#because like. lets say she slept w every man in that camp and then some | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

catch-the-wind · 3 years

Text

when reader is sick hc's

finally posting writing here so true

n e ways okay so i’m brainrotting about the genshin charas taking care of their s/o’s when they’re sick 🥺 and now i'm feeling sick, sigh

ohm and sulien ambros belong to @teyvattherapist! they're such good chara's, i know i'm writing them here but i deffo recommend reading up on them

okay here u go, have some hc's that are kinda sorta long and by that i mean 2.5k- i haven't proofread this bc it's 4am and im going to BED but if i write for any other chara's i'll post a second part <3 mwah

tags: gn!reader, diluc x reader, kaeya x reader, jean x reader, lisa x reader, albedo x reader, dainsleif x reader, tartaglia x reader, ohm ambros x reader, sulien ambros x reader, soft bean hours

diluc

is not working or traveling when his partner is sick

absolutely makes them soup and hot tea and drinks

he’s trying to make them food but he’s not the best cook so he’s asking adelinde for help

absolutely asks jean, barbara, and ohm for help while his partner is sleeping but he’s so awkward LMAO

was absolutely frantic the first day he found out his partner was sick tho, he made them come over to the winery so they could sleep there and he can take care of them <3

absolutely lied about what room was his so they slept in his bed

“hmm this guest room is so furnished diluc are all your rooms like this” and no, no they are not, this room is his, bestie

diluc slept on a sofa in his bedroom and did work on the table that was supposed to be for flowers. kinda stressed over abyss order locations but was more worried ab his partner being okay so he was distracted

he just put the flowers on his nightstand for his partner to see when they woke up <3

gives his partner forehead kisses because they won’t let him kiss them on the lips and he gives them the gentlest cheek kisses while they sleep

also gives his partner his clothes to wear <3

cuddles them and reads to them when they’re awake and TEMPLE KISSES OH MY GOD

kaeya comes over because he’s worried his brother and his brother’s s/o haven’t been seen in a little while

n e way, diluc gets sick after his partner gets better and they nursed each other back to health

kaeya

like diluc, he took off work so he could take care of his s/o i,mediately after he found out they were sick

wouldn’t force them to stay at his place tho, he’d probably let them recover in their own place

but he might make them go to the kof hq or the cathedral just so they can be taken care of by a proper healer

he absolutely soothes their fevers and stuff w cryo and also the man can heal himself w his elem skill ofc he can fix someone if he tries hard enough <3

he gives kisses no matter how much his partner says not to but he’ll also give them butterfly kisses so it’s soft moments too~ sigh, ur too cute alberich

asks ohm and barbara and albedo and lisa for potions and such to help his partner feel better but he’s really lowkey so he doesn’t seem SUPER worried

he just hates seeing his partner not feeling so well </3

refreshes his partner’s vase of flowers at their bedside every day

brings home work so he can watch over his partner. he can’t cook super well either so he asks for help and brings stuff home from good hunter too

jean was okay to let kaeya off of work and diluc would never admit it (man practically swore everyone to secrecy smh) but he helped take up some of kaeya’s duties in his stead

and kae, the alcoholic, didn’t even drink while his partner was sick bc he was lowkey worried they would need his help w smth and he didn’t want to be drunk just in case <3

many cuddles despite protests of getting him sick <3

jean

absolutely uses her healer skills to make her partner feel better

panicked when they were still sick and thought it was her fault </3 she asked barbara and ohm for help and they just told jean to relax a bit bc her partner was sick and it wasn’t going to be a quick fix

wanted to take off work but didn’t, so she just brought her work with her

kaeya and ohm very kindly took up her other duties where she had to leave so she could be w her partner

her partner is staying in the kof hq where they get access to ohm and barbara comes to visit <3 but also so that jean can sleep comfortably enough close by bc you cannot tell me this woman does not sometimes sleep in her office or the library and barely makes it to the kof dormitories sometimes

she’s so worried the entire time, she’s probably got a few gray hairs and a new frown line smh

she has clothes that aren’t her work clothes???? it’s so foreign seeing her in stuff like pajamas. you didn’t even know jean owned pajamas

jean sets them up in her bed at home (yeah she has a place outside of the kof hq??? it’s surprising) but it’s a big bed so they can rest and she’ll have the lamp on her side on while she sits up and does work

absolutely dotes on them. she’s good at making foods that make them feel better, she’s just a good healer that way <3

albedo, klee, venti, kaeya, lisa, and ohm all come over to check on jean and co and make sure everyone is doing okay <3 lots of food brought

if jean was asked to sing to her partner normally, she probably wouldn’t bc she’d probably get embarrassed but i think she probably sounds v good and venti would give her his lyre to try out a musical instrument too. but also she’d read to her partner and they’d probably fall asleep together uwu

lisa

works part time hours at the library so she can go visit her s/o

probably asks them to stay at the kof hq for easier access to medical assistance and plus she’s almost always there

“cutie” but worried and very 🥺 (pleading emoji)

makes soup and potions and reads to her partner until they fall asleep

also super playful omg she’s still got a smile on and is full of affection while she walks her fingers up her partner’s arm to their face so she can cup their cheek

she’ll make her partner laugh and smile and blush even when they’re sick, but she makes them laugh until they cough sometimes and immediately feels so bad

jean, barbara, kaeya, albedo and ohm all come to visit with different foods and soups and medicines and such

klee comes knocking and gives lisa some good fisherman’s toast and asks lisa’s s/o if they want to hug dodoco b/c that always makes klee feel better

purple roses galore, lisa has them in her partner’s room and they’ve got a potion to make the. uh. sniffer? to make the sniffer feel better. don’t ask me how, idk but she would find a way to make them physically feel better with flowers

reads to her partner ofc, and she tells them stories ab her own life and time at sumeru sans the crazies

worried looks when her s/o is sleeping but also the softest smiles when they wake up pls-

albedo

cutest lil frown on his face when he finds out his partner is sick

immediately they are taken home and he’s testing to confirm what’s wrong w them and what he can do to speed up their recovery

he’s more distracted than usual at work but he’s coming over to your place all the time w what paperwork he can do

also sketches his partner while they don’t know. he’s got lots of beautiful candids of his partner sleeping, looking out the window, falling asleep, reading, even drinking water. he’s made the most mundane things look captivating

kaeya and ohm come to check on albedo when he doesn’t show up for work after a few days and it’s bc he’s taking care of his s/o with food and soup and alchemical potions and shit. and when kae and ohm come in, they find his partner opening the door wrapped in a blanket while albedo is asleep cuddling the pillow they left bc he stayed up the night before making soup and reading to them

klee has camped out on his partner’s couch, she helps w the cooking too~ she absolutely lets them hug dodoco and gives them a treasure to feel better too LOL

many kisses from klee and albedo, and they also go out to get treats for albedo’s partner too

domestic albedo cooking in his partner’s kitchen and for once it isn’t some alchemical potion that he might blow up the stove with

tartaglia

takes off work entirely but BOY OH BOY is he stir crazy smh

brings his partner to his apartment to rest <3

he’s so worried ab his s/o that he makes all the sick ppl food the first day, orders from wanmin restaurant when his partner wants smth different, and also gets toys and such to entertain them otherwise

also reads to his partner but, again, he gets stir crazy after a while

absolutely does workouts and katas in the living room and phew shirtless tartaglia working out? gets the heart rate up for sure ahem

rushes to his partner tho omg- need soup? water? a trip to the bathroom? another blanket? he goes to them the MOMENT he hears them moving around. absolutely dotes on them <3

his family knows ab his partner and he’s probably written letters ab them being sick~ his family sent snezhnayan herbs and flowers and medicines and such

zhongli comes around because he wants sugar daddy!tartaglia with tea and medicine from bubu pharmacy. hu tao is in tow with well wishes and a “hope i don’t find you at work!” which is. a little worrying because aren’t you just a little sick-

many kisses from tartaglia because he is Needy and he’ll absolutely get sick from cuddling his partner while they sleep

also he’ll probably just like. envelop his partner while they sleep. they’re all cuddled into him and he’s actually so warm it’s nice bc they’re cold w a fever and he’s living for comforting them

he’s so worried tho, he’s got the frowny face and he’s so adorable but he just doesn’t want his partner to feel sick

dainsleif

the man camps in ruins, he’s going to his partner’s house smh

he doesn’t go into the church either LOL so expect him in his partner’s home making dinner and doing their grocery shopping thanks

he would get ohm and barbara to come over tho <3 “fix them please” but also “how can i fix them”

is so dead set on making sure his partner takes their medicine at the right times, he’s so soft for them and them alone

cooks soup and old recipes he barely remembers from khaenri’ah. he doesn’t really get sick, so he doesn’t remember these ones too clearly. deffo brings back old memories he’d long forgotten

reads to his partner and tells them old stories of how the world used to be, his travels, gives them the gossip on a certain khaenri’ahn but doesn’t give away the name

ohm comes over with medicine and lollipops bc dain is so unlikely to go to the cathedral to get barbara smh

but also dain, so self-sufficient, is unlikely to want to ask for help, so ohm just goes to help anyway

dain with the old khaenri’ahn lullabies and tucking his partner into his arms and singing quietly while he holds them and rocks them to sleep

dain is immortal, he’s giving his partner kisses bc “i’m immortal, ofc i won’t get sick”

he got sick

but his s/o nursed him back to health and then there were smooches the end

ohm ambros

the doctor with his ill lover oh my god

he’s frowny, he’s taking care of his partner at his home in springvale and his home clinic is open to everyone else. but everyone knows his partner is the first priority LOL

kaeya and albedo come over to see if ohm is okay or if his house needs to be checked up on. they’re wondering if he went on a last-minute expedition to sumeru and didnt tell them

diluc comes over too, he’s just checking up on his best friend but he’s also stealing a cherry lollipop smh. he heard from kae that ohm’s partner is sick tho, so he brings some soup and good food over from adelinde. he also brings some of his own specialty food tho, the once upon a time in mondstadt <3

sulien sending letters to his big brother to see if his brother’s s/o is okay

ohm is also just super protective of his partner, there are not many people who come into his life who he loves and lets in in the first place. he’s absolutely trying to heal them with his own vitality, so their recovery is much shorter than initially expected

barbara also comes over w jean to check up on ohm and co, complete w a goody basket of soup, a teddy bear, flowers, and books

ohm reading to his partner <3 he’s got such a soothing voice even if his accent is wack LMAO. he’s reading stories and even his paperwork because just his presence is comforting

he puts his hands on his partner’s forehead to soothe the fever goodbye

ohm will not sing for his s/o simply bc he doesn’t think he sounds v good. and he probably doesn’t but it would be so cute to hear him try and please ohm? 🥺

n e way i want smooches idc if i’m sick KISS ME OHM AMBROS

sulien ambros

when he finds out his partner is sick, the man blinks like twice and then suggests so calmly that they go to his apartment in liyue

man does not sleep normally, he’s just going to nurse his partner back to health and read during their recovery. fruit tart can cover his duties for him <3

sulien cooks for his partner tho, he’s making soup and stuff and getting medicine from bubu’s pharmacy. he’s also picking up books on the way home but some of them are to be read to his partner so it’s okay-

like tartaglia, sulien works out while his partner rests and goes to them if he hears them moving around. he’s reading to his partner and not so frowny, but the slightest furrow of this man’s brow is already such a big expression of his concern <3

sends letters to ohm asking for advice ab how to help his partner feel better. ohm just sends a letter back with “i’m coming” and shows up within the day LMAO

reads to his partner, and the monotony of his voice is soothing and lulls them to sleep. he just looks at them affectionately (well affectionate for him) and presses a kiss to their forehead before finishing the story on his own and in his head

tartagalicious comes over and brings food, flowers and a teddy bear with some of sandrone’s paperwork but he sends a smile to sulien’s partner with some well wishes

scara comes over too just to visit and check to see where sandrone is, but scara is a grumpy bean so he just says “feel better” all brooding and like it’s a command to one of the fatui subordinates LOL

sulien like ohm uses his cold hands to soothe his partner’s fever and also gives them forehead kisses <3

Edit: a link to part 2

#genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #jean x reader #lisa x reader #albedo x reader #dainsleif x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe x reader #ohm ambros x reader #sulien ambros x reader #lane's ocs #genshin fluff #hc's #lyz.writes #i'm finally posting here omg #so many tags...#goodNIGHT

520 notes · View notes

concussed-to-pieces · 3 years

Text

The Mettle Of A Man; Part Twenty

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Welcome to the end of our tale, everyone! Thank you so much for reading and enjoying over the years. I love you so much and appreciate you more than words can say. Here's to 2021, my friends! Ad Victoriam, and stay safe! Tagging @anonymouscosmos, @culturalrebel, @wrestlingfae, @toxiicpop, @mercy-and-malice, @deepkittycollecto, @nelba, @mechanicalism, @commandershepardshtole, @valkyriejack and @kovu-the-mythical-being. Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Part Four: Finding Brandis

Part Five: Weston Water And Oberland

Part Six: Meeting Preston And Matthew

Part Seven: Radstag And Radstorm

Part Eight: The Return To Sanctuary Hills

Part Nine: Domestic Ruminations

Part Ten: Institutionalized

Part Eleven: Two Weeks, Three Days

Part Twelve: Haylen’s Warning And The Glowing Sea

Part Thirteen: Under Fire

Part Fourteen: Dichotomy

Part Fifteen: The Litany Trial

Part Sixteen: Nice Try

Part Seventeen: Preparations

Part Eighteen: Divide And Conquer

Part Nineteen: Lucky

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains holiday celebrations, brief emotional distress and unprotected sex. Stay safe!]

Time seemed to pass both too fast and not fast enough.

Synths were accommodated, reprogrammed at their wishes or helped to adjust to their new lives. Doctor Amari and the rest of the Railroad had no shortage of work, and Desdemona eventually tapped MacCready and Cait to oversee their caravan logistics back to the Capital Wasteland.

"And the people of the Commonwealth slept soundly, for the greatest monster was gone." Nick had remarked, touching the brim of his fedora in a half-salute. The old detective quickly appointed himself as head of first impressions in Diamond City, making certain that no trouble befell any wayward synth that accidentally wandered in. There was still a lot of work to be done to repair the Broken Mask incident, after all.

New settlements sprang up overnight and while there may not have been total harmony, there was the sensation of the whole Commonwealth heaving a sigh of relief. Recruits flocked to the Minutemen and Brotherhood in droves as Piper's Publick Occurrences spread the word of their successful campaign against the Institute.

Commonwealth boogeyman decimated by combination effort: Brotherhood Of Steel and Minutemen join forces to save Boston from bodysnatchers!

Deacon had effortlessly deflected Piper every time she asked for an interview, the mysterious man more than content to keep the Railroad shadowy. The less everyone knew, the less they could tell, and that suited him just fine. "You did real good, Icebox. Helped a lot of people."

Elder Brandis sought approval to establish a permanent outpost at the Boston airport ruins, the former paladin keen to send the Prydwen back to the Capital Wasteland. "Oh the Prydwen's a fine ship, but put me in the field any day!" The airship, once a proud symbol of the Maxson reign, now served little purpose aside from blocking the sun on occasion. Scribes laughed and played in the massive shadow, kicking up dust until the circle where the litany trial had taken place was nothing but a memory.

X6-88 had floundered for several weeks, the courser falling into a depressive slump that not even Curie could rouse him from. Oddly enough, it was Preston who ended up being able to haul him out of the darkness, the lieutenant making a point to visit the courser to drag him from his room for target practice and other low-effort patrol duties. "Sometimes all folks need is a hand, General."

The courser went on to reluctantly take the role of defective defector, working as a consultant to the Minutemen to help ward off any future attacks by desperate coursers or Institute scientists. Preston found his input invaluable, and the duo could often be found in the lieutenant's quarters poring over threadbare maps and trading tactical information. Preston also seemed to have a calming effect on the synth hunter, helping to blunt some of the cold steel edge that X6 had honed his entire life. Add on to that the constant caring presence of Curie, and they made a strange but surprisingly effective trio.

With the new supply line firmly established between the verdant utopia of Starlight Drive-In and Oberland Station, the strain of the prior lean months finally eased a bit. Faces grew less pinched even with the increased burden of the synths, and many settlers began to tentatively plan for a small celebration in the beginning of the winter.

"'The Holidays' is what they been callin' it, real simple and succinct. Some freaky hodgepodge of everyone's traditions. I guess a lot of folks on that fancy director's board also celebrated around this time of year. Not that the synths would know, naturally." Hancock had muttered, his expression sour. "Poor bastards always workin', and they ain't got fuckall to show for it. Seems like a shit deal."

Elder Brandis granted Danse an extended leave of absence after the toppling of the Institute without the paladin even requesting it, the large man dumbfounded for a moment upon receiving the news.

"If you're up for it, I could use a hand back at Sanctuary." Vega had grinned up at him, her eyes squinting a little under the force of her smile. "A lot of prep work goes into a holiday, after all."

...

Danse had taken it upon himself to retreat from Shaun's previous bedroom when he accompanied Vega and her son back to Sanctuary. He debated heavily on returning to the airport; after all, there was no real reason for him to stay in Sanctuary Hills, at least none that he dared to dwell upon. The few small projects that Vega had to manage were easily accomplished and he was left a bit lost in the wake of the excess of his leave.

Vega, however, had begun framing in what was once the carpark for her house. Sturges helped of course, and once Danse caught on he was touched by the gesture.

"I don't want you to feel like there isn't room for you just because Shaun is back." Elizabeth had said, lugging a chunk of scrap metal from the wreckage of her car.

The paladin had to take a moment, claiming sawdust in his eye as the culprit.

Now Danse lived in the area she had partitioned off for him, uncertain if he still believed he was intruding. Those thoughts were troubling, because if he could get comfortable…

What if Vega eventually decided that Shaun needed a father and what if...what if she chose a real man? Really real, not a sham like Danse was. And if she did, what man would permit Danse to stay? What real man would permit a synth that was currently entangled by these...human emotions to remain on their property, even if Danse proved he wasn't a threat?

What man would believe him if he claimed to have no interest in Vega? Hell, Danse didn't even believe himself.

But he didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay. He wanted to tell Elizabeth...well, there were a lot of things he wanted to tell her.

His silence was more of a burden each day, and Danse knew he must seem sullen. It gnawed at him; it felt like lying every time he choked the words back down because it wasn't the right time or he just didn't know what to say, and he didn't trust himself not to say something foolish.

He decided he would wait until after the holiday gathering. Whatever the verdict was, it shouldn't take away from the joy she was clearly feeling over the festivities. So Danse threw himself into helping Sturges, Mama Murphy and the Longs around Sanctuary.

Secretly making a toy truck for Shaun had been a painstaking process fraught with peril. Mainly because Danse was somewhat indelicate and carving tiny wheels had never been his area of expertise. Oh certainly, he could build a survival camp with nothing but a combat knife and time, but a toy...

The paladin had spent countless hours creating prototypes in his cobbled-together room as he pondered the path he should take, sometimes working into the wan light of the morning. He eventually showed the truck to Jun, immensely fearful that Shaun might not enjoy the toy. Danse couldn't recall his own interests when he had been Shaun's age, and thus fell back on the other man's expertise.

"It looks good! Sand the wheels a little more, maybe give it a coat or two of paint." Jun praised the pensive paladin, turning the vehicle over in his hands to examine it. "Kyle loved these kinds of things y'know, trucks and trains and little toy boats." His gaze grew distant for a moment, the rough plaything stilling in his grasp. "Marcy thinks she's pregnant." He said abruptly.

"Pregnant?" Danse repeated without meaning to, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.

Jun nodded jerkily. "It's been three months now. She's scared, Mr. Danse, real scared. Thinks something bad will happen."

"What can we do?" The paladin asked sharply.

Jun gawked up at him, seeming confused. "We?"

"I am unfamiliar with this process. What needs to be done?"

"I...I don't follow, Mr. Danse."

"To simplify the duration! What precautions can I-"

"Whoa, hang on." Jun protested. "We aren't sure if the general will even let us stay here with an extra mouth to feed. I've been trying to figure out how to bring up the subject." He admitted.

"You haven't even told General Vega yet?!" Danse squawked.

"W-Well, no! I figured maybe we would...we'd see how the winter went and play it by ear." Jun mumbled, seeming defensive.

Danse seized the other man's arm, heedless of his protests as he hauled him across the front lawn to Vega's abode. Today was the day that Vega had planned to sort through decorations; there were many left over from the fall holiday the Commonwealth had been preparing to celebrate before...well, time had stopped for most when the bombs fell, it was understandable that faded pumpkins and skeletons would still grace crumbling walls with their orangey-cream presence.

Vega looked up from the veritable pile of brittle, salvaged decor in confusion when Danse barged into their...her home, the paladin immediately halting and offering a sharp salute. "Danse! I...uh, what's wrong?"

"Mr. Long has something he needs to discuss with you immediately." Danse informed her, tugging the other man forward.

"I-I...er, General, you…" Jun struggled to speak, twiddling his fingers wildly. "M-Marcy--"

"What's wrong, Jun? Is she okay?" Vega asked, getting to her feet and shooting Danse a worried look. "Did something happen?"

"B-Baby." Jun squeaked. "Pregnant."Backhand went still, her freckles stark against the fresh pallor of her face. "I'm sorry, General, I know we haven't discussed it beforehand a-and I know food's been better as of late...I-I guess she got enough nutrients and got healthy enough for...er, well, you know." Mr. Long looked like he wanted to disappear into the ground. "We should have spoke to you sooner; I don't know if she can leave with the weather being--"

"Wh-Where are you going? Why leave, what?" Vega stammered, "Jun, you can't travel now, if something goes wrong-!"

"We weren't sure if you'd let us stay!" The thin man interrupted her frantically. "This is your base, after all, and you didn't sign on for an extra person to worry about."

Vega inhaled deeply. "Danse, could you give me a minute with Mr. Long?" She requested, her voice suspiciously even.

Danse obeyed, closing the front door gently and meandering a pointed distance down the main thoroughfare so as not to eavesdrop. He had a relatively good idea of how the conversation would go, despite Jun's misgivings. So he wandered down to the huge tree at the end of the cul-de-sac, fiddling with the truck in his pocket absently as he stared upwards at the barren branches.

"Y'know kid," Mama Murphy piped up from her customary chair on her porch and the paladin turned to face her, giving the elderly woman his full attention. "When I had the Sight, I saw this place. Sanctuary." She nodded in the direction of the river, then gestured upwards. "The bridge, and this tree. Massive and old, worn out from all those years." She cocked her head, giving Danse an appraising look. "The tree though, it was...covered in lights. Like what you see in the pre-war mags. The Holidays, shinin' like a beacon of hope at the end of the tunnel."

Danse hummed, the vaguest beginnings of an idea taking root in his mind. He couldn't bring Vega's old life back, but maybe...maybe he could bring something from it back to her. Like what you see in the pre-war mags.

"I think you're pickin' up what I'm puttin' down, kid." Mama Murphy's smile was knowing, the old woman reaching over to pet Dogmeat. The dog seemed to materialize out of thin air sometimes! "Now get to it."

...

Backhand was already scurrying around the kitchen when Danse rose on the morning of the Holiday celebration, the paladin pausing only momentarily to yawn in the doorway before sleepily offering his assistance. "Is there something I can help with, Vega?"

"Uh, Sturges, he said something about you and stuff from Goodneighbor, I think?" Elizabeth replied, obviously preoccupied with whatever she had in the semi-functional oven. Danse nodded, trudging across the kitchen to tug on his boots by the door.

Shaun bounded out of the bathroom, his face still damp from his morning wash. "Oh, can I help too? Please Mom, let me help Mister Danse and Mister Sturges!" He begged.

"You'd better stay right where Danse and Sturges can see you." Backhand instructed him sternly, one oven-mitted hand gesturing to indicate the gravity of the situation. "Otherwise you're coming straight back inside. Go put on your warm coat."

Shaun cheered in delight, racing back to his room.

"It's okay that he's with you two, right? I know he's not your responsibility." Backhand continued in an undertone to the paladin.

Danse's throat tightened and it took him a moment to respond, "I don't mind at all. He's a very well-behaved child."

"Let me know if he's an issue and I'll bring him back inside. I just need to get this done and the oven is being all-"

Danse stood up and placed his hands on her shoulders, deliberately schooling his expression into something more stern. "General, you're doing a fine job. Stop worrying."

"Am I? Shit, I really hope so." Elizabeth mumbled, tipping her forehead until it rested against his chest. Danse prayed she couldn't hear his heart, hammering merely from her proximity. God, his body was nothing but an embarrassment waiting to happen. "I've never really done this crap. Not sure if I'm cut out for it."

The momentary respite was broken when Shaun reappeared in his oversized flannel and oilcloth jacket, the child bolting past the two adults to put on his boots. Danse reluctantly released Backhand, noting how flushed her face was but not really daring to dwell on it. "I'll...I'll watch him." The paladin said, his voice a bit stilted. "I promise."

"Thank you." Backhand mumbled, wiping her eyes and then returning to coddle…whatever it was in the oven.

"Ready, Shaun?" Danse asked the boy, who nodded rapidly and extended a hand.

The snow outside was still fresh from the night before and Danse took a moment to appreciate the view of the Commonwealth covered in a thin layer of white. Off in the distance, the towering crimson insignia of the Red Rocket gasoline station stood stark against the backdrop of the gray sky. Even further down the road slumbered the empty shell of Concord, the tallest of the town's dilapidated buildings only just visible from the paladin's position.

Shaun tugged at his hand, pulling his attention back to the present. "Mister Danse, Mister Sturges is waiting for us!" The child announced, waving up at the engineer who was currently settled into a crook of the brittle branches that graced the tree on the cul-de-sac island. "Hi Mister Sturges!"

"Howdy fellas! Come to give me a helpin' hand?" Sturges called, grinning down at the two of them.

"What assistance can we offer?" Danse queried, wary that the other man might suggest Shaun climb up to him. His fears were quickly allayed when Sturges instead asked Shaun and Danse to begin untangling the long strands of old lights.

Hancock and his ilk had arrived from Goodneighbor, bearing the gifts of dubious treats and many, many mangled strings of lights. Goodneighbor had always been drenched in neon, after all, so Danse had assumed the ghoul mayor would be the best person to call upon for aid. It would appear that Hancock had delivered in spectacular fashion.

"With your help, we'll have this place lookin' pretty as a picture in no time!"

…

Maybe she had bitten off slightly more than she could chew, trying to cook a traditional dinner. Backhand sighed, glumly poking at the cold poultry with a wooden spoon. Her cooking skills had never been much to write home about in the first place, and this only served to solidify that fact.

"Oh Mum, I'm so sorry. The old oven just isn't how it used to be." Codsworth commented, his mechanical voice tinged with melancholy.

"It's not a big deal, Codsworth. I hate to waste the food, that's all." Backhand muttered, assuring herself that she wasn't fighting back frustrated tears, her eyes were just tired. "Damn thing didn't even get to the warm phase."

"Mum, if I might suggest…?" The robot started hesitantly, carrying on when she nodded. "Perhaps it can be salvaged. After all, we make bread in that same pan by tucking it beneath the hot coals out front. What do you say, shall we give it a go?"

"Got nothing to lose, right?"

"It will be just fine, Mum! You're an adaptive sort." Codsworth remarked, drifting out the front door to stoke the usual cooking fire to life once more. "Indeed, just fine!" He called.

Vega shook her head ruefully. "Oh I'm sure." The woman grumbled. "Can't cook and comes with baggage. What a catch ol' Vega is." At least the bread had come out well, in spite of the brisk weather. She could thank whoever for that small favor.

Once Codsworth had coaxed the embers to life in the fire pit, Elizabeth bundled up and brought the still-cold cast-iron pot outside. Maybe it had been wishful thinking to believe that the oven portion of her stove would still work. Or even heat at all. It had been promising earlier in the week, but this might be a blessing in disguise. If the whole house had gone up due to a cooking malfunction...well, the holidays wouldn't be too happy then, would they?

"Please cook." She begged under her breath, troweling hot coals onto the battered dutch oven lid. "I need this, y'know? Just a little victory, that's all I'm asking for here."

"Shall I get started on the tatoes, Miss Vega?"

Elizabeth nodded, only half-listening to Codsworth. She knew she would have a good forty five minutes to an hour to wait, and it wasn't as if it was colder outside than it was inside. The joys of semi-functional heating!

Vega shook her head at herself after a second, since when did she dwell on everything that Sanctuary wasn't? At the end of the day, it was her home. She wouldn't trade it for the world, and she knew she had much more than most people.

At that thought, her gaze wandered to where Danse and Shaun were. The larger man had Shaun on his shoulders while he patiently unwound a massive bundle of flickering string lights. Shaun, for his part, was passing the untangled lights up to Sturges. The engineer slid down the ladder so he could reach the child, looping the lights over his arm before climbing back up and painstakingly placing them in the gnarled grasp of the tree's limbs.

The manufactured cheer that the lights had given off pre-war was still somewhat there, though the radiant colors were washed out to pastel and the warm whites had gone dingy gray. Instead of it being a melancholy reminder that her life had changed irreparably, Backhand was overcome with gratitude. For her son's safe return, regardless of his synthetic makeup, and for the man who was currently carrying Shaun on his shoulders. For her home, for her family.

A family.

Perhaps she was getting a little ahead of herself. After all, Danse was still adjusting to life in ordinary time. It would be selfish of her to voice her feelings to him while he was coming to terms with everything that had happened. For better or for worse, their lives were different now.

It ought to be enough that he was in her life at all. She should be content. His presence alone was a miracle; for all intents and purposes he should be dead. Yet there he was, mere feet away, helping to brighten up the holiday celebration.

Tonight there would be a multitude of visitors. God only knew how many would arrive from settlements near and far, to say nothing of Goodneighbor, Diamond City, the Prydwen and the Castle! It would be an incredibly busy evening for certain. Hancock had arrived early with a posse of ragtag drifters from Goodneighbor, all of them offering gifts of food or scavenged ornaments to decorate. Hence the massive mound of lights that was currently being diligently sorted through.

The aforementioned ghoul appeared to have delegated the task of quality checking the lights, as his form currently leaned against the faded blue siding of her house. With cigarette smoke wafting from his mouth and nasal cavity in equal amounts, he seemed content to just watch the chaos unfold.

"Aren't you a little chilly?" Backhand queried, raising an eyebrow. The mayor was still clad in his usual garb of...for lack of a better term, repurposed period dress. Granted it wasn't seasonably cold out, at least not like how she remembered it being before the bombs dropped.

"Nah, we ghouls run pretty warm. Ham's like a portable space heater." Hancock answered, giving her a lazy grin. "Cute of you to worry, though. I must be growin' on ya'."

"Whoa there, let's not get too crazy."

"Whatcha' think, General?" Sturges shouted from his perch, waving to get her attention.

Danse turned in place, appearing to realize that she was watching as his hands flew up and grabbed Shaun's legs, stabilizing the small boy on his shoulders.

Backhand couldn't keep from smiling when she called back, "it looks wonderful! Keep up the great work!"

"That ain't the only thing that looks wonderful, right Sunshine?" Hancock snickered, rolling his eyes at the now-sputtering woman. "You better give the Brave Little Toaster the ride of his life, that's all I gotta' say."

"Hancock!" Vega hissed, making a half-hearted swipe at the mayor. "You fuckin'--"

"Ah ah, little pitchers!" Hancock scolded, tilting his head to the side to draw Vega's attention to the rapidly-approaching form of Duncan, MacCready's son. "Gotta' watch that mouth of yours, Sunshine."

"This ain't over, ya' raisin-lookin' bastard." Backhand snarled under her breath, pasting on a friendly smile for Duncan while Hancock wheezed with laughter. "Hey bud, how's things?" She greeted the child, who grimaced.

"Dad's kissin' Miss Cait again. S'gross." The little boy announced, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

"That does sound pretty gross." Hancock piped up before Backhand could reply. "But you like seein' your old man happy, right? The lady makes him happy. Simple as that."

"Yeah, I guess. Can I play with Shaun?" Duncan asked Vega, eyes wide as he seemed to take in the tree covered with lights.

"Go ahead, kiddo! Just be careful and stay away from Sturges' ladder." Elizabeth warned, grinning when the little boy took off with a whoop.

Cait and MacCready strode up after a moment, both of them red-faced. MacCready bent double, his hands on his knees. "I'm not built for these bullsh--awful conditions." He panted. "I don't know how the kid does it. He was nearly dead a few months ago and now he's out here kicking the snow in the a--er, butt."

Backhand glanced around, and then snorted. "You call this snow? It's a dusting. Back before-"

"Ah ah, easy now Mumsicle, we ain't got time for yer trip down memory lane." Cait teased. "Work to be done, aye? C'mon then, General, shape up. What you doin' on the ground anyway, all crouched like a mother hen broodin'?"

"I'm cooking." Vega replied tersely.

"Oh aye? Looks like yer shirkin' t' me, love. Codsy can manage that mess, c'mon." Cait seized her elbow, levering her up out of the snowy grass. "Now, what needs doin'?"

...

The day was a whirlwind of arrivals, preparations and well wishers. Elder Brandis even stopped by briefly, taking precious time away from his all-consuming duties to distribute some useful supplies and catch up on the gossip.

The Diamond City trio graced Sanctuary with their presence shortly before noon, Nat scurrying off to play with Duncan and Shaun while Piper made a beeline for Hancock's merry band. Nick was more keen to meander around the outskirts of the groups forming, amber eyes taking in his surroundings.

Preston appeared midafternoon with X6, Curie and the entire O'Brian clan in tow, later than expected but apparently they had stopped to help out a settlement along the way.

The cul-de-sac soon rang with the laughter of the rambunctious children; even little Siusan was permitted to briefly toddle about in the trampled snow under the watchful gaze of Eamon. The weather was chilly but the sun had broken through the clouds throughout the day, sending momentary waves of brilliance across the Commonwealth.

Every table and chair that could be salvaged had been assembled on the old foundation at the end of the cul-de-sac, and it was there that the adults began to gather as the sun set. Metal drums loaded with wood were lit, providing heat and illumination to the many guests of the Commonwealth's first official potluck dinner.

"Or rather," Piper amended, clearing her throat with a touch of self-importance as she tapped her notepad, "the first documented official potluck dinner."

The large tree twinkled and shone in the fast-approaching darkness, the occasional flicker or broken bulb doing little to diminish the cheer it provided. The food was distributed, Backhand's roast chicken disappearing without a hitch. The young woman couldn't help doing a mental dance of victory, delighted that Codsworth's quick thinking had saved that particular endeavor.

Vega found a place to sit somewhere in the middle of one of the many long tables, red from the praise of her companions and the persistent chill in the air. She got even redder when Preston loudly proclaimed a toast, to the General!, her lieutenant tipping his bottle and everyone else following suit.

"I remember when I first met the general, she was half-dead on her feet." Preston began the story, his smile fond. "Sturges couldn't even believe our luck. Hell, none of us could. When freedom called, our general answered!"

Backhand, who had lived the story and knew all the ins and outs, found her attention wandering to Danse while Preston regaled the crowd with his tale. The paladin seemed to be listening closely, his meal forgotten. Deacon even began to thieve bits of chicken and tato out from beneath his nose, the Railroad agent shooting Vega a sly wink over his sunglasses.

Backhand shook her head at the other man's antics, then focused her attention on Preston. "...'Lurk queen, a huge, mean seabug, taken out by landmines! The Castle was ours once again, and we all had General Vega to thank for it." The lieutenant stated firmly. "The one who can get things done in the Commonwealth, the one who gave folks hope when it was in mighty short supply. We uh, we owe you a lot, ma'am." He raised his bottle once more. "To General Vega, leader of the Minutemen!"

"To Elizabeth!" Hancock yelled, echoed by half the damn populace as Vega tried to wave it off, the young woman laughing awkwardly. "To our Sunshine, the hero of the Commonwealth!"

"Synth savior, a regular knight in shining armor." Deacon teased.

"Well done, General Vega." Danse said warmly, "I can't know for certain whether the Brotherhood itself would be proud, but I certainly am." His praise for whatever reason made Vega's blush feel like it would scorch her skin.

Oh she knew damn well why, she was just being willfully oblivious at this point.

"Speech! Speech! Is that not zee norm for zis sort of occasion?" Curie called, the diminutive synth currently sharing X6-88's coat as well as his plate of food. X6 didn't seem to have any reservations about the matter, his arm slung around her shoulders without a care in the world.

Much to Vega's chagrin, the majority appeared to be in favor of such a vocal endeavor. She attempted to laugh off the suggestion to no avail, and finally got to her feet. "Alright, alright, settle down. I'll say a few words if it'll get you all off my damn back." She grumbled, her body thoroughly warm now with a combination of embarrassment and gratitude. "I uh…"

Vega trailed off as she looked out over the ragtag gang of expectant faces staring back at her. So many friends and neighbors, finally getting the chance to breathe. The chance to celebrate the fruits of their labor...it was sobering.

"I can't thank you all enough for...well, for everything that you've done. You all sacrificed so much for this peace, stuff I could never imagine doing even before the bombs dropped." She cleared her throat. "My mentor, Sergeant Shaun Cathan, was a great man, and he often had some very succinct or choice words which I'm not about to repeat in polite company."

"Aw c'mon-!" Zeke began to protest loudly, his voice fading as he noticed the small gaggle of children still gawking at his power armor.

Backhand continued, her jaw set firmly, "but one thing I can say that he told me is this: a leader who permits their pride to impede their decisions is doomed to failure. Pride built the Institute, and that same pride rotted it to the core. Pride built the Brotherhood of Steel, the Minutemen, and we've seen the both of them nearly toppled." Vega clenched her fist. "Pride brought nuclear fire down on Boston, but people hauled themselves outta' the ashes of that fire. Good people, tough people. Folks I knew. Folks I cared for, even if some of 'em did spend a little too much time on the Cape. If pride can do so much effin' harm, I expect simple compassion and decency to do just as much good. Hell, more than that. Humanity's built itself back up after the cluster that was armageddon, and we ain't through yet."

She tipped the jar she had been drinking out of towards the crowd, sternly studying the collection of scavengers, families both new and familiar.

...

"So here's to you, my friends. To all that you've done, and to all that you will do."

Vega's salute was rigid, pre-war. Like her helmet on the table beside her, scraped and covered in faded sigils. The mixture of candlelight and the lights on the tree reflected off the worn lenses of her glasses, shielding her eyes from view. Danse wished desperately that he could see her eyes; more than anything he wished to stand up and flat-out state what she had done for him to every soul there, display his...admiration.

Was that even the right word? Admiration, adoration, affection--

His face was strangely warm all of a sudden. Danse flinched, staring down at his mug of coffee with single-minded intent as the buzz of conversation around him picked back up. His mind raced, pieces falling into place in a nigh-unstoppable rush.

Affection. Like...what he had felt for Cutler? Almost. A little to the left of that. Brighter.

Happier.

Not perfect, nothing could ever be perfect. But...

"Elizabeth Vega?" A male ghoul's voice barely penetrated the paladin's consciousness, his words not really registering until, "Beth, it really is you!" The ghoul exclaimed. "I thought I was crazy! It's me, Beth. It's Nate."

"...Nate?"

Danse's head whipped up so fast his neck popped in warning, the paladin having been only tangentially aware of the conversation happening mere feet away from his position. But at that particular nickname his entire being snapped to attention, eyes darting sidelong from where he had been intently studying his mug of coffee.

The ghoul man that Vega was currently speaking to was an inch or two taller than her, with a single tuft of dark hair that still remained over his left ear. He appeared absolutely delighted, but Vega seemed...wary.

"Beth," Danse heard him say once more, and he watched Backhand visibly tense. "I never thought I would see you again! After the bombs dropped--I mean how the hell did...is that Shaun? God, he got so big!"

"Nate, is there something I can do for you?"

Nate.

Danse's breath caught in his throat and his mouth went dry. Nate? Nate her ex-husband from before the war? Nate, the man who had divorced her once he found out she was pregnant with his child?

Somehow he had managed to survive?

Oh, what an incredibly bitter thing to think! Danse was somewhat startled by his own dark path of reasoning. But it wasn't untrue; his mind railed at the unfairness of it all.

The paladin stood up, his mug of coffee forgotten. He wasn't exactly certain what he was about to do, but he also wasn't going to do nothing. He cast around wildly for a plan as he approached Elizabeth from behind around the table, and Danse latched onto what was probably the least intelligent course of action that he could have conjured up.

"Elizabeth," the paladin called, loud enough to be heard over the general hubbub. She turned and Danse briefly spied a look of intense relief on her face before he enveloped her in his arms. "You appeared cold, figured I could warm you up a bit." He reasoned aloud, smiling benignly over her head at Nate. "Who's this?"

Vega began to introduce him even with her face still comically buried in Danse's chest, "Nate, I'd like you to meet-"

"Paladin Logan Danse, Northeastern chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel." Danse interrupted her smoothly, extending a hand to Nate. "I've heard a great deal about you, Nate. It's a privilege to meet you, and a welcome surprise to see that you endured the radiation."

"Uh, is it? Well I-I guess it is." Nate looked flummoxed and crestfallen all at once, glumly shaking Danse's hand. "I suppose you two are, er..."

"Vega is my partner, yes. For over a year now." Danse replied once the other man had trailed off, his tone saccharine-sweet. He heard Vega gasp against his chest. "She is a truly incredible woman. I'm immensely lucky."

"Yeah, I...yeah. Uh, I have to go...talk to--I'll see you later, Beth." Nate squeaked, sidestepping away from the two of them and making a beeline for the road.

"I can't even believe it." Backhand's voice grated with tangible irritation. "I cannot even fuckin' fathom--I...dammit, why him?!" She seethed into Danse's jacket, clenching her fists on his hips. "Phew, boy, I sort of thought I'd already dealt with all that resentment." The woman admitted unhappily.

"You do things in your own time." Danse replied quietly. "Are you alright?"

Vega went still for a second. Danse felt her unclench her fists, hands going slack on his body. Had he misspoken-?

"In my own time, huh?" Vega muttered, almost like she was thinking out loud. "I...I'll be back in a little while, Danse."

…

I'm not panicking. Definitely not panicking. One hundred percent not panicking, totally fine.

Backhand scurried away from the paladin, trying to hide the tell-tale redness of her face. She needed to find either Mrs. O'Brian or MacCready, fast.

As luck would have it, MacCready found her. The former merc tapped on her shoulder as she bounced up on her tiptoes to search for Mrs. O'Brian. "Hey boss, Shaun wanted me to ask you if he could sleep over with Duncan tonight." The man began after she whirled around to face him.

"Yes." Vega replied, perhaps a little too quick and definitely too enthusiastic. "Mac you're a lifesaver, I was just about to ask-"

"-for me and Cait to watch your kid so you and the tin can can get some alone time?" MacCready smirked, giving her a wink. "Dang General, I don't think I've ever seen you so red! Don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

"Shut up, Mac, you're so exasperating." Backhand jabbed a teasing finger into the center of his chest. "You talk, Mayor, and I'll know." The threat was toothless; the both of them grinned at each other after their fierce staring contest. "Thanks for everything."

"Don't mention it. I figure getting you some Brotherhood...uh, Steel, heh, is a pretty decent way to make up for the fact that I didn't bring you a present." Mac shrugged, fiddling with the bill of his hat. "I have beef with the Capital Brotherhood, but these guys...I mean, they don't seem all bad." He allowed grudgingly, giving Vega a gentle nudge with his shoulder. "Go on."

A bracing shot of whiskey shored up her tenuous spark of confidence and Vega marched back to Danse, the large man now engaged in conversation with X6 while Shaun, Duncan, Bridget, Nat and Matthew swirled around their ankles.

Danse was saying, "--collateral ramifications would be inadvisable, I suggest a soft breach. With adequate preparation-"

"Adequate preparation on your part borders on over-caution." X6 interrupted him dismissively. "However, I will take it into account and speak with Preston on the matter. He seems to share your morality. A pity."

"Play at the unfeeling machine all you want, X6." Danse retorted. "It does you no favors. You have people who care about you now, and you would not have asked for my input if you believed the endeavour would be futile."

"True enough, Paladin." The vaguest hint of a smile tugged at X6's mouth. "You are capable."

"I suppose that is the best that I can hope for."

"Hey, Danse? Can I uh, have a little chat?" Backhand asked, stifling a hysterical giggle when Danse immediately looked guilty. The paladin nodded, bidding X6 farewell and attempting to sidestep around the children who were currently playing tag in an ever-tightening circle. "Not um, here though. Let's go to my house, okay? Shaun, you're all set to stay overnight with Duncan, Mac and Cait, right?"

"Yeah!" Shaun replied breathlessly, pausing in his chase to give his mother a massive grin. "Already brought my blankets over and everything. Mister MacCready said Duncan and I could sleep in their wagon, and that he'd tell us Grognak stories!"

Danse's brow furrowed. "We are leaving the gathering, then?" He asked, looking a bit distressed when Elizabeth nodded. "A moment, please." He turned back to the children, calling for Shaun.

The boy bolted away from the group, skidding in the muddy slush. "Yeah, Mister Danse?" He asked, his impatience plain.

"I, er. I...happy holidays." The paladin mumbled, extracting a small bundle from his jacket pocket and giving it to the child.

"Whoa, for me?!" Shaun practically crowed, tearing through the old newspaper to reveal the gift.

It was a sturdy carved vehicle, its edges sleek and smooth. The wood was coated in shiny green paint, giving the little truck a distinct air of newness in this post-apocalyptic world. Danse swallowed audibly as Shaun stared down at the toy without saying a word.

Backhand closed her eyes, hoping and praying that the kid remembered his manners. She hadn't even known Danse had planned on giving him something. Did he make the truck himself? It was wood, not the usual plastic or aluminum of pre-war children's toys. When had he found the time to make a toy? She suddenly remembered his uncharacteristically wide yawn that morning and her eyes flew open, darting to look at Danse. He had been staying up, hadn't he?

"I love it, Mister Danse!" Shaun interrupted her mental panic with his enthusiastic eruption, smiling wide and bolting forward to hug Danse around the waist. Danse's own relief was evident, the large man patting the child on the back with an awkward chuckle.

Oh Jesus, I'm not going to cry, Vega insisted, taking a deep breath. Nope, won't do it.

"Mom look, look what Mister Danse gave me!" Shaun exclaimed, as if she hadn't been standing right there the whole time.

"It's really cool, right?" Backhand grinned, rumpling his hair and then giving him a kiss on the forehead. "Make sure you wash your face and brush your teeth before bed, okay? I hope you and Duncan have fun. I love you."

"I love you too, Mom, I will. Thank you again, Mister Danse!" Shaun rushed to say, clearly eager to return to his friends.

"Alright, go on." Vega tapped the end of his nose, "go have fun." She watched him scramble through the slush, nearly tripping again. "Jesus, he's a bull in a china shop," she sighed, making Danse snort. "Shall we, Paladin?"

He fell into step beside her, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket and his back ramrod straight. He was silent until they were actually in Elizabeth's living room, the young woman barely able to shut the front door before he started babbling, "if I offended you earlier, if I-I overstepped my bounds, I apologize. I just recalled what you had said about the name he used for you and I'm afraid I started moving before I could reconsider-"

"Danse, do you remember how we started all of this?" Vega cut off what promised to be a downright incredible justification, cocking her head to the side. "How we met, and what happened?"

"You came to our aid at the Cambridge police station. Then you carried on assisting me with our mission. You helped acquire the deep range transmitter. You greased my armor." Danse paused, fidgeting. "You...said it was alright if I wanted to kiss you."

“It’s alright if you want to kiss me, you know.” Her smile was gentle. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Vega nodded, smiling once more. "The offer still stands, naturally."

"I...things are different now. I'm different. You still...even now, after everything that you know about me?"

"Of course."

"I didn't want to believe you felt that strongly about our...about us." Danse was smiling, actually smiling! "I'd given up hope a long time ago that I would ever be enough for anyone. I was never...enough. Smart enough, or strong enough or...well, just enough, I suppose." He shrugged, his smile fading. "With what happened between Maxson and I, and previously with Cutler…" The large man trailed off.

Vega took a deep breath, nodding furiously. "I do feel strongly for you. Danse, I know that this is a lot, b-but I...uh, I think I love you." She gestured up and down at the speechless paladin, feeling the heat that bloomed fresh on her cheeks. "Not just the wrapping, y'know, but uh. The whole package. You."

His look of shock and confusion slowly dissolved into something unreadable, and he broke eye contact for a moment to stare down at his boots.

"Uh, it's okay if you don't reciprocate! O-Or even if you can't reciprocate, I'm not going to be offended!" Elizabeth rushed to add, waving her hands nervously. "I know that this is a lot to dump on you all at once, I-I'm sorry. I don't want you feeling pressured to give me an affirmative answer just because you don't want to hurt my feelings or whatever."

"I...I can't say that I haven't thought about it." He admitted softly. "But Shaun, he needs--Vega, I'm not really human."

"Neither is Shaun, but I don't love him any less." Elizabeth replied. "Shaun is my son. For all intents and purposes, he is my real son, Danse."

"It's one thing to overlook it for a child, Vega. But I'm...what if something goes wrong with me? What if there's some sort of fault in my programming, and that's why I'm like this? What if-"

"It's alright if you don't want me, or even if this is too much right now. I know, it's a lot." Vega interrupted him, her heart sinking but determined to make damn sure he didn't feel pressured.

"Christ, that's not what I meant. I just want to make certain you know exactly what it is that you're agreeing to." Danse cut her off, his shoulders rigid like he was bracing for impact.

"I understand, Danse. I've understood for a while now." Elizabeth dared to rest her hand on his arm. "I want to be with you. I know that nothing in this shitshow of a future is guaranteed and I want to have something good in my life before my inevitable demise at the hands of some overconfident mole rat."

Danse nodded stiffly, and then grabbed her by the lapels of her canvas coat. Vega found herself abruptly pinned against the wall, Danse's mouth hungrily seeking her own. "You mean that?" He panted.

The brush of the stubble on his face reminded her of their first kiss in the Cambridge station and drove home the differences between he and Nate for the hundredth time. Nate was always clean-shaven, favored pecks on the cheek and lived saturated with cologne. But Danse was grizzled, earnest, reeking of the outdoors and power armor grease. Nate had been eloquent, while Danse was taciturn or tripped over his words. Nate was cold and calculating, and Danse…

Danse was fiery and raw, more vulnerable now than she could ever recall him being before. His knee nudged against her thigh and without conscious input, Elizabeth parted her legs for it and threw her arms around his neck to try to urge him even closer. "Yes, Danse," she gasped. "Oh, Jesus, yes, fuck-ing shit--"

She ground herself down against his leg, relieved that everything seemed to be functioning normally and somewhat impressed by her body's ability to mount such a rapid response after a two hundred-plus year dry spell!

"Language," Danse rumbled in reply, his hands tugging her heavy coat off of her shoulders. "Too fast?"

"No, hell no!" Backhand protested, "not fast enough."

"Shh," Danse rested his hands on her hips, shoving up her shirt slightly so he could touch bare skin. "I have you, Vega." Vega pushed herself excitedly into his grip, grinding on his thigh and arching her back. The way his breath hitched sent shockwaves to her core; the way he watched her...

"Danse we should...we should-" Vega's voice wavered as Danse laved her throat with tender kisses. "-should--bedroom, bed."

"Yes." The paladin growled, making no move to actually follow the direction. That is, until he hoisted her up to rest on his hips.

Backhand yelped, her thighs gripping his sides tightly. "H-Hey!"

Danse pressed his forehead to her own, brown eyes attempting to read her soul. "Elizabeth…" he sighed, his expression gone hopelessly soft. "I should warn you, if we...if you do this, I...listen, I can be a little--a little wordy, sometimes. If I am speaking too much-"

"Hey, no, you talk as much as you'd like, okay? Doesn't bug me at all." Vega assured him, slightly curious about what this might mean. Wordy?

"Elizabeth, you are everything that I never knew I was looking for." Danse murmured. "When I lost Cutler, I didn't think I deserved to be happy again. I assumed that my failure would continue to darken any future triumph, and when the majority of Gladius was...I feared that I was unfit for my rank. How could anyone have faith in my skills after such a catastrophic loss of life?"

"It's hard being the one making the choices. You have to be able to bear the burden of responsibility and also the burden of guilt." Vega reasoned, sympathizing with his plight.

"You had faith in me, though. You didn't even know me, but you didn't judge me for my inadequacy and you allowed me some damn peace. I'm just sorry you had to go through that abuse at Maxson's whim for my sake." Danse cupped her hand in his own, pressing kisses to her scarred knuckles. "You've already done so much for me, Vega. Let me undo you?" He offered seriously, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Well, I uh, I-I can't say I've ever been propositioned quite like that!" Backhand stuttered, certain that her flush covered her entire body at this point.

His laughter, heard so rarely, washed over her like a tidal wave. "Forgive me."

"Only if you keep asking me to have sex like that." Vega shifted her hand in his grip, intertwining their fingers. "C'mon, bedroom."

"It's not just that." Danse tried to protest, shaking his head. "I care about you. About your wellbeing. I want to make you happy."

"You do. So happy. I'm so glad that you're here with me still." Vega turned in the doorway of her room when he set her down, seizing Danse by the collar of his worn t-shirt and tugging him into her arms. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Danse."

"You don't know how much it means to me to hear you say that."

"It's the truth, though!" She insisted.

Danse surged forward, his kisses still rough and demanding as he fought to claim her affection. But she gave it freely, all he could ever want and more.

He stripped her of her shirt and dragged his own off over his head, chuckling at the way she greedily drank in the bare skin he presented. "See something you like, General?"

He was hairier than she was used to, but Backhand decided it suited him. Nate, after all, had been absolutely adamant that body hair was grotesque, and now look at him. He'd likely never have to worry about that again.

Thinking of Nate yet again put a frown on her face and Danse paused, giving her a quizzical look. "Is something amiss?"

"Oh! No, I'm sorry. I was just remembering. Nate was all…" Elizabeth gestured vaguely at Danse's chest. "He shaved everything. I'm not used to all...well, seeing so much."

"Is it off-putting? I assure you it's within the Brotherhood's hygiene guidelines, but if you don't like it I-"

"No, I love it. It's new. I've seen your arms, after all, I knew what I was getting into." Vega teased, grinning to ease his worry. "If you can accept all my stretch marks and leftovers, I can definitely handle your chest pelt."

"I'm planning on doing far more than accepting." Danse cradled her breasts in his palms, the paladin lowering his head to draw his tongue over one of her nipples. "I don't care." He soothed when Elizabeth tried to stammer out something else in regard to her stretch marks. "I don't care. It doesn't make you any less desirable to me, Elizabeth."

Vega squeezed her eyes shut, kissing his forehead as he continued to cautiously rouse her peaks until they were stiff and aching for more. Then his thumbs took over, stroking in slow, firm circles that made her quiver from head to toe. "You...you're really good at that." Elizabeth said faintly.

"I'm pleased you think so." Danse grunted when her fingers found his belt buckle. "It has been a significant amount of time for me as well, I...my excitement may be a bit obvious." He admitted, his smile sheepish.

Vega's breath caught in her throat, her hands trembling as she struggled to draw down the worn zipper of his jeans. The underside of his cock throbbed against her palm when she dared to slip her hand into his briefs, his skin searing and smooth.

Danse huffed out a breath, crumpling a little at her tentative touch. "Elizabeth," he groaned, hiding his face in her neck as he rolled his hips eagerly into her hand.

"Keep saying my name like that." She ordered, laughing when the paladin nodded rapidly into her shoulder. "I love you, Danse."

...

Danse rumbled again, words failing him while Elizabeth's fingers wrapped around his cock. This seemed like a dream, another one of his fantasies brought into being. He couldn't seem to do anything aside from stare down at her hand.

"Hey, Danse?"

He jerked to attention, eyes flying up to meet her own guiltily. "Y-Yes, Vega?" He stuttered.

"Do you...uh, y'know." Backhand fumbled to undo the button on her jeans. "You can, if you'd like." She finished awkwardly.

No sooner had she given him permission than Danse was pulling her hand out of his pants, urging her backwards onto her bed even as he kissed her battered knuckles again. "Yes." He grated out, kneeling to untie her boots so he could get her pants off. "Yes, yes, a thousand times yes."

"A for enthusiasm, big guy." Elizabeth teased, lazily fingercombing his short hair back. Her veneer of composure was shattered when the paladin eased her underwear down her legs, the young woman covering her face as if she was embarrassed. "Listen, just uh, go easy on me. It's been over two hundred years, after all." She reasoned weakly.

Danse swallowed hard. Cutler had always praised his dirty talk, the calculated way he could take apart a person with his words and touch alone. Maxson hadn't appreciated his speech, granted, but perhaps…

"You're saying you don't want me to bury my fingers in you, Elizabeth? You don't want me to open you up, work my way into that beautiful, flushed little cunt of yours?" Danse rasped, two fingers tracing lightly on her pubic mound. Her cesarean scar was faintly visible, and he felt a brief flare of concern before recalling that was indeed where the scar was from.

"Oh, Jesus. Okay." Vega gasped, blue eyes wide in what Danse could only assume was shock. "Keep that up and you won't have to worry about using anything else. Fuck, Danse, have some pity here." She pleaded, burying her hands in her hair.

"Language. Do you deserve my pity? How would you earn it?" The paladin queried, the heel of his hand applying steady pressure to her mound now.

"I can be good, Paladin! I can be really good. So good." Her breathless use of his title had Danse's cock pounding, though he tried not to make it obvious. "Please Danse, please touch me…"

Danse climbed up onto the bed alongside her, gently parting her labia with his fingers. "You'll be good for me, Elizabeth?" He asked, propping himself up with an elbow.

"Yes, please."

She had wonderful manners. Danse grazed her clit and her breath stuttered, the paladin spreading the liberal lubrication that she had already created with deft, slow strokes of his index. "Please, what?"

"P-Please...Danse."

He cautiously eased one finger into her, exhaling raggedly when her hand sought out his cock. "Vega-"

"Shh, let me." Elizabeth hushed him, her smile a little dreamy as Danse crooked his finger and rubbed in just the right spot. "Oh, f-uck, Paladin, you--"

"Language, Vega. Can't have you being a bad example while I'm knuckle deep in your cunt." Danse admonished, groaning when she whimpered. "You're so tight, this could take ages. We'll need to come up with some stretches to cope with this." He teased gruffly, sliding in another finger and spreading her open. "Mm, Elizabeth, you need to relax. Relax." He murmured, latching onto her breast.

He felt her pussy clench down around his fingers and he took a greedy suckle from her breast, making Vega cry out his name, "Danse!" She twitched and writhed under his deft attack, her thighs quivering even as she tried to spread them wider for him. Her hand fell still on his cock, not that Danse minded. It had always been more about his partner, he couldn't care less if nothing was done for him. Watching someone else fall apart because of him...now that was its own reward.

"What do I need to do to get you there, hmm?" Danse taunted playfully, tonguing sloppily over the peak of her breast. "What will it take, Elizabeth?"

She arched her back in response, pressing her breast firmly against his mouth, and Danse gently nibbled on the sensitive area she had offered up. Elizabeth sobbed out, shoving one hand down to her cunt to spread herself even wider for his plundering fingers. "More, Danse! Please please please-" she begged, her moan when he pressed a third finger into her absolutely enough to have Danse hurrying to talk himself down. "Yes, Danse." She was practically growling, her arousal something primal and untamed.

If Danse had his way, it would stay like that forever.

"What is it that you want, Vega?" His inquiry was almost lazy, three fingers stroking in and out with much less resistance now. "Hmm, I wonder if you're wet enough to take me."

"You can't just-" Vega made a noise of dismay. "That's not fair, Danse, that's not fair, you know it's not. Please, please fuck me."

Jesus. Danse almost choked on his own breath, letting his fingers slip out of her cunt. "How do you want me?" His voice broke noticeably. It felt like a lifetime since he had been desired, wanted in such a blatant and strangely pure fashion. She loved him. She wanted him inside her. Wanted him to make love to her. Wanted him.

The speed at which she flung herself up a little higher on the bed made Danse want to laugh, but then she was arching her back and looking over her shoulder at him and he suddenly forgot how to breathe for a moment. "This okay?" She panted, brown hair all tumbled around her face as she took off her glasses and pitched them in the general direction of her bedside table.

Danse nodded hurriedly, kicking his pants off. "If you need me to stop, just grab my hand." He instructed.

"This isn't exactly my first time getting fucked, Danse-"

"Language," the paladin reprimanded her with a chuckle, greedily fondling her rear as he mounted up behind her. "You have such a beautiful form, Vega." He murmured, leaning over to press a kiss between her shoulder blades. "An absolute vision."

"I do have nice tits."

Danse rolled his eyes, slipping his hands down to grope said breasts. She gasped out, rocking back against him as he agreed, "yes you do, that can't be denied. Soft, the perfect size, they fit in my hands so well, and so sensitive." He found himself laughing when she whimpered again. "Don't offer up all your weak spots unless you want them taken advantage of, Vega."

"The only thing I want to take advantage of right now is the raging hard-on I can feel." Elizabeth wriggled and Danse grunted, shuddering. "Pl-ease Danse, please put it in me."

The paladin slipped his cock between her labia, the hot, slick flesh pressing against him mercilessly as he teased her. He suddenly felt her fingers on his cock and then-

"Fuck." The paladin grated out the uncharacteristic curse through his teeth, his fists meeting the bedding on either side of her body as he fought the urge to thrust himself home in one breath.

Elizabeth half-collapsed while he slowly, slowly rutted into her, the woman panting and clawing at the blankets. "Mmmgod, Danse-" she slurred, sighing loudly. "So good, fuck, Danse…"

Danse toyed with her nipples, stupidly snarling "language," as she keened in reply. "I'll take care of you, Elizabeth. Be good for me." He pressed a kiss to her temple, smirking at the way her body quaked when he finally bottomed out in her. "That's it, look at you, taking all of me so well," he praised. "Now, how can I make you come?"

"Fu--Please use your big cock to get me off, oh please Danse!" She begged and Danse fondled her breasts yet again.

"You don't want me to touch you here, just like this?" He asked, stroking over her nipples and lingering to tease the area. "They're so hard, though, begging for my attention."

Backhand made a noise of despair, burying her face in her pillow.

"I think you need me to play with them, don't you? You like when I touch them like this." Danse muttered, thinking out loud and coming to that realization even as the words left his mouth. "What is it about it that you like?"

"S-Sensitive." Vega whimpered, "feels good."

Danse rumbled again, bending over to press his chest to her back so he could whisper in her ear, "does it feel good when I'm inside you, Elizabeth? Can you feel how hard I am for you? Feel how badly I need you?"

Elizabeth gifted him this pitiful sound, canting her hips and clenching down around his cock so tightly it took Danse's breath away. "Yes, I love it. I need you too, Danse." She murmured, shifting back and forth ever so slightly.

"Good. I'm glad." Danse took hold of her hips, seating his cock as deeply as he could in her cunt. Elizabeth whined, burying her face in her pillow again as he slowly began to make love to her.

Paladin Logan Danse, pride of the Brotherhood of Steel, had never been a man who took sex lightly. It was too important. Even after everything that had happened with Maxson, Danse still held to that belief. The display of vulnerability, the offer of power in exchange for pleasurable release, the brief moments of tenderness in an existence that was soul-crushingly difficult…

It was serious. It always was.

Vega's arms gave out and she slumped onto the bed, but Danse followed her down. Covering her with his body, the paladin thrust into her again and again, her soft whimpers and cries of his name music to his ears. "What do you need, sweetheart?" He asked raggedly when she began to squirm and arch back against him. "What can I give you, Elizabeth?"

"Fuck me, Danse!" She pleaded, turning her head to the side so she could see him.

"Language," Danse smiled, kissing her temple again. "But understood, ma'am."

…

For the first time since she'd awoken to an irradiated hellscape, Vega was wholly content to just lay down and be taken care of.

Danse was huge, proportionate to his already overgrown size, and he made the most incredible sounds when she inadvertently squeezed down on him. Groans burring in his chest like some untamed animal; he seemed content to just slowly fuck her into oblivion. Which was honestly more than she thought she would ever get.

Her fantasies, much as she'd believed they were wrong or silly at the time, didn't hold a candle to the reality of having Danse on top of her. She had gotten off more than once to this exact idea, being dominated and pinned by the massive paladin. This was a dream come true.

Elizabeth whined when he bottomed out in her again and just rutted himself back and forth slightly, making her feel every inch of his cock. The underside of his dick throbbed against the spot that made her see stars and then, the bastard, he slid his cock out of her cunt to press the head to her clit for a second. "Turn over for me?" He requested, punctuated by a gentle smack to her ass.

Vega rushed to obey, eager to have him back inside her as quickly as possible. The woman spread her legs wide so Danse could settle in between them and when the paladin did, he shifted upwards to kiss her tenderly.

"I've wanted this for so long." He admitted quietly.

"So have I!" Elizabeth replied in delight, her grin beaming. She was sure she looked like a mess, her hair stuck to her forehead with sweat and her face all flushed. But the way Danse was smiling at her…

She found she didn't really care about her appearance at this point in time.

"I love you." Danse murmured as he slid back inside her.

"I l-love you, Danse." Vega stuttered, the natural curvature of his cock applying steady pressure to her g-spot. "Make me feel so good, fuck."

"Language." He growled, making her laugh and then moan.

"Feels too good, brain can't cope." She gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck and tugging him closer until all he could do was grind down into her in a merciless manner. The motion flung her towards her peak, disconnecting her mouth even further from her brain and making her ramble into his ear, "God, I love you so much, make me feel so good--"

"I love you too, Elizabeth." He panted into the hollow of her throat, "you feel incredible. Outstanding."

Elizabeth wasn't sure how she could feel both so aroused she thought she might die and so annoyed that she wanted to explode. "Danse, did you just call my pussy outstanding?"

"It's not an incorrect statement, from my perspective. It's perfect. Wet and tight and hot." The paladin praised her freely, a hand lowering to apply gentle pressure over the scar on her lower stomach. "Beautiful."

I am not going to cry, Vega told herself sternly as she hid her face in Danse's neck. Definitely not going to cry, not going to.

A sob somehow escaped her as she came and Danse froze, his whole body flinching when her cunt clenched down on his dick. "V...Vega?" He asked tentatively.

"I'm fine! I'm fine, I promise, m'not hurt or anything. My brain is just dumb." Elizabeth hiccupped, rubbing her eyes. "I'm okay, Danse, I'm fine."

The paladin seemed uncertain and she couldn't blame him, she didn't seem fine even if she felt a thousand times better than she had in literal months.

"I swear I'm okay, that was just...it was really intense, y'know?" She mumbled awkwardly, unable to make eye contact anymore.

She felt Danse shift his weight and then he settled down on top of her, holding her close and tight. "You're sure?" He murmured, "if you're overwhelmed, that's entirely acceptable. I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"No, shit no, you feel incredible. I'm not going to be able to walk after this." Vega huffed, giggling a little when he rolled his eyes. "Keep going, okay? It feels fantastic."

"If you're certain." Danse acquiesced, kissing a hot trail down her neck when she nodded. "Let me know if you need me to stop."

Watching his forearms cord with muscle as he propped himself back up again, Vega's mouth went dry. "I have to say, this might be the best night of my life."

Danse pressed a sweet kiss to her forehead, the tenderness of the action a wonderful contrast to the needy way he sheathed his cock in her body once more. "I've thought about this." He confessed again, punctuated by a roll of his hips. "What you'd sound like, look like beneath me. You put my imagination to shame."

"What did I do in your dreams?" Backhand asked, unable to keep from breathlessly laughing when Danse hid his face in her neck. "So shy, Paladin! Even with that huge cock in me?"

"It's lewd, Elizabeth, I-I'm not proud of it." He mumbled. "Shouldn't have thought of you that way." He spread her legs wider, one hand on the back of each knee to urge her to bend.

"Mm, you thought about fucking me? Nice to know I'm not the only one with dirty thoughts."

"I did not." He protested staunchly. His cock slid back and forth between her pussy lips in a purposeful teasing motion. "I thought about how...I thought about how good it would feel to make love to you." He continued, his voice wavering slightly as his dick brushed her entrance and he plunged deep yet again. "Thought about how good I could make you feel."

Now it was Vega's turn to be shy, the woman looking away from him and flushing.

"It was still inappropriate at the...time, but I assure you it was never about that. I am not-" Danse struggled for a moment to find the words, before he sighed and rested his forehead against her own. "This already isn't simple, and I know I make it miles less so. Forgive me."

"I feel like it's pretty simple." Vega gasped, twitching as his fingers landed on her clit. "I f--fuck, Danse--I feel like it's real simple. You like me. Love me, yeah?"

"It's more than that, dammit." Danse growled, rubbing her clit in merciless circles. "What you did for me...how can I ever be worth your affection? Hell, your time?"

Elizabeth threw her head back, arching her entire body up into his chest. "Whatever good I give to you," she moaned, almost exasperated that they were even having this discussion, "you deserve it. Take it."

Danse's hands latched down on her hips, thumbs stroking back and forth over her pronounced stretch marks as he fucked into her so fiercely that Vega swore she saw stars. His pelvis ground against her own, body hair providing a delicious new sensation that had Vega grasping at the blankets in an effort to keep herself grounded. "I'm going to come, Elizabeth." Danse panted. "Where do you-"

"Inside." Backhand implored him, "come inside me, Paladin, please come inside me-" Her voice broke as she begged and Danse groaned loud, the sound incredulous.

"You...inside? Are you sure?" He asked through gritted teeth, dark brown eyes conveying his uncertainty. In reply, Vega dug the heels of her feet in beneath his rear, effectively locking him in place.

She caught a handful of his hair, gently tugging it until he leaned down again so she could seethe in his ear, "yes."

"Oh, dammit." With that wonderfully characteristic swear, Danse shoved his mouth against hers gracelessly. The heat in her belly spilled over from the onslaught of his enthusiastic thrusts and Backhand cried out, fingernails digging into his back when she came a second time.

Danse, either spurred on by her sounds or by the way her pussy gripped his dick (maybe a combination? Backhand mused) found his release seconds after, his voice breaking and dropping into a lower tone as he moaned her name. Her real name.

Elizabeth.

Vega cupped the nape of his neck, guiding his face into the hollow of her shoulder. "Lay down, sweetheart, you're shaking." She murmured, stroking over his quivering back.

"Don't want to flatten you." Danse rasped, his dick still throbbing inside her.

"Lay down. It's okay." Elizabeth flexed her bicep. "I'm strong, I can handle it." Danse laughed wearily, almost immediately going limp on top of her. She wrapped her arms back around him, fingers digging into the knots that she found to ease out the tension. "There, isn't that better?"

"Mmmmuch." Danse slurred into her neck, sounding exhausted. "Love you."

"I love you. Sleep, okay? We'll get cleaned up later. Right now though you seem like you could use a nap."

Danse nodded, the tangled mess of his hair mashed flat against her cheek in the process. "Want...to be a good parent." He mumbled several minutes later, just as Vega had thought he was dozing off. Danse propped himself up with one arm, cradling Vega's cheek in his palm. His thumb absently traced the cryo burn marks from the stasis as he continued, "a true partner for you. I don't know if you...if you even want me in that capacity, I--I don't know whether you would prefer that Shaun thinks of me as simply your friend, but I-"

"Danse," Elizabeth interrupted him sternly, raising an eyebrow. "Someone who's simply a friend wouldn't be balls deep in me."

Danse sputtered, his blush spreading down his neck to his chest. Despite his proclivity for dirty talk in the moment, he was endearingly embarrassed by her blunt words. Vega felt her heart pound as he floundered to collect himself, the large man looking away.

He's really nothing at all like Nate.

"Danse." Her voice was gentler this time, unmistakable affection bleeding through. "I would have to ask Shaun, of course, and I'd like to have an adjustment period before I do so that he can get comfortable with the idea on his own, but…" The young woman swallowed hard. Why was she so nervous all of a sudden? Oh sure, she could handle the vulnerability of being naked and fucked with absolute abandon but this? This was where her brain drew the line? Unbelievable, Backhand grumbled at herself. "I think the odds are in your favor." She concluded with a grin.

"You...even though I'm not-?"

"He's probably the last person to care about that kinda' stuff, Danse. C'mon." Vega chided, running her fingers through his sweaty hair. "Now. We are...absolutely disgusting. We need a bath big time."

"I...you're right, of course." Danse agreed absently, still seeming shocked at the whole scenario. "I should...w-we should bathe. Er, at the same time. To save water." He didn't meet her eyes, his attention focused somewhere by her left shoulder.

Elizabeth laughed, bumping their foreheads together before carefully scooting up the bed. His cock slipped out of her and she couldn't help her sigh, the noise echoed by the paladin who tilted his chin to catch her with a kiss.

"You are amazing." He breathed when they parted, his smile small but sincere. "I'm...I'll be hard-pressed to keep my hands off you, Elizabeth."

"Why bother?" Vega asked, chuckling as he ducked back in for another kiss.

...

Hours later, Danse laid awake while Elizabeth slept peacefully on his chest. The paladin stared up at the ceiling, his mind running rampant.

The future.

He hadn't really dared to think about it since discovering his true identity. Hadn't felt like it was something he deserved. After all, if he was just a machine, it hardly mattered. But Elizabeth…

She thought it mattered. She wanted him. Wanted him to stay with her. Wanted him to act as a father. Pending Shaun's approval, of course.

It was surreal how much his life had changed, how far they had come in such a short amount of time. Danse was a little overwhelmed by it all, if he was being honest. Scared, yet hopeful at the same time. And, he thought as he wrapped his arm around Elizabeth, incredibly, immensely grateful.

This new world was unforgiving, the universe coldly testing the mettle of a man time and again. But Danse had finally come out the other side, and he liked to think he had changed for the better.

Whatever the future held, they would face it together.

Ad Victoriam, General Vega. Thank you for having faith in me.

#fallout 4 #fallout four #paladin danse #paladin danse x sole survivor #paladin danse/sole survivor #paladin danse imagine #fallout fandom #fallout fanfic #slow burn #Eventual romance #The Happy Ending #that's right #paladin danse x f!sole #fo4 companions imagine #fo4 companions #epilogue #the gang's all here

80 notes · View notes

rainiedeforest · 4 years

Note

Chengqing Soldier/nurse(doctor) AU

This was... super funny to write, cause it’s one of my favourite ship of the drama/book/and so. And much longer that what I thought but... Nevermind. Thank you for the ask~ I hope you like it.

“The war is over! The war is over!” Shouted a man entering at the camp. It wasn't long before he was surrounded by a group of men, all of them waiting for what the radio would say.

A male voice began to relate the latest advances and the meetings that would take place to sign the treaties that would end one of the most bloody and deadly events in the history of humanity.

Wei Ying rushed over to Jiang Cheng, the young man lying on the cot with his hand on his abdomen.

“Jiang Cheng! It's over! It's over! We can come back home!” He yelled excitedly. His face was cut from glass from an explosion, but that didn't seem to matter to him. On the contrary, he was seen as the same happy and carefree boy he was before the war. However, his entire face darkened when he realized that something was wrong with whom he considered his brother. “What happens?”

“Nothing...” he said, trying not to show the wounds, but Wei Ying was much faster and pulled the covers that covered him. He hissed when he felt a hand close to the wound, and his eyes locked on the other man's. “So it’s over? Will we go home with A-Jie?”

“Yes... We'll be back... But first you should go and have that wound looked at,” he replied worriedly, kneeling next to the cot and looking at him worriedly. “Since when do you have it?”

“Wei Ying, I'm fine.”

“No, you are not. Come on,” he said, turning around so he could climb onto his back. “Let's go so someone can see it.” Jiang Cheng went to complain, but was soon cut off. “Don't say anything and get on! I promised your parents that I would protect you. And we'll both go home together.”

Jiang Cheng would have complained, insulted him, hit him if he felt better. Not because he didn't appreciate his attempts to care for him, but because he didn't know how to thank him except in such a sullen and brusque way. He was just like his mother, he had the same communication skills... And his father... Well, he wasn’t a marvel by showing that he loved others. With such genetic and examples, how did you expect him to achieve it?

So, swallowing all his pride, he climbed onto his brother's back and let him take him to the field hospital near the camp. They had taken over the mansion of an executed Japanese businessman and used its land and building to be able to treat the wounded in a much more hygienic way than in the middle of the field.

Wei Ying walked in with Jiang Cheng on his back, and soon a nurse appeared, helping him lay him out on one of the few free beds.

“I'll call the doctor right away.”

“Hurry up!” Wei Ying yelled at her when he saw the woman disappear through some wooden and glass doors.

“Wei Ying, stop scaring everyone. I'm not going to die.”

A surprised groan escaped his lips when he heard him, pinching his arm.

“Of course you are not going to die. If you do, I'll go after you to bring you back.”

A smile crossed the lips of Jiang Cheng, who continued to clutch at the wound. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if he had resigned himself to it all. Soon the clatter of shoes echoed across the floor and a figure positioned itself by the bed.

“What happened?”

Jiang Cheng widened his eyes upon hearing that soft yet strict voice and laid it on the figure, who was looking at him with a frown. It was a girl, a young woman dressed in a white coat and a stethoscope around her neck.

“We're waiting for the doctor,” Jiang Cheng said, even though he wouldn't care if the woman was with him until he came. This seemed to amuse and offend her in equal measure, as she quickly pushed Wei Ying off the bed and began to strip Jiang Cheng from the waist up. “W-w-what are you doing?! Let go!”

“How do you want me to see what happens to you if you don't let me see the wound?” The woman asked curtly, causing Wei Ying to laugh.

“Are you the doctor?”

“No, the clown,” she growled before pointing a finger at him. “Are you going to help me undress him so I can treat whatever he has or are we going to continue to comment the obvious?”

He didn't need to be told twice. Wei Ying began to undress him and put his uniform shirt on the bedside table, moving further away so that the young woman could occupy herself. The doctor leaned slightly and looked at the wound, touching the nearby area and clicking her tongue.

“Since when?”

“Since when what?” Jiang Cheng asked rudely, feeling extremely uncomfortable that it was precisely a woman who was taking care of him.

“The wound. Since when do you have it?” Anybody could tell she was trying very hard not to hang him right now. And it was exasperating. The room was full of wounded soldiers and that he was making her job difficult...

“Two days. There was an explosion due to a bomb and the shock wave caught me. Happy?”

She looked at him in surprise, her mouth widening in disbelief.

“Did you really just ask me if I'm glad you got caught in a shock wave from a bomb?” His words had hurt her and he knew it. The young doctor took a deep breath and began to give orders to one of the nurses, who soon returned to her side with everything she had asked for.

She cleaned the wound and removed the small pieces of shrapnel from the bomb, starting with the suture before covering it with bandages. Afterward, she administered a pain reliever and left, refusing to speak to him.

“Don't get out of bed. You have to rest.”

“Hey!”

The woman left and Wei Ying stayed with him until a nurse asked him to leave. Jiang Cheng stayed in that hospital all alone, listening to the complaints and breathing of the rest of the patients. The nurses moved from one side to the other, although with less bustle than before, at least, until the whole room was silent.

He was dozing every few minutes, not tired enough to fall asleep, but not active or entertained enough to stay conscious.

Every now and then he would see the doctor pass by, working late into the night. Then he watched her do her rounds before going, he supposed, to rest. Jiang Cheng knew that he had misbehaved, had not answered her in the best way, and had underestimated her just for being a woman. Big mistake. His mother would have ripped his head off if she had found out. She would rip it off if she found out, because despite the teachings and widespread thinking of the society, his mother had never educated him to think that way.

And he didn't think that about her beloved sister Yanli. His A-jie was the strongest, hard-working woman he had ever met. Putting her in the same group would be unfair.

The next morning, Wei Ying was there on time like clockwork, smiling broadly at him.

“How did you spend the night?”

“Bored. I've barely slept,” he answered dryly, thanking him for helping with the pillows.

“Why didn't you ask the pretty doctor to give you another pain reliever?” Jiang Cheng looked at him bored. “Not even the nurses?”

“Wei Ying...”

“Okay, okay... Listen. I have to go to town to present some reports that have been requested from our unit. I'll be away for a few days. Do you think you will be able to stay alive during the time I’m away?”

Jiang Cheng snorted, crossing his arms, but nodding. He wouldn’t hold him longer than necessary, especially if the higher command had demanded that he submit those reports, even if he knew he would take longer than expected. They said their goodbyes as warmly as possible both of them could, and Jiang Cheng was alone again.

However, as the hours passed, he got worse and worse. His head was spinning, he was horribly hot, and his eyes were closing tightly. He'd started to sweat as if he'd been doing the most demanding of exercises, and before he knew it, he'd lost consciousness.

By the time he woke up, Jiang Cheng's entire body felt heavy and sore. His eyelids weighed horrors, as if they were made of metal. Apparently the clarity of the day was evident wherever he was. Wearily and heavily, he opened them to find himself in a completely white room, with several beds, some of them already empty.

Jiang Cheng tried to get up. A lash of pain jolted him and made him stay still, as did a not-pretty curse from his mouth. He could hear the chirping of a bird, and the tranquility of some conversations. He licked his lips. They were like two scouring pads. They were split and dry like his mouth. The door opened, letting in a woman in a white coat as if he were a heavenly angel.

“He's awakened,” the woman said softly, coming to his side and leaning in beside him. “How long have you been awake?” The voice was familiar. He had already heard it. Oh sure, the doctor.

“What happened?” He asked, looking around the room and fixing it on the doctor's face. Now that he could, he paid attention to her a little more. Petite, with a soft face and dark hair in a loose bun, as if she had done it quickly. “My whole body hurts.” The woman just looked at him silently before letting out a small laugh.

“It’s normal. Your fever rose as soon as the young man who brought you here left. We have managed to control the temperature, but we have to check what has caused it,” she replied, helping him to sit up slightly. She put her hands back on his shirt, this time his pajamas, and began to undo the buttons. Jiang Cheng looked horrified. He wasn't used to being undressed by any woman.

“W-what are you doing?!” He asked again and seemed to have returned to the first day in the hospital. Jiang Cheng's eyes were wide with surprise and disbelief; He had even stuttered and his voice had come out in a torrent of highs and lows, just like when his voice began to change. The woman seemed to find it amusing, as she put a hand to her lips, trying to hide her smile.

“I have to treat and check the wound,” she answered calmly, as if she had already had to endure something similar, and, after struggling with the young man, she stripped him of his shirt and pointed to some bandages, which covered his abdomen. She worked in silence for several minutes. The wound was necrotic, but the surrounding skin was beginning to take on a slight pinkish hue that indicated proper recovery. The high fever must have been due to the action of the body to try to heal him naturally. She changed the bandage and put the shirt back on, much to the embarrassment of Jiang Cheng, who felt like a little boy. “It’s done. You better rest.”

“Jiang Cheng,” he replied quickly when he saw her try to leave. “My name is Jiang Cheng,” he replied. The woman simply nodded and, bowing her head slightly, said goodbye. “W-wait! What is your name?” He asked before watching her disappear through the door. “I want to be able to thank you.”

“I don't need your thanks, Mr. Jiang, because it's my job. Although… I accept them, ” she said before leaving without saying her name.

The recovery was considerably faster than Jiang Cheng expected at first. In a few days, the wound hardly hurt, and in a few more days, he was able to go outside for walks in the gardens to get some fresh air.

He saw the doctor, whose name he still didn’t know, working on several occasions. She always worked. There were only a few times when he didn't see her working, but she was in the company of a tall young man with a boyish, sweet face. It was on those occasions that she laughed. Carefree, relaxed, happy. It was like a breath of fresh air. And, to his surprise, always, always, the doctor had some kind word for him, even if he had behaved like an idiot.

One of the mornings in which she went again to check how his injury was -one of the last, since one of his superiors wanted to send him back to the front and had told him so by letter- he steeled himself and asked him for a date. Well, he tried, because what came out of his lips was a pretty pathetic, babbling, and hardly meaningless attempt.

He didn’t know her name and he also knew that he had been the worst with her, so no affirmative answer was expected. However, the young woman looked at him, brushing her hair from the bangs that had fallen over her eyes, and accepted. And Jiang Cheng couldn't have been happier.

“I hope it's not until very late; I must work tomorrow and you, rest.”

“I promise it won't be. But…” The woman looked at him silently, waiting for him to continue. “You still haven't told me your name.”

“Wen Qing,” she replied before leaving. “Be punctual.”

He didn’t know how he did it, but he managed to be prepared as best he could and wait with a bouquet of poppies that he had taken in a field near the hospital. It didn't take long for Wen Qing to come out, gazing at the poppy bouquet with a raised eyebrow.

“I thought you would like them,” Jiang Cheng said.

“Uh... If I didn't know about the poppies applications, I'd think you're trying to poison me.”

Jiang Cheng looked at the small bouquet in confusion, not quite sure what she was referring to, until the girl smiled and took it from his hands.

“Come on, let's go before sunset.”

They walked through the town, enjoying the environment they were in as best they could. It was difficult to concentrate when there was still a lot to be resolved from the war. They both sat on a nearby bench and watched the soft orange rays tint the mountains. He didn't quite know how, but he took her hand and squeezed it silently. She didn’t make any sudden movement that would suggest that she disliked him.

“Wen Qing,” he began. He had to tell her now. He couldn't deny that he felt a certain attraction to the pretty doctor who had been taking care of him all this time. “I have to tell you something.”

“What is it?” She asked, turning her head and piercing him with those two big, expressive eyes that seemed to read his soul. Jiang Cheng felt naked. He didn't dare tell her.

“They'll send me to the front again tomorrow,” he snapped. The light that shone in the woman's eyes disappeared as soon as it had arrived. Wen Qing simply nodded. “And... I don't know if we'll see each other again...”

“I thought the war was over,” she answered quietly, trying to stay professional at all times.

“Apparently, there are still some militarized areas that have to...”

Wen Qing stopped him and nodded.

“I get it. It is your duty after all.”

He didn't expect those words, but Jiang Cheng didn't know what to say to him. He had cowed again. Wen Qing remained silent for a bit longer until he felt her squeeze his hands back. He hadn't let go of her hand.

When it was time to part when they got to the hospital, where that boy with boyish face was already waiting for her, Wen Qing walked him inside to bed. But, before she could leave, he called her.

“Miss Wen,” Those two expressive eyes looked up at him before waiting for an answer. Jiang Cheng reached inside his pocket and took out a small handkerchief with a delicately carved and lacquered wooden comb. He handed it to her. “Don’t forget about me.”

The woman watched him silently before taking both.

“I won’t.”

Jiang Cheng returned home after a long and tortuous months. He was one of those many survivors who still didn’t understand why, being less capable than others, were still alive. Perhaps it was due to the chance factor of luck or it was some design of the gods.

Jiang Cheng was greeted with great joy and humor by his family. Along with Wei Ying, they were the only men who had returned. His father had passed away years before at the front, may the gods take care of him. His sister had enlisted as a nurse and had recently gotten married. Even his mother, who had been most affected by the whole matter of the war since and looked tired and emotionally devastated, gave him a small smile, even when he informed everyone of the decision to move from a city to the north.

He continued to write letters to his entire family, especially to his older sister. In the letter he was reading at the time, she informed him of her pregnancy and of Wei Ying's progress in a small music school where he worked with an officer he kept persecuting. In her letter, at the end, as in all the others, she asked him to take care of himself and to visit her more often, that she missed him a lot and that she was very proud of him.

Chest puffed out with pride, Jiang Cheng folded the letter and laid it resting on the table, next to the steaming cup of coffee. He leaned against the white metal chair in the café, western-inspired coffee like everything at the time, and dropped his lids open when he heard a laught. Expressive eyes watched him from the opposite chair.

“Did I keep you waiting long, Mr. Jiang?”

“It's worth the wait, Mrs. Jiang,” he replied with a small smile when he looked at the comb decorating the woman's bow.

He always thought that the war had been a mistake, and that paying attention to Wei Ying about going to the hospital was crazy, but he had to say -something that he would never recognize his brother- that that decision had only had one good thing; it had brought Wen Qing into his life.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #chengqing #jiang cheng #jiang wanyin #wen qing #my writting #ask #pru-sama

16 notes · View notes

wlw-imagines-blog · 5 years

Text

Abandonment, Enthroned. {Part 3} (Fem!reader x Wanda Maximoff)

Part 1, Part 2

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!reader

Warnings: None for this part

Tags: apocalypse au, enemies to friends to lovers, no powers au,

Word count: 2.6K

Summary: “All the leaves are brown, and the sky is grey. I’ve been on a walk, on a winter’s day” - John Philips

After checking on Goat, you surveyed the apple orchard. You gathered two whole baskets of red and green apples, picking more off the garden floor than from the branches. Maybe if you went into town next week, you could find enough spices and sugar to make a pie. You smiled. That'd brighten both your and Wanda's mood. You pulled the little hand wagon full of apples and freshly picked blackberries behind you, just around the edge of the estate.

The dirt path separated the cornfield from the wild berry bushes that prowled closer, and closer to the house.

The sight made you smile. There was something so beautiful about how mature always found a way to grow and adapt despite humanity’s meddling.

You remembered what your mother would say when you helped her prune the apple trees as a young girl. The forest can grow without humans, but humans can’t grow without the forest.

It was not hard to imagine what the farm would look like without any care from you. You could already see the invasive sap suckers moving in to demolish the orchard. Tough weeds and ivy crawling and choking out the cornfield and destroying the greenhouse. The blackberry bushes would eventually dominate the house, alongside ivy and ferns.

This wasn’t just a daydream. You knew that in a few years, maybe decades, that that would be the future of your safe haven.

You looked up as you strolled. Every inch of the sky was covered with grey, but the clouds had yet to open and release.

As you turned the corner, a figure emerged from the tall stalks of corn, dark and staggering.

You stopped, blood turning to ice. The gun you kept in your waistband was in your hand within a second, safety off.

The man, tall and fit, was facing away, only turning when he heard the clank of the wagon handle hitting the ground.

He was light skinned, with long, dark hair. His bright eyes were clouded with a heavy glare. The jacket he wore was black, just like his boots and pants. The insignia was scratched off.

Much like the one Wanda wore, the day you met her.

His face was weather beaten, hair matted, hands bound in weathered bandages. The look in his eye made your heart twist; he seemed so lost, face pinched and confused.

He stood between you and the house.

Between you and Wanda.

"I'm not accepting visitors today," you called out, voice even. It took everything to choke down the fear.

There would have been the option to invite him inside, maybe even help him, if Wanda wasn't upstairs. If she wasn't resting inside, injured, barely able to walk. She was in no state to defend herself.

You called out again. "Come back in two weeks, I might be able to help you. But not now."

The man did nothing. He watched you, sharp blue eyes glancing over the wagon, to the gunning your hand.

"Get out of here, before I get twitchy," you stepped closer.

He pursed his lips, eyes narrowing.

“Two weeks,” he repeated after what felt like an eternity, before turning away.

Your throat constricted, tight until he walked past the house. You followed him for a few paces, making sure he stayed far away from Wanda.

The man disappeared down the cracked asphalt road, and you watched before fetching the wagon. You hadn't even realized the sweat that had formed on your brow, despite the cold.

As you approached the house, you saw Wanda standing in window of the second floor bedroom. Her eyes were darting from you, to where the man had last been. As she stepped away, you pulled the wagon into the house.

"Who was that?" Wanda asked as you stepped through the front door. She stood with her arms crossed while you carried the baskets to the kitchen. "What did he want? Where was he from?"

You gave her a once over, taking in her pale face and fidgeting hands. There was an unfamiliar tension in Wanda’s shoulders, one that trickled into her voice.

She was nervous. Terrified, even.

Her eyes kept shifting from you to the front door, as though she was waiting for the strange man to bust through. You couldn’t but feel the same jitters Wanda was emitting.

“I don’t know,” You placed the basket of apples down. “He didn’t say, I chased him away before he spoke a word. Why?”

“Nothing, never mind,” she said quickly, turning back to the living room.

It was your turn to cross your arms. “Don’t think I didn’t recognize that jacket he was wearing, Wanda.”

She froze, back stiff. “What about it?”

“You were wearing the same one when you showed up here, right?” You asked, walking to the basket of laundry. The jacket sat on top of the heap. “With the symbols all scratched out?”

Wanda audibly swallowed, forcing calm.

Pulling it out, you continued. “Is your last name Maximoff?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Is that a no?” You stepped closer to her. “ Then who are you? What militia were you a part of?”

“I’m not a part of any militia! Not anymore.”

“Are you AWOL?”

“I- no, I’m not!” Wanda snapped.

“Then are you? A one woman army?” You threw the jacket onto the ground. “Who was that man outside, Wanda? You knew him, didn’t you?”

She said nothing, just shook her head.

“Wanda,” you pressed your hands together, remembering to breathe. “I cannot let you stay if you’re AWOL. I-I don’t want to get mixed up in the Militia, and the fucking stupid war on the East Coast. If your presence attracts headhunters, or mercenaries from the New Alliance, you need to leave. Now.”

Wanda turned, eyes wild with panic. “They aren’t looking for me, because they think I’m dead. They think my brother killed me three weeks ago.”

Your mouth turned dry. “What?”

She winced, hand hovering over the bandage on her hip. Sitting down heavily on the couch, Wanda only continued when you sat next to her.

“My brother and I, we joined the New Alliance Militia before the war even started. The New Alliance promised to end the nuclear wars, or at least find a way to stop the fighting within America. We were foolish enough to believe it. And at one point, w-we thought we were doing the right thing.” She lowered her eyes. “I didn’t know they were being paid by the government. Or that they were ravaging every city they came upon. I thought we lived in a new utopia that the New Alliance created. I thought it was perfect. I only figured out the truth a month ago, when I caught a broadcast by the Protectors over the transmitters.”

You listened, heart hammering. She had a brother? The boy from the photo?

“I knew I needed to get out. I planned to disappear and go north, as far as I could until the Militia couldn’t find me. But,” Wanda choked on her words. “My brother found out what i was planning, and he turned me in. I was going to be court martialed for abandonment and punished”

“Punished?”

“Privately executed.”

“Jesus Christ,” You whispered, hand over your mouth.“How did you escape?”

You saw the muscle in her jaw flex. “My brother saved me. When it came to the execution, he turned a blind eye; he helped me.”

“Why? Wasn’t he the one that turned you in?”

“I’m the only family he has left. He couldn’t go through with it. I got out of there and began to head east-”

“-And met me,” you finished, grimacing at your first impressions of each other.

She nodded.

“So, who was that outside?” you broached the topic carefully. ‘Why was he here?”

Wanda stood heavily, walking to the window. “I don’t know his real name. In fact, I’m pretty certain he doesn’t have one. The other soldiers in the Militia would call him the Winter Soldier.”

“Oh God,” You had heard the name mentioned several times over transmissions and radio channels. The Winter Soldier was the face of the New Alliance Militia. He was formidable, and credited for eradicating whole factions of Protectors.

The New Alliance’s favorite attack dog had been standing a few feet in front of you, just moments ago.

“There were rumors in the camp that every night, the Militia leader, Colonel Rumlow, and the other doctors brainwash him to be a killer,” she continued. “Sometimes when I was on evening parole, I could hear machines and screaming from his compound.”

“He... he could’ve...” your hands were clammy. “He could have killed us. Why didn’t he?”

Wanda paced, each step labored. “I don’t know. At first I thought the Militia had found out I escaped, and that maybe he was here for me, but he saw me in the window and left without a fight.”

“He was alone, and pretty beaten up. The insignia on his jacket was ripped off, like your’s was,” ��You scratched your cheek. “Is there any chance he could be AWOL?”

“No,” she answered almost immediately. “I mean, he was the Militia’s most loyal soldier. I don’t know what could have make him turn.”

You nodded slowly. “Anything’s possible.”

“That’s true,” Wanda replied.

“He’ll probably come back.”

“Maybe.”

“We’ll be ready.”

She let out a dissonant laugh. “Yeah, and he’ll kill us before we blink.”

“He’s going to come back,” you remembered the encounter. “He said so himself.”

Wanda hummed, fingers brushing against the dog tags. “Then we’re definitely screwed.”

***

“North? North? You there?” The radio crackled to life. “It’s Queens, you awake?”

You seated yourself at your desk, on the desk light. “I’m here, is the channel secure?”

“Yup,” Queens sounded tired. You could imagine the young man, sitting in the pickup truck in the middle of nowhere, under the stars. Anxiety gripped your heart. “I’m gonna need some directions, North.”

“Where are you now?” You pulled out the various road maps that you had stored away. The study was next to your bedroom, and the second room that you frequented the most. Through the wall, you could hear Wanda tossing in bed.

You waited, listening to him yawn. “I’m in Illinois, just outside Chicago.”

“When was the last time you slept?” The clock on your desk read 2:36 am. “You need to be alert when you drive, Queens.”

“I’ve been driving non-stop,” He replied, letting out another yawn. “The truck’s tank is almost empty.”

You shook your head. “What are you going to do?”

There was a pause. “I...I don’t know.”

Despair was so thick in his voice, it made your eyebrows furrow. You cleared your throat, looking down at the map. “You’re almost here. It might take you a few more days, but you should be able to arrive without any problems.”

“Really?” Queens seemed to perk up. “Tell me how far I am.”

You were hesitant to give him a list of highways and slip routes to take. What if the channel wasn’t secure? What if someone was listening right now? prayed to god that Queens remembered most of them, there was a quiet knock at the door.

“Come in,” you called to the door. Wanda poked her head in, showing no traces of ever sleeping.

She wore her pajamas and one of your sweaters, arms crossed against the chill of the house. You nodded when she mouthed can I come in?

“Okay, North,” Queens said. “I’m going to settle in for the night. My eyes can’t stay open.”

“Sounds good, kiddo. Make sure you lock the doors and stay out of sight,” you responded.

“Aye aye captain,”

You grinned. “Goodnight. See you in a few days.”

“Goodnight, see you soon.”

You laughed softly and turned off the radio.

“Who was that?” She asked, sitting on the leather couch next to the desk. Her legs were crossed, hands folded. Your eyes landed on the strands of hair that had fallen out of her pony tail. The gas lantern on your desk illuminated her eyes, letting a warm light fall over her skin.

“Queens,” you responded, unable to swallow. “He’s a kid I found over the radio a year ago.”

She frowned. “Queens?”

“His code name,” you explained. “We can never be certain if the channel is secure, so we try to avoid using real names. I’ve already taken a risk in telling him how to get here.”

“And you’re ‘North’?”

“Uh huh. Like North Dakota.”

“Why are you helping him?” She asked carefully.

You smiled, a little strained. “Queens just got into high school when war broke out. There are so many people, especially kids, that are suffering because of this war. I want to help him get out in one piece.”

“He’s just some random kid?”

“He’s just some random kid.” You sat back in your chair. “He’s actually quite brilliant. I think he hasn’t gotten this far on pure luck; the kid’s a genius with machines.”

Wanda offered you a rare smile. “That’s really kind of you to help him.”

“It helps me sleep at night,” you shrugged, forcing nonchalance. The complement caught you off guard.

Wanda shook her head, face pinched. It was as though she could not muster the energy to be frustrated with you. “You’re a good person, Y/N.”

You laughed bitterly. “Wanda, I wasn’t always the bleeding heart humanitarian you see before you.” Leaning towards her, elbows on your knees, you spoke in a whisper. “It takes more than what you’re willing to give to live in the blast zone. You can’t tell me that I’m a good person, not after what I’ve done to get here.”

Wanda watched you intently as you rambled.

“It’s never been easy out here. Not once have I woken up and been glad to be alive; not since the war started. You have to be ruthless to survive, and I’m so damn tired of surviving. I want to live, and feel alive.” You choked out the last word, head dropping to your hands. “Wanda, it took so much of me to find a home in this wreckage. I’m so... so different now.”

If you knew everything, you’d call me a monster.

There was silence as you took in ragged breaths, as though you had never learnt to breathe. Those were words you had not ever spoken aloud. Instead of felling like a weight being lifted, the confession felt like a brick falling through glass, and now you were picking up the pieces. The moment the words were out, you felt hot embarrassment work its way through your system. God, did Wanda really want to hear about your sob story now?

You felt a cool hand on your wrist, pulling your hands away from your face.

Instead of the usual vindictive look she held in her eyes, Wanda was looking at you with nothing but sympathy. The corners of her lips were pulled into a soft smile that chipped away at the husk around your heart.

“It’s never too late to change, Y/N,” she murmured, eyes glancing down to where her hand encircled your wrist. “I know that better than anyone.”

Before you could think, your finger brushed over her knuckles, a gesture so intimate and unfamiliar. You closed your eyes.

“Thank you, Wanda.”

As fast as it happened, the hand was gone. When you looked up, Wanda was standing, appearing equally stunned as apologetic. In the dim light, you could see the faintest blush on her cheeks, but ignored it for now.

“Wanda, wait, plea-”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” she said quickly, unable to meet your gaze. “See you tomorrow.”

The door closed hastily, leaving you alone in your study, unable to comprehend what just happened.

As you extinguished the lantern, you felt the phantom sensations of Wanda’s hand around your wrist, gentle and comforting.

As you crawled into the guest room’s bed, you forced yourself to stop over analyzing everything about Wanda.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagines #wanda maximoff x reader #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch imagines #apocalypse au #enemies to friends to lovers #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fic #Marvel AU

240 notes · View notes

crossbows-and-moonshine · 5 years

Text

Let The Flames Begin (Chapter 29)

Shits about to get real in here.

Giving you fair warning, you have like 5 chapters left after this one. You’ll already know this if you have me on Tumblr. If you don't, there will be a sequel, so don't worry. I’ll post my reasons in the last chapter of this one.

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

Charlene was waiting for Daryl to get back from hunting. She was pacing by the quarry trying to gather her courage. She was nervous, but she tried to take comfort in Daryl's own words and what Merle said. Daryl admitted he liked her, fuck he had kissed her. And then Merle explained why he had freaked out. He didn't think he was good enough so he presumed it was some kind of trick. She was nervous because for her plan to work, she would have to admit a lot of shit to him and that would be embarrassing. But if it meant he would finally see she was telling the truth, she would do it. She wasn't sure if Daryl would even turn up. Merle had told her when Daryl came back he would send him over here. She didn't have any desire to have this conversation within earshot of people. She had a sinking feeling Daryl might just ignore Merle and go straight to the tent. She didn't regret the kiss. It had been a fucking good kiss and she wanted more of them. But if this was it now. If Daryl didn't want to listen to what she had to say and things were ruined with them, then she would regret it. She didn't want things to be awkward with them or for them to drift apart.

She paced around anxiously, breathing deeply as she pumped herself up for the talk, if it ever happened. She heard someone walking down to the quarry and she glanced up, meeting Daryl's stony gaze.

“Sit down,” she demanded. His eyes widened a little, her tone was unexpected and he squinted, not liking being told what to do. He complied anyway because he wanted to know what the fuck she was going to say. His curiosity would be the death of him. He sat on the rock in front of her, chewing his thumb anxiously. He felt awkward as shit and he knew she was mad by her face. He had fucked up again, but he didn't care. Or at least that's what he told himself.

“You wanna tell me what this bullshit is about me not being good enough for you, or thinking that last night was some kind of trick?” she asked bluntly. His thumb fell from his mouth as he gaped at her. That fucking snitch Merle. He couldn't believe he fucking told her that. He felt the anger brewing inside of him and he clenched his jaw.

“It's fuckin’ true ain't it?” he snapped, glaring up at her. He didn't even want to know what she wanted to say, he didn't want to stick around for this. He got up and stormed off, leaving the girl glaring after him. She followed him, not caring that now they were in camp and some people were milling around.

“Don’t walk away from me Daryl!” she huffed, getting angrier by the second.

“Trouble in paradise?” Shane asked with a smirk as he suddenly appeared, Daryl’s nostrils flared in anger and he was about to open his mouth but Charlene beat him to it.

“Nobody asked you Shane so go the fuck away,” she growled causing Merle to bark a laugh as he sat by a tree. Shane blinked at her, shocked at her tone and even Daryl looked at her like she had grown another head. He hadn't heard her talk like that before but it was a little amusing that she had spoken to that prick like that. Or at least it would have been if she wasn't chasing him down, trying to back him into a corner with her bullshit.

“Hey, no need for that. I’m just making sure there ain’t a problem here,” he spoke in that slow calm tone that rubbed Daryl the wrong way and he squinted at him.

“The only issue here is this asshole walking away from me when I’m trying to talk to him,” she glowered. Daryl looked at her, his jaw set.

“We ain't doin’ this here,” he sneered, gripping her upper arm and leading her back to the fucking quarry. Like fuck he was doing this with all the nosey assholes staring at them. He felt like he had no choice if she was going to do this. When they got back there, he sat down glaring up at her.

“Ya done?” he spat, making her shake her head and scoff.

“Are you?” She retorted harshly. He looked down, clenching his jaw tightly as he glared at the floor.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. She knew he had his issues and that's why she was trying to be patient with him, even if she did want to kick him a little.

“Do you wanna know how long I've liked you for?” she asked, making him scoff bitterly and shake his head as he looked off to the side, clearly not believing her. She was talking shit and he wanted no part of this.

“I‘ve had a crush on you since I was 17,” she admitted, not wavering in her stance as she bore holes into him with her green eyes. Daryl squinted at her distrustfully so she decided to carry on.

“You probably don't even remember. But I was walking home with Anna and you were at her house with Billy, working on his bike. Right away I asked Anna who you were because I thought you were hot. I said something about Anna not shutting her mouth and you actually laughed. I almost died, Anna found it hilarious how into you I was,” she started. Daryl couldn't look at her. He remembered what she was talking about and he had almost forgotten about it. She had been young then, too young for him so he hadn't really thought about her that way. And now the memories of Billy’s sister's friend kept coming to the surface, remembering every time Charlene had been around him before he actually noticed her. It was weird to think she might have liked him even back then, before he had liked her. Once again it was hard to believe and he found himself distrusting as he gnawed on his thumb.

“Every time I went there after, I always hoped you’d be there. If you were I’d watch you, admire you from afar. Then I started work and you just seemed to be there all of the time. I’d try and talk to you but you were never interested. I mean how else do you think I was the one who always served you in the diner? I would literally beg Jenna to let me bus your table if she was the one working that area. I fucking like you Daryl. I don't give a shit what your head is telling you. I’ve liked you for years,” she said firmly. He glanced up at her warily but she could see on his face he was conflicted. He eyed her, she didn't look like she was lying and that left him confused. His brain was adamant she wouldn't like him and here she was confessing liking him for years. It didn't match up to his thoughts and he couldn't make sense of anything.

Charlene looked at him, she didn't know how this was going. He looked conflicted but she didn't really have anything else to say. She slumped her shoulders a little and sighed.

“You know what Daryl, I don't know what you fucking want from me. I’ve told you the truth and if you can't believe that, then there's nothing I can do,” she frowned. She went to walk away back to camp but his hand darted out, catching her wrist firmly. She glanced at him and he wasn't able to look at her. His chest was heaving a little, his brain still trying to soak in everything she had said. She wasn't a liar and he knew that, but things didn't make sense.

“I just...I don't get how. Or why. It don't make no fuckin’ sense to me that someone like you would like me that way,” he hated how soft his voice sounded. So fucking unsure of himself. Talking about this kind of shit, talking about his feelings, it wasn't something he enjoyed doing but he was terrified. He was scared if he let her walk away after all she had told him that she wouldn't want anything to do with him now.

He wasn’t stupid, he knew he had issues. And he wanted so desperately to believe what she was saying. But he was scared. Because that stupid little voice in the back of his head was telling him it was all lies and it was killing him.

“I told you once before Daryl, you’re a good man. I’ve always seen it. There is no ‘me better than you’ bullshit. I told you that day exactly how I see you, you know what I think of you. I never thought you'd like me back because I thought you'd want some kind of strong woman, someone who could look after herself. Not a dumb little preachers daughter,” she huffed. Daryl felt like he was getting a taste of his own medicine when she uttered those words. Listening to her put herself down like that. He fucking hated it and he frowned. Her words were spinning around his head, all she had admitted to him. And now seeing her look unsure of herself, mirroring him, he found himself opening his mouth before he had the chance to think about it.

“I used to come to the store and diner just for you. I ain't need a damn thing but...I’d go in to see ya. See that pretty smile,” he admitted as his cheeks flushed. He wasn't able to look at her, admitting such things out loud. He felt like such a fucking girl, but part of him felt good to finally get it off his chest. She was quiet and when he chanced a glance at her, she was biting her lip and smiling as her cheeks tinged pink. He snorted, looking down feeling like a dick. But his chest felt weird at making her smile and blush like that. Nothing added up in his head. Her words, how she acted, she did seem like she liked him that way. When he thought back to how she always slept next to him, how she was fine with being in her underwear and having him touch her hair. All the little things since they had been stuck together. It all made sense. He tried to ignore the little voice in his head, the one that would always fill him with self-doubt and hatred. He wanted to believe her, and he knew deep down she wasn’t lying. So what if he couldn't fucking fathom it? Maybe he should count his fucking blessings that she liked him back instead of questioning it.

He looked back up at her, confusing himself further. She was so beautiful it almost hurt his eyes and he wasn't sure what fucking planet he was on right now, but he knew he should roll with it. Who knew when she would change her damn mind.

“You remember what I said that time? How before you freak out you should just talk to me?” she smirked, making him scoff and look down, his cheeks turning pink.

“I know. Keep fuckin’ up,” he sighed, shaking his head. He was still gripping her wrist and he could feel her pulse under his fingertips. He inhaled a deep breath as he stood up, looking down at her as she blinked at him.

“M’sorry. I know I say it all the fuckin’ time and I’ll probably have to continue to say it. Ain't used to this shit. Keep messin’ up,” he frowned. Charlene raked her teeth over her plump lower lip, his eyes catching the movement.

He was caught off guard when she took a step closer, in his personal space. His throat felt like it closed up as his heart hammered against his ribcage. Why did every little thing she did make him feel like a fucking girl?

“I’m trying to be patient. I know you have your issues and I’ll keep being patient. But you need to meet me halfway here Daryl. If you're serious about this, it's not gonna work if you keep doing this. Just talk to me next time and we can figure it out together,” she said softly, giving him a tentative smile. He swallowed thickly as he nodded. He knew it wouldn't work if he kept at it, he would push her away eventually and hate himself for it. He had wanted this for so long, and now it was here, his fantasy coming to life and he knew he needed to try and sort his shit out. She said he could talk to her when things got messy in his head like they always did and it was embarrassing. But he knew he would have to swallow his pride when it came to it or he’d have to live with the fact he had ruined it all. That he had the girl of his dreams and fucked it all up.

“I’mma try. Might slip up from time to time but… I want this,” he admitted, the tips of his ears burning. If I could stop blushin’ like a damn chick, that would be fuckin’ great…

She grinned up at him and he felt a smile work its way onto his face. It felt better now they talked it out. Maybe he would get used to this sharing feelings bullshit. He felt lighter and now he could ignore the damn voice in his head and focus on the words she had told him, the sincerity on her face. She was so close to him and he felt like his legs might just give out on him. His breathing picked up as she leant in, kissing him somewhat hesitantly. They'd both need to get used to this, but if kissing was part of that, then shit, he was down for it. His hand came up to rest on the side of her neck, her pulse point under his fingertips. He deepened the kiss, feeling a little more brave about the whole thing since she apparently liked him for as long as she did. He felt her pulse pick up as he kissed her more firmly. She fisted his shirt, pulling him a little closer and he groaned, tangling his tongue with hers. He didn't think kissing anyone had ever been this good before, had him this worked up. He couldn't help it though, he felt like a schoolboy all over again. When she pulled away, she gave him a smile as her cheeks flushed. He couldn't help the satisfaction he felt every time she gave him that look, that he had been the one to put it on her pretty face.

“Not gonna bolt on me this time are you?” she smirked wryly, making him glare playfully at her.

“Little smart ass again huh?” he asked, making her snort at him. He was glad she was trying to make light of it though, everything felt better when it was a little less heavy. He was beyond grateful with the amount of chances she continued to give him. For her continued patience with him and his stupid damn head. He wasn't sure when it would all run out but he would try his fucking hardest to keep himself in check from now on. He didn't think he would ever wrap his head around the fact she liked him at all. That she found him attractive, thought he was a good man. But he did believe her. So he would just ignore the confusion and soak her in for as long as she would let him.

“So… are we going steady now or what?” she grinned mischievously. He rolled his eyes as he huffed a laugh.

“Don’t make me fuckin’ gag that pretty little mouth,” he smirked as he shook his head. He didn’t know what the fuck they were. He wanted her to be his girl but he wasn't really in the right place to ask her such a thing, not yet.

“Mhm, I think you might like it too much,” she teased as she took a step back, looking all cheeky and shit. His cheeks flushed a little as he fake glared at her and it only made her laugh lightly.

“That's it, I’m gonna go ask Merle for the duct tape,” he snorted. She bit her lower lip and grinned widely at him, making his insides turn to mush again. I’m the luckiest bastard on the whole damn planet.

Taglist; @risingphoenix761 @daryldixonandfrogs @arlaina28 @divadinag @keeperofwonderlandus @jodiereedus22 @easnuppa @fand0m-fiend @txladyj-blog @walkingdead-dixon

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #twd #twd fanfiction #twd fanfic #The Walking Dead #the walking dead fanfic #Merle Dixon

46 notes · View notes

mtraki · 4 years

Link

(Warning: fluff and smut ahead!)

Arthur had double-backed and retraced his footsteps twice that evening, on the way to Miss Schofield’s tent. Fortunately nobody still awake was paying him any mind. This time he’d made it to just a few steps from where he could reach the entrance or call on her within.

It wasn’t a good idea. But every time he turned back for his own tent, he’d somehow convinced himself all over again how harmless it was. How it might do him some good.

It wasn’t a good idea. It’d invite disaster into the careful, teetering balance they’d established.

With winter upon the land in full, and jobs worth the risk all but dried up, he spent more time around camp, seeing to keeping them warm and fed. Together, the two of them had gotten wiser about choosing their moments. Stolen kisses and lingering touches with none the rest the wiser. He’d attempted a few whispered compliments, but they’d sounded foolish the moment he uttered them. Her flirtations were much better, setting fire to him time and again, so he never need worry about the cold.

It was good. Much better than he deserved, for certain.

It did nothing for his nightly torments. The last time he remembered sleeping peaceful was back in Tall Trees, when she’d come out looking for him.

Where he’d had the nerve to kiss her.

Where he’d slept with her pressed cozily into his side…

It wasn’t a good idea.

He cleared his throat, quietly. A half-hearted attempt so he could tell himself he’d tried the next time he walked back to his tent with his tail tucked, “Miss Schofield?” His whisper was soft. He didn’t want it to carry. Wasn’t convinced he wanted to be heard by anyone at all.

Only able to bear waiting one racing heartbeat later, Arthur turned to leave again when he heard the rustle of movement. Panic chased up his spine, and he almost leapt forward to escape. Instead he froze.

“... Who’s out there?” Her voice came soft and guarded. It bothered him that he might have troubled her, so Arthur turned and stood at the entrance so she could see him from where she peeked out.

“It’s just me.” He answered in a whisper, “... I’ll let you be.”

“No... That’s alright. Did you need something?”

No. Yes.

Even in the dark, the moonlight eyes seemed to see the war within him, so she said before he could answer, “Just tell me what it is, Arthur. Please.”

She was too clever for him. In just a few short weeks, she’d learned just how to say that ‘please’ in a way that would shoot straight through him. He hoped he grew used to it, and all those vulnerable parts would scar over so it wouldn’t work anymore…

He hoped she didn't use it often enough for him to ever get used to it…

Letting his breath out slow, a long plume in the dark, he said, at length, “... I dunno how to ask it polite…”

“Then don’t bother with polite. Ask me plain.”

“...I…” He sighed again, hanging his head heavy, “Can I spend the night wit’ you?”

“Of course,” She said it so simply, like she’d been expecting him to ask. Like it wasn’t such an imposition upon her and her beloved privacy. Something swelled hot and aching in his chest, “Come in, and turn on the lamp, please. It’s on the right.”

Doing as bidden, Arthur ducked into the tent, removing his hat and turning to the right, groping for the lantern in the dark. Deeper in the small space, he could hear Catherine fussing with cloth, probably laying out her pallet to accommodate the two of them more comfortably. His hands found the lantern-- still holding the last vestiges of heat from before she turned it out for the night-- and he was able to strike a match to light it again rather quickly, despite the anxious feelings threatening to put a tremble in his fingers.

Golden light flooded the small space, and the outlaw set his hat to the side before turning to look at Miss Schofield again. His heart promptly stopped, lurching into his throat so he might choke on it.

She had indeed lain out the pallet and blankets to accommodate the both of them. She was also wearing little more than her skin. He had vague memories of the sleeveless shift she had on-- the rainstorm, he thought, but he’d been quite drunk that night, and couldn’t be sure-- that let light through enough to see the cream of her skin through the pale lace and silk. Her arms were covered in gooseflesh. She was probably freezing. Even so, one of her hands was slowly sliding a lace strap down the round of her shoulder, widening the half-moon of skin below the nape of her neck.

In a rush, he caught her hand, trapping it between his and her shoulder. She looked up at him, bemused and a bit pensive.

Oh.

“... No, darlin’. That… that ain’t what I meant.” He swallowed around a suddenly very dry throat, “... I jus’... I jus’ meant to sleep. Together, wit’ you. An’ uh… well, I thought I might hold you…?”

“...I see…” She looked to the side, a wry smile on her face, and Arthur knew she was either chastising or laughing at herself. Then she met his eyes again, “Are you sure?”

“W--”

“--I mean that if you had intended somewhat more, I would not think the advance improper. You do not have to fabricate--”

“--I ain’t fabricatin’ anything, m--Catherine.” He shook his head, thoughts whirling frantically, “I jus’ want some sleep.”

Both her brows raised as she continued looking at him over her shoulder, and her mouth formed a small moue, “Just some sleep…”

“Yes..?” This hadn’t been a good idea. Already large parts of him were judging the best way to retreat while conserving the greatest portion of his dignity.

“... Alright,” She blessedly relented, holding up both hands with a shrug, “you can put your clothes over there…”

“... What?” He stared after her as she pulled back the woolen blanket, clearly with the intention of slipping under it.

She huffed a quiet laugh, “There’s no need for a fuss, Arthur. It’s cold enough for you to wear a union suit underneath, isn’t it?”

Setting his jaw, he narrowed his eyes at her, “What if I ain’t wearin’ one?”

“Then I guess you’ll have to square with sleeping naked here or clothed back in your own tent,” She smiled at him brightly, shrugging a shoulder, “But you are not climbing into my pallet with your dirty clothes on.”

He was tired, and anxious, and the note of finality in her voice brooked no argument or negotiation-- especially with how she pulled the blanket up around herself with her back turned.

So he just… began taking off his clothes, starting with his boots, “Y’know, some men might consider this an unreasonable imposition, Miss Schofield.” He muttered over his shoulder.

“I know,” He heard the smile in her voice, “but I wouldn’t pass the night with such men of my own volition.”

“And what happens if I’ve got to get up in a hurry? Someone comes snoopin’ around?”

“I have full confidence in your abilities to defend the camp in your underthings or even in the nude, Arthur.”

“Sure. Fine. But you think them fools are talkin’ now…”

She laughed quietly, “You can tell them I was being unreasonable.”

Heat coiled through his belly, and Arthur wasn’t sure whether she’d meant for there to be a double-meaning to her words or not. He finished undressing, carefully laying out a revolver where he might reach it in the dark without a belt and holster on.

“Leave the light on.” Was her quiet instruction, that made him wonder how closely she was listening to him, or if she’d been peeking over her shoulder. Otherwise he wasn’t sure how she’d known he was reaching for the lantern.

“You sure?” “Yes. It’ll help when one of us wakes, confused about where we are.”

“Alright…” He looked at her, then at the pallet laid out, “... How you wanna do this?”

“Lie down like you would if you were alone.”

“Usually on my back…”

“I know.”

His brow furrowed, “... You sure it’s alright? Gonna take up a lot of room...”

“Just lie down, Arthur.”

Taking a deep breath, the outlaw complied, settling himself down on the pallet. As he settled in, the lady turned and started spreading the blanket over his legs. Then she looked down at him, “I’m on your right side now. Is that alright, or do you want me on the left?”

“Yer fine wherever you like, Catherine,” He told her softly.

Giving a small smile, she laid herself down next to him while he watched, drinking in her nonchalant grace and how casually she submitted her body to him. Without a second’s hesitation, she pressed close, tucking her front against his side so that her head rested on his shoulder, like he wasn’t a barely-washed outlaw. Once she was settled in position, he felt and heard her quietly let out her breath, and every muscle in her body relaxed, yielding herself utterly, as if in full trust in him.

It was beautiful, and perfect.

But Arthur could not relax. His heart still raced, and his thoughts tumbled recklessly. He let them wander, crashing around in his skull, because if he tried to corral them, they’d focus on how Catherine had been prepared to lie with him even more intimately.

On how that revelation caused heat and tension to pool relentlessly between his hips. How her figure folded so neatly against him, and his arm around her, and the smell of her all around him only intensified that insistent, foolish line of tension. How her hand resting on his chest felt equal parts possessive and trusting, and how much he wanted to surrender himself to it like a paltry offering. Weeks ago, he’d known himself to be a man half-conquered. He wondered if it was more than half, now.

He wondered if he was completely in her possession. He wondered what that meant. If it was a good thing. For anybody.

“You’re very tense,” He heard the lady murmur gently, and Arthur wondered how long he’d been lying there, sleepless and harried and achingly hard.

“Sorry.” He whispered back.

Her hand brushed lightly across his chest, “Are you uncomfortable?”

“I’m alright.”

She hummed softly to herself, “What are you worrying at, then?”

“Nothin’ in particular.” He lied, and hoped she didn’t catch him in it.

When she didn’t reply, he figured she’d gone back to sleep, so he closed his eyes and told himself he could do the same. After a few minutes of trying to convince his body to unclench, he felt her index finger make indistinct circles, gently against the wool of his union suit, her hand still resting on his chest, “Everyone is very excited about this lead Mister Bell proposed…”

“Sure. Folks get restless-- especially fools like the Callander brothers and Williamson.” He mumbled back.

“Mac and Bill were joking about some kind of killing competition… Is the mark going to be heavily guarded?”

Arthur sighed, uninterested in the subject at the moment, “Might be. Train load of money for the banks out this way, for the winter.”

“Are you going to catch it around Armadillo, again?”

“Seems to be the plan. You worried?”

“... No. I’m sure you’ll handle the business well enough.”

“I’ll do my best, anyway.” He answered, running the hand of the arm around her gently up the side of her arm in what he hoped was somewhat reassuring.

She lay quiet a moment, seeming to think this over, “Do you suppose then we’ll have enough money to go to California, like Dutch has been saying?”

“Oh, I dunno. You’d have to ask Dutch…”

“We both know he won’t tell me,” Catherine gave a delicate snort, “He hardly gives me any clear idea of direction, much less details.”

Grimacing, unwilling to try and unpack or explore that, Arthur offered a neutral, “Sure…”

Suddenly, she propped up on her elbow, and Arthur looked up at her studying his face with her pale eyes, “... What do you think about it?”

“About California?” He smiled wryly and shrugged, “Seems as good a place as any other, I reckon.”

“Do you suppose anything will change when we get there?”

Blinking at her, Arthur noted the faint tension in her brow, “I couldn’t say, Catherine… Dutch says we’ll get some land and keep to ourselves.”

“I know what Dutch says, but it sounds like something he’s probably said before. But I wasn’t here before. You were.”

“... Well, I mean, there was this place he was looking at a little before he brought you to us. But he didn’t buy it. Never found out why. We had to move on after that.” Then he knit his own brow at her, “Why? What’re you houdin’ after?”

Her eyes had drifted away from his face, and she was looking at the canvas beyond him. The outlaw could almost see the thoughts ticking furiously in her head. Finally she looked at him again, “... I think nothing will ever change, Arthur. I don’t think California will be any different.”

“You never know…”

She shook her head, the length of her plait snaking over her shoulder and falling heavily in a loop, “I don’t believe California will offer what Mister van der Linde is looking for. Even if it provides everything the rest of you need, he won’t be content.”

She was probably right. Arthur knew from experience how Dutch’s moods could get. He’d get restless and excited about something or another. Some new truth to champion. Some new injustice to thwart. Another example to be made. Another enemy to strike down. It’d been more exciting when he was younger, and though he’d never always bought into all of it, Arthur thought the drama of it was well-worn, now. There’d seemed everything to gain and nothing to lose back then. Now… now there was a whole group of them. Not just three or four men, but women and a child now too…

But he didn’t say anything. He just looked up into Miss Schofield’s beautiful face, wondering what might become of all this-- of them-- and why she was bringing it up now.

“What if…” She whispered softly, smoothing her hand against his chest, as if feeling out the shape of his muscles there. Arthur mused idly if she knew how it was torching through his blood, throbbing molten below his guts, “... What if we went on our own?”

“Alone?” Arthur frowned, “... That ain’t a good idea…”

The lady popped up, supporting herself with her hand instead of her elbow, though her other hand remained where it was, “Why do you say so?”

“Dutch always said--”

“--I don’t care what Dutch thinks about it,” She interjected quickly, “I want to know what Arthur thinks about it.”

He blinked at her, feeling his chest clench up, stuttering the breath from his lungs as her hand started drifting down over his ribs and toward his belly. He could tell there wasn’t any intent in the touch-- it seemed, after all, that she was pulling her hand away from him in a slow and casual way.

“So think about it. I’ll ask again later.”

“... Okay…”

Suddenly her hand froze, over the middle of his belly where the wool of his union suit had pulled away from his skin like a tent canvas to accommodate the problematic bulging and protrusion further down. Staring at her face, which had turned to look at where her hand was resting, Arthur only had a thimble’s full of hope she hadn’t noticed. Then she returned his look with a small, knowing smile, and that hope evaporated.

“... I… Pardon me--”

Her tone was impossibly kind, “--It’s fine, Arthur.”

“... It’s… I ain’t--”

“--I know you cannot help it. You don’t have to apologize.”

Sighing, utterly embarrassed and disgusted with himself, he insisted, “... I really didn’t come here for that.”

She laughed quietly, “I believe you. But a man is entitled to change his mind…”

With a frown and a snort, Arthur told her, “Ain’t worth troubling over.”

“It will help you relax…” She said it like an invitation and an indisputable fact both.

That was probably true. Didn’t make it a good idea. No matter how every part of him was eagerly on fire over it. He was surprised, in fact, just how furiously he did burn. After all, he’d buried these urges years ago, in heartache, regret, and bitterness, and they’d rested quietly since. But with Miss Schofield unearthing them, somehow they were just as potent and foolhardy as he remembered. There was no hope of sleeping now. Had there ever been, here in this tent with her? Or had he merely tricked himself into thinking so?

His eyes were drawn from the cool patience in her expression, down, along the pale column of her throat, over the delicate contours of her collarbones where he yearned to press soft kisses (and which he would undoubtedly spend hours and pages trying to reproduce in his journal), and the heavily shadowed hints of lace-covered breast and belly…

She knew he was looking-- had to know, seeing as her eyes hadn’t left his face-- and yet she did not protest or say or do anything but remain still and let him look. She neither encouraged or discouraged her suggestion, and seemed instead insistent on letting him make up his own mind.

‘What you want has… become important to me.’

Despite his protests that she do otherwise, she was still trying to give him what he wanted. Well, there were a lot of things he wanted-- especially at this moment, blazing with lust-- none of them he likely deserved.

But for certain, “... I don’t want to make a mess of things. Or hurt you. Or make problems for you-- well, more than I’ve already done…”

She moved her hand, then, bringing it up from his belly to caress the side of his face, “How do you suppose you’d manage that?” Was her gentle question.

Taking a breath, attempting to steady himself, he replied, “By gettin’ you wit’ child, fer a start…”

Strange, that the lightning in his pulse was strong enough to keep at bay-- if only for the moment--the floor-dropping, quiet, horror and self-loathing that always accompanied the acknowledgement that he could produce, and had produced, an innocent child.

She gave a quiet laugh, “Oh, well, I suppose there is always that dreadful fate…”

“It’s happened before.”

His words or tone, or both, doused her mirth, but it was neither shock nor horror that replaced it. Instead, he recognized that quiet, warm, ever-patient look she’d given many others. It was a look that invited him to bare the ruin of his soul to her, knowing she would listen and not judge, and it devastated him just as completely as he’d reckoned it would.

But he did not tell her more about Eliza or Issac. Not now. He knew he would, eventually, but there was too much else rampaging through him that to try and draw together words to do them justice was impossible.

Leaning down, Catherine pressed a feather-light kiss to his lips and said, “If that is your concern, do not be troubled. I am well-educated in how I might prevent an unwanted consequence. Besides, please do remember that I can provide you relief without risk at all.”

There was that ‘please’, again, driving through his chest like a railroad spike, splintering whatever was left of his pragmatic sense…

“I don’ think there’s any such thing,” He groaned quietly, against her lips after leaning up to capture them again, “as ‘relief’ when it comes to you, darlin’...”

“You poor thing,” he felt the curling smile against his lips while she murmured in answer, “It won’t do any harm to try anyway, don’t you think?”

Admittedly, he wasn’t doing much thinking. All he knew was that he was kissing her, and drowning in the scent of wildflowers, and if his heart gave out from all the trampling around his ribcage, it’d be the sweetest death anybody could hope for. His right hand came up, sliding along the delicate line of her back through the silk and lace. Parts of him longed to pull her close against him, but would just as soon crush a delicate bloom in his hand as force her down on him if she didn’t offer it herself. But while his hand travelled carefully up her back, hers moved more confidently down his front until he felt her stroke lightly the length of the tentpole in his union suit, and his breath caught, clattering, in his throat.

“Steady…” She whispered, breaking the kiss, “Breathe.”

Confused, Arthur furrowed his brow at her, wondering what she was talking about with such a soft demeanor, “W-what?”

“Focus on your breathing,” She gave him a small smile, “So I don’t have to scrub a mess out of your union suit later…”

He chuckled, but a part of him inside burned with embarrassment, or offense, or something between the two, “... You think I made it this long without knowin’ how t’keep my composure?”

The smile melted from her face, and Arthur watched the lady’s pale eyes search him, trying to read him. Then she cocked an eyebrow and said quietly, “In most cases, I suspect you very much have full control of your faculties, Arthur. But I tell you from experience: that all goes out the window once a lady has a hand on your cock.”

Laughing in earnest this time, burying the sound into the side of her throat, leaning up, Arthur was unable to contradict her, “... I ain’t ever livin’ that down, am I…”

“I’m not trying to humiliate you,” She whispered, removing her hand from his chest to thread her fingers through his hair-- but she did not pull him away from her neck, so Arthur continued pressing kisses there against the delicate skin, “I really do want you to focus on your breathing. I can make it wonderful…”

“It’s already wonderful.”

“Trust me.”

He did, he supposed. Still... “... You want me t’jus’ lie here an’ breathe? I’m kinda liking what else I’m doin’, in fairness…”

“No,” The outlaw felt the quiet chuckle in her throat more than he heard the sound, “You don’t have to stop if you don’t want to.”

Humming his acknowledgement, tracing his lips lightly down a prominent tendon toward her collarbone, the fingertips of his right hand had just found the nape of her neck, and his left hand found a rather natural place to rest at the side of her waist. It was nothing new to take the lady by the waist, as he’d done on numerous occasions-- the neat, snatched curve fit his hand easily, and made for a good anchor point from which to lift or direct her physically when needed--but he was surprised to find her so soft and slender without her corset. Without the whalebone and confusingly numerous layers she wore, Arthur was rather startled by how slight she was under his hands. He suddenly felt awkwardly large by comparison.

Her fingers had left his hair-- something he decided he would miss unless she did it again-- and both hands met in the center of his chest, “Will you be cold if I undo your buttons?” she asked, still whispering.

“No,” Was his admission, murmured into the hollow between her clavicles where he breathed deep of her wildflower scent. His rampaging heart had him burning up in his wool suit under the wool blanket, “What about you? You warm enough in this… what is this anyway?”

“They’re called ‘combinations’,” Was her helpful answer as her fingers busied themselves efficiently at his centerline, undoing each button with ease, “And I am now with you. You put out heat like a stove, Arthur.”

“Happy to be of service,” He smiled, sliding his fingertips carefully from the nape of her neck to her jawline and chin so he could tip her face down to drink her up in another kiss. It was a hard sell for him to accept he could, in truth, be anything but a burden (if not an outright menace) for her, but he was coming to the conclusion that at the very least, she liked the way he kissed her. Especially when she seemed to hesitate every time in whatever else she might be trying to do, like she’d forgotten just what it was in the moment. A paltry victory, probably, in the face of how she managed to stampede over him with every look, word, smile, and touch.

But it gave him an excuse to kiss those full, sweet lips more often. A particularly wicked part of him took extra pleasure in the way her breathing caught, in what he imagined was an expression of affront to her more delicate sensibilities, whenever he slipped his tongue to mingle with hers.

He was so secretly pleased with the reaction, in fact, that he didn’t realize she’d managed to finish unbuttoning his union suit until he felt her shifting her weight and then her ladylike hands-- still soft despite the callouses she’d industriously made for herself over the last few months-- sliding along the bare skin of his belly, up over his ribs, raking through the trail of short, coarse hair curling there. He hadn’t noticed, either, that his other hand had left the relative safety of her waist and slid up her ribcage so that her movement had slipped the swell of one breast to be momentarily cupped in the span between forefinger and thumb. Arthur froze, unsure, pulling away from the kiss to watch the lady’s expression, the apology already on his tongue.

She laughed softly and shook her head, “Touch them. Touch everything. Whatever you want.”

“I… I didn’t want to presume--” It was amazing how fast her nimble little hand could move from the top of his chest to cupping his privates, skin to skin this time.

“Touch me. I’m going to touch you.”

Arthur needed no further encouragement. Both hands moved, seeking out the lines of her his pencil had all but memorized. He marveled again at how slender she seemed in his grasp. But his fingers sketched along the lines of lean muscle in her back and along her ribs before his thumbs sculpted lightly toward her sternum and he palmed both breasts through the silk and lace, noting their firmness and weight. He noted too, how breathless she seemed when he seized her mouth again.

Meanwhile her hand had circled his girth and was making long, smooth strokes. Fire churned in his guts while a groan scrambled gracelessly up his throat and through his mouth into hers.

“Breathe…” She reminded him with a soft kiss, so gentle and sweet he shivered under the kindness he knew in his bones he didn’t deserve. The knowledge kept the frustration at bay.

He breathed, trying desperately to turn his thoughts away from how badly the twisting, screaming knots in his guts wanted to release. He wasn’t a young man anymore! He had no business feeling this green! He was no blushing virgin, no wet-behind-the-ears whelp. He knew how to handle himself! He’d bedded women before!

… Well. Admittedly, he could count the amount of times on one hand. The amount of times sober were even fewer. He only remembered two of their names.

He’d never lain with any of them a second time. He’d never asked. They’d never offered…

Well. Except now here was Catherine-- three, that was three of them he remembered, now-- and here she had him full-aware that as he exited his mid-thirties that he had little more experience in loving a woman than he’d had as a young buck half that age.

What was he doing here? Wasting her ti--

She kissed him, suddenly hard and fiery, and pulled away just as abruptly, leaving him spinning while she rested her weight on his chest with her other forearm.

“Wandering off by yourself, Arthur?” She grinned at him, sly playfulness curling her lips as her hand gentled at his hair. Her grip remained firm at his cock, pumping faster.

She’d known. He wondered if it was his face that’d given him away? “‘M’sorry…”

“There are two buttons there on the front center of my combinations. Small and white. Maybe you’d like to undo them?”

“I… suppose-- I… Catherine…”

“Yes?”

“... I know I ain’t no good… You don’ have t’be nice about it…”

She blinked at him, something vaguely patient and amused in her expression, but something darker flickered in the shadows of her moonlight eyes, “...Few men are, sweetheart. I’m sure you tell each other differently. It’s like anything: it takes intention and practice if you want to do it well. It’s a skill you can learn and master, if you want to.”

“Is that right…?” He mumbled, but thinking about it, why would it be different from anything else?

“Don’t get all twisted up about what you ‘ought’ to be doing. You’re already doing everything I’ve asked you to,” She told him gently, tilting her face to one side to press a soft kiss over the scar on his chin, “The rest is just what you’d like to do. Would you like to see my breasts?”

“I… sure…”

“Then get those buttons I told you about open,” She smiled, “and you’ll get your chance.”

He chuckled, sliding his hands from where they’d been exploring the small of her spine up her sides and over her shoulders to meet at her chest, “My second chance, you mean..?”

In his peripheral as he sought out the little white buttons hidden in the lace, Arthur saw the lady’s fine eyebrows crash together and a small frown cinch her lips, red from kissing. He was about to remind her of the first occasion, amused that he remembered and she didn’t (though, given the circumstance, he supposed she could be forgiven for not remembering, how much pain she’d been in).

But then she blushed, “... Oh! I… I suppose you’re right…”

Arthur couldn’t help it. The quiet laughter was slipping out around his clenched jaws already. How silly. This proud lady not batting an eyelash at sharing her bed with a reprobate like him, her hand stroking him iron hard, but embarrassed at the recollection that he’d already seen her bare breasts in an occasion she barely recollected. How needlessly complex the modesty of a lady! Cupping her lovely face with a hand, he kissed her again, slow and warm, in the hopes of mollifying the tightening lines of ire around her pale eyes.

The buttons gave him something to concentrate on, besides breathing steady and the awareness that he was completely unworthy to be where he was, doing what he was doing. They were tiny and round, and slipped easily out of his shaking fingers. But there were only two of them, thankfully, and then the silk and lace split in the center in a slender ‘V’ of pale skin over her sternum all the way to her waist. If he pushed the material to both sides, opening it further, it would reveal her chest fully, just as she’d said.

Steady. Breathe. With a gentle touch, he parted the opening on one side, sliding his fingers over the top of her breast, above the budding, rosy nipple. Gooseflesh rose at the brush of his fingertips, and it was that that forced another groan around his clenched teeth. That and how Catherine’s hand had slowed, wringing fire through his guts with long, firm, deliberate strokes.

“Pretty soon, I think…” She murmured above his head as he buried his face in that widened ‘V’ of exposed skin to press more heated kisses, his other arm wrapping around her back. She moved then, within his grasp, sliding a leg over her arm and his waist, so that she was no conger half-reclined at his right, but now all but sitting astride him. Her fingers returned to his hair, guiding him with her as she sat back, so he could continue to press kisses, dropping his free elbow behind him to support his weight, “... Arthur, do you want me to take you in me?”

“Huh?” Slowly, he tilted his head back to look at her. Blood was roaring in his ears, so he wasn’t sure he’d heard, much less understood her, clearly.

“I’m sure I could fit you, if you wanted...”

“‘Fit’ me?”

“Well, if this other woman could, I don’t see why I couldn’t try…”

Oh. His teeth ground together, struggling to keep his focus. Steady. Breathe. Just the thought of being inside Miss Catherine-Louise Schofield had him shuddering at the brink of his control.

It must have shown on his face, again, “I’ll be careful. If it’s what you want.”

It was. Christ Almighty, it was, he realized. There wasn’t anything at all wrong with what magic she was working with her hand, and even though it had him half-spooked what might happen-- what consequences might crash in on them-- Arthur wanted her core clenched around him and her arms wrapped around his neck, riding him into the sunrise, drinking the breath from his lungs with her kisses.

It’s what he’d wanted since the time he’d seen her bent over Dutch’s little table, eyes and expression infinitely distant. Not like now, where there was something quiet and warm in her small smile, and her eyes were alert, focused, and shone with pleasure-- at him or just herself, he couldn’t tell. He nodded, jaw aching from the force he was putting on it.

“Alright. Give me just a moment…”

Her hand changed over his cock, and she shifted again, exhaling steadily, the focused expression intensifying on her face. It was then that Arthur understood fully what she’d said and what she was doing. He was not alone in the observation that she was so slender and delicate compared to him. Also, it seemed her ‘combinations’ split in the middle, because he could feel the brush of her skin and then the moist kiss of her labia...

“D-darlin’, don’t hurt yourself---fffnnn…” Wet heat enveloped the sensitive head of his manhood, where it was met with resistance. But not even a moment later, Catherine exhaled, and inch by glorious inch, he was wrapped up by her body as he slid deeper inside her. Their eyes locked, and something that had started growing up from his loins bloomed in Arthur’s chest, warm and bright, and his only recourse was to pull her against him, cupping her face with a hand to kiss her.

“...Y’alright?” He whispered, feeling the tension in her neck and shoulders.

She nodded, her smile somewhat wry, “... Yes. You?”

“Yes,” He chuckled, resting his forehead against hers, “You’re incredible, darlin’...” He meant it. A part of him was shocked by how much he did mean it.

“Oh, I know better, Mister Morgan,” She teased with a playful smile, pressing her hands against his shoulders to lay him back and giving her hips an experimental roll while still gripping him tightly within herself. Arthur’s mind reeled with pleasure and threatened to buckle entirely, “A man is always so full of compliments in the bedroom…”

He had no reply, but found his hands in the place where her waist blended into her hips, and he struggled against the urge to grip hard. He didn’t want to leave bruises. He didn’t want to hurt her. Especially not while she was making him feel so amazingly good. She moved again, setting up a languid, relaxed rhythm, and it was simplicity itself to match her, rolling his hips up to meet hers while she rode him. Inside, each stroke seemed to drive him deeper and infinitely deeper into her softness, with heat matching what swelled inside himself, while she squeezed around him just strong enough to be felt. He ached for release, and bit it back. His fingers twitched needily into her flesh.

When he broke their shared rhythm with a low groan and a curse, Catherine only smiled and adjusted to meet him at this faster, decidedly much more desperate one.

“Come on then,” she said gently, resting more of her weight on her hands at his shoulders and arching her back to free her hips and legs, “come on.”

Arthur’s mind did buckle then, and his hands grew rougher, pulling her down onto him as he bucked up into her, even as she rolled her lower half to meet his thrusts. His eyes drank in the way her firm breasts bounced as if to echo each slap of flesh meeting flesh, and the flushed skin across her face and down her throat. The way her kiss-swollen lip had been drawn between her teeth, just a little. Her moonlight eyes locked on his face, watching him watch her through a glaze of lust and ecstasy. Admiring her work, perhaps?

Part of him liked it-- liked the idea of her examining and commanding him like a plaything, her plaything-- and he shuddered deep inside at the thrill. But another part didn’t like it at all-- didn’t like how it separated them so neatly-- because after all, if he was her plaything, didn’t that make her his plaything? Again, he was reminded of the glint of Dutch’s rings in the lamplight, and the dark, uncaring eyes. Of Catherine standing at the edge of the ridge with her hair blowing free in the wind, under the moonlight, confessing that she knew she was being used, and had been raised to accept it.

No. It wasn’t like that.

Surging up, he moved both hands, one to reach back and support him, the other to pull her in to meet his kiss, deep and hard, as if through it he might communicate what she meant to him, and what them together like this meant to him, in a way he’d never find words for. By force of necessity, their rhythm adjusted once more, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and ground herself against him.

“What’s wrong?” She whispered. Instead of answering, he dropped his mouth under her jaw, pressing a line of heated, open-mouth kisses.

She clenched around him, and he shivered, the rest of his willpower beginning to rapidly crumble, “C-Catherine…”

“I know.” Was her gentle response, “Whenever you’re ready. Shall I come off of you?”

No. Yes.

Yes, definitely. No matter how much he wanted to stay buried in her and tangled up in her for the rest of his days…

It seemed only an instant passed, and yet it was an instant that stretched a thousand years, but he was freed from the confines of her core, only to be nestled securely between their bodies, burning like a brand between their bellies. He hardly had space to acknowledge the transition before the fire spilled over inside him, and he shuddered his release with a groan into the side of her throat while the world flashed blinding white for another too-short eternity.

Then it passed, and like every other time before it, the self-conscious shame crashed in through every window and door, chasing tension through his spine and limbs and twisting sour illness through his guts. Just what in this whole damn world did he think gave him the right to--

“Shh.” Catherine’s gentle admonishment was accompanied by her fingers dragging through his hair, nails gently running against his scalp so that he wanted to arch into it like a great cat. “Whatever you’re thinking just now: stop it. Everything is fine. You conducted yourself commendably. You’re a lovely man and it was a pleasure to lie with you.”

Closing his eyes, Arthur breathed in the wildflower scent of her skin, noting the heady, musky smell of sex that joined it, “... If you say so…”

“I do say so. Should we lie down properly again so you can get some sleep, now?”

Exhaustion was pulling at him with a strong, steady draw, “... Suppose we ought to… Did I make a mess?”

“Only a bit, sweetheart. It’ll wipe up easy enough. Let me get my handkerchief over there…”

She wiped up his bare belly, and the bit of her silk and lace that had been spattered, assuring him that it would wash out fine, before wiping clean his sensitive manhood that was rapidly tucking itself back into its foreskin. Then, tossing away the soiled handkerchief again with a smile, the lady laid him down and snuggled up against him once more. It seemed to Arthur he fell soundly asleep the moment her hand returned to the center of his chest, like it might be a millstone plunging him into the dreamless waters of oblivion.

He woke slowly, hearing the impatient, not-too-distant stamping of horses, hungry for breakfast and the scarce twitterings of birds that opted to linger during the winter months. But it was movement that had drawn him to wakefulness, and his eyes opened to discover Miss Schofield attempting to slip out from under his arm.

“Mornin’...” He offered in a thick whisper, causing her to turn her head, giving him a horrifyingly embarrassed look before covering it with a warm smile, whispering back,

“Good morning. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you…”

“‘S alright…” Indeed, he was feeling admittedly better than he had in weeks, and it was…

… It was really nice to see her first thing in the morning, a little rumpled and soft before she put herself together in her layers and pins for the day.

“... Suppose I should get up an’ dressed anyway before someone asks why the horses ain’t fed yet…”

“Assuming they don’t notice your tent is empty…?” She prompted with a smile.

“Ah… yeah.” He wasn’t too worried. The camp was quiet. It must still be early enough nobody else was awake, “... You want we should keep this to ourselves?”

Her smile widened, “As opposed to shouting from the top of the wagons how we spent our evening? I don’t think that’s either of our way…”

“Well, no… I mean…” He furrowed his brow, unable to fight the amused smile, “I just… I dunno if you want them findin’ out you laid down with sour ol’ Arthur…”

She slapped a hand to her cheek, feigning horror, “Oh my Heavens, you’re right! They might just start thinking I’m some sly Jezebel! Some faithless, Godless, shameless whore!”

Scowling, he sat up, taking hold of both wrists and pulling them toward him, firmly in his seriousness, but not rough, “Now, that’s enough of that sort of talk. You know what I mean…”

“No, Arthur, really. You’re the one with a reputation to lose. I’m already soiled goods--”

“--Now stop that, I mean it, Catherine.”

She sighed and leaned forward, kissing him on the corner of his chin, “So do I. The men respect you. I don’t know how much that might change if they know. I don’t care what they think of me, but I know this gang is very important to you.”

Arthur, for his part, was fairly certain they wouldn’t believe him even if he did let slip what had happened. He hardly believed it, himself.

“... We’ll just… see what happens, then. I guess.”

“Alright.”

Turning and beginning the process of buttoning up his union suit again so he could put his clothes back on, Arthur supposed it hadn’t been such a terrible idea after all.

(There are two things I want to mention here: a) UH... I'm not very experienced in writing publishable smut, so I'm sorry if it's awkward... >>; b) I know there are some rumblings in the fandom complaining about Arthur 'being written as blushing virgin' [as opposed to the more popular/common portrayal of him being a sex god, able to satisfy all our thirsty desires], but I headcanon that he's just... not very experienced. I know that's not as sexy, and I'm sorry if it's not your jam... If it's any consolation, he'll get more notches in his belt as the story goes on. [And in theory so will I...?])

#my mic #rdr2 fic #red dead redemption 2 fic #arthur morgan #ao3fic #revolver fic

2 notes · View notes

caelestis-aurumxv · 5 years

Text

FFXV’s Scenario 01: ‘When they steal you a kiss’ Prompto Ver.

—Good morning…—you murmured, rubbing one of your eyes.

—Good morning, ___________—Noctis answered, sitting in the living room with the other guys—It seems you didn’t sleep very well.

—On the contrary…—you shook your head, taking the seat next to Gladio—I slept very, very, very well.

—You see? I told you that you would feel the difference between a motel bed and a hotel bed—Prompto smiled, crossing his arms.

—The Altissia Hotel is a different thing than the Lestalleum Hotel—Gladio said, looking at every detail of the walls.

—But that doesn’t mean that is a bad hotel…—Noctis spoke, defending the Lestalleum hotel.

—Okay, let’s not get into discussion—Prompto shook his head and arms—Iggy, our itinerary today?

—Well…—the man with the glasses began to say, checking his mobile phone—We have two days before Noctis has his negotiation with Mrs. Camelia

—That lady doesn’t give me any security…—Gladio commented.

—She’s protecting her capital—Noct shrugged—Anyway, does that mean we can explore Altissia?

—Indeed—Ignis answered, revealing a small curve in his mouth—It’s my moment to buy ingredients of a different quality…

—You look pretty excited —Gladio commented—Well, then… will we be all day together?

—I think that we can eat together and then everyone goes wherever he wants—Prompto said.

—It’s a good idea…I’ll see if I can fish from a gondola—Noctis said and everyone laughed in their ways.

—I don’t think you can do that, you’ll have to pay a lot to the main in charge—you said, laughing at the king’s ideas.

—Well, I’m the King of Insomnia, he should leave me—with that he said, everyone started making noises, and Ignis sighed for that comment.

—That is completely abuse of power—Gladio said.

—You should be ashamed Noctis Lucis Caelum—Prompto threatened laughing.

—What would your father say about you, Noct?—you disapproved, shaking your head.

—Ok, ok… Let’s go to Maagho—said the King before you continued to bother him.

Altissia was really beautiful, it was something you shouldn’t recognize, because you saw it. The crystal clear water everywhere, the jewelry stalls, the floating shops, the gondolas… It was just wonderful; you loved it.

Traveling in a gondola was one of the best parts of begin in the capital, besides seeing how people walked enjoying the beauty that surrounded them, you always liked to observe other people and in a moment you saw yourself trapped by the aura of those four guys who had a couple of time traveling with you. Great friends and companions.

—Hey, ___________, are you here?—Gladio called you, then you reacted to shake your head, you had been watching them for a long time.

—I-I…. was… spacing out?—You asked a little nervous, beginning to blush.

—You are blushing!—Prompto said, pointing your face.

—Leave her…—Noctis defend you, hitting Prompto on the head.

—I, I was… just watching you, and then… I thought how much I like to share with you guys, you are a treasure for me—you began to say, looking at each of the boys and giving them a bright smile.

—W-Woah… —Gladiolus only made that sound—It’s the cutest thing that someone has said to me ever.

—Are you serious?!—Noctis exclaimed mockingly.

—I’m sorry, your majesty—Gladio rolled his eyes—People didn’t praise me every day.

—Gladio…—Ignis murmured arranging his glasses.

—Ok, ok… —the big boy grumbled—After eating with you guys, I’ll stay at the bar.

—My idea of fishing from a gondola stills—Noctis said.

—I’ll look for some small things—you said, after all you were a girl and you loved to have some accessories.

They were all naming parts of the landscape that attracted their attention, creating a tourist atmosphere, however, the boy with freckles seemed absorbed in looking at your profile that was watching the citizens of Altissia, he pressed his camera in his hand just for a moment. I knew he could take a picture of you and that you wouldn’t be angry, but what bothered him was the fact that he hadn’t take a photograph of your smile.

—Prompto? What will you do?—the cook asked to the photographer.

—E-Eh? … I think I’ll for some new parts for my camera, or some old-vintage cameras—the boy answered, quickly returning to reality.

—Oh! Then you can come with me—you said, taking the shoulder of the boy who turned to see you and nodded, giving you a small smile.

—You must be careful; we don’t know if we are safe here—Gladio warned.

—Ah, I hope so… I must say I’m a little tired—Noctis commented and then yawned, then everyone in the gondola yawned.

—Woah, it really is mirror—Prompto said laughing.

—We’ve arrived…—Ignis interrupted.

Going to Maagho was something more homey and magical, besides being almost under the structures of the city, it was also floating, rather it was like a small port, but that didn’t take away the interesting. Weskham always received them cordially, willing to give them information of the places where they could find things they needed. It was a cozy place, where they could eat while listening to the stories of the host and cook of the post.

—I could do this when we camp…—Ignis murmured, while looking at the plate of the ‘Fettini di Cernia’

—It seems so delicate—Prompto murmured, then grabbed his camera and took a picture, but he almost drops it when he hears a sound, better said a sound from your mouth.

—Hey, hey! Hahahahaha—Gladio started to laugh—_______, watch out to make those noises here, people could misinterpret it.

—W-What? It was very loud?—You asked, feeling like your face was slowly turning red.

—If you take a man to sleep with you and make a sound like that, surely the man will be doing his work very well—Weskham said, making everyone bursts out laughing, except you, who only managed to get more and more red.

—I’m sorry…—you apologized, looking down—It’s because is so delicious.

—Don’t panic—Noctis covered his smile with one of his hands—Your culinary orgasm is safe with us.

—Forget it, please—you begged, eating another portion of the dish, and this time covering your mouth immediately.

—___________, you’re one in a million, really!—Gladio let out a laugh.

—Il will be difficult to do it—Prompto commented laughing.

—Dude, sometimes you sound so perverted—Noctis said, and the now the laughter went against the blond one.

—Enough, I didn’t say it was that intention!—Prompto claimed, red to the ears.

—Calm down Prompto, it doesn’t bother me, at all…—you said with a smile, hoping that they stopped bothering the boy—I’m neither the first nor the last girl that you will listen.

And they all lowered their heads with a red tone on their cheeks, the boys have never had the opportunity to talk about those things in your presence, it’s still like a taboo subject when you’re present.

—Well, Weskham, thank you very much for the food…I’ll start walking, Altissia is very big and I have a lot to bargain with—you said, leaving your seat and placing a couple of guiles on the table—There’s my money.

—Oh! W-Wait, ___________!—Prompto took a quick sip of his glass of juice and let it behind with some money, catching you in the gondola harbor.

—We’ll communicate! —Gladio shouted in your direction, both of you raised your thumbs.

Again you were in a gondola, and you couldn’t feel more absorbed in this amazing scenery; the light had gone down and the lanterns were starting to light little by little, it was time for the night to come. Everything in Altissia seemed to become even more beautiful when the lights appeared, the reflections of the streetlights made it seem that the water under the gondola was similar to a sea of fireflies.

The beauty of Altissia always blinded you from the other, to see how some blue eyes looked at you and every detail of your person, from head to toe. Prompto knew you were a pretty girl, but seeing the lights of Altissia enhanced your beauty and caused havoc in him. From your smile early today, the culinary orgasm you had, to the beauty and delicacy of your profile. Obviously, he wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to take a couple of photos, but he hears Noctis’s words echoed in his head.

—…Hey, _________—Prompto pronounced your name, with a different tone of voice—About what Noct said…

—Did it really affect you?—You asked turning to see the blond boy, he lowered his head—Let’s see…—and the you approached the boy and took a seat next to him—It didn’t bother me, seriously, there are things that… sometimes girls likes to ear.

—Really?—Prompto asked raising his eyebrows and opening his eyes wide.

—Yeah, of course… And the fact that you said that you won’t be able to forget my sound, makes me feel confident, but sh… It’s a secret—You whispered at the final, winking and placing your finger over your lips—You can’t tell anyone.

—O-Ok… I won’t—he stutters a little, and thanks to the moment when the gondola goes under a bridge, the blonde and his blushes went completely unnoticed for you.

—We have arrived—said the gondolier.

Your journey through Altissia began in the stores that had appliances, some had treasures that were very valuable, antique vases with gold details, silver frames, antique mirrors, vinyl players… It was like traveling through time. However, Prompto had not found any old camera, or spare parts. Although he wasn’t very upset about it either, because he occasionally took a photograph of some object he liked.

—What do you think?—You asked the blond guy, placing an open fan on your face, beginning to blink many times.

—A damsel—said Prompto, bowing in front of you, starting to follow your game.

—Oh, what a gentleman…—You followed, offering your hand to him, and as soon as Prompto knelt he left a kiss on the back of your hand.

You both laughed, thanking the vendor of the store, and then getting out of it and continuing with the search. Apparently there weren’t many cameras available for what you could see in the streets, but Prompto didn’t look annoyed or disappointed, in fact; He had a thousand photo to take in the streets of Altissia.

—Miss, sorry… Could you help me to see the map of the place?—and old and small woman asked, near you, interrupting your walk with Prompto.

—O-Oh… sure—you answered, then you take the arm of the blue-eyed boy—Prompto, I’ll be back soon… —You said suddenly, and the boy nodded, taking pictures again with his camera.

The lends worked perfectly despite the number of photos he had taken and the trips it had endured. The photos went one after the other, Altissia was a beautiful sector and that inspired Prompto even more to take more photos, until his camera stopped in front of a jewelry stand. And there he stayed, seeing a beautiful necklace. A blue diamond that looked like the living reflection of the Altissia sea.

On the other side, you were helping Mrs. Rosea, who had introduced herself. She explained that she was looking for a gift for her husband, who like gifts from ancient times, relics… And you remembered the shop that with Prompto had visited previously, it didn’t take long to find the store, as you were moving along the catwalks and stairs of Altissia. Mrs. Rosea seemed to hold the rhythm well, but equally you waited for her or slowed your steps.

When you arrived at the store, you greeted the seller again, who was busy with some boxes, you didn’t want to bother him and took the little old woman to see the items you had previously checked with your blond friend, and when the seller saw you were approaching the sector where he was, he stopped you with his hand then he took your arm.

—W-What happens?—You asked a little scared by his reaction.

—I have something for you—the salesman said, dedicating a smile.

It passed about thirty minutes, your breath was broken while you run between the streets and the people of Altissia, you really hoped that Prompto hadn’t been far away, because finding him it would be only possible by talking on the phone. But to your relief, when you were almost arriving at another gondola port, you saw him. There he was, looking at the Altissia sea from that port, with his hands in his pockets.

—Prompto, I’m sorry!—You apologized with a nervous smile.

—Oh, ________! Finally you arrive, I thouth I’d see you again at the hotel—the blond boy said, only taking one hand out of his pockets—Did you help her?

—Take it! TA-DAH!—You exclaimed, showing in front of him a model of a camera ALPA 12 SAW, a relic of the year 1942.

And Prompto’s eyes shone like those of a child at Christmas when he was the object in your hands, before being able to take that piece of art, he hastened to leave something inside his pocket, and as if his life depended on it he hurried to take the camera, it seemed that his finger caressed it with love and respect.

—You can have a photographic orgasm right now—You said to annoy him and he showed his teeth in a smile—It comes with a bag to carry it.

—Really, thank you very much… How many guiles did it cost?—And after that question you shook your head—Oh, come on… You must have pay a fortune.

—We will take about it later, because I think it’s time to go, we’ve seen many things… although I didn’t find any kind of necklace, but Mrs. Rosea was very nice and cute—You related to Prompto, who was now putting the camera inside the matching bag.

—Wait a moment, I also have something for you—Prompto interrupted, showing the palms of his hands in front of your face, stopping your actions and your words.

You didn’t say anything until the freckled boy did his part, when the boy took from his pocket that necklace with a drop-shaped diamond, with a color as blue as the sea of Altissia and as blue as… his own eyes, you were completely speechless. You only covered your mouth with both hands.

—T-Thank you, really… It’s beautiful—You said, looking that masterpiece in Prompto’s hands.

—May I…?—Prompto asked, and his gestures made you understand what he had said.

You proceeded to take your hair, removing it from your neck to make a kind of tail that you held with your right hand.

—Are you really sure about this?—Prompto was a little nervous, you nodded.

—Come on, nothing bad will happen…—You muttered, revealing your naked neck when you turned on your feet in front of the boy, showing your back.

The cold of the diamond hit your skin gently when the boy managed to position the collar on the top of your torso, finally using extreme care to close the clasp, causing a rubbing between his fingers and your skin. And that caused a chill in you.

—…Come on, let me see it—Prompto said, expectantly.

—Are you going to take a picture…?—you asked, turning slowly, finding a boy who was now taking over his camera again, to take a picture of you.

—Make sure to s…—he was saying, until he raised his gaze and there he found your smile with closed eyes, the same one that you had given to the four of them earlier that day.

But this time you were blushing and he can see that.

Prompto could feel the warmth of your cheeks as one of his hands reached your face, causing uncertainty in you, causing you to open your eyes to see how the boy’s eyelashes were showing off in front of you. The blond boy had closed his eyes and rather, now he was kissing you with the same delicacy that had previously showed, caressing the camera that you gave him, even more.

You could see how everything around you became slower, warmer, more proper as those lips were over yours, maybe it was the romantic atmosphere of Altissia, or just the tender touch of that boy who until now was kissing you, but the moment seemed to start cracking when Prompto opened his eyes and saw yours directly.

—Y-You took the picture?—Your question was a whisper when Prompto walked away. What a stupid question you though later.

—Something better…—the blond boy whispered—I caught the moment myself…

And then the phone rang for both of you, Ignis was calling you, and in the case of Prompto: Noctis. It was time to go back to the hotel. The boy clicked his tongue and the looked at you with his gift in your neck, the magic of Altissia helped him to be a little braver. And he was happy with that, for now.

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

Yessss, i ended my first scenario pack. So, i’ll wait if someone wants an specific one, or if nothings happens... I’ll bring you a new one, I have some ideas now, but I have to write them...

But, anyways, thank you for reading, Prompto is my bias, so his scenarios will be always the last, because I need to focus on the others too.

Reblog, like if you want and follow me for more fanfics <3

#prompto #prompto argentum #ffxv #final fantasy xv #ffxv fanfiction #ffxv drabble #ffxv one-shot #ffxv scenarios #one-shot #fanfiction #drabble #scenario #final fantasy #ff #ffxv prompto #ff prompto

13 notes · View notes

lostinfic · 5 years

Text

3. Singapore, summer

Summary: She writes for magazines about luxurious resorts in exotic places and five-star hotels in glamorous cities. He’s photographed devastated war zones, refugee camps and child soldiers. For both of them travel is an escape, but he’s had enough of this grim reality, and she’s had enough of this disconnected fantasy. Perhaps together they can find something in between, something real, and stop running from themselves. Each season, a new destination and a chance to grow closer.

Pairing: Alec Hardy x Hannah Baxter Rating: Mature~ish (for now) Word count: 2.9k

Prologue | Chap. 1 | 2 | Ao3

Airports are liminal spaces. A limbo of travelers, where one is simultaneously on vacation and not yet, or not anymore. Places of transition, between familiar and foreign, between reality and fantasy. Intermediate structures designed to efficiently direct the flow of resigned travelers and make them spend as much money as possible.

Hannah stood still and let the moving walkway take her in the right direction. The rhythmic thump of the metal plates blended with the white noise of announcements in English, Mandarin and Malay.

Between ads for designer perfume, slim windows offered a glimpse of the purple dusk settling over the runway. Airplane windows multiplied the sunset. Little lights dotted the black tarmac and twinkled evenly.

Every trip lingered like a ghost, following her all the way home. An unidentifiable yet recognizable scent on her clothes, a melody in her head, a taste she would seek out again, but never truly find.

Indonesia, she suspected, would linger even longer.

After Pulau Kesuma, Hannah had explored other parts of the country. But a nagging doubt, sowed in her mind by Alec Hardy, prevented her from entirely enjoying her trip. Every hotel she’d stayed at, especially in Bali, she feared had been set up in the same manner as the Mahal Kita. She noticed details she hadn’t before. These questions were most inconvenient as Hannah endeavored to see only the positive, the fun and beautiful things in life and share them with her readers and followers.

It would have been easier to dismiss these thoughts, hadn’t she looked up Hardy. He was credible, to say the least. A photojournalist featured in every respected periodicals, twice nominated for a Pulitzer prize. A well-traveled man, exposing injustice around the world one picture at a time. His most famous photograph depicted a woman setting herself on fire in the name of freedom. She wondered how he slept at night.

She’d hoped leaving Indonesia meant leaving him behind too, as well as her doubts and mistrust.

But fate had other plans in store.

He was here, in Changi airport, walking just a stone’s throw ahead of her. She recognized his beat-up camera bag, and his scruffy profile confirmed her suspicion. “Fuck.” Hannah turned on her heels and bumped into a pair of glaring, elderly sisters. She couldn’t walk twenty feet in the wrong direction on the moving walkway. Resigned, she faced the right way again, and, of course, that’s when Hardy noticed her. He nodded curtly.

A long, awkward travelator journey followed during which they pretended to look at anything other than each other, but their eyes met a few times.

She’d caught a flight out of Bali with a layover in Singapore. Hardy must have flown in from Jakarta or Sumatra, and would take the same connecting flight to London.

At the end of the moving walkway, she adjusted her pace to stay a few steps behind him. He put a stop to this nonsense and waited for her to catch up to him.

“You’re still alive, then,” she said by way of greeting.

“I’m very resilient.” They resumed walking towards their gate. “I thought you’d left already. I didn’t see you again at the hotel.”

“Did you look for me?”

He shrugged but he could have been just hiking his bag higher on his shoulder.

Hardy cursed ant she followed his gaze to the departure board: their flight was delayed. Technical difficulty, an airline employee informed them, no idea how long it would take, hours most likely.

Hardy and Hannah sighed and looked at each other.

“Well, there are worse airports to be stuck at,” she said.

“Aye. Gatwick,” he said just as Hannah was naming that airport too.

“Ever been to Qatar? That airport is…”

“A bloody maze,” he said.

They shared a tentative chuckle. Given how they’d left things last time, she hadn’t expected they soon would be completing each other’s sentences.

She nervously swiped her hair away from her face. He winced at the fading bruise on her jaw left by his camera. She suddenly wished he’d touch it again.

“I… I’ve never seen the waterfall here,” he said, looking at his shoes.

“Me neither.”

“Would you…?” He tilted his head in the general direction of the famous indoor waterfall.

“Sure.”

Hardy and Hannah walked past the restaurants, shops, massage chairs and a movie theater on their way to the indoor forest. Many species of palms and flowers grew on five levels leading to a glass and steel dome that reminded her of the British Museum ceiling. The air was moist like in a greenhouse. Sprinklers hissed between the plants. It was night, so lights were dim, only art installations brightened the space: crystal clouds, silver birds, iridescent raindrops.

As they neared the heart of the forest, the waterfall came into view. The world’s tallest indoor waterfall, they called it the Vortex. The ceiling dipped like a funnel and water cascaded down into a pool. Gently phasing colors and shapes were projected onto it.

Jaw slack, Hannah stared. It was simply stunning. She took out of her phone. Now that was something worth posting about.

After a few photos, Hardy sighed impatiently beside her, and when he couldn’t take it anymore, he said, “you’re doing it wrong.” He placed his hands over hers to guide the lens at a better angle. “You want to frame it like that, about two thirds of the photo. And you want to catch the light here. Like that.”

“If you’re so good at it, why don’t you take them yourself? With me in them.”

She tucked her chin in her shoulder and smiled at him with fluttering eyelashes.

He rolled his eyes but agreed.

First she checked herself in a pocket mirror, fluffed her hair, wiped off flecks of mascara. “I look like shit.”

“Nah, you’re… okay.”

“Oh, thanks a lot,” she said sarcastically.

Hannah smiled at the camera and posed for a few more pictures where she gazed in the distance, exposing her best profile. Hardy demonstrated his professionalism, she wanted more photos from him, but decided not to test the limits of his patience.

“Why do you want pictures of that?” he asked when she took back her phone.

“Because it’s beautiful and unique. Why aren’t you taking any?” she replied. “I could pretend to be dying next to it. That’s more your style, isn’t it?” He frowned. She nudged him with her elbow. “Oh, c’mon, it’s a joke. Loosen up.”

He buried his hands in his pockets and shook his head slowly.

“People tell you that all the time, don’t they?” she said softly.

“Aye.”

Hannah averted her eyes and fiddled with the strap of her purse. She hadn’t meant to insult him, in fact, she knew the feeling of constantly being told some “truth” by others.

“You know what I always get?” she began. “My friends say I don’t have a real job, that I don’t live in the real world.”

“I get that too.”

“Right? I mean, it’s not true. I’ve deadlines, and bills, I’ve even got a fucking life insurance. Traveling is the real world.”

Hardy nodded emphatically. “We see more of the bloody real world than them.”

“Yeah!” She smiled, glad they were hitting it off again. “Hey, did you ever find out what was in that building on the beach?”

As they walked up to the second floor, Hardy explained he met a man who used to be in the Navy and participated in the eviction of the families. That man had claimed the building was nothing more than a break room for the security guards. They might have stored booze there, but nothing more scandalous.

Hannah almost said, “good thing you didn’t kill yourself for that,” but knew better this time.

She had kept investigating too, after their night on the beach. But she hesitated to tell him because he might laugh at her strategy.

Hardy expressed some doubts about the man’s testimony, he’d heard rumors of holding cells and weapon storage, but he had no proof. “Can’t demand justice without photographic evidence.”

“Are you disappointed,” she asked.

He leaned on his elbows, on the banister, and looked at a janitor sweeping the floor below. Blue light passed over his features, undulating, as if he was underwater. After a moment, he said, “It’s complicated… helping people.”

She leaned on the banister too, next to him. He stared in the middle distance. She thought he would say more, she wanted him to. She wanted to know why he did it if it was so complicated.

“I kept investigating too,” she admitted, hoping it would cheer him up.

“Did you?”

“I went into town to find the bar where the staff hung out.”

“By yourself?”

“Yeah.”

She was quite chuffed that she’s succeeded to impress him, or at least surprise him.

At this local bar, she met a receptionist, Irene, she’d already befriended at the hotel. She was out with other girls who worked at the Mahal Kita. Hannah paid for food and beverages and asked questions that Irene translated. Two of them had witnessed the armed men evicting families. But they had more to say, namely on the new opportunities the hotel presented to these young women. Jobs other than fishermen's wives, meeting different people, learning another language…

“They’ll change their minds soon enough,” he commented.

Hannah rolled her eyes.

“I know, I know,” he said. “It’s another side of the story. One I didn’t get. Well done, Baxter.”

“Don’t look so pained,” she teased, bumping him with her shoulder.

“Are you going to write about it in your article for Elite Travelers?”

“Of course, my readers expect an honest review.”

“You think your magazine will let you?”

“Yes!”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

He pushed himself off the banister with a groan.

They meandered through the indoor forest, along cobblestone trails that snaked and climbed around the waterfall, between ferns and shrubs. The place was quiet. Once in a while, they crossed other awaiting travelers who wandered around like lost souls. In the near-dark, their phones cast an eerie glow over their faces. Some had found a quiet spot to nap.

Hannah barely noticed them. She even forgot to takes pictures.

As keen travelers are wont to do, she and Hardy exchanged anecdotes from their trips: he was arrested during a protest in Ukraine, she was attacked by a cuddly manta ray in Hawaii, he met the Dalai Lama purely by accident in a bathroom, she sang karaoke with Sylvester Stallone in Tokyo.

“You didn’t,” Hannah said.

“I did.”

“Nooo! You ate monkey balls?”

He shrugged, biting back a smile. “Not that bad. Mind you, my people invented Haggis.”

Hannah laughed. “And all that to see a cave. Was it worth it?”

“Aye. I was the first photographer ever down there. Got me on the cover of Nat Geo.”

“Wow, you must’ve been proud.”

Before she knew it, two hours had passed, her cheeks hurt from laughing, and she couldn’t remember why she’d ever thought him rude.

As annoying as this delay was, she was glad they were stuck together in Singapore. It seemed like neither of them was in a hurry to get back to London.

They’d reached the fifth and last floor. Here there was a park with slides and topiaries shaped like animals and cartoon characters. No child played there at this late hour, and only a few adults had come all the way up. One of the attractions was a long net crossing over the indoor forest like a rope bridge.

Hannah wasn’t normally prone to vertigo, but the net bounced with each step. She grasped Hardy’s shirt to steady herself. He claimed he had seen worse, but she didn’t miss the way he reached for the handrail.

They were in stitches before they’d even crossed halfway. Hannah fell, and fatigue hit her suddenly. She lay on her back. Little tremors of laughter still shook her chest. Hardy sat down next to her. The net cocooned her like a hammock, with the noise of the waterfall and the night sky visible through the glass ceiling, she could almost believe they were somewhere exotic. Almost. An announcement over the PA system disturbed the illusion.

“Any news from the airline?” she asked.

They both checked their phones for messages and the airline app. Still delayed.

Hardy crossed his arms behind his head, and she caught a whiff of his pine-scented deodorant. His ribs rose under his t-shirt with every breath. At first glance, with his scruff, he looked abrasive, but she was starting to know better. He smiled at her, and she became aware of something shifting in the air. She felt it deep within her, a warm tension, and her breath caught in her throat.

“Do you have someone waiting for you in London?” he asked. “A boyfriend or…”

“No. Who has time for that?”

”This job will do it to you.”

“I supposed. I haven’t found a man who can handle what I do. Eventually they all want to tie me down to one place… I take it you’re free too.”

“Divorced.”

“Good.”

“Is it?”

“I was just thinking there might be something else we could do to pass the time…” She caressed a spot of skin exposed above his belt.

“Er, I… you— what?”

“Sex.”

“Now?” He looked at the open space around them. “I don’t think…”

Her face flushed with embarrassment and she sat up.

“Yeah, ok, no, don’t worry. Just asking for a friend.”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

Hannah was saved from further embarrassment when both their mobiles rang. Two seats were available on a flight to London if they could make it to gate 56 quickly.

They struggled to get up on the net, but once on solid ground, they scampered off towards Terminal 2.

They made it in time, and the attendant handed them their tickets after they’d shown their passports. Hannah walked behind Hardy along the bland corridor leading to the airplane, then down the rows of seats, and it quickly became clear that they would be sitting side by side.

For fourteen hours.

Fourteen hours to ruminate on why he’d turned her down.

Sure they would have missed this flight, but they could be shagging right now. She glanced at her watch. In fact, she could be orgasming right now. Her eyes slid over to him, to his knee and the long fingers tapping nervously on it, then up his leg and, yes, she did look at his crotch.

“D’you mind?” His voice was a mixture of irritation and amusement. Mostly amusement.

“Are you gay?”

He rolled his eyes and opened his laptop.

“Sorry.”

“I’m… flattered. Just not an exhibitionist.”

“What, you think I wanted to do it up there on the nets? There’s a hotel in the airport.”

“Oh.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah.”

“So if I were to say, meet me in the loo in two minutes, you’d say no?”

She paused, eyes flitting to the back of the plane, but then he smirked, telling her it was all a joke. She shoved him.

“You’re so full of it.”

The plane started moving up the runway, faster and faster, until it took off. Hundreds of flights, and she still loved that airborne feeling.

They flew over the glass dome of the indoor forest. On the porthole glass, she saw Hardy’s reflection also looking out at the shrinking skyline of Singapore. Did he feel the same bittersweet nostalgia for a place they’d only just left?

He leaned on the armrest, towards her.

“Will you ever come back?” she whispered without taking her eyes off the window.

“Dunno… there are so many places to see.”

Just as Hannah crossed the doorstep of her flat, her phone pinged with new emails. She dropped her luggage and checked it immediately.

One email, from her editor, Duncan, urged her to send the article on Pulau Kesuma as soon as possible so they could celebrate her promotion to senior writer. “If the article is good enough ;)”

The second one, was from the communications director at Group Peregrine. Reading the email, she understood that company owned the Mahal Kita resort. They loved what she had done with social media during her stay and were already reaping the benefits. So, they wanted to create a partnership and send her to their resorts all around the world. “Namibia, Costa Rica, Fiji… where would you like to go first, Ms Baxter?”

A wide grin spread on her lips, and she bounced on her feet. A little squeak of joy escaped her throat.

A promotion and a partnership, now that was worth coming back to London for. Time to pop the champagne and buy a new suitcase. Already, she scanned her mental atlas for a new destination.

She was so excited, she needed to tell someone. She scrolled through her contacts: Ben was still sulking, she skipped her mother and sister, her father would be happy for her but still didn’t quite understand her job, Bambi she hadn’t spoken to since her wedding, Duncan maybe. She stopped at Alec Hardy (they’d exchanged contact information before parting ways). His questions about the magazine popped to the forefront of her mind: who paid them? Would they let her write the truth about the resort?

Hannah’s mood did a 180. Her stomach sank and her smile wavered. If he was right, exposing the truth about the resort could cost her this partnership and promotion. Was it worth it?

With a big sigh, she rubbed a hand through her hair and sat on the edge of her bed.

She glanced at the stack of Elite Travelers in her bookcase, hundreds of glossy pages displaying lavish hotels, private villas and suitably-authentic lodges.

Would writing about it really change anything for the island anyway?

Chapter 4: England, summer

#teninch fic #Hardy x Hannah #Broadchurch #Alec Hardy #Hannah Baxter #secret diary of a call girl #travelers AU #slow burn #lostinfic writes stuff

20 notes · View notes

thegeminisage · 5 years

Text

merlin thots about the s5 opening episodes.......

here’s your courtesy cut

one of my favorite things about s5 so far is how very nicely arthur and merlin have both 1. grown up and 2. grown into each other...they still give each other shit 24/7 but it’s a lot more companionable and comfortable now than it ever has been. furthermore, both of them exhibit the use of MULTIPLE braincells even at the SAME TIME. they work very well together as a team even in the heat of battle (we did see shades of this near the end of s4), despite merlin being kind of useless at physical combat when he couldn’t rely on his magic for a boost. they can have entire conversations without a word and they’re just INCREDIBLY synchronized. the whole #vibe has really gotten a level up

timeline-wise, it’s been roughly a decade since season 1. in s1 they said the purge began 20 years ago (upon arthur’s birth), and shortly after, he had a coming of age ceremony - 21′s an important number, so in season 1 arthur began as being 20 and turned 21 before the end. season 2 = 22. gap year for s2-s3 = 23. season 3 = 24. s3-s4 gap year = 25. season 4 = 26. 3 gap years betweeen s4-s5 = 27, 28, 29. season 5 = 30. i don’t know how long it was in real life between seasons 4 and 5 (definitely not three years), but i really do feel like they’ve both aged SO much and they absolutely act like people who have known each other for a decade.

gwen as queen is AMAZINGNGLSDKJGHDSLFG she’s SO PRETTY i love her SO MUCH. love that she has her own serving girl now! this is what she deserves

the round table is good too altho it looks a bit too big for that room. it’s amazing though like...FUCK uther pendragon arthur has come SO FAR

merlin being nice to the new girl is very charming. makes him seem older and w-w-WISER (love that word) by comparison

also love that merlin gets to ride a horse while some of the footsoldiers walk. that’s #status. that’s *** ******

pretty sure i had a stroke during merlin’s vision of arthur’s death. the whole thing was done SO well - they go from the battlefield and arthur’s incredibly dirty face as he very realistically looks like he’s falling down and dying and then cut to a very alive and present arthur asking what’s wrong. you can really FEEL the whiplash, and also the dread settles in nice and deep, at least it does if you’re me and you’ve read spoilers, like, “only you can keep arthur safe” BUT I KNOW HE DOESN’T I KNOW HE CAN’T I KNOW HE FAILS and merlin might as well know it too because he looks ready to CRY and thru the rest of this 2-parter opening he acts like he thinks arthur may drop dead at any moment

i feel like i read somewhere once that actors don’t like to eat during a scene unless absolutely necessary because when you do 30 takes of something you get very full very quickly and some even go so far as to have a spit bucket just out of sight so that they can just get rid of it without having to eat any more. which makes it absolutely bananas to me that so often in merlin the characters are not only eating but eating very quickly as though they really have been roughing it in the wilderness all day & are absolutely famished...they don’t have to show them eating so often BUT THEY DO

arthur getting merlin into a tight spot by insisting he perform, planning on laughing at his failure? funny. merlin ACTUALLY USING MAGIC TO TEACH HIMSELF TO JUGGLE so that he could watch arthur’s jaw hit the floor? PRICELESS. i wonder how long it took him to do that, he definitely wasn’t using a body double

merlin is acting so bleak and dire in these episodes that even mr no-empathy himself asks him whats wrong, multiple times. they’re doing a VERY good job at really driving home the fact that arthur’s time is running short and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. merlin’s so sick with dread he’s making ME sick with dread. arthur’s here and being his normal dumbass self but the distance between them feels HUGE during the moments merlin is thinking about arthur’s impending doom

arthur all “i cant believe u can juggle i didnt even know you could catch” and then throwing the boots at merlin only for merlin to NOT CATCH THEM and arthur goes “see explain that” and merlin goes “wish i could” and i D I E

because he’s KNOWN HIM FOR A DECADE and he still can’t explain the magic and at this point it must feel like to him that he never, ever will UUUUUGH it’s funny how they can feel so close to each other one second and like THIS the next i am DYING

the little conversation they have when they make camp the next night is the same. the sad music plays, merlin keeps looking at arthur like it might be the last time he sees him, and arthur keeps insisting on asking merlin what’s wrong and trying to make him feel better...they’re really for real friends!!! they’re so serious and grown up!!!!!

ive lost count of how many times either merlin or arthur has been nearly dead and had to get hauled around by the other one

also of how many times merlin used his magic in a way that should have been obvious to bystanders and wasn’t

“if morgana doesnt kill you i will" “threatening a king is treason merlin” “what about threatening an ASS” listen. look me in the eyes. this is TOP TIER banter

remember how in the early seasons they’d bend over backwards to leave plausible deniability when expressing affection? like “we’d be good friends if you weren’t a prince” or “you’re not wise or anything but yeah you’re wise” or whatever dumb toxic masculinity bullshit...those days are OVER with. merlin speaks DIRECTLY from the heart. “i’m worried about you” and “i swear i’ll protect you or die at your side” he is not fucking around even a little bit. this fool is in love

they were ALMOST cuddling when they slept together under that overhang

the two of them trapped in that net was PRICELESS. in the early seasons i got a little tired of the frequent slapstick/juvenile humor and wished the series was a bit more serious but now that they’re here i cling to every shred of levity with my whole heart

i was SO relieved to realize gwen wasn’t actually planning on killing that poor girl - i kept saying the entire time it was very out of character for her, no way could she be that cruel

arthur: “you wanna kill me fine but my last request is for you not to kill merlin” merlin: “you wanna kill arthur fine but you’re gonna have to go through me” arthur: “for fucks sake”

merlin: i never do as i’m told! that’s *** ******

i dont care if mordred DID save their lives i NEVER wanted to see him less i am so full of dread

i can’t BELIEVE morgana also has a pet dragon. she and merlin could have been the BEST foils and i’m STAYING mad about it. she was actually so good in this episode - way less full of evil smirks - that i briefly rejoined the morgana defense squad and got REAL pissed when mordred eventually shanked her, ESPECIALLY after she was so happy she was nearly crying to see him again. WHAT IS IT WITH THAT KID AND STABBING PEOPLE KNOCK IT OFF

the snowy environments in this episode were soooo good. the scenery was just...top fucking tier and it’s nice to see them somewhere other than the same old places. also like NO allo but arthur looks really nice just wandering around through a bunch of fucking snowbanks with dirt all over his face

arthur and merlin’s little ploy to steal that dagger by arthur faking a collapse was SO GOOD. they’re SO IN SYNC. i was THRILLED. better still: he winked when he was done. he used like FIVE WHOLE BRAIN CELLS AT ONCE and he was ALMOST as proud of himself as i am proud of him. what a guy, that arthur pendragon

their escape was really good too. the nonverbal communication? top tier! they just give each other little looks and then proceed to wreck the whole scene. doubly funny when the slaver is like WHO SPILLED THAT STUFF and arthur just kind of jerks his head over at merlin. snitches get stitches, YOUR HIGHNESS

i barely felt one whole emotion for sefa or her dad but him dying was like. sad. this show is sad. why the fuck am i watching it. i hate character death. they were hugging

arthur seemed like he was having just the time of his LIFE sneaking into that big ol tower of doom. dude was all cute little quips and smiles. popped his head outta that lil minecart like a kid at christmas

i love also that you give percival nothing but a single sword and in short order he goes about liberating all the slaves, killing all the slavers, and then reappropriating their swords to a better cause. he’s a one-man army. i was SO impressed. and he really looked like he was having fun too

merlin seeing that lil baby dragon again was SO fucked up and sad. why can’t it TALK :(((

also lmao “merlin you cant be that stupid” “no i am if you dont believe me watch” and merlin bolts and arthur sighs with SO much longsuffering and says “im going after him”

the light in morgana’s eyes when she talks about wanting to have arthur’s head and then her stabbing him over and over without actually killing him...she’s batshit insane. rip

i do like that arthur sort of TRIED to talk her around...it’s the first time he’s really gotten to speak with her since the end of season 3 when he found out who she was

on a final note, though, i am less than thrilled with the knighting of mordred...how is it arthur can KNOW who he is, that he’s a druid, and can do magic, and LET HIM INTO THE KNIGHTS, and still have sorcery be outlawed in camelot?? it doesnt make any SENSE

#personal #merlin blogging #the preview for 5.03 played after this ep was over #i dont usually watch them on the first try bc idw spoilers #but i watched it this time #and it SPOILS it a little bit #im glad i didnt watch and got to be shocked

3 notes · View notes

please-dont-starve · 6 years

Text

Day 17: The howls

Daybreak is usually rather beautiful here. To me, to Wilson and to Willow, all for different reasons. I like it because it makes it easier to see everything, and watching it chase away the night is very pretty. Wilson likes it because he fell in love with the radiation equations that became commonplace a few years ago to describe the Sun's glow. He had spent many a sleepless night waiting to watch those equations in their purest form. Willow likes it because it's on fire, of course, and what better way to start ones day than with someone that's on fire? The morning began beautifully enough until the howling began. Rippling across the landscape, through the very core of one’s being. It came on the hour, every hour, and roused both Wilson and Willow from sleep. "What on earth is that?" Willow asked, pushing herself off of the grass. A thin line of drool extended from her mouth to the place she had been sleeping. One of her pigtails had scrunched up against the ground in the night, and she began running her hand through it. When she turned to look at Wilson through bleary eyes, she saw the same fear she'd seen when they'd met for the first time. "The hounds..." He said, looking into the trees as if expecting them to rush out and gore him then and there, "I was out in the desert and this thing...I cannot call it a wolf, but that is all I have to describe it. It was the size of a bear and all mouth. It attacked me, tried to eat me." "Wait, didn't you kill that thing?" Wilson looked at her bug-eyed, and fished for the words, "No. I didn't see it coming until it was on me. It bit my arms, and I threw my pen into its mouth. It must have gotten caught in its throat because it spat it back out. It turned tail and ran after that." “It just... Ran away?”

“Are you questioning me?”

“Yeah, mate, I am. That don’t make a whole lotta sense,“ Willow said, as another howl echoed through the forest, “Why would it just run from a pen?“

“How would I know! All I know is that it did!”

“Uh-huh. You, the scientist, just accepted that a bear creature that attacked you just ran off from you throwing a pen down its throat?“

“I am a physicist first and a biologist fourth! I have no idea why it ran off, and I was hoping I would never have to think about it again!“

Yet another howl echoed across the camp, and Wilson saw a flock of beards fly into the air.

"Looks like ya ain’t gettin’ yer wish. Got any more pens on ya?”

“No, I left it in the cave.“

“Well, there's two of us now, we have a spear, and we took down this thing," Willow intoned, kicking the beefalo, "I'd say we’ve got nothin’ to worry about." "I suppose so."

Willow looked down at the beefalo carcass that lay beside her feet, "Well, we need to get this thing outta here before those wolves come."

"Yes, I have been thinking about that. But how do we cart something so large such a distance in such a short time? My old sled could handle a baby, there's no way it will hold this thing" "We could chop it up and make a few trips." "But it would take far too long. Even with the two of us, this could take days. On top of that, other animals might eat this while we leave it unguarded," Wilson said, gesturing at the beefalo. "I could stay back and scare em away if you made me a spear." "It is better for us to stay together until those wicked hounds come. On top of that, if I were to change during my trip, Wendy and Wolfgang are not going to know what is happening." "Well Willy, I'm fresh out of ideas." "As am I. We must guard this carcass until the attack." "So we're sitting here till the wolves come? What even makes you think they'll show up?" "We are sitting on enough food to feed any carnivore for a month." "Ah, y'know what, good point," Willow said, sitting down, "still, doesn’t seem smart to just wait fer an ambush.” "So far as I see it, we have no other choice." Wilson joined her, and they sat around the embers of the fire for an hour. A giga-fly swished past, dipping and diving in the air current. It was a mottled blue color, with black splotches along its wings. It's long mouth curled beneath it, and it's antenna tuned to some unknown station. It rested in a small flower, intent to suck out all its nutrients, when a spear jabbed into its thorax. Willow lifted up the spear and peeled the dead bug from the end. "What did you do that for?" Wilson asked, more curious than indignant. "I've always wanted to know what these things taste like," she replied, pulling off an engorged wing and stuffing it in her mouth. She chewed on it, looking for all the world like a goat chewing colored paper. "Well? Any poison?" "S'not bad!" Willow replied through the giga-fly, a bit of spit shooting out of her mouth and landing on Wilson's face. "Thank you," he replied, wiping saliva from his cheek, "what does it taste of?" "S'kinda... You know pumpkin pie?" "Yes, I have had that before." "Yeah, s'nothin like that," Willow said, swallowing and letting out a stammering belch. "That is disgusting," Wilson said, snatching the other wing for himself. Had Wilson ever had a musk stick, he might've equated the taste of giga-fly to that. However, he had not, and could not wrap his head around the sweet, slightly chalky textures of the wing. It was tasty, no doubt, but a strange kind of tasty. A faint hint of blueberries hid behind the sweetness, but Wilson didn't taste that.

On his third or fourth try of these wings he would find the blueberries, but right now its initial taste was too unique to get past. Even more unique was how filling it was. For something thin enough to provide flight, it had a caloric density unmatched by a lot of other foods. Wilson didn't notice it, but the wings also provided an increase in disease control. The infection that had been steadily creeping into the cut in his foot halted and withered over the next few days, leaving Wilson unaware of its existence. Needless to say, they had stumbled upon a strange and powerful source of food.

They continued to gorge themselves for a while, spearing the giga-flys that fluttered by. Willow's aim wasn't great, and she missed more of them than she caught, but that was still enough to keep them both fed. On his fifth taste of giga-fly, Wilson switched personality. "WHAT IS MY LOCATION?" His body asked, his voice becoming loud and without nuance. He spat out the giga-fly wing he had been chewing as he spoke. "Uh...I don't reckon you ever gave this place a name Willy." "ANSWER DOES NOT FIT QUESTION PARAMETERS. WHAT IS MY LOCATION?" "Imma say..." Willow started, fishing for a name. She looked over the area, and saw only feces, giga-flys, and a campfire, "this is Camp Shitbug." "CATALOGING. CAMP SHITBUG ADDED TO DATABASE." "Alright, I answered one'a your questions, now lemme ask, who the hell are yA?" "I AM WX-78, THE FIRST HUMANOID AUTOMATON, CREATED BY DOCTOR WILSON JEROE," WX-78 intoned, sounding like someone reading off a string of numbers. "Wait, Wilson? Wilson created you?" "THAT IS CORRECT, WERE YOU NOT LISTENING?" "No, I just... Wanted to confirm. Alright W-ex...whatever your numbers were, what's your deal? You said you were an automata-somethin, what's that all about?" "MY NAME IS WX-78 AND MY PURPOSE IS TO SIMULATE LIFE, DESPITE ITS CLEAR POINTLESSNESS" he replied, maintaining unblinking eye contact. "Okay, that's... creepy. Well, you and I are gonna keep an eye out for some wolves. Gotta make sure they don't eat us," Willow explained as another howl rose out of the tree canopy. "SEARCHING FILES... WOLVES: CARNIVOROUS BUT FRIENDLY BEASTS KNOWN FOR THEIR AFFECTION TOWARDS HUMANS AND EASE OF TRAINING," WX-78 replied, "THIS WOLF IS HOSTILE, AND MUST BE INFECTED WITH DISEASE NAME: RABIES." "Yeah that sounds about right. If Willy sent you, you probably know your stuff, though I see his influence in the emotional department," Willow replied. "EMOTION: ANTITHESIS OF LOGIC. WHO IS 'WILLY'?" "Oh, you don't know that one? Willy is Wilson's other name," willow replied. She flashed WX-78 a grin, "see also: Dickbutt." "CATALOGING. CATALOG COMPLETE. ARE YOU A FRIEND OF DOCTOR DICKBUTT?" It was all Willow could do to not burst out laughing. The effort of holding it in brought tears to her eyes. When Willow had caught her breath, she replied, "yeah, I suppose we're friends." "UNDERSTOOD. YOU APPEAR TO BE LEAKING, DO YOU NEED MEDICAL ASSISTANCE?" "No, no, this is normal for me." And so they sat and waited. The day seemed to crawl on now, and the two of them did not exchange a word for the rest of the day. Due to his wounds, Wilson, or WX-78, ended up passing out. Willow didn't really have the heart to wake him.

It was during this time that she wondered. This clan would be known for their wonderment. The family of beings born from Wilson's mind needed always to occupy themselves somehow, else they would lapse into daydreams.

Daydreams fueled with curiosity at their static surroundings and turbulent lives. Today, willow wondered of Wilson and of dreams. Were his dreams his own when he slept? or would others sleep in his skin, dreaming in his stead while he lay In the background? Had she ever swapped with him in the middle of the night or vice versa, making for a completely different dream? Or did they all dream as one, creating a magical mess on the beaten canvas of Wilson's mind?

I could tell her the answer, but that may ruin the fun that comes from such wonderings. In one's mind, the entertaining of an idea can be more fulfilling than the solving of it. In reality, Willow could only tell that Wilson, or WX-78, or the Wilson conglomerate at large, dreamt of nothing and had a tiring sleep.

It was late dusk when Wilson awoke, the sound of baying wolves ever closer by the hour. Wilson jolted to his senses, scaring the tar out of willow, who'd been absorbed in the firelight. "Jesus Willy, don't do that, you'll give me a heart attack!" "Ah, yes, sorry about that. I take it the wolves have not attacked?" "You are indubitably correct my good man," Willow mocked, putting on a pompous British accent. She turned and dumped out a small bundle of items, "before we're mauled to death, I figured we should probably see if you can do that spear thing again. It's not much use one of us havin’ a spear if the other has to cower behind them." "Very well," Wilson replied. He seized a sharper rock, a long branch, and the only stretch of twine willow had gathered. He tried to jam them all together in the same way he had done before and was met with the same flash of green. The spear on his lap was identical to the first, minus a bit of blood and insect. This confused Wilson a little bit, "if I am not mistaken, that branch was longer than this spear is now. Where did all the extra mass go?" "Well, where does stuff go when ya burn it?" "It becomes ash and smoke. There are byproducts, things cannot simply disappear." "Well, why not?" "Because that violates the first law of thermodynamics, which is a fundamental building block of physics." "Yeah, so?" "If that law is untrue in this world, then that means... That means... I do not even know what the implications of that would be. Suffice to say the world we are in should not act so similar to our own if that were the case." "Well, shit ain't fallin down around us, so I'd say we're good. Just means you got a cool power, nothin more to it. I wouldn't look that gift horse too hard in the mouth if I were you," Willow said, pointing a finger at him. She grabbed the unbloodied spear from his hands and began to fiddle with it as she had the other. Wilson looked down at his hands, and at the bloody spear lying in his fingers. It was then he decided that no, he would look this gift horse in the mouth. He would look so deeply that he would crawl into its stomach and out its asshole to wherever the gift horse came from. There had to be a reason that a man, intelligent as he was, should be able to completely break one of the most fundamental laws of the universe without even meaning to.

But first, the matter at hand. The howls were getting closer and the sun was going down. Willow threw more logs on the fire until the axe on Wilson's back was dull and useless. Finally, for two blissful hours, the howling stopped. But then came the growls. Deep grunts, far throatier than any normal wolf could muster, far more gravelly than the most cobbled of roads. These were not the sounds of animals, but monsters, and they reverberated through the duo's entire bodies.

Willow wanted to talk, to say something, but she feared she might never be heard. Wilson said nothing, and wanted to say less. He wanted to curl up and hope they would kill willow and leave him be. When he was just about to get on his knees, the wolves attacked. They leaped out of the darkness, and into the firelight, throwing their features into garish view.

They were very similar, with eyes the putrid yellow of moldy honey, upturned snouts like that of a pig, and tiny stumps of feet supporting a body almost entirely comprised of a snarling, drool filled mouth. They would've both been able to look Wilson in the eye, even if he stood as tall as he was able. And the smell, dear god the smell. They smelt of boiled flesh and wet leather. It was as if an abattoir imploded and became a dog monster.

Willow leveled her spear at the closest one to her, and Wilson nearly pissed himself. Dignified, isn't he? Willow and her wolf clashed, leaping at each other in the same instant. They locked, spear to teeth. Neither of them gave any ground as they snarled at one another.

Willow stared down the wolf, "have a go if you think yer hard enough c***!"

Meanwhile, Wilson was not having as much luck. The wolf lunged for him, and he screamed, trying to push himself out of the way. He had no luck, and the wolf gored him with a gnarled tooth. It only grazed his shoulders, but the wound was bloody. Out of reflex, Wilson jabbed the spear he was still holding at the wolf and missed, shaving some fur off of its stumpy leg.

He scrambled backward, dropping his spear as he shimmied away. The beast wasted no time and leaped on him again, trying to bite him. But it's mouth opened too wide, and it couldn't angle its head down to gnaw him.

He felt the humid breath of the monster against his chest as he stared right into its throat, smelling the thousands of victims of this things jaws. It was at this point that Wilson was so full of adrenaline that he was on the verge of a panic attack.

His hands began to shake, and his heart was beating so fast he thought it would tunnel through his rib cage. But before the adrenaline could seize his limbs completely, he gave the wolf as hard a shove as he could. All his adrenaline, all his panicked efforts, every fiber of his being poured into his thin white arms.

His hands caught the monster beneath its ugly hanging jaw, slamming it shut for the first time since the creatures had arrived. Unfortunately for the hound, these beasts were not built to close their mouths completely. Wilson heard a snapping noise as the tendons that held the jaw together bent too far in the wrong direction. Blood mixed into the wolf's saliva, causing a great ball of foam to emerge from its broken jaw.

It tried to swallow, but the foam was too thick. It could only make a noise that sound like a branch getting stuck in a lawnmower. But even with blood spilling from the hinges of its mouth, this thing would not stop. It's eyes, now bloodshot and pained, stared at Wilson.

Unable to use its mouth, it resorted to clawing Wilson, raking his chest with its small, but still deadly claws. It cut his chest, again and again. Wilson tried to roll away, but he was so exhausted now he could barely move himself.

His scrambling only rolled onto his back, giving the wolf a new area to dig through. Wilson screamed as the cold little knives ran across the back of his rib cage, his pelvis, his spine. Tears streamed from his eyes as he reached a hand out, wanting to get away.

Wilson felt a sudden weight. This is it, was all his terrified mind could think, this is it. He used the last of his energy to curl up into a ball and slip into blackness.

"What happened?" Willow looked over from the outskirts of the clearing, "oh hey, good to see you too." Wilson tried to stand up, but only received a sharp stabbing pain for his troubles. He lay back down and exhaled. He was laying on the ground, with his poncho spread over his chest like a blanket. The fire still burned, but it was getting low. The trees were too thick overhead to tell how much time had passed, but it was obviously still night. Or perhaps early morning. "You got knocked out. From what I can tell, you've lost a fuc- a lot of blood," Willow explained, catching herself. Wilson nodded a feeble thank you and she continued, "I killed the first wolf. I put the spear through the back of its throat. Then I killed the wolf on you. I wanted to eat'em too, really fu- screw with nature. But I think they gave me a bug or somethin’." Wilson looked around the camp. The two wolf carcasses lay a few feet away, with a puddle of Willow's vomit sitting next to them. Their teeth glinted in the firelight, as if they were tiny lighthouses atop a black furry sea. Wilson looked back to Willow, and her eyes met his. Her face was flecked with purple blood and red, and she looked scared. Her hands were shaking and she didn't seem to blink. She tried a smile. "You've got some lungs on you, y'know? My ears're still ringing from that scream of yours." Wilson stared at her, and her smile faded. She turned back to her work. "What are you doing?" "I wanted to get s'more firewood. Spears don't do well with trees, so I'm makin an axe," she said, pulling a bit of twine. "Pass it here." "Yer in no state to build an axe mate, get some rest." "I am fine, give me the pieces." "..." "Willow. Let me help." "S'that what you call it?" "Willow..." "Don't you Willow me buddy. You did nothing. You've done nothing. No matter what state you're in, yer a fuckin’ hassle. I have to make fire fer ya, cook fer ya, put up with ya, fight for ya, kill for ya, and save ya from yer fuckin’ self. And you think now you can help. As if now, lying on the ground from wounds you might die from, you think ya can help," Willow was standing now, a rock and a stick in either hand and clutching them until her fingers turned white. "Ya think you're in control, dontcha? Well yer not, and it's time you got that through that smart fucking brain a’yours! Ya ain't in control, y’ve never been! Ya ain't a leader, or a survivor. Yer a coward with a high IQ!" Willow looked at Wilson. The tears in her eyes didn't hide him well enough. A sickly little man, looking smaller than a child. His hair had drooped down, his skin was alive with the red and blue of veins, and the shape of his skull was clear underneath his waxen flesh. His eyes stared out from hollow sockets, and Willow couldn't meet them. Couldn't look at those little orbs that she knew couldn't be any more different from her own.

Willow turned away from him, walked back and sat down again. She heard the rustling of his blanket, the muted groans, the shuffling of feet, but she didn't turn around. A skeletal hand reached over her shoulder and touched the rock.

Willow didn't move, just watched as the green light enveloped the tools. This wasn't instant, not like the spear. It was slow, and she could see what was happening. His hand curled into a claw as the fingers strained to push out the energy. His veins bathed in the green glow, making it look necrotic, like the hand of a corpse. The stone and stick sparked, letting out tiny bursts of yellow that were swallowed by the green as it curled around her hands.

In a moment of panic thinking that she might fuse to it, willow yanked her hands out of the energy, but the items did not fall. They hung in the lights, suspended in mid-air. Then, it was over. The green dissipated into the ether, leaving only the darkness and firelight. An axe dropped into Willow's hands, fully formed. It wasn't as sharp as the spear had been, nor as long. Willow moved it around in her hands, getting a feel for its top-heaviness. The hand retreated. Willow said nothing, and began to move towards a nearby tree.

#willow #wilson higgsbury #wilson percival #wx-78 #wex #fanfiction #text post #don't starve #combat #story

1 note · View note

green-eyeddragonfanfiction · 6 years

Text

Winter’s War: Chapter 12

Summary: You, Logan, and Bucky finish the reconnaissance mission. A surprise has Bucky treating you differently, although you can’t figure out what happened. You and the Commandos take down the Hydra base, but of course things don’t go as planned.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (eventually)

Warnings: Language, Angry German, violence, blood, death

Word Count: ~3,252

A/N: ayyyy google translate don’t blame me if the translations are shit

So the last half of this might errors. It didn’t save my changes and I’m too lazy to go back right now and find them.

Masterlist // Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

No, you wouldn’t tell him or Steve about your suit’s powers until you absolutely had to. They’d almost definitely try to take it away from you.

You and Howard had completed it just a few hours before you’d had to leave so it wasn’t tested yet and you were a bit hesitant about wearing it out immediately, but it was better than being out in Hydra occupied territory without it.

It was a little bit harder to find the lookout point in the rapidly descending darkness, but you eventually found your way to it and laid down, resolving yourself to three boring hours of watching men walk around a fence.

Your everything was numb by the time Bucky showed up to relieve you of your post.

“Anything unusual?” he asked quietly as he took his place on the ground and held a pair of binoculars up to his eyes, studying the base warily.

“Equipment shipment forty-five minutes ago. No other changes in activity,” you said stiffly, willing your teeth not to chatter.

Bucky glanced up at you, worry creasing his brow. “Go get some sleep, Dollface. Logan should be standing guard already, but I wouldn’t put it past him to fall back asleep in the time I’ve been gone,” he said.

“You had to wake him up, didn’t you?” you asked, wincing at that mental image.

He grimaced and nodded. “Bastard tried to clock me. Barely dodged the hit in time, but he came to his senses pretty fast. Even apologized, which surprised me.”

You smiled a bit at that. “Wow, apologies! You two are making progress.”

He rolled his eyes at you and scoffed. “Yeah, don’t get used to it,” he said, turning his attention back to the base. “Go get some sleep, (Y/N),” he said softly.

Normally a direct order like that would have ticked you off, but something in the way he said it didn’t ruffle your feathers at all.

“Alright, have fun,” you said with a wink and a smirk before you walked away, missing the way he couldn’t tear his eyes from you as you left.

Logan was awake when you arrived, whittling away at a bit of wood of all things. He didn’t bother to look up at you from his spot against a tree as you entered the camp. He was puffing away at a fat cigar and you had to wonder how he’d gotten it, but decided to ask later.

“What kept you, sweetheart?” he asked curiously, glancing up at you through his eyelashes.

“Just gave Bucky an update.” and then we talked for a little bit.

Why didn’t you include that part?

Logan studied you carefully for a moment before he nodded. “Get some sleep, little lady,” he said, giving you a small smile, which you returned two-fold.

He had a nice smile. He should smile more often instead of glowering at everything that moved.

“Will do, Logan. See you in a few hours,” you said, smiling over your shoulder at him as you entered your tent.

You didn’t hear the frustrated sigh or see the annoyed scowl on his face just a moment later. “Just had to be a pretty dame…” he muttered under his breath.

“Wake up, sweetheart,” came a quiet, gravelly voice next to you.

You awoke with a start and your eyes immediately locked onto Logan, who was crammed carefully into your tent, hovering next to you.

“Logan, what-”

You suddenly realized exactly how cold you were and it sent your teeth chattering. You gripped your sleeping back to yourself and rubbed your hands over your arms, attempting to work heat back into your frigid body. Apparently it had gotten extremely cold while you’d been asleep.

Logan let out a small huff of laughter.

“Izzo cold,” you whispered, barely managing to speak through your chattering teeth. Your entire body trembled and the horrible vision of you dying frozen in a tent in the middle of nowhere in Greece flashed in your mind.

“Yeah, I s’pose it is,” Logan said, smirking. “Mind if I help?”

Thinking he’d grab his bed roll or Bucky’s sleeping bag, you nodded eagerly, not trusting yourself to speak.

Instead, he surprised you by picking you up, sleeping bag and all, and carrying you easily out of your tent.

The outside air was even chillier than your tent, but his warmth diffused easily through the thin fabric of the sleeping bag. “W-what’re you doin’?” you stuttered, looking up at Logan in confusion.

“Can’t keep you warm in your tent and keep watch, so I’m improvising,” he said, making his way over to the spot he’d was sitting at earlier.

“How didju know I wuzz col’?” you managed to say.

He chuckled at that and you could feel it deep in his chest. “I could hear your teeth chattering from here,” he said as he sat down, placing you gently between his legs, which he had spread wide. He reached down and unzipped the sleeping bag and you had a few seconds of freezing torture before he pulled you gently to his chest and laid the sleeping bag over the two of you like a blanket.

The effect was immediate. The second your head touched his chest and his arms went around you, your teeth stopped chattering and your body stopped trembling.

Heat went straight to your cheeks and you were thankful he couldn’t see your face. You hadn’t been expecting this.

“This alright?” he asked, his chest rumbling under your head.

Considering your options were freezing to death or snuggling with an attractive, kind, muscular man, your choice was easy.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you said quietly, relaxing into the warmth of his embrace. The smell of cigar smoke was surprisingly comforting.

“Then get some sleep,” he said quietly, breath tickling your hair.

You barely heard the words, already falling fast asleep, secure in Logan’s arms.

Bucky’s POV

Bucky wanted to get up and pace, unable to get the sight of you out of his head, but had to stay put (he didn’t feel like getting shot tonight). The sight of you in that tight black suit was wrecking his concentration.

He messed up, though. It was clear you hated him now. He didn’t know you were there the night he’d flirted with Peggy. He was trying to get a reaction out of Steve; it was clear the punk had a crush on the woman and he was hoping to get a better understanding of exactly how much she liked him.

But you’d been there. You’d probably heard all of it, if you reaction was anything to go by. He’d tried a few times to explain what had happened, but were having none of it; you shut him down every time he’d tried.

He checked his watch and let out a huff. It was time to swap, which meant he’d finally get some sleep… with you on watch. Even with a tent between the two of you, he wasn’t sure he’d sleep well with you awake only a few feet away.

He walked back to the camp slowly, yawning tiredly. Maybe he could take some time to explain-

When he entered the small clearing, he froze at the sight before him.

You were snuggled up to Logan, laying between his legs, fast asleep. You looked completely at peace laying there and Bucky’s heart broke at the sight. How did the two of you go from being so close to fighting all the time? It was practically all the two of you did these days. He wanted to be where Logan was, holding you protectively as you slept. Had you done anything together? He didn’t think you would move that fast, but he’d wasn’t sure anymore. His mind was spinning as he tried to reel in his emotions.

Logan must have sensed the anger Bucky was sending his way because he tensed and leveled a glare at Bucky.

“Got something to say, pretty boy?” Logan whispered, raising an eyebrow challeningly at Bucky.

Bucky’s self control snapped and he opened his mouth to chew Logan out, but you stirred suddenly.

“Bucky…” you whispered, just loud enough for Bucky to hear.

Both Bucky and Logan froze, gazes drawn to you like magnets.

You shuffled in Logan’s arms, but it was clear to both of them you were still asleep.

“Bucky… don’ go…” you murmured, eyes moving rapidly behind their lids as you dreamed.

Bucky stared at you, dumbfounded. Was he going crazy? Was his poor mind just hearing things it wanted to?

Logan had a rueful smirk on, though, and glanced up at Bucky. “Damn, I must be losing my touch,” he teased.

Apparently he’d been just a bit too loud, because you stirred at the sound of his voice this time.

You blinked blearily up at Logan and then around the camp, jumping slightly in surprise when you spotted Bucky standing on the other side of the camp.

“Time to switch out?” you asked tiredly, sitting up and away from Logan’s chest to stretch.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Logan said, patting your back lightly. “Sleep alright?” he asked, raising and eyebrow at you.

“Yeah, I did. Thank you, Logan,” you said sincerely. “Let me get out of you way so that Bucky-”

You glanced over at him and did a double take, words dying in your throat.

To your immense confusion, Bucky was giving you the brightest, most delighted smile you’d ever seen. It was like Christmas had come early or something.

“What… is there something on my face?”

A Week Later, Hydra Base Infiltration Operation

Ever since that night on your and Bucky’s mission, he’d been treating you completely differently. You weren’t sure what exactly had warranted the sudden change, but you were secretly too pleased to question it. For the first few days you still made scathing comments at his expense, but he took them in stride and smiled at you. It was weird. He spent a lot of time with you while you were working, asking you questions when his curiosity was piqued. He was especially interested in the sniper rifle you were still making adjustments to. He beheld it with reverence and asked if he could be the first one to try it out when it was ready, to which you’d agreed, covertly happy that he’d taken such an interest in your work. You always knew Bucky was intelligent; Steve had told you as much when he’d told you about Bucky all those months ago. You were still surprised, though, when he was able to more or less grasp the complicated mechanical designs you described to him. Most people looked at you like you were speaking a different language when you spoke (Howard being the most notable exception), but not Bucky. He asked a lot of questions to clarify, but he understood things most people didn’t (especially when it came to guns).

You were camped out less than a click away from the base on a lookout spot, keeping an eye on the guys as they made their way through the facility.

You’d outfitted them with the latest technology from yourself and Stark and they seemed to be cutting through the Hydra soldiers with ease.

“Good, Dernier’s explosives seem to be working…” you muttered to yourself as an explosion decimated the left wing of the building, right on schedule.

As predicted, the Hydra soldiers rushed out of the fiery wing and straight into the kill zone Steve and the others had created. You glanced up at the spot you knew Bucky was, keeping lookout on the team from above with the rifle you’d finally finished. He’d tested it out yesterday and raved to you about how much he loved it for a solid two hours. Apparently he’d enjoyed having a hand in finalizing it, as it now worked perfectly for him.

When you saw a Hydra squad sneaking up on his position, you sprung into action without thinking, pulling the half mask over the bottom part of your face as you went.

You leapt from your cover and clicked your heels together. You shot a good inch or so upwards as tread-covered wheels popped out of the soles of your boots.

“Here goes nothing,” you said, grimacing as you pressed a button on your glove.

Tiny engines roared to life in the heels of your boots, making you jolt forward. You did your best to remember all those times you roller skated as a kid as you sped through the forest, trying your best to dodge trees, bushes, large rocks, and branches. You had to hop over a fallen log and nearly lost your balance on the landing.

You were on Bucky’s position in less than a minute, surprising him and Hydra soldiers alike as you sped into the clearing. You hastily pressed the button on your glove, nearly losing your balance again as you stumbled to a halt, running the last few steps as your body slowed down.

The men all stared at you, completely dumbstruck.

“(Y/N)?” Bucky asked, his fist frozen a few inches from a Hydra soldier’s face. He had the man by the collar of his uniform and the Hydra soldier was in the middle of pulling out his pistol. Apparently your entrance had been so astounding they’d forgotten they were in the middle of fighting.

“Don’t just stand there, you idiot!” you chastised. You turned your attention to the Hydra soldiers, who were looking at you warily. “Was, werden wir den ganzen Tag hier stehen oder versuchen wir uns gegenseitig umzubringen, Sie Mutter-liebende Samenfressende Nazi-Bastarde?”

They roared in anger and began shooting barely a second after you’d finished talking, but you were already zooming out of their barrage, skirting their group easily.

Ten men, nine if you didn’t count the one Bucky was grappling with. You could do this.

You darted between trees easily, catching the first soldier by surprise. You clenched your first, activating the shock wiring in your gauntlets. Your fist connected with his arm, where he only had a thin shirt to protect him.

The effect was instant. As soon as the golden wiring touched him, he convulsed violently as electricity coursed through his veins, stopping his heart instantly. He dropped like a stone and his comrades immediately began firing on your position, but you were already speeding away.

You were fast. Too fast for them to keep up with. You easily outmaneuvered their group, dropping them one by one with your shock gloves. All you needed was the slight brush and they were dead.

That being said, you were terrified. Blue energy blasts flew past you left and right, a few way too close for comfort.

They’d grouped up at this point in an attempt to leave you with no openings. It would have been a smart idea… if you hadn’t made grenades.

You reached under your coat as you skated through the forest, pulling out one of the small, silver balls about the half the size of your fist.

These had been fun to make; small portable grenades that delivered giant electrical shocks instead of sending metal and shrapnel every which way. They could even be set to stun in case they wanted to capture people… but you didn’t see the need for hostages today.

You pressed the activation button on one and flicked it in the direction of their little defensive group. You had a moment to listen to their panicked cries before it went off, electrical currents frying them from the inside out.

Bucky had taken out his attacker quickly and dispatched another two men after, but you’d taken out the bulk of them.

“Not bad, eh-?” you turned to face Bucky, only to find yourself staring right down the barrel of a gun.

“Auf Wiedersehen, du Schlampe,” the man spat, cruel smile on his face.

Shit, you hadn’t kept count. You’d missed one.

His grin was quickly wiped off of his face as a bullet ripped through his temple and flew out the other side.

You turned to face Bucky, who had his pistol raised, chamber smoking. You were both surprised and so, so thankful. “Guess we’re even now, huh?” you asked, grin hidden beneath your mask.

He looked furious, though, and stomped towards you, holstering his pistol as he went. “What the hell is this?” he asked, gesturing to your suit.

You bristled at his tone, scowl taking the place of your excited grin from a moment before. “It’s me saving your life,” you said obstinately. Why the hell was he freaking out like this? You’d just saved his life! He should be thanking you! Or hugging you!

“This is was stupid of you! Have you even tested that suit out?” he asked, coming to a stop directly in front of you, eyes flashing angrily.

“I was going to, but-”

“There are rockets! In the heels! They could have exploded! You could have been killed!” He yelled, fury twisting his normally attractive features.

“I don’t need this shit, Barnes! I just saved your fucking life and you should be thanking me!” you said, shoving him open-handed away from you before you turned and raced off, leaving him a fuming mess behind you.

“(Y/N), I wasn’t done talking to- (Y/N)!” he yelled angrily, likely giving his position away to any straggling Hydra soldiers.

With a curse he turned away and took up his sniper position once again, dropping enemies with extreme prejudice.

On your way back to your lookout spot, you stumbled across an unarmed Hydra soldier, badly wounded but still able to walk.

You turned on your jets and raced up to him, changing your gloves to stun, and punched him in the gut, effectively tazing the poor bastard.

You turned your jetboots off and stood over him and placed your left foot firmly on his chest. His hands flew to it and he tried to throw you off, but was too weak.

“Hör auf zu kämpfen,” you spat. Stop struggling. He froze, surprised, and stared up at you with fear clear in his eyes. “Du wirst eine Nachricht an Arnim Zola für mich bringen,” you said darkly. You will take a message to Arnim Zola for me.

He nodded slowly, sensing he might just make it out this alive if he listened to you.

“Guter Junge. Sag ihm, ich komme zu ihm,” you said, wicked smile hidden by your mask. Good boy. Tell him I’m coming for him.

“Aber… wer bist du?” But… who are you?

You glared at him and he visibly blanched, tugging futilely at your boot.

“Er wird es wissen.“ He will know.

The soldier looked confused but you’d said your peace. You turned your left boot jet on and he screamed in agony as it burned his hand, releasing you as quickly as his tired muscles allowed.

Satisfied, you turned and sped out of the clearing, still fuming from your interaction with Bucky.

You didn’t know it, but you’d earned a nickname that day that would end up following you for years to come.

The Hydra soldier watched you race away, standing slowly and clutching his bloody hand to his chest, a single thought etched into his brain.

“Blitzkrieg.”

Next Chapter

Strikethough indicates uncooperative tag.

If you’d like to be tagged in this series, like this post! Sorry, but responses to this post asking to be tagged will be ignored, so send me an ask or like one of the taglist posts!

Marvel Taglist: @feelmyroarrrr @in-winchester-we-trust @breezy1415 @thewonderfulworldofafangirl @starkspangledbarnes @aligatorinavest @acacheofstrange @stilliwait @drakkatz @weenie-butt @badassbaker @4theluvofall @dani-si @lostinspace33 @aberrant-annie @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @geeksareunique @ldyhawkeye @riviewolf @smollyssa @kelly96q @fatalcrossbow @ipaintmelodies @1-fighting-dreamer @verdonafrost @ek823 @sammyissassy @lovingcoldheart @wildefire @lordsexmachine @lxdyred @breebree1198 @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @hypnotized-whale @dragia @supernaturalpotternerd @codeword-cheesecake @pandorasjam @alyssaj23 @lynnamin-bun @sarahmatthews7 @superwholockian5ever @t-be-the-sunshine @mallyallyandra @sebstanfangirl @pineapplebooboo @beheaded-blerd-babe @whiskeyandwashitape @sarahp879 @lame-lozer @chook007 @smollyssa @walkingtravesty97 @mizzzpink @clarissa-27 @s-u-t @idontknowwhattocallthisposts @moonmoon723 @bluemoon-0132 @jjsoccer11 @sujuvixxo @fakingintrest @shunmonster @ninjayjumper @amillionfandoms-onlyoneme

Bucky x Reader Taglist: @the-observant-fangirl @missrufflewaffles @epicbooklove @lucyvaughan-omg- @siriusleeblack22 @sophs-the-name @38leticia @timeladylaurel @kytty27 @santa-crew @nontimebomaladeusmeus @mlb4evah @hello-sweetie-get-the-salt @creideamhgradochas @slender–spirit @carryonmy-assbutt @paulajay90 @beautiful-aravis @lastfallenstar @justaveryobsessedfangirl @maddieirwin69 @starkxpotts @lepoopiealapoopie @sanniegirl1214 @shifutheshihtzu @rocketqueeens @dollytherres @luisamaria-starstuff @emilythecruel @sebstanwassup @contessaperales @ginger-wayward-assbutt @vibraniumass @buckyappreciationsociety @captainwheresmyfries @xagateophobiax

Winter’s War Taglist: @littlemessyjessi @titty-teetee @mavelfanatic @readingmyeyesout @vanessastan @trruemanblack @mixin–it–up @sergeantjamesbuckbarnes @agentsinstorybrooke @afternoondeelites @12unknown340 @901seconds @aelinbucky @satans-knitting-club @ha-tep @fayrizo @toongtii @fandommonium3267 @sebstanfangirl @moonbeambucky @realwadrid @songbirdmia @thatweirdemokidinclass @lehoenardodavinci @00just-me00 @aninsidefreak @ilostmylovetopoetry @lukepadawan @qnzdiamond104 @bunnymother93 @bad-wolf87 @thebestsociopath @kitkatbadass @lehoenardodavincheese @the-ragnarssons-tickle-spot @t-be-the-sunshine @theonlymoosewhoeatssalad @soph-e @dreamamster @proud-2b-samoan @winter-soldiers-doll @whooolemilk @somekryptonitewriting @lolhelp42 @mtvsos @part-time-patronus @sebstansstan @peterpanslittlelostgirl @falcone-png

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #logan #40s!bucky #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier #winter's war #marvel fanfiction

318 notes · View notes

paraclete0407 · 3 years

Text

Feel like Du Fu dreaming of the distant capital Chang’an; ‘liang-zi’ in rain or so. Money burns, houses burn - diamonds burn. ‘Do not harm the wine and oil.’ People don’t even think about An Lushan Civil War and IDK if I read fake history but f-cking Hail Satan / Moloch (’Eat, Lord!’ - Salammbo) from what I read; this world; these men; ‘A Dish of Peaches in Russia.’ Can’t wait to get tortured by K-mafia in all the pornographic violation-vectors pleasures of which I investigated over the years dept. of Purgatory(?). Sing infernal muse of orgasm-hunting and desperately personal inward contractionist odysseys; I rem. thinking ‘220K Belgian breast-implants,’ it looked like my piano-teacher’s house; Knausgaard is like ‘Time for Everything.’ I wrote ‘Success Kid Soup’ where SAmchon / Sammo is writing his Salterian gratitude-journals teaching Hyomin abt. James Salter, then, ‘final eloquence(?) of Jane Austen scholarship.

I rem. once sleeping at Lake Park in car thinking PCH slept in cars to keep from being degen. but ppl thought I was battering old men at Children’s Grand Park or smashing up one of my favorite girls with a flashlight(!?) - it’s not even true.

‘Do you know The Death of Ivan Ilyich,’ midnight gardens, but at this time in my life I felt I had no real program. My only ‘take’ was if you want to talk about DoII let’s sincerely talk about it but then IDK what women ‘intend.’ Plasma-cannons, alien antennae; a while back I thought about ‘Holdings’ only there appears to be a baptism of fire in some sense or other. I rem. psychoticization of Barry Hannah, GnR prophecies, is he burying or disinterring the AK-74. The song from the untranslatable SF global HumDev drama where they married IRL then divorced, some Frenchman,... sexually awaken this! - that song is like... I went on Wikipedia reading about kamikaze, ‘liberty,’ bomb-interception w/ Type-0, fact that some Japanese really weren’t lip-lick daddy-daughter fake paternal colonialists (i believe) b/c a few JP probably detected Perry’s lip-lick, ShiShi, knock knock wakizahi Heaven’s Judgment to mental Cho Kuks(?) - Koreans understand Iwo Jima Lt. Gen b/c these are sacred bloodlines

I rem. ‘when Black girls love them some white boys’ - great! I just regret ever saying anything like TW-1 French tips it’s retarded, now abideth the face, the brows, the destiny of Woman,

XJP probably knows all this; extend question, how to show / teach world..

‘I appreciated’... ‘Expectation’... Smoothie Kng FroYo Bella...

IDK why I feel like saying all this now; I bought a watch-head for like 50 ollars that later got humidified, the watch-repairman’s grip was excellent, but these peple are just not my constituents because at bottom they’re AmKor AAPI Twitter ‘PS always hated you’ reactionary tribalists so rape me my friend! Leave me alone! I liked ‘Beautiful Goodbye’ but as for the ‘Taeyeon suicide countdown types’ if you really wanted ‘My way your way anything goes tonight’ stimulation can I rip out your fingernails upside down hang baseball bat - it cost less than Six Flags and make more ‘individual special’ story. It’s not wrong to torture, ‘better to marry than to burn’ and better to hydroelectrocute, waterboard, shortchain, airplane, than spew infernal lies. Confucius ‘If you love your son beat him’ - I wanna beat myself, IDK if I was right or wrong but smashed ‘Ryan’ with softcover workbook 2011, different time, also turned out he was set up / falsely accused by James so I became one of those ‘ppl that made ppl hate all teachers / system / Caucasians’ - legal, other ppl were toe-kicking to back of knee and stuff. My colleague asked the English for ‘corporal punishment’ I said ‘physical punishment’ b/c ‘corporal’ is mil. rank and ‘corporeal’ is Catholic oceanic concept. Other ppl at that hagwon were like ‘cartoons, puns, I am “woke” and exprienced instructor, circumspect, every so often hurl lethal objects at children’ - later he said stuff like ‘pimping Incheon,’ real estate license, Canada. ‘Korea’s got some growing up to do, libertarianism, a million year patrimony of Canadian nationhood.’ Pornhub, Hushmail, greed-immigration-laws. I said ‘You’re the butler from Kazuo Ishiguro’ but why say anything these ppl are nail-paring... David’s harlotry, how to cancel you, fake dream, no depth of instructional design or whole school architecture, not even dream, not even waiting... Sad! I remember Jordan Peterson calling Tinkerbell ‘the porn fairy’ I like Soshi’s ‘Tinkerbell’ from the press-motif and its echo of Emerson’s notion of the ‘scholar of one candle’ I’m not pro-pornography I just have Catholicistic aesthetics

Now I remember ‘David’ who wanted a card and considered the ‘Fnal Word’ summative statement possibilities of a mechanical pencil. But in the future everyone already understands everything. I remember later filing away what I had taken to be perfunctory observations based on students’ testimony such as ES = parents; MS =friends HS = [TD Jakes sermon + purposes + future spouse etc.]... My friend said sth, I get super-sick of sharing anything with anyone + fret that all my ‘good deeds’ are being rewarded in this world. Sica’s ‘Gravity’ cover. I just no longer understand Korean; Brooks Brothers as white supremacist(?). LJH is like ‘walking straight up to Heaven.’ Condescending-Canada-1 on my 26th birthday was talking about ‘meting you again’ story-ideas; I had a ‘hen could fly’-esque story idea about deer or ‘hart’ and ducks but in retrospect symbolic thinking, who cares. ‘that has expelled us and our images (Stevens’...

Picture of A.S. Lizzie particolor sweater Cheonggyeoncheon; New Order ‘Regret,’ Thatcher era, all these English ‘God wot Warhammer 40K’ retreat in to expressive Imperium that seems condition of fiction but is actually ‘potential prophecy’ or future certainty-world. It was ‘Regret,’ Singapore, but the 40K people were satisfied w/ their lives and Thatcher that I know wasn’t executing them or corralling in to work-camps just saying [make do with less?]...

I wanted to Western fencing and ended up w/ saber/re, in the late 1990s WJC dispatched cops with MP-5′s in order to extradite or return Cuban refugee-boy to his communist homeland; coach is saying ‘Nazi.’ Did Castro threaten terror or was it just child-sacrifice. Later my HS achieved prominence in female saber but honestly, games, toys, fake progress, fake hope, IDC don’t touch me. I later took interest in epee, San-E ‘Feminist,’ my dad said a smart comment about ‘dissonance’ but it is still ‘representations.’ It’s Madonna ‘Holiday.’

‘Seulgi didn’t touch flowers b/c harm them’ - Pearl Buck ‘Living Reed.’ ~ ‘harm not the Earth.’ Gym avoid, just run or work or sth. Insane veterinarian bodybuilder ‘meat digestion enzyme - eat many animals as possible.’ ‘Isolation exercise’ - ev1 wants to believe this brililant then they spent like 3000000 dollars on gov’t money on SF training then they are ‘vastus medialis.’ I like ‘Say something nice about Seulgi’ - it’s like ES.

Feel like what should I confess, my very fav. student, ‘the one who could be anything, whose parents maybe gave her ‘open class.’ What is someone like that to do?

I used to drive down Capitol seeing Black people thinking ‘God’s chosen’ or so but didn’t feel compelled to add or contribute anything to them as they had a special destiny. ‘Where do I take this love?’ Everyone wants to adopt everyone, I believe it monstrous, oppose, veto. ‘Teach me the way’ - it’s grooming, pederasty. I rem. ‘This Is Love’ and two words that mean ‘already.’ My old poem about S’hai-1 and ‘South of the Border West of the Sun.’ Even more now channeling ‘Evr’y Hour,’ seeing Genghis Khan books at BN,’ Beolsseo arasseo.’ I admire out-of-time rubato things, Spengler characterizing the Greco-Roman culture-soul as ‘andante.’ HUFS-1 is ‘Andante Spianato,’ ‘planing.’ I knew her hometown but she’s not my girl so. I know no other piece with a ‘spianato’ direction. No one plays this piece to my satisfaction it’s more Chopin monster-magic. I liked ‘Forgefuness’ by Hart Crane in a way but weird dreams with Crane like a gelatinous turkey b/c hat is so great abt being homosexual and brilliant(?). Power without responsibility, conceit. There were these word-jump-around-page poems from Strand books that I wrote with great joy-generation in HS but after that decided it was madness, mental illness. Square poem, piano reduction of insanity-pop-music, cancel manic depression. Later tried sonnet, tangci, sijo. I like ‘sobriety, staidness.’ ‘Letters to Auratus’ more of my writing tutoring / literary agency abt. what are you trying to convey with ASLS, surrogacy, Heideggerian being-towards-death, dying life. I get it - for a time I always said ‘I see what you’re saying.’ Purity, remembrance. But IDK if Auratus knows or doesn’t know b/c ‘Can’t I lie?’ Maybe it is other people’s pathos. Surrogacy, chaebol, AI knows I like HK3 a lot but in retrospect... I had the phrase ‘autumn settlings.’ Old man waiting for his son, mitigation, train to Cheonan with this grief-blind woman or sth, are you looking at me? My nose is not Jung Woosung’s nose. I forgot the zeitgeists from past dramas; I ban them anyway. ‘The Charm of Department Stores.’

‘Roads Not Taken’ or so is a book about the Vietnam War; who wrote the last word on the Vietnam War? I felt it strange that they make monthly magazines about the past; this transport with American soldiers very washed. Vietnam has huge butterflies. ‘Soldier’s Wives’ ~ ‘This is her taste,’ Chris Kyle’s wife but it’s still like LBSDBS. I remember reading the Mutual Assured Destruction guy’s theory f ‘Faustian peoples’ or so (not Spengler’s idea of all the West as Faustian-outward-historiographical+ ut sth different), my fav. K-film has always been AMFL; I started remembering ‘Insa,’ feeling autumn golden leaves thrown up by the passing SUV fall through my body. These words mean many things and in past I took words in mouth I should keep to myself and wish to hear rather than say or wish to mull rather than flaunt... (once Grahame Greene squalor-lord met the Pope who said ‘But I’m already Catholic’ - dept. of apologetics v. present prophecy, discernment, reality-betterment). I want to tell my most demonic sex-trafficking hallucinations like hole-in-heart zombies racism pineapple pizza, paint the apartment - this was ‘nesting.’ ‘Reflections.’ Auratus was talking of the F-22 which I wanted to tell him that’s not the fastest plane by a longshot, today too I think evth is Satan electric fields and drones thrust-vectoring is a huge toy but IDK what IDK. I wished to send all F-22′s to Kor, I used to nickname this girl XB-70; I thought I was once the little escort just there to film the test or sth. KJAD rapidly improved, the shrimp whale dolphin thing vanished. Creatures. There were scramjets and that reverse dive-bombing where you climb, thrust-weight ratio, ‘arabesque.’ I used to deliberately mar my English and say ‘I think it’s good idea’ and ‘good form.’

F-22, I feel like USA trashed their whole continent and now can’t even give good motor-vehicle?

Memories of KJY, ‘Black is beautiful?’ Wilberforce. ‘Confucianism is all about the phallus(?!).’ YOU help them dept. of Maoist time-bomb. I’ll g to Somalia, Eritrea, one day. I know these kids have special promise; I too would take measures to make them cute and loveable. ‘Social form.’ I love Paul Washer - ‘porn = unloving heart’ - kneel before father... but they need good police; I don’t own firearms; I don’t like to exaggerate. Like in 2012 Doomsday in the end Africa becomes the center o human civilization... I read King Leopold’s Ghost; there was a Georgian Southerner at Beauty School so I got mad at started talking about Gen. Sherman burning down his home turf. Believe in severity; I wanted to help them but they’re so sure they know sth but they’ve been exploding-heart-ing me since like MS; it’s part of why I just wanted to live in Redlands and write in the office ‘cause I know what they think; my name is like a Confederate general, IDK my own past, supposedly teetotaling Union officer who burned his uniform. Tory anti-belief-niks... Let’s talk about Myeongnyang, sacrifice, simplicity, the other thing if adult job-opportunities I guess b/c I know all about being educated but underemployed but I’m not Biden; what job can I create? Just tell them I’ve lived less than I say I’ve lived; ‘creative writing.’ I never made it to Busan, what’s in Busan? Shanghai never made it. Let’s talk about ‘10,000 Sorrows,’ abandonment, slavery, honor-killing, church abuses. Jazz is neither here nor there that I can tell; body-image. Who’s the most important person in the world today? What’s God’s will or me? Just delete my family name? Of course I like ‘Deep River’ - ‘ugly and destructive’ slavery. ‘My Soul’s Been Anchored in the Lord.’ They think I‘m the mark / easy money / sue for punitive damages but I think they’re the marks, ‘maybe so.’ Korea’s not inlating min.-wage; wanna talk about Ralph Ellison, Toni Morrison, James Baldwin. I know a bit about Baldwinian sin-eating like ‘I tell you all my dirty secrets then pretend I didn’t’ - it’s called US mental healthcare system. I like that poem about the pimp but this poet also shout his mouth off talkig about firing in to crowds of protesters. ‘Fire Next Time.’ With Covid it could well be; I was telling ex-friend about how there would just be tanks on the street again but I have come to believe I was reading the future by past. I used to bodybuild in college and eat fish oil every 2 hours so this girl who loves Taeyang saw my fish oils and started crying since she thought they were steroids; ultra-beautiful,Bo probably / hopefully flourishing, modified spelling of the name that means ‘revelation of God.’ But Snoop? Cardi? Does their ethos or way of war ever ever ever prevail? Bonhoeffer learned from the Black church; I loved his poem about feeling strangled in prison. I wanna raze Milwaukee and build them reasonable apartments with study-desks and stuff; their neighborhoods have a soothing energy. Someone a deacde back was eating with African-African national leaders who confided, ‘Our whole continent doesn’t have enough wisdom.’ Koreans were buying up farmland in Africa. I was sad b/c I felt I had a chance; I checked some vaccine-info. now it’s just like in Uieongbu DJJ is some kind of bio-terrorist. I was fond of DC Sua’s ‘Copycat’ although I backed from all that because it’s infinitely misinterpretable; I thought about ‘Love Only Me,’ now I am like ‘Love Someone Else.’ I felt as if this ought to be a lenten penitent ‘reduced circumstances’ era in remembrance of numerous mistakes, going humbly. I liked ‘Don’t Waste Your Life Sentence,’ spring nights. I sometimes feel as if the current POTUS will say all the right things but the drug-laws in past were merciless and what was the point? But that’s Rome and I’ve no portfolio. ‘Henry Fish’ my YAL from 2012 - endless sorries- with his 30-dollar military jackets, taped glasses. ‘Glad and proud to call Obama my president.’ I’ve never voted and don’t intend to except in ‘12 I voted for Obama partly because the psychiatrist and I had a good exchange; now feel that leaving the town hall that ‘pride’ was literal pride, evil, like all these women say, ‘Why would you do that?’ ‘ObaMao.’ I PRC they called him ‘heiren.’ Syria red line ciaccona, Obergefell, strat-patience. End Iraq then suddenly super-massive investment in modernization of nuclear forces, telling EU to pay more for defense - there’s just not gonna be Heaven on Earth & I am never gonna make it to Venus and I really walk round thinking about camping in ex-NK and I do’t mean like the drama But he’s a great man too. ‘Cocaine and cohabitation’ - maybe he really was pace Dreamcatcher beginning of the end, from Hawai’i, ‘From Here to Eternity,’ end of AmCent. His ‘Amazing Grace.’ I said something really obtuse about Bloomberg, Pete Mayor, Biden; a while ago skimmed ‘Lost Victories’ about the Nazi general who drove tanks through forests and stuff, when is going to fall the sword? I liked ‘Beethoven was Black,’ Waldstein-III, and 111 is like ‘massive slave rebellion followed by less-tn-expected final affirmation. IZ*ONE ‘Human Love’ (in respect-mode I call it Ahn Yujin and Jo Yuri ‘Human Love’ b/c they were already breaking up the GG) - I thought it was a great moment; a signature.’ Then the ILY3K, marriage bad, uneducated, omni-prostitution unrestricted war CCP-revanchism exceedingly woke but for all I know I’m just a fake cultural Christian.

0 notes