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justagalwhowrites · 9 months

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Yearling - Ch. 5: Movement

Tommy asks Joel for a favor. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-4 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: None, but the whole fic is violent and eventually smutty. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only

Length: 5.8k

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Spring, 1997

Your parents couldn’t have planted a better way to catch you sneaking out of the house if they tried.

Not that you snuck out much. Usually you just went down to the stables to hang out with your horse, Athena, when you couldn’t sleep. Or you went to clamber onto the roof over the front porch to lay out and look up at the stars. You’d always loved the constellations, memorizing the patterns and the stories that went with them.

But there was one stupid floorboard just outside your parents’ bedroom that creaked when you stepped on it and you tried to dodge it, you really did, but it was dark and you misjudged just where you were in the hall. You stood, ball of your foot on the squeaky board like it was a landmine, lifting your weight slowly, hoping it minimized the sound. It didn’t make much difference.

You waited, just beyond their door, to see if there was stirring inside but the only sound was your dad’s even snoring. The rest of the path to your brother’s room was easy.

Once you’d closed the door softly behind you, you dove onto his bed, hurtling your weight against his stomach and chest, making him groan.

“What the fuck?” Richie mumbled, shoving you back. “The hell you doin’ in here, Bug? What time s’it?”

“Almost four,” you tucked your legs below you, sitting back on your heels, moonlight shining off his skin. “I need your help.”

“Whatever it is can wait an hour and a half ’til I’m up for the day,” he groaned, turning onto his stomach and burying his face in his pillow. “Fuck off.”

“See, it can’t though,” you pushed on his arm and he turned his head. You could barely make out his glaring at you in the dark. “Has to be now, c’mon.”

“Bug, I swear to God…”

“Mama’ll kill you if she hears you taking the lord’s name in vain around me,” you said, smug. You could almost hear him roll his eyes. “Fine, you want to stay here? I’ll do it myself but you’re gonna get in trouble for lettin’ me.”

That got his attention.

“Lettin’ you do what?” He asked. “Not a damn soul can control you least of all me…”

“Well I’m gonna go break Triton so you can either help and make sure I don’t snap my neck or you can stay here and face Daddy’s wrath…”

“You’re what!” He yelped, sitting bolt upright. You shushed him, clasping your hand over his mouth, keeping it there until you were sure neither of your parents were about to come into his room to see what the commotion was.

“Sorry,” you whispered when you released him. “Don’t be so dumb next time, Jesus…”

“You ain’t bein’ serious,” he said, propping an arm on his knee as he rubbed the sleep from his face. You didn’t say anything, just looked at him. He sighed. “Dammit Bug. You’re my least favorite sister, you know that, right?”

“I’m your only sister,” you said, smug. “Now c’mon, let’s go! Everyone will be working in like two hours…”

“I’ll meet you at the stable in 10 minutes,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes again. “I’m just in boxers, not gettin’ outta bed with you here.”

“Gross,” you said cheerfully, going for his door.

“Don’t you dare even go in his stall ’til I’m there, you understand me?” He said, voice sharp. “I mean it, Bug, you’ll get fuckin’ trampled.”

“I’m not an idiot,” you rolled your eyes and left, heading to the stables.

It was so early that no one was at work yet and the ranch was still and quiet. You went into the stable and peered into Athena’s stall for a moment, your horse sleeping peacefully. You resisted the urge to go curl up next to her and went to collect the tack for Triton.

You waited by his stall, the stallion just starting to stir. He got to his feet and shook his large head once, his mane bouncing with it as he ambled over to the door. He was big, one of the biggest horses on your father’s ranch. You’d ridden bigger horses than him but never one who wasn’t well broke.

But you’d been watching your father and brothers and two other ranch hands struggle to get through to Triton for weeks. You perched on the fence post and watched as they got thrown and kicked, the horse often taking off to the other side of the paddock while totally out of control. They couldn’t get him past saddle broke, Triton willing to take tack but not a rider. He’d been a significant investment, intended to be used as a stud for some of the mares on the ranch as well as a horse to drive cattle, but he was useless if the men couldn’t get him to take commands.

You’d sat and watched them fail and fail with him the day before, silent from your position on the fence, when Triton took off, doing a circuit of the paddock and coming to a stop near you. Your dad screamed at you to get back on the other side of the fence but you ignored him, slowly reaching your hand for the horse’s muzzle. His velvet nose sniffed you before he pressed into your palm and you petted him gently. He chuffed and moved closer and you looked in his eyes. He was just afraid. Afraid of the big men and their frustration and rage and the plans they had for his body that were going to shit because he wouldn’t bend to their will.

“I understand you,” you said quietly. He chuffed again and twitched his ears. “It’s OK. I understand. I’ll help. I understand.”

Kevin, one of the ranch hands, ran over and grabbed Triton’s reins, tugging him away from you, making his large hooves stomp into the dirt.

“Can’t go messin’ with the princess of the ranch,” he muttered as the horse tossed his head and dragged his feet.

You decided then that the men weren’t ever going to get this horse to where he needed to be. They couldn’t. But you could. You just needed a chance, just needed to connect with him and let him figure it out with you, that’s all.

“You’re fuckin’ nuts, Bug,” Richie yawned, tugging his Levis up by the beltloops as he came over to you. “Triton’s gonna chew you up and spit you out.”

“Well then you can watch and tell Brendan all about it,” you said, jerking your chin toward the bunk house where your oldest brother now lived. “But you’re wrong. I’m gonna get him there. He just needs someone to trust.”

“Swear to shit you break somethin’…”

“It’s on me,” you smiled. He sighed and waved you back as he put the bridle on Triton and brought him out of his stall. Richie got the horse saddled and you stood back and watched, Triton keeping his eyes on you the whole time. The three of you went into the paddock, the only light coming from the barn, the moon and the stars. You clambered onto the fence as Richie held the reins.

“What do you wanna do?” He asked, watching you. “Since you want to be a ranch hand so damn bad.”

You flipped him off before holding your hand out to Triton, letting him sniff you. It took him a moment before he pressed his soft, smooth muzzle into your palm, his breath hot on your skin. You took a deep breath.

“You remember how to handle if he tries to buck you, right?” Richie asked, tone nervous. You nodded. “And I know you know how to try and fall and land when he throws you?”

“I’m not a dumbass,” you rolled your eyes. He just nodded.

“Alright, well…” He sighed, looking at Triton. “I’ll make sure you don’t get trampled, don’t do anything stupid.”

You nodded and swallowed, putting your hand on Triton’s neck and stroking him gently, moving down his body until you reached his saddle. It was more nerve-racking than you anticipated, getting ready to climb on Triton. You knew what was about to happen was going to hurt, even if he didn’t throw you. And Triton was big. Bigger than Athena by a hand at least, closer to two. Controlling him would be harder even if he was well broke.

“You gotta get on ‘em quick,” Richie sounded nervous.

“I ain’t stupid,” you muttered, putting your hands on the saddle.

“Sure you ain’t,” Richie muttered back.

You ignored him and all but jumped on Triton’s back, snapping your feet into the stirrups and Richie bolting back from the horse as he shot off away from the fence, totally outside your control. But you hung on, even as he started to buck below you. You tried to reach out, get a hand on him instead of just the saddle but your foot slipped from the stirrup and you flew, smacking into the dirt, the air knocked out of you. You heard Richie scrambling to get Triton under control as you rolled and got to your hands and knees, gasping for breath.

“Alright, you tried,” Richie panted, Triton whinnying and stomping his feet in protest. “Let’s go in before you really get hurt.”

“No,” you got up and brushed yourself off, feeling the grit under your palms. “I’m good, I want to go again.”

“Bug,” Richie sighed.

“I’ll do it without you.”

He sighed again.

“Catch your breath first,” he said. “Then we’ll go again.”

Triton threw you three more times but you kept getting up and getting back on him, Richie sounding more and more frustrated each time.

“Can’t keep doin’ this,” he said as you got ready to get back on Triton yet again. “You’re fixin’ to get yourself killed…”

“One more,” you said, shaking your arms to loosen up more. “Let me do one more and if he throws me again I’ll go in.”

“Fine,” he sighed. “One more, Bug. Then I’m puttin’ you over my shoulder and draggin’ you in, I don’t care if you scream the whole ranch down.”

You just nodded, looking up at Triton for a moment, his nostrils flaring. You reached your hand out for his nose again and it took a moment before he pressed his muzzle into your palm.

“It’s OK,” you said to him gently, looking him in the eye. “I’m tryin’ to help you, not tryin’ to hurt you. It’s OK.”

“He can’t understand you,” Richie said. You glared at him.

You jumped on Triton again and he took off but you were able to get seated properly this time, heels low in the stirrups, one hand on the reins the other on the saddle as he bucked and writhed. You could feel how he was moving this time, able to shift in tandem with him, like you were an extension of him and he of you. You could sense his anger and longing for control and almost rabid panic as you held on until, eventually, he started to calm below you. His movements slowed and eased, reduced to scratching his hooves at the earth and tossing his head as you held the reins.

“Holy shit,” Richie breathed as you leaned forward slowly, cautiously, and stroked Triton’s neck.

“See?” You said gently, voice soothing as you ran your fingers over him. “You’re OK. It’ll be OK, I’ll take care of you, not going to hurt you, you’re OK…”

You let him walk the perimeter of the paddock, tossing his head and puffing, occasionally getting restless and trying to buck you again. You were ready for him though, hanging on when he thrashed and reaching forward to soothe him and praise him when he calmed.

When the sun began to rise on the horizon, you had him responding to some basic commands. You were able to turn him right or left and pull him into a one-rein stop. You’d almost forgotten you were doing what you were doing without permission until you heard your father screaming your name as he ran for the fence. He jumped it like he was a man in his 20s not his 50s, hurtling for you. You tightened your grip on Triton’s reins and leaned forward on him, shushing him as he started to stomp impatiently.

“You tryin’ to get yourself killed?” He panted, his eyes huge. “The hell were you thinking!”

“Daddy,” you said, voice calm. “You’re gonna spook ‘em and I’ve been workin’ all mornin’ to get him here, appreciate it if you don’t ruin it for me.”

“It’s true,” Richie said, his arms crossed as he leaned against a fence post. “She’s been at it for hours…”

“And you let her?” Your father rounded on your brother. “She’s 13, she’s a kid but you’re 18, you’re an adult! I expect better outta you…”

“You know as well as I do that nothin’s gonna stop her once she sets her mind to somethin’,” He replied. “Figured it’d be better if I were out here to help than if she did it on her own.”

“You were scarin’ ‘em, Daddy,” you said, stroking Triton’s neck gently. He chuffed at it, turning his head enough to look back at you. You met his gaze and smiled softly, giving him a reassuring pat. “He just needed to know someone was lookin’ out for him. That’s all. Can’t just force ‘em, Daddy. Gotta help ‘em.”

The ranch hands had started gathering around the fence, looking up at you from your perch on the back of the horse you’d brought to heel. He shifted his weight, wary, but calmed when you leaned over his neck, your hands on him.

“Just gotta help ‘em.”

***

Late April, 2026

“Hey, Joel,” Tommy jogged over to him as he walked back to his house. It was still outside, the air cool but with the promise of summer on the edges of it. The sun was setting, most people in town already home if they weren’t eating a late dinner at the mess hall or going to the Tipsy Bison for a drink. Joel found himself actually looking forward to the quiet evening alone before his brother came up, looking forward to the silence and the chance to relax into what his life was now. “Got a minute? Been meanin’ to talk to you about somethin’.”

“Sure,” Joel shrugged, heading inside. “Not like I got anywhere to be.”

He led the way into the house, Tommy lingering at his bookshelf like he was reading the titles of the books there. As if he hadn’t seen the room dozens of times before.

“Get you a drink?” Joel called from the kitchen, getting himself a glass of water.

“Nah,” Tommy said. “Won’t be here too long. Unless you wanted to do somethin’…”

“What’d you need, Tommy.”

He smiled a little, nodding and looking at the ground for a second before meeting his eyes again.

“Just wonderin’ what you thought of Bambi and the job she’s doin’ here so far. Since you brought her into town and all…”

Joel looked at him for a moment, taking a drink of water to buy himself time.

He didn’t want to admit it but he’d been all but actively avoiding you since the incident at the stables in December. Not that he wasn’t perfectly polite when he saw you, always giving you an expected “how’s your day” when he came by to get a horse or return one. You weren’t exactly verbose in return, usually just shrugging or saying “fine” and handing him the reins or taking them back. He didn’t feel like he could get any closer to you than that. He was focused on trying to fix things with Ellie, still trying to remember what it was like to be a whole person with something to live for. And you seemed to want little to do with anyone at all, content to be on your own with the horses and sometimes the dogs. You didn’t trust people and he didn’t blame you. It wasn’t fair to you for him to try to insert himself into your life, to try to be your friend.

In part because he wasn’t sure he could be just your friend.

He didn’t trust himself to try to keep a reasonable distance from you if he got closer. Every time your fingers brushed his when he passed his horse off to you after a patrol he wanted to take your hand and pull you against him. He wanted to breathe you in, feel you against him, soak up the vitality that clung to you like a second skin. He wanted to know you and understand you but he knew and understood himself enough to know that this wouldn’t be enough. You were beautiful and strong and so fucking alive he wanted to take in everything you would give him, everything. He wouldn’t be satisfied with just being friends, not with how he already saw you, how he was already drawn to you. He wanted to be your friend. He couldn’t stop at being your friend.

So he kept his distance.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t notice things. He noticed things. He noticed the fact that you stood up a little straighter now. He noticed that sometimes you wore your hair down now and you didn’t stare at the ground when he caught a glimpse of you going to the mess hall. He noticed that you always wore his coat, even as the weather grew warmer and he knew you had to be sweltering in it, especially as you worked in the stables. He’d never seen you in town without that coat.

“Doin’ good, all things considered,” he shrugged after a second. “Horses seem good, ‘specially Samson. But you’d be better off askin’ one of her friends than me, don’t know her all that well.”

“Well now, see, that’s the thing,” Tommy cupped the back of his neck and winced a bit. “She doesn’t exactly have a lot of those…”

Joel frowned. He’d never seen you with people but he assumed that was because he usually saw you when you were working. You couldn’t just be alone here. Right?

“She must have a couple,” he said. “She’s been here months…”

“Yeah, the council is worried about that, too,” Tommy nodded. “She’s got a big job here now and she’s doin’ that real well, got Samson to the point that we can take ‘em on patrol and shoot from his back and he don’t even flinch but they’re worried she’s not integrating here well otherwise.”

“Can’t force her,” Joel shrugged as he took another drink of water. “She don’t want friends, can’t make her have friends, Tommy.”

“We just can’t afford to have her want to leave,” he said. “So Maria asked me to talk with you. See if you could check in on her a bit, see how she’s doin’…”

“Tommy,” Joel sighed, tensing his jaw. “Don’t think I’m the right person…”

His brother cut him off.

“Only person she is friends with is Ellie,” he said.

“Ellie.”

“Ellie. And I know you’d want to keep an eye on what Ellie’s up to, make sure she’s a good influence,” Tommy said. “Make sure if she does decide to take off she don’t take Ellie with her…”

Joel sighed again. He knew what Tommy was doing. He wasn’t stupid. Joel could say no to his brother, he could say no to the council, he couldn’t say no to looking out for his daughter. He hadn’t even responded when Tommy smiled, like he knew what Joel was about to say.

“About time we added her to the patrol rotation, anyway,” he said. “Thought you could make sure she knows how to shoot, show her the ropes. We’ll go out with her later this week, see how she does. She can pair up with you after that, assuming all goes well.”

“Sure,” Joel said before he could do the smart thing and push back on it. “For a bit at least.”

“Great,” Tommy smiled, clapping Joel on the shoulder. “Appreciate it!”

Joel stood on his porch and watched his brother leave before he sighed and went back into his house. He sat on his couch and put his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands for a moment. He’d just need to keep it together for a few weeks. Get you up to speed and set up to go on patrol with someone else and make sure that you weren’t about to take off in the middle of the night while taking Ellie with you. He’d gotten himself to a life that was satisfying, even if it wasn’t necessarily happy. He had people he cared about, a community he liked being a part of, a home to come back to at the end of the day. He didn’t want to want more than this. You were dangerously close to longing, to wanting more than he had.

But if you were friends with Ellie, he’d have to check in on you.

He considered drinking before seeking you out. That’s what he wanted to do, anyway. Drink or sleep and put this off. But he decided to bite the bullet and walked to your house. He frowned when he got there, the lamp in the entry way on. Joel remembered you turning it off when you got home the last time he was here. He remembered everything you did when he’d walked you here that night four months ago. But it was after nine. He’d never seen you in the Tipsy Bison, never seen you stay at the mess hall for a meal - always taking your food and all but fleeing with it. Ellie’s had been dark when you left. Where the hell were you?

He headed for the stable, not sure where else to check for you when a thought crossed his mind. What if you did have someone in town, someone Tommy hadn’t noticed? A place you’d be after dark when the day was done, someone who you didn’t ask to stop at the end of your walk, who got to run their fingers over your skin and feel how soft he knew you must be, who got to push his coat off your shoulders and undress you bit by bit.

Well, that would have to be a good thing, he thought to himself as his stomach twisted and his chest got tight. That would mean that you had ties to the community and he wouldn’t need to worry about checking in. He could keep his distance and try not to think about someone else touching you the way he wanted to touch you. Fuck, what if someone was touching you…

He tried to ignore the relief that was so deep he felt it in his marrow when he found you at the stables. No one else was around, even on the road outside and he didn’t think you were expecting anyone. You were in a stall with one of the horses, running a brush over her, still wearing his coat even though it was plenty warm and you were singing. It wasn’t loud - he got the impression you were trying to keep it down, to keep from drawing any unwanted attention and not spook the horse - but it was powerful, your voice strong and clear. Without the music - especially the bass line - it took him half a second to place the song, but you were singing The Chain. It was slower, more lilting and less forceful than what he was used to but he liked it. He smiled at that. He couldn’t remember the last time he heard someone singing Fleetwood Mac. Especially not someone who was good. Damn good. And you were, you were really fucking good.

If it had been before - before the outbreak, before he had the responsibility of being a father and he still had the dream of being a musician - and he heard you sing, he’d have approached you. Hoped to have latched onto your talent, your voice, hoped that you’d let him have anything to do with a sound like that. Now, he just listened to it, basked in it, let your voice seep into him as he tried to hold onto it, onto you.

You came to the end of the song and you hadn’t noticed him there, your usual hyper-vigilance lessened when you were focused on something else, and you pressed your forehead against the side of the horse’s head, saying something quietly to it that he couldn’t quite hear.

“You’re good,” Joel said. You jumped and spun, your eyes wide and doe-like, frantically looking for either a place to hide or a way to attack. He wasn’t sure which. He held up his hands as he pushed off the post he’d been leaning on. “S’OK, not going to hurt you, wasn’t tryin’ to scare you…”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Your body relaxed some and you picked up the brush that you’d dropped in your panic. “You can’t just sneak up on people like that!”

“Wasn’t tryin’ to sneak up on you,” he said, stepping closer. You watched him and adjusted, sticking close to the horse. “Promise. Just hadn’t heard someone singing that song in a long time and didn’t want to interrupt. You really are damn good.”

“Thanks,” you said, cautious and cagey as you moved to the other side of the horse.

“You play?” Joel asked, moving to the wall of the stall you were in. He propped his arms on the top of it, keeping his hands visible, hoping that would help make you less nervous.

“Play what?”

“Anything,” he laughed a little. “Just sound like you know what you’re doin’ with music so I was wonderin’ if you played.”

You looked at the horse, starting to brush her side.

“Yeah,” you said after a minute. “Yeah. It’s been a few years, but I play. Could play. Sure I could play again if I had the chance.”

“What do you play?” He asked, watching you, the tension slowly leaving your body.

“Guitar,” you said, focusing on the horse and not looking at him. “Piano, violin and fiddle, drums. Like a kit, don’t know much about full percussion, don’t want me on a marimba or something…”

“So you really know music,” he smiled a little, picturing you with a guitar, your hair falling forward as you bent over the body of the instrument in your arms.

“Somethin’ like that,” you stopped brushing and looked up at him. “Can I help you with anything or do you just like spying on people?”

“I was hoping to talk with you actually,” he said. “If you have a minute.”

“I’m just grooming Renaissance here,” you said, nodding to the mare. You kept the horse’s body between him and you. “Now’s a good a time as any.”

“Why are you here so late?” Joel frowned. “You need more help in the stables? Because shouldn’t need to work all…” “I like being here,” you cut him off, defensive. “Renaissance came back covered in burrs today so I figured I’d give her a good once over. I don’t have to be here, I want to be here.”

“OK,” he said gently.

“OK,” you said, a little calmer, looking back at the horse, brushing her again. “What did you want?”

“Wanted to see how you’re doing is all,” he said. You looked at him with narrowed eyes over the back of the horse. “And talk to you about addin’ you to the patrol rotation.”

You frowned at that.

“Patrol?” You said. You had the doe eyes again. “Like… leave Jackson. Go lookin’ for trouble.”

“Not lookin’ for trouble,” he smiled a little. “Just checkin’ in on what’s goin’ on nearby and intervening before there’s trouble. Think you’d be good at it.”

“What would I need to do?” You asked.

“We’d need to make sure you can shoot,” he said. “Already know you can ride just fine.”

You snorted at that.

“Pretty sure you can spot a threat from about a mile out,” he teased a little and your eyes met his, less big and scared this time. Instead they were sharp - in the clever way - and soft.

“I can shoot,” you said. “And I’m good at watching for threats. Except when they’re you sneakin’ up on me at the stable, apparently.”

Joel shrugged.

“Maybe you just know I’m not a threat.”

“Do I?” You asked, head cocked.

“Still wearin’ my coat,” he said. “Don’t think you’d do that if you thought I was a threat.”

Your eyes narrowed.

“I get cold.”

“And I’m not a threat,” he said. “At least, not to you.”

You finished brushing the horse and put your hand on her haunch as you came around back of her to the wall of the stall. You stood in front of him, the closest you’d ever been to him voluntarily. His breath hitched.

“So how’s it work?” You asked, looking up at him.

“How’s what work?” He’d damn near forgotten what he was talking with you about.

You smiled a little.

“Patrol. How’s it work?”

“Right,” he said quickly. “Well, I’ll take you out sometime in the next few days here, test your shooting. Assuming you’re good with that, you’ll go out with me’n Tommy for a bit, make sure you’re OK with it, then we’ll work you into the regular rotation. You’ll go out every few weeks, usually with the same partner so you’ll get used to workin’ with someone.”

You nodded slowly.

“And I’d be armed, right?” You asked. “Assuming that’s why you’d need to know that I can shoot?”

“Yeah, Bambi,” he laughed a little. “Not gonna send you out there without a gun.”

“OK,” you nodded slowly. “I can do that.”

You opened the stall and put the brush away before getting a blanket, Joel watching you the whole time.

You frowned.

“Anything else?”

“Figured I’d walk you home,” he said. “Assuming you’re done here…”

You looked at him for a second, considering him.

“OK.”

You went back into the stall and put the blanket over the horse and gave her a quick scratch and whispered something to her before closing the stall behind her. You shoved your hands in your pockets and started off, Joel careful to be close but not so close that you tensed up and watched him, all vigilant caution.

“So,” he said after you’d been walking for a minute. “You likin’ it OK? Jackson, I mean?”

“I think so,” you frowned a little. “It’s hard to really know. Haven’t been around people like this in so long, feels a little like I’ve been dropped onto an alien planet and I’m still figurin’ it all out.”

Joel nodded.

“I was the same way, comin’ here,” he said. “‘Course I’d been in a QZ for the 15 or so years before but that was different, place was nothin’ like here. But I had Tommy’n Ellie when I got here… Still. It took adjusting.”

“So you’re Ellie’s dad?” You looked up at him, your hands in the pockets of the coat, your brows drawn together.

“No,” he sighed, though that felt like a lie to say. He felt like Ellie’s dad. He felt like Ellie’s dad more than he felt like he was anything else that mattered. “But I’m her guardian. We traveled here together, from Boston. She had family out this way, or we thought she did, anyway. Hired me to bring her out here since I was heading west, anyway, lookin’ for Tommy. Her people were gone before we got here and… Well, by then I didn’t want to leave ‘er anyway…”

You nodded, a sense of understanding in your eyes before you looked at the ground.

“So she’s your daughter in the ways that matter,” you said, looking back at him after a moment.

“Yeah,” Joel nodded.

“And you did something that pissed ‘er off good,” you said, smiling a little.

“Yeah,” Joel said, laughing once at the simplification of it. “Somethin’ like that. Yeah. It was the right choice but I understand why she’s mad. Don’t expect her to forgive me for it, but… I hope she will. I hope she’ll understand, one day.”

“Kids are hard,” you said, looking straight ahead. “But she’s a smart kid. She’ll understand it at some point, if it really was the right thing.”

Joel nodded. He wasn’t sure Ellie would ever see it as the right thing. But that was OK. He knew it was. Anything that kept her alive was the right thing. That was all he needed.

“You’re friends with her,” he said. He’d meant to ask it but it hadn’t come out that way.

“She decided we were friends,” you smiled a little. “But… I like her. She’s… she’s something else.”

“Yeah, she’s definitely that,” Joel laughed.

He stopped at the gate to your front walk and you stood in front of him, your hands in the pockets of the coat you’d kept, looking up at him and fuck he wanted to kiss you. He wanted to take your face in his hand and pull your mouth to his and kiss you. The moonlight caught on your hair and made your eyes shine and he wondered if you’d taste sweet, he felt like you would.

“When is good to do the shooting stuff?” You asked.

“Tomorrow work?” He asked, both hands firmly in the pockets of his jeans so he wouldn’t do something stupid. “Afternoon?”

“Yeah,” you nodded after thinking for a second. “Shouldn’t have any patrols coming or going then, should be able to leave the stable for a few hours, be back in time for the evening feed.”

You gave him a tight smile and opened the gate, closing it behind you, the signal clear: he stayed on that side of it.

“Thanks,” you said. “For walkin’ me.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, no problem.”

He watched you head up your walk and, before he could stop himself, called out.

“I have a guitar.”

You stopped and turned, frowning.

“What?”

“If you ever wanted to try playin’ again,” he said. “I have a guitar, you can come by… Borrow it. If you want.”

Your face lit up at that.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Anytime you want. Just… just come by.”

You nodded.

“Thanks,” you smiled, a little wider that time. “I might do that. Night, Joel.”

He took a long look at you.

“Night, Bambi.”

Next Chapter

A/N: Joel just might have a bit of a crush here and Bambi might just be less freaked out by Joel than she is everyone else in town.

Hey, progress!

I do have a taglist but Tumblr is making it a mess so whether it works is questionable. HOWEVER I will add you if you ask in the comments below :) Whether it works or not is up to the Tumblr Gods.

Thank you so much for being here! I appreciate you taking the time to read this and for following along with Joel and Bambi's journey. It means the world. Love you!!

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust@ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost@beccerjune@mumma-moonchild@netonetoneto@mellymbee@purplelye@n7cje@flugazi@evyiione@randomhoex@aliengirl99@orcasoul@reds-ramblings@pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x oc #yearling #tlou fanfiction

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beels-burger-babe · 3 years

Text

A Pain You'll Soon Regret - Pt. 2

Poly! MC Summary: MC and the demon lords get in a fight resulting in MC leaving. They planned on going to Purgatory Hall until things cool off, but they never quite make it there. Ft. Poly!MC

TW: Heavy Angst, Violence, I don't know what to tag this, but there is a pretty nasty verbal fight, Gore/Injury Vomit Part 1: HERE, Part 3: HERE, Part 4: HERE

Meanwhile at the House of Lamentation

Your leaving hadn't made the situation at the House any better. Asmodeus threw his hands up in the air and glared at the rest. "Great! Just wonderful! Now they've run off. Happy now?" venom filled his words, but he could feel his heart race in fear that he had just lost the one person who loved him for more than his looks. Satan scoffed, though he glanced at the door through the corner of his eyes. "Don't act like you're better than us. I didn't see you standing up for them." Levi growled and went straight to his room as Satan and Asmodeus began to argue. Beel took a step towards to door you had just marched out of and glance between it and his brothers. "Should we go after them? It's dark and they're drunk."

Lucifer lifted his chin as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Why should we? It's like they said, they don't want to depend on us anymore, fine. Let them see for themself how far they get without our protection," with those words, Lucifer turned on his heel and stormed to his office.

Beel sighed and looked at Belphie, "What do you think? We can go get them together?" Belphie stared at the door for a minute, a guilty look in his eyes, before he shook his head. "Give them space, Beel. They're probably heading for Purgatory Hall. Simeon and the others can take care of them for tonight. Right now we all just need to calm down before facing each other again," he patted his twin's shoulder before heading to their room; regret swirling in his stomach as he thought of how he betrayed you once more.

Mammon stood frozen staring at the door like he still hadn't made up his mind on what he wanted to do. His instincts screamed at him to get you back in his arms and keep you there. You were his human, reckless or not, and he had a duty to protect you both as your assigned protector and as your boyfriend. But for some reason, he couldn't seem to move his feet. His mind replayed the discussion in his head over and over again. He had once told MC that if they couldn't be saved by him, to make sure that they died. That he was the only one allowed to protect them. Tonight, as everyone was fighting, MC needed him to protect them, but instead, he pushed them towards the wolves. He let his greed get the best of him. "Fuck," Mammon cursed to himself as he shook himself out of his thoughts. He glanced over to see Beel restraining Satan from pouncing onto a sneering Asmodeus. He sighed and shook his head. They hadn't fought like this in a long time. You had always been there to put them into their place. Now look at them. Mammon groaned and ran a hand over his face. "Will you guys cut it out? MC is gone, okay? Ain't nothin' we can do about it now," to his surprise, his younger brothers actually stopped and seemed to be listening to him. Mammon huffed and began walking towards the stairs. "It's like Belphie said. We ain't in no place to make things better right now. Fightin' like this is what got us in this position, so quit it. Get some sleep. We'll figure it all in the mornin'." Beel, Satan and Asmodeus blinked at their older brother as he disappeared upstairs. Seeing Mammon mature and take control of the situation like that, was strange, but not unfamiliar. Asmodeus massaged his temples with one hand and fixed his hair with the other. "Ugh, all this fighting is going to be horrid for my skin," he glanced at the door one more time with a defeated look before heading towards his room. Satan clenched and unclenched his hands a couple of times, taking a few deep breaths, before silently nodding at Beel and walking away. All alone, Beel stepped towards the door. He opened it and looked out at the dark vast of the Devildom before him. With a heavy, guilty heart, he closed the door and pressed his forehead against it. He used one hand to lock the door for the evening, while the other pulled out his D.D.D. The others didn't want him going after you, but a message couldn't hurt, right? He opened your contact and wrote out his text, "Hey MC. I'm sorry for how things happened tonight. Things got out of hand, and I'm sorry for not doing anything to stop that. I know you and the others are upset right now, but I was hoping that tomorrow, once we're all calm, you could come back home and we could talk about it?" Beel sat by the door for half an hour waiting for a response, but none ever came. He frowned and glanced up at the locked door handle before shaking his head. "Maybe they left it on silent for a bit," he mumbled to himself before picking up his phone once more. "Text me when you get to Purgatory Hall. You don't need to say anything else. I just want to know you're safe." With that, Beel headed towards the gym. He wasn't tired. He wasn't hungry. He just wanted you home, but he couldn't have that. So in the meantime, he'd stay awake until he at least knew you were safe.

Only the morning came and went, and there was no word from you. The brothers were starting to get concerned. No matter what was said last night, they still loved you. You all needed to talk, yes, and things needed to be worked out, but that didn't change how they felt for you. They would never want to see you hurt. Lucifer had reached out to Simeon, while Asmodeus contacted Solomon and Beel texted Luke. Only Beel received a response. "Never contact me again. If you come anywhere near Purgatory Hall, I will not hesitate to smite you in an instant, you foul fiend?" Satan read out loud as he passed the phone back to a very confused and worried Beel. "What in the world did you do to him?" "Nothing. At least, I don't think," he thought about for a second. "I've stolen his baked goods on occasion, but besides complaining about as I did it, he never seemed to hold a grudge." Lucifer frowned deeply. "This is clearly about MC. Luke has taken to them as though they're his older sibling."

Levi scowled and pressed a few buttons on his game. "Sure they aren't dating him too?" he yelped as Asmodeus smacked him on the back of the head. "Stop it," Asmodeus growled. "I know you're the Avatar of Envy, Levi, but MC was open and honest with us. They told us that they loved us all and that they wanted a relationship with all of us. We all listened to what they offered and agreed. You agreed to this!"

Levi huffed and put down his game. "Because it was better than not having them at all!" he sighed and put an arm over his face. "I know that they love me, and them being with a-all of us doesn't change that, but it's so hard sometimes. I-I-I just-" "Want 'em to yourself?" Mammon provided. Levi blushed and nodded in response. Mammon shrugged and sat down beside him. "We all understand that Levi. This is somethin' new for all of us. When I see MC bein' sweet with you guys I get this urge to just rip 'em off ya and hold 'em tight in my arms where ya guys can never touch 'em again," he sighed and put a hand on Levi's shoulder, "but then I see MC smile at me the same way they smile at Beel or you or Lucifer. I know that when I'm holdin' them, they're thinkin' of me and they're there with me because they treasure our time together. It's hard sometimes, and it hurts to admit, but you guys make MC happy, and I can't take that away from them." He nudged his younger brother gently, "Neither can you." Everyone sat quietly as they thought of Mammon's words. "They always bring me snacks after my workouts," Beel said with a small smile. "They always seem to know when I'm hungry and would just whip out snacks out of nowhere." Satan leaned onto his knees from where he sat on his chair. "They ordered me their favourite books from the human world on Akuzon. They wanted to do a trade. I'd read their favourites and they'd read mine. That way we could learn a bit about each other just by reading something that the other loved and would understand one another a little better." Belphie tiredly rubbed his eyes and leaned against Beel. "They wake me up after all class and before any meals," he chuckled softly at the memory. "No matter how much I snarled or insulted them, they'd just put their hands on their hips and patiently wait for me to wake up so that I wouldn't miss any of my classes or any meals."

Asmodeus giggled and smiled brightly. "That alone proves how much of an angel they are. Your demon side really shows when you're woken up." The others laughed as Belphegor stuck his tongue out at Asmo. "They would always give me their opinion on my outfits. I know it seems impossible, but even I get torn between which outfit I should bless the public with sometimes. MC would always be the voice of reason to help me choose," his eyes softened, "Though they always said at the end that the most beautiful thing about me was my heart, something no one could see but radiated from the outside-in." Lucifer sighed, closing his eyes as he put aside his pride, and spoke. "They check on me in the middle of the night. I swear they have an alarm. They'll come into my office to see if I'm still awake. If I am, so long as the work isn't truly urgent, they'll poke my cheek and play with my hair until I give in and go to bed."

Everyone turned to Levi. The otaku's face was bright red as he avoided everyone's gaze. "Your turn, Levi," Mammon ordered. "Come on. I know that MC's super gentle with ya. Ya have to have somethin' to add." Leviathan pouted before mumbling. "They'll hold my hand when we're in crowds and in public because they know how anxious it makes me. If I start to freak out, they'll just gently squeeze my hand and pull me along until they can find a quiet space where I can calm down a bit," he groans and glares at Mammon. "What's your point?"

"His point," Satan began calmly, "is that MC loves us all equally. They take special care to do the little things to ensure that we all know that we are loved by them." Mammon nodded and pointed and Satan. "Exactly!" Lucifer hummed in thought. "Though this doesn't fix the problem of MC having no regard for their own safety." Everyone winced. There was no denying that. You admitted it yourself. You were reckless, and in a place like the Devildom, that kind of behaviour would get you killed one day. What would happen if you weren't with them one day? Just like you currently weren't. Memories of your storm out swirled in all of their heads, and concern pooled heavily in their stomachs. "Has anyone heard from them yet?" Belphie asked, looking uncharacteristically nervous. But then again, he was always protective of you as he never wanted you to get hurt again, especially since he had been responsible for so much of your pain in the past. Beel opened his mouth to respond when Asmodeus's D.D.D. went off. Everyone eagerly stood, as Asmo pulled out the device and answered it without checking. "MC? Are you alright?" "Put it on speaker!" Levi snapped, crowding as close to his brother as he could. Asmodeus nodded and quickly did as told. The voice that answered wasn't you, as they had all hoped, but rather Solomon. "I'm afraid they're not," the brother's felt their blood freeze at Solomon's words, as time seemed to stand still around them. Solomon's voice was cold and stern, showing his obvious anger at the demons. "I apologize for not contacting you all sooner, but I was spending every last second of my time and energy on trying to keep MC from dying of blood loss. That, and Luke is quite determined to keep the lot of you as far from MC as possible. If it was up to him I wouldn't even be calling you all right now. I, however, figured that you should at least be made aware of their condition." None of them heard a thing after the words "dying from blood loss" reached their ears. Lucifer took the D.D.D. from Asmo's shaking hands. "What happened? The last we saw them they-" "Presumably walked away from a fight with all of you and was trying to come to us. Yes. I'm aware. I read Beelzebub's texts on MC's phone," everyone glanced at Beel. His brows narrowed as he kept his eyes fixed on the D.D.D. "To answer your question, MC didn't make it to Purgatory Hall last night. They were jumped by a group of three demons who seemed to think that human would make a delectable midnight snack. What do you think, Beelzebub? Is that true? Is the taste of human flesh, really so delicious? I think I've heard you comment as much once or twice before you all began your relationship," Solomon spat the words accusingly. Fury danced on his tongue as though he was Wrath himself. Beel winced back and put a hand on his stomach as flipped inside of him. Belphie growled at the mention in his defence. "Stop dancing around the subject and get to the point. What happened? Are they okay?" The demons were surprised to hear a snarl come from the other end. "I already told you, they aren't. Luke had opened a window to air out some of the kitchens after he failed a new recipe he was trying out when he heard their screams. By the time we got there one of them had eaten half of their right leg, while was one biting along their shoulder, and the other was trying to choke them to death. Simeon and I were able to get the heathens off of them and incinerated them on the spot, but MC was already unconscious. While we were fighting the demons, Luke was just barely able to cast enough healing spells to stop the bleeding and stabilize them. Simeon and I have been working ever since on using every spell, charm, and potion that we know to keep them alive and somehow attempt to heal their injuries." At the mention of MC's leg have been mostly eaten, Beel turned and threw up on the ground. No one moved to comfort him, as they were too distracted by their own states of shock. "A-Are-" Mammon began to choke out before clearing his throat. "Are they

alive? Please tell me they're alive." The answer hung just out of their grasp. Waving dangerously above them like a deadly knife held up by a string. No matter what the response would be, all the brothers felt as though they may faint. "They're alive. Simeon had to use all his power to bring their blood count levels up to a healthy level, and their shoulder was dislocated, they most likely have a concussion going off of their head injury, not to mention their right leg was unsalvagable and had to be amputated, but yes. They are, at the very least, alive." Mammon joined Beel. Satan stood still, though he had changed into his demon form and the aura of pure wrath filled every cranny of the room. Asmodeus held a hand over his mouth as tears streamed steadily down his face. Leviathan had stumbled away from the group and was in the beginning stages of a panic attack. Belphie stared at the phone with a bewildered expression, his eyes pricked with tears, as though he couldn't believe the words coming from Solomon's mouth.

Lucifer was doing everything he could not to hurl the phone across the room.

Solomon continued. "Luke is currently watching them and making sure that they remain stable, while Simeon and I rest. As such, you will have no luck if you try to see them right now. I'll text you when I wake up and then you can come to see them," with that, Solomon hung up. Anxiety, grief, and remorse clung to each of the brothers like a new skin. Earlier they were arguing that all of them had your love, and because of that, all of them had nearly lost you. ***Duh duh duh!!! Part three to come. Part three will probably be the final part, but I don't know. Haven't quite figured out how this is going to end yet. Though a heads up, a may fill out another request before pt. 3 is up just to give me a break from the heavy angst. Thank you all so much for supporting me! And thank you to @millenniumofpain for the request!***

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iam93percentstardust · 3 years

Note

Haii so i have a promot for you, it’s stuckony and it’s based around a carrie Underwood song called “ Renegade Runaway “

So basically Steve and Bucky are outlaw, who rob trains, banks, and gamble

Tony is a sharffes and teacher kid, who is also one hell of a gunslinger (like Doc holiday,bat masterson, and Wyatt earp), he’s also a blacksmith

Also happy early birthday! 💙

Thank you for the birthday wishes! This ended up being a lot sadder than I originally intended and I wasn't able to include everything, but I hope it still lives up to expectations!

As always, this fic is also on ao3

Tony has his pistol out almost before the door closes behind him. He peers into the darkness of the yard behind the smithy, silently complaining about his eyes taking too long to adjust from the bright fires to the gathering twilight. It puts him at a disadvantage for whoever is waiting out there for him.

“Aw darlin’, is that any way to greet your two favorite outlaws?” someone drawls.

Tony snorts and holsters the pistol again. “Two outlaws, you might be, but my favorites? Far from it,” he snarks.

Bucky Barnes steps into the light spilling out from the window, hand dramatically placed over his heart. “Tony, that cuts me to the quick. Really, the cruelty of your words, they break my heart.”

“Uh-huh,” Tony says, unimpressed. He turns his back on Bucky and locks the smithy door. Peter will leave through the front when he’s finished sweeping and extinguished the lights. Everything else is already stored in the backroom for the night, so there’s no reason he needs to worry about leaving the door unlocked, though he certainly could. Timely isn’t the sort of town that invites trouble, not like some of the lawless towns further west.

When he turns back around, Bucky has moved closer, nearly looming over him. Tony leans back against the door, letting Bucky press against him. Bucky will do it anyway, it’s easier to just give in to him now instead of putting up a fight they both know he doesn’t want.

“You gonna apologize for bein’ so mean?” Bucky breathes into his ear.

“No,” Tony says flatly, crossing his arms. “It’s the honest truth.”

It’s not. Nearly everyone in Timely knows Tony’s sweet on Bucky and his partner, who must be around here somewhere since Bucky mentioned both of them. But it wouldn’t do to be too easy for them. He’s not one of Natasha’s girls after all, giggly and flirtatious and willing to turn their skirts up for a little bit of coin. He likes to make his boys work to get him soft and smiling.

“Now that’s just an outright lie,” someone else says. Tony turns his head to see Steve’s bright blue eyes much closer than he’d expected given that he’d only sensed one of them in the yard earlier. “You love us.”

“Don’t,” Tony denies, turning his head in the other direction so he doesn’t have to see either of them. Steve may be right, Tony isn’t nearly as annoyed by them as he pretends, but loving the two of them makes his life so very hard that it’s easier to pretend he doesn’t have any feelings for them.

“Tony,” Steve murmurs.

Tony stubbornly refuses to look at them. These two outlaws waltz into town all too rarely, typically on the heels of some mess that’ll raise the rewards on their heads yet again, and turn Tony’s life upside down for the brief time they’re in Timely, only to break his heart when they inevitably leave. Sometimes, he wishes he’d never met them.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he whispers eventually, keeping his eyes fixed on the side of the saloon down the street. “The sheriff’s in town tonight. If he catches wind of you—you know Howard wants to be the one to bring you in.”

“Your father’s on a wild goose chase, honey,” Bucky says. “He got word we were hiding out in Howling Canyon.”

“Are you?”

“Do we look like we’re in Howling Canyon?” Steve asks amusedly.

“No. I meant when you’re not—” He stops, biting back the last few words. When they’re not in his bed, he means, but he can’t bring himself to say that. After an awkward pause, he finishes, “When you’re not in town.”

“No,” Steve assures him. “We’re staying—”

“Don’t tell me where,” Tony interrupts, finally turning back to look at them. They both look worried, and he wonders if they know how tired he is of this game they’ve been playing for five years. “You know I’ll have to tell Howard if he asks.”

Not that Howard would. The sheriff is one of the few people who doesn’t know that his son houses the two outlaws when they’re in Timely. He couldn’t even imagine that his son would dare defy him under his nose like that. But both Steve and Bucky know what happens when Tony doesn’t jump to Howard’s every order. They were the ones who took him to Dr. Banner’s after all, after Howard broke his arm for taking too long to finish the horseshoes for Jericho.

Steve’s eyes are stormy at the reminder of Howard’s wrath. Bucky’s mouth is set in a tight line. Neither of them approve of Howard. They’ve told Tony once before that they would take him away from here if only he would let them. But he won’t. There’s too much keeping him in Timely: his mother and Rhodey, even young Peter, who’s only been apprenticed to him for a few months. He can’t just go gallivanting off into the sunset, no matter how badly he wants to. And besides, he knows that the only reason they ask is so that he can get away from Howard. He doesn’t delude himself there. They’d let him go with them just out of range of Howard’s reach and then they’d cut him loose. It’s pity that makes them ask, not—not anything else.

“Just—” He sighs and ducks out from under Bucky’s arm. “Come on. Howard isn’t stupid. He’ll figure out you’re not in Howling Canyon eventually, and I’d like both your cocks at least once before he does.”

Tony once had aspirations of being one of the best gunslingers in the west. He had the best aim this side of the Mississippi and he was quick. He’d been planning on making a name for himself, same as his father had.

Bucky’s bullet through his left thigh had put an end to that dream real quick.

He’d been young—hardly even an adult—foolhardy, and unwilling to listen to Jarvis’ warnings that he wasn’t ready to take on Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, who’d been terrorizing the towns in their small territory for the last three years. He’d been so convinced that he would be the one to bring them in and collect on the bounty. He’d studied their movements, known how they thought, and when Timely had gotten word that the two outlaws had robbed a bank in Faircreek, he’d ridden off on his own toward Harshaw instead of Tombstone like all the evidence pointed to.

He’d been right; the trail to Tombstone had been a false one. But he hadn’t had long to rest on his laurels because he’d been noticed. Steve and Bucky hadn’t been as lax in their vigilance as he’d assumed and they’d lain in wait for him, ambushed him, and ultimately shot him.

To this day, he doesn’t know what drove the two outlaws to take him in instead of leaving him out there to die in the desert, but they had. They’d carefully nursed him back to health, taken care of him when his injury had led to fever, and eventually, after nearly two months together, brought him to their bed with sweet words and sweeter kisses. He’d thought he would have done anything for them after that night, but the next morning, they’d sent him back on his way to Timely with nothing more than a promise that they’d be dropping in to check on him. It had been kind, though the damage had already been done. Tony’s injury ensured he’d never be the gunslinger he’d once dreamt of and his heart had been shattered. He’d apprenticed with Happy, taken up blacksmithing as a trade, and moved out of his parents’ home and into a small house not far from the smithy as his bad leg kept him from walking any great distances.

And when Bucky and Steve had kept their promise and stopped by his house to see him, well, his resolve to send them packing had withered. He’d made sure no one had noticed them and welcomed them inside, his poor heart still beating against his ribs in the pattern of their names.

They love him, he thinks, or at least they love him as best as they can, which is to say they don’t love him as much as he loves them. They certainly don’t love him enough to take him with them. And he understands—he does, despite what Rhodey thinks. His bad leg is a hindrance to outlaws such as themselves, particularly when it isn’t like they have a home base they could leave him out while they go out to commit whatever crime has struck their fancy. No, they’ve been nomads for as long as Tony has known them, never tied down to any one place, and he’s grateful that they at least love him enough to stay in this area instead of moving on to greener pastures.

He checks that the street is clear and then hurries them into his home. It’s changed slightly since the last time Steve and Bucky were in Timely. Pepper gifted him with a rug to go in front of the fireplace six months ago and Peter’s aunt made him a series of sketches of the view from the top of Howling Canyon that he hung in the kitchen. But other than that, the house is much the same as it’s always been, and he isn’t surprised when neither Steve nor Bucky pay any attention to the changes in favor of following him to the bedroom.

They strip him in silence, hands so gentle he’d call them reverent if he didn’t know any better. But he does know better. They don’t love him enough to be reverent. Reverence is saved for each other, for how Steve looks at Bucky in the early dawn when he thinks they’re both still sleeping, for Bucky saving Steve an extra cup of coffee, for the way they know how to tack each other’s horses just as well as they know their own. Reverence isn’t saved for him.

But he treats themreverently. He’s always treated them that way, since the night they took him to their bed. He’s never known any other way to love. They had been his first, the ones to ruin him for all others, and a small part of him hates them for that even as he kisses them hungrily, savoring these few moments he gets to spend with them.

He goes to his knees for them, worships Bucky’s cock with his mouth while Steve undresses, then lays down for Steve to open him up. He lets them fuck him, moans their names while they whisper praises in his ear, and pretends that this is enough, that he doesn’t want more. He imagines it though, imagines Steve lifting him onto Nomad and following Bucky out of town, never to return.

Bucky falls asleep when they’re done—he always does—so Steve is the one who stands and finds a washcloth from somewhere in the house. He wipes the three of them off and then lays down on his side, facing Tony.

“You’re sad tonight,” he says quietly.

“No,” Tony denies. He doesn’t want them to know that he wants more, that he’d do just about anything to get it. They’ll only feel bad that they can’t give him what he wants, like it’s any fault of theirs.

“You are,” Steve insists. “You try to hide it, but you are.”

“Steve…”

“I won’t ask you.” Steve’s own eyes are sad as he reaches out to run delicate fingers over Tony’s face. “I know you wouldn’t tell me anyway. That’s okay; you’re entitled to your secrets, sweetheart.”

There’s something terribly earnest in Steve’s expression, something that Tony doesn’t think he’s seen before. And he’s so close to blurting it out, begging Steve for something he can’t have. He swallows the words back with difficulty and asks instead, “What did you two do this time?”

Steve shrugs as best as he can. “A train.”

“A—” Tony stills. “You didn’t. Steve, you couldn’t. You’ll bring the Marshals down on your heads.”

“Had to,” Steve says casually. “Was the only way to get enough.”

“Enough what?”

“Gold,” Bucky says from behind him, startling him.

It takes a moment for the word to sink in, but his breath comes faster as he realizes just what they’ve done. “You didn’t,” he repeats, sitting up. He scrambles to the end of the bed, as far away from Steve and Bucky as he can get. The outlaws sit up as well, leaning against the headboard as they watch him warily. “What were the two of you thinking? No, don’t answer that. I know exactly what you were thinking: you weren’t. Because if you were, you would have known better. Forget the Marshals, you’ll bring the whole damn army down on your heads. How could you have been so stupid?”

“We were thinking we’d like to get a house,” Steve says, cutting him off.

“A—a house?”

“Mmhmm,” Bucky agrees. “We found ourselves a little patch of land in California we’d like to settle down in. Needed one last robbery to get us enough money to buy it.”

Tony’s heart stops beating, he swears it does. “California,” he repeats faintly.

“Sure, they’ll never think to look for us in California.”

Bucky sounds so calm, as though he can’t see that Tony’s heart is breaking in front of them. How can he be so cruel? How can he just causally mention that they’re leaving him forever, as though the last five years mean nothing to them?

“When are you leaving?” he manages, and it shocks him how calm he sounds when he feels as though his grief is visible from the stars.

“Tomorrow,” Steve says. There’s something careful in the way he looks at Tony, like he at least might have some idea of what’s going through Tony’s head.

Tony repeats, “Tomorrow.” He nods, blinking furiously to try to clear his eyes of the treacherous tears he can feel welling up. He can’t let them know. They’re leaving tomorrow and he doesn’t want them to go. He knows it would have happened eventually. The lawless west is shrinking more and more each day. It’s only a matter of time before the law catches up to them. Their only option is to leave and go somewhere no one knows them. But does it have to be so soon? He’d thought they would have more time.

“So this is goodbye, then,” he says, twisting the bedcovers in his hands. He can’t look at them, too afraid they’ll know what’s racing through his head if he does.

“…Goodbye?” Steve asks. He sounds puzzled. Tony hates that. What right does he have to be confused? That’s for Tony, seeing as how he’s the one who’s been left out of the loop during all this. God above, how long have they been planning this? It must have been at least a year in the making.

“Yes, goodbye,” he says. “One last fuck to see you off, right?”

“One last… Tony,” Bucky says sharply, “do you think we’re plannin’ on leavin’ you here?”

Tony’s heart stops for the second time in as many minutes. “You’re not?” he asks, daring to peek at them. Steve looks horrified, Bucky thunderous as he leans forward to tug Tony into his arms. Tony doesn’t resist, too tired of pretending, too confused by the twists this conversation has taken to argue. Steve curls up against Bucky’s side, carding gentle fingers through Tony’s hair.

“Sweetheart, did you think we weren’t gone on you?” Steve asks, kissing his forehead. “We’ve been fallin’ for you since you figured out where we were goin’ and chased us down.”

“But you never asked me to come with you.”

“S’pose that’s my fault,” Bucky says gruffly. He gingerly touches the scar on Tony’s leg where Bucky’s bullet had ripped through him. “We saw how much pain you were in an’ we couldn’t bear to make it any worse. An’ that’s just what would have happened if you’d spent every night out there with us. We wanted to keep you safe, thought you’d be happier if you weren’t always in pain.”

“I wanted you,” Tony says, pressing a kiss to the underside of Bucky’s jaw. “I didn’t want to be left behind.”

“Yeah, we, uh, we get that now,” Steve mutters sheepishly. “Tony, say you’ll come with us this time. Don’t make us go off on our own this time. We want you to come, can’t imagine a future that doesn’t have you in it.”

He should argue. He should remind them that in the five years they’ve been riding off and leaving him at home, he’s built a life. He has a business and an apprentice and a little house that he likes. He’s not the wide-eyed child he once was, dreaming of adventure. But then, neither are Steve and Bucky, if they really do mean that they’re going to get to California and settle down.

“Darlin’?”

The next morning, Peter arrives at the smithy to find the backdoor locked and the fire cold. He frowns; it’s not like Tony to still be home at this hour. He turns on his heel and heads to Tony’s house. It’s as dark as the smithy is though it doesn’t look like anything is out of place.

Tony is nowhere to be seen. He wonders for an instant if Tony spent the night at Rhodey’s, as he sometimes does when it’s been too long between Steve and Bucky’s visits (though Peter isn’t supposed to know anything about the outlaws). He turns to leave, planning on heading over to Rhodey’s to ask if he’s seen Tony this morning, only to catch a glimpse of something on the kitchen table, glinting in the early morning sunlight pouring in from the door.

Curious, he wanders over to find a single gold coin—and a letter addressed to him. Peter immediately pockets the coin and then opens the letter. It’s written in Tony’s messy scrawl and he reads it eagerly, hoping it’ll tell him where Tony’s gone.

Peter,

I hope you’ve spotted this. The coin is for you. Under the bed, there’s a pouch full of more coins, but those are for Happy. They should be enough to drag Happy out of the quiet life to finish your apprenticeship. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay, but it was time to move on.

If anyone asks where I’ve gone, tell them I’ve run away to California.

Tony

#alle writes #alle answers #stuckony #if you like please reblog #nsfk #ish

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cultgambles · 3 years

Text

Is Your Boyfriend Jealous Yet?

Hawks likes putting on a show, can you blame him?

I was on GWA and this girl had a nice fun plot and audio and I was really feeling it in the moment hehe...so largely inspired by that!

Contains: nsfw, car sex, reader cheats, cunnilingus, exhibition, fandom hawks behavior

Also: wrap it before you tap it

Word Count: 2118

Masterlist | Requests? open

“So there I was, staring this villain down at the end of the street, and then he just appeared! My idol!”

“Endeavor? What did he do?”

“Of course he didn’t waste any time taking em down, it was cool and all to see it but he really took the spotlight, ya know?”

“Oh please, as if you need to be loved by the public anymore.”

“I do! That’s who I am!”

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

“Who’s that chick staring at you?”

Hawks turns, looking over his shoulder, “I dunno, a fan maybe? She’s coming over!”

“Act natural!”

“I am a natural. All nat-ur-ral.” He smooths down his silky burgundy button up shirt.

“Hey! Hawks?”

“The one and only!” Hawks gives a dazzling style, saluting towards you.

“I just wanted to say how cool you are, every time you employ your Quirk I’m amazed! And you’re not too bad to look at either!” you giggle.

“Thanks, kid,” he smiles, a real one. “People like you are the ones that make hero work worth it.”

“Yeah? Do you have time to chat? My name’s [Y/N], by the way. Are your wings okay? They look a little sparse.”

“‘Course I have time to chat. You wanna drink? Hey! One Lemon Drop for the lady, if you will!”

“Coming right up!”

“My most recent showdown against a villain. No biggie, they’ll grow back in a couple days.” Hawks turns a little so you can see the appendages where his feathers would usually be. There’s little small ones beginning to peek through.

“Wow! I don’t think I saw that fight on the news or anything,” you murmur.

“I’m okay with doin’ it in silence, as long as it gets done, you know?

It’s nice knowing people are safe and that there’s one less piece of shit on the street. But it’s also hard work” he continued.

“The man who’s just a bit too fast, huh? You ever get tired?” you query. “Thanks for the drink, by the way.”

“No problem! And yeah, it’s hard to slow down, and I know I need to; but I always feel like I’m bein’ too lazy when I could be out there in the field.”

Hawks is surprised, he’s never been this forward and vulnerable. Especially to a complete stranger. Maybe it was that gin and tonic he had earlier.

Your mouth opens, but before you can say anything, a booming voice cuts through the crowd.

“[Y/N] What the hell are you doing! Get over here!” Your face falls slightly, and Hawks notices with a curious, but watchful gaze.

“I just saw Hawks here! I’ve never been this close to a pro hero before, and I wanted to say my thanks,” you mumble.

“Well I don’t like my girlfriend wandering off and talking to other guys, regardless if they’re a hero or not. Come on, we’re leaving!”

“But we just got here!” you protest.

“Now, [Y/N],” he growls, shoving you away from the pro hero, and towards the door.

“Hey, buddy,” Hawks clamps a hand on your boyfriend’s shoulder, holding him in place. “Don’t go pushing women around.”

“This isn’t even your problem, man.”

“I’m going to make it my problem.” Hawks is deadly, intimidating. Even though you’re a little scared, you’re a bit turned on, to be honest. He’s got this air of danger around him, his eyes slit to pinpricks.

Before your boyfriend can get another word out, one of the club bouncers steps up, towering over the three of you. “Problem here? Or am I going to have to escort you out?”

“Nah, man, we’ll take it outside. Don’t worry about us,” Hawks shrugs. Your boyfriend tugs you along, seething behind Hawks.

“This isn’t over, Hawks. And you, don’t you EVER cause a scene like that, you hear?”

You sniff. “I just wanted to say my thanks…”

“She was doin’ nothin’, that was all you man.” Hawks shakes his head. “I’d even say she was more into me than she has been in a while. I mean, the way you shouted at her was pretty scary,” he says, popping the ‘p.’

You look at Hawks under your lashes.

“No she wasn’t!” your boyfriend drops your arm, marching right up to the pro hero.

Hawks leans around him and nods his head at you. “Why don’t we show him a thing or two?” You give him a puzzled look. “My car’s right there if you know what I mean.”

“Hold on, you have a car? How would you even fit your wings in.”

“Baby, you’re ruining the moment,” Hawks laughs, stepping in next to you. “I just take my car for a spin when I can’t fly. Not a walking type of guy, really.”

“So let me get this straight, you wanna fuck me? In your car? For why?”

“Give a little show to your asshole of a boyfriend. So he can see how to really treat a woman, hm?”

“Don’t you go with him, [Y/N]! I will literally kill you.”

“Is that really the smartest thing to say right next to a pro hero? Okay, Hawks, what that tongue do?” You purr.

“I’ll show you,” Hawks’ car’s doors unlock with a click. “Get in the back.”

Your boyfriend outside looks right mad, shouting and screaming at you. You swear a crowd has formed.

Hawks lays down and motions a finger for you. You shut the door behind you, and it’s just you two in this moment, boyfriend be damned.

“Hold onto the headrests, okay, baby?” Hawks asks as you situate yourself above his mouth.

“Lucky for me, you’re just wearing that cute little skirt and skimpy top. What, did you want every guy to turn heads for you?” Hawks grips your plush thighs, digging his nose to your panties. “All that from earlier really got you goin’, huh? Look how wet you are for me.” He kisses your clothed sex before pulling your underwear to the side. A long, languid lick all the way up to your clit has you shivering with pleasure, begging for more.

You’re grinding down on Hawks’ tongue, he’s just that fucking good. You briefly wonder how many other people have experienced this ecstasy. At least you have him for this moment.

Breathy squeaks leave your mouth as his mouth catches on particular spots.

“Let it out, I wanna hear you. I want him to hear what I’m doing to you.” Locking eyes with your boyfriend outside the car sends you over the edge, his face as bright as the heels on your feet. His eyes dim slightly just as yours slip closed, mouth agape. Hawks continues to pleasure you as you come down from your high.

Carefully, he lifts you up to sit you on his lap. A little cramped, but worth it. Your wetness glistens along Hawks’ jawline, and you lean in to kiss him, tasting yourself and him.

“That’s cute,” he whispers, bringing his hands up to knead at your breasts slightly. His gold eyes shimmer as you rub against his cock.

“Gonna show me your cute dick next?” you ask.

“It’s cute, like, big, not cute as in small. Just so you know. How about you lay down, baby,” he turns towards you slightly, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his black trousers. His cock is nice. As nice as one can be. It’s a little thicker, curved to the left a bit. He’s trimmed. He strokes it a couple times, dragging his precum along the shaft. You flick your panties off and they land on his head.

“Impatient, are we?” he grins.

“Just a bit,” you smile, reaching between your legs to spread yourself open a bit for him to see.

“Pretty pussy for a pretty girl,” he leans over, hand guiding to your quivering sex. He pushes in slowly, letting out a deep moan be swallowed up by your kiss. “You’re so tight around me.”

He lets you adjust, and not long after, you’re clawing at him to start moving. “Feels so good, you fill me up so good, Hawks.”

“They’re all watching us now, hummingbird. I bet they’re jealous at how good I’m fucking you,” he says over his grunts.

You’re bleary-eyed and blissed out, barely registering his words. “Who...Who’re they?”

“Seems like your little boyfriend’s screaming match has attracted quite a crowd.”

“O-oh? How big?”

“Enough.”

“You wanna get out, don’t you.”

“Maybe.”

“Yeah okay, whatever you want, Hawks. Who am I to deny a pro hero what he wants? Just keep fucking me, please.”

Hawks’ eyes flash, hand scrambling for the door handle and pulling you out into the brisk air. “Really? Whatever I want? How about I just bend you over the trunk of my car and rail you so hard you can’t walk tomorrow?”

“Then I guess you’re stuck with me for a lil while longer.” Hawks pushes your head down almost gently as he presses into you against the cool metal. You sigh as he slips back inside of you. Then he’s pulling your top down to your waist, your breasts squishing against the dirt and dust. A few people whoop. Somehow, you don’t care that everyone can see, or that camera flashes are blinding your vision. The way he drills into you makes you even forget how you even got into this situation to begin with.

“What about the--” you moan “--press?”

“Don’t give a fuck about them, none at all. My PR team could probably cover it up, I don’t know. Don’t wanna think about that. Y’all see this? Her nasty ass boyfriend was fuckin’ rippin’ on her, treating her like shit on a stick. No one should treat a woman like that, ya hear?” he’s loud, addressing the people around you. “Well, I guess ex boyfriend would be appropriate. What do you think, [Y/N]?”

“Y-yeah You’re right! Oh! OH! Hawks.”

“C’mon songbird, sing me that song,” he says right next to your ear, sucking a hickey into your neck.

“[Y/N], baby, how could you do this to me?” your boyfriend pleads. Ex-boyfriend, you mean.

“That’s what you get for being a shit. And you’re not even that mad, you’re enjoying yourself too,” you moan to him. “Hawks is technically police, you don’t want him to throw you in jail, now do you?”

“He wouldn’t, he can’t! I didn’t really do anything.”

“I can and I will,” Hawks growls.

“You’re just using your privilege!”

“Yeah,” Hawks agrees. “But then again, I’m sure I could find some dirt on you.”

“Haw--”

“Yes baby?” his attention snaps to you.

Your ex was never this attentive. It gave you butterflies. You swallowed them to let him know you were close.

If he had his feathers, they would surely flush out.

“Come on, birdie, cream on my cock, I know you can do it.” He reaches around your waist to swipe at your clit.

“Nnnggft,” you moan, your cunt seizing up, the pressure building. It explodes, sending a chill down your spine.

“Yes baby, keep up for me, I’m right behind ya...” Hawks thrusts impossibly faster, chasing his own climax, loving the way your sex flutters around him.

“[Y/N] I’m--” Hawks’ voice dies out as he shoots thick ropes of cum in you, white seed painting your insides.

The both of you struggle to catch your breaths. Hawks leans over you, massaging your hips. “Why don’t we take this back to your place and finish up?”

“Why not yours?” You laugh, running a hand over his sweat sheened forehead and into his unruly blonde hair.

“Security? At least take me on a date,” he laughs.

You sigh with contempt. “Okay, Hawks. Okay.” He nuzzles your neck slightly, pulling out of you.

Hawks tucks himself back in his trousers and pulls up your top. “Let’s get outta here, then. Hey! I got it, don’t worry,” he says, pulling the passenger door open.

“Where’s my underwear?”

“Dunno.”

“I’m gonna leave a wet spot.”

“I don’t mind,” he says nonchalantly before hopping into the driver’s seat next to you. The ignition rolls over and Hawks backs out of the parking space. His hand rests on the inside of your thigh, rubbing in slow circles.

You notice his nails are black, and curved a bit like talons.

Pretty.

“Okay hummingbird, lead the way,” he says, giving you a soft smile.

#hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x you #takami keigo x reader #bnha #bnha fanfiction #mha #lemon #smut #my hero academia #fanfic

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jubilantwriter · 3 years

Text

Jaspvid Week 2021: Day 2 - Baking

(AO3)

@jaspvid-week

Togetherness is Soft and Warm

Summary: Based off of Ellohcee's Kiki's Delivery Service AU.

David forgets that working for Clementine means more than just making deliveries. An impromptu lesson is all it takes to remind David of how rewarding it is to create something to share with another. Bread isn't always meant to be eaten alone, after all.

Word Count: 3121

////

It's a rather slow day in the bakery today. David blows his bangs out of his face as he slouches behind the cashier, watching as the townspeople go about their merry way. It's a nice and sunny day out, and he's only a little bit jealous that he's in here working while everyone else is enjoying the sunshine. Ah, well, he needs a little bit more money anyways - there was a nice looking cat dish that he wanted to get for Max since the little black cat keeps complaining about the dish he has now. A bored sigh escapes him as yet more people walk by the bakery. Not a single customer so far, and he's been sitting here for what feels like ages.

"Davey?" A sweet voice calls for him from the kitchen.

"Yeah?"

"Can you come here for a mite?"

"Okay!" He hops off the stool happily and walks into the kitchen, the heat from the ovens blowing up against his face as he blinks in surprise. "...Oh!"

"Oh, sorry, hun." Clementine dusts off her hands with a laugh and gestures towards him to come closer. "I take it's pretty borin' out there, huh?"

He fidgets with his black shirt and shrugs. "I mean, it's not too bad. Sometimes someone will wave at me when they pass by!"

"Hmm, do they now?"

"Yeah! And, um, they all seem to be enjoying the sun too, and they all look so relaxed..."

Clementine chuckles as she bends down to David's level. "Do ya wanna take a break from work for a bit?"

"N-no!" With an embarrassed blush, he waves his hands frantically in front of him. "I don't mind working! Who knows, maybe someone will need a delivery soon!"

"That's very true!" Clementine nods along, her bun bouncing as she straightens up. "But... hm..." She taps her chin, looking off into the distance. Curious, David follows her line of sight and sees her staring at nothing in particular.

"Is something wrong, Ms. Clementine?"

"Just a bit." She cradles her head in her hand as she sighs dramatically. "Ya see, the bread's been sellin' like hotcakes since you joined with your lil delivery service, but I haven't been able to keep up with the demand!"

"Is that so?" He gasps and covers his mouth. "Oh no, I'm so sorry!"

"Now now, that's not a bad thing!" She takes his hands and lowers them from his mouth. "It's a good thing, really! It just means I gotta work a little extra harder to keep everyone happy." With a wink, she lets go of his hands to reach for a spare apron. "And since it's mighty slow out there, I was wonderin' if you'd like to help me in here instead?"

"You mean... to bake bread?" He looks over at the roaring ovens, and then to racks of cooling baked goods that lined the walls. "But... it looks like you've already got enough to sell."

"Don't be silly!" She walks over to the flour covered counter and pats it. "What I've learned in all my years of bein' a baker is that there is always someone who needs a little treat, be it a roll or a muffin or even a warm, fresh loaf." She smiles and gestures him over, helping him put the apron on with ease. The old thing covers up most of his dark clothes, and she adjusts the bandanna around his neck so that it too can be partially covered with the apron. "Plus, it'll be loads of fun to bake with someone else for a change! I know I do most of my bakin' in the morning, but it won't hurt to do some smaller batches during a slow time, don'tcha think?"

"Mmmm..." He rocks back and forth on his heels, looking out to where the front of the bakery is still quiet and empty, and to the kitchen where Clementine is grinning with a bright smile. With a nod, he smiles back bashfully. "Okay, I wanna help!"

Baking bread always did seem like a lot of fun! Whenever he crept down a little too early, he'd always see Clementine hard at work, the dough she prepared the previous night already being shaped and kneaded and worked to perfection, and the smells...

Goodness! And now he gets to help in making such treats!

"Wonderful!" She claps her hands together and giggles, a small puff of flour erupting from her hands as she does so. David laughs along and stands eagerly by her side as she pulls out a dusty bowl. "Now, we'll be startin' from scratch here, so would ya kindly get me-"

The door to the store opens as the bell jingles. Max walks in from the front, his feline face scowling as he yowls at David. "Hey! You've got a visitor!"

"Hold on," he keeps the apron on as he stops Clementine from going to the front herself, "I've got this! It'll just be a sec."

"Alrighty, hun."

He grins as he races to the front, intent on helping their customer as quickly as possible. "Hi, how can I-!"

"Davey!" Jasper rests his arms on the cashier's counter, grinning brightly as he does so. "There you are!"

"Jasp!" He runs over and hugs the other boy, the two of them laughing brightly as they part. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I was feeling kinda hungry, and I thought, hey! The bakery's got some sweet bites, and I'll get to see Davey!"

"Oh! If that's the case, is there anything you want?"

"Hmm..." Jasper looks around the bakery, hovering by the shelfs and displays as he sizes up all the treats. With a grin, he turns back to David and shrugs. "Dunno! What do you suggest?"

"Um, lemme see..." He walks over to Jasper's side and looks at all the baked goods on sale. There's muffins, rolls, biscuits, sweet breads, and so on... but perhaps, because he's been living with Clementine for a good few months, despite the good quality of all the food, he can't help but think that they've been sitting out too long and gotten a bit... cold.

When he thinks of a pleasant treat, he imagines it fresh from the cooling rack, warmth still radiating off of it, but having rested long enough that when he bites into it, all of the flavors that Clementine had carefully worked into the dough comes out perfectly. He taps his chin and looks around the bakery some more. His gaze lingers to the back of the bakery, where Clementine still waits for him.

Maybe... if he asks nicely...

He grabs Jasper's hand, shocking the other boy as he tugs him towards the kitchen.

"W-woah! Davey, hang on-"

"Ms. Clementine!" His call startles the woman, her reverie broken from where she was busy petting Max as he drank some milk. "Is it okay if Jasper joins too?"

"Hm?" Her gaze lands on the brunet standing next to David, the boy suddenly bashful and nervous as his hand is held tightly in David's. "...Oh! Of course, I don't mind at all. You know what they say - the more the merrier!" Before Jasper can protest, she looks around and finds one more spare apron. She quickly puts it on Jasper, the poor boy being dragged about too quickly for him to keep up with the energy of both redheads. "There we are!"

"What- what are we doing?" Jasper finally manages to get a word, looking at David bewildered as the other boy grins and tugs him towards the counter.

"We're making bread! Or something! Actually, I'm not too sure." He looks over to Clementine as she begins setting the ingredients on the table. "What are we making?"

"Well, it can be anything you'd both like." She hums thoughtfully to herself as considers the options. "We can make something small, like biscuits and cookies. Or we can make something filling, like pies if I've got the ingredients for it. Or we can just do something simple! Like a bread of sorts."

"Hmmm..." David taps his chin and looks to Jasper. "What do you think?"

"Mmm, how about something sweet?" Jasper meets David's gaze and grins. "I think sweet breads are pretty stellar!"

"I'm okay with that!"

"Sweet bread it is then."

Clementine is incredibly patient with them as they bumble their way through her instructions. Flour is spilt here and there, but she merely laughs it off and helps them make the right measurements. David is intent on following her instructions through and through, though Jasper tries to have his own little ideas once in a while.

"Jasp!" David bats away a giggling Jasper as he holds an orange up in his hands. "We don't need that!"

"Hmm... actually." Clementine holds her hand out and Jasper places it into her hand. "I think we can do something with this."

"Like what?" Jasper's mischief changes to genuine curiosity as she takes a tiny looking grater out.

"Well, oranges are sweet, aren't they? And the rinds of these fruits make for a lovely smell." She rubs the rind against the grater, producing a zest as Jasper and David ooh and ahh next to her. "Why don't you keep this up for me, Jasper?"

"Yes ma'am!" He dutifully takes the orange from her and mimics her actions, his tongue sticking out a bit in concentration. David can't help the giggle that escapes him as he watches Jasper work. The brunet looks over at his giggle and makes a confused grin. "What's so funny?"

"You were making a funny face, like this!" He mimics Jasper's earlier look, earning a laugh from the other boy as he then makes a more exaggerated face. This draws a stronger laugh from David as they continue to make faces at each other.

"Now now, no horsin' around! We still have bread to make," Clementine chastises, but her tone is anything but harsh as she smiles fondly. "We still got plenty to do!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

The rest of the time is filled with aimless chatter as the two boys follow her instructions, mixing the fresh orange juice and zest into the dough. Jasper at one point managed to smear some flour on David's cheek, resulting in David smearing some flour on his face in retaliation. Before they can start chasing each other around the counter, Clementine has them watch her knead the dough before letting the boys each take their turn. Jasper is all gusto as he pushes and pulls the dough energetically before getting tired. David takes over, and he tries to be more precise than Jasper, making sure the dough isn't too sticky before looking over to Clementine for her nod of approval. When she dubs it done, she takes the dough and places it to the side and covers it.

"And now we wait for it to rise."

"Won't it take long?" David looks out the window and frowns, the sun setting in the distance as worry sets in. "Jasper, will you be able to stay long?"

"Mmm... well, I think I can push it until a little after eight." He folds his arms behind his head and smiles wide. "I should have some time until then!"

"That we do. Why don't we bake some other things like cookies?"

"Yeah!"

Baking, as it turns out, is much more exciting than he anticipated. There's something amazing with being able to make something from scratch with his own hands. Sure, he's made eggs and pancakes before, but he's never truly baked. And having Jasper next to him adds to the fun as the boy turns to do silly things that make David laugh. For instance, trying to juggle a few eggs before one of them lands on his head. Or even mixing the batter a little too fast and getting bits of it all over his face and apron.

Whatever Jasper does never fails to bring a smile and a laugh to David's face. Nighttime comes far too quickly, and by the time Clementine pulls out their final batch of muffins and cookies, Jasper makes a startled jump as he checks the time on his watch.

"Shnikes! It's super late!" He rushes to pull the apron off in a panic. "Aw man, my mom's gonna kill me-"

"Hold on, let me help!" David unties the knot from behind and takes the apron from Jasper. "There we go!"

"Now just a min," Clementine says as she walks to the front of the bakery, grabbing a paper bag and dropping a few of their recently baked goods into it. She hands it to Jasper with a smile. "For you and your ma."

"Oh, thanks," he says, fumbling to reach into his pocket to pay.

"No need, hun!" She begins pushing Jasper towards the door as he stammers and tries to argue.

"But I gotta pay-!"

"Sweetheart, you helped make the treats, you don't gotta pay a cent for them!" With a chuckle, she gently pushes him out the door and winks to David. "Now why don't y'all say goodbye real quick while I go clean up and close the shop?" She waves to them as she retreats back to the kitchen, leaving David and Jasper by themselves. Jasper grins easily, holding the bag with one arm as he turns to face David.

"Honestly, I didn't think I'd be baking today when I came to get a snack," he says lightly, making David laugh awkwardly as he rubs his arm, "but I had a lot of fun! It's... kinda nice to learn something else for once."

"Yeah, and it was nice to hang out with you here in the bakery. I know I haven't been around much since I've got to do my deliveries and stuff but... I promise to hang out with you more!"

"Nah, don't sweat it." Jasper winks easily as David looks away with a blush. "If anything, I'll just come find ya myself!"

"Like today!" They both share a laugh before Jasper shuffles his feet awkwardly.

"Well," he says with a soft smile, "guess I'll be catching you on the flipside later?"

"Of course! I miss flying with you, especially since the weather is so nice right now..." He sighs, disappointment settling in as he realizes that he'd been spending more time working and training than he did taking time for himself. A small voice reminds him to be careful, before he burns himself out again. Before he can dwell anymore on his thoughts, a hand lands on his shoulder as Jasper's crooked grin greets him.

"We can do it whenever you're free. I'm always willin' to wait for ya, no matter how long it takes. You know me, I won't get upset."

"...Of course not." A smile finds its way back to David's face. Jasper always did have that special talent of cheering David up.

It's probably why...

"Oh- shoot, I really should go now." Jasper backs away quickly when he realizes the time yet again, awkwardly running backwards as he waves to David. "We'll fly again soon! See ya later, Davey!"

"Bye, Jasp!" He waves to his retreating figure until he can't see him no longer. As he walks back into the bakery to lock up, he finds that the entire place feels... more empty than it usually is. Max coils around his feet, looking up at David with an unimpressed look.

"Stop moping," the cat says, stretching himself out as he leads David back to their room, "it's not like he's gonna be gone forever."

"Still..." He sighs softly and looks around the kitchen, Clementine already gone now that their mess has disappeared. "I kinda miss him already."

"Oh YUCK, that's DISGUSTING." Max makes a hacking sound, making David chuckle at his dramatic antics.

"What? It's not wrong to miss friends after they leave!"

"Sure. Friends." Max quickly walks away, looking over his shoulder to glare at David. "Now hurry up! I wanna fucking sleep."

"Max!" He follows after the cat, a little thought tugging at this thoughts. "We talked about this- OH NO, THE BREAD!"

-----

Clementine wraps up the loaf in paper and slips it into the bag. It's a start of another day, and he's actually got a few deliveries to make. She smiles as she hands him a slip with a name and address.

Jasper McFadden.

She winks and pats his shoulder. "It's still gonna be warm if you manage to fly as quickly as you normally do."

He blushes and hugs the delivery close to his chest. "Right. Um, see you later, Ms. Clementine!"

"Fly safely now!"

He runs out of the store and quickly settles himself on his broom, concentrating with an ease that comes second nature to him. The lift off is seamless, and he launches himself high into the air, already soaring towards his destination.

As he circles around the familiar neighborhood, a voice calls out to him from high walls as the brunet signals him down. "Davey!"

"Hey! I've got a delivery for you!"

"What's it? I don't remember ordering anything." Jasper takes the offered bag from David and pulls out a nicely braided loaf. The soft sheen and sweet smell of oranges immediately has Jasper widening his eyes. "Oh! This is the bread we made yesterday!"

"Yeah, Ms. Clementine wanted me to deliver your fair share." He stays on his broom as he hovers by Jasper. "It should still be warm so you should try a slice!"

"Hmm, actually," Jasper looks up at David with a mischievous smile, "do ya have any other deliveries to do?"

"Um, no I don't think so."

"Sweet!" He holds up the bread to David's eye level and gestures him down. "Wanna try some with me?"

His heart soars at the suggestion, and he lands all too quickly as he stumbles into Jasper. The other boy catches him easily and laughs as David straightens himself out.

"I take it that you wanna eat some?"

"Yes!" He grins brightly, already looking forward to spending more time with Jasper. The scent of the warm bread wafts between them as Jasper leads him towards his house. As they tear into it with jams and butter, the softness of the bread shows of their combined hard work, and Jasper makes a show of pointing out each little bit of zest that he made to his mother and David. The bread is fluffy as he pulls the braid apart to eat it. Perhaps its his bias to freshly baked goods, or maybe just simply the fact that he made it himself with Jasper and Clementine - whatever the reason may be, David just can't help but think that this bread is the sweetest he's ever tasted.

#camp camp #cc david #cc jasper #cc cute waitress #cc max #jaspvidweek2021 #this is uhhh pure fluff #which is something i struggle with #but lmao it's fluFF LIKE FLUFFY BREAD #AMIRIGHT FOLKS-#ANYWAY YEAH ITS BASED OFF OF ELLO'S GOOD GOOD KIKI'S DELIVERY SERVICE AU #ive been meaning to write for this au for so long #finally #AN EXCUSE #jaspvid #IM SO GOOD AT FORGETTING A TAG OR TWO NOWADAYS

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modernghostfare · 2 years

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hiii ive seen like a couple fics of frank being emo at a wedding and ive enjoyed them i wanted to write one of my own :)c ao3 link here its 1.9k words frank/bowman is the focus btw

Mason holds his hand to the small of her back. They spin languidly at the center of the room, her long skirt gliding just off the ground. Her short, chunky heels keep her balance on the log cabin’s rugged floors. They’ve rented a space just perfect for them so far up north, nestled in the mountains, enough room for only the important people. At the reception is a few of her family, the smallest selection of Mason’s family, and everyone Frank knows.

It’s cold as Hell in Alaska, a horrible feeling to Frank, but far better than the pit in his stomach that he can’t seem to fill. He’s had cake, his steak and potatoes, a glass of swanky champagne, and a nice, cold beer. He’s nursing his third can as he excuses himself from the table he shares with Hudson and Jenny.

The lace of the tablecloth slides over his thighs and under his fingertips. Mason twirls his wife in the center of the room as Frank leaves, the lace of her dress glancing on his fingers. A soft touch. The lightest hold, Mason proving shy in the middle of their assorted group. Frank closes the door behind him quietly so as not to disturb, pulls his thick wool-lined denim jacket tighter around himself. The sun sets so early in Alaska, even in these Summer months, currently just peeking from behind the mountains. Only makes it colder.

He sits gingerly on the chairs on the porch, thankful there’s no snow falling yet. Summer was a good choice, Frank muses. Not that they had much of a choice. Her belly is blink-and-you’ll-miss-it, just barely showing the swell of their child. Frank always figured “pregnancy glow” was bullshit, and maybe it’s just because she’s happy to be married, but he can see it now. She’s stunning, showing Mason off like a prize today.

He is a prize to be fair, a real pain in the ass to get settled down. They’d met, dated, got pregnant, and Mason went AWOL. She’s nothing if not persistent, chasing him down to make him listen to her, to get over himself, his nerves and self doubt. Frank likes her. He’s glad Mason likes her, too. He won’t say, and no one will ask to confirm, but he has cried today. The entire ceremony his eyes were wet.

He sips his beer.

The door opens and Frank hears a frustrated mumble of “there you are” from Mason still in just his suit. He sits on the chair next to Frank, looks at him with a confused grimace, “what are you doin’ out here?”

“Sitting.”

“Can’t sit inside, man?”

“I was.”

“Not too hot in there, is it?”

Frank gives him a short chuckle. Then he shrugs. “It’s a little stuffy.”

Mason laughs at that, instantly loud and light. He’s been like this all day, smiling bright and talking easy. “Feels great out here.”

Frank shakes his head, mumbles just loud enough, “you are too excited. Never seen you this hyper.”

Mason chuckles, “c’mon.”

“I’m serious.”

“Honestly?”

“What?”

“I’m surprised it’s me doing this and not you. First, I mean.”

“What, bein’ happy?”

“Getting married.”

“Oh,” Frank huffs out a short laugh. He looks away from Mason, scans the horizon. “I dunno, man.”

“You’re just more, uh… Personable than me.”

“I don’t think so; I think I’m an asshole, Mason.”

“Yeah, but you’re funny.”

“You aren’t?” “No.”

“Aren’t I lucky.”

“I’m being serious,” Mason nods his head as he leans closer to Frank. “Better guy than I am.”

“Stop.”

“Fuckin’ mean it.”

“Neh. You got bad taste, man, you think Hudson is cool.”

“He can be.”

“Bullshit.”

“He can.”

“Uhnhuh,” Frank snorts. They stay quiet for a moment, Mason knowing when to back off.

Frank slowly reaches for his pocket, holds his hand over the box inside, nestled safely in his slacks. He grabs it, turns to Mason without looking him in the eye. Out of his control, he hesitates on speaking. Mason watches him from the corner of his eye, silent as Frank fondles the plastic wrap over the box. The pit in his stomach roils and coils as he holds it, soft plastic crinkling. “You, uh,” he starts nervously. “You know who had good taste?”

“Who?”

“Bowman.”

Mason stays quiet while Frank takes out the pack. Cigarettes, brand Garcia. Frank doesn't talk about Bowman anymore, does his best not to mention his name. Mason nods slowly, leans back in his chair carefully, just watching as Frank peels the plastic wrap from the cigarettes. He shakes them against the palm of his hand. “You remember these, Mason?”

“Not that brand, no.”

“S’from Cuba. When we went down for fuckin’ Castro, Bowman, uh, got a pack of these. Had me carry ‘em, in my shirt sleeve, and then in my pack,” Frank feels over his shoulder, an involuntary action as he remembers. Old gear, same general placement as always. “I had sort of… Rolled over them when I was clearing a wall. Or maybe on the ground, I don’t know. I don’t remember exactly but after you,” Frank inhales and sits back. He finally opens the pack. He grabs one out, points it at Mason. “After you, we all needed a smoke. But I had fuckin’ crushed ‘em.”

Mason snorts, a soft, unsure sound. He watches as Frank flips the cigarette upside down, then places it back. His lucky cigarette, his last to smoke. Frank pulls another two out for the both of them, passing Mason his and his lighter. He lights it, hands his lighter back to Frank as he inhales slowly. He savors the flavor, smoke passing through him, as Frank lights his own.

“Just had to rectify that,” Frank motions a nod with the cigarette in his hand. “Had to get Bowman his smokes. Thought of that for fuckin’ years.”

“Well,” Mason starts. “There you go.”

“There I go.”

They sit in a miniscule moment of silence before Mason picks the conversation back up, eyebrow raised as he side eyes Frank, "was he mad about the cigarettes or?"

Frank stays quiet. He focuses solely on the cigarette in his hand as he smokes it for one, two drags. "Nah."

"Oh, okay. That's just how you made it sound."

Frank shakes his head, "nah, he wasn't mad, he was just like…" Frank rubs the back of his neck, the short hair there like bristles against his calloused skin. "I don't know, disappointed, I guess. He'd asked for a smoke and I just looked at him once I found 'em and he was just looking at me. Blank. It's like it's one of those things, y'know, final straw. A shit fuckin' day."

Mason nods. Frank continues, "it-it just bothered me. That I made his day worse. I feel like he already had a lot of stress."

"Did he?"

"Yeah."

"Hm…" Mason thinks back to years ago now. "His fiancée was pregnant wasn't she?"

"...mhm. Not then, but yeah." Frank remembers. Frank's never forgotten, won't speak about him but thinks of him daily. He can see back clearly, to the exact moment Bowman had told him. He was half excited, half apologetic as he reread the announcement letter back to Frank in their little corner of home base.

It was well shaded, at a bit of a distance from everyone else, with two shitty plastic chairs, complete with a table for cards. Others could come to play, and many did, but truthfully it was a little space for the two of them. They'd put the chairs right behind a brush with large fronds, so when Frank reached out to take Bowman's hand into his, no one else could see. At night, it'd be so dark in the shade, the two of them could huddle closer in secret, listening to the gentle sounds of bugs and rain. Horrible fucking rain otherwise, but at the edge of their base, safe under the canopy, rain was just a sound to cover them.

Bowman had been stressed, constantly, having Frank help him write his replies back to his fiancée's letters. He was always eager to get back to her, to get a real moment of peace. He juggled Angela and Frank, always being sure to prove it wasn't one or the other. (Even though it was). But he was sweet to Frank, bringing him little gifts of things he traded his way to, skipping out on the candies in his MREs to get Frank extra cigarettes or a candy he liked instead. Little things. Little moments.

When they'd kiss, sometimes Frank would pull away to see Bowman's eyes already open, scanning the background. He was getting tired. Frank knew it. Every day Frank carried the weight of Bowman’s concerns. It didn't help when that Russian crushed his skull in, eyes bulging and scalp bleeding. He’s kept tabs on Angela ever since. He’s never spoken with her.

Frank fiddles with his hands. He traces his index finger with his thumb, tries his best to calm his nerves. In his entire life, he's cried twice in front of Mason, one of those times today, and he'd rather not have a third.

"She's got a beautiful dress," he settles on saying.

"Yeah. Cheap, too. Thankfully."

"She's thrifty."

"She is."

"Did she need any alterations? For the bump?"

"Yeah, kinda. Not as cheap.” Frank snorts and Mason lets out the chuckle he was holding in. He flicks ashes off the end of his cigarette, “not too bad.”

Frank grunts instead of giving a full response. Stunted still, giving control of the conversation to Mason for once. Mason flounders with it, clears his throat and stays quiet. His confidence and excitement is dying out, replaced instead by sharing Woods' nerves. "You wanna go back in yet?"

"Not done yet."

"Okay."

Frank's quiet as he looks over the horizon again. Looks like a scene from a puzzle, or a calendar, crisp pink and purple sunset over a blanket of dark greens. It'd be too cold for Bowman.

"You can go in if you want, Mason. Go dance with your girl."

"Nah, I'll be waiting for you to come back in."

Fucker. Frank's eyes prickle wet again, he sniffs hard before giving a little stomp with his foot. He tries his best to redirect the emotion, force it out of his body any other way than crying again. "It's fine, man."

"Exactly, it's fine. I can handle this cold better than you."

"Fuck you."

"I can!" Frank laughs and scratches hard at his beard as Mason continues, "I actually grew up in this. This is a very fuckin' warm summer to me."

"Shut up."

"It is."

"There's nothin' warm about this."

"I'm burning up right now."

"You are not!"

"Fuckin' dyin' over here."

"Go inside then, numbnuts."

"You gonna come with me?"

"Fuckin'-- Yeah, whatever. Gotta sit next to fuckin' Hudson."

"Boohoo."

Frank shoves at Mason's shoulder as he stands, putting his cigarette out on the wood of the porch chairs. He flicks it over the edge as Frank sucks down the rest of his. He savors it before standing up, coughing like a bitch as he does. "Shit," he forces out.

Mason pats his back hard, harder than necessary, "see, you get inside. Get a drink."

"Whatever."

"C'mon." Mason stands back, ushering Frank by him. “Ladies first.”

“Ass,” Frank grumbles out as Mason chuckles. He pushes the door wide open for Frank, pats him hard on the back as he walks back into the warmth of the party. Mason’s quick to take his place beside his new wife again; Frank goes diligently next to Hudson.

They nod to each other. Nothing much changes.

#call of duty #frank woods #alex mason #call of duty black ops #mine #fanfic

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yee-fxcking-haw · 3 years

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What Happens Next?

A/N: Y'ALL I FUCKIN DID IT I FINISHED THE DAMN FIC. So I definitely bit off more than I could chew by making my first fic a multipart with so much fucking emotion and such a busy plot but lol we did it! Thank you to everyone who has read the story and asked to be tagged and sent me kind words I love y'all so damn much.

Warnings/Rating: 18+ explicit content, very soft romantic smut, unprotected sex, almost a blowjob, James finishes inside the reader. A lot of fluffy love making petty much a great time.

Summary: In the sixth and final chapter of this series, James and you finally figure your shit out. You have to stop running from each other, what you have is far too brilliant...

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Part Five

Playlist

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Part Six

Annie's Diner

"I'm a nurse! I'm a nurse, let me see him!" A soft voice calls out over your shoulder. James' head turns towards the voice, his eyes fluttering back open.

"James?" You ask urgently.

"Relax doll, I was just restin' my eyes for a second. Fightin' off assholes is hard work."

He slowly raises to brace himself on his elbows, wincing a little while he does.

The nurse comes around and drops to her knees on the other side of him. She's a pretty little thing with honey colored hair and bright brown eyes.

"Just give us one second dear, I'm certain he's alright I just need to check for a concussion."

You don't answer, you just nod and get up to turn to the small crowd that's begun to disperse, seemingly disappointed with the lack of action.

This is an opportunity for you to finally take a deep breath and process everything that's happene. Air fills your lungs, shoulders rising and tensing for a moment. You release and let your posture fall back down, letting yourself portray outwardly how drained you feel inside. You've gone from hating James and being terrified of him, to being saved by him, to understanding him to… what now? If everything he's said is true, then everything that happened between you two is just as meaningful as it was before prom. Although, misunderstanding or not, it still hurt like hell. You should be more cautious, right? You shouldn't just run back into his arms like everything's fine, even though it is.

You turn to look back at him, long legs sprawled on the pavement while the alleged nurse checks his pulse and his pupils. He's joking about something, you can tell by the way his eyebrows are sitting higher and the lopsided smile on his face. He's propped up on his elbows, strong arms straining against his shirt. The image sends you back to the afternoon that changed it all, you remember his solid body collapsing onto your lap in a dramatic display of feigned illness. Your lips twitch into a small smile at the thought. You shake your head and walk back towards them.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you look worried about me doll." He jests, the nurse turns to glance at you and smiles fondly.

"Your fella is just fine dear, try and keep him on a shorter leash next time." She chuckles as she stands and dusts off her pretty green skirt, James follows, wincing as he stands.

You feel your cheeks heat up at the implication that James is yours, while he wears a very satisfied smirk at the idea. You swallow thickly and give her a silent nod. James thanks her sweetly for checking him, she says something back to him but you've completely zoned out. Her comment has senr you into a state of utter confusion. Is he your fella? No, you never established that. He did call you his girl though, so that would make him your fella. On top of that, what happened on the roof after Coney Island doesn't just happen between friends, not even friends with benefits. The way he held you so tightly, the way he littered kisses down your spine. Those aren't things you share with someone that doesn't belong to you.

The nurse politely ducks away to go back into the diner with the rest of the onlookers. Leaving you and James to stand alone in the dimly lit parking lot. His jaw looks much worse for wear, the skin is so angry and red. He'll definitely have a bruise, an ugly one at that. James lets out a long sigh, staring down at you with those big blue eyes. Despite it all, the idiot is still smiling. You scowl up at him, you cross your arms and lean to one side, refusing to let him crack you.

"You mad at me?" He asks timidly, he gives you an exaggerated pout while he lifts a hand to tuck some hair behind your ear.

You don't say a word. Of course you're mad at him. He scared you half to death, all for what? Just so he could feel like the tough guy? To prove a point to you? To prove a point to himself? He must have known the fight would end with him beat or worse and he has gall to ask if you're mad?

"Hey." He breathes, his hand comes to rest under your chin so he can tilt your face up with his knuckles. The gesture makes your heart flutter wildly.

"I get it, that was stupid, could've gotten hurt much worse and all that." He says, his eyes are gentle and attentive.

You huff and blink up at him, waiting for the rest of his explanation.

"He just- he came in there talkin' all that shit about you bein' his. It pissed me off is all, you're not his. You're not really anybody's- I mean, I'd like to make you mine- but not in the way he meant. I don't want to own you, I wanna love you, doll. I wanna keep you safe and make you laugh and get my ass beat in skee ball and do all that other cheesy crap. I know I fucked up so badly, but baby please-"

He doesn't get a chance to finish his little rant, the second he calls you baby your hands fly to the sides of his face. As it always does with him, your body moves separate from your mind. You smash your lips into his and you feel his hands settle on your waist, clutching you like you're going to float away at any second. That same baffling electricity thrums through your body as your lips move against each other. The rhythm of the kiss is like an echo of the one you shared on the roof. It has the same tide like push and pull, each of you giving and taking from each other in perfect unison. His lips are soft and urgent against yours, his grip solid and grounding. His hands slide towards each other behind you so his arms can find their home around your waist. The feeling makes you sigh against his lips. After months of being without this feeling, after only having it once, all you've done is want it back and now you have it again.

The kiss only breaks so you can both breathe, foreheads still pressed together, wanting to stay as connected as possible. He smiles down at you, it's a beautiful dopey grin. The look he's giving you makes a shiver run up your spine.

"You wanna go skinny dipping?" You ask, absolutely shocked at your own words.

What the hell? Did Molly fucking possess you? He scoffs and ducks down so his eyes are level with yours.

"Do I wanna what?!" He starts cracking up, and you can't help but join him, the absurdity of it all getting to you.

You can't help but think why the hell not. After all of this, all the confusion and the hurt, you two deserve a night like you shared months ago. Maybe you're an idiot, maybe you're only acting based on an emotional response to what James has done for you tonight. But fucking hell, why not just put it all behind you and live a little? James wants to be yours, he wants you to be his. You need to just let it be and stop fighting the way you both keep hurtling towards each other. So yeah, you want to go skinny dipping. It's the most impulsive, idiotic thing you can think of, and you've always wanted to try it.

"I think you know my answer." He chuckles.

"Let go then." You say quickly, turning on your heels so you can head to the truck before you change your mind.

"Woah kid wait up." He calls out to you while he laughs as he follows.

You reach the truck and swing the door open so you can hop in, he scrambles in as you frantically shove the keys in and crank it into gear.

"Hey." His soft voice snaps you out of your manic state. Your eyes dark to his and you feel your breathing slow down some.

"How 'bout we save the skinny dipping for another time?" He asks, voice soft and steady.

You just nod, becoming aware of how hard you were trying to be light-hearted and fun to mask how overwhelmed you're feeling.

"We don't have to move so fast, doll. We did last time and it didn't go so well, I don't wanna mess up this time." He says, his silvery eyes don't leave yours for a second.

Your head moves up and down silently again, you pull some air into your lungs slowly. He's right. You're trying too hard to make everything ok again. You just want to feel like you did on the roof, you want to be free of all the shit that's happened. James has a point though, you've both learned what happens when things move too quick for you both to keep track of it all. You have to be careful with it this time. Careful and boring are often mistakingly paired together, but not with James. It's undeniable that what you have with him is irreplaceable, which makes it all the more critical that you both handle this like it's made of glass.

"So, what do you want to do?" Your voice is so small, almost unrecognizable.

"I want to dance with you." He states, making your heart soar.

"Like, back at the dance hall?" You ask, the stress evident in your voice.

"God no, we can go to my house." He says it like it's obvious.

"Won't your family mind?" The idea of meeting them now makes you extremely anxious. It would be rather awkward to show up to meet his mother for the first time while he's wearing a shiner you half gave him.

"My Ma and my sister are at my aunt's house." He explains, his voice is laced with a tentative tone.

"Oh…" You exhale gently, understanding the situation.

"Only if you want to, I promise I'll behave." His tone shifts to something slightly taunting.

You can't help but smile, he's always quite the charmer.

"What fun would that be?" You chuckle, "Take me home, Bucky."

The nickname makes him smile in the most dazzling way, it stays glued to his face almost the whole way to his house.

James' House

You pull up to the front of an adorable little white house. It's very sweet looking, very simple and quaint. As the engine dies you glance over at James, he's looking at the house with a very solemn, spaced out gaze. Instinctively, you reach out and grab his hand, sliding your fingers between his own.

"I know…" You say as gently as you can. It's his dad, you know because you wear that look far too often. James just nods slowly, closing his eyes for a moment. You don't dare speak again, you just hold his hand. You don't need to say anything, you don't ever want people to say anything when you have the same feeling. All you can do is sit and understand him. Your chest fills with a horrible ache at the sight, but you're also filled with a strange relief. You aren't alone, and he isn't either. You have each other, you know each other, you get to love each other.

He lets the air fall out of his chest, face softening as he does.

"Thank you, doll." His eyes meet yours and he offers you a weak smile.

"Let's go inside." He says. He walks around to help you out of the truck, offering his hand like a gentleman. You want to slap it away out of instinct, but tonight is different.

He helps you down then wraps his hand around yours as he leads you up the sidewalk.

Before he opens the door he presses a kiss on the side of your head. It's quick and soft, and very different from the way he's kissed you before. Every other time it's felt like he prepared for it, and you had time to brace for it. This time it feels like he's used to doing it, like it's a natural thing.

The house is exactly what you would anticipate the home of a widow to look like. Decorated with lace doilies, soft blankets draped on the couch, and delicate lamps that cast a fuzzy yellow haze over the room. The living room is right off of the front door, and the kitchen is just an extension of it. A cute little staircase is on the left wall leading up to what you can only imagine is an equally quaint upstairs.

James walks confidently into his home, straight for the record player. As he fiddles with it you wander over to the fireplace. The mantle is littered in beautiful family photos, just like at your house. His father is in many of them, kissing his mom, holding a young James on his shoulder, cradling a baby you assume must be James' sister. He was handsome like James, but their faces aren't identical, you can see where his face is a balance of the two individuals. Your chest burns with remorse, knowing that these pictures serve as the only thing they have left of the man they all loved so well.

You startle just a little when James wraps his arms around your waist from behind, but relax when he presses a kiss into the side of your neck.

"It's alright, doll." He mumbles. You don't know if he says it for you or for him, but it doesn't matter. You let yourself sink further into the comfort of being known so well by James.

The music pops into existence, a gentle rhythm fills the room. The song is made of soft trumpets and strings, it's a beautiful, romantic melody. Something you would expect old lovers to sway to in their living room. You and James have the lovers part down, you just need to grow old and have your own living room. Is that even in the cards for you two? You sure as hell hope it is. You remember your realization on the roof that night, thinking about how if love isn't like what you two have, you don't want to love at all.

The feeling suffocates you as he spins you around in his arms. His eyes see right through you as his hands find their home on your waist while your arms slide around his neck.

"I love you doll, I never stopped." He breathes with an urgent look in his eyes.

He starts to sway with you around the living room as you gaze up at him completely dumbfounded. Of course he loves you, and you love him. Yes, you have so much left to learn about each other, but my God has James stolen your heart. Ever since you two left that classroom, you've been consuming each other's thoughts. You've been willing yourselves to try and understand the electricity that sparks between you. It's been so fucking messy, but now that you're in his arms again, dancing like an old married couple, you finally understand it all.

"I love you too…" You say it so softly it's almost not heard, but James catches it.

That dazzling smile spreads across his face, it's contagious nature making your own lips split into a grin.

"Would my outstanding skills in the bedroom have anything to do with that?" He says with a sickly sweet voice.

"James!" You laugh and slap his arm. He throws his head back to let out a playful laugh, the sound sets off a swarm of butterflies in your stomach.

"I wouldn't know what your skills are like in the bedroom anyway, I only know what they're like on a roof." You joke.

"We could change that." He says, his voice taking on a much lower tone.

You both freeze and stare into each other's eyes. The air around you feels so thick and the room starts to blur a little, everything except James.

Then you're on each other. Your lips crash together and your hands snag whatever they can. You let out a whiney noise from the back of your throat, which only spurs James on more. His hand grabs at your waist and he licks at your bottom lip. His actions inspire a wonderful heat to settle in your stomach, the feeling gives you confidence you've never felt before. You slide your hands up his chest to grasp his collar, silently begging him to come closer. The two of you break for air for only a second, eyes glued to each other as you pant and try to comprehend the fire growing between you.

"What are you waiting for, Bucky?" You tease.

A wild look spreads in his eyes and a wide grin overtakes his handsome face. Before you can make another witty comment, James brings his strong hands to the backs of your thighs and hoists you up so you can wrap your legs around him. You let out a shocked giggle but gladly welcome his choice to hold you like this. Now level with his face, you throw your arms around his shoulders and place a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose. He wrinkles his face dramatically and let's out a low chuckle.

"I'm gonna drive you wild, doll." He responds with all the confidence in the world.

Of course, his words make your chest ache with desire, your thighs involuntarily squeeze him a little tighter. With the natural push and pull that you two have, his body responds to your actions without thought. He lets his hands slide up to hold your thighs dangerously close to the swell of your ass, fire spreading to your center as he does.

"That's some big talk." You mumble, blinking at him slowly.

"It sure is." His eyes wander down to your lips, not even a second passes before you're on each other again. He damn near kisses the breath out of your lungs this time, his soft, skilled lips make you head spin and all you can do is hold on tight.

"Can I take you to my room?" He asks against your lips. His voice has a gentle, begging tone to it that makes you shiver.

"Please." You sigh as you let your hands slide into the soft hair on the back of his head. He kisses you hard and walks blindly up the stairs, then he's kicking the door open to what you can only assume is his room. You feel your body falling then feel your back meet a soft mattress. Bucky settles easily between your legs and your heart races when you feel how hard he is already. His hot mouth is on your neck instantly, painting your skin with needy kisses.

"Can I take this off of you?" He mumbles while he pulls at the fabric of your dress.

You can't help but giggle at his enthusiasm.

"Gettin' right into it, huh?" You say.

He brings his hand up so he can hold your face and run his thumb across your cheek bone. His eyes are soft but determined as he studies your face.

"I don't wanna waste any more time." He says simply, the phrase is loaded with months of longing. His confession dazzles you, leaving you laying there with no idea how to breathe. All you can do is nod in understanding and revel in the feeling of his wet kisses against your neck again. He gently hikes your dress up to your waist, then quickly brings his hands back down so he can run them up your thighs. His hands settle on your hips, thumbs pressing on the bones so he can pin you down slightly as he rolls his hips against your center.

Your hands instinctively claw at his broad back as a hiss leaves your lips.

"Let me get on top." You sigh, completely shocking yourself with your boldness.

You feel him smile against your collar bone before his hands glide up to hold your waist. He flips you both over with ease, granting you your wish without argument. You catch your breath as you settle on his lap, hands splayed across his chest.

"I'm all yours, doll." His eyes fall down your body sinfully, making your chest seize up and your legs squeeze around him.

You lean down to capture his lips in yours again, sighing contentedly when he moves against you like he did when you kissed for the first time on the roof.

"I missed you." You mutter against his mouth.

"Let's make up for that, yeah?" He replies quickly as he moves to pull your dress over your head. You lift your arms and let him undress you as you sit back. Soon the dress is out of the way and his warm hands are holding your waist again, thumbs brushing up and down against your skin. You become suddenly ashamed of your lackluster underwear and you feel your cheeks heat up as you watch James' eyes skate down your figure. As if he senses you unease, he sits up and snakes his arms around your waist. He presses a delicate kiss into the swell of each of your breasts as you card your fingers through his hair.

"You're so perfect." He whispers against your skin.

"Can I take this off?" He asks, bringing his thumbs up to hook his fingers around your bra straps.

Somehow, everything about this feels even more innocent than the first time you two made love. Maybe it's the knowledge that you don't have to show off, talk dirty, or have all the hot moves in order to impress each other. You're both just enchanted by the presence of one another. Finally, you're both able to just be together. There's no fear of what people will say about you in school tomorrow, no terrifying rumor hanging over your head. Just you and James, able to lose yourselves completely in this wonderful moment you've found.

You carefully undress each other, leaving tender kisses on any newly exposed skin, whispering sweet nothings as well as declarations of devotion. You cherish every second that passes as you explore each other's bodies again. Soon you're both fully exposed to each other, your hands grasp desperately at his shoulder as soon as you feel his erect length graze your core. You think back to how his lips felt between your legs, and you immediately want to repay the favor. You slink down his body until you settle between his legs. His abs tense as you slide your palms up his muscular thighs.

You know Bucky is big, especially after last time, but being face to face with his dick makes you realize his size is genuinely intimidating. He looks beautiful like this, all flushed and hard. His tip is a pretty shade of dark pink, similar to his lips, and there's a small bead of precum leaking out of his slit. The sight makes you clench your thighs and lick your lips.

"See somethin' you like?" He teases.

"I sure do." You flirt back, wasting no time in wrapping your hand around his length to give him one slow pump. He throws his head back with as you bring your lips to his tip and give it a chaste kiss.

"Tell me if I do something wrong, please." You say, the tremble in your voice revealing just how nervous you really are.

James shoots up instantly, grabbing the wrist of the hand that's around his dick while the other comes up to cup your face. His thumb slides across your cheek bone affectionately as he stares at you with his kind blue eyes.

"Doll, if you're not ready for that, don't do it." His voice is like rich hot chocolate, spreading through your body and warming every nerve.

"But, last time you- I figure I owed you…" It makes sense in your head, but by the look he gives you it doesn't make any sense to him.

"Baby," He breathes out, leaning in to kiss your forehead, "Come here."

With gentle hands he pulls you into his lap so you can straddle him while he takes your face in his hands, gazing up at you with intensity.

"Anything I do for you, is because I want to. You don't owe me a damn thing. If you're ever not ready for something you tell me, and we can talk about it, ok?" His voice has a hint of urgency to it, like he can't stress the words enough.

You nod silently as you try to understand the man beneath you. Your brain desperately claws through your vocabulary to find the words to best describe the beautiful human being you've fallen for. All you can come up with is something terribly insufficient, but incredibly accurate. He's kind. He's a "heart if gold" kind of guy. Under the charm, the handsome face, the quick witted humor, James Barnes is the kindest person you've ever met.

Your lips are on his before he can say anything else, following that involuntary reaction you've developed whenever you're around him. He kisses you back as fiercely as you kiss him, heavy breaths falling from his mouth as you work against one another. You can't help but whimper when you feel the hot skin of his dick slide along your drenched core.

"Make love to me, James, please-" You beg against his lips.

All he can manage is a moan against your mouth as he reaches down between you to grab himself so he can get lined up at your entrance. He opens his mouth to say something, but it's stolen from him as you inch down to slide the tip in. A beautiful, lustful sigh leaves his puffy lips as you do. It's still a harsh stretch for your walls, but this time you can anticipate it and welcome it. Slowly, you descend until he's in you completely. As soon as he's bottomed out you lean your forehead on his shoulder and let out a pitiful whine.

"You ok, doll?" He asks, nudging his nose against your jaw.

"I'm good, you're just so big…" You sigh. His grip on your waist tightens and you feel him twitch inside you.

"Careful sweetheart, don't want this ego getting any bigger." He teases, earning an airy giggle from you.

You brace yourself by holding his shoulders, rolling your hips tentatively. He kisses your neck when you do so and slides his arms around your waist, so you must be doing something right. You mimic the movement with a little more confidence this time. You can't help but bring your head up and send James a nervous glance, and he's more than willing to reassure you.

"That's good baby, that feels good." He says with a voice like honey as he skates his lips across your neck.

His praising words make your insides melt, spurring you on as you keep rolling against him. The way the soft skin of his dick moves against your soaked walls in euphoric. Your hands cling to each other, lips kiss where the can, short breaths fall from your mouth. All of it creates a truly beautiful atmosphere. It's nothing like the urgent, frantic mood you had last time. This doesn't feel like two teenagers who can't wait to see somebody naked for the first time. This feels like two people who want to be uncovered by each other.

His hands slide so he can spread his palms across your damp back and you shiver from the feather soft intimacy of the motion. Your forehead falls against his and your eyes lock.

"You're incredible." You sigh as brilliant sparks of pleasure start to build in your core.

You slowly build the pace of your hips until you're rocking against him with a rhythm that makes his nails claw at your back as he groans and pants. He's so deep inside you, reaching and rubbing against every sweet spot you have.

"Fuck- that's perfect doll- so fucking perfect." His voice has climbed in pitch slightly, he sounds almost whiney.

Your head falls to his shoulder, you shove your mouth against his collarbone in an attempt to muffle a pitiful sob as it shakes your abdomen. The feelings are all so fucking intense, your eyes screw shut as your walls start to flutter. Your chest aches as your head spins, completely incapable of comprehending all of the sensations drowning you in this moment.

"James- James I'm gonna-" Your words are cut off completely as one of his strong arms easily cradles you so he can flip you onto your back. You hit the mattress and he doesn't give you a single second to catch your breath before he's rocking his hips against yours.

"Fucking hell." You huff out as he plants his hands on either side of your head so he can bare down even more when he thrusts.

"I wanna see you, wanna see that pretty face." Both of you moan uncontrollably when you spread your legs even more to give him better access. Soon he's hitting some rapturous spot deep within you, setting off every nerve in your body.

Tears gather in your eyes and it takes every ounce of self control you have to not succumb to the desire to start crying beneath him. His body is moving so beautifully above you, every muscle working to give you everything he has. Your eyes burn with the tears you refuse to let fall as you pull your bottom lip into your mouth to keep another sob caged inside you.

"Baby, don't hide anything." He says with a broken voice as he drops to his elbows so he can bring his face closer to your own.

"Cry if you need to, I got you." He punctuates his sentence with a stunning moan, and it absolutely breaks you. Your body trembles as you finally release all the emotion you've been suppressing. Your back arches and you finally let the tears cascade down the sides of your face. The sight of you falling apart beneath him, so fragile and overstimulated, it motivates him even more. His pace increases as he chants nonsense phrases of adoration to you.

He tells you how beautiful you are, how tight you feel, how good you are for him. All while your entire body quakes for him and his magnificent pace. You don't want to say his thrusts are hard, that word seems so utterly insufficient for how he's making love to you right now. His movements are committed, he fills you up with every push in and leaves you wanting so much more every time he draws back out.

"Baby you feel so good- fuck- please don't stop." You beg him as your cunt starts to pulse around him again, body edging towards that blinding release.

"No fuckin' way, I'm never gonna stop." He pants while his thick eyebrows push towards each other as his face crumples into a look of intense focus.

He braces himself on one arm so he can snake a skilled hand between your bodies, thumb finding your swollen clit almost immediately. It hits you immediately, almost before he even touches your sensitive bud. Your body anticipates his touch and sends itself over the edge, and my God it's fucking brilliant. Your pussy grips onto his cock as it slides in and out, your hands claw at his hot skin as his name falls from your lips. You sing him a pitiful song, made of incoherent swearing and plenty of crying.

"That's it sweet girl, give it to me- shit you're squeezin' the life outta me." You barely retain the words as he spits them out between frantic breaths as he chases his own high.

In one fluent motion, James flips your legs over each of his shoulders. He grabs the meat of your hips and lifts your pelvis off the bed as he brings his torso upright so he can settle back on his knees. If you thought you were crying before, you were fucking wrong. You scream out as tears flood your face, you can't tell if you're hurtling into another orgasm before your first has even finished, or if it's all just one long, mind numbing climax. Regardless, it's too good to be true. Every inch of you tingles and clenches as James snaps his hips into you, the angle sends fluorescent jolts of pleasure into your cunt and up your abs.

"Yeah doll, keep cumming for me, you feel so fuckin' perfect." He tosses his head back as he nearly shouts your name.

Your body starts to cool down just enough to provide some clarity. You're still twitching and tears are still rolling, but you at least have the wits to throw some praises at him. It's the least you can do when he's working so hard to make you fall apart.

"Fuck James, you made me cum so hard." Your words have an affect on him instantly, his fingertips bite at your flesh as hips tense and you feel his cock twitch inside you.

"You make me feel so good baby, you drive me fuckin' crazy." He lets go of your hips and throws your legs apart so he can fall on top of you again. He presses his forehead against yours before his lips meet your own so he can kiss you like it's the last time he'll ever have the chance.

"Let me feel you cum James- fuck- do it inside me, I want you to cum inside me." Your hands are at the sides of his face, thumbs rubbing his temples affectionately as you lose your mind.

"Oh baby- shit doll- I'm gonna- oh my God- Fuck!" With that final exclamation he buries himself inside you, enchanting moans fall from his full lips as he tenses and fills you. You hold still and focus on the feeling of his cock pulsing inside you as he moans above you. His sounds are so full of relief and what must be exhaustion. Your eyes flutter open to observe him while he finishes. His eyebrows are high with his eyes shut and his lips parted as he tries to catch his breath while his orgasm fizzles out. His eyelids slowly peel apart and soon you're both watching each other. You're completely enthralled by the work of art above you, and he is entirely captured by the muse below him.

Slowly, like he doesn't want to ever leave, he inches his softening length out of you. You hate the feeling of him leaving your body, you hate how empty you feel. He presses a fond kiss to your forehead while he smooths some of your sweaty hair down.

"Don't move." He whispers. Then he's off of the bed and through his bedroom door, you assume to find something to get you both cleaned up.

Your body is still buzzing from every moment you've just shared with him, you gingerly roll to your side and pull the sheets up against your naked form. You pay little mind the mess spilling from your core, ignorant to the possible consequences it might have. You glance around his room, taking note of all the baseball cards, the toy cars, and the dirty sneakers. The room is bathed in the dull yellow streetlights, giving it a glow that seems otherworldly. It all does. Especially James.

He reappears with a washcloth and a glass of water. The sight makes your heart swell immeasurably, he's still naked but it doesn't strike you as anything to be bashful about. It's all of him, all of James and his unmatched beauty. It feels natural to be this exposed with each other, it feels right.

"Such a gentleman." You tease as he walks towards the bed so he can sit on the edge.

"For you? Of course." His smile is as dazzling as always while he hands you the glass of water. You prop yourself up on your elbows so you can take the glass and sip it slowly. Thankful for the relief the cold liquid brings your exhausted throat.

"Spread those gorgeous legs." He says as he takes the glass back from you so he can set it on the nightstand.

"Round two already?" You joke.

His laugh is full and rich, it spreads through your veins and makes adoration bubble in your chest.

"Not yet, doll." He presses the cloth between your folds to clean up his mess, the sensation makes you jump a little, but he's done as quickly as he's started. The cloth joins a pile of dirty clothes in the corner after he tosses over his shoulder, then he's climbing back into bed with you. He opens his arms once he's on his back beside you. Naturally, you settle into his side and lay your head on his chest. His fingers trace along your spine as he kisses the crown of your head.

"You're a beautiful little thing." He mumbles, voice heavy with a sleepy tone.

"You're perfect, just perfect." It almost sounds like he's talking in his sleep, so you glance up to check.

He's wide awake, glacial eyes piercing your own as he gazes down at you.

"Thank you, for all of this." You say. By all of it, you mean for the love, for the spark of life, for the precious bond you've found. Somehow without saying all of it, you know he knows exactly what you mean.

"Thank you for loving an idiot like me." He says softly.

"It couldn't be anybody else." You say, completely resolute in your admittance.

You lay there like that for God knows how long, just drinking each other in. Mumbling words of praise, astounded by each other's existence. You exchange sweet little jokes, press priceless kisses into every inch of skin you can reach, and make beautiful promises.

"James?" You say as you draw figure eights on his chest with your finger tip.

"What happens next?" You question.

He takes a deep breath in as he twirls your hair between his fingers.

"Well-" He's cut off by the sound of the front door opening. You both bolt upright off the bed, clinging to the sheets. The sounds of lovely, soft laughter fills the house. One is the laugh of a woman, full and warm, the other is bright and twinkly, obviously belonging to a younger girl.

"Shit." You whisper simultaneously as you glance at each other with pounding hearts.

"James?" The woman's voice calls.

"Yeah ma?" James hollers back, hand coming to hold yours as he tries to keep his mouth straight, obviously entertained by the misfortune of the situation.

"Whose truck is that out front?" She asks, then footsteps start to echo as she climbs the stairs.

"Oh my God." You whisper.

"I guess you're meeting my mom, that's what happens next." He says quietly. Your eyes are on his immediately, every reasonable part of you says to panic, but the look on James' face is absolutely priceless. His cheeks are pink as he pulls his lips over his teeth to keep from busting out in laughter. It's ok though, you do it for him. Soon you're both doubling over with laughter, embracing the inevitable awkward encounter that you're about to have with his poor mother. It'll be ok, it'll be wonderful, anything will as long as you two stick together.

Taglist:

@b-o-n-e-daddy @lillsrecs @all-art-is-quite-useless @brownlee-22 @peace-love-hobbitness @pinknerdpanda @supernaturalwintersoldier @can-i-sin-right-now @pennyroyalcreep @jessyballet @calwitch @aurora-sweet @learisa

#bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan #bucky x reader #captain america #marvel smut #sebastian stan smut #winter solider x you #marvel

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the-real-doggymcdogface · 3 years

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//Hi all! Cerberus has lent me his DevilPad for un-Cerberus-related activity. Don't worry. I gave him extra treats.

I participated in the Obey Me Secret Santa this year, and since my other OM accounts on social media are NSFW, I needed a safe place to post it.

This is for you, @boxwel! I hope I did your request justice.

Deep Freeze

Mammon/MC

Lucifer/MC

Angst, SFW

Ever-so-slightly PG-13? Maybe?

:read more:

Letting your good humor pull him in, he began walking toward you, intent on joining you in your snowball fight against his brothers. Before he got close enough for you to see, Lucifer appeared, seemingly from nowhere. Extending his hand to you, he smoothly pulled you up and into his arms, murmuring something with a small, soft smile. Mammon had thought your face was red from the cold but it was nothing compared to the blush that bloomed on your cheeks with a shy little grin at whatever Lucifer had whispered in your ear. Watching as you grasped his brother’s coat to stretch up and meet his kiss caused an ache in his chest that Mammon hadn’t felt in millennia.

Turning away, he swiftly made his escape on silent feet. He felt nauseous at the sight he’d just witnessed. Seeing Lucifer in such a soft moment left him feeling dirty somehow, but that wasn’t what was making him breathless. He should have known you’d choose his brother. Perfect, smooth-talking Lucifer, always ready with his low voice and poetic words, carefully curated to get exactly the reaction he wanted. Of course you’d choose him over the hyperactive, immature Avatar of Greed. Mammon knew he was exactly the opposite in every way. There was nothing suave about him; he tripped over his words, overwhelmed by his feelings for you and pushing you away instead.

The roar in his head seemed to calm just in time for him to hear the soft shuffle of feet in the snow. Desperate to hide his heartbreak, he quickly wiped some snow on his face. Hopefully, that would explain the evidence of his tears. His heart dropped just that much more when he heard your voice behind him.

“Mammoney?”

Please don’t call me that. Don’t use endearments when you’ll never be mine, he thought.

“What are you doing here all alone, Mammon?” Of course Lucifer would be with you. He just couldn’t catch a break, could he?

“Thinkin’.”

“That’s a new endeavor for you. How is it working out? Have you hurt yourself yet?”

Mammon plastered a smile on his face and turned around just in time to see you gently smack Lucifer’s chest with the back of your hand.

“Be nice, Lucifer. Mammon isn’t stupid, no matter what you say.”

“Mammon, literally no one calls you that,” muttered Lucifer.

“Shows what you know,” he quipped back. His brother merely rolled his eyes at him. “So, what are you two doing here? Looking for a bit of ‘alone time’?” He made sure to throw in a leer to make his meaning clear. If they thought he was joking, maybe they wouldn’t see his shattered heart. The flush on both of your faces told him he’d hit the nail on the head, and he suddenly wanted to be sick.

“I missed you Mammoney. I was just trying to find you,” came your quiet voice.

“Haha yes!!!” Levi whooped triumphantly. “Once more my tactical genius has led me to a most satisfying victory! All hail King Leviathan!”

“Why do ya always talk so funny when you’re playin’ games, huh?” Mammon sputtered through the snow.

“I do it because it is the only proper way to celebrate defeating my foe!”

“I’ll show you foe,” growled Mammon, bending down to scoop up some snow and preparing to return fire. He lined up his shot, wound up his arm, and got beaned on the back of the head with a snowball just as he let go, missing Levi completely.

“Direct hit! Wonderful shot, Satan!” crowed Asmo. He was sat on a large stone, refusing to get involved with the fight and risk ruining his expensive coat, so he claimed. When Mammon turned to his assailant, Satan was bowing to his audience of one.

“Thank you, Asmo. But it isn’t hard to miss a head that big.”

Asmo’s gleeful shout of laughter was cut short by Mammon’s snowball. “I’m a pretty good shot when I’m not bein’ sabotaged ya know! And ya aren’t even movin’!”

His younger brother’s beautiful face was marred with fury, but Mammon had accomplished his goal and made Asmo get involved in the game. For a short, blissful time, his heartache was a dull throb as he and his brothers chased each other around, pelting one another with snowball after snowball. Their shouts of laughter and mock anger filled the little area of the forest they’d trekked to and for a moment Mammon felt like life was normal. Until you and Lucifer rejoined the group with messy hair and disheveled clothing.

“Oh ho! Having fun in the snow, I see! How positively naughty of you!” teased Asmo.

“That’s disgusting,” muttered Belphie. “No one wants to think of Lucifer that way.”

“Oh I do it often,” purred the Avatar of Lust.

“If you could please cease this inane conversation, we should probably head back to the cabin.” Lucifer sighed.

The group set out for their warm shelter while Mammon silently seethed at the sight of you and Lucifer walking with your arms casually slung around each other. Your sweet laughter floated back to him, making his heart clench. He had a feeling this pain was going to get worse before it got better, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to hide it. You would try to comfort him if you found out, which would be the very last thing he would want when you were out of reach. Lucifer would reach as yet unheard-of levels of smugness that Mammon was sure would mean the two of them coming to blows. As the cabin came into view, you fell back to walk with him.

“What’s wrong, Mammoney? You’re awfully quiet, and that concerns me.”

“It shouldn’t, it’s a nice change of pace and we don’t want to ruin it!” snapped Belphie.

Mammon felt his face burning before he curtly replied, “It’s fine. I’m just tired.”

“Poor thing. Maybe you should take a nap before dinner? You can use my room, it’s the quietest.”

He couldn’t help the small smile that graced his features. You were always so sweet, so selfless. Too good for him, to be sure. “Thanks, maybe I will.”

You reached down and gave his hand a squeeze before heading back to Lucifer’s side. As the 8 of you entered the cabin, there was a flurry of boots and coats being tossed around, and the stern voice of Lucifer reminding everyone to take care of their wet outerwear instead of simply throwing it in the corner. It proved to be the perfect distraction and allowed Mammon to sneak away unnoticed. Well, mostly unnoticed. You followed him to your room, concern still etched on your face.

“I promise I’m fine. I just need a little bit of rest, that’s all.” He said.

“If you’re sure…”

“Positive.”

“Okay, well I guess I’ll leave you to it. Have a good nap.”

“Thanks. Goodbye.”

A startled, slightly frightened expression crossed your face. “Goodbye? What does that mean?”

“Slip of the tongue. I meant to say good night.”

“Uh huh…”

He knew you didn’t believe him but he climbed into your bed and ignored the way you stared. After a moment you left, leaving him to enjoy being surrounded by your scent. Just for a little while, he told himself. He had no idea how long he’d been lying there before you came to check on him, but he quickly tried to look relaxed and deeply asleep. It must have worked since you silently snuck in and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek before tiptoeing back out. He heard you tell someone you were going to let him rest a while longer and soon the faint sounds of his brothers sitting down to dinner floated up to him. Perfect, he thought. Throwing the covers off, he left your room as quietly as you had, sneaking down the hall to the room he was sharing with Asmo. Fortunately, he hadn’t unpacked much so it was easier to get everything back into his duffel bag. He’d just leave his coat and boots behind. He might be uncomfortable, but he wouldn’t be particularly cold or in any danger the same way a human would if he traveled in regular clothes.

He dropped his bag from the window, waiting for a moment in case anyone had heard. The cacophony of voices and laughter continued without so much as a brief pause. He hadn’t known when he got here that having a room on the opposite side of the house than the kitchen would be so advantageous. At least he had that tiny bit of luck. He jumped out of the window, grateful that the snow was cushioning his landing a bit. It may be easier for him to jump from the second story without breaking bones than it would be for a human, but that didn’t mean it was pleasant. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he jogged towards the nearby town.

It wasn’t long before he heard you shouting his name from the cabin. The voices of his brothers followed shortly, but they quickly grew faint and faded away. He ached at the thought of you worrying about him, but he figured his brothers would be ecstatic to be without him. He knew they would help you forget about him, Lucifer especially. No one would miss the scummy idiot, right? Eventually, he came upon a highway and stuck out his thumb. One last thought of you passed through his mind, but he pushed it away so that he wouldn’t lose his nerve.

It wasn’t like he was leaving forever. He just needed to let his heart freeze first.

#obey me secret santa #boxwel #obey me swd #obey me mammon #angst #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

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ziracona · 3 years

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The second of my ready updates:

The Kid (pt: 1, … 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16 ?) [Fate Grand Order AU]

We don’t find Ritsuka where we left her. It’s easy to follow the trail of carnage back, but there’s nothing there when we arrive, and Robin curses and hits one of the walls, muttering something I can’t make out. I want to say something to help him, but I’m feeling too much the same way myself. At least she’s alive, but if they’ve caught her…

“I told her to call us! And if she used that much mana, she knew she was in trouble, and she tried to fight instead!” snaps Robin.

“It’s possible something else happened,” interjects King David, “Couldn’t she have found someone else?”

That’s true. That’s true, and that would explain a lot! God, I hope so. I really, really hope so. I try to sense for another connection to a new spirit, but again, I find nothing, just like I can’t find my master.

“Come on,” says Emiya, “We need her back either way, and there’s nothing to do but search. If she left, she’d have started from here and had to head r—”

He stops.

I turn and follow his gaze. A little ways down the hall in that direction, there’s a door whose entire lock panel is melted. Bingo.

“Come on!” I call, rushing towards it.

As soon as I get there, I start to push open the door, but Robin catches me by my shoulder, and when I look, he’s pointing down the hall. “That way.”

“You can sense her?” I ask, amazed.

“No, but there’s faint mana traces in the air, and I’m extremely attuned to my own signature,” he replies, “She was wearing my cloak when we left her, and I can sense it picking up here—the trail goes that way. This way!” he calls to the others, “I’ll trace it!”

We tear off after Robin, turning down halls and up an elevator shaft. Alarms are blaring, and I still hear shouts in the distance. We only hit one patch of guards though, on the floor we get off on. They’re kneeling beside the downed bodies of other guards, whose blood has begun to dry already on the floor, and we catch them by surprise, knocking them out easily. She wasn’t alone, then, I think as I hesitate once the guards are down before moving on, And whoever she was with, they’re violent. And she wasn’t in control of them.

Not Ur-shanabi is good. Violent and not in control is really, really bad.

We go faster. A blur of tense, desperate movement down halls and past empty rooms and faint traces.

“I sense her!” shouts Robin, skidding to a stop halfway down a hall and changing course, “This way!”

He’s right! I check and I can sense her again too—one floor above us now, and a few halls over. King David breaks a hole through the ceiling with his sling and we move up as fast as we can, following her signature. We’re getting close, and overcome with a surge of intent, I pull ahead as we’re right on top of her and round the last corner first, and she’s there! She's there! She’s alive! She’s alive, and then the relief is immediately replaced with fear, because there’s a tall man I’ve never seen before, a heroic spirit like us, with some very intimidating energy coming off him, and two unmoving bodies slung over his shoulder, one a second heroic spirit, and the other Ritsuka, both unconscious and limp.

I draw and let a flurry of bullets slam into the wall all around his head. “Drop her!” I shout, “Or I won’t miss the next one!”

The man spins on his heel to face me and takes a step back, and I see on his face he’s thinking fast as the rest of the group slides into the hall behind me.

Seeing so many of us, the man grits his teeth and summons a long, thin sword made out of something I’m having a hard time looking directly at for some reason, simultaneously tightening his grip on Ritsuka and the other body and turning to angle himself between us and them. “What do you want!” he shouts desperately, “Aren’t all of you spirits too? Why are you attacking! What, are you dogs for this place?”

“We’re attacking because that’s our master’s unconscious body you’ve got highly god damn suspiciously slung over your shoulder!” snaps back Robin, bow aimed and leveled.

Eerily calm, beside me, King David readies his slingshot with a kind of poise and concentration that is genuinely unnerving. I do not think he will miss.

“Your master?” says the man in disbelief, “Do you think I’m an idiot? Outside of a ritual, a human being can barely sustain one spirit alone, let alone a human child—and this girl is my master. –‘Our master’? You expect me to believe this young girl is sustaining not just two, but six heroic spirits at the same time, alone?”

Wait.

Ahhhhh shit. Shit! That makes so much sense. Whooo second time today I’m real glad my instinct is to threaten and not to shoot strangers that only might be a huge threat!

“I don’t know what you want her for, but you’re not getting her!” continues the man with a ferocious intensity that makes him feel daunting, even heavily burdened and so clearly outnumbered. There’s a surge of mana around him, and in one burst of energy the grey suit is gone, replaced by a black and red uniform with a cloak and a full face mask, and the pressure in the room itself has changed and I’m suddenly hearing unsettling whispers in the air, and ah shit shit he’s flinging both bodies he was carrying out behind him and going to move which can only mean heee—crap crap crap; he’s about to use a bigass area of effect noble phantasm, and everyone knows it, and it hits me I’ve got about a third of a second before somebody shoots somebody in here’n—

“Wait, wait, wait!” I call, spinning my gun into my holster and stepping into the line of fire for the first few people beside me, hands up and out, because I like to think we’ve all hit the conclusion I just did, but everyone in the group is exhausted and tense and I’m not takin’ chances, “This was a mistake! Nobody shoot!”

To my surprise, no one does—not even the new guy. He stands, so tense he’s almost shaking, sword still leveled, but whatever he was about to do, he doesn’t—the mana level in the hall holds, and he listens.

Behind him in the sudden silence, I hear Ritsuka and the other guy hit the floor and roll with little thuds, and wince internally. I keep my focus on the guy in front of me and my hands up. “Sorry—We jumped the gun on you there-outah concern for our master,” I say apologetically, “I know this is gonna be real hard for you to believe, but she really is our master too. –If you find that hard to believe, you can check for yourself!—'parrently if you’re co-contracted, you can sense the connection to each other a little—you should be able to sense it from every one of us. Sorry I didn’t notice yours sooner; with our Master right on top of you, I wasn’t picking up the weaker signal under such a strong one. I can find it now, though.”

Taken aback and mistrustful, the man hesitates, then very slowly lowers his sword just a few inches, and beside me I sense the others do the same with their weapons in response. Taking that as a good enough show of faith, the man turns his head towards each of us in turn to sense for connections, then cranes his masked head to look at Ritsuka’s limp form where she landed, and says, “But. That’s impossible.” The earlier viciousness is gone now, and the air pressure in the room returns to normal. Wheeew, thank God! I let myself relax.

“She’s an unusual person,” replies Emiya, “Usually, you’d be right.”

“No wonder she passed out after forming a contract with me, the poor girl,” says the man softly like he means it. I decide I really like this guy. Got less than no idea who he is, but he was gonna get himself killed just now trying to keep Ritsuka and whoever else he’s got there from gettin’ hurt, instead of droppin’ ‘em and savin’ himself, and he clearly already likes her, so what else do I gotta know?

Shit—speakin’ of—

“I’m uh—just gonna go pick her up off the floor then? If we’re all cool?” I declare just in case the guy hasn’t decided he’s on board completely yet.

“… Oh. Yes,” he says with a note of chagrin, turning himself to look at where they’ve landed.

I go to her as fast as I can, unsurprised to hear everyone else coming too. The new guy comes as well, but he goes to the other body.

When I reach Ritsuka, I’m relieved to see she doesn’t look injured anywhere, just a little bit pale. I take a knee and scoop her up gently, trying to make sure there’s no damage I don’t see.

“Well, you look like you’re in one piece at least.” Robin, speaking softly. I glance up and watch as he takes a knee too and looks her over too. She’s still wearing his cloak, and he touches the hood, which is hanging loose, then sighs and pats her on the head. “And you took it off, I see. But I guess your judgement was okay, since things turned out like this. I won’t give you the worst time when you wake up again. You damn fool.”

The others are above us too now, and I glance up at King David and Emiya. I stand up so they can see too without trouble. “She’s fine, right?” I ask, since they both do healing to some extent. She seems like it, but bein’ unconscious always means somethin’ ain’t quite right.

King David reaches over and places a hand on her face for a second, then smiles. “She’s alright—just exhausted. –Good throw!” he adds cheerily to the other heroic spirit, who glances over in surprise from where he’s just stood up again himself with the other body he threw in his arms, “I don’t think that even really bruised her!”

The man seems to consider responding, but have no idea what to say, and shuts his mouth and just kind of gives an awkward nod. He hesitates, then moves closer to get a look at how she’s doing himself.

I haven’t had a chance to get a good look at the second heroic spirit—the one he’s holding—before this, but I do now. And…it is grim.

Shit. Whatever they did to him, it was bad. Weird that after what most have been two months of absolute hell I ain’t comfortable enough with to look at, I still feel like I got comparatively lucky. Least I knew what was going on…

“If you don’t mind my asking, what exactly is a teenager like her doing here, and with six heroic spirits contracted to her?” asks the new man, glancing over at us.

“Uh, rescue mission,” says Robin, gesturing vaguely, “Happened to see that one in trouble,” he indicates me, “broke him out, summoned him for backup,” he indicates Emiya, “and they came back here to clean house. The rest of us were all in about the same position I expect you two were.”

“Ah, then is that why he’s…?” says the man, gesturing to our unconscious lancer.

Emiya gives a nod.

“What about yours?” I ask.

The unconscious spirit in his arms is in way worse condition than our lancer is—at least, he looks a lot worse. The guy’s body is covered in deep purple runes and markings I don’t recognize that glow and pulse faintly, carved into his skin, and his body is swollen horribly all over and covered in tiny red bumps. The bags under his eyes are deep and his face gaunt and hollow looking, even swollen, which is somehow worse than either would be on its own. His long blonde hair is lifeless, damp with sweat and caked to his body, and he’s breathing raggedly and weak. I have seen spirits in conditions as bad as this from wounds, in the heat of battle, but never…sick? I can’t think of any other way to describe this, but he looks sick, which we don’t get any more—and he looks terminal, at that.

“Yes. This is what they did to him. …I…haven’t been able to fix it all. I thought my master might be able to help me when she woke,” answers the man. He’s stayed in his armor and mask, so I can’t see expressions at all, but he’s got a trustworthy voice—real sad, though.

“Can I take a look?” asks King David, “I may be able to help.”

The man hesitates, then says, “Yes. Uhm. —alright. –Might I ask who the rest of you are?” like he knows it was stupid to still be untrusting at this point, but he can’t help it. I think he and the other spirit must be friends, because I can’t imagine him being this level of protective over a complete stranger, and it’s about how I expect I’d be with Robin or Geronimo.

“You first,” says Robin at the same time Emiya says, “After you,” and they both look incredibly pissed that the other had the exact same impulse.

“Right. My apologies,” says the man formally, and I buy that—he seems frazzled and stressed. “My true name is Antonio Salieri.”

God damn it. I try to smile and not let my absolute lack of knowledge show on my face. Now there’s two spirits in the party whose names I have never even heard—this sucks. It always feels low-key rude not to know. It looks like King David’s in the same boat as me, so I feel a little bit better, but Robin and Emiya I think recognize it.

“And him?” asks Robin. Emiya was definitely about to say almost the same thing, but he stops himself from overlapping this time and gets some kind of an expression on his face.

“—I’m Billy the Kid,” I interject as friendly as I can, because I feel like we’re pilin’ it on a little harsh here.

“Thank you,” he tells me, then turning to the others, “This is Mozart—Wolfgang Amadeus.”

Oooooh, the composer! That’s pretty cool. Robin and Emiya both get incredibly strange looks on their faces, though, and I know Robin well enough to tell he’s suddenly trying really hard not to laugh nervously. The heck’s that about?

“King David,” chimes in King David, oblivious to this and holding up a finger in greeting. Salieri turns to stare at him. Then he begins softly to laugh hysterically, and everyone gets real quiet.

He doesn’t seem to realize how weird that is, and just looks down at the body in his arms and says, “It appears once again God looks out for you only, and particularly.”

“Guys?” I prompt in the hopes of turning this conversation back to semi-normal, and because it’s kinda bad form not to exchange names once an ally tells you theirs.

“Robin Hood,” says Robin, punching his timecard back into the present.

“…Emiya,” says Emiya like he doesn’t want to answer.

Salieri glances back up, serious and normal again, and nods slowly.

“May I?” says King David again, and Salieri obliges. King David starts looking over Mozart thoughtfully, muttering to himself in what I’m pretty sure has gotta be Hebrew, and he flicks his wrist without looking and his kinnor appears by him. As I watch, he shuts his eyes and begins to play. It’s the longest and most intricate melody I’ve heard from him, and it’s fascinating to listen to. Beautiful. Nothing I’ve ever heard before either, and he sings softly with it in his own tongue. It’s…really incredible. I’ve heard some pretty good piano players and guitarists in my own day, but seeing somebody like this, you understand for the first time the concept of a genius on an instrument—it’s so unlike anything I’ve heard before, it’s like it’s a totally different thing than what I thought of as music. While he plays, the glowing purple markings start to twist and dissolve on Mozart’s skin, a piece and a few at a time from foot-to-head, and as they go, his body begins to repair itself. It’s a strange thing to watch, curses leaving a body, but it's pretty amazing too.

“Damn,” I whisper under my breath.

“You said it,” agrees Robin softly with a smile.

“So, uh?” I ask, focusing my attention back on Ritsuka and glancing over at Emiya, “Any way to wake her up?”

“You could smack her,” says Emiya offhand, and then there’s a half-second delay and he gets a look on his face that says very clearly he did not think before speaking and wishes greatly he had. He grimaces, and gives Ritsuka a glance, then reaches out with his free hand.

“—You ain’t gonna smack her, right?” I make sure—to bother him, not because I’m really worried he would.

Emiya sighs at me and I grin. He places a hand on her chest and I watch geometric patterns runs along her skin for a moment.

“She used too many circuits she wasn’t used to using,” he tells me, eyes still on Ritsuka, “Flooded them and burned herself out a little. –She’ll be fine, though—I’ve seen a lot worse of the same. I think it just tired her out, the same way an intense amount of physical exertion someone isn’t used to might after an adrenaline rush would. This should help her wake up.”

He removes his hand, and the patterns vanish. Ritsuka stays still for a few seconds, then groans and turns a little in my arms to snuggle against my shoulder, muttering incoherently, and I smile.

“Thanks,” I say to Emiya. He gives a nod. “How’s the lancer doing?” I add with a little concern. I really expected him to wake up again already. Emiya’s expression darkens and closes off.

“It’s complicated,” he answers after a moment, “But not well. …I can’t really fix what’s wrong with him; neither can David, and the problem’s not his mana supply from the kid. It’s what they did before, and don’t think any of us can fix it.”

“Not even with a command spell?” I ask, taken aback and feeling a chill settle on me. Thinking about him vanishing and getting dragged back here to…that shit again. We got to raze this place to a pile of ash. A part of me wonders if that’ll really be enough, though. We’re lucky in that mages tend to guard any breakthrough like hoard of gold, but at the same time, these mages are selling, and if they’re selling, god knows how much they were willing to part with for money.

Emiya shrugs. “A spell could forestall death a little, but they’re not really meant for repairing a spirit origin with a gaping hole in it. This is something that’d take time and experience to figure out, if it can be fixed. The good news is that he’s not going to die in the next few hours or anything, unless he takes a lot more damage—if there’s one thing he excels at, it’s being damn near impossible to put in the dirt quickly—so, we don’t have to rush for a solution while we’re here. If we stay focused and on task, we should have a chance after we deal with this place. And if not, so long as we bring this place down, he should at least be able to avoid being brought back here.”

He's really thought this through. I know he’s a tactical fighter anyway, even not having known him long, but something about the amount of detail makes me think despite the weird interaction they must be some kind of friends. I’m distracted from considering that any further though, because Ritsuka shifts a little again and opens her eyes about halfway. “Mnnn…” She blinks unevenly at my vest, then turns her head up and squints at me. “…Billy?”

“Heya,” I say with a smile, feeling immense relief seein’ her up, “Feelin’ better?”

“Oh?” says Emiya, moving in too, “You’re up faster than I expected.” I feel pretty sure that’s his version of saying he’s relieved to see her okay.

“I am?” asks Ritsuka, still a little foggy.

“Hey kid,” says Robin, leaning over from the other side, “I see you did the exact opposite of what I asked you to.”

“No I didn’t,” she mumbles, blinking and trying to focus, “I was gonna call. I almost did—when I thought I was in trouble. But it was okay. I met a new…Oh!” Her eyes get clearer, and she tries to sit up before realizing she is being held and can’t very much like this. “Antonio! I met this other spirit—did you find—“

“—Don’t worry,” says Emiya, “He’s safe and sound; we already met.” I move to accommodate her view. “He’s right over there with David and Mozart.”

Salieri and King David are both looking over already, and King David gives a grin in greeting but keeps playing. Salieri starts to say something, but Ritsuka does before he gets a chance.

“With—‘Mozart’?” she asks, face scrunched up, looking from him to the other three and staring with absolute blankness at them “—The…composer?? Where did he come from?”

Wait.

“Wait, you weren’t—you didn’t contract with that one?” asks Robin before I can.

“No—I never saw him before,” says Ritsuka, just as confused, “Do I need to?”

Ohhhhh—of course. Salieri didn’t think she could contract with more than one person, and he said she passed out soon as the two of them made a pact—we’re all idiots. I can’t believe I didn’t even think to check.

“Hey,” says Robin to Salieri, almost accusingly, “How’s your friend still solid?”

“I’m maintaining him,” answers Salieri, almost taken aback, “I can’t for long, but I can slow down his consumption. It’s a…” He glances back at Ritsuka and sees the same confused look on her face and his tone changes immediately, warmer. “class ability. Mana replenishment.”

“What class?” says Robin, in a tone that tracks, because I have never heard that one before either.

“…Avenger,” answers Salieri after a moment. ‘Avenger’? “You’re awake again,” he adds to Ritsuka in the most friendly tone I’ve heard from him, “Are you alright?”

“…Antonio?” asks Ritsuka, staring at him.

It takes him a second to realize why she looks that way, then he gives an, “Oh,” and flicks his wrist, and the helmet vanishes to reveal his face again.

“Oh—hi,” says Ritsuka, a little stunned still, “I’m sorry—I didn’t recognize you for a second—that’s really cool armor you have.”

He doesn’t look like he knows how to process or respond to that.

“I think I’m okay now. A little tired and sore, but pretty good actually—How about you? How are you feeling?” she adds. “Better? -I hope?”

Again, he seems taken off guard by the question, but he glances down at himself, then up at her. “I’m…alright. Certainly better than I was, at the least. Thank you.”

She smiles. “Good. Sorry I passed out before explaining anything.”

“Well, it’s no wonder,” he says, looking at the assembled people she’s keeping up, “And I think I’m fairly up to speed now.”

“Did you rescue him on your own?” asks Ritsuka, indicating Mozart. He nods. “And that’s Mozart? The composer?”

“Yes,” says Salieri with a very specific tone that I weirdly can’t place.

“Wow,” says Ritsuka. She hesitates and looks over the whole group before looking up and settling on me, “How long was I out?”

“I don’t think too long—maybe ten, fifteen minutes?” I suggest.

“You work fast,” she says to Salieri with a grin, “Thanks for saving him!”

Salieri, king of not knowing how to respond, looks back blankly for a moment then gives a hesitant nod.

“Uhm,” she continues, glancing up at me, “I think I can stand up now, if you put me down.”

“Oh! Sure thing,” I say, setting her down but keeping my hands up in case she isn’t as steady as she thinks. She’s not, but she catches herself just fine, then gives herself a second to get her sea legs back before trying to walk again.

“Sure you’re okay?” asks Robin.

She nods. “I’m just a little dizzy. I really do feel a lot better—I think I should be able to anchor another one of you just fine once he wakes up.”

“Are you sure though?” I ask, “You got six contracts runnin’ now, and the last one took you out for a little bit. –Don’t you think another one might knock you out even longer?”

“I don’t think so,” says Ritsuka, who in fairness is bouncing back wildly fast, “I know I passed out after making a contract, but I don’t really think that was why; I was already really faint before that—it happened during the fight with the gashadokuros—when that one popped out of the floor, and grabbed us? I think maybe it just hurt me a little or something, and I hadn’t recovered yet.”

“Oh,” I say, heart sinking a little.

“My ribs feel fine now though!” she assures me.

Yeah, I don’t really think it was the gashadokuro that did it. I feel kinda guilty, too, because I knew when I did it I was putting all of us at risk of vanishin’, but what else could I have done? …I mean, we were about to get smashed, and she’s supposed to be my top priority as a servant. Even though she said that ain’t what she wants, if I’m just pickin’ my own priorities for me, that’s still up top. Plus, we all made it, so it turned out okay.

“That was me, I think,” I admit.

She blinks at me and tilts her head.

“I used a noble phantasm,” I explain, “I’m sorry—I knew you were tapped out already, and we’d agreed we’d all have to not, because of about what happened when I did, but I didn’t see another sure way out of you and me gettin’ smashed—and it did work! And turned out fine—so.”

“But. I thought yours doesn’t take much mana?” she asks, confused.

“Well, Thunderer don’t,” I explain, “But I got more than one. Whole lot of us do. And they ain’t the same.”

Beside me, Robin gives a nod.

“Oh.” She thinks about that, then beams at me. “Well wait, that’s great then! If that’s all it was, I don’t have to worry about making contracts!”

I smile back.

“Oh—how’s the lancer doing?” asks Ritsuka, turning to Emiya, seeing for herself how he’s doing, and face falling a little, “He’s still not awake?”

“He was for a little, but he passed out again—probably when you did,” answers Emiya, “He’s weak, but he’s holding on. In his condition, it’s just going to take more of a mana flow to keep him awake than the rest of us.”

“Okay,” says Ritsuka thoughtfully, “Well. Since I’m awake, that means he’ll probably be feeling better again pretty soon too, right?”

Emiya gives a nod.

I wonder why he doesn’t tell her. I guess he doesn’t want her to worry about something she can’t fix, but I think she should know. I would tell her now, if Emiya and the lancer didn’t seem to be some kind of weird friends, because that means he might know and be doing what the lancer would want if he was up to pick for himself.

“Okay—can you let me know as soon as he wakes up?” she ask. He nods. “Did the plan go okay?”

I give a nod, and Robin says, “Sure thing—we left them on an upper level, made sure to give personnel a chance to flee, but scare them enough to motivate them. It’s gotten quiet too, so I expect they’ve un-summoned the things.”

“That’s amazing!,” she says, “Wow, everybody did a really good job on their own. Thank you—OH! Wait—Mozart—this means we’ve got all seven—six, I mean, right? –One for each catalyst?”

“Think so,” I agree.

“I haven’t sensed any more of us,” adds Emiya slowly, “Which should mean all that’s left is bringing the building down, and destroying research. Taking care of staff.”

Ritsuka looks worried by the last note there, but she nods seriously.

“So we go looking for heads of staff next?” I ask.

Emiya gives a nod.

“We should find the security office then—checking the tech will probably be the quickest way to find them,” says Robin, then with a sigh, “Damn shame we didn’t pick up an assassin. They’d have come in real handy right about now.”

Ritsuka turns to Salieri and David, I think because I’m gettin’ more used to her problem-solving style, to ask about Mozart’s class in case it’s Assassin, but when she gets a real look at Mozart with her full sense intact, what she was gonna say goes right out of her head and she freezes and just looks horrified instead. Then takes a little step closer and asks, “…What happened to him?”

“Some intricate curses,” answers King David, still playing his kinnor, “It’s a nasty bit of spell work, but I can undo it—I’m almost done. It’ll take a little for his vessel to repair itself after the curses are gone, especially with such a weak supply of magic, but it should work just fine.”

“We should get moving,” circles back Robin quietly to just Emiya and me, watching them, “The yokai scattered them pretty well for us, but that won’t last us forever. Don’t want to tempt fate here.”

“Which one was the kunai?” asks Emiya in the same tone.

“Huh?” I say, taking about five seconds to mentally shift subjects back to catalysts, “Oh. Uh.”

…Who was the kunai? I try to mentally figure this through. “Picture,” I say pointing to myself, then gesturing to Robin, “Coin.”

“Earring,” says Emiya, indicating the ones the lancer is wearing.

“Earring,” I echo in confirmation, then glance at King David and the other two. “…I…King David’s gotta be the pitcher, right? And one of them must be the letter, the other the knife—could Salieri be the kunai?”

“If it was a common dagger, maybe,” says Emiya, “But a kunai? For a classical Italian composer?”

He’s got a point.

“Let’s find out,” says Robin, then louder, to Salieri, King David, and Ritsuka, “—Hey—sorry, quick question. These people had six catalysts for sure, and we have found six of us now. But we’re not sure they match up. –Don’t want to leave someone behind, you know. So, aside from us, there was a pitcher, a kunai knife, and a letter. We’re assuming you weren’t the letter or the knife,” he adds to King David, who gives a nod.

“From that list, I would have to be the pitcher—it was probably an oil pitcher,” confirms King David.

“That leaves two, and two of you, but neither of you make sense for the kunai,” says Robin.

“No, we don’t,” agrees Salieri, glancing up from the body in his arms, “We were both the letter.”

“You were both the letter?” I ask.

“Yes. It was from him, about me,” says Salieri tiredly, “And it called us both.”

That’s the worst possible timing to get dual-summoned anywhere. Almost any other situation it would at least be nice to be in a foxhole with an old friend. Talk about grim luck, I think. “So we’re still one short?”

“…I guess,” says Emiya slowly, “Or they simply haven’t used it yet. It seems like most of you haven’t been here long yet, Lancer only a few days; we don’t really know what schedule they’re on. The research stations aren’t far from us or the security huh, though—If we go there first, we can probably find the answer.”

“That sounds smart,” says Ritsuka hopefully, “Let’s do that—we can’t leave somebody.”

“So was that a success?” Robin asks King David, glancing over at Mozart. The composer looks a lot better now. The glowing curses are gone, and while his body still looks kind of messed up, it looks a lot less on the verge of death. I guess that’s in line with what King David said. Still, poor guy is still pale and breathing shallow and weak. Whatever the spells were, they must have been hell on him.

“Yes, his vessel is resetting itself,” says King David proudly. He lets go of his kinnor and it vanishes. “It was some intensely specific spell work, they have a gifted and dangerous mage on staff. The mental effects should be already gone as they were more curse alone than inflicted physical damage, but it’ll just take however long it takes for his mana supply to replenish him enough to heal the rest.” He absently pats Mozart’s head once which almost startles Salieri. “Poor man. They really did a number.”

“Will it be enough?” Ritsuka asks, glancing up at Salieri, “To heal him okay, if it’s just from you? –I’d form a contract with him if he was awake, but, I can’t—I could give you a command spell though, for the energy, if you need it!”

“That’s kind,” says Salieri, “but you should keep them for true emergencies.” He looks at the man in his arms fondly and a little sadly. “I can tell he’s bouncing back remarkably fast as well, for all the damage done, so I expect he’ll be alright in a short time if things continue the way they are. He won’t be in danger of vanishing before that happens.”

“That’s good,” says Ritsuka, clearly relieved.

“We should get moving, then,” Robin almost interrupts, “We’ve already been in one place too long, and we can’t afford to lose momentum—especially if they’ve got tricks like earlier at their disposal. They seem to have temporarily lost us, and I’d love to keep it that way.”

“Right,” says Ritsuka, straightening up, “Okay—if David’s done, then let’s go.”

David gives a nod.

“Could one of you carry him?” asks Salieri hurriedly, like he’s afraid we’ll take off first.

It takes me a second to get that he means Mozart despite how obvious that should be, just because it’s so totally out of left field as a thing I’d expect him to say.

“I can continue to sustain his mana if I’m fairly close, and I can trade—I’ll take that one,” he adds quickly, indicating the lancer Emiya has, which visibly throws Emiya more than anything I’ve seen since Ritsuka calling him ‘Dad’, “—I have no trouble fighting while holding someone, but if I keep Mozart with me much longer, I may kill him.”

…

“You’ll what?” says Ritsuka.

“I. May kill him,” Salieri echoes himself quietly, glancing down at the unconscious body in his arms.

“…But.” says Ritsuka helplessly. Yeah.

“I thought you were friends?” I ask, lost myself.

“We are,” agrees Salieri, “Or—I am. I. Was—it’s complicated. I, Salieri, was his friend—am, his friend, but, I, as I am now—as the thing that has been carved onto the throne, am also his sworn enemy.” He’s struggling a little. It’s strange. Aside from the one time he went into hysterics he’s seemed as normal as the rest of us, but it’s suddenly like he’s trying really hard not to completely fall apart—not in a crying way—like he’s frazzled and shaky mentally all of a sudden, and struggling to ground himself. It…makes me sad. Almost agonized, he turns to Emiya and Robin like some last-ditch hope. “Tell me—you recognized my name. What do you know it from?”

Robin doesn’t answer, but Emiya says, “Stories. About you killing Mozart.” There’s something about his tone. Low, and something else too. Between pity and understanding. I think he gets what’s going on, even though I don’t yet. Though. …I think I might be afraid I’m starting to…

“Yes,” says Salieri bitterly, “That’s what everyone remembers, true or not, and so it is what the Throne wanted, and what the throne got.”

Oh.

Oh God. … I—s-shit. That’s…I’ve heard of that happening before, sort of. I’ve met people, just a few, that were a little like this—people from stories so many folks believed were true, the throne grabbed someone as like them as possible, and twisted them—fucked with their personalities and memory and abilities, and threw them on the throne as only a little who they were before, and a lot who it wanted to force them to be, to try and make someone who never was. I hadn’t thought about that happening with personal rumor—public opinion versus the truth, but of course it must. Which is…awful. …

“But you didn’t,” says Ritsuka, a question, but not at all a ‘did you?’—it’s very much a ‘so it doesn’t make sense?’.

Salieri glances at her and smiles a little sadly, exhales slow. “No. I didn’t. But that doesn’t get to matter for me now. I’m an Avenger.”

“I.” Ritsuka looks at him, then us, settles on Emiya, “I don’t know what that means.”

“They’re…embodiments of resentment,” says Emiya in a level tone, “Unlike us, associated with a legacy of skills or feats, they’re tied to an injury or hatred from their life, and manifested as an embodiment of that rage and the desire to chase it—to avenge.”

“So…You’re. …trapped?” she asks slowly, eyes big with worry as she turns back to face Salieri. He watches her solemnly with a kind of resigned, quiet sadness I recognize very well. “As…the desire to. ...”

“Kill him,” finishes Salieri for her simply, “And a personification of hatred of him as well. Always.”

“That’s awful,” says Ritsuka.

He tries to smile at her. “Yes. But there’s no escaping it. I ask only that you take precautions, with both of us here. It will be difficult, perhaps impossible, for me to do so on my own.”

She looks at him, then down at the floor, fist clenched, thinking hard. “But,” she says desperately as she looks up at him again, “But you didn’t do it—you’re still you. From before. You remember everything, right? You said—And you think like you, and—and when I was unconscious, you went and rescued him all on your own; you didn’t kill him!”

“Yes, you could say that,” says Salieri quietly, looking at something far past all of us, and I think maybe long ago, before returning to the present, “But it would be as fair to say that I am only a small part of him—of who I was. And that I am also very much the fabricated Man in Grey whose purpose and desire is to kill him. As well as a manifestation of people’s lies, and their hatred, and my hatred of them for it. I am more than one thing; I am enough things now that I could not say with certainty which one I am even the most, or if I am one the most at all, or if I am truly any of them, but I can say with absolute certainty that I cannot be trusted to stay the one I or you would wish for an entire summons.” He looks at her sadly. “I told you when you offered me a contract that I am dangerous. Not to you, not if you’re careful. But I am afraid I will not be as useful as you would wish. Despite my best efforts…”

“But,” says Ritsuka again, “No—it’s not about that. It’s—"

“—Think of it as like a command spell,” offers Emiya gently, taking a step up to be beside her, “But woven into him on summon, instead of lasting a short time. Even if he’s still who he was, none of us can resist compulsion forever. That’s not his fault or something you can fix for him. It wasn’t added to his manifestation here—it’s an integral part of it. Let him be careful.”

There’s something he doesn’t say, but I hear it just the same, from his tone and his expression, and the one on Salieri’s face. That this is Salieri’s way of trying to be himself, by achieving the goal he’d have wanted, even if it can only be attained by keeping himself at arm’s length and gunpoint.

And I think he’s right.

Ritsuka I think gets it too, at least mostly. She looks from him to Salieri in distress, then lets out a breath and nods. “Okay. …I’m sorry,” she adds, looking up at Salieri with so much sorrow on her face.

He smiles weakly. “Thank you, Master.”

“Oh,” she says worriedly, “please don’t call me that—you can just call me Ritsuka.”

He cocks his head at her.

“Like I said before,” she continues hopefully, “I don’t want a servant—I just want to help.”

“Oh?” says King David, who I’m realizing didn’t get the pitch when we snagged him. He seems both amused and happy about this development.

“Very well, then,” says Salieri, with a little half-bow.

“Oh—and you—” she adds, “Do you prefer Antonio? Or Salieri? Or Mr. Salieri?-“

“Salieri is fine,” he responds.

“Salieri,” she echoes in confirmation.

“Alright then, let’s get moving—Like Robin said, we’ve already lingered here too long,” says Emiya, moving forward and offering an arm, “I can carry him.”

“Alright, I’ll take yours then,” says Salieri.

“I can take both,” replies Emiya.

“But then how will you fight?” asks Ritsuka.

“Oh for crying out loud,” exclaims Robin, cutting off whatever reply Emiya was about to give and shooting him a look, then turning to Salieri and holding out his own arms, “Here—I’ll take him.”

Salieri passes the body carefully to Robin, though he looks unhappy about doing it.

“Oh—your cloak,” says Ritsuka, taking it off and handing it to Robin.

He glances back and takes it with a wink, casually slinging it over his shoulder, “Next time I lend this, you might want to actually use the invisibility.”

“Well, I did as long as I could,” she tries, but he’s already grinning at her, and she gets she’s being teased and smiles back.

“Let’s move,” calls out Emiya, a little annoyed now, and he takes off. Robin follows, but Salieri and King David both hesitate and glance at Ritsuka.

“I got ‘er!” I call, snagging her with an arm and bolting off after the others. She makes a surprised sound between a laugh and a yelp and then grins at me. I think it must be fun, going this fast when you’re still a human. I woulda enjoyed it for sure. Really should bring her goggles though—what if we have to go really fast at some point? I file that away.

Behind me, Salieri follows close, King David taking up the rear. I’m very glad we got Emiya on the team, because he’s got a good sense of direction and an ability to channel his mana into physical objects to read layouts and mechanical workings. I mean, we’re all not bad at figuring the layout of anywhere as heroic spirits, but the level he’s on is truly impressive. Guess Ritsuka got the summon answer she really needed after all.

As one, we dart down halls and through an empty gallery. Instead of hitting the elevator shaft again, now that they know we’re here, Emiya snaps a hole through the floor above with his bow and just takes the fast route from point A to point B. I can sense people nearby and a lot of mana not far above us myself now. I take a corner right after Robin and by the time I’m in the next hall Emiya has already downed six of eight guards, and Robin is taking shots at the next two. They are quite a tag-team, but I have a strong feeling they would both hate being told that.

“They were surprised,” Emiya informs us mentally, “It appears the distraction with the gashadokuro worked better than expected—they seem scattered.”

We race through this floor, passing offices and closed doors. I sense a large amount of mana behind one, and Emiya must too because he stops to kick it down. There’s no one inside, but there’s an automated familiar defense system, and a bunch of little magecraft wasps fill the air in a swarm. My gut tells me they got some kind of poison, and I slide to the side to take Ritsuka out of the line of fire before taking some shots at the swarm from the cover of the doorway. I’m thinkin’ Emiya, Robin, and I can all easily deal with this, but it’s gonna be hard not to damage everything in the room doing so, when I suddenly hear the sound of a grand piano behind me and turn in I think the only emotion one can have hearing a grand piano where it shouldn’t be, to see Salieri with the faint glowing outline of a phantasmal instrument at his fingertips. His fingers flash across the keys with precision and incredible force, and myriad of little grey figures appear between us and the swarm and destroy them in a flash of light.

“Thanks,” I say, kinda stunned. He gives a nod.

Emiya has wasted no time and is already inside, searching.

“What? Why did we stop here?” Ritsuka asks me.

“Something with a lot of mana was inside—we couldn’t tell what,” I reply, then to Emiya, “What was it?”

“Yours,” says Emiya by way of answer, stepping back out and chucking Robin his coin, which he catches in surprise and then turns over in his fingers with a very hard to read expression on his face. “Yours,” he adds to King David, tossing a clay pitcher, “And yours,” he adds, handing Salieri a very old letter in a sealed package.

“Where’s mine?” I ask at the same time King David says, “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“I can carry it!” volunteers Ritsuka, “I brought a backpack!”

He can’t seem to think of a reason not to, and gives it to her.

“Yours wasn’t in there,” says Emiya, “Neither was the kunai, or the earring.”

Huh. I…guess maybe it means they were already setting up a circle somewhere, to try and drag me back. That’s a great feeling…

Nothing to do about it though, so I give a nod and let myself puzzle through that while we move towards our target. There are a lot of alarms going off throughout the building now, which isn’t good, but I am starting to notice as we go that the security cameras aren’t tracking our movement. Emiya was taking care of them earlier, but I haven’t seen him do that in a bit—I think we’re past caring. But…

We hit the end of this floor and move up again, right through the floor like before. I hear Emiya’s voice in my head say, “Focus up. We’re nearing the research stations.”

He’s right. The layout of this building has been fairly similar before now, long halls, large rooms, similar numbers of rooms per floor. Interspersed with open areas like walking intersections. This floor is different. We come up in an abandoned office room, but the second we exit it, I see a huge metal door blocking us. I can feel the enchantments on it too—and it’s not just blocking a room, it’s making the entire rest of this floor inaccessible. On top of that, the thing fuckin’ looks like the entrance to a bank vault.

“Talk about extra,” Robin says, thinkin’ the same thing I’m feelin’. He glances at Emiya. “Can you tell if there’s any weakest point to the bounded field?”

Emiya touches the field, and it seems to shock him. He snaps back his hand and shakes it, then reaches his hand up like he’s going to call one of his swords, stops, and grimaces. “…It’s strong, but it’s far from the best one of theirs I’ve seen. I could break it right here, but it might put too much strain on our master.”

“-Ritsuka,” corrects Ritsuka.

“Ritsuka,” he echoes in our heads. He studies the door, then places his hand on the wall beside it, just before where I can sense the bounded field begin, and I feel a surge of mana from him. “I can point you to the weakest spots in the walls, but you’ll have to break the outer seal with your phantasm,” he informs me, “The rest of us don’t have the firepower right now.”

“Let’s go,” I agree, setting Ritsuka down and drawing my gun.

Emiya summons his bow and blows through a wall on our left easily, then indicates a spot to me on the forward wall, about eleven feet beside the door, and 3/4th the way up the wall. “There’s humans past this. Be ready to fight,” he warns us mentally.

I step up. “Let’s do this here and now.” I feel mana from Ritsuka flood me and level my gun with a surge of energy, “Fire!” The bullets tear into the wall and there’s one moment where they’re there in the wall, stuck on the bounded field, still pushing forward but not moving, like watching a fish try and break free from a net, then the bullets win and the wall shatters in a mass of metal and magic shrapnel. Emiya throws up a shield that looks like flower petals to me between us and the debris, and the second the initial burst is over, he dives in through the haze of dust. We all go with him, weapons ready. And he was right—there are people. About six mages sit at workstations, two of them already on their feet, shouting warnings and sending spells our way. There are four guard on our right side, and I can hear more people in the next room too. The first mage up summons a line of long needles, and is tactical enough to send them flying not at Emiya, but at Ritsuka past all of us. I move to deflect them, but Robin does the same ahead of me, furious, knocking them out of the way with his bracer and drawing on the mage who sent them, sending a bolt from his crossbow into their shoulder. The next one is smarter, summoning two golems from the ground to buy time. Robin takes a shot at one just before Emiya physically collides with it, ripping it to shreds with his shortswords, then spinning on his heel and taking the head off the second one. Panicked, the mage starts to cast another spell, but I hit him in the side before he can, and he goes down. It is real hard hitting someone deep enough with a gun that they go down for good, but don’t die, but I am tryin’ my best here. For the little boss.

The other four mages are all up now, and the guards have drawn their guns. King David’s gone in a flash, reappears by the heavily armored group, and starts taking them down with a shepherd’s staff which has to be one of the most cool things I’ve ever witnessed. He’s so floaty. Keeps springboarding off their machine guns when they try to take a shot and kicking them in the head, spinning around in the air and bringing his staff down right on top of another’s helmet. Springboards off that one’s chest as they fall back, then off the first one he hit too to project himself towards the last two, ramming his staff into both their necks at once.

Pretty sure he’s got that covered, I turn my attention back to the remaining four mages. One of them has summoned an arc shield around herself and the woman next to her, while the other is firing bolts of energy at Emiya and Robin from inside, and the other two have split up, one using mana to accelerate their own movement and try to move to flank us, the other getting some distance and trying to coordinate with the others by firing off stuns at range. He actually gets a hit on Emiya’s sword when the guy goes to deflect it in the middle of bringing down a golem and dodging another bolt, not catching it’s a stun in time, but he shakes it off somehow almost instantaneously—That’s right. The bounded field didn’t do much to him before, did it? Or not for long. Maybe he did know what that was. He’s good at that kind of thing. I call behind me to Salieri to take care of the flanker, and take a shot at the guy firing stuns. He manages to summon a shield fast enough to deflect my first shot, but the second one shatters it, and the third slams him in the shoulder and knocks him hard against the far wall hard enough he goes down.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Salieri pull what looks like violin strings made of blood from out of his own neck, and use his sword like a bow. Bursts of magic slam into the floor in front of the mage trying to flank us, and they fall partway through the floor and are left unable to dodge the last shot, which slams them squarely in the head and leaves them unconscious. I hope. Haha shit. We forgot to tell him Ritsuka pleaded with us to go non-lethal, huh? Whoops…

Ahead of me, the mage in the shield realizes that hitting Emiya isn’t going to work, and takes a shot at the unconscious lancer on his shoulder instead to throw him off. This has the opposite effect. Emiya barely rotates to keep the guy on his shoulder from being shot, then flings his shortswords at the barrier with so much force it shatters, and he’s in there almost as fast, catching the mage by the throat and flinging her into the far wall. Robin slides in and sweeps the feet out from the other, then knocks her unconscious with an elbow.

“Next room!” calls Emiya, indicating the same door I heard noise behind myself. The faster we go, the less chance they have to set up defenses. It occurs to me all of a sudden we have not assigned someone to bodyguard Ritsuka—a potentially fatal oversight—and slide back to stay with her as ahead of me, Emiya takes down the next door.

“Stay close, okay?” I ask her, trying to reassure her because she looks incredibly overwhelmed. Guess for your average teenager this is a whole lot of intense violence.

“Y-Yeah,” she manages, a little pale.

Shit.

“Hey, Salieri,” I call to him mentally, “Forgot to mention—Ritsuka bein’ a soft-hearted teenager, really wants us to kill as few folks as possible.”

“I’ve been informed,” he responds the same way, “She begged me to be merciful when I went to attack.”

I check with the senses I have as a servant to see if I can pick up the sound of the guy breathing from here. I can. Damn, I think, watching Salieri follow the others, And you held back. Guess you really like her too.

“Don’t worry—we’re doing what we promised,” I tell Ritsuka, “I can hear the heartbeats. –We’re holdin’ back.”

That seems to reassure her, and she gives me a nod. I pick her up and run after the others. They’re already breaking into a fight when I make the door. Less people here—just a couple security officers guarding the room, two people working tech diagnostics of some kind at terminals connected to a very large databank, plus one mage who seems to be overseeing things. The tech workers have taken one look at us and gone for the smartest human solution—an attempt to surrender—and curled up under one of the desks with their hands over their heads. The mage is shouting at them, and us, and security. One of the security members tries to shoot us, but King David lands a shot from his slingshot down the barrel faster than he can pull the trigger, and the weapon explodes on the guy. Emiya launches a couple swords at the other and pins him to a wall. The mage throws up a hand and starts to summon something, but I cap him in the knee and he falls to the ground cursing, then gets a kick to the head from Robin that lays him flat.

Beside us, Emiya flips the desk the tech workers are under and sends it skittering across the room and they both scream and try to crawl back. He’s way too fast to avoid, though, and darts past them, hitting them both behind the neck in passing, and they collapse, unconscious.

Emiya informs us mentally we’re almost to the core research station. That means probably a lot of people.

“When we get there, we’ll be able to find out if they summoned the last one?” checks Ritsuka.

“Probably,” comes Emiya’s reply, “Unless they’ve predicted us and flushed the system, we should be able to, so the faster we go in, the better.”

“Do you think they know where we are right now? The defenses have been surprisingly uncoordinated,” says Robin, flexing his fingers absently to keep them limber.

“There’s something wrong with security,” agrees Emiya, “Like we guessed before. Whatever is happening, it’s clearly deliberate, and I think it’s likely at this point we can agree it’s not a trap—it’s someone working towards their own goal.”

“Oh yeah! There definitely is! Someone was helping me earlier,” cuts in Ritsuka, “—I forgot-“

“-You forgot?” asks Robin.

“So much happened!” says Ritsuka, “But yeah, you were right,” she adds, turning to Emiya, “Someone is either helping us, or trying to hurt Ur-shanabi—or both—because they opened the door to Salieri’s cell for me, and sent me a message to go in.”

“Oh my god and she went,” says Robin so quiet only I can hear him. I feel him. You’re so nice but that sounds like such an obvious trap, I think, feeling the same distressed emotion I hear in Robin’s voice.

She reads the look on our faces. “Well, it worked! And they didn’t try and hurt me at all,” she pleads, “So my intuition was right!”

“I understand trusting your gut, and I respect that,” says Emiya very tiredly, “But please. Don’t do that in every suicidal situation that presents itself to you?”

“—Either way, that’s good, right?” says Ritsuka, “It helps us.”

“It does,” concedes Emiya in an exhausted done, “Probably, anyway. I wish you’d given us the full version earlier, because we really can’t postpone hitting the hub any longer without giving them way too much time to flush information or prepare. Once we’re out, please tell us everything.”

“Right,” says Ritsuka with a nod, serious now, “Sorry.”

He returns the nod. Then gets an annoyed look on his face. “…Shit, if whoever is attacking Ur-shanabi is tapped in enough they’re communicating openly and controlling security feeds and doors for extended periods of time, we might run into trouble trying to hit the security station to find organization heads. We might not be able to access their information there at all.”

Oh. Shit… “What then?” I ask, “We still try and figure it out if that fails?”

“It’ll be dangerous to try and comb the whole building, if it comes that,” offers Salieri thoughtfully, “We should move preemptively if we can.”

“He has a point,” agrees Emiya. He considers. “Robin, you’re by far the best scout here. You should split off and try and find any head offices or command centers they have, or any leads on where leadership might be that you can find. If security is totally down, that’s the best shot we’ve got.”

Robin gives a nod and flips up his hood.

“Will you be okay alone?” Ritsuka asks worriedly.

“Sure he will,” I answer for him, “I never knew anybody better at keeping a low profile in a tight situation.”

Robin snorts and gives me a smile. “Something like that. –Who’s taking the composer?”

“I can,” says King David, happily taking Mozart from Robin and slinging him over both shoulders like he’s carrying a sheep. I feel like maybe I oughtta volunteer, since I ain’t at all so far, but I’m even shorter than King David…

“Alright. Best of luck,” says Robin with a two-fingered solute. He activates May King and vanishes.

“Okay!” Ritsuka calls after him, “But if you get into trouble, call to me, and I’ll use a spell!”

I hear him laugh quietly. “Well if that ain’t familiar,” he says, the sound of a smile in his voice, and he’s gone then.

“Okay—let’s be quick,” says Emiya, to the rest of us, “Last time they figured out where we were, they sent yokai after us.”

#fate go fic #the kid (fic)#the kid #fate grand order #fate go au #fate go au fic #fate fic #billy the kid #emiya archer #fate salieri #fate billy the kid #ritsuka fujimaru #fate robin hood #fate king david #writing

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random-imagines-blog · 4 years

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Under The Stairs {Cedric Diggory x Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: @mminerva15 Wordcount: 3002 Summary: Cedric wants to tell his friends about your relationship. With you being a Slytherin, you didn’t think that was going to go well. You hate being proved right sometimes.

Dating in Hogwarts was never easy. There was no such thing as privacy, since it wasn’t as if you had your own room that you could pull your significant other into. Even hanging out in the common room, if you were lucky enough to be dating someone in your own house, could easily be watched over by everyone else. Hogsmeade dates were not only overseen by other students, but by the people who actually lived and worked in the village, who sometimes gossiped with the teachers, which was extremely embarrassing. The most that one could hope for was finding an abandoned classroom, and even then - sometimes Fred and George would miraculously find out where you were and toss in a dungbomb for their own sick entertainment. That happened more than once, but you managed to track down the twins and show them what it meant to miss with a Slytherin. Your Hufflepuff boyfriend, Cedric, tried to laugh it off, and managed to keep it to a tickling curse rather than one where they were covered in leeches.

But you two did manage to find a spot where people hardly looked. Under the stairs. The staircases moved back and forth, taking students to different destinations but the ones that lead to the dungeons were stationary, and beneath them was a dark alcove without a torch. Perfect for the occasional snogging session, and it was rather close to your common room so you could sneak back easily. Being secretive was all well and good - until your boyfriend approached you with a strange suggestion.

“I think we should tell people,” Cedric said, pulling away from you with puffy lips.

“About our secret spot? No way,” You scoffed. “It was hard enough for us to find this one, let alone try to find somewhere else because some stupid Gryffindors will try-”

“No,” Cedric laughed, taking your hand and pulled you to where there was a bit more light so he could see your face. Your green robes contrasted against his yellow ones. That’s what you liked about being in the dark. There was no difference. “About us. We’ve been snogging down here for a month now and it’s been great but...”

“But what?” You asked. “You want to ruin that?”

“I don’t think telling our friends would be ruining that. Why do you?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Cedric but I don’t think that I’m the sort of girl that your friends would pick for you.” You said, voicing something that had been on your mind for a while. It was nice to finally let it out. You were the one who had insisted on sneaking around for so long, and this was the first time you were able to give him a reason why. “I know they’ve been pressuring you to ask out Cho Chang. That’s the kind of girl that they think is good for you.”

“I’m not interested in Cho,” Cedric said, softly.

“I know, you don’t have to convince me of that,” You chuckled. “I’ve never been worried about you liking another girl. The hicky I always have to cover up with a spell makes me very secure.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer so you wouldn’t have to speak loudly and get anyone’s attention. Even the ghosts liked to gossip around here. “I just think that your friends will give us a hard time, and we don’t need that.”

“I’m more worried about your friends then anything,” Cedric said growing defensive.

“What, because they’re Slytherin? I mean, you have no problem dating a snake, why would the judgment of others bother you, hmm?” You shot back, letting go of him, and crossed your arms in front of your chest. “Tell you what, Cedric, I’ll join you for breakfast tomorrow and we’ll just see who is cooler.”

“I guess we will.” Cedric said, walking away from you, turned on his heel and ascended up the stair case to the main level. Though he couldn’t see you, you stuck your tongue out at him, and under your breath, cursed that you agreed to this. Tomorrow morning was going to be very interesting.

The Great Hall was filled with the buzzing of students enjoying their breakfast and getting ready for a day of classes. A group of fourth years were sitting together and doing last-minute studying for a Transfiguration test. Fred and George Weasley were watching the Slytherin table carefully, like they were waiting for something to happen. When you walked in, you noticed that right away and started to think that perhaps your idea wasn’t terrible. You didn’t want to be a part of whatever was going on there. You straightened up your shoulders, shook your hair back, clutched your morning books to your chest, and strolled to the Hufflepuff table with confidence.

Most people didn’t pay attention at first. They were so busy enjoying their food that they didn’t care. But when a Slytherin made her way to the Hufflepuff table and sat across from the golden haired Quidditch star? That got a little bit of attention.

“Morning, Ced,” You said, taking a plate and started to pile your favorite breakfast foods on it. He looked a little amused, but also taken aback by the fact you were actually doing this.

“Morning, beautiful,” He said in return, pouring some orange juice for you into the cup next to your plate. You smiled in thanks, and arranged your plate the way that you wanted, and started to pick on it. “You’ve got potions first thing, right?”

“Yeah, a morning full of Snape,” You said with a shrug. “That’s the only time that I’m really glad to be a Slytherin. I get ten points just for showing up.”

“Lucky. I got five taken off for dropping my book,” Cedric said with a dramatic sigh.

“Okay, what’s going on here?” The guy sitting beside Cedric said, looking between his friend and yourself. You stared over at him with a blank expression, waiting for him to clarify. “Morning beautiful?” He mocked the male Hufflepuff.

“She looks great this morning, what can I say?” Cedric smiled over in your direction, though he seemed a little more shy than usual.

“As opposed to what - every other time?” You questioned, shoving food into your mouth. Cedric coughed into his own glass of orange juice. “And you, are you calling me ugly or something? Because that’s a very rude thing to hear first thing in the morning.”

“This is a joke, right?” The guy said, looking at Cedric now, flat out ignoring you. You rolled your eyes, gave Cedric an 'I told you so’ look, and went right back to eating. Whatever answer that your boyfriend was going to give was interrupted by the sound of liquid hitting the ground. Thick liquid. The entire Slytherin table was absolutely coated in a green sludge.

“Weasleys,” You muttered under your breath with a shake of your head. “Whatever hits them, they brought it upon themselves.”

“At least whatever it is doesn’t smell,” Cedric said, right before all of hell broke loose. The Slytherin girls started screaming about their hair, their books and their outfits getting ruined, and swore revenge on the Gryffindor boys. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who it was that had brought on this prank. The twins were the biggest pranksters to hit the school in almost twenty years. The boys, meanwhile, had a pack mentality and all together, chased the redheads out of the great hall, with more than a couple of teachers following behind to break up the mess. “Are you going to do something?”

“Doesn’t really affect me much, since I’m over here. Thank Merlin for that too, looks like it was some sort of dye,” You noticed. “Oh by the way, I guess I should introduce myself, though we’ve been going to school together for six years now. I’m y/n, Cedric’s girlfriend, and you are?”

“Confused,” The Hufflepuff said in return. “Since when?”

“Pleased to meet you, confused,” You said with a little snicker.

“About a month now,” Cedric said, avoiding your eye, continuing to stare at the chaos that was behind you at the Slytherin table. “We wanted to keep it a secret originally but ... I really like y/n, and I want my friends to know.”

Alright, if you were any more of a girl you would have put your hands on your heart and let out a big 'aww’ because it was too damn cute. However, you kept it inside and instead just smiled at your food.

“Okay, yeah, sure,” Confused said. You were pretty sure his name was Calvin or something close to that. You could tell that he was going to be a problem. He was glaring at you pretty heavily and to your surprise, Cedric was doing nothing about it.

“Well, this has been a joyful breakfast,” You said, wiping your mouth with a napkin before setting it down on your empty plate. “But I have a class to get to. I might get points for being the only one on time.”

“Maybe I’ll join you for lunch?” Cedric suggested, looking at you hopefully. You softened under that look. This boy - he sure was growing to be a weak spot.

“I don’t know. Ask your handler,” You looked Calvin up and down before blowing your boyfriend a kiss and exited the Great Hall to return to the dungeons.

Turns out, the Slytherins were far more preoccupied with how to get revenge on the Weasleys than they were about your relationship with a Hufflepuff. “Better one of em than a lion,” Your best friend said as she joined you at your cauldron. “Does this mean you’re going to go support their Quidditch team over ours?”

She didn’t even mind that her hair was green from the prank. She thought that it was fun, and you thought the look suited her well. “Nah, I’ll still be in the Slytherin stands. Might go give him a private congratulations though if he catches the snitch, if you know what I mean,” You nudged your friend and she laughed.

“Gross. But I guess he is pretty dreamy for a badger.”

“You have no idea,” You chuckled.

After class, you stayed late to help Snape clean up after a disastrous Ravenclaw somehow grew distracted and their potion overbubbled into a huge mess. Extra ten points for Slytherin, well done you. So you ended up being the last one to leave the classroom and walk through the dark and dingy corridor towards the staircases. However, there ended up being a group of four keeping you from their path. Badgers, come to show that they had claws too, apparently.

“Good morning,” You sighed, seeing them, feeling like the points you just earned were slipping through your fingers. You could anticipate a fight happening. “Or is it afternoon already? I haven’t had a chance to look at a clock.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Calvin said, or at least it seemed to be him. “It’s time for you to stop feeding your poisonous love potion to Cedric.”

“Wow, okay,” You said, clutching your wand which was in your cloak pocket, ready to bring it out to defend yourself if you had to. “I was expecting low but love potion? That’s actually really messed up, even by Slytherin standards.”

“Slytherins don’t have standards,” One of the other Hufflepuffs said.

“Alright, I’ll let that one slide,” You said, exasperated. “Look, I’ll swear to you right now that I’m not doing anything other than being my lovely, charming self in order to get Cedric to care for me. No potions, no spells, no anything. And you’re being really bad friends if you don’t accept that he found someone. Even the Slytherins aren’t making a big deal out of it, so why are you?”

“There’s no way that Cedric would fall for a snake. You’re going to ruin his life, you know that right? He’s meant to be with one of his own kind, or even a Ravenclaw. We wouldn’t even complain about a Gryffindor. But a ... a death eater?”

Your mouth fell open as he accused you of being something that you would never, ever be. It might be a little foolish to take it so personally, but you did not fall into the Slytherin bad-guy stereotype. You wanted nothing to do with blood feuds and evil wizards. “And we Slytherins take the time to get to know someone before we judge them, so who is really the snake here?” You asked, releasing your wand. They wanted to get a reaction out of you, and though they had, you wouldn’t let them see it.

“If I catch you anywhere near Cedric, I’ll go to Dumbledore and tell him about how you’ve been using love potions. I’ll go to the Ministry. I’ll take it to the top if I have to, and you’re going to go to Azka-”

“Any trouble here, Mister Wilson?” The smooth voice of your potions professor said from behind you. You looked over your shoulder to see him step out of the shadows with arms folded in front of him.

“Not yet,” Calvin said, but he tapped on his friends shoulders and they proceeded up the staircase before they could get into any trouble.

“Miss Y/L/N?” Snape questioned, but you weren’t about to bring a teacher into this mess. Especially not Snape, who probably could not relate to teenage drama.

“Only trouble I have is forgetting to switch to my afternoon books, heh,” You laughed nervously, rubbing the back of your neck. “So I’m just going to go and do that now... see ya.”

You hurried towards the Slytherin common room, but didn’t go in. Rather, you circled back to the staircase once you were sure Snape was gone, and enveloped yourself in the shadows beneath. “Did I really just say see ya to Professor Snape?” You groaned to yourself.

Sitting down, and wrapping your arms around your knees, you thought about everything that was said to you. You weren’t sad about it, they didn’t bring you down or make you insecure. You were downright furious, and trying to stick to the blackness so you wouldn’t go charging up those stairs and making a scene.

The minutes ticked by, turning into hours. You didn’t have a watch but you realized that you were missing your afternoon classes. That was fine. You needed to wait until you cooled down to be able to focus anyway. You kept repeating those words inside your head - death eater? Was that what Cedric thought of you, before the two of you were picked to be together during an Arithmacy assignment and started to fall for each other?

Were the Hufflepuffs so high and mighty that they really looked down on everyone else? What happened to the fairness, or the just or whatever word the hat used for them that year. Wankers, that’s all they were. A bunch of wankers.

“Lumos,” A male voice said, and a bright light interrupted your stewing under the stairs. Cedric stood before you, his robes slightly torn at the sleeves. “I thought you might be here.”

“What happened to you?” You asked, slowly getting to your feet to look at what had happened to his sleeves. You could smell something earthy, and see the stains.

“Herbology - and my friends being bastards,” He said with a shrug, tugging his sleeves out of your hands. “I’m sorry for what happened. You were missing at lunch, and then they hinted at what happened. Something about removing the curse or freeing me from it or something like that. It took a little while to put two and two together but...”

He replaced the fabric that was in your hand a moment ago with his own hands, and stood with his forehead pressed against the top of your head. Your anger was dissipating. Looking into his golden eyes, you realized that he couldn’t have thought those awful things about you. He wouldn’t be here now if he had.

“... they’ll be leaving you alone from now on. I made sure of that.”

“What did you do?” You asked, blinking, feeling your eyelashes brushing across his skin. “You didn’t fight them, did you?”

“No,” Cedric chuckled. “I did threaten to leave the Quidditch team though, and that got them to shut up fast.”

“You shouldn’t have to threaten your friends in order for them to be happy for you,” You sighed, squeezing his hand.

“I know, but they’re the only friends I’ve got until we graduate,” He said, smiling cheekily. “Maybe they’ll grow up, we’ll see.”

“I guess we will,” You said. You pressed a soft kiss upon his lips which he returned. You could feel how chapped they were. As if he had been biting them, which he only did when he was nervous. “Were you really that nervous about them getting to me? You know I’d never break up with you just because I’m threatened by some badgers, right?”

“Maybe I was a little concerned...” He said, sucking on your bottom lip which brought out a moan. “But I know now - and they’ll have to learn.”

“They say Hufflepuffs are good finders,” You said, pulling him out of the dark and into the light before things could carry on too much longer. “I guess I can hold out hope they’ll find their heads in their arses one day.”

#Cedric Diggory #Cedric Diggory x reader #Cedric Diggory oneshot #Harry Potter #Harry Potter oneshot #oneshot #oneshots #request #cedricd

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meowdymista · 4 years

Text

Van der Driscoll

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

Warnings; injury, Micah, angst

Part 2 & Masterlist

Redrafted and continuing on AO3

Notes: There hasn’t been an abundance of fic floating around (and what has been published is making my arthur head explode with love), so I figured I might as well throw out this old thing I thought I would finish but never went back to. I submitted a fic request to @the-awkward-outlaw who took a much less angsty approach. This is far from perfect, but eh

******

You swallow the blood filling your mouth, but it does nothing to wet your throat. A dozen faces have thrown you dirty looks mixed with confusion and apprehension. The cowboy that brought you here on the back of his horse has been retained in the large tent - which in turn is on the other side of the cart to where you’ve been bound.

You’ve been trying to eavesdrop, but all you’ve made out is bickering, scolding and multiple hushed insults aimed at you. Whenever Arthur begins to raise his voice, someone comes from around the cart to spit at you or kick your feet.

Closing your eyes does nothing to help your headache, nor the sting of the bullet wound in your side. Your tongue is repeatedly drawn to an unusual sharpness inside your cheek, making you wonder if the mexican broke a tooth when he smashed the handle of his gun into your face. Not that it matters. You were surprised you weren’t already dead, but still lacked any doubt of seeing another sunrise.

“What are you doing, O’Driscoll?”

You open your eyes in time to see a heavy bearded man grab a smaller man by the arm. The slosh of water hitting the grass is heaven, but also draws out the dire thirst in your throat as it's lost to the ground.

“N-nothin’, Bill.”

“Are you in on this? You set us up?”

“No! No, of course n-not! I’ve never even met her-”

“You gonna free her so she can slit our throats in the night?”

“No, sir! No! I was just-” He grunts as the man called Bill punches him in the stomach. A woman shouts and runs over, but Bill is stalking away into the trees, still growling threats at nobody in particular.

“I’m fine, Miss Gaskill," croaks the somewhat familiar man.

“Are you sure? He didn’t need to hit you!”

“I-I was comin’ over to see her. I jus’ wanted to know if she’s ok - bein’ tied to that tree, well, it ain’t no nice thing, Miss Gaskill.”

“I know, but Dutch is talkin’ with Arthur about it now. I don’t reckon they’ll keep a woman there as long as they did you.”

“I hope not.” The pair give you a forlorn look and disappear to the other side of the cart. You close your eyes again, trying to distract yourself from the memory of fresh cold water sliding down your throat.

You must fall asleep, because when the boots come into view your neck is stiff and the horizon is brightening the ink of the sky. You try to look up, but the muscles in your neck decide otherwise.

“What were you doing there?”

You try to speak but your throat is too dry to even cough. A hand reaches down and lifts your chin firmly. Arthur’s face is without humour, and his brow the lowest you’ve seen it. You inhale sharply as his lips thin with impatience.

“You been with’em this whole time?” You shake your head instinctively, but he catches your hesitation and releases your face with a grunt of disgust. “Shit.”

You close your eyes again, trying to ignore the crackle of his stubble as he rubs a hand along his jaw. A lump is rising in your throat, but you try to swallow it. Now is not the time to be showing weakness, but the deep sense of betrayal is suffocating you.

“You been-? Too?” you manage to choke.

“I been what?”

“Van der Linde,” you hiss, forcing your head up to glare at him.

He scoffs and shakes his head, turning on his heel and stalking away. You hear a frail voice call after him, but you don’t care anymore. The tall broad frame of Dutch Van der Linde himself is marching towards you with a thin frail frame of a man following closely behind.

“-be easy on him, Dutch. He thought he was doing the right thing.”

“You are both getting far too soft!” You yelp as Dutch pulls you to your feet, the restraints burning around your wrists. “Since when did Colm hire women to do his dirty work?” You snicker, but a slap across your face cuts it short.

“He’s always had working women in camp,” you manage to gasp through the blossoming stars. “Not like you, though. He doesn’t keep them round.”

“I mean as gunslingers. That’s what you are, ain’t it?”

“He doesn’t.”

“What do you mean he doesn’t?" he scoffs. "How’d you fall in with them?”

The thin man steps forward, scrutinising your mess of a face.“You a spy? A lookout of sorts?”

You force yourself to withhold the hysteria bubbling inside of you. “You think Colm has thought of using spies?”

“I think Colm is always thinking of ways to catch us out,” growls Dutch. “It’s more a matter of what we do with you now we have you.”

“Just kill me already.” After all, it would be easier. Arthur’s look of disgust turns your stomach and not just from guilt. If you had known, you would have steered clear or even shot him there and then.

You can almost hear the men musing in front of you. Bird song is beginning to erupt as well as life elsewhere in the camp.

“Is that what you want, Y/N?”

The sound of your name jolts through you. Your gang had never used it because you had never made it known to them. This was a man’s world, and the only way to protect yourself had been to become one.

So you had. You’d bound your chest, cut your hair and changed your clothes. Before the camp woke, you would use the ash from the fire to disguise your soft jaw and thicken your brows in addition to mascara from your past life. Escaping for a few days to hunt was an excuse to bathe and become yourself again. Packing your things into your saddle bag, you made a stop in a stream off the road to wash your face and change clothes. It was the only way you could guarantee yourself some solitude when O’Driscolls were so plentiful in the local area. Any enemies you had made would ride by you as you rested or hunted game.

It was after a bath you had first seen him. He had been trying to de-escalate an argument with the hotel owner - something about him beating a man who had hurt a friend of his. Seeing your wet hair curling over your shoulders, he had given you a nod.

“They run good baths here?” he asked.

“They run ‘em hot and private enough."

He had immediately set down a coin. “I’ll have what she had.” When advised of the wait, he had waved his hand. “If this lady reckons it’s worth it, I can wait.”

That had been weeks ago. It felt a lot longer, but multiple brushes with death every day made everything count that much more. You had brushed off rumours of Van der Lindes in the area. How bad could they be compared with the headless chickens you ran around with? After riding out with Colm to scope a new camp, you had returned to Cumberland Forest to find everyone slaughtered. Any stragglers were shot on sight. How could they be any worse than what you were already with?

“I don’t know, Dutch. She’s a woman.”

“She’s an O’Driscoll!” Your body was too tired to flinch as he got up in your face, trying to intimidate you. “Whether Colm knew it or not.”

“What do you want to do with her? We can’t let her go, not now.”

“Suppose we could always kill her. Or better yet, get Kieran to do it.”

Hosea shakes his head. “I don’t think that will go down too well.”

“How else are we supposed to deal with her? We already have enough mouths to feed, plus another O’Driscoll in camp is begging for trouble.”

Your mind wanders back to Arthur’s look of disdain. The hatred was on a different spectrum to the crinkle of his eyes when he had found you again in the saloon. The cold that rolled off him was nothing like the heat of his hand when it had brushed yours on the ledge overlooking Valentine. You’re too angry with yourself to worry about the outcome. Even if they let you go, Colm will make sure you’re strung up for deceiving them. All your things are back at camp, and you know you won’t be able to bind your chest again for another few weeks with the wound in your side.

You lean your head back against the trunk and close your eyes again, ignoring their chatter but still unable to stop a tear leak down your cheek as they walk away.

***

The smell of food makes your stomach growl, but you ignore it. A small boy walks past staring at you openly, but his mother ushers him away with an air of distrust. You can’t blame her; you know the O’Driscoll’s are nowhere near as reserved as this gang when it comes to robbing and killing. You had heard them boasting about a stage they’d intercepted, filled with women and children. Apparently they weren’t the first to stop them, but they were the first to go all out and rob them.

You knew at the retelling of the stories that it was best to remain a man.

“Who do we have here?” A sinister chuckle rolls you out of your thoughts. The first thing you notice is the thick handlebar moustache, followed by the thin curtains of blond curls from under his white hat. His sneer makes your blood run cold, and you are tied too tight to move your face out of his reach. His long fingers stroke along your jaw. “I gotta say, this set up?” He steps forward, his lips almost brushing your ear. “It’s working for me.”

You squeak as a knife thuds into the wood above your head. The stranger steps back, and scoffs.

“Didn't your daddy tell you not to play with knives, Morgan?” He reaches up and pulls it out, playing it between his fingers. His grey green gaze transfixing you, the cool blade touches your chin, forcing you to lift your head and expose your jugular. “Don’t want anyone to get hurt now, do we, cowpoke?”

The humour is replaced with irritation at the click of a gun being cocked. He lowers the knife, and you realise you had stopped breathing.

“Try me, Micah,” Arthur growls, his revolver pointing at his temples.

Chuckling, he steps back from you and approaches his new target. “Sorry, didn’t realise you was practising your white knight act with Guinevere, here.” He throws you a look over his shoulder, looking you up and down and licking his lips. “I’ll be back, princess. Save some for me, hey?”

A gunshot rips through the camp. You’re breathless, blinking rapidly trying to work out where the bullet has entered your body, if you’re still alive. It takes all of ten seconds for you to realise Arthur had fired his shot into the sky.

You feel the rope tying your wrists together tugging up and down as Dutch storms around the corner with his entourage.

“What in God’s name are you playing at?” he spits as your hands suddenly fall free.

Arthur has already gripped your arm and is dragging you away from the crowd. You stumble, your legs having forgotten how to move themselves after days. You are dumbstruck as he reties your hands in front of you and hoists you onto a cart.

"I didn't bring her here for her to be Micah's plaything."

"What are you talking about, Arthur?" Dutch splutters. "Micah has been back all of two minutes-"

"I know I ain't put y'all in the easiest position bringing her back here, so jus' lemme take care of it, aight?"

Hosea walks forward, surveying you gently. "She can't go free. Not with the Pinkertons after us."

"I know," he growls, retying your hands to your legs to prevent you running off despite your lack of effort. “Don’t I goddamn know it...”

The old man reaches out to touch his arm. "Stay safe, Arthur.”

“Not you again!” you had teased as he waved a lazy salute in your direction.

“Any recommendations?” he asked, nodding at your plate. You shrugged and he ordered the same, bringing you over a fresh beer and sitting at your table.

“Fancy seeing you here, Mr Morgan.”

He smiled and removed his hat, running his hands through his hair. "I'm always in here, me."

"How odd… I seem to remember you getting barred for life a few weeks ago?"

"Ah, well. The bartender's a reasonable man." He shrugged, embarrassed as you laughed at him. "Can't say the same for that Tommy guy."

The sparkle in his eye has long gone. Not that you're looking at him, you're too busy trying to take in the smell of the trees and the birdsong, trying to ignore the fear in your thoughts. Who knows how he intends to kill you? Or where he will dump your body afterwards. What does it matter - no one is going to come looking for you. The O'Driscoll's mind their own and even if they did recognise you, you'd be strong up for treason. If the law recognise your identity, they'll consider it a blessing. You are on your own, restrained in a caravan with your captor.

"Why didn't you let your friends kill me?" you hear yourself ask.

His silence is stoic. You begin to wonder if you didn't say it out loud after all when he finally clears his throat.

"I couldn't."

"Why not?" You laugh, looking around. "Would've been easier than killing me out here - at least at my camp I was just another body from a gang fight. Out here you'll start a murder investigation."

"I ain't killin' yer." He throws you a sideways glance as you blink in disbelief. "Not yet at least."

"You just said-"

"What does it matter what I said?" He scoffs. "Like you're one to talk, Y/N."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You can feel the heat growing in your ears as you scowl.

"What do you think it means?" he snaps. Flicking the reins, he takes a steadying breath. "Why were you running with the O'Driscolls?"

"Why are you running with Dutch Van der Linde?"

"Tha's different!"

"Why?"

"Because I've spent my life runnin' with him an' the same can't be said for you if Colm doesn't know he's running with a woman yet." He scoffs. "He ain't ever taken kindly to surprises."

"You talk like you know him."

"I did for a while." He shoots you a look. "Way back when. How long you been runnin' with them? Since you don't know the history and you ain't been found out yet, I reckon five, six months?"

"Seven," you hiss. His brooding has relented enough to exude smugness and it's grating on you that he is still damn attractive.

"You gonna tell me why? Coz I ain't askin' a third time."

"Why does anyone become an outlaw? I needed money. It was only gonna be temporary but my cousin got shot up in that Blackwater massacre so I had to stay."

"Your cousin?"

"Yeah, Heidi. Your ol' Dutch should know her well."

#rdr2 fic #rdr2 fanfic #red dead fic #arthur x female reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur Morgan #arthur morgan x reader #Arthur Morgan x O'Driscoll

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ask-jokeboi · 4 years

Photo

The Party

Hope everyone's having a great holiday season so far! This time of year isn't always easy but thankfully friends and a good distraction can make things easier.

I drew these pic’s to pair with a moderately long fic I wrote to follow up the aforementioned party from earlier, it’s below the the cut! Read it if you want! Either way, Happy Holidays! 💜💚💛

Words: 4,142 Relationships: Harlivy /Harley & Joker friendship / Batjokes (mentioned) Universe: Mine / Lego Batman

A/N: sorry for any typos or weird grammatical stuff, I'm good at art, not writing

Summary: Joker’s felt a little down since Batman’s been out of town, will his best friend Harley be able to cheer him up?

Warnings: Alcohol use, implied depression

_____________________

"C'mon Jay it'll be be fun!" Cheered Harley, mustering all the enthusiasm she could in an attempt to persuade Gotham's former clown prince of crime to pull himself together

"I don't care!…. Go bother your girlfriend or something. Leave me alone…" He was currently piled under several layers of blankets, sunk deep into the ball pit he called a bed

"Nuh uh, I'm not haulin' my butt outta this room 'till you haul yours. You can stay in that pit and cry all ya like, but it won't fix nothin', you gott-"

"I don't GOTTA do anything!" Jay snapped. Throwing his blanket aside and revealing his less than kempt appearance, his face twisted into a frustrated glare

Harley, already familiar with Jay's usual harmless outbursts only sighed as she looked her long time friend up and down, taking in his surroundings with a curious eye

It'd been a month or two since Batman left the scene and his absence was definitely beginning to take a toll on the poor clown.

She could tell it'd been a while since he'd done anything to care for himself…. His hair, which was usually swept back into a flawless green pomp, lazily draped his face. The dull forest black of his roots beginning to seep back into the rest of it. Same could be said for the state his room which, due to his erratic nature, was always a bit untidy but had recently fallen into a state of near disrepair. Bags of half eaten junk food and empty bottles of all sorts of things lay strewn across the floor, particularly around his half deflated bed.

Despite the mess, he still seemed a little...thin… more so than usual to be honest… his ribs visible beneath the loose shirt he wore, arms comparable to sticks despite the muscle.

most of all though, he just seemed... tired. Jay always looked tired out of makeup. It was one of the first things she'd managed to take note of when he'd first entered her office years ago…. But right now the purple rings beneath his eyes that never seemed to go away were deepened to a point that made it clear he wasn't getting much sleep or doing much for himself in general...

Seeing her best friend in a state like this was hard to witness… and although her partner, Ivy, didn't have much but mild disdain for Jay, Harley couldn't find it in herself to leave him like this… which is why she thought a party might lift his spirits a little

"C'mooon! You love parties!! It'll just be a small one anyway!" It was actually much bigger than she was implying but Jay liked big and she didn't wanna scare him off too soon…

"Yeah, like that'll make things any better… who did you even invite?? A good half of the rogues don't even like me…"

"Sure they do!"

Jay only looked at her, bereft and unimpressed.

"I mean ok you and Riddler don't always get along and it took a lot a beggin' ta get ya un-banned from the iceberg lounge but still!!"

"Uhg whatever! It doesn't matter! I don't need those bozos seein' me like this anyway..."

"Like what?"

"I don't know! I'm just…... I'm not in the right… mood for something like that right now.... You know how this works… they'd see right through me. "

Back when Jay was still her patient they'd end up talking a lot about masks…Batman's would come up more often than not but every now and then he'd end up discussing his own…. Or more specifically, the metaphorical one he'd put on every time he picked up a brush and painted himself a new face…..

"Jay, sweetie… you don't have to pretend to be okay… they won't think you're weak or nothin', you know that right?..."

Jay gave her an incredibly tired look before turning away.

"What happened to the Jay that wasn't afraid to let people know how he's feelin' huh? The one that turned every emotion into a show….?"

He kept his head down, shoulders stiff, before speaking...

"....Cause I'm not just sad this time…. " As he looked up slowly an emotion that was rarely seen on the mans face showed itself, flooding his eyes.

"W- when I'd talked to Robin and Batgirl that last time and asked about Batman they gave each other this look and…. Something's wrong… he's in trouble or something I… I can feel it….. W-what if he doesn't come back and he leaves me here all alone an-"

Harley put a polished nail up to Jay's lips and smiled warmly.

"Shhhh…. You're worryin' too much puds… ur big dumb brain is just an overdramatic liar… don't listen to it okay?"

Jay sniffled, giving her an understanding nod.

"You still got me an' your crew an' Bud and all the other little silly things that make ya days good doncha?"

He smiles halfheartedly. "Y-yeah…. But still… he was..."

"I know… he's special….but do you seriously think anything out there could actually kill Batman? THE Batman? C'mon now…. He's luckier than any bastard out there and you know it…"

"Yeah…. Yeah I guess ur right"

"Of COURSE I'm right!… now come on…" she offers her hand and helps her friend stand up. "Let's get that hair done and those nails shined up so you're brain can take a break from making all those nasty thoughts"

Jay smiled a little wider this time, forever grateful he had a friend as great as Harley around… he really didn't know what he'd do without her sometimes...

"Right…. Also… uh…. Harley?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for….uh…. Bein'... around… I guess…" Jay practically mumbled...

Harley smiled knowingly, amused with his poor attempt of gratitude

"No problem, Pud's….." she gave him a peck on the forehead leaving a black smudge behind

"now enough mush...Let's clean this mess and get ya fabbed up"

________________

A few hours later, Jay stood outside the titular iceberg lounge in his best winter fit, a long boa around his shoulders and a pair of unnecessary sunglasses obscuring the mascara he'd only half ruined on the way there….

He truly, honestly, did not feel like socializing with anyone at the moment, but who was he to refuse a doctor's orders?....

Taking a deep breath of the cold winter air, Jay stiffened up, smoothed the wrinkles from his vintage memphis style sweater and entered the lounge, heels high and head high as he could manage

____________

When the doors swung open with a swirl of winter snow, Jay was greeted by a surprisingly full and stunningly silent room. Christmas music cut through the tension like a knife as everyone stopped what they were doing and turned their attention to Joker's fashionably late arrival.

He didn't know if it was because of his natural ability to demand attention or the fact that he hadn't been seen in nearly 3 weeks, but for some reason the room seemed slightly on edge. worried he'd come with another Joker brand surprise perhaps. Thankfully, Harley, who'd left his place a little earlier to get everything ready, noticed who'd finally arrived.

"JJ!! YOU MADE IT!!" she leaped off her stool and came running to grab him, The rest of the room taking it as a cue to un-tense and to go back to their festivities, the lounge lighting up with warm greetings and laughter.

" Hey…" said Jay as Harley put an arm around his shoulder and escorted him to the booth she was sitting at….

"So… is all of this for me or…?"

"No, did she tell you that?" Ivy who was sitting at the booth with his other less than fond acquaintance, Catwoman and someone else he didn't seem to recognize, gave a snide smile, Jay suddenly felt he should probably sit someplace else

"IVY!! SHHH" Harley shushed

"What? He was gonna find out out eventually…. It was supposed to be Penguin's annual winter ball"

"Uh,It still is tho…?" said Kat, mouth full of shrimp

"Well, yah…. Difference is we had to 'finesse' Penguin into letting HIM in" Ivy explained, disdain in her voice

"And you... helped with that?..." asked Jay, surprised. Ivy sighed

"for Harley's sake, yes. not yours"

Jay smiled, amused. "well how charitable of you, here's to hoping you won't regret it"

Ivy rolled her eyes. "As if I don't already" she said, taking a short sip from her drink, Harley sitting down next to her give her thank u peck on the cheek.

"Hey, why'd you get banned from this dump anyway?" Asked Kat, eyes squinting curiously

"I have no idea…." Jay shrugged

"He put a coke and mento bomb in the fountain!" Harley interrupted

"Oh yeah…." He'd totally forgot

"Ha! Awesome…"

"Right uh, anyway, who the hell are you?" Jays attention suddenly turned to the woman sitting opposite of kat. She had light blue skin, bright white eyes and hair that made her look like a human lighting rod.

"Name's Livewire." She said, voice sharp as her appearance

"She's from Metropolis" explained Ivy. Jay rose a brow.

"Metropolis huh?? How'dya like dealin' with boy scout full time over there?" He quizzed

"Sweet!…" she exclaimed enthusiastically "Big blue aint got a thing on me! 'sides, dweeb's been outta town for months now! metropolis might as well be my personal playground"

The mentioning of Superman's absence made something in Jay's chest twist. He'd known their neighbor hero had been MIA for even longer than Batman, Supergirl taking over the workload just like Batgirl had in Gotham. but still… the reminder was enough to worry him. I mean… if superman was taking so much time up there, what chance did Batman have against whatever it was they were so busy with??

Trying his best to shake off the uneasiness building in his stomach Jay took a breath and snapped back to reality, offering Livewire his hand

"Well, uh... Livewire, i'm this city's head honcho while the bat's gone so welcome to Gotham and try not to wear it out"

Harley and Ivy exchanged looks as Jay smiled slyly and took Livewires hand…

...Only for his usual gesture of hospitality to be met with an equally shocking grip that sent blue sparks flying in every direction.

"DAMN, what the- !! " Jay yanked his hand back and held it in pain, hot needles running up his arm.The new addition to Harley's crew laughed crudely and smiled

"why do you think they call me 'LIVEWIRE' genius?"

Jay stayed silent with defeat as the table went up in hysterics "Yeah fine, okay, I shoulda saw that one coming" he sighed and smoothed out his hair which had sprung up to stand on end, his face ever so slightly red "anyway, you ladies have a nice time… i'll set up shop somewhere else and let you guys… idk… flirt with each other or whatever..." without much fanfare he slunk off to sit someplace else.

After the table had settled down completely though, Harley noticed Jay making his way to the bar looking somewhat dejected.

"Aw Jay…."

The rest curiously turned their attention to the direction of Harley's gaze.

"You're not going after him are you?" Asked Ivy after a beat.

"Well… yeah…?" Harley shrugged.

"Uhm, why?" Asked kat, dipping more shrimp into her cocktail "like if he's not in the mood for a joke that's kinda his problem…?"

"Yeah, but still…. I've never seen 'im like this for so long…. He's usually so funny and animated, it's like somethin' drained all the life out of 'im…." The concern on Harley's face was very apparent. Ivy brushed back a few strands of her hair and tried her best to reassure her.

"Look i'm sure he'll get his second wind when Batman comes back at some point… but ‘til then it's not your job to take care of him…"

Harley sighed silently. "I know but… he's still my best friend… and if I hadn't met him, I wouldn'ta met you!" She squished close to her spouse with a smile, Ivy suddenly unable to hold back a small one herself.

"He helped me outta my slump all those years ago, least I can do is help 'im outta his..."

Ivy gave her a soft look before reluctantly caving "Kindness has always been your best and worst trait, silly bee…" she said with a smirk "fine, go ahead and do your thing, I've got plenty of company over here in the meantime…"

Harley smiled happily and gave her one last kiss before running off to join Jay at the bar.

____________

Jay sat alone at the bar in silence until he was suddenly startled by Harley's arrival.

"What's shakin' grumpy gills?" She asked pulling up a stool.

Jay didn't answer as the bartender slid over a funfetti martini topped with the works, Jay lazily catching it and drinking deeply.

"Those guys didn't get ta ya did they? I know they seem mean bu- "

"Ah… I don't care about them…" said Jay dismissively "we're all villains here right? I'm sure they got their reasons… sides, Livewire's pretty fun even if she did fry my Joy buzzer" He said regretfully…

"So what's up then…?" Asked Harley, head tilted

Jay looked down at the table with a frown, fingers anxiously scraping the side of the glass in his hand….

"What she'd said about metropolis…. And… superman…."

"Oh…" Harley nodded "well…. I'm sure they're together wherever they are…. Right? Him and Batman? And I mean, with Superman around, he's bound to be okay….."

Jay had a hard time matching her enthusiasm but that logic did comfort him some. "Yeah… yeah I guess so"

"C'mon Jay, you gotta get that stuff off your mind for a minute! Go mingle! Go dance!… look at everyone who came this time! Turn-out's never been so big!"

As Jay's looked around the room, Harley did have a point, usually these get-togethers only managed to scrounge up about half the gang, but it looked like almost all the rogues in town had come this time. Even D-listers like Polkadot man, Killer Moth, Crazy Quilt ect. Had managed to show up, plus people he didn't seem to recognize…

For example at the bar sat Scarecrow and a… Oddly scruffy looking man he looked to be sharing a drink with. He'd heard from Riddler over the phone some time ago that crow had found himself a friend and that the two were "in cahoots". whatever that was supposed to mean. He supposed that must've been the "friend" in question…

A few tables down sat another unfamiliar in a polkadot shirt and a pair of cracked thick lensed glasses. He had a peculiar looking puppet sitting on his lap which made J raise a brow, but he didn't judge. Looking at his woefully nervous face he guessed it must it must've been a security thing anyway…

Despite the big crowd though, Jay did notice one person missing of whom he hadn't seen in quite a while...

"Yeah I guess everyone is here... except uh, Lex I guess…?" Jay considered himself friends with metropolises king of corruption, even if the feeling wasn't always mutual. Seeing so many crooks he knew in one place made him realize how rare it was to see the mal hearted mogul at these things.

Unfortunately, Harley could only shrug with defeat. "Ah I tried to get Lex but you know how he is… nobody's seen that shut in for ages".

Jay's eyes narrowed at that "How long is ages…. ?" He pressed

"I dunno… a few months guess??? Livewire said he's been quiet lately, probably off in one of his labs making some over convoluted instrument of destruction I guess"

The growing list of missing big shots was beginning to piece something together in Jay's head… what on earth was Lex up to? Where was superman?? Why did the league need Batman's help? How did it all connect?? After a moment Harley noticed Jay slipping into his thoughts again and shook his shoulder lightly to pull him out of it.

"Hey, don't worry about that egghead. he'd only kill the mood if he were here anyway"

Jay couldn't disagree, the billionaire was kind of notorious for being a giant stick in the mud.

"If you're really worried about what's goin' on with those guys, you can come up with a plan Tomorrow…. right now we got a' open dance floor, unlimited drinks and a Karaoke competition that's about ta kick off in ten"

The word 'Karaoke' was enough to snap Jay back to reality. "Did you say Karaoke?"

"Yes, I did."

"Do they hav-"

"Yes, they have Queen"

Jay nearly looked as if someone had told him the best news of his life. "Oh thank god" maybe Harley was right. Worrying would have to wait.

_____________

The rest of the night went on with few hang ups. Drinks poured, music played and poorly screeched lyrics kept the mood upbeat.

The Karaoke stage hosted performance after performance, some more enthusiastic than others. Some painful, others surprisingly pleasant. Jay's teetered off the edge of both categories, but when "somebody to love" burst through those speakers, he'd sung it with his whole chest. The best performance by a long shot though had to be Ivy's who's affinity for 50's ballads lent to her beautifully rich voice and her's was closely followed by the Dent's who'd decided to attempt a duet with no chorus which everyone found somewhat impressive.

Emotions did flare up once or twice though, as they tend to do when it comes to villain gatherings. Ed and Jay got into a fight about something stupid and unimportant, both obviously enjoying themselves, Bane and Croc engaged in an arm wrestle that woefully ended in a tie, and Jay inevitably got worked up about Batman again, this time with a crowd of eager listeners somewhat entertained by his rambling, giving questionable advice here and there.

At the get-together's height, the dance floor had filled to the point where Penguin was just about ready to call the whole event off until Riddler dragged him on to the floor himself.

After another hour or so the party wound down some more and the night devolved into quiet discussions between friends, everyone either ready to leave or half asleep. Eventually Jay and Two-face of all people were left alone. Once Ed, Crow, Hatter and the rest had gone home.

Jay always liked Harv, for someone known for his temper he seemed to have a lot of patience and Jay found both of his selves uniquely interesting in their own ways. Harvey the "handsome" one was always very nice, easily flustered, and had a sadness in his eyes that was hard to ignore. "Dent", the one famous for all those 2 themed crimes, was a bold individual and one of the most brutally honest people he knew. That night though, even he seemed a little sad. He admitted later that it was because it'd been a while since he'd gotten to talk to his old pal Bruce, someone Jay was mildly familiar with of course, and they spent the rest of the night discussing Batman and wayne and how they seemed so similar until it really was time to head home.

sometime after midnight, long after everyone had either left or found someplace to pass out, Harley broke up with her girl gang again to come get Jay who'd fallen asleep in an empty booth.

"Wake up clown" she said loudly, nudging him a bit. Jay giggled quietly in response, turning over after a moment and opening his eyes.

"Oohh what's up??"

"Time to go."

"Aw…" Jay huffed disappointedly, then did his best to sit up straight, his head slowly spinning as he did so "ah jeeze…"

"Don't worry I called one of your guys, he's waiting outside." She explained "I dragged you here, might as well drag you home"

"You did that for me?" Jay smiled "That's so nice…."

"Mhm" carefully, she took his hand got him to his feet, doing her best to keep him up straight. As they headed out they met up with Ivy at the door

"Taking pennywise home?" She asked

"It'll only take a minute" Harley assured

"Alright… don't take too long…" she turned to leave but before she could, Jay suddenly spoke up.

"H-hey, Wait!"

Ivy turned around, brow raised "You have something to say to me?"

"Uh… yeah? I mean… sort of? I just, uh… wanted to say i'm sorry for… messing up your garden all those times…."

Ivy blinked "Why are you telling me this now?"

"I just thought you shud kno…. And that um…. Maybe you'd hate me…. A little less... if I said sorry for once..." the frown on Jays face was absolutely pitiful, Ivy could only roll her eyes.

"I don't hate you… Joker"

"Oh?"

"I just think you're annoying…."

"Oh…." Jay couldn't really tell if that was any better but at the moment he was too drunk to care. "Okay…"

With that ivy turned around to join Kat and Livewire

"Thanks for the apology though I suppose…Take care of yourself…. And, Harley don't take too long… it's only 1:00am we still have plans."

"Don't worry Ive's i'll catch up."

after one last look, Ivy went back on her way and Harley continued walking J to his car.

As they went Jay hummed to himself, swaying slightly, until a certain thought made him go quiet again.

"....Harley….?" He asked suddenly.

"Yeah, J?"

"Am I a bad friend?" The question just as out of the blue as his apology to Ivy….

Harley looked at him, concerned "Why do ya ask?"

"I just…. Please?" He pleaded. Harley hesitated for a long moment but decided being honest was probably best.

" not exactly but… maybe sometimes"

"Hm…" Jay decided he'd have to work on that

"But I also know ya don't really wanna hurt anybody…. That you try your best everyday ta make people happy and that you've been through just as much any of us…. A few mean comments an' dumb pranks ain't gonna make anybody think you're the devil or somethin'….not me or any of the other guys... "

Jay had to smile at that, Harley always had something smart or nice to say no matter what. still, her answer only made him feel worse about how he'd been earlier when she was just trying to help… he really, honestly, didn't deserve her…. But the least he could do was let her know he was glad to have her...

"Harley…?"

"Yeah, J…"

"Thanks for being really, really great all the time… and… y'know… around… " Harley smiled as she secured his arm around her shoulders.

"Thanks J..."

"also sorry for sucking sometimes..."

She sighed. "It's fine Jay…."

carefully, she hauled his ragdolling body a few more feet and shoved him into the back seat of his car. J grunting as his head hit the leather seat.

"Now go home an' try not to get lost on your way to the door" She said sternly. Jay gave her a lazy wink and a pair of wobbly finger guns.

"Gotcha."

with that,Harley slammed the door shut and the J-Mobile's engine roared to life. One his lackeys sitting in the driver's seat.

"Where to boss? HQ?"

"Yup… ah, sorry t' call ya out so late…"

"S'alright boss…. Don't worry about it"

As the car lurched forward, street lights shining in through the windows as snow fell ever so lightly over Gotham like a dusting of fresh powdered sugar, Jay did inevitably start thinking about Batman again, wondering when he'd come back, desperately wishing he knew anything about where he was right now….

The thoughts were hard to ignore and when he got home he knew he'd be surrounded by the same walls he'd spent the last month trapped with them in…. even so, the world felt a little less washed out than it had before he left, and it wasn't just because of the alcohol swirling in his blood.

He may not have had Batman... But today reminded him he wasn't alone.

He had friends… real friends… In a way he'd always considered them such… but deep down there was always doubt. I mean sure he got along better with some than others, but after knowing people so long he shouldn't have been so dumb to think they hated him as much as he thought they did.

When you're a villain in Gotham sometimes all you have are other weirdos in the same boat as you to help keep you and everyone else afloat. People need people in more ways than one… and as Jay drifted off to sleep in the back of his gaudy getaway vehicle, laying in a position that was just barely comfortable, he pushed his worries aside and made sure that was something he'd never let himself forget.

~ End ~

#batman #dc comics #the joker #harley Quinn #lego batman #christmas #blogged

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yikesharringrove · 4 years

Note

Forced To Confront Feelings: Steve and Billy are enemies with benefits, and in true angst fashion Steve’s touch-starved need to connect to someone ends up on Billy but he doesn’t dare say a word of it. Once he does, he knows Billy will leave and not come back. It comes to a head when Steve is majorly ill one day but is still forced to take the kids to the pool, as Billy picked up an earlier shift. (1/2)

(2/2) He’s in a bad mood and Steve doesn’t wanna make it worse so he does what he’s asked (told), but the heat of the day and his exhausted body meet head to head, and he passes out and falls in the pool. Billy’s gonna have to face up to what he’s been desperately trying to squash when he rescues Steve and sees he’s hit his head and isn’t breathing.

There’s some smut mentions, but nothing outright

Read on Ao3

Billy rolled off of Steve, left him panting and tired, laying in his own cum and sweat.

Billy patted him once on the thigh, getting up to get dressed, to leave.

That’s how it always went. Billy fucked him good and hard, and then left before Steve could even say goodbye.

At it was fine.

It was.

They weren’t together, weren’t even friends, really.

Steve was just being a baby, just being needy and clingy, everything Nancy always said was so bothersome, Steve.

He watched Billy get dressed, biting his tongue every time he wanted to ask Billy to stay, to spend the night and hold him.

But Billy was already stomping down the stairs.

So Steve rolled over and tried to imagine strong arms around his waist.

He could feel the illness coming for days before it actually hit.

His throat was sore every morning, and his cough was dry, made him hack for days.

He was curled up in bed, had a heating pad on his aching stomach, the trash can close to his bed just in case.

He absolutely fucking longed to have someone there, to have Billy there, bringing him hot soup and pressing a cool wash cloth to his head.

He was running a mild fever when the kids showed up, begged him to bring them to the pool.

He rolled his carcass out of bed, shoving himself into the first swim trunks he could find, the only shirt he saw.

Dustin raised one eyebrow at him when he tromped downstairs, but he didn’t care, just drove the little shits to the pool.

It was fucking hot today, and Steve felt fucking delirious sitting in the heat.

He was in the bathroom, his head pressed against one of the lockers, the cool metal.

“You’re on my locker, dipshit.” He stood up slowly, blinking at Billy.

“Sorry, Bill.” Billy furrowed his brows.

“You look like shit.” Steve smiled wearily at him.

“You gonna take care a’ me?”

“Fuck no, Harrington. Fuckin’, get outta here.” He shoved Steve aside, made him stumble a little.

Steve pouted, still leaned against the lockers.

Billy just shook his head, started changing into his lifeguard uniform. Steve jsut watched him.

Billy looked up at him slowly.

“Harrington, get out. Fuckin’ perv.” Billy shoved him again, made him slam into the lockers. His head spun.

He stumbled out of the locker room, the sun beaming into his eyes, making him dizzy.

He closed his eye, squatting down where he stood, pressing the heels of each hand into his eye sockets.

He took some deep breaths, trying to get the world to stop spinning. When he thought it was safe, he stood back up.

His vision went dark.

Billy was just stepping out of the locker room, unlit cigarette in his mouth when he saw Harrington stand up.

It was almost comical, the way his body just went down, like someone had cut the strings off a marionette.

But then Steve wasn’t surfacing, had sunk right to the bottom.

Billy scrambled to blow his whistle, throwing caution to the wind and sprinting forward, diving into the water.

He grabbed Steve around the middle, swimming up with him.

Billy’s blood was rushing in his ears.

Freddy was there, helped Billy pull Steve out of the pool.

Steve was just laying there.

And then Billy noticed the blood.

A gash on the side of Steve’s head was bleeding, the blood mixing with water, made it look like there was so much.

He tugged off his wet shirt, pressing it to the wound, staunching the blood as best as he could.

And then Billy checked over him.

And Steve wasn’t breathing.

Billy yelled for someone to call an ambulance, vague heard Heather yell back through the blood rushing in his ears.

He tilted Steve’s head back.

Okay, okay. You can do this. Chest compressions. Just like in training.

He tried to be methodical, tried not to think about how it was Steve under his hands.

He breathed into his mouth.

Steve’s lips were chapped, already fucking cold.

He started compressions again.

A crowd had gathered now, Steve’s kids all front row, all of them had a hand on the curly one, he was crying, his hands shaking.

Billy kept pushing on his chest, counting each compression.

One of Steve’s ribs gave way with a crack. The crowd around them gasped.

Billy gave him another few breaths.

He couldn’t think about their last interaction, how he had pushed Steve away. Couldn’t think about the last time he was at Steve’s house, the way Steve had looked at him, so soft and pretty and asked you wanna stay? We can go again. And Billy had laughed at him, called him a pussy.

He gave him more breaths.

And Steve coughed, spluttering.

Billy rolled him onto his side.

He was coughing, water coming out of his mouth.

Billy patted him on the back as everyone fucking clapped. Billy ground his jaw.

Steve was taking shaky breaths now.

The paramedics had arrived, pushing through the pool gates.

They got Steve onto a gurney.

“I, uh, I think I broke a rib during compressions.” Billy was following behind them, Steve’s kids following him like little ducklings.

“That’s okay. Better a broken rib and a breathing person.”

“He just passed out. I think he’s sick.” The loaded Steve up in the ambulance.

His eyes were wide, he looked panicked, staring at Billy, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Can I come with him?” One of the paramedics just nodded, Billy leapt into the ambulance, held Steve’s hand on the way to the hospital.

“You don’t have to stay.” They were in the E.R., waiting for a doctor to come back with the scans of Steve’s chest. They had already stitched up his head.

“Got nothin’ else to do.”

“You just, you don’t gotta take care a’ me.”

Billy dropped his head into his hands.

“Shoudn’ta said all that.”

“It’s fine, Billy. We’re not friends. You don’t owe me shit.”

“Honestly, I think I owe you an apology.” Steve shrugged. “Been treatin’ you like shit for a while now.”

“Look, I had no illusions about what we are to each other.” Billy sat back in his chair, glaring at Steve.

“That’s a lie.”

“No, it’s not. I knew we were nothing more than two people who fuck sometimes.”

“Maybe, but you wanted more.” And Steve’s cheeks went bright fucking red. “I could fucking see it. Just, the way you fuckin’ look at me, man. It was terrifying.” Steve ground his jaw.

“Terrifying?”

“You’re in love with me. Don’t know when, or why, frankly, but you are. And those fuckin’ big eyes a’ yours pretty much show every emotion you feel. So we’re fucking, and I pull outta you, and you give me this look, like you’ve never been happier, like you’re so in love, and Stevie I can’t take that shit.”

Steve’s mouth was hanging open.

“I guess I’ll stop then?” He spoke slowly.

“No, I- shit, I’m not sayin’ any of this right.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “I was so scared because I’m not allowed to love you back.”

“But you do?” Steve was still talking all slow. Billy looked at his shoes, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh my God, you big baby. You’re allowed to have feelings and emotions.”

“Not in my house.” Steve just stared at him. Billy sighed. “My dad would, would fuckin’ kill me if he found out. And I’m not just being dramatic. He doesn’t take nice to queers.”

“Who says he has to know?” Billy huffed a laugh.

“He always knows. Has ways of findin’ out all sorts a’ shit.”

“We’ve made it this far without him knowing.”

“Yeah, ‘cause he thought I was out fuckin’ every girl in town. He’d rather have a slut for a son than a homo.”

“Tell him you’ve got a girlfriend, then.”

“He’ll wanna meet her.”

“Then get some girl to cover for you. Get Heather or Robin or someone.” Billy chewed on his bottom lip.

“You think one of them would do it?”

“Oh yeah. I mean, Robin hates you on principle, which, sorry about that, but she’d probably do it if you change your ways or something.”

“Yeah? What’s that entail.”

“Don’t give me shit to complain about. She’s my go to when I would be all mopey about you, so if I start bein’ all excited about you, she’d notice.”

“What if she just hates me?”

“Nah. You two would get along great. Her favorite pass time is making fun of me.”

“Okay, but that’s the main pass time of everyone that’s ever met you.

“Hey. Aren’t you supposed to be nice to me now? Now that we’re all in love.” He grinned as Billy flushed.

“Never gonna be nice to you if you rub that shit in my face.”

“Oh please. You broke my fucking rib trying to save my life. Don’t act like you don’t love me.”

“You never thanked me for that shit.”

“Figured I would thank you when I got out of the hospital.” He smiled all coy, biting his bottom lip just a little.

“What you got in mind?”

“Remember like, three weeks ago, when you asked for that thing, and I said over my dead body? Well since I was almost a dead body, figured you could have this one.” Billy’s eyes went wide.

“You’re really gonna let me? Fuck you in you dad’s office?” Billy had stumbled into the room accidentally, kept saying please, Harrington? Just lemme take you on this fuckin’ desk.

“Oh, yeah.”

“That what I get for bein’ your boyfriend, or whatever?” Steve looked down at the thin blanket covering his legs.

“Depends. Are you my boyfriend?

“You want me to be?” Steve nodded, still looking at his lap. “Then, sure. I am.”

And when Steve smiled at him, it was bright as the fucking sun.

#yikes writes #steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #harringrove #harringrove fic #harringrove ficlet #harringrove drabble

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shiftytracts · 3 years

Text

a woman in a buttoned cardigan over a loose dress containing a bloated, gurgling belly she’s proud of—not outright flaunting, but not hiding either, as she sort of enjoys the prospect of someone noticing it and finding it as funny-looking as she does. she’s at some kind of social event, for her work or for a hobby or maybe someone’s birthday party. there are whole tables of snacks here—mostly sweets. and she’s got kind of a reputation as a connoisseur (maybe her career or side hustle involves baking or judging food), so everyone wants her opinion on whichever snack they made. she loves getting to flatter people, and loves being flattered in this way too.

so she has had a lot of sweets, in the last half hour, or hour, or two hours, or however long it’s been since she got here; she tends to lose track of time in these situations, especially when she’s also had a drink or two. so many sweets her stomach feels all rumbly and kinda sour. she wishes there were more places to sit down; everywhere’s taken right now. she informs her boyfriend of all this when he arrives and asks her how the party’s going. “good,” she says, and half-heartedly stifles burps all through her report of what her friends here are up to. “also i’ve had many good snacks,” she admits, pressing her boyfriend’s hands to her swollen, noisy belly one by one with her free hand, so as to acknowledge the fetal elephant in the room. (the other hand holds a large cookie, which slowly drips powdered sugar on her cardigan and dress.)

“i can tell,” her boyfriend laughs.

she puts the whole cookie in her mouth to hold onto it with her teeth, briefly (and insufficiently) brushes off her hands, and directs his hands in circles around her stomach, unwittingly smearing powdered sugar into her clothes. “sooo many sweets.” a big burp surprises her. reflexively she bites the cookie, and catches the part of it that lops off in her hand. “too many sweets, probably; my tummy’s getting kinda frazzled i think,” she laughs. “ugh—i still want so many more though. i could eat so many more if i had some real food first,” she muses.

“so you’re saying you’re hungry?” he asks; she smiles confirmation, a little embarrassed. they talk each other into the idea of purchasing lunch across the street, then coming back. brb! me and [boyfriend] are gonna get some chipotle, she texts the host (or the friend she came with, or whoever seems most relevant).

she holds her belly through her sweater pockets all the way over, and in the line, and while she orders, rocking back and forth on her heels. after her burrito and diet lemonade she feels pleasantly full and warm, and comparatively sober. “hmm, that felt good,” she says after a string of stifled burps, leaning back against the bench and setting her hands in her pockets again; “this was—such a good idea.”

“ready to head back?”

“almost. just give me a minute to settle.”

her cardigan’s a bit too tight now, they notice when they stand back up: her dress pokes through the gaps between the buttons. she laughs and unbuttons it, stroking the area self-consciously. and on the walk back she twice exhorts her boyfriend to slow down, when she loses her breath or gets a stitch in her side.

her stomach’s been quiet for a bit, but has just started burbling again (softly, busily, not uncomfortably) when they arrive back at the party. the snacks have depleted visibly in her absence, she notes with dismay. she heads straight for the brownies, to make sure she gets at least one more before they’re gone. while there she runs into a friend, and the two of them end up standing there chatting as she absent-mindedly eats all the brownies left. she only notices when her friend says, “good brownies?” and she exhorts them to try one—only to look down and see only crumbs left.

“oops,” she says, and pats her belly, which whines as if on cue. she discovers that it aches a little, and drags her fingers back and forth across its top.

“you must be thirsty, after all that,” the friend suggests.

she says, “yeah, now you mention it,” and they wander off for more drinks.

once she’s buzzed, of course, she barely notices the fullness, and goes on grazing until everything she likes is gone—then makes herself nibble the snacks she doesn’t like, so as not to seem too biased. when she’s bit off all she can make herself chew of something very crunchy and sticky, and so sweet that it makes her guts swirl and twist with irritation, she gets another drink and resolves to find a seat, no matter in how inconvenient a location. feeling too muddled to enjoy noise and conversation anyway, she ends up wandering outside and falling asleep in a rocking lawn chair. who knows how long later, she wakes up needing the toilet; with that accomplished she heads back to her lawn chair and dips in and out of sleep for a while longer, hands on her belly through the pockets of her now-open cardigan.

finally her boyfriend wakes her up so they can go home. “hey. how you doing?”

“hmmrgh.” she burps. “sleepy.” curls a hand more tightly around her stomach as its quease slowly wakes back to life; the motion frees another burp. this one hurts her throat a little. “mmf. don’t feel good.”

“ate too much?”

“mhm.” she hunches further over her stomach.

“do you need a toilet, or a bucket, or anything?”

she shakes her head: “i’m ok.”

“ready to go home?”

she sighs; she’s ready to be home, but hates the idea of having to get up and walk to the car and say her goodbyes, and then sit in the cold car and get jostled by speed bumps and potholes all the way home. but she nods anyway.

“need me to help you up?”

“mhm.”

once she’s upright he stands before her and cradles her stomach in his hands. waits for her to come to herself as she groans and blinks her eyes used to the light. between the space all this food takes up inside her and the hiccups that interrupt her every other inhale, her breath runs uncomfortably short. her limbs ache as if she’d been running too long. exhausted by this, she leans way forward into her boyfriend’s hands. this calls forth a very long, loud belch that catches them both by surprise.

“feel better?”

“yeah.”

they amble to the car with his arm wrapped around her. the people they pass on the way there he tells goodbye for the both of them, while she blinks at the floor and burps into her closed mouth.

the car ride isn’t so bad; she ends up falling asleep, even though it’s only like fifteen minutes. she wakes up to him opening the car door for her, offering a hand to help her up. “so sleepy,” she laments, clearly angling for something. he carries her to their bed, having expected this response. brings her water, antacids, a bucket, and a hot water bottle while she falls asleep in her clothes on top of their still-made bed. not much later, when he comes to bed, that wakes her up, and she stays awake longer this time as she ponders whether she needs the toilet. decides in the affirmative, and spends so long in there, between actual business and how lazy all this food makes her feel, that eventually a knock on the door startles her awake.

“are you ok? can i come in?”

“yeah,” she says, to both questions.

he finds her bent double over herself, arms trapped between her thighs and belly. “oof. you look like you don’t feel good.”

“my tummy hurts,” she admits. “i’m ok, though. just bein slow.”

he helps her up, and massages her still-rumbling stomach from behind while she washes her hands and brushes her teeth. “still so big,” he observes.

she says “mhm,” through a mouthful of toothpaste, with a smile that the white foam dribble makes look pretty stupid. her nostrils flare in a slight laugh at the sight of her face in the mirror. she burps, and spits the toothpaste out real quick to keep from swallowing it. he mistakes her haste for alarm, for a sign of imminent puke:

“hey, shh, it’s ok, let it out.”

she shakes her head: “i’m ok. just almost swallowed my toothpaste.”

they head back to bed; he refills the hot-water bottle for her, but by the time he gets back she’s asleep again.

in the morning she sleeps in til almost noon. wakes up still bloated, still burping, belly still gurgling, but feeling pretty ok: lazy, delicate, but not sick or in pain, aside from the occasional boomerangs that signal an impending dump. she lies on her back for a while, blinking and rubbing her stomach; takes a long shower, where she soaps that area rather more than necessary, and burps without restraint, one long belch after another; enters the living room in a big sweatshirt and underwear and socks, burping carelessly as she greets him and stretching her arms above her head so that a sliver of bloated gut is briefly visible. as she returns to her original position she yawns, blinks, and slips her hands under the sweatshirt to rub the cramps out of her belly that the stretch created. they discuss their respective plans for the day as she stands there, rubbing and burping.

“how’s your tummy?”

“pretty good.”

“think you can handle a little breakfast?”

she pats her stomach, burps again, and smiles. “i can do a normal-size breakfast.”

and indeed she can: she eats precisely the usual amount of cereal and toast, at the same pace and with the same affect as always. only afterward she does lean back in her chair with an “ooh,” and place her hands on her bloated stomach.

“too much?”

she shrugs, not sure yet. “can you hear it rumbling?”

“yeah,” he laughs. he asks, “need help getting to the bathroom?”—but she’s already leisurely pushing in her chair.

she pats her belly with first one hand, then the other. “nah, i’m good.”

it takes her a while in there—he surmises she might have a nap on the bed afterwards. the next time he encounters her, she walks up behind him while he sits at his desk, presses her belly against his upper back, puts her hands on his shoulders, kisses the top of his head. feels like she’s still a little bloated, to the extent he can judge; also he hears her burp a little from the contact. but she sounds like she feels well again. “thank you for taking such good care of me.”

#stuffing #this is not a real enough story to merit capital letters #not even A or B lmao #a shifty tract

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devildompotato · 3 years

Text

Deep Freeze

*A/N- I may have shared this from my other blog when I originally posted this, as it was for a SFW gift exchange and I didn’t want this blog getting attached to that and maybe bringing minors to me. So if you’ve seen it before, that could be why. I’m not tagging the recipient or the exchange, since that has all been said and done. I felt like a month has been enough time for me to post it on my main OM blog- this one! So here you go!*

Slight T rating, for innuendo. Mammon/GN!MC Lucifer/GN!MC Angst, Unrequited Love

Mammon watched you with a small smile, amused at how delighted you were by the snow. You looked so cute all bundled up in your coat and hat, grin as bright and sparkling as the sunlight glittering in the snow. He started to get up from where he was perched on a stump when he saw you fall flat on your face, breaking into laughter instead when you sat up and howled with laughter at your own clumsiness. This trip to the human world had been a fantastic suggestion. He hadn’t seen you look so carefree and exhilarated in quite some time.Letting your good humor pull him in, he began walking toward you, intent on joining you in your snowball fight against his brothers. Before he got close enough for you to see, Lucifer appeared, seemingly from nowhere. Extending his hand to you, he smoothly pulled you up and into his arms, murmuring something with a small, soft smile. Mammon had thought your face was red from the cold but it was nothing compared to the blush that bloomed on your cheeks with a shy little grin at whatever Lucifer had whispered in your ear. Watching as you grasped his brother’s coat to stretch up and meet his kiss caused an ache in his chest that Mammon hadn’t felt in millennia. Turning away, he swiftly made his escape on silent feet. He felt nauseous at the sight he’d just witnessed. Seeing Lucifer in such a soft moment left him feeling dirty somehow, but that wasn’t what was making him breathless. He should have known you’d choose his brother. Perfect, smooth-talking Lucifer, always ready with his low voice and poetic words, carefully curated to get exactly the reaction he wanted. Of course you’d choose him over the hyperactive, immature Avatar of Greed. Mammon knew he was exactly the opposite in every way. There was nothing suave about him; he tripped over his words, overwhelmed by his feelings for you and pushing you away instead.

He knelt in the snow desperately gasping for air. Somehow this managed to feel like losing Lilith again, in a completely new way. He had grieved his sister, knowing he would never see her again. But you… you were right there. He’d have to see you every day, watch the soft smiles and lovesick looks directed at his brother when it should have been him. The very thought of it left an unbearably heavy weight in his chest. He sniffed, trying to hold back the tears burning his eyes. His jeans were uncomfortably cold and wet from kneeling in the snow, but he couldn’t seem to care. The roar in his head seemed to calm just in time for him to hear the soft shuffle of feet in the snow. Desperate to hide his heartbreak, he quickly wiped some snow on his face. Hopefully, that would explain the evidence of his tears. His heart dropped just that much more when he heard your voice behind him. “Mammoney?” Please don’t call me that. Don’t use endearments when you’ll never be mine.

“What are you doing here all alone, Mammon?” Of course Lucifer would be with you. He just couldn’t catch a break, could he?

“Thinkin’.”

“That’s a new endeavor for you. How is it working out? Have you hurt yourself yet?” Mammon plastered a smile on his face and turned around just in time to see you gently smack Lucifer’s chest with the back of your hand. “Be nice, Lucifer. Mammon isn’t stupid, no matter what you say.”

His heart swelled at your defense of him, but he simply couldn’t agree. Clearly, he was the biggest idiot of them all to fall in love with you, let alone hope you could love him back. Still, he forced out a cocky laugh. “That’s right, human. They don’t call me the GREAT Mammon for nothing, ya know!” “Mammon, literally no one calls you that,” muttered Lucifer. “Shows what you know,” he quipped back. His brother merely rolled his eyes at him. “So, what are you two doing here? Looking for a bit of ‘alone time’?” He made sure to throw in a leer to make his meaning clear. If they thought he was joking, maybe they wouldn’t see his shattered heart. The flush on both of your faces told him he’d hit the nail on the head, and he suddenly wanted to be sick. “I missed you Mammoney. I was just trying to find you,” came your quiet voice.

“Ah, well, you found me! I’m just fine, as you can see. So I’ll just leave you two alone.” He noticed your hand reach for him as he turned on his heel and darted away as casually as he could, but he simply pretended he’d hadn’t seen. You’d just straight up lied to his face. Your musical voice followed him, calling him back to you. He felt like an ass, but he couldn’t face you just then. Maybe not for 100 years. Maybe never. All he knew was that he needed to get away. He turned in the direction of his brothers just in time to see Lucifer pulling you the opposite way, behind a small copse of trees. He was lost in his misery as he walked, causing him to be completely surprised when a snowball exploded on his face. “Haha yes!!!” Levi whooped triumphantly. “Once more my tactical genius has led me to a most satisfying victory! All hail King Leviathan!”“Why do ya always talk so funny when you’re playin’ games, huh?” Mammon sputtered through the snow. “I do it because it is the only proper way to celebrate defeating my foe!” “I’ll show you foe,” growled Mammon, bending down to scoop up some snow and preparing to return fire. He lined up his shot, wound up his arm, and got beaned on the back of the head with a snowball just as he let go, missing Levi completely. “Direct hit! Wonderful shot, Satan!” crowed Asmo. He was sat on a large stone, refusing to get involved with the fight and risk ruining his expensive coat, so he claimed. When Mammon turned to his assailant, Satan was bowing to his audience of one. “Thank you, Asmo. But it isn’t hard to miss a head that big.” Asmo’s gleeful shout of laughter was cut short by Mammon’s snowball. “I’m a pretty good shot when I’m not bein’ sabotaged ya know! And ya aren’t even movin’!” His younger brother’s beautiful face was marred with fury, but Mammon had accomplished his goal and made Asmo get involved in the game. For a short, blissful time, his heartache was a dull throb as he and his brothers chased each other around, pelting one another with snowball after snowball. Their shouts of laughter and mock anger filled the little area of the forest they’d trekked to and for a moment Mammon felt like life was normal. Until you and Lucifer rejoined the group with messy hair and disheveled clothing. “Oh ho! Having fun in the snow, I see! How positively naughty of you!” teased Asmo. “That’s disgusting,” muttered Belphie. “No one wants to think of Lucifer that way.” “Oh I do it often,” purred the Avatar of Lust. “If you could please cease this inane conversation, we should probably head back to the cabin.” Lucifer sighed. The group set out for their warm shelter while Mammon silently seethed at the sight of you and Lucifer walking with your arms casually slung around each other. Your sweet laughter floated back to him, making his heart clench. He had a feeling this pain was going to get worse before it got better, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to hide it. You would try to comfort him if you found out, which would be the very last thing he would want when you were out of reach. Lucifer would reach as yet unheard-of levels of smugness that Mammon was sure would mean the two of them coming to blows. As the cabin came into view, you fell back to walk with him. “What’s wrong, Mammoney? You’re awfully quiet, and that concerns me.” “It shouldn’t, it’s a nice change of pace and we don’t want to ruin it!” snapped Belphie. Mammon felt his face burning before he curtly replied, “It’s fine. I’m just tired.”

“Poor thing. Maybe you should take a nap before dinner? You can use my room, it’s the quietest.” He couldn’t help the small smile that graced his features. You were always so sweet, so selfless. Too good for him, to be sure. “Thanks, maybe I will.” You reached down and gave his hand a squeeze before heading back to Lucifer’s side. As the 8 of you entered the cabin, there was a flurry of boots and coats being tossed around, and the stern voice of Lucifer reminding everyone to take care of their wet outerwear instead of simply throwing it in the corner. It proved to be the perfect distraction and allowed Mammon to sneak away unnoticed. Well, mostly unnoticed. You followed him to your room, concern still etched on your face. “I promise I’m fine. I just need a little bit of rest, that’s all.” He said.

“If you’re sure…” “Positive.” “Okay, well I guess I’ll leave you to it. Have a good nap.” “Thanks. Goodbye.” A startled, slightly frightened expression crossed your face. “Goodbye? What does that mean?” “Slip of the tongue. I meant to say good night.” “Uh huh…” He knew you didn’t believe him but he climbed into your bed and ignored the way you stared. After a moment you left, leaving him to enjoy being surrounded by your scent. Just for a little while, he told himself. He had no idea how long he’d been lying there before you came to check on him, but he quickly tried to look relaxed and deeply asleep. It must have worked since you silently snuck in and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek before tiptoeing back out. He heard you tell someone you were going to let him rest a while longer and soon the faint sounds of his brothers sitting down to dinner floated up to him. Perfect, he thought. Throwing the covers off, he left your room as quietly as you had, sneaking down the hall to the room he was sharing with Asmo. Fortunately, he hadn’t unpacked much so it was easier to get everything back into his duffel bag. He’d just leave his coat and boots behind. He might be uncomfortable, but he wouldn’t be particularly cold or in any danger the same way a human would if he traveled in regular clothes. He dropped his bag from the window, waiting for a moment in case anyone had heard. The cacophony of voices and laughter continued without so much as a brief pause. He hadn’t known when he got here that having a room on the opposite side of the house than the kitchen would be so advantageous. At least he had that tiny bit of luck. He jumped out of the window, grateful that the snow was cushioning his landing a bit. It may be easier for him to jump from the second story without breaking bones than it would be for a human, but that didn’t mean it was pleasant. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he jogged towards the nearby town. It wasn’t long before he heard you shouting his name from the cabin. The voices of his brothers followed shortly, but they quickly grew faint and faded away. He ached at the thought of you worrying about him, but he figured his brothers would be ecstatic to be without him. He knew they would help you forget about him, Lucifer especially. No one would miss the scummy idiot, right? Eventually, he came upon a highway and stuck out his thumb. One last thought of you passed through his mind, but he pushed it away so that he wouldn’t lose his nerve. It wasn’t like he was leaving forever. He just needed to let his heart freeze first.

#mammon #angst #obey me mammon #obey me fanfic #obey me gender neutral mc #gn mc #feels trip

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