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thishintoflove · 3 years

Text

“I Think He Knows” - A Kingsman Fanfic

TSwift Songfic Week Day 5

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x M!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Explicit (Pining, dirty talk, hand jobs, oral sex)

A/N: I feel like there’s a lack of M/M in the Pedro cinematic universe fandom, so here’s some bisexual Whiskey having a good time with a fellow male agent.

Summary: You and Agent Whiskey are paired together for an out-of-state mission. On your last night, your pining and his flirting finally come to a head.

I think he knows his hands around

A cold glass

Make me wanna know that body

Like it's mine

The mission was long but you were finally finished with it. Three weeks in Dallas were more than enough for you, and you were looking forward to getting home to your own bed and your own office in Kentucky. You were aching for the privacy it offered, after spending almost a month sharing a hotel room with your fellow agent. This time you’d been paired up with Agent Whiskey, and because of that you were glad the trip was almost over.

It’s not because Agent Whiskey- Jack - was incapable. Quite the opposite. He was extremely efficient and good at his job but he was also… extremely attractive. Which was a huge distraction.

You took pride in being a capable agent but Jack and his pretty face compromised that. You’ve never been in a situation like this before. Lusting over your coworker felt extremely unprofessional, but it was impossible to ignore him. He was an in-your-face kind of guy, always butting in with a comment or joke, always using his body as a weapon. He’d lounge around your shared hotel room in nothing but a thin towel, his wet hair draped across his forehead, and you swear he did it on purpose. The man knew how attractive he was and he obviously loved flaunting it.

He was tall and tan, with soft brown hair, a pair of beautiful round eyes that seemed to sparkle with amusement, and a smile that made your knees weak. The downside was that his smile made just about everyone weak. You were living in your own personal hell. Every single day having to watch Jack be attractive without even trying, and then watch as everyone in his vicinity tried to flirt with him. Tonight he was wearing a black leather jacket and extremely tight jeans, looking more like a movie star than an undercover agent. The man could pull off anything. It’s actually unfair.

You were out at some dive bar, celebrating the end to a successful mission before flying home tomorrow. It was Jack’s idea of course, but you’d agreed because you needed a stiff drink after these three long weeks and honestly you couldn’t say no to him.

“Another round, kid?”

You glanced up and saw him staring at you, a twinkle in his bright eyes. His hand gripped his empty whiskey glass and you eyed your own half-full drink. You couldn’t throw it back like him.

“I’m good for now,” you answered.

He nodded and slapped you on the shoulder as he stood up, “I’ll get you another one anyway. You better finish that by the time I get back.”

You sighed as you watched him walk away. His ass looked fantastic in those jeans. All the training and harsh exercise routines that Champ put the team through really worked for him. No wonder he could get any pretty thing he wanted.

Speaking of which, he seemed to have turned his affections on someone else. You groaned, your eyes never wavering from where Jack stood. He was currently making small talk with the pretty brunette bartender. He was giving her the full Whiskey treatment- gazing at her with those soft, mocha-colored puppy dog eyes and giving her a charming half-grin. Watching him flirt was simultaneously entertaining and torturous. He threw his head back, laughing at some dumb joke the bartender must have said, and you almost growled out loud as you hungrily stared at his neck.

Stupid horny bastard.

He got that boyish look that I like in a man

I am an architect, I'm drawing up the plans

It's like I'm seventeen, nobody understands

No one understands

You were getting really sick of hiding your partial hard-ons and jacking off in the cold shower, but everything the man did was hot. The deep voice and accent alone were enough to get you going on most days. God, you hadn’t felt like this since high school.

If Jack noticed you staring or caught on to the fact that you took extra long showers, he didn’t say anything. You were openly out at the agency and your sexuality wasn’t a secret. When you first joined the Statesmen, you felt you had something to prove at work, as if you had to demonstrate your masculinity by keeping up with the largest members of the team. But you’ve excelled in your role for years now and you were beyond proving yourself at this point. You were just glad that Agent Whiskey wasn’t one of the people who cared that you liked men.

In fact, he treated you just like he treated everyone-- this meant he wasn’t shy about flirting and teasing you. Sometimes it seemed like he was coming onto you, but you had to remind yourself that he was like that with everyone-- you weren’t special and there was no way he was actually interested.

Before falling asleep each night, you’d listen to Jack’s soft snores and run scenarios through your head of every possible way that you could share your feelings. You thought about all of the things you could say, and all of the ways Jack could react. It was agonizing but your analytical mind couldn’t stop. You wished you had the courage to just ask him out. The worst that could happen is he’d say ‘no’ and maybe request to never work with you again, but then at least you’d be free of him.

Wanna see what's under that attitude

Like, I want you, bless my soul

And I ain't gotta tell him

I think he knows

A loud laugh suddenly interrupted your thoughts and you looked over to the bar again. The bartender was giggling and grasping at Jack’s arm. The sight made your stomach turn, and you made a quick decision to get out of there before you had to watch them start making out over the bar.

You stepped up next to Jack and finally drew his attention away from the girl.

“Hey, hold off on my drink. I’m gonna head out,” you told him.

“What? Come on now, it’s so early!”

“Yeah. I just don’t really feel like hanging out anymore. I’ll see you back there.”

Before Jack could respond, you threw down some cash on the bar and turned away. You were already across the floor and on your way out the door when a hand on your arm stopped you.

“Hey. Are you pissed at me or something?”

“No,” you muttered, trying to ignore the shot of arousal you felt when he grabbed you, “I just don’t feel like sitting in the corner, watching you flirt with some chick.”

You tried to turn away from him, but Jack let out a quiet “ohhh” of understanding. His grip on your arm tightened.

“We’ve been on this mission for weeks now, and on our last night you finally decide to say something?” Jack laughed, turning you around so you were facing him again. He invaded your personal space, ducking his head and trailing his nose along your neck and jaw.

“What?” you asked, confused because he couldn’t possibly mean...

“You're so slow, that’s what,” Jack mumbled, his lips tracing along your neck. It felt amazing, but... was Jack- your fellow agent and known womanizer- really nuzzling your neck right now?

“I'm confused, are you really into this?” you asked again, trying to hold back a moan. Jack pulled away and looked at you with huge eyes.

“God, you’re an idiot. I've been sending you obvious signs, makin’ eyes at you and showing off what I got, and now I'm literally biting your neck, and you're still asking?” Jack said incredulously. You searched his face and saw eyes that were filled with desperation and lust.

“I just assumed…”

“I like it both ways, kid. Is that clear enough for you?”

He then took one step forward and kissed you fully on the lips. There was only a moment of shock before you melted into the kiss, pressing your bodies closer and running your hands over Jack’s shoulders and back. All of your worries disappeared then. You didn't feel the terrible anxiety that constantly filled you with dread. Your mind stopped frantically thinking about every possible worst case scenario. Everything stopped. There was only Jack.

“Oh ohhhh right. Yeah I’m an idiot,” you quietly mumbled against his lips, “Want to go back to the hotel?”

“Fuckin’ finally,” he replied with a grin.

Lyrical smile, indigo eyes, hand on my thigh

We can follow the sparks, I'll drive

So where we gonna go?

I whisper in the dark

You weren’t sure how you made it back to the hotel so quickly, but as soon as you tumbled through the door, Jack had you pinned to the bed underneath him. His hands roamed all over your torso, and he pulled the shirt over your head and tossed it aside before quickly doing the same to his own. The room was filled with your little whimpers every time Jack ground his hips against yours. You stared up at him, his lips swollen and red bitten and eyes blown with lust, and you were positive that you looked just as debauched. He looked just as beautiful hovering over you as you’d always imagined, and you wanted to feel him everywhere.

“More,” you whined, canting your hips up into Jack’s.

He groaned and trailed his hands down your chest, his fingers brushing against your nipples, causing a moan to slip from your mouth. He continued his journey down until he reached the fly of your jeans.

“Lift up,” Jack mumbled, leaning in to kiss your neck as he tried to tug your pants down. You obeyed and soon your pants and your boxers were off, leaving you completely exposed.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he moaned, his fingers barely brushing over your erection, “You’re even prettier than I thought, darlin’.”

You groaned, pushing your body closer to Jack’s. As his hand slowly learned the feel of your cock, your own hands wandered all over his body. From his strong shoulders to his muscular back, to his waist, his hips, his thick thighs. You slipped one hand into his jeans to grab his ass, finally getting the chance to touch the part of Jack’s body you’d fantasized about the most. You could feel his clothed erection rubbing against your thigh as Jack continued steadily stroking your cock.

“Jack,” you whimpered, gazing into his dark, lust-filled eyes. You were barely able to control your thoughts properly since Jack’s pace was getting quicker and way too distracting. He grinned down at you.

“This good, baby? You want it a little rougher?” he asked, a groan slipping from his lips as you squeezed his ass in response.

Jack pushed forward and kissed you harder this time, moving his hand faster along your cock. Then he kissed his way down your neck, sucking and nipping all your sensitive spots. Suddenly he bit down hard on the skin between your neck and shoulder, following it up with a long lick with his wide tongue. That show of possessiveness was enough to push you right to the edge. You cried out as pleasure tore through you, coming in ropes all over Jack’s large hand. You gasped for breath, your chest rising and falling as your head lolled against the pillows.

Jack hovered over you, continuing to kiss your neck and upper chest as you came down from your high. “I’ve been told I’m good with my hands, can I get a confirmation on that, darlin'?“ he asked with a cocky grin.

Your eyes blinked open and you smirked at him. “You’ve got the confirmation all over your hand.”

“Ooooh, so he’s mouthy all of a sudden. Guess I just had to get you in bed to see the sassy side of you, huh?” Jack tutted.

“I’ll show you mouthy,” you muttered, blushing at the stupid euphemism even as you trailed a line of kisses down Jack’s sternum and belly.

When you reached the top of his jeans, you surprised your fellow agent by flipping him over and yanking his pants down in one fluid motion. Jack growled at the switch, but when you took his cock into your mouth, he gasped and surged forward. You enjoyed the desperate moan he made as you swallowed him completely, his hips bucking into your mouth. But you wanted to take your time with this. You grasped his hip bone with one hand and held him down, before pulling off his cock and moving to lightly lick his balls. Jack was making beautiful, desperate noises and you loved the idea that this strong, confident agent was falling apart because of you. You smiled against him and swiped your tongue along the bottom of his shaft before taking him fully into your mouth again.

“Holy hell, you’re fuckin’ amazing,“ Jack groaned as you bobbed up and down on his cock, “I’m so close-”

You sucked harder and reached your other hand down to fondle his balls again as Jack thrust into your mouth. Soon he was arching forward and shouting your name. You let him come in your mouth, swallowing his seed down like it was another shot at the bar.

When you looked up at Jack from between his legs, you grinned. He had his head tilted back, one hand thrown across his mouth as he stared at the ceiling, breathing heavily. When he felt your eyes on him, he looked down at you with a satisfied smile.

“Damn, that was…”

“Amazing,” you cut him off, “Even better than I imagined.”

“So you imagined it, huh?”

Unable to control the urge any longer, you leaned forward and pulled Jack into a sweet, affectionate kiss. You ran your fingers through his soft hair and you could feel him grinning the whole time. When you finally pulled back, he was still smiling but he also looked a bit confused.

“Why haven’t we done this sooner?” he asked.

“I was convinced you were straight. I’ve been a fucking mess trying to decide if I should say something or not,” you replied.

Jack hummed and reached for you, but you chuckled and pulled away.

“You need a shower,” you said, “Then we can talk some more.”

“Only if you join me, sugar...”

I want you, bless my soul

I ain't gotta tell him

I think he knows

#agent whiskey #jack daniels #kingsman golden circle #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x male reader #pedro pascal x male reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #my fanfic #fanfiction tag

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babbushka · 3 years

Note

Mrs Z! Thank you for doing a Flip special!

What about throwing Flip a big surprise party with lots of people and he’s not happy about it. You make it up to him by letting him have his way with you before you cut the cake. Maybe he’s too into and gets carried away with being loud and noisy or gets caught somehow and that’s his birthday party, is his guests cheering his bedroom antics or roasting him.

2.6k; humor & NSFW (blowjobs/face fucking, hair pulling, come swallowing)

“I don’t remember you forgetting anything here.” Flip frowns, as he pulls the Chevy into his usual parking spot at the CSPD.

It’s his birthday, and he hadn’t taken the day off of work to avoid drawing any suspicion, so he’s a little irritated that when he gets all the fuckin’ way back home to you, finishes having the delicious dinner you cook for him, and he’s just about to ask if you want to engage in a little birthday love-makin’, that you groan and announce that it’s urgent he take you back to the station.

He already gets sour enough on his birthday as it is, but he had hoped that he could enjoy a quiet -- or maybe not so quiet -- evening in bed with his wife, just the two of you tucked up against one another to distract him from the passing of time.

“It was my Pyrex, I left it in the breakroom, it should be in the sink unless someone moved it.” You’re too determined to get the damn thing back, and Flip loves you, so Flip drove you in his truck that he parks, eyeing his work.

“And you want me to go in and get it?” He complains, deep voice too gravely for it to be a true whine, “Can’t I wait in the car?”

“You’re going to abandon your most beloved wife in her hour of need?” Your eyes are wide and clear and he hates how he gets lost in them, how he meant it when he said he’d do anything for you. He hates how you know it.

“That’s not fair.” Jabbing a finger in your direction, you only lean forward enough to cup his cheeks in your hands, sweetly pressing chaste kisses to his lips, your lashes brushing against his cheek as you draw him in with the smell of your perfume.

“Please?” Your voice is breathy in the way that makes Flip go weak in the knees, and even though he knows he’s being manipulated, he’s not mad about it.

“Fuck, alright fine.” He gives in, making you brighten up immediately as he turns the car off so the engine doesn’t idle, being sure to keep the windows cracked even though Colorado in May is a balmy sixty-five degrees. “You just, I don’t know, sit here and keep being pretty.”

“Yes sir.” You wink, and Flip isn’t so sure he likes the twinkle that he sees in your eye.

Walking through the CSPD lobby, he notices it’s quiet.

Too quiet.

No one is calling in emergencies, no one is typing away at their desks, no one is chatting by the water fountain. Something must be very very wrong, and Flip halfway wonders if there was some kind of national announcement, if Ford was making a speech somewhere.

His suspicion only grows, when he turns the corner to the break room, and opens the door frowning to himself and muttering, “Why are all the fuckin’ lights turned off?”

When he flicks the light switch, he’s so startled that he takes a step backwards, as seemingly the entire station jumps up to shout in his face a big loud, “Surprise!!”

“What the fuck -- ”

“Happy birthday Zimmerman!” All his friends and co-workers are there, the guys from the narcotics division, the folks down at homicide, all the higher ups, secretaries, rookies and seasoned pros alike.

Everyone gathered in this room that is way too small for them, organized by someone to give him a goddamn heart attack. A hand gently rubs at his back, and Flip whirls around to see you there.

“Is this your way of saying you want a divorce?” He jokes dryly, making the entire room chuckle, because really only Flip would have this sort of reaction.

“For the record this was not my idea.” You say, not wanting him to think the blood is on your hands, “Ron insisted. I tried to tell him.”

Ron steps forward then and hands Flip a card, one that he’s not going to open now because he’s sure he’d die from the embarrassment of floundering with the envelope in front of all these people, but he does bring Ron in for a hug.

“It’s signed by all of us here.” Ron gestures with one of those big handsome smiles of his, the kind that shows off all his teeth, and Flip doesn’t have the heart to be angry about all this attention to his face.

“Thank you.” He says instead, feeling so fucking out of his depth, completely out of his element, palms sweating as he reaches for you with a quiet pleading, “Ketsl?”

“I’m right here.” You whisper as you take his hand, grounding him in the present.

Everyone is looking at him, and it reminds him of when he had to give presentations in school. He doesn’t know what to say, the tips of his ears going crimson red.

“You guys didn’t have to do all this.” Flip pulls you tight against his side, his arm stretching across your shoulders. Maybe if he just holds you close enough, he can use you as a human shield for conversation, he thinks.

“We had no idea it was your birthday! No one ever can figure it out -- but don’t worry, we’ve put it in your file so we know for next year!” One of the older secretaries, Ms. Rosie, cheerfully pipes up, making dread creep up Flip’s spine.

He looks down at you, and you give him a sheepish smile. He wants to complain like the grouch that he was, but then his attention shifts to the big table of food and drinks that is spread out on the table against the wall of the break room.

“...Is that chocolate cake?” He tries not to sound too hopeful, and the break room laughs again, because even the strongest most stoic man truly can be lured in by cake.

“I made it for you special. We’ll do candles after everyone’s had a bite to eat!” You announce to the room, patting Flip’s back as the crowd begins to murmur excitedly amongst themselves, a queue forming for the hot fresh pizza. You lean up to whisper in Flip’s ear, “If you can play nice, I’ll give you one of your presents before we get to cut the cake.”

Raising his eyebrows at you, he blinks a little. The surprises just kept comin’, didn’t they?

“Can’t I get it now?” Flip tries, but you only chuckle and shake your head.

“Go say hello to everyone, and then meet me in the back of the file room.” Patting his back once again, you slip away, an incentive for him to get this over with as soon as possible.

Flip doesn’t think he’s ever shaken so many goddamn hands, or kissed so many cheeks in his life. On the one hand, it felt nice somewhere deep down inside, to know that so many of his co-workers decided to take part of this party. He felt valued and appreciated, even if he would have rathered this never happen in the first place, would have rathered to be in bed with you right now...which brings him to the other hand; he’s achingly hard in his fucking jeans, thinking about what’s waiting for him in the file room.

He doesn’t have to wait much longer though, because soon the last person has been spoken to and thanked, and he’s excusing himself to go to the “bathroom,” heading in the complete opposite direction of the bathroom.

“Ketsl, honey?” Flip prompts softly, looking around for you in the low light of the room, “You back here?”

“Took you long enough.” Your voice sounds from around the corner, and like a glass of cool water on a hot day, there you are, arms reaching out for him.

“Would’ve been sooner if you hadn’t invited so many fuckin’ people.” Flip lets himself be wrapped up in your embrace, his palms smoothing around your sides to caress your back, one of them dropping down to give your ass a firm squeeze.

“Ron did, not me. Like I said, he insisted.” You remind him, kissing your husband deeply, licking into his mouth, voice soft and breathy, “Let me make it up to you?”

The hair on the back of Flip’s neck stands up when you sink down to your knees, not breaking eye contact. He holds his breath, his cock twitching at the implications of that motion, pulse already starting to pound a little harder.

You rest your cheek against his strong thigh, popping open the button on his jeans, sliding the zipper down tantalizingly slow, making a real show of it. Flip hums, pets at your hair, smooths his palm against your cheek as he watches your eyelids grow heavy. You nuzzle against the palm there, suckling on his fingers just a little bit, teasingly, playfully.

“Oh fuck yes.” He quirks a little smile at you.

When you finally pull his dick out, you’re licking your lips, wetting them, drooling over yourself. He’s just as affected, pre-come already leaking out of the tip of his cock, and he groans when you swipe it up with your tongue. Time is of the essence here, and as much as you would like to drag this out, you can’t, so you cut right to the chase.

“Shit -- your moth’s so hot.” He grunts as your mouth opens wide wide wide for him, tongue flattening as you suck the head of his cock between your lips, careful of your teeth.

One of your hands braces yourself on his thigh, while the other holds the base of his cock, keeps him steady. Flip has a tendency to buck and choke you when he’s too wound up just like he is now, so the grip holds him in place as you swallow him down inch by inch.

Fuck, your husband’s dick is big! It’s not just long but thick too, the girth of it always something that has your jaw aching. You open your mouth wider to take him, relaxing your throat so that he can slip deeper and deeper, breathing through your nose. Never once looking away from him, you can see how antsy, how impatient Flip is getting, and if you could smile, you would.

But you can’t, because your mouth is filled to the absolute brim, so you tap the side of his thigh to signal that he can start moving.

“Yes!” He says maybe a little too loudly, “That’s it, oh fuck that’s it.”

And oh, does he fucking move. The second you’ve given him permission, he’s gripping your hair and thrusting hard. Moans and grunts pour out of his chest as he holds your head in both of his hands, keeps you snug against his groin. Your nose is nestled in his dark thatch of hair, and you can’t deny the way the musky smell gets you flustered, gets you wet. He’s not going to have time to fuck you properly here, but that’s okay -- this was only the preview of the evening to come.

“God you feel so fuckin’ good, my good girl, fuck -- ” Breathing hard and fast, Flip fucks your face hard, keeping you steady so that you don’t accidentally take him down at a wrong angle and splutter and cough.

Relaxing for him, you let yourself be used, the salty sweaty taste of his cock running over your tongue, plunging down your throat soothing and familiar in a fucked up way that only over a decade of marriage can bring.

“Fuck!” He snarls when your tongue wriggles against the veins that throb along his shaft, sucking down hard everything that you can, one of your hands moving to cup and roll his balls, “Oh baby that’s it, just like that, keep doin’ that, oh god your tight fuckin’ throat feels good.”

Tears start to prick at the corners of your eyes when it becomes so much that your jaw aches, and you squirm, wanting to be touched, wanting to be fucked even though you know you can’t have it yet. Right now is about him, about the pleasure he gets from the way you suck him down, and then you’re swallowing hard, and the friction has him cursing loud loud loud, coming down your throat.

“Damn, ketsl!” he pushes his cock all the way down your throat one last time, before pulling away to watch his come shoot all over your tongue, your lips, your chin. Painting your face with it, he grunts, pulling your hair to angle your face up some more, a better view. You stick your tongue out for him, and another pulse of come bursts out of his cock from the sight, his filthy fucking whore of a wife, love of his life, on your knees like his own personal pornstar.

You fucking look like one anyway, and you sure as shit sound like one with the way you’re moaning and breathing hard, nipples so hard that he can see the way your blouse peaks out from over them.

Wiping away the come on your face and licking it off your fingers, swallowing every drop of evidence that you can, you and Flip grin at one another, his orgasm having him in a much more pleasant mood.

“We should get back out there, huh.” He gives you a hand and hoists you off your knees, pulls you close and kisses the taste of his come off your lips.

“People are gonna wonder where you went.” You smile, giving him your lovey-dovey eyes, glad that he’s enjoyed at least one part of this surprise. “You can’t disappear at your own party. How do I look?”

“Too beautiful for your own good.” Pinching your nose and giving you face a little shake, the two of you leave the records room behind.

“Well well well, if it ain’t the lovebirds!” Sergeant Trapp announces the second that you and Flip walk back into the main lobby of the station where everyone has spread out with their food and drinks.

“You two really can’t go two seconds without goin’ at it like rabbits, can you?” Ron laughs, teasing in a way that has Flip’s scowl coming back after all your hard work.

“Mrs. Z I gotta admit I’m impressed you’re still standin’, that sounded like quite the time.” Jimmy winks at you, and you slap a hand to your face. You hadn’t even thought about the noise that you must’ve made -- all the shelves moving, the grunts and groans, the cursing.

“Watch your mouth Jim, or I’ll be forced to do something about it.” Flip warns, but there’s something warm in the threat, playful. You’re fuckin’ glad for that, the last thing you needed on Flip’s birthday was him getting fired for beating the shit out of his friend.

“Oh yeah like what? I’m surprised you’ve got the energy for threats, old man.” Jimmy only eggs him on, all eyes on the two of them.

“That’s it -- ” Flip lunges immediately, making you rush forward and grab him by the scruff of his neck, preventing a wrestling match, even if a friendly one.

“Boys please, have some cake and maybe you’ll calm down.” You roll your eyes.

“You know,” Flip says later, when you lead him through to the breakroom where someone’s lit a fuckton of candles in an attempt to guess how old he is, and you’re curled up on the couch next to him as he licks the frosting off of his fork, “I’m starting to think there never was any Pyrex.”

And it’s all that you can do to just kiss him and shut him up, letting him get away with being an idiot because he’s your birthday boy.

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

Tagging some Flip friends! @mochabucky @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @thembohux @kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow @babayagakeanu @safarigirlsp @steeevienicks @materialisthicc @hswritingrecs @han68000 @rosi3ba3z @chapterhappygirl @loverofallthings @groovetoob @bxnnywriting @glassbxttless @angel-bxby3 @smallgirlbigpersonality @lovelyyy-luna @2000andwhat @raddo1975 @cornmousequeen @metsienmenninkainen @caillea @painttheskylineforme @holding-on-to-starwars

#flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman/reader #adam driver fanfic #adcu #blackkklansman #flip zimmerman imagine #flip zimmerman smut

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ficsnthings · 3 years

Text

Sweet Love┃Ash (Supernatural) x Reader

Summary: Alternate first meeting between the Winchester brothers and Ash, featuring the Reader, Ash’s plus size wife.

Rated: Mature - sexual references/situations

Read on AO3

Please consider buying me a coffee

y/h/l = your hair length

y/h/c = your hair colour

y/e/c = your eye colour

“We could really use all the help we can get.”, Sam said.

“Well, we can’t.” Ellen told them, “But Ash will.”

“Who’s Ash?”, Sam asked.

“Ash!”, Ellen hollered.

The man who had been asleep on top of the pool table when the brothers had entered the bar abruptly awoke, briefly thrashing in disorientation.

“What?”, The recently awoken man called back, “Closing time?”

Sam looked to Jo in disbelief, “That’s Ash?”

“Mhm.” She replied, “He’s a genius.”

Just then a woman emerged through the swinging kitchen doors. She was beautiful with (y/h/l), (y/h/c) hair, (y/e/c) eyes, and a full figure that boasted of wide, voluptuous hips. Her thick thighs were wrapped snugly in dark, high-waisted denim paired with a cropped black tank, and a plaid long sleeved shirt draped around her waist.

And she was carrying a full plate piled high with sausage, bacon, eggs, toast and hashbrowns.

Dean had never been in love, but he thought this might be what it felt like.

Ash smiled when he caught sight of the beautiful creature gliding across the floor towards him, “Is that my gorgeous wife, my Goddess of Sunshine, bringing me breakfast?”

Dean was pretty sure that his brain straight up short circuited when he heard the dishevelled man before him refer to this absolutely indescribable creature as his ‘wife'.

You giggled at your husband's antics, a light blush rising to your cheeks and a cute little skip invading your step as you closed the remaining space between yourself and your mullet-rocking love. You paid no mind to the Harvelles and the Winchesters, too caught up in the warmth of Ash's smile, the little spark in his eyes. Life around hunters was short, and since you knew these guys weren't a threat you weren't going to waste time worrying about them when you could be spending these precious moments with the man of your dreams.

As soon as you were within range, Ash’s hands automatically reached out to grasp at your alluringly wide hips, using them to pull you toward him, thumbs rubbing gentle circles into soft, pliable flesh. His legs spread at the knees where they dangled over the edge of the pool table he was sitting on to accommodate your form stepping between them.

You set the breakfast plate down beside him on the table, one arm reaching up to wrap around the back of his neck, fingers delicately gliding through the long hair at his nape. You plucked a piece of sausage from the large plate you had made and held it up in front of him. Feeding each other was just one of the many public displays of affection that the two of you frequently engaged in with a disgusting lack of shame. He quickly took the hint and parted his lips, taking the bite into his mouth and groaning as the flavor hit his tongue.

He swallowed the morsel, then leaned forward to press dozens of playful, nipping kisses into the crook of your neck, causing your giggling to recommence as he cooed, “You’re far too good to me, My Love. Don’t know how I got so lucky to end up with someone so wonderful as you.”

Dean was honestly wondering about that as well.

Seriously, the dude had a freaking mullet and looked like he belonged on the road with Lynyrd Skynyrd. He was scrawny, of average height and had a mullet. It was strange (but also kind of awesome) enough to warrant mentioning twice. Dean had no idea how a guy like that could end up with someone like you. He couldn't decide whether he should be jealous or declare the other man his hero.

Ellen, while used to the cloying PDA that the two of you shared as a couple, had clearly decided that was enough of that and said dryly, “Alright lovebirds, if you could pry yourselves away from one another for a few minutes, these boys need some help from you, Ash.”

* * * *

“Sorry, I guess I haven't introduced myself, yet.” You apologized, holding out your arm towards the Winchester brothers for a handshake as you took your rightful perch upon Ash's lap. “I’m (Y/N),” you informed them. “Married to the genius.”

Sam accepted your proffered hand and formally introduced himself in turn, where as Dean scoffed as he dropped a folder to land with a smack! onto the bar top, “You gotta be kidding, this guys no genius. He’s a Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie.”

His dismissive tone immediately made you bristle. You hated when jerks would come in here looking for Ash's help only to then completely dismiss and underestimate his intelligence based solely upon his appearance. It pissed you off every time, though it amused Ash to no end.

As if to prove this, Ash smiled, eyes narrowing on Dean in a look of assessment, “I like you.”

“Thanks,” Dean muttered, no further convinced that this dude was anywhere near the ‘genius’ Ellen and Jo claimed he was.

You, less than impressed with Dean's attitude, snorted, “You know, Asshole, Ash is the one meant to be helping you, not the other way around. Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to judge a book by its cover? Just because the genius comes wrapped in this sexy, mullet rocker package doesn’t negate his intelligence. And again, you asked for his help, so a little respect would go a long way.”

The reprimand left Dean's mouth agape, his expression becoming thoroughly dumbfounded upon hearing you utter the words ‘sexy, mullet rocker package’ with such conviction and clear lack of humor. If he'd thought his mind had short circuited earlier after hearing Ash call you his wife, at this point Dean would be surprised if his brain hadn't begun leaking out of his ears.

It was all proving to be a little too much for Sam, who had to turn his face away in a desperate attempt to try and cover up his uncontrollable laughter, both in response to his brother's expression as well as the absolute seriousness with which you referred to your husband's sex appeal.

While the majority of the time you were Ash's sweet girl, his Goddess of Sunshine, that didn’t mean that you were weak, or that you couldn’t or wouldn't stand up and stand your ground when challenged. You were actually quite protective over those you loved and wouldn’t hesitate to defend them in any way you deemed necessary. Though this was a very mild example of this trait, the point still stood; His girl wouldn’t stand for anyone disrespecting the man she loved, especially on their own territory. It was something that always filled him with warmth and pride to witness, and just another of the many things he absolutely adored about his wife.

Ash’s arms squeezed your waist in a comforting gesture, hands lightly skimming up and down your sides soothingly. “It’s okay, Baby Girl, the man hasn’t seen my work before. The skepticism, while a bit irritating, is expected.”

Dean shrugged, sitting himself down on a bar stool, “Well, alright then. This stuff’s a year’s worth of our Dad’s work.”, he placed one of his palms atop the folder, smirking as he slid it toward Ash, “So, uh, let’s see what you make of it.”

Ash opened the folder and pulled out the contents. His chin rested comfortably in the junction between your shoulder and neck, eyes quickly scanning over the pages as he leafed through the documents. He shook his head, confounded, before pulling his gaze back to focus on the Winchesters.

“C’mon, this crap ain’t real. Ain’t nobody can track a demon like this.”, Ash said, not quite believing what he was looking at.

The brothers shared a knowing look, before Sam turned back towards Ash and simply said, “Our Dad could.”

Ash’s eyebrows rose a bit before furrowing slightly, his hands returning to leaf through the papers in front of him with renewed interest, “These are non parametric statistical overviews. Cross-spectrum correlations. Jeez, I mean… damn. They’re signs, omens. If you can track them, you can track the demon. You know, like crop failures, electrical storms.”, He glanced up and said, “You ever been struck by lightning? It ain’t fun.”

His voice was practically a growl by the end of his monologue and you couldn't help the way heat began to pool between your legs, core clenching around nothing. You shifted a bit in his lap, just barely grinding against his thigh before settling again. Ash was still focused on the information before him, though his head did turn slightly to press a brief kiss to your neck while one of his hands absentmindedly drifted down your body to rest on your inner thigh, causing your breath to hitch in your throat.

“Can you track it or not?”, Sam asked impatiently.

Ash cleared his throat, “Yeah, with this, I think so. But it’s gonna take time. Uh, gimme…”, he paused, taking a moment to calculate, “51 hours.”, he decided, eyes meeting Sam and Dean’s head on.

Sam and Dean shared another communicative look while you carefully gathered the papers and slipped them back into their folder. Once all were back in order you rose from Ash’s lap to allow him to stand as well, his arm immediately returning to once again wrap around your waist after taking to his feet. Meeting seemingly adjourned, the two of you began striding towards the back room that you called home.

“Hey, man,”, Dean sounded from the bar, causing Ash and yourself to pause and turn back towards the elder Winchester, “By the way, I, uh, dig the haircut.”

Ash practically puffed out his chest with pride as he hammed, “All business up front, party in the back!”, you can’t help but giggle as he flourishes the long ends of his hair dramatically.

As the two of you turned to continue on your path towards your room, Ash leaned down, lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he practically growled, “Don’t worry, Baby Girl, I haven’t forgotten about you. Gonna spend at least 23 of those 51 hours makin' you come apart underneath o' me.”

A shiver ran up your body, shots of arousal pooling low in your core at the implication. Ash really was the sexiest mullet rocker/genius, and you were so proud to get to call him your husband.

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theoverly · 3 years

Text

Her choice

Pairing: Johnny & female V

Rating: T for swearing

Dreams are a reflection of our subconscious, and nightmares are our subconscious way to deal with trauma, as Johnny learnt the hard way early on in his life

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Catch me traumatizing myself with my own headcannon

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On ao3; https://archiveofourown.org/works/30339804

Or press “Keep reading”

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”I… I can’t believe it… everythin’. A-all we did… pointless.” V glitches away, leaving Johnny alone at the glitchy diner-booth for a moment before he follows the path of her code, already as familiar to him as her mind. She’s sitting in the vast empty space of the net, knees pulled up towards her chest and arms resting atop them, staring out into nothing with an empty look in her eyes. “I’m sick of this…” she growls just as he materializes, pulling a chair out of cyberspace to straddle, arms resting on the backrest. Even without access to her mind he can feel the rage building up in her. “Of everythin’.” She continues as she glares up at him from under her brows. “You most of all.”

He ignores what feels like a stab or a glitch in his code, and instead levels her with a stern gaze. “Perfect, ‘cause we’re stickin’ to the plan. You’re goin’ back to your body, and I’m goin’ with Alt.”

“Where she even gonna take you?” she bites out.

He glances off to the side, to a beam of bright light that appears to be both extremely far away and dangerously close at the same time. “Beyond the Blackwall, to become part of her-“ he looks back, glancing at the glitchy outline of V’s boots. “Whatever the hell that means.” He finishes, voice trailing of a little at the end.

“… What’s it like, beyond the Blackwall?” he looks up at the slight tremor in her voice, finding an air of anxiousness about her, making him huff.

“Assumin’ I don’t loose my fuckin’ mind-least no one’s gonna ride my ass there.” She chuckles, a little, face softening. “Can’t read you mind anymore, V.” he reminds her, wondering what’s so funny.

“Didn’t seemed to mind having you ass ridden – on occasion.” Her mouth curls into a toothy half grin, her signature look of mischief.

He blinks at her for a moment before realizing what she’s hinting at. “Dirt girl…” he huffs, shaking his head in amusement. “Gone pokin’ ‘round in my memories for the juicy stuff, huh?”

She chuckles briefly, shaking her head and looking down at her hands as she begins to wring them together, a display of anxiousness he’s never seen her partake in before. “… you go beyond the Blackwall, you ain’t comin’ back…” she mumbles, voice hoarse. “What about hanging around as a construct?” she glances up at him. “Just… till we find another way?”

“Know you ain’t that naïve.” Johnny shakes his head, looking away from her. “Findin’ another way means makin’ a deal with ‘saka. I’ll pass.”

There’s a stretch of silence only interrupted by the hum and buzz of cyberspace, neither of them jumping in to fill the void for a long while until- “I don’t wanna die, Johnny…” V whispers, making him look back at her, finding her eyes staring down into nothing with a hopeless expression. He furrows his brows in concern, wondering what thought are racing through her mind as she tries to come up with a plan for how to tackle her current predicament. “Never thought life was worth clingin’ to. Not at any price, anyway…” Her eyes focus and she looks up and to the side, to the beam of light, eying it in a mournful way that has Johnny’s code buzzing in alarm.

“’cause it ain’t.” he huffs.

“Wrong.” She shakes her head a little. “That light beyond the Blackwall-“ she nods her head towards it, inviting him to look at it, though his gaze is pinned on her. “-that’s hope.” He shakes his head as he prepares to jump in and interrupt, but she continues. “Could be the flames of Hell or Heaven’s grace -who cares?”

Cyberspace buzzes and both constructs look to the side where Alt’s form glitches into being. “We’ve learned to turn into pure data-” She begins, voice soft and booming at the same time, echoing through cyberspace. “-but an animal still prowls inside us, and its instinct to survive almost can’t be extinguished.”

Johnny narrows his eyes at the AI. “Yeah, that instinct’s part of bein’ human – but so is denyin’ it.” He looks back to the nomad. “V, you’re talkin’ crazy – there’s nothin’ for you beyond the Blackwall.” He stresses sternly.

“‘least it’s not the big fat nothing I’m goin’ to in six months’ time anyway…” she murmurs before looking away from Alt and pinning him with a stare. “I am going to die, Johnny.” Each syllable of every word of that sentence is thoroughly pronounced, the difference is startling compared to her usual drawl; It’s not a guess or a fear anymore – it’s a statement of fact... Don’t mean he can’t open his mouth to argue- “Save your breath-“ she shakes her head and looks away from him. “-really think I alone could find some way to save my life in the following six month’s when we haven’t already?”

“You won’t be alone.” He reminds her. “You’ve got some great chooms backing you, V.”

She ignores him, instead looking up at Alt. “What now?”

“As I said; You can return to the body, where you will perish within six months. Alternatively, Johnny can retain the body, remain there, whilst you come with me beyond the Blackwall.”

“Guess it was naïve of me to think there’d be a happier ending for all involved…” she chokes out, voice thick with grief.

“Wrong city, wrong people…” Johnny agrees mournfully.

Alt’s body splits into copies, showing up along a path leading towards the beam of light. “This path leads deeper into cyberspace. Take it, and permanently sever the connection to the body to go beyond the Blackwall.” More copies, this time leading in the opposite direction and towards what appears to be a well of some sort. “The path to the body passes through the mortal well. Whichever of you goes through it will retain the body.”

V’s eyes linger on the well, and Johnny feels a wave of relief washing over him that she’s considering going back. “What I told you at the Pistis Sophia-” the relief drains from him and is replaced by dread as she speaks. “-we stick to that. I’ll go with Alt. You stay in our body.” She rises to her feet slowly, not even sparing him a glance.

It pisses him off…

“Turning your back on your problems, again?” he grits out, glitching off the chair when she turns towards the beam, grabbing her arm to stop her and yank her back. “What? Just gonna roll over and decomish? Give up?” he growls at her.

“It’s my decision, Johnny.” She yanks her arm away from his grip, clutching her hands into tight fists and bracing for a fight. “This bullet is comin’ my way, I just need to make sure it don’t take you down with me.”

“You’re loyal, I’ll grant you that. But damnit are you dense! Haven’t changed a bit since we met.”

Her construct shakes, edges glitching as she seems so be winding up, and he fully expects her to start throwing punches. Instead –

“I’m so damn tired, Johnny…” she breathes, eyes fluttering closed, face scrunching up in despair as she fully deflates. “I just want this all to end…” she sobs, making him deflate too.

“I know, princess…” His voice comes out soft, the nickname he’s been using to tease her now an honest term of endearment. “But let’s not make any rash decisions, ok?” He grabs her forearm again, just below the Johnny + V tattoo, and softly pulls at her, signaling for her to follow him as he turns around towards the well. He pulls his hand back, but hers shoots out to grab his in a weak grip. Given that it’s his chrome hand and they are both two constructs in cyberspace with no physical form, he really shouldn’t be able to feel the soft warmth of her hand, but he does. He squeezes her hand lightly and holds it as he leads her to the well, sitting her down on the edge before taking a step back from her, her weak grip allowing him to slip his hand free. Her face is an open book now that she’s admitted to her exhaustion and allowed it to set in, looking at him mournfully.

“I don’t want to die alone again…” she admits quietly.

“You won’t.” He insists. “Really think Vic’s gonna just sit back for six months and let you die? Fuck – tell Kerry what’s happening, he’ll throw a fortune Rouge’s way so she can-“

“You know I don’t trust Rogue.” V interrupts coldly, shaking her head weakly.

“Then go to the Aldecaldos;” he insists, voice rising as he begins to go on a rant. “you know better than anyone that a Nomad clan large as that is bound to know someone who knows someone who can help, and you’ll have six months to dig ‘em out. Or fuck – call Judy. Girl’s smart, maybe she and Vic can figure somethin’ out if they work together for six months? Or maybe that PI of yours can sniff out a lead better than he can a fuckin’ clitoris!”

V breathes out a small chuckle, shaking her head in amusement. “River did fine, you’re just mad I made you fuck a cop.” She protests, smiling softly at him for a moment before patting the edge of the well beside her. “Sit with me?” she asks quietly. Johnny’s wound up tight, and he almost snaps at her, but the small hint of a hopeful smile tugging at her lips deflates him, so he ambles his way to sit down next to her, leaning forward to rest his forearms against his legs, glancing up towards the beam of light beyond the Blackwall, where he’ll go after they’ve said their goodbye. “I still want you to have my body…” she admits quietly, and he shakes his head briskly.

“Stop already.” He snaps. “You’re a fighter, V… It’s as that doll back at Clouds said; You’ve never backed down from anythin’ in your life, so don’t go backin’ down from the fight for your life.” He sits back up a little so he can look at her, her eyes starting to gain some focus, hanging on to every word he says. “You’re stubborn as all hell. You see a wall blocking your path, you’ll either find some way ‘round it or bash that thick head of yours against it until you bring it down.” He reaches out and knocks on her forehead, making her huff out a sound of amusement and swat his hand away softly. “You’ll find a way to cheat death again, and when you do; Gonna take Night City by storm. Ain’t nothin’ gonna stand in your way.”

She shakes her head a little, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she looks at him with such open adoration it’s startling. “… Goodbye, Johnny.” her voice is hoarse again, filled with unshed tears that he doesn’t deserve.

“Goodbye, V... And never stop fighting.” He moves to stand up and help her into the well, but before he can she glitches away to stand before him, forcing him to look up at her in alarm. Her face, set in burning determination, is the last thing he sees as he feels her hands on his shoulders pushing hard until he tumbles backwards, over the edge of the well and into a freefall.

Nightmares are nothing new to Johnny, he’s had them since his gonk ass enlisted as a child soldier and went to fight in Mexico, but it’s been a long time since he’s had a nightmare so vivid it causes a physical reaction.

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He wakes with a start, throwing the cover off his body – drenched in cold sweat – as he shoots up from the bed and stumbles out of it, catching himself on the floor with a grunt of pain before franticly pulling himself back up and stumbling out of the bedroom and into the bathroom, throwing himself at the toilet as he dry heaves a couple of times before emptying the contents of his stomach into the bowl in several drawn out heaves that leaves his entire body trembling. His fingers weakly curls against the cold ceramic as he hurls and hurls until there’s nothing left for his body to expel, and then he dry heaves a couple of more times, tears and snot running down his face once he manages to gulp down large breaths of air, the occasional sob or groan of pain interrupting his efforts to try and catch his breath.

He wipes his face with his arm, leaving a disgusting mess of tears, snot, and vomit as he slowly rises, looking down at the tattoo on said arm as he drags his feet along the cold floor and to the sink, hands shooting out to grab the edge of it before he looks up at his reflection. Gasping sharply, he pulls his fist back, a primal roar of rage and loss rips from his chest as he punches the mirror, shattering V’s reflection.

#cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand #v (cyberpunk 2077)#valerie valentine #silverv #hurt/comfort #hurt no comfort #a bit of both #wrong city wrong people #cyberpunk 2077 fic

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ask-the-riders · 3 years

Text

Not Unlovable

In this, you get to see a bit of Famine's past - part of his childhood, then part of his adulthood before he died and became a rider. Unfortunately, the boy's haunted by ghosts of his past mistakes, however, and it's up to Retribution to provide him the comfort he needs

Because of the contents of this, I'm gonna offer a bit of a trigger warning for implied character death, as well as the actual depiction of character death. It's not super gory or anything, but hey, better safe than sorry, am I right?

"Sans... Take your brothers and go home. I'll meet you there shortly and we can make dinner together, alright?"

The skeleton child stared up at the human woman with wide sockets, another skeleton child standing beside him and holding onto his coat while a babybones was in his arms, smooshed against his chest. He glanced around, noting the look on the adult monsters' faces; Their eyes were sunken, they were thin from starvation, and among the group, the ones with fur looked as though they'd somehow contracted mange. Sans met his step mother's gaze again and frowned, not wanting to leave her side, "Mom, I can't. I don't wanna leave without you." The woman sighed, lowering herself to her knees in the snow and reaching out to gently cup the child's face, offering him a small smile, "Sans, please. This won't take long, I promise. Just be a good boy and take your brothers home. I'll be back in time for supper, I promise." Sans' frown deepened and he leaned into her touch almost desperately, his voice a fearful whine as another adult monster stepped closer to her, a sound similar to a growl escaping its maw.

Lila gently stroked the skeleton child's cheek with her thumb in an effort to soothe him, a pleading look in her eyes as she murmured, "Sans... please. Just... please just do this for me. Can you get your brothers home?" The fear the bubbled in his stomach became too much, causing a blue tinted tear to run down his face as he nodded and sniffled. Lila's expression softened as she wiped away the tear, sighing as she pulled him into a hug, careful not to crush the toddler in Sans' arms. Holding him close, she pressed a soft kiss to his forehead and murmured against his bone, "I love you, Sans... Look after your brothers for me, ok?"

Sans nodded again, trying to bury his face in the crook of her neck and muttering, his voice shaking now, "I love you too, Mom." Gently tugging a tiny Papyrus closer, Lila pulled him into a hug, also kissing his forehead as well before mumbling, "And Papy... You're such a brave boy. Do you think you can help Sans look after Toby for me while I'm away?" Papyrus eagerly nodded his head, "OF COURSE, MAMA. WHEN WILL YOU BE COMING HOME?" Her smile became one of sadness as she hummed, "I'm not sure yet, but hopefully soon... I love you, ok? Don't forget that." The skeleton child beamed at her, his grin wide, "I LOVE YOU TOO, MAMA!" Lila released him, her attention settling on the youngest of the children.

As the toddler peered up at her with wide sockets and innocent confusion, she fought to choke back a sob, kissing his head and whispering, "My baby... Stay safe, Tobias...ok? I love you so much." The toddler reached out to grip the sleeve of her coat, his voice soft, "Love you, Mama." As the small circle of monsters began to close in on the tiny family, Lila slowly rose to her feet, gently nudging Sans and trying to usher him away. As Papyrus latched onto his elder brother's coat again, Sans held his step mother's gaze, a mutual understanding passing between them. As a realization clicked into place, his eyes widened further in horror, and more tears pricked at his sockets. He took a few steps back away from the human, then turned, using a shortcut to whisk himself and his two younger brothers away. Lila's chest began to heave as she turned to face the small gathering of monsters around her.

Offering them a saddened smile as a tear finally ran down her face, she sniffled, "I... I know you're starving. I know you're doing this because you're hungry. So please... if you really plan to eat me, promise me that my kids will be safe, and that they'll be cared for. Promise me you won't leave them to die." Her bottom lip quivered, and she cried out as she felt someone's teeth sink into her shoulder. She let out a much louder sob; her final thoughts circling in her mind, "I'm sorry, boys... I won't be home in time for supper..."

Tilting his head and grinning widely, Sans curled his fingers into his empty socket, watching as Toby weakly attempted to crawl through the snow, dragging himself away from his eldest brother with wide, fearful eyes. Sans chuckled softly, his pace casual as he stalked toward the child, his voice now a baritone growl, "Sorry, little bro... I wish it didn't have ta be this way. Really. I love you, and I did my best ta keep ya safe like Mom wanted, but y'know... we're all starvin'. There's no food and rations are startin' ta run out. There's barely enough food for Paps and I, let alone you too. We tried ta make it work, we really did." He paused, roughly stomping on one of Toby's legs and appearing unphased as the child screamed in pain. As he began to sob and plead with his eldest brother to stop, his small body began to tremble, and Sans sighed, continuing, "But it didn't go the way we wanted. We can barely feed two mouths, and with you here... it's makin' gettin' enough food even harder. 'Sides, you're sick and weak anyway. By gettin' rid a' ya, I'm actually helpin' you. Puttin' ya out of your misery, y'know?"

Tobias whimpered, "S-Sans, brother, please! Please don't do this!" Sans hummed, leaning over his kid brother to reach around him, his stained fingers tracing along his jaw. As his grip suddenly tightened, his smile faded, now a frustrated frown, "Toby, I been thinkin' about this whole thing nonstop for a while now. I've exhausted myself from it, and we've already run out of other options. This is the only thing left that we can do." The child sobbed, attempting to turn his head and look up at Sans over his shoulder, "Sans, come on... I love you, brother! You're really smart, there has to be another way! Maybe something you haven't thought of yet!" The eldest of the two growled softly in irritation, shaking his head, "I'm sorry, but there's not. If it makes this any easier on ya, I love ya too, and I so wish I didn't have ta do this." Processing Sans' words, Tobias began to thrash in the snow, screaming and calling out for their other brother to come help him. Sans grunted, roughly jerking his little brother's head to the side. There was a loud crack, and just like that... silence.

Sans let out a deep sigh, releasing Toby's head and stepping away from the body, hanging his head in shame as he began to tug at the edge of his head injury, mumbling to himself, "I tried ta protect him and Paps, Ma. I really did. I couldn't do it though, and I... I let you down, didn't I? I'm a disappointment, a failure, a disgrace. Ya shouldn't have gone and left us alone like ya did. If you were still here right now, we wouldn't be-" "SANS? BROTHER, WHERE HAVE YOU GONE OFF TO NOW?"

Upon being interrupted by Papyrus, Sans blinked, taking notice of something wet on his face. He gently touched the wetness then pulled his hand back, noticing the blue tinted tears on his fingertips; Huh. So he'd been crying, it seemed. Papyrus appeared at the end of the path and called out to Sans again, snapping his older brother out of his hazy train of thought. When the two finally left, an apparition appeared, standing beside Toby's body. It became the shape of a human woman, frowning as she looked down at the child who laid in the snow. As a single tear ran down her face, she knelt, reaching out to gently run a hand over his skull. One of his eye lights reappeared, now resembling a snowflake as it flickered in his socket. He lifted his gaze, his tears now crimson as he whimpered brokenly, his voice barely audible, "M-Mom?..."

Thunder clapped loudly, causing the walls of the house to shake. Famine could hear War nearly shrieking through their thin, shared wall, and he sighed, slowly sitting up in bed. Moving over to his window, he pushed the curtains aside, peering outside and watching the sky as he listened to the sound of the pouring rain. He hated and loved thunderstorms at the same time; It was always cool to watch the lightning that came with it, but the noise from the thunder and the way the rain made everything wet? He could live without those. Along the edge of the nearby forest, he could've sworn he'd seen a figure moving. Squinting his sockets as he tried to get a better look, lightning flickered across the sky, illuminating the figure again.

It was a woman.

That hair, those clothes, the way she held herself... It was familiar, somehow. Through his fractured mind, he attempted to put the pieces together and make sense of it, his memories not quite aligning with one another. Lightning flickered again, and a second figure appeared, smaller than the first. The way they stood together made it appear as though they were holding hands. Just as Famine thought he'd figured out why the first figure seemed familiar, both of them vanished. A moment passed before he spotted the next flash of lightning, and the childlike apparition that now stood much closer to his window. Tilting its head up to lock gazes with him, the apparition stared, crimson tears running down his face. Famine also stared in a mix of confusion and shock, his sockets widening. There... There was no way. That wouldn't make sense. There was no way in hell that could be Toby... right?

The temperature of his room dropped by a noticeable degree and the rider let out a shaky breath. As he began to hear a woman crying, he slowly turned around, his soul pounding in his rib cage. A ghostly figure now stood in the room with him, tears running down her face as she watched him. Drawing in a sharp, trembling breath of her own, she sobbed, as if completely heartbroken, "Sans... Why did you do it? Sans, why?..." Famine began to tremble, frozen in place as he stared at her. She reached out to him, her touch chilling him to his very core as she continued sobbing, "Please tell me why, Sans... Why did you do it?..." Blue tinted tears began to drip down his face and he shook his head, his rough voice cracking, "...I... I'm sorry, Mom. I'm so... so sorry." Chest heaving, he used a shortcut, vanishing from the room.

Reappearing in his partner's room, he practically dove into bed with him, shoving the curtains that surrounded the bed out of the way. Visibly startled, Retribution stared up at him, his brow bones becoming knit in confusion, "Famine? What are you-" He yelped as Famine lunged forward, wrapping his arms around him and hugging him tightly. As he pressed his face into his boyfriends chest, attempting to hide in the fabric of his pajama shirt, his body shook and he began to cry. Feeling sadness, fear, and guilt practically rolling off of him in waves, Retribution frowned, gently wrapping his arms around Famine and holding him close, gently petting his head. Clinging to him, Famine sniffled, his voice soft, "Ret, 'm sorry... I didn't mean ta just... appear like this. I needed ta get away from her though. I can't face her, not after what I did." The former prince sighed softly, his normally sharp tone now soothing, "Hush, hush... It's alright, Famine. It's alright, I don't mind you coming here... Who did you need to get away from, though? What happened?"

Famine reluctantly pulled back just enough to meet Ret's concerned gaze, pointing in the direction of his room with a shaky hand, "M-My mom... and Toby. They're supposed to be dead, but they came back. Mom was... she was cryin' and she kept askin' me why I did it. She was askin' me why I killed my brother, why I killed Toby. I couldn't... I couldn't deal with that, and I had ta get away from 'er." Sensing nothing but truth coming from his partner, Retribution hummed, continuing to delicately run a hand over Famine's head, being mindful of his head injury. Without a second thought, he asked, "Would you like to stay here tonight? I'll be up for a while yet, so I can keep an eye on you, if that'd make you feel any better."

Famine seemed to immediately perk up, his single eye light growing brighter as he stared at his partner hopefully, another tear dripping down his face as he nodded, "Y-Yeah, I'd like that... Are ya really ok with that though?... I could ruin your bedding with my claws and spikes. Then you'd also be close ta somebody that used to eat people, somebody who kills kids, somebody who murdered his own baby bro, somebody who-" Retribution sighed deeply, narrowing his sockets as he cut off Famine, "Famine, do us both a favor and shut it. I know what I'm getting into, ok?" The taller rider trailed off into silence and as his eye light dimmed the slightest bit, the former prince's expression softened. Gently wiping away the stray tear, he continued, his voice softer than before, "I know what I'm getting into... I've known since I started feeling things for you. Hell, I've known since I became your friend. I know what you've done. While those things can't be undone, you've learned from them. You have no desire to repeat those mistakes, so you're a different guy now. I never thought I could've learned to love someone who could so readily kill their own family... their own marrow and magical essence. But..."

The smaller of the two paused again, hesitating a moment before he delicately traced his thumb over Famine's teeth, his own cheekbones flushing cyan. Sheepishly meeting the taller's gaze and holding it, he offered him a small, yet genuine smile and murmured, "But I did. I learned to love you, regardless of the things you've done, and I don't intend to let anything change that, either. Also, Famine, I couldn't care less if your claws and spikes ruined my bedding. I have money. If we need to buy more, then we will. It's not a problem to me. If you'd feel better here with me, then I'd be happy to have you." Famine continued staring at Retribution, a blue blush slowly spreading across his face as he processed everything the other had just said to him. When he spoke, his voice was no more than a low mumble, "You... Ya really mean all that, Ret?... Ya really... love me?" Sensing the embarrassment and confusion coming from his partner, Retribution smiled softly, his blush visibly darkening, "I apologize if the words are too strong or sudden, but yes. I really do love you, Famine."

The taller rider was silent, his eye light becoming brighter again. More tears pricked at his sockets and he whispered, "Why though?... Look at me, Firefly. 'M a child killer, a former human eater, I scare everyone who looks at me, and I'm hideous. I got so much baggage, and I'm... I'm unlovable. Why would ya love someone like me?..." Retribution sighed softly again, gently cupping the other's face with both hands, "I love you because I can see all the guilt and pain you carry, and how despite that, you press on. You keep going, and I think that's admirable, and so, so strong. You don't let your past define you anymore, and that's beautiful. Also," he paused, his tone growing stern, "Don't ever call yourself hideous or unlovable again, understand? I don't want you saying such things about yourself. Not when you're so full of love to give, and so very handsome."

Famine's blush darkened several shades and he nodded, still clinging to his smaller partner. At his silence, one of Ret's ghostly tendrils appeared, hooking itself around the covers beside Retribution and pulling them down. Pointing to the open space with his tentacle, the former prince murmured, "There you go, you big oaf. I hope the bed is comfortable enough, and that you're able to sleep well tonight." Famine smiled sheepishly, and as he began to loosen his grip on Ret and move away from him, the same tendril from before stopped him, gently wrapping around his arm. He glanced at it curiously, then shifted his attention to Ret, who merely lifted a hand to lightly tap on his teeth, playfully arching a brow bone at him, "What, no kiss goodnight?" Famine felt more heat rush to his face and let out a deep breath, smiling slightly, "Damn, I shoulda figured ya might want that."

Retribution chuckled softly in amusement, the sound dying down as his partner kissed him. The kiss, though soft, lingered a moment, and as the two began to part from it, Famine breathed out, "I love you too, Ret. Ya dunno what you mean ta me..." Ret's cheekbones became dusted cyan again and he smiled softly, watching as Famine laid down beside him, curling into a ball on his side and trying to muffle a soft yawn. It didn't take long for Famine to doze off, still curled into a ball as he snored softly. Retribution's gaze was full of affection as he kept watch over his sleeping form, occasionally caressing the top of his skull or touching his face. As he decided to finally call it a night, he made himself comfortable beside Famine, feeling vaguely embarrassed as he cuddled closer to his partner.

He'd felt himself beginning to doze off as well, but then he snapped to full awareness again as he began to sense the emotions of someone who'd just appeared in the room with them. As the first of two figures began to make their way around the bed, Ret's cyan eye lights locked onto them, watching closely as they drew nearer and nearer to Famine. The ghostly apparition of a human woman passed partially through the curtains that hung down around Ret's bed, her cheeks stained by tears as she looked down at Famine. As one of her hands reached out to gently touch his face, he shivered, but otherwise remained asleep. Tapping into the woman's emotions, Retribution felt her sadness and a sense of betrayal, he felt her disappointment and anger, but above all else, he felt her immense love for Famine. Turning her head, the woman met the former prince's gaze, offering him a small smile. Although it was very faint, she murmured, "My son... You love my son... Thank you..."

Retribution blinked in surprise, while the spirit shifted her attention, watching as a smaller figure moved around to Famine's side of the bed to stand with her. The former prince stared as a child pushed aside the curtains, appearing much more solid than who he'd assumed was his mother. With his good arm, the child reached out to delicately pat his elder brother's arm through the blankets, radiating not a single ounce of hesitation or fear. The child wrapped his arm around his brother in a half hug, momentarily lying his head on his back despite his spiked spine. Famine grumbled something under his breath, but showed no signs of waking up.

Then almost as soon as they'd appeared, the two figures were gone again. Though they were strange and slightly spooky, Retribution squeezed his eyes shut, deciding to brush them off. Cuddling close to Famine again, he felt heat rush to his face as Famine shifted, wrapping an arm loosely around him. This was precisely what Retribution had meant when he'd said his partner had a lot of love to give, and he wished Famine knew what he was doing right now so he could make his point. When the next morning arrived, the taller rider stirred first, groaning faintly as he opened his sockets and yawned. He absentmindedly stretched his arms and legs, but then he paused, feeling someone clinging to him. He blinked; Oh yeah... this wasn't his room, was it?

Looking down at his shorter partner, he sighed, smiling softly. The former prince was still asleep, cuddled as close to him as possible and tightly clutching his shirt. He gently placed a hand on Ret's face, and despite his aching back, he leaned down a bit, pressing a soft kiss to his head and murmuring lowly, "Good mornin', Beautiful..." Retribution yawned, releasing Famine's shirt to rub his sockets. As he began to wake up and register the other's presence, he hummed, his otherwise sleep-laced tone holding a hint of playfulness, "Good morning, Handsome." Famine snorted softly in amusement, arching a brow bone, "I dunno if 'handsome' is the word for it, but yeah, I guess maybe I have a certain charm, huh?" Retribution hummed again, his tendrils suddenly emerging and capturing his partner. While Ret scooted back away from him, two tentacles gripped his arms and pulled him up into a sitting position, while the other two wriggled behind him. The first two pushed him back down onto his back, his spiked spine cushioned between the second pair of tendrils.

As they widened and grew in size, the first pair released Famine's arms in favor of joining then, adding to the cushioning beneath him. Famine's sockets widened in surprise as Retribution climbed on top of him, straddling his hips and trying to look stern as he crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring the cyan heat that rushed to his cheekbones. Famine's hands instinctively moved to hold the other's hips, his entire face immediately flushing a deep shade of his signature faded denim blue as he stared up at Ret. In turn, the former prince huffed, his eyes narrowed in false irritation, "Famine, don't try to say otherwise. I'm attracted to you, and I think you're handsome... Very handsome. Do you really wish to contradict me?"

Famine nervously swallowed, shaking his head, "Nah... 'm not tryna contradict ya, firefly. S'just that I don't see what you do, I guess." Retribution let out a deep breath, rolling his eye lights. A brief moment passed before his expression softened and he tilted his head, looking down at the taller of the two and murmuring, "Firstly... you should see yourself when you're in the kitchen. When you're in your element and cooking for everyone, your movement becomes graceful and knowing. Everything is done with purpose, and is deliberate. Secondly, although your sense of humor is questionable at times, it's unique and it's part of what makes you... You. And then next up, there's your eye..."

He paused, slowly leaning down over his partner and gently cupping his face with both hands, lowering his voice further, "You might've lost one of your eyes a while ago due to a series of rather unfortunate events, but the one you still have is utterly captivating. When our gazes become locked, it's like I'm mesmerized. I can't bring myself to look away. That eye of yours ignites this flame in my soul, and I can't describe the way it feels." Famine felt as though he couldn't breathe, still staring up at his partner with widened sockets, flushed blue all the way down to his shoulders. Noticing the rush of surprise, embarrassment, disbelief, and elation that the other was feeling, Retribution smiled to himself; He wasn't lying when he'd told Famine that he found him handsome, but at this particular moment, there was nothing cuter than that look he was wearing. So surprised, so flustered... Ret loved it.

#writing #four horsemen of the apocalypse #riders of the apocalypse #undertale #undertale au #retribution.exe #famine.exe #lila.exe #toby.exe

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dontasktheradiodemon · 3 years

Text

Star of the Cabaret

Alastor a.k.a. Leal a.a.k.a. Astre @usedhearts invites Alastor a.k.a. Astor to see him at a cabaret show. Astor doesn't know when he arrives that it's going to be Leal in disguise. It's a pleasant surprise.

Naturally the best way to react to this is to run to Leal's dressing room, carrying a bouquet, hollering about how madly in love he is with this singer. For the lulz.

(They stubbornly refuse to think or talk about any of the tense topics they’ve been discussing lately.)

Leal

🩸 Tonight. The Cabaret. Ten PM, on the dot. Ask for Madame.

Astor

🎶 I'll be there.

Leal

🩸 See you then. :)

Astor

Really? See him then? And here he'd thought his alternate wouldn't be available to meet him at the start of the show? Maybe his alternate was joining him later.

Either way, he was there at ten on the dot, asking for Madame at the door. Leal hadn't told Astor he needed to be subtle, so he'd come as himself. If the other guests ran, well, that would be on Leal for not not explaining, wouldn't it.

Leal

Contrary to most of Hell, when Astor stepped into Madame's Cabaret, he was greet not with screams, but with _smiles._ Albeit, they were still nervous smiles, but smiles all the same! The hostess didn't run either, but a bitch still powerwalked to get Madame.

The giant woman sauntered through to the entrance, positively beaming, though there was a hint of confusion in her eyes.

"Alastor? I thought--" She paused, taking a second glance. "Oh! Pardon me, you're not the local, are you? Forgive me, shouldn't assume like that! Welcome, welcome, come on in. I'm guessin' that my good friend invited you to use his booth, yeah, shug?"

Astor

Oh, what was he walking into? He didn't like that confused look; it gave him the uncomfortable feeling that he was walking into a trap. What did Madame know that he didn't?

All the same, he beamed widely. "He certainly did! I've been meaning see your place since New Year's, anyway—and he recommended I see tonight's show in particular. So, why not!" He wasn't planning to sleep tonight anyway, and a show would be a fine distraction.

Leal

Madame chuckled and nodded. "I'm sure he did, he knows the talent well-- he made sure you came on the night one of our headliners goes on! She's a peach, voice like an angel, I'm sure you'll be impressed."

She winked at him and turned to guide him into the Cabaret proper. The time between shows was a loud one, people talking amongst themselves. The house was packed, every seat filled-- save for the large lounge seat clearly meant for Madame herself, and a booth directly to said seat's left. That booth was mostly boxed off from the rest of the audience, but gave a very, very good view of the stage-- someone who sat there would have the best view of everything.

"Here ya are, darlin'. I'll send a girl 'round to getcha order, if'n ya want a drink or some food. We got fresh seafood, all Nawlins fair you could think of-- Al helped with some of the recipes, tastin' and makin' sure they got the right flair, I'm sure it'd be up ya alley."

Astor

"That's what he said! Something about magic tricks, too? I'm eager to see anyone who comes so highly recommended."

Of course, a private booth that would save most of the audience from having to look at the Radio Demon. As he took his seat, he let out a low whistle at the promise of fresh seafood. "I *must* find out who your supplier is."

Leal

"Oh, that, well--" She leaned down, covering the side of her mouth with her hand to whisper. "It's the same supplier that our local Al got. He hooked me up."

Madame winked again. "Now, I'll just be in the seat right here should ya need me for anythin'. The act'll be on in abouuuut--" She pulled a pocket watch from her favorite pocket-- her tits-- and popped it open to look. "Fifteen minutes!"

Madame retreated to her seat, and sure enough, a moment later a waitress approached with a menu. Either she was comfortable with Leal already, or she was an incredible actress, because she seemed completely unafraid!

Astor

"*Ah.* So it's a new menu, I take it." A gracious nod. "I'll let you know if I need anything at all!"

It was a nice change of pace to have the employees *not* run from him in terror. He only glanced at the menu before ordering, "A soda and bitters, and... whatever you recommend for dinner, darling." No doubt this place already knew Leal's tastes, and Leal's tastes were close enough to Astor's.

Leal

The waitress took down the order and the menu before leaving-- and it only took her a few minutes to return, with his drink and a plate of crab eitouffee. She set them before him and left again.

It was right around that time that the lights dimmed and the crowd hushed. The show was about to begin.

A soft light shone down from above, illuminating a lone figure, sitting on a swing high in the air. A woman with long legs clad in fishnets dressed in a tight corset bejeweled with diamonds, swung gently. Her long red hair caught the light as the swing lowered.

"_The French are glad to die for love_," She began. "_They delight in fighting duels._"

The silence between her words was palpable, the entire audience transfixed. The air sparkled with what seemed, at first glance, to be glittery confetti-- but it must've been magic, as the confetti never reached the ground.

"_I prefer a man who leaves, and gives expensive...._"

The audience caught on the trailing sentence as she leaned back sticking out a leg and her gloved arm and whispered the last word.

"_Jewels._"

The swing began to spin, and the band picked up as the number truly began, to cheers from the crowd.

Astor

Astor ate quickly, wanting to get a bit of food in him before he had to stop to pay attention to the show—and a good thing he did, since it started so soon.

He recognized it from the first line—"Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend," a cabaret staple. Although with flashier special effects than in *Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.* Leal hadn't been kidding about her magic—Astor could choose to see through the confetti, like choosing to seeing through a reflection on a window by focusing on the background beyond it, but only because he himself had so much experience with magic. It was the sort of illusion he'd be able to pull off himself easily, if he wanted. Surely Leal could too; Astor wondered if his alternate had helped this performer with any of her tricks, maybe that was why he was so keen on promoting her performances...

Oh, hello. Astor squinted. It took until the performer lowered most of the way before he noticed it, but he could see through the surface of *her,* too. She herself was in a magical disguise. Who was really under there—

—*Ha!*

Leal

The swing swung out over the crowd again, and Leal-- or rather, Astre as she was called in this guise- fluidly dismounted onto the stage when it swung back. Voice ringing out, she sauntered across it, eyes locking onto the booth-- and Astor sitting in it. Good, he was here.

For a split second, the glamour dropped-- and Leal winked at his double-- before it was back up, the performance continuing without pause. Astre shimmied and danced and sang, and the crowd ate it up. No touching though-- unlike the number in Moulin Rouge her ensemble was stolen from. Astre stayed on the stage the whole time.

She planted her feet and stretched out her arms as she belted the last note, the crowd erupting in applause and wolf whistles. Flowers were heaped upon the stage, and Astre snatched a bouquet out of the air, holding it to her chest. She waved and retreated backstage.

And a note appeared on Astor's table, a card folded in half to stand with a lipstick kiss on the outside. Inside, Astor would recognize Leal's chicken scratch saying to meet him backstage-- He'd know the dressing room just by looks.

Astor

Astor's grin was widening even before the glamour dropped—oh, he's got you figured out—and he winked back as Leal passed. No *wonder* Leal hadn't been able to meet Astor at the table.

When the number was over, he applauded until his alternate was off the stage, and then devoured the rest of his étouffée as fast as possible. He wanted to catch his alternate backstage while he was still in costume—ah, and there was his invitation, perfect.

He magically collected a full bouquet worthy of flowers off the stage as he swept out of his seat and headed backstage.

Now, he could have quietly and discreetly gone to his alternate.

That was not what he decided to do.

"*Where* is that WONDERFUL singer?!" Everybody backstage would be able to hear him. Everyone. "That *absolutely* INCOMPARABLE star, the BEAUTY who has STOLEN this HELPLESS BEAST'S heart—!" He's hamming it up for all he's worth. Somewhere along the line he summoned up a teddy bear and a heart-shaped box to go with his bouquet.

Leal

Oh, and heard he was-- other performers stuck their heads out and then quickly back in upon seeing the Radio Demon espousing love of all things. Leal heard him too, his smile widening as he stood, cracking open the door of his dressing room.

"Oh, is it me you're talking about?" He cooed, his current voice matching the one he'd sung with. "Why, you certainly know how to flatter a lady."

He opened the door wider, making sure his glamour was still on, to let Astor in. "Come along now, this lady would like a little privacy~"

Astor

"Oh, there you are!" He shuffled around his many gifts so he could lay a hand on his chest as he leaned against the wall, feigning weak knees. "Apple of my eye, songbird of my heart! I would have given you a standing ovation, but had I stood I would have swooned—!"

Okay, he wasn't going to be able to keep this up without laughing, better get behind closed doors. "You *honor* me by accepting my company." He took Leal's hand, kissed it gallantly, and swept into the room.

Leal

It's a good thing he did, because Leal had been about ready to shut the door in his face. Once it was shut, the glamour dropped to show-- that surprisingly, pretty much only his face and skin tone were the things he changed. The rest seemed to be just...flash and a corset.

And a wig, which he removed, his ears popping up from where they'd laid flat. He stuck it on a wighead and smirked.

"So, what did you think of the show?" He asked, taking a seat to start removing his make up.

Astor

"Oh, quite impressive, indeed!" He offered the bouquet. And the teddy bear. And the heart-shaped box. The box has charcuterie rolled into rose shapes in each little wrapper that would usually hold a chocolate. "Fine work with the magical effects. Flashy without being gaudy."

Leal

Leal took each gift and set them on his vanity, opening the box to take one of the charcuterie roses and eat it.

"Thank you, thank you. You understand now why I was being so cagey about joining you, right?" He chuckled. "I had to keep up the suspense! The drama! I had to have my big reveal!"

Astor

"You could have said you were helping out backstage, at least! I was beginning to think you just didn't want to see me!" He said this in an exaggeratedly woe-is-me tone that suggested he had, in fact, not been thinking this at all—but to be fair, what he *had* been thinking wasn't much more optimistic.

"Well, that's certainly one way to get on the stage without everyone running in terror!"

Leal

Oh, that was a thought, wasn't it? "I suppose I could have! That didn't cross my mind, I think I was too caught up in the euphoria of a good surprise!" He chuckled.

"Oh yes, I started doing it oh....fifty years ago? Madame's the only one here that knows." He pointed at the door. "That stays locked at all times _and_ magically warded, and I leave through portals once I'm done. It's all very hush hush. I've put a shade glamoured to look like me in my booth a number of times to make sure people don't think it suspicious that I'm never here to see one of the top billed stars."

He turned from the mirror to grin at Astor. "So you're just helping my cover, honestly."

Astor

"I was *wondering* how you handled never attending your own shows! Here I'd imagined you were going to pretend to have a feud with yourself."

Leal

"Ha! That _was_ an option I considered! But I figured, easier to put a shade there and have it watch while I performed." A shrug.

"I do all kinds of things, too. Song and dance, yes, but I mix it up. Our era, modern stuff, Broadway. I picked that number tonight just for you, you know! Had to pull out one of my best for myself!"

Astor

"I'm touched! And quite well done with it!"

Might as well get comfortable. He stole a chair. "My goodness, if you're one of the star acts—you're more or less a regular employee, aren't you? How much time *do* you spend here?"

Leal

"A fair amount-- less now than in the past, which is why it took so long for me to be able to put on a performance you could see." He took a breath and kicked up his legs-- still clad in fishnets and heels still on.

"I don't perform often, _that's_ one of the main draws of my acts. I'm aloof, a rare occurrance. It makes it all the bigger spectacle when I _do_ show up. Madame and I have a Deal: I get to perform whenever my little heart desires, and I get her things with my connections upstairs. Like fresh seafood."

Astor

"Oh, a Deal! So she'd fire you if only she could, but she can't lose the only shrimp dealer in Pentagram City, is that what you're saying?" He laughed. "I received quite the treat, then!"

Leal

"The Deal was really to get my hoof in the door, once I showed I could bring in the money, Madame was more than happy to let me do whatever I wanted." He snorted.

"But yes, I _am_ the only shrimp dealer." Leal winked.

Astor

"That's one way to get past the dreaded first interview, isn't it! And here I've been wearing disguises to rehearsals!" He laughed.

Leal

"It sure is! An exchange of favors can work wonders." Leal chuckled.

"Now that you know though, it goes without saying to keep it under your hat." He winked as he put a finger over his smiling lips.

Astor

He summoned up a shadow hat and plopped it on his head, where it promptly disappeared again. "Am I *really* the only person you've told besides Madame?"

Leal

"Valera knows." He shrugged as if that would be obvious. "I told her a bit ago and then she came to watch the other day, while I was doing other numbers to warm up for the big ones-- for you and Alexa. Yours was Sparkling Diamonds. Alexa's is going to be Applause."

His smile widened. "So, after that, it's just going to be the three of you, plus Madame. I'm going to surprise Alexa like I did you."

Astor

"I won't say a word," he vowed. "Not that it's likely to come up, but."

Leal

"Exactly! That's the beauty of it, though-- no one expects the Radio Demon to be crossdressing at a cabaret!" He cackled.

"It would never even cross anyone's minds! Which makes it the perfect avenue for performing!"

Astor

"You know, when I do drag, most of the time I don't disguise myself—I don't even wear a wig! And do you know what the most common comment I get is?" He winked. "'Has anyone ever told you you look a little like the Radio Demon?'"

Leal

"It's amazing, isn't it? How changing just a few things about us makes everyone suddenly seem to forget what we look like!" He flattened his ears again, taking the wig and putting it back on. He adjusted it and the picked up a pair of large sunglasses from the table, sliding them on.

"I go out like this and people don't even think it's me. They think I'm Astre! Of course, I _have_ spent a lot of time making sure that's what they think-- but the point still stands! I don't even have to use the glamour other than to just--" A ripple and his skin color changed-- back to something that looked more like his tone when he was alive.

"Just for consistency's sake."

Astor

"Can't have the big stage star looking half dead, after all." He huffed. "I met someone who thought I could do a spectacular impression of the Radio Demon in drag, can you imagine? Sometimes I'm half tempted to try it out, just to see how many people still can't imagine the actual Radio Demon would openly crossdress.

Leal

"They seem to think we live and die in pants." He snorted, letting the glamour drop, and taking the wig and glasses off. "This isn't even a skirt! It just shows more leg than pants does!"

He gestured to himself, still in the stage outfit. "And yet they don't understand who they're oogling!" Leal couldn't help but laugh again.

Astor

"I don't know what *you* were doing on Christmas Eve, but *I* died in pants!" He laughed. "That's the benefit of our usual look, isn't it? It's all a blur of red. Nobody looks at anything but the smile. Simple wear a different color and suddenly you're unrecognizable."

Leal

"Honestly, I've been on stage in our brand of red before and still! Not a soul thought a thing of it! And that was in my early days, too!" He laughed and shook his head.

"It's like if it's anything but a red suit specifically, people don't even see us. I swear, I could go out in a carbon copy of our suit, but in say, green, and people wouldn't recognize me!" He paused. "Okay, maybe they would, but the point stands!"

Astor

"Well, *now* I want to experiment! Throw some gold in there and you've got a Mardi Gras look! See how much we can push the envelope before someone works it out."

Leal

"Now, that WOULD be interesting wouldn't it?" He stroked his chin. "What if we changed our hair to go along with it? Just matched the color? That'd be funny and also might help."

Astor

"Fine, but I'm calling dibs on gold! You can go with green or purple." He patted his waves daintily. "What do you think, would I look nice as a blond?"

Leal

"I think Mimzy would try to kill you for stealing her look!" He laughed. "Alright I'll go with purple-- I like that better than green."

Astor

"She can dye her hair red for the day, it's only fair. Red hair's always hot. And it's not like I'm using it!"

Leal

"It certainly is!" Leal gestured to his wig, now back on its wighead. "I'm sure it'll only take a few minutes to whip up a colorswap glamour, wouldn't you say?"

Astor

"At the most! The longest part would be picking the exact shade!"

Leal

"Oh yes, absolutely, there are so many! How to choose..." He tapped his chin in thought.

Astor

"Any time I change something's color, I always have to slap it on first and then adjust it by eye. Unless I'm matching a photo." A wry smirk. "A while ago Angel sent me a picture of one of his blonde wigs to copy, but the photo must have been taken in cool lighting, because it looked like a sort of lavender gray—so that's what I walked around in all day. I didn't even realize I hadn't really matched it until he pointed it out."

Leal

"Oh, the one you wore for the audition! I remember, I did like the way it looked." He moved in front of his full length mirror-- and in a blink was in his normal clothes. And with default Alastor hair-- that was part of the glamour.

"I think I'll try it your way, let's start with primary solid purple." Annnd there he was, but now purple.

Astor

"Try making a few strands lighter and darker. That always helps save me from looking like I escaped from a poorly colorized picture show." Leal probably already knew to do that, but was that going to stop Astor from shouting out his hard-learned tips and tricks? No, it was not.

Leal

"Hm, good idea!" He started to card his fingers through his hair, strands changing at random. Then he swapped the normally black parts at the base of his ears and the end of his hair to a dark purple instead. His other colors shifted, too, some becoming lighter or darker, until it was a more natural look.

"How's this?"

Astor

"Quite convincing! Why, if I didn't know better, I'd think you're a natural violet!"

Leal

Leal chuckled, moving to sit back in his chair.

"Alright, hot shot, your turn then! Show me those metallics!"

Astor

"Let's see here! What about..." He flicks his finger against his hair. *Ting.* It instantly looks and shines like it's been sculpted out of solid gold. "What do you think, is it going to convince anyone?"

Leal

"Think maybe that sheen is a bit too on the nose! Tone it down a tad." He hummed, static filling the air briefly as he did.

"I just realized, you're probably going to look like one of those living statue fellows! Or some Las Vegas performer!"

Astor

Alastor laughed. "What, like this?" He snapped his fingers and now all of him looked like he was solid gold.

A laugh, and he snapped his fingers again and was back to normal. This time his hair actually looked like hair. Unusually shiny hair, but still hair. He examined himself in the mirror. "Well, it needs work, but we're in the ballpark.

Leal

Leal snorted into a laugh, nodding his head. "Yes, just like that!"

He considered Astor, tilting his head. "The blond is harder to work with because if it doesn't look natural, it just looks overly processed or completely fake. Whereas my purple seems fine with less because purple is inherently an unnatural color."

Astor

"But if it looks natural, then it doesn't look like gold." He tried to shift it more toward what he thought a "normal" blond looked like—and it just looked kind of bad and yellow. He tutted. "I might have to browse a wig shop for examples, this is going to be a difficult color."

Leal

"Oh no need for a shop, come over here." Leal stood moving to a door that was very much not the one that lead back out to the hall. He opened it and snapped, the light turning on.

"I don't just wear red wigs, darling." He smirked.

The room was almost as big as the dressing room itself, filled with all manner of costumes and wigs and accessories.

"Have a look, blondes are over there." He gestured to a bunch of blonde wigs on heads.

Astor

"Does Madame really let you take up this much space, or is this *your* property?" He tried to feel as he stepped through the for for any shift in the atmosphere that would indicate he was magically moving to a different place.

"This is quite a collection!" He started going through the blonde wigs for any that could be properly called gold-colored. "I've always done my hair with a liberal application of pomade and shapeshifting. What got you into wigs?"

Leal

"The dressing room is mine, but any extra space is just a little spacial distortion, nothing fancy." He shrugged, like it was a normal thing. But to his alt, it probably was.

"Doing my performances actually. I started out using my real hair, but it ended up not being practical when I wanted certain dos and it was just too short. So I started collecting. I've got a wide variety now, one for every occasion in an engenue's life." He laughed.

Astor

Seemed normal enough to him!

"What young lady's wardrobe is complete without a variety of hats!" He picked up one head to squint closer at the color. "I rarely venture outside the flapper bob. When I do, I usually just magic that up too—but I suppose you don't want to risk something distracting you and breaking the illusion mid-show, do you!"

Leal

"Exactly! The less things left up to my concentration the better!" He laughed.

"Any striking you so far?"

Astor

"What do you think, does this look gold to you? Properly Mardi Gras gold-gold?" He held it out.

Leal

Leal inspected the wig, light shifting to be a more neutral white instead of the yellow of most of the usual bulbs. His head tilted, eyes narrowed.

"I think if you take that and the up the saturation a tick or two, you'd have it."

Astor

He silently mouthed the words *up the saturation...* After a moment of thought, he ran his claw tips through the wig and made the yellow a little more vivid. "Like so?"

Leal

Oh, had that been confusing for his alt? Hm, he'd note that. "Yes, just like that!"

Astor

He wasn't exactly a visual artist. "Hm." A squint, did that look gold? He didn't exactly have a gold brick here to compare it with, did he? "Let's try it out!" Back into the main dressing room, so he could hold up the wig to act as comparison in the mirror while he adjusted his own hair color.

"There! I wouldn't call it *my* color, but I'm sure I'd be wearing a mask with it anyway, wouldn't I? Of course, by next February, I'll have to do this all over again." A wave, and both the wig and his hair returned to their usual colors. "Did I ever ask you how your Mardi Gras went? I don't know if I did. It's such a busy season, and then right after that rehearsals started."

Leal

"I don't recall if you did or not either! It was a fine time, I collected a lot of beads on my antlers." He chuckled, the purple fading from his clothes and self-- and then a blink and they swapped back to the outfit he'd been wearing, his costume from the show. Sometimes, one just wanted to be covered in diamonds, it seemed.

"I got absolutely sloshed, three sheets to the wind and then some! It was a good time-- I don't remember half the night!"

Astor

"Oh yes, I remember seeing you say that! You'd mentioned the beads." He returned the wig where it belonged. "I suppose you don't do the courir? You've never mentioned any Cajun family."

Leal

"Oh no, no Cajun. Always liked seeing them running around though." He chuckled.

"No, my father's side was more..." He sneered briefly. "They were Northerners. Carpet-baggers. Did I tell you that before?"

Astor

Oh, so he'd seen the courir! Astor's eyes brightened a bit. Outside of Louisiana—and sometimes even inside, depending on who you were talking to—nobody had ever so much as heard of the courir. The fact that Leal at least knew what it looked like was something.

"No, I don't think so. From the way you talked about them, I figured they were some old plantation family."

Leal

"Oh, no, I think I would've died sooner if that had been the case." He seemed much more serious about that comment than the phrasing would imply.

"No, my Father came down from up north, New York, wife already in tow. Wanted to make a fortune down south and did so." His smile turned sadistic. "His wife _loathed_ it, the heat and humidity, the bugs, the bayous, everything. The little time I spent with that woman there wasn't a moment of it she didn't complain. And that was after nearly thirty years of living there!"

Astor

Astor certainly didn't take it as a joke. "Mm, fair. I'd prefer the carpetbagger to the plantation owner myself."

He laughed dryly. "Doesn't she sound like a peach. Just think! You very nearly could have had *her* for a mother!"

Leal

Leal shuddered. "I'm certainly glad I didn't! Not with how her own children acted-- only my youngest half-sister was tolerable, and even then, I hardly would say I _liked_ her! Could you IMAGINE if I'd had grown up with the New York Carpet-bagging Catholics?"

He shuddered again and laughed. "Then _I'd_ be the white alternate!"

Astor

"I still don't know how that happens," he muttered. The multiverse was always baffling but sometimes it found particularly uncomfortable ways to be so. "You know, I'm sure I knew at least a few Catholics whose families moved from New York after the war—in fact probably more than I think, I just don't know it—and they seemed... well, less insufferable than *your* people. So, decent enough. But I wonder if I ever crossed paths with yours."

Leal

"It's possible! If you ever came across a carpet-bagger with an insufferable wife, a douchebag of a son, and two daughters, only one of which was tolerable, then maybe!" He snorted.

"I _do_ wonder if you killed my cousin like I did, though."

Astor

A sigh. "Unfortunately for this little thought exercise, whenever I come across people as insufferable as you make them sound, I try not to stick around long enough to find out details like how many children they have, much less which state they lived in a few decades earlier." Unless they were the fun kind of insufferable, but from Leal's testimony they didn't sound that way.

"That depends! Did he like deer hunting?"

Leal

"Don't know! Never had so much as a conversation with him before I killed him. He tasted alright, though." A shrug.

Astor

"That's no help, I don't know how any of my victims tasted. Well! If he didn't, I didn't; and if he did, I might have. I had a very narrow niche of targets."

Leal

"I suppose we'll never know!" Cue an melodramatic sigh and pose.

Astor

"Well, if you ever run into him, tie him up and call me over and I'll let you know if he looks familiar." His grin stretched wider.

Leal

"I'll be sure to!" His own matched his alternate's.

Astor

He cocked his head, listening for sound outside the dressing room. "Say, aren't there usually more acts on after yours? I was told they go into the wee hours." He tilted his head toward the door. "Do you usually have plans after your performance? Or would you like to stir up a little controversy by having the star performer spend the evening in the Radio Demon's private booth?"

Leal

His grin turned devious. "Oh, I'd _love_ to. The tabloids are going to go _wild._ Give me two shakes to get into something more appropriate-- and I do have another performance later, but it's the last show of the night, so no worries there."

Astor

With mock surprise, "Why, my dear other! I was told that's when they put the raunchiest acts! What sort of a performance am I in for?"

Leal

"Oh don't look at me like that, I don't go nude! Just some more....scandalous dance moves." He chuckled.

"I do this every time I perform, because if there's another showing of Astre at the end of the night, more people stay through the rest-- which means more money for Madame with all the drinks and food they have to order to stay put." He winked as he headed to his closet. A minute inside and he reappeared, this time in a sparkling red evening gown. He got his wig and put it back on, letting the glamour drop in place on his face.

"I figured I'd wear your color, darling," He cooed in Astre's voice.

Astor

"Why, my darling, you look simply *ravishing* in red!" He offered an elbow and a wink. "In fact, you look *just* as good in red as I do."

Leal

Astre laughed, taking his arm with a curled, clawed hand. "I think so too." She winked back. "Shall we?"

Astor

"Let's!" He opened the door with a gesture, and out they go. "I recommend the étouffée tonight, my sweet. It's simply divine!"

Leal

"I'll have to give it a try!" And with that, they exited back out into Madame's, alighting rumors everywhere.

#((due to random luck one Alastor's nickname is Astor and the other Alastor's drag name is Astre))#(('the Alastors take on nicknames to make them easier to tell apart—' so much for THAT))#usedhearts #chat log

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canyouhearthelight · 4 years

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The Miys, Ch. 93 - Campfire Stories Part 3

Okay, final chapter of Campfire stories, then we are back to our regularly scheduled shenanigans.

Chapter 93: Campfire Stories, Part 3

After Tyche’s story, we took a break to get stuff for s’mores - Charly, Conor, and Simon had teamed up on me, swearing a camping trip was incomplete without them. In lieu of the traditional fire, we were heating them with a short-term portable unit, only good for ten minutes, tops. While I wasn’t worried either way, not particularly liking marshmallows, Charly had taken it upon herself to do rather rigorous testing and assured everyone that the desserts would turn out right.

Once everyone who wanted it had sticky fingers, Conor politely swallowed his fourth sugary concoction. “These are too good, you know?”

“No such thing,” Simon argued. “Be as suspicious as you like, but I firmly believe in taking whatever joy we can get out of life and not pointing it out. Hoping God doesn’t notice, if you get my drift.”

I chuckled, while Arthur looked alarmed. “I did not expect that from you, lucky bastard.”

Simon shook his head furiously. “No. I know I wasn’t in the After, but life on its own was unfair and unjust enough before that. When you get those small moments of ecstatic delight - love, a good dinner, a happy dog, a chance to be kind - you just take it, and don’t let the universe know. Life never apologized for being harsh, I’m not going to apologize for any scrap of happiness I could find.”

“But some things can be far too good,” Conor insisted, picking his teeth thoughtfully. “My family always warned against things like that. The things to be afraid of weren’t the… scarred or damaged ones, but the ones that are flawless. That’s how you spot them, right?”

“Spot whom?” Grey asked, trying to wipe chocolate from their fingers.

“Witches, at least the evil ones. Fae. That sort.” He scrunched his face thoughtfully and leaned back. Tyche arched a brow, and he lunged to point at her. “See? That. You and Sophie arch that brow so much that it’s permanently just a wee bit higher than the other. That makes your face your face. But a face that’s entirely symmetrical? It’s so wrong that even artificial intelligence makes a point to avoid it.”

“Uncanny valley,” I offered, nodding.

He nodded to me. “Exactly. It’s uncanny. Not just in people. I was warned away from perfect circles in nature as a boy. Stones, a patch of grass, any perfect circles. Fairy circles, they called it. My parents told me about a girl who lived near where they grew up, didn’t listen about the woods. Said there was a stand of trees in the woods with a clearing in the middle.”

“Conor -” Charly tried to interrupt.

He waved her off. “The clearing wasn’t a normal one, see? It was exactly perfect, ten feet across from tree to tree, even if they never got an accurate count of trees. Da said twelve, Ma said sixteen. Nan swore blue it was ten. But all agreed that clearing was ten feet across, tree to tree.”

“Con…” This time it was Maverick, glancing around furtively.

Still, he kept on. “What made this clearing so memorable, were the trees around it. Like a snowflake, they were. Closer, but just as even between. Seven feet, precise, no matter who measured it. Then five.”

“Conor, please,” Charly begged, scooting closer to her partner. Even Coffee was giving the clearing a serious gaze at this point.

“The worst part, though,” he soldiered on, “was what told them it was clearly either a cursed place or a Mound: the trees themselves. Any one of them gave a normal person shivers and turned them back if they looked. The trees, you get, were just as bad as the woods themselves. Completely symmetrical, like a spoked wheel. And each ring of trees was exactly the same height, taller ones around the clearing.” He huffed a bit before continuing. “And this girl… this girl, you see? She’d been warned out of those woods since she was knee high to her da. But she kept wandering off, after cats and butterflies and a pretty flower here and there…”

Simon and Maverick were scowling at the trees around us at this point, with Maverick scooting closer to me and periodically glancing at Tyche to make sure she’s still there.

“One day, when he was about sixteen, Da says he saw the girl - she was maybe ten - taking off down the path, pretty as you please. At this point, he knew about her: Doreen. Dreamin’ Doreen. Ten years old, cute as a kitten, and prone to wanderin’ off. So he followed her, makin’ sure she didn’t get in trouble, right? And at first, she’s just… toddling off, if that’s what you can call it for a ten-year old. Right down the trail, not a step off, dead center. But then. Then she just turns, takes a hard left off the trail, between the trees, like she’s following something.

Da was right behind her, only looking away for a second at a time to make sure nothing was coming up on them. After about a half hour of this, he barely registered that the trees were thinner and… odd. Something about the trees bothered him, but he swore he couldn’t figure it out at first. Then, he turned back, and Doreen was gone. No sound, nothing. Just… gone. He started looking for her, thinking she couldn’t have gotten far, but after about five more steps, he saw the clearing.

Even panicked, he knew not to set foot in that clearing. He screamed and screamed for Doreen - they heard him all the way back in town, came running, and he was still hollering for her. When they started to drag him away, he fought ‘em off until Nan stopped him.

Nan grabbed his arm, pointed to a tree, right on the trunk. Those trees were so… perfect… that the damned bark looked like tile on a pillar, not like real bark. Every piece, just as pretty and even as you please. The leaves were the same, could be folded in half and look like they were cut instead. Da swore blind that lookin’ up through those branches was like looking through a bike wheel, the branches were so even-spaced. ‘They din’t look like trees, son,’ he always told me. ‘They looked like trees were described to a sculptor who never seen one’.

To the day they died, they swore that place was a faerie ring, that Doreen got taken by the Sidhe. No one ever found any of her, not a hair, not a bone, not even a scrap of her clothes,” he ground out, frustration clear. “Worse, there was never any proof, ever, that a person had ever stepped foot in those woods. Not even DNA testing on something a person plucked and handed to a researcher, with video proving it happened. Never did figure out what happened in there, not to Doreen or anyone else.”

By this point, Tyche was looking suspiciously at the clearing, and that set of alarm bells in my head. “Conor,” she drawled slowly. “You do realize that the clearing we’re in is… really rather round, and ten, maybe eleven feet across?” He just grunted, staring into the light emitter like he had been since the end of his story. “Conor.” Her tone was firm and more emphatic. “You just told that story in a clearing of fourteen trees, ten feet across, with just enough space between the trees outside for tents. Maybe seven feet?”

When he didn’t respond, she scowled at him and stepped close to a tree. Maverick tried to stop her, but she flung off the arm he reached out. “You shit, these trees… Grey. Can you and Charly come here?” Charly shook her head vigorously, while Grey cautiously stepped over. After a couple minutes, Tyche made a point to stare down Charly, firmly gesturing as politely as possible to stand right here please.

Eventually, all three were looking up at the branches over their heads. Far from her hesitation earlier, Charly marched over to Conor with what I could only describe as ‘intent to kill’. While I looped an arm around her waist, she flailed with all four limbs at him. “You rat faced walnut! You did this on purpose! Lemme down! Let me at him!!!”

To his credit, he flinched away from the angry ball of woman I was keeping away from him. “Char! It was a joke, I swear!” Peeking around his hands, he still flinched a little. “It was just a prank.”

That last word seemed to deflate her entirely. Suddenly, instead of a brunette bundle of possessed weasel, I had a very calm woman gently patting my elbow. “You can let go now, I won’t hit him.”

Hesitantly, I set her back on her feet. Glancing back at Coffee, he nodded, so I relinquished my grip on her entirely. She pushed her hair out of her face with both hands and spun to sit beside her partner. My face must have shown my confusion in brilliant technicolor. “It was just a prank,” she clarified. “I got fooled. I’ll figure out a way to get him back,” she waved nonchalantly.

“Without including me or Maverick?” I asked, arms crossed.

“Shoot.” She bit her thumb. “Yeah, I can do that. It’ll just be harder.”

“I doubt it would be harder than a prank three months in the making,” Arthur pointed out, still looking at the trees with suspicion. “Three, right?”

“Four,” Grey corrected, staring impassively at the bark on the tree. “How did you get the bark to grow in a tile pattern?”

Conor rubbed his neck and grinned abashedly. “A razor, when they were still young enough the bark hadn’t split naturally? It was just a score, to make specific weak points where it would split better. And I stopped when I couldn’t reach anymore.”

With that comment, Coffee surged to his feet and stalked to the closest tree. After a close inspection and a not-at-all-discrete rub of his hand over the tree bark, he nodded. “I can confirm the bark is much more random above seven feet. The detail is very well done, though.” He glanced back at Conor with an impressed expression. “Four months planning did not go to waste.”

“Thank fuck,” Conor chuckled. He looked over his shoulder at Simon, who was still running a careful hand over one of the trees.

“I didn’t know this was possible,” Simon admitted. “You did this with a razor?”

“Trees split into bark when the outer layer gets so dry and firm that it stops stretching,” Grey explained. Conor pointed at them, choosing to be silent. “Since any substance in nature splits along the weakest point, scoring the young bark with a razor, especially if done repeatedly, would cause the bark to split along the scores.”

A dawning look shot across Simon’s face, echoed by a matching expression on Charly’s. “Conor,” Simon ventured. “These trees were force-grown until they were planted. How often did you score them?”

“Two, three times a day?” he winced. “I didn’t want to damage them, so the cuts were really shallow until the bark started to establish. Just so I could tell where to keep scoring.”

“Do we have co - Oh! Thanks, Mr. Farro!” Charly grinned sunnily at Arthur.

“Just… just Arthur right now, okay?” He carefully capped the thermos of hot chocolate.

“Right, you bet, Mr. Farro.” He winced, but she continued blithely. “I have to admit, four months on a prank is a lot to invest, but it paid off.” A careful sip of her drink, followed by a marshmallow coming from nowhere and dropping in. “You literally cultivated a stand of trees to pull this off. Well done, sir. Very well done.”

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#the miys #found family #aliens #apocalypse #stories #original science fiction #sci fi #my writing

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oingo233 · 4 years

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By The Lake*Part Two

Summary: A family friend offers you a place to stay to get away from an abusive past. Her home is a place that you are familiar with, an old town with a large lake you spent many days in. You went there years ago for one full summer, where you became close friends with a very young Daryl Dixon. You two were inseparable until you had to leave. But now you’re back, escaping from a past much like his. You will need to weave your way through the town's problematic people, your own problems, and above all the confusing Dixon. Will you two find your way back to each other again? Or will he push you further away? And above all, will your past cease to haunt you?

Part One * Part Three * Part Four * Part Five

Pairing: Young Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of abuse and violence(potential triggers), cussing, more mature themes(not smut or anything tho), slow burn romance

Authors Note: Daryl Dixon is a character from the amazing show The Walking Dead, but this story is modern AU so not with all the walkers and everything. I don’t own and I didn’t create his character. Also this story is in no means meant to romanticize abuse, that stuff isn’t romantic. It is such a terrible, terrible thing, but it is sadly a very common thing as well. Throughout this series I only hope that I can spread awareness about the matter, and let people know that they aren’t alone, things will get better, and that no one is deserving of any kind of abuse. Ever. Anyways, I’m done with my rant, I hope y’all like it, and if not please send in some constructive criticisms I’m always looking to improve.

Word Count: 2.1k

*******************************************************************************************

The car ride from the ice cream parlor was quite, neither of us even bothered to put on some tunes from the radio. Cherry’s face was bright pink and her fingers kept clenching and unclenching the wheel, I push myself to the corner of the car. Carter used to do the same thing when he was angry. Cherry is not Carter, Cherry is not Carter I repeat to myself over and over again.

Cherry must have noticed my silence, she gives me a forced smile and reaches for the radio. My whole body tenses up and I flinch. The radio starts to play and I feel a soft hand on my knee.

“You’re okay, love. It is those old buffoons I’m pissed about, not you.” You open your eyes and rub at your face, fighting the embarrassed blush.

“I know, I know. It’s just...I’m sorry.” She shakes her head at me.

“Don’t be. None of this is your fault, you’re allowed to cope with your past and feelings in any way that you want. Just know, that if you need anything, anything at all, I’m right next door.” She parks the car outside the white, old house and smiles. She sends me a wink at the sight of my face.

“Next door?” I ask, climbing out the the car. “I thought I came to stay with you?” Cherry rolls her eyes at me.

“Who do you think I am? Of course you’re staying with me, you’re mother would kill me if I sent you into the woods or something. Remember that cabin you and ya mom stayed in way back then?” My mouth falls open. Excitement bubbles throughout my chest at the mere memory of that place. I look behind me, in the direction of the lake, and best of all that cabin. I turn back around at the sound of Cherry giggling.

“Go on then! I’ll bring your bags.” I shake my head at her, fighting my smile.

“Nah, that’s okay. Thank you though. But I really should bring my own bags.” Cherry scoffed at me.

She gave me a pointed look. “You get going and I’ll bring the bags. I insist. When was the last time anyone treated you?” I rush to the back of the trunk before she does and grab my bags with a triumph smirk.

“Uh, about 10 minutes ago.” I say, thinking about the ice cream. She shakes her head and grabs onto the bags with me, tugging at them.

“Let me! Or I’ll send the kids on ya!” I throw my head back in laughter, and in my moment of weakness she grabs my bags from me. She sticks her tongue out at me, and I begin to think she is one of the kids. I shake my head at her.

“Go on, I’ll be right in. Gotta check the bags for drugs or condoms first.” My eyes nearly pop out of my head and she laughs loudly, the noise attracting her family inside the house. The doors burst open and all I see is one navy blur and one pink one rushing towards us like missiles. They both tackle Cherry and she drops my bags to pick the pink one up. From the sound of giggles I can assume it is little miss Rosie, and little dino man Monty.

Monty stares at me with a shy smile from behind his mothers legs. I smile softly at him and wave. His shirt is navy with one of those long necked dinosaurs on them in bright green. I point to it.

“Which one is that?” It takes him a second, but he looks down at his shirt and points at it eagerly. He steps towards me to show me his shirt better.

“This is an alamosaurus. He is one of my favorites, and mom says that if I eat all my salad then there isn’t much difference between us. But I ain’t half as cool. I ‘ave others just like this one, but with different dinosaurs. You wanna see?” He talks a million miles per hour and I try my best to follow along. I was more than ready to go look at his other shirts with him but Cherry sets Rosie down and speaks before I could.

“She’s tired dear. We’re going to let her get settled in then have her over for dinner. After you can show her all your dino’s.” He nods excitedly at me and his mother, making my smile grow. Rosie wasn’t nearly as shy as her brother. She stares my bags and nudges them with her pink sandals, that match her pink dress.

“What’s in ‘ere?” Her cute southern drawl matching everyone else’s. I pick up my bags with a sweet smile to her, then give a meaningful look to her mother.

“Ain’t nothing in here.” I say. Cherry shakes her head with a smile. Of course she knew I would never bring drugs onto her home. Mark walks out with a large smile on his face. He engulfs me in a bear hug and I try not to cringe at all the physical contact I’m getting today. I force myself to breath and hug him back, a warm welcome didn’t used to be so foreign to me after all.

“It is so great to have you stay with us (Y/N)! We could use the baby sitter.” He looks back at Cherry with a wink and we both giggle.

“I would happily look after the kids whenever you need me to. It’s the least I could do.”

“I’m glad to hear that, because we might actually need ya to tomorrow. I know it is a bit soon, but Daryl is comin’ over to work on my car, and Cherry will be outta town. But it ain’t much to keep ‘em happy, just hang in the lake or somethin’“ He finishes with a shrug. “And we’ll pay ya!” He turns around and kisses Cherry on the forehead and I take that as my que to leave. I thank them, and take my bags with me in the direction of the cabin. Occupied with the kids and Mark, Cherry didn’t seem to care that I was the one with my bags, which I was thankful for. I hate people doing things for me.

The cabin is only about a 1-2 minute walk from the house, it used to be a place to store worms and fishing supplies for the lake, but when Cherry bought the house she made in into a little place for people to stay when they came to visit. It had a beautiful view of the lake. The lake is what the town calls it, it doesn’t have any special name, it’s just here. A large lake on this side of town, only about 5 minutes walking distance from Cherry’s and the Henderson's house. So half of the lake faces their property, and the other half faces a beautiful forest. That’s where I first met Daryl.

Oh god Daryl! He was coming over tomorrow and I am almost certain he wants nothing to do with me. I was really hoping Daryl and I could be friends again, he was probably the one thing I was most looking forward to when I moved here.

My thoughts came to a halt when I saw the little cabin in all it’s glory. It had green paint, chipping in ever corner, and some dead leaves caught on the roof. But it felt like the closest thing to home that I have right now. I climb a couple steps onto the porch with two little chairs that face the lake. I set my bags down on the dusty wood, and sit down on one of the chairs.

From here I can see the large, flat rock Daryl and I used to lay on and jump off of. I can see the woods Daryl convinced to go in every once in a while, he’d teach me something he knows about hunting and tracking. I always loved watching Daryl in the woods, it was in them that he seemed most comfortable.

----FlashBack-----

I gripped the crossbow tightly in my hands, Daryl's breath on my neck. He was close, too close. His warm breath tickled, and I can almost hear him thinking “shoot the damn thing already!” But I was too focused on him, and not focused enough on the squirrel.

“(Y/N)...” He whispers into my ear. I didn’t mean to but I shiver, lord help me with this out of control crush. “(Y/N), you gonna shoot the thing?”

No, I’m not I think. I drop the crossbow and let out a loud war cry, watching the squirrel run back up the tree and hide. Daryl lets out a sigh, but I knew that he really wanted to laugh. “What the hell...” He says more to himself as he watches me giggle like mad. He jumped back because of my loudness and I can now breath freely. He always liked to get close to me when we hunted, watching me, whispering tips on what to do. Little did he know that the best tip he could give me, was to not watch at all. I got too nervous.

“I don’t think it had to die Daryl, we can have dinner back at Cherry’s.” I say. He nods at me, silently agreeing. We both sit down, and I hand Daryl back his crossbow. Don’t ask me why a 14 year old is handling one, he never told me. He checked it over making me laugh.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t hurt your baby.” I say sarcastically. He shakes his head at me, laughing, he sets it down and gives me a playful look.

“Just makin’ sure. You’re clumsier than a pig on ice.” I roll my eyes at him and quickly get up, he watches me lazily from the ground.

“Yeah, well maybe I should have killed that squirrel, cause you eat like one.” I say that through a mouthful of laughter, and when I’m done I take off.

“Oh, this ain’t over.” He yells after me, and I can’t hear him get up, but I can hear him chasing after me. I burst through the forest line and he is hot on my trial. The lake glistens before me, I’m standing on the flat rock just outside the forest, it’s about 5 feet above the deep end of the lake. I feel a sense of dread as Daryl comes up laughing behind me.

“Daryl,” I warn, he wouldn’t... He rushes in front of me, an evil smile on his face, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He stops and watches me, his lips pursed in fake thought. Debating whether he should do this or not. I notice how he propped his crossbow against a tree, and I already know what’s going to happen.

“Daryl, please don’t. This shirt was just cleaned...” I whine. He gives me a pouty face before walking closer and closer, until his arms are around me and he walks us over the edge. His laughter rings in my ear as we fall, hardly a second later everything is silent. We were blissfully floating under the water. Daryl swims off of me, but grabs my hand, pulling me to the surface. We both take in deep gulps of air, trying to catch our breaths. But it didn’t matter, we were breathless again as we burst into laughter.

“You’re an ass!” I exclaim, splashing water at his face. He shrugs, a huge smile on his face.

“Maybe.” He says, spitting a mouthful of water at me. We both laugh and spend the day in the lake, not caring that our clothes were wet and dirty.

----End of FlashBack----

I watch the sparkling water until I hear my name being called. I open the cabin doors with a spare key Cherry gave me, and set my bags down. I spare one last look at the lake before running back to Cherry’s white painted house, with chipping paint and rhubarb and other foods growing around in the back. A cute country home.

We ate dinner with friendly banter, and some force eating on Rosie’s end. After dinner Monty only got to show me 3 of his other shirts before he fell asleep on the couch. When the kids were tucked in bed Cherry sent me back to the cabin with some bedtime tea.

I sipped on the steaming tea, while sitting in the same chair as earlier, watching the moon being reflected on the lakes surface. I could live here forever I think. With just my family and friends, Cherry’s family, and I can’t help but think of Daryl being in the mix too. I finish my tea with a frown. I haven’t seen Daryl in years, why does he matter so much to me now? But I think back to that day we spent in the lake, and I know why. I haven’t finished unpacking but I climb into bed anyway, thinking about how I’ll see Daryl again tomorrow.

#daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryldixon #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #twd #the walking dead fanfiction #romance #angst #teen romance #young norman reedus #young daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon/reader #daryl imagine #daryl dixon &reader

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sockablock · 5 years

Text

They stood in the snow on the path to Uthodern, tiny white flakes drifting slowly past their eyes.

Beau cracked her knuckles.

“Well, then? Come on!”

Fjord’s gaze trailed across the dagger in his hands, then flickered briefly to the ground. Stacked in a careful pile at his feet was a whip, a glove, a shield, and an axe, slowly getting being buried beneath the flurry.

He sighed.

“Something just feels off about this. I don’t want to attack while you’re unarmed.”

Beau immediately groaned.

“You’re kidding right?” She waved her hands around. “You’ve seen me punch ghosts into dust, you think I can’t handle a stupid knife? This isn’t some chivalry bullshit, is it? That you can’t come at me just ‘cause I’m a chick?”

Fjord quickly shook his head. He raised his palms, dagger glinting in the light.

“No, gods, no, it’s...definitely not that. Believe me, I’m well aware of your power—”

“Good.”

“Yes, well aware. No, it’s just that...I…I just feel sort of bad.”

“Is it your chest?” Her aggressive stance eased, her head tilted to one side. “Should I go get Cad or Jester or something?”

“What? No, no, it’s not that either. It’s more of…well…that I’m being a burden.” He gestured off towards the distance, where farther up the silver slope, the rest of the group were gathered around a campfire. Smoke curled into the empty sky.

“You should be with everyone else, getting warm. Not standing out in the cold, training me.”

But Beau only frowned and crossed her arms.

“I told you it was fine, though,” she said. “And you know me, you know I’d rather be doin’ this than sittin’ there, bored out of my mind. I can only listen to Nott complain so many times before I try to kill her.”

“Come now, Beau. You can’t mean that.”

“You think I couldn’t take her?”

He exhaled. His breath clouded the greying air.

“I think you’re being nice to me,” he said, finally blunt. “I think you’re trying to make me feel better about...about losing my powers.”

Beau hesitated. She stared at him.

And then, slowly, her eyes narrowed.

“Well...well...so what if I am?” She took a heavy step forward. “It’s your fault anyway, goin’ around and saying that you’re useless and stuff. So sue me if I was tryin’ to be helpful. Plus you need to practice with all the shit we gave you, right?”

Fjord’s eye twitched. He opened his mouth as if to protest, but then, suddenly, he paused.

The dagger dropped to his side. He looked up, and wore a rather weak smile.

“Gods, am I really that pitiful, like this?”

She quickly backpedaled. “It’s...it’s not…no, it’s not about pity. It…it…it’s just pragmatism…”

She trailed off as he shook his head. She watched him let out another breath, then glance down at his pile of weapons. He slid them gently into the snow, clearing the surface of Caduceus’s shield.

Then he sat down. He put his head in his hands.

Beau had never seen him do that before.

“This...this is completely insane.” His voice carried soft on the breeze. “Beau, I shouldn’t keep travelling with you all. I know—I know that you’re about to argue, but like this, I really am a liability. What’s happening now can’t just be fixed by me trying on different weapons. I can’t just...I can’t just be given a bunch of things that I don’t know how to use. Not that I don’t appreciate it,” he added hastily, “I…I do appreciate it quite a bit. Really.”

She shrugged, unsure of what else to do.

“None, uh, none of that shit was mine, you know. You don’t have to sugarcoat it for me.”

He managed a muffled snort in response. “I...am certainly not sugarcoating,” he said. “It does mean a lot to me. It means...yes, it means the world. I can’t express how grateful I am that all of you listened, and all of you heard. And that you didn’t…didn’t...well.”

Beau took another step forward, eyebrows raising as she moved.

“Didn’t what?” she echoed carefully. “Didn’t…?”

“...discard me,” Fjord muttered. “Leave...you know. Leave me behind. Magical items in account, I still real am of no help to you all.”

Beauregard closed the gap in a second, crouched in the snow just before his legs.

“Don’t you dare say that,” she ordered. “Fjord, don’t you ever say that. That’s—that’s...what do you take us for? Who cares how much help you are? Fuck, if that’s all we cared about, we would’ve replaced Caleb with Shakäste years ago.”

This dragged a ragged laugh out of Fjord, that faded into the windswept noon.

His posture relaxed a bit. He gave an eventual nod.

“Yes,” he murmured. “Yes, I…I do see that now. I, ah...I hope that didn’t offend you. At the time...well, I didn’t dare be sure.”

Beau nodded, mission accomplished. “I’m just makin’ sure you know you can be now. Brains can be a bitch, you feel?”

“I...er...yes, indeed. Yes, I suppose that’s fair.”

She watched his mouth move. Her eyes flickered.

“Man, though, you really do sound different.” She leaned in closer and blinked a few times. “Gods, how’d you manage that ‘yeehaw’ shit for so long?”

Fjord’s lips quirked up into a smile, the tips of his tusks just now barely visible.

“Would you like to know a secret?” he asked.

Beau raised an eyebrow.

“Is it gonna be weird?”

He shifted over slightly on the beetle skin shield, and brushed away a dusting of snow.

“Sit down,” he said. “I promise it won’t be weird.”

Her expression did not turn any less skeptical, but still, after a moment, she complied.

His shoulder was warm against her own, sleeveless as she was in the grey northern wilds. The wind whistled low between the trees, and the afternoon sun, shining far above, was like an ivory disc through the clouds.

A few seconds later, Fjord sighed. He said:

“This is going to be a weight off my chest.”

“Yeah, well,” Beau examined her nails, “don’t keep me waiting, then.”

He nodded.

“‘Slop-dolly’ is made up.”

There was a very long pause for silence.

Then:

“What?!”

“Gods, it feels good to finally say that.”

“Wait, wait, wait, no…no...what?! Are you being serious right now?!”

His cheeks shone bright as he grinned.

“Serious as anything. In fact, most of my idioms were complete fabrications. And the ones I did remember, I’m still not sure if I used them right.”

“But…” she stumbled, “but...you said them so confidently…”

“I know, right? It was incredible.” There was a satisfied glimmer in his eyes. “It’s a mercy we never ran into anyone from Vandren’s town, because I’m sure they would have caught me immediately. I never got a hang of his colorful sayings.”

“Yeah, but...gods, you like a fuckin’ fountain of weird noises and shit.” Beau blinked, one last time for emphasis. “You’re sure none of them were real?”

“One thousand percent. You know, I thought I’d done a good job at making up my own. Slop-dolly was just one example. Once I told someone that they were—” for a moment, his old accent resurfaced, “—slower’n molasses goin’ uphill in Misuthar.” He chuckled. “Once I told Nott that she could eat through wire to get to corn and still be hankerin’ for dinner. I mean, gods—” his oldest accent returned, “I still have no idea where either of those came from.”

Beau laughed into the cold. “That is...alright, I gotta admit, you really had us, all these months. And those sayings—” she whistled, “—damn.”

“Thank you.” He grinned. “I really did try.”

They watched the snow fall together for moment longer. Then Beau tilted her head to one side.

“Still, though, you did a pretty good job. Even if you thought you were just pretending.”

“Well, that’s likely because I found a dictionary—”

She snorted. “No, no, not that. I meant you did a good job at bein’ leader. You know. At being our captain.”

Fjord’s cheerful expression faded. His gaze drifted back towards the ground.

“Well,” he murmured. “Well, I just copied Vandren.”

She nodded along knowingly.

“You’re sayin’ that you did what he would do?”

“Pretty much.”

“So you followed his example.”

“Yes, Beau, that is what I mean.”

She leaned back and crossed her arms.

“You know,” she said, “where I come from, we also have a saying. You wanna hear it?”

“Is it real?”

“It’s an ancient proverb,” she carried on. “It goes: ‘you learned from him, you dipshit.’”

When he turned, she poked him between the eyes.

“All you’re saying sounds to me like you all that really happened is that you learned. You figured out, by yourself, how to be a good captain, but followin’ the example you were given. And maybe you didn’t realize what you were doin’, and maybe you were just copying, at first, but do you really think that none of it sunk in? That the experience didn’t help you grow?”

He blinked. He followed her hand as if he were afraid of another prodding.

“I…Beau, no, that’s not real—”

“Oh, but isn’t it? Are you sure? Can you tell me, definitively, that you didn’t learn anything? Or that you haven’t changed at all? You weren’t copying Vandren when you threw that sword, right? You weren’t copying him when you went and got Cad. And you weren’t copying him at all when you told the truth. You were talkin’ like some swanky upper-class fuck—”

“—well—”

“—okay, ignore that last part. But still.” She folded her hands together. “Still, according to you, right, you were nothin’ like him, yeah? Before you decided to adopt his persona? You were just some kid who got bullied who no one listened to, right?”

He sighed. “Ouch, but yes.”

“Yeah, well, that’s my point. Maybe before, no one ever listened. But we did, didn’t we? And I’m listenin’ now, even though you aren’t hiding behind some mask. Even though your voice is all sorts of different. And I hope you know, Fjord, that no matter what you sound like, all of us, every single one of us, we will only just keep listening. No matter what happens. That’s what friends are for.”

Her words settled in like the first grip of snow. Bright, and stark, and undeniably true.

Fjord was quiet. Then he dropped his elbows against his knees. The last imprisoned thought in his mind broke through.

“Still, I...I lied to all of you. I was pretending to be a fearless leader—”

“Oh my gods, who cares about lies?” She threw her hands into the air, scattering flakes with the force of her will. “Our whole fuckin’ group used to be made of lies! One of us would sneeze, and bam! There’s a lie! But that never really mattered! Or, if it did, it doesn’t now. We’re family now, you absolute moron. And—no, shut up, let me finish, and another thing, another thing is that you were being a fearless leader. You weren’t pretending, you were doing it. Even though we basically forced you into that spot, because none of us fuckin’ knew how to sail. Plus we did it ‘cause we’re assholes, and ‘cause we trusted you.”

She poked him one last time in the chest.

“And maybe that wasn’t fair to you, to make you do something you weren’t ready to do. But you can’t deny that you earned that trust, ‘cause we wouldn’t have done that if we didn’t. Trust you, I mean. Because...because...well, if you had just been pretending, that would’ve been one thing. Talkin’ a big game, I hate it when people do that. But you didn’t do that. You led us across the ocean, you led us into battle, and then you stood up to a fuckin’ demigod. A person pretending to be brave by throwing themselves into danger is still a person being brave, idiot. And if what you did, back then, and last night, if that ain’t bravery, then I don’t know what is.”

She crossed her arms. She stared into his eyes.

“I get...I understand that you’d want to find power. We have fucked up, dangerous life, and I’ll help you with that part, as best I can. But don’t think for a second that you’re weak. And don’t ever think you’re a liability, alright?”

She glanced back into the distance when Fjord didn’t speak.

But somehow, he didn’t think he had to. And it didn’t seem like Beau was demanding anything.

Instead the two of them just sat there, watching the snow sweep across the greying sky. The pines on the horizon quivered in the wind.

Fjord turned the dagger over in his hands. The shield was smooth against the backs of his calves, and the whip and the axe sat stoic by his feet. The glove was warm against his knees.

Beau nudged him in the shoulder.

“C’mon.” Her voice was soft in the light. “We should probably head back to the others, soon. We’ve still got a few more hours to travel, and I don’t know about you, but I could really use a warm drink. At a tavern, you know? In an actual town?”

She paused, and waited for a response.

Fjord thought about Vandren would have said.

...but what did he want to say?

“Well?” she prompted. “You with me, or not?”

He realized, a second later, that he’d always known the answer.

He smiled. His tusks poked past his lip.

“Of course,” he chuckled. “Of course. Lead the way.”

#critical role #critfic #fanfic #fic #critrole #cr2 #beauregard #fjord #hey did you guys know that i fucking love their friendship beyond anything #jay writes #text #long post #fanfiction #FJORD IS MY SON NOW THE WILDMOTHER CAN GET IN FUCKING LINE #also writing him as not yeehaw is WAY wilder than i thought it would be holy SHIT

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 5 years

Text

Jigsaw // Blue: Part Two

Jabberwocky

A/N: Moving right along with Blue- Billy learned that not all of his memories can be trusted, but one powerful one strikes through. But even as he finds answers, two questions still remain: where are you, and how did this happen?

Warning: Psychological trauma, brief mention of sexual abuse, language, another angst fest.

Word Count: 4,038

Prompt from: @its-my-little-dumpster-fire

Billy’s life had always been ruled by routine. In the home, in the military, in the workforce; there was always somewhere to be or something to do and an allotted amount of time in which to do it. It was no different in the hospital. He’d wake from dreams, covered in sweat and breathing heavily, and minutes later his door would open. If it was a therapy day, Dr. Dumont would come in, her shiny dark hair twisted into a tight bun, her face twisted up by her sugar-sweet smile. She’d undo his cuffs and they’d clang against the bedrails. He’d rub at his wrists and either sit up in the bed or drag himself to the chairs by the window- wherever Dumont decided to hold the session that day. She’d ask her questions and push his buttons, then she and her smile and her hastily scribbled notes would leave the room. Like clockwork, a nurse would come in with medications rattling in a paper cup held outstretched in a shaking hand. The meathead orderly assigned to protect the medical staff from Billy did little to assuage their fears, even though he’d never done anything threatening; it seemed that his presence alone was enough to incite an involuntary reaction.

After the medication was dispensed, the frazzled nurse would leave, practically tripping over themselves to get back to the safety of the hallway, but the orderly would stay, standing guard by the door while Billy was allowed an hour or two of “physical activity”. He’d been cleared recently to do light body weight exercises; pushups, sit ups, dips. That time slot was filled with equal parts frustration and determination as he worked daily to build back the muscle that was lost to months of atrophy. He’d roll the sleeves of his hospital issued hoodie up his scrawny forearms, and drop to the floor to exert himself to the point of fatigue. His current counts were at 24 pushups, 52 sit ups, and a whopping 13 dips- a far cry from his former physique, and while it was better than the 0, 0 and 0 that he’d been capable of when he started, the bottom line was that over the last decade or two, Billy Russo had grown accustomed to power. Feeling this weak was just as detrimental to his mental state as everything else that was working against him, and improving his stamina and rebuilding that muscle was the one thing that Dr. Dumont had suggested that he wholeheartedly agreed with.

The rest of the day was just as regimented: shower, back in the cuffs, meals, back in the cuffs, out of the bed to take a goddamn piss, back in the cuffs until morning. Lather, rinse repeat. There wasn’t a lot of wiggle room in the routine, but there was a lot of time to think. Normally he’d dissect every detail of his dreams, searching for something he recognized, something that would bring the shadows to light. Usually he’d rack his brain, pick through the shards and try to find anything that could solve the riddle of the skull. But that had taken a backseat ever since you started stumbling through his nightly visions; ever since he realized that he couldn’t trust his own memories, even the ones he felt sure of. You threw a wrench right into that routine.

It took him a full week to finally come to terms with the fact that he hadn’t taken you to the Marine Ball; to believe Dr. Dumont’s insistence that he hadn’t come back from deployment until well after the ball had come and gone. If it hadn’t been for the flash of a memory that caused him to fall out of a pushup- an incident that happened that had actually delayed his unit on that deployment rather than getting them home ahead of schedule- he’d probably still swear to himself that he could remember the way his white gloves slid over your blue dress, or the way your lips tasted like your tears. But when he relayed that vision in a session, Krista had confirmed it, showing him military records that backed it up. “So you see, Billy?” She tilted her head, that sinuous smile twisting her features, “You see? The ball...it was a dream.”

“Yeah.” He’d answered monotonously. “Yeah, doc I see.”

She nodded with what he assumed she meant to be encouragement, but just came off as condescension. “Good. I know it’s hard, but sifting through and recognizing reality is what’s going to bring all your real memories back.”

Billy’s left leg bounced erratically as he clenched and unclenched his fists. “She is a real memory,” he snarled, ignoring an itch on the bridge of his nose. “She’s real she’s...she’s somewhere and…” his nostrils flared and the sound of his breathing was amplified by the mask. He pounded his fist against his knee to stop the shaking and to prove his point. “Look I know I didn’t take her dancin’, but don’t you sit there and, and, and tell me that she’s some fuckin’...some figment of my fucked imagination, okay doc? ‘Cause…’cause I know…” his fist pounded the center of his chest. “I feel it...I know….”

“Billy,” she held one up palm facing him. “Billy, please stop that…” she tilted her head and pumped her hand in a cautious gesture, the way one might approach a rabid stray, a beast on a broken leash, something that should be put down. “Billy, I’m sorry. You’re right, she is real. She’s a real person.” He froze on her words, fist falling to his lap. “She’s real, Billy. There are photos of the two of you…”

“Lemme see.”

She shook her head slightly, not a single hair falling out of place. A flash cut through his mind, so potent that it made him wince- a clear, cloudless sky, a soft blue scarf, and your hair glinting in the sun, falling in your face. “I don’t have them with me, Billy, they’re...I have some of them in a file in my office, but-”

“Go get them.” He nodded toward the door before both hands landed on the top of his head. “Go get them. Go I wanna...I want to see them.” I want to see her.

“I don’t know if that’s the best idea, Billy, she… she seems to be a … a trigger for you, for your-”

He stood with such force that his chair fell backwards and for the first time since these little sessions started, he thought he saw a flicker of fear in her eyes. Good. “I said,” he spoke through tight teeth. “Go get the fucking pictures, Krista.”

Her hands were both up now, and she rose slowly. “Alright. Okay.” That little flicker was back under control as she raised her chin. Billy paced a few steps back and forth impatiently. “Billy?” He turned in her direction, blinking at her from behind the dark black paint he’d splattered around the eye holes in his mask. “I need you to sit back down, okay? Sit down, please, and I’ll go grab the file and the pictures, and I’ll come right back.” He watched her swallow, a lump moving down her throat. The fear might be gone from her eyes, but he could still smell it on her and it filled him with satisfaction. She’s always makin’ me talk about fear and nightmares and shit… He was glad to give her a dose of her own prescription.

He adjusted his neck and shoulders, a slight pop coming from the tension as he bent to right his chair, sitting back down in it like he had nothing but respect for proper decorum. Cracking his knuckles and working his jaw, he kept his eyes on her. “I’ll be waiting.”

She hurried to the door before regaining her composure, yanking at her skirt and running her fingers over her hair despite the fact that it was still perfectly in place. Her heels clicked down the hall until he could no longer hear them, and as soon as there was silence it was replaced by a whooshing sound as blood rushed in his ears. I knew it. I knew she...I knew it. He felt his pulse quicken at the thought of getting to see you, see your face with his eyes and not just in his head. Another flash tore through his brain, and somehow he knew what pictures Krista was about to come back with. A statue, some gibberish, your laugh as his arms came around your waist and his lips found the spot on your throat that made you gasp his name.

“Billy,” your voice hit his ear like a chime on the breeze as you twisted in his grasp to face him. The sky was clear but the early spring air was still crisp and your breath puffed out from your lips, a pink tint coloring your cheeks. You placed your hands on either side of his face and smiled at him. “Billy, there’s kids all over the place, you gotta keep it together, lieutenant.” The flicker in your eyes told him that was the last thing that you wanted- him to keep it together- that what you wanted more than anything was for him to ravish you right there in the park, take you right there in the grass to the right of the sidewalk where your feet were planted.

He shrugged. “Not my kids, not my problem.” His fingers combed your hair back from your face as he waited for your reaction.

You snorted and shook your head, reaching for his hand. “Come on, we’re not even there yet. You said I could show you my favorite part of the park. We’re almost there,” you tugged on his hand and he let you. “And then later, you can do all the things you’re thinking right now, Russo.”

“Yes Ma’am.” He answered, trying to keep his tone even and professional.

You led him a few more yards down the winding path until it opened up and a large bronze statue came into view- toadstools and a rabbit with a pocket watch, Alice holding court atop the largest mushroom, and the Mad Hatter leaning on the one directly next to her. You spread your arms wide, hand still holding his. “Ta-da!” Your grin pulled your pink cheeks up, your scarf coming untied at your dramatic gesture. “My favorite place.” Pulling him closer, you wrapped your arm around his waist. “With my favorite person.”

Billy looked over his shoulder playfully. “Someone else here I don’t know about?” When he turned back to you, you were shaking your head, a wistful look in your eyes. “What? What are you lookin’ at me like that for?”

“You know damn well what, Billy.”

The door handle turning and the click of Krista’s heels re-entering the room yanked Billy back to the present. He fought the urge to stand again, but he brought one hand up to his face and peeled the mask back, staring at the manilla folder in her hands. He tapped his thumb anxiously against his pointer finger. “I still don’t know if this is the best idea, Billy,” Dr. Dumont crossed the room slowly, fingers slipping inside the folder’s opening to rifle through the charts and notes and whatever other information she was hoarding on him. “But,” she sighed. “Maybe it will help.” She regained her position across from Billy and he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, so that there were only inches between them.

Krista opened the folder fully, flipping through the first few layers until she got to a smaller envelope. She pulled that out, shutting the folder and sticking it under her notepad. Billy watched her unwind the string that kept the envelope shut, heart pounding against his ribs. He sucked in a breath as she extracted a stack of three photos from the paper sleeve. Billy’s throat went dry and he nearly choked on a breath. Thumb and finger of his left hand still tapping together, he reached silently with his right hand, eyes trained on the photos. “Can I…” suddenly all the rage he’d felt before drained from him and it was replaced with desperation, with need. “Please…” He felt a furrow form in his scarred forehead as his mouth twitched downward.

Krista looked down at the images in her hand and then back up at Billy before handing them over carefully. “Here,” she whispered, folding her hands over the items in her lap and eyeing him quietly as he gaped at the photos in his shaking fingers.

The world spun and the air was punched from his lungs as he tried and failed to keep his eyes from watering. It’s...it’s her… she… An anguished sob fell from his lips as a sledgehammer hit his heart. His thumb brushed over the glossy print out, tracing over your face as though he could feel your skin through the photo. You were smiling, a big one, the kind that would nearly shut your eyes. Your soft lips were stained a muted pink, and one hand was raised to try to keep a breeze-blown strand of hair from getting in your mouth. You were tucked tightly against Billy’s chest, your other arm wound around his back, the pose seeming as natural, as right as anything in the world. He panned over and up a few inches to take in the image of himself- of the man he used to be. His thumb came up to block himself out, focusing only on you. He flipped to the next one- same pose, but his own fingers reached up to keep the hair from your face, closing around yours and causing your smile to change just enough to scrunch your nose a bit. He felt that hammer hit his heart again, little fissures bursting open. She’s always smilin’... He squeezed his eyes shut and felt a tear fight its way through his lashes. She’s...fuck I miss her… “Where is she?” he mumbled quietly, flipping to the next one.

“I don’t know anything damn well,” He responded, smirking down at you.

You rolled your eyes and raised on your toes to leave a quick kiss to the corner of his grin. “You got that right.” You turned toward the statue and took a few steps closer, Billy following you, hands in the pockets of his jacket. “I used to come here a lot when I was younger, you know?” You sniffed against the cold.

“Yeah?” he stepped next to you, looking down to watch your face as you told him about a piece of your past.

You nodded, reaching out to run your hands over the smooth patina of the closest toadstool. “Yeah. When I got old enough to leave home on my own? I’d come here to get away from…” Your smile became sad then, and you shook your head slightly.

Billy understood. You’d told him about your step-father; about the way he treated your mother, and the things he’d say to you as his eyes lingered a little too long on parts of you that he shouldn’t be concerned with. His arm came around you wordlessly and he tugged you closer to himself. He couldn’t protect you then, but he could now, and he vowed to himself that he would. You leaned into him, your arm going around his back, hand finding its way into his pocket, and he was struck by how good it felt to know that you trusted him, even with things like this.

You cleared your throat. “Alice had Wonderland, and I had Central Park. I had this statue. I’d come here and just...daydream. Sometimes I’d bring my sketch pad and draw.” You gave a light squeeze around his midsection before disentangling yourself from him. He dropped his arm, letting you go so that you could take another few steps before bending down to the concrete circle that ran around the edges of the whimsical sculpture. Billy kept his eyes on you, following you closely. You ran your fingers through the words that were engraved into the sidewalk and a grin came back to light your eyes. “The Jabberwocky,” you said fondly before looking up at him.

“The what?” he looked down at the ground as you sat cross-legged, and joined you after brushing some dirt away from the spot. You continued to trace the letters and he followed your fingers.

You laughed to yourself. “The Jabberwocky.” You indicated the engraved text. “It’s a poem...it’s a nonsense poem, about a monster that Alice fought on one of her adventures. All made up words...Bandersnatches and vorpal swords…” you laughed again and looked up at him. “But I loved it. I figured if Alice could slay a monster, so could I.”

Somewhere in the distance the shrieking sounds of childish delight echoed through the fields. Blue and red balloons bobbed on strings in tightly closed fists. Happy families strolled the pathways as blossoms and buds started opening on trees and shrubs. But all he could see was you. “You could. I believe it. Viper sword or not.”

“Vorpal sword,” you corrected, scooting closer.

“Whatever,” he grinned at you before standing, extending a hand to help you up. “Hey, it’s chilly, you wanna get movin’?”

“What do you remember, Billy?” Krista’s voice cut through the clear sky and pulled him back to the overwhelmingly white room.

“She, she, she took me to the statue...in,” his free hand ran over the top of his head before he dragged it down his face, fingers running through the ridges of the scars on his cheeks. “In the park. It was…” He flipped to the last photo and a weight dropped into his stomach. “It was right before I left...she wanted...wanted to show me her favorite place.”

You pulled back on his hand to get his attention. “Wait, Billy.” He turned back to you, raising one eyebrow. “Wait, I-” you dug in your pocket for your phone, unlocking the screen and opening the camera. “I want a picture of us. Here.” You waved your hand towards the sculpture, and let it fall to your side. “I… you’re leaving, Billy. In a few days and…” you bit your bottom lip. “And I want a picture, before you go.” You looked up at him pleadingly. “Okay?”

Billy felt something swim through his chest then, something he’d never felt before, and suddenly he hated the fact that he was shipping out. “Yeah. Anything you want, here…” he held his hand out for your phone, the other arm slipping around you to pull you close, more swiftly that either of you anticipated and it drew a laugh from your lips. He smiled and snapped two photos in quick succession, the sound of your laughter mixing with that new feeling in his chest. He snapped a third one, but he hadn’t noticed that you’d turned to look up at him, still looking at the camera.

“Billy,” you whispered, and he handed you back your phone, turning to face you. You took it and stuck it back in your pocket without looking at the pictures, and he noted the way your eyes swept over his face- as though you were trying to memorize every curve, every angle. “Billy, I...can you do something else for me?”

“Yeah,” he answered, tilting his head. “Yeah, I told you, anything you want.”

“This is something I need, Billy...I…” you rarely stumbled over your words, hardly ever hesitated, so he knew that this was serious. “Billy, I need you to promise you’re coming back, okay? I...I care about you, Russo. I...I need you.”

He recognized that new feeling then at your words. It was need. He needed you, too. Needed this, needed this feeling, this trust this… “I promise.” Everything else faded as he reached for you then, as his hand conformed to the back of your head, lips crashing to yours to validate the promise, to show you that he needed you just as much. You responded immediately, grabbing fistfuls of his thick hair, bending your body closer to his, pressing your chest against his own until he swore he could feel your heart beneath your scarf and your coat. He kissed you hard, but not aggressively, with urgency, but without rushing, taking his time to let his tongue explore your mouth while his lips parted to allow yours to do the same; taking his time to kiss you so thoroughly that you couldn’t possibly question how he felt and how seriously he took his promise.

As he pulled away, you gasped to catch your breath, and your tongue flicked out to wet your lips, like you were still chasing the taste of his kiss. “Wow,” you breathed, falling into him.

His arm tightened around you has his hand rubbed a small circle on your back. He dropped another kiss to the top of your head, inhaling the scent of your hair. “Yeah, wow.”

“I...I...I promised her I’d...she needs me and...I…” He stood then, but slowly this time, his chair staying put. “I told her I’d come back to her but then...I didn’t...I didn’t, did I?” He looked to Dr. Dumont for answers, eyes falling to the folder she still held. He pointed to it. “What else is in there? What else? Did I...is she...where is she?”

Krista shook her head. “These were the last photos of the two of you that she shared on her old social media accounts, Billy. It…” she shrugged. “It seems like you two broke it off while you were away. Does that...do you remember that?”

Billy sniffed, wrinkling his nose. “No.” He said it angrily, though he didn’t know who he was angry with. “No, I wouldn’t have…” He shook his head quickly in agitation. I...why would I? No. No I wouldn’t have… “No. I didn’t...I...I love her I wouldn’t… I didn’t.”

Krista sighed. “I don’t know what happened, Billy. These are the last pictures you took together.”

He pointed to the folder again, taking a step closer. “What else is in there, huh? What else does it say?” The hand he pointed with came to his head, gripping the top. Come on, fucking think...what did I...“Emails! I...I...I remember she sent me emails, while I was over there. And, and, and I...we talked on Skype sometimes. There’s...in there... you have phone records? What else is in the fucking folder, Krista?” His cheeks were wet and his bottom lip was quivering and he hated how every time a piece fell into place three more questions sprang up. “What aren’t you fucking telling me?” He caught his reflection in the window and froze. He looked crazed, like an animal. Like a monster. Like a jabberwocky.

She stood, tucking the folder and the notepad under her arm. “Billy, I think that’s enough for today.” She held her hand up again. “You’re doing really well, Billy. You’re remembering things more clearly.” A small shake of her head made his top lip curl. “I don’t want to interfere with that.” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re almost there, Billy, can’t you feel that? You’ve almost solved it.” She reached for his arm and placed her hand there. He yanked it away as though she’d touched him with a hot poker, but it didn’t seem to phase her, that stubborn fearlessness back now that he was drowning in questions again; now that she had him on the ropes once more. “Hold on to those pictures if you want, if you think it will help.” Of course I want them...of course it helps… “I’ll see you in two days, Billy.”

With that she was gone and he was left with the photos in his hand and his reflection in the window. He walked over to it, looking down at the world 18 stories below; at the streets he used to walk through with you. What fuckling happened...how...how did this happen to me?

@something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @suchatinyinfinity @lexxierave @thebbtongue @thesumofmychoices @gollyderek @zaffrenotes @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @lysawayne @audreychaz @roses-in-your-country-house @traeumerinwitzhelden @luminex3 @songtoyou @songforhema @ymariejp @belladonnarey @breanime @stories-you-wont-hear

#billy russo #Blue #blue part two #jabberwocky #billy russo x you #billy russo x reader #the punisher fanfiction #billy russo fic #jigsaw #fuck off krista #alice in wonderland #central park #billy smooches #a kiss on the sidewalk #ugh i hate this

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babbushka · 4 years

Text

Two’s Company (Ch 5 Sneak Peek)

Pale (Burn This) x Reader

3k ; Warnings: NSFW

It’s mesmerizing, seeing him like this. You’d seen him in all kinds of ways – seen him at home, seen him in the concert halls, seen him preforming. But you ain’t never seen him like this.

It’s somethin’, watching Pale work. You knew he worked hard of course, everyone knew that, everyone who took one look at him knew that. But you’d never actually seen him work, never seen him in the full swing of things like this, not like this. He was stormin’ all over the fucking place, not even realizing that he’s storming, you didn’t think. He just had that presence to him, that aura about him – that don’t fuck with me or I’ll break your legs kind of vibe.

You almost spilled your coffee a coupla’ times because of it.

Well maybe you almost spilled your coffee a coupla’ time’s because of the way he had taken off his fancy silk shirt and suit jacket, revealing a black tank top underneath that showed off his arms so nice and good that you wanted to reach through the order window and give his biceps a squeeze.

You’d seen him in the kitchen before of course, he cooked all the fuckin’ time for you at home, but this was different. Here it was like his need to show off was multiplied ten times, and damn, did he. Smoking cigarette after cigarette through the breakfast rush, workin’ hard as he could to get all the orders just right, just perfect.

You knew he knew he wasn’t no Fish, not really, and when Fish came back to work tomorrow you were sure there’d be folks who’d be thrilled – because let’s face it, even Pale’s best just wasn’t what some of these regulars were used to but damn, his best was pretty good.

It was almost surreal, walkin’ up to the order window and seein’ your man on the other side. He’d only be in the kitchen for breakfast and you knew that, knew he’d be going back to the office once the rush was over and the cook could take full control of the kitchen again. But for now, you and a couple of the other waitresses walked up to the counter when he dinged the little bell, and it put a real big smile on your face to see Pale there.

“Alright I gotta Adam and Eve on a log for table ten and an Adam and Eve on a wrecked raft for table seven and don’t you dare fuckin’ mix ‘em up.” He snapped at the kid, Jess, who worked the morning shifts with you sometimes if she didn’t have any college classes in the morning.

Jess only rolled her eyes and grabbed the plates, careful not to mix them up, and you occupied the little space that she had freed up to pass a new order ticket to Pale. It was for one of the truck drivers who came in all the time, he only ever ate a huge breakfast in the morning, and then a big dinner real late at night, so it had to be done the right way, and you tell Pale as much.

“Hi honey, got a bean buster over at booth eleven and he’s real particular about how he likes his steak so please just, for the love of god make sure it’s rare?” You said soft enough that the trucker couldn’t hear you, not that he really would even if you shouted it out, just because of how packed the place was and all the clinking clanking clanging of everyone eating and enjoying their food.

“Black and blue comin’ up – hey,” Pale said, reaching through the window and grabbing your wrist when you slide him the ticket, pulling you a little closer and suckin’ down some nicotine as he asked, “Gimmie a kiss?”

You laugh and pluck the cigarette out from between his teeth before giving him a quick smack of your lips on his. He watched you walk away until you were officially out of his line of sight, back behind the milkshake bar makin’ egg creams.

Pale’s massive, you think. Absolutely fuckin’ huge, but there’s a sort of bull-in-the-china-shop kind of grace about it. He spent most of his time in the mornin’ doing the breakfast rush alongside the cook, the guy that worked the night shifts and who also got brought in when Fish wasn’t feelin’ too hot. You almost wanted to feel sorry for Pale, because breakfast rush was some fuckin’ nightmare sometimes, but he handled it with as much ease as Fish did, and you were impressed.

Like when some random guy – not a regular or at least not one you recognized – was yelling at that poor college kid Jess, for something that ain’t even her fault. You heard the commotion seemingly right as it happened, but so did Pale. He must have, because he was approachin’ the table cool as a cucumber, his silk shirt back on and tucked into his pleated trousers, big suit jacket makin’ his broad shoulders look even more broad.

You were almost worried that he’d start yellin’ right away, that he’d get into a fight or some shit like that. Not anything mean by it, but you knew your man, you knew your Pale. He was a hot headed kinda guy when it came to some shit, and you were fully prepared to step in if necessary.

So he surprised and impressed you when he was nothin’ but calm.

“There a problem over here?” He asked, hands on his hips just in that way that men in charge liked to stand.

And boy, was your man a man in charge.

The guy takes one look at Pale, and it’s like he can see his whole fucking life flash before his eyes. He immediately regrets raising his voice at Jess, immediately regrets causing a scene at all, and Pale gives him good reason to. He could so easily pick the guy up and physically throw him out of the diner, could snap him in two if he wanted.

You have to bite your lip at the thought, and Pale caught that look of yours from the corner of his eye, smirked a little to himself, too smug about how wet he makes you. But fuck, you’re wet, and it’s all you can do to just stand there and pour some coffee and force yourself not to whine to be fucked.

“I’m sorry I hate to complain, I really do, but there ain’t no salt on these hashbrowns, and there ain’t no salt in my shaker, I think somebody forgot to fill ‘em up or somethin’?” The guy says eventually, when he realizes that there ain’t no winning a fight against Pale, and Pale picks up the little salt shaker that’s definitely not empty, inspects it for a minute.

“Here’s what I’m gonna do, I’m gonna have ‘em remake the whole fuckin’ thing for ya, okay? No charge no nothin’, and I’m gonna see what’s goin’ on about this here salt shit. But don’t you ever fuckin’ yell at one of the these girls again, you got that? I catch you yellin’ at any of them and I’ll serve you shit from the dumpster outside – you got that?” He stared the guy down, who gulped and nodded. “My girl (Y/N) will take real good care of ya, won’t you honey?”

Pale looked at you, beckoned you over. You went easily, and he handed you the little salt shaker that’s just about half full, the top only a little clogged.

But while he had you within reach, he pulled you a little closer, and a little closer still – and even a little closer still, until he had a handful of your ass and was kneading it in his big hand right there in front of everyone. Not that anyone was really paying attention.

“You bet, I’m real sorry we ain’t ever outta salt, here’s a new one I’ll go refill this myself.” You said breathlessly, chewing the inside of your cheek and pressing your thighs together from the feeling of Pale’s hand on your body, you’re barely able to ask, “Can I get you anything while you wait?”

“Nah that’s okay, thank you really – wait can I have some coffee?” The guy, who clearly sees what’s going on, ducked his head in embarrassment for making a scene about some shit that ain’t even that big of a deal.

You poured him some coffee, and then went in the back storage room, to “fill up the salt.”

It took maybe two seconds, before Pale was comin’ in up behind you.

The storage room was small, not much to really store, when so much of the produce and meats and shit came from local suppliers around the town. Fish was real big on that, and it was something Pale appreciated the fuck outta him for – quality ingredients from local places.

But Fish wasn’t there today, and you took the opportunity of Pale’s managerial position to bend yourself over one of the big storage boxes and hike up your uniform skirt without even so much as a second glance.

“God damn you’re sexy when you work, you know that? I tell you that enough? I should, fuck remember back in the day when I would come and sit here and jerk off to you pourin’ that coffee? Fuck.” Pale’s already undoing the belt buckle of his trousers, already yanking his shirt out from where it was tucked in real nice.

“I didn’t know you jerked off!” You gasped when you felt the cool air of the storage room hit your bare ass, as Pale slid your panties down your legs to hang around your knees.

He kicked your feet apart with those fancy fuckin’ boots of his, freed his cock and rubbed the head of it through your folds which were dripping from a mix of his old come from earlier in the morning, and your fresh slick from watching him be so fucking hot.

“Of course I did, and now look, now look at the two of us, jerkin’ off together.” He slid his cock through your pussy some more before finally nudging his cock properly inside you, filling that aching emptiness that had been making you weak all morning.

“Pale it ain’t jerkin’ off if we’re together.” You couldn’t help but laugh a little, until your laughs dissolved into moans from the way he rolled his hips flush against your ass, pressed you down a little further onto the storage boxes.

“Bullshit, your pussy’s jerkin’ me off – it counts.” He grunted groaned growled in your ear as he draped himself over your back, hands bruising on your hips.

“C’mon fuck me, we gotta be fast there’s people out there waitin’ for us and shit.” You swallowed down all the drool that kept threatening to slide out of your mouth, and Pale only grunted some more as he sped his hips up, built a pace that was brutal, skin slapping hard against skin.

“They can keep waiting, god you’re so fuckin’ good, this pussy’s so good.” He breathed, “All for me, my fuckin’ cunt to have whenever I want it, you like that? You like gettin’ fucked at work like this? Maybe I should come run the place more often, let Fish’s nephew take over the one in the city more often, come and fuck you here in this little room more often.”

Your eyes rolled back into your head and your toes curled in your pretty new heels as your pussy got pounded, the thick squelch of it music to your ears. His cock was so firm inside you, so fuckin’ hard, rock hard, and it speared into you searching for your gspot. You knew he liked to milk your pleasure for as long as he could, but the two of yous really didn’t have the time to spare – so when he found it he dropped a hand to your clit and rolled that at the same time as he thrusted against your walls.

“Pale – yes honey – oh fuck yes, yes please – faster,” You gasped, your eyes flying open and your thighs shaking shaking shaking as he fit inside you so perfectly.

“Shh, shh sweetheart be good for me, be a good girl and suck.” He shoved his free hand into your mouth, gags you on his fingers while he rams into you hard and dirty, shaking the walls of the storage room and threatening to knock down the boxes and bins from the force of his thrusts.

You came together, the both of you cursing low and long as your bodies shook together, his cock still thrusting in and out of you just because he could, because he had to. But this was only a quickie, only a little stolen moment in the storage room, and when he pulls out of your cunt he stuffs those slicked up fingers back inside you, pushes all his come that starts to leak out right back into your pretty pussy, slides your panties back into place and watched hungrily as the fabric began to darken.

“Back to work.” You sighed dreamily, making him just chuckle and smack your ass a little.

And it was, back to work. Back to him showin’ off and impressing you.

It wasn’t just you who he impressed, neither. All the regulars at one point or another pulled you aside gently, like one of them, a nice elderly lady with blue hair and huge rimmed glasses, was doin’ now.

“(Y/N) sweetheart who is that man?” Her deep voice is like velvet as she holds out her mug of coffee kindly.

Stevie had been coming to the diner way before you were born, you’re sure of it. But ever since your first day, she had always been there to support you and be patient with you while you were learning the ropes. Not many people gave you that kinda kindness out there in a dog eat dog world, but Stevie came from the life of showgirls and pageants and drag queens, and she knew how far a little kindness could go when you were new at somethin’.

She didn’t do much preforming anymore, content instead to be surrounded by handsome men and live a life of quiet luxury, but still she came into the diner for a cup of coffee and to do the daily New York Times crossword on the newspaper Fish never finished.

“Which, the guy doin’ the shoutin’, or the guy gettin’ shouted at?” You teased, filling the mug up with enough room for her to daintily pour in however much cream and sugar she’s feeling in the mood for that morning.

“Shoutin’, the big guy, the one in the tank top.” She appraised the big guy from over the rim of her mug, and you grinned, your heart filling with pride.

“That’s my Pale.” You said happily, watching him bitch and shout at someone for fucking something up. You didn’t know what it was, you hadn’t really been paying attention, still too high on your own bliss from his cock.

“He new around here?” Stevie asked and you waved the idea away.

“Nah, he manages the diner in the city, the one we just opened up ‘bout a year ago or so.” You explained, making her eyebrows raise over her glasses.

“No kidding! Well next time I make a run into town I’ll be sure to stop by.” She winked, and you grinned, shook your head at her unashamed attitude. You loved and respected that about her, how someone of her age was still going strong, still getting laid.

“He’s so handsome, ain’t he?” You found yourself sighing, watching him get red-faced from shoutin’ and strikin’ up a cigarette, angrily suckin’ it down.

What a guy, you couldn’t help but think.

“Yeah, he really is. You’re a very lucky lady, (Y/N), he reminds me of the nice young men I used to meet down at Fire Island.” Stevie poured the sugar and cream into her coffee with a wistful sort of smile, making you frown the smallest bit.

“What do you mean ‘used to’, Stevie I know you’re still down there gettin’ your kicks, ain’t ya?” You asked, hoping that everything was alright.

“Oh believe me, I try.” She scoffed, “But you know how it is these days, what with…the whole thing that’s goin’ on.”

You think of Robbie, think of so many others, who would end up the same way. Your heart breaks to think of Stevie ending that way too.

“Yeah.” You say softly, with understanding, with empathy. You know, and it weighs heavy on your heart, but you put on a smile anyway, not wanting to get yourself upset, not now.

“Scary times we live in. I’m just grateful to wake up and see the sun shine another day, frankly.” Stevie brightened the mood back up, and you’re grateful for it.

“I’m grateful you do wake up, and I’m grateful you come here, and every day when you do, I’ll be here to serve you coffee, okay?” You winked, topped off the mug when she took a sip.

Just then, the little bell on the front door chimed, and you don’t bother to look over your shoulder just yet to see who it is. The breakfast rush had begun to die down, so you knew there would be a table or two open for whoever it was, depending on how many people they brought with them – and anyway you were with someone.

“Just a second!” You called out, just to make sure they didn’t feel ignored or neglected.

“Do I seat myself or what?” The woman at the door asked, and your blood ran cold, because you recognized that voice.

After just one meeting with the bitch, you recognized her voice.

Slowly, you schooled your face into a neutral expression, and turned to face her – Barbie.

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Full chapter coming tomorrow!!! Tagging some Pale loving pals!

@fullofbees @dreamboatdriver @thecurlycaptain @bourbonboredom @driverficarchive @rosalynbair @redhairedfeistynerd @glitzescape @adamsnacc-kler @kyloxfem @fallin-for-youreyes @attorneyl @jedihbic @bens-rose @formerly-anonhamster @thepilotanon @hippieface @tinyplanet-explorers @satansstrawberry @oberynmartell @whiskey-bumblebee @helloimindelaware @ah-callie @proxyfoxy @theold-ultraviolence @ktellmeastory @emily-strange @anongirl007 @zimmerxman @okk--maaan @autumnlovesadam @solotriplets @flapjacques @hidingp @goodboybensolo @dearestalladay @the-marvelatic @miasera @kylo-ben-ren-solo @hazydespair

#pale x reader #kylo ren x reader #pale burn this #burn this broadway #adam driver character #adam driver pale #pale fanfic #pale imagine #pale smut #sneak peek #my writing

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disasterdeacy · 5 years

Text

Never In My Wildest Dreams

A/N: Here is a continuation of Some Day One Day and also a request from @mariekuuuuuh who requested some domestic Bri fluff! I’m sorry if this isn’t what you had in mind, but I got a bit carried away lol. There is no smut in this part, but I do have a good bit of smut written that accompanies this, so if you would like me to post a second part with smut, just let me know!!! Title comes from the Dan Auerbach song, it’s hella underrated and the only thing I could think of to name it lol. Summary: Y/N has been having a rather shitty week, feeling sick, tired, and just all around crappy. Arriving home from work, she wants nothing more than to curl up next to Brian and sleep.... Life, however, has other plans. Word Count: 7k Pairing: Present Day Brian May x Young!Reader Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Pregnancy, General Issues With Mortality, Age Gap, Mentions of Hospitals

Walking through the front door of your and Bri’s Chelsea home, a groan of relief left your mouth at the smell of dinner cooking. You absolutely loved being Brian’s wife and making him dinner every night, but you were absolutely exhausted, and had no idea why.. Work hadn’t been anymore stressful than usual, you were sleeping extremely well, eating healthy, taking your vitamins... and yet somehow were still absolutely KNACKERED.

Sitting your purse down on the foyer table, you kick off your heels and pad to the kitchen, smiling widely at the sight of your husband. Brian was stood in front of the stove, your favorite GBBO apron, that Noel Fielding had nicked for you after you’d met him at the BRIT awards and told him of how much you loved the show, tied around his waist over a black button up and matching trousers. His hips were moving to the beat of ABBA, as he tasted a bit of whatever was in the main pot, nodding his head in approval at the taste.

You didn’t know how you’d managed to get so lucky. He knew how insanely tired you were, and had actually told you to go to the doctor to get tested, although you’d adamantly refused, telling him that you were 100% fine, and that he had nothing to worry about. He didn't believe you in the slightest, but, you were a grown woman and he wasn't about to infringe on your right to be a stubborn idiot. You quietly make your way over to him, admiring the way his ass looked in the right black trousers, before slipping your arms around his waist, laughing loudly as he squealed and jumped around, eyes wide.

"Sorry love, I couldn’t help it!" You grin into the kiss he places on your lips, reaching around to squeeze his ass before turning my attention to the various pots on the stove.

"Whatcha makin?" Brian smiles down at you, curling your hair behind your ear.

"Chicken soup, love. You said you haven’t been feeling well, and it always helps me. It’s my mum’s recipe. Technically." He winks at you

"It has a few key ingredient changes." He loved his mum’s cooking, but he had to make almost every single one meatless. Taking a moment to wrap his arms around you, Brian smiles and leans his forehead down to rest against yours.

"How have you been?" Sighing, you lean forward a little, pressing a kiss to Brian's nose.

"I’m feeling a bit better, still a little drained, but better."

It's a lie, which Brian seemed to notice right away, based on the look he sends you. Sighing, you throw your head back, his arms tightening to keep you upright.

"Well alright love, if you must know I’m absolutely fucking exhausted, and can almost fainted on the Central Line earlier." Brian gapes at you, his hazel eyes widening as he takes in the severity of your words.

"Y/N! Darling, why haven’t you gone to the doctor? You really need to, especially if you’re feeling faint! Why didn’t you call me?" He leads you to a nearby chair, making you sit down, obviously concerned for you.

You roll your eyes playfully at his concern , but your heart was swelling at the same time from it.

"Bri, love I’m okay I swear! It’s probably nothing, I promise. If anything else happens I’ll go okay?"

He didn’t seem pleased with your answer, his eyebrows raised, a frown on his, but before he could retort, you take his hands in your own, bringing them to your lips to place a few reassuring kisses to.

"Go finish up my soup and stop your worrying Doctor May, I need some warm liquid ASAP." Laughing at your innuendo, he rolled his eyes and returned to the stove giving you a pointed look before he turned his back, a quiet sigh of relief falling from your lips.

You were feeling a little worse than you had when you had walked through the door, the usually incredible smell of Brian’s cooking making you sick to your stomach, but you definitely couldn’t let him see that.. Usually you never got sick, but this had been going on for weeks now, the exhaustion, nausea.. the whole thing was worrying you, and obviously worrying Brian. Feeling the bile rise in the back of your throat, you quickly slide from the chair, legs scraping across the tile floor as you rushed to get up, hand over your mouth.

"I gotta go to the bathroom love... "

Running as fast as you could up the stairs, you fall to your knees on the floor, not even bothering to close the door behind you before you lurch over the toilet, heaving up the sparce contents of your stomach. God, you hadn’t puked like this in years, not sense a bad run in with appendicitis in college. Your head was pounding, limbs weak, something was genuinely so wrong, and you needed Brian, maybe even a trip to the hospital. Pushing yourself away from the toilet, you crawl to the door, weakly crying out for Brian before darkness washed over you completely.

Brian was initially worried when you all but sprinted out of the kitchen, and he quickly stirred the soup before putting it on a different burner and turning it on low. Turning off the previously used burner, he takes off his apron and scrubs his hands as fast as he could. He knew you hated when he worried but he just.... had a bad feeling.

So, despite his own chastising himself, he followed you upstairs, calling out your name gently. When you didn’t answer his knocking, he sighed and pulled open the door, but upon eeing your unconscious form on the floor, his stomach dropped, nausea over taking him. The absolute worst case scenario was filling his head, and he was already dialing 999 before his knees hit the floor beside you and somehow directing emergency services to your home. He didn’t know what to do; was nearly scared to move you, so he just stroked your hair, making sure you were laying on your side, talking to you—begging you to wake up, to be okay; assuring you that help was coming.

By the time EMS get there, Brian is a complete wreck, absolutely terrified. He couldn’t lose you—Jesus, he couldn’t lose you. He couldn’t keep losing the most important people in his life! He rides along in the ambulance, bitching at the EMS workers when they insist on putting a heart monitor on him. Feeling empty when they make him stay behind while they whisk you away at the hospital, he sits heavily into a chair in the waiting room, still attached to the heart monitor the EMS had managed to attach to him.

God, he had never been this scared in his entire life, seeing you lying on the floor, pale, sickly, and completely defenseless... It tore his heart from his chest. Brian knew he didn't need to be alone through this, knew he needed someone with him to lean on, so with shaky hands, he pulls out his phone, and after giving Roger the scare of his life, slumps into the chair, tears falling freely from his tired hazel eyes. Groaning a bit as you came to, you attempted to open your eyes, quickly closing them when they were assaulted by the bright lights above you.

Your whole body felt like it was on fire, your head was pounding, and if that damn beeping didn’t stop within the next 5 seconds, you were going to rip your ears out. ‘God, what happened? Where was I?' was all that was running through your head. The last thing that you remembered was crawling to the door in the bathroom, calling out for Brian, and then all of a sudden you were waking up in place surrounded by a smell you knew all too well, thanks to your proclivity for childhood injury.

You were in the hospital. Swallowing the bile that had risen in the back of your throat, you attempted to sit up, only to have a nurse gently push you back onto the bed, saying that you needed to rest, because they were running a few tests to figure out why you had fainted. Your mind was immediately swirling with the worst possible results. Cancer? Heart attack? Everything that ran through your head was nothing sort of nauseating. The nurse must have seen your face turn green, and swiftly handed you a bedpan, rubbing your back as you visited.

Tears were running down my face as the nurse handed me some ice chips, throwing the bedpan in the medical waste bin. Brian... You needed Brian. You were so weak, everything hurting, your nerves frayed, and the only person who could make you feel any semblance of normalcy was Brian. Glancing up at the nurse through teary eyes, you open your mouth to speak for the first time.

"Where’s my husband? C-can I please see him? I-I need him, please."

The kind nurse smiled, squeezing your hand and telling you that she would go get him. Thanking her weakly, you fall back into the bed, tears falling freely when Brian all but ran into the room.

Brian had been sat with Roger’s arm around his shoulders when the nurse comes out to get him. He stands, wobbling a little on his feet, Roger stands too, making sure Brian doesn’t fall over

"How is she? Is she alright? Please, is she okay?"

His voice is shaking as he speaks, and he wants to sob when the nurse tells him you’re awake and asking for him. He spares a look at Roger, but Rog just shoos him off, telling him to go. So Brian follows the nurse, bursting through the door to your room and all but collapsing in the chair by your bed, his hands reaching for you. He’s trying to keep a brave face, but he knows he’s failing as he cradled your face in his hands, looking you over frantically.

"Y-You really scared me, love. God, I thought—I didn’t know—"

He shuts his mouth, reaching for your hand without the IV and pressed a kiss to the back of it

"I love you Y/N. I love you so much."

Brian's voice hitches with nearly every word, and he desperately tries to reign in his emotions, to no avail. Seeing Brian so emotional, his hands shaking as he grasped your hand, it was too much, and the dam that you had been desperately trying to suppress just breaks, sobs wracking your whole body.

"Oh god, Brian, I’m so scared, I’m so- oh god Bri."

Brian looked absolutely terrified as well, his eyes red rimmed, his breathing shallow, but he just held you, climbing into the bed and wrapping his arms around you, placing kisses into your hair as he whispered words of comfort. You wanted to be optimistic, to think that everything would be okay, but given the present circumstances coupled with your exhaustion, you couldn't help but think the worst.

"Bri, what if... what if it’s ca-"

The words wouldn't even come out, the fear of the disease that almost killed your grandmother overtaking my body as Brian holds you tighter, lips against your hair as he attempts to console you.

"Shhh, Anna, it’s not that. It won’t be that. It’s going to be alright, love. There are so many other things it could be."

His mind is racing, trying to come up with anything to distract you.

"I mean—Roger was just telling me that TigerLily has an electrolyte imbalance that makes her sick in the exact same way! It went undiagnosed for a long time, but now she just watches her intake and she’s fine! So let’s just—just wait for the tests to come back before we prepare for the end of the world, hmm?"

Pressing a kiss to your hair, he sighs a bit, the action shaky.

"It’s okay, love, I’m here. I’m going to take care of you."

The words are quiet, but he means them, and he knows you know it too. The two of you lay there for what feels like ages, wrapped in one another's arms, but is probably only ten minutes or so before a nurse comes in the room, a doctor got on her trails. Their entrance causes Brian to hold out of the bed, scrambling to his feet in an attempt to get to the doctor to find out what's happened, what was wrong with you. He just wanted to know that you were okay, and the doctor simply smiles at the two of you, introducing herself before walking to stand by your side, Brian and the nurse following behind her.

"Well, Mrs May.. your test results came back perfectly normal, save for one. But, this result explains all of your symptoms."

She pauses for a moment, flipping the sheet. You were about to throw up when she smiles you. ‘An odd reaction from a doctor when reading test results’ I thought.,

"Congratulations are in order you two. Mrs. May, you’re pregnant. About 10 weeks I’d say."

Brian blinks, staring at the Dr. in complete shock. It’s like he barely comprehends what she’s said, his brows furrowing.

"I’m—I’m sorry, what?"

She repeats herself, laughing a bit at his reaction as Brian hakes his head, blood pounding in his ears.

He looks down at you, white as a sheet. It was the last thing he was expecting, a complete shock. It wasn’t that it was a bad thing! Actually, it was the furthest thing from it. He just, well—he was 71. He hadn’t been sure it would even be POSSIBLE for them to get pregnant, and it’s not like they’d been TRYING. He runs a hand through his unruly curls, his other arm still wrapped around you. A baby. Oh my god, a BABY.

"You’re pregnant... "

His voice is little more than a whisper, trying to get the idea in his head. You couldn’t focus on anything except for the feeling of Brian’s arm around you, his gentle voice filling your ears.

"B-baby? I-I’m having a baby?"

You weren't upset about it, you were absolutely overjoyed! You and Brian had been discussing having children together since the night he made drunk you brownies almost 2 years ago. The two of you knew it’s what you wanted, but you weren’t exactly making an attempt to have them.

Brian had been worried in the past when you'd discussed it, citing that being his age and having a baby would be a bit... strange. He’d been a great dad to Jimmy, Louisa, and Emily, and an even better granddad, but you knew that he was still concerned at having to learn how to be the father of a newborn all over again. The doctor smiles again, shaking her head slightly.

"Babies Mrs. May, your sonar shows you’re having twins."

Brian feels very faint, and hears himself say so, the words leaving his mouth before he can think. The nurse immediately has him sit back in the chair, getting him a cold pack to put on his forehead. He looks over at you in complete disbelief; you have the same sort of look on your face. He realizes he should probably try to say SOMETHING to make it less awkward, but all he manages is.

"Well I... I guess everything works, huh?"

You can't help but burst out laughing at Brian’s words, initial concern for his well being flying out the window. Only he could make a situation as insane as this one somehow funny. Still laughing, you reach over and grab his hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

"A little too well, I'd say. "

The nurse and doctor are laughing as well as they leave the room, saying that they would like to keep you overnight to get your fluids back up. You and Brian manage a word of thanks as they leave, still shaking with laughter and disbelief at what you'd just been told.

"God Brian.. twins.. y-you.. we're having two babies.."

You looked over at Brian as you spoke, taking his hand before your eyes widen in concern at his appearance. He looked pale, hands still shaking. You knew deep down that he wasn't upset, that he was just in shock, but you had to ask, to make sure Brian was as equally excited as you. Squeezing his hand again, you raise up in the bed just enough to properly sit face to face with him.

"Bri, you-you’re not mad are you?"

His head shoots up to look at you, hazel eyes wide. He reaches for your hands quickly, concerned as he presses a kiss to your palm.

"No! No, Y/N, love, why would you think that? No darling I could never be mad at yiy , especially over something like this.., I’m... I’m excited! I’m just.... terrified?"

He nods to himself, huffing out a laugh.

"Yeah. Absolutely terrified. And.... surprised, I guess. Really surprised. I didn’t know—I mean we weren’t sure, "

He stops talking, knowing he was just reiterating what had just been said.

"..... Two babies, Y/N! "

Bringing his hands to your lips, you nod at him, smiling into the light kisses you were placing on his hands.

"Yeah love, two babies.."

Your eyes start to tear up, happiness bubbling up and out.

"I’m.. I’m gonna be a mom! Brian, oh my god you’ve made me a mom!"

Before you'd met Bri you were positive that you didn’t want kids, but then you met him and it was like your whole perspective on life changed. Then there was his worrying that it wouldn’t happen, and you finally accepted that you would never be a mom. And you were genuinely okay with that fact, you had everything you'd ever wanted in Brian, but now? This was happiness like you'd never known.

Brian breaks out into a smile at your excitement. No matter how many worries or concerns he had.... he just wanted you to be happy. He always wanted you to be happy. He laughs a bit, leaning forward to kiss you deeply.

"I think it’s all you, Love, "

He pauses, his throat growing thick with emotion,

"You’re going to be an amazing mum. God, I love you so much. And I love our little babies already."

He laughs a bit, teary eyed, and presses a wet kiss to your lips before sighing and standing up, smiling down at your confused look.

"I guess I should go tell Rog he can go home."

You look up at him surprised and he grins, looking a bit bashful as he runs his neck.

"I uh, was kind of freaking out earlier. He’s sitting in the waiting room.. "

Your eyes widen at his confession, he's called Roger? Not that you were surprised, Rog was always the first person that Bri called in a situation like this, you were just worried for him, you'd not even thought about how your spell had affected Brian, and you knew he wouldn't want you to either.

"Bri, are you sure you’re okay? God babe, I didn’t mean to scare you so bad, I’m so sorry."

He only smiles down at you , pressing a kiss to your forehead in reassurance, lips migrating further south to take your ear in his mouth, teeth grazing it just enough to make you giggle. Laughing as you do so, you push Bri away and towards the door, smacking his ass as he stumbles away.

"Go tell Rog that I’m not dying, just that your sperm is a little too potent."

He's still vividly blushing when he reached the waiting room, both Roger, Sarina, AND Tigerlily were standing there, eyes wide and full of questuons. Brian is a bit meek, voice soft when he tells them it wasn’t exactly bad news. Roger makes a HUGE scene of course, whooping and hollering, and teasing him. Sarina and Tigerlily are just as excited, just a bit more reserved about it. Tigerlily was already asking if she could tell her siblings, her eyes bright.

Brian is a bit overwhelmed, and doesn’t quite know what all to say to any of them. Luckily Sarina gets Roger to calm down, and the blonde man decides that the Mays should have some space. They give a confused Brian a bag of food, Tigerlily explains that food was a necessity for you to feel better, and that sure, maybe ramen wasn't the healthiest call, but it was your favorite, and that's all that mattered.

Brian wraps the young woman in a big hug, smiling widely as the whole Taylor family leaves, shaking his head as he returns to your room.

"Alright so, I’m not sure, but the entire Taylor clan might know about this by the end of the day. Not much I can do."

You laugh, and he relaxes a little bit, going to sit beside you again.

"How are you feeling now? Hungry? Because your friends certainly went all in for you."

Happily taking the bag from Brian, your stomach rumbles as you smell the ramen inside. Whatever drugs were being pumped into your body through the IV were doing the lord’s work, because you felt immensely better than you had a few hours earlier, and your appetite was back in full force. Opening the bowl you groaned, god Lily knew you so well. Brian laughed as you dug into the ramen.

"The Taylor clan can tell the whole damn world if they keep bringing me food like this."

The broth was warming you from the inside out, the noodles and bamboo root hitting the spot and filling your previously empty stomach. Brian simply watches you eat, a dopey smile on his face. After you finish, Brian took the trash and dumped it in the recycling bin outside, smiling as you make room for him in the bed, patting the space beside you. His smile widens and he crawls in beside you, your body curling into him, head resting against his neck. It was silent for a while, Brian holding you, randomly placing kisses into your hair. Lying there you allowed your thoughts to wander to what Brian had said, about how the Taylor clan was going to spread the news like bonfire. Tightening your hold around Brian's waist, you sigh, mind wandering.

"Bri, we have to discuss how to break the news to everyone.."

Brian hummed in agreement, murmuring into your hair

"Well, do you want to wait until the three month mark? Isn’t that usually what’s done? And then we can... we can announce it however we like. It doesn’t have to be fancy if you don’t want it to be. I’ll do whatever is best for you."

He smiles a little, biting his bottom lip to try and tame it, not wanting to seem TOO eager.

"I’m excited, I think. I mean, I AM excited. It just had to... settle in. I mean, I’ll spread the news all over Instagram if you want me to, "

He chuckles to himself, arms tightening around you.

"I think the majority will be thrilled."

Seeing him so happy made you happier than you'd ever thought possible, and you knew he’d been worried about being able to have children with you, but he never let it show, never made it obvious. But, he didn’t know that you'd heard him crying countless times while watching videos of babies, videos of you with his youngest grand kids.. he wanted to have a baby with you so badly, and now, now the two of you were having two when you didn’t think that just one would be possible..

Nodding into his chest you showed him that you knew he was right, waiting another 2 weeks to publicly announce the pregnancy was the best thing to do. For now, you’d keep it between you and your families and friends, just basking in the fact that you were going to be parents. But, agreeing to hold off on the announcement didn't mean you couldn't imagine it. Chuckling a little, you sit up, resting your head on your hands on top of his chest.

"Can we please do a really cute announcement on Instagram? Like, something that’ll make everyone cry? Because, personally I want to see everyone cry. "

Brian laughed loudly at your words, squeezing you tighter as you joined him, unable to keep your smile from pulling at your lips. Reaching down to touch your stomach, the first time you’d done it since being told you were pregnant. Your stomach was still relatively flat, well not exactly flat, it never had been, but normal, and yet, in a few weeks you would start showing and there would be no going back, well technically there was no going back now, but it almost didn't feel as if this whole situation would be real until you could see it for yourself. Sighing in contentment, you press kiss to Brian’s chest as he reaches down to touch your stomach as well, tears welling in his eyes.

"I didn’t know it was possible to love you even more than I already did when I left home this morning, and yet here we are."

He chuckles through his tears, rubbing your tummy gently, just thinking about how there were two little lives growing there, lives that the two of you had made!

"I feel the same way, truly."

He snuggles with you, considering the other things you’d said

"Of course we’ll make a big public to-do about it, love. We’ll work together to make it the most tear inducing announcement the world has ever seen."

Laughing a little, he shakes his head in thought.

"Freddie was always good at things like that. Maybe he’s rubbed off on me. And, well, Rog is quite good at being dramatic as well. So things seem promising."

He's teasing, but still serious, getting more excited the more he talks.

"Oh, Anne will be absolutely over the moon! Get ready for tons of baby clothes from her."

You smiled at Bri’s mentioning of Freddie, he rarely did that, and when he did, it was because he was beyond happy, and after the past few years you’d had, seeing him so insanely happy was all that mattered.

"Do you think Fred would like me? Like, would he approve of me for you?"

You knew it was insane to ask, but you really wanted to know. Freddie was such an important and integral part of his life, and you just... needed to know..

Brian was a bit thrown by your question- surprised by it. You'd never really asked about Freddie. Not so forward, at least. Brian didn't blame you; he didn't talk about Freddie all the time. Not that he didn't think about his friend every day, it just... hurt. Still. He figured it always would. He supposed he hadn't exactly given you a lot of guidance on how to handle the subject.

"Of course he'd like you."

His voice is soft as he considers his words. There's a pause, and he huffs out a quiet laugh.

"He'd probably tell me you're the only one that actually makes any sense for me. Though, he might only say that to get a rise out of me, seeing as the two of you are so alike."

He laughs at your surprised expression

"I'm serious, love. It's a bit ridiculous, actually. Rog and I have both talked about it."

You burst out laughing at Bri’s statement. You and Freddie Mercury? Similar? You weren't one to argue with the man who had known him the best, but, that didn't mean you actually believed it.

"So, I’m like Freddie? Genuinely? Because if that’s the truth, that might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me."

Brian knew how much you absolutely adored queen, knew how much the band meant to you as you'd’ been a fan for almost 20 years, nearly your entire life. And he knew how much you admired and adored Freddie, although you had never really talked about it, because you knew just how painful it was for him. Brian had been incredibly open about his struggles with depression and all of the things that would set him off, but never once had he mentioned Fred, and you respected that and left it well enough alone.

He simply smiles, his face a mixture of fondness and sadness, his voice the same. But he doesn’t shy away from speaking about it. He figures he owes you that much at least

"I’m serious. I mean, the two of you aren’t twins or anything—I don’t think the world could handle another Freddie. Or YOU, for that matter."

He grins at you, poking you gently in the ribs

"But yes. You have the same sense of humor, the same kindness—the same interests, even. And..."

He shrugs, blushing a little.

"You both care for and support me in ways no one else has. Differently, of course. But... still uniquely."

Emotions bubbling up, you swallow the lump in your throat. Hearing Brian be so open about something you’d never heard him talk about made your heart burst, it felt as if the final beam had fallen into place. Reaching up, you brush a stray tear from his cheek, one that you were willing to place cold hard US dollars on he hadn’t realized had escaped his eye.

"Well, I’ll just have to make sure I give you enough love and support for 2 people then huh?"

Placing a gentle kiss to his lips, your smile soon causing you to pull away as Brian curled himself into your side, placing butterfly kisses down your neck until his head came to rest at your chest.

"Also love,"

You chuckled, pulling at a stray curl on his head.

"The world is about to get TWO more of me.. and you, but, mostly me I’m willing to bet. Ya know, American genes and all."

He scoffs at you, trying to hide his emotions, even though he knew he didn’t have to.

"American genes? Oh, Anna, you are SORELY underestimating the May genes. Just you wait—they’ll be just like me, and it’ll drive both of us absolutely mad."

He smiles a bit at you before it fades. Sighing, he touches your cheek.

"You can ask about him, you know. If ever you want to. It’s a sore subject, but.... but I need to be more open in remembering him."

Leaning forward to place a kiss to his lips, smiling into it before burying your face into his neck. You knew that he wouldn’t mind me asking about Fred, but you also didn’t want him to think that you were nosy, putting your nose somewhere it didn’t belong.

You had never met Freddie, never met Jim, only met Mary once... You just didn’t feel like you belonged in that world, I mean, you had almost passed out when John had turned up at your house, wedding present in hand, a few weeks after you’d returned from the honeymoon.

"I love you so much Bri, but you’ll regret telling me that. I’ll never shut up about him now."

You laugh into his chest, his hands pinching your sides playfully, tickling you until you were a laughing mess against him.

"Dirty move Doctor May! Tickling the mother of your children, that’s a low blow."

At the mention of his children, you couldn’t help but think of Jimmy, Louisa, and Emily. What their reactions would be to the baby. You groaned, grabbing the bed remote and lying it all the way back, allowing the two of you to cuddle up closer, and far more comfortably. Brian’s grip on you tightened, hazel eyes looking down into your’s. He knew something was wrong, something was bothering you. Twisting around, you lie down on your stomach, deciding to revel in the feeling while you could.

"How do you think your kids are going to take the news?"

He knew that there was more you want to say but he doesn’t pry—just waits for you to decide when to ask. His heart aches a little when the words fall from your lips, his hand stilling on your back.

"... I’m not sure, love. It’ll be another big change, and they’ve proven themselves unreliable when it comes to being mature about those."

His voice is tight. He hated that his kids were acting the way they were. It made him mad, but also just.... extremely sad. He knew they’d like you if they’d give you the chance.

"I mean.... maybe the twins will help them realize how serious you and I are?"

He seems lost in thought for a moment, and then he shrugs.

"They’ll take it however they take it, Y/N. It’ll be alright. It’s their own issue."

You wanted to be optimistic, wanted to believe that what Brian said was true. That, because of these little miracles inside of you, his children would come around to your marriage. You had apologized to Brian about a million times throughout the duration of your relationship, for coming between his children and him, only for him to give you the same answer he’d just given you. Lying your head down on your arms, you hum in contentment as Brian runs his hands through your hair.

"I know Bri. You know how I am, I just want everyone to get along."

You chuckled a little at how naive it sound.

"But, I know that I have to think about us first, about making the best home and foundation for our children."

You paused, eyes widening slightly.

"Fucking hell Bri, we’re having children. Like, actual kids."

Your voice was shaking a bit, the reality finally setting in for REAL. You'd thought that it had set in the minute you'd been told, but this, this was the first time you had that overwhelming sense of ‘I’m going to be a mom.

Brian grimaced up at the ceiling, already going through the list of things he had to do to prepare the house.

"Yeah. Jesus.”

He sighs, his worries coming back. He taps his fingers over your lower back, mind racing. God, having two new babies? He was beyond ecstatic but.... well. How long would they have him for? Ten years? Fifteen? He’d be 90 by the time they graduated, if he even lived that long (something he tried not to think about at all costs). God, would they resent him for it? Think it was weird?

“.... I’ll have to do some research for baby proofing."

He decides to stick to talking about the house, not wanting to ruin your happiness. Those were his own issues and insecurities, not your's.

"We can probably turn my office into the nursery. I don’t use it much, and it’s right off the bedroom. How does that sound?"

You knew exactly what Brian was doing, was rambling about baby proofing, about the nursery, about absolutely anything to try and keep you off of the scent of his anxieties, but you could tell something was bothering him.. You could always tell.

"Bri, love, as much as I love the image of you painting little constellations all over the nursery, what’s wrong?"

He was acting strange, his eyes not as bright as they’d been earlier in the day.

"You are still okay with this right? With the babies? I know it’s a lot, and I just, you’re okay with it? Or is it something else love?"

Leaning over, you kissed his shoulder, worried about what was going through his head. He always tried to internalize his own insecurities, something he’d done the entire time he was with both Chrissie and Anita, something you’d been working with him on for the past 2 years. You just wanted to make sure he was okay.

Brian stops himself short from his rambling, eyes downcast. He felt guilty for worrying you

"Of course I’m alright with the babies! I’m so excited for us to expand our family together, and I can’t wait to meet them and love them, and see how amazing of a mum you are. Really, It’s nothing, love."

You give him a look, and he sighs. He could never lie to you—though he still tries.

"It’s just still settling in, and the idea is nerve wracking, but I know you already know that! It’s a scary thing. You’d think I wouldn’t be so worried after already having kids, but it never gets easier."

He huffs out a laugh, running a hand through his messy curls

".... I’m just.... old, Anna."

He feels like that’s all he needs to say, just thinking about it makes him feel sad. He already doesn’t know how you’ve stayed with him and wanted him, with his age and his looks and his... capabilities

A sudden sadness washes over you at his words knowing exactly what he meant. It was something the two of you had had a few very tearful conversations about in the past. Being with someone Brian’s age you knew you wouldn’t get the 50+ years with him that you wanted, but you were determined to make the most of the time you had together. Bringing children into a relationship like this was going to be hard, and they would only get 20-30 years TOPS with their dad, just like you. But, you didn’t care. Rolling your eyes, you press your face into Brian’s neck, wrapping your arms around him tightly.

"I’m not going to pretend like it’s not going to be hard, but, we’ll make it work. We always have."

You smiled into him, placing a kiss to the skin of his neck.

"We’re not going to be like normal families, I mean why would we want to be it’s boring that way. But, we’ll be a family full of love, and affection, acceptance, and happiness. We’ll give these little nuggets the best years we can with the time that we have together."

He sniffles, nodding a little.

"I know. I know, it’s just—i feel so guilty. I don’t want to put you or them through that; I don’t want to leave you alone."

He's quiet, voice shaking a little. No one ever liked talking about their own morality, but he selfishly thought he had reason to hate it even more than most. He tries to pull himself together, focusing on your words

"I’m sorry. I know you’re right. There’s nothing we can do, and I can’t... I can’t focus on that when there’s so many other things to think about."

He presses a kiss to the top of your head before speaking again, arms still around you.

".... like getting you out of this hospital and back home, for one. Did they say you had to spend the night? I’m sure you’d rather stay in our bed than this one."

He gestures to the hospital bed the two of you were squished together on.

Groaning as you attempt to get comfortable in the bed, you look at Brian for a second before pressing the nurses button.

"Yeah love they wanted to keep me overnight if I felt like I needed it, but honestly I want nothing more than to go home, take a hot bath, and have you make slow love to me."

You kissed his jaw, pulling away just in time for the nurse to come in, asking what you needed. When you sweetly explained that you felt like you were ready to go home, she sighed, saying that you would be better at the hospital, but that it was ultimately your decision.

After assuring her that you were in capable hands, she left, returning a few moments with the paperwork for you to sign, and the declared you discharged. Letting out a sigh of relief, you crawl off of the bed, stumbling a little as you attempted to use your legs for the first time in hours. Brian was still sat on the bed as you dressed yourself, a dazed look on his face. You grin, knowing exactly what your words had done to him, before pulling sweater and leggings on.

"You alright love? Ready to go, you've got a long night ahead of you... "

Tags: @meddows-taylors @only-theclassics @toomuchlove-willkillyou @leah-halliwell92 @glasgowkisschelseasmile @cyndagoaway @goodoldfashioned-rogerboy @im-just-a-musical-prostitute @rogertaylors-lipgloss @brianmayoucease

#lemme know if you like it and want part 2 #present day brian may x reader #brian may x reader #current day brian may x reader #2019 brian may #queen x reader #my writing #gwilym lee x reader #roger taylor x reader #bohemian rhapsody #brian may imagine #brian may fanfiction

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ranekvilmas · 4 years

Text

Uraveled (Chapter 1, Part 4)

One moment, two of staring at him with wide eyes, uncertainty at war within her. The stalemate shatters when he speaks--interpreted as a desperate plea for help, the druid does all she can think of: she smashes a paw into his head just hard enough to hopefully knock him out. Whether she succeeds or not, the resumed sound of footsteps drives her to once again grab hold of him and drag him into the city and towards his bakery.

The blow dazes him hard, fighting consciousness for a few moments before darkness claimed him. The fight is abruptly cut off as the mind hazes over, his body relaxing and able to be carried without any trouble or flailing.

Inside, his battle with the wolf did not stop. The pain and fighting of his own body eased the stains on him, having able to fight the serum that was still in his veins without the excruciating pain and mind-numbing ache.

However, deep in the recesses of his mind, it was still chaos. The wolf's howl was a whirlwind of noise and a sensation of being pinned down, making it hard to fight back. But this was his mind. His body. He prevailed a decade and a half ago, and he could do it again. He drew in close his humanity, his self-discipline, the training and mantras he drilled into his mind when he broke free. Then came the parts of his mind he harbored, the things he cared about most in the world, and what gave him the best resolve.

Upon reaching the bakery, Blythe releases her shapeshifted form to try the door. Should it not give, she breaks the lock via sheer pressure in her ursine form. Ranek can bill her for the repairs later. The door was still locked, and under the force of a bear, it gave way.The runes and protective wards pulsed, but nothing came to effect. Once inside, she drags him up the stairs and to the bed, where she ignores her bleeding flesh and eye and focuses instead of locating rope with which to tie him down. And tie him down she does, as no chances can be taken with feral worgen.

(Art by twitter user Kagesatsuki)

Only once she's certain her work is satisfactory does the druid locate a surgical needle and thread within her pack and begin carefully stitching herself up. Her hands shake and her depth perception is even further ruined than usual by her dead eye lying closed tight, lashes sealed together with blood. The gash skips across to the bridge of her nose, a smaller slice in her cheek from the same swipe.

It's likely there, sitting in a chair by the bed and with needle and thread in-hand, that Ranek finds her when finally he finds control and consciousness.

As the fight went on inside the depths of his mind, his body twitched a few times as Ranek began seizing control little by little. He raged with the wolf, their howls pushing each other back until the Gilnean dug as deep as he could, opening doors in his mind he kept locked from everyone. He had conditioned himself long ago to harbor certain parts of his life away from the inner wolf, for this very reason.

He remembered the druids that taught him control and inner peace. He remembered the emotions he shared with past lovers. He brought the affections and emotions he shared with Blythe, Quin, Valis, and the friends he had made along the way to the forefront, remembering who he was. He chanted the catechisms he memorized for years to tame the wild animal in his soul, slowly making the red rage bleed away.

About an hour passed when Ranek took a gasping breath, struggling against his bonds and looked around in a panic. "Blythe? Quin?" His vision was blurry from the concussion and mental strain. He looked around, blinking furiously with yellow eyes.

At his side, still seated, still working to stitch her many words, Blythe jolts slightly when Ranek wakes so abruptly. She offers him silence and a wary stare, every muscle tense, every instinct keeping her on high alert. He could spring at any moment, after all.

"I'm 'ere," she manages to reassure, her words hardly more than a whisper and so shaky they all but rattle between her teeth. "Are ye... you again?" Needle meets flesh once more, her ministrations having briefly paused to make way for the wash of fear.

What deft fingers remain twist and weave the stitching thread in her shoulder, tying it in a way that will help prevent it from tearing when she moves in a shapeshifted form. She keeps her blind eye closed, having done little for it aside cleaning the blood away--after all, eyes can't be stitched, and the slice through it is, or at least feels, disturbingly deep. Best not scare him with that immediately.

And so it's from the corner of her right eye that she watches him rather than her handiwork with the stitches.

It took him a few moments to slowly calm down against the restraints. "What... how did we get here?" He asked openly, looking around his bedroom. "What exactly happened to me? One second I was fine, then... he shot me. I lost all control over myself, like I was back in Gilneas during the outbreak. I could..." Blythe takes a slow breath to explain, but pauses when he continues. She stares at him with her good eye slightly wide, her lips barely parted, then pushes herself to her feet--barely weak in the knees, somewhat stiff in the spine. She keeps her back facing away from him so he can't see the marks of his claws there--and holds out the hand not clutched around her half-finished stitching. "Rane'. Rane', stop. Slow down, lad," the druid attempts to soothe, her tone stern in an attempt to yank him back to the surface.

He snapped his head to her. "Gods... oh gods what did I do to you?" He tried to reach out to her, but the thick rope would not let him budge. His still yellow eyes bulged as he looked over at his love. "Gods... I hurt you again. I keep..." He pulled against the ropes. "What the fel happened to me!? Years... years of training and all the work I have done in the last year.. all undone." He sagged suddenly, despair and sorrow written all over his face as he grinded his teeth.

"I' was a potion. I' wasn' yer faul'. I managed t' ge' th' dar' ou' o' ye an' sen' i' t' th' local alchemis' while ye were ou'. They go' back t' me a few minutes ago," she explains, settling back down in her chair with a grimace. "It's a potion tha' reignited th' curse temporarily in sane worgen... an' allows 'im an' only 'im t'... control them. I thin' 'e's been dosin' th' worgen in th' woods with i'."

Drawing a deep breath, Blythe runs a hand through her hair. "Ligh'... th' disappearances, th' mass gatherin's o' worgen in th' woods, th' insane 'owlin'... 'e mus' be tryin' t' perfec' i' by makin' worgen as... as experimen's."

"All I do is hurt you. And anyone I care about...." His eyes welled up, seeing her hurt once more tore at his heart. "Blythe.. I am so sorry.. You need to run away from me, one day I am going to get you killed." He struggled once more, trying to tear at himself.

But back to the present. Blythe's one-eyed gaze snaps back to her love when she forcibly recenters herself on the needs at hand. "Ye cu' me up a bi', bu' 'tis nothin' bad, love. Don' bea' yerself up, aye? Once yer no' a threa' t' yerself--don' thin' I don' know why yer strugglin'--I'll untie ye. Fer now, ye ge' t' keep me company while I finish these stitches."

There was still a bit of haze in his mind, his rapid blinking and struggling against the bonds were signs of his unease of being so contained. Her words poured into him, helping to calm and get him to close his eyes to focus. The wolf was back to it's normal symbiotic relationship with Ranek, but the damage was done. The wounds suffered when the brand was destroyed were ripped open in places and it made focusing hard, not to mention the agitated wolf was not making concentration easy.

As she explained, her voice and his need of information kept his focus on her, anything to draw away from the darkness.

As he looked her over, he noticed the closed eye, but before he could question, his hands curled into fists and a low growl came from his throat. "He.... is experimenting? All those people..." He growled again. "Kill.. them.. All."

"Tha's... m' theory, a' leas'," the druid sighs as she stands. Hobbling feet carry her to the nearby mirror, exposing her torn back to Ranek, so she can inspect her eye. A click of her tongue, and she steps back to her chair, blind eye once again tightly shut. "I intend t'. M' wonder is... if'n 'e is experimentin', tryin' t' perfec' tha' potion, is 'e goin' t' sell i' t' th' 'orde? Make an army o' 'is own? I jus' don' know."

As the words left his lips, the wolf howled inside of him once more. He wanted to rend and tear, kill and eat. But this time Ranek steeled himself from the bubbling rage, taking a breath and mentally chanting the catechisms and mantras, holding the wolf down.

Her voice once more brought him back to peace, his hand stretching to touch her fingers, as much as the rope allowed. "Just like your stomach.. I will never forgive myself for hurting you again. Please forgive me, love." He pleaded at her, the emotions and feeling flooding him as his eyes returned to normal. "Do not release me. I have control, but the concussion and tearing in my head.. I do not know how solid the hold is."

She opens her good eye, which she wasn't aware of closing, to stare at their woven fingers. With a sigh, she squeezes his hand. "There's nothin' t' fergive," she soothes, her voice soft. "Wha' can I do t' 'elp resolidify yer control?"

“I do not know, Blythe.” He said softly, sitting back on the bed and sighing heavily. But a small chuckle left his throat, looking up at the druid. He gave a weak smile at her. "I thought the first time you tied me up would be a bit more.... Sexy."

(Artist is unknown)

Her serious concern vanishes with snorted laughter at his jest, a bright, amused smile splitting her lips. She covers he face with her free hand as she laughs, only to wrench away and hiss when she barely puts pressure on her blind eye though the lid.

Her back made him wince, more guilt and anger rising in him. He strained on his restraints, growling softly at the thought of hurting her.But her laugh brought him back once more, giving her a small wink. But her hissing made him squeeze her hand. "Still beautiful, Blythe." Ranek listened to her, sighing softly. "Either way, it needs to be stopped. I want to help you, I want a piece of that bastard." His eyes blazed in her direction. "I want to pay back.."

Another sigh, and a heavy breath. "But I am a liability to you, and this fight. More setbacks because I keep hurting you, putting you in danger." He squeezed her hand. "And we both know it is the truth. However.. I will not let it willingly happen again. I will seek a way to protect myself, Blythe." He squeezed her hand again, rubbing the nubs of her missing fingers.

"As for the control, I just need time. My rune is drained again, and the mental wards are cracked, which will just need to be replaced. Plus.. with what I did to you, we both need to recuperate." He looked at her, eyes focusing on her molten gaze.

"Ye 'ad no control over wha' 'appened ou' there. Tha' potion could override even me, an' I don' 'ave th'... separa'e wolf tha' others 'ave. Maybe because I don' remember bein' 'uman." She returns every squeeze to her hand gently, watching him with that tired, careful half-gaze. "Jus' don' blame yerself fer wha' i' did t' ye. Yer no' a liabili'y, an' ye didn' 'ur' me."

Her words offered some comfort, his strain and anger beginning to fade as he took a small breath to relax. "I should have been able to resist it. I have been like this for over twelve years.. honed the connection to the wolf. I have a rune on my chest.. this damn thing has resisted a Void creature.. but one man undoes that with one dose. How?" Frustration bleeds from his voice, his free hand becoming a fist. "I will beat it. No matter what it takes."

With a sigh, the druid pushes herself to her feet once more and releases his hand. She steps to scoop up a loose flannel shirt she keeps at his home and pulls it on to hide her stitched back. "I need t' visi' th' nearby infirmary an' ask them t' check ou' m' eye. Avoid infection, see wha' they thin' I should do fer i', an' all. Will ye be alrigh' while I'm gone? Ye should ge' some sleep." While she speaks, she twists to face him, continuing to keep her damaged eye closed. Her remaining eye sets on his features, worry-filled and searching.

"Do not worry about me, Blythe. I will be here when you get back. I will contemplate what happened today, and work on communing with the wolf.. mend that fractured state between it and I." He gave her a confident smile and nodded. "See you soon, darlin'."

"Alrigh'. I'll be back within a couple hours, 'opefully. I've lef' ye yer enchan'ed stone so ye can contac' me withou' needin' yer 'ands. Jus' call on me if'n ye need anythin'," the druid states, then steps for the bedroom door.

"See you soon enough." He tries to wave, settling back into the bed and took a few calming breaths as Blythe left the house.

He decided to get to work immediately, closing his eyes and focusing inward. The wolf was still agitated and stalked aimlessly through his mind, the barriers he put up to keep it from roaming freely were shattered and had to be mended.

To do so would take time, once more having to reach peace with the curse that manifested as the beast within. There had to be another unspoken agreement, Ranek had to exert that he was the alpha of the pair through force.

@theunfortunatedruid Mentions: @beautiful-beacon, @irielle-firine, @valishoneybee

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ariellevalois · 4 years

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hi everyone ! i’m a little late to the party but you’ll find some of my wanted connections under the cut. feel free to message me if there’s anything you want or just like this post !

𝗪𝗔𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗡𝗘𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗦 :

⁠—⁠— there i was giving you a second chance but you stabbed my back while shaking my hand // you used to trust each other, confide in each other, but that was too long ago. betrayal is not easily forgiven, but still, she tried. and it was a mistake to do so in the first place. loyalty is so fragile and the crown comes with a great price you had to pay. now all that’s left is a mess she must clear and a line of trust that’s broken beyond repair.

⁠⁠—⁠— if i said i want your body would you hold it against me? // what you do behind closed doors is a secret that must never be told. whether it’s because of the political scene or a family matter, none of you wants anyone else to know about this. no strings attached, that’s what you promised each other and it’s working fine by now. you both have other priorities and plans, falling in love is for foolish people and neither of you can afford to be called like that. // TAKEN BY AARNE .

⁠—⁠— tipsy, i'm the only one that you want when you caught vibration // you don’t talk often. your ideals don’t match. but when one of you gets drunk, things take a sudden turn and you find yourselves having late-night conversation about things you should probably not tell each other. but you didn’t know who else to call and you both know that everything will go back to normal at dawn. // TAKEN BY ANNELI .

⁠—⁠— i don't trust nobody and nobody trusts me // you never liked each other, although a reason wasn’t necessarily needed. you never said it out loud, but neither of you would mind seeing each other fall to their knees. maybe things haven’t always been like this, or maybe they have, but one thing is clear: there’s no way you would ever trust each other.

⁠—⁠— this is our sanctuary, we can find shelter and peace // what an unusual pairing. that’s what people would think if they knew about you. but nobody knows. you meet up in secret and help each other with the weight that’s on your shoulders. you talk for hours and hours, without being afraid of information leaking or measuring your words.

⁠—⁠— he’s broken every human law. he breaks the law of gravity // you’re the type of person she should stay away from, but there’s something that’s pulling her in like a magnet and she finds herself in the middle of trouble everytime. she can’t hold it against you, it was her decision, but maybe such a bad influence as yourself will make a change in her life. // TAKEN BY GABRIEL .

⁠—⁠— you gotta see it to believe it, sky never looked so blue so i keep thinking back to a time under canyon moon // you met during a time when she was lost. or maybe you were lost too. the whole world was curious to find out where she was hiding and you were the only one who knew. you travelled together and built yourselves back up together. gratitude is strong enough to link two people, so the bond you have now is unbreakable.

⁠—⁠— you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes // how foolish of you to expect her to fall for your tricks. trust had never been an option, but now that she knows what your true intentions are, you’re vulnerable and you have no other choice but to try and stay on her good side. at least until you find something that’d give you the upper hand once again.

𝗪𝗔𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗡𝗘𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗦 :

⁠—⁠— when i’m with you i have amnesia, got me without a mind. my stupid brain thinks that i need you, misleads me all the time // you’re no good for each other, but neither of you wants to call it quits just yet. you both like torturing the other, playing with their feelings and denying that there could be something more in here than meets the eye. you run away, but you come back to each other everytime, because you can’t live without each other, but once you’re back at square one, bad habits kick in again.

⁠—⁠— talk fast, romance. won't last, i'm okay with that. burn, crash, romance. i'll take what I can get from you // none of you wanted more than a night of pleasure and empty promises, but it’s morning now and neither of you wants to leave. this is built to fall, you both know it but instead of throwing it away, you choose to enjoy it while it lasts.

—⁠— me and all my girls keep it lit when we come through. we can buy a table in the bar if we want to. ladies in the buildin', probably makin' more than you // a girl squad that’s envied by the whole world, that’s what you are. always on the cover of the magazines together, always present on each other’s social media. but you’re more than just a group of girls who like to have fun, you have each other’s backs because you made a promise. it’s you, until the end of the line.

—⁠— we were jet set, bonnie and clyde, until i switched to the other side. it’s no surprise i turned you in ‘cause us traitors never win // funny that you thought she would ever help somebody other than herself. it was beneficial for her to be your friend, but she took everything she could and before you realized it, she left. she told you not to trust her, but you eventually did and now you understand that everything was a game to her. she’s no longer a friend, but an enemy. // TAKEN BY MIRAY .

—⁠— this is how the world works. you gotta leave before you get left // maybe you really fell for her charms, maybe you didn’t. but you surely didn’t expect her to leave so suddenly. one moment, you had her right in your arms, you even thought you had her in the palm of your hand, but now she’s gone and you’re left wondering whether you knew anything about her at all or not.

—⁠— they say i did something bad, but why’s it feel so good? // well-behaved women seldom make history. you both find yourselves in chaos and distruction and now that you found each other, you take great pleasure in the mischief you cause together. the worst part? it feels way too right to be wrong.

—⁠— all for freedom and for pleasure, nothing ever lasts forever. everybody wants to rule the world // it’s strategic and calculated. the two of you are powerful, but together, you are unstoppable. you didn’t know who she really was when you asked for her hand in marriage, but now that you found out, you realize that maybe it hasn’t been such a bad idea. you both want to watch the world burn, so instead of fighting alone, you fight together.

⁠—⁠— i know you don't do one night stands so i'm the closest thing. now can we fuck and still be friends, though? // you didn’t expect her to be so bold. you were friends, you never looked at her in that way but now that she suggested it, you’re starting to like the thought more than you probably should. so you give it a try. now all there’s left to do is to keep being friends after you touched each other in a way friends never do.

—⁠— you made a really deep cut and baby now we got bad blood // she knew she shouldn’t have trusted you, but she did and you proved her she was right about it. your friendship is long gone and it’s all your fault, but you don’t regret it at all. after all, a connection to her was beneficial at that time but your priorities have changed. // TAKEN BY ARMANI .

—⁠— pay me all my money cause i’m sick to my soul. oh, i love control // when you met, you didn’t think there could be anyone like her. you thought it was all an act. but now that you realized who she really is, you understand that you were wrong. you want to push her away and out of your life, but you won’t because you’re scared of what she might do. instead, you’re stuck in this toxic friendship and you can’t see any way out.

—⁠— they whisper in the hallway, “ she’s a bad, bad girl ” // you think it’s time for the whole world to know who she really is and you’re not afraid to scream and shout it. you never got along but you’re starting to see her true colors and you want to make sure everybody knows it, so that nobody will ever fall for one of her tricks again. // TAKEN BY ARABELLA .

—⁠— light-pink sky, up on the roof. sun sinks down, no curfew // you like hanging out with each other and letting go of the weight you carry on your shoulders every once in while. you’re each other’s getaway and for some odd and unknown reason, you trust each other enough to confess everything that bothers you.

—⁠— sin city wasn’t made for angels like you // you’re too good for her, too kind. a strange friendship, you might call it, but you turned out to be her weakness. you’re pure, but instead of taking advantage of that, she wants to protect you from the evil that lies all around you. // TAKEN BY ZHAOHUI .

—⁠— and in the end, if i don’t make it on the list would you sneak me a wristband? give me a boost over heaven’s gate // there was a time when you two were close, but friends grow apart and people grow older. there’s no bad blood between you, but she asked you to promise her to show her the light if she ever goes on the wrong path. you didn’t think it through and accepted, you were young and you didn’t know things could get this far, but now it’s time for you to fulfill your promise and prevent her from losing herself to the dark side.

𝗪𝗔𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗡𝗘𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗦 :

⁠⁠—⁠— now that i’m sitting here, thinking it through, i’ve never been anywhere cold as you // it never occured to you that some people can act like they have no emotions at all and stand by it. you thought she was pretending, but she ended up disappointing you without a trace of remorse and there’s nobody to blame but you, because you should’ve known she was telling the truth when she said she’s heartless.

⁠—⁠— would you rescue me? would you get my back? would you take my call when i start to crack? // nobody would’ve thought you’d be the one that makes her heart beat again. she doesn’t tell you she loves you like any person would do. instead, she shows you she’s vulnerable and she asks you to save her, but just for this time, because she’s tired of saving herself.

⁠—⁠— and i swore that i would never say i miss you more everyday but some things are better left unsaid // when she left, she told you that there will never be a future for you two and she didn’t think she’d regret it, but years had passed and she is starting to feel like something is missing. by the time she realizes it’s you, it’s already too late. you love somebody else.

⁠—⁠— you want a war, you don’t know what you’re asking for // diplomacy had never been fun for you. some people just want to watch the world burn and you’re one of those people. she might be scary and intimidating, but you took it as a challenge and now there’s a war that’s about to start between you, maybe even between your countries.

⁠—⁠— the day you’ll fall in love with me i’ll break your fucking heart // you have been warned right from the start. it’s all physical, don’t get too involved because if you do, she will not hesitate before storming out of your life. you managed to stick to her words by now, but how much can you handle?

⁠—⁠— i keep digging myself down deeper, i won’t stop ‘till i get where you are // there is an unspoken loyalty between you. none of you know how you got this deep, but you’d do anything for each other without even thinking twice about it. you’re a team, you fight together until the end.

⁠—⁠— now we got problems and i don’t think we can solve them // you two never got along, but at least you were being civil with each other. however, that’s not the case anymore. ever since that day, you attack each other with each chance you have and there’s no going back now.

⁠—⁠— no cameras catch my muffled cries. i counted days, i counted miles to see you there and now the storm is coming // you refused to leave when she told you to. you knew she needed you, but she was too proud to admit it so instead of running for the hills, you stayed. and she didn’t tell you to leave again. now, when she’s at her lowest again, will you stand by her side one more time?

⁠—⁠— my team is losing, battered and bruising. i see the high fives between the bad guys // you had no connection before, but politics brought you together. you saw she was on the losing side and you thought it wasn’t fair, so you decided to lend her a helping hand. she’s wary of your intentions, but all that you want is to stop the bigger evil and if that means teaming up with her, then so be it.

⁠—⁠— maybe we could go get lost tonight. at least we’d know we gave it a try // you have been friends for what felt like forever, but one night, you decided to try and be more than that. if only for a moment. only to say that you tried. neither of you know where it’s going to lead, but you’re both willing to try.

#hshqevent022 #hshqtask004 #/ please don't feel like you have to stick to one of these #if there's anything else you'd like please let me know!#political allies are also always welcome

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