#otp: two countries; one spirit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bbrandy2002 · 3 years

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Happy Birthday Burnsy!

The Country AU -- I'm Gonna Live Where The Green Grass Grows

Pairing: Drake x Alyssa, Liam x Riley, and a whole host of other TRR characters.

A/N: This was a silly little idea I had months ago for an AU built around the places and people where I grew up. I never had plans to actually write it, but I mentioned it to Burns, and well ... she wanted it lol so here we are. And she’s already read half of this and is the one who made the mood board for it and the song inspo hahaha. Thank you to @mskaneko for the edits of our OTP’s, and @charlotteg234 for pre-reading the first half of this.

Trigger warning: Gun usage, hunting, mild language ... I think that’s it

@burnsoslow

My dearest friend, when I think back at where we were one year ago, I can’t help but be reminded of the vastly different world we live in now. On February 5, 2020, there was no covid keeping us sheltered and fearful, families were complete, jobs were stable, and so many of the things we worried about then simply pale in comparison to now, Life wasn’t so bad. But here we are with all these new changes and mindsets. Through it all, one thing remained consistent: YOU. You have been my strength, my rock, the anchor that grounded me. We have cried together, laughed a lot together, worried for each other, and celebrated those small victories that were important to each other. And I get so happy when someone comments about how much they love the friendship between Riley and Alyssa because it's the most real part of Fearless. If anyone ever wanted to know what we’re like, it's all written out in that story. I’ve got your back, and you have mine. You’re my best friend and I just love the hell out of ya! I hope your birthday is amazing and that this fic is everything you wanted for this AU.

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On Sunday mornings in southern Georgia, you did one of two things: You woke up early for church services or woke up late to watch NFL football.

Some people figured out a long time ago how to do both.

Sitting in the back pew of the First Cordonian Church of Everlasting Peace, Alyssa Walker sat quietly with the sweetest southern belle smile, nodding her head along to the beautiful words spoken during Pastor Hakim’s sermon and hiding a pair of earbuds lodged in each ear.

She and her husband, Drake, had laid claim to the pew when they were teens trying to sneak a kiss or two during prayers. After ten years of marriage, they no longer needed to sneak kisses but stayed in that same seat, believing the biggest sinners should stay as far away from the minister as possible. Why be the barrier that may prevent the spirit from reaching the rest of the congregation? The couple felt it was the least they could do.

They were actually pretty good folks and well respected in their community. Alyssa had taught first grade for eight years at the local elementary school, where her two children, nine-year-old Audrey and six-year-old Patrick, also attended. Her best friend since third grade, Riley, was the art teacher there.

Drake worked nearby as the lead mechanic at Rys and Sons Chevrolet out on North Ramsford Avenue. Constantine had owned the auto dealership for 35 years before passing it down to his sons, Leo and Liam, when he ran for and became the town's mayor. Leo peaced out, heading to South Florida, while Liam took on the sole responsibility of ownership himself.

And while most people in this sleepy little town of Cordonia were Falcons fanatics, Alyssa grew up rooting for the team where her parents were born and raised before settling in Georgia as newlywed lawyers: The Chicago Bears.

With the game against the Packers blaring into her ear, she kept a keen eye on the rest of her fellow parishioners. When they clapped, she clapped. When they sang, she sang. She raised her hands in hallelujahs when they did. She had learned to read lips and could “Amen” and “Praise God” right on cue with the rest of them. All the while, she sat in contentment, listening to her weekly football games.

“The score with 14 seconds left in the second quarter is Chicago -- 14, Green Bay -- 17. The Bears have the ball on the 5-yard line. It’s third and goal. If Trubisky can score here, they’ll go into the locker room at halftime with a lead for the first time in this game, or possibly tie it all up with a field goal after this down. This is a huge, HUGE play, Jim ...”

Alyssa twined her fingers together and lowered her forehead onto them as she waited with bated breath for the announcer to call the play-by-play. As far as anyone else knew, she was praying fervently for the Hebrews crossing the parted Red Sea away from Pharoah's army that the pastor was chronicling.

“And here comes the snap. Trubisky backs up. He tosses to Robinson in the end zone. OHHH! So close… batted away by Alexender …”

“JESUS!” Alyssa yelled out in anger. With earbuds in, she didn’t realize how loudly that just came out of her mouth. Drake nudged her in the thigh. She glanced over at him for a second before he nodded to the 123 pairs of eyes that had all turned at once in her direction. It instantly dawned on her that everyone in the congregation heard the outburst.

Feeling the color drain from her face, Alyssa placed a hand over her chest and addressed, “I am soooo into this sermon, Hakim. Woohoo! Go, Jesus, go!” She pumped her fist in the air like she was rooting him on.

Drake dropped his face onto Patrick’s shoulder, who was sitting on his lap, to cover the incessant laughter that threatened to spill out of him. He was doing a terrible job of it, as a momentary burst of muffled snickers could be heard through the sound of the game playing in Alyssa’s ear. Her husband was nothing but a big kid himself -- she wouldn’t change that for anything.

“Mommy,” Audrey whispered next to her. “It’s about Moses. Not Jesus.”

Alyssa smiled, patting her daughter’s knee. “Same thing, baby. They both performed miracles.” She cut her eyes to the phone hidden under the cardigan draped across her thighs. “And the Bears need a miracle right now, guys,” she muttered, “Part those shithead Packer’s defensive line, Lord. It’s time to help my Bears get to the promised land.”

“Going for it on fourth down, Trubisky drops back. The Packer defense is putting a lot of pressure on the Bear’s offensive line. Every man is covered in the end zone. He has no one to throw to, Jim. They’re running out of time. Four seconds left. And, NOOO, they sack Trubisky on the 10-yard line … WAIT THE BALL IS LOOSE … THE BALL IS LOOSE ... he fumbled the ball. The Packers are scrambling to get it. There are green and white jerseys all over that ball. BUT LOOK … Green Bay’s Klark picks it up. He’s running the other way … and he just slipped … he just slipped, and the football fell right into the hands of Chicago’s Robinson --”

Alyssa grabbed Drake’s thigh, her fingers digging deeply with hope and panic. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” her stressed words weren’t audible to the crowd, but they were speaking volumes in her heart.

“--Robinson’s on the 20, now 15, he’s sweeping past the defense to the 10 -- 5 -- TOUCHDOWN, CHICAGO!!!”

"FUCK YES!" Alyssa jumped up, her arms outstretched in a V shape. “Hallelujah. Holy shit. Thank ya, Jesus.” She let out a huge sigh of relief, feeling nothing short of elated, not concerned in the slightest by the heads that twisted around again.

Hakim stood slack-jawed from the raised platform for a moment, his tallish physique slouching on the pulpit, before adjusting the microphone and clearing his throat deeply. "I'm certainly glad, Sister Alyssa is ... feeling the spirit this morning."

"I am feeling it, Brother Hakim," She shook her head profusely. "I. Am. Feeling it." She shot him a dimpled grin.

Drake snorted loudly, covering his face with one hand and grabbing the side of her dress to pull her back down with the other.

They turned to each other, neither one able to control the snickering and shaking of their bodies. Drake lifted a sleeping Patrick over his shoulder while Alyssa grabbed Audrey's hand; the Walker couple decided they were too immature for church this morning.

They laughed all the way to the parking lot.

"It's never a dull moment with you, baby girl," Drake chuckled, turning over the ignition.

"You know me …” She blew on her nails before rubbing them against her chest. “... just doing the Lord's work."

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

It was customary in Cordonia for families to gather together each week for a big supper after church.

The Walkers traditionally took turns hosting with Liam and Riley, and Constantine and Regina. This week's meal was at the elder Ryses.

Sitting down at the dining room table, everyone licked their chops, hungry and ready to dig into all the made-from-scratch southern goodness Mrs. Regina had prepared: Fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, coleslaw, macaroni and cheese, green beans with hamhock, corn-on-the-cob, deviled eggs, biscuits, sweet tea, and coffee. It was all accompanied by two containers of broccoli salad, Alyssa picked up from the Piggly Wiggly deli after church, and Riley's lopsided carrot cake.

There was always a lot of food, a lot of love, and what would it be in a small town without a little gossip here and there.

"Regina, you've outdone yourself on this meal," Liam raved while placing his five-month-old son in a high chair and fastening the clasps. "If it tastes as good as it smells, we're all in for a big treat."

Everyone agreed as she sat down, Constantine pushing her chair in with a peck to the top of her head. "Thank you, Liam." She looked up at her husband with a sincere smile, rubbing his arm. "Only the best for our family."

She meant every word of that as she and Constantine glanced around the table at all the cheerful faces of the people they loved most — that included Drake and his family.

Drake's father had been the sheriff for many years before his untimely death, while the younger Walker was a teen. Connie had never met a braver, more hard-working man than Jackson; the now mayor stepped in after that death to be the father figure in Drake's life. Drake was already best friends with Liam, and over time, the family just considered him one of their own. Drake and Alyssa's children referred to them as Mamaw and Papaw Rys.

As everyone settled in and passed the food around the table, the doorbell rang; 7-year-old Ellie -- Liam and Riley's oldest -- jumped up to answer it. With everyone focused on getting their helpings, Riley leaned over and whispered to Alyssa, "Any more scoop on Savannah?"

Alyssa passed the potatoes to her and answered in a hushed tone, "I drove past her house yesterday ... Chuck was there. His big rig was backed right up into the driveway. They're not even trying to hide it anymore."

"I knew it." Riley slapped a scoop of potatoes onto her plate, passing them across to Liam. "When does Bertrand get back from that Bankers Convention in Atlanta?"

"I think Max said on Tuesday. And I guarn-damn-tee, Chuck will be there until then."

"Of course he will. Have you told Drake yet?"

Alyssa shook her head, peeking over at her husband, who was in hog heaven, dousing everything on his plate with white gravy, blissfully unaware of their idle chitchat. She turned back to Riley. "Not yet. You know how protective he is. I'll need to hide the gun cabinet keys when he finds out ... if he finds out. You remember how upset he got when Bianca got caught at the Love's Truck Stop with Landon Ebrim over the summer. His mama can do what she wants, but not with a married man."

Riley agreed with a nod before taking a sip and swallowing her sweet tea. "Ya know, I've never seen sweet Emmaline that angry."

"Yeah, me neither. She sure whopped ass that day." They both giggled lightly. "Landon's dentures flew clean across that truck lot."

"I saw her the other day at the Food Lion, grinnin' like a baked possum. Got that ol' dog for everything he had."

Alyssa huffed, "Cept' his nuts."

Ellie ran back in and hopped in her chair. "Miss Olivia is here!"

Alyssa stiffened, clutching her fork a little tighter before letting out a faint groan. Not that she didn't like the Assistant Principal of Cordonia Elementary -- she was her boss, after all, and they grew up together -- she could just be a little off-putting, sometimes with her treatment of Drake. In light of Olivia's recent divorce, she had, however, started directing most of her scorn on her ex-husband, Anton.

Everyone greeted Olivia as she strolled in behind the youngster, shrugging her jacket off and tossing it on a counter with her purse. "I smelled your chicken and taters all the way from Lythikos Drive, Regina. You know how I love a good rib stickin' meal."

"Is Travis and Waylon here?" Patrick piped up eagerly from the children's table, hoping to have some boys to play with rather than the three little girls who kept ganging up on him.

Olivia pulled out a chair and started loading her plate down. "They're with their daddy this weekend, sugar. I'll tell them you asked about them."

Drake lifted his coffee mug, not making eye contact with anyone. "Speaking of ... I saw Anton yesterday at the Dollar Tree ... with someone." He smirked into his drink. While everyone else knew who and was trying to avoid the elephant in the room, he owed her for years of squabble.

"Who? Madeleine?" Olivia spat, adding heaping spoonfuls of sugar to her already overly sweetened tea. "Bless her rotten heart, he was seeing her before our break up. Moved in with her right after the divorce was final, so I hope she's enjoyed cookin' and cleanin' after my youngins' all weekend, cause she's gonna be doin it a hell of a lot more now that she got herself fired."

Madeleine was a bank teller in the drive-thru at First Cordonia and also Leo's ex-fiancee.

"Madeleine got fired?" Alyssa asked in surprise. "She's been there for years."

The redhead swirled the sugar around in her tea with a spoon before licking it off and continuing, "Mmm-hmm. Bertrand caught her on video, stuffing her gaudy drawers into the vacuum tubes at the bank and sending them to that bastard when he drove through to make a deposit. He was making deposits alright. Right between her scrawny, cankled ass --"

"Olivia!" Liam quickly interjected, knowing once she got going, it would likely turn R-rated with several little ears listening. "I'm dying to hear how the Christmas Festival for next Saturday is coming along." He shot a look across the table at Drake for getting her worked up. Drake simply grinned.

By late afternoon, supper had been eaten, dishes cleaned, and pants unbuttoned. After a couple of hours of chatting on the back porch and watching the kids play, the two younger couples packed up leftovers Regina insisted they take home and were ready to hit the road.

Liam and Riley lived next door and walked out with the Walkers who were making their way to the Tahoe parked on the street.

Alyssa bounced and cooed over baby Jacob before handing him back to Riley and getting into the vehicle's passenger seat.

Liam was leaning into the driver's side window, having a casual discussion with Drake about the opening day of deer season next Saturday and asking what time he wanted to head out.

Alyssa was half-listening and half-working the stereo when an idea popped into her head. "You know what would be fun?” Both men stopped talking and glanced over at her. “We should all go?”

Drake knit his brows. “Go where?

“Hunting. We can make it a double date. You and me, Riley and Liam. The great outdoors. Some quality time together. I’ll even make snacks for everyone. It’ll be fun,” her voice was chipper. She was excited about it.

She was also deadly serious.

So were the dubious looks Drake and Liam gave each other over the thought of taking their wives on the most important hunting event of their year. Not that either didn't enjoy spending time with their significant others, but hunting was a whole different world. It was a one-person sport where you spent the day away from reality and responsibilities and just enjoying the great outdoors —a place to be alone and experience the thrill of a good hunt.

“Guys, I’m serious. We go fishing together, and I’ve shot targets plenty of times. I really wanna go hunting with you. Riley wants to go too, don't you?” She cast an inquisitive glance out her window at Riley, who glared back with the biggest what-the-fuck look she'd ever made. “See, she wants to go too.”

“Baby,” Drake began softly, giving her knee light squeezes. “I don’t mind taking you, but this is opening day. We’ll be in the woods for hours, in the cold. It’s not really what someone would consider a ‘date.’ And we’re going to the Festival that night … we’ll get a chance to spend time together there.”

She held his gaze as her lips began to quiver. “I understand. You .. you need time to be away from me, and it was a dumb idea anyway --”

“No,” Drake cut in. His heart plummeted from the sadness in her voice and eyes. “That’s not it at all. I love spending time with you. And if you really want to do this, then … let’s do this.”

“Really? We can go together?” Drake nodded with a smile before she squealed in his ear and pulled him into a tight hug. “I can’t wait! Thank you!”

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Liam let out a heavy breath as he looked over at Riley -- The woman he knew would not be a fun hunting partner next week -- still standing on the sidewalk, appearing like she might faint. “Yeah ... I can’t wait either.”

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

Saturday. 5:15 a.m. The cellphone alarm on Drake’s bedside table let off a series of rhythmic beeping sounds and vibrations.

The alarm wasn’t needed. The man had been awake for hours, listening to his wife's gentle snores; the anticipation of bringing home at least a 12-pointer keeping him from falling back asleep.

Letting out a ferocious yawn and a hearty stretch, he picked up his phone to dismiss the alarm and rolled over to wake Alyssa.

With her ass perfectly curled into the space between his stomach and thighs, his hands settled on her curvy hip, jostling her slightly. “Time to get up, my little peach. We gotta get crackin’ before all the good deer are gone.”

“I just need one more hour, okay? Thanks,” she protested with a drowsy murmur, pulling the pillow over her head.

Drake chuckled, rubbing soothing circles over her back. “No. We have to get up now. We’re wasting time, sleepyhead. Unless … you don’t want to go.”

Alyssa’s heavy eyes stung as she tried to peel them open one at a time. “No, I wanna … go ...” she trailed. Her eyes slowly shut again, and she was out.

On a day like today, Drake was usually up and ready in ten minutes. Once he could finally get his wife out of bed, dressed, and back awake again from where she fell asleep on the toilet, it was close to 45 minutes.

Maxwell, who was also a childhood friend and the music teacher where Alyssa taught, rented the room over their garage. He agreed to come down that morning and watch the kids while the pair spent their morning in the woods. Bianca used to help out in that regard, but the kids complained she slept the whole time, and Alyssa was pretty sure her mother-in-law smoked pot around them.

Drake loaded up the truck, placing his rifle and a smaller .22 caliber for Alyssa behind the seat. Dragging herself slowly to the vehicle, the night sky still pitch black and her breath turning to thick vapors in the frigid air, she listlessly tossed a Taylor Swift tote bag on the floorboard and climbed in.

Drake looked at his phone after everything was packed up to see if Liam had sent a message about being late. It was unusual for him not to be there already. Typically, his best friend was up and at his house before Drake was even ready. He sent off a quick text to check.

Drake: Where you at, man?

Liam: Running late. Riley had to put makeup on and do her hair.

Liam: I’m having so much fun already 😑

Liam: snark

Drake: Lyss couldn’t decide which gloves looked the best with her orange vest. I guess she wants to impress the deer before she kills them.

Liam: We’re not catching deer today. We’ll be lucky if we catch a cold. Be there in 10.

Twenty minutes later, Liam’s gray Silverado pulled onto the Walker’s gravel drive. Riley had wanted biscuits and gravy from McDonald's, and she had to run back inside to pee, so that set them back. But, with everyone now there, they were finally ready to head out.

Just down the rural road from where Drake and Alyssa lived, the current sheriff of Cordonia, Bastien, owned several acres of unoccupied land that he used for recreation. He had been a close friend of Drake’s dad and agreed to let Drake and Liam hunt and fish on his property whenever they wanted.

Turning onto the dirt road and opening the gate, the four friends arrived at their spot just as dawn was breaking.

No one spoke much as they trekked through the mud, sticks, and brittle fall leaves that littered the path to the deer stands. Riley and Alyssa were too exhausted to say anything. Drake and Liam just weren’t used to talking at all.

"Riley, love,” Liam whispered softly. “Can you watch how you’re walking? The noise is going to scare the deer away.”

“I can’t help it if … " She reacted loudly in frustration before Liam placed a finger over his lips, and she resumed speaking more quietly. “I can’t help it if there're leaves everywhere. I’m walking on them as delicately as possible.”

“How much further? I think my toes are frozen and I need coffee.” Alyssa bemoaned while walking on the balls of her heels. Drake was basically dragging her sluggish body by the hand. Her eyes were still drooping from exhaustion with every careful step.

“Just over yonder of that fence row is our stand.” He pointed out.

Alyssa aimed her flashlight around the woods in several spots. "And where do we pee at?"

Liam lightly snorted as Drake answered matter-of-factly. "Just over yonder of that fence row below our stand."

"Oh ... " her tone was small and apprehensive, "... I guess that's ... okay." She glanced back timidly at Liam, who was following close behind.

He shielded his eyes from the beam of her flashlight in his face and frowned. "I'm not going to watch you pee, Alyssa."

Riley gasped, "Eww! I don't want Drake watching me pee either."

"Shhhhh." Liam was quick to remind her again of the volume of her voice.

"Stop, shushing me, Liam! Those deer don't know I'm out here."

Drake grunted, then whipped around to face the three of them. "Would you keep your voices down? No one's watching anybody take a piss," he whisper-yelled. "Lyssa and I will be at least a hundred yards away from ya'll. Riley, I promise you can piss your little heart out, and I won't see it."

"We're separating?" Alyssa asked wistfully. "What if I need to ask Riley something, and she can't hear me yelling across to her?"

"You'll just have to ask her when we're done, baby girl. And ... please don't yell questions to her while we're out here. Low voices."

They continued on with their noisy hike.

"Having so much fun," Liam grumbled to himself.

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

Liam and Riley headed to their tree stand as Drake helped Alyssa climb up the ladder to theirs.

The stand and ladder were made of plywood -- chipped and faded from years of exposure to the elements -- and were attached at the apex to an oak tree about twenty feet off the ground. At the top it had enough room to take a step onto, with a wooden seat just wide enough to accommodate them. One plank rail came out on both sides.

Alyssa plopped down onto the seat, clutching her tote bag of goodies on her lap. She lifted the brim of the orange beanie she borrowed from Drake -- that smelled of animal carcass and gun powder -- above her eyes and peered out to the wilderness spread monumentally below. She closed her eyes and slowly inhaled the fresh, dewy air, taking in the sounds of twittering birds, branches clashing from the nearby squirrel frolicking on them, and the rippling of a bubbling brook streaming down the hill.

A pleasant warmth overcame her as Drake's much larger body sat down next to her and protected her from the frosty wind blowing in from his side.

Alyssa wrapped her arms around his waist, snuggling into him. "I can see why you like this so much. It's so quiet and peaceful ... look how purty it is out here, Drake. It's just real purty, isn't it?"

Working diligently on getting their gear together, he stopped briefly to look out; affection glowed in his eyes. “It sure is, darlin’. Almost as purty as you ... and notice I said 'almost.'” He winked, and Alyssa blushed, feeling that same love trickling up inside her she'd had since they were teenagers. Drake could charm the pants off a chipmunk, but she was thankful he only used that gift on her.

"Sooo ... " She drawled in her thick Southern accent. "How long will it be before the deer start coming out?"

Drake drew the barrel of her gun back after loading it with shells and explained, "Don't know. It could be minutes. It could be a few hours. Just whenever they head this way, I reckon."

Perplexed, Alyssa nodded slowly. "A few hours? I s'pose that's okay. What do you do while you're waiting?"

He shrugged, passing a gun to her. "You just ... sit here."

"You just sit here and do what?"

Drake leaned over to kiss into her orange cap and replied, "Wait."

"Wait." She acknowledged. "I can do that. I'll just sit here ... and wait."

Several minutes had passed, and Alyssa was already bored with listening to nature, Drake's gurgling stomach, and sitting quietly with nothing to do. Every so often, a shotgun blast was heard in the distance, signifying either someone out there had gotten their prize or Riley had driven Liam insane. It was the only break from the monotony that came with the boredom of sitting in a tree for who knew how many hours.

Letting out a giant exhale that caught Drake's attention, she propped her rifle against the railing and pulled the cloth tote that was sitting between her boots into her lap. Rummaging through the bag, she pulled out her phone and began thumbing out a message.

Drake furrowed his brows and asked, "What're you doin'?"

"Just texting Riley,' she answered dismissively. He shook his head and leaned it back against the tree while she formulated her message.

Alyssa: You still alive over there? How's it going?

Riley: This is boring as shit.

Riley: And now my texting is apparently scaring away the deer. F the deer Liam. F all the damn deer!!!! What were you thinking, Lyss?

Alyssa: I was thinking we could spend quality time with our husbands. The men we love and cherish with all of our hearts. I’m having a great time with Drake so far 😍😘

Alyssa: And no one twisted your arm to come bitch.

Riley: Liam's just staring through binoculars. He hasn’t spoken in 20 minutes except to tell me to point the gun away from him or to quit moving. Let’s go get our hair did at Adelaide's.”

Alyssa: OHHH Yes! And get Chinese food ... CRAB RANGOONS!! I'll have Drake drive us back. Girls Day Out. Love you!

Drake let out a belch and blew it away when Alyssa turned to him with a dazzling smile and a sparkle in her blues. "Can you drive Riley and me back to the house?"

"What? Right now?" he shrieked. She answered him with a cheerful nod. "What happened to all that talk about wanting to spend quality time with me?"

"I still do. But ... we're just sitting here, not really doing anything. I could be getting my hair done for tonight's festival. I also have a ton of laundry to do, some papers to grade, and I’m supposed to be making the Devereaux’s famous peach cobbler for the raffle. If I leave now, I’ll have time to do all of it.” Alyssa knew she probably wouldn’t do half of that, and Audrey would likely make the cobbler, but it made the situation sound more urgent.

"It's opening day, baby. I'm not leaving this spot." He reached into the pocket of his overalls and pulled out his keys. "If you and Riley wanna take my truck, I'll ride back with Liam."

She gave him an exasperated look. "I don't know my way back to the truck. And I sure as hell know Riley doesn't."

He smirked, stuffing his keys back. "Then you're stuck."

The next hour was brutal. Alyssa texted Riley to alleviate the boredom for several minutes, but there had been no responses in a long while. She wasn't aware that Liam tossed her friend's phone over the hill when she started making TikTok videos of her plight -- Liam took his deer hunting seriously: No noise meant no noise.

Drake wasn't much better; he was quieter than his usual self. It wouldn't have been so bad if she could at least talk. An occasional whispered word was not going to cut it.

Alyssa sighed heavily. She wiggled around for comfort. She unwrapped a Nutty Bar. She crunched. She opened a can of pop. She tapped her fingers. She flipped the pages of a magazine. Each one got that look from Drake that let her know it was too loud. If she ever made it out of there, she planned to jabber and stir until she couldn't do it anymore.

After another half-hour of stewing quietly in her thoughts without a sign of a deer anywhere, Alyssa decided now was the time to finally just talk.

"Do you ever think about having another baby?" It was a topic that had been on her mind for a while. To her surprise, Drake didn't give her a look or even freak out the way she anticipated. Despite his own rule of silence, he even responded in kind.

"Yeah. Kind of a lot."

Her right brow darted up. "Really?"

Drake took a breath and shifted the gun across his lap. "I mean, of course. It's always been my dream to settle down and have a bunch of youngin's with the woman I love." He studied her lit-up face; he'd swore she'd gotten more beautiful with age. That's why he hesitated when he added, "But ... "

Her shoulders slumped at his words, and a deflated look impressed upon her face. "But ... " The word barely made it past her lips.

Drake reached for her hand and gripped it tightly. "Lyssa, we have so much going on right now. You're working on National Boards, Audrey has piano recitals and basketball, Patrick has peewee football and Boy Scouts. We barely have time -- except for right now -- for just ... us. I'm not saying,"never"... just that right now ... isn't a good time."

"I understand that, but ... we've always made it work. And don't you miss those tiny little fingers wrapped around yours? And the way they smell fresh out of the bath? And those chubby little cheeks pressed up against yours?" she goaded.

“Of course I do. I remember the first time I held Audrey and PJ in my arms -- there’s just no better feeling in the world than ...to look down ... " Drake paused as his voice cracked, and his brown eyes glistened like glass. " ... and to see someone so small ..." When she sniffled, it made it that much harder for him to speak. "... that you created with the woman you've loved since you were 16 years old. But I like who they are now, and watching them grow, and doing things with them ... And, well ... there’s no shit clean up.”

“You obviously haven’t washed Patrick's clothes in a while,” Alyssa retorted with a chuckle that brought out one in her husband.

"I’ll have to talk to him about that." He gazed deeper into her eyes. "But I do love you ... more than all the peaches in Georgia, Lyssa Claire.”

Alyssa smiled.“That’s what you said to me when you promised to marry me when we were teens.”

Drake returned his own smile. “I did. I remember like it was yesterday too. Sitting in your parent’s basement, watching Friends reruns, eating pizza, making out. And hell, it’s still as true today as it was then. Somehow, even more."

Their cold lips parted and joined halfway for a fervent kiss, with Drake's hand meandering around the subtle groove at the junction of her waist. Just as it became more intense and desirous, a rustling of twigs off in a nearby thicket caught Drake's ear, and he broke away, his eyes scoping the perimeter. Alyssa wasn't offended, she heard it too, and her heart raced with excitement.

Lifting the binoculars hanging from his neck, he spotted two deer eating from a blackberry patch some thirty yards away. He pointed in their direction; Alyssa gave a quick thumbs up, letting him know she saw them too.

Drake carefully lifted the rifle resting in his lap as Alyssa leaned forward and squinted to get a better visual. "Is that a buck and a doe?" she whispered, not moving an inch.

"Sure as fuck is." He mounted the stock of his .30 caliber, Winchester, just beneath his collarbone; the rush of this moment coursed ravenously through his body. He lined up the scope and placed a steady finger on the trigger -- his thumb pulling the hammer back.

“Wait.” Alyssa loudly whispered. “You can’t shoot him.”

"I'm gonna. Better cover your ears."

"No, Drake. There's a doe with him. What if that's his wife? You can't just leave her all alone without him."

"Lyss, this is the whole reason we're out here."

"So you can make a widow out of her?"

"No ... so I can make deer chili out of him."

Alyssa's mouth flew open. "No. No. RUUUUUUUUN! RUUUUUUN!"

Drake pulled his face away from the scope and fired her a look. "What the hell are you doing? They're getting away!"

She tilted her chin boldly. "I don't care. That was her husband, and they're in love, and you can't take that away from them. I would be so sad if we were just out eating berries and someone came up and shot you, ALL SO THEY COULD EAT DRAKE CHILI!".

Drake dropped his head. He knew there was no point in arguing with her. As long as he’d known her, she was stubborn, and at that moment, she was dead set in believing those two deer were living out the greatest romance of all time. Nothing he said or did would change her mind on that.

A thought emerged while he attempted to comprehend the logic of the situation. Those deer ran off in the direction where Liam was set up. Maybe if he could give his friend a heads up, it was still possible at least someone would leave those woods with the prized buck.

Turning his back from Alyssa so that she couldn't stop him, he pulled a small walkie-talkie from his pocket and radioed Liam. Alyssa knew what was up and jumped to her feet, thrusting her arms around him in an attempt to stop the travesty.

"You can't do this, Drake," she hollered, "That’s her soulmate. And why don't I have a walkie-talkie? I want a walkie-talkie!"

While seated next to Liam, Riley was swinging her legs, purposefully making the soles of her boots scrape against the platform. Liam tried to ignore her; maybe he had been a little too uptight about every little noise and utterance she made. But this was playing a whole different ballgame now: she was now making it her mission to piss him off.

Prepared to pound his head against the tree, Liam gritted his teeth, skimming his eyes in her direction. "Love, do you have to do that?"

"Did you have to throw my phone in the woods?" She spat back.

Liam rubbed his hand over his face. "No, and I am sorry that. I apologize for all of eternity. I promise I will get you another one as soon as we get back, okay?”

Riley huffed. "Fine, but that phone had all of my contacts on it. It had our babies' pictures and videos on it ... our vacation photos. I can't get those memories back ever, and I have to find it, and God only knows where it landed. It could be ..." She stopped rattling on when she caught sight of the distressed look Liam was giving her. Knitting her brows, Riley asked, "What?"

"Nothing ... just ... can you lower your voice a little? You're gonna scare the deer away,"

He regretted it as soon as it came out.

“LIAAAAM!”

He saw the steam gushing out of her ears. There was no time to answer the incoming call on his walkie-talkie from Drake.

Belting out a furious screech, Riley jumped up and tried to jerk the gun from his hands. There was no question she wouldn't shoot him, but she'd sure as hell shred his favorite gun apart piece-by-piece and toss them all the way to Portavira Lake on the other side of town.

Riley tugged with all of her might. "I have HAD IT with being quiet for those damn deer, Liam. HAD IT!"

"Sweetheart, you need to calm down ..." He stood up in front of her, pulling back on the rifle even harder, surprised -- and not pleasantly so -- his considerably smaller wife had this much struggle in her.

"Don't you sweetheart me. You have shushed me for the last time, Liam Preston Rys!"

“Okay, I’m sorry! But can you at least admit us fighting over a gun is dangerous? Somebody is going to get seriously hurt, and I don’t want it to be you, Riley. Please. I won’t shush you anymore, I promise.” His face softened, eventually adorning a loving smile at his wife, who, with a sigh, was unable to resist that handsome face and relaxed her grip.

Riley gave him a half-smile in return. “I’m sorry, too. I’ve ruined your hunting trip.”

“Yes ... you did.” Liam agreed, dodging the playful slap she nearly made to his upper arm. “But I don’t want to fight anymore.”

With the War of the Ryses finally over, they went in for a makeup kiss until Drake’s voice called out to Liam again through his walkie talkie. Liam set the gun down on the bench and leaned it against the tree before he started digging into his pocket to answer the device. Riley dropped down onto the seat, her elbow brushed against the rifle and caused it to slide away until the barrel end hit the railing and set off a powerful blast.

When the ringing in both of their ears subsided, and the smoke had cleared, Liam and Riley collected themselves from the sudden spine-gripping explosion that shook them both. While Riley explained to Liam what happened, a hysterical sounding Drake came back over the walkie-talkie, wailing, “Alyssa’s been shot! Alyssa’s been shot! Help me!”

__________________

Later that evening, in the courthouse square, the street was lit up with zig-zagged rows of red, green, and white lights. Strands of garland were wound around every lamppost in perfect spiraled loops, and red bows hung and waved with the wintry breeze.

With traffic rerouted away from the area, vendors lined sidewalks selling local goods to put the town's citizens in the festive spirit. What would this small town in Georgia have been without boiled peanuts, low country boil, fried green tomatoes, barbecue, and peach everything?

Once Constantine had lit the 30-foot spruce, surrounded by hundreds of merry people from all walks of life that made up this small community, the festival was officially kicked-off.

In a large tent set up on the square, Liam and Riley laid out styrofoam containers and drinks they’d purchased from a barbeque vendor on one of several picnic tables inside. With their two young daughters munching away on their meal, and the stroller with their sleeping son beside them, they both sat down with heavy hearts and restless minds.

Liam bit into his barbecue sandwich, noticing Riley only prodding at her mac-and-cheese while staring off into the distance. He didn’t have to ask what was wrong; he knew what happened that morning was bothering her with guilt and worry. It wasn’t every day she accidentally shot someone.

“Are you going to be okay?”

Riley shook her head slightly with a sad look. “No. It’s just not the same without Alyssa here. You know how much she loves Christmas and the festival. She was so looking forward to it too, until --”

“You shot her.”

“Yeeeeeesssss,” she cried out. Liam reached across the table and gave her hand a comforting squeeze, his thumb caressing her smooth skin. Riley continued to sniffle as she grabbed a handful of napkins and wiped the barbecue sauce off Liam’s sticky fingers that were now smeared all over hers. “I didn’t mean to, I swear it. And the way … and the way Drake cried. It broke my heart. Now he has her on bed rest AND house arrest. He won’t let her take calls. I’ll never see or hear from my bestie agaaaain.” The tears continued to flow in steady streams.

Liam stiffened, feeling the eyes of everyone in that tent, gawking at his overly-dramatic wife breaking down. He started to tell her to lower her voice, but after the gun battle in the woods, he thought better of it. “Riley, darlin’, you know Drake is really overprotective of Alyssa. And as scary as what happened was, she only needed the one stitch and band-aid for her graze wound. Something tells me Drake won’t be able to keep her down long.”

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

Liam was right. As much as Drake tried to keep her in bed so he could wait on her hand and foot, protect her from the careless friends of the world who could inadvertently do his baby girl harm, and check to see if she needed a new band-aid every few minutes, he could not keep her down. She had been far too excited to hang out with the people she loved so much and celebrate at one of her favorite festivals.

Maxwell had left for the events with Audrey and Patrick an hour ago; they were part of the children’s caroling group and needed to be there early. Against Drake’s wishes, Alyssa showered, got dressed, and made sure he knew in no uncertain terms would he be able to prevent her from going. The only thing he knew to do was to go, follow her around the entire night, and make sure she wouldn’t get shot again.

They circled the block where everything was held several times, but spaces to park were impossible to find. Three blocks away was the church where they attended, and the parking lot was completely empty. Drake didn’t like the fact that Alyssa would have to walk so far in her debilitated condition and was prepared to haul her piggyback style if he had to, but this was the best spot he could find.

Drake moved the gearshift into park and reached over to grab Alyssa’s arm, who was already bounding out the door. He pulled Alyssa back inside, the chilly air blowing through her open door swept her straighten hair this way and that way.

She cocked her head to the side and exhaled, “Drake, I can open my own door. I’m not broken. It’s just a scratch. I’m fine.”

“I know.” He smiled that tenderhearted smile only Alyssa had ever seen. The same one sending a shudder through her already chilled body. “I changed my mind,” he replied simply

Alyssa slammed her eyes shut and groaned. “I just told you I was fine --”

“No, no,” He shook his head. “About having another baby. I want to start trying.”

Saddled with curiosity, she slid back into the truck and shut the door. “But, I thought you said we didn’t have time for that --”

“Yeah, I did say that. I still believe it. But … today made me realize that yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today …”

Alyssa’s hand flew to her mouth as she laughed out loud. Drake gave her a confused look before chuckling awkwardly to himself, “What’s so funny?”

She lowered her hand, still laughing. “You got that saying from a quote on a poster in my classroom. You’re the one who hung it up for me.”

The memory dawned on him, and he lowered his head, attempting to cover the guilty grin that spread over it. “Well, hell. Here I was trying to make you think I was all insightful and smart and stuff.”

Alyssa’s hand splayed across his rugged chest as she leaned over to kiss him.“You are very insightful and smart. You know I never settle for anything less than the best.”

“I s’pose.” he said, forking his fingers through his hair. “But … I guess what I wanted to say was … I know that bullet missed you, barely … but what if it hadn’t? What if I’d left those woods without you today? Just like you were afraid that doe might. Time wouldn’t matter anymore. There will NEVER be enough time with you. You’re my life, Alyssa Claire. You’re my lover, my friend, my heart, my confidante, my soul, my everything … my little peach. I want to experience all that life has given me with you as my wife … and forever make time with you.”

“DRAAAKEY!” she bawled, spreading her tiny arms wide around his bulky body. Alyssa drew him into her so hard it nearly crushed the wind right out of his lungs. “I -- love -- you -- so muuuch!” Drake patted her back and kissed into her hair as she sniveled into his shirt. He hated when she cried, but damn if this didn’t feel good to him. Anytime she was happy made him that way too.

They took a moment to kiss and pet each other a little before Alyssa sat up and asked, “So … when do you want to start trying for a new baby Walker?”

He shrugged. “Whenever you want, baby.”

Alyssa looked through the back window of the truck and scanned the parking lot. She bit her lip and looked back at him impishly. “What about … now?”

Drake’s eyes flew open wide. “In the church parking lot?”

Pursing her lips, she affirmed, “Yes. We’ve done it behind the Piggly Wiggly plenty of times. And let's not forget the ‘Great Ass Blow-out of 2019’ in the Atlanta Convention Center parking garage.”

“I will never forget that.” Drake shook his head as that momentous sexual experience replayed in his mind. “Mmmm, you performed magic that day, woman.”

She raised a brow and coaxed him on, “So? What’dya say?”

Drake took a tentative look around at the dark, empty lot, then back at her. “We’re so going to hell, but I’m in.”

“Eeeeeee,” she squealed, jerking his arm around in excitement. “Try to keep your ass out of the window this time, okay?”

Thirty minutes later, Pastor Hakim pulled into the church parking lot with Mara, the game warden, following behind in her truck. There had been several reports from passerby’s of loud animals howling and screeching behind the church. The stray cat population was out of control in that area, and several cats had burrowed their way inside the church on occasion.

Hakim parked his car, with Mara pulling in beside him. They both got out simultaneously and listened quietly to see if they could decipher where the commotion was coming from.

Within seconds, a load moan roared out, followed by several consecutive whimpers that were hard to make out by the duo.

Mara listened intently, then gestured with her flashlight to an area near the back of the lot where clusters of shrubs and dry brush bordered. Hakim ambled behind her, the noise getting closer and closer until the pastor's brow furrowed at the shaking of a nearby truck.

“Damn, teenagers,” he grumbled as they tipped toed discreetly.

Mara crouched down by the truck's tailgate, Hakim bending over while she duck-walked toward the driver's side door.

The game warden turned to the pastor and instructed, “On my three. 1 -- 2 -- 3.” They both jumped up at the same time, flashing the light inside the cab. “HAHA Caught ya! OH MY GOD!”

Alyssa, who was on top of Drake, completely naked except for the band-aid on her left arm, looked up in utter humiliation and shock. She crossed her arms over her chest to cover her breast, feeling like she might faint. Not knowing what to say at that moment to rectify their actions or why those two were still staring inside the truck, Alyssa smiled sheepishly. “I’m still feeling the spirit, Hakim.”

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

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#drake x alyssa #Liam x Riley #gun usage #hunting

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risingsouls · 3 years

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Conversations: 5

[I finally finished this. They kept wanting to keep talking and I struggled to figure out where to end it :’3. So it’s a dumb end but fitting lolol. I also got to reference the one of my favorite things I’ve written about Vegeta which I will shamelessly plug here.

Also I edited this while like half asleep so forgive me for typos and shit.

Bonus end: Vegeta returns and carried her to her bed because I’m a sap and this is my OTP. ;3;]

“Want anything to drink?” Nabooru pulled the fridge open and leaned down, considering her own options. “I’ve got pretty much anything in here: water, juice, soda, alcohol.”

Vegeta lowered himself onto one of the couches, watching her disappear behind the island’s counter separating the kitchen and the living room. He folded his arms and crossed his right ankle over his left knee. “Whatever’s fine.”

When his day began, even after the tumultuous morning he suffered at Capsule Corp., he never would have imagined he would follow Nabooru home, spend time with her outside of sparring seated comfortably on her couch, or consider staying in the guest room she offered. To spare his pride at least for the first few times (if it became something regular at all; that_ he had yet to decide), he planned to train later than her and return while she slept. However, he had every intention of ensuring she made good on her promise and explain her earlier claim, her motive behind the almost too generous offer.

“Don’t think you’ve gotten out of answering my question from earlier.”

Truthfully, she hoped he had forgotten. She fished out a few bottles of water and considered the coming task at hand. Standing, she closed the refrigerator and opened the freezer, pulling out a barely touched bottle of whiskey. A gift from Nappa. “Of course you didn’t.” Opening the cabinet, she grabbed two glasses and filled them with the amber liquid. She wasn’t about to tell this particular story without a little help nor would she drink alone. She idly wished she had waited to change from her training clothes to the dull orange camisole and a pair of dark gray shorts; at least that would offer her another chance to stall.

She picked up each glass, holding them by the lip between her thumb and forefinger, and, after a second thought, tucked the bottle of whiskey beneath her other arm along with the pair of water bottles. “You sure you don’t want to change or something? Take a shower?” She placed one glass of whiskey and bottle of water in front of him on the circular table before taking a seat on the couch across from him on the other side. “I could probably talk to Lanu about potentially fixing your armor, too. She’s good at that sort of thing.”

“You’re stalling.” His glare slid from her to the drinks offered to him. He snorted when he caught a whiff of the alcohol. If her attempts to distract him weren’t evidence enough to it, the liquor more than solidified the fact that the story was not one she was fond of telling. It seemed to be their normal vein of conversation if the topic didn’t revolve around fighting. “I don’t have anything here to change into, and I’m not wearing your clothes or some other stupid suggestion you might come up with. Now talk.”

“Have you just been dwelling on this all day?” she huffed, disappointed her every tactic fell flat. She swirled the liquid around in the glass, considering where to begin. “I’ll have to give you a little background to how I ended up in that state of mind…”

She shrugged the stap of her tank top back up onto her shoulder. The story at hand would force her to delve back into her most painful memories. Those that started the unfortunate domino effect that forced her into tough scenarios and even tougher decisions. Many of which she wondered if she chose correctly and the potential alternates kept her up at night. Those loose ends left untied that niggled at her mind and perturbed her.

"You remember how I told you that our king had planned to overthrow Hyrule and likely take it over himself?"

Vegeta nodded once. Though most of those who thought they knew him best would protest, the Saiyan prince remembered more details about the people around him than he let on. As long as he deemed it useful or the more rare occasions he found it actually interesting. Her story fell under both categories.

Nabooru considered a swig of her whiskey but held off. Her chest felt too tight, even after all these years. It was almost laughable, her claims questionable. A woman whose very purpose in life for as long as she could remember was to serve and protect her people, to pull them from the deepening pit they found themselves in and better their lives and allow them something sustainable that didn't rely on scavenging and scraping by. Who had pride and passion in them, who admired their ambitious but equally passionate king committing the highest crime against the two things she held most dear.

"As his second in command, he trusted me with his plans. It started as a wild dream chasing an artifact I'm still not sure exists that could grant a wish to help us to...something darker. More dangerous. I saw him change right before my eyes over those years. He became obsessed, and the line between helping our people and securing power became blurry." Now she took a drink, the burn of it easily disregarded in conjunction with the pain of memory. "Our relationship aside, it worried me. It all felt dangerous and wrong, a power not meant for us or any other mortal. He not only endangered himself on this quest, but I saw how it could further endanger our people. The Hylians believed we worshipped our kings like gods anyway, so it wasn't a far leap for them to assume that, should Ganondorf fail or be found out, that we would rise up and try to finish what he started. Give them more reason to hate us and incite violence against us with a more solid stance than they held previously.

"Had we not suffered so much in the war, if Hyrule's alliances with the other races remained more tenuous and their hate for us was a little milder, maybe I would have had his optimism in the plan, knowing we could defend ourselves if things went wrong. I hadn't yet fully seen the walls we faced in resolving our differences diplomatically, and that is, unfortunately, where my optimism had lain. We argued plenty about his obsession with the Triforce, but it wasn't until I found out that, in order to obtain whatever he needed to gain access to it, he had attacked the other races when they wouldn't comply. Such show of force when we were all meant to be unified, such violence of degrees that could severely damage whole communities, wouldn't go unnoticed or swept under the rug. That is when I knew I had to stop him." She felt as though she was back in that moment in the Spirit Temple, face to face with Ganondorf for one of the last times. The weight of her decision to defy and actively try to stop him crushing. What that decision meant by their law.

"And I did try to stop him and sabotage his plans. I gave him the impression that, at his warning and what he considered mercy, I was self-exiling myself to avoid execution. I disappeared into the desert for several days before returning to our temple which he had since closed off to use as his base of operations. I defied the orders set that all Gerudo stay away from the temple, information I gathered from Aveil when I returned to the fortress first. None of them knew I had even been technically exiled, likely so he could save face and maintain the appearance that he wasn't up to something they might not like. But, when I returned to the temple, I was captured by his mothers and imprisoned, set to face trial for treason against our king and our people, the only things that truly mattered to me."

Sipping at his own drink, Vegeta didn't miss the twisting of her expression when she uttered the word treason. The pieces of her history were clicking together far more succinctly than they had with the first telling that lacked these more...personal details. He supposed they hadn't been needed to answer his first question about who filled the role of Frieza in her life to answer it sufficiently. He employed similar tactics when he could get away with the bare bones of the information, either to protect himself or avoid discussing matters he didn't care to or found irrelevant. Though he could not relate to her dismay of betraying her king and country, as he never got the chance to do so, and betraying Frieza hadn't required much emotional searching. All he had to fear was death for the attempt, and he never particularly felt alive during that time, anyway. She faced her entire people's scrutiny and the personal shame of turning on her king and by proxy them, which likely called her trustworthiness and allegiance into question. Among other things.

“And yet you weren’t executed, obviously.”

Nabooru sensed the hint of impatience; she supposed she should have warned him the preamble was a lengthy one. It wouldn’t deter her from telling the tale correctly. “No. I was given a trial and we both told our sides of the story. My service to the Gerudo in the past and genuine concern apparently helped me avoid outright execution, much to Ganondorf’s disappointment. He and the Elite instead sentenced me to the Kavi Dorova, a cave that leads to a series of unknown challenges. No one had ever survived it, so it was as good as a death sentence. On the off chance I did survive, I could return to the Gerudo with my rank intact.”

Vegeta snorted. “I take it your king had little faith you would survive, then. Or he planned to strip you of your rank on the off chance you returned despite the judgement.”

“I never got to find out,” she replied, chewing the inside of her lip. She drained her glass and refilled it. “He was gone by the time I healed up after the ordeal. Which is where your question comes into play.

“I don’t know how long I had been down there or how far I had gotten. Each fight was harder and felt more pointless than the last with more numerous and powerful monsters each time. Half of them I didn’t even recognize. I was starving, dehydrated, had sustained more injuries than I could count, and had almost been frozen to death by some ice beast. As I tried to rest, curled around the lone torch in the room for warmth, I was ready to give up. Nothing mattered to me any more. Not my pride or my people, not fighting or my talent as a warrior. None of it had saved me down there and I was ready to just perish. It would be easier than going on. Easier than facing the Gerudo again if I ever escaped that hell."

She rested her back against the cushions. "But...I was never one to just settle for easy. I was too stubborn to let that pit beat me. Somehow, I fought on. I remembered what my people had suffered and, despite the hole they tossed me into and a fair portion of them wanting me killed on the spot, I had dedicated my life to being a Gerudo warrior and protecting them. I convinced myself I had to get back and make good on that promise no matter what they thought of me.

"The last things I remember is nearly being gutted by a Darknut, stabbing him with its own sword, and dragging myself on the ground toward a light. Aveil said they found me barely alive outside the cave and losing a lot of blood. I woke up to finding out Ganondorf had been captured and arrested and that I would have to take over as leader."

The Gerudo's laugh was short, bitter, and she took another hearty swig of the whiskey. A position she never thought she would ascend to since a king sat on the throne in her lifetime. She wanted to feel honored, but the increasingly hostile environment she awoke to made the promotion a bittersweet one. Between a split tribe at home and fighting a losing battle for the barest of scraps to help her people abroad, it was a wonder how she didn't snap and lead them into that losing war anyway.

"It didn't take long for that confidence to waver. I quickly realized that the monsters down there were far easier to combat than those I found on the surface: I didn't feel guilty about killing them for my survival."

"Guilt is a pain, isn't it?" He smirked at her and poured himself another glass of the whiskey. "I'm sure you would have felt much more satisfied if you tore through the bastards that wronged you like you did those beasts in the pit. I may not have gotten Frieza, but I killed three of his best men who were almost as bad along with the better portion of his special forces."

To his surprise, Nabooru smiled herself, and she laughed softly. "I'm not sure there's a day that doesn't go by that I fantasize about it. That I don't play out potential strategies in my head that might have brought us success. I even drew a few up when I was bored once. Burned them but…" She trailed off and raised her hand, palm to the ceiling. An orange-to-yellow gradient ball of ki materialized atop it. "The others seem happy enough here. Safe might be a strong word, but learning ki has helped us stay protected."

Save for the one time they all died apparently. The lack of memory of that event still bothered her. Another story she wanted to press from Vegeta if she got the chance.

"If we had this knowledge back then...for our whole existence…" She closed her fist around the glowing energy, dissipating it in a small shower of sparks. "I wonder how things would have been different…"

The prince understood those longings, the constant wondering what could have been done better, what one aspect could change the outcome of his life. Back when he served Frieza and before. In more recent memory. He knew it was all pointless conjecture, and he suspected she did, too. But it didn't stop them from wondering about the lives they, perhaps, should have had.

"Chances are some bastard like Frieza or his brother Cooler would take interest in your warrior race and forced you into their servitude. And if you were lucky, they would leave more than a few of you alive to serve in their army." Lucky. he had come to despise that word since Frieza used it in regards to him not being blasted to bits with the rest of his race. "Lucky might be a strong word, though."

Nabooru sipped her whiskey, glad for the warmth and lightness it began to provide. She should stop, if only for the risk of facing the consequences in the morning, but, as if in direct defiance of her own thoughts, she finished off the glass and poured another. "You're probably right." Shifting to the side, she rested her weight against the arm of the couch and stretched her legs out to the side of her, tracing the rim of her glass with her finger. "Tell me about those guys you killed. Like how you did it. Maybe I can live vicariously through you."

“Is that how that works?” Vegeta snorted and drained his second glass, filling it again to join her on the third round. He wondered at the strength of this liquor. Earth’s typical fare didn’t usually affect him after two drinks. He wouldn’t describe himself as tipsy yet by any means, but he was willing to blame the alcohol for silently turning their casual conversation over drinks into a contest. “Fine.That was the better half of that damn trip to Namek…”

Before everything went horribly wrong, and, when he saw her tilt her head slightly to the side and her lips part to ask what he meant by that, he drew her focus back to the first request. Strange as it was, considering what he gathered from her thus far.

“Let’s see…” He raised a glove hand, casting the bare tips of a few of his fingers a fleeting glare. “I blew up Cui and Dodoria. Blew a hole through Zarbon.” He ticked each one off on his fingers. “I decapitated Guldo, knee dropped Burter in the throat, and blasted Recoome and Jeice to oblivion.” He decided not to mention that Recoome and Burter had been incapacitated by Kakarot in an impressive display of speed and strength prior to his finishing blows.

“Wow…” None of the names meant much to her, but she had no trouble believing those men who served a monster like Frieza so loyally possessed the same mindset he did. And if Vegeta found issue with them and he wasn’t exactly a glowing beacon of kindness and fairness, unless he was outright lying which she doubted on this, she had no reason to question that they had caused him and perhaps the other remaining Saiyans trouble while they were in Frieza’s service. “Sounds like you did have a good day, then.”

He draped his free arm over the back of the couch. “Did that satisfy you?”

Nabooru had to bite back a giggle, the haze of alcohol in her mind sliding it toward the gutter. “Not in the way I was hoping, unfortunately. But what made the rest of that trip so horrible?"

"Besides Kakarot becoming a Super Saiyan before me and killing Frieza?" He tapped his chest near his heart. "Frieza killed me. Don't give me that look. It didn't last long. Kakarot's idiot friends accidentally revived me with the Dragonballs because they wished everyone killed by Frieza and his men back to life. That included me."

Nabooru did her best to wipe the stunned expression from her face, and her gaze followed his hand. With a chunk of his armor missing, she could just make out the jagged edge of a faded scar. He really just didn't catch many breaks, did he?

She finished off the drink in her hand and set the glass on the table before slumping further into the couch to sprawl out more comfortably on her side. "For what it's worth, I'm glad they messed that up." The words left her lips before she could stop them, and, though she hated how sappy they sounded, she supposed the truth in them made them worth uttering. "I mean...we wouldn't have met otherwise, and I wouldn't have a training partner that could help me improve as much as you have."

“Hmpt, how flattering…” He didn’t doubt her words. With staging her tournament and with those who answered her call, she could have requested a sparring partner from many of the other combatants that would provide her at least entertainment if not a challenge to her unexpected strength. And with Kakarot there as well…

“Why did you ask me over Kakarot, anyway? You had the chance to ask him to train with you, and you didn’t.”

Nabooru propped her elbow beneath her and rested her head on her palm. The question wasn't out of place; even he begrudgingly admitted Goku surpassed him in strength, so it would make sense she seek out the most powerful person to train with. Instead, she had chosen him. Second place over first.

"It was just a guess, but I figured you would be a better trainer for me. Close to the hardened, take no prisoners style of training and fighting I'm used to. I doubted Goku would push me as far as you could. And after finding out that you and I had a similar story in some ways..." She shrugged a shoulder. "Besides, I guess I'm a little biased still after watching the two of you fight that clown android. I know Goku wasn't exactly at full capacity but...well, watching you tear that thing to scrap, feeling the drastic rise of your energy when you transformed...I guess it just stuck with me after all these years. Not to mention your performance in the Warrior Games."

Vegeta had forgotten she had shown up to that fight, no matter how briefly she remained among their band of eould-be heroes. He had been too focused on dismantling a couple androids to pay her much mind. Perhaps if he had, he would have had a competent sparring partner all this time. Decent company, too. His mindset had been so different back then, more erratic and laser focused on his one goal...would he have even bothered should she have asked him to train with her before she returned to her people that day? After the Cell Games? Had she sought him out before her own tournament?

“You were likely correct. Kakarot is too soft to properly train and spar with anyone. He would be too afraid of hurting you, even though you’ve proven you’re more than capable of taking hard hits.” Nabooru stifled a yawn, and the Saiyan noted her heavy eyelids with mild annoyance. “Are you drunk already, woman?”

She stretched languidly and giggled. “No, I’m just a little tipsy.” A slight fib; she had forgotten Nappa’s warnings and her own singular experience with the liquor he gifted her. The effects of it snuck up on her and caught her off guard each time. “Mind your own business. I’m fine.”

Vegeta rolled his eyes and stood, arching his back to stretch his spine. He finished off his drink and snatched up the bottle before she could try to make herself another. She reached out a whole two second too late to stop him and he snorted. “Your shit reaction time says otherwise.” He strode to the kitchen and slid the bottle back into the freezer. “Drink your water and go to bed. I’m going back out to train and no, you can’t come with me.”

Her whine devolved into another fit of giggles and she flopped onto her back. “Training I can’t help with, huh? Just let me know if you do need an extra hand.”

Vegeta paused with his hand on the door knob, the meaning of her suggestion dawning on him far too slowly. He swiped his other hand over his face. “Don’t be crude. Go to bed.”

She flipped him off with a lazy grin. “Goodnight, Vegeta. Don’t have too much fun without me~.”

He merely groaned in response and slipped back out into the cool desert night, door slamming behind him.

#:: nabooru ☀#// vegeta ♅#two dumb idiots is all this is #but i love them both #separately and together #and im a weak bitch #and for all you that know zelda #the kavi dorova is basically the gerudo translation i made up for the cave of ordeals #from twilight princess xD

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badass-at-fandoming · 4 years

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OTP Meme

Grabbed from @robotslenderman. Thank you! I liked learning about Arturo and Olivia. :D

I felt like a little pick-me-up so I decided to do this. Thank you @brightstorm98 for suggesting Beckett and Sergio.

Beckett is Beckett. Sergio is my original Malkavian ghoul character. You can read about them in my fanfic series, A Kinder Universe. Sergio first briefly appears in “Bad Idea” is the star of “First Date,” and pops up again in “Bonpensiero Bloodline Remix.”

Quick n’ dirty: Sergio is a former Prince of Sicilian Mafia, who faked their death and became an Los Angeles fashion designer and ghoul to a Malkavian. Sergio uses he/they pronouns.

DISAGREEMENTS.

Who is more likely to raise their voice?

Sergio. I kinda picture them as Dante’s Inferno with their temper. They run very hot, but their truest, purest anger is ice cold. That’s when bodies start dropping.

Who threatens to leave but never actually does?

I think it’s probably about even. It’s more of a “Maybe I should leave you be” sort of vibe. Both of them can recognize when it’s time to take a step back and cool off. Sergio would still let loose a couple invectives before leaving. Beckett more bottles it all up.

Who actually keeps their word and leaves?

Unless it’s a case of “I’m going to do a suicide mission so you don’t have to,” neither would actually leave the relationship. But they’re both independent spirits in a loose polycule, so there are periods where they’re not together. Sometimes Sergio doesn’t want to go places. For example, Liberteria is awesome, but it’s a chock full of blood-hungry, stinky Brujah, so Sergio would rather stay in Casablanca and party. Sometimes Sergio wants to focus on a different relationship, such as them and Cesare. Sometimes the projects one of them embarks on are of an extremely personal nature, so space is granted. Example: Sergio has no clue that Beckett is paying off that Giovanni scumbag to not hurt Emma’s ghost. Only Anatole has one inkling about that.

Who trashes the house?

Sergio. Listen! The mess is part of the creative process! They’re designing the next big sensation in fashion! It will be the talk of Paris! Please don’t touch the fucking scissors; they’re the only decent sharp ones. I KNOW they’re in a slipper, but that is the only place for them.

though lol @ beckett having a house aldkfjalkjgl

Do either of them get physical?

I assume this means during an argument? Sergio has a bad(?) habit of kissing Beckett to prove a point, or encourage him to agree.

How often do they argue/disagree?

I feel I’m being terribly boring here. A normal couple amount?? They’re both adults. They hash things out. A hot button topic would be safety. On a dare, Sergio will rush in where angels fear to tread. Beckett disapproves when Sergio breaks into places without telling him beforehand. But it was easy as pie! They turned invisible, picked the locks, decapitated some patriarchs, and whallah, they have the artifact he wanted! Stop looking at them like that, you know we will be out of the country before those wraiths can snitch. Also: I took their fetters.

Another hot button would be their mutual stubbornness. Sergio will insist they have the best idea. Beckett will think he’s right. They butt heads, and Sergio’s not above playing dirty, which is a whole other problem.

Beckett would land in hot water with Sergio if he kept his heart closed off. Sergio is all about openness and feeling one’s feelings.

Who is the first to apologize?

Sergio. They are like EMOTIONS. Beckett is like “My plan is I will keep all my emotions locked in my chest, and, eventually, I’ll die.” Sergio is overt. Beckett is covert.

SEX.

Sergio is Beckett’s dom. Beckett goes to them when he wants to surrender.

Who is on top? Who is on bottom?

Beckett canonically says Bottom Rights

Any kinks?

Dom/submissive. Bondage. Leather. Bloodplay. Orgasm delay/denial. Nipple clamps.

You know when cats get overstimulated and they just lay there with their paws in the air? That’s Beckett after a session with Sergio.

Who has the strangest desires?

.It’s pretty strange that a Kindred of Beckett’s age is into sex at all, but it’s my AU and I do what I want. In my world, he’s a touch starved disaster.

Who’s dominant in bed?

Sergio. They’re the dom, and it’s a reward to touch them.

Sergio is a stone bisexual, which means they don’t like to be penetrated or have their genitals touched at all. I did this partly because I’m wary of writing a scene that depicts Sergio’s junk. An enby reader who identifies with Sergio might read that they have ABC, and the presence of ABC might trigger gender dysphoria. I want those readers to keep however they picture Sergio in their head. Overall, I also don’t like the cis reader tendency to await for an enby character’s genital reveal, in order to figure out “what they are really.” As if genitals had anything to do with gender.

I created Sergio because a)there needs to be more enby characters in Vampire and b)I need practice writing enby characters. I’m not nonbinary so I KNOW I’m going to mess something up. Nature of the game. There are plenty of strategies for writing sex with a nonbinary partner, but I’m not confident in my ability to do so as of yet. So, for the moment, Sergio keeps their pants on and orders Beckett around.

Is head ever in the equation?

Yes! Sergio will lick Beckett like a lollipop.

If so, who is better at performing it?

Sergio, haha. They spent a long chunk of their life living loose and fast in Hollywood.

Ever had sex in public?

HA! Yes.

Who moans the most?

Beckett, and Sergio loves to tease those noises out.

Who leaves the most marks?

Beckett. He’s delighted that he CAN leave marks on Sergio. His other lovers are Kindred, and they heal too quickly to leave a fantastic hickey.

Who is the more experienced of the two?

Depends on how one defines experience. Beckett has had more lovers. Sergio has notably better technique.

Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’?

They and other characters refer to them as “sessions.”

How long do they usually last?

Hmm...probably depends on what they’re doing. I think it would average out to about an hour? Maybe two hours? Four hours at the longest. 10 minutes at shortest.

Rough or soft?

[Lady Gaga’s “I Like It Rough” starts playing in the background]

Is protection used?

Now that I think about it...that’s probably a good idea. They don’t have to worry about pregnancy, but STIs are a pain. The AIDS crisis is freaking dicey and utterly terrifying.

Does it ever get boring?

No. It becomes familiar. Comforting and warm. As easy to slip into as a daydream.

Where is the strangest place they’d have sex?

I haven’t written any strange places yet. Making out in an open alley during the 1940s was certainly dangerous. End of the world or no.

FAMILY.

Do they plan on having children/or have children?

Nope. Sergio isn’t interested in acquiring children, and Beckett wrote off having children long ago. Sergio is happy to be the immortal cousin to the Garcia family. The Garcia’s are a human family their regnant, Cassandra, takes care of.

Sergio knows how to care for a child, in the casual way one acquires when living under the same roof as one. To Beckett, children are more foreign, and he’s extremely worried that he’ll accidentally hurt them. That being said, put a baby in his hands and, after the initial nerves pass, he absolutely melts.

If so, how many children do they want/have?

n/a

AFFECTION.

Who likes to cuddle?

Both! I’m a sucker for cuddlebug characters.

Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places?

Sergio. They initiate a lot of the casual affection.

Who struggles to keep their hands to themselves?

Once he gets going, Beckett.

How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable?

Depends. Sergio is human, so there’s varying tolerance for how cold Beckett is. Sergio is the one who gets uncomfortable though.

What is their favourite non-sexual activity?

murder Going on Noddist adventures!

Where is their favourite place to cuddle?

Bed. Do you know how cozy bed is

SLEEPING.

Who snores?

Sergio, as the one who has to breathe.

If both do, who snores the loudest?

Sergio.

Do they share a bed or sleep separately?

Depends. They like snoozing together, but they’re not always in the same place.

If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart?

They’ll cozy up temporarily, but the need to get into an actual comfortable position for sleep will pull them apart.

What do they wear to bed?

Nightgowns. Both of them grew up wearing those to sleep.

Are either of them insomniacs?

Beckett has a God-ordained sleep schedule, so moon’s out, Beckett’s out. Sergio is variable. They have depression, so sometimes they’re asleep like 12 to 16 hours a day. Other times, when their brain is providing the serotonin, Sergio will push themself to stay up at all hours. During “First Date,” Sergio is awake all day doing work and stays up all night to smooch Beckett.

Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside?

Beckett has picked Sergio up, laid them on the bed, and squished them until they fell asleep. That’s all the help to snooze Sergio needs.

Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side?

Like I said above, they’ll wrap around each other for a bit, but eventually straighten out and just lay beside each other.

Who wakes up with bed hair?

Both! Beckett more.

Who wakes up first?

Sergio, most like. Being an Elder, Beckett usually wakes up an hour or two after sunset.

Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other?

If he’s feeling especially mother hen-ish, Beckett will bring Sergio breakfast in bed. Whenever Sergio is in bed, there’s breakfast for Beckett.

What is their favourite sleeping position?

Sergio likes to snuggle up to Beckett. When Beckett needs a lot of reassurance, he may put his head on Sergio’s chest to listen to the sounds of their living body.

Do they set an alarm each night?

Sergio will set alarms to rouse themself at the appropriate The Vampires Are Up(TM) time

Who has nightmares?

Both, though rarely.

Can a television be found in their bedroom?

Life with Beckett is a life on the road. Motels will have TVs so yes. In Sergio’s bedroom in LA or Beckett’s airplane? No.

Who has ridiculous dreams?

Beckett. He has the more bizarre connection to the Cobweb.

Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed?

Neither of them are bed hogs, but I guess Beckett? He’s bigger.

Who makes the bed?

They each make their own sides of the bed.

What time is bed time?

Dawn.

Any routines/rituals before bed?

Cuddles!

Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up?

Sergio can be grumpy or frustrated, but that’s not as much as an Emergency Alert if Beckett wakes with a hungry Beast.

WORK.

Who is the busiest?

Beckett, as he has a never-ending trot across the globe.

Who rakes in the highest income?

Sergio. By virtue of them actually having a steady trust fund and investment portfolio, plus any clothes they design and sell under a false name.

Beckett is like #FreelancerLife and leaves notes on museum doorsteps asking if they want this 400 year old piece of pottery and the curators are like sir what the fuck

Are any of them unemployed?

Nope

Who takes the most sick days?

Sergio, by virtue of ability to get seriously ill and more prone to injury. Beckett can only suffer from the Withering.

What are their jobs?

Beckett is a Noddist scholar, anthropologist, and archeologist. Sergio is fashion designer.

Who sucks up to their boss?

I guess the closest thing either has to a boss is Cassandra, as Sergio’s regnant. They will flatter her to the stars and back.

Who is more likely to turn up late to work?

They’re both likely to be delayed by complications. Complications such as assassins, traffic, angry Kindred officials, mascara not cooperating etc etc.

Who stresses the most?

Beckett. He worries a lot.

Do they enjoy or despise their careers/occupations?

They’re both in love with what they do.

Are they financially stable?

This is fantasy fiction so of course they are. I have enough money troubles irl.

HOME.

Who does the washing?

Most of the places they live (like motels) have a dedicated maid service, so it would be a mix of Sergio, Beckett, and the professionals.

Who takes out the trash?

Ditto to above.

Who does the ironing?

Sergio! They find it soothing.

Who does the cooking?

Also Sergio! Beckett is fascinated and regrets that he didn’t have the chance to eat Italian food while he was alive.

Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying?

BECKETT NO

Who is messier?

Like a messier eater? Beckett, because blood stains are pain. He is very neat, but when he does fuck up, ugh.

Who leaves the toilet roll empty?

No one, what the heck

Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor?

Both of them. Sergio is fussy with clothes when they’re wearing them, but is more lack when it comes to taking clothes off. Ideally, the outfit lands in the hamper, but sometimes one is too tired or preoccupied with kissing.

Who forgets to flush the toilet?

Dude, what, no.

Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere?

Beckett: Sergio, my dear...why is the car making a horrendous beeping noise.

Sergio: My God, that is awful--oh, I see, it thinks you have stolen it.

Beckett: wha--the car is mine!

Sergio: And this is what happens when you break into your own car

Who answers the telephone?

Both of them have their own cell phones. They could pick up a call for the other if the other is preoccupied, but it depends on what the caller ID says.

Who mows the lawn?

Neither of them knows how.

Who does the vacuuming?

Ditto for the other cleaning questions. Sergio vacuums more than Beckett because vacuums hurt my ears and I don’t even have super senses.

Who does the groceries?

Sergio, because they eat. If Sergio asks and gives Beckett a list, Beckett will go.

Who takes the longest to shower?

Beckett. He likes to stand in the warmth and soak.

Who spends the most time in the bathroom?

Sergio because makeup is awesome.

MISCELLANEOUS.

Is money a problem?

Nope.

How many cars do they own?

Neither of them own cars. They rent ones when they travel. Beckett has a jet.

What’s their song?

I haven’t found one yet. “I Like It Rough” by Lady Gaga is my best guess.

I do have a Beckett playlist here and I associate Sergio with “Que Sera, Sera” by Doris Day, “Crying Lightening” by the Arctic Monkeys, “Gangster’s Paradise” cover by Postmodern Jukebox, and the “Careless Whisper” cover by Postmodern Jukebox.

Do they live in the city or in the country?

They globe-trot, but Sergio’s “home base” is in LA.

Do they own their home or do they rent?

Hotel and motel bills oh no! Or they rough it.

Do they enjoy their surroundings?

Yes! Sergio and Beckett love traveling.

What do they do when they’re away from each other?

When Beckett is off adventuring with someone else, Sergio follows their other passions. They design new outfits, romance their other partners, adore their fish, try new beers, help Zelde build her inventions, and generally lives their life.

Where did they first meet?

LA. Read it here, but again it’s more a cameo.

Who spends the most money when out shopping?

LOL Sergio.

Who’s more likely to flash their assets?

Sergio is more likely to flash their cash to get what they want. Or flash Beckett’s prestige FOR Beckett. “Do you know who this is? This is the Beckett, scholar and the smartest man you will ever meet. He has thought more thoughts than you have in your entire pathetic life. So why don’t you run along to your little Elysium and tell your Keeper to let us in.”

Any mental issues?

As a Malkavian ghoul, Sergio has a lighter version of the Clan bane. They have depression. It’s the type where one has periods of low moods.

Who finds it amusing when the other trips over?

It’s hilarious when Beckett trips.

Who’s terrified of bugs?

No, haha.

Who kills the spiders around the house?

Neither mind the spiders. Sergio would kill a spider in a silly, dramatic fashion to make Beckett laugh.

Do they have any fears for their future?

Oh yeah. Beckett’s fears are more the personal, about the future of those around him. Besides the obvious of their regnant dying, Sergio worries are broader, about USA and global politics, cultural changes, justice etc.

Their favourite place?

No place is better than a lover’s arms.

Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner?

Sergio will surprise Beckett by spiking their blood with something interesting. Like, they will tell him before he drinks, but Beckett didn’t plan on experimenting with acid.

Who pays the bills?

Beckett tries to, but Sergio is more likely to pay things off.

Who’s the tallest?

They’re the same height.

Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other?

No, they’d ask permission first.

Who wanders around in their underwear?

Sergio, haha. Beckett automatically gets dressed every night.

Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio?

Neither of them are real singers, but Sergio is more likely to be caught humming.

What do they tease each other about?

Beckett will tease Sergio about their recklessness and cosmopolitan ways. Sergio will tease Beckett about his fashion sense and disaster bi ways.

Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times?

Sergio spends a lot of their first date roasting Beckett’s outfit.

Who crushed first?

Sergio. It’s subtle, but Beckett has to slowly remind himself that ghouls are people over the course of “Bad Idea” and “First Date.” It’s like a compassion muscle that he has to limber up.

Any alcohol or substance-related problems?

Sergio is addicted to vampire blood. Cassandra’s specifically.

Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am?

Hahahaha, probably Sergio? They get drunk WAY easier. If Sergio and Beckett are hanging out, Sergio will likely give Beckett a sip, which means Beckett will be drunk too.

Who swears the most?

We’re beginning and ending this with Sergio swearing, hahaha,

#text post #vtm #cuthbert beckett #original characters #sergio tessaro #tumblr life #otp meme

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captaincoffeegirl515 · 4 years

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6 Underground Thoughts!

I'm literally gonna talk about pretty much the entire movie so lots and lots of spoilers under the read more.

If you've already seen the movie, I would love to talk and debate and scream excitedly about the movie with you!

P.S. This got way longer than I expected.

I gotta say I really enjoyed the movie. Of course, there's some problems and continuity errors, etc. but I'll get to them after.

First of all, I love all the interactions between them. Found-family trope is my jam.

One and Four

Four looks up to One and seems like he tries to impress him.

He also calls One a likeable asshole.

"See that? That's called skill." Show off.

One was the one Four called to for help even though they all knew his way of leaving you behind if you can't keep up. And he stepped up and saved Four! That whole scene was so good!

I will admit though that how they first met is messed up. One basically kidnapped him, tied him down, and made Four think he was gonna shoot and kill him. Seven got it down when he called them a "family more screwed up than mine"

Two and Three

Badass lady and himbo (does Three count as a himbo?). Enough said.

I love every interaction they had together. I enjoyed their bickering and how they showed how they cared in their own way.

Tiny touches! The part near the end when Three lightly touches Two’s arm and she takes her hand out of her pocket so they could hold hands?! Nice.

When Two said "I would love to meet your mother." awwww! The way Three just brightens up!

Four and Seven

OTP! I never expected to come out with one, but here we are.

Look, I just love the concept of the free-spirited parkour expert being with the disciplined military operator.

Seven just immediately seemed to take Four under his wing and genuinely care about his well-being.

The others also expressed how they didn't want to leave Four behind but only Seven fought for them to stop.

Saved Four's life not once, but twice! It was almost instinctual and he didn't hesitate to do it.

"You're calling me Mister Seven from now on" Seven's inner dom coming out lol.

The names scene! "I'm Blaine. I just saved your life. What's your name?" and instead of listening to One’s order, he answers.

"Yeah, you look like a Billy."

Seven and One

One always kept his distance from everyone, used numbers instead of names so he wouldn't get attached, and had that horrid "can't keep up, get left behind" rule. So glad that Seven pushed back, from making the shot to save Four from both drowning and from falling to his death, questioning his rules about leaving people behind, and getting them all (except One, sadly) to say their real names.

Seven brought out One's heart and finally made him start to actually care for his team aka family. Like I'm certain that if it wasn't for him, One would have definitely left Four to die in Hong Kong and on the boat during the coup.

"You've got a soul, man. You should let it out."

Movie highlights and thoughts:

I called it! Like based on the screen time and focus on them from the trailers, I already knew Six was the most likely one to die and Four would probably be injured at worst.

The fucking dialogue in the opening! I can't even. Like “I’m gonna put this inside you, really deep.” and "ahhh! She's squirting!"

"So many fucking Vias in Italy." I love how it's canon that Four isn't that good with maps and would definitely get lost in Italy. Actually he's bad with directions period. "Where are you?" "Here." "Specifics!" "Right here." Four pls

Three trying to learn the language of each new place they go to. The best!

Did I already say Two is badass? Because she is. She really is. And they're all right when they said she'd be the most likely to survive.

Four and Six worked so well together in the car chase scenes and Four looked so sad when he saw Six's body in that car. Honestly if Six hadn't died so early in the movie and they got more interactions together, him and Four probably would've been my OTP.

I did enjoy how One had like momentary vulnerability like when Six died or when Four told them to leave him followed by the gunshots, etc. Those little moments where you can see that he did have feelings before he shoves them deep down and focuses back on the mission.

Best outfit is Four in that big white sweater with the red stripes. He looked so good.

I found the scene where Four asks One if he was a pig then spits at him weirdly hilarious. The spitting just felt so random and came out of nowhere.

Four sleeping is! So! Cute! And when Three starts loudly complaining, he just slowly opens one eye like he's going "are you fucking kidding me right now?!"

Another funny scene was when Four easy runs across the top of the crane and then it pans to the guards chasing him and they have both arms and legs on the crane and just slowly inching their way across.

Guy jokes about Noor. "Noor is dead. Say he's dead." "No, he's dead. He died." "Wait no. Wrong guy. He's alive!" jfc that was funny!

The coup song is so fire! I love it! Nice choice, Four.

Four's scream when that guy broke his arm just kills me. I kinda wish One made that guy's death a bit more painful and drawn out but I get that they were under some serious time constraints.

Actually any part where Four gets hurt... noooo bb

Now that I think about it, the fact that they have comms throughout the mission, like they can hear everything the others say, they can hear each other when they're fighting, when they get hit, everything. They heard when Three got shot in the face and Seven panicked, thinking that he just killed him. They heard Four screaming in pain when his arm broke and they couldn't do anything since they weren't there.

Seriously though, Ben's acting is so good! He's easily the best part of the movie. And his eyes! So green and so expressive!

“Fuck you!” “Fuck you!” “No you, fuck you!” jfc One and Three are hilarious together.

It was such a great scene when One told them he wouldn't go after Rovach bc he's going to save Four. Just. My heart. And "You’re breaking your own rules. I thought you didn't have a family". And Five's soft smile.

Four and Five are rock climbing buddies! Both their smiles can outshine the sun. They're so cute! (even though in the close-ups you can tell the rock is very obviously fake)

Ben and Adria are both so hot my little bi heart is ready to burst!

Also, how is Micheal Bay saying this movie isn't political? They had the US gov’t staging coups in third world countries and putting dictators into power, Russia arming Rovach and his military, chemical warfare, Rovach's whole speech to his generals about hitting where he is weakest like hospitals and schools, the "our president doesn't know how to spell Turgistan" line, revolution, overthrowing dictators, throwing Rovach down to the people for them to deal their own brand of justice, etc. There were so many things that just screamed politics!

Issues:

Holy hell the kill count of this movie is just insane. It becomes over the top so fast. Same with all the gratuitous gore.

Shaky af camera work.

Literally every explosion looked like those sparky fireworks. What.

Lots of continuity errors. Six having a disappearing and reappearing hat throughout the chase scene. Basically any scene involving water. Like Four and Two get completely soaked at one point, but in the next scene, they're completely dry. Or the part where Four is hanging upside down on the net and big dude is trying to untangle him so he’d fall but when it cuts back to them when Seven makes the shot, it's back to the part where the guy was choking Four.

Did anyone else notice all the skid marks on the roads even though they haven't officially driven on it yet? Didn't have enough budget left to remove or edit out the marks from all the rehearsals they did?

And why is One hanging the eyeball right over the phone screen? That's not where the camera is dude!

Did Two and Three seriously have sex with all those dead people around?! Shouldn't they be running since they killed the 4 generals and guards would likely be on their way??

Also, Ben's stunt double was obvious in almost every parkour stunt. Wow.

Why no Five backstory! I wanna know how she ended up joining the team!

They did Five dirty! She barely has lines or scenes, they took out her backstory, and gave her little to no character growth.

I know they're hinting at Four and Five getting together, but I just don't see it. They have barely any romantic chemistry together. Eye contact and smiling is not chemistry. It just isn’t.

#6 underground #6 underground spoilers #ryan reynolds #melanie laurent #manuel garcia rulfo #ben hardy #adria arjona #dave franco #corey hawkins

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lost-n-stereo · 5 years

Text

A/N: Happy Father’s Day! Here’s a fun little ask box meme (X) that I did to celebrate Modern AU Dad!Bellamy. These do go in order but you can skip around and read them individually as well. Enjoy 4k words of Bellamy being a great dad!

everything will bring a chain of love

Who in your OTP carries them from the couch/car to the bed?

They spend the day at the beach, toes sandy and noses red by the time they make it back to the car. Hope is fast asleep in her car seat, dark curls falling across her eyes as she snores peacefully.

“She had so much fun today,” Clarke says, her eyes dropping closed themselves. Bellamy reaches for her hand and kisses her knuckles.

“Sleep, baby. We’ll be home soon.”

When he finally pulls into their driveway almost an hour later both of his girls are knocked out. Clarke is curled up in her seat as far as the sea tbelt will allow and Bellamy chuckles, reaches over to unbuckle her and kisses her cheek to wake her up.

“Are we home?” She asks, her voice thick with sleep.

“Yeah, go ahead and go inside. I’ll get the monster.”

He hands the keys to Clarke so she can open the front door and goes around the car to get their daughter from the backseat. It’s hard unbuckling her and pulling her out without waking her up but he tries his best.

“Daddy?”

Her little toddler voice never fails to fill his heart with warmth and he gathers her in his arms and drops a kiss to her forehead.

“We’re home, baby. Go back to sleep.”

She nods against his chest, twirling one dark curl around her finger, and he loves his daughter like this. She’s two, all wild hair and spirit, but she’s her most cuddly when she’s just woken up.

Clarke has turned down her bed already so he gets her changed into pajamas as quickly as he can without waking her too much and tucks her into bed. He kisses her cheek with a whispered goodnight and is almost out the door when her little voice calls him back.

“Lola?”

She’s reaching out her arms and he smiles, grabs her favorite stuffed penguin from the bookshelf and brings it to her. Hope smiles and gives Lola a kiss before snuggling down into her bed with her penguin gripped tight.

Clarke is already in bed by the time he makes it back to their room. “Did she fall asleep alright?”

Bellamy pulls off his shirt and bends down to kiss her. “Yeah, out like a light.” He tells her that he’s going to take a shower and when he comes back out she’s already asleep, her hands tucked under her cheek as she lays on her side.

He crawls into bed behind her and wonders how he got so lucky to have these girls in his life.

And who soothes the kids after a nightmare?

A loud wail wakes him up from a dead sleep.

Clarke jerks beside him, their bodies finely tuned to all of Hope’s cries, and her eyes are wide as she moves to get out of bed. They reach their daughter’s room and see her sitting up in bed, cheeks red and tears streaming down her face.

“What’s wrong, love?” Clarke reaches her first and Hope is sniffling, her little hands reaching out for both of her parents. Bellamy sits down next to her and his daughter crawls into his lap and buries her head into his shoulder.

“Did you have a bad dream?” Her tiny head nods against his neck.

“Big and scary,” she whispers in his ear and he rubs a hand up and down her back to sooth her.

“It’s okay, it wasn’t real.” Clarke motions to their bedroom and he nods, stands up with Hope in his arms and tucks her into their bed. Hope curls up next to Clarke and Bellamy gets in beside her and puts his arm around both of them.

Hope falls asleep with one hand on Bellamy and one hand on Clarke, and he presses a kiss to her curls before closing his eyes and drifting back to sleep.

Who wants to throw out the car seat because the stupid thing won’t strap in?

“This booster seat is kicking my ass.”

Clarke laughs as Bellamy huffs and struggles with installing Hope’s new car seat. “You just have to pull the belt through this section here.”

“You two are hopeless,” comes a voice from behind them and Bellamy laughs. They are fostering a ten year old girl named Madi and she’s full of sass, much to Bellamy’s delight. She reminds him of his sister Octavia at that age.

“You wanna try?” He asks her and she shrugs. “Be my guest.”

Madi installs it in less than a minute and she shoots him a smirk. Hope comes running out of the house and straight into Madi’s arms, already attached to her, and Bellamy can’t wait to tell them both that they just got approved to formally adopt Madi into their family.

Hope is going to love having a big sister and he is going to love having two beautiful daughters to call his own.

Who cries on the first day of school?

The day he’s been dreading is here and to say he’s not handling it well would be an understatement.

In his mind his youngest daughter isn’t old enough to be starting school. She’s just barely five, the youngest in her class, and she looks so tiny compared to all of the other kids milling around in the courtyard of the private school Clarke spent two years applying for.

“Can’t we just home school her?” Bellamy asks his wife, who rolls her eyes but still smiles sadly. Both of them have tears in their eyes as Hope waves her little hand and tells them she’ll see them after school.

“You guys are such saps,” Madi says but when he looks at her she’s discreetly wiping a tear from her own eye.

“And you’re totally above all of that, right?” She shoots him a dirty look, twelve year olds are great at that, and he ruffles her hair.

“Come on, kid. It’s time for your mom and I to embarrass you at your school now.”

Gets the kids into the local sports team?

Jordan Green is the next child they adopt. A sixteen year old boy who’s parents died the year before.

Older children are harder to adopt out and when they decided they were ready to foster or adopt another child he was the only one they spoke to. He’s a great kid, smart and kind, unlike other sixteen year old boys Bellamy has known in his lifetime. Jordan is always eager to learn and grow as a person and he reminds Bellamy every single day that there are good people in this world no matter how bleak things can get.

“What do you think about joining a sports team at school?” Bellamy asks one day while they are eating breakfast. “Miller is the football coach at the high school. I’m sure he’d be able to get you a late tryout.”

Clarke frowns. “Isn’t football dangerous?”

“Everything is a little dangerous,” Bellamy says with a shrug. “You’d let him drive? Isn’t that dangerous?”

He laughs at her pout. “I suppose that’s true.”

“Jordan, what do you think?”

Jordan is all smiles, which is nothing new. Bellamy doesn’t know if he’s ever seen this kid have a bad day. “It sounds great! Would you guys come to my games?”

Bellamy grins. “Of course we would.”

And who’s the parent that gets way too aggressive at these games?

“Oh, come on, ref!”

Hope jumps up and down on the bleaches next to Bellamy. “Aw…come on, ref!”

Bellamy’s anger fades as he laughs and tickles his daughter until she’s giggling and falling into Madi’s lap. “Don’t copy daddy,” he says. “Sometimes I say things you shouldn’t.”

Clarke elbows him in the ribs. “Just remember that when you stand up and shout,” she whispers. “You don’t want to say any words that little ears shouldn’t be hearing.”

He rolls his eyes. “Then that ref shouldn’t be a dumb ass.”

Hope giggles. “Dumb ass, dumb ass.”

“Hope!” Bellamy, Clarke and Madi all scold her at once but his sassy daughter just laughs and kicks her feet.

An asshole kid on the other team tackles Jordan way too hard and Bellamy jumps up to scream something at him but sees Hope staring at him, like she’s just waiting for the chance to parrot more bad language, so he growls instead and sits back down.

Who in your OTP lets the kids stay up and watch movies and who sends them to bed?

“Dad, Night of the Living Dead is on tonight. Can I watch it?”

Bellamy looks over at Madi, who’s got both of her hands pressed together in a prayer. It’s a Thursday night, which means her bedtime is in thirty minutes.

“Do you think it’s a good idea to watch a horror movie before you go to sleep?”

Madi rolls her eyes. “It’s from like, the sixties. How scary can it really be? Plus, I’m thirteen. I’m not a baby.”

“Fine, but I’m watching it with you.”

Clarke comes downstairs forty minutes into the movie, and Bellamy and Madi both jump when her voice cuts through the darkness of their living room.

“Madi, what are you doing up so late?”

His daughter immediately throws him under the bus. “Dad said I could!”

“Damn,” he laughs. “Absolutely no loyalty in this family.”

“You should be in bed, you have school in the morning.”

Bellamy reaches for his wife and pulls her so she’s sitting in between him and Madi. “It’s almost over, baby. Watch it with us?”

Clarke rolls her eyes but leans back into his arms. “You’re both going to have nightmares.”

Who sneaks candy to the kids before school, whilst the other pretends not to notice?

Clarke has always been in charge of the girls’ lunches.

She’s one of those great moms that fill their kid’s lunches with hearty sandwiches, fresh fruits and veggies and organic apple juice. Jordan eats lunch at his high school, which is one of the top rated in the country and therefore has an insane lunch buffet that frankly Bellamy is a little jealous of.

Madi says all the time that she can’t wait for her freshman year just so she can try the food.

It’s a week before summer vacation and the girls are restless at breakfast. They are both headed to summer camp after school lets out and Bellamy knows that every single day feels like a lifetime to them.

Clarke is bustling around the kitchen, chopping fresh broccoli and both girls grimace when she fills little cups with ranch dressing.

“Here,” he says, reaching into his gym bag for a couple of pieces of candy. He tosses two pieces to each of them and they grin, shoving the chocolate into their mouths before Clarke can see.

Of course he knows that Clarke can see everything, she’s a mom after all, but he likes the little smile she has on her face as she slices a turkey sandwich in half.

Who is the parent that yells at the kid for being called to the principal’s office and who is the parent who yells at the principal?

Just as he expected, Madi as a teen is a handful.

It’s the second day of her freshman year and they have already been called into the principal’s office.

“Madi has been disruptive in two of her classes already,” the principal is saying and Bellamy scowls.

“Disruptive how?”

Principal Morgan sighs like his time is worth more than this conversation and that pisses Bellamy off. “She argued with two of her teachers about the curriculum being wrong.”

Bellamy snorts. “So you’re mad that my daughter is smarter than your teachers?” Clarke puts a hand on his arm to calm him but he knows without looking at her that she’s just as angry as he is. This is a good school, and they pay a lot of money for Madi and Jordan to attend, and the last thing they want is to have to enroll her somewhere else.

“Mr. Blake, all I’m asking is that you have a talk with your daughter.”

Bellamy and Clarke stand at the same time and Clarke gives him a smirk. “Oh, we will.”

That night at dinner Madi is quiet and he’s guessing that she’s preparing to be yelled at.

“Madi, do you want to tell us what happened today?” Clarke asks, passing a bowl of potato salad to Jordan, who spoons some onto Hope’s plate.

Madi tells them everything, from correcting her history teacher about false facts and telling her math teacher that it isn’t fair to assume everyone knows basic algebra going into the 9th grade. “I’m sorry for being a brat but they were wrong.”

Clarke reaches over and holds her hand. “We’re not mad at you, love. We are proud of you for sticking up for what you know is right.”

“Really?”

“Hell yeah,” Bellamy tells her, earning a scolding look from his wife that he ignores. “You are always more important to us than some stupid school. You are a warrior, kid. Don’t you ever forget it.”

Who teaches their son to tie a tie

“Are you nervous?”

Bellamy hands Jordan the navy blue tie and watches fondly as he tucks it under his collar.

“Not about the date,” Jordan says, his hands struggling to knot the tie. “Delilah is great. But yeah, the whole senior prom thing is a little scary.”

Bellamy chuckles and reaches for the tie. “Here,” he says, showing Jordan how to loop it. “You’re going to be fine. Luckily for you, you’re adopted and don’t have my bad dancing gene.”

Jordan grins. “Lucky for me I ended up with you as a dad anyway.”

Bellamy slaps his son on the shoulder, trying not to show in his eyes how emotional that statement made him. He prides himself in being a cool dad, since he’s really not that much older than Jordan to begin with, but he’s not above shedding a tear when one of his kids says something nice like that.

“There, you’re all set. Have fun tonight and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

And who explains periods to their daughter?

It figures that Clarke and Madi are out of town the week Hope gets her first visit from Aunt Flo.

“Dad!!”

His eleven year old daughter is screaming from the bathroom but when he gets there the door is locked.

“Hope, what’s wrong?”

“Can you call mom?”

His heart drops, because he immediately knows what’s going on and of course he’s the last person she wants to talk to about this.

“Did you, um…did you start your…”

“Yes!” She yells through the door. “What do I do?”

He tells her that there are some pads under the sink and says that they are pretty easy to use. He had to deal with this with Octavia too, when his mom was on a two week bender and couldn’t be bothered to teach her own daughter about her body.

Twenty minutes later Hope emerges from the bathroom, skin pale and eyes red.

“Want me to buy you some chocolate ice cream?” He offers and she nods, tucks herself into his arms so he can give a hug only a dad can give.

Who cries at graduation?

He’s a mess.

It seems like just yesterday Madi was a ten year old little firecracker, with her big brown eyes and wild hair down to her back. It’s hard to believe it’s been almost eight years since the day they adopted her, and now she’s graduating

“Bellamy, are you okay?” Clarke asks, her knuckles white as she grips his hand. He can see how hard she’s trying to hold it together but they both know they only have two and a half more months before Madi is almost 600 miles away at school.

“Not even in the slightest,” he says and they both cry when they watch their daughter walk across the stage and accept her diploma.

“I’m so proud of you, kid,” Bellamy says when Madi joins them after the ceremony. “I don’t know what we’re going to do with only one kid running around the house.”

Madi looks at Clarke and furrows her brow. “Didn’t you tell him?”

Bellamy’s eyes shoot to Clarke. “Tell me what?”

Her hand falls to her stomach and his eyes widen in shock. “Um…surprise?”

Who reads the book in silly voices?

Tobias starts talking much earlier than his older sister and every day Bellamy is shocked at his son’s vocabulary. By the time he’s nearing three he’s already speaking in complete sentences, which is both amusing and terrifying to his parents.

“Daddy, can you read me this please?”

Toby brings a fairy tale book to Bellamy, who grabs his glasses from the table next to him and slides them on just as his son climbs into his lap.

“Once upon a time there was a princess,” Bellamy starts and Toby giggles and claps his hands.

“With voices, Dad!”

Bellamy chuckles and reads the story, making his voice high for the princess and dark and scary for the villain. He hears a content sigh and he looks up to see Clarke standing in the doorway, her hands folded across her chest and her head resting on the door jam. She once told him that she finds him sexiest when he’s being a good dad.

Toby is drifting to sleep when Bellamy reaches the last page.

“And they lived happily ever after.”

Who’s the one against sweets before dinner and who lets it slide?

Toby is four when he discovers his love for caramel.

“Hope, how was school?” Clarke asks from beside him. She’s sitting on the kitchen counter with a full glass of wine in her hand as he stirs the spaghetti sauce on the stove. Every couple of minutes she’ll poke him with her finger so he’ll dip a spoon in to give her a taste.

Hope tells them a story about her English teacher and Toby comes up to him and tugs on the bottom of his shirt.

“What’s up, buddy?”

“Can I have a candy?” He asks and Bellamy frowns.

“Dinner is going to be done soon. How about we wait until after, okay?”

Toby pouts. “But mama always lets me.”

Clarke almost chokes on her wine and Bellamy looks at her with a raised eyebrow. “Oh, does she now?”

“Please,” his wife retorts. “Don’t think I forgot how you gave Madi and Hope pieces of chocolate before school all those years.”

Hope laughs from where she’s doing her homework on the kitchen table. “She’s got you there, pops.”

Who gets rid of the monster in the closet and under the bed?

Toby goes through a phase three months before his fifth birthday where he’s convinced a monster lives in his room.

“Buddy,” Bellamy tells him every night. “There is nothing here, I promise.” Then he proceeds to open the door to the closet, turning on the light to show him that it’s empty. He gets on the floor with a flashlight and checks under the bed to show Toby that nothing is there to scare him.

“Then why do I hear scratching every night?” Toby asks seriously. “It always comes from over there.”

He points to his window and Bellamy’s eyes narrow. “Here?” He asks and his son nods. Bellamy trusts his kids and if Toby says he hears scratching then maybe there is something to that.

It only takes a minute of looking out of Toby’s window for him to see the source of the scratching. He grins and tells his son he’ll be right back. When he walks back into the room, he tells Toby to close his eyes and says that he found someone to help him combat the monsters at night.

And that’s the story of how Toby got his first kitten.

Which parent sneaks veggies into the kids’ dinner and who doesn’t like veggies themselves?

“This is gross.” Toby leans over and nudges Bellamy is the side. “Why does mom make us eat this?”

Bellamy snorts, because if he’s being honest he’s not the biggest fan of vegetable casserole either.

“Mom wants us to go meatless on Mondays, remember? Be nice.”

Jordan and Madi are both home for the week because it’s spring break and they both are picking at their plates like they’d rather be eating anything else.

Clarke is just watching them all with an annoyed look on her face.

“Fine, who wants to order pizza?” They all cheer and she laughs. “Okay, but no pepperoni!”

Who in your OTP does the “hurt my baby and I’ll kill you” speech when their kid brings someone over?

Hope is seventeen when she brings home her first boyfriend.

“I don’t like this,” Bellamy tells Clarke, who rolls her eyes and tells him to calm down. “She’s too young to be dating.”

“Are you kidding me?” Clarke asks. “I was seventeen when we started dating.”

Bellamy snorts. “Yeah, and do you remember how many times we snuck off to have sex?” Clarke pales and he nods. “See?”

“Hope is smart,” she says. “It’s going to be fine.”

The kid’s name is Decker, which is just about the dumbest name he’s ever heard, and he pulls him aside before they have a chance to leave on their first date.

“Listen, kid. I’ve been you, okay? I know how teenage boys think. You hurt my daughter and there will be consequences. Understand?”

Decker is practically shaking in fear, which makes Bellamy feel just a little bad for the kid. “Yes, sir.”

“Good,” he says and practically pushes the kid towards Hope. “Now, have a great time at the movies.”

Who goes on all the rides with the kids because their partner gets queasy on rides?

“I can’t believe you guys are having another baby,” Hope says as they get in line for the roller coaster. “Do you two ever just keep it in your pants.”

“Hey!” Bellamy says, reaching down to cover Toby’s ears. “Can you not in front of your little brother, please?”

Hope shrugs. “What? It’s not my fault our parents are bunnies.”

“Dad, can we get a rabbit?” Toby asks, his voice loud because he’s trying to hear himself talk. Bellamy rolls his eyes and lets go of his ears.

“Sorry, little man. I think Obi Wan would eat it.” That’s a lie because they have the laziest fat cat in the world. “And we’re having another baby because we’re still young and we like our kids.”

“Yeah,” Toby says.”I don’t wanna be the only kid when you go off to college.”

Clarke is watching them from the sidelines, her four month along belly just barely on display in a yellow sundress and she waves as they board the ride. She wasn’t feeling great this morning but since they’d had this theme park trip planned for months she’d decided that she would just sit out on rides that might make her sick.

“Sooner or later, you’re going to have to stop having kids,” Hope says as she helps Toby buckle his seat belt.

“Maybe one day,” Bellamy agrees and he throws a wink to his wife. “But not today.”

#bellarke #bffnet #bellarke fanfiction #bellamy and clarke #fanfic

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