#through the items eli picked out for him

[fourraccoonsinacoat]

Head Full of Ghosts: Chapter 3

Pairing: Astarion x Dark Urge

Summary: Takes place during the events of Baldur's Gate 3 and explores the romance between Astarion and the Dark Urge, as well as the friendships and relationships she has with her companions. Plus, everyone gives shit to Gale about his cooking. Tags: Slow Burn, Angst, Pining, Humor, Violence, Friends to Lovers, Developing Friendships, Developing Romance, Spoilers for the Dark Urge and BG3 in general, Dark Urge as Original Female Character Rating: Mature (Will eventually be Explicit, just not there yet.) Current Chapter Count: 3/? Read on AO3 Current Word Count: 13,050

Author Notes: I'm finishing up the fourth chapter and realized I never uploaded this chapter to Tumblr. So here we are! Getting this fic back on track and should have the next chapter up soon.

Chapter 3: Monsters

“You know she is a hag, yes?” Lae’zel’s severe and even voice cut through the sticky swamp air like a hot knife through a wedge of Durinbold cheese. 

The bog was a foul place, both in atmosphere and in smell. The air was thick with humidity and an ever-present smell of wet rot. Trees sagged and bent at jagged angles, their tired limbs wilting in the gloom, and a thin fog seemed to permeate every corner of the swamp. A hazy light filtered through the tree canopy, casting blotchy shadows upon the muddy ground. 

The path the four companions were following sank into marsh every several yards, forcing the group to pick their way through mire and muck. The slog was slow, and there was much complaining. Especially from one particular high elf who no one had told not to wear freshly polished leather boots. 

“I am like…seventy percent sure she is a hag, yeah,” Eli answered as she carefully stepped over a rotted tree limb, half submerged in murky filth. “I mean, she’s entirely too eccentric to just be a normal human, right?” 

She looked over to Astarion for support, who was currently trying to rub some manner of sludge off his doublet.

“She certainly isn’t playing Three-Dragon Ante with a full deck, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Astarion replied coolly before throwing up his hands and huffing in irritation, the stain unyielding.

Lae’zel hummed for a moment, considering. “Gale is eccentric and a normal human, is he not?” she questioned, amber eyes fixing on their resident wizard who, at the moment, was trying to free the hem of his robe from the clawing grasp of a gnarled tree root.   

Eli sighed. “Gale has a magic bomb capable of leveling entire cities in his chest. I would not call that normal.”

“You wound me, Eli.” Gale responded in a good-natured tone as he tugged his robe free and the group began moving once more.

“You consumed an enchanted bracer yesterday at breakfast,” Eli quipped, recalling the morning fondly. Karlach had been fascinated, quickly trying to get Gale to absorb several other items from their camp hoard and asking him if he “took on their powers,” as she put it. 

Eli chuckled at the memory before concluding, “You’re as deranged as the rest of us and it’s not up for debate.”

Their little group really had become a hodgepodge of oddities over the past few days. Karlach was settling in well, because where else would she fit other than with their traveling sideshow which included a vampire who could walk in the sun, a warlock who was recently transformed into a part-devil by his patron, an amnesiac with the compulsion to murder anything that looked at her crossly, and all the rest of them. 

Eli was starting to wonder if she had a penchant for picking up emotionally constipated strays. They were all kind of outcasts in some way or another. People just trying to get along in a world that had kicked them in the teeth and tossed them out with the garbage. She still had no idea why they’d all just sort of accepted her as their group’s figurehead, but she was beginning to feel a certain affinity for their gang of misfits. They were all fighting battles both within and without, and Eli couldn’t help but feel a certain kinship with people who were struggling with their own personal demons, just as she was.

At least as the day wore on her constant headache had faded to a dull throb, rather than the brain splitting white-hot pain she’d been experiencing. Her memories were still lost, and whenever she tried to call upon them she was only met with flashes of red violence. Images of mangled bodies, ruptured limbs, stringy viscera…it all melted and jumbled together in a confusing blur of chaos. Her dreams were no better, and her nighttime raids on the camp’s supply of books and wine were no secret among the party. Both Shadowheart and Karlach had even joined her on separate occasions. Hells, she’d have a proper book club up and running soon.

“So,” Lae’zel’s stern voice brought Eli out of her musings. “You trust this hag?”

“No,” Eli nearly spat the word out in a laugh. Auntie Ethel, as she called herself, was a lot of things, and trustworthy was not one of them. Astarion’s assessment of Ethel as ‘positively demented’ was accurate, and hags were not known as an honest sort.

“Good,” said Lae’zel, slightly drawing out the word in approval. “Lest I remind you that the only way to remove a ghaik tadpole is a Zaith'isk.”

Eli could feel the gith’s eyes on her and she did her best not to bristle under what she was sure was a judgmental stare. “I am aware,” Eli said, trying to sound unfazed and relatively certain she was failing miserably.

Lae’zel continued to press. “And a Zaith'isk can only be found at a gith creche.” She laid emphasis on the last two words, as if she were pointing something obvious out to a very dimwitted child.

Eli felt the back of her neck and ears start to go warm as irritation stirred in her chest and tightened her shoulders. The throbbing headache at the back of her skull began to growl. 

“You don’t say…” Eli replied, quietly pleading to whatever deity she couldn’t remember worshipping to please just let her have the rest of the day without feeling like her brain was on fire. 

“I just did say.” Lae’zel shot back, drawing a sidelong glare from Eli.

Eli liked Lae’zel. For the most part. When she wasn’t threatening tiefling refugees or complaining about the lack of spice in Gale’s cooking. Though, to her credit, Gale’s food was kind of bland. 

The gith fighter was blunt, stubborn, opinionated, fierce and one hell of a talent when it came to steel and blade. Eli appreciated Lae’zel’s steadfast loyalty and belief in her people’s culture, and even felt a slight pang of jealousy for it. It grounded the warrior and gave her a perspective from which to view the world, something Eli did not have. Culture, family, heritage…they were the building blocks of a person. Even if a person rejected or outgrew those foundational aspects of themselves, they still provided guiderails – or at the very least an anchor for one’s identity. 

Without those things, Eli felt adrift and directionless in a vast and swirling ocean, constantly beaten upon the rocks before being dragged back down to drown.  

“Explain to me why we are seeking this hag who you do not trust and who cannot remove the tadpole,” Lae’zel said, driving at a point Eli knew was coming and one she wasn’t sure she had a decent argument against. “Instead, should we not be pursuing a more productive course of action?”

Eli sighed, rubbing at her temples as her headache began to mount. “I’m curious,” she responded rather lamely. 

“I see,” Lae’zel said with a tone that indicated the gith was wholly unimpressed by Eli’s reasoning. “So, the situation at Emerald Grove continues to escalate, goblins continue to terrorize the Sword Coast, the druid healer remains missing, and the tadpoles in our brains remain unremoved.” Eli internally cringed at the chiding way in which Lae’zel spoke. “But, let us humor your curiosity. What is the worst that could happen?”

The question hung in the air uneasily. The worst that could happen was…really fucking bad. Everyone could die. Eli and her merry band of misfits could all turn into mind flayers. The Grove could fall under the absolute rule of a tyrant and racist. And the Sword Coast could get fully and aggressively fucked. Why was this all her problem, again?

“Lae’zel, was that sarcasm I just heard?” Astarion chimed in, and Eli felt a pull of appreciation towards him. He probably hadn’t meant to run interference between Eli and her interrogator, but she was thankful for it all the same. 

Truth be told, there was a small part of her that hoped Auntie Ethel did have a solution for their tadpole troubles. While they weren’t the most honorable of sorts, hags were rather enterprising and shrewd. And given the nature of their unconventional problem, an unconventional solution would more than likely be required. Besides, if things went south, they could just kill her. That seemed to be a particular specialty of their group. 

“Sarcasm often accompanies truth,” Lae’zel said with a pointed tone. 

Astarion chuckled lightly and Eli felt something not unlike faint affection flutter in her chest. She very quickly shoved it down into the black hole within herself where all the things she didn’t want to deal with went. Nope. That wasn’t good. That was the very last thing she needed right now. 

It had been happening more and more since the night she’d made a complete fool of herself, drunkenly asking him if they were still friends. Still friends. Gods, she was such a loser, and Astarion surely thought she was a total basket case after that encounter. But, every now and then, he’d give her a smirk or say something that caused a laugh to bubble up, and then that weird and endearing feeling would creep up and holy shit was this not the time or the place! Besides, that man had more red flags than a circus, and it wasn’t like Eli was a bastion of sanity, so together they’d be about as functional as wet hot garbage. 

“How profound,” Astarion continued, oblivious to Eli’s distressing mental spiral. “This little jaunt in the swamp does seem to be a rather unhygienic deviation from more pressing concerns.” 

The appreciation she’d felt for him earlier poofed away, and Eli glared. “I will turn this whole party around if you all don’t stop your complaining!”

Astarion’s eyes lit up with delight. “Oh, please do! I worry the putrid scent of squalor and anguish is never coming out of my clothes.” He ran his hands down his doublet, trying to smooth out some wrinkles, and sighed in an overdramatic fashion.

“I, for one, am looking forward to seeing Ethel again,” Gale chimed in as they continued to trod down the muddy path. All of them would be washing muck off their clothes for days. “Fey and the like often have access to magic that even a wizard of my caliber cannot wield. This deviation - as you put it, Astarion - could prove very advantageous if we play our cards right.”

Eli resisted the urge to glance over her shoulder at Astarion, who had surely just rolled his eyes so hard he could see up into his own skull. She could practically feel the disdain radiating off of him and pointedly kept her eyes ahead, scanning the dreary bogland for any sign that they may be nearing Auntie Ethel’s dwelling.

It took Astarion all but two seconds to quip back at the wizard. “Gale, your opinion is like the filth on my boots. Unwanted and irritating,” he said with all the cheer of a muddy wet cat as he paused to kick some grime off the bottom of one of said boots.

“It is a wonder any of you have survived this long,” Lae’zel said, glowering at Astarion as he continued to preen. 

“We are a rather astonishing group, aren’t we?” Eli asked with a small smirk, glancing back at the gith.

Lae’zel just rolled her eyes.

Eli was glad for the banter, as it provided some distraction from the pulsating headache growing behind her eyes. However, as they rounded a bend in the path where the trail began to climb upwards towards the interior of the bog, snaking away from the swampy shoreline, Eli was struck with a surging agony that flashed white hot throughout her head. She doubled over, the heel of her hand pressing into the ridge of her brow as a hiss escaped from behind her clenched teeth. Her stomach churned angrily, a hunger rising from deep within that neither food nor drink would satiate. Her head felt as if it were shattering into fragments, her conscious self being pulled apart at the seams as something else tried to push its way to the surface. Something feral, and frenzied and starved.

From somewhere behind her, Eli thought she heard Gale muttering a question. She then felt a hand on her shoulder and wanted nothing more in the world than to seize it and dig her nails into the supple flesh. She wanted to smell the crisp metallic tang of blood in the air as her fingers peeled back skin as if she were pulling the rind off a particularly ripe fruit, bloody pulp exposed and raw. The thought of her fingers sliding between muscle and skin, slick with blood, feeling fibrous sinew tear away and hearing the wet squelch and pop as she degloved flesh from limb…   

Fist clenched, her nails dug into the palm of her hand as she fought to keep control. A pleasurable shiver ran down her spine as her mind entertained depraved thoughts, and for a moment she thought she may vomit where she knelt. She was not herself. Her mind was splintering with a hundred craven desires…she wanted to walk across fields of ruptured bodies and feel the viscera turn to jam between her toes. Her muscles tensed and she flinched away from the hand, standing in a near delirious state and muttering some nonsense about “needing a minute” before stumbling off into the fen. 

Eli needed to put distance between herself and her companions. At least for the moment. At least until her head cleared. She slogged through the wetland, unfocused on where she was going, until she felt a dampness seeping through her boots. She stopped and blinked, trying to wrench her consciousness back from the brink. As her sight cleared and the world around her came back into focus, Eli found herself standing ankle-deep in water near a riverbank, looking out over the vast and gloomy expanse of the Chionthar River - the opposite bank obscured by fog. 

Sloshing her way back to shore, Eli stepped back onto somewhat solid ground just as she heard a rustling in the thicket. Her eyes shot up to see Astarion picking through the snarl of brush and weeds that bordered the muddy shoreline. His expression was one of exasperated frustration, brow furrowed and mouth pulled into a grimace, as he tugged a booted foot free of the clinging bramble. 

“Gods below, this entire place needs to be tossed into Avernus,” he grumbled as he plucked a bur off his doublet and flicked it to the ground. Astarion then glanced up at her, crimson eyes guarded, although Eli thought she caught the glimmer of something else in his gaze…a flash of something softer. But it came and went like a spark catching alight then burning out just as quickly. “Are you…alright?” 

His tone was hesitant and uncertain, as if he were unused to the concept of asking after someone else. Astarion had an edge about him that never seemed to dull, as if he were always acting under the assumption that those around him would lash out at any given moment without warning. Eli wasn’t sure why, but she felt as if she recognized that particular brand of uneasiness. It was a tension that came from an impartial distrust of anyone and anything. A response to a life lived in a constant state of conflict, always ready for fight or flight. Something gnawed at the far recesses of her mind, tugging at a memory she couldn’t quite grasp. She understood that feeling, though she did not know why…

“I think I am. Now, at least," Eli said, rubbing at her eyes as her headache growled but remained tempered. Her mind seemed to be clearing and realigning itself to the present, no longer at risk of breaking and letting loose whatever atrocity lay coiled up inside herself. “You didn’t have to follow me out here. I just needed a moment to collect my thoughts.”

Astarion eyed her and raised a brow, disbelief apparent on his face. “My dear, whatever just happened in that pretty head of yours is not nearly as frivolous as you’re trying to make it seem.” 

Eli winced internally. He was right, of course, and it wasn’t as if she had been subtle when she’d walked off aimlessly into the bog after being doubled over and obviously in pain. Hell, given how she must have looked in that moment, he’d probably followed her to make sure she didn’t trod blindly into a sinkpit or end up ensnared by some flesh-eating swamp ficus.

She sighed and ran a hand absentmindedly through her silvery hair. “I just don’t want to worry people,” Eli conceded. “We have enough to deal with, without adding my violent mood swings and absconded memory to the mix.” She spread her hands out, as if the gesture could represent the absolute shitstorm they dealt with on a daily basis.

Astarion considered her for a moment, expression thoughtful and impassive, before he shook his head with a small smile. “I believe you were the one who pointed out earlier that everyone in our weird little group is ‘deranged,’ as you put it.” He emphasized her choice of wording with a gesture of his hands, pantomiming plucking the word out of thin air.

The action brought a soft smile to her lips. She enjoyed Astarion’s embellishments and dramatics. The elf had a flare for the extravagant that she found both endearingly silly and strangely alluring…

Nope. No. Stop it. She shoved that twinge of attraction back down into the deep dark hole within and refocused herself. “Yeah, well, one of us needs to at least act somewhat sensible,” Eli quipped with a smirk. “Can’t have Zevlor and his lot figuring out how truly unhinged we all are. We may not get paid,” she said the last bit with more than a little fake indignation. 

Astarion played along, pretending to be scandalized and clutching his nonexistent pearls. “Now that would be a tragedy. I have every intention of hiring a witch at the first opportunity to hex Gale’s cookpot so it will only produce boiled squid,” he said cheerily. “I’m assuming that won’t be cheap.” 

Amused with himself, Astarion tipped his chin up, smirking at Eli with all the wiliness of a fox. For her part, Eli just rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop a grin from spreading on her face as she imagined Gale, flustered and put out, ranting about the juvenile use of magic. 

A thought occurred to her, then. Something unbidden and completely inane, but one she latched onto desperately. It was a joke that had bubbled up from the deep recesses of her broken memory, and though she had no idea where she heard it or in what context, she was delighted at the prospect of finding something among the rubble of her ruined mind. It set the tiniest flicker of hope alight within her that maybe, eventually, she may be able to recover more. 

Eyes bright, and with a reserved sort of hopefulness stirring in her chest, she gave Astarion a genuinely dorky grin and blurted out with all the self-restraint of a toddler; “What do you call a magician who cooks?”

Surprise overtook the elf’s face, and he tilted his head curiously with a small laugh, thrown by the sudden and highly abrupt tangent. Before he could speak, however, a snap sounded in the brush behind the pair. Both Eli and Astarion turned to find a man, tall and well built with slicked back hair the color of burnt coffee. His mouth, framed by a neatly kept goatee, was turned down in a grimace, jaw clenched, and in his hands the man held a very large crossbow - loaded and aimed in their direction. 

“I’d think twice before you get much closer to him, miss,” the stranger warned, eyes darting from Eli to Astarion as if he expected the elf to set upon him any second. “He’s dangerous.”

Eli frowned at the stranger, fingers curling reflexively into the beginning gesture for her Eldritch Blast incantation. “And yet you’re the one with a crossbow pointed at me,” she said warily, watching the man’s fingers for any twitch or movement on the trigger. 

Next to her, she could feel Astarion stiffen defensively, but he remained quiet. Had the stranger not had a crossbow bolt aimed in her direction, Eli would have been more curious who he was and his connection to Astarion. Due to his comments, she assumed he was aware of Astarion’s vampirism, though she couldn’t be certain. Her curiosity, however, would have to simmer in the face of their current predicament. 

“Call it a precaution,” the stranger said before tipping the crossbow in the direction of Astarion. “You know what he is? Vampire spawn.” He said the last bit as if it was supposed to be some revelation, venom laced within his words. 

Eli studied the tip of the crossbow bolt, noting how the sharpened edge glimmered faintly in the hazy light. Silver? She glanced back and caught the man’s eyes with her own, a growing dislike darkening her expression. 

“Old news, my friend,” she said with more than a hint of antagonistic sarcasm. “Known that since I met him.” 

This drew a somewhat startled noise from Astarion, whose gaze she could suddenly feel turn to her. “You did?” he asked with a genuine note of surprise in his voice. 

Astarion had not admitted to being a vampire spawn until the night Eli caught him creeping in on her as she slept, hungry and poised to bite. Up until that point, though, he’d done a rather poor job of concealing his nature. What with the bite scars on his neck and his pale, almost pearlescent, complexion. The fact he could walk in sunlight was an oddity, of course, but given that she’d just flown through Avernus on a mind flayer ship after having an illithid tadpole inserted into her brain, a vampire traipsing about in the sun wasn’t even the weirdest thing she’d seen that day.   

She chanced a quick sidelong glance at Astarion and quirked an eyebrow. “Well, yeah. It was kind of the worst kept secret in Faerûn. Shadowheart and I even had a bet about who you’d try to bite first.” Eli still owed her a bottle of sweetwine, come to think of it.

She shook the thought from her head and turned her attention back to the stranger who still had his crossbow trained on them. “Mind introducing yourself before you start a fight you’ll regret?” she asked, watching his body language for any sign that he may back down now he knew Eli was fully aware of her companion’s condition.

The stranger glared at her, and Eli sighed. Another day, another fight with some ignorant douchecanoe who was wasting the last moments of their life antagonizing her. That darkness inside of her, the thing that craved slaughter and whose language was only violence, shifted restlessly like a dog in a cage, pressing at the barricades with a cruel need. She fought to push it back, but gods she could imagine her hands tearing into his gut, ripping dying organs from the yawning wound, warm and wet. The iron scent of blood in the air. The agony twisting his face as he writhed. It would be beautiful brutality. 

Her headache was mounting once again, and through the throbbing pressure she heard the man say; “You can call me monster hunter.”

He braced his crossbow, targeting Astarion, and Eli was moving faster than coherent thought. She felt a force collide with her left shoulder, nearly knocking her off balance, and then the world melted away into a manic savagery that was both achingly familiar and terrifyingly transcendent. 

Flesh would rend. Bone would snap. And her hunger would be sated. For now. 

The headache faded, and Eli was suddenly aware of a thick and deep pain radiating from her shoulder. Her mind swam dully, like a bobber struggling to stay above water as forces tried to pull it down. She felt…tired. Dazed. 

Why was she on the ground? Was that her blood spattered across her bracers? Why was Astarion yelling?

“Godsdamnit! Why would you do that!” 

Something jostled her, and the pain in her shoulder flared. She groaned and tried to turn her head towards Astarion’s voice only to find she was propped up against him. He was kneeling next to her, a hand braced against her back to keep her seated upright while his other hand pressed into her shoulder. She grimaced, trying to ignore the searing agony rocketing down her left side, but found herself unable to focus. 

She looked up into Astarion’s face, head bobbing to the side, and squinted at him. A range of emotions flitted across his face as he looked down at her. Anger, frustration, exasperation…all common day-to-day expressions for the snarky and uppity elf. But there was something else, too. Something in the clench of his jaw, the tightness of his lips and the way his sharp, clear eyes stayed fixed on her. Concern…

“Do…what?” she asked, confused. 

Eli continued to watch his face, thinking dully about when she’d ever seen him worried and coming up with nothing. Well, she wasn’t in a great state of mind at the moment and kind of just wanted to go to sleep. She was probably just forgetting…

Her mind drifted…eyes closing wearily…

Astarion shook her gingerly and she let out a noise somewhere between a hiss and a growl. “That bolt you idiotically decided to jump in front of was laced with poison! Do. Not. Fall. Asleep.” He pressed at the wound on her shoulder and her eyes wrenched back open, pain flooding her senses and slamming adrenaline into her system.

“Fucking rude!” she yelped. 

Then, the pain was fading and a slow numbness was creeping down from her shoulder. It felt cold and soothing, and she was so tempted to just relax into it and fade away. Her head dropped and came to rest against his chest, eyelids fluttering closed again. 

“I think I just like to annoy you…” she said weakly, then gave a hiccupping sort of laugh. 

Astarion was trying to jostle her out of the daze again, only this time there was no pain and she felt too content to open her eyes as her head rested against him. 

“Eli! Eli! Shit!” He sounded so far away. So far…far…away…

“What do you call a magician who cooks?” Astarion asked, a hint of panic coiling around his words. 

From somewhere very distant, Eli remembered she hadn’t finished telling him her joke. A small laugh caught in her throat as she thought about it…but she really didn’t feel like talking right now. Gods, she wanted to sleep…

Astarion was shaking her again. “What do you call a magician who cooks! Eli!”

Fucking hell, he was loud. 

Eli groaned and tried to lift her head. Too heavy… 

…she needed to finish the joke…

“A…saucerer…” she said lamely, then laughed, head still slumped against his chest. She’d have to tell Gale…

There was some muttering, then a feeling of being lifted. The ground was gone. Her arms sagged. 

“You will not die,” she heard Astarion say from miles away. “You will not die because that was just awful, and it will not be the last thing you ever say."

Eli smiled to herself. She was hilarious…

Everything went dark.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur’s gate iii #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 headcanons #astarion #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion romance #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x mc #astarion x oc #astarion x durge #astarion x dark urge #astarion x tav

[renmackree]

Could you do nr. 5 with sterek please? I love these!

I absolutely can :3

Prompt me up!: Open

5. “Don’t you ever do that again!”

Stiles took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he toed his shoes and socks off. The fresh packed dirt was still loose from this afternoon, barely hours cold. For a moment, Stiles wondered if this was the right place, but the spiral of aconite was enough for him to confirm that this was the grave of a wolf. A stupid, self sacrificing, people pleasing wolf. He grabbed the items he needed, putting each one on the packed dirt in it's place - Urn of Osiris, Vino de Madre, black candles, and a strip of bark from the Nemeton. Slowly he placed each item in the urn and lit the black candle before setting the spiral of flowers ablaze. 

Stiles buried his toes in the dirt and began chanting the spell:

"Osiris, keeper of the gate, master of all fate, hear us. Before time and after, before knowing and nothing. Accept our of--"

"Is this really going to work?" A voice interrupted him, Stiles blinking as he turned to see Eli standing holding another candle. 

"Did Lydia scream?" Stiles asked, cocking a brow at the teenager. Eli thought for a minute and shook his head, pressing the candle a little closer to him. "Then we have a good chance if I can actually get the spell off."

Stiles cleared his throat again and lifted his hand.

"Osiris--"

"Who taught you this spell?" Eli interrupted and then closed his mouth again. Stiles could tell the boy was nervous. He had just watched his father burn to death only a night ago and no one had thought to call Stiles until Eli had tearfully called in his one favor Stiles had promised him. He really should cut the kid some slack. 

"I found it in a book a while back in the Hale Vault, apparently they had gotten it after a Hellmouth collapsed in Sunnydale." Stiles offered another weary smile. "Now, kindly shut up so I can kick your dad's ass ok?"

Eli smiled a little, nodding. 

Stiles, satisfied that the teenager wasn't going to interrupt again, began to murmur the spell.

"Osiris, keeper of the gate, master of all fate, hear us. Before time and after, before knowing and nothing Accept our offering, know our prayer. Osiris, here lies the warrior of the people, Let him cross over. Osiris, let him cross over Release him!"

Thunder boomed across the sky, the candles light flickered and were snuffed out. For a moment, nothing happened. Stiles glanced into the urn and saw the bark had been charred to a crisp, the remnants of the Nemeton were unidentifiable among the other ingredients. They waited for a minute. Two minutes. Ten minutes. Still, nothing. It should have worked! He had given everything the damn spell had asked for!

"Are you fucking happy?!" Stiles cried at the sky. "Big cosmic joke, huh? You give me stupid--" he kicked the dirt with his bare feet. "--sparks of --" he kicked again, knocking the candle over, "--magic and for what? Party tricks? Stupid mountain ash circles?" 

Stiles let out a roar of frustration, slamming his fist again into the headstone right over the words beloved Father. "You. Fucking. Asshole. Wolf. Come. Back." Stiles began to slam his fists over the words. Derek. Hale. Derek. Hale. Derek. Hale. Blood dripped from his knuckles as he shook his hands into the dirt itself, shaking his head. He grabbed the urn, picking it up and smashing it to the ground in frustration, watching as it shattered into a thousand pieces. The dirt now covered in ash, blood, and pottery.

Lightning cracked across the sky and the sound of a howl broke through in the distance as loud as the thunder. Stiles knew that howl, he'd heard that howl in his dreams. Eli and Stiles' heads whipped around, both of them scrambling towards the sound of the beast. Stiles hadn't even put his shoes back on, running through the trees towards the Preserve. Towards the Nemeton. Eli was faster, the teenager racing ahead of Stiles with earnest. Stiles pushed himself a little more until he almost ran into Eli. 

Standing on the stump was a black wolf, head pulled back as it continued to howl into the night. Stiles took a step forward, holding his hand up as the wolf's eyes met his. Bright red flashed and the wolf stepped forward. Slowly the fur melted and each step became more and more human until Derek Hale was standing in front of Stiles. Eli ran forward, almost knocking Stiles off balance and wrapped his arms tightly against Derek's waist. The wolf winced, still clearly sensitive from his departure from this world, but he wrapped his arms around Eli tightly.

"Stiles." Derek's voice sounded rough, tense like he hadn't used it for a while. Like he had swallowed ash.

Stiles took a deep breath, walking forward. Eli broke his hug, taking a step back as he watched the two. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, Stiles pulled his hand back and slammed it into Derek's face. He then grabbed the man and pressed their lips together as hard as he could, not even caring that he could taste Derek's blood on his lips from the broken nose.

"“Don’t you ever do that again!” Stiles growled loudly. 

"Die?" Derek asked in clarification, though his voice seemed bemused.

"Die, sacrifice yourself, be a martyr, burn alive -- what ever. Never again. Not without my permission. You have to ask me now. 'Stiles please can I be a fucking idiot and die for no reason?'"

Derek swallowed hard, Stiles feeling it in the hands still tightly holding the wolf's face. "Nothing without your permission."

Stiles nodded, taking another deep breath. "That's better. Now. Let's find you pants."

#welcome to the hale mouth #sterek #inbox fanfiction #did ren actually do a movie canon thing? #yes yes they did

[teabreakpancakes]

I Like You The Ripper x GN Reader

Genre: Fluff

(Name) jogged around the map of Sacred Heart Hospital, eyes roaming every inch of the map in search of someone. Instead of their item in hand, they had a letter instead.

No no, not the ones Victor would send, but an actual letter they had written themselves. They made sure than the ink wouldn't bleed through the paper, even going as far as to repeat writing and scrapping them until they were finally satisfied.

The letter was addressed to the one and only The Ripper—he may be a very scary hunter to be up against but they couldn't help but admire him.

For months, they have been concealing their feelings, desperately trying to stop liking the hunter but it proved to be futile. Hell, the one time they saw him without his mask, they couldn't stop seeing his face for weeks on end, which was rather... troublesome—especially in games.

They had ranted to Miss Geisha when she asked them about it during a match, the hunter ended up going friendly just so she and the other survivors could console them regarding the matter.

Before the match started, they asked Eli, Vera and Emma if they could perhaps throw the match since they were going to confess to Jack who would be the hunter for their match.

To their surprise, they all agreed, saying that they should've said so sooner because apparently, they've all been waiting for you to finally confess.

As embarrassing as that was, (Name) was touched.

They were snapped out of their thoughts as the beating of their heart picked up, indicating that Jack was near. They gnaw on their bottom lip, hints of their nervousness showing on their face as they wait for him to show himself.

They slowly walk towards the approaching hunter and before Jack can strike them with his foggy blades, they hold out a beautifully decorated envelope.

Jack lowers his raised hand, eyeing both the letter and the survivor in front of him. His lips part behind his mask, confusion painting his handsome features behind the mask.

He reaches out to it with his normal hand, gently taking it from the small survivor's hand. He admired how beautifully decorated the envelope was before looking back at (Name).

He studied their features carefully, noting the soft reddish pink tint covering their cheeks and the tips of their ears, how they looked away bashfully when they accidentally met his gaze. Jack paid close attention to how their wispy hair framed their face—their oh so adorable face that he wanted to see more of.

"Is this letter for me little one?" Jack asks, bowing slightly so he could watch how they'd react. They nod their head frantically, still not looking the taller man in the eye.

Jack smiles softly behind the mask, (Name) resembled a soft bunny in his eyes with how bashful they were, it was quite endearing in all honesty.

"Would you mind reading it for me then dear?" the tall man asked, slipping a finger under their chin and gently tilting their head up so they'd face him.

Jack resisted the urge to coo at them when he saw the soft tint of red on their face get brighter. (Name) finally met the handsome man's gaze, despite being covered by a mask, they could still feel how intently he gazed at them. Looking away, they nod gently, fiddling with the hem of their clothing out of habit.

Jack sits down on the nearby bench, patting his lap and urging them to come and sit on him. "B, but there's room next to you" they stammer out.

Jack chuckles, "I'd rather have you in my lap little one, I prefer being as close to you as possible while you read the letter for me" he responded with a soft yet flirty tone.

(Name) sighs in defeat, walking over to the man and sitting at the very edge of his legs. Jack let out a sigh of his own before proceeding to wrap one of his arms around their waist and pulling them closer so they'd be pressed against his chest. (Name) fights the urge to whimper due to his sudden actions, their face getting even hotter at their close proximity while Jack on the other hand is satisfied with how close they are.

"Alright then, will you finally read the letter to me? or better yet, why don't you say it to my face without having to read it" Jack whispered in their ear, enjoying the sight of them quivering because of his breath.

(Name) shuts their eyes for a bit, wanting to hype themself up before finally confessing.

They open their eyes, turning their head so they're facing Jack. "I like you... Jack," they pause, placing one of their hands on the man's shoulders, "I've liked you for almost six months. i, it's just that... I never had the courage to tell you." (Name) looks away, not wanting to face the hunter anymore.

Jack smiles, bringing his face closer to theirs and moving his mask so they'd be able to see his face. "I've liked you for quite a while too, I just thought that you wouldn't like me back" he admits before leaning in close enough so their breaths fanned each others faces.

"May I?" he asks, eyes moving to the other's lips. (Name) doesn't respond, choosing to instead close the distance. Their lips moulded together so perfectly, it felt as if they were made to be together.

(Name) puts their hands on the back of Jack's head, greedy for more of him. Jack smirked into their lips, squeezing their waist and making them let out a soft whine before plunging his tongue into the soft cavern of their mouth.

Their tongues intertwine, both not pulling away till the other needed oxygen. (Name) pants softly, still out of breath.

"You're all mine" Jack mutters into their neck, placing a chaste kiss onto their collarbone.

Meanwhile, Eli was currently relaying everything that happened to Vera and Emma.

"Jack better not corrupt them" Vera grumbles as Eli and Emma laugh at her.

"Still, Eli, how are you so composed despite seeing that?" Emma asks, tilting her head to the side

Eli looks away in the far distance, "I have seen many many unspeakable things, you get used to it" he shrugs.

#lawless.writes #idv.writing #identity v #idv scenarios #identity v x reader #idv x reader #gn reader #identityv #idv jack #idv the ripper #idv the ripper x reader #idv jack x reader #i simp a lot

[sickbaysaturdays]

The Metal Butterfly

By @solacearchiveContent 

warning for some moderate body horror/medical abuse.

Lance Corporal Flynn and Medic are ready to enjoy a well-earned day off when they are called to take care of a most unusual patient with a most unusual story to tell.

“Medic, wake up,” I said, rapping on the cabin door again. “It’s time for PT.”

No response. I rapped again. “I’m not going away.”

From inside the cabin came the sound of a person oozing out of bed along with their blankets. “Can’t we skip just one day?”

“Nope,” I replied. “You know the drill. PT, breakfast, then the morning’s yours. My function is to ensure that the first two items are accomplished in a safe and efficient manner.”

“What is it with you military types and your PT?” Medic insisted. At least I could hear water running. “I mean, I get it for you and Gunnery Sergeant Wong and everybody, but since when do I need to be able to bench press a gorilla?”

What was a gorilla? “It’s good for your health. You should know that,” I said. “Mind and body both. Plus, I do PT every morning, and I’m required to stick to you like glue, so you at least need to tag along.”

“That’s the other thing,” Medic continued, amid the sounds of drawers opening and closing. “How much longer is Commander Giroux going to keep me under supervision like this? I mean, I don’t mind your company, of course. But I did the same job for a year with no support personnel, fewer resources, and Imperial guns in my face. I think I can handle myself.”

She could handle herself medically, sure. 

I’d never seen anything to make me doubt her skills in sickbay, and neither had Lucan, the Libertad's chief medic. But she tended to crash after stressful situations, becoming shaky and staring blankly into space. 

Any time anyone tried to talk to her about it, she took it as a slight against her medical skills, and we got nowhere.

“I don’t know,” I replied. “But that’s the situation for now. How’re the PT clothes coming?”

The cabin door slid open, and Medic stood wearing PT clothes and an epic frown.

I grinned at her. “How’re you feeling about some weight training?”

Medic started to reply, but the mini-radio clipped to my waistband interrupted her.

“Lance Corporal Flynn, Staff Sergeant Blaine. Is Medic with you?”

I keyed up. “Yes, sir.” Blaine was leading the salvage team on the wrecked Imperial cruiser we found orbiting Harah’s second moon. They hadn’t needed Medic since no one could have survived that long in a depressurized ship.

“Have her meet us in sickbay; we’re about twenty minutes out. We, uh, got a patient for her.”

Medic motioned at me, and I handed her the radio. 

“Is one of the salvage team injured? What’s their condition?”

There was a pause, then, “No, not quite. Um, better just to show you.”

“Well, that’s not very descriptive,” I commented.

“At least it gets me out of lifting weights,” said Medic, reaching for her scrubs.

Eli Constanzakis was waiting for us in sickbay, which was unusual because Eli was a mechanic.

“They just said it’d be easier to show me,” he said, by way of explanation.

“Yeah, me too.”

Staff Sergeant Blaine hurried through the doors, followed by two of their specialists, each carrying one end of a portable stretcher and visibly straining under the weight. Medic motioned to the exam table in the resuscitation area, and the specialists deposited their load on top with sighs of relief.

“What the—?” Eli swore under his breath.

Medic peered at her patient, picked something up from her tray, then put it down. She turned to Blaine. “Where’d you find him?”

“One of the last pressurized compartments on the wreck. It looked like a cabin, but it was separate from crew quarters. He was unconscious when we found him, but there’s still a pulse.” They gestured at the patient on the resus table. “Didn’t know whether to call a medic or a mech, so I called both.”

Medic nodded deferentially, the way she always did around military personnel she didn’t know well. “Thank you, sir.”

“Any time.” Blaine followed their specialists out the door.

“So, what’s the plan here?” Medic stated, surveying her patient.

Usually, I stood back against the wall like a good soldier and let Medic medic, but today curiosity won out. I took a few steps forward until the supply cart wasn’t blocking my view anymore and saw what had them so bewildered. The person lying on the table in the resus area looked as much machine as person. All four limbs were cybernetic, grafted into gray flesh, and both eyes glinted the dark metallic gray of optic replacements. Wires and nodes crisscrossed his chest and neck above and below the skin. The sockets that dotted his bald head looked like the input ports in a computer.

I stepped back again.

“Well, let me get my diagnostic equipment, and you get yours,” Eli said, cracking open his toolbag. “I’ll plug his cybernetics into old reliable here, see what we can see, and you do the same with the medicine, or however that works.”

“Yes, however that works,” Medic said, trying to find a place to put her electrodes. She gave up and booted up the portable scanner.

Eli attached a few wires to the head sockets and fired up his diagnostic unit. “Oh, hello, dolly. Can’t even get this on the black market.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“BCI,” he said. “Or, BCI’s badass grandaddy. Uh, we use brain-computer interfaces for stuff like optic replacements for the blind if they want them, right? Gotta get that stuff talking to your brain somehow. Or in places that allow it, some people are straight up augmented and can talk to computers with their brains, you know?”

“I’m with you.”

“But that’s just a little chip and a few wires. This fella’s got a whole-ass motherboard grafted right into his gray matter. Goes into the spine, too—hey, Medic, look at this.”

Staring at the display on her portable scanner, Medic whispered, “I see it. Question is, does the problem lie with the hardware, the software, or the human-ware?”

“If the commander’ll let me, I can use the deep-space radio to call some cybernetics people. They might be able to help.”

Medic furrowed her brow. “It might be something a little more mundane than that. Look at this.” She pointed to a white circle on the scanner display. “See, right where the arm meets the shoulder, the skin’s inflamed. I bet the organic parts of him are half septic. I’m going to drain the abscess and try to infuse antibiotics and fluids, and we’ll see if that helps.”

“Here, looks like you can get IV access on this bioplastic thing in his chest. Handy.”

Medic shook her head angrily. “There’s no way this being done to a person is legal or ethical. Lance Corporal, when we’re done, would you call Attorney Kane? I believe this is something she’d be interested in.”

I nodded. “Okay.” I almost said yes, sir, but the last time I’d said that, Medic had freaked out and apologized for being too demanding, and it had taken a minute to convince her I wasn’t mad. Even though, technically, she had the authority to give me orders on medical matters.

For the next hour, Medic and Eli worked on the machine-man. Medic made an incision near his shoulder and drained what looked like a liter of nasty-looking pus. He barely moved. Eli hooked him up to his diagnostic unit and an external DC power source, reasoning that “maybe the kid’s just low on juice.”

The cybernetics expert that Eli managed to get on the line talked them through some repairs, but even she was improvising. Their patient’s cybernetics were beyond anything people in the Allied worlds were even blueprinting.

“Must violate about every human rights convention on cybernetics,” I heard her say.

Well, we had someone for that, at least.

After over an hour of medicine and tinkering, I heard Medic say, “I think he’s waking up.”

A second later, she shrieked and jumped back, knocking an instrument tray over with a clatter. Her patient’s metal arm swung out, missing her by a hair. 

I stepped forward, hand on my sidearm.

“Don’t hurt him,” called Medic.

“Whoa, buddy, we’re not here to hurt you,” Eli said, holding his hands out in a calming gesture. “Just take it easy, okay?”

The arm kept swinging, and Eli stumbled back, abandoning his diagnostic unit.

“Can you speak?” Medic asked. “Please, we can help you.”

There was no response from the patient, but Eli’s diagnostic unit buzzed from its spot on the floor.

“Huh,” Eli said, glancing at the screen. 

Instead of diagnostic codes, the screen read, please stop I hurt where am I where are they please please please no more.

Medic bit her lip. “I can give you something for the pain. I can make it go away, all of it. Do you have any drug allergies?”

The diagnostic unit’s screen filled up with the word penicillin over and over again.

“Okay,” said Medic. “No penicillin, just the good stuff. Let me know when the hurt is gone, okay?”

She read the name and amount of the medication off the vial’s label and pulled a generous amount into a syringe.

She turned to her patient. “I need you to keep your arm still while I dose you. Please don’t hit me.”

The arm slowed, then settled by the metal-boy’s side, twitching and spasming. Medic cautiously reached for the IV line plugged into her patient’s chest and pushed her drug.

“Let me know when you start to feel it,” she told him. Eli kept an eye on the diagnostic unit.

The patient’s arm stopped twitching by his side. Eli flashed a thumbs-up and held up the diagnostic unit.  Warm now it’s gone, the screen read.

“Good, good,” Medic said. “Now, can you tell us how to fix you?”

In the end, there was only so much that could be done. The human parts were battling a serious infection from an improperly grafted node. Several cybernetic components had been damaged and would need to be removed or replaced. When Eli and Medic were done, he could move all four limbs, see from one cyber-eye, and hear from both aural inputs. The pain was down to an acceptable level, and he could speak.

“So, what’s your name?” I asked. Medic, being from Kumitan, often forgot to ask.

“They called me Twelve,” he said.

“What do you call you?” I asked.

He paused and glanced sideways at Medic, typing a chart, and Eli, coiling up his gator cables. Then he looked back at me. “I call myself Orren,” he said.

“Good to meet you, Orren,” I said. “I’m Lance Corporal Flynn. You’re on an Alliance patrol ship. That’s Medic, and the mech’s Eli.”

“Hey-o,” said Eli, giving a little wave. “Neat trick with the diagnostic unit, by the way. Clever.”

“I reached out through the wires,” said Orren. “I screamed so loudly. I didn’t think anyone would hear.”

“We heard,” said Medic. “How’s the pain, one to ten?”

Orren thought for a minute. “Three,” he said. “It’s mostly my spinal processors. I’m not sure they were installed properly.”

“Definitely not,” said Medic. She pulled up a scan. “See, these look like they’re supposed to be grafted onto nerve tissue, but the grafts aren’t taking. I’d remove them, but I’m not a spinal surgeon or a cybernetician. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Who did all this to you anyway?” Eli asked. 

“Half this stuff’s illegal, and the other half’s so advanced we’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Experimental Military Research department,” said Orren. 

“They recruited me after the military rejected me. They said I could still be a part of the glory of the Imperium. I wish I’d said no.”

“Probably wouldn’t have mattered,” Medic muttered.

“Would you be willing to give a statement about what happened to you?” I asked. “We have an attorney from Intersystem Human Rights Court with us. She’s helping document everything the Imperium has done to people like you.”

“All I have to do is say what happened?” Orren asked.

“Yup,” I said. “Done it a couple times myself, as a witness. It’s not scary, just talking into a recorder. She’ll ask a question here and there. Honestly, it’s always made me feel better, the times I’ve done it.”

“Very well,” Orren agreed. “I will speak to this person.”

“Cybernetics violations?” Madalyn Kane asked. 

She, Medic, Eli, and I were standing in the hallway outside sickbay. “That’s new. Are you sure?”

“Well, it doesn’t sound like they had his full informed consent,” Medic said. “That’s a big one.”

“What are the cybernetic conventions again?” Eli asked. “Sorry, been a little busy fixing the aircon to be reading up on intersystem law.”

“There are four of them,” Madalyn recited. “The first convention, like Medic said, is consent. No one can be modified or augmented without their freely given informed consent, except in a life-threatening situation where no other effective treatments are available.”

Eli nodded. “Makes sense.”

“The second states—goodness, this is giving me law school flashbacks—states that no one may be compensated for or coerced into receiving them. They cannot be a condition of education or employment. Discrimination in favor of or against the modified and augmented is forbidden, and any society that makes modifications and augments available must also have the equivalent in disability access to public life.”

“Huh?” Eli asked.

“If you offer optic replacements, you also have to offer tactile walkways and Braille computers,” Medic explained. “They don’t want people to feel like they need to get cybernetics because it’s the only way to participate in society.”

“Makes sense,” Eli said.

“The third convention is open access,” Madalyn continued. “No modifications or augments can be proprietary technology. All replacement parts must be universal. Technical specifications and repair manuals must be freely available to people receiving modifications and augments.

"The fourth convention states that modifications and augments are only to be used for medical and scientific purposes. Human beings are not, through modification or augmentation, to be turned into weapons of war.”

We were silent for a second.

“Do you think that’s what they were doing?” Eli wondered aloud.

“It’s the Imperials,” Medic muttered. “What else?”

“Well, then,” Madalyn said, smoothing the front of her blouse. “Let’s get this young man’s statement and we’ll see, won’t we?”

Affidavit 33532 Name: OrrenRecorded by Atty M. Kane

You may begin.

I grew up on Caldros, one of the older manufacturing space habitats in the Imperial Core. My family and I were good citizens. My father was a neighborhood watch captain, and my mother was part of the Women’s Citizens Alliance. All my older siblings joined the Junior Imperial Guard in secondary school. 

I would have joined too, but I didn’t pass the physical tests. I passed the knowledge exam, but the Imperium wants your body, not your mind. My father and teachers were furious, until a doctor finally realized I had Waller-Kates disease. I’d likely had it all my life, but it took until I was fourteen for the levels of malformed blood cells to reach critical levels.

I spent the next few years in bed, mostly. I was told there were drugs that could help, but the war effort needed them more than I did. I tried my hardest to be strong, I did, but my body would betray me. Some days I could hardly walk across the house without losing my breath and becoming unbearably fatigued.

This angered my father. He believed that if I fought hard enough, I could defeat the blood disease through force of will alone. I only wish it were that easy.

My application to the military was denied, of course; they have access to everyone’s medical files. I don’t know why I applied in the first place; even if some overworked clerk sent me call-up orders by mistake, there’s no way I’d have made it through training when I could barely make it to the corner grocery and back. 

Then I received a private message, not an easy thing to arrange in the Core. It was from a Dr. Fredrick Gatwin, and it had a military signature. He said he was from a special division, and needed me for some cybernetics research he was doing. He promised me medical care for my Waller-Kates and a ticket away from a home that had become more like a prison over the last four years. So I said yes. I didn’t ask questions. I should have asked—

Recording resumes.

I’d never been away from home before. The transport took me to a warship occupying a remote system. Dr. Gatwin seemed so happy to have me on board. He said that with his help, I could be the best soldier the Imperium has ever seen.  

I was just as excited; here I was, on an Imperial warship, exactly where every boy dreams of going. I didn’t ask why I was being housed separately from the crew.

Dr. Gatwin started giving me infusions of S-33, the Waller-Kates drug I couldn’t get back home. He said it would be good to put an IV port in my chest, so that his nurse wouldn’t have to stick me every time.

I thought it would just be a little medication port like I’d seen in the medical shows. But when I woke up, I had this big, ugly bioplastic thing sticking out of me. 

I wanted to cry every time I had to change my shirt. I didn’t tell Dr. Gatwin, though. I didn’t want him to think I was weak like my father did.

The excitement of being on a warship wore off very quickly after that. My days were long and lonely. I wasn’t allowed into most of the crew areas like the mess hall and the rec area. Dr. Gatwin’s research assistants—I never learned their names; they came and went—didn’t speak to me unless they had to. Some days I fantasized about wandering into a crowded hallway and screaming as loudly as I could. 

But I wouldn’t dare.

One crew member was kind to me, though. Sergeant Tillery—I never knew her first name. She cornered me in the hall one day and invited me to the shooting range after hours. She said if I was going to be on a warship, I should learn to shoot a laser rifle. We met every week, Wednesdays at seven.

Dr. Gatwin started replacing the rest of me. Sometimes it was necessary. Waller-Kates can put you at risk for clots in your legs, and cybernetic legs will never have that problem. Other times …

The optic replacements let me see in infrared and ultraviolet, and with greater acuity than any human. I’ll never need glasses or laser surgery. I miss my eyes, though. They were brown, I think, very dark brown like polished wood.

Sergeant Tillery always met me at the range. She never said anything if I missed a week and then came back the next with more tech in me. She even showed me different ways to grip and aim that would take the pressure off the healing surgical sites.

I think I stopped thinking of myself as a person when they turned on the neural tech. My hair never grew back after that operation. Once I had healed and the grafts took, they switched it on and, well, it’s hard to describe.  

The first thing I noticed was that I don’t have to sleep anymore. I miss that, especially dreaming. On the other hand, I’m never fatigued anymore, when once I was nothing but. I can talk to a computer with a hardline or wirelessly if I have the codes. And the way I think is more ordered, like I have administrator access to my own mind.

Still, the more new things they added, the more old thing broke. Dr. Gatwin went through three generations of spinal processors before he found ones that wouldn’t short. I would randomly lose control of a hand or a whole leg, or have a seizure when the connections overloaded. The pain … I asked if there was a way to turn off pain perception. Dr. Gatwin said he was working on it. The perfect soldier wouldn’t feel pain.

A short time later, we were ambushed by Alliance forces seeking to liberate the system we occupied. We took heavy damage and casualties. I followed Sergeant Tillery’s transponder  until it went silent after a cannon salvo.

I was injured, but the hallways to sickbay and Dr. Gatwin’s lab were both decompressed. I took shelter in my cabin and sealed the doors. And when the crew abandoned ship, no one took me along. I was only a science experiment, and probably a failed one. 

Twelve, the lab assistants called me. I wonder who the other eleven were. I am better off not knowing. As long as there is no thirteen.

The cabin was so cold that ice crystals formed on my metal parts. I couldn’t sense the ship’s computer anymore. My body doesn’t need very much oxygen, so I knew it would take a long time for the air to run out. I tried to access any nearby computers, but there were none, not even a transponder. Outside of my cabin was decompressed. 

In the end, I couldn’t think of a way out. I pulled as many happy memories as I could find from my brain and hard drives—rifle practice with Sergeant Tillery, family dinners back home, Imperial Pride rallies with all my best friends and onion bread and soft drinks after. Not much of a life, all in all, but mine.

And just when I thought I’d made my peace, I woke up in your sickbay, and I did not know I was safe. I hope you’ll forgive me.

Thank you, Mr. Orren. 

I will probably have some follow-up questions for you soon. If you intend to seek asylum on humanitarian grounds, the Alliance will certainly grant it. 

Recording ends.

“What will happen to me?” Orren asked. 

Madalyn had left with her briefcase to file an asylum petition, and Eli had gone to fix someone’s heater.  It was just him, Medic, and me.

“You’re going to need specialist care,” Medic said. “I’ve got some calls out to university hospitals to try and get you a bed. They can take your spinal processors out safely, clean up the infected shoulder joint, get you sorted out in the long run. They can even do stuff like—well, you mentioned you liked your old eye color?”

“Dark brown.”

“There are optic replacements that mimic the colors of organic eyes. They’re more basic, but the colors are customizable. My dad had one after he lost an eye in an accident.”

“I don’t know,” said Orren.

“You don’t have to decide right away,” I told him. “It’s a lot. Just take some time and think about what you want.”

Orren frowned thoughtfully. “What I want. I will think about that. Lance Corporal Flynn, I am curious.”

“About?”

“Cybernetics are seldom used in the Imperium except on soldiers wounded in combat. Are there others like me on Alliance worlds?”

“Not with quite as many cybernetic parts as you, but yeah, a bunch,” I said. “Just growing up in a small town, I knew a bunch of people who had cybernetics. Eyes and legs mostly. My homeroom teacher one year had a cybernetic heart. Oh, and one of my sisters has one of those—Medic, what’s it called, the spider, for epilepsy?” I tapped the side of my head where Kava’s implant had sat on her skull.

“Implantable neuro-anticonvulsant,” Medic supplied. “I-NAC. It does kind of look like a spider.”

“Brought her from ten seizures a day to maybe two a year. Her hair grew over it, though,” I added. “Most people never noticed she had it.”

“Interesting,” Orren murmured. After a moment, he turned to Medic. “I have thought about what I want. I now know one thing that I would like very much.”

“What’s that?”

“Can you make my hair grow again?”

Medic grinned. “Absolutely.”

#thank you!!' #submission #ss androids #fiction #writing

[suvidrache]

how long?

age in bio when interacting. minors do not interact.

Word Count: 500 | Read it on AO3 | masterlist

Summary: a vacation with shintarō.

Before the hot weather could come. Shintarō decided to plan a trip with you. You agreed, and you both packed everything that was needed. Shintarō double-checked to make sure all that was needed was packed up. Nothing was left behind or forgotten, including his lucky item(s). Although he was an adult, his lucky items were something he still carried with him. As well as his obsession with horoscopes, etc.

You laid in the hotel bed; the sun peeking through the closed curtains. Shintarō laid in front of you. Your arm was around him, and he held you close. He was still asleep when his eyes opened up.

"Y/N, how long have you been watching me?"

"Not long. I just woke up. Good morning." You said, smiling as you snuggled closer to him.

"Good morning." He said, breathing in and holding you tighter.

You moved to look at him once again, and your lips met his. He kissed you back and placed a hand gently on your cheek. You started to move to be more comfortable when his cheeks turned red. He wasn't sure where this was going, but he wouldn't mind either way. When you pulled away, his cheeks were still pink.

"Shin, your cheeks are red." You teased, and he looked away while blushing deeper.

"No, they're not…" He said quietly.

"What are you thinking about?"

He hesitated before finally answering. "You."

You kissed his cheek and whispered against his neck.

"Do you want to take things further?"

He bit his lip before replying. "Yes."

You moved so your legs rested on either side of him. Your hand slowly traveled up his body, stopping at his chest. Before moving down, your hand slid into his boxers, your hand wrapped around his hardened length. He let out a moan, and you slowly began stroking him up and down. His left hand grabbed your thigh, his fingers taped as he always had them. His right hand moved to rub/stroke you. You let out a small moan as you continued, going harder and faster as time went on. His tip began to leak pre-cum, and you couldn't help but cum as well.

You tried to breathe slowly as your eyes met his. His cheeks were still light with blush.

"Are you ready?" You asked him.

"Yes, are you?"

"Yes."

You aligned him with your hole and slid him into you. You both let out a moan, and you waited a moment. Both his hands grasped your hips and slowly you began to move up and down. You slowly began to pick up the pace, and he thrust his hips up into you and you let out a moan. His hands were still firmly grasping your hips, helping you to move if you were to grow tired. His moans were louder than yours, at times, and he couldn't help but blush as you continued to go down on him. You continued until he came, and you came not long after.

© SUVIDRACHE — do not copy, translate, modify, or plagiarize my work. reblogs are appreciated!

Tag List: @eli-chris, @kingdom-of-loango / Join my tag list here!

#midorima shintarou #shintaro midorima #midorima x reader #midorima shintaro x reader #midorima smut #summer nights event #knb midorima #knb scenarios #knb smut #knb imagines #knb headcanons #knb hcs #kuroko no basket headcanons #kuroko no basket x reader #kuroko no basket imagines #kuroko no basket scenarios #kuroko no basket smut

[can-i-write-well-yet]

The Truth About Your Heart P2

P1/P2

Part two here we go! I had most of this written out when I put part one out, but thought it needed just a little more before posting it, so it got saved to drafts where I thought I'd work on it later, and then i had to get ready for a trip to visit my parents and my SIL's chiropractor F'd up her back and I had a frightening couple of days where i thought i might've had a malicious cyst and well...

It's later now I guess...

Anyways~ To Part TWO!!

Chapter Two.

King was face to face with Ban, and he hadn’t seen the Fox Sin of Greed this pissed since fighting the literal king of demons, even then it was never aimed anywhere near King so having it happen now was unsettling to say the least.

“Why King? Why the fuck is Captain asking for the kids to join us? He’s never asked before.” He started to pace around the room, picking up bags and various items while talking, “This has something to do with that prophecy the old man spat out doesn’t it? It already involves one of my kids, is he trying to drag one of the other two into it?” 

“Ban.” King grabbed his brother-in-law's arm to turn him to look at him, “Calm down, lest you forget that you’re not the only person with a child of prophecy.” King took a breath before continuing, “And you said yourself, this might not be anything more than the Captain being bored and wanting to see us. I know you’re worried but accusing the Captain of foul play when he has no control over it won’t help anyone.”

Ban looked back at his old friend, his brother now, and closed his eyes, slumping into a chair and placing his face into his hands.

“I know,” He spoke softly, “I know it won’t, but I can’t do this King. I can’t live with this fear of my kids being sucked into a fucking apocalypse, I don’t know whether I want to be dead before we figure them all out or just know and have it be over with.”

King nodded solemnly, when Bartra invited all the sins to meet, they never expected to be given a vision of those Four Knights, who would either stop the apocalypse, or be its cause.

When Gowther used his magic to share what exactly Bartra was seeing. That was his first mistake.

King saw Meliodas fall, just for a moment, as if the shock had taken away all his strength. King would’ve fallen too if he saw his own son in that vision.

Seeing Tristan, an adult Tristan, shocked all of them to say the least, King could only imagine what was going through his Captain's mind. And either Meliodas had purposely shut King out or his mind simply went blank from fear, but King couldn’t read his heart. All he could feel was bone deep fear emanating from his once fearless Captain.

He was just glad that Elizabeth hadn’t been with them, he didn't think he would’ve been able to stand hearing her heart, which had always been a painfully open book. 

Tristan was the Third of the children of the Seven Deadly Sins, with King's own son being born right after his and Diane’s wedding, and King's nephew (Lancelot, the poor lost boy, his first nephew, who he was afraid might’ve been his last) beating Tristan by just one month.

King was close with all of the children, he never expected to have such a natural talent for child rearing but he was glad he did, whenever the girls would need a day off and the boys would take the kids, Mel and Ban would always be rushing to King for advice, which was new.

‘How do I heat the milk up? How hot does it need to be? What if I burn him!?’ 

“Just warm it up a little, it doesn’t need to be hot, it just needs to not be cold.” 

‘I’ve tried bouncing him and feeding him and changing him but he’s still crying! Does he hate me!? What do I do!?’

“He doesn’t hate you Ban, he just needs his chewie, he’s teething and his teeth probably hurt a little.”

‘King, what's a Binkie? Eli left me a note saying Tristan needed it for sleep but I don’t know what it is!’

“Probably a blanket, didn’t he used to drag around that old purple one Lady Veronica made for him everywhere? It’s most likely that one.”

‘King I will pay you whatever you want if you’ll give them pillow rides.. Please, that's all he wants to do and he says he won’t breathe until he can.’

King was proud to be the one who knew what he was doing while the others were standing around clueless for once in his life. So he never complained whenever he would be given the kids to watch, he loved being with them, Lance was the calmest child he had ever met and would spend most of his time following around King’s children to ask them to play, and Tristan was just in awe of most things King did, and would ask him to tell him stories while sitting on Chastiefol.

King adored Tristan for who he was and what he represented, Peace. Finally after 3000 years, a child of Meliodas and Elizabeth was born, they had waited so long for a child but never risked it before their curses were broken.

Seeing Tristan in that vision, with cold eyes and a war-torn look on his face, covered in heavy armor and riding upon a white horse shocked them all to their very core. They had never thought their kids would be dragged into war, not after all they had done to stop the last one, they had worked so hard for peace. 

They knew something was wrong, after what happened to Lancelot they were all on guard, but they thought after they found him it would be done. 

‘Five years isn’t that long’ they all had thought, ‘Surely after we find him and fix this we can all go back to living peacefully.’ 

Seeing Tristan had painfully reminded them all that while five years isn’t that long for them, five years was a third of their children’s lives. They’ve barely lived a decade and are already being thrown into war.

Yes, they were all distraught by seeing the young prince as the Knight in that vision but nothing could’ve prepared them for the knight that came next.

Ban hadn’t said anything when he saw the adult Lancelot standing there, he hadn’t said anything or moved at all, looking back, King realized that was probably due to the fact that he couldn’t breath. 

To have not seen his first born for so long and then seeing him grown up in a prophetic vision warning them of the apocalypse? That must’ve hit hard, it apparently hit Gowther hard enough to have him make his second mistake, accidentally knocking them all unconscious. 

It was dawn when they had gathered and midnight when they all awoke. 

Gowther apologized profusely and tried to get the rest of the vision, but Batra’s mind was old, and his memory was shaky at best. He remembered that the other two knights would have Golden Magic, and Verdant, Wing-like hair.

The knight with the hair would be rather easy to spot, so they all quickly gathered that he must be out in the world somewhere, and wasn’t any of their children.

But the knight with Golden Magic could still be one of theirs. 

King knew that Ban would be upset by the summoning, but he still wasn’t prepared for the rage and fear he felt from his brother-in-law's heart. 

“I’m gonna go make sure everyone’s ready, calm your heart before coming out please? Everything will be fine, and I don’t want Deidrick or Ellie to pick up on anything.”

“Yeah yeah, I got it. Just go, I'll be out in a bit.”

As King left he spared one last look to the Fox Sin before leaving.

Ban was now left with nothing but his thoughts. And that was never fun. For anyone but especially not him.

This prophecy business was irking him, that fact that three knights were unaccounted for was problematic, the fact that they only knew who two of them even were wasn’t great either, and the fact that they only had one defining trait for each of the unknown two was fucking irritating. 

They could literally be anywhere and anyone. The green hair wasn’t that bad because they could be easily identified. But the Golden Magic? Any child that hadn’t yet developed magic became a candidate. And since a large amount of the children he knew were still young, it was concerning, to say the least.

Ban was particularly concerned as neither of his youngest children had developed any innate magical abilities yet.

His daughter could float slightly and was growing healthily, Elaine’s best guess was that would likely inherit her magic, so he was less concerned about her.

But his second son, Gustav. That child worried Ban.

Gustav hadn’t displayed any magical abilities at all, and when Ban had asked around, none of his friends or acquaintances had sensed any innate magical ability within the boy.

Ban should feel relieved, but he wasn’t.

Despite most people believing that Ban was “A brute who couldn’t appreciate a good book if he was beaten to death with it, in fact they weren’t sure he could read at all”, (These were Gowther’s words to Ban after The Fox Sin had spilled Ale on Gowther’s Brand new Book, ‘A Week Spent With Fredrick’. Ban had apologized but Gowther was still bitter for about a month afterwards) Ban read quite a bit. 

He had read about heroes who were a part of prophecies, and “The child without magic suddenly gains powerful magic and becomes a tragic hero” was a frighteningly common troupe.

So every day his son walked around with no magic, Ban would pray the child stayed that way.

The fact that the hero in the stories would always be from a long line of heroes or had some sort of tragic backstory, that only made Ban worry that much more, because he had adopted Gustav when the boy was seven. 

And seven years is a lot of time unaccounted for.

Lancelot had been missing for two years when Ban made that journey to the edge of Benwick. It was a cold rainy night, in the middle of December. Elaine was waiting at home, heavily pregnant with their second child, and he had been extra paranoid since she was so close to her due date, and the rainstorms had started.

They had been tracking the weather like madmen ever since Lance and Jericho had disappeared that night, at this point Ban could feel the storm's arrival in his bones.

Even so, Ban couldn’t take any chances, so he was determined to do one quick check before heading back to his wife.

He was just about done when he heard it, a small cry of a child, how he had managed to hear it, let alone realize what it was through the tumultuous rain he didn’t know. But he hoped upon hope that maybe that cry belonged to Lance, that after two years his son had finally returned.

He dashed across the field to the middle of the valley in front of Benwick, calling out for someone to hear, he could barely see through the rain, he was soaked from head to toe. 

He searched and listened but could hear nothing, see nothing. 

He was almost convinced he had some sort of auditory hallucination when he heard it again, louder this time. 

He pinpointed the sound coming from the stone near to where he and Jericho had last talked about the disappearances.

As he made his way there his hopes soared, finally, maybe he had found him. His son, his Lancelot.

His hopes were dashed almost as quickly as they had built. As he was ten feet away, there was a child there, behind the stone, but this child was just that, a child.

Lance would’ve been thirteen by now, and much larger. 

As his hopes faded away into a despairing thought that he may never see his child again, his thoughts quickly turned to panic when he got closer and saw the child there, soaked worse then even Ban was, and the worst of it was the child wasn’t shivering. 

Now Ban’s not the smartest but he knows that being that wet and cold your body should be moving trying to warm you up, that’s what the shivering was, the fact that the child wasn’t moving was more than concerning.

Ban began to walk to the child, ‘He has to be alive,’ Thought Ban as he approached, ‘He had called out to me, and I came here so fast, he couldn’t have died that quick.’

He put his hand on the kid's shoulder, slowly so as to not frighten him. The shoulder was as cold as he expected, when he turned the child’s body towards him, he nearly had a heart attack at what he saw.

Sunken in cheeks, and his frame was slim, too slim for a child, he had pale skin that stood out, even in the dead of night, Ban couldn’t even tell if the poor child was breathing or not. 

Throwing caution to wind, he picked up the kid into his arms and removed the ripped, faded, useless, blue shirt to put his ear to the boy’s chest.

He had seen something like this before, a child that was cold, slim, and pale, (His sister had looked like this before she died) and he knew that no child could’ve survived a night like this all by themselves. 

He knew that most likely what he heard was either the poor child's last hurrah, or the wind playing tricks on his mind. but still he hugged the cold child closer to his ear, hoping against all he knew.

‘Let me be wrong,’ He prayed, ‘Just this once, please let me be wrong.’

And for the first time in his life, it seemed God was on his side, for he heard it, the soft ‘bump-bump-bump’.

It came from the boy’s chest, and Ban swore he had never heard a sweeter sound in his life. He took off his jacket and wrapped it around the boy before taking off into the night, making a beeline for his home. 

That night had been one of the most frightening, heartstopping, painstakingly slow nights of his life. He had brought the child home in a panic, holding him as close as physically possible, trying to warm him up.

Bursting into his home he had called out for Elaine, when she saw what he was carrying she immediately got to work, drawing a warm bath and breaking the emergency spell bead that had originally gotten as a way to summon Elizabeth to help with the birth.

To say Elizabeth was confused was an understatement, seeing as Elaine was still two months away from her due date. But she had quickly gathered what was going on and had chased Elaine and Ban from the washroom to focus on the poor boy.

Elaine and Ban had waited the whole night in the living room, waiting.

Elaine had fallen asleep two hours in, but Ban didn’t sleep that night, couldn’t sleep, not until he knew the boy would make it.

At midnight Elizabeth had come back down to them, looking as exhausted as Ban felt, and had told him that she had done all she could, and that the rest would be up to the boy.

She had offered to take Elaine to lay down while he watched over the boy, he had thanked her profusely for that.

He walked into the room with deep fear in his heart, as he saw the child lying there he had two conflicting emotions trying to settle within him.

One was a bleeding worry.

The child looked two steps from death’s door. Their breathing was erratic and heavy, interrupted with horrid coughs, their face was flushed a bright red, and he swore he could see tears leaking from the squeezed shut eyes. He was adrift with concern that the child might not make it through the night. He couldn’t take it, this child had barely lived. How old were they? They looked to be about five, but they were so thin, were they that small or starving? He didn’t know their age, he didn’t even know their name, he didn’t want to carve out a blank gravestone Goddamnit.

The second emotion was a deep, warm, fondness. 

He looked at this child, so small, and saw his tiny eyebrows furrowed in anger, as if they were fighting against their sickness with all their tiny might. He looked at their small hands, clutching the blankets so tight they turned red, so small and so strong. He pushed back their bangs that were sticking to their head with sweat, he briefly wondered what color his hair would be when they got it cleaned? He had known this child for less then a day but he knew that he would protect him with his dying breath.

He had picked up a storybook Gowther had gifted him for Lance, deciding to read to the boy. As he read the book he could hear the boys breathing starting to settle into even breaths, no longer wracked with coughing. 

When he finished the seventh story, a tale of two parents and their baby being saved by a ghostly warrior, the sun had begun to rise out the window, shining onto the small boy. That was when he heard it.

“P-please…” The child had spoken, Ban had barely heard it.

He got closer to the child, brushing his hair back and asking what he needed, water? Food? Was he cold?

The boy had furrowed his brows as he struggled to respond, but had managed to utter softly,

“Please… turn the stupid sun off… it’s hurting my eyes.” 

Ban had never cried so happily in years.

The boy had taken months to fully recover, (He still had breathing problems to this day) but had been quickly inducted into Ban’s family. He couldn’t remember who he was, or where he came from. The last thing he remembered was walking through the rain looking for shelter, and calling out for help before collapsing, he didn’t know how far he had walked. He couldn’t remember what his name was either, so Ban and Elaine had decided to just call him their Boyo, just in case he remembered.

When Beru was born the boy had been quick to help wherever he could, making sure Elaine could rest comfortably and cleaning up around the house so it was easier. Elaine still recounts how helpful he had been to this day.

There was this moment, about four months after Beru had been born, when she was trying to roll onto her stomach while lying down on the bed, and she had somehow managed to wiggle her way out of her blanket pile and scoot near the edge of the bed without attracting Ban or Elaine’s notice, but she hadn’t escaped the boy’s.

She had nearly rolled herself off the bed but the boy had flung himself towards her and had caught her at the last moment, Elaine and Ban had rushed to the both of them to find their Boyo red faced, chastising the small baby about how she should’ve stayed in her blanket pile and had no reason to throw herself off the bed.

Beru just giggled, having no idea what the boy was saying but seemingly amused by him all the same. The boy wasn’t as amused but still carried her to Elaine, Beru still overcome with giggles.

Watching the scene, Ban had been reminded of something, a long memory buried deep back in his mind, of the only time he had ever seen Jericho’s older brother talk to her.

He had gone to check on her, mostly because he was told by Merlin to double check that he had actually fully removed the demon seed from her, but partly because he had felt slightly guilty for unintentionally driving her to become a demon host by purposely humiliating her at the prison, but you’d never hear him admit that outloud.

When he had finally found her, she was already in a heated discussion with someone else, her older brother.

He was apparently chastising her for ‘running herself ragged’ to which she countered with ‘walking down the street to get something to eat wasn’t running herself ragged, she was just bored for God’s sake!’ to which he then responded with ‘It’s running yourself ragged when we literally have people we pay to do that so you can rest you incorrigible dumbass! You had a DEMON residing in your body feasting on your emotions for months! AND YOU CAN’T REST FOR A WEEK!?’

His entire face had gone bright red with anger at his sister’s nonchalance for her own health, which she had apparently found hilarious because she had started laughing hysterically. 

Her brother wasn’t as amused but he helped her back to her feet and they started the other way, Jericho laughing the whole way.

Ban stared at the children in front of him as he was reminded of that day, the only clear memory he had of his foster sister and her real brother, and remembered his name.

“Gustav.”

“Yeah Dad?” The boy had responded. 

That one response had shocked both of the boys in the room into silence, the only thing anyone could hear was Beru, still giggling.

After trying to coax the boy out from under the bed, where he had hid in embarrassment, Ban had decided to talk with him about how he would adore if the boy wanted to call him Dad, and had asked why he had responded to the name. 

“It felt right? I don’t know, you said it and it sounded like you were talking to me, sorry.”

“Kid, you don’t have to apologize, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Ban was lying down next to the bed on the floor on his back, talking to the child as he rested his small chin on his crossed arms.

“Does someone else already have it?” The child questioned.

“Have what?”

“The name, you said it. Does someone else have it or did you make it up? Like you did with Master Hawk?”

Ban fixed the boy with a slightly annoyed look, “Number one, Master Hawk is very real-” The boy fixed him with an equally annoyed look and scoffed slightly, “AND, no. I didn’t make it up, he was my-” He cut himself off there, were he and Gustav anything?

Jericho was Ban’s sister, and he was her Brother, you could pry that title from his cold dead hands, but he and Gustav were never close, had they ever even spoken to each other? Or was Ban just a stranger that had known Gustav’s sister and attened his funeral?

“He was your what?” The boy had scooted slightly out from under the bed, enough to lay his upper body on Ban’s chest to look him in the eye. And as Ban looked at the boy, he decided that he had already claimed Jericho, he was sure Gustav wouldn't mind if Ban decided to claim him too.

“He was my little brother, his name was Gustav, and he was an annoying older brother, seeing you nag Beru reminded me of him.” 

The boy puffed his cheeks out in anger, “I wasn’t nagging!”He said fervently, ”She needed to know she can’t just roll herself off of places like that! She could get hurt!”

“She’s like three months old.” 

“If you treat her like a baby she’ll never grow up! You gotta talk grown up like and then she’ll copy you! And besides, I know she knows better, you can tell from her eyes.”

“See? Naggy~♪” 

The boy had then smacked Ban on the head before fully laying down on top of him.

“If he’s your younger brother, how could he nag like an older brother?”

“... He didn’t nag me, just our younge-” He choked up a bit at this point, he hadn’t really talked about Jericho since she and Lance had disappeared, he cleared his throat before continuing, “Our younger sister, Jericho…”

“Oh… D-do… Do you think he’d be… Okay with it?”

“Okay with what?”

The boy had curled up into the crook of Ban’s arm, he did that often, whenever he was unsure of things and needed comfort. 

“With me using his name? Will it get confusing? Would he be mad?”

“No buddy, I think he’d like it. I think he’d like it a lot.”

“Okay… Then I’ll use it good, so he’s happy, I’ll grow up big and strong, so his name gets a good story.”

Ban broke into a wide grin at that, “Sounds like a great idea~♪, Super smart like.”

“Thanks… Dad.”

Ban was glad the boy had curled himself into his arm, he didn’t like letting kids see him cry.

“No problem… Gustav.”

#nanatsu no taizai #seven deadly sins #four knights of the apocalypse #4kota #elaine nnt #nnt ban #nnt King #nnt hawk #nnt harlequin #Harlequin #nnt jericho #nnt elizabeth #Ban #Jericho #Elizabeth #Deidrick #Elli #Oc's galore! #Lancelot 4kota #lancelot #once again #really wish someone else could write this #because I would love to read it #and I love writing it! #It's just that I was supposed to be in bed like four hours ago #Beru #fanfic #the four knights of the apocalypse #rip to my fucking eyes #god im tired

[nightsidewrestling]

D.U.D.E Part 12 - Unpretty (Set in 2020)

Note: This is set in a universe where Men VS Women / Intergender matches can happen.

Chapter 1: here Chapter 2: here Chapter 3: here Chapter 4: here Chapter 5: here Chapter 6: here Chapter 7: here Chapter 8: here Chapter 9: here Chapter 10: here Chapter 11: here

Tags: @piratewithvigor @tantamount-treason @thedollmaker16 @janetreader

Around 2000 Words. 18+ in places (those chapters will be marked as 'Mature / sexual content' just to be safe). Please inform me if you wish to be tagged or untagged from posts. If the text is in italics and orange it's Kirby's inner monologue. If the text is coloured but not in italics, it's either dialogue or a P.O.V change (P.O.V changes will be in bold and translated dialogue will appear in square [ ] brackets), Key below. Quick note on Geia's text colour: Yes I do know that as Greed she should be in yellow but I decided to colour the men's dialogue yellow so Geia was changed to be pink like the other women in the story outside of the main 8.

The Main 8: Damo - Bio. Vi - Bio. Billie - Bio. Geia - Bio. Kirby - Bio. Honey - Bio. Eli - Bio. Sara - Bio.

Gluttony's P.O.V:

Kirby is woken up by a text from Eddie the following morning (Saturday 29th August), 'Get dressed, I'm taking you out for coffee'. Kirby sighs as she gets up, getting dressed, and walking into the bathroom. She looks in the mirror at herself and hides her face in her hands. Why is Eddie with me? He's so handsome and I'm so ugly. I hate this fucking stupid orange ponytail, and these scars on my face, no amount of foundation can cover them. She wipes the tears from her eyes and splashes her face with water, drying off and doing her make-up, making sure she looks like she was never crying. She walks out of the bathroom and around the house, looking for Eddie. She finds him on the back patio, smoking a cigarette, scrolling through something on his phone. she takes a deep breath and double checks her outfit.

"Hey King, what are you doing?" She asks as she walks up, standing next to him.

"I'm just lookin' through..." Eddie looks over at Kirby, "Well, hello Ma, you come here often?"

"What? Eddie, we live together."

Eddie chuckles softly, "babe, it's a pick-up line."

"Oh... right, yes, I do come here often." She chuckles weakly.

Eddie finishes his cigarette, putting his arms around Kirby's waist and kissing her gently, the look in his eyes going from loving to concerned, "Kirby, is everythin' okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine." She whispers, barely loud enough to hear.

"No, no, I don't believe ya. What's wrong?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Tell me, I don't want you being upset."

"Eddie, am I pretty?" She asks, her voice trembling, tears in her eyes.

"Are you pretty? No. Are ya fuckin' stunnin' and gorgeous? Hell fuckin' yeah."

"I don't feel pretty..."

"You don't think you're pretty, 'cause you're not someone you'd be into. I am your type, right?"

"Yeah, I love you." She nods softly.

"You are my woman, I am your man. You don't have to love how you look, just be comfortable with who you are. I'll love your body, your mind, all of ya. You just stay with me, and let me love you,I'll be the one who adores you... Now smile, ya got me emotional." Eddie murmurs, wiping his eyes with his shirt.

Kirby buries her head in Eddie's neck, letting her sadness leave her body before pulling away, "I'm gonna go do my make-up again."

"This time around, take it all off, I wanna see my girl in her natural state."

"Yes sir, Mr Kingston." She jokes softly.

When Kirby returns from the bathroom, Eddie's got one of his hoodies and her pair of timbs in his hands, he nearly drops the items when he sees her.

"Woah, how the fuck do you go from a natural ten to a fuckin' nine?"

"Do you prefer the lack of makeup?"

"Prefer it? If I hadn't decided to take you out today, I'd be fuckin' ya 'till ya can't walk. Why do you cover up all of these beauty marks? And the freckles on your shoulders, why do you cover those up?"

"You are paying extra attention to detail?" She asks softly.

"Well, yeah, now I can see the details clearly. I'm not drunk or tired, or horny as fuck," He whispers, pulling her into a gentle kiss, "put these on, and we'll head out."

"One of your hoodies? I thought you didn't like anyone toughing your stuff."

"You said you like how I smell, so I thought this would be perfect, I have plenty more."

Kirby takes in the smell as she puts the hoodie on, biting her lip to stop herself from moaning, her senses full of Eddie's presence. It takes her a moment to remember how to tie her shoelaces, her mind still on Eddie. He wraps his arms around her waist from behind, kissing her neck.

Eddie spends the rest of the day, and the following three days, showing Kirby around Yonkers. Kirby arranges their flight and hotel, the couple flying back to Jacksonville, Florida on the 1st of September. Eddie and Kirby go right to bed after flying in, waking up on the 2nd in a mess of limbs.

"Morning, Kingy." Kirby murmurs as she wakes up.

"Good mornin', gorgeous." Eddie grumbles, pulling Kirby on top of him and into a lazy 'Good Morning' kiss.

"You want me to get you a coffee, Mr Loverman?"

"If you wouldn't mind, Doll, can ya pick me up a pack of-"

Kirby kisses Eddie softly, "I can get ya a pack of cigarettes, don't worry."

"You're such an angel." He whispers, resting his hands on her ass, grinding his groin against hers.

"Eddie, no, I have things to do today."

"Like what, what's more important than sex wit' ya fiancé?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Uhm, going to the gym, writing emails to people, doing some shopping for the house."

"Doin' some shopping for the house?"

"I'm not living in a blank white box forever, Eddie."

Eddie reluctantly lets Kirby get up, watching as she does her morning routine. Kirby gets dressed in front of him, in a short, mid-thigh tartan skit, a comfy orange sweater and a black button-up jacket.

"You look so fuckin' cute. Don't ruin it with makeup." Eddie half-groans half-yawns.

"Fine, I'll just put my mask and my timbs on, I was gonna put lipstick on, but nope, it's fine."

"A'ight, I get it. You can put some, and I mean some, makeup on."

Kirby blows a kiss to Eddie, grapping a lipstick from her bag, going back into the bathroom. She returns with her lips now a deep, chocolatey, shade of brown, she puts her mask and timbs on, standing up and being pulled into a hug by Eddie.

"I love ya, I put the can of mace in your bag, stay safe. Remember, two coffees, a pack of cigarettes, and maybe a box of con-"

Kirby kisses Eddie to shut him up, "I'm not getting condoms, you can survive without sex for a couple days."

"How am I supposed to do that, when you look so sexy?"

"Either get yourself off, or suffer. I'm not in the mood right now, Eddie."

"A'ight Ma, I'll suffer with my sexy-ass fiancée, bein' really fuckin' hot, not lettin' me rock her body." Eddie grumbles.

Kirby shakes her head, kissing Eddie one final time, grabbing her purse and leaving the room. She grabs Eddie's cigarettes first, also grabbing a box of nicotine patches, then getting him the first energy drink can she sees, paying for those items and heading to the local café. She pulls out her phone and calls Eddie.

"Hey beautiful, you at that café ya like?"

"Yeah, waiting for you, gonna get some work done while I wait. I got us some breakfast and coffee."

"I'll be there in a couple minutes, gotta call Ma first, tell her we got here okay."

"Tell Ruthie I say hi, and ask her to send me that really cute picture of you, Eric and Evan."

Eddie chuckles, "Okay, will do. Love ya, my gorgeous angel, see ya soon."

"Bye, handsome." She whispers as she hangs up, getting out her laptop and starting to work.

Around five minutes later, Eddie shows up carrying both his own and her gym bags. He sits across from her and sips his coffee, snapping his in front of her face to get her attention.

"Stop it," she grumbles, "I can't remember if Mike still has my posters or not. Fuck it, I'll call him later and ask."

"Hey Princess." Eddie smirks when Kirby looks at him.

"I got you some nicotine patches, and an energy drink." She murmurs, passing him the stuff she bought him.

"Thanks, I owe ya one."

"All you owe me is a weekend in Wales together."

"Deal, I'll give you a whole month in Wales if you want."

"As if either of us is gonna take a whole month off."

"You took a year off." He teases softly.

"For medical reasons." Kirby sticks her tongue out at Eddie.

Eddie chuckles, happily digging into the French toast Kirby bought him watching as Kirby works. Every so often she looks at him and sticks her tongue out, Eddie does the same in return, making each other smile softly. They leave after Eddie finishes his breakfast, heading to the gym and training with each other. After their workout, Kirby heads back to the hotel and Eddie heads off to the arena. She continues doing her work, going down her to-do list and crossing things off.

Kirby wakes up to the sound of the hotel room door opening, she checks the time on her phone '00:13 Wednesday, 3rd September' she looks over at the door and the shape in the doorway.

"Eddie?"

"Shit, I didn't mean to wake ya." Eddie whispers, closing the door behind himself.

"What kind of time do you call this?"

"'I should have called my girl and told her I'll be late' time?" He suggests.

"Yeah, a call or text would've been nice."

"I went out for drinks with Penta and lost track of time."

"You went out for drinks and didn't think to call me?" She raises an eyebrow in confusion.

Eddie gets undresses, only leaving on his white tank-top, and climbs into the bed next to Kirby. He smirks when he sees the underwear she has on, a see-through black lingerie set with a gap over her groin.

He pulls her onto his lap, kissing her deeply and slipping his tongue into her mouth, grinding his groin against hers.

"Were ya waiting for me?" He asks, whispering in her ear.

"I will always wait for you, Eddie, I even went out and got a box of condoms for you."

Eddie growls as he kisses Kirby roughly, pulling away to search for the box, slipping on a condom before sliding into Kirby. He shifts their position so he can pound her into the bed, growling as he makes her moan.

"So fuckin' pretty, every little thing about ya is heavenly, ya my little piece of heaven." He grunts watching as Kirby cums, continuing to pound into her.

"Oh fuck, Eddie." She whispers breathlessly.

"You may think ya ugly, but I see how pretty, not even pretty, how fuckin' hot you are." Eddie inhales sharply as he cums, sending Kirby over the edge for the second time, he pulls out and kisses her deeply.

"Eddie, Papi?"

"What's up, beautiful?"

"Do you wanna actually, you know, go through with your end of the deal?" She asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

Eddie raises an eyebrow and smirks, "oh fuck yes."

Kirby's jaw drops slightly as she watches Eddie, moving at the quickest pace she's ever seen him at, chuck the condom in the bin and rush to pin Kirby to the bed.

"Woah, Eddie, slow and sensual. It's making a baby, not a fucking race."

Eddie rolls his eyes but does slow his pace, making out with Kirby as he makes love to her. He manages to last three minutes, finally cumming with a guttural growl.

"You truly are the sexiest man alive." Kirby whispers.

"You wanna go shower together?"

Kirby nods and lets Eddie lead her to the shower to freshen up, they fall asleep next to each other.

When Kirby wakes up later that morning, there's a 'to-go' cup of coffee on her bedside table, Eddie's left her a note on his pillow, she reads it and smiles.

'Gone to get us breakfast. If Moxley calls tell him to go fuck himself, he'll know why. You are the prettiest woman in the world. Never forget how much I love you. P.S I'm sorry if the coffee is cold when you wake up.'

Kirby drinks her coffee and does her morning routine, getting dressed in an all black outfit, plain black crop-top, black jeans, plain black dress shirt, her black timbs and a couple black bracelets. She smiles when the door opens, the smile quickly fading from her face.

#eddie kingston fanfiction #eddie kingston x oc #aew fanfiction #aew oc #aew fic #wrestling fic #wrestling oc #D.U.D.E #Daughters Under Darkness Elite #Kirby Gluttony Lucifarian #Kirby Rhydderch #The King Of Hell Damien Lucifarian #Damian Lum #Vi Pride Lucifarian #Viola Nye #Billie Lust Lucifarian #Bienvenida Marino #Geia Greed Lucifarian #Pelageya Winter #Honey Sloth Lucifarian #Honey Di Napoli #Eli Envy Lucifarian #Elinor Herbert #Sara Wrath Lucifarian #Saraid Grady-Sullivan #Eddie Kingston x Kirby Lucifarian #Eddie Moore x Kirby Rhydderch #wrestling fanfiction

[ashen-crest]

[ID: a banner showing line art of three potion bottles, in white, blue, and yellow, against a dark brown background. The white text on the right reads “A Rival Most Vial: Potioneering for Love and Profit.” End ID]

Eli’s Date / “Oh” Moment

Synopsis: A chapter excerpt! (Not super cleaned up). For context: Eli has just saved Ambrose from an accidental poisoning, got angry with the man’s self-isolating habits, and rushed off to his date with a baker. But Eli can’t get Ambrose out of his mind- particularly when his date has the same favorite book character that Ambrose does.

Word Count: 689

TW/CW: food mention, romance

[Eli] tried to sink fully into the date, to focus on Zander. The food was good, and the man had plenty of entertaining market stories.

But thoughts of that infuriating blue potioneer kept coming back.

Ambrose would have liked that joke, he thought. Ambrose would have enjoyed this soup. Ambrose would have gotten that reference.

He took a swig of his beer to dilute the thoughts.

“What do you like to do for fun?” he asked. Zander chewed on a bread crust and gave a thoughtful hum. 

“I’ve gotten into reading again,” he said, leaning back in the booth. “It can be nice, picking up a book while waiting for the dough to proof. I’m going through a few books from home, ones I read as a kid. Like that series about Sir, um…” He snapped his fingers when the name didn’t come to him. “Sir Dedrick? Sir…”

Eli brightened. “Sir Derrick?” 

“Yes!”

“I loved that series.” Eli leaned in. “Who’s your favorite character?”

Zander glanced up at the ceiling as he pondered, and Eli cycled through guesses. Lady Ree was the fan favorite, of course, but he could see Zander liking mild-mannered Sir Derrick. Or perhaps Eban the Bold, with his love of pastries.

Zander met his gaze. “Corie.”

Eli deflated. 

“Oh, not you, too,” he said. “Corie? Really?”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s just a…” Eli waved a hand, frustration tinging his words. “She’s a stupid farmer in the woods. She doesn’t do anything.”

“Doesn’t do anything?” Zander scoffed and set down his bread. “She’s not one of the heroes, you’re right. She doesn’t go out and kill dragons. But she’s always there for them. She heals them when they’re injured, feeds them when they’re sick. Encourages them, keeps them on the right path.” He began to grab at items on the table—the bowl of butter, the salt shaker, the spoon and fork. “You read the end of book five, right?”

“Of course.”

He pushes forward the bowl. “Lady Ree kills the dragon, saves the world, and retires her sword.”

“I remember.”

“But who does she go to after?” Zander asked, nudging the bowl to the right. “Who’s the first person she goes to for peace and rest?”

Eli paged through the scenes in his head. Lady Ree hangs up her armor, rides into the forest, and goes straight to… “She goes to Corie.”

Zander nodded, eyes bright. “She could have gone anywhere, to anyone. The whole country loves her. Sir Derrick builds a castle next to hers. Eban the Bold gives her the key to his keep.” He moved aside the spoon and fork. “But at the end of the day, she doesn’t want them. She wants her friend, the person she trusts and cares about the most.” He pushed the bowl until it touched the salt shaker. “She wants the stupid farmer in the woods.”

Eli swallowed. The person he trusted and cared about was shivering alone on a stone floor right now.

His thoughts flooded back in. He shouldn’t have left Ambrose in that workroom. He should have called off the date, brought him here, fed him soup and bread. It should be Ambrose sitting across from him, talking eagerly. It should be Ambrose’s hand resting on the table, close enough for Eli to touch. Ambrose’s eyes flickering in the candlelight, Ambrose’s lips tilted into a soft smile…

Oh no. He wanted the stupid farmer in the woods, too.

“Eli?” Zander’s voice dragged him back. He re-focused his gaze to find Zander searching his face. “Are you still worried about that emergency?”

Eli nodded, a foolish grin suddenly fighting its way to his face.

“I have to go take care of him—it. The emergency, I mean.” He stood, reaching for his coin purse. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to run out on you—“

Zander reached forward and briefly squeezed his wrist. “Don’t worry about the bill. Go take care of your friend.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve got it handled.” He nodded. “Best of luck.”

Eli strode out into the drizzling rain, slipped past the windows, then started sprinting back towards Rosemond Street.

#a rival most vial #fantasy romance #writeblr #writblr #queer fantasy romance #eli valenz #ambrose beake #my wip

[theserpentsadvocate]

Unexpected Dividends

I really had no intention of getting into the nitty-gritty of Fred’s Auto Repair shop (except for the tagline, which I am very proud of), especially since I know nothing about cars at all, but, uh… apparently this needed to happen before I could get to all the things I actually planned. I also thought these would all be from Jade’s point of view, but I guess not. For the record, I do not have anything in particular against The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime.

Anyway, this is a direct sequel to Flipping The Script, but the other installments should be more stand-alone.

*

It was probably weird to run a to-do list for your boss in your head, but Eli had been doing it since his second month on the job, because Fred was competent, and reasonably organized, and obviously he was a hell of a mechanic, but his ability to prioritize was a little bit whacked out.

It usually went something like this:

Update the shop into the 90s. Not the present, just the 90s.

This was scratched off every month or so and re-entered, because Fred was afraid of computers.

Have the sign repainted; it’s not quaint, it’s tacky. If you won’t reconsider the slogan, at least make it legible.

Stop giving Luis so much to work on. He’s reliable, not fast.

Pay me more.

Hire more help.

There were other items that made it on, but most things only took a few nudges for Fred to see the benefit. Even he understood that customers liked it when the air conditioner worked.

Right now, the list was something like

Fire Mike.

No, seriously, fire Mike.

If you do not fire Mike, I will quit. (bluff)

Update the shop to the 90s. Not the present, just the 90s. A computer with customer information on it! It can duplicate the file cabinet and we’ll keep that too.

Have the sign repainted so it looks less than five hundred years old.

Stop giving Luis so much to work on, he can’t keep up.

Hire competent help.

Pay me more.

Reconsider the slogan. No one is being drawn in by ‘Fred’s Automotive Repair: We go FAR!’ Also, their car should be what’s going far.

If you do not fire Mike, I will quit. (for real)

and it was giving him a headache. Admittedly, the clenched jaw and the teeth grinding probably hadn’t helped with that, but he’d had the world’s most annoying cloud of passive aggression sniping at him for two days straight and leaving tools out, and now Mike was mysteriously missing his Saturday shift, like Fred couldn’t fire him if he wasn’t at work. Which was fine, obviously, because at least he wasn’t there, except that now the rest of them had to pick up the slack, and Fred might forget about the whole situation by Monday, because as far as interpersonal and disciplinary issues went, he was not the world’s most hands-on boss.

But he could get another couple thousand miles out of almost any vehicle, he wasn’t running a chop shop, and he didn’t care about past assault convictions. Eli also liked him, but that wasn’t nearly as pertinent most of the time.

And he reminded himself of those things repeatedly while he ran through the basic Saturday morning checklist. If he was already pissed off when Fred got in at nine thirty, it wouldn’t make things go over any easier. Tomorrow the garage was closed, and as long as he made it through the day without killing anybody (one thing Mike’s absence definitely made easier) he could spend the day… sleeping or something. Thinking about anything else. Doing three loads of laundry.

No prizes for guessing which one of those options would end up winning.

He should put another day off under pay me more. Working six days a week was good for his bank balance, but it was killing him a little. Just because Fred had pulled those hours most of his career didn’t mean it was exactly best practices.

The rumble of his boss’s pickup pulling in jerked Eli out of his thoughts, and he shelved that thought for later. Priority one – get that motherfucking bastard out from under his feet before he went back to prison for actual murder. Priority two – everything else.

Fred was set up in the tiny back office, as always, looking through the intake book and checking over the files for all the cars that had been finished in the last two days. There was probably a real name for all that kind of stuff, but Fred still used the weird-ass system he’d invented when he opened the place by himself in the 70s, and Angel hadn’t exactly kept thorough books.

“How was it?” he asked, as usual.

“Mostly fine,” Eli conceded. “Almost lost a customer, though. Mike was supposed to handle the handover for that Cinquecenta from Monday, the one the daughter was picking up? He wouldn’t let her have it because she wasn’t the owner, as far as I can tell he didn’t even look at the paperwork, and he left me hanging for almost an hour while he gave her the runaround. He’s not working out, man.”

“So you fired him?”

“Well, I’m not authorized to fire him, but I’m pretty sure someone needs to, so…”

Fred made a face. “You know, if you’re the one with the problem, I think that means you should fire him. Isn’t that what I’m paying you for?”

Eli shook his head. “We talked about this. The promotion, remember? I’m in charge when you’re gone and I can approve deliveries and place orders for parts, but no hiring or firing.”

“Huh.” Fred tapped a pen against the desk. “Well, that seems silly. You’re the one who wants more people anyway.”

“Look, I know you’d rather be alone with the cars, but that’s not really how businesses work.”

Fred laughed, which he always seemed to do right when Eli was worried that he’d gone too far. “Well, you’re the one with the fancy college experience.”

It was his favourite joke ever since he’d seen Eli’s resumé. Normally, it was eyeroll worthy; today, after Mike’s cracks about not finishing high school, it stung.

He pushed it aside with an effort. “Look, if you want me to take over that side of things, I can.” At least, he could probably handle it. He had recruitment experience, albeit in a very different arena, and he could fake things pretty good when he had to. “But I’m already…” there was no tactful way to say holding everything together here, “underwater with the extra responsibilities, and until we get some more help…”

“You wanted me to hire more help,” Fred pointed out. “I did. Now you want me to fire him.”

“He didn’t even bother showing up today,” Eli pointed out, and Fred frowned. Eli pressed his advantage. “He’s lazy and he doesn’t listen. I can’t get my work done because I have to follow him around telling him to put his tools away and finish the jobs I give him. He spent all day yesterday bitching about not having to do what I say, and that’s aside from harassing a customer to the point she nearly walked.” He doesn’t mention that they’d already finished the job and been paid almost in full. Fred was savvy enough to know how much repeat customers mattered, but it didn’t hurt to give the story a little extra impact.

“Wait, I thought this was a competence issue.” Fred flipped back to the Gutierrez intake, complete with his notes on the pick-up. “He was harassing her because she wasn’t the owner?” he asked dubiously.

Eli shrugged. “You know, she was pretty,” he said, like he didn’t spend an hour yesterday looking for a shirt that might pass for classy with his one pair of good jeans, to wear on a date he was never going to go on with a woman who definitely would never call him.

For one thing, she was the kind of person who wore blouses and dress shoes to work, and he was the loser who finished high school on a technicality.

“So you want me to fire him, and then you want more money because I fired him?” Fred fixed him with a gimlet stare. It had been intimidating the first few times, but after two years, Eli didn’t even flinch.

“Pretty much.”

Fred snorted. “Ah, the fine diplomacy of labour negotiations.”

“Hey, I can do diplomacy.” Eli cleared his throat, mentally calling up every evaluation and workplace comp discussion from Hearst. “Having carried out all responsibilities as outlined in the updated employment agreement for the previous three months, it has become apparent that the wage increase is insufficient to the additional volume of work now required. Should further responsibilities–”

“I get it, I get it.” Fred grinned to offset the mock heat in his voice. “You’re the glue that holds this place together, you’re single-handedly staving off the red, you know lots of big words. Let’s stick to the plain talk, huh?”

Eli leaned against the filing cabinet, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coveralls. “Listen, I know you’d be paying me what I was worth if you could afford it.” He paused for the requisite laughter, then went on. “Fire this dipshit, give me another two bucks an hour starting next month, and hire Luis’s cousin. I know his English is shit,” he added, “but that won’t matter to anyone except you, and Mike doesn’t know the names of half the important stuff anyway.”

“You speak Spanish?” Fred was momentarily diverted, like this was surprising. Then he recalibrated. “So is this an ultimatum?” He raised a playful eyebrow, but the question felt serious underneath.

Eli shrugged it off. “Just a suggestion. But Thursdays and Fridays are going be a hell of a slowdown if nobody thinks they have to listen to me, and it’s like you said; I told you we needed more help.” More seriously he added, “You know I work my ass off for you, man. I’m here late every time you ask. I’m not planning on leaving. You really want me to start hiring people, or firing people…” he inclined his head. “We see how Luis’s cousin works out, and then we talk again in September?”

“At which point you’ll want more money,” Fred observed.

“Right now what I want is credit for not taking every wrench I’ve picked up off the wrong bench in the last two days and forcing it–” He’d been going to say down Mike’s throat, but based on the way Fred was laughing, he thought they were going a different direction.

“I guess that’s worth one-fifty an hour in the grand scheme of things,” he allowed, which was the best Eli was going to get, and maybe better than he’d hoped for. It wasn’t like he’d planned on incorporating the money discussion today, and he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“And I think you should get a computer system,” he added, because why not go three for three? Fred swatted at him with the intake book and declined to answer.

*

He spent Sunday dragging his stuff to the shitty laundromat on Hastings, doing it one load at a time because half the driers were busted and if you left anything waiting there were absolutely people who’d throw your wet clothes on the floor just for the hell of it. The book he was trying to get through was impossible to focus on with the churning washing machines in the background, but honestly it was more to stave off the nasty looks from the other patrons than to read. It wasn’t terrible, or anything, but it was kind of weird and pretentious, and he wasn’t sure why exactly his sister liked it so much. And the cover ripped way too easy because of that stupid cutout of a dog, but whatever; it had already been tearing when Mona lent it to him, and it was better than trying to read that Columbine book in a public place. Never mind that both those kids had been middle-class white guys.

The end result was that he was in a bad mood when he got home, with half the day gone and the choice of making himself some depressing make-do meal out of what was left in the fridge, going grocery shopping hungry, or blowing money on take-out. Eli liked his job, but the perpetual looming knowledge that he had work tomorrow just made everything worse. This was better than Hearst, he reminded himself. The pay was better, there were no bitchy college students to deal with, and he wasn’t having every mistake and injustice in his life rubbed in his face on a daily basis. Just… he needed another day off. Monday, or something.

The phone rang, and he winced. He was not in the mood to babysit tonight, even if he never minded seeing Ophelia. Ricky was a holy terror these days, and their mom had been picking up a lot of last-minute shifts, which meant a lot of trying to keep his nephew from climbing the stove every five minutes.

But Mona was family, so he fished his cell out of his pocket and answered before he even realized that it was an unfamiliar number, with just enough time to turn his customary Yeah? into “Hello?”

“Hi.” The voice was female, soft and just a little breathy. “This is Jade Gutierrez, from the other day?”

Holy shit, she’d actually called him. “Yeah, I remember. I didn’t know if you were going to call me.”

She laughed. “Me either.” There might have been an edge of nervousness to it, but she carried it off well. “I was actually wondering if you wanted to get dinner some time? Or lunch.”

Uh, yes.

“Sure,” he said easily, frantically trying to figure out some common ground worth meeting on. He couldn’t take her somewhere fancy, not on short notice, but he didn’t want to seem unenthusiastic either. “How about pizza? Works for both.” If she was too fancy for pizza, he’d never measure up anyway, he told himself firmly.

“I like pizza.” She sounded actually pleased, which was encouraging. “There’s a place on Dalton, near the movie theatre?”

Eli had never been there, but he knew it. It was a vaguely sports-bar kind of place, fancier than Cho’s but not too expensive. He could definitely wear his good jeans without getting kicked out.

“Sounds good to me. I’m usually working around lunch time, though.” He kept his voice warm but not too flirty, not sure where the line would be. She’d been so delicately pretty that he hadn’t been able to avoid thinking of her as fragile at first, even after she’d shown some spark playing along with him, but when she’d marched back around and asked for his number he’d reconsidered. But at the time he’d thought she was just getting revenge, taking their little game one step farther – he hadn’t seriously considered that she would ask him out. Maybe that changed things, but he wasn’t quite sure yet.

“Dinner’s fine.” She hesitated. “I’m free this Thursday?”

“I can do Thursday,” he said immediately, not bothering to play it cool. He didn’t have plans and he would have rescheduled anyway, but he must have been too quick off the mark because Jade laughed on the other end of the phone.

It was a nice laugh, not derisive or superior, and she didn’t try to backtrack or apologize, which he liked. “Okay. I’ll meet you there at six-thirty?”

That gave him an hour to get home and shower and change, assuming he got off work on time. “Sure. That sounds nice.” On an impulse he threw out, “Then you can laugh at me some more.”

If it was a risk, it paid off: she laughed again. “Maybe I will.”

Eli could feel himself grinning as he leaned against the counter. This he could do. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

That got him a giggle. “Well, don’t get ahead of yourself. I happen to be very serious about my pizza.”

“Is this the pineapple thing?” he asked. “Because–”

She cut him off immediately. “Oh, no. Not a chance, sir. I never talk about religion, politics, or pineapple until at least the third date.”

That made him laugh. “I guess that tells me.”

“I guess it does.” There’s a pause, just long enough to set his nerves on edge, and then she takes an audible breath. “So I’ll see you Thursday.”

“You will.” He put just a touch of heat into the words – not enough to make them innuendo but, if he was lucky, enough for her to wish they were.

She made a surprised noise on the other end, managed a half-flustered, “Okay,” and then the call ended. There was a chance he’d just ruined this, but Eli thought – maybe optimistically – that it was a small one.

Thursday. Six thirty. He’d find out.

#veronica mars #eli navarro #jade navarro #fanfic #weevil navarro #i've been sitting on this for like four days because i couldn't decide if it needed MORE #but anyway here it is #and when i finish the next one it'll probably carry on from jade's perspective #i swear these were not supposed to be so closely related #the jade/eli chronicles

[robinrunsfiction]

Can I get some Christmas smut with Mikey and a fem reader.

Merry Christmas Baby - Christmas and Winter Fic Fest 2021

Pairing: Mikey Way x Female Reader Rating: Mature (smut) Requested By: Anon Word Count: ~1,900 Author’s Note: Shout out to this anon for sending this request back on 1/1/2021, because apparently it takes me 358 days to fulfil requests 🙃

"I don't even know where to begin," you muttered as you wandered through the lingerie store behind your friends. A tightness pulled at your chest as you began to feel truly overwhelmed by the materials, and colors, and mannequins wearing items you couldn’t fathom being comfortable on anyone who wasn’t made of molded plastic.

“What do you mean?” Eli asked, barely glancing up.

You grumbled as you picked up a hanger with, well you weren't sure how it could even remotely be considered clothes. “I'm just really out of my depth in a place like this.”

Christine turned on her heel, an amused smirk on her face. "(YN), where exactly have you been buying your bras and panties your whole life?"

"Umm, Target," you mumbled, feeling your cheeks burning red.

Christine cackled. "Oh sweetie. If you think you’re gonna keep Mikey interested with department store lingerie, you have another thing coming! He's a rock star! He's probably been with so many babes, you're gonna need to step your game up."

You groaned in embarrassment and frustration. "This sooo isn't me though! And it's all so expensive too!"

"Isn't he coming home from tour soon?" Eli asked.

"Yea, end of next week, just in time for the holidays," you nodded.

"Oh, well then we really need to help you find something special!" Christine said. "Something to make him forget about all the groupies that were probably throwing themselves at him for months on end."

You groaned at the thought. You trusted Mikey, you always had and you knew he'd never cheat. Besides, it seemed like he spent most of his free time texting you about anything and everything, so you didn't know when he'd have time to run around on you.

"(YN) look at this!" Eli giggled holding up what looked like it was supposed to be a bra, but the cups were open, save for a ribbon bow in the middle of each. It came with a matching thong that had a bow on the back as well.

"That's… I mean… I can't wear that!" You sputtered, your cheeks as red as the barely there material.

Your friends seemed to delight in how flustered you were, showing you more and more impossible pieces until a sales lady came to your rescue. When you finally left the store, bag in hand, you knew your friends were satisfied, but you weren’t sure you were, or how Mikey would respond.

~

You let out a shaky breath as you zipped up your hoodie. Mikey was due home at any moment and you were equal part excited and nervous. Since shopping with your friends, you had been consumed with doubt. Not in Mikey, but in yourself. You wondered what it was that he really saw in you. You never tried hard to be sexy, what if he had secretly hated that and hoped you’d finally figure it out. Now you were wearing something you never would have normally picked out, hoping that it would have the desired effect.

The sound of a key in the front door tore you from your thoughts. “Babe? I’m home!”

“Mikey!” You squealed with delight as you ran to him, jumping into his arms. His hands found the back of your thighs as you wrapped your legs around him. “Oh my god, I missed you,” you mumbled with your face pressed against his neck.

“You have no idea how much I missed you,” he replied when you finally pulled back to look at him. He wasted no time in pressing his lips against yours with all the hunger of being apart for so long.

When you finally came up for air, Mikey set you carefully back on your feet, and you quickly became aware of how your sweatshirt had slid up. You quickly adjusted it, still nervous for him to see what you were wearing.

“Wow, Christmas-y,” you heard him say.

“What?!”

“The house, you really went all out decorating, it looks amazing!” He said with a soft smile, looking at the decorations you’d put up.

“Oh,” you laughed nervously. “Ya know, I like to make it cozy, pretend we’re still back east and it’s cold and snowy. But, umm, I have something else to show you,” you said, feeling yourself blushing again.

“Ok,” he nodded as you took his hand and led him back to the bedroom.

"Ok, sit," you instructed, pointing to the edge of the bed, and Mikey complied willingly. “Umm, now close your eyes,” you requested.

A smirk crossed Mikey’s face, and you gave him a look of annoyance in return, that made him giggle before covering his eyes.

You unzipped your hoodie, letting it fall to the floor, your jeans followed. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror across the room. The red velvet of the corset, and black satin bows details were pretty, but the white fuzzy parts that made it Christmas themed made you feel a bit foolish. All in all you still didn't feel like you belonged in it.

“Ok, you can open your eyes,” you replied, voice shaking a little.

Mikey opened his eyes, a surprised look crossing his face. "Wow (YN), you look…"

"Sexy?" You asked, your voice small.

"Yea, but kinda uncomfortable," he said sympathetically, reaching out for you.

"Yea, but I don't want you to get bored," you replied, feeling yourself blushing as he pulled you to him.

Mikey looked up at you astonished. "(YN), I could never be bored of you. You know I think you're sexy even when you're just in a t-shirt and sweatpants."

"That's what I thought!" You laughed.

"Then what made you think you needed this?"

"Eli and Christine " you muttered. "They said you have girls throwing themselves at you every night, and I need to be sexier, like this, to keep you interested."

"No way," he shook his head. "I mean this is hot as hell, but I just want you to be happy."

"Maybe I'll work on getting comfortable about this," you said, gesturing to your body. "For special occasions or something."

"So that means I can't tear it off you now?" He smirked, his hands running from where they rested on your hips up your back, then back down, over the curve of your ass, down the back of your legs.

You giggled. "It was kinda expensive, so please don't."

Mikey nodded, a coy smile on his face. "Then I'm gonna take my time."

He pulled you onto his lap, his lips meeting yours, before he started kissing down your jaw, to your neck. You ran your hand through his hair and let out a gasp at the sensation that you'd missed for so long. Mikey then shifted so you slid off his lap and onto the bed before he crawled over you. You grinned as you pushed yourself up the mattress, and he followed.

"So if I can't tear it off, I guess I'll have to unwrap you like the best Christmas present I've ever gotten," he murmured as he stroked one hand up your leg.

"I'm all yours," you replied, rolling over so he could untie the ribbons holding the corset together.

Carefully, he pulled at the bow, and you instantly felt the corset loosen. He then began to pull at it until it completely fell away from you.

When you turned back over, you kept your arms crossed over your chest. "I don't think it's very fair that I'm the only one removing their clothes so far," you smirked.

"Fair enough," he agreed, pulling his t-shirt off and tossing it aside. Even though you'd seen him without a shirt countless times before, you always admired his thin, but strong frame.

"That's more like it," you grinned, dropping your arms. That's when you noticed how Mikey was looking at you. "What?"

"You're just so beautiful and amazing, and sexy. And I missed you, all of you."

You felt yourself blush, before reaching out and pulling him to you, your lips meeting again in a heated kiss.

It wasn't long before Mikey was trailing kisses down your jaw to your neck again, then continuing down until he reached the waistband of your panties. You lifted your hips to allow him to slide them off, and he pressed kisses along your legs as he followed them down before kissing back up to your inner thighs.

Glancing up at you, you gave him a nod to continue on. He started slow, pressing a kiss to your clit before running his tongue over it slowly.

"Oh my god," you moaned. It'd been too long since you felt something so good. But before you had a chance to even recover, you felt one of his fingers dip inside you as his tongue continued to lap against your clit expertly.

"I missed how good you taste," he moaned against you and you almost came undone right then. He added another finger as you arched your back, thankful you didn't share a wall with any neighbors, lest you get a noise complaint for your moans that filled your bedroom.

You writhed under his touch, your thighs wanting to close around him, but with his free hand, he held your leg down. You let out another whimpering moan as he held you down. Maybe you'd have another use for the ribbon from your corset yet.

"I'm, I'm so close, oh my god," you gasped as Mikey continued relentlessly. "Mikey, oh!"

You came harder than you had in recent memory, your body trembling, as Mikey slowed his movements, letting you ride out your high.

"Oh my god," you murmured and Mikey let out a light laugh. "I missed that."

"I missed you," he replied, kissing you, and you could taste yourself on his tongue.

"We aren't done yet, are we?" You asked when you finally pulled back for air.

"I hope not," he replied, before leaning in to kiss you again.

You reached down and found his belt, unfastening it without even having to look. His jeans and boxers quickly found their way to the floor as well.

Your hand wrapped around him, giving him a few strokes, but he was already hard and ready to go. You pushed him over so it was his turn to lay on the bed before you climbed over him, your hips lining up with his as you sank down, feeling him fill you so completely.

"Fuck," he murmured breathlessly before you began rocking your hips and riding him. "You feel so good."

You leaned down and kissed him hard as you ground your hips against him before he rolled you over so you were again on your back. You couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips at the feeling of him filling you so perfectly, hitting every spot.

"Mikey, I'm gonna, I'm close," you breathed.

"Come on baby," he whispered, leaning in to kiss your neck. "Wanna feel it."

In a moment your back was again arching off the bed as you came again. Mikey followed shortly after, his head resting against your shoulder as you both came down.

"I love you (YN)," Mikey murmured happily. 

'I love you too," you giggled as he slipped his arm around you, pulling you close. "Ya know, I just realized you never told me what you want for Christmas."

"This, everyday, forever," he replied. You looked up at him with a smile and he gave you another tender kiss.

#mikey way x reader #mikey way fan fic #mikey way fan fiction #mikey way fanfic #mikey way fanfiction #mikey way smut #mikey way imagine #my chemical romance fan fic #my chemical romance fan fiction #my chemical romance fanfic #my chemical romance fanfiction #request

[hazzoranstories]

Elijah Mikaelson x Reader One-Shot | Thoughts That Consume

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Includes: Triggering, attempted suicide, angst, and breakdown

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A/N: Inspired by personal experiences. I know an imagine like this is not for everyone and sometimes can increase certain mental issues, so read at your own risk.

Another sob wrenched across my body. I couldn't breathe through my nose, and my mouth was dry with chapped lips. My shaky tongue went over them to try and moist them up, but it only made it worse. Elijah had always told me never to lick my lips, but I still did it anyway. The buzzing of my phone made me jump in the air and immediately hit decline. Not even checking to see who it was. I picked up the pen I dropped from how startled I was and looked back to the blank piece of paper.

I couldn't decide what to write. Where would I start? How do thousands of people do this? If thousands of people could write a suicide note, then I could, right? My phone rang again, but this time I didn't flinch and merely looked at the caller ID. Nik. I didn't know why or my reasoning, but I hit the accept button and put it on speakerphone.

"What, Nik?" I asked, trying to contain my cries to make it seem like I was fine.

"Why didn't you answer my first call?" the hybrid snapped, causing me to wince.

I didn't answer so he had to call my name. "Oh, that was you? Sorry," a tear fell from my eyes.

"Yeah, it was me. Elijah was forcing me to call you to say we aren't coming home for another hour or so. Kol is causing some ruckus and flirting with the bartender," I could hear the annoyance seeping from his voice, and I considered it to be directed towards me. I bit my lip to hold back a sob.

"Okay. That's fine. Keep Kol under control but have fun, Nik. Tell Elijah I love him," my voice broke as I hung up eagerly. I sniffed and glanced down at the item on the bathroom counter. A gun filled with wooden bullets that Elijah gave me for protection. That was the only weapon in the house beside a dagger and white oak stake, and this seemed like the fastest and least painful way to go.

When I finally finished my note a few minutes later, I read it over and over again. I'm sorry, Elijah. You deserved much better. I couldn't think of anything else to write other than something short, so I left it. With tears making rivers down my face, my trembling hand wrapped around the grip of the revolver.

For the last time, my phone began buzzing. This time it was Rebekah. She and Hayley were out shopping with Hope, so I was home alone. I answered it and this time put it to my ear. "What do you Mikaelsons want?! Can't I have a night by myself!" I yelled through the line.

"God, Y/N. I just called to see if you were okay. Nik gave me a weird call about you, and Elijah got worried --"

"Well then, why doesn't he just call me himself?" It was at the perfect timing when my phone rang again and saw it was Elijah. "I gotta go, Rebekah," I hung up on the Mikaelson girl in exchange for my boyfriend.

"What?" I whined and looked down at the gun in my hands.

"Y/N, I'm leaving Niklaus to deal with Kol and coming home," he raced out; I could hear him walking through the bar the brothers were at.

"Why?"

"Because I want to see you."

"If this is about the call I gave to Nik --"

"No, I want to see you."

My anxiety increased, and my palms got sweaty. "Stay there, Eli. I bet Kol will cooperate soon," I said swiftly.

"Why don't you want me to leave?" Elijah questioned with a certain edge that stuck out. I placed my phone in between my shoulder and ear and took a shaky breath. I cocked the gun in my wet hands, which caused Elijah to snap alert, "Y/N, what was that?"

"Elijah . . . . I know that you could speed over here in seconds, but please, I'm begging you not to."

"Y/N, what's going on," he asked, and my lip quivered.

"I'm in Nik's master bathroom. Let's hope that we see each other again one day," I whispered and heard Elijah's breathing get heavy.

"Y/N, stop whatever you're going to do. Just listen to my voice and calm down --"

"You think I would calm down if I could!" I cut him off. My sudden anger made me put the gun to my temple, rolling one of the wooden bullets to load it.

"Look, I know you're hurting right now but killing yourself won't take that pain away --"

"Yes, it will, Eli."

"-- It'll only cause the people who care about you to feel broken. If you die now, then I won't be able to live with myself, and I'll probably do the same," I could tell that Elijah was trying to hold back tears.

"Then we can be together," I replied.

"We can also be together now! Y/N, you're stronger than this, and you may not think so, but some people love you deeply," my boyfriend stated with a tiny whimper.

"I know. And that's why you should stop stalling me so I can grant people a wish --"

"It's not a wish, Y/N! You don't understand. You see, if you die, then I disconnect with my family at instinct. Then the one thing keeping its broken pieces together leaves while Rebekah has to put it back together for the next 500 years. I would give up trying for them, and so would Niklaus, Hope, even Hayley. If you give up, then so does everyone else," the vampire told me, almost resembling a snake's hiss. My breathing got caught in my throat until I was forced to exhale again.

"Eli, please. If you love me enough, then you'll free me from all this torture," I said, drowning out my own voice.

"Y/N . . . ." he was at a loss for words now. I heard a snivel, then a gulp. "I guess I don't love you enough."

A rough-edged fist crossed my face, and my consciousness went dark.

#tvd #tvd one shot #tvd imagine #imagine #one shot #angst #tvd angst #tvd fluff #tvd smut #smut #fluff #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries angst #the vampire diaries smut #the vampire diaries fluff #the vampire diaries one shot #the vampire diaries imagine #the vampire diaries smut shot #smut shot #character x reader #elijah mikaelson #the originals #the originals imagine #the originals one shot #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson one shot #elijah mikselson imagine #elijah mikaelson angst #elijah mikaelson smut #elijah mikaelson fluff

[themand0lorian]

Impression, Sunrise-Part 3

Summary: You and Marcus figure out a routine with the kids, and you learn more about Marcus’ past.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N)

Rating:  PG-13 (Mild swearing/FBI themes)

Words: ~4400

Tags: Idiots to lovers but mostly idiots, mild swearing and FBI-themes, cute childcare moments, mentions of police because toddlers don’t know what the FBI is, kids are dumb™️, Miller SUCKS, Marcus is a nervous dad, mention of a daddy kink but not in the way you think

Notes: I’ve been trying to stick to weekly for this but life is starting to get in the way; I have up through part 5 mostly complete, and hope I can get to the rest before that comes! (I’m estimating around 7 parts to the main story, then several one shots as I have time for things that didn’t quite make it in.)

PS-If you sent me an ask about being added to the taglist but are not below, please send it again! I am bad at tumblr and answered before copying the URL -____-

Taglist is open!

TAGLIST: @sugarontherims​ @ajeff855​ @spideysimpossiblegirl​ @seasonschange-butpeopledont​ @imaginecrushes​ @giselatropicana​ @agingerindenial​ @supernaturalgirl​ @captain-jebi​ @lou-la-lou​

​You spend the rest of the day occupying the kids as Marcus installs every baby-proofing measure the store had to offer. You think he may be going a little overboard, every edge of every item covered in foam, but it seems to occupy his busy mind, and Grace likes crawling after him wildly. She’s on his heels the entire time, while Eli insists on playing at least once with each of his new toys. Once tuckered out, he settles in front of the tv, and you guiltily put on the first show that you find, which he insists is his favorite. Overall, the words of the woman at the store simmer into the background as your brain is full of little pitter patter of feet, airplane noises, and talking cartoon pigs with British accents.

You had picked up some food at the store, noticing Marcus’ fridge was mostly takeout containers, but by the time dinner rolled around, Eli had other plans. “Can we have pancakes again?” He was excitedly swinging his legs from the booster seat, now more able to see over the counter. “No, Eli, pancakes are for breakfast,” you sigh, looking through the fridge for something of any nutritional merit. “But I like them!” Eli whines. “Dinner is the best time for breakfast,” Marcus insists. You’re suddenly being ganged up on, only Gracie remaining impartial in this little battle. You shoot Marcus a look, then turn to Eli, whose lip is now quivering as he gives you his very best puppy dog eyes. “Fine. Can they at least be blueberry pancakes? Get some fruit in there?” you acquiesce. “Yeah!” Eli yells, Marcus seeming to celebrate a bit too as he gets out the ingredients. You grab the blueberries from the fridge and bring them over to wash. “You know, they have you wrapped around their little fingers,” you insist. “Both of them.” Marcus shrugs, taking the blueberries to continue making the batter without answering. “Tomorrow, it’s vegetables.” “Yes, boss,” he salutes, and you huff. “Weird, I usually say that to you.” If you were being honest, when you said it, you were being a bit facetious each time, only trying to get him back for his nickname for you. But the topic seemed to spark something deeper as he continued to add and mix ingredients. “This whole thing is ‘weird,’ isn’t it?” he replied, gesturing with the wooden spoon at the current situation. Playing house. You snort a chuckle. “Yes, I suppose it is,” you laugh, taking a pan from a cabinet to place it on the stove. Eli is racing his truck along the countertop of the island, Gracie munching on baby snacks from her high chair. The sound of their babbles is distracting you as you turn the stove on. “How did you know where the pan was?” You freeze—how did you know where the pan was? “Uh—I don’t know. I just—if I lived here, this is where I’d put them,” you say, kicking the cabinet with your foot lightly as you turn to him. The batter is done, blueberries incorporated, and he starts pouring the discs as you move out of the way. “Sometimes, I swear you read my mind, kid,” he chuckles, and you agree. Despite not knowing anything personal about him, you seemed to always anticipate his next move, always be one step ahead, and he was the same with you. When his eyes met yours, hands outstretched with Eli’s plate, the words of the woman at the store came screaming back to the forefront of your brain; the way he looks at you. You search his eyes for a minute, trying to see what she saw, but you just see Marcus. The same way he’s always looked at you. You take the plastic plate he’s holding out and bring it to Eli, cutting one pancake in smaller pieces for Grace as you dismiss the woman as a nosy bystander. Marcus calls the FBI daycare as you’re cleaning up the kitchen, no doubt pulling a few strings to get both kids a highly coveted position. Where better to be under FBI custody than at the FBI? With that settled, the weekend seems to go by in a flash; Gracie crawling to her heart’s content, somehow making trouble despite being 20 pounds of pure leg chub and giggles. Eli quickly falls into a routine, only riling when he notices one of you isn’t in the room with him, that same fear of abandonment starting to creep up. On Sunday night, you do your best to prepare him for the day ahead. “Eli, tomorrow you and Gracie are going to come to work with us. There’s a daycare there, a nice lady named Miss Holly works there. She’s going to watch you while Marcus and I work,” you say softly, closing the book you had been reading to the boy while cuddled in bed. It was a queen-sized mattress, but he huddled against your side, damp curls wetting the shoulder of your t-shirt. He had insisted on you sleeping in bed with him, despite the new racecar nightlight you had purchased, and you relented, preferring this to the couch. You figure Marcus would offer his own bed, insisting he would take the couch, and that kind of uncomfortable back and forth wasn’t something you were ready for quite yet. “I want to stay with you,” he whines. His eyes are starting to close on your shoulder, so you turn off the lamp at your side, placing the board book on the table next to you. “I know, bud. I know,” you sigh, getting an idea. “You know how me and Marcus are police officers? What do you know about police officers?” You had decided this was the best way to explain your job to a toddler, and rolled with the grouping, despite usually having a distaste for the local police force. “They’re brave and strong, and they catch bad guys,” he mumbles, trying to fight sleep. “That’s right. So do you think you can be brave and strong for us tomorrow and stay with Miss Holly? Gracie really needs you there,” you whisper, the sleeping infant already in her crib. “Okay. I can do that. If it means I can be like you,” he says back into your shoulder, melting your heart that much more as he grips you tighter and falls asleep. You place a chaste kiss on the top of his head, intending on scrolling through your phone for a few hours, but quickly nodding off yourself. Falling asleep at the time of a three-year-old has significantly messed up your circadian rhythm, and when you wake up again, ready for the day, its only 3:22. Eli has rolled to the other side of the bed through the night, gripping Wilbur as tightly as possible, and you listen closely for Grace’s soft snores from the crib, hoping they will lull you into a few more hours of sleep. When you can’t pinpoint them, you sit up slowly, looking to the crib under the nightlight to find it empty. Panic rises in your chest, and as quickly and delicately as possible, you’re out of bed and into the hallway, searching for the baby. You freeze when you find her and Marcus swaying wearily in the kitchen, almost hiding in the shadows in your embarrassment. Of course she’s okay, of course he had her. She’s awake in his arms, sucking on her pacifier softly, and he’s singing to her again. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine You make me happy, when skies are gray-- You remember the song, smiling softly and resting your head against the wall as you continue to watch them in the moonlight. --You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you, Please don’t take my sunshine away. Your heart catches in your throat at the words, remembering that tomorrow would start your official investigation into the children’s parents. You wanted to find them, you really did—especially if the art thieves you had been chasing were doing something to them—but part of your heart would always be with these sweet kids. Gracie is asleep now, no longer sucking on the pacifier over Marcus’ shoulder, but he continues to sway, voice catching at the next lines. You told me once, dear, you really loved me And no one else could come between. But now you've left me and love another; You have shattered all of my dreams. He continues to hum at the conclusion of the song, and you guiltily decide to make yourself known, clearly intruding on some kind of private moment he hadn’t meant for you to see. You approach softly, running a hand through Grace’s hair while your other rests softly on Marcus’ back. When he turns to you, his eyes almost look teary, but the moonlight gives everything a silvery sheen, and you’re unsure. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispers, Gracie leaning further into the hum from his chest. “You—uh, you didn’t. I just saw she wasn’t in the crib and got worried,” you whisper back, running an arm up her back. Marcus nods; he had clearly been in his own thoughts, holding something back, and you want to lighten the mood. “You should be in a band or something, you sounded good.” “I actually was in a band,” he laughs softly, and it seems the Marcus you knew before has come back to Earth. You both walk together to the guest room, Marcus laying Gracie slowly into the crib before meeting you at the door. “Maybe that could be your next single,” you offer, watching as he makes his way past you and into the hallway. “I said was,” he chuckles, placing a hand on your shoulder as he retreats to his own room and you get back into bed. You try to go back to sleep, but the personal information, the catch of his voice in the second verse, the sheen in his eyes all seem to plague you until the sun comes up. The morning is hectic; you usually weren’t a morning person, but getting two little bodies, as well as yourself, ready and out the door on time was a feat in and of itself. You were thankful you packed their bags the night before; “Everything but the kitchen sink,” Marcus had insisted as he watched you nervously pack every toy, diaper, and onesie you could into it. Eli gripped Marcus’ hand tightly as you walked to the lower level of the building, a floor you had never even been on, but when the elevator opened to the brightest, happiest floor of the FBI you’d ever seen, he practically took off running, forgetting any anxiety he previously held. The walls were painted with murals of a forest, the shag carpet green like grass across the floor. Every inch of space seemed to be covered with blocks, or puzzles, or games, and there were short little tables with the tiniest of chairs for lessons. Tucked into one corner was mats for naptime, and in another there was an expansive book collection. Miss Holly took Grace from your arms, greeting you both and going over some policies, as Eli made fast friends with the other children. You saw Carson’s girl, who you recognized from a photo on his desk, show Eli some coloring books as Gracie crawled across the playmats to the other children. She was a bit younger than usual for the daycare, but you guessed Marcus was responsible for the exception. When you left, you noticed that there were several security guards stationed along the exit, and you wondered if that was to soothe the parents or the kids, but you were confident knowing they were only a few floors away. Settling into your desk in the office space, you watched Marcus move into his private office before opening your laptop. “Have fun playing house with the boss?” Miller is standing at your desk, coffee cup in hand and grinning. “Fuck off, Miller,” you retort. You weren’t particularly fond of your teammate; too hot headed, too cocky. Too young to get it. You wondered if Marcus thought the same about you. “Just sayin’, if all it takes for a promotion around here is some babysitting and dick sucking, I’m in,” he smirks, and you tamp down the urge to throttle him. You know he means metaphorical dick sucking, but thinking about either type with Pike makes your head spin. Instead, you focus on your few meetings in the morning, mostly aggravation from upper management about the failed raid and lack of new evidence. In the down time, you turn to the search for the Bennetts, who have become more interesting to you than the Monet.  You had the information you needed, social security numbers, names, but nothing was coming up, no matter what you tried. Somehow, tracking down this small family was harder than tracking down famous art. You resign yourself to placing alerts on their bank accounts and credit cards, hoping for some activity, when you notice it’s getting close to lunch. You decide to head to Marcus’ office to fill him in on your lack of progress. You’re surprised to find Marcus’ office empty when you arrive; he usually took lunch at his desk, choosing not to eat in the cafeteria with the team or come out when you all went somewhere. You approach slowly, as if he’s going to pop up from under the desk at any moment, until your eyes land on an odd piece of paper on the workspace. Folded but still pristine, Eli’s drawing from Friday is in the center, all highlighter and harsh pen strokes. It clearly means nothing, Eli perhaps going for abstract art, but you have an inkling that you may know where Marcus ran off to. Your suspicions are confirmed when you make your way back down to the daycare and spy him through the windows leading to the room. You can’t hear them, but Grace is on his lap, and he’s reading her a book about vegetables. Eli runs circles around him, showing him every toy he’s been playing with, interrupting him every other word. But still, Marcus smiles patiently, seeming to just enjoy the time with them after a morning away. It’s clear he doesn’t see you, and instead of interrupting him again, you push the button on the elevator to go back to your floor. You almost jump out of your skin when the doors open and your name is called. “What are you doing down here?” you ask Carson, who is shifting on his feet uncomfortably before stepping into the foyer with you. “I like to check on Emmie during lunch,” he gestures to the door of the daycare, his daughter inside. “Seems like you had the same idea.” “I was actually just looking for Marcus,” you laugh, calling for the elevator again; it must have left during your conversation, because the doors don’t immediately open. Carson looks to the window then too, watching as Eli practically crawls over Marcus’ head to get a better look at the book in his lap. “Seems like parenthood is doing him some good,” he mumbles almost to himself. “Shame he never got that from her.” “What do you mean?” Carson looks like he just got stuck with his hand in the cookie jar, but seems to force himself to continue. “I knew Marcus, before he transferred here. We worked together in Texas. He was all about this girl there, Lisbon. When I got him the job here, she was supposed to move here. Marry him, have kids and a dog and a white picket fence. The whole nine yards,” he whispers, like he isn’t sure he should be telling you. You only nod, and he continues. “Then she left him for some other guy. Since then, he’s…I don’t know. Someone else. Maybe these kids will bring him back to the old Marcus,” he muses. The elevator dings, but you’ve forgotten you’ve even called for it, gob smacked by the new information. You’re gaping in front of the open doors when another voice brings you out of your stupor. “Seems like we all had the same idea,” Marcus chuckles, stepping past Carson and leading you onto the elevator with his hand on the small of your back. You don’t notice as you flounder to recover. “I did, but seemed like you had it handled,” you smiled, waving loosely to Carson as the doors closed and brought you back to your floor. Your mind was swirling with the information. Some woman left this modest, sweet man? You chewed on your lip thinking about them. The Marcus you now knew seemed like a catch; was handsome, kind, good with kids, put together. What did this other guy have that Marcus didn’t? Super powers? You try to ground yourself as you separate back to your desk, but of course, Miller is at your side again. “Walkin’ pretty close to the boss, there, agent. What, you lift the ‘no dating at work’ rule for him?” he scoffs, and you close your eyes, trying not to let him rile you. You had honestly forgotten telling him that; an awkward fumble to avoid his advances when he first started in the department, insisting the two youngest members of the team should get together. “Please, we all see the way you look at him. Didn’t peg you for a daddy kink.” With the insinuation you jump up to your feet, slamming your hands on the table and rattling the office supplies on top. Miller smiles, finally getting the reaction out of you he wanted, and you reach back to smack that stupid smile off his face— “Hey!” The shout is loud and curt, Marcus now standing in the doorway of his office scowling as you both stand frozen in place. “Cut it out.” He calls you into his office, and Miller gives you a smirk as you walk over, closing the door behind you from his prying ears. “I’m sorry Marcus, I—” “It’s fine, kid. Do you want me to do something about him?” Marcus gestures broadly to the office space as he speaks. “Miller? No, it’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine but I don’t…” you stop yourself, composing your thoughts before continuing. “It’s fine, Marcus. Thanks for looking out for me, but I’m fine.” “Are you sure?” His voice is gentle, like when he talks to the kids. You’re reminded of this morning, finding him singing to Grace, his voice broken at the words that now make more sense. But now you've left me and love another, you have shattered all of my dreams… “Kid?” His voice brings you from your thoughts. “Did you find anything on the Bennetts?” you ask to change the subject. Marcus nods suspiciously before pulling out a file, allowing you to look it over as you sit in his office. It takes a few minutes for you to skim through it, but once you’re settled in the thick of it, Miller’s comment repeats in your head; the way you look at him. What the fuck was with all these people? Did you and Marcus look at each other with eyes popping out of your heads or something? And how was that so different than the way you looked at anyone else? Your thoughts plague you for the rest of the day, replaying as you make your way in a silent elevator to the daycare, ready to pick up the kids and call it a day. Marcus turns to you, and you can practically hear the gears turning in his head as he tries to form sentences. “You know I’ll always look out for you, right?” he says gently, repeating your sentiment from earlier in the day like he had been thinking on it all this time. You’re taken aback by the statement, surprised at his raw honestly, but only muster a nod as the doors to the daycare open, halting any train of thought you may have had in response. Eli sprints toward you both, already running his mouth about his day and what he did, as Grace and Miss Holly come up behind him, Grace happily settling into your arms. Marcus grins widely at the sight, and Eli’s newest piece of art being deemed “fit for the Smithsonian” by Marcus draws one out of you, too, the four of you making your way to the car. After a week of solid routine, and less pancakes, you and Marcus have fallen into a rhythm. Kids are up and dressed on time, eating healthy foods, going to daycare with a few less things packed (the rest, you insisted needed to be kept “in case of an emergency”). Eli had gotten less clingy, maintaining he wanted to go out on playdates with his new friends and allowing you some moments to slip back to your apartment for more clothes. The search for Kerry and Logan continued, but with no new leads and frozen accounts, there wasn’t much to go on. You’re now continuing your search at home, laptop pulled into your lap as you hit another dead end. A ping on the credit card that turned out to be a recurring payment. Resigned, you sigh into the screen, your ears catching on giggles and squeals coming from the bathroom. You close the laptop completely, approaching to the low hum of Marcus’ voice and splashing water. “Eli, can you draw a dog for me?” If you had been upset before, any ounce of that is gone, watching as both kids play in the tub. Bubbles surround them as Marcus holds Gracie still, gently shampooing her hair while Eli draws his finger in shaving cream on the tiles. He makes a squiggle, dissolving into giggles when Marcus pokes fun at his drawing. Gracie soon follows, the little noises echoing in the tiled bathroom as Marcus rinses her hair, careful of her eyes. He’s still in his work clothes, sleeves rolled up to the elbows and tie removed, and he looks like he could have been in the bath himself based on how wet he is, but his smile is deep, crinkling his eyes and pinching in his cheeks. It’s the first time you’ve seen that smile, you think, and Grace spoils your secret observation by reaching for you and announcing your presence with a coo. When he turns to you, that smile still stuck on his face, it feels like it knocked the wind out of you. “Alright, time to get out,” Marcus laments through his grin, grabbing Eli and wrapping him in a towel before lifting him out of the tub. Grace follows next, swaddled in the cotton and eyes drooping in his arms as the trio march to the bedroom, and you follow. “You can sleep in your own bed tonight,” Eli says to you proudly as you wrangle him into pajamas. Marcus has Grace on the bed, and both of you freeze at his words, happy to hear he’s feeling comfortable but not wanting to address the elephant in the room. “Eli, I don’t have a bed here, silly,” you start, unsure. “What do you mean? I thought mommies and daddies were supposed to sleep together?” he asks as you zip him up. Your hands freeze halfway, and you feel the tension from Marcus as he freezes over Grace. “Eli, you know we’re not your mommy and daddy, right? That we’re looking for them?” Marcus asks carefully, placing Grace into the crib. “I know that,” Eli insists, and both adults seem to release a breath at the same time. “But I thought when you’re married you sleep in bed together.” “Eli, we’re not married,” you insist gently, continuing to get him into bed and his eyes go wide. “You’re not married? Why not? Are you married to someone else?” he asks incredulously, clearly following his own train of thought. You giggle as you answer negatively, only pausing when Marcus steps in. “I was married once, a long time ago,” he says gently, lifting the boy under the covers. Your throat constricts, remembering Carson’s words from earlier in the week. But Marcus doesn’t sound angry, or sad; it sounds like he’s just telling Eli the truth, in a way he can understand. “What happened?” He asks innocently, and your feet are cemented to the floor. Your fight or flight practically kicks in, but somehow, you ignore both options and stay completely still like you will melt into the wall. “We didn’t love each other anymore,” he explains. “And then you can never get married again?” “No, I almost got married again,” he chuckles, and you wince, preparing yourself to hear the words from his mouth. “But you both have to love each other very much to get married. You have to want to spend your life with them, to know them really well,” he explains, tucking the boy in. Grace already appears asleep, unmoving in the crib. “So you have to know each other and love each other to get married?” Marcus finally makes eye contact with you, a desperate plea for help, so you try. “Sometimes. Sometimes you can sleep in bed together and not be married,” you wince, realizing you’re giving too much information, but he’s peering eagerly over the covers. You try to shift the subject, wanting to insist on sharing the bed again. “As long as you love each other, that’s all that matters. You’ll understand when you’re older. Goodnight, bud,” you say softly, turning off the light and practically racing out of the room. Marcus is on your heels, both of you holding your breath for no more questions as you stand in the kitchen silently. When he seems to have fallen asleep, you both release a collective sigh, until you heave out a whispered curse. “Fuck! I forgot to ask about sharing the bed,” you chuckle, and Marcus smiles too, shaking his head at your antics.

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x y/n #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x reader #impression sunrise #the mentalist

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Gavin’s Sky Date - Prologue

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date prologue, 云霄之约, which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Do note that you have to read this before embarking on the actual date, because it contains background information and sweet domestic bliss you wouldn't want to miss :>

[ This date was released on 14 April 2021 ]

[ Part One: A Dream About to Take Flight ]

MC: Ahhh! My life is up to me. Not. Up. To. Fate!

The small dice in my furled hand is tossed around several times. When I loosen my grip, it rolls quickly on the map -- ‘2′.

Gavin: Hahaha--

Gavin laughs, but hurriedly retracts his smile when he senses my murderous gaze.

Gavin: It’s okay, things will definitely take a favourable turn in the next round.

Sulky, I let out of a huff. I watch as he picks up the dice, casually rolling a '5′. Then, he cheerfully shifts his own plane on the map by six spaces.

[Note] In the game of Aeroplane Chess, your plane can only leave the starting point if you roll a ‘5′ of ‘6′!

MC: ...

It’s a Saturday afternoon. Gavin and I had nothing to do after eating, so we randomly grabbed a set of Aeroplane Chess from the supermarket to play. But I didn’t expect to have such a terrible gaming experience!

Although it’s been the sixth or seventh round, I just can’t the ‘6′ I need to get my plane out of the hangar. On the other hand, Gavin has always been able to get it to take flight smoothly, and very quickly reaches the goal.

MC: Gavin, with your kind of luck, there’s no need to waste it on playing games with me.

After pondering for a long while, I offer him a serious suggestion.

MC: Let’s head out to buy a lottery ticket?

Gavin: Why don’t we play something else? The paper model from last time was only half done. Since we have time today, we could get it done at one go.

At this moment, the phone on the floor beside me rings. Seeing the familiar number, I tap on the hands-free function.

Nurse: Miss MC, the physical report done at our hospital is ready. Please bring your receipt and collect it within fifteen working days.

MC: Mm, got it, thank you.

Gavin is currently storing the Aeroplane Chess pieces into the box. Hearing this conversation, he gives me a puzzled look.

Gavin: Haven’t you already gone for a physical examination this year? Are you feeling unwell?

MC: No, no. I’m using the report for the registration.

I deliberately pretend to be secretive, leaning towards him. Then, I show him the registration form that I had submitted online beforehand.

MC: I’m going to get a Private Pilot License.

-

[ Part Two: First Day of School ]

On the first day of aviation training, I set the alarm to wake me up at 6.30am. Even Gavin is stunned at the level of enthusiasm I have for learning.

Gavin: The courses for the aviation license can get pretty dry. You have to be mentally prepared.

MC: Are you referring to things like meteorology, aircraft structure, air traffic regulations?

Gavin: Mm. Aside from the exams, such knowledge is necessary for aircraft pilots.

While he speaks, he lifts his head to give me a smile.

Gavin: But they definitely won’t stump you.

After packing my things, I grab a random jacket and prepare to leave.

The classes take place in the suburbs, and it takes an hour to get there. Despite waking up early, I’d be late if I don’t hurry up.

But Gavin is clearly not too worried about this matter. He holds a slice of bread in his mouth while looking at his phone.

Gavin: Since I’m sending you there, you won’t be late. Before your first official lesson, I’ll give you a flight class.

I walk over to him, pulling up the zipper of his uniform, and also picking up the motorcycle helmet from the table.

MC: To prevent this from being a mere flash in the pan, I want to leave the joy of flight to the end of the course. But if going by land would make me late...

Gavin rolls the bread into his mouth, taking the helmet from my hand.

Gavin: No matter the route, you won’t be late. Oh yes, what class are you taking today?

-

[ Part Two, Option 1: Principles of Meteorology ]

Instructor: I’ll ask some small questions to test your foundation and see if you take note of knowledge in this area.

He opens the PowerPoint presentation, then uses a laser pointer to point at the image on the first page - it's a cumulus cloud with a flat bottom layer and a high, upward curve at the top.

Instructor: Does anyone know what this cloud is called?

MC: Cumulus congestus cloud.

Instructor: Correct. The next question - when the International Civil Aviation Organisation observes cloud volume, how many segments do they divide the sky into?

MC: It should be eight segments.

I recall that Gavin brought this up before.

Instructor: Not bad, miss. You did preparatory work beforehand, didn’t you?

MC: No no, I have a friend who has a better understanding in this area, so I was just influenced.

After saying this, chuckles drift from the surroundings. The instructor nods in understanding.

Instructor: In that case, you won’t have a problem during the exams.

MC: ...I’ll do my best.

After all, my confidence is limited when it comes to exams.

Just as I’m thinking about this, I receive a notification on my phone. Gavin has sent me an incredibly large document file.

Gavin: I don’t know how to teach, so I compiled some materials you might need for the exam.

I grip my phone, suddenly feeling like the weather is so good that it makes one carefree and relaxed.

It’s just an exam. I’ll definitely be fine.

-

[ Part Two, Option 2: Aviation Regulations Class ]

At 2pm in the afternoon, the sun shines from above. I had a full meal, so fighting against the sleeping bug is a difficult challenge.

Instructor: Before the flight, the captain has to carry out the necessary inspections of the aircraft. Until the inspections are complete, you can’t take off. This regulation is easy to understand. In fact...

When the dullness of the course matches how fine the weather is, the entire classroom gets immersed in a drowsy atmosphere.

I take a few deep breaths and pat my face... but I still feel like sleeping.

Instructor: Okay, we’ll take a 10 minute break. You students look sleepy, so go wash your faces to freshen up.

The moment he finishes speaking, the sound of heads plopping down on the tables can be heard all around.

Just as I prepare to stand up and stretch, my phone suddenly vibrates.

Delivery boy: Hello, I’ve placed your take-out at the main counter.

MC: Take-out?

But I didn’t order take-out...

While I’m puzzled, the young lady from the main counter very politely brings the item to the classroom - it’s a cup of coffee.

There’s only one simple line on the note of the take-out: Persevere for a little longer. Gavin.

I retrieve the coffee from the bag, taking a tiny slip. The instructor walks past, giving me a glance from the side.

Instructor: Are you drinking coffee or milk tea? You’re smiling so happily.

MC: Being able to swim in the ocean of knowledge is always meant to be a happy thing.

The instructor gives me an expression which says, “like I’d actually believe you”.

MC: Instructor, let’s continue with the lesson. I’m not drowsy anymore. Learning for another four hours is no problem at all!

-

[ Part Three: Being Your Co-pilot ]

Gavin: Do you want to head out for a stroll after dinner? It seems to be really cooling outside.

I’m currently taking out plates from the kitchen drawer, subconsciously craning my head to glance outside.

MC: It’s going to rain, isn’t it...

Gavin: Really? I’ll check the weather forecast. Earlier in the afternoon, Eli mentioned taking out some time to wash his car at night. I even thought today would be a good day.

I step into the living room, setting down plates on the dining table. 

MC: There are just some cumulonimbus clouds in the sky. It might not really rain.

Gavin scrolls through the real-time weather, then gives me a smile.

Gavin: It’s really going to rain.

He gets up, opening the rice cooker and scooping a full bowl of rice for me.

Gavin: At first, I even thought you’d find such theoretical knowledge boring. I didn’t think you’d learn them so earnestly. Looks like you really want to get the license.

MC: Of course. I want to be your co-pilot.

Although Gavin hasn’t even scooped rice for himself, he’s already served me a huge pile of vegetables.

Gavin: Sure. I’ll wait for the day you get your license.

Just as I’m about to talk about how assured I am about getting the license, I realise that the plate on my hand is becoming fuller and fuller. 

Before I can even voice my question, Gavin responds.

Gavin: Learning is tough. You need to eat a little more. I also bought you ice-cream. It’s in the second compartment of the freezer. I remember you mentioning that as long as you eat something delicious during difficult times, you can press on easily.

MC: ...hahaha! Mm! After having this meal, I’ll complete all my post-class homework!

-

[ Aviation Terminology Class ]

MC: Calling for the control tower. Number N8596 has arrived, and is requesting for a landing gate.

Gavin (through the phone): Number N8596, you may use aircraft Gate Number One.

Gavin’s light-hearted laughter drifts from the phone.

Gavin: Shouldn’t your class end at 7pm? It’s only 6pm.

MC: The plan was to be dismissed at 7pm, but... for some reason, those in my class were really interested in the Aviation Terminology class, so they did their preparatory work in advance. The three hour class was over in one and a half hours. The instructor said that we already grasped all the key points, so we were dismissed early. What about you? How much longer till you’re off work?

Gavin: For me... less than half an hour. You could think about what to do with this unexpectedly free hour. I remember that there’s a new dessert shop opposite the cinema.

MC: You remembered? I never even told you about it. How could you remember? Officer Gavin, you better tell me the truth. You didn’t remember it - you specially searched it up.

Gavin: Mm, I specially searched it up. I even found that there are claw machines along the shopping street on the ground level of the cinema. 

MC: Looks like what I’m going to do in the next hour has already been scheduled. 

Gavin: Wait for me at the office first. I’ll look for you once I’m done with the work on hand.

-

[ Part Four: Flight Practice ]

Today’s the first flight practice class. The instructor is sitting in the co-pilot seat, watching my every move throughout the entire journey.

I wasn't nervous at first, but each time he glances at me, I involuntary wonder if I’ve done something wrong.

In an instant, I recall the fear of taking the aviation exam...

Until the plane successfully takes flight, I keep feeling as though the thing suspending in the air isn’t the plane, but my heart.

Instructor: It’s rare for you to make a trip up here. What’s there to be nervous about? Come, lift your head and look at the sky.

At this moment, countless gripes flash across my mind: What’s so nice about the sky? I’ve seen all kinds of skies. Right now, all I want is to fly the plane...

But the moment I lift my head, I’m rendered speechless.

Instructor: How is it? The first time I saw it, I was so stunned that I couldn't speak either.

MC: It’s really beautiful.

Sunlight casts a layer of golden hue on the soft and white clouds, blending the colours of gold and crimson.

I’m unable to describe how the scenery before me makes me feel. 

It’s a feeling which... makes one feel that life has meaning.

All of a sudden, another thought surfaces in my mind: I wonder what went through Gavin’s mind when he saw such a sight for the first time.

The instructor sitting next to me glances at me from the side.

Instructor: Thinking about your boyfriend again?

MC: [blushing] ...no!

Instructor: It’s normal. Each time I’m flying, I can’t help but think of my wife. There isn’t a reason to it. It’s just a sudden thought, an involuntary reaction.

The instructor laughs as he gives me advice with a contagious smile.

Instructor: If you’re thinking about him, just do it. It’s fine. It’s a normal thing. When you see certain things, your natural reaction is to think of someone.

MC: ...Instructor, I usually can’t tell, but you’re actually quite philosophical.

I grab the joystick of the plane, watching as countless clouds drift past leisurely.

All I want to do is take a photograph of this moment for Gavin.

Date: here

-

Gavin watching as I drool over the thought of Eli scrubbing his car in the rain while wearing a singlet:

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc gavin #summary of the prologue: gavin is the perfect boyfriend

[writing-gifts]

both sides of the viewfinder chp. 4

adult film star!bruno x afab!reader  (they are also gn)

18+ content!!

chapter 1 || chapter 2 || chapter 3 || chapter 4

——–

A/N: i was not quicker with the next update lol, but im tired of reading over it so gonna just throw it out there now since im mostly happy with it!

anyways, resort time babeyyy 😎

------

You try not to show it but you're filled with excitement. You've never been to a resort and Bruno had offered to pay for your expenses. Of course you were only willing to let him pay half (which was the lowest you could get him to go).

The two of you had been playing a game of sorts ever since your little session in the dressing room. Even though the both of you wanted to finish what you started, you had wordlessly decided to see how long the other would last before giving in. You couldn't really call it romantic but you did know there was lust involved--a lot.

The game had honestly made you quite bold and taught you some patience. Of course you still had some close calls though, and filming Bruno at work had made it that much harder for you. It wasn't fair and you made sure to let the man know this, but he just coyly smiled and told you he was ready to go whenever you were.

You drop your luggage in front of the bed you and Bruno would be sharing for the next week. At first, you assumed you would both be in separate rooms since you weren't an actual item, but Bruno wasn't having any of it which you were glad for. You wanted to get as much alone time as you could with him during this vacation.

You get closer to the sliding glass doors that lead to the balcony. The location was perfect and you had a nice view of the beach from here. You had never seen such blue water or white sand. And you could already feel yourself sprawled out on a towel next to a shirtless Bruno.

"Like the view?" Bruno asks, pulling you from your thoughts.

You nod. "This is great! Thank you again for inviting me."

"Of course. I didn't want to go a whole week without seeing you."

You try to force down the smile that appears on your face in response but it's obvious and you know Bruno already saw it.

He smiles, reaches out and places a gentle hand on your cheek. However, you close your eyes to avoid his very intense and persuading gaze.

"Gonna have to try harder than that," you say under breath as you turn back to the balcony.

"...I didn't expect you to last this long. You've definitely proved me wrong."

"And I'm going to win too." You stick out your tongue.

Bruno smirks but says nothing more before going to unpack his luggage. You eventually pull yourself away from the view to do the same.

-----

You lay on your back, sunglasses on your face as you let the sun warm you. You were still pretty full from brunch and any moment now you expected to fall asleep. 'Til then, you watch Irene, Eli and Jocelyn goofing off in the water and sand.

The group decided to start the day together off at the beach. Which was perfect because today was going to be about relaxation, at least for you anyways. You all had time to get rowdy later if you wanted to anyways.

"____?"

You turn your head to look at Bruno who currently lays on his front. His sun hat sits on the back of his head to keep that part of him shaded.

"If you don't mind, can you put sunscreen on me? It's been awhile since I last did."

"Sure," you say. You should probably put some on too when you're done.

You walk on your knees to grab the bottle out of Bruno's bag and then crawl your way over to him.

You couldn't help but take a moment to admire his tanned back. The muscles along it were a lovely sight and of course being the horny bastard that you are, your eyes drift down towards his ass. He had a cute butt that you had seen many times but still weren't tired of.

You suddenly remember a scene where Bruno was getting railed and need to take a moment to calm down.

Maybe one day…

"Hello?" Bruno pulls you from your inappropriate imaginings.

"Right, right--sunscreen."

You scooch up next to him and move to place your knees on either side of his hips so you can sit on his upper thighs.

Bruno looks over his shoulder at you with a raised brow, causing his hat to fall off, but you smile innocently.

"Relax," you say.

He squints but lays his head back on his arms.

Once you squeeze and rub the cool, sweet smelling cream on your hands you bring them to his shoulders. You spread the cream following the lines of his muscles on his upper back before sliding lower.

You spend a little more time on his lower back then you should, and the dimples that rest above his ass get special attention.

The man's hips shift oh so slightly and you look up and see that his eye is closed and his brow furrowed.

You scoot up and lean forward. "I could do your front too," you whisper in his ear.

"We are in public."

You jolt at the gruff voice a small distance away. Sitting up, you see Abbacchio scowling at the two of you from the giant parasol he's sitting under.

You sigh but move off Bruno before the goth kills you with his glare.

"You're right. Sorry," Bruno says.

You weren't sorry but nod anyways. It's not like you two were doing anything that obvious. Just some teasing. And there was barely anyone outside your friend group out here!

"Just keep it out of my sight." Abbacchio taps the airpods in his ear before returning his attention to the ocean.

After you all get your fill of the beach, which goes well into the evening, it's time to get ready for dinner.

Since it was the first official day of your vacation you all want something more casual but still on the expensive side. So you all eventually decide on Korean BBQ.

"I'm just glad you two didn't try to fuck each other on the beach," Irene says. "Even if it would have been fun to watch…"

Okay so maybe you weren't as discrete as you thought. Abbacchio throws an unimpressed look directly at you and Bruno, but you choose to ignore it.

"I was just putting sunscreen on him I swear…"

Eli smirks at you. "This picture says otherwise."

Your brows raise when they show you and Bruno the image on their phone.

Your cheeks go hot and you look down at your plate. "Why did you even take a picture of that?"

"Memories!"

Jocelyn barks out a laugh. "You have a weird taste in memories cause that's the last thing I'd want to remember!"

You roll your eyes but you know it was in good fun. Bruno seems mildly amused anyways.

Not willing to entertain the topic any further, you pick up a piece of grilled pork from your plate. As you bring it to your mouth, you feel Bruno's leg brush against yours.

You peak over at him but he seems to be completely invested in a conversation with Abbacchio.

You assume it's an accident until you feel him do it again along with resting his hand on your upper leg. His fingers gently squeeze your inner thigh before rubbing the area with his thumb.

You continue eating your food as if it has no affect on you. It takes a lot of will power though as he continues his caresses throughout the whole dinner.

Afterwards, the group splits off. Jocelyn and Irene head to a club, Eli to the casino (Jocelyn made sure to put a limit on the money they could blow) and Abbacchio to the bar. You and Bruno decide to head to your room, obviously not in the mood to go anywhere else tonight.

When you reach your room, you both get ready for bed acting as if you don't want to fuck each other.

You crawl next to Bruno on the bed once you're done with the bathroom.

"I'm not tired yet…" you say

"Me neither."

"I guess we could watch a movie or show. There has to be something we both like on Netflix."

You pick up the remote for the TV and make your way to Netflix and start scrolling through the options on the front page.

"What type of stuff do you like to watch anyways?" you ask.

"Romance works."

"You probably watch the explicit type of romance," you joke.

Bruno's eyes widen slightly and you surmise that you guessed right. Either that or he was weirded out by your statement and that seemed very unlikely.

You smile amused. "Well I guess we could watch something like that then!"

Once you both finally settle on something, you get comfortable and lean against Bruno.

The movie wasn't really that great and every sex scene that happened made you cringe but it was at least kind of entertaining. Still, you were starting to get bored and were still horny from all the nonsense you and Bruno had been up to the last several days.

So in a moment of weakness you place your hand on Bruno's thigh. He looks at you expectantly but you do nothing more.

You want to look at him properly to see his expression but you need 100% focus or you would break. So you keep your eyes on the TV as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. If you were lucky this would somehow bring your game to a close and the two of you could do something more exciting.

Bruno says your name under his breath, but you simply hum. Enduring that dinner was proof of your will and you believe you could keep this up all night if needed. (But that was the last thing you were hoping for.)

Suddenly, you feel a warm hand on top of yours.

Bruno guides your hand further up his thigh. "Please…"

"Huh?" You fake the confusion in your voice.

"Let's end this game."

"Oh...so that means I win?"

"Yes you win, just please touch me."

You smirk and move to kneel a small distance in front of him. "That was so easy!" You were thoroughly going to enjoy this.

When he sees you're not getting closer it prompts him to scooch forward on the bed, but before he can touch you, you push him down on his back and crawl on top. There's a slightly stunned look on his face but it quickly changes to one of anticipation.

You line your chest with Bruno's and lean down for a kiss which he returns enthusiastically.

"I never thought I'd enjoy losing this much...." he murmurs against your lips.

You smirk and continue your kisses down his cheek. Your hands find their way under his shirt and slowly explore the span of his abdomen and chest. He softly sighs when you begin sucking at the skin between his neck and shoulder and your hands squeeze him in response.

When you hear Bruno's breathing become slightly heavier you sit up and remove his shirt. You'd seen his body many times in all sorts of positions but you still take a second to appreciate his toned torso.

You press kisses to his chest and let your hands run down his sides enjoying how he just barely reacts under your fingertips. You stop at his hips, and your thumbs trace back and forth along his hip bones. Your tongue brushes against Bruno's nipple, and you feel him tense under your hands.

You move back to sit on his pelvis and immediately feel his cock through his pants. Bruno gently rocks his hips against your ass, and you entertain the motion by pressing down yourself.

His hands grab your hips, but before he can get too carried away you pull your ass off him. He ends up humping the air and lets out a sigh of frustration. His tune changes quickly though when he sees you move down between his legs.

"I'm not really feeling like I lost anything…"

You gently rub at his hard bulge through his pajama pants. "Well guess I'm just that generous. But at the same time I feel like I'm going too easy on you now."

"Please don't make me wait any longer ____."

You look up and the man's cheeks are flushed and he seems a little dazed, but he doesn't take his eyes off you. Seeing the usually controlled actor look at you this way has your stomach flipping.

"I didn't expect you to be so impatient," you say.

"I suppose you just have this effect on me..."

Smiling to yourself, you pull his pants down and are surprised by a pair of fancy panties.

You raise a brow at him. "...You already knew how tonight was going to end, huh?"

You carefully pull the satin fabric down before licking a slow stripe up his cock. The smug look on Bruno's face is immediately wiped away.

You wrap your hand around his twitching member and press your lips against the tip. He lets out a low hum, and your tongue licks against the slit before your mouth wraps around his sensitive head.

Whenever Bruno tries to move his hips you force them down and continue with your teasing touches along his cock. But eventually you decide to stop messing with him and fully take him into your mouth.

His eyes flutter shut. "Hmm, that feels amazing amore."

Even though he was finally in your mouth you move achingly slow and you can tell he wants you to go faster. And he makes it quite clear.

You let up a bit but mostly keep at driving him crazy. Your hand starts to knead at his balls and you immediately feel him twitching in your mouth.

"____. You're--"

You pull off.

Once Bruno realizes what just happened he deadpans at you. You laugh at his expression and he sits up with a sigh.

"Okay you had your fun, time to lay back."

You raise a brow at him.

Bruno begins stripping himself completely of his clothes. "You're the winner, right? Let me treat you."

Perhaps he had a point, and you didn't really have a problem with letting him takeover. This time.

Before you can think of taking your own clothes off, Bruno's doing it for you. His thumbs hook in the band of your pants and pull them down for you.

"...No underwear?" he asks.

You shrug and remove your shirt in an attempt to prevent yourself from laughing. "Guess you weren't the only one planning on ending this tonight."

Once you're done, you lay down and Bruno settles next to you. He places his hand on your lower stomach and brings his face close to yours. You immediately get caught in his blue eyes. It's not fair that he gets to be so handsome.

His finger easily pushes past your wet entrance while his thumb rubs gentle circles against your clit. Another finger is soon added and he begins to thrust his fingers slowly into you. When he crooks them against your walls you have a hard time holding back the noises you want to make.

"A-Are you gonna get me back for teasing you?" you ask. It would be deserved, but you hope he didn't. You hadn't realized how worked up you were until Bruno started touching you.

"Another time. I don't want to wait any longer."

He removes his fingers and gets himself situated on top of you. Once his hips are comfortably between your legs, you drag a finger along his cock before grabbing and lining it with your entrance. Finally after all the games you could both get some relief.

The moment Bruno feels himself against your entrance he presses in letting you take him slowly, inch by inch. When he's fully in, you sigh and slightly wiggle your hips. One of your legs hook around his waist and you place your arms around his neck. He keeps his eyes on yours as he pulls back before pressing in again and starting a nice and comfortable rhythm.

Your hand plays at the soft hairs at the nape of his neck before properly tangling into his locks. You pull and his lips part, a perfect moan falling from them. His hips thrust against you particularly hard forcing a groan out of you.

You smirk a bit. "Never get tired of that…"

Your fingers massage his scalp before you guide his face close to yours. Your lips join and he quickly presses his tongue into your mouth.

Just as you're really enjoying the kiss, he ends it. But before you can pout he pulls you close against him. His thrusts begin to speed up and his moans are muffled by the side of your face.

You always loved Bruno's moans when you were filming him but something about his current ones were different--so desperate and wanting. They had you clenching on his cock.

His hand snakes down between you two and your eyes fall shut as he rubs your clit. Your breath hitches when you feel him nip your ear.

Bruno hums. "You feel amazing...I feel like I could do this for hours."

You mumble something unintelligible under your breath in reply, not even sure what it you said until you start moaning out Bruno's name. Your back arches and your legs tighten around his waist to keep his hips in place as you come.

Bruno nuzzles against your neck and once your legs relax he continues thrusting.

"You came on my cock so well...ah, just a little more--"

His hips begin to stutter and he calls out your name. You press your lips to his temple and move your hips to help him along. His body tenses before he pulls out and comes onto your stomach.

Bruno's hips rock against you as he comes down and soon his body relaxes against yours. He doesn't seem to mind the mess he's making. His nose brushes against your cheek before you feel a kiss.

After some silence you yawn."...We should do this more often."

He stops peppering kisses on your neck and places an arm over your torso. "Agreed. In fact, we can start again in 5 minutes after I clean us off."

You gawk a bit at him. "Don't you get tired?"

"I do, that's why I said 5 minutes."

You scoff but end up grinning instead. "Well...it's not like we're going anywhere for awhile."

#bruno buccellati x reader #bruno x reader #bruno bucciarati x reader #they should smashed on the beach for the aesthetic or whatever lol #that can be another chapter if i ever get energy to write smut again #jjba x reader #reader insert #n$fw #not sfw

[thesimonkshow]

How AHS: Double Feature - Red Tide Should Have Ended

So I think all of us have pretty much seen the AHS: Double Feature - Red Tide finale. To put it both politely & bluntly: Choices were made, the majority of them not executed well. Me & my sister were agitated following the finale and we spent a good deal of time working on a better one & I think we made a good set of ideas. So let me go into them below.

So the only thing I’d change in the episode is the fates of Mickey & Karen, instead of becoming beneficial from The Muse, they instead become pale people, I know sad, but it’ll make sense in a bit. Also remember how The Chemist verbatim said that pale people keep the thoughts of them not being good enough to succeed? Well instead of the episode ending with Doris feeding off of an animal, it has her remembering her other memories with the Gardners, in particular what Alma, Ursula & Harry said about her the night before and day of her release.

The episode jumps ahead in time a bit since the last one, but besides that the beginning stays the same: The Chief is found in the water, it’s brought up at the council, Holden turns the new chief away, Harry wants to give up The Muse, Alma & Ursula interject but he puts his foot down, Eli gets captured by Belle. Harry & Alma decide to go but need backup, Ursula refuses at first but then the two begin to bait her, if she comes out alive with or without them, she’ll be hailed as a hero & will have opportunities to milk it in public and make millions, the story of how she rescued Eli could be a book, a miniseries, a film, but she’ll never get it if she stands to the side. Hooked in, she agrees and goes with them.

They arrive at Belle’s, however they get overpowered and tied up. When they come to, they see Belle preparing to feast, The Chemist looking on & Austin standing guard over them. Harry pleads for their lives & how they’ll leave Provincetown and never take another tablet, but Belle & Austin ignore him. Belle gets ready to drink but Harry tries to lunge forward, Austin takes his knife and drags it across Ursula’s throat, feeding on her while Belle barks at Harry to stay still or he’ll be next. He stills & Belle goes into her rant about having to clean up the town, when the pale people break in. We see a flashback of Doris regaining her memories & beginning to speak english again. The pale people bow to her, perceiving her as their leader, an anomaly which makes her happy, however her happiness soon turns to rage when she realises she has a whole army to serve her. She goes to the Gardner’s house, prepared to break in when she overhears Eli has been kidnapped by Belle & she instead forms another plan: Follow Harry, Alma & Ursula to Belle’s, wait for the right moment and strike.

Returning back to the present, The Chemist takes Eli and runs, whilst Austin & Belle attempt to attack the pales to no avail, they both end up dying (Remember when Belle is being fed on by two pales in the episode, they ain’t no ordinary pales, it’s Mickey & Karen, they kill her as revenge for all the turmoil she’s put them through). Whilst this is going on, Alma works Austin’s knife closer to her & cuts through the ropes, setting herself & Harry free. She then runs to attack Doris before Harry rushes in front of her holding her back, reprimanding her as she is still her mother, pale or not, and how he should never have gotten her mixed up in this mess. Doris’s anger fades as she sees he still cares, and tells them both to leave, sparing them from her army. Harry & Alma do so and bump into The Chemist with Eli. She has an emotional moment with Harry about how she never wanted things to be this way, how she just wanted to be successful and have her own family, but she got dragged into this whole mess and taking pity on her, Harry extends an invitation to LA with them to start anew, she accepts and they leave the same night.

The next day, the town awakens to find Belle, Austin & Ursula dead and upon investigating, the new chief finds possessions of Holden’s in Belle’s house and later receives an anonymous tip off that Holden was involved with Belle & Austin. See in addition to remembering everything, Doris remembers that Holden was with Harry, bagging out her designing choices. As a final act of revenge, she sets him up, making it seem that he was responsible for all the murders. He gets taken in alongside the council, whom are all suspended from their positions. Doris watches with the other pales, pleased that they have had the last word.

We then head to LA; where The Chemist has been pawning off the pills to racist cops, same as the episode shows. However she’s also been supplying them to Alma behind Harry’s back alongside blood bags so she can continue her violin career. Harry is too busy to be caring anyway, as his scripts are an absolute success, again same as the show. Everyone is lining up to work with him, and critics and civilians alike are lapping up his content. The only problem is that the content is starting to run dry & despite Harry wanting to be off the pill, the weight of expectations from critics and fans overwhelms him, and he gets The Chemist to give him a pill, however he wants one that won’t work like The Muse did before, he’s past drinking blood from the bums in Provincetown like he did before. She agrees and spends a few days perfecting it before she completes it and gives it to him, he takes it, and experiencing a rush, he heads to his laptop and spends time writing his next project. However on a reread of it (which he must do himself as he no longer has Ursula) realises that it’s the same sort of script he would have written before he got The Muse, the pill isn’t working.

Meanwhile Alma has her audition & as in the episode comes down to her and another guy. This time instead of being left alone, the caster joins them and hires the other guy. Alma is shocked and asks why, and the caster condescendingly tells her all the other guy said, she’s a viral hit and only that, she’s not versatile enough, a bearded lady in a freak show, she’s not talented enough. Given Alma can’t resort to murder, as she’d be overpowered, she must bottle up her rage until she gets home where she then throws a massive tantrum, screaming as she breaks several household items including her violin. Harry hears her and goes in to find Alma & the wrecked house. An argument follows about it where Harry tells her scathingly that everything she said about Doris actually applies to her: She isn’t talented. Harry demands she pick up her mess, which she does begrudgingly, starring daggers at her father and this distraction causes her to she cuts herself with one of the pieces of a broken china plate.

Harry suddenly turns stoic and before either can register, he rushes forwards and begins to feed on Alma’s open would. She tries to get him off her, trying to appeal to his better nature, but he ignores her, pushing her to the ground and digs his teeth in, drinking more. Once he’s drained Alma dry, he comes too, realises he’s killed his daughter & is horrified at what he’s done. Hearing the floorboards creek, he turns to see The Chemist, whom has been watching. She now knows the side effect of the new pill she has given him, he can still write & be as talented as he was on The Muse but instead of feeding on human blood, he must feed on those whom have taken The Muse. She presents Garry with a little black book of all the people who’ve taken it, as Belle & Austin were only a couple of many. Angered, he storms over to her, rip the book out of her hands, when he starts experiencing the same rush he did when he first took The Muse, ideas springing to his head in rapid succession. A glazed look in his eyes, he takes his hands off the book, walks past The Chemist back to his table, opens his laptop, erases his work and starts again, completely unperturbed by what has happened. Smiling, The Chemist goes to dispose of Alma & clean up her mess. The camera cuts to black as the episode ends.

#American Horror Story #American Horror Story: Double Feature #American Horror Story: Red Tide #AHS #AHSFX #Harry Gardner #Alma Gardner #Doris Gardner #The Chemist #Belle Noir #Austin Sommers #Ursula Caan #Tuberculosis Karen #Mickey AHS #Holden Vaughn

[captbenscn]

Home Is Where You Are

@irasciblesoul

“I did warn you it was going to be a mess, El!” She calls out with a laugh when she hears him comment on the obstacle course within her hallway,  Boxes everywhere. Some put together, some not. Some filled, some empty. It was a work in progress and with the long hours she worked, and having a six year old, it wasn’t exactly a quick moving process, but she was trying. She wanted to be moved into his place by at least Thanksgiving and settled for the most part and really, she was just... excited to be there. Excited to spend every day with him. To fall asleep in his arms every night and wake up in them every morning, too. The nights spent without him felt empty. Cold, lonely. 

But now - soon - they wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore. They wouldn’t have to go different homes at night once they were finished with work or finished spending time together, they wouldn’t have to meet up or pick the other up when making plans, they wouldn’t have to worry about sleeping alone any longer. Because now they’d have each other every day and the only separate ways they’d be going is to work, but then they’d come right back home to one another and that thought had Olivia’s heart dancing with joy. Coming home to Elliot. Coming home to Noah. Coming home to her family. And Elliot coming home to his. 

Even Noah was excited. At first he was worried about not having his own room, but thankfully Elliot’s apartment had an extra and he was especially excited to hang out with Eli more. The two were growing close, developing a brotherly bond much how Noah and Elliot were developed a father and son, though things became a little uneasy when it was found out that Eli was stealing, and using, Bernie’s medications. But that was being dealt with and he was being monitored, with progress being made. Especially now that Elliot was back home.

With a sigh, Olivia wipes some sweat from her forehead and pushes aside another full box, marking it as ready to be taped, something to be done later. “And the kitchen isn’t any better either, so don’t expect anything cooked tonight.” She calls out with a smirk, waiting for his smartass response about her cooking - though she’s gotten better, especially since adopting Noah -, but she isn’t met with one. 

Brow quirked, Olivia turns towards her hallway. “El?” She calls out, but again is met with silence. Curious, Olivia moves through the living room and into the hallway which is where she finds him, holding a box that he had pulled from her closet... a box all too familiar to Olivia. One that she packed herself... ten years ago.

One week after Elliot had left.

The memories came flooding back - hitting her mind hard like a train, sending her back to that day that - where she packed his things to move him out of the precinct - made everything feel so real. That made his leaving so... permanent. So final.

Yet here he was, standing in her hallway, helping her pack her things to move in with him. Something else so final, but this time... she welcomed it. This time, she was happy. 

With a deep breath, Olivia makes her way over to him, sad smile pulling on her lips, head tilted as she watches him. “You had a lot of stuff in your desk.” She comments with a teasing smile. “I had to, uh, throw away the candy you had stashed in there, so I hope that’s not what you’re looking for.” She attempts some light-hearted humor, her hand on his shoulder as she sits beside him on the bench, next to the box that’s now between them. 

“I couldn’t ever bring myself to leave any of this behind.” Voice is a whisper now, eyes looking over the items within. Then at him.

“Or you.” 

#i made myself emotional at the end there #especially when i looked up the clip of her packing his things #and now i'm in tears #enjoy the little parallel!! #( Daybreak. | Main ) #irasciblesoul