his blood leaves his brain

I might be insane

but also i have the very vivid idea of benrey pinning gordon to the wall like that again with the full knowledge that gordons getting off on it, and taunting him to struggle harder b/c its more fun that way. whys he just acting all limp like a ragdoll, huh. (because thats what you normally do when youre being put in bondage! or at least, thats what gordon does! hes not used to the idea of something wanting him to try and struggle b/c its fun to playfight with him, even if its very much just a play fight b/c benreys so much stronger!!!)

look i jsut think his gradual transformation from "normal guy with latent psychosexual issues who is rightly weirded out by killing and blood and things of thast nature" to "problems guy who gets hot in the face when he sees all those teeth and watches benrey chomp on dudes and gets a little hard whenever hes enveloped by his alien bodymate-cum-best friend" is. awesome

the mental journey from "what the fuck is happening this is the most terrifying thing that could ever happen to me. what if i die in here" to "wow this is still anxiety-inducing but im so fucking strong and i can do crazy superhero shit. this is awesome" to "oh no the anxiety is back to an 11 b/c ive started having weird thoughts about it and now im thinking about baseball really hard to try not to get hard"

jesus christ man. gordon stops jerking off entirely b/c he doesnt want the fucking symbiote to see his boner and ask any weird questions but benrey doesnt even care. he just thinks gordons insane for taking so many cold showers. daily fucking slapfighting over the shower knob

he has so much wrong with him but benrey doesnt even CARE. gordon is the only one that cares nearly that much about his weird boner problems and doesnt want benrey to see his dick b/c “what if its weird. what if i make this weird.” meanwhile benrey has been aware of every time gordon has gotten a half chub from benrey transforming. benrey doesnt even think gordons trying to hide it hes doing that bad of a job

gordon doesnt even WANT to have to explain what a stiffy is to this guy!!! he thinks that b/c benreys some kind of alien thing, he wouldnt even know. he wouldnt be familiar with the human boner. but gordon assumes hes gonna have to if he ever pops one so he does everything in his power to neglect his stupid dick. meanwhile benrey absolutely knows how dicks work b/c he was socialized entirely on ps3 multiplayer until he met gordon and you would not believe how much intimate knowledge of the human penis hes acquired by this

(sigh) i think that when gordon realizes he has a weird sentient alien parasite inside of him he would get weird about literally every embarrassing bodily function/necessary display of nudity . and i think he would be bladder shy in front of a brand new audience

i just think. that. he would be freaking out about an alien seeing his dick. and immediately after seeing that benrey is Real and Inside Him for the first time, he would try very, very hard to hold it in so the alien thing doesnt see his dick. progressively antsier.....squirming.......Pacing......gordon gets an alien parasite and decides he can never pee again. ignoring the blatant fact that benrey is little man in his bloodstream and already knows all about his dick

im envisioning this happening shortly before he learns that benrey is In His Head . and also that hes in some pretty serious denial about it a lot of the time

but just b/c gordons ignoring it and pretending like everythings normal (and like HES normal) doesnt mean that either of those things are true. benrey knows exactly whats going through his head. theyre Bonded. and benrey knows that hes a little freak whos got boner problems about this subject specifically. i mean its not like hed even have to read gordons mind to figure that one out, yknow? he canonically cannot fucking stop himself from joking about piss, joking about how much hes been holding it, etc etc. and yknow........benreys just a weird little alien goop with a poor grasp on human social mores. his understanding is that pleasure is something that feels good, so theres no reason why they shouldnt feel good. eating people makes him feel good. being jerked around and controlled makes gordon feel good. whats the problem

and if hes in total control of gordons body......well, maybe the bladder-shyness isnt as bad a problem as gordon thinks. benrey can just control his muscles, yknow? help him out. so he quits freaking the fuck out like a little bitch about how gross and weird this is. (its really not that weird to benrey, okay.) the weirder thing is how neurotic gordons being about the whole thing. and so uhhhh thats how gordon ends up with his skin flushing so badly it makes him dizzy when benrey is just like “okay uh this is stupid can you just deal with it” and puppets him over to the bathroom and makes him. just. do it

also like okay. ping-ponging to another thing here. i have been thinking about the first time gordon actually tries to jerk off after acquiring an Audience

its gotta come up at some point. theres no way it doesnt. having a case of blue balls for that fucking long is probably turning him into the worlds most neurotic little bitch and at some point benrey just asks him point blank "hey. do you ever jerk off" because.....like......he feels what gordon feels for gods sake. hes aware of all the boners gordons been getting and not doing anything about. and "not talking about it" was his way of being polite but now gordons being a nasty deranged little cunt of a man from Dick Too Hard and its getting annoying. and gordons just like "what!!! of course i do, but you, you know what, thats none of your business! im not about to pound my meat with an audience!"

benrey doesnt really get it. gordons horny, he just copped to jerking off on occasion, whats the problem? theyre bros, its cool. he can just, like, play minecraft and not look. gordon thinks this is the stupidest thing hes ever heard. but like......he does miss jacking off. hes a red blooded adult male and its a little harder to pick up girls when he has a flesh eating alien with very poor boundaries sharing his body. so he decides, well, fuck it. hes just negotiating space with a roommate. in a way. its fine. its not that weird

but it is that weird, actually. gordon tries it but he has a really hard time getting it up with the knowledge that hes doing it right next to somebody who isnt even paying attention. it makes him feel like one of those weirdos who jerks off on the bus. benrey notices that hes, like, stopped, and has just kind of tucked his dick back in his underwear and given up. and after some confused discussion and bickering, benreys like, "you uhh......you want a hand?" and that kickstarts gordons heartrate right back up

what im saying, is that, benrey should subsume gordons right hand. envelop it in his own. take control of it. and jerk him off for the first time while panting in his ear and licking his neck and dirty talking the hell out of him. and gordons never came so hard or so fast in his life

and like. this would 100% open the freak floodgates. gordon was trying very hard not to think about it before but now the door is wide open and he cant not think about all the insane things benrey could do to him. WITH him

like. okay. gordon really is just all the way in there . things ive never fully considered before. venoms literally about vore

benrey meat prison. going superhero mode means your cock is grinding on slime the whole fucking time. gordon can be having a minor anxiety meltdown as hes subsumed by slime and can feel benrey going hog wild. bc hes in there......its a bonding thing . and also a vore thing. and a "he cant hide literally any of his reactions so the moment he pops a boner in there benrey is going to know about it" thing

like the logistics are vague but its implied they can see out each others eyes and have a sense of each others bodies. so when benreys fully out gordon can see out his eyes and it kinda feels like the big body is his too, theyre in sync. but i like to think. he can also feel his own body distinctly. he can feel benreys body pressing in around him. he can feel the muscles crush him in place as they move. i think that would be . cool

and like. okay. the thing i dont really care for when it comes to vore is the, like, Everything After. what i think is really cool, and awesome, is the. uh. the mouth stuff. big tongue and teeth and being totally enveloped in something wet and hot and whatever. okay. but i dont actually want the guy to get swallowed okay i think he should just nut and then get spit back out. im not about the internal workings here thats where my boner turns off and i fail to suspend my disbelief

but like. the great thing with venom is that. you dont have to worry about any of that . gordon can just be......totally subsumed by him. that massive alien maw opening wide and licking him all over and enveloping him from the bottom up, nothing but wet-hot pressure wrapping around him . . . sucking at every inch of him and undulating in a way he literally never could have fathomed before. the things that gordon thought about in the back of his mind whenever benrey transformed with him. the things he was convinced benrey wouldnt know about if he thought hard enough about literally anything else while they were out doing their vigilante thing. and then he can nut so hard he goes blind and get spit right back out and full-body cuddled by his symbiote buddy

i think its neat to think about the possible feedback loop from their mental link. like. look i dont know how exactly a symbiote nuts and at this point im too afraid to ask. but like. they dont have naturally occurring dicks. so it seems to me, that the best way to get benrey to nut, here, is for him to get gordon to nut also. the feedback loops

theyre basically one guy, right. gordon-and-benrey. benrey-and-gordon. hes experiencing the world through gordon, feeling what he does, seeing what he sees. benrey having a harder time maintaining a coherent form the more he drives gordon to the edge......hes in gordons head! hes feeling what he feels! and gordons in benreys head, too, seeing himself from the outside......realizing he looks like a total fucked out whore like this and its humiliating and excruciating but all benreys seeing is his person coming apart and theres nothing but extremely positive vibes going on in his head and it makes gordon feel, like.......really hot, actually. hes got that mental image of himself as the pathetic schlubby guy that we all know he kind of is but also hes schlubby in an insanely fuckable way, and benrey knows this. he Knows this

that possessive little throb in the back of his mind b/c benreys looking at him and subsuming his lower half and wrapping around his dick and pushing into him him and all thats on his mind is how this is his person, all his, hes gonna show gordon that he doesnt need other girls anymore. they cant do what he does, because gordon is his and, more to the point, hes gordons

and hes right . literally how is he going to go back to pussy after that. its a metaphor for being gay but also they are literally gay and have insane crazy sex about it. its like symbolic or whatever

anyway i think when benreys fucking him senseless with all those tentacles or whatever gordon should accidentally say “were gonna come” when hes about to nut. b/c its a “we” thing. benreys a symbiote who can only come when gordon does, through their mental link. ok. Bye

#writin stuff #that was . more than i expected it to be. dont look at me

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yikesharringrove · 3 years

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Show Pony

Chapter 2: Legends Never Die

Read on Ao3

Billy was watching porn when Steve texted.

He’s never clicked out of a video so fucking fast in his life.

The message just read hey, this is steve :) which like, of course, the fucker uses little emoticons. Of course , he types out little smiley faces. It’s so dumb. It’s so cute.

And Billy just stared at it. One hand still on his dick, the other hovering over the keyboard.

What the fuck does he reply?

Obviously, Steve knows it’s Billy. Like. Duh.

So he just tapped out a little Hey.

Steve texted back almost immediately.

you have a good day? Billy found himself grinning maniacally, so he rolled over to hold his pillow close to his chest, burying his chin into it. He didn’t wanna deal with the fact that this stupid adorable cowboy was making him smile and flush. Stupid.

Yeah, it was nice. Way too hot, but nice.

lol try wearing jeans in that heat. sweatin through my damn saddle. Billy laughed into his pillow.

Jesus, you’re such a fuckin hick. Billy bit his tongue when he pressed send.

And Steve just sent back >:(. And God. He’s so cute. Billy. Hates him.

And then Billy’s phone buzzed twice, another brand new text from Steve.

One that made Billy’s heart fucking stop.

i have the day off tomorrow. no tiedown on the schedule. you should come by and we could hang

Which sounded like. A date. It sounded like a fucking date. And Billy wanted to ask. If Steve’s invitation was for a goddamn date.

But like, he can’t just ask. Can he? Is that weird? Okay, maybe he’ll just-

Should I bring Max?

Right? Like if Steve says to bring his little sister, then there’s no way it’s a date. Because, who would want their date to bring their little sister? People who are just hanging out as friends, that’s who.

was hoping it'd just be you and me

And hoo boy. Hoo boy. That’s. That’s a fucking. That’s a date.

Then yeah. Just you and me.

And Steve sent him another little :) because the fucker loves his emoticon smiley faces. They’re not even, like, actual emojis. Steve doesn’t take the time to use fucking apostrophes, but he does type out little faces.

And maybe Billy’s spending too much time thinking about the smiley little shits.

But, like. It’s just. It’s Steve. And it’s a cute fucking thing that Steve does.

Billy’s pretty much obsessed with him by now.

And maybe Billy should ask for, like, a time to meet. But he was halfway through a video and his cock’s still hard and kinda starting to ache, pressed against the mattress where it was. He rolled over, slid his hand back into his shorts, and wrapped his fingers around the base of himself.

So it’s easy just to, slide it up. Run his fingers along his length. Pretend his rough hand is Steve’s rough hand. Pretend the tight vice grip is Steve’s mouth. Hot and slick around him.

He could picture Steve, on his knees in the dirt, those tight fucking jeans beginning to stain at the knees, those big pretty eyes looking at him so reverently, so softly.

And he came all over his hand, pictured those pink pretty lips covered with cum. Imagined scooping it on his fingers, pressing them into Steve’s mouth, making him lick them clean.

It wasn’t even the most depraved fantasy Billy’s ever had. But it was for sure in his top five best orgasms. No doubt about it.

He wiped his hand on the sheets, turning onto his side, staring at the short little conversation with Steve.

Thinking about their fucking date tomorrow.

Max was on his ass the second he woke up.

She cornered him as he was coming out of the bathroom, making him startle and nearly smack her.

“The fuck you doing out here, Shitbrid?”

“What are we doing today?”

“ We aren’t doing shit all. I will be heading out. Soon.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, jutting her jaw in a way he absolutely knows she learned from him.

“Are you going to the rodeo?” she hissed through her teeth at him. “Are you going to see-”

“That’s none ‘a your fuckin’ business.” He pushed past her, lumbering down the hall, almost making it into his bedroom before she slipped inside with him, slapping his elbow and kicking the door closed.

“Are you going on a date ?”

Billy glared at her. He clenched his jaw, speaking through gritted teeth.

“Pretty sure we agreed not to fucking talk about this shit here.”

She pursed her lips, shifting her jaw.

“Just nod or shake your head.”

Billy kept his head very still.

She kicked him once in the shin before stomping out of his room, nearly slamming the door, catching it at the last minute, and closing it quietly.

Neil didn’t approve of doors slamming in his house.

It was rule number. Three probably. First rule was don’t be a smartass. Second rule was don’t be Billy. That was kind of an unspoken rule. But it was there.

And Billy was faced with his newest dilemma.

What does he wear?

Because it’s gonna be another hot fucking day, and his typical date outfits have more, more.

He’s got one clean pair of cut-offs left. Okay. Yes. And he puts on a printed button-up shirt. Leaves it almost all the way unbuttoned, because, like, of course, he does. He’s got a good body. He wants Steve to see it.

He’ll be mostly cool, and he looks better than he did last time he saw Steve.

Black Converse complete the look, and he maybe spends more time than he usually would putting his hair into a ponytail, using one of Max’s bright scrunchies.

She’ll get pissed if she notices it but. Whatever. He steals them from her all the fucking time.

He hasn’t looked at his phone all morning, figured he could head over to the rodeo, and whenever Steve texted, he’d play it cool and act like he wasn’t already there.

But, cowboy hick Steve was obviously an early riser. As the most recent text Billy has is from that cowboy hick Steve. At six. In the morning.

you wanna meet up around ten?

It was currently just past nine.

Does Billy head up there now and wander around the grounds for a bit?

Yes. Yes, he does. Because frankly, he looks gay as fuck in this outfit and he should probably dip before his dad sees.

He sends Steve a thumbs up and the three dots show up almost immediately, showing Steve typing.

you got a car right? can you pick me up outside of the parking lot? i gotta get outta here

And Fuck. Billy knows that feeling.

No problem. You wanna get breakfast? I know a good diner if you’re into that kinda thing.

hell yeah im into that :)

Ah, yes. There was that little happy face just in time to give Billy lots of nice heart palpitations.

Great. That’s what he needs. To get sappy and gross over Steve’s emoticons. Again.

He slipped out of his house without interference, taking a lap around the block just to kill time before setting off to the fairgrounds.

He was trying to make his car look presentable, shoving the few gum wrappers Max left by the gear shift into his pocket, brushing off any stray cigarette ash with one of the baby wipes in the glove box.

And by the time he reached the fairgrounds, he saw Steve skulking along the front of the parking lot, hopping over cracks in the sidewalk like the cutest little bunny.

It was the most adorable thing in the fucking world.

Billy pulled up next to him, blaring the horn and watching Steve startle at the sound.

He was wearing cut-off denim shorts like Billy’s, and a goddamn crop top. It had the silhouette of a horse on its hind legs, its mane flowing in the wind behind it, and Harrington American Rodeo brandished across his chest. It was cut just at his waistline, where his body nipped in right above his hips.

Steve smiled his pretty smile at Billy, just about skipping around the front of the car to slide into the passenger seat.

And Billy tried not to think about how fucking good Steve looked in the passenger seat of his car, those long fucking legs all on display, his thighs, thick and pale, covered in dark hair.

“Hi,” Steve was leaning with one elbow on the center console, putting himself in Billy’s space, and Billy was thankful for his dark aviator sunglasses, as his eyes went wide and probably panicked with Steve moving in so close.

Because if Steve was leaning in to kiss him, that kinda feels like a lot. And Billy’s not a prude, not by any means but he's, he’s got lines, and rules, and-

Steve just knocked his head into Billy’s shoulder, leaning back to buckle his seatbelt, like headbutting Billy’s shoulder was casual and normal.

And fuck.

Billy’s in so deep for this guy he barely fucking knows.

All he could do was push the car forward, and will away the flush on his cheeks. And pretend like he hadn’t jerked off to the person sitting next to him less than twelve hours ago.

“So. Billy. Tell me about yourself.” Steve shifted in his seat, turning to look right at Billy. “All I know is that you’ve got a kid sister, a cool car, and that you’re really hot.”

Billy smirked, turning to look at Steve over his glasses, found Steve biting his bottom lip demurely.

“Well, there’s not much else to know .”

“Oh, come on. Where are you from? How old are you? Shit, probably shoulda asked that sooner. Please, tell me you’re not fifteen or something.”

“I’m literally driving, right now. And relax, Pretty Boy. I’m eighteen next month.”

“Okay. Okay, good. I’m eighteen, by the way. Just so you know, that I’m not fifteen.” Billy shook his head, rolling his eyes with a smile. “But I still want answers to the other questions.”

“Well, I’m from here. Born and raised in San Diego. Uh, I graduated high school in May. And I work at the diner I’m about to take you to, which might be the lamest shit in the world, but they have good pancakes.”

“I like pancakes.” Steve was fiddling with some of the knobs in the car, turning the air conditioner up and down. Billy was just resisting slapping his hand away.

And then he reached for the volume knob on the radio, turning up the Ratt Billy had playing, and audibly scoffed.

“God, I should’ve known you liked this .”

“Yeah? What about it?”

“Just, you know. Sex charged drug-fueled hair metal.”

“Oh my God. What in the fuck ?” He gave Steve as incredulous a look as he could muster. “Are you a housewife from the fifties?”

Steve gave one of his excellent bright laughs at Billy, and Billy’s gut got a little bit gay and a little bit fluttery.

“Alright, Stevie. I’ll bite. What kinda music are you into? And if you say country I’m blowing my fuckin’ brains out.”

“Well, unfortunate then because, yeah. Fuckin’ country, man. Although, I prefer folk.”

“See, you call my music sex-charged and drug-fueled, at least I’m not listening to posers rant about their tractors.”

“Oh, no. I hate that shit as much as you do. I mean like, Johnny Cash. Willie Nelson, you know? Emmylou Harris, Marty Robbins, Miss Dolly. The good stuff. There’s like, a few modern artists that are doing the same kinda thing that I like. It’s all just stories and good music.”

“That’s all my music is. Stories set to music. And, you say my shit is drug-fueled, you do know that Willie Nelson is famous for being a stoner? And that Johnny Cash publicly dealt with addiction and all that?”

“Well, yeah, but they’ve got class.”

“Okay, Cowboy. I’ll let you die on that fuckin’ hill while I party it up on mine to some eighties metal.”

And Steve reached out to shove Billy lightly, laughing while he did it.

“Agree to fucking disagree then. Just take me to pancakes and don’t try to reason with me about shitty music.”

“Then change the subject. Tell me other things about you besides your terrible music taste.”

Steve leaned back in his seat, blowing out a puff of air.

“Uh, I mean. Jeez. I don’t do much besides the rodeo, you know? Just movin’ all over the country.”

“That must be. Exhausting.”

Steve reached out to brush his fingers against the dashboard mindlessly.

“It’s not so bad. I try to make friends in the towns, you know? Makes it kinda fun.”

“Where were you born?”

“Indiana. Really small town. My mom and I stayed there for three years while my father traveled around. I’ve been on the road since.”

“Holy shit. Since you were three? Did you, like, go to school?”

“No. Uh, I actually have a tutor that’s on the road with us, and I’m. You know. Supposed to get my high school diploma soon. I’m behind schedule since,” he waved his hand flippantly. He was staring at his lap, playing with the frayed hem of his shorts. And Billy was grasping for another subject as Steve’s cheeks went red. Because obviously school, had struck a nerve.

“What kinda horse is June?”

“She’s an American quarter horse. That’s the usual type for most rodeo events. They’re good ranch horses because they’re a little more compact. I’ve been with June for five years now, and she’s a beast. I’ve got two others with me, on rotation so that none of them get too tired doing the shows over and over. June, Patsy, and Loretta. They’re all quarter horses, and each one is only about fourteen and a half hands tall. I like my horses a bit smaller for tie-down.”

“I understood, honestly, like, nothing of what you just said.”

Steve tossed his head back, laughing loudly over the radio at Billy’s confusion.

He laughed a lot.

Billy liked it.

“Don’t worry, I’ll teach you rodeo slang. You’ll be a natural,” Steve said, reaching out to where Billy’s right hand was resting on the gearshift, wrapping his finger’s around Billy’s wrist.

“What about their names?”

“All ladies of country. Loretta Lynn, Patsy Cline, and June Carter. Carter-Cash, I guess. She married Johnny but had a career in her own right.”

“Jesus, you’re a fuckin’ hick.”

“You’ve said that before. Just because I’m in the rodeo-”

“No, it’s because you’re in the rodeo, and listen to country music, and wear fucking cowboy boots -”

“They are literally made for riding horses, okay? That’s why they were invented .”

Billy rolled his eyes again, but he was smiling brightly as he pulled into the diner parking lot.

It wasn’t too busy for a Sunday morning. Billy bets it’ll pick up in an hour or so for the brunch crowd.

He began working at the diner three years ago, bussing tables and washing dishes, getting paid under the table because technically, he was too young to work. He was a server now, usually taking the evening dinner shifts to miss that time when his dad was home from work.

The bell jingled above their heads as Billy held the door open for Steve, and Billy stuck his tongue out at the kitchen staff, leaning over the counter to swipe a few menus from the stack.

He led Steve to a booth in the back corner, waving at Lorraine, the older woman who was working their section, gesturing to the booth for Steve to take a seat.

“Wow. You’ve totally got this place on lock.”

Billy grinned at him, leaning against the wall to stretch his legs up on the booth next to him.

“I’ve worked here a few years. Kinda done all the staff positions. It’s a nice place.”

“Well, then what do you recommend?” Steve carefully opened the laminated menu, his big eyes flicking over the pictures on the side of every dish.

“Pancakes are good, so are the waffles though, if you’re into that. I like the full breakfast. Eggs, bacon or sausage, hash browns, pancakes, or toast. Kinda the best of everything.”

Steve snapped his menu shut, smiling softly at Billy.

“I’m trusting you with my breakfast here. It better be good .”

Lorraine approached their table, already pouring Billy a cup of coffee and sliding it to him along the table.

“You really love us that much you find your way in here on your day off?”

“Only you, Lorraine. Everybody else can fuck off for all I care.”

She shook her head, rolling her eyes at Billy.

“You want the usual cook-up?”

“Yes, please.”

She took his unopened menu, turning and smiling brightly at Steve.

“What can I get for you, Darling.”

Steve’s eyes were wide when he looked up at her, his cheeks starting to flush.

“Uh, just, the same as Billy, please.”

“You want a coffee?”

“No, Ma’am. Just a water for me please.” He handed his menu back, giving her a bright smile, his cheeks a soft rosy red.

Lorraine winked at Billy, nodding her head once in Steve’s general direction. Billy waved her off before she could say something embarrassing.

“Sorry, I get kinda weird sometimes.” Steve had pulled a napkin out of the dispenser on their table and was looking down at it, tearing off little chunks and rolling them into balls.

“That’s okay. Lorraine gets it. Plus, you were polite, and that’s all that matters. I wouldn’t be caught dead with you if you were an ass to servers.”

“Oh, God. My dad is such an ass when it comes to, really any staff. Like, servers, or, frankly, most of the people that work for him. Don’t even get me started on the animal carers. I mean, that’s probably the most important job at the whole rodeo, and he’s been trying to dock pay left, right, and fucking center.” Steve rolled his big eyes, huffing like Max.

“Wait, so your dad is like, the head of the whole operation?”

“My name is Steve Harrington,” and Steve pointed at his shirt, the name Harrington emblazoned over the horse.

“Oh damn. I thought that name was familiar when I saw the shirt. Figured I had just seen the rodeo name or something.”

“Nope. That’s me. A whole Harrington. My great-grandpa started the rodeo. He was, like, an actual ranch hand. Started one in the town we’re from. My grandpa was the one who got the idea to take it on the road. My dad came up through it like I did. He was in steer roping. And basically, his end goal is that I start running the whole show in a few years. Take over for him.”

“And, you don’t want to?”

“Nah. I don’t really have a brain for business. Don’t have a brain for much other than riding and tie-down, honestly. Don’t know the first thing about how to run a traveling rodeo.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

Steve smiled at him, but his eyes seemed sad, and his smile was tight.

“You got plans for next year? College or anything?”

“Nah. I think college is, on the horizon, but I’m taking a gap year. Saving up to move out and pay for school and everything. Probably gonna go to community college to save some money. And then maybe grad school?”

“That’s smart, you know? Finding ways to save up. My dad is debating pushing college on me. Like, if I do run the business, there’s some shit I should know going into it, right? But I think he also sees that I’m way too dumb for college, and, like, I don’t need a degree to get hired. I’ll just,” Steve made an upwards sweeping gesture with his right hand. A gesture that Billy understood to vaguely mean nepotism.

“What would you rather do? If not run the thing.”

“I like tie-down, and I could feasibly do it for a long time. I could branch into other events, too, like steer roping and all that. Same idea as calf roping but a different animal. Literally. It’s a steer. But I’d be content just doing the events until I croak. I have absolutely no desire to rise through the ranks, or whatever.” Steve rolled his eyes, balling up the little napkin wads he had made into another napkin from the dispenser. Billy appreciated it. He’s had to clean up crap like that from this very floor. “I just love being around the rodeo. The animals and all the people. I don’t really wanna be anywhere else.”

“At least you have something you love. Like, you’d be happy to do that for the rest of your life, and not in an I’ve got nothing better to do way, but in an, I’m passionate about this way. A lot of people don’t really. Get that.” Billy included.

It’s not that he doesn’t have passions, it’s just that they’re not necessarily sustainable to him.

He knows he’s dangling by a thread with his father. Knows after his eighteenth birthday, he should be ready to be kicked out or asked to pay rent at any time. He needs a career that’ll get him some fucking money if he wants to get out and cut off his dad entirely. He can’t be forced to go crawling back to him because he wanted to self-publish his gay ass poetry that never took off or drum in a rock band that went nowhere.

To name a few.

“Yeah, I mean. Sometimes I think that I probably would’ve never set foot in a rodeo if I wasn’t literally born into one, so I kinda wonder who I’d be if this wasn’t everything I knew, but I still really love doing it, and it’s something that I’m actually good at, which speaks volumes.”

They were interrupted by Lorraine returning, placing two identical plates in front of them, a glass of water for Steve, and pulling hot sauce and ketchup out of her apron pocket.

“You two let me know if you need anything else.”

Steve beamed at her, thanking her softly and Billy’s heart fluttered like a stupid idiot.

They tucked in, Steve shoving food into his mouth until his cheeks were bulging, chewing aggressively. It made Billy laugh and nearly spew coffee all over the table.

“I figured you’d have better manners, being the heir to a rodeo dynasty or whatever.”

Steve pulled a face, showing Billy the chewed-up food in his mouth.

“How’s that for manners?”

It was actually fucking funny watching him try to swallow everything stuffed in his mouth.

“It’s borderline painful watching you eat.”

Billy laughed as Steve flicked a piece of scrambled egg at him. It landed on his shoulder. Billy slurped it right off his shirt.

“See! Now, who's the one with no table manners?”

“Still you, Sugar. Still you.”

Breakfast was, like, actually fun.

Not that Billy was expecting it to be shitty, but he wasn’t expecting it to be as carefree, as easy, as it was. He and Steve just, kinda, clicked.

Steve was easy to talk to. He was easy to listen to, easy to laugh with, and even easier to look at.

He’s kinda, everything Billy has ever wanted in a person.

He slid his hand into Billy’s as they were leaving the diner, smiling shyly at Billy when he looked over at him.

And Billy stopped in his tracks, right there in broad daylight, tugging Steve by his hand closer to Billy’s body, sliding his hands up his arms, feeling over Steve’s shoulders, and down his back to settle on his hips. Steve wrapped both arms around Billy’s shoulders, leaning closer to him, almost pressing his whole body against Billy’s.

And it was easy. Kissing Steve was just as easy as talking to him, as laughing with him, as looking at him. It was simple and nice and made Billy feel something he really didn’t want to put too much thought into.

Something that was decidedly not easy.

They pulled away from one another, both their lips red and slick.

Billy opened the passenger door, and Steve folded himself into the seat with a ridiculous amount of grace.

And as Billy drove them aimlessly through the city, he tried not to think of the expiration date on this whole thing, on the dates listed on the back of Steve’s t-shirt.

They’ve got a little under a month together.

And Billy was determined to make that the best goddamn month of both of their natural lives.

#yikes writes #show pony #rodeo au #lemons #i got hit with a fat wall of Sad and decided to post ch 2 to see if i get a lil serotonin from the response #we will SEE #harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove

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