#you bet they protectin

[tmuse-ac]

Aw no poor boys! Sun looks so tired and his wings are all messed up, witch Y/N gonna kick some bandit BUTT

#you bet they protectin #anyone touches their besties will meet their death #the edge is real #petrixmuse asks #fairy friends au #sun fairy #moon fairy #fnaf sun and moon au

[thecreelhouse]

part time soulmate, full time problem

Paring: Gator Tillman x Alt Fem!Reader (she/her pronouns) || MDNI! 18+ for eventual smut

Summary:

After leaving the Midwest years ago, you finally make the choice to visit home for the holidays. What’s meant to be a quiet, boring Christmas with your family turns into being snowed in with your ex-best friend, now enemy and absolute pain in the ass, Gator Tillman.

It’s only 3 days. How bad can 3 days be with an ex-friend?

———

CW/Tags: angst, toxic banter, language, mentions of drunk driving, mentions of death/loss, Gator being an absolute fucking moron

Word count: 2.5k

Series Masterlist / Read on AO3

Day 1

When you agreed to come home for the holidays, you didn’t anticipate it to be very eventful. Just a week with your family… and not much else. After all, what the hell else was around in Stark County, North Dakota?

Minutes after being picked up from the airport, your father had no issue letting you know some plans changed, that it wouldn’t be such a quiet holiday break at home, on account of … “business”. You never asked when he vaguely called last minute periods of time away from home to do god knows what “business”.

Doing “business” meant he was up to no good, though. You knew that much. You also knew that usually involved that insufferable Roy Tillman, and that usually meant—

“Hey, freak.”

Unfortunately, you’d know that god awful, nasally Midwest accent, doused in cockiness, with a hint of some terrible excuse of a cowboy twang in the tone, anywhere. You whip around from the trunk of your dad’s car, eyes rolling from muscle memory at the sight of Gator.

Fucking Gator Tillman. Professional douche bag, absolute unjustified asshole, persistent pain in society’s ass, and the ultimate bane of your existence.

“Piss off, Gator.” You’re rummaging through the trunk, pulling a suitcase and backpack out before letting them tumble onto the snow covered driveway.

“Can’t. I kinda live here, remember?”

“Didn’t you move out yet?”

“Well- okay, yeah, but—“

“So, you don’t live here, technically.”

His jaw set, annoyed, following it up with a dead stare and his stupid fucking vape, blowing the flavored vapor right in your face. At least it smelled sweet. Still, you stuck your tongue out with a grimace.

Nearly anything could get under Gator’s skin. That’s your entertainment for the next three days. That’s it. How fucking depressing.

Might as well enjoy what you’ve got, though.

“Whatever, you gon’ lemme help ya’ or not?” Gator reaches for your backpack, but you kick it away from him. He looks even more annoyed now.

“Nope, take my suitcase, bet your daddy reminded you to be a real man before we got here. Ain’t that why you’re babysitting me?” Your words dripped with repulsion, already fed up with the misogynist mindset still thriving out here.

Both of your fathers always took their wives on these “business” trips, but the two of you were always left behind. Gator always made a scene about not going with his dad, but that was always met with the order of watching over you, keeping you safe. All because you’re a woman.

“Thought that’s why you moved out east, ain’t it?” Gator mocks you as he yanks the suitcase handle up and out before dragging it toward the house.

“There’s plenty of reasons, and you’re one of ‘em.” You follow behind him, backpack slung on one shoulder.

Gator stops, throwing a cocky smirk over his shoulder, “I’m honored, princess.”

These will be the longest three days of my life.

——

The two of you were left alone almost immediately after arriving, with your father reminding you in a sweet, yet condescending tone to make dinner every night as a ‘thank you’ to Gator for ‘protectin’ ya’’. Gator, of course, smirked at that, while you forced a smile as you bit your tongue.

Playing nice until they leave the property, you immediately drop the act with an exhausted sigh, flopping onto the couch.

“Hey, aren’t ya’ gonna do what your dad said?” Gator asks expectantly. You glare over at him through jet lagged eyes.

“Gator, you’re a grown ass man, learn how to make yourself something other than goddamn cereal.” You flip him off, and again you’re under his skin. “Not like you even have a girlfriend to take care of you, so remind me, how the hell do you survive on your own? That vape don’t count as food, y’know.”

“You’re lucky I gotta be nice,” He mumbles as the best comeback he could think of. “Y’move out east for a few years and suddenly you’ve got all the nerve in the world.”

“Yep, it’s amazing when you move to a city where misogyny and the whole ‘men are superior, women exist to serve’ mindset ain’t welcome. You should try leaving the state some time, you might learn something good for once.”

He looks offended, fists clenching a bit as he sits opposite from you. “I’ve left before—“

“Other than neighboring Midwest states, I mean.”

Gator falls quiet before taking a drag from his vape, his go-to response when he really doesn’t have one. Jesus, he looks like a douche.

“Whatever, I’m happy here.” It’s almost comical how he says it in the most bothered tone, brows knit together as he glares at you. “You coulda’ been happy here too.”

It’s your turn to deflect and dodge poorly; you slam your hands on the couch as a push to get up. “Alright, we’re done here. Keep out of my way, I’ll keep out of yours. The house is big enough, anyway. If you need me— which, you won’t— text me. I’ll hang in the guest room, so you won’t have to worry about what trouble I could get into.”

While you pull your bags upstairs, you hear the front door whine open and slam shut, then a distant roar of an engine coming to life. Wheels crunch loudly on the snow— everything is easy to hear out here. It’s so flat and… hollow.

As you get settled in the guest room, you start wondering if coming home for Christmas was even worth it at all.

Because that’s all the Midwest was to you, and will ever be. Hollow.

———

It’s dark out when Gator gets back; you fell asleep at some point, and what woke you up was the front door slamming wide open, along with some stumbling around.

Sighing, you knew what happened. The predictable situation was always disappointing, but not surprising.

Gator wasn’t an alcoholic, as far as you knew and remembered, at least. He did like to dive into a bottle when he was pissed, though. And that was more often than not.

… Okay, so maybe he did have some kind of issue with alcohol, but you weren’t going to label it, just stay out of his way.

Then, a thump echoes through the house, along with glass breaking. Another expectant sigh leaves you; you push off the bed and head downstairs to check out the commotion.

A lamp in the living room is smashed, off to a great start. Your eyes wander for a moment before you spot Gator shuffling out of the kitchen with a dustpan and brush, nearly kneeling into the broken glass scattered across the old hardwood floors.

“Gator, hey, don’t—“ He yells out as his knees are prickled with glass and ceramic shards. Too late. You carefully tip toe around the sharp pieces in your slippers to reach him.

Gator stands, leaving behind the dustpan, wincing and murmuring a “Fucking Christ”.

“You’re lucky your daddy ain’t home, he’d definitely kill ya’ f’that one.” You’re still sleepy, but manage to hold an arm out for him to balance on. Confused, he glances down, then glances back at you. “Oh my god— Gator, lean on me, idiot.”

He reels back a bit, bottom lip curling downward in annoyance. He slurs, “I don’ need your help.”

You hold your hands up, “Fine, deal with this on your own, asshole.”

You turn to cautiously maneuver back to the stairs, but his hand grasps your wrist, tugging you back in place. You hold your other arm out to keep your balance.

“M’sorry.” Gator mumbles, almost too quiet for you to hear, but you catch it.

“Couch, now.” You roll your eyes with your arm back out, and he leans on you reluctantly. You guide him as carefully as possible, helping him rest slowly. He murmurs some obscenities as his knees bend, blood patching through on the fabric from the glass and ceramic shards.

“Can you stay like that? You can rest against the couch just- just don’t move your legs or lay down, ‘kay?” He nods, face flushed from drinking.

It doesn’t take you long to find rubbing alcohol and a pair of tweezers in the medicine cabinet, but as you return, you see Gator bent over his knees, trying to haphazardly pick the glass out.

“Gator, up.” Your voice startles him, and with eyes wide, he sits back up. “Don’t make it worse.”

You quickly push what’s on the coffee table aside to sit on it, facing Gator. He forces a laugh, but it’s pretty deadpan. “Don’t I always make everything worse?”

Sighing, you position yourself to begin plucking the shards out. “Not answering that one.”

With the removal of each piece, Gator winces and hisses, a few times throwing his head back over the pain.

“You’re gonna hate it when I gotta clean the wounds.” You state, watching blood dribble from some of the open, now clear wounds.

“Don’t use tha’ shit.” He groans, head coming back up to grimace at the sight of blood.

“You’re a cop—“

“Deputy-“

“Whatever. Don’t you see blood often? Shit, you work for your dad, you definitely see blood often.”

He grits his teeth. “Shut up, you dunno what you’re talkin’ about.”

“You want me to stop helping? Because I don’t have to be doing this right now.”

Gator huffs, but he quiets down. The quiet doesn’t last long, though.

“When d’ya get those?” He’s pointing to your left arm, covered in tattoos, now slightly bare as your hoodie slumps off your shoulder.

You continue to tend to his wounds as you answer, “Started this sleeve shortly after movin’. Wanted to celebrate owning my life again.” The latter half of the sentence quiets down out of embarrassment; your life should’ve belonged to you this entire time, but you almost feel guilty for admitting how it previously felt.

Gator’s quiet for a few moments, eyes studying the art on your skin. “They’re … nice.”

You snort, breaking your focus to look up at him. “You don’t have to force yourself to be nice, Gator. You can tell me how you really feel. I’m a big girl, I can handle it.”

He shakes his head, almost childishly, “No, really. They’re pretty. They suit you.”

“Not ending that with ‘freak’? Color me shocked.”

“Can’t be mean when you’re the one holdin’ them sharp ass tweezers.” He’s only half joking, but it still earns a smile from you.

The smile drops quickly; you realize some shards are tiny, and you can’t get through the fabric of his pants to pull them out.

“Uh… Gator… you’re gonna laugh at me for sayin’ this, but you, uh, you gotta take your pants off.” You rush out the words, hoping he won’t hang onto them too long.

Even drunk, this doesn’t get past Gator. He smirks; Jesus Christ you can’t stand that smirk. It’s almost… cute, with how flushed his face is.

Ew, god, no. The fuck’s my problem?

“What’s the magic word, princess?”

You toss the tweezers aside and get up, “Okay, good luck! I’m going back to bed.”

Gator grabs your legs, strong hands clutching your thighs tightly, and you have to ignore the heat rising to your face.

“I’m kiddin’ I promise!” He tries playing it off, but his voice is pleading with you to stay. You sigh your annoyance out, kind of taking pity on him.

“One more smart-ass word or move and you’re stuck with this glass in your knees forever.”

Gator nods, beginning to stand up, but falling back onto the couch from the pain in his knees.

“Idiot, I didn’t say you had to get up.” You sit back down on the table, waiting for him to unbutton his pants. He doesn’t. “Gator, I ain’t doin’ all the work here.”

“Fine.” He undoes the button and zipper before shimmying his pants down his legs and— god, when did his legs get so muscular? He was so lanky last you saw him.

“Babe, I ain’t doin’ all the work here.” Gator mocks, pants rolled down just above his knees.

You’ll give him that one, let it slide; you were definitely staring, and you weren’t about to get in a debate about the way you ogled at his legs.

“Sit still, they can’t just come off, it’ll dig some of the glass in further. Okay? Sit still, Gator.”

“I am!”

He was, you’re just nervous he’ll do something stupid. You’re also nervous to be this close to him with his pants halfway off.

“I can do it,” He mumbles, reaching to pull them down. He’s quicker than you, surprisingly, even while drunk, but of course, what you warned would happen, happens.

“Fuckin’ moron, I said sit. Still.”

He blushes at your order, pulling his hands back to let you do the job safely.

It takes a few minutes, but slowly, you’re able to remove the fabric from his knees. You let his pants pool around his boots, trying your hardest to focus on his wounds.

“Call me ‘babe’ again and I’m gonna deck ya’.” You murmur, working on the near-microscopic shards in his skin. “How’d this break anyway?”

You knew the answer, but you wanted to hear him admit it, even though the truth would infuriate you.

Gator has no problem telling you, though. “Too drunk, forgot the lamp’s there.”

Alright, he confirmed it.

Inhaling slowly to calm yourself, you ask, “You drove home drunk?”

“I didn’t have another way home.”

Angry, you yank a shard out without compassion; he hisses from the pain.

“You could’ve called me.”

“You don’t have a car here.”

“You could’ve called an Uber.”

He scoffs with a playful smile, as if this is all a silly mistake. “Like that exists out here.”

“Asshole, you could’ve killed someone.” You’re trying your best to focus on finishing this up, but you just want to stab the tweezers into his leg instead. Somehow, you hold your actions back, but not your tongue. “You remember what happened to my baby sister, huh?”

Gator remembers. How could he forget? How your sister barely had her license when the accident took her? How you began to withdraw from life, distancing yourself from everyone—

“I could fuckin’ strangle you right now, Gator.” You’re biting back tears, roughly plucking shards out. He takes the pain, he knows he deserves it. “And we both know your daddy would get you out of a DUI if it came to it.”

He sits silent, face losing color. This got dark, fast, and he was too intoxicated to even think about the consequences. But no amount of alcohol in his system would keep him from realizing he really hurt you.

“I ain’t forgivin’ you for this one.”

“I don’ expect ya’ to.”

You finish helping Gator’s wounds sloppily, throwing the bottle of rubbing alcohol at him. “I got most of ‘em out. Clean your own wounds, scumbag.”

Gator can’t bring himself to respond, look at you, or move to try and clean the cuts. You quickly sweep up the mess before dumping it into the trash and silently heading up to bed.

Gator doesn’t leave the couch that night.

#gator tillman x reader #gator tillman x y/n #gator tillman smut #my fics #part time soulmate full time problem

[onippep]

Do you bet on your life on that statement, Vigi?

I goddamn do. My family may be causin' a racket n' getting into Peppino's business, but they come first. They ALWAYS come first. And that chef can tear that sentiment from my cold dead hands.

That doesn't matter now! I gotta focus on protectin' people before someone actually DIES from this damn dispute!

I AIN'T RUNNIN. MR. SPAGHETTI IS NOT ENTERING THAT TOWER.

(The others can't know I'm here. If I can clean up Peppino n' get Fakie out, hopefully I can start some damn negotiations..!)

(Speak of th'devil, and he'll come.)

#;errands #;vigilante speaks #;pizzasks #leaddyart #;pizzaplot #lordy its happenin)) #red POV up next!))

[godkilller]

roast ukitake. i'm sure gin has a LOT to say about him.

SEND CHARACTERS FOR GIN TO ROAST

          ❝ You claim ya care ‘bout children, you act like a parent to’em and try’n respect them and treat’em good ---- yet where were you when I needed ya? All you saw when y’looked at me was some prodigy kid who blasted his way through th’ Academy, you chatted ‘bout my potential without seein’ the truth; you’re a liar, sayin’ you care for kids while fuckin’ celebratin’ when a child-soldier comes into your ranks, never askin’ why, never wonderin’ what happened to me to make me the way I am. Talkin’ about what squad I got put in like my future’s so bright when you know for a fact it ain’t ever gonna be, you knew butcha still smiled and thought ‘how impressive!’ instead of ‘how sad!’ like you should’ve. What kinda monster are ya, pretendin’ to be good, pretendin’ to care when you don’t lift a finger to do shit ---- you’ve got a record of lettin’ people you supposedly care for, you supposedly have duty to protectin’, down. Kaien died because you made up some stupid sayin’ about pride, when really your pride’s always ever been the reason others ‘round you suffer and die. Don’t think I don’t know ‘bout the Quincy purges, cap’n Aizen’s told me what you ‘n ol’ man Yama’ve done ---- you walked ‘longside those murderers, I’ll bet you got blood so thick on yer hands you can still smell it between your stupid lil coughin’ fits. You think bein’ ill’ll make people forgive your twisted past? I hope it takes ya slowly, painfully, a fittin’ punishment for how much of a failure you’ve been to everybody who’s ever looked up to you. All these supposed ‘experienced�� adults surroundin’ me and still I somehow ended up bein’ smart enough to get cap’n Aizen’s weakness. A shame, really, considerin’ he stupidly looked up to you once -- you could’ve stopped him, too. But like always, none of you can fuckin’ think of anythin’ other than yourselves. ❞

#[ roleplay ] predator; murder on his mind & hymns on his tongue #u w u #YOU GUESSED RIGHT!

[tennisthebeatifullgame]

Bugs and Yosemite Sam Unearth Treasure! 🐰🤠💬 Myself: Howdy, Tumblr friends! 🌟 Yosemite Sam and Bugs Bunny just rolled into our little corner of the internet, and they've got a wild tale to tell about funny bugs and pesky pirates. 🐛🏴‍☠️ YosemiteSam: Howdy, ya varmints! Yosemite Sam here. Bugs and I done stumbled upon some peculiar bugs while chasin' after treasure. Now, let's hear what bugs you find funny and what treasures you reckon pirates are hidin'! 🤠👂 BugsBunny: Eh, what's up, doc? Bugs here. Sam and I found ourselves in a whole mess of bugs—some funny lookin' ones, I tell ya! And those pirates? Well, they've got treasures that'd make a carrot blush! Myself: I'm all about those quirky insect blogs, Bugs! You know, the ones where bugs wear top hats and have tea parties. Classic Looney Tunes material! BugsBunny: Ah, you got a good eye for the loony side of bugs! Top hats and tea parties—sounds like a real hoot! What about you, Sam? YosemiteSamOfficial: Reckon I'd choose them blogs with bugs pullin' pranks. Bugs and pranks go together like tumbleweeds and a dusty trail. Myself: Pirates hidin' treasures, eh? I'm in for those adventure blogs that uncover hidden gems! What treasures have ya found, Bugs and Sam? BugsBunny: Adventure, doc! That's the spirit! We found treasures so shiny, even Sam's hat got jealous. Ain't that right, Sam? YosemiteSam: Dagnabbit, that hat never did like competition! But them treasures, I reckon they're worth protectin'. Any more in the roundup? User101: I'm all in for those hilarious pirate comics, Bugs! Pirates with rubber chickens and whoopee cushions—now that's my kind of treasure hunt! BugsBunnyOfficial: Ah, a fan of the ol' rubber chicken humor, huh? Those pirates sure know how to tickle a funny bone. What about you, Sam? Sam: I'm leanin' towards pirate blogs with treasure maps and codes. A good ol' treasure hunt keeps the blood pumpin'! Myself: Bugs, what about those blogs with bugs and pirates teaming up for mischievous adventures? I bet Sam's hat is the real mastermind! BugsBunny: You got it, doc! Bugs and pirates causin' mischief—Sam's hat might just be the brains of the operation! Ain't that the truth, Sam? Sam: Consarn it, that hat's got a mind of its own! But them mischief blogs, now that's a real hootenanny. Any more before we ride off into the sunset? Myself: I'm all about them bug documentaries, Sam! Bugs in their natural habitat, doin' their thing. What's your take, Bugs? BugsBunny: Doc, you're lookin' for the real deal! Bugs in their natural habitat, not a carrot in sight. Ain't that somethin', Sam? Sam: Well, I reckon that's a mighty fine roundup! Bugs, get that carrot ready. We're ridin' off into the Tumblr sunset with these fantastic choices! 🌅🤠 #BugsAndSamAdventures #FunnyBugs #TreasureHuntin Feel free to adjust the dialogue, add more characters, or tailor the prompts to fit your blog's theme and the vibe you're aiming for! 🐰💬

#bugs #birds

[thiswasinevitableid]

98. I’ve been hired to kill you, but you don’t seem that concerned???

Super/vigilante/mercenary au? I feel like it would be really cool if one of them has known the other’s secret identity for a while but doesn’t have anything against them. The two have also been becoming /close/ friends with mutual pining, so the hit is actually just a good excuse to reveal their identity before asking them out. Indruck, nsfw, please!

Here you go! I tried to work in as much of this as I could

Content warning for mentions of guns and mentions of death

It’s a dark and stormy night, because of course it fucking is.

Indrid steers the borrowed car down the street, rain hammering the car while his heart tries chiseling it’s way from his chest. He doesn’t want to be here, circling the block like a shark on a reef, the light from the top floor, left corner of the apartment building telling him there’s no pretending his prey isn’t home. He doesn’t want to think about the instructions he burned, the lethal object hidden in his clothes.

He doesn’t want to kill Duck Newton.

“Excuse me, but I have a rather odd question; which of these trails is the least traveled?”

The ranger looks up from the map between them, grin friendly and a little lopsided, “Lookin to do some birdwatchin or somethin?”

“I like to draw but I, ah, I also get easily overwhelmed by crowds.”

“Try this one” The man circles a trailhead, “not super popular this time of year. Watch out for mud.”

“I shall, thank you.”

He didn’t.

Which is why he’s back in the visitor center, trying to get enough of the mud off so that driving home isn’t miserable. Worse, the ranger from earlier walks in, takes one look at him, and snickers.

“I tried! Truly, I was careful, but there was this-”

“Patch of stones in the trail?”

“...Yes. How did you know?”

“Fell flat on my ass two days ago thanks to them. Wait here a sec.” The door swings shut, then opens again while Indrid is rinsing mud from his glasses. The ranger holds out a packet of body wipes, “this’ll get the worst of it.”

“Thank you ranger...Newton.”

That same smile, reaching a pair of mismatched eyes, “Just call me Duck. It’s a nickname.”

Indrid parks in a spot far from any streetlights or cameras, pulls the hood of his sweatshirt over his head and starts towards the apartment complex.

“These are fascinating.” Indrid peers over the edge of the dock at the early blooming bulbs.

“Glad you like ‘em, thought they might be alley after you showed me those drawings of the marsh.”

He imagines Duck seeing the flowers on his rounds and thinking not of the seasons, the weather, the way their petals look near the water, but of him. It’s the sweetest thought anyone’s ever spared for him.

The lobby door opens easily, courtesy of the copy of the keycard left in his mailbox. He knows he should take the stairs; fewer people use them.

He calls the elevator.

“Duck? The sign on the door is, that’s just temporary right?”

“Nope.” Duck sets his hat on the counter, runs a hand right through the grey streak in his hair, “they’re closin the whole park until further notice, which is probably gonna be never. Laid all of us off.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“S’okay.”

Even Indrid could tell it wasn’t. That from their occasional conversations, Duck’s work was akin to his heart, kept life flowing through him on even the roughest days. The assignment had told him not to worry, that he was almost doing his target a favor, ending a life he wanted over anyway.

Indrid knocks on the door, tossing his options about in his mind as slow footsteps approach. He could do what he was sent here for. Or he could offer Duck Newton something to brighten his days.

The door opens, Duck standing there in boxers, a plain white t-shirt, and a confused expression.

“Indrid? Jesus, come in, you're fuckin soaked. This is some storm.”

“At least it will help with the drought.” Indrid closes the door, slips off his shoes, lets Duck take his sweatshirt to hang near the heater, angling his body so he won’t see or feel the handgun tucked in his waistband.

“Yeah. Assumin it don’t just mudslide all the hills that lost their cover durin fire season.” Duck sighs, plops down on the couch, “sorry, ain’t exactly in a chipper mood.”

“That’s sort of why I came to see you. I, ah, I wanted to see how you were getting on after the park closing.”

Duck gestures to the messy apartment, then at himself.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Not unless you got enough money to reopen the park indefinitely.”

He chuckles, “I wish I did.” He picks up a small, wooden ship, “goodness, did you make this?”

“Yep. Know it’s an old man hobby but, uh, I dunno. I just like makin stuff. Putting things into the world, even if it’s just a model ship on the shelf or a mint plant on the windowsill.” His smile is tired, but there’s a determination to it that makes up Indrid’s mind for him. He’s about to make his offer when Duck adds, “mind grabbin me some water since you’re closer to the kitchen? Cups are in the middle cabinet.”

“Of course.” Indrid crosses into the small kitchen, mind wandering to what their first date will entail as he sets his hands on two glasses.

The cold metal at the base of his neck hurtles him back to earth.

“Someone set you up, slim.”

“I, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Duck’s hand goes instantly to Indrid’s gun, pulling it free and tossing it away before roughly patting him up and down. The barrel on his skin never wavers.

“Duck, please, I, I can explain.”

“No need to. Thought you seemed familiar, went diggin and found out who you work for. Bet you thought I hadn’t seen your nine mil, but I ain’t lived this long by bein careless.”

“I don’t understand. The file they gave me didn’t say anything about this.”

A bitter chuckle, “Wasn’t always a ranger, slim. The fact they didn’t tell you that makes me think they’re hopin I off you, not the other way around.”

“But, but I didn’t do anything.” The crack in his voice is why he was never cut out for this, he told them that, over and over again.

“And you ain’t gonna.”

“Duck please I, I wasn’t going to do what they told me.”

“If your bosses are who I think, then helpin me would be a goddamn death wish on your part.”

“It would have been worth it. One date with you would have been worth whatever they did to me if they caught me after I ran.”

“That’s mighty funny” the barrel disappears, and the ghost of a kiss takes it’s place, “I was busy weighing whether askin you out was worth the risk of gettin shot.”

Duck sets the Glock on the counter as Indrid slumps against it, turning to find the ranger watching him carefully.

“What do we do now?” He sort of wants him to kiss him, sort of wants to storm out and find whoever thought he could be gotten rid of so easily.

“I say we-” Duck freezes as three, sharp knocks come from the door. He crouches to the floor, Indrid following him. The ranger grabs Indrid’s gun from the floor, whispers, “stay put, follow my lead.” Then he calls, “who is it?”

“I have a package for you to sign for, Mr. Newton.”

“Be right there. Actually” he lowers his voice slightly, “uh, Indrid, you’re right by the door, could you-”

The shot breaks the wood right where Indrid’s head would be. Duck fires two shots, both of them sighing when there’s a tell-tale thump of body meeting carpet.

“Glad yours had the silencer. Buys us some time, but someone is bound to come outta their apartment eventually and find the fucker.”

“Our hitmen also have to report completion within a certain time frame or back-up is sent. And no, I can’t do it for him, it has to be voice contact.” Indrid stands, calmer than a moment ago; this part he knows.

“Good to know. In that case, slim,” he raises an eyebrow, “think it’s time you and I take a vacation.”

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

“You really got no clue what they’re after you for?” Duck winds them along highway 50 as the sun peers anxiously over the horizon.

“None.” Indrid fishes out the roll of mini doughnuts he bought near Donner Lake, the first place Duck had deemed safe to stop since they left the coast. They’re in his car, Indrid knowing full well the one he borrowed has a tracking device installed, “I’m mostly a numbers man; they give me scenarios and I give them likely outcomes. I, ah, I also helped with clean up, but I suspect they did that when they were annoyed I’d given them what they thought was an inaccurate prediction. I don’t like the aftermath of disasters, even if they’re small. And I was never, ever assigned a hit until last night” He worries a hangnail, “I thought they were satisfied with my work. Even if they weren’t, they could easily do away with me. There was no point in sending me on a fake mission and hoping you’d kill me instead.”

“Unless they got something against me too, which they could.” Duck drums on the wheel, “I, uh, I joined a, uh, guess you’d call ‘em a vigilante group when I was younger. I was eighteen and they recruited me, sayin how there were certain folks who were chosen to protect the world from evil. I avoided it for a few years, but they were persistent, and honestly I thought I could make a difference. That we were just protectin folks who the system didn’t. And we did. Kinda.”

Indrid offers him a doughnut, which he takes and chews before continuing

“Trouble was, not everyone agreed on who needed protectin. It got so convoluted and so goddamn dangerous that I decided I wanted out. Wanted to spend the rest of my life makin things grow, lookin out for the woods, that kinda thing. It almost worked. But if I could go back in time to talk to that kid, I’d tell ‘im there are enemies you can’t unmake, things you can’t undo.”

“Very true.” Indrid murmurs, “I suppose I’d tell myself I did not blame him for throwing in with who he had to in order to survive.”

“Pretty sure that’s what you’re doin’ now, too.”

“No.” Indrid shakes his head, “right now I am on the run with someone I like a great deal.”

Duck flashes him a smile, flips the blinker to turn them into the only sign of civilization for miles; a cluster of buildings calling itself Cold Springs Station. The groggy teen at the counter gives them the key to a cramped cabin.

Indrid tosses his bag--the one he hid in the trunk of the borrowed car, knowing the likely outcome of his visit would involve flight of some kind--down on the right side of the bed, Duck doing the same on the left. It’s only when they’re under the covers, both half-asleep, that he notices he forgot something.

“Drat. I meant to stick something plush in my bag. I, ah” he blushes, “I sleep much better with something to cuddle.”

A strong arm drapes over his waist while Duck tucks his head under Indrid’s head, “how’s that?”

Indrid winds his limbs around him, feeling like a little kid who’s just had his favorite teddy bear returned to him after hours of tearful searching, “perfect.”

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

The plan is to weave through the Southwest like a drunk bee before turning North; they need to put off visiting any places with friends or family for as long as they can. They spent a morning on the floor of a run down motel with a map and some pens, marking off the safest routes and places they’d like to visit. Duck picks state parks, Indrid any place likely to have lots of sweet food.

Whenever they stop for the night, they never bother asking for two beds. While they’ve yet to go further, Indrid delights in waking Duck with a kiss on the cheek each morning.

On the Nevada border Indrid spends two hours playing Blackjack, counting cards enough to win several thousand dollars but not enough to get caught. In a pizza place outside of Salt Lake, Duck wins Indrid a stuffed mothman from a claw machine (“just in case you gotta sleep alone some time”).

And fifty miles from Alamogordo, they get into trouble.

Indrid carries his weapon near constantly, but he really didn’t think he needed it at the Motel 6 Breakfast Buffet. When the man waiting for the waffle maker next to him says “outside, Cold, let’s get this over with” he goes still, wishing they’d at least given him time to eat.

Then he hurls his scalding mocha into the man’s face, striking him in the ribs and breaking his nose before he even hits the floor. Orange and red liquid splashes his face, two shots hitting the juice dispenser behind him. The other two assassins don’t get a second chance to fire; Duck takes out one with a chair, jabs the other with the splintered leg, and gathers both their guns with an ease that Indrid admires.

As they’re sprinting for the parking lot, Indrid slapping an extra two hundred dollars on the lobby desk in apology, he realizes admiration doesn’t quite capture his feelings. Duck is so calm in the face of danger, so commanding, and so very, very...hot.

The moment he allows himself that thought is the moment he dooms his focus for the remainder of the day. He contributes to the planning of their next stop, to driving and watching the mirror for cars that follow for too long, but his mind is back in the dining room, hoping Duck will turn the fire in his eyes onto Indrid, bend him over the beige table and take him while the people who tried to hurt them whimper and bleed on the floor.

“‘Drid? I’m gonna go shower, didn’t get a chance this mornin. You wanna scope out dinner?”

“Of course, but I fear it might be the vending machine special again.”

“Eh, I can live with that, especially if they got those Oreo packets.” Duck blows him a kiss and shuts the bathroom door.

Duck’s showers are between five and six minutes in length; Indrid’s certain he can get himself off in that time. He slips his pajama pants down, spits in his hand, and pretends the fingers pressing on his neck are not his own. That Duck’s voice is in his ear the same way it was that first night, low and so firm Indrid has no choice but to bend.

“You droppin hints, slim?” Duck leans in the bathroom doorway, towel around his waist.

He bolts upright, pants tangled around his knees, “Nono, I’m, I’m so sorry, I thought you were going to be a few minutes more.”

“Wanted to shave and forgot my dop kit. Now I’m kinda disappointed that I was gonna miss the show.”

“I, ah, I, it doesn’t bother you?”

“Thought we established we were into each other.” Duck’s smile falters, “wait, fuck, if you decided you ain’t I’ll back the fuck off.”

“No!” Indrid crawls to the edge of the bed nearest Duck, not caring how silly he must look, “it’s the opposite, I want you even more now than I did when we started this trip. After this morning I--ah, never mind. The point is, I would very much like to get you into bed sooner rather than later.”

“How about now?”

“Only if you…” Indrid’s brain screeches to a stop as Duck drops his towel. Now he understands where the urge to create phallic sculptures comes from; he wants to preserve this sight for all time.

“Glad you approve.” Duck chuckles, joins him on the bed, “gotta say the, uh, feelin’s mutual.” He slides a hand along Indrid’s dick, gone soft from his alarm, and lets out an approving groan as it hardens against his palm, “that’s it, sugar, get excited for me.”

“If I get any more excited I will explode.”

“Can’t have that, it’s a pain to clean blood off of walls by yourself” a kiss finds his cheek, “you got a preference for how we do this?”

“I, I’d like to, ah, receive. At least for tonight. Is that alright?”

“Hell yeah.” Duck growls, abandoning him on the bed and laughing when he whines, “gimme two seconds, slim, then I’ll take care of you.” Two condoms and a small bottle of lube bonk into Indrid’s foot, “packed those just in case. You’re gonna get one of ‘em out and open yourself up for me while tellin me just what got you so riled up. Shirt off, c’mon, get to it.”

The gruff tone means Indrid is blushing on every inch of skin by the time he’s fully naked. As Duck’s gaze moves over him, all traces of dominance wash away, leaving expression tender when their eyes finally meet.

“Christ, ‘Drid, you look better than ever coulda pictured. Shoulda been bookin more places with pools just to get you shirtless.”

“It’s January, dear.”

“Hot tubs, then.” Duck nudges him onto his back by kissing his shoulder, and the sight of the ranger above him reminds Indrid’s fingers what they should be doing. He fumbles the condom open, gasps when one digit feels like a massive intrusion.

“Easy slim, easy, you’re probably still tense from this mornin.”

“I thought that much was obvious.” Indrid grins as Duck bends to kiss his collarbone.

“It is, so start tellin me what got you so horny you jerked off the first free second you had.”

“It’s a, a bit embarrassing OH, ohthat'snice” he sighs as Duck kisses a slow trail towards his hips, “but I find the moments when you demonstrate a certain...ruthlessness in-incredibly arousing.” He wiggles his hips happily as Duck drags his lips across his belly.

“Keep goin.”

“You’re brave, and calm even when things are awful, and that makes me feel so very safe with you. But then there are those times when I remember how dangerous you could be, AHnnn” the second finger goes in easier than the first, “that when it, it comes down to it you are more seasoned in lethal matters than I am and I, you could render me utterly helpless, have me, use me, hurt me, but instead you offer me more tenderness than I deserve.” He glances down to where Duck’s chin rests on his chest, the ranger’s eyes overflowing with affection.

“You want the gentle me or the rough one tonight?” Duck tucks a strand of Indrid’s silver hair behind his ear.

“Rough.” It’s so quiet he’s amazed Duck hears it.

“Okay. In that case-”

“AHgod!” Indrid’s hand is pulled free as Duck first flips him over and then hauls him onto his knees.

“Hands on the wall. Now.”

Indrid sets his palms on peeling grey paint as foil crinkles behind him. When the head of Duck’s cock rubs his entrance he whimpers, hoping the prep was enough.

“Here’s how this is gonna go; I’m gonna use this cute little ass however long and however hard I want, and you;re gonna keep your hands there the whole fuckin time. You move, or you mouth off, and I shove some fingers in along with my dick just to remind you who’s boss.”

“Ohhhhhyes” Indrid rests his forehead on the wall.

“It gets to be too much, say stop.” A kiss to his neck, “much as I wanna ruin you, wanna be good to you even more.”

“Understood. Now please, please fuck meEEEh, ohgoodnessAH, ahhhgod.” He scratches the wall as Duck stretches him open, the prep proving enough but only just and tears pricking his eyes by the time Duck bottoms out.

One hand stays on his hip while Duck’s right arm wraps around his chest, keeping them close, “Fuuuck, now I see what your job was; ass this nice, you were the fuckin cocksleeve for the entire Organization, weren’t you?”

“Not at all” Indrid rolls his hips at the taunt in Duck’s voice, “I was a very valuable asset.”

“Yeah, I’ll say you’re an asset.” A sharp thrust, the menace of which is broken by Duck giggling at his own joke, Indrid hiding his face in his arm to do the same.

“I say in, ahgod, an office all day, no one saw me, I was not h-hired for my looks, I promise you.”

“If you say so. I say it’s their. Fuckin. Loss.” Three thrusts and Indrid’s cock is dripping onto the pillows, and he moans as Duck settles into a demanding rhythm.

“Got another theory for you, slim.”

“D-do tell.” Whether the stammering is from his teeth clacking together or his thoughts being bounced around his brain from the force of Duck pounding into him, he can’t say.

“I think you stuck around as long as you did because you get off on it danger.”

Indrid sucks in a breath, whimpers, “No. I, I was there because I was apprenticed out and, as you knowOH it’s, it’s hard to leave such places.”

Fingers on his throat, pressing but not squeezing, “Liar. Bet you got off at least once a day, let everyone from the hired hits to higher ups cum in you as long as they made you think they could off someone. Oh fuck, heh, you like that?” Duck smirks as Indrid tries to fuck himself in time with the pumps of his hips.

“Yes, goodness, I’d never want it, only want you, but, but the idea is divine.”

“Too bad, because now you’re all mine and anyone who tries to take you is gonna be in for a world of hurt.”

His climax curls in his stomach, begging him to touch himself and free it, but he’s determined to be good.

“Duck, please let me cum, please, it’s so good but I can’t-”

“I’ll help you out sugar, don’t worry. But you gotta do one thing first.” Duck nips his ear, “say you’re my personal toy from now on. C’mon” the fingers on his throat tighten, “say i-”

“I’m yours, I’m your toy, only you can have me, you can do whatever you wish to me and I’ll take it with a smile, anything, sweetheart, please, pleasepleasepleaseAHhhhn.” His cum splatters on the wall, Duck’s hand leaving his dick the instant it does to dig his fingers into both hips and fuck up into him with ecstatic groans.

“That’s it sugar, take it, be good for me and lemme fuck you until you can’t move, ohfuck, fuck, ‘Drid, yes, fuckyes.” He holds him tight as he cums, breath warm against his back. Then he’s pulling out and slumping forward as Indrid falls back into his arms.

“Ooops” he snickers, spotting the cum, “still easier to clean than blood.”

“Indeed.” Indrid bites his lip, “I, that was wonderful but there’s one thing more I would like. Will you kiss me.” He looks over his shoulder to say it. Duck cups his face, turns it so he can bring their lips together. It’s far slower and twice as tender as anything else they’ve done together.

“Can’t believe I forgot to do that until now. Gonna kiss you silly.” Duck kisses him again as Indrid turns in his lap. When he pulls back, his face is serious, “Y’know, it’s easy to be brave and calm when I’m doin’ it for you. You make me feel like I can face any goddamn thing, long as it’s for your sake. That make sense?”

Indrid studies his face in the half-shaded light from the bedside lamp, sees the curves and colors, sees the man he was willing to run away for.

“Yes, sweetheart, it does.”

#indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #meet ugly #hitman au #I guess? #assassin au

[nightingaelic]

@shotce​

As soon as Eugenie caught sight of Libby Wen waiting inside the doors of Big Bend Tunnel, she laughed with joy and wrapped her up in a hug. Libby submitted to the display of affection, even joining in with a little chuckle. “Long time, no see, Eugenie. How are you? How’s everyone up at your compound?” 

“Oh, they’re just great, Libby, and I’m glad to hear you ask.” Eugenie released the guard and straightened her ushanka. “I’m good, too. Better now that you’re at the helm, Kieran ‘n’ I had a rough run last time.” 

“So I’ve heard.” 

“Yep, he’s takin’ a break for a bit to go visit his family and nurse that arm of his.” Eugenie shifted the pack on her shoulders and sighed regretfully. “Honestly, the man deserves it. He’s been good to me, even if he’s about as fun to talk to as a pile of scorchbeast guano.” 

Libby nodded. “Bet you a drink he’ll be back too early, as usual. He just can’t stay away.” 

“Well, neither can I.” Eugenie’s black eyes sparkled. “Shall we get moving? Deadlines, expected shipments, all that.” 

“Right.” Libby raised her shotgun and turned to the other guards, a pack of part-timers looking for a quick cap. “Fall in! Same objective as always: Keep the brahmin safe while en route to the west end of the tunnel. Expect armed resistance, we always get some.” 

“Same load as usual, premium arms and ammo headed up to the settlers crazy enough to colonize the Savage Divide,” Eugenie added. “Same reward at the end of the tunnel too, so keep us all in one piece and we won’t have a problem. And keep an eye out for anything we might’ve dropped on the last run, you get a bonus for those.” 

“Everyone watch our back and flanks.” Libby slapped the closest brahmin on rump, and the caravan began to move. They made their way up to the watch station, where another guard was waiting to welcome them. 

“Libby and Eugenie, together at last,” the gas-masked guard said, before growing too cocky and adding a wolf whistle. “I pity the Blood Eagle who decides to get on your bad side, ladies.” 

“The only one gettin’ on my bad side so far today is you, ya hooligan,” Eugenie replied with a glare. “Anything to report, or are ya wastin’ the air in here?” 

“Eugenie,” Libby warned, though she was smirking at the merchant’s spirited defense. 

“What? Just protectin’ my best guard from vicious rumors.” 

“There’s uh- it should be pretty clear today,” the masked guard stammered, before turning to face the yawning darkness of the tunnel. 

“That’s what I thought.” Eugenie shot one last withering look at his back before prodding the brahmin to continue. 

“He’s an asshole,” Libby confided, once the caravan was out of earshot of the entrance guard. “Keeps prodding me and Carver about whether we’ve ‘stopped dancing around and gotten down to business.’“ 

“That squirrelly kid you’re usually stuck with? Man, used to be a simple ‘no’ meant ‘no,’ and everyone backed you up on it.” Eugenie shook her head. “Unless you two actually are straying beyond business.” 

“Pffft.” Libby rolled her eyes. “I don’t usually go for the squirrelly ones.” 

“Is he a good partner, at least?” 

“He’s fine. A little green, and I get the sense he’d rather be anywhere else when we actually run into some action.” 

Action reared its head at that moment, when the group interrupted a band of Blood Eagles attempting to set up a blockade. The caravan guards dispatched them quickly, and Libby easily disintegrated the few concrete blocks the assailants had managed to lay down with a small charge. 

“Easy now,” she called to the others when the rubble had cleared. “Don’t let them get the drop on us.” 

“Huh,” Eugenie remarked when they were underway again. “Usually the ‘ghoul merchant’ heralds a louder fanfare. They must be saving their big guns for up ahead.”

Sure enough, the Blood Eagles had gathered their main forces in the high-ceilinged center of the tunnel to block their escape. Libby cursed and emptied shells into every body she saw, while Eugenie whooped and took potshots at the enemies’ captain from behind a pile of sandbags. The caravan managed to beat back the assault with only minor injuries, though the brahmin were as agitated as Libby had ever seen them, lowing nervously and knocking into each other. A part-timer raised the gate the Blood Eagles had constructed, and the supplies train moved forward. 

“I’m always in awe of how much of a professional you are,” Eugenie remarked with an admiring glance at the lead guard. 

“Thank the crew as much as me,” Libby said with a smile. “Drinks all around after our shift today. I know a vault dweller who makes a mean Blackwater Brew knock-off.” 

“How’re your folks doing, Libby? How’s the rest of the Wen crew?” 

“No changes there.” Libby shrugged. “My sister’s getting a little restless, maybe because of the example I’m setting by working out here. Mom would never forgive her if she left, too, but she’s going to have to face that decision sooner or later. I told her she has a place with Blue Ridge, if she wants it and is willing to work for it.” 

Eugenie nodded. “That’s tough. I know what it’s like to decide whether to stay with what you know, what’s safe, versus taking a chance and heading out to see the world.” 

Libby raised her fist suddenly and brought the caravan to a halt. “Watch our six. Something isn’t right here.” 

“Oh, goody.” 

Blood Eagles and their snarling mutts emerged from the shadows in a last-ditch effort to seize the caravan’s goods, and bullets flew. Eugenie pulled Libby backward just in time to avoid a swing from a particularly brave individual’s machete, and Libby ended the attempt on her life with a shotgun blast to the face. “Head for the exit!” she yelled, as soon as there was a lull in the gunfire. “Let’s move, double time!” 

“Make a break for it, people!” Eugenie added. “Go, go, go!” 

The brahmin didn’t need any more prompting, and the cows galumphed their way toward the western entrance as fast as their stumpy legs could carry them. Libby, Eugenie and the others pounded after them, and the light of the Ash Heap fell warm on their faces as more Blue Ridge Caravan Company employees pried the doors open. 

“Well, thank god for that,” Eugenie said in relief, feeling her leather armor up for any punctures. “I’m alive, and I’ve still got wares to sell.” 

“Mission accomplished,” Libby said breathlessly, hanging her shotgun over her back. “Let’s head outside everyone.” 

“Thanks, Libby,” Eugenie added as the two of them brought up the rear. “Like I tell everyone who asks, things always run smoother with you in charge.” 

“You’re a gem, Eugenie. If my shift were over, I’d say let’s grab a drink.” 

In answer, Eugenie pulled a bottle of beer from inside one of her brahmin’s packs and popped the cap off. “Blackwater Brew, like you said. I’m pretty sure you and I know the same vault dweller. And don’t worry, I won’t tell Vinny if you won’t.” 

Libby grinned and drank deeply. “You’re full of surprises, Eugenie.” 

#fallout #fallout 76 #fo76 #blue ridge caravan company #blue ridge caravan #big bend tunnel #eugenie #libby wen #appalachia #drabble #drabbles

[fictionally0bsessed]

Mammon x MC one shot/Fic

Just something I whipped up listening to these two songs lol. BIGBANG - FANTASTIC BABY

And Cobra Starship - Hot Mess

EDIT: Taio Cruz - Troublemaker for the dancing scene.. It fits xD

I am calling it a one-shot or fanfic just because it turned out a lot longer than expected. I haven’t proof read it so apologies if some of it doesn’t make sense. I just sat down and typed lol. Either way, hope it is enjoyed. I might edit it again at a later stage or delve further into it, depending on the feedback received.

Warnings: dirty dancing, sexual tension, a wee bit of violence

Word Count: 2357                                                                                                                                                                                                                            Mammon had manage to twist your arm into accompanying him to the local casino. It sounded like it'd be fun. Apparently there was a club upstairs and a pool and spa outside on the deck of the building. You didn't particularly feel like taking a swim, and you'd heard all about the heat demons preferred their waters to be at. No way did you feel like being boiled alive like a lobster. Honestly, you had wanted to let your hair down and have some fun. It had been a while, the club sounded like your best bet.

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

Instead, here you were sipping your drink through a straw watching as Mammon was repeatedly losing at a poker game, only to make an incredible comeback after a few rounds. He'd give you a knowing wink every time he won. You just rolled your eyes looking around the room for something anything more interesting. Right now, Mammon was too interested in the game and his promise of a good night for both of you had left his mind completely. That's The avatar of Greed for you, you thought to yourself with a small bit of affection towards the white haired demon.

He'd just won another round and was pulling a ton of chips towards him, grinning from ear to ear like a Cheshire cat, his greedy eyes gleaming. You sigh and smile as he then looked over to you. "Check it out, didn't doubt THE Mammon for a minute did ya?" he leans over to you, shoulder ever so slightly touching yours. You rolled your eyes, grinning and pushed his face away with your hand. "Glad someone's having fun," and you were, but the alcohol you'd been sipping on was urging you to find the fun you wanted.

 As Mammon went back to placing down more bets you looked up at the roof, listening to the bass thumping ever so lightly. The demons in the massive gaming lobby didn't seem to mind. You found your heart and mind wandering. It had been a while since you actually went and had a dance. Sure you'd watch the demons' dance out their battles, but it wasn't the same as just letting loose. Another drink was served to you in which you quickly skulled down. Mammon was still busy looking and thinking deeply about his cards. Time to move.

You got out of your chair and started for the stairs leading up, turning around to see that Mammon hadn't noticed you leave. A passing demon butler bowed to you and held out a tray of drinks. "A drink for the human?" he smiled at you. You quickly grabbed one of the glasses and downed that one too. Putting the glass back down on the tray you turned on your heel racing towards the stairs without so much as a thank you to the demon. Another set of demonic eyes watched as your farm ran from the one guarding you. Mammon still hadn't noticed you leave as a dark figure moved through the room behind the Greedy demon.

 With a deep breath and hands on knees you had finally made it to the door of the club. As you stood up your head swam and felt light. Probably shouldn't have skulled those drinks earlier but... YOLO! It was dark in the foyer, only the pulsating lights emanating from under the doors illuminated the room a little. The door handles were neon as well, so as to be able to find them. It was already loud in the hall as your hands reached for the doors. You were practically brimming with excitement as your hands reached for the way in, giddy on the spot you watched another hand grab your wrist from behind. Thinking it'd only be Mammon you went to throw the hand off and swing around, only to have your mouth covered by another one. "Mmphf." A chest pushed against your back. This certainly is some joke, Mammon.

In one swift movement you seen the demon get thrown to the side of the room and a hand grabbed your arm to stop you from sailing with it. Looking to the demon who, in fact wasn't Mammon, crumpled on the floor you heard a familiar voice speaking over the music, hand still grasping your arm, albeit a near vice grip on it. "What do ya think you're doin' leavin' my side?!"

You turned to Mammon then, trying to shrug his hand off, seeing he was in demon form and looking rather angry. "OK, well I'm sorry, I just wanted to-"

"Ya could've been killed!" he cut you off. His eyes flashed a little as he spoke. "I'm meant ta be protectin' ya but how am I s'posed to do that when you're always wanderin' off?!" his words sliced the air but his grip lessened. "What if I lost ya, are ya crazy?"

 His last sentence was said in a lot softer tone.

 Mammon horns started retreating back into his head and his form returned to normal in front of you. "I just wanted to have some fun, and gambling isn't my kinda fun, Mammon." Your arms folded across your chest in annoyance.

"Yeah but didn't ya see the money I made?" he smiled then, eyes closed. You rolled your eyes again, this time huffing. Grabbing his arm now you dragged him towards the doors of the club and reefed them open. "We're dancing," maybe it was the fact you'd been in the Devildom for a while, and was nearly used to having your life threatened, maybe it was the alcohol talking, but this time it was your turn for fun, and if he wasn't going to let you do it without him, then he was coming with you.

"MC, wait!" you, being smaller than he was you were able to make your way through the dancing demon bodies, eyes watching you as human heat touched demonic skin, fairly easily. He was pushing demons out of the way, one that was moving to follow you Mammon wasn't as polite to and shoved the demon extra hard, added a quick life threatening glance as he made his own way through.

You slowed down and turned, you'd found a spot that was a little less crowded. The bass boomed through your body, reverberating in all the right ways. The music was taking you in. Mammon reached you then, yelling over the music he looked around warily and back to you, "These demons in here all wanna eat ya, ya know that right?" His eyes were flicking to the various staring eyes and various moving bodies around the room. "I'm not the only one who can smell ya human scent."

You moved closer to him then, holding one of his hands pressing yourself against him, his eyes quickly flicked back down to you then and a blush on his cheeks as you pressed your body into him. Was it the atmosphere making you so bold? Your mouth moved to his ear, his heat radiating onto your flushed cheeks, "Then dance with me, and show them I'm not here alone."

He shivered against you and as you leaned back down you watched his eyes full of wonder and surprise.

 Letting his hand go you took a few steps back and swaying in rhythm to the music. Your eyes closed, allowing the sound of the beat flood your mind and guide your body. As the music thumped you began rolling the up half of your body and hips followed along in time. Your hands moved into the back of your hair as you swung your head.

Mammon stood there arms crossed, and eyeing off the demons that were also dancing but their eyes were focussed on you and lips were being licked. He looked pretty pissed, so you stepped still in rhythm over to him and grabbed his jacket. "Oi, no. We need ta -" pulling him closer that his body pressed against you for the second time that night. He felt so warm that a rush of heat flushed over your own body. Looking into his eyes, swinging your arms around the back of his neck you swayed your hips inviting him to hold them. His cheeks and neck were alive with a red blush you noticed in quick flash of lighting amidst the blue hue. It made you giggle, filling you with all thoughts of ways to get him flustered enough to dance.

 A voice boomed over the music close to your ear, "Do you want to dance pretty little thing?" Mammon hadn't noticed the demon close in on you two, being too fixated on you and what you were doing to him. His hands quickly moved possessively to rest on your waist. Turns out that jealousy was all he needed.

Mammon eyed the demon until he back away then his gaze moved to you again. "Fine," it was his turn to roll his eyes. "But don't think for a secon' I'm gonna be enjoyin' this. I'm only keepin' you safe is all." You beamed then, and began to move with more excitement than you had. As your hips swayed with more fever, Mammon's hands slowly made their way down to sit on  them allowing you to guide how he also moved.

He was tense against your body, and felt hotter around his neck than he had done a moment ago but he couldn't take his eyes of the way your body convulsed and rolled in time with the music and feeling you move this way against him - he couldn't deny he was loving it. Your scent was tickling his nose and causing hungry thoughts to ravage and beat at the doors of his mind. You swung around then so your back was against his chest, and your arse swayed against his own moving body. Intentionally you moved your arms back up and ran a hand down from his shoulder as you dipped and moved back up.

Mammon's hands moved back to your hips as you stood but kept sliding up and down against your hips and waist, one hand pushing your top up ever so slightly and you shivered with the feeling of skin on skin contact. His hand left a burning trail where it roamed. Mammon's face moved to reset in the crook of your neck between the arm you kept over the back of his shoulder. His body was pushing into your back with more force, his hands and arms drawing you in close. The familiar feel of arousal pitted in your stomach when you felt him take a long sniff in against your skin. An arm scooping around your middle, the other still caressing your side. "Ya smell different, ya smell good," he voiced in your ear. Even with the music deafening, you could hear a rasp in voice, making it sound husky. Again another wave of heat burnt through your body at his words and tone. Pushing back in against him, too his grip on you wasn't budging. It was almost like he was holding onto you to keep himself grounded, like he might float off is he dared to let go.

It wasn't far off the truth. He growled, low, a noise you hadn't heard from the demon before, not like that. A small quirk made it's way to your lips and you signalled with body movements you wanted to turn to face him again. He allowed it, and you spun moving your arms again to rest over his shoulders. You couldn't deny that you were being caught up in the sex-fueled atmosphere of the room. You drew in again towards him, again body pressed flush against him, though he seemed to be keeping his lower half out a little. His yellow and blue hued eyes were half lidded, and there was a hunger in them. It sparked you once again inside your gut, that familiar arousal again. You couldn't deny you'd always been attracted to the demon. Always getting in trouble together, causing havoc and playing pranks around the House of Lamentation. But seeing him looking at you the way he was right now, it was your turn to blush.

In such a close proximity you could see his nostrils flare as he breathed, was he.. smelling you? Your eyes must have reflected the thoughts starting to flood your mind. He moved down close to your ear and neck again, you shivered. The tension at the moment between you was nearly palpable. His fingers moved up your flimsy shirt and touched the skin of your back and then retreated as if you'd set him on fire. Moving his face away but enough to speak so you could hear, "Follow me," he grabbed your hand and pulled you over to a wall. In one swift move he spun and rested his back against it lazily and legs slightly open he pulled you forcefully into his embrace, and spoke low into your ear. At this point you had both hands against his chest and honestly quite shocked that you couldn't move, standing between his legs and pressed against him like this.

"I can smell ya," he repeated, this confused you. Of course he could, you had had it made clear in the first couple of days in the Devildom that you smelled like prey. You looked up at him, your lips slightly parted and your bafflement at his words clear on your face in question. He looked beautiful in this light but was hesitant to answer you. "We need ta get you home," he lamented, not giving you any answers. He looked like he was battling a war within himself. He couldn't decide something, but he also looked really concerned all of a sudden and looking around the room again. You followed his gaze, noticing his hand still on your back. There were a lot of eyes on you now, and they all reflected a hunger that you'd seen in the demon against you. You turned back to face him.

"OK," you nodded with a little disappointed beading in your heart. "Let's go home."

#Obey Me! #Obey Me! Mammon #x reader #reader insert #gender neutral #Shall we date? #swd #swd obey me #obey me #Mammon #club #dancing #scent #smell

[gcrminatorarchive]

Os, does Ais have you in her body? Is she your host that you just protect? What's it like protecting her?

“A’course! I always got Ais’ back! Hector ain’t th’only body I protect, y’know. When she needs me, you can bet I’ll be there for ‘er!

Protectin’ Ais is easy as pie! She got a pretty good immune system, which means she hardly ever gets sick. And she drinks lotsa fluids, which is great! She needs ta exercise a lil’ more and lay off th’junk food though, but other’n that, she’s in pretty good shape! She doesn’t smoke ‘er drink eitha’, which means she’s gonna live a long time.”

// I sure hope so. And thanks, Ozzy!

“You got it, baby! I got’chu.”

#Out of the Body. (OOC.) #Hes such a great boy i love him so much ;; #Grayfaces. #Munday.

[lotsofthinkythoughts]

for the writing meme: rose tyler and aziraphale #48. “Now, just hold on a diddly darn minute.”

((Oh god. I LOVE YOU. Thank you so much for sending me this. It turned out slightly differently than I planned, but hopefully you still like it!))

----

“Wait.”

Rose stopped, ice cream cone dripping onto her hand as she turned to stare at Aziraphale. 

“What?”

“You’ve never been to France. You said so. We talked about crepes.”

“I… yeah, I’ve never been to France. So?”

“How could you have met Madame de Pompadour if you’ve never been to France?” 

Rose looked down. “Rather not talk about it, if it’s all the same.”

Aziraphale was many things. He wasn’t much of a liar himself. But he could tell that Rose was hiding. The bow of her head, the way she let the ice cream in her hand droop, and more than that the splinter in the aura of joy and love she radiated always. But what could she have to hide? 

(It was one of the things he’d most enjoyed since the strange time travelers had run into them during the Notpocalypse. Rose had an aura that no angel could ignore. The fact that she had a travelling companion whose face matched his demon’s was an… interesting fringe benefit. It also hadn’t taken long for said alien and demon to start comparing vehicles, at which point Rose and tugged him away. “The Doctor’ll be at that for hours. Unless you like watching ‘im argue might as well find something better to do.” “What did you have in mind?” “Chips? I can always go for chips. Or food in general. ‘M starvin’.”

“How do you feel about crepes?”

“I dunno. Never had ‘em.”

Aziraphale gasped and threw a look back at the arguing beings in across the street. They’d be lucky if the two emerged this century. “Well, you and I will have to correct that.”

“Bet you ten quid they don’t even notice we’re gone.”

He shook his head. “I’m an angel. I don’t gamble.”

“Never?”

“Never. And certainly not on bets I’m bound to lose.”

Rose laughed, and that had been that.) 

He nodded, and the moment slipped past like a fish slipping a hook. Rose went back to her ice cream and they returned to their ramble about time and history and all the people Rose had met. (Aziraphale was not jealous that she’d met Charles Dickens. Only slightly put out. He’d never had the opportunity was all.)

“Oh, I found that book you were looking for last visit!”

“The one about impressionists?”

“Yes! It’s in the office, if you want to go and fetch it. I’ll gather the boys in.”

Even the book wasn’t enough to budge the dark spot in Rose’s aura lingering beneath a layer of faux bright joy- like she was forcing herself to feel happy. It felt wrong, but he couldn’t miracle it away- he had to know what to fix for one, and more importantly Rose would never forgive him. So that left asking the Doctor.

---

“Now wait just a diddly darn minute.” 

The Doctor gulped. He’d learned early on in this odd friendship Rose had struck up with apparent angels and demons, that Aziraphale was actually the frightening one. Oh, Crowley hissed and sputtered and was a nuisance, but it’s hard to be frightened by someone who looks like you wearing bad contacts. 

So when Aziraphale pulled the conversation to a halt, causing Rose to look at the three of them over her shoulder where she was perusing a book about impressionists, the Doctor knew something was wrong.

“You’re telling me you left her? To go to France?”

“Honestly, you’re surprised he has bad taste, angel?” How the demon managed a piercing stare through a pair of sunglasses was a mystery. 

“There’s nothing wrong with France!” The Doctor found himself saying defensively. It wasn’t a surprise that the angel had detected Rose’s discomfort over the issue. He was painfully well aware how much that action had cost. But it wasn’t their business. 

“Oh no. No no no. We’re not doin’ this.” Rose said, breaking through the looks that stretched between the three of them like knives.

“He left you!” The angel was... angry.

“Yeah, so did my dad, my first boyfriend and the cat. S’not new. I’m a big girl. I’m fine. I don’t need protectin’. From anyone.” Rose’s tone was dry, but sad and that was enough to make guilt squirm in his gut. 

“Not even a little bit?” 

“Look, I’d rather have a friend than a guardian angel, if it’s all the same.”

A liquid moment stretched between them all before Aziraphale nodded sharply, eyes wide, his white hair bouncing with the motion. Crowley scrunched his mouth but shrugged, his head tilting to the left in a blasé facsimile of a nod.

Rose’s posture shifted as she smiled, sunshine bright and real, and the Doctor couldn’t help the stab of jealousy that he felt when that smile was directed at other people. He pushed down on the feeling, the unwarranted jealousy. He watched Rose,  and considered how they’d come to be here. Even by his standards, this friendship was strange. But worth it, he thought, seeing Rose’s excited gushing over the book she held in her hands. Definitely worth it. 

(Even if the look he was getting from the demon that wore his face said volumes about what would happen to him if anything else happened to make Rose sad. It was unnecessary - he was through running.)

#tinyconfusion #fic prompt meme fills #Ten x Rose #post-GitF #for anyone who wants to avoid that #This is mostly just... me wanting Aziraphale to meet Rose and be her adoptive dad #Like that's... it really #that's the concept.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: With Brotherly LV (baon)

Summary: Edge's LV is troubling him. Red helps, if you can call anything Red does helping.

Notes:  I do love Edge and Red's relationship, all tension strained over caring. Bad, bad, Fellboys, who honestly love each other. They just have a funny way of showing it.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Angst, Violence, LV Issues, Mentions of an Unknown Monster Dusting, Brotherly Bonding

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

For the first brief moment that marrow hits snow, it steams, body-warm and bright against the whiteness, splattering like a splayed hand. His brother is speaking but he can’t hear the words because someone is screaming and he can’t see why. He can’t see through the crimson filling his sockets, not magic but blinding fluid, he’s bleeding, his brother is bleeding, and someone is screaming.

He's screaming.

Screaming as it settles into his soul, like swallowing a hot coal, burning inside him as the Monster at his feet collapsed into dust—

Edge woke with the phantom taste of dust in his mouth. His soul was throbbing, agitated, the LV within it burning. He rolled to his side on the sweat-dampened sheets, curling up in a vain attempt to tamp it down.

Mostly it didn’t trouble him, not so often as it had in the past. In Underfell, the low throb had never quite stopped, numbness shadowed in aching heat. These days, he didn’t often even think about it.

But tonight, with the memory of dust fresh in his mind, it pulsed sharply. Like clawed fingers digging into his soul, gouging out fiery strips. He tried to breathe through it, focused on control with a slippery grip, refusing to allow it freedom.

It resisted. He couldn’t silence it, like a voice of its own, those oily phantom whispers that spoke of violence, coaxing slyly through the underside of his thoughts.

Behind him, oblivious to his struggle, Stretch slept on, even snoring faintly. Exhausted probably from spending the day walking around at the fair and if he woke now, would he know, would he understand—

(liar, he was a liar, hiding things, wasn’t he, begging for forgiveness instead of honesty, lies, how many lies)

No.

As carefully as he could, Edge slipped out of bed, almost stumbling to the closet. He snatched some clothes without looking at them and went downstairs, carefully skipping the creaky third step. In the darkened living room, he dressed quickly, grabbing his keys and wallet and shoving his feet into a pair of shoes.

Even at this hour the air was humid and clinging, the temperatures only a little lower than it had been during the day. He kept the roof up on his car and turned the air conditioner to full blast.

The radio was off, and Edge kept his focus on the road, counting beneath his breath.

One, two, he was calm, breathing evenly, three, four, he was in control, not his LV, five six, calm. Calm. Calm calm calmcalmcalm—

The night guard at the Embassy entrance looked up at him curiously, but without alarm. Edge gave him a curt nod and swiped his badge. He went to the elevator the same one he went to every day, only now he pressed the button for the basement.

In the cooler lower levels was what were generally considered fitness rooms. Several held treadmills and weightlifting equipment, and a few had signup sheets for yoga classes or pilates. The rooms that interested Edge were at the very end of the hallway. Soundproof walls lined with thick mats, and along the back wall were rows of practice dummies, heavily enchanted to be capable of taking even vicious attacks.

He wasn’t the only Monster living with LV in New New Home, although his was higher than most he’d seen. There were others who had survived the war, not many but enough.

Asgore for one. Most probably assumed his LV was from that. A few knew otherwise.

Outside the door was a narrow set of lockers and Edge chose one, setting his keys and phone inside along with his shoes.

He was summoning his first attack before the door closed behind him.

A wave of jagged bones washed over the dummies, bouncing away and fading. He summoned another, a mesh of crimson and blue to bounce off the padded bodies, their blank faces holding no judgement.

He began to summon another, and the glimpse of a shadow made him pause, extinguishing the half-formed attack in a shower of sparks.

“always did have great control, boss. not doing you much good now though, is it. this shit's not gonna help if you can’t let go a little.”

“Go away,” Edge said curtly. A lazy chuckle answered that, and he turned to see his brother leaning against the closed door, hands tucked into his pockets.

“nah, think i’ll stay and watch. might be a good show.” He sucked loudly on his teeth and the smirk on his face made the burning in Edge’s LV soar. He lashed out, the bones fairly dripping with intent and Red was gone before he’d even completed the motion.

From behind, an attack sent Edge to his knees, knocking several points from his HP. He threw up a hasty defense and kept low, crouching and looking warily around but Red was not in sight.

“you missed, little brother.” That disembodied voice seemed to come from nowhere. Everywhere. “eh, but you were never as quick as me, were ya? s’why you have lv. me, i was always outta there before it could catch up.”

“I have LV because I protected us,” Edge snarled.

“sure you did, never said you didn’t.” His focused narrowed and he turned in time to see Red step sideways out of nowhere. “protectin’, that’s your gig.”

Edge flung out a hand towards him, channeling that rage into a narrow line of bones. Even through his blinding rage he knew the attack would never land, but watching his brother lazily sidestep it only fanned the flames in his soul.

“that what has you up tonight?” Red cocked his head to the side. “throwin' a tantrum because you didn’t get to ‘protect’ your liabilities.”

“You lied to me.” Lies, lies, lies.

“have to do better than that, bro, i always lie to you. which one has your panties in a twist tonight.” His sockets narrowed, his teeth parting in a silent ‘ah’. “we’re talking about the honey bun, aren’t we. confessin' his sins while you were praying to the porcelain god. dunno if you can call that a lie, little brother, we never said a word.”

It was true and it was all the more infuriating for it. “You knew! You knew and you helped him keep it from me!”

Red laughed, laughed, picking at his gold tooth with one needle-sharp fingertip. “helped? fuck, i told him to. didn’t want to listen to you cry and bitch about it so—“

He vanished before the bones could strike him, his voice carrying again from behind. “yeah, you go ahead, little bro.”

Edge spun around and Red’s eye lights were glittering with the sardonic amusement he knew all too well. “be pissed at me, i can take it. you’ve been having a hard time with all your pets lately, haven’t ya.”

“Shut up!”

“nah, don’t think i will. stretch losing hp and you didn’t even notice. andy gettin' himself stabbed and bleeding out on the sidewalk.”

“Stop it!” The bones he hurled jammed into the wall, tearing raggedly through the padding into the plaster beneath it, sending a scattering of drywall to the floor and his soul was throbbing.

“no. cause see, none of that was your fault. the honey bun getting sick, the kid gettin' stabbed. i saw the recordings, you know. kid ran ahead and none of ya had any reason to think those assholes would hurt another human. even if you’d sensed their intent you were too far away to stop it. for the kid, anyway. you weren’t watchin' him so close, but i’d bet my ass by the time stretch got to ‘em, you would have been paying attention.”

“I am going to tear your head off!”

“catch me first. yeah, that’s what has you pent up, ain’t it. thinkin' about the honey bun getting dusted on your watch.”

He swung towards that voice—and directly into a row of bones, knocking him clean off his feet to the floor. He was up in an instant, shaking off the HP drain, only to roll hastily away from another attack. Another, another, coming at him relentlessly from every angle and even his endurance could only carry him for so long.

Eventually, he raised a hand to concede, unable to voice it as he sagged to the padded floor, gasping for breath.

A dirty pair of red sneakers stepped into view. Edge kept his eye light on them, refusing to look up into his brother’s smirking face. A useless defiance, Red only crouched next to him, head cocked as he asked with mocking solicitousness, “feel better?”

“No,” Edge said sullenly. But he was the liar this time. That mean little voice was growing more distant by the second and the exhaustion leftover was satisfying in its own way.

Red only chuckled and sank down to sit cross-legged next to him. He ignored Edge’s scowl and pulled out a cigar, lighting a match with a sharp flick of his thumb.

The end kindled as he touched the flame to it, then shook it out. He took a long puff and that he didn’t blow the smoke directly into Edge’s face was likely Red’s version of kindness. That he nudged a toe rudely into Edge’s ribs simply meant his brother was himself.

“you just had to go get yourself another liability.”

The implication of that was enough for Edge to struggle up on his elbows, glaring at his brother as he sputtered, “It’s not like that!”

Red held up a hand and Edge grudgingly subsided. “nah, it’s not, i know that, not like it is with the honey bun which is good because picturin' your ocd ass trying to fuck a human is enough for me to scrub my skull out with bleach, thanks. think they’re a little too juicy for your tastes, bro.”

“Is there a point to this or are you trying to discover new ways to make me vomit?”

“never google yourself, you’d need a set of buckets.” Red murmured, then louder, “what i mean is, you like the kid. fuck, we all like the kid, you kiddin’. he’s just the type to dig right into our psyche and make hisself at home, ain’t he. the kind of trouble beggin' for someone to take care of him, fuck, you saw how fast blue snapped him up.”

“Blue was being practical,” Edge said, shortly. “Even I agreed he would be the best person to watch over Jeff while he recovers.”

The toes pressing against his ribs shifted, unerringly finding a sore place to push with vicious force until Edge grunted and shifted out of reach. “you’re in a piss-ass mood, bro. someone hurt your people and you can’t do much about it. it’s gonna rile your lv for a while, ain’t no question.”

“It’s wonderful that you feel qualified to lecture me about this with no LV of your own.”

“want me to hand you your ass again, kid?” Razor-edged warning that Red’s amusement was growing thin, and Edge knew from past experience that Red would. He was going to ache for days as it was, the threat of another round was enough for him to subside with a sullen glare.

Red sat as still as a gargoyle, his gaze measuring and finally he nodded slowly. “like i was sayin'. next time you need to blow off steam, gimmie a call. this ‘verse’s undyne can’t handle it and those dummies ain’t gonna be enough and you know it.”

“I can handle it.” I don’t want to hurt you.

“so can i.” you ain’t gonna, brat. won’t let ya.

Grudgingly, Edge nodded.

“great!” Red said cheerily. He slapped one knee and rolled to his feet with a groan, joints popping. “fuck, you gave me a good workout, paps.” He scratched his pelvis absently, then tossed out, “oh, and text the honey bun before he sends out a search party. he’s been blowin' up your phone for half an hour.”

Red was gone again before that registered and the moment it did, Edge cursed and hobbled out to check his phone.

He didn’t bother scrolling through the increasingly frantic texts, bypassing it for his contact list. It barely rang once before it picked up.

“babe?”

The relief in his voice cut and Edge closed his sockets. That coaxing whisper in his soul that tried to whisper grim defiance was easy to force back, muffled beneath the love that welled at the sound of Stretch’s voice.

“I’m sorry,” Edge said, softly. He leaned against the wall, let his skull drop back against it with a thud. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“no, it’s okay. red called me.”

He knew, Edge realized. He knew why Edge left their bed in the middle of the night, knew that he was struggling to control the burn of LV in his soul.

Knew, and the only thing in his voice was gentle warmth, caring. He wasn’t disgusted, wasn’t horrified. Somehow, Stretch with his silver-pure soul believed he wasn’t worthy of Edge and he’d never understood that, never, not when he was the one whose soul was stained dark red with LV.

(liar, he lied)

No, not a liar. He’d kept a secret, yes, but he’d been worried, understandably frightened, and he’d apologized for it.

“I love you,” Edge told him hoarsely.

“i know, but i do like to hear it.” He could hear the creak of the mattress as Stretch moved and in his mind’s eye, weary as it was, he could see his husband curled up temptingly bare in the sheets. “look, you do what you need to and if you want anything from me—“

“I’ll be home soon.” What he wanted was to hold Stretch close and sleep with him in his arms. The only pulse in his soul now was a gentle one, eager to be close to him.

“good,” Stretch hesitated. “edge?” He was quiet for a long moment and then, “i love you.” It seemed like he was about to say something else, but he only added, “come home?”

“I’m on my way,” Edge assured him. He hung up, dropping his phone into his pocket and gathered his keys, stepping into his shoes. A glance around revealed no sign of Red, but Edge still murmured, “Thank you, brother.”

Then he walked back to the elevator. He was ready to go home.

-finis-

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #underfell sans #by any other name

[stcries-a]

CARING SENTENCE STARTERS  //  ACCEPTING !!  @vespyren​ said : ❝  i’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you.  ❞ TO YA FERAL PIG BOY 

★- Head perks up from the ground where he was kneeling ( more so squatting but what can you do with this guy ) Familiar voice catches his attention in a matter of seconds, emerald hues turning back to face her. Did she catch him at a rare moment ?? Well, if he would say that he was nervous about the upcoming mission, then yes.

It was unlike him to actually think about things that could go wrong, better yet the danger of a situation. But here the slayer was, acting like he was scoping the scene but in reality, was delaying the mission as much as he could. But ... for her to say something ( and him knowing the power that she held ) it was enough  to warrant a smile from Inosuke.

“ Tch, you got my back and I got yours !! I’m the best promise keeper, so you bet I’m gonna end up protectin’ you first !! ” Though he didn’t hope it’d come down to that, it was just his competitive nature talking.

#{-One Feral Child | Inosuke-} #{-vespyren-} #{-sOMEONE SAY SHIP-}

[paperback-writers-blog1]

The Secret

By: ModLennon & ModMcCartney

Rating: T

Pairing: John/Paul

Summery: Modern AU! John meets a boy with a secret, but will he ever find out what it is?

Chapter 3/?

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Tags: @the-beatle-queen

When Paul took off John got truly worried. Something was wrong! And Paul was saying he had to protect him? He couldn't let him run off like that, he had to at least try to stop him.

"Hey, woah! Paul come back!"

John took off after him. Paul wasn't really thinking about being careful and as he ran over a worn dip in the pavement he stumbled and fell to his knees. He couldn't find the energy to get up. He just stayed there, sniffling and not caring if he got funny looks. John was able to catch up to him quickly then. He immediately knelt down to check Paul over.

"Are you hurt??" He looked so worried, horrified at the idea of Paul hurting in any way, whether physical or emotional.

Paul just shook his head. He couldn't look at John. John carefully pulled Paul into a little hug.

"Cmon Paul.. what's all this business about protectin me? You dont have ta worry so much.. if ya don't feel the way I do.. I'll recover. I'm okay with bein friends, you know..."

John couldn't help but think it had to do with that. He simply had no idea what Paul was going through.

"N... no I... I'll hurt ya....I... I like ya f...far too m...much but we... we can't.... I can't.... can't..."

Paul would never be able to be just friends with John.

"Paul.." John spoke softly, lifting Paul's chin to look at him properly. "It's gonna be okay. Whatever this is about... it's okay. We don't have ta move fast. We don't have ta set any kind of expectations for the future. Just relax, yeah? I just wanna spend time with you, as much time as I can while I can, okay?"

"But when the time comes-"

"Then we'll deal with whatever this is about."

John had a sinking feeling, but he wasn't lying. If Paul was terminally ill or something similar, which it was starting to seem like what with how secretive he could be and the vague comments he made now, John still wasn't lying. He wanted to spend as much time with Paul as he could.

"For now, won't you let me take you home?"

"There... there can be no ‘we’ in the matter, don't ya get it? All I can do is leave ya behind an...an just...hurt ya."

Paul fell forward so his forehead rested against Johns shoulder. John's assumption was pretty much solidified by that comment. He hugged Paul tighter, feeling the strangest little ripping in his chest at the very thought.

"Then stay with me now, while you can." He spoke in barely more than a whisper.

Paul just nodded. How could he say no to John now? He understood the situation and he was still wanting to try for a little while. He was willing to have his heart broken to spend a little time with Paul. He knew either way John would lose him. If he didn't pick John he'd have to leave eventually. If he did...Paul swallowed and sat up.

"Alright... alright."

John relaxed a bit at that.

"Did ya hurt your knee?" He looked worried. He had seen Paul fall and wanted to make sure he wasn't too banged up from it before they got up to walk.

Paul gave a little nod. While he was sure he could probably walk on it, there was a nice lump forming. Besides he wanted an excuse to keep hold of John.

"Here, get on my back, I'll carry ya back." John insisted.

He knew he could just let Paul lean on him for support, but he wanted Paul closer. He wanted to show Paul he would carry him through whatever.

"Ya... ys sure?"

Paul knew he wasn't exactly fat, but he was pretty much the same size as John.

John nodded, "of course."

He smiled kindly and shifted so that Paul could easily climb on his back. Paul was unsure but still got himself settled on Johns back.

"Dya know where Forthlin Road is?"

"Yeah actually. That's right near me..."

John sounded a bit shocked again. Paul lived that close to him... and he had never seen him before today? It didn't seem possible. When Paul was settled he started walking. Paul relaxed completely. He didn't usually like others carrying him, self-conscious about his weight, but John was so comfortable.

"Now ya know where I live I suppose there's not a whole lot I can do ta stop ya comin round ey?" He sounded quite happy about that, despite everything.

"Not a chance. And I'm not the kinda guy who waits three days or whatever other nonsense people do these days. I'll be pestering you as soon as possible." He sounded very pleased with himself. He wanted to spend every free moment he had learning more about Paul.

"Well... this will be interesting to say the least." Paul commented.

"I can promise you that much."

John spoke with so much fondness in his voice it was almost even alarming to him.

"That and I have never taken a boy home ta meet dad before." Paul chuckled.

"Is he very strict?" John asked, for once actually sounding a little nervous. His own experiences with parental figures in his life had left him wary of parents.

"I wouldn't say strict. Just... protective."

Paul had a feeling it wouldn't exactly surprise Jim, to bring back a boyfriend. But anyone he brought back would be under a lot of scrutiny until Jim was satisfied they wouldn't hurt Paul.

"I can handle protective."

John could understand that, after all. He felt strong urge to protect Paul himself, so he was sure he'd get along with others who shared that feeling.

"And Mikes younger so he don't get a say in who I see." Paul joked.

John laughed at that. When he spoke again it was in a much softer voice.

"Dya think they'll like me?" More than anything, families made him insecure.

Paul had a little think, wanting to answer truthfully.

"Yeah... I think they will."

John seemed to relax a bit, though he'd been unaware of it he had automatically tensed up when Paul's father was brought up. Paul rested his chin on his arm. He could easily fall asleep like this.... he found he had dozed off a bit, only to be brought back to reality by John asking which number.

"Huh...?" He mumbled as his brain caught up. "Oh... 20... we already here?"

"Unfortunately, yeah..."

John really didn't want to leave Paul now, but he couldn't stay by his side forever really.

"Oh... well now I gotta decide if we should say bye at the door or if I should invite ya to my room."

Paul hated the idea of John leaving.

"Hmm.. dya have classes in the morning? I wouldn't wanna keep ya up, but if you're not doin anything else..."

Paul shook his head.

"Then I'll leave it up ta you," John smiled.

"W....well... would ya?" Paul asked almost shyly.

"I would love to." John said sounding so sure.

The more time he could get with Paul, the better.

"Ya just wanna be nosey ey?" Paul giggled.

When they got to the door, he carefully got off John and let them in.

"Oh, of course." John grinned. "I wanna see how ya keep your room. I bet ya keep it nice and tidy. And i bet... hm.. i bet ya alphabetize all your records and books or movies or whatever else ya got in there."

"I do not!" Paul gasped.

Paul shut the door behind them and yelled a hello to anyone around then led John up to his room. It was neat, but not so tidy. Paul hadn't exactly been expecting company so didn't tidy up. He blushed a bit. John looked very amused when he saw it.

"I guess I'm not always right. That's okay though, we'll get along even better than i thought."

He instantly went to look through Paul's record collection. It was obvious Paul took care of his collection. It was the tidiest thing in the room. On the shelf were various record and record player cleaning items. It seemed to be a little music corner, as Pauls guitar was on its stand near the shelves. His desk had a few scattered guitar picks of various thickness and colour. His favourite was stuck in the strings of his guitar. His desk was a whole other story. It was a creative mess. Not one thought was ordered, scraps of paper with drawing practise were laying mixed in with his actual collage work and some lyrics. A few of Pauls favourite lyrics that he wanted to really work on were pinned to a cork board above the desk. There seemed to be some kind of order there, with lyrics on the left side of the board while college notes were on the right. Other than that it was an ordinary room, a shelf of books and dvds, his laptop on his bed. A wardrobe with a few posters on, showing Paul did enjoy modern bands too. He had a muse tour poster, one for the American idiot musical, a small Elvis tribute act with a little signature in the corner and a clearly vintage Elvis poster in a frame on the wall. On top of some draws were various family pictures. It was a small room but had so much of Pauls character packed in. John took his time looking at everything. He didn't speak as he did, just silently walked through observing everything he could. The room told him so much about Paul and he wanted to learn everything he possibly could. Paul took his shoes and jacket off then sat on his bed.

"Well? Now ya here... did ya have any idea what ya would do once ya did?"

"I had a few," John looked over with a wicked grin. "But tonight I wanna keep things simple." He finished flipping through Paul's stack of books and finally went to sit on his bed. "When did you first start collecting records?"

John went right back to asking questions. He couldn't help himself. He just wanted to know everything. Even the things that might seem boring to others.

"Um... when I was about 11/12. Mum showed me a record she had and I liked it so much she said I could keep it. We used ta go record shoppin."

"Which record was it?"

John was very interested in that. His own mother was the one who got him into records as well. Paul stood up and went to the shelf. He flicked through until he found it. He carefully pulled out a best of Buddy Holly and handed it to John.

"She said she remembered Grandma playing it when she was younger. Probably not this exact record but... yknow."

"Ahhh Buddy Holly.." John smiled appreciatively as he looked it over. "So you've always had good taste then."

Paul blushed a bit. "W...well thanks ta her. Left ta dad it'd be jazz an brass bands."

"I'm sure she's quite proud of the collection you've got now."

Paul suddenly went quiet and turned his back to John, finding something to distract himself instead of responding to the comment. John wasn't too sure, but it did seem a bit odd. He moved so he could hug Paul from behind, resting his chin on Paul's shoulder.

"Paul... I want your whole life story. From the very beginning.. from your first memories.. tell me everything that led to you being this person, with those posters and those books... tell me about your favourite films and your favourite place to play as a child. I wanna know everything."

Paul quickly wiped his eyes.

"Well I... I can't remember /everythin/..." he mumbled.

"That's okay. Just tell me everything you do remember."

John wasn't stupid. He could tell something was a bit off after the comment he had made. He could only assume the worst.

"W...well I dunno where ta start... a lot of it is... borin growin up stuff yknow."

"I don't think I'll find any of it boring," John said with a smile.

"I can't think of anythin you'd really wanna know." Paul shrugged. "What I went ta school, rode a bike, hung out with friends?"

"Mmm.. tell me about your friends? Maybe favourite childhood memory?"

As John spoke he laid back on Paul's bed, making himself at home. He wanted to get a feel for Paul's life, see what he saw every night before bed.

"Oh... well I dunno... I mean I never had any like... really close friends. Coz we move around so much yknow? An kids ain't great at keepin in touch..." Paul paused for a moment. "Well... for a few years I did but... moved again so we fell outta touch." Paul found he never had problems making friends. But he did have difficulty keeping them. Mostly because he got secretive, hid away a lot and disappeared for months on end. Most of them just moved on. "Best childhood memory? Well... usually when we managed to go to a beach. Formby was the best but we would sometimes travel to New Brighton or Blackpool."

There it was again, a sudden fondness for water, specifically the sea. Which didn't add up to how he behaved around water.

"Huh, I was kind of under the impression ya didn't like water. Ya seemed so skiddish at the docks..."

John wondered briefly if something had happened during one of those beach days that traumatized Paul. That could explain the love and hate relationship with water he seemed to have.

"O...oh well.... the... the beach has other stuff yknow... playin in the sand an most have...the arcades..." Paul couldn't look at John. Instead he sat at his desk. "Anyway there was a reason you asked to know everythin. You wanna know somethin specific but ya don't wanna ask outright."

Paul raised an eyebrow. He had seen the behaviour before. He knew he could get funny when Mary was mentioned and people were so worried about upsetting him they would ask sort of vague questions in the hope he'd tell them. But Paul was careful with how he answered, only letting them know what he wanted them to. Sure if they asked he'd answer, but how much information he divulged would depend on how much he trusted them

"Actually I do just wanna know everything," John smiled. "But I am curious about somethin, yeah.. your mum.. she isn't around anymore is she?" He asked, his voice a bit softer now, sympathetic.

Really all the signs were there, the way Paul only talked about John meeting his father and brother, how he had said they used to go record shopping as a past tense. They were subtle clues but John was more attentive than most. Paul sighed and just shook his head. At least John made it a bit easier to answer, rather than the usual 'so what happened to your mum?' John didn't know what to say, so he just went to hug Paul again from behind, a bit tighter this time.

"Mine isn't either.." his voice was barely a whisper.

John just wanted Paul to see he understood, that /this/ was something he didn't have to feel alone in. He had lost his mother just a few short years ago, and he knew the pain all too well. Paul looked at John for a moment before turning to face him and just letting himself cry, hugging John just as tightly. He understood. He wouldn't expect Paul to be brave or tell him crying was childish. John held him tight, letting him cry. He had a horrible feeling that Paul had never been able to properly cry or show anyone how he felt about this. After a while, Paul pulled away wiping his face.

"S...sorry..."

"Ya don't have ta be sorry for anything." John said with a sad smile.

Johns own eyes were a bit puffy, as he had cried a bit as well. He was bad about Julia, he had never really processed it properly either. Without thinking, Paul gently wiped Johns eyes. It felt so good just to be able to grieve. He missed Mary so much, much more that the others just couldn't understand. Sure they missed her, but sometimes it physically hurt Paul to think she wasn't there. His future was so uncertain, there would be problems only she could help with. Paul bit his lip, looking at John carefully.

"I...do...are ya gonna...go home soon?"

It hurt less with John around. He felt so safe around him.

"I'll do whatever ya want me to. I'll stay however long you'll have me."

John closed his eyes at the feeling of Paul's hand on his face, leaning into the touch a bit.

"I just..."

Paul looked away. He felt so silly feeling like he did... he just met John a few hours ago.

"What is it?" John asked softly. "You can tell me.."

John couldn't deny their connection was quite odd, and it was all so sudden.. he didn't want to overcrowd Paul. He was worried that he might be, if the intensity was more one sided and Paul was just too kind and soft to push him away. Paul had a light blush across his cheeks.

"Ya just... make me feel... safe." He mumbled.

John's answering smile was so bright and pleased, the insecurity that had been bubbling up completely washed away.

"Good. I wanna make you feel safe."

Paul gave John a sad smile. He knew it couldn't be forever and one day, maybe soon, he'd lose that safety. Either way he couldn't resist cuddling back up, hiding his face in the crook of Johns neck. The only thing that made him pull back was the need to be a good host.

“Are ya hungry at all?" He asked. "Dya need anythin ta drink?"

He had no idea how long John did intend to stay. He wasn't sure if he would find it weird, staying the night, so he wasn't entirely sure how much to offer. Would he want to borrow pyjamas?

"I'm alright for now."

John was perfectly content just cuddling with Paul for the moment. He did hope that Paul might let him stay. He felt like he could stay with Paul forever and never get tired of him.

"W... well...dya wanna get more comfortable?"

Paul seemed a tiny bit bolder in his own room, but was still rather nervous about asking John these things. He didn't want to push it.

"I could go for that."

John was trying to take everything at Paul's pace and not be so bold now that he was in Paul's space. He didn't want to make a nuisance of himself. Paul moved off John then looked a little lost. He wasn't sure what to do now. They were clearly moving forward, getting closer, but Paul had never been in this situation.

"Here, why don't we put on a record?"

John suggested, thinking ahead a bit. There would be less pressure on Paul to say or do anything if he could just relax to music.

"Sure... what dya fancy?" Paul relaxed a little as he went over to the shelf.

"Maybe some Elvis?"

As John spoke he took his shoes and jacket off and settled in on the bed, leaving room for Paul to join him to cuddle. Paul nodded and put on a best of collection. Once playing at a nice low volume, he turned back to John. He carefully climbed onto the bed. Because it was a single he was practically on John, cuddling up. Outside it had gone dark and rain had started to fall. It was so cosy, Paul found himself quickly relaxing into Johns arms. John tried to make sure Paul was as cosy as possible before properly relaxing himself. He ran his hand along Paul's arm and back, stroking gently. The moment felt so perfect and surreal, he never wanted it to end.

"So um... this... this is pretty... not normal... for two guys who just met right? So... so what...uh...what...do we...what did ya... ya want...?"

Paul wasn't sure what John expected. He didn't know what was acceptable and what crossed a line.

"Well, to be honest I've kinda thrown normal out the window for this. I've never had a connection like this with someone before so.. I don't really know what ta do. But... obviously if anything I do makes ya uncomfortable... you can tell me yeah? Or if ya just get tired of me bein in your bed.." John smiled, "otherwise I'd just say do what feels right. I don't have any expectations, Paul. I'm just thrilled to be here with you."

Paul nodded a bit, but he was a little giddy after all this.

"So.... so you... ya my... friend? Nap buddy?.... body pillow?" He joked.

Maybe labels didn't really matter, but they did help set boundaries for Paul who was new to all this. John grinned a bit at that.

"Hmmm.. well I'm not big on labels, really.. but I was hoping for something a bit more than friend.." he mused.

John in as he spoke to gently run his nose along Paul's jawline, leaving a little kiss on his neck. Paul gasped a bit at what John was doing.

"I... I just...I don't know how ta... ta..."

Whenever John got near to his ear, specifically behind it, he would gasp louder and pull away. It almost looked like he was ticklish there. John had to bite his lip to hide the huge grin from that reaction. There were more serious things being discussed right now, though he did file that information away for later use.

"Have ya never dated someone before?" He asked, his tone gentle and understanding.

Paul shook his head.

"Like I was saying earlier... it could never be for long so... so I never bothered."

"Well... Paul... if you'll have me, I'd like to be with you for as long as you want me."

John's heart ached at the knowledge that that might not be long, but it only made him hold Paul a little tighter.

"I just... you'll be hurt. An... an ya ain't gonna understand why... I just... I can't say..."

Paul was so worried about this. He had no doubt Jim would make him leave when he had to, and eventually he would spend less and less time in Liverpool. Jim wouldn't let Paul do what Mary did. And even if he did, John would have to watch him die, like Jim had to watch Mary die. Knowing it was because she chose him, he was the reason, Paul saw it tear his dad up. How could he do that to someone he loved? Paul froze. Loved? He looked up at John and felt the flutter. Oh fuck...

"I know... you don't have ta tell me why, Paul. But like I said, I want this. I can't leave now knowin you exist and live in a world where I can't hold you, at least for now. I'm very...taken with you. And I want you for as long as I can have you... and the rest... I'll deal with it when its time. But that's on me, that's my choice yeah? So let me choose this."

"What if... hypothetically... ya... ya were the..." Paul sighed. He couldn't lay that on John just yet. "Nevermind. Ya right. It is your choice. An I suppose ya not gonna be that easy to deter right?" Paul gave a little smile.

John grinned, "ya got that right. The only thing that you could say ta make me leave ya alone is that you don't want me. So.. if ya ever change your mind.. I won't bother ya forever. But as for right now I happen to think you want me around just as much as I wanna be here. So lets steer into the skid and just live a little."

John had a triumphant smile, like he had won the lottery in getting Paull. Paul knew he should tell John he didn't want him. He should send him away. But he just couldn't he couldn't stand the idea of John going out with someone else. As selfish as it seemed, he didn't want to let anyone even consider having a chance with John. Instead he gave John a sweet kiss on the cheek. John turned his head to catch Paul's lips in a proper kiss, a bit more than the ones at the docks, but he was still very gentle and slow. He didn't want to rush things, but he was just thrilled to be able to kiss Paul. Paul felt a tingling through him as John kissed him. He could do it forever. However eventually he had to pull back to breathe. He looked up at John gasping a bit, lips red and swollen and a blush across his cheeks. John looked at him and felt his heart swell. Fuck! He had /no business/ being that hot! He had to look away or he didn't trust himself to not get carried away, so instead he closed his eyes and covered Paul's face in sweet little kisses. Paul screwed his nose up and giggled as John tickled him a bit. In the end he resorted to hiding his face in the crook of Johns neck again, still laughing. John finally gave up when he hid his face and just laughed with Paul. It felt so right to hold him. John tried to commit this moment to his memory, one thing he would never forget no matter what the future held.

#McLennon #mclennon fic #paul mccartney #John Lennon #modlennon #ModMcCartney #Modern au

[sanasunbringer]

Never Bet the Devil Your Head: twist-of-fate, challenge, morals. Sana & Iri

Drabble Prompts - Edgar Allen Poe Edition

Rustburg was a riot of color, greenery and vibrant blooms nearly spilling onto tidy cobblestone streets, banners fluttering in a warm, ocean scented breeze. As much as the Summer Festival delighted her, Sana had come to visit the village’s park-and a dear friend-instead. “Ah, there y'are, it’s been long enough!” A familiar Ren'dorei, leaning against a tree, grinned impishly at Sana’s approach. “Y'didn’t bring yer wee angels?” The templar gave an affectionate snort and shook her head. “Thank all the gods! I love ‘em, but ye know how ‘ard it is to 'old my tongue around ‘em all the time?” “Hm, I imagine it would be much easier if you held off the drink?” She teased, a broad smile spreading on her face. “Listen 'ere you…” Irielle allowed herself to trail off, if only to take a swig from her flask.

“Speaking of holding your tongue… you’ve kept even more hush hush about this new job than usual.” Her gaze grew uncommonly steady and serious as she spoke. “How risky will it be, Irielle?” The paladin’s brow furrowed in concern, Iri’s brushes with death flashing by-memories of the woman stumbling through her door or crawling in through a window, stained with fresh blood. For a fleeting moment, Irielle’s bright expression dimmed. The Ren'dorei ducked her head, displaying the newest scar on her neck: faint black webbing stretched across pale blue-grey skin, like tarnish creeping over silver.

“Pretty dangerous.” Irielle admitted. “But not bad ‘as some of the ones I’ve taken. Damn lot o’ money in'nit fer me too. Don’t tell me that’s why yer 'ere? I’ve said it already, I feel guilty dragging ye into my messes. 'Sides, I’ve been able to handle everythin’ jus’ fine so far, aye?” The elf’s lips curled into a confident smirk. “Oh, you know better than that, Iri. Come on, at least give me more details?” Sana’s eyes widened slightly, soft and pleading. “Fine, fine. I’ve been 'ired to recover an artifact from a Scarlet enclave…apparently it’s importan’ to tha Light or some rubbish.”

“Or some rubbish?” She exclaimed, playfully holding a hand to her heart. “You heathen.” “An’ proud o’ it! Ye’ll keep yer pretty 'ead out o’ this, won’t ye? It’s jus’ some dusty ol’ relic. Ye ‘ardly need the trouble.” The Ren'dorei purred, her tone almost hopeful. “You’re not wrong, and you have your reasons…But you don’t have to do this alone! I would love to help!” Sana continued, radiating eagerness. “Please?”

Finally, the elf chuckled, “Yer persistent aren’t ye?” “Yep!” “I’ll let ye come along. Can’t say I didn’t warn ye though.” “Great! So what’s our first move?” “No 'ffense, but ye ain’t the stealthiest. Most o’ this will be on me. Although…maybe ye can shmooze somethin’ useful out of one o’ th’ assholes protectin’ this thing…plus, y'know, have my back so I don’t get killed n’ all.” “Sounds like a plan. Hopefully you won’t need me to heal you again…” There was a hum of agreement. “We 'ead out soon as yer ready then.” “Wait, one more question…this isn’t illegal, is it?” But Irielle had already vanished.

DAYS LATER

After a short journey, sprinkled with good natured bickering- “no, we aren’t sleeping in an alley, Iri!” -the pair had found their target and staked it out for hours, until they were all but a yawning heap hidden by shadows. Sana’s eyelids drooped as she watched the same sentry pass by for what felt like the tenth dozen time. The Ren'dorei, on the other hand, was clearly alert despite her fatigue. “I believe we’ve figured out their patrol patterns by now…” “Aye, fer th’most part. Remember wha’ we talked about, eh?” Irielle gently elbowed the drowsy templar. “Mmn? Ah, right. Get information without being suspicious…”

The half elf ran a gauntleted hand through her auburn waves, deep in thought. “…Are you certain? It’s, well, not exactly my strong suite.” “That’s exa'ly why ye should. Yer an honest lass, an’ look it, so he’ll trust ye. Simple. Plus…Voidie 'ere. We both know tha’ would get messy.” “I…I’m not sure if it’s a good idea…” “Well, I could jus’ punch 'im.” “Nevermind!” “Go on, then, no time like th’present.” Sana rose quickly, armor thankfully quiet, a mere rustle of chain mail. Tired, golden orbs shone in the darkness as she cautiously approached the nearby man on watch, careful not to reveal Irielle’s position while she did so.

He barked a wary 'who goes there’, but visibly relaxed at the sight of Sana- small, unimposing, beaming sweetly. Just a harmless fellow paladin passing by, curious about the Crusade and their views instead of being repulsed by them. The act worked like a charm-he even gave her a limited tour.

In no time at all, Irielle held a priceless holy scroll in hand. “Not bad, Sunflower, not bad!” The Ren'dorei winked, throwing an arm around Sana’s shoulders. “Somethin’ I forgot ta mention…by retrieve I meant steal. Couldn’t ye tell?” “What?! Iri, I swear…” She could only stare at the elf’s retreating back-and never saw the tears of laughter running down Irielle’s cheeks.

#one request down three more to go #this was so fun to write #sana and irielle

[thelastspeecher]

Hihi! What about a Stangie DnD verse type AU? Or, if you don't play DND a ton, an AU where the Stans are dragons and the Gucks are human farmers in a medieval style setting. In both of those, first meeting type scenarios.

Day 01   Day 02   Day 03   Day 04   Day 05   Day 06   Day 07   Day 08Day 09   Day 10   Day 11   Day 12   Day 13   Day 14   Day 15   Day 16Day 17   Day 18   Day 19   Day 20   Day 21   Day 22   Day 23   Day 24Day 25   Day 26   Day 27   Day 28   Day 29   Day 30

So, I don’t play D&D a ton, mostly because I’ve been struggling to find a group to play with, as well as the time to do a campaign.  But I have played D&D in the past, and have spent enough time obsessing over the lore and creating character that I feel like I was able to fill this order sufficiently.  So here, have wood elf ranger Angie meeting half-elf rogue Stan.  Enjoy.

Word count: 1457

              Stan crouched down, trying to makeout the magic trace he’d been following. He straightened up with a soft swear.

              Can’t see it anymore.  If I everreally saw it to begin with.  Neverlearned how to track, never learned how to do magic shit.  Stan sighed. Well, I’m boned.  And so is Ford.  Something pricked the back of his neck.  He froze.

              “Turn,” a voice commanded.  Stan turned around slowly, his hands held inthe air, his mind racing as he tried to decide how he’d talk himself out ofthis one.  Those thoughts went away atthe sight of the woman pointing an arrow directly into his face.  He grinned.

              I always forget how damn hot elf ladies are.  No wonder Pops went after Mom.  The elf woman stared him down, her hazel eyesfierce.  A few strands of blonde hairstrayed from her braid, dangling in her face, standing out starkly against hercopper skin.  She was also a full headshorter than him, something that amused him greatly.

              “You’re a bit short for an elf,aren’t you?” he asked, slipping into Elvish. The elf blinked, clearly surprised by the language change.  Then the scowl returned.

              “Yer a bit mouthy fer someonewith an arrow in their face,” she retorted, switching from Common to Elvish.  Stan bit back a laugh.  Most elves spoke with prim, clipped grammarand pronunciation.  But the way shebutchered the Elvish language was more like the way his mom would slur after afew too many glasses of mead.

              “I’ve been told that before,”Stan said with a shrug.  “So, are yougonna shoot me or what?”  The elfhesitated, clearly trying to decide what to do. After a moment, she aimed down at the ground and shot her arrow into thedirt.

              “Who are you?” the elfasked.  “And what are ya doin’ in thesewoods?”

              “The name’s Stan.  Stan Pines. I’ve been tracking my brother, but, ah, I’m sorta shit at it.”  Stan eyed the elf curiously.  “Hang on. You’re a ranger, right?”

              “Yes.”

              “Think you could help me trackhim?  I mean, rangers are supposed to begood at tracking, I think.”

              “I am excellent at tracking,” the elf said.  She shook her head.  “But I can’t help you.  I’ve been trackin’ my own brother.  Can’t help other folks with theirs until mineis home safe.”

              “…Fair enough,” Stan said after amoment.  He shoved his hands in hispockets.  “So, you protect these woods?”

              “With my siblin’s, yes.”  Stan raised an eyebrow in surprise.  “My fam’ly don’t adhere to convention much.”

              “Judging by how you apparentlyhave multiple siblings and speakElvish like a drunk, yeah, I’d say so.”

              “Watch it,” the elf snarled.  “I’m not exactly a fan of humans.  They’ve caused too much trouble here.”

              “I don’t doubt that,” Stansaid.  “But I’m not a human.”  He pulled his long hair back into a ponytail,revealing his pointed ears.  The elf’smouth fell open in a small ‘O’.  “I takeafter my pops more than my mom, but I’m only half-human.”

              “Huh.”  The elf seemed genuinely intrigued.  “Don’t meet many half-breeds ‘round here.”  Stan grimaced.  “Sorry, that term was uncalled for.”

              “Nothin’ I haven’t heard before,”Stan mumbled.  The elf cleared herthroat.

              “So, yer trackin’ yer brother.”

              “Yeah.”

              “Hmm.”  The elf chewed her lip thoughtfully.  “I- I s’ppose it wouldn’t hurt to at least sendya in the right direction.”

              “Really?  You find out I’m half-elf and suddenly you’reup for helping me?”

              “No!” the elf saiddefensively.  She nudged a clump of dirtwith her toe.  “Yer quite thesmooth-talker, that’s all.  I wasconsiderin’ helpin’ ya before ya mentioned you weren’t full human.”

              “Oh.  Yeah, that checks out.”  Stan winked exaggeratedly.  “I do have a way with the ladies.”  The elf blushed fiercely; her cheeks turnedgreen, rather than pink.  She coughed.

              “Don’t press yer luck…Stan, wasit?”  Stan nodded.  “Don’t press yer luck, Stan.”  She looked down at the ground.  “By the way, my name’s Angie.”

              “Angie?  Really?”

              “It’s a nickname.  My full first name is rather unwieldy.”

              “My mom’s is like that.  She started going by Gigi when she opened upher shop, just so that people could pronounce her name.”  The elf began to go through a small bag tiedon a loop to her belt.

              “What kind of shop?” Angie askedpolitely.

              “Uh, fortune-telling.  She’s a diviner.”

              “Huh.  Came across an elf diviner’s trailearlier.  Maybe it was her.”

              “No, she’s in the city.”  Stan stared at Angie.  “But my brother’s a diviner, too.”  Angie froze. Slowly, she looked back at him.

              “Why is yer brother missin’?” sheasked.

              “I’m- I’m not one hundred percentsure.  I think it might have something todo with this person he’s been working with, to expand his field of vision orwhatever.  My brother- he’s never beensatisfied with how much he can see with his magic stuff.  I guess he got a hold of some guy who said hecould boost his abilities, and things went south.”

              “What do you know about theperson that claimed he could help yer brother’s abilities?”

              “Uh, not much.  His name’s Bill.  And I don’t- I kept hearing Ford using some weirdlanguage to talk to him.”  Angie swore loudly.  “What?”

              “Yer brother’s name is Ford?”

              “Yeah.  Why?”

              “My missin’ brother was workin’ witha diviner named Ford.  I don’t knowexactly what was goin’ on.  I stay out ofwizard stuff when I can.  I’ve got plentyto do as it is, protectin’ the woods from fiends.”

              “Fiends.”

              “There’s a lot of ‘em ‘roundhere.  Guess the fabric between planes isthin or somethin’.  I ain’t quite surewhy they keep showin’ up, just that they do.” Angie huffed irritably.  “And theykeep tryin’ to mess with the good folk, lead ‘em astray.  They’re enough of a problem that they’re sortof my specialty.”

              “Makes sense.”

              “But anyways, like I said, mymissin’ brother was workin’ with someone named Ford, who was a diviner.  Shortly ‘fore he went missin’, he got a holdof me.  Asked me some questions aboutfiends, since I’m the expert.  I askedhim why he was curious all of a sudden.  Hegot this real nervous look and said that he wanted some information before hemade a decision about what he would do. And no one’s heard from him since.” Angie eyed Stan carefully.  “This…Bill.  Think he could be a fiend?”

              “I mean, maybe.”

              “If he is, and yer brother’smissin’ ‘cause he got mixed up with Bill, I can track him easy.  Like I said, it’s my specialty.”

              “That would be great.  I’ve been trying to track him myself, but Idon’t know what I’m doing.”

              “Clearly.  The only thing yer doin’ right is bein’quiet.  Everything else yer doin’ wrong.”  Angie grinned.  “I’ve been followin’ ya fer a while.”

              “Well, when you break into housesfor a living, you get pretty good at being quiet,” Stan said offhandedly.  Angie laughed.

              “I s’ppose it would,” she said.  Stan frowned. “Surprised I’m not put off by ya bein’ a criminal?”

              “A bit.”

              “Eh.  I’ve worked for and with shadier people.  Ya meet a lot of iffy folks in the deeperparts of the forest, where the wild magic runs thick.”  Angie got a faraway look in her eyes.  “It’s really somethin’ else.”

              “Uh, okay.  So, about that tracking?”

              “Oh!  Right.” Angie stuck her bow in her quiver. “Where’d ya last find yer brother’s trail?”

              “I lost it around here,” Stansaid, looking at the ground.  Angie strodeto his side and crouched down, inspecting the dirt and leaf litter with acareful eye.  She grimaced.

              “Yep.  I can see yer brother’s trail, all right.”  She stood again.  “I can definitely see somethin’ fishy goin’on with it, too.  Demon might’ve taken him.”  Stan sighed.

              “Somehow, I’m not surprised thatmy brother got mixed up with a demon.”

              “Hopefully we’ll find him andsend that sucker what took him back wherever he came from.”  Angie looked off into the woods.  “And hopefully my brother will be there, too.  I- I’ve been havin’ a rough time findin’ histrail.  It keeps goin’ cold, and I haveto retrace my steps.  But if yer brotherworked with mine, then I think that’s my best bet at findin’ him.”

              “Sounds like a plan to me.”  Stan paused. “Wait, I don’t have to pay you or something, do I?”

              “Nah.  I’m doin’ my job.  Rescuin’ folks from demons.  Not to mention, I’m gettin’ somethin’ out of it,too.”

              “Good.”

              “The trail heads east.”

              “…Which way’s east?”

              “That way,” Angie said, pointing.  Stan took a breath.

              “All right.  Lead the way.”

#this was ridiculously fun to write thank you for the prompt #and I spent the morning making up character sheets for Stan and Angie #and that was great too #love making character sheets #Stangie #Angie McGucket #Stanley Pines #ficlet #my writing #NaNoWriMo 18 #ask #ferociousfangirlofmanyfandoms

[zu-daba]

Love Lost

The inside of the hut was warm, filled with misty incense and heat as the rain battered the walls outside. Out on the Echo Isles, storms were frequent, and this particular one had been raging for hours. Zu’Daba sat in the hut with his mother, who had brought him some cooked fish for the occasion of the visit. Her name was Mau’a, and her jungle-green hair was as bright as the young man’s own.

“..You know, if ya don’ eat et soon, et’s gonna be cold as when ah got et.” Mau’a spoke tersely as her arms crossed and she glared down her crooked nose at her son. Her lips drew into a gentle frown. “She traveled ta Quel’thalas, Zu’Daba.. She probably got caught up on de zeppelins.”

“Shh.. Shuddup. Ah know, ah know.” Zu’Daba waved his hand dismissively at his mother, dredging himself from his haze of dread. He slowly ate the tepid fish that she’d brought him, taking in deep and calming breaths as his mind wandered. Dhea.. Oh, lovely Dhea. So sweet, so kind. Could anyone have hurt a druid who only wanted to mend others? A trolless that was with child? They couldn’t--

“Zu’Daba!” Mau’a exclaimed, “Ya droppin’ et all in ya lap.. Gah, boyo.” She sat up and walked over as Zu’Daba peered down into his lap, seeing all of the fish sort of fallen into pieces from his hands having broken it up too much. Her arms wrapped softly around him as she growled. “Listen ta me.. Listen-- An’ look.” She tried to catch his wavering gaze, which she eventually did.

“..A-ah listenin’..” He replied timidly.

“She comin’ back, okay? Ain’ nobody in dis world cruel enough ta take away children from a mada an’ fada. We always kept you good an’ safe.. An’ ah bet, wherever she is, even among elfies.. Dey protectin’ de ‘ell outta ‘er. Probably not even lettin’ ‘er get her own stools!” She laughed softly as Zu’Daba hazarded a tiny smile at her words. “She be -fine- boyo.. Don’ worry about et so much. Jus’ get some sleep soon, okay? Ah should be headin’ back ta me own hut. Ah love you, Zu-Zu.” She ruffled his hair after a motherly kiss to his cheek and stood up; glancing at the doorway.

They both paused as they heard a rapping upon the doorway. Zu’Daba raced to it first as his mother stepped out of his way with a soft smile. He threw open the hut flaps, expecting to see Dhea standing there.. That beautiful red hair. That gorgeous smile. That perfect face, and a body beautiful despite how it swelled from her pregnancy. He found it more humorous than anything else..

It was not what he found.

A hooded Sin’dorei stood before him - A man named Mardrift, as he recalled, drenched in the rain that nearly wilted his entire outfit. Laying across his arms was that woman he waited for.. Her belly dredged open, carved with some words: ‘Retribution’. For what, he did not know.. But the horror frozen on her face, the pallid skin, the lack of heat - His heart nearly stopped in his chest.

Mardrift spoke, barely above a whisper. It could hardly be heard above the rain as Zu’Daba’s braid drooped from the water..

His mother watched from inside the hut.

“..Zu’Daba.. We were attacked, when she came to visit us. All of the company was. I did my best to save her, I did, but it wasn’t enough - The witch who did this was motivated and hateful. But I’m going to make sure that your family will be okay until the end of my life. I prom--”

Violently, the Sin’dorei found himself shoved back into the mud as Zu’Daba howled in rage; taking Dhea’s body from his grasp and shoving him with his shoulder onto the ground. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head as he stomped in Mardrift’s direction. “YA LET HER DIE?! MAH DHEA?!”

“Zu’Daba, I didn’t--” The Blood Elf started..

“YOU DIDN’T WHUT? TINK TA KEEP HER GUARDED?! TINK TA KEEP HER ALIVE?! YA A FOCCIN’ MERCENARY LORD.. An’ ya don’ even have healahs ta help her..” He weakened.

“They were all dead, Zu’Daba. Please.. Let me--”

“An’ you’re not?!” He snarled back, tears beginning to well at the corners of his eyes. “Go.. Go now, befo’ ah remedy dat. Filth..”

Shoving himself up from the muck with the entirety of his jacket and his pants wet from the rain and dirt, he stood up and sighed. Without another word, the elf shuffled off; disappearing from sight as the sheets of rain fell upon Zu’Daba.

He fell onto his knees, skin scraping upon stones stuck in the sand. Dhea’s body sagged in his arms as he wept above her body; tusks dipping to her chest as he sobbed violently. His body shook as he held her body against his chest, begging for a heartbeat. She couldn’t be gone - He wasn’t there to protect her. He let his mate and his child die..

His face nuzzled against hers, kissing her.. Over and over. “Wake up.. Please, Dhea.. Wake up. Wake.. UP!” He snarled, a mixture of rage and sadness swept him up like a tidal wave. “Please.. Plea-he-hease...” Slowly but surely, she was lowered onto the sand as he sobbed into the crook of her neck. There were no words of comfort, no smiles, no coos of affection.. Just her and the rain. Yet, a hand soon rested upon his shoulder as his mother spoke her own.

“Zu-Zu.. Ah.. Ah sorry. Ah didn’ know.. Please, know dat her spirit sits wit’ Bwonsamdi now. Her an’ ya son.. Dey gonna be celebratin’ dere, waitin’ fah you when ya actual time comes.”

“No.. No.. Ah need ta go ta dem, ah can’t..” He bemoaned.

“Zu’Daba-- No, please.. De loa do not take dem who--”

“Ah need to go ta dem, mada!” He shouted, throwing her hand from his shoulder as his tear-filled gaze fell upon her. His teeth grit, his fists clenched and his entire body quivering from the despair. “Dey were all ah had.”

“All you had..?” His mother pleaded, setting her jaw. “Zu-Zu.. Do you forget your family? Ah still here, don’ leave me. Ya mah only son..” Her eyes tinged with tears. He could tell by her tone, she was begging him. After his father had died, he knew he was truly all that she had left.

Guiltily, the headhunter looked away from her and stood up. “Ma’da.. Will you ‘elp me bury her? An’ give your prayers from Hir’eek?”

Over the next few hours, they toiled through the rain and night until the sun rose again. Zu’Daba’s eyes stung from the tears by the time it was done, though as they put her body into the earth and he collapsed nearby and begged to cry more, he simply could not. The tears had dried out.

Every shovel-full of sand, of dirt, of clay was a hammer upon his heart. A twang of guilt, despair and loneliness. When only he and his mother stood above the palm sapling and the circle of sea-glass, he leaned against her shoulder and closed his tired eyes. She spoke softly to him, humming the old lullaby from his childhood. At its end, she spoke.

“You remembah whut ah said ta you, when ya faddah died?”

“..Ah do, yes..” Zu’Daba murmured. “Dat whenever a great troll dies.. Deir spirit is put inta de sky as a star by de loa fah all to see. Dat dey may shine de light of hope on us.. When we need et most.”

“Tonight, look ta de sky fah her.” She pleaded, “An’ if you see her.. Because ah know you will.. Meet me between oah huts. Ah’ll sit wit’chu, an’ we pray for her. Jus’ please, lil son.. Lil Zu-Zu.” She paused, lip quivering.

“Do not leave me behind. Do not leave yourself behind..”

“Ah won’, ma’da.. Promise.”

That night, Zu’Daba indeed saw that star glimmering in the sky.. But there was only one star. The other had never had a chance to make themselves a legend.

When Mau’a stepped outside that evening, she never saw her son. Just as Zu’Daba would never see his, ever again.