#Batterie pour Sharp
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meilleurmagasinbatterie · 5 months ago
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Batterie pour Sharp AQUOS 304SH, 2600mAh Sharp UBATIA243AFN1 Batterie Smartphone et Téléphone
Cette batterie pour Sharp UBATIA243AFN1, Capacité 2600mAh/9.8WH, Tension 3.75V, 100% compatibilité HP 6560B 6565B 6470B 6475B 6570B. Toutes Sharp UBATIA243AFN1 batteries a passé les attestations internationales ISO9001, RoHS et de certification CE. Cette Sharp UBATIA243AFN1 Batterie Smartphone et Téléphone a une capacité et une fiabilité plus élevée que la concurrence. Retour de 30 jours! Garantie de 12 mois!
Batterie Pour Sharp AQUOS 304SH, 2600mAh/9.8WH Sharp UBATIA243AFN1 Batterie Smartphone et Téléphone
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Sharp UBATIA243AFN1 Caractéristiques Techniques Marque:Sharp Batterie Smartphone et Téléphone Technologie:Li-ion Capacité:2600mAh/9.8WH Tension:3.75V Politique de Garantie:1 ans de garantie + Retour de 30 jours! Certificats:CE, RoHS et FCC
✔ La Batterie Smartphone et Téléphone Pour Sharp UBATIA243AFN1 est neuve et composée de cellules de qualité. ✔ La Sécurité en Premier: Nos batteries possèdent les certificats de sécurité CE, FCC et RoHS ainsi que diverses précautions de sécurité, notamment une protection contre les courts-circuits, la surchauffe, et la surcharge. Chaque batterie pour Sharp UBATIA243AFN1 a passé les tests en usine. ✔ Elle est 100 % compatible avec votre batterie d'origine. ✔ Les cellules de catégorie A garantissent la plus longue durée de vie et la plus grande stabilité du cycle. 100% Nouveau du fabricant. Jusqu'à 500 cycles de recharge pendant la durée de vie de la batterie. ✔ Clientèle Service: 1 année Garantie Service; 24 x 7 email Soutien; 30 journée Rembourser ou Remplacement.
Compatible Part Numéro: UBATIA243AFN1
Compatible Avec Les Modèles Suivants: Sharp AQUOS 304SH
Maintien De La Durée De Vie De La Batterie Pour réduire l'usure de Batterie, il y a quelques précautions simples à prendre ✔Chargez toujours votre Batterie à 100%. ✔Chargez entièrement une nouvelle Sharp UBATIA243AFN1 Batterie avant sa première utilisation. Déchargez-la ensuite complètement, puis rechargez-la complètement. ✔Évitez la chaleur excessive. ✔Travaillez autant que possible avec l'adaptateur CA branché. ✔Les précautions ci-dessus amélioreront non seulement la durée de vie de la Batterie, mais elle aura également une plus longue autonomie par charge.
DÉCOUVREZ NOS OFFRES SIMILAIRES: 2900/3000mAh (Min/Typ.) Batterie pour OPPO Find 7 X9070 X9077 4230MAH Batterie pour Huawei Ascend P8 Max DAV-703L DAV-713L 3550mah Batterie pour Motorola XT1585 Droid Turbo 2 XT1581 +Tool 2480mAh Batterie pour Motorola Z XT1650-05 2500mAh Batterie pour LG X-Cam EAC63278801 LLL 3200/3300mAh (Min/Typ.) Batterie pour OnePlus Two One Plus Phone Backup +Tools 4.8WH Batterie pour Nokia BP3L LUMIA 710 T-MOBILE 900 ATT 303 ASHA 603 4750mAh Batterie pour Asus ZENPAD 10 Z300C Z300CL Z300CG 10.1
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bellaxgiornata · 2 months ago
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Half of Forever [Three]
Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader Word Count: 4.8k [Series Masterlist]
Warnings/tags: break up, pining, idiots in love, angst with a happy ending
a/n: This is the final part of this little mini series. Enjoy the angst and the happy ending you've all been waiting for! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!
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Stepping off the bus, you were immediately hit with the onslaught of rain heavily beating down on you from above. Ducking your head, you dashed across the sidewalk towards the nearest overhang for temporary shelter. As you darted towards the bodega, your dress shoes splashed water up onto your slacks as you ran through puddle after puddle. 
Breath coming in hard once you'd reached the brief refuge, you took a moment to collect yourself. The rain continued to fall past the overhang, loudly pelting the sidewalk all around you. The handful of passersby toting umbrellas had you instantly wishing you'd grabbed yours before leaving your apartment for work today. But you’d foolishly forgotten to check the weather this morning.
Leaning up against one of the shop’s windows behind you, you heard the crack of thunder far off in the distance. A shiver ran through you, the chilled fabric of your drenched clothing clinging to your skin. Wiping a hand across your wet forehead, you let out a quiet groan as the weight of your predicament hit you.
What a horrible day this had turned out to be.
While you’d been on the city bus making your way home from the office, a storm had rolled in and a downpour had begun. Now standing here and looking out at the large puddles forming along the sidewalks and in the streets, you realized you had a long walk just past the outskirts of Hell's Kitchen and back to your apartment in this mess. All because you'd accidentally missed your actual bus stop, having been too distracted thinking about the reprimand you'd gotten from your boss just before you'd left work today. 
Glancing down at your purse, you began to unzip the main compartment before reaching a hand inside. You pulled out your cell phone, your finger desperately holding down the power button as your eyes stared at the black screen and willed it to turn on. Except you knew it wouldn't because the battery had long since died. You hadn't properly plugged it into the charger when you'd gone to sleep last night, so by the time you'd gotten to work this morning and realized the battery was quite low, it had been too late to do anything about it. Your phone had tragically died in your purse some time before lunch. 
Though realistically it didn’t matter that your phone was dead. It wasn’t like you could have afforded using one of your apps to set up a ride home even if your phone was working. Because unfortunately for you, you'd had the misfortune of falling ill two weeks ago and the unexpected doctor's bill along with the medication you’d needed had wiped out your measly extra bit of emergency cash.
“Goddammit,” you whispered.
Tears building in your eyes, you watched the rain continue to pour down around you as your chest steadily grew tighter and tighter from the stress of the day. The last thing you felt like doing this evening was spending a half an hour walking home in a storm, but you couldn't just stand here waiting beneath the shop’s overhang for it to end, either. You didn't exactly have a choice.
With a sharp exhale, you reluctantly accepted your fate. Pushing away from the window, you grudgingly stepped out from beneath the safety of your covering and straight into the downpour. You willed your legs to move at a speed faster than your usual pace as the rain once more drenched you. Though despite your increased pace, you certainly weren't tempted to run home because you knew it wouldn’t have mattered anyway–you were already soaked to the bone in a matter of seconds.
Ducking your head to avoid the rain drops from further attempting to blind you, you made your way down the sidewalk. Jaw set firmly, you couldn’t help but internally chastise yourself for having missed your stop before internally berating yourself for forgetting to at least grab the small umbrella you usually kept in your purse. You hadn't put it back after the last rainy day when you’d left it out to dry by your front door. 
You’d only managed to make it two blocks while silently fuming to yourself and steadily growing colder in your drenched work clothes before you’d finally become completely overwhelmed. Once more you felt the tears threatening to fall as they welled in your eyes, steadily blurring your vision. This time you didn't think you could hold them back. Gritting your teeth, you rushed towards the nearest overhang on a building up ahead before turning your back to the sidewalk, not wanting the rest of the city to see you publicly breakdown. Burying your face in your hands, you let yourself finally cry.
It felt like things had not been going well for you for a while now–for years if you were being honest–and it felt like today had been the culmination of it all. Your job was awful and barely paid your bills. You hardly had any free time to spend with your friends anymore, and your dating life had only increasingly grown more depressing and lackluster. The apartment you'd once loved you had eventually grown to hate because it held the ghost of Matt everywhere you looked–at your kitchen table, on your couch, in your bed, beneath the spray of your shower.
You should have never come to the city. You should have gone anywhere else instead of giving into your dreams of some brilliant, happy life out here. Some fantastic life full of excitement and love. Because that wasn't the reality of your life in Hell’s Kitchen. Not anymore.
The tears continued to stream down your cheeks, your face still buried against your palms. Biting your bottom lip, you at least attempted to keep your sobs to a volume softer than the rain heavily falling around you and the distant rumbling of thunder. You felt pathetic standing here on the sidewalk crying in a storm in the middle of Hell’s Kitchen.
The sound of your name being called suddenly registered in your ears between your quiet sobs. Your body tensed instantly; you hadn't anticipated anyone approaching you out here let alone someone who apparently knew your name. But when they said your name again, the voice coming from just behind you this time, you knew exactly who had spoken.
Hunching further in on yourself, you felt your heart drop to the ground by your soaked feet. As if your bad day needed to get any worse, now it had. He was the absolute last person you wanted to see right now, the one who haunted your dreams most nights. Roughly wiping the heels of your hands over your eyes, you tried to dry your tears. Because of course if you were going to run into your ex, it had to be when you were embarrassingly at your lowest. Trying to brace yourself for whatever this encounter would do to your already battered heart, you swallowed the lump forming in your throat before cautiously turning around. 
If you thought you'd been prepared to see Matt standing there soaked from the storm, you were certainly wrong. The sight of him in his fitted suit with his hair a damp, dark mess clinging to his forehead hit you like a tidal wave. Beads of rain were sliding down his cheeks, just past his red glasses. The corners of his lips were downturned among a darker scruff of beard than you ever recalled him having back when you’d both been together. Both of his hands were squeezing his cane tight between his fists, his dark dress pants wet and clinging to his thighs that had grown far thicker over the years. 
With trembling lips, your eyes slowly traveled back up to his face, once more meeting the harsh crimson of his lenses. Teeth clamping down harder on your bottom lip, you fought back the sob threatening to spill forth as more hot tears slid down your cheeks. A sharp pain twisted in your chest, right where your heart resided. He’d grown more handsome with age, though that shouldn’t have remotely come as a surprise to you. He'd always been beautiful.
“What–what are you doing here?” he whispered, his dark brows sinking beneath his glasses. “Is something wrong?”
Your own brows dipped together in confusion before you finally looked around you, taking in your surroundings. It didn’t take long for you to realize where you’d accidentally ended up. Turning your head over your shoulder, you spotted the address on the familiar-looking building. It was Matt’s apartment building. Eyelids slowly lowering, you exhaled a sharp, frustrated breath.
“Are you in trouble?” he asked again, concerned. “Did…you need help?”
How utterly embarrassing this whole situation had become. He thought you’d come here on purpose . For his help as Daredevil most likely. Wincing, you slowly returned your attention to his beautiful, worried face. That sharp pain seared straight through you at the sight of him.
“No,” you whispered, an embarrassed heat burning up your neck. “I didn’t realize exactly where I was.”
Matt’s head tilted curiously to the side, his eyebrows still furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?” he asked. “You didn’t come here intentionally? You weren’t looking for me?”
Wincing once more, your eyes dropped down to your wet dress flats as you shook your head. Why couldn’t you have paid more attention to where you were going? Hell’s Kitchen was such a small area and it wasn’t like Matt would have ever left it. You should have been navigating your way home better in the rain so that you wouldn’t end up crying in front of his apartment building.
“No,” you awkwardly admitted. “I was distracted on the bus. Got off on the wrong stop. I wasn’t exactly paying attention to where I was in the storm, I was just trying to get back home.”
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Matt’s shoulders visibly drop at the information. Not entirely sure what to make of that, you kept your gaze averted as a chill ran up your spine. Your wet clothes certainly were not helping this situation.
“Oh,” he breathed out. “I’m sorry. I thought I recognized it was you standing here and I thought that you…nevermind.”
“No, it’s my fault,” you muttered, shaking your head. “Sorry. I–I didn’t mean to bother you by showing up like this. It was entirely an accident.”
An uncomfortable silence fell between the pair of you, that nauseating feeling you remembered from the night when he’d ended things with you years ago rising to the surface and uncoiling in your stomach. After this unexpected encounter, you knew you’d be trying and failing to move on from him all over again. 
“I’m just–just going to go,” you stammered. “I should get back home anyway.”
Gripping your purse straps like a lifeline, you turned in the direction back towards your apartment. Though you’d taken two more steps before Matt called your name over the roar of thunder. You paused, eyes falling shut at the sound of his cane tapping along the sidewalk as you kept your back to him.
“You can’t possibly walk home in this,” he stated. “It’s not safe.”
“I don’t exactly have a choice. My phone’s dead and I don’t have money for a cab anyway,” you confessed awkwardly. “Faster to walk home than anything else at this point.”
You could feel his presence just behind you before you even heard his voice, the hair on the back of your neck prickling at his proximity. Your heart was beating in an agonizing rhythm in your chest with him so near after years of you both being apart. It had been so long since you’d last seen him, since you’d last heard his voice. Every second of this was sheer torture.
“I’ll call you a car,” he offered. “I can pay for it. I can’t have you walk home in this. How much do you need?”
“No, Matt,” you declined, sharply shaking your head. 
Turning back towards him, you were surprised to see he’d already pulled his wallet out of his dress pants, his fingers running over the differently folded bills. A surge of emotion welled up within you at the sight, the feeling becoming almost too much to bear as the tears pricked at your eyes again. He never had much but he was always eager and willing to try and help everyone he could. One of the many things you'd always loved about him. 
“I’m not taking your money,” you told him, fighting the tremor in your voice. “It’s fine. I’ll be fine.”
“Well I can’t let you walk home in this,” he stated again. “I won’t let you.”
A small, sad smile tugged at your lips as you watched a frown form along his own. As a few tears once more snuck their way from the corners of your eyes and burned warm trails down your cheeks, you saw Matt’s hand grip his wallet tighter in his fist.
“What’re you going to do, Matty?” you whispered. “Hold me here against my will?”
His lips thinned out along his face, his dark brows once more pulling together. Ever so subtly you saw him shake his head. With the sad smile still on your face, you nodded slowly.
“Yeah, exactly,” you murmured. “I need to head back home now before this storm gets worse. Goodbye, Matthew.”
Feeling your heart break for a second time, you turned around and stepped out from beneath the overhang on his building and back into the downpour of rain. Ducking your head, you continued down the sidewalk, not even bothering to wipe the tears from your face as they mingled with the drops of rain racing down your cheeks. 
What a horrible day this had turned out to be.
Biting down sharply on your lip, you tried hard to muffle a sob now that Matt was here. But as your heart brokenly beat in your chest, you knew you couldn't hide a damn thing from him behind you. You never could. 
As you took another step forward, something caught your elbow and tugged you backwards. Stumbling in a half turn, your right foot splashed into yet another puddle as you came face to face with Matt. His eyebrows were still tightly knit together, partially lowered beneath his lenses. His mouth was twisted in uncertainty as you stared back at him, your breath catching in your throat. 
“Come up to my apartment,” he offered quietly, releasing your elbow. “You can get out of this storm and I can dry your clothes while you warm up in some blankets.”
Shaking your head slightly at his offer, you knew you'd never be able to accept it. This brief encounter was already painful enough, you didn't want to prolong it any further. 
“No, Matt, I can't just–”
“Please,” he pleaded, cutting you off. “Please just come up.”
You stood there with your lips parted in surprise at the earnestness in his voice. Droplets of rain continued to travel down his cheeks, and you saw one bead of water currently clinging to the tip of his nose, mere moments from falling.
“Matt, I can't,” you repeated. 
“Why?” he demanded, taking another step towards you. “Tell me. Tell me why you can't come up with me.”
You grimaced, your heart clenching tight in your chest as he continued to drag out this encounter. Tears continued to spill forth from your eyes as you stared back at the desperate expression now spread across his handsome face.
“Why are you doing this, Matt?” you whispered. “Can't you tell how much this is killing me right now? Just standing here talking to you? Now you need me to explain why I can’t just go up to your apartment, too? You really need me to–”
“Because it's killing me, too,” he confessed in a rush before you could finish. 
For a second you swore your heart stopped beating at what he'd just admitted. Blinking the rain from your eyes, your mouth fell open in shock. You weren’t entirely sure what to make of that truth, but a part of you began to hope for something right then that you knew you probably shouldn’t. 
“Wh–what?” you breathed out.
“I've thought about you,” Matt began, emotion thick in his words. “Over the years, I've thought about you. I can't–can't stop. I've tried, I really have. But I just…I sometimes feel like your presence is still there,” he continued, gesturing his head towards his apartment building behind him. “On occasion I can try to trick myself into thinking that you are–by ordering your favorite takeout or using that soap you always loved. The one with sage and citrus.”
A hesitant smile spread on Matt’s mouth, something melancholic in the way his lips had only marginally curved upwards. Swallowing the lump that had started to form in the back of your throat, another chill raced up your spine as you stood there in your soaked clothes. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you fought down the shiver that was beginning to lightly run through you.
You’d quite literally often dreamt of this moment with Matt. You'd often hoped that one day you’d run into him again somewhere and he would apologize, tell you that he still thought about you. That he still wanted you. But now that he was saying things you’d always wanted to hear, you didn’t quite know how to react. This moment still felt like one of your many dreams.
“It never works for long, though,” he continued softly, voice just louder than the rain. “Because the scent always fades too fast. And I can’t fake the sound of your heartbeat. I can’t–can’t recreate your scent on my bed sheets or the warmth of your body next to me when I’m trying to fall asleep at night.”
You closed your eyes, pressing your trembling lips together as you tried to staunch the flow of tears. You couldn’t believe what he was telling you. A few years ago he ended the relationship–a relationship that had been going so wonderfully well. Sure, there had been issues, but overall you two had fit so perfectly together and everything had just felt right. You’d talked about a future together–moving in, getting married, and whatever might come next. Until one day, seemingly out of nowhere, he’d just walked away from it all. 
“Then why, Matt?” you whispered, opening your eyes and focusing back on him. With the tears filling your eyes, he’d grown a bit blurry standing there before you. “All those years ago, why did you end things? If you’ve been here all this time feeling exactly like I’ve been feeling for years then…what was the point?”
Matt ducked his head almost shamefully, one hand releasing his cane before rubbing it across his mouth. Nerves swirled in your stomach as another crack of thunder tore through the distance, the rumbling sound accentuating the pause that felt agonizingly long.
“Because I was scared,” he finally confessed, his attention seemingly fixed on the sidewalk–though you knew his senses were fixed on you. “I’d never quite felt how I did for you for anyone else before. One time I thought I did and she…left me. But it wasn’t just a fear of you leaving…” 
Matt trailed off for a moment, growing silent as the rain continued to pour down. Your heart was in your throat as you waited for him to finish his thought.
“It was a fear of who I felt I was becoming when I was with you,” he finished softly. “Of what I thought I was losing.”
Eyes narrowing in confusion at Matt, you squeezed your arms tighter around your shivering body. “What do you mean?”
He raised his head, his rain speckled lenses focusing back on you. “We spent a lot of time together, remember? Specifically in the evenings? Before things ended?”
Gaze averting to the ground, you tried to recall the end of the relationship. He had in fact stayed in more frequently. You remembered sharing meals together after work and taking walks at the park. Scheduling date nights on the weekend and staying up late beneath the sheets. It hadn’t been every night, but he had significantly begun to spend more time with you just before he’d ended the whole thing–which had only added to your confusion at the time.
“Yeah,” you answered, glancing up at him from beneath your lashes. “I remember. But what does that have to do with anything?”
“I feared I was changing into someone else,” Matt answered slowly, taking a hesitant step towards you. “I thought I was losing the other half of myself in our relationship because I had begun to spend less time as Daredevil. So I–I pushed you away to try to prevent myself from fully losing myself. And I used that as an excuse to run from my fear of you leaving me.”
"T hat's what you meant by not being able to be yourself with me?” you asked, everything finally beginning to make sense. “Oh Matthew,” you breathed out, shaking your head. “You were never losing Daredevil. Not at all. You never once stopped helping the people who needed it. The nights someone was in danger or something was happening, you still put on the mask.” 
Licking your lips as you paused, you could taste the salt of your tears among the droplets of rain. A flash of lightning streaked across the sky behind Matt, just above the tops of the buildings. Seconds later, another roar of thunder punctuated the silence.
“What I think you were doing was learning balance in your life,” you told him. “Learning to be both Matthew Murdock and the Devil.”
“I know,” Matt agreed gently, nodding his head. “But I realized that three years too late. And I'm–I'm so sorry for that.”
Swallowing hard, you felt your heart hammering beneath your arms still wrapped around your chest. “And I never wanted to leave you,” you added, voice cracking as you spoke. “You were my forever, Matty. I told you that.”
A muscle visibly jumped in his cheek, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he couldn't decide on a smile or a frown. Taking another hesitant step, Matt closed the gap between you both. Gazing back at his red lenses, you felt your breath begin to come in sharper now that he was right there . 
Without warning his hand reached up, timidly coming to cup your cheek in his palm. As if on instinct, you leant back into his warm touch, the feel of it sending a shudder through you for a reason other than the contrast from the cold. His thumb softly swept outwards, gently brushing away a few teardrops from your cheek. You felt like you couldn't breathe as the pad of his thumb afterwards began to affectionately stroke a line along your cheekbone. 
“Please come up,” he begged. “Let me help you.”
Eyes closing, you tried to focus on formulating a thought. But it was hard to think with him touching you, with him pleading for you to let him help you. Inhaling a breath, you'd been about to respond, but then you felt him lightly press his damp forehead to yours and your eyes flew open.
He was so close. His hot breath was falling against your lips as it left his own parted ones. The sensation was dizzying, making it hard to focus on almost anything else. Beneath the arms still tightly wrapped around your chest, you could feel your heart accelerating to a worrying speed.
“We can talk,” he told you. “About everything. I have more to apologize for, I know. I just–just want to fix the mess I made. If it's not too late.”
Exhaling a slow breath, you let his words wash over you like the rain itself, cleansing the years worth of pain that lingered in your heart. Gradually you nodded against his forehead, catching the way he sucked in a sharp breath at the little movement. 
“Okay,” you whispered. “I'll come up.”
With the way your eyes had been fixed on his lips, you caught the faint smile that slipped onto his mouth the second it did. Something shot through you like a bolt of electricity at the sight of it. Matt's nose affectionately and timidly bumped yours, a small gesture that brought a rush of feelings straight to the surface along with a confession that bubbled right out of your mouth.
“I missed you,” you whispered. “So much.”
“I missed you, too, angel,” he murmured, thumb brushing away another tear along your cheek. “I've never stopped missing you.”
Matt shifted his head, his lips accidentally grazing yours as he did. A soft whine you had no control over snuck out of you, the sound drawing another sharp inhale from Matt as his nostrils flared. Your hands curled into fists against your body as he leaned in, just barely touching his lips to yours. Eyelids slowly falling shut once more at the feel of his breath washing over you, you sighed in frustration when his mouth still remained at a distance.
“ Matt .” 
You breathed out his name like a plea, your fingernails digging into the palms of your hand. It was quickly becoming far too difficult not to touch him.
“Tell me you haven't thought about this, too,” Matt nearly demanded. “Tell me you don't want me. Just one ‘no’ and I won't–”
Losing control, your hands flew away from your sides and landed on Matt's soaked suit coat, balling the wet material in your fists. “Yes,” you answered him. “I'm telling you yes , Matthew.”
There was a moment, a brief one, where Matt’s face hovered in the space just before yours. Your breath was coming in sharp and hard as you watched him, aware he was probably reading your body for whatever he needed to hear. You knew the exact moment he'd found what he was looking for because his expression shifted just before he launched himself forward at you. 
Stumbling backwards into the wall of the building behind you at the force of Matt's enthusiasm, your eyes snapped shut the second his mouth was on yours. Hands snaking their way up his chest, you wrapped your arms around his neck and tangled your fingers in the damp strands of his hair. You pulled him flush to the front of yourself with a faint gasp, his soaked body deliciously heating the front of your freezing and drenched one.
Matt's hand on your cheek held you in place against the brick wall behind you, tilting your mouth to the exact angle for him to easily connect his lips to yours over and over in a heated passion. The pair of you struggled to catch your breath each time he pulled away, your gasping breaths loud in your own ears despite the storm still raging. His other hand landed on your hip, roughly grabbing it as he kissed you. You could feel the way it shook against you, as if he was struggling not to do more than just hold you there. 
“I’m so sorry, angel,” he whispered against your lips.
His mouth was immediately back on yours, relentless in his determination to make you feel just how apologetic he was. Your own mouth was hungrily matching his pace, the rain forgotten as you tried to express the longing you'd been tormented by every single day since he'd left you. 
Fingers gripping his hair, you took advantage of the seconds in between kisses. “Don’t you dare–” you broke off as his mouth slammed back onto yours again, “–break my heart again, Matthew,” you finished when he pulled back.
Matt paused at your words, breathing hard as he gazed back at you, the rain continuing to wash over the both of you. Nearly out of breath yourself, you couldn't help but admire how perfect he looked standing there completely soaked with his flushed cheeks and the small smile gracing his swollen lips.
“Never,” he promised. “I hate myself for ever hurting you like that. And it’ll never happen again, I promise you that. The pain of those last three years was torture. Punishment. And I promise we'll talk, angel, we will, but…”
His voice trailed off and your eyes darted back to his lips. The lips you missed, the lips that brought you comfort in a way nothing else ever had. In that moment you understood him completely.
“But not right now,” you agreed.
Yanking him back towards you with the hand still tangled in his hair, you swallowed the resulting soft growl of his down, kissing him with all the longing that you'd bottled inside for the past three years. Matt didn't hesitate to match your passion and enthusiasm as he pressed you further into the brick behind you, your back arching into him just as another rumble of thunder tore through the night. 
What an unexpected day this had turned out to be.
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Matt Murdock One Shot/Shorts Tag List: @pazii @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @yeonalie @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @wkndwlff @leikelle @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @marvelcinematiquniverse @carstairswife @stilldreaming666 @kiwwia-wiwwia @willwork4dilfs @will-delete-this-later-probably @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @theetherealbloom @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @ladywholikesreading @millennial-birkin @tartbeanpuzzles @harleycao @sunflower-tia @gamingfeline @juskonutoh @kezibear @ninacotte @withyoutilltheendoftheline @justanerd1 @scriptedmoon @ardent-crow @lucienofthelakes @sarahskywalker-amidala @flowher @loves0phelia @a-half-empty-g1rl @zomtart @justvalkyrie @steve-chandler  @islayhawkin @slyregg
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loveharlow · 8 months ago
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SEVEN - 006
PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader
SYNOPSIS‧₊˚[7.4k] based on 1x06.
WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, mild violence, gun violence/graphic depictions of gun use, mentions of drowning, arguing, entrapment, references to mild bullying
NOW PLAYING‧₊˚
A/N‧₊˚ Idk if y'all can tell but I be eatin the kie x sarah x reader drama up when i'm writing like it's too fun to write
˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗
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“SORRY, YOU’RE STAYING WHERE?” Kiara asked grabbing a tray of food as John B leaned against the counter and you trailed behind her with a pitcher of drinks. The Wreck had opened for the day not too long ago.
“Tannyhill.” He said shortly, eyes wide and unexpecting as he leaned his forearms on the counter.
“So, you’re living with Sarah Cameron.” Kie said with a tight-lipped grimace. 
“Look, the only reason I’m living there is ‘cause her dad bailed me out, alright?” The Routledge boy reassured, following you both out to the table where JJ and Pope were lounging inside of The Wreck. “And it’s way better than foster care which, by the way, is where I was about to go.”
“So, do you have membership to the clubs now?” Pope perked up curiously, legs kicked up on the wooden surface. Kiara sat the tray of fries down while you poured the drinks into each respective cup before taking a stand behind JJ’s chair that was next to Pope’s, leaning your arms over it as you bent nonchalantly behind him, stealing a fry from his hand over his shoulder.
“I don’t know, Pope.”
“What about those golf carts they drive around? You get one of them?” He questioned again, amusement in his brown eyes. “Does it come with a sweater vest or do you have to buy one of your own?”
“Look, you promised.” Kiara cut in disappointedly, returning back to the original topic of conversation. “You said you weren’t with her…” John B just shrugged as if he wasn’t caught in a lie.
“Bro, just own it. She’s got you.” JJ scoffed. 
Kiara just ignored the blonde. “If you wanna hang out with her, that’s fine. But I’m letting you know that I’m not doing anything with Sarah.” She continued on, affirming the boy. 
“Do you guys see her here?” JB cut in shortly, annoyed. “No? Right, okay. A little focus would be fantastic. We’ve got the map, right?”
“It’s out of whack ‘cause the guy was ganja’d when he drew it.” JJ piped in. 
“It’s more so due to the fact that the coast has changed.” You offered, looking down at the blonde. “But it deffo looks like he drew it after ingesting a whole eddie and downing half a bottle of Everclear.”
“We just have to look for the landmarks that haven’t changed.” Pope spoke to no one in particular as he surveyed the map. 
“What about the old forts?”
“Battery Jasper.” Kiara threw out with full confidence. Pointing to a clear spot on the map in the middle of absolutely nowhere. Looks were shared around the table before everyone shrugged, you all hopping up and heading outside of The Wreck and into The Twinkie.
“WE’RE IN BATTERY, RIGHT HERE.” Pope had the map pressed up against a rock, still reading it as the remaining four of you looked out at the expanse of land in front of you. Nothing but grass and trees for miles. “So if this is parcel nine, then it’s somewhere northeast of here. Over there.” He concluded, pointing ahead.
“That’s not Tannyhill,” JJ began, squinting his eyes. “That’s a subdivision.”
“Tannyhill Plantation was the entire island.” John B told him. “Over time, it got sold into smaller pieces.”
“So we’re looking for an old stone wall…” Pope pondered, heading back into the van without a word. The rest of you simply followed, loading into the van with JB as the driver and following Pope’s verbal lead. “The road should split up here. You’re gonna take a left.” He said after a few minutes of driving.
John B made an unnecessarily sharp left turn, sending the three of you in the backseat flying against the wall of the Twinkie. After a few curses and groans, you looked to see what was stone wall. “This is it.” Pope claimed.
“Are you kidding me?” Kiara exclaimed, hopping out of the van as the rest of you followed. Looking up at the house, it was immediately recognizable.
“The Crain House?” You asked incredulously, eyes wide and jaw slack.
“Worst-case scenario.” JJ quipped. “I heard that Mrs. Crain buried her husbands head on the property.”
“Honestly, I don’t really believe the stories about this place.” John B shrugged, taking the first step and leading the group through the thick mess of greenery that led up to the house itself. You were constantly swatting leaves and branches out of your field of vision as you walked.
“Which stories did you hear?” JJ inquired.
“The one where she killed her husband with an axe and that she’s been holed up ever since.” Kiara replied. “On certain nights, when the moon is full, you can see her in the windooow.” She teased, wiggling her fingers in a spooky motion. 
“Okay, it’s not funny ‘cause it’s all true. I swear to God, guys, this is all real. I knew Hollis.” JJ preached. 
“Hollis Crain? The daughter?” You asked, tilting your head in his direction as you dodged a branch. 
“Yeah. She was my babysitter.” He told you, holding up the next branch for you to walk under, releasing it just in time to swat Pope in the forehead. “She told me all about it. About her mother, what happened in the house. As a kid, she heard all these stories about how her mother had killed her father. Hollis didn’t believe it. Until that night…” He trailed off.
You groaned at his dramatics, stopping in your tracks to cross your arms and shift your weight. “What night?” You asked, feeding into JJ’s theatrics.
“When Hollis was six years old, she heard her parents arguing downstairs. So, she goes down there to see her mom washing her hands in a sink full of blood. Her mother says she just cut her finger. Next morning? She says her father and her split up. But then, Hollis noticed something — her mother going in and out of the parlor constantly, hands full of plastic bags. Weeks pass and Hollis decides to use the outhouse. And as she’s using it, she looks down, and there, in the outhouse, is her father’s head looking straight back at her.”
“...You are so full of shit.” John B protested, throwing his head back and walking off.
“Wait! Dude…” JJ grabbed his best friend by the shoulder. “You sure you wanna do this? She’s an axe murderer and… you got a cast on.” 
“I don’t give a shit, JJ.” John B said angrily. “I’ve got nothing to lose, right?” He threw the blonde’s words back at him. “You guys comin’ or what?” He spat before continuing his journey further onto the Crain property, the rest of you reluctantly following.
Stopping in what seemed to be a garden just a handful of feet from the front door, John B turned around. “Here's the plan. We need to look for the wheat near the water, like it said in Denmark’s Letter.”
“What kind of water? Like, pond water?” Pope replied.
JJ chuckled. “Bong water?” He tried to joke. John B just twisted his face and ignored at his childish tactics.
“Look, I don’t know, just look for water.” He demanded before continuing to lead the group. He crept around the foundation of the house, crouching in front of a small entrance that led under the structure. “C’mon, it’s the only place we haven’t looked.” He urged the four of you, turning on his flashlight and crawling through the entrance as the rest of you piled in, single-file behind him.
You coughed as you stood to your full height and dust filled your lungs. The crawlspace was filthy, smelly, and festering with mosquitos. You clicked on your mini flashlight, scanning the space. 
“There’s not even water on the pipes.” JJ judged, rubbing his palm against the pipes that were so dry, the interaction sounded like nails on sandpaper. 
“There’s not a drop of water here...” Pope said, irritated.
“Know why we didn’t find it?” Kie sighed, turning her sights to John B. “Bad karma.”
“God, here we go…” JB rolled his eyes.
“We had a good thing going. And then you decide to rope in Barbie and now, trail’s gone dry. Coincidence? I don't think so.” The brown-haired girl mouthed-off. 
“This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you about Sarah. What the hell’s the deal with you two?” Then his eyes landed on you, standing a few feet behind Kie between Pope and JJ who were also listening in on the not-so-hushed conversation. “You three.”
“I just got bit by three fatass mosquitos, I’d like to opt out of this particular conversation-” You spoke with a snarl, swatting another mosquito that flew across your vision as Kie’s voice sounded out again, cutting off yours.
“Nothing’s the deal.” She spat, offended.
“Is it because I kissed you? Is that your problem?” John B’s head whipped to the side when Kiara’s palm made harsh contact with his cheek, the remaining three of you making simultaneous ‘O’ faces of shock from the sidelines. 
“Stop treating me like I’m some girl who’s obsessed with you instead of your best friend who’s actually trying to look out for you.” She reprimanded sternly.
“Did you, uh, hit me?” John B grimaced, turning back to face her. Kiara simply held up her right hand, her backs to the three of you.
“Skeeter.” Was all she said.
“Skeeter?”
“Yeah.” Then John B was slapping her back. You threw your hands up in the air as Pope exclaimed and JJ chuckled at the two.
“Woah, hey!” Pope threw out, then John B was holding up his right hand, this time with his palm on display since he was facing you all, presenting a flattened mosquito stuck to his palm. 
“Skeeter.” He retorted firmly, eyes squinted. They started playfully slapping each other’s faces and arms back and forth as the remaining portion of you went back to looking once the show had ended. You flashed your light up and down, side to side but still nothing. And the mosquitos were eating you from the inside out…
Mosquitos. 
Why were there so many mosquitos in a basement? 
Aiming your flashlight down, you started tapping the toe of your foot lightly against the ground, catching a certain blonde’s attention.
“Tap dancing, are we?”
“No. Mosquitos.” You dismissed him in your focus, stepping up onto a wooden platform and tapping your foot on top of it. It sounded hollow. You paused, kneeling on top of the structure and knocking on it, still hearing that same hollowed-out echo. 
“Yes, princess, there are mosquitos everywhere.”
You sighed, shining your light through the crack in the planks but it was pitch black. “Mosquitos swarm near water.” You told JJ. “Still water. They need it to hatch eggs. So, why would so many mosquitos be in a basement with seemingly no water?” You almost sounded like you were talking to yourself with the way you were mumbling, looking for something small, your sights landed on a small pebble in the gravel under the house, picking it up before dropping it through a space between the wood. Planting your ear against the ground, you waited, until seconds after dropping the stone, you heard water splash.
“You find somethin’?” JJ asked, you being unaware that he was still watching you. You turned to him with your full attention now.
“Help me move this.” You whispered to him, already starting to pull the planks up in a frenzy. The other three pogues seemed to notice that the two of you had found something and started to help move the planks until a good chunk of them were out of the way.
The five of stared down as a well stared back at you, a least a couple dozen feet deep. 
“Well, well, well…” Pope muttered in the ring of silence.
“That was a good dad joke.” John B told him, never taking his eyes off the well, a smirk breaking out on his features. “We’re gonna need a really big rope.”
“NO FUCKING WAY.” Kiara spat, pacing the patio of The Chateau — Sarah Cameron was sat next to John B, presenting as unbothered as ever. You sat on the farthest cushion right across from JJ and Pope. “You brought her here? So what? She’s in on this now?”
John B looked to his two guy friends for help, Pope simply shrugging his shoulders and muttering an ‘I dunno’ before JJ threw his hands out. “All I care about is her cut coming out of your share.” He directed at JB, pointing his finger for emphasis. 
“This is our thing.” Kiara scolded, pointing to everyone but Sarah to further prove her point. 
“I’m just a tad uncomfortable with this…” Pope added. 
“When are you not uncomfortable?” John B tried to defend the blonde girl.
“I rode here on the back of JJ’s bike pretty comfortably.” The curly-haired boy sassed back from JJ’s side. 
“It’s true. Most relaxed I’ve ever seen him.” 
“We were all comfortable until you brought her.” Kiara shot out, not making eye contact with Sarah, who had finally had enough.
“Stop talking about me like I’m not here!” Was the first thing the blonde girl had said since her arrival.
“I mean, you could always go home. Just a thought…” You spoke nonchalantly, shrugging from your seat across the patio. Sarah eyed you meanly before looking at John B, scoffing.
“I told you.” Your eyes squinted and your head tilted to the side.
“Told him what, exactly? That your a liar?” Kiara argued before Sarah’s attention whipped around to her.
“No, that you’re a shit-talking bitch.” She told Kie, turning to you next. “And you’re a lying slut.”
Chaos broke out — voices over voices, JJ and Pope betting money as the three of you argued over one another.
“When have I ever lied to you, Kiara?!”
“You get somebody close to you for like a month and then completely turn your back on them-”
“I’m a slut? I’m sorry, how many boyfriends have you cheated on? This year alone?-”
“Everybody, shut up!” John B stopped the arguing. “Kie, Y/n, you are my best friends, right?” Both of you just looked away, giving him his answer but not the satisfaction of hearing it. “And Sarah, you’re…”
“...Say it.” She said, a sly smile on her face.
“...You’re my girlfriend.” John B proclaimed, a boy-ish grin on his face. You couldn’t help but groan and throw your head back, all eyes turning to you as you brought your angry gaze back down.
“You met her like three whole days ago, John B.” You fussed, crossing your arms over one another. “What happened to using her for information? And I quote ‘getting what we need and cutting her loose’?”
“...You said you were using me?” Sarah asked her “boyfriend” sadly. 
John B shook his head in the smallest of motions, avoiding her eyes at all costs. “No.”
“Yeah, you did.” Pope refuted his claim. “You said those things...”
“Look, love just walked in, okay?” He tried to reason with you all but you couldn’t help but laugh bitterly.
“Three days!” You laughed out. 
“I didn’t expect it, it just kind of happened. And I’m not gonna deny it.” He continued, ignoring you. 
“Well,” you got up from your seated position, hands slapping your knees. “If Clueless is in, count me out.” You told him, hands in your back pockets. 
He shrugged like a child. “I’m not choosing, if that's what you're getting at.” He stated bluntly. You nodded your head, biting the inside of your cheek and looking around before deciding to walk off, heading for the dock.
“JUST CONSIDER IT.” JJ threw out the idea from his place beside you, leaning against the wood of the pier in front of The Chateau, Kiara and Pope having a separate conversation in front of you.
“I’m not considering anything, JJ.”
“You don’t have to like it. None of us do. But John B isn’t willing to choose and we can’t do this without you.”
“John B clearly can. He knew how we felt about her and he did everything we advised him not to do.” You snarled, looking out at the water. “None of you know her, not really. You think I just up and decided to hate Sarah Cameron one day? No.” You scoffed. “She creates a false sense of security and then when you start to rely on her, she uses it all against you.”
You both sat in silence, JJ not wanting to question you any further for the moment.
“What if he chooses her?” JJ asked you after a couple moments passed. You brought your eyes back to his, wind blowing your hair in your field of vision, voice small as you spoke.
“Then he’s a worse friend than I thought he was.”
YOU DECIDED TO MAKE YOUR WAY HOME AFTER WHAT WENT DOWN WITH JOHN B. You didn’t intend on making him choose between you or Sarah but you felt as if this whole thing had spiraled out of control. Maybe the biggest part was that you felt lied to. He promised there was nothing happening between them and when it came down to it, he couldn’t even make a decision between two of his life-long best friends and a girl he met less than a week ago. Something behind his logic, or lack of, struck a nerve within you. 
Opening the front door to your Figure Eight home, you were greeted with two muddy paws against your thighs.
“Aww, Marley!” You exclaimed, throwing your hands out to the sides. “What did you get into?” You shook your head, patting the stains on your denim shorts as you kicked the door closed behind you and walked to peer out of the patio door, seeing holes galore in the backyard. You looked down at the animal, hand on your hip. “You know, she’s gonna flip.” You told the dog as if she could reply back.
Her fur was covered in brown and black, muddy paw prints left behind by her pattering feet. You just sighed, bending down to scratch the top of her head as she leaned into your hand. “Guess it’s my fault for leavin’ you. I’d go crazy if I was stuck here alone with her, too. C’mon,” You threw your head out in the direction of the garage door. “Let’s hose you off so I can cover your tracks.”
You started walking but stopped when you didn’t hear Marley trailing behind you. You peered back over your shoulder to see her sitting patiently. “No, absolutely not.” Was your reply to her pleading puppy-eyes, a whine leaving her closed lips. “I am not picking you up, Marley. You’re a big girl, c’mon.” The golden retriever made no move. “I’ll give you a treat after. You wanna a treat, girl?” 
Her ears perked up in the slightest of motions and suddenly the medium-sized dog was sprinting towards you, basically running into the garage door that was still closed. You just giggled, opening the door for her to run out and hop into the metal tub in the parking space that was bought especially for her. Tying your hair back and grabbing the length of the hose, you started to hose down your mess of a dog.
YOU WERE SOAKED BY THE END OF MARLEY’S BATH. You smelled of Pumpkin Spice pet shampoo and wet dog, strands of golden hair stuck to your arms and legs as you rinsed out the tub and let it flow down the driveway. The dog in question was probably running a muck in your room where you’d locked her so you could clean up in peace — covering up the holes in the backyard to the best of your ability and mopping the floors. 
Once the dog-tub was water-free, you kicked it back to it’s original position in the corner of the garage. The sound of your mother’s SUV pulling up into the driveway could be heard as you turned the hose off and put it away. She must not have seen you in the dark of the garage as she got out of the car, heels hitting the concrete as she slammed the driver’s side door shut. Her cell phone was pressed between her shoulder and ear and she fought to get her purse up onto her arm.
“I don’t care what you do, Cameron. Or how you do it for that matter. Just do something because this is both of our asses on the line.” She spat to whoever was on the other end of the line — Cameron? Maybe it was a new hire at the office.
Her eyes shot up and seemed to finally register your presence, a look of shock filling her features for a moment before it faded into something else. Something more irritated. “We’ll talk about this later. Hopefully, you’ll have gotten rid of the problem by then.” Was all she said before hanging up.
You had turned back around at this point, focused on putting Marley’s bath supplies back into their respective cabinets and shelves. 
“I didn’t expect you home.”
“Neither did I.” You replied bluntly.
“You know, it’d be nice if you could be home more often. You still have responsibilities, and that dog does whatever it wants.”
You stood to your full height, facing her now as you crossed your arms. “I could say the same for you.”
She scoffed, shifting her weight. “I have work. A job. You just run around with your delinquent friends all day and night. Your room is empty for days on end.”
You shrugged, jutting your bottom lip out. “What are you lonely, or something? We barely talk when I am home.”
“You want to talk? Let’s talk.” She crossed her own arms, staring you down.
“Not really-”
“I heard John B had a pretty nasty fall from The Hawk’s Nest last night and you and your friends were there.” You veered your neck back at her statement, a look of offense written across your face.
“What’re you keeping tabs on me now?” 
She just shrugged and shifted, pointing her chin towards the ceiling as if she knew she had you cornered. “Word travels fast on the island. The real question is what were you kids doing up there in the middle of a thunderstorm? Everything I hear about that little posse of yours is dangerous.”
All you could was laugh humorlessly, pushing yourself off of the garage wall and heading for the door back inside of the house. “I’m not doing this with you.” You told the woman, shaking your head. 
“Answer the question, Y/n!” She called after you, following you into the three-story house and slamming the garage door closed behind her.
“No! I’m covered in mud, water, and dog hair and you’re pissing me off!” You were practically stomping up the stairs. “Everytime I come back to this house you interrogate me. Calling my friends delinquents as if these aren't kids you’ve known for years!”
“Well, clearly I have good reason to-” You stopped at the top of the stairs, turning and staring down at your mother who was still at the bottom, making no moves to follow you up. 
“Maybe it’s time I question you because I have a fair few of my own.” You spat. “How did you find about the Hawk’s Nest because there were only six of us there when it happened? When did you and Shoupe get all buddy-buddy? Or better yet, how’d you manage to scrape up the money to buy a house on Figure Eight so suddenly? And don’t think I’m dumb enough to believe my father’s life insurance was enough to cover it.”
She didn’t say anything. Anything at all. Your mother just stared up at you with a look on her face that you’d never seen before it. It was angry, dark — borderline evil. It made your heart thump out of your chest and your knees get weak. It was a look that a parent should never direct at their child. 
With one last glare, you turned your back and went into your own bathroom to clean yourself up, not neglecting to slam the door behind you.
YOU SIGHED AS YOU HOPPED FROM THE HMS POGUE ONTO HEYWARD’S BOAT. After your shower, Pope had picked you up from the short pier in the back of your house with Kie lounging in the boat. He said something about JJ and John B needing a tow after conking out in the middle of The Marsh.
Approaching Heyward’s boat that was still in the middle of The Marsh, you and Kie edged towards the front of the HMS Pogue, preparing to step off. Extending your legs, you made it onto the other boat without fail, Kiara following you into the Alp where the two boys in question were.
“What did you do?” You asked annoyed, still reeling from the events of earlier — both of them. 
“The alternators not…alternating, anymore.” JJ told you, throwing his hands out. 
“Did you check the plugs?” Kiara suggested, stepping in front of you and approaching the boys as you leaned on the entryway. 
“No, you should check ‘em. Give ‘em whirl.” They handed her whatever tool they’d been using, stepping away.
“You guys are useless…” You let the two guys walk by you, stepping further into the space with Kie. “Uh, is this a joke? There are no plugs, like at all.” She muttered.
Suddenly, you heard water splashing, turning around and walking back out to see that JJ and John B had jumped into the water and were swimming towards the HMS Pogue that was getting farther and farther away.
“What’re you-” You started, cut off by the sound of banging coming from below the deck of the boat.
“John B! John B, let me out!” Came an unmistakable voice. In a haste, you lifted the hatch in the floor, coming face to face with Sarah Cameron. Not giving her time to speak, you just huffed and ran towards the edge of the boat.
“What the fuck?!” You yelled at the three boys across the water, Kiara and Sarah on each side of you now. Both equally as angry as you. “Are you serious?” 
“Get your asses back here!” Kiara demanded.
“We can’t!” Pope shrugged with a sly smile. “Not until you three work out your issues!”  
“You can’t just leave!” Sarah tried.
“There’s food in the cabin and JJ rolled a blunt!” John B shouted back. The three of you ignored them, kicking off your overalls and stripping down to your bikinis.
“This is ridiculous…” The blonde girl muttered under her breath, kicking her shorts off of her ankles.
“Well, I’d rather drown than be here with you, so…” Kiara retorted, taking her shirt off. 
“Fine. Be my guest. Maybe you’ll finally shut the hell up.” Sarah shot back. 
“You don’t even know where you’re going.” The two girls continued arguing as the three boys drifted farther away.
“I don’t care.” Was all the Cameron girl said back before jumping into the Marsh water, just as Pope revved up the engine on the smaller boat and they sped away. Sarah cursed them before turning around and swimming back to the boat, screaming and going under before popping back up.
“Ah! I got stung by a jellyfish! Shit!” She cried, still swimming back to the boat.
You rolled your eyes and turned away from her, fixing the ties on your swim suit. “Maybe next time don’t jump into The Marsh.” You reprimanded meanly.
“Thanks for the advice, after the fact.” She retorted, climbing onto the boat and sliding against the side.
“It’s not like you listen anyway...” You shrugged, leaning against the boat. 
“Kiara, you know what they say about curing jellyfish stings,” Sarah ignored you, talking through heavy breaths and looking up at the brown-haired girl. “You have to pee on me.”
The girl simply cringed. “I have a better idea.”
NIGHT HAD FALLEN AND YOU WERE SURE THE GUYS WEREN’T COMING BACK FOR THE THREE OF YOU ANYTIME SOON. The night air was cool and Sarah was high off of the weed left behind, courtesy of JJ himself. She’d been laughing and talking about nothing non-stop for the last hour.
Kie was sat next to her in the cockpit of the boat while you sat on the hardtop, swinging your feet.
“Hey,” Sarah piped up, interrupting her own giggling. “Would you rather…have, I was imagining you like this just now, it was pretty funny.” She was directing the question at Kiara. “Would you imagi- would you rather…have nipples for eyes or have eyes for nipples? Imagine if you get really old and your nipples, your boobs get saggy, your nipples, if they were your eyes, you could see if your shoes were untied.” 
She attempted to laugh it off in her impaired state but took the hint when Kie gave her a side glance, no humor present in her expression. “Is this like your first time smoking or something?” 
“...No.” Sarah said lowly, looking down.
“Could’ve fooled me.” You muttered, annoyed by the girls incessant laughter and talking. 
After a couple moments of tense silence, Sarah attempted to speak again. “Hey, Kiara…”
“Oh my God.” She cut her off. “Enough the ‘Hey, Kiara’ bullshit.” She turned her entire body to face the blonde, a hard look in her eyes. “Why’d you do it?”
“...Why’d I do what?” Sarah played dumb.
“We were best friends.” Kiara started solemnly. “We stole beers from your dad’s fridge, we watched movies together, we cried about boys...” She reminisced. “And the next thing I know, the entire school thinks I have a crush on you because you started a rumor that I did.”
“It was just a joke.” Sarah tried to dismiss, rolling her eyes.
“To who? Because it wasn’t funny for me. And when it spun out of control? When it went from people saying I had a crush on you to saying I tried to kiss you? To saying I was stalking you? That I had a shrine? Was it still just a joke then?” She reprimanded. “You never even bothered to clear it up. Just fed into it. You just cut me off like nothing happened. I mean, really, what did I do?”
You continued watching the interaction happen from the hardtop of the boat. “You liked me.” Sarah blurted. “...When people get close to me, I feel trapped. And…I bail. And then I blame them for it.” She got out, turning to look Kiara in the eyes. “I’m really sorry…And I miss you.” Then her eyes were on you. “Both of you. Do you think there’s a chance that we could be okay again?” She was looking at Kiara again.
“Honestly. I don’t know.” Sarah simply nodded and bit her lip, accepting the answer before turning her sights to you once more. 
“Y/n?” She called. You assumed she was waiting for your answer to the same question, all you could manage was a huff of air to leave your lips. 
“What a bunch of bullshit.” You breathed out, an incredulous smile on your face as you looked away for moment. You could hear Kiara sigh.
“Y/n-”
“No, Kiara. If you want to forgive her, by all means be my guest. But me and you?” Your eyes were on Sarah, glaring at her. “We will never be ‘okay’ again.” You mocked.
“What do you want from me?” Sarah spat out. “I apologized-”
“You apologized to Kie. Not me.”
“Well, I’m sorry. For…whatever I did.” She slurred, slouching further against the inside of the boat.
“Whatever you did?”
“You were the one sneaking around with my brother, Y/n!”
“And you're still downplaying the situation! That’s not what happened nor is it why our friendship ended and you know it.” You disputed, anger filling your tone.
“Our friendship ended because you tried to make the situation into something it wasn’t.”
“You never even considered the possibility that what I told you was true. You called me a liar, turned me into the school slut-”
“He’s my brother.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s not a bad person, Sarah!” You said with finality in your voice. “And if you can’t see that, then maybe that makes two of you.” Was the last thing you said before hopping down from the top of the boat and disappearing around the corner, away from the two girls. 
THE THREE OF YOU SAT ON THE EDGE OF THE BOAT, WATCHING THE BOYS ARRIVE AS THE SUN CAME UP. You’d slept in the helm of the boat while Kiara and Sarah slept out in the open. You hated to admit how lonely you felt hearing them giggle in the middle of the night but it was quickly overshadowed by the memories of what was said between you and Sarah. A small part of you wondered how Kiara could forgive her so quickly. So easily.
“Let’s not give them the satisfaction of thinking this worked.” Kiara whispered to the blonde next to her. You simply kept quiet. Because for you, it didn’t.
“So, did you guys, you know…” Pope led on as the smaller boat parked next to the bigger one. You said nothing as you hopped off the edge, from one boat to the other. 
“Reconcile our differences?” Kie finished for him.
“Nope. Not even a little.” Sarah shook her head. “But we’re…willing to work together?” She said, turning to Kiara who nodded in agreement as they both stepped onto the HMS Pogue. 
“You know what? That’s victory.” JB cheered, dapping up Pope. “You guys ready to jack some loot?”
YOU ALL WAITED UNTIL IT GOT DARK ONCE MORE TO RETURN TO THE CRAIN PROPERTY, FULL PREPARED THIS TIME. Rope, pulley, flashlights. You were equipped with the gold-mine starter kit and ready to throw John B down into a well beneath a murder-house.
Parking in front of the house but still out of sight, John B hopped out of the driver’s side to round the van and open the side door, pausing. “I wanna say thank you guys. Seriously.” He told the five of you whole-heartedly. “It means a lot to me that you’re here tonight.”
“Of course, man.” Pope assured him softly, giving him a special handshake. 
“All right, we done with this circle jerk?” JJ cut in. “Can we go do this?” 
“Let’s go get that wheat in the water.” Pope exclaimed, jumping out of the van first, followed by Kie, then Sarah.
“Weed? I’m up for weed.” JJ said, letting you get out before him. You rolled your eyes, a small smile breaking on your face as you climbed out of the van. The first one in hours.
“Wheat, J. He said wheat.” You corrected. You all formed a sort of single-file line, hopping the fence one by one. You all walked as quietly as you could through the tall grass and bushes, sticking as close together as possible. Out of the blue, a light in front of the house lit up your frames, the six of you scrambling to duck and hide, turning your flashlights off.
“Why would a blind lady need motion sensor lights?” You hissed frustratedly confused. 
“Let’s throw a rock at it.” John B offered. You all looked at him stupidly.
“That’s a really good idea. Let the axe murderer know that we’re here.” Kiara said sarcastically. 
“Do any of you have a better idea?” 
“What about the breaker in the circuit box on the porch?” Sarah asked. “We used to play hide-and-seek here as kids and if we were brave enough, we’d go all the way up to the porch.”
“No, no, you’re not going into the house alone.” John B protested.
“I’ll go with you.” Kiara volunteered herself before turning to you. You simply raised a brow as if to ask ‘what?’. Only then did you notice that the rest of the group was staring at you as well, then you got the hint, smacking your teeth.
“Christ, fine, I’ll go, too. Just… stop looking at me like hungry orphans.” You mumbled, getting up and walking towards the house, slightly crouched.
“We’ll wait for your signal!” Pope whisper-shouted as the three of you disappeared into the thick of the bushes. You let Sarah lead the way, seeing as she had an idea of where you were going and what you were looking for.
“She must have a generator plugged into the main power supply.” Sarah informed from the front of the line. The three of you crept up the porch steps, the wood creaking ever so slightly as you did. You aimed your flashlight at the circuit box in question, using your empty hand to open it. You quickly noted a problem.
“Where are the breakers?” Your face twisted in confusion, visually following the wires that were connected to the box. “It goes inside.” You said annoyed, pushing the circuit box door back closed. You turned back to the two girls behind you, a weary look shared amongst the three of you before Kie took it upon herself to carefully open the gate in front of the back door, twisting the knob quickly but quietly.
Pushing the door open, the three of you slid inside swiftly as the door creaked, making your face twist. You all treaded carefully through the dark home. You nearly jumped out of your skin when a cat yowled beside you.
“Shi- get out of here you mangy thing!” You whispered, pushing the feline away with the toe of your shoe. You follow the wires on the ceiling to the location of the breakers, Kiara wasting little time in switching the generator off, the house and surrounding areas going pitch black as she did.
You all let out sighs of relief, small victorious smiles breaking out on each of your faces. “We should probably get out of here now.” You advised, the other two agreeing. You hadn’t even lifted your foot to step away before a whirring sound echoed throughout the house, the three of you throwing yourselves against the wall and out of sight of whatever was around the corner.
You could barely hear one another breathing, contemplating whether you should stay put or make a break for it. It wasn’t long before you heard the sound of heavy-breathing and what sounded like a cane hitting the floor accompanied by delayed footsteps. 
You could feel your heart in throat as you tried your hardest not to move a muscle, the footsteps growing closer by the second. Fear rushing through your veins when you heard a voice call out.
“It’s late, Leon.” An old, raspy, elderly voice spoke — Mrs. Crain. “Too late...” She coughed, cane still hitting the floor ferociously with every step. You swore you could’ve cried when the woman in question rounded the corner, standing right in front of you three with no clue. “I can hear you, Leon. I’ve been waiting all night!” She screeched, whipping her head in your direction so fast you were surprised her neck didn’t snap in the process.
Her teeth were yellow, her hair was dead and gray, and her eyes were white. Pure white. The three of you screamed simultaneously before booking it in the direction you came. You don’t know how you ended up splitting from each other but you did. You ended up in some old dusty study-type room, the only exit being a window. You ran over to it, using all your strength to pull it up but it wouldn’t budge.
“Where are you, Leon?!” Her voice scratched your ears with the way it echoed. You cursed as you continued pulling at the window, eventually giving up and running out of the room. Fortunately, you ran in just time to find Mrs. Crain swinging aimlessly at Kiara with a fire poker. You took the opportunity to grab the object when she swung it back once more, snatching it and throwing it across the room.
Sarah entered just as the old lady turned around and gripped you by the arm, the blonde grabbing Kiara as you pushed Mrs. Crain off of you and ran into the room with the other two. Sarah closed and latched the door shut, Mrs. Crain banging from the other side. 
She’d managed to find the stairs the led under the house where the guys were, you and Kiara following her down in a hurry. 
“Guys!” All three of you called, sprinting through the crawlspace. 
“Woah, what’s goin’ on?” JJ asked as you accidentally ran into him, the blonde stabilizing by your upper arms.
“Mrs. Crain is up there. She’s trying to kill us with a fire poker.” Kiara breathed out. 
“We locked her in the parlor but we have to go. Like, now.” You said frantically. 
“Okay, code red.” JJ said, releasing your arms and heading back towards Pope. He leaned over the well, shouting down. “John B! Get back on, man!” The rest of you grabbed the length of the rope, using all of your man power to pull the boy back up when the you all fell, the rope pulling up nothing.
“Where is he?” Kiara panicked, crawling to the well to lean over it. “John B?!” His voice came back up but no one could tell what he was saying. It was just a faint echo. His next words were clearer, however — he was calling your names.
“He’s drowning! We gotta pull him up!” Sarah assumed the worst as you scrambled to grab the rope again. 
“John B? Get back on the rope, we’re gonna pull you up!” Pope called down into the well. Once JB affirmed that he was secured, the five of you began pulling once more, much more synchronized this time. You were using all the strength you had to pull him up when a gunshot made your ears ring.
You ducked, as did the rest of the group, your grip on the rope loosening. Pope and JJ hurried to tie the rope so it wouldn’t drop any further as you all scurried around the crawlspace, hoping the blind woman would think you were gone.
Only problem? None of you knew how to shut the hell up. Another shot rang out and that’s when you all decided you had to make a run for it. You saw John B’s muddy hand gripped the edge of the well before you bolted, knowing he’d be a little behind but just fine. You sprinted out into the yard, practically launched yourself back over the gate and threw yourselves into the van.
JJ started the van without John B inside as more gunshots sounded, the boy running behind his own van for dear life. 
“John B, come on!” The boy caught up, launching himself into the back of the van and sliding the door shut as JJ sped off. 
“Everyone okay? No bullet holes?” JJ questioned from the driver’s seat.
“I think I’d know if I was shot, right?” Kiara asked, hands patting her frame. 
“You look disgusting.” Pope breathed out, the statement directed at John B who looked more like a mud-man than a teenage boy.
“And you smell even worse, my God.” Your face winded with disgust. 
“What the hell just happened?” Sarah ran her hands through her hair, throwing her head back.
“All-time Pogue Hall of Fame, baby!” JJ cheered, giving you a high-five as you basically sat back to back as he drove.
“That bitch is possessed.” Kiara said.
“How can she move that fast?” John B breathed out, and you wondered how he could talk without minding the substance all over his face, including his lips.
Suddenly, John B pulled something from his pocket or under his thigh, it was hard to tell when he was the same color all over. “What is that?” You asked, squinting your eyes as he used his thumb to wipe away the debris on the object, revealing the unmistakable color of gold. “...No motherfucking way.” You scoffed.
“We did it, baby!” He whooped, holding the gold bar up in the air. “I did it!”
“Oh, my God!” JJ supported him as he drove, eyes looking back when they should on the road. The van was filled with cheers, so loud you were sure any houses you passed on the road could hear. 
“You guys were gonna be rich!” Kiara broke through the cheers. “Like Kook rich!”
“Full Kook!” Pope started, the rest of you joining in joyously. The Twinkie had never been more lively or celebratory. After days of being chased, shot at, arrested, jumped, and targeted — you all had done it.
You had found the gold.
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next chapter >
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sunraies · 2 years ago
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Cupcakes and Rainstorms
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Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader
Warnings - fluff, enemies to something, kissing. Rafe has a crush.
Getting stuck on the side of the road in a rainstorm has an unexpected outcome
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The sudden downpour came out of nowhere. The joys of summer rainstorms. One minute, the sun is shining, and then suddenly, the sky becomes dark and grey.
It was just your luck that the heavens opened while you were making a delivery to the Figure Eight. You father's beat up, bakery van was never good in the rain.
The white van with a smiling cupcake tended not have the ability to break in the rain. You begged your father to upgrade it as the business grew but he insisted it worked perfectly fine. The rusted, cupcake smiling, piece of shit.
Sure, it had memories from the days when the bakery first opened but it wasn't worth your life. You should have just biked the five dozen white cupcakes to the obnoxious white themed party.
What 14 year old held a white themed party, anyway?
You had pulled over to check the directions and got stuck in a muddy puddle, which was more like a bog with a stupid little white dress on. No way could you risk trying to push the fucking, heap of junk in the rain.
You had phoned JJ for help but had no luck and it wasn't worth trying the others. If JJ didn't pick up, the others wouldn't. Whatever shit he was getting up to, they were definitely with him. You sent an SOS message to the group, but they could take hours.
Hitting your head on the stirring wheel, you groaned in tune with the horn. Stuck between Figure Eight and The Cut with your phone battery dead. Maybe you should have called a tow truck before JJ.
With the horn blaring you didn't hear the roar of the motorcycle. It was the sharp knocking on the driver window that caught your attention.
"Holy shit!" You yelled, jumping and holding a hand over your heart.
Stood outside your window in the pouring rain, white shirt soaked through was Rafe Cameron.
"What the hell, are you doing?" You rolled down the window as he frowned at you.
"Oh, that's a shame. I thought I found a dead Pogue"
You could have sworn he looked concerned for a moment before realising it was you.
"Sorry to ruin your fantasy" you grumbled, ready to roll the window up on him but his hand stopped you.
"It's pissing it down," He pointed out, like you couldn't tell.
"And?"
"Let me sit for a bit"
You raised an eyebrow at him, watching the rain drip from his hair as the fabric of his shirt, which made it more and more see-through. He noticed you looking, and a small smirk appeared.
"Come on, my bike is laying in the mud, and this shirt is expensive."
You glanced in the mirror, noticing the motor bike thrown down in the bog like puddle. Had he really been that concerned?
"Fine, but you're phoning for a tow truck." He was already running round to the passenger side.
He made a shivering noise as he slammed the passenger door shut and shook himself. "You didn't call a truck?"
"Dead battery" you held up, your battered and broken phone.
It had a cracked screen and worn-out case, but you loved it. The lock screen was of the gang on the beach, and tucked in the back was a post-it with a doodle from Kie.
It was your father's stupid cupcake, smoking a joint, and the knife stabbed into the icing.
"So we're stuck." Rafe tried not to smile at the doodle as you throw your phone upside down on the dashboard.
"We?" You looked over at him.
Taking in his appearance more. He really did have a body like a Greek god, clearly visible with his shirt clinging to his toned torso. He had a face like an angel when he wasn't scowling.
"Don't have my phone on me, sweetheart" He shrugged, patting his pockets to prove a point.
You stared at him, dumbfounded.
"Who the fuck, doesn't have their phone on them?"
"Didn't think I needed it"
After some silence and the annoyance of him huffing while playing with random things in the van. You snapped,
"Would you stop that?"
"Stop what?"
"Breathing so hard"
"I'm just breathing"
"Well, stop"
"I'm sure you and your little friends would love that"
"I wouldn't be complaining"
"Wow. Ouch" He scoffed, folding his arms over his chest. "Didn't know you could be so heartless"
"Guess we don't know a lot about each other"
"I do" He muttered, so quitely that you barely caught it.
"Oh really? Let's see what the Kook King, thinks of a Pogue 'peasant' like me"
The rain was still hammering down on the windscreen and making a tinny sound as it bounced of the roof of the van.
He scoffed at you again. "I wouldn't say peasant. What with your father's business and all"
You rolled your eyes. Of course, he wouldn't reject the idea of being called Kook King.
Your father's bakery had become so popular in Outerbanks that custom had even spread the main land. He had more than enough to move, upgrade, and even buy a house in the Figure Eight, but he didn't want the change. Everything he was gaining was going into a collage fund for you and your future.
"Thanks, I guess"
Uncomfortable silence fell again as the rain didn't ease.
"Why did you stop?"
"Stop what?" He asked again.
"At the van"
He shrugged "I knew it was your father's"
Rafe didn't look at you as he quickly added at the same time as you, before you even asked why.
"Fucking smiling cupcake"
You actually laughed at the timing. Little did you know, he hated the cupcake as every time he saw it around, he hoped it was you driving.
In the cute polo shirt with the cupcake logo and shorts that hugged your butt. The baseball cap with the same logo, worn backwards and your white, now grey, scuffed up converse.
You bounced around, smiling and wishing good day to people as you delivered the elite of the island. Music blaring out of the rust bucket or taping away on your phone, nodding as you picked the next track before hopping on your bike.
The first time he saw you around was about a year ago. Sure, he'd seen you with the Pogues, but he really noticed you when you had come to Tanneyhill.
It wasn't even an actual delivery. You had been popping by to pick Sarah up for John B bringing a small box of baked goods with you. Wheeze actually hugged you when she saw you at the door. She loved the cupcakes.
"You scared me, you know?" He played with the ring on his finger.
"How?"
"When I saw the van, and the horn. I thought
...." he sighed as you watched him. He looked so vulnerable as he swallowed.
"I was dead?" You frowned, you were going to snark back about how fucking morbid that was before he shook his head and ran his hand through his hair.
"So you throw your bike in the mud? Wow, dramatic much? " You chose a lighter topic, which actually made him laugh.
🧁
"Hey, hey," you hit his hand away from the box of perfectly iced cakes. "Don't eat those!"
"We have been sat here an hour." Rafe pointed out his watch.
Your eyes went wide, shit, shit, shit. An hour. You were an hour late. An hour of money lost. An hour of no one coming to rescue you. A hour of -
"I'm sure, Wheeze won't mind"
Wheeze? What the hell, did he mean Wheeze? His baby sister.
Oh, you were going to kill, Jeremy. The dipshit had put Tawney Hall on the delivery notice. No wonder you couldn't find it. If you known you were delivering for the Camerons you would have never pulled over in the first place.
"Wheezie, wanted a white theme party?" You found that hard to believe.
"Rose wanted" He corrected as he grabbed a cupcake from the box again.
You hit his hand a moment too slow, causing the cupcake to go flying and land on his drying, white shirt. You laughed and covered your mouth.
"Oh, I'm sorry." You tried to be sincere, but the laughter didn't help.
"I told you this was expensive, baby"
He shook his head at you, he looked annoyed but there was a twinkle in his eye. God, had they always been so blue?
He dipped his finger into the icing before making you gasp as he ran it down your nose.
"Rafe, no, no" You laughed and put your hands up but was not use.
Soon, you both ended up covered in icing and crumbled cakes.
His face was so close to yours that you could feel his breath fan over your lips. You had ended up with your back against the door as Rafe fitted perfectly between your legs. His hand cupped your neck as you held his shoulder.
His eyes darted from yours to your lips and back again. He swallowed a few times as your heart beat loudly in your chest.
"Kiss me"
It was a whisper, but he caught it and took only a moment before his lips collied with yours. He tasted of vanilla icing.
You broke suddenly apart as the familiar tune of The Twinkie's horn sounded so close by.
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mollymauk-teafleak · 9 months ago
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I wouldn't fall for someone I thought couldn't misbehave
I actually wrote a fic, go figure! Huge thanks to @minky-for-short for getting me into Hazbin and @hangsters for the support and love! I got a lot more where this came from <3
Please reblog and comment over on Ao3!
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They've been told to live tonight however they want. And with tomorrow's Extermination looming and the Hazbin Hotel right in the middle of the target, there's only one thing Angel Dust wants to do.
And that's the bartender.
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You didn’t wind up in hell without knowing fear. Whether you got there by painting it on other people or seeing it in your reflection or both, it didn’t matter, to everyone down below, fear was like an old friend. 
And to Angel Dust, fear was like a toxic hook up whose calls he couldn’t make himself ignore after years of dissatisfying back alley orgasms. 
All to say, he knew the taste of it, sharp like battery acid and sour like cheap, soapy lube. He knew how it sounded, laughter stretched so thin you could see through it, the whir of a camera lens pulling close to try and see where you were breaking. He knew how it smelled, sweat and latex and dry ice. He knew how it felt, cheap faux fur and overwarm, foreign skin. 
Angel had been sucking fear’s dick for longer than he cared to remember. But what surprised him was that he didn’t see it here. 
They should be scared. They should all be pissing themselves in terror. In who knew how many hours, the worst Extermination they’d known would descend, with their home and everyone in it smack bang in the center of the target. And Heaven wasn’t in the habit of missing their shot. 
But when Angel knocked back another shot of top shelf whiskey, he didn’t taste fear in it. The laughter that surrounded him was real, all he could feel was a warmth that he wasn’t sure came from the drink. 
Maybe this was what fear felt like when you didn’t face it alone. 
“You’re staring.”
Angel didn’t have much of a defense, especially when he hadn’t even realized that Vaggie had moved onto the barstool next to him and jumped a mile when she started speaking, nearly spilling his next shot. Because he was busy staring. 
So he took evasive action instead, trying to piece his cool back together, “Ain’t you got a girlfriend waiting on you upstairs? What are you still doing down here?”
“Finishing my drink,” she gave him a cool, bemused look, proving her point by draining the rest of her glass, “I don’t think any of us are in a position to be wasting alcohol tonight. Or time.”
“Thanks for the riddle, toots,” Angel rolled his eyes, taking the shot before someone else could come along and nearly make him spill it. 
“Want me to say it plainly then?” Vaggie arched an eyebrow. 
Angel scowled but he wasn’t mad at Vaggie, not really. He was more pissed at himself for not hiding it better. The five time winner of the Golden Tongue Award (for best performance in a pornographic visual production) should probably have been able to school his face. 
He let his eyes wander across the bar, if there was no point in hiding it anymore. Husk was tossing a cocktail shaker from one hand to the other before sending it up behind his back, bouncing it between his wings, making it disappear and reappear before pouring out an electric blue liquid into Nifty’s waiting glass, to her immense delight. He bowed to the slight but enthusiastic applause, showing Angel a glimpse of the showman he’d been once upon a time. 
It wasn’t just that he was handsome. It wasn’t just that he was Angel’s exact type and then some, that gravelly voice, the snark, the emotional unavailability, the tortured past that muzzled him, his boxes were well and truly ticked. If it was just that, Angel would have torn his clothes off, rode him on that bar and moved on with his afterlife. 
But Husk had pushed back. He’d growled and snapped and thrown up more walls until Angel started to see getting the cat’s trousers off as a professional challenge. Robbed of his only way to safely interact with people, to feel like he was in control, Angel had fallen apart in front of him on one of the worst days he’d had in a while.
And all Husk had done was put him back together again. 
So it wasn’t just that he was hot, there was a hell of a lot more to it than that. And there was the fear again, souring the booze on his tongue. 
“I ain’t a fan of straight talking,” Angel grunted, hunching his shoulders and spinning the now empty glass on the edge of his finger. 
“Figured,” Vaggie sighed in a way that might almost suggest she actually cared, hopping down off the barstool. 
She looked ready to disappear up the stairs but something made her pause, maybe the weight of their borrowed time, maybe something dangerously close to sentiment. But she did stop, reaching out and putting a hand on Angel’s shoulder. 
“All I’m gonna say…I’ve been told the only way to survive this is to fight for love. Find someone you can’t live without and go out there with one goal. Protecting them.” 
Like a magnet, those words drew his eyes over to Husk again. And this time, he looked back, feeling his gaze. Those narrow yellow eyes, glowing like bulbs on a marquee or LEDs tempting a sucker to a slot machine, crinkled a little at the edges, shooting the spider demon a wink. 
Angel groaned inwardly at himself. He was doomed and Heaven didn’t have anything to do with it. 
“Someone like me don’t even know what love is,” Angel murmured, more to himself than to Vaggie, “Might as well be speaking a different language, sugar.”
But he heard him anyway, those damn sharp ears of hers, “Then what better time to make a change?”
Before he could shield himself with sarcasm, she was gone, off up the stairs to someone who loved her. To another heartbeat against her own, arms around her, a silent promise that she was cared about, no matter what the nightmares said. Angel felt a pang in his chest, somehow finding the poor sense to want something he’d never had. 
“Another drink?” 
Angel dredged up a crooked grin, “Sure! Put it on my tab, I’ll come settle up with you tomorrow night.”
“Very funny,” Husk poured him a couple more shots to keep him going, though he was now without other customers. 
Charlie and Vaggie had gone upstairs, Cherri had dragged Sir Pentious over to the pool table where she’d definitely crush him, Nifty was curled up in an unnervingly cat like way, sleeping on the bar and making Angel wonder if there hadn’t been a sedative jn that drink Husk made her. Alastor was who knew where, Angel only cared that Husk relaxed a lot more when he wasn’t around. 
This was the best chance he was going to get.
Let’s get to living. His own words from earlier that night tried to move his mouth, tried to force him forward, tried to stop him being such a damned fucking coward and just say something…
“Actually…I think I’ll turn in,” he seized the rest of the shots in various hands and sank them one by one, trying to wash away the bitterness, “My aim gets real shitty if I don’t get my beauty sleep. And if I’m gonna die tomorrow, like hell am I going down with bags under my eyes. Did it once, never again.”
If he was the kind to hope, Angel Dust might have tried to convince himself he saw disappointment in those slitted eyes. 
But Husk only gave a rolling shrug, collecting up the abandoned glasses, draining them of their last clinging dregs of amber liquid, “Funny, my luck seems to get better when I’m hungover. Sweet dreams, kid.”
Angel Dust chuckled, putting a little swing in his hips, shooting a smile over his shoulder, “Ain’t no other kind with me, baby.”
One last lie for the road. 
At least he didn’t sleep at all, choosing the cloudy headed middle ground of lying back on his bed, staring at the ceiling and prodding listlessly at the ache in his chest. It was like when his tooth had been knocked out, unable to keep his tongue out of the tender, empty gap, no matter how much it made him wince. Fat Nuggets did the sleeping for both of them, snoring on Angel’s chest, every gravelly honk ruffling the feathers pink robe that always made Angel feel like he could hold it together for a few more minutes than he would without it. 
He was angry at himself but that was nothing new, only the reason was old. It had been a fucking long time since he’d promised himself he was done hiding, done paring himself down because someone else wouldn’t like the taste. Lying here, feeling sorry for himself because he was too chickenshit to ask a guy to fuck him, he may as well have been back in 1940, worrying himself sick that his dad would be able to see his secret written on his face. 
Well, Angel Dust wasn’t Anthony anymore. And Angel Dust was losing his goddamn patience. The worst had happened and then some, he’d lost his family, he’d lost his home, he’d lost his life but the one thing he didn’t have to do was hide anymore. Husk was down there, he’d say no or he’d say yes, either way was better than being too damn afraid to know. 
And if he felt more about it, well that was his problem to deal with. It wasn’t like he was going to live much longer anyway. 
Fat Nuggets squawked a little as Angel Dust sat up, displaced from his comfy position. 
“Sorry, sweetie,” Angel kissed the top of his head, trying to make up for it by tucking him nicely in his own little bed, “Daddy’s got some living to do. Last minute and all but you know me.”
A quick check of his hair in the mirror, a quick fluff of the fur on his chest, like he was going down to meet some doll by his car and get swept off the the dance hall rather than going to proposition his surly friend for a quick and dirty end-of-their-afterlife fuck. But there was no harm in looking his best while he did it. 
His reflection in this mirror looked a hell of a lot different than the one in his studio dressing room. There were half a hundred tiny little flaws that would have earned him a sharp, cutting comment from Valentino and maybe worse, depending on the moth’s mood. But Angel Dust didn’t think Husk would care, in fact, he seemed to get further with the guy when he went in the opposite direction to what work demanded of him. So he left them, as much as a disconnected, confused anxiety itched at him, one that hadn’t realized they weren’t at the studio. 
He took a deep breath, holding his own gaze tight, “You’re a pro at this, ain’t nothing you haven’t seen before. You know the steps, boyo, curtain’s up.”
Angel went to the door of his room, feeling buoyed, feeling confident. Until, of course, he ran into something he hadn’t seen before. 
At least it was soft. Though it cursed like a sailor. 
“What the fuck?” Angel yelped, feathers suddenly thumping against his face. 
“Will you keep your goddamn voice down, you’ll wake half the fucking hotel-”
“Husk?” Angel stepped back, blinking in confusion, “Were you…were you outside my door?”
The other demon’s irritation collapsed, fizzing away like an alka-seltzer to reveal the bitch of a hangover underneath. Expressions he’d never seen on that feline face tried unsuccessfully to hide, embarrassment and coyness and a blush barely visible under dark fur. 
“Look, I…can I come in? Please?” he tacked the politeness on the end like he almost forgot it while running out the door. 
“Uh…sure, hon?” Angel Dust stepped to one side, suddenly wishing he’d tidied up a little at any point since he first moved in. Or that the dildos tossed about where a more impressive size. 
Husk didn’t seem to relax a little until the door was closed, until they were definitely alone. He stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, an old antique in amongst a lot of plastic and rubber, while Angel leaned against the door and wondered how he’d lost control of this so fast. 
Eventually Husk sighed, tail twitching and betraying his nervousness, “Look. Feel free to tell me to take a hike here, fuck knows you’d have the right. But…I kept thinking about what Charlie said. About spending this night living how we wanted or whatever. And I…I can’t think of anything else I wanted to do but…”
Angel Dust knew he was grinning like an idiot but he couldn’t help it. It wasn’t every day you got a royal flush laid out in front of you. 
“What? What is it you wanna do, Whiskers?” he tilted his head, faux innocence sparkling in his voice as he batted his eyelashes, “Anything I can help you with?”
Husk’s fur bristled and he pinched the bridge of his nose, “Fuck, I knew you’d be like this, goddamnit-”
Panic gripped him, a terrifyingly certain realization that if Husk left now, if he drove him away, he wouldn’t be able to stand it, “Wait. Sorry. I didn’t…I didn’t mean to fuck with you.”
The apology clearly caught the cat demon off guard, eyebrows rising. A small smile pulled at the edges of his mouth, “Well…guess that was the aim of my coming here…”
The grin came back, feeling more honest this time, more firmly in place. Angel stepped forward, offering one of his hands out to Husk, “Good…cos I was just on my way to ask you the same thing.”
He’d heard Husk bitch about his demon form a lot and in that moment, he could see why. Those ears and that tail were tells you could spot from a hundred miles. And right now they were telling Angel he was damn pleased. 
Husk’s fingers- claws? -were calloused, whether from cards or chips or the keys of the sax he’d apparently played once upon a time. But they held Angel’s in a grip he could be certain of, one he knew instantly wouldn’t let go. 
Angel had jumped on odds far worse than that. 
They toppled onto the bed, swallowed by fur and silk. It took some maneuvering, making their strange forms fit but once they found it, it was fucking sweet. Suddenly there was a solid heat between his legs, something to grind into, fireworks exploding behind his eyes when he did. There was a smoky growl in his ear, a heady smell of whiskey and, fuck, Angel could have gotten drunk just off that. His hands moved of their own accord, two anchoring him to the headboard, the other two taking handfuls of soft, impossibly soft fur. 
“Easy…” Husk rumbled when he pulled a little too hard. 
“Sorry,” Angel Dust purred, splaying his legs wide, rolling his hips harder against Husk’s, “Just feels so good.” 
Instead his hands wandered, finding where fur gave way to feather along that strong, broad back. The moment his fingers brushed there, that unfamiliar muscle, Husk jerked and moaned, the hardness in his trousers throbbing. 
“Oh? Kitty liked that, huh?” Angel tittered, pressing one thumb into a hollow at the base of his wing, earning another strangled yowl. 
“I swear to fuck, if you make me come in my pants like a goddamn teenager, I- fuck, baby, I’m sensitive there- ah…” 
“I’d consider it a compliment, honey, don’t you worry,” Angel cooed, shivering happily at the way Husk’s chest vibrated when he touched him, like he was an instrument he could play. 
“Call me old fashioned…”
Suddenly they were rolling, Angel Dust’s stomach dropping dizzily for a moment until he found himself straddling Husk, who was smirking up at him. 
“But when I’m from?” he finished, voice sounding like everything amber and musk and honey in the world, “If you’re taking a fine man to bed, you let him take his pleasure first. It’s good manners, see? So how about you tell me what you want, Angel?”
Angel Dust was left with the sudden anxiety of having forgotten his next line in the script. Or worse, he’d never even fucking read it in the first place. The answer, perched miserably on the tip of his tongue was that he didn’t know. 
He’d gotten too used to sex where the only thing that mattered was getting a good review, any pleasure he got was a secondary concern. He’d taught himself to like whatever his partner was willing to give, even when it called him a whore, even when it was too much, even when it hurt. The real pleasure had been the packet of powder or handful of pills that came after or before, not the sex itself. 
His confusion must have shown on his face because Husk’s voice gentled, a paw coming up to lightly cup his face, “You want my mouth or my hands, baby?”
Angel Dust pushed his instincts away, “Mouth. I want you to tell me how I taste.”
Rolling again but this time, he enjoyed the free fall. Now Husk was between his legs, drawing down the sweatpants he wore to bed, just enough that he could free Angel’s dick. Angel kicked them the rest of the way off, letting Husk see all of him, legs falling open. 
“Fuck…” his voice was melodic, hypnotic and hypnotized, “You look fucking gorgeous, baby…”
“And it’s all yours,” Angel panted raggedly, wrapping his long legs around Husk’s shoulders. For however long we’ve got left. 
Husk’s purr sounded more like a car engine on its last legs, a rough and slightly threatening sound, but as he nosed and nuzzled at the base of Angel’s cock, it ran through his body like the best warm whiskey. In the dim light of his room, Angel could swear those spots on his wings were glowing, along with his eyes, which were fixed on Angel’s face like he was getting as much pleasure from watching him as he was from licking a broad stripe across his length. 
Angel hissed, back arching up like his whole body was drawn towards that sensation, “Fuck, watch that sandpaper tongue…”
“Sorry. I’m kinda rough all over, baby,” he didn’t sound particularly sorry, flashing him a grin but he did ease up, hands taking hold of Angel’s thighs, keeping him spread wide so he could bury his face against him. 
In the studio, Angel Dust had marks to hit, lines to gasp out, a camera to play up to. With Valentino, he had to make the right noises, he needed to sound scared, he needed to beg. But here, with Husk, out of reach of a script or a contract, he let moans and gasps pour heedlessly from his lips, he moved his body however it felt good. He was loud, loud enough to blow out a mic, he cursed and babbled things that didn’t make sense, he just felt . 
Eventually the fur around Husk’s mouth was soaked, his jaw slack. He was good at this, unfairly good, lips and teeth and tongue all as skilled as you’d expect from someone who’d made a living by them. But now Angel Dust was the sole focus of their attention and he was drawn tight as a bow, ready to snap. 
“Come for me, baby,” Husk’s rasp was almost animalistic now, “Let me hear you fucking sing.”
Angel Dust was more than happy to give him exactly what he asked for, giving a broken, soaring cry as his orgasm crashed over him, sinking him down into such an overwhelming sensation that he soon lost sight of the surface. Panic threatened but then a voice echoed to him. 
“Can I kiss you?”
“Yes…” his own voice didn’t feel attached to his body so it was free to answer truthfully.
It was those lips that brought him back, a mouth that tasted of salt and opened to warmth, arms coming to circle him and anchor him down. Angel moaned, not able to care that his voice cracked unflatteringly as he did. 
“Baby…”
“I got you, Angel, you did good, you tasted fucking incredible…” Husk’s wings settled over them, shielding him from the pink glow of his room. 
He didn’t know how to tell him that the praise threatened to break him all over again, so Angel took charge this time, needing all four of his limbs to press the stronger demon into the mattress. 
He licked the taste of his own come off Husk’s fangs and drew back just enough to gasp out, “You’re gonna fuck me so hard and so deep that if I go down tomorrow, I’m going down with your spunk inside me.”
“Of course that’s your fucking last wish,” Husk’s laugh was a gorgeous thing, a rough bark that made Angel think of smoky jazz lounges from another time. 
He couldn’t help but smile, even if it was mostly bemusement, he wasn’t used to laughing during sex. It did feel pretty fucking good, he had to admit, having a genuine grin on his face as he pulled open Husk’s trousers. Though it quickly fell into awe at what jumped out and damn near smacked him in the teeth.
“Holy fuck!” Angel grinned in delight, one arm having good sense and stretching out to snag the bottle of lube in his bedside table, “Is that an overlord thing? They took the power but they let you keep the massive cock?”
“Shut up,” Husk rolled his eyes, where they snagged on the two hands now soaking their fingers and reaching around to his ass, “Mm…you’re so beautiful, you know that?”
“Heard a couple of people mention it,” Angel grinned down at him, shivering pleasantly as his hands got to work. 
Husk’s eyes burned in the dim light, “Yeah. But do you know it?”
Angel Dust faltered, eyelids half closed. Another question whose answer flitted on his tongue but he didn’t want to let it go. 
And again, he didn’t have to. Husk pulled him down, bending him near in half to kiss him. Unable to wait a moment more, his slicked hands grasped at Husk’s cock, drawing a hiss out of him that he gratefully swallowed. Angel sighed through the stretch and burn, sitting back and slowly, achingly slowly, every inch of Husk disappeared into him. 
Angel was used to pleasures that dissolved quickly on his tongue and in his nose, leaving cold, bitter metal behind. This was something entirely new, something that felt like it was etching itself on every cell in his body, redefining words he thought he’d known inside and out. Pleasure. Sex. Need. 
“Husk…” his voice was a tremulous, faint thing, like he was afraid to be heard. 
“Oh, I knew you’d be like nothing else, baby…” the other demon groaned, thrusting up into him after a moment to let him settle. 
There was no awkward shuffling now, they moved like a dance, like they could hear some music that didn’t exist outside of their bloodstreams. Husk’s hips rolled, Angel arched, two arms thrown up over his head, two others raking down his lover’s chest, leaving deep grooves in his fur. Before, his mouth had been occupied but now Husk sounded like- what else? -a cat in heat, yowling and gasping.
“That’s it, baby, take it, fucking take it, you feel so fucking good, Angel,” he moaned it like a title rather than just a name, like he’d done anything to deserve it. 
“Aw fuck…” Angel Dust felt like he was going to shake apart, there wasn’t room inside him for all of this, he didn’t know where to put it all. 
But he did know that he was about to come, hard. It was unstoppable, undeniable, and if he was half the pornstar he thought he was, Husk was on his heels. It was in the way his voice had shifted up a few notes, the way his grip on Angel’s hips had grown desperate, the break in the otherwise metronome perfect rhythm of his thrusts. 
And that terrified Angel. All the fear he’d expected to find down in the bar, it thickened the air in his lungs like he’d taken an inhale from a real bad batch. Fuck, please, it can’t be over already. 
But this was a fall that had to end. Husk’s hips shifted, heating that sweet spot inside him dead on and he was lost, every muscle tensing as he surrendered to his release. It was sweet and the low roar of his own name, the heat flooding so deep inside him he could damn near taste it, that was sweeter. This time when he broke, he willed himself to stay in those depths, stay in pieces, there was nothing for him on the surface. 
But there was that voice again. 
“Angel…fuck, that was…that was amazing, I…Angel?”
His muscles must have switched off at some point but Husk had caught him, he was sprawled out across the other demon’s chest, their bodies still joined somewhere within the lovely, thrumming haze where the rest of him used to be. But his eyes prickled, heat running down his cheek, dripping onto Husk’s fur where oh fuck no, he’d felt it…
Angel flinched back from the sting of his own tears, bringing an arm up to try and hide, like there was even any point. He rolled off Husk, hunching down as small as he’d go, shoulders trembling. 
“It’s nothing, I…” What are you doing, idiot? “...don’t worry about it, it’ll stop…” Dumb fucking slut, you’re ruining it! “...just give me a second to put myself together…” Like you have any right, get a grip “I’m sorry.”
“Angel.”
He listened miserably, waiting for the creak as the bed lifted without his wait, waiting for the sound of soft paws on the floor and the click of the door closing behind him. But it never came. 
“Angel, can I touch you? That alright, baby?”
He managed to nod, surprise mostly shocking his muscles into moving. There was a shift, a whisper of silk and then soft fur as strong arms wrapped around his middle, embracing him with a deliberate light touch that would let Angel pull away at any point. Another heartbeat, slowing as the adrenaline ebbed away, drummed against his back like a knock at the door. 
“Do you want to talk about it?” Husk murmured against the fur between Angel’s shoulder blades. 
“Nah,” Angel croaked, inhaling deeply, finding that warm whiskey smell again and relaxing, “We ain’t got the time.”
“Fair enough,” he accepted it easily, much to Angel’s relief, “Just get some sleep, okay? I’m gonna stay right here.” 
 He couldn’t help it, however much it made him feel like a child, “Promise?”
“Of course I promise, Angel,” there was an edge of sadness to his voice, more than the usual, not at having to say it again but at the fact that he needed to ask, “I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me. However long we got left.”
Angel smiled grimly. The second wasn’t fucking long enough to allow him the first. Just his luck to find exactly what he’d been looking for in the last few hours he had to live. 
But he would take what he’d been given. Angel always had. 
He turned, burying his face in Husk’s chest, feeling his rough but pleased chuckle, “Best roll of the dice I think I ever made, coming to your door…”
Angel Dust allowed himself a moment to smile at that. To feel wanted. To feel precious. Whatever happened tomorrow, he’d remember this feeling. 
Whatever happened tomorrow, he wouldn’t face it alone. 
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soulreapin · 9 months ago
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happy valentine’s day klancers here’s our favorite tragedy getting to be happy for once. xoxo soul
Keith wakes up to the sharp, pungent smell of roses in his nose.
That’s not always as alarming as it is right now, sometimes Lance gets flowers from the farmer’s market and sets them in delicate clear vases all over their apartment (Keith will always hate the smell of daffodils), but the farmer’s market hadn’t been in town for a number of weeks.
He sits up in bed, pushing the red flannel comforter down from where it was safely tucked up underneath his chin and looks around wildly. Their comfortable bedroom has a vase of red roses on every surface, even on the vanity tucked in the crook between the wall and the door of their ensuite bathroom.
They look fresh, vibrant and sweet in the low light.
He glances to his side and Lance’s side of the bed is noticeably empty. That should’ve been clue number one that something was up, not the smell of roses, but apparently it hadn’t been long enough since his time in the desert that waking up with his arms wrapped around himself and his knees tucked into the crook of his chin wasn’t considered abnormal yet.
A splay of his palm against the sheets tells him Lance has been up for some time. Something ugly and foreign squeezes itself around his heart, but Keith, under any circumstance, does not give himself time to figure out what it is and slides out of bed, stepping into his red lion slippers and following the apparent trail of red rose petals on their usually pristine wooden floor.
His slippers scuff on the wood as Keith trails down the short hallway into their living room, and if he thought their bedroom was bad, this is catastrophic. Floral arrangements sit large and pretty on their dining table, on their kitchen counters, on the coffee table where instead of fake fruit they set their feet in the middle.
Varying shades of red and pink and white flourish in the home Keith worked so hard to build for him and Lance, the life they hold on to with tight grips and locked elbows decorated with pretty scalloped petals and white lace keeping them all standing at attention.
On the center of their dining room table, where there are pencil marks thoroughly worn into the wood from hours doing homework for Lance to get his masters, are several fake candles set up around a red envelope, and from this distance Keith can’t tell if it’s sealed with wax or not, but he’d bet his braid that it was.
As Keith is walking over to the envelope, he panics. “What did I forget? Our anniversary isn’t until October, his birthday is in July, it’s February—oh. It’s February.”
He reaches the letter at the same time he has the realization. Today is February 14th, it’s Valentine’s Day, and Keith did not forget. There are reservations in his name tonight for their favorite mexican restaurant, the one Lance picked himself because it tasted the most like home, and he’s got a heart-shaped box of chocolates and a hand-written card tucked into the back of their closet because he knows Lance doesn’t look back there.
So he picks up the envelope with steady fingers, pops open the definite wax seal and before he can judge it, presses a kiss to the cold wax with the reminder that Lance’s careful hands had poured and pressed it into a heart shape, and slides a thin, white paper card out of the envelope.
In Lance’s scraggly, all-caps looking handwriting, he’s written, ‘good morning, keithy cat! happy valentines day. i know you freaked this morning when you saw all the flowers. mad i missed it. anyways i didn’t have to go into work like you were thinking. you’re going looking for me but because im SO GRACIOUS and an AMAZING HUSBAND ill give you your first one free, go down to nightsky florals. love, loverboy,’
Despite it all, it brings a small smile to Keith’s face. He folds the note delicately and tucks it back into the envelope, deciding to leave the battery-powered candles running.
“Damn you, Lance,” Keith mutters, but trudges back to their room and changes into simple, loose-fitting Lucky jeans and a red sweater. ‘Tis the season, and all that.
A small bell rings over Keith’s head as he pushes the door open to Night Sky florals. Shiro must have installed that after he went off to college, but the rest of the shop was still the same. Wooden bins of flowers sit on racks going all the way up to the ceiling, there are displays in the center with red roses and assorted bouquets on them, and greenery climbs up the sides of the racks and up the counter near the back of the room.
It’s light and homey. Keith spent a lot of time in Night Sky florals, sitting behind the counter and doing his AP Lit homework, staring daggers at To Kill a Mockingbird and scribbling down Quizlet-approved bullshit answers.
Now, Shiro is sitting on a stool behind the counter, assembling a small array of red roses, baby’s breath, and camelias. He looks up and sees Keith standing in the doorway, “Hey, kid!”
“Hi, Shiro,” Keith grumbles, smiling despite himself, skirting around the center displays to get to the counter, “How’ve you been?”
“You were at my house for dinner a week ago.” Shiro stands up and comes out from behind the counter to wrap Keith in a hug that basically breaks every rib in his body and eliminates a need for a chiropractor. “I think you know how I’ve been.”
Keith shrugs in his hold and hugs him back, “I don’t know, it might have changed in the week I haven’t seen you. Forgive me for caring about my brother.”
After a few more bone-crushing seconds, Keith is let go and allowed to expand his lungs to full capacity again. Shiro tosses over his shoulder as he turns away, “Denied. Back to the desert with you, creature.”
“You’re so odd,” Keith shakes his head and picks at a piece of stray fuzz on the sleeve of his sweater, “I was here for something. Lance sent me here. Is there something here for me?”
Shiro’s face lights up and he disappears off into the back. “He stopped by this morning! This is so cute, Keith I almost kind of hate it, I’m so glad you guys are happy together—aha! Found you, fucker.”
“I’m almost a little nervous about it,” he admits, “Like, he’s doing this for me, what if dinner and chocolates and a card isn’t enough?”
Something clatters to the ground in the back and Shiro reappears holding another red envelope with a pressed wax seal and a small, thin piece of paper. “Keith, I promise you, if you got him a pair of socks and a bag of cherry cordial Hershey’s Kisses, he’d love you forever.”
He accepts the letter and the small piece of paper, his face screwed up, “Those are absolutely disgusting, they taste like cough syrup. The peppermint ones are so much better.”
“Cough syrup aside,” Shiro comments, shaking his head like he can’t believe Keith has a correct opinion, “You know what I meant. He’s happy just having you.”
Keith sighs, a little dejectedly, and slides his thumbnail beneath the wax circle.
It reads, ‘congrats, keefers, you made it! this is the place we met for the first time. i bet you remember it. i came in to get funeral flowers for hunks robot and you insulted me various times all while giving me the most beautiful flowers i had ever seen. i thought you were beautiful too with your shitty ponytail and your silly looking apron. you had a pansy tucked into the pocket i think. ‘
“It was a rose.” Keith says, out loud, without even meaning to.
Shiro glances up from his bouquet in progress, “Congratulations?”
“No, um,” Suddenly embarrassed, Keith scratches the back of his neck, “The day I met Lance here, I had a red rose tucked into my apron. He said it was a pansy.”
“Are you blushing?” Shiro exclaims.
“Shut up, Shiro, go back to your flowers. In the time you’ve spent insulting me three more people have either died or gotten engaged and you are holding them back from their floral arrangements,” Keith sasses, looking back down at the letter.
‘whatever it was i thought it was really cute. im glad we ran into each other that day. rip hunk but if his robot hadn’t died i wouldnt have married this beefcake so who really won here (me its me i won). anyways. the little white paper shiro should’ve handed you will give you a little clue as to where to go next. love, lancelot.’
He slides the letter back into the envelope and flips the small paper over. On it are two dragons intertwined, one small and red and the other bigger, black, and missing its right wing. Keith knows this image; this image sits squarely over his spine.
“So, where are you off to next?” Shiro asks casually.
Keith glances up at Shiro, missing his right arm, and offers a small smile. “Ocean Waves Tattoo Parlor.”
“That’s right across the street from us–oh, that’s where Lance used to work when you two met, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. I’d better be off now. I’ll see you for dinner next Wednesday?” Keith starts to move around the store, picking flowers out of bins and collecting them in his right hand.
“Same day, same time,” Shiro confirms, “Adam’s making pasta salad, I think–what are you doing?”
Keith has gathered a full bundle of red roses, pink carnations, greenery, and forget-me-nots. He drops a handful of cash onto the counter that seems like a vague approximation of what the total should be and waves goodbye, hurrying out of the shop before Shiro can throw his money back at him or realize Keith had probably underpaid.
After his brief stop at Night Sky Florals, Keith went to two more places. Ocean Wave Tattoo Parlor, where Lance used to work and coincidentally where he got his back piece done in Lance’s chair, the ice cream shop where they went on their first date to receive another letter from Romelle, and even at the library on the other side of town where Keith had dedicated hours of his life to helping Lance review for a final (that he passed with flying colors).
He ends up at Fortune Coffee House, their favorite spot to grab a drink or a muffin and just eat breakfast together before they go their separate ways. Keith had stopped at home first and dug the card and chocolates out from the back of the closet, since he had a feeling he’d be seeing Lance here, as this was supposedly the last location.
The door creaks closed behind Keith as he steps into the warm air of the coffee shop, a floor-to-ceiling shelving unit cordoning off the counter from the rest of the shop. Fortune Coffee House is decorated in warm shades of brown and cream, reminiscent of Keith’s college days.
“Welcome in–Keith Akira Kogane, where have you fucking been?” Pidge yells from behind the counter, pushing her glasses up her nose.
Right. Pidge Holt, Keith and Lance’s oldest shared friend, had ended up with a job at Fortune Coffee House, and Keith had been neglecting going out for a beer with her, Hunk, and Lance. Copyediting kept him busy, what can he say?
He sighs and walks up to the counter, flowers, card, and chocolate all balancing very precariously in the crook of one arm. “Hi, Pidge.”
“Don’t hi, Pidge me, you dirty fucker. I missed you!” If she could, Keith would bet every dime he had that she’d throw her pen at him. “Your hair is longer.”
Automatically, his hand shoots up to fidget with the end of his braid. She’s right, it has gotten a little longer, the tail now dangling over his heart instead of at his collar. “I guess it is. What’s new with you?”
“I got into AST.” She says nonchalantly, looking up at Keith with a devious grin.
“That’s great—holy shit, that’s great!”
AST, or Altea State Tech, was the best college in the entire area if you wanted to work on rockets one day, which Pidge did. Her grin is so bright, it blinds him a little, but he leans over the bar and wraps his free arm around her shoulders in an awkward hug.
“I know, isn’t it?” She gushes. “I start in September in the astronautical engineering program, the one Matt did, it’s going to be so, so great!”
“You’ve gotta tell me everything once you start,” Keith says when he pulls back, shifting all of his items between arms, “Has Lance stopped in today?”
“Basically used an entire giftcard stress-drinking iced green teas. He’s been here since eleven, so not very long.” Pidge snorts and picks up her mug with some silly science joke on it, taking a sip of whatever she’s concocted now. “I think he might’ve worn a hole in the floor. Same table as usual.”
“Oh, great,” an exhale rushes out of Keith’s chest, “Can I get a—”
“No, shut up. On the house.” Pidge points at an admittedly very large sign that says, Coming in with a special someone? Your first drink is on us!
“Well, I tried. Seeya, Pidgie. Have fun at AST.” Before Keith leaves, he drops a five dollar bill into the tip jar and slides between tables to get to the second, library-like room.
Fortune Coffee House had two spaces, the actual coffee bar and a second room with tables, an assortment of armchairs, and couches for studying, worship, or just to chat quietly. Keith slips through the doorframe and sees Lance sitting in his usual armchair, tucked into the alcove created by two windows. An empty plastic cup sits on the low table behind them.
Lance looks just as beautiful as the day Keith met him. His hair is longer and curlier, better taken care of, and freckles make their homes loud and proud across his face, but the Pacific ocean that sloshes around his pupils never changed, nor did the tilt of his smile or the slight scrunch of his nose when he laughed. Keith has kissed that scrunch on several occasions, to no fault of his own.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, blue,” Keith says as he approaches Lance, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, “Got these for you.”
“Keithalicous, Keith, god, you scared me!” Lance exclaims but accepts both the kiss and the gifts he’s handed, running a gentle finger over the rose petals. “Did you get here okay?”
Keith thinks back on all the running around he’s done today and can’t tamp down the laugh. “As okay as I could’ve been. I liked the little game you sent me on. It was nice to go back to St. Taffy’s. Romelle still works there, yaknow?”
“I was just there this morning, goober.” Lance reminds him gently, setting the flowers and the chocolate on the table, working on opening the card. “I’m glad you liked it. I wasn’t sure.”
He remembers what’s written in the card. It was written late at night when Keith couldn’t sleep and instead spent precious minutes watching Lance’s sleeping face shift. “Right, yeah, ‘course, ah, I knew that.”
“Wow, did your code just stop working?” Lance jokes as he finally gets the sealed white envelope open (it was spit-sealed, Keith didn’t fuck with wax,) and pulls out the card.
Keith had found it months ago. It was a deep green and pictured a featureless white deer, standing small amongst towering trees. He found it pretty, and by the way Lance traced a reverent finger over the spiny branches of the trees, he did too.
The card itself wasn't a problem. It was what was written inside the card, or more rather, how much was written inside the card. Keith had used every available inch of space from the top edge of the right side to where the small inscription was on the left.
While Lance reads, Keith pulls at a loose thread in his sweater. It pools in his hand by the time Lance glances up at Keith and slowly folds the card shut. His crystal-clear eyes are glassy and wet with tears.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“Shut up,” Lance cuts in, “Shut all the way up. You’re such a gifted fucking writer, oh my god. That was beautiful. I love you too, Keithers.”
His hammering chest eases up and is replaced with birdsong and unbridled joy. “I’m glad. Did you…have a favorite part?”
Lance pauses, “Hm. I think it might’ve been ‘The stars could love me and the moon could cry for me, but I’d still choose you. Every time.’ Or ‘You are my north star over the ocean guiding me home and there is nowhere I would rather tilt my chin than up to your light.’ I told you, Keith, you’re a brilliant fucking writer.”
Keith doesn’t respond, but he does reach across and link Lance’s hand up with his. Lance tightens his grip, the gold metal of his rings digging into Keith’s fingers, and pulls Keith forward into a kiss that he wasn’t entirely sure was coffee shop appropriate.
“Can you cut that shit out? People read the Bible in here.” Pidge calls from the doorway.
“Sorry, Pidgie,” Lance says sheepishly, pulling away from Keith, “Thanks for the coffee.”
His mouth tastes like Lance’s strawberry Carmex and green tea. Keith accepts the hot strawberry mocha that’s handed to him and takes a sip, but he’s watching Lance like he’s the only star in the sky.
To Keith, he might as well be. There wasn’t room for much else in Keith’s night sky, anyways.
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honeeysagee · 5 months ago
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Come In With The Rain
Sam W. x Bucky B. AU: where Sam is a cafe owner in Delacroix and a new mechanic, Bucky, blows into town.
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For the first time that summer, it rained. And not just a gentle drizzle, but a full-on downpour. The sky hung low and gray, and the air was thick and muggy as if you had been standing under a dense canopy for hours. The scent of wet earth and damp trees filled the air, with water still dripping from the branches, making the humidity cling to your skin.
For Sam Wilson, the rain signaled a slow day at the shop, but it hardly deterred him. There were plenty of tasks awaiting his attention in the back. One project, in particular, caught his eye: the small battery-powered car he had promised to fix for his nephews, AJ and Cass. It had been months since he made that promise, and today, with the rain pouring down outside, he finally had the time.
For AJ and Cass, the rain meant a monotonous day at the shop, confined to their uncle’s watchful gaze.
As Sam tinkered with his toolbox, occasionally glancing at the shop’s door in anticipation of the bell's chime, he decided to focus on the car. He would look over at his nephews now and then, catching their admiring gazes before they quickly returned to their homework, pretending to be studious. Sam chuckled softly.
The rain drummed on the roof, creating a steady, soothing rhythm. Sam glanced out the window, watching the heavy drops splatter against the road, turning it into a shimmering, reflective surface. A few cars braved the weather, but most remained parked under the awning across the street, seeking shelter from the deluge. Sam flipped on the coffee machine and lit a fire for the boys to keep them warm.
After dusting off his hands, Sam stretched and groaned, then turned to his nephews. "Grilled cheese and soup?" he asked. Both boys perked up instantly. Sam smiled down at them, his grin widening as he led them to the kitchen, memories of his childhood flooding back.
Sam had been around 15 when his father owned the café. He spent countless afternoons and weekends there, working alongside his dad. He'd wander the kitchen with a grilled cheese sandwich in one hand and a hammer in the other. While his father managed the café, Sam busied himself in the back, fixing anything he could get his hands on. That same passion still drives him today, and he often felt his father's guiding hand on his shoulder whenever he cooked or repaired something.
Now, those days are just lingering in the back of his mind. But, they aren't forgotten. Not by a long shot.
"Mom is cooking fish tonight if you want to come over," AJ stated as he pulled bread from a cabinet. Sarah had mentioned it when she dropped the boys off, but Sam told her no. He figured he would be too tired from work today, but the storm came. He shrugged, "I don't know, buddy. How about I come over tomorrow?" AJ frowned, and Sam added, "Plus, tomorrow is the big game. Saints versus Cowboys. Don't we have a bet going on?" AJ brightened considerably at this prospect, "Don't you mean the bet that you're going to lose."
Sam rolled his eyes affectionately. After minutes, the food was ready, and the boys were back in their original seats. They ate in companionable silence while their uncle fiddled with his tools.
Then, the door of the shop was pushed open. The sound drew Sam's attention away from the engine in front of him, and he looked up to see a soaking wet man walking through the door. His clothes clung to his body, and his hair clung to his forehead, sticking straight up like porcupine quills. He looked miserable. Sam almost laughed.
Almost.
He had seen more than his fair share of grumpy customers - ones that didn’t take nicely to his jokes or helping hands. So, instead of asking how the weather was, he asked, “Welcome to the Wilson’s Café.” Sam stood again, his bones growing tired. “Looks like you need help.”
The stranger looked upwards - his eyes matching the clouds of the storm. Rainwater trickled down his sharp features, clinging to his long, dark hair that hung in wet strands around his face. His leather jacket, soaked through, clung to his broad shoulders, giving him a rugged, almost forlorn appearance. As he stepped into the warmth of the cafe, water dripped from his jeans and boots, pooling slightly on the floor. He ran a gloved hand through his hair, attempting to push it back but only managing to slick it further. Despite his bedraggled state, there was a quiet intensity in his steel-blue eyes that captured Sam's attention from behind the table.
"Um," His voice matched everything about him, "Just needed to come in from the rain."
Sam nodded, "You got it," he replied. He gestured to a nearby stool that was stationed by the fireplace, "Would you like some tea? It's very hot." The man eyed the stool warily. Sam added, "First drink on the house."
"You're lucky. We never get our drinks on the house." Cass threw the statement to the stranger, which made Sam roll his eyes. "How do you like your tea?" he asked pointedly. The stranger glanced up at the menu that hung over Sam's head. His eyes shifted left to right before looking back at Sam. "Earl Grey. Medium sugar. Thanks."
The man was short with Sam, which made him push his eyebrows together in confusion. He was new here definitely, he thought to himself. New to the area, anyway. Sam fixed the tea with ease - an order he frequently made for himself on days like this. Then, he marched the warm cup to the man with a leftover grilled cheese.
"On the house too." Sam mumbled. The man grunted and took the mug wordlessly, holding it close to his chest. "Thanks."
Sam returned to his work as the boys focused less on their food and homework and more on the silent stranger who was staring into the fire. Sam would occasionally make a face at the boys which would cause them to turn away but never for too long. As the silence grew so did his frustration with the engine of the small car.
"So, why do you look like that?" AJ asked.
"AJ!" Sam called out. When AJ merely raised his eyebrows innocently, Sam shook his head and sighed. "It's rude to ask strangers stuff like that."
AJ nodded seriously in agreement. "Sorry, sir."
Sam sighed and shook his head, "Okay, you know the drill. Dishes in the sink, and head upstairs," He helped them place their things into a backpack, "No fighting. No biting, and no,"
"Crying." The boys finished in unison. Sam only nodded and patted them on their heads. After they left the room, Sam fixed himself a cup of coffee and headed to the man. "I apologize my nephews. They kind of just speak their minds whenever they want."
The man nodded silently. His eyes trailed over the tools littering the floor with the car - the hammer, the wrench, the pliers. His head nodded to them, "You fix toys?"
Sam shook his head, "Not usually, but I made that thing for the boys, and it doesn't work." He pointed to the engine. "I tried everything that I can think of, but nothing seems to be able to work. And my nephews are getting restless just spending their evenings on homework," he joked, trying to make light of the situation. The man smiled wryly and Sam wondered what had caused such a sour expression. "What makes it tick?" The man asked.
"The engine's busted. Doesn't turn on."
He hummed, then, he stood from the stool. "May I?" He asked, picking up a tool.
Sam was his opportunity. "I usually don't let people touch my tools unless I get their name." The man raised his eyebrows as he began to unscrew the panel covering the engine compartment, revealing the wiring beneath. "It's James," he began, a sly smile playing upon his lips, "But, everyone calls me Bucky." Sam watched as the man slid his fingers inside the wires - his interest peaked by the minute.
"I'm Sam."
Bucky looked up. "It's nice to meet you, Sam." He said sincerely, his voice echoing throughout the cafe. Once the last of the wires was removed, Bucky settled to the floor. His dark blue eyes met Sam's brown ones. "You can ask me."
He had read Sam's face; and saw that he wanted to know more about this stranger who blew into the cafe and started fixing the engine on a fake car. Sam nodded and leaned against the counter. "It's not often we get newcomers. Are you new in town or just passing through?" He asked, curious but cautious nonetheless. He was known to pry too much too soon. So, he kept his distance and just tried to make small talk.
"Not sure yet."
Sam watched as Bucky worked, his deft fingers maneuvering through the tangled wires with ease. It was clear that Bucky had experience with mechanical work, his movements precise and confident. The rain continued to beat against the windows, a constant rhythm that seemed to match the methodical movements of Bucky’s hands.
"You're good at this," Sam remarked, unable to hide his curiosity. Bucky glanced up, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Spent a lot of time fixing things," he said simply, returning his attention to the engine. Sam studied the man closely; his gaze trailing along Bucky’s body, examining every curve, every freckle. Even though it wasn’t obvious from where he was seated, Sam could tell that Bucky was built like a brick house. Strong, sturdy arms, strong thighs, strong calves… Sam’s eyes lingered longer on Bucky’s waist. A little more defined abs than Sam was used to seeing.
Bucky noticed Sam watching him and cleared his throat awkwardly, pulling Sam from his thoughts. He coughed and sat forward on the stool he was perched upon, placing his hands on the countertop in front of him, "Your wiring was wrong. Common mistake."
"Thanks," Sam stated. "Think it will drive now?"
Bucky shrugged, "Maybe, if you get a new battery too. Dead ones don't make the car go."
Sam raised his eyebrows and grabbed his coffee mug. The coffee ran cold by now. Time seemed to speed by when he watched Bucky work. "Pas besoin d'être un connard." Sam whispered to himself softly. His gaze flickered over Bucky once again, who was chuckling into his cup.
"No need to be an asshole."
"French?" He asked, raising one brow. "Je ne voulais pas te contrarier. Pardonne-moi."
"I didn't want to upset you. Please forgive me."
Sam snorted quietly, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. "You're forgiven." He lifted the mug and placed it on the counter with more force than necessary. "So, what brought you to Delacroix, Bucky?" His name tasted like honey in his mouth.
"I couldn't spend another night in the truck, so I decided to stretch my legs, and then, the storm caught me." His words were soft, barely audible as a slight shiver racked his entire being. "Not to mention, I saw the help wanted sign outside the shop," He cleared his throat, "I'm terrible at coffee, but I'm good with my hands."
Sam glanced down at them, which was covered by dark leather gloves. Sam nodded slowly. "Yeah," His tone was soft, "I noticed. I mean. it would be nice to have some help. I have a lot of projects back there that need to be finished," He leaned on the corner, "But, I still need to give you the interview. Can't just have anyone in my shop."
Bucky nodded, but Sam could see his mind was elsewhere with that statement. Sam was known for prying more than he should, offending people where he shouldn't, and he enjoyed it for the most part. He liked to watch people tick and wanted to know how to make them do so, but his mind had already decided that Bucky would not be one of those people - if he could help it. He started easy.
"Where are you from?" A simple question that made Bucky's face twitch. "Originally from Brooklyn. Moved around a lot." His eyes flickered towards him as if he were searching Sam's. "La maison est partout si vous la cherchez. My mother's saying."
"Home is everywhere if you are looking for it."
"Well, have you found it?" Sam whispered like a secret between them was about to be shared. Bucky matched his energy, "Not yet, but I'm not looking for it." Sam hummed as he thought.
"How soon can you start?" The sentence floated between the both of them, as they exchanged glances for several seconds before Sam pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth. Bucky smiled, showing his perfect teeth, and Sam swallowed - taking note that the man before him had no flaws.
"Tomorrow would be great."
"Good," Sam muttered. "We need a new face around here," His eyes flitted up to meet the man, a small smirk tugging at his lips. Then, he glanced over at the shop's window, realizing the rain had stopped. He quickly wiped his hands on his jeans, then stood from the counter. "I have to get the boys over to my sister's place. I can show you around," Sam offered, "If you're up for it."
Bucky smiled softly. "That sounds like fun." The grin on his lips grew wider, "Lead the way." Sam walked to the wall opposite of them and let his knuckles rap the wood in four hard taps. Suddenly, a door from upstairs came bursting open with the patterns of small footsteps following. His nephews were down the stairs, huffing and puffing.
"Who's ready to see Ma?" He grinned, his nephews answering in unison with enthusiastic yeses.
With a laugh, he stepped aside. "This is Bucky. He’ll be helping me with repairs for now. So, you have to treat him nice, alright?" The two children nodded solemnly as Bucky stood awkwardly next to their bubbling energy. It almost reminded him of his sister back home. His heart ached for a moment before he was pulled back into the moment by Sam speaking to him, "Are you ready to meet Delacroix?"
Bucky nodded. "Of course." He followed him as Sam opened the front door. The streets glistened under the soft glow of the streetlamps, their reflection in the puddles creating a mirror image of the world above.
The air was cool and fresh, with a crispness that only a day-long rain could bring. Bucky pulled his jacket tighter around him, feeling the gentle embrace of the damp, clean air. He looked around, taking in the quaint charm of the town. The buildings were a mix of old and new, their brick and wood facades adorned with ivy and flower boxes that overflowed with vibrant blooms, glistening with raindrops.
Bucky felt a sense of ease washing over him. Sam turned to Bucky with a smile. "Thanks for walking with us. It's nice to have some company."
Bucky nodded, appreciating the kindness. "Thanks for the tea and grilled cheese. It was just what I needed." Sam chuckled. "Anytime. And about that job—we'll talk more tomorrow. Get settled in tonight."
Bucky nodded again, feeling a sense of anticipation for the days ahead. "Sounds good."
The evening was calm, the air fresh after the rain. Sam looked at Bucky, seeing a potential friend and ally. "You know, this place could use someone like you. Maybe you'll find what you're looking for here."
Bucky met his gaze, a small smile forming on his lips. "I hope so, Sam. I really do." They shared smiles. Sam could almost feel something else lingering underneath the surface of the smile that rested on Bucky's features, but it wasn't exactly clear. He looked back towards, noticing the lights flickering slightly against the raindrops. Somewhere in the air, Sam swore he could feel it that day, there was hope of something beautiful blooming.
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autumnwoodsdreamer · 29 days ago
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WiP Wednesday 16/10/24
Getting that last chapter posted has unstuck the dreaded writer’s block a touch, so here’s a bit of the next chapter of Unsinkable
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Kia gifted Din his new hearing aids with no great ceremony.
She simply dropped a small box messily wrapped shut with paper and too much tape on the table at breakfast one morning, giving it a short shove to send it to the middle of the table.
Din had to stand slightly out of his chair to reach for it. Before he retrieved it, he lifted his brows in a silent request for permission, just to be polite.
Kia gave a curt nod, her expression unchanged.
She looked uninterested and uninvested, like this was some cheap thing she was handing over, not a thing she had poured hours upon hours of intricate skill and hard work into. She sat back in her own seat, arms folded, head turning and eyes flitting away to watch Cookie come trundling in, toting three trays of steaming breakfast foods—too much food for just one man but Din hadn’t been able to convince the droid he just wanted a ration bar.
She didn’t move again but her gaze switched back to Din, quick and sharp and secret, like she was doing something she wasn’t supposed to. The corner of her mouth ticked—a sliver of anxiety slipping through a crack.
Din pretended not to notice her watching him, focussing instead on prying up the ragged end of the tape with his blunt, stained nails. It was taking too long and the packaging wasn’t standing up to the attempted delicacy: the brown paper ripped easily—far easier than the tape—so he gave up and tore it asunder in one clean motion.
The box was plain but littered with the faint remnants of labels peeled off. It smelled vaguely of something sweet—some kind of candy, Din supposed. He could feel something light and hard rattling around inside.
He knew it was the hearing aids, but he didn’t know what they would look like. A part of him anticipated something identical to his old pair, but these…
These were a work of art.
Two moulded blobs—shaped just so to fit snug in his ears—with thin, clear cords leading to curved pieces of tech: batteries and receivers, if he wasn’t mistaken. They were twice as light as his old pair, slimmer and more likely to hold onto the shell of his ear.
“They’re silver,” he commented.
“They can be any colour you want; that’s not difficult to change,” Kia said.
Din set the empty box down and turned the hearing aids over in the palm of his hand. “People usually make them flesh-coloured.”
“If you want that, that’s fine; we can do that. But they’re a part of your life—they should be what you want them to be.”
“I like the silver. Thank you.”
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anxiousgaypanicking · 10 months ago
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Okay, so I have a request 🙈 -that you can feel free to ignore- because my real life situation is frickin setting up for a smut plot but I'm not activating it 😂 but one of the Sides 👀👀👀 definitely would. So a roommate who constantly makes noise like he's getting off/fucked and like, lays in bed twitching like he's got somethin in his ass 👀 so what happens when someone buys him a thrusting/vibrating dildo/plug via Amazon and it shows up when he's home alone. Does he use it alone? Does he get caught by the roommate who bought it? That day? Eventually? Ever? I'd love to know your take. Pairing of your choice. -😳
Home Alone
Demus (Janus x Remus) Warnings: toys, plugs, hair pulling, thigh fucking
"I don't remember ordering a package," Remus mumbles, scratching at his stubble as he leans in the doorway of his house. He's staring at a box placed at the front door, addressed to him, but the contents unknown. 
Sure, Janus often has things shipped to their house - they are roommates after all - but he puts his name on those packages, and gets rather pissy when Remus snoops inside of them, claiming "that's illegal" and that he'll "send Remus to the pound" if he does it again.
Perhaps this was something Remus has ordered while drunk, and simply forgot. That's happened more than once, after all. 
He grins and grabs the package, so delighted with himself that he basically skips inside. Sure, he may not remember what's in here, but he's looking at this situation like it's a nice, surprising gift! Anything could be in here, and Remus had quite the vivid imagination, which meant this box delighted him immensely. 
The mere thought that this could be anything from a bomb to a basic tee-shirt entertains his hyperactive mind as he tosses the box onto the couch, and then falls onto it after, laying on his stomach as his sharp nails dig into the packing tape. 
Effortlessly, he pokes his finger through the material, and then slices it open, gathering up and then tossing the sticky strips carelessly to the floor, knowing he'll probably get an earful for making a mess when Janus gets home from grocery shopping.  Then, he's opening the box up.
 Inside is a thick, black plug, and a small remote folded within an equally minute packet of instructions printed in small, hard-to-read lettering. Immediately, Remus is whooping as he rolls onto the floor, barely stunned by his back hitting the ground as he rushes to dig the plug out of the packing peanuts and set the remote on the table.
"Man, I sure do love spoiling myself!" he exclaims excitedly, congratulating himself on his unplanned purchase. 
Tipping the remote over, he slides the back open and checks it for batteries, only to see a plug instead. At the bottom of the box is a small charging cord. Remus hums as he stands and brings his new toy to his room, immediately sitting near an outlet and plugging the remote in. He lets it charge until a small light on the remote glows blue, where he's hitting what he presumes to be the "on" button (a big button in the center, with two smaller ones below and above it).
Immediately, the plug starts buzzing with intense vibrations, making Remus squeal. He grabs the plug with his hand, holding it as he takes his time hitting the small button on top until the plug seems to reach its max intensity, and then doing the same thing with the lower button until the plug stops vibrating at all. It seems to have a wide range of vibrations that have Remus kicking his feet with anticipation.
"Thank you, Past Me, for surprising Present Me with a lovely little toy!" Remus babbles out loud, already shimmying his clothes off. He mumbles a silly response to himself of "you're welcome, Present Me. Aren't I a genius?"
His shirt and pants discarded, Remus is quick to reach toward his nightstand and feel around for lube, which he's quick to pop open once he finds. He doesn't care that he's still seated on his floor; all he cares about is pouring an excessive amount of lube on the toy and then picking it up, bending down to be on his forearms and knees as he teasingly drags the plug between his cheeks.
He leaves a trail of lube between his crack, before he slowly pushes the toy into his hole, moaning loudly as he feels himself stretch around it. He's sexual enough normally that he didn't bother to finger himself open beforehand, but this plug makes him feel pleasantly full, especially after Remus pushes it in up to its base.
Moaning obscenely loud, Remus lets his face push against the floor, working the plug slowly in and out of him just to tease himself, before he pushes it in fully and then lets it go.
It fills him up so nicely, and as he sits back on his calves he can't help but slap his own ass and grin. Damn, he's sexy.
The plug seemingly fits perfectly inside of him, or so he'd claim, but the plug itself isn't that exciting on its own. What really delights him is the remote that came with it, of which Remus is eager to grab and click on.
Immediately, medium vibrations are pleasuring his ass, making him squirm happily as he pushes his chest against the floor, presenting his ass into the air.
His door is wide open, but he's home alone, so his noises of pleasure echo throughout the house.
His thumb caresses the remote as he debates between flicking it as high as it can go, or lowering the vibrations and edging himself just to be a tease.
Finally, he settles on raising it a bit, and then sitting back on his knees, groaning as he messes with the plug. He pulls it out just enough for the widest part of the plug to stretch around his hole, and then pushes it back in deep, clenching around the toy as he fidgets with it until he can feel it pressing against his prostate. Violent vibrations torture the bundle of nerves, making him cry out a sultry "oh, fuck!" followed by a loud and nasally moan.
That just so happens to be the noise Janus is greeted with as he opens their front door.
He can't really feel anything but amusement and a sense of pride as he listens to Remus no doubt play with the toy he bought. After all, he'd gotten the alert that his package was delivered this morning, and it isn't on the porch waiting for him. But why would it be? He'd addressed it to Remus, after all.
Janus sets his groceries down on the kitchen floor, directing them towards the counter with his foot before he shamelessly struts to Remus's room, not surprised to find the door wide open.
Smugly, he leans in the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest. "Hm," he begins, loud enough to get Remus's attention, "I see you're enjoying your little gift."
Unsurprisingly, Remus isn't ashamed of being caught at all. In fact, he doesn't even bother to pause his playing while talking, just grinning wide at Janus as he grinds down on the toy as best he can.
But Remus still picks up on the implications of Janus's comment, and smiles wide as he slides the toy out a little bit once more. "So that explains why I don't remember buying it!" he exclaims, before moaning loudly as he shoves the plug back in, muffling it's intense vibrations. "But why question a good thing?"
His words are routinely broken by his lewd noises, but he still gathers enough breath to ask "may I know why you've decided to spoil me all of a sudden?"
"Don't make it sound so sweet," Janus chastises, as he pushes Remus's bedroom door closed. He strides towards Remus without hesitation, and helps him off the floor and onto the bed, pulling the remote from Remus's hands in the process. "I did this selfishly. Your gift was completely for my benefit."
Remus moans. "How so?"
Janus clicks the toy down until the vibrations cease entirely, making Remus whine immediately. When he goes to complain, he's silenced by Janus raising his hand, clearly about to offer an explanation. And though Remus is impatient, he's also curious, and so can settle on clenching around the toy until Janus is done.
"You're loud," comes Janus's immediate response. "Very loud. Even with your door shut I can hear your perverted moans seeping into the living room, interrupting my shows or distracting me from work. It's really inconsiderate, you know." Janus moves closer, before waving Remus up.
"Get on the bed," he orders, and Remus scrambles to obey immediately despite the fact they've not done anything sexual previously. He's still inclined to obey.
Remus immediately rolls onto his chest, lifting his ass into the air and bringing one of his hands back to pull his ass cheek to the side in order to show Janus the plug's base, with the toy itself nestled comfortably inside of him.
"Do you know how much of a tease you are?" Janus continues, and Remus can feel him kneeling on the bed behind him. "Always torturing me with your whorish noises, and never inviting me to touch?"
"I thought that could be assumed," Remus responds, only to jolt and moan when he feels a harsh slap to his ass in response.
"Shut up." Janus is firm, and swats Remus's groping hand away after a moment, taking to running his own hands over Remus's cheeks, groping them to his liking before he spreads them apart and grabs the base of the plug, slowly pulling it out before pushing it back in, repeating the process a few times before he's seemingly over Remus's quiet grunts of pleasure.
Janus's hands slide away from Remus's body, making Remus turn his head back to try and catch a glance of him, only for the plug inside of him to suddenly buzz to life once more. He cries out immediately, arching his chest further against the bed while his cock leaks onto his comforter.
"It's powerful, isn't it?" Janus commentates, knowing Remus isn't going to respond. "I made sure to get something stimulating enough to keep you interested. You seem like the needy type, after all."
"How'd- how'd you guess?" Remus gasps out, between moans.
Janus smirks. "I'm very perceptive."
There's the sound of a zipper, followed by lube, and then Remus feels Janus's hand dance across the back of his thighs.
"I can assume the answer, but just to make sure, this is okay, right?" Janus asks, pausing for a moment. Remus is quick to affirmatively answer, making Janus grin before his hands are placed on the sides of his thighs.
Momentarily, Remus wonders what he's going to do, before he feels Janus sliding his cocks - two?! - between his legs, rubbing them against Remus's own cock and closing his thighs around them to give him more friction.
"It'd be a waste to pull that plug out of you," Janus muses, as he shifts the toy around a few times before pressing it up against Remus's prostate, making Remus cry out in sudden pleasure. "Especially after how much I spent on it. You really owe me, you know." Grinding slightly, Janus rubs his cocks over Remus's own, making them both moan.
His arm slides around Remus's waist, and grabs all of their cocks to the best of his ability, squeezing them against each other.
"Two cocks," Remus moans, tongue brazenly out of his mouth as he pants like a dog. "You're a fucking freak. That's so hot!"
Janus scoffs. Here Remus is, letting his roommate use him like a toy, and he's the freak? Hmph.
In response, he squeezes his hand roughly around their cocks, stroking them hard and fast and making himself groan as he leans over Remus's back. His free hand fiddles with the toy's remote, and he lowers the intensity a few notches. When Remus whines, Janus just says "we don't want you spoiling our fun too soon, do we?"
Realistically, even if Remus came too soon for Janus's liking, he'd just overstimulate him until he was satisfied.
"Turn the vibe up," Remus pleads, through dramatic sobs of pleasure. "Pretty please?"
Out of spite, Janus drops the remote onto the bed and grabs Remus's hair instead, pulling his head back and watching drool roll down Remus's chin. The lower half of his face is a mess of spit, and he's careless in moaning louder at the feeling of Janus's fingers tangled in his messy locks.
"Fuck!"
Janus curses under his breath at how vocal Remus is. He knew this would be the case; that's why he was encouraged to do this in the first place, but being in the room with him and listening to him moan and cry with each stroke of his cock or fidget of the plug made Janus realize just how sensually sensitive he is. No wonder he's so loud; a brush against his nipples or a thumb over the slit of his cock probably has him nearing an orgasm almost instantaneously!
Janus keeps one of his hands knotted in Remus's hair, and tugs his head occasionally just to earn a pained whine, while his hand speeds up on their cocks. Remus really is quite the teasing slut.
"I should have done this sooner," Janus grunts, lips pressing against Remus's neck. His sharp teeth scratch Remus's imperfect flesh, dragging over scars and moles and random patches of rough skin that Janus leisurely lets his tongue roll over. With the plug vibrating so low, Remus is the one that's feeling truly cheated. Yes, it's pleasurable, but it's not enough. If Janus wasn't stroking him off right now, he'd be saying a lot more!
"Please," Remus begs, shooting his shot with pleading once more. "Turn it up! Need it, please!" 
Janus sharply tugs on Remus's hair, earning a cry of desperation, but finally slides his fingers out of it after a moment, watching Remus's head fall quick onto the pillow beneath him, moist with his spit. Despite how fun it is hearing him moan and cry, Janus didn't spend an absurd amount of money on this remote-controlled vibrator just to not use the remote. That'd be silly. 
He grabs it, clutching it tight as he works his hand over his cocks, rubbing them against Remus's quickly. Without a word, he's flicking the remote up a few notches, watching Remus push his chest into the bed as he moans out Janus's name. 
"So hot!" Remus gasps, feeling the plug torture his prostate. "I don't- I don't-" he gasps, before steadying his voice just enough to express "I don't know how I'm going to take this toy out. I want to keep it inside me forever!" 
"Gross," Janus utters, but he clicks the vibe up another peg. He doesn't doubt that Remus will get plenty of use out of the plug, but he'd rather Remus take it out once in a while, lest they want a hospital trip on their calendar. 
Moaning loudly, Remus's fingers drag across the sheets as he rocks his hips, feeling Janus's hand pump his cock and the plug jostle in his ass. He feels so hot. 
And then Janus is turning the plug up all the way, maximum vibrations torturing Remus's prostate with little more than a soft click, which has him crying out immediately "I'm close! I'm close!" 
He's so loud, so shameless, and so quick to come after announcing his approaching orgasm. Clearly, he was a lot closer than he claimed, and his semen spurts over the sheets in thick ropes, until his cock hangs leaky and spent. 
Janus strokes him through his orgasm, before pulling his hand back and turning the vibe down low. Not off, low. Then, he scoots back just enough to push Remus's thighs further together, and leans over him, promptly fucking his thighs as quick as he possibly can. Lube slicks up the sides of Remus's legs, with Janus's cocks rubbing against each other and Remus's flaccid shaft, which seems excited by the brief contact it gets with each thrust until it's twitching and hardening once more. 
"Whore," Janus spits, though his words are more amused than anything else. "If you get hard again you're on your own." 
Remus whines, fully intending to stroke himself off again once Janus comes. And he wants Janus to come. 
"Make a mess of me," Remus pleads, clenching around the plug in his ass. He lifts his body up so that his back is weirdly bent, and so the top of his head is against the pillow, facing toward Janus's rocking hips and his own limp cock.  Tongue hanging out of his mouth, Remus implores Janus "come on my face! Fucking ruin me!" 
And Janus does. With little more than a moan of his own, Janus thrusts his cocks hard between Remus's thighs, and comes. He makes a mess of Remus's chest, the bed, and Remus's face. His come spills over Remus's cheeks, lips, and even gets into his hair, meaning that when Janus pulls back and Remus rolls over, he gets to see the fruits of his labor. 
Remus licks his mouth. 
"Fuck," he curses, panting. His half-lidded eyes observe Janus from across the bed. They both just stay for a moment, catching their breaths, before Remus goes "so... do I get another sex toy the next time you want to bang?" which promptly gets Janus throwing the remote at Remus's chest. 
"Buy your own damn toy," he huffs, before tucking his cocks back into his pants. "And close your door. Especially at night." He pinches the bridge of his nose, recalling the many sleepless nights he's had as a result of Remus getting horny at two in the morning. 
Remus just laughs in response. 
But as Janus gets up to leave, smoothing out his clothes and running his fingers through his sweaty hair to straighten it out, Remus calls "feel free to use me any time you'd like, though." 
Janus glances at him and sees Remus scooping Janus's come off his face and sucking it off his fingers, before Remus adds "after all, I'm going to be moaning your name a lot more after this. It's only fair that you come be the one to make me moan it, y'know?" 
Janus rolls his eyes, and doesn't respond, but Remus knows he'll be back. And until Janus decides to use him again, Remus had a new remote control toy that he could turn up whenever he so desired. Such as right now. 
And as Janus pulls his door shut, he hears muffled buzzing, followed by a crescendo of moans that Janus knows will echo through the house until Remus is done. 
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ratcatcher0325 · 2 years ago
Text
A Fraction of Justice (Chapter #27)
Happy March everyone!
Chapter #27. Natalie discovers why Alexander has summoned her home so quickly.
Previous: Chapter #26
Next: Chapter #28
Word Count: 5,700 Read Time: Approx. 44 mins
CW: adult language, angst 
Tag list: @gatlily @patrocolus3 @beautifulunknowntrash @titan-god-420 @andraimeide @themarlo @cup-o-chai @lucentbliss @raccoontoaster @tolsizedlove @not-a-space-alien , @thegodmother007 , @honey-olive , @bittykimmy13 , @aceouttatime , @imvenusasaboy , @liminaldaze , @windshield-patent , @joxter-coded , @rosella35 , @narrans , @rubeau-art , @littlescaryinternetguy , @jae-from-discord , @kitn-underfoot , @secretly-small @writing-forever , @iinogongju , @tales-of-aestus-deactivated2023 , @itsgothgirlthyme , @make-me-giant , @reborrowing , @whatthisfemsheplikes
Btw, DM me if you wanna be added to the tag list!
___________________________________
A Fraction of Justice
Chapter #27: A Balm for the Mind
[Natalie’s POV]
I tore across my living room, ducked through the kitchen and raced down the short hallway to my bedroom door, before thrusting it open and practically tripping on the corner of my dresser, I finally managed to shove the bathroom door aside. As I pushed at the barrier separating me from the tiny man in my sink, I couldn’t help but feel a catch in my throat as fear trickled down my spine.
“A-Alexander? Are you there? Are you hurt? Are you okay? What was the big emergency? What do you need??” The words were pouring out of my mouth like a dam bursting forth, uncontrollable and overwhelming.
As I whipped around the corner, I heard him before I laid eyes on him. He didn’t miss a beat and the second I started shouting, he matched me with equal fervor, although the poor thing could never hope to match me in volume, “It’s about time, Natalie! Where were you??” That’s when my panicked gaze locked on to those familiar, tiny, blue eyes. There he was perfectly safe; this little life wading in the shallow pool of water in my sink basin. His left knee was bent, and tucked into his chest. His hair was wet, the roots darker than normal, as his locks stuck to his skull in an unkempt way, falling in tendrils into his eyes. He seemed… perfectly fine.
There was no blood, no scene of chaos, no cat, no disturbance of any kind, “Alexander what the fuck?? Is this your sick attempt at a joke?? I almost killed like three people just to get back—“
He cut me off with a hurried gesture before placing his index finger over his lips, and pointing at the ceiling with his other hand. His eyes followed the trajectory of the point. Was this part of the joke? Was he trying to scare me? I opened my mouth to demand an answer when he hurriedly shushed me. I stood there, baffled, utterly confused and beginning to get pretty ticked off, when it happened.
The sound was instantly recognizable: sharp, piercing, blunt. It was the chirp of the smoke detector begging for a battery swap. The disturbance made Alexander’s shoulders twitch as he immediately recoiled, groaning, as if at the end of his rope.
“…. Okay? Is, is that it?” Surely there was something I was missing here.
He leaned forward, rippling the water around him as he raised his brows, an utterly incredulous look on his face, “What do you mean ‘is that it’?? Do you have ears?? It’s grating! Did you not get my texts??—“ he was off on a tangent, but I couldn’t help the steam rising in my ears.
“Alexander!” That was a bit more forceful than I’d intended. He shut up, but flames still burned behind his eyes, “You made me lose my goddamn mind and literally almost murder someone, not to mention the copious traffic violations or the fact that my car is blocking a one way alley right now, because you had to listen to a mildly annoying sound for a few minutes??”
“First of all, Natalie, it started going off almost the moment you left. I’ve been suffering for nearly an hour at this point. Additionally, for both our sakes, I was attempting memory recall in regards to the vet, but that became instantaneously impossible the moment that godforsaken machine started its repetitive screech. I’ve got a splitting headache, I’m dehydrated, the water’s bone-chillingly cold and you forgot to give me any medication before you left on your oh-so-important errands so I am in rather significant pain. So please, please tell me, at the very least, you got the 9 volt battery I asked for and that you’ll save my auditory receptors from any more damage today.”
The poor little man had to shout over every one of those piercing chirps. I furrowed my brow and pouted my lip, “Oh! Oh you poor thing! I didn’t realize! Forty five whole minutes of pure agony, huh?” I placed my hand over my heart in mock concern. He was so absorbed in his own pity party he didn’t even realize I was being sarcastic.
“Yes! Yes!! It was truly awful. I sent an array of messages with detailed instructions…”
“And on top of all that, the water’s all cold and you weren’t even able to relax…”
“Precisely! I’m so glad you see it— wait—“ his eyes narrowed as he folded his arms over his chest, “You’re making fun of me aren’t you?”
“The little scholar cracks the case!” I shouldered the door frame, sporting a self-satisfied smile.
The little man rolled his eyes, leaning his back against the sink basin, “Natalie, please, you’ve put me through enough. Don’t pour salt in the wound.”
“I’ve put you—?? Little bastard, how many times do I have to emphasize I almost ran over a little old lady to get back here just for you to be a whiny bitch about a minor inconvenience?!”
“Well you don’t have to be so hyperbolic about it! You’re embarrassing yourself—”
I couldn’t help but raise my brow, “I genuinely wonder, sometimes, wether you can hear yourself speak…”
He sighed, catching my gaze, “The alarm… please. I’m about to jump out of my skin. And… well, I can’t exactly get it myself…” he broke eye contact and craned his neck to the ceiling far above his little frame.
“I should let it chirp all night. All it would take is a pair of earplugs and I’d be blissfully unaware.”
If looks could kill…
For someone who could barely wrap himself around my thumb, he could serve up quite the threatening glare. We locked off for a while, neither of us giving ground.
Finally, I shook my head. Who was I kidding? I let my shoulders drop from my ears. I couldn’t say no to him. If anyone was wrapped up, it was me around his tiny finger. You’re lucky I like you, little nightmare.
I approached the sink, he was still stiff and skeptical, unsure if he’d won this battle. I dipped my hand into the water, which, in his defense, was rather cold, “Come here… let’s get you warmed up…” My thumb moved to cover his chest, while my fingers curled around his back. He opened his mouth to speak, resisting my grip with tiny but determined hands, “… and I’ll get the alarm, just give me a second. I can’t do two things at once…” his lips pressed into a thin line at that. At least he finally shut up for just a second!
The pads of my fingers squeezed around his shivering torso, as I lifted him easily into the air. He gripped the pad of my thumb, wet hair in his eyes. I quickly met the left side of his body with my opposite hand, clutching a washcloth. He hadn’t quite managed a full on thank you, but I heard a little murmur of delight escape his lips when the warmth of my hands and the towel started to thaw him out. I couldn’t help it, even after he’d just pissed me off five seconds ago, I couldn’t keep myself from brushing his hair aside with the tip of my thumb. He could feel my gaze on him and the touch caught his attention enough to look up at me.
At almost the same instant that his clear, blue irises locked with my golden-green ones, his little face flushed with color and he suddenly seemed to find the countertop far beneath his feet to be a significantly more interesting subject to stare at. I, too, felt my temperature rise as I was compelled to work on the alarm and let the little man be by himself for a moment. He said not a word and neither did I. Setting him down in a bundle of fabric on the counter, I clamored up, one foot on the lip of the bathtub, the other on the closed lid of the toilet, “You happy, Your Majesty? I’m finally completing your Royal decree!” I shouted over a chirp which was now very much in my ear and made my head buzz.
He leaned forward, his left shoulder exposed, his palm flat against the cool surface of the countertop. He was watching me intently, “Are you sure that’s the safest way to do that?” Was that concern I heard in his tiny voice?
“Ahh, sure, I’ve done it like this a bunch of times. I don’t own a step-stool and I’m never gonna manage to fit a chair in here so… this is fine…” I turned my attention to fidgeting with the grey plastic circle with its blinking LED light and awful noise making. I managed to pull it from the ceiling with an easy twist and pinch on each side, but as I went to shift my weight to jump down, my foot pressed into the rounded curve of the bathtub, slipped, and I lost my balance.
“Natalie!” A little bundle of fabric jerked forward, arm outstretched. In the next heartbeat, I caught myself, gripping the counter in front of me and stopping my fall. We locked eyes for a moment before I hopped down.
When my feet returned to steady ground, I ripped the dead battery from the inner compartment of the smoke detector. During this, he’d settled back down, his good leg dangling over the cliff’s edge that was the lip of the counter. I placed the now, thankfully, silent hunk of plastic beside the sink and kneeled down, resting my chin in my hands, gazing at the back of a tiny, wet mess of blonde hair. After a few moments of silence, he turned over his shoulder, irritated, “What???”
“Don’t play dumb with me… you know what…”
He immediately turned away again, running fingers through his wet locks, “I don’t know what you’re talking about…” he practically mumbled into the fabric. I slid my finger across his sternum, hooking his chin and pulling his face towards me. He was flushed bright pink. I melted a little.
“What was that? You have to speak up…” he shoved at my finger, shaking his head and trying his damndest to hide his blush, I continued, a smile blossoming across my face, “You were worried about me! You give a shit, don’t you? All this stone cold bullshit? It’s an act and I’ve finally caught you red handed. You do have a heart in there after all….” I prodded his little chest, he rocked back and immediately batted at my finger, his brow furrowing and his lips tightening as he snarled. I was unfazed, I had him right where I wanted him, “You actually cared! It was all over your face! You, like, reached out and everything! Little cold-hearted grumpy man cares about this big dumb human!”
“I was not! I… I don’t! Well, I mean— You just frightened me, is all, I-I thought you were going to fall right on top of me!”
*****
She wasn’t letting go of this easily was she? How irritatingly predictable. Humans. They never could resist a chance to tease us if they got the opportunity, it seemed. Her gaze was inescapable, those warm, golden eyes sparkling with mischief. My face and chest felt hot… she beamed as she took in another breath, no doubt to continue this relentless game, when there was a sudden commotion outside.
The sound of a car horn blaring in long, irritating bursts and the voice of a human male shouting something incomprehensible but no doubt, angry, ricocheted through the walls.
“Shit! My car! I’m blocking someone in… hold on, I’ll be right back, okay? Dry yourself off. I’ve got something for you when I come back… even though you kinda don’t deserve it now for being a dramatic little dick a few minutes ago…” She rose as she spoke, crossing the cavern of space between the counter and the threshold in the blink of an eye.
“I was not—“ she disappeared beyond the threshold, paying my response no mind. I heard the jangle of keys being snatched up, as I shouted as loudly as I was capable, “Don’t call me a dick! It’s neither accurate nor sophisticated!” Her footsteps faded down the hall. Alone again.
I sat for a few moments in the blissfully quiet bathroom, my left leg bouncing against the counter’s edge. My better judgment told me not to lean too far over the edge. The drop was much too dangerous for me. I busied myself with wiping the beads of water from my skin. Some so big, I could pick them up in my hands and they’d keep their shape. I squeezed the moisture from my hair and had just about freed my right leg from the suffocating mess of cling wrap it was trapped in, when the tranquil quiet of this cramped, yet cavernous bathroom was broken.
I heard the slam of a car door, sounds of a man’s voice, then, a woman’s, even more argumentative and certainly louder than him. I cracked a smile. What a strange creature that human was. Next was the sound of car tires on gravel, then another honk and I swear I could hear “Fuck you, asshole!” In an enraged female voice. As the sounds of the quick-lived altercation faded from earshot, I pulled the cloth around myself, keenly aware of my nudity in this chilly bathroom. She’d plucked me up, with a sort of familiar nonchalance of picking up a toothbrush or a favorite pencil.
I found myself wondering for the very first time just what she thought of me. What kept her looking after me? I half expected any other human would have tossed me out a long time ago. Why hadn’t she given up? Maybe something really was psychologically wrong with her. It wouldn’t be a giant leap. It would certainly explain her wildly oscillating emotionality.
She’d said she had something for me, right before she left. I couldn’t imagine what that might be. I prayed to nothing in particular that it wasn’t another godforsaken polyester glittery nightmare shirt. Or some similar humiliation. I wouldn’t hesitate for a second to sink my teeth as hard as I could into the softest part of her flesh I could find if that were the case.
Still, it wasn’t possible her errands had been on my behalf, was it? Surely not. I remembered back to the first time I’d stood on this counter, stripped naked, shivering and soaked from a bath, and she’d insisted I wear that unicorn covered tie-dye embarrassment. She’d balked at my request for respectable clothes, then. Now that I thought about it, she hadn’t seemed keen to spend money on me at all. Well, that was out of the question.
So, food then? If so, the timing was right, I was half starved and in need of a round of medication. No more time to ponder, however, because the sounds of a door opening and slamming told me she’d soon stand before me to carry me to the next unknown adventure.
“… Son of a fucking bitch!” Yes, that was Natalie alright, always such… sophisticated… language. I heard the sound of something settling on a surface just outside the door and then there she was, standing…. Well, more like towering, before me. I leaned back on my elbow to see her better, as she blustered, “That guy was such a fucking asshole…” a palm came to rest a few inches from my left side.
“Well, you were committing a traffic violation, weren’t you?? I think he had some justification for responding in a negative—“
“Nope. No. Shut your face. Shut it right now. I’m trying to do something nice for you, don’t say another word or I’ll change my mind.” She hovered a finger over my chest, I scowled, but, nevertheless acquiesced to her desires. I went silent and pressed my lips into a thin line. I never took kindly to being told what to do, but I understood after the smoke detector debacle, I could stand to give her a little ground. She suddenly sighed, as if she’d been holding her breath, “Oh my god! I can’t believe that actually worked! Guilt tripping can really be an effective tool when dealing with an Alexander; noted!”
I rolled my eyes as heavily as I could while her fingers pressed gently into my back and she lifted me off the counter. She balanced my injured leg along the length of her pinky as her thumb pressed the fabric of the washcloth against my sternum. I had to give her credit, she was getting quite good at handling me gently. She hardly ever gave me whiplash from moving me too quickly or bruised my skin with too much pressure between her fingers. My heart didn’t drop to my stomach every time her hands came near. What a relief to my cardiovascular system.
I peered up, seeking some sort of hint as to what was coming next in those bright eyes. I loathed surprises. If a human told you they had a surprise for you, it was often some fresh form of humiliation or torture for their own pathetic amusement. And yet, despite the instinctual alarm bell ringing at the base of my skull, some other part of me dared to believe this was something good. Not a smart move to set yourself up for disappointment, Alexander. Yet, even as I chastised my own train of thought, a glimmer of hope remained. Maybe, just this once, I’d accrued enough karmic positivity or whatever forces of the universe were out there, to get something good coming back to me.
Gingerly, she sat me down on her dresser as she leaned back on the corner of her bed, directly across from me. To my left was some sort of plastic shopping bag, looking bulky and misshapen from the contents inside. I returned my gaze to her eyes, questioning, curious. She beamed down at me, clearly excited, “Okay, okay. Close your eyes—“
“Why? This isn’t some sort of payback for earlier is it?” I crossed my arms.
“No! Just… c’mon just close your eyes!” She groaned and rolled her own.
“I don’t know—“
“Dammit, little man! Let me have this! I’m trying to make this fun,” she leaned in, her chin resting on the silky, wood grain, her fingers closing in to sweep my hair from my face and rest lightly on my exposed, bare shoulder. I felt the heat rising in my chest again, just as it had earlier when she’d held me, “No more grumpy Alexander. Please? Let’s have a good day, okay? You deserve something nice. After all you’ve been through. Trust me. Will you trust me for five seconds?”
I swallowed. She was being genuine, I could tell. She’d gone out of her way, for me? “F-fine. Okay. Yes.” She broke into another sparkling grin, her eyes alight with the giddiness of a child. Her enthusiasm was infectious, I was suddenly abuzz with anticipation.
“Well?” She seemed rather impatient.
“Well, what??” I jumped, wondering if I’d stared at her just a bit too long. Before I had a chance to comprehend the situation further, the pad of an index finger was coming straight for my face, with all its unique swirls on the pad coming into crystal clear focus before blurring as she swiped down from my brow, along the bridge of my nose.
“Close your damn eyes, Alexander!” She giggled, exasperated.
Her touch tickled and warmed me at the same time. It was about the width of my whole head, after all, “Right! Yes! S-sorry.” I sealed my eyes shut as I listened to the rustle of plastic and crinkle of… paper? It sounded like she was unwrapping something.
My heart thrummed against my chest. I didn’t want to come across as some naive little fool, but… I’d never exactly been given presents like this before. Certainly, I’d been given clothing and some necessities but not without earning them first. I’d never been given something for nothing. There was a clatter of the mystery item settling on the dresser top. Something hard, and lightweight, just to my left.
“Ta-da! You can look now…”
When I opened my eyes, I saw two pieces of furniture before me. Closest was a cherry stained, swivel desk chair, with curved armrests and an upholstered seat made of rich, green leather, and just beyond that, a desk, stained the same, with gold pulls on the drawers. I couldn’t quite see the desktop from my downward angle on the floor. But these were unlike any furniture items I’d ever seen: these were scaled to me. I blinked rapidly, swiveling my head between these two objects and the hazel irises that were trained on me. My brow twitched and furrowed.
“Well? What do you think?” She was hungry for my response, her face flushed, eyes wide.
I couldn’t help but shrink back, “You can’t be serious. These… they can’t be for me…”
“You see any other little scholars standing at about five inches around here? Cuz I don’t…” she made ridiculous motions of peering around the room with her outstretched hand shielding her brow.
I couldn’t help cracking a smile before shaking my head, “N-Natalie…”
She wouldn’t even let me finish, before leaning down, “Here, you want a closer look? Come here, test it out for yourself. Let’s see if it gets the Little Nightmare seal of approval. Can I pick you up?”
I nodded slightly, a little dazed as her fingers wrapped around my middle and I found myself settling into the chair. My spine went board-straight as I breathlessly slid my hand across the upholstered, leather surface of the desk. It had a small embossed inlay of diamonds that gave it a beautiful oscillating pattern in the center.
In spite of myself, I felt my throat suddenly tighten as my brow furrowed deeply. I gripped the edge of the desk with all might, staring daggers into its surface until my shoulders started to tremble.
She shuffled close, her left palm cupping around where I sat, “Alexander? Hey…. Hey, what's wrong? Do you hate it? Did I do something wrong? You don’t have to like it, you can be honest with me…”
As I turned to face her, my image of those eyes clouded with worry, was obscured almost entirely with tears I couldn’t hold back, despite my best efforts, “I… I’ve never… I’ve never sat in a chair… before…”
“Oh, sweetheart…”
“It’s beautiful, Natalie. It’s absolutely beautiful. Thank you. Deeply, truly, thank you. I can really have this?” I’m embarrassed to say my lip trembled.
She smiled as her own eyes grew misty, “Again, do you see any other little men around here to compete with? Let me know if you do… maybe the next one I bring home will be sweeter!”
“I keep you line, that’s more practical than being sweet! You’ll appreciate me in the long run.” I took the much needed reprieve from the heavy moment to quickly wipe my eyes and shake off my emotions. She laughed at that, and groaned.
“You’re nothing if not true to your brand, huh? Well, listen, you can’t get all emotional about every one of these things, cuz I still have a whole bag of goodies for you. If you cry, then I’ll cry and then we will be here all night.” I ran my fingers along the polished wood of the arm rests, tracing its curvature, but what she said broke me from my trance and made me whip my gaze upwards.
“Wait.. there’s more??” I was genuinely baffled.
“Ha! Straight out of an informercial!” She stood to fetch something else from the bag as she spoke.
“An info-what?”
“How the fuck do you know how hydrogen peroxide reacts to tissue but you don’t know what an informercial is?”
I shrugged, “I can’t know everything! I’d become far too powerful for humankind to handle!”
“Little Nightmare, you’re already too much for humankind to handle, that’s why you got stuck with me. I think I must’ve sinned a lot in a past life or something. Okay, what’s next? Ahh, here we go…” she made a sort of trumpet fanfare with her lips before ripping away paper and placing another furniture item down, this time to my right. My heart skipped a beat as I took it in: a bed. It had a simple enough wooden frame and a garish pattern of red and blue flowers dotting the comforter, but it was a proper bed, nonetheless. I could let the eyesore go for now. Wheeling myself over to its edge, careful to keep the heel of my injured leg upright, I hopped from the seat of the chair to the mattress in one fell swoop, still clutching the towel around my otherwise naked body and reclined back, luxuriously.
“I bet you’re delighted. Now you can finally get some sleep in peace without some giant bitch hovering over you or touching you all the time. I know, it’s a dream come true. You’re welcome.” She propped her head up on her hand as she smiled teasingly.
“Natalie, you and I both know this will not deter you from swooping in unnecessarily close to my personal space at all times. I get no reprieve whatsoever.”
“You poor thing. You’re truly in hell, aren’t you? Is it comfortable?”
“Yes, actually. I’d assumed it’d be filled with lumps of polyester judging by the hideous covers, but it’s surprisingly firm and supportive.” Oops, I hadn’t meant to be entirely honest with her…. My mistake.
“Awww, I thought the flowers were cute… oh well. I can sew you something else you like better, later…” for a petulant human, she took my criticism surprisingly well. During the next few minutes she pulled out all sorts of other gifts: a mirror, a wardrobe, towels, my very own toothbrush, a razor, other hygiene products in impressively detailed bottles with fully printed labels that imitated their human counterparts perfectly. I felt a swelling my chest as she showed me item after item. She’d gone above and beyond. I felt utterly spoiled.
Finally, she revealed the last piece to this extraordinary puzzle was new clothes. I could’ve jumped for joy, except, of course, I’d never degrade myself to such a degree. The moment she told me, I could already feel the smart cut of tailored slacks, the comfortable embrace of a woolen waistcoat beneath a fine suit jacket, my collar buttoned all the way and adorned with a perfectly presented tie. I loved the elegance of a fine set of gentleman’s clothes. It may have been the one thing the old man and I could agree on. After all this time of wearing that humiliating smock, which barely managed to cover my manhood, I absolutely craved the comfort and security of three layers of sophisticated fashion. She’d instructed me to close my eyes once again, which I did without resistance, this time. As I sat on the edge of the bed, my right leg propped up in the desk chair, I could feel the heat and movement of her fingers as she presumably placed my new wardrobe next to me on the bedspread. I was beside myself with glee, I couldn’t wait to see what wonderful clothes were lying in wait.
Then, I opened my eyes.
Oh.
What surrounded me were clothes small enough to fit me, yes, but they weren’t at all what I was expecting. I spotted one pair of baggy slacks and and an uninspired sky blue button down but beyond that, it looked like sweatpants, t-shirts and hoodies galore.
“Okay, what’s wrong?” Her voice, up above, made me jump.
“Nothing! Nothing at all! They’re— great. Thank you.” I wore a perhaps too-eager smile.
“Oh, c’mon. You’re not getting away with that, little mister. You’re a terrible liar. What’s the problem?” Natalie had no interest in playing games, it seemed.
“It’s fine, really… it’s just…” I tried my best to sell my non-existent enthusiasm.
“It’s just?? What??”
“… I’m just used to something more… sophisticated. I’m most comfortable in a suit. I wore a suit everyday, before…”
She burst out laughing, my face burned hot, “Alexander… you’ve got one working leg at the moment and you’re just going to be sitting around the house for the foreseeable future. What in the flying fuck do you need a full on suit for?”
“You asked! Don’t complain when you get the answer you demanded! Besides, I don’t judge you for dressing in a monotonous variety of barely socially acceptable forms of pajamas everyday, don’t judge me for wanting a little elegance in my appearance! Despite how you found me, I’ve been known to maintain meticulous grooming. Unlike you, I get a sense of pride out of being put together. I just haven’t had much luck of it since you decided it would be just hilarious to dress me up like one of your dolls. I apologize if I’m looking for a bit more class than that nightmare you put me through.”
She threw her hands up, “Jesus fucking Christ, I get it. Well you’ll just have to suffer through wearing this trash until I can afford to get His Majesty what he truly deserves. Mea Fucking culpa. Can you at least languish in these rags for peasants long enough for me to go cook you dinner, Your Highness?”
My stomach dropped. I felt awful. Here she’d done all these wonderful things for me and I’d turned around and coldly insulted her. I swallowed the lump in my throat, “Natalie…”
“No no, save it. You’re right, as always. I got what I asked for.”
“Natalie, please…” I opened my arms wide, beckoning for her. She hesitated, her mouth turned down, her lips tense. I gestured again, “Give me your hand?” She threw her gaze askance and offered me her outstretched fingers. Landing on my good leg, I threw myself off the bed and embraced her pointer finger with both arms, bouncing and wobbling on my left foot as my little weight shifted her hand slightly. She hadn’t expected that, clearly, “I was a dick just now. A terrible, selfish, disgusting, unwashed, detestable, overly dramatic dick—“
A ghost of a smile played on her lips as I craned my neck upwards to catch her gaze, “Ew…” she muttered. I continued, unperturbed.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I said. I’m extraordinarily grateful for all of this. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” With that I laid my cheek on the side of her finger, flashing my eyes up at her through my lashes.
She scrunched her nose, cheeks turning pink, “Stop it! Stop being all cute when I’m mad at you! It’s not fair. You can’t cut me to the fucking quick and then bat those pretty blue eyes at me and have me right back. That’s manipulative! You’re a little master of manipulation, you know that, you little devious bastard??”
Normally, I’d take issue with being called cute, but right now it was working in my favor, “Thank you, sincerely, for everything.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever. I’m on to you. Put some clothes on and I’ll see you in a minute.” She was smiling, at least a little, now, and that made my shoulders relax. With that, she gingerly lifted me under my arms and placed me back on the edge of the bed, “Oh, wait. You’ll need some help with that leg won’t you?” My inability to bend it would make it impossible to put on underwear or pants, without assistance, “Oh relax, don’t get all huffy, I’m not going to dress you, or anything, here…” In one swift movement, she eased open a shallow center drawer in her dresser and produced a pair of tweezers, just about the length of my leg. They were a perfect grappling arm to extend my reach, “Okay, now I’m outta here. Try to behave yourself for the next 30 minutes, please? I can’t take any more Alexandering all over the place today. You’ve frayed my nerves to their absolute breaking point.” I nodded in earnest, as she stood and headed for the kitchen. I thought about thanking her again, but by the time I got the courage to speak she was already gone behind the partially closed door.
I sat in silence for a moment, looking over the bounty of things that were now mine. My chest swelled. Before I got too emotionally compromised, I turned my attention to getting dressed.
Since my right leg couldn’t bend, I pinched the right side of a pair of navy boxer briefs between the two metal clamps, and held the far end of the tweezers under my arm, this allowed me to reach and slide my ankle through the garment without risking injury. It was the perfect solution and I was deeply relieved to be able to do it myself. I deeply loathed being dressed by clumsy human fingers and it had happened far too often with the overly condescending nurses in the old man’s final years, Thank you, Natalie, for keeping my dignity in tact.
With the aide of the tweezers, I managed to adorn myself with underwear and a pair of unsophisticated charcoal grey sweatpants with only minor strain. I looked about myself, weighing my meager options and decided on a similarly gray hoodie, sighing and sliding it on. Despite the all too casual feel and fit of the fabric, it was nice to finally be covered again. Feeling another pang of guilt for even thinking along those lines, I scooted myself over to the mirror with the aide of the desk chair on wheels. Maybe I’d look better than I felt. Maybe it wasn’t so bad.
Gripping onto the beveled wooden edge at the base of the mirror, I stood, with imperfect balance as I came face to face with my own reflection.
What I saw staring back at me made my breath catch: printed across the chest of the hoodie in crimson lettering were the words Harvard Law, complete with the shield-like crest of red and gold.
My heart beat faster as tears welled in my eyes. She’d bought me an actual Harvard Law sweatshirt? I clutched a fistful of fabric. Natalie, you’re not so bad after all, are you?
With newfound determination to be less of a dramatic dick (a characterization I still wasn’t convinced was at all applicable) I awaited her return, reclining comfortably on my new bed. Perhaps shutting my eyes for just moment wouldn’t hurt either…. It’d been a rather exhausting day, for both of us, after all.
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meilleurmagasinbatterie · 7 months ago
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snootlestheangel · 1 year ago
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Cheers to the Unknown Pt.7
Monster/cryptid au ft. Just A Dude!Ghost; canon-divergent, alternate universe. More details here (parts are not a coherent story necessarily just scenarios as they come to me !subject to change!;all tagged under "cheers to the unknown") TW: Some discussion of past traumas; This is just about some of their quirks and the way they interact based on their species of monster; some angsty stuff about their backgrounds and stuff
141 Stuffs with Siren!Gaz, Lightning Nymph!Soap, Changeling!Price, and Just A Dude!Ghost
Gaz boops people with his nose. Ghost and Soap get direct nose-to-nose boops, but Price gets a slight bump either to his shoulder or the side of his nose.
Once again, Gaz is still a chompy boi, but when it's not his partners, he just chomps someone's hand or their shoulder. Like full on aggressive bite. Price keeps threatening to return him every time he gets bit. Gaz knows he won't and he abuses that knowledge.
Price is such a little trinket gift-giver. It's definitely a weird feeling for Ghost because the captain is a changeling after all, but Ghost still knows he means no harm.
Both Gaz and Price have sensitive noses, Gaz more so than Price. They refuse to be near Soap when he's meal prepping because of the strong acid smells. Ghost also refuses to be near but for different reasons.
Meal prepping for Soap looks like him pouring straight battery acid into a thermos. Ghost almost started crying the first time he saw it. He still has a hard time watching Soap make a deadly concoction and call it "lunch".
Price loves fishing for two reasons: it's an excuse to get away from everyone for a bit and it's also a good way to keep an eye on his Siren son. He sometimes keeps the bigger fish for Gaz when he knows the sergeant feels homesick.
Price and Ghost like to mess with recruits that are rude and just awful to deal with. They do this by Price making himself look like the lieutenant, and they'll spend an entire day freaking out the targeted recruits by having "Ghost" be seen in multiple places at the same time. Recruits quickly learn not to piss off Ghost because "he's everywhere. It's fucking terrifying."
Soap will shock people for the hell of it. Recruits slacking off during training? Gaz is being obnoxious? Ghost won't get up? Price is about to hand him a stack of paperwork he doesn't want to do? Zap
Ghost absolutely sticks by Laswell's side sometimes when she visits. She's the only other human he works closely with and trusts. Look, he loves Soap and Gaz, and he trusts Price something fierce, but sometimes his nonhuman partners stress him the fuck out. He just needs the presence of another human being.
Gaz will sometimes "hunt" his partners when they join him for a lake day. Ghost is typically the target, since Soap and lake water don't get along well. He'll grab them off the shore or drag them under the water for a brief second after stalking them. Ghost is used to it, and knows that participating helps Gaz let out some energy but also keeps his skills sharp.
The last time Gaz hunted Soap, it scared the nymph so bad he let out a shock but it ended up shocking Gaz, and they had to get out for a minute because Soap almost drowned.
When Gaz gets particularly sad or down, he'll hide under the little rundown dock on the base's lake. Sometimes, Soap and Ghost will lie on the dock, just one of them, both and Price, or Price and one of them. For the most part, it's typically just Price keeping an eye on his son. On the really bad days, Gaz wants just Price but the captain has to sit in the shallow part of the water next to Gaz so the siren can curl against him.
During times like that, Price wishes nothing more than to be able to make himself look like a Siren. He can't and it secretly breaks his heart.
Soap, being a relatively old being (I'm thinking a couple hundred years minimum), has a hard time adjusting to modern life on occasion. He was born during a time that monsters were being hunted for simply existing. He grew up hearing horror stories about humans and their technology that allowed for such heinous things. He never got to meet his grandfather because he was killed by humans.
Because of all that, he gets freaked out a bit when he's around a lot of humans. There's so much fear he has of them, and that's why the whole thing with Graves was really bad for him. Graves, being a human, and knowing how to kill a special nymph like Soap even though nymphs had been hiding for decades, was really upsetting.
Soap really wants for his family to meet Ghost, but he doesn't ever bring him up to them. He's afraid of what'll happen when they find out he's dating a human. They don't know about Gaz, either.
Price is also older than he looks. Not nearly as old as Soap, but he's not 37, more like 57 in actual years he's been alive. Changelings age slower than other species.
Price has actually known Gaz since he was a kid. He saved Gaz from poachers during an assignment. Gaz was 11 at the time, Price was technically 42 but looked more like 35. Unfortunately, Price and his team couldn't save the whole pod, just Gaz. Even though Gaz was eleven at the time, Sirens are emotionally reliant on their parents until they're twenty (20), so Price took it upon himself to be the little Siren's new dad. Sirens, in general, are just very reliant on others.
Nik, may or may not, have aided in raising the Siren.
Gaz still has nightmares about the incident, and will seek out Dad after the really bad ones.
Soap sometimes has a slight vibration after being fully charged. Ghost and Gaz both love when he lays on top of them after this. It's like a giant, warmer cat purring.
(any suggestions on what Nik should be?)
Taglist (want added?): @tacticaltaxonomist @cthulhusstepmom @cathnoneofyourbusiness @thorougly-melted-brains @sp4z-4tt4ck @49saltpeppershakers @bluebrryice
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windlion · 1 year ago
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Tim wasn’t afraid of death. It was just . . . stopping.
He was very quickly learning to become afraid of continuing.
The first time, he was disoriented as hell. He remembered falling. The long view across Gotham’s skyline, one last time. He thought it was fitting. It was right. He’d finished. It was done.
And then he was coughing, hauled by uncaring arms onto cold stone besides a glowing pool that should be really important when he didn’t feel like he had battery acid in his sinuses.
Tim tried desperately to put pieces together to make sense of what was happening as a shadow fell across him. Disconcertingly naked, on his side on the floor, he was not prepared to look up straight at the Demon’s Head.
Ra’s met his eyes, apparently pleased at what he saw, as a smug smile broke out across his face that Tim desperately wanted to punch. “Detective. Welcome back.”
Oh, he was fucked.
The second time that he remembered, Ra’s dragged him to the edge and threw Tim in himself. Starved, broken, frail, it wasn’t like it was difficult to pitch him into the green. This time, Tim felt the green hit open wounds with a searing burn. He struggled and flailed to try and stay at the surface, and Ra’s dispassionately reached out and held him under.
Green poured into his nose, his throat, his lungs. His everything.
When he came back to himself, Ra’s was stripping out of the green-soaked robes he’d worn with distaste. Tim pulled himself out of the pool in time to be thwacked with heavy fabric in the face. He caught the fabric with fingers that still sizzled from being forcibly straightened, the tips sensitive where nails regrew. There were no scars, no calluses left behind.
Wiped clean.
Ra’s took a fresh white shirt from a waiting ninja, completely aloof as he swept it around his shoulders. He appraised Tim, apparently neither pleased nor disappointed with what he saw. “Blades need to be tempered. You’ve been quenched. I expect better from you now, Timothy.”
Fury and despair made a home in his bones.
-
The burn of the Lazarus pit waters was becoming familiar. The acrid green had a taste, a feel, something he couldn’t describe except as loathing in liquid form. It hated. It probably hated Tim, specifically.
That’s fair because the feeling was mutual.
He floated at the surface, bouyed by its rage, and considered staying there just to piss off Ra’s.
Ra’s, who was definitely in the room, because he tsked the same way Damian did. His voice echoed off the walls, radiating smug conceit. As usual.
“Timothy, Timothy. You know I control your life. You couldn’t be so foolish as to think I don’t control your death.”
Tim opened his eyes to watch the sharp green light reflect in fractals across the carved stone ceiling. He didn’t bother looking for Ra’s, only waited until the click of boot heels on stone indicated the man had run out of patience and was returning up the stairs, confident that Tim would follow in his time.
It wasn’t like they didn’t know how he would react to the Pit by now. Supposedly it triggered the worst in people. Kicked the amygdala into overdrive, suppressed the frontal cortex, run everything on the hindbrain.
Reboot in safe mode.
Maybe he’d always been wired wrong, that he didn’t flashover into becoming a rage zombie. No, Timothy Drake didn’t burn. Everything froze, crystallized, in perfect clarity: if he couldn’t escape, then the only way out was through.
So be it.
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hum--hallelujah · 1 year ago
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you rise in your heart when you're breathing - 1.5k words, Jet and Poison hurt/comfort
Things can get foggy in the desert.
Jet Star can't remember parts of his own life. Things are a blur to him, facts and conjecture blended together until he doesn't know which way is up. He thinks it's a trauma, mental, thing more than a trauma, physical, thing. It started after the accident that took his eye. Like the chemical burns fried his brain along with one of his eyes. He tossed and turned mostly unconscious for most of a week after it happened. Sometimes he doesn't know what of that was dreams and what's real memories.
He knows he was born in the city. His parents were named Maria and Arthur. They were doctors. He has some of their books, stowed away when he ran for the Zones, still, dirtied and fingerstained. This is why Jet Star is the medic of the Four. He grew up around these things. No amount of blood can faze him, even pouring from his best friends.
He sometimes can't remember the events leading up to his departure from Battery City. He knows his parents are dead. He left after they died. He can't remember how they died. They weren't replaced, like Party and Kobra's mother was. Jet isn't ever sure if he came home to bodies on the floor or to an empty apartment. The versions are mixed up in his brain.
This is part of why Party is de facto leader of their crew. Jet cannot trust himself anymore. He has to remind himself who he is when he wakes up in the morning. Has to stare in the mirror and work hard to recall why he only has one eye, why the skin of the right side of his face is mottled and puckered and the eyelid melted shut. Sometimes he wakes up lying on his good side and panics before he remembers, thinking he's gone blind in the night.
Maybe it's a mercy that he can't remember that his parents died because of his deception, or the moment the Trans-Am's engine came to its detonating point. Maybe it's a mercy that he can't remember the pain he's accidentally caused himself and others. He never means it, but it always happens. This is why he can't trust himself with leadership.
And Party Poison is a good leader. All charisma and color, with a mind as sharp as the decadent glint in his eyes when he finds the missing piece of a plan. They've made it this far because Party has brought them here. Jet thinks that Party is beautiful. He'd once thought he was wickedly smart, able to wean himself off of City prescription pills at the small age of ten and plot his own escape at eleven. Then he met Party Poison.
Jet can't remember how they met. There's not even a piece of that left in the patchwork of his own brain. In his memory, it goes from one day he was on his own, a Zonerunner, lonesome smuggler just himself and his car, and then the next there was so much more color. Party's always been on the smaller side. A couple years younger than Jet, but he's larger than life. It's always been like this. One day Jet was alone and the next Party was there, with a little brother hissing and spitting before he learned to make space for words.
They'd never have been friends without fate. Poison isn't the kind of person to make friends anyways. Not with someone who can never stay. Sometimes Jet believes in the Phoenix Witch. He has to, when there's no other way they could have found each other.
Some days are particularly bad. Accumulation of trauma, stress, and exhaustion take their toll. Jet has to sit on his bed, staring at the floor, for several minutes just to remember why he's this tired. They'd saved those girls, though. Barely teenagers, bound and gagged in the back of a neutral's rig. Not a Zonerunner. No one who claims that title would smuggle kids for that kind of trade. The last thing Jet remembers is dropping the kids off with Gertie. They'll be safe there. He thinks Poison drove them home.
He blinks, trying to clear the blurry feeling from his eyes. ...Eye. He presses the heel of his hand into the good one, soaks in the familiar darkness. It catches him off guard sometimes. He feels unfamiliar to himself. A stranger in his own body, like the him that had two eyes has just been transplanted into the body of a him that only has one. When did he get an eyepatch? Who painted the lopsided glitter-glue star on it?
If he thought hard enough about it he could sort out the answers. The Girl. The Girl painted the star on his eyepatch. He spent an hour looking for it and receiving faux-innocent denials of knowledge from everyone else until she brought the little piece of leather out from behind her back and proudly handed it to him. But everything feels fuzzy and dull, uncertain. He sits with his head in his hands, willing himself to leave his room and join the others even though he might hesitate over names he's known for years. He can't do it. It's too blurry and tiring.
There's a knock at the door. He doesn't answer it, but it clicks open anyways. It's Poison. It's always going to be Poison.
"Ah, shit," says the well-known voice. "Bad day, huh?"
He nods, head still in his hands. "Fuck, Poison," he whispers, and feels Party step forward and crouch down in front of him. He opens his eyes. Eye. Drops his hands between his knees. Party could take them if he wanted. He probably won't. "Who am I?"
"That bad, sweetheart?" Party asks, voice surprisingly quiet for a person who's never once turned down a volume knob.
"It's just... fuzzy. Blurry. I know, but do I really?"
Poison looks up at him, and then unexpectedly reaches out, takes one of his hands. The other one raises to rest at the side of his head, halfway in his hair. "You're my Star," Poison tells him. And maybe that's all he really needed.
Jet nods his head sideways, bumping Party's hand. Poison isn't very touchy. It's always a choice. "You know, I still don't know how I met you," he murmurs.
Poison laughs, a soft, lyrical sound. Jet loves when Party is loose like this, sweet like sugar. It doesn't happen often. Most times, Party Poison is a flashbang, a firework. Wild and free, louder than the bombs they set off and brighter than the sun. This... is the sunrise, soft against Jet's skin.
"Sandstorm your fifth or sixth year outta Batt," Poison says, like it's the hundredth time he's told this story. Maybe it is. It probably is. Jet watches as Party's face turns misty with memories that Jet's missing. It's sad, in a way. Jet wishes he knew this. "You had the 'Am already, parked her to wait out the storm. I was at Tommy's, tryna make it back to the Kid before it hit but I didn't make it. I couldn't barely breathe by then. You saw me somehow," Party pauses, head tilted to look side-eyed at Jet.
"Your hair," Jet says softly, and reaches out to catch a strand of fiery red between his fingers.
Party smiles. "'S what you always said."
Jet hums. "What then?" He asks.
"By the time I'd hacked all the sand outta my lungs you were in the backseat thumping my back, helped me get my breathing back. Never planned to be friends with a smuggler," Party says, and shrugs. "Musta been fate." A wry smile that lights up the room. Jet puts all his focus on that smile. "Kobra freaked when we went back for him," Party continues. "Thought you'd nabbed me, tried fighting you off. Took him a while to warm up to you. Remember that?"
Jet nods. Kobra had been wary of him for a long time when the three of them first joined up. It wasn't until shortly before Ghoul joined their crew of three that Kobra started to consider him a friend. Jet's always considered Kobra a little brother. "Yeah, I remember," he says.
Party is quiet for a few seconds. Jet can hear them both breathing. "You okay, Jettie?"
Jet sighs. "Fuck, Party. I miss knowing all this." He doesn't know when he started forgetting. He just knows it happened. Sometimes he can claw his way back, but sometimes the more he fights it the worse it gets. He needs someone, sometimes, to lead him out of it. And that's Party, bright blazing beacon through the desert. Jet thinks he'll always find his way to Poison. Or Poison will always find him.
"Don't," Poison says, standing, still holding Jet's hand. "I got it for ya. C'mon." Jet follows, snagging his eyepatch on the way out of his room.
Kobra and Ghoul are up and clattering haphazardly around the front of the Diner as they recount and act out how a clap went down, eliciting shrill giggles from the Girl. Ghoul sees them first and stops playfighting, tilting his head in a silent question that asks, is stuff okay? Kobra freezes with his hands still formed into finger-guns, then shoots a lopsided grin and a chin-up nod their direction. "Yo, Jet."
Jet smiles back. The Girl scrambles off of the countertop where she's been seated and slams into his legs full-force with her arms wrapped around him. Party drops his hand. It's brighter out here and burns off some of the fuzziness around Jet's mind.
That's the real reason Jet isn't in charge of this operation, and never could be. It isn't an operation, it's a family. And Poison can always lead them out of the fog, into the light.
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creative-hell · 11 months ago
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         Amid the hustle and bustling of folks trying to get their fix of booze and buzzes before he’d close up shop early to usher in the new year, Diluc had to admit he was damn near at his wits end. 
         Now he loved his job at the tavern for the most part. Really. He loved hearing the clink of glasses as he worked, the sounds of a good pour and how fun the mixing process itself could be. Even if dealing with drunks and fools would prove be quite the annoying affair, time and again. Not to mention a particularly heavy rush of people clamoring for a drink never failed to drive him mad, even at the best of times.
         And if it wasn’t having to make order after order for people with dwindling coherence that really got to him, it was the loud swarm of voices ringing in his ears. Incessantly. All-consuming. Boring right into his ears and brain like a hammered nail, no matter the good humor of the tavern goers or himself. 
         Yeah, no—it was definitely that. He could never handle such raucousness all that well, after all.
         A part of him wished he hadn’t decided to give Charles the night off to be with his family. The man really helped on days like this, where the tavern would find herself chock full of chatting folks abuzz with excitement and booze alike. When Diluc was seriously starting to feel overwhelmed, lack of sleep and social battery-influenced and all. He wouldn’t dare send for him  now, of course, but at this rate…
         Diluc's eyes scrunched shut as he shook his head.
         No, he’ll hold out until closing. Just an hour or so more. He could do this. Even if he did feel himself seriously wearing thin-
         “Move over.”
         Diluc blinked then frowned, dazed gaze fixing into a glare as it settled upon Kaeya leaning against the bar. “What?”
         Kaeya gave him a bit of a lopsided grin before scoffing lightly and nodding at him.
         “You heard me,” he chided. Leaning a little closer, fingers drumming atop the counter. “Now go on—move over.”
         Diluc felt his eye twitch at that.
         An order given, eye glinting with...something—mirth? Mischief? Whatever it was, Diluc didn’t think he had the emotional capacity to try and figure it out in the moment. Not unless he wanted to fray his patience any more than it already was. Because Kaeya honestly had the worst timing to try and pull any of his usual antics right now-
         “No.” Ideally, that would be enough to get his point across. It certainly would with everyone else. But when it came to this guy—
         Kaeya sighed, feigning heavy remorse as he shrugged. “Oh well. I just didn’t want to risk hitting you.”
         —of course he’d do as he pleased anyways. 
         Diluc could scarcely get out a sharp, “Don't you dare,” before Kaeya had placed a hand on the counter and nimbly leapt over it. Utterly fumbling the landing, considering the drinks he's had earlier.
         Diluc immediately put an arm out, swiftly wrapping it around the man’s midsection and tugging him back to prevent the tipsy Captain from planting facefirst into the cabinet or any of the barrels. 
         Seriously, pulling a stunt like that right now—
         “Are you fucking insane?” Diluc hissed, grimacing as a drunken cacophony rose behind them due to Kaeya’s antics. A tinkling bell of laughter spilled from Kaeya’s lips in response as Diluc pulled him further away from the wood. “You could have gone around, if you were so set on it!”
         “Now where’s the fun in that?” Kaeya teased, patting his arm. “I knew you had me.”
         Diluc stiffened and swiftly let go, folding his arms around his chest as he threw Kaeya a withering glare.
         “Thanks for the vote in confidence,” he said flatly.
         “You're welcome,” Kaeya cheekily replied on turn.
         Diluc's hand moved to pinch the bridge of his nose. Seriously...why did he have to start acting up now- “Glad that's sorted. Now go back over there.”
         Kaeya’s grin dampened a slight, just for a moment, before he shook his head. “I’m here to help.”
         “Don’t need it,” Diluc reflexively said. Then paused, blinking as Kaeya’s words caught up with him. “Wait–what?”
         Kaeya huffed, dodging the question in turning his attention to Nimrod as he walked up. Well. Stumbled, more like, Diluc couldn't help noting, with certain distaste.
         “Well, well,” Kaeya crooned, leaning up on the counter with his ever debonair smile. “Here for your final drink, Nimrod?”
         The man huffed. “Aw, come on now, I’m not done yet!”
         Were it up to me, your last would have been two drinks ago, Diluc internally grumbled. He opened his mouth, but Kaeya swiftly beat him to the punch.
         “Now, now—this’ll be your fourth glass of dandelion wine,” Kaeya told him, tone sickly sweet like he were scolding a child. “What would Eury think if she knew?”
         Nimrod’s mouth dropped open, as he flushed. “I—well...!“
         Kaeya hummed indulgently. “Now, between us—if you want to sober up enough before you get home to the Missus, I’d recommend you just pay up the tab and head on home. Get some fresh air to clear your mind? But considering today’s auspicious nature, well…I’m sure we can let one more slide. Yeah?” 
         Nimrod blinked blearily.
         Diluc stared near as blankly as Kaeya tutted, eyes crinkling up endearingly. “Ah, apologies; rather long-winded, was it?” 
         Nimrod nodded.
         Kaeya hummed, as though mulling over a solution. Damn well already having three the moment the man walked up, Diluc reckoned- “Tell you what, head home to dear Eury now, and I’ll treat you to your next round next time we meet, yeah?”
         Nimrod dully mulled it over then his eyes widened. Shaking his head, chuckles spilled forth from his lips. “Well, I can’t say no to drinks with the Captain!”
         Kaeya beamed. “Splendid! Master Diluc, his tab if you would?” At the lack of response or reaction, Kaeya clicked his tongue and grabbed the notebook himself.
         Diluc let him, silently watching as they settled accounts, Nimrod fumbling for the Mora and leaving it on the counter before he’d stumble off with loud goodbyes.
         “Hm, maybe he needed an escort,” Kaeya mused, more to himself than anyone else as the door slammed shut. He swept the hearty tip the man left into the box below the counter, then paused and looked back over at him at last. “What? Cat got your tongue?”
         Diluc jolted, shaking his head to dash off the stunned daze. 
         “Kaeya, what are you doing?”
         The man had the nerve to offer an innocent look at that. “Well, what does it look like?” Bruce stumbled forward. Kaeya immediately flashed the man a winning smile and knelt, retrieving a bottle of dandelion wine. "Look, I know–ah, grab me some sweet berry juice and mint please–how to play barkeep too, y'know?”
         He was aware. Father had trained them both around the same time, up until his death. Still regardless of that fact—
         “But why?”
         Questioning yet, Diluc still moved to complete Kaeya’s request. 
         Kaeya hummed as he mixed the drink, swiftly and efficiently, before placing the finished cocktail on the counter. He gently pat Bruce’s flushed face before sending him off with a wink ( ugh, blink and coy little tip of his head, more like, all things considered ), and at last turning back to Diluc.
         He hesitated.
         "Why do you want to help all of a sudden?" Diluc asked again.
         Kaeya's elbows settled on the counter-top as he rested against it. Lips pressed into a fine line as he looked over at the tavern's patrons. Staying silent a moment, two, then ultimately shrugging.
         “You just seemed like you needed a hand,” he answered simply.
         Diluc blinked, eyes widening in surprise. Then brows furrowing not long after.
         That...was that it?
         He eyed the other, searching Kaeya's steady expression for any sort of ulterior motive or trick. Even as that statement had admittedly sparked certain warmth in his chest, perhaps even a bit of relief too, in spite of himself. "...really?"
         And yet almost as soon as he'd asked—perhaps a little too swiftly after the fact—a coy grin tugged at Kaeya’s lips.
         "Alright, alright, I’ll admit it," he said, raising his arms. "It’s not like I’m planning doing it for free, anyways.”
         There it was.
         Diluc must have made quite the face at that; no sooner, and Kaeya wound up bursting out in laughter. Which only burned at his patience and composure all the more-
         “Only a bottle!” Kaeya wheezed, waving his hand a little. “Only a bottle, that’s all I ask, I promse–”
         “You’re asking too damn much,” Diluc retorted, turning to greet José as he sauntered up.
         Kaeya snickered as he pushed off to grab more wine, fruits, and wolfhook juice. “Ah, But that’s not a no, Master Diluc~“
         ...alright, so it really wasn’t.
         And by all means he should say no. Should keep Kaeya out of his space and make the man mind his own business. To let Kaeya continue to nurse that Death After Noon like he had been for the past hour ( what was up with that? He never let the drink sit that long unless he was truly lost in thought or otherwise worried about something- ). And yet now…
         Kaeya's lip jutted out in a childish pout.
         Diluc eyed him, then gave a long-suffering sigh and rolled his eyes as José chuckled. “One glass of wine.” Kaeya brightened up. “And that’s final. You hear me?”
         Now, it would appear to be yet another instance of Diluc letting Kaeya do as he damn pleased in the end anyway, as he always had when they were children. As he still did a little too often nowadays, even if it meant his own patience would be worn to a thread and the festering, resentful emotions left buried in his chest would wind up dredging back up within moments of the other opening his mouth. Letting Kaeya poke and prod and taunt, snipping and shoving back in kind, until they both had enough. Until someone really bit back, and the distance between them had grown again as they went off to lick their respective wounds. Knowingly letting it happen each and every time, without even a glimmer of hope it'd turn out any different; this damned little game of give and take they’d started the moment they’d begun to speak again.
         Again. And again. And again—
         Diluc shook his head to dash the thought, holding his hand out for the bottle. “Just don’t mess me up. You hear me?”
         Kaeya scoffed and grinned, handing it over. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it.”
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         Contrary to Diluc’s concern, they had only awkwardly stumbled around each other for two orders. Two orders, before they’d fallen back into an all-too familiar pattern they hadn’t enacted in damn near half a decade.
         A comfortable pattern, where Kaeya was his staunch support, moving in such perfect tandem with him, almost as though he were only an extension of Diluc’s self, rather than his own person. No words needed, no looks nor gestures made. Simply action matching and complementing action; two cogs in a well-oiled machine. 
         Drinks flew from the bar faster than they had in the past hour, leaving ample space to relax in between each surge of patrons looking to get their fix or paying their due amounts and heading off on their way. Leaving Diluc plenty of time to mull through his thoughts on all this, now that his brain was thankfully not about three seconds away from melting out his ears.
         To think he and Kaeya would still work so well, after so long. After the stark changes each of them had gone through, their current…situation, considering.
         Honestly the fact that Kaeya was still willing to to help him after everything, to just STAY with him now, was nothing short of strange to Diluc. Not to mention the fact that he’d noticed his distress, even when he made sure to school his features to their usual stoicism, and chosen to act in helping with it, rather than poke the bear like he otherwise would nowadays.
         It was a welcome surprise, sure, but more than ever...well, Diluc couldn’t understand just what Kaeya wanted out of it.
         He’d wanted his drink, he’d said that much aloud—but things were never so simple with this new Kaeya.
         Diluc knew this well, having watched the man gather his intel and talk with others, in the tavern, and out in the city. Even the rare occasions when he'd drop by the Knights HQ to personally deliver something for Jean.
         This new Kaeya was cunning, eye almost always gleaming with interest and mirth, and sharp as a falcon looking for its prey. This new Kaeya wrapped his intentions and motive up in flowery words and innocuous gestures, and somehow wound up benefiting from them all far more than the very person he’d offered aid to in the first place. Diluc was well-aware of this, even after a mere years’ worth of observation. 
         Thus...was that the case here? Or was he just being paranoid?
         Because right now, as Kaeya would actually follow through his offer, to take his role alongside him quite seriously and never once try teasing him throughout, nor pull any sort of mischief…
         For a moment, Diluc could almost pretend nothing had happened that night. That he hadn’t done the unforgivable and swung his claymore with full intent to kill over Kaeya’s truth, instead of hearing him out like he usually would. That he hadn’t pushed Kaeya away, time and again, only deigning to watch what he could almost delude himself into thinking was hurt flickering in that lone, starry eye every time he did. That he hadn’t outright abandoned Kaeya, bleeding and breaking, while they were both still hurting over the loss of the man who loved them so dearly, who gave them everything, who was home.
         That he hadn’t hurt Kaeya enough to make him become some whole other person in his absence.
         Like this, as they were now, moving in tandem like two working halves of a whole, he could pretend the Kaeya beside him was still the boy he’d known near half his life, and once adored more than anyone else in the world. That they were still thick as thieves and the family they’d promised they’d always be.
         He could pretend nothing had changed, as he’d catch Kaeya’s face scrunched up a slight in focus, the way it always had in their youth. As Kaeya’s hands trembled ever so slightly with each flawless pour ( you hurt that hand, his mind whispered; he was always such a nervous boy; his heart murmured ). As Kaeya matched his pace, and wordlessly backed him up or took over altogether when he needed it, almost subtly preening under each quick, murmured thanks he gave him.
         But even with all this…he knew it wasn’t so.
         He could pretend all he liked, but there was no erasing the truth gnawing at him the more he watched the other work.
         Kaeya was no longer the shy, sweet little boy who always stood behind him. Who hardly ever let go of his hand or sleeve, as he whispered what he wanted in Diluc's ear for him to voice in his stead. Kaeya was no longer the reserved young man who looked damn near ready to crawl out of his own skin in a crowd, even among their fellow knights. Kaeya was no longer the trusted confidant Diluc would wake at ungodly hours to conspire and speak with, seeking comfort in the one person in all Teyvat who knew him better than he knew himself.
         No, nowadays, Kaeya was more of a flouncing peacock who seemed compelled to charm and dupe anyone and everyone he met with that silver tongue of his. Who seems to find it so damn funny, deliberately playing up on Diluc’s nerves and patience, until wisps of flames danced on his fingertips for him to back away from. Who kept his cards so close to his chest, people often made it a game to see who’d truly had his favor and who knew him best, when really, none of them did at all.
         Diluc certainly didn’t. Not anymore.
         Maybe he never did.
         Even with more than a year reunited after that fight, even after night after night in each other's company right here in the Angel’s Share, Diluc still would find that new Kaeya a stranger.
         A stranger he couldn’t stand to see, so tightly closed off even as he would pretend to be everyone’s friend. A frigid fortress of a glacier, heart walled off with the rimed ice of Dragonspine, that no one could ever hope to melt through to. Holding all the more secrets Diluc could only begin to ponder and dread.
         Just how many people nowadays were truly close to him nowadays? Jean? Lisa? Rosaria? That Albedo he liked to mouth off about, and seemed so taken by?
         Did Adelinde still recognize her precious boy as he'd once been?
         Did anybody at all?
         And Diluc…had he truly taken that Kaeya from them all? All in a fit of grief and rage? Had he burnt that boy to cinders, for those closest to them to mourn alongside Father, as Diluc ran away from it all? To escape the aftermath he’d wrought and let them all pick up the pieces without him?
         Guilty guilty guilty-
         Had he truly killed him that night, too?
         A soft, icy touch brushed against his forearm.
         Diluc wrenched back, a sharp bitterness rising in his throat.
         Kaeya swiftly pulled away too, his back hitting the counter with an audible thud as a flicker of something flashed across his features. Panic? Fear?
         In that moment, Diluc could see Kaeya—the real, sincere Kaeya he’d so treasured once before—unsure, hesitant, and so openly so—right before his very eyes. The man's shoulders hunched a slight, almost as though he were half expecting him to lash out or push him away, bite out some bitter remark for him to wither under or rise to match. 
         All that in a split second, before Kaeya schooled his features to a more calm facade.
         “Final call’s up,” Kaeya told him. Tone passive. Oddly composed, save for a slight edge to it. “I think you can take it from here?”
         Diluc blinked and looked around.
         Patrons were moving on out or finishing up their drinks across the tables. The bar itself had been wiped down and neatly reorganized the way he liked it, a parchment with inventory noted down in Kaeya’s other hand. 
         Just how much had he spaced out just then?
         “Y-yeah,” Diluc managed, taking the list. “Thanks. I’ve got this.”
         Kaeya nodded slowly. His mouth opened to speak. Pausing a moment, uncertainty flickered across his features again, before it ultimately closed and he smiled again.
         Back to being the Cavalry Captain once more.
         “I suppose I'll take my leave then,” he said, gently pushing past Diluc to get to the side door. 
         Diluc numbly watched him go back around. As Kaeya moved to reach for his Mora—wait, was he leaving already?
         He forced himself to snap out of that funk, quickly moving to pour Kaeya a final glass and setting it down before him as the pouch rested in hand.
         Kaeya blinked then quirked a brow. “That’s…what’s this for?”
         Did…did he forget?
         “I promised you a drink,” Diluc replied, brow furrowing a slight. “And, don’t—“ He stopped, a twinge of guilt prickling in his heart watching Kaeya freeze, almost dropping Mora as brief panic flashed on his face. “Don’t worry about your tab, either. As thanks.”
         Kaeya stared blankly at him, a moment, two…then the corners of his lips tugged a slight. He quickly turned his gaze to the drink immediately after, with a huffed little soft breath one could almost mistake for a laugh.
         “Well, no need to be so generous with me over a little helping hand.” Wasn’t he the one who said he wanted something out of it in return? He really did forget…or had he not actually intended to take that reward in the first place— “But I certainly won’t refuse such a gift from you, Master Diluc. Much obliged.”
         Kaeya took the glass and raised it in toast, before swiftly knocking it back.
         Diluc grimaced as Kaeya let out a punched exhale.
         That…that wasn’t how he was supposed to drink it. What, was he in such a damn hurry to leave? Or was it because he—
         “Well!” Kaeya set down the glass, and outstretched his arms as he backed to the door, raising his voice for the others, “Thank you for such a marvelous evening. I’ve had quite my share of fun tending to you all.” Ever the showman nowadays, he bowed as a wave of cheers rose among them, then straightened up to wave as he turned to head on out. “I look forward to seeing everyone again next year! Goodnight!”
         A couple patrons blinked confusedly at him. A couple more chuckled and shook their heads at his little joke.
         And Diluc?
         “Pfft…!”
         Diluc instinctively clapped a hand over his mouth to stave off the sound, but evidently Kaeya had heard him anyways.
         Clearly, seeing as the man had damn near fallen over himself trying to turn and look back at him in shock.
         All that served to do was make Diluc laugh all the harder, spilling past his hand until he needed to lean on the counter for support.
         That stupid joke...Kaeya had said that his first new year’s celebration with them. An abrupt, odd little statement he’d up and blurted out before the old grandfather clock before them had struck midnight. 
         He remembered being thoroughly confused by it, and how both Elzer and Father had promptly choked on and spat their drinks, how Adelinde had begun to damn near cry with laughter as little Kaeya flusteredly buried his face in his shoulder. 
         It had taken Diluc two explanations to understand, in his distress of thinking Kaeya was going to leave again, then in confusion over the wordplay. And it had only taken that one time for it to have become their New Year’s greeting, playfully haunting Kaeya each and every year until the eve of Diluc’s 18th birthday. 
         No. That was a lie.
         The last time Kaeya had said something like that to him had been the year after that day. When he’d written him a letter he hadn’t been able to receive until months afterward, with the familiar words neatly scrawled above the man’s initial. 
         In hindsight…it must have been less of a warm season’s greeting then. Rather…could it have been hopeful statement? An unwritten question mark punctuating his words, rather than a simple comma, in fear of rejection or worse?
         Or….was he reading too much into that all over again, having gotten so damn nostalgic after working with Kaeya just now?
         But then again…looking at a Kaeya now, he had to wonder.
         The man stared at him with open awe, warmth all but radiating from him. His eye gleaming with a certain air of joy and pride as a stunned smile tugged at his lips, like it used to whenever he was praised by Crepus or Varka. Whenever he’d gotten a compliment from Adelinde and Tunner, or whenever he….made Diluc smile.
         For the first time in years, he’d made Diluc smile.
         The thought seemed to catch up with him too, as Kaeya abruptly paled, hastily laughing the lapse off and waving. “Well! Seems I’ve left Master Diluc in a good mood! Lucky me! Perhaps I'd better take my leave while it lasts!”
         He was running away.
         It hit Diluc as he watched a Kaeya scramble for composure and attempt to make his retreat. He hadn’t even done anything wrong this time, yet somehow it looked like Kaeya was even more set on and desperate to escape than when he truly crossed a line and really pissed him off.
         Why? All because he made him laugh?
         His eyes widened. Wait...could it be-
         “H-Happy New Year, Master Diluc," Kaeya said, jolting as he accidentally bumped into a knight as he backed away. "Ah, that...heh, goodni—“
         “Come home for dinner,” Diluc blurted out. 
         Kaeya froze. Quite literally, ice crackling across the floorboards beneath him. Either because of his abrupt demand or the sudden hush and hastier retreats the other patrons took up the moment Diluc's voice rang through the tavern. Even to the point of Huffman quickly patting him of the back in sympathy ( Kaeya flinched at even that…he really did still hate physical contact- ), before him himself made a mad dash for the outside.
         Diluc felt his stomach churn.
         Shit, wait how loud had that been—?
         “What?” Kaeya managed. Moving to gingerly wrench his boots out of the ice, even as his gaze remained locked onto Diluc's. Every bit reminiscent of cornered prey, he realized.
         Of the first time he'd ever set eyes on Kaeya, fifteen years ago.
         Diluc drew a shaky breath at the thought. “Come home. For dinner.”
         A wheezed one of Kaeya's own sputtered out in a cloud of frigid vapor.
         Kaeya's eye briefly darted to the door.
         Diluc fidgeted with his glove.
         He couldn't say he didn't understand Kaeya's reaction now. All things considered, he would feel exactly the same way in his shoes. Still…still, if there was even the slightest chance his assumption was true, that Kaeya's behavior now wasn't just some act he was putting up, that that mask really had begun to crack—
         “I don’t—“ Kaeya’s mouth pressed into a fine line. Shifting in place, damn near squirming like he were being interrogated which…wasn’t what Diluc intended at all. Yet still all too achingly familiar.
         So all this time...Kaeya really didn't-
         Kaeya cleared his throat. “I-I have plans," Kaeya tried to reason. "I can’t...look, I appreciate it but—“
         He’s running. He’s running away!
         Don't let him run—!
         “Adelinde wants to see you there,” Diluc hastily interrupted. He drew breath as Kaeya's eye widened, tentatively continuing, “She—" briefly hesitating, chewing his lip. "She hardly ever gets to see you. Especially outside of work. You know how much she misses you.”
         Kaeya winced.
         Diluc wanted to as well. Both in it being a damn sore point he'd deliberately hit, but also...ugh, this was just as disconcerting for him, as it was distressing for Kaeya- “So just…just this once, come home, and let her spoil you again…please?” When Kaeya made no moves to try and leave again, Diluc cleared his throat. “Come on...surely you wouldn’t want to disappoint Adelinde, now would you?”
         It had worked once before. Bait meant to keep Kaeya close, when all else failed. Except before...before, Adelinde herself had been to one to drop it on him. To hit Kaeya with the emotional impact of it, and help ensure he'd stick around. Because he could never say no to her, from the moment he'd met her.
         And now...was Diluc even capable of managing that?
         He didn't know.
         He could only watch, a hollow pit boring into his gut, as Kaeya’s mouth opened and closed, once, twice. As he shook his head, eye carefully looking Diluc over once. Then again, like he were carefully trying to unravel him. No, dissect him, it felt a lot more like.
         The thought made Diluc almost want to crawl out of his skin.
         Still, he let Kaeya scrutinize him, get his fill of observation and letting the words, the plea, hang over him...before Kaeya at long last managed a bit of a laugh.
         “Adelinde must…miss me more than I thought for you to be so pushy about it,” he finally said, tentatively meeting his gaze.
         Diluc felt his ears warm uncomfortably as he cleared his throat.
         "Ah," he managed, crossing his arms.
         That got a bit of grin out of Kaeya. Not his typical swaggering, cocky one. But the very same he’d seen from the moment Crepus had brought him home from Sumeru.
         That smile, to his relief, he knew very well.
         “You’re...you're right though,” Kaeya conceded, rubbing the back of his neck. “It--it wouldn’t do to disappoint Adelinde. So...I suppose a quick bite with family wouldn’t hurt.” 
         “It wouldn’t,” Diluc readily agreed. 
         “We’d better be on our best behavior though,” Kaeya remarked. Tone a little more serious. “I’d...hate to upset her if we get to our usual antics, tonight of all days.”
         I’d hate it if she saw us fighting like we always have lately, he meant.
         No, wait. That wasn't quite right, was it?
         I’d hate to fight like we usually do. That was more like it.
         “I’m sure we won’t get up to any funny business,” Diluc reassured him. Perhaps a bit more confidently that he actually felt. Perhaps a promise they were inevitably bound to break. But it was just enough to make Kaeya’s squared shoulders relax a hint.
         “Okay,” Kaeya said. “Okay…” He hesitated then shook his head. “I’ll have to make a quick stop by my place first before I go.” He shifted. “Is...that alright?”
         Are you going to try and run away again?
         Diluc averted his gaze.
         No. Trust him.
         Diluc pursed his lips...then looked back to him, and nodded.
         Kaeya gave an acknowledging nod of his own, turning to the door. His hand rested on the handle a moment before he turned around. “Do you...maybe want to come with?”
         Diluc’s eyes widened.
         For Kaeya to be willing to show him, even after the sheer lengths the man went to keep that place a secret…
         So it wasn't just Diluc putting his trust on the line here.
         A gesture of good faith.
         As though all Kaeya had done this evening wasn't enough of a show for it.
         Still...Diluc took a moment to mull it over, as he glanced at the otherwise clean bar. At the unswept floors around, stray glasses on the tables across the room, knowing more were likely the same upstairs. Then to the dirtied rags sitting in the bucket, and all the windows that needed a good wipedown...
         …well. He could always clean it the next day. Perhaps he’ll even strong-arm Kaeya into it as well. For the trouble.
         With that thought in mind, Diluc gathered the Mora from the register and hastily shoved the evening's profits away into the safe below the counter. What did he care if anything happened to it all anyways?  Not like he didn’t have the chump change to spare—
         “Well—” He grabbed a bottle of dandelion wine of the shelf, setting onto the counter then nimbly hopping over it the lacquered furnishing.
         Kaeya huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes as Diluc took hold of the bottle again and strode to meet him.
         His hand grasped the frosted doorhandle in Kaeya's stead, a gentle warmth exerted to thaw the ice layered over it, as he'd let out a soft, but sure breath,
         “—I suppose I could make a home delivery. Just this once.”
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anonymousreader4d7 · 8 months ago
Text
I finally got some interest in my RMAU-Verse AU, so I'll tease it with my Potions headcanons that a friend and I came up with together. (That one person who reblogged the interest post, this is for you!)
This is kinda a long post, sooo....
Potions:
Healing: Tastes sickly sweet, like children's medicine - has an almost manufactured taste.
   Feels uncomfortably tingly and prickly, but also soothingly cold (or warm if it's a cold type injury); like Icy-Hot or other muscle pain creams.
Regen: Tastes fizzy/bubbly, like soda or sparkling water. (I feel like it'd also be sickly sweet and almost artificial tasting?)
   Feels uncomfortably tingly and prickly, but also soothingly cold; like Icy-Hot or other muscle pain creams.
Fire Res: Tastes like drinking ice water after chewing mint gum, or taking a breath of cold air after running - so cold it burns, all the way down your throat and lungs. 
   Feels sharp but cold, until you balance it out with the heat from the fire/lava; like standing in/in front of a freezer for too long.
Weakness: Deceptively sweet, with a bitter aftertaste - like pre-galloned sweet tea.
   Feels like level one burning, accompanied by dizzy, can't breathe, and about to pass out feelings, as well as, well, weakness. 
Slow Falling: Thick like hot chocolate, but tastes like orange créme. Not cold, kinda lukewarm. Doesn't taste bad, just extremely niche and settles in your stomach heavily. 
   Feels like being covered in a single sheet that's been fluffed - it slowly styles over you and then it's extremely light but it kinda tickles your skin.
Slowness: Bitter, uncomfortably thick, and numbing. A little on the warm side. 
   Feels like just waking up in the morning, and it's still too early and you don't wanna move - your limbs are too heavy, and even your brain feels slow.
Speed/Swiftness: Taste like an energy drink, complete with almost battery acid like aftertaste. Makes you feel jittery, shaky, and tingly/prickly. 
   Feels like a sugar high while a giant fan is blasting you with air. (it also gives you the urge to try to make funny fan sounds)
Invis: Like drinking the soda bubbles after pouring it - tingly, airy, and thin. 
   Feels heavy, like a weighted blanket, but cool too, like a late spring night.
Strength: Tastes like drinking a protein shake, complete with gritty feeling - tastes tan and sandy. 
   Feels like that adrenaline thing people talk about, where they can suddenly lift cars and things like that, or like strength enhancers in movies/videogames - or like Popeye chugging spinach.
Harming: Tastes hot, and burns like trying to breathe your drink - also tastes sour, kinda like bad grapes.
   Feels like level three burning, but is just pain. Sharp, dull, aching, screaming pain. It feels like you're being stabbed and corroded from the inside out at the same time. While having a migraine. Not fun. 
Water Breathing: Slimy, salty, and nasty. Like ocean or pool-left-to-sit water.
   Feels strange, like the air feels too thin, and you're almost lightheaded, but at the same time, you feel heavy and slimy, like climbing out of a pool.
Jump Boost: Tangy, sweet but not too sweet, like a burst of natural energy - sorta like Sunny D, juice, or a sports drink.
   Feels similar to that elastic-y feeling after a good run/workout, where you feel like you could almost fly/float off the ground.
Night Vision: Tastes like water at 3 am - tastes like clarity and minerals, with a slight hint of fruity aftertaste. 
   Feels like putting on glasses, then turning up the light on your phone, while also on the verge of oversensitivity, with a lingering tenseness behind your eyes.
Turtle Master: Thick like slowness, along with that bitterness and mild numbing. Also tastes slightly metallic, due to the Resistance effect. 
   Feels like slowness, but also with a level of imperviousness, like nothing can hurt you.
Poison: Tastes sour and bitter, with a horrible aftertaste like vinegar.
   Feels like level two burning, but you also feel like you're about to throw up, can't breathe, you're dizzy, and about to pass out all at the same time.
Luck (unbrewable): Tastes like Lucky Charm cereal.
   Feels like a bubble bath.
Potions intended for battle that aren't splash potions are carbonated for ease of opening during battle (as stated in this vid https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTRu5aVEN/)
Other, Non-Potion Effects:
Wither: Feels like acid was poured on you and you instantly came down with the flu at the same time.
Blindness: Feels like a sudden chill going down your spine, accompanied by an abrupt lack of spatial awareness and a wave of minor dizziness. (And also, obviously, a lack of vision...)
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