#this started as a fit check but then i had the idea to deep fry the shit out of it and then this was born

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Custody Battle--Four Seasons

The Ritual of Propagation has succeeded. Aziraphale and Crowley are ready to welcome the newest member of Their Own Side. But the Archangels have other plans. No young angel has ever been raised outside their closely guided care, and they have no intention of changing that.

As Aziraphale, Crowley, and Kokabiel get ready for breakfast, their peaceful morning is abruptly interrupted. Their next visitor has arrived...

(Chapter has CWs for mild violence and panic attacks. Whole fic has warnings for noncon, emotional manipulation, and more--please check the tags carefully!)

Read it on AO3!

Aziraphale hummed cheerfully as he chopped ingredients, keeping an eye on the sizzling sausage and hot oils dancing in the pan.

He’d started making crepes, as planned, but he’d found the scent of the batter… uninspiring. Even when he switched from strawberries to a lovely mix of raspberries, blackberries, and loganberries picked from the garden—a bit of tartness to counter the sweetness… well, one sniff and he knew that wouldn’t do at all.

But as he rummaged about the kitchen, he soon discovered what he was in the mood for.

The sunlight streamed through the windows as he set to work, shifting the enormous pan over the gas flame. The perfect morning for a meal on the garden patio, soaking in… everything.

“Mmmmmh…” Crowley sighed, coming up behind him and sliding his arms around Aziraphale’s waist. “I think I called it. Those are some funny looking crepes.” 

“Oh, hush, you.” Aziraphale expertly shifted the sausages to make room for the bacon. “I thought a little change was in order, and Kokabiel likes watching the pan, don’t you my dear?”

They bounced excitedly across his wing, not leaping as high as yesterday, instead trying to match the spattering, cracking sounds of the oil in the pan.

The scents filled the room, warm, savoury, and crisp. Sausage and thick back bacon, as well as black and white puddings. Now he just had to sear the tomatoes, caramelise the mushrooms, fry the bread, then take care of the baked beans and eggs. He’d even managed a bit of laver bread, though something was still missing. A bit of trout, perhaps, or some cockles…

“You sure you want fried food?” Crowley asked, one hand running idly along his wing. “How’s your stomach?”

“Much improved, thank you for asking.” Aziraphale nudged the bacon, making sure it cooked properly. “My appetite has quite recovered; not a hint of nausea to be found.” He flashed a smile over his shoulder. “And how are you?”

“Awesome,” Crowley said with a lopsided grin. He’d changed his clothes, now sporting a snug-fitting lacy black corset top under one of Aziraphale’s dress shirts, unbuttoned and flowing loose. They, and a few mis-matched necklaces, worked together to draw attention towards his bosom, which appeared to have grown even larger. “Shower was a good idea.”

“Naturally. It was one of mine.”

Crowley snickered, leaning closer to press against his angel. “Not your only good idea…” He kissed Aziraphale’s cheek, damp hair brushing both their faces.

Aziraphale immediately shoved him away. “What—what is that horrid— stench?” He pressed his hand to his nose, trying to block it out.

“What? I—I don’t—” Crowley sniffed his own hair. “Not me. Did the eggs go off?”

“I haven’t started them yet—and I know what rotten eggs—this isn’t foul, it’s…” He tried to pull his hand away and… no, there was the nausea, back in full force. “Oh!” Aziraphale slammed down the spatula, stepping away from the stove. “It’s no good.” He jerked open the nearest window, taking one deep gulp of air after another, hoping that would rinse the horrid malodour from his memory.

“I… I guess this is a new shampoo,” Crowley admitted, twisting his hair up into a knot, “but it barely has any scent!”

“Well. One of us is mistaken.” Another breath, and his mind started to clear. But his stomach still churned uneasily, and the thought of standing over the stove for another twenty minutes made his knees weak. “If it isn’t the shampoo, it must be something.”

A brush of fingers running up his back. “Do you need me to—”

“I need you to give me space!” He swatted Crowley away, fanning his face with the other hand. “It’s—I’m sorry, I just need you to… get rid of that smell!”

Brow furrowed in confusion, Crowley sniffed the loose shirt collar, then bent almost double trying to do the same for the low-cut corset top. “I… I tried one of those little potpourri things in my drawer? Is that it?”

“I can’t even think!” Aziraphale pushed past him, sprinting up the stairs. “I will find that scent and exorcise it from this house!”

“Angel, you can’t be—wait!”

“No! You’ll thank me when it’s gone. Good Lord, Crowley…”

“Just… leave my deodorant, alright?”

Aziraphale paused at the top of the stairs, leaning against the bedroom door as he fanned himself, chasing away the summer heat. A distant, hazy thought slipped across the back of his mind, not quite fully formed. Confusion, protest, and a sense of curiosity.

“Well, I thought it was entirely necessary,” he grumbled in response to Kokabiel, still trying to get the awful smell off his tongue. “Really, he has no sense of moderation or—or anything when it comes to trends and fashion. If the humans declared walking around with kippers in their jackets to be cool, Daddy would have them bursting from every pocket. Absolutely insupportable.”

The curiosity drifted away, turning in slow circles, then rushed back, nudging an impression, the ghost of a memory, into his mind. For a second, Aziraphale could smell it again—too chemical, too sweet, and an undercurrent that was downright astringent. The memory alone was enough to make his stomach roll. “Yes! Precisely that! And we can’t let Daddy get away with it, can we?”

“You know I can hear you, right?” Crowley appeared at the bottom of the stairs, waving the spatula at his husband. “I’m not going to take this from someone who hasn’t changed his cologne in five years!”

“A classic scent never goes out of fashion!”

Kokabiel’s attention began to drift away, unable to follow the conversation. But they quickly brightened as another memory rose up in their mind: clematis and jasmine, magnolia and sweet alyssum, and over it all, the smell of honeysuckle: sweet and heady, citrus and vanilla.

“Yes!” Aziraphale beamed at the youngling. “Oh, look how clever you are. Yes, we want Daddy to smell like the garden, not like a chemical plant explosion. Why don’t you set things up outside, dearest, and air yourself out?”

“Fine, fine, right after I finish cooking your breakfast.” He pointed the spatula like a sword. “You’re lucky that I love you.”

“I truly am,” Aziraphale agreed wholeheartedly. “Mind you don’t burn anything.”

Read the rest on AO3!

#good omens #ineffable husbands #south downs cottage #aziraphale #crowley #good omens prime #aziraphale and crowley #good omens fanfiction #domestic fluff #breakfast #aziraphale loves crowley #crowley loves aziraphale #my writing #aziraphale's children #ao3 link #ao3 fic #cw mpreg #cw emotional abuse #cw noncon #this scene is cute but it gets steadily darker #if you don't want to read the whole thing #please enjoy walnut husbands being husbands

[thewritetofreespeech]

I don't know if you've done this before :( but could you maybe write about the Obey me brothers after an argument with MC?? Like a fight make up kind of situation??

400 years later.....

Well, maybe not that long, but certainly long enough. I'm sorry >.<. Hope this doesn't put you off on sending other things because I did like doing this one!

Obey me Brothers + MC After a Fight

Lucifer

It was late into the evening when you heard the knock at your door. Before you could ask who it was, you heard the even timber of Lucifer’s voice behind the door. “[Y/N], it’s me. May I come in?” There was a long pause than usual between his introduction and question, seeming to debate asking, or your response, before he asked it.

To be honest, he had a right to be cautious because you weren’t sure what your answer would be before you opened your mouth. “Yes. Come in.”

The heavy door opened and Lucifer stepped in. Prim and as well stationed as ever, but the confidence normally in his face diminished just the slightest. “I…came to apologize.” The words seem to want to drag out of his throat. Like it’s the hardest thing he’s ever had to say. Not the best start for an apology.

“You didn’t have to treat me that way.” You tell him. Telling you like a child in front of everyone. Getting your hand smacked for something you didn’t even do. No coming to give some lack luster, dutiful apology he doesn’t mean. “And don’t say your sorry if you’re not.”

“I am sorry.” Lucifer insisted, before he took a deep breath and tried to relax. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have embarrassed you like that in front of everyone. I was upset, and took it out on you. Sometimes you’re an easy target because I know you’ll care for me no matter what I do. We always hurt most the ones we love.” Your cheeks tint at the comment. Damn him and his suave words.

The demon makes the effort to cross the threshold and take your hands. “Please know that I am truly sorry for my behavior. I will strive to never make you feel foolish, or less than, again. My mission in life now is to show you how much more than I find you over everyone else.”

You roll your eyes a little at the comment. “Let’s not get carried away. You’re starting to sound like Asmo.”

You giggle when Lucifer gave a forced, disgusted shutter. He then lifted your hands to his lips and gave them a kiss. “Am I forgiven?” He asked.

“I suppose.” Annoyingly, he was right. You would always care for, and love him, so it was hard to stay mad at him for long.

“Good,” he said, with his usual prideful smile, “I’m glad. I do plan to still make it up to you though. So make no plans for Saturday.”

“Will do.” You agreed. Giving him a tiny salute. He then left to let you finish getting ready for bed. Ideas of how he’d ‘make it up to you’ swirling in your head.

Mammon

There was a sharp rap at your door that rung out clear in your room over your headphones. You were curious who was here at this hour, but got up to go answer the door before the tried again.

You open the door and are immediately confronted with a bundle of flowers being shoved in your face. Almost to the point of the blooms bursting against your cheeks. You stagger, at the afront of color, and the bouquet is pulled back slightly to reveal Mammon behind them. “I…bought you these flowers. To say I’m sorry.” The more he talked the more his voice trailed off. His normally confidence draining like the color from his face.

“Isn’t it rather cliché to buy someone flowers to apologize?”

Mammon flinched at your criticism. “I didn’t know what else to do. If you don’t like them I’ll buy you something else. Anything you want! Just please…talk to me.” Please forgive me, was what he was really saying.

You look at the demon for a moment. His defeated stance not fitting into his character at all. Ironic, since the fight was about Mammon being too full of himself. Confidence was one thing, but ever now and then it was too much, and when you tried to talk to him about it he turned on you. He had immediately regretted it, but you refused to talk to him for several days after to cool off.

Apparently, that was the worse punishment he could think of.

“You don’t need to buy me anything Mammon. I’ve already forgiven you.”

“Really??” He asked. Seeming unsure of what he’d heard or that he could trust you.

“Really.” You repeat, and immediate find yourself in his arms. Your flowers falling to the floor as he hugged you.

“Thank you [Y/N]! I’ll never do anything stupid like that again! I promise!”

“Well now, let’s not make promises we can’t keep.” You tease. Patting his back. “We all make mistakes Mammon. I’ll be angry with you sometimes, but I generally forgive you. How can I stay mad at my ‘First Man’ for long?” His hold on you tightened a little. It lingered for a moment longer before he let you go.

“Yeah. Right. Don’t you forget it.”

Levi

You were getting ready to head downstairs when there was a knock at your door. It was a surprise, since you were going down to meet everyone. So who was up here now? You open the door and find everyone’s favorite otaku, out of his hole and in front of your door, staring at you.

“Y-Y-You…You weren’t answering my texts.” Levi finally got out.

“That should have been a hint.” You tell him. Perhaps a bit more curt than need be.

The bluenette straightened in alarm before his shoulder slumped again. “I know. I’m sorry! But I couldn’t stand the thought of you being mad at me! I know I can get a little…-“crazy?” You interjected –“excited about my games and stuff, but I really didn’t mean to snap at you!”

The two of you had been playing some new quest game that was all the rage apparently on the deep otaku net. Supposedly it was unbeatable. No one had actually ever seen the final boss ending yet. Which of course meant Levi was determined to be the first. Confident that his eons of experience wouldn’t lead him astray.

Sadly, the legends of the unbeatable game were true. And after hour after hour of crushing defeat Levi snapped and took it out on you. He’s locked himself in his room after. Ashamed, and upset that he hurt you; if his texts were anything to go off of.

“I threw the game away and I’ll never play it again. I promise! I’ll never go all rage beast mode on you again as long as I live! Just please forgive me and talk to me again!”

“Oh Levi, it’s not that serious.” You insist as you reach out your hand to his clasped ones in front of you. Reassuring him. “We all get a little crazy when things don’t go our way. I forgive you. In the future lets try to play games that are a little less….taxing on our relationship, if we can manage.”

“R-R-R! Relationship!” Levi stammered. Turning bright red in front of you, which made you giggle. You lean in to give him a kiss on the cheek. Really frying his circuits. Maybe it was a little bit out of you missing Levi when you were fighting. And maybe it was also his ‘punishment’ for the fight as well.

Satan

Tucking into your homework for the evening, you look up from your desk when there was a knock at the door. It was sharp, to the point. You immediately knew who it was, and debated not answering. However, that would be rude and a level of pettiness not even you could manage.

“Hello Satan,” you greet when you open the door. Correct in guessing who was there. “How can I help you?”

The blonde seemed wounded by your formality, usually such a champion of manners. But he was a clever man and knew you were doing it to put some distance between you. “I came to apologize.”

“As you should.” Ok. Maybe you were a little pettier than you like to admit.

“You’re right, and I should have been here sooner. I was just….embarrassed.” Satan ran his fingers through his hair. “He just makes me so angry sometimes! Being so high and mighty. Bossing us around. I try to keep it under control but….I can’t.” Given he is the Avatar of Wrath, it’s a wonder he made any effort to keep his rage in check. Everyone says he was getting better though. Even his relationship with Lucifer was getting better; even with this spat. “It pains me more than I can tell you to know that I upset you in the process. Turning on you like that like an idiot when you were only trying to help. It was so stupid.”

“It wasn’t very like you.” You admit, and Satan gave a single, bitter scoff.

“Maybe not now. Maybe with you.” Cautiously he reached out his hand to take yours in a gentle hold. “But I am sorry. Please know that I’ll strive to not let my anger get the better of me again.”

“I’m sure you will.” You said. Squeezing his hand back. “And, I forgive you. I should know by now not to get involved with any of your fights. But I care about you all so much.”

“But you care about me most, yes?” He asked with a soft smile. To which you giggle and kiss his cheek.

“Yes. I care for you most.”

Asmo

It was late afternoon when you heard the knock at your door. Typically, everyone was off doing their own activities at this hour, so it was a surprise to have someone looking for you. You open the door cheerfully at first, but then frowned. “Oh. Hello Asmo.”

“Hello [Y/N]-kun.” Asmo greeted brightly, but you could tell it was forced. “I…wanted to come see you. To apologize. For acting so ugly earlier.”

It’s not often that Asmo lost his temper. He usually left that to his silly, older brothers. Rising above in dignified beauty, as he liked to put it. But every now and then it got the best of him, and his tongue was sharper than any knife in the draw when he got that way.

“What you said really hurt Asmo.”

“I know,” he admitted frowning. “I haven’t been able to sleep all night thinking about it. Look at these bags!” You frown as he pointed to his under eyes, and he realized he was being selfish again. “I’m sorry I said such awful things the other day. I don’t have an excuse or fix for it. Except to say that I’m sorry, and I hope you forgive me.”

You let out a soft sigh at his words. He did seem sincere. It was a little odd to see Asmo so down. “Alright, I forgive you.” The demon immediately perked up with his usual smile and took your hands in his.

“Thank you [Y/N]! Let me take you out shopping, as a further apology. I’ll buy you anything you like!”

“So we’ve resorted to bribery now?” Asmo giggled at your joke and you nod. “I’ll right. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to get out. Anything I want?” Asmo nodded and made some suggestions on what you could spend his money on as you walked. Inevitably ending up on lingerie, which earned him a smack.

Beel

You had just gotten back from class when you heard the knock at the door. It startled you. You had only just gotten back a moment ago, so what remarkably good timing.

You finish taking off your uniform jacket before you open the door. Startled, yet again, to find Beel behind it. “Beel?”

“Hi [Y/N].”

An awkward silence filled the space, one that hadn’t been there since you first arrived in the Devildom, before you spoke. “I uh…was going to change. I just got back from class.”

“I know. I waited for you to come back.” The red head confessed. Nervously scratching the back of his head. “I wanted…to talk. I wanted to apologize.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” You reply. Now nervously scratching the back of your head as well. “If anything I should apologize.”

Beel was so sweet and kind. But sometimes, his ‘space cadet ways’ over anything that didn’t involve food or fitness was very hard to deal with. He’d forgotten you were supposed to meet, yet again, so when he showed up an hour late for your date yesterday you had given him an ear full. He’d been hurt, but took it. Now you just felt bad, like you had kicked a puppy, with it over.

“But I should have remembered. It’s not fair that I forgot when we were supposed to meet. Again.” He looked upset with himself and fidgeted with his hands. “I really am sorry I forgot. I don’t want you to think you’re not important or anything. I’m just dumb.”

“You’re not dumb!” You scold Beel. Not accepting him putting himself down like that. “Can’t we just agree that we’re both at fault. You should have remembered, but I shouldn’t have yelled at you either. Can’t we just….make up? I hate fighting with you.”

Beel smiled softly and leaned forward to give you a hug. “I hate fighting too. I think I’ll be ok if we both take blame. That seems fair.” He let you go and stepped back. Seeming back to his usual, easy going self already. “Do you want to do a make up date? If you’re free. I can take you to Madam Scream’s or we can go get Fire Iceies.”

You giggle and nod. “Sure. That would be wonderful.”

Belphie

It was so late at night when you heard the knock at your door that, initially, you thought you dreamt it.

Hearing it again, you woke up and threw on your robe over your pjs to go answer the door. Groggy, and a little concerned as to who could be here at this hour. Something must be wrong.

“Belphie?” You question in a whisper. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.” He said. Remarkably less groggy than you were for a change. “I had to see you.”

“In the middle of the night?” You question. Getting more alert and annoyed at being woken up by him.

“Yes. I couldn’t sleep. Imagine that.” His fingers twirl at his long bangs while he looked down at the floor. “I came to apologize.”

“Apologize?” You repeat. Shocked, more than anything, that he was here to apologize. Not that he did deserve an apology to you, you just didn’t think he’d do it.

“Yes. To apologize. Can we make up now?”

“That’s it??” You remark after his ‘apology’. “You say you’re sorry like that and I’m just supposed to forgive you?”

“Yes. That’s how apologies work.”

“No it isn’t!” You snap. Louder than you wanted to with the late hour. You set your teeth and wheeze through them. You don’t want to start another fight. “You apologize because you feel bad about something and want to make it up to the person. It has to be sincere.”

“I am being sincere.” Belphie insisted. “This is sincere as I get.”

“Well it certainly doesn’t feel like it.” You reply. Crossing your arms.

It was Belphie’s turn to sigh at you. “Look. I’m not like Asmo or the others who are great with words. I came to apologize, and that’s it. I was wrong and I wanted to say I’m sorry. That’s the best I can do.”

“Why do you even want to say your sorry? If you don’t sound like you mean it.”

“Because I hate you being angry with me.” You blink in surprise at Belphie’s confession, and he sighed again. “I hate it. I hate not talking to you. I don’t care what anyone else thinks of me, but if you hate me, I can’t stand it. So, I came to apologize. To do anything so you wouldn’t hate me anymore.”

You uncross your arms and scrunch your lips a little bit. “That’s a better apology.” He looked back up at you with a questioning look. Seeming surprised that he had ‘done good’. “And, I don’t hate you. Just because I’m angry with you, for good reason, doesn’t mean I hate you. I could never hate you.”

The demon smiled softly. His expression tired, but hopeful. “Thanks [Y/N].”

“Now, we need to get back to bed. It is the middle of the night after all. And we have school.”

“Ok.” Belphie agreed. Then stepped into your room and made way to your bed.

“In your own room mister!”

#;ask and ye shall receive (request answers) #obey me #obey me beelzebub #obey me mammon #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me belphie #obey me beel #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me levi #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me levi x reader #obey me mammon x reader #obey me asmo #obey me asmo x reader #obey me satan x reader #obey me belpie x reader #lucifer #leviathan #mammon #satan #asmodeous #beelzebub #belphie #obey me imagines #obey me scenarios #imagine #scenarios

[persephone-plasmids]

Trying

A Danse and Nora fic

[Part 1]

[Read on AO3]

Danse woke up before the sun, his chest heavy with the memories of the night before. Nora had kissed him. But she’d also been drunk, so it hadn’t counted.

Of course, that didn’t stop him from reliving the moment in his mind over and over again. He’d hardly slept as he wondered what was worse: Nora remembering the kiss and regretting it, or forgetting about it and the two of them never addressing it again. He wasn’t sure what he could even hope for if she did remember. She’d never reciprocate his feelings. And he couldn’t fault her for that. He was a Synth. An abomination.

Danse scowled up at the ceiling before rolling out of bed, pulling his boots on, and leaving the partially destroyed house in Sanctuary where he now stayed. The settlement had turned into a place for all of Nora’s strays to reside; himself included.

Fog hung heavily in the early morning air as Danse began his normal jog around the perimeter of the settlement. He’d run up the rocky hills to make sure no Raiders had taken up residence overnight then splash through the river a few times to cool himself down before making the jog up the hill to the entrance of Vault 111.

Today, the sight of the large metal vault entrance only made his stomach turn. It reminded him of his interaction with Nora the day before. She’d been grieving the loss of her husband. She’d gotten drunk. And she’d kissed him.

Had he taken advantage of her compromised state? He tried to assure himself that he hadn’t. He’d pushed her away. He’d been the one to stop things before they went further. But he also couldn’t deny that he’d kissed her back. That he’d enjoyed kissing her back. And he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t spent the entire rest of the evening replaying the kiss in extreme detail, imagining what it could have been like if it had gone further.

Danse shook his head, ashamed at his own thoughts as he jogged back down the hill to Sanctuary.

The sun was beginning to melt away the heavy fog and by the time Danse had showered and donned his Brotherhood jumpsuit for the day, the haze was nothing but a distant memory.

There’s no avoiding it forever. I’ve got to go check on Nora, Danse thought to himself as he exited his home and stepped out into the streets of Sanctuary. Settlers were just starting to make their way to their assigned tasks for the day. Some held rifles to guard the perimeter while others grabbed gardening tools. Danse rolled his eyes as Hancock stumbled through the streets with a dazed smile on his face.

“Just getting in, Hancock?” Danse asked, the disapproval heavy in his voice.

“It’s my duty as mayor of Goodneighbor to check on my citizens every now and then,” Hancock replied, the lazy smile still on his scarred features.

“Funny how it’s only the patrons in The Third Rail you seem to check on,” Danse answered.

He hadn’t intended on harassing the Ghoul today. In all honesty, he was trying to be better. Mostly for Nora’s sake, but also because of his own revelation that he wasn’t as purely human as he’d always thought. Danse hated being a hypocrite. But purging his deeply ingrained prejudices from his mind was proving much more difficult than he wanted to admit.

“It’s not my fault I know how to have a good time, Danse,” Hancock said. “If you ever want to loosen the leash Maxson put on you, you’re welcome to join us.”

Danse shook his head at the Ghoul but didn’t respond. He knew he wouldn’t have anything kind to say. Instead, he made his way to Nora’s house, ignoring the stinging reminder from Hancock that he was no longer a member of the Brotherhood.

Standing in front of the door to Nora’s home, Danse squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and knocked. His body told him he needed to leave immediately, because whether or not she remembered the kiss, this interaction would be painful. Seeing her would remind him just how incredible it felt to kiss her… and that he couldn’t do it again. But he didn’t run. He stayed right where he was.

His heart hammered in his chest as the door knob turned, but it wasn’t Nora who greeted him. Instead, Deacon stood in the doorway wearing Nora’s old flowery apron over his usual T-shirt and jeans, raising his ginger eyebrows behind his sunglasses.

“Morning sunshine,” the spy said with a grin.

“Deacon?” Danse asked, his confusion slowly turning to anger as it always seemed to. He needed to work on that. “What are you doing in Nora’s house this early?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, soldier?” Deacon asked. “But a gentleman never kisses and tells.”

Danse set his jaw firmly as he stared at the man in front of him. He was already calculating how much physical damage it would do if he punched Deacon right then and there. The spy would live. But Nora would never forgive Danse. So he refrained.

“Oh man, I can see all those little Brotherhood cogs turning in your brain. It would be adorable if it wasn’t so sad,” Deacon said with a laugh. “At ease, soldier. I was totally kidding. Just wanted to get a rise out of you. I didn’t realize it would be quite so effective.”

Danse could hear the laughter in Deacon’s voice, but it was muted by the sound of his own blood rushing through his body.

He definitely needed to work on his anger management skills.

“Where is Nora?” Danse asked simply, refusing to acknowledge just how close he’d been to getting into a physical altercation with Deacon.

Danse was usually close to getting into a fight with Deacon, but the idea that the spy had slept with Nora was definitely the thing that would have pushed him over the edge… had it been true.

“I feel like out of the two of us, you’re the one who should know she headed over to the Prydwyn before dawn,” Deacon answered, turning around and heading back into Nora’s kitchen without another look in Danse’s direction.

The Paladin followed the spy and perched on one of the barstools at the counter.

Deacon, still wearing the flowery apron, was stirring mirelurk eggs in a frying pan.

“Nora went to the Prydwyn?” Danse asked, his mind trying to play catch up. “Why?”

“Personally, I don’t think she needs to keep things friendly with the Brotherhood of Bigots anymore now that The Institute is destroyed, but she said something about an open line of communication between the factions and blah, blah, blah.” Deacon shook his head. “Maxson said he wanted to meet with her about something or other. Probably wants to start a fun petition forbidding Ghouls from speaking or something.”

“Maxson asked for her?” Danse repeated. This gave him pause.

There was a time when Danse had worshipped Maxson. He’d thought the man could do no wrong. That was, of course, until Maxson had wanted him killed for being a Synth. Danse could understand the difficult position Maxson had been placed in, but after their years of friendship, he still had a hard time with just how quickly the Elder had turned on him.

He also saw the way Maxson looked at Nora when Danse had still been allowed aboard the Prydwyn. The Elder was young and Nora was beautiful. It only made sense that he’d look at her the way he did. But Danse didn’t like it, even though he was fairly certain the only reason he was still alive was because Nora had been the one to convince Maxson to spare him. Danse wasn’t sure anyone else could have swayed the Elder the way she did.

“Do I sense a love triangle? Because you know I love some juicy gossip,” Deacon said, grinning over at the Paladin and plopping some eggs onto a plate for him.

“That’s inappropriate, civilian,” Danse said, staring at the eggs in front of him and wondering why on earth Deacon would ever make him food. They hated each other.

“Hate to break it to you, tin can, but you’re a civilian now too,” Deacon said, taking a seat beside Danse with his own plate of eggs.

“You and I are not the same,” Danse emphasized, taking a bite out of the eggs. They were surprisingly good.

“You’re completely right,” Deacon agreed, though Danse could tell from his tone that he wasn’t going to like what came next. “I’ve been able to let go of my bigoted ways, while you still look at Hancock and Valentine like they’re Mirelurk scat on your boot.”

“That’s…” Danse began, but he didn’t know what to really say. Deacon wasn’t wrong. Danse wasn’t doing a great job of changing his deeply ingrained beliefs.

“Admitting you have a problem is the first step, champ,” Deacon said, with a soft pat on Danse’s shoulder.

It would have been a kind gesture, if the spy hadn’t immediately snorted from trying to hold back his laughter.

“I’m… trying,” Danse managed to say, even if it felt like injecting a Stimpack directly into his temple to utter the words.

Deacon glanced over at Danse for a moment, but it was hard for the Paladin to read his expression behind the sunglasses. He had to remind himself that this was probably the reason the spy always wore them.

“A good first step would be to actually spend some time with the people you hate,” Deacon offered, being surprisingly helpful. “You might find that you actually have some fun with Hancock. Plus, you and Valentine are a bit more alike than you might think. He’s a giant stick in the mud too.”

Danse huffed under his breath and simply said, “Noted,” before taking another bite of eggs.

The two men chewed in silence for a moment before the front door opened and Nora strode in wearing the all-black Brotherhood of Steel jumpsuit reserved for high-ranking officials.

Danse’s eyes involuntarily roamed over just how perfectly the jumpsuit fit her curves, though he immediately hated himself for the very visceral reaction the image gave him.

“Deacon Marie Jones! What are you doing in my apron?” Nora asked dramatically, walking up behind the spy and wrapping her arms around him in a familiar embrace.

This did nothing to lessen Danse’s animosity towards the spy.

“Your middle name is Marie?” Danse asked.

“I just make up names for him,” Nora replied. “Since he won’t tell anyone his real name.”

Deacon leaned backward into Nora’s embrace as she held him tightly before finally releasing him. Danse hated how casual their physical contact was. She wasn’t like that with the Paladin.

“I thought we agreed the apron looks better on me,” Deacon said.

“Everything looks better on you, Deacon,” Nora agreed with a laugh, walking over to the frying pan and scooping a few eggs for herself. “I bet even this ridiculous black jumpsuit would look better on you.”

Danse refrained from pointing out how false that statement was.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen someone look so good in a jumpsuit before.

“Give yourself some credit, Charmer,” Deacon said, his voice as smooth as ever. “There are only so many people who can pull off a dog collar.”

“It’s not a dog collar,” Danse mumbled, finding himself irrationally annoyed by the comment.

Nora’s lips quirked up into a grin as she set her plate down and walked over to Danse. The Paladin swiveled in his barstool to face her but he didn’t anticipate just how close she’d get to him. Nora walked right up to Danse, positioning herself between his knees as she grinned down at him.

Danse swallowed hard as his dark eyes met hers. She took one finger and hooked it under the metal ring at the neck of Danse’s Brotherhood uniform and gave it a soft tug. She didn’t manage to pull him closer from his sitting position, but it did cause her to take another step closer to him, now standing squarely between his thighs.

“What exactly would you call it then, Paladin?” Nora asked, raising a challenging eyebrow at him.

Danse felt like his heart might actually beat out of his chest as he stared up at her. She still had a firm grasp on the clasp at his neck and he worried she’d be able to visibly see the nervous way he swallowed.

“It’s… It’s an attachment for the Power Armor,” he managed to choke out.

He hated that Deacon was here to witness just how easily Nora could set him off balance.

“I guess your big brown puppy dog eyes just make the term ‘dog collar’ feel more fitting,” Nora answered with a smirk.

He could feel the heat of her hips against his thighs but tried with every fiber of his being to ignore it. Their close proximity was only making it more difficult for him to focus.

Thankfully, Nora released her grasp on the metal ring and stepped back around the counter to retrieve her eggs. “Thanks for the breakfast, Deeks,” Nora said casually, as if she hadn’t just upended Danse’s entire world.

“Just paying off my debt to society,” Deacon said, finishing his own plate off and rinsing it in the sink. “I should have never suggested that game of strip poker.”

Danse’s eyes widened at this comment but Nora just shook her head with a laugh.

“He bet me that I couldn’t convince a Diamond City guard to give me their uniform.”

“I didn’t take into account that she wouldn’t use stealth to get what she wanted,” Deacon said with a scowl. “I still think it’s cheating if you use your feminine wiles.”

“You’re just mad that you have to make me breakfast every Tuesday for a month,” Nora said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

Deacon shook his head and grinned. “Well I’m off to go start some rumors around Diamond City that Piper is actually a Ghoul. Wish me luck.”

“You’ll need it,” Nora replied before the spy disappeared, leaving her and Danse alone.

Danse took a deep breath, wondering if he wanted to come right out and ask Nora if she remembered what had happened the night before, or if it would be better to just ignore it.

He decided on the coward’s way out.

“What did Maxson want?” Danse asked, trying to sound uninterested.

“Ugh, that man,” Nora began, exasperation heavy in her voice. “He wanted to try to convince me to pledge my exclusive loyalty to the Brotherhood again. But I told him, for the millionth time, I’m not going to abandon The Railroad or The Minutemen. There’s no reason we can’t all play nice.”

“I’m sure he loved that,” Danse answered, a genuine smile now playing on his lips.

“He threw a bit of a tantrum,” Nora agreed. “Luckily no one was around to see it. He had me meet him in his private quarters this time.”

Danse raised an eyebrow, still trying to pretend like he wasn’t incredibly interested in this particular point. “Oh?”

“I think he thought it might intimidate me if we were alone,” Nora laughed. “He poured me a drink, stood in front of his Brotherhood of Steel flag, and tried to look super intimidating.”

“And?”

“And it didn’t work,” Nora said, giving Danse one of the smiles that made her eyes crinkle in the corners while his heart melted into a puddle inside of him. “My affection isn’t that easily swayed.”

“Of course,” Danse responded simply.

He could feel Nora’s eyes on him as he looked back down at his now empty plate. He was running out of reasons to be in her kitchen but he wasn’t quite ready to leave yet.

“How are you feeling?” Danse began cautiously. “Do you have a headache from that bourbon last night?”

That was casual, right? That was something a totally normal friend would say whether or not they’d kissed the night before… wasn’t it?

“I had a bit of a headache this morning,” Nora began. She was pushing the eggs around on her plate with her fork but not taking a bite. Her eyes were no longer on Danse; now she seemed laser focused on the food in front of her. “I told you I wasn’t that drunk.”

Danse’s cheeks instantly flushed at her words.

She remembered.

She remembered and she really was lucid enough to know that she was kissing him.

What did that mean? Did he ask her about it? Did he ask if she regretted it or did he even dare to hope that she actually somehow felt something for him other than friendship or fondness?

“You can hold your liquor well,” was all the Paladin said, also staring intently at his own plate.

If anyone had walked by the scene in the kitchen, they’d think the two were Synths whose recall codes had been read to them.

The silence between them pressed on for a few moments before Nora softly cleared her throat.

“Listen, Danse… I’m sorry about what happened. You were totally right that I wasn’t thinking straight and… I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

Danse felt his entire chest tighten at her words.

She regretted it. She wished it hadn’t happened. He’d made her uncomfortable.

And now that he knew she remembered everything, he felt even worse for kissing her back. What could she possibly think of him now? That he was just like the rest of the Wastelanders; ready to take advantage of an inebriated woman at the drop of a hat?

What did he say to make this better?

“I’m… I shouldn’t have… engaged,” he said quietly. It wasn’t what he wanted to say, but Danse had never been good with things like emotions. Synth or not, talking about his feelings wasn’t something he ever thought he’d be comfortable with.

Danse dared a glance up at Nora who was still looking down at her plate. She was frowning with something like disappointment in her eyes.

“I should probably get changed out of this jumpsuit,” she said after another moment of awkward silence. “Preston has a place nearby that he wants me to check out to set up a possible settlement.”

“Of course,” Danse responded, a bit too quickly. “I’ve got some work to do on my power armor.”

Nora nodded as Danse stood up and made his way towards the door.

Before he touched the handle, he heard Nora’s voice, soft and hesitant.

“Would you… want to come with me?”

#fo4 #fallout #fallout 4 #danse #paladin danse #nora #sole survivor #fanfic #fallout fanfic #fallout fic #fallout 4 fanfic #fallout companions #danse x sole #danse x nora #danse x sole survivor

[sohotthateveryonedied]

Gender? In THIS Economy?

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

Duke is questioning stuff and goes to Tim for advice. (feat. trans!Tim and nonbinary!Duke)

“Here you go. One Batburger with extra pickles, extra onions, and extra extra mayonnaise.” Duke drops the paper takeout bag unceremoniously into Tim’s lap. “Your taste buds need a tune-up, bro.”

Tim unwraps his burger and takes a bite. Batburger may be questionable when it comes to copyright laws, but damn if they don’t pile on the condiments better than any fast food restaurant in Gotham. “Sounds to me like you simply haven’t reached the sky-scraping level of enlightenment that I have, grasshopper.”

“Enlightenment would have been going to Red Robin and using your uniform to get a discount,” Duke says. He sits beside Tim on the rooftop’s edge, their legs dangling side by side a hundred feet above Gotham’s plunging gray streets. He digs into his own burger and makes a face. “Enlightenment would also be getting the Robin Nuggets next time. This tastes like dried leather.”

“I like it,” Tim says with a shrug. “It has personality.”

“So does raw sewage, but you don’t see me eating that.”

Tim concedes the point. His communicator buzzes in his belt. He checks the screen and discovers an alert from Cass composed entirely of clown emojis and red harlequin diamonds.

Duke notices. “Should we get that?”

Tim pockets the communicator. “Nah, Spoiler’s got it. We have time to relax.” And he’s not about to pass up quality time with the one little brother who doesn’t hate him. It’s hard enough as it is for Tim and Duke to find the time, what with them being on opposite sleeping schedules and work snatching their attention away with grabby, toddler-sized hands.

“Don’t get a lot of that during the day shift,” Duke says. “Every time an alarm goes off, it’s my business.”

Tim knocks him in the side with his elbow. “That’s what you get for turning to the light side instead of kicking it in the shadows with us. More employees to go around.” He sips his soda for a moment. “Why did you come out tonight, anyway? I thought you stayed in on weeknights.”

“Right. I actually wanted to talk to you about something.” Duke says it carefully, like he’s testing the waters. “I need advice.”

Tim has to admit that his chest puffs out a little at that. It’s not often people come to him for advice when Dick and Barbara are right there, all full of adult wisdom that Tim is too pitifully shrimpy to possess. “What’s up?”

“It’s kind of...personal.”

“Yes, Bruce does have special powder for suit-chafing. It’s in the cabinet under the first-aid supplies.”

“It’s not that,” Duke says, though he snorts in half-hearted laughter. He looks down at his hands like he’s dreading the words lodged in his throat. “What was it like, realizing you were a dude?”

One of Tim’s eyebrows shoots up. “Oh.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. It’s an invasive question.”

“No, no, it’s fine. You just caught me off guard, is all.” It’s not like this is the first time someone has asked. Tim used to be uncomfortable talking about it, but he’s grown up since then. Talking about his trans journey is as normal as talking about what he did yesterday. He eats a fry. “What do you want to know?”

Duke searches Tim’s face for a sign that he’s lying, that he should back off. When he doesn’t find one, he asks, “How old were you when you figured it out?”

Tim thinks back. “Nine, I think? But even before that, it’s not like I ever really felt like a girl. I knew there was something wrong, but I didn’t know what. When I first heard about what being transgender meant, everything I’d been feeling until then clicked into place.”

“What was it like?” Duke asks, “growing up the way you did? Presenting as a girl when you knew you weren’t?”

Tim shrugs. “I don’t know. It was life at the time. I dealt with it.”

“Was it hard? Pretending to be something you weren’t?”

Tim doesn’t know what answer Duke is looking for, or why he’s so interested, but he won’t ask. “My parents always had this idea of me being the perfect daughter, all obedient and graceful and crap. I’m pretty sure their hope was to eventually marry me off to the highest bidder so they could reap the business benefits.”

“That sounds awful.”

Tim shrugs again. “I didn’t start feeling any different than I should have until around six or seven. I was always a tomboy. I liked doing boy stuff and playing sports, but my parents thought it was a phase I would grow out of. They’d make me wear dresses and go to fancy parties with them, all the while I just wanted to claw my skin off and go home.”

He remembers the nights he would lie awake in bed, imagining what it must be like to have been born someone else. Anyone else. To grow up as a little boy who was allowed to run around, to get dirty, to be himself instead of following some arbitrary guidelines someone else drew up the day he was born. He imagined what it would feel like to answer to a different name than the one he’d been given, which grated on his ears the longer time went on, like an itchy sweater he couldn’t shed. It was hell.

He gives Duke a sly grin. “But the upside of having absent parents is that there aren’t as many people watching you. No one cared if I went to school in the boy’s uniform instead of the girl’s. No one was there to stop me from cutting my hair short the way I wanted it.”

Duke's eyes widen. “You cut your own hair?”

“It went exactly the way you’re thinking. I had to go to the barber the next day and have them fix it because it was so uneven. But by the end of the day, it was the way I always imagined it. I was finally starting to look like the person I wanted to be.”

Duke stares intently at the remains of his burger as if the universe’s answers to an unspoken question were written in sesame seeds. “Did it get better after that? Did you feel...at peace?”

“‘Course not. The world wasn’t magically fixed just because I took a step in the right direction. My problems didn’t go away.” When he says that, Duke looks almost...disappointed? “But,” Tim adds, “it was better than it was before. I still had to act for my parents and the rest of the world, but I didn’t have to hide from myself anymore.”

“How did your parents react when they found out?”

Tim grimaces. “They...didn’t take it well.” He can still hear his father’s voice in his memories, bringing up therapy and camps and whatever places he could think of that would “fix” his little girl.

“But, after a while,” Tim continues, “it was clear that I wasn’t going to change my mind anytime soon. I guess they figured it would be easier to go along with it than fight me every step of the way. They still didn’t like it, but they tolerated it.”

Duke is quiet.

“Why do you ask?” Tim prods.

Duke’s expression doesn’t give anything away. It’s nights like this when Tim can see how perfectly Duke fits into this mental institution they call a family. For all that Duke thrives in the light, he keeps his cards just as close to his chest as the rest of them. He gives Tim a half-smile. “Just wondering.”

“Okay.”

They fall into weighted silence, the scales tipping on either side of their post, but never settling. Tim waits. He finishes his burger and busies himself with reorganizing the pouches in his belt, giving Duke the privacy to think.

“I don’t know,” Duke starts after several minutes, “if I’m a boy.” He looks at Tim. “I think I might be something else.”

“Okay,” Tim says calmly. “What do you feel like?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve always felt different, y’know? When I was a kid, it was because I was smarter than everyone in my class. And it was fine, because I knew what it was and how it worked and why it was a good thing, being the smart one. It made sense. Time went on, the other kids started catching up, but that mismatched feeling never went away. I never felt right in my skin.”

Duke’s face rises to the dark clouds, the Batsignal shining from the top of the police station like a holy beacon. “Then I met Batman. My powers started to come in and everything clicked into place, all at once. That was why I never felt like I fit in with everyone else, because I was different. I had powers. That must have been it.”

“But it wasn’t,” Tim guesses.

Duke shakes his head. “I thought it would be. I mean, what else could it have been, you know? It should have explained why I never felt at home in my identity. But time goes on, I learn how to use my powers, and it fixes some of it, but not everything. There’s still part of me that looks in the mirror and sees something off. Some detail out of place.”

“Do you feel like a girl?” Tim ventures to ask.

Duke folds over the corner of his straw wrapper again and again in tiny triangles. “Nah, I doubt it. I like some feminine things, but I don’t think I’m a girl. Or a guy. I think...I might be nonbinary?”

Tim does his best to channel Bruce’s “supportive dad” energy and smiles. “Okay. What pronouns do you want to use?”

“They/them, maybe? For a while?”

“Duly noted.” He puts a hand on Duke’s shoulder. “I really do appreciate you telling me.”

Duke rubs the back of their neck, their cheeks flushing. “It feels good to say out loud. Not just in my head.”

“Do you think you’re going to tell anyone else? You don’t have to if you’re not ready, but our whole family will support you.”

“Yeah.” Duke picks at their nails, nodding absently. “I know they will. I’m not worried about that.”

“Then what are you worried about?”

Duke takes a deep breath in, and Tim is reminded of a balloon close to bursting. “My parents aren’t dead. I’m going to get them back. And when I do...what are they going to think when they wake up after half a decade and find out that their son isn’t their son anymore? What if they don’t like the person they see?”

Tim can’t say that he hadn’t swum with the same thoughts years ago, back when the person who is Tim Drake was still on the drawing board. But there’s a difference between his situation and Duke’s. “Your parents love you, Duke. They’re not going to stop loving you just because you’ve grown up since they last saw you.”

“What if it’s too much? The superpowers and the crime-fighting and the new gender...it’s a lot to take in.”

“Well, sure,” Tim says. “It might take some time for them to get used to it, but this is who you are. They’re going to love it just as much as they love the rest of you.”

Duke smiles, and if their eyes are a little misty, Tim pretends not to notice.

“Besides,” he says. “If I were you, I’d just lead with the superpowers thing. Anything after that sounds perfectly acceptable.”

#i know this is choppy i'm sorry i just got sick of staring at the word doc #i want to focus on writing but the other half of my brain is like 24/7 #ravencycleravencycleRAVENCYCLE #it's a struggle #duke thomas #the signal #dc signal #tim drake #red robin #robin #batman #batman and robin #batman and the signal #batfamily #batfam #trans tim drake #nonbinary duke thomas #trans duke thomas #pride month #fanfiction #fanfic

[youn9racha]

Otters In The Sea

Pairing: bf!youngjae x gn!reader

Genre: fluff

Words: 1.1k

Warning brief mention of sex (nothing happens though), seas and large bodies, mentions of death (but they’re used as sarcasm and humor), youngjae being adorable, sunburns doesn’t exist in this universe lmfaooo put sunscreen kids, but yeah youngjae best boy

Extra Notes: another writing piece for another birthday of my other favorite boy <33 happy birthday to youngjae !!!! i hope you have a blessing birthday, and im sorry for this terrible piece </3

——————————————————————————

This is no way representative of the way Got7 act. They’re nothing but references of character, and in no shape or form is this how they act. And I am in no way romanticizing or glamorizing any toxic behavior exhibited, they’re just stories that is meant to be read. Readers discretion is advised.

—————————————————————————

“Youngjae!”

You called his name as you walk around the hallway of your beach house to look for the man with the name you’ve been calling out. You and Youngjae opted to have a getaway for his birthday and rented a beach house for the two of you to celebrate, relax and have an intimate little one-on-one session, as neither of you had it due to his stressful schedule.

You found this beautiful beach house, where the backyard is practically a private beach, just for the two of you to sit on the sand and admire the beautiful big blue body of water in front you, where no one can see and interrupt your admiration towards it. Youngjae wasn’t a big beach man, but he did like the thought of owning a private beach house just for the two of you. Put private and “you and him” together, and Youngjae’s sold to any idea, whether he likes doing it/going to it or not.

Nevertheless, Youngjae does want to be away from the public for a bit, and you surprising him with a romantic and unwinding getaway was perfect and he never felt more in love with you for reading his mind.

You two left two days prior to his birthday and you used the first two to walk around and get to know the area. You have so much to unpack for his birthday, and you weren’t about to reveal everything before the special day.

You walked around the beach, hand in hand, as you two just walked to look at the crashing mini wave coming up to the shore. “You know, as much as I love this, why the beach?” Youngjae abruptly asked, breaking the silence. You simply just shrugged, “it’s pretty, just like the birthday boy,” Youngjae rolled his eyes at your cheesy line, making you laugh at his reaction and holding onto his arm even tighter.

“I’m gonna dump you into the sea one day“ Youngjae jokingly remarked after you laughed, to which you teasingly stuck your tongue, “we’ll see if you can try.”

Thie conversation happened yesterday, and today you woke up without feeling your boyfriend next to your bed, which confused you, as Youngjae typically wakes up slightly later than you did. You groaned to yourself, “ugh, where did he go?” as you pushed your blanket away from your body and started your scavenger hunt for him—not before you brush your teeth and doing your skincare, of course.

You called out his name and you checked every room to find Youngjae’s presence. You checked the kitchen, the living room, the other bathroom, you checked everywhere to no avail. You knew he wouldn’t leave, because he could have at least texted you that he’ll be gone, and there was only one area where you could suspect that he’d be out in.

You opened the sliding door, walked out and stood against the railing, chuckling at yourself for your unbelievable suspension being correct. There was Youngjae, in his swimsuit, laying face up in the large waters, his whole hair submerged in the water, so much so you can only see his face, arms, legs and upper torso.

He looked really relaxed, but you had to interrupt his relaxing session, “are you meditating?!” you exclaimed out, hoping he could hear you, despite-from what you can see-his ears being underwater.

“No! I died!”

Youngjae exclaimed back as you laughed at his response. You got down and walked up to the shore. As you get closer, you can see Youngjae even clearer, for someone who hates the beach, he looked really beautiful. He could pass off as a mermaid due to the way he glows in the water, despite the slight red mark of burn starting to form in his exposed skin, however it does seem to be that he has put on sunblock as the bottle was situated next to the towel he laid out in the sand.

But all in all, he felt really relaxed and in tune with himself at this moment, and you couldn’t help yourself but feel the same, even though you were just stood there looking at your boyfriend.

As you were in deep thoughts, without realizing, you suddenly found yourself underwater, the cold water surrounds you and touches your skin in an unexpected way. You quickly realized that Youngjae pulled you into the water, so you pulled yourself up quickly, gasping for air, to find Youngjae no longer in the laying position and laughing at you.

“Choi Youngjae, I’m gonna murder you!” You yelled and began splashing water at him, to which he let out a “hey!“ and you both start to splash water at each other. You two were enjoying the water as the sun slowly fry both of you, but neither of you cared or stopped you from playing, as Youngjae got out of the water and running out of the water, you chasing after him.

You both ran across the sand trying to catch each other and laughing at each other’s clumsy run as both wet feet going against the rubber sandals wasn’t an ideal running shoes. But it didn’t stop either of you going after each other.

Youngjae suddenly stopped his tracks and began going after you, making you run the other way, until he held a grab of you and picked you up.

”Youngjae!” You screamed as he twirled and put you in his shoulder. He set you in in the towel laid, both laughter died down as you two laid down on the towel. Sure the towel was small, but you two managed to fit in.

Youngjae looked down at you, his palm situated in his temple, “did you put sunscreen?” he asked, it was both random but fitting as you two are literally laying under the deadly star, to which you nodded, “yes, Youngjae, I have,” you giggled at him.

”Good,” he whispered as he leans in and attaches his lips into yours. The kiss was loving, chaste, yet passionate, it was a soft moment for the both of you. You were grateful for each other, neither of you would have thought that you would be obsessed with each other like that, but here you are, absolutely in love.

He pulls away as he looks down at you with a smile.

“Happy Birthday, baby,” you smiled, holding onto his cheek, and carassing it slowly and carefully, in fear he gotten any burn, which thankfully he didn’t react, meaning it wasn’t that bad.

“Thank you.”

#got7 fanfic #got7 fluff #got7 scenarios #got7 imagines #got7 drabble #youngjae scenarios #youngjae fluff #youngjae imagine #youngjae drabble #youngjae fanfic

[keanureevesisbae]

Protection Chapter 6

Summary: Mia and August are in the safehouse, but Mia has a plan, since she really doesn’t want to be here. 

August Walker x Mia Makaruku (ofc)

Wordcount: 5.4k

Warnings: Mentions of stabbing and guns.

Masterlist // Protection Masterlist // Previous Chapter

1 hour at the safe house

After the three hour drive, August and I arrive at this safe house. It’s the middle of the night and normally I’m in a deep and nice sleep, spooning Bobo and dreaming about some sort of male celebrity to ease my mind. That is not the case now, despite my brain being dog tired, but it’s also running over time.

The safe house is like every ordinary house, but maybe that is exactly what we need. We need to fit in with the rest of the world, not sticking out like sore thumbs.

Bobo is already acclimated to the place, curling himself up on the sofa, purring loudly as he is about to drift off to sleep.

Me on the other hand, can’t relax for shit. I’m pacing (no, not pacing, limping) through the living room, desperately hoping to remember something. It doesn’t matter what. Maybe something about my family, something that is a dead give away I’m not part of this weird family who had access to the safe. Maybe something about what happened between the crash and me sitting on the curb, holding my arm as I was waiting for help.

Or something that would get me out of this place.

August was my safe haven for the drive here, but I don’t know what to think of him. Do I believe him when he says he’ll protect me? Yes, especially what happened to me on the parking lot.

Do I trust him?

I have no idea…

Is he soft and kind to me?

Yes.

And is that everything I need for now?

I hate to admit it, but yes…

I let out a deep sigh. While I keep on wishing I need to be with someone who I feel safe with, it’s brutally obvious that… August is the only one who can both protect me and make me feel safe. I think about his strong arms wrapped around my body, my forehead resting against his chest and him allowing me to hold his hand. I know that’s not what he wants, or at least, what he would initiate, but he lets me. He lets me hold him, lean on him and cry on him.

And that sure means something right? He understands and gives in to my needs.

I turn on my foot, but since my brain is nearly frying itself, I forget this one hurts. I wince and sit on the floor, holding my ankle tightly. Tears trickle down my cheeks, without me actually crying.

I just want to go home, to my own psychical therapist who could help me out. I need normalcy back in my life.  

‘What are you doing?’

My head jerks up, to discover August standing near the kitchen, leaning against the wall. The softness I felt during the way here, it disappeared. Maybe because I wasn’t responding well to it, or because I was responding to it a bit too much. I have been a snotty and hopeless mess since early Monday morning, when I found out about the file.

‘I was pacing.’

He walks into the living room and stops in front of me. ‘You need to be careful.’

‘Well spotted. I can see the CIA training taught you well.’

August sighs. ‘I think you need a new gauge on it.’ He holds out his hand and with a groan I take it. He pulls me up, but when I’m standing, his arm glides underneath my knees and back, carrying me to the kitchen. He does it so effortlessly and without a thought. Maybe that softness is still there. Maybe he does care. He places me on the counter and takes off my shoe.

‘That hurts,’ I hisses.

‘I know,’ he says. He opens a few cabinets, but doesn’t see what he was looking for. ‘Wait here.’

He wanders out of the kitchen and comes back with my mug. The one with the flowers. The one I left at his place. He fills it with water and holds it in front of me, together with a strip of painkillers. ‘Did you bring this with you?’ I ask him, as I wrap my fingers around the mug.

He nods.

‘Why?’

‘Because it’s home and I figured you could need it.’ He ushers me to take the painkiller and I do what he asks me to do. I lean back, with my head against the cabinet doors. He grabs a dusty barstool and places my foot on his lap.

‘August,’ I whisper.

‘Yes?’

‘I don’t hate you.’

He looks up. ‘I know.’

‘I’m just scared.’

‘I know that too.’ He takes off my sock and bandage and checks my ankle, that is swelling and turning red. ‘I think I need to provide you with a brace. Or do you have one with you?’

I shake my head. ‘I left it at home, I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t apologize,’ he snaps and I tense up. Just because he isn’t apologizing, he all of the sudden has this personal vendetta against me doing it. ‘I’ll try and arrange something. For now a new bandage will do.’

While he prepares the new bandages, I carefully place my hand on his cheek as I lean forward. He lets it happen and maybe I’m totally hallucinating, but I think he is leaning against my hand. ‘You sure you’ll protect me?’

‘I will,’ he answers in a dead serious tone.

‘Even Bobo?’

August looks up and bites back a smile. ‘Especially Bobo.’

5 hours at the safe house

I’m back at the crime scene, but this time I’m not a young girl anymore. I’m the me of today. I walk around the car wreck, spotting the limb bodies of other me’s family. I notice a young girl sitting on the curb. Me on the curb. Clutching my arm and simply staring at the wreck, as someone without a recognizable face drags away the body of a teenage boy, while another man drags away the body of a man.

They look deceased, but as of right now, they could be unconscious.

A woman, who is just as unidentifiable as the other men, crouches down in front of me. ‘Vanaf nu, is jouw naam Mia,’ she tells me. From now on, your name is Mia.

The young girl—me—shakes her head. ‘Nee, dat ben ik niet.’ No, I’m not.

‘Jawel, luister goed. Als iemand er naar vraag, jij heet Mia. Mia Makaruku. M-A-K-A-R-U-K-U.’ Yes, listen carefully. If someone asks, you’re Mia. Mia Makaruku. M-A-K-A-R-U-K-U.’

With a jolt I’m wide awake. I look around me, expecting to find Bobo for some emotional support, but he is not here. I could use a hug, to be honest and Bobo is the one that I wished was right here to hug me. I slip on some warm socks and get out of my bed. No, the bed in the safe house. It’s not mine. It smells musty. My bed always smells like lavender.

‘Bobo,’ I whisper shout, ‘where are you?’

I see August’s door is opened ajar and I peek inside, only to see Bobo curled up on the windowsill, while August isn’t asleep. He looks up and flicks on his light. ‘What’s wrong?’

I want to make a stupid remark about Bobo sleeping here and how they are becoming close buddies and how it should make me jealous, but it can’t seem to leave my lips. I simply lean against the doorframe and fumble with my shirt.

‘Mia, what’s up?’

‘I had a memory,’ I whisper, but it’s loud enough for him to hear. I close the door and I walk over to his bed. I sit on the edge, staring at Bobo, who is still asleep and doesn’t really care I walked in. Looks like I’m traded in for. Nice to know that my lovely cat will trade me for someone with testosterone. ‘My name is not Mia Makaruku.’ I tell him what the memory is about. I don’t feel tears coming up, but to be fair, I have cried for hours on end.

August sits up straight next to be on the edge. ‘You know what your real name is?’

I shake my head. ‘That was all I wanted to tell you.’ I want to stand up again, but August grabs my wrist and forces me on his bed again. ‘What?’

‘I know it’s hard.’

‘How?’ I ask him. ‘Because this all happened to you when you were younger? Did you have a promising career, that was put on hold because someone swooped into your life and all of the sudden you realize you are not who you think you are?’

He doesn’t say anything, but I simply pull my wrist out of his grasp, grab Bobo and march back into my room.

1 day at the safe house

I came to the conclusion that in no way, I can stay here in this safe house.

August is keeping a close eye on me and I have to tell him what I’m going to do every single time I leave the room. Even when I just need to pee! This whole situation is suffocating me. I wished he would just be a bit more relaxed, less controlling and just back the fuck off.

Ever since I had my first memory, I have been thinking about it, nearly giving myself a painful headache. But I don’t remember anything.

When I was wandering through the house, I confiscated a letter opener, to use it as some sort of weapon. Who knows if I might need it one day. And that one day might come sooner than I think.

I’m sitting in the living room, as the blinds are closed, leaving us with the lights on, in the middle of the day. I can barely sit anymore, so I walk towards a wall and do a handstand against it. I hear some bones in my shoulders crack.

For a top athlete, going from intense training to nothing, it’s unhealthy. I read about those people who get heart attacks after they retire and get a heart attack within the first week of doing nothing, after a very intensive job for forty years.

While I’m not suspecting a heart attack anytime soon and I shouldn’t compare this situation to retirement, I’m keeping it in mind.

Is it your left arm that starts to hurt when you have a nearing heart attack?

‘What are you doing?’

I roll my eyes, but he doesn’t see that. ‘I would swear you’re blind,’ I say, as I get back on my feet. ‘I was bowling, you happy now?’

August doesn’t say anything. He simply walks over to the couch and sits on my spot. Man spreading is tame in comparison with what he is doing. I think it’s a good thing this man wears pants, because I could’ve looked right up his ass and do an internal examination, without trying.

That’s quite the picture, Mia… What are you doing to yourself?

I turn around and let out a gasp when the doorbell rings three times very short. August stands up and ushers me to come over. I don’t understand why, but he looks pissed and I better listen to him. I limp towards him and he pushes me behind him. When he opens the door, he simply takes the package after signing for it and closes the door. ‘What was that about?’

‘Better be safe than sorry.’ He opens the package without using scissors (which is weird, because I would’ve needed a scissor or a knife to open it, but to each their own) and hands me my new ankle brace.

‘Oh,’ I say, when I see he actually arranged a real good one. Maybe he cares in his weird way… ‘Thanks.’

He doesn’t say anything about it. ‘I’ll start lunch.’

3 days at the safe house

It has been two days since I found the letter opener and I don’t think he suspects a thing. The hours pass by without a mishap. I let him check my ankle twice a day, I try to get him to like Bobo (no success so far and that’s all on August) and we watch the stars every night, since that’s the only time he lets me out of the house.

Pretending I made peace with the situation, gave me enough opportunities to plan my escape. Even when he made me a hot water bottle the other night because I was shivering, even when he suggested to cut the onions, so I wouldn’t get teary eyed and that time when he carried me to bed.

Even when he makes me feel like no one else made me before, I cannot stay here. I have read the files, I have seen where he hides our passports, I know where he hides his guns. I can escape.

Especially now, since I don’t want him near me anymore.

The only way I can actually lock him up, is by luring him into the basement and that sounds painfully scary, I admit, but I have to try. I’d rather die trying, than give up and sit here like I’ve given up on life.

I have to leave him.

Everything is all set and done in my bedroom, ready for me to leave. If I can’t hide it in my room (the car keys, the file or the passports and of course his guns) I know exactly where to find it.

I’m standing in some tight black leggings and a cropped sweater in the basement, trying to find something on the top shelve I could desperately need and I can’t reach. Pasta sauce? That seems like something I could use.

I have made some food in these past couple of days and I have yet to make some pasta. It sounds like me to try something new.

Normally I wouldn’t wear something that accentuates my ass this much, but I have to distract him some way, so maybe this’ll do. I don’t know, I have never done this before. Sure, I’ve kissed, but never anything further than that. Being a professional athlete, you barely have time to date.

Or that’s just me, I don’t know. Other girls seemed to find time to date…

My heart is pounding painfully fast in my chest. You can say about August Walker whatever you want, but that man looks terrifyingly experienced. He seems like the type of man who can rip you apart and you’d beg him to do so again.

It’s now or never, Mia.

‘August!’ I yell.

It takes a second before he answers. ‘Yes?’

‘Can you help me out?’

Asking him for something, is the way to his heart.

I hear his descending footsteps and I turn around, to see him approaching me. ‘Can you reach the pasta sauce for me?’ I ask. ‘I wanted to make pasta tonight.’

August simply nods and stretches himself to grab the package from the top shelf. ‘Anything else?’

I bite my lip, before shaking my head.

‘There is something on your mind,’ he says. ‘What is it?’

This man reads me like a book. I hate it. ‘Nothing, it’s silly, really.’ That and I might chicken out right now. Maybe this isn’t such a fantastic well thought out plan, though I thought about it non stop for the past forty eight hours.

But, am I seeing this correctly? Is he smiling? ‘Tell me this then: why are you wearing this?’

Oh shit, he is too good. Fuck, I just blew my cover, simply because it’s too much. ‘What?’

August places his large hand in the dip of my waist, his fingers touching my bare skin. ‘You never wear this.’

I clear my throat. Now is not a good time for that heart attack you were thinking about a two days ago, I tell myself. ‘Oh, I…’

‘Come on,’ he whispers, ‘you can tell me.’

I swallow hard, all of the sudden not so sure about this anymore. I shouldn’t let him intimidate me, but it sure does. It might have to do with this authoritarian lining I hear in his deep voice.

‘Tell me,’ he says, ‘did you plan this?’

I finally find my voice again, yet it’s not a very secure one. ‘Maybe,’ I whisper shakily.

‘Why?’

‘It’s you, really,’ I say and that is not a total lie. I mean, I have seen him pretty up close these passed few days. And since I’m a functioning human being with a heart beat and certain—slightly nasty—dreams about him…  It seems reasonable to be planning this, right?

August nods, before lifting me on the empty table I wished in my initial plan he would place me. ‘If I start, Mia, I don’t think I can stop.’

‘I don’t want you to stop,’ I whimper, already completely at his mercy.

I curse myself.

He chuckles and bites his bottom lip, his eyes turning a few shades darker. He takes off his shirt, revealing his strong and broad chest, covered with chest hair that I only saw glimpses of.

Am I sure I can do this? Am I sure I can do what I plan to do?

‘What?’ I ask him.

‘You look like a deer caught in the headlights, Mia.’

‘Oh,’ I gasp, which is a dead giveaway that I am indeed a deer caught in the headlights.

His strong hands force my legs open. ‘It’s a good thing I sometimes find you adorable.’

Now I’m actually offended. ‘Why only sometimes?’

He smiles. ‘Maybe always.’

I shouldn’t do this, I think to myself. I feel sorry for him now, he looks so approachable and finally he shows me who he is deep down. The August Walker that I knew was in there, hidden by the walls he has built. The August Walker I saw glimpses of since the day I met him. Okay, maybe not since the day I met him, but since we went to that basketball game.

I place my hands on his broad chest and let my nails drag over his skin. August bridges the space between us and the second our lips touch and his tongue enters my mouth, I hook my feet together behind his hips.

The way this man kisses… I have never been kissed like this. Never have I ever been so overpowered, so dominated.

I’m getting too sucked into this moment, that for a second I forget my plan. He buries his face in my neck, his tongue running over the delicate skin. I bite my lip to keep my moans in, but somehow one escapes.

‘Such a needy little girl,’ he grunts in my nape, before going out of his way to leave his marks on me.

When he kisses my lips again, he seems distracted enough, I think to myself. My hand goes underneath the edge of the table, where I taped the letter opener…

But I can’t find it.

‘You were looking for this?’ he asks when he pulls back. His fingers twirl the letter opener around.

Oh fuck, I screwed up big time.

‘I admire you thought about this,’ he says, ‘but I’m not a total idiot.’ He lets the sharp tip drag over my cheek, causing me to pull back.

‘You knew?’

‘Of course I knew,’ he chuckles. ‘I’m a CIA agent, I notice everything you do. I’m trained to do such thing.’ He pulls back completely and I let out a groan. While he puts the letter opener in the back pocket of his pants, he grabs his shirt from the floor. ‘Shame, Mia, that I can read you like a book, but yet again… I appreciate the effort.’

He turns around with a cocky grin and I clench my jaw. What an asshole. I look around me and see a block of wood next to the table. I jump off the table, grab the wood and rush towards him. I am not giving up, because if I did so, I wouldn’t have become the soccer player I am today.

I was, I mean, because I’ve come to the realization those soccer playing times might be over.

August must’ve heard me (he is a CIA agent after all), but I’m mid swing already and the edge of the block hits him on his temple. I watch as the enormous man falls like a bag of potatoes and I stare at his limp body on the floor.

Did I just kill him?

Before I jump over him to go up the stairs, I quickly check his pulse in his neck. Okay, there is a heartbeat. I climb up the stairs and lock the door.

It’s game time.

I rush to my room, grab my coat and the carriage for Bobo. I figured I would bring him to a shelter, before I would get on the plane, because I’m not leaving my precious orange cat in a safe house with August Walker.

Within record time I have got my bag ready, the file and I grabbed the fake Indonesian passport I need. ‘Come on, Bobo,’ I try to coax him and the dumb ass actually goes into the cage.

‘Mia, don’t fucking do this,’ I hear August yell, as he is trying to force the door open.

Okay, it’s quite a relief to know he really wasn’t dead.

I grab the car keys and when I walk passed his room, my eyes fall on his weapon holster. The one last thing I need. I grab his gun and though I have zero idea on how to use it, I can just do what they do in movies.

Just pull the trigger, right?

I grab the carriage with Bobo, only to hear August breaking out from the basement. The door collapses in front of me and I see his eyes are dark, but not filled with lust like they were a few moments ago.

Filled with absolute rage.

‘Don’t even fucking think about it,’ he growls.

Before I even think, I grab the gun out of the bag and point it to him. My hands are shaking. ‘Let me go,’ I say.

‘Mia, I can’t let you go.’

‘I don’t want the CIA to help me,’ I tell him, as tears run over my cheeks. Way to make your point, Mia. ‘I just want my normal life back.’

‘You can’t and you know that.’

I do know that. ‘I want to find answers on my own,’ I continue, ‘and on my own, doesn’t involve you. I hate you, August Walker, I fucking hate you.’

I can see it in his eyes, that he tells himself that it’s not true and it’s not true. I don’t hate him, I just need to get out of here. He clenches his jaw. ‘Give me the gun, Mia.’

I shake my head. ‘No. Step aside or I’ll shoot.’

Even I’m not convinced…

August walks up to me and places his hand on the barrel, pulling the gun against his chest. ‘Do it then.’

My finger is on the trigger, but… I’m too weak to shoot him. I hand him the gun, before hiding my face into my hands. I lean with my back against the wall. This is so embarrassing. Why on earth did I think I could escape?

I hear August opening the door of the carriage, followed by the soft steps of Bobo.

‘Talk to me, Mia,’ he says, causing me to look up. When our eyes meet, he isn’t mad. He looks so disappointed. but I’m not sure if he’s disappointed in me or himself for letting this happen.

I take a deep breath. I don’t know what to say about this situation. ‘How is your head?’ I ask him, noticing some blood running over the side of his face.

‘It’s okay.’

I simply take his hand and drag him with me to the kitchen. He sits on a lower stool, so I can actually reach his face, without having to wear pointe shoes. I see a small cut on his temple, the source of the stream of blood and I grab the kit he used on me so many times. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say in a soft tone. ‘I don’t know what I was thinking.’

‘Don’t apologize.’

‘But I have to, August. I hurt you.’ I clean the wound, before grabbing the special bandages to pull wounds like this back together.

He sighs deeply. ‘You did what you thought was best. I can’t argue with that.’ His tone is low, raspy, but also soft.

He doesn’t sound angry at all, while I expect him to be. I mean, I kinda wanted to stab him.

‘It’s just that I… I just want to get out of here.’

August nods. ‘I know that and we will go. Eventually.’ When our eyes meet again, I see the hurt. Fuck, I hurt him so badly. Guilt washes over me and there are a million things I could say to him. But he doesn’t let me. ‘Don’t beat yourself up over this.’

He can indeed read me like a fucking book and I should hate that. But I’m actually quite relieved as of now.

‘I’m not beating myself up.’

‘You are.’

I push back some of his hairs, my fingertips running over his scalp. He melts against the touch and shuts his eyes, letting out a deep sigh.

‘I won’t escape anymore,’ I whisper.

‘I know.’

‘It’s… I don’t know what possessed me. I mean… I hit you in the head quite hard.’

He shakes his head. ‘Don’t you worry about it. Besides, I’m actually pretty relieved. I now know you can defend yourself properly.’

‘Properly?’ I can’t help but chuckle and I see a tiny smile form on his lips. ‘Don’t over exaggerate. August, I just… I feel so useless here. I don’t remember a lot of stuff. I just sit here and wait. I haven’t done that in a long time.’

He nods. ‘You are not useless.’

‘I need to do something with my time. It’s awful sitting here, with you breathing down my neck.’

He smiles. ‘How about I teach you some basic self defense tips?’

‘Please,’ I say. ‘Honestly, you could ask me to do some embroidery and I would take it.’

He places a hand on my back and actually forces me to sit on his thighs. My eyes enlarge, causing him to chuckle. ‘I meant what I said in there,’ he says. ‘Both the deer caught in the headlights part and the needy little girl part.’

Yeah, I just want to disappear and I wished that could be arranged. ‘Could we maybe not mention that. Like, ever again? I’d like to maintain some form of dignity.’

His lips graze over my cheeks. ‘Had I not found the letter opener,’ he whispers, ‘how far would you let me go?’

‘Not far. I was gonna stab you, August,’ I chuckle, but it’s a nervous one, since I can hardly focus as I sit on his thick thighs. ‘Why?’

‘Because something tells me… You’ve never done that before.’

That can’t be good. I feel like my self confidence just disappeared into thin air. ‘Was it that bad?’

‘No, no, no!’ he quickly says. ‘It’s just that your heart rate was out of the roof and… You seemed nervous.’

‘I kinda was. But mostly because I needed to stab you.’

‘Liar.’

‘I’m not a liar.’

‘You are,’ he says, before placing a kiss on my cheekbone. It’s so soft and tender, almost a full 180 of that kiss he gave me in the basement, a place I will never go back to again, because I’ll probably die of shame. ‘And that’s okay.’

I want to say something, but then I hear a loud meow and August growling. ‘Stupid cat, stop doing that!’

‘The attack thing on your leg?’ I ask him.

‘Yes, what a stupid idiot.’

‘Hey, don’t talk to him like that!’ I look over and see Bobo peeking around the corner of the kitchen island. ‘I can’t believe I genuinely thought I could take Bobo with me on my little adventure.’

August pulls me closer to him. ‘It shows your character, Mia.’

I meet his eyes again. ‘You’re not mad at me anymore?’

‘I haven’t been mad at you. I know you don’t want to stay here and that is a mutual feeling. I just have to know I can guarantee your safety.’

I nod. ‘When do you think we can leave?’

‘Next week somewhere?’

‘Is it allowed for me to get wasted or am I bringing the operation in danger if I do so?’

He smiles. ‘One drink, that’s the best I can do.’

I don’t want to do it, but I press my lips against his. A quick peck, nothing compared to the kiss earlier. But it’s all I can do right now. ‘Can we start now?’

5 days at the safe house

‘What’s that?’ I ask August, when he places a box on the table.

Ever since my little escape debacle (I let August swear never to mention it again and so far he lips were sealed), time doesn’t go by as slowly and August actually trusts me now. I don’t have justify myself for every step I take. He teaches me some self defense, but I’m a very slow learner and he tries to be patient, but really isn’t.

It’s nice being around August, especially when he tries to be nice to Bobo.

He is just a bit uneasy around the cat.

‘It’s for you,’ he says, not making eye contact.

‘It’s not even my birthday,’ I say.

August simply shrugs. ‘I can give you gifts, right?’

‘I mean, if you want, you won’t hear me complaining. I love gifts.’ I grab the box and pull it closer to me. It’s not really tightly closed, so I can easily open it. I peek inside, only to discover a…

A soccer ball?

‘Are you serious?’ I ask him. ‘Why?’

‘Because I know you miss soccer,’ he tells me. ‘I know I can’t bring back full stadiums, screaming fans and a better opponent, but this is the least I can do. Just remember: take good care of your foot.’

‘Of course, of course.’ A smile appears on my face and I take it out of the box, balancing the ball on my hand. Memories flash through my mind. My first soccer ball, the first goal I made in amateur soccer, after that professional soccer.

I walk around the table and I give him a kiss on his cheek. Ever since kissing one another after the basement event, we didn’t do that anymore. But now feels like an appropriate time to do so? Maybe not, but it’s happening now.

I can’t go back now.

‘Since I can’t use my foot, you want to throw it with me?’

‘Of course,’ he says. However, before we can start, I sense he wants to say something to me. I wait, but he shakes it off. ‘Never mind. Let me move the couch, so we have more room.’

10 days at the safe house

I am in a deep sleep, when I hear some rumbling sounds in the background. I open my eyes, but I figure out it’s one of August’s nightly escapades. He does that quite often in the middle of the night. Just wandering around, moving around some things and sometimes I even hear him exercising. I wonder if he ever sleeps.

Not me though, when it’s dark outside, I’m sleeping.

I turn around and try to drift off in a nice sleep again, hoping to go back to that lovely dream again, but then my door opens. I jolt awake, when August enters my room. ‘Easy now,’ August says. ‘You’re coming with me.’

‘What’s happening?’

‘I got your clothes, your stuff, everything. Even your creepy cat worked with me and got in his carriage.’ He hands me a thick sweater and helps me in it. My head is still a bit drowsy and my body barely works. August lifts me up and I place my head against his shoulder.

‘I can walk,’ I mumble.

‘I know, but you’re sleepy,’ he whispers. ‘Besides, I don’t mind.’

That shouldn’t make me smile as much as it does.

He carries me to the car and places me in the passengers seat. He starts the car and with an illegal speed he drives off. I look over my shoulder, to see Bobo in the carriage.

‘What’s happening, August?’ I ask him. ‘Why are we leaving?’

‘We might’ve been found,’ he says, his eyes not leaving the road.

I nod. I grab his hand from the steering wheel and I hold it in both of mine. ‘I trust you,’ I whisper. ‘I really do.’

#august walker #august walker x ofc #august walker x asian ofc #august walker x oc #august walker x mia makaruku #august walker fanfiction #august walker fanfic #henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #fic: protection #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fandom

[creativeskullcreations]

Outside chapter 25: What Comes Next

And here it is, the final chapter. It's been a wild ride, y'all, but more on that in the next chapter. Also can anyone guess who the sequel will involve? There's a hint, though it'll be a while before I get to it.

Stacy chopped the vegetables for the upcoming stir-fry as Scout watched from the other side of the sink. Will was working on measuring out the rice, hopeful that this time it would be the right amount. Scout hoped for another rice-explosion.

Rice cooker started, Will washed his hands and headed down into the basement. Nick and Riley sat in cages along the back wall, tied up and gagged. Riley glared at him as he approached, but Nick stared into space, unmoving and unseeing. Will came up to the cage and poked the Puppet's face with a pen, and on finding no reaction took the artist out of his cage, manually closing his eyes as he went.

Will laid the body on the table, untying him an removing the gag before wrapping him up like a mummy. Wrapped up in fabric and bound with silver infused rope, he was laid gently into a velvet lined box, that was closed and locked up tight with a key and code. It was placed on top of the box that held Mortimer, right next to the one that held Daisy. Right next to the many other boxes lining the wall.

Will finished checking in with the other dolls and toys, finding no change or escape attempts. He went to leave, but stopped first to look at Riley. She was obviously tired, no longer struggling against the ropes that bound her. Instead she opted to give a death glare, which he returned with a steady stare.

"You're next, you know." He told her quietly. "Don't worry, you won't get a different treatment from the others." She just glared harder, and he went back upstairs, heading back for the kitchen.

"Nick's gone dormant." He told Stacy quietly as she cooked the vegetables and rice in a pan. She frowned and nodded, but didn't reply beyond that. Scout was on the table, messing with the forks, and neither of them wanted to bring it to her attention. As he went on to stop the Puppet from her tower building, Stacy breathed a sigh of relief.

'Three down, just one more left.' She sighed in relief as she scooped the food onto four plates. 'It's almost over, then.' She set them up on the table while Will went off to find Canon. He returned quickly, no Puppet in sight.

"Yeah she's still up there, and not coming back down. But she did yell at me to go away this time, so I think we're making progress." He said, taking a seat. Stacy dumped the food that would've been Canon's into a tupperware before taking her own seat.

Scout, true to form, had already started stuffing her face. She stopped briefly, swallowing her mouthful with some difficulty. "I don't even know why you fucking bother. If she wants to be miserable, let her be miserable. Better than having her bothering me all the time." Another scoop of rice went into her mouth. "Why are we eating this again? It's fucking gross."

"We have to have at least two nights where we eat real food." Stacy told her. "It's healthy."

"It's. Gross." Scout repeated. "Didn't you make a cake? Where is it?"

"Cake comes after dinner. Eat your rice." Will told her. And, with some grumbling, the Puppet continued to shovel the stir-fry into her mouth.

"My Dad wants me to come home for Thanksgiving." Stacy said, after a few minutes of silent eating. "I think I should probably go this time, rather than just call."

"Might be a good idea." Will agreed. "Doesn't Danny need to, uh, do something anyways?"

"That's another reason I'm going. And why Scout is coming too."

"What? Ew no I don't wanna go." She dropped down into the chair behind her. "I like this house."

"It's just for a few days. Besides, I want you to meet my brother. It's important."

"How important? Also isn't he the one who can't hear? That's weird." Scout commented, peering over the edge of the table like some sort of gremlin.

"Yes, and yes he is weird but not because he's deaf." A pause, as Stacy realized something. "So don't tell him that that's why he's weird."

The two stared at each other, long enough that Will sighed and reached over to pull the Puppet back up onto the table. "Finish your food so we can get to the cake already." He grumbled, stabbing into a larger piece of carrot. "Also has Lisa gotten back to you on that project she's working?"

"Not yet, but apparently it's been more difficult than she thought. Neither Stitch or Bonzai are cooperating, and Scout doesn't even want to know what she's working on." Stacy side-eyed her Puppet, who glared right back.

"I want no part of that crazy bitch's plans!" She insisted, and was met with two sighs.

"You don't even know what it is." Will pointed out, and got a handful of rice in the face for his trouble.

"I don't fucking care. It involves fabric, and I don't fucking trust her!" She went to grab another handful of rice, only to find her plate gone, and Stacy halfway to the sink with it and the other two plates.

"Who wants some cake?" She asked with false cheer, holding the pan and a knife up. Scout cheered, and Will just sighed, though with a small smile.

-----

Lisa sighed heavily, pulling at her hair as she stared down at her notes. Nothing seemed to be working, though not like she could even test her theories with nobody cooperating with her. Even Stitch, who had agreed to help, and been swayed into not helping by Bonzai.

Finally, she stood and swept the notes into a folder, shelving it for the time being. She had classes to plan for next year, and should probably get on that. She grabbed a fresh notebook and opened it up. 'I wonder is Stitch would be willing to come with a few days out of the week.' She thought as she started on the plans. 'She's not that creepy, and isn't as loud as the others. And kids always love a Puppet.'

A light smile crossed her face as she thought of vague scenarios and sketched in small notes on where the Puppet could fit. She wasn't sure if her supervisor would even allow it, but it was nice to fantasize. Unfortunately, her fantasies were soon broken by a loud crash from the living room.

'Oh what did those three do now?" She stood and left her study, to find the little train Mason had set up crashed into a wall. Her roommate was doubled over laughing behind a camera, while Stitch and Bonzai were arguing. She leaned against the wall, watching the scene.

"I hope you got some good shots, cause it's time to clean this up." She told them, and instantly he sobered up.

"Aw, come on Lees, they love the train. Just look!" He pointed to the two Puppets, of which Stitch was actively strangling her brother.

"It looks like they're trying to kill each other." She leaned down, scooping the Puppets into her arms. "Besides it's gonna be time for bed soon, and I don't want to trip over this again tomorrow morning."

"Ugh, fine." He pulled his phone out and snapped some pics so he could put it back together later. He then started grabbing track pieces and putting them into a nearby bin. Bonzai let out his own groan, just now noticing what was going on.

"Hey wait don't put it away!" He struggled, but couldn't break Lisa's hold on him. "I wasn't done with that! Stop!"

"Ah but my Host has spoken. You are done with it." Stitch intoned smugly, to be met with a hard glare. He was ignored as Lisa carried them to what had been a guest room, but was now set up as their room. Not much had really changed about it, save for there being more toys and some kids' books around. It was mostly a temporary place for them, that had become permanent.

"You guys really gotta clean this place up." The blonde muttered as she stepped over things to put them in the bed. Bonzai tried to escape the second he was let go, but Lisa grabbed him again and almost forcibly tucked him in beside his sister. He crossed his arms and sulked while Stitch looked far too happy to be fussed over like that.

"Glad you're enjoying this humiliation." He muttered.

"It is only humiliating if you dislike such actions." Stitch whispered back as she watched her Host put away some of their things. "Personally, I feel like this was an optimal outcome. Look at her, cleaning for us."

"Well I wasn't done playing with Mason." He grumbled, just loud enough that Lisa heard.

"What were you guys doing, anyways. I saw Mason had his camera set up." She said, coming to sit down on the bed with them.

"We were making a movie! With fun action sequences and a train chase!" Bonzai told her excitedly. "It was totally awesome!"

"He told us he would put it on the internet when he was finished." Stitch told her, and Lisa frowned briefly before covering it up.

"That sounds so cool!" She said. "I can't wait to watch the finished thing. I bet it's gonna be awesome!"

"Hell yeah it is!" Bonzai agreed, and received a small pat on the head for it. He quickly brushed her hand away while she gave Stitch an identical pat, then stood to leave. Turning the light off as she went, she made sure the door was tightly shut before heading back to the living room.

She took a deep breath. "You're going to put them on YouTube?!" She whisper-shouted with a squeak.

"Uh, yeah? I'm not gonna make a whole ass movie just to let it sit in the camera." Mason told her, putting the last of the track pieces in the box.

"You can't do that! What if somebody sees? Oh man we're gonna get in so much trouble!"

"Lisa, relax. Stacy made a whole TikTok account for Scout, and nothing's happened to them." He pointed out.

"That's Stacy though! She has, like, supernatural luck or something! We're gonna get caught and they'll be taken away!"

"Look, Lisa, it'll be fine. And besides, the movie's not done yet. There's plenty of time to see if Scout gets caught because of TikTok or not." He grinned, which faded at the hard look Lisa was giving him.

"If anything happens to anyone because you put that video on YouTube, you're dead." She told him, but he just grinned back.

"Fair enough." He said. "But don't worry so much. It'll be fine, I'm sure of it!"

-----

Sammy walked into his half-dark apartment, not bothering to turn on any other lights. His backpack fell to the floor with a heavy thump as he wandered into the kitchen for a soda from the fridge. Drink gotten, he opened it up as he wandered into the living room, sitting on the couch and lighting up a joint.

He blew out a mouthful of smoke, barely noticing as Bit appeared on the couch. She crawled over to lay her head in his lap, letting out small coughs occasionally. He stroked her hair absentmindedly, slowing down as his mind drifted with the smoke.

"You need to stop doing that." Bit mumbled, coughing again as Sammy finally passed into a weed fueled haze. She got no reply, so she sighed unhappily.

She'd been expecting something... more with Sammy once they got back. And her siblings seemed to have gotten that, even if Canon was being a weird bitch about it. But all she got was a Host that left her alone for days at a time, only to come home and smoke himself into oblivion. And then he'd leave again the very next morning.

He didn't talk or play with her like the other Hosts did with her siblings. It was almost enough to bring her to tears when she was left alone in the dark apartment. Almost. She never actually cried from it(not like she'd admit it, anyways).

She was tired of the taste and stench of the smoke, however.  It made her cough, and smelled worse than anything in the Studio. She wished he could get through one day without smoking. She knew that the next time they all met up, she was going to stink.

-----

Stacy brushed her hair, sitting on the bed next to Scout, who was deep into playing an old Gameboy that had been found in a box. As soon as her hair had been tied back into a braid, she lifted the Puppet into her lap and gave her hair a few quick strokes with the brush.

"Okay, it's bedtime now. Save the game and turn it off." Stacy said, putting the brush away. She unhooked her prosthetic and set it down beside the bed, in easy reach for the next morning.

"Can't save can't pause gotta keep playing." Scout mumbled. Her Host sighed before grabbing the game and pausing it, then plugging it into the charger on the side-table. The Puppet reached for it, but was held in place as Stacy turned off the light and laid down.

"Bedtime is now, Scout. Will's already asleep." She muttered as she settled down, and Scout finally stopped fighting it. Stacy would go limp soon enough, anyways, and then Scout could go back to playing.

And, just as predicted, once Stacy was fully asleep it was easy to squirm out of her loose grasp and grab the Gameboy. She settled into the corner of the room to play, when she noticed a light go by the open door.

Too low to the ground to be anything but Canon, Scout eased through the gap between the door and door-frame. She followed her eldest sister to the kitchen, just in time to see her pull the tupperware of gross rice out of the fridge. It landed on the floor with a thump and she pulled the lid off to shove the cold leftovers into her mouth.

"You know that tastes better warm, right?" Scout asked, and Canon jumped, then hunched over her food and glared at her sister.

"Shut up and go back to your Host!" She hissed before chomping down on another mouthful of food. Hunger satisfied for now, she put the lid back on and hefted the container back into the fridge. She then closed the door, plunging the kitchen back into darkness.

"C'mon Canon, Will's worried about you. I think." Scout scratched her head. "It's honestly hard to tell with him sometimes."

"I. Don't. Care." Canon said simply, pushing past Scout in order to get back to her hiding place.

"But he's your Host!" The elder sister paused, leaving Scout feeling safe to continue. "Everyone else likes their Hosts! Did... did something happen or-"

"Just because the rest of you are happy to be pets doesn't mean I am." She stated. "They'll all get bored of you eventually, so don't drag me into your delusions." And then she vanished, leaving Scout with a rebuttal dying on her lips.

"Well, fine then! Be a bitch, see if I care!" She grumbled as she made her way back to the bedroom in the dark. She Jumped onto the bed, crawling under the blanket and up against Stacy.

"We're not fucking pets." Scout muttered. "They care about us. Stacy cares about me. I know she does." She sniffed, burying her face under the covers. "Why does she have to be such a bitch about it?"

-----

Somewhere far away, in a different, rainy city, sat a small building. Out of that building, through the boards covering the door, a tiny figure made of wood squeezed out, dragging an envelope with him. Holding it over his head, he raced to the nearby mailbox sitting at the corner. It took some work, but he was able to climb up and stuff the letter he was carrying inside.

And just in time, too, as a flash of lightning showed a stark white figure about the size of a child standing just inside the doorway. Thin strings wormed their way out through the boards, attaching themselves to the puppet's limbs. It screamed, a high-pitched, sharp sound as he was dragged back inside.

The rain continued to fall as the city slept on, completely unaware.

#outside #hello puppets #fanfiction #scout #canon #stitch #bonzai #bit #riley ruckuc #nick nack #stacy stein #will carson #lisa montgamery #mason kamiya #sammy davis

[blazogirlsoneshots]

Space Girl (Monica Rambeau x Reader)

Italics-Music, also listen to Space Girl by Francis Forever 

Monica unfolded and refolded the already warndown paper in her hands as she prepared to open the door to her apartment. From her position outside the door she could hear the clinks of dishes and the muffled music. Taking one more deep breath, Monica turned the key and stepped through the door.

“Hey, babe, how was work?” Y/N called from their position at the stove. “I tried calling you earlier for your opinion on dinner but you didn’t answer. So, I decided to just go with stir fry.”

“That’s fine,” Monica placed the paper on the counter and went over to Y/N. She wrapped her arms around their waist and kissed their check. “How was your day?”

“Oh, you know. Same old, same old, although I did see the cutest cat on my way home.”

“Did you?”

“Yes and I think you should reconsider my idea about getting one. Just think about it, we would be the greatest cat parents in the entire history of the world.” Monica laughed as went and sat on the counter across from Y/N. 

“Even so, both of us are so busy that the poor thing would be lonely being at home by itself all day.”

“Boo, you’re no fun,” Y/N pouted.

“But you love me anyway.” Y/N turned around and beamed up at Monica.

“Yeah, I do.” The two basked in the comfort of the moment as the troubles from the day seemed to melt away. 

Space girl, show me the stars

You know the galaxies of my heart

Y/N let out a squeal as they grabbed Monica’s hand and pulled her off the counter. 

“What are you doing?” Monica asked while trying to fight off the smile growing on her face.

“Dancing with you, of course.” Y/N intertwined their fingers with Monica’s and began to swing their arms around. 

Girl, are you a Cancer?

‘Cause you make me cry

When we kiss or dance in the sky

We’re dancing in the sky

Laughter filled the room as the pair danced. Monica’s earlier anxieties were almost completely forgotten. There was just something about the time spent with Y/N that made all of her worries melt away.

Space Girl, I saw a lunar eclipse

Looked like how I feel 'bout your hips

Space Girl, the only way that we'd end

Was if you were sucked into a black hole

But I'd still spend my days dreaming 'bout you

“Monica, what’s this?” Monica felt her heart stop as Y/N picked up the piece of paper.

“I was going to talk to you about it after dinner-”

“Mission orders?” Y/N looked up with an unreadable expression on their face. “It says that you’re leaving tomorrow.”

“I-,” Monica started but stopped and stared at her hands, “I know it’s really soon and I’ve given you absolutely no warning, but I finally get to fly.”

“You’re going to space?” The anger vanished from Y/N's voice as a smile spread across their face.

“I’m going to space,” Monica conformed. Y/N threw their arms around Monica and buried their face in her chest.

“It’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?”

“I don’t want to seem like I’m abandoning you.”

“You’re not, though. Besides, you always come back to me. You’re my space girl.”

“Space girl?”

“Well, you are going to space in the morning. It’s the perfect fit.”

A/N: Does this feel a little rushed and what not? Yes, but I think that Space Girl is Monica’s theme song so I had to do it.

masterlist

#monica rambeau x reader #monica rambeau #wandavision #Captain Marvel #marvel #mcu #x reader

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Shielded. Chapter Five: The Repair Shop.

Anonymous said to

imagineclaireandjamie: Ask and you shall receive.

--

After a break last week, we’re back with Sunday Shielded. I hope you enjoy <3 MBD.

--

On Saturday, much to her surprise, Jamie was down in the kitchen -his pyjamas still on- frying up some bacon. Having smelled the food, she had woken later than usual and quickly gotten herself dressed to come and investigate.

“Morning.” He said, cheerfully.

“No work today?” She asked inquisitively. It had been two weeks since her arrival and not once had he taken a day off to rest.

“I thought maybe we could spend the day together, if ye like?”

He hadn’t exactly planned on staying in, but having her open up to him made him feel as if she were now ready for company...and he found he was interested in getting to know her. His neighbours had often joked that he’d find himself missing human company at some point but it hadn’t been until he’d had Claire in his house that he finally realised that they were right.

“Oh, well,” she replied looking a little shocked. She’d paused for so long that it gave him time to think and regret his decision, maybe she still needed time by herself…

Replying, finally, she looked down at her blank phone, “I’ll have to check my busy schedule and see if I can fit you in - I’m in demand, you know?”

Chuckling under his breath he passed her a breakfast sandwich before turning back to take a bite of his own. “Feeling humorous today, are we?” He jested, immediately panicking that it might have been the wrong thing to say.

Smiling around her sandwich, she blinked slowly and made her longest assessment of Jamie since meeting him. He was much taller than she’d remembered. She could see that as he ducked through the doorway into the pantry to collect the tomato sauce. It felt as though the house hadn’t been built with such dimensions in mind.

Sensing her eyes on him, Jamie poked his head around the door in time to see her hair settle back against her shoulders. She’d been quick to avoid being caught, but not fast enough. Biting his lip to stop the laughter from bubbling up he watched her fingers rest gently against the skin of her neck. The first thing he’d noticed was her height, small shoulders and a long shapely neck. The curls of her hair had been pinned up, but this morning she’d left them bobbing just shy of her collarbone. Somehow it gave emphasis to the muscles that ran seamlessly from her arm and up to stop beneath her ears. Pretty, he thought, more striking when she turned and he caught the deep blue hue of her irises. They were almost golden at the edges, like the tip of a wedding ring as the sun catches the metal.

He couldn’t stop the image of her in a long white dress springing to mind as he stumbled over a rogue stone on his way back to the sink and he had to shake his head to rid himself of the vision.

Silly, he thought as he sat in front of her.

Jenny, his sister, had been on the phone the night before talking about memories and he tried to play it off as if those conversations had merged though a strange spinning in the base of his stomach continued to bother him.

Seeing a strange confusion pass over his face, she coughed, wiping the crumbs from her mouth as she finished her breakfast. “What did you have in mind?”

The atmosphere that had subtly hung in the air vanished as fast as it had developed and, looking out of the window, she glanced at the clouds as they hovered overhead. It felt like rain, a day for being indoors no matter whether you were allowed out or not. Turning her attention back to Jamie, he tilted his head very slightly. She had no plans, obviously and had only thought as far as getting herself downstairs for a cup of tea.

“I could do wi’ some help, if ye dinna mind?”

“Of course!” The smile that spread across her face was honest, her eyes lighting up at the prospect of being some assistance. “I can’t promise that I’ll be great, it depends on what you need help with, but I’m all yours for the day.”

As it turned out, Jamie had a few pieces of furniture in the back of his bedroom that had various issues. One table with a missing leg, a chair with some damage to the woodwork along the back and some shelves in need of serious renovation.

“I saw yer books sitting in the suitcase you have, I thought maybe we could sand these down, gi’ them a new coat of varnish and put them on the walls in yer room. That way you can unpack, make the space your own?”

Holding the planks up, Jamie twisted the wood between his hands. There was a lull as he sized up what he’d got, making sure they were wide enough to hold a set of books. “Or we could paint them, if ye fancy some colour? I’m no’ totally averse to covering up the original oak but I ken enough about ‘Changing Rooms’ style that it can go horribly wrong. What do ye think?”

“I feel like a heathen for covering wood - varnish would be wonderful, though.”

“Do ye think designers are hidden behind the panels, just waiting for you to commit some crime against interior design?”

That thought remained with her through mid-morning and into the afternoon. When they finally stopped for lunch, the back utility room was covered in shavings, as were Jamie and Claire. Washing her hands, she tried to pick as many of the larger chunks of wood from her jumper and leggings. They’d managed to revitalise the former shelves and give them one coat of varnish. Now they were drying Jamie had suggested a cup of tea and something to eat before moving on to the other items.

“Have you ever thought of engraving?” Blowing across the warm liquid, she had in mind some of the more discrete carvings she’d seen on wooden furniture whilst frequenting antique shops in Oxford. “Not just initials - we could come up with a logo of sorts. Or a crest? Your family has one, doesn’t it?”

It had been one of those long nights a couple of days ago when she’d found his family crest. At first she had been amused, pulling the secret door open where it sat at the top of the stairs to find an array of hidden gems including a complete knight of the realm suit of armour. The crest had been embossed into the metal, its stylish swirls standing out clean and proud on the breastplate. She had been tempted to put it on for about a second, but had then relented, closed the door and moved on with her search.

It wasn’t until they were knee deep in their project that she’d had the idea.

“I suspect I’d need some practice if I were going to try and add that, there’s quite a bit of detail on it.” There was no surprise in his voice, but she did notice the subtle change in his face as he put his sandwich down for just a moment. His almost undetectable shock soon turned to amusement as he took a crisp from the bowl between them.

“Take a rubbing, that way you already have an almost identical copy of it.”

“Aye, good idea. What next to get it on the wood?”

“You use something sharp. I’d say a compass would probably work alright. Et voila,” with a flamboyant flick of her wrists, she pointed towards where the half broken items sat waiting their turn for sanding and fixing. “You have yourself the beginnings of your own engraving. A personalised signature on your recreations.” She looked excited at the prospect, which, in turn, made Jamie feel similarly joyful.

“My mam would have liked you.” He said without thinking. For a second he felt abashed at his words but when he saw that it hadn’t phased her, he took a deep breath and a gulp of his tea.

“She wouldn’t have been worried about you taking in waifs and strays, then?”

“Nah. She would have encouraged it. Especially since yer so handy wi’ hints on how to continue the Fraser legacy - it’s something she would have been keen on too.”

Sitting back in her chair she tried to picture what his mother might have been like.

“I’ll get out the albums later, if you like? Show you some pictures of her and da.” He said, answering her silent question.

“Sounds perfect. Now,” sitting up straighter, she put her hands flat against the table, “let’s get these chairs mended and back on form eh!”

“Couldn’t have put it better myself, Claire.”

With purpose, she nodded and stood, the name (though natural on his tongue) still feeling unnatural to her ears.

“You start the sanding, Jamie, and I’ll go and take the first rubbing of the crest.”

#anonymous #;mod mbd #shielded #Jamie X Claire

[bestillmyslashyheart]

let’s commiserate

1. 

Forrest didn’t know Maria DeLuca all that well. He knew she owned the Wild Pony and had spoken with her a few times about the Open Mic nights but he wasn’t sure he could call her anything more than a passing acquaintance. 

So he was understandably confused when she handed him one of his favorite beers before he could order with a simple, “on the house.” He tried to ask her why but she only glanced over his shoulder and left to help another customer. Forrest held the beer in the air, still confused as to why he had received it, but he craned his neck to see what she was looking at. 

He smiled when he saw Alex standing just inside the door. They were meeting up for their third date tonight and he had thought that Alex had been running late. He was happy to see that he was here, just caught up in conversation with his friend. Forrest recognized Michael Guerin easily. They’d met a few more times at the library after running into them out at the old barn and they’d chatted easily enough. Like Maria, he wouldn’t say Guerin was a friend but he wasn’t a stranger. And he knew Guerin was a friend of Alex’s.

Forrest took his free beer and wandered over. Neither man noticed his approach, too invested in their conversation to hear him come up even though they’d fallen silent by the time he was close enough to hear them. “Hey!” He greeted brightly. Both startled, Guerin glancing around like he’d forgotten where he was while Alex gave him a sheepish grin.

“Hey,” he greeted. “Sorry, Guerin and I were just talking.” 

The wording was weird, like Alex was making apologies for being with Guerin and not for being a few minutes late, but Forrest brushed it off. “No worries. Do you want to join us?” He asked, just to be polite. All three of them knew he wasn’t actually inviting Guerin to join their date but the other two blanched at the words. 

“No,” Alex said immediately.

“I was just leaving actually,” Guerin replied at the same time. He and Alex exchanged a long look during which Forrest got the impression he had been forgotten but then he blinked and Guerin’s hat was disappearing out the door and Alex was smiling at him.

“Hey,” he greeted again, far more warmly this time. He cupped Forrest’s face and kissed him sweetly. “Sorry I’m late.”

Forrest smiled back and pushed the incident out of his mind. 

2.

Forrest was starting to get the impression that he was missing some key pieces of information. Alex’s friend Liz was visiting and Forrest had joined the two of them and Maria for lunch at the Crashdown. It was going great until Guerin walked in. He didn’t speak to them. Actually, Forrest was pretty sure Guerin didn’t even know they were there, he hadn’t so much as glanced around the cafe when he walked in but Alex’s eyes had been clued to them from the moment his cowboy hat became visible through the window. 

Forrest was trying to continue the conversation with Liz and Maria that Alex had checked out of but he couldn’t help but keep shooting glances Alex’s way. He was still looking at Guerin but now Guerin was looking back.

A plate bumped into his fingers. He looked over to see Maria pushing her plate of extra fries at him. She smiled, not interrupting Liz to say anything, and pushed her milkshake at him too. She’d gotten the same flavor as him but where his was gone, she hadn’t touched hers. Forrest raised an eyebrow in question and she just looked at Alex and then Guerin and back to him. 

Forrest looked over and saw Alex’s face fall as Guerin walked out though he quickly schooled his features and jumped right back into the conversation with Liz. He glanced out the window to see Guerin standing by his truck taking what looked like deep breaths and glancing back at the cafe. 

He looked back at the table to find the milkshake closer than before. He stifled the questions bubbling up and snatched a fry from the plate and dunked it into the milkshake. Just because he was confused did not mean he was stupid enough to turn down free ice cream.

3.

“Okay, seriously?” Forrest mumbled under his breath. “Is it the hat?”

There was a choke-snort combination behind him and Forrest turned to see Maria with her hand over her mouth. “Sorry,” she laughed. She cleared her throat. “I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop.”

“No, I should apologize,” he sighed. “You and he are together, right?”

“Were,” she corrected quickly. “We were. But that’s over with now.” She glanced over at where Alex and Guerin stood, ostensibly part of the group but far closer to each other than to anyone else. They had their heads tilted towards each other and as Forrest turned to watch, Alex reached up to tap the brim of Guerin’s hat. Forrest could see his smile from here. “The hat doesn’t hurt,” she admits. 

Forrest sent her a sidelong glance. Her answering smile was a touch sad and a touch sympathetic. “Corndog?” She offered the one in her spare hand even as she took a bite of the other. “It was for Rosa but she’s probably forgotten by now.”

Forrest tore his eyes off of his boyfriend long enough to take it from her. “So what’s their story?”

“Oh, no,” Maria shook her head. “Ask Alex.”

“I’ve tried,” he confessed. 

She raised an eyebrow. “He didn’t tell you.”

Forrest took a bite of his corndog. “I didn’t actually get around to asking,” he admitted. “I sort of lost my nerve. I know there’s a story there but I’m not sure I want to know what it is.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Been there.” That wasn’t very encouraging, Forrest thought. “Come on,” she hooked her hand through his elbow. “Alex is probably missing you.”

Forrest wasn’t sure that he was but the smile Alex greeted him with, as well as the extra foot of distance that appeared between him and Guerin, helped ease the tightness in his chest.

4.

“Okay,” Forrest leaned heavily on the bar top. “The song is about Guerin.”

Maria didn’t answer as she poured a drink and handed it to a customer two down from Forrest. He waited impatiently until she came over to him, shooting a few glances over his shoulder at the doorway Alex had gone through a few minutes before. The doorway Michael had followed him through seconds later.

“I don’t know,” Maria dragged his attention back to her. He scoffed. “No, really, I don’t. I asked once and Alex changed the subject.”

“But...”

Maria sighed. “But, Alex has never really loved anyone else before so if it’s not about Guerin, then I really have no idea who it could be about.”

Forrest felt strange. Like his body was tensed and primed to run but also like someone had clipped the strings holding him up and he just wanted to curl up into a ball. “First time I heard it, Alex said it was long over.”

Maria snorted, loudly. “Yeah. Heard that one before.”

“Is it not?”

“If you’re asking when the last time they were together was, I think high school?” Forrest raised an eyebrow in disbelief but Maria only shrugged. “I’ve never really been clear on when exactly they were together but Alex wasn’t here for a long time so...”

The door opened and Alex and Guerin walked back in. They looked as put together as they had before they left and neither looked particularly happy. Guerin kept his sad eyes on Alex as Alex walked over to the bar and sat down next to Forrest, greeting him with a light kiss.

“You were great,” Forrest told him honestly. He wasn’t going to ask what had happened with Guerin. Mostly because he didn’t want to know and he was secretly a little bit of a coward when it came to the possibility of losing Alex Manes. Who knew?

Alex smiled. It was small but achingly genuine. “Thanks.” Forrest leaned over and kissed him again.

When they separated there was a cold beer at his elbow that he hadn’t ordered. He took a long sip and carefully did not meet Maria’s eyes.

5.

“He chose me,” Forrest said. “That means something right?” He waved a hand in the direction of the driveway. “Despite all the...that.”

Maria smiled, a light laugh on her lips. “It does,” she agreed. “They’re a mess. I’m not sure they know how to be anything but, if I’m honest. They choose not to be together and Alex chose to be with you. That matters, Forrest.” She sounded sincere but Forrest couldn’t help but remember that her relationship with Guerin had fizzled out despite her obvious, deep feelings for him. “Caring about someone, loving someone, isn’t everything. You’ve got to put in the work. And you’ve got to choose to put in the work.” 

Forrest thought about it. He knew she was right, he’d rationalized the same argument to himself ten times over already. But no matter how many times he did, all he had to do was look at Alex’s face when he was within five feet of Michael Guerin and he knew he was fighting a losing battle. In the three months they’d been dating Forrest had never seen Alex look at him the way he was looking at Guerin right now. Like he wanted to devour him and then cuddle up and watch a movie. Forrest was actually mildly impressed that Alex could fit both desires on his face at one time. 

“You broke up with Guerin, didn’t you? Not the other way around?” For as much as they’d discussed Alex and Guerin, they’d never quite touched on Maria’s relationship with the other man.

“I did,” she agreed. When he looked over at her, she had that sad, sympathetic smile on her face that Forrest had gotten too used to seeing.

“They’re never going to choose each other, are they?”

Maria looked over at them. Michael was still elbow deep in Alex’s engine, trying to figure out what had been making that awful noise when Alex had pulled up for the ‘family’ dinner. “I think they think that they can’t,” she said softly. “That it’s been too long, that too much has happened.”

“That’s crap,” Forrest muttered.

Maria shrugged. “Not much anyone can do about it. It’s up to them to decide what’s best for them.” She looked at him. “Just like it’s up to you.”

Forrest looked back over in time to see Alex burst out laughing. He looked like he was glowing with happiness, his eyes alight with joy in a way Forrest had never seen before. “I want him to look at me like that,” he confessed quietly.

“Me too,” Maria agreed. Forrest shifted his gaze to Guerin to see the man looking back at Alex over his shoulder. Besotted was the only word he could think of to describe the look on his face. Utterly besotted.

Forrest looked around the patio they’d settled on, he looked at the people he’d come to know and think of as friends, and he mourned the future dinners he wouldn’t be a part of. He sighed heavily. “Yeah.”

Maria tapped his beer bottle with hers in a soft clink. “Yeah.”

+1

Maria still gave him free beers on occasion, usually when he had a date and she wanted to gossip with him about it. It was nice, having her as a friend. They understood something about each other that no one else possibly could. As the months since his and Alex’s breakup stretched on, Forrest was happy to note that it hurt less and less to see him and Guerin together even if they never did anything in public. The most PDA he ever saw from them was holding hands. That is, if gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes didn’t count. He knew Maria was having a slightly harder time moving on, her relationship with Guerin had lasted longer and her friendship with both men meant she saw them a lot more than Forrest did, but she had gone on a date the night before so he had hopes for her yet.

Raised voices caught his attention just as Maria handed him a beer. His date was sitting across the room but Forrest didn’t turn to go just yet. Both he and Maria craned their necks a bit to see Alex and Guerin huddled in a doorway. They weren’t quite yelling, the words not reaching as far as the volume did, but they clearly weren’t on the same page about something.

“Trouble in paradise?” Forrest asked. 

Maria scoffed and shook her head. “They don’t know how to talk like normal people. Half their conversations end like this.”

Forrest raised an eyebrow. “I thought things were going well.”

She smiled tightly and nodded her head at the couple. “Wait for it.”

He looked over and watched for a moment as they each said a few more things and then stopped and stared at each other. Forrest must have blinked because one moment he thought they might be seconds away from a full on yelling match and the next Guerin had Alex pressed into the wall, his hat on the ground as Alex dug his fingers into his hair. They were fused at the lips and apparently uncaring that they were practically in the middle of the bar.

Forrest looked back at Maria. “They do that a lot?” She nodded with the heavy sigh of the longsuffering. 

“It’s actually a little impressive,” she admitted grudgingly.

“I bet it sucks to have to see.”

She looked away. 

“Hey,” he said. “My date’s got a friend who was thinking about coming to Open Mic night. He’s pretty hot but tragically straight. You think you could take some time off in a bit?”

Maria laughed. “You trying to set me up?”

Forrest shrugged. “What’s the harm?”

Maria looked over at where Alex and Guerin were still going at it and then back at him. “How hot?”

#roswell fic #malex fic #but mostly forlex? even though its not overly nice to forrest? #forrest and maria bonding #rnm #my fic

[parismemes]

SENTENCE STARTERS FROM RED VS. BLUE SEASON 15

“you touch my baked beans, i put dog shit in your pillowcase.” “every other person in this miserable place is literal garbage.” “books on tape? what's the appeal of that? don't the pages get stuck together?” “when in doubt use a confusing acronym. military types love acronyms.” “FML. that stands for fu--” “i’ll bend down and kiss your boots, how’s that?” “i wanna know every step you take and how much shit gets stuck on your shoes and in-between your teeth.” “you know, i think i'll probably move to LA, but that's like what everyone does. i mean, what do you think?” “i’m gonna skin your cat for this.” “i’m actually thinking of adopting a stage name.” “i’m gonna smash cut your empty skull against that rock if you don’t shut the fuck up!” “i wanted to call it desert titties, but that shit was taken.” “ah, there goes the bechdel test.” “you should interview the illuminati!” “real talk here: i'll be your genie in a bottle, i'll do whatever you want, but after i grant you your three wishes, you gotta do something for me, whaddaya say?” “my ceaseless existence is an eternal torment!” “next time he calls you please, just, let it go to voicemail. don't transfer to me. okay?” “i can’t even hear myself think in this blizzard of idiocy!” “did you attempt to witness any other particular individuals in the general vicinity of the area in which the crime scene was alleged?” “i just wanna be included!” “funny, the vultures usually show up after the slaughter.” “you’re a little bit crazy, aren’t you? i like that.” “consequences... don't always take the shape we expect them to, do they? they're funny like that.” “...are we still married?” “people are quick to jump to conclusions. they see something, or hear something, and fit it into a preconceived emotional box.” “please don’t make me regret what i’m about to tell you.” “whoa, hold up--i just realized how much i don’t care.” “SUCK IT, NEWTON!” “we said we wouldn’t talk about that!” “help me be the best at being lazy.” “it was a simple mishap with my vanilla-satin scented candles!” “why is he naked?” “HOW DO YOU BURN DOWN A WATER PARK, ___?!” “we’re definitely not just saying that because she could kill us.” “for far too long our people have been oppressed, crushed, under the weight of ourselves! if we don't start standing up to our mortal foe gravity, by god, who will?” “we’ve never needed intelligence before!” “why doesn’t anybody die and stay dead?” “oh, cool! foreshadowing.” “who wants a poisoned pumpkin frappuccino?” “i quit. i’m not going. i’m staying here.” “you’ve always been selfish, but this is bullshit!” “you know, i liked them better when they were funny.” “it’s a bop-it.” “sleep. means. death!” “i know ___ said we should split up, but i was thinking maybe we split up together, you know, because it's scary!” “you talk about ___ a lot.” “this is a big city. so many places for snakes to hide. they could be everywhere all around us. watching us... licking their snake lips...” “jesus, doesn’t anybody speak esperanto?” “err is not a word.” “why do you look alone?” “why don't you tell us what's going on, and we can decide whether to kill you or not?” “looks like we've got quite the sticky mess on our hands!” “oh, i know all about sausage parties! uh, wait, that came out wrong.” “when I least expect it: whambo! you pry open my mind prison and suck out my brain beans!” “i realize now that i’ve just spilled all my brain beans.” “we're just a bunch of dumb rejects hurling ourselves against impossible odds.” “i’m only saying something because i’ve been used enough times in my life already.” “nice! super awesome of you guys! that was sarcastic.” “don’t care. just help me with my dramatic exit.” “that's a great idea! i was just about to suggest it.” “i always say a marine without a code is like a car without a road.” “i always say the best defense is a really tall fence.” “i always say a good soldier is like a rollin’ boulder.” “i always say a mantra a day keeps death at bay.” “i've grown soft around these uncultured philistines.” “goddamn, i can’t believe i have to hear this shit in stereo now.” “you two look cozy.” “i didn’t realize you two were close.” “you’re being too hard on yourself. you’ve changed over the years, i’ve seen it myself.” “i've grown from being a dishonorable killing machine to an honorable killing machine. that's quite the journey.” “i changed my mind. you are evil.” “you don’t have to destroy the past to have a future.” “strategizing can wait until breakfast, at least.” “i killed them. i MURDERED them. i set my vengeance free upon them and it felt so good!” “are we gonna do some snooping around?” “have you ever considered a life in showbusiness?” “try harder, fuckface!” “can we please just bury the hatchet and focus on what's important?” “your mother’s lasagna is mediocre!” “if you guys had to get shot somewhere in your body, where would you do it?” “i can't hear you because some idiot shot my ear off!” “this whole situation is garbage enough to begin with, but... at least we're in it together.” “no plan survives first contact with the enemy.” “the only thing that would make this better is some music.” “we were pawns in their game. but the thing that I love about chess is that sometimes pawns kill kings.” “no, actually, i was raised by wolves. in the forest.” “sometimes i feel like people barely acknowledge my presence.” “something weird might be going on around here.” “anyone who's acting that squeaky clean must have some deep dark secrets.” “ha! gotcha! that's exactly the kind of things bad guys say!” “they used us, they destroyed our lives, and they haven't been made to pay for what they've done.” “you obviously love the sound of your own voice, so why don't you use it to tell its where the fuck our friends are?” “i’m going to kill you so hard, you’ll wish you were dead.” “we fought alongside each other for fucking years. how can you just turn your backs on us like this?” “you don't get to give orders if you're on the bad guys' side!” “now I have gonorrhea and a dead friend.” “stop. touching. my face.” “buckets! oodles! oodles of noodles and toaster strudels! tiempo de mucho. mucho de tiempo!" “yeah, well, i don't remember you being anything but a huge dick, but here you are being cool, so people change.” “yippee-ki-yay, motherfuckers!” “but.. i never got to say goodbye. or thank you for being my friend.” “i'm gonna need a week at the chiropractor when we get out of here.” “is it possible to hallucinate with your ears?” “i’m not here to kill you.” “uh-oh spaghetti-o’s.” “fuck me! fuck all of this!” “you should totally kill me if it strikes your fancy! no pressure!” “the world's best swordsman doesn't fear the second best. He fears the worst, because he can't predict what the idiot will do.” “i can't imagine us doing anything but making this all worse.” “shit, dude! you’re the best we’ve got!” “i like pushing small children down wells.” “can we please settle on a consistent denomination? are we using cardinal directions or are we using clock positions?” “i'm so sneaky. they don't even know what's happening. you can't even see me right now, ___. you're so confused.” “shut up and help me punch this fucking tank!” “as far as days to die go, it's a little overcast. so let's check our corners and make these bastards pay!” “let's light the fires and kick the tires!” “let’s dance with these monkeys and give ‘em what for!” “let's put the pedal to the metal and the rubber to the road!” “let’s get jiggy with it!” “let’s shoot this monkey full of heroin and put it on youtube! actually, let's not do that, it sounds completely horrible.” “let’s teach these midgets how to tango!” “honor, schmonor.” “scout's honor! except I was never a scout because I'm afraid of badges.” “why are we here?” “we don't know why we're here. it's still one of life's great mysteries, isn't it?” “i’m sorry i tried to kill you, it wasn’t personal!” “you'll be stuck between a rock and the frying pan.” “if i said that i would weep for them, would it make you feel any better?” “best friends should be able to say goodbye.” “i think you are cool. like, super awesome, amazing, cool and... i, i always felt like really awesome too, when we were hanging out together.” “i know with my other friends--who, even if you add them all up together aren't really cool as you--i know we're all gonna be okay.” “if you kill me, you'll just perpetuate this never-ending cycle of revenge and retaliation!” “he asked us to deliver an important message to you all. but then he just sang the ducktales theme song and fell back to sleep.” “you know i’ll never forget this, right? i mean, PTSD is forever, isn’t it?” “it’s not the sum of your parts that makes you who you are.” “these people have shown me that real heroes are not born, they're forged. a friend told me once that there's no fate but what you make. and i think he's right.” “alright, well, i'm just gonna try to forget that ever happened and never bring it up again.”

#sentence starters #rp memes #rp meme #ask memes #ask meme #long post

[shireness-says]

Birthday fic recs: @welllpthisishappening

It was @welllpthisishappening​‘s birthday yesterday! Laura is consistently one of my favorite authors, and a dear friend to boot. So, for her birthday, I’d like to recommend some of her deep-cut, hidden gem fics - favorites of mine I think everyone should be reading all the time. Go read them and check out her seriously impressive fic page. The organization is downright inspiring.

Thank you for your friendship and your fics and your willingness to listen to me have a conniption about not-your-hockey-team, darling - I hope the next year gives you all the joy that you deserve!

Start Spreading the News

Emma Swan is just looking for something that’s hers. She’s fairly certain she’s found it in New York, with a group of friends and a good job and picture frames on her apartment walls. But then the past she’s spent so long trying to ignore shows up where she least expects to find it – wearing pinstripes in right field at Yankee Stadium.

More Famous Than A Yankee Can

He knows it’s not a dream. He’s had this dream before. Finding her again and talking to her again and wearing pinstripes. They usually aren’t all the same dream. So this has to be real. But the last place Killian Jones ever expected to see Emma Swan was while he was wearing those pinstripes. With her standing on the bleachers in Yankee Stadium.

I’ve read these fics three times this year. Maybe four. I love it every time - there’s romantic type miracles and pining and fate and I can’t resist it. It’s everything you need to cheer yourself up in these weird stressful times. Every time I read one these, I immediately have to go tell Laura that it’s So Good because I just can’t resist. That good.

What Used to Be Limes

Killian Jones is ready for his rookie season in the NHL. He's got a hell of a shot. An almost acceptable amount of confidence. And a roommate he doesn't want to check. Plus, his best friend. Who he's hopelessly in love with.

A Rooting Interest

Emma's only doing Ruby a favor. And playing bartender is kind of funy — especially when the guy in front of her keeps smiling and looking up how to make drinks. She doesn't want to make a fool of herself. That seems inevitable, though. Once he leaves the tip. Two tickets to a hockey game. And the good-looking guy from the bar turns out to be the star of the New York Rangers.

Look, obviously Laura has proved she’s the master of hockey fics with her Blue Line stuff. But! These are a great pair of hockey fics not from that ‘verse. Disaster rookies! Emma who doesn’t know a thing about hockey! Flirting galore! If you haven’t read these already - you need to get on that right away. And then join me in my quest to remind Laura that if she ever has hockey feelings that don’t fit into Blue Line, she could totally add on to these ‘verses and no one would complain. Or at least I wouldn’t.

Feeling As Good As Love

Emma is excited about this weekend. It's always good — this thing they do, with the house and the ocean and the friendship that seems to stand the test of time. But now, there's an added bonus. Because this year she and Killian aren't just coming to the house on the beach with that friendship moniker hanging over them. They're coming as a couple. A real couple. That kisses. Regularly. And Emma's excited about that too. She just didn't expect her friends not to believe her.

I am, admittedly, biased, because I all but demanded that Laura write this. But that’s only because it’s so up her alley, as demonstrated by the masterpiece that ensued. The banter! The cliches list! Emma’s righteous (and warranted) anger! It’s everything the prompt demanded and more than I could have imagined. Perfect.

In Case of Emergency, Call...

Killian Jones does several things on Thanksgiving: breaks his ankle, meets a very loud redhead in the ER, tells his best friend he loves her. None of them were part of his plan. The plan only involved cookies.

This is a little bit of an odd one - because Emma’s not even there for half the fic. But her presence and her absence and her impact is just so palpable. That pining, man! I live for that pining. The best kind of friends-to-lovers, with plenty of Killian and Ariel banter and a little dose of fake married because why not. What else could you ask for?

Gone the Way of the Dinosaurs

Emma doesn't entirely understand the town of Storybrooke. It is, apparently, the kind of place with story time at the library and spring festivals on Friday night and unfairly attractive people with blue eyes who know all the words to the dinosaur song her kid is also inexplicably singing. She doesn't understand the town of Storybrooke yet, but maybe Emma is willing to do a little research.

I love librarian!Killian. I love tiny!Henry. Put them together? I’m a sucker for it. It reads so believably, both for Emma and for Storybrooke. And I think Laura might have been channeling her own shoe collection, which I find so charming. And you can learn about dinosaurs! And what names they have! Read it in the name of paleontology. 

Wrap Around Your Dreams

Emma Swan is not a very good witch. She’s emotional and prone to immediate reactions and neither one of those things are currently helping her when the body count in Storybrooke is on the rise. And there’s far too much blood at each crime scene and far too much magic and Emma has no idea where to look next. So she does the almost human thing; she starts making a list. Of clues and ideas and the absolute desperate hope that the killer isn’t what she’s certain it absolutely has to be. The last thing she expects is for the notebook to start writing back.

This is a perfect Halloween-type fic. I love epistolary fics and pen pal fics, but I’ve never seen anything like this before or since. The idea of them reaching out across all kinds of magical barriers because fate just gets me, man. Plus, the suspense is absolutely palpable. And the ending! Perfect. Another of my regular rereads. 

All Was Golden In The Sky

Magic is dying. Emma knows it. She can feel it, the emptiness rattling around in her, like it’s trying to make sure she disappears as well. What she doesn’t know is what to do about it, because, suddenly, there is a man in Storybrooke claiming she’s the Savior and a seeress certain a prophecy promises the same and the last thing she expects is for her minimal amount of lingering power to pull her away. To New York City. And another oddly familiar man with blue eyes and a smile that sinks under her skin and makes magic bloom in the air around her. Things are about to get interesting.

I was just enthralled the whole time this was posting. There were so many twists and turns, but everything still weaves together absolutely perfectly. Plus, canon has been adapted so well in this. I don’t even know how to start describing this fic - but trust me, you’ve got to read it. 

Out Of The Frying Pan

Emma Swan is only doing this for one reason, well, make that two. To get her show's numbers back up and, maybe, impress her son. She doesn't like admitting to that second one though. Killian Jones is doing this for absolutely, positively, just one reason. To expand his restaurant. And maybe get Regina off his back. So that's kind of two reasons. Neither one of them is doing a year-long Food Network all-star competition because they're celebrity chefs and there's not really any other choice. Of course not. And neither one of them is enjoying it because they maybe, kind of, sort of enjoy each other. That would be insane.

Ok, this one may not be that overlooked as much as it’s my FAVORITE THING ON THE PLANET. This is a perfect fic. Every time she posts another sequel one-/two-shot, my heart sings. It’s so good. The way Laura paints this competition, and lets everything grow over the course of weeks and month, is perfect - plus, there’s all the romance and Captain Cobra feels you could ever want. If you haven’t read this yet - Get On It Today.

Check out her fics on Tumblr and Ao3, and make sure to give her and them lots of love!

#happy birthday babe friend #welllpthisishappening #cs fic recs

[sbtlns]

Home, part six

Warnings: fight scene, angst, nsfw scene

A/N: hehe cliff hanger >:) 

Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

 Castiel quickly walked out of the kitchen and climbed the stairs to his room, careful to turn his body out of your sight. Once he reached the comfort of his room, he sat down on his bed and pulled his phone out. He really didn’t want to call Dean and ask for help, but he really had no idea what he was doing. Sighing to himself, he reluctantly dialed Dean’s number. “Cas, buddy, how are you? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did Y/N find you? Where-” 

“Dean.” Castiel’s gruff voice cut off the older Winchester through the phone. He sighed before continuing, trying to be patient. “I am well, Y/N found me, we are at her old house,” he answered quickly. He heard the brother let out a sigh of relief. “That’s good to hear man. How are things? Everything alright?” Dean continued to bombard him with questions. “Actually,” Castiel began before sighing again. “I have a bit of a...predicament,” he said vaguely. “...What kind of predicament?” Dean questioned. “My vessel...it appears to be..malfunctioning,” Castiel explained slowly. A moment passed as understanding washed over Dean. “And is this...predicament...in the downstairs region?” Dean asked, holding back a fit of laughter. “...Perhaps,” Castiel answered hesitantly. Dean couldn’t hold back the laughter any longer and Castiel rolled his eyes, annoyed at the lack of help being offered from his friend. “I’m..I’m sorry man...” Dean apologized between laughs. “Dean this isn’t funny,” Castiel scolded into the phone. “I made a fool of myself in front of Y/N. I hope I haven’t offended her..” he trailed off, voice becoming softer at the thought of offending you. “Cas, trust me buddy, you did not offend Y/N,” Dean said, clutching his side and breathing deeply, trying to recover from his laughing fit. “All right, bud, this is what you’re gonna do.” 

After you watched Cas awkwardly shuffle up the stairs, you decided to start on breakfast. You were craving eggs and toast, and you hoped that would be okay with Castiel. You fruitlessly tried not to think about his current state upstairs, but to no avail. You imagined how beautiful he would look in all his glory, head lolled against his shoulders. You fought the urge to run upstairs as you pictured his mouth slightly parted and eyes closed in pleasure. The soft moans he would make as he touched himself.....Get a grip, Y/N! You shook your head rid of your fantasy and pulled your attention back to the eggs you were frying up, ignoring the ache in your core and damp spot in your panties. 

You placed an egg, slice of toast, and some cut fruit on a plate for Castiel when you heard footsteps coming down the stairs. You placed his plate in front of his chair before turning around to greet the former angel. He had tried to make himself presentable; he had changed into jeans and an old tshirt of Dean’s, but the glow in his cheeks and his unusual relaxed state gave him away. “Better?” you smiled gently at him. His cheeks reddened and he gave you a tight lipped smile in confirmation before averting his eyes from yours. “I um, made some breakfast,” you said, gesturing to his plate on the table and sitting down. He nodded and muttered his thanks, still not looking you in the eye. Part of you enjoyed how flustered he was around you, but eventually you decided to throw him a bone. 

“So Cas,” you began, pushing a piece of egg around your plate with your fork. Cas briefly raised his head to look at your before looking back down at his plate. “How do you feel about going shopping with me today? We need to get you some clothes and I need some new jeans,” you said, looking up at him. He relaxed his tensed shoulders, relieved to be talking about something other than his..predicament..from this morning. “I would like that very much,” he said, smiling and looking up to meet you gaze. You stared back into his ocean eyes, allowing yourself to get lost in them for a moment. Castiel was the first one to break the silence. “This breakfast was lovely, thank you, Y/N,” he said looking down at his empty plate. You laughed as you stood up taking both of your plates, “it’s just eggs and toast, Cas,” you said, making your way to the sink. Castiel smiled to himself. Yes, but it’s your eggs and toast, he thought to himself. 

You went back upstairs to get ready for the day, stopping in the mirror to fix your hair. You slipped off your sleep shirt and put on a bralette before rummaging through your drawer for the shirt you wanted. Suddenly you heard Castiel’s voice along with your door creaking open. “Y/N I was w-” he cut himself off. You stood in shock just staring at the intruder. His eyes widened as he realized his mistake. You stood in front of him in nothing but panties and a bralette. He desperately searched for something to say-anything-but was rendered speechless. He couldn’t help his eyes wander to roam up and down your body, taking in every detail. “Cas!” you squeaked, trying to cover yourself up. He snapped out of it and took the hint, and practically tripped over his feet leaving the room. You stood there for a few minutes after he had left trying to regain your composure. You got dressed and took a deep breath before walking down the stairs. Castiel heard you coming down and immediately shot off the couch toward the bottom of the staircase. 

“Y/N I apologize it was not my intention to.. see you, I entered the room to-” “Cas,” you interrupted him, feigning anger, but soon broke when you saw his pleading puppy eyes and the way he held his hands clasped together by his chest. You giggled before saying, “it’s okay, just remember there’s a reason why doors are closed,” he nodded, lowering his head. “Well, now that we’ve both been sufficiently embarrassed, how bout shopping?” you said, raising your eyebrows at him. 

Shopping with Cas had been..interesting to say the least. He was surprisingly very picky. One shirt was too scratchy, another was too tight, another was too blue, and -your favorite- another one was “eh.” “What do you mean “eh?” you asked him. He scrunched his face up. “It’s just....eh.” You wiped a hand over your face before responding. “Cas, bud, do you like anything here?” Cas looked around for a moment before a table of flannels caught his eye. He walked over to the table and started picking up ones that he liked. You rolled your eyes before following him. “Really, Cas? Flannels? You really are a Winchester, huh,” you laughed. He smiled softly, picking up more. The two of you picked out several outfits for him before reaching the underwear section. “So Cas,” you said trying your best to hide your blush and sound nonchalant, “boxers or briefs?” He thought for a moment, looking between his two options. “Boxers,” he decided and you tried not to think of how he would look in each of the pairs he chose. After collecting his new wardrobe, you checked out and got back in the car. “Where to next?” you turned and asked him. “Wherever you would like to go,” he responded, smiling at you. You thought for a second. “I know a good smoothie place, we could go if you wanted?” “That sounds lovely, Y/N.” 

The two of you made easy conversation on the car ride over and you told memories from the places you were passing along the ride. You parked in the lot and you noticed two men in suits standing along the side of the building. Out of habit, you reached down to make sure your gun was still in your waistband. Shrugging off the uneasy feeling you had, the two of you hopped out of the car and headed to the store, your eyes still on the two men. You made eye contact with one of them, who quickly hit his partner to get his attention. “Heads up- 11 o’clock,” you said under your breath to Castiel. His brows furrowed and he looked up to see the two men walking briskly towards the two of you. “Fuck,” you muttered, reaching to put your hand on your gun. You became increasingly aware of the fact that Castiel was weaponless. As an angel he had no need for a gun, and an angel blade was hard to conceal without his signature trenchcoat. You cursed again at this realization as the two men were quickly closing the gap between you. 

“Castiel. We have been looking for you, brother,” one of them said from across the parking lot. Your blood ran cold as you realized two things at once: 1. they had every intention to hurt, if not kill your angel, and 2. your angel blade was in the car...20 feet away. “Castiel. Angel blade. Car. Go.” You said to him through your teeth, pulling your gun out of your waistband. He shot you a concerned glance. “But Y/N-” “NOW.” He hesitantly looked between you and his brothers before sprinting to the car. 

“Walk away while you still have the chance,” you said threateningly, stopping in front of them, gun pointed. The two angels laughed. “You know that gun isn’t going to kill us,” one said mockingly. You set your shoulders back and lifted your head a little higher. “No,” you started, “but it’s gonna hurt like a bitch,” you said, unloading a clip into one of them. The angel groaned and dropped to the ground as the other angrily charged at you. He used his grace to disarm you before winding up and punching you in the face. You stumbled backwards, pain searing across your cheekbone. You came back up, dodging his next punch, but crashing to the ground as he swept your leg out from under your. He pinned you to the ground, squeezing your neck tightly. “Silly human, just wait until we alert angel radio. You-” He was cut off as his eyes and mouth glowed brightly, before collapsing on the ground next to you. You gasped for air, coughing and holding your throat. Castiel stood above you where the angel had been, the angel blade in his hand covered in blood. “Y/N,” he said concerned, reaching his hand out to you. You took it and he hauled you up to your feet and pulled you into a tight hug. You were shocked for a moment before returning his embrace. “Y/N I’m so sorry they were after me not you I could’ve.. I could’ve lost you” his last words came out in a whisper as he gripped you tighter. 

“Cas,” your voice came out strained, a combination of being strangled and from how tight his embrace was. He seemed to pick up on this and released you, still gripping your forearms. “I’m okay, really,” you forced a smile. “Come on we need to get out of here.” The two of you started to make your way to the car when a wave of pain shot up your ankle. You stumbled for a second before Castiel caught you. “You’re hurt,” he said, voice filled with concern. “I’m fine,” you grunted, taking another step. You winced as you put weight on your ankle, which didn’t go unnoticed by Castiel. Without saying anything, he slid an arm around your back and swept your feet off the ground to carry you bridal style back to the car. “Cas!” you squealed. He smiled softly down at you. “You are injured,” he stated plainly, turning his gaze back in front of him. Your heart fluttered at the contact and you melted against his chest. 

He opened the passenger door and lowered you into the seat before walking around the car and getting in the driver’s seat. “When you branded my ribs it warded me against angels right?” you asked, looking over at him and wincing as you moved your neck. He shot you a pained look before answering, “yes. Why?” “Well did you also brand Jimmy’s ribs?” you questioned. Castiel was quiet for a moment before answering, “No, I did not.” You nodded and picked up your phone, searching for the nearest tattoo shop. “We’re gonna mark your vessel so no more angels find us. The one who pinned me down threatened to tell angel radio so at least we know no one else knows where we are.”

~~

“You sure about that?” you questioned after Castiel told the tattoo artist where he wanted the warding. He looked up at you questioningly. “Yeah, tough guy, ribs are gonna hurt, I’m not sure if you can handle that,” the artist teased. Castiel clenched his jaw and glared at the man. “I can handle it,” he said firmly. You exchanged a glance with the artist before he shrugged and got to work. Cas hid his pain well in the beginning, but after the first half hour his eyes closed tightly and he winced as the artist continued. After what felt like years to Castiel, the artist was finally done and you paid him before getting back in the car with Castiel. “Looks good,” you said softly as he lifted his shirt up gingerly. A blush crept up his cheeks before he started the car and pulled out of the lot.

When you got home, Castiel insisted on carrying you up the stairs and tending to the cut along your cheekbone. After he was satisfied with his work, he turned his attention to your ankle. “I do not think that it’s broken, but it will be sore for a few weeks,” he said, carefully turning your foot in his hands. “I’m sorry, if I had my grace I would have healed you by now and you would not be in pain,” he said sadly, hanging his head. “Hey,” you said, lifting his chin up. “I’ll be okay Cas, thank you.” He gave you a small smile in return. 

“I don’t think I have it in me to cook tonight, is pizza okay?” you asked. “Of course,” he assured you. You called in a delivery order to your local pizza shop as Castiel carried you back down the stairs. He set you down on the couch and you put on a tv show to pass the time before the pizza got there. Halfway through the episode Castiel cleared his throat. “Y/N, I truly am sorry about today. You’re hurt because of me, because of a mistake that I made. And my brothers they almost....” he took a deep breath before continuing, “I don’t know what I would have done if they had. I..can’t lose you, Y/N,” he turned to face you, desperation filling his eyes. “I-” he was cut off by the sound of the doorbell ringing. He sighed, closing his eyes and dropping his shoulders before rising from the couch. You sat in shock as Castiel greeted the pizzaman at the door. What was he going to say? Your heart fluttered at the thought of him confessing his feelings for you. You had been fantasizing about it for so long, it didn’t seem possible.. or did it?

Whatever Castiel was going to say remained unsaid. The two of you ate the pizza and got distracted by the show until you glanced at the clock and realized how late it was. “Cas,” you groaned, sitting up straighter. “We should go to bed.” He nodded and stood up before facing you and scooping you off the couch. “Cas,” you giggled,” “you know you don’t have to keep carrying me, right?” He gave you a toothy grin. “I know, Y/N,” he said, carrying you up that stairs and into your room. He set you down on your bed. “Goodnight, Y/N. Pleasant dreams,” he said before closing your door behind him. You sighed. “Goodnight, Cas,” you said softly. 

~~ 

It was around 2am when you heard it. “No...NO....stop....please.” You shot up in bed, straining to hear. “Please..don’t...Y/N!....NO!” You jumped out of bed, ignoring the pain in your ankle and running across the hall to Castiel’s room. You burst through the door, gun at the ready. You didn’t find an intruder, but you did find Castiel writhing under his sheet, sweating, and clearly in distress. “Let..her..go,” he said through his teeth, thrashing again. You quickly set your gun on his dresser and sat down next to him on the bed. “Cas,” you cooed, running your fingers through his hair. The thrashing stopped, but his face was still contorted in fear. “Shhh, you’re okay Cas, it’s a dream. You can wake up, Cas,” you said softly, still stroking his hair. His eyes shot opened and stared up at you panicked. “Y/N..I..you..” he stammered. “Shhhh, it’s okay Castiel,” you cooed. His features softened and his body relaxed under your touch. You were tempted to stay and keep playing with his hair, but you knew you should let him sleep. “I’ll be right across the hall, Cas,” you said lightly, getting up. His hand flew to your wrist. 

“Please,” he choked out. You turned to him, eyebrows furrowed. “Please stay,” he looked up at you with puppy eyes and you had to restrain yourself from throwing yourself at him and holding him as tight as you could. “Of course,” you smiled at him. He hurriedly scooted back on the bed to make room for you and you climbed in beside him, back to his chest. “Do you want to talk about it?” you asked softly. “No,” he said into your hair. You nodded slightly and adjusted to get closer to him. He tensed slightly as the curve of your ass brushed against his now hardening member. You felt heat pool in your core as you felt his cock hardening against you. Your body betrayed you and instinctively moved to slightly grind against him. You heard him grunt before pulling you tighter against his chest. “Y/N,” he said in a strained voice. “Hmm?” you hummed, moving your hips rhythmically against his hardening cock. He groaned, hands sliding up your shirt and pulling you even tighter against his body. The ache in your core began to grow as he moved his hands to grip your waist tight. You grinded harder against him, eliciting another groan. “Y/N..I,” he trailed off. “I...” The effect you had on him gave a major boost to your confidence. You turned around to straddle him and his eyes grew wide as his hardened member made contact with your clothed pussy. “I..” was all he managed to get out. “Use your words, Castiel,” you said, voice honeyed. 

----------

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#cas x reader #human!cas #castiel #human!castiel x reader #castiel x reader #castiel smut #castiel x reader smut

[knifeshoeoreofight]

Part 5/?

(part 1 here) (part 2 here) (part 3 here) (part 4 here)

tw: emetophobia

Note: I wrote the storm bit before Tropical Storm Isaias happened, I intend no connection to or disrespect towards a serious real world event. 

A month really is a long time. Sid sets up an office of sorts, where he can throw the shutters open to let in the sun and the sea air. He spends some time setting up his laptop securely as best he can. He hopes the VPN helps. He’s not a computer guy, that was always Flower’s department. 

Flower. He misses his friends, and his family. He has some time before anyone will start to wonder why they haven’t heard from him, so he can try and decide what the safest course of action would be once people start to worry about his radio silence. Maybe letters, so nothing can be tracked electronically? 

He keeps as low a profile as possible. He goes to the supermarket late at night, when the only other people around are tired and also hoping to avoid interaction. 

His favorite thing about the area is the roadside fruit stand he finds the one time he wanders further than the grocery store. It’s run by a little old Cuban lady, who seems perpetually inclined to not want to talk to anyone, which suits him just fine. He returns home with a old plastic bag stretched thin with a fragrant burden of ripe guavas and papayas. 

The papaya’s floral, salmon-pink flesh is the best thing he’s ever eaten and he vows to have some on hand for Zhenya to try when he emerges. 

He does a little half-hearted poking at his research, but there’s not a lot he can do without lab equipment. He works out using YouTube videos. He lays out in the sun and discovers, to his annoyance, that his shoulders have a tendency to freckle as they tan. 

He walks along the beach and goes snorkeling with an old mask and fins he finds in a closet. He sees clouds of silver fish and even a stingray. He wishes Zhenya were here to see it too. 

Every night, before he heads to bed, he checks on the pod. Nothing looks different from day to day.

He has strange dreams at night, colors and sensations so disconcerting and, well, alien, that he often wakes up in a sweat. In many, he sees himself but distorted and strange, cast in shades of ultraviolet and blue. 

It’s comforting. Zhenya is alive, and dreaming. 

***

It might be his imagination, but the air feels charged when he wakes up on the morning of the thirtieth day. Zhenya had told him the time span was approximate, but he still rolls out of bed and heads out to the ship as soon as he throws on some clothes. 

The air is muggy and the sky is overcast. A storm brewing, maybe. The pod, when he reaches it, is intact and unchanged. 

The day drags, the hours creeping by bloated and slow. He goes for a run, he rinses off in the sea. The salt water dries tacky on his skin so he showers it off. Switches on the local news. Registers nothing. Makes himself eat. Makes himself wait another two hours before he checks the ship again in the early afternoon. Nothing. 

As he suspected it might, thunder rumbles through the low-hanging clouds around 3 pm. He watches the wind pick up and toss the fronds of the palms outside the living room window. He checks the weather on his phone, and decides to close the storm shutters on the house. 

The house is stifling and claustrophobic after that. He listens to the pitch of the wind increase and the first bit of drizzle begin to pat against the shutters. 

The news had called it a tropical depression, but as the rainsong outside builds to a roar, though, Sid reasons that a storm is a fucking storm. 

He can’t stop thinking about Zhenya--  about what might happen if he emerges to this chaos alone, disoriented by human senses. Sid makes the decision in an instant. He grabs a flashlight and his phone, and yanks the door open into the driving wind. 

The rain is strangely temperate as it soaks through his clothes. He stands there in the yard for a minute, taking in the dissonant feeling of wind and rain that don’t carry the icy winter teeth he’s used to. 

When a palm frond tears loose and whips him across the face, he hurries to the ship. The noise of the storm is abruptly silenced as soon as the airlock door closes behind him with a sucking hiss. 

Surprise, surprise, nothing has changed. Sid sighs, and goes to try and find something cloth-like to dry off with. Poking around the ship’s bedroom for a bit results in finding a compartment with an assortment of soft, folded textiles. The texture of them is impossibly strange, but they’re clearly woven material of some kind and they absorb water well enough. 

There are a few items that look different, set off to one side of the storage compartment. They’re too small for Zhenya’s original form, and they look recognizably like human clothing, in loose, forgiving shapes. Clothes intended for Zhenya post-reconfiguration, he thinks. He sets them carefully aside, and takes one of the more blanket-y things back into the room containing the pod. With a sigh, he sits against the wall and wraps himself in the blanket. 

The white noise hum of the ship’s machinery pulls him into a trance, then a fitful doze that sends him in and out of awareness like a slow motion stone, skipping on the surface of a pond.

***

He isn’t sure what eventually wakes him. A sound, a sudden fountain of garbled words and images that he only senses in his mind, the coppery tang of blood. 

He jerks to consciousness with a start. The pod is open. Curled up on the floor in front of it, in a spreading pool of viscous liquid, is Zhenya. 

“Zhenya! Oh my god--” 

As Sid staggers to his feet, he registers that the link is there, but all he’s getting is a flood of panic and can’tbreathecan’tbreathecan’t-

He falls to his knees at Zhenya’s side, heedless of the mess. He can’t fully remember what you do for someone choking. Zhenya is an unwieldy deadweight as Sid wraps his arms around his torso and hauls him up. One, two, three blows between the shoulder blades to no avail. He clenches his hands together at Zhenya’s waist and jabs up and in, sharply. Once, twice. He’s had first aid training in the Heimlich but he’s never had to use it before. 

Zhenya’s body convulses, and then he’s leaning forward, vomiting. His sides heave and he draws in a harsh, gasping breath. 

Zhenya Sid thinks frantically. Can you hear me? Can you breathe? 

Zhenya groans, and coughs. The mad throb of panic is fading from their link.  His breaths are coming more evenly now, and Sid rubs his hand over Zhenya’s back in slow, soothing circles. 

“That’s it,” he finds himself crooning. “That’s it, there you go.” 

For the first time, what Zhenya actually looks like now registers. Sid can’t see his face, curled over as he is, but he’s. 

He’s human. Or, he looks it. 

Winter-pale skin, limbs that still seem miles long, broad shoulders and a strong back. Dark hair plastered to his bent head. 

The vulnerable nape of his neck makes something go tight and painful in Sid’s chest. 

“Zhenya,” he says, out loud. 

Zhenya takes a deep, shuddering breath and raises his head. And turns to look at him. 

His eyes are glowing bright, bright blue, but as Sid watches, they fade, going dark and fathomless: human. Long lashes, spiky and wet against his skin as he blinks, slow. Strong, harsh features that he can see Natalia in, even cast in such a masculine mould. 

He’s staring at Sid, and Sid can almost read the emotion that flits like scudding clouds across his new face. Incredulity? Surprise? Not quite those, but close. 

“Hi,” Sid says, and smiles, because he’s so relieved and he can’t help it. 

Zhenya makes a soft, helpless noise and his hands grip Sid’s arms, as if he wants to rise.

Sid stands, and anchors Zhenya as he slowly, laboriously, gets one knee up, and lurches to his feet. 

“Oh, damn,” Sid says. Zhenya is a good couple feet shorter than he used to be, but he still towers over Sid. 

“Can you breathe okay now?” he asks Zhenya, and Zhenya coughs again, clearing his throat. He nods, and Sid’s shoulders slump. “Thank fuck.” 

Crisis over.

Sid lets himself keep looking at him. Stubborn jaw, long, lean torso, narrow hips. His hands are big enough to encircle Sid’s not insubstantial forearms.  

He meets Zhenya’s gaze again. He still feels like he’s looking at a stranger’s face, not at the being who he’d grown so fond of. He’d felt something from the link earlier, but can they still-- 

Sid, Zhenya says into his mind, and relief knifes sweetly through him. It’s still Zhenya. If he closes his eyes, it’s like nothing has changed.

Sid- Sid open them, open your eyes-- 

Sid does, and Zhenya is right there, leaning in closer, staring down at him. His eyes have gone wide and his mouth is slack with surprise. Clumsily, but incredibly gently, he lets go with one hand to tilt Sid’s chin up. And keeps staring.

I didn’t know Zhenya thinks, finally. 

Sid lets out a nervous, airless laugh. “Know...what?” 

I didn’t know that your eyes were that color. 

Sid swallows. The look in Zhenya’s eyes is terrifyingly close to wonder. 

“They’re just hazel,” he says, face going hot, but Zhenya shakes his head. 

I saw in a different spectrum, before, and I had no idea. They’re beautiful. 

Sid feels like the bottom has dropped out of his stomach. “I, uh. Thank you?” 

Zhenya tilts his head to the side, and, slowly, his lips curve up into a smile. 

Or that you sounded like that. To other human eardrums, at least.

Sid thought he was flushing before but apparently his face can get even warmer. 

“I have a stupid voice. I even, like, try to pitch it lower, and stuff.” He’s babbling. “Flower always teases me about having the vocal fry of a Kardashian, but--” 

Your voice is lovely, Zhenya thinks indignantly. All of you, is lovely. 

It’s not something Sid has really ever heard another man tell him, before. He knows what he looks like, a lot of men have had a lot to say about his lips, his ass, et cetera, et cetera. He’s been called good-looking, or even pretty, especially when he was younger. Not lovely. 

“Yeah, well.” His voice cracks a little. “You don’t look too bad, yourself. “

All of Zhenya’s emotions seem to flit across his face as unconsciously and freely as a child’s. He smiles now, wide and bright. 

Really? Good. 

The grin morphs into a smirk that, oh no. Nope. Uh-uh. 

How is my height? And my-- 

“We are not talking about your dick!” Sid squawks, and Zhenya laughs out loud, startling them both. He raises a hand to his mouth, looking so indignant at the noise his body made without his express permission that Sid has to laugh too.

Oh, fine. I see. I was merely going to ask about my eye color, and now you’re laughing at me? 

Zhenya’s eyes dance, and he’s still smiling, so Sid just shakes his head. 

“They’re nice. Really, uh, dark brown.” 

Sleepy, gentle. Soulful. 

Bedroom eyes, a traitorous part of his brain insists, and Sid wills it to shut the fuck up. 

“Let’s, um” His voice cracks. “”Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

***

#eyes emoji #sidgeno #sidney crosby/evgeni malkin #hockey rpf #zvezda #dana writes a thing