#anyway this sparked us to start texting a little again.

[delphi-shield]

helping hand // leon s. kennedy

Leon x afab!Reader Smut wc: 2,600 mdni - 18+ hiii, you've all been so kind. unfortunately i am simply Too Awkward to properly express that, but i genuinely do appreciate all your kind words. please accept this smut as a token of my appreciation. i am definitely not luring you in with leon fics so that i can start posting the seven jill fics i'm working on haha what who would do that.

Leon helps you use a new toy. That's it, that's the smut. afab reader, use of dildo w/ knot & cumtube, size kink, use of good girl

You're not really sure what you expect Leon to do, per se - but in a moment of unfettered horniness, you had texted him. Told him how badly you needed him. He just hadn't known, maybe, what exactly you wanted from him. Not until you sent the picture, sloppily marked with a red line to show him exactly how far you had managed to take your newest toy - and how badly you wanted to take the whole thing.

You wedged your thumb between your teeth, biting at the nail. You stared at your last text message from Leon.

On my way ;)

That stupid fucking smiley face. You shouldn't be this nervous. You had requested his help. The ball was entirely in your court. You could pull the plug on this at any moment. Christ, it wasn't like he hadn't seen you naked before. He had knotted you into a pretzel more times than you could count, bent you over nearly every surface in your apartment, kicked your feet apart, and slid home like he was made for it.

But you've never really had this kind of experience with him before.

Sure, whatever. He had used your vibrator on you before. That wasn't an unwelcome guest. He had even mentioned more toys, left it up to you to decide when you wanted to introduce them to the bedroom. But this? This was different.

It was fucking huge, for starters.

The dildo sat there, intimidating on its own. You nudge the prominent head with a finger, trace the ridges down to the knot at the base. That's the part that's giving you trouble. That's the part you need help with. The cumtube should help, in theory. It’s already filled in anticipation of Leon’s arrival, the syringe lying off to the side while the toy sits in the middle of a towel you had spread out. You may as well get a spotlight, unfurl a banner that reads ‘HELP ME FUCK MYSELF’. Maybe some confetti poppers. Thoughts for next time. You should make a note of it.

Leon knocks like a cop, meaty part of his fist slamming against the door one, two, three times in a way that never fails to make you jump. You're already on edge, after all. Your pacing stops. You wipe your thumb off onto your shorts (tiny, barely more than glorified underwear - not like it matters. They'll be discarded soon anyway.) and wrench the door open. Leon grins down at you. His eyes skitter across the room, searching for the toy no doubt. You snort. As if you'd have it just sitting out on the kitchen table.

He greets you with a kiss to the top of your head, peeling off his coat and dropping it over the back of your couch. He slips out of his shoes - and you realize then and there that he looks like he's thrown on whatever was in reach at the time. His shirt is crumpled, socks mismatched - maybe he's more excited about this than you had expected. The thought sparks a prickle of heat across your skin. 

"So," he says, stuffing his hands into his pockets, "when do I get to meet the little guy?"

"Little?" You tease, a grin twitching the corners of your lips into a smile.

He raises his hands, palms out. “My mistake.”

You snort, waving for him to follow you. As if he needs the encouragement. His hands settle onto your shoulders, thumbs gently pressing and massaging. You nudge the door open with your foot, sweeping your hand out in an exaggerated motion. 

Leon lets out a low whistle. "Okay. Not so little."

Your nerves rise up again, getting the best of you for a moment. You pick at your finger, lingering by the door while he steps in, crouching down to observe the set up you've laid out for him.

"We don't have to," you offer him an out, shrugging like it's fine, like you won't be disappointed - like the idea won't be burning a hole in the back of your mind for the rest of your goddamn life every time you get even a little horny.

"No," he says quickly. He picks up the syringe, testing it curiously. A bead of lube dribbles from the head of the toy, drops to darken the towel below. "I think we do."

"But, like, we actually don't--"

Leon stands, turns back to you. His hands rest on your shoulders again, his head ducking to look you in the eye. He's not smiling - but damn, with that gleam in his eye, he doesn't have to.

"You want to. That's good enough for me."

Kissing him is the most natural thing in the world. A ‘thank you’, an ‘I love you’, all wrapped up into a press of your lips to his. He licks into your mouth, hands sliding down your arms slowly. He nudges your bedroom door shut only to press you against it, knee rising between your legs and pressing. You groan, rocking your hips against him, letting the friction ignite in the pit of your stomach. Your hands slip underneath his shirt, exploring skin that you've spent hours mapping out and committing to memory. He hisses a breath between his teeth, and you giggle when he mutters about your freezing little fingers, yet refuses to pull away. A hand trails to his belt, fingers fumbling with the buckle before his hand rests atop yours, stilling you.

"Nice try," he teases. "You're not getting out of this that easy. You asked me here for a reason."

No amount of huffing or pouting dissuades him. His kisses trail from your lips to your jaw, your neck, the hollow of your throat. He's shucking your shirt off of you, flinging it to some corner of the room. His hands grip your sides, kneading soft flesh between his fingers. For a moment, you wonder if he remembers that reason himself. He spins you around, off the door, and nudges you towards the center of the room, towards the little station you had set up. His fingers linger against your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps where they once were.

"Why don't you show me how you usually do this and we'll go from there."

You clear your throat, your eyes skittering off to the side. You hook a thumb under the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down past the point of your hip. Leon’s gaze is hot on your skin, eyes narrowing the slightest bit when he realizes you’re not wearing panties.

“I kind of started before you got here,” you admit. You gesture sheepishly to a smaller toy lying discarded to the side. Leon’s shoulders straighten, the hiss of a breath sucked through his teeth. He lets out a slow, whispered ‘okay’.

It takes a few awkward, fumbling moments to get into place. You kneel over your target and Leon stands back with his hands on his hips, watching. You laugh, tell him it isn’t a spectator sport, and the awkward tension bleeds out of the room when he chuckles. He drops to one knee behind you, rubbing his cheek affectionately against the top of your head.

His hands settle firmly onto your hips, guiding you down onto the toy. Your head leans back against his chest, lube-slick hand curled around the base to keep it steady. The head slips into you, the slide greeting you with a rush of warmth flooding your belly. His lips press below your ear, murmuring strings of praises. His hands slide from your hips to caress your breasts, calloused thumbs circling your nipples, pinching them between thumb and forefinger and plucking. You keen, your back arching, pressing into his hands, and your hips roll. More of the toy presses into you - enough to give you pause, enough to drive the breath from your lungs in the form of a whimper.

The stretch and the burn isn't unpleasant. It fuels the fire in your belly, spreading to your limbs - but you know that this is the easy part. This part, you’ve done on your own. You take a moment, balanced on your knees, to enjoy the stretch, the fullness.

Before you get too comfortable, Leon's hands grasp your hips again and urge you upwards, the ridges of the toy dragging against your soaked walls. A groan stays locked behind your lips, tongue pressing to the back of your teeth. He presses you back down, sets a steady pace for you that you wouldn't have picked for yourself. His hands brace you, his arms looped around you firm, until your hips move without his guidance.

He raises his fingers to your lips and you open obediently, pressing your tongue to the seam of his digits. You lap and suck at his skin. His forehead lowers, pressing into your neck to release a hot groan against your skin.

He pulls his fingers from your mouth and grips your jaw hard - harder than he meant to. His fingers squeeze, pursing your lips for him to kiss. He’s ravenous, spit-slick fingers leaving a warm, sticky feeling against your skin, teeth tugging your bottom lip to his mouth for him to suckle. You aren’t sure which is more obscene - the sloppy, wet noises of your pussy or the starved way he kisses you.

"I am so hard right now," Leon whispers against your lips. A shock of arousal jolts your hips down. You groan, fumbling blindly behind you, hand slapping against his chest and sliding lower. He catches your wrist and chides, “Nuh-uh. Focus.”

“No fair,” you whine.

Leon drags the backs of his fingers down the valley of your breasts, across your stomach, and between your folds. The fingers you had sucked so dutifully moments before circle your clit in quick, harsh movements that pin your shoulders back.

“You want to talk about fair?” He growls in your ear. The knot catching against your hole, presses against you in a way that makes you whine and pull up. Leon leans against your back, urging you down again. “Calling me over just to help you fuck yourself? You think that’s fair?” You aren’t even sure what you’re saying anymore, babbling, hiding your face in your arm, body moving, chasing his fingers, chasing the press and the fill of the toy in your cunt.

“Almost there,” Leon huffs, his breathing nearly as labored as yours in a way that makes your heart

rate fucking spike and your vision blur. “Doin’ so good. Gotta get you nice and fucked open for me later, huh?”

You whimper and whine each time you come back down to meet the knot, the pressure against your pussy too much to push past, but god you want this, you want this whole thing so badly. Leon’s fingers stall on your clit, pressing against you firmly. He leans away, the heat of his chest disappearing and leaving you cold and empty.

“Leon -” you start to protest, your words melting into a moan. An ungodly squelch pushes lube through the toy, splurting deep in your pussy and coating your already soaked walls. You move, rising up and mewling at the contrast of the cool lube. The glide down grows easier, quicker, more desperate. The knot kisses your entrance against and again, lube and slick dribbling down the length of the toy and pooling at the base.

The press doesn’t burn any longer. It’s a pressure that makes your mouth drop open and your head roll back, your eyes squeezed shut. Leon is all over you, his fingers rubbing fervently at your clit, building a fuzzy, static-y pleasure that contrast perfectly with the deep, satiating fullness. He presses open-mouthed kisses to every bit of skin he can reach, his tongue licking and teeth nipping.

You sink down again and then it’s in. The breath drives from lungs, your whole body frozen a moment. It returns to you in a ragged moan. You slump against Leon, picking your hips up experimentally and pressing back down. The knot stretches you wide again.

“Good girl,” Leon coos, his eyes fixed on the apex of your legs, mouth parted. He lets you enjoy yourself a moment longer, lets you clumsily rock your hips against the base of the toy. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

His arm loops around your waist, easing you off the toy in a slide that makes you moan, makes your insides quiver and your eyes squeeze shut. A rush of lube gushes down the toy, darkening the towel. You don’t have the time to be embarrassed by the noise your body makes; he positions you quickly, your back resting against his chest, spread open for him with your legs draped over his knees. He grabs your toy, slick with lube and with you, and glides the head between your lips. Your legs twitch, but he holds them open. Blessedly, he doesn’t tease for long. He guides the toy into you and marvels at the way it slides so easily, at the noises you make for him, the part of your lips, the stagger of your breathing.

His hand grips the base of the toy, fucking you with it at his own pace, the grind and the push so perfect you can’t catch your breath. His hand flattens across your stomach to stop your squirming, but when it proves worthless he chuckles, mutters something about how needy you are, and goes back to playing with your clit.

You clamp down on the toy, your walls too slicked, too wet to offer any real resistance to the way Leon thrusts it into you. The stutter of your hips becomes desperate, the noises leaving you pitched high, and a final pass of Leon’s fingers against your clit makes you snap, the pleasure flooding through you in a wave that pulls you under, leaves you gasping for air. His mouth latches onto your neck, holding the toy still for you to grind onto as you work your way through your release.

It feels like an hour has passed when your head finally clears. The stiff feeling settling in your knees and in your hips is something for your to worry about later. Leon strokes your hair from your face, his arms curled around your waist now, letting you take your time as you recover.

“You still hard?” You ask, turning your head to kiss him.

“You have no idea,” Leon laughs, low and throaty. He kisses you soft, resisting the urging to tilt your head back and take this another direction.

He doesn’t let you relax too long, working the toy out of you gently. The emptiness has you curling into his side, you skin sticky with lube, sweat, your own release - god knows what, at this point. You can’t be certain that you really care, that floaty feeling still washing through your veins.

As much as you want to linger there on the floor, Leon scoops you up and deposits you on the bed. You reach a hand out for him, urging him to join you, but he only holds up a finger to tell you to wait.

“Gotta get this cleaned up. Gotta make sure you’re not hiding any other fun toys from me.”

“The dresser, second drawer on the right.”

He shakes his head, taking it for a joke. He shoots you a smirk as he opens the drawer. His face falters, surprise flickering over his features, a light oh leaving his lips.

“Well,” he says, his hands settling onto his hips. “Guess it’s a good thing we’ve got all night, huh?”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #resident evil imagine #leon kennedy smut #resident evil smut #resident evil #leon kennedy #i'll figure out a tagging system one day. maybe even navigation. until then? good luck.

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: hi hello i wasn’t expecting to write barzy long fic but those damn musician mat photos KILLED me. also yes, i started this fic literally the day after the photos were posted but here we are. it needed major editing and also i need to like sit on it for a bit before posting. ANYWAY it’s here and i’m happy with it? i hate the title but whatever, it is what it is. enjoy and let me know what you think!! 🫶🏻

word count: 4.3k

tw: semi-public fingering but doesn’t go all the way, public thigh grinding

summary: hanging out in a dive bar on long island, the last thing you expect to see is mat with a guitar over his shoulder, joining the cover band on stage

When you look up from responding to a text and Mat’s nowhere to be found, you’re not really that surprised. He does this a lot - gets distracted and wanders off. Occasionally, he’ll be cornered by a fan, smiling gamely for a selfie and chatting for a bit. Every once in a while he gets roped into a game of pool, chatting with the random men like he’s known them for years. Once in a bar in the city, and this one nearly killed you, he struck up a conversation with Aaron Tveit - your favorite Broadway star and secretly a man that you absolutely would use a hall pass on - without realizing that he was talking to someone more famous in certain New York circles than he is.

All this to say, Mat disappearing in the bar isn’t a totally unprecedented occurrence.

You set your phone back down on the high top table and lean a shoulder against the wall next to you, crossing your legs at the ankle and taking a sip of your High Noon. It’s warm-ish now, starting to taste more artificial, and you look over your shoulder at the bar, scrutinizing the crowd that’s gathered and waiting for the bartender to notice them. It’s not worth it to leave the table since it’ll be snatched up in a second, so you flip your phone over and use your index finger to tap out a quick message to Mat asking him to get you another drink when he gets back from wherever he wandered off to - at this point you’re assuming there’s a major line for the men’s room. The little blue bubble floats up and shows it was delivered. Satisfied, you lean back against the wall, scooping your hair off the back of your neck with your free hand and holding it in a lazy ponytail so your neck can cool off a bit.

Long Island is a humid, swampy mess, August slipping away into a moment in time, as Queen Taylor says. But September is doing her damnedest to remind everyone that she’s still a summer month too.

Not that you mind, having been born and raised on Long Island and intimately familiar with the weather extremes, but it’s particularly gross in the bar tonight. Sweaty bodies packed in for the 90s alt cover band that’s supposed to be playing tonight. They’ve played at the bar before and they’re pretty good you have to admit, but right now you’re just wishing for a little bit of a breeze.

Giving up on your hair, you twist it up into a messy knot, securing it with a thin black elastic that’s seen better days. Three loops around thick hair, and you know it’s going to snap before the night is over, but you can’t worry about that now. There’s immediate relief from pulling your hair off your neck and now you can focus on the fact that Mat’s actually been missing for more than a few minutes. You tap your phone screen, looking for a message, but there’s nothing from him, just a few messages in the girls’ group chat talking about Monday night’s poker event. Wrinkling your nose, you look around the bar again, trying to see if you can spot your boyfriend.

It’s too dark though, Mat’s hair and black tee would blend in with the crowds. After a few more minutes of looking, you give up, rolling your eyes and muttering to yourself, “he better not have found Aaron Tveit again,” before taking another sip of your High Noon. The spark of grapefruit flavour hits the back of your tongue and you pinch your lips together, swiping at your lower lip with the tip of your tongue. Drops of condensation roll down the can, making your hand wet and you wipe your palm on the fabric of your dress, already a little sticky with sweat.

Bored without Mat, you reply to the group chat and scroll through Instagram, double tapping on a photo Sofia posted of Olivia and commenting a string of heart eyes emojis. While you’re on your phone, the band takes the stage, a group of older men that have clearly been on the circuit for a while now. You start to swipe over to the phone app, ready to call Mat and find out where he went, when another man comes out onto the stage - this one much younger, much more handsome, and much more familiar to you.

“What?” The shocked gasp falls out of your mouth and either you’re louder than you thought or Mat just has radar to tell where you are at any given moment, because he looks over as he’s adjusting the guitar strap on his shoulder and winks at you, his mouth curling up in that familiar cocky smirk you know and love.

Mat’s been fooling around on the guitar for years now and he’s gotten half-way decent in that time, but you had no idea he was feeling confident enough to play in front of a packed bar. Or that he knew the band well enough to ask or be asked to join.

The lights over the stage dim and brighten simultaneously and the band gets into position, drumsticks clicking together to signify the start of the set. In your excitement and rush to grab your phone so you can record Mat, you nearly knock over your drink, catching it at the last second. Mat grins at you again and tucks a piece of hair behind his ear, looking down at the guitar to position his fingers. You cover your mouth with your free hand to muffle the excited noises that start when the band begins to play - you want to make sure that the video you record has Mat’s playing, not your squeaks and cheers. He looks a little nervous at the start, focused intently on her fingers and the guitar strings, but as the song goes on, Mat gets more into it and relaxes.

The phone shakes in your hand a little from your excitement and the inevitability of you bouncing a bit on the balls of your feet as you get into the music too. Mat’s hair falls over his forehead and curls around his ears, long at his neck, and a flush of heat spreads through your stomach. He’s stupidly attractive up on stage, playing his guitar, and you’re ready to jump him. You lean up a little on your toes to get a better angle, the hem of your dress fluttering around your thighs. Mat looks up while he plays and spots you again. You move your hand from your mouth and grin brightly at him. He responds with another delighted smirk, shaking his hair out of his face.

Around you, the crowd is into the cover, singing along when they know the lyrics and dancing in that lazy way people dance in dive bars. You catch a few mentions of Mat’s name, eyes landing on a handful of younger girls that are staring openly at him and recording. You bite down on your lower lip to prevent the self-satisfied smirk from forming. There’s something extremely satisfying knowing that all these girls are thirsting over Mat, but you get to go home with him.

Mat shakes his hair back again and scrunches his nose up while he plays and the girl closest to you nearly yelps, “fuck, he’s so hot with that hair.”

Her friend chimes in with, “it’s giving Nathan Scott season four minus the depression.”

The first girl replies, “it’s going to be such a crime when he has to cut it for the season.” She’s not wrong - you always hate when Mat does the Lou-approved chop at the end of the summer.

You muffle a laugh behind your hand and focus on Mat’s playing. The song winds down and his grin is immediate and genuine. He shakes the hands of each of the guys and claps them on the back before wandering off the stage. You stop the recording and set your phone back down on the table, clapping and cheering along with the crowd. The band starts back up again and you bounce on the balls of your feet, waiting for Mat to find you.

He ducks through the crowds, still grinning, and appears in front of you suddenly. Before he can say a word, you throw yourself at him, locking your arms around his neck and slanting your lips over his. One of Mat’s arms wraps around your lower back, holding you flush against the front of his body. You grin against his mouth - he tastes like peach flavored High Noon, chapstick, and the salt of his sweat. Mat’s tongue swipes against your lower lip, encouraging you to open your mouth and you do, deepening the kiss and twisting your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging gently. He groans against your mouth, the sound swallowed up by your lips. The kiss lingers and fades out as you pull back for air, but then Mat ducks forward and kisses you softly. Your forehead rests against his and you exhale a little giggle.

“Hi, babe,” he laughs, whole face crinkled up in delight when he pulls back, one arm still looped around your waist. You can feel his hand tremble against your waist, betraying nerves or leftover adrenaline from his stint on stage.

“Oh my god! You loser!” You laugh, pushing at his shoulder with the palm of your hand. Mat grabs your wrist with lightning quick reflexes and flexes his fingers around your wrist, tightening gently before he brings your hand to his mouth to kiss your pulse point. Your breath stutters in your chest, but you continue, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were going to play!”

Still holding your wrist, Mat steps closer and shakes his head. “I wasn’t planning on it. I went to the bathroom, sort of got talking with the band,” he shrugs, “it just happened.”

“It just happened!” you echo on a laugh. “Well you were amazing.”

“Thanks,” Mat ducks his head, ears going a little pink underneath his hair. He releases your wrist and scrapes his hand through his hair, the sweaty strands holding in place. Your back bumps against the wall and you realize Mat’s still crowding your body, one muscled thigh in between your legs. You hook an ankle around his, dragging his leg a little closer and the faint smile on his lips becomes more salacious, hungry. He leans his hand against the wall next to your head, caging you in. Your stomach flips and heat coils low, throbbing between your legs.

Your tongue darts out and licks your lower lip and Mat’s gaze traces the movement, eyes darkening in a familiar way. His palm is flat over the curve of your hip, but his fingers curl up a little, capturing the cotton fabric of your dress and tugging the fabric up a little. A flutter of a breeze hits your upper thigh.

“Maybe you should quit hockey,” you giggle a little, blinking lazily, “and play guitar full time.”

“Yeah?” Mat raises an eyebrow. “Don’t think amateur guitar playing is as lucrative as professional hockey.” His fingers twist in your dress more, making you glad that he has you backed against the wall and blocked with his body. He leans in, pressing his leg against your inner thigh, knocking it out an inch or so, widening your stance. Your entire body flushes with heat and it has nothing to do with the humid bar atmosphere.

Your head lolls back, hitting lightly against the wall, and you hum. “It’s really fucking hot though,” you murmur, tipping your head up so you can press a kiss to the edge of his chin. “All that fingering,” you giggle the innuendo, finding it cheesy even as you say it.

Mat huffs a laugh against your temple. His fingers loosen their grip in the fabric of your dress, letting the damp and sure to be wrinkled fabric fall back against your thigh. “I already have a fingering side-gig,” he informs you, his hand slipping underneath the hem of your dress. He presses the pads of his fingers up against the soaked fabric of your panties and you gasp, jolting your hips forward. He strokes the fabric slowly, dropping kisses against your temple and down the side of your face. He works you over through the fabric, sticky arousal collecting between your legs. The lace surely can’t be doing much at this point and Mat’s fingers slide over your inner thighs. His calloused fingertips catch and snag on the lace, stuttering his work and making your clit throb.

“I can’t believe I’m gonna let you touch me after that line,” you laugh, choking off into a little gasp when Mat snaps the elastic of your panties against the crease of your thigh.

“You started it,” he reminds you, a cocky smirk gracing his lips. His forehead touches yours as his fingers continue their exploration, trailing up and dipping under the waistband of your panties. Your stomach clenches when he stops inches from where you really want him and you bump his nose with yours. “You’re not supposed to start things you can’t finish,” he warns, pressing closer to you, sliding his fingers lower. Your skin is hot, sweat beading at your hairline from the effort of keeping your legs from trembling.

You let out a harsh exhale. “Mat,” you mumble his name, grabbing at his wrist with both hands, trying to force his hand lower. He shakes his head against yours and doesn’t budge, your muscle strength no match for his. “We’re in public.” As if to punctuate your sentence, the drummer goes into a solo, the beat of the sticks on the drums pounding in time with your heart.

His fingers curl briefly and then they’re gone, leaving you cold and hot and frustrated. “Okay,” he says, shrugging. There’s an infuriating smirk on his face when you manage to look up. “I’ll behave.” He flips the hem of your dress down and smooths his palm over the fabric.

“I…what…Mat!” You stutter, the throbbing between your legs pounding in time with your heart. “You can’t just…” your voice trails off and you press your thighs together - or try to at least - Mat’s muscled leg is still in between yours and prevents you from giving yourself any relief.

Your absolute menace of a boyfriend holds his index finger - the one that had just been making a home in between your legs and is still wet with your arousal - up to his lips and shushes you. “Shh, I’m trying to listen to the music,” he smirks, sliding his other hand down the wall behind you and wrapping it around your shoulders, easily manhandling you so your back is leaning against his chest while he leans against the wall. You’re so stunned by the delayed pleasure that you don’t resist at all. Mat reaches around you and picks up your half-empty High Noon and knocks it back, holding the can lightly and sliding his arm from around your shoulders to wrap around your waist, forearm pressed against your stomach. His broad palm rests on your opposite hip, blunt nails scratching lightly and absently.

He hums along to the music in your ear and you sink back against his chest, still frustrated, muttering, “I can’t believe you shushed me.” Mat exhales a little laugh and kisses the side of your neck, scraping his teeth against your pulse point. Your head suddenly feels too heavy for your neck and you drop it back against his shoulder, giving Mat easier access to kiss your cheekbone. “Take me home,” you whine quietly, silently willing Mat’s hand to drift lower, but it remains stubbornly planted on the jut of your hip bone.

Mat’s nose bumps against your temple and you catch the scent of his cologne, mixed with the citrusy sweet alcoholic scent of the High Noon on his breath. He lazily rolls his hips forward, the hard bulge of his erection pressing against the curve of your ass. You grind back against him, whining low in the back of your throat. “Mat, please, I wanna go home,” you mumble, the vibration of the music rattling through your chest. Your hands wrap around Mat’s forearm, squeezing. “C’mon, take me to bed.”

“Babe,” Mat’s arm tightens around you, pulling you harder against his erection. You push your ass into him again, nearly grinding over the thigh that’s still in between your legs, desperate for relief. He holds you in place. “Thought we were in public?” His voice is slightly strangled, his breathing hitching when you press back harder, slipping a hand behind your back and in between your bodies. It takes a second, but you manage to wiggle your hand into place, pressing the heel of your palm, hard, against the fly of his jeans. Mat sucks in a sharp breath and he pinches your hip in warning, his head dipping down and his teeth sinking into the side of your neck in a matching warning nip. You hiss at the sting of his teeth, knowing there’s going to be a mark there in the morning when he sucks gently at the spot, tracing his tongue over the faint impressions of his teeth.

“We don’t have to be,” you murmur, brushing your knuckles against the ridge of his erection. “You have a very nice car that can get us home in twenty minutes.”

Mat’s breath is harsh in your ear, the empty can in his hand making a crunching noise when he crumples it in his fist. Your arm is starting to go a little numb, twisted behind your back and pressed in between your bodies, and you’re desperately hoping Mat gives up and gives in to what you want soon. His hand flexes over your hip and you grind down on his thigh again, hiccuping a breath at the drag of his jeans and your lacy panties over your swollen clit. Faintly, you wonder if you’re causing a scene, if people are watching you both, but Mat’s hands aren’t anywhere they shouldn’t be and your grind on his thigh could easily be mistaken for drunken dancing.

“Think you can wait twenty minutes, babe?” Mat jerks his hips into your ass, tossing the can back onto the table top and wrapping his other arm around your stomach so you’re caged against him. You wiggle your hand out from behind your back just before it’s completely lost feeling. “Moving pretty good on my thigh,” he bounces it lightly, sending shockwaves up your spine. “Think you could get off like this?”

Yes, is your immediate thought.

You have and can use Mat’s thick, muscled thigh to get yourself off. Most recently two nights ago, lazily grinding yourself over him on the couch while half-heartedly watching a movie. But tonight, with alcohol and lust fogging your brain and the image of Mat’s capable fingers working the guitar strings, you don’t want his thigh.

“Wan’ your fingers,” you turn your head and press the tip of your nose against the side of his neck, nuzzling him. He smells so fucking good. Mat chuckles, kissing your forehead. “You’re so good with your fingers.” Your hands cross your stomach, covering his hands, and you play with his fingers, lacing them with yours.

“You’re good at getting what you want,” Mat grins and you can feel the lift of his cheek against the side of your head. He squeezes you in a hug once, tightly, before loosening his grip. “You gotta walk in front of me to the car, babe. Hide the evidence of what you do to me, don’t wanna get in trouble.”

Your heart kicks up its tempo in your chest and you lift your head from Mat’s shoulder. “Home?” You ask brightly, wiggling and turning in Mat’s arms, your own coming up to loop around his neck.

“Yeah, home,” he laughs, smirking, cupping your cheek with one large hand and dragging your face up to his for a deep kiss. His hips roll mindlessly against yours and you lift higher on your toes to press flush against him, the throbbing between your legs building. When he breaks the kiss off, there’s a mischievous little gleam in his eyes and a slightly mean curl to his lips. “But you don’t get to touch. I’m gonna practice on you, okay, babe?” He taps his fingertips against your cheek, “just these. Gonna practice my finger placement.” Mat’s eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with lust, obscuring the usual hazel-green color.

Your head bobbles up and down in an agreeable nod. You’ll agree to almost anything just to get Mat’s fingers inside your throbbing cunt. You also know that he’s a total softie and as much as he tries to act stern and tough, once you get into bed with him it’s only a matter of time before he gives up the act and gives you whatever you want. Honestly, you’re both too horny for each other to really commit to the bit. Plus, you roll your hips up into Mat’s, based on the rock hard erection he’s sporting, you’re not even sure Mat’ll be able to keep to the promise of giving you only his fingers.

His hand slides back from your cheek and tangles in the messy bun knotted at the nape of your neck, gently pulling so your face tilts up. “Let’s get out of here,” he grins, kissing the corner of your mouth and turning you around swiftly, one hand resting on your lower back to push you in front of him and through the crowd. You reach back and tangle your fingers with his free hand, a zap of excitement running up your spine when Mat’s hand slides lower and grabs a handful of your ass.

You’re navigating the crowd with Mat hot on your heels, purposely stepping on the backs of your sandals and laughing when you whip your head around to glare at him. His hand flexes against your lower back, warm through the cotton, and he uses his hand in yours to pull you back slightly so your ass bumps against his groin. “Gotta move a little faster, babe,” he teases.

“You’re a fucking menace, Mathew,” you grumble, a laugh startling out of your chest when Mat finally urges you out the front door and crowds you up against the front of the bar. Heat pools low in your stomach and you lick your lower lip reflexively. Mat grins down at you and ruffles a hand through his hair. It’s messy, the little wings sticking out around his ears and neck, and all you want to do is tangle your fingers in it and pull while he eats you out. And you tell him so, watching with delight as his eyes glaze over a little and his mouth goes slack.

“Why the fuck are we still standing here then?” He asks, voice a little strangled.

A giggle slips past your lips. “You tell me, Van Halen.” Your hands slide up Mat’s arms and over his shoulders so your fingers can twist in his hair. Mat hisses when you tug gently. “Why aren’t we in the car or at home where you can get those talented fingers knuckle deep in me?”

Mat groans your name and drops his forehead to your shoulder, growling a little against your overheated skin. His hands slide to your waist, gripping tightly. You grin wickedly, even though he can’t see it, and tug his hair again. “If you get me home soon, I’ll show off my skills,” you murmur into his ear, tongue darting out to trace the shell of his ear.

“Fuck,” Mat grunts, grabbing your hand and nearly yanking your shoulder out of its socket with the force of pulling you down the street to his parked car. Your giggles echo around the quiet street, the humid air enveloping you and making your hair frizz around your temples. At the car, Mat pushes you up against the side, grasping your chin in one hand and kisses you, hard and bruising, his tongue dipping in your mouth. His other hand slides up your dress and he presses his thumb against your clit, the rasp of the lace on your clit providing extra simulation. Your knees go weak and you moan into his mouth, flattening your palms against the side of the car for stability. A rush of heat floods between your legs and the longer Mat’s lips are on yours, the wetter you get. At this point you’re not sure if it’s sweat or arousal that’s dripping down the inside of your thighs. He slides his tongue over your lower lip and rubs his fingers against your damp panties again, eliciting a strangled noise from the back of your throat.

When Mat breaks the kiss, pulling back from your face and breathing heavily, you blink up at him, completely dazed and lust drunk. He kisses the tip of your nose and squeezes the inside of your thigh and you giggle, unable to stop the words from slipping out of your mouth, “are you gonna play Wonderwall before or after I get my orgasms?”

A laugh barks out of Mat’s mouth and he pinches your ass cheek, making you squeal. “Just for that, it’s gonna be before,” he laughs again, reaching behind you to pull open the passenger door. You fold into the seat, making sure to flash Mat a little before yanking the door shut and grinning at him from behind the window.

“Who’s the menace now, babe?” Mat sticks his tongue out at you, laughing, his eyes dancing with mischief.

“Still you,” you tease back, wrinkling your nose at him, knowing he’s going to be so worked up the more you poke fun at him. “Now get in the car, I’m gonna put Wonderwall on so we can get straight to the fingering practice when we get home.”

#mat barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal x you #mat barzal fic #new york islanders

[boomhoon]

EXPRESS MOON

A jungwon drabble— inspired by Jo Yuri

synopsis: A late night walk with your best friend leaves you feeling otherworldly

content: 480 word drabble, fluff, gn reader, besties to lovers. SUPER short because i wrote this on a whim 😭

I alternated my attention between my window and the text message from Jungwon: I’ll be right outside ur window in 3 mins . A little cryptic, and normally I would be concerned if it wasn’t for the fact that I had been waiting for this moment all day. I really needed to see him again.

My alarm clock showed a bright 2AM, a reminder to sleep which i chose to ignore. I brought my head to my pillow, but stopped once I saw a pair of hands waving from afar. I got up to walk over for the window, my grogginess disappearing with each step.

I unlocked the window and slowly opened it while Jungwon jogged over. “I hope I didn’t take too long.” He puffed out, and took my hand in his to pull me out of the one story house. His breath flew out like smoke against the winter night.

“You didn’t, it’s okay.” I reassured him. I straightened out my jacket which I had slipped on last minute, and we started walking down the street.

We took late night walks when the both of us were stressed, and couldn’t sleep. Due to the darkness, we only had our voices for expression. It didn’t matter what we looked like at night, and there was no pressure with having to see someone’s gaze on you. But it wasn’t like Jungwon would judge me anyway.

“Y/n, I’m really glad I met you.” Jungwon blurted out suddenly. I stopped and blinked a couple of times. Jungwon stopped to turned around and walked closer. “I’m glad I met you too, Jungwon.” I tried searching for his eyes in the dark. When I found them I swore they were the stars in the night sky. The moon behind him was raised high and right above him.

“You’ve always comforted me. Even when I didn’t even realize I needed it. I find myself wanting to hear your voice, your sweet laugh, or to see you smile.” He laughed and once again, his breath flew up into the sky.

“Jungwon-“ I started to say, “Wait,” He cut me off. “I just-well, I like you Y/n. No, i’m in love with you.” We stared at each other, I could see his face more clearly now.

“You don’t have to love me back, but you deserve to know.” He glanced into the distant streetlights, and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Jungwon, I love you too. I realized this a while ago. I feel like i’ve been brought throughout the galaxy whenever i’m with you. ” I bit my bottom lip out of pure nervousness at my sudden confession. I’ve never hinted how I felt before. But it was better now than never. He turned over to face me and lifted his hands out of his pockets.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, I nodded a ‘yes’. He slowly cupped my cheeks and leaned in. The coldness disappeared, and we both became flushed. Our lips melted together, and it sparked a flame within us. My hands wrapped around Jungwons neck, pulling him closer while he gently caressed my cheeks with his cold fingers. I could feel him smile into the kiss, and a soft sigh escaped him. It was sweet, with no rush to move on. We became one for a moment, our body and souls intertwining closer than ever during our friendship— now a newly found different type of love.

The only ones watching us: The moon, the stars, and the space beyond. With jungwon; love is at night, with the emotion of the whole universe .

taglist: @sanasour @mars101

a/n: any interaction is greatly appreciated, thanks for reading!!! 🙏🙏

#enhypen jungwon #enhypen #jungwon x reader #jungwon fluff #enhypen fluff #jungwon drabbles #i love jungwon #Spotify #jungwon #inspired by jo yuri #jo yuri #yang jungwon #jungwon scenarios #jungwon x y/n #jungwon x you

[megamindmegatron]

Let me be your tomorrow tonight

Pairing : Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Genre : long relationship lovers to Ex's to back to lovers, very slight angst, fluff, suggestive?

Warning : None, mentions of alcohol, mentions of drunk bakugou

You were truly foolish because he had been fooling with someone who isn’t who they used to be,someone who wasn’t you. Who’s idea was this anyways? Which one from the relationship decided that you needed space from one another, you just got closer with each other. On the late night’s missing the little things so simple as his text “baby come over?” But you couldn’t forget on those nights how he tasted, the sweet soft feeling of  caramel lips that melted against yours with the hint of the bitter alcohol he would sometimes have lingering on his tongue after the night out with the boys. 

Groaning you got out of bed realizing there was no point for you to lay in bed you’ve been tossing the entire night, looking at the digital clock on your bed that read 1.30am was not helping with your conflicted feelings. Getting up from the bed and heading towards the quiet lifeless kitchen you turned the lights on as you rummaged through your cabinet looking for the specific whiskey glass that he would use, once grabbing it and the bitter alcohol you poured a half into the glass before taking a sip and heading towards your balcony stepping into the cool night breeze you relished however the beautiful inky blue sky and the whiskey weren’t helping the memories to be drowned away.

“We need a break” 

“We need a break”

You both looked at each other at the unison both of you knew you needed space.

“It’s hard Kat it’s hard sometimes I don’t feel like you want me anymore” you hugged yourself, glancing around the house at anything other than him “feels like this is a chore when you come over” Bakugou couldn’t say anything hurt and taken back that this was how you were feeling, how long had you been feeling this way? Both of you started dating so young in high school, it was exciting getting to know each other more and more and the stolen kisses that happened during training always left both of you giggling from the butterflies. “I think we just need a little space” he started softly “We’ve been together since we were sixteen that’s almost five years of us together” and he loved it he truly did however he knew the two of you needed time for yourselves and to figure out where the relationship was headed. You nodded your head that night as you agreed.

You only lasted 3 months without him before he began circling through your mind again. Was he taking care of himself? did he force himself to finally finish on reports and head to bed was he thinking about you

You thought the relationship was losing its spark, you thought your hearts wouldn’t beat for each other anymore. How wrong you were, you began loving him even more if that was even possible.With a final sip of your whiskey you went back inside setting the glass in the sink before tiredly waddling your way into your room however upon opening the door and walking in you were not prepared to see a familiar blonde hovering outside your window in the dark sky from his quirk.

You could’ve swore your jaw almost dropped down to the floor before quickly making your way towards the window and opening it by it’s handle “What the fuck are you doing outside my window at almosr 2 in the mornin?!” you exclaimed, sticking your head out as you looked at him in a mix of surprise and confusion “ needed to see ya” his words sounded slur as you sighed knowing he was probably drunk “are you kidding me? You're drunk and flying!” you shouted in worry before his signature smirk rose on his face “Calm down i’m perfectly stable-” and as he said that he almost lost his ability to keep himself raised in the air. You shook your head waving your hands for him to come in “ get in now!” you spoke sternly “oh are you trying to assert your dominance on me” he asked flirtatiously as  you shook your head leaning your body carefully outside the window you managed to grab his arm and pull him inside. He stumbled in not expecting the strength of your pull. Once again probably the hundredth time that you sighed that night went over to your night stand tossing him your water bottle before heading to your closet and pulling out a fresh towel and some of his old clothing that you still kept before walking back to him. You watched as he gulped down the cold water and set it on the other side of the night stand. That's where he kept his things when he was staying over when you two were dating.

“ Here if you’re gonna be staying over freshen up so you can sober up quick” “yes ma'am” he said giggling before heading to the bathroom. You went back to lying on your bed as you began scrolling through socials, 30 minutes later he came out with hair still damp, chest bare and only in his boxers as he went to his old side of the bed “ What do you think you're doing? I didn’t say you could join me in bed let alone half naked!” you exclaimed as he laid back in a sigh of contentment before you felt his index finger on your lips to shush you, you raised a brow as you stared back at his goofy smile, yes the katsuki bakugou smiling at you goofy. 

“ oh c’mon we both know you want me to” he was right and you hated that he was right

“ and it’s way too hot to wear clothes right now besides your wearing that sexy silk red nightgown. How is that fair?” he pouted “ that’s because i wasn’t expecting any visitors at 2 in the morning dumbass!” you gently slapped his finger away as you huffed annoyed at the situation it wasn’t fair that after all this time he comes visiting you drunk and acting like the break never happened “you know we’re on a break” you reminded before bakugou groaned and pushed you back to lie down on your back on the mattress as he hovered slightly over you his red ruby eyes burning into yours “ have you maybe wrapped your dumbass brain that I missed you?” he spoke but you narrowed your eyes to him “ why that girl on your instagram story was not enough?” you questioned “ no she wasn’t because she wasn’t you” your heart stopped for a brief moment  before you felt something heavy on your chest you looked down seeing the blonde’s head on top slowly pulling the covers over you two “I don’t want to get into about this so early in the morning” he mumbled before wrapping his arms around your waist “for now let me be your tomorrow tonight” he sighed tiredly as he yawned before his eyes fluttered shut from your fingers running through his hair. You smiled as the annoyance was starting to disappear this was why you loved the man and both of you were stupid to ever doubt each others love for one another.

#bakugou x you #bakugou headcanons #bakugou imagine #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bakugo katuski #bakugou fluff #katsuki x reader #mha headcanons #mha imagines #mha fanfiction #bnha imagines #bnha fanfiction #bnha bakugo katsuki

[steelycunt]

ten books 2 know me!

thank for you the tag @pancakehouse @fruity-individual @serethereal @rollercoasterwords !

-> skulduggery pleasant, derek landy.

starting with this one because this WAS my childhood i was. i never read percy jackson never read twilight read [redacted] and it wasnt even good but my dad thought id like these so he bought me the first skulduggery pleasant one day...oh man oh boy...these were. i was eight queuing up outside a whsmith with a schoolbag full of books for the author's booksigning...also he was so nice ta derek x

-> giovanni's room, james baldwin.

cannot get into this too much before i start wailing and biting and stuff but well. giovanni's room is my favourite book of all time i read most of it. last year in june laying on brighton beach while the sun was going down and i have never recovered from and will you bring me home again / yes. i'll bring you home again since and fear i never will. also! first james baldwin book i read who has come to be an author whose writing style i adore and carry in my mind whenever i try to write something myself.

-> young mungo, douglas stuart.

not the first book i ever cried at but. first book i ever experienced disgusting full body sobs while reading and fierce competitor also for. my favourite book. had to reread so much of those final pages because i couldnt concentrate with all the crying and after that i am so excited to never have to experience the physical chest-aching worry that i did for the duration of reading this. also i think the very quiet way love is written here through. very trivial small things is something i loved very much and that has stayed with me!

-> wuthering heights, emily bronte.

read this when i was about eleven, and then again a few weeks ago with my mum (whose favourite book it is) and it was still so. absolutely sickening i just think its excellent xx and without it we wouldn't have kate bush's 1978 single wuthering heights so xx think on that xx

-> the autobiography of malcom x, alex haley.

when i was a child my younger sister joined a sunday league football team and my dad used to give her a tenner every time she scored a goal. to even things out since i refused to get up at the arsecrack of dawn to contract hypothermia on a frozen football pitch, he started giving me books exclusively on malcolm x to read and would give me a tenner every time i finished one. this one was the first i read and was indeed the first book that ever made me cry at the end xx

-> my brilliant friend, elena ferrante.

so many of these are recent reads because it was only jan 2022 that i made a genuine effort to get back into reading for leisure and mbf is no different but well. the way friendship is written here is just unhinged and incredible and the series in general so far has been. there is nothing like it i fear

-> the raven boys, maggie steifvater.

gansey unfortunately.

-> macbeth, william shakespeare.

okay i know i know but. when you are studying it in englit class for your gcse it might as well be a book innit. anyway of all the texts i did for english both at gcse + a level macbeth is still my favourite and probably the most effort i ever put into an english essay. special shoutout to frankenstein which i can enjoy in hindsight but unfortunately it fucked me on the exam so out of bitterness it doesnt get a place here x

-> the secret history, donna tartt.

i did inhale this book but also it gets a place purely for being my first exposure to donna tartt's writing and style in general which is so very distinctive and has. undoubtedly had an effect on me for better or for worse we shall one day see but for now. who can say!

-> foster, claire keegan.

it is a little pamphlet of a book at eighty six pages but. i read it just over a month ago and havent properly stopped thinking about it since it was just everything quiet + mundane + understated that makes my brain start sparking and whirring and. im bringing it on holiday in the summer so i can read it again in the appropriate season xx

tagging. but no pressure. @gaewaren @dykefever @emerqldv @fastasyoucan1999 @forlorngarden @writteninverses @boyjoan !!

#also it doesnt quite earn a place but the enemy series by charlie higson? no one ever seemed to read those but that was my fucking last of #us. that was my mazerunner. that was my dystopian YA (bar the hunger games okay yeah i was a hunger games girl wasnt everyone) #considered putting the beatles in their generation on here but managed to avoid it thank god. also no future by matthew worley #which was a dense slog into british punk as a politics and youth subculture but also well i learned a lot about my favourite topic #tag game #reading tag #will b fun to see how i would do this a little while on from now. like what maintains its spot + what gets bumped n stuff

[blue-the-hedgehog]

Stiles had been in an undercover mission for a year. His superiors had begged him to do it because who would be better than a spark to get into a magic mafia? He had accepted when he had been promised that he could been contacted in case of big death-threatening emergency call from his family.

Still It was hard, he had to limit his contact with his family for there safety, and for himself. To cary his mission he had created Void, taken a little in the nogitsune experience and in his own mischievous self. One year of being a magic mafia man, one year of being someone else.

But it Was finally over! They had been arrested. He was finally free. As soon as he was back at the office he checked his phone. He had a lot of text messages and a whole lot of calls. So to know the freshest news he started with the last week voicemail … and now he was pissed. His dad’s sad voice was telling him that his husband had died will helping to get rid of the nogitsune. That was the first annoying thing. They all had his emergency number and nobody had tried to reach him to help. He would had manage to help! But what had piss him most was the last three voicemails from his dad, Cora and Peter, all of them panicked and angry. Scott had took Eli and bring him to LA with Allison. And nobody had known about it, worst,Scott wouldn’t answer any phone call. So Stiles was pissed. He took the first plane for LA and made his research. Find his place, his schedule, literally everything.

Once at Scott’s, nobody was home. So he took a look around. They didn’t had talk in years, since two or three years before Eli was born. He took in all the pictures and all that could create a picture of Scott life. The more he took, the more he was angry. It was Scott who stopped talking to Stiles and the fact that he had clearly not change in his stupidly selfishness was infuriating.

He sat in the armchair facing the door gun in hand, magic buzzing purple in the other. He wanted to make the guy freak out, he wanted his baby pup back. A mischievous grin appeared on his lips.

Void was in the house baby~

The door opened at 10PM, Scott jumped as he saw the man in the armchair,grinning and aiming his gun at him. Like the damn mafia man he had seen on TV and that nobody had known Stiles had been for a full year.

« Hello Scotty boy, care to explain me why you took my son with you without any form of warning? »

His friends froze. Eli was behind and tried to came to him. Thinking that the boy was just curious Scott stopped him, holding firmly his wrist.

« Don’t! It’s the nogitsune again ! Don’t you ear him, he’s telling some bullshit  »

Stiles sighted and stood up. He was so angry. He couldn’t handle someone keeping his baby from him as he was near, he had never handled that someone would hold so strongly his pup. Purple electricity creeping from him. Tattoos on in skin glowing.

«No it’s me, Let my kid alone Scott I’m not joking, If you don’t I will burn everything»

Eli get rid of Scott arms and run to his papa, almost tackled him.

« Dad he’s… I couldn’t do anything… he..»

Stiles hugged his kid thightly as he cried, stroking tenderly his hair.

« It’s okay my baby wolf, it’s okay. Papa will fix everything, I’m used to their stupid ideas. I’m sorry that you had to go through those idiots plans»

When the two parted, Allison draw a gun and Scott leaped to Stiles. In a second Allison’s gun flew in the air and Scott took a bullet in the knee. They all looked at Stiles in shock. He put his gun away again, tucking it in his jeans.

« You are the ones who attacked me ok? Don’t be a princess Scott ,it’s a regular bullet and be glad that I didn’t burned you alive »

Scott grunted on the floor as the huntress came near him.

« He’s not your son!��»

Allison helped Scott to stand, never looking away from Stiles. This wasn’t her high school friend in anyway.

« Yes he’s right, he’s Derek’s son not yours Stiles »

Stiles and Eli looked each other, cocking an eyebrow and turned to them, Stiles’ hand going from one face to another

« Yeah…obviously Derek choose to just cloned me because he know that you stupid people could use another real brain!»

Stiles was loosing patience he had a tight schedule, resurrecting his husband was something that needed certain circumstances and if it wasn’t done tomorrow they will have to wait a year. And playing with Scott wasn’t fun enough.

« Now if you don’t mind I have a husband to get back from wherever he is. Look what you get for not calling me. Inducing a fire related trauma to a Hale …good job! »

Stiles searched for Eli’s stuff as the teenager took his bag. Scott was looking to him in shock.

« YOUR WHAT?! »

« My husband Scott, you know it’s a man you usually love and decide to have marriage with»

«Who’s your husband?»

Stiles sighed as he get the last of Eli’s stuff.

«Derek is my husband, Eli is our son. How? Mating a Spark and awerewolf can do miracles»

« Since when?! »

« Eli’s Papa for 15 years, Derek’s husband for 13 , you would have known if you had kept caring about me»

Eli looked at Scott like he was know thinking that Scott was stupid

« That’s what I tried to tell you Alpha! But you shut me up with your Alpha voice so…even if Dad told you that I was your beta.. you should have listened »

Stiles stiffened suddenly and pull his son against him.

« Nop, he is not your Alpha, you still have time to choose. Whatever your idiot Dad had say! I’m going to have a word about that »

He shot a dangerous glance to Scott, magic electricity in hand.

« Don’t ever try to stole my kid again. I’ll shot you with wolfbane next time or maybe use magic~ Am I clear? »

He had a wicked smile, he was threatening.

« You have change Stiles… »

Scott looked disappointed and Stiles laughed at this look.

« Not really, I’m just a man who’s husband is dead and son’s had been abducted by an Alpha and a freshly reborn huntress like he was just an abandoned puppy. And who had discovered all this after a year long mission! I haven’t change ! I’m just angry at you and your stupidity and unconsciousness! »

Purple lightnings came out of Stiles skin, he was angry again.

«You didn’t even ask the permission to Peter, Cora or even Malia to took in a Hale child! Whatever Derek had said ! He’s not a stray dog, he’s an human being Jesus Christ Scott ! Think sometimes would you?! Everyone is worried! And you didn’t answer anyone ! Peter was running around for twenty four hours to find Eli and he was so much traumatized that he had saw his nephew burn like the rest of his family that he thought Eli wasn’t real when he couldn’t find him! My dad his so much worried that he didn’t left the sheriff station! »

Scott looked ashamed.

« I will come with you and apologize… I’m sorry Stiles… I should have at least ask Cora or Malia »

«Yeah I hope so! Or you would be stupid to not apologize ! Flight in one hour. Let’s go»

They get out , Eli looking at his papa like he was his hero.

«You are sooo cool papa»

« You dad never told you? I’m an Hale savior ~ And I missed my pup~ Now let’s get you Dad here »

Once arrives in Beacon hill they were expected. The Hale and the sheriff just kept hugging Eli. Peter rambling on how much he had miss his pup, Cora on how much she was scared to loose her only nephew, Malia just scenting him and grandpa Stilinski checking for injuries.

Scott apologize under a row of reprimanding gaze. They all yelled at him and how he have to take some kind of « how to Alpha » lessons. But everyone earned a scolding from Stiles for not calling him right away when the Nogitsune had appeared.

Stiles get back his husband, the next night. It was a tricky and complex ritual that Stiles had luckily learn will he was undercover. Stiles shirtless torso tattoo were glowing with some kind of purple and moon’s argent light. Everyone was here and looked at the silhouette emerging from a bright light on the nemeton.

When Derek’s newly red eyes crossed Stiles purples one, he was happy and quickly knew he was screwed . The spark had that poisoned sweet smile. Eli was about to throw himself to his dad when he felt Peter’s and Cora’s arm keep him in his place. In a second Stiles was on the tree stump and a strong slap had echoed with a wave of purple dust. Stiles start hitting him on the chest, absolutely not caring that his husband was naked.He had a point to make.

 « What in the freaking hell where you thinking! Why do you have give my pup to Scott?! Why are you the one to sacrifice himself when you have a child to raise!! You where supposed to keep BOTH of you safe this year! What do you think I felt when I learned that the awful chest pain I felt a few days ago was my husband dying ?! And that my baby had been tear out from me without anyone knowing about it?!You are stupid Derek Stilinski-Hale! Our son is now traumatized of fire !! DON’T YOU DARE DYING AGAIN ! Jesus Christ red alpha look good on you…! I fucking love you Stupid Sourwolf!»

« those new tattoos look good on you too, thank you to have bring me back. I missed you and I love you my little red riding hood. »

And then Stiles kissed Derek like he needed it to stay alive in front of a shocked and desperate crowd. The mafia-like threatening that Scott and Allison had suffered was a big story. And a few of Void antics stay in the daily behavior of Stiles. But from now on, everybody knew that if you hurt someone that the Hale’s spark Stiles Stilinski-Hale love, you would have to deal with Void. And it would be the last thing you would do in your life.

(Sorry sometimes my brain get a rush of imagination >.>)

#stiles stilinski #teen wolf #sterek #fix it fanfiction #i got a little carried away #mafia stiles would be so cool tho #bad friend scott McCall sorry

[scribbling-dragon]

Adaptive Nature

Chapter 14

Summary:

"So," Tango starts, and he's shuffling in his seat, making the rickety wood groan as they look at each other from across the table, "Maybe we didn't explain everything particularly well last time. And!" Tango raises his voice before he can even consider laughing at the understatement. "I reconsidered and prepared. So I came with a few notes."

(AO3 Link)

(Masterpost)

(5,124 words)

(hey! hi! did you like reading this? yes? maybe consider...reblogging? it helps a bunch! and i love seeing your comments in the tags :] just something to consider though because this took me a while lol)

"So," Tango starts, and he's shuffling in his seat, making the rickety wood groan as they look at each other from across the table, "Maybe we didn't explain everything particularly well last time. And!" Tango raises his voice before he can even consider laughing at the understatement. "I reconsidered and prepared. So I came with a few notes."

His shuffling manages to produce a small stack of notes, the edges of the paper curled and softened, slightly worn, and in one rather impressive case, missing the whole of the bottom corner of a page. However, the thing that catches his eye the most is the copious amounts of glitter ink scrawled across the lines of text and bunched together in the margins, going far more into detail than he could have imagined.

He looks up. Tango looks nervously back at him. "This is not a few notes." He's not sure whether to laugh or cry, because this is really incredibly endearing, and to think he didn't even give Tango the time of day the first time he tried to explain…well. It makes him feel more than a little guilty.

“Well,” Tango laughs, eyes darting away, then back again, and his face feels warm with the realisation that they're leaning across the table, faces incredibly close to each other. If he wanted to he could just lean forward and- “I had plenty of time to think about what could have been said better.” He jerks back, as though burned, watching as Tango’s eyes flicker away again, back down to the notes that he’s spread out across the table.

He’s the one to shift in his seat this time, grimacing as it squeaks, sounding dangerously close to just collapsing in on itself. He rubs a knuckle into his knee, hoping to relieve the ache that has slowly been building since he dismounted Arrow.

“It’s been a day.” He says, still taken aback by the sheer quantity of notes and research that Tango has managed to gather.

“Time goes slower when you're in isolation.” Tango laughs, rummaging through his notes and steadfastly ignoring his stare. He continues to stare anyway, the last few words still processing in his mind as Tango continues to search, shuffling through pages he’s already looked at.

“Isolation?”

“Self-imposed.” Tango replies, still not looking up, separating some of the pages out and stacking them neatly. The sound of him tapping the edge of the paper against the table echoes in the silence that follows.

“Wanna elaborate?”

“Not really, look,” Tango shoves some of the notes across the table at him. He doesn't bother to start reading, still staring at Tango. “Don't look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you're really disappointed in me. Or worried for me. Or something equally dumb.”

“I'm not…disappointed in you, I’m just-”

“Reading these notes,” Tango shoves them a little closer towards him. “Read them. You wanted a proper explanation, so, here it is.”

“I don't even know where to start with this Tango,” he looks over the pages, eyes catching where Tango has underlined certain words and where he’s doodled a small egg in a purple glitter pen, small sparks jumping off of it.

“You didn't believe us when we told you, so read it instead.” Tango gestures for him to read, but he places the pages down anyway, flipping them over when his eyes continue to be drawn towards the glittering ink.

“And how am I meant to know this isn't just more lies?” He folds his hands on top of the pages and wills himself not to crumple in the face of Tango’s sad expression. “You could have forged this all, just to drag me off on more adventures.”

“You never had to come on those adventures if you hated them so much.” Tango’s expression changes in a second, eyes hardening.

“No, that’s not,” he scrambles to explain, realising his mistake far too late, just after the words had tripped outside of his mouth. “That’s not what I mean, Tango, please.”

“Then what do you mean, Sheriff?” He tries not to wince too obviously at the use of his title and the obvious scathing in Tango’s voice as he says it.

“Just, tell me why you think it’s me.” He asks, promising himself that it doesn't sound like he’s pleading. “I'm not even a dragon. I'm not even from this continent, what worth could an ancient god find in me?” What worth could an ancient god find in him that no one else could?

Tango remains tense for a moment longer, before slumping with an obvious sigh, seeming to deflate completely, right in front of him. He hunches over his notes, and he would assume Tango was reading over them again, though he’s actually rather certain he’s not reading anything currently in front of him.

“I'm sorry you thought we were lying to you. I'm not. I wouldn't want to lie to you, you know that, right?” Tango looks up, eyes shining, and not just from the flickering candle they've set on the edge of the table. “I-” Tango falters, looking, for once, lost for words entirely. He gives him a moment to collect himself, clenching his hand into a fist when his heart tells him to reach out across the table and enclose Tango’s hand within his own instead. He stays his hand, if only for a moment, watching to see what Tango can come up with.

“I'm sorry,” he repeats, “I should have fought Pix harder on this. Though, perhaps I should have disregarded him completely. It’s not as though he gets the final say in this, really, the person with the final say should have been you, but we didn't even give you that opportunity. Pixl just came to me, with this idea, this theory, that maybe, just maybe, he could have an explanation for the sudden hostility of the sculk, for the shifting of the earth and the resurfacing of items we had thought were long lost to time. Did you know, in the past few months, almost exactly coinciding with the time you set foot on this continent, we've had more reports of archaeological sites appearing than ever before? We’ve had reports from the Evermoore of cod migrating into the swamps, of them appearing in larger and larger schools than before, all swimming happily along a river they haven't been seen in ever. Don't you think that’s weird?”

“What’s so special about cod?” He asks, confused with Tango’s tangent of choice. “They're just fish.”

Tango laughs at that, shaking his head for a moment, before seeming to reign himself back in, shoulders only shaking for a moment longer. “What I wouldn't give for someone else to hear you say that.” He lets out another laugh, that mixes with a sigh as he cuts it off. “There was an emperor, one that ruled from the depths of the swamp with an easy hand and a fierce temper. He swam among the population of his swamp, and walked among those that populated the land. He was revered among those he lived with, though not as a god, or even a particularly good emperor. He was good to the land, and, in turn, the land was good to him. They called him the Codfather. He was the last in a long line of codfolk to take up the mantle of that name, to bridge the boundary between the water and land, and he was the one the title disappeared with.”

The candle flickers, and they both glance over at it. He can feel his heart in his throat, for some reason.

“We’re not entirely sure what happened to him after the Rapture. We have his personal records of his involvement with another empire before it occurred, the rise and fall of the Corruption during his time. He was a rather talented wordsmith, weaving words together, though many have criticisms for his lack of address for the Elvenking beyond Elvenking and the Chosen of Stags. Perhaps to defend his identity? Though I don't see why he would be so protective over the name of someone unless they would still hold immense power, years after their death.”

“What kind of power?”

“We’re not entirely sure, if I'm being honest. It’s not exactly my area of study, nor is it Pix’s. It’s a rather small section, really, focused more on the recovery from the Rapture rather than the actual event itself. From the descriptions the Codfather wrote of the Elvenking, we know they lived in mountains, housed amongst the ice and the snow, and weathering the conditions perfectly easily, as though they were in a warmer climate. This, obviously, suggests some kind of adaptation to the cold, though we’re not sure the extent of the adaptation. The other problem with the account is the Codfather’s rather…complementary view of the Elvenking. He described him as beautiful in every scene he appeared in, with blue hair, rather unusual, I know, and piercing eyes. And pointed ears that hardly moved, except when he laughed or was particularly upset. Honestly, I do believe the most important thing about him that we’ve managed to garner from the text is that he had antlers. Of pure gold, ones that did not regrow, even after years of a cracked branch, split and broken during their confrontation with the Corruption.”

“I do rather believe that this was some version of what happened to you. The account began with him listing suspicious behaviour of the Elvenking, and suggesting possible reasons for it. Though none were actually right in the end. The entry for the day it was revealed is rather distorted by time, there’s smearings of mud on the page and water has caused the ink to bleed until it’s practically unreadable. Though, we can discern, through what we read on that page and later notes, that he was apparently trapped in his own swamp for several hours by the voice of the Elvenking alone. Specifically, the Codfather’s own name. Which is rather skillfully omitted.”

“So…what? This Elvenking could just make people do whatever he wanted if he said their name?” He asks, “That doesn't seem like something I can do.”

“No,” Tango smiles, and it’s one of his grinning smiles, where his teeth just poke over his bottom lip and he can't help but stare, even though he knows he should really look away. “But it’s something fae can do.” He leans back in his chair, looking immensely satisfied with himself.

“Fae?” He asks, “What’s a fae?”

Tango’s expression immediately crumples, first into something shocked, then dismayed, then shocked again. “You,” he chokes, either on a laugh or on his own disbelief, “You don't know what a fae is?”

“No?” Tango chokes again, and maybe he should be a little bit more concerned, but he’s not going blue in the lips so he should be fine. Right? “Am I meant to?”

“Yes.” Tango nods, hard enough that his goggles slip back over his eyes and he has to shove them back up. “Yes, you very much so should know what a fae is. Gods above, you are so fortunate you didn't introduce yourself at that meeting today. Gods.” He drops his head into his hands, shoulders continuing to heave.

“Care to enlighten me?” Don't get him wrong, it’s a little funny watching Tango have his little breakdown, but he’d rather know what he’s talking about before he fully gets into it.

“Scott, you know, the ruler of Chromia?” He nods at Tango’s question, “He’s a fae. Fae steal your names and your identity and your whole sense of self for their own games. They live for thousands of years, usually only destroyed by their own hubris or carelessness. A fae is something mothers teach their children about when they're able to listen to bedtime stories, to warn them of the dangers and remind them to carry seeds in their pockets, teach them how to flip their jacket inside out in a moment’s notice if they live in an area that’s incredibly populated with them.”

“So…not good?”

“Not good. Not good at all.” Tango agrees with him. “Gods, I assumed you’d just grown up in an area with hundreds of fae if you were so wary about giving out your name, but you've simply not been aware of them this whole time?”

“I've never heard of fae before.” He affirms.

“I don't know whether you're lucky or not for that.” Tango tilts his head to the side. “Perhaps neither, yet also both. I'm not sure, really.” Tango continues to study him, head still tilted to the side. “If that’s the case, then why be so cautious about sharing your name? I would have thought someone with no prior interactions with fae to be giving their name out with reckless abandon.”

“I don't want to talk about it.” He ignores the curiosity that alights in Tango’s eyes, looking away. He feels slightly guilty for holding his name so close to his chest, though he knows it’s out of nothing but his own selfishness. He’s built something here, and he doesn't wish to see it destroyed so quickly. So soon. “It’s nothing.”

“Besides,” he clears his throat rather abruptly, making him jump alongside Tango, “Uh, I think we may have gotten a little off-track? We were…” he trails off, “I can't actually remember what we were talking about, honestly.”

“Neither can I, really.” Tango shrugs, “If we can't remember it’s hardly important, is it?”

“No, I suppose not.” He doesn't pause for long, doesn't let the conversation settle back into that not-quite comfortable silence. “The dragon still doesn't make sense to me.”

“What doesn't make sense?” Tango asks, leaning closer. The candlelight flickers in his eyes, making them seem deeper than they truly are. He could allow himself to get lost in Tango’s eyes, he reckons. He pulls his gaze away, back to the candle and its slowly shrinking stature.

“Everything.” He sighs, and it feels like a weight off his shoulders as he looks back at Tango.

“Well, it’s a lot to take in, I suppose. But, the dragon chose you, I guess. Presumably as soon as you stepped onto the continent, if the activity of the sculk is anything to go off of, not that we’ve really explained that, but I reckon it’s some kind of Corruption? A form of it, at the very least. We heard tales of bedrock from the surviving texts before the Rapture, that there was a certain point where you simply couldn't go down any longer, that you hit something that couldn't be broken, no matter how long you chipped away at it for. Yet, we only find this stone in small chunks, and we can easily pass below it, reaching the Cities that lie beneath the clusters.”

“How can the sculk be the Corruption?” He asks, “Surely it was banished by the last Chosen. The one before…me.”

“It was, presumably to somewhere the Chosen thought would never be touched, would never be met again. Presumably, below this bedrock layer into the presumed nothingness beneath. How would the Chosen know that it would re-emerge? One of the researchers described their readings on it as though the bedrock was some kind of cage, and yet, we have these Cities below, housed in the depths of the earth, hidden where no sunlight can ever reach. And yet we’ve reached it, we’ve passed through this bedrock layer into Cities that should have continued to lay undisturbed. Cities that are younger than the bedrock but older than the Warden. Is that not wrong to you?”

“Who coined the name Warden?” He asks, the thought striking him suddenly and from nowhere in particular.

“No one.” Tango responds. “It is what they have always been called, the words scrawled along the walls in the Cities simply say Warden, over and over again, until the words that were originally written are no longer discernible.”

“Spooky.”

“Spooky.” Tango agrees, nodding his head. “But the Dragon is different. She has been around since the beginning of time, seemingly, though whether She is the same in each iteration of Her story is yet to be seen. Perhaps She is simply a long line of Dragons, each passed the same purpose in governing Her Lost Empire.”

“But how would she know to choose someone?” He asks, still confused, “How would she know that the Corruption has returned.”

“I do not presume to know the thoughts of a God. Or something close enough to be referred to as one, anyway. She is unknowable, and the only evidence we have of her existing is in stories and art, with her scales painted upon a canvas or lovingly carved into the statue you met that day. Perhaps She doesn't exist, perhaps She was simply another bedtime story told to keep children inside after the sun set and the moon began its silent vigil.”

Tango looks oddly serious, the candle giving the shadows over his face more depth, drawing him further into the darkness that has long since settled in his kitchen. He can see the moon and its silvery light, barely peeking in through his window as it reaches its peak. He can, however, see how the silver light spills onto the terracotta, distorting the colours.

“It’s late.” Is all he says, when he turns away from the windows and finds Tango staring out at the moon too, eyes turning molten with the silver light they reflect. Tango jerks, as though startled, but turns slowly to face him again.

“It is.” He agrees.

“Far too late to consider riding back to the Guild, even if you are not on foot like Pixl.”

“I don't have anywhere else to sleep.” Tango says, and it feels rehearsed, feels too practised as his eyes glance away, then back. He seems to have to drag his eyes away from the moon. He recognises the feeling, yanking his focus back under control as he feels it begin to waver, exhaustion beginning to drag at his eyelids, weighing down his limbs as he stares across the table at Tango.

The candle has flickered and died, at some point, though the lack of light is negligible in the face of the moon and the growing exhaustion that tugs at his mind.

“You have here.” He responds, when he’s certain his tongue won't betray him with more than those words, that he’ll still be able to keep some secrets to himself as he traces the outline of Tango’s face in the moonlight, watches as his eyes flick back and forth, glowing slightly and casting an unusual softness over his face. He doesn't push, simply watching as Tango’s eyes flick back and forth, waiting for him to come to a decision.

He keeps his mouth firmly shut, even as his thoughts run wild with everything he could say, with the words he’s been keeping firmly bottled up for a while now, threatening to slip between his lips, pushed only by his traitorous heart. It beats steadily in his chest, slowly growing in tempo as the silence drags on.

“I’d like that.” Tango responds, and the moment shatters, his heart stilling its silent urges as he pushes his chair back instead, scraping over the floor and waking Norman, if the soft, sleepy chirrup he gives him is anything to go by.

He scoops Norman into his arms, leading the way when Tango stands too, back into the bedroom he’d haphazardly thrown together after their catastrophic meeting at the Guild. It’s hardly anything, but it has a bedframe and a mattress and a duvet, and it’s enough for him and Norman. And that’s really all he needs.

(The bed is too large for one person, with enough space for three people sandwiched in together. He knows this, even if he doesn't want to admit it to himself. He knows this, and he knows why this is. He doesn't admit it to himself, though. That would require courage, and he’s long since accepted that he will always be a coward at heart.)

“I don't have any mattresses.” He admits, and he knows Tango hasn't brought his bedroll with him. The emptiness of his bag and the bundles of paper in his arms tell him enough of how Tango had planned their meeting to go.

“Oh.” Tango says, and he looks faintly disappointed. “I can sleep on the floor, it can't be worse than netherrack, right?”

He blinks, and watches as Tango sets his bag in the corner of the room, simply resting the papers on top rather than shoving them back into the bag in the haphazard way he seems fond of.

“You can share with me.” He blurts out, and Norman complains at the loudness right beside his ears. He sets him down on the bed, and Norman seems perfectly content to curl up on his pillow and go straight back to sleeping.

Tango freezes, even his tail stilling from the lazy arc it had been sweeping over the floor.

“You don't have to, obviously, if you don't want to.” He hurries to correct his mistake, berating himself internally for allowing his heart to guide his actions rather than his brain. He’s learned his lesson there, well and truly. “I don't want to make you uncomfortable.” He finishes awkwardly, fighting the urge to shift back and forth, from foot to foot.

“You don't make me uncomfortable.” Tango says, rising from his crouched position on the floor, “Only, are you sure there’s enough room?”

“There’s enough room for three people in that bed,” he responds, brain taking a moment to catch up with Tango’s easy acceptance. “There should be room for me and you.”

“That’s good,” Tango lets out a sigh of relief, “I didn't want to seem a bad guest, but I really wasn't looking forward to sleeping on the floor.” Tango seemingly has none of the reservations he had, slipping past him and into the bed, hardly disturbing Norman from where he’s sleeping.

“Don't you want to get changed?” He asks, dumbly, before realising that there’s not much for him to get changed into. He has one pair of sleep clothes, and those would be ridiculously oversized on Tango, if they didn't just outright swallow him.

“Into what?” Tango apparently agrees with his inner monologue, because he snorts a laugh, before rolling over to face him properly. “I'm perfectly comfortable in my current clothes, don't worry. But don't let me stop you from getting changed, I doubt jeans are all that comfortable to sleep in.”

“Right.” He nods, picking up the discarded pyjamas. “I’ll be right back.”

And he was, changing hurriedly and outside of the room, before slipping into bed beside Tango. He would have thought he’d take longer to fall asleep, with his heart seemingly intent on bruising his ribs with how hard it’s beating.

But it’s easier to slip off into sleep than he remembers, relaxing into the mattress that really isn't all that comfortable.

Still, he blinks, and finds himself back in the End, the endless stars swirling around him as he takes one step forward, before pausing.

The Dragon sits ahead of him, tail curled around her talons. She doesn't lunge, doesn't loom ominously, curled around the pillar as she always is during their meetings. She doesn't snarl, and that disgusting mist doesn't curl around his ears and make him feel light-headed.

She simply watches, and he stares back.

“Jimmy.” She says, and her voice seems to shake the stars themselves, the entire realm trembling beneath her might. He drops to his knees, not sure what else to do in the face of such power. He doesn't expect the tears, welling up in his eyes and closing his throat at the sound of his own name.

He hasn't heard it spoken in…a long time. A time longer than he’s comfortable putting an exact number to. He doesn't want to think about it. It’s nothing.

“Yes?” He answers, and promises himself it doesn't sound like he’s squeaking even though he certainly is. The stone beneath his knees is beginning to make them ache.

“I am glad for your friend,” the dragon says, dipping her head in what might be a nod but also might be a vague approximation of a bow. “For he has opened your mind to me, and allowed me a true connection with you, rather than one that simply consisted of me stalking around the barriers you had put up.”

“I apologise,” he manages, “For the inconvenience.”

“Do not apologise,” she rumbles, “We stand on equal grounds, here.” He doesn't respond, and she sighs, looking towards the heavens. “I should likely be the one apologising, I am not usually the one dealing with this. I delegated this responsibility eons ago, but I am left as the sole survivor, and so I must take up this mantle again, as awkward as it may be a millenia later. So, truly, I do apologise for any stumbles on my part.”

“You don't seem awkward to me.” The way she speaks makes him sound entirely uneducated, though he knows that he was top of the class during writing exercises. “But, please, tell me why I'm here. Is it the Corruption? Do you truly think I am the one worthy enough to fight it?”

“That.” The Dragon spits, the sudden vitriol making him jerk back, only serving to make his knees ache even more. He should stand, relieve the pressure, but he can't find it in himself to move. “It is a filth upon your world, something that should never have been brought into existence in the first place. A stain upon your world, sprung from one of the Gods I foolishly created, yet you call it a mere corruption? Such a human word. There is always something so incredibly delightful about you mortals and your amusing use of the lexicon.”

“You created the Gods?”

“Aye,” she inclines her head, and the use of that word alone makes him wonder just how old this Dragon truly is. “Each and every one of them, I created their loves and passions, I gave them their affinities, and yet I gave them their weaknesses too. Something so human, something I hoped would allow me to bridge the gap between myself and the mortals. And yet,” she snarls, something dark settling in her eyes, “It has brought you nothing but suffering. The Gods lorded their power over you, making you bow to their every whim and command, no matter how demeaning or amoral.”

“And the Corruption? The Chosen?”

“From Gods of my own creation. Aeor and Exor, brothers destined to be matched in everything and to rule side by side, to kindle the flame amongst the snow, and drive outsides away with the cold. They were a perfect pair.” She considers him for a moment. “Aeor would have loved you,” she says, “He always did love the ones that struggled with forming connections with others, those intimacy issues that seemed as commonplace as snow among his Chosen. Perhaps that, too, was a flaw I accidentally imbued in him. Ice is an incredibly isolating factor, as dangerous as flame to the unprepared. He always did love having a puppet at his will, though, it was a shame he cut their strings as soon as their usefulness had expired. He had no concept of love in his being.”

She sighs, and it ghosts over him in a purple cloud that doesn't make his head spin. He breathes, and he doesn't choke, vision no longer wavering with the smog as it clears. His knees ache.

"I do believe the only reason his Last survived as long as he did was because the threat wasn't truly gone. The Corruption was twisted by then, and Exor reanimated the corpse of his Champion. Or are you calling them Chosen now? I can't quite remember anymore. But I truly think that's all that spared him, though in the end it did him little good. Only left his husband to grieve and search for someone that wasn't coming home." She shakes her head, "It's a shame, a true true shame. I never met him, but I was told stories of him. And one day I simply Knew, as though I had known him my whole life. The last Elvenking of Rivendell, what a sorry state of existence."

“A sorry state of existence?”

“He was cursed, as all of his kind was, to outlive those around him, to continue living even when others wouldn't. Only, he did not reach that. He should have, he should have suffered with the centuries weighing upon his shoulders until his mind could no longer bear the burden of his pain. But he died, a spark sputtering out too soon in a sacrifice not needed.” She sighs. “I watched him that day. I watched their paths almost overlap, but the spark died too soon and the Codfather cried at his feet. Far too late to do anything but mourn.”

“Oh.” His words become lost in the silence around them.

“But I have spoken too long, mused too much on the regrets of my past. I have summoned you here, my child, with a task I wished I would never have to burden another with.” Her eyes glimmer with sadness, countless stars pooling in their depths until he can't help but believe her sincerity. “I ask you to go forth and wipe the Corruption from this world. It is not a task to take lightly, nor one to be completed easily.”

“How?” He asks. His knees have gone numb, the tingling of pins and needles slowly migrating down the rest of his legs. “How can I carry such a burden?” He feels like crying again, feels like his shoulders are weighed down with something far heavier than he can comprehend.

“Seek the forgotten heart,” she says, “Seek it in the darkest depths, and remember to bring your brightest light. Your light shall test you, as will the past, and the flower has thorns that you will not spot. Trust in them, for the flower shall aid you, and the past will guide you. Remember,” her face is going hazy, and his legs have gone almost completely numb, “You are not alone. You do not carry the ice of Aeor with you any longer, I have spared you that burden. Love those around you, or they can slip away far too quickly for you to truly cherish.”

Her face fades, the last of her advice echoing in his ears as he sinks back into a more blissful darkness.

“Hold your heart close, for there is no greater weapon, my dear child.”

#juno.writes #empires smp #empires smp fic #jimmy solidarity #tangotek #team rancher #ranch duo #empiressmp #empires jimmy #empires tango #solidarity gaming #solidaritygaming #tango tek #adaptive nature fic #solidaritek

[freedomarrow]

“ Oh, there you are, Leonardo! ”  Pelleas calls out as he approaches the archer, gift parcel in hand.  “ A merry Winter Festival to you. I hope I'm not bothering you or anything, but I have a gift I wanted to give you for the day. ”

And so the wrapped box exchanges hands between the two of them. When Leonardo opens it, inside is revealed to be a collection of books.

“ I remember you said you were considering returning to your family's lands. I don't know if you've made your decision yet but I thought if you were still thinking about it, you might find some use out of these... They're tomes I've found on governing. I had to self-teach myself a lot after Izuka disappeared... ”  A veil of gloom eclipses Pelleas's face then, but he tries to speak past it nevertheless.  “ So I tried to find texts in Daein's library back then on the subject... see if the kings before me had anything they had left behind. Those were the ones I found most useful. Oh, um, excuse any notes you see in the margins though. Those might be mine. ”

And true to his word, if Leonardo thumbed through some of the pages, something resembling chicken scrawl could be found on the edges of old parchment.

“ I realized eventually to start taking my own notes elsewhere, but some of them still have my handwriting anyway... but the information in there is still good! I can promise you that. I'm, um, here to try and help you if you need. For Daein. But also for your sake too... whatever you decide, Leonardo, I'd like to be of some help if I can manage it. ”

During the days of the Dawn Brigade, opportunities to indulge in gift-giving were few and far between, and even if they did happen, said gifts were small and practical; a new shirt, a quiver of fresh arrows, an extra portion of food, the works. All across Daein, people tried their best to keep at least tiny sparks of joy alive even as they fed themselves mere scraps, and it was thoroughly bittersweet to both watch and be a part of.

But a desperate soul will find a positive twist in just about anything. He has come to understand, over time, that it served to teach him to appreciate even the smallest of things - things that, as he realized, he would be hard-pressed to so much as notice as a "proper noble". After all, the higher above the ground someone sits, the more difficult it becomes to see the details beneath, however beautiful they may be.

And he appreciates them to this day; after all, being remembered meant that someone had to put in extra effort for his sake.

So it surprises him a little when he hears Pelleas' voice calling him, and turns to see the former prince with a box in his hands meant for the archer. The initial mild confusion is steadily replaced by a light smile - he would not want the other to think him ungrateful, after all - and a quiet "thank you" as he accepts the gift. As he hears Pelleas out, he carefully unwraps it, his hand rubbing across the cover of the tome on top.

His expression widens a hint after the Sorcerer finishes talking, staying silent for a moment longer before speaking out himself.

"Thank you, Pelleas." It has taken a while, but he has finally grown to more consistently say the other's name without tripping against the honorific. "I don't mind your notes in the books at all! If anything, they'll probably come in handy..."

Looking up at him, Leonardo continues. "I haven't made the final decision yet, but... They were inviting me to attend their harvest festival recently. It ended up being, well... busy around here, so I wasn't able to go, but..." Sigh. "They've been trying to subtly let me know here and again that they want me to stay, so... I'm considering it more and more."

A huff - not long enough to qualify as a chuckle, but with amusement audible in it nonetheless - escapes him before the blond offers Pelleas a nod, his smile now much warmer than in the beginning.

"... So these will probably come in very handy. Thank you, I appreciate it a lot. I hope you have a good Winter Festival, too."

#pirrhyc #【 i have my orders ⁎ ic 】 #【 i grow fond of the faces around me ⁎ ask 】 #【 heavy rests the crown not tailored for you; a weight that crushes easily ⁎ support: pelleas 】 #((flails hopelessly)) #((thank you so much it was so nice to see Pellas in both my muses' inboxes it makes me so warm))

[masterwords]

Hotchgan 9 please: …in public.

In public it is!

Here is a little 1.9k word trip through 8x23 - Brothers Hotchner/The Replicator ending in a public kiss. <3 Thank you for sending this in! (If anyone wants to send in a kiss prompt, they are here!)

Warnings: canon-typical/casefic stuff mentioned (strauss' death, bombing, drugs/alcohol, guns...if you've seen these episodes then you know.)

**** and your sparks ****

They’ve been back and forth on the logistics of it for months. The team knows, more or less. It isn’t a secret, they aren’t sneaking around anymore...but they’ve never seen it. The live show.

Them.

What they have seen is boring old business as usual. It’s hard for them, then, to know when it all started. If they find out something that shakes the very ground they all stand on and it doesn’t look any different than it did before they knew...how long have they been in the dark?

That thought was unsettling, probably, for most people but to a team of people whose only job was to study behavior it was downright insulting on top of it. Were any of them even any good at their jobs?

Once the initial shock wore off, once the “you’re pulling our legs” of it all ran its course, they realized that what they’d really witnessed was not the big bang but one long evolutionary crawl from a single celled organism in the sea to a walking, talking, sentient being.

They sort of stopped looking so closely after that.

From the moment they found out, they haven’t had any time to do anything but work. And at work, they were the same old them they always were. There were no stolen kisses, no secret hand on the thigh moments, no emotional outbursts or airing of dirty laundry. You’d never know they lived together, they didn’t even show up in the same car every day.

The first inkling of something that ran a little deeper than co-workers came in New York, during a case involving Aaron’s brother Sean. He’d been a wreck though you’d have to know him pretty well to see it. To a casual observer he looked cool as a cucumber, pensive but it seemed to come with the territory. The nature of this kind of case. The entire idea that his worlds were colliding again, that his family was involved in his work, had him rattled to the core though and he was doing everything in his power not to recuse himself from the case. It would be a first for anyone on their team. Maybe he was older, wiser...however, he didn’t bother to give in when those logical notions kicked in. His proximity to the case would help him solve it, not get in the way.

“Would you please sit in the van with me?” Aaron asked quietly, standing perhaps a little too close to Derek to just be colleagues. “I know I should probably ask someone else, but I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have watching my brother than you.”

“Of course, man,” Derek said with that solemn nod, that I was going to insist I do it anyway look already on his face.

Aaron could tell what he was thinking. “You don’t think I should be in there.”

“I don’t, not even a little, but I’m not gonna stop you. That’s your brother, I get it. I’d be right there if it was one of my sisters...’course, my sisters aren’t dumbasses like Sean…” That last bit was said with a smirk, a quiet little ribbing to try and lighten the dour mood some. It almost worked.

It wasn’t as if Aaron was behaving in a way he wouldn’t normally, he would always have asked Derek. When it came to field work, to the real dangerous stuff, to using the big weapons and serious tactical force it had always been the two of them. So even in that sense, this made sense, but Rossi and JJ shared a glance when Derek texted and said they’d be in the van so they were going dark for a bit. That shared glance was amusement with an air of superiority.

“Think they’re gonna make out?” JJ asked in a hushed whisper to try and lighten the mood. Rossi couldn’t help laughing.

Derek did give Aaron a kiss on the temple once they were on their own, before he said to let him make the call when things went sour. Not if, when. Aaron couldn’t argue. He knew Derek would make the call and he’d do it fast. Sean might be a dumbass, but he was also one of Derek’s favorite people. They both probably should have let someone else be in charge here.

The second time in as many days that offered the team a little glimpse into their secret lives came back at the BAU, when Rossi pulled his gun on Derek. Aaron had been on the phone with the Director, a very intense, very serious phone call that Aaron briefly thought would end with him being canned. He’d already started thinking about how many boxes it would take to clear out his office. He’d let his Section Chief die on his watch, on his case, what could be worse? He could still smell her on his skin, her shampoo or perfume lightly floral and musky at the same time. And through the phone call, putting up his shields to block out the carefully venomous words of his superior, he heard a sound that froze the blood in his veins.

Derek, just a few steps away in Rossi’s office, sounded scared. His voice had ticked up an octave, his words had quickened, he was genuinely afraid and that struck fear like a dagger in Aaron’s chest. “Excuse me, sir,” he said and without actually saying goodbye, he hung up his phone and shoved it into his pocket. Possibly career suicide but it didn’t make any difference.

If Dave hadn’t been drugged he would have seen it, seen the way Aaron put his body in front of Derek, ready to take the bullet if it came down to it. He would have known it when Aaron reached out and disarmed him, still standing there in a way that shielded Derek from harm.

No one else was in the room, but the team afterward could feel the tension. Could tell how shaken they both were. The furtive glances.

And then Aaron’s helicopter crash landed and Derek thought he might actually lose his entire fucking mind at their string of shitty luck. He had to admit, Aaron did look a little adorable with his hair all mussed up, the dazed look in his eye that said he was okay and didn’t entirely remember what had happened. It didn’t take him long to figure it out, to charge ahead again like it never happened. The rest of the week was filled with aching joints and headaches, sleepless nights as he began pulling double duty (triple, perhaps) at work.

Derek didn’t see him much after the explosion. He and Jessica were juggling Jack’s school pick-ups and obligations, his sports, his homework. Aaron was...working himself to death. He didn’t leave his desk for seven hours straight one day, he’d begun timing it just to see. Tying up Strauss’ loose ends, picking up the projects she’d been in the middle of, introducing himself to her other teams, making his presence known. It was a temporary assignment...probably. They hadn’t offered him anything yet but the expectations were piled on him anyway.

So it really wasn’t any surprise that they ended up where they did at Rossi’s party after Strauss’ funeral. Showing up separately, Aaron coming directly from work while Derek had come from home. Promising Jessica that he was going to make Aaron leave his car at Rossi’s and bring him home for the first night that week to sleep in his own bed. To take a shower in his home and not in the gym at work. To eat real food. To relax, even for just a few hours.

They seated themselves on opposite sides of the table, as if that could somehow erase the electricity crackling like a storm between them. They had tried to play it cool, knowing for sure in the days that followed that stretch of bad luck (which neither of them believed in) had helped cool their jets a little. But not enough.

Maybe it was talking about Strauss, maybe not. Maybe it was apropos of nothing. It kind of always had been. They didn’t need a situation to charge them up, they lived that way, right on the brink.

“Who wants more wine?” Derek asked, raising his empty glass abruptly, waiting for the briefest lull in conversation. He was met with a sea of empty glasses raised into the air, the one exception being Aaron’s which was still more than half full. He was thinking about his brother, about the ecstasy tainted wine, about the glass of scotch that broke on the floor when Foyet drove him to the ground. He didn’t drink much anymore, and when he did it was rarely a comfortable experience. The astringent smell of alcohol set him on edge unless the circumstances were exactly right.

“I’ll help you,” Aaron offered quietly, standing to follow Derek back into the house. “You’ll need more hands.”

JJ winked at Rossi, another silent moment of inappropriate humor batted between them. More hands...where? She mouthed and Rossi chuckled and shrugged.

Halfway across the dark yard, just as they skirted the edge of the pool, Aaron reached out and hooked Derek’s hand. The sudden shock of cold fingers in his stopped Derek in his tracks and he whirled around, almost like he was shocked to find Aaron so close.

“Slow down,” Aaron said, tugging him. Closing the gap. He hadn’t been this close to Derek in almost a week and the smell of him was intoxicating. He craved more. His body responded instantly to the proximity, the scent, the hungry look in Derek’s eye. If Derek asked him to leave right now he would without a backward glance. He held a woman in his arms as she died, he stood in front of a loaded gun, he was knocked out in a helicopter crash. He sent his brother to jail. It was all weighing on him and he found he had little control of his body. Exhausted and turned on, he just stared across at the other man waiting for the words to make themselves known. He hadn’t planned this far ahead.

“What’s up?” Derek asked, a trickle of dread in his low voice. Aaron smiled and shook his head.

“Nothing,” he said quietly, leaning forward, deciding words weren’t what he was looking for. He wanted something physical. Kissing Derek was where it started, all he wanted. He draped his arms over Derek’s shoulders, hugging around his neck, shielding their faces from the team of onlookers. He had almost an inch on Derek and it came in handy in situations like this.

JJ noticed it first and cleared her throat, getting Penelope’s attention. She elbowed Reid who nudged Blake who nodded her head at Rossi. A silent game of telephone, but they all arrived at their destination in tact. Derek and Aaron were kissing right there, like they had the place to themselves.

And they all found that it didn’t seem nearly as shocking as any of them had imagined. They could see it now and it seemed suddenly to make perfect sense.

“Hey! There’s a guest room upstairs for that kind of tomfoolery!”

“We were promised more wine!”

“Yeah! WHERE’S THE WINE!”

Derek lifted one hand from where they’d been curved around Aaron’s hips and flipped off the table as a whole. Aaron smiled into the kiss and tried to hide the burn of the flush rising in his neck by shifting his arms, raising his shoulder a little. Derek thought for sure that Aaron would break away, would move a little too fast toward the kitchen to get another bottle or two of wine, but he didn’t. He just stayed planted where he was, and eventually the team lost interest and went back to their conversations.

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #bau team as family #hotchgan #criminal minds #fanfiction

[callsign-magnolia]

I Hope You Dance// Ch. 1

MATURE CONTENT (18+) MINORS DNI

A/N: This is cross posted on my Wattpad, so if this seems familiar that is why.

TW: Mental abuse, emotional abuse, slight physical abuse, death and loss.

Description: When Caila meets Rooster, sparks fly. But, she's already married, to a man who she thought loved her, and won't let her go. Rooster will fight for her, he just has to convince Caila to fight for herself.

Word Count: 7.5k

Prologue | Masterlist

I couldn't give you an exact date my marriage ended, but I could give you a time frame. I think it started during my first deployment, but I couldn't be for sure. I only got a feeling during my second deployment, the following year. Aaron was dropping me off at the port in Key West, I was telling him goodbye and his nose was buried in his phone. "Aaron." I said, waving my hand in his face and he looked up quickly. "Hm? Oh bye." He hugged me loosely before burying his nose in his phone again. 

"Caila!" I heard a squeal and turned to see Natasha sprinting for me. "Oh my god!" I hugged her tightly. "You're here! Oh my god!" I nodded. "I know! You're here too!" She hugged me again, "You being here will make this deployment so much easier!" She said before glancing to Aaron, who was still looking at his phone. "Aaron, it's Natasha." I said and he looked at her, giving her a slight wave. "Hey." We heard a commotion and that was our cue to board. I laid my hand on Aaron's arm and he looked at me. "I'll be back in eight months, okay?" He nodded and kissed me quickly before we headed onboard. 

"Whose Melissa?" I furrowed my brows at her question, that was our neighbors name. "He was texting someone named Melissa and she said 'I'll see you when you get here." It hit me, "Oh there's a girl in his study group, he's getting ready to take his bar exam." She didn't seem convinced but nodded anyway. In all honesty, I wasn't convinced either. Nat and I made it to our rooms, hers just down the hall from mine. Plus of being an officer, you get out of the bunks. The room is small but large enough. We were given an hour to settle our things before we headed to a briefing, so I put my stuff away and made sure my helmet was accessible. 

"So they gave you a call sign?" I heard Phoenix say as she leaned on my door frame. "Magnolia." I said and she smiled at me. "Well Magnolia, I'm Phoenix." I laughed a little before shaking her outstretched hand. "That is so fitting for you." I said setting my phone down on the small desk in my room for paper work. "Ready for this briefing?" I nodded and joined her to walk to the ready room. Along the way I was almost run over by another officer. Looking up I was caught off guard by the man in front of me, his light brown sandy colored hair was wavy. His brown eyes were vibrant and warm, catching me off guard. He was tall, around six foot maybe. I noticed a few scars on his face as well as the mustache he was sporting which made him look so good. 

Good god, this man was fine.

"My apologies Lieutenant..." Phoenix poked my back and I snapped back to reality. "Motley. Lieutenant Motley, and you are?" It took him a second before responding, "Lieutenant Bradshaw." Oh my god his voice was husky and I wanted to melt into a puddle into the floor. "Hi, Rooster." Phoenix said from behind me and he perked up. "Phoenix!" He cheered before quickly hugging the girl before anyone saw. "You two know each other?" I asked as rooster fell in step behind us. "My first deployment was with Rooster, he definitely made learning the ropes easier." I nodded. "Who was it that you said you were with Caila?" 

"Step it up ladies, this isn't a leisurely stroll!" I heard from behind us. "Ugh! Son of a bitch! He's here too?" I said turning to find Hangman quickly walking by. "Hangman." Rooster said in a professional tone. "Rooster, here to hold us back again?" I rolled my eyes and kept walking. "Get to steppin' Hangman, before you hold us back." He moved past me before walking backwards to look at me. "Magnolia, you look... good." His eyes raked over my body and I rolled my eyes. "Heard those songs of yours, I didn't know you had a set of pipes like that." Captain Johnson was coming down the hall, his head down in his papers so I decided to let Hangman dig his own grave. "Makes a man wonder what notes you'd sing in my bunk." 

Captain Johnson stopped just as Jake bumped into him and we all saluted, Jake's being delayed. "Lieutenant Seresin, after this briefing I want you in my office as it seems we need to go over conduct." The Captain looked us over before glancing back to Hangman. "At ease." He walked into the ready room, us behind him and Hangman, trying to hold in our laughter. 

~~~

The next morning Phoenix and I had time for a workout so we rushed down to one of the gyms before breakfast. Getting in I noticed there were only two others in here, this place would be packed later so I'm glad we came now. "I did legs yesterday before we boarded." Phoenix said and I nodded. "Well I did my core, so I'm doing legs." She groaned, realizing I was not doing a core workout with her. I chuckled as we both started on the treadmill for a warm up, popping in a headphone as we did. 

Towards the end of my workout I was finishing with leg presses, the weight causing a burning in my thighs and glutes that I loved. My legs were probably my favorite part about myself now that I've lost my weight, something about having such power in my body was empowering. No matter how much weight I lost I'd never be little, I had wide hips and a big bust two things that will never go away. But I noticed my body catches a lot of attention, something Aaron isn't happy about but he'll have to get over. 

I was on my last few reps when I noticed I was being stared at. "Take a picture Rooster, I'm not gonna sit here forever." He fumbled his phone out of his pocket and quickly snapped pictures from many angles making me laugh and stop short on my reps. "Okay! Let me finish my reps before I get frustrated." He chuckled but let me finish my last four reps. I stood up and almost tripped on the machine before Rooster caught me. "Sorry." He shook his head and helped me stand straight. "No worries, I get a little wobbly after legs too." I smiled at him and grabbed my towel and water bottle. "Well I'm gonna hit the shower before breakfast, better hurry if you want food Rooster." I said and he nodded. Phoenix met me at the door as we walked out. 

"Hot damn." I heard lowly behind me. "It seems you've caught Lieutenant Bradshaw's eye, Lieutenant Motley." She teased and I rolled my eyes. "I have not, besides I'm engaged." She chuckled. "Have you told him that, yet?" She asked, making me stop as she walked into the showers. I hadn't, but it's not like I'm going to let him make a move or anything. "Phoenix! It doesn't matter!" I yelled rushing in after the sweaty girl. 

~~~

The next time I actually spoke to Rooster was about a month later, we didn't see too much of each other except in passing, a ship is only so big. We had been pulled into a pre-flight briefing and we had an hour to kill before we actually had to load into our planes. "So, Magnolia. Where are you from?" I shrugged. "Well I was born in Atlanta, moved around a lot till high school but home is in Buckhead, Georgia just above Atlanta." He nodded, folding his arms over his chest. "Why'd you move a lot?" I smirked. "Dad is a Navy Admiral and mom is a musician." He nodded. 

"Would I know her?" I chuckled. "If the name Regina Motley rings a bell, then yeah." He leaned forward in his seat, gasping. "No way! Your mother is Regina Motley!" He all but yelled. "Yes, she is." He ran his hands over his face. "My mom was a huge fan of hers, I grew up on her music." I smiled at the words. "I love hearing things like that, it makes me feel like all the years mom spent on the road with us was worth it." He smiled. "My dad got her tickets for her. They got to meet her and everything. Mom was so excited she had to sit down because she thought she was going to pass out." I smiled and clicked my pen. "What's her name? You'd be surprised who mom remembers." He smiled. "Carol Bradshaw, dad's name was Nick Bradshaw." I wrote it down and smiled at him. 

"You're mom sounds like a good time." I said and he chuckled. "She was, I'd give anything to have her back." I gave him a sad smile and leaned forward, resting my hand over his. "I'm sure she'd be proud of you, Rooster." He chuckled. "I think so too, even though I'm doing the one thing she didn't want me doing, the same thing dad did." I smirked at him. "My mom feels the same way, proud and terrified that I'm doing what dad did." He nodded. 

"So how old are you?" I smiled at him, "Twenty-four, I'll be twenty-five this coming march you?" His eyes widened. "Damn I feel old, uh I just turned thirty-one this past June." I chuckled. "Well if it makes you feel any better, you definitely don't look thirty. I thought you were like twenty-seven." He squinted at me. "Is this part of your southern charm I keep hearing about?" I gave him a confused look. "Whose talking about me?" He held his hands up, "I'm not telling." I rolled my eyes. "I'll have a talk with Natasha later." 

"As long as she knows I didn't tell then I'm good with that." I chuckled. "You're scared of little five foot seven Natasha?" He leaned back in his chair. "I'm trying to decide if I should be scared of five foot six you!" I chuckled. "How did you know how tall I am?" He shrugged. "Lucky guess." I rolled my eyes. "So what's the story with you and Hangman?" I groaned. "There is no story, he asked me out and I shot him down." He nodded. "Why?" I bit my lip, not really wanting to tell him. "He's not my type... and I'm engaged." Rooster's face fell. "Oh, I didn't know you were engaged. Never saw a ring." I bit my lip and nodded. "I can't wear it with the uniform, it's too flashy." I pulled out my phone and found a picture of it to show him. 

"Goddamn, that's a big ring." I nodded. "He didn't like that I wanted to wear a silicone band while I was deployed so I went without anything." He nodded as the door opened and we sat up. "Last minute change of plans, Lieutenant Seresin will be joining you." I internally groaned when I saw Hangman's smirk. "Has he been briefed?" The captain nodded. "He has and we moved up your time, you have twenty minutes to do your preflight inspection and get in the air. Lieutenant Motley, you're leader for this flight." My eyes widened, it was only my second deployment and Hangman and Rooster had more experience than me. 

"Woah, with all due respect sir, I don't feel comfortable following her lead." I was about to chew him out but the Captain beat me to it. "Then I suggest you get comfortable with it, Lieutenant. After what I heard your first day on the ship I think you may need to follow her and get yourself in check. Motley is your leader, you can listen or I ground you. Am I clear?" Hangman nodded. "Yes, sir." The Captain left and Hangman stormed out to the flight deck. "Let's go, don't wanna be behind." I said moving by Rooster to go down to where our jets were stored. 

After we did our checks and got the jets up to the runway, we loaded in. I saw Phoenix on one of the lifted decks above the runway watching. I rolled up for take off, getting the all clear from my ground crew. "Magnolia, ready for take off." I announced and a second later I got my all clear. "Magnolia, you are clear for take off." Immediately I punched it, I was forced back into my seat until felt the bump and lifted off the runway. "Rooster, ready for take off." I heard Roosters voice come through the comms. "Rooster, you are clear for take off." Just after him Hangman took off and they joined me in the air. "Welcome to the show boys, I trust you've looked at your itinerary for the evening?" I heard a chuckled from Rooster. "Yes ma'am." I smirked. "Uh, I'm not a fan of tonight's entertainment." Hangman remarked. "My apologies Hangman, but all deposits are non-refundable. I guess you'll just have to wait it out." 

After twenty minutes of being in the air I got a call from the tower. "Lieutenant Motley, bandit coming up behind you." Her voice was calm and I turned, sure enough seeing a foreign jet behind me. "Thank you control." I said. "You boys seeing this?" I asked trying not to let my panic seep into my voice. We were sent out because foreign aircrafts were spotted in American airspace, our job was to just wig them out and send them home but buddy behind me seems to wanna flip the tables. "Sure am Magnolia, Hangman?" Rooster asked and I groaned. "Leave it to him to ditch." 

Rooster hung back to get behind him when suddenly he broke left. "Rooster?" I asked. "We got a second one, he's got a lock on me." I heard guns go off. "Rooster?" Suddenly I heard the beeping that sent my heart through the floor. "Get out of there!" Rooster's voice came through and I broke right. "Hangman, quit hiding and get down here!" I demanded as I narrowly avoided getting hit. "You think they're sticking to guns to freak us out?" Rooster asked and I nodded. "I'll change their minds." I said pulling back to bring me behind the jet that's been on my ass and got a lock on him.

As soon as I did he bailed, "Bandit one is gone, Rooster?" I saw another fly past me and let out a breath I was holding. "Bandit two is as well. Good work Magnolia." I nodded. "Couldn't have done it without your help, Rooster." Suddenly Hangman appeared. "What'd I miss?" I didn't even reply. "Bring it in guys." I said and we lined up to land, the boys landing before me. Suddenly my alarm went off, telling me someone had a lock on me and before I could react my jet jolted. I looked back seeing the jet flying away and I immediately checked my systems. My right engine was out and the left was starting to fail. "Magnolia?!" Roosters panicked voice came through. I had to stick this landing or else I was gonna crash into the back of the ship. I brought down my landing gear, this was gonna be a rocky landing. My hook quickly caught the wire and pulled me to a stop. "I'm good." I said as I managed to relax in my seat. 

They got my plane locked down and I exited when the canopy lifted. "ARE YOU ALRIGHT?!" Rooster's voice yelled out as he sprinted over. "I'm fine!" I yelled back over the noise. "Let's get you inside!" I nodded and he threw his arm around my shoulder, escorting me inside. As we got in he looked to me, "You sure you're okay?" He asked, turning my head side to side. "Rooster, I'm fine." I said grabbing his hands to stop him. "A little shook up, but I'll be okay. Now we have to debrief, let's go." I said letting go of his hands as my face turned red and headed back to the ready room, where Hangman was already getting an ear full. "Let's get this over with." I said as Rooster pulled the door open for me and we walked in. 

Hangman was the only one who got read the riot act, Rooster and I were commended for our good work. "That was your first time being engaged in combat Lieutenant?" Captain Johnson asked and I nodded. "Very well, nice work Motley. You may prove to be just as good a pilot as your father." I smiled at him. "Thank you sir, that means a lot." He nodded before dismissing us. As the Captain walked out, Rooster grabbed Hangman's arm, turning him around. "What the hell is wrong with you man? She could've died out there!" I set my helmet on the table, walking over to them. "Not my fault if she couldn't handle herself." Hangman sneered, shaking Roosters hand off him. "Handle herself? We were sent out together so one of us wasn't alone! What the hell is wrong with you? What if she died? Huh? What would you tell her family?" I grabbed Roosters arm who didn't seem to acknowledge my presence. "She should've been better at her job." Hangman sneered and Rooster's fist reared back. 

I jumped between them and shoved. "Sit. down. NOW!" I yelled and immediately they put themselves in their seats. "We're in the Navy goddammit! Act like it!" Rooster hung his head and Hangman smirked. "Taking orders from her, huh?" I crouched down so I was in Hangman's face. "Last I checked you sat down too, Seresin." He stared at me and I stared back. I don't know how long I held eye contact until he finally looked away. "Grow the hell up, and act like a decent fucking human. If you can't seem to do that then we are going to have some serious problems that I don't think you want to deal with." After another moment of not looking at me I stood straight and he pushed himself out of the chair before storming out the door.  

"Thank you, Rooster." He stood up, coming closer. "No need to thank me. You would've done the same for me." I nodded and grabbed my helmet as I felt all my emotions catching up with me. "Now if you'll excuse me." I said rushing from the ready room back to my quarters. I heard him say my name but I couldn't turn around, not when the tears started. I shut my door and leaned my back against it. I slid to the floor and rested my helmet beside me, I was keeping my sobs quiet, not wanting anyone to know I was sobbing in my floor. 

I could've died up there. I knew what I signed up for, I know the risks but it doesn't make it any easier to handle. I would have left my parents, my brother, Aaron. Oh god, Aaron. I quickly rushed to the laptop on my desk, opening the email icon. I started typing up an email, pouring my heart out in it. How much I loved and missed him, how I was excited to call him when we docked somewhere and I hoped he was doing okay. I sent it before reading it again, and yet it didn't sit right. I loved Aaron, but seeing it poured out in an email almost felt wrong, like I shouldn't be say it this way. It was probably because I would've rather spilled this in a phone call or facetime since I definitely couldn't do it in person. I guess that just how everyone on this ship feels about their significant others.

~~~

The next time Rooster caught me was the next day. Phoenix and I were walking back from dinner when he stopped us. "Hey, Magnolia. Can I talk to you for a minute?" I nodded and followed him out onto the deck. I wasn't sure what he wanted to talk about but I had a feeling it had to do with our flight yesterday. I watched as he leaned against the railing, his khaki shirt stretching over his biceps catching my full attention. "Are you okay?" He asked as he turned to look at me and I nodded, dragging my eyes away from his muscular arms. "Yeah, why?" I asked as I stood next to him. My five foot six frame coming just under his nose, making me realize how much taller than me he actually was. "I heard you last night, in your room." I hung my head and sighed. 

"My emotions just hit me all at once Rooster, this is only my second deployment. It was my first time being engaged in combat in the air, by someone who wasn't training with me." He nodded. "I know you and Phoenix are close, but you can always talk to me too Magnolia." I nodded. "And I appreciate that Rooster." We just stood there in complete silence, watching the water roll by, it was a peace I don't think I've ever truly felt. A few people walked by behind us, causing Rooster and I to shift, causing our arms to brush up against each other. It felt like lightning shot up my arm, making my hairs stand on end. My breath caught in my throat at the sensation and I looked up to find Rooster already staring at me. "You tell him?" He asked and I furrowed my brows. 

"Tell who?" I saw one corner of his lips pull up just slightly. "Your fiancé." I shook my head. "I emailed him, but I didn't tell him what happened." He nodded. "Don't want him to worry, right?" I bit my lip, in reality I don't even know if he'd care. He's been so distant these past six months, until I got these orders. He became the doting boyfriend I had in high school for two weeks and then he became distant again when he dropped me off. "Yeah, don't wanna worry him." Rooster leaned his side against the railing. "You don't seem so sure."

I leaned my head on the railing, thinking about everything. His behavior, his distance and then how loving he was before my deployment and then the text Phoenix saw. I choked on my own breath as the realization struck me. "Oh god, I'm gonna be sick." Roosters hand rested on my back, making me feel like my nerves were set on fire. "Caila?" I turned to see Phoenix rushing over as tears clouded my eyes. "That text you saw on his phone. Was there a photo with the name?" She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Uh, she was blonde and had on these ridiculously huge sunglasses." She said before grabbing my arm. "I thought you said he was studying for his bar exam?" She asked and I shoved off the railing. "Yeah, that's what I thought too." I stormed away from them, remembering the feeling I had when I came home from training one weekend to find him at Melissa's house.

"Babe?" I asked as I walked through Melissa's front door. Aaron's car was in her driveway for some ungodly reason, we lived right next door. "Oh! Caila!" I heard Melissa's voice say from her kitchen. "Didn't expect you home so soon! You want something to drink?" I shook my head seeing Aaron with his head under her sink and his shirt off. That's when I realized Melissa was in nothing but a long Rolling Stones shirt, one that looked exactly like one Aaron has. "No thank you Melissa, I just came to retrieve my fiancé." She giggled. "Oh I'm sorry, I stole him to look at my sink. It's been leaking for ages." I nodded as Aaron stood up. "About time you got home, been waiting forever." I furrowed my brows. "I'm home a day early." 

"Still been waiting forever." He turned to Melissa. "All fixed, you're good to go." She smiled at him and giggled. "Thank you Aaron, I'll have to think of a way to repay you." I pursed my lips at her obvious flirting. "You could by giving my fiancé here some fashion tips, same hair color since I met her." I looked at my ends, frowning. "I think you'd look great as a blonde Caila." She said and I nodded. "Ready to go?" I asked and he nodded, marching out of the house and to his car. I walked across the yard as he pulled his Supra into our driveway. I walked in with Aaron behind me, to see the house trashed. "What on god's green earth happened here?! This house was spotless when I left!" He shrugged. "I haven't had time to clean." My eyes widened in disbelief.

"Time to clean?! It looks like you haven't even left! Have you done anything in the three days I've been gone?!" There were beer bottles scattered around, a half full pizza box on the coffee table, dirty clothes everywhere. "I washed the plate I used the other day." My anger blew. "So I leave to put in sixteen hour days to train, and you're here partying it up?! Did you do anything for school? We're paying a hell of a lot of money for law school! The grants don't cover everything!" He threw his hands up. "WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME CAILA?! YOU EXPECT TOO MUCH FROM ME!" 

"EXPECT TOO MUCH?! I WANT YOU TO PUT YOUR TRASH IN THE TRASH CAN AND YOUR DIRTY CLOTHES IN THE BASKET! I WANT A PARTNER! NOT SOMEONE THAT I HAVE TO RAISE LIKE A CHILD!" He stared at me for a moment before slamming his hands on the counter. "You're cheating on me! Aren't you?!" I threw my hands up. "Oh here we go! This again! I have never cheated on you in my life Aaron but for some reason you seem to think I do!" He scoffed. "What else should I think you're doing while you spend days and months away from me?" I was dumbfounded. "I don't know, my job!" I put my hands up, I just got home. "I can't deal with this right now, I need to shower and unpack." I grabbed my duffel by the door and stormed to our room. "I expect this house clean by the time I get out of the shower!" I said before slamming the door. I set my duffel bag down before spotting something in the corner of the room. I picked up Aaron's button down, looking at the collar and seeing a red mark on it and my heart sank. I don't wear lipstick in this shade of red.

~~~

"What just happened?" Rooster asked Phoenix and she sighed. "When we boarded I saw Caila before she walked away from Aaron, her fiancé, and I got a look at his phone. He was texting some chick named Melissa and Caila thought it was some girl from his study group since he's in law school and studying for the bar exam." Phoenix explained as she watched her friend walk away from them. "I think she just realized that that is not the case." Rooster's anger flared. Caila was an amazing pilot, she's so good for someone who doesn't have as much experience as others on board. But she's also kind, and caring. Something he picked up on immediately, but she also has a fiery attitude that makes his heart soar. He was pretty broken up when she said she had a fiancé, but now, now he was angry, so angry that someone would do this to her.

"Think she'd talk to me?" Phoenix shrugged. "I don't see the harm in trying. She's pretty open." They started heading to her quarters where Phoenix knew she'd be. "He broke up with her repeatedly when we were in the academy together, she was heartbroken every time. I wish she'd break it off, but I know she won't." Phoenix rambled as they approached her door. Rooster knocked and all they heard behind it were quiet sobs that broke Roosters heart. Suddenly the door flew open and Phoenix rushed in, Rooster seemed confused until her and Caila both grabbed his khaki shirt and yanked him in the small room and shut the door. 

"Is this the email your sending?" Phoenix asked as Caila closed the laptop. "No, I'm gonna wait till we're docked and I'm gonna call him. I am going to rake him over the coals. I'm over the bullshit. Is it bad that I literally want to break him down until he's nothing and he can't function?" Phoenix shook her head. "He has you pissed." Rooster said and Caila scoffed. "I am fit to be tied!" She said before clenching her hands in her hair. "Hey." Rooster said grabbing her hands so she didn't rip her hair out of her bun. "You're going to be okay. You're strong enough to handle this, besides if I was him I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of this." Phoenix stood quickly. "I just remembered that I have some paperwork, I'll be back before lights out." She said winking and rushing from the room and closing the door. 

"All I'm saying is, he's an idiot if he's treating you like this and he thinks he can get away with it." Rooster said still holding her hands. Her heart was racing in her chest and little did she know, so was his. "Thank you, Rooster. I needed to hear that." He smiled down at her. "Like I said you can always talk to me." She nodded before slowly taking her hands from his. "Well probably should get you out of here before people start spreading rumors." He nodded as she turned for the door, and stopping. She quickly turned back around, hugging Rooster around his middle as his arms went around her shoulders. She realized how amazing he smelled, her face buried in his chest. Rooster was caught off guard by her actions but pulled her closer nonetheless, he caught a whiff of her shampoo in her hair. It smelled like coconut and he had to stop himself from inhaling deeply. "Seriously, thank you Rooster. You have no idea how much it means to me." He nodded as she turned back and opened the door. "You're welcome, I'll see you later Mags." He said before walking away and she shut the door. Her heart skipping a beat at the name.

~~~

The next few months Rooster and I grew close and just like Phoenix, he became my best friend. He was someone I wanted to be around all the time, he made me feel joy. He didn't talk to me for a few days when I told him I wasn't going to end things with Aaron. The one email I got from him made me miss him so much and reminded me why I wanted to marry him. I was in my head about him cheating on me, he would never do that. Sure there are better women out there, ones who are home every night. But he proposed to me, he wants me, not someone else. 

One day we were docked in Australia and were allowed to wear civilian clothing which I was excited for. It was nine a.m. when I caught up with Phoenix. "I don't think I've ever really seen you with your hair down and that dress, oh my god, where have you been hiding those curves?" She asked as I spun around for her, my strappy royal blue sundress flowing around me, the white flowers on it standing out against my tan skin. "Okay but yellow is your color." I told her as I saw her pale yellow dress. She posed quickly as we disembarked, "There's Rooster." She said before waving at him, he was standing next to Hangman when he saw us. 

He turned and waved and I was grateful to whatever deity was out there I had on my Oakley sunglasses as my eyes widened. He had on blue jeans that sat on his thighs just right and a white tank top with a Hawaiian shirt over it, aviator glasses resting on his face. I gripped Phoenix's arm, "Great balls of fire, he looks so damn good!" I said not able to resist how heavenly he looked.

"You see the way he's looking at you?" Phoenix asked and I could only nod seeing Rooster and Hangman say something to each other, little did I know it was about me. "My God, she's hot." Hangman said in realization. Rooster could only stare at Caila as she walked over. Her thighs shaking slightly with every step, her breasts peeking out of the 'v' of her dress. It was enough to make him sweat. "She's gorgeous."

"Ready guys? I'm ready for lunch not from a bag and a beer!" I said and they nodded. The crowd around us was bustling, many people trying to get somewhere before they had to get back on board. As we walked many people walked between us, separating us and I lost sight of my friends a few times. Suddenly a hand grabbed mine and I almost pulled away till I saw it was Rooster.

He slid my arm through his elbow, keeping a hold of me. "I can't keep worrying about you in this crowd." I scoffed. "I'm a naval aviator Rooster, I can handle myself." He nodded. "You can, but you shouldn't have to." I smirked up at him. "Rooster, are you being, dare I say, a gentleman?" He chuckled as we followed Phoenix and Hangman through Sydney. "I'll be whatever you want me to be."

My heart skipped a beat, his words telling me that he yearned for more. But I was engaged and couldn't allow us to be more than friends even though at the time, my heart wanted more as well. I fanned my face in mock surprise, "Well I do declare! Bradley Bradshaw you have a way with women." He smiled down at me. "I could literally listen to you talk all day with that thick southern accent."

"She already talks too much Bradshaw, don't encourage it." Hangman said, making my face turn a deep shade of red. Aaron always said I talked too much, especially in high school, I never knew when to shut up and still don't sometimes. I've worked on it throughout the years and Aaron says I've gotten a little better, but not much.

We walked down the street as I observed everything around us, Hangman and Phoenix arguing about something. "Hey." I looked up to Rooster whose face held concern behind his glasses, "You okay?" I nodded. "I'm fine, just enjoying the piece and quiet." I said, it was quieter out here than on the ship. But as I turned around, I missed the worried look on Bradley's face.

~~~

"I haven't been this excited for a burger in so long." I said as I all but bounced in my seat. I was sitting next to Natasha, who was laughing at me. Rooster across from her and Hangman across from me. Hangman was looking around, admiring some of the women that walked by. "Why are you even with us Hangman? You don't like us." I said and he chuckled. "Because, you two catch men's attention, leaving these other women upset that these guys aren't giving them any attention. So then I swoop in and save the day." He said leaning back in his seat, folding his arms behind his head and flexing. "That's actually pretty smart Hangman. Want some help?" He laughed. 

"I don't need help." I smirked and sipped my beer. "Fine then, I won't alert you to the tall, leggy blonde behind you. The guy she's with has been staring at me and ignoring her since we got here, and you seem to be catching her attention." He squinted at me, almost seeing if I was lying. "Don't believe me, go to the bar and look at the table to the right, next to the patio door." He stared at me for a moment before chugging his beer and slowly getting up and walking to the bar. "Why are you helping him?" I shrugged. "Gets him outta our hair and besides, I help him out, maybe he won't be as insufferable." 

"I think i've fallen in love with your brain." Bradley said dreamily, making me chuckle. "Oh stop, I'll help you find a girl too." He rolled his eyes. "Not interested." I raised a brow. "Why not?" He shrugged. "I'm into this girl, but she has somebody already." There's no way he's talking about me, why would he? I'm average at best. I'm not that pretty, while I'm fit i'm not little, I never will be, and I'm not that interesting. I can't even keep my own fiancé engaged in a conversation. But still, I catch myself wishing he was talking about me. "I guess if brains were leather, she wouldn't have enough to saddle a June bug." I said before thinking and I caught them staring at me. "Basically she doesn't have enough brains to realize how great of a guy you are, Rooster."

Man I hope he was talking about someone else, or else I just called myself dumb. Rooster and Phoenix laughed at me. "You just have all kinds of sayings, don't you?" Rooster asked and I nodded. "It comes standard with every southerner, our arsenal is always full." He laughed and I looked over to see Hangman talking with the blonde. I glanced over and made eye contact with the guy and he got up making his way over. "Oh god." Suddenly our waitress came over. "Here you go guys, enjoy." We thanked her and I immediately lifted my burger, biting a chunk out of it. "Damn, that's so good." 

Suddenly the guy sat down in Hangman's seat across from me. "I like a girl who can eat." I rolled my eyes and took another huge bite in a very un-lady like fashion. "Good thing all women eat." Phoenix laughed and Rooster spat his drink out. "You good, man?" The guy asked slapping his back. "I'm fine." He said and the guy looked back to me. "Chris." He held his hand out and I shook it. "Caila." Phoenix waved. "Natasha." Chris looked to Rooster who had an annoyed look on his face. "Bradley." He nodded. "So what brings a group of American's to 'The great down under'?" He joked with a poor American accent. "We're in the Navy, docked here for a few days to refuel on food and fuel." Bradley said eating one of his fries. 

He nodded. "So you're a sailor?" Chris asked me and I nodded my head. "So what? You cook for the sailors or something?" If I could've rolled my eyes harder I would've. "No, I'm a Naval Aviator." Suddenly he laughed loudly. "No, you're not." He said as if it was a fact. "Man, don't." Rooster said and Chris shrugged him off. "No seriously, women can't physically fly a plane." Phoenix and I shared a look as Hangman came back. "Alright, you're time is over. Get up, and go." He scoffed. "I thought we were having fun." He said and smiled at me. "I was actually coming over to ask you out." 

"You insulted me, not interested. I'm engaged anyway." I said without looking at him. Hangman stood next to him and glared. "You're in my seat." Chris looked up at him. "You stole my date, I think it's a fair trade." Hangman scoffed. "You lost your date by giving this one too much attention." He said pointing to me. I looked up and saw him staring at me, it made me uncomfortable so I looked back to my food. "Eh, she's a bitch anyway." He said standing and suddenly Bradley was out of his seat. "What did you say?" Chris was definitely shorter than Rooster and I saw the way his face shifted, it scared him. 

"Woah man, I didn't-" I moved between them. "Back up." I said gently placing my hand on Rooster's toned chest, giving him an opportunity. He only stepped closer, squishing me between them. "Lieutenant." I used his rank to catch his attention, and it worked. He glanced down at me and back to Chris before forcefully sitting in his chair. "I think you should leave." I said to Chris who scoffed. He stared at me for another minute, "You're too ugly for me anyway." He said before walking out the door. Rooster went to stand when Jake caught his shoulder, shoving him back into his seat. 

You're too ugly for me.

It's been six years since I last heard that, and it shouldn't have bothered me, but it did. But then I remembered the first words Aaron said to me. "Hey, beautiful." The corner of my lips tugged upwards at the memory, I turned and snatched my phone off the table before walking out to the patio. I immediately dialed Aaron's number, it rang so many times and I thought it would go to voicemail like usual until it clicked. "Hey baby." I smiled at his voice, but he was panting hard. "Hey, you okay?" I heard rustling on the other end, he must have been getting off the bed. 

"Yeah, just got back from a run." I furrowed my brows. He doesn't usually run this time of year, it's September so it's still blistering hot. "Must have cooled down some then, huh?" I heard him sigh. "Nope." I pursed my lips. "I miss you." "Mhm." I rolled my eyes. Suddenly the door behind me opened and I felt a hand on the small of my back, I turned to see Rooster and before I could do any thing he opened his mouth. "Hey, you okay?" I pursed my lips and it's like everything around me went still. "Who is that?" I sighed. "Just another pilot that came out with Phoenix and I." I said staring at Rooster, and he held my gaze. 

"Why the hell are you out with other guys?" I just hung my head. "Because I work with him, it's gonna happen." "Are you cheating on me?" I wanted to slam my head into the concrete. "No, dammit!" Rooster jumped slightly at my tone. I turned around, not wanting him to see the tears welling in my eyes. "Why is that always your first assumption, huh?" "Maybe it's my first assumption because I never know what's going on when you're gone." I bit my lip. "I am not having the same damn argument, that we have every time I'm gone more than a day. I have service for three days, don't call me until you find that common sense you seem to have left next door." I snapped. "YOU LITTLE-" I hung up, tears streaming down my face. 

That's when I became painfully aware of Rooster's hand still on my back. "You okay?" I sighed. "Remember what I said." I was rolling my phone around in my hands. "It's the same argument every time I'm gone, and I'm so tired of the fighting." I said cleaning off my face and taking a deep breath. Rooster wrapped his arm around me, resting his large hand on my hip, his fingers rubbing in little circles. I should've told him to back off, but I just couldn't bring myself to. "He always throws these accusations around, and I just can't stand it. I don't know why he thinks that, where he got the idea? I just don't know what to do anymore." His fingers continued to rub patterns in my hip and I just sighed, resting my head on his shoulder. "What should I do, Rooster?" I asked. I expected him to tell me what everyone else tells me, 'Leave him.'

"I'm not gonna tell you what to do, but can I give you a reason why?" I looked up at him, waiting on his next words. "He's deflecting, come on Caila. You already figured out he's cheating so to keep you off his trail, he's accusing you." I sighed. "First off I had a hunch, no real evidence." It would make sense, I already saw him next door. "But it would make sense." He nodded. "I can tell you love him Caila, but if I'm being honest. He doesn't love you." I sighed. "He does, it just, everyone shows love differently I guess. My parents have always been so affectionate and his parents were always, less so. The most love his parents showed him was a squeeze on the shoulder and a pat on the cheek." I could feel Rooster's eyes burning into the side of my face. "And his way of saying 'I love you', is accusing you of cheating and yelling at you?" I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth. "We should get back, our food will be cold." I said walking back inside and leaving him out on the patio.

#rooster top gun #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #pete maverick mitchell #top gun maverick #phoenix #natasha trace #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #hangman #i hope you dance

[ravenwolfie97]

alright, first things first, i gotta introduce you to my three brand new rescue teams!

Red Team Gooseberry: Duck the Psyduck & Chikorita (no name) Blue Team Fireflower: Leif the Bulbasaur & Cinder the Cyndaquil DX Team Epoch Spark: Tori the Torchic & Sparky the Pikachu

all of the teams ended up having some kind of interesting thing to them for Gooseberry, i don't think i've ever played as a Psyduck before and i neglected to give Chikorita a nickname for Fireflower, i chose Cyndaquil over Torchic as my partner here because i love both Bulbasaur and Cyndaquil a lot as starters and thought it would be nice to have my two faves together and for Epoch Spark, funny enough, from the quiz I actually got Psyduck again, but since this is a newer PMD game I had the option to freely choose as well. and after much deliberation, i decided on Torchic and thought it would be kind of funny to have my partner be a Pikachu - i purposefully chose her species, gender, and name because my very first PMD team had the protagonist as a girl Pikachu. and choosing Torchic was not just a gut decision, but also to 1. round out the protagonists' types and 2. to reference the human-turned-pokemon in the PMD manga Ginji's Rescue Team which i love and cherish dearly

anyway, i started by going through the first dungeon of the game and getting our rescue team formed, and here are some of the things i noticed between the old and the new:

first, i should mention the quiz, or more specifically the pokemon selection screens. i do find it very funny that all the pokemon are just jimmying around wildly, but it also was. just a lot of sensory input. i will give it credit where it's due - it is a lot more interesting than just selecting from a list! but i do feel like Gates and Super had it better with a literal rotating cast rather than a chaotic cloud of bustling lil guys

what i thought was interesting out the gate was the fact that barely any of the text in-game is altered. it's the exact same dialogue for most of the time, with the exception of a few additional scenes not present in the old games, like a partially verbalized tutorial and when you put on the scarves as a uniform for the rescue team - which, by the way, was super cute

speaking of text, i don't know what exactly my reasoning is for being against it, but i find the little speech bubbles in dungeons to be really annoying. it's a fun idea conceptually to have more of an inner monologue as you roam around and fight and stuff, but having something to say every time you fight or get attacked is just… too much. i didn't see an option to turn them off but i kind of hope there is one and i just didn't see it

there is a pretty steep mechanical difference between the two that is very evident when playing them side-by-side. DX is mechanically very similar to Super, and given that i haven't touched Super in a few years it took me a while to remember that this wasn't completely novel and in fact something i had to get used to before. and also while i knew the movesets got more beefy and diverse as time went on in the franchise, i forgot just how robust the movesets you get out the gate are nowadays. back in the day, Pikachu knew exactly what it would in the main series games at Lv. 5: Thunder Shock, Growl, and Tail Whip. but now, in DX, my Pikachu knows Fake Out, Electro Ball, Grass Knot, and Iron Tail! like that's insanity!! and you can't even use a basic A-button attack anymore, but that's one of the things you're immediately taught in Blue/Red! it's gonna be a weird thing to juggle back and forth, i think

i noticed there was a "Random" button when making the rescue team name, and i absolutely love it. i only went through a handful of choices but they were all really good and fun and some in particular were very silly. it was very charming i will say, though - the default was "Efficiency" and it was so incredibly close to my first team's name "Electricy" (bc Electricity was too long to fit) and it really threw me hkjjk

after listening to all three iterations of that handful of sound tracks at the beginning, especially for Tiny Woods, i still feel like DX missed the mark somewhat. i will say that the version heard in Red was closer, but it's still very well mixed in Blue. DX just has issues with the relationships between timbres and between instruments' dynamics, as i've heard in a couple of its other OST remakes. it's not as offensive in person, but it's still a bit too over the top

one of the reasons i hesitated so much on getting DX was because of the aesthetics. it's radically different from any previous PMD game, and evokes kind of a storybook feeling. playing it for myself now, as far as i've gotten, i'm not the most into it, but i do appreciate it. i think my main issue is that it feels kind of unpolished and also quite cramped. the 3d renditions of 2d spaces just feels very small, and the 3d games before this didn't have that issue at all, so i feel like it's either to do with the dev team being different than previous installations, or more than likely it's just because they're struggling to adapt something from the past rather than coming up with environments and scenarios wholecloth

i do find it kind of incredible and amusing seeing the progression of how games have changed in the last 15 years, like seeing a language select at the top of Rescue Team DX, and the fact that it autosaves so it doesn't need to include the tutorial scene in the original that teaches you to go to bed to save. i just think that's really neat :3

i think that's it concerning the first impressions. overall, i'm actually most fascinated by what hasn't changed than what has. i would have expected an updated dialogue beyond adding scenes for the more modern demographic of PMD players instead of what is essentially a copy-paste from the original games. and i know it is copy-paste because i Just read it twice over in both Red and Blue just before booting up the new game! idk if that's a bad thing, but it's strange to me that it is so unaltered. i dunno, my feelings so far are mixed, but i've only just gotten started, so we'll see what comes next!

#pokemon #pokemon mystery dungeon #pmd triple team time #idk what else to say i already said a lot and i'm really hungry vhkjhkl

[smolwritingchick]

Hi Val ! just a little note to thank you for creating Nini because it's super rare to have a black oc with a lot of updates so I hope you will continue like that🫶🏼I've been following you since before you deleted your account🫡 so when I saw that you had taken it back I was super happy ✨️ I just wanted to know if you knew when you were going to post or if you had to rewrite everything. big kisses to you and Nini 🫶🏼

Hi Angie!!! Omggg you are sooo sweet! Thank you thank you thank youuuu! I appreciate you sticking with me after all this time! I still get shooked when readers tell me they've been here before I deleted everything. I should also apologize to you and the old readers. I deleted everything abruptly with no explanation and I never realized just how happy my writing made so many people until I started getting messages on my personal Tumblr blog. And I'm like damn.

What made me start writing again and reposting my work was when I got a text message late last year from one of my elementary school mentors. I've kept in touch with her ever since and she had asked me if I was still writing. That question lit the fire again. I've been asked that question by so many people but when it came from her, something just sparked in me and I said to myself, "I fucking miss this shit. Let me start over,"

So, I set everything up. It's pretty cool to start back from the bottom and get rediscovered. I call myself a beautiful accident when people come across my stuff. I'm satisfied with reposting my work and being a smol part of the Black K-Pop community. I've become more of a casual fan of BTS and I don't follow too much K-Pop like I used to. I surely missed A LOT but it's exciting to watch and read over the things I missed in BTS from late 2020 to now.

I chose to finally write on Wattpad, too. I never used the site like that but I was like, I'm older now, let me at least try to write on it and I fell in love with it. I found the PDF of Bangtan Gal and then I began to reread and edit each chapter. Although lots of gifs and photos aren't there like before, I would rather have all the chapters I wrote for the story be here over some replaceable gifs and photos.

I rewrote a lot of things. Like the dialogue to make sure it would say "Jennie said" instead of "Says" and as I would reread certain chapters new ideas would come about and I would add to it which helped me get my groove back. A good example is the War of Hormone chapter when I thought of even more ideas of Jungkook helping Jennie get used to being in the presence of his stage persona when they perform together for the song. When he grabbed her back and asked her "Where you going?" when she started backing away was in the heat of the moment and I thought it was funny and pretty cute. And then him saying to himself that he hoped to be her boyfriend in his head at the end was another last minute idea when editing.

2+ years of writing the chapters and now I am back to where I stopped writing. It's surreal continuing the story. I hope you all bear with me for the slow updates. I missed how frequently I'd post the already prewritten/edited chapters lol. I was so excited to post this story again.

But anyway, I appreciate you all for taking the time to check out my creativity. I'll continue to work hard! :)

#answered

[lieutenantwilliamrusso]

It Will Come Back S2 1

Warnings: mentions of sex, swearing, 18+ minors DNI

Werewolf Stalker! Billy x Female Reader

A/N: I told myself I would take a break before season 2, but I can't stay away from it I'm having too much fun.

Side note: Have I ever told you the title is from "It Will Come Back" by Hozier? Totally the Billy x Reader anthem for this fic.

Billy is on top of you, one arm holding himself up, the other one encircling your head, hand wrapped in your hair. He’s thrusting into you, cock dragging against every sweet spot inside of you. You’re begging him, to keep going, not to leave, not to stop. He smiles down at you, circling his hips as you whine and writhe from the attention.

“You gonna come for me sweet girl?” He asks, huffing as he approaches his own peak.

“Yes, yes, Billy yes!” You chant.

His mouth moves to your throat, his tongue tracing circles across your bite, and it’s that that pushes you over the edge.

You wake with a start. You’ve been dreaming of him, unable to make Billy leave your mind since you’d kicked him out almost a week ago. If you’re honest with yourself, you’re avoiding it, seeing him, talking to him. You want to be angry, know you have a right to be. He pushed you too hard, too far and you can't just let it go. If you think about it too hard, stare at the bite in the mirror a little too long, the feelings come rushing back and suddenly you’re faced with what you know you have to do.

-

Billy hasn’t been human in two days. It’s excruciating, wondering when you’ll talk to him again, fighting with himself not to go see you anyways. He’s smart enough to know when his actions will make things worse but that doesn’t mean he listens. Not seeing you feels like the worst kind of quitting. So he’s hauling himself through the forest just outside of the city, running until his lungs ache, until he’ll have no choice but to fall into a restless sleep. He’d tried getting plastered, but it’d just made him sad, made it harder not to go to you, not to cry and scream and beg like he wanted to deep down inside.

He knows Frank is probably livid, Billy’s been AWOL from Anvil for days, not answering his phone, avoiding opening the door. It seems like the more Billy allows himself to feel, the more people he has to answer to these days. He knows he can’t stick this out much longer. Soon, he’ll have to head back to the city, to his life, to his job, to you. And if you still won’t talk to him, he’s going to have to make you.

-

It’s Saturday night when you find it. Duke’s collar is collecting dust under your bed, and as you tidy up your bedroom, your fingers brush against it. The leather still gleams, shiny from lack of use. You cradle it in your hands as you bring it to the kitchen. You can’t bring yourself to throw it away, but it’s the last reminder you need. You’re going to break up with Billy. You have to.

Not that there’s much of a relationship anyways. You can’t really be with someone you just lie to all the time, no matter how bad you want them. It’s that little spark of anger that has you picking up the phone and texting him that you’re ready to talk.

-

When Billy reads your text he thinks he might pass out from sheer relief. You want to talk to him. Not just on the phone. You want to see him, be with him. It’s that thought that has him speeding all the way back to the city, human for the first time in days. He knows he must look terrible, must smell even worse, and the second he’s home he takes the fastest shower of his life and then he’s going, driving to you, desperate to be in your presence, smell your hair, stroke your soft skin.

When he knocks on your door, three staccato beats that somehow manage to come off shaky and nervous, you answer only a second later. It’s the look on his face that almost doubles him over with dread. You look resigned, unbothered, like you haven’t missed him at all while he’s been contemplating breaking your door down this entire week.

“Hey. You say flatly.

He doesn’t know what to say. For once in his life, Billy Russo is speechless with fear.

Until suddenly he isn’t.

“You can’t do this.” He says in a rush, entering your apartment and closing the door behind himself.

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say.” You retort.

“You can’t leave me.” Billy pushes, hands shaking. He balls them into fists, eyes boring into your face.

You sigh, eyes closing for a second before you reply.

“Billy, you know we can’t do this. I can’t agree to be with someone I barely know for the rest of my life. Not when I didn’t even get a choice in the matter.”

No, no, no, no, no, no.

“And I told you not to open the door.” Billy answers. He knows it’s a moot point. He would have just broken it down, but he’s desperate to get through to you.

“I thought you were hurt. But I guess I can count that as another lie.”

“Y/N, you don’t know how sorry I am-“

“Sorry because you really are, or just sorry I feel this way?” You cut him off, anger seeping into your eyes, mouth pulling into a tight line.

“You know how I feel about you! I wouldn’t hurt you on purpose.”

“But you would force my hand without me even knowing.” Your eyes are wide, the anger still there, but you also look defeated, maybe even sad. It makes Billy sick.

“Please don’t.” He whispers, hand moving to cup your cheek but you move away at the last second and Billy is becoming less and less sure he’ll survive this.

“You can’t change my mind, Billy. I’m sorry. But we can’t be together.” You say the words slowly, methodically, like you’ve rehearsed them and Billy wonders how long you’ve known you were going to do this.

“I will. I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart. You can be angry, you can fucking hate me but every time you open that door I’ll be there. Waiting for you.”

“Trying to force me to change my mind.”

“It’s all I’m fucking good for, right?” He snaps, nerves shot.

“You said it." You bite back.

Billy laughs humorlessly.

“You forget you can’t get away from me, Y/N. You have to listen to me.” Billy knows this is only pissing you off, but he’s never felt fear like this.

There was fear in Afghanistan. But there was also the knowing that there was a good chance he’d walk away alive, just because he was smart, could strategize and work towards an outcome. Here, with you? It’s all uncertain, uncharted territory he can’t traverse.

He sees it when your face changes. When you go from mildly angry to livid, and it sends a pang through his chest. But he’s too scared, too angry at himself to resist lashing out, even at you.

“Don’t you dare.” You growl.

“Don’t leave me, then.”

“Fuck you!”

“That’s what got us into this mess, maybe we should take it slow, go away together for a while.”

“You’re delusional.” You say. “For you.”

“Do not fucking speak to me in my head. You’re not welcome there, and you’re not welcome in my life. Fuck off, Billy.”

Billy clenches his jaw. “You’re making the wrong choice.”

Suddenly you’re reaching over and flinging something at him. It hits his chest with a dull sting before he realizes it’s his collar, from before.

“Don’t you dare tell me what choices I should be making! This is the first smart thing I’ve done in weeks. You wanna talk about bad decisions? Taking your sick, twisted ass home was one. Get the fuck out and don’t talk to me again.”

Just like that, you’re turning away, ignoring him. You’re throwing him away, acting like the past month has been nothing more than a bad dream you’re ready to wake up from.

When he leaves he slams the door so hard it splinters a little, a reminder for you of how you make him feel. How terrified and angry and sick he is without you. You want to call him twisted? He’ll fucking show you what he’s capable of. You’re never getting away from him. You’ve got nowhere to run where Billy can’t find you, and he’s ready to take up permanent residence in your head.

#billy russo x reader #my fics #billy russo #monster!billy russo

[lumiereandcogsworth]

Day 3 of this writing challenge! Prompt: use the words kitchen, date, and music

This is a modern/college AU btw!! :)

Word count: 464

—

Adam stepped into the kitchen, the smell of spices sizzling with cooked chicken filled the air. The overhead vent was whirring, but that was mostly drowned out by the sound of the music that his girlfriend was dancing to.

He stood in the entryway, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall as a fond smile formed on his face. Belle was at the counter chopping carrots, her hips shaking side to side as her knees bounced up and down. Adam found it amusing, also impressive, considering how precise her carrot chops still managed to be.

“Having fun, are you?” he called over the noise.

Belle turned, smiling at him. “Hey, love! Dance with me!”

She held out her hand and he stepped in, taking it and instantly twirling her. She laughed, returning to the circle of his arms as they rocked in time to the fast beat of the song. They danced only a few more steps. When Adam twirled her again, she saw the chicken on the stove needed tending to and quickly broke from him.

“Oh!”

He laughed, “Cooking and dancing… probably not the easiest combination.”

“Not with that attitude,” she replied.

Adam leaned against the opposite counter. “You say that about everything.”

“And I mean it every time!”

He smirked. “Right. So, where are Lumiere and Plumette? Haven’t seen them all day.”

“Well, during the day they were in class. Then I think one of them had work? Or maybe both. Hmm,” she thought for a moment, bringing the hand that was holding a knife up to her chin, causing a pang of anxiety in Adam’s gut. She dropped it and shrugged. “I don’t know. Anyway, Plumette texted and said they were going out tonight, so they probably won’t be back until late.”

“I see,” he stood back up off the counter, walking over behind her and snaking his arms around her waist. “So what you’re telling me is we have the place to ourselves?”

Belle chuckled, “Mhm. So I thought we’d have a little dinner date, just you and me.”

“Excellent idea,” he said, kissing her shoulder. “It smells divine.”

She turned in his arms, reaching hers up around his neck. “Thank you. I’m hoping it’ll taste even better.”

They grinned at each other, the care-free peace of two young lovers on a Friday night. Suddenly another song started playing, one that immediately sparked excitement in Belle’s eyes.

“Oooh we have to dance to this one.”

They moved more toward the middle of the kitchen floor, quickly finding the rhythm and falling into easy steps. Adam twirled her once, twice, three times, causing her to laugh as her hair billowed around. Dinner would take place soon enough, but for now it was just them; dancing along the linoleum floor.

#silly dancing beloveds !! #adelle #adam x belle #belle x adam #beauty and the beast #beauty and the beast 2017 #beauty and the beast (2017) #batb 2017 #batb fanfic #batb fic #lydia writes! #april writing challenge #modern au adelle

[sapphic-courtship-for-dummies]

ok ok ok so. i'm in a very complicated situation rn. lemme start from the beginning: -so i'm best friends with this girl for years -our friend group talks abt sexualities, me + other girl come to conclusion that we're bisexual, the best friend thinks she *might* be too -realize i'm in love with her -confess to her later -she doesn't like me that way

-i don't think she's straight????? -time passes -we're both in a religion btw -she asks me one day abt our religion's views on homosexuality -i tell her one of the views, that it's alright -she says ok -she's still questioning btw -i think she might be bi/pan leaning towards guys

-i move to a different country -i leave the religion, not out yet to anyone tho -but we still text -she sends me a post one day abt homosexuality -it's that other view, that homosexuality is wrong -she believes in that view and is trying to persuade me to undo my bisexuality in some way or ignore it -getting strong indoctrination and internalized homophobia vibes here -she thinks i'm still in the religion and is trying to convince me on her views on homosexuality -i try to argue back carefully since i can't let her know i've left -anyway we fight -and apologize a few days later -and she suggests we don't talk abt religious stuff because we always fight abt it

-i say ok -i do flood my insta story (that she sees) with lgbt posts out of passive aggressiveness -i know i know, but i couldnt help it because i have very liberal views and i feel very strongly abt religious homophobia and sexuality -i sort of wanted to punish and test her -'this is me, this sexuality is a part of me, not a test by god, and i'm gonna show it and make it obvious, and you have to choose between remaining with me despite it or not.'

-we don't speak for three months.

-our only interaction is viewing each others' stories -she texts me with something random a few days later -we're talking again -i've forgiven her at this point -after all, before i left, i was just like her, i believed the same things she did -i want to believe that just like me, she'll come around and see things for what they truly are. -idk what to do till then

-i'm still in love with her -i still feel elated whenever she texts -i still feel that spark when i hear her name

-i want to get over her, over it -but still remain her best friend -it's hard because a huge part of getting over someone is to cut them off completely -and for those three months i did not think of her, so it worked a little -but when she texted it all came flooding back.

-i'm so, so, so fucked. what do i do?

Hello dear anon. I am so, so sorry about your situation, and even more sorry I wasn't able to respond until now. I know it's been quite some time, but in the case that you are still struggling with this or that anyone else can benefit from hearing your story and my two cents about it, here's my answer.

It can be really complicated navigating relationships with people who do not share the same values or outlooks as you do, and not everyone has the ability or desire to cut ties with those people. My best friend growing up was one of those people who was very indoctrinated in her religious upbringing and beliefs, which led to the two of us having more frequent arguments as we got older, and eventually ended in a painful split and end in our friendship. I don't regret our separation, looking back I think it was for the best because we just valued, believed, and wanted different things in life. I still wish her the best, but if what allows us both to live our happiest lives is being apart, then so be it.

I understand your pain, and your conflict, however I know that I personally cannot tolerate any kind of...well, intolerance, like that in the people I associate with. I just don't have the energy. Ultimately it's up to you whether you believe your lives will be happier together or apart. That also includes whether you decide to move on from her romantically or not. I can attest that--at least in my own experience--it's not impossible to get over being in love with someone while still interacting with them or being friends with them. That's my track record so far anyway, having two exes that are still friends of mine and even speak to regularly. That isn't to say that it isn't still hard sometimes, or that it doesn't take a certain type of strength or maturity to be able to maintain these relationships and let go of the expectations and hopes you once had for what they could have been, but it is certainly possible and even worthwhile if you can stomach it.

I don't have a straight answer for you, as easy as I wish it could be. I see three main potential roads that you could go down, those being: continuing to wait and see if she'll ever come around to your side of things, letting go of your romantic expectations and moving on while trying to maintain the friendship, or just letting go. I don't know how much things may have changed or not since you sent this ask, but if you're still at a crossroads then there's a chance that you had a gut feeling reading those options. Only you know what you really need, and sometimes you don't know until you get it, or you start walking down that path. All I know is that you have to do what's best for you, as painful or difficult as that may be.

Change is possible in all people, you're living proof of that, but sometimes it takes people lifetimes to open their hearts and minds to learn or unlearn what they need to. Whatever you decide, I hope you are able to prioritize your own happiness in this short life that you have now. You deserve to live proudly as your most authentic self, to love freely surrounded by people who accept you for who and what you are--all of you. Time is precious, your time here is precious, so use it wisely. Use it to do right by yourself, your heart, and your values, to live the life that you truly want.

So, my friend, I leave you with a final question to ponder:

In the long run, what do you truly want?

I hope that this can be of some help or comfort, my DMs are still open if you ever need a friend. <3

All my love and best wishes always,

Your friend,

Sappho 💓

#asks #anons #ask #anon #wlw #sapphic #bisexual #queer #lgbtq+ #lgbt #lgbtq #religion #cw religion #religion mention #tw religion #homophobia #religious homophobia #queerphobia #friendship #crushes #love #romance #advice #love advice #romance advice #relationships #values