The Orchard
A gift for my sweet, darling @vampirekilmer...
Price has had enough of your bratty behavior, so he chases you through the woods to teach you a lesson.
Link to AO3
MDNI/18+
TW: Primal play, breeding kink, dubious consent
You scrolled back through all of your text messages with a nasty sort of pride. You’d gone above and beyond with just how sexually explicit and arousing your poses were, splurging on outfits and toys, really putting on a show. John had been on a job for the past two months, deep undercover, and he could receive your messages but he was not able to reply. So, you started off slow; a nip-slip here, a bare butt in a mirror there…but, you’d become almost feral as his leave drew nearer, and your slutty selfies reflected that. You knew you were in trouble, and honestly, you couldn’t wait.
You got his first message in the middle of your bath, and when you checked your phone, your blood ran cold.
I am going to ruin you.
Then, the picture loaded. Price was still in his uniform, driving, holding up a fist full of paracord. He wore a wide, bone-chilling smile, and you knew deep down that he was ready to use his tools against you.
You scrambled out of your bath and threw on your clothes. You opted for leggings and a tee shirt, grabbing your running shoes and a thick pair of socks. If he was on his way, you needed to get a head start.
This wasn’t the first time you’d made him hunt for you. He had bought the giant 100 acre ranch for a reason. Price loved space, and he loved chasing you through it even more.
You sprinted through the house, out of the back door, and into the wide clearing, heading straight for the treeline. The grass crunched beneath your feet. You found some sort of pace other than frantic, and you chose some of the trails less-traveled, hoping to give him a challenge. He found you every time, but you were getting better and better at finding little hiding places.
This time, though, you were heading for the orange grove. Months ago, you and John had discovered a naturally occurring orchard on the property that you hadn’t seen on the map. The smell from the fallen, rotting fruit was heady and citrusy in the best way, and the ripe globes were full of sticky juice. It was an Eden.
Now, though, it was the end of spring, and the blossoms on the trees were heavy and wilting. Thousands of petals had fallen to the ground, but thousands more still remained in the branches, white and pink, looking like perpetual snow. The petals made your footfalls soft and inaudible. You found a large tree to hide behind and waited.
You didn’t have to wait long.
You heard his boots on the path. He was running, full out, coming for you without hesitation. When the grove came into view, he stopped. You could hear his panting breaths. Even though you couldn’t see him from your hidden spot, you could tell he was still in his fatigues. The swish of the canvas gave him away.
He didn’t care. John wanted you to hear him. He called to you from the edge of the orchard,
“I know you’re in here, sweet girl. I hope you’re ready.”
There had been times when he didn’t let you hear him coming. Once, you’d hidden in a small cave in the north quadrant of the ranch, thinking you’d finally outsmarted him, and just as you ventured out to check your surroundings, he had snatched you from above the cave like some sort of cryptid, silent and threatening. He dragged you up the rocky hill and ripped your clothes off at the seams. Your screams echoed through the woods, falling on deaf ears. He’d fucked you til you passed out, and he made you walk back with him, naked, his come dripping down your legs shamelessly. He didn’t let you sleep that night.
This time, though, he was toying with you on purpose. You heard him whistling skillfully. It was one of his favorite folk songs to whistle, sometimes while he was cleaning his guns, or just puttering around the kitchen in the mornings. But now, in the dusky woods, it felt deeply ominous and threatening. His tone was so pure and low, and he held each note out, sending it toward you like a lance, hoping to land his strikes.
“Come out, come out…” he called again, “Don’t make me wait, darling.”
There was a long, eerily silent pause, and then, not twenty feet behind you, you heard him growl through gritted teeth,
“I’m not a patient man.”
You turned your head to see him standing there in the trees, menacingly smiling at you. His grin was full of genuine joy. The lips were pulled wide, showing sharp white teeth, stretching his full beard, grown out from his time away, and the creases of his lids folded together, pulling tight around his bright blue eyes. His body was enormous. He always seemed bigger when he came home from his tours, as if the muscles had been overused, overworked, swollen from their stimulus.
You could see how his huge shoulders made the fabric of his shirt ripple and tug across that wide, furry chest hidden beneath the soft cloth. His waist was thick and strong, built like the trunk of some great tree, and his legs looked like they were taken from some Greek statue, referenced in all of the prototypes of strength and speed.
His gloves were gone, as was his hat; he was dressed for speed. You noticed, in these milliseconds you took to witness him, that he was clutching his paracord in his left hand.
At that sight, you bolted. Much like a rabbit running from its wolf, you sprinted through the grove, weaving through the thin trunks. You heard him right behind you, his boots ruining the soil, ripping up roots and gaining on you.
Finally, you felt him lunge for you, and you were caught around your waist, slamming to the ground, chest down. You reached for the roots of one of the trees, putting up a fight with your legs. You knew he liked to feel your fury, and you gave it to him. But, you were already tired, and he was so strong. His stamina allowed him to breathe normally after only a few seconds of having you pinned. You heard the sharp whine of the paracord being let out, length by length, just for you.
He reached for your hand, panting into your ear,
“C’mere, girl.”
John grabbed your wrist so hard it hurt, and he wrapped the paracord around it cruelly. When he grabbed your other wrist, you fought him, bucking him off of your back, trying to find your footing.
“You bloody little brat. Why are you pouring fucking kerosene on my fire, hmm? Don’t you know how much trouble you’re in?”
He put his hand over your mouth and pulled your head to his chest, forcing you to arch your back. He whispered to you now, dark and threatening,
“Sending me those fucking pictures, tempting me. Making me mad, had me wanting to fuck my hand until I was raw. I’m starving , and you’re the only thing I want to eat.”
With both hands bound behind your back, he let you collapse to the floor of the orchard, your chest and face thudding into the ground, knocking the breath out of you. He raked your shirt and bra up over your breasts roughly, letting your skin feel the cold grass and soil.
“John, please,” you started to beg, “I promise I’ll be good. I didn’t -“
“Good? You’re gonna be so good for me. Fuck, you’re gonna feel so goddamn good,” he was almost talking more to himself than to you. He was reckless and frantic, pulling your pants down to your boots, letting them bind your ankles on their own.
He’d left your panties in place, and he began to tug on them, gently at first and then not, letting the back of the thong dig into your flesh. Then, he pulled from the front, lifting your ass up towards him to do so, making the fabric tighten between your wet folds, framing your clit. John let go, but he didn’t bother to return the cloth to its normal position. He left it askew, knowing it would rub against you awkwardly.
He grabbed the back of your head and pulled you over to him on the grass. The petals and dirt sticking to your skin. John was kneeling, and he let you fall back prone while he undid his belt. You listened to his metal buckles and zippers as he freed his fat, flaccid cock from his pants.
Your furious lover grabbed your head again and held it up to his hairy base, his rod thicker than the tree roots around his feet. He smiled,
“Suck me hard, love. Won’t take much. Be a good girl, yeah?”
You nodded, but he wasn’t interested in your response. He was already lifting you up, one hand tangled in your sweaty hair and one beneath your chin, angling you to put his cock in your mouth.
Without hands, you could only use your lips and tongue. You rubbed your cheek against him, trying to find the fleshy tip, trying to show him you could be so good. Eventually, you managed to line him up, and as you did, he pushed forward, filling your mouth with his wide girth.
He left it there, letting you swallow around it. You couldn’t move your head; you had no leverage. So, once he knew you were good and settled, he moved it for you. He grabbed you by the hair at the base of your skull and pulled you on and off of his soft cock until it began to swell with his warm blood. When it was hard, you started to gag. It was filling up your throat, cutting off your air, puffing out your cheeks with its largeness.
John began to fuck your throat in earnest. He pressed himself in and out of your mouth, growing harder and thicker with each thrust. He grunted as he fucked himself into you, vulgar and animalistic. Finally, he removed you from his shaft and looked at your fuck-drunk face. He laughed, pushing you back down again,
“You like that cock in your mouth, huh, sweet girl?”
You moaned around him, unable to speak. He continued to praise you,
“Such a perfect fucking throat. Swallow it down, love. Just like that, fuck…”
He moved his hand from your chin to hold your neck in his warm palm, feeling his cock expanding your skin. With his thumb, he massaged long, soothing circles into your throat, almost like he was jacking himself off through your body. You felt tears run in hot rivulets down your cheeks, fighting your gag reflex to the point of pain, and your chin was coated with your drool. You were fully at his mercy.
Just to reinforce your helplessness, he shoved your nose into the root of his cock, burying your face in his dense fur, and the soft hairs tickled your nose and lip. You started to panic, realizing you couldn’t inhale nor exhale. Your body turned and writhed, and you could hear the snapping of the leaves as you fought against his unbreakable grasp. He pet your cheek with the back of his hand, coaching you through it,
“Shh, sweet thing. You know better than that. Count to ten for me. I know you can do it. I won’t let anything happen to you. Relax - ungh! - yes, that’s it. Fuckin’ perfect, such a good girl…”
His praise made you melt, and he was right. You weren’t going to suffocate. You were just panicking and needy. You took a moment to calm down, and you began to count.
One… two… three…
His cock slipped further down your throat now that you had managed to relax your muscles, filling you up in a sinfully delicious way.
Four… five… six…
He began to let out a low-toned whine, reeling from the pleasure of feeling you swallow him over and over and over, clenching your throat in a predictable rhythm, slithering your tongue along his aching shaft.
Seven… eight… nine…
The captain was breathing through his teeth now, struggling to hang on. You decided to push his limits and nuzzled into the thick hair, trying to lick it, matting it down, wet and sticky. He moaned and shuddered when you did, much to your acute satisfaction.
“Goddamn, you got me close,” he moaned, but then he pulled himself from you, letting you breathe again, “But, I have other plans. Been thinking about tonight for a long, long time.”
John left you there on the wet ground, and you caught your breath amongst the fallen petals. When you coughed, you could smell and taste the rotten orange blossoms, sickly sweet in your nose and mouth, tinged with just the slightest hint of botanical decay.
He was behind you now, spreading your legs as far as they’d go with your ankles still bound, and you felt the cool night air rush across your wet center. His fingers traced the outline of your pussy, touching all of its swollen parts except the middle where you needed him most. His big, strong fingers lingered there for too long, petting you softly like a child pets a bunny, the backs of his two fingers feeling your softness and playing around your edges.
Then, he stopped, and you felt yourself clench around nothing, aching for release.
“John?”
A loud slap rang out through the trees and you cried out from the pain, crawling away from him, your bare ass cheek burning like it was on fire. He hit you again, and left his hand there to dull the pain. Tears burned in your eyes as you wrenched them shut, feeling almost nauseous from the ache he had caused.
“That’s for teasing me, you little brat, and this,” he slapped your other ass cheek just as hard, “is for making me chase you through the bloody woods.”
You sobbed out an apology, hoping it would be enough,
“Please, John, I won’t do it again…please…”
You bit your lip to keep from crying, feeling his fingertips graze over the stinging flesh, making it spark and glitter like electricity.
“Naughty,” he rubbed his dripping cock over his handiwork, “You knew what you were doing. Beggin’ won’t help you now, hm?”
He positioned himself at your entrance and pressed his head to your hole, letting your body know he had arrived. Your pussy grabbed for him, clenching as he popped his flesh inside of yours, sinking into you with a long sigh of satisfaction. It had been so long since you had felt full, and with every agonizing inch of progress, he chased away the emptiness within you, making you whole again.
It felt good. Too good…
Suddenly, you realized he was fucking you unprotected. You usually used condoms, and he was always so careful. You craned your head to look back at him.
“John, do you have a condom?” You asked, your voice sounding meek and small, strained from your overwhelming pleasure. He knew you had a safeword, but you weren’t ready to use it.
“No, love,” he chuckled darkly, “I’m gonna breed you, right here in these bloody fucking woods, tied up like the naughty little brat that you are. Gonna fill you full of my come… all… fuckin’... night. Right here,” he shoved himself up against your womb, reaching it easily and pressing on it until it ached like a bruise, “Right here, deep, fuck…”
His hands were gripping your ass cheeks fiercely, pulling them apart so he could watch himself disappear into you. You felt your body working up an orgasm for him - not for you - he was coaxing it from you like a snake charmer, forcing it to build and build until it grew within you, hot and ready to burst.
You whimpered under his heavy form, feeling the cold grass licking at your sensitive nipples, tickling your belly and mons, feeling how your walls were gaping open to accommodate John’s huge girth.
“That’s it. Be a good girl and come for me. Want you nice and ready,” he grunted, feeling your contractions as your pleasure mounted to a head, tightening in your core and making your legs shake against his thighs, “Mm, fuck, that’s it! Fuck!”
“John, don’t come in me,” you whined, your voice slurred from your uncontrollable bliss, “I’ve been off the pill. You’ll get me pregnant if you…ungh…oh, my God…if you - shit!”
Another one, an aftershock, rocked your core. You heard it, wet and sticky, dripping down around his shaft. It made lurid, slick noises that made your cheeks flush with shame. The idea that he would willingly breed you out here in your forest made you unbelievably horny. It was so primal, so brutally feral, and with as much restraint as John usually used with you, his ruthless pounding was making you high on his affection.
“Yeah, sweet thing. I fuckin’ know,” he bent himself over you to suck on your neck, “I’m gonna bloody well make sure you are,” his voice became a little sinister as he whispered in your ear, “I took a pill before I chased you out here. Won’t be soft for a good while. I’ll just come and come and come until it’s fuckin’ pourin’ out of you. Want you to be drownin’ in it, yeah? Gonna… make… damn… sure.”
Each thrust was an ordeal with how sensitive you were. You could feel his heat pooling inside of you from the incredible friction. You couldn’t help but bear down on him, and he cried out, unable to hold himself back for much longer.
“John, please…” You weren’t sure what you were even begging for anymore.
“Say it, love. Use the safeword. Say it, before it’s too late. C’mon…”
You turned your head and met his eyes. The blue of them pierced you like a knife, and the turmoil they displayed made you even hornier for his spilled seed. You managed a tired smile and shut your mouth, turning away from him, knowing you’d won.
“Oh, fuck me,” he lamented, unable to keep himself contained.
You felt his hot, heavy ropes coat your insides for the first time, and it was everything you thought it would be. The gooey, warm sensation made your whole body tremble, and your pussy fluttered around him as if trying to stroke it all out of his shaft, hungry for more and more of his sweet, spun sugar.
He buried himself to the hilt and took a few deep breaths. Then, John turned your body over and kept rutting into you, hoisting your ankles over one of his shoulders and grabbing your thighs for support. He was completely fuck-drunk, his pupils blown wide like he was high, and he laughed softly as he looked down at you,
“Look at you, dirty girl. The flowers… so fuckin’ pretty.”
Your hands were tied behind you, digging into your back, forcing you to arch up into him, and the position pushed your breasts up into the air, your nipples filthy with mud and soil, covered in white and pink petals from the orchard’s fallen blooms. He freed one of his hands to smear the vegetation all over your skin, pawing at your breasts and gathering up more petals from the ground to paint your body.
He rested his hand over your lower belly, right where he could feel himself spearing into you, his palm right over your womb. John pressed down with a closed fist right at the end of your hole, where your flesh stopped him, and he pushed his knuckles down, tightening your walls from above. It was a singular sensation, and your body decided it was a good one, sending all sorts of confusing, panicked signals to your brain. You screamed from it, and he chuckled,
“Mm, yes… squirm for me, sweet thing. I love it when you try to get away. Can’t, can you?”
“Fuck! John! Please! God!” You were trying anything and everything to keep from coming again. You wanted to fight, and you weren’t ready for him to have the satisfaction.
But, you were helpless to him. He pounded into you hard and slow, vibrating your whole body every time he hit your wet, sticky end, and you fell into another wave of orgasms. They were difficult to pick apart. You weren’t sure where one ended and the next began. John did not seem concerned about over stimulating you, pinching and holding your clit between his finger and his thumb once he removed his fist from your womb.
“Good girl… Gonna look so beautiful when you’re all swollen, hmm?” He pet your womb again, unable to stay away from pressing on it rhythmically, “Those breasts full and heavy. Needin’ me. Needin’ me like I fuckin’ need you.”
He thrust harder, pushing your legs down over your arched belly, slamming his length into your stickiness, chasing another orgasm. He found it in you, and you could feel his cockhead nuzzling your womb as it throbbed as if begging for entrance, painting your walls again.
Then, swiftly, he pulled out of you, lifting your ass into the air, making you take your weight on your shoulders. He put his face between your legs and started to shove his tongue into your pussy, lapping at his own come as it mixed with yours. It was feral and grotesque, and you loved every soft lap of his tongue. He was shoving it inside of you, spitting himself into your swollen slit, using his clean hand to push his come deeper inside, curling his knuckles to rub you to another painful orgasm, watching you come undone. Then, he went back to licking you, gathering any lost spend from your folds and fucking it back inside you with his pink mouth.
Satisfied with his efforts, he kept you vertical and began to eat your asshole, licking and licking and licking like a hound. He managed to squeeze his tongue inside it, writhing around, sticky and warm. His fingers joined in, pistoning in and out of you together in tandem, convincing your body to clench around him, desperate for more relief.
He held you tight, digging around in his pocket for a moment before showing you his gift. It was a t-bar plug. You thought he’d slip it into your ass, but he managed to wedge it into your pussy, keeping his come inside of you, safe and sound.
“Tha’s it. Sweet girl. Doin’ so good, hm? C’mon. Let’s get you inside. Got a long night ahead of us.”
He picked you up around your legs and hoisted you over his back like a sack of flour, marching you out of the orchard and towards home.
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Could you please share how your Neyo piece from the other day ends?
What a Change pt. 2
Summary: You've been trapped on this war torn planet for two days, you just have to wait for Neyo to come and get you.
Pairing: Commander Neyo x Reader
Word Count: 1332
Warnings: None
Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni
A/N: There's no love confessions here, but the love is there and it's enough.
You wince as you duck behind the broken wall of what used to be a medical clinic. A medical clinic that Doctors Without Borders set up years ago, you recognize some of the equipment that lay, damaged and unused, around the exam room.
When Commander Neyo told you that the planet wasn’t peaceful anymore, you weren’t sure that you believed him. After all, you had been here before, and had helped vaccinate the population against the plague. You had friends here.
Or, you had once upon a time.
You duck your head a little more as blaster fire hits the wall over your head, and you wince as small pieces of drywall rain down on you.
Commander Neyo had been very clear. Find a safe place, and stay there until he can come and find you. You thought it would be an easy thing to agree to. But in almost two days, you haven’t found a single safe place to hide.
Honestly, you’re kind of glad that Neyo insisted on wearing your armor, because you’re been shot several times over the last couple of days. You glance down at your chest piece, which is now decorated with three different blaster burns.
You’re also glad that Doctors Without Borders splurges for some very high end armor.
You hear heavy footsteps, and silently you drop to the ground, and shimmy your way through an opening in the wall, leading you back outside…or what was outside, when there was an inside to compare it to.
You stay low, hidden behind some bushes, and you close your eyes and try to remember. Outside the city, there was a massive cave system that the people here used to inter their deceased. Right up until they learned that the reason there was so much illness on the planet was because of all of the death so close by.
The caves had been emptied and the bodies had been properly disposed of…and the caves should be empty.
Great. Fantastic.
All you have to do is cross a city filled with people who want to kill you, and find your way out of the city into a wilderness full of creatures that want to kill you, in the hopes that maybe you’ll find a cave system that used to be a death sentence to enter.
Lovely.
The back of your head settles against the building for a moment, maybe you can just stay here. Surely no one would look for you in a place where you’d already been, right?
You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and then start moving. You know that staying in place is a death sentence, especially here. You just hope that Commander Neyo actually comes for you.
No.
No, you can’t think like that. Neyo said he would come, so he will.
Finally, you finally make it outside of the city, and you find the cave system with ease. You’re not surprised to see that the system is empty, the place still carries an air of grief and sorrow.
You’re more surprised that the cave systems haven’t been completely sealed off.
You settle yourself only a little way in from the mouth of the cave, and you curl behind a large rock. Better safe than sorry in this case.
Slowly you drift off, your head resting on your vambraces. You sure do hope that no one finds you…or that the only person who does find you is Commander Neyo.
You start awake to the sound of heavy steps on dirt, and you keep yourself still through sheer stubbornness.
“Doc?” A familiar voice echoes through the cave, “It’s Neyo, I know you’re in here.”
You hesitate, and then poke your head out from behind the rock, “Commander?”
You see his helmet turn in your direction, and tension drains out of his shoulders. “When the General said that your tracking fob put you in the cave system we feared that you had been killed.”
You blink at him, “Tracking fob?”
He walks over to you and crouches so he’s closer to eye level with you, taking a moment to pull his helmet off and set it to the side so you’re able to see his face. Neyo reaches out to you, and then down into one of your many, many pouches, and he pulls a small plastoid disk out of the pocket, “Tracking fob.”
You stare at the disk for a moment, “You put a tracking device on me?” You don’t know if you should laugh or cry.
“Of course I did. I told you I was going to find you, how’d you think I was going to do that without a tracking device.” Neyo helps you to your feet, and his gaze drops to the blaster burns on your chest plate. “You were shot.”
You sniffle, unable to help yourself, “I was shot a lot.”
“I can tell, you’re not hurt are yo-” He stops talking mid-sentence when you fling your arms around him in a tight hug, “Uh…” Hesitantly he wraps his arms around you and lightly pets the back of your head.
“‘M sorry,” You mumble, but you don’t pull away from the hug, instead you raise onto your toes and press your nose against the spot on his neck that isn’t covered with armor, but is covered with the thin material of his blacks.
Neyo releases a slightly shaky breath, “You don’t have to apologize.” His arms tighten around you, “You’re not supposed to end up in these situations.”
“No one should end up in these kinds of situations.” You reply mournfully.
Slowly, hesitantly, Neyo brings a hand to rest on the back of your neck, trying to offer you what comfort he can.
“I’m sorry you had to come after me. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the vaccines at the beginning. I’m-”
“Hey, hey. No. None of that.” Neyo pulls you away and presses his hand against your cheek, “You did the right thing. The Admiral should have passed the information down, not sat on it until it was too late. And I will always come after you. Always.” It sounds like a promise and you stare up at him with watery eyes.
“I’m sure you have better things-”
“Never. You are the most important.” Neyo interrupts. “You, who fight for me and my brothers even when we intimidate you. You who cares so very much about everything.”
You blink at him, surprised at his words.
“I am going to get you back to the ship. And then I’m going to punt the Admiral out the airlock.” Neyo bitches, “And then you’re going to cure the enhanced aging of me and my brothers.”
You sniffle and wipe your eyes, “I’m really close.”
“I know you are, it’s because you’re brilliant,” Neyo says as he brushes his thumb across your cheek, “And once you fix the enhanced aging, and the war is over, I’m going to marry the kriff out of you and give you three kids and a kriffing house with a garden and two tookas-”
You laugh softly, your anxiety and fear from the last two days fading now that you know that you’re safe again, “Seems like you have it all planned.”
“That is what I’m good at,” Neyo replies, he brushes his thumb against your cheek a little longer, and then he pulls away, “We have a camp set up about an hour walk from here. I will get you back to camp safely. But you’re going to have to stay at camp to keep you away from the Admiral.”
“You don’t trust him.”
“Not when you’re involved.” Neyo scoffs, he pulls his helmet back on, “Stay close, Doc.”
You smile at him, and stand on your toes to press a light kiss against his helmet, “Thank you, Commander.”
Later you’ll talk to him about feelings. But he’s already made it plain to you what his feelings are, you just have to do the same thing…somehow.
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send IMPRESSED for a scene from my muse's past in which they tried to impress someone, successfully or not
GLIMPSES OF THE PAST // accepting!!
Today was the day.
The cold season was approaching in great leaps. Sooner or later, the mountain would be shrouded in its white veil, which it would don for several moons to come. Animals would look for shelter inside the dark yet warm caves.
Inosuke had long chosen his own refuge. It was a particularly broad cave with a narrower entrance, offering perfect shelter from the biting winds that seeping through the opening. He had gathered firewood and nice stones to spark a fire, deer skins to cover the ground, and enough acorns or pinecones to last many nights.
It was a perfect cave. Unfortunately, Inosuke wasn't the only one to have noticed that.
He first spotted the bear crawling inside as he returned with a fresh haul of acorns – perhaps the last of the season. By the time the bear exited its hiding spot once more, and Inosuke could weasel inside the cave again, his precious treasure had been devoured already.
Day after day, Inosuke waited by the cave's entrance, spying on the bear's ever motion. It returned fatter with each passing day, splurging on fresh fish and berries, to the point where the cave's entrance was barely just allowing its imposing stature through. This might be its final trip before its long slumber.
"That's my cave, you big heap of fur. I found it first!" Inosuke seethed through gritted teeth. He tightened his hold around the sticks he held in each hand, and waited for the bear to return from its latest feast. Once he could feel its heavy steps making the ground tremble under his feet, Inosuke sprung from his hiding spot in a tree above, and landed between the bear and the cave's entrance.
The child puffed his chest out, shoulders spread far apart, sticks brandished by his sides. An attempt to make himself as large as he could, boar head crowning his frame, snout held high.
"WAAAAAAAAAARGGHHHHH!!!!"
His cry would resonate all the way down the mountain, urging birds to fly off their perches in the nearby trees. Inosuke stood his ground, refusing to acknowledge the trembling of his own body.
"THIS IS MY TURF! YOU HEAR ME?! I CHOSE THIS CAVE FIRST! SO GO FIND ANOTHER ONE, YOU BIG PILE OF–"
His voice died out in his throat. The bear had risen on its hind legs, towering far above the boy's head as it returned the roar, jaw dripping with specks of freshly devoured fish and saliva.
There was no going back. Inosuke refused to give up. He yelled some more as he dashed and leapt high, body twisting in mid-air as he brought his sticks above the same shoulder, and aimed to slash them down at the bear's head.
Crack.
The bear's clawed pawed was faster. It sliced through the air with blinding speed as it caught the boy's torso, and sent him hurling across the clearing.
The pain was so blinding that Inosuke hardly registered when his body hit the ground. His hands rushed to his side, only to be coated in thick, warm blood. He only had to take a simple breath to notice his several broken ribs, and the depths of the gashes carved into his skin.
Inosuke remained motionless on the ground. He waited for the heavy steps to grow closer, but they never came. The bear must have ruled out the threat, and moved on with his day.
Another kind of warmth spread down Inosuke's cheeks. Tears of pain and frustration, the rage gnawing at his insides, pushing away the ache that tore at his entire being.
A rush of cold wind rattled the leafless branches above his head. Inosuke turned onto his side, eyes blankly staring at the endless white of the skies above him. A little piece of cloud seemed to descend all the way to his face, where it left a cold bite. The first snowflake.
He didn't have a shelter. He didn't have any supplies. He was injured, weakened, tired.
Oh, how he hated the cold season.
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On Evolving Tastes
1989: "I know of no other games than Super Mario Bros. 1 through 3, Tetris, Doctor Mario and Mickey's Mousecapade. This will last for a few years, until my aunt will introduce me to bootleg 300-in-one cartridges. Ironically, I'll only ever touch Yie Ar Kung Fu, Macross, Mappy, Dig Dug and City Connection."
1990: "Dad's discovered that a store near his office sells Tengen cartridges for a fraction of officially-licenced titles! He gets me Gauntlet on the super cheap, thinking I'll play it once and forget about it, but Gauntlet becomes the one game I play the most often."
1996: "Man, Earthworm Jim and Myst are going to dominate this summer vacation! I might even work in some time for a few Mortal Kombat tourneys!"
1999: "I got over my giant snob self and gave Quake and Half-Life a shot. Something's shifted, for sure. I'm not sure, but I might actually like a few shooters..."
2001: "I am a grown-ass man and I cannot stop playing The Sims. Please send help, I'm nurturing an unhealthy God complex."
2002: "I'm really mad at myself for not finding out about Vampire - The Masquerade: Redemption until two years after its release."
2004: "Vampire - The Masquerade: Bloodlines has consumed me."
2005: "Study? Yeah, sure, I do - but Unreal Tournament 2004 is where it's at - whenever Black & White 2 doesn't consume for weeks on end."
2006: "My Dad introduced me to SimCity 3000 several years too late, which is introducing me to the wacky world of PC retrogaming. I now use his beige croaker of a clerical machine to work on Isometric metropolises while snapping my fingers to some real-ass Jazz bops."
2007: "I resisted for two years, but finally caved in to Guitar Hero. It's also the best excuse I had to get a Slim PS2."
2008: "I used my paycheck from my first Real, Adult Man Job at the campus to get myself an XBOX 360 and Fable II! I'll spend years playing it while ignoring the game's obvious flaws!"
2009: "I kinda hate myself for it, but I splurged on a PS3 after a friend showed me Super Stardust HD."
2010: "Fuck you, getting myself a Wii for the express purpose of playing the Metroid Prime Trilogy. Also, ow, this exact fucking thing will also send me off to my first serious GP appointment as an adult, for a Carpal Tunnel Syndrome diagnosis. I'll spend two years wearing a wrist brace and playing through all three games in short bursts. The tendon responsible for retracting my right thumb is on permanent fire and every gameplay session puts me through a physical gauntlet, but every new gameplay component the series introduces makes me feel like a kid again."
2011: "Skyrim. Just - Skyrim. I'll perpetrate my first and only acts of professional truancy to devote entire weeks to my quest log. It helps that this winter was particularly Siberian, so I had plenty of excuses to stay home and slay dragons."
2014: "I power through Destiny on the PS3 and spend about four months being extremely hooked onto the game's universe and lore. I'll design character after character even after finishing the main quest four times, because I finally discovered what Halo stans have been enjoying for years - which is an approachable and still complex Fantasy/Sci-Fi shooter that hasn't yet lost its narrative compass...
Luckily, I also find out about Middle-Earth: Shadow of Mordor and realize I have a thing for Uruk-Hai labelled as "The Friendly". I'll spend a year at the pace of an hour or two per day trying to populate my two camps with nothing but Friendlies."
2015: "As is usually the case, I come into this a few years too late and discover the joy that is Saints Row: The Third. GTA never grabbed me, while Volition's total lack of self-seriousness delights me. I buy Saints Row IV immediately after finishing my first run-through, and find that Volition's writing team is the only thing that keeps me going. If it weren't for JB Blanc's mouth-watering portrayal of Emperor Zinyak, I'd be playing a fun, if average third-person shooter."
2016: "Bigger job titles means more disposable income, which means my first custom-built tower PC after years of prebuilts - and a PS4! Destiny 2 and GTA 5 are big ones on there, but the first one disappoints me with how it gatekeeps the lore behind high-skill activities that are unfriendly for players with navigational or reflex-related issues (i.e. moi) and the second turns absolutely turgid at any moment that doesn't feature Trevor Philips.
Seriously, who do I have to call at Rockstar to let them know I don't give a rat's ass about Michael DeSanta's midlife hoodlum crisis?!"
2017: "Middle-Earth: Shadow of War, baby! Copy and paste my fixation from 2014, except now Friendlies are voiced by JB Blanc. Thank fuck for apartments, 'cause I wouldn't have wanted my folks to see me aggressively blush any time a Friendly crossed swords with me, claiming to want to be my pal."
2020: "Welp, guess it's nothing except slaying demons and building an island commune on my brand-new Nintendo Switch... Oh, and wouldn't you know it, Cyberpunk 2077 just came out, and in such a state that I won't seriously touch it until September 2022..."
2021: "What's happening to me? Why am I so psyched about Power Washer Simulator? Why did I spend nearly as much time in Mechanic Simulator 2021 as I did in Skyrim? Why do I persist in being hyped for House Flipper despite reports of horribly unoptimized code?"
2022: "I might as well embrace it: I have no hair on top and grow a mo' in an afternoon, I can only maintain a very mild case of fitness and there's fifteen to twenty pounds I just can't get rid of no matter how hard I try. I am a Dad, now. I have the Dad Bod - the real one, not the one perpetuated by misaligned kiddies who'd call British Pop Music starlets Daddy - and I am now oddly hyped for Construction Simulator. I've finished Cyberpunk four times, played through Elden Ring twice, and I'm at the point where I'd honestly be excited by a game that finds some way to simplify the act of grading papers.
I dream of a twist on Papers, Please where one plays as a lecturer and where the goal of the game is to grade papers while avoiding interpersonal or professional scandals, as well as meeting faculty quotas..."
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Tirdas, 2nd day of Heartfire, 4E 201
<- PREVIOUS ENTRY
It's been a week since my last entry. I suppose I never got the chance to write because I've been on the road.
I prepared myself for the journey from Whiterun to Markarth as best I could, but eventually grew frustrated with the slow pace of my progress. Even though I didn't have everything I may have needed, like a good stock of food and potions or a proper tent, I decided to simply strike out and hope for the best.
I first set out to Rorikstead, an easy enough journey given my familiarity with the path. But then, after I traveled north along the western road, I encountered a fort that'd been overtaken by Forsworn.
I confess, dear diary, a moment of weakness. My mother always told me horrific tales of the madmen of the Reach. As a girl, I was as afraid of the Forsworn as giants and draugr. And some part of that fear lingers in me, for I decided to scale the mountainside to avoid crossing through the fort. It was tricky and I nearly fell several times, but at least the weather was in my favor. I doubt I would've survived the climb come rain or snow. And for my detour, I only had to face a single saber cat.
Note to future self: Remember! They're fearful of fire! Study more Destruction spells!
I arrived in Karthwasten without incident. As I entered the town, I overheard an argument between a local mine-owner and a mercenary. Apparently, the word around town indicated that the Silver-Blood family of Markarth sought to bully the owner, Ainethach, into selling the mine. I could not stop to deal with this matter at the time, as I'm already on business for the Companions. But I think I will return to this town soon enough to lend a hand to Ainethach.
After I continued past Karthwasten, I came upon a ruined settlement engulfed in flames. I was attacked by Forsworn, but I held my ground in spite of my fear. Once I had dispatched the three heathens, I hurried from the ruined settlement, feeling it unwise to stick around in case their allies found me.
Further up the road, I encountered another mine, called Left-Hand Mine. Here, one of the miners explained that he was from the ruined settlement, called Kolskeggr Mine and that it was overtaken by the Forsworn. I promised him that I would return and take back the mine for the people. But the troubles of the Reach didn't stop there.
I finally arrived in Markarth this morning, only to witness a man attempt to murder a woman in the markets near to the city gate. In broad daylight, no less! Luckily for the woman, Margaret, I threw myself in the way of his blade. It glanced off of my armor and then I caved his head in with my maul. In his dying breaths, he screeched something about the Forsworn. He hadn't even fully collapsed before the guards were ushering me and all others of the markets aside. A strange man then slipped me a note, requesting I meet him by a hidden shrine of Talos.
Suffice to say, this city has put me on edge. And I am wary to patron the local Silver-Blood Inn. I'll give you two guesses what family owns that inn. And most of the town, according to the gossip I've overheard sitting here on the streets. I don't want to lay my head in this forsaken city, not for one night. There is something sinister woven into the very stone of this city, and I want no part of it.
I will simply find this Imedhnain fellow, give him a good thrashing, and then make haste to return to Whiterun. I may even splurge on a carriage ride to ferry me back. I suspect the back of a cart would be a safer bed than any I'd find here in Markarth.
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sooooo.....im super excited to have my first nendroid, and i might be delirious but im glad it would be kuroo lmao
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all i can think of right now is topper finding out about rafe and barry being fuck buddies and him getting all protective and rafe trying to convince him barry’s chill
Okay so this turned out pretty fluffy hehe Or at least it’s a super fluffy ending. I hope you like it and thank you for your prompt!!! :)
(Warnings: Mentions of suicidal thoughts, hospitalization, and rehab for an addiction)
A few tough topics in the characters’ pasts but I swear it’s a nice happy ending for everyone!
“Sooo, this is the new place, huh?” Topper eyed each corner of the screened in patio carefully, as if he were expecting a terrible surprise if he sat down in the wrong place.
Rafe couldn’t exactly blame him for that. He had found a few needles in the couch cushions once upon a time, before he’d moved in permanently and cleaned the place up. But Barry didn’t deal with the hardcore shit anymore and customers weren’t always lingering all over the place now that there was a legal storefront where they could pick up their weed then take it home to smoke.
“Home sweet home.” Rafe confirmed, tossing Topper a beer when he finally settled on a place to sit down. “Like what I did with the furniture out here? Now these couches match the one in the living room.”
Topper nodded with a thoughtful hum. “Sugar Daddy let you splurge a little on the remodeling?” He questioned and Rafe rolled his eyes.
“Shut up. He’s not my sugar daddy. We’re getting married.”
Topper hadn’t opened his drink yet, even as Rafe was downing his own, perched contently on the armrest next to his best friend and just looking like he was at ease with the world.
That was a look Topper had never seen on Rafe, but still, he wasn’t going to just give this guy his blessing without making him work a little first. He’d heard some troubling stories about Rafe’s knight in not so shiny armor, and he felt it was his responsibility to look out for his buddy, since Ward Cameron obviously wouldn’t.
“You look…happy?” Topper tried to sound convincing, like he actually bought the idea already that Rafe was making the right call with this guy.
“You sound surprised.” Rafe raised a brow, setting his beer aside and wiping a line of foam from his mouth. “Look, man, I know it’s not figure eight worthy or anything but it’ll grow on you.”
“Rafe.” Topper ran his hands over his face.
“It’s not the scum on the siding is it?” Rafe asked. “Barry’s uncle’s supposed to come and power wash that before the wedding.”
“No, no, the house isn’t the problem, man.” Topper met Rafe’s eyes again, gathering the courage to ask him some harder questions. “I’m worried about you being with this dude.” He confessed. “I know he sells pot in town now, but he used to be a coke dealer right?”
Rafe scrunched up his nose. “Used to be doesn’t mean he is now.” He huffed defensively. “I used to be an addict. Now I’m not. And Barry changed a lot for me…”
“Didn’t he get you addicted in the first place?”
“So fucking what?” Rafe growled, doing his best to remember the breathing techniques that were supposed to help him settle in moments of frustration and anger. “He got clean when I did.” He told Topper, fists slowly beginning to unclench at his sides. “And if it wasn’t for him, I’d still be a mess in the head. You know he was the one who finally took me to talk to somebody, right? Ward didn’t do shit besides throw a few checks to the rehab place…Barry was there for me, man. When I went in, when I got home. He really got me through everything. Even now he always keeps up with my appointments, reminds me to take my pills and all that.”
Topper felt a bit guilty now. He’d just assumed that it had been Ward who finally caved and started paying attention to Rafe’s problems.
That is what a father would do, after all. Eventually. Hopefully. But in Rafe’s case, apparently his “father” hadn’t come through. His fiancé had.
“Did he uh…Did he take you to the hospital that one night?” Topper inquired. He tried to keep the memories of that particular evening to a minimum. It scared him even now, thinking of Rafe in the worst state he’d ever been in, storming out of his house with a gun and shouting about putting himself out of his own misery. He’d claimed it would be the best thing for them all.
It wouldn’t have been and Topper knew it even then, but while his words hadn’t been enough to stop Rafe that night, this new guy’s supposedly had.
Topper called Rafe’s phone a million times after he’d left and finally the next morning he’d gotten a text back.
“Rafe’s fine. Took him to ER. They keepin him for a few days.”
Topper had this confirmed himself, hurrying to the hospital and asking after his best friend, almost sobbing and tears ready to pour down his face as he panicked to the nurse at the front desk of the psychiatric ward.
“Mr. Cameron is safe and that is all I can tell you for now.”
Normally Topper would argue for more information but the knowledge alone that Rafe was still breathing was plenty to put his mind at ease.
At least it was until Rafe disappeared for a long time after that.
Topper had gotten one phone call and this time it was Rafe himself, just after getting out of the hospital three days after the incident.
“Listen, I’m going away for a bit.” He’d told Topper. “If Dad asks, tell him I’m fine. I’ve got a um…a friend…with me. He’s gonna take me to Dallas. There’s a rehab program there that’s supposed to be good.”
Topper remembers feeling relieved and fearful at the same time, happy for his friend that he was finally getting some help but wondering who on earth he’d gotten mixed up with that was taking him all the way to Texas.
“Tell your friend to take care of you, alright, man?” He’d pleaded with Rafe. “Stay safe, bud. We’ll celebrate when you come back.”
“For sure.” Rafe hadn’t sounded very hopeful then but now, Topper saw a completely different person when he looked at his best friend.
He was happy, peaceful, finally able to live his life without fear of Ward’s tyranny…and he was getting married soon. To a guy that Topper still hadn’t met, but that had done a lot for Rafe.
When the front door to the trailer opened and shut and footsteps could be heard walking through the living room, Topper wasn’t sure whether he wanted to try to be as thankful or as intimidating as possible.
“Yo, baby!” A thickly accented voice called once the man it belonged to reached the kitchen to grab a drink for himself out of the fridge. “You home? Where’s your little friend, huh? Thought we was grabbin’ somethin’ to eat!”
“Out here!” Rafe answered, smiling even before his fiancé came to stand in the doorway of the patio.
He looked like quite a rough character, and in fact…Topper recognized him.
“You!?” He let the demand for an explanation fall straight from his dropped jaw.
“Yeah, me.” Barry snorted, setting the beer he was carrying aside and holding his arms out for Rafe. “Where’s my welcome home kisses, sweet thang. Come here and let me squeeze you a little.” He pulled Rafe into his arms and held him tight, kissing against his neck and then pressing one gentle peck to his lips. “Thought I told you not to go gettin any prettier while I was gone.” He grinned, and Rafe just looked so…in love? Topper couldn’t believe his eyes.
“Hey tone it down in front of Top, babe. Alright?” Rafe was blushing and unable to hide the fond little grin he wore once Barry sat him back down. “He’s a little squirmy about this kinda thing.”
Barry turned to look at Topper, eyes scanning the younger man up and down before he nodded his approval. “You the one that calls in to check on Country Club all the time, ain’t ya?” He asked.
Topper nodded. “He’s my best friend.” He confirmed to Barry. “Just wanna be sure he’s doing alright still.”
Barry gave Topper a friendly smile then and whacked him on the back in a brotherly manner. “You alright, man. We’ll get along just fine…Baby Cakes? You take your medicine this mornin’ after I left?” His full attention was back on Rafe, sitting back on the nearest couch and pulling his fiancé down onto his lap to hug on him.
Alright. This was good. Topper was convinced that he could be friends with Barry.
Maybe Rafe had better taste in men than he’d once thought.
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How would Mary goore react to hurting someone he genuinely cares about? I absolutely Love your writing!💕
Hello, nonny! Thank you, I love this ask!
This was going to be alist, but it got away from me! 😅
Enjoy 😘
It wasn’t anything big.
Just a few of Mary’s favorite beers (the craft kind—not the shitty beer he drank on his shoestring budget), some of that chronic shit you’d scored and have been saving for a special occasion, and a VHS box set of horror movie classics.
***
Mary comes in and out of your life at will, and that was something you accepted—knowing he was As Is or not at all. And honestly—no, really—you liked that. You had your own shit going on, and being Mary’s expected caregiver was NOT something you wanted to add to that list.
(If someone else wanted to try to tame him and pick up after him, well…kudos to them. Less work for you.)
Mary showed up on your pivotal days and he rubbed your feet and always invited you out to trivia. You'd held him when he was coming down from a bad trip and listened to his grievances and gave him a place to stay when he was persona non grata at his own. And in a way, that made you always feel like #1 in Mary’s world…and that was good enough for you.
***
A few months ago, Mary had been lying on your couch, picking the label off his beer bottle.
“I’m gonna be away for a bit,” he’d said.
“Oh?” you’d responded as you’d mashed the controls on your gaming controller.
“Yeah. I mean, I’ll be around…but I got some shit going on.”
You’d paused your game.
“Bad shit?”
He’d waved you off.
“Neg. Just tryna get myself out there. Signed up for open mics and shit.”
He’d shifted, his long legs receding from around you and folding under him.
“So, like…I got my job at the bowling alley…but nights and weekends are kinda shot.”
You’d tried not to let the disappointment show on your face. You supported Mary’s dreams, and that meant not making an issue that he was finally trying to do something about them.
This wasn’t against you. It was for him.
When you’d taken too long to respond, his face had scrunched.
“But if you want—”
“It’s fine, Mare,” you’d said as you’d made yourself smile. “This is important to you, so it’s important to me.”
You’d unpaused your game.
“Just don’t expect me to not beat this game without you.”
He’d grabbed the controller out of your hands with a snarl, causing you to cry out when you died.
“Fuck the game.” His hand had fisted your shirt. “Give me a night to remember.”
You had. Twice.
***
Mary had texted you occasionally over the next few weeks—a few memes, a few drunken key-smashes, a dick pic, and 2 grainy videos of his performances for critique—but such contact was sporadic, and you’d never seen him in real-time.
He’d blown in one night, five weeks in, with a box of pizza just as you'd been heading out to meet your crew. When you’d told him you’d made plans, he’d looked so crestfallen that you’d caved and canceled on them.
While he’d been there, he’d given you a date in 3 weeks.
“That Saturday I have nowhere to be,” he’d said as he’d chewed. “I can spend the whole day with you.”
You’d been careful not to seem too eager.
“Oh yeah? Should I plan shit?”
He’d crammed the whole crust into his mouth and had given you a doughy grin.
“Why ’’ya think I told you?”
You didn’t know what you’d expected, but when he’d had to bounce 90min later, you were still surprised. (That was hardly enough time to digest!)
“Sorry,” he’d winced. “I gotta be on a bus in 45min.”
He’d left, and you’d been too embarrassed to join your friends who were only just going to the second bar.
Having fun with your man ;) ? one of your friends had texted.
What do you think? You’d texted back before changing into your pjs and turning on Netflix.
***
So maybe you were low-key excited about your day with Mary.
Perhaps you’d spent those 3 weeks figuring out the perfect date—something that said, “I missed you,” without saying “But in a clingy way.”
Beer and horror were two things the both of you were totally into, and you knew he’d be exhausted, so it seemed perfect. You’d bought the boxed set off of eBay and splurged for expedited shipping; you’d borrowed your brother’s old dual TV/VCR from his college days; and you’d forgone your weekly Chinese takeout for the craft beer funds. (And if things got steamy, well…even better.)
***
A few days before The Date, you’d run into Mary on the bus. You were coming home from a shift, and he was going to his.
He’d brightened and waved you over—as if you weren’t already on your way—and you’d plopped down beside him with a tired grin. You’d told him of the latest entitled asshole, and he’d showed you another clip of him on guitar.
Before your stop had come up, you’d tentatively placed your hand over his.
“We still on for Saturday?”
He’d blinked at you a few moments before grinning.
“Yeah.”
“Should I plan a whole day for us, then?”
His arm had crept around your shoulders before pulling you into him to kiss your temple.
“Yeah, why not.”
***
That morning, you wake up happy.
Mary will be over soon.
You roll over and grab your phone.
When should I expect you? :-*
It takes him an hour to respond. You aren’t surprised—Mary isn’t known for being a morning person—so when your phone dings, you grab it up excitedly.
An excitement that dies when you read his text. And reread. And re-reread.
not 2day
goin upste 2 show
You blink.
What show? Didn’t we confirm?
yeah. got me thinkin
why no show?
so i chked
i missed one
gotta do it
Rage blooms hot, then cold behind your eyes and down your cheeks.
But you said we had the whole day. I made plans.
save em
ths is impt 2 me
We’ve had this planned for weeks.
i thot u suprted me
on a bus cnt tlk
You send a few more irate texts, but he doesn’t respond, and you toss your phone across the room with a shout of frustration. You scrub the hot tears from your eyes before they can fall.
And…on paper, Mary isn’t wrong. Nothing you had planned won’t keep: movies, beer, takeout.
But…
It gives you a stark look at what you mean to Mary. He gave you this date and confirmed it. He knew you were making plans.
How long was he going to wait to tell you he wasn’t even in the city anymore?
You fight the urge to kick the VHS tapes across the floor, but you open the fridge and grab a beer. If Queen Elizabeth could have beer for breakfast, then it was good enough for you.
Once you’ve downed all eight, you move on to the jug of vodka you keep for cleaning.
When you empty only liquid from your stomach into the toilet, you grab your frozen fries out of the freezer. You roll a handful of the cold ones in your mouth as you wait for the others to crisp in the oven, and once you’ve consumed the cooked ones, you go right back to the vodka.
***
Opening your eyes the next morning is a mistake, so you take a few deep breaths and go back to sleep.
When you wake again, your heart is fluttering, your stomach turns, and it feels like there’s an ice pick behind one eye. Shuffling slowly, you make your way out to your kitchen where you take some painkillers, drink some pickle juice, and eat two slices of plain bread.
The sense that you did something awful stays with you, but you’re in no condition to find your phone and see what you’ve done. Instead, you go back to bed. It takes more deep breathing to settle yourself, but once you do fall asleep, you’re out for hours.
You don’t feel amazing when you swim to consciousness again, but you feel at least like a human being.
Your phone is dead when you find it under the sink, and waiting the 5 or so minutes for it to charge feels like waiting to face the executioner.
It’s both better and worse than you expected.
You breathe a sigh of relief to see that there are no vague social media posts, and you didn’t drunk dial any of your friends, but…
The texts to and from Mary are ugly.
Apparently, you’d managed not to send him angry texts until he’d sent you another clip of his performing. But then the floodgates had opened.
You’d started with telling him you didn’t give a shit about the show, how he was an inconsiderate ass, and then you'd devolved into incomprehensible, typo-ridden texts that accused him of using you, that you were only something to do when he didn’t have anything better to do, that he was an entitled man-child and if he didn’t apologize, you were done.
Mary’s texts in response range from him being angry at your disregard, to heated retorts you were blowing this out of proportion (and he didn’t appreciate your “ad hominem” attacks), to a cool detachment that this wasn’t working over text and he’d finish this in person.
You put your head in your hands but are too dehydrated to cry.
***
Mary doesn’t text you again during his self-imposed time frame.
You don’t text him either, but that’s more out of self-preservation than pride. There’s no point exacerbating the situation…and you’re pretty sure there’s no coming back from this, so why speed up the inevitable?
The horror tapes taunt you every time you walk by them, and you wonder if you can return them (you can’t). You give the TV back to your brother, and when he asks you how it went, you plaster a smile on your face and say, “Great!” with forced enthusiasm you hope comes across as genuine.
The primo weed goes over to your friend’s house, and the two of you wax poetic all night about existential claptrap as you devour two cheese pizzas and a bag of bbq chips. You talk about Mary without talking about Mary, and you get a heartfelt, “Sorry, dude.”
You beat the video game anyway, but it’s mostly because you needed something to occupy your mind and less out of spite (though that’s there as well).
***
Despite waiting on tenterhooks to hear anything from Mary, you truly don’t really expect to. You know you’d been atrocious, even if it had been prompted by his careless disregard, and you know Mary isn’t really the kind of guy that troubles himself with relationships that are hard.
Not that you’re in a relationship.
So when there’s a knock on your door a week later and Mary’s behind it, you’re genuinely surprised.
You gape through the peephole in shock.
“Fuck. If you’re there, just let me in, ok?”
Fumbling with the chain, you unlock the door and crack it open.
“Mary?”
“You gonna let me in?” he rasps.
You shrug and step away from the door, and he shuffles inside. He looks around like you’ve changed anything (you haven’t), before turning around to face you.
You close the door and stare back.
He folds his arms. “Breaking up with someone over text is tacky.”
What you think is, So you’ve come to do it in person, but what you say is, “Can’t break up if you’re not together.”
He winces and runs his fingers through his hair.
“Yeah…apparently I’ve ‘taken advantage' of you.”
This…isn’t what you’re expecting.
“I…what?”
“Can we sit down?”
You nod, and Mary sits rigidly on the edge of your couch. You curl up in the chair on the opposite side.
He rubs his palms down his greasy jeans before he speaks.
“I mean…you pissed me off, ok?”
You nod.
“But, like—you weren’t wrong, ok? I kinda knew that deep down, but I’m a dumbass, you know?”
You don’t nod.
“And I kinda bitched about the whole thing…but the resounding response was that I was the asshole.”
He angles his body toward you.
“I guess I’ve kinda been treating you like my best friend that I fuck sometimes.”
Your entire face flushes—you’d always thought you’d maybe ranked a little higher than that—and you duck your head so he can’t see the tears that you blink back.
There’s a swish of fabric, and you startle hard when Mary’s hand is at your chin. He jerks back with a Sorry.
“Shit—that’s not what I…” he blows out a breath and puts his hands behind his head before looking back up at you.
“But you aren’t, and…fuck this is harder than I thought.”
So this is it.
Waiting for him to do the deed is clearly going to be excruciating, so you take charge of this whole shit-show.
“I understand,” you say flatly.
“You do?”
“It’s ok, Mare-Mary. It’s my own fault for reading too much into it. I just…I saw what I wanted to see, I guess. I know you don’t need…” you look down into your lap, “…my shit in your life.
He makes a noise low in his throat, and then he’s squatting in front of you, his hot hands planting on your knees.
“But I want your shit in my life.”
You squint your eyes at him.
“But what I said…”
He grasps your hands in his.
“Pissed me off, yeah…cuz I wasn’t fucking thinking, ok? You’re like one of the only people who gives a crap about what’s important to me. And all I could see was you suddenly…not.”
Anger wells up in you again, and you yank away your hands.
“Weeks, Mary…weeks of you all over the tri-state area, and you thought I didn’t care because of one night?! A night you promised to me?”
He sits back on his heels. “I know…fuck. Ok? At the time, it just felt…like the show couldn’t be rescheduled. Our night could.”
Because you’re what he does when he’s bored.
You curl in on yourself.
“Shit.” He leans forward again. “Fuck, I’m sorry, ok? I’m fucking on my knees here.”
You blink at him.
What?
“Please, please don’t break—say we’re done.”
“What?”
“Look, we can go into my shitty fucking psychological profile on why I fuck around later…but right now I need you to know that I knew it was you before I fucking knew it was you.”
You uncurl.
“That…’what’ was me?”
He knees forward and presses your hands to his face.
“The one I wanna spend my free time with. The one whose opinion means the most. The one who was the first person I wanted to share all my good shit with. You’re the one I missed, and—after that awful fucking night—everything felt pointless because I knew I couldn’t come over and jam about it.”
“Mare—what are you saying?”
“I’m saying I’m a fucking dumbass. I’m saying I thought I was pissed at you, but I was pissed at myself for fucking it up.” He sighs. “I’m saying no fucking one was on my side and they all told me to get my shit together.”
He looks up at you with wide eyes, and for the first time, you can see how they’re outlined in red, his subtle crow’s feet more pronounced.
“So, you’re not done with me? I’m not…too much trouble?”
He shakes his head in disbelief. “What? Shit, no. I’m asking you to not be done with me. I’ll give you all the nights you want. Fucking text me, and my ass’ll be here posthaste.” He shifts up, and his thumb ghosts over your lips. “Anything to get you to give me that secret smile again.”
“Secret smile?” you ask while trying to perform the action.
Mary actually blushes.
“Uh…yeah. You get this…” he makes a motion across his face, “…when you’re giving it back to me.” His fingers shove back through his hair as he casts his eyes down. “You don’t give it to anyone else.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’ve made a study of it.”
You’re a swirl of emotions. Mary’s apologized—has admitted he was wrong and has asked for…more—but you’re still hurt. And embarrassed.
But he’s looking up at you with wet, hopeful eyes.
“Do you…” you start carefully, “…do you know why I got so mad?”
That statement was clearly not what he was expecting, and he blinks at you a few times before nodding and looking down at the floor.
“I made a…uh, commitment…to you. And I treated it like it didn’t mean anything.”
He gives you a look like, Did I get it right? and that’s close enough—even if he’s missing some of the nuance.
You nod. “And I know I…wasn’t…the best.”
His face contorts, and your heart sinks.
“You…” he shakes his head. “You said some awful things…some hurtful shit—and it really got in my head.”
Mary gives you a complicated look.
“Shit that you’d been pissed about for a while.” He traces your knee. “Shit you could’ve said to me…but shit I should have noticed. Fuck.” He presses his forehead into your knees, and you can’t stop yourself from sinking your fingers into his hair.
He takes it as encouragement and presses into you before looking up again.
“I just kinda wanna put that whole night behind us. It feels like a fucking ouroboros of fault. And like maybe I created it. But let’s agree to like…not do that again.”
You look down at him, and his eyes search your face.
“Ok…but what does all this mean, Mare? I can’t…I need to be something to you, ok? More than just your friend.”
Mary nods emphatically, and he takes your hand and curls his into it.
“No more fuck-ups, and no one else…can we start there?”
He’s saying all the right words, but you’re still trepidatious—you know Mary, and he doesn’t like constraints.
“I…just…how can I believe you?”
He shakes his head like he can’t believe you even have to ask. He rises and awkwardly reaches out to touch your face before drawing his hand back.
“Cuz you’re important to me. I care about you, and I don’t want to lose you. Ever.”
And yeah. Ok.
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Dr Jekyll or Mr. Hyde (3/?)
Part three: the gift
Spencer Reid x Female Reader
Summary: The next meeting rolls around and Reader tries to get Spencer to open up in baby steps. Turns out he was more willing to let her in than she first expected.
Part One, Part Two
Series Masterlist
A/N: Heyyy this is my third part for Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde!!! It’s also the fifteenth installment of my 30 fics in 30 days for April event! The plot is finally about to pick up y’all!!!! I’ve got so many plans where this series is headed (though I don’t know necessarily where it’s going to end) and I’m really excited!!! This chapter brings in other references from non gothic literature as well which was fun to do- these references and metaphors are really fun to craft. I’m curious to see y’all’s reaction to this part- leave me an ask if you want here (I promise I won’t bite 🧛🏻♀️) Thanks for reading and hope y’all enjoy!!
Warnings: 18+, Smut, Soft dom Spencer that turns back into slightly mean dom Spencer, Public sex, Masturbation (F), Oral sex (M receiving), Face fucking, Reader has a nickname- I think that’s it let me know if there needs to be anything else
Main Masterlist Word Count: 4.1k 😱
A meeting of the classics was once again scrawled on the whiteboard when you entered the library. It had the usual time 7pm to 11:30pm written right underneath. Instantly you fell down the rabbit hole and into another world, reality was turned on its head whenever you opened those wooden doors. Every encounter you had in the shelves, in the reading rooms, and even at the information desk seemed like you were walking into a world crafted by a surrealist. Everything was just slightly twisted and turned to feel slightly off from the reality outside those doors. It oddly made you feel more at home than your own apartment.
Each time a meeting rolled around you’d get an email notification a few weeks prior, informing you as to what the theme would be. The book club was already more extravagant than any other you had ever heard before, adding to the surrealist nature of where you were located. Last time was a somewhat lavish affair, this time it was coated in fleeting luxury.
Sure, the 1920s theme with the undeniable tinge of influence from The Great Gatsby would always lend itself to luxury, even with cheap decorations. But, the way the decor around you almost felt real told you exactly what your monthly entrance fee was going towards. You could complain about the steep price of admission, it could burn a hole into your wallet if you weren’t so careful. At any rate it did not matter, you were sure they wouldn’t care if you complained, and besides this was the only thing you really every splurged on. Plus there was the added aspect of the person you would no longer be able to indulge in if you let your membership lapse.
It was nice to treat yourself, get a taste of what it would be like to live basking in luxury 24/7. Flutes of champagne were passed around like hot cakes, admittedly they were non alcoholic after an incident a few months prior before you joined with some whiskey. It could have been a rumor fed to you by some of the vapid attendees to stir the pot so the library may cave to make their guests happy. You were going to keep your mouth shut because truth be told you didn’t mind that they were non alcoholic. You wanted to be sober for this. You wanted to be sober for Spencer.
Normally whenever a meeting rolled around you’d gladly be mingling with everyone around you. Even if personally you viewed some of their insights on whatever book they wished to discuss as shallow, seeing another’s perspective was always intriguing.
Something, namely someone, lurking in the shadows had your attention instead. It felt strikingly similar to the night of your first encounter, his eyes piercing into you, undressing you with them. The only thing that had changed is that you knew his name with some small added details. You didn't even know what type of Doctor he was, let alone what kind of man he was. But, you hoped tonight might change your prospects.
You had gotten a peek underneath the mask each time, just enough to pull you in closer. Whatever might lurk beneath, which still may be dangerous, for right now made you thrum with excitement. Spencer was just as surreal to you as the rest of the library, though he was definitely more shadowy than the others. It wouldn’t surprise you if he wasn’t real outside of here.
He could possibly just be a ghost trapped to roam the halls that instead of wanting to scare you, pleasured you. It was a silly thought for sure, but until he divulged more you struggled to convince yourself that he was real, even though his touch certainly did. The world was very different outside the library’s doors and you’d be content to be locked inside of it, that is if Spencer opened his own doors.
You circled each other for a while, neither of you talking to anyone, just staring with lust in your eyes. Tired of this cat and mouse game that you were unwilling to break out of stubbornness, he set down an empty ‘champagne’ flute to weave through the crowd to meet you.
No small talk or pleasantries came out of his mouth when he started your first conversation of the night, “At least you fit the theme this time.”
He had gestured to the dress you had chosen, a simple fringed red dress that very obviously was inspired by the era. It definitely gave you a sense of allure that leaned dark along with your dark lipstick, giving you your own cloak of mystery to match Spencer’s. At least there was a cloak for everyone else; Spencer could read you like an open book even with all your secrets. Spencer just had the ability to speed read them faster than any other human.
There was still depth to you, seemingly boundless, and certainly much more than the staple embodiment of a 1920s woman at a party being eyed at by man. You were no Daisy Buchanan that’s for sure, and Spencer was no Gatsby from what you have seen.
“As I told you last time I did fit the theme, Spencer.” You kept your lips shut tight about the fact that you had partially chosen this dress for him, picking a much more historically accurate style within your budget. Skating around the topic with ease you then teased, “Was that your way of complimenting my dress?”
“No…” That definitely meant yes, just by going off of the way he eyed your curves.
“At least you have it easy, you only have to throw on a suit, which is boring.” He snorted at that and didn’t disagree with your stinging jab at men’s fashion.
“That’s true, I don’t think I would want to see you in a boring suit, Shelley.” Inching closer to you so he possessively put a hand on your waist. He was close enough now that you could feel his breath on the exposed skin on your neck, a shiver trickling down your spine at that. His next words had a different reaction from you, your panties getting damp immediately after, “A dress has easier- access.”
The conversation turned from your typical banter into innuendos covered in mystery just like you both, with Spencer’s not being an act like you were trying to put on. You could let him do whatever he wanted to you again, which you thoroughly enjoyed, but there was a lingering fantasy you hadn’t voiced that had been in your head since he pinned you against the shelves.
“You didn’t let me reciprocate last time.” You whispered into his ear, your dirty intentions hidden by innocent words. The people around you had no idea what was going on, still milling about while you leaned in closer, only a few people looking over at you both curiously before moving on. Your next move was bold, wrapping your hand around his tie to pull him in closer, so you could keep your request a secret for his ears alone, “Will you allow me to return the favor?”
By the way his face twisted up at your words you knew you were testing a limit. All of your encounters thus far had been him touching you, not you touching him.
“Thought you would have forgotten about that by now.” This was his attempt to change the subject, to move on and expect that you’ll drop it just like him.
Everyone you knew called you stubborn for a reason, gripping his tie even harder you then doubled down, “Will you let me?”
It was highly unlikely that you were going to get a verbal response to your request, most likely you were about to get rejected, hard. You had tested your limits throughout your small time together. This however was entirely different and potentially over the line as to what Spencer would willingly allow.
Instead of shutting you out and shutting down he surprised you by opening his mouth to form the word, “Yes.”
With that you started to tug him out of the room, discreetly of course to not attract any unwanted attention and you didn’t pull him by his tie. Your fingers were wrapped around his wrist delicately, his first taste of you touching him while you guided him to a spot for your clandestine affair.
Your eagerness made you too impatient to wait and find a better secluded spot away from the crowd. The corner you chose was beyond risky to say the least, only a wall separating the both of you and the club guests. If you were lucky and went quickly you’d avoid being caught.
You wondered how long it had been since someone had offered to do this for him, instead of him probably forcing them to their knees while he continued to control the encounter with their consent. His steadfast control over each time he touched you had never wavered up until this point.
“You tell me if you want me to stop.”
He gulped hard, giving you a look like he was considering stopping you. Ultimately he kept his mouth shut, letting you drop to your knees and begin to unbutton his slacks. You worked quickly, unsure how much time you had without being caught in this little corner barely off to the side you chose or how long Spencer would let you touch him with impunity.
You hadn’t been able to really get a good look at his cock, either you had been facing away from it or it was trapped in the confines of the slacks he always wore. When you freed him from his boxers you could not help but admire it, even if only for a second.
Beautiful was an odd way to describe a cock, but there was no other word you could really find in the moment while you were on your knees. He was already hard, even leaking at the tip, and all from a few teasing words from your mouth. You’d have to test your affect on him more in the future, it obviously excited him.
When you held it in your hands and licked him from his base to tip, he had to bite on his fist at the suddenness of your touch. You pumped him a few times languidly before bringing the head to your lips and letting it slip into your mouth. He was allowing you to explore without fear of any repercussions. His hand that now rested at the back of your head being the only signal that he could take back the control anytime he wanted.
When you began to bob your head a wave of new precum hit your tongue. The taste of Spencer on your tongue was to put it lightly, intoxicating, you’d be content to taste him everyday if he let you.
Hoping too much would be your downfall if you let it, you pushed it out of your mind so you could be content with the baby steps forward you were taking. This right here, was him being vulnerable, even with you on his knees. You’d have to tread carefully if you wanted another crack in his mask to see even his darkest features, not a chink in his armor that would have him running away injured.
You weren’t sure what made the energy shift in the corner you were on your knees in, you suspected it was the soft caress of your hand along his thigh. He clammed up, suddenly wanting to take back control of the situation, no longer content with being vulnerable. It was quite clear to you that he saw giving up his control as a moment of weakness, just by going off of the once content look on his face that had twisted and seized up in frustration. Whatever he would let you do to him or whatever he wanted to do to you would always leave you wet with desire. It would however, be a lie to say that you didn’t want to see him back in a similar position one day. Getting him to be vulnerable for any extended period of time, even if it was while you were on his knees for him in a typical position for submission, was a form of progress. A little bit twisted, yes, but it still was progress.
Control fell back easily into his hands, now wasn’t the time to fight him on it; you’d be a good girl for now. The hand that had been resting gently on the back of your head tightened its grip to start controlling the pace.
You let your hand let go of his cock, resting them both on his thighs now instead. Your eyes were glassy as you tried to meet his sable irises while he began to thrust into your mouth. All you could really see was his Adam’s apple bobbing, curls falling as his head tipped back with his jaw slack. At first his thrusts had tested the waters, to see how much you could take. They then became more forceful when you gripped his thighs through his slacks and tried to pull him close.
The corner you had pulled him into was more exposed than any previous dalliance. Last time, even though it was out in the open, the stacks of shelves piled high with books shielded you along with his body pinned on top of yours. In comparison, this time you could hear the people laughing and mingling about in the next room over.
That only made you keen, moaning around him softly when you heard someone start a conversation close to the shared wall. Spencer, ever astute to your actions, picked up on what had you moaning around him. He forced your head down as far as you could go, your nose almost nuzzling the hairs at his base. He held you there harshly for a moment while he spoke, “You like it when we’re close to getting caught don’t you? That’s why you chose this spot isn’t it? You aren’t just satisfied with sneaking around, you want to get caught doing it.”
Before you could confirm or deny his questions you had to pull off of him so you could catch your breath. A string of spit connected from your mouth to the top of his cock remained unbroken until he brought his thumb to your mouth so you could continue to suck on something. He bent down to look at you, inspecting your makeup melted by tears and your spit covered lips. When he then moved his thumb from out of your mouth to grip your cheeks hard you whimpered, wondering what you did wrong, “Answer my questions.”
You scrambled to answer to avoid any type of punishment. You couldn’t make him feel good the way you wanted to if he was angry at you. Trying to muster up some conviction failed as your answer still came out shaky, “Y-yes! I-I liikeee it, Doctor!”
Satisfied with your answer and the amount of time your break had been he let go of the grip on your cheeks to resume. He slipped back inside your mouth swiftly, seeing no need to start out slow again. This time when you looked up, you found him meeting your irises with his own making you squirm underneath his piercing gaze.
“Touch yourself, we don’t have time for both of us.” With any other man you would have been irritated because mostly likely they were unwilling to finish a girl off. Spencer however, had proven he was consistently capable of that from you two previous interactions. He was also right, the place you had chosen was going to be flooded with people soon as they left the party. It was around this time that a group of people got bored and left which you didn’t understand. Why would they pay the money if they were just going to leave early?
You maneuvered your hands underneath the fringed edge of your dress, then bypassing your panties by pushing them to the side. There was no need to tease yourself, sucking off Spencer had you soaking through your flimsy lace panties. You pushed two of your fingers inside your entrance, curling them to deliciously hit at that sweet spot inside you. Even though you were enjoying the way he fucked your face in combination with you touching yourself, your fingers didn’t feel as euphoric as Spencer’s long fingers that could pull an orgasm out of you in seconds.
Spencer was nearing his release, his hips stuttering as it came closer. More tears prickled at the corner of your eyes out of frustration that you were having trouble reaching the edge with your own fingers. Spencer of course saw your frustration and began to coax you to the edge,
“Come on Shelley I know you can do it, I know you can make yourself cum for me.” Spencer’s words weren’t nearly as good as your fingers, but it did help that final push towards the edge. Falling over the edge together was a heady feeling, pleasure sparking through your veins while Spencer filled your mouth. You focused on swallowing it all down as best as you could, only a bit escaping the sides of your mouth.
When it was all said and done Spencer tucked himself back into his boxers, then rebuckling the belt holding his slacks up. He then outstretched a hand towards you, who was crumpled on the floor looking absolutely ruined. It was a simple gesture, taking his hand so you didn’t wobble on your heels as much. To you however it seemed like a weighted moment, subtly showing that you were willing to take whatever he may give to you.
He then suddenly pushed a book in your hands, which came seemingly out of thin air, only soon after you had cleaned up the corners of your mouth by licking your lips. You had been just about to clean the remnants of your makeup that was streaming down your cheeks with a makeup wipe that had been in your purse. He had other plans, putting the book in your hands and grabbed the wipe from you. He began to use the wipe to clean you off, caressing your cheeks softly this time. His movements were gentle as the cleanser in the cloth, every gentle touch that came directly after the hard made you want to fall into the dark abyss with him. You had almost moved forward to kiss him until he unintentionally stopped you by starting to wipe your smeared lipstick off. Once he was done with that you then looked down at the book he had forced you to take.
“What is this?” Your brows furrowed in question at the unexpected gift. Your relationship had a loose definition, really none at all, to get a gift felt like it was supposed to mean something. He had gifted you something in the past, the nickname you now couldn’t seem to shake, and you supposed the multiple orgasms could be classified as gifts to some.
This felt bigger than that, at least to you. But, how were you supposed to know what his train of thought was when you didn’t know anything about him. Most of what you did know contradicted each other anyway. There was no way to predict a man who had two distinct sides of him, neither of which he’d divulge more than surface level information about.
“I thought it was quite obvious, it’s a book.” His nonchalant response through you for a loop, causing you to stammer a bit. However, he did not let you form a complete thought, steamrolling you with sudden excitement, “An old copy of Frankenstein to be exact, Shelley.”
Looking down you traced your fingers over the spine on the vintage book. You weren’t sure how old the book was, you’d have to check that later. It wasn’t that you didn’t see the potential value in owning an old edition of a book, but the gesture still confused you. Instead of dwelling on a question that you weren’t going to get a straight answer for if you asked, you tried to tease him, “But I have already read it, you know that.”
He took your jab at his listening skills in stride and again was cagey as always with his response, “I do know that, that isn’t why I bought it for you.”
“Why?”
“That is for me to know, and for you to potentially figure out.” He was now moving to leave the corner, about to leave you hanging in the wind scrambling to figure out whatever he was talking about. You scrambled to follow, which caused you to almost crash into him when he abruptly stopped. “I’ll give you a hint, flip to page 56.”
Flipping it open to the page you noticed that it wasn’t a page of any significance, no famous quotes were highlighted or major climactic scenes happening.
“There isn’t anything in here.” Exasperation was evident in your voice, he was too hard to read, certainly not as hard as the book in front of you. His intentions were the hardest to figure out, he could be stringing you along in his web, bringing you closer until he devoured you like a spider with a fly.
The air itself was filled with monsters, more like potential monsters lurking waiting to reveal their intentions. The dark was often desirable, but it would be naive of you to trust it without question. There was still something about Spencer that made you want to blindly trust without question that his monsters had beauty in them. You couldn’t deny that being devoured by him sounded enticing.
“Look again.” And with a fleeting kiss on your lips that he was gone, slipping back into the party like nothing had happened. It left you to wait until he graced you with his presence next with no way to contact him. At least that’s what you thought until you followed his suggestion and looked again.
There, nestled in between two pages of the book rested a strip of paper. The handwriting on it was messy, slanted heavily in one direction and partially smudged as if written rapidly. You could still make out the ten digits written in navy blue ink, your breath caught up in your throat at that.
At the bottom there was a simple dash then right next to it read his name, Spencer. With no titles or anything else written.
The simplicity of his name written sloppy in pen ink made you want to clutch it to your heart in disbelief. The book already was too much, to big a gesture for what was supposed to just be fucking in the library while saying clever things. You wondered if he had thought this through, thinking that by the state of how it was written it was done impulsively without thought. Though you hoped that was just how he always wrote, it would be another small slice of information of who he truly was.
In reality who knows what he was thinking, a mask was still firmly over his face in front of you. It may have had cracks that gave you glimpses at the man underneath, but it would be a lie to say you even knew the slightest bit about him beyond his name. There were some dots you could connect that may lead to somewhere or nowhere. You didn’t even know what his job was, so you weren’t going to pretend that you could properly analyze his handwriting. He could even be lying about every piece of information given thus far, only using it to pull you in quicker by the spider’s silk he was potentially spinning.
All that was still locked up there in his mind, not unlike when Jekyll locked himself up in his laboratory. You only hoped this phone number signaled that he may be willing to open up his mind to you, even with the serum that could turn him into something dark. He could shut you out, insisting that what he had done was a mistake, then sealing the cracks in his mask closed. But, you were too curious for your own good, you wanted to shatter the mask, to pull away the shroud of mystery, to tell you about the monsters lurking. All you had to do was call him, and maybe he’d let the monsters free.
Part One, Part Two
Ask Me Anything
—-
Tag lists (fill this out to join): Strike through means tumblr won’t let me tag you
All works: @shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @boxofsparklingmuses @takeyourleap-of-faith All MGG characters: @muffin-cup @willowrose99 @princesssmooshie @peterpanouat @anaagraceeberr @ashcakes1918 @reid-me-a-story Spencer Reid/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes @onlyhereforthefanfics @jareauswifey @princesssmooshie @peterpanouat Dom!Spencer: @rainsong01 @evlfknb @jakobsdump @princesssmooshie @peterpanouat Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde: @rainsong01 @dreatine @secretpickleprofessordean @evlfknb
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3AM
Pairing: Leo West x Female Reader
Summary: You should go home, but you always end up in his room and this time he isn’t letting you walk away from him again.
Warnings: Smut 18+ (consensual sex, unprotected sex, oral [female receiving], hand job, vaginal fingering, cum play, cock warming and dirty talk). Pillow talk. Language. Angst, I guess. & mentions of alcohol.
Disclaimer: Minor elements of the film Ibiza (2018) are present in this. More like one or two out of context spoilers. It wouldn’t really ruin the movie. You don’t have to watch it to read this.
Title Inspiration: “3AM” by You Me At Six
A/N: I caved. I’ve finally written something for one of Richard Madden’s characters. Personally, I would’ve never watched Ibiza, but it was on Netflix, I was on furlough from my job, and quite frankly Leo West is fucking perfect.
Deep breaths. Deep and calculated breaths. For some reason you paid more attention to your breathing when inebriated. Your eyelids felt extra heavy as you struggled to not only keep them open, but also your line of vision straight. The pores of your body were seeping out sweat from the copious amount of alcohol you’d consumed. The air was stuffy, and you kept sniffling.
You wanted to blame the last part solely on the alcohol too, but you couldn’t escape the real reason that drove you to spend hours at a bar in the first place. Historically speaking, you liked to enjoy yourself, maybe a bit more than others, and while it was reckless, that lifestyle introduced you to one of your favorite things on this planet. It wasn’t the drinks, the substances or the sex, but a humble, very talented now turned international superstar DJ.
It led you to Leo West.
It was at a small, dark club on a busy weekend. You were closing in on finals week and what better way to de-stress than a night out on the street. Your friends opted for this particular joint because of the aesthetic, but you didn’t care about its appearance. It was a bar nonetheless, the place always catered to live music and you loved that.
You remembered how puzzling it was to not see the usual instruments, like that of a guitar or a drum kit or a set of keyboards or even a lone microphone stand on the makeshift stage that had one dimmed spotlight. Instead, there was just a table with a case, a laptop, a turntable and a pair of headphones displayed on top of it. Oh, and lots of wires and buttons and knobs everywhere!
Great. A wannabe DJ was scheduled tonight that would most likely go overkill on the bass and damage your eardrums. You weren’t drunk enough to stick around for this, so you walked back to the bar, hoping if you got a few more drinks in you then maybe the “DJ” wouldn’t sound as bad as you were expecting.
Claiming a spot, drink in hand, your eyes started scanning the small capacity crowd until they locked on a man and his path up to the stage and behind the setup. The intro music he picked out started playing, but it fell deaf on your ears. And your whole world just stopped when he looked up, the first of many “performer-to-audience” eye contact that night. He just couldn’t keep his eyes off you each time he looked into the small crowd. It all but allowed you a better look at him.
He wasn’t as defined back then, the t-shirt hung loose on his body, but he was still built nicely. His hair was curlier, definitely didn’t have the money to have it styled and cut or dyed, no trace of the signature gray streak in the front, nor was it maintained like it was now. He was very handsome. And his voice, when he spoke into the microphone clumsily, your heart melted. He wasn’t from here, and you wondered how the world brought this cute, awkward guy all the way from Scotland here to you.
When his set ended, he appeared next to you at the bar ordering a drink. He looked over at you and smiled sheepishly. He was adorable. You were done. You were always a confident person, and you mentally cursed yourself for even feeling like this. You didn’t do serious relationships. There just wasn’t any time for one in your life right now. You were young, still are, and the only thing you’d wanted from anyone was a distraction here and there.
He told you his name. You told him yours. He commented on the necklace you were wearing. You complimented his set. You even teased him about seeing him trip over one of his wires. He thought no one was paying attention, but you were. The two of you talked and talked until last call and the bartenders were begging you both to leave so they could close up shop.
That led you to his place. You learned he’d transferred from overseas to study music and was looking to break out in this country. He wanted to make it big time. You admired him for that. Then there you were pathetically telling him your small-town goals, it seemed dull compared to his, but Leo never wanted to make you feel that way as his words assured you that they weren’t and only encouraged you further.
The attraction wasn’t lost between you two either. You didn’t go home that night. You stayed and what was supposed to be one turned into many nights tangled in one another. You frequented his bed often to the point it looked official to everyone - except it never was. Leo made it loud and clear he wanted to be with you, but you kept bypassing his proclamations. He became none but a standby in your haze.
He just made it too easy to feel. With him everything was easy; not a care in the world, just you and him. It could and should be just that - easy - but your heart and mind didn’t ever make it that way for you. They wanted two different things. Your heart wanted Leo, but your mind said it wasn’t worth it.
He’d make it big one day, no doubt about that. He got good each and every set you saw him put on. He’d travel more, settle in a much more exciting area, find someone who could commit and keep up with his new life. You knew it wouldn’t be fair to have Leo wait around for you to change, but getting your shit together was something you had to do at your own pace.
Once you graduated and his advancements were becoming a bit more serious, you started to turn a new leaf. You did it to be a better version of yourself for him because he deserved it that much, but he always claimed he wanted you – whatever version he could have. At least that’s what he had you convinced of up until you saw him lock eyes and signal over to another girl in the massive crowd several hours ago.
What the fuck? That was your whole reaction. How could he? He always said no matter how big the numbers he played, he’d always and only see you. He didn’t look anywhere else besides her during the set, well you didn’t care anymore because you left after seeing them walk to the back. Did he not mean a single word he said to you? All those nights in bed, was it all just pillow talk? Figures. You didn’t want to get upset because you let it come to this.
In that moment, you just couldn’t forget all the pretty lies. You’re mindlessly scrolling through the messages on your phone, until your blurry eyes see his name and the distinct emoji assigned next to it. Based on the thread, you thought you were both heading towards the same page. It shouldn’t have been this complicated. Now all that’s left is yourself staring down at an old text message he sent, no longer wondering if he really meant any word of it. It hurt. It really fucking hurt.Your mind was proven right and now your heart paid the price.
“Miss? We’re here.” You pick up your head that was slumped against the side of the cab window and nod in acknowledgement.
You stuff your phone in your purse, pay for your fare, stumble along the stones of the pavement, on the steps of the complex and into the elevator up to the highest floor. You stare at the numbers on the door, hoping they’d line up and still, before you slip the spare key card into the slot and barge right into the suite.
You walk right out of your heels, and on your path to the glass doors and window, you aimlessly toss your purse over the expensive couch, and expertly reach for the zipper behind your back, dragging it down along the dress you were wearing, allowing it to pool at your ankles only for you to kick it away soon after. Forget the fact that you splurged a bit more than usual on it in hopes for a celebration of some sort.
When you stepped outside, you headed straight into the hot tub that also provided an overlook of the city. As you slowly descend neck deep into the hot water, you close your eyes and lean your head back on the edge, feeling the muscles in your body begin to loosen up. The jet streams of the hot tub that caused the bubbles collided headfirst with your back, and a taste of the midnight air in your face, all offered you only a temporary high. You used to think the hot tub was a bit too much at the time, but now you were basking in it.
For a moment you think you could just pass out right there, when you hear him say your name from behind. Your eyes flutter open and you hear the floorboards lightly creek with the thuds of his heavy footsteps as he makes his way to sit on the edge of one side of the rectangular tub. You don’t dare divert your eyes over in his direction just yet.
“It’s 3 a.m.” Leo states; an all too familiar scene for the both of you, and even though you’re not looking at him you can hear the concern in his voice. You roll your eyes at the obvious, not giving a damn if he saw, and then at the idea of him being concerned about you.
He senses the discomfort in the air and is hesitant in choosing what he should say next. He hated being on your bad side and judging by your demeanor you were mad. “You should probably go home,” he suggests after getting no response from you.
Only when he moves to get up and fetch a nearby towel, you turn your head and speak, “Why? Is she here?” It meant to come out as casual, but it came out more spiteful.
The muscles of his back contract and he visibly tenses at your cold tone. “What?” Leo questions, turning his head to look over his shoulder.
“I saw you!” You say, sitting up straight and getting ready to step out of the tub.
Leo is quick to assist you as he his entire body spins around, a rolled up towel in hand, “You’re not thinking straight-” he says and attempts to cover you up, but you snatch the towel from him and help yourself out of the tub. Water sloshes around as Leo puts his hands out, eyeing your every move the whole time in fear of you slipping and falling.
He follows you back into the suite and calls out your name again, but hearing it flow out of his mouth in his voice starts to hurt more and more.
“I’m not fucking blind, Leo!” You shout, whipping around and with your hands out in frustration.
“Shh! Please. The neighbors are sleeping!” He pleads, grabbing you by your wrist bringing them in and pulling you close to him. Your face is almost nose-to-nose with his, but you lean your head back just slightly in defiance.
“I. Don’t. Give. A. Fuck.” You say in a more indoor friendly volume, emphasizing each word, effectively letting him how mad you still were. The close proximity gives him a whiff of the alcohol on your breath. You were drunk. He thought you’d stopped this destructive habit.
“I don’t get you,” he says barely above a whisper. It wasn’t meant to come out, but his thoughts always left his mind around you.
“Me?” you ask quizzically, noticing the strong look of confusion etched all over his pretty face, “I don’t get you, Leo,” you couldn’t hold it in anymore, “you begged me to come watch your set tonight,” pulling one of your wrists out from his grip, poking a finger at his chest.
“You said you were busy with work-“ he says then grabbing the loose hand stabbing at him in his larger one.
“I wanted to surprise you,” you explain, voice cracking under it all, “I didn’t think it was going to work because you said,” the atmosphere grows thick and you struggle to speak, “you said no matter how big of a crowd you were playing that you’d always see me, but you didn’t.” You always had a pretty good idea that Leo would wait for you, but when he failed to spot you tonight, you really thought you’d lost him for good this time.
Then he understood why you were upset. You saw him make signals to another woman and take her backstage, where all he was trying to do was help the poor girl and tell her she had a penis drawn on her face with a black light marker. He never saw her again after that. All that did was paint the wrong picture in your eyes.
Leo looked down, breaking the intense eye contact. It was probably best he didn’t see the tears in the corner of your eyes that were threatening to fall, but he didn’t cast his gaze away fast enough as they ran down in streaks, staining your face. He just didn’t know where to start.
You had been there for him tonight. He’d been really happy lately, especially when you started responding and returning his gestures. He thought he was finally going somewhere with you. And here you are, revealing you’d sacrificed and made time to see him play and he didn’t even see you. That led you down to a bar and into an old habit you’d gotten rid of lately, but he just threw you back into the pit unintentionally.
“I should go home,” you say, defeated and breaking away from him. You wipe at your face, trying to clear the make-up that was out of place and turn to pick up your discarded dress off the floor.
“No, don’t. Don’t leave me,” Leo says frantically reaching out for you. Another act within the all too familiar scene; he always hated this part and seeing it replay over and over. All those times you walked out, scared of something, he wasn’t going to let it happen again. He stumbles a bit as he manages to grab your arm to turn you back and face him. You brace a hand on his strong chest preventing yourself from crashing right into him.
Deep breaths. Deep and calculated breaths. You’re counting not yours but his breaths this time. You can feel his heart racing as you stare at his plump lips, parted and each exhale fanning against your face. His hands come up to cradle your face; and while alcohol had its way with making parts of your body feel numb, you always felt his touches. It was the best feeling.
Leo was always transparent with you and was nothing short of it in this moment as he crashed his lips into yours. He’d never been as desperate than he was now. The grip on your face was secure, hoping you wouldn’t attempt to escape again. He didn’t have to worry though because you were tired of fighting it. You’d bare yourself to him.
Your arms wrapping around his neck let him know you weren’t going anywhere this time, and he was able to let one hand reach down between your bodies to remove the towel. His touch sends shivers throughout your body as you rub up against him; your soaked undergarments leave a wet imprint on his dry clothes. His hands travel down to your thighs, giving it a light squeeze, signaling for you to jump up.
He carries you to his bedroom, lips never parting, until he has you lying down on the massive bed. He kisses you all over - your neck, collarbones, between your breasts, down your naval, hip bones, and the insides of your thighs - each kiss feels like a drug shooting through your system.
Leo tests the waters by pressing a finger to your clothed core and upon seeing the slight jolt of your hips, it gives him all the encouragement he needed to tug the damp article of clothing down your legs. He spreads your legs a bit further apart, pressing them down against the mattress, enough room for his burly body to settle between them.
His tongue darts out to your clit and you suck in a harsh breath of air at the contact. Each running pass of his tongue has you squirming, he has to use both of his hands to keep you still. The vibrations of his moans wreck all throughout your body as he sucks on the bundle of nerves.
Your hands wildly reach out in front of you, messing up his short hair, you need something to hold onto. Leo offers one hand, lacing your fingers together, yours more of a death grip in his. It only loosens when he suddenly stops.
You pick up your head that had dug deep back into the pillows to see why. You groan at the sinful sight of seeing his mouth glistening in all its glory - doused in you. Leo comes back up to level himself with you; both sets of eyes pulled together like magnets. He steadies himself with one hand above your head and the other grabs a hold of your leg, keeping them open for him, so his hand could find a clear path to your pussy.
Your slick makes it easy for him to slip his thick digits in you. Leo revels in the look on your face contorted in pleasure he is bestowing upon you. He inwardly groans at the snug grip around his fingers as he slowly pushes them in-and-out; the filthy, lewd noises only further cause his blood to rush fast down his body.
You start rocking your hips, your clit brushing past his palm with each thrust up. With a curl of his finger, he finds the spot and it's confirmed when you wrap a hand around his wrist to keep it there.
“That’s it, huh, baby?” Leo asks knowing full well he’s found the trigger, “that’s...your...spot,” and with every word his finger sinks in deeper and deeper. There’s a feral look he’s sporting, and you let out a whine in response, your fingernails puncturing his skin.
“You know what to do,” his voice turns rugged, “you know what to do, baby girl,” his fingers working faster, “come on my hand,” his forehead, sweaty, pressing against your own, “you can do it,” his soulful eyes burning a hole through yours when you finally come for him.
“Good fucking girl,” he growls against your lips. You start clawing at his white t-shirt, but it’s fitted so well, you start wrestling with the fabric to get it over his head. He chuckles lightly at you as you pout at him. He kisses the space between your eyebrows and sits up removing his shirt on his own; his bottoms follow ensuite.
You admire the expanse of his toned body for a brief moment before you pull him down back on you. Your teeth tug at his luscious lower lip then suck at it. Leo chases your tongue with his own, engrossed by your lips he’s not prepared for when you sneak a hand in his boxers and grab a hold of his length. He moans into the kiss at the contact and slides his boxers all the way off, giving him a full show of your fingers wrapped around his hard cock. You watch as he swallows the knot in his throat when your thumb swipes across at the bead of pre-cum leaking from the head.
“Yes, baby, just like that,” he says encouragingly as you start stroking him at a pace only you know he loves, “you see how good you make me feel?” It’s a question that doesn’t require an answer. He was hot and heavy in your hands and you wanted nothing more than a taste, so you switch hands bringing the sticky one up to your mouth giving your palm a broad lick as you try to lap you all of what was left of him on your skin.
His jaw visibly ticks as he watches the whole thing. You bring your wet hand back down and resume jerking him off. His breathing increases and you know he wants to cum when he involuntarily starts thrusting back, but he had other things on his agenda as he gingerly pushed your hands away.
“I wanna...inside you,” he says, still very much short of breath, this version of him only made you more wet.
“Please,” you beg, feeling his cock slide up and down your pussy, prepping him with your slick. You never begged, but for some reason you got scared that this would all end in an instance.
You let out a big sigh of relief when he pushes in and fills you up to the brim. Your eyes widen at how his cock stretches you out to accommodate his size. You feel close to bursting at just being able to feel all of him, as he stilled in you, feeling every ridge and vein. He takes a moment to himself, studying the way your body reacts to his. He’s reeling in on the warmth you provided his cock and more so his heart. You made every part of him swell up.
With a long and heavy drag out, Leo begins to thrust back in deep and slow, only increasing when he feels your hips start to retaliate back against his. He knows the pace you like it at.
“Fuck!” You yelp feeling the tip of his cock probe at the right spot.
Leo loops an arm around from beneath you, and at first you think he’s trying to bring you in closer by the hips, but instead he flips over, so you’re now settled on top of him. You support yourself with both hands on his pecs, fingers lost within the hair that sprinkled his chest, then you start grinding your hips deliciously over his. He helps you set a new rhythm with his hands on your hips. You watch as he bites his bottom lip and just the sight alone makes you want to come again.
He sits up, bracing one arm behind him for support, while the other pushes you slightly back, you have to use both hands to support your upper body, but this new position allows you both to get a good look at your bodies connected. Eyes both glued at his cock buried deep in you, you rotate your hips and moan when you feel his cock scratch along your inner walls with each swivel.
“That’s right, you know how to make me feel good...fuck, yes,” he praises then places a thumb to start rubbing circles over your sensitive clit, causing your thighs to clamp up, “that’s it baby, work that pussy on this cock...it’s all yours, beautiful.”
Once he has a good upright position, he uses his other hand to undo the clasp of your bra. He has a hard time trying to rid you of the confines, so you maneuver and sink down back on him and do it yourself. He uses both hands to pull the straps down your arms before bringing your body flush against his and reclaiming your lips.
You let out a sigh as his lips travel down your neck to your breasts, groping one and sucking on the other. Your hands find purchase in his dark sweaty locks as he pistons his hips up hitting deeper.
You pull his face away from your chest and you take note of his glossy eyes, the sweat buildup on his hairline, the creases on his forehead, his swollen lips and you’re in complete awe of just how handsome he’s always been. Leo brings a hand to your face, thumb brushing away the stray tear that escaped your eyes. You slightly turn your head in his palm so your lips can capture his thumb. The same one that was just mere moments ago rubbing circles on your clit.
Leo gasps at the sight, your eyes close from the burst of flavor of yourself on his salty digit. Your hips work harder and your thighs begin to ache. It shows, so Leo starts to pick up on the slack.
“Leo-“ you call out his name after a particular sharp thrust, your labored breathing makes it hard to voice out your desire, but he knew you were close and so was he.
His hands grope your ass as he brings your hips down hard against his, you feel the hairs on his lower abdomen rub against your clit, effectively adding on to the impending sensation.
“Come on, baby. You can do it,” his fingers would definitely leave marks your skin, but you don’t mind it because yours claw at chest, “come on my fucking cock...show me how good it feels, pretty girl.”
You shut him up with a bruising kiss and soon he’s swallowing your moans as your body starts to quake, pussy clenching tight around him. You keep your hips grounded in place when you feel the throb of each spurt of his cum that shoots deep inside you.
Both of you part your lips from one another for some needed air. You’re still experiencing a bit of an aftershock as your walls continue to contract around his cock.
“Ride it out, baby, use my cock,” he says against your lips, and assisting you with small movements up and down his cock, “that’s it. You got it. Fuck, I love you. I love you so much,” he says, wrapping his arms around your body.
Your body falters against him when you don’t fail to notice that he’s started slipping the L-Bomb in his praises. Leo feels drops of water hit his skin and when he opens his eyes, he notices your body shaking still – you’re crying.
“Hey,” he says cradling your face again, “what’s wrong?” He pulls back to inspect your body and see if you were hurt in any way.
You brace his face in both your hands to stop his eyes from wandering from anywhere else but your face. “Did you mean it?” You ask, unable to control the downpour of tears.
Leo stops moving and immediately understands what you’re asking. You’re asking if he meant it when he said you were the only one he’d ever notice. You’re asking if he meant it when he said he’d wait for you. You’re asking if he meant it when he said he loved you.
“Every word,” he confirms.
Overjoyed, you press your lips together in a tight smile, and let the rest of your tears fall. He lets you rest your head on the crook of his neck as he rubbed soothing patterns on your back in attempts to calm you down.
When you do, you pull away and finally say it back, “I love you too, Leo West. I’ve always been in love with you,” and watching the big smile on his face was almost enough to cure you.
He meticulously pulls out of you, slight signs of his cum seeping out and running down your thighs, and helps you off him. You both settle down on the bed, bodies parallel, both on your sides, silently staring at one another. You absentmindedly brushing the gray lock of hair away from his forehead.
“Nothing happened with her,” Leo says breaking the comfortable silence. He wanted to bring tonight to attention because he meant it when he told you previously that he doesn’t bring anyone back home. You almost forgot about tonight but are still relieved to hear him put to rest any suspicious thoughts.
“I’m scared,” you admit. The first step had been admitting you had loved him back this whole time, but you still had to face the fact that you both were on two different schedules and you feared the worst it wouldn’t work out.
“Come with me,” he proposes.
“What?” You ask completely taken back at the offer.
“Come on tour with me,” he says a bit more specifically.
You’d already proven you were willing to drop work for him by showing up at his gig tonight, but were you willing to leave your old life behind to follow his?
Then the biggest smile on Leo’s face confirms everything when you respond, “okay.”
A/N: Leo West is so precious! & for the record, I too would drop everything to follow him. Lol. I may write more Richard Madden fics, idk yet. Please let me know if you liked this or what. Thanks for reading!
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Spinaraki Week Level 2 Day 1: Chase
Give Myself To You
When Spinner had the idea to visit his hometown and show off his old hideaways to Tomura, he thought it would be romantic. He could turn these sad places where he went to cry into secluded havens where he could spend some quality alone time with the love of his life, and do something he's wanted to do since their third date. He was not expecting a neon orange pickup truck to interrupt the date by hurtling towards them at high speed.
In which Spinner's old bullies want to run him over with their truck, Tomura wants to beat the shit out of them for daring to try, and Spinner just wants to pop the question.
~~~~~
This was not how this date was supposed go. Spinner just wanted to show his boyfriend around his hometown, give him a tour of all the isolated spots he would hide away in before he eventually shut himself up inside the Iguchi house. It was gonna be a nice romantic getaway, where the places he associated with some of his worst memories could be re-contextualized as he turned them into secluded little havens where he could woo his boyfriend –and eventually propose to him– in peace.
There they were, sitting together at the edge of the forest that semi-surrounded the town, watching the sun start to set over the hilly meadow that lay below them. Tomura was fully relaxed for once, leaning heavily on his boyfriend as he reminisced about the utter disaster that was the one time they tried to go clubbing, while Spinner was mustering up his courage and fidgeting with the rings in his jacket’s pocket. Just as he turned to face Tomura and was about to start the speech he had been revising in his mind since –admittedly– their third date, he saw the unmistakable neon orange pickup truck that belonged to Spinner’s worst nightmares, Nōtarin, Iyaga, and Rase, speeding in the background. And the truck was gunning straight for them!
“Oh no.”
“Hm, what do you mean ‘oh no’?” asked Tomura, who also uttered an “oh no” once Spinner pointed towards the truck that was now only a hundred meters away. With reflexes that were still etched into his bones after years of dealing with the trio, Spinner clutched his boyfriend close and launched the both of them down the hill in a barrel roll, barely missing the thick tires of the truck as it blew past them.
“What the hell was that shit?” yelled Tomura, as Spinner shot up, grabbed his hand, and lead them towards one of the few trees that dotted the meadow.
“Those are the assholes I told you about, the ones who always went after me. One of them must’ve seen me and recognized me, and now they’re picking back up from where we last left off!”
“You last left off with them trying to turn you into roadkill?!”
As they ducked into the hollow, a chorus of brash voices with heavy country accents boomed across the meadow.
“Shuichi, you purse designer’s wet dream! Why don’t you let us mount your lizard head to the wall like the hunting trophy you are!”
“Nōtarin, I saw someone with him, hey gecko geek, do you mind if we mount your friend too?”
“Damn Iyaga, keep it in your pants. Though to be fair, compared to talon-hands you’d probably be a better fit!”
At this point Tomura was already struggling against Spinner to march out of the hollow and wreak vengeance. “C’mon Spinner, I’ll mount their heads on our base’s wall!”
“Would you just gimme a sec to cool down a bit?!” Tomura relented and stopped squirming, letting Spinner hold him as he tried to stop trembling.
“Ugh, I swear, they always know how to get under my skin. And I really thought I’d be over them by now.”
Tomura turned to face Spinner and squeezed him back, taking his boyfriend’s scaly beak and pressing it into his scarred neck. “You’ll be alright. You’re just a little stuck, I’m right here if you need a push you know.”
Spinner sighed as he nuzzled the curve of Tomura’s shoulder. “I know I’m not the pinnacle of dating material but damn, people can have different tastes.”
Tomura snorted, “Oh please, as if those hillbilly bitches know anything about ‘good taste’. If your loyalty and empathy for empty husks like me aren’t enough to prove ‘em wrong, then you having the muscles to be able to wield a giant ‘fuck you’ sword should’ve done the job. The fact they can’t see any of that just shows that their IQ scores are all in the negatives.”
Looking up and seeing Tomura’s self-assured smile, the smile graced his face whenever he was so sure that he was right, knowing that he truly believed that his boyfriend was really all that, melted Spinner’s heart into a puddle of goo.
“Marry me.”
Maybe melted it a little too much.
“Huh?”
Realizing what just came out of his mouth, Spinner blushed violently and tried to start some damage control. “Uh shoot I mean um-”
“Hey Nōtarin, let’s ram into that tree! I think I hear them over there!”
Hearing that brought Spinner back to his senses, and he dragged Tomura out of the hollow, Nōtarin swerving just enough to only nick one of the headlights off the truck before resuming the chase.
“Son of a bitch, I had it all planned out and I messed it up!”
“Had what planned out?” asked Tomura, still in a whirl from what he was pretty sure he heard Spinner blurt just seconds ago.
“You know what, it’s fine, I’ll just do it on the fly. Follow me!”
They booked it across the meadow, Spinner weaving them around the hidden hills and valleys camouflaged beneath the waist-high grass. The truck kept slowly gaining on them, but the constant bangs and thumps of the truck bouncing against the uneven ground and the arguing between the driver and his passengers betrayed how little the tormentors knew about the terrain.
“Dammit, stay still you lizard-fuck!”
“Nah, let him keep running. Makes the chase more exciting!”
“Maybe if you’d gotten your driver’s license, you’d actually be able to hit him Nōtarin!”
“Fuck off Rase!”
Jumping over a particularly thick mud puddle, Spinner finally began the speech that had been previously interrupted.
“I’m sure you already know that I fell for you pretty fast-”
“Understatement of the year, but I’m not one to talk.”
The neon orange paint was splattered with mud, with the new coat of brown getting bigger as the wheels spun, sluggishly making its way through the puddle.
Spinner laughed breathlessly as he continued, “-yeah, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able put how much the love you gave me in return means to me into words. I couldn’t do it even if the ocean was made of ink and the earth was paper, it just wouldn’t be enough.”
“Shuichi…”
“And, well, since I can’t use words, I thought I’d show my devotion with some kind of gift, but I don’t really have much to give you except myself. Still, I’ll give that to you for the rest of my life if you want it.”
By this point they had stopped just a few feet in front of a moss-covered boulder, one that blended in with the green grass and was in the direct pathway of the truck that continued driving towards them at top speed.
Ignoring the oncoming truck, Spinner took Tomura’s other hand into his own, and softly asked, “Tomura, will you marry me?”
The truck hit the rock, skyrocketing up and over the couple. The screams of the driver and his passengers fell on deaf ears as Tomura gazed into bright, cherry-petal eyes and answered the proposal:
“You’re more than enough for me, you’re more than I could ever dream of asking for. Of course I’ll marry you.”
Not even a moment after he accepted, a loud crash echoed across the meadow as the truck collided with the ground, flipping over as it did so. The bullies were quick to exit the wreck and make their way towards the still lovestruck duo to attack them. It was a farce from the start, the newly established fiancés barely paying them any attention as they began to brawl.
“Look at you all smiley and shit,” said Tomura as he kicked Rase across the field.
“Why wouldn’t I be all smiles? I’m gonna get to marry to the love of my life! You should see your face right now, looks like your smile’s gonna split your face in two with how big it is!” exclaimed Spinner, dodging Nōtarin’s sluggish punches with ease.
“Touché, fiancé. I bet you’ve already got a plan for everything that comes next, you gooey romantic.”
“Well, I was thinking we could have a small ceremony, just us and the league. Nothing too fancy, we’d just do the vows, ring exchange, ‘I do’s’, and sealing it with a kiss, all within fifteen minutes tops. That way we can splurge on the reception, the best music-” Nōtarin screamed as his arm was sliced by Spinner’s hunting knife.
“-the most delicious food and drinks-” Nōtarin gurgled as the knife ran through his neck.
“-and a cake so big that’ll make everyone sick. We’d just have to grab someone to officiate the thing and make it official.”
“We can get Giran to do it, he’s got just enough connections that he could make it happen.” Iyaga howled as his chest caved in.
“And for the honeymoon, I was thinking about taking a joyride on the coastline. We could stock up the van and make stops at all the beaches, and maybe get rid of a few heroes along the way if we’re up for it.”
“That sounds good to me, I’m certainly looking forward to having some fun alone time to ourselves!” Tomura cried happily, as Rase joined Iyaga in the pile of dust that lay at his feet.
~
By the time they came down from the high of the fight, the sun was dipping below the tree line, Tomura and Spinner sprawled out next to each other on the bloodstained earth.
“Ah shit,” said Tomura, “I just realized that there goes my future date idea of murdering your hometown bullies.”
Spinner chuckled at his fiancé’s annoyed tone, “That’s okay, we only murdered a couple of them. Next time we can take down the town leaders who encouraged everything, make a day out of it.”
“Hmm, alright, but I’m planning it. It’s only fair.”
Satisfied, Spinner let out a sigh before suddenly sitting up. “Oh right, I gotcha these,” he said as he pulled the rings out of his pocket.
“It’s just a pair of those plastic rings from the arcade we went to a while back, but I figure we’re not gonna wear these for too long because they’re just engagement rings. We can rob a jewelry store together to pick out the wedding rings.”
“Sounds perfect,” said Tomura, as they each took turns slipping the rings onto each other’s fingers. Taking a second to let the presence of a ring on his finger sink in, Tomura smiled and said, “I don’t think I’ve ever been more grateful that Re-Destro only snapped off my first three fingers.”
“Well, that’s one way to say you’re happy to be engaged,” Spinner joked.
“Hm. Then I’ll say it more romantically, just for you.” This time, it was Tomura who took Spinner’s hands into his own as he spoke his piece:
“Shuichi, you are one thing in this world that I could never hate, and the only person I will ever promise myself to. I’ll do whatever it takes to give you the life you want to live. I love you, and I’ll continue to love you until the stars grow cold, and even after that.”
If that speech hadn’t already swept Spinner off his feet, then the deep kiss Tomura initiated sent his heart skyward with how much it fluttered. When they both came down to earth, they went about flipping the thoroughly beat-up truck right side up, and as the last rays of sunlight disappeared beneath the horizon, the newly engaged couple drove off into the ink and lavender sky.
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you’d better look out below
an au where tarrlok leaves the north pole with noatak.
title from arcade fire’s “wake up”. word count: 8k. read on ao3.
trigger warnings for: self-harm, child abuse (implied), violence
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Tarrlok has asked about their mom four times already, and Noatak can tell by the way he stares off into the northern sky, he’s working up to a fifth.
“She’ll be fine,” snaps Noatak. Tarrlok’s eyes go wide as saucers, and Noatak pretends he can’t see the tears forming there.
“I didn’t say anything-“
“You were thinking it,” Noatak grunts, and the conversation stops abruptly. Tarrlok goes back to gazing out their boat.
It’s slow going, getting out of the north. They’ve been sailing for three days straight, and they can survive on the fish they catch and the salt water they purify, but that doesn’t stop them from going stir-crazy. Noatak would just bend them across the sea, but the noise attaracts the attention of tiger-sharks, and Tarrlok begged him to just rely on the waves and their oars. Noatak wonders darkly if this would have been easier on his own.
Tarrlok is company, at least, but he spends most of the journey worrying over their mother, or asking if they’re close to land. He’s hopeless at bending, compared to Noatak, and he eats a lot for such a scrawny kid. Lately, Noatak’s been fantasizing about pushing him overboard. It wouldn’t be fatal or anything, he’s a waterbender after all, it just might shut him up for longer than 10 minutes.
But Noatak lets the fantasy in, sits with it for a while, and then lets it out. He won’t be like their father anymore.
“She wouldn’t want us to be miserable, Tarrlok,” Noatak says as gently as he can. He doesn’t understand his brother’s concern for her - she never questioned their father’s influence, never wondered why her sons were always so miserable to train with him. But Tarrlok was always the softer one, he wouldn’t hurt a dragonfly even if it bit him on the nose.
“I just don’t want him to take it out on her,” Tarrlok says sadly. It’s certainly a possibility, without his sons to bully anymore. But Noatak’s doubtful.
“He won’t,” says Noatak confidently. “He has nothing to fight for anymore. He’ll just turn into the bitter old man he was always meant to be.”
For the first time all day, Tarrlok seems to relax. He takes off his glove and trails his fingers in the water absently, watching his wobbly reflection stare back at him from the sea. Noatak hunches over, shifting further down into his seat. Tarrlok still enjoys the little things, the feel of the water on his skin, the way the breeze ruffles his coat, the vision of white surrounding them. By the time he was Tarrlok’s age, most of that had been tainted.
It’s confusing, to feel both affection and envy for this quality his brother has. He wants to protect Tarrlok, he wants to be like Tarrlok, he wants Tarrlok out of his life. Noatak doesn’t know how much of his anger is his father, and how much is just him.
“Can we go to Kyoshi Island? I want to see the elephant koi,” says Tarrlok, oblivious as always.
“We’re going to the first port we see and moving inland,” is Noatak’s terse reply. Tarrlok nods sagely, seemingly satisfied. Then-
“So is the first port Kyoshi Island or...?”
“No, Tarrlok,” Noatak says through gritted teeth, “we are not going to Kyoshi Island.”
“Oh, okay,” says Tarrlok, disappointment written all over his face. Noatak can’t find the energy to care. “It’s just-“
“Enough,” says Noatak tersely. Tarrlok clamps his mouth shut. Noatak hates how ugly he sounds, how Tarrlok recoils. It’s a familiar sight, and it’s not one Noatak enjoys.
“I’m sorry,” Noatak says, trying not to sound as irritated as he feels. “I’m just sick of this boat. Things will be better when we reach dry land.”
“How are we gonna pay for stuff?” Noatak asks, immediately forgiving.
“We’ll sell the boat and go from there. If we need to live off the land for a while we can.”
Tarrlok looks backwards, in the direction of what used to be their home.
“I’m glad we left,” Tarrlok says honestly, and Noatak feels a sudden burst of joy. It’s the first time he’s expressed any relief about leaving. “But I think I’ll miss home.”
“One day, you’ll forget all about that place. Besides,” Noatak says, reaching over to clap his brother on the shoulder, “we’re together, Tarrlok. We’ll make a new home.”
It’s mid-afternoon on the fourth day when they spot land. Tarrlok had finally grown irritable as well, and they were liable to strangle each other when he excitedly pointed out the rocky shore.
They sail for another hour before finding a small fishing village where they can dock. Tarrlok had begged for them to just stop near the rocks and bend the water to bring them in safely, but Noatak had refused. They couldn’t risk damaging the boat, it was their only source of income at the moment.
The local fishermen eye the boat curiously. Being of watertribe origin, it’s sturdy and narrow, perfect for avoiding boulders among the rapids. Noatak informs them he won’t settle for less than 30 gold pieces. They laugh in his face.
“Gold pieces?” asks an elderly fisherman. “Boy, we use yuans here, or didn’t you know?”
“I’ll give you 30 yuans for it, how about that?” calls another to uproarious laughter. Noatak’s smart enough to figure out that’d be a robbery, so he grabs Tarrlok by the shoulder and stomps away.
“Where are we going?” asks Tarrlok, ducking his head to avoid the teasing sailors.
“Into the market. Well listen to the sales and try to figure out the going-rate of yuans,” Noatak explains, steering Tarrlok along the winding path.
“Couldn’t we just ask someone?” Tarrlok says in confusion.
“So they can scam us? I don’t think so.”
They spend almost an hour in the market. It takes them 20 minutes just to find items moderately close in value to their boat, and even that is a crapshoot. They end up listening to jewelers and one exotic pet salesman. Tarrlok beams at a sleeping jackalope.
“Isn’t he cold all the way up here?” Tarrlok asks the merchant.
“Oh, very,” says the man in a very sad, and very fake, voice. “Are you going somewhere warmer? Perhaps you could take him with you?”
“Noatak, can we?” Tarrlok asks excitedly. “You said we’re going somewhere warmer -“
“No,” Noatak says, eyeing the price on the jackalope’s cage - 50 yuans, almost a quarter of what he’s thinking of asking for their boat. “And he’s fine, Tarrlok. The desert freezes at night. I’m sure he’s used to it.”
The merchant gives Noatak a nasty look as he nods for Tarrlok to follow him back to the docks. Noatak doesn’t miss the way his brother hangs his head.
“Maybe we can find you a less expensive pet,” Noatak suggests.
“Sure,” Tarrlok says dejectedly. Okay. They might be able to splurge on the jackalope. Besides, it might keep Tarrlok’s attention off of him for a while.
When they get to where they tied the boat, there’s nothing there. Tarrlok isn’t really paying attention, and Noatak knows panicking won’t help, so he circles the docks. And then he does it again.
“You,” he says, shoving a finger at the old man from earlier. “What’d you do with our boat?”
“Tell you what,” says the old man as the sailors snicker, “give me 30 gold pieces, I’ll take you to it!” The fishermen’s laughter roars in his ears. Noatak grabs the front of the old man’s coat with both fists. The dock goes quiet.
“Tell me where my boat is,” Noatak seethes, “or I’ll turn you inside out.”
“Noatak!” shouts Tarrlok. Out of the corner of his eye, Noatak can see the advancing fishermen. He releases the old man, and the other men relax a little.
Then, almost inexplicably, the old man begins walking backwards, inching to the edge of the dock. His eyes bulge out of his skull. He opens his mouth, but no sounds come out. Everyone shouts in concern, yelling for him to stop.
“Noatak,” Tarrlok whispers, reaching out to hold his brother’s hand. When their fingers interlock, Noatak realizes his younger brother is shaking.
The old man stops suddenly, just before the edge of the platform, and falls to his knees. The other sailors run to him, asking him questions, suggesting a heart attack. Noatak and Tarrlok melt away, forgotten.
They sprint back to the marketplace, and Noatak pointedly does not mention the tears streaming down Tarrlok’s face. They round a corner and Noatak skids to a stop. He grabs Tarrlok and they hide in an alleyway, beside the exotic pet hawker.
“Don’t,” Tarrlok whispers.
“You want the jackalope or not?” Noatak asks him, trying to keep anger out of his voice. Tarrlok looks to the greasy merchant, to the animal far too big for its cage. He nods.
Noatak tries to be quick, not out of mercy, but out of a desire not to arouse suspicion. The merchant chokes out a protest, but is unable to stop himself from picking up the keys and unlocking the jackalope’s cage. He pokes at the thing, once, twice, and then the animal is awake and bounding out into the sunlight.
Tarrlok waits until it is about to pass their alleyway and reaches out, cuddling it. At first the jackalope struggles, scratching Tarrlok’s cheek with its antlers, and then it relaxes, nosing at Tarrlok’s chest.
“He smells the sea prunes,” Tarrlok says laughing. Noatak watches as the merchant gets his bearings back and starts looking around frantically.
“He can eat them later, let’s go,” Noatak grunts, and the two of them sprint out of the market, the animal seller none the wiser.
Later, when they make camp in a cave along the forested path, the jackalope is resting in Tarrlok’s lap and Tarrlok’s stroking its ears thoughtfully.
“What’s on your mind?” Noatak asks him, all venom gone. Even with their earlier failures, Noatak’s just relieved to be on solid ground.
“We could’ve been caught today,” Tarrlok tells him. “They would’ve arrested us.”
“No one can bloodbend in daylight except for dad, and everyone assumes he died over 15 years ago,” Noatak tells him. “You heard them, they thought the old man had a heart attack.”
“What about the merchant?”
“No one saw that, Tarrlok,” Noatak says tiredly, flopping down by the fire.
“Still, if they talk, they might put it together, it could come back to us-“
“Tarrlok, we’re not getting caught,” Noatak says firmly. Tarrlok frowns and goes back to petting the jackalope.
“That’s not all,” he says after a little while. “I shouldn’t have let you bloodbend that merchant. It wasn’t right.”
“He’s a lowlife scam artist, just like those sailors and he deserved-“
“You’ve never been bloodbent before, Noatak. How could you know that they deserved it?”
Noatak doesn’t really know what to say to that. Guilt pools in his belly and slithers it’s way up to his chest, wrapping around his heart.
“We’re starting over, right?” Tarrlok asks him after what feels like forever.
“Right,” Noatak agrees.
“Then no more bloodbending.”
“Tarrlok-“
“No more bloodbending, Noatak,” Tarrlok says severely, staring hard at his brother. “Or I leave.”
Then leave, hisses a nasty voice in Noatak’s head, but it’s practically drowned out by the rushing panic. Tarrlok can’t leave - Noatak is doing this, all of this for Tarrlok. He doesn’t know what he’s doing out here if his brother isn’t with him.
“Fine,” he relents. “We’re good enough waterbenders without it, anyway.”
Tarrlok smiles at him, and the ocean of fear in Noatak’s ears dulls to a trickle. It’s not ideal, but then maybe it’s for the best. Bloodbending, more than anything else, was his father’s most precious lesson. If he and Tarrlok abandoned it now, Yakone’s teachings would die with them.
“We’re really sticking it to dad, huh?” Tarrlok says as though he’s read Noatak’s mind, unable to keep the glee out of his voice.
“Yeah,” Noatak agrees grinning, “we are.”
They spend the entire next day walking. They happen upon a traveling fruit vendor and offer some water tribe delicacies in exchange for fresh apples and moon peaches. They get sticky from the juices, and Tarrlok’s jackalope licks his face clean.
“You’ll have to name the thing,” Noatak tells him, trying and failing not to smile at the two of them. He can’t remember the last time Tarrlok looked so happy.
“I’m thinking Jack,” Tarrlok says, lying flat on his back and allowing the animal to sit on his chest and lap at his cheeks.
“You’re not serious?” Noatak asks him incredulously. “That is the stupidest name I’ve ever heard.”
“Well, what’s your idea?” Tarrlok says, sitting suddenly. The jackalope squeaks indignantly, and then stretches up to resume its feast.
“What about Zhī?” he asks. Tarrlok laughs loudly.
“Perfect!” he says. “From now on, youre T - hey don’t lick inside my mouth you weirdo!”
They move on, traveling for almost a week. Noatak struggles to hunt without bloodbending, but together they manage to develop a system - Tarrlok frightens the animals in Noatak's direction, and then Noatak stuns them with a water whip. It's not fail-safe, but it gets them some meat, at least. One day they travel for almost 12 hours without food, only stopping to rest their feet, climbing winding hills until the sun is just beginning to set. At last they spot a large, walled-in structure sitting prettily at the bottom of a mountain. Tarrlok’s stomach growls.
“We’ll see if they’re willing to trade,” Noatak says, and they make their way to the front gates, only to find out the structure is an abbey. Both boys bow upon being welcomed in by the Mother Superior.
“Where are your parents?” asks one of the sisters, who offers them supper, much to the brothers’ relief.
“They passed away a month ago,” Noatak says quickly. It’s not a total lie - he and Tarrlok ran into the blizzard about a month ago, around the same time Noatak had decided his parents were dead to him. The nuns all make varying noises of distress, and Noatak arranges his face to look appropriately sad. Tarrlok just keeps chewing until his brother nudges him, and then he bows his head to hide his stuffed cheeks.
“There’s a large sanctuary south of here, but it’s quite the journey,” says the woman who fed them, Sister Meifen. “You two are welcome to stay here, until we can find you proper arrangements.”
“Thank you, but-“
“Is it okay if Zhī stays, too?” asks Tarrlok, picking up the jackalope and showing them all. The nuns titter at the animal, and reach out to pet the its fluffy ears.
Noatak isn’t sure how it happens, but before he knows it, he and Tarrlok have each been given a mat and linens for bed. They’re told the nuns wake early, so don’t expect to sleep in. Noatak doesn’t really know why it matters if they sleep in, because they’re not nuns, but he agrees anyway.
“Tarrlok, we can’t stay here,” Noatak whispers to his brother. “We’re not getting sent to any sanctuary.”
“Then what are we doing?” Tarrlok asks him.
“I don’t know, but I’ll be 18 soon, so I can be your guardian-“
“In four years!” hisses Tarrlok. Noatak shushes him.
“I look older than I am,” Noatak whispers. “We’ll get jobs somewhere, Omashu, maybe.”
“But that’s so far from here!” Tarrlok argues. Noatak rolls his eyes.
“How do you know that?” he asks his younger brother. “You don’t even know where Kyoshi Island is.” Tarrlok pouts.
“Sister Meifen said so,” Tarrlok says, sticking his tongue out. “What about Republic City? That’s just south of here-“
“We are not going there,” Noatak interrupts coldly. “Or did you forget where dad grew up?”
Tarrlok shuffles under his blanket. Zhī snorts a little and adjusts as Tarrlok moves.
“I didn’t think that would matter,” Tarrlok says in a small voice.
“Of course it matters,” Noatak says bitterly, even though he’s not exactly sure why. Then, with less heat, “We’ll find a place. A village or something."
Tarrlok doesn't say anything in response. Noatak waits him out
"But, in the meantime, we can stay here, okay?" Noatak says after a while, as a peace offering. "It's safe and they'll keep us fed. We'll just have to listen in, make sure they don't plan anything without telling us. I'll see if I can find some maps, maybe you can finally learn to read one, right Tarrlok? Tarrlok?"
Noatak nudges his brother lightly, but the younger boy only lets out a snore. Noatak sighs and settles into his mat. There are worse places to be in, and as mistrustful as he is, he doesn't really think a bunch of nuns will try to trick them.
He also thought their boat was safe in the fishing village. Suddenly, Noatak's wide awake. He scooches closer to Tarrlok. Their father never went into detail about his work in Republic City, but Noatak recalls a few stories of children going missing. The superstitious blamed it on spirits. Their father blamed it on interested buyers.
"What does that mean?" a much younger Tarrlok had asked. Yakone only let out a dark laugh. If Noatak's certain of anything on this journey, he's certain he'll do anything to protect Tarrlok, and he doesn't care who he has to hurt to do it, nuns included.
Noatak doesn't remember falling asleep, but the next thing he knows he's being shaken awake.
"What is it, what's wrong?" he barks, sitting straight up. Tarrlok is squatting in front of him with a sleepy smile and messy hair. At least someone slept well.
"Nothing," Tarrlok says happily. "But Mother Superior says we need to earn our keep, whatever that means."
"It means she's putting us to work," Noatak grumbles, motioning for Tarrlok to turn so he can fix his hair. He begins to affix the usual pair of ponytails, and then stops himself.
"Wanna try a different style?" Noatak asks.
"I don't know," says Tarrlok. "I always wear it this way."
"What about something more traditional, like the chief wears?" suggests Noatak. Tarrlok hesitates a moment too long, and Noatak begins to part his hair in disappointment.
"Sure," Tarrlok says suddenly. "Let's try it." Noatak grins. He combs Tarrlok's hair and gathers a section of it up in the center of his head, pulling it into a ponytail, making sure to include side pieces so that it stays out of the boy's face.
"You missed a piece," Tarrlok singsongs, picking up a chunk of hair by his right ear and waving it with his fingers.
"Not necessarily." Noatak makes a small braid out of the hanging piece, leaves the end free, and then affixes the beads they usually use on Noatak's two low-hanging ponytails. He ties the braid.
"Aren't these for warriors?" Tarrlok asks him hesitantly, taking the braid between his fingers.
"They signify battles won," Noatak says. He does not elaborate any further. "Leave it. It suits you."
He fixes his own hair, and then they're off to report to Sister Meifen.
The nun is delighted when they tell her they're waterbenders. She shows them the perfumes the nuns make here at the abbey, as well as the scented soaps and bath products. She asks them if they'd be willing to help her separate the vats of solution into smaller vials. She explains that they sell their products as a means of fundraising for the abbey, and that excess sales go to the less fortunate.
"Did you know," Sister Meifen says almost smugly, "that the great Chief Katara once stayed here? She, Councilman Sokka, and Avatar Aang used this abbey as a resting place during the avatar's preparation to fight the Firelord."
"How interesting," Noatak says evenly, exchanging an awkward look with Tarrlok. They'd certainly heard a lot about Chief Katara and the others, though none of it as reverential as Sister Meifen might think.
"Who knows?" says the nun, raising her eyesbrows playfully at them. "Maybe you two will prove just as talented as her."
Noatak doesn't really know how he manages not to roll his eyes. The effort almost gives him a headache.
It's easy work, more precision than anything else, which Tarrlok has always struggled with. After his third spill, he curses and balls his fist.
"Careful," mutters Noatak, effortlessly dividing the perfume up into 10 different vials. "I don't think they'd like your language."
"I don't get it," Tarrlok groans. His cheeks redden with frustration. "This is easy. Why can't I do it?"
"You haven't had to bend in a while. Take a break."
Tarrlok doesn't seem satisfied, squeezing his nails into his palms, straightening his hands out to stretch his fingers, and then repeating the process. Noatak glances over to his brother and realizes Tarrlok's palms are red and raw. He stops his work.
"Tarrlok," he says in what he hopes is a calming voice. It still comes out nastier than he'd like.
"What?" his brother snaps, fingers still curling in and out, in and out. Noatak reaches for his hand. Tarrlok freezes, and looks down in confusion.
"We'll work on your control another time," Noatak tells him, and it comes out too sharp. He loosens his grip on Tarrlok's hand significantly, speaks in almost a whisper. "Let's see if we can find a different job for you."
"What's the point?" Tarrlok asks, voice tight. "I'll just screw it up."
"Dad's not here, Tarrlok," Noatak tells him sternly, making sure not to let his hand squeeze. "Don't let him get to you from across the ocean."
Tarrlok nods, though he's clearly still upset. They find the sisters feeding Zhī bits of whatever it is they're preparing for lunch. Fortunately the jackalope has a sense of loyalty, and bounds over to Tarrlok the moment he spots him, leaping into the boy's arms. Tarrlok brightens considerably.
"Tarrlok hurt his wrist the other day," Noatak says easily. Tarrlok side-eyes him, and then lets his right wrist hang limp atop Zhī. "I can continue filling the vials, but it irritates his hand. Is there somewhere else he can help?"
Fortunately the nuns seem to see Tarrlok as a little darling, and are more than happy to give him a less intensive job.
"But for now," Sister Meifen tells them, "you've earned a break. It's lunchtime."
They stay at the abbey for one week, and then two. Tarrlok follows Sister Meifen around like a loyal dog, and Noatak successfully bites his tonuge. Tarrlok's obviously latching on to the first kind woman he meets, but he's happy, and he's not bringing up their mother as much, so Noatak leaves it.
The nuns aren't quite as fond of Noatak, which is no surprise. Boys stop being cute once they start to look like men, and Tarrlok has enough baby fat left to get his cheeks pinched by older women with no sense of personal boundaries. It probably doesn't help that Noatak watches Tarrlok like a hawk, often pausing his work when he hasn't heard Zhī’s surprisingly loud squeaks or the sound of Tarrlok's laughter. The latter is almost a shoddy indicator - he's not used to hearing it so often, but he's warming up to the sound.
In any event, Noatak gets his work done in record time each day, and when he finishes he offers to assist in other areas. It's not exactly a deep relationship, but the nuns are grateful for his willingness to work. They always give him extra helpings at meals. One evening he notices Tarrlok staring into his cleared plate, so he offers some of his own food. Tarrlok greedily accepts.
"Tarrlok, why didn't you just say you were still hungry?" Mother Superior gently scolds him. Tarrlok freezes like a deer in headlights.
"I, I'm sorry-"
"You should have offered him more food," Noatak says sharply. The table goes quiet.
"It's my fault, Mother Superior," Sister Meifen says. "I always give Tarrlok snacks during the day, but today we were so busy scent-testing we didn’t stop for anything. I should have told him he could ask for seconds."
The sister and Mother Superior exchange a look that Noatak doesn't understand, but they seem to come to some sort of agreement, and dinner resumes. Tarrlok blushes furiously, leaving the food untouched until Noatak nudges him.
"Eat," Noatak says. "Also, when were you going to share your snacks, huh?"
Tarrlok grins sheepishly, and finishes his dinner.
In the evenings before bed, they practice waterbending. Noatak recalls what his father would say, how he would react, and tries to do the opposite of that. He finds himself getting frustrated easily when Tarrlok messes up, but he keeps the anger from seeping out into his tone. He overcompensates when Tarrlok gets it right, complimenting him profusely. It feels fake, but Tarrlok's smile is genuine, so he keeps at it.
By their third week, Tarrlok joins him at the perfume. He's thinking too hard about it, hyping it up too much. He waltzes up to the ceramic pots like they're a pack of wolves ready to strike. When he first goes to divide up the liquid, he spills it all on the stones.
"Breathe," Noatak tells him in a calm voice, clamping down on the part of him that's laughing viciously. "It's just perfume, Tarrlok. You can do this in your sleep."
Tarrlok nods, too seriously, but does as Noatak says, takes a deep calming breath, and bends the perfume perfectly. Noatak smiles broadly, telling Tarrlok he did great, and it feels genuine this time.
They get through all of the vials without a single mess. It takes almost as long as when Noatak worked alone, due to Tarrlok's cautious approach, but when they finish Tarrlok's beaming with pride. Sister Meifen takes his face in her hands and congratulates him on his improvement.
"Noatak's a great teacher," he says happily. Sister Meifen nods almost gratefully at Noatak. He doesn't nod back. She's been acting like she's Tarrlok's mother, like Noatak’s some wayward stranger who took this precious kid under his wing. Everything about this place makes Noatak feel like he's a transient and Tarrlok's their newest resident.
He's antsy to leave.
The nuns get antsy as well, towards the end of their third week there. He'd noticed them cleaning with more vigor, returning from the market with a variety of fruits, vegetables, and, to Tarrlok's delight, sweets. They're all whispering to each other hurriedly, but when Noatak gets near, they quiet at once and go about their day. It's infuriating.
"You need to try and find out what's going on around here," Noatak mutters to Tarrlok while they're dividing up the perfumes. "Don't make it obvious, but see what you can find out from Sister Meifen."
"She said something about a party yesterday," Tarrlok says nonchalantly. "It's probably that."
Noatak freezes his motions and nearly drops the liquid. He sends the perfume shooting down so viciously into the vials that they shatter. Tarrlok stops what he's doing, surprised.
"It's a going-away party." Noatak feels his whole body shaking with anger. He can only think of one reason the nuns would keep this from him, wouldn’t just tell them they've found a suitable sanctuary.
They're going to separate Noatak from Tarrlok.
Well, they're going to try. They'll have to kill him first, and somehow he doesn't think these nuns have it in them.
"Noatak?" Tarrlok asks, but Noatak doesn't hear him. His ears are ringing too loud.
"Finish this...crap," Noatak spits out, stalking away to find Mother Superior. A thousand scenarios run through his head, each more violent than the last. Several of them involve bloodbending Sister Meifen off a cliff.
When he gets inside, he hears male voices, and it's all the confirmation he needs.
"It's truly an honor to host you-" Mother Superior is saying when Noatak rips open the curtain and reveals-
The Avatar. The literal Avatar. Avatar Aang is talking to Mother Superior. There's another man with him, much younger and with skin closer to Noatak's, but wearing the same air nomad robes and sharing the same surprised expression.
"Noatak!" Mother Superior starts in surprise, eyebrows drawn together sternly. She's too startled by his sudden appearance to say much else. Noatak shakes his head and gathers himself, remembering his resolve.
"Are you going to take me away?" he asks The Actual Real Life Avatar, pointing an accusatory finger in his face. Mother Superior looks scandalized. The Avatar just looks amused.
"I don't think so," Avatar Aang, THE Avatar Aang says slowly. "Did you want me to take you away?"
"No." Noatak lowers his finger slowly as realization hits him. The nuns are throwing a party. The Avatar is here. The Avatar doesn't know who he is.
"The party's for you," Noatak says, thinking out loud and feeling incredibly stupid.
"A party?" asks the legendary, bridge-between-the-worlds, bringer-of-peace Avatar, clapping his hands in delight.
"Well, yes, of a kind, but, Noatak!" says Mother Superior. "What in the world are you doing, bursting in here like this? And accosting Avatar Aang like that, it's the height of disrespect-"
"Please, Mother Superior," the very-much real Avatar says with what can only be described as a goofy grin on his face, "I barely respect myself. It seems like there may have been a miscommunication." He gestures to Noatak, and Noatak realizes he's being asked to speak.
"I thought you were throwing a going-away party," he tells Mother Superior with as much dignity as he can muster, "for me. I thought you were separating Tarrlok and I."
As an afterthought, he bows to the Avatar. Mother Superior walks over to Noatak, and he absolutely refuses to back away despite his screaming instincts. To his surprise, she cups his cheek in her hand.
"Dear boy," the Mother Superior says in the softest voice he's ever heard her use, "I would never separate you from your brother. Frankly, we'd keep you both all to ourselves, but it's not right to deprive children the opportunity for a loving family out of selfishness."
Noatak allows himself to lean into the older woman's warm touch, for just the barest of seconds. He uses it to ground himself. The nun's confession is overwhelming, to say the least.
Then he stands straight and bows deeply to her, far deeper and far longer than he did for the living-legend Avatar.
"I apologize, Mother Superior," Noatak says sincerely, gravely. "I misread the situation. I did not mean to embarass you." She smiles at him a moment longer, and then turns back to her usual severe self.
"Go get your brother and wash up. We have guests."
Noatak's too relieved to notice the curious look Avatar Aang gives him as he turns on his heel to go find Tarrlok.
-
-
-
"Do you think he's hear to arrest us?" Tarrlok asks for what feels like the millionth time as Noatak brushes his hair. The nuns have prepared a luncheon feast, and it seems all work activities for the day have been cancelled.
"No, Tarrlok," Noatak says tiredly. He doesn't have the strength for his usual annoyance. The day's earlier panic knocked him out. "He didn't even know who I was."
"What if he was just pretending?" Tarrlok presses.
"He's the Avatar," Noatak reminds him, placing the beads at the end of Tarrlok's braid - he's been wearing his hair this way since Noatak first suggested it. "He took dad's bending away. He doesn't need to pretend."
"I can't believe you talked to him," Tarrlok gushes, switching tones with lightning speed. Noatak doesn't know how he does it. "What was he like?"
Noatak had, smartly, in his opinion, left out a few key details of his encounter with the Avatar.
"Fine," Noatak says in a bored voice as he brushes his own hair. Tarrlok rolls his eyes, dissatisfied.
"Nice," Noatak adds. "Dopey."
"Dopey?" Tarrlok repeats. "He's the Avatar! How could he be dopey?"
"Ask him yourself," Noatak suggests, standing once his own ponytail's secure. Tarrlok follows suit and they head into the dining hall.
"I'm not asking the Avatar if he's dopey," Tarrlok mutters under his breath. Noatak grins.
They dine on fruits and nuts, and then they are served sweet buns and bean curry. There's no meat, presumably since the Avatar and his company are vegetarians, but it's very filling. Tarrlok can't get enough of it. They nuns have pushed away the tables and set up mats like the ones Noatak and Tarrlok have been sleeping on. It's the most casual Noatak's ever seen the abbey. He and Tarrlok find a pair of corner mats and keep to themselves.
"May we join you?" says a deep, friendly voice. Tarrlok's jaw drops, and so does the dumpling he was holding. Avatar Aang and the younger man he was with are standing above them. The Avatar is smiling broadly, the other man looks like he's trying to smile, but it's something akin to a grimace. Noatak very badly wants to say no, but after his earlier display, he owes it to the nuns to be polite.
"It would be our honor," he answers, bowing his head. Tarrlok swallows whatever was in his mouth and bows as well. The Avatar and his companion settle beside them.
"We were never properly introduced," he says kindly, looking between the brothers. "I'm Aang, and this is my son, Tenzin."
Tenzin bows his head.
"Noatak," he says, pointing to himself, "and Tarrlok."
"I wanted to say I'm terribly sorry about your parents," Avatar Aang says seriously, and Tarrlok freezes again. "When Mother Superior told me how recently you lost them, my heart broke for you."
Noatak doesn't think Tarrlok could sigh any louder. Fortunately, the Avatar seems to take it as a display of sadness.
"Thank you," Noatak says politely. "We'll be alright, as long as we have each other."
Avatar Aang smiles sadly at him.
"I'm glad to hear it," he says, and in spite of his misgivings, Noatak is inclined to believe him. Their father had always spoken of the Avatar's weakness, his bleeding heart. Noatak eventually took that to mean that Avatar Aang possessed compassion, which Yakone was sorely unfamilar with.
"I'm going to sound like everyone's grandpa," the Avatar continues, looking at an absolutely starstruck Tarrlok, "but when I was your age, my friends were all the family I had. I know how important it is to have someone you can rely on."
Noatak realizes with a start he's talking about Chief Katara and the other important people his father despised. For some reason Noatak still feels a pang of anger for Chief Katara, mixed in somewhere with his anger for Yakone. Misplaced loyalty, maybe? He's not sure.
"What brought you to the abbey?" Tarrlok asks curiously.
"I thought it would be nice to visit the sisters, their abbey’s on the way home from the Southern Air Temple. You see, it was time for Tenzin here to select an air bison," Aang says proudly, clapping his son on the shoulder. "Traditionally air nomads choose their bisons during childhood, but we needed to ensure the herd was healthy and happy before separating them. Tell them his name!"
Tenzin blushes furiously, which Noatak finds pretty funny considering he's a grown-man.
"Oogi," he says quietly, but the man's baritone reverberates whether he wants it to or not. Noatak can't help it. He barks out a laugh, and quickly attempts to cover it up with a cough.
"That's great!" Tarrlok says sincerely. He whistles, and his jackalope comes careening towards them. Noatak's not sure when he tought him that trick. Tarrlok holds the animal up proudly, and Noatak notes it's getting a little heavy in the middle. "This is Zhī!"
"Hello, Zhī," Aang beams, reaching out to the jackalope and offering it a carrot. Zhī sniffs at the vegetable, and then leaps a little too excitedly, landing on Aang's head. Noatak and Tarrlok gasp in horror. The Avatar and Tenzin laugh.
"I'm great with animals," Aang chuckles, extracting Zhī and setting him in his lap while the jackrabbit munches on the carrot. Tarrlok, for his part, is ecstatic about this turn of events and chats happily with Aang and Tenzin, trading animal stories. The Avatar mentions his lemur, Momo, who apparently resides on Air Temple Island for the most part. Tarrlok asks them if they've ever encountered another jackalope in their travels.
"They're usually found in the Ba Sing Se Desert," Tenzin muses. "This one's pretty far from home. Where did you happen to find him?"
Tarrlok glances at Noatak nervously.
"We met it in the fishing village north of here," Noatak says, smooth as anything, "there was an exotic animal merchant there, and he accidentally let some of the animals out. We would have brought him back, but Zhī didn't seem to be very well cared for."
Tenzin nods, smiling at little at him, apparently satisfied with the explanation. Aang squints a little, his calm expression never faltering. Noatak stares back at the Avatar with what he hopes is a neutral expression. He also hopes Tarrlok is smart enough to keep his head down.
"Well, I can't fault you," Aang says lightly. "I'm an animal-lover myself, after all. I hate the thought of them feeling uncomfortable. It's why we left the bisons a little south of here, Oogi isn't great with small spaces just yet."
"They're here?" Tarrlok asks in wonder. Aang smiles warmly at him.
"Would you like to meet them? After dessert, of course."
Tarrlok again looks to Noatak, who glares at his younger brother. Why would the Avatar offer them such a thing? He's certain Aang doesn't know they're Yakone's sons, but he doesn't know what the endgame is here. What reason would the Avatar have to introduce a pair of orphans to his precious air bisons?
"Sure," Noatak says after mulling it over. He'll just have to stay on his guard. If he and Tarrlok need to make a daring escape, well, it's about time they move along, anyway.
Tarrlok tears through his fruit tarts like a rabid platypus-bear, except sloppier. Aang and Tenzin leave to sit with the nuns, and Noatak hears them expressing gratitude for the traditional air nomad meals. Noatak had always beleived that the monks ate very little, refusing indulgences. But while Tenzin appears more reserved, Avatar Aang digs into his deserts almost as heartily as Tarrlok. He's nothing like Noatak would expect. He's just kind of...
Dopey.
"I can't believe we're eating with the Avatar," Tarrlok says through a moutful of macaroons. Then, lowering his voice to a whisper he says, "Imagine the look on dad's face."
Noatak silences him with a glare.
It's late afternoon when the Avatar and his son finally stop chatting with the nuns and suggest they go meet Appa and Oogi. Noatak fills his waterskin up, just in case. He's not idiotic enough to think he could win against the Avatar in a fight, but he's sure he could create enough of a diversion to buy them time to escape.
They follow the winding path to a wooded area, and Aang cups his hands around his mouth.
"Appa!" he calls in a singsong. "Appa! Oogi! Where are you?" In response, something among the trees lets out a loud groan. Aang, at nearly 60 years old, takes off at a run towards the bison.
"Dad!" Tenzin shouts, running after him. Noatak and Tarrlok glance at each other, and then they're following suit. They tear through the brush and leaves, Tarrlok giggling all the while, Zhī being jostled under the boy's arm. Noatak hears the groan again and turns a sharp corner, barely managing to grab Tarrlok by the elbow so that he doesn't go sprinting off in the wrong direction. At last they crash through a clearing, and are greeted by the sight of two grown-men cuddling up to a pair of enrmormous furry creatures.
"Wow," Tarrlok breathes, and Noatak can't help but feel the same sense of awe. The bisons are huge, bigger than they could have ever imagined. The biggest creatures up north are the yaks, and they don't hold a candle to Appa and Oogi. And the bisons are, for lack of a better term, adorable - fluffy and incredibly affectionate, if the way they respond to their masters' attention is any indication.
"Come meet them!" Aang calls, waving them over. Tarrlok doesn't hesitate, he runs over to Oogi, the closest one, and immediately begins petting the bison's face. Zhī struggles free of Tarrlok's hold and begins sniffing at Oogi's feet. Noatak is more cautious, approaching Appa slowly. He's never loved animals the way Tarrlok does, but he's more than happy to get a closer look at the unusual beast.
"He won't bite," Aang says gently after Noatak just stands in front of Appa for a few minutes, staring. Noatak still doesn't really care to pet the animal, but he can tell how highly the Avatar regards Appa, and he doesn't want to insult him. Steadying himself, Noatak reaches out to gingerly presse his hand to the bison's wet nose. Noatak holds his breath. Then, Appa leans into the touch, letting out a low snort.
Something both foreign and familiar washes over Noatak. It's not an emotion he can identify, but it feels warm.
He and Tarrlok spend the next few hours playing with the bison. Appa is far older than Oogi, evident by the slow way he moves and the gray around his eyes, but Noatak is more than happy to sit by the bison's belly and rest in his fur. Avatar Aang sits beside him. Oogi is excitable, jumping around the clearing with Tarrlok, and eventually Tenzin, once he loosens up. The airbenders tell them all about the bisons, how they can fly long distances without growing tired, how they can carry whole families on their backs, how they're inherently gentle creatures.
"Oogi came from the Northern Air Temple," Aang explains proudly. "An old friend of mine, Teo, he's been helping to repopulate them up there. He designed Oogi's saddle, actually."
They talk for hours, the sun going lower and lower, and Noatak grows tired, comfortable in the softness of Appa's fur. Even Tarrlok and Oogi tire eventually, flopping down among the leaves.
"It's getting late," Tenzin says, producing some snacks for Appa and Oogi as he speaks. "We should head back to the abbey for the evening." Aang nods, and, in the first display of airbending Noatak's seen yet, the Avatar breezes effortlessly into a standing position. He offers Noatak his hand. Noatak eyes him suspiciously, and then, letting exhaustion win, allows himself to be pulled up.
The journey back to the abbey feels far longer than the first time. When they arrive, Tarrlok is swept up into a loving hug by Sister Meifen, and she even reaches out to hug Noatak as well, although he doesn't reciprocate. Noatak doesn't know why she's being so affectionate, they were only gone for a few hours.
When he and Tarrlok find their sleeping quarters, they both fall asleep the moment they lay down.
-
-
-
In the morning they're roused by Mother Superior.
"Get dressed, you two," she says. "The Avatar would like to speak with you."
"Couldn't he speak with us after sunrise?" Tarrlok whines, rubbing at his eyes. Noatak puts himself together quickly, a ball of nerves. He's not sure why Aang has taken such an interest in them, but he was under the impression the Avatar would be leaving today. They already saw the bison, what else is there to do?
When Noatak and Tarrlok trudge over to Aang, Tarrlok's still half asleep. He's tied his coat around his waist and has Zhī sleeping in the hood. Both the Avatar and his son are meditating. Aang peeks an eye open as he hears their footsteps approach.
"Ah!" he says, motioning them over. They sit cross-legged in front of him, and Tarrlok practically sits on Zhī who squeaks and trudges into the boy's lap. "I'm sorry about the early wake-up call, but Tenzin and I are leaving soon, and I wanted to discuss something with you both. Well, you three."
"Is everything alright?" Noatak asks in as relaxed a voice as he can muster. Aang smiles warmly at him.
"Yes, Noatak, everything's fine. You aren't in trouble," Aang says. Noatak feels his heart slow down, lets his facial features relax.
"I told you last night I was devastated to hear about what happened to you," Aang explains. "Mother Superior told me how you're both talented waterbenders. I immediately felt like our meeting was more than luck - like we were all meant to be here in this place, at this time."
"I am fortunate enough to be married to the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe, and, in my biased opinion, one of the greatest waterbenders the world has ever known. Although I'm sure I'm not alone in saying so," Aang adds, winking.
"What I'm trying to say is - if the two of you are looking for a more permanent home, I would be honored if you would return to the Southern Water Tribe with me."
Noatak's mouth flies open, but no words come out. Tarrlok's eyes are practically bursting out of his head. Zhī, oblivious, sighs sleepily.
"Like...to live with you?" is all Noatak can manage. Tenzin chuckles. Aang inclines his head.
"If you'd like," the Avatar says, voice light but sincere.
"But you're the Avatar," Tarrlok says in confusion. Aang laughs, throwing an arm around his son.
"I'm also a father to three incredible young people, if I do say so myself," he says merrily. He retracts his arm and looks seriously between Noatak and Tarrlok. "You're under no obligation to come with me. If it's not what you want, I completely understand."
"How do you know Chief Katara won't mind?" Noatak asks him suspiciously. Aang smiles, his eyes lighting up with adoration.
"If you knew my mother," Tenzin tells them, "you wouldn't even be asking that question. Helping people is her passion."
Every fiber of Noatak's body is screaming in protest, telling him to grab Tarrlok and run for the sea, to run far away from these men and their promises. But he's planted in place, rooted by disbelief and confusion, and, worst of all, hope. It seems too good to be true. But then, if it is true, there's no where safer for him and Tarrlok from their father than the other side of the world, among the people Yakone hates most.
"May I speak with my brother?" Noatak asks. Aang inclines his head again, and he and Tarrlok step out into a hallway, leaving Zhī in the airbenders’ care.
"I think we should go with them," Tarrlok says the moment they're out of earshot. Noatak grimaces.
"I think we should discuss it," Noatak says irritably. "We can't just go with them-"
"What, like we just left the North Pole?" Tarrlok hisses. "He's the Avatar, he won't hurt us."
Noatak bites his tongue, refusing to let spill all the angry words about how parents aren't supposed to hurt you, either. Now's not the time for that discussion.
"Tarrlok," he says, trying desperately to convey severity. Thankfully, Tarrlok closes his mouth and listens. "If we do this, that's it. We live in the South Pole from now on. We listen to Avatar Aang and Chief Katara. We're Noatak and Tarrlok, the tragic boys who lost their parents. We give up our freedom."
"I don't think we're giving up our freedom," Noatak says, looking back towards the room where they left Aang. "Aang - the Avatar, he seems like he loves freedom. I just think we'd be safe."
Noatak looks back towards the room as well. They could say no, grab Zhī, and head southeast, towards Ba Sing Se. They'd make it, he's sure, living off scraps, resting their heads somewhere new each month, doing odd jobs. They could survive like that for a few years, until Noatak found a decent job. But would they be happy?
Noatak can practically feel Appa's soft fur under his hands. He can hear Tarrlok's hysterical laughter as Oogi and Zhī licked him mercilessly.
"Okay," Noatak says to Aang, once they've reentered the room. "We'll go with you."
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𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: scouting dilemma
𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: hyodo juza/reader
𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: sfw
𝐰𝐜: 1.7k words
𝐚𝐧: guess who was inspired by the 2020 gem heist? wrote a dumb little thing dedicated to all my fallen comrades bc juza won’t come home to them after the reset- sorry to the requests I have yet to fulfill! year 2 ages btw~
This was the moment you’ve been waiting for. You managed to save up a massive amount of gems, waiting to be spent on a banner with your best boy in it. For months, your fingers itched to pull but you were loyal (with a few caving exceptions) to the character who got you into the game in the first place.
When the developers finally announced a banner with him in it, an SSR of best boy in a summer outfit no less, it was as if fate decided to tell you now was the moment to splurge strike.
9:58 pm.
Staring at your phone screen, you made sure everything was prepared before you could summon. You decided to do your first pull at 10 pm (his favourite number was 10), and surrounded your phone with a summon circle made entirely out of candies still in their wrappers.
9:59 pm.
You sent your prayers to the gacha gods, counting down the seconds until the clock struck-
10:00 pm.
With a shriek, you nearly ruined your summon circle formation of sweets as you scrambled to your phone, clicking the bright, shiny button that had tempted you endlessly.
“Yes, I’m sure I want to spend! Come home, come home, come home…” you chanted, unable to decide whether you should close your eyes until the final results or keep them wide open.
Choosing the latter, you gritted your teeth at the sequence of cards arriving.
R, Event R, R, R, Dupe SR, R, R, R, R, Event SR.
Suppressing the scream that wanted to escape your throat, you tried to laugh it off. At least you got two of the event cards…? Maybe it would have been better to wait until 10:10 pm?
An SNS notification popped up at the top of your screen, and from the little summary, you could tell you were gonna get upset at the contents. Checking the chat, your mutual quickly followed up her message with a screencap of your best boy. Coming home to her.
You quickly sent your response before promptly returning to the game, ‘asdfghjkl im happy for u but like also muting u rn :’< brb soon hopefully yeet need to retrieve my boi from the game’s clutches cya’
Despite your initial optimism, as the pulls kept going, the lower your gem count, the worse your mood became.
Should… should you stop right now? Banner really said no rights to best boy, huh? Sure you were able to fully merge a bunch of SRs and even the event R and SR cards, but not once did he come home? Even his sworn rival’s initial SSR came home if only to spite you or him or both.
Mentally exhausted, you decided to sleep. Maybe your luck would be better tomorrow?
When you walked into the room with a frown visible on your face, Juza immediately knew something was wrong.
From even before he got together with you, he was always sensitive to the different expressions you made, and by association your emotions— to the little smile on your face as you ate desserts together or the eyebrow furrow-pout combo you did when the professor said something you didn’t agree with. He’d never say how fun it was, seeing the different faces you’d make.
However, while those were cute, this just made him worry.
He’d really rather not fight anyone, but if he has to beat up someone…
Juza found himself distracted during class, unable to stop himself from constantly looking at you every few minutes. With a faint peach staining his cheeks, he slipped his hand underneath the desk to grasp your own.
“… you okay?” he said, voice low and quiet as to not catch anyone else’s attention. The look on your face turns a little softer, even throwing him a quick smile but he knows you well enough to spot the traces of sadness still present.
You don’t reply, squeezing his hand back as you finally tried to pay attention to the professor.
He sighed, slowly releasing your hand from beneath the table. He’ll find a way to make you feel better later, but for now, he had to take notes— for the both of you, it looked.
It’s not every day that Juza does most of the talking, but that just so happened to be the case today. He’s getting restless, stuck between actively wanting to help you out with whatever you needed or just sticking by you and letting you overcome whatever’s troubling you on your own.
You’ll talk when you want to, he knew that, but even still he wanted to be more useful to you. Do you want him to just keep talking to help you take your mind off things? Do you want to rant to him so he can listen? Do you want him to get you something? He’s not the best at giving advice, but if you needed it he’d do his best.
He doesn’t know what to do. You’re responding to him, but your mind is all the way elsewhere.
The next thing he knew, he’s getting a spoonful of his frozen dessert and pressing it against your lips.
You get startled from your thoughts when a sudden icy temperature meets your mouth. You opened your mouth, cringing slightly at the cool before finally enjoying the shaved ice dessert.
While it wasn’t uncommon for Juza to let you taste the food he ate and vice versa, he was usually more reserved, too shy to feed you in public.
‘He must have been worried,’ you thought to yourself if he had to do that just to catch your attention. You immediately shifted your thoughts from the game to Juza, already about to apologise for troubling him before he interrupted you.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, and even though he had a scowl on his face, he looked at you with tight and worried eyes.
He knew you played games on your phone, but it was still a bit embarrassing to admit that you were upset for such a long duration because of your best boy not coming home. However, Juza deserved to know, so you pushed away your hesitance before explaining the whole fiasco to him.
Juza doesn’t get it entirely. He’s bordering between relief and confusion— on one hand, at least no one wanted to hurt you or fight you or anything; on the other hand, a 2D guy got you upset?
The concept isn’t completely foreign to him, what with Itaru-san and even Settsu constantly gaming, but usually it was his roommate being irritating and gloating while the salaryman got frustrated, eventually passing his phone to Sakuya.
He’s honestly shell-shocked that you’re upset, so even though he doesn’t understand why it’s such a big deal he’ll do what he can to make you feel better. He’s not the best at comforting people, he can never find the right words… but he’s good at listening.
He placed his hand on top of yours, grateful you don’t point it out verbally or he might actually combust. He can only hope the two of you are seated secluded enough that no one comes by.
Something’s starting to bother him though. The more he listens to you, the more he’s conflicted— if you’re dedicating that much of your… gems (?) to this guy he gets why you’re upset. Another part of him wonders what’s so great about this specific guy.
He’s not upset nor is he jealous, he’s just… figuring out what specific traits you like in this guy. For future reference. Who knew, maybe he’d get to play a role similar to the character you like so much?
“Why do you like him so much, anyway?” He asked, staring intently at you.
Your attitude quickly changed from being upset to being excited to talk about your favourite character.
“He’s just so kind and thoughtful! A total gap moe, you wouldn’t expect him to be so family-oriented because of his appearance but he totally is!” you began, barely catching a break to breathe before continuing on, “plus he didn’t start off as the strongest? But he’s constantly trying his best you just want to root for him and care for him?”
Unexpectedly, Juza finds himself a little flustered, though he’s unsure of why when you’re only describing a character. Perhaps it was the look on your face while you talked?
“Plus, he looks a lot like you! Obviously, I need him to come home, right?” you exclaimed, hitting him straight in the heart with your crinkled eyes and a beautiful smile.
The hand that was comforting you a while ago and gently rubbing patterns onto your skin stilled. You noticed right away, hoping you didn’t say anything too weird during your rant.
“Juza?”
He’s silent for a while, unsure of what to do and ultimately deciding to say the first thing that popped up in his head.
“… then why’d you need him to come home if I’m already-“
When he heard you squeal he stopped himself from continuing whatever he was going to say. Did you hear him? Dumb question, of course, you did!
You covered your face with your hands, unsuccessfully hiding the strawberry red colouring your face, and screamed internally. You can’t see how Juza is reacting but you just heard a bang on the table?
‘Juza? Who told you to- istg I’ll have you arrested for-‘
After a few moments, you’re the one who ultimately breaks the silence, knowing neither of you had enough will to point out the warm flecks that still remained on both of your faces.
“We should get going. Our class is all the way in another building,” you said, slowly standing up from your seat.
“… ‘kay.”
You’re not holding hands while walking, but if he noticed the frequency of your hand grazing his he doesn’t let you know.
Reaching the midpoint between your classroom and his, you turn to face him before splitting off in the hallway. You look to see if the coast was clear, and to Juza’s surprise, you enveloped him into a warm embrace, quick but heartfelt. Neither of you saw each other’s expressions, but Juza wondered if your heart raced just as fast as his did.
“Thank you for making me feel better… I love you,” you whisper the last part, before untangling yourself from him and speed walking away to your classroom. You miss the way Juza looks back at you, body frozen but face a mixture of shock and longing and love.
want to order again?
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Hobbit Soulmate Pt 35
Two more weeks of daily stops to the same banquet hall, that once split in half Adrien and his film stage cast around metal chairs forming the set of the fake play the first directions came about. Off to the other half they kept him too distracted while you worked with the choreographer on your own routine involving falling down on purpose. A lot less acrobatic than some had expected but no less adorable to you with thoughts of how it would look at the final go around. And while they broke you got to work on the second stage routine you would have, more graceful with large feathers for the entourage to the top hat and cane donning man.
Evening calls to both Richard and Lee up in Canada seemingly on vastly different schedules came between extra juggling lessons with Emma. Though soon enough you were back smiling for the security guard at the airport who let you past excited to see your next postcard of a film showing off the worth of all your travels around the world. Smoothing your fingers through your curls absently while rereading one of your favorite books adjusting to the slightly shorter length once you’d had it trimmed again. The flight had become a common blip to just get to the next stop along the way. When you would get to your between home however it would be a quick drop of the bag to head to the car waiting for you to take you to set alongside Lee.
Out in the hall once you’d hurried from the taxi up to your floor Lee outside his doorway stood off of the wall smiling and closing the distance. “Hey, welcome back,” nice and warm he hugged you tightly saying, “Rich left earlier I think, his car’s gone.”
“Ya, has to get to the empty northern set. Have fun up here? He said you’ve been making friends.” You asked in his pull back guiding him to your door as he took hold of your duffel bag.
“Just been meeting the other extras, they’re a bit curious on you. Understandably.” His eyes looking you over, “Sleep on the plane?”
“Nope, too cold, you sleep well?” Unlocking the door to step inside turning on the light guiding him inside.
“Inflatable mattress is a bit rickety.”
“How have you not bought a bed yet?”
“I don’t want to buy a bed, then I’d have to get rid of the bed. Will and my sister want the lounges at least for when they move out and we can split the moving costs.”
Down the hall you went stopping in the living room at the cabinet with a grin, “He fixed it up,” you said making Lee smirk watching you open the doors and peek inside.
“Saw him outside in the cold sanding away weeks back. Been keeping busy, even bought some shelves looks like.”
“Yes, he does love breaking out his hammer.” Making Lee chuckle going with you to the bedroom where you found a box of candies and a note from Richard that he would have dinner ready for you when you got back. A quick settle of your bag in the closet and you left your satchel beside that when he glanced at his watch again clearly having been waiting himself to climb in the car with you to get started. “Sorry I’ve left you to carry the weight.”
That had him chuckle walking with you back down to the lobby, “No problem, kind of like the mystery, even Tracy has been thriving in it. Though it will be fun to see you so relentlessly confrontational.”
“Thank you, get to be an odd duck.”
You caught his eye and he wet his lips at the door saying, “I saw him at a jewelry store you know.”
“I did not hear that,” you said exiting the door making him smirk again.
“He’s going to propose, or buy you something very very shiny.”
“Why do you do this?” you said locking the door behind you.
Leaning in however he pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek humming in the sling of his arm behind your back, “Gets cold, we need a distraction.” Making you roll your eyes while he settled closer to your side glad to have you back with him. “He is perfectly miserable you know, when he’s not on set, only got him to lunch once.”
“Oh I know, we’re just determined to mope when apart apparently, and everyone I work with seems to say I rattle endlessly on about Rich too.”
“Oh I doubt that, more like you don’t share much and when you do it sticks out. They want you to be over the moon happy, you brood off to the sides from what I know about you on set.”
“Well I’ve never been one to be the center of attention at a party.”
“Odd choice of employment for the lot of us wallflowers.” He hummed shifting his hand to fix your collar after fixing his own jacket shut again.
.
Changed and seated in a trio of people helping to straighten your hair you read through the script for the first scenes to be filmed today. Curious stares lingered around the room of actors readying to film the start of the first four episodes set through winter months. A few bouts of chatting with the others and some of the mystery seemed to drop away with people wondering how convincing the bubbly vibes you gave off could be warped into the cynical and rude young woman to head this cast. Though from a glimpse of your note taking on the edge of your script the also left handed father wondered how your right handed grip on the pencil had been known by those casting when he had been told that you were left handed, the one child of his hired three that was a leftie like him.
Once the camera was rolling that doubt dropped as you switched hands showing you were ambidextrous, a trait at least comforting himself that your characters could hold that bond. A bond that between takes you got to deepening sharing more about yourselves that Lee jumped in on stealing every chance he got to be close to you. Always trying to wrap around your side or back propping his chin on top of your head proving that like Tracy had mentioned there was a history there, one that was confusing as clearly Lee wasn’t the name of your boyfriend and he wasn’t the guy you had been photographed cuddling up to at your premiers.
.
“Richy Rich,” you said entering your apartment just filled with the scents of the dinner he was fixing up. From the archway of the kitchen the grinning giant frame came to scoop you up in a warm hug with lips melting against yours.
Tenderly he kept his forehead to yours smiling as he hummed, “I made meatloaf,” relaxing his arms more around your back as your fingers smoothed up into his hair. “I take it Lee’s in the hall.”
That made you giggle, “Changing his shirt, got something on it.” He nodded and you giggled, “If he’s wearing green then he was lying to buy us some time. I hear you’ve been brooding between shifts.”
“It’s cold, I’ve been missing my cuddling partner. Did you notice the cabinet?”
You nodded and smiled, “You did an amazing job. Doors open and everything.”
Settling you down he stole another kiss along with your hand guiding you to the living room to show off the cabinet and polaroids of what he had found sharing the story about the family he’d tracked down creeping your grin out more, “And you tracked the family down over these?” Lifting the pile of pictures conveniently free of the geode box and rings, “Really?”
Sheepishly in a try not to spill the beans he eased his hands into his pockets saying, “Music boxes and those pens are expensive, and the receipts had a name. Wouldn’t be right to keep them without looking into who owned them. Made a cute story.”
“Very cute,” you giggled out then glanced to the door at the knock.
“Open, Lee.” He called out smiling at you, “Told him before it was open, he insists.”
The door opened and creeping in Lee poked his head in and you said, “No one’s going to eat you. You changed your pants too.”
You teased making him smirk and lift his slipper covered foot, “And took off my boots. Socks were cold too. Brought some cake.” Lifting the cake he brought from his fridge.
Richard smiled saying, “Thank you, I’ll set the table, let you breathe.”
Lee retorted, “I am breathing,” turning to follow Richard’s path to the kitchen as you sat to undo your boots to change your own socks. You nodded up at him and he repeated, “I am breathing.”
.
Days had the three of you mingling your schedules to have lunches and dinners together between distractions from the sleepy section of town you had settled in. On the set still things only seemed to get a bit mixed up for you, between playing someone so opposite and even having so much friction between you and Lee on screen with his place right next to you between the takes and scenes. “He really isn’t over you, yet is he?” Tracy had muttered a week in and all you could do was sigh at another take pulling you apart while you were to film the big reveal scene for their pretend relationship he clearly had hoped to be with you instead.
Richard was your rock though when he kept these rocky days a bit smoother, even if it seemed he was plotting something. Each stolen glance away and subtle flinch or tuck of a sweatshirt in one of the cubbies he never seemed to move in the closet had that jewelry shop trip mentioned by Lee circling in your brain. No matter how many times his shifts had kept him away for part of the day or even some of the night you didn’t dip to start digging for what he might be hiding and simply pretended that you didn’t know or notice he was up to something.
Valentines circled in your mind and was always a possibility just a few weeks off, a date he made sure to note, even with a card or folded paper flower or heart. Either way he was miserable with secrets and would cave eventually. And in the evenings in together that same fluid friendship came out with a tv and the splurged purchase of a dvd and vhs player helped to add to group movie nights where Richard got to show off his morning off wine purchases to share more of his interest in it with the pair of you.
.
Confusing didn’t come close, and where wine led to joking and a lean in with a teasing smile apparently led to a kiss, not with your boyfriend. Right between the pair of men you had eaten with you shared a communal grumble at the phone call announcing it was morning. Off your back Lee eased with hand smoothing down your side, the motion opening your eyes to spot Richard’s hand from your shoulder to pat the nightstand for his phone he grumbled and set down seeing it wasn’t ringing. “Not mine,” he rumbled moving his hand to smooth across your back again drawing you closer with his forehead tapping to yours.
Behind you Lee found his pants and said, “Not mine,” sighing as he reached out tugging your pants closer from your pocket he brought your ringing phone, “Yours Jaqi.”
Richard sighed again and while your mind still settled to the fact that you and Richard were naked out of instinct you rolled onto your side with hand raised to accept the phone you read the name and sighed reading Jennifer Garner’s number you grumbled and answered, “Hey Jen,”
A sniffle later and while Lee, also clearly naked settled out beside you, she sobbed out, “I’m leaving Scott.” Smoothing a hand over your face she said, “I’ve called a lawyer and I just have to get out of here. How is Canada?”
“It’s cold, tons of snow coming,”
She sniffled again and said through clearly packing a bag, “Good, I could use some snow. I’ll let you know where I settle in,”
“Ya, I can have you for lunch when you get here.” She traded good days and you hung up settling your phone on top of your belly as the duo cuddled closer to you. “Jen’s coming to town, getting divorced.”
To that Richard rumbled, “No, no bad mood,” planting a kiss on your neck followed by another on your lips in the start of a trail down your torso. Smirking drowsily on your side Lee leaned in glad to have another chance to kiss you again. The night before obviously fueled by the wine at the mention that you had brought the kit of toys from New York hoping to give them back to him not needing them anymore clearly in case he might find someone to be in a relationship with. The morning was clearly going to be awkward and a second call from a friend back in New York had you in a sweater fetching a drink while the guys pulled on their underwear and sweats.
Now was when the awkward set in for the guys, or Lee at least. From the edge of the bed Richard glanced to Lee at his second glance his way making Richard say, “Oh stop, I think we’re a touch past bashful glances, don’t you?”
Lee looked him over asking, “We kissed. Touched-. Have you, have you had threesomes before?”
“No,” Richard sighed out smoothing his hand through his hair, “But I’ve had partners who’ve suggested it before, never got there though.”
Lee asked with brows furrowing, “Partners, not girlfriends?”
“I’ve dated men before,” That had Lee’s brows arch upwards, “Though it was always frivolous. A lot of charismatic people in musical theater. Focused on more scratching their itches to keep them content when it came to sex that I just never felt. Never even really bonded with anyone before, never truly loved anyone before. Sex was never truly gratifying at all preferring a more domestic side to relationships, but now I’m with Jaqi that’s all changed. And it’s absolutely fantastic that when I met her she felt the same way about relationships, though she’s never showed an interest in women before it’s more than comforting to have someone who is the same as me.”
Lee, “So, you think Jaqi’s gay too?” He wet his lips, “I mean, she likes us, well she loves you, no question,”
Richard cut him off by chuckling at his try to correct his wording, “Haven’t found a label for anything concerning Jaqi yet, good luck with that one,” making Lee smirk and nod, “I do hope you’ll help keep her from moping while I have to head to Europe.”
Lee’s hands fixed around his shirt on his lap, “I always try to keep her from moping, not counting with that Jordan debacle.” Wetting his lips again he asked, “How long till you come back?”
“I won’t, unfortunately, when filming is through here for you both she’s sending the furniture to her place in New York while I’m working in England. She’s got some free time there through the Daredevil premier till she heads to England.”
Lee asked after wetting his lips again, “You don’t like me, do you?” That made Richard smirk again, “Because you’re supposed to be proposing to her.” Right off Richard’s brow ticked up, “I saw you walk out of that jewelry shop, when are you proposing?”
“I am still working on that.”
Lee whispered, “But you have a ring?”
“I have one, my brother’s helping me come up with a plan. Easier back in England.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
“Keep her from moping, least you could do for your girlfriend. I smell breakfast, come get some food.” He said standing up to head to the kitchen. Once there he grinned easing his hand across your belly to peer over your shoulder pressing a kiss to your free cheek as the other was holding your phone. “I’ve got it, Love,” he murmured into your ear guiding you away from the oven to take over cooking smirking as he caught your turn in time for Lee to come into the kitchen.
Passing you Lee leaned in to kiss your cheek too and got to helping with the food, not too long after you hung up and turned to set the table for the three of you. “What are you two up to later?” Lee asked looking you both over taking a bite of his food.
“I have to read through tomorrow’s script still, that reservation episode is still driving me up the wall,” gaining a smirk from Lee, “And you won’t help either antagonizing me the whole time.”
Richard hummed, “What are you up to?” lifting his mug for a sip.
Lee, “Just the go-kart race track with the guys. You can come too if you like?” He looked to you as you lowered your fork lifting a finger while you chewed, “Right, Jen is coming down.”
“Maybe next time. Plenty of time to shame the guys on the track yet.”
Lee post smirk wet his lips and drew in a breath, “I can eat at mine tonight,”
Richard smirked saying, “No need for that. If she’s wanting time with Jaqi we can help to keep Jen’s mind off her soon to be ex.”
Swallowing your mouthful you said, “I don’t even know why she called me other than I’m out here away from everyone else.”
The guys both said, “You’re her friend.”
Richard continued, “If I was going through that I’d want you to be with me. Even the other Jen calls on her rough days,”
Lee, “And Naomi let you in on her plan. Said she was torn between the roles. Has she called since you got the role?”
“Well, they still haven’t gone public yet, and she said she’d be off to email only on her new project thanks to shoddy reception.”
Richard, “Should be some interesting fireworks then.”
The conversation veered around to other things that could be done through the week noticed from trips around town. And once cleaned up at the time Lee said, “Better get a shower in before the guys get here, you two have fun,” his move in wasn’t missed and right on the lips he claimed a sweet kiss and smiled in his pull back.
“No kiss for me?” Richard teased.
With a shake of his head Lee chuckled to himself and at Richard’s step over they traded pecks on the cheek and Lee said, “Have fun you giant teddy bear.” Turning for the door to let himself out through another lingering smile your way.
Behind the closed door Richard smiled easing closer to you in the shift of your eyes to him. Straight to your hips his hands settled and smoothed upwards in his lean in to begin a trail of his lips down your neck, “While we’re alone, let me give you a rubdown and draw us up a bath my Love.”
Smirk melting across your lips your hands eased up around his shoulders in the firm smooth of hands up your sides onto your back, “I love you, you know that.”
Lowly he chuckled against your neck tightening his arms to lift you up and carry you to the bedroom to lay you out. Kneeling above you again he hummed continuing the kisses along your neck with hands working against your back firmly unable to move at the thighs holding him in place in this loving embrace. To your forehead his moved with a tap of noses at the sudden sniffle from your seeing the pants Lee had left on the end of the bed in fetching your phone. “I love you, it’s me and you always. Lee’s always been there, it’s always been us three. Not sure if he’ll be wanting another three way tumble, but it’s always gonna be you and me, no matter who he flits off to.”
Anxiously you wet your lips and you asked, “You think he’ll want to again, us three?”
“I think it had a lot to do with the wine, we did pop the third before the teasing started. Honestly I don’t know what he wants or would want, I know he still loves you and he’s comfortable sleeping with you after you were his first, hard to shut you off, I was miserable without you. For now, until I have to go and get naked for someone else I’d like to keep cuddled up with you while I can.” Stealing another kiss to your lips he hummed, “So no tears about last night.”
Weakly you said, “I didn’t plan-,”
“I know, and I doubt he did. He’s been picking up hints from your dad no doubt and has been asking about our future plans. He knows it’s you and me always. I know I hurt you when I slept with Tiffany, and there is no chance I would ever think you would do anything like that, and I will never hint otherwise. We chose together the three of us, I know your past and his feelings and I’m not threatened by that to dare to say anything hurtful about it. Please don’t be scared this does nothing to damage us at all.” Sweetly in a partial pout he asked, “Now can I flip you over and rub your back?” Up you lifted and stole a kiss of your own letting your legs loose granting your chuckling Mate to start the rubdown starting the afternoon of cuddling post bath to a show on tv.
“I love you, so much more than oceans can fight.” You murmured clinging closer to his side stretched out on the couch widening his already bright smile from the kiss you planted on his neck and burrow of your head there gripping at his shirt in a try to bring him closer to you.
“Oceans don’t stand a chance, my formidable Love,” he hummed back adjusting the blanket and his arms more across your back feeling you drifting off to sleep. Keeping you there until a convenient stretch from you a while later let him climb up out of your hold to hurry to the bath to relieve his bursting bladder. Jen Garner had arrived and asked to have lunch the next day hoping for a long nights rest and meal alone to deflate granting the three of you to blend back into another tame supper and night apart once your sheets were dried and the bed made again.
.
Quiet out of the bath while you remained asleep, now on the bed, Richard crept. Walking in the path of light lit by the lowly glowing aquarium lamp with tiny floating fish inside giving off bubble sounds on the shelves along the wall as a sort of nightlight used thanks to the trains of big rigs that woke you up in their path behind the building from the warehouse a while down the road in your first week there. He never got an answer for what nightmare they set off to have you jolt out of bed near to screaming halfway already to tears. Something he hoped was coincidental or drawn from a horror film of some sort. All the same while that usual train of big rigs came through sounding off he smiled to the sight of those unruly curls sprawled about halfway into your face nestled into the pillow supporting it and arms above your head matching the awkward sprawl of your legs. Impatient to sleep to bask in the time to cuddle even when unconscious with him now turned over when he slipped out of bed.
Sheets half strewn and wrinkled beyond repair until he would come back righting them to draw close to your side again. Somehow the notion was back on his mind, your wedding night, just that first night where you were secured together having vowed to be bound to one another forever. Deep back in the closet even in the dark he found the hiding place for the rings he had made up and once that cold metal touched his palm from your ring he slipped his ring right on his ring finger smiling to himself in the dark. Slowly he crept closer with yours in hand and to the bed he went hovering over you finding the right finger that after a few hushed huffs of hot air inside the ring to not jolt you awake.
Rather easily it slid over your lowest knuckle inching his smile painfully wider at the perfect fit, that smile dropped however at your brows scrunching up and body tucking to roll over onto your side stirring an urge to tell you to stop or turn back. Instantly his hands were over his mouth in his wide eyed stare in your settling back into the bed. Right up under the pillow your left arm curled and he caught his opening, around the bed up to the headboard he crept resting his hand on the wood frame to reach out lifting the edge of the pillow slow and steady. Sideways around your fingers his hovered to rest on the metal, down to your face from the ring his eyes darted and leaning in he pressed his lips to your cheek stirring a shift in your body aiding in the subtle tug of the ring. Back into his palm it was tucked and in a step back he let out a breath turning to head back and hide the rings away again smile back noting that the fit was just perfect.
“Richy,” lowly you whined to the sound of the engines cranking up again in the shift of gears hastening his rush to tuck the rings back in their place and turn to be back.
“Right here,” he said from the closet luring a disapproving slumbering huff in response hurrying him along to silence any shadow hidden pout sure to follow. “Right here,” he hummed again sliding back into bed drawing your shifting self to his chest again tangling with you to his favorite position halfway across your body granting tons of sleepy kisses to your cheek and nose to help you stir.
*
Halfway sprawled over Lee woke for his waking trip to the toilet groaning, barely able to make it there before his body dropped to the floor. “Agh,” he groaned wincing at the excruciating pain radiating from his right side upwards. To his knees he managed with tears threatening to pool into his eyes from the pain to the far wall of his bedroom where he managed to drop to his side whispering, “Jaqi-,” curling a fist he took a pained swing failing to catch his breath.
On the other side of the wall softly you grumbled in your sleep at the thump spoiling your late morning off in bed. Into your neck Richard huffed only to grumble himself at the second thump. “Lee have-,”
Two more thumps came quickly opening the Brit’s eyes making him lift his head as you turned yours with hearts quickening at the trio of thumps coming next and a muffled sound of what could be a groan. Together up you popped and hurried to pull on clothes and slippers, the last thing you grabbed was your key ring including the spare to his apartment he’d given you upon moving in for a spare to yours and out you shot. Straight to his door you went with Richard locking yours behind you to race inside his after you, “Lee?” You panted out answered by a pained groan.
“I can’t-,” he groaned out setting his head on the floor with eyes shut hearing you entering his bedroom.
“Lee,” you said on the way over to drop at his side looking him over as Richard stopped in the doorway inspecting the scene himself. “Is it your head, or stomach?”
“I stood up, and,” he panted again, “Just, this pain up my side.”
“Right side?” You asked and he nodded. “Okay,” you said easing his shirt up, “I’m gonna press on your side, it’s gonna hurt.” He groaned but clenched his eyes at Richard’s move closer to watch you press into his right side, the press made him groan but clenching into a ball he groaned loader at your hand releasing.
“Why did you do that?” gritting his teeth the pain now had tears in his eyes.
“That’s the appendix.”
“I’m gonna get you up, Lee, Jaqi you can get the car.” You nodded accepting the keys from him as Richard tucked Lee in his arms and lifted him bridal style only luring another groan, “I know it hurts but over the shoulder will be worse.” Around the room you grabbed his phone, wallet and keys leading the way out and locking up to the lot where you brought the car over opening the door from inside for Lee to be eased and buckled into the seat. Locking eyes with Richard panting for air through the pain he groaned again and Richard said, “Just sit tight, hospital in no time.” From the front to back seat he moved closing the doors behind him to buckle in as you turned the wheel starting the drive as Lee tired to relax back against the seat with eyes closed.
“Just another block,” you said at the final light seeing the hospital in sight, “Then they’ll get you fixed up.”
“My,” he panted out and inhaled to pant out, “my mom,”
“I’ll call them when we get you booked in.”
Richard said, “My brother had his appendix out when we were kids it’s quite a simple surgery and you weren’t half as bad as he was, painted half our bedroom by the time we found out it wasn’t a stomach bug.”
You nodded as Lee looked your way, “Three of my cousins’ kids have had them and two of my cousins, even my uncles have scars from theirs when dad was raising them. I’ve even looked into it, small cut and some clamps and then cut and singe off the tube thingy going to the appendix and it’s done, feel so much better after.”
Lee, “Have you had the surgery?”
“No, but I have had my tonsils out,” you said glancing to the halfway smirking Lee, “I know it’s not the same, but it kinda is, you can live without both of them.”
Lee panted out, “What I get,” making you look at him again from the road then back again, “pretending to sleep with Tracy.”
“Oh I highly doubt that is what did it,” Richard hummed helping to keep Lee upright in the final turns. Parked in the closest spot at the emergency room you both got out with Richard unbuckling Lee he eased his arms around again, “Almost there big guy.” You shut the car and shivered in the rush across the crosswalk.
The sight of the tall person being carried in had a gurney brought over and as Lee stretched out you said, “His appendix. I don’t think he’s been sick. Found him on the floor.” Sharing his blood type and a bad reaction to a medication he was given as a kid to help him pass something he swallowed making a couple nurses smirk at the irrelevant medication but glad all the same to have been informed of the reaction all the same.
Lee’s hand gripped yours and he said, “Jaqi-,” as the doctor from the ER called for an operating room to be prepped and nurses to bring over the prepping IV.
“Cut, clamp, cut, singe, stitch, done. We’re right here,” he drew in another breath letting you go at your peck on his cheek, letting the staff take over at Richard’s confirming pat on his shoulder through the confirming press the Doctor gave to his side.
Holding the clipboard you sat with Lee’s wallet filling in everything you could with Richard beside you stroking your back and walked over taking the papers for you and the nurse there said they had wheeled Lee back. “Thank you,” he said and turned to go back and bring you into his side pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Just took him back, his parents answer yet?”
“No,” you said still holding Lee’s phone, “Will’s on a trip and they’re out in Oklahoma with his sister. I said he’ll be fine.”
“He will be, you gonna call work? Let them know?”
That had your head turn to see the flashes from outside of the two photographers who had been camped out at your place since Jen had come to town hoping to catch her dropping by as her hotel had stricter surgery. “They’re not up for a few hours at least. Still dark out. I’ll call in the morning.”
Not even ten minutes into the first magazine Richard had brought over the phone began to ring and answering the call you said, “Mr Pace, ya hey, Lee’s still in surgery but he seemed to be early on in symptoms. The doctor didn’t seem bothered by anything.”
“Well,” he cleared his throat, “That sounds good, um, we can’t exactly fly out,” he said clearly having just woken up to check on his sick mom they’d flown out to help with the family home.
“Oh no I get that. We’re here I just wanted you guys to know. I’ll keep you posted and have Lee call you later.”
“Thank you Jaqi, really. Couldn’t have happened at a worse time when at least his mom couldn’t fly out.” A voice calling out had him saying, “Um,”
“That’s ok, I got him here, you take care of Gran Pace few days and he should be up and ready to go.”
“We’ll talk later, thank you Jaqi.” He hung up and you smoothed a hand over your forehead stealing another glance at the growing number of flashes through the opening doors as another patient arrived until a ring from your own cell phone drew your focus.
Your dad’s number was on the screen and you answered, “Dad?”
“Pumpkin, whose hurt? My friend up there said you’re on the news you’re at the hospital?”
“Lee’s appendix is giving him trouble,” that had him exhale in relief, “Ya, Rich carried him in and they’ve got him on the table now.” You wet your lips, “It’s on the news and they didn’t say who was sick?”
“They just saw you with a guy carrying another guy to the hospital. He alright?”
“Scared,” you said, “But shouldn’t be long now and I think work should be fine giving him a few days easy work. Sorry we worried you.”
“No, worry me, any time. Both you kids up there we need to worry from time to time. You ok?”
“Good, he was just on the floor when we found him. You ok? They didn’t wake you up?”
“Up to the sheep here in a bit, not too early, Pumpkin. All good here. Looks like the biggest birthing year yet coming up, they’re glad to have me around again for some more heavy lifting. But I’m never more than a flight away, don’t want to use up all your minutes, but call me if you need to talk ok? I love you.”
“Love you, Daddy, I will, hug the sheep for me.” Earning a chuckle from him before the call ended.
Pt 36
Hobbit – Soulmate - @evyiione, @deepestfirefun, @rhaenaatargaryen, @anastasialovers
X all Rich. A - @abiwim, @deepestfirefun, @thestorybookmistress
X Lee P - @tigereyesf
All –
@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore, @mariannetora, @shes-a-killer-kween, @ggbbhehe4455
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Diary of a Junebug
Off on a nautical adventure!
We're sailing the Stone Glass Seas, exploring uncharted territory and enjoying the breeze. Rocky and Chrissie are here with some friends to go on a sailing adventure where they happened to run into Gulliver. So they made a stop at the camp and invited us campers to tag along because the more, the merrier!
It feels like forever since Rocky went sailing, which seems surprising since that's his thing. But with him and Lex busy with Talia and now Kessa, sailing has taken kind of a backseat. Of course, Rocky showed us pics of baby Kessa - who is adorable - and Talia, who's walking and talking now. As for Rocky and Lex's wedding, they're aiming for next year - preferably before baby number three comes along, they joke.
Now that Rocky and Lex are out of the newborn stage and have fully adjusted to two babies, they finally have some time to themselves. Chrissie's been helping out a lot as well as serving as sort of a peacemaker between Rocky and their uncle. It's not that they don't get along, it's just that McMann's the old fashioned type so the fact that his bisexual nephew's in a relationship with an enby and they have two kids while unmarried is kinda hard for him to wrap his head around. He does like Lex though and is actively making an effort not to misgender them and such, so at least there's that.
Joining them is Emma with her nieces and nephew. Emma just made the move to Cityburg about a month ago to move in with her brother and his kids. Despite working her ass off for six years in college, Emma was down on her luck, forced to live off her parents. When they told her that they were gonna kick her out, Danny stepped in, which they weren't too happy about. The kids are all for it as Emma's the favorite (and only) aunt and Danny could really use the help.
Margie, Rusty, and Linda like having Emma around and she likes being with them. Danny's a nightclub entertainer at the Cocktail Cabana who occasionally travels so he's not home all the time. Things haven't been easy since his husband and eldest daughter passed away last year, forcing Margie to take over as caretaker as well as housekeeper. While Emma and Margie have always gotten along like sisters, there has been some undercurrents as to who runs things around the house.
When the twins invited Emma to go sailing, she suggested bringing the kids along since Danny will be traveling that week and the kids are off from school. Emma also hopes to work things out with Margie, who she thinks has forgotten how to be a teenager. Now that we've been out on the sea for a couple days, I can see what she means. We all feel bad for Margie as she was forced to grow up quickly and as a result, she also became protective of her family.
Rusty and Linda are up to their own mischievous ways as usual, always keeping Emma and Margie on their toes. Sherry's presence is sorely missed - she was more than just Margie's partner in crime, she was also the ringleader of the Amos-Thomas siblings. A part of me had hoped that Sherry would make a miraculous recovery, but as time went on, all hopes of that diminished.
On a side note, Sherry would've turned sixteen last week - and the month before would've been Terry's birthday. So that's another reason why Emma decided to take the kids along - to give them a distraction so they won't be at each other's throats. And it's definitely been helping, especially for Rusty and Linda, who are having a great time right now. I think it's working for Emma and Margie too - or at least Emma can talk to her without feeling like she's walking on eggshells. I hope things work out for them.
While on our way to Wavy Shores, we ran into Gulliver, making his round trips as usual. Along with the usual treats he brings back, he also has some passengers tagging along. Through his travels, Gulliver often runs into villagers - most who I've never met before - and sometimes they join him on his voyage, later joining us at the camp. I'm pretty sure Gulliver talks up about the camp but I'm not complaining - the more, the merrier! So not only we got treats and maps, but also new friends to look forward to when we get back.
Wavy Shores definitely lives up to its name. Dixie first came across this place by accident and became mesmerized by the landscape. Given her stories about the shores, Rocky had to see it for himself. In fact, a good number of the places on the itinerary - aside from uncharted territory we plan on exploring - were places Dixie have been to. Rocky's been living the dream spending a lot of time with Dixie as she's basically a role model for him, the one who taught him how to sail. It's cute seeing his eyes light up whenever he talks about Dixie!
Everything in Wavy Shores is, well, wavy. Even the sky looks like a blend of wavy colors, contrasting with the sand dunes, the rocks, and the deep blue sea. It's so fascinating to look at - nature is amazing!
To the southwest is Polka Dot Leaf, a floating island known for its coral castle ruins. The exact location is a bit tricky to pinpoint because the island tends to shift due to the rough waters. We lucked out as around this time of year the seas are much calmer so it's all smooth sailing from there - I'd hate to get stuck in the middle of a storm.
The reason why it's called Polka Dot Leaf is because from above that's what the island looks like. It's one of those places that nature is slowly reclaiming, overgrown with seaweed brambles and seabloom blossoms. Walking into a coral castle ruin feels surreal, like I'm expecting the room to transform into another world.
What happened to the island's inhabitants remain a mystery, which adds to the appeal and mystique. Bedrooms with unmade beds, a kitchen sink full of chipped dishes, a desk full of yellowed papers covered in scribbles, a basket of laundry waiting to be folded - all of that, frozen in time. So many untold stories left behind.
To the east lies Summer Grove, a rainforest that is home to many rare butterflies. I've never seen so many colorful butterflies at once! All those colors and shapes - it's amazing to witness! Not to mention how majestic the butterflies are, fluttering about against a sea of green. We also enjoyed the tropical fruits and swimming at the lagoon. The weather was incredibly warm, but not overly humid or hot - which I'm grateful for or else I wouldn't have been able to appreciate the scenery as much and that would be a huge shame.
Then north we went through the Pearl Breeze Current to the idyllic mountains of Quill. Sailing through the Pearl Breeze is no easy feat as the current can be quite tricky to navigate, especially if you're not an experienced sailor. We were on the edge of our seats in our life jackets, holding our breaths while Rocky braved the waters. It was rough, but we made it!
A couple hours later we made it to the mountains and checked into a hotel for a well deserved rest. It's a good thing we weren't too far from land because I wasn't sure how much longer I could handle being at sea after the ordeal with the Pearl Breeze. Aside from a bad headache, an early rest did the trick along with some aspirin and a cool wet cloth.
The next day we went hiking in the mountains, where we came across a cave full of paintings and little iridescent crystals. Exploring the cave was a lot of fun, especially for the kids. Margie and Chrissie put their Chickadee Scout skills to use by guiding us through the tunnels, leading us to an old fountain covered in gothic roses. At first we thought the fountain was broken, until Rusty noticed that the overgrown foliage had blocked something. After a lot of tugging and pulling, a huge burst of water came out, soaking all of us. It was like the fountain came to life, showering us with crystal clear water and gothic rose petals.
On the way back to the hotel we stopped by a shop to change into some dry clothes. Everything looked so nice that it was hard to choose what to wear! Lately I've been into muted neutrals and florals and the store just happened to cater to my interests. Eventually I settled on a dusky pink floral dress with a maroon cardigan and then splurged on a lacy white blouse paired with a brown floral skirt. And then after that we browsed some other shops before grabbing dinner and heading back to the hotel.
Westward bound we headed to Greenaway, an archipelago known for its rare and unusual gems. At the center of the island is the famous volcano, a marvelous sight to see according to many adventurers. Rocky and Chrissie's uncle visited there about thirty years ago, witnessing an eruption when the village he was staying at was forced to evacuate. Since then that part of the island has been abandoned, though as of last year part of the outskirts is no longer restricted to the public.
Chrissie was hoping to find the house McMann rented along with some stuff he had to leave behind. It was long shot, especially since most of the area's buried in volcanic ash, but we figured that it wouldn't hurt to take a look - as long as it's safe. So we did, and as expected, we couldn't get too far because the entire village's pretty much gone. But we were able to figure out the area where McMann stayed based on the lamppost that served as a landmark - one of the few things that wasn't entirely buried in ash or destroyed in the eruption. It's eerie, looking at the remains of what was once a busy place.
Now we're sailing north, to Sunstone Caves. According to Dixie, the island's a floating desert in the middle of nowhere. It's a long ride - at least three days - so we have to be prepared for anything. While out on sea, especially with no landmarks to spot or keep us on track, time can stretch and bend in unpredictable ways. Luckily we're well stocked with supplies and good company so that'll make the time go by smoothly.
Being out here surrounded by sea and sky, it makes me feel so small. Compared to the sea, I'm a tiny little speck floating about. There's so much of the world around me, so much that I don't know about - it's something that keeps me going. The fact that there's so much to see, to explore, to experience - sometimes you get lucky and suddenly all these far off places you've never dreamed of seeing are within your grasp.
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🍁🍄 for Nova and maybe Sage if u want
🍄 What are your OCs favourite snacks? Their favourite comfort food which always cheers them up when they’re down? Favourite meal to make? Do they enjoy baking and cooking and are they any good in the kitchen?
Nova: He doesn’t eat the best of food. Since radiation doesn’t effect him you can catch him chowing down on some cooked Gekco he bought outside of free side with a side of Sugar Bombs. His favorite comfort food is either a cup of noodles or on rare occasion, a pre war steak, they’re pretty rare but he loves them. He can cook well enough, technically he doesn’t have to eat but he does anyway and is fond of making omelets.
Sage: Her favorite snack is chocolate, it’s expensive and she’s very broke but she likes to splurge on herself once in a while and buy herself some. Cripps doesn’t appreciate her not sharing though. Her favorite comfort food is pie, she gets tired of savory stuff being forced to eat stew everyday and when she finally gets something sweet it makes her melt. Her favorite meal to cook herself is steak, she can’t cook well but she can cook steak well, so she takes pride in it and even buys it herself because there’s not many cows around.
🍁 Where does your OC go when they need to have some time to themself? Would they ever have their own “comfort corner” filled with all the things they like? Do they have a favourite spot outside that feels like its theirs and theirs alone?
Nova: Nova goes to the sink at Big Mt, he feels safe in his room surrounded by the appliances, it really feels like his because even though its lively it feels like his own little world. Generally he keeps all of his items there, bringing entertainment for himself and junk he finds around the Mojave to tinker with and give the scraps to Muggy. Outside he has a place in a cave just ouside of New Vegas where the legendary Nightcrawler lives, he has animal friend perk and they love him just as much as he loves them. They’re basically his dogs.
Sage: Ever since Sage was broken out of prision she never feels safe, even if what they’re doing is illegal she always feels like shes on the run. Whe she needs time to herself she goes on rides on Becky and he just trots along the road until Sage feels better. She just gets lost in her thoughts, humming and grooming Becky. She eventually makes it to Horseshoe Overlook and thats where she likes to set up camp, the spot is beautiful and the view is amazing, just hidden enough she can feel safe and alone.
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