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anlian-aishang · 9 months

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SNK Men - Falling Out of Love with Them - Levi, Erwin, Eren, Armin, Jean, Reiner, Zeke

tags: snk x reader, sfw, angst, food mention, alcohol mention, smoking mention, break-ups, modern AU, gn!reader

Levi:

You could tell from the second you laid eyes on him: a man of few words, an introvert, full of thoughts but nothing to say. Silent heart held secrets. Crossed arms guarded them. You longed to unlock his cage, to set him free, and shoulder those burdens with him. That desire gave you the courage to approach him. Your kindness kept him there.

Far later, living together, closets and cabinets filled, routines intertwined, such milestones used to give you confidence in your relationship. Over time, though, they became looming doubts. Levi never talked about his day, about himself. When you asked him, he provided mere slivers. When you pressed on, he narrowed his gaze in a way that shut you up. He was the foil to your fairy tales: never professing his love, never a heartfelt love letter just cause. In fact, no confessions of love at all.

Sharing a bed with you, but not his past. Levi had met your friends, your family, but you couldn’t name either of his parents. Where did he grow up? What brought him to this city? Why does he love you? Does he love you?

Years gone by, you started to question whether you knew that much more than you did that first night. Tears in your eyes as you surveyed him from across the living room: hand on his cheek, attention solely on his reading. He looked just as mysterious as he did back then. All that time, those efforts, your affection: wasted.

A man of no regrets gained one in your departure: he should have told you everything. The only one he had ever lived with, the only one he had slept with, he thought it was obvious - how special you were to him. The pain of recounting his past was nothing compared to that of losing you. The vulnerability required to open up was much less than that of reconciling your break-up. In his eyes, he had been an open book. In his eyes, there was no reason to try that again.

Erwin:

Out of your league. Top of the food chain. Tall and blonde, smart and beautiful, he had the eyes of everyone on him. When you learned that his were on you, god, it was a feeling you wished you could bottle forever. If you could have, maybe that would have prevented you from falling out of love.

From the first day you met him throughout the course of your relationship, you never forgot how appreciated he was, even if you wanted to. It was what drew you to him, now what separated you from him. Every morning, he left for work far before you woke up. Every evening, he was home too late for dinner. Weekends were wonderful - lazy cuddles, fancy brunches, movies and museums - but they were all you had: a mere 72 hours of his week. Work was his life, his wife. You were just his part-time, his side hustle.

Over time, so constantly reminded of his importance, you felt comparatively, increasingly worthless. How many meals alone? The housework of two allotted to only one. Dinner parties where your date was the hidden corner or the cocktail bar rather than him. You realized: you were practically already single, and you would rather be comfortably single than repeatedly broken up with - every time he chose you last.

What you missed were the kisses on your forehead before he left those mornings, the overtimes he put in so that his weekends could be free for you, the refusal of all-expense-paid business trips to Paris, London, Hong Kong just because they did not fit in your schedule. He had the world at his disposal, but home was always his top destination. Some days, he was late to arrive there. He left earlier and more often than he would have liked. But it wasn’t the mansion that drew him back, it was always you.

Eren:

Eren’s spontaneity was perfect for that summer fling, the movie star of your coming of age. Last-minute drive-ins, sudden custard cravings, sneaking out of windows, and spur-of-the-moment road trips to nowhere, Eren was game for all of your heart’s desires, the most indulgent boyfriend, maple syrup on tap.

Seasons changed, though, yet his impulsiveness didn’t. Come your birthday, he had no surprises planned, just whatever you want. Anniversaries that he would play by ear. When leases ran up and it was time to decide whether to move in together, he was a shrug of the shoulders: what do you think? Anything about your future, he played listener and simply let you drone on. He did not change the subject, but his lack of enthusiasm essentially did, a deafening silence to your thoughts: indifferent to a life with you.

In frustration’s lens, his open mind became a careless one. Adventure was just childishness in disguise. Did he really love you or the idea of you? Were you a special someone or just someone to share experiences with? Unthoughtful, and you don’t deserve someone who doesn’t think of you.

You decided to give him a taste of his own medicine when you suddenly packed your bags and snuck out of his house for the last time. Before he could realize you were upset, you were already gone, denying him a chance to tell his truth. He did not care about the steps along the way, all he cared about was sharing your path. Leaving decisions in your hands, he let you be the captain while he played passenger to your life. Given your fear of growing up, he felt that he could be your partner in playfulness, keeping your spirits alive. All of him meant to prioritize your happiness, whatever that would take, wherever it would lead you - even if it was out the door.

Armin:

Ocean-blue eyes, sunshine in his hair. Warm smile, soft hands. His appearance caught your attention, his mentality was what hooked you. Armin thought ahead, far ahead, constantly several steps before yours. It allowed you to relax for once, trusting that everything was safe in his hands. Reserving tables, making plans, shopping lists, booking hotels, thorough itineraries, his handling of everything convinced you to worry about nothing.

In taking away your stressors, though, he had taken them all to himself. He would pile on, pile on, pile on until he was overwhelmed, taking it out through sporadic morning sprints and screaming in scalding showers. Apparently, his preferred decompression lie in caffeine-fueled midnight spells at his desk over a bed with you. When you tried to quell him, he would whimper, I’ll try to do better. I’ll do better. A simple sentence, but misunderstood. You thought he would improve at communicating with you, that he would work to share his workload. He meant the opposite: if he could manage his time better, if he could measure his responsibilities accurately, it would prevent his meltdowns so that he wouldn’t have to run to you.

You were patient week by week. Month by month, you began to wonder. A year later, and he still had not even thought to let you in. From there, anxiety’s voice amplified: he thinks you’re incapable, incompetent. You can’t be trusted with even the smallest things. He doesn’t trust you.

No matter how many times he read it over, your letter still confused him. Encyclopedias and editorials, no piece of literature had left him lost like you had. A good head on one’s shoulders was his first and foremost requirement of any partner, so why did you say you didn’t have one? You saw his mistakes and loved him past them, how could you claim he was a perfectionist? All of him was with you in mind, but if he couldn’t share his life with you, you weren’t his life partner.

Jean:

By his own confession, he was helplessly in love with you. Jean said it early, said it often, both in words and actions. Close cuddles every night, deliberate kisses every morning. Regular reminders of his feelings had lifted your self-esteem from lowest lows to highest highs. You were such royalty in his eyes, you actually started to believe it in your own. Jean willed your status into reality.

You became the decision maker, the head of the home. He became your biggest fan, your yes-man. From things as small as choosing dinner to topics as big as world views and your futures, he was completely agreeable. Your hobbies, your friends, your feelings became his. At first, you thought you had met your perfect match. Despite his praise, though, you knew that the world did not revolve around you, only his did. When you asked him what he really wanted, he looked lost. Starting hypotheticals with if I wasn’t around… left him dazed.

He was your perfect match because he was your mirror. In becoming yours, Jean Kirstein lost himself, you killed him. Playing his commandant, you destroyed him. Letting him free, you owed it to him.

Jean could not disagree, no matter how much he wanted to: he had become yours, you had changed all of him. What you got wrong, though, was that it was for the worse. The role of significant other was what made him come alive. Before you, he was nothing. With you, he was something. Your needs gave him purpose. Your smiles gave him rewards. You had led him down a candy trail in pursuit of your affection. He had always imagined it would lead to a lifetime with you, but instead, you cut him off in the middle of your forest: lost and confused, alone and hopeless, nowhere and nobody.

Reiner:

Radiant. Blonde hair reflected all light, making him stand out in any scene. His voice was deep, you dove and drowned in it. A head-turning, infectious laugh. Reiner’s body language was confident, his figure strong. His smile was inviting, his eye contact solid, attractive conventionally and especially to you. Broad shoulders would carry your troubles, soft lips would kiss your wounds. You clung to him like a life preserver, someone to share your struggles.

It was selfish of you, but he didn’t see it that way. In fact, he took it as the opposite. In catching your tears, he knew you would be there to wipe his. Listening to your vents, you had handed him a microphone to voice the things he needed off his chest. With you, Reiner was comfortable, even more than times he was alone. You let him cry while his inner voice yelled for him to stop. Tears penetrated your shirt, soaking all the way to your heart. Ashamed to admit it, but you used to enjoy them. A one-person audience to his other side. Proof that he could be himself with you. You took pride in that exclusivity.

Night after night, though, those emotions started to lose their rarity. Bags under your eyes, drifting off to sleep but woken up by a loud sob, Reiner was no longer romantic, but pathetic. That assured and capable man from before turned hollow in your presence. This isn’t what you signed up for. You’ve been tricked. You’re not his therapist. Instead of sympathy, apathy. Your former desire to hear all he had to say was overshadowed by your longing for him to be happy. The more he cried to you, the further you reached towards the conclusion: he was more often sad than happy in your presence.

You said it was best for him, but you were the best thing that ever happened to him. You said that you could still be friends, but his friends didn’t know what you did, no one did. You had taught him it was okay to feel, but finished the lesson: just not with me.

Zeke:

Sharp, critical, an opinion for everything, above it all. You found him flawless because he could find flaws in anything, so when you managed to make him fall for you, your ego swelled: you were perfect.

Reserving a passenger seat in his car, you felt you had booked a celebrity. Movie tickets, plane tickets, side by side, the exclusive partner for his excursions. Sharing his bed felt too good to be true. In it, the adoration he gave you was ripped straight from your dreams. For you, he only had praise. When he became your everything, your flaws disappeared to nothing. Two perfect people in love with each other, you thought your relationship would be the same.

It was for a while. Hearing his rambles, you savored his cynical perspectives and the low sound of his voice. His contempt for everything else, you translated it as proof of his love for you. When all else was awful, he found solace with you. Eventually, though, that lens grew cloudy in cigarette smoke. You could listen for hours, but the only thing that stopped his rants were the Marlboros. You never minded the smell of smoke, but when you thought of its connotations - confiding in cigarettes rather than you - you grew to hate it, to envy it.

You worked so hard to make your home a happy one, but rant by rant, it was filled with sadness. If he had so much to complain about, he must not have been happy. If he was not happy, you were not helping him, at least, not enough. Not enough, not enough, not enough - no matter how much he insisted.

// masterlist //

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silentcrowsilentravens · 1 year

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hi idk if u have seen spyxfamily but there is this scene where the wife gets really drunk and mistakes her husband for an intruder. Can i get some headcanons for what carlos and chris would do in that situation thank you <3

I haven't seen it, but this is a fun idea.

Headcanons about what Carlos Oliveira and Chris Redfield would do if their s/o got incredibly drunk and mistook them for an intruder.

(Gender ambiguous).

Warnings: n/a

Masterlists here!

Carlos Oliveira

It's kinda late.

You're absolutely plastered.

Carlos isn't home and you want to try and wait up for him. You flop down onto the couch, turn on the TV, and try to get yourself comfortable.

Maybe a bit too comfortable. Not even minutes into the movie you decided to put on, you start to nod off despite your efforts not to.

You're not quite asleep when Carlos returns, but you're teetering dangerously on the edge.

He turns off the TV, deciding he'll carry you to bed after taking a quick shower and putting on some comfy clothes.

As he heads for the bathroom, flicks on the light, and closes the door behind him, you stare with half-closed eyes, confused.

In your drunken state, the first thought to slowly float through your brain is 'Who is that...?'

You then jump to the only logical conclusion: This is an intruder. One that's currently using your and Carlos' amenities!

You clumsily stand, nearly tripping over the coffee table as you go to the bathroom.

You press yourself up against the wall beside the door and wait.

The shower turns off.

A few minutes pass.

The door opens.

A figure steps into the doorway.

You go in for the attack.

Immediately, Carlos' instincts kick in. He steps back and assumes a defensive position, but he doesn't need to. You miss by quite a lot, doing a slight spin before falling face-first onto the carpet. It's unclear what exactly you were attempting in the first place.

After the initial surprise wears off, his features twist in confusion and concern. "You alright? What're you doing?"

You ignore him completely, latching onto one of his ankles as if it could possibly stop him from walking away. "Listen here, man." Your words are slurred and it immediately becomes obvious that you got too deep into the liquor cabinet. "If you think you can get away with breaking in here, you've got another thing coming. My boyfriend can kick your ass, and he's supposed to be home any minute now..."

You're still on the offensive, but you're too inebriated to accomplish anything.

Carlos bites back a laugh, amused by all of this. "Sure, babe. I'll kick my own ass."

The words don't quite process. "...Huh?"

He crouches down in front of you. "I'm your boyfriend, remember?"

"Ohhh..."

"Yeah." He picks you up and shoulders you. "Time for bed. You're wasted."

"Am not."

"Right. Sure."

Once you're in bed and all cozied up, Carlos puts a glass of water and some Asprin on the nightstand beside you.

You will be teased about this situation once you get some rest. And for a while after that.

Chris Redfield

After spending a night hanging out with some friends, you get dropped off at your and Chris' shared apartment far more wasted than you have ever been before.

Chris went downstairs upon realizing he forgot to check the mail, and you miss each other as you make your way up. As far as you're aware, you're about to be home alone as you close the door behind you.

There are a few lights on, but you don't really think much of it.

You take your coat off and just barely manage to remove your shoes.

That's when Chris reaches the apartment. Ever the cautious man after all that he's experienced, he did go ahead and lock the door before stepping out.

Your attention is quickly caught by the heavy footsteps in the hallway, and the audible fumbling of keys.

This is just like a scene in one of the movies you watched with your friends, where the main character realizes some creep is trying to get into their place.

The thought sort of freaks you out, so you immediately lock yourself in the bathroom you're currently standing in.

Just before Chris can turn the door handle, his phone begins to ring.

"Hello?"

"Chris," you whisper, "someone is trying to break in."

Instantly, he's asking you if you're okay.

Chris is under the impression that you're still with your friends, so he's throwing open the door and hurrying around the apartment in an attempt to grab everything he needs to come to your aid.

He's asking for more details. What exactly is happening? Where are you?

You aren't being particularly helpful. You're hard to understand because you're crying, whispering, slurring, and panicking. But who can blame you? From your perspective, there's some stranger stomping around the apartment, moving things, and saying stuff that you can't make out.

"You have to tell me where you are."

"The bathroom," you sob out.

"Where? What's the address?" Chris presses.

"I'm at home!"

After a moment, he pauses. He's standing there completely ready to leave as the words sink in.

He says your name.

"Yeah?"

"Nobody broke in. It's me."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." He heads over to the bathroom and convinces you to come out.

You're still a mess, so he takes you into his arms and spends some time reassuring you.

Then, he guides you to the bed. He'll put on a show you like or something. You can watch it with him until you fall asleep.

#resident evil x reader #carlos oliveira x reader #chris redfield x reader #resident evil 3 remake #resident evil 5 #chris redfield #carlos oliveira #re 5 #re 3 #chris redfield x you #carlos oliveira x you #resident evil 3 #re 3 remake

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sardonic-the-writer · 1 year

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—the red festival

SUMMARY | the day that november sixteenth became known as the red festival in history books was the day you watch your life crumble to the ground

PAIRING | various x reader

REQUESTED | no

WORD COUNT | 10k+ words

WARNINGS | gore, death, explosions, november the 16th, etc

AUTHORS NOTES | no use of pronouns but characters use nicknames of various types. toots, mamacita, dude, etc. i've really missed just going over lore and torturing c!characters

🧨 Masterlist 🧨 Navigation 🧨 Rules 🧨

In this world, everyone was a drunk.

It didn't have to be alcohol that got them there—though in some cases, that was just it. No. In this world, you had seen people be driven to the edge by a variety of things that wasn't just a bottle of scotch. A pair of discs could do it. The feeling of blood dripping down a sword. Deep rooted ambition to be the ruler of nationwide kingdoms. A thirst for pride. Separated they seem so different. But put them together and it was all the same thing—sinners after their sin, blindsided by their own passion.

You hated that word. Passion.

The emotion was a dangerous thing. Almost entirely akin to fire in ways. A small flame was hopeful, but infective. Hardly able to do anything. However, with just the right amount of it, as long as it stayed reasonably contained, you could do amazing things. Shape the earth, sway the people, change the very rules to the game. But too much, and everything burns. Burns until all that's left is ash and charred bones.

Your bones had been burned enough to where you tried not to make those mistakes.

Dead eyes and a pair of nervously pursed lips stared back at you through the cracked mirror on your wall. Fingers nimbly adjusted the tie around your neck, hiding the slight tremor in them.

Schlatt—the leader of Manburg, your president—had required you to wear a suit to this evening festive. The order extended to all the cabinet members, even the vice president. He had requested the handywork of the beat tailor around. A woman named Puffy, who had been as kind as can be to you during the brief fitting that was required.

The suit and its accessories were all entirely red, different shades of the hue donning you from head to toe—ranging from ruby and rose to a deep crimson. When asked about the peculiar color scheme, Schlatt had given some sort of faint response about him not being upstaged as the only one in all black. To remind the people who was really in charge. You hadn't pressed anymore, just taking the suit and returning to your room until the next cabinet meeting.

It was where you stood now, a day later. Staring at yourself while tying the final knot on your tie, grimacing as you made the connection between it and a noose at that moment.

A hollow knock made itself at home on the surface of your mahogany door. You swiftly crossed the room to crack it open, expecting a disgruntled Schlatt to be staring you down. But you found a slightly shorter man instead, the feeling in your chest loosening as you saw the familiar blue beanie.

"Ready?" Quackity asked you, a slight dull in his otherwise bright eyes. He looked very uncomfortable right now in his suit and bow tie. The only clue that this was still the Quackity that sang songs about dicks on his wooden guitar to you was the lapis cap resting on his raven locks. And even that was out of place. It was a wonder in itself how he had managed to convince Schlatt to let him keep it included in his outfit.

You couldn't help but wonder if you looked as alien as he did in your own garb. You pushed the anxious thought down with a swallow, the effort of it harder than it had been a moment ago.

"Hey Big Q. Is he getting pissy? Are we running late?" His name didn't even need to be said. You both understood the message.

A quick glance on the clock at his wrist confirmed your suspicions as Quackity nodded, smiling shakily at you.

"Si. Last I saw, he had been downing another bottle. Scotch this time. I remember what happened last time he drank that, so I figured I'd busy myself and come get you." Quackity held his arm out to you as an offering as he spoke. You took it, closing your room door behind you as you both began to walk down the spacious hallways leading away from it.

"Ready to beat some ass?"

You shot a confused look at him before breaking out into short laughter. He had always been able to coax the sound out of you—a growing feat, considering the events of this past year. Perks of making genuine friends in a shitty position you suppose.

"Seriously? In the middle of everything, all you can think about is that little boxing event?" You chuckled as Quackitys grip on your arm tightened around you, bringing you closer to his side as he spread his other arm out dramatically. He mirrored your brief excitement, looking down at you with a toothy smile.

"I've been waiting a whole year to kick some ass man! Show everyone I'm not some useless nobody that's only around because of their pretty face. Or whatever else Schlatt says about me." The last part was more of a bitter mumble, the stench that surrounded the ram hybrids name dampening the mood.

"Hey." You knocked a fist into his shoulder softly, attempting to cheer yourself up as well as him. "I'll be rooting for you. If you want, I can bet on you. A million to one odds you get beaten, I reckon. Ducks can be pretty mean when they want to." The last part was a poor joke, but Quackity still smiled at it nonetheless, the soft yellow wings on his back twitching subconsciously at the mention of them.

"Don't bet everything, mamacita. After all. The Blade is going to make an appearance." He scratched at the back of his neck anxiously, releasing your arm from his own as you both noticed you were at the end of the lengthy hallway. Now all was left was to open the giant doors, gates were a better word for them to be honest, and step out into the sunlight.

"I remember." Your voice sobered up as a flash of pink and red crossed your mind, the memory of a golden crown and a piglin skull surfacing.

"Are you sure this plan will work?"

You were both speaking in whispers now. Quackity's hand was placed on the handle of the doors in front of you, and your knees were locked in place; the both of you ready to bolt. It was a dangerous thing to even think about these kinds of things within the capitol of Manburg, much less say it out loud. You quite liked your head on the top of your shoulders and didn't plan to have it chopped off anytime soon after all.

"I trust Tommy. If he's sure this will work, then it will." You barely whispered. Quackity frowned at your sentence, looking into your eyes as if he was searching for something. But if he found what he was looking for, he didn't say anything.

His eyes dropped to the floor as he sighed, eyes closing.

"This needs to work." His grip on the doors handle tightened to the point where his knuckles were white. Your own hands formed fists at your side, nails leaving marks in your skin. "This has to. I can't keep doing this dude. I'll go insane."

"Yeah. Me too Big Q."

And with one final look between the two of you, gazes somber and heavy as the air before a storm, the doors opened. And you went to greet the people of your nation.

The screams of the crowd around you were like those of a wild animal.

You sat in one of the many front rows, posture still as it could get. Your mouth was drawn into a thin line, watching—what had Schlatt called it, the pre-entertainment? —as one of your only friends and the president of this damned national circled each other like vultures.

Quackity looked like he wanted blood. You didn't let the smile on his face fool you for one minute: after all he had gotten quite good at faking those. From the moment he had stepped into the makeshift boxing ring, he looked like he wanted to rip Schlatts heart out. Rip it out, roast it over a fire, and fucking eat it.

Schlatt on the other hand was unreadable. All the gaudy jewelry he was always seen wearing was still on. Chains of gold and silver dangling from the sharp tips of his horns. Rings glinting with the little blood that had been shed from the fight. The smile on his face outshone the glimmer coming from them though.

He looked, well, happy to be beating the shit out of someone. Anyone. Although you hadn't expected anything else from the very man that had exiled two completely innocent people.

As a drinking cup flew past your head in the direction of the ring, just missing its mark, you had a brief thought. Wondering if the true animals were in the ring right in front of you, or gathered in the crowd you sat in so silently. The very notation that it was either made your skin crawl.

"Pretty cringe if ya ask me."

If your back could have straightened up anymore, it would have. Instead, you were left with a wide eyed expression, looking over to your left to be met with a grinning man twice your size, twin pink braids resting against his extravagant red cape.

You could barely force a sentence out.

"Yeah." You coughed lightly. "L plus ratio and all that."

The infamous Technoblade had always been an enigma to you. Depending on who you asked, you were either extremely lucky or extremely unlucky to have the weird bond you did with him. It wasn't friendship—far from it. You knew he didn't really do friendship. It was more so a strong understanding. That neither of you were to overstep on the other. To take advantage. And while that rule was mostly in place for you, because you both knew if Techno wanted to he could take everything you hold dear in a heartbeat, it worked just fine. Still. That didn't stop you from getting a little anxious around the widely dubbed Blood God.

For fucks sake. That sword at his hip looked sharp enough to cut pure netherite in half.

Techno snorted at your equally as dry response, leaning his head down to rest it in the palm of one of his hands as his eyes watched the still ongoing fight.

"Yuuup. They asked me if I wanted to try a round in there with one of em." He shook his head for a moment, and you understood why. The thought of him versus anyone you could think of was almost laughable. "I turned em down 'course. Didn't feel like stirrin up trouble before the festival."

You were just going to have to get used to speaking in code today, apparently. Technos sentence didn't carry a lot of weight for anyone but you. But maybe it was the way his red eyes were now trained on you that had you mindlessly shuffling in your seat.

"Damn. And to think I didn't bet on Quackity winning all of them just because I knew you were coming."

He laughed at that again, his baritone tone. overpowering your own.

"Saved yourself some money. Would've been nice for clout though. Always need clout."

"Yeah. Clout." You echoed back.

"So." Techno drummed his fingers on the edge of his knee, still looking at you through the stark white holes in his skull mask. "Everythin' ready for me?"

Ready for you? You wanted to say. You mean ready for the murder of a tyrant? Ready for quite possibly the very thing that could bring everything we've worked for down in one ugly swoop?

"Yeah. It's ready."

He nodded with understanding. For a moment, his hand reached out near your back like he wanted to pat it, but he stopped at the last second, awkwardly returning it to his side as he stood up stiffly.

"Gonna go check out the dunk tank." Techno cleared his throat. "If you see Fundy wandering around soaking wet later, you know where I was."

He didn't waste another second standing in between the mass of warm bodies, slipping away without so much as another look at anyone as far as you could tell. His ability to leave without even being seen was beyond you. Today, that would be crucial.

You didn't linger much longer either. After Schlatt pulled out an axe, calling over to Quackity that it was over for him, you left the area with a sympathetic look to your friend. Both of you knew Schlatt wouldn't do anything too brash in the eyes of the public. And while you guessed he didn't consider banishment three minutes after winning an election brash, outward murder was up there on his barely existent no-no list.

It was enough to drive you away from the arena at the very least.

"—ou can do th–"

"—ome on don't be a pussy Tub–"

"—you've got this."

Your aimless wandering found a target as a voice from your left drifted your way. Either the alleyway it was coming from had become sentient and named itself Tub, or a familiar brunet was pacing around it talking to himself.

You thought the latter.

Sure enough, the moment you got far enough down the dingey hallway, you spotted Tubbo in his own red suit. The ends of his coat sleeves were already fraying despite the tough material, and you didn't have to look long to find out the source of it. You remembered he had used to do the same thing to his old L'Manburg uniform; pulling at loose threads until Wilbur would take him aside and sew it back together with the few supplies they had, softy scorning him all the way.

You had a feeling Wilbur wouldn't be doing anything of the sort these days.

"Hey Tubs."

The kid in front of you jumped at your sudden appearance, quickly whirling around to face you with as serious of an expression that he could muster. Your attention was drawn to the small bumps on the top of his head—horns, you had come to realize over the course of their appearance—before flicking back down to his green eyes.

"Is something wrong? Did they find out? Is Tommy okay?"

The whirlwind of questions tumbled out of his mouth shakily. For a moment you felt like facepalming yourself. Of course he was going to assume the worst. You had just walked in on his nervous pacing with the leftovers of a somber expression on your face, curtosy of Schlatt and his diamond axe.

"Yes bossman, everything's alright. Trust me. I just heard you an wanted to make sure you weren't losing your mind." Your weak attempt to do damage control worked, watching as your words doused the nerve educed wildfire behind Tubbo's gaze.

It hurt you to see him like this. Not just because he was worried about things he shouldn't even be involved in, although that was true. It was rather that he was simply here. With a stupid fucking uniform on and what seems like the weight of the world, or at least a very populated nation, on his shoulders. You had seen men, even kings and queens twice his age, collapse under the threat of the very same thing.

If there was one thing you wanted to do today, it was to get him out of here. Back with Tommy. Where he belonged.

"It's going to be okay right?" One of his fluffy ears, a product of his hybrid genes, flicked down slightly in questioning. The way he looked at you, like you had all the answers in the world, made you believe for just a moment, that you did. That everything really would be okay. That come tomorrow morning he, and maybe even you, would be far far away from here.

Then you looked down at his trembling hands before being thrown out of your fantasy.

"Believe me Tubbo. The biggest battle you're facing right now if the one with your own mind." You smiled the biggest you could for him, dodging the question entirely as you went to muss up his hair. He responded with a playfully whine, lightly swatting at your hands with his tounge out until you stopped.

"Now come on. If you're lucky you can see if Niki's still selling pastries before our speeches."

That certainly got him going. You had to bark out a laugh as you tripped over your own two feet with the effort of trying to keep up with him as he bolted out of the alleyway, smiling.

Luckily Niki had still been selling some of her cooking, although all that had been left was a few slices of red velvet cake. The lady had given it to both you and Tubbo for free despite your stern orders not to do that, ushering you away with the excuse that your speeches were to begin soon to get out of you paying.

"Alright." You did a quick check offstage after waving Niki goodbye as she went to her seat, now speaking to Tubbo and Quackity, who had arrived with a bloody nose and triumphant grin. Apparently haven beaten Schlatt at least once during his boxing spree.

"Notecards?" You fixed Tubbo with an expecting gaze as he patted his suit pocket for security. For a moment you thought of mentioning the red cake dusted around his mouth but thought better of it.

"Check!"

"Strange lettuce metaphor?"

"Check!"

"False loyalty for Manburg?"

"Check."

"And our hype man?" You turned to Quackity, who was already looking at you smugly with a pair of finger guns.

"Right here mamacita!"

Tubbo's brows furrowed for a moment.

"Mamacita? What does that mean?"

You felt your neck flush as Quackity looked at you before bursting out into laughter, embarrassment flooding through your veins.

"Don't worry about it Tubs." You grumbled, face flaming as you jabbed Quackity in the ribs so hard he gasped.

"Ay ay! Easy on the goods!" He giggled. "Besides, I could call you a whooole lot worse than mamacita."

"He sure could."

Just like that your shoulders tensed and feet set themself at a center. Tubbo and Quackity followed suit, watching as you cleared your throat to address the newly arrived president.

"Schlatt." You nodded with as much respect that you could muster right now. The smell of booze and smoke didn't miss your calculated senses as the goat man sneered—or was that a grin?—in your direction.

"Mr. President." He corrected you for the millionth time since you had started working under him.

"Mr. Schlatt then." And like always, you met his demand halfway, taking nervous pleasure in the way his eyes narrowed every time you tested his patience.

He grumbled but did nothing more. Simply making his way over to Quackity's side and throwing an arm over his vice president harshly. As always, he looked all but mildly interested. Like all this was underneath him. It was strange really, how much he claimed to despise Wilbur. They were both so alike in the end. Both businessmen with ambitions that reached for the stars. Both mortals who held them at the position of a god. Both atomic bombs with an expiration date that refused to acknowledge that fact.

"I hope you pussies are ready to wow everyone." He cackled gleefully; eyes unblinking as his cold gaze fell to your own. "Blow them away, even."

"Yeah well—" Quackity pried himself away from Schlatt, although didn't stray far at the glare he was sent. "—we just need you to get it started. Everyone is waiting for you."

Schlatt just rolled his eyes. "Sure. Send your fucking boss away why don't you, Flatty Patty?"

Much to you and the others relief however he dragged himself away toward the stage steps, checking his appearance out in the reflection of the black tarp like curtains that drapped around all sides of the stage: save the front.

It was all you could do now to not grab Tubbos arm and run in the opposite direction. You had made too many promises to do that though. You weren't going to ruin it all by running away now. And you were most certantly not about to abandon her. L'Manburg meant too much to too many people, yourself included.

You listened to the screeching feedback of a mic as Schlatt stepped onto the stage and into the veiw of hundreds of people, tapping the microphone to make sure it worked.

"Uh, hello everybody!" The tumultuous roar of applause that greeted his words was like a splash of poison to you. "And welcome to the festival of Manberg! Manberg’s festival!"

From your stance you could see the orange form of Fundy jumping up and down not too far away from you, hat going slightly askew as he yelled his praises.

Quackity joined in, faking an excited giggle just loud enough for the mic nearby to pick up.

"Yes sir!! Yes sir!" He glanced at you as a reminder, and you plastered a perfect PR smile across your face at the look. It was all about keeping up appearances to the very end after all.

"Awesome!" Schlatt grinned. "I’ve invited all the citizens of Manberg and some very close friends of mine to enjoy the festivities that have—that this, uh, nation—something—I don’t know."

"Yeah, the thing!"

"Basically, I just wanted to throw a party! You guys know me—" The whistles and shouts of the crowd didn't stop even at his lackluster speech, only growing. "—I'm a nice guy! I enjoy a good party, y’know? So, uh, I decided to put one together for you all."

There goes Fundy again, his tail wagging with anticipation as he looked up at Schlatt like he was his savior. You remembered a time when he had looked at Wilbur like that too.

Come to think of it, so had you. At least until those frantically written letters from Tommy had started to come by crow in the dead of night.

"So we could all partake in this—in this beautiful count—in the f—in the fruits of this beautiful country!" Schlatt hiccupped.

"I'm going to be honest ladies and gentlemen. Let's get all the boring shit out of the way. None of you came here for the politics or the government stuff, although maybe Techno did—" His malicious joke fell flat as he singled out the warrior; whom of which was easy to spot as all the seats in the crowd surrounding him were empty, people too afraid to sit near him. He simply offered a short and awkward laugh, fiddling with one of his many weapons. Seemingly to pass time.

"—so let's get all that out of the way with some speeches? Yeah? A bit off schedule but who the fuck cares am I right!"

With the way everyone shouted their approval to him, you had no doubt that they would agree with everything he said in that moment. You would be lying if you didn't say that the thought made you sick to your stomach.

"Now let's get our lovely Secretary of State up here!" Schlatts voice boomed. It was nearly impossible to miss your cue as the words wrapped you in a tight squeeze, expelling all the air from your lung like a boa constrictor. Or maybe that feeling spawned from the way Schlatt was looking at you, blood red eyes dragging over your face with a sudden soberness.

Wooden steps creaked under your weight as you climbed the few stairs it took to get on stage. Instead of meeting the crowds prying eyes, you stared straight at Schlatt. Who you found had, again, already been looking at you with a self satisfied smirk.

His fingers brushed yours as he handed over the mic, leaving prickly feeling like thorns in their wake. One of his hands went to cover the mic as he bent down to whisper in your ear, lips pulled into a cruel smile that could seem genuine from afar.

"Fuck this up—" He hissed through clenched teeth. "—slander my name—" His grip on your shoulder tightened without you knowing it had even been there in the first place. "—even so much as think of mentioning your little friends on the rooftops of my city—" He pulled back to look you in the eyes. To watch as they drained of any hope you had garnered before stepping out into the open. "—and I kill everyone."

Then he left.

Was this the feeling Daedalus had consume him as he watched his son die? As he watched the boy who flew too close to the sun fall through the bitter winds and delve into the unforgiving sea that would become his grave?

It sure seemed like it.

"Hello, fair and prosperous members of Manburg." You settled for rotating eye contact between the only pink haired members of the crowd, refusing to look at anyone else but Techno and Niki as cold dread set in.

"It has been a challenge, working for this nation." Some whispers followed your words, no doubt speaking on the fact that you were one of the original founders of L'Manburg, and there for your word was the be scrutinized. "But it has been a privilege."

You watched from your pedestal as Techno raised an eyebrow slowly in your direction. Your speech was beginning to sound more and more like a death sentence and less of a political declaration. Although, hadn't Schlatt made it that way the second he revealed the knowledge of your plans? And hadn't you set it in motion the second you mistook him for a foolish drunkard, unable of sniffing out what you had been planning.

"Your leader—my leader—JSchlatt has done a great deal for this nation. Tearing down our countries ensnaring cage—" Your shaking hand extended to present the sight of the lack of obsidian walls, earning a few murmurs of appreciation in the process.

"He has turned us into a self-reliant nation, dependent on no one but ourselves." You swallowed as you thought of what you were supposed to say next. No, it wasn't what you had planned last night hunched over your desk, still believing you had a chance to get out of here with your friends; but rather what Schlatt had laid out for you moments ago. A choice.

Shall you die a rebel? Going out in flames with your friends, never to be resurrected again? Or would you live a reluctant traitor? Turned away by the only people who you knew still cared, and taunted by your enemy?

One last look at Schlatt was enough to make up your mind. And he knew it, spreading his lips into a shit eating grin that stretched ear to ear.

"And because of these new developments in our economy, I have come to realize the truth. That I, one of the cofounders of this land, hereby renounce all notions of the dead nation of L'Manburg—" You heard gasps ring from the crowd like an executioner announcing your fate. "—and pledge myself to the great Manburg!"

You finally saw what Schlatt had been talking about the moment those words left your lips. Two cloaked figures, one much taller than the other, stood on the top of a nearby building. Only one of them had their hood down, the expressionless face of Wilbur Soot—a madman living in the shell of what had once been your most trusted friend—staring you down without a word.

One look at the crowd below you told you all you needed to know. Nikis face was stained with angry tears, Fundy looking at you with an expression similar to the one someone would make after being slapped in the face. Even Techno was gone. Come to think of it, he had been gone for a while now, surely driven away by your betrayal, even if it was fake.

And as the cold hand of the devil rested itself upon your right shoulder, maniacal laughter spilling from his lips, you heard the words that would take your second life.

"I really didn't expect you to go that far toots" Schlatt snickered, not even caring that the microphone was picking up his every word. The nickname he adorned you with made you snarl, earning a laugh from him "Really a nice effort to keep your friends alive. Can't say the same for you though. Techno? You can come on out now big guy."

You pinpointed the exact moment your heart dropped to your toes as the Blood God appeared out of thin air, a crossbow pointed straight between your eyes. A few particles, no more visible than the smoke from a hot mug of tea, rolled off his shoulders and arms in waves. An invisibility potion then. A damn good one too from the looks of it.

"Oh." You spoke with surprising calmness, voice soft. "Thats where you went."

"Sorry." He rumbled out an apology, shrugging like he was discussing what to have for dinner with you and not preparing to shoot you point blank "He offered me more money. And blood."

"I really wouldn't try running if I were you by the way. Heard this guy can kill anything from over a mile away with just a rock." Schlatt patted Techno on the back with a twisted sort of pride—like a hunter displaying a trophy—and you watched as the pinkette stiffened. None of the friendliness he always showed you anytime you would happen to cross his path. Just the dead eyes of a mercenary with a job to do.

"Any last words, oh dear secretary of state?" Schlatt clapped his hands together with a sickly sweet smile, canine's sharper than ever as he looked down on you.

You took a breath.

"Wilb—"

"Too late!"

And then your world exploded in stars of red, white and blue.

You really hoped no one would ask you what being dead felt like.

That would be a real pain in the ass to talk through.

The closest you could get to describing it was silence. Not just in the normal sense. Although that were true as well. Nothing made a noise in the black surrounding you had found yourself encased in. One could speculate that it might be the darkness of a coffin, your dead body buried in it for all eternity. But you immediately knew that wasn't true. The soupy expanse before you stretched out for miles and miles in each direction. You didn't know how you knew that, you just did.

You had been here once before. When you were but a mere five years old. The time in your life for chasing balls down the street into traffic and scaling trees as high as your mother would let you. Ironically it had been neither of those things that had gotten you killed. Rather, it was the prick of a rusty nail from your banged up red wagon you had loved at the time. You hadn't known it then, but from that point on, it would take a week for you to die painfully, your body failing prey under the hands of tetanus.

Maybe if you had known what was to become of your future, what was to become your very destiny, then you wouldn't have waisted one of your lives on a stupid fucking wagon.

It wasn't long before that serine silence was broken with the muffled sounds of yelling. If you stretched your ears hard enough, you could barely make out the sounds of explosions. Screaming, pleading. You couldn't tell if they were echos of your last moments, or simply the aftermath of it. Both seemed plausible in that moment as you laid there, floating everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

"—ind our way."

"—xplain to them–"

"—uck off bitc–"

It was fitting that the last sense to come back to you was sight. After all, you had been killed with a shot from a crossbow no less than two inches from your eyes, the ammunition consisting of some stupidly over powered fireworks.

But it did come back. And wherever you were certainly wasn't your bed—the spawn point that had been set ages ago within the walls of L'Maburg turned Manburg. That was evident enough with the way a sky full of colors blazed overhead, smoke purging its normally beautiful hue.

"Hey. Hey! Holy fucking shit balls! Their awake!"

There was only one person that thick accent and crude language could belong too, and you had been long overdue for a visit with him.

Your vocal cords strained for a syllable to grasp onto, failing pathetically as a weak zombie like groan fell from your lips.

"Bruhh. They just died and are already tryin' to try hard life again." A vice directly in your ear chuckled, and you couldnt stop the feeling of dread as you pinpointed who it was.

"Woah, hey. Calm down man. I'm not gonna hurt you or anythin'." Technos grip around you tightened as he kept you from wiggling out of his arms. You heard Tommys loud protests for him to stop manhandling you and eventually Techno sighed, releasing you from the bridal position he had you in—presumably because you had been dead moments ago and weren't really able to walk on your own.

Of course, your legs gave out almost immediately. Against your better judgment, you grabbed onto Techno's plush red cape to steady yourself, drawing a grunt from him as he was jerked back slightly at your added weight.

"Go—" You panted with the effort of speaking, feeling like you could down an entire gallon of water right now. "—fuck yourself Technoblade."

"Yeah, okay I deserve that."

"Holy shit!" Both of your attentions turned to Tommy as he stared at your wobbly figure with his jaw open.

Techno silently asked permission to rest hand on your shoulder, and when you shot a scathing glare his way be backed off, although keeping a close enough distance for you to grab onto his cape.

"Hey Tommathy." You sounded awful and everyone knew it. The words coming out of your mouth were less like words and more like nails on a chalkboard. Not fingernails, literal nails. Like the ones you hammered into coffins.

Okay. Not the best analogy at the moment.

"Here, take this." Tommy patted his pockets for a moment before looking at Techno with a small grin, laughing nervously. The taller man just grumbled something inaudible, rummaging in his own pockets for a moment before bringing out something and beginning to hand it to you.

"Wait no I want to give it to them!"

Techno paused and you could almost hear him rolling his eyes with a small smile as he tossed it over to Tommy, who then proceeded to proudly march what you now knew was a bottle of water over to you.

You heard Techno sigh as he watched you spectate the glass of clear liquid. You didn't care. Let the pink bastard be annoyed. You were allowed some suspicion. He had just killed you after all.

"You don't think that if I wanted to kill you again—" Again. There it was. "—that I would have done it already?"

"Yeah well to be fair, I don't really give shit." You popped the cap with one of your thumbs before tilting your head back to down the entire glass, dropping it on the grass beneath your feet when you were finished.

"Alright I deserved that too."

"Wait a minute." Finally, your legs had started to feel more like some half-frozen jello concoction instead of pure jelly, just enough to where you could weakly push yourself off Techno's cape. Which you think both you and he appreciated. "Where are we?"

The trees and fauna that surrounded you were alien in nature. Of course, you knew that you were in a forest, but you had spent your entire life on this server and had never once seen trees as tall and wide as these. It hadn't been smoke blocking out the beautiful blues of the sky earlier like you thought, but instead clusters of thick branches: the leaves preventing any sunlight from reaching the three of you.

"Well, we were supposed to be at our super secret top base a couple minutes ago, but then you woke up." Tommy puffed his chest out at the mention of his hideaway. A faint name you hadn't heard in a few weeks came to mind, and you let it roll off your tounge as you realized where exactly this forest lead.

"Pogtopia. You're taking me to Pogtopia."

Tommys prideful grin and Techno's overwhelming silence only confirmed your fears.

"No. No you can't fucking take me to Pogtopia. Certainly not with him." Your words tumble over each other in a verbal avalanche as you jutted an aggressive thumb behind you at Techno, really hoping that he was still there and that you didn't look like an idiot pointing at nothing.

"I told ya they wouldn't like it."

"Shut the fuck up Big T, I'm trying to work here." Tommy snapped. And for a moment you could see the fear in his baby blue eyes. It was so hard to remember that he was just a kid sometimes. With Tubbo, at least his boyish face made it easier for others to remind themself that he was still a little kid. One that had been thrust into the harsh spotlight of the world. But Tommy? Little Tommy that had been so eager to grow up and be like his Wilbur? He had been pushed away from the limelight from the very moment L'Manburg's construction had begun. He was the waterboy, running around both literally and metaphorically behind the scenes trying to keep everything together. Loosing what had little childlike quality he had about him in the first place.

In some ways, Tommy was still a scared child. But in most? He was now a soldier with too many scars to bear. And he would have to live with all of them for the rest of his last life.

So you took a breath and steadied yourself in the moment. If not for you, then for Tommy. The boy that could outshine Helios himself.

"I trust you Tommy. I told Tubbo that the day of the festival, however long ago that was. I don't know right now and personally I don't care. So if you think that taking me to Pogtopia really will do some good, then let's go."

Tommy blinked at you once. It reminded you of the way a raccoon would, tilting its head gently while looking at a bag full of chips it wanted to steal. But Tommy wasn't a raccoon, and you weren't a bag of chips. You were just two people that had been through hell and back and then to hell and back again.

"Yeah." He spoke softly, and for a moment you thought you saw his eyes gloss over as he sniffled before the blonde turned away sharply. "It's not far from here, so you shouldn't have much trouble walking. Unless Mr. Blade here wants to, uh, carry you?"

"No."

"Yeah okay. Thought so."

"Will you at least let him, fucken, explain what happened then?"

Your eyes narrowed as you stared down Tommy, before eventually grunting with reluctant nod.

"Not much to explain." Techno shrugged, his many accessories clinking together with the effort. "Schlatt found out 'bout our plan and I had ta make some last minute changes. Couldn't tell ya, you were too close to Schlatt at the moment. Really am sorry 'bout the whole fireworks thing."

"Did he really make an offer to you? For blood and all?"

"Mm. Yeah. I accepted at the time ta keep up appearances, but it came in handy when things went south."

Tommy nodded along with Techno's words, occasionally backing him up with a yeah! Or, that's right!

"So you're telling me." You squinted. "That you really didn't want to kill me?"

"Ehhh not really." Techno shook his head. "I like blood sure, blood for the blood god and all that, but you're alright."

It might not seem like much of a compliment, but you knew when I came to Technoblade that any form of praise was to be appreciated.

"Alright." You finally relented. "Just—don't do it again."

"Wasn't plannin on it." He snorted. And with that you all set off again.

Tommy really hadn't lied about the distance it took to get to Pogtopia. The walk hadn't taken much longer than a simple ten minutes, half of those ten slowed by your constant need for breaks and water. You hadn't remembered dying being this annoying after coming back to life—which you still had question's about regarding why you hadn't spawned in your bed—but then again you had been five. And considering you couldn't remember where you put your own shoes half the time, it wasn't a surprise you had forgotten about the side effects. The very annoying, very exhausting side effects.

Eventually you noticed the changes in your surroundings. Animal sightings were few and far between now—the something going for any kind of colorful plant life. Even the birds had stopped singing, leaving the three of you to walk in an eerie silence that was occasionally broken by Tommys warbly singing—a habit he had picked up during the war you recalled. Now all that was left were trees that were getting bigger and thicker with every step.

All of it led up to one big crack in the ground, Tommy stopping at the bane of it with what could only be described as a tense smile. As you looked over his shoulder and down the edge, vertigo gripped you by the neck and shook you around like a rag doll. You had to scramble backwards, only being able to catch a glimpse of winding staircases leading up and down the walls of mother nature's natura crater.

"Home sweet fucking home. Hope you like potatoes."

Spoiler alert, you did like potatoes. You liked these ones quite a lot actually.

After getting over the fact that they had been grown with dirty rain water and expired seeds, you had taken tentative bites from the first healthy food you had laid eyes on in months. When you were back at Manburg, under the constant watch of Schlatt and all his cronies, you had grown distrustful. That extended to everyone from the servants that were required to clean your room (you had made a hidey-hole for important things inside the foundation of your bedframe) to the gardeners that trimmed trees outside your two story high window (you ended up purchasing a sheet of glass from a local blacksmith on the downlow, the brittle material enchanted so that way you could see out of it, but nobody could see in) and even the cooks that would prepare your meal.

You had taken to relying just on Niki for food. But the baker only knew how to make sweet treats. So as a result, you had been left brushing your teeth twice as long every night after surviving a day on cakes and cookies, praying your teeth wouldn't fall out at a moment's notice.

It's strange, really, how that's what you chose to think about as you sat around a makeshift cobblestone table, munching on potatoes as news of death and despair was retold to you in a detail so deep your skin prickled with the effort. You had come to learn that human mind worked in strange ways when it came to grief. But you really didn't really think potatoes would be the thing to calm you after everything.

You didn't like being alone. Especially not in Pogtopia. Surrounded by stoney (no pun intended) walls that frowned down upon you, all the cracks and crevices filled in with buttons of all types. Wooden buttons, stone buttons, metal buttons, glass buttons. All begging to be pressed. In a moment of curiosity, you had considered the possibility of pushing one before dispelling the thought as quickly as it had come. Waving it away with a pass of your hand like a smoker would do to smoke.

The human mind was a dangerous thing when left unattended to. You knew that. You had seen it one too many times in the eyes of madmen as you walked down the streets at night. And even in the eyes or rich nobles who had hoarded their wealth all to themself, becoming consumed with so much of their own greed they were simply a sick personification of a dragon.

For once it wasn't any of them you had to worry about. Rather yourself. You and the tiny pile of potatoes Techno had oh so graciously left for you in a neat stack as he and Tommy left. Something about a rescue mission and you not being allowed, which torn you between insisting you came with them to give Schlatt hell (if he was even still alive) and staying to rest. But you had ultimately made your decision, one last longing look at the food enough to tip you over the edge.

Still. Something didn't feel right. Something had been bubbling in your chest like molten lead ever since you set your eyes on Pogtopias chambers, air bubbles occasionally surfacing in the thick stew and popping, lighting up your brain with the answer for just a moment before dying out and simmering away. And each time you had to resist the urge to groan in frustration like a child faced with a list of chores.

What had Wilbur always mumbled when you used to peak into his office, finding him looking out his window? A symphony this, symphony that. An unfinished symp-

An unfinished symphony.

The lava in your chest had reached it boiling point.

You looked, and I mean really looked, at your surroundings now. All the buttons surrounding you from wall to wall. The faint smell of gunpowder and red stone. How bits of sand were scattered all across the floor, practically sticking to your already battered shoes.

"Oh Wilbur. Oh no Wilbur."

You could do nothing but stare at the pieces to the puzzle your former leader had left behind for you to find.

He really had gone mad.

"I need him." You numbly realized through a cloudy haze in your mind that only a few other people knew about what Wilbur was planning. Did Techno? Did Tommy? Was that they he had looked so saddened when he had gazed out upon this cesspool he called home? Watching as you walked around it, not knowing what sins had been committed in its very walls. Even if that was the case, Tommy was long gone now. On his way back to that damned country of Manburg. Probably already there too, along with thousands of other people that Wilbur planned to bring to an end.

"I need him." This time you were actually moving. Really moving, searching for anything to write with and write on. Eventually you gave up on going formal and ripped part of your pant leg off, dipping your forefinger in some coal dust that had gathered on the floor to write a message to someone. Someone you hadn't talked to in years.

Wil's gone crazy. Lots of death. L'Manburg. Hurry. Find me.

You paused for a brief moment before adding something that you knew would get your old friends attention.

Techno's here. Need help

"Goddamnit this better work. Now let's see if I still remember how to do this."

Fingertips tasting of ash and coal placed themselves on the inside of your mouth- forming a familiar shape as you blew out harshly, a high pitched whistle following suit.

You didn't have to wait long to bear the fruits of your labor. Only a few seconds of tense silence consumed your time before a jet black crow appeared out of nowhere and landing on your shoulder. Looking at you, it tilted its head sassily, almost as if asking what are you waiting for?

Handing it the piece of fabric with seldom a sentence on it, you nodded at the intelligent creature.

"You know what to do."

You imagined if crows could roll their eyes, this one would have. But it flew off without another second despite its attitude anyways, the only evidence left behind that it had even been there a sleek feather that stuck itself stubbornly in your hair.

It had the easy job. Now it was your turn to carry the weight and find your old friend.

Well, at least before he could commit mass genocide.

The gentle sound of guitar strings being plucked in harmony filled your ears as a soft summers breeze tickled your face.

You would be a fool to call this moment heavenly. Anyone would. It was far from perfection. The holes in your clothes and sunkenness of your cheeks were evident enough of your struggles.

But for a moment, all of that was tossed aside as you leaned against the man next to you, reveling in the warmth that radiated from him even in the hot afternoon.

"Careful there love." Wilbur chuckled, pausing the playing of his guitar to adjust the strings. "Get anymore comfortable and I'll have to carry you back to the van at this rate. Can't be having my best soldier falling asleep on me in the middle of a war."

"We're not on the battlefield though, general." You had used the title jokingly, but a sliver of respect still shimmied its way in there somewhere. It always had and always would for as long as you stood by his side.

"You jest." The British man hummed with approval as he got one of the tunes on his guitar just right, moving on the fix another. "But both you and I know war will never end. Not for people like us."

Your brows furrowed. The blanket both of you were sitting on to protect your legs from the prickly grass shifted as you sat up straighter.

"What do you mean Wil." You frowned. He looked up at you through his lashes, wiry glasses threatening to fall of his long nose before he pushed them up. "We're this close to winning L'Manburg from Dream. She'll finally be real. Your lifes work taken form—our lifes work."

"And how right you are." As the end of his sentence trailed off into nothingness, you raised an eyebrow, recognizing the fact he was about to go on another one of his poetic tangents.

"But?"

"But I am simply a conductor. And orchestrator, if you will, of something much bigger than me. L'Manburg is my unfinished symphony. Always had been and always will." You recognized the far away look in Wilbur's eyes as he stared at you, gently resting his guitar to the side as he took one of your hands in both of his. "This is a song that could, and very well might, go on for ages. Swelling and crescendoing for all eternity."

The though brough a smile to your cheeks. The very same ones that turned hot as Wilbur reached a hand up to cup your jaw with a prideful smile.

"But even as she does on, my dear soldier, once the reins have even taken from me forcefully—a thing all people in power have to go through—the tune will change. Not enough for anyone to notice the difference, oh no. But just enough to where it's always in the back of your mind, nagging you. Screaming and yelling with such an insignificant voice that something is wrong. No one will notice before it's too late and everything comes crashing down from above."

"I'm not sure I understand Wil."

"What I'm trying to say, darling, is that this symphony, as unfinished as it will always be, needs to end with me. By my hands and my hands only. Poetic, isn't it? Built and destroyed by the very same man?"

"You're always poetic, oh esteemed general." You mumbled in amusement. He had lost you again amidst his ramblings, as he always did. But as the rough callous of his thumb ran itself tenderly across the skin on your cheek, you couldn't find it in yourself to really care about anything else.

"Me and you." Hed whispered to you then. "You and I. Our beautiful nation—"

"—together until the end."

Wilbur finished the memory for you as you stepped into the bunker you had been looking for.

It took you exactly one try for you to be able to find him.

It wasn't hard really. You knew that if Wilbur hadn't wanted to be found, then he wouldn't have. If he hadn't wanted you to see the gunpowder on Pogtopias ground, or all the ominous buttons decorating the walls, he wouldn't have. But he did. He wanted you here with him. To witness the great end he had spoken about all those years ago atop a grassy hill. To end what you both had started. Together.

"What fools we were, my old friend." A laugh as bitter as black coffee spilled from Wilbur. He stood against a carefully chiseled wall, lyrics you wished you didn't recognize but still scribbled all over the hollow room like something from a horror movie.

"Since when did we become old friends? Last I checked you were wishing me luck on the downfall of Manburg." It took little effort to speak to him this way. Wilbur had aways been the one person you understood completely. Even now as he laid out a room full of mass destruction in front of you weren't surprised. Dread ridden and horrified maybe, but surprised? When it came to the two of you, neither ever were with the other.

"That was before today's festival though, wasn't it?"

"Both you and I know what I said wasn't true." So this was still the same man that had stared you down from a rooftop as you announced your false allegiance to Manburg. "I was killed by how unimpressed Schlatt was with my performance, remember?"

"Don't—" He held out a hand, hissing angrily. "—say his name. Not you, You don't get to say his name when you're with me."

"What am I, your dog?" You asked, incredulous he would go as far to demand you not speak certain things. "Grow up Wilbur and stop throwing a pity party in your doomsday room like a child. So you lost. You lost the election. You didn't lose me or the dozen other people that would die for you in a heartbeat, and you sure as hell didn't lose Tommy."

He flinched at the mention of the young blonde. Good. Let him stew in the fact he had fucked up. And he really had fucked up. Hard.

"Now come on. I'm tired of fighting today, Wil." The old nickname slipped out as easily as it always had. You supposed even with months of separation there were some old habits you hadn't been able to break. You saw his cold gaze soften in the heat of your words. "Let's go see if we can find everyone, yeah? Try and work this out. Show everyone you're not the bad guy you so desperately want to be."

"You—"

"Mate? What are you doing?"

Both of you froze, albeit for different reasons. Suprise melted into disbelief as you turned on your heal to be met with a set of brilliant black wings, the owner of them watching the both of you curiously.

"Phi." You breathed out, going to hug him tightly. The man wavered in his own moment of surprise before eventually embracing you back, although it didn't last long before he pulled away, eyes flickering down to the missing piece of fabric on your leg with realization.

"I would ask how Techno's doing, but I'm just glad I found you in the first place mate." His tone was serious as he scanned your face, hands resting on the sides of your shoulders like a security blanket. "The crows had a harder time locating you than usual. I just barely stumbled in here on my own anyways. And speaking of which—" His eyes, aged with years of experience and worry, flicked from your face to around the room before eventually landing on the only other person in the room.

"Wil? What's going on? What are you doing."

"Hello dad." Wilbur's voice shook like a child's when they got lost in the grocery store. "I assume they called you?"

"Yeah. And I think for a pretty good reason too, son." Phil took a small step away from you and toward Wilbur instead, the latter stiffening and shuffling closer to the wall behind him.

"What is this place?" Phil sounded more sullen than you had ever heard.

"Okay—I will admit. It's, uh. Do you know what this button is?"

Wilbur stepped to the side just enough to reveal what he had been standing in front of. It was a button, no larger than the size of your palm, with a red x slashed through it.

"Uh huh. I have a feeling I do." Phil spoke cautiously. You had a feeling you did too.

"Have you heard the—the song—" He pointed to the walls. "—on the walls? Before? Have you heard the song? I was just saying—I made this big point and it made—it was poignant, and it was the—it’s um—" He looked at the walls like a man trying to remember his past. "There was a special place, where men could go. But that’s not there anymore, you know? It’s not—"

"It is there!" Phil shouted over his rambling. "You've just gone and won it back Wilbur!"

"PHIL- I’M ALWAYS SO CLOSE TO PRESSING THIS BUTTON, PHIL!"

Both of you waited with bated breath as he tugged at his hair violently, and for just a moment you saw his bloodied scalp. Presumably from where he had done that many times before.

"I’ve been here—I've been here like seven or eight times! I’ve been here—seven or eight times!" Wilbur laughed a cruel laugh, his eyes darting from your face and Phils.

You watched as he took a breath.

"There was a saying. Uh—by a traitor uh—once part of L’Manburg. A traitor, I don’t know if you’ve heard about Eret?" The last part of his sentence was meant for Phil, but at the mention of her name you swallowed down years of tears. Yeah. You remembered them.

"They had a saying." He finally looked at you, offering a small smile. The same smile that got you into all of this in the first place. The same smile that you had loved to see while sitting round a fire, looking at the stars and telling tall tales. The same smile you once had pledged you would follow to the ends of the earth.

"It was never meant to be."

And then he slammed his hand down on the button.

Later you would remember the scream that drew itself from your throat. The way Phils wings covered you as a protective barrier, their soft material deflecting the heat of the TNT that exploded all around you.

But in the moment, all you could focus on was the way Wilbur's flesh sizzled and his bones charred. Burnt with the passion for his country.

Burnt with something that, indeed, was never meant to be.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

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ihni · 1 year

Text

Patience

Written for @billyhargrovebingo, square A1; "A price I'm willing to pay".

Rated: G, Words: 1994

(On AO3)

~~~

Flo ran out of patience twenty years ago.

For eighteen of those years, she’s been working for Hawkins’ Police Department. People have come and gone during her time here, but she has remained, through thick and thin.

Besides Flo, Jim is the one who has been here the longest, with his five years. Calvin came in a year later, and Phil only started two years ago when his family moved to Hawkins from Montana.

This means that Flo has been here longer than the three of them combined, which gives her seniority. Sure, on paper they all outrank her, but in reality, she is the one who keeps things running around here and they wouldn’t dare cross her. They all know that Flo has no patience for bullshit.

Not anymore. Not since she threw her abusive piece of shit husband out on his ass twenty years ago, got a job, and managed to raise their three teenage sons by herself despite what everyone said about her behind her back.

Everything at the department runs smoothly, because Flo is in charge of it. The boys know better than to encroach on her territory, and have learned to ask her for the things they need rather than try to find them themselves and risk messing with her system. They’re fast learners, that way. Or maybe her glare is just that terrifying.

“I don’t think they’re afraid of you,” Harold said over breakfast one day when she mentioned it. “They’re simply showing you the respect you deserve, honey.”

Flo huffed and rolled her eyes at that, but Harold had only smiled serenely at her and put another sugar cube in his coffee.

Harold is, perhaps, the only person for which Flo will make an effort to be patient. They met years ago, but didn’t get together until all her sons were already grown up and had moved out, far from Hawkins. And even then, it was two years before Flo let him into her life fully.

All the patience that Flo lacks, Harold has in abundance. Enough to cover the both of them, he usually jokes.

She is thankful for him. He’s a good man. Not everyone is lucky enough to find themselves a good man – she knows that by experience.

Flo has a lot of experience. Which is why her eyes narrow when she walks into the station one morning to find a young man in handcuffs seated at Phil’s desk while Phil is rummaging around in the filing cabinet in the corner of the room.

The young man glances up as she passes him – he’s got a black eye with a swollen eyelid, and splotchy bruising on his jaw – but looks down again before she can meet his eye. Frowning, she walks up to Phil and clears her throat. To his credit, he only jumps a little and immediately backs away from the filing cabinet.

“I wasn’t ...” he starts, “I just needed an empty file.”

She raises her eyebrows and looks at him over the rim of her glasses as he gives a helpless little shrug. Without a word, she walks over to another cabinet where she keeps the empty files. He takes the one she hands him with a low “Thanks, Flo”, and walks back to his desk to deal with his young perp.

Flo listens in as she prepares for the day; brings in the morning paper, starts the coffee machine, goes through the agenda for the day, looks over the unintelligible scribbles that Phil – who had the night shift – calls notes. While she works, she listens to Phil as he talks to the kid – a Mr. William Hargrove, apparently.

It’s quiet in the station in the morning, and Flo hasn’t turned the radio on yet. She may be old, but there is nothing wrong with her ears and it’s not like the other two occupants in the room are talking in low voices. It wouldn’t matter, anyway. She’s the one who types out the reports.

The more she hears, the deeper her frown gets. When Jim finally shows up around nine, Flo intercepts him before Phil can catch his attention. She hands him a cup of hot coffee and pointedly doesn’t comment on the pastry crumbs in his moustache that show that he visited the bakery on his way to work.

“Jim, a word?” And Jim knows better than to cross her this early in the morning, so he accepts the coffee, nods, and gestures for her to lead the way into his office.

“That young man in there,” Flo says as soon as the door is closed behind them and points with her thumb over her shoulder. “Phil picked him up at the gas station outside of town around daybreak. He was slinking around the parking lot, and Phil caught him at the back door, holding a brick. Looking like he was trying to break in.”

“Okay?” Jim says, taking a sip of his coffee. He’ll be able to read this in Phil’s report later, so he’s probably wondering why Flo is telling him this.

She huffs. “The kid is beat up, Jim. He says he got in a fight but no one has made any calls about a fight tonight. There are no marks on his hands. He’s been sitting hunched-over since he got here. And you know what they sell at the gas station, besides gas and snacks?” She raises her eyebrows expectantly. She doesn’t suffer fools gladly.

Luckily for her, and everyone else in town, their Chief is no fool. And he, too, has some experience with these things. His eyes clear in realization. “Pain pills. Basic first aid stuff.” She nods, satisfied that she doesn’t have to spell it out for him. “Who is he? I don’t recognize him.”

“New in town, apparently,” Flo says. “Name of Hargrove. The family moved in from California a week or so ago.”

Jim hums, and Flo knows that he’ll take what she has said into consideration when he inevitably talks to the boy, after he’s sent Phil home to get some sleep. It’s enough. She’s done what she can.

Or so she thinks, until she walks out of Jim’s office and sees that Phil is leading the young man towards the holding cells. The kid looks beaten down. Exhausted.

“Oh just leave the kid here,” Flo says and watches as both of them stop and turn towards her.

“Protocol states –“ Phil starts, but Flo huffs and waves it away.

“Since when do you care about protocol? Jim will want to speak to him soon anyway. I’ll look after him. You go home, Phil. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Phil knows better than to argue. Fast learners, the lot of them. He goes to exchange a few words with Jim before going off his shift, and leaves Flo and the kid alone. She gestures at the chair in front of Phil’s desk, the one he was sitting in before, and the kid sinks back into it. Flo knows she’s not imagining the wince as he’s sitting down. It’s gone in a flash, but it was definitely there.

She turns her back on him, only in part to give him a chance to compose himself. A minute or so later, she walks back to him and places a mug of coffee, a glass of water and two white pills on the desk in front of him.

He looks up at her, surprised. “What’s this?”

Inpatient, she gestures at the items. “What does it look like, kid?”

“I don’t need –“

She’s not about to get into a discussion with him, so she cuts him off. “I’m not forcing you to take them. Take them or don’t. Up to you.”

She turns her back again and leaves him to his own devices. She has her own work to do, after all, the phones won’t answer themselves and Mr. Thompson usually calls first thing in the morning to rant about whatever the neighbor’s kids got up to last night.

When she passes the kid next, the pills are gone and the water glass is empty. She’s glad to see it, even if she doesn’t say anything. The boy is holding the coffee cup with his handcuffed hands and taking small sips, grimacing at the bitterness of it. Flo probably should have offered him milk or sugar, but everyone at the station drinks their coffee black so it didn’t cross her mind.

She meant what she said, though. The kid can drink it, or not. His choice. She’s not his keeper.

She putters around the station while Jim speaks to the kid in his office. Talks a bit with Gail who is passing by with her dachshund, and waters the few spider plants that she has placed on the south-facing windowsills.

The kid emerges from the office uncuffed, with Jim following behind him.

“I’m driving Billy here back to his car,” Jim says, pulling on his jacket. “I’ll be right back. Hold the fort, will you?”

It’s a rhetorical question. He knows that she will.

She spends the time while he’s out typing out Phil’s near-illegible notes for the kid’s file, and adds a couple of details she heard them talk about that Phil forgot to write down. She’s done this for decades, she knows what details are important. She’s just finishing up when Jim comes back, this time alone.

He sinks into Calvin’s empty chair, which is the one closest to Flo’s desk. None of them speak for a moment, then Jim sighs. “I think you’re right.”

“I know,” Flo says, and hands him the boy’s newly typed-up file. “The question is, what are you going to do about it?”

“There’s not really anything I can …” He trails off when she levels him with an unimpressed look. “Don’t look at me like that, Flo. I am the Chief of Police, I have to follow the law. I can’t do anything if he’s not talking. And he’s not talking.”

She purses her lips. “They live over on Cherry, you know.”

He frowns, suspicious. “So?”

“I have a friend who lives on Cherry. Ruth. I haven’t visited her in a while.”

Jim groans. “No, Flo. I’ll keep an eye on the family, okay? You don’t have to get involved again –“

“Who said anything about getting involved? I just think it’s about time I visited my good friend Ruth. We haven’t talked in ages. Maybe she has some new gossip for me. About her new neighbors.”

Running his hand down his face, Jim groans again. “Please, Flo.”

“It’s a small town. It’s important to get to know your new neighbors, after all. As a representative for the Police Department, perhaps I should go and say hello.”

“You’re killing me,” he says under his breath, standing up with a grunt. “I’ll make some calls to an old colleague in California. Happy?”

She levels him with a look and raises her eyebrows. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She does, and they both know it. She’s also not going to let it go. They both know that, too.

“This is gonna blow up in my face somehow, I know it.”

As Chief of Police his hands are tied in a way that hers aren’t. Going through the right channels is just too slow-moving for her. She doesn’t have that kind of patience.

So she shrugs. “That’s a price I’m willing to pay.”

“Of course it is,” he mutters. “Because you won’t be the one paying it.”

“Excuse me?” she says, raising her eyebrows. “Who does all the paperwork around here?”

He inclines his head as if to say ‘fair’, and then adds, “Fine. You win. But if you happen to go and say hello, please take Harold with you. At least he has a sense of tact.”

She glares at him, but it’s half-hearted. Harold will want to come with her, anyway, when she tells him about the boy.

#billy hargrove #flo #stranger things #billy hargrove bingo #ihni writes #listen i just like flo okay #i think she is a gruff old woman who is anything but cuddly #but is efficient and caring in her own way

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issie-https · 11 months

Note

Would you write Nikki Sixx x reader fluff like him waking you up on your birthday with like breakfast in bed and could it be 90s Nikki?

Birthday Girl

Nikki Sixx X Reader

A/n: I need to have a tea party with Nikki and Slash😩 Anyway, I feel like I got a tad carried away? Not that it’s long because it’s a short one but idk. I’ve got a handful of requests to do and I’m so excited! And thank you for 32 followers❤️

Word count: 770

Warnings: Nikki being adorable asf

Masterlist

༺✩༻

I woke up to Nikki slightly shaking my shoulder. "Is everything okay?" I yawned. "It should be," he replied, placing a tray on my lap once I'd sat up. "Aww, Nikki. You didn't have to," I cooed. He gave me a kiss and sat down on his side of the bed. "I did, it's your birthday," he replied, stealing a piece of fruit from the bowl. "Where'd you learn to cook?" I asked, putting a forkful of pancakes in my mouth. "Your mum. I called her the other night and she came over and taught me," he replied. "Is that why Katie invited me to hers?" I said. "Yep," he said. "It all makes sense now," I smiled, taking a sip from my tea. "Happy birthday," he cheered, almost nocking the plate of my lap. "NIKKI!".

"Okay, now that you've finished your food. It's present time," he said, placing three gifts and an envelope on the bed. I looked at the presents and the wrapping was messy but I could tell he made an effort. "Aww, Nikki," I said, my emotions and hormones taking over making tears well in my eyes. "What's wrong?" He asked concerned. "You're so fucking sweet," I cried, pulling him in for a hug. "Open this one first. You can wear it tonight," he said, handing me a rectangle-ish present. I tore the wrapping off to reveal a blue Tiffany & Co. box. I looked at him and he just nodded his head, indicating for me to open it. I opened it and inside was a gorgeous diamond necklace. "Oh, Nikki. It's the one we saw in Italy," I sighed. When Mötley went to Italy, I tagged along and while we walking around, we passed by Tiffany and I stopped to look in the window and saw the most breathtaking diamond pendant on a silver chain. "I got it when you went to the toilet," he added, making me laugh. "Thank you, Nik," I said, kissing his lips. "This one next," he said, handing me a big box. I opened it and saw 'Christian Louboutin' on the lid of the box. "Nikki, I can't," I said, feeling guilty he spent all this money on me. "Open the fucking box or I'll do it for you," he said. I opened it and there were my dream pair of Louboutins looking back at me. "Nikki, I-". "You're keeping these shoes. And you're wearing them tonight whether you like it or not," he cut me off. "Okay. Thank you so much," I replied, taking one last look at the shoes and replacing the lid. He next handed me a thin box, smirking as I tore the wrapping paper off. I looked inside and saw a red set of lingerie. I looked at him and saw him grinning from ear to ear, thinking about me wearing it later. "Very cleaver, Mr Sixx," I laughed. He shrugged and pointed to the last gift. It was an envelope this time, making me confused as fuck. I opened it and it was a handmade card with a Polaroid of us on the front of it. I opened it and saw his messy but adorable writing.

Hi, princess.

I'm not the best with words or stuff like this but I'll do my best. Since we first met eight years ago, I've never stopped thinking about you. Since we started dating six years ago, I've never stopped loving you. Not once have I thought about another woman(not even Sofia Vergara). I don't ever want to think of another woman, you're all I need. I need you in my life forever. I love you, gorgeous.

Love, Nikki xx

I looked up at him, tears streaming down my cheeks. Everything he said about me, I could say about him. It's true, Nikki Sixx is the only man I need. He turned to his bedside cabinet and took something out the draw. He got up and kneeled on the floor, opening the box to reveal a jaw-dropping diamond ring. "Y/n Y/l/n, i said everything in the card so now if the last part, will you marry me?" He asked as I clasped my hands to my mouth. "Yes," I managed to say. He got up and engulfed me in a giant hug, kissing all over my face. He grabbed my hand and put the ring on, kissing my knuckles after he did. "Mrs Sixx," he said, starting to cry as well. "Mr Sixx," I replied, hugging him again. I looked at the diamond on my finger. Mrs Y/n Sixx. I like that.

#motley crue imagine #motley crue #nikki sixx imagine #nikki sixx #mick mars #vince neil #tommy lee

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a-crumb-of-whump · 11 months

Text

A New Beginning #18: Family

Masterlist | AO3

Content: Break a dish trope (but he doesn't break anything), multiple caretakers, vampire whumpee, PTSD/trauma, recovery.

Carlos knew he’d made a big mistake the moment he saw the mess he’d made on the kitchen floor. All he wanted was to make something nice for Adam’s sisters when they arrived, and now there was cake mixture all over the tiles and on his clothing. The clothing that wasn’t even his to begin with.

Even as Ryker came hurrying down the hallway to see what had made all the noise, Carlos simply stood there with his mouth agape and tears already welling in his shock-filled eyes. How could he have been so stupid? All this mess, just because he couldn’t walk on his own two feet without tripping.

“Carlos?” the human called to him as he maneuvered his way around the mess. He reached out a hand the moment he was close enough and used it to bring Carlos back to reality with a gentle squeeze to his shoulder. “Hey, what happened? Are you hurt?”

It took a moment for Carlos to fully register that someone had spoken to him. When he finally did, nothing but a strained noise would come out. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight before him, so horrified by what he’d done.

“Hey, It’s all good, man. You’re okay. No one’s upset with you.”

“...but I’m upset with me,” the vampire eventually hiccuped. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned to hide his face against the human’s shoulder with a muffled sniffle, face burning with shame as he thought about how much effort it was going to take just to clean everything. How could he have been so silly?

“‘m so sorry.”

Ryker didn’t say anything for a moment, but Carlos could feel him wrapping his arms around his upper waist in a hug. He gladly leaned into him and sucked in a deep breath, trying to get rid of the sudden anxiety that was now looming over him. He just wanted to hide for the rest of the day, somewhere where he couldn’t embarrass himself further.

“I know it looks like a big mess right now,” the human eventually whispered as hooked his chin on Carlos’ shoulder. “...but I promise it’s not gonna take more than a few minutes to clean up, okay? We’ll give the floor a quick mop and wipe everything down, and I’ll put the bowl through the dishwasher for you. No one but us will even know it happened.”

He made it sound so simple. Like it didn’t have to involve beatings and punishments and all the things he’d been forced to endure for mistakes such as this. The thought that maybe he didn’t was almost enough to cause some irritation, but he was quick to stamp it out before it could get any worse. That was not the person he wanted to be, if he was going to be one at all.

“So, do we have a plan?”

Carlos gave a tentative nod and forced a smile, contentedly shutting his eyes when Ryker reached up to ruffle his rapidly-growing hair. “Yes,” he answered quietly, resisting the urge to make a small noise when the human stepped away to grab the metal bowl off the floor. He wrapped his arms around himself and shuffled on his feet a little, glancing down at the floor. “Thank you, sir.”

Between the two of them, it took them all of ten minutes to clean everything up. Ryker took to mopping the floor while Carlos wiped down the cabinets and changed out of his dirty clothes. His face was still red with embarrassment, but he felt better knowing that everything had been taken care of.

Ryker had even offered to help him remake the mixture, and it was as they were putting it in the oven that they heard the front door open, along with multiple sets of feet stepping inside.

Instinctively, Carlos grabbed hold of Ryker’s hand and held it a little too tightly in his own as the two exited the kitchen to greet them. His chest tightened and suddenly all he wanted to do was hide all over again.

That was until he noticed the red eyes of the shorter woman. Red eyes and the two pointed fangs that appeared each time she smiled.

No wonder they came so late in the evening.

For a moment, all Carlos’ manners seemed to fly out the window as he stepped forward and examined her through big, curious eyes. “You’re like me,” he whispered. “You- you’re a vampire, too.”

“Ah. You must be Carlos.” The vampire extended her hand with a warm smile as an invitation for a hand shake. “I’ve heard plenty about you.”

“This is Danny,” Adam informed him, resting a hand on his back as he verbally instructed him on how to shake hands. Carlos felt so awkward, particularly as he watched Ryker embrace who had to be Morgan without an issue. “Sorry I never told you. I figured it’d be a nice surprise if you ever got to meet her.”

Carlos shook his head, eyes flickering between Danny and Adam, and then to Ryker and Morgan. He was so happy to meet someone of his own kind after at least twenty years of living solely with humans.

“Would you like a hug instead?” Danny offered, opening both her arms as an invitation to step into them. Without hesitation Carlos accepted it, wrapping his arms around her neck and squeezing her as tight as he could. He hated how much speaking became a struggle when he got overwhelmed. “It’s nice to finally meet you, darlin’.”

Carlos quietly nodded against her shoulder, his voice slightly muffled as he spoke. “Yes, ma’am. It’s been so lo-ong since I got to meet another vampire. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

He was so happy. Not only was this a vampire, but she was a free vampire. Adam had said so himself, on the night his and Ryker’s friends came to visit. She was the very thing Carlos was trying so hard to adjust to. She was proof that it was possible.

Truth be told, he could have stood there for a lot longer than he was able to. It was only when Adam gently rubbed his back that he reluctantly released Danny from his grip and turned to look at his human with a small, red-faced smile.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against the sleeve he was pressing up against his mouth, suddenly conscious of how intense he’d been. “‘m sorry, sir.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. I’m glad it made you happy.” Adam reached up to ruffle his hair as he motioned towards the taller woman. She and Ryker were chatting amongst themselves, but they both looked up the moment they realised everyone had gone quiet. “This is Morgan.”

The vampire tilted his head, frowning. “Are you…?”

Morgan shook her head before he could get the rest of his sentence out. “Just a regular old human, unfortunately.”

“Humans are wonderful, too,” Carlos was quick to assure her, and he truly believed it. “My humans are my best friends. I like the- the nice ones very much.”

Much to his relief, she smiled. “That’s very kind of you. Sounds like the boys have been treating you very well, then, hm?”

“Yes!” he nodded enthusiastically, glancing over at Ryker for some sort of reassurance that what he was saying was okay. From what he could make out, nothing was wrong. He even had a smile on his face. “I love being here very much. I get daily meals and my own bedroom to sleep in, like humans do!”

Adam responded by giving him a gentle pat on the back. “You sure do, bud. Do you think you could help Morgan put her stuff by the bed?”

“Oh, no, I got it-”

Before she could protest further, Carlos had obediently followed his instruction and easily lifted both her bag and the bedding she was holding into his arms. It weighed virtually nothing to him anymore, and he was happy to feel a difference now that he was getting better. It wouldn’t be long before he’d get to experience the full capacity of his strength as a vampire for the first time in his life.

He gave Morgan a warm smile to try and ease the guilty look on her face. “It’s okay, ma’am! I like being helpful.”

“Well, thank you, Carlos.”

Without looking back at her, Carlos beamed at the recognition, no matter how small. Thank you. Such simple words, and yet they meant so much to him. It always made him want to be even more helpful.

“You’re welcome!”

Carlos was extra careful in the kitchen for the rest of the evening. Ryker watched amusedly as he gingerly made his way towards the oven and pulled the cake out with an oven mitt on both hand as to not burn himself. Once it was set on the kitchen table, he let out the deep breath he’d been holding in and pulled the mitts off with his teeth to set them neatly beside the cooling rack.

“Thank you for being so merciful about the mess I made, sir,” he whispered, purposely low enough that no one else could hear him confessing his accident out loud. He shuffled uncomfortably on his feet and took to fiddling with his fingers, glancing down at the ground to avoiding making eye contact with the human. “...and for helping me clean it up. I really am glad to be living here, with you and Adam and all these kind people that I get to spend time with.”

Ryker tilted his head with a smile, reaching out to ruffle the vampire’s hair again. “We enjoy having you here, too. Danny’s very excited to spend some time with you over the weekend.”

“Really?”

The human nodded. “Yeah, for sure. I think everyone’s gonna have an early night tonight, but Adam would like to take Morgan shopping tomorrow, so you’ll get plenty of one-on-one time with Danny then. Did she tell you she’s been around for over three hundred years?”

He couldn’t help but laugh when Carlos’ eyes blew comically wide. “Really? A-are- are Adam and Morgan-” There was a small pause as he struggled to find the right words. “I’m so sorry if this sounds mean, but is Danny related to them? How- how can they be sisters and brothers?”

“Not quite. I don’t think I’m the right person to talk to about the details, but she’s been a big part of their life since they were children. Not blood related, but still far better family than the people that were related to them.”

Carlos hummed, considering Ryker’s words for a moment. “Oh. I… I always thought family had to be related.”

“Not really.” Ryker cleared his throat and leaned against the bench before lightly touching the top of the cake to test how ready it was. “Family is whoever you feel safest around. That’s the rule I’ve always gone by, anyway.”

Once again, another few moments of consideration.

“...Does that mean you and Adam are my family?”

Ryker had to fight off the giddy grin that threatened to appear the moment he realised what Carlos meant. They’d been working so unbelievably hard to ensure that they were people Carlos could feel safe enough to confide in. It made him so happy to hear that it was working.

“We’d be honoured to be a part of your family,” he eventually responded. “You’ve already been a part of mine for far longer than I think you realise. It’s only fair that we be a part of yours, hm?”

The vampire smiled. “Yeah! Thank you, Ryker.” Then he hesitated, averting his eyes down to his feet once more before glancing back up again. Curiosity nearly had Ryker asking him what was wrong, but he managed to blurt out his thoughts before the question could come out. “I love you.”

Ryker didn’t even try to suppress the grin on his face anymore. “I love you, too, man.”

As far as Carlos could tell, everyone that ate it seemed to enjoy the cake. Danny didn’t, obviously, but between the three humans they were able to drain enough blood into two cups for the vampires to sip on, too. It wasn’t until the end that people praised him on its deliciousness, and his heart felt full as he took the empty plates back to the kitchen at the end of the night and stacked them in the dish washer for the next cycle.

I love you, too, man. The words repeated themselves more times than he could count throughout the night. He was just so happy. His younger self would never in a million years believed that he’d eventually find himself with a family. A family that loved and cared for him, and let him care for them in a way that wasn’t expected or demanded.

He wondered if that family would grow in time. If perhaps Charlie would become a part of his family, or Morgan and Danny. It was a nice thought, though if it remained the way it was in that very moment, he’d die a happy vampire.

Taglist: @alexkolax @emcscared-whumps @espresso-depresso-system @inkkswhumpandstuff @pigeonwhumps @pumpkin-spice-whump @roblingoblin285 @sacredwrath @some-thrilling-heroics @stabby-nunchucks @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @trans-writes @whump-blog @whumpsday @whumpshaped @whump-things @whumpycries @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @thekittyburger @choppedflowermuffinchild @whumpdreamz

#whump #whump stuff #whump things #whump tropes #whumpee #caretaker #multiple caretakers #anb stuff #whump thoughts #whump scenarios

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thewritingisconsumingme · 2 months

Text

cooking together

summary: shang tsung takes some time to cook with quan chi

warnings: none :)

Shang Tsung hummed as he foraged through the woods. Although he now had everything he ever needed working at Empress Sindel’s palace, he still enjoyed the activity of finding one’s own food. Besides, it provided a good way for Shang Tsung to determine the quality of the ingredients and that there was no poison within the food. The court may be enamored with his abilities and his practiced tongue, but he would be a fool to think that everyone liked him and wouldn’t try to rid the court of him. After all, he did come from humble roots, and some more than others did not appreciate peasant blood.

Picking the last of the mushrooms from the forest, Shang Tsung motioned for Quan Chi to follow him back to the palace. The man followed behind and watched over him. Shang Tsung was more than capable of protecting himself, but Quan Chi always insisted on accompanying the sorcerer on his trips to the wild just in case. And well, it bought them time alone with each other.

The sorcerer entered his laboratory and made his way to the kitchen. Washing off the dirt and grime from the various vegetables he collected from the forest, Shang Tsung passed them over to Quan Chi for him to cut into pieces. They worked together silently, a practiced routine of cutting and boiling and frying, and moved together in the kitchen as one unit. Soon enough, Shang Tsung put the lid onto the pan to wait for the vegetables to steam a little bit, and Quan Chi finished washing the cutting board and knives and set them up onto the drying rack.

Shang Tsung hummed when felt the other man place his head into the crook of his neck and wrap his arms around the yellow robes that the sorcerer usually sported.

“Be a dear and go check on the rice, won’t you?” Shang Tsung murmured as he leaned forward to open up the lid to check on the vegetables. Quan Chi obeyed, pressing a quick kiss to the shell of Shang Tsung’s ear, and went to check on the small pot of rice steaming in the corner. Shang Tsung focused on the pan in front of him, stirring the food around and spooning in an appropriate amount of salt to flavor the dish. Pouring in a small amount of water, Shang Tsung put the lid back on the pot and opened the cabinet above to rummage through the different seasonings. Unfortunately, the sauce he used to flavor just about everything was sitting just a little too deep in the cabinet, and Shang Tsung got up onto his toes, reaching to try and get the container.

A tanned arm reached behind him and pulled the jar off the cabinet, and Shang Tsung turned around to find Quan Chi smirking down at him. The sorcerer scoffed but took the jar from Quan Chi and turned around to hide the blush on his face. Quan Chi loved to flaunt his height over Shang Tsung as he was quite a bit taller than Shang Tsung, and the sorcerer would never admit it, but he loved how his partner could tower over him.

Adding in a rather large spoonful of the sauce, Shang Tsung stirred the vegetables around in the pot and smothered the fire underneath the pot and plated the food. Quan Chi took the jar of sauce and put it away into the cabinet a little higher than necessary and brought over two plates full of steaming rice to eat with the vegetables. They took the food to a small table in the far end of the laboratory and sat down across from each other. They ate in silence but kept their hands intertwined together.

Shang Tsung didn’t have to cook with Quan Chi, but the small moments like these made it all worth the effort.

#fluffuary2024 #fluff #noodle’s writings #mortal kombat #mk #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 #mk1 2023 #shang tsung #mk1 shang tsung #quan chi #mk1 quan chi #shang tsung x quan chi #quanshang

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oh-surprise-its-me · 8 months

Note

Roy/Jamie Prompt: Slight AU to S2 where Roy and Keeley aren't together. After both Jamie and Roy come back to Richmond. The lads are still mad at Jamie and Roy ignoring him does help matters, it starts to take a toll on Jamie. After he gets battered by the guys during training and Roy makes a deeply hurtful and insensitive comment, Jamie is pushed over the edge. He disappears during lunch and everyone's annoyed while Ted's got this horrid feeling. Will comes running in hysterical saying Jamie's up on the fucking roof, standing right at the edge. Ted goes running with everyone behind him. It's a horrific sight, and Jamie says some truly awful things about himself. Ted manages to distract Jamie while Roy and Beard sneak up and yank him back to safety. Before he passes out, Jamie looks up at Roy and says something like " Why can't I stop fuckin' lovin' ya?... you hate meh." Roy is completely shattered, everyone is guilt-ridden because they took it too far, Jamie flinches whenever any of them try to get close to him, Ted is triggered because of his dad. Roy's gonna feel guilty forever for contributing to someone actually not wanting to live anymore but he's determined to make the effort to earn Jamie's heart back for real, as is the team.

Jesus. Yeah alright I can work with that *rubs hands together*

tw depression obviously, and fast and loose probably unrealistic mental health repair.

Jamie is sitting on the floor of his house watching his mom cook. It’s been a long week, he forgot to take his meds for most of the week before, he hates when he does that. Never feels quite right. The guys treating him like he’s the same person he was when he left is horrible. He knows alright. He knows he sucks and is horrible.

He flashes back to the roof. God their faces.

God he told Roy he loved him.

He probably feels the worst about Ted though. Ted looked like he had seen a ghost.

There’s a knock at the door, “Jamie please, come on open the door I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Georgie goes and opened it. It’s Roy.

“Jamie is just now getting better, I shouldn’t let you see him but he said if you come by he’d want to see you.”

They walk back in, Roy sees Jamie sitting against the cabinets, he drops down to him even though Jamie knows his knee can’t take it. Georgie touches Jamie’s head on the way out, “be in the living room love.”

“I’m sorry.”

Jamie shakes his head, “you couldn’t have known.”

“Should’ve asked though.”

“All the guys wanna see you but I told them to wait until I asked if it was okay.”

Jamie curls his legs closer to his chest. “Depends on what they wanna say this time around.” Roy sits so he’s leaning against the island cabinet, they’re across from each other.

“I know how you feel. Which I know isn’t helpful but I get it.”

Jamie jerks his head up at that. He tilts his head. “After I knew I couldn’t play anymore I figured what’s here for me. Everyone liked soccer star Roy Kent. Not bum knee can’t run more then three miles Roy Kent. My sister snapped me out of it.”

“I never knew.”

Roy shakes his head, “no one did. Just like no one knew about you. And I’m sorry again.”

Jamie uncurls his legs, he takes a breath. “What about me saying I love you.” He has to know. Roy laughs, it’s a bit of a strained laugh. “Talked with my sister if she thought I could be bisexual, she smacked me and told me she assumed I was. Didn’t know I could like a guy. Didn’t know I was allowed.”

Jamie blinks. Oh. That’s not what he expected.

“So are you? Bisexual?”

Roy stretches his knee, it pops, “yeah, never really realized that’s what the feelings I had for a prick of a man who’s too good and too young for me.”

Jamie blinks again. Oh they’re doing this.

“I think I’ve loved you since I first put your poster up-” Roy cuts him off “while I appreciate the dedication please don’t tell me your specific age.”

Jamie crawls over to sit next to Roy. He reaches out and takes his hand. “We’ll be fine. I’ll be okay.”

Roy nods, “don’t do that shit ever again. I don’t think I can handle it.” Jamie realizes Roy has tears in his eyes. He wipes them away with his free hand. “I won’t don’t worry.”

They’ll be fine. It’s a long road but it’s one they have each other for.

#ted lasso #jamie tartt #roy kent #jamie x roy #royjamie #jamie tartt x roy kent #roy kent x jamie tartt #tw depressing thoughts and actions #thanks for the ask !!#stay safe y’all

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guess-my-next-obsession · 2 years

Text

Peña’s Anatomy: Chapter Twelve

pairing: doctor au!javier peña x resident!reader

chapter rating: E (public blowjob, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected piv, shower sex, period sex, talks of tumor/terminal illness, talks of medically advised abortions)

word count: 6.8k

series masterlist

“Morning, Chucho.” You were in the kitchen doing the dishes from the previous nights’ dinner and brewing some coffee when Javier’s father walked in.

Chucho went silent after the events of last night, dinner being shared in awkward tension as the three of you tried not to look at the empty fourth plate set beside the now single Peña. Neither of you two liked the idea of him being alone, and since you had the next day off, you both decided a sleepover would be nice—a show to his father that he wasn’t alone even if he felt like it.

“Morning, mija. Javi still asleep?” He walked over to the cabinet and pulled out three mugs, divvying up the coffee amongst them as you finished setting the final dirty dish on the drying rack.

“Yeah,” you replied, drying your hands and turning around to watch him carefully. “Are you…feeling alright?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me.” He gave you a soft but unconvincing smile, sucking in a deep breath. “Well, today’s the big swap-meet. Would you two like to come along?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. Let me go wake him up.” You knew that the older man wasn’t nearly as fine as he said he was, but no one deserved to be pestered about opening up when they weren’t ready—you of all people understood that well. So, you carried the two mugs up the stairs and into Javier’s childhood bedroom, your boyfriend shirtless, the sheet draped over his hip, his body sprawled out on the full sized bed.

“Javi, baby,” you gently nudged him awake as you sat at the edge of the bed by his pillow, your cup of coffee in your free hand, his waiting for him on the nightstand. Javier grumbled and tried to pull you into his arms but you successfully evaded his grasp in an effort to not spill the hot liquid all over yourself. “Your dad wants us to all go to the swap-meet together.”

“Tell him we’re busy,” he grumbled into the pillow, pulling another chuckle from you.

“Baby, come on. He’s lonely. He probably doesn’t want to think about everything, least we could do is help distract him.” Javier sighed and batted his eyes open, lifting his head to look at you.

“Is that coffee?” He asked grumpily, offended that you had some of the sweet elixir and he didn’t. You nodded and pointed to the mug on the nightstand, Javier perking up as he finally sat up with a stretch. “How does he seem today?”

“He said he’s fine,” you shrugged with a frown. “Maybe you and I should play matchmaker. Surely there’s other single women in Laredo.”

“I don’t even know what his type is. My mom was a gorgeous saint and Mrs. Montoya was an average looking cunt, so—it’s a toss up as to what the fuck he’s into anymore.” You swatted his stomach playfully, chuckling at his crassness.

“Maybe we could focus on personality first, then. Make sure he goes for someone you don’t think is a cunt.”

“You thought it too. Out there defending me,” he teased with a smile, pinching your cheek as you fought off a grin. “Thank you for that, by the way. I’m not used to people defending me. Not usually much to defend, I’m kind of an asshole.”

“You’re not so bad,” you assured, leaning over to peck his lips. “There’s a lot of good qualities buried behind that Peña glare and those tight jeans.”

“Oh, I know there’s one good quality behind my tight jeans. And you seem to love it,” he shot you a wink, pulling back the blankets to show you his rock hard bulge underneath his black briefs. “How much time do we have?”

“Javier,” you chuckled and lifted the blanket back over his lap. “I’m not having period sex with you in your childhood home.”

“Why? Younger Javi would be equally as up for it.” He smirked at you, reaching to cradle your jaw in his hand. “Just real quick, bebita. I’ll just put the tip in.”

“When we get home, you addict,” you assured as he tried to paw at your waist to get you to come closer, giggling at his persistence until he gave up with a frown.

“Ugh, fine. Instead of having a few mind blowing orgasms, let’s go to the swap-meet with my dad,” he grumbled as he climbed out from the blanket, giving you a pursed lip glare.

“So grumpy! You go 24 hours without an orgasm and turn into fucking Scrooge,” you teased as he tugged his clothes on from the night before, the spontaneity of your sleepover leaving you without a new change of clothes or even a toothbrush, but thankfully Javi found some mouthwash in his en-suite bathroom. After freshening up as best as possible, you reached for the doorknob to walk out but Javier grabbed you and spun you around instead, pulling you in close for a hug. You smiled at him as he leaned in, peppering your jaw and neck with kisses, his hands copping a feel through the denim of your jeans. “Mm, are you trying to seduce me?”

“Sí, bebita,” he hummed, his hands gripping your hips to pull you against the bulge in his jeans, a soft moan slipping from your lips betraying you. “C’mon, just bend over the dresser and let me make you cum. It’ll only take a second.”

“So confident,” you teased, all the while knowing that he had every right to be. It would only take him a second to have you coming undone, especially now that you were on your period, your hormones turning you feral. “I wish, but no. Your dad is waiting.”

“Fine,” he sighed and pulled away, choosing to kiss the breath out of you rather than beg again. “But the minute I get you alone,” he began, breathless and voice deep with desire. “I’m fucking you until you’re seeing stars, and that’s all we’re doing for the rest of the day. Okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded, finding it difficult to utter anything more than the simple word in response given the throbbing ache between your thighs and dizziness in your head. Javier smiled as he let you go, opening the door and walking right out like he hadn’t just started a wildfire of lust inside of you. You fanned yourself off and took a deep breath before turning on your heels and walking out to join the two Peña’s.

“Ready to go kids?” Chucho stood by the front door, as though he’d been waiting there since you left him to go deliver Javi’s coffee ten minutes ago. Javier chuckled at his father’s eagerness as he tugged on his boots and leather jacket, the early October air crisp as it filtered in through the now wide open front door. “I figure you can help me check out the livestock. I think we could use a few more cattle.”

“Sure, pops.” Javier held his hand out for you to take, his palm warm as you grasped it. “You, uh, feelin’ okay after yester—“

“We’ll just take the car,” he interrupted Javier’s concern, the two of you locking eyes and sharing a knowing look as his father walked around to the other side of his old sedan.

Javier leaned in to whisper to you as he opened the door to the backseat. “He’s in denial.”

“Well, what were you doing the day after we broke up? Hm? Were you eager to pour your heart out? I know I wasn’t.” You leaned up to peck his lips before sitting in the backseat, Javier frozen as he thought back to one of the worst times in his adult life. Without any preamble, he leaned down and cradled your jaw with both hands, delivering a searing kiss that had your breath stolen and mind hazy.

“I love you,” he reminded in a whisper meant only for you to hear.

“Can you leave her alone for a little and get in the car, mijo? It’s like dealing with teenagers,” Chucho grumbled from the driver’s seat, Javier reluctantly leaving you as you smiled at him. He shut your door before climbing into the passenger seat, slipping his hand back through the crack in his seat by the doors and offering it to you to hold. You smiled at his need for touch, gladly taking his hand in yours and rubbing the back of it with your thumb. “Have you ever been to a swap-meet, mija?”

“I’ve been to a couple flea markets, are they the same thing?” You asked, Javier and his father sharing a chuckle.

“Probably, just a little…louder.” Chucho and Javi looked at each other with amusement, your brows furrowing as you smiled in curiosity.

After a while, you pulled up to the giant dirt parking lot, packed with dust-covered trucks and cars even though it was just now turning 8 on the clock. Javier opened your door and helped you out with his hand, and you could tell by the way his hands never left you for a second that he was worried about you; whether it was your still testy ankle or your anxiety, you weren’t sure.

They hadn’t exaggerated. It was loud. Banda music played throughout large speakers set up around the entire perimeter of the fenced-in lot, large enough to be at least two football fields in size. The place was packed with people, all seemingly on a mission as they wandered through the different stalls like regulars—and they probably were.

Everyone here seemed to know everyone, and suddenly the thought that you knew almost no one began to stir something anxious inside of you. Sensing the early signs of a panic attack creeping in, Javier whispered something to his dad before taking you to a more quiet lane, the crowd having not yet dispersed to this section of the market.

“You okay?” He asked with a soothing hand rubbing your upper back, the two of you casually walking down the lane together. Stalls lined side by side selling large fleece blankets with images of lions and deer, some selling second-hand hardware, a few offering an assortment of kid’s stuff for incredible prices.

“Yeah, it’s just packed. Wasn’t expecting it to be so busy so early,” you kept your eyes on the passing stalls, slowly feeling that panic in you die and interest bloom inside you. Turning to look at Javier, you squeezed his hand in thanks. “Okay, I think I’m good to go back.”

“You sure?” He looked down at you, eyes bouncing between yours. You nodded and stopped him to turn back around, Javier reluctant to go back but another smile shot his way finally allowed him to believe that you’d be fine. “My dad’s going to the livestock show. You wanna go there or look around?”

“Let’s go with him.”

“Alright, I hope you like the smell of cow shit,” he warned with a smile, draping his arm over your shoulder and walking you to the back of the lot where a large pavilion sat, the sound of an auctioneer on a microphone triumphing over the music.

“What the fuck is he saying?” You covered your ears, wondering why it was louder than any concert you’d ever been to before you took a good look around at all the elderly men in the classic rancher outfit—one that looked awfully similar to Javi’s regular getup, aside from their cowboy hats, at least.

“He’s selling sheep right now,” Javi clarified as he found his father sitting at the top of a set of metal bleachers. He held your hand and walked with you up the stairs at your slowed pace, always there to catch you if you fall. Once you arrived to Chucho’s row, Javier leaned forward to speak to him over the speakers, helping you into your seat before sitting down himself.“Lucky’s loving it here, can’t you tell?”

“Ah, sí, mija? You wanna be an auctioneer one day or you just like the sight of old men and cow shit?” Chucho teased with a smile, leaning over his son to speak to you.

“How do you two understand any of this? He’s trying to sell something? How can anyone buy it if they can’t understand him?” The sound of loud babbling, English words quickly spat out together that you recognized a couple seconds after they were spoken blaring in your ears.

“We’ve got trained ears, bebita.” Javier wrapped both arms around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder, hugging you close to him. You leaned your head against his, his touch soothing in this overstimulating environment. Pulling a hand away from the vice grip he had on you, he pointed down at the dirt pit where the animals were being brought in. “There’s some alpaca’s.”

“Alpaca’s?” You squinted and sure enough, there they were. “Have I entered the twilight zone?”

“Basically,” he pecked the spot where the curve of your shoulder met your neck, a tingling desire building between your thighs. You turned your head so that your lips were right by his ear, placing a featherlight peck to it and watching as a boyish grin grew on his face.

“Alright, I’m gonna go down. Cows are next.” Chucho stood up with a grunt and walked down the bleachers, leaving the two of you alone.

“You trying to start something, Peña?” You asked, keeping your lips right by his ear. Javier squeezed you tighter and turned his mouth back to the exposed curve of your shoulder and neck, placing slow kisses all over your skin.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled between kisses, and you smiled at the playfulness in his voice. “If I start it, you gonna let me finish it?”

“Not until we get home,” you mocked his tone with a smirk, Javi giving you a playful bite in response.

You were well aware that you looked like two teenagers in love for the first time ever, but for once in your life, you didn’t seem to care about the amount of PDA you were caught showing with Javier. It used to make you uncomfortable if your ex-boyfriend tried any of this shit, even back in the honeymoon stage, but with Javier it only ever felt uncomfortable when you weren’t all over each other.

“Can we go look around at the stalls?” You asked breathlessly, trying to focus on remembering English with the way his lips never left you, his mustache tickling you with each painfully slow kiss pressed to your skin.

“Yeah,” he husked, one of his hands hugging your waist dropping to your hip and patting it before his head was pulling away. You stood up on wobbly knees, the throbbing between your thighs making you feel drunk as you walked with him down the bleachers. Javi stopped to tell his father where you were going off to before leading you back out of the pavilion and into the market. “What do you wanna look at, bebita?”

“Nothing, I just knew you were bound to try and finger me if we stayed up there,” you hugged his side and Javier chuckled as he placed a kiss onto the top of your head.

“You know me so well,” he smiled against you for a second before lifting his head up. “You thirsty? There’s lemonade, horchata, jamaica, agua frescas…you name it, they got it.”

“Well, you’re the expert around here. You pick and I’ll drink.”

A few minutes later, Javier was placing a styrofoam cup in your hands, the inside filled with a milky liquid, different from the cup he was holding filled with yellow juice that you assumed to be juice of some sort.

“That’s horchata,” he pointed at your drink before pointing at his own. “This is piña.”

“You know what they say about pineapple juice,” you smiled at him before taking a sip of your drink, the flavor surprising you. It tasted like Christmastime, cinnamon and some other hard to place creaminess that Javier would eventually tell you was rice milk.

“What do they say about pineapple juice?” He asked genuinely, sipping on his drink and surveying the crowd around you.

“Makes your cum taste sweet,” you spoke casually, watching his face as he turned to you with a wide eyed expression, pulling away from the straw with an open jaw. “Maybe we can go back to the car and test how quickly it takes effect?”

“Bebecita,” he blushed. “Don’t tempt me.”

“I’m not tempting, I’m offering.” Javier grinned, shaking his head at you as he laced his fingers with yours and practically ran with you towards the parking lot, the two of you giggling like a pair of kids the entire time.

When you finally reached his fathers sedan parked way in the back of the lot, Javier grinned down at you and spun you around, pressing your hips back against the car and caging you in. His hands rested on either side of your face as he leaned down to kiss you, soft and slow at first before the kiss deepened, his hands wandering down your sides until he was palming your ass through your jeans.

“Get in the backseat, bebita,” he ordered breathlessly as he pulled away from you and did a quick scan for people, the lot now seemingly empty. You crawled into the backseat and Javier was quick to join you, working the crank on the door to open the window so that he could stick his jacket in the crack to give the two of you more privacy.

“We gotta be quick,” you warned as you pulled him in for another kiss, your hand sliding down his chest and stomach to palm him through his jeans, Javier moaning softly into your mouth. You unzipped him and tugged him out, the rest of his clothes still very much on in case someone found the two of you and he needed to quickly cover up. Javier stroked your hair back as you leaned down to lick his swollen tip, keeping it out of your face as he whispered soft praises to you.

“You’re so beautiful,” you situated yourself so that you were still able to look up at him as you teased him with your tongue. “You know I love your mouth, but I can’t wait to fuck you properly baby. Make you cum for me until you can’t walk.”

“Promises, promises,” you husked with a smirk before taking him in deep, his cock sliding down your throat with familiarity. Javier let out a moan that went straight to your clit, your walls clenching around nothing at the mere sound of him being pleased.

“Fuck, yes,” his head was tipped back, lips parted as he moaned out freely. When you first met Javier, you never thought he’d be this vocal in bed, but god, did you love it. “So good, baby. Fuck, I love you.”

You hummed around him in response, his hips now bucking up into your throat and using you how he pleased. You never minded him taking what he needed from you, knowing that everything he took he’d give back tenfold later on.

“Fuck—gonna cum down your throat, baby. You want it?” He looked down at you, your head nodding as you stroked what your mouth couldn’t reach with your fist, Javier’s lips forming an ‘o’ as he neared his breaking point. “Fuck, you’re so fucking beautiful. Gonna fill your mouth up baby. Want you to take it all, okay?”

You could only hum against him, his eyes squeezing shut as his cock began to pulse down your throat, filling your mouth with his warm spend. You hummed at the taste, surely not as sweet as pineapple but distinctly sweet like him. He never tasted bad, and perhaps you could chalk that up to his healthy diet, but the cutesy part of you liked to believe that maybe he was just so sweet on the inside that it couldn’t help but come through in his seed as well. Either way, you swallowed him gladly, eyes locked on his face as he came back to earth. Javier smiled down at you lazily, combing your hair back lovingly as you finished cleaning him up.

“You’re good at that, you know?” He complimented as you sat up, wiping your mouth.

“I think you just have a crush on me,” you grinned back, watching him tuck himself back into his jeans and zip them up.

“Well, you’re not wrong,” he reached over and pinched your chin. “I love you.”

“And I love you.” He pulled you in by the chin, placing a chaste kiss to your lips before seeing his father walking towards the car.

“Just in time.” He chuckled, your eyes turning to watch as Chucho opened the driver’s door, gasping when he saw the two of you already inside.

“Dios mío, almost gave me a heart attack.” He clutched his chest and chuckled as he sat down, turning on the engine. “Was it too much for you, mija?”

“Huh?” You asked with wide eyes and a flush on your cheeks, Javier chuckling to himself as he watched you.

“The swap meet.”

“Oh,” you now understood why Javier found your reaction so funny. Looking back to your still blissed-out boyfriend, your smirked. “Yeah, it was a lot. But I think I handled it well.”

“Yes, you did,” Javi confirmed with a knowing grin.

“Alright, we ready to go then?” Chucho asked, bringing you both out of your filthy fantasy land and back to reality. Javier nodded, grabbing his jacket out of the window and walking around to the passenger seat.

•••

“Did you, uh,” Javier cleared his throat, the huskiness from his pleasure still too woven into his voice for his comfort. “Did you buy any cattle?”

“Just one, gonna be dropped off tomorrow.” Javier nodded, glancing back at Lucky with the slightest of smiles playing on his lips. “Hey, do you remember Yvette Rodriguez? I think her and her husband used to run 4-H back when you were in it.”

“Oh, yeah.” Javier nodded, brows furrowing slightly as he tried to place the pair in his memory.

“She came over and started talking to me after you two went off. I guess her husband ran off with some twenty-something year old.” Javier looked back at Lucky with an intrigued look, watching as she urged him on to ask more questions.

“He’s gotta be, what, at least sixty?” Javier asked, now dealing with his girlfriend’s insistence on becoming his father’s wingman.

“At least. Feel bad for her,” Javier couldn’t help but smirk at his father. He knew Chucho wasn’t the type for gossip or talking about people he didn’t have an interest in, and he began to wonder how long his father had been eyeing up the eligible bachelorettes of Laredo.

“You know, pops…that just means she’s on the market, right?” Javier looked back at Lucky and she gave him a thumbs up and an affirming nod. “Why don’t you ask her out for coffee? Or whatever people do at your age.”

“Ah, no se. Not the right time for all that, mijo. Her husband just left, she probably doesn’t want—“

“She did come up to you, didn’t she?” Lucky chimed in, a smile growing on Chucho’s face at the memory. “I’d say that at least means she wants a friend. And friends can turn into—“

“Why are you two so invested in my love life all of a sudden?” He asked, looking over at his son.

“Papá, sólo quiero que seas feliz.” Javier spoke softer, guilt from his father’s very recent breakup overwhelming him a bit. “You deserve it. Mamá would want you to find someone.” [Dad, I just want you to be happy.]

“Mamá…” He whispered to himself, breaking Javi’s heart. “I don’t know, I’ll have to think about it. Maybe when I see her at church…I could ask her to come to the diner with me after.”

“Yeah, pops.” Javier nodded and pat his father’s shoulder. “I think that’s a good idea.”

Javier knew that this wouldn’t happen overnight. He was every bit his father’s son, and he could tell from his own reluctance to put himself out there that his father would need to ease in to the dating scene, but he couldn’t help but start to feel happy for the man. It was long past time that he found someone to share the rest of his life with, and although the prospect initially worried Javi, he was now able to see past his devotion to his mother. Chucho was a lonely man, and anything Javi could do to solve that, he would.

•••

It was around three in the afternoon when the two of you finally said your goodbyes to Chucho, the two of you giving him a hug before piling into the truck with McCartney in tow, the pup worn out after his day on the ranch. You sat right next to Javier, your head on his shoulder, his hand on your thigh, the windows down and the radio up. Reaching to turn the music down, you bit your lip as you turned to Javier, a chuckle leaving his lips at the sight of your grin.

“Que te pasa, bebe?” He reached over and pinched your cheeks together with a bitten grin.

“Nothing,” you spoke through fish lips, Javier letting go of your face to pinch your chin. “Do you ever wonder where your life would be if you never met me?”

“What?” He asked in a chuckle, furrowing his brow at you in curiosity. “No, I very actively try to avoid that thought.”

“Well, what do you think you’d be doing right now?” You persisted in your meaningless musings, poking his thigh.

“A nurse.” He answered with no hesitation, earning a gasp of shock from you, Javier smirking. “What? It’s the truth. If I never met you, I’d definitely not be going down to Laredo this often, definitely wouldn’t be actually enjoying my days off—I’d probably just be at the hospital, fucking some nurse in an on-call room.”

“You ever miss those days?” You asked with genuine curiosity, Javier shaking his head and lifting the back of your hand up to his lips to kiss it.

“Fuck no.” He placed another kiss to you hand before dropping it back to your lap. “What about you? What would you be doing back home?”

“Probably being forced into a tense family dinner, my boyfriend that I have no feelings for beside me ready to take me home and give me the worlds most lackluster sex—“

“Alright, I don’t need a visual,” he grumbled, making your smile spread wider as a sinful thought popped into your mind. Your hand ran up and down his thigh as the two of you arrived into the city, knowing that there was only about twenty minutes between now and your arrival to his home.

“Probably be daydreaming about a man who could make my legs shake…make me forget my own name,” your voice was thick with seduction, Javier turning to glance at you with an unreadable expression. “Someone that can make me cum over and over…like you.”

“Yeah? I make you feel that good?” He asked, glancing over once more and you could now see that his unreadable expression was simply one of primal desire. “No one makes you feel as good as I do, huh, bebita?”

“No one,” you shook your head and palmed him through his jeans, Javier hissing at the contact before feeling your hand snake up his torso to his mouth, your fingers tracing his bottom lip. “Only that cock and this mouth know how to make me feel that good.”

“You forget about something?” He raised an eyebrow, trying to keep his eyes on the road but it was clearly a feat with the way you were working him up. His hand slid up from your knee to the valley between your thighs, rubbing over the seam in your jeans to stimulate your clit.

“Fuck, and these hands.” You lifted his fingers to your mouth, sucking on them and watching as his jaw dropped.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mumbled to himself. “As soon as we get home, you’re coming in the shower with me and I’m gonna make you cum until you can’t fucking stand, baby.”

And that, he did.

“Oh!” Javier respected your request for no oral, still getting warmed up with the whole idea of period sex, but that didn’t stop him from using his hands and cock on you, your back pressed against the cold wall of the shower. He grinned as he curled his fingers in and out of you at a brutal pace, targeting that sensitive spot inside of you that practically had his name carved into it by now.

“You fucking hear that, bebita?” He husked as his lips hovered by the shell of your ear, shushing you so that you could hear the wet squelch of your pussy squeezing his fingers. “So wet. That’s my favorite fucking sound, you know that? Your perfect pussy squeezing me.”

“Javi, fuck…I’m gonna cum again,” you warned through a mewl, your hands clutching onto him so hard that you were leaving marks. Javier pressed his lips to your ear, letting out shaky breaths and soft grunts.

“Cum for me,” he urged, his fingers pulling another white-hot climax from you as though it was their entire purpose. Your head tipped forward to bury in the nook of his neck, your body seizing up and clinging to him for dear life as your orgasm shook through you. “Sí, bebita. So beautiful, so good for me…and that was just the fourth one. You want another?”

“Oh, fuck...” you mumbled against his warm skin at his sinful promise, the idea of more climaxes reigniting the fire inside you. “More, give me more.”

“Yeah? Feeling greedy tonight?” He asked through a rasp, gripping your chin and tipping your jaw back so that your head was leaning against the wall, his eyes taking in your fucked-out state for the first time since he started fingering you. He grinned like a devil as he held your jaw in his hand, keeping you in place as he placed a few teasing pecks to your kiss-swollen lips. “So fucking beautiful when you’re greedy like this. Gonna make you cum again in here and then I’m gonna fuck you out there until neither of us can take any more. What do you think about that, bebita? You want my cock that bad?”

“Fuck, yes…I fucking need it, Javi,” you whined, your eyes desperate as you looked at him, the throbbing between your thighs almost painful. “Please give me it, I need it.”

“You need it?” He slid his hand down your stomach to your clit, his jaw slack at how swollen it was, your pulse beating against his fingertips. When he circled it, your entire body shook and face scrunched up in desperation, his cock twitching as it rested against your hip. “Fuck, I fucking need it too.”

Javier turned you around, your chest pressing against the wall and ass sticking out into the stream of hot water. He moaned as both palms gripped your cheeks, spreading you open as his cock slid into you without any aid from his hands. You both cried out at the tight squeeze, your walls fluttering around him in an aftershock of your last orgasm. When Javier didn’t immediately start to move, you felt needy and desperate, rocking your ass forward and back against him to get some stimulation.

“Fuck…yes, baby,” he growled, a wet slap of his hand against your ass echoing in the shower. “Use my cock, baby girl. That’s it. Take it how you need it, my beautiful fucking girl.”

“Fuck, Javi, you’re so deep,” your brows were furrowed as you fucked yourself on him, hands pressed against the wall to give you leverage. Javier smacked your ass a few more times, his groans loud and proud as you worked him at a needy pace. “Fuck me, Javi. Wanna feel it.”

“Yeah?” He leaned over your arched back to whisper in your ear, his arms wrapping around your waist to hug you close, his stubbly cheek nuzzling between your shoulder blades. He was grinding in impossibly deep, one of your hands slinking down to rub your clit as you began to feel your climax build again. “You like it deep and slow like this, baby?” He suddenly switched paces, pounding up into you quicker and rougher, your moans now turning into cries as the tension in your belly began to snap. “Or you like it when I fuck you like this? When you can’t even catch your breath?”

“I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m—oh god!” Your cheek pressed against the wall as you lost your mind at his mercy, your entire body taken over by an unexplainable euphoria. Javier placed kisses on your spine as his thrusts slowed, his cock slipping out and painting your ass like a Jackson Pollock painting just for the fun of it.

“Jesus,” he husked out, his hands running over the mess he made on your ass to admire it before washing it off. With a lazy grin, you looked back at him, flushed and chest heaving, a matching grin growing on his face as he noticed your stare. “Fuck. That was hot.”

“Yeah, it was,” you turned around on shaky legs, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to pull him in for a sweet kiss, nothing like what the two of you were just up to. “I seem to remember you telling me you were going to fuck me until I couldn’t stand?”

Javier nodded, leaning back to look at you with a knowing smirk.

“Well…I’m still standing.”

“Did you come from heaven or hell? I can’t decide.” He joked, earning a giggle as the two of you stood in the stream enjoying each other’s post-climax drowse. “You mind if we take a nap before I fuck you again? I may have slightly overestimated my endurance.”

“A nap sounds good,” you pecked his lips softly. “As long as I’m getting more dick tonight.”

“You’re getting a lot more dick tonight, bebita. Don’t you worry.”

•••

A Week Later

Javier was standing in an x-ray room, leaning back against a desk, arms folded while staring at a few scans hanging on the light board on the wall. He was tapping his pen against his chin when Lucky walked up the the nurses station just outside the room, his eyes doing a double take, lips curling up into a soft, almost undetectable smile as he watched her laugh at something Mickey was saying.

“You paged me?” Steve stepped into the doorway and blocked his view, Javier’s tongue clicking in annoyance and hand gesturing for him to move out of the way. Steve furrowed his brows and looked behind him, rolling his eyes once he saw what Javier was so captivated by. “Y’all practically live together. You don’t get enough of her at home, or what?”

“Never get enough of her,” he spoke under his breath, as though it was a mantra.

“Alright, lover boy. What did you page me for?” Javier sighed and begrudgingly took his eyes off her and back to the scans on the wall, pointing at them. Steve turned to them, his eyes widening as he took in the complex way the tumor had almost wrapped its way completely around the brain stem. “Jesus.”

“Close the door,” Javier spoke softly, his eyes on Lucky right up until the door closed. “Guess who.”

“Someone we know?” Steve’s brows were laced together as he turned back to the scans, studying them even more intensely.

“Yeah,” Javier sighed and ran his hand over his face.

“Well, you gonna spit it out—“

“It’s Mickey.” Javier watched as Steve slowly began to understand the situation—the weight of it. “A few weeks ago, Mickey had started to develop some symptoms and she consulted me about it. I convinced her to let me take her up to CT, just take a look. Thought it was gonna be something simple, but…”

“It’s inoperable, right? Or close enough that no sane surgeon would try it.” Steve breathed out, Javier nodding as he rubbed his chin, eyes looking at the door knowing that behind it stood the woman in question standing there with Lucky.

“Was hoping you were gonna tell me I’m wrong…that there’s a way.” He hung his head, unsure of how on earth he’d go about telling Mickey, the thought of telling Lucky not able to be bared quite yet.

“It would take Jesus Christ himself to pull that off, Jav.”

Both men snapped to attention at the sound of the door opening, Lucky poking her head in with a smile. Javier couldn’t help but smile back at her, tipping his chin towards her to ask what’s up.

“Just heard you have a pretty gnarly tumor,” she started to walk in but Javier held his hand out, her smile faltering a bit at the rejection but chuckling nonetheless. “Come on, Jav. Just because I’m not on your service doesn’t mean I can’t try to help out.”

“Lucky, go make sure Mr. Brannigan is prepped and briefed for his surgery tonight,” Steve stepped in, sensing Javier’s predicament and lack of ability to tell Lucky to leave.

“Yes, sir.” She gave them both an annoyed glare, her eyes lingering on her boyfriend’s as she walked out of the room, shutting the door harder than necessary on the way out.

“I’m gonna have to do a lot of fucking apologizing to make up for that,” Javier grumbled, the heels of his palms rubbing his eyes. “What the fuck, man? She just lost Rose three months ago. Now I have to tell her pregnant best friend, our friend, that she’s got probably two years left—if she terminates the pregnancy, that is. If not—maybe, what, one? Less than that?”

“You gotta start by talking to the patient, Jav. If Mickey wants to tell her, she can tell her, but you’re a doctor right now. Not a friend, not a boyfriend, a doctor.” Javier nodded, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he listened to his friend. “I’ll tell Mickey to come in here, and you just gotta…do your job. Once that’s over, then you can freak out.”

“Yeah,” he nodded again, Steve leaving the room, Mickey taking his place a few moments later.

“This can’t be good,” she sighed as she walked in, her eyes flickering to the scans hung up on the light board, her hand covering her mouth and a gasp slipping past. “Oh, fuck, it’s really not good.”

“We can treat you, Mick. Give you a little longer—“

“How little are we talking? Five years? Ten?” She asked, Javier’s sorrowful eyes bringing a tear to her own. “How long?”

“A couple years or so,” he paused before continuing. “If you terminate—“

“No, Javier. I’m not—“ She started to pace around the room, hyperventilating as she rubbed her pregnant stomach. Javier stood up and walked to her, holding her by the shoulders to keep her still. “I’m not doing it. I don’t care.”

“Take your time, think about it and we can—“

“No.” She shook her head and turned around, storming out and leaving him alone without another word.

Javier had successfully avoided the love of his life all night long, knowing that if she were to stand in front of him and ask him what was happening he’d just spill it all out, breaking HIPPA and her heart in one go.

Needing sleep between surgeries, he snuck into his favorite on-call room—the one that he and Lucky had first gotten together in—proud that it was already two in the morning and he just had four hours to go until Lucky was forced to go home from her shift and give him a bit of reprieve from his constant fear of spilling the beans. But just as he laid his head on his pillow, the door opened.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” she accused with playfulness in her tone, but he could hear the underlying anxiety. Climbing on top of him in the bunk, she straddled his hips, rubbing at his chest through his navy scrubs. “Thought we’d gotten over this, hm?”

“Baby,” he sighed, his hands covering his face and rubbing at the wrinkles years in the medical field caused. “I’m tired.”

“Hey, what’s going on? Is there something wrong? Did I do something?” He removed his hands and placed them on her thighs, furrowing his brow and shaking his head at her adamantly. “Then why are you acting so weird?”

“I’m not acting—“

“Javier,” she scolded with a head tilt, knowing his tells far too well to believe his little lie. “Tell me.”

“I can’t,” he breathed out, his eyes dropping to her lap as his fingers drew circles over her scrub pants.

“Yes you can,” she insisted with an equally delicate voice, his already pathetic willpower fading with every passing second in her presence. “Please, Javi.”

Damn it, she was using that voice. He knew if he lifted his eyes he’d also be met with the most round, puppy eyed look in the world. One that always seemed to get him to bend to her will. One that he never minded because he had his own version of the look and used it at every opportunity, too.

“I want to tell you, I do, but…HIPPA—“

“So someone’s sick?” She prodded, Javier lifting his eyes to hers. Somehow, she spotted something in them that made her gasp under her breath. “Someone I know?”

“Stop,” he pleaded, but she shook her head.

“Who’s sick, Javier?” He closed his eyes, hoping that if he wished hard enough he could rewrite reality to rid this woman on top of him of all her pain for good. “Tell me.”

“Mickey—“ He blurted out, looking as shocked as her at the quick admission. “I’m not gonna say anything else. If you wanna know more, talk to Mickey.” He found his firmness finally, but as always, he still carried a gentleness whenever he spoke to her.

“Is it bad?” She asked, the wavering of her voice telling him she already knew the answer.

“Talk to her,” he lifted her knuckles to his lips, kissing each one. Lucky nodded, swallowing her anxiety down though he knew it was far from gone. “I need to get some sleep. Will you stay here with me, bebecita?”

She nodded again, leaning forward to lay her head on his chest. Javier pressed a kiss to her head and rubbed her back, his eyelids heavy as he felt the fast pounding of her heart slow to a steady, calm rhythm.

“I’m sorry this keeps happening to you.” He whispered to her after a few minutes, thinking that she was fast asleep on top of him.

“Don’t ever die, Javi. Or get sick. Or anything else that could take you away from me.” She mumbled against him but he understood the orders well. With another peck to the crown of her head, he hummed.

“Nothing’s gonna take me away from you without a fight, bebita. Nothing.”

•••

taglist: @infesstisssumam @outlawedmando @ajeff855 @wildemaven @axshadows @sherala007 @browneyes-issac @tooflef @mariasabana @tae27 @kimm4710 @stxrrylunatic @sara-alonso @paulalikestuff @mandomover @chxpsi @auberosier @mashomasho @vanemando15 @wickedmunson @marvel-sw-lover @jediknight122 @harriedandharassed @star-wars-fan-2005 @alwaysdjarin @jalobro @trickstersp8 @mccn-bcys @manuymesut @trinkets01 @tanzthompson @jlmaddinson @golden-library @ayoungpascallover-readings @ziggyrocket @pasckles @mrsparknuts @dodgerandevans @medusaandposeidonshead @pastelnap @mando-amando @notyourlovemonkey @psychesreads @oncasette @laureliciousdefinition @notyourlovemonkey @peachyaeger @pedropascalsx @wheresarizona @berriesarepunk (sorry if your tag isn’t working!)

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #javier peña smut #javier peña x reader #pedro pascal smut #javier peña x y/n #narcos fanfiction #javier peña fluff #javier peña #javier peña angst #javier pena #javier pena fic #javier peña x you #peña’s anatomy

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ff7-has-taken-me-over · 1 year

Note

Look I’m soft and I cannot handle angst with my boys 😭

So I’m changing the subject with a prompt I had soap being short and the struggles that come with it

I can imagine soap having to ask to get something off like the top self since he can’t reach (neither can I lol) and when he needs something from like a high self he’ll go on someone shoulders. Ghost (obviously) is like the first person he goes to because as much as he tease him he’ll help him with no problem ( ghost just likes soap thighs around his neck) but there are other that will help him (König , Alejandro, Rudy, etc they too like soap thighs around their neck) ghost doesn’t like that so he’ll always offer to carry soap anytime even when it’s not needed (soap thinks it’s cute) sometimes soap show that he can still get stuff with or without help (ghost finds his smile adorable after he gets what he reach for.)

Price actually is the one who puts stuff down where soap can reach so he doesn’t hear about all the nosebleeds, passed out men, or red, flustered faces soap cause just because he accidentally tightened his thighs against their neck

I love putting them through pain sometimes. It’s so much fun. But this was both hilarious and too cute and I got very carried away with it 😅

I can literally see Soap climbing the cabinets and shit to get things up high because he doesn’t wanna bother anyone and it’s too much effort to grab a seat and use that. Nobody knows he does this though since he does it when nobody else is around because he knows they’ll all make fun of him for being short.

So the first time Ghost walks in and sees Soap, half up a cabinet, precariously balancing on the open door and bench while reaching for a container, he just about shits a brick 😂 he full on, freaks tf out and speed walks over only to lift the man from the cabinets and put him back on the floor.

Soap’s upset and embarrassed and Ghost is wildly exasperated but he’s also so soft for those sad eyes and pout that he just offers to boost the man up on his shoulders. Johnny still looks reluctant but ends up accepting, embarrassment quickly dying and being replaced with excitement at being so tall.

And if Ghost finds that he loves having the man’s thighs around his head and is totally unbothered when Johnny asks if he can stay up there a little longer? Well that’s his business.

The next time Soap needs help Ghost isn’t around but König is, and the sergeant would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious about how it would feel to be even taller than what he was on Ghost’s shoulders.

The Austrian has no issue helping the man out, letting him up and smiling under the mask when he’s met with an excited little laugh and the man’s thighs squeezing a little tighter around his head. He can see why so many people would gush about wanting their heads to be crushed by big thighs.

Rudy ends up doing it because: 1) Gaz refused to do it and 2) Soap nearly cracked his head open when his foot slipped off the shelf. And he’s gotta say, he would happily die there, between those glorious thighs, with a half hearted apology to Alejandro for leaving him behind.

Of course Alejandro had to do it because Rudy kept ranting about how divine it was and how they should try and introduce Soap into their dynamic in some way. So of course he had to see what all the fuss is about. But when Soap needs help reaching something Ghost is there and won’t let anyone else help the man, even though there are some very enthusiastic volunteers for the job.

In the end Alejandro decides to just pick the man up of his own accord, completely ignoring the glare Ghost sends him in favour of relishing in the way Soap’s thighs squeeze tight in his panic to stay upright. Yes, him and Rudy would have to figure out a way to bring Soap into their dynamic. Ghost and his jealousy be damned.

Price has seen pretty much all of these instances and he’s so over all these men fawning over his pseudo son’s thighs. If he had it his way, everything would be stored down low so all those tall bastards would have to bend down to get things. But then that might cause a whole new problem since Soap didn’t crouch when he needed things from down low.

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booburry · 7 months

Text

Echoes in Time Chapter 4: A Star is Born

Chapter Summary: A day of hot and cold between Mallory and Sam leaves them with a clearer path forward and a renewed determination from Sam. WC: 9,988 - sorry (not sorry?). But hey! I managed to keep it under 10k lol

CW: Accidental nudity, emotional angst, they be smoochin', game spoilers

A/N: Thank you all for your patience with this one! As you see it's a long one, but I couldn't cut anything out and I didn't want to end it abruptly either, for the sake of keeping it shorter. I will try to keep chapters within the realm of 6.5k to 8k but sometimes the words just roll. I hope you all enjoy

The idea that Mallory’s mood could have gotten worse from the moment she admitted to ‘outing’ herself as a time-travelling ‘alien’ would seem improbable to impossible.

Unfortunately, as if struck by bad luck, it did.

It’s those damn Coes and their stupid book. Mallory grumbled within herself as she put on her socks before getting out of bed to get dressed for the day. She laid out some clothes on her bed, her sheet and blanket messily bunched up from her active sleeping—she never stayed still.

She was pondering over two options when, unexpectedly, there was a light knock on the door.

“One moment!” Mallory called out, upset and anxious that she suddenly felt rushed to decide what she was going to wear.

“Yup, no problem...” Sam called out, elongating his ‘o’. Mallory instinctively grabbed a blanket to cover her exposed parts despite there being no way he could see her.

It would also be a lie if Mallory claimed the idea of only a panel of wood standing between Sam and her didn’t also excite her—her mind compulsively jumping into the deep end of that fantasy, losing herself until she heard Sam clear his throat from the hallway.

“I just put on my socks!” Mallory called out, rushing to pick an outfit and frustratingly finding that now knowing he would be the first to see her left Mallory wishing to put more…effort into her choices.

It also just made her anxiety rise and her executive function vanish.

“Okay,” Sam called out, Mallory smiling as she just pictured him slightly rocking back onto his heels with his hands in his pockets.

Naturally, she reached up to grab Sam’s necklace only to realize it wasn’t there. Without hesitation that became Mallory’s next goal, but she couldn’t seem to find it. Clothes were flying, pillows, blankets and sheets were tossed off the bed, drawers and cabinets dramatically being opened and shut.

“Hey, you okay?” Sam asked with a great amount of concern, probably at the sudden, and loud, sounds from within her room.

Mallory immediately felt as if her stomach was about to fall out of her ass as she realized, before being able to fully act, that Sam was about to walk in and see her wearing nothing but a pair of fuzzy socks.

“Sarah is wa—"

And boy did he.

“aaaaauuhh…mn.” Sam let out a prolonged, strained, sound that Mallory—if she were not frantically leaping over her bed to grab the sheet she threw to the side—would have teased him for relentlessly.

“Would you—” Mallory started to speak as she almost fell to the ground to roll herself into some amount of fabric. “Close the door!?” She called out to him, expecting him to walk out but the man, either in his confusion or boldness, stepped in and closed the door behind him.

His eyes were firmly on the floor.

“So…you, uh, put your socks on first, huh?” He slowly asked, obviously calculating a million things in his head as he sputtered out the words. Mallory felt her toes curl in as she stood up to tightly wrap the sheet around herself, ensuring it had zero chance of falling off.

“I don’t like the feeling of my bare feet touching things, okay?” Mallory defensively stated, feeling embarrassed by her quirks before immediately reminding herself of the complete invasion of her space, flashing a scorching glare at Sam. He didn’t see, of course, as his eyes were still glued to the floor. “Since when do you just walk in?”

“I—” Sam still wouldn’t look at her, which Mallory told herself was good, but god she also desperately wished he would. “You said socks…and then the noises…I, uh, I—” He tried to continue but still fell short. “I panicked.” He finally admitted, causing Mallory to feel a sudden urge she couldn’t resist.

“We’ll have to work on that.” She told him, mocking the words he had just used yesterday when she admitted she similarly panicked in a moment of high stress. But, despite the tone Sam may have used in themoment before, Mallory decided to say it with a slight, completely unfair, adjustment.

She pitched her voice deeper, making an effort to sound breathy while ensuring her words flowed together like silk and honey. She saw Sam’s chest pop out with a sudden and short exhale but the rest of his body was like stone.

“That’s…so cruel.” He told her, a light shake to his head, his face hidden behind his hat but Mallory knew how wide his smile was and the exact shade of crimson present on his cheeks from the tone he spoke in.

“You subjected yourself to this torture when you walked in here,” Mallory informed him with a matter-of-fact tone, losing herself in the moment. “It’s only fair I get even.” Sam chuckled.

“This is even?” He asked, suggesting as if what she was doing to him was much worse than what he just did. Maybe he said it because he did his by accident, while Mallory was, enjoyably, torturing the man intentionally.

But still…he should learn to never walk into a lady's room.

“Do I need to remind you what you saw?”

“No.” Sam quickly said. “No, no no.” He repeated yet Mallory saw his hat slowly lift. “Uhm—” Immediately back down. “Yeah, no.” He confirmed.

“So, I’ll take that as a ‘no’.” Mallory laughed, finding it both endearing and irresistible how he was right now. “Now, turn around and don’t look—please.” She quickly added the last request, her other part becoming present and in contention with her bolder self, reminding her to not come off as bossy, impolite or being too demanding.

Sam just deeply chuckled.

“I would have preferred it if you just demanded me to.” He slowly glanced up at Mallory, who became immediately self-conscious about how tightly she had wrapped her sheet around her body. His eyes lingered, but at least he didn’t try to hide it, and he ensured to give Mallory a smirk and a playful, pronounced, wink.

“Turn.” She said with a laugh. “Around.” And continued with a teasingly annoyed tone while raising an eyebrow at Sam—a suppressed smile pushing its way forward as her heart beat against her chest. Sam just smiled and closed his eyes.

“Mmmn,” he hummed as he immediately obeyed, “yeah…that’s much better.” He encouraged her, the rumble of his voice more pronounced, his tone taunting.

It seemed that Sam had decided to fight just as dirty in the game Mallory had started. His eyes looked towards the ceiling, Mallory’s gaze immediately being drawn to the pronounced curve of his strong neck.

“You’re so bad!” Mallory said with a laugh before realizing how the words she chose would be easily used against her when said to a person like Sam Coe.

She heard him hiss in a sharp inhale, a moment of silence and then…nothing.

“You alright?” She asked, with a small amount of concern that she had broken his ‘witty bone’.

“Yeah—well…no, but,” Sam paused another moment, Mallory truly starting to worry she had broken the man, “I wouldn’t change a thing. I just…can’t…really think, right now.” He slowly stated as his head leveled out and he awkwardly adjusted his posture. Mallory smirked.

“Blood rushing elsewhere?” She quickly asked.

“You could say that, sure.” Sam quickly responded, his head flinching for a moment, as if to look at her, before remembering her request—or as he, apparently, preferred: command. “Are you getting dressed, or are socks and a sheet your outfit for the day?” He asked, Mallory smiling as he seemed to regain his composure.

Leaning into the mischievousness Sam brought out in her, Mallory planned to drop her sheet at Sam’s feet, but something caught her eye that pulled her right from this moment.

The book of Solomon Coe laid open on her desk, on the page with the photo that had completely shattered Mallory’s world last night, and did once again in this moment.

“Just a moment.” Mallory responded, all of her cheek and tongue erased from her being.

“You alright?” Sam immediately asked, dropping the back-and-forth exchange they were enjoying for a tone of concern. “I’m sorry if I went too far—”

“It’s not you, Sam.” Mallory reassured him but she knew the way she spoke would only cause for more concern, but she couldn’t help it.

She threw on the closest things, the patterns and colours clashing but she couldn’t give a care in the world as she flashed another glance at that cursed book before walking towards the door.

“You said Sarah is waiting?” Mallory asked as she walked in front of Sam and grabbed onto the door.

“I tried to, yeah.” Sam calmly stated, no doubt watching Mallory closely to understand her sudden switch off. Mallory didn’t respond as she opened her door to see Sarah waiting in the hallway.

“You two aren’t making it entirely discreet, are you?” She asked, her voice and tone sending only one message: disappointment. “I’ll make it quick then.” She added, pushing herself off from the wall she leaned against. “I’ve thought about it a lot and I agree with your plan Mallory—I will leave it for you to execute and bring me the final review of the questions. If anything changes from what you originally proposed, I need to know immediately—do you understand?” Mallory nodded vigorously, having previously experienced being spoken to like this from a boss but there was something about Sarah’s delivery that just made everything seem more…stern. “Good, I will go speak with this…Nada and arrange a meeting with you two within New Atlantis to arrange the terms.”

“You can’t be serious.” Sam’s stated, the rough edges to his voice more noticeable than usual.

“Oh, but I very well am, Sam.” Sarah retorted, her gaze challenging him to continue to protest.

Which he did without hesitation, stepping through the door frame to stand between Mallory and Sarah.

“It’s not a good idea.” Sam continued his protest despite Sarah and Mallory seeing eye-to-eye on the matter.

“I think it’s for the best.” Mallory tried to reassure him but as soon as he looked at her, she immediately knew her words could not penetrate whatever it was that was blinding him in this moment.

“It’s not safe, you will put yourself in more danger than it can help any of us.” Mallory shrugged, no longer having the words to try to convince him he was wrong and feeling deflated from the moment prior to this conversation.

Besides, she would never feel unsafe around him, and by doing this interview she could control the narrative of what is told about her life and who she is. Sure there were risks, but there were risks with everything within this world—and truthfully this seemed a heck of a lot more tame than other things Mallory had learnt about.

“You can’t—” Sam huffed at Mallory’s nonchalant attitude and turned to look at Sarah. “She can’t do this!”

“I can make my own decisions, thank you very much!” Mallory snapped, finally over Sam relentlessly trying to stop this from moving forward. He turned to her, his fire tempered and his expression deflated.

“You won’t be safe.” He told her, almost begging her. It took a moment of just looking at him to realize Sam was acting a bit clueless to, what should be, the obvious truths. She smiled.

“I’m learning how to defend myself—”

“That won’t be enough!” Sam interjected, despite having praised her for her progress yesterday. Mallory knew it was his protective nature getting the better of him and keeping him obtuse.

“I also have you.” Mallory continued, seeing Sam’s body language and expression immediately change. Being acutely aware they were in the presence of Sarah, Mallory scrunched her nose in an attempt to suppress the stupid grin she felt approaching.

“Oh.” That was all he managed to say. “Um, well…” Sam drifted off, his eyes staring deeply at the floorboards again. It seemed like, for the second time today, and since she had met him, Sam was speechless.

“I’ll excuse myself.” Sarah said, having already backed away from the two of them, and promptly leaving their vicinity before they could even think to say something.

Silence lingered between them.

“Do I, uh, do I really make you feel that way?” Sam hesitantly broke the silence between them. “Safe, that is.” He quickly added, his awkwardness and uncertainty showing in his tone and body language—if not by the sudden redness on his face.

“And here I thought cowboys don’t blush.” Mallory teased him with a smile.

“No, stop it.” Sam said with a laugh, not being able to help himself before his smile thinned into a serious frown. “I’m being serious here…for once.” He took a slight step forward towards Mallory, but to her, it felt like he leapt a mile. It was her time to gain crimson cheeks. “Do I?” He asked again, his voice sending a shiver through her shoulders and neck.

“I—” She felt her head tilt upwards, to look at the man who stood above her. “I, um…” Her eyes closed as she saw Sam do the same, the rim of his hat blocking out the light above her, his breath lightly batting against her face. Mallory hated herself for the thought and words that came next. “Cora, Sam.” She warned, reminding them both of the reason they knew they couldn’t act on the obvious feelings they had for each other.

“Right.” Sam softly agreed, stepping back quickly. “You’re right.”

“I’m meant to go back—”

“Yeah…no, of course.” Sam quickly said, obviously trying to recover from that moment but doing so horribly.

“We can’t give her hope that I will stay, that the three of us could be…more than what it has to be.”

Sam looked up at her with a mix of emotions swirling around in his expression—pain, surprise, joy, anger—before he looked away just as quickly.

“Right…of course.” Sam quietly agreed, repeating the same words, again, that he had just said.

However, something in his tone made Mallory feel like he wasn’t thinking of Cora’s hopes being crushed at that moment. It hurt Mallory too, she had been feeling nothing but fury slowly build within her once she learnt how this would end.

But she couldn’t change fate, a fact Mallory knew even before this bizarre experience. She had been nothing but a victim of the damn thing her entire life. Or so it felt like, to her.

The silence returned to the hallway they stood in, Sam’s face twisting as his mind obviously raced despite speaking nothing. It deeply pained Mallory to see it, the pain she caused him and when she thought of the pain to come…well, the idea of that nearly brought her to tears.

“You do, for the record, make me feel safe.” Mallory decided to break the silence this time, wishing to soften the moment. “Being with you, and Cora, is the only sense of normalcy I find within this…world—time—whatever.”

Beyond that, the only thing that has given me a sense of purpose and belonging; ever. Mallory thought to herself, knowing speaking those words would not only be cruel to Sam but also to herself, for she knew she had to return to her time.

“You can’t say all of that now.” Sam gave a small huff from his chest, a slight tone of disbelief hidden under his light teasing.

“I could say a lot more, but it wouldn’t be fair.” Mallory replied, finding herself wanting to be honest—for once—with her feelings for Sam while also wanting, needing, to distance herself from him.

But he was so intoxicating to her, so essential, that it felt like an impossible feat to be apart from him.

“No, it wouldn’t be.” Sam whispered, his arm hesitantly reaching out to lightly pinch her chin and raise her eyes to meet his. “Although, for you? I may endure a little unfairness.” Mallory felt herself melt at his touch, but it was the way he watched her when he said such inviting words that did her in. It took every bit of willpower to turn her head from his ocean eyes. “I’m sorry…” he began but Mallory immediately cut him off.

“No, it’s not you Sam.” She reminded him again followed by a deeply strained sign. “I just…I have to go back, with no way of returning. This is it—nothing else. We can’t…I can’t—” Mallory shook her head as her words failed her again. He was, in every way, the man she wanted to be with.

Not because he was from the future, or a man in front of her that happened to be interested in her, but because of his morals and actions—everything that made Sam Coe himself…that is what had taken hold over her heart.

It truly made her feel broken, and nauseous, at the thought of losing him. Or Cora.

“You don’t have to go back.” Sam tried to softly remind her but Mallory just shook her head.

“I do.” Mallory simply said through a clenched jaw, the fact that she found solid proof of something that all but confirmed what she was saying never leaving her present mind. She had to return to that miserable existence where there was no way for her to achieve her dreams.

Yet here she was now in space, in the presence of a good and caring man, whose daughter Mallory was incomparably smitten with—every goddamn dream or goal she had wanted in life.

How bitter that tasted.

“You can’t prove that.” Sam tried to fight her but Mallory gave out an angry, fed-up, seething exhale.

“Yes, I can!” She exclaimed storming back into her room while Sam slowly and cautiously followed. When he came into her room, she closed the doors before pointing at the open book on her desk.

It was the book of Solomon Coe, opened to an image of the ‘First Coe in Space’—the guy Cora had talked about yesterday.

That image was a NASA faculty photo…and in the front row of that group photo was Mallory.

“I don’t remember taking this photo, Sam.” He peered down to look closely at it before turning to look at Mallory with confusion.

“So?” He said, genuinely seeming not to understand the significance of the photo, and it just ignited Mallory’s anger and pain further.

“So!” She almost yelled, a flash of worry flying across Sam’s face. “It means that I go back, Sam. I haven’t taken this photo yet, but here it is in this book about the past—so I have to go back. It…” The rampant panic that had forced Mallory to ramble at an unnatural speed suddenly halted as a flood of pain and resentment crashed into her.

It felt like all of her anger and frustration from her constant back and forth between wanting to stay in this world and feeling obligated to go back had finally come to a boiling point within her. Steam rising, pressure building, until she finally snapped.

One, powerful and unhinged, punch to the wall released enough of that pressure.

But Mallory had forgotten, blinded by her pain and rage, that Sam was there.

“Woah!” He exclaimed. “Mallory, what’s…talk to me, please.” She felt Sam gingerly grab a hold of her trembling fist before he guided her to sit down before she burst into tears.

“It’s—it’s j-just my luck that…” Mallory managed to get out between heavy, irregular, breaths before her body tensed further at the pain ripping her apart. Not just Sam but pain from…everything.

Just…fucking…everything.

Her entire life trying to live for other people—live to garner approval from her mom, live to make her dad proud. All while also always doubting herself, limiting herself, cause she always ran from what she wanted most—too afraid to fail, to be unwelcomed or abandoned.

So instead Mallory had made a small box for herself. She had a steady, easy, and overlooked job. Enough friends to fill most of her time with their problems and life events, and a few hobbies to fill the rest, as she just…floated through life. Endlessly aimless. Endlessly hopeless at finding something fulfilling.

All of her life, she was told to be small, to take little and finally, finally, when she was actually taking the steps to go for what she wanted—that hope was mercilessly shattered, too.

Mallory tried to force her breath to steady, exhaling a lungful of air while tears continued to stream down her face. Sam took the moment to sit next to her, taking tissues to her face to help dry her cheeks. Mallory couldn’t help but give a small, hopeless, laugh at how much sadness his compassionate gesture brought her.

Slowly, she brought her sad, swollen, eyes to look at him—Mallory immediately seeing how much the sight of such a visual deeply hurt him.

“Just my luck,” She managed to continue with a steady tone, “that I would—” Mallory’s lips curled into themselves as she bit down hard, trying her best to use the physical pain to subside her emotional pain. “I would find a man like you in a place, and time, like this.”

Mallory felt her neck and shoulders tense as she finished her thought, her inner tormentor relentlessly repeating how she was always meant to be unlucky, that this is what she gets for reaching outside of her box—her role.

“Funny…” Sam slowly said, Mallory feeling his hand wrap around hers. “I would say the same thing about you.”

He paused only a moment, his tone soft and gentle to ensure it helped soothe her. Mallory, absent-mindedly with her free hand, reached up for the necklace again, only to remember it was still missing.

“I’ve been told countless times how lucky I am—absurdly lucky, unfairly so to a degree. But I never really believed it. At least…not until you.”

Naturally, Mallory’s gaze fell to his and she both loved and hated how calming he was for her. Sam gave a small half smile before his lips tensed for a moment, his eyes searching Mallory’s for something unspoken.

“I still can’t wrap my head around what the chances of our paths crossing would be, not even considering how…uhm, well, how we feel about each other.” Sam stumbled over his words, something Mallory had noticed usually only happened when he was talking about her, or how he felt about her. “I’m so lucky to have you in my life Mallory, I really mean that.”

He squeezed her hand before bringing his free one up to cup her wet cheek.

“I can’t have you thinking this is bad luck.” He softly added, his thumb gliding along her skin lovingly.

“But it’s different, Sam. Your position and mine.” Mallory corrected, pulling herself away from his embrace to crawl onto her bed and sit cross-legged in the center. “You have Cora, and Constellation and the whole galaxy to explore! I have…” Mallory trailed off, unable to mutter the words ‘nothing to go home to’. “I appreciate what you are trying to say, Sam, I really do, but it’s not comparable. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” He softly told her before standing up. “I’ll, uh, return the book to Cora.” He added, walking over to the desk and snapping the book closed with, Mallory noticed, more force than he would normally use with one of Cora’s prized books. Mallory did not look up as she heard Sam move around her room, only slightly turning her head when she heard the sound of him opening her door. “Just…let me know if you want to talk at all, okay? This,” Sam stressed the word as he raised the book slightly into the air, “doesn’t change anything for me. My feelings are still the same.”

Sam stood still, watching Mallory who peered at him from the far corner of one eye, until she gave a short, soft, nod of acknowledgement. He didn’t wait and expect more, and promptly left Mallory to her privacy.

“My feelings remain the same, too.” She whispered to herself, clutching a pillow to her chest, as she curled up into herself, prepared to cry herself to sleep.

But then there was a prominent knock on her door followed by the door opening. She sat up to see Sam rushing in, looking bothered but determined.

“You said this is all you ever wanted, being in space, seeing the stars, right?” He asked her, out of breath from him rushing back in. “Mallory.” He called out to her, forcing her brain to process the moment.

“Y-yes.” She stammered, as Sam immediately marched towards her at her response.

“Good, then let’s go.” He told her, reaching down to grab her hand. Despite the dominant nature of his actions and demands, his touch was still very much gentle.

“Sam…where are we going?” She asked as she struggled to get her footing while being, practically, dragged by Sam.

“To take you to the stars.”

--//--

Mallory was unsure how long the walk to his ship was, her mind wasn’t really focused on her surroundings or the speed at which they walked. She was mostly focused on how he still held her hand as he walked through New Atlantis, how strong his grip was, how large his hand felt compared to hers.

Then there was the intent on which he walked ahead of her, the focus he had, that even he managed to be silent was saying something. It made Mallory wonder what it was that kept him so silent or had him barge back into her room and decide to do this.

Her mind was so focused on him that it wasn’t until Sam took off and into orbit that she remembered where they were heading.

Mallory was slowly inspecting the areas of his ship while he was preparing for take-off. He ensured to tell her, immediately upon getting into the ship, to make herself comfortable and feel at home. The notion had given Mallory a smile, although almost every interaction with Sam these days left her with a smile.

The ship itself wasn’t large, by any means, but slightly bigger than the only other spaceship she had been in. Mallory wasn’t the best judge for the expected or appropriate size of a spaceship. What was interesting about Sam’s ship was the cockpit, as there were two pilot seats.

The only other custom thing she suspected was the multitude of mismatched shelves full of books.

It felt very much like their space, or home…and it was incredibly comforting to be in.

Mallory spotted the only bed in the single living area, and it was very obviously decorated for and by Cora. A mixture of plushies, science sculptures and horse figurines rested on the shelves; between the books, of course. She even saw some photos of people, but before she could take a closer look, Sam called out.

“Hey, come up here when you can.” He called out to her, Mallory not shying away from wanting to be close to him and walking towards the cockpit without hesitation.

She walked up to the side of the pilot seat he occupied, resting a hand on the top of the headrest and standing to the side of Sam. He looked up at her with the biggest, stupidest, most inviting grin, before turning back to look out into the dark blanket of space.

“So, where you taking me, cowboy?” Mallory asked, smirking as he looked back up at her.

“You keep calling me that, I might start calling you darlin’.” He warned her, his voice lower than usual, Mallory’s eyes flicking to his hands tightening around the controls. Realizing that, no matter if he either had to hold onto them, or was firmly stuck holding them, she wished to take advantage.

“I don’t think I would complain about that.” She told him, lifting his hat from his head and placing it on hers. “But if I’m the cowboy, do I get to call you my darlin’?” She asked, hearing and seeing Sam chuckle with such a deep husk, it did numbers to her body and senses.

“Let’s set a course first.” He told her, a wide smile and heavy dose of amusement ever present in his tone. “I wanted to take you somewhere specific.” He continued, pausing as if to wait for Mallory to tell him no, or that they were to do something different.

“You think I’m going to ‘know a place’?” She laughed, Sam lightly chuckling along with her.

“Yeah, fair point. Alright...” Mallory watched as Sam seamlessly interacted with the panels in front of him, setting coordinates and adjusting the power supply within the ship. It was fascinating to watch and Mallory found herself excited for what came next. “Buckle up and hold onto your hat, cowboy.” Sam told her, turning around to look at her to ensure she was buckled in, his eyes flitting to his hat before returning to look forward.

Mallory swore she saw him purse his lips but, even if it was true, she wouldn’t be calling out that observation.

Very slowly she heard a resounded hum from the ship, a sound she related to that of an electric vehicle or the THX intro before movies. It was calming, and if it wasn’t for them being launched into FTL travel, she probably would have fallen asleep.

Her eyes went wide as the world around them turned into a tunnel of light.

“Well, it’s going to be about 20 minutes,” Sam informed her. “Gotta stay here thought, got nothing fancy on this ship.” He gave a small laugh but Mallory heard a small sense of pain, guilt or self-judgement behind those words.

“Do I need to stay buckled?”

“No.” He quickly answered, their previous playful exchange simmering. “It’s just for the initial jump and for when we arrive—the force just has a very good chance of knocking you over and…well, we can’t have that, now can we?”

There it is. Mallory thought to herself, a small laugh huffing out of her chest as she unbuckled herself to stand up and walk back to Sam. Gingerly, she placed his hat back on his head.

“You seemed deflated without it.” She teased him again, finding herself not thinking of anything else but the present moment, of feeling like she was meant to be where she was. Sam chuckled loudly.

“I hate to ask, but out of, uhm, morbid curiosity…what’s gotten into you?” He asked her with another laugh.

“It’s quite simple really,” Mallory began with a smile, “I saw your gorgeous hair and it was too much!” She teased him, half because she wanted to and the other because she wanted to avoid talking about herself or her true feelings. “I understand why you keep it hidden—it’s a very powerful weapon.”

“Heh, you don’t know the half of it.” He joked back before clearing his throat. “But uh, seriously, tell me.” He asked of her, his voice like velvet and with her being so calm, Mallory felt herself immediately drop her guard.

“I don’t really know,” Sam opened his mouth but Mallory cut him off before he could do it to her, “I’m going to tell you, shut up.” She wined at him, Sam chuckling again, his smile so wide his cheeks had to of hurt a little by now.

“Alright, alright.” He surrendered, Mallory taking a few steps forward before sitting down on the ground cross-legged and looking toward Sam. He quickly glanced down, his eyes joining his lips in a smile.

“I know it sounds crazy, but then again I time-traveled 300 years into the future, so what really is crazy?” Sam quickly laughed, a light shake to his head.

“You,” He told her with a smirk, “and me.” He added, Mallory smiling before curling in her bottom lip.

“At the Lodge, it’s nice but it only feels peaceful when I am with you or Cora. I thought that was just because of you two and that the rest of this time was just always meant to feel wrong. But…” Mallory paused a second, her legs naturally rising upwards to tuck against her chest. It terrified her to no end to be vulnerable or to share matters that were close to her heart.

Always in fear that when she would, they would crumble.

“Then I walked onto this ship, and then I was,” Mallory gave a small laugh of disbelief as she looked above her to the panel of glass that revealed the FTL tunnel they were in, “doing this. Seeing…your home.”

“Heh…it’s, uh, not much.” Sam tried again to dismiss his true emotions behind a self-deprecating joke—although Mallory wasn’t much better of an example in that category.

“I think it’s perfect,” Mallory told him lightly, providing him an honest and kind smile, her eyes softening as she gazed at him. “Oh, and then that hum—”

“Of the grav drive?” Sam quickly interjected with a sudden excitement returning to his expression and voice.

“Is that what that was before we, uh…whatever this is.” Mallory looked up before back at Sam, who was now revering her how she had just him. He then, reliable as ever, gave a short, single, laugh.

“Yeah, that’s what does ‘whatever this is’.” He teased her.

“I’m being serious!” Mallory immediately defended herself, her body immediately unfolding from her chest until she was on her knees looking intently at Sam before immediately softening and plopping her butt onto her feet to sit. “C’mon teach, don’t make me rat you out to your daughter for not educating me on something.” She gave him an empty threat, and he knew it. Sam just smiled at Mallory, his expression not showing all she saw moving behind his eyes.

“Traitor.” He teased her, pausing a moment before continuing. “One of the parts to a ship is a ‘Grav Drive’.” He started to inform her, using a tone she only heard during the lessons they had back at the Lodge. “I think at the beginning of space exploration it was called a—and confirm this with Cora—a…Gravitat—no. Uh…I got this.”

“Careful, don’t want your brain to burst.” She warned with a smirk.

“Uh, huh? You wouldn’t want that?” He asked her, slightly annoyed but Mallory knew he enjoyed it. The small smile cracking through his expression only proved it.

“I like your head,” she told him, “especially when it’s attached to your body and, specifically, intact.” Something about what she said caused Sam to burst with laughter, yet he was able to quickly compose himself.

“An important detail.” He noted, lightly chuckling, before raising an arm to deeply scratch his head—Sam letting out a groan of pleasure that sent shivers down Mallory’s spine. The way he looked at her shortly after didn’t help things. “You…” he started but didn’t continue. Mallory half smiled, amused with his most recent dialectical habit that only occurred when speaking to, or around, her.

“Me.” She said, flashing a smile while he just shook his head and looked forward again.

“You should buckle up.” He told her. Mallory immediately trusted his instructions and did so, but found it weird how that much time had already passed.

“Has it really been almost 20 minutes?” She asked him, feeling a bit excited to see their destination.

“No,” Sam said with a distinct chuckle, Mallory’s excitement bursting. “You were just too distracting—I’m pretty sure it constitutes as a flying hazard.” Mallory found herself tucking her chin to her chest at his words, smiling broadly and finding herself to be speechless. A comfortable silence filled the room, along with the hum of the grav drive.

“Is this all it does?” She asked him. “The grav drive.” She added, wanting to distinguish what she was asking.

“No, they also control the gravity we have in the ship. Also, I remembered—they used to be called Graviton Loop Array’s, but everyone thought it was too long and just slowly called them ‘Grav Drives’.”

“Cause they give you gravity and drive you through space?” Mallory clarified.

“Uh, yeah…pretty on point actually. Man, you are way better at explaining things.” Mallory laughed into a sigh.

“You get good at giving key details when your boss only ever has a few minutes between meetings,” Mallory advised.

“Well, Cora for sure could have used your help. I stopped being useful in that department when she was 7.” He joked, as he did, but he didn’t see how his words affected Mallory.

Firstly, she didn’t like how frequently he put down his job at parenting Cora. It was always backhanded or self-deprecating comments. She knew Cora thought the world of him, which begged the question: where did all this self-doubt come from?

Secondly, just the fact that he said that they would have benefited from her presence, even if it wasn’t what he actually believed, struck Mallory in a way most unexpected.

She took a deep breath, going slowly in order to stay quiet and allow enough time for her to prevent the tears from coming forward.

“She’s a wonderful girl, Sam. You’ve done right by her.” Sam hummed into another comfortable silence. “I think you’re a wonderful father and Cora’s just as lucky to have you as you are to have her.”

That garnered a light laugh after a large exhale is air.

“Thank you.” That was all he managed to verbally say but his tone was rich in depth and emotion. Another small silence. “Just a few more minutes now.” He let her know, a slight strain in his voice, as if he was putting a lot of effort into keeping his voice level.

“Where are you taking me?”

“It’s my little spot in paradise,” Sam told her with an audible smile. “I always found myself coming here when times were hard and, well, it’s a beautiful sight.”

“I’m excited.” Mallory told him, feeling a buzz in her chest knowing he thought to bring her to such a sacred place of his.

“There’s, ah, there’s one thing I wanted to ask you before we arrive.” He slowly informed her, that his nerves were immediately present and noticeable.

“Yes?” Mallory asked, to encourage him to continue speaking, as he had gone completely silent.

“When we get there, can we just…for a moment, forget about everything else? Like, everything. All outside pressures and expectations and just…I dunno…ahh, never mind.” Sam finished with a grumble, Mallory hearing quiet mutters under his breath shortly after.

He, of course, didn’t see how wide she smiled.

“I think I would really like that.”

“Wait, really?” He almost stammered in surprise.

“Yes, silly.” She laughed as they finally came out of FTL travel.

The sight was like no other. Never before, even in books or from the advanced telescopes for deep space, had something so marvellous been captured by image.

Mallory found herself practically running up to the glass, pressing her face as close as she could as she stared at a Nebula far in the distance—a new star being born.

“How old is it?” She immediately asked. “Do you know?” She quickly followed up, her eyes not leaving the visual of cosmic dust and gas shimmering against the sparkling black background.

“No,” Sam noted, pausing a short moment, “but I do like to think of when it will; it’s sometimes fun.” Another pause as Mallory tried to press her face further into the glass. “Careful, you may crack it.” Sam joked, Mallory immediately stepping back with concern. “I joke, I—is that what you want to look at?” He softly asked her, Mallory immediately turned to look at him.

He had one corner of his mouth curled, a teasing twinkle in his eyes yet they watched her with such softness that it left Mallory’s throat feeling dry.

It was unfair how he unravelled her, how he just commanded feelings within her to surface or demand recognition. She liked to think she had the same effect on him, but it was hard to believe she could ever muster such a reaction.

Suddenly remembering his question, she just nodded before turning back to the Nebula, so she didn’t see Sam’s expression suddenly change to one that betrayed his feelings—he was scared, terrified even, of how she had a hold over him, while also wishing to give in to her every wish and whim. To see her this excited? Over something as common as a Nebula? It was beyond endearing.

Sam tilted the head of the ship downwards, Mallory looking at him in confusion before looking up at the ceiling of the cockpit to continue to look at the Nebula.

“I may get a kink in my neck looking like this…” She muttered, slightly annoyed that Sam would do something silly like this. He just chuckled as he got out of the pilot seat.

“Not your delicate neck.” He commented, feigning concern but Mallory knew it was there. She watched him, cross-armed and intrigued, at what he was doing.

From a locker, he pulled out a thick wool blanket only to lay it on the floor beneath the ceiling glass panels of the cockpit. He gestured for her to lay down. Mallory flashed a scrutinizing squint at Sam, causing a short, surprised, laugh to escape from him as he threw up his arms.

“Not trying anything, it’s just…trust me?” He asked her two words she could not resist or deny. Mallory slowly kneeled down onto the blanket, straightening out her legs and leaning back on her arms. Her head tilted upwards and…well it was even more beautiful than before.

The Nebula was perfectly centred within the frame of the ship, everything else blocked out seemed to make the colours of the swirling gas and dust brighter and more pronounced. Mallory heard Sam chuckle as he got down onto the blanket himself, she could feel his presence next to her, his hand lightly brushing hers as he took the same position.

“Just tell me I was right.” He smugly asked of her, finally pulling her attention to look at him, the brightest, happiest, smile in her expression.

His head fell to meet her gaze, and she saw how relaxed he was and how much the stress of his life bore onto him. It almost felt like she was looking at a different man.

It also felt like a warmth was spreading through her body, her heart beating as he let out a breathy smile, his eyes dancing between hers.

“I like to think you’ve gotten lost in my baby blues.” He continued with a light chuckle, the crinkle in his eyes pronouncing his smile and amusements. Mallory just pursed her lips, feigning annoyance while she fought every urge to kiss that smug smile off his lips. She turned to look back up.

“You were right.” She admitted, snorting a small laugh as she heard Sam let out a long and exaggerated sigh. Instinctively she reached out her hand to lightly tap his stomach. “You’re so mean sometimes.” She, unconvincingly, complained.

“Oh, and you aren’t?” He quickly became playfully defensive as he turned to prop himself up on one elbow to fully face his body towards her. She glanced down at him, knowing she had no good defense to his question, and instead just flicked off his hat and looked back to the stars. He just laughed while reaching behind him to grab his hat, laying down in the process and placing his hat over his face. “I just can’t with you.” His muffled words lightly escaped from within the top of his hat.

The motion, and visual sign of his defeat, had a gravitational pull on her. Mallory found herself rolling over so her body was close to his, almost laying over him, as she slowly raised his hat off his face.

“You can’t, huh?” She asked, her voice naturally becoming sultry and strained as she reached over his body to place his hat beside him. Perhaps taking advantage of her positioning, or finding himself letting go of the same inhibitions Mallory was trying to, Sam pulled her close to him before rolling them over so that he was overtop of Mallory.

However, unlike when she had gingerly placed herself beside him, his body was directly over hers. The proximity of Sam along with his position made her forget how to breathe for a moment, before Sam smiled, his gorgeous thick hair slowly starting to fall away from its well-structured position.

“You keep this up and I may have to break my earlier promise.” Mallory smiled, honestly not being able to recall anything prior to the moment he caged her within his frame.

“What promise?” She asked him, curious but also feeling a desire to get lost in this moment.

Sam just softly smiled at her, leaning his weight onto one arm so he could reach out to delicately tuck a few strands of hair behind her ear. Mallory felt herself blush deeply and fight every urge to not look away, as she had promised to do before they arrived here. His fingers continued from her ear to trail down the curve of her jaw, his thumb brushing her cheek until he lightly pinched her chin—his gaze, when Mallory had mustered the courage to look at him, was full of care and desire.

He smiled before starting to lean forward.

“This one.” He whispered against her lips before pressing his firmly against hers. Mallory, leaning into this instead of out, wrapped her arms around his neck and placed her hands on the top of his back, pulling him towards her.

All of the pent-up tension between them, the constant flirting and teasing, culminated into this single kiss and they both would be lying if they didn’t claim that they desperately craved a full release of that built tension.

Mallory moved her head, deepening their kiss, the both of them pressing their faces firmly against the other, dramatically inhaling through their flattened noses between each hungry kiss. Slowly they moved back into a seated position, neither allowing a disconnect from the other. Sam slowly removed his leather jacket, either from the heat of their actions or in preparation for something else.

Mallory smiled up at him, the middle of his torso at her eye level. Slowly she snuck her fingers under the fabric of his shirt, running her hands along his stomach while lifting his shirt only to reveal a small trail of hair along his stomach and then along his pectorals.

However, once she raised his shirt to that point, Sam had to take over due to where he kneeled over her as it limited her ability to reach that far—but she was where she wanted to be. As Sam lifted his shirt over his head, Mallory lightly kissed his stomach, just above his belly button. It immediately recoiled as he let out a small smile of surprise before relaxing.

Lightly, and slowly, she kissed below his belly button, and then lower, following the thin line of hair until she was far closer than she ever would have travelled if she allowed herself to have any sense of responsibility in this moment. But she didn’t—they had promised to remove all responsibilities they held in their life, to suspend them as they were suspended in space.

It was, truly, the only way they could ever allow themselves to be this close, this intimate. Or at least that was the case for Mallory.

Sam reached down to cup her chin once more, his eyes squinting as he smiled at her, light flickers within his expression giving away to the many things he was thinking of saying at this moment. Mallory let her head fall back as she left out a deep laugh of amusement and anticipation at whatever quip he would settle on. He smiled, obviously having decided on one.

His hand swept to the back of her head, lifting it into a comfortable position, as he leaned back into her.

“Can’t hurt that delicate neck of yours.” He whispered, a sickly grin spreading across his expression before he tucked his face between her shoulder and chin to firmly kiss her there, and again, and again. His lips travelled down to her collarbone and up to her jaw, each touch deliberate and hungrier than the last. Mallory felt Sam slip a knee between her legs, a fire burning between them yet a sudden jolt ran through her body, unable to—even with her promise—go further at this time.

Sam immediately sensed her hesitation, sitting back up and releasing his grip on her. His eyebrows pinching together in a silent concern, Mallory knew he was waiting for her to speak. Not wanting to burden the mood or moment, she forced a smile but it only lasted a moment as Sam lightly shook his head, telling her he would accept her as she was.

It was a gut punch of acceptance she could never anticipate from anyone.

The tears that welled beneath her eyes were immediate and unstoppable, a hand rushing to cover her mouth as it quivered uncontrollably at the foreign but desperately craved feeling.

Sam shot back, immediately panicked that he had been too forward but Mallory shot out a wide and open hand. She couldn’t manage to even muster a sound, but she shook her hand to try to say ‘no’ before pointing at herself as if to say: ‘It’s me’, ‘I’m the problem’... ‘I’m the crazy one’.

Sam’s expression softened as he rested into a kneeled position, effortlessly reaching out to grab her free but shaking hand, softly running lines of comfort over her skin. It honestly distracted her from her upset and emotions and found herself slowly calming down.

“Down there.” She croaked with a flick of her head, motioning for Sam to lay back down onto the blanket—that now required a bit of re-arranging in order to do so. Mallory swallowed the lump in her throat as Sam, still shirtless, rested against the floor with his hands on his stomach. “God I hate how you make me feel.” Mallory complained as she grabbed the arm closest to her and stretched it towards her, creating a gap for her to place herself against his body and arm.

“I like to think that’s a lie.” He chuckled as Mallory rested her head against his muscular arm, tucking her chin and face against his skin. Sam’s arm adjusted as he reached up to soothingly run his fingers through her hair. “You going to tell me what that was?” He asked her softly, the thought of expressing the reason for that overwhelming feeling had her lips fidgeting.

“Do I have to?” She asked, the final residual tears falling onto Sam’s chest. He immediately strained his neck to look at her face, Mallory sheepishly smiling while wiping the salty liquid off of him. “I’m fine.” She reassured him, but he just cocked an eyebrow and rested his head back down, this time placing his free hand behind it to offer some support.

“You mean you aren’t crying.” He corrected her, not even asking. “I don’t think you count as ‘fine’.” He softly advised, Mallory letting out a small laugh before the two of them laid in comfortable silence, Mallory’s hand naturally running up and down his chest. “Okay,” Sam started, the rumble in his chest present against her fingers, “how about a different question? Why is it that you are terrified of opening up?”

Mallory opened her mouth to give another deflection but Sam continued before she could speak.

“And before you try to be smart about this one too, let me provide my evidence on how I know this is true.” He paused, waiting for Mallory to try to fight him on this, but she just pressed her body further against him as if bracing herself for some rush of force. “I see how your body tenses, your fingers twitch, whenever I even get near a personal topic, but when I finally do manage to crack through your ironclad defences you are immediately relaxed—almost like a different person.”

Those were the five words he needed to say, as it immediately reminded her of the exact moment tonight when she felt the same about Sam. She remembered how elated and calming it felt to see him like that, and had to imagine he must have felt the same.

It was also an upsetting truth to face that she had no ability to relate to how she shut down his inquiries because he never did that to her. Sure there were some things he was hesitant to share, but he still did.

But Mallory, at least in her mind, had a justified reason to not share her thoughts or enjoyments of life.

Sam just didn’t know that…and with realizing this Mallory immediately, to her great discomfort, knew she had to tell him. She took a deep, shaky, breath.

“There are two reasons, really, that I don’t share things about myself. The first is because my life, Sam...my life just makes people sad. I don’t know how else to say it.” She paused, biting her bottom lip as she felt him stop playing with her hair and move his hand to provide some amount of embrace. “The other reason,” Mallory gave a self-deprecating laugh, “which will make you sad, is because anytime I would share things, I was never given a response of acceptance. As an adult, it was pity and ‘woe is you, you’re so strong for being so normal despite all you went through’. Every time. Then as a child, I—”

Mallory let out a gasp of air as if it was sucked out of her, terrified to be this vulnerable yet Sam had shown her no pity or false, surface level, compliments. He was just listening, softly breathing, his hand lightly running along her back.

“You sure you want to know?” She asked again, giving Sam another chance to not see her for how broken she truly was. Sam shifted his whole body so that he could face Mallory, his arm still a place for her head to rest, his whole body embracing her as if to shield her from the emotional pain she was burdened by, smiling at her as if to wash it all away.

“Without a doubt.” He told her, his expression soft but his tone determined and final. Mallory just pressed her face against his skin, his chest hair tickling her face a bit, slightly pulling her out of her ‘doom and gloom’-y mood.

“My mom.” Mallory managed to get out the two hardest words of this story. “She was, uh...a leading neurosurgeon around the world. I don’t know if you guys have those now but they are the top surgeons in the medical field and...not surprisingly, a good handful of them were narcissists with god complexes—something ‘dear old mum’ wasn’t safe from.” Mallory paused, swallowing and taking a breath in an attempt to take out the sharp edge in her tone. “It also meant she had...that I had to be just as great, if not better. Which...to a woman who thought she was the best thing on the planet, was a detrimental goal to put onto any child.”

“I’m so sorry,” Sam said, a thick layer of sadness blanketing his voice. Mallory just smiled—she had expected those words.

“Anytime I had an interest in something...if she didn’t think it would propel me forward in life, she would destroy it or take on the hobby herself and do it better than me so I would lose interest. So... eventually I just learnt to keep everything close to my chest. If you don’t reveal anything...if you aren’t vulnerable, then you don’t open yourself up to your hopes being crushed.”

“That, uh...that has to be incredibly lonely for you.” Sam slowly said, the same sadness still present.

“I have nothing to go home to, Sam.” Mallory finally admitted to him, knowing that this information would only make his will to fight for her to stay here stronger—his demand that she throw all caution to the wind at the probability that very action would cause a splinter of multi-versus and cause unknowing destruction on a calamity unfathomable to any human mind.

Yet, despite all of that, she truly, desperately, with every fibre of her being, hoped he would manage to convince her to before the end.

He paused for a long moment, his embrace remaining strong and firm.

“I hope you know that...” Sam hesitated a moment, taking a deep breath before letting out a larger sigh, “that you will always have a home here. At the Lodge or...even here with Cora and I.” Sam paused again, Mallory hearing how quickly his heart was beating, before he let out an awkward chuckle. “Not that I’m asking you to move in or anything, I just...”

“You don’t want me to go.” Mallory clarified for him, summarizing his jumble of words as neatly as possible for him. He gave a sigh of relief as he squeezed her tighter.

“I really don’t.” He told her, planting a soft, delicate, kiss on top of her head before resting back against the floor, pulling Mallory with him so she rested more on top of him rather than beside him. He peered down at her, tucking his chin against his neck, looking absurd and causing Mallory to naturally laugh at the silly sight. He smiled, resting it back once again. “Although my experience was nothing like that, I can sympathize with having a parent force you into a role you don’t want.” He added his own sharp edge in his tone.

“I’m so sorry—” Mallory began but Sam immediately cut her off.

“Don’t be, what you went through...” He voice petered off, Mallory thinking that he caught himself starting to say the one thing Mallory hated hearing when explaining her horrible and sad childhood. “Sorry.” He quickly added, confirming Mallory’s suspicions, but the fact that he was so quick to remember and be that thoughtful, well...that was everything to her.

She squeezed him tightly.

“Don’t be.” She reassured him, Mallory hearing him audibly smile.

“I’m going to convince you.” He told her, warned her ever, his voice and words serious and defiant. “I know you found a photo in a book but, and no offence Mallory, your memory sucks and I won’t accept that as the proof you aren’t meant to be here, meant to be...with me.” Mallory smiled into his chest at the hopeful and determined way he said those two words. “And when I do?” He paused for dramatic effect. “I will tell you that I told you so.”

Mallory chuckled.

“I wouldn’t expect anything else, cowboy.” She murmured against him, them both finding unknown and unfamiliar comforts in the other's presence and embrace.

They continued, after that, to lay there on the floor of his ship, changing glances up at the stars and then at each other. Sam mostly shared more facts about himself, how he had left home, how he had gained his skills as a pilot, and how he ended up meeting his ex—a point in the conversation Sam immediately realized Mallory was not a fan of and made a point to quickly skim over to when he had Cora on his own.

They laid in each other's arms for a few more hours until they both managed to, and quite unintentionally, fall asleep.

#sam coe #coemancer #starfield #starfield fanfiction #starfield sam coe #I love them so much #I hope you all do too #booburry writes

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