#how bout them spies huh

[lovemaybeecomic]

E…spionage 🕵️‍♀️

#love maybee #lmb #art #comedy #comic #lesbian #mini comic #nblw #sapphic #slice of life #webcomic #wlw #btw #happy autism awareness month #how bout them spies huh

[teenandbeyond]

Hello! If it's not too much to ask, can I request Raph with a s.o. who will get really obsessed about something (like a show or a book) and start talking about it excitedly before quickly apologizing for rambling and shuts down? Like, they've been told their whole life that no one wants to hear about their obsessions/they talk too much? And Raph notices and comforts them? Thank you so much and have a lovely day/night!

Raphael x Reader

This is really cute, sure!

Want more from me? Masterlist 2

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

🧶Talk to Me🧶 (TMNT or Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles)

Warning(s): Fluff

When you get excited, you start to ramble...a lot. You're surprised when Raph is the first to listen to every word with no complaint.

✨✨✨✨

You flip to the next page of the comic you were reading, feet kicking back and forth as you patiently waited for Raphael to arrive.

"Hey, when'd you get 'ere?"

You tore your gaze away from the beautiful art, trading it for his grin that far surpassed the beauty of the pages.

"Not too long ago, figured I'd surprise ya' when you got back from patrol," you shut the comic, giving him full attention, "How was it by the way, good, I'm assuming?"

"Borin'," he groaned, kissing your head before moving around you to the fridge not too far away.

You snorted, "Boring is better than fighting evil."

"Yeah, but not as fun," Raph took a bite of cold pizza.

"For you, maybe, adrenaline junkie."

He tilted his head in agreeance, silently lifting up a bottle of water.

You smiled, "Sure, thanks."

Grabbing his own bottle, he picked you up with an arm to sit with him in a chair.

"There...now everythin's perfect," he sighed.

You rolled your eyes playfully, "Oh, yes. Raphael's definitely not the affectionate type."

"I'm not," he denied, only to nuzzle into your neck.

"The only one who believes that is you," you flip open your comic again.

"Whatcha' readin'?"

You brightened at the question, "It's this new series that came out."

"Oh? What's it about?"

"Well, it's about this gang of ex-spies turned mercenaries that save people all over space! And they're all women, which is pretty cool, they're badass..." you went into a ramble about many details, your comic long forgotten on your lap.

"Really? Sounds like you like it a lot," he caressed your thigh.

"Yeah...Um...Sorry, I didn't..." your smile slowly dropped and so did your gaze of embarrassment.

He didn't need to see your face to notice the drop in mood, "What did ya' stop for, baby?"

You're silent for a moment.

Then you clench your jaw, "I don't want to talk your ear off, I know I talk a lot and you don't want to hear all that--"

"I like listenin' to you talk about the things ya' like," he wrapped his arms around you, "It's one of my favorite things."

"Huh?" you frown.

He gives gentle neck kisses, ""It's cute. The best feelin' is when I'm all grumpy and you start talking 'bout what made your day. Whoever you're talkin' bout' that doesn't wanna hear you talk is missin' out. Cause I wanna hear every word. I'm not crazy like them."

"But I can be an annoying person--"

He shrugged, "--Okay, well, if you were actually annoying, I'd still listen to ya' anyway."

"You'll get tired of me..."

"I'll get tired of Leo way before I'd get tired of you. Me gettin' tired of you is as likely as Mikey becomin' an Einstein like Donnie."

You elbow him gently from behind, "Mikey is smart! He just...doesn't need to prove himself."

"Sure."

"I'm serious! Don't shade my baby like that!"

"[Name]...Can you keep talking? I like hearing you nerd out about stuff ya' like," he whispered.

You snuggled into him more, "Okay...Like what?"

He tickled your sides, "Don't be so awkward, I'm not quizzin' ya'. Just talk about anything."

Your smile took over again, "All right, hm...Oh! Did you hear about..."

Raph smiled as you rambled again, very attentive to you as your spoke.

He was absolutely, utterly, in love with you.

#tmnt fluff #tmnt raphael #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt bayverse #raphael #raphael x reader #raphael fluff #fluff

[kaistarus]

Mistexting Mayhem

Pairing: Nishinoya X Reader

Words: 1.6K

Summary: You accidentally send Nishinoya a text that was meant for Yachi and now he’s knows secrets you were hoping he never found out

A/N: If you think this fic is anything but crack you’re wrong lmao I’ve always wanted to write a fic with this style and Noya is great for the chaos i needed. It was fun

Masterlist

[6:40pm] idiot⚡: look y/n without adhd id be too powerful

                         i could beet god himself in handtohand combat

                         god was afraid of my raw fuckin awesomeness wen i bursted from the woom

[6:41pm] y/n: there is so much wrong with what u just said

[6:41pm] idiot⚡: i have absoltly no clue wat

[6:43pm] y/n: put those 3 brain cells to work. I believe in you

[6:43pm] idiot⚡: but theyve reached their daily quota

                          plz there so tired and overworked

You snorted, a dopey smile on your lips as you laid surrounded by textbooks and homework, swinging your feet in the air behind you. You focused intently on the cell phone in your hand doing everything you could to procrastinate the schoolwork around you.

[6:44pm] y/n: noyas so stupid

[6:44pm] yachi❤: i thought you liked him?

[6:45pm] y/n: jeez Yachi. dont come for my throat

                       i cant help that i have bad taste 🙄

[6:46pm] yachi❤: if it helps he tripped over a stray ball today

                               maybe think of that till you don’t like him??

Unfortunately, the image of Nishinoya waving to everyone then biffing it only had you smiling like a dork. How you’d gotten to a point that Nishinoya being an idiot made you swoon, you’ll never know.

You raised your eyebrow suspiciously at the new notification on Snapchat from ‘Tanaka’ and after swiping it open you nearly dropped your phone. Looking back at you was Nishinoya, his head tilted and eyebrow quirked in confusion with a gari-gari kun shoved halfway down his throat. The caption at the bottom reading ‘daaaammn look at your prince charming go 😩’.

You frowned at the picture, letting out a frustrated groan at how your heart accelerated against your ribcage. You quickly tapped out of it and reopened the messenger app.

[6:57pm] y/n: we have to kill Noya

[6:57pm] idiot⚡: we??? what kind of mission is this??? 😤

[6:58pm] y/n: i like him too much. he has to die. its for my own good

You waited impatiently for her response and almost debated doing your homework since it took longer than you felt necessary. You supposed you had suggested murder to Yachi, but still…

When you finally received a response your entire body froze.

[7:11pm] idiot⚡: U LIKE ME?!?!? 😍

                          UR KILLING ME?!?! 😢

                          IM SO CONFUSED......

                          and a lil turned on ngl👀

Your hand covered your mouth in horror as you processed what the hell you had just done. This didn’t happen to people in real life. Mistexting was stuff people made up when they created fake texts for social media to get likes. You didn’t think people actually went through this.

You opened new notifications to escape the hell that stared you straight in the face.

[7:15pm] Tanaka💪: Yo, whatd u do. Whys Noya having a panic attak

[7:16pm] y/n: I accidently texted him instead of Yachi and told him i liked him 😣

[7:16pm] Tanaka💪: O wtf thats hilarious 😂

[7:17pm] y/n: ITS NOT HILArIOUS

[7:18pm] Tanaka💪: Hes askin if its a prank. Wat do i do?

[7:19pm] y/n:I DONT KNOW SDKFHJN IM THE IDIOT WHO STSRTED IT

He stopped responding and you banged your head against your pillow anxiously.

[7:23pm] y/n: YACHI ITOLD NoYA I LKED HIM AND NOU HE NOS WAY DO JI DO!?!????! 😭😭😭

[7:23pm] idiot⚡: THIS ISNT YACHI!!!!

                           HOLY FUKC U DO LIEK ME!!!

You screamed into your pillow. Were you fucking kidding? This could not be happening.

[7:25pm] Tanaka💪: dude, twice? i cant save u now 🤪

[7:25pm] y/n: betraying me in my time of fucking need? i’ll remember this asshole

[7:26pm] Tanaka💪: so vulgar 👀

You growled at Tanaka’s uselessness and bravely peeked through one eye as you went back to your conversation with Nishinoya.

[7:24pm] idiot⚡: STOP IGNORING ME I KNO UR TEXTING RYU

[7:26pm] idiot: IM GONNA KEEP SPAMMING U TILL U ANSWE RME😤

[7:26pm] idiot⚡: 1

                          2

                          3

                          4

                          5

                           6

                           7

                           8

                           9

[7:27pm] y/n: what is this twitch chat? fuck 

[7:28pm] idiot⚡: your heeeeererererreee 🥰

[7:29pm] y/n: soooooo………..

                        clearly there has been a misunderstanding

[7:29pm] idiot⚡: oh nonono. I understand PERFETCLY. u LOVE me

                         its ok. this is a safe space. we can discuss feelings 😌

[7:31pm] y/n: there are zero feelings to discuss

[7:31pm] idiot⚡: then y did u say u like me too much so i have to die?

[7:34pm] y/n: i am filled with rage 🤬

[7:34pm] idiot⚡: rage over how much u liiike me???🥰🥰🥰

[7:36pm] y/n: definitely not

You racked your brain for some kind of reasonable sounding excuse, eventually landing on:

[7:36pm] y/n: It was autocorrect

[7:36pm] idiot⚡: HAH????? FROM?????

[7:38pm] y/n: HAH???

                       ....Nora?

[7:38pm] idiot⚡: Who TF is nora???? 😡

[7:39pm] y/n: someoe i like obviously 😏

[7:40pm] idiot⚡: so u like them but u use my name so much it autocorrected to me? 🤔

[7:44pm] y/n: OK MR DETEcTIVE WHERE TF ARE THES BRAIN CELS COMIN GFROM?

[7:45pm] idiot⚡: i pull them out for special ocasions 😌

[7:45pm] y/n: well how bout you pack those up and put em away

[7:46pm] idiot⚡: how bout two people who LIKE each other SAY something so they can DOOOOOOOO something bout IT 🙄

You began typing a frantic message about how it was none of his business until you processed the message. Then you read it over several times before letting out an audible, “what the fuck.”

[7:50pm] y/n: YOU LIKE ME

[7:50pm] idiot⚡: I FLIRT WITH U ALL THE TIME WAT DO U MEAN yOu LiKe Me!?!

                          FUCKING OBVIOSLY

[7:51pm] y/n: literally when. name one time.

[7:52pm] idiot⚡: I WALK WITH U EVERY MORNING!!!

[7:53pm] y/n: I thought that was a coincidence???

[7:54pm] idiot⚡: I BRNIG U SNACKS DURING LUNCH!!!

[7:54pm] y/n: I thought they were leftovers??

[7:55pm] idiot⚡: …....I call you cute and invite you to my games.

[7:56pm] y/n: you call everyone attractive and i thought there was like a audience quota or something........?

[7:57pm] idiot⚡: ….i cant tell who i should be upset with rn but i think its u 😑

[7:58pm] y/n: WAT WHY!?!

[8:00pm] Idiot⚡: I LIKE U+U LIKE ME=WE LIKE EACH OTHER

[8:01pm] y/n: whoa. slow down. I hate math 😣

[8:02pm] Idiot⚡: ===WE SHUD GO ON A DATE!!!

[8:02pm] y/n: HAH!? i think you started multiplying that addition problem buddy 🤨

Your cheeks were beginning to ache from how wide your dopey grin was. You couldn’t help but tease Nishinoya-it was second nature at this point-even if you now knew your feelings were mutual.

[8:04pm] idiot⚡: i suk at math but thats NOT the point

                         point iiissss i think deep down u want to hang out and cuddle and fall in love

                        maybe even..... 😏 kiiisssss

[8:04pm] y/n: WHOA WHOA WHOA

                        WARN ME BEFORE YOU GET NSFW

                        i would never premarital eye-contact. let alone k🤢ki-🤢🤢kiss🤢🤮🤮

[8:05pm] idiot⚡: well we would have socks on 🙄

[8:06pm] y/n: oh. well if there’s protection

[8:06pm] idiot⚡: Im not a maniac

[8:07pm] y/n: i suppose as long as you dont do something stoopid

                        like faceplant in public

                        that would be humiliating

[8:08pm] idiot⚡: I-

                          who told you that 😠

[8:08pm] y/n: i have spies everywhere noya

                        youre never safe

[8:09pm] Idiot⚡: kinda hot 👀

                         makin me fear for my life like that👀

[8:10pm] y/n: i hate that i like you

                        It kills me inside 

                        i feel braincels leaving with every conversation

[8:12pm] Idiot⚡: fan behavior 😏

                          so am i taking u to eat tomorow or wat?

[8:14pm] y/n: if I HAVE to 🙄

[8:14pm] Idiot⚡: No u GET to

                          I am a fucking delite 😤

[8:15pm] y/n: whatever helps you sleep at night

[8:15pm] Idiot⚡: nothing helps me sleep at night. this mind never rests

[8:16pm] y/n: thinking 24/7 and still not a smart thing comes out of that mouth 👀

[8:17pm] Idiot⚡: yas, bully me more 😫

[8:19pm] y/n: ok thats as much as i can handle for one day......

                       im gonna pretend to do homework

[8:20pm] idiot⚡: okie... good luck my sweet baby pogchamp 🥰

[8:20pm] y/n: no

[8:20pm] Idiot⚡: 😘😘😘

[8:22pm] y/n: 🙄✋

[8:23pm] Idiot⚡: oh FUCK yas 🥵 shut me UP

[8:25pm] y/n: suddenly all i feel is endless regret

[8:26pm] Idiot⚡: i have that effect on people

                          See you tomorrow 🥰🥰🥰

[8:27pm] y/n: unfortunately 😘

[8:27pm] idiot⚡: 🥵

You flung an arm over your eyes and let a small giggle bubble up from your chest. Nishinoya was probably the biggest idiot you’d ever met, but you couldn’t help that thinking of spending time with him had you kicking your feet with excitement.

You supposed you should actually get started on your homework. You reached forward when a notification popped up from Yachi, asking if her idea worked and you had stopped liking Nishinoya.

...you should probably break the news, huh?

#nishinoya yuu #nishinoya imagine #nishinoya scenarios #nishinoya yu x reader #nishinoya x reader #nishinoya yu #tanaka ryuunosuke #yachi hitoka #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #hq nishinoya #nishinoya #nishinoya yū #haikyuu #nishinoya yuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyu!! #haikyuu x y/n

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers LUNATIC PARADE ;; Ayato Route ー Chapter 2

ー The scene starts in the hotel room

*Rustle*

Yui: Nn...Hm...?

*Rustle*

Yui: ( ...I wonder how long I slept...? )

Ayato: Zzー... Zzー...

Yui: ( Ayato-kun’s still asleep. I better be careful not to wake him up... )

*Creaaaak*

Easy...There.

ー The scene shifts to the balcony

Yui: Hm...?

( ...What’s this smell...? )

( Somehow there’s this really nice scent coming from downstairs. ...A food vendor of some sorts, perhaps? )

*Groooowl*

Yui: ( ...Guess I’ll go take a quick look... )

ー The scene shifts to the wagon area

Pretzel vendor: Aah, miss! What do you say? Are you hungry for a freshly-baked pretzel?

Yui: ( Wah...There’s more different kinds of pretzels than I thought... )

Pretzel vendor: I studied the art of the pretzel for an extended time over in the human world, so I can guarantee the taste.

They’re quite popular amongst my customers down here as well. So, which one would you like?

Yui: ( Hm...What should I do? I can’t decide... )

*Rustle*

Yui: Um...Which one would you recommend?

Pretzel vendor: A recommendation, huh? ...I’d love to say I would recommend them all but...Let’s see...

Male punk A: Oi, old geezer. Give us one of those pretzel things as well.

Pretzel vendor: ...Aah In that case, please get in line over there.

Male punk B: Aah!? We’re askin’ for some right now. Come on, hand them over!

*THUD*

Yui: ...!

ー The crowd grows restless

Yui: ( What’s their problem...? )

Pretzel vendor: Don’t be ridiculous! I’ve got other customers waiting in line. ...!?

*THUD*

Male punk A: ...Oi, old geezer. Who do you think you’re talkin’ to, huh? You want us to get in queue? 

Male punk B: If you keep tryin’ to get all cute with us, we’ll ensure you’ll never do business here again, understood? Take that!

*THUD*

Yui: ( This is outrageous...! )

E-Excuse me...!

Male punk B: Aah? What’s this chick’s problem...?

Yui: Why would you try and pick a fight with this man when he has done nothing wrong at all...?

Pretzel vendor: ...Miss...!

Male punk A: Hah...Hilarious. This chick’s tryin’ to get in our way, see?

Male punk B: ...Seems like it. We can’t let her get away with that though.

*Rustle*

Yui: Kyaah!

( H-He’s so strong...! Oh no, at this rate...! )

???: Don’t touch her!

*THUD*

Male punk A: Uwaah!!

*Thud*

Yui: ...!?

Ayato: Oi, the fuck are you...? Don’t be tryin’ to mess with my woman!

Yui: A-Ayato-kun...!

( Don’t tell me...He jumped down from the hotel’s veranda...!? )

Male punk B: O-Oi...! You alright, mate!? ...Now you’ve done it!

Ayato: What? ...Wanna throw some fists? Fine by me? I’ll be your opponent if you’re that insistent on gettin’ your ass kicked!

Male punk B: ...F-Fuck...! Oi, let’s go!

Male punk A: Y-Yeah...Oi, we’ll remember this!!

ー The two punks run off

Ayato: Phew...Geez...Oi, Chichinashi!

Why did you sneak out while I was asleep? I was worried, you know!?

You got lucky I just so happened to look outside at the right time, but do you realize what could have gone down if I didn’t...?

I know you’re not bein’ targeted now that you don’t have your heart and all.

But that doesn’t mean you should go wanderin’ off on your own.

Yui: I-I’m sorry...

Pretzel vendor: Calm down, you. Please don’t be too harsh on her, okay?

Ayato: Aah? And who are you...?

Pretzel vendor: As you can tell, I’m the owner of this stall. Thanks to her, my precious shop wasn’t destroyed.

*Rustle*

Pretzel vendor: ...This is the only thing I can offer, but consider this my way of thanking you. Enjoy it together, okay?

Yui: Eh...?

*Rustle rustle*

Yui: ( We got so many pretzels...! )

Ayato: You sure?

Pretzel vendor: Yes, of course. Please enjoy the Parade while you can.

Yui: Thank you very much!

Ayato: ...Hmph. Well, guess I’ll have one since we got them for free anyway...

Yui: Yeah. Shall we go sit down on one of the benches over there then...?

ー They sit down

Ayato: Nn...This stuff’s not half bad, considering it’s pitch black. 

Mmh...What flavor is this though? Oi, Chichinashi. You have a bite too.

ー He leans in

Ayato: Here, open your mouth.

Yui: Eh? ...Nn...

( ...He just forced it inside...! )

*Rustle rustle*

Ayato: Hehe. How is it? Pretty good, right?

Yui: Nn...Yeah...I wonder what it could be...? It tastes a little like...black sesame?

( The vendor from earlier did say he got his training in the human world... )

Ayato: Haah? Black sesame here in the Demon World? Well, I guess it’s fine. It’s not bad and that’s what matters.

So? What are we gonna do now? We have to clear the assignment given to us by Walter, right?

Yui: Yeah...

( ...Our ‘wrongdoings’... )

( ...It has to be... )

Say, Ayato-kun? I’ve been thinking ever since...

Ayato: ...? What...?

Yui: While we were running away from the Gatekeeper after coming to the Demon World.

We caused trouble for many people, didn’t we...?

Ayato: Trouble? ...Did we?

Yui: We broke into the basement of someone else’s home, knocking over their cupboards...

Ayato: ...Oh. Now that you mention it, that did happen, didn’t it...?

Yui: So I thought maybe that’s what the Count meant with our ‘wrongdoings’...

Ayato: Hmm. Let’s assume that’s what he meant...What should we do then?

Yui: ...I’m not quite sure myself, but for now, I guess the best we can do is go and apologize...

Ayato: Haah? Apologize? That’s...

Yui: But...The Count said we should redeem ourselves so...I don’t think there’s much else we can do but say sorry...

Ayato: Hmph, I don’t like the sound of that.

Yui: ...

Ayato: But, well, I don’t exactly have a better idea either. Guess I have no other choice but to roll with your plan for now.

Yui: ...Ayato-kun...!

Ayato: ‘Kay, let’s get goin’ right away then.

Yui: ...Yeah!

( Thank you, Ayato-kun. )

ー The scene shifts to the underground passage

Yui: ( It was around here, right...? )

*Rustle*

Yui: Kyah!

Ayato: Shh, quiet!

Yui: ( ...? )

Ayato: Oi, take a look. The atmosphere’s not quite the same as yesterday.

*Knock knock*

Suspicious man A: ...It’s me. Open up.

Suspicious man B: Everyone’s present, right? ...Don’t worry, nobody should have followed us down here.

*Clunk*

Yui: It’s that room...Right?

Ayato: Yeah. I’m sure of it. It’s the basement we broke into yesterday.

I don’t know why, but they were bein’ all secretive. What’s going on?

Yui: ( Ayato-kun’s right, something seems a little off... )

*Rustle*

Yui: Anyway, it’d be bad if we were to get yelled at again for interrupting, so perhaps we should wait here for a bit?

Ayato: Che. We have to wait down here in this gloomy place?

Oi, Chichinashi. Help me kill some time. Nn...

Yui: Eh!? Hold on! Not here...!

*Rustle*

???: ...Well then, we will put our plan into action tomorrow night.

Yui: ( ...Hm? I can hear a voice from the other side of the door... )

Ayato: Come on, scoot closer.

Yui: ...! Ayato-kun, be quiet for a second...! 

ー She pushes him away

*Thud*

Ayato: ...!?

???: ...Exactly. While everyone else is too preoccupied with the Parade.

???: ...I will act as the decoy. ...As for the location, is Zartan’s Mouth okay?

???: Yes, I do not mind. However, there’s a few issues...

Yui: ( ...Is this some sort of strategy meeting...? )

Ayato: ...Oi, Chichinashi...You little...

You sure have some guts to push me away like that!

I’m gonna have to suck you right here, right now then! Come here!

Yui: A-Ayato-kun! Hold up...!

???: ...Who’s there!?

*THUD*

Owner: ...You two...You’re the people from yesterday!!

Ayato: ...!

Yui: ( T-They saw us!! )

Suspicious man A: ...Did you hear us just now!? Which means...You two must be spies, right!?

Ayato: Aah? Spies? The fuck you talkin’ ‘bout?

Yui: Spies? ...You’re wrong! We simply came here to apologize for what happened yesterday...!

Suspicious man B: Shut up! We can’t let you run free now that you’ve heard our plan!

Yui: We’re speaking the truth! We really did come here to say sorry for yesterday!

( Please believe us...! )

Owner: To apologize, huh...? Oi, brat. How about you?

Ayato: Aah!? Who do you think you’re calling a brat!? Don’t fuck with me...

But it’s exactly as she said. We did kind of invite ourselves in yesterday...

Owner: ...I see. Well, but...

You heard our plan. Furthermore...

You did quite the number on me yesterday. You can say sorry all you want, I’m not forgiving you.

Yui: ( No way...! )

Ayato: A number...?

Owner: Hmph...You knocked over one of the cupboards when you ran away, didn’t you?

My precious key broke in the process. See?

*Rustle*

Yui: ( ...It’s snapped right in half... )

I-I’m so sorry...!

Ayato: ...Hah. That’s all?

Oi, old fart. Gimme that key for a sec. I’ll fix it.

Then you’ll forgive us, right?

Owner: ...Well, I would. If you can fix it, that is.

Ayato: Aah? That’s a piece of cake, isn’t it? You just take it to a locksmith and have them fix it for you.

Yui: ( It really is that easy...right...? )

( However...Something seems a little... )

Owner: Hmph. You seem rather confident. I’ll leave this key in your care then.

*Rustle*

Owner: However, you only have until tomorrow. If you fail to repair the key by then...

Ayato: Hah, don’t worry, one day is plenty. See you later, old fart.

Let’s go, Chichinashi.

*Rustle*

Yui: Y-Yeah...

( I have a bad feeling about this...I hope it’s just my imagination... )

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the wagon area

Ayato: Let’s see, a locksmith, locksmith...Aren’t there any ‘round? ...Guess we just gotta ask someone.

???: Welcome!

Ayato: Ah, oi. Mister! Is there a locksmith somewhere ‘round here?

???: ...! You’re that brat from yesterday...!

Ayato: Ah...?

Yui: Ah! 

( This guy, if I recall correctly...! )

ー A flashback ensues

Ayato: Oi, Chichinashi! We’re takin’ a shortcut! This way!

Crepe vendor: Crepes! Who’s hungry for some fresh crepes?

Ayato: Get out of the way!

*THUD*

*CRASH*

Crepe vendor: Uwaah! My stall!

ー The flashback ends

Yui: ( From back then...! )

Crepe vendor: Oi! How dare you destroy my stall back then!?

Ayato: Haah? The fuck you talkin’ ‘bout? Anyway, hurry up and tell us where we can find a locksmith!

Crepe vendor: And why exactly should I do that?

Ayato: Aah? Excuse me...!?

Yui: ( ...! )

Selection

→ Stop him by tugging onto him (☾)

*Thud*

Yui: Ayato-kun! You can’t!

*Rustle rustle*

Ayato: ...Let go! What’s your problem!?

Yui: Calm down...!

*Rustle rustle*

→ Stop him by shouting

Yui: Ayato-kun! You can’t!

Ayato: Shut up! You keep quiet!

Yui: ( He totally forgot! )

You don’t remember how you flipped this man’s stall upside down while we were on the run yesterday!?

Ayato: Hm? R-Right...Now that you mention it, I vaguely remember somethin’ like that...

Yui: Mister! Let us apologize for what happened back then. We truly feel sorry...!

Crepe vendor: Hah! It’s a little late to apologize now.

Yui: But...We really need you to forgive us...!

( If not, we can’t complete the Count’s assignment... )

Crepe vendor: Hmph. You sure say some strange things, young lady. I’m sorry, but I don’t plan on forgiving you any time soon.

As a result, I lost half a day of business yesterday. My sales figures are doomed!

???: Calm down, sir. Don’t be so hasty.

Yui: ( ...That’s... )

Crepe vendor: ...You’re the guy who sells pretzels...

Pretzel vendor: I happen to know those two.

They helped me out when I was being pestered by a duo of punks this morning.

Crepe vendor: ...These two did?

Pretzel vendor: Yes, exactly. So, what do you say? Why don’t you do me a favor and forgive them?

Yui: ...!

Crepe vendor: ...But still...I can’t just forgive them for free...

Hm...I suppose it can’t be helped. What do you think of this offer? You have to run the shop for half a day in return.

Ayato: Run the shop? You mean the crepe stall?

Crepe vendor: Yes. I was actually just thinking of going to watch the Parade with my wife. 

If you two can take over the shop in the meantime, I’ll forgive you for what happened yesterday.

Yui: Really...!? 

Ayato: Hm, a crepe stall, huh...? Well, I don’t mind. Sounds kinda fun.

Yui: I’ll help out too! Thank you very much!

Pretzel vendor: Glad to hear! Good luck, you two.

Yui: Thank you too, sir!

Crepe vendor: I’ll teach you how to make the crepes, so come here.

Yui: Yes!

( Seems like he’ll forgive us somehow. Thank god...! )

*TIMESKIP*

Ayato: ‘Kay, let’s get straight to business. Of course, I’ll be in charge of making the crepes.

Yui: Yeah, sure.

( Fufu. Despite his complaints from earlier, he’s very motivated right now! )

ー Ayato starts baking the crepes

Ayato: Here I go! Voila!

*Plop*

Yui: Ah, Ayato-kun! If you pour on that much batter at once...

Ayato: Ah? I’m sure it’ll turn out fine somehow! Now I just gotta make it round...Huh...?

*Pshhh*

Ayato: Fuck, it’s not workin’ at all...The fuck’s goin’ on...?

Yui: A-Ayato-kun, at this rate...

( ...Actually, this smell... )

*Pshhhh*

Yui: ( ...I knew it, it’s burning!! )

Ayato: Che, fuck...This isn’t workin’ out at all. Fuck this! I’m done! It’s up to you now, Chichinashi!

Yui: Eh!? H-Hold up...!

( ...Geez, in that case...! )

*TIMESKIP*

Yui: ( ...Seems like I got the hang of it somehow...Thank god. )

Female Vampire E: Those look delicious. May I have one crepe?

Female Vampire D: Me too~!

Yui: Y-Yes! I’ll make one right awaーー

( ...What do I do? The shop suddenly got crowded. )

???: Ah-ahー Guess I can’t trust you alone with the store like this. I’ll help you out a lil’.

Yui: ...! Ayato-kun!

( Thank god, he came back...! )

Ayato: ...Oi. You over there, which flavors do you want? Make it quick!

Female Vampire E: A-Are you talking to me...? Then, caramel and...

Ayato: Hah, think again!

Yui: Eeh!?

( How could he treat a customer like that...!? )

Ayato: ...Hmー Let’s see. While I’m at it...There.

*Splatter*

Ayato: Yeah, lookin’ good! Behold, Ayato-sama’s special edition blood-drenched crepe!

Yui: Blood-drenched...!?

( There’s lots of strawberry sauce oozing out from the sides...! )

( I’m sure this will upset the customer... )

Female Vampire F: W-Wow! I’ve never seen such an innovative crepe before!!

Male Vampire D: For real...! This crepe encompasses everything a Vampire loves perfectly...!

Male Vampire E: I’d like one of those as well, sonny!

ー More customers crowd around the stall

Yui: ( A long line formed in front of the shop in no time...! )

Ayato: Hah, if you want one, you better wait there patiently!

...Oi, Chichinashi! Keep on baking those bad boys!

Yui: R-Roger...!

( I can’t quite explain why, but Ayato-kun is something else... )

*TIMESKIP*

Crepe vendor: Geez, you really did me a huge favor. Seems like the store did great business thanks to you two!

Ayato: Hah, Yours Truly made those crepes, so what else did you expect?

Crepe vendor: Haha. Anyway, let’s forget about what happened yesterday. I’ll tell you where you can find a locksmith as well.

Yui: Really?

( Thank god...! )

Thank you very much!

ー The scene shifts to Diamante Fountain

Yui: ...Hmー I’m pretty sure it should be somewhere around here...

( According to the map the crepe vendor drew for us, the locksmith should be on the plaza with the fountain... )

Ayato: Oi, hold up one sec.

Yui: Eh? ...Kyah!

*Rustle*

Yui: ( W-What...? )

Ayato: Hehe, Chichinashi. You’ve got some cream stuck on your face, you know? Just how frantic were you back there?

Yui: Eh!? 

*Rustle rustle*

Ayato: Che...Don’t move. I’ll get it for you...

Nn...Nn...

Yui: ( ...He licked it off...! )

Ayato: ...Heeh, not bad. What you’d expect from a famous place. However...

*Rustle*

...I prefer this. Nn...

*Smooch*

Yui: Nn...!

( Ayato-kun, we’re in public right now...! )

*Rustle rustle*

Yui: A-Ayato-kun...! Now’s not the time to mess around...!

Ayato: Oh? Oi, check that out! That shop has a signboard in the shape of a key. Couldn’t that be the place?

Yui: Eh!? Ah...You’re right. It might be.

Ayato: Let’s go take a look!

ー He walks towards the store

Yui: ( ...! I feel like he just skillfully talked his way out! )

*Knock knock*

Yui: Excuse me!

Ayato: Oi! Anyone ‘round!?

*Thud thud*

Yui: ( Could they be closed...? )

Flower shop owner: Yes, if you’re looking for the locksmith, he has been on vacation for quite some time.

Yui: Eh...!?

Flower shop owner: He always closes his shop during the Parade because he has very few customers at this time of year.

Yui: ( N-No way... )

Ayato: Fuck! We finally made it here and the bastard’s on holiday!? Fuck that!

Ahーah. There goes all of my motivation...I’m already exhausted after all the shit that went down today...

Yui: ( ...Now that he mentions it, I’m a little tired too... )

Ayato: Say, Chichinashi. We have until tomorrow to get the key repaired, right?

Yui: Yeah...

Ayato: Let’s go on a full-on search for the locksmith tomorrow then.

For one, I doubt we’ll have an easy time finding a stranger amidst this large of a crowd.

Yui: ( He does have a point... )

( Besides, Ayato-kun really tried his hardest today, from helping fend off those punks to selling crepes as well... )

( I want to give him some time to rest... )

Yui: ...Right. Let’s head back to the hotel early todaーー

Ayato: Idiot. Who’s so stupid to return to their hotel room at this hour?

Yui: Eh?

Ayato: Why don’t we have a look ‘round the Parade now that we’re here as well?

I’m sure things will work out if we give it our all tomorrow. That being said, let’s get goin’!

*Rustle*

Yui: Ah, wait, Ayato-kun...!

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to Saint Nore Park

Ayato: Ahー The Magic Carpet ride really is the best! So, where should we go next?

Yui: ( Ayato-kun looks like he’s having fun. ...I’m glad. )

( We still have a whole lot of issues to tackle, but the Parade only happens once a year, so I want him to be able to enjoy it a little... )

Ayato: Oh, they’ve got something interesting goin’ on over there. Oi, let’s go!

Yui: Yeah!

ー The scene shifts to the venue

Ayato: It’s on! Let’s see who can make their way out of the House of Mirrors first!

Yui: Sure!

Ayato: Hehe. I won’t lose! I’m goin’ in this way. See you at the exit!

ー Ayato runs inside

Yui: ( Okay! I have to try my best so I don’t lose either! )

ー The scene shifts to the House of Mirrors

Yui: ( Hm... )

( Everything looks the same, so I feel as if I’ve just been going in circles this whole time... )

*Riiiiing*

Yui: ...!?

ー It flashes white before her eyes

Yui: ( W-What’s going on...!? I feel dizzy all of a sudden... )

( Did the House of Mirrors make me feel sick perhaps...? )

*Riiiiing*

Yui: ...! 

( ...No...I’m not just dizzy... )

( There’s something wrong...With my heart...With the Kleinod... )

*Riiiiing*

ー Yui collapses

*Thud*

Yui: ( Everything’s going black...before my eyes... )

( ...Ayato...ku...n... )

*TIMESKIP*

???: ...Lady...Young lady...

Yui: ( ... )

???: ...Young lady...Hang in there, young lady...!

Yui: ( ...Somebody’s calling me...? )

ー Yui wakes up

Yui: ...Uu...Hm...?

Vampire gentleman: Aah, thank god! You regained consciousness!

Yui: ( Ah...Right. I fainted in the House of Mirrors... )

Vampire gentleman: I was shocked to find you passed out here! Did you come with someon...ーー

ー Ayato runs up to them

Ayato: ...Oi! What are you doin’ to her!? Back off at once!!

*THUD*

Vampire gentleman: Uguh!?

Yui: ...! Ayato-kun!?

*Rustle*

Ayato: Yui! Are you okay!?

Oi, you bastard! She’s mine! Try to harm her and you’ll regret it!

Vampire gentleman: Kuh...Harm her...? I simply...

Ayato: I don’t need to hear your excuses! I’ll beat you to pulp right now! 

Yui: ( ...! He’s definitely got the wrong idea! )

*Rustle*

Yui: Ayato-kun! You’ve got it all wrong!! It’s a misunderstanding!

He only helped me out when I was feeling unwell...!

Ayato: Aah...? What didya just say...?

Vampire gentleman: ...Hmph! So this is what I get for trying to be kind...!? I’ll excuse myself now!

ー He walks away

Yui: Ah...

( He left... )

Yui: You can’t deny that you went too far just now, kicking him out of nowhere...

Ayato: Che, I had no other choice, did I...?

From my angle, it looked as if that bastard was tryin’ to suck your blood or somethin’...

...Geez, I was waitin’ by the exit but you just wouldn’t show up, so I came lookin’ for you...

Yui: ( ...Ayato-kun... )

I’m sorry for making you worry...

Ayato: Oi, more importantly. I heard you were feelin’ unwell...? Are you alright now?

Yui: ...Yeah, I’m fine now...

*Riiiiing*

Yui: ...ーー!?

( ...Again... )

Ayato: ...!? Oi!

Yui: ( I can’t...My consciousness is... )

ー She faints again

Ayato: Yui!

*TIMESKIP*

Yui: ( ...What’s happening...? My body feels light... )

???: ...Yui...!

ー She wakes up in the hotel room

Yui: Uu...Hm...?

( I’m at...the hotel...? )

Ayato: Ah! You finally woke up...?

Yui: Ayato-kun...I...

Ayato: You passed out. It gave me a scare. I carried you back here for now.

...Are you alright?

Yui: Yeah, I’m fine now.

Ayato: Mmh. Glad to hear that. Don’t push yourself, ‘kay?

*Rustle*

Yui: ( ...He’s stroking my head... )

Ayato: ...Haah, anyway. It’s already late, so just stay in bed, ‘kay?

Yui: Yeah, I will. I’m sorry for causing you so much trouble.

Ayato: ...It’s fine. Besides, I never thought of it like that.

I don’t care as long as you’re safe and sound...

Yui: ( Ayato-kun...I’m so happy... )

( ...Now that I’m feeling more relaxed, I can suddenly feel the fatigue kicking in... )

*Rustle rustle*

ー She falls asleep as the scene shifts to her dream

Yui: ( ...Where am I...? )

( Could it be, again...? )

Mysterious man: ...Hello there, it’s been a while.

Yui: ( This voice... )

Are you...Count Walter, perhaps...?

Mysterious man: ...Fufu. I wonder?

Yui: ...

Mysterious man: That Ayato...He seems rather attached to you.

He jumped the gun and kicked a man he had never seen or met before, what am I going to do with him?

Yui: ...You were watching, it seems...?

Mysterious man: Yes, I saw everything...I wonder why exactly he seems so devoted to you?

Yui: Why...?

Mysterious man: Yes. Have you never asked yourself that question?

Yui: Well...

Mysterious man: Do you perhaps think...He is doing it out of love for you?

Yui: ...

Mysterious man: Fufu, seems like I am correct. However, if you do, I think it is time you think again.

Yui: ...What do you mean?

Mysterious man: That man, you see, only ever thinks about being the best there is.

Therefore, he does not want to lose you, the person who has a heart like nobody else does. ...Am I wrong?

Yui: ...That’s not...!

( Is he implying that Ayato-kun only protects me because of my heart...? )

( That just can’t be...I mean, Ayato-kun is...! )

He isn’t that kind of person. He really does... (1)

( It’s not because of my heart...But because he cares about me as a person... )

Mysterious man: ...Kuku...Hahaha...!

Yui: ...What’s so funny?

Mysterious man: Oh no, my bad. I was just thinking what a foolish, pitiful girl you are...

Do you truly believe a Vampire such as himself is capable of grasping the meaning of true love?

...If you do, you are gravely mistaken.

ー Yui wakes up

*Rustle*

Yui: ...Haah...! Haah...Haah...

( ...Was that a dream just now...? )

*Rustle*

Yui: ...Ayato-kun...? 

( ...He doesn’t seem to be around...Did he head out, perhaps...? )

ー She recalls her dream

Mysterious man: Do you truly believe a Vampire such as himself is capable of grasping the meaning of true love?

...If you do, you are gravely mistaken.

ー The dream sequence ends

Yui: ( ...That’s not true. Ayato-kun isn’t like that. )

( I have faith in him... )

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー 

← RETURN TO CHAPTER 1

→ PROCEED WITH MAIN STORY [CHAPTER 3]

→ SUB-SCENARIO #1 [W/ REIJI]

→ SUB-SCENARIO #2 [W/ LAITO]

→ SUB-SCENARIO #3 [W/ AZUSA]

→ SUB-SCENARIO #4 [W/ CARLA]

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #ayato sakamaki #dark fate #diabolik lovers translation #dfayatochapter2

[dadolorian]

Diamonds and Daddies Ch 2 Whiskey X F!Reader

A/N: Thank you again to @oloreaa​ for being my Beta reader despite not liking this Yeehonk bitch XD  And thanks to @talesfromtheguild​ for the name idea and letting me bounce ideas for this story in general off of you

Fandom: Kingsman the golden circle Ship: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x Cis F!reader Warning/tags: Kink and consent discussion, Possessive (consensual) language, spanking, slight choking, Daddy kink/ DD/LG/BDSM style relationship, aftercare, fingering, P/V (protected) sex, dirty talk,  reaffirming consent/ checking in with safe word, Jack being possessive/controlling but has readers enthusiastic consent on it. 

Word count: 6K + 

AO3 LINK - coming soon

Summary: Whiskey tries Tinder, and when that doesn’t work discovers a Sugar Baby app that has him most intrigued. Jack gives his Babygirl her first punishment. 

Soft light filtered through sheer curtains, you stretched out lazily, feeling your joints pop and click. Idly, your foggy brain wondered just when your bed became this big and soft. 

You fought to drift back off to sleep as memories of last night slowly came back to you, 

          Cracking an eye open to confirm that yes, you had gone home with the sexy Daddy who wined and dined you last night. You couldn’t contain the smile on your face as you remembered everything that had happened, the slight ache between your legs reminding you of the best part. 

You turned over to snuggle up to your cowboy Daddy, only to find he wasn’t there. You sat up, disappointed and confused, looking around the expansive room for him,  reaching to his side you deduced he had been gone only a short while by the lukewarm heat left on the sheets, you listened carefully, trying to figure out just where he was. 

There was muffled shuffling outside of the room, coming from downstairs, and the delicious smell that was wafting into the room made your stomach growl.

You slid out of the covers to go explore, picking up Jack’s discarded dress shirt off the floor and throwing it on before heading off in search of him.  As you left the bedroom you heard him softly humming, a familiar country tune you couldn’t quite place. Softly padding your way down the stairs there you found him, in his open kitchen, wearing a stetson, jeans and nothing else. His back was facing you, you watched the muscles there ripple as he poured batter into the waffle iron beside him, cursing when hot batter splashed back onto his bare stomach. “Careful Daddy,” you teased, as you leaned against an island counter, making him jump slightly. 

He turned to face you with a soft smile, wiping the batter off of his front with a rag. 

“Morning Honey Bee. Did I wake you?” he asked, rounding the island to give you a gentle kiss.

You hummed at the name, it was the same one you had used on the Sugar baby App, which you still needed to delete for him. 

“Not at all, Cowboy,” you teased, flicking his stetson playfully. 

“I was hoping to give you breakfast in bed,” he drawled, playing with the hem of the shirt you were wearing absentmindedly. His other hand went to the small of your back, gently holding you to his front as he rocked the two of you slowly, dancing in place to music that wasn’t there. 

“Seems that plans out the window now, you hungry?” 

You nodded your head. “Starving. I worked up quite an appetite last night,” you giggled, wrapping your arms around him and resting your chin on his soft front, looking up at him with a giddy smile. 

He chuckled,and bent forward to place a quick kiss to your forehead. 

“That you did, I guess riding takes a lot out of you huh?” he teased with a wink. 

You rolled your eyes at the joke, but your smile confirmed to him you liked it either way.

              He was content holding you just like that, swaying gently together as if you were the only two people in existence, the only thing pulling him away from your embrace was the smell of burning batter.

“Shit, shit!” he cursed, untangling himself from your arms, trying to save what he could of the breakfast. “Damn!”

He unplugged the iron and wafted away the faint smoke with his stetson, trying to thin it out enough to avoid the smoke alarm going off. 

“Sorry, Darlin, I was trying to be all romantic and make you breakfast,” he coughed, scraping burnt batter out of the machine. “But it seems my cooking skills ain't up to par.”

“I’m just flattered that you went through the effort for me,” you smiled, coming up behind him and wrapping your arms around him again, kissing his bare shoulder blades. 

“Of course, gotta take care of my girl,” he moved the waffle iron to the side and cleaned up the mess on the bench.

“How bout we just order something Darl? Since i’ve made such a mess of this?” He suggested, turning in your embrace and resting his large hands on your hips. 

“Sounds delightful” you hummed, standing on your tiptoes to give him a chaste kiss. 

“Here,” he said as he pulled his phone out of his back pocket, unlocking it and passing it to you.

“You open that ‘uber’ app and pick whatever you’re fancying Princess.” 

You took the phone and browsed through the app as he cleaned up what he could, deciding on the safe bet of waffle house, since Jack had seemed so insistent on making them for you to begin with. 

With the food ordered and on its way, you relaxed on the couch, waiting for him to finish cleaning up. You lay on your stomach, making sure his shirt was only just covering your ass as you flipped through a TV magazine he had laying around.

The rummaging in the kitchen eventually grew silent, shortly followed by warm fingers gently caressing up the back of your thigh to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. 

You hummed, pleased as you felt his weight join you, blanketing himself over you carefully, making sure he didn’t crush you. 

You giggled as you felt his mustache tickle your neck, where he peppered many hot kisses across your skin. 

“D-Daddy,” you giggled, wiggling in his grasp as he continued to tickle you with his facial hair. “Food will be here soon.” 

He growled, not too pleased at the idea of having to cut his playtime short before it had even had a chance to get started. 

“You’re right, Baby, we’ll have to have some fun later,” he sighed, burying his face into your neck for soft snuggles rather than the heated kisses, a change you had no complaint about either way.  “Don’t need to get all worked up before heading to the lobby. Might give a poor delivery driver a heart attack if I answer the door full mast,” he snickered into your neck. 

You rolled your eyes again at his immature humor but you were once more unable to keep your own smile off of your face. 

“We can play after breakfast though. Right Daddy?” You asked, running your foot over this strong calves teasingly.

“Mmhhhh, of course Baby, “ he said, placing another kiss on your neck. “You only have to ask and Daddy will play with you whenever you want. Unless you’re being a brat for me.” 

You hummed in appreciation at the implication.  Past Daddies had never been very...successful at the whole punishment and reward aspect of your usual relationship dynamic. Your string of bad luck when it came to your relationships didn’t just translate to the relationships with your Daddies failing, but also to how skilled they were with mixing the punishments and pleasures you hungered for. You had never been left completely satisfied in a relationship before. 

But, since meeting him, there wasn't a doubt in your mind that Jack’s ability to take care of you, to punish and pleasure you in the way you had been craving for years, would finally scratch that itch. To satisfy your hunger. You weren’t just a sugar Baby for the money after all. 

“I’ll be good for you,” you teased, breathlessly lifting your ass up into his hips, causing him to groan. 

“Teasing's not what a good girl does, Honey Bee,” he warned, using your moniker again. It was like he was reminding you of your place, something that should have been a red flag in any other type of relationship, but with Jack, it only served to turn you on more. 

“What happened to not answering the door at full mast?” You continued to tease. 

“Half mast...different story,” Jack joked, snatching his phone up with one hand to check on the progress of the food. 

“It’s on its way,” he hummed, getting up off of you carefully, gently patting your ass as he straightened up. “Should probably go put a shirt on then.” 

“Awww,” you pouted, flipping over to watch him walk over to the stairs.

“I’ll take my shirt back off when I get back with the food baby, but only if you take yours off first, Honey Bee,” he winked playfully at you before heading upstairs.

He returned from his room, now wearing a plain white T-shirt which showed off his biceps deliciously, and some fancy looking cowboy boots to complete his casual country look.  “I’ll be back with the food in just a minute Darlin,” he said, coming over to you and giving you a slow, deep kiss. “Be good.” 

You batted your eyelashes up at him, playing innocent as he took off, grabbing his keys and leaving you alone in his apartment. 

Bored without his attention and curious about him, you took the opportunity alone to explore. You hopped up off the couch and started to inspect his apartment. Upstairs you found an additional two bedrooms and bathroom , they were of little interest to you outside of their stunning views of the city, the interesting parts of his apartment were all downstairs, you discovered.  A private gym, a balcony with views of central park and his own pool! You were half tempted to jump in and wait for him to return but you didn’t want to get in trouble with him, at least not yet.  You headed back inside and were about to inspect the last room of the house when you spied through the glass door a heavy wooden desk and laptop sitting on top of it, it was his office. Remembering his warning, you loosened your grip on the handle, backing away slowly. 

“What did I tell you bout my office, Babygirl?” his deep baritone startled you, you hadn’t heard him return.    He stood in the open lounge behind you, one hand on his hip, the other holding the takeout boxes, quirking an eyebrow at you questioningly.  His question was a clear warning to you. 

“You said I can't go in there, and I remembered!” You explained as you turned to face him fully. “I didn’t go in, I stopped as soon as I realized it was your office Daddy, I promise.”

 He regarded you for a moment, searching your eyes. He believed you it seemed. “Good,” he purred, putting the boxes on the coffee table. He grabbed two plates and cutlery from the adjacent kitchen and returned to flop onto the couch with as much grace a man his age could muster.

 “Come here Baby,” Jack beckoned you with his finger, before he sat down and toed off his boots, kicking them underneath the coffee table. 

He held out his arm in invitation of a cuddle which you happily accepted, tucking your knees under yourself as you curled up to his side. He gave you a tender kiss to your forehead then served up the food onto the plates. 

“There you go, Baby,” he smiled, handing you a plate. “Wish i could have made it myself, but this will have to do for now. One day I'll make you a romantic breakfast in bed.” 

“I like that idea Daddy,” you hummed, digging into your food quite happily. “But i’m certainly not complaining about this either.”

You both sat, lazily cuddling as you ate your breakfast together, not in any particular rush to get on with the rest of the day. You finished first, putting your plate on the coffee table in front of you while you waited for him. “You might finish it quicker if you let go of me Daddy,” you teased, causing him to cock an eyebrow at you, looking at you as if you had just grown two heads. “Now why would I want to do that, Babygirl?” He asked, the arm around you squeezing the flesh of your exposed thigh. 

“I wasn’t complaining Daddy, I just thought it might have been easier.”

“I know Baby,” he kissed your cheek. “But i much prefer this.” When he had finally finished his food he stacked his plate on top of yours, picked up a blank notepad off the glass top then pulled you up onto his lap. 

“Now, Baby,” he murmured, playing with the top button of the shirt you were wearing, his shirt. 

“What do you say we get that little ‘contract’ sorted? Should be something we get out of the way before we have anymore fun together, don’cha think? I don't want to overstep any boundaries with you.” You nodded in agreement, looping your arms around his neck as he began writing. 

You found it really cute the way his brow would furrow as he wrote, trying his best to balance the notepad between the two of you and not get distracted by your close proximity. When he was done, he re-read the whole page, giving it a nod of approval before flipping it for you to read. 

You made sure to read it properly, to make sure everything was covered. It was a detailed list of all the rules you had both agreed to the previous night, with the important ones underlined for emphasis, safeword, exclusivity, communication. You smiled, giving him your approval. He then flipped to another page, writing down a list, you tried your best to read it upside down, curious as to what else he could be writing. Figuring out a few of the words you realized he was writing a list of kinks. 

He gave it another once over before showing you. 

“Like I said Princess, I don’t want to cross any boundaries with you, I need to know beforehand if you’ll be just as enthusiastic for these as I am,” he said, rubbing your thigh as you took the list and read it. “It's all fun and games talking punishment and rewards until I get to it and find out you don’t like what I'm doing to ya.” 

You took the pen from his hand, crossing out the hard no’s, leaving only your favorites on his expansive list.

Over stimulation Choking Bondage/restraints Throat fucking Spanking Slapping Riding crop Public sex Collars Toys- Plugs, vibrators, Dildos- others Orgasm denial Cock warming Roleplay - costumes Rough sex Ice Candle wax Degradation/name calling  Fisting Anal Spitting

“Perfect” you purred, handing it back to him so he could confirm what you had approved off. He grinned widely as he read it, his eyes growing dark from lust. You were just the same, already feeling the familiar sensation of your arousal pooling.

“Hooo, Honey Bee,” he growled contentedly, reading your amendments. “You left all my favorites on here.” He tossed the notepad onto a side table, discarding it and leaving his full attention on you. “Now keep in mind, those kinks are just for punishments and rewards...We can add more if we want to later, and we can explore other kinks any other time...I just need to know what you want when Daddy punishes you.” You nodded, agreeing with his words. You were exceptionally grateful at just how serious he was taking his role and control over you, making sure you would be comfortable and feel safe with everything he wanted to do with you, confirming to both of you he had your enthusiastic consent for some of the more...extreme elements of your growing relationship. 

“Mind answering a question for me, Darlin?” He asked, gently undoing the top button of your shirt.

“Of course not Daddy, ask away.”

“Got any toys at home?” His hands continued popping buttons of the shirt you were wearing, his voice was curious, with that hungry growl still hidden beneath it.

“Y-yes, i have toys,” you admitted truthfully.

“Get rid of them,” he ordered firmly, staring at your chest as his calloused hand slipped underneath your now unbuttoned shirt, pushing the shirt off of your shoulders, exposing you to him.

“B-but Daddy, they were expensive,” you whined, gripping his shoulders as his large, rough hands moved to cup your breasts.

He dragged his gaze away from your tits to look you in the eyes.

“What was that? You answering back to me already, baby?” He growled, giving your breasts a harsh squeeze in warning, making you gasp. “Your pleasure belongs to me now, remember? I decide when you get to feel good…And no toy is going to do my job for you.” He began rolling your nipples in his fingers, causing your head to fall back in pleasure. He gave you a growl in warning, a wordless command of eyes on me, and you dragged your gaze back to him, whimpering at his touches. You had started to get wet as you read his Kink list, just the idea of exploring them had started to work you up, but now, with his deft fingers and possessive words, you feel yourself getting wetter. 

“When you get home, you’re going to throw all those toys you have in the trash,” he squeezed your breasts together, still toying with your nipples. “Then you’re going to send Daddy a photo to prove it….And then, when i think you’ve earned it, we’re going shopping for some new, special toys we get to use together. For when you’ve been a good girl for Daddy…or a Bad girl.”

You bit your lip to hide the whimper at the implications, unsuccessfully. Once again he was proving just how capable he was at his Daddy role for you. He chuckled at how helpless you sounded, dragging one of his hands down your front to slip between your legs, fingers quickly becoming covered in your slick. “You’re very naughty baby, forgetting to put your panties on this morning...Only bad girls go about with no underwear,” he teased, pushing one, long finger inside you slowly. “B-But...You weren't wearing underwear last night!” You gasped, opening your legs wider to give him better access. The hand still on your tit squeezed harder. 

“Answering back again?” he growled, shoving another finger inside of you. His other hand let go of your breast and looped around you, pulling you tight up against his front, holding you in place so he could attack your neck with his mouth.  He kissed and licked, running his teeth over the sensitive skin there before growling right into your ear.  “Don’t you dare go around thinking that you can answer back to me, Honey Bee, or that what Daddy says don’t matter.” 

Your moniker, again, reminding you just what you were to him, what he was to you.

One simple name you had heard many times before, but coming from his mouth, his husky voice, it held so much power and control over you. 

The two fingers inside you pushed in as deep as they could go, curling back and forth to tease at your sweet spot. You tried to wiggle in his grasp, either to get away from the stimulation or get closer, you weren’t sure, but his grip on you held fast.

“If I say something makes you a bad girl, then you best listen...Don’t matter if Daddy does it too, you do as I say, not as I do...You’re not a big enough girl to behave like that…” he teased you, gently curling his fingers one minute then thrusting his hand into you harshly the next, fingering you as fast as he could in the position. “Thought you wanted to be my good girl?” he rasped, chuckling darkly when you began writhing in his hold, whining and arching your back, holding onto him for dear life, your manicured nails digging into his biceps as the obscene wet slaps of his hand thrusting into you joined your whines. 

His words and deft fingers had brought you quicker to the edge than you had ever been in your life. Something about the way he became so possessive and controlling over you turned you on so easily, you felt your core tighten up and more arousal seep down your thighs. 

Gripping his shoulders you whimpered out a warning that you were going to cum. He sped his hand up, thumb rubbing quick circles into your clit for one teasing moment, and right before you flew over the edge, he pulled his fingers free from you. “W-wha?” you asked befuddled, straightening back up to look at him. “Daddy why?” 

He stood up, tossing you onto the couch on your back before bringing his fingers to his mouth, moaning as he tasted your essence still coating them. “I’ll tell you why, Baby,” he said, pulling his fingers free and licking his lips as if he had just eaten the finest dessert. “You talked back to Daddy,” he leant over top of you so his nose brushed yours. “And then I find out you’re being a filthy little girl by not wearing panties…” He slapped your thigh hard enough to sting. “And then you had the gall to talk back to me, again.” 

He shoved his mouth against yours for a deep, domineering kiss. It was bruising. You could taste the faint flavor of the syrup from the waffles you shared, combined with your own juices, on his tongue. He cupped your jaw to deepen the kiss, then pulling away only when you had become lost to the sensation, driving you insane once again by denying you just as it got really heated. “Now, we’re both new to this...It’s going to take a while for us both to learn all the rules,” he said, straightening up and pulling his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side, forgotten. He was back on you, kneeling between your legs before you could even admire his soft tummy again.  “But if I let this one slide, Baby, I fear you won’t learn the rules...If I let you get away with answering back to me, and being filthy now...Well you won’t learn your lesson, will ya?”

One hand slid back between your legs, ghosting over your soaked folds teasingly. You whimpered again, listing your hips for more contact, batting your eyes up at him in hopes to soften him up 

“But since this is a first offence,” Jack chuckled, gently pinching your clit between two fingers, “I’ll go easy on you. But don’t think those pretty eyes will work on me all the time, baby.” 

“Daddy” you whined, feeling completely helpless underneath him and loving it. “Hmmm? Now what do we think is an appropriate punishment for a first time offence?” He asked, pushing one finger back inside you, thrusting it in and out agonizingly slowly while his thumb circled your clit with feather light passes. Touching you and filling you up, but not enough to satisfy the burning need in you. He watched intently as you tried to seek out more stimulation, raising your hips up into his hand, but he put a stop to that quickly, holding your hips down with his free hand.  “Stay still,” he growled. “You take what I give you, Honey bee, don’t be greedy.”  He watched you with his head cocked, as he decided on your punishment.  “I think we’ll keep it simple,” he continued. “A spanking seems appropriate...Don’t you agree?”

Jack paused, and you realized he was waiting for a response, an approval and consent over his chosen punishment.  “Y-yes...a spanking seems fair Daddy,” you pouted, looking up at him through your lashes. 

“Good” he rumbled, scooping you up and gently laying you across his lap. You could feel his erection pressed up against your belly.

You wanted it inside you, but you knew you had to earn it. One of his arms looped around your middle, keeping you still while the other was gently massaging your ass and rubbing your pussy. “Listen up, Girl,” he said, voice firm. “You are to say “red” if this gets too much, you understand?” he asked, waiting for your verbal affirmation before continuing. “Good, after each spank, I want you to say ‘I will not talk back to Daddy’. Can you repeat that for me?” “I- I will not talk back to Daddy,” you moaned, wiggling your hips to get more friction up against your pussy. “Good,” he praised again, rewarding you with more friction just where you wanted it, his palm rubbing up and down over your folds. 

“You’re going to get ten spanks...And then Daddy's going to give you a reward afterwards, if you’re good for me.”

You nodded, letting him know you understood. “I want you to count them out too,” was his final instruction as he raised his hand, bringing it back down against your ass with a hard SLAP! “O-one!” You yelped. “I will not talk back to Daddy!” He hummed in approval, you felt his erection brush up against your stomach again, twitching in the confines of his pants. SLAP! “Two!” I will now talk back to Daddy!” 

It continued, you tried your hardest to keep still with each slap, to stop rubbing your thighs together, but each slap only seemed to make you wetter, to make you want him more. Slap after slap after slap, you remained his good little girl. “T-Ten! I- I will not talk back to Daddy!”  you cried, tears from the pain running down your face. You were left sore and sensitive, but despite the pain you felt burning pleasure fill your whole body. Jack really was living up to your dream expectations as your Daddy, you were reminded one again just how perfect he was for you.

He proved himself more with how he treated you after a punishment.  

His hand began massaging your ass again, soothing the sting. Jack nuzzled the side of your face affectionately as he stroked the hand shaped welts forming on your ass gently. 

“Whats your color, Babygirl?” he asked softly, kissing your cheek. 

“G-green,” you panted, calming your breath and racing heart down. “Good, good,” he praised, carefully helping you stand on your feet, back facing him. Your legs felt like jelly, you were ready to collapse but his hands on your waist kept you standing. “You took your punishment so well, baby, Daddy is so proud of you!” He kissed the growing welts, praising you. “What a good girl you are, taking Daddys punishment. And look at this,” one of his hands pushed between your legs, coating his fingers once again in your arousal. “You’re even wetter than before...I’m not sure it's much of a punishment if you liked it that much, but a promise is a promise, you took your punishment and behaved...My little girl deserves her reward now, don’t you think?” You moaned and nodded, pushing back against his hand despite how sore you were. “Hmmmm, and I know you’re sore baby, but damn if you didn’t make Daddy as hard as a fucking rock through out all of that. Think you’ll be able to take my cock?” 

He chuckled when you nodded eagerly. 

“Course you can, you’re fucking soaked.” He stood up and gently laid you down on your stomach on the couch. You watched over your shoulder as he pulled a condom out of his pocket and began unbuckling his belt, shoving his pants down his hips. 

Once again, he wasn’t wearing underwear, the hypocrite, but you held your tongue. 

Daddy had just taught you a lesson about answering back, you weren't willing to give up your reward after all that delicious torture. “You’re ass looks fucking gorgeous covered in my hand prints,” he rasped, kicking his pants away and ripping the packet open with his teeth.  “I just want to stare at those pretty welts as I fuck you with my cock, might get a little sore again, baby...Tell me to stop and I will.” 

You nodded, letting him know you understood as he positioned himself behind you, he rolled the condom on, briefly wiping up the precum that had gathered at his tip onto his hand, he held his fingers to your mouth for you to taste. 

He groaned as you swirled your tongue around them, coating his fingers in your saliva and tasting the proof of his arousal. With the condom in place, Jack held himself at his base, rubbing his tip up against your soaked folds, back and forth. “Tell me you’ll be a good girl for me from now on,” he teased, you could hear that arrogant smile in his voice. You whined, frustrated he was holding your reward over your head so to speak. “I’ll be a good girl for you, Daddy...I won't answer back like that again!” you moaned into one of the throw pillows on the couch, holding it against your chest and face, anchoring yourself to something as you tried not to scream from frustration at his teasing. “Yeah? You’ll be a good girl and listen to Daddy too? Keeping still when I tell you to? Not arguing if I deem your behavior naughty?” 

At this point you were sure he was just trying to torture you further. “Yes! Yes Daddy! Please! I swear I'll be good, just please!” you begged. “I’ve been a good girl! Please, I just want your cock!” You didn’t care how pathetic or desperate you sounded as you begged him to fill you, he had manhandled you and spanked you deliciously, in a way no Daddy ever had before and if this was just a ‘mild’ punishment, it excited you further to think how he would handle something more extreme in the future. 

You had never been more aroused in your entire life. 

“Good girls don’t speak like that” he warned, you feared another punishment when you were this close to your pleasure that you actually sobbed into the pillow. “But I'll forgive you, you have been a good girl for me, taking your punishment so well....” he trailed off, distracted by the sight of his aching tip poking at your folds that were framed by his growing marks. He was so close to just...pushing in. It was agonizing having him so close to filling you up and you let him know. Pleading and sobbing harder into the pillow. Taking mercy on you, he pushed forward excruciatingly slow, making you sob in relief, satisfying your burning need, if only for a moment.   “You’re just so desperate for Daddy’s cock,” he rasped, enraptured by his effect on you. 

You moaned and continued sobbing into the pillow, overwhelmed to be finally filled with him. 

His guttural moan joined yours as he bottomed out, sinfully loud.The stretch of his was slightly painful, given he did not take the time to prepare you as carefully as he did the night before. But the way he split you open, was divine. He wasn’t wrong in saying you were desperate for his cock,  and who could blame you when he filled you up so good?

“Jesus, fuck, I don’t think I ever been inside a hole this wet before, Baby,” he grated, rocking his hips into you slowly.  “I can feel it, coating down our legs...Didn’t realize you were such a whore for punishment and Daddy's cock.”  It sounded like an insult, but the wicked grin you heard in his voice told you otherwise. He was delighted at the discovery of just how needy he could make you. 

You were about to comment back when he slowly pulled out of you and then thrust back in, hard, making you scream at the devastating pleasure of him stretching and filling you and the deliciously painful sensation of his hips slapping up against your sore ass. 

Jack chuckled again, beginning a steady, fast and deep pace thrusting into you. He grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you up enough so your face wasn’t buried in the throw pillow. “I want to hear your screams, baby,” he snarled, punctuating his sentence with a devastatingly harsh thrust.  He laughed at you, mockingly, as you screamed again. 

“Fuck, I love hearing your noises, baby, you sound so hot, makes Daddy even harder.”  You felt him twitch inside you as he said it, making you whimper. 

You had no words left, only able to focus on the way he filled you up and rammed against your deepest spot. The burning sting of your ass each time his hips met yours drove you wild. He moaned and growled in approval at the noises you were making, but you were so lost that you weren't even aware you were making them or what you were saying. He rambled on behind you, his raspy voice praising how tight you were, how good you felt around him. You could barely focus on his words.

“Rub your clit baby,” he ordered, the hand not gripping your neck rubbing your ass as he admired your marks. “Daddy wants you to cum on his cock...You’ve earned it” 

You did as you were told, reaching beneath you to rub yourself with a trembling arm. You could feel his balls slap against your fingers with earth thrust. And he was right, you were soaked, your fingers were able to glide smoothly over your bud, sending jolts of pleasure throughout your body like electricity.  You felt your core clamping down on him instantly, making him moan. 

“Fuck, just when I think you can’t get any tighter,” he rumbled. “You’re close, aren't cha Honey Bee? I can feel it,you’re such a perfect little cock whore for me, come on..cum for Daddy, fucking soak me even more.” You whimpered, rubbing your clit faster at his words.

“Cum for Daddy, right fucking now!” You obeyed, you felt like you were being hit by a freight train. 

His teasing and leaving you right as you reached your peak earlier, mixed with the unbearable arousal he had caused with his spanking and dirty words resulted in the most powerful orgasm you had ever felt in your entire life. You felt the wind being knocked out of you as your core clamped down around him almost painfully and milk him for all he was worth.  Your entire body contorted with pleasure, your legs shook violently as you tried to cling to anything to ride out the powerful waves.            You heard him curse behind you, slamming into you harder, painfully so given how tender your ass was but it only added to the pleasure.  He growled out his release, gripping your neck harder.  “Jesus fuck baby that’s it! Yes! Yes! Fuuuucccck!”  His desperate bucking as he chased his own pleasure as you milked him dry simply intensified your orgasm, leaving you a breathless, panting, sweaty mess as your body shook and came down from your high.  “Perfect fucking pussy.”

Even when you were done, as you began winding down from your high, every slight movement of him behind you made your walls flutter more, making you whimper from the over stimulation. 

He groaned deeply behind you as he pulled out, cooing gently at you as you whined. “There we go baby, shhhh now,” came Jack's soothing words. 

You melted into the couch, feeling like a heap of boneless jelly as your eyes started to rift close. He got up off the couch and you heard him walk to the kitchen, disposing of his condom you assumed, you were too tired to even care. You were surprised when he came back and rolled you over gently, picking you up bridal style. You let you a whimper of pain and confusion. “Shhh baby, Daddy’s just taking care of you,” he consoled, kissing the crown of your head. “Rest, let me do all the work.” He carried you upstairs, to his room, gently putting you back on ‘your’ side.

You closed your eyes, ready to drift off as you heard him rummage about in his ensuite. He came back, and you felt him gently begin cleaning you up with another warm washcloth. “Look at my baby...so beautiful,” he murmured tenderly, wiping up and down your thighs, throwing the wash cloth to the side to clean up later once your slick had been cleaned up. “You did so well, took Daddy's punishment and cock so well...What a lucky man I am.” He continued to praise you as he gently rolled you onto your front. You whimpered, your body aching and protesting but you let him manhandle you more. You heard something else rustle, then a zipper. There was a pop of a cap followed by the soothing sensation of his hands rubbing cream into your abused skin.           You whined, the cream too cold for your burning skin but he soothed you with gentle kisses peppered along your shoulder blades. “Let Daddy take care of you, it will be done soon,” he promised. With your welts thoroughly coated you sighed in content, already feeling the stinging sensation start to fade away. “There we go,” he praised, packing up what you now knew to be the first aid kit. He went to put it away and wash his hands before he returned. He moved to lay next to you, fidgeting a bit, wanting to pull you up against him but not willing to agitate your sore ass. He contented himself by laying on his side,  watching you as one hand resting on your back, stroking it affectionately and limbs intertwined  with yours. He kissed everywhere he could reach, just as he had last night, he spoke to you gently, letting you focus on his words rather than on how sore you were. “Rest Baby, when you wake up, we’ll have a lot of work to do,” he hummed. “Gonna get'cha all cleaned up, put a nice meal in your belly, make sure you’re all taken care of.” You snuggled deeper into the plush pillow you were laying on, a smile forming on your lips at his soft promises. “Then Daddy's going to have to get ya home, gonna need to get your allowance sorted, and see you get your appointment for your implant...Daddy wants you without a condom as soon as possible.” he teased, his fingers dancing on your back gently, making the flesh jump.

You whined at the ticklish sensation and he chuckled. “Go to sleep baby, i’ll be here when you wake up this time,” he murmured the promise into your ear as you finally drifted off. 

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Taglist: 

@thats-one-tender-foot​  @luminescentlily​ @nuttybeardetective​ @ishqinbbc​ @ben-is-a-hoe​ @calamity-queen​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @talesfromtheguild​

#DIamonds&Daddies #Agent Whiskey x reader #Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels x reader #Jack daniels x reader #pedro pascal x reader #SugarDaddy!Whiskey #smut #my fic

[poptod]

Pretty, Little Doll (Merriel Shelton x Reader)

Description: Merriel makes friends with the pretty little doll serving ice cream.

Notes: jus thinking about ice cream. implied female reader, but this.. is too much. theres just too much here. youve been warned. edit: wait no u havent. the warning is that theres suggestive themes and such WC: 2.3k

+

After working long hours in the broiling sun of the south, what felt best down his parched throat was a beer––a bar where many of his friends and coworkers drank at, and the waitresses wore low-cut dresses with short hems and long stockings. That sight went down wonderfully with several drinks, but what drew his attention today was a newly opened shop.

There was no sign, but the large, pristine windows gave a good view of the inside. Clean, white walls with several tables and chairs to the left, and a counter to order at on the right. Behind it stood you, dressed to the nines in ruffles and bows as you opened up the shop, displaying buckets of ice cream.

Merriel grinned. Lopsided and toothy, and he jogged inside, sweat and dirt still trailing down his skin and clothes. With his shirt slung over his bare shoulder, he met your eye and his cocky smile returned as his chin tilted high.

"Afternoon," he drawled as he approached the counter, barely grazing over the different flavors before returning to you.

"Good afternoon," you said in a much quieter voice, though you did mimic his smile, just more politely. "How may I help you?"

"You new here?" He asked, gesturing generally to the shop.

"Oh, yes," you said. "My grandmother always wanted an ice cream parlor, so.. I thought I could help her."

"That's awful sweet of ya," he said as he leant on the counter, tilting ever closer to you. "This ice cream sweet as you, boo?"

Your mouth fell open, eyes widening as you did a double take. For a moment you were at a loss for words, but you quickly attempted to stammer out a response, a blush burning your face.

"Well, um, we have, uh, strawberry, and um.. chocolate, vanilla, cherry, and uh, banana. And bourbon."

"Bourbon?" He said, a single brow kinked upwards.

"It's my grandma's favorite," you said with a sheepish chuckle.

"Damn, girl. Grandma knows how to have fun," he laughed.

"Would you like to try it?"

Only if I can lick it off you, he thought, his attention drifting to the soft skin of your neck. The thought of it melting down and pooling in your clavicle. While usually he didn't bother to censor himself for anyone, you seemed a little fainthearted. His chances with you would probably be ruined after one too-strange comment.

"Sure," was what he said instead. "Long as it's cold I don't care."

"I understand that. I moved here recently and it's certainly something to try and adapt to the heat," you rambled as you stuck a tiny plastic spoon in the bourbon ice cream, giving him the single bite. "Are you a local?"

"Been here long's I remember," he said, taking the spoon. "What time do ya get off today?"

"Oh, um," you fixed the ruffles on your collar, "I won't be finished till late. We're not all set up yet."

"If y' need some help, I'd be happy to offer my expertise. I do a hell of a lot a' nailin' things ta the wall."

You stared at him again, once more losing your words. He hadn't quite meant what he said, but the fluster he left you in had him grinning, humored by the connotation you'd incorrectly understood.

"That – that'd be very nice of you," you said, wringing your hands. "I don't want to bother you. You look.. busy."

He didn't miss how your eyes raked up his body, from his wrinkled, dusty pants up his bare waist and chest still gleaming with the sweat of morning work. His jaw could cut hearts and he knew that very well; accented it whenever he could as he cocked his chin upwards, watching carefully as your breath froze.

"I won't be busy tonight. How 'bout this." He walked up right to the counter, pressing his hips into the edge of it. "I come after I finish up ma' own job, and I'll give ya' a hand. Don't even gotta pay me."

"Really? But –"

"Don't worry 'bout it. 'S nothin' for a pretty doll like you."

"At least let me get you a cone? It's hot out today," you offered, reaching for the largest waffle cones you had.

The guys wouldn't really take well to him eating ice cream instead of drinking, but he figured they'd eat their words when they saw you.

"Won't say no to that."

As much as he wanted to boast about you, how pretty and sweet you were and how he so easily slid his way into your life, he didn't want his friends finding your shop and vandalizing it with their own dirty boots and flirtatious looks. Only he could do that.

In the evening he returned as promised, having walked from his house on the outskirts of town to your shop on the main street. The build, decorum, and location of the shop screamed rich family to him. No one in his state would be able to afford a business on main street, much less fully renovated and repainted. He could ask you, he decided, about your family, your grandmother, and of course you.

Inside, you were closing up the tubs of ice cream, hauling them out of the display case and into a back storage room. He knocked before he entered, earning a muffled 'come in!' from you.

Before either of you could speak, both the buckets in your arms began to slip, and he ran round to the other side of the counter to help. He took one from you to ease the load.

"Careful, cher," he said, grabbing another bucket in his other arm. "Don't wanna break yaself."

"Thank you," you said, mostly ignoring his comment. "My grandma is in the other room, so just, um.. be polite and proper."

Fat fuckin' chance, he thought in his head, but fortunately did not say aloud as he followed you.

The door swung open into a freezer room, where an old lady stood in the corner, covered head to toe in coats as she stirred.

"I keep telling you to let me do that," you sighed, setting down your container before rushing to her side.

"I can do it quite well myself. I'm not useless, you know," your grandmother said, staring you down with a glare. You hesitated, gauging her carefully, before you relented with another exasperated sigh.

"Fine, alright," you said quietly. "I'll go work on hanging up all the paintings and such."

"Thank you, dear."

You motioned to him as you passed by, pushing open the door and heading out of the freezer. He once again followed you, watching your ass with a grin you never saw.

"We need to hang up these," you said as you brought him to one of the circular tables, each of which carried a small pile of paintings, license plates, or tin posters.

"You got a ladder?" He asked, glancing to the high walls.

"Yes sir," you said, sorting through the different posters. He quirked a brow, intrigued by the possibility of that nickname.

"I neva did get ya name," he said as he leant on one of the tables.

"(Y/N). What's yours?"

"Pretty name for a pretty doll," he half sung, the same, one-sided smile stretched lazily across his face. "My name's Merriel."

"Also a pretty name," you said, picking the largest poster to start with. A pin-up girl in a sailor's suit. "Our ladder isn't all that steady. Will you hold it for me?"

He opened his mouth to offer himself up, but with one look to the ruffled skirt you wore, he shut himself up.

"'Course," was what he said instead.

Everything was a bit of a game––one you were unwittingly a part of, and one where you played your role rather well. A sweet, unassuming little thing, essentially a toy for him, accepting his help and letting him in. He hated to act the predator, but when it came to you he couldn't help it.

That was how he saw it. Hunting you down and taking you for his own at the end of a long chase. However, to any outsider, it appeared in a much simpler way; a young man doing anything for someone he'd developed a crush on. That was how it truly was, though the innocence of his crush was abruptly stripped away as he held the ladder, staring shamelessly up your skirt.

"Merriel?"

"Huh?" He said, broken out of his dreamy trance.

"I said could you hand me another nail," you said, pointing towards the package of nails with your hammer.

"Oh. You sure ya ain't gonna fall if I leave?" He asked with a grin. You chuckled, shaking your head.

"I'll be alright."

"If you say so, boo."

After a little while he supposed he ought to offer some more help than holding a rickety ladder, and took your place at the top with a hammer in his hand and nails in his mouth. As promised, his experience with nailing things to the wall (nails specifically, not women) made him much faster than you, and the entirety of the wall behind the counter was covered within fifty minutes.

"Thank you for your help, again," you said as you put away the hammer and nails.

"My pleasure," he said, the image of your thighs still fresh in his mind. "If y' ever need help.. I'm happy t' to be of service."

"Well, thank you. Come stop by again soon. On the house," you said as he left, peeking your head out the door and giggling.

"You know I'm stoppin' by again, get two things done in one trip. Some'in sweet for th' eyes and the tongue," he laughed, watching your face light up with a blush.

And it ain't just the ice cream, he thought.

Over the course of the coming summer, he left drinking for the evening, and instead visited your shop over his lunch break. You insisted on giving his cones for free considering he continued to help you out, but he usually found ways to sneak you the money anyway. You were not, as he assumed earlier, a very rich family.

His favorite activity, which he found rather early on, was to sit outside on burning hot days, his shirt draped over the back of his chair as he ate. Through the pristine glass, he spied you watching him often.

You couldn't help it either. Most of your life was spent in your family cabin, cutting you off from many teen and early adulthood experiences. People flirting with you was a lot to deal with, especially when it came from someone as pretty as him, the smooth dips and ripples of his lean muscles shining with sweat and dirt from his construction site.

His tongue. Ever since he made that comment on that first evening you met, you hadn't been able to get it out of your mind. How it rolled and drawled between his puffy lips drawn backwards with his teeth, in a very specific method you'd pinned down to 'the Tongue Thing'.

Your heated, embarrassed blush only worsened as ice cream dripped down his fingers from the heat, cleaned up by a sharp and precise tongue. You could hardly breathe watching him like that, but as he caught your eye you turned quickly away.

His bravado had clearly earned a huge boost from catching you mid-drool, prevalent in his step as he waltzed back into your store. You hardly met his eye, pretending to clean up the counter, but that didn't stop him. He walked right up to you, leaning down with his elbows on the stone, forcing you to stop and look at him, which you did with incredible reluctance.

"You been watchin' me, cher?" He asked, close enough to see his reflection in your wide eyes.

"No," you said quietly.

"A' think you're lyin'," he said, leaning in closer yet. "Betta' not do that. Could land you in some trouble."

You raised your brows.

"Are you threatening me?"

"Not with anythin' ya can't take," he said as he raked his eyes purposefully slow down your body. When you appeared to be at a loss for words, he said, "I'll ask ya again. Were you watching me?"

"... and if I don't answer?" You tested carefully.

"Well then, I think there's too much space between us," he said, grinning cockily as he jumped the counter, crowding you suddenly.

You drew in a sharp breath, backing up as he continued to step forwards till he pinned you to the wall with his hips.

"Tell the truth, baby." he drawled, carefully setting his hands on your hips and pulling you in. Something hard poked you.

"I – I wasn't staring, I –"

He half-grinded into you, pressing you tighter against the wall as his hands drew upwards, resting at your waist.

"Such a pretty thing," he mumbled beneath his breath, watching your stumbling reaction closely.

By pinning you with his hips, he had free roam to move his hands, one of which toyed with the hem of your skirt. It was wrong, certainly, and it was also illegal since you were in plain view of main street, but he lost control the minute his fingertips brushed the soft, supple skin of your thigh.

Your breathing hastened, hips yearning for something, though you didn't know what. When the rough skin of his fingers suddenly brushed inbetween your thighs your hands shot up to steady yourself on Merriel's shoulders. He laughed, running a finger through your lips, finding you already soaked and not wearing underwear. Instantly his laugh faded, devolving into a long, needy moan as his hips once more pushed up into you.

"Th – there's someone – someone coming," you said, eyes darting to the front door.

Immediately he was off you, stepping to the side as you straightened yourself out. You walked forward with shaky legs, which he most definitely noticed, and took the mother and son's orders as usual. When you finished you glanced to him, your heart stopping at the sight of him licking your slick from his fingers.

"I guess your ice cream is as sweet as you, boo," he murmured in your ear, giving you no chance to react before rushing back out to return to his construction job.

#snafu x reader #merriel snafu shelton #the pacific hbo #rami malek #rami malek character

[ao3theskyisblue]

Take it easy

Summary:

“Are you looking to get infected?” Nancy raises an eyebrow, smiling when TK snorts. “Because I’m pretty sure I can make that happen.”

“I see you’re just going to be a pain in my neck both on shift and off shift, huh?” TK teases, the words said without an ounce of heat, and Nancy shrugs, grinning smugly.

“My lungs are dying, TK. I think I have complaining privileges.”

Written for Day 4 of  @911lonestarangstweek : Sickfic + “You need to rest.” 

Read on AO3

“Tell me I did not just hear from that lovely nurse Melody say what I think she just said.”

Nancy forces back a loud groan, knowing that she would just be coughing up her lungs again. Looking up from her Instagram feed, she spies TK leaning against the entry of her hospital room, looking less than impressed. She parts her lips to reply, but TK holds up a hand.

“That was a rhetorical question. I forbid you to say even a single word.” The words sound like a warning, but Nancy has worked and gotten to know her partner long enough to see how worried he was underneath the whole tough façade. His arms were crossed, trying to mask how he was itching to wring his hands together, and she could see the residual trembling as he fought back the urge to tap his feet against the linoleum flooring.

“I could have my lungs taken out and still have enough air to fight you, Strand.” Nancy croaks, wincing when she hears how bad she sounds through all the mucus and dry throat, but TK doesn’t bat an eye. She follows him with her eyes as he tentatively closes the distance between them to sit by the chair at her bedside, obviously ignoring the warnings the hospital personnel gave about personal space.

“Are you looking to get infected?” Nancy raises an eyebrow, smiling when TK snorts. “Because I’m pretty sure I can make that happen.”

“I see you’re just going to be a pain in my neck both on shift and off shift, huh?” TK teases, the words said without an ounce of heat, and Nancy shrugs, grinning smugly.

“My lungs are dying, TK. I think I have complaining privileges.” She coughs to the side that TK is not currently occupying, the brutal hacking sound making her entire chest feel on fire as she gratefully accepts the spit tray offered to her along with the glass of water.

“Which is exactly why you are not coming back to work. Did you seriously think the doctors would discharge you like this?” TK lifts an eyebrow skeptically, running a gentle hand down her back as she tries to breathe in without coughing all the air back out again. When she feels no more incoming coughs, she straightens to look at him.

“I can flash my badge and get a discharge back home. Then I’ll just slap on a mask and go back to work. I didn’t break my legs, TK, I have pneumonia. I’m perfectly fine.” Nancy gripes, narrowing her eyes at TK’s scoff.

“You need to rest. Need I remind you why you’re in the hospital in the first place?” TK sighs, lifting his hands up before dropping them down on his lap. “You already had a cold before that call, and then you decided to leap off the side of a bridge like Prince Charming in that third Cinderella movie. Into the lake. Which was freezing, by the way.” TK shuddered, as if taken back to that scene, and Nancy held back a laugh because that would not help her coughing get any better.

“Oh, silly me. I should have dipped my toes in the water one-hundred feet up in the air to test the temperature before trying to save that little girl’s life. I’ll make sure to keep that in mind and grow longer legs in my next lifetime to do just that.” Nancy says drily, and she just smiles innocently as TK glares daggers at her.

“And you say I’m the impulsive one.”

“You literally jumped in right after me, so that argument’s invalid.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t catch pneumonia after, did I?”

They stare at each other blankly, before their lips twitch upwards at the same time as laughter fills up the room. Nancy tries to hold her own giggles back, but it was difficult when she had a partner that gave as good as he got, which made her want to strangle him half the time, and the rest of the time hug him and never let go.  

“I still remember the double death glares from the captains,” Nancy manages to get out between their laughter with coughs mixed in between, and TK lifts a hand to cover his face, a wide grin peeking out from between his fingers.

“Little Amelia must have been so confused. I mean, there we were, soaked to the bone holding her in between us while our entire station just glares at us and planning the best way to murder us both.” TK snorts, and Nancy feels a new bout of laughter threatening to come out when she remembers the six pairs of eyes that just stared at them incredulously.

“You’re lucky Carlos wasn’t there. I’m surprised he hasn’t already been lugging around a portable doghouse for you to climb into next time this kind of thing happens.” Nancy snickers, laughing at the face TK makes at that.

“Oh, he chewed me out thoroughly when I got home. In between tucking in blankets and not letting me leave the couch in my homemade burrito, I couldn’t so much as go to the washroom without him glaring at me for even trying to get up.” TK rolls his eyes fondly, and Nancy feels her smile soften at the affection shining through every single one of his words.

“Love looks good on you, Strand.” Nancy nudges him lightly with an elbow, and receives a gentle squeeze on her arm. She knows she’s not going to like the next words that come out of TK’s mouth when his eyes suddenly sparkle mischievously.

“Speaking of love,” Nancy shoots him a glare at that, because she knows exactly where this conversation was going and that was not to describe what it was. “How’s that thing that we were discussing a few days ago going?” TK wiggles his eyebrows teasingly, and Nancy sighs in exasperation.

“It’s not going. Anywhere. We’re friends,” Nancy shrugs, looking down at the hospital linens, slowly picking at them with her hands. It was the truth, they were friends. So what if her insides feels a little weird when they were in a room together, it didn’t mean anything. “And she hasn’t spoken a single word to me since this happened.”

She let out a few quiet coughs, remembering how Marjan had hovered over them – over her at the scene, but then after she got admitted into the hospital, nothing. Not a peep. Not even a text or the occasional meme they send to each other over Instagram.

Maybe she had just been deluding herself the whole time.

Maybe her heart was slowly splitting into tiny pieces.

Asking for the moon was sometimes easier than wishing someone would stay.

TK falls silent next to her, and just when she tries to put on her best smile and change the subject, she feels a hand squeeze hers.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop. You and I both know Marjan wouldn’t give someone the radio silence treatment without a reason. And, she has the night off today.” TK trails off, the suggestion lingering in the air and Nancy sighs.

She just wants to forget.

“You’re right, I’m just a little-” Nancy cuts herself off, pursing her lips at the frenzied thoughts circling her mind.

“-Sick and just want to see the person who makes your heart feel all funny for a while?” TK proposes, and Nancy turns to shoot him a playful glare, ignoring the heat slowly seeping into her cheeks.

“Okay smartass, turn down the notch on cocky bastard a little, will you?” Nancy grins as TK laughs, and she feels a brief moment of satisfaction when he doesn’t move away from her swat to his shoulder. “Now, I know for a fact that you brought food with you. Give me my offering.”

With a small tsk and a quiet mutter of “of course, since you asked so nicely,” TK hands her a cloth bag. She slowly takes out a metal container along with a spoon wrapped neatly in paper towels, lifting the lid curiously. Her eyes widen in surprise at what’s inside, smiling at how pretty it looks.

“Tofu?”

“Tofu pudding,” TK adds, smiling. “Carlos has been into Chinese cuisine lately and found this off the internet. You usually eat it cold, but we thought warming it up a little might be better for you. You get your daily dose of protein while actually enjoying the food, it’s a win-win.”

Nancy picks up the spoon and dips it into the soft pudding, admiring how smoothly the spoon slides through. She lifts it up to her mouth, and although a little bland (though she couldn’t really eat any heavily seasoned food for a while anyway), it was delicious.

“If you don’t marry your boyfriend, I’ll do it for you.” Nancy takes another bite of the soothing goodness, smiling around her mouthful when TK blushes.

“High praise, I’ll keep that in mind.” TK chuckles, and Nancy grins before taking another bite, loving how easy it was to swallow.

Then, another thought crosses her mind.

“Wait, how did you get in here, anyway? I thought they were barring visitors.” Nancy narrows her eyes at TK suspiciously, wondering how the nurses hadn’t come in to kick him out yet. TK just smirks, leaning back against the chair and crossing a leg over the other.

“You clearly don’t know me very well if you think that’s going to stop me.”

Nancy hums, though she really couldn’t complain. He brought her food, after all.

“Fair point.”

.

Nights were the worst.

She has been a paramedic for close to seven years, and still, she could never stop being offended by her own body betraying her at the most crucial time of the day when she needed to rest without wanting to tear her lungs out and dunk them in an ice bath.  

Sighing to give into her fate of a sleepless night yet again, she opens her eyes slowly, blinking against the dim lighting of her secluded room. Picking up her phone, she lets her eyes adjust to the change in brightness before a small smile slowly makes its way on her lips at the cute Buttercup video Mateo sent her a little earlier.

“Can’t sleep?”

Nancy jumps, a muffled shout coming out followed with a series of long coughs, making her wince.

Ugh, even the coughs at night were worse.

“Whoa, hey, easy. Sorry.” A warm hand rubbed her back in soothing circles, much like what TK had done earlier, but these hands left a lingering heat that didn’t disappear when they retracted hesitatingly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Marjan repeats quietly, her brown eyes stretched wide as she looks at her worriedly, and Nancy tries to smile, waving her off.

“It’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting anyone.” Nancy lets out another cough before clearing her throat, gratefully accepting the water Marjan offers her. She takes a few sips, cringing at how her throat burns with each swallow.

The burn provides a welcome distraction from how Marjan was currently standing beside her hospital bed, wearing a simple green long-sleeved turtleneck and matching hijab, with a soft smile that brightened every single room she walked into.  

She suddenly felt self-conscious about her own appearance, no doubt sporting dark eye-bags from the lack of sleep and looking paler than a ghost from not eating much other than the food TK or Captain Vega brought in for her. Paul had also swung by a few times, along with the other members of the 126 but she didn’t have the heart to tell them and their openly kind expressions that she couldn’t really stomach a lot right now. That, and how ingesting anything, including water, felt like swallowing porcupine quills.

Still, the urge to hide behind her hair was strong.

“How did you even get in here?” Nancy asks instead, frowning when she remembered that visiting hours were long over, and yet, here Marjan was.

She noticed Marjan shifting nervously, and it was definitely something new. She wasn’t sure she’s ever seen Marjan being awkward or nervous, and certainly not around her.

“TK pulled some strings. And I may have had a little…conversation with the nurses.” Marjan winced a little, and Nancy couldn’t help quirking her lips up in a small smile.

“Conversation, huh?” She hums absently, biting back a laugh at Marjan’s nervous glances back at the nurse’s station. “Is that what you called the ripping-into you gave the tattoo artists?” She couldn’t help tease, her smile widening at the spots of colour spreading across Marjan’s cheeks.

“Well it definitely seems like you’re feeling a little better.” Marjan sighs in fond exasperation, the awkwardness dissipating between them, and Nancy follows her figure as she sits down tentatively on the chair beside her.

“Do firefighters just have no concept of ‘I’m infectious?’ Aren’t you also a qualified medic?” Nancy asks playfully, her heart doing a little jump at Marjan’s wide grin.

“In sickness and in health,” Marjan shrugs, as if she hadn’t just quoted wedding vows at her, and Nancy just stares at her blankly. Marjan lifts her gaze, and she fidgets slightly when she feels those eyes staring straight through her.

“I’ve never seen you with your hair down,” Marjan comments quietly, and Nancy starts, lifting a hand self-consciously to run her fingers through it. “It’s usually always in a bun or a ponytail. You look…different.”

Okay, that fills her with mild panic.

“I can always tie it back up? My mother always hated how long I would let my hair grow, so I always have a hair tie ready-”

A hand grasps her wrist gently before she can tug the hair tie off her wrist, and she looks up to see Marjan looking at her warmly.

“It’s a good different.” Nancy lets out a small puff of air at that, slowly lowering her hands back onto the thin covering. She couldn’t help but notice Marjan still not letting go of her wrist. Something conflicting passed by her expression, and Nancy noticed that she kept on parting her lips to say something before holding back.

Leaning back slowly against the ridiculous number of pillows, turning her head to clear her vision of a few loose strands of hair, Nancy waited.

“I’m sorry.”

Okay, that was something she hadn’t been expecting.

She snaps her head up, turning to look at Marjan in surprise.

Why was she apologizing?

“…for what?” Nancy asks cautiously, frowning when Marjan shifts her hand to squeeze her arm. Her other hand is pinching on the edges of her clothes, and Nancy wonders if it’s a nervous tick.

There’s a sharp laugh, though it was lacking all humour that cuts through the quietness of the room, and Nancy wants to smooth out the creases between her eyebrows as she scowls sadly.

“I gave you the silent treatment. I ignored you when– I just, I’m sorry.” Nancy feels her shoulders relaxing, and suddenly, she wants nothing more than to hug the woman looking like the human version of a kicked puppy beside her.

“But you came,” Nancy says softly, waiting until Marjan looks up before continuing. “You still came, and that’s all that matters.” In a sudden burst of courage, she covers the hand that’s on her arm with her own, smiling at the look of surprise that greets her.

Marjan blinks at her, then down at their hands. With a small smile, she squeezes hers.

And Nancy lets her.

“You know,” Marjan starts, her eyes looking a little distant as if she was re-living a memory. “When you just leaped off the side of the bridge without a second thought, the first thing I felt wasn’t fear.”

Nancy feels her heart drop to her stomach at the look of sheer terror resonating in her eyes, but Marjan still doesn’t look up fully.

“Instead, it was a strong pull, screaming at me to jump in after you, a never-ending urge to make sure you were safe,” Marjan says lowly, squeezing their hands tighter. “So, when I couldn’t do that, when Paul had to physically shove me back, that was when the fear hit.”

Nancy suddenly couldn’t feel the burning pain in her throat. She couldn’t feel the constant ache in her chest, or the little prickles of pain every time she breathed.

No, she couldn’t feel anything other than the warmth of Marjan’s hand in hers, and how hard she was squeezing it.

“There was- there was a moment where I wondered if I would ever see either of you again,” Marjan’s breath hitches at the end, and Nancy feels her own heart break at the way her eyes shine brightly.

“I have so much I want to know about you,” Her heart stuttered at the three words, said without an ounce of hesitation. When Marjan looks up at her with shining eyes, she forces back the urge to wipe away the tears that hadn’t fallen.

“I’m here. And I’m safe. A little battered and bruised, but I’ll be just fine.” Nancy whispers, smiling reassuringly, and feels lighter when Marjan smiles back, albeit a little weakly.

Still, it was a genuine smile nonetheless, and there was nothing Nancy enjoyed more in the world than to witness Marjan’s brilliant smile every day.

“Besides, I’ve already been pushing the doctors to release me already.” Nancy shrugs, ignoring the glare immediately sent her way.

“You need to rest,” Marjan shoots back without a beat, and Nancy rolls her eyes.

“First Strand, now you? I’m fine.” Nancy scowls, though the little sniffle she lets out after doesn’t really help her case. Still, she glares up at the female firefighter in front of her, daring her to comment on it.

They’re locked into one of their usual staring contests, where their eyes speak more than any words they could say. Nancy was determined to not be the one who broke this time, but the piercing look of seriousness was starting to make her squirm.

Marjan finally blinked, making her feel a brief sense of victory before it quickly disappeared when she says, “You don’t need to push yourself so hard all the time.”

Nancy scowls.

Pushing herself, huh?

She thinks back to her years in college, to all the people who didn’t believe. To her parents, who had tried to be encouraging, but she could still see the tiny flickers of doubt. After all, a paramedic? Long hours, average pay, and no account for the danger?

She knows there were many other reasons that she tried her best to shove into the deepest recesses of her mind, but she had gotten where she was today by working hard, without once looking back.

Sitting back from a job she’s known and wanted her entire life didn’t feel right, even when she could barely take in a breath without coughing up her lungs or ingest anything other than water.

There’s another squeeze of her hand, and Nancy is shaken out of her thoughts as a pair of eyes watch her carefully.

“We all see you,” Marjan says softly, and Nancy swallows past the pain. “We all love you, Nancy, and we just want you to feel better before you hurt yourself even worse.”

In the dim lighting of the room they were in, surrounded by the smell of sickness and the low humming of the heater, Nancy suddenly feels lighter.

She squeezes the hand she hadn’t let go of, a quiet chuckle breaking free.

“You all love me, huh?” She couldn’t help tease, but instead of flushed cheeks and the anticipated stuttering, Marjan just looks at her with resolution in her eyes.

“Without a doubt.”

 Without a doubt.

#911 lone star fic #Nancy and TK friendship #Nancy and Marjan friendship #911lsangstweek #Lol can be read as Nancy/Marjan #Hints of feelings from Nancy

[michaelmyersmalewife]

the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat 2/?

- sephiroth/reader

- sfw

“You look like shit.” said one of your fellow 2nds - Devon - through a mouthful of food.

“Thanks.” you replied, sitting next to him like a bag of rocks.

By the time you dragged yourself out of the training room (not even bothering to hit the communal showers and heading straight for the cafeteria in an exhausted stupor), there was only pallid, unspecified meat and soggy leaves that might’ve been a salad once left in the reservoir. It wasn’t bad. But it wasn’t good either, uncomfortably sitting somewhere in the so-so region. Looking at the vaguely edible shapes in their cold, rectangular boxes, you figured they were more of an essence of whatever they labeled it as. A single piece of white bread had more flavor. You stacked your tray with what you could, and just before you left to grab a seat, you doubled back to grab a water bottle.

After finally having the chance to settle, the muscles in your arms and legs ached. Like someone had taken a hammer to your joints. It was nothing like the feeling of being a spunky 3rd just coming back from rigorous training - you had ached then, but it felt good. It felt like progress. Now you were just dead tired. You suspected with great indignation that the feeling wouldn’t subside in a good while.

You were about to shove a fork full of the essence of meat in your mouth when you couldn’t help but look up at the friend sitting across from you. He was staring at you with wide, bluer-than-the-sky eyes. His puppy stare (that you made sure never to call it that to his face).

“Vic.” you said, feinting a stern tone. “Don’t wanna talk about it.”

You were dying to talk about it.

“You’re dying to talk about it.” said Victor and Devon in unison.

You groaned, hands flying to your face and tugging at your eyelids as you dragged them down. You had laid there in the training room for a good five minutes after Sephiroth left, half-expecting him to come back and further damage your ego. But he didn’t. And thankfully, no one else happened upon your battered form, for better or worse. Admittedly, you were feeling a lot less achy now that you were moving around, but where your back had collided with the floor now spouted an angry bruise in varying shades of yellow and purple.

“You sparred with Sephiroth?”

Victor - a 3rd and a few years your younger - always had at least one star in each of his eyes, but as you finished your lackluster retelling of the bout, he was twinkling like the night sky. “That’s so cool.”

“Oh yeah, real cool.” you picked at a clump of soggy leaves. “Ice cold.”

“That bad huh?” Devon said, with all the concern of wet concrete.

Slouching back down from where he was practically leaning across the entire table, Victor pouted.

“C’mon, it couldn’t have been that bad! At least you’re not stuck doing drills every day. Do you know how many of these guys would beg to be where you are?”

“At least you have someone to tell you what to do. Sephiroth just..expects me to know. It’s so - he’s so-” you punctuated with a grumble in your throat and a stab at the chalky meat on your tray, but it was so tender that it flaked away.

“He trusts you - that’s a good thing!”

You paused, taking a begrudging swig of water. “I guess..you have a point.”

You were still feeling slightly bitter, but a childish smirk played at the corners of your mouth. “Okay maybe it wasn’t completely terrible.”

They both perked up, looking at you curiously.

“I might’ve cut his hair.”

Both of their eyes shot open. “You what?”

---

It was dark by the time you and your friends dispersed, drowsily heading back to your respective quarters. But as tired as you were, you still felt like gum stuck on the bottom of someone’s shoe, so with a heavy sigh you hauled yourself to the showers.

They were empty, and completely quiet save for the tap-tap-tap of a few leaky showerheads. You tried to control your shivering as you turned the squeaky knob, a paralyzing chill washing down your body as cold water hit your skin like thousands of tiny icicles. The temperature evened out after a minute or two, though it was so late in the day that the highest it was able to reach was a tepid lukewarm.

You made quick work of your hair, combing out the last of the suds with your fingers. As you washed the rest of your body, your thoughts wandered back to the bout. It had only been a few hours since the training session, and you were already feeling a little better, if a little sore. But now the bruise was the least of your worries.

Sephiroth. Trusting you. You.

You wanted to laugh. You didn’t know why the concept was so unfathomable. To you, it just seemed like he was above that sort of thing. You knew of the other 1sts - it was almost impossible to avoid them, even if you wanted to - and how they were as thick as thieves. You knew your mentor was closer to them than anyone else, recalling brief memories of seeing them roaming the halls together, laughing and being..normal. You couldn’t imagine yourself in that sphere. You’d have better luck trying to catch a cloud.

Shutting off the water, you halfheartedly dried yourself off, your hair still slightly damp on your pillow as you faded into a dreamless sleep.

---

Waking up that next morning wasn’t as much of a chore as you thought it was. You were still sore as hell, but at least you could get up without complaining. Much.

You got dressed, your back popping as you threaded your arms through your sleeveless shirt’s armholes. Then, you rolled your shoulders, taking your wrist in one hand and pulling it across your chest, stretching and popping the joints in that socket. And then the other. Sliding your suspenders over your shoulders, you spied your reflection in the mirror in your bathroom. You could fit yourself inside it, with at least a foot to spare. But that foot was reserved for the door to swing open. You couldn’t count the amount of times you’ve stubbed your toe while opening the thing with both hands twice over. Brushing your teeth, you poked mindlessly at the dark bags under your eyes. You hadn’t noticed when they had gotten there, nor for how long. You spit into the sink.

Fixing your hair - which had somehow knotted itself in the back, making you look like you had gotten shocked by lightning in your sleep - with your hands, you were satisfied enough to leave your room. It was still early enough in the morning that the cafeteria was closed for at least another half-hour. Feeling restless, a prickling in your bones that couldn’t be quelled by sitting alone in your room - or anywhere else for that matter - you decided to go for a run.

The base’s outside training fields (that weren’t fields at all, but rather a series of cleared pads that weren’t completely overrun with crates of ammunition and other surplus supplies that had yet to be shipped to a warehouse somewhere) were a fair walk away, but you didn’t mind.

As you reached the end of the hallway, the elevator leading to the ground floor already in sight, the door slid open, revealing a figure that you didn’t quite register at first. You awkwardly stopped, your boots slightly skidding against the linoleum as if urging you forward. Which you did anyway, like a machine that had sputtered slightly before kicking itself back into gear. Sephiroth hadn’t seen your buffer, but the sound of it drew his eyes to you almost immediately. He stepped out, jutting one shoulder out first before the rest of his body followed. Trying not to meet his eyes, you waited for him to exit the elevator.

“Morning, sir.” you muttered, leftover grogginess on your tongue.

He nodded, a cordial expression flashing across his face.

As you passed him, one foot about to land in the elevator, you paused. There was a hand on your shoulder. You took a step back, straightening your posture without thinking.

His hand was gloved, always gloved, the leather not entirely warm - like he had just put them on. He wasn’t grabbing you in place, but Sephiroth had a gravity to him that made you want to stay there. It kind of scared you, but you were too busy shaking off the last vestiges of sleep that liked to hang around in the morning to care. If anything, you were just confused.

“Um.” you didn’t mean for the sound to come out, but too much silence made you nervous. You stayed quiet, too muddled to think of anything to say.

Sephiroth himself wasn’t silent for too long, but it was long enough to put a little seed of apprehension in you. You shifted your weight on your feet.

“Was this from yesterday?” he said in a notably smaller tone than usual.

It took you a full second to notice that he was looking at your shoulder, and another second to realize what he was talking about. “Oh - oh, that?”

You twisted your neck as far as it could go, bending back slightly even though the motion was more irritating than you’d like to admit. You gave the bruise a passing glance.

“I mean..yeah.” you said. “But I’ve had worse, can hardly feel it anymore actually.” you quickly added after seeing his brows crease lower on his face.

“Hey, man, seriously I’m over it. It’s just a bruise, you didn’t like, cut my arm off.” Though for a moment, you thought he would have done exactly that.

“I tend to get carried away with that sort of thing..it was unprofessional of me,” He almost seemed to shrink into himself, but he looked more like one of the droopy willows you saw once while patrolling a small village outside Midgar. He withdrew his hand like he had just stung you. “I apologize for causing you harm.”

“You..don’t have to, Seph, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

“But-”

“Honest. It was just a fall, that’s how sparring matches are.” you waved him off. His concern was sweet at first, albeit strange and just a little uncomfortable. But now you felt like you were consoling a kicked puppy. “Besides, it was fun.”

“..Fun?”

“Well, yeah. It’s not every day you get to fight, er, you.”

“I see.” he said, noticeably relaxing a bit. “So you’re sure you’re alright?”

“Positive.”

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly in..satisfaction? Relief? Something like that. He looked like he was about to leave, but before he could fully turn his back to you he stopped, turning his head.

“Oh, if you can, meet me in the briefing room in about an hour. There’s something I’d like to speak to you about.”

You could feel your stomach actively turning into a pit. “Aren’t we talking right now?” you said, feeling more than a little thick in the head and wanting very badly to slap yourself when you saw a crease form between his brows.

“It’s important. I requested a meeting with Lazard.”

The pit in your stomach was now a sinkhole.

“Oh,” you said. “Okay, uh...cool.”

Sephiroth snorted with some degree of amusement. “Don’t be late.”

“Sure!” you said maybe a little too enthusiastically. You never were good at masking your anxiety. “Sure.” you quickly repeated in a markedly more composed tone, doing an even worse job at sounding calm.

He was already walking away - thank god. You didn’t want to see his face. As the elevator doors severed you from him, you found yourself tapping your foot against the panels of the floor, arms crossed so tight they felt stiff and weird dangling at your sides as you walked outside to the training field.

You ran laps (you weren’t counting, but it felt infinite), your brain shutting itself off without you meaning to. There was too much to think about, but it was so early in the morning you told yourself, that you deserved not thinking about any of it. Just for a couple minutes, a few more laps. The apology, the hand on your shoulder, the meeting, the apology - nope. Not thinking about it.

---

By the time you reached the cafeteria, you found that you weren’t that hungry at all.

#sephiroth #sephiroth x reader #ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #crisis core #ff7 crisis core #my fics

[haloud]

things we could burn in one go (eminence) - chapter 7

also on ao3

Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Isabel Evans & Max Evans & Michael Guerin, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes, Forrest Long/Alex Manes Additional Tags: post-s2, Canon Compliant, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, starts forlex ends malex, other characters may appear - Freeform, tags subject to update

Chapter Summary: Alive but weak, Michael wanders Alex’s house as he tries to come to terms with the past few days.

Excerpt:

 At night, Alex slept in his bed, and Michael slept in the guest room, but the sheets were Alex’s, the pillows were Alex’s, the walls and floor were built to hold him, he picked out the curtains. Alex was inescapable. And now, neither could Michael escape knowing that he still slept in old band shirts worn soft and peeling, that he composed music with his eyes closed and hid his written notations in books around his house, that he kept all his condiments room temperature and screwed up his nose at the thought of cold sauce on hot food. All these domestic details he’d lived and loved without, stuffed inside the empty spaces in his skull after only a few days.

 What was he supposed to do, knowing this? The little details made up friendships, too, for certainly Michael knew plenty of his siblings’ idiosyncrasies, even kept shelves in his heart for lovely little scraps old one or two-night lovers had left him as parting gifts.

 But things would never, ever be so simple and nostalgic and normal with Alex. Too many years had passed for Michael to even attempt to fool himself. His ribs sung like a tuning fork struck pure, and Michael longed, with the oldest, basest longing, to be anything so useful for Alex to set the music of his life to. And here he was, sharing Alex’s house with Alex and Alex’s boyfriend’s dog and Alex’s boyfriend’s toothbrush on the sink and Alex’s boyfriend’s clothes in the laundry.

 So he’d live with it.

--

 “Fuck!”

 Michael’s water glass flew to his hand but bumped the edge of the table and skidded the last few feet, spilling water across its surface. Still cursing, Michael shoved his chair back and got to his feet to clean shit up the old-fashioned way, on weak and shaky legs, with weaker and shakier lungs.

 Max kept healing him, checking for any possible little injury, but it seemed that Michael was just weakened by the enormous strain Jones’s “teaching” had put on his body, and he’d have to build back his strength.

 So there it was. All his fears about not being to protect anyone, all the needy clamor in his head, all of them led him here, by nothing but his own recklessness and desperation. Weak as a kitten. More a burden on Alex, quite literally, in his life, taking up his space, invading his home, leaning on him to get from point A to point B.

 Fuck.

 He was, at least, too tired to wallow in much, in between long jags of ragged sleep, torn apart by vivid dreams of light and letters and scraps of knowledge just out of reach. But despite the awful aftertaste of near-death those dreams represented, they were almost better than his waking hours, hovered over by a furious Isobel and a Max worried half to death, Valenti inspecting him head to toe the normal way, Maria trying to cheer him up, and      Alex    .

 They hadn’t spoken much since Michael awoke. Alex had to work, and when he didn’t, they, well. Cohabitating was a lot to get used to. But no matter how awkward things got, he offered a perfect porcelain protection, and Michael studied him obsessively for flaw, for the true Alex underneath the façade brought on by Michael’s own foolishness.

 “Everything going okay?” Max asked, emerging from the guest bedroom, Buffy at his heels. She’d become his shadow in the days since Michael’s near-death; it was almost endearing enough to keep Michael from snapping at him, but only almost.

 “Fine,” he snarled, but far from driving Max off, his tone brought Max forward, to sit across the table from him and fold his arms.

 If snapping wasn’t gonna keep people away, why had he been working so hard to not be a total asshole for the past few days, through every well-meaning coddle and condescension from any one of their friends, from everyone but Isobel, who wasn’t talking to him.

 Max sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, and a twinge of guilt disturbed Michael’s surly mood.

 “Go ahead,” he said a little too loudly, before those thoughts could get to him. “Tell me what a hypocrite I am. One of you has to, and it might as well be you. I was fucking stupid after getting on your case constantly, and it almost killed me. Go ahead!”

 “You seem to have gotten a head start, so I don’t see the need,” Max said wryly.

 Michael scoffed.

 Picking up Michael’s abandoned glass, Max ran his finger around the rim as he spoke. “You know, I know what it’s like to lose this. When my heart was still so weak…I pushed myself too hard and almost…well. You know. So I understand. Give yourself time. Let your system settle and see where you are.”

 The words were too kind and too logical for Michael to bear, so he let out another bratty huff and didn’t respond.

 Max just sighed again. “Well. Anyway. Kyle’s going to be here soon. I know you hate him, but he’s—”

 “I don’t.”

 “Huh?”

 “Hate him. Kinda hard to hate the guy after what he did for you. I don’t like the doctor shit, but…”

 That brought out a small smile on Max’s face, and the knot in Michael’s stomach unclenched. “That’s good,” he said.

 A knock on the door saved Michael from having to find a dignified answer, and he stood hastily to answer it—a little too hastily, it turned out, because the world tipped and took Michael with it.

 “How ‘bout you let me,” Max said as Michael dropped heavy back into his chair before falling. He clapped him on the shoulder as he passed. “Alex’d kill me anyway if it was trouble and I let you answer it.”

     Alex.    The too-casual reminder that he might have some kind of stake in Michael’s well-being sent him reeling. What was he supposed to do with that information, that perspective? How did he earn it, how was he worthy of it, and how did he keep it from flying away? All questions that were too much to answer—questions he’d asked his ceiling and his eyelids and his stars every night for a decade and was farther than ever from answers even now that he was coming to accept the core truth of the problem’s existence.

 Of course, there was no trouble at the door; it was just Kyle, as expected, and he pet Buffy with one hand while waving at Michael with the other.

 “Hey, Guerin. How’s it going?”

 Michael marshalled himself to answer.

 “How do you think it’s going, Doc? A newborn deer’s got fancier footwork than me right now. But I’m alive, so…”

 “Can’t complain,” Kyle finished the sentence with an amused shake of his head. “That’s one way to look at it.”

 His exam was quick and efficient, something Michael was grateful enough for that he’d die before he ever let Valenti see it, and when he was done he took a seat across from Michael.

 “It’s not exactly a clean bill of health, but your condition seems stable and improving. The condition of your body, at least. It’s hard for me to give any diagnosis about what might be impacting the use of your powers.”

 “Yeah, yeah, wouldn’t expect you to. I’ll figure it out. You’ve done enough,” Michael said, scratching idly at his temple where Max’s handprint lay, thankfully hidden by his hair. “Tell me this, Doc.” He glanced around to make sure Max wasn’t in earshot, and when he spied him through a window throwing a ball for Buffy, he continued, “Have you had a chance to check out Max yet? The healing he did, with his heart—”

 Kyle smiled, and Michael glanced away from his knowing face, shifting in his seat.

 “I did, and you have nothing to worry about. He’s fine. It was a significant strain, but considering the alternative, the outcome could have been much worse.”

 “But what about his condition otherwise?” Michael powered through. “He’s been dealing with depression and exhaustion for months since—"

 The back door swung open and Buffy bounded in for her water bowl, Max following. “How’s it going?” he asked them both, but mostly Kyle, voice full of false cheer.

 “All good,” Kyle said easily, getting to his feet. “It’s going to be fine,” he tacked on the firm reassurance to Michael. “I should get going so I can get ready for work. Catch you later, Max.”

 “Thanks again, man.”

 “Free drinks at the Pony for life, you know my price.”

 As little as Michael cared to socialize with Valenti even now, awkward silence descended when he was gone and it was just the brothers again. What did you say to the guy who saved your life—again—when you had nothing but your own stupidity to blame?

 It didn’t help that Max’s ability to make Michael feel small and stupid and guilty as hell without even trying was still unparalleled, or that he was still too weak to pace it out, or that he was hyperaware of how everyone would perceive him if he sampled some of Alex’s liquor cabinet to take the edge off.

 “I’m going out to the back to get some light exercise,” he said eventually.

 “Okay,” Max said, not arguing or inviting himself along.

 “Thanks,” Michael replied, not elaborating on what for as he passed him at the fastest shuffle he could manage.

 Outside, under the sun, Michael’s head was no clearer, his muscles no stronger. Alex’s backyard was featureless, incomplete, clearly not somewhere he spent much time, unlike the front patio, which at least had some furniture, some lived-in rested energy. And, Michael thought, of course: Alex would spend his leisure somewhere he could anticipate most attempts to accost him.

 Letting out a heavy sigh, Michael ambled from one end of the fence to the other. As he went, Alex’s cameras followed him, and Michael tried not to feel weird about that, weirdly paranoid despite it being      Alex,    weirdly comforted to know Alex could watch him. The whole thing was weird. Living in Alex’s home was…weird.

 At night, Alex slept in his bed, and Michael slept in the guest room, but the sheets were Alex’s, the pillows were Alex’s, the walls and floor were built to hold him, he picked out the curtains. Alex was inescapable. And now, neither could Michael escape knowing that he still slept in old band shirts worn soft and peeling, that he composed music with his eyes closed and hid his written notations in books around his house, that he kept all his condiments room temperature and screwed up his nose at the thought of cold sauce on hot food. All these domestic details he’d lived and loved without, stuffed inside the empty spaces in his skull after only a few days.

 What was he supposed to do, knowing this? The little details made up friendships, too, for certainly Michael knew plenty of his siblings’ idiosyncrasies, even kept shelves in his heart for lovely little scraps old one or two-night lovers had left him as parting gifts.

 But things would never, ever be so simple and nostalgic and normal with Alex. Too many years had passed for Michael to even attempt to fool himself. His ribs sung like a tuning fork struck pure, and Michael longed, with the oldest, basest longing, to be anything so useful for Alex to set the music of his life to. And here he was, sharing Alex’s house with Alex and Alex’s boyfriend’s dog and Alex’s boyfriend’s toothbrush on the sink and Alex’s boyfriend’s clothes in the laundry.

 So he’d live with it.

 His pocket buzzed frantically, and he swore loudly, startled, before he realized it was just his phone ringing.

 “Fuckin’ spam calls,” he muttered as he fished it out. “Why the hell does anyone carry this shit around all the—”

 But it wasn’t a spam call at all.        Ortecho    sat dead center on the screen, and, not knowing what ring it was on, Michael answered immediately.

 “Mikey!” Liz’s breathless voice shouted before he could say a word.

 “Well it’s about damn—”

 “Thank god, are you okay, why am I hearing from Maria that you almost      died,    what the hell?”

 “Glad to know that’s what it takes to get a hold of you,” Michael snarked back.

 “Listen, I—”

 Michael just sighed. “I know. I get it. But we’ve been calling you a damn lot, Ortecho.”

 “…I know.”

 Despite what he said, he didn’t understand. He’d never understand the running, not as someone so stuck in the ground he’d been planted in that he’d die if he tried to rip himself away. But he couldn’t love Alex after ten years without accepting what he’d never understand and knowing how to survive it.

 He hadn’t thought, until now, that maybe he and Max could talk about this shit. But maybe it’d be worth a try. If there was one thing that Michael      did    know, it was that Liz and Alex wouldn’t talk about how the situations made them similar until they’d exhausted all possible escapes from that conversation.

 “Well…” Michael said into the silence. “How’s California been? How’s the Genoryx lab; they better be letting you do all the mad science shit, or else what good’s a shady government drug company…”

 “Don’t change the subject! You haven’t even answered me.      Are you okay?    ”

 “I…”

 What was the harm in being honest? Liz wasn’t even here, wasn’t even talking to anyone who wasn’t dying, so who would she tell? Maybe Maria, but Maria could read it from him like an open book.

 “Gotta tell you, I’ve been better,” he admitted.

 Liz let out a soft, sympathetic noise. “What happened? You can…you can talk to me, if you want. I know I haven’t been the most reliable, but we’re friends. We are. Okay?”

 Shaking his head, Michael paced the length of the fence again, one hand on it to steady himself.  He reached the house and kept walking to the front, leaving the barren back garden behind.

 “There’s not that much to say. Maria probably told you already. I made a bad gamble on Hyde, and Jekyll had to haul my ass out of the fire. That’s it.”

 That version of the story left out the part Isobel played, but Michael didn’t have the words to describe walking his own head as it melted around him, images flying past bright enough to sear his eyes, snatches of conversation, aphasia in every sense, and how empty and cavernous and      bereft    he felt now, knowing what Jones had stuffed inside him—the knowledge of his entire people—knowing he wasn’t      enough    to contain it, weak, corrupted, and now he might never get it back. And knowing Jones did that to him on purpose, gave him more than his body and mind could handle to make him feel this way, didn’t make the feeling it any damn easier.

 Liz went silent on the other end. There was a question she wasn’t asking, but Michael let it ride, gave her the space.

 But finally, he answered it for her. “Max is okay. His heart held up, and so did the pacemaker. And I’ve got a handprint six inches from my nose, so I can call him on it if he tries to bullshit me.”

 “I—okay. Thank you, Mikey.”

 “Don’t thank me. Seriously, don’t. I, uh, said a lot of shit I probably shouldn’t have in your voicemail, about Max. But it’s up to you if you want him in your life at all, so, uh. Yeah.”

 “No, no, it’s fine.”

 There was a thunk on the other line like she’d dropped or hit something.

 “Look, I should go,” she said.

 “Okay,” Michael replied.

 “I’m—really glad you’re okay.”

 “And, uh, it was nice to hear from you.”

 “Okay.” Her final reply was soft and hesitant and awkward as Michael felt making an earnest overture a friend might make. “Bye, Mikey.”

 “Don’t be a stranger.”

 She hung up.

 Michael dropped his arm and let his phone dangle at his side for a little while. His legs shook a little, so he held onto the back of one of the patio chairs to steady himself, but he wasn’t ready to sit just yet.

 Friends or not, clearly he and Liz had plenty to work on if they were that fucking awkward without a project between them.

 Still, this was something. Something unexpected. Michael was too tired to sort through feelings right now.

 But he should have—

 Before he could second guess himself, he pulled his phone back up and dashed a text off to her.

     We all get together on Thursday nights. Open invitation. -G  

 Then he dropped his phone face-down on the seat and sat down several feet away so he wouldn’t be tempted to look at it if she texted him back.

 All the chairs on Alex’s patio were tilted subtly to watch different angles of the approach to the house, so Michael settled in the one that was shadiest. It was too fucking hot to be relaxing outdoors without water or sunscreen, but the air indoors with Max hovering and Alex…everywhere…was just as stifling.

 Max hadn’t asked him why, yet, even though the question itched at Michael’s head, even through the careful distance they were keeping from the handprint bond between them. Which was good, because, in the sunlight, on the other side of the storm, his arms wrapped around his own stomach, holding himself, Michael couldn’t have answered it himself.

 Eventually, though, people would ask. And what would he tell them—should he admit he thought that the pollen would be enough to keep himself from harm, should he confess that he’d been willing—or thought he was willing—to accept the risks if it meant no one would have to take a blow for him?

 The street stretched long and quiet as far as Michael could see. Every now and then, a car would pass from one point on the line to the next, disappearing down some other driveway or just continuing until the heat haze swallowed it whole. The sun hurt his tired eyes, so he blinked slow, and let minutes trickle past, waiting for something to happen.

 Maybe his phone would ring again; maybe Max would come looking for him. Maybe Flint Manes would leap out of the bushes and shoot him. Maybe Alex would come home from work and smile when he saw him. Maybe Forrest would come home early and try and fight him for shacking up while he was gone. Maybe Jones did something to him that was lying in wait and would detonate his heart any second.

 Thinking of possibilities was an endless sort of entertainment for a man who never knew what to do with having a future and who just nearly lost his lease on it.

 As Michael watched the road, a truck appeared on one side of the horizon, moving faster than most would on a residential street like this. It whipped up dust as it went, and Michael rolled his eyes and slouched deeper into the chair. Fucking assholes in their screaming steel overcompensators almost universally considered themselves above getting work done in a junkyard, and that didn’t exactly give Michael a better opinion of them.

 And this piece of shit in particular, Michael recognized. What the hell was Wyatt fuckin’ Long doing on this side of town? Michael tensed as he roared by, just waiting for him to slow or stop—did he drive by often, harassing Alex for dating his cousin? Or looking for his cousin to harass somewhere off the farm where a real adult might stop him?

 He didn’t do either, though, and in seconds he was gone, cowgirl mudflaps dangling behind him.

 Asshole.

 What time was it anyway? Narrowing his eyes, Michael focused on his phone where he dropped it in the other chair and, slowly, tried to pull it toward him. It took seconds and enough strain his head hurt before it moved, but move it did, wobbling slowly towards him. Halfway there, it changed velocity and came shooting toward him, and he only barely managed to catch it before it overshot and slammed against the wall behind him.

 Still, progress.

 It was later than he thought. Shouldn’t Alex be home from work by now? Should he be worried?

 He was just hovering his thumb over Alex’s contact, deciding whether or not to call, when another car hissed along the drive and slowed. This one, though, turned into Alex’s driveway, and Michael relaxed.

 Alex pulled the car to a stop, and Michael stood up to greet him, stretching as he did. Unexpectedly, Maria was also in the front seat, but her presence answered the question of why Alex was late. If he wasn’t talking to Michael, at least he was talking to someone.

 “Hey,” Michael greeted them.

 “Hey, Guerin,” Maria replied.

 “Is everything alright?” Alex demanded.

 “Yeah, it’s fine. Kyle was by earlier. Seems like I’m still on the mend.”

 “That’s good to hear,” Maria said, as Alex said nothing.

 Michael gave her a smile. “Yeah, it is. So…are you staying for dinner? Maybe I can cook something…”

 Side-eying Alex, who stood as stiff and stoic as Michael had ever seen him, shoulders and back soldier-straight, Maria returned Michael’s smile and said, “Oh, Alex just asked me to take Buffy out for her walk for the next few days, so I’m here to see her.”

 “I didn’t want to impose on you for that,” Alex added.

 Michael rocked on his heels, hands shoved in his pockets, chewing on his tongue to hold back any indication of how desperate he was to be imposed upon. The weakness in his legs kept him from making a real argument; despite her age, Buffy was a hell of a walker.

 Was that the reason Alex was asking Maria to step in? Was his leg okay? Michael rocked forward again, swaying toward Alex and tugging himself back, an old, familiar dance.

 “You could’ve. You’re puttin’ me up, I oughtta work for room and board,” Michael joked.

 It didn’t exactly land. If possible, Alex shut down harder, face cold and hard, though his voice was soft.

 “You don’t have to work for me to take care of you when you’re in need,” he said, every syllable clipped and careful.

 Michael should have known something was up then and there, seen it, seen Maria’s downcast eyes and crossed arms, the way she hovered close between them and kept to herself; he should have expected it, Alex to pull some kind of bullshit, but his head didn’t go there. Not yet.

 “So…you going somewhere?” he asked, licking his lips. The thought might have sent a bolt of panic through him, but now that Alex had a life here, a house and a job and roots, the threat was less immediate.

     That didn’t stop Liz,    his mind whispered, but he shook it off.

 Alex wasn’t answering, so Michael continued, “You heading out to meet Forrest in DC? You should have gone with him in the first place, man, take some time off.”

 Maria shot Alex a loaded look, but Alex’s face just hardened.

 “And been across the country when you almost died on my doorstep?” he demanded so fervently Michael took a step back, and Alex closed his eyes, chest rising and falling with a deep breath. “Sorry. Sorry.”

 “No, uh, it’s fine. You’re right. I’m glad you were here.”

 Somewhere deep in his heart, Michael thought that it wouldn’t have mattered where in the universe Alex was when he lifted his foot and stepped across space to get to his door. His thoughts were inside out, tripled and rearranged with pieces missing, he couldn’t have said what he did or the powers he used or how he could do it again, but he could say this: for a brief moment, he’d possessed the ability to reorder the universe to put himself at Alex’s side, and no technicalities of time or distance would have stopped him.

 He didn’t have that power anymore, though, and neither did he have the ability to read Alex’s mind.

 “Seriously, though,      are    you going somewhere?” he asked again.

 “…I should get inside. My phone’s dead, I need to charge it,” Alex said.

 “      Alex,    ” Maria said in a scalded voice.

 Michael, though, was cold. Frozen. It barely registered when Maria reached out and squeezed his wrist to reassure him; he wasn’t reassured, though he was pathetically grateful to her for trying. She was a good friend—better now than she was or he was when they were two isolated points on a severed line, ten years as two stars on an unintelligible constellation, half its lights gone out.

 But that friendship, as cherished as it was—could it hold him up if the new foundation he’d built for his life was ripped away again? Again, he’d built it up around Alex without expectation or intention. It was reflexive, habitual, migratory. He followed a pattern etched into his bones. He didn’t know any other way to build.

 “Alex, I told you,” Maria said.

 “I know. But—”

 “No! No buts. If you can’t even be honest about what you’re doing, you shouldn’t be doing it.”

 “It’s fine,” Michael said. His voice was distant inside his own skull. “I get it. You don’t have to tell—you don’t owe me anything.”

 For some reason, Alex turned back around to face them, then, his face so openly wracked with pain and indecision that Michael had to close his eyes.

 Even less than he could stand to watch Alex walk away again, he couldn’t stand to watch it hurt so bad and him choose it all the same.

 “I’m      not    leaving you, Guerin. Michael. I’m—not. I’m not!”

 He said it again and again, like he was arguing with someone who wasn’t Michael or Maria, both of whom were silent. Maria pressed closer to Michael, leaning her weight against him, wordless but telling him:      I’m here.  

 “I’m not leaving,” Alex said again.

 Michael forced himself to open his eyes. A few feet in front of him, Alex took up the same amount of space he always did, posture helplessly perfect, hands helplessly flat at his sides.

 Through a tight throat, Michael said, “Okay. Then why…”

 Alex struggled for the words. At his side, Michael felt Maria breathe in and release a heavy sigh.

 “Talk to us, Alex. Please,” she said.

 Dropping his eyes, Alex replied, “I’m just going to be busy and out of the house a lot for the next few days and won’t have time to give Buffy the attention she deserves.”

 “Really? That’s it?” her voice was close to tears, and Michael unlocked himself to wrap his arm around her. She continued, “I asked you to      talk to us,    not just repeat what you told me before. What business, Alex? You’re scaring me.”

 “What am I supposed to do?” Alex cried, spreading his arms wide. Then he dropped his arms just as suddenly, head snapping back and forth looking for anyone who might have heard the outburst, then he dragged a hand over his face. He continued, quieter, flatter, “I get so wound up about one threat, and another one starts swinging from my blind side. I’m not waiting for Fields to come calling while Michael is here. And Jones—” That awful blankness crossed his face again. “—What am I supposed to do, let what he did to you go without doing something about it? Wait until he tries again? Absolutely not.”

 Every word stung Michael’s senses; he had no response, mouth parted but silent, eyes wide.

 Maria let out a frustrated growl. “And would you have told anyone these plans if I hadn’t forced you? Oh my god, of course not, you both suck so bad! What part of this one,” she jerked her thumb at Michael, “getting his gray matter pureed forty-eight hours ago makes you think now is the time to run off with some lone wolf Rambo act? What’s the point of being able to see the future if no one ever asks or listens?”

 “Did you? See something?” Michael asked.

 “Well. No. But I might have,” Maria replied.

 “Wait, nothing at all? It’s been how long now?”

 “Too long,” she admitted. “It’s not nothing, I just keep seeing our bearded friend standing in a field. I can’t even tell if it’s now or if it’s from before or even if it’s from the home planet. He doesn’t look at me, just…stands there.” She shivered.

 Alex’s eyebrows drew down. “Can he…block your sight? Is that possible?”

 Shrugging helplessly, Maria said, “I don’t know. But I’m pretty sure we can’t just ask him. What are we going to do?”

     We.    Part of Michael wanted to protest, in the face of the danger that alliance would pose to two of the people he loved most in the entire world. Standing alone already almost got him killed, left him weaker than he’d ever been, but still part of him would try again, and again, until he was out of second chances, if it meant sparing Alex and Maria anything.

 But that wasn’t in question, was it. They’d made their choice. It was time for Michael to learn to live with it.

 “Thursday’s coming up,” he said. Maria and Alex turned to look at him, and he lifted and dropped his shoulders, curling in on himself. “If you guys are still available. We can talk about a game plan.”

 “      Guerin,    ” Maria sighed. But she smiled when she reached out and gave his hand a squeeze. “Of course we’re available.”

 Alex didn’t reply. Silence fell between the three of them, until Maria sighed again and headed toward the front door.

 “I already came all this way, I might as well spend a little time with Buffy. Since I won’t be walking her after all.”

 As she passed Alex, he made a soft noise, and whatever it was, she understood perfectly, because she turned to meet Alex’s raising arms, and the two of them hugged tightly.

 “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “You were right. I’m sorry I didn’t--I shouldn’t have made you--”

 “Stop with the ‘shouldn’ts’,” Maria replied. “Just...don’t make us watch you destroy yourself alone when we’re here for you, okay?”

 Michael flinched. Neither of them looked at him, but her words hit home anyway. He was part of that grief, too.

 Alex nodded against her shoulder. “I won’t.”

 Then she gave him one last squeeze, he let her go, and she went inside, leaving Michael and Alex alone.

 And alone, what was there to say? They hadn’t found it so far.

 Michael’s heart still beat uncomfortably fast in his chest, a frantic effort to keep him standing and sane while his brain and body figured out that Alex wasn’t going to disappear from before his eyes, and it only pulsed harder when—he blinked to clear his eyes and—Alex got closer, closing the space between them in a few long, uneven strides.

 On instinct, Michael took a step back, but Alex stopped six inches away, just staring at him with his dark eyes. They scanned from his feet to his hair, taking in every minute tremble of his damaged muscles.

 Jittery, Michael licked his lips and said, “Take a picture, it’ll last longer--”

 Alex took Michael’s shirt in his fist and pulled him in. They hit, chest to chest, Alex’s arm trapped between them until he pulled it away, down and out, clamped it around Michael’s back and held on, held on for dear life. He didn’t need to hold on so tight; Michael froze with the shock of Alex around him and couldn’t have budged for love or money, not until his mind caught up with his body and he slumped in Alex’s safe arms.

 “I’m so mad at you,” Alex said in his ear, close enough that his hitching breaths stirred Michael’s ear.

 “I know. I know,” Michael spoke back, lips moving against his shoulder. He let his eyes fall shut again. Like this, he didn’t need them, dropped every sense that wasn’t touch, anything that didn’t tell him the only thing he needed to know. Alex was here. Michael was here. They were alive. They were together.

 “How could you? What did I do wrong?” His breathing hitched harder, enough for Michael to feel it in Alex’s entire body.

 Gripping him tighter, one arm around his lower back, one arm around his broad shoulders, Michael murmured, “Nothing, God, nothing. I was stupid. I just wanted—I just had to—”

 “I wanted to protect you. That’s all I wanted—did I push too hard?” Hot, wet heat hit Michael’s neck. “I’m so shit at this, Michael, every time I try, I just make everything worse!”

 “No! No, hey, hey.”

 They were too tightly entwined for Michael to do much, but he maneuvered them enough to press their foreheads together.

 “I just wanted to protect      you,    ” Michael rasped. If he looked at Alex this second, this close, he wouldn’t be able to stand it, so he squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t know how to—be protected. You making that sacrifice for me, I don’t know how to be worth it. It’s not your fault.”

 “You don’t have to do anything. Ever. I’m so fucking—sorry, for all the times I made you feel like you had to—earn...”

 They swayed slightly back and forth, half because Michael had pushed himself too far on his weak legs, half because it was an old self-soothing motion one or both of them fell back on, completely alone in the universe as children. They did it together, now.

 “We’ll figure it out,” Michael swore, clasping Alex’s sweaty hand in his own sweaty hand, in the nonspace between their chests, knuckle to sternum, palm to palm, sternum to knuckle. The words tasted like hope on his tongue.

 They opened their eyes, Alex first, then Michael, and they stood like that for a long time. Alex’s eyes were red from crying, but beautiful. Always beautiful.

     We’ll figure it out.    Neither of them believed it fully, but if both of them held a half, maybe they’d manage to make it work.

 “We should get back inside,” Michael said eventually, dropping Alex’s hand, stiffening his own to keep the shape of it held to his side as they parted.

 “Actually, could we, um.” Alex cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe we could sit out here a while longer. It’s a nice sunset? And maybe we could catch up on normal stuff.”

 Michael looked over his shoulder at the sky. It really was stunning, broad beyond comprehension, all alien with pinks and purples and golds.

 “Normal stuff sounds great,” he said. “Let’s do it.”

#malex fic #malex #michael guerin #alex manes #my fic #roswell new mexico

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Drifters ch.9 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Enter the Other Brother. Blue, welcome home! You might be in for a surprise!

Tags: Spicyhoney, Violence, Rescued Child, Medical Experimentation, Babybones

Read it on AO3

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Read it here!

~~*~~

Edge was not a Monster who cared very much for surprises. In his experience, they never led to anything good, not to birthday parties or unexpected gifts, but rather ambushes and dust. He preferred careful planning to the seat-of-the-pants schemes that his brother often came up with, every step made with strategy in mind.

He couldn’t say for certain if Blue was the same way, although he suspected he may be. His understanding of how the alternate worlds worked was more for the layman rather than the professional, but he wasn’t blind to the personality traits that he and Blue shared, the sort of twist in nature vs nurture that any sociologist would love to explore.

He had a fair idea of how he might react to finding this clown car of a domestic scene in his own living room and if he’d known that Stretch hadn’t even mentioned he and Red were here, much less the baby, he would have at least sent Blue a blasted text.

That might have at least braced him and given him a chance to come up with a better question than simply, “Is that a baby?”

His brother, ever the peacemaker, chose that precise to speak up, scoffingly, “sure can tell you two are brothers, ya share the same brain cell, your bro said the same damn thing. yeah, it’s a baby, good on you for noticin’.”

“blue!” Stretch scrambled upright and his bright grin was too wide, too wrong, tinged with poorly hidden guilt. “sorry, bro, i was gonna call and it slipped my mind. yeah, hey, everyone showed up on our doorstep yesterday. check out the snow princess, cute, huh?”

That much at least was the truth, but Blue didn’t seem to have heard a word of it. This wasn’t quite the reaction Edge had been braced for; he’d expected Blue to make a beeline for the baby, had been resigned to handing her over for plenty of excited cuddling and cooing.

This was something else entirely. The normal stars of his eye lights were overly bright, flashing between blue and yellow with seizure inducing intensity, set into a face that was like stone. He barely glanced at the rest of them past a brief, bizarrely sympathetic glance at Edge. The anger in his gaze was for his brother alone.

Stretch seemed equally confused, his oversized smile faltering, “bro?”

“How could you?” Blue said, his voice carrying despite its deadly softness.

“wha…me?” Stretch looked around the room as if perhaps another person had appeared, that it was to this stranger his brother spoke that way. He shrank back as Blue abruptly moved, slamming the door shut as he stalked over to the sofa, his small body radiating fury.

“How could you!?” Again, louder this time, not quite a shout but verging on one.

“coulda woulda shoulda? bro, what the hell—”

Blue ignored that, stamping his foot and sending out a spatter of rapidly melting snow from his boot to dampen the carpet. “Irresponsible!”

Stretch’s face was falling, going oddly blank, his false humor fading. Next to him, Red looked equally perturbed. “now hang on a sec, short stuff, ain’t no reason to go off on the honey bun.”

“Stay out of this!” Blue snapped and for a wonder, Red jerked back, his mouth snapping shut. His eye lights briefly guttered, leaving his sockets dark and black, returning only when Stretch spoke up next to him.

“yeah. stay out of this,” Stretch agreed, softer but no less sharp and from the look he shot Edge, he was included in that statement.

Edge said nothing and even the child was silent, a dab of runny banana sliding down her chin as she stared at the Swap brothers with wide sockets. Even if he’d wanted to intrude, this argument was between brothers and it was an unspoken rule through all the ‘verses that one did not interfere with brothers.

Despite the surface similarities, none of their relationships were exactly the same. Edge knew all too well that if he railed at Red over his laziness, his brother never took it to heart or soul. He let Edge rant, blowing off the steam that built within him throughout the day and his frustrated insults rolled off Red like water off the proverbial duck. The only fallout tended to be yet another sticky note added to the continuing line trailing away from a single, absurd sock.

Stretch was, well, lacking waterproofing. More like Edge in that way, truth be told, and if Edge could snipe at his brother all day long for his ridiculous puns and lazy ways, one genuine return jab from Red often left him deeply wounded, all the more painful for its unerring accuracy and rarity.

He wondered how he’d handle being under the weight of that much visible disappointment. Edge almost always agreed with Blue’s assessments of his brother’s behavior, but his delivery needed work and the unexpected impulse to protect Stretch from that disappointment took him off guard. He wanted to scoop Stretch up like he did the baby, hold him close, cradle him in his arms and protect him, and that was ridiculous, utterly; he was an adult, older than Edge, and yet the urge remained.

In the end, Edge could only look away, stirring the gloopy remains of the banana while the two brothers whispered furiously behind him.

“Of all the careless, irresponsible—” Blue took a deep breath, let it out, muttering out, “This is all right, this is fine. We can deal with this.” He scrubbed his gloved hands over his face and then squared his shoulders as he said, “You still should have called me.”

“probably,” Stretch agreed, and perhaps the unexpected storm had passed. He relaxed back into the sofa, the tension in the room easing. “didn’t want to interrupt your important training.” He flashed Edge a sharp glance and he tried to look as if that was the exact reasoning.

“Yes, well, that’s true,” Blue admitted. “And I appreciate you thinking of that, but next time…well, there probably won’t be a next time of this, I should hope.” Any lingering worry that Blue might object to them staying for a time vanished as Blue finally swung back to the baby, this time with a familiar, bright smile on his face as he gushed out, “Which is a shame because she is simply adorable!”

He rounded the coffee table with the haste Edge originally expected, grabby hands extended, and the moment Blue bent down to reach for her, the baby burst into sobbing howls, squirming away.

Automatically, Edge swung her up, settling her against his shoulder and patting her back gently as he soothed her with a bewildered, “There, there, it’s all right. What’s wrong?”

Blue looked as if he might burst into tears himself, stumbling back a step and his eye lights faded from stars to unhappy circles. “I didn’t mean to—"

They both turned to look at Red as he let out a harsh laugh. “what’s wrong? he scared the shit out of her coming in like that, that’s what’s wrong,” Red snorted contemptuously, “don’t you know nothin’ bout babies? you’re almost as bad as my bro.”

“Not really,” Blue admitted. Shame filled his expression as he shuffled his feet. He noticed he was still wearing his boots and sat on the floor to pull them off, carrying them over to the door and automatically straightening the other shoes before adding his. “Most of my experience with children has been seeing them from a distance.”

That gave Edge a start and he realized he’d been expecting Blue to have some sort of knowledge about childcare, though he wasn’t sure why. This world was softer and tended towards kindness, but that hardly meant it gave them any innate parenting skills.

“Well!” Blue straightened, propping his hands on his hips. “I’m sure that the Magnificent Sans can learn!”

“sure you can, bro,” Stretch said, cautiously, and that Edge could understand, being very familiar with Blue’s brand of determination.

“yeah, well, here’s your first lesson,” Red slouched back on the sofa, picking at his gold tooth with a sharpened fingertip. “babies don’t like it when ya shout.”

“yep, that’s a good place to start. you know what, i’m gonna get everyone some coffee,” Stretch announced and fled to the kitchen, the coward.

Blue paid that no mind, already came back over determinedly when he spied the bowl Edge had hastily shoved on the table. The child was watching him warily as Blue picked it up, taking hold of the little spoon. “Here, let me help!”

Before Edge could stop him, Blue tried to poke the filled spoon into her mouth. The child refused to part her teeth, leaving a smear of mushy banana across them, and Blue’s brief confidence sagged, “Oh. Um. Maybe she’s not hungry?”

“Maybe.” Edge took the bowl back and immediately she began bouncing eagerly in his lap, mouth opening wide as she made urgent little sounds.

“fuck, you two are morons,” Red snorted, because of course he would stay to bear witness. “she don’t know you. kid is small, she ain’t blind. she ain’t gonna take her banana goop from just any plain asshole, she likes an asshole she knows.”

“Yes, thank you for clarifying that for us all, brother,” Edge said sourly. Somewhat gentler, he said to Blue, “Sit with me. Let her see you, it may make her more comfortable.”

“yeah, hold out a hand and let her sniff ya, that’ll do it,” Red chuckled meanly as Stretch came back out with a tray of mugs. He set it down before smacking Red on the back of the skull.

“will you cool it on the running commentary? let them work it out.”

Red rubbed his head and scowled, but he accepted the coffee cup when Stretch handed him one. “just callin’ it how i see it.”

“yeah, well, if they give up on trying, that leaves you as mary poppins, smartass.”

“good point. my teeth are sealed.”

The child grudgingly allowed Edge to settle her back on the pillows with the unspoken promise of more food. She watched Blue warily the entire time she was eating, but he made no move towards her. He sat obediently still the entire time, his gloved hands clasped tightly together in his lap as if to stave off any impulse to scoop the baby up. If nothing else, her attention on Blue kept her from messily sharing any more of her banana.

When the bowl was scraped clean, Edge wiped the child’s chubby face clean with a damp cloth then settled her back into his lap. “You see, little one?” he told her softly, “Blue is a friend.”

“I am! I really am! Want to come here?” Blue slowly held out his hands without getting too close, waiting with impressive patience. The baby looked from him to Edge, and he tried to look encouraging.

Slowly, she held up her arms to Blue. He lifted her a little awkwardly, but managed to get her settled into the curve of his arm without intervention.

“There we go!” To Edge’s relief, Blue kept his enthusiasm at a minimum, though he practically vibrated with excitement. Almost immediately, the baby began to loudly babble and if he didn’t know better, Edge would say she was scolding Blue for his part in the earlier brotherly dispute.

Soon enough, her chattering dwindled to murmurs, her sockets growing heavy, then closing entirely as she slept. Edge let Blue keep holding her as he gratefully took up his own cup of coffee and never had caffeination been so delicious.

Blue only looked at her in awe, lightly touching each of her tiny, perfect fingers. “She’s beautiful,” he whispered, turning the full force of his starry eye lights onto his brother, “but honestly, Papy, you should have told me you two were expecting a child!”

Stretch choked, spilling coffee down the front of his shirt. “wait, what? that’s why you were so pissed off?”

“I would have thought you would be more cautious about that sort of thing, but I suppose it hardly matters now,” Blue said philosophically. “You still should have called me though when she arrived!”

“but we didn’t…!”

“Here we have a new baby, and I wasn’t even able to give her a baby shower!”

“She’s already had a bath,” Edge said, confused. This was going entirely too fast and he was not in top form, how could they possibly have been expecting her, there was nothing about the past two days that Edge had expected in the slightest.

Rescue came from an unexpected and wholly unwanted source.

“fuck’s sake, blueberry, she ain’t their kid!” Red snapped.

“Don’t swear,” Edge and Blue said, nearly in unison. Then Edge nearly choked on his own coffee as realization clicked with the force of an open-handed slap. Blue thought that the baby was his, not simply his responsibility but his own and Stretch’s. Suddenly his earlier sympathetic look made more sense, by Asgore’s horns, of all things he could believe…!

“She’s not?” Blue asked, confused. “But, then where did she come from?”

“where the fuck do you think, numbnuts?” Whatever the patience Red usually had for Blue seemed to have found its limit. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, all but slamming his mug down on the coffee table, “she wasn’t flown in by the stork, kid was homegrown just like the rest of us and she’s got the fucking serial number to prove it!”

“Oh.” There was a wealth of meaning in that single, soft word, too many to properly interpret. Blue looked down at the baby sleeping in his arms, his fingertips hovering over her rib cage without touching, right over where her pajamas hid the healing scar. The same scar his brother and Red still had, faded and blurred, but still there. Then he wordlessly handed her to Edge, climbing to his feet and walked determinedly over to his brother.

Stretch only watched warily, allowing Blue to take away his half-empty coffee cup to shove it on table, ignoring the splash of coffee that slopped out and spread across the wood. He slid his small, strong arms around him, holding onto his brother tightly.

“I’m so sorry,” Blue said simply. The words were muffled, buried into Stretch’s coffee-stained hoodie. “I shouldn’t have been so upset with you and I certainly should have let you explain.”

“aw, bro, it’s okay—” Stretch hugged him back, resting his cheekbone on top of Blue’s skull.

“It’s not,” Blue said, the words tainted with the hint of a sob. “I assumed you were being irresponsible, and I shouldn’t have.”

“not like i don’t give you a reason for that.”

“There’s a difference between a messy room and, well, this.” They stayed there a moment longer, holding on tight, and when Blue drew away, he swiped a hasty sleeve over his damp sockets. “Now!” Blue clapped his hands together softly. “I think we should discuss living arrangements.”

“We can,” Edge said, quietly firm, “but I hardly think that will be necessary. We won’t be here for long.”

The sudden trio of protests was loud enough to wake the baby and Edge turned away, bouncing her in his arms as he tried to soothe her back to sleep. He’d known there would be objections, but he couldn’t allow them to sway him. This child was his responsibility, his choice, and his alone.

He had a duty to her and Edge was determined to see it done.

TBC

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #drifters

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

Finding Hugo: Hugo x Male!Reader

*Requested by @jiejie-eonni-onee-sama @owba-chan @war-obsessed @inglourious-imagines @tammykelly @struggling-bee @frozenhuntress67 @kwyloz @sodapop182 @marlenemarauders @what-the--curtains @taikawho @spookybearlandtaco  Let me know if you wanna be added to the IB or OUATIH taglists! :)

____________ ***Winter-1943***

You had been on the run for a year or so, ever since they took Hugo from you. Actually....it wasn't so simple. Hugo had been arrested, of course, for what made him infamous all over the western front: Killing 13 Gestapo officers. But that was just it... He'd only killed half of them. You killed the other half. You were a team, partners in crime. He loved you, and you had no doubts about it. The only problem was that he'd protect you even if it cost him his life. And that's what happened. He took a bullet for you, really. Literally, and figuratively. He took the blame for all 13 kills, and made sure you got away safely  by taking a bullet that was meant for you. By the time you realized he wasn't behind you, it was too late. But  ever since you heard he broke out of prison, you'd been looking for him. You were on the run, crossing Europe, trying to find him. You still had Hugo's knife with you. You never stopped using it. You had to if you were going to survive long enough to find him. Now, you had crossed over to Nazi-occupied France, losing your way, losing your head, and losing any remaining hope of finding Hugo.

***Meanwhile The basterds were carefully trudging through France, trying to get their shit together, really. It had been so long since they'd had a safe place to stay, running hot water, food other than stale sandwiches, which worst of all, were made by Aldo, who was a major fan of mayonaise. Which half the baterds hated. "And on top of that, it's fucking snowing!" Omar shivered, crossing his arms, clutching onto his thin sweater tightly, and clenching his teeth. "It's a...dusting." Donny looked up at the snow, which was now falling even more heavily. "We're also out of ammo. And...we've probably been spotted by way too many patrols by now. And-" Smitty tended to get more nervous the more he explained things, so Aldo cut him off, "Alright. So we're in a tight place. We been in hell, son. We'll damn sure be alright." As the sky dimmed, and the snow kept falling, they went up a steep, isolated slope in the countryside. Well, it seemed isolated. Until they saw a figure bounding down the hill. Aldo stretched out his arm, signaling the boys the stand down, in case it was just a civilian "Steady..." But in case it wasn't, each of them gripped a knife hidden in a pocket. Donny held on to his bat, of course. Hugo...well... His eyes went wide, and he couldn't believe them. "Y/n..." You froze. You were paranoid. You thought you'd been caught. But before you reached for your luger, you realized you knew that voice. It had been a lifetime since you heard him say your name.... But there it was, like a dream all over again. "Hugo!" You ran to him, wrapping your arms so tightly around him to convince yourself it wasn't a dream, that  it was real this time. He buried his face in your shoulder, his hand pressed against the back of your head as he tried to convince himself that it really was you. He took a deep breath, perhaps the only time he'd been able to really breathe since he last saw you. "Y/n..." You were frozen in time, until...well, you remember you were in France. "Now, this is touchin' n' all, but we got some real trouble, Hugo. You 'n your friend can catch up on our way to...anywhere but here, sergeant." Aldo chuckled, but signaled everyone to follow his lead to 'anywhere but here.' "Fuck a duck," Donny muttered. "We lost, lieutenant?" "We ain't lost if we don't know where we're goin, son." Aldo sighed, tired, wondering if they'd make it to the end of the week without any ammo, or clue of what to do. Wicki looked around, recognizing they were near the edge of France, not too far from Switzerland. "Gstaad." Hirschberg snorted, and laughed "We ain't takin' a vaction now, Wicki!" Wicki rolled his eyes, quickly explaining as he pushed ahead, up the slope, now taking lead "No. I know a place." "You know a place in Gstaad?" "My sister and her husband are MI6 agents. They run a small place in Gstaad, and help agents. If we can make it into Switzerland, we can make it there." Aldo stopped, "Well, that's one hell of a gamble." Hugo, for a moment, left your side. "What choice do we have?" Donny nodded, as he took a bite his last share of sandwiches. "He's got a point." And so, you were off, back up the slope, through the countryside in the dead of night. As you walked up, Hugo's hand brushed against yours, and you glanced at him with a smile warm enough to help him forget the sharp winter night. "So tell us 'bout your friend," Aldo was a little ahead of you. "This is Y/n. He used to work with me." Wicki nudged Hugo, as he had a bit of an inkling about the way you and Hugo glanced at each other, "By work you mean..." "Those 13 Gestapo officers? Half of them were his work." Hugo chuckled, though his eyes lingered on yours, with a wistful, soft smile. Sleepless endless days of secrecy and a gamble of a train ride later, you were there. It was night again, maybe nine o clock.  It was a nice little town, with towering snowy slopes, and an endless sky sprinkled with bright stars. You glanced at Hugo, and he looked down at his feet, with a shy smile. Maybe it would be a nicer place to be if you weren't being hunted. You laughed softly to yourself. You all followed Wicki, who was going off of his memory of a picture he received in a letter just before being drafted. "Here." He stood outside of an inviting wooden lodge, orange lights filtering out of a few windows, and a slow stream of smoke flowing from the fireplaces. He opened the door, and the rest of you followed. There was a man at the desk in the lobby, looking through some records. A little girl, maybe thrree or four years old. Wicki only recognized them from photographs. The man didn't look up. "Juste une minute, monsieur." "Just a minute, sir." He put the pen down and looked up. "Wilhelm?" He'd never had the honor of meeting his brother in law, but now was a good time as any. He turned back, calling "Eva!" Eva walked in, surprised to see her brother. Normally, only people with reservations were let in. And...the only ones who could make reservations were agents and spies working for the allies. Still, there was room for an exception. Especially this one. Still, Wicki's surprise family reunion was not the most eventful part of the night. Once the basterds ate, had a drink or two, showered, and were split into rooms, Aldo got down to business, poking around, speaking to a few agents who could hook the basterds up with some well needed and deserved guns and ammo. Wicki, of course, spent as much time as he could with his family. So he stayed in the room. His sister and brother-in-law, being MI6 agents, had some information to help the basterds. Wicki and Aldo started working on a plan and path back to France. Donny joined them soon after. Being the sergeant meant he had to be informed. The rest of the basterds rested up in their rooms. Still, this was Gstaad. When else would these boys have the chance to be in a place like this? They were surrounded by agents from all the allies, making this both the safest, and most dangerous place to be. But you and Hugo...it had been so long... Exploring the town  with the younger basterds sounded fun, but there were things more important to you. To both of you. You sat on the edge of Hugo's bed. He had never been a man of many words. But he never let you forget how much he loved you. Tonight was no different. He kissed you, trying to make up for all the lost time all at once. You'd showered and eaten, and warmed up a little. But that didn't erase the worries and questions in Hugo's restless mind. It also didn't erase the fact that you were covered in blood (both yours, and not yours) when you found him. "Wo warst du?" "Where've you been?" "I've just been looking for you," You paused, and smirked a little, "Mostly." You handed his knife back over to him. He sighed, smiling softly, resting his hand againast your cheek. He shook his head. He wanted you to keep it. "You found me." "I did," You smiled, annd kissed him again. "HEY HIRSCHBERG LET'S GO!" The door suddenly swung open, and both Omar and Utivich stumbled in, laughing, expecting to find Hirschberg. Hugo's eyes shot open, "GET OUT." "W....SORRY!" Omar and Utivich quickly shuffled out of the room blushing, but...that wasn't enough. Hugo glared at them with the knife in hand.   "Hugo," You put your hand on his shoulder trying to calm him down,  and he sighed. The boys looked terrified. You slipped your hand into his, though you were also scared.  "They said they were sorry, now-"

Hirschberg walked down the hall, pulling on his jacket, "ALRIGHT GODDAMNIT, WH-....what's uh..." He peeked through the door, "OH NICE!" Hugo was fuming, "GO AWAY." Now, the rest of the basterds rushed in, having heard the commotion, they thought there was trouble. Donny peered over the basterd's heads, "WHAT'S GOIN' ON?!" He saw you and Hugo and shrugged, "Aw fuck a duck." He took a breath and lowered his bat. "You uh...you three needa learn how to knock." He'd unfortunately had a similar run in. Hirschberg and Smitty had walked in on him and a...lady of the night...back in Paris once. They really needed to learn how to knock. Wicki stood there, and chuckled "Already, huh?" Hugo had told him about you, once.... Well...he mentioned you. But the way he said your name was enough to tip Wicki off about what was going on between you. He muttered through clenched teeth and impatient glares, "Gehen. Weg." 'Go. Away.' Aldo cleared his throat, "Alright, alright, everyone get the hell out." The basterds did as they were told, and just as Aldo closed the door, he peeked in "Hugo?" "What?" Normally, he was a little more formal, especially around his lieutenant. But right now...he was a little eager to be alone with you. "Way to go, boy." Aldo smirked and shut the door, and Hugo scowled. Still, he sighed, sitting down by you. He knew the basterds meant well. That was your very first night as a basterd. It was quite a welcome, but you wouldn't have had it any other way. The boys would become like your brothers, and Hugo remained your everything. That first, slightly embarrassing, night was something you all looked back on fondly and had a laugh about later. But to you and Hugo, it was just one page in a story of your own. Now that you'd found him, you were sure it would never end.

#hugo stiglitz #hugo stiglitz imagine #hugo stiglitz x reader #Inglourious Basterds #donny-donowitz #aldo raine #gerold hirschberg #Hirschberg #Wicki #smithson utivich

[echo-three-one]

Whatever It Takes

Sequel to A Forgotten Memory

Now facing an internal battle between her heart and mind, Samantha faces her fears and searches for the truth. Will she accept the past? Will she listen to her heart? Or will she let her memories get the best of her?

Chapter 10 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

Previous Chapter : Roach - A SurPRICE Visit

What is this o.O

The Heart knows what the Brain Doesn't

Samantha Coleman

141's High Value Individual

Task Force 141 Base - General Shepherd's Office

The base was quiet. Everyone else fled off to their mission and all Samantha could think about is Alex. But why? Maxine told her he wanted to meet him, but Alex told her it's because she dropped her pendant. Whose story is she going to believe in? She could feel her heart beat differently ever since she saw him with General Shepherd. Her whole body except for her brain reacted to his presence. She even felt weak after slapping him, it's like her brain commanded it but her hands wanted to disobey. Who is he?

Maxine passed by with an apple she got from the kitchen counter.

"Sam, you okay?" she asked, biting the fruit and sitting in the chair across from her.

"I've been thinking… about how you knew Alex and how she knows me…" she sighed, it was relieving to let out all her bottled thoughts, especially that now they're both alone.

"Well, we met in a bar. Had a few drinks then showed me a photo of you." she said, holding her hand.

"I honestly believed he did know you and tried to lengthen the conversation, just so I know he's good enough and knows a lot. He actually aced the test but he was very drunk when I told her to meet again. After that He showed up the next day and I had to work. Whatever happened after my shift was- ow." she interrupted herself because of a minor pain from recalling her memories. She still hasn't been able to remember all of them, even after a lot of sleep.

"Yeah. That's about it on your side. Mine's just that… He looked creepy, his eyes felt like he was looking for me in a weird way and so I ran. After that life continued. You went on a leave and I resumed working." She supplied, staring at the grey walls of the mess hall.

"I wish I'd remember where I went on that vacation. It'd be cool." Max commented, crunching on another bite.

"My heart… beats differently when he's near. It's like he's really familiar." She whispered.

"Oh. Someone's been struck by the Cupid. He is attractive though. Without those ink, he'd probably be your type." Max teased, winking at her and nudging her. Samantha was serious, though.

"Look. I admit my heart feels something for him. It's a mix of guilt and longing. But why would I long for someone I just met?" She sighed and dropped her head on the table, groaning as her mind and her heart battled against the inconsistencies.

"Look. It's not too crowded here. Maybe we could do some research by their library!" Max suggested, creating finger guns and humming the Mission Impossible theme song as she stood up and went to the library. Samantha chuckled.

"So we're spies now?!" She placed a hand on her forehead as she followed her wacky best friend.

Maxine typed down Alex on the search bar, his public profile appeared and they began reading his file. It was all basic ideas, Nationality, Height, his name was redacted and they couldn't bypass it so they just ignored it and headed to the next term.

"CIA Agent Alex helped locate and detain CIA Mole." Samantha read with her mouth. Maxine quickly clicked the article and photos of her appeared on almost every page.

Unlike Maxine, these notes didn't hurt her mind except it hurt her heart that she treated him that way, after all this time. He was there to save her. He located you through Maxine to save you from the same captors that played with your brain months ago.

"Ooooh. It says here you two were safely housed in a remote safehouse for almost a month. Really Sam? Maybe something happened within that time? Can you please remember how he looked underneath those clothes. For me?" she giggled. Samantha knew she was joking but it was an honest possibility.

Could it be that she fell for the guy that saved her and sat with her for almost a month? Or the two of them fell in love? Her heart was racing as the possibilities overloaded her brain, her cheeks started to blush as her thoughts consumed her. This wasn't her mind talking to her, it was her heart. It's reminding her of Alex.

"Oh. Shit." Maxine muttered and Sam snapped back to reality, putting her hand on Max's shoulders and looked into the screen once again.

Due to a special favor promised by Samantha's father, he has authorized to apply an MK Ultra procedure to her, whose main intention is to Alter her memories of the IP Address along with the events that happened prior to kidnapping.

"You agreed to forget him?" Max looked at her, a frown formed as she started to console her.

"I guess so… Maybe something happened between us." She sobbed. She didn't want to cry, but the realization set in on her. They met, they bonded and she forced herself to forget him. No wonder Alex felt sad after being slapped.

"I want to ask him about us." Sam said with determination. Maxine liked the confidence but was also concerned about her feelings.

"What if you wanted to forget him, that's why you did it? Would you be ready to feel the sadness all over again?" Maxine asked. Samantha paused for a while. She made sense but her gut is telling her to push through her initial plan.

"I'm sorry Max, but I made my choice. I have to know everything about us, Whatever it Takes." she said.

"I'm here to support you. After all, you're the only memory I have left. They took everything. I don't know why but my memory began when I moved in. That's where my story started. Maybe there's a reason for it so, here I am for you. You're my family." she said, hugging her tight.

"Well, you could add a few more people in your family." she smiled.

"Yeah. It's full of tough looking brothers ready to protect us. And one soft Gary." she noted.

"He is a sweetheart, huh?" Samantha asked, getting a hint of something else from her.

"Well, he talks a lot and he gets me sometimes. It's a shame he's always out there saving the world." Max chuckled. Samantha froze.

"I know you want this to work..."

"This is our proposed digital art for our ad…"

"... and I know in my heart that I do too…"

"The colors need to be more vibrant!"

"...but I can't live loving you with worry in my heart..."

"I'm staying a little bit longer, See you tomorrow!"

"... and I don't want to be the reason that you'll stop saving the world. I know you want that. It's your job to. It's what you built your whole life to become..."

Her head started projecting two realities, it confused her. Which was right and which was wrong? She knew the work one was right, but the memories she just made right now while crying in front of Alex made more sense. Which was real? Which was fake?

"Sam! You okay?" Maxine snapped her fingers and Samantha blinked rapidly.

"I'm going crazy Max." she panted.

"What's wrong?" she consoled.

"My memories. They're all wrong. Why did I agree to this?" Samantha continued breathing heavily.

"Well, for starters. It's to forget that IP Address you memorized as a kid."

"But why did they change the recent ones too? Did I decide that my time spent with Alex is worth forgetting? Did he break my heart or did I break his?" She sighed. She knew for herself that she was unable to love again because of her loss, but what if Alex made it right for her? Alex did something that helped her move on? That's why her heart felt yearning for him?

"Sam. I'm no love doctor but if this really bothers you, you should talk to him. I have no idea when they'll get back but I'm looking forward to your resolution." She patted her shoulders and gave her a soft hug. Samantha felt like crying, but why?

~

After a while, Samantha actually had the courage to ask about Alex's whereabouts. Word has it that he's being redeployed to Germany to investigate another alleged Augustus base and that they had no idea when he'll be back.

This worries Samantha because they already heard about a transfer of authority, which in simple words meant : You're leaving the base. And that meant she won't see Alex anymore.

Maxine and Samantha sat on their beds at the infirmary to recover once again, both of them fell quiet as the news they got started to bother them. They already got attached to the people in the base and were sure that they're going to miss them. All they could do is hope that the team gets home before they leave the base.

“You think Alex will be okay?” Samantha shifted her sleeping position to Maxine, who was still awake humming to soothing melodies. Maxine shifted to face her too and smiled.

“You’re worried.” She teased, making her smile and giggle.

“Well, my heart told me I have to worry…”

“That’s normal. And don’t you worry ‘bout a thing… He’s a tough guy, remember? He’s trained to survive such harsh conditions. That’s what his file said, right?” She reminded Samantha, giving her an assuring smile. Samantha shrugged off her worry and closed her eyes. She started to imagine what it felt like being with him, based on information from his file. She can’t help but smile at her crazy idea. She felt like a teenager all over again, obsessing herself on fictional characters she watched on TV, since she could only base his personality on words alone. But she did remember how his cheeks felt, from the slap, and placed her palm on her cheek as well. It felt like he was with her and her heart felt excited as she awaited for his return.

Next Chapter : The Berlin Tower

NOTIFICATION SQUAD MY BELOVED ❤️

@smokeywhalee @enderio @samatedeansbroccoli @whimsywispsblog @beemybee @ricinbach

#omg the picture I'm Sorry I tried #codmwfic #whateverittakes #alex echo 3 1 #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #gary roach sanderson

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Flashback Friday || Morgan & Luis

TIMING: Distant past, in the days of yee-haw

LOCATION: The Magick Cauldron, Houston, Texas

PARTIES: @ontheluis & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Luis wanders into a magic shop looking for some herbs, Morgan spies an opportunity, and the cards know more than either of them reckon. 

CONTAINS: Mellow yee-haw vibes

“Welcome, traveler, to the Magick Cauldron! Browse at your pleasure and inquire if you have any questions!” Morgan had given the scripted greeting so many times, it came out of her in full customer service cheer every time the shop door opened. She didn’t even look up from the book she had open under the cash register anymore, but flipped another page and let the customers let her know if there was something worth talking about by shouting ‘lady!’ or coming into her peripheral view.

The Magick Cauldron was the only occult shop still standing West Houston after the Y2K stress fads had died away and the first bout of shiny, corporate development had found its way into Montrose and bulldozed a crystal shop, a Greek deli, and one of the few ladies-only gay bars in favor of a mixed use building that so far only housed a nail salon and a Jamba Juice. Ralf, the fine proprietor of the Cauldron as he called himself, said that this space was protected. As the door chimed open again and Morgan made her welcome speech, bright and shiny as the plastic plate armor hanging in the kid’s section, she wondered if he was right. She never seemed to serve more than a dozen or so customers during her shifts, but the lights stayed on, day after sweltering day. If Ralf was right, it might just be the one piece of real magic in the place, not that she could say that to anyone’s face.

The warped outline of a boy rippled over the glass counter and Morgan blinked up from her book. “Is there something I can help you with, weary traveler?” She asked wryly.

“Sorry ma’am,” Luis assured, “didn’t mean to bring the stray in here,”

Evening had fallen outside, heat from the blistering still wafting off the pavement. Telephone poles and streetlights were thin black columns that stood stark against the blazing orange and wane blues of sunset.  

“Go on, git!”

At the Magick Cauldron’s threshold was an enormous black dog. Even while quietly sitting on its haunches the shaggy canine was easily as tall as the teenage boy snapped at it. Pupiless red eyes regarded Luis impassively, only an ear twitch showing that the dog wasn’t just a statue.

When the black dog gave no indication of actually entering the store nor stopping its scrutiny of Luis, the young man cut his losses and regarded the woman at the counter again.

“Here,” Luis reached into a pocket of his jeans and withdrew a crumpled piece of paper, smoothing it on the counter. The names of herbs and powders were written in someone else’s prime neat handwriting. “I uh don’t know what any of this is…,” he confessed.

Morgan took the paper carefully between her fingers, trying not to let her discomfort at how damp and sweaty it was show too much. It didn’t take much to figure out she was looking at an herbalist mixture for anxiety and sleeplessness. She looked up and the boy, and down to the list again. “We’ve got everything you need over here,” she said. She lead the boy over to the bulk aisle where the dried herbs and bottled oils were kept and alphabetized. “Did you want these bagged separate or together? Or--you probably don’t know how these work huh? We’ll do separate, so you can use any excess as you wish. But fair warning, we have a purchase minimum of one ounce for each item.” She put a small paper bag on the shelf in the middle of the display and started shovelling the herbs in. As she worked, she glanded sidelong at the kid and the dog that had decided to become instantly fond of him. Someone cared about them, to throw together this recipe, and he looked embarrassed enough for a kid his age to seem like he needed help. Would it be wrong to squeeze a few more dollars out of him if it so happened to brighten his day or give him some direction? Sure, he was scruffy, but not so much as to be desperate. He could afford a few extra bucks, right?

“Hey, you okay there?” Morgan asked him. “You seem a little lost. I’m getting some ‘needs direction’ vibes from you.” She gestured vaguely. “If you’re looking for Niko Niko’s, it’s just further down the street. You’re not supposed to leave your car here while you go over there, but I won’t tell. And if you need something a little less literal, I might be able to help you with that.” She nodded toward the oracle room at the back of the shop, with its hand painted sign hanging crooked from a nail and entryway draped with lavender beads. “I do have sliding scale rates, if it helps you make up your mind.”

The great black dog continued to watch Luis in silent stillness, the Barghest’s posture poised as if waiting for something.

“No offense ma’am but I don’t believe in…,” the teenager half-turned but caught sight of the enormous stray waiting for him in the darkening sunset. Those pupiless red eyes immediately filled Luis with a nameless dread. Cold sweat stained the back of his T-shirt as Luis’ skin went clammy despite the Texan heat. Luis couldn’t process why some random big-ass dog would wig him out so much. He wasn’t even afraid of it biting him or even the dog itself.

So why was his heart pounding in his temples?

“Yeah uh..s-seperate would be great,” Luis reaffirmed to Morgan needlessly. The labels on the tinctures and herbal selections blurred in his vision as Luis tried to get a handle on his thoughts. “Direction like, oh you mean to the interstate,” Luis replied in a misinterpretation of Morgan’s broader meaning. “I’m alright thanks, yeah merging on that triple hairpin by Foster is a pain in the ass but it's chill.”

Luis looked over to the oracle room with the dubiety of someone for whom the occult was just a vague ‘other’ mentioned at Mass or when abuela suggested a Sonora Market cure for whatever new cold was going around. He seemed about to decline again until the creeping skin-crawl of Barghest’s glare boring into his back made Luis amenable to any distraction.

“Yeah uh sure,” he said, taking a step towards the beaded shroud. “I’ll give it a shot.”

Morgan followed the boy’s eyes to the dog. He was looking pretty well fed for a stray, and his eyes--red, alert, sharp with an uncommon intelligence--made her shiver. Definitely supernatural. She didn’t know, how, or what, but it didn’t look good. “And I mean--” How to put this in just the right way? Or at least the more convincing way? “I mean your spirit, your chakras. Believe in your connection to the universe or not, but are you really going to say to my face that you know how you’re going to make your life worthwhile to yourself? That you know how to reach your greatest good?” No one did. Heck, she was a devout wiccan most days out of the year and even she didn’t know what her highest, greatest good looked like. “And if you’ve got the cash, I’ll throw in a cleansing, something to make--” she gestured at him vaguely, “Whatever negative heavy energy this is that’s stuck to you. Seriously, do you ever feel tired out of nowhere?” It was summer and the sun was exhausting; everyone got tired out of nowhere.

Maybe she was laying it on a little thick, but Morgan was tired of ordering off the dollar menu for dinner and she felt like she was taking her life into her own hands when she conjured money from school pens and laundry lint cotton. This kid’s money might get her a pot pie that didn’t come from the freezer, or enough tacos to last her a week, or maybe she’d blow it all on seafood, or a dress that hadn’t been worn by someone else. “I’ll ring you up first, and then we’ll see about getting the rest of you squared away.” Morgan did, and when that part of the transaction was over, she lead him into the oracle room.

In truth, the oracle room was an old storage closet with the door taken out. Morgan breezed through them and went to the antique flea market find armoire, where all the necessary items were kept. Morgan took out a small tray of tarot decks and took the one she liked best, a well loved Raider-Waite with stars on the backs and gold-gilt edges. “I’ll shuffle them myself, but you should tell me when to cut and start again and when to stop. When I’m done, you’ll spread them. You’re the one who needs to connect with the deck, after all.”

Rafael Martininez had given his son that smirking half-smile while Malia had given Luis the pale blue eyes watching Morgan shuffle cards. Sweaty light brown hair clung to his forehead beneath the Dallas Burn hat, stray strands dangling back his eyes. The lanky teenager sat awkwardly across from the cartomancer, doubting not only her veracity but that a term like destiny could even apply to someone like him.

Like many children who’re so profoundly blessed to grow up in a home of unconditional love, Luis had no idea that Rafael and Malia given him a protection rarer than talismans, weirds, or wards. Rafael had come to this country for a better life, and Malia had wanted a home that was safer then the hell she’d left. Together they’d given both dreams to their children, so Luis and his siblings would never have to go through what they had.

The freckled face that lifted to Morgan’s was innocent of hate, abuse, or fear of abandonment. Even in following a strange woman into a shrouded back room, it’d never occurred to Luis to worry about anything more sinister than carnival charlantry.

“So uh...like this ma’am,” Luis asked as he placed some cards face down on the table.

It was this very innocence in Louis that dulled the edge off Morgan’s guilt. It was wrong (if wrong was a real concept) to spoil something pure, but if she was really the worst thing that was going to happen to this kid in his teenage years, he was pretty darn lucky. At least he was getting some introspection out of the deal. Could he have gotten a tarot deck from the discount bookstore two blocks over for a quarter of what she was going to charge him, or thought everything out on his own for free? Yes. But he was also some bushy tailed high school kid; could happen wasn’t the same thing as would happen.

She’d had more instructions to give, some arbitrary waving of hands and maybe some visualization in what one of her co-workers called her ‘yoga voice’, but Louis, in his eagerness, had taken more than the requisite three cards she had planned on, wich just meant she had a ready-made excuse for the forty dollars she was going to take from him. “My, my, aren’t we eager?” She said. “What’s interesting to me already is that you have intuitively drawn out one of the more complex and energy taxing card spreads. Imperfectly, but--” She straightened them out at random until they made more of a geometric pattern. “See? I barely did anything at all. These cards must really like you. I don’t normally do something this involved, but it looks like there’s something here that wants to come out, and I’m not in the business of stifling anyone’s growth or energy.”

Morgan flipped the first card over to reveal The Fool and managed to keep her laughter light and soft. “Well, even if I hadn’t been doing this for so long, this is you, where you are right now. Don’t take the title personally, these are antiquated terms. He’s just young, and at the start of a great journey, not even begun, just on the precipice. He’s got his whole life ahead of him, and the sun, see? It’s shining on him to show that the universe is aligned with his desires. The world wants you to support you, wants to see you succeed.”

The second card. The Tower. Morgan’s eyes widened. Not really vibing with the story she’d been telling, but maybe the one after… Eight of Cups. Morgan flipped over the last ones. Death and The Moon. “Hmm...Fascinating...” Morgan said, stalling for a way to spin this. “The thing about the major arcana is the magnitude of forces. Forces like destiny and fate and the collective consciousness. These forces are bigger than a ten minute fight with your friends or what you want to do after graduation, these are ‘beyond your control’. And you have four. The universe really does have plans for you, that’s kind of exciting, right?” She smiled, hoping to get some confirmation from him, or at least some more of his trust. “What does your intuition tell you about this journey, honey?”

Morgan’s performative coaxing elicited a dubious look, but the striking illustrations of the Tarot drew Luis’ attention regardless. The fool was poised with one foot over the cliff, smiling blissfully as the sun warmed his back. The tower’s blackened crenellations tumbled down the cliffside as the once indomitable edifice was battered into ruins by a storm. A haggard traveler slumped down in relief on a river bank as eight golden chalice stood resplendent over the churning rapids. Death rode on its pale horse, a scythe clutched in one skeletal hand while offering an exquisitely detailed rose. The Moon slept in the sky above a verdant shore. Wolves howled in its light while pelagic creatures breached on the lunar tide.

“Woah that art on these is something else,” admitted Luis as he squinted at the intricate illuminations, clearly sensitive to aesthetics but not the higher esoteric meaning.

Unfortunately intuition is only as good as the experiences which inform it and Luis Martinez had been sheltered from the world’s cruelty. It was a blessing to be sure, but it also made Luis unable to imagine that evil doesn’t need consent to claim you.

“My intuition is uh,” floundered the young man who had about as much affinity for divination as the average block of cedar. “The ranch’ll catch on fire, maybe a relative will die, but we’ll find like eight things that’ll make it better before the next full moon,” Luis posited.

Morgan’s stomach rumbled as the boy ogled the artwork on the cards. She was tempted to commend the kid on his ‘uncanny insight’ into the realm of the divine and take her money and run down the street for a hot stack of tacos. But the kid was so bright eyed and easily awed. She felt like she owed him at least some of her knowledge, even if she thought the tarot was psychological self-talk at best.

“Fortunately for your relatives, nothing here is quite that literal,” she said, laughing warmly. “But this journey you’re on, both within and without, is going to be perilous.” Perilous to the point of being seriously dangerous and traumatic, if this really was his subconscious sensing something on the horizon. But that wasn’t something she was going to say to his face. She wanted money without having to lie to her mother about where it came from later. “Even though your desires are upheld by the earth and stars, there will come a time when it feels as though you’ve been cast out and lost everything. But the key to staying your course is to…” What was a precious uplift-y way to spin this? “Hold fast to your sense of self. Remember the core of who you are and what you want. Because, if you do, then you will survive the upheavals, and you will be able to choose wisely what to keep, what to leave behind, and end up so strong, it’ll feel like you’ve been resurrected and leveled up into a new, better, cooler version of yourself!” She had no idea how to make sense of the moon card in a positive five star customer service rating sort of way, so she moved it underneath the spread, smiling like this had been her master plan all along.

“This card with the moon and the wolves isn’t your endgame, it’s an indicator of the vehicle, the thing that encompases the whole. All this massive change ahead of you isn’t necessarily going to be visible to everyone. It comes from within, sometimes hidden, like how you can only see the stars when it’s dark out and most of the world is asleep, and wolves howl when the world is in shadows. It’s like that. And it’s going to be amazing.”

Morgan checked her watch and slumped back in her chair as if she were exhausted. Not a hard thing to do when it was this hot out. “So, that’s gonna be forty dollars for the energy and the insight. Technically, with how many cards you pulled, it should be a little more, but I can tell you’re taking a risk on something new here and I want to honor that. But we can keep going if you have any more questions!”

“Vehicle huh...not sure dad’s gonna let me spraypaint moons and wolves on the truck,” Luis mused, perhaps taking the ‘vehicle’ thing a bit too literally or not wanting to think too hard about the possibility of his life changing.

Luis looked over the intricately illustrated cards, eyebrows wrinkling as he tried to parse through the profound chicanery Morgan had spouted. A bite of the lower lip hinted that Luis had never really encountered those who could appear to say everything while stating nothing particularly specific.

“Well shiiiii..,” the teenager breathed before glancing up at Morgan and catching himself with a small hssk of inhalation, as if some inner parental voice had scolded him about cursing in front of a lady. “That was pretty cool,” he amended, clearly at a loss before everything he’d been told, too polite to claim he didn’t believe any of it, but also too much a child of modernity to heed the weird feeling in his gut that recognized something...hit different...about this chance prophecy.

Luis grinned bashfully and unknowingly let fate’s final warning pass him by.

“Forty bucks huh, I’ll havta explain that somehow,” the young man noted with the mild consternation of someone blessed enough to just worry about a family member who’d be more peeved about gas money going to “fortuneteller” then the actual cash itself.

The bills slid across the table after some awkward wallet-riffling. “Thank you ma’am.”

Morgan snatched up the bills and shoved them down her shirt before the kid could change his mind. Whatever ominous feelings his subconscious were trying to air out was no concern for her. She had too many problems of her own to bother with anyone else’s. “It takes a long time to read the cards,” she drawled smugly. “And lots of energy, to open oneself and reach beyond the veil.” She waved her fingers as if to say tootles, and went back to fanning herself until he was gone.

She helped a lady find some yarrow and made up a policy about consultation fees to get another $10 in her pocket. She was using her agency to bridge the gap between minimum shop girl wage and living wage, working her will to get the right kind of energy flowing her way. Mostly, the energy of not-starving and not invoking the ire of darkness from using alchemy to get ahead. It didn’t line up with the rest of what she understood, neutral magic forces should be lining up to help her right her cosmic access and be less chronically miserable, but that was a problem to untangle another day.

At the end of her shift, Morgan shuffled the cards once again and lined them up on the cleansing plate the shopkeeper wanted the used decks put on. By chance, or so she told herself, she picked up the topmost card to see what was there for her. But it was just the death card, and Morgan knew the last thing that was gonna happen to her life was a hard reset. She stuck it back in the middle of the deck and slipped away into the long shadows that marked the summer evening.

#flashback friday #wr luis #wr chatzy #wr luis chatzy

[chaotically-cas]

you don't have to write this i genuinely just came up with this off the top of my head. aged up steveboy, they're still like mutual friends in the gang but not really friends, but they're spies in different agencies and like on one mission they're hired to kill each other. so it's like mr and mrs jones except they're not married at first and they slowly fall in love over time

Jskfkkske ok I love this so so much. I tried I hope this is ok 😭

Warnings: cursing, mentions of death & funerals, & guns

Words: 1036

Fluff (?) au

Taglist: @thegaygreaser @therealsehinton @naturallesbain @donttakemyknives

- - -

Steve was sitting at a bar in a town he had never been in before. His team leader had advised him of what bar to go to. He was on a secret mission. It was his first mission where he was actually assigned to take someone out. It wasn’t like he had an issue with it. He had just never done it before.

His mission had a name. Agent gold. It was rumored that gold had gone rogue, turned against his team. Killed them all in cold blood. And now it was Steve’s job to take him out.

He has been watching a hooded figure that had his back to him the whole night. And he watched as the man got up and walked out the bars front door.

Steve slammed a twenty down in front of him and stood up to follow the man, not caring to ask for his change.

He exited the bar and began following the man down the street. Not too close but not too far.

He followed him for about a block until he saw him turn the corner into an ally.

“Where the hell did he-“ Steve started, not seeing the man anywhere in sight before he felt the back tip of a gun pressed against his back.

“Why are you following me” the voice demanded, low, almost familiar.

Steve didn’t respond. Instead in one smooth motion he turned around, grabbing the gun, and pointing it in the mans face.

“Ponyboy?!”

“Steve?!”

“What the hell are you doing kid?” Steve scolded, dropping the gun to his side.

“I could ask you the same thing” Pony shot back.

“I’m supposed to-.... are you agent gold?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow in complete shock.

“Holy shit. You’re agent blue” Pony said breathlessly.

“Shit” Steve cursed.

They didn’t say anything for a few seconds, trying to fully take in the situation at hand.

“How the hell am I supposed to kill you?” Steve chucked out, rubbing his temples.

“How am I supposed to kill you-“ Pony sighed, letting out a laugh himself.

“Well damn kid” Steve said shaking his head “I heard you went rogue.”

“Rogue?” Pony asked surprised “they told me you went rogue. Killed off your team and everything.”

“What the fuck? That’s what they told me.”

“Well I’ll be dammed. They just want us both dead, huh?” Pony laughed nervously. It was an awkward situation to say the least.

“What the hell are we supposed to do?” Steve questioned, rubbing the back of his head.

“Well as much as I’ve wanted you dead all my life, I don’t think I can kill you” Pony joked.

“Same here” Steve laughed “shit.”

Shit was right.

Neither of them had any idea of what to say. Or do. It was an absolutely impossible situation, or so it seemed.

“Wait I have an idea” Pony snapped, his eyes looking nearly electric.

“Yeah?”

“What if we fake our deaths?!” he asked, his eyes darting around Steve’s, looking for an answer.

“Jesus, kid, are you crazy?” Steve questioned.

“Maybe. Hear me out” Pony started “if they think we killed each other they aren’t gonna send a clean up crew of the other. I suggest we both just fall off the map. Lay low for a few months. And return home.”

Pony let Steve digest his words for a minute.

“Shit” Steve finally laughed.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The two of them stayed talking about their plan in the dark alley for another hour or two, discussing every detail.

~ ~ ~ five months later ~ ~ ~

Steve and Pony had been held up together in some crappy run down abandoned safe house Pony had remembered. It was pretty damn boring but they had made the most of their situation.

The big bosses had fallen for their deaths. They held a funeral service and everything. They both felt bad for the gang, even though they hadn’t seen them in years, thinking they were dead and all.

The close quarters at first were incredibly awkward. The first week they hardly even spoke to each other. But pretty soon after the first month they would regularly stay up all night talking. Sharing. Bonding.

They began to know each other’s trauma inside and out. Pony even shared his poems and writing with Steve. Steve baking Pony cakes. Cooking breakfast for each other in the morning. Sharing drawings. Hell, if you didn’t know any better you’d think they were some old married couple. Not a couple of best friends' brothers that just didn’t want each other dead.

“Steve, when are we gonna go home?” Pony asked, they were sitting on the house's crappy dusty old couch. Pony’s head on Steve’s chest as they listened to the small radio. Something they had grown accustomed to doing. Cuddling, that is.

“Do you wanna go home?” Steve questioned back.

Pony thought about it for a second. To be completely honest, he didn’t. Five months ago he would have given anything to go back home and live his normal life. But now, this was his normal life. As messed up as it sounded.

“I don’t think I do” Pony breathed out, the first time he admitted to it out loud.

“Oh thank god” Steve signed like a weight had just been removed from his shoulders “cause I like our arrangement we got going on now.”

“Ya do?” Pony asked, looking up to Steve’s eyes.

“Hell yeah” Steve chucked “actually I was thinking bout something.”

“What were ya thinking about?” Pony sat up to better meet Steve’s eyes.

“Us” Steve shrugged.

“Us?”

“Yeah. Us. What do you think about it?” Steve asked.

“Think about what?”

Steve could tell Pony was genuinely confused.

“God kid do I gotta spell everything out to you? I thought you were smart” Steve laughed, a toothy grin spreading across his face.

Pony’s face only twisted in more confusion.

“Maybe this will help” Steve smirked, raising a hand to Pony’s face and gently pulling him to his lips.

The kiss was natural and smooth, like something they had been doing for years.

Steve pulled away, hand still stroking Pony’s hot cheeks.

“Oh.” Pony breathed out.

“Oh?” Steve chuckled “ya get the picture now?”

“I think so” Pony blushed.

#the outsiders #Steveboy #steve randle #ponyboy curtis

[fallen029]

Festive

Laxus boots crunched under the snow and he regarded the same as he did every year, a slight snarl on his lips as he spied not only the accumulation, but the godawful snowmen that people liked to roll up in their front lawns. It was all he'd been welcomed to, the second he stepped off the train at the city station, as well as annoying kids pelting one another with snowballs or adults skidding around as they tried to navigate the hellscape that was wintertime in Magnolia.

"You're a downer," Mirajane told him more than once when this yearly attitude of his whipped up, a sentiment that was echoed bravely by her siblings now, knowing that now counted among his siblings as well (at least by marriage), they were above reproach. "And one day you're going to regret that."

"What you gonna do?" he'd retort back, not only in those instances, but when the woman complained about his attitude in similar situations. While there were many things she loved her dragon for, his inability to not easily play into a situation was not one of them. "Curse me, demon?"

"Maybe," she toy back and if he wasn't really feeling so lowly, just annoyed or purposely up playing his attitude, he might give her a grin back for that one, but during the winter?

Under these situations?

No fucking way.

"You're a realist," Freed offered him more than once. And he said it in such an admiring way. With a sharp nod and such honest insistence that it was hard to combat him. "You have difficulty placating the easily amused. Your interests are not swayed by the fanciful and bright. It is not a blight; rather a mark of a true, serious mage. If you are not that, then what are you?"

A sourpuss. Crank. Hardass.

"A jerk," Lisanna offered him, in a way only she could, as though he hated it so much, maybe she was his younger sister now, poking at his cheek one night when she was drunk and so was he. She pressed her finger deeply into his cheek, leaning over the table they were at to do so, much to the wide eyes of the nearby (and sober) Lucy and excitement of Natsu. But Lisanna held none of the fear or exhilaration of her friends, rather sneering in the guildhall she'd grown up, at the man who knew it still much better than she, "You're a jerk, Laxus Dreyar."

This was hardly a revelation.

He'd been one his entire life.

Save the few short years in the beginning there, perhaps the crux of why he, in the end, did become a flat out jerk, Laxus had pretty always encompassed that stigma. His family name bared heavy weight and he shoulder it best he could, but that meant sacrificing a huge part of himself in the process. He liked to think of himself as a mostly changed man now, but his stick in the mud, aversion to (others) nonsense had followed him into his later years and now, a fully grown married man, he found it too hard to shake.

It was his shtick, maybe, his placement in his family and friend groups, and it hardly bothered him most of the time. A sense of pride. Like Freed had insisted to him. He was a serious man and there was something to be said for that. The rune mage himself could be classified as one at times.

And yet, Freed also knew when to turn it off.

He could don a silly costume for the Fantasia Parade. Drink coco and reminisce towards the end of the year, trade gifts on sentimental holidays. Turn it on. When he needed to. In a way that Laxus had never learned to.

They all could. All of them. In the hall. Even the gruffest among them, with the most tragic and horrific of backstories, could squash their traumas and beefs for their friends and guild in the rare times of true kinship. Celebrations of the important things in life, holy events observed by even outsiders to their intended recipients, they could all get a teary eye out of the most seasoned wizard.

Laxus though, he always found these emotions too far out of his grasp. He'd done well to wiggle away from his natural aggravation toward these events, hoping for anything more from the man was shitting away desires. He never had those hopes for himself and, for the most part, others didn't have them for him either.

The demon though…

She was always and optimist.

Or at least she was now.

She'd gone through her own trials and tribulations, only to come out not a buried person, but rather a different one. And Laxus respected that. Fuck, he loved that. He loved her. But sometimes...he just couldn't indulge her in the way she wanted.

And that was fine. Maybe. Other than throwing around threats of curses or humorous jabs, Mira mostly left him alone in his misery. It was what Makarov instructed her to do, that first Winter Festival that she was dating his grandson and had come to him, dismayed over his lack of interest in the festivities.

"Master told me all about it, Laxus," she'd come to him, all weepy and shit, launching herself at him the second he opened his apartment door to her urgent knocking. Sniffling as she nuzzled her head into his chest and the man just tried to figure out what the hell was going on, Mira said, "About your father and mother and how they treated you, you know, during that terrible winter when they were getting a divorce and I just-"

"Mira," he complained, patting awkwardly at her head. "Why the hell were you talking about that with Gramps?"

"Because you're miserable, Laxus." Blinking back her tears, she stared up at him then with her bright blue eyes uncharacteristically clouded with concern. "I always thought you were just distant around this time because you didn't have someone in your life to force you to be better. And then I thought I was failing or something, at making you happy. But now I know that you're just sad and hurt and-"

"My parents were fucking shit all the time, Mira."

"L-Laxus." She frowned then, pulling away from him some. "Don't be vulgar."

"They're my parents," he pointed out. Shrugging some as he only moved to pull the woman further into the apartment, he questioned, "What'd the old man tell you, huh? 'bout the time my mom locked me outta the house? In the snow? And Gramps was outta town and I sat outside the locked house cryin', all fuckin' nigh, in the snow? Or no, I bet he told you 'bout the time that my father decided to fuck with me, because I was a shitty little kid, and used his magic to trick me into thinking the snowman I built came to life? Attacked me? That was fucked up. Or how about the Winter Festival where they-"

"Laxus-"

"Let's talk about the Fantasia Parade. All the times they promised to be in it, to be there, even, just fucking be there, for the Harvest Festival, but never showing up. Never being around. Or oh, you wanna get into birthdays, demon?"

"I-I mean if you need to-"

"I don't." And he told her this flatly, frowning as he spoke. "And you don't need to go and talk to Makarov about it. About me. To find out why I'm the way I am. I just fucking am. Just like you just fucking are the way you are. And I don't ever want to have this fucking conversation again, alright?"

Mira nodded then, in agreement, but he didn't rightly mean it as much as he thought he did, after only a few months of dating. As the years waged on and the relationship deepened, it was his grandfather telling all of his darkest secrets, but rather the man mentioning them, either in passing or bearing his soul, openly, whenever they lounged together.

It was a lot.

Sometimes.

The things that made his shoulders tense all these years or his jaw clench so heavily, sometimes, when he got to thinking too much, got too quiet, and she knew how to get it out of him. Or she learned. Eventually.

She was able to drag most things from her dragon, the demon was, and yet…

He just wasn't someone who had the spirit. For the season. For any season. Time was elusive to the traveling mage and he was around more now, a married man, settled down all he could, but that didn't mean that he'd adjusted fully. Given up fully.

But...if it meant so much to her, he'd be around. For the important things. Maybe not enjoying them, but he'd be there. He came to the parades and the festivals when he could, always around for the demon's birthday and his own, if only because she seemed to enjoy it so much more, when it was about him. He spent time with her family and brought them into the fold with his own, Gramps and the Thunder Legion.

Holidays had meaning again. In a weird way.

Just not enough for him to get over his...hangups.

So no.

Laxus wasn't in a jolly mood, as he walked through the city that afternoon, observing in passing the sights and sounds of the approaching Winter Festival, thoughts of his own drifting to the presents he'd have to get and even dreading, perhaps more, the ones he'd receive in return. The long parade and the huge jobs he'd be passing over, just to stay at home.

All while dealing with the frigid temperatures, threat of blizzards, and, every fucking year, snowmen.

Fucking snowmen.

The years had been kind to the S-Class wizard and it wasn't a tiny apartment anymore, that he had eventually asked the demon to move into him with, but rather a rather nice home they owned together, he liked to think, with a big tree in the yard for climbing and a nice front porch for a dog to lounge.

A home of an S-Class wizard.

"Papa!"

But also a family.

Laxus smiled some, as he came up the shoveled walk of his home, being greeted by a loud call of his name as well as someone rushing right over to toss their arms around his waist and he was still getting used to it. The feeling. His daughter was only three and was growing every single day. While the warmth of her hug was something he was accustomed to, it was still refreshing, every time he was away for a week or more, to see how her speech had grown or notice she'd grown a bit a more.

And she had a lot to tell him that day, as Laxus ruffled her white locks, the little girl abandoning the piles of snow she'd been pushing together, as she tugged at his hand to finish tugging him up to the house.

Mirajane was with her, of course, as well as Lisanna, both giggling at the girl's action, but following all the same, the old dog up on the porch, who did find that he loved to lounge there, stretching before rushing to get in just as the door to the house closed.

Everyone told Laxus that he took to being a father better than they thought he would.

This was something that was mostly said in pretend awe, but he could tell it was actually absolute mystification. People that he'd known in his former life, the one before he settled, had never pictured him as more, he imagined, than his stupid deadbeat father and hey, he'd fucking give it to them.

There was still time.

He'd always taken it for fucking granted. How easy it must be. To fucking leave your kid behind. Just walk out the door. Forget about them. Put them away. Like he did all his memories or the people that used to work in the bar, used to be a part of the guild, when he was a kid. His fucking parents both walked out at him, at different points, his mother before he knew what it him, when he was still cute and lovable, his father when he had a chance to know him, really know him, and hate him.

Laxus couldn't imagine either now though.

He thought, sometimes, when he was drunk and reflective, that his father had it easiest. He knew his son was a shithead and took off. Okay. But other times, when he was sad and remorseful, he thought about how his mother must've had it the easiest, right? She must've. Because she could still keep him there, he figured she still kept him there, wherever she was all these decades later, imaging him as whatever she needed, whenever she needed, and he was still a kid probably, in her mind. A little boy waiting for her. Sitting up for her. Thinking of her often.

He didn't imagine either of them slept well, when they thought of him, but then, he didn't imagine either did often enough for it to give them any real problems.

But it was so fucking weird.

So fucking weird.

The first time he looked down at his daughter, all covered in gunk from birth, a disgusting, distorted version of a little human, an aliens, really, that was breathing and crying and...his.

None of it made sense any more.

And it made even less as time went on.

He'd been able to rationalize his childhood, all of it, as just something that happened. His life in the guildhall was filled with kids who had parents that just didn't given enough of a fuck about them. It was a tale as old as time. He'd normalized this type of thing so easily due to his upbringing and yet…

Yet…

It killed him to go away on jobs, knowing he was coming back, that he was certainly, without a doubt coming back. And one day, he imagined, when she was strong enough to keep up on her own, when she had her own magic, he wouldn't be without her.

She'd be out there with him.

On jobs.

Probably.

He liked to think anyways.

"I think someone missed you," Mira giggled to him as they all ditched their snowy coats and boots by the door, Lisanna bending down to help her niece out of her own. "Dragon."

"Yeah, well," he grumbled a bit as he looked over his wife, taking in how she'd changed too, even just in that a few days, her form had changed, just a bit, as she edged deeper into her second pregnancy. "Maybe I missed someone too."

He was down for the month, at least, as they cycled through the ceremonial events of the Winter Festival and it's accompanying celebrations. Laxus was welcomed to all that coco drinking and reminiscing, but now with his daughter as they traded her usual bedtime stories in for winter themed ones, him even donning the matching set of pajama pants that his demon had purchased, to go along with hers and the girl's.

Family time was all he had time for, it seemed, as the Thunder Legion was around most days, alternating ones they weren't with Mira's siblings, and Laxus bared it all with ease.

He'd had a few years now of learning to do so.

The morning of the Winter Festival, Mira had to get down to the bar to prep for things there and Laxus made a big breakfast for his daughter, back at home, as she dreamed so heavily then, so close then, of the gifts her aunts and uncles would be presenting her with, for being so good all year long. He played along, even playing coy as to what he and her mother had gotten her.

"What do you think you got?" she asked him over their food, staring at him with the same deep, blue eyes of her mother. "Papa?"

"Mmm," he hummed, "I dunno."

She giggled at that, as she had the past few days, when she asked the same thing, and he imagined she'd gotten him something nice. Err, well, that her mother had and she knew about it. That was how it had been, after all, the other two years. Mira was such a sap, when she'd get him something, she'd put the baby's name as well and last year, even, she'd drawn a little picture on his card.

It was cute.

He was a father now, he could admit when things should be classified in such a way.

Mira was busy all festival. She was for all of them. They saw her at the parade, at least, and their daughter clung in her arms until it started before being sat on her father's shoulder, and it snowed that night.

Something that his wife thought made it special, as it hadn't on that specific night in years, and Laxus was glad to leave everyone else behind at the bar that night, him carrying the gifts his daughter had scored, while she stayed snuggled up in her mother's arms, nearly asleep by the time they arrived home.

"I'd almost just wanna put her to bed," Mira remarked softly as their faithful mutt didn't even rise to greet them, as they entered their home, "but still need to give her-"

"Wanna give Papa his present," came a soft, muffled protest from Mira's shoulder where the girl's head was still pressed, but her eyes were open now, bleary and tired. "Mama."

"Well-"

"Here, let's do it then, huh?" Laxus dropped her other little trinkets and toys by the couch before going to snag his daughter from Mira's arm. Helping her out of her coat, he said, "Let's all trade our gifts. You won't believe what I got ya, demon."

Considering with her strong snooping skills, this was probably false, he knew, as she had a tendency to spoil such things for herself long before the suspenseful date. As she feigned surprise at the earrings that her husband and daughter had gifted her (because fine, Laxus was a sap too and signed her name as well), his wasn't so put on as he found himself presented with not one, but two gifts.

Mira had gotten him some nice, new boots she'd seen him eye for a long time, but would never justify buying, but while he was thankful for them, it wasn't what would capture his full attention that night.

"You bought this for me?" he asked his daughter from his chair as, when she presented him with a wrapped gift, it was with bright eyes and a snuggle, when he pulled her into his lap. "Huh?"

Shaking her sleepy head, she only yawned some as she informed her father, "Made it."

"You?" He nuzzled his head into hers as she yawned, heavily, and nodded.

"Me," she assured him. "Papa."

"How did I know," Mira was musing over at the mirror in the hall, where she was looking over where her earrings now were placed, in her lobes, "to wear this exact dress? To match these? Must have been meant to be."

"Yeah, must've," Laxus retorted with a roll of his eyes, but he was busy then, ripping at the haphazard wrapping job his daughter had done, still uncertain as to what he was expecting to find.

It was strange.

Laxus didn't particularly like gifts. Even things he needed or wanted. There was something false about it, to him, a disconnect. Saving up something for someone for some specific date that only had as much meaning as you could manage to give it. And, as mentioned previously, he struggled to scrounge much up at all. He went along because other people did and that was good and well, but…

"Wow," he whispered as he was presented with children's construction paper, stapled together neatly (no doubt by her mother) to form a little book with a title of 'Me and Papa' written, also, in her mother's handwriting, and this would be true of the other few sentences he'd find inside. But the pictures were the main draw. "You drew all of these?"

"Yep!" And she was forcing some excitement then, fighting back a yawn as he flipped very slowly through the pages. "Me!"

It wasn't like it was a story or anything. Just pictures that she'd drawn, hard to decipher to an untrained eye, but Laxus was becoming well-versed in the world of toddler art. And...Mira's sentences helped a bit. They described the scene, in most cases.

They were drawings of things they'd done. Him and his daughter. Together. Going to get ice cream. Going to the store. Playing with the dog. Reading books. Drinking coco. Nothing special. He'd gotten drawings from her before, frequently, her scribbling going to something (only slightly) more substantial recently, and while he treasured them in one sense, he knew that it really didn't mean much.

But this…

It wasn't about the little book, which Laxus would now carry with him, when he traveled out on jobs, placing it in the waterproof pocket of his pack, to look over when he was far from home and missing his baby. It was about something much greater. Something he thought he was void of. Hadn't experienced in a long time.

She'd been young.

The first winter. Oblivious. And the last, though she was old enough to at least some what enjoy it, there was still a bit distance in this.

Now was different. Not really one that she'd remember, necessarily, but certainly part of the beginning of her memories. A piece of understanding. A start.

For the entire day, Laxus had had this...bubbling in his stomach, like when he was a little kid, seeing it all again. The parade and the games. The party at the hall. And now, at home, trading gifts, her actively doing so with him…

He laughed, shoulder dropping as he openly smiled down at his grinning daughter. She leaned up to kiss him and his smiled brighter, if it was possible, his clear joy causing Mira to come over finally. It wasn't lost on the slayer either, as she leaned over his chair, that by this time next year, he'd be able to start the process all over again, only with more knowledge this time.

"It's cute," Mira agreed, thinking his interest was mainly in the gift itself and while Laxus could agree, it was something much more that was causing him to nod his head as he beamed down at his daughter.

"Yeah," he agreed. "It is."

#Miraxus #Mirajane Strauss #Mira #Mirajane #Laxus #Laxus Dreyar #Fairy Tail #Fanfiction

[thiswasinevitableid]

#5 Danbry SFW, please ;-; *prayer hands emoji*

Here you go!

5) I’m a pro athelete at a press conference and I make a comment to my buddy about you because I forgot my mic was on.

Context note: 27/5 is twenty seven laps in five minutes.

The Kepler Wrecking Belles are still taking questions, though Aubrey (skatename: Lady Flame) is starting to wish they’d wrap this dang thing up. Their team has won every exhibition game they’ve played at RollerCon (thus far) and so everyone has questions about their strategy and how a team from such a small town can be wiping the floor with teams from bigger cities. 

“Okay, one more question, then my girls have gotta go rest up.” Their coach and founder of the Kepler Wrecking Belles, Mama (skate name: Mama Bear, now retired), scans the crowd, “yeah, you, in the far right.”

Aubrey turns to look and suddenly has zero interest in ending the conference. Sitting there, tablet in hand, is the most gorgeous woman she’s ever seen. Blonde hair, a few stray freckles, a body that’d make a girl fall head over skates…

….oh shit, she’s asking a question. Aubrey really hopes someone else has got it.

“Hardest part of our training regime?” Sitting next to her, her teammate Juno (skate name: Divine Fury) taps her chin, “when Mama puts us through circuit after an entire practice of speed drills.”

“Really?” The blonde leans forward, curious, “that’s harder than doing the 27/5?”

Her teammates trade looks, murmuring among themselves, nodding, and Minerva (skate name: Chosen Buns), adds, “She puts basic training to shame.”

“No wonder you all are doing well, sounds like she puts you through your paces.” The blonde makes a few notes and the press conference comes to a close. 

But all Aubrey can think is, “like to put her through her paces.”

Oh no, she said that out loud. Wait, why is everyone looking at her, she whispered it right?

“Mic.” Juno points to the treacherous piece of sound equipment as the team dissolves into degrees of hysterical laughter.

Aubrey turns, finds the blonde blinking at her, stunned, as she packs up her things. Then the crowd is moving and Aubrey loses sight of her. 

“Shit, shitshitshit.” Aubrey stands, vaults awkwardly over the table. 

“Where the hell are you goin’, Lady Flame?” Mama raises an eyebrow, 

“I gotta go apologize and also, shit, nevermind!” She takes off, wishing she had her skates on as she stumbles through the crowd, looking for a flash of blonde hair. Which, given how many women here are blonde, is not the best strategy she’s ever come up with. 

She gets lucky, spots the woman getting into an elevator on the far end of the main hall. 

“Hey! Hey!” She waves, causing several people (including the blonde) to look. When their eyes meet, she blushes instantly. 

“I’m super sorry for my comment that was really inappropriate I just meant I think you’re cute is all but in like a respectful way!”

The woman smiles, calls back, “it’s okay And, um thanks!”

“You’re welcome can I-”

The elevator door shuts. 

“-get your number?” Aubrey finishes, much softer than before, “Aw, beans.”

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

“Aubrey, we’ve got three more days of the con, I’m sure you’ll see her again.” Juno pats her shoulder as she straps on her kneepads. 

“But what if I dooooooooooon’t? It’s been a whole day already and I haven’t seen her at all.”

“It’s still  big con. It might take a bit. Wait, is this why you keep offering to the be one to go get drinks or the first aid kit or whatever else we forget back in the room.”

“.....Yes.” Aubrey grumpily rests her face in her palms. 

“I see no sign of her in the rosters.” Minerva holds up the program containing photos of all the teams.

“Guess she’s not a player. Could be a ref, or just a fan.”

“Yeah” Aubrey sighs, clips her helmet on, “c’mon, let’s go warm up.”

The bout is against the She-vil Dead, and Aubrey is a little nervous; it’s still just an exhibition, but as Pivot it’s her job to coordinate many of the on-track plays. She doesn't want to look bad in front of the big dogs. Or anyone else who might be watching. 

They pull ahead fast; Juno is not only a speedy Jammer, she’s agile too, meaning she has no trouble dodging She-vil Dead’s blockers. Not to mention Minerva is a terrifying blocker against the opponents players. 

Then it happens; she’s skating, scanning for plays, when someone cheers her name in the stands. 

It’s the blonde, complete with little red and black cheerleading pom-poms that match Aubrey’s outfit.

“Look-” Minerva is cut off by an opposing blocker hip checking her before the same blocker sends Aubrey skidding down the track. She gets up to take her place in their formation, and can already tell she’ll have track burn for the next week. 

When they hit the next break, Mama knocks playfully on her helmet, “play now, flirt later.”

Aubrey does exactly that, and the Wrecking Bells win by a slim margin. She’s on the bench, taking off her skates and surveying the rash on her leg, when a shadow blocks out the lights. 

“Um, hi again.”

“Hiiii, um, I mean, hi.” 

“You’ll have to excuse her, think she took one too many hits today.” Juno teases and Aubrey flips her off as the blonde laughs. 

“Do you-”

“Can I get your number?” She is not missing her chance again. 

Another laugh, like neon on a warm summer night, “I was going to ask if you wanted to get a drink later.”

“Hell yes. But also please give me your number because if I lose track of you again I’m gonna die.”

“Or she’s gonna get us killed because she’s lookin for you instead of watchin the track.” Juno calls, zipping up her sweatshirt.

Soon Aubrey has a new number in her phone and a promise to meet Dani at the bar at seven. 

She arrives in her best black miniskirt and red top, spies Dani waving her down from an outside table. She looks so pretty. 

“You look so pretty.”

“Thanks. You look hot.” She grins.

Aubrey points finger guns her way, “I see what you did there.”

“My brother is the real punmaster in the family. Uh, were you really looking all over for me?”

“Yep. I wanted the chance to prove I really was interested in getting to know you. So, um, are you just a big derby fan?”

“Yeah, I did some boot camps but could never quite commit to the time needed to do more. I still love watching people play. I’m, uh, I’m actually moving to Huntington.”

“But that’s not far from-”

“Kepler, I know. That’s why I started following the Belles; they’re the closest team and I wanted to root for them. You’re, uh, you’re my favorite player. I think you’re just...you’re so cool.”

“Aw geez,” Aubrey jiggles her leg, “how am I suppose to out-flirt that?”

“By being yourself?”

“Dang, you’re good.”

Aubrey spends the next two hours on cloud nine as she shows Dani pictures of her pet rabbit and listens to her talk about her work in sustainable gardening. They talk shop too, Dani curious about what it’s like training under someone as formidable as Mama. 

The crowd in the bar bar is thinning out when Aubrey crosses her legs then uncrosses them in a hurry.

“Ouch.” She looks down at her track burn. 

“Yikes, that really is bad. I should apologize, because I guess it’s kind of my fault.”

“I mean, that huge blocker did most of the Gaohhh, oh I get it.” She giggles as Dani bends forward and plants a line of kisses up the mark. 

She sits up but stays leaning, meaning their faces are oh-so-close together, “Better?” 

“Uh huh.” Aubrey moves in, kissing her and getting a happy sigh and a kiss back. 

“I have some more apology ideas.” Dani gives her a mischievous smile. 

“Fuck, guh, um, don’t think I can tonight. We have a match tomorrow and Juno might literally kill me if I come in super late and wake her up. Tomorrow night do you wanna, like, go to dinner?”

“Definitely.” Dani stands and Aubrey mirrors her, “if I don’t see you before then, good luck tomorrow.”

“Am I gonna see my favorite fan in the stands tomorrow?” Aubrey purrs hopefully moving in for one last kiss. Dani obliges, then kisses her nose. 

“You know it, hot stuff.”

#danbrey #aubrey little/dani #meet ugly #Prompt Fills #TAZ Amnesty