#NOBODY KNOWS WHEN STEADY STATE HAS ARRIVED

[monster-disaster]

[elf] Everen

elf!Everen x human!Reader Good to know: smut

Summary: Your boss demands you to go after him into the woods.

For long seconds, the ringing of your phone seems unreal and far away. It needs time to break through your dreams, and when it does, you can't help but groan into the darkness of your room. You are disoriented and confused. Your phone doesn't stop vibrating on the nightstand next to you. The bluish light of the screen illuminates the ceiling. It blinds you for a second as you turn on your back and grab the small device. You have to force yourself to stay awake even though tears gather and escape from the corner of your eyes because of the sudden light. You can barely see the picture of your boss with his name at the bottom. You groan again.

"Mad?" His voice breaks the silence of your room. You can see him frowning on the screen. His thick, almost white brows cause a deep wrinkle between them. "It's me," you croak out. You don't even have enough energy to react to the stupid nickname he gave you years ago. Reaching out for the small lamp, you turn it on. "Did I wake you?" You glance up at the clock in the corner of your phone. It's almost one o'clock. "What do you think?" "You look like shit." "What do you want, Everen?" You ask him impatiently. Your voice is still hoarse with sleep but more steady and strict. "I need you to come here." Long seconds pass in silence before you snap. "What do you want now?" "I'm going crazy here," he says, looking around wherever he is. The only thing you can see behind him is a window with curtains. "You can't be serious," you breathe out your frustration. "You are barely there for twelve hours." "So?" You groan. "Then come home!" "I can't," he argues. "I need this." "Then why do you want me there?" You snap at him again. "You are my personal assistant, no?" He asks. "You have to do what I say." Your resignation is at the tip of your tongue, but you gulp it down at the last moment. "You are five hours away, Everen. You can't be serious." "Do I look like I'm joking?" He asks back. You don't even have to look at him to know he is not joking. You are not even sure if he can do that. "You can be here by the morning." You have to close your eyes to keep your calm. "I arrive when I arrive!" "Fine," he grunts, and you end the call.

Fucking unbelievable!

You met Everen when you finished college. He needed someone he could order around, and you needed a job to keep a roof over your head. It was a match made in hell.

The elf writes fantasy. And he is good at them. Really good. He is popular, and his books are bestsellers. Everen is lucky his personality doesn't show on the pages. He is headstrong, mean, and spoiled. Most of the time, you feel like a babysitter.

At first, he only used you to get him coffee, do his shopping, and keep in contact with his publisher, so he didn't have to. As the years went by, he asked for, or demanded, help with his stories. Read them and give them your honest opinion. Point out the mistakes and drag down his ego. Well, he didn't ask for the latter, but you like to do it nonetheless. Besides the salary, this is the only perk of your job.

After sleeping for a few hours more, you pack your things and begin your journey to Ironridge.

Everen decided to turn his back on the city when two months passed without him writing anything. The elf is sure he only needs some solitude and nature to clear his head and finish his book in time. There are two problems, though: he hates being alone, and he has no survival skills in nature, even though you know there is a town just a ride away, and he has a perfectly good cabin in the woods.

"What?" You ask him when you get out of the car, and Everen just stares at you without a word. He sits on the porch with a mug in his hands. "You are here," he states, and you freeze. "You asked me to come, remember?" Gods, if he says he wasn't serious you will kill him. Nobody knows you are here, and the forest is big enough to hide his body. Everen scoffs. "Of course, I remember!" "Good," you nod, grabbing your things to take them into the house. As you stop next to him in front of the entrance of the cabin, you notice what he wears. His boots are too new and useless for the woods, and his jeans are too tight to be comfortable. The red flannel shirt is something you never thought you would see on him. "You look ridiculous," you tell him before disappearing into the house.

The place is small. There is barely enough space for a kitchen and a living room with a couch and fireplace. The bathroom and the bedroom are next to each other at the back.

Oh, right, where are you going to sleep?

"The couch is comfortable," Everen says from behind you.

Right. Of course.

"Always a gentleman."

After putting down your things and grabbing a mug to pour yourself some coffee, you turn your attention back to the elf. "So, what did you do yesterday?" You ask him. "Did you write something or go for a walk?" He looks at you like you are crazy. "For a walk? Outside?" "Yes," you nod, and when the expression on his chiseled face doesn't change, you groan. "Why are we even here if you don't go out?" "To be close to nature." You will kill him. Nobody will know. "Next time just by a fucking plant!" "You are not really nice," he states. "Did you sleep enough?" For seconds, you just stare at him without blinking. "I wrote a few pages yesterday," he adds when he decides to change the topic for safety reasons. "Do you want to read it?" "Do you want to show them to me?" There are times when Everet is really cautious with his work, and despite your odd relationship with him, you don't want to make him do things he doesn't want to. His books and his career are really important to him, and you respect them.

Without saying anything, the elf nods at the laptop on the couch, and you sit down to read it. Long minutes pass by while you focus on the screen, and Everen walks back and forth behind you. His platinum-blonde hair is tied back with a leather stripe. The long, straight locks almost reach his slim waist.

"Holyshit," you break the silence. The elf stops and leans over the back of the couch to see the screen in your lap. The pillow behind your back sinks under his weight. "So?" He asks urgently. "What do you think?" "Since when do you write erotica?" "The publisher told me to spice things up," he explains. "He says it's popular." You frown. "Your books are popular." Everen shrugs. "Is it really that bad?" "It's so dry," you tell him. You can see he doesn't like the publisher's instructions, either, so you try to be nicer than usual. Now you understand why he got stuck with his book. "And you used "member" at least twenty times. It's not a rock band, Everen, it's a dick." You don't even have to look back at him to know he is offended. You just notice it from the way his breathing changes. "Can you do better?" "I mean…" you shrug. "I could give it a try." You are not a writer and don't want to be one, but you can clearly see what's wrong with his work. "Then be my guest," he says. "Do your best."

You spend the next few hours on the couch, adjusting and changing things you don't like in the scene. The only noise in the small cabin is the keyboard's clattering as you write. Sometimes you hear Everen do something in the house, mostly making coffee after coffee. He is lucky elves don't tend to get heart attacks.

"Are you writing a whole book?" He asks impatiently. "I didn't ask you to change the whole book." Rolling your eyes, you push the laptop onto the couch from your lap to stand up. "I'm done," you tell him. "Read it if you want."

While your boss busies himself with the book, you go out with another drink to enjoy some peace and fresh air. You feel even more tired than you arrived. You settle into the rocking chair Everen used when you arrived. The wooden floorboards feel solid beneath your feet as you rock back and forth ever so slowly. As you sip your coffee, your gaze wanders into the woods. Towering trees sway gently in the gentle summer breeze. The sunlight filters through the canopy above, casting a dappled pattern of light and shadow on the lush greenery. The air smells like pine, damp earth, and wildflowers, mixing with the coffee in your hands. Birdsong fills the quietness, a symphony of chirps and trills.

Usually, you prefer the loud business of the city, but if you have to be honest, this is good too. Your only problem is…

Everen almost bursts out of the house. His handsome face is cold and strict. Something burns in his eyes, but you don't recognize what.

"How did you do this?" He demands for an answer. You shrug, sipping from your coffee. "I have a soul." Everen's frown deepens. "I have that too!" "I don't know what to say," you reply. "Did you do that before?" "You mean writing a sex scene?" You ask. "No." "No," he shakes his head. "The scene itself." You almost laugh. "Of course I did." A light blush spreads across his cheeks, and a nagging feeling starts to eat the back of your mind. "You didn't?" His blush deepens. "Does it matter?" "I mean, no," you reply. "But it's really… vanilla." "For who?" "For me? And for a bunch of other people?" "Well," he grunts. "I want it too." You freeze. The swaying of the chair under you stops. "I'm not sure what you want me to do," you break the momentary silence after a while. The words leave your lips slowly and carefully. "I want you to sit on my face," he says. "How hard can it be?" At the word hard, your gaze falls down on the obvious bulge between his thighs. Seeing his erection trapped in his jeans, the new shine in his dark eyes suddenly makes sense. "You got horny because of…-" you point back at the cabin. Surprise shows on your face as your brows draw up in shock. "So what?" He acts like an upset kid. "I'm just surprised you feel anything besides anger," you tell him. Everen just grimaces. "You are funny." His snarky comment makes you think of his request again. Or demand. "So?" He asks impatiently. "Are you coming?" "You mean, right now?" "What do you want me to do? Take you out to pick berries?" He waves at the forest surrounding you. How many times did you imagine shutting him up since your work for him? You can't even count it. "Fine," you grunt, standing up from your seat. The chair creaks at your sudden movement.

Anything to shut him up finally.

"So, what do you want me to do?" He asks when you lead him to the bedroom. It's a mess. His clothes are all over the place, poured out of his bags, and the blanket is halfway down on the ground. "Well," you grunt, looking around. "You could clean up." He stares at you. "You are really wild in bed." "Just shut up!" "Make me!"

Fine!

"Then take off your clothes," you tell him. "Will you do it too?" He asks, staring to unbutton his shirt. You feel glad when the flannel falls off his shoulders. It really did look horrible on him. "Do you want me?" You ask him. "Naked, I mean." "How will I eat your pussy otherwise?"

Maybe this is a good step. Both of you get over the awkwardness first, so you can move on and enjoy whatever happens next. And still. You feel nothing but impatience and excitement. Your gaze rakes over Everen's naked body. Over the line of his shoulders, the light muscles on his chest and abdomen, and the V line that leads you to his cock between his thighs. He is tall and lean. His posture is confident as he stands beside the bed, watching you. His eyes burn your skin as he looks over you. Your nipples harden into small peaks under his heavy stare. "Are you still angry because you had to come here?" He breaks the silence. The elf doesn't even try to hide the fact that he can't tear his eyes away from your breasts. "Just lay down."

When he does as you say, for once, you are ready to climb up on him when a question stops you. "How do you want me?" You eye his erection. "Do you want me to suck you?" A pained grunt escapes the back of his throat. His cock jerks under your gaze. "I take it as a yes," you grin, getting into position with his hands on your thighs. Everen's long fingers squeeze your flesh, urging you to hurry up. You hover just beyond his reach. His warm breath fans over your wet center. "What did you not understand?" He asks after a few seconds. "I said, sit!" And with that, he pushes you down on his face. You don't even have a chance to keep your balance under his tight hold.

Your moans mix in the quiet room as his tongue licks over your pussy. Everen nibs and sucks on you, exploring your aching wetness. His fingers dig into your thighs, pushing you down even more. "Everen!" You cry out his name in shock. His tongue slides through your pussy, lapping at your juices. His face is already soaked. His senses are filled with your taste and scent. He breathes you in, driving himself to delirium. Your thighs shake at the sides of his head. You try to keep your balance, rocking into him and grinding your pussy against his face. You aren't even sure if the elf under you can breathe, but at this point, you don't even care. Your chase your own pleasure, and the only thing that can keep you afloat is his cock not far from you. It twitches every now and again, and pre-cum runs down on his shaft and a bluish vein under the soft, pale skin. Licking your lips, you lean over his chest. Your nipples graze his upper body.

A dissatisfied grunt vibrates over your pussy, sending shivers up your spine when you lift yourself up from his face. "I didn't tell you to move," he grunts. A breathless grin spreads across your face. "Are you sure?" Your fingers curl around his cock, smoothing up and down on his length. "Fuck!" Everen growls, pulling your back onto his lips. His hips thrust up to fuck your fist. "If I had known I could shut you up like this, I would have done it sooner," you tell him, still grinning. Your words are airy, but the snarkiness still rings clearly. Everen says something you don't understand, and the next moment, a startled cry escapes your lips as your world spins with you in the middle. He finds your entrance. He laps at the juices flowing from your pussy before his tongue plunges into your hole. Your legs quiver at the new feeling. Your muscles twitch and flex as your boss pushes you higher and higher. Your hand around his cock is sloppy. You can barely focus on anything besides his tongue in you. Your walls flutter and pulse around him as he fucks you. Both of you are soaked with your wetness and his saliva. "I'm going to cum," you cry out when you feel the first spasms in your lower abdomen. It strikes through your body, sending stars behind your eyelids as you press yourself even more firmly against his face.

You cum, and he licks up everything you have to offer. And he doesn't stop even when you try to get up. "Oh, no," he growls with a deep laugh. The rumbles shake through your sensitive, throbbing cunt. "I'm not done with this pussy yet." He doesn't let you move. He doesn't let you escape. "Oh, fuck! Everen!" You are so busy with your own body you don't even notice your grip on his cock tightening until you feel him jerk and cum in your hand. His hips push up even more, and his moans and groans shake your body. His tongue strokes into you, licking deep. He devours you with a newfound elan, and you can do nothing but grind against him until you feel your orgasm approaching again. Your breathing gets ragged, mixing with cries and screams. Your over-sensitive pussy sends you over the edge within a few minutes.

When your mind clears a bit, you are already on the bed next to Everen. His hand shamelessly gropes your tits, and his hard cock nudges your thigh. His breath is warm on the curve of your neck. "Have any other ideas for the book?"

- Masterlist Ironridge Masterlist Patreon

#monster x reader #monster x human #monster x you #monster boyfriend #monster romance #monster smut #ironridge #elf x reader #elf x human

[imhenritz]

Giving him the love he deserves (Sanji x Reader) Part 3

Note: Reader is still Mc (Main Character), but I made it sound like it's a name! I'm still too lazy to think of a real name. Forgive me!

The prompt for the story is: "The reader gets sucked into One Piece after wishing that someone would love Sanji like he is supposed to be loved, as nobody has given him a chance. She would love to give him that chance if only she could. One time, she was in her room, falling asleep while recording her voice for a cover request sent to her. When she woke up, she found herself in a boat floating, wearing pieces of jewelry fit for nobility. Her neck, ears, and bracelets were all glittering in the darkness." P.S. I know this is Sanji fic but I'll use any excuse to use the GIF to say it's his scene! Part 3 under the cut. Part 1, Part 2 here

In the midst of the chaos, "Zoro," Nami's voice, usually sharp and commanding, was laced with genuine concern as she watched her comrade face the looming threat. "Zoro, don't do anything reckless!" Usopp added, his wide eyes reflecting the worry shared by the entire crew.

Luffy, their fearless captain, clenched his fists, his determination evident in the hard set of his jaw. "Zoro's got this, guys. He's strong!"

Amidst the tension, Mc, their calm and composed beacon, swiftly organized supplies with a precision that belied the chaos around them. Her hands moved swiftly, efficiently gathering bandages, antiseptics, and herbs, her eyes focused and determined. Zeff, their stern mentor, grappled with the puzzle. “Lass, you know this was about to happen,” he stated, not a question but a fact.

Tearfully, she explained, “He won’t listen even if I tell him. Right now, I am no one in the crew. Why would he listen to me if he won’t even listen to them?”

Zeff, begrudgingly accepting her words, said, “Sanji, give me a tequila and a yellowfin.”

“I understand the tequila, but Yellowfin?” an unusual request that left him questioning the old man's sanity. A yellowfin for someone so gravely wounded seemed absurd.

Mc managed to smile weakly at Sanji, her touch gentle on his cheek, her eyes reflecting the depth of their bond. She whispered, “Obey your dad for once,” bridging the gap between them and transforming their rough love into a father-son dynamic that Sanji had never imagined possible.

In the midst of the tension, Sanji nodded, his usual confidence wavering for a moment before he steeled himself. “He could have explained,” he mumbled but followed, determination burning in his eyes as he rushed towards the kitchen. —

When they arrived, Zoro was sprawled out on the table, blood staining his clothes and the floor beneath him. Zeff, with the precision that came from years of experience, meticulously prepared the yellowfin fish. With delicate hands, he skinned the fish and placed it against the newly stitched wound on Zoro's chest, explaining it was a sailorman’s trick, an old remedy passed down through generations.

“Old man,” Sanji marveled, his admiration for the old chef's wisdom evident in his eyes.

"It's an old trick I learned. Sometimes, the simplest remedies work wonders," Zeff replied, his hands steady despite the urgency of the situation.

After they moved Zoro to Nami's room, Nami began reading to Zoro's unconscious form, her voice a soothing melody. Her presence brought a sense of calm to the room, a brief respite from the storm of emotions that raged outside.

Outside the room, Luffy, diligently cleaned Zoro’s sword, his face set in determination. He was focused, his every movement purposeful, as if he could will his friend back to health through sheer determination alone. Mc and Sanji tried giving Luffy food, but just this once, Luffy declined. That boy never said no to food. Luffy still had that smile on his face.

Mc, Usopp, and Sanji gathered around the kitchen island, Sanji’s hands working swiftly and efficiently to prepare the yellowfin that had been skinned earlier. Mc roped Usopp in to mold some rice balls, her childlike enthusiasm managing to distract the sniper. The room was filled with the aroma of fresh ingredients, a stark contrast to the tension that hung in the air.

Inside the room, tension thickened when Nami walked out, unshed tears in her eyes. The air was heavy with their collective worry and fear. Nami, her eyes filled with frustration and despair, cast blame upon Luffy for not preventing Zoro's challenge to Mihawk. Luffy's unwavering commitment to not shattering anyone’s dreams fueled the fire in Nami’s eyes. She gritted her teeth, expressing her belief that life was worth more than risking it all for a dream, her frustration evident in every word she uttered. In a huff, she stormed out of the room, leaving an atmosphere charged with emotions behind her.

Feeling Mc stiffen beside him, Sanji was aware of the burden she carried. He pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her protectively. He felt her tense muscles relax against him, her head finding solace against his chest. In that moment, he understood the weight of her knowledge from the future and the pain it brought her. The crew they had just joined was falling apart, and he couldn't bear to see Mc suffer because she couldn’t do anything about it. His grip tightened around her, silently promising to be her anchor amidst the storm, to share her burden, and face the challenges ahead together.

"No matter what happens, I'll stand by your side; I would never desert you,” he whispered, his voice a soft reassurance in the midst of uncertainty. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with gratitude and love, and for a moment, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of them. —

Then a shocking revelation struck – Nami had been colluding with Arlong all along, betraying the crew's trust by handing over the map of the Grand Line.

Burdened by her knowledge of the future, Mc wrestled with the decision to withhold this information. Sensing her inner conflict, Sanji gently pulled her aside, his eyes searching hers for answers.

"Did Nami betray us?" His voice was low, filled with concern.

Mc looked into Sanji’s eyes, her gaze reflecting the pain she felt.

“Of course, she wouldn’t,” Luffy said, his voice surprisingly calm after overhearing their conversation "You-", Sanji's eyes widened in shock. "The future huh?"Luffy smiled at Mc, now comprehending the weight of Mc's burden, her knowledge from her world guiding their path, he stood rooted to the spot. His usually carefree demeanor turned serious as he realized the gravity of the situation. His voice cut through the tension of the room. "We need to save her," he declared, his tone unwavering, filled with determination and hope. "We will?" Usopp is half hesitant remembering the fishmen. Luffy clenched his fists, his resolve firm. “Of course! We're a crew. We never leave anyone behind! Let's go kick Arlong's butt and bring Nami back!"

Zoro, the swordsman with a stern expression, nodded in agreement, "Arlong won't know what hit him when we're done."

Eyes immediately went to Zoro, who was standing like nothing had happened.

"Nami would jump out of joy if she sees you awake!" Usopp said, his eyes bright with admiration for Zoro's strength.

“That’ll be a sight to see,” Zoro snorted knowing Nami.

Mc, her eyes filled with gratitude and determination, stepped forward. "You let us take care of this. Fight, but make sure you don't make those stitches worse. Unless you want to die on us.”

“Like something like that will kill me,” Zoro snorted but looked at their new crew member fondly. She, after all, supplied his alcohol during their stay. “You can fight too, eh?” Zoro smirked at Mc. She always had been away from the fights they encountered.

Usopp, his eyes gleaming with a mix of fear and excitement, chimed in, "We'll show Arlong that the Straw Hat crew doesn't back down from a fight! Prepare yourselves, because we're coming for you, Arlong!"

Clearly hearing Usopp's hesitance earlier, “You’ll scare them away, huh, great captain Usopp?” Zoro grinned.

Sanji tightened his grip on Mc's hand, his usual suave demeanor replaced by fierce determination.

══════════════════ Thanks for stopping by! The last part of the series is on its way, followed by lots of fun/fluffy headcanons. I can't help but giggle—I have tons of them! I'm a big fan of the established relationship trope and the crew's interactions.

Series here: Part 1, Part 2 here, Part 4-Ending Masterlist here!

Get ready for more Future Fluffs aboard the Thousand Sunny, featuring Mc and Sanji being their adorable married selves, along with the Straw Hats getting in on the fun!

Breakfast in Sunny

Caught in Again Part 1,  Part 2(coming up)

#opla sanji #sanji x reader #sanji x reader fluff #one piece sanji #sanji #sanji fluff #sanji x you #black leg sanji #luffy #red leg zeff #zeff #drabble #one piece live action #one pice #one piece fanfiction #one piece fluff #one piece netflix #op live action #straw hat pirates #baratie #amanita-the-fairy #marsilis

[cozage]

The Daughter's Return Part 3

Chapter 16: Let's Talk Strategy

Start From Beginning | Next Chapter | Table of Contents | Read on AO3

Characters: female reader x Portgas D. Ace Word Count: 1.6k

“Do I have to keep these on?” You shook your shackles in front of Marco’s face as you laid on the examination table. 

“Considering you knocked out the last person in charge of you with nothing but your fist and your sea prism bracelet? Yes. You do.”

You groaned in despair, dramatically flopping your arms back down onto the table. “What if my lack of energy harms the baby?”

“That’s why you have checkups every day,” Marco said. “Now lay still.”

You groaned again, but did as you were told. Perhaps if you did everything without complaining too much, they might take your shackles off before you got to Marineford. And then they wouldn’t be able to stop your decisions. 

Marco placed his stethoscope on your stomach, and you sucked in a deep breath at the contact of the cold metal against you. Being affected by temperature was something you weren’t sure you’d ever get used to. But you didn’t complain. 

A smile widened across his lips after a moment, and he looked at you with excitement. “Do you want to hear it?”

You frowned, unsure of what he meant. “Hear what?”

“The heartbeat.”

“Oh.” You weren’t sure how to answer that. In your mind, this baby only existed when you and Ace were together. He wasn’t here to witness it, and it felt cruel doing this without him. 

“Listen,” Marco advised, holding the stethoscope up to you.

You took it from him hesitantly, but you listened. A soft whooshing filled your ears, strong and steady. 

“It’s fast,” you whispered. “Is it okay? Did I do-“

“It’s normal,” Marco reassured you. “Their heartbeats are faster while they’re developing. But everything looks and sounds completely normal.”

“A healthy baby,” you said, placing your hand protectively over your stomach. 

“A healthy baby,” Marco confirmed, a smile on his face. 

The two of you walked to the commanders and strategists meeting. You sat alone at the division two seats, trying not to think about how there were two empty commander seats now. 

Everyone eyed your sea prism shackles, but nobody said anything about them. You were thankful for that, even if it did leave an awkwardness hanging in the air. 

“Has every subordinate captain been notified?” Your father asked, looking around the table. 

“We all told everyone the same thing. Meet outside of Marineford and we’ll storm in together.”

“Good,” your father said. “Then we can all ride in together.”

“That won’t work,” you said. “They’ll see us coming a mile away.”

“There’s nothing else we can do,” Elmy said. “We just have to hope the wind is in our favor.”

“No,” you said, your mind racing to think of another solution. “Aokiji will freeze the sea before we even make it there. And Akainu will burn down our flags. Instead of saving him, we’ll have a front row seat to his execution. We can’t-“

You couldn’t keep talking in fear of your voice giving your emotion away. 

“We can do the bubble trick,” you said, changing the subject. “How we get down to Fishman Island, but head for Marineford instead.”

“That won’t work,” Elmy shot back. “We don’t know anyone skilled enough to do all of our boats in a week's time.”

Your eyes shot to your father. “I know someone,” you said. “He can do it. Please. Let me ask him.”

His eyes flashed pure anger. “I thought I told you-“

“I’ll take Marco!” You cried. “Please. We’re close to Sabaody. Me and Ace talked to him the last time we went through. He’s a genius. Please, dad-“

“No,” he hissed, glaring at you. If you hadn’t been in your current state, you probably would’ve gotten another dose of his haki treatment. 

You stayed quiet for the rest of the meeting. There was no point in strategizing what would happen after you arrived in Marineford.  If you rode into battle in the way they were proposing, everyone would die before their feet touched land. 

There had to be another way. A way to convince your father to let you go. But you would worry about that later. 

You swore you could still hear the soft, fast heartbeat of your child, fighting and growing with every passing hour. The baby was so tiny, and yet you were halfway through your pregnancy. How on earth could something that small grow to be the size of a baby in four and a half months? It simply didn’t seem possible. 

And yet, it was happening. A new person was growing inside of you. You had to believe it contained only the best parts of you and Ace. Hopefully more of Ace’s traits than yours. His kindness, his love, his willingness to sacrifice…

“Y/N,” Marco prompted, tapping your shoulder lightly. “Let’s go get dinner. You need to eat.”

You were so lost in thought, you hadn’t noticed that the meeting had ended.

You were about to argue and say that you weren’t hungry, but you decided not to. You rose without a word and followed him to the mess hall, painfully aware of your father’s eyes on your back. 

“Did that baby take all the spunk out of you?” Marco mumbled the question in your ear so nobody else could hear as you walked into the mess hall. 

“I’m thinking.” You waved him away from your ear and picked up a tray. 

“You should probably double up on fruits and vegetables,” Marco said. “And cut out the fish.”

You did as you were told. Your father had told you not to argue, so you wouldn’t argue. Maybe if you listened, then so would he.

You sat down across from Marco at an empty table, your mind still running through possibilities. 

“Hello?? Earth to Y/N?” Marco was waving his hand in front of your face, snapping you back to the present. 

“Oh.” You blinked a few times and realized your tray was still full. He must’ve thought you were trying to get out of eating. “Sorry.”

You shoveled some food into your mouth to appease Marco. You knew it was the same ingredients and recipes as always, but it tasted off. Thatch hadn’t had part in the process, and you could taste that, somehow. 

“You need to snap out of it,” Marco scolded. “We’re only going to be able to do this if you are at your very best. We can’t lose our best strategist now, okay?”

“There’s no strategy that can get us past the Vice Admirals,” you said, eating another bite of tasteless food. “Not if we’re sailing in that obvious.”

“How well do you know this coating mechanic?” Marco asked, biting his lip. 

You shrugged, trying to think of a cross between truth and lie. “I know his name and I know his work ability.”

“You’re sure he can do it?” Marco asked.

You nodded. “If I ask nicely enough.”

Marco sighed, shaking his head. “Let me see what I can do. Go get ready for bed. Any funny business and-”

“I know,” you said, finishing up your plate and standing to take your leave. You could feel your voice trembling as you spoke. “Trust me Marco, I know.”

You walked to your room and stood in front of the door, too afraid to go in. You didn’t want to know what it was like in that room without Ace. 

“Is it locked?” Izou’s voice startled you, and you wiped your eyes before you turned to face him.

“No,” you whispered, and then cleared your voice before speaking again. “No, it’s not.”

“Ah,” Izou said, his eyes darting back to the door. “Is there something you would like me to grab?”

“What happened to Jinx?” you asked, ignoring his question. 

“The cat?” Izou raised an eyebrow and then chuckled. “A day after you and Ace left, Marco heard some ungodly cries coming from the room, and we all kind of collectively remembered that you all had a cat. Marco’s been watching her since you guys left. They get along quite well.”

Tears poured out of your eyes. You shouldn’t have been so relieved over a stupid cat, but at least Jinx was still okay. At least there was still something left of Ace here. 

“Do you need me to get anything for you?” Izou asked again, looking at you.

You shook your head. You couldn’t open that door. Not yet. Instead, you took off towards Marco’s room. He would have everything you needed to get by for now. 

When you opened the door, you saw a black mound on the bed, eyes staring at you threateningly.

“Hi Jinx,” you sobbed, kneeling down next to the bed. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you cried. You felt so guilty for returning alone. 

Jinx rose from her place on the bed and approached you, and she rubbed her face against yours. It was so surprising that for a moment, you stopped crying out of shock. Jinx purred softly against you, and you couldn’t help but feel like maybe-maybe-everything would be okay. 

“Alright,” Marco said, entering the room. “We have a private meeting with Pops tomorrow morning. I think-hey,” Marco realized you were on the ground, and he bent down next to you. “Are you okay?”

You started crying again at his question. There was no way to answer it. 

“I’m so scared,” you sobbed softly, trying not to scare Jinx away.

“Me too, kid,” he whispered. He wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly, and you could tell he was telling the truth. You could feel Marco’s fear in his grip around you. You weren’t sure if that was relieving or terrifying. 

The three of you fell asleep in a strange pile, entangled together with hope and despair.

--

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#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #one piece x you #portgas ace x you #portgas ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #ace x y/n #ace x reader #portgas d ace #portgas d. ace #cozage #✧˚ace✧˚

[juvenillia]

~ Death of Peace of Mind ~ 12: wait

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!reader

photo credits go to very talented @ave661

a/n: I am German so putting something of my native language in here feels so cool, really need to write more for König (when this series is over)

also I think it's quite funny how I believed that I'd never be able to write a full on fic and now we're here - thank you for sticking with me and story

CW/TW: mentions of loss, death, injuries, petnames, jealousy, guilt, angst, hurt/comfort, violence

wordcount: 2.9k

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The last days felt unbearable for everyone. Shortly after they arrived at the improvised base full of tents, the medics did everything to stabilize your state of condition. Ghost did literally bark at anyone who came too close to you, who didn't look like a specialist in medic care. As soon as your condition got a bit better, they flew you over the hq to initiate the needed surgery. Ghost leashed out as he got told that he wasn't allowed on the transport next to you. He had promised you and himself to not leave your side. But they had to wait to be brought to the base while you were long gone and on your way to the OR. Kyle and Johnny had to do their best to calm him. It was a hard mission, especially when they were on the edge as well.

Simon paced around the room the three men were meant to stay in. He couldn't stand still until he was able to see you again. Some nurse explained him, in a serious and nearly threatening tone, that he wasn't allowed around the infirmary before he didn't get his emotions under control. This was new for him, emotions were never something hard to handle, but you changed that. The guilt, fear, longing, desire, regret, anger, sadness. The list was long, but his nerves couldn't carry them. You made the border between Ghost and Simon melt. It made his hands tremble and his heart ache.

Nobody in this room dared to speak while waiting for news, not even Johnny tried to ease the mood. To occupied with what ifs. You only were part of this team for a short period of time, but it felt different. It felt like you were always a part of them.

Hours passed by without knowing anything. It ate them up. Johnny sat on a chair, watching Simon pace around the room. Not daring to approach him even the furthest. The only thing that was a distraction for a short time was a call with Price. Explaining the situation, they found themselves in. Kyle did the talking, while Johnny and Simon weren't able to. "Yes, sir. You're on speaker now.", he placed the phone on the table. Simon got closer, his feet tapping the ground nonstop, fidgeting with your blue box in his pocket. He didn't dare to let go. Johnny still seated at the table as well as Kyle, letting his leg bounce up and down. Desperately pushing his sweaty palms on his thighs, trying to steady them down. "Boys, listen. Skadi has been through worse. Way worse. She's gonna make it. I know what you're feeling, what you're thinking, but don't. It is no one's fault. You did what had to be done, and she'll be okay. Trust her and the medics.", Price voice was as calm and soft as ever. Johnny's leg stopped bouncing and even Simon lost a bit tension between his shoulder blades. They trusted you, still they were scared.

It took another hour before a young-looking soldier came to knock at their door. Ghost was opening it within seconds, staring at the small Private in front of him. Waiting wasn't something he was good at, not when it came to you. "Speak!", he ordered harshly, no need to mention that the poor guy was scared to bits. Kyle shoved Simon gently to the side, what earned him a deep growl. "Ignore the scary dog.", he exhaled nervous and looked as soft as possible to the young boy, who nodded hesitant. "Here to inform you, that Sergeant Quinn has made it through the surgery without any complications. She's been brought to room 317 for further medical treatment. She’s still unconscious, but visitors are allowed." Johnny nodded. "Thanks, dismissed."

Before Kyle and Johnny could even say something, Ghost started running through the hallways up to the infirmary. Ignoring any glances and shouting around him. His steps were fast and determined. His grip still tight around the blue box. "Lt!" Johnny had problems to keep up with him while Kyle didn't even try. He knew it was pointless. Simon only had one thing on his mind, seeing you. Making sure that he didn't lose you. Just when he stood in front of the door separating him from his desire, he stopped. Fear raising in his stomach, fear of the sight that would expect him inside. Johnny was the one placing a gentle hand on his arm. "C'mon, Lt.", he gently pushed the door open, and the three men entered. It was a casual hospital room. Bright whites around you, a common sickbed every one of them had seen plenty of times. What they didn't expect was the huge figure already seated at your side. Simon fists clenched. The fear replaced with fury. Who dared to take his place next to you? He wanted to yell at him, throw him out of the room. It was supposed to be his seat. The male shortly looked at them, before turning to your unconscious figure. "Your mates are here, Spatzl." [German equivalent to dovie, but with dialect], his voice was calm as he held your hand. "Who are you?", Ghost hissed while his jaw nearly locked in tension. He let go of the box in his pocket, too scared he would break it. He couldn't even focus on you. The stranger looked at them again and they were greeted with a faceless image. The loose mask covering everything besides those clear blue eyes. "Easy, big boy. I'm not your enemy.", he said calm with a chuckle. His eyes shut. Did he smile, did he yawn. Ghost couldn't tell. That's how people must feel approaching himself all the time. It was Johnny who stepped forward, cautious. "Yer the one that saved our bonnie.", Soap exclaimed a bit guarded. He heard his voice before, over the comms and the thick German accent was undeniable. "Gonna leave you to it, for now. See you later, mein Engel."[my angel], his bare and huge hand caressed your cheek before standing up. Johnny did swallow a lump, as he noticed how tall the man in front of them was. Ghost had his fists still clenched, and it got worse with every second. "And to answer your question. I'm König. When you're friends with her, than we should get along. But don't step the line.", he stated softly while slightly tilting his head down. His blue eyes met the dark ones of Ghost. A tension was created, laying thick in the air and everyone could feel it, you could cut it with a knife. They stared down each other. Their brows furrowed before König left the room with a satisfied giggle.

And it only got worse. Anytime Simon would pay you a visit, he would already be there. Seated at your bed, your hand in his. He wanted to shove him out of the room, tear him apart that he finally would stay away from you. He acted like he was someone really special. It made him sick. Even Johnny stopped the teasing and joking comments in Ghost's presence, he knew that Simon was at the edge of his limits. Why did this guy couldn't leave you alone? Johnny had to force Ghost to go to the base's gym with them. To blow off some steam, and anytime he threw his fists against the punchbag, he did image that it would be him. The thorn in his side.

Simon wasn't allowed to stay nonstop in your room while you were still unconscious, he only had a few hours per day to spent them in your presence and those few he had to share with Kyle, Johnny, and damn König. It pissed him off, the way that man was always there and pretending you were his property. Who did he think he is?!

He never said something though. Only throwing him death glares and hoping he would leave after some time. Kyle explained later that he was a colonel of KorTac, and they should better not try to pick a fight with him. Price left a note about it. The 141 and KorTac weren’t actually friends, so they should keep it at bay. That wouldn't end well for no parties. So, Ghost suppressed the urge to smash his head against the wall and tearing that ugly mask down that face. Anytime they were in a room together it was Lieutenant Ghost that stood next to your bed. Cold, distant, work brain on, but as soon as the Austrian left the room - what he gladly did to grant the 141 some peace -  Simon moved to your side. Taking your hands in his gloved ones, not averting his gaze from you. Not even for second. He didn't dare to look away, scared to miss something. A muffled groan, a twitch of your eyes or fingers. Anything that told him you were here with him. He didn't doubt that you weren't strong enough to recover, but Simon hated the waiting. He usually was patient, but not for you to wake up again. Even if the nurses told him that your conditions got better day by day, it wasn't enough for him. He needed you to open your eyes, to look at him again. To see him. To smile at him. He wanted to hear your voice again. Witnessing your laughter because of Johnny's stories. Listening of the joking arguments you and Kyle shared. Hearing you say his name again. God knows how much he wanted to hear that again. He needed it. He craved it. But he would wait, it was worth to wait for it. He knew it.

It was on the fifths day when he snapped. Johnny sat next to you at one side of the bed, while Simon on the other. Kyle next to the Scot, half asleep. Johnny told a story; he already had told you. Maybe he hoped that you'd wake up and scold him for telling the same story over and over again. Simon didn't care. His eyes lingered on you. Your usual stubbornness and strength smoothed out. Replaced with a weakness, a fragile figure he needed to protect at all costs. He stared at your face, your arms. Recognizing and memorizing every scar, dimple, freckle. Everything that made your face unique. He noticed a deep scar at your throat and some burned flesh at your right upper arm, it seemed bigger than the small spot that wasn't covered through the clothes they gave you. He took everything in and burned it in his brain. Scared that he could forget a small detail. You never talked about how you got the scars. That's something both of you wouldn't share. Stories too deep, too painful, but Simon hoped that one day, he could fight the urge to hide it. He wanted to share his story with you, he wanted you to see him as the person he was behind the mask. Behind Ghost. He made a promise to himself, that if you would let him, he wanted to tell you everything. Step by step. One thing at the right time. You already told him so much about yourself, now should be his turn.

Just in that moment the door opened, and the giant walked into the room. Simon immediately switched mentally, and Ghost let go of your hand. Staring at him through the mask. Why did he always had to interrupt your - his - peace. "Hallöchen.", [hi there], he chimed while moving to your side. Johnny stopped his story and looked at you, and then at Ghost. "Don't ya have more important things to do, colonel", he exhaled sharply while his eyes didn't move away from König's statue. He couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't handle how he regarded everything as a matter of course. "More important than meine Liebe, no I don't think so." [my love], he chuckled while looking down at you. His hands slowly making his way up to yours again. "Bloody ‘ell, stop touching her the whole time.", Ghost hissed. He didn't know in what relationship you two were, but he remembered that you had never mentioned him. You talked a lot about Randy and never ever about some jerk called König. Also, he did remember that one time when he tried to get his hand closer to yours, on the patio during one of your shared smokes, that you immediately pulled back and he retreated. He can't imagine that you would enjoy those hands all over you the whole time.

"Excuse me?", König stopped his movement and looked down at Ghost. "Ya heard me. Stop it." - "I told you don't step a line, big boy." König moved over where Ghost was seated and the later stood up. "Yer invadin' her space, 'nd stop callin' me that.", he snarled back. His accent grew thicker on his tongue as his anger rose. Staring in each other’s eyes while arguing about the situation. Johnny tried to calm both down, trying to talk them out, but the discussion only became more heated. Hissing, snarling at each other, mocking the opposite. Johnny was scared they could start a fist fight any second. "You don't even know her like I do." König's usual smooth tone completely gone and with that statement Ghost's patience was gone. He took a grip on the first thing reachable, his collar. "Enough!", it was Kyle who stood up now. His voice determined and rough. "Skadi needs rest, if you want to scream at each other like little kids do, do that somewhere else!", he looked furious at them and König nodded slowly, looking down at you. Ghost pulled his hands slowly back. "He's right. I'll come back later.", König left the room and let Ghost back who now had an argument with Soap.

Not so heated, no screaming at each other but still serious. Kyle shook his head while sitting down again. "We're their guests, I can't stand him either. Total arsehole. But for her sake, we need to pull ourselves together." - "I know.", Ghost knew all of that, but he couldn't bare it anymore. He couldn't work with that anymore. "Simon. If he hadn't been there...", Johnny's voice snapped him - Simon - back to the reality. It was rare that he used his first name, therefore it had quite an effect on him and the context even more. "Ya do not have to remind me." Simon's voice was calmer again, filled with guilt. His head hung low; his eyes pinned to his hands that nearly started a war. "Could you both shut up!", Kyle exhaled again, not daring to look at the two across form the bed. His eyes were pinned on you. "I can't understand what she's saying!"

With that both of them stopped immediately and turned their whole attention onto you. Your eyes were open only the slightest and your lips moved slowly, but no words escaped them. "Water, get her some water.", Johnny moved to get something to drink and a nurse while you tried the hardest to speak. Simon was too stunned, just starring at you, while Kyle took the word, "Calm down. We're all here. Don't push it too far. We're not going anywhere. " You hardly nodded in response and closed your eyes once more. Everything hurt, but seeing them around you, hearing their voices, it washed away some sorrows. You tried to move but were abruptly stopped by the jolting pain that came from your side. You wanted to take a grip on the wound that hurt, but the thing was, everything hurt. Even breathing sent jolts of pain through your body. Your mind was hazy, and you couldn’t remember a thing.  Simon stared down at you, completely overwhelmed about all the things he felt.

"Take it easy, Sergeant." A medic entered your room and shooed the men out of it.

From this moment, everything became easier. Especially for Simon. You woke up, you looked at him. You were okay. Still, you had a long way ahead, you slept almost all day. Giving your body the rest that was essential, but now that you were conscious, Simon could stay longer in your room. He sat by your side the whole time, not even daring to leave the room in case you needed something. In case you needed him, and oh lord he wished that you to need him. He placed the blue box next to you. In case you woke up and he couldn't be by your side. That you found something familiar next to you. Something that could provide you with some comfort. There were only short periods of time when you were awake, and in those you had to fight the immense pain, before your body was too exhausted and gave in, bringing you to sleep again. You still couldn’t move, speaking was hard. Simon would be by your side, telling you sweet nothings, little praises you couldn't even hear. Your head was still so hazy. But besides all the circumstances it felt like peace. Not even König could interrupt this now. To Simon's luck he was called in for an operation, that way he could spend the whole day at your side. Not Ghost.

taglist: open just lmk

@yyiikes @saffronimagines @originaldeerhottub @illuminwtesz @killergoddess97 @kaelaiscool @spiritndrain

#cod mw x reader #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #cod x reader #cod mw ghost #task force 141 #simon riley #enemies to friends to lovers #enemies to lovers #ghost cod #death of peace of mind #dopom #könig mw2 #könig x reader #könig x you #könig call of duty #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost angst #cod ghost #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost jealous #slow burn #ghost fanfiction #cod fanfic #cod modern warfare

[imitation-steamroller]

The Lady Sings at Night

Ao3 link

It was a misty, moonlit night on the Island of Sodor, and James was puffing slowly down the line as he delivered the mail.

“Leave it to Percy to break down tonight of all nights,” he muttered. “He knows how much I hate running through the mist, especially at night.”

“You can complain back at the sheds,” his driver chuckled. “Right now, we need to make up for lost time.”

James sighed and rattled down the line. “At least the signal is green.”

But what James didn’t know was that the points were stuck, and were headed towards an abandoned branchline. The red engine chuffed on through the night.

Soon, James came upon an old viaduct. Vines wrapped around its arches as it stretched on into the night.

“Driver,” James said, trying to sound brave. “I don’t think this is the way to Peel Godred.”

He was just about to head back when he heard it.

“…Far away from it all~” a voice sang out softly. “Never meaning to hurry-”

“What was that?” The fireman asked.

“Who cares?” James replied. “Let’s get out of here!”

And without another word, James hurried back to the main line.

…

“Fancy not finishing your mail run until daylight,” Thomas teased the next morning.

“I suppose delivering the mail is harder than Percy makes it look,” Gordon grunted.

“It wasn’t my fault,” James puffed. “I was forced to go slow because of the stupid mist!”

Henry was unimpressed. “Doesn’t stop Percy.”

“And besides,” James continued, “I went down the wrong line on the way to Peel Godred. That only held me up more.”

Edward suddenly looked intrigued. “The wrong line? Was there a long viaduct by any chance? With a little platform on the other side?”

“I don’t know about any platforms, but I did see the viaduct. I wouldn’t cross it for all the polish on the island.”

“Edward?” Thomas asked. “What’s so special about that line?”

“A friend of mine used to live there. She was privately owned, but she was lent out to the railway when the workload was too heavy. Although, she stopped visiting one day. I always wondered what happened to her.”

The other engines remained silent. They knew what most likely happened to the engine.

“That might be who I heard on the bridge,” James said quietly.

“What?” The others asked.

“When I stopped at the viaduct, my crew and I heard somebody singing. Maybe it was that engine’s ghost.”

“Rubbish,” snorted Gordon. “It was just your mind and the mist playing tricks on you, little James. That old line is about as haunted as…as…”

“The big station?” Henry suggested.

“Thank you. It’s about as haunted as the big station!”

“Then why don’t you go prove it?” James puffed angrily.

Gordon suddenly lost his bluster. “Well…I’m too big to travel down dilapidated branchlines. It would never do if the bridge were to collapse with me on it.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “I’ll go investigate. I don’t think there’s a ghost, but I trust James when he says he heard something.”

“No you don’t,” Emily chuckled. “You just want an excuse to have an adventure.”

“That too. James, can you show me where the tracks to the old line are tonight?”

“Sure. Better your bunker than mine.”

“Be careful up there,” Edward warned. “Nobody has been down that line in decades. There’s no telling what state the rails beyond the viaduct are in.”

…

That night, the mist was thicker than ever. Thomas was glad he had the mail train’s tail lamp to follow.

“Here we are,” James said as he pulled to a stop. “Just head down this way and you’ll find the viaduct.”

“Thank you, James. I’ll be here when you finish with the mail.”

Thomas’ driver switched the points, and James watched as Thomas disappeared into the darkness.

“Good luck,” James muttered quietly.

Thomas puffed slowly down the line. He listened for the sound of singing, but all he could hear were the rails creaking beneath him and his own steady puffing.

Presently, Thomas arrived at the viaduct. It seemed even creepier than James made it out to be.

“Are you sure about this, Thomas?” The driver asked. “We can always come back when it’s light out.”

Thomas was just about to agree, when…

“I know how the moon must feel~” A voice sang softly.

“There it is! There’s no time to lose!” Thomas replied resolutely.

Slowly, the little blue engine rolled onto the viaduct. It groaned under his weight, but the bridge held firm as he chuffed across it.

On the other side was a small yard with a platform. A small coach sat alone in a siding, its wood rotting and frames rusted. In front of it were a set of points leading to a small shed. From inside, Thomas could hear the mysterious singing. Thomas rolled forward and watched as his crew pushed them open.

“Oh!” A voice cried. “Where did you come from?”

Thomas looked inside to see a rusted tank engine. She was smaller than Percy, but not quite as small as Bill and Ben. She had two lamps on her running board and a small pair of water tanks.

“Who are you?” She asked suspiciously. “You’re not scrap merchants, are you? Bernett warned me about scrap merchants.”

“No!” Thomas laughed. “My name is Thomas, and I’m here to rescue you! Well, or put your spirit to rest. You’re not a ghost, are you?”

The old engine laughed too. “No, I’m not. My name is Lady. Whatever made you think there was a ghost here?”

Thomas told her about James’ encounter and Edward’s story.

“I’m glad he remembered me,” she sighed. “And I’m sorry about your friend. I never meant to spook him. I only sing to help me pass the time.”

“Well, you’ll be singing a different tune soon, because once I get a crane and a flatbed, you’re getting out of here!”

Quickly, Thomas began to back up.

“Wait!” Lady cried. “The points, they tend to-”

Thomas' wheels hit the points, and with a loud ker-klunk, he slid off the tracks.

“They tend to switch back,” Lady finished. “Burnett always meant to fix them. What do we do now?”

“Hmm…” Thomas thought for a moment. Then… “James!”

“James? The one I frightened? What will he do?”

“I told James I’d be back at the junction by the time he finished with the mail. Once he sees that I’m not there, he’ll come looking for me! Then, we can get you to the Steamworks!”

“While we wait for him, why don’t you fill me in on everything I’ve missed over the years?”

Thomas grinned. “Well, a few years ago, there was a great railway show on the mainland…”

...

James stood cold and alone at the junction.

“Where on earth is Thomas?” He groaned. “He said he’d be back by now, didn’t he?”

“He’s probably at the sheds waiting to scare you,” chuckled the driver. “Knowing him, he might have a whole story ready.”

The fireman wasn’t so sure. “Those rails are pretty worn out. Maybe he derailed. We should make sure he’s okay.”

James watched in horror as his crew switched the points.

“Leave him!” He cried. “If Thomas wants to mess about with ghosts all night, I say let him!”

“Now James,” chastised the driver, “you know Thomas would go after you if you went missing, don’t you?”

James thought back to when Thomas returned to the steelworks to rescue him.

“Fine,” he muttered.

…

“You should have seen Ashima’s face when I told her about the Culdee Fell engines. She looked like her boiler might burst from excitement!”

Lady chuckled. “You really like this Ashima engine, don’t you?”

“Peep peep!” A distant whistle cried out. “Thomas? Where are you?”

Thomas whistled a pip pip peeeep in kind. “We’re over here! Help!”

James sighed when he saw the situation Thomas was in. “Why we let you go anywhere, I’ll never know. Did you find the ghost?”

“Sort of,” Thomas chuckled. “James, meet Lady!”

“Hello,” the older engine said politely. “Thomas said you could get us out of here.”

“You’ll have to wait until morning,” James’ driver said. “It wouldn’t be safe to bring a crane with all this mist.”

…

The next morning, the Fat Controller arrived on board Butch.

“First Hiro, then Glynn, and now Lady. Whoever will you find next, Thomas?”

He inspected Lady as Thomas was pulled back onto the rails.

“Hmm, you might be just what we need to help out on Edward’s branchline. Would you like that?”

Lady beamed. “Yes please, sir! It will be wonderful to see Edward again!”

Now, Lady trundles up and down Edward’s branchline with gleaming red-violet paint, and can often be heard singing to her passengers and trucks. James isn’t a fan, but Thomas thinks it’s the loveliest sound on the island.

#ttte #ttte fanfic #thomas and friends #thomas the tank engine #ttte thomas #ttte james #ttte lady #ttte gordon #ttte emily #ttte edward #ttte henry #the fat controller

[jgmartin]

THERE ARE NO SONGS AT THE END

Life is funny.

It’s here until it isn’t. Sometimes it wastes away over the course of years. Other times, it’s instantaneous. It’s a spark, or an ember, igniting in one moment and then dying in the next. It happens so fast that you wonder if it was ever there at all.

Hello! Goodbye!

I think that’s what you can expect your life to be. A quick thing. Here today, gone tomorrow. Up in flames, dead in a flash. It’s a bold claim and I’m not calling myself a fortune-teller, but I am saying I'm privy to some details that aren’t terribly fortunate— for you or me.

Politics. It always comes down to politics, doesn’t it? Strings. They pull them, we jerk and dance, praying that somebody somewhere has our best interests at heart. Once upon a time, I was that somebody.

Honest, I was.

I began working in government three decades ago. Back then I was still a wide-eyed and ambitious intern with big ideas about improving the human experience. I wanted to help. Deep down, I think that maybe I still do. But I can’t. Nobody can.

Here’s the thing, the big secret that they don’t want you to know: this is a game. All of it. But I’ve read the rules, and I’ve seen the state of the board, and for you and I— for the world at large, the match is rigged. We’re playing at a disadvantage.

Soon, we won’t be playing at all.

The strange thing, or maybe the depressing thing, is that it isn’t even about us. Not really. It’s not about them either— the shadow brokers at the top, making deals with the devil and trying to leverage our fate. It’s about something greater. It’s about the pretext to human existence and the destiny we’ve been afforded.

The truth is, we’re not alone in this universe. Never have been. There are things out there vaster than stars and more violent than war. Things that have been biding their time. We’ve been fed a steady diet of chaos and fury, of love and pleasure, all in an attempt to fill our insatiable hunger to feel. All in an attempt to ripen us. For Them.

Once, some force that has long since vanished, dealt with Them— the ancient terrors beyond the veil. It subdued them. Defeated them. In order to do so, it harnessed the power of creation itself: the Big Bang.

We've determined the origin of our universe was not a product of chance, but rather an attack of desperation. It was a gamble to overcome titans too horrible to comprehend. And it worked.

For a while.

Now those Beings are awakening again. Slowly, one by one, they’re lurching up from their slumbers and turning their eyes to the rarest, most empowering energy in the universe: human emotion. Intangible and infinite, forged in the kiln of our souls.

We cannot stop them. We cannot contain them. Some of us are even working to help them, bombarding the masses with multimedia, grooming our thoughts and poisoning our minds. Anything for a reaction.

If that sounds hopeless, then just know that it is. You and I are fuel for abominations. Calories for the cosmos.

Our harvest is coming, and when it arrives there will be no resistance and there will be no songs of our passing. Our spirits will be cremated in the stomachs of ancient things. The fabric of our beings will be scattered far and wide, lost and mutilated, less than a memory.

But there’s another way.

See, the people at the top have a plan, and it’s a plan we’ve been inching closer toward year by year. Soon, you'll see it spring into action. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But soon.

It begins with a panic, and the long drone of sirens in the street. The world stops. Nobody knows what to do, but that's okay because this part doesn't last long.

Soon after, there's a crack of thunder. And screaming. So much screaming. It's terrible and awful, but it's quickly drowned by the low bass of infinity and the rush of a hurricane. Windows shatter. Bones tremble and skin sears. The horizon erupts into smoke and flame. A thousand mushroom clouds ascend into heaven carrying a billion cauterized souls.

Of course, there will be survivors. The unlucky few. Fret not. In the hours following, the sky will split and bleed black, irradiating their flesh and exorcising them of their destiny.

Finally! We will be free-- all of us.

It's frightening, I know. Ultimately though, what choice do we have? Some people won't want me telling you this. They'll be afraid of the shockwaves and what it could do to upset society, but as human beings I think we're owed an explanation.

So make your peace. Say your goodbyes. I don't know exactly when the end will come. I just know that when it does, I recommend a front row seat.

Don't wait for the rain.

#creative writing #creepypasta #horror #writblr #writeblr #original writing #writers of tumblr #writers #writing #writeblr community #so scary #sci fi horror #cosmic horror #short fiction #flash fiction #one shot #short horror #jgmartin #no songs at the end

[dendrahrah]

[ soft touches / still accepting (please!!)]

@furaajesuu sent: 001. grab their hand .

Ever since she first stepped foot into the Paldea region, Dendra Iwai had devoted everything she had towards her personal training, studies, and--most importantly--the prestigious Academy and its students. Even now, the newly-minted Battle Studies instructor often finds herself racing around the school's hallways to put out metaphorical fires, running last-second errands for her colleagues, and staying late to offer meditation sessions for stressed-out kids, all of them sprawled out across the schoolyard as their teacher walks them through a simple deep breathing exercise...

And sometimes, even for an absolute warrior like Dendra, everything comes crashing down, her careful array of balanced responsibilities collapsing inwards like a fallen house of cards. It's all just too much to handle. Even for me.

On these rare occasions where the pressure threatens to crush her, she knows exactly where to go, every time.

In case one should ever need the other, Dendra and Tulip maintain a longstanding open-line, open-door policy between themselves: call me if you need anything, and come over anytime. And whenever the instructor arrives at her best friend's door in that shaken state--usually late at night, on the verge of breaking down--the Alfornada Gym Leader knows exactly what to do, taking Dendra's hand and ushering her inside. Within minutes, Tulip has soothing teas prepared, scented candles lit, and she's sitting close to her best friend on the couch, both of them covered in warm blankets.

It always takes a while for Dendra--stubborn Dendra--to open up, but Tulip takes her hand and holds on, the fashionista's grip gentle but steadying, her thumb tracing comforting circles across the back. And, with a little additional coaxing, it isn't long before a teary Dendra will finally spill everything on her mind. Tulip is one of the few people that have heard her vent, really vent, and they both end up venting together, holding fast to each other as (through rants and gossip) they release all of their pent-up negative emotions from the past weeks, sometimes months. It's cathartic. Therapy.

And when it's all over, when Dendra is finally falling asleep on Tulip's couch, she isn't focusing on the stresses and pressures of her life anymore. Instead, the instructor is thinking about how lucky she is, how grateful she feels for the inseparable bond formed with Tulip all those years ago...especially during times like these. They had each other's backs until the end.

Thanks, Tuli.

Nobody gets me like you do.

#furaajesuu #(oh noooo i got emotional over these two again and ended up writing another novel......OTL) #(hope you like this!! Im gonna do the rest of these tomorrow) #(and yes that includes the other one you sent!!)

[honeyleesblog]

Why You Need to Master the Art of Self-Discipline

To become amazing at self-restraint is troublesome. Turning into a student of self-control is hard as well. Realizing about self-control is a deep rooted study. Diving into individuals' psychological express, their childhood, and current conditions is something that analysts have been doing to more deeply study why they battle such a great amount with it. Despite the fact that it might appear like you have zero influence over certain parts of your life, it isn't exactly the situation. Indeed you do. You simply don't know about it yet. Continuous practice and supporting is something critical to securing self-control. To dominate and further develop anything in life takes time, persistence, and practice. It is in this manner you also can work on your self-control.

Why You Need to Master the Art of Self-Discipline

  Basically, self-control is the capacity to control your sentiments, activities, and feelings according to your will. Say, for example, your capacity to adhere to your arrangements of taking care of your obligation, saving, and putting away cash with regards to your funds. You are bound to make progress and remain roused when you have areas of strength for an on your self-control. It requires an incredible hang on your self control, which toward the finish of that day rouses your driving forces and activities. The capacity to keep on track is viewed as resolve, though making a steady move throughout quite a while to further develop your determination is called self-control. Self-control and resolve generally remain inseparable. Advantages of self-restraint Further developing your self-restraint has many advantages including: Assisting with nervousness The sensation of nervousness happens when you feel that you don't have a hold on whichever circumstance you are in. Self-restraint assists you with being in charge of how you act, this way you are more averse to be restless. Accomplishing your drawn out objectives One of the advantages of rehearsing self-restraint is that it helps in diminishing interruptions and purposeful difficulties. With this, it makes you one stride nearer to accomplishing your objectives. In case you surrender to the interruptions, it will mean getting to those objectives quicker than you envisioned. Being more satisfied Progress will constantly be seen when not entirely settled to arrive at your ultimate objective, and it is constantly trailed by the sensation of joy when you notice your achievements. Self-restraint contributes significantly to this cycle. Flexibility Enticement is a significant mishap when you need to accomplish your objectives, for example the impulse to get diverted or to enjoy reprieves that keep you away from progress. Yet, assuming you focus on restraining yourself, the capacity to oppose allurements increments which thus makes you stronger in exploring obscure and startling conditions. 7 Basic ways of working on your self-control Building self-control abilities permit you to stop negative behavior patterns and achieve long haul and momentary objectives and turn your life around totally. Think of it as an interest in yourself. Here we have illustrated seven moves toward assist you with building your self-control and work to better yourself and life as you merit. Well... in the event that you work for it. 1. Commencement, then, at that point, make a move Inspiration doesn't generally come effectively and on days when you're especially unmotivated, count down from ten and power yourself to proceed with anything it is you were doing. The commencement can assist you with moving your outlook to the ideal mental state in assisting with remaining spurred. Customarily a push is required to continue from your misfortune, which ought to continuously come from inside yourself. Nobody assists you with keeping focused better compared to yourself. What's more, that is the means by which self-control starts. 2. Put your objectives where you notice them Recording your objectives generally makes your will to accomplish them much more genuine. Hang that sheet some place you work frequently as well as in a spot you are in constantly (for instance - your room or vehicle). Attempt to consolidate writing down your objectives in various spots also, similar to your kitchen, and your yearly organizer. Make it a highlight set genuine schedule updates on your telephone which can go off on more than one occasion per week. Be caring to yourself. Never make it a highlight alarm or disgrace yourself into accomplishing your objectives, forever be in a positive and empowering outlook. In the more extended run, you ought to have a cheerful outlook on how far you have come, and not feel like you have burned through your time. The work you do and the work you put in ought to cause you to feel blissful and not horrible. Rouse yourself more by following the words and statements said by individuals whom you appreciate. On the off chance that you don't know whether you have defined the right objectives, begin investing energy going once again your objectives and ensuring they line up with the things you need for yourself. 3. Remind yourself why you began Continuously ponder the ultimate objective without permitting yourself to forget where and how you began. Continue to remind yourself, regardless of how troublesome things get, why and how you set and began pursuing this objective, and contemplate your honor or the award when you will have accomplished your objective at last. Begin picturing the situation of having achieved whichever objective you have featured with and having assumed total command of your life. Keep updates on your telephone to recognize every objective you have finished and be glad for yourself. Certifications go far in keeping the right attitude and keeping up with center towards the ultimate objective. 4. Put forth little objectives first Try not to overpower yourself out of nowhere by defining significant standards which you likely will not have the option to accomplish in one go. Construct your outlook and certainty by laying out more modest objectives and as you continue to accomplish them reliably continue on toward higher ones. For example, if you need to run a 10 miles long distance race, fire developing your endurance by one mile daily, and afterward when you have accomplished that, raise the distance. Persistence is the way to not losing trust in yourself and the cycle. These minor accomplishments can assist with supporting trust in yourself and keep you spurred to proceed and not stop or surrender. 5. Work on focusing on Conclude which assignments merit committing the most work to, then, at that point, coordinate your day to crush them completely. On the off chance that you set a review plan, you're less inclined to dawdle on the not exactly exquisite errands. Focus on assignments that you could do without to especially do and you'll be feeling much better by the day's end with achieving them sooner than fearing to do them later on. 6. Know your shortcomings Try not to disregard your shortcoming and proactively work on them. Continuously focus on assignments where you could slip and work on how you might forestall that. Assuming you realize that you finish your exposition in 60 minutes, don't utilize your telephone and don't take "short" breaks until it is finished. This sort of assurance and a solid will to battle your enticement will help you in the more extended run. At the point when you realize that you want to return to work prior however you need to keep awake until late and watch that series you love, put resources into some Melatonin. You have the instruments to retaliate against your own enticements. You simply still up in the air. 7. Get companions to consider you responsible It is plausible that assuming somebody whom you like and appreciate is following you and your advancement, you are less inclined to undermine your objectives. Have somebody like your closest companion or accomplice put forth their objectives with you as well and you can propel and push each other towards your ultimate objectives. What's more, when the circumstances get particularly intense, you can be there to give each other the expected inspiration and that additional push. Here are some self-control statements to keep you spurred Everybody needs a "shot in the arm" sometimes to deal with their self-restraint and accomplish their objectives. Thus here are some extraordinary self-restraint statements to assist you with remaining persuaded. "Since you're battling with self-control doesn't mean you need to raise the white banner and proclaim your personal growth endeavors a total disappointment. All things considered, work to build the possibilities that you'll adhere to your better propensities - in any event, when you don't feel like it." - Amy Morin "The capacity to train yourself to postpone delight for the time being to appreciate more noteworthy prizes in the long haul is the vital essential for progress." - Brian Tracy "Wonderful jewels can rise up out of the soil. Battle can show you self-restraint and strength." - Dipa Sanatani "The aggravation of self-control won't ever be basically as extraordinary as the agony of disappointment." - Mysterious "Self-control is the supernatural power that makes you basically relentless." - Unknown "With next to no selflessness, how might there be a triumph?" - Lailah Gifty Akita "All victories start with self-control. It begins with you." - Dwayne Johnson "Self-restraint is the main power which can keep you stimulated even in the hardest of the conditions." - Sukant Ratnakar "Achievement doesn't simply occur. You must be deliberate about it, and that takes discipline." - John C. Maxwell "We do today what they will not, so tomorrow we can achieve what they can't." - Dwayne Johnson "Never quit trusting in your very own change. It is as yet happening even when you may not understand it or feel like it." - Lalah Delia "Self-control is only reluctance." - Pearl Zhu "Achievement starts with self-restraint." - Sunday Adelaja The best self-restraint book to peruse: No Reasons No Real reasons!: The Force Of Self-restraint by Brian Tracy is no doubt, the best book on self-control. It makes sense of how you can make progress in your life, including your own and monetary objectives. Every section has activities to assist you with applying the "no justifiable reasons" way to deal with your own life through which you'll figure out how to be more focused. I suggest this book each opportunity I get and I wind up integrating its examples into my way of life all the time. All things considered Everything unquestionably revolves around resolving to improve and getting yourself back when you slip while turning into an expert of self-control. Decide the parts of your life that you would need to enhance and spread out an activity intend to help

[lawofattraction07]

Law of Attraction - Cooperative Reality

Widespread Law

There has been a huge measure of conversation of late about the Law of Attraction, you could say that the Law of Attraction has acquired big name status as the individual advancement apparatus existing apart from everything else, the ongoing famous technique for showing your fantasies. What the vast majority don't understand is that the Law of Attraction is certainly not a novel thought, truth be told it's not so much as an old thought as in there was a particular moment when someone begat the saying and unexpectedly everybody started utilizing it like some new machine. An individual obviously imagined the expression Law of Attraction, in any case, similarly that Sir Isaac Newton imagined the word gravity. The Law of Attraction like gravity, simply is, nobody claims the privileges to it, as a matter of fact trying not to utilize it is incomprehensible.

The Law of Attraction is one of numerous regulations by which humanity has been working deliberately or unwittingly starting from the very beginning. The vast majority are willfully ignorant of what these regulations mean for their lives and similarly ignorant that the force of these regulations would be able be tackled and used to incredible impact consistently.

Since the arrival of the film The Secret, the Law of Attraction has come to the very front in people groups minds as a definitive device for completely changing you furthermore, that is something to be thankful for. I find anyway that many individuals subsequent to observing also, perusing data about the Law of Attraction are still fairly confounded with regards to how it really works. There is a ton of discuss holding pictures in the brain, sending thought vibrations out to the universe, keeping a condition of assumption and appreciation, also, trusting that the universe will answer by the Law of Attraction and give that upon which you have focussed your aim, etc. These things are exceptionally awesome furthermore, I have tracked down every one of them valuable in my own learning, yet none of these thoughts furnished me with really agreeable responses about how the Law of Attraction truly functions, both profoundly and experimentally.

Presently assuming that you're in any way similar to me, unbridled religiosity simply doesn't cut it, the vast majority like basically to have some sort of fair clarification for why they ought to engage with the Law of Attraction, in any case we will generally dismiss the entire thought through and through, which would be a sad for sure.

Indispensable Knowledge

The difficulty that I think certain individuals have is that they find out about mind boggling achievement stories including the Law of Attraction, astonishing stories of individuals that have gone from having a typical sort of presence to carrying on with a day to day existence that a great many people just dream about, and afterward set out sincerely to accomplish comparable outcomes. Obviously not every person accomplishes the outcomes they had expected, why would that be? Has the Law of Attraction fizzled? Are all of the examples of overcoming adversity sham? Are they simply smart ploys to inspire us to purchase books and films about how to utilize the Law of Attraction?

There are numerous singular cases about the Law of Attraction bringing incredible overflow furthermore, the satisfaction of extraordinary dreams, and there are additionally con artists in each everyday issue, strict, common, logical, yet it would be an incredible error to dismiss an idea of such potential as a result of a couple of extortionists, you should abandon all private advancement at this moment.

With respect to the main thought that the Law of Attraction has some way or another neglected to work, my own experience lets me know that this is essentially impractical, the Law of Attraction isn't a strategy, or a cunning plan that is liable to business sectors or the states of mind of people, it is all around as steady and unsurprising as the sun rise, everything necessary is the proper level of understanding to use its true capacity.

This I accept is where a ton of disarray exists, for what reason truly do certain individuals appear to be capable to apply the Law of Attraction with extraordinary effect and others battle to see the littlest things manifest? The response is information, there is a fundamental absence of understanding about how the Law of Fascination works. Certain individuals anyway appear to be ready to handily apply the Law of Fascination and come by results despite the fact that they have no more information on what is as a matter of fact occurring than most others, why would that be? It is on the grounds that a few people have a psychological pre-attitude to tolerating the Law of Attraction, its necessities and results without question, others don't and need further guidance about the basics of the general rule that good energy attracts good prior to having the option to appropriately put forth a concentrated effort.

Its a piece like being given a pack for a model plane without the get together directions, certain individuals might have a characteristic comprehension about how to gather things, they might have watched their dad gathering model planes before, however for others it will be an inordinately difficult assignment, tedious and disappointing.

It is my experience that with an essential expansion in understanding about the Law of Fascination and the basic rules that administer it, any individual can start to see genuine outcomes in each part of their life very quickly. So we should now investigate at a portion of that valuable information that will help us in acquiring a superior comprehension of step by step instructions to apply the Law of Attraction to incredible effect.

The Most Important Thing

The main thing that I might want to say is that the Law of Attraction isn't the most strong regulation in the universe, as opposed to prominent sentiment, there are various basic rules that oversee how the Law of Attraction functions, and that is where we will start.

I need to begin by offering this expression; when we utilize the Law of Attraction, we don't draw in things! this is additionally in opposition to prevalent attitude. There isn't a games vehicle with your vibration on it hanging tight for you to accept that it's yours before it shows up in the carport. This might appear to be a ludicrous proclamation, yet there are numerous educators of the Law of Attraction that state precisely that, it's tied in with showing things, well it's not.

The Law of Attraction doesn't work by you putting out an idea vibration to the universe and some way or another the universe, through the rule of the Law of Attraction, answers that idea by sending you what matches that vibration, yet sadly this is educated. Certain individuals just acknowledge this clarification and get on with utilizing the Law of Attraction to extraordinary achievement, you could call that unbridled religiosity, furthermore, I generally approve of that by any means, however it won't work for everybody, and that does concern me since it can work for everybody.

The main thing you will at any point comprehend about the Law of Attraction is that it generally affects others, different personalities, different real factors, not things. I call this fundamental rule Cooperative Reality and examine it exhaustively all through my book.

Set forth plainly, Cooperative Reality expresses that to apply the Law of Attraction you require the participation of others real factors. Grasping this idea has been the single most noteworthy stage in my very own development, when I worked out like this acknowledgment it totally altered my involvement with utilizing the Law of Attraction. It given me significant bearing in the use of the relative multitude of strategies I was unconsciously utilizing to apply the Law of Attraction.

[pharmdup]

Do you guys remember this type of math problem?

I hated it too.

Unrelatedly, I’m getting a group of pharmacists to review vancomycin again.

#pharmblr #acute care: 20% of the drama is warranted #NOBODY KNOWS WHEN STEADY STATE HAS ARRIVED #anyone who claims otherwise is lying to you

[aenaxes-moved]

reverie

[crosshair x f!reader] kashyyyk is beautiful at night. crosshair takes advantage of the moment of peace to sneak away. you follow.

warnings: none, just some snoggin’ with cross (you can technically read this as gn!reader if you disregard the petname)

w/c: 2.2k

a/n: NO SPOILERS! this is me coping with the current crosshair situation :’-) i wanted to explore his softer side because dammit he’s got feelings (he might be a little out of character but my house my rules heheh)

“Nice hideout you have going on.”

“Had,” Crosshair corrects without looking up, too focused on carefully wrapping a rag around the scope of his firepuncher laid carefully across his lap.

Had you heard him speak one short year ago, when you were fresh out of GARMC orientation and shunted straight onto the Marauder, you would have certainly taken the sniper’s curtness for frigidity. And you had, for your first few months with Clone Force 99, taken his flat intonation and pointed tone with a timid squeak every time he’d come in for a bacta patch or hypodermic needle.

But things were different, now.

There is no deflated resignation that he’s been discovered, hidden a good few paces away from where Tech sits entranced by the wizened green Jedi master. Nor is there icy snarl curling at the edges of his lips, that you might deign to interrupt his alone time with Darling (nobody got between Crosshair with a microfiber cloth and Darling, not even Wrecker). Instead, he acknowledges you in his cool nonchalance, beckoning in the most backhanded of ways. You grin, seizing your welcome and ducking under a thick loop of vine into the small clearing where he sits perched on a boulder.

“Was Master Yoda talking too much?” you laugh, dropping down onto the balls of your feet as you peer up at Crosshair (who still won’t tear his laser focus from polishing over the dark metal of his rifle). You wrap your arms around your knees and grin when he groans.

“General Yoda is fine; it’s Tech that keeps prattling on with him,” Crosshair mutters, scrubbing a touch more aggressively at the base of the scope.

“Oh, Cross, let him have his fun,” you chide playfully, finally earning you a disdainful glance and a raised brow. “It’s not every day that you get to interrogate one of the oldest sentient beings in the galaxy.”

“Did you just call the general old?” Crosshair snorts, flipping his toothpick from one corner of his mouth to the other.

“Crosshair, how dare you accuse me like that!”

“You said it,” he shrugs, and you catch a glimpse of a fleeting smile before he turns his head back down, away, towards his rifle.

You huff, and for a moment after, there’s silence. Mostly because you know that even your best retort would be effortlessly shot down, but in part to just indulge, to look quietly at the ornery sniper you’ve come to call a dear friend, to take in him and all of his tall, confident quietude. You both know that he knows what you’re doing, drinking him in, but he says nothing every time.

It’s in these brief reveries that you catch him in his softest, purest, state, methodically cleaning the firepuncher, disassembling, reassembling, replaying the soothing knowledge and practice that every piece had its rightful place. Things would align. Even with his chin turned down, his features nearly obscured by the shadows of the jungle canopy, there’s just enough light yet to make out the slight upward turn of his lips, a wry smile around his toothpick as he unclips his scope.

“So why are you here?”

The daydream is broken, and you flicker your eyes up to his with an embarrassed cough when you notice he’s been staring back. And if his smug half-smile has anything to say, it’s a triumphant and coy I caught you.

“Well,” you laugh, quietly pushing down the rising heat high in your neck. “I wanted to try to see the night sky on Kashyyyk before we leave, but I’m too scared to go alone.” You plaster on the sickliest of smiles you can, batting your lashes up at Crosshair in the way that would have Wrecker at your beck and call in seconds, but one that you know has no effect on his brother.

“Bullshit.” Crosshair rolls his eyes, but he’s already snapping the scope back onto Darling and sliding down from his perch. “Only things in the galaxy you’re scared of are porgs,” he says as he fastens his rifle into his pack and slings one strap over his shoulder, offering his free hand down to you.

“They—they have weirdly sentient eyes, okay!” you snap a bit hotly. You blame the warmth blooming across your cheeks on the fact that only Crosshair knows about your fear of the terrifying little fellows, not that he’s squeezing your hand and hefting you onto your feet.

“Why not ask Wrecker to take you?” Crosshair asks, letting go of your hand—to your relief and dismay all at once—and brush off whatever undergrowth sits dusted over your shoulders. “He’s sappy.”

“He’s busy making friends with the Wookiees.” And butchering Shyriiwook while he did it.

“And Hunter?”

“He’s also making friends with the Wookiees.” It’s not entirely untrue, if learning how to whittle blades out of branches counted as friendly bonding.

“Echo?”

“Also... making friends... with the Wookiees.”

You both know Echo has probably long since fallen asleep after a dose of painkillers for his fall during a particularly messy bit of the firefight. You could have actually told Crosshair the truth, but a part of you won’t take your chances—depending on Crosshair’s mood, he’d send you back to wake up his newest brother and return to shining up the stock of his rifle. But instead of calling your bluff, Crosshair simply shakes his head and sighs, extending his hand to you.

Mind suddenly and miserably blank, you stare mutely at his outstretched palm, an offering, then up at him.

“Come on, you said you were scared,” Crosshair teases, a lazy, sloping smirk curved over his features. He beckons you with a single flick of his fingers. Smug bastard, you think.

“My hero,” you snark back, but you’re quick to close the distance. Even if it takes bearing a bit of his snide sideswipes, you’re surprised at how easy it is to set aside your headstrong pride and simper for the sniper’s attention (though he’s giving it much more freely than you had anticipated). Palm to palm, the cool fabric of his blacks between you, you secure your grip around him as snug as you can.

Crosshair leads you quietly through the underbrush, going so far as to lift drooping vines and push aside especially tall ferns for you, all the while keeping as secure a grip on your hand as your grip on his.

It’s comforting, even while tamping through the darkness. You trust all of his brothers with your life, but maybe, just maybe, you trust Crosshair just that much more as he leads you deeper into the jungle.

After an short trek, you arrive at another clearing, the ground barren and drier than the damp, brush heavy terrain you had come to know during the Kashyyyk campaign. It’s no bigger than the armory floor spread on the Marauder, but as Crosshair pulls you into the clearing, you realize it’s not the earth beneath your feet that commands your wonder.

Crosshair nods his chin up, and your eyes are quick to follow. It’s the pearlescent glow of the three moons high above the treetops, shining clear and soft down through the canopy skylight.

Two moons float above in the bluish gray darkness of the galaxy, the third moon peeking from behind a few trees, in between them, a delicate freckling of stars, twinkling planets, comets ambling quietly through space. You’re barely aware of the grin spreading across your face as you soak in the night sky. It’s everything you had hoped it would be.

And with Crosshair at your side, it’s just that much more.

“Found it while I was scouting,” Crosshair’s voice comes, soft through the ambient silence of the jungle. Even in your rapture, you can feel his eyes on you, lingering on the green earth and watching your wonder far up in the sky.

“It’s amazing,” you breathe, and you squeeze his hand. You tear your eyes away from the starscape above to meet Crosshair with a smile. “Thank you, Cross.”

The sniper is quiet as you meet his gaze, trained on you with an indiscernible expression, a depth in his dark eyes you have only seen once before when you caught a glimpse of him at the helm, looking quietly into the expanse of space laid out before him.

It’s peace, you decide. A stillness, a calm, the quietest respite in the midst of this war. You gently rub over his knuckles.

“Close your eyes, y/n,” Crosshair finally murmurs, barely above a whisper, his gaze unwavering. And your eyes are already fluttered shut when you hear something hit the underbrush and a crunch of dirt under his boot as he steps forward and loops an arm around your waist. You squeeze your eyes shut a bit tighter as you press up against the battle-worn plastoid of his chestplate and feel his fingers splay over your hip.

Warm, rough fingertips gently pinch your chin and tilt your head up just so. A soft breeze wafts over your cheeks, carrying with it the woody musk and cloying pollen of the forest around you, and it is in that moment that you realize that he had dropped his glove onto the forest floor, had left it there and chosen to hold you in his bare hand, smoothing his thumb over your skin.

“There’s a good girl.”

The only warning you get is a ghost of a breath gently exhaled onto your skin before there is warmth, pulled close and steady and sweet as Crosshair gently tugs on your bottom lip.

He’s soft, you think mindlessly through the blissful haze between your ears. You faintly register the taste of the lavender balm you had bought him planetside on Crucival as he trails his hand up from your hip, over the dip in your back, and up to cup the base of your neck, pulling you closer.

All that teething’ll dry you out you had told him, and he’d scoffed something along the lines of soldiers—especially clones—not needing or wanting luxury goods. And yet you taste the telltale floral notes on his skin. You foggily wonder if he keeps the little tin on his ammunition belt as he kneads firm, steady fingers into your neck. You’ll gloat about it later.

There’s lavender, and then you taste him, just a trace, when he drags his tongue over the plush skin of your lips. At some point, you’ve brought your hands up to curl at the base of his head, threading through neatly cropped silver strands, and you part your lips. Finally, finally you can taste him on your own tongue.

He’s battle weary, laced with the slightest tang of synthetic wood treatment bleached into his toothpicks, anxiety bitten and jaw clenched. But here, now, only the faint residues of that tension remain in his impossibly gentle, unhurried motions. Running his thumb from your chin to the corner of your jaw, he tugs, tilting your head and gently tugging your tongue into his mouth.

Warmth blooms through your chest, steady and soft, a pulsar light glowing through the darkness, and you pull him closer.

He pulls away first, if only by virtue of your fervent wish that this moment might never end, nipping lightly your bottom lip in parting. And when the heat radiating off his skin is no longer close enough to warm you in the cool forest night, you slowly open your eyes, hoping that you won't wake to the durasteel ceiling of your bunk glaring down on you.

It's not a dream, Maker bless.

Crosshair stands before you, barely half an arm's length away and already flicking another toothpick between his lips as he smiles, open and soft in the moonlight. Without his persistent scowl, his piercing gaze, he looks so, so achingly young. And, if only for a moment, free of the burdens of war. Just a simple man bathing in the starlight in the jungles of Kashyyyk.

He's beautiful.

"Hi, Cross," you whisper, voice doing little to hide your lingering daze, and you watch, eyes wide with starry wonder, as Crosshair shakes with quiet laughter, eyes closed and shoulders sloped low.

"Hi, y/n," he chuckles. He fixes you with another unreadable look, this one different from the first. It's softer and mellow, vibrant in thrumming waves of bliss, content.

But before you can decide, he reaches down to pick his glove off of the jungle floor, tapping off the dirt on his hip and then, without hesitation, stuffing it into his ammunition belt. There's a brief flash of purplish metal in the pocket he chooses. The balm. You were right.

He catches your astonishment with a soft huff and clips the pocket shut.

"All that teething does dry me out," he teases, but there is only quiet acknowledgement, gracious and still as he extends his ungloved hand to you in the waning moonlight.

You stare at him, dumbstruck.

"The general probably knows we're gone. Come on," Crosshair's smile shifts, assuming a much more familiar smirk to accompany the sharp, snarky lilt that washes over him. He flicks his fingers at you, rolling his toothpick between his teeth. "Be a good girl for me."

There's the Crosshair you know.

"You're insufferable," you mutter, the heat blazing on the tips of your ears as you duck your head. But you reach for him anyways, reveling in the slow slide of your skin over his palm, your fingers finding home intertwined with his.

"Such a good girl," he chuckles, lifting your knuckles to his lips for the barest of chaste, fleeting touches.

"I will make your next hypoderm hurt like hell," you grumble.

"Oh, I look forward to it."

#vietnamese coffee is so good but so strong and for what #did i want to pull this all nighter? perhaps #should i have pulled this all nighter? no #crosshair x reader #bad batch x reader #yaej.writes

[vendettaparker]

Tom Holland x actress reader

Where are there in the same movie together and the cast goes out and Tom and reader really likes eachother maybe smut and after it’s really awkward between them fluff with a sprinkle of angst

Not In Love [T.H]

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: sexual themes, cursing, slight angst, probably some typos

a/n: hi hi! i’m so sorry but i don’t write smut, so i hope it’s ok that i just implied it! i will probably start writing smut in the future but for right now i find it a bit awkward for myself to write. also, sorry that this took so long to get out, i planned for this to only be like 800-1k words, and obvioulsy, it just kept going. hope this works well for you!

                             ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

     (Y/N) (L/N) does not fuck around with co-stars. Ever since you started acting at the young age of eight, you were always told by your mom, manager, and others in the industry to avoid casual, co-star related hook ups. As your career progressed, even through puberty, you remained faithful to your vow. No mingling with co-workers in a non professional manner. Sure, some of your previous co-stars and you remained good friends, even after filming. But the main internal lesson always stayed the same: don’t fuck your co-stars. 

     In your long and glorious career, the only hindrance to your resolve was Tom fucking Holland. His stupid British charm and playful wiles always had your knees buckling and the butterflies in your stomach going haywire. And when he called you darling? In that stupid, yet honey-like accent? You were done for. 

     Tom had the absolute pleasure of working with you in The Devil All The Time. He watched all of your movies and practically grew up watching you on Disney Channel. To say he was simply starstruck would’ve been an understatement, he was enamoured. Practically in love. And when he got to know how kind and sweet you were in real life—not just on screen— he just had to turn on his British charm, just to watch you squirm. 

     Every little comment he made caused your skin to tingle. Your stance on co-star relationships had never been so harshly challenged. He would constantly call you whatever cute pet name he could think of at the time, and unluckily for you, they always seemed to just roll right off his tongue. He even went out of his way to grab you a coffee if he went out to get one, or he’d ask his brother to make sure to bring back your signature order: caramel macchiato with almond milk, two pumps of vanilla, and extra caramel drizzle. How he knew that was your go to order was a mystery to you. 

     It’s not like you didn’t retaliate with your own antics though. Sometimes during his scenes you send him a wink and a smile, just to watch him lose focus. Or maybe you’d tease him about the way he says croissant, but then also say it in the over pronounced way he does, just to bug him. On days when the sexual tension between you two was especially palpable, you’d kiss his cheeks after his scenes and say “good job, babe” or something else to rile him up. So no, you weren’t innocent in this matter at all. 

                   ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

     This build up of tension was bound to boil over at some point. But why the fuck did it have to be during the fucking full cast and director dinner?

     You all arrived at the fancy restaurant, all 40+ of you. You sat next to Eliza and secretly hoped that Sebastian, Harry, or even Robert would take the seat next to you, anyone but Tom. He had been especially touchy that day, and you knew if he continued his ministrations, especially under the cover of a table, your resolve would surely fade away. 

     Unfortunately for you, Tom practically bolted to the seat next to you. You scooted a bit closer to Eliza, who nudged your shoulder playfully. 

     “You should just give in.” She stated, smirking the whole time. “Look at him, poor thing just wants some love and attention.” she giggled, nodding her head to where Tom was whispering with Harry on the other side of him. 

     “Stop it, you’re insufferable.” You rolled your eyes, but still smiled at the joking banter. 

     “(Y/N), hon, he’s one of the hottest celebrities in Hollywood right now, and he wants you.” Eliza pinched your makeup covered cheek, “you’re telling me you don’t wanna just jump in his pants? Do you not find him hot or something?” 

     You smacked her hand away, “No, I do find him attractive, I just d—”

     “Find who attractive, love?” Tom interrupted, smirking at the comment he heard. No, he didn’t know for sure you were talking about him, but one can hope. 

     “Nobody,” you dismissed, “I was just telling Eliza here that I think her dog is cute, right Eliza?” 

     “Sure.” She mumbled, rolling her eyes dramatically, then winking directly at Tom, just out of your view. 

     “Ah, I see.” He chuckled, “Yes, you find her dog attractive then?” 

     “No!” You defended, red faced from being backed into a hole, “I didn’t even use that word; you’re just hearing things.” 

     “Don’t worry, love. I find you absolutely, without a doubt, drop dead gorgeous.” Tom winked, before returning back to his conversation with Harry. 

     Eliza pinched your side, causing you to yelp. “See, I told you!” she whisper-yelled, a knowing smirk dawning her face. 

     “You didn’t tell me shit.” 

     “Ugh, whatever, you’re hopeless.” She sighed, just as the waiter was coming around to take your orders. 

     The majority of the evening went by just as simply and smoothly as possible, it was when dessert arrived that Tom stirred up trouble once again. His damned British charm made him the perfect devil in disguise.  

     “Darling, you have some cake right—” he licked his thumb before drawing it over your bottom lip, slowly, “here.” 

     He smirked at your surprised gaze and wiped the chocolate cake from your rose-painted lip. Never breaking his gaze, he drew his thumb back to his mouth and sucked on the digit, gently humming at the sweet taste of chocolate and strawberry lip gloss that flooded onto his tongue. This bitch. 

     You cleared your throat and ceased your—more than obvious— gawking. He wasn’t going to win this time. You sat quietly, smirking as he watched your every move, simply waiting for retaliation. And it came soon enough, when you knocked your water off the table into his lap, on accident, of course. 

     He jolted up the second the cold water hit his slacks, cursing, yet still keeping that charming smirk on his lips. You immediately started the steady stream of apologies, a faux look of remorse etched on your face. The rest of the cast simply looked on, none the wiser. 

     “Oh Tom! Gosh, I am so sorry.” You stood up as well, taking the napkin from your lap and dabbing his torso where the water splashed up. “I’m just so clumsy, forgive me.” You looked up at him with false serenity in your eyes, but a devilish grin. 

     “No worries, love.” He mused, “I’m just going to go dry off in the washroom. Could use some help though; it’s the least you could do.” The rest of the cast went back to their desserts and conversation, so they failed to notice the hidden glint in Tom’s eyes or the lustful insinuation behind his request. 

     “Sure.” You smiled up at him, determined not to lose this game of cat and mouse. You followed him to the large family restroom in a dimly lit corridor. He opened the door and gestured for you to go in first. What a gentleman, hm?

     He closed the door behind him and locked it before undoing the buttons on his dress shirt and removing it. His toned torso also damp with freezing droplets of ice water. 

     You sucked in a shaky breath, taking in his less than professional, disheveled look. “You gonna come help me, princess?” He reached for paper towels and grabbed a handful, dabbing the wet spot on his lap, right over his crotch. 

     “I—um, sorry,” you snapped out of it. Following his movements, doing the same but to his wet torso. 

     “You’re okay, love.” He looked at you, the close proximity of your bodies creating the most delicious heat in the bathroom. Tom leaned in slightly, just until your noses were brushing against one another. “Though, I’ll admit, the fact that you're not giving me an apology kiss right now, makes this a little less than okay.”

     You didn’t even process your actions completely, the second those words left his mouth yours lips were on his. You held his face in your hands, rough passion seeping through your entire body, and he was just the same. He kissed you fervently, holding your waist with one arm and the back of your head with his opposite hand, tangling his fingers into your hair. The tension and desire that had been building up for almost as long as you’ve known him finally boiling over. 

     Tom gingerly inched his hand up the side of your leg, under your dress. 

     “Wait, wait,” you pulled away, breathlessly, “we need to get back, they’re probably wondering where we are.” 

     Tom was about to concede when a knock rang through the room. 

     “Hey guys,” It was Eliza, “Seb paid for all of us, so we’re gonna head out. Take your time! Oh, and use protection!” You could practically hear the smirk on her face.  

     Tom stopped your little scowl by returning his attention to kissing you, “How lucky are we?” he mused, repositioning his hands, starting to fumble with the zipper of your dress. 

                   ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

     The next Monday at work was hell. You spent the whole weekend internalizing your little rendezvous in the bathroom. Tom texted you nearly fourteen times over the two day break period where you didn’t see each other, and you ignored every single one of them. The first ones were simple ‘hey’s’, ‘hi’s’, and ‘good morning’s’, but they soon progressed to show Tom’s concern over you not responding. The last message being, 

Tom: I hope you know, I don’t regret it, but I’m sorry if you do.

     You didn’t mean to ghost him, but your feelings were so confusing. You liked him and the things he did to you. But you had a code. And maybe the ‘don’t date your co-worker’ was a bit old school and shitty, but you’d been able to stick to it for this long and your work has never been better. Then again, all your previous boyfriends have been assholes; constantly upset over how busy your schedule was. Maybe a fellow actor would be more understanding? 

     The second you arrived to set Harry was on your ass. 

     “(Y/N), hey!” He called to you from the snack table where he was talking with Tom. You gave him a small smile and wave, but proceeded to your makeup chair. He motioned for you to join them, but you waved your hand in dismissal and gave him an apologetic look. Whether or not you regretted your night with Tom, you were absolutely not ready to confront it just yet. However, you didn’t miss the disappointed look on Tom’s face or the way Harry gave his brother a reassuring shoulder squeeze. 

     Harry even came up to you asking how your weekend was and if you were busy or not, no doubt trying to gauge your mood for Tom. You were friends with Harry so you didn’t mind talking to him, but when it was becoming apparent that you weren't giving much away as far as how you were feeling, Harry resorted to more ‘less than subtle’ questions. 

     “So… are you seeing anyone, currently?” He asked, playing with his fingers, the question struck you as extremely off-putting, especially since Harry said it with little to no confidence, like he really didn’t want to be asking that. 

     “Why? Are you trying to ask me out?” You teased. Watching him squirm was almost as fun as when it was Tom. 

     “No! No, I mean— I’m not opposed, you’re very pretty—no wait, I don’t mean it like that, I just—uh, I think you look nice, but not too nice—I’m gonna go.” Harry painfully stuttered out. Cursing under his breath as he walked away, back to where Tom was standing, watching on. These idiots were the most obvious divs in the whole world. 

     After you finished with your stylist, you were ready to start running lines for your scene. You have the majority of your scenes with Tom, so as per usual, you were acting opposite him. As the director was explaining how he wanted the scene to go, Tom kept glancing over at you, raising his eyebrows a bit, obviously wanting to clear the air. 

     The scene went by fine, but it was clear to many of the people around you that you were not on the top of your game today. It even got to the point where the director needed to ask if you needed a break. You said you didn’t and persisted. The scene was finally done to perfection, but it took almost double the amount of time it usually would for you. 

     Tom noticed you struggling the most and couldn’t help but feel guilty. He was quick to give you words of encouragement between takes, but you only responded with a quick ‘thanks’ and moved on. 

     When lunch time came around, the caterers were all set up and prepared on a different part of the lot. You quickly made your way over, running into Eliza on the way. 

     “Oh, hey (Y/N)!” she beamed at you. “Did you finish your scene?”

     “Yeah, are you going to set right now?” 

     “Mhm, I’m shooting the scene at the church with Robert.” 

     “Well, good luck.” You smiled at her, about to move along when she grabbed your wrist. 

     “Wait, did something happen between you and Tom? He’s at the lunch table moping, even Seb is trying to cheer him up.” 

     “Um well no, I mean, maybe? I don’t know, I guess I’ve been avoiding him a bit.” You shrug, now not really wanting to go to lunch, but you know you have to. If you don’t show up then it’d be all too clear to Tom that you were definitely avoiding him. 

     “Oh, well, maybe just talk to him?” Eliza comfortably put a hand on your shoulder before walking away to set. 

     You continued to the lunch set up, seeing club sandwiches, soups, and cupcakes set up. You grabbed what you wanted and went to sit by Tom and everyone else. Yeah, you may have been avoiding him, but you didn’t want to make it that painstakingly obvious. 

     As soon as you sat down, Tom put his arm around you like he always did when you had lunch together. Only this time you stiffened up, not because you hated it, but because the action felt so different after what you both had done, it felt like it meant more. Tom noticed, of course, and removed his arm, frowning. 

     “Can I talk to you, (Y/N/N)?” he whispered to you, the rest of the table in their own little world, too caught up in their interactions to notice yours. 

     “Um, sure,” you mumbled in response, “but maybe when I have free time later? I’m just really hungry right now.” you gave him a small smile, trying to keep up the amicability. 

     He nodded and continued his conversation with Seb, who looked completely uninterested, but still continued responding since he could tell Tom was feeling shitty about something. 

     Later that evening, the entire cast had a one hour break since the next scene they wanted to shoot needed to be done at night and it wasn’t dark yet. That’s when Tom took you to his trailer to talk. 

     “Look, (Y/N), I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but I can’t help but feel like you’re avoiding me.” He stated, once the door was shut and you were already seated on his couch. 

     “I’m not.” 

     “But you are. I can tell. You didn’t talk to me at all today, even when I made a joke that I knew you’d have the perfect come back to.” He sat next to you, but kept more of a distance than usual.

      “I don’t have to talk to you, Tom. You can’t rely on me to keep you entertained.” You rolled your eyes, annoyed that you’d been caught. 

      “That’s not what I’m saying, (Y/N), and you know it.” Tom pointed a finger at you, equally annoyed now. 

     “Fine, so what if I was avoiding you? You’re a grown man, you can handle rejection can’t you?” You spat. The argument was quickly becoming more heated. If there was one thing you hated the most in the world, it was being called out, especially if you knew you were in the wrong. 

     “What the fuck is your problem today?” Tom asked, exasperated at how defensive you got so quickly. 

     “Tom, I’m sorry, but I don’t do this,” you motioned between the two of you, “I don’t do the cliche Hollywood, sleeps around, one night stand scenario, so back off.” 

     “So you regret it.” Tom looked down, trying to keep his emotions at bay. He really did like you, but maybe it was naive of him to assume that sleeping together would open the door to something more. 

     “No, I just—it shouldn’t have happened. I liked it, but I’m not that type of girl. I’m a relationship type of person. I never wanted to be another girl for you to mark down on your list of possible hook ups.” You sighed. Tom wasn’t necessarily notorious for random hookups, but he was a famous actor who just so happened to also be single. It was hard to not go there with your thoughts, so in your mind, you had him pegged. 

     “I’m a relationship person too, though. I wanted all of this. All of you.” Tom inched closer, gingerly taking your hands in his. “I may have gone about it wrong, I should’ve asked you out first or something.” 

     “Tom, stop.” 

     “No, (Y/N), because you’ve got it all wrong. I didn’t flirt with you or spend time with you just to get in your pants.” Tom pulled you closer. “I surrounded myself with you because I wanted you. And I think you want me too.”

     You looked in his eyes, searching for any sign of insincerity, small as it might be, but Tom was being the most sincere he could possibly be. Tom cautiously leaned closer, just wanting one more kiss, even if it was the last. However, you were the one that took the final plunge and pulled him in, kissing him. You both moved together so fluidly, like you were made for each other. 

     When you did pull apart, Tom was the one to break the silence, “So does that mean you like me or…” 

     “I kissed you, didn’t I?” 

#tom holland #tom holland angst #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader angst #tom holland x y/n #tom holland smut #tom holland oneshot #tom holland imagine #tom holland x actress!reader

[favoniuscodex]

forever, forgotten

prompt: The two of you realize that you don’t work as well as you originally think. characters: zhongli/gn!reader, diluc/gn!reader, childe/gn!reader word count: 2.2k warnings: brief injury description, putting in stitches is described, emotional cheating (but not physical or overt), pain and angst a/n: rev up those fryers, because i am sure hungry for some angst! i love pain. i really do. it’s where i feel my writing thrives. but i apologize for making reader an ass in some of these. oops. it’s only human nature :) no beta reader btw, pls send in an ask if you see any errors so i can fix them!

CHILDE/TARTAGLIA

childe has always been one to thrive in the heat of battle, while you’ve been one to thrive literally anywhere else than a fight.

your relationship is kept on the downlow, both because you don’t want the attention of dating a fatui harbinger and childe doesn’t want you getting caught in the crossfire of any battles of his.

why date a man if you can’t be involved in what he loves the most?

he arrives at your doorstep, a sheepish, tired smile on his face, one hand clutching his opposite arm, trying to tamp the blood that seeps into the grey fabric of his clothing.

you meet his gaze with an equally tired one. the sun has yet to rise and you are no longer surprised by your lover’s impromptu visits at your doorstep, nor his condition.

he only shows up when he needs something, after all.

you usher him in without a word and he sits at your dining table, quiet as you stitch up his wounds.

you’re not a nurse. you shouldn’t be so good at piercing a needle through someone’s skin. the thought of it unsettles you a bit, but you withhold these thoughts from the harbinger before you, who always desires to run a sharp blade of water through the necks of his enemies.

the silence between the two of you isn’t tense. rather, the air is dull and laced with fatigue. you know the man before you will fall asleep wordlessly on your couch soon before you navigate to your bedroom and slump over on your mattress. you’ll leave for work in the morning, leaving him to dream away on the couch. by the time you arrive home, he’ll be gone without a trace, except for the stack of mora he leaves on your kitchen table.

your relationship is no more than transactional at this point, but at least those who are paid for the night feel the warm touch of another.

however, tartaglia throws a wrench in your typical night plans. he decides to speak.

“there’s a new guy where you work,” he speaks, lifting his eyes from the needle in your hands to meet yours. “you get along well.” the words of the harbinger are embittered, laced with a childish petulance. but rather than assuage his fears, you furrow your brows and lift the needle up, before puncturing the skin with it once more.

“you sent people to watch me,” you scoff. it doesn’t exit your lips as a question, but rather a statement of ire. childe huffs in response.

“do you wish for me to leave you unguarded?” he says, irritation lacing his tone. nonetheless, he shakes his head slightly, ruffling his brunette hair. “whatever. Coworker.”

“what about him?” you respond, finishing his stitches and scooting your chair backwards to give him space. you finally make eye contact and realize that within his azure eyes, jealousy lies. “he’s a coworker.”

exhaustion is getting to the both of you. childe takes note of your dull-eyed look, a far cry from how you once looked at him. your lips rest in a slight frown and dark circles rest underneath your eyes. you look absolutely exhausted. nonetheless, he pushes onward.

“you two spend quite a bit of time together,” tartaglia remarks.

“if you have someone following me around all the time, then you know i’m not cheating,” you respond, folding your arms and narrowing your eyes at him.

“i know. but maybe it would be easier if you did,” his words soften and reveal a subtle pain behind what he’s saying, but in your fatigued state, the meaning is unclear.

“what the hell does that even mean?” you ask, forcing your voice to stay level. you’re tired, which means you’re more likely to be irritated, but you stay steady. whoever raises their voice first loses the argument, in your eyes.

“maybe it would be better if you were with someone you still loved,” childe finally confesses, yet another layer of defensiveness stripped from his voice, revealing his nerves. you glance up from where you had absentmindedly fixated your gaze on your thighs -- when had you done that? -- and look into his eyes to see the flames of jealousy being overwhelmed with an ocean of sadness. the harbinger had always loved the sea.

“don’t say that,” you murmur. “don’t do this to yourself, tartaglia.”

“ajax,” he whispers, correcting you. you know if he speaks louder, the ocean within his eyes will seep out. “and if you feel that way, then say it.”

“say what?” you ask, rubbing a hand across your eyes.

“say you love me,” ajax whispers. his face is flushed red as he struggles to contain the melancholy emotions he’s tried so hard to lock away.

you go quiet. at one point, you would have screamed the words from the top of the highest liyuean mountains, but now, a lump in your throat prevents them from exiting your mouth to reassure your lover, if you’re even allowed to call him that.

a bitter smile spreads across his face, his eyes growing red. “thank you,” he says, his tone saturated with emotional agony.

you watch him leave. your past screams at you to reach out to him, to beg him to stay, but you watch him collect his things and exit your house silently. as tartaglia closes your front door softly behind him, not bothering to look back at you, you let out a shaky sigh and curl up on your couch.

your head finds itself upon the throw pillow that his blood had leaked onto, but you’re too tired to care. instead, you lie on your side, wondering about what could’ve been before falling into a dreamless sleep.

DILUC

you’re a people person while he’s a lone wolf, a commoner while he was always destined to be a societal elite. in comparison with the man significant enough to receive a gift from the gods, you are nothing.

but he always made you feel differently. he would hold you close on winter nights, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you fell asleep to his heartbeat. but that’s all they were -- nothings.

you saw how he looked at her -- a liyuean diplomat. you had asked him about her before.

“she’s just someone from the past,” diluc had stated, not making eye contact and brushing away your words, an uncharacteristic move for the man who would once recite ballads of your beauty whenever you had expressed an insecurity. “nobody to worry about.” he

but as they leaned in close to each other, whispering to each other as diluc tended the bar, her resting her elbows on the counter, you realized that their relationship had never been platonic and you were a fool to believe they didn’t have a history together.

you stayed positive until the calvary captain noticed your sad looks towards the bar. he simply murmured a few words to you that would confirm your fears.

you didn’t want to play if you were always going to be second place to a woman who showed up every blue moon.

maybe that’s her appeal, you thought to yourself. she’s here infrequently enough that he’s smitten with her. she leaves before she can become mundane, exits the scene before his memories of her can sour.

but the days roll by and you find yourself becoming more and more embittered. diluc stays out late, saying work is keeping him. kaeya tells you otherwise. for a man who has no reason to be involved, you owe your dignity to kaeya for intervening and telling you the truth.

but diluc doesn’t cheat. he just smiles at her. they’re friends, that’s all. but jealousy is the devil’s mistress and you lay in bed with her in your heart as she pries her fingers into your love and rips it apart at the seams.

the liyuean woman leaves. upon her departure, your love for the red-haired man exits the stage as well, leaving behind a neglected husk of a relationship.

diluc smiles at you, none the wiser, approaching you after you finish your shift one evening. this is the first time you’ve spoken in three weeks and he doesn’t even seem to notice.

upon seeing his lips curl upwards at your appearance, the fragments of your heart shatter into dust, for you realize that the way he looked at the liyuean diplomat will never compare to the look he gives you.

he invites you over to his place, saying he misses your company. what is there to miss? you’ve been here all along, watching, waiting, agonizing over him, and yet he acts like he wasn’t the one that caused the two of you to be apart.

“i don’t think it’s the best idea for us to keep being together in such a manner,” you respond as you grab your bag, not making eye contact. “we wouldn’t want people to get the wrong idea.”

diluc watches you leave, stunned by your response. “wait,” he calls out to you, making you turn around. “did i do something wrong?”

“no,” you lie, plastering a fake, soft smile on your face. “i just think i did. it’s nothing you did, i just… don’t think i can keep doing a relationship right now.”

“you’re breaking up with me?” diluc asks, dumbfounded. “here? Now?”

“yes,” you respond, praying your voice doesn’t crack and revealing your sadness. “i’ve found someone else to put first.” myself, you think. you watch as diluc attempts a stoic expression, but you can see the sadness in his eyes.

as the winds of mondstadt swirl around the two of you, blowing the dusty ashes of your heart that had been burnt away by the redhead with the pyro vision into uncharted territories, you can only manage a weak, apologetic smile at seeing him go through the grief you had gone through only a week prior, when you had finally determined that you needed to break up with him.

“i’ll see you around,” you say, before brushing past him and heading home, for once, alone.

ZHONGLI

the two of you sip your tea quietly as zhongli relishes in your company, pleased to see you after you had returned from an adventuring commission.

“i’m glad you returned to liyue harbor safely,” zhongli confesses. his words, much like his actions, are predictable.

you love zhongli, you really do, but after spending two years with him as his lover, you realize that maybe he’s not the one for you.

the geo archon is reliable, loyal, and honest. he’s considerate and kind. you had no reason not to take him as a lover -- he’s the perfect gentleman with a well-paying job. staying with him would provide love and stability.

but, you realized you made a mistake not long after accepting his romantic confession. zhongli was lovely, but he failed to ignite the spark in your heart that most lovers did. he was predictable, too predictable in your case. the geo archon, after millenia of war, anguish, and disconnect from the human race, decided the best life to live as a human was one of routine and peace.

you envied him. you truly did. his happiness was rooted in the status quo, the idea of nothing in his simple life changing. you longed for adventure, for excitement, never having been one to stay in a place for too long.

just as you knew when it was time to move cities, you knew it was time to move on past this relationship in your heart. your love for zhongli had fallen platonic. you were only clinging onto the familiarity zhongli provided as he had not given you a reason to leave.

but maybe zhongli himself was your reason to leave. after all of his service to liyue, he deserves someone who loves him with his whole heart. despite your consistent completion of adventurer’s guild duties, this is one commission that you cannot complete. no matter how hard you wish to, you cannot bring yourself to love the geo archon with your whole heart.

therefore, you realize, you must let him go.

you’re a coward, though. a person who can slay a stonehide lawachurl alone, who has countless battle scars from the most fearsome of challenges, is unable to look their lover in his patient amber eyes and tell them how they feel, for they do not wish to acknowledge the pain they will bring to their gentle lover who would, truly, move mountains for them.

so you write a letter while he’s at work, detailing your sorrows and how you wish for him to find happiness. you’re a coward, you scream at yourself as tears roll down your face, staining the parchment your pen shakily moves across. he deserves better.

he deserves better, which is why you leave the letter in an envelope for him on the table, the ring that normally rests on your left hand on top of it. by the time he reads it, you’ll be on a boat to inazuma, free from the consequences of your heartbreak and your actions.

you never quite forgive yourself for leaving the geo archon behind.

#zhongli's section is the shortest but it's my favorite #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #diluc x reader #childe x reader #zhongli x reader #*writing #*50 follower celebration #*zhongli #*diluc #*childe #*tartaglia #*headcanons #*angst

[fruitcoops]

Could we please have a prequel to the praise kink fic? Because i really want to know why were Sirius and Remus not together and what did Remus send him. I really need context

I was hoping somebody would ask for this!! The aforementioned fic is here for any curious souls (18+ please) and SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for spicy texts (not exactly nudes), and smutty feelings with nothing explicit

The bus went over a bump and Sirius winced as his shins knocked against the back of the seat in front of him, connecting with the metal brace inside. “Fuck.”

“You sure you don’t want to switch?” James asked next to him. Sirius glanced down at the veritable wall of gear and empty snack bags between them, then back to James in disbelief. He shrugged, then set his headphones back over his ears. “Worth a shot.”

“Merde,” Sirius hissed as a pothole nearly took off his kneecap. He gritted his teeth and readjusted, drawing his legs closer to his chest. I want to be home, he thought, allowing himself an internal moment to whine.

He checked his phone—not even ten in the morning. It was a Saturday, so Remus would probably just be rolling out of bed, still sleepy and soft with his hair sticking up like a disgruntled cat’s. Sirius sighed heavily and stared out the window at the small town rolling past in the distance; there was little he wouldn’t give to be back with him instead of on the way to a full week of conferences.

“Why did we have to win the Cup?” he grumbled.

James lifted one side of his headphones. “What?”

“Nothing.”

It wasn’t like they had had much time to themselves before that, either—Sirius’ schedule was packed with interviews that felt more like interrogations, and Remus had been running the PT department mostly by himself while Moody took a well-deserved vacation. They were dead on their feet every night, worked to the bone with little energy left to do more than cuddle and fall asleep. Still, Sirius was grateful for every second of it.

He waited ten more minutes before giving in.

New Message To: Re

Bonjour mon loup <3

There was no immediate response, which made sense, though he was a little bit disappointed. Sirius closed his eyes and tried to make himself relax; it would be at least another six hours before they arrived at their destination, and the bad weather gathering overhead didn’t bode well for quick travel.

His phone buzzed gently and he scrambled to answer. Don’t be Reg, don’t be Reg, don’t be Reg—

New Message From: Re

Morning love!

Thanks for the bagels <3

“Fuck yes,” Sirius said under his breath. The bagels had been a last-minute decision as he crept through the house in the early hours of the morning after carefully detaching himself from Remus with a final half-asleep farewell kiss. There was no guarantee he would remember breakfast with everything going on, so Sirius figured it was a safe bet to toast them and leave them on the countertop before heading out.

Message To: Re

Pas de problem

Sleep well?

Message From: Re

Decent

Missed you :(

Sirius rested his temple against the cold window with a soft sound. He hated leaving at different times, but that was just how their life worked at the moment.

Message To: Re

Missed you too <3

Three small dots appeared for a long moment before vanishing without a trace just as his heart rate began picking up. Where’d you go? he almost wondered aloud. Something bumped his arm and James raised a quizzical brow. “Loops,” Sirius said by way of explanation.

“I figured. He okay?”

“I think so? He just…disappeared on me.” Sirius was well-aware of how plaintive he sounded—James’ teasing smile was completely unnecessary.

“Aw, Cap,” he laughed, reaching over to mess with his beanie until Sirius slapped his hand away. “It’s alright, buddy, it’s just a couple days.”

Sirius jammed his hat back on his head and flicked James on the unprotected bit of his ear, making him yelp. “Fuck off, I know you’ll be a mess as soon as Lily FaceTimes with my godson.”

“He has a name, you know.”

“Sorry. You’ll be a mess as soon as she FaceTimes with Pocket Pots, who happens to be my godson.”

James rolled his eyes. “I regret giving you that title.”

“Nah, you don’t.”

As if on cue, his phone lit up again; Sirius ignored James’ snickering as he quickly unlocked it.

New Message From: Re

When will you be at the hotel?

“That’s it?” he muttered.

Message To: Re

That was a lot of typing for one sentence

6-7 hrs, if the weather holds

Why?

Message From: Re

Sorry lmao Reg came in for a bit

Just curious :) Keep me updated?

Message To: Re

Will do <3

Tell Reg he needs to wash his sheets. It’s been over a month.

A small thumbs-up emoji was his only answer, and he tried not to be too bummed. Remus liked having things to do; sitting there and texting Sirius while he slowly got further and further away was probably not his preferred way to spend a morning. With a sigh that was likely a bit too dramatic for the situation he was in, Sirius faced the window once more and buckled in for a long ride.

He chatted off and on with the others when they stopped for lunch, but everyone was exhausted from the combination of a packed week and an early morning. Even Talker stayed fairly quiet, and James kept his headphones on for most of the trip.

Sirius finally succumbed to his tiredness and put some music on, then dozed for an hour or three while they traveled through yet another field. A few halfhearted calls of “cows” made their way around the bus, though nobody seemed particularly enthused about being packed in with double the gear due to a broken storage compartment. Donuts and gas station coffee could only do so much.

“Just crossed the state border,” Arthur called from the front of the bus as Sirius tried to ignore the cramping in his thighs. Three hours. Just three more.

His music was interrupted by a soft jingle alert and he pulled his phone out, hoping against hope that Regulus hadn’t caused a fire anywhere. It was unlikely given the…well, everything about him, but with Sirius’ luck it could happen.

New Message From: Re

How far?

Message To: Re

About 3 hrs. Ran into some detours

Good day?

Remus remained silent on the other end and Sirius frowned. That was rather rude, and highly unusual. Between the two of them, Remus was the one who kept conversations going past the initial question to be answered.

Message From: Re

Attachment: 1 Image

Love you! Call me when you get there : )

Sirius opened the attachment and almost threw his phone in utter shock. Skin. Bare skin everywhere, its smooth edges broken up only by tight black fabric that may as well have been painted onto the curve of Remus’ ass. “Oh my god,” he whimpered, voice barely audible even to his own ears. It had been taken in their bedroom mirror; Remus looked over his shoulder, and Sirius caught the corner of a devious smirk on his lips. “Oh, you fucker.”

Message From: Re

Thoughts? They’re cozy

Message To: Re

Did you miss the part where I said three (3) hours

Message From: Re

Nope

Second one is a guessing game and u get a prize if u get it right : )

The second photograph was more zoomed-in than the first and Sirius wracked his brain, running through his mental catalogue of Remus’ body to figure out the answer. It did absolutely nothing to calm the situation in his pants.

He had no idea what the promised prize was, but anticipation made his hands shake slightly as he carefully scanned the picture. The shadows caught it at an odd angle—it wasn’t the steady slopes of his face or neck, nor was it the strong curve of a shoulder. Not enough freckles, either, he thought.

A lightbulb lit in the back of his mind.

Message To: Re

Right hip

Another thought connected half a second later.

Holy fuck you took them off

Is that my prize?

Re?

Remus Lupin I swear to god

TEXT ME BACK

Message From: Re

Bingo!

Christ you’re impatient, I was gone for like 2 mins

He chanced a look toward Pots, whose head lolled to the side as he snored.

Message To: Re

Hey quick question why are you like this

It’s a good thing Pots is out cold bc this bus is too small to hide anything

Message From: Re

Haha sux to be you

Sirius’ cheeks heated with a whole cocktail of different emotions as he furiously typed a response.

Message To: Re

‘Sux to be you’???

Are you 13 yrs old????

Message From: Re

Do you want your prize or not u horndog

Message To: Re

YOU MADE ME THIS WAY

He took a deep breath through his nose and flexed his fingers.

Yes please

A simple smiley face—Sirius would never see those things the same—popped up, followed by an audio file. He triple-checked that his headphones were plugged in before tapping ‘play’ with an unsteady thumb.

His face went very, very hot before all the blood went straight to his groin and he closed his eyes, covering his mouth with his hand. Breathy sounds came through the heavy earphones, a little more crackly than they would be in-person; he heard Remus’ gasp catch in his throat and crossed his legs as best he could in the too-small seat, torn between thanking and cursing any higher power. He could practically see Remus’ face in his mind’s eye as the noises continued, intermixed with fragments of desperate words.

The file came to an end after what felt like the blink of an eye and a hundred years, and Sirius did not look away from the violently red seat cushion in front of him for a long moment as his brain came back online. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so turned on.

He took a few deep breaths, though it did nothing to erase the poorly-muffled whines that still rang between his ears like church bells. Sirius huffed and turned to grab his waterbottle out of his duffel, only to make direct eye contact with Finn across the aisle.

Sirius froze.

Finn grinned.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he hissed, too low to wake James but just loud enough to carry over the four feet separating them. Finn’s smile widened. “Stop it. Stop it right now.”

“How’s Loops?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“That good, huh?”

“O’Hara, I swear to god—”

“Oh, is Cap spilling secrets?” Kasey asked, poking his head over the back of the seat.

Finn opened his mouth, but the force of Sirius’ glare must have been enough to at least intimidate him a little, because he shook his head. The smug Cheshire grin remained. “Nah, just having a chat about our plans when we get home.”

Kasey groaned. “You’re a lucky man, O’Hara. Both your people get to come with you. Nat sent me a promise, like, twenty minutes ago and I can’t stop thinking about it. I won’t be available tonight from six to eight if anyone was wondering.”

“Did she really?” Finn looked back to Sirius, who bit the inside of his cheek and tried to keep his cool. Two and a half hours, and then he would be safe. Just two and a half more hours.

[thetriggeredhappy]

in the dadspy au, what if jeremy was just going to be an assistant/cook/janitor at the base while his dad was being the mercenary (since spy didnt want him to follow the "career" but didnt want to be separated from him), but then jeremy turned out to be even better than the hired scout so they promote him to that position and spy is not happy with this at all

ok i was gonna put this in the queue to post but im impatient because im happy with this one. only thing i didnt have was spy being upset by this development

(warnings for canon-typical violence, discussion of mercenary-type things, paranoia, alcohol, and exactly one proper fight scene. consider this pg-13)

-

“Would you prefer the good news first, or the bad news?” Dad asked.

Jeremy looked up at him from where he’d snatched up the sunday comics from his dad’s newspaper and was doodling little hats on the characters while they waited for their food to arrive. “Uh,” he said, “good news first.”

“Alright. The good news is, do you remember that line I’ve been tailing? The one in New Mexico?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jeremy said, then nodded a little more confidently. “Immunity, safehouse, somethin’ like that, right?”

“...Something like that,” Dad agreed carefully, and that made him raise an eyebrow. “It went well, and I think there’s the very real possibility that I’ve all but closed the deal, all they want now is an interview.”

“...Interview, singular,” Jeremy said slowly.

“That’s where the bad news begins. Unfortunately... merde, how to phrase this?” He drew a hand down his face. “They’re fully willing to hire me on, but this is a more... corporate affair than I’m used to. They have rules, stipulations. Long story short, they will not hire you as a mercenary on the basis of your age.”

Jeremy tensed. “What?” he demanded. “That’s stupid, I’m old enough to drive and buy guns and whatever the hell else.”

“But not rent a car, at least in many places in the United States.”

“But—“ he started, and remembered they were in public, and lowered his voice to a hiss, leaning in. “We’re hired killers, thieves, criminals. Do they really think we’re above having fakes? False documentation?”

“Actually, that is one of their requirements,” Dad said dryly, taking a paper from his jacket and consulting it. “I’m not happy about it either, mon lapin, but those are their rules. Already they have slightly bent them for one individual, and already I am on thin ice. But I may have a way to manage this.”

“Yeah?” Jeremy asked, nervous now.

“I know the woman responsible for new hires and managing the team I’ve applied for. She owes me a favor—a fairly hefty one. When I go in for the interview, one of my demands will include you being hired on, not as a mercenary, but for... for custodial purposes, something like that. Cook, janitor, security guard, secretary—whatever job there is that needs doing there, and I am sure that there will be one. Something to allow you to live there. Pay will likely be her stipulation, and the play I hope to make is that really, you’re overqualified for the position and she’s lucky to have someone so competent available, and in the worst case scenario, the pay is still good enough even for just one of us that we will not cut too deeply into the savings.”

The savings. That made Scout blink, because they only ever brought up the savings when—

“You think this could be it?” he asked quietly. “Like, it it?”

A hard exhale, and he leaned his cheek on his hand. “Potentially,” he finally said. “I don’t want to get your hopes up, but the job promises a variety of things. Medical attention available, extremely low levels of danger, and most of all, confidentiality. The only people who will know any name we give them would be the woman in charge of hiring us and their singular medical professional. There is no mode of communication to or from the compound outside of emergency lines to the organization and a single secure payphone located two miles away, there is no civilization within a twenty-five minute drive minimum, and this operation has been going long enough that the local authorities have long since grown used to being paid off, and likely don’t even remember what for anymore. I cash in a few valuable favors and ask this employer to turn a blind eye, we’d have somewhere remote and secure to spend our time after our deaths are faked and once the contract is over, we can start over. No ties to the past.”

“Freedom,” Jeremy marveled.

Silence for a few seconds, broken only by the quiet chatter of the rest of the diner. “I want to warn you, this work may not be glamorous. It may not even be particularly easy. I’m giving you the option of saying no,” Dad said.

“What?! Yes, hell yes, are you joking? To get us to living like normal people? Steady work? Livin’ in one place? Count me in!” he laughed.

“What if the job is something you won’t enjoy? Long hours, boring work?” Dad asked, entirely serious.

“I’m still on board.”

“What if the other people working there are rude to you? Disrespectful?”

“Well most of the people I meet through our job now try to kill us, so really it’s an upgrade.”

“What if there’s no diner nearby?” he asked, and there was a glint of humor in his eye.

“Damn, sorry, that’s the dealbreaker,” he joked right back, and that made him snort, shake his head, greet the waitress as she came back with their coffee and soda and then informed them that their food would be out shortly.

“I’ll ask,” was what Dad said once she was gone again, and that was that, and they started driving to New Mexico two nights later.

-

“—A warm welcome to our two newest recruits. This is the Spy, and this is the Guard.”

“Guard?” asked one of the men at the table, his accent thick and distinctly Russian. It made Jeremy tense slightly, but he didn’t let it show.

“Night Guard,” Jeremy answered, voice clipped.

“He’s not technically hired on as a mercenary like you all, he won’t be joining you on missions,” the short woman apparently named Miss Pauling (Jeremy was fairly sure it was a fake name) said, hands folded in front of her neatly. “He’s here to work security. Keep an eye out during the night, filter through the camera footage, handle the archiving, things like that.”

“We’re hiring on a civvie now?” asked another man, thick Scottish accent a little harder to digest than the eyepatch and the grenade he was in the process of fiddling with the internal mechanisms of.

“He’s combat ready, and will still be armed. His job is to essentially make sure you’re all safe enough to sleep through the night,” Miss Pauling said.

“I’m not some chump,” Jeremy agreed. “I know my stuff.”

“How old is he?” another man asked, this one in a hardhat with a heavy drawl, looking concerned.

“Twenty, for your information,” Jeremy said, a little sharply, eyes narrowed.

“If you have any other questions, there’ll be time later on. For now, I do need to show our two newest recruits where they’ll be staying,” Miss Pauling cut in.

There was an audible scoff from one of the men at the table, a dramatic rolling of eyes. Jeremy glared at him. He unfolded and refolded his extremely tattoo’d tree-trunk-like arms, tugging the visor of his hat between. “Sorry,” he said, accent thick and distinctly Californian. “I just don’t have the most trust for some scrawny kid in slacks and creep in a ski mask.”

“Scout, don’t start,” Miss Pauling warned.

“Just saying,” this man, apparently called Scout, muttered under his breath regardless.

“Don’t,” she said again, more firmly, and ignored the second eye roll she got for the trouble. “If you two would follow me.”

And they were shown around the base, and Jeremy in particular was shown into a room stuck behind three locked doors, where he found camera feeds and recording equipment. She gave him a basic overview and a thick packet of instructions and policies labelled ‘highly classified’ and a phone number to call if he had any further questions, and a set of hours that were apparently meant to become the new standard for him (with the quiet addendum that if he finished early that was alright, and that technically he could turn in early if two or more members of the team were already awake for the day and he was caught up on the archiving of old tapes).

Then he was left to “get used to the equipment”, which he assumed meant his dad was getting a similar rundown of his job, and it took a pretty quick glance through the packet to understand that clearly this place ran on an extremely secretive and closely monitored series of systems. In the packet, between the sections on camera maintenance and operation hours, were a few sheets detailing what were apparently the movement patterns of the various members of the team, including frequented locations and previously recorded large-scale infractions (mostly on the part of the Soldier, the Medic, the Scout, and one from the Demoman).

He wasn’t the one with the title Spy, but fuck, it seemed like he might as well have it. His entire job wasn’t even necessarily to keep the team safe overnight—he was just meant to watch all of them to make sure nobody was anywhere or doing anything out of the ordinary.

The next time he saw his dad, waiting outside the infirmary to get some sort of physical evaluation, his face was arranged carefully enough that he could tell he’d figured out something was up, too.

“Got your job assignments?” he asked quietly in French, glancing towards the door into the infirmary.

A nod, a glance. “I’m intrigued by the methods used in employee evaluation,” he deadpanned. “Especially the fact that apparently, they’re willing to assign employees for the explicit task of doing them.”

“How often?”

“Weekly.”

“Thorough,” Jeremy deadpanned, and glanced towards the hall at the distant sound of laughter, echoing from somewhere else on the base. “That’s basically mine too.”

There was a long silence, and when Jeremy looked back over, his dad was giving him an almost expectant look, waiting. All he had to offer him was a shrug, which was returned after a moment with a vague shake of the head. “I don’t believe it will be a problem,” his dad said simply. “Not for us, at the very least.”

Jeremy nodded. “Yeah. Uh, anyways, good luck with the… physical, or whatever,” he said, and received a pat on the shoulder before he walked back off down the hall, hoping to figure out what exactly he was supposed to do with an entire room all to himself. He’d almost never had one before.

-

He was used to time changes and jet lag, to needing to switch his sleep schedule on the regular, but the switch to a straight up night shift was a rough one.

His nine-to-five was actually a ten-to-six, as in 10 PM through 6 AM. This meant that, assuming he managed to get his schedule in order, he’d be able to join in on the team dinners if he woke up early and could eat breakfast with them before he went to bed.

Very quickly he realized that going to dinner and breakfast with the team was going to become a staple part of his routine, because it didn’t take long before he began to feel extremely lonely all of the time. In a dark little room, everyone else asleep, scrubbing through tapes from during the day while half keeping an eye on the live feed from around the base that never showed much of anything, it was brutal. It was suffocating.

It was easy, at least. It didn’t take long before he got efficient at it and could start zoning out, and it wasn’t like he was under much pressure. His was the only room without any cameras in it. Security risk, apparently. 
And to be honest, what small amount he and Dad interacted with mercenaries and other criminal types, Jeremy didn’t really tend to like them much. A lot of them were loud and rude and had the potential to turn around and try and kill them whenever they felt like it. He didn’t expect that he’d like the team as much as he did. He especially didn’t expect to like them so much without ever really talking to them.

But watching the camera feeds from throughout the day, seeing what they were up to, they were just... nice people. Soldier out by the dumpsters practicing rocket jumps and wrangling raccoons and apparently trying to learn how to spin a rifle, Pyro’s regular minor explosions in the kitchen while cooking and the surprised and frantic way they cleaned it up every time, the Demoman’s tendency to whistle wherever he went, watching through the feed as they all played cards and argued and jostled each other. They all seemed really nice. Really cool. Really dorky, too, but mostly just really nice and really cool.

And there were a few of them he was less sure about—he couldn’t get eyes on the Medic most of the time, what with the one camera in the Medbay being tilted down at an angle that made it hard to see much of anything but the occasional bird (probably by those same birds). The Heavy tended to just sit and read, and was pretty much silent most of the time otherwise. The Scout tended to leave the base pretty often. And the Sniper didn’t even live on base, he had a van outside that he could only occasionally see movement in when he squinted at the far edge of the camera leading outside. But even then, Heavy and Sniper mostly just seemed quiet, and Medic just seemed busy, and the Scout just seemed like a little bit of a dickhead.

But then one day when Jeremy was at breakfast the Heavy caught him leaning to try to get a look at the cover of the book he was reading, and he blurted that he was just wondering what book was so great that he’d stay up until like four in the morning reading, and then the entire team was gawking at him and asking questions and insisting that it was insane that there was someone actually watching all those cameras, and he shrugged and said there was always supposed to be someone watching the tapes back it was just usually some office worker type a hundred miles away. And they seemed almost... upset with him. And maybe that was fair, it wasn’t like he ever talked to any of them much, mostly he just spent breakfast and dinner half-asleep and listening to their chatter. And Demoman admitted that he’d honestly assumed that Jeremy slept his entire shift, he just always looked so tired at breakfast. There was almost this discomfort. This distrust.

And so, now that the jig was up, he made it a point to say some things to certain members of the team. To tell the Medic that his camera was tilted down so that he couldn’t see most of the room, and to very pointedly say that it was weird how that happened and that he didn’t know why they set it up like that in the first place, but it was really none of his business. Made it a point to warn the Engineer in the morning that the previous night, Soldier had been doing something in the fridge for a while, and to maybe check the labels before he made breakfast. Made it a point to tell the Demoman that the camera in his workshop was right in plain sight, and that if he moved one of his blackboards an inch or two to the left, it would obscure the room a pretty hefty amount. Made it a point to tell the Sniper that the camera on the rooftop seemed to be glitching out, and it’d just sort of lost the tapes of the previous two nights, and that it was really unfortunate since for all he knew there might have been someone ignoring the signs about there being no personnel allowed up there.

In return, he found that Pyro would sometimes make little sparkly notes with smiley faces on them and stick them to the door to the security room. That Sniper started tipping his hat at the camera above the door into the base from the garage. That on occasional drinking nights, the team would suddenly turn and start waving at the camera, laughing the whole way. On one night in particular he could hear through the low-quality and tinny speakers that they were trying to cajole him into leaving the security room for a while to join them for cards, and god, but he wanted to.

And he noticed more things. Soldier walking with a slight limp some days when rocket jumps had rough landings. Being able to count the doves in the infirmary and even tell them apart to some extent through blurry close-ups. The Engineer making it a point to sweep really regularly regardless of what project he was working on.

And then he noticed a weird thing.

It took him a long time to get used to the patterns of hallways, the cameras not really lined up linearly after a while, too many branching paths. He learned to follow progress, to flick from one camera to the next as someone walked around corners. And for a while he thought maybe he wasn’t very good at it.

Until he realized two things. First of all, that in a hallway where he knew there were five doors, he could only see four—apparently the door to Pyro’s room was just barely out of sight of the camera. He only figured it out because one day it swung open wide enough to almost bang against the wall.

And then, when he realized there was somehow that massive blindspot, that there was a corner with a blindspot too. One where that Scout kept disappearing.

He watched a few more times to make sure, and yep. He’d see the Engineer walking around the corner, flick to the next screen, and there he was, continuing down the hallway. And then later that same day, the Scout, walking, and flick to the next camera, and he wasn’t there.

One of the worse parts of the job was that he never got to see Dad anymore, never got to just sort of hang out the way they did all the time when he was growing up, and he knew he would miss it but he didn’t know how much. And he found it was even worse when he had something important to say, doubly so when he had something important to say but no idea if it was actually important.

He tried to bring it up casually, in the like ten minutes of time he ever got alone to talk to Dad. Dad was fighting the kettle trying to make some tea and he was trying to stay awake long enough to figure out how he was going to say this.

“Uh,” he said, and Dad looked at him. “So, uh, what’s the read you’re getting on that Scout guy?”

“Lazy,” Dad shrugged, looked back at the kettle. “Arrogant. He seems to care very little about doing his job correctly and has horrible communication on the field.”

“Right, right,” he nodded, fought a yawn down. “Uh. So like, kind of a dickhead.”

“Indeed,” Dad said, nodding vaguely.

“So uhhh... not the best.”

“Where are you going with this?” Dad asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

“I, I dunno, the guy just likes hanging out in this one blindspot in the cameras, and it’s kinda freaking me out,” Jeremy said, scratching at the back of his neck.

Dad frowned. “Strange. I wasn’t aware that there were any blindspots in the cameras.”

“There’s only a few, and only for pretty small spaces I think? But apparently he just likes hanging out in one of them.” Jeremy scuffed his shoe on the ground, glancing over as voices started echoing down the hall towards them. “Just thought it was weird.”

“I’ll look into it,” Dad muttered, voice quiet, and then raised it again slightly. “I refuse to keep up with sports.”

“C’mon,” Jeremy said, knowing this game well, changing subjects into something more normal as people entered earshot. “I’m not even asking you to keep up with sports, I’m just saying, I’d kill to go to a baseball game right about now.”

“The American Pasttime!” Soldier called from the room over.

“Exactly,” Jeremy agreed, nodding at Soldier as he also entered the kitchen, a half-asleep Demoman in tow.

“Any ghosties or ghoulies on the cameras last night, lad?” Demo had enough energy to ask, blinking blearily at the contents of the fridge.

“Oh, a billion,” Jeremy said.

“Guard!” Soldier barked, the most awake person in the room. “Should these ghost-ghouls appear again, don’t be afraid to point me in their direction! I have significant experience with them already and do not fear the likes of them!”

“Yeah sure,” Jeremy shrugged.

“You’re a champion, Guard,” Demo said with what was either a really disoriented blink or a wink, slugging him on the shoulder and wandering back out into the common room with the entire carton of milk in his other hand. Jeremy gave him a mock-salute that Soldier copied with absolute conviction. He and Dad shared a glance after the two of them left, and Jeremy was the first one to break, snickering under his breath.

“I’ll look into it,” Dad said, and also left the kitchen, and Jeremy nodded and started trying to remember what else he’d been planning on doing before bed.

-

“So,” Dad said a few days later, materializing next to Jeremy when he was in the middle of his jog and making him almost jump out of his skin, skidding to a stop.

“You’re enjoying that new watch way too much,” Jeremy panted, out of breath and still very much startled.

“Maybe,” Dad said, and he was smiling. “But as I was saying.”

“All you said was ‘so’,” Jeremy pointed out, giving him a look.

“There’s a juvenile joke here about how I’m your father and so of course I say ‘so’, but if you wouldn’t mind it, I did have something important to say, mon lapin,” Dad replied, and Jeremy rolled his eyes hard at the horrible joke and cheesy name, fighting back a smile of his own.

“Go for it,” he said, and took the opportunity to bend and tighten his shoelaces.

“So. Regarding that Scout and his habits. You mentioned he spends time in blind spots of the cameras, oui?” Dad asked.

“Yeah. Keeps, uh, I guess he keeps getting infractions for going off base too much, too. I’ve logged him leaving like three times this week already,” Jeremy nodded.

“Indeed. Well, considering how new we are to the team, I did not want to jump to conclusions, and so contacted Miss Pauling and asked on your behalf for any older records, and I found out something very... intriguing.”

Jeremy looked up at him, blinking. ‘Intriguing’, historically, had always been a very, very bad thing.

“Apparently, it has been two years since they last had a Guard situated on base. The previous one was a much older gentleman, retired from being a full member of the team due to health complications but not entirely ready to part with the company. The previous guard was somewhat strict, and the Scout—the same as we have now—very much disliked the man. He continued acquiring near-constant infractions under the man’s watch for leaving when he was not meant to, so much so that the previous Guard proposed enstating trackers on the team when they went off-base. And before this policy could take hold, the previous Guard left the base one day and did not return, and finally was found dead a state over, one month later.”

Jeremy blinked once, twice. “Holy shit,” he said, and took note of the wary look on his face. “Okay. So we’re thinkin’ the same thing, right?”

“I would assume so. And…” Dad hesitated, moved to fidget with his cufflinks. “And I would not be particularly concerned about this, as I’m confident that you wouldn’t have gotten his attention from what you’ve been up to lately, and therefore wouldn’t be in danger yet should history attempt to repeat itself, but… he’s already taken a disliking to you.”

“What?” he asked, eyebrows shooting up.

“I believe it’s something as simple as some sort of shallow jealousy. Another American on the team, also relatively young, filling the position of someone he disliked previously. He regularly complains about the fact that you don’t need to go do the same job as the rest of us.” Dad shrugged, glanced over at him. “That, combined with the fact that you have somewhat conflicting duties, well, he tends to rather tetchy. He claims that considering he’s meant to be the first line of defense, they shouldn’t also need a guard at night.”

Jeremy had a number of opinions about that, but he stuck to the most relevant ones. “I really don’t like this guy,” he said. “Might be, uh. Worth keeping an eye on.”

“Agreed.” Dad glanced back over his shoulder towards the base, then at his watch. “Enjoy the rest of your run. Don’t forget to eat.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, hit the bricks already, old man,” Jeremy scoffed, waving him off, and Dad rolled his eyes, disappearing again in a cloud of smoke. “You’re gonna be using that thing all the damn time now, aren’t you?”

“Oui,” came a voice from nowhere, and Jeremy huffed a laugh, meandering his way back into the rest of his jog.

-

Jeremy hummed along to the radio, flicking between cameras on autopilot and wondering when exactly to take his lunch break.

He didn’t face the clock or anything, so he wasn’t sure, but he thought he had a pretty solid rhythm at that point. Click, click, click, between the camera to the road, the camera to the main entrance, and the camera in the hall towards the middle of the building, for about one second each. At just about any time after 11 or 11:30, those were the only three in real time that he needed to keep an eye on, mostly for people coming back late from bar hopping or if Miss Pauling was rolling in on a delivery. All the other cameras he could see out of the corner of his eye, and any movement he’d pick up on pretty quick, even if it was usually just the doves fluttering on the camera to the Medbay. After he cycled through those (and there was almost never anything there) he’d cycle back through to the tape he had in, put it on high speed, and watch it for about two or three minutes, get through a chunk of that time. Mostly he’d just be making sure nobody had been in the base while the team was away ni o(which indeed there never was), so there wasn’t much of a reason to take it off high speed, and the second part of the night would be watching the tapes for the time the team was back on base.

Movement on a camera made him click the pause, and he glanced off to the side. One of the doves had shuffled to face the other direction. He rolled his eyes, looking back at the bigger monitor again and pressing play.

The second half of the night was a little more interesting. He just had to look at the tapes for the time the team was there, check for discrepancies that might point to Dad messing with the disguise technology off-the-clock or the enemy Spy having infiltrated. For the most part things were straightforward, but he at least got to see his teammates up to funny things sometimes. Pyro’s antics were usually entertaining. Soldier he only caught some of, on the basis of him often walking off out of range of the cameras when he went on his excursions. Demo was funny sometimes. Honestly, just seeing the Sniper anywhere but as a fuzzy distant shape was interesting.

Movement on a camera. Same dove. He ignored it. Click, click, click, all three cameras clear, back to the fast-forward of the same empty hallway as before.

He really needed to figure something out, for the Scout. Maybe he and Dad were just being paranoid. It would be insane for him to try to outright kill anyone who inconvenienced him, not to mention reckless, and stupid to boot. Acting like that in their line of work would make him a lot of enemies extremely quickly. It would make more sense for the old Guard disappearing to be unrelated, to be honest.

Yeah. Hell, he barely knew the guy, and here he was assuming he’d straight up whacked a guy for getting a little too on his case about something. Maybe they were wrong.

Movement on a camera. He glanced over and froze outright.

It took him five seconds to come to his senses enough to pause the playback on his screen.

Figures. Shapes. Not at the front entrance, in the hallway, there next to the back way, by the garage. At least three, moving carefully, hard to make out in the darkness.

Okay. Okay, don’t panic, focus.

Jeremy ran through a few things in his head. He’d already done a headcount, the only people he wasn’t sure about were the Sniper and the Medic, but he hadn’t seen the Medic in any of the hallways out of the infirmary. Three figures were two too many to be any of the team, and besides that, they didn’t look like the Medic. Too short to be the Sniper, moving differently. Different clothes.

Three people. He hopped up, rushed over to the wall, yanked open the panel he had there. Three buttons, which he needed to hit in order. The first would send an alert to Miss Pauling, the second to whoever was assigned to be on alert that night, the third would set off the alarm.

He hit the first, hit the second, and hesitated on the third.

Okay. Technically if he didn’t hit that third button, he’d be breaking protocol, which was, according to the manual, ‘grounds for termination’. He was pretty sure that meant a long swim with some concrete shoes. And it was apparently recorded every time he hit these buttons, so they could deduct from his pay on false alerts. So they’d know if he didn’t hit this third button. He needed to think fast.

This was a different button than the alert button. The alert was more subtle, set for just one person. The alarm was throughout the entire base, over every loudspeaker. Louder than a fire alarm. If he hit this one, these intruders would hear that there was an alarm going off. Anyone smart would book it, high tail it the hell out of there. But he still didn’t know where they came from.

There hadn’t been movement on any of the screens, and he looked at the camera feed facing the road already, a few times even. He should’ve seen them. And if they found their way in once, they could do it again.

If he didn’t hit the button, on the other hand, whoever was on alert would wake up and wonder why they’d gotten an alert but the alarm wasn’t going off. If they were clever, which they probably were if they’d lasted this long, they’d come to the security room to see what was up and they could work from there.

He closed the panel again and moved to wait.

A minute later, still no movement from the hallway where most of the rooms were. That was fine, they’d just woken up, and probably needed to get dressed and grab their guns.

Another minute later, no movement, which was fair, they just needed a second to get their bearings. The intruders, meanwhile, were just lurking, slowly making their way down the hall.

Another minute later, no movement, and he opened the panel to press the button again before he continued waiting. Maybe they didn’t hear him the first time.

Another minute later and he took to standing next to the panel, mashing the button rapidly, eyes on the screen where the intruders were passing the kitchen, starting to get pretty far into the building.

Another minute later and he stomped his way into his sneakers, grabbing his flashlight and gun and guard cap from where they were hung on the wall. “Fine, I’ll fucking do it myself,” he grumbled, and carefully shouldered open the door, taking one last glance at the camera before he shut the door behind himself.

He kept his footsteps quiet, squinting into the darkness, waiting for his eyes to finish adjusting as he crept towards where he’d last seen the figures. It was near-silent in the base at night except for the distant, quiet hum of generators and occasional shift of plumbing. It was getting more and more familiar, and he found himself able to tune it out somewhat, instead listening intently for footsteps besides his own, making sure to click the safety off his gun while he was still alone and not when he was close to whoever had decided to break in.

Okay. Dad did this all the time. He could handle this.

He slowed as he approached the corner near the kitchen, peering around as carefully as he could, tugging down the brim of his cap to try and hide any potential shine from his eyes. He caught sight of a vague shape standing near the doorway, hesitating before it crept inside, into the common area.

Not ideal, on the basis of that being their goddamn kitchen, but at least there would be cover.

By the time he managed to sneak up to the doorway, he could make out the sound of vague whispering. It was far enough that it gave him the boldness to peer into the room, and just slightly lit by the glow of the clock on the oven he could see two shapes there in the kitchen, the third lingering nearer to him, there by the table.

Jeremy was only just starting to make a plan, relieved to have the jump on them, when there was the distant sound of a generator humming to life, and all the figures stopped, paused for a moment.

“Fucking spooky here,” one whispered, barely audible.

“Calm down,” another whispered. “What, scared of ghosts?”

Jeremy inhaled, exhaled, shifted onto the balls of his feet and started creeping a little further into the room. If he could just get all three of them to one side, so he wouldn’t need to pivot so much…

“You don’t know, maybe there’s ghosts here,” the first protested, and swore quietly at what sounded like their winging their elbow against the corner of the tale, and Jeremy tried to stick near the wall, managed to creep half-behind one of the chairs, trying to keep his silhouette indistinct. “These guys kill people.”

“So do we,” the third mumbled, moving out of sight in the kitchen, and Jeremy bit down on a swear, starting to inch behind the couch. “Don’t be a coward. And stop making so much noise.”

“You can’t shoot a ghost,” the first pointed out, moving a bit closer to the kitchen, giving the table a wide berth now. “Or punch it.”

“I can try,” the second said, and stopped at the sound of a rustle.

Jeremy held his breath, weight half-balanced against where he’d tried to step, newspaper trapped beneath his foot.

“That one wasn’t me,” the first whispered. There was another, more significant rustle throughout the room, and Jeremy could see a glint as the intruders drew their weapons.

Jeremy inhaled, exhaled, and just barely managed not to swear out loud.

The first one was the closest by, lingering beside the arm of the couch Jeremy was crouched in the shadow of. “Do they have a cat here?” they asked, voice quiet.

The second was approaching into the main room more carefully. From the sound of the footsteps, trying to keep a shoulder closer to the wall, clearly paying more attention to the door. “Are you stupid or something?” was the reply, voice also quiet.

The third didn’t speak, but huffed out a laugh, which was enough to tell Jeremy that he was out of the kitchen.

Jeremy inhaled shakily, exhaled shakily, shifted his grip on his handgun and flashlight, and took a split second to think. Inhaled one more time.

He leapt to his feet, swinging his flashlight like a billy club and clobbering the first figure across the side of the head, sending them tumbling to the ground. From the sound of the impact, a dislocated jaw at the very least. One down.

A shout from the other side of the room, arms moving to try to aim, clearly struggling to see him, but that third figure was in the doorway, silhouetted against the faint light from the oven’s clock, and that was enough to figure out where the head and chest were. He aimed, fired, got what he was pretty sure was the neck considering the brief spray of blood that splattered against the oven, darkening the room completely.

A swear from the second figure, and Jeremy wanted to swear too, because he’d hoped that second figure would be stupid and try and charge him, but now he was ten steps away and didn’t have time to fiddle with and cock the gun again, other hand full with a flashlight and no way to—

Oh, duh.

“Stay where you are,” the second figure ordered, but Jeremy’s eyes were a little better adjusted and besides that, he wasn’t the one talking. He lifted his flashlight and clicked it on.

The second figure cried out, recoiling at the sudden blindingly bright light in what had been near-darkness, and Jeremy had time to finagle his thumb up to cock his gun again, now able to aim with absolute accuracy, this shot connecting with the figure’s head.

He exhaled.

It took Jeremy two minutes to remember to fire a bullet into the chest of the unconscious guy, and another minute for the other mercenaries to start showing up, half-dressed and armed. Dad, presumably to prove a point, showed up pretty close to the middle of the pack almost fully dressed. Jeremy wasn’t entirely sure how long it took before Miss Pauling showed up, but he wasn’t even halfway through their questions by that time.

“Guard, headcount?” she asked before she even bothered saying hello, still wearing her motorcycle helmet and looking more than a little bit miffed.

“Uh,” he said, eyes drawn away from where Medic was assessing the bodies on the kitchen table, “seven present and accounted for. Sniper’s probably out at his van, don’t know about the Scout.”

“Alright. Pyro,” she said, and Pyro stood at attention, bunny slippers squeaking at the movement. “go wake up Sniper and get him in here.”

Pyro nodded, handing their weird unicorn plushie thing to Jeremy as they passed by, giving him a solemn nod before hurrying away.

“Okay. Guard, hit me with a rundown, then,” she said, and shot a glance around the room. “No peanut gallery needed. And Medic, please don’t take them apart too much. I gotta get rid of those later.”

“Uh. Spotted these guys on the cameras, hit the first and second alerts,” Jeremy said.

“And not the third?” she asked pointedly.

“They were, like, right next to the door, and—here’s the thing, Miss P, is I dunno how the hell they got in here,” he said, and there was a general balk from the room. “No, seriously. They didn’t come in on the main road, they were in one of the back hallways by the garage. There’s gotta be a hole in the cameras or something, because I seriously don’t know where they came from. And if they booked it, they’d take whatever vehicle they used to get here, too, and we might not figure it out. Thought I’d just wait for whoever the hell was supposed to be on alert so we could… I dunno, at least see which way they went.”

“Guard,” she admonished, and he shrank a little bit. “That was incredibly reckless. What if nobody had shown up to help you?”

“Uh,” he said, blinked, “but… nobody did show up.”

A pause. She blinked. “What? You’re the one who did that?” she asked, entirely shocked, pointing towards the three bodies on the table.

“Uh, yeah? Isn’t that my job?” he asked carefully, shifting the stuffed animal under his arm.

“No, you’re—you’re just supposed to be the Guard, you’re supposed to watch cameras, not—“ She paused, taking a second to push up her glasses and rub at the bridge of her nose, inhaling, exhaling. “Okay. Points for… going above and beyond, here, but Guard, don’t do that again.”

“Sure thing, Miss P,” he mumbled, tugging on the brim of his guard cap, and sighed to himself as Miss Pauling moved away to try and stop Medic from attempting to covertly steal a few organs from the corpses. Dad clapped him on the shoulder supportively, and that did make him feel a little better. He wasn’t expecting a clap to the other shoulder, and looked up, surprised to see Heavy there, looking just slightly less grim than usual.

“Little Guard man is credit to team,” he said simply, solemnly.

Jeremy straightened up slightly. “Oh. Hey, thanks,” he said. Heavy nodded at him.

“It’s true,” Demo called, and he looked over, got another approving nod. “Really saved the lot of us, lad.”

“I, I mean, hey, it’s… what I’m here for. Or, uh. I thought that was it, anyways,” he shrugged, glancing away. “I mean, yeah, I’m pretty cool, though.”

Dad bumped his arm for the last part, and he snickered. “My question,” Dad continued, doing his best to ignore him, “is primarily regarding who, precisely, was supposed to be present to help Guard with this. Who is meant to be on alert?”

“It’s meant to be Scout, ain’t it?” the Engineer asked from nearby, frowning. A general murmur of agreement. “Could he have slept through it?”

“Heavy doubts this,” Heavy grumbled, looking troubled.

“Why’re we awake?” asked Sniper from the doorway, and various teammates called out a greeting. Sniper seemed half-gone, and completely grumpy, but not as grumpy as Pyro, and not nearly as gone as the man leaning heavily against Pyro’s shoulder.

“Hey,” the Scout managed, grinning, speech garbled, visibly sloppy and unbalanced. “What’s up, guys?”

Groans from parts of the room. “Drinkin’ again, Scout?” the Engineer drawled, visibly irritated.

“That’s my trademark, lad, go on,” Demo laughed, but the enthusiasm wasn’t entirely there.

“Scout,” Miss Pauling said, voice firm in a way that made Jeremy almost flinch in sympathy. “Are you aware that we’ve had a situation here while you’ve been sleeping?”

“Weren’t sleeping,” Sniper murmured, and eyes turned to him. He scratched at the back of his neck. “Came stumbling in ‘round when I was heading in. He was out for the night. Bar, looks like.”

“What?” Jeremy demanded. “Why the fuck didn’t I see him leave on the cameras?”

“Alright,” Miss Pauling said, and Jeremy looked at her. Her expression was hard to read. “It’s possible he went through the back tunnel.”

“Back tunnel?” Jeremy asked, and glanced around. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t heard of it.

“For emergencies only. Scout’s the only one who I’ve given a key card to. I have one too. It’s supposed to be used for transporting especially sensitive information, most of the team isn’t supposed to even know it exists. If there’s a gap in the cameras around the back of the building, he might have been using it to… sneak out to go to town, even though he knows he’s already in hot water for leaving the base so much,” Miss Pauling said, glaring at Scout, who was looking increasingly annoyed.

“Whatever, it’s not a big deal,” he protested, scoffing.

“That tunnel is for emergencies only,” Miss Pauling stressed. “I trusted you with the privilege of knowing about it account of having worked here for so long, and you’re using that privilege and key card to mess around?”

“He was coming back from around the front of the building, at least,” Sniper chimed in, and Pyro nodded. “Not that I’d understand the point of sneaking out if he’s going to just walk back in the front door.”

“Key card?” Medic repeated from near the table, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, it’s, it’s a magnetized card, that can be read by a card reader, used like a key,” Miss Pauling explained, deflating a little bit.

His eyebrows furrowed further. “Would it happen to look anything like this?” he asked, picking up a lanyard from the table and holding it up, showing the room the card clipped onto the end of it.

Two beats of silence. “Spy, would you mind?” Miss Pauling asked politely, nodding towards the Scout, who had gone pale.

“Not at all,” Dad said just as politely, and walked over towards the Scout and Pyro, then circled around behind them, and sank a blade into the Scout’s spine. He promptly crumbled to the floor, dead.

“Well. At least that’s that mystery solved,” Miss Pauling sighed, and rubbed at the bridge of her nose again. “Now I’ve gotta block off time tomorrow to get rid of three bodies, and then hopefully that’s the last we’re gonna hear of this or else the Administrator is gonna kill me.”

“What about the Scout?” Heavy rumbled.

“…Scratch that. Four bodies,” she mumbled, face dropping into her hands. “And then I need to find his replacement. Ugh.”

“Can’t imagine you’d need to go far,” Demo said, and Jeremy looked up, and Demo was very obviously tilting a thumb in his direction.

“He’s proven himself to be better at this job,” Dad agreed, shrugging. “And I would say on a bad day he’s still a better runner than the previous Scout on a good one.”

“He can clearly handle a firearm well,” the Engineer noted, looking over one of the bodies.

“And a blunt object,” Medic chimed, just a bit too pleased. “This jaw is almost completely shattered!”

“Okay, okay, fine, sure,” Miss Pauling waved off, one hand still pressed to her face, clearly overwhelmed and tired. “We’ll get his paperwork in tomorrow. Congratulations, you’re the new Scout, any questions? Can the questions wait until morning? Great, thank you. Good night, everyone. Medic, have the bodies in bags for me at least, okay?”

A distracted thumbs up from Medic, and Miss Pauling was groaning, wandering back out of the room, and most of the team followed, yawning amongst themselves. Sniper half-attempted to ask again why the hell any of them were awake, but gave up halfway through. Pyro, for one, made sure to at least retrieve the plushie from Scout’s arms before wandering off, giving him an appreciative pat on the shoulder.

“So,” Dad said, and when he looked over, he was smiling. “A promotion, mon lapin. Congratulations, new Scout.”

“Do I gotta wear that stupid outfit he always wears?” Jeremy asked, entirely serious. His reply was a laugh and a pat on the shoulder before he disappeared in a puff of smoke. “Pops, I’m serious. Do I? Dad!?”

-

“—So that’s why I figured, y’know, might as well tell you guys,” Jeremy finished rambling, hands in his pockets, continuing down the hallway. “Because… I dunno. I could tell Miss P, but it’s nice having secret stuff, y’know?”

“You think this is how they actually got in?” Demo asked, looking dubious. “Little blind spot in the cameras?”

“Only a couple feet wide, you said?” Sniper grumbled.

“Sounds possible,” Heavy said hesitantly.

“I dunno. Maybe. But if I tell Miss P about it, they’re gonna fix it,” Jeremy shrugged, turning the corner and stopping. “There. I knew it.”

They stopped with him, following his line of sight. “You’re takin’ the piss, mate,” Sniper deadpanned. “You want to tell me he’d been climbing out a window like a teenager?”

Jeremy shrugged, moving to open the window in question. It swung open easily, just large enough to push through with only a little bit of a problem, barely needing to turn his shoulders. “He’s not much bigger than me, and what the hell else would he be doing here?” he pointed out.

“Heavy cannot fit through that window,” Heavy deadpanned.

“Yeah. Sorry, big guy,” Jeremy apologized, leaning back inside and closing it again. “But hey, mystery solved, right?”

“Well, if I ever need windows to climb out of, now I know just the lad for the job,” Demo said, nudging him. “Thanks, Guard. Or, er, Scout. Och, now that’s going to take getting used to, aye? Might just stick to calling you ‘laddie’, laddie.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he laughed, nudging him right back. And as much as they ribbed him for it, he did see a kind of appreciation there. Just like he’d figured, they seemed to take note of him taking their side and not just Miss Pauling’s.

Now he just needed to switch back over to the day shift.

#father-son bonding au #dad!spy #tf2 #team fortress 2 #shut up me #my fanfiction #everybody talks #really happy with this one even if it took Way Too Fucking Long

[sylverstorms]

Mother Miranda x Lawyer!Oc ----Tilted Scales

Hello guys :) This is another commission I wrote for the amazing, wonderful @saltwatereulogies

Your support has been insane, I can't thank you enough. Hope you enjoy the story ❣

Three days.

That is how long you've been in the village, after years of studying abroad, before everything turns to shit.

As you slowly blink focus back into your eyes, you try to clear the haze from your mind. It feels as though you've collided with a truck. Your body hurts, your wrists protest in their iron cuffs, stuck to the wall as they are, having supported your weight while you were unconscious.

Desperately, you try to recollect the events that led you here...

A grey sky. A bleak day. One moment you were making coffee for your mother, excited to be able to sit down with her in the mornings again... and the next you heard the echo of screams.

Overcome by adrenaline, you bolted out of your house, only to witness a scene straight from a nightmare; humanoid monsters ripping villagers apart, cries and blood and animalistic growls all blending together into one mad mix.

And before you could even warn your mother...

Damn it all, what the fuck happened!

You suddenly struggle against your bonds, hard enough to rattle your whole frame. Your wrists burn from the grind against metal, but you don't care–

“Stop that. It is pointless and you will only injure yourself.” A cold voice, strangely familiar, says from far to your right.

You peer deep into the shadows, searching for the only other person in the empty room... until you see her. A mask advances on you, gold and shaped like a crow's visage, then wings folded into a cloak come into view.

You would be a fool to not recognize her. The local saint. The village's prophet. The very 'saint' your mother prayed to, for your safe return, all these years. Mother Miranda.

The sound of her heels bounces off the walls until she comes to stand directly in front of you. Looking past the openings of her mask now, you realize....

This isn't possible.

She hasn't aged a day. Not a single day, since you left the village. The years should show around her deadly blue eyes, somewhere, and yet they don't.

“I see you remember me...” she says, while you're still trying to find your voice. “Miss Warren.”

“What is going on? Mother Miranda, what happened to the village?!” you demand.

Her expression shows nothing. “The village is in need of... renovation.” she speaks, even, regal. “Repopulation, even.”

You stare at her with wide eyes.

“Now, don't give me that look. You would not be here if you weren't of the ones I chose to keep.” she continues. “You see, from now on, every single person in my domain will make themselves useful in some way, or they will be replaced. And you... you have been abroad studying law for a while now, yes?”

“I... yes.” you reply, still not fully having wrapped your mind around your situation.

“Excellent. What I need from you is simple. You will make the village independent from the state’s taxes as a religious organization... and you will keep foreign investors out from that point onward.”

What... what part of that is simple?!

“Do that for me and in return I guarantee your mother and you will go back to your house safe and sound. You will have no shortage of Lei for as long as you live, Miss Warren.” Miranda promises.

But it is not the sweet part of the deal your mind stays glued to. “And if...” you gulp. “If I can't work around the law to do that...?”

Miranda blinks slowly at you, like you shouldn't even ask such a basic question. Like the answer is obvious.

“Well. Then I have no further use for either of you.”

It is in this moment that it dawns on you.

This woman is no angel and no saint.

She is a devil.

-

-

You spend countless sleepless nights pouring over every single paragraph, every little opening or ambiguity in the law you can use to free the village of taxes.

To keep your mother in the dark about this, you work in the office Mother Miranda has provided for you, in her very stronghold.

Although technically it's her home, you don't see her nearly as much as you initially thought. She is gone throughout the day and returns late at night, not even sparing you a glance before heading for her chambers, at the upper sections of the building.

The days she does come into your office to inquire on your progress are few and far-between, your conversations always short and cold.

This evening is different.

“How is your work coming along, Miss Warren?” the prophetess asks with her aggravatingly nice accent, seating herself like a queen on the chair in front of your desk.

Your eyes are tired, but you force them on hers, through the mask obscuring her face. “I think I've got it. I'll be sending the necessary papers tomorrow and the answer shouldn't take longer than a month.”

“Very good.” she nods, a miniscule curve to her lips.

Icy eyes then drop to the wine in the whiskey glass at the corner of the desk. You think she will make a comment about drinking at work, but instead she says;

“Pour me a glass, will you?”

You will your hands steady as you comply, then carefully slide her drink over.

Miranda takes her mask with claw-shrouded fingers... and soundnessly sets it on the wooden surface. Then she pushes the veil at her hair back, shaking long, platinum locks free.

You do a double take you hope she doesn't notice. Because what the actual fuck.

You didn't think her hair was that long, or that straight, or that it would fall over her shoulders like she's staring in a shampoo ad. You didn't think her lips were shaped like a cupid's bow or that her skin was this flawless and radiant.

The helplessly lesbian part of you could begrudgingly admit she was beautiful before... but now you arrive to the painful realization she's drop-dead gorgeous.

“So. I've heard you won cases others would describe as impossible.” she begins.

“Nothing's impossible. You just need to know where to look.” you reply. Law is your comfort zone and she is not that far above you here. “But how do you know that?”

“I have my sources.”

"Nobody truly leaves this village, huh.”

“Not without my consent, no. But I knew you'd come back.” At your slight frown, she elaborates, “You would never leave your mother behind.”

She's right. There was a whole world of opportunities waiting for you out there and yet... here you are.

“Good work, so far. You can take the next two days off. Your eyes could use the rest, Miss Warren.” Miranda speaks, finishing her wine.

“Sarah.” you say. 'Miss Warren' is for clients and she is your boss.

Miranda's lips give a slight quirk that may or may not be a trick of the light.

“I know.” she replies and exits the room, long hair billowing behind her back.

-

-

The taxes were only the first challenge. Now that the village is free of them, investors are flying in circles around it like vultures over meat.

In the meantime, Miranda comes to talk to you more frequently.

Lately, it seems she has more free time. You wish that was a good thing, but...

“So... are you like... going to stay here?” You ask after reading the same sentence five times to make sense of it, because her gaze on you is distracting as fuck.

“I'm not getting in the way of your work.” she says. You want to argue she is, but can't quite do that in a way that won't get you killed.

“I'm simply not used to working with company. Isn't this boring for you?”

“No, actually. I find it interesting, even though science is my field of expertise.” she answers. “And the way you take notes is… amusing.”

You try not to blush as you look down at your notebook, filled with different colored markers and post-it squares with tiny stick figures pointing to the more important paragraphs. You have been doing this for so long to sort out information you didn't even realize you were keeping it up in her presence.

“What is this supposed to be?” she asks with a small smile, the first of its kind you've seen.

To your horror, her clawed pointer aims at a particularly silly doodle, barely the size of a pencil's eraser.

“A... bird.” you grimace like you've been stabbed.

“Ah, of course.” Miranda holds back a chuckle but you can tell she's dying to make a comment.

Studying becomes hell for the rest of the time she's there with you, those sharp eyes picking apart every little move you make. At the same time, though, the hours you spend with her make you realize...

She's not a saint, though she may look like one. She's not completely a devil, either, even if she may act as one, at times.

She's human.

-

-

Miranda shares nothing about herself when you chat, but she seems to like it when you speak about your time abroad and all the things that left an impression on you there.

Your conversation over wine is cut short, however, when you receive a call from a number you learned means nothing but trouble, lately.

“Sorry, I have to take this.” you tell her.

The one calling you is none other than this month's rival lawyer, trying to dispute your claim over the land for his own boss. He's lost to you before, so it's also personal, but you are confident you have cornered them good with the latest papers you sent them...

And you are proven correct, when, a few seconds later, he is all faux polite on the other line, resorting to offering you money for you to withdraw your arguments.

Miranda comes to stand next to you, listening in to what he's saying.

The problem with that is, the second her arm brushes yours and you catch a whiff of her perfume –which always lingers in your office long after she's left— youare the one who stops listening to him.

Your attention flies to other things, like the inches she has on you, the exact color of her pale blonde hair, the little glint of victory in her stunning eyes.

Oh, no. God, no...

You know what this is, the feeling in the pit of your stomach. Alarm bells go off in the back of your head, as though your own mind is telling your body how foolish it's being.

There isn't a worse thing you can do to yourself than be attracted to Miranda.

-

-

Over time, familiarity with the prophetess brings higher levels of difficulty into your 'try to ignore your crush on her' game.

Miranda joins your side and leans over your shoulder, sometimes, to peer down at what you're doing. You don't move and don't breathe until she's within a safe distance again.

Then there are the wayward 'reward' touches, when you turn another investor away from the village. She may pat your back or leave her hand on your shoulder, or even scratch your nape with her claws as a job well done.

You hope your poker face hides the fact you feel her touch on you for far longer than you should, after she's gone.

Tonight, the situation is the toughest it's ever been for you.

There is a rainstorm going on outside; the waterdrops are tapping against the windows of your office as though they're trying to break it. Miranda has pulled her chair next to you so you can talk easier, without having to shout over the cacophony.

“And basically the judge's decision was that—”

You are interrupted by a blinding flash of lighting, during which your mind lets you know the stronghold is easily the tallest structure in it's vicinity—

When thunder cracks down the sky and strikes the building, you nearly scream. Your body tenses and you jump; but Miranda's hands come to your biceps and hold you steady, against herself and your desk.

Another flash comes before you really have time to think about your proximity. She covers your ears with her palms before the thunderclap can send you into overdrive again.

“You are with me and you're scared of a little thunder?” she teases when things quiet down and your heartbeat eases.

It's true; Miranda is the more terrifying force of nature. At the same time, however...

You feel oddly safe to be this close to her.

“Well... I'm not scared right now...” you quietly admit.

Her pointer comes underneath your chin and lifts it so you are looking straight into her hypnotic blue eyes. How is this color even real...

“And why is that?” Miranda asks, her wings coming around you both. They're curtains of black, cutting out some of the storm's sounds.

You want nothing more in this moment than to run your fingers through each individual feather.

You lick your lips. That's...not a question you can answer if you want the balance in your arrangement with her to remain.

Perhaps, though, the scales have tilted for you long ago. You just haven't been brave enough to admit it.

You have the courage to face it now when she leans down and covers your lips with hers, warm in a manner you never imagined she could be.

Her wings pull tighter around you and your mouths slide more firmly together. Lipbalm and creamy lipstick mix, tongues brush, tasting of wine. You are shaking so bad on the inside from how much you want this, more of this, the rumbling of the thunder be damned.

Miranda's palm cups your flaming cheek when she pulls back, perfectly composed and staring at you with a little smirk in place.

You dare to turn a little, lay a tiny kiss on the inside of her wrist, beyond her rings and accessories.

You aren't very fond of storms, but...

You willingly walk right into the eye of this one.

#mother miranda x oc #mother miranda #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #fanfiction #creative writing #commission #thank you so much :')