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shady-tavern · 2 months

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Preview for "The Price of a Life" the March Patreon Short Story

(warnings ahead for murder and implied, attempted assault, please take care of yourselves)

*.*.*

Rani grew up with neglectful parents and a little brother who was treated like he could do no wrong. While she was often tasked with looking after him, receiving the blame for any and all misbehavior, her brother was given pats on the head for being such a strong willed rascal.

It wasn't the easiest time growing up and as soon as she was able, she spent every minute out of the house, helping the miller with carrying sacks of flour, holding horses still for re-shoeing at the blacksmith's smithy and in the evenings she was wiping down tables in the tavern.

Any excuse to stay away and earn some money was pounced upon without hesitation. She was soon known around town as the girl who accepted any job so long as someone paid her for it.

No matter how rough and tough it was, she lifted her chin stubbornly and no matter how hard it became, she was determined to prove people wrong when they doubted her.

She learned who in town was corrupt and to be avoided, she learned who would attempt to exploit her and she learned how to recognize the glint in people's eyes that promised nothing but pain and misery on her end.

She learned just how hard she had to hit to take someone down, heart pounding with terror and adrenaline as she stood in a dark, damp alley. A stone smeared with blood was in her hand as she stared down at empty eyes.

She learned just how deep she had to dig a hole to ensure no wild animals dug the body back out, painful bruises blooming on her skin.

She learned fast and she learned well. Her hands grew rougher than any other girl's her age, she became stronger than many of the boys and she turned into a ruthless negotiator with a sharp intuition for those who wanted to trap her into agreements that demanded too much of her.

Her parents rarely saw her, but the few times they caught her sneaking back home, they were scolding her for being a terrible daughter who was never around and she ought to hand over some of her hard earned coin, they had housed and fed her for years after all.

Rani moved out of her childhood home as soon as she was old enough and the blacksmith flagged her down for an apprenticeship right away. It was hard work, but Rani was used to that and in the evenings she still went around, doing odd jobs for a bit of extra coin.

"I heard that unruly brother of yours got tangled with some unnatural folk," she heard her master say one day, almost half a year after having moved out of home.

They had some massive horses in today and they behaved well under her steady and reassuring hands. She had learned early on that animals liked it when she gave them a feeling of comfort and security, that they liked her calm and quiet words.

"I genuinely don't care," Rani answered, the black mare snorting and finally relaxing, lowering her head and her ears perked.

She was a sweet one, but a different blacksmith had once badly hurt her while shoeing her and now she got worried and scared easily. It was understandable, in Rani's opinion.

The blacksmith hummed, a low noise that seemed to rumble in his barrel chest. "No one's seen him in a week, people think he ran into the Blood Lords."

Her hands stilled for a moment. Everyone knew of the Blood Lords, of the monsters that called the cursed city beyond the forest their home. Endless rumors surrounded that place, one worse than the other. Anything and everything could be bartered away in that place, from souls to blood and even someone's own children.

The Blood Lords never left their cursed city and while some speculated it was because they couldn't, they didn't need to either. Not when there were people desperate or foolish or arrogant enough to seek them out anyway, thinking they could weasel out a deal in their favor.

Rani had always thought that even her hardheaded brother knew better than to tangle with creatures which knew neither pity nor compassion.

"He'll be back soon, I'm sure," she said, though a part of her was sinking like a stone headed for the bottom of a lake. "He's old enough to start adventuring away from town. He's probably trying to get to the king's city and he'll turn around when he realizes it's a bad idea."

The blacksmith hummed, low and sceptical and Rani felt just as doubtful of her own words. What if her brother had been stupid enough to go to the cursed city? A place shrouded in eternal fog and with the taste of death so prominent in the air it made all but the most foolhardy or desperate flee in terror.

At least, it was like that according to rumors.

Rani focused on her work, but once she was sent away by her master, instead of seeking out one of the people who usually needed an extra hand, she headed to her childhood home. It had been the first time since she had moved out that she had gone back.

She half expected her brother to pop out, scaring her half to death and laughing at her face and the angry but secretly relieved lecture she'd give him. She half expected the little shit to have been hiding somewhere, watching as people fretted and worried, giggling to himself.

What she found were her parents crying their eyes out. Even before they looked up and spotted her in the open door, their hopeful faces falling with disappointment upon seeing that it was her and not her brother, she knew the truth.

Her brother had, indeed, been stupid enough to tangle with the Blood Lords.

"You must save him," her mother began, tone half accusing and half an order, as though she blamed Rani for this situation.

Rani turned on her heel and strode away, angry and worried in equal measure. She had always ended up stuck with cleaning her brother's messes. Had always had to face the anger of anyone he had played a prank on, getting scolded and told to keep him in line, because her parents slipped away from their responsibilities whenever they could.

She was sick and tired of being dragged into their problems, into being blamed. Her parents were two perfectly healthy adults, they should handle this.

She stomped all the way home, to the tiny little apartment over a general goods store she had rented. She passed by the alley where she had fought that terrible man, the rock she had used still lying where she had dropped it. Any blood on it had long since gotten washed away.

No one had ever found out what had happened to that man.

She owed her brother nothing. In fact, she had told him multiple times to be more careful with his pranks and jokes, that one day he'd bite off more than he could chew. That he had sought out the Blood Lords was as laughable and nonsensical as a louse trying to tear out a wolf's throat. What had he been thinking?

She told herself that it was most likely already too late to save him. The Blood Lords took everything they wanted, they were considered even worse than the fae knights that rode through the forest during full moon nights, luring the prettiest lads and lasses out of their homes to whisk them away for forever.

The Blood Lords lived off of blood and souls and the screams of the anguished and tortured, their veins filled with dark magic and malice. According to rumors at least.

But there was always a kernel of truth to rumors, wasn't there?

Rani stared into her cramped little space, gritting her teeth, until an enraged snarl ripped free and she grabbed her cloak and shoved some things into her satchel before stomping out the door again.

*.*.*

Would you like to read more? Then check out my patreon! Or the masterlist, for more of my stories and other patreon story previews. Enjoy!

#my writing #short story #preview #patreon #dark fantasy #dark fairy tale #monster lover #I hope you'll enjoy it!#i had so much fun writing it #and I hope it will be a fun read as well!

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blarefordaglare · 4 months

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Sky realizes he has a lot of grandchildren (mini fanfic)

*AHEM*

I have decided every day, I’ll write a mini fanfic (like >10 paragraphs wrong) to get myself prepared for febuwhump >:) (I’m gonna be writing every day something, stay tooned!)

this is the first one.

(P.S. this is probably not lore accurate to the Zelda games itself, but I have to make it clear how the timeline was established for myself 😂)

“Wait, what did you say about the royal bloodline?” Sky perked up from his embroidery. He remembers Zelda gave it to him when they revisited Hyrule. She showed him this amazing thing called cotton, which was much softer than any other material on skyloft itself. He wonders how she is doing sometimes, building an entire kingdom is a lot of work.

“The royal bloodline?” Warriors looked over, “I once heard someone tell me it has carried goddess blood for thousands of years.”

“Oh yeah! That reminds me, I once heard that the kingdom was started by a guy who used the triforce to destroy a great evil.” Hyrule chimed in, “Imagine holding the entire triforce at all times- must be hard!” (A/N, sounds rich coming from you Hyrule)

“…What about the blood of the goddess then?” Sky quipped. He was the one that used the triforce. He killed Demise. Could this have meant…? He and Zelda, could they have-

“Must have been in love, I guess.”

“Me and Zelda… love?” Sky’s heart couldn’t take the emotions that were sent to him, “The entire timeline, our childre-“

“Uh… Sky?”

“Guys, I think we killed him.” Wind looked over to the passed out hero sleeping on the ground. “Twi can I borrow your wallet? I wanna see how many rupees I can stack on his head.”

#lu sky #lu wind #lu warriors #lu hyrule #linkeduniverse #fanfiction #i had so much fun writing it #so wholesome #Sky has a LOT of grandchildren

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lured-into-wonderland · 24 days

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This was a violation against his rights!

He who has served without failure, who has gone above and beyond, who has done everything that one could do, who has worked for so long to make the world as it was, he who shines the brightest, the strongest of the strong, a frog! This was a violation, that witch, she had no right to take one look at him, dismiss him, mock him, think that he was not good enough at all, and he had lashed out, killed her, he was sure he had shredded her to pieces, but she came back, mocked him more and then cursed him.

A frog in the mud then it was.

This would not be the end of him, this would not be how it ends, he will live, always, he always comes back, he always finds a way to overcome everything that is thrown at him and this will be no different than all the times before, as he sat there for a moment and sighed, this pond, he hated it, he hated this lilypad, he hated everything that there was here, he had no powers, none he was trapped and so he was going to have to try and escape, get out of this pond, this garden and try and find, someone, anyone at all that can help him!

“Oh, there you are!” – a pale hand with long, elegant digits grabbed his green body gently; lifting him up from the green leave of the water lily; he was almost invisible there - “I have almost not noticed you on that leave. You’re so green now.” – still holding him in a way that prevented him from jumping, or running away from her, she moved him closer to her face. Two bright blue eyes were looking at him with curiosity and some amusement. And some sympathy. Nunnally was not sure what she thought about this whole affair. Certainly, she wouldn't let him get hurt. But a part of her remembered all he did, all he did to her, and that part was rather glad about the current development. In a way, he was getting what he deserved. Not that she wanted him to always remain the frog. Oh no, she would miss him too much. His golden eyes, his silver hair, his gentle (but clumsy) hands.

Right, his hands were not always gentle, she reminded herself again taking some odd pleasure in how hopeless he looked on her palm.

“Naughty frog.” – she cooed – “Were you trying to escape from me?” – she wondered what was now going on in that cute green head of his.

“Hmmm…” – she hummed – “Don’t try to kick with that tiny legs of yours, it will not help you.” – she stood up carrying him gently towards the palace. She was truly enjoying herself.

“Oh, what a cute frog you are. I wish you could talk.” – she laughed – “Although probably I should not be wishing for that. Seeing you but not hearing you it’s not such a bad thing.”

As she was walking through the beautiful gardens, both of them were wandering across not so long ago, she hoped his punishment would not last too long. Though when he is back in his human form (and she never doubted he would) he’s be so difficult for some. She could almost hear his complaints about his rights being violated. She hummed again and restrained herself from mocking him. The most powerful man in the world being turned into a frog. Although Nunnally said nothing, she could not help herself but to let out a small laugh: --

“Are you hungry? I am sure we’ll find something you like. What do frogs eat?” – she was teasing him – “Flies? Or slugs? I am sure we’ll be able to find you something to your liking.” – she patted his little head – “But perhaps you’ll still prefer some human food?” – she asked not expecting any reply – “I would put to into my pocket so that you could enjoy this little trip more.” – she continued sighing – “But I know you. So, I won’t.”

She was sure he was furious. Fuming inside that green body of his. Good that frogs could not bite. When she finally reached her chambers, she sat down at the desk and put him gently in front of her.

“There’s no need to be so annoyed, Regulus. But I understand. It is hard to be green.”

@fallesto

#regulus #nunnally #fallesto #tysm for this ask #i had so much fun writing it #she is having so much fun #it's hard to be green #she knows #she understand

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 11 months

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There's Nothing I Wouldn't Do

Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia x Nadia Garcia (OC)

A/N: I wrote this to go along with a series being written by mayhemmanaged and cassmitchell called Gunpowder & Lead! Update as of 01/31/2024: This story is no longer connected to anything being written by the two accounts mentioned above. They are reworking this story. This is MY HARD WORK AND EFFORT and I will not be deleting it just because this character is no longer included in their story.

The character of Attie Blake is @dakotakazansky's. Fern belongs to @desert-fern. Obviously all of the Daggers are the property of Paramount. The only characters who are mine are Nadia 'Nova' Garcia and Alex.

Disclaimers:Female!Reader, and all the warnings below!

Warnings: Abuse, Recovery from Abuse, Assault

As a reminder, everyone’s experiences are different. Everyone’s experiences are valid. This is a fictional story.

My Masterlist

It’s just past noon on a sleepy Wednesday in Austin, Texas. The afternoon sun beats hot against my face. I grab onto the hood shrouding my features and tug it up a bit higher to make sure nobody can see me. You see, I’m not supposed to be here. The only reason why I am is the baby boy in the carrier strapped to my front. Alex. My son and the only good thing I have in my life.

So why am I standing in front of a tiny flower shop named Hera's Orchard in one of Austin’s winding streets of small businesses with my baby in my arms and everything important to me in a bag at my side? There's a rumor, a rumor floating around on the dark web talking about this place. Rumor says that if you walk in and ask if they have any asphodel in the back, they'll help you, no questions asked.

I inhale deeply, trying to breathe despite my bruised, aching ribs and broken nose. I have to do this. For Alex, there's nothing I wouldn't do. I can take any and everything Arthur, my husband, lays on me. But the minute he turned his hand on our son, I'd had enough. The bruised ribs and broken nose, they're what I'd gotten for standing in his way. They're also the final straw. The tiny bell above the door jingles and as I walk in, the humid air stinks of soil and the heady perfume of the thousands of blooming flowers lining the walls. I feel a little bit like I've walked into a jungle. But automatically, instantly, it feels a bit easier to breathe.

Alex seems to like being in Hera's Orchard too, his chubby little hands grasping for the bright colors he can see even as his big eyes go wide at the onslaught of new sensations. I cuddle him closer, kissing his downy head before boldly forging my way to the counter I can see in the back.

There's a sign on the petal strewn countertop, proclaiming, "Ring the Bell for Service! Someone will be out shortly!" Right beside the sign is a bronze bell, like the kind they have on hotel concierge counters. I press it just once, and then have to drag a few petals from Alex's little fingers. If I hadn't caught them, they would've gone right into his mouth.

"Buddy. Alex! No, honey. Those do not go in your mouth." My son is ever vocal, babbling very seriously back at me. I'm having an oh, so serious conversation with my baby when an amused mock cough catches my attention. While I was conversing with Alex, someone walked out from the back and came to stand behind the counter.

She's beautiful, her shoulder length brown hair is tied up into a knot at the back of her head and green eyes bore right through me. She's small and slight, but when she folds her arms across her chest, the muscles bulge with hidden strength.

"Hi, welcome to Hera's Orchard. I'm Fern, how can I help you today?" I can't hide my nerves as I slide the hood off, finally revealing my face to Fern. Her piercing eyes soften, seeing the bruises rising up vividly across my face.

"Hi, Fern. I'm Nadia," I make Alex wave with his little hand, "and this little guy is Alex. I read online that you just got a shipment of some rare asphodels into the store? I was hoping to purchase one as a gift." My throat is dry as I catalog the expression on her face. Fern's serious and stern. The sweet, slightly goofy grin she'd leveled at Alex just moments before is gone.

"Come with me." I grab my bag and follow her into the back. "Hey Charlie! Can you take over in the front? I've got a consult on a custom flower arrangement here!"

Charlie, a teenage boy, thin and gangly with the wildest curls I’ve ever seen, levels Fern with a lovestruck expression before walking out to man the counter. I know what he's so struck by. Have you ever been in a room with someone and been captivated by them? That's Fern's energy, from head to toe. I follow her into a small, plant covered office. Just as we sit down, Alex begins whimpering and gumming at my fingers.

"Sorry, he's hungry. D'you mind if I nurse him while we chat?" I can't believe I'm asking a stranger this question. Arthur would cut me down on the spot if he knew. Per his rules, babies are to be bottle fed only when other people are present.

"Of course. Feed the little guy. Take your time. I take my custom arrangement consultations very seriously." Her smile is soft as I situate Alex at my breast, heaving in as deep a breath as I am able as he begins to nurse hungrily.

"Now that he's eating, do you want to tell me a little bit about the person you'd like to gift this special arrangement to?" Fern's got a little sketchpad in front of her and she begins to sketch bloom after bright bloom as I explain what I'm looking for.

"So, you're looking for an arrangement that is subtle and beautiful to gift your husband?" There's something dangerous in Fern's eyes as she uses a knife to cut the sketch free and hand it to me.

"Yes.” I trace over the thin wispy lines of the sketch, before murmuring, “This is beautiful. How soon can you have it ready?"

I can't believe I'm doing this. Can I poison my husband? That’s the catch about Hera’s Orchard. It is a flower shop, one that has rave reviews and an ever growing list of clientele, but it’s true clientele is a bit shadier than housewives who want a fresh bouquet for their dinner table. ‘Asphodel’ is the key word in those situations.

"Come with me." Rather than answer my question, she leads me to a small doorway in the back of the shop. She unlocks it with a key and grabs my bag. With Alex in my arms, I walk through the door, pausing only so Fern can latch the door behind us. Fern stops at the end of the passageway, knocking on the door. A small window opens, looking us over before the door opens and we're let through.

"This, Nadia, is the Underworld. This is Persephone and Songbird. They run this place and are my closest friends." The women I see arrayed before me are beautiful and strong. Are they the salvation I've been looking for? Can they save Alex, and by extension me, from more suffering?

"Hey, Bruiser!" It's Persephone, her tone musical even as she wiggles her fingers at Alex. "What's up, Buttercup?"

"Seriously, Seph?" Fern's disgust at the nickname is palpable but I can tell it's a play at disgust more than the real deal. "This is Nadia Wilson. She walked into the Orchard looking for an asphodel."

Those seem to be the magic words. Before I can blink, I'm pulled to a table with Fern on my right and both of the other women in the room seated before me.

"I'm Persephone," Her voice is soft as she looks at me with Alex snoozing in his baby bjorn after his lunch. "Bruiser mentioned that you needed some help?"

At my confused look, she's quick to assure me, "Hey, you can talk openly here. We've got the entire Underworld locked down. Nothing leaves this room. I can assure you of that fact. We got the best hacker we know to build our anti surveillance gear."

As much as that intrigues me, if only because I just built an anti-surveillance setup myself, I desperately need their help more. So I let the whole tale spill. How I emigrated to Texas as a young girl and taught myself how to code. How I'd fallen in love with the green beauty of the city and the hills surrounding it. But sadly that wasn’t all I’d fallen in love with. Arthur Wilson had swept me off of my feet. He seemed like a gorgeous man who had money and seemed to adore everything about me. So I hadn't hesitated when he asked me to marry him.

"Alex," you explain to the women, "is the only reason why I’ve stayed in my marriage for as long as I have."

My breathing is ragged as I stare at the wall behind their heads. "Arthur, my husband, has hated Alex since before he was born. My husband hated how my body changed with the baby. He hates how I'm not back to my pre-baby weight or body type yet. So he takes it out on me."

"At first it was just with his words. A probing comment here, a harsh word there. Then he started hitting me. I worked so damn hard to lose weight, to go back to what I looked like before, and it still wasn't enough. He's been hitting me more and more frequently."

"Then to top it all off, there is something else too. He's been cheating on me, I know he has. I've found red hairs on his clothes and he stinks of a perfume that's not what he buys me and insists I wear. But I could stand all of that. Last night, he tried to hit Alex. He's only three months old!" Your voice breaks and a tear slips down your cheek as you sob the words out. "He's just a baby, after all. Babies cry!"

"I can't let him hurt my baby. I can't live like this. Not anymore. Please help me. Please." My broken tones echo in the room around me as I make pleading eye contact with Persephone and Songbird in turn.

"Of course we'll help you, sweetheart! We're the Furies. It's what we do." I can't help my sobs as I let myself fall apart at their words.

3 weeks later

I wasn’t sure what to expect as the outcome from that first meeting at the Underworld, not at all. But whatever it was, it definitely wasn’t this. It’s 3 AM and red and blue lights blanket the front lawn of the suburban home I shared with my husband up until a few hours ago. That’s when I’d come downstairs with Alex in my arms and found Arthur and his newest side-piece, the red-head whose hairs I’d noticed on his suits, dead on the lounge chair in his study in various stages of undress. Like any dutiful wife, I’d screamed until our housekeeper found me and stayed by her side until the police arrived.

My pain and fear are all too real. Since I met with Persephone, Songbird, and Bruiser, it seems like Arthur turned all of his attention on me. I’ve been under a microscope ever since. He’s added a potentially broken wrist, two black eyes and a twisted ankle to the broken nose and bruised ribs I had the day I’d left Hera’s Orchard with a gorgeous flower arrangement under my arm. So the tears I cry as I clutch Alex to my chest in front of the sweetest Police Sergeant I’ve ever met are real. His face has been continually distressed since he first found me and I can’t believe how good he makes me feel.

“Sergeant Mickey Garcia,” he’d said, smiling at me as I tried to settle Alex from when the baby had been startled awake at the sirens of what seemed like the entirety of the Austin Police Department spilled onto our front lawn. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

I’d stammered back my own greetings and let him lead me into the kitchen.

“C-can you tell me what happened?” He’d blushed crimson when I tried nursing Alex to get him to settle down. His face had only grown more and more serious the more I spoke. I found myself spilling the entire tale to him, captivated by the curls spilling over his forehead.

“Sergeant Garcia,” his superior, a man with arresting green eyes and dark blonde hair calls Mickey over to him. All night I’ve been getting appraising looks from the men of APD. Either I look like shit with a squalling baby in my arms or they’re trying to figure out if I have the courage to turn black widow on one of the Police Department’s biggest donors. I do, but they won’t ever know. I look like a beaten down, broken woman, but I’m far from it. I’m a professional woman. I build custom computers and security protocols for corporations around the world. It’s my true passion and calling, one which Arthur had never cared to know about.

As Mickey briefs his superiors, the looks I get go from being evaluating to pitying. I know I look a sight, bruises turning blue and green on my tan skin and with bags so dark under my eyes they’re purple. Add to that my pajamas, bedhead, and a squalling baby and I’ve successfully slipped under APD’s radar. They’re sure to have pulled the security footage, the footage my paranoid husband always had recording, by now, the footage which shows me asleep in my bed or sleep-walking to Alex’s room when my collicky baby wakes me up in the middle of the night. Alex is a sleeping weight against my chest before Sergeant Garcia walks back to me.

“We’re going to get you into an ambulance Mrs.Wilson and get you and Alex to the hospital and check out. If you’d like, we can call someone to come stay with you while you’re there and who can take care of Alex while we wait?” His voice sounds like sex and smoke. Were I not so recently a widow and not so injured to boot, I would have jumped him on the spot.

“Yes, I have someone I can call. I’d like to change and grab a bag for Alex if I can first though?” At his nod, I limp my way upstairs, putting together a bag for Alex before handing the Sergeant both the bag and Alex at his insistence. Arthur never once held Alex like that. When I step out of the bedroom in a pair of jeans and t-shirt, Alex is happily drooling against Sergeant Garcia’s chest and he looks too comfortable for this to be the first time he’s holding a baby.

“Wow.” My voice is quiet. “This is not the first time you’ve held a baby, is it Sergeant?”

His chuckle is bashful and shy. “No, actually. My sister in Miami has three kids. I’ve held them all.”

“D’you have any babies of your own, Sergeant?” I don’t know why I’m asking that question, not now of all times.

“No, I don’t. But I’ve always wanted to.” He clears his throat before helping you into the ambulance and handing Alex to you. “Now let’s get you in touch with who you wanted to call. Who’d you like to call?”

My voice is all fire as I say, “Attie Blake. She’s a friend and my lawyer.”

4 months later

Arthur’s sister and mother had put up a perfunctory fuss when they found out he was dead, accusing me of murdering him and any other depraved things that came to his mind. They even tried to sue me. But even their high paid team of lawyers couldn’t stand up to Atlas Blake. With Attie’s help, I managed to win the case and secure all of Arthur Wilson’s fortune into a trust fund for his son. Mickey’s been by my side ever since as well. It was almost too easy to fall in love with him. Especially when I saw how easy it was for him to accept Alex as a part of the package deal. Mickey helped me scope out the location so I could buy the small shop near Hera’s Orchard which I made into a net-cafe and officially introduced me to Birdie Floyd and Emory Seresin, who I only knew so far as Songbird and Persephone.

Since then, my life has never been better. The Furies are the closest friends I have, and the shop, named Daedalus’ Automata, is the perfect place for me to do my thing. What’s my thing, you ask? Before my marriage, before Arthur demanded a trophy wife, I was in cyber security. Give me any network and a computer and I could tell you how secure the network is and at least four ways that I could make it better. I also make custom computers and anti-surveillance hardware. It’s how I continued making money under Arthur’s nose. Now, it’s how I’ve been paying back the Furies for helping me. I keep any mentions of the Furies out of the internet and away from the Task Force’s attention. The best part is how Mickey doesn’t care when I come home smelling like grease with Alex in my arms. How I wish I’d met Miguel Garcia first.

It’s late when I stagger through the front door late on a Friday night. It’s date night and I’m so late that I’m sure any excuses I have will be flimsy at best. Mickey had grabbed Alex from Daedalus when he got off of his shift, so I don’t have the baby with me when I walk through the door. The entire house is filled with the most delicious scent, and as I look at my watch, I know I’m at least an hour late for dinner.

“Mickey?” My voice is soft as I toe my shoes off and walk through the house. “I’m sorry I’m late, vida. I had this absolute wreck of a computer get dropped off for repairs.” In part that’s true, I did have a wreck of a computer dropped off for repairs. But that’s not why I’m late. The Furies were running an op tonight, one for which I was on comms, making sure my girls were safe as they were running around doing what they do best. I walk through the kitchen, my heart dropping at the sight of the candles on the dining table, the wax nearly melted away.

“Mickey?” My voice drops to a whisper when I walk into the study and see all of my computer screens fired up, filling the entire room with their cool blue light. On the screen flash three dossiers, my own, Fern’s and Ranger’s in addition to the blueprints for the facility we hit tonight. It was a strict information gathering op, but so important. How could I have been so stupid that I hadn’t locked that information down before I left this morning?

“I think you’ve got some explaining to do, amor.” I’ve never heard Mickey sound so serious. “I love you, and I promise I’m not angry, just worried. Tell me what’s going on.”

I can’t resist melting into his embrace, inhaling the musky warm scent of his cologne as he squeezes me tight.

“I love you, Miguel. I just need to have you sign something first. Then I promise I’ll tell you everything.” Then I reach for my phone and speed dial Attie.

“Hey Attie, I’m going to need an NDA here.” I can’t help looking at Mickey over the next half an hour we wait in the kitchen. I’m puttering around nervously, barely able to stomach the stew Mickey made while I finished up at the shop. Mickey’s not much better. He eats too, but he keeps stealing these searching glances of me, and the tension enveloping our small kitchen is nearly too much to bear. He tries to speak a few times but each time, stops short. I can’t help wondering what this means for us, for Alex who already has heard us both refer to Mickey as dad or daddy.

It’s the doorbell ringing which startles me out of the pensive way I’ve been glancing into Mickey’s eyes. It’s Attie at the door with Bradley right behind her.

“Hey Nova.” She’s smiling, which should provide me with a sense of relief. But I can’t help the dread pooling in my gut or the bad portents which my mind is constantly bombarding me with.

“Hey, Attie. C’mon in.” I hug her for a few minutes before leading her and her six-foot shadow into our kitchen.

“Hey, Roos.” Mickey sounds exhausted and I can’t believe it’s because of me. “So you’ve been read into what the girls are doing too?”

It breaks your heart when he folds into one of the chairs at the kitchen table and runs his fingers through his curls.

“How bad is it, Bradshaw?” At Bradley’s lack of response, I can see Mickey’s jaw tighten and worry cloud his features even more.

“It’s alright, Mickey.” It’s Attie who takes control of the situation. “Read over this, sign it, and then Nova and I will tell you what’s going on.”

Mickey gives the document a cursory look over, scrawling his signature where required before pushing it to Attie and leveling me with one of his intense panty dropping looks. It’s with my heart in my throat that I let the whole tale of my introduction and involvement in the Furies spill. Anger glints in his eyes as I finish.

“I need a drink. Whiskey, Roos?” He can’t even look at me. I understand needing a bit to process, but Mickey’s never processed like this before. Please let him understand. Please let this not be the end. I share a scared look with Attie before standing to grab a tumblr for her, too. I don’t drink, not a drop, and while I’ve never minded Mickey or our friends drinking, tonight the sight of the alcohol slipping down his throat just fills me with dread. Maybe it’s residual PTSD from Arthur, who’d beat me if he got too drunk, but it’s just as likely to be the tense situation I’ve found myself in.

“So where do we go from here?” Mickey’s looking right at me as he says the words. “I know you know this, amor, but I’m on the task force hell bent on finding Persephone and the Furies. To stop them. How can I protect my family? The woman I love, the woman I wanted to ask to marry me tonight, when she’s on the other side of the work I’ve devoted my life to?”

My smile is tremulous as I launch myself into his arms. Relief floods my veins, maybe this isn’t the end!

“You wanted me to marry you, Miguel?” I can’t hide my sobs as I bury myself into his skin. His arms are strong and secure as they automatically wrap around me.

“Course, amor. I’ve wanted to ask you to marry me since the day I met you.” I can’t help the clumsy, salty, kiss I press to his lips. “I’ve wanted you and Alex from first sight. This doesn’t change anything, not between you and me. It’s going to change everything at work, though.”

I get lost kissing Mickey for several more long moments, until the baby monitor on the counter chirps, spilling Alex’s cries into the room.

“I’ll get him,” I murmur in Mickey’s ear. “Attie will join me. Talk to Bradley, vida. He knows, so does Bob.”

Attie’s a silent shadow behind me as we walk into the nursery and I change the baby’s diaper.

“It’s going to be okay, Nov. The entirety of Mickey’s loyalty is with you and this little guy. They’ll figure out a way to keep us safe. And we’ll do our part to keep them safe too.”

Mickey looks relieved when I walk downstairs once Alex is back to sleep. It’s looking at his face and the home that we’ve made together that I make a vow I’ll keep if it’s the last thing I do. I’ll protect my fiancé, protect his friends and protect our son. If someone finds out about the Furies, it won’t be because of me. Nobody I love will ever get hurt again, not if I can stop them.

It’s that righteous vision that fills my veins when Mickey and I get married in a small courthouse ceremony a few weeks later surrounded by our friends. It’s a hurried engagement, but necessary, especially since spousal immunity can only help when in our situation. He adopts Alex too. Attie checked, Mickey adopting Alex does not void the Wilson trust fund. Things seem to smooth between Mickey and I. Our two week honeymoon in Miami is the most fun I’ve ever had in my life. Not to mention, the most time I’ve spent naked in one stretch. Mickey didn’t let me out of bed for the first 48 hours we were there.

When we get back, life sinks into its own balanced pace. My new normal, punctuated by the gorgeous solitaire diamond on my left ring finger, is full of promise. But as things pick up and I start hearing more and more about a new king-pin taking over Austin, the more I worry about what’s to come. But I’m able to put my worries aside for the most part, staying vigilant. I do what I can to help the cause, sending the young boys and girls who need help to Cora’s Bakery down the street for pomegranate scones. After all, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and that’s all of us. It’s why we do what we do.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@dakotakazansky @cherrycola27 @thedroneranger @desert-fern @sarahsmi13s @hisredheadedgoddess28 @roosters-girl @roostette @bobby-r2d2-floyd @footprintsinthesxnd @genius2050 @angelbabyange @djs8891

#star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #controlled chaos squad #dagger au #mm gunpowder & lead #cm gunpowder & lead #mama may and birdie create mayhem #mickey fanboy garcia x oc #fanboy x oc #mickey garcia x oc #i hope you love this one #i had so much fun writing it #nadia garcia

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bisexuallsokka · 1 year

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When Zuko says “Let’s head home,” after everyone has finished eating, there’s a hollow pang in Sokka's chest as they begin the journey back to the palace and he looks around, thinking, “This isn’t my home. It never will be.”

He wonders how much longer he will be here. Will he ever wander these streets as an Ambassador again? He can’t imagine Zuko kicking him out once Sokka officially resigns, but he can’t imagine he’ll want to stick around for very long anyway, not when he can go home again.

(or, ten years after the war, Sokka and Zuko are still figuring out their place in the world)

written for the winter solstice fic exchange for @scaredera! i hope you enjoy this my friend!! <3

#zukka #zuko #sokka #atla fanfiction #my writing #scaredera #stefon voice this fic has everything #characters dealing w the aftermath of the war even years later #mutual pining #almost kisses #ambassador sokka realizing hes done being ambassador #an act three breakup without them even being together #i had so much fun writing it #i have a lot of deleted scenes i might post from it #anyway. enjoy!!

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voidratwrites · 4 months

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IT’S FINALLY HERE! My Hermitshipping Big Bang fic!! If you like Selkies, mysteries, and slow burn, you should check this fic out!! I’m so happy to finally share it with the world. I’ll be updating it ever three days until all of the chapters are out!

#hsbb 2023 #hermitshipping #scarian #selkie au #i really hope you guys enjoy!!#this fic has been in the works since june #and its my first ever completed long fic!#I had so much fun writing it

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pierregazly · 12 days

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congrats on 1.5k!!!! can I request oscar with the gentle prompt "let me wash your hair." 💗💗

omg thank you!!! this was SO cute i had to do it immediately. thank you so much 🫶🏻

#it was so cute #i had so much fun writing it #pierregazly’s 1.5k celebration

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andvys · 1 year

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Steddie x reader lovers are gonna be obsessed with the next chapter 🤭

#we’ll burn the sky #this was a last minute decision yesterday #i had so much fun writing it

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dangerpronebuddie · 4 months

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Guess who finished the Hildy fic!!!!!! 🤚

Still have some editing to do, but she is almost ready to post! So!

If anyone wants to be tagged when I do post it, interact with this post 😊 Muah!

#my writing #the Hildy fic #Danger Prone Diaz #fanfic #i had so much fun writing it #but it also took forever for absolutely no reason

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showinalittlelife · 10 months

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For @nevvaraven read here <33

#this fic is so 🥰🥰 to me #I had so much fun writing it #anywaysss enjoy

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sunsburns · 4 months

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phone on the table NOW!! that ending of search for glory, we were so happy!!!!! only to be crushed with the defeat of being doomed by the narrative!!!!!!

AHH thank youuu so much!! i love a good old angsty ending guys like c'mon

#i had so much fun writing it #now i'm lowkey going through a writers block again LMAOO #loba spills her guts!

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96percentdone · 2 years

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23 Ship of your choice, have fun!

23.…in relief. You later gave me Renju/Pewter, which is very fun. First foray into this fandom, here we go~!

Pewter is a rational man. He has to be! As a scientist, his brain is his most valuable possession. Every phenomenon, no matter how strange or outlandish, has a scientific explanation that can be proven through repeated tests and experiments. If something can’t be explained via logical means, that doesn’t mean the answer is supernatural; it means the science required is at a level higher than humanity has achieved. Eventually, humanity will reach that level, and the world will appear clearer than before. It is the maxim Pewter lives by, the one truth that keeps his world in place.

Amanoma Fuuta, however, is not a rational man, though he tries to be. Were he a rational man, he would not have gone to Marble once, as it’s a place frequented by Date-san, a man with dubious tastes across the board. He certainly would not have returned, were he a rational man, not once nor twice but eight times, on the off chance he may re-encounter the very cute but very drunk blonde who bawled all over his coat about his ex-wife, hit on him with the same level of finesse, then passed out on the bar counter. And were he a rational man, upon learning that said cute blonde is Okiura Renju, Date-san’s premier drinking buddy, he would have ceased all contact, and not have acquired his phone number and started meeting recreationally for drinks and casual sex with a divorcé once a week.

Tonight is one such night, where Fuuta finds himself on a dimly lit couch at Marble with Okiura-san. Mama closed the bar for tonight over a half hour ago, but as a favor to ‘Ren-chan, for the poster~’ she’s allowing them to stay indefinitely. She says this every time. Fuuta thinks she values their company. Pewter thinks she finds Okiura-san’s drunk shenanigans entertaining, although she’s been out of the room for at least ten minutes now. Fuuta wishes he were her, if the growing itch in his knees is anything to go by. He’d love to run off into the night, cut all contact, and forget any of this ever happened, but he’s trapped between Okiura-san and a wall, so he’s not going anywhere. Unless he jumps over the table. Is he that desperate? Do I have enough space?

Thump. Plan canceled. Okiura-san, who until this point was slightly swaying from the beer, now rests against his shoulder. Tufts of silky hair tickle his collar, and Fuuta regrets not wearing his usual outrageous lab coat. Even the tiniest wall would block the faint scent of Okiura-san’s hair—bergamot and frankincense—and how that bit of knowledge makes his heart skip beats he wishes would remain steady. A shield between him and the burnt caramel eyes imploring him with unspoken curiosity, bourbon-induced mirth, and a twinge of ceaseless guilt. Protection from Okiura-san’s uncertain frown and the question he asks in an eternally smooth voice, “Is something wrong, Amanoma-san?”

Yes, I’m experiencing a severe influx of oxytocin, adrenaline, and dopamine right now, Pewter would say, but that’s too revealing for Fuuta. Sure, the odds that Okiura-san is familiar with the hormones your body creates when you’re infatuated are less than 1%, but Fuuta is not a gambler. Gambling is illogical—detrimental to your psyche—even if the only thing he’s risking is his own unexpected feelings. Instead, Fuuta settles on, “I may have had too much to drink.” He did drink more than usual. In a stunning display of logical thought (Hah!), Fuuta’s solution to being overcome by profound yet unrequited romantic interest was to drink until the feelings drowned. Clearly, it’s working out well for him. Why must he fall for a man still recovering from his messy divorce?

“Really?” Okiura-san asks, not convinced. “You’re usually more…oh, what’s the word I want?” He taps his leg and hums, his fingers brushing along Fuuta’s thigh; an act that’s surely deliberate. “Dramatic? Camp? Flamboyant. There we go.”

“Am I?”

“Extremely. Don’t you remember showing Mama your Squad Spacecraft impression?”

Yes, that’s coming back to him. Vividly even. Did I really try to stand on the barstool? Were it not for the alcohol, Fuuta is sure his flushed face would give his embarrassment away. I should stop drinking. For more reasons than one. “I suppose I have a penchant for theatrics.”

“Oh, there it is.” Okiura-san chuckles, and Fuuta must be especially unscientific today because it sounds melodic. “You’re the only person I know whose vocabulary grows when they’re drunk.”

That’s definitely the alcohol. Although Pewter is a scientist, and has three doctorates, he avoids using jargon so people understand him. Inebriation changes that. Fuuta doesn’t think of simpler phrasing, because alcohol makes him stop thinking. Right now, his mind is overrun by how easy it would be to kiss Okiura-san, which isn’t a suitable response. Nor is ‘Sorry, it seems I want to date you. Is that okay?’ What is a suitable response? Pewter would have a well-constructed answer, but Fuuta can only manage: “Oh…?”

“It’s cute,” Okiura-san says. He’s flirting with Fuuta. Of course he is. That’s why they’re here, isn’t it? They meet for drinks, they talk, and then stumble into a taxi back to Fuuta’s apartment for informal sex, and Fuuta wakes up alone. That’s their routine, well-trodden over half a year.

There lies the rub; Fuuta doesn’t want to wake up alone. He doesn’t want Okiura-san to kiss him without it meaning something. He wants there to be strings—no, not strings. Ties binding them together, intangible but felt even without being said. It’s not scientific, but Fuuta leaves science behind at work with Pewter. Now he’s here, enamored with a man that cannot feel the same. A man still reeling from a nightmare marriage, who sometimes drinks too much to forget, and Fuuta brings him back to his home, untouched. Okiura-san only recently accepted himself as a gay man; Fuuta is just helping with that. It’s hopeless. He should quit while he’s ahead; that is the rational thing to do.

The weight against his side vanished. I waited too long. Fuuta is about to apologize for getting lost in worries, but Okiura-san speaks first.“You’ve noticed, haven’t you…?” He glances sideways at Fuuta, before turning his resigned gaze to the table.

The apology dies in Fuuta’s throat. What is he talking about? “Okiura-san?”

“You’ve realized,” he repeats, like it makes it any clearer. “Isn’t that why you’re so uncomfortable?”

Somehow, in the seconds of Fuuta’s awkward silence, Okiura-san’s gotten an unknown idea in his head. Has he really looked that uncomfortable? Boss always said he was a terrible actor—wait. That’s beyond the point. How did they get from A to B? He’s missing information. “I don’t understand.”

He’s being sincere, but Okiura-san says, “You’re terrible at acting.” I know. “Even now I find that charming…”

Huh? Now he’s hitting on Fuuta again? Or, not quite. His tone is too hopeless, in contrast with his words. Besides, Fuuta has seen Okiura-san make the sudden switch between despair and horny, and it doesn’t look like this. He’s seen that apologetic face before—Okiura-san is prone to guilt spiraling—but not like this. Everything feels like a clue, but he’s an engineer, not a psyncer. Observations mean nothing without a hypothesis.

The space between them grew bigger. Okiura-san has scooted further off the couch; he’s trying to leave, like Fuuta wanted to moments earlier. How little he wants that right now. “Okiura-san.” He grabs Okiura-san’s wrist, uncaring if it crinkles his shirt. He hasn’t planned what he should say, but he continues anyway. “I think you’ve reached a faulty conclusion, though I’m unsure what.”

At last, Okiura-san stops moving, although he still doesn’t look at him. Not much granted, but it’s progress.

“I’ve been…lost in my anxiety,” Fuuta continues, forming slow, painstaking sentences, hoping that with every word, the next one doesn’t break the momentary peace. It’s unsurprising Okiura-san caught his anxiety, with his predisposition for it. That said, the cause—“Whatever you believe I’ve noticed, trust me, I haven’t.”–he does not know what is.

Contrasted by how obviously his shoulders relax, Okiura-san’s sigh borders inaudible. The couch creaks and bumps against the back wall as he shifts to face Fuuta, and when their eyes meet, Fuuta stifles a mental groan that even in this situation, his heart rate jumped like he’s still a schoolboy. “Can I ask what’s on your mind?” Based on the subtle tremor in his voice, Okiura-san’s insecurity has yet to dissipate. “You often listen to my repetitive ramblings, so…I’d like to return the favor.”

Truthfully, Fuuta longs to say no, to switch the conversation back to whatever Okiura-san is worried about. Isn’t that a better conversation? But he can’t. He won’t. “Alright.” It was his fault, so he should go first. No matter how stressful that may be. “Truthfully, I was wondering whether I should keep doing this.”

Bang! Okiura-san’s knee collides with the table.

Okay! Okay! Poor phrasing! Bad start, bad start, bad start, awful phrasing! “Not your fault!” I’ve dug a deeper hole! How do you talk about this without sounding accusatory? Fuuta is glad he never let go of that wrist, even if the tugging grows more insistent. “I can’t provide what you’re looking for anymore.”

“Amanoma-san, I—”

Is nothing he’s said correct? “Please listen.” Was talking to another person always so complicated?

“But—”

“I don’t want you to leave,” Fuuta blurts. Well, that certainly won’t help, but he doesn’t stop. “Not now, or in the dark, when you think I’m asleep.” He’s certain this is the wrong answer entirely, yet Okiura-san has stilled. His eyes are fixed on a poster on the wall behind him; he dare not look elsewhere. I want to meet at places other than Marble. To grab lunch despite that meeting up eats into our break. For calls to last longer than perfunctory scheduling. When you kiss me, I want it to mean something. He does not say any of that. “I always want you to stay.” This is more than enough.

The usual saxophone crooning on the radio only serves to punctuate the silence hanging in the air between them. Every beat, every note is a phrase too long of nothing. What is Okiura-san thinking right now? A way to turn him down while apologizing profusely? Does he want to leave? Ah. Right. I should let go. Fuuta’s grip slackens, yet nothing happens.

“Amanoma-san. I’m a divorcé.”

Here it comes.

“You deserve more than me. Far better.”

Of course, he’d do it like this. Cast himself as an unlovable devil if it means even one of Fuuta’s feelings remains unbruised. He inhales—5…4…3…2…1—and wrenches his gaze off the movie poster, back to Okiura-san’s face.

“If you knew the things I’ve done—”

It won’t do; devils don’t exist, after all. “You don’t need to spare my feelings.”

“That isn’t my intention. Rather…” Okiura-san trails off, wearing a familiar worried frown; it’s never suited him. Fuuta waits for him to continue, but he never finishes his thought. Instead, a different one returns. “You really didn’t notice.”

“Eh?” I haven’t experienced this much whiplash since I visited Bloom Park as a teen.

Okiura-san’s wrist slips out from under him, but not—as Fuuta once expected—for him to leave. “I said it the very first night,” he says. A rare and hesitant smile graces his lips, just as both of his hands cup Fuuta’s cheeks. “I like unusual things.”

Oh. Fuuta’s breath catches in his lungs, and Okiura-san’s eyes glitter with wonder. I’ve never seen that before; he may yet see it again.

When Okiura-san kisses him, it is the same as it always was. Okiura-san still pulls Fuuta to meet him, still tastes like bourbon and vanilla chapstick, still fiddles with the high neckline of his shirt, and yet somehow it’s different. Renewed. Like how fruit fell from trees before man ‘discovered’ gravity. Nothing changed, it only became clearer. It’s the maxim Pewter lives by, found in the most unreasonable of places.

Though he knows they have more to discuss, obstacles yet to be overcome, in this moment, brief and luminous, he doesn’t care. He's sick of worrying. Amanoma Fuuta is not a rational man, and sometimes that’s a beautiful thing to be.

#jupewter #renju okiura #pewter #aitsf #ai the somnium files #pewter aitsf #hope.txt #my fic #MAN #IT TOOK A WHILE CAUSE IM SO OUT OF PRACTICE #BUT #HERE YOU GO #I hope you enjoyed it #I had so much fun writing it #these two bitches are so fucking messy and I love them #i'm not putting a read more on this fuck you #ai series

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