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honkytonk-hangman · 10 months ago

Text

How It's Done – Oneshot Version

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Aviator!Reader

Originally posted by unicornships

Summary: “Like me? I didn’t even think you wanted me as a squadmate, let alone–” you stop speaking, but only because Hangman cuts his eyes sharply away from you to glare out at the ocean. “Well, I do.” He says kind of indignantly, all things considered, and eyes you almost sourly. “You can just say no if you don’t–” “–No, I do!” you quickly cut him off, because at the end of it all, you’re a little too much of a hopeless romantic to let this moment pass you by.

Warnings: erm maybe just some references to sex? jake being jake? language? minions. big warning for minions xD

Notes: Originally I intended this to be a two-parter series, but I wanted to change how it went, so I rewrote the parts I didn't like and made the entire thing into a oneshot instead!!! This fic will replace the 'part one' already on my blog, but I will keep this part up, linked at the very bottom of my masterlist! thank you everyone for being so patient! Thank you @hangmanssunnies, my love my biggest support <3

Words: 11.6k!

“Well, I’ll be damned…”

You pinch your eyes shut and steel yourself at the sound of the all too familiar Texan drawl, hanging on to the hope that perhaps he isn’t talking to you. You’re out of luck though, and moments later Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin slides into the open space next to you at the bar, already posed in a casual lean as he looks you up and down appraisingly.

It makes your teeth grind.

It makes your face hot.

“If it isn’t Mirage. Would have invited you to play with us if I’d known you were here earlier…” Hangman cocks his head, and his lips tip up in an infuriatingly perfect smile. “But one can never really be sure if you’re around or not… and that's before you get in a cockpit,” he grins, but when you meet his eye at last, he looks away from you, toward Penny who seems to approach in the nick of time, saving you from needing to respond.

You blink down at your drink, and finish it quickly, unnerved by what you think might have just been a compliment of sorts from Hangman. You’d been stationed together previously, though you weren’t friends, so you’d been expecting something a little more acidic in nature. You’d heard him interact with other aviators, knew he liked to push and poke them, usually got away with it too. For some reason though, he’d never really gone there with you and frankly you’ve always just chalked it up to not being worth his time. In fact, you’re pretty sure the only times you’d ever actually spoken had been in the sky. To be completely honest, you’re more than a little surprised that he remembers you at all.

You didn’t exactly go out of your way to stand out…

You were naturally quiet, which wasn’t helped by your social anxiety, resulting in most people describing you as extremely shy. They wouldn’t be wrong, you suppose, you did tend to keep to yourself, the idea of having too many eyes on you all but unbearable to you. But if you’d thought a roomful of people singing happy birthday to you was bad, somehow being under the unwavering stare of Hangman is approximately one thousand times worse.

“Penny, my dear… I’ll have,” he stops to glance pointedly down at your now finished beer, adjusts his stance to lean even more and unwittingly makes the muscles in his bicep bulge.

“Five more on the Old Timer,” Hangman says, nodding to the man who sits on the other side of the bar.

Internally you blanch, but externally, you say nothing and give even less away, feeling a little ping of satisfaction that apparently, you know something Hangman doesn’t. Before he’d come along, you’d been carefully watching the interaction between Penny and Captain Mitchell. You’d never met the man before, but you knew how to read military insignia, which at this point, was more than you could say for Hangman, who dismisses him quickly.

You wonder if Monday morning you’ll be able to work up the nerve to tease him about it.

You’re distracted from your thoughts when Penny returns with the requested drinks. You had no real intentions of going and hanging out with Hangman and the others, but before you can excuse yourself, your empty beer is smoothly plucked from your hands, replaced quickly with a brand new one.

“Help me carry these back?” Hangman asks then, jerking his head in the vague direction of the pool table. You frown when he immediately takes off walking, not actually letting you help him at all, all four beers still slotted between his fingers. You find yourself following him anyway, as if he’d placed some kind of spell over you.

Hangman stops ahead of you at the ancient jukebox, looking back over his shoulder at you, nodding in a pleased manner when he sees you trailing behind. He waits for you, gaze never leaving your form, even as he nods to the space next to him. You awkwardly step up to the spot opposite to him, and look past the glass and at the selection inside. Hangman, once more, takes up a lean, this time against the rickety machine.

“Would you be so kind as to select track number…” he trails off as he checks the list of songs, but quickly flicks his gaze back to you, and smiles bright, tauntingly, again. “Eighty-Six?” he asks, but it's barely a question. You nod, and swallow, shifting from holding your beer with two hands to holding it with just one. You carefully tap the chunky ‘eight’ and ‘six’ keys as he watches. The machine’s little analogue screen confirms that your song is next up, and nervously, you look back up at Hangman, horrified to find he’s just been staring at your face for the past however long.

“S’been a while, Mirage.” He drawls, making you blink rapidly and look away.

“Has it?” Is all you can manage meekly in reply, surprised when he lets out a genuine sounding laugh. He hums warmly, and you practically feel it in your chest.

“And yet,” he lifts hand, two beers held expertly between his fingers, but he extends it to tap your nose, almost making you almost flinch.

“You haven’t changed at all.” Hangman grins Cheshire-like down at you, before his eyes narrow ever so slightly, and he leans in even closer while flicking his eyes up and down your form again.

“I don’t bite you know,” he tells you, his voice sounding serious, but his somberness lasts mere seconds.

“Well, not unless you ask me to first, sweetheart,” he winks and his smile grows large as your eyes grow wide and you splutter, flustered.

Your face grows hot with slight embarrassment, a wave of inner resentment at his teasing washing through you.

Hangman laughs, seemingly bored with you now, and he turns to walk back toward the pool tables. Without even looking, he beckons you to follow with one finger on his still occupied hands. For a moment your pique prevents you from doing so, certain that if you were to dip into the crowd now, he’d not care enough to seek you out again, let alone notice you were missing.

You know he didn’t mean it, you know his flirting is just to get a rise, but you also know that he’d never do it to Phoenix, or Halo, and a little bit of you hates yourself for being such a marked pushover. You make the decision now that you won’t let him do it again, if you can help it.

Your eyes travel past Hangman then, towards the pool tables where you can now see another figure has joined the other gathered aviators, and for the first time all evening, you don’t feel nervous to go join them.

You follow after Hangman, but quickly diverge from his path, cutting around a gathered group of Navy personnel to get there faster. As you approach, you take a moment to shake off any lingering anxiety, before gently laying a hand on the faded Hawaiian shirt in front of you, doing your best to keep yourself from bouncing on your heels.

Rooster half looks ready to wave off whoever is trying to get his attention, but when his shaded eyes land on you, he spins his whole body to face you, grinning widely in unguarded excitement as he gathers you up in his arms.

“Miri!” he exclaims warmly, and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of you when he briefly lifts you off the ground.

“I was just about to ask Phoenix if she’d seen you yet.” Rooster informs you.

“Seen who?” Phoenix steps around him, frowning as she quickly glances you over, though it disappears quickly.

“Yeah, that about tracks…” Rooster mutters mostly to himself.

“Nat, this is Mirage, you know her right?” Rooster introduces the two of you, and while neither of you make to shake hands, you only feel friendly energy radiate off the other woman, even as she openly looks you over now, nodding at Rooster’s words.

“Right, I have heard about you… I guess there's no real mystery behind your callsign… I didn’t even realise you were here… Sorry,” she tells you bluntly, but you appreciate her straightforwardness.

“They said ‘Wallflower’ was too long.” You joke lightly, and the other woman smiles. A moment passes between you, and you get the distinct feeling that Phoenix has become determined to never let you go unnoticed in her presence again.

You aren’t sure just yet if you appreciate that, but you are sure that you’ve just made a friend.

“Mirage?” Another voice joins then and you look to your left, smiling again when you see another familiar face.

“Bob!” you move to embrace him too, not seeing the look shared between Phoenix and Payback who watch you in surprise.

“Huh. Figures.”

Neither you or Hangman have moved since Rooster and Mav went down. The rest of Dagger had returned an hour ago, mission complete. There was no reason for either of you to be on standby.

And yet.

When the call came through that Dagger Two had been hit, both you and Hangman had separately requested to be launched, to help, but you’d been denied.

As a rule, you made yourself easy to work with, even if those around you were less compliant, and you’d experienced plenty of that, flying alongside Hangman the past few weeks. Whether it was him leaving you to get shot down in training, or refusing to fly as a team during simulations. And yet, despite his habit of ‘hanging you out to dry’ being the reason behind his callsign, deep down, you’ve never once doubted flying alongside him in the real thing like the others seemed to.

You’re glad for that lack of hesitation now, glad that it only takes a single moment of eye contact from across the tarmac for the two of you to understand one another perfectly. Glad that when you got word that somehow, Rooster was supersonic again, you already know his answer before you even ask.

“Hangman? Hondo’s cleared us for take off with the ground crew, against orders. You with me?” you ask quietly, looking over at your wingman, knowing that when you return you’ll most certainly be court marshalled, but unable to sit and do nothing any longer.

“To hell and back, Mirage,” comes his immediate reply.

You see him move in sync with you, both of your canopy’s lowering at the same time.

You ignore the panicked voices ordering you to stand down, long enough for Hondo and the others to get you on the catapult, and by then it’s too late.

In two seconds you’re propelled from zero to over a hundred and sixty, and in your ears you hear Hangman right behind you.

“Do you want to get a coffee with me?” The question makes you jump, your drink almost sloshing everywhere. The sudden voice, as well as the person it belonged to, takes you completely by surprise, but you’re thankful he doesn’t draw attention to your startling.

Up until moments ago, you’d been peacefully watching the ocean toss and turn, burying your feet in the damp sand and thinking about what you were going to do with your upcoming two weeks of post-mission leave.

Most of Dagger were a little further up the shore, a bonfire crackling away, although you weren’t the only one to have splintered off. Mav and Rooster were currently standing in the shallows talking, and you think Halo and Phoenix have moved to sit apart from the others as well. You had managed to sneak away easily enough, content to just sit on your own for a while, though your efforts appear to have been mostly in vain, if the man now plopped in the sand beside you is any indicator.

You blink at each other.

“What?!” you blurt out dumbly, not completely certain you really understood what he’d said. Hangman’s lips press into a thin line, and he looks away from you, linking his hands together around his knees, and staring out at the rolling waves.

“Coffee. Would you like to get one with me?” He repeats, sounding only a smidge impatient, but it still doesn't clear up much for you.

“I… No, I heard you the first time… I… I just don’t understand… why?”

Over the past three weeks you’ve been forced more out of your shell than you ever have before. It was torture. It was wonderful.

Part of you pats yourself on the back for being able to ask him so starightly, but another part of you slaps yourself in the face for questioning him.

Hangman turns to look at you apprehensively.

“Are you asking why coffee or why am I asking you?” He speaks slowly and carefully, his face blank and devoid of any hint he was teasing, though you think he might be anyway.

“Why… Why are you asking me?” You push, shuffling your feet in the sand, drawing his attention for a moment. He looks back at your face and frowns slightly, cocking his head.

“Because I like you? And that is usually what somebody does when they like someone. Ask them.” He answers, and this time you definitely get the impression he’s politely trying not to laugh, but for once, you don’t feel like you’re on the outside of the joke.

Still, you find yourself taken somewhat aback at his confession, admitted so easily and freely, as if it shouldn’t come as a surprise to you, which confuses you.

“Like me? I didn’t even think you wanted me as a squadmate, let alone–” you stop speaking, but only because Hangman cuts his eyes sharply away from you to glare out at the ocean.

“Well, I do.” He says kind of indignantly, all things considered, and eyes you almost sourly. “You can just say no if you don’t–”

“–No, I do!” you quickly cut him off, because at the end of it all, you’re a little too much of a hopeless romantic to let this moment pass you by. Especially when for the past three weeks you haven't been able to get rid of the odd heart skips you got whenever Hangman acknowledged your presence at all.

And besides, you weren’t blind.

Hangman was ridiculously pretty, and not anywhere near as much of an asshole as he wanted people to believe.

He looks at you blankly for a moment, processing your words, before his face breaks out in a smile. It isn’t one of his usual smirks or tauntingly pearly grins, though. It’s softer, sweeter, and you stare mesmerised as he looks away from you again quickly, and down at his linked hands, nodding.

Two days pass, and even when you’re sitting across from him in a small, niche little coffee shop you had no idea existed, you feel like you’re in a dream.

You’ve never seen Hangman out of uniform, you realise, and it’s a whole new experience you’re forced quickly to process when he stands to go get your drinks.

Dark jeans, white shirt, casual jacket. It’s a simple outfit, but goddamn does he make it look good. Nervously you have to wonder if your white and blue sundress, sneakers and bomber jacket were having the same effect on him, though you highly doubt it.

He returns quickly, attentively, placing both your coffees down, before folding himself into his chair once more. You both look at each other awkwardly before you distract yourself by taking a sip of your coffee. Hangman seems to do the same, but instead of drinking, he begins tearing into several little sugar packets, and emptying them into his coffee foam.

You huff out a tiny laugh before you can stop yourself, and his eyes quickly snap to you.

“What?” he asks defensively, but the corners of his mouth twitch.

“I just… I guess I never figured you for a sweet coffee kinda guy…”

“Oh, and why is that?” his twitching lips turn into a full smirk, but it isn’t his usual Hangman smirk. You chew on the inside of your lip, and sip your coffee once more before answering.

“I’m not sure. I guess you just don’t seem like the type of guy who…” you trail off, unsure of what exactly you’re trying to say and even more; how to say it.

“Listen, I may have rippling, glistening abdominals, but I have a sweet tooth,” he says, putting on the defensiveness now, leaning toward you and pointing at himself. You pinch your brows together and purse your lips, nodding vehemently.

“I know how to have fun,” he tells you, tipping a third sugar into his coffee.

“Of that I don’t really doubt, Hangman,” you say, but his gaze snaps back to you again, almost sharply this time.

“Jake.” he corrects you.

You pause.

Of course, you knew his first name, but you’re fairly certain you’ve never once used it. Hangman has just always been, well, Hangman. But you weren’t in a cockpit right now, he’d asked you out, this wasn’t the time and place for callsigns. He wasn’t Hangman, and you weren’t Mirage.

“Jake,” you say slowly, carefully, as if he’ll tell you any moment he’s just kidding around. But he doesn’t.

“Miri,” he replies, slow like you, but softer, and it’s silly, but it sounds so nice coming from him. You shake your head and swallow.

“Jake, if you don’t like coffee, why did you ask me out for one?” you ask him, watching as he blinks slowly at you, before his gaze slowly drops to the latte in front of him.

“If I asked you for a drink, you might’ve got the wrong idea,” he starts, speaking carefully. “If I asked you for dinner, it could be too formal, too awkward–”

“–It’s already awkward,” you point out, making him grimace slightly, so you shrug.

“Coffee just seemed like– I just wanted to–” he cuts himself off and drops both hands to the table.

“Look– I just didn’t want there to be any misunderstanding about what this was. I like you. I know you like coffee.” Jake admits all in a flurry, his voice quiet, and his eyes flickering around as he speaks.

For as long as you’ve known him, you’ve never seen Jake unable to maintain eye contact, actually it seemed to be something he took immense pride in, and it always made you slightly uncomfortable, but right now he appears completely incapable, and it's not a side of Hangman you’ve ever seen before. You realise you might be meeting Jake properly for the first time.

You decide to let him off easy, with all the newfound courage Dagger had been feeding into you the past few weeks, and you change the subject.

“You know, when you came up to me at the Hard Deck that first night, I was kinda surprised you remembered me at all,” you say slowly, sipping your coffee and eying him evenly. Jake frowns then, but it smooths out into a cool grin, and he leans back in his chair, cocking his head.

“Are you kidding? I’m always clocking possible threats.” he tells you, making you cough lightly.

“How am I a threat to you?!” you ask in disbelief.

“Oh, I could name a few,” Jake teases, nodding at you, but flicking his eyes away, almost making a show of clocking an incoming group of customers behind you.

You weren’t clueless, you knew you were a part of Dagger for a reason. You were damn good at your job, but still, Jake was Hangman, not only was he an aviator you respected, he was an aviator with very high personal standards, and for him to see you as comparable to him… well truthfully, you find yourself rather humbled.

And then flustered, at his clear unabashed flirting.

“I always thought you flirting was just you messing with me,” you admit, and he grins wider.

“Can’t it be both?” he asks, leaning forward again, and clasping his hands together. He seems to have no problem maintaining eye contact now, you note. When you cold-stare him, he simply shrugs.

“You’re cute when you get all flustered and nervous, what can I say?”

“Literally anything else.” You grumble back.

You finish your coffee and push the cup to the side, crossing your arms on the table and leaning forward like he was. Jake mimics you, pushing his own coffee away, clearly with no intention to start, let alone finish it. You aren’t as good as him with eye contact though, no matter how much you’d come out of your shell, so you take the opportunity to glance sideways out the window, only for your gaze to catch on something.

Your heart thumps loudly for a moment in your ears, and you wonder briefly if you should act on the thoughts popping around your brain right now, or if you should just stay put.

You lean forward even more, and flick your eyes back to Jake who is staring at you curiously.

“Hey, I have an idea…” you start, chewing on the inside of your lip, before standing up. You only hesitate a little before offering your hand.

“You with me?” you ask without thinking, the words the same as the ones you ask time and again to your wingmen while in flight manoeuvres. Jake stares up at you for a moment, before he too stands, your heart skipping when he takes your hand. With a tiny squeeze you almost don’t notice, Jake grins, and nods.

“Oh, hey! Stop! That’s not fair!” You elbow Jake in the side, but it’s already too late. The hand he’d shot out to block your light gun had done its job, and where you’d previously been neck in neck for score on the dual Time Crisis cabinet, Jake’s character was now cheering in victory, while your screen was asking you to insert more coins and try again.

Jake chortles and you both slot your plastic guns back into their plastic holsters at the front of the machine.

“We never agreed to no interference,” he says proudly, and you sock him in the arm only half as hard as you can.

“I didn’t think it needed to be said!” you exclaim pointedly. Jake grins down at you, and collects his tickets.

“Quit complaining, all these are gonna go towards whatever stuffed bear or whatever the hell you want anyway.” He rolls his eyes, and gestures to the shoddy ‘rewards’ counter of the arcade you’d spotted from the coffee shop.

“I want the Minion.” You state firmly after glancing at the redemption counter for three seconds, and spotting the big ugly yellow creature on the top shelf. Jake sighs in a put-upon manner and shakes his head.

“See, this is how you know I really like you. I’m willing to ignore that,” he says, and you actually think he might be serious this time. You grin up at him as he takes your elbow, and begins leading you toward the back of the room.

“What are you going to cheat me out of kicking your ass at this time?” you glance around you, goosebumps trailing up and down your arm as Jake lets his hand slide from around your elbow, down your forearm and into your hand, which he squeezes as if in warning.

“I didn’t cheat, I simply used black ops tactics,” he says, narrowing his eyes at you. You purse your lips at him and narrow your own eyes back.

“Cheat.” you say again, pronouncing each syllable deliberately.

You come to a stop then, and you look up at the old photo booth machine. Jake pulls out a fistfull of tickets, squinting his eyes at the label with instructions, before looking back over at the redemption counter. He seems to run some numbers before he looks back down at you with a grin, and waves the strings of crumpled tickets.

“My cheating means we can use the booth, and still have enough for a Kevin plush, so I don’t wanna hear no more complaining outta you,” he waggles a finger in front of your nose, and you blink up at him sheepishly.

“Jake– I don’t really want the Minion…” you say, before your voice turns suspicious. “Anyway, how do you know which one is Kevin?!” you lift an eyebrow, only for Jake to roll his eyes and push you into the curtained booth.

You orient yourself in the tiny enclosed space, looking around you as Jake takes a moment to feed several lines of win-tickets into the machine before he follows you. He’s forced to duck down real low, making the space even smaller, and you both stare for a moment at the small seat barely big enough for one person, let alone two.

“Well, either you can sit on my lap, or I can sit on yours, darlin’, but I know which one I’d prefer.” Jake intones lowly, and for the first time in an hour or so, you feel yourself get all flustered again. Honestly, you’d kind of forgotten about the explicitly romantic tone of this meeting until now, and more than that, your stomach begins to flip and flop like the first time you’d gotten in a jet when he eases past you and drops himself onto the bench before patting his thighs.

“Jake, maybe if you just move over a litt–”

“No can do, honey,” and he’s not even trying to tease you, he demonstrates the spread of his legs, and the tight fit into the booth, before looking back up at you expectantly again.

“Okay… Okay…” you say more for your own sanity than anything else, and turn, quickly perching yourself on his leg before you can really think too hard about what you're doing.

Your efforts are for naught though, because the moment you’re sat down, Jake’s hands are tugging you against him further, sitting you more comfortably on the thick expanse of his thigh, and you barely repress the noise that nearly escapes you at the feeling of his fingers digging into your hips.

“There we go, sweetheart,” he says softly, almost to himself, and moves his hands to wrap around you completely. If he notices your little noise, which by his self satisfied smirk he definitely has, he thankfully chooses not to say anything. Your face grows warm, not only at the hold he has on you but at the pet name too.

“Did you just call me ‘sweetheart’?” you ask, sounding half bewildered, half incredulous, forgetting for a moment where exactly you were and why. As you look over your shoulder at the man behind you, Jake stares back, his smirk still in place even as his eyes seem to search your face, his own expression mostly unreadable.

“Would you prefer ‘honey’?” he almost purrs, his voice distinctly amused, but you notice that he doesn’t back down, doesn’t apologise or step back.

It makes your stomach twist up in knots. It makes your heartbeat skip like a record.

You turn away from him, shake your head.

“It’s fine,” you tell him bashfully, wanting to grumble slightly when against your back you sense what you think is him puffing his chest a little. Quickly, you add: “Not at work, though…”

Jake chortles, but as you peek over your shoulder to look at him again, he’s relenting, his smirk gone and replaced with a far softer smile as he nods.

“Not at work, though.” he repeats lowly in confirmation, almost making you jump when he shifts one hand to steady you around the waist, his other reaching out to begin fiddling with the controls on the lit up screen in front of you.

“Alright, let's get this show on the road shall we?”

By the time you’re exiting the tiny cubicle, Jake’s hands still attached to your hips as he follows you out, you’re both laughing quietly to yourselves. You’re amazed to find just how much Jake can affect you, either setting you at complete ease or sending you into a tizzy, depending on what he’s said or done. Usually you wouldn’t be surprised by other people’s effects on you, you were jumpy and anxious by nature, but it was rare that somebody who put you on edge as much as Jake did, could also give you such comfort.

When he detaches his hands from your sides at last to survey the sheets of photos spat out by the booth, you marvel at how much you start to miss the contact. With all the subtlety you can muster, you inch closer to him, under the guise of getting a look at the photos as well, though really, you’re only hoping that you might prompt him into reaching out for you again.

Jake chortles and points at a set of two pictures. In one, you’re both grinning madly, pulling silly faces, and in the other, you’re wearing softer smiles, and you notice now, that Jake had pushed his face a little closer to yours. It makes heat rise in your cheeks, not just at the seeming intimacy of the photo, but truthfully, of how much you like seeing the two of you like that.

“You won’t mind if I keep these, will ya?” Jake asks, looking over at you. You simply shake your head, and he grins a little wider, carefully tearing off the two pictures before pulling out his wallet and tucking them inside, for sake keeping, you assume.

Jake lets you keep the rest, and absently, you fold them into the zipper in your purse, too distracted by the fact that he does indeed take your hand again, before quickly releasing it to instead wrap his arm over your shoulder. You can’t stop yourself from smiling a little as you blink dumbly up at him, and he grins down at you, ducking his face even closer to yours.

“Now sweetheart, I believe I was instructed to win you a minion plush.”

You try to avoid Phoenix’s hard stare, and focus on wiping down your helmet.

“You’re acting weird,” she finally announces, still managing to make you jump despite your anticipation. You then immediately proceed to do yourself exactly zero favours, proving her point by refusing to look up at her, choosing to instead hurriedly continue with your current task.

“What? No I’m not. I’m fine. You’re being weird,” you argue, wincing at your clearly abysmal attempts at behaving like a normal adult human. You start re-cleaning the pristine surface of your helmet, your nerves conjuring imperfections you logically know don’t exit.

Just before you completely lose yourself down the spiral of unhealthy compulsive behaviours, A hand, Nat’s hand, stops your own. Tugging the cloth out of your hands and taking your helmet away from you, she places it down on the workbench you stand on opposite sides of. Chewing your lip, you at last meet her eye.

“Miri, it’s okay to have a crush–”

“–I don’t have a crush!” You blurt out both far too quickly to be believable, as well as in sheer panic. Your face grows immediately hot, and you can tell Phoenix is trying not to laugh at the show you’re putting on so poorly. Her lips twitch, but her expression softens from amusement into something softer, mixed with traces of pity. Just when you’re starting to debate the pros and cons of sprinting out of the room, getting in your jet, and then flying away never to be seen again, she relents, releasing you from her eye contact and making herself busy as she tidies up bits and bobs littering the workbench.

You swallow thickly, and stay watching her, your heart rate only spiking higher as your anxiety builds once more at her sudden apparent indifference. You follow her movements without moving an inch, sharply aware that not only was she still very much focused solely on scrutinising you, but even more mortifyingly, that this conversation was far from being over.

“Nat,” you say with surprisingly more strudiness than you believed possible, pausing to swallow the dryness in your mouth. “I don’t have a crush, okay?” You wait for her to look back over at you, nothing but disbelief rolling off of her faux-casualty, giving you a bullshit shrug and a smile.

“Okay.” she says. You had hoped that would be enough, but you should have known better. You clear your throat again.

“Nat,” you say, only making yourself louder, as if that was a sign of nothing going on. She looks up at you somewhat blankly. You know you’re totally screwed already as her eyes dip to watch your finger begin quickly tapping on the bench before you with barely any acknowledgement from yourself. “There’s nothing weird going on,” you say, pleading with your voice and face and every atom of your being that she drops it.

She drops something, unfortunately it’s not the subject though, but you still feel some semblance of stress leaving your body as her fake lack of care dissolves, and she leans back to rest against the cabinet behind her. She crosses her arms and shrugs again while letting out a soft, pitying sigh, which this time doesn’t raise your non-existent heckles as much as it had when it first showed its face.

You stare at one another, at what you think is an impasse and wordless agreement to now never talk of this episode in your friendship ever again, but once again, you should have known better.

“If it’s any consolation, I think he has a crush on you too, so it's not like it’s a total waste of energy… despite all evidence to the contrary,” She says conversationally at first, before muttering out the last part under her breath.

“He doesn’t,” you state with so much certainty you almost forget for a moment that it’s not even a little bit true. Instead, crossing your arms too, you feel like a middle schooler having a much too serious fight with her friend at lunch. “We’ve just become closer, like all of the squad have. You’re just noticing it cause you want to!” you’re a little taken aback by the sound logic of your own reasoning, all points earned to your side then immediately becoming forfeit when you can’t help yourself from stupidly continuing to speak. “Why? Has he said something?!”

Your outburst of near-giddy excitement destroys all chances of you walking this back, and you find yourself with only one option left available. But your prior readiness to exit out of this failed interaction at roughly 300 kts/min becomes soberingly not so fun to fantasise about when you sheepishly remember the current charges against you, for the theft of the $70 million dollar military aircraft you’d technically stolen when you and Jake had taken a joy ride to pick up Mav and Rooster.

You're snapped back into the present as Natasha Trace regards you unreadably and slowly lifts one perfect eyebrow at you. You cover your face and hang your head, you reason with your now permanently mortified brain that if you just admitted to the thing she already believed to be true, she’d stop looking any closer, possibly finding out something actually secret.

It helps that your embarrassment for the flurry of extremely obvious questions is very real, and you groan into your palms. You hear before you see Phoenix laugh, listening to her chortle at your outing yourself, but you notice that he demeanour is warmer now, and she pushes herself up to sit on the top of the bench between you, crossing her legs.

“He’s not said a thing, but he doesn’t need to,” she tells you, seemingly glad to just be able to share her findings and observations, which you uncomfortably realise have been going on for a lot longer than you realised.

“It's what he’s not saying,” she explains, and you blink up at her in genuine curiosity.

“Huh?”

Phoenix turns her gaze upward as she thinks.

“He doesn’t make fun of you… or snipe at you, not really,” she begins, resting her head in her hand. “To be honest when we first met, I was expecting to defend you. You’re a good pilot, a great one, but Hangman isn’t exactly known for recognising that in others…”

You frown up at her, unsure of anything to say to abate her suspicions.

She’s not exactly wrong, even when the two of you were first stationed together, he’d never poked fun at you, never really called you out. To be fair, he hadn’t really acknowledged your presence at all, but these days you knew that was more to do with the fact that all this time, Hangman had liked you, had seen you were shy, and didn’t like crowds, and as you’d found out recently, often made more of a spectacle of himself to draw attention away from you.

You have to stop yourself from smiling dreamily at the thought of him.

“And I mean, he disobeyed direct orders for you, he knew what you were doing, and he went with you anyway… I’m just saying Miri, I don’t think you’d be disappointed if you were to say something–”

You quickly cut her off.

“I’m not saying anything to him!”

At last, given your already clear admittance of your supposed ‘crush’, Phoenix relents, holding up her hands and shrugging.

“Just think about it alright? It’s even sort of… cute, in a weird, Hangman-y way.”

You grumble at her, but thankfully she doesn’t bring it up again for the rest of the afternoon. Still, you leave the workshop with a sparkling helmet, cleaner than you think it ever has been, and with a pressing matter to relay to your boyfriend, most of which involves playing it much, much cooler in front of Phoenix the next time you all hang out.

You know you’ve made some personal growth when you answer the door in your matching Star Wars X-Wing PJ’s and slippers, and aren’t immediately mortified.

Jake stands there, already grinning back at you, and looking like a greek god sent to earth in his dark jeans and plain white shirt.

“Red Leader Mirage, your rescuer has arrived!” he announces, doing what you judge to be a surprising spot-on impression of Lt. Porkins from Star Wars, shooting a lazily salute down at slippers

Unfortunately, you aren’t given the chance to ask him more about his perfect Red Six however, as he’s almost immediately pushing away from where he’d been leaning against the side of your door, posing for your perusal you assume, and holds out a brown paper bag for you to take. You swipe it, and shoot him a thankful smile.

“Thank you, Jake, really…” you side-step his self-congratulatory jokes, but he doesn’t seem phased, simply shrugging, and taking a step closer to you, letting one hand rest gently on your shoulder, before he hooks it and tugs you into him.

You’d started getting all-too familiar with just how physically attentive Jake seemed to be, something you would never have guessed about him several weeks ago, but had come to terms with now. Clingy was never a word you would have used to describe him before. He hugs you briefly, then pulls back to look down at you, his brow furrowed and his expression filled with genuine concern, another thing you’d been getting more familiar with.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks, inviting himself in by walking you backwards and kicking your door closed lightly behind him. You’d come not to mind this sort of thing either, but mostly because you know if you asked him to leave again, he would, no questions asked. That was another new thing you’d been learning about Jake Seresin.

In comparison to how Hangman could be up in the sky, Jake was entirely understanding, one hundred percent supportive, and almost a little too observant when it came to your particular anxieties. It meant he often knew without you saying when to push you, and when to not, and on the occasion that you did need to say, he always respected those boundaries.

It was starting to make you nervous, how much you were growing to like him.

“Cramps are kicking my ass, but other than that, mostly fine. Thank you for these,” you try again, hoping that he really understands just how much you appreciate him coming over for you tonight. Never in your life would you have imagined feeling comfortable enough to ask Hangman to stop by the pharmacy and pick you up sanitary products, and never would you have imagined he’d make no issue of it.

“Sure,” he says, again with a shrug. “You want me to head out?” he asks then, tipping his head back at your door, even as he inches his face closer to yours, brushing his nose tip against yours. Your lips quirk, then break out into a full smile when he grins before dipping low enough to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your stomach somersaults and pulls at least ten G’s for sure as he continues to brush his lips against yours teasingly.

This hadn’t taken much getting used to at all. Jake was a good kisser, and had proved it after your second date, almost in the exact place you were now, both his hands cupping your cheeks and his lips full on yours, hungry and insistent. That had been almost four weeks ago now, but after his hands had tugged your hips flush to his, you’d quickly put the breaks on.

You were still slightly uncertain about going further with Jake so soon. The fact was, you worked together in a high impact, high stress job, and if anything should happen between you, it would be easier to keep things professional if you took it slow

Jake had, to your slight surprise, though you aren't sure exactly what you were expecting, nodded slowly and taken a step back. He’d told you that the only thing he wanted more than you, was for you to want him too. You’d had to explain that your position wasn’t because you didn’t want him, which had led to more making out, but he hadn’t pushed to go further and he’d left that night with the affirmation that however long you wanted to wait was alright by him.

“No, you can stay,” you tell him, wrapping your arms around his neck to stop him from pulling away too much as you try not to full-on pout. Jake smiles against your lips and presses into you further, moving to push you against the wall, where he crowds your space entirely and stops teasing you, capturing your lips with his at last.

You’re about to experimentally slide your hand up his shirt, a thought that had been lingering in your mind more and more these past few days, but your kiss is over too soon, and he pulls back, leaving you breathless.

“Weren’t you waiting for me, so you could do chores?” he prompts, nearly making you grumble. Instead you nod, and gently push back against him, heading towards your bedroom just down the main hall.

“You can wait in here if you like,” you suggest, feeling a little nervous about the idea, but it was something you’d been thinking about for a while now. Even if you and Jake weren’t sleeping together, that didn’t mean the two of you couldn’t sleep together, did it? It was something you’d wanted, specifically with him, but not really something you’d ever experienced before. You were ready to move out of these early stages of your relationship, eager to push yourself and your limits just a little, so you could settle into something more comfortable with Jake, something where you weren’t always a little surprised when he touched you, or called you by one of his innumerable pet names.

Jake shoves his hands in his pockets and nods, clearly thinking through what this invitation could mean as he follows you quietly.

“Um, I feel like I should say ‘excuse the mess’, but you know–” you cut yourself off and gesture around your bedroom when you both have entered. Jake snorts.

“Well that’s what being in the Navy gets you. I won’t judge if you say it anyway,” he tells you lightly, and you scoff.

“Yes you will!” you insist, and are met with a confident, familiar cheshire-grin.

“Mhm, but only a little. Have you changed your mind, honey?” he steps toward you again then, almost closing the distance in one stride, his hands still shoved in his pockets, but his gaze locked intently on you in a way you haven’t felt since that second date. Your heart beats so loudly you’re sure he must be able to hear, but he doesn’t mention it, just waits for you, crowding your space again.

“Oh, I– No… not… I didn’t… I’m sorry…”

The moment you speak Jake is stepping back, pulling his hands from his pockets to hold them up, his expression losing the intensity again.

“No need to apologise, my mistake.” Jake’s words are sincere, but he looks away from you.

You let out a little sigh.

“It’s just so soon, and with the trial–”

“–You don’t have to explain yourself, honey,” Jake pulls his hands from his pockets at last and places them at your waist, drawing you in. You fall quiet as he lowers his face to yours, though he teases you again by not kissing you, simply looking you over, and then smirking when you pout. “You want it when you want it, and that’s when I want it, okay?”

He makes you nod, before he at last lowers his lips to meet yours and kisses you, slow and sweet. You finally get the chance to test the waters a little, easing your hand carefully underneath the back of his shirt, making you giggle against his mouth when he jumps slightly at the feel of your skin on his. Jake doesn’t say or do anything about it though, thankfully just letting you explore a little as he tips your head back further to deepen your kiss, and you brush your fingers up his spine.

After a short while of this, he must feel the urge to tease you again, because with little to no hesitation at all, unlike you, he slips his hands beneath your shirt, his warm palms gripping onto the bare skin just above your PJ shorts, almost making you moan. You’re glad you’re able to hold back the sound, mostly, but your own surprise doesn’t go unnoticed by the blond currently kissing you.

He only continues doing so for a short minute longer, before he’s eventually pulling back, lips pink and kiss swollen. You can’t help but frown at the parting. He squeezes your waist, and nudges your nose with his own.

“What do you want to do, honey?”

You groan at the apparent lack of making out in your future, not because you don’t think he’d agree, but mostly because you’re not quite ready to ask him for more, though a part of you senses he’s not willing to let you off the hook for those chores you’d told him about earlier.

“I need to fold this laundry,” you point past him, to your walk-in wardrobe and the basket that lies within. Jake looks over at it and lifts an eyebrow, which you choose to ignore. He nods then, and takes a step away from you, making you frown even more when his hands fall from your body.

“I’ll help,” he says, making your eyes widen, and you quickly step around him to block his path, where he is clearly about to make for your basket.

“No! Um… It’s okay, It’ll be easier if I just do it…” you trail off, wondering if you sound insane and neurotic, but Jake simply raises his hands again and nods.

“Well, what do you want me to do?” he prods, and you realise, he’s come inside thinking you want him to help with your chores.

“I was thinking… I was thinking it might just be nice for you to just… be here?” You cringe, and narrowly avoid making a face at yourself. Jake blinks at you as if he doesn’t understand.

“You want me to… sit around while you do laundry?” he asks, tone confused, but equally unimpressed. You nod. Jake shifts, then clicks his tongue. “I was not raised to let somebody work while I sit and watch, especially not my girl. My mother would tan my hide.”

You’re a little surprised by the seriousness on his face, despite the humorous inflection in his voice. You suck in a breath, mulling over how to explain to him what you had been thinking when he came inside. Jake’s eyes flicker over you for a moment before he shifts again, crossing his arms and lifting his chin at you.

“Alright sweetheart, just say what you gotta say, I can hear those cogs turning from here…”

“I… I like that you want to help me, I think that’s really sweet…”

“But…?” Jake prompts.

“I find this kinda thing hard, and I was hoping we could just try and do something… domestic…? Together?” your face goes hot at your admission, and when Jake doesn’t immediately respond you wonder if using the word ‘domestic’ was too much, too soon.

“What is ‘this kind of thing’? I get the other part honey,” again, his voice is playful, but you see the seriousness behind his eyes and it lends you even more comfort. How is he so good at this? It’s almost like he’d read your teenage diary entry all about your perfect guy… it's the sort of attention, care, and behaviour that you’ve never actually gotten from a guy you were seeing before, so you aren’t really sure how to compose yourself.

“This kind of thing,” you gesture between you and him, before clearing your throat. “I don't know what to call it– us, but–”

“–a relationship.” Jake cuts in firmly, and you pause, heart thumping. You hadn't actually had this discussion yet, but you guess you’re having it now.

“Right. I mean, I’ve been in relationships before, but they’ve never really worked out and I feel like I never get to the point with boyfriends where I feel fully comfortable, so I–” you clamp your mouth shut, both at the use of ‘boyfriend’, and at the fact you were rambling, and you’re pretty sure it's too early to start telling him about how all your prior relationships failed.

“Right. So, let me get this straight; you were going to come back in here and put your laundry away, regardless of me being here?” Jake holds up a hand as he repeats back the information.

“Yeah…”

“And you just want me to keep you company?”

You nod, and clear your throat.

“Yeah.”

Jake stares at you, a level of understanding crossing his face, before his eyes flick to your laundry behind you, then back to your face.

“... And you’re sure I can’t help you?” His resolve sounds weak, and you think he’s already made up his mind to do as you asked, but his upbringing requires him to triple check. You smile, and this time step toward him, gingerly resting your hand on his arm, which he immediately raises, and flips, sliding it so now you’re holding his hand.

Again, you can’t fathom how he got so good at this sort of thing. Your knees go wobbly.

“I have a bunch of lacy unmentionables in there, so…” you try to lighten things, but it's not a lie. Jake picks up what you’re putting down, and gives your hand a squeeze. He tips his chin at you and lifts an eyebrow.

“Now why’d you have to go and say that honey? You sure you’re certain I can’t help?” his hands slip from yours to rest at your hips again, completely bypassing your top this time and your heart stutters.

You bite your lip, and nod your head, trying not to laugh him off fully, because while that may be your instinctual nervous reaction, you didn’t want to discourage him entirely. You liked that Jake acted as if you were a pretty girl, like you were desirable, and not like the awkward dork you actually were. You didn't want him to stop doing that.

His expression turns a little softer, and he leans down, moving slowly as to give you time to process, and he presses his lips to your cheek, lingering for just a moment before he taps your sides with his fingers, then steps away.

You’re still catching your breath when he looks back at you, pointing at what looks like one corner of your bed.

“Can I?”

You nod, and gesture at the whole mattress.

“Make yourself comfortable!”

–

You can feel the pounding music of the club in your whole body. The lights flashing and dancing in different colourways in time with the music give everything around you an ever changing aura, and maybe it’s all the drinks you’ve had tonight, but in front of you, Natasha seems to glow.

Her hands grasp your forearm firmly and you giggle, uncharacteristically carefree as you almost slip again.

“Alright! Okay, let's get you seated!” she says. She’s had a few too, but not nearly as many as you, and you’re glad for it now as she steers you toward the bar and grabs a paper cup to fill with water from the nearby water station toward the end. You find yourself drinking it without prompting, but miss the taste of the fruity cocktails you’d been downing all night. “I’ll call us a cab,” she says, beginning to pull out her phone, but you hastily stop her, placing a hand on her arm and shaking your head rapidly, making the colours spin even more.

“No! My boyfriend said he’d pick us up!” you insist, ignoring the way her eyebrows shoot up, then stitch together.

“You boyfriend?” she asks, but you miss the real question behind her words, instead you simply nod, and begin to fumble around in your own purse until you find your phone. Nat watches you expectantly as you open your messages, quickly tapping ‘call' on the top icon, and pressing the phone to one ear, and your finger to the other.

It rings less than once before it connects.

“Heeyy!” you sigh in relief down the line, happy to even just hear his voice after all night going without. “Yeah, no, everything’s alright, you just said to call you when we were done!” you say in reply to his amused questioning. You look up at Nat briefly, and if you were more sober, you might’ve been able to tell that she was leaning in slightly to try and hear the voice on the other end, but you aren’t, so you don’t.

“Okay, I’ll meet you out front!” you tell him excitedly, before adding on; “Is it okay if we give Nat a ride home too?” there's a short reply, and at last you’re smiling wide and nodding, even though he can’t see you. “Okay, we’ll see you soooon!”

You hang up and stare back up at Natasha, who's giving you a funny look that you ignore. “He said he’ll be here in ten, he’s been at the sports bar in town waiting!” you tell her dreamily, like she might understand what it means to you that Jake would choose to remain only a short distance away in case you needed anything, in the knowledge that you didn’t always enjoy nights out like this.

Nat simply nods and after making you drink one more glass of water, you begin making your way through the crowds and out of the club.

The air outside is warm, but refreshing and you take in as much of it as you can, not realising how stuffy the air inside the club had been until now. It was getting late, and bars and restaurants around the club are lit up and busy, the streets all around full of people either on their way to their destination, or lingering as they talk.

It doesn’t take long for you to spot Jake’s car and he pulls up close to the curb, allowing you to beeline for the passengers side door, not realising that Natasha follows with more confusion and trepidation. Jake jumps out of the car to greet you, rounding it to quickly steady your wobbly walk with a hand on your hip, and with the other, he pulls open the car door and helps you inside, leaning in to help you buckle in, grinning even as he murmurs quietly.

“You had a good night, sweetheart?” he asks, clicking your seatbelt into place for you, making you giggle at him. You lean forward for a kiss, but he dodges you, somewhat more aware than you are of your present company, and instead rests his hand so he can squeeze your knee. Your good mood isn’t spoiled and you barely notice the dodged kiss, so you simply nod your assent to his question vehemently.

“I had a lot to drink!” you tell him, before bursting out into giggles again, the soft, sweet smile Jake gives you going unnoticed as he squeezes your leg again.

“Yes you did,” he says with clear, fond amusement, and at last moves back so he can shut your door.

Unlike you, on the other hand, Natasha may as well be sober as a judge, and she eyes Jake somewhat distrustfully as she steps closer, lifting her chin up at him as she talks.

“What’re you doing here?” she asks accusingly, making Jake cock his head at her, only half as annoyingly as he can. He gestures back at you in the front seat of his car.

“Miri called, sounded pretty hammered,” he tells her as if that explained it. Natasha narrows her eyes and crosses her arms.

“Yeah, but she said she was calling her boyfriend, what’re you doing here?” She dares him to reply with anything but the truth, however luckily for Jake, unlike most men caught in her crossfire, he’s able to brush her off with an infuriating grin.

“I guess she dialled the wrong number, do you want a lift home or not?”

At his ultimatum (however hollow it really is, he wouldn’t leave her on her own in the middle of the night), Natasha frowns darker at him, but accepts the door he opens, waiting for her to get settled before he closes it behind her and returns to the driver's side.

When Jake checks his rearview he notes in amusement that Nat has situated herself in the middle seat, giving herself a perfect view of the two of you in the front. You don’t, nor do you seem to have any weariness in the bloodhound you’ve just set upon the both of you, but if he’s honest, Jake had known from day one that the second Natasha Trace suspected anything, your little secret was over.

He drives back as normally as he can, but it's strange to him now to have you sitting right there in his passenger's seat, and not have his hand in yours, or on your thigh. It’s strange to him to be in this space where the two of you are usually so open with your affection, and have to suppress it. Jake does not like it.

The car ride home is quiet, you seem content to look out the window, the tiredness hitting you now, but every so often he and Nat make small talk about whatever football scores interested them in the past week or two, and before too long, he’s pulling up outside her home.

Looking over at you to find that you’re slumped over asleep on his window, Jake follows Natasha out of the car with a simple offer of making sure she gets in alright. The congeniality doesn’t last very long, and once they’re standing on her porch she turns to him with a frown.

“You don’t really think I’m that stupid, do you?” she asks, for once not sounding angry or scolding, but seemingly subdued, maybe even a little upset. Jake sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Looking back to his car to make sure you’re still alright, he levels his squadmate with a serious expression.

“No, I do not,” he tells her sincerely. “But it’s Miri’s choice to not want to be public yet, all I’m asking is that you respect that,” he goes on after a moment. He doesn’t really believe she would say anything, but he feels the need to get her agreement, if only for your peace of mind in the morning.

Nat hums to herself and briefly looks away to fish out her keys. Once she has them in hand, she looks up at him again, a little grin on her face this time.

“How long?” she asks. Jake rolls his eyes and can’t resist the urge to mess with her just a little.

“Few years,” he states matter of factly, waiting for her eyes to pop wide before he lets out a victorious laugh and shakes his head. “A month or two,” he admits truthfully, accepting the hard sock in the arm as Nat scoffs at him and moves to unlock her front door.

“Something, something, I’ll kick your ass if you hurt her,” she grumbles as she steps inside, immediately kicking off her shoes. Jake straightens up and gives her a mock salute.

“Yes Ma’am,” he says, chortling to himself as he receives a middle finger for his efforts and the door is closed and locked again.

Jake feels a little lighter on his walk back to his car, and when he climbs in, he leans over to carefully adjust your crooked neck and make sure your belt is still strapped properly. You wake a little, confused at first, and blink up at him in happy wonderment.

“Hey!” you mumble, like it's the first time you’ve seen him tonight. Jake chuckles and leans closer to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Let’s get you home baby.”

–

You awake the next morning with nowhere near the headache you’re expecting, but with an array of distinct memories that cause a pit to open up in your stomach. The pit then begins to growl as you register the warm, homey smell of food, and with little effort, you force yourself up and into the kitchen, where you immediately attach yourself to Jake’s bare back.

His skin is warm and feels so comfy against your cheek, and the soft little laugh he gives makes your belly flop around. He lets you stay like that for a few moments more, moving slowly but smoothly so you can move with him, and at last when whatever he’s doing with his hands is finished, he reaches around for you and rests his hands where he can.

“Did I really call you last night? While with Nat?” you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping you’d just imagined it all, but another soft chuckle lets you know you hadn’t.

“Never thought you’d be the one to let our little secret slip first. I underestimated you baby.”

You groan into his back, and try to hide your face, but before you can complain or dodge him, Jake has turned himself around, letting you instead smoosh your face in between his gloriously golden pecs, and you think things may not be so bad.

He wraps his arms around you properly, and for a moment you just stay like that. You wonder if you can convince him to come around shirtless more often, the warmth radiating off his skin feeling heavenly, not to mention he looked almost as delicious as the food he’d made. You wonder if he’d already worked out this morning, or if you can join him after breakfast.

One of Jake’s hands moves away from your back and cups the back of your head tenderly, making you mewl slightly, and you look up at him to give the attention you know he’s asking for. Jake stares down at you with a soft little grin, and readjusts himself slightly, so he’s able to drop his lips to meet yours briefly.

One kiss becomes two kisses, becoming three kisses and after that any semblance of chastity is given up on and he kisses you full and sweet, deliberately slow like he’s teasing you to ask for more, but for now you’re simply content to wash away all of last nights worries like this.

Coming up for air, Jake barely breaks apart from you, his lips still brushing yours when he speaks.

“I asked Nat not to say anything, she respects you enough to do that I think,” he says, dropping a few more soft kisses to your mouth when you crane your neck up for more. He goes no further this time, though, and leans back from you to gauge your reaction after several moments, and you force yourself to open your eyes and pout.

“It’s not that I think she’ll tell anyone…” you say to him, scrunching up your features as you recall your lack of playing it cool the first time she had brought Jake up to you. The memory makes you grumble to yourself, and you once more attempt to hide your face in his chest. Jake laughs, and makes you jump when he pokes your side.

“What is it?” he asks, like he already knows. You tell him, voice muffled in his skin, but clear enough for the details of your embarrassing inability to throw the scent off to be heard. Jake’s body shakes with more laughter as you relay the information, but instead of trying to make you stop hiding away, he simply cups the back of your head again, and holds it nearer, allowing you to wither your embarrassment away in the safety of him.

“I think we both know that the minute that woman suspected anything, it was game over,” he tells you once you’re done, still holding you close, but you feel his lips press to the top of your head sweetly, and you do your best to snuggle yourself closer.

After the bulk of your mortification has eased away, Jake makes you detach from him, but only so the two of you can eat your breakfast while it’s still hot.

“You know I don’t want to keep it quiet, like, forever, right?” you ask out of nowhere, your memories of last night replaying over in your head while you ate. Jake looks up at you and cocks his head.

“I’m happy to do whatever you’d like to do, for as long as you’d like to do it,” he says matter of factly, but despite the sweetness of his words, you can’t help but frown at him.

“No you’re not, and we both know it,” you push back, grateful for his always tender manner of going at your pace, but you’d likely never have been with him in the first place if he hadn’t thrown you out of your comfort zone that first time.

The only difference is, now you are with Jake, and you understood these things about yourself, and how they weren’t always as scary as your mind might make them seem. Jake frowns back at you, clearly ready to protest.

“I know you pretty well too, you know,” you cut him off. “I know you like PDA, and that you wish you were able to be more open when we’re out with people. I know you like to show off, and part of that includes me,” you tell him adamantly, because you know you’re right.

Jake huffs out a sigh and leans back in his chair, looking at you dead on, you know him well enough to know he’s a little annoyed at you calling him out, but you aren’t doing it to annoy him or just for the sake of starting an argument.

“Okay, so what if I do? That doesn’t change the fact that until you want something, I’m not gonna go for it,” he says, still frowning at you like he doesn’t understand what the point of talking this through is even about.

You change tack and, with your heart beat thumping a little wildly, get up from your seat and move toward him. Even in his annoyance, Jake makes room for you, pushes out his chair and wraps his arms around your waist when you seat yourself on his thigh, your own arms linking around his neck.

“Well maybe I’m giving you permission to go for it,” you say softly, quietly, because the idea still does make you incredibly nervous. But you like Jake, no scratch that, you think you’re in love with Jake, and you think he’s in love with you too, and something about that feeling for once in your life makes you want the same things he does too, including the PDA. You want him to sling his arm around your neck, you want to be able to kiss his cheek or hold his hand or whatever it is you two want to do, not just in the comfort of your own homes, but out at the Hard Deck with your friends, too.

Jake blinks up at you, like at first your words don’t even register, but then he’s tightening his hold around your waist, and grinning wolfishly up at you, all cocky and infuriating if you didn’t find it utterly charming. If you didn’t completely adore him, even this part.

“Permission granted, Lieutenant?” he asks mischievously, and you can’t stop yourself from giggling, like you’re drunk all over again.

“Permission granted, Lieutenant!”

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luna-the-moth · 5 months ago

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Anon: Hello! Any chance of more on Idia x reader who does audio porn? I enjoy this posts a lot and your writing is amazing! 😳🫣

Tumblr ate this ask, but luckily I saved it in my google docs beforehand <3 Regardless, we perservere <3 thank you for the kind words Nonnie, I hope you enjoy!

Here’s a link to the prev audio porn creator! Reader x idia blurb if you haven't checked it out!

18+, gn! reader who does audio porn/asmr

I’d definitely say he’s fond of the roleplay audios the most! He appreciates the effort that’s put into acting out specific characters, and even more so if a person’s able to capture the character’s complexity and nuance!

Is also picky about sound effects, so he’s a good soundboard! (Mind, sending him entire audios may not be the most productive way of checking the realism and quality of your sound bites…Sending him individual audio clips of specific acts/sounds will be more efficient!)

Would definitely enjoy your mukbang-esque videos where you record yourself eating a meal and chatting, though! Would never admit it because he doesn’t want to expose himself as a loser who listens to his partner eat when they aren’t sharing a meal but…he is <3

He’ll protest that your soothing bf/gf/partner asmrs aren’t special to him once you’re in a relationship (he has the real deal right next to him, after all!), but if you’re away for a long time and can’t call/text, he does secretly listen to one of your softer, intimate works.

Also he may or may not have done a scan to see if anyone else on campus listens to you— keeping an eye on possible competitors is necessary!! Who knows what those freaks would do if they recognized you! QWQ

That being said, he helps a lot with your digital anonymity (letting you know if you accidentally reveal information in your audio or that there’s background noise that can be used to doxx you) and will modify your voice upon request! You’ll be as safe as can be while still being able to pursue your passions <3

Idia will also make sure to listen to your ramblefaps (audios where the speaker is masturbating) before you guys have sex for the first time…he has to be prepared!! Otherwise his poor heart wouldn’t be able to take it , , , poor thing gets sooo flustered though, especially if he can hear you using a toy. (He totally doesn’t wish it was him inside you when you use a dildo.)

On that note! I think he’d be really smug if you had an audio where you’re being pleasured by him + you cut out his audio post-editing , , , he doesn’t want his voice out there but you posting a session where he’s the one giving you an orgasm , ,, ORZ he gets soooo worked up about it once he overcomes the initial stage of embarrassment.

#idia shroud x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst smut #idia shroud #twisted wonderland #twst #moth.flutters #musings.by.lamplight #nsfvv

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loveanddeepspice · 2 months ago

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𝕋𝕖𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕖

✞ synopsis: you've come back to the small town you grew up in for a visit. though your relationship with the catholic church and faith in general have been strained since you were younger, you find yourself drawn back to the church... or more specifically... the new priest... you aren't ready to share your secret sin with him... but you may not be able to help yourself.

✞ pairing: sylus x curvy fem!reader

✞ rating: 18+ (minors do not engage)

✞ cw: religion (catholicism), priest, lapsed faith, adultery, priest kink, suicidal mention, dead parent, sex, masturbation, drugs (marijuana), mentions of other drug use, drinking (more will be added when/if they arise)

✞ disclaimer: this fiction explores a romantic relationship between a lapsed Catholic and an unconventional priest. it is not designed to be inflammatory or critical. catholic authors were asked to participate in the process. we hope you enjoy it, but we know that these topics can be sensitive, so please skip this fiction if it will in any way offend you.

✞ chapter: 6 / ?

✞ co-authors: redbriony, confuseddoughnut (they do not have tumblr)

✞ ao3 link: here

✞ chapter synopsis: "the only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it." - oscar wilde

Please comment on this post if you want to be added to the tag list for updates!

Despite what happened, you would have done anything to face Father Sylus again.

He was the type of person who radiated energy from within, dedication unlike anyone you had ever met - which could be a good or a bad thing. The thoughts became an obsession, all that seemed to fill your brain. The recollection of his touch made you sweat. It was the last thing you thought about before drifting off to sleep, the first thing you thought about when you woke, and the next few days stretched. One thing was sure: you longed to see him again, if only for the courage to apologize. But did you even have to apologize? He was the one who had kissed you first, right? It was so unbelievably confusing. You’d talk yourself through circles; for once, no amount of sleeping seemed to help. You weren’t even given the option to sleep it all off anyway or mellow properly in your self-pity. Upon learning of your ‘arrest’ from Talia, your father forced you out of the house that Sunday to go to church with him. “What’s going on with you, Y/N?” Dad raised his eyebrows and frowned as he gripped the steering wheel, and you could tell he was trying hard not to get angry or frustrated. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, hon. You came back, and you’re acting weird. Can you just tell me what’s wrong?” Shaking your head, you shrugged, trying your hardest to maintain eye contact on the door handle, ignoring your dad’s question and wishing he’d just leave you alone. “You went from being happy to totally distraught since you moved out. What am I supposed to think here, huh?” ‘Maybe everything went to total fucking shit,’ was what you wanted to say, and tried not to roll your eyes. Dad tried so hard to not act like the authoritarian or pushy father, especially after your mother had died. He was never like that. And it was because of that you figured it was time to be at least a little truthful. “I quit my job. I don’t know what I’m going to do from here, but -” you said, “I just…needed some time to think things through.” Your dad parked the car and turned to offer you a subtle smile. You were convincing enough, obviously. “Okay, fine. Work in the store until you figure it out. It’ll be like old times.” One hand gripped the steering wheel as he looked at you, almost seeming to peer into your brain as his eyes flicked ever so slightly. “So, uh, is this about your mom? I didn’t know you were still upset about that. I should’ve tried to talk to you more.” You bit down your reply, feeling a bitter taste in the back of your throat, and willing it away. “No, it isn’t. Just forget about it.” A long sigh filled the small space as your father pressed his lips together. “Christ, I can’t be mad at you right now. I’ve always let you do what you want.” This was strange, a particular ache settling inside and spreading to your limbs like an infection. Maybe it wouldn’t stop now that it had started. And the first instinct was to get away and run. Run and run and just get away. “Hon, Y/N,” Your Dad’s voice was pleading, and you nearly missed it. “We can go talk to -” “No!” You blurted, immediately regretting it, mortified at just the thought. How did you speak so fast? “No, it’s fine. Let’s just go inside. We’re gonna be late.”

You didn’t feel any better inside the church, but you weren’t expecting much to begin with. All you could do was suck it up and seat yourself beside your dad. It wasn’t crowded, but there were a few unfamiliar faces, so maybe not everyone would notice your fucked up mood.

Everything felt surreal. You were sitting there in church with the sun streaming through the stained glass windows, and your gaze landed on the one depicting the Virgin Mary.

The word ethereal came to mind.

Everything seemed like it would evaporate into thin air. Like if you moved too quickly, you’d wake up from one of those dreams that just turned out to be inside of another dream.

And when a hush fell over the congregation, you had no choice but to look forward. No matter how your brain fizzes or your fingers tingle. You were forced to look at that handsome face in front of the church and feel the emotion well inside you. Something that felt different than embarrassment or frustration.

Even from this distance, Father Sylus exudes that particular aura, daring to fill the whole church with its strength. You are once again reminded of how inescapable his presence is—not through belief or goodness, but something, someone who felt unearthly, even celestial, as absurd as it felt.

Ethereal. Once again, with that pretty word. How could you even begin to explain it? It was so easy to feel some sort of bitterness, perhaps even selfishness. Who could blame you? Everything always seemed too simple when you looked at it from a distance.

“Good morning,” He began, his voice taking on that strangely powerful, lilting cadence. He paused, hands clasping, and his posture was different. Shoulders broad, spine straight, chin lifted slightly. “I want to take a moment before we begin to discuss why we’re here.”

You were drawn to his words, which had formed an invisible link to you. Maybe if you closed your eyes like you did at night, you could picture that night in the car. It felt foolish because you were certain your own thoughts were desperate. How stupid did it make you seem, trying to replay the sensation? A stupid crush. That is all you wanted it to amount to, even if looking into his fiery gaze had made you feel like you were melting.

“We’re here, in the house of the Lord. Why is this?”

If a month’s insistence on chasing after a flame could be compared to anything -

“Free will.” His tone picked up. “Through our actions, we make conscious decisions. As far as humankind is concerned, free will also makes us human.”

Your breathing stilled. Something terrible seized your gut, a cramping feeling causing you to grit your teeth.

“This is a sanctified place,” he continued, voice rich and filled with energy. “Within these walls, you should experience peace. Not conflict or anger. All are free here because it is with our actions that we build ourselves.”

How the hell did he manage this? The words continued spilling from his mouth, something pulling you further. And after a pause, his gaze filtered over the room again - and landed on you.

Time was beginning to stand still, and you swore your face began to heat up. But, thankfully, the look didn’t linger on you, moving on as he cleared his throat.

Well, fuck.

There was only a tiny shift in expression, and perhaps you were the only one to notice how his pause seemed more lengthy than those before it.

"We - uh.” Father Sylus made a show of glancing down at the notes before him and shuffling a few pages. “Sorry.” He cleared his throat again, a little louder this time. “What I mean to say is, with free will, we struggle against our urges and temptations. Sin beckons - uh,” another loud cough. He looked nervous. Vulnerable. In more ways than one.

Father Sylus hastily pushed aside the pages, shoulders lifting in a deep breath before looking again at the people gathered. He straightened a little, and his powerful tone returned as he folded his hands neatly. “So, how do we resist? It can be hard to…admit one’s faults.” He let out a little huff of air, glancing down again. Then, he stepped away from the podium, stepping along the carpeted dais, hands clasped behind his back and thumbs tapping against each other.

The congregation started shifting. A glance here and there, unable to guess what he would say next. Probably wondering why their priest was acting so…off. If you weren’t glued to your seat in, well, any number of the emotions you were feeling now - you would have high-tailed it out of there already. But instead, you were frozen in place, feeling like an outsider, feeling the shift in the air more than the others around you.

“Take those feelings and multiply them by ten.” He stated, looking towards the back of the church at nothing in particular. It was as if he was somewhere only his mind knew.

“Opportunity is often just an invitation to sin, yes. Free will is a man’s greatest power but also his biggest weakness. With that power comes responsibility. Satan doesn’t come dressed in a red cape and pointy horns in the middle of the night.”

Oh God.

There was a tense pause and stillness, and you wonder how you managed to sit here and listen. Those crimson eyes trailed around the room, but for another second, a brief and terrifying second, they burned into you.

“Satan comes as everything you’ve ever wished for.” He laughed, bitter and slightly hoarse. Then his eyes snapped forward again, unabashed.

He coughed, cleared his throat again, and gestured with a finger above his head. “We all - well, we all think we can overcome any challenge. Big or small. Big and small.” Father Sylus let out a shaky exhale. “Um, the point is...The point is that the devil is ready to collect when you can’t. So, the point is that - uh,” His tone shifted to something smaller that made your insides tremble agonizingly. A breathless, tight sort of anxiousness that stole through your lungs and caused your heart rate to increase. It was impossible to deny that despite the words coming out of his mouth, you actually wanted to hear him continue. “Um, sometimes I think the hardest thing is that we are human, and we are weak.”

Before he could even continue, his voice cracked. “I’m sorry.” He swallowed, grimacing, an anguish that you recognized. “Excuse me.” He looked like he might break, the wavering tension almost stifling the room, his expression almost tormented.

“I’m sorry. Excuse me.” And with that, he disappeared into the back, leaving everyone shocked.

Everyone except for you.

“And that’s why I’m never going to church again.” You rolled your eyes as you leaned against one of the shelves in your dad’s store, looking over at Rafayel, who was leaning against the counter, making it his personal mission to get every last drop out of an iced coffee. “You should have seen the look on his face. What a fuck up.”

Rafayel wrinkled his nose, looked around the otherwise empty store, and then glanced at his phone. “Yikes. Poor guy.” He sighed and tapped his foot on the floor. “Talia came home and said he had a migraine - but it’s even more hilarious that a near-public breakdown was because of you.”

“My God, you are awful.” You frowned and stepped forward to lightly punch his arm, reaching out and catching his elbow with a grimace as he pretended to almost fall over. “That’s a horrible thing to say! You were the one who was practically encouraging me!”

“I would never,” Rafayel huffed, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. “Anyway, it’s been almost a week now. You’re gonna have to suck it up and face him sooner or later.” With a firm nod, he shook off your hold and dusted his hand on the faded denim of his jeans, turning his attention back to his phone and shaking the ice in the cup he held.

“How would I do that?” You asked.

As if oblivious, Rafayel arched a brow and smiled tightly, peering at you over the edge of his phone. His tone was less-than-reassuring, sounding almost pitying. “No fucking idea.”

You opened your mouth to argue but thought better of it as the shop door opened, just in time for the chilly afternoon to bring in your dad and Xavier. You took a deep breath at the sound of the bell and forced yourself to calm down.

As if on cue, Rafayel pushed himself away from the counter and looked in your direction. “Well, Y/N.” He said, tossing a wink in your direction that made you want to reach out and knock the silly grin off his face. “Good luck.” With that, he turned and walked out of the store with a shake of his head.

Your dad mumbled something under his breath before tossing a wave a little too late and heading into the back of the small building.

Unease had settled in your stomach at your friend's departure. You felt as if you had more to say, ask, or get a general idea of as you stared at the shop's door. You ran a hand over your tired face and sighed.

“Hi,” Xavier gave you a careful, controlled smile as you turned toward his voice. “Need help with anything?”

You tried your best not to fidget or bite your lip. “No, but it’s nice of you to offer.” You shrugged and glanced away briefly. “Why? Got nothing else to do?”

“Uh, I work here?” He blinked as he stepped forward. You could take in his softening facial features now that he was closer. His smile didn’t quite fade as he looked around the quiet shop. “Anyway - I um. I tried to call you last night? About dinner?”

Tilting your head in confusion, you froze. Then, you processed the sentence.

Dinner. Shit.

“Oh! My phone went missing. I’m sure it’ll turn up soon or something. Wasn’t the nicest phone anyways,” you brushed some hair behind your ear. “I still can’t figure out how it disappeared!” You forced a laugh at your lie and shifted uncomfortably.

You’d completely forgotten about agreeing to go out with him. How fucking stupid were you? So caught up in the idea of -

“Well, uh, I didn’t plan much. So it’s okay, we can just do something another night. Right?” Xavier suggested, and you couldn’t tell if he had let it go so quickly or was suspicious about your behavior.

Either way, you smiled, rationalizing with yourself for what felt like the millionth time that spending time with him would be a good thing. Any way to keep your mind distracted. Clearly, he still wanted to go out with you, and you certainly wouldn’t say no. After all, who could blame you for latching on anyone who showed the slightest interest?

This would be a step in the right direction, right? Things would get better. They had to. No matter how weird it felt for you to think so.

“That’s fine. Sorry, my head’s all over the place.”

The worst part of it all was the sudden weight in your stomach, the ache in your chest that was becoming all too tiring. Something pushed you in the complete opposite direction of the young man in front of you, towards what you really wanted, and had no explanation for why you did.

“Y/N?” Xavier spoke again and stepped closer, watching your expression with careful scrutiny, his hand reaching out to touch yours, giving you a new feeling of unease. “Hey, um, - you alright?”

Your heart wrenched a little at the worry, and you wondered exactly how pathetic you appeared. “I think so. Can you take over? I gotta step out for a while.”

It grew colder as you walked along the sidewalk, sticking your hands inside your jacket pockets. Clouds gathered in the distance, inching their way towards the suburb. The air smelled fresher, as if it might snow lightly sometime at night. A breeze swept over the street, stirring pieces of your hair from its confines, and you briefly thought you should have remembered your scarf.

Then, you came to a stop in front of the church.

You looked down at your outfit, the jeans and the oversized blue sweater you had found in your mom's closet, when you couldn’t be bothered to do your own laundry. Perhaps she would give you strength, or at least enough willpower from wherever she was to give you the courage to turn right the fuck around and go back home. She was always straightforward in that way, even without the drinking. If only you had taken after her in that aspect.

For a moment, you almost turned to leave, giving yourself the opportunity to simply walk away and go home. However, after a few seconds of mental debate, you stepped along the worn walkway and up the steps, slipping your hand out of your pocket to place it on the worn wooden door.

Somewhere in your mind was a glimmer of hope, the possibility of resolve.

Now that you had gathered whatever courage you had left, you took one last, bracing breath before pushing the door open. A jolt of energy speared up your arms, a buzzing sensation against your fingertips. Once you were inside, everything felt eerily silent. Almost too silent. But as the familiar warmth enveloped you, your body relaxed slightly as you shrugged off your jacket.

The last light from the day was casting through the windows, and the interior was a muted, golden glow and soft orange. It felt warm in more ways than one. Despite the hushed nature of the building, energy thrummed within you. The atmosphere was inviting, but for some reason, you couldn’t quite muster the ability to step forward any further, feet stuck to the floor beneath you. It was ironic, yet in a way, expected; you felt like crying or throwing something, but maybe punching Father Sylus would give you the most satisfaction.

The chapel seemed alien to you as you made your way further inside.

Loneliness was all-consuming, a fear ever present and threatening in the back of your mind. You wondered why it hurt so much. And, you considered whether you have ever experienced a real connection in your life. You zeroed in on the cross beyond the rows of pews as if you could use it for answers. It glinted a little in the evening light that filtered through the stained glass. Your eyes felt dry as they fixed upon the illuminated wood, searching, listening, walking towards the front of the church like a mouse.

“You think this is funny, don’t you?” You asked your question out loud. The silence of the building taunted you in return, and something constricted within your chest. The rush of it all was consuming, filling your every thought with hope and expectation. A breath sucked in, and you shook your head, blinking. Everything felt off, and you had no idea what your body was supposed to do with itself. “This is so fucked. You know, this is all…just so messed up,” you choked out the whisper and, with a small gasp, swallowed. The emotions swelled. Heavy and pounding and suddenly overwhelming.

Who gave a shit? Nothing would change.

But, maybe -

Would God be willing? Could He lift the spell put on you that would continue to grow?

“Mom is dead, and she’s not coming back.” The words spilled and dropped like shattered glass. “And, uh, it’s just like, that’s fucked up. Isn’t it? Please, it’s - well, I wish I knew, God damn it. Motherfucker!” You swore louder than you should have, not recognizing your own voice. A feeling that had no name gripped your heart. This was it. You were giving up. “Totally fucked up. And you go and make me do stupid shit? What kind of test is that?”

Only silence answered. You wondered how you should feel. As angry as you were, it felt strange to voice it. Finally, saying the words brought unusual comfort, and it was too easy to admit everything now. “Yeah, yeah. You should really apologize, God. Lord. Jesus. Whatever.”

“I’m sorry.” The voice that spoke back did not belong to you. Echoing off the walls and the stained glass, it sent a jolt up your spine, causing you to spin in its direction. Leaning against a doorframe was Father Sylus, looking down at the floor, that shameful expression resurfacing on his face. You witnessed the repentant facade as he lifted his head and looked at you.

It felt like a flood rushed through you, coursing, washing away the anger, seeping into every cell, and filling you with something new. Warm and soft, somehow breaking you apart as it passed. Something indecipherable but true.

Something almost wonderful and exhilarating.

He looked like something you could draw. That raw, exposed sort of aura.

That same warmth enveloped your heart, the comfort expanding across your chest. There was something profound and affectionate within his gaze and the sense that you had underestimated what was truly meant by the phrase ‘care and concern.’

It could have been a few seconds. Or minutes passed as you stood rooted to the spot. The beating of your heart seemed to echo in your ears. Blood pulsed through your veins, the silence around you growing louder.

“For what?” You were almost afraid to speak up.

“For whatever you’re feeling,” Father Sylus stated plainly. Then he straightened, and his look shifted, and for a split second, he stepped forward, only to pause with his fingers twitching at his sides. Maybe there was confusion flickering in his gaze. Or longing. But he still didn’t move from where he stood, as if unable to break the tension he had with himself. After a time, he studied your face and added, “For everything and for nothing.”

After a moment of thought, you shook your head. “That’s vague.”

“It’s all I’ve got.” Father Sylus ran a hand behind his neck, almost nervously, eyes shifting and gaze searching. Another pause lingered between you, and you blinked a few times. He opened and closed his mouth, finally settling on placing both his hands on his hips, inclining his head to look at the stained glass windows. “That…and guilt.”

His admission seemed weighted, and his voice was heavy. You watched him take a step forward, then hesitate.

In that second, there was a great leap in understanding. You understood that he would not look directly at you because it would break this sacred reverence between you and whatever else was going on within his mind.

Maybe it’d always been a game, and perhaps you knew deep down that this would be his next move. The inevitable, silent communication. Slowly, you folded your shaky arms over your chest. The look that flashed in his eyes made you shudder. With a new boldness, you swallowed and whispered: “Why are you telling me this?”

Exhaling hard, you weren’t sure whether to scream, laugh, or cry as you awaited your answer.

He swallowed, his dark gaze teeming like a fire in the low light, the red burning. His lip curled. “Because I feel like you can understand it. Why I feel this way.”

A sick urge, sharp and needy, had you crossing the space between you, the air shaking and trembling as he finally took another stride forward. Your eyes traced over his face. Deep and pained and beautiful. His chest heaved. A strange, bittersweet satisfaction filled you.

“I - I can’t stop thinking about -” you broke off, words quivering as you spoke. “Us. The other night - it keeps going through my head, what I said, and -” your voice was breaking again, the achy, miserable desperation settling in.

You could tell he was holding his breath, hands now clenched into fists, gaze searching and uncertain. “I didn’t mean to deceive you.” The words hung heavy as he stepped closer, finally closing the distance between you, tilting your chin, and forcing you to look at him. The grip held you firmly, though his eyes remained gentle and pleading. “I want nothing more than to pray - beg for your forgiveness. Try and restore whatever trust I’ve betrayed - but in all truth, God, I -”

Another thick swallow, and he paused, the corner of his mouth twisting. He squeezed your chin lightly as if in search of some answer. Then his hand fell to his side, his head turning to look at the cross behind the altar. Something burned beneath your ribs.

“What is it?” You whispered, trembling with the effort of not spilling all your unresolved thoughts. “Tell me - tell me something, anything, or - or -” You stopped yourself, feeling a little pathetic at not being able to formulate the proper words.

“My path was never exactly clear, but,” Father Sylus swallowed thickly, sounding more scared than ever. “Someone I loved when I was younger - she -” A long sigh escaped his lips. “We were each other's firsts and…We loved each other very much.” He exhaled again. His face creased into sadness, reminiscent and haunting. A sharp pain, almost. One that lingered from emotions held within. The truth was there, plain as day, naked, heartbroken, and fragile. “She died when she was eighteen.”

Pain squeezed at you mercilessly, tight and almost bone-crunching. You stepped closer, your brain slowly putting it all together, realization hitting. Then your bottom lip trembles as you reach out, taking hold of his hand and squeezing it. “I’m sorry,” you manage to say after a moment, “that must have been -” Another pause, trying to settle your lungs into a steadier breathing pattern.

He squeezed your hand, looking at you, catching your gaze and holding it, unwavering. “I went to her funeral in a church far bigger than this one with twice the congregation. And later that day, when they put her down into the ground, I listened to the Monsignor pray over her soul.” He looked away again, this time up at the beams in the ceiling. “And I really listened to what he was saying for the first time. And I don’t know why, I just suddenly felt…” He trailed off, and you moved your hand further up his arm, willing him to continue by pressing your fingertips gently into his forearm.

He smiled at the ceiling, faint and apologetic. “I felt at peace. Everything clicked into place. As stupid as that sounds. It was like something I couldn’t understand but needed. And, well,” he shrugged.

“At last, it finally made sense to me,” he muttered. “The power God holds over us was always right there.” Then he turned to face you, his fingers reaching and resting on your cheek, tracing the soft skin of your jaw. “And now, I stand before you - finding these feelings again, the first true connection I’ve felt in years. I don’t mean to doubt anything…but I don’t know how to...”

He let his voice drift off before tucking your hair behind your ear, movements tender. You wondered what he could see in your expression.

“How did she die?” You asked quietly as if the question would destroy something in the air, but you needed to ask it anyway.

The corners of his mouth trembled as he stroked his thumb along your jawline, offering you a small, grim smile. “She was mad at something, drank herself sick. Decided a joy ride on a motorcycle might be a good idea,” he turned his gaze to the ceiling again, and it finally hit you that he kept doing that as a trick to keep himself from crying. “She lost control and swerved, hit a wall head-on. Died on impact. Stupid girl with the dumbest ideas. She used to talk about seeing if the world curved or if the stars continued forever. She was funny and smart - but not as smart as she should have been. Her blood alcohol level came back three times the legal limit.”

“That’s horrible,” you breathed. The puzzle pieces were assembled together. A crash. Drunk. How similar it was to your mother. Only your mother hadn’t met death head-on. It was still one of those things that made you wonder; which would have been worse? The chance was so similar yet unique. Still, as Father Sylus spoke about it, you swore you felt the faint sorrow he must still carry within himself.

“Sylus, I’m -”

“Don’t be sorry.” He said, finally regaining a certain poise about his face, somehow managing to look warm even at this moment, smiling very softly.

At his words, you realized you were breathing harder than before, and it didn’t go unnoticed as he scanned your face. You didn’t know what was wrong with you; you felt an emotion you could no longer explain. He had experienced loss, same as you, just not in the same way.

Father Sylus let out a dry snort. “It’s not a happy memory, but something good comes from pain. Distrust to trust. Fear to courage. Hatred to love. To an extent, those things make you understand and appreciate everything.”

You nodded, unable to stop yourself from wrapping your arms around his middle, convincing yourself you would forget how to breathe if you didn’t. You embraced him because it felt like the right thing to do, the smoothness of his shirt beneath your fingertips. His hand ran up along your side until it rested on your neck's base, soft, gentle, and warm. He exhaled a little before resting his chin on the top of your head.

As he held you, you realized that this was what you had wanted. This was what you had really been aching for. Everything shifted again, changing, rushing with a tangle of nerves and dizziness. Nothing else would settle more easily than being cradled right there, where you could breathe him in.

“Hey, do you -” He leaned back, both hands cupping your face, tilting it to meet his own. It took him a moment to formulate his question. “I shouldn’t ask, but - do you still want me?”

Of course you did. More than anything.

But even then, you should have stepped away. Should have walked out without another word, back to whatever fucking regular life you thought you had. But with whatever strength you had left, you pushed everything aside and quietly said, “Yes.”

He had pressed you against the wooden door of the office, pinning you in place after dragging you in there and shutting the door. Not that you really had any intention of going anywhere. Not with his lips moving against yours, the desperation sending sparks along your skin. His tongue darted out, parting your lips and moving into your mouth. Hungry and forceful and tasting every inch.

“You know,” he said as he pulled back, taking a second to breathe, “It’s so hard to be good when you’re so…” He trailed off, leaving you to only imagine what he would say.

No, you had no words or any logical thoughts, really. Perhaps this was the closest thing to heaven you’d ever feel, surely. And Father Sylus ran his hands down your sides, slow and possessive, grabbing fistfuls of your sweater and bunching it up. Heat began spreading throughout your body as his fingertips crept underneath and stoked along the sensitive skin.

“Will you let me in?” He mumbled, his lips now on the underside of your jaw as his palms spanned across your stomach as if trying to map out every inch of exposed skin. The blood pounded in your veins, pulsing in rhythm with your heartbeat.

“If this is what it feels like to be tempted,” you mused, gasping as he sucked on the skin above your collarbone, gripping the front of his shirt. “I have already failed. Miserably.”

Letting out a hot breath that sounded an awful lot like laughter, he pulled away, a smile stretching across his lips, amused. “I suppose you really have,” he chuckled. His hands gripped your hips and spun you around so you were against his desk. Then he ducked down to press more kisses along your throat. The shivers returned as he lifted your sweater over your head, tossing it aside with another wicked grin. And for the first time, you noticed the hint of a dimple in the corner of his mouth.

After a moment, Father Sylus fumbled with the buttons of his shirt until that, too, was discarded, skin suddenly bare. The sight made you stop, observing for a moment. For the first time, your fingers reached out and touched the skin of his chest, moving over the muscles and across his stomach. You marveled at the way he flinched slightly, inhaling sharply at your touch.

Everything felt…hot, heavy, and inappropriate in the best way.

And before you knew it, his hands were running up along the bare skin of your stomach, a barely-there brush that made your breath hitch. Then his hands were behind your back, unhooking your bra as his lips found yours again, rough and fervent. As it was removed, there was not a second of delay before his hands cupped both of your breasts, squeezing and drawing his thumbs over your nipples.

“You’re so beautiful,” his hands shifted, fingers resting along the waistband of your jeans.

It was like every little action was becoming overwhelming, sending pulsing waves through every nerve, vein, and muscle. When he popped the button, slid the zipper, and slowly eased the jeans down, the pulsing only got stronger—dizzying with its intensity. It was challenging to focus on anything else that would make more sense. Your mind was clouded.

“Wait,” you breathed, sitting on the desk, pulling the clip from your hair and tossing it to the floor, the waves tumbling out. His hands never left you, still roaming over every little centimeter of you they could get access to, “I -”

It didn’t need to be said, whatever it was. Because a grin broke out across his lips. A bright, glorious grin as Father Sylus pressed another harsh kiss to your lips like he could swallow the words down.

Stepping closer, he maneuvered you onto your back, your legs dangling over the edge of the desk. The smooth, cool wood pressed against the length of your spine and shoulders as you heard something that sounded like a book fall somewhere behind you. He gripped the soft flesh of your thighs, blunt nails digging in. Breath hitching, your heart thumped at the roughness and passion of his movements. Something animalistic and unrestrained lay just beneath the surface, waiting, ready.

“Let me,” he urged quietly, fingers winding over the lace underwear, dragging them down the length of your legs. Fingers stroked up again, curling and caressing your inner thighs, one hand finally reaching the place where you were already desperate, soaking wet, and aching to be touched. Without hesitation, a digit dipped, sliding along your slick folds and slipping in easily. The motion made you bite down on your tongue as his other hand ran along the underside of your knee, urging your leg up and apart.

You felt the pad of his thumb gliding over the little bundle of nerves, back and forth in a way that made you groan.

“You are,” his voice was low, almost a growl, and his teasing continued. “So gorgeous, laying there. I can’t stop looking at you.” One finger became two. Slick and hot as they moved into you, each stroke moving deeper. All too suddenly, his lips were crashing down against yours, kissing you hard and desperately as if set on devouring you whole.

The only thing keeping you stable was grabbing his shoulder and his upper arm. The sudden rise of pressure rushed around you. His thumb slipped, pressing down a bit more on your clit, drawing another gasp from you, a sound that filled the room. Then he pulled his hand away, an invisible weight settling when the digits were gone, leaving you empty and still aching for more.

“I’m on birth control,” you managed, eyes blinking rapidly as you processed that this, in fact, was actually about to happen. The fullness beneath your belly was spooling tighter, coiling.

It was only a few seconds; that’s all it took for him to undo his belt buckle, his length freed. Straining, leaking, begging to be inside you. The size of it makes you swallow a certain anxious lump in your throat.

“Please.” The word spilled out before you could stop it. The coil inside you grew more and more tense and throbbing. You needed it now; the consequences didn’t matter, nor did the guilt or shame. “Please.”

His breathing hitched as if a long controlled flame within had been ignited. One of his hands rested on your hip, the other hooking under your opposite knee, parting you further and steadying himself. The tip of his cock pressed at your center. You didn’t have any time to prepare because, at that very moment, he was pushing further, sliding into you inch by inch.

The heat and fullness and pleasure coursed, trembling through you.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed, face buried in the crook of your neck, but you could hear the grin in his tone, the soft desperation in his voice. “You, you -” but his breath choked off as he pushed all the way inside, the moan that ripped through him cracked and hoarse.

It took you a moment to feel him fully, gasping for air and dazed beyond what was really necessary. Holding tight, you wrapped an arm around his neck, exhaling hard. The room became a haze around the two of you, the entire moment almost suspended, paused, put on hold.

When he moved his hips again, you whimpered as he hit somewhere deep, and your pleasure spiked.

“Fuck,” he whispered against your skin, raising himself just enough to look at you, eyes glinting with a certain fervor. A little dark, a little feral, something wildly possessive and hungry and yearning all at once. “Oh, fuck,” he hissed, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes. Another jolt shot through you. Another strong thrust, this one harder than the last, followed by another. And another. It took a minute for him to set a rhythm, but when he did - you were sure the air was being pushed from your lungs each time.

You couldn’t do anything but hang on. His mouth met yours in a sloppy, forceful kiss. Gasping and shuddering, you tried not to shout at the next jolt. The constant grind fills you every time. Deeper and sharper. The steady, thrumming pleasure. Intense and focused, as if Father Sylus were on a mission. Searching for something. Finding each sweet spot with whatever desperate greed drove him. Like now that he’d had the taste of something forbidden, he wanted the best of it - anything you could offer.

He shifted slightly, and before you knew it, he hooked your leg over his shoulder, the deep angle making you arch from the desk.

One hand tangled in his hair, the other on his shoulder, gripping hard and pulling him closer, trying to keep him buried deep inside of you. The friction built, the pace driving forward and drawing the pressure up, leaving you malleable and aching for release. But somehow, wanting it to last as long as possible.

When the pleasure spooled tighter and tighter, every breath came short, coming fast and shorter. Until finally with one long, breathy whimper of an exhale, release washed over you, crashing like a wave. His name slipped out of your mouth, some deep, instinctual part of your brain keeping you present enough to utter it, still pulsing around him, shaking.

And that brought him there, a little broken sound falling from his lips. Hips snapping, driving just the slightest bit further until he groaned into the side of your neck, spilling inside you. After a moment, the stillness settled between the two of you, heavy and thick. There was no actual sound other than ragged breathing.

You stared at the ceiling, trembling and a bit boneless, wholly dumbfounded and satisfied. Then, with every ounce of energy left, you sat up, placing a hand on his chest.

“You okay?”

A rush flooded through you at his question, and you struggled to make sense - to be logical and reasonable.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, “I just. I…” What was the right wording? You trailed off, eyes focused somewhere beyond him. Struggling, you kept your eyes away. How could you possibly articulate the warmth that had settled over you, the lift in your confusion that had been gnawing at you until this moment? How could you explain feelings that make no real sense?

“I feel at peace.” A near whisper because your words made it tangible, whatever it was. And really, you did feel lighter. It was as if something weighing on your shoulders had lifted in a way that wasn’t just because of the act that had been performed.

“Really?” A sharp inhale of his breath.

You nodded, reaching out to hold his face and running your thumbs along his cheekbones. Father Sylus slowly returned the nod, a tentative but wonderful, hopeful smile quirking up his lips—something bright and genuine, untouched by bitterness or remorse.

Serenity had sunken in with a comforting familiarity. Settling inside, like the feeling of returning home. Like the truth had opened its door. Acceptance and serenity. Understanding. Clarity, even. The knowledge you weren’t as broken or faulty as you thought.

A moment passed, no words spoken. Then, still breathless and maybe a bit disbelieving, Father Sylus reached out and traced a cross on your brow with his thumb.

“Did you just -” You blinked, a bit indignant as you huffed. “Did you just…bless me?”

He looked a bit sheepish, hands resting on your shoulders, thumbs rubbing gentle circles along your collarbone. “Guess I did.” With a slight chuckle, he leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on your forehead.

Tag list: @celestialforce, @readerxyourbabe, @babyx91

#lds #l&ds #love and deepspace #lds sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you #lds rafayel #lds xavier #lds fanfic

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fixing-bad-posts · 10 months ago

Note

Heya, I really really hope this doesn't come off as particularly rude, but I was wondering, why would bisexual women be considered lesbians sometimes and I think you also brought up transgender men and genderqueer ppl? For bisexual women, I just am kinda confused, they can be in lesbian relationships and lesbian spaces, but just describing them as lesbians seems kinda confusing because lesbian denotes specifically sapphic attraction at least from where I've always heard it, so wouldn't it be kinda confusing. And for the genderqueer folks or trans folks, wouldn't that just bring their genders closer to feminine and at least from what I've heard from some pple I know, they don't like non binary being seen as more womanly (I've heard it being described as woman-lite before annoying) and instead seen as a more inbetween which it sometimes isn't, because of bigotry and other things since nbs can be both fem or masc or androgynous, but wouldn't non woman lesbians kinda push it to be seen as kinda more fem or that person as more fem? I don't know and frankly I'm just kinda confused. I'm really really sorry that this probably comes off as super rude and I hope you forgive me. I frankly just want to learn a little more and have been reading up but wanted to know what you thought. And I just realized how long this was, so so sorry

hello anon! these days, i usually don’t answer asks like these because i’ve already done so several times, but you seem very well-meaning and confused, so i’ll do my best to help. first of all, please check my faq for resources and links about mspec labels and bi lesbians.

second of all—generally—here is my advice for when you encounter a queer label that confuses you:

1) literally just ignore it until you...

2) meet someone in your life who uses that label, at which point you might (respectfully) ask them what using that label means to them specifically, and why it’s important. i’ve done this in real life. the script is something like,

“it’s really cool to get to talk to someone in real life about this stuff—if i may ask, what does identifying as [insert label] mean to you, personally?”

you might also say,

“i’ve never met someone who identifies with [their label] before. would you mind giving me some pointers on the important things to keep in mind in order to respect your identity/make sure you feel respected by me?”

i’ve also never asked anyone to correct me if i mess up and say something rude, but i’m working on the confidence and charisma to be able to say that, because i owe that to others.

all of that said, i wanted to respond to some of your specific questions, and clarify a couple of things below the cut. to clarify:

1. “describing [bisexual women] as lesbians seems kinda confusing because lesbian denotes specifically sapphic attraction”. to be clear i am not the one describing bisexual women as lesbians, in this hypothetical situation. when i post about bi-lesbians, i am posting in support of people who—for whatever reason—chose that label for themselves. what i am not doing: advocating to redefine the classically understood definition of lesbian for the entire populous.

2. “wouldn’t it be kinda confusing”? yes! i understand it can be confusing, and i commend you for expressing your confusion instead of reacting in disgust or anger. there are so many things in the queer community that are confusing, even to me, and you don’t need to feel guilty for asking questions as long as you come from a place of genuine curiosity. being confused isn’t bad, and defining yourself in a way that confuses others is, likewise, no transgression.

3. “for the genderqueer folks or trans folks, wouldn’t [identifying as a lesbian] just bring their genders closer to feminine […] wouldn’t non woman lesbians […] be seen as kinda more fem”? the answer is: sort of. it depends entirely on how and why the person using this label came to these words. you wrote, “i’ve heard from some pple i know, they don’t like non binary being seen as more womanly”, and i have definitely also heard that! so, for people who feel that way, they probably wouldn’t want a label that evokes womanhood and/or aligns them with femininity assigned to them. but every person is different—so for some nonbinary people, they absolutely do not want to be seen as “woman-lite”, whereas for other nonbinary people, they might want to be seen closer to femme than masc, while still nonbinary. this goes back to what i said at the beginning: best practice is to ask the people in your life how they want you to respect them.

closing thoughts: i hope this clarified some things, but i understand that the topic may still be confusing—feel free to message me if you want a non-judgmental queer to talk things through with. i promise i’ll take you in good faith <3

#ask fbp #anon ask

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good-griief · 2 years ago

Text

Time ; Regret

here's part two of "time"! i'm sure you all don't want me to end it here, so even tho i think it'd be a little cruelly funny to leave it up in the air like this, i promise there will be a part three— tho that will be the last part. this part is pretty dialogue-heavy, so i hope you enjoy the 'voices' i gave the characters<33

note sorry to have to post this again but tumblr posted it at the complete wrong time from my schedule and it wasn’t the right draft :( ( some kind of phone to computer mix up idk what happened</3 )

warnings ambiguous relationship/feelings between abby and reader, reference to romance, implications of unrequited love (it's not), she/her reader, lasting effects of torture to reader, morally grey reader, mention of joel's death/torture, ambiguous/story-teller dependent interpretation of major past event between characters

tags @frogtits1 @sawaagyapong @augieee21 @sunkissedbibi @eden-nox

part one part three

link to chapter 2 on ao3

After that, Abby decided against hugging you again, knowing she’d just get emotional. She didn’t know how you’d react to that anymore, so she played her safest bet and explained what happened from a distance, offering to help you work as she did. You didn’t react, but she could tell how upset you were just because you were so quiet.

When she offered to come over that night, you agreed immediately, and when she came to your house, you opened the door with puffy red eyes and swollen lips. She gave you a somber smile. “Come on.” She opened her arms for you, holding you for a moment before she came inside. “They wouldn’t want you to cry,” she said, trying to say something comforting you might, and it coming out improperly. It made you chuckle at her attempt, making her sigh as she stepped away from you. “I’m still not the best at comforting people,” she said quietly, shutting your door behind her as she entered with a small smile. She reached out, dragging her knuckle beneath your eye to rid of any stray tears. You smiled at the gesture, gaining one from her, too.

“You’re right, though.” You blinked away your feelings, taking her hand and leading her to your room so you could sit on the bed together. There was a brief, awkward silence. “What… Uh, what happened? How did it get to this?” You asked as you released her hand, playing with your own to distract yourself.

Abby swallowed, pursing her lips. She had a feeling you’d judge her for what she did, but she wasn't going to lie. “Joel… The way we— I killed him. Tortured him in front of his brother, and killed him in front of that girl; the one he killed everyone to save. She came after us. Went through all of our friends to get to me, and… let me go.” You couldn’t tell how she felt about being left alive, but you were glad she was, placing your hand back on hers for added comfort. “Don’t.” She went to pull her hand away, but you grabbed it with both of yours. “You can be upset with me—“

“I’m not.” You shook your head, holding her hand gently. “I never should’ve given you that lead. I’m sorry.”

“I would’ve found out eventually.” She shook her head. “And I still would’ve done it…” She grimaced. “And this all would’ve happened anyway.”

“There’s no point in blaming yourself,” you sighed. “You just have to—“

“Let go? Yeah… I’ve heard that,” she scoffed, giving your hand a squeeze before she let go. “Couldn’t do it before either.”

“I wasn’t going to say that, Abby.” You shook your head at her. “You just have to accept it. It probably won’t ‘get better,’ and you’ll probably never let go, but you’ll be able to move on with your life, and not feel guilty for that. Then eventually, you’ll start to remember happier things about them, and… you’ll accept it.”

“Is that what you did? Just accept it?” Her lip sneered when she asked the question, but her brows were bent upward with a contradictory emotion.

“I wanted to go back—“

“Why didn’t you?” She asked quickly, eyes rimming red just as quickly and making you avert your gaze.

“I couldn’t…” You shrugged, forcing that same flippancy you gave Mel and Nora. “I mean… I left like a fucking coward, Ab,” you laughed at yourself. “Going back? I’d feel like a complete fool. I couldn’t face you guys— I couldn’t even face you guys four years later. The only thing I could do was keep going and try not to fucking die, I don’t know.”

“Everyone wanted you back,” she muttered, now understanding the brief encounter you had months ago.

“I didn’t think you did.” Abby frowned, the words sounding like you were singling her out. “I thought, I don’t know, even if everyone else wanted me to be there, you wouldn’t after I suggested something so stupid.”

“It wasn’t stupid,” she said, chuckling lightly at your tone.

“It was insensitive.”

She shrugged. “I didn’t care… I didn’t even think of that, I just—“ She shook her head, sighing. “The first thing I thought when you mentioned it was that you were going to leave… I wanted to make it my choice that we wouldn’t see each other again, so I said something stupid— but if I’d just waited, let you talk, then… I would’ve realized you wanted to go together. Everyone just thought you planned on going alone.” She pursed her lips, looking away. “It was my fault everyone responded like that— don’t say it wasn’t,” she said before you could object. “No one would’ve said anything if I didn’t.”

“I didn’t care that much about what everyone else said. I figured they just thought I was going to leave you all, but… I thought you were telling me to leave for bringing it up in the first place.” You lied back on the bed so Abby wouldn’t see your face. “Even still, when I was alone, fucking terrified, the only thing I could think of was whether or not you guys were okay; how, maybe, it was better that I wasn’t there… It seemed like you guys got even closer when I saw you.”

There was a brief pause as Abby looked down at you. Clearly, you both needed to have this conversation, but it was almost impossible to have with how hard it was to sort out either of your feelings.

“The first thing I wanted to do when I realized you were gone,” she started slowly, “was go and find you; tell you that I don’t care, and if that’s what you wanted we could go. We could go to Los Angeles, or Santa Barbara, or San Francisco, or wherever the fuck you wanted to go, ‘cause I had no fucking idea what I was going to do without you… And I needed you.” The waver in her voice made you shut your eyes, taking in her words with a crease between your brows and a frown tugging at your lips. “I fucking needed you, and I just wanted to be with you, and I was scared, so I snapped at you thinking— I don’t know what I was thinking… Maybe-maybe if you knew we wouldn’t be together, then you wouldn’t go? Fuck, I just wanted you to stay with me,” she was rambling, words quick and spilling out until she caught herself, “and everyone else. Where you were safe. Where we were all safe. Together. I didn't mean to push you away.”

You had no idea what to say, staring up at the ceiling with a frown as your eyes shone beneath the warm light. You were quiet, voice small as if you knew just how wrong you were now. “I just wanted you happy,” you mumbled, hardly confident in what you used to think to yourself to justify your actions.

“Without you?” She scoffed at you. “Really?”

You shrugged, now thinking of anything that could back you up. “You had Owen.”

There was a moment of pause before Abby laughed, grabbing your pillow and hitting you with it. “Fuck you.”

“What?!” You laughed, pushing the pillow away and covering your face as she threw it at you. “You… loved him, or whatever,” you waved off, unable to hide the disdain in your voice.

“That’s what. You never liked us together.” You shrugged. “Why?”

You looked over at her, looking her up and down. “I don’t know.” You moved to sit up, huffing as you did and covering it with an exaggerated sigh. “You were my person.” There was a faint upward pull to her lips at that, but it fell quickly when she replayed the sentence in her head. She was your person, and you had stayed hers. After all those years; years of having your picture in her room or pocket, you had stayed close to her heart, but now she was nothing more than an old friend to you. “What?” You asked when you noticed her expression, reaching out and placing a hand on her thigh.

She swallowed, looking down at your hand. “Did you— Did you ever…” She stumbled over her words as she stared at your hand on her, eventually looking away. “Think about us? Any of us? I mean, you, Mel, and Nora were so close…”

You waited for her to finish, but that seemed to be the end of her sentence, so you stood. You went to your dresser, hand on your lower stomach as you grimaced but made sure to hide it from Abby. You grabbed an old jewelry box, taking it in unsteady hands and carrying it back to the bed where you set it down. Around your neck, there was a leather necklace you untied and pulled from your shirt, taking the key at the end of it and unlocking the box.

There was an old tape recorder inside. Headphones and car keys too, and a stack of photos among other trinkets.

Abby looked shocked, looking at you before reaching for the box when you nodded. The car keys, from the first time her dad taught you to drive, were tied to an old coin he’d gifted you. They were on top of an old photo of you and him in his greenhouse.

Her hands went for the other photos, looking through them and seeing how many there were of her or the two of you. You had more of your friends than you did with them; some of these photos she’d never seen before and making her brows pull together as she smiled somberly.

“When I was in Washington,” you spoke up quietly, looking at the pictures as Abby went through them. “Leah was on patrol when my group was leaving. I didn’t have many pictures of us together, so she gave me most of those… I guess she just had them with her.”

Abby smiled faintly. “She kept pictures of us with her all the time.” Her smile then fell again. “I thought you guys left immediately?”

You pursed your lips. “I needed a little extra medical attention before we could leave. She found our hiding spot.” You quickly continued before she could question you. “So I told her about how I lost one of my only pictures of us and my other tape recordings, and she just gave them to me.”

“Of us?” She looked up at you and you nodded. Abby went into her pocket, fingers digging for a wrinkled piece of paper. “I don’t have the recording with me; it's in my room, but… ” she muttered, pulling out the photo and smoothing over the water damaged paper before she handed it to you. “It’s a little ruined.”

“You had this?!” You took it, looking down at the picture and feeling your eyes burn before you moved to hug her, arms squeezing around her shoulders. “You don’t know how bad I felt about losing this, Abby.”

Her hands found your hips, awkwardly pulling you into her before her arms went around your waist to comfort you with how emotional you were getting over one picture. “It’s okay,” she tried to soothe, hand running up and down your back. “I’m glad you lost it. I finally got to keep a picture of us,” she laughed awkwardly, leaning back against your bedframe with you still in her arms. She knew you were trying to hide your face from her, so she let you stay as you were. “I actually thought you just left it behind.”

“What?” You laughed, pulling back to frown at her. She smiled at your laugh, hands still resting on your waist in case you hugged her again.

“I found it by the fire after you left.” She shrugged. “It was with your MP3.”

“So, what? You laughed again. “You thought I was burning pictures?”

“I don’t know, maybe?” She laughed, releasing you as you sat next to her with an eye roll.

Usually, you’d lean into her, or rest your head on her shoulder when you sat next to her, but now things were so different that you couldn’t just bounce back into old habits.

Every touch, every word, every glance, it was all based on feeling; some feeling that was brought up by the past before that fleeting feeling passed too, and soon, Abby was starting to realize you’d become complete strangers to one another. You hardly understood each other anymore. You weren’t certain how the other would react, or reciprocate, you didn’t even know what could be said at times. Even if you could reminisce for hours, when it came to talking and being present, there was hardly anything you could do.

It left Abby forgetting your advice and wishing she could go back to do this all over again; forget about finding Joel first and just find you. Or just go with you to California and spend the years like you did. No matter how much she wanted to go find him. No matter how much she would have regretted it.

At least you wouldn’t be a stranger to her.

Though, she had no idea how those years were for you. She didn’t know the hell you’d gone through, or the sleepless nights. No matter how much you told her that night, you didn’t tell her how you made yourself sick with guilt to the point that you had to lock all of your keepsakes away. Especially because you thought you’d lost one. She didn’t know how hard you worked to accept everything that happened, how seeing them after four years caused a rift between you and your squad to the point that they were telling you just to stay in Washington, how her showing up completely threw you off guard.

But maybe that was for the best.

Because that night, while she was wide awake, thinking of how she could find a way to know you again, you slept soundly. Sleeping through the night for once as you lied with the picture Abby left with you under your pillow.

The next morning, Abby came to the greenhouse. You smiled when you saw her, setting aside your plants to give her your full attention.

“Hey.” She smiled. “I’m going on my first patrol—“

“Already?” Your worried tone made her chuckle. “Ab, you’re still recovering.“

“I know, but I need to get back out there. I’ll go crazy if I don’t.” You grimaced, crossing your arms. “I was wondering if you’d go with me? It’s just around the island, so no combat.” You narrowed your eyes, wondering why she’d bring that up. “It’ll be quick,” she continued to try and persuade you.

“I don’t go on patrols anymore,” you told her, replacing your questioning glare with a sympathetic smile. “Sorry.”

“Oh…” She didn't ask why, just nodded before reaching into her pocket. “Okay, well, I brought this with me to give back to you—“

“No, no, no. Keep it.” You took her photo out of your pocket and handed it over. “I’m sure you’ve realized these go together now. You’ve had them for years. Please.”

The way you spoke to her, so cordially it seemed formal, made her feel uncomfortable in a way she couldn’t describe. She gladly kept the items, thankful you hadn’t, but also wishing you at least seemed to want them.

“Maybe…” You looked around, all of your morning duties done for now. “Maybe I could go with you just this once,” you suggested upon seeing the look on her face.

But she didn’t want you to placate her.

“That’s alright.”

“You sure?” You frowned at the sudden change in tune.

“I’m sure there’s a reason you don’t go anymore.” She gave you a smile and you nodded.

After that day, you didn’t speak much. Lev would come for lessons, and Abby would have to get him sometimes, but slowly, she just faded into another one of your comrades; people you knew but had no relationship with. People who hardly crossed your mind on a day-to-day basis.

She overheard you with one you were closer to— one of your new friends.

“So,” she started, “you know that new girl?” She asked as Abby passed by the greenhouse on her way out to patrol. She planned to get a pouch from you, but paused to eavesdrop. “I heard she’s from Salt Lake.”

You’d hummed. “We grew up together… But I don’t really know her anymore,” you’d admitted quietly, solemn.

Your friend huffed a laugh. “You’re so dramatic. What’s that supposed to mean, huh?”

You chuckled. “I dunno, just… Ya know, when I did know her, she was the best person I ever met. So gentle… kind. She had a way with animals— people, too. I don’t know, she was always so perfect to me when we were younger. I probably had a little crush on her or something.” Your friend cooed at you. “But as we grew up, we were, just, so close. Her dad just took me in like family after mine was… taken.” She could hear your voice falter. “But when he was killed, things changed… Remember that tip I gave in Washington? ‘Bout Tommy.” Your friend hummed. “His brother, Joel. He was the one to kill him, and Abby… She beat him to death. In front of his brother… In front of his kid.”

She could hear the way you struggled to get the words out, biting her inner cheek. She wanted to leave, but she also wanted to know what else you’d say, waiting for you to continue.

“And I don’t even blame her. It makes me sick, but I don’t blame her ‘cause if I ever found out who destroyed my family?” Your voice darkened. “I’d do so much worse.”

“No need to justify to me,” your friend huffed, humming in agreement. “I know exactly what you mean.”

There was a pause before you spoke again “And sometimes, I wish I’d been there to see it through. To know that he’s actually dead… Or, even just to be there for her— ‘cause the girl that I knew? She never could’ve done that. I never would’ve let her get to that point; feel that way? Hurt that much but… I left her.” Your friend tried to speak over you, but you stopped her. “So, I can’t help but feel at fault for what happened to our friends. I don’t know anyone who would still want to care about me after what I did. So, I just feel like I don’t know her anymore. I can’t understand her at all.”

Abby thought of talking to you that night, telling you she overheard the conversation, but she couldn’t bring herself to face you knowing how guilty you felt.

What if seeing her made you feel worse? Talking to her made you feel sick? She’d spent all these years feeling guilty, only to find out you felt the same— and now even more so because you knew how she ended up here. Like this.

She could say the same thing about you. She thought you were perfect when you were younger, she wanted to protect you as you got older, and she felt like she failed you now. Like it was her fault you felt this way. She could say the exact same things you did, which was why she kept her distance and waited for you to come to her.

She waited.

And waited.

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby anderson hcs #abby x reader #abby tlou #abby anderson x fem reader #abby anderson fluff #abby the last of us #abby and lev #abby anderson angst #abby anderson ff #abby anderson fic #abby anderson x you #abby x you #tlou abby #tlou x reader

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smallishzine · 2 months ago

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hi i was just wondering of any of the mods have any previous experience with organising fandom zines or events in the past?

Warning! The following answer is long, boring, mostly unrelated to the question, and kind of a Debbie Downer. Sorry anon/gen. hi it’s me one of the mods. The other mods are me when I’m actually on my meds, me at 3 am, and me when I’ve had a good nights sleep. The last one has not made an appearance as of yet. No I’ve never done this before and I’m freaking out because I have no clue what you’re meant to ask people on a mod application form and what determines who I should let in once they go out. I’ve never even been in a zine before, my experience with community events consists of I’m currently working on (read: avoiding cause I’m lost on what to do for) a gift for a gift exchange. That’s it. I’ve got no clue who to ask cause I’m paranoid about internet safety and also I’ve got school on top of this and I’m just kinda lost as to what to do because I’ve started this whole thing so before I can hand off the responsibility to someone who is capable of making good judgment and doesn’t have to split their time between working on the zine and doing homework, I’ve got to make some important decisions about who on the internet is trustworthy and I’m terrified that I’m gonna screw up and face consequences a whole lot worse then just the zine doesn’t get made. I don’t know how to verify if someone is a person I feel safe contacting over the internet, and how to maintain my anonymity as a mod so that my personal blog doesn’t get the same hate mail that the zine is getting and I’m, to be maybe a bit too honest, scared. Sorry for rambling especially cause I doubt this was what was intended with the question I guess I just needed to say this somewhere lol. Did I kill the mood? Sorry. I know you all followed cause the interest form was funny and the post I linked it on was funny and it seemed like there were a bunch of experienced people working together on this who knew what they were doing and so now using this blog to vent feels duplicitous and like it could possibly kill the zine because no one is here to listen to some kid whine about high school lol. I worked hard to seem effortlessly funny and confident about my lack of a plan, and while I didn’t necessarily say that there was more than one mod, I kind of implied it, cause I thought people would only want to participate if it seemed like there were a bunch of people capable of being responsible running the zine who would be fun to work with and would be totally on top of getting things done so contributors would be able to just focus on their piece. I wanted to seem like someone people would want to be friends with, cause really I started this zine cause I wanted to make friends, and I’m worried that now that people know that it’s just some whiny screenager who’s never touched grass with no idea what he’s doing who is really not all that funny unless he’s spent hours agonizing over what to say running the zine then they won’t want to participate, and I personally can’t blame them. I’m so, so, sorry for all the times that I made it seem like I’m someone I’m not, and I hope that people will still consider contributing even if the zine’s chances are a lot iffy-er than I made it seem. I’m scared to take offers from people saying that they want to help because creeps in the past have got me paranoid. So many people have said nice things about the zine and how excited they are for it and said that I could dm them with questions and I appreciate those people so so much but it’s difficult to drown out all the hate I’ve been seeing, which I’ve been trying to ignore, but it makes me hesitant about taking up those offers for help and sending out applications, cause I don’t want to bring some weirdo into a group chat to have them harass the zine makers and I’m not sure I’m capable of making this a positive experience for people without someone I can trust helping me and getting an internet friend I trust to help would involve leaking my personal blog and I can’t handle getting hate mail from both of them.

idk im just really lost and overthinking this and needed to rant about it, mod applications will still probably go out next month, I’ll do some research into what is usually on them, and also this is a niche enough thing that I probably don’t have to be so concerned about creeps, and there are a ton of people who’ve shown their support for the zine and it would be a disservice to them to act like everyone hates me, and everything is gonna be fine and probably a fun time and I’m just tired and needed to say all this somewhere to convince my brain how ridiculous it’s being lol. I might delete this post later, cause it’s kind of a downer honestly a high schooler complaining about his anxiety on the internet isn’t gonna get people interested and excited for the zine, I guess I just wanted to be transparent about what currently my thought process is and to ask that, having read this, you guys are patient with me as I figure out what the heck is going on. I’ll be back on my being funny enough that people think I’m actually Joel game on the form I promise guys, don’t worry just needed to get sappy there for a second but that is not what the zine is actually gonna be like it’s just gonna be fun and silly, and again sorry anon for derailing your ask.

#smallishzine #smallishzine asks #smallishzine being idiots

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monsieurdotpng · 3 months ago

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Hello, this is kenny.png. Recently, my recent words have caused you a great deal of concern, I've even noticed it in your comments and DMs. I sincerely apologize for having worried you, I wasn't myself anymore at this moment.

It means a lot to me that you were concerned about me. I'm so sorry that all of this mess happened. I confess, I was on the verge of stopping everything, stopping being "kenny.png" and to disappear as if I never existed. But fortunately I refrained from doing so.

The main reason behind my behavior were linked to the fact I was and still overbusy with school works who put enormous pressure on me, more it was hard to work on it and the more I told myself I wasn't up to the task so much so that I felt discouraged afterwards and unable to keep sharing the content I usually post on social networks which I enjoy a lot to do with all of you. Another main reason is linked to a certain IRL moment that occured in February 2024. I won't talk about it here but if you want to know about it... Please let me know through DMs and I'll do my best to explain the whole situation. That said, even if I was about to do so, I won't be leaving this account, not anymore. Today I realize how lucky I am to be alive, to share my joy with all of you.

Even if it's not through art, I will still be there, even during the worst time of my life. I want to enjoy my life as never before. You guys helped me and I'm ready to help you aswell if ever you have any problems. I'll do my best to help you in the future.

For now, kenny.png will now take a break from posting any form of art until I get fully better and ready. I intend to rise from my ashes when the time comes. I'll keep being active on social networks even if it's not for posting art, at least if I'm not too busy.

Now about the brush set I uploaded through Google Drive the other day, I admit it was rushed. I must say that I had promised to post my brush set for a long time. Well... It's now done and I'm very happy to share this with you and I hope you'll enjoy using this brush set.

I reserve the right to make a tutorial on how to use this brush set in the future and see even a full tutorial on how to replicate the "Mario & Luigi" art style if any of you guys would like.

Now for the Brothership part, I admit I was clumsy in the pronunciation of my words. There's indeed chances I might not be able to enjoy the game the day of its release and this is due to the fact I might still be busy working on my school work and actually, I can't afford to buy the game yet. I think I'll be waiting a bit before I get the game in my hands and of course I plan to play it. As I was told, we're witnessing the rebirth of the "Mario & Luigi" games and I wouldn't miss it for the world!

There's a good chance that I will delete the last posts, if you guys thinks it's a good idea, please let me know.

To finish, I'll be back, no matter what, stronger than before. I'll keep doing what I enjoy the most, always will! Thank you very much everyone! Your support really means a lot to me. See you soon!

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romaine2424 · 2 years ago

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Daily Blog June 27, 2023

Arg! I'd hoped to spend sometime planting the pretty flowers I bought yesterday but to my dismay I discovered an invasive weed was mixed in with my Shasta Daisies, which are just about to bloom. The kind of weed that attaches to your clothes and skin. Gloves came out and two hours later, I made a huge dent. Flowers tomorrow.

I had mentioned there were would be additional categories I'd throw into the mix and today I have one I've been anxious to get to. I'm going to call it Magical Elves. They are the people who help make fandom run. I mentioned @phoenixacid in an earlier post, who has been hosting @hd-fan-fair for ten years. This category will cover folks like her and that do even more...yes, even more...

What I'm reading:

On the Discord Drarry Fans Writers and Artists there is a channel for recs. I stole this one from there but then discovered I'd already read it. However, it was long enough ago that I don't remember all of the details. I think I read it when it first came out and before I hopped back into fandom in spring of 2021. The Ordeal of Being Known (146k) by @lou-isfake. I'm only on chapter 3 right now but I just love this Draco and his Oscar the Grouch house-slippers and his house-elf Timsy. The writing is so fresh and clever, I find myself smiling most of the time. Here's the summary, which I think gives you a flavor of the writing style I'm talking about:

When Auror Potter is anonymously cursed with silence by being forced to hide his own voice inside his mind, there's unfortunately only one person in the country with the qualifications to fix it: Certified and Licensed Healer Legilimens, Draco Malfoy, specialist in Mind Curses and Afflictions. It's obviously a terrible idea, a disaster waiting to happen, but Draco's never been able to back down from a challenge... especially from Potter. Features fuzzy cartoon slippers, devious house elves, 90s music, and lots—LOTS—of memories. Ron is annoyingly hot, Hermione sees right through you, Harry is a powerful idiot, and Draco is a reclusive masochist that would buy an entire city if it would make a kid happy. (And Pansy is "5'2, I wanna dance with you, and I'm sophisticated fun.")

Go read The Ordeal of Being Known on AO3.

Hit the Keep Reading!!!!!

Magical Elves:

The first person I want to highlight in this category is actually someone I've met in person at HP Cons and we've stayed in touch over the years in real life. *hugs darlin* You've probably seen @sassy-cissa's name as an author or maybe an email asking you about a fic for a fest but I'm betting most of you have no idea how much she's done for fandom for more than a decade and half, especially for Drarry fandom.

Let me list the ways in how awesome she is:

Current modding responsibilities:

25 Days of Draco and Harry (started in 2009) What 2009 ? Oh my! And do you know she reads each and every story posted for the fest and comments, too! HD Mpreg Fest – (started in 2011 – I've been modding since 2018) HD Fan Fair/Career Fair – co-modding since 2019)

Previous modding responsibilities:

Co-mod for H/D Erised from 2014 to 2018 Moderated the H/D Prophet from about 2016 to 2021

See that last one H/D Prophet. Take a look at the link just for a moment. Every Drarry WIP that was updated that week was listed, fests' status, drabble prompts, etc...Every single week. The prophet soon closed down after a few more months due to lack of participation (fandom had moved away from LJ).

Communities owned and/or Maintain:

On LJ: Slythindor100 and HarryDraco Mpreg On Tumblr: H/D Mpreg and Slythindor100

In addition, why yes there is more, Sassy writes, too, and beautifully! Sassy-Cissa (on AO3). Over 109 stories, mostly Drarry, some Hermione/Severus and a few Harry/Ginny...but as she put it....(but they usually end up divorced or Ginny dies). *snicker*

And she's on FanLore! And she also betas for some of the best.

So I know this is long but I just want folks to be aware of those working in the background, making our experience here in fandom enjoyable and filled with lovely content. They truly are magical elves. Sassy doesn't post much on Tumblr or on Discord but she does pop-in now and then. Next time you see her name, you'll now know who she is.

Tumblr Tidbit:

Did you know that you can edit the text below the Keep Reading line on your post and it will make the changes to all reblogs of your post. Edit above and sorry the reblogs will show the original. This comes in handy if you're making a Masterlist of works or something else that has lots of links or needs to be updated frequently.

Happy Tuesday and Sorry this was so late. My ancient computer decided to crash multiple times. Rom

#romaine2424 daily blog #June 2023 #Magical Elves

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syrupspinner · 2 months ago

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top 10 most anticipated indie games!

in no particular order, not affiliated with any of em, etc etc

of the Devil

so, funny story. i had some fanart of this game set as my phone background when i went to get a new phone. check it out here! anyway, the cleric who only really plays ff14 looked at it and went "woah, what's that? it looks like danganronpa." and i was like. yeah buddy! sure does! then, of course, i began proselytizing, about how the game's demo did an amazing job at establishing not only the game's wonderfully directed art style, with the ui and the music and everything else working together to make a perfectly opressive cyberpunk atmosphere, but how the writing of the mystery and morgans character is so intriguing and compelling and auuuugh i wanna play this fucking game dude. i love morgans smile i hope she makes me eat a bomb

2. UNBEATABLE

so imagine muse dash, but instead of high-contrast anime girls and dubious dlc practices, it's just punk as fuck. theres nothing i can say about the game other than linking the side-story/demo and telling you to just go with the flow and dig the vibes. the soundtrack rocks hard, and the visuals are so well done. everything looks like a poster collage for a garage band youve never heard of. also the trailer for the full game showed off a graffiti mechanic and thats all i need

3. Demonschool

i talked about demonschool a lot back in my nextfest post, and my thoughts havent changed at all. im a slut for strategy rpgs, and a big reason for that is i like planning my moves in advance and seeing what the best use of all my ally's abilities are. so the game's mechanic of the shared ability meter that you use for multiple moves over one turn, plus the ability to rewind moves before committing to them, AND the high level of combo potential in everything's interactivity? pumped as hell. there was recently a dev update about how you can light yourself on fire and spread that damage to the environment with every attack if that helps sell you

4. Roman Sands RE:Build

i dont need to say shit. just look at it. LOOK at it. this is so ridiculously catered to my tastes on presentation alone that i cant even come up with a hyperbolic simile. its y2k dreamcast beach artstyle, its time loop with routing optimization, its arbitrary celestial puzzle with unexplained mechanics, its stupid gomotion noodle people, its abstract nonsense that is actively and literally hostile towards the player for trying to understand it. im gonna CUM dude

5. Sorry We're Closed

how often do you see a fixed-camera shooter about a woman with three eyes? the fucking atmosphere, man. even from the demo i can tell that a la mode knows what theyre doing. i love how there isnt like, a limit or meter on your third eye, thats something i can easily see another game doing. but the downsides of only being able to hurt enemies in range AND having to aim at their weak spots is already a good balance to encourage you to switch it up. its so deliciously frictional that you have to go in first person to attack anything, and theres a delay when you do it so youve gotta be really cautious and defensive. and oh man, the cleaver enemy! that was so tense, and so much of that was from the expert audio design that made it so unclear how close he is or where exactly he is, just that hes getting closer. im gonna lose my shit about this game when the full thing drops. fun fact: this releases tomorrow, so this is literally the last day that i can post this. oops!

6. .45 PARABELLUM BLOODHOUND

how often do you see a fixed-camera shooter about a woman with three eyes? ive never played parasite eve, which this is purported to be a spiritual successor to, but the action seems really interesting. sukeban's website explains it like this: "you move and dodge in real time while you wait for an Action bar to fill at a speed determined by character and weapon stats. Once that’s done you can then stop time and plan your offensive". that sounds stupidly fun. judging by the trailers and shit, theres gonna be a big focus on combo chains and your character having multiple attacks she can switch between, but theres not much i can really say about that until theres a demo or something.

7. YIIK: A Postmodern RPG (Update I.V)

i know an update is cheating a bit, but ackk studios considers it to be a thorough enough reimagining that it almost constitutes a sequel. if you havent played the demo then you should give it a shot. my only experience with yiik before it was secondary, through discussions and lets play compilations, and i was totally blown away. the combat was totally reworked, so instead of those repetitive and drawn-out minigames its a way more engaging system where you can use "karta" as defensive shields with passive buffs or sacrifice them for spells. its one of those things that sounds weird and complicated when you explain it, but in gameplay it just kinda clicks. it also seemed to double down on he surrealism and abstract psychological themes, which is my fucking jam. i think missed potential is the worst flaw something can have, so hearing that yiik is growing into its most flawless form is exciting as hell

8. FreeJack Online

unfortunately, i found out about this game about a month after its last online playtest. the dev's discord says they wont reopen unless they find a publisher, and theyre not sure if thats gonna happen reasonably soon. but secondhand, this game looks like a killer time. you guys know im super into this hip hop skatepunk urban style, so even if the gameplay is total shit ill still be all over the ost and character design. but this gameplay doesnt look like shit! you build up trick combos and that contributes to your speed as you parkour around and try to win races. its been a while since ive sunk myself in a competitive online game and i think thisll be what gets me back into it, someday

9. Hyper Light Breaker

yknow im kinda surprised this list hasnt been more roguelikes considering how much i play em. hlb looks like its aiming for an interesting combo of roguelike and open-world, and im really interested in how that shakes out. the combat looks like a really good transition of the speedy high-stakes fighting from hld into 3d. im really hopeful for this game, especially everything heart machine is going through with gearbox and the fanbase backlash for the delays.

10. The Hundred Line -Last Defense Academy-

im saying this counts as indie because im in denial. so, i mentioned how the phone clerk guy was a danganronpa fan, right? he played all the mainline games, and even got into zero escape looking for more (he played VLR before 999? lmao) but he had no idea what too kyo games was. never heard of Death Come True, or Akudama Drive, or World's End Club, or Rain Code, or Tribe Nine. really goes to show how much publicity matters, huh? anyway, in case you couldnt tell, i am a 'fan' of danganronpa. theres a lot you could say about it, like how the writing is juvenile and contrarian and how it consistently struggles to write unpredictable mysteries despite this and also how kodaka just fundamentally fails at writing minorities and the pacing issues and flat characters and... you get it. but its never boring. and considering they officially hired the guy who wrote the spin-off novel where kirigiri gets cloned into a houseplant, i feel like its just gonna get less boring from here

look at this shit. im along for the ride at this point

#of the devil #unbeatable #demonschool #roman sands rebuild #roman sands re:build #sorry we're closed #45 parabellum bloodhound #yiik a postmodern rpg #yiik i.v #freejack online #hyper light breaker #the hundred line last defense academy #lemme know if you wanna hear me shill more stuff on my wishlist!

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lifeonthemurdersim · 3 months ago

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A Perfect Mind Fandom/Universe: Human Nature / Sadistic By Nature Universe Characters/Pairing: Theodore Kingswell x Jet Michaels AO3 Link(full tags, warnings etc here)Word count: 3,632 words Synopsis: Theo loves every part of Jet. Every part. But that doesn't mean he doesn't have his favourites... Author's Note: Jet belongs to @cptsadist! I am... so sorry about this(except not in the slightest) lovely! 😅 More about Gorekinktober on my pinned post here! Kinktober prompt(s) used: Body Worship Goretober prompt used: Exposed Brains

He had to work quickly. Most people, when they fainted, only lost consciousness for a few minutes at most. So he had to settle for hiding the corpse in the closet and hoping not too much blood dripped out, though it was already pretty much everywhere by this point. What he mustn't do was forget again. Once the smell of rotting flesh got into your apartment, it didn't come back out easily. He knew that from experience. He'd have to find a way to dispose of it when Jet was...

Wait, when would he? He certainly wasn't going to allow him out. After everything that just happened he was reluctant to even let him out of his sight. It might have to be when he was asleep tonight. As long as he didn't wake him up or he'd be screwed. He felt like everything was unravelling around him. When did love become so complicated?

He didn't have long to dwell on it though, because no sooner had he got the doors shut tight and pick Hauer's bag back up, as there was a stirring from the bed. He turned and walked quickly back over, looking over Jet carefully, pushing his hair back off of his forehead. "Heyyyyy." he said in a soft, caring tone, giving him a little smile and dropping the bag back down on the bed.

"Theo?" he replied, shifting up to sitting despite his wrist still being cuffed. "Where's-"

"They're gone... they... left..." he interrupted quickly, then realised even his beloved Jet with his sweet, wonderfully trusting nature might not be able to be persuaded out of believing things he'd seen with his own eyes. "I uh... called an ambulance." he lied hastily. "I know it looked bad, Jet, but... they're gonna be fine." He realised that the fucking weird wannabe hero shit she had yelled just before he cut into her might actually work in his favour here. "She even told you herself she'd be OK, right?"

"Oh." Jet replied, looking at Theo with an uncertainty he didn't have earlier. "O...K...." Theo hated that. How dare they come back into his life and mess with his Jet, after everything he'd done for them? How dare they turn Jet against him? "I... guess that makes sense..."

"They've... they've poisoned you." Theo said, feeling near heartbroken, that churning feeling working it's way around his gut again. "You don't like me anymore...."

"What?" Jet responded. "No, no... I still like you!" he insisted. It was really hard for Theo to know if he meant it or was responding in fear now. "It's just... a little hard to believe, you know?" He peered up, eyeing up all the blood on the carpet and looking a little queasy.

"I... guess I get it." Theo said softly. He wouldn't let that interfere with what they had though. He couldn't. "Look..." He brushed his fingertips against the side of Jet's face, and the smaller man looked up at him, drawn in by the touch. "Can we just... forget all of that happened... pretend it never happened... go back to... how things were before?" he asked desperately. He wasn't even sure he wanted that. The way things were wasn't enough, it was never enough.

"I... I don't know if we can go back, Theo..." Jet replied uncertainly. "You said you loved me..." he said a little incredulously, but while he looked happy about that, the doubt began to creep back over his expression. "You said you've been watching me for... how long now?" Theo swallowed, not sure if this was going to work for or against him.

"Uh... almost a year now." he admitted. "I... I actually came across you for work reasons. You... sold me some information I needed to get this exposé shot the paper wanted. But I needed another and I..." He'd been so sick of communicating online, it really wasn't his thing. He couldn't explain that part now though; he didn't want Jet to know that. God, had he already said too much. Jet had agreed to meet him in a slightly shady bar downtown, obviously quite trusting.

When he saw him at the bar however, he faltered rather suddenly. He'd expected some awkward computer nerd. Instead Jet was talking to the barman and he looked so happy, confident, normal. Theo didn't have the confidence to talk to someone like that. So he walked straight past, hovered from a distance for a while and eventually left. But something changed in him that day. He became obsessed with wanting to be that man, that confident man at the bar.

"And you what?" Jet asked, as he'd apparently trailed right off.

"I... watched you for a long time..." he explained. So long that it became more than aspiration. It became attraction, too. The want to be Jet never really went away, but the want to also be with him emerged, and he found the metronome swung wildly between the two when it came to what was strongest. He wanted to be inside his body in every sense of the world. Even now, even with having had one of those experiences first hand, both longings were ever present. "So like I said... this isn't just some dumb crush, I... I love you, Jet. I love every single part of you." He took his beloved's hand again, holding it with both of his and kissing the back of it

"R-really?" he asked, blushing deeply as he locked eyes with him. "All of me?"

"Yes, Jet." he breathes reverently. "All of you. Perfect, beautiful, flawless you."

"Theo, I'm not p-" he begun, then giggled a little as Theo began to run soft kisses up and down his fingers. "Oh, that... feels nice..."

"Shhhh." Theo replied softly. "You are. You absolutely are." He believed it wholly. He'd destroy anyone who suggested his boy was in any way flawed. Oh... maybe he shouldn't think like that. But right now, after everything that happened, even Theo knew he wasn't feeling the most... stable. "I adore you, Jet. I worship you. Every inch of you..." He kissed his way up the back of the smaller man's hand again, all the way to his shoulder.

"O-oh!" Jet stuttered as the kisses reached his neck. Theo kissed up and down it as he went along, earning soft little moans from the goth before he went back down his other shoulder, arm, hand. This was the one that was cuffed. He looked up at Jet for a moment, then pulled off the key at his neck and undid the cuff, pulling Jet's hand to him as he released it. He looked for new parts to appreciate, flipping his hand over and then kissing at his wrist.

"I adore... the very blood that flows through these veins..." he said, kissing the sensitive spot and also planting his nose there to smell his scent. "If only... I could see it... right now..."

"Oh!" Jet replied. "Uh... look Theo, that's... that's really nice but I think... maybe you should stick to the bits you... can see?" More... very slight uncertainty. Poisoned his Jet. Poisoned his Jet. He had to stop worrying about it. She was dead. They couldn't ever touch him again. Touched his Jet. Touched his Jet. He willed his brain to stop reminding him. "Theo? Are you OK?"

"Yes... of course... perfect..." he murmured absently. He screwed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to rid it of the horrible images it kept conjuring up, and pressed on, doing what Jet asked and focusing on what he could see, touch, kiss. He returned to working down his hand, pressing a kiss right into his palm, sticking his tongue out a little and grazing along his fingers. Jet gasped as he did it, subtly shifting his shoulders, looking like he was enjoying it very much. "You like that, my little gem?" he asks Jet.

"Yeah..." Jet replied, biting at his lip slightly. "I... really, really do." Theo smiled and began to run his tongue back onto the other's palm in a soft circle, to his wrist again, his inner arm, back up his bicep and shoulder, swirling right inside of his collarbone, up his neck. Jet gripped at his shirt, pulling him in for a desperate kiss that took him by surprise a little.

Theo didn't back away from the kiss, slipping his tongue into Jet's mouth with gentle pressure, letting his body fall against the shorter man's a little. He loved him so much, he could easily just melt right into him. At the same time, everything was screaming at him from his ritual being interrupted. He didn't know... he didn't know... Theo had to keep it together.

He pulled away from the other's lips before he could get carried away, beginning to move to kiss one of Jet's cheeks, then the other, then his nose, then up to his forehead. He lingered there a moment as he stroked his hair back. Thinking about that wonderful brain that lurked inside there. Jet closed his eyes with a sweet little giggle, but then looked up at Theo as he hovered there.

"Theo..." he said. "This is cute but I..." he locked eyes with him a little feverishly, hand moving to his cheek. "I need you... fuck me... please..." Theo stared at him for a second but then shook his head, frowning just a little even though part of him wanted that too.

"No... nono..." he responds breathily. "I need... I need to worship all of you... first..."

"Theo..." Jet whines, thrusting up towards him, obviously a little keen for contact. Theo can feel that he's already hard against his inner thigh, and he's certainly getting there himself, too. "You don't... you don't have to do that..."

"Please... Jet..." Theo begs back, running a hand over his face, down onto his neck, his hand gripping it, but lightly, so lightly. "You need to let me touch all of you... t-to show you that I love all of you..." he explained, reaching down to run a hand along his knees, his calves, anywhere he could reach, just as desperate to complete that as Jet was to have Theo inside of him.

"OK..." Jet says. "Uh... maybe..." he began, clearly wracking his brains for an idea of how to help. So sweet of him. The best. "What if you just... pick your favorite part... and you can... worship that however you want." he suggested, biting at his lip a little.

"I... I don't know..." he replied, still trying to touch all he can of Jet, running a hand up under his shirt and onto his bare skin, making the other shiver with excitement. It's partly the compulsion and partly because he thinks it might be... weird to admit the truth. Jet seems to pick up on his expression.

"Theo..." Jet said, putting a hand to his shoulder. "If it's somewhere I'm gonna enjoy I'm all for it." he replied. "But even if it's somewhere a bit less... usual... I'm not gonna judge, OK?" Theo looks at him for a moment. His expression is so sweet that he really can't bear to turn him down.

"Y-yes... OK..." he replied. He pulled the bag he stole from the doctor across. He had managed to get some diazepam from Hauer legitimately before he decided to take it. He started to kiss his way back down Jet's face, neck, shoulder and arm but this time he stopped when he got to his inner elbow, running his thumb over the sensitive skin there.

"There?" Jet replied, looking down at what he was doing. Theo shook his head, searching carefully for a vein. When he was confident he could get one without a tourniquet, he pulled the small syringe from the side pocket of the bag. At least that was actually prepped for him. "Woah, what is that?" Jet asked.

"Just a... little something to relax you..." Theo explained. He unsheathed the tip of the needle and then went back, stretching the skin to make the vein prominent enough. "Make it... easier..."

"OK but you don't really have to do that, I mean... I'm cool with whatever you want to do to me!" He winked, but then there was a pause, another hesitation. One that still needed stamping out, in Theo's opinion. "Wait, what... do you want to do, exactly? Is this... about my blood again?"

"Shhhh..." Theo replies, sticking the needle into Jet's vein. "My favourite part isn't your blood, silly..."

"Oh! OK good!" Jet replied. "Because y'know, I didn't know if I could handle seeing any more!" he admitted. Theo proceeded with injecting the drug in silently. He wasn't sure how to tell his sweet little Jet that just because he wasn't going for his blood, that didn't mean there wouldn't be any more. Best not to, really. It wasn't really a lie, just an... omission.

"Just... try to relax a little, my darling." he told him as he pulled the needle out, pressing hard with his thumb and keeping it there for a moment. It might take a couple of minutes to kick in.

"OK I'll... try I guess!" Jet said brightly. Theo smiled at him, planting kisses along his neck, his cheek, his lips. He got caught up there again, kissing him a little longer, the passion between them still very evident. Jet was letting out the cutest little whimpers, his hands all over Theo. The urge to fuck him was still very much there. But he couldn't give in. He'd already accepted a compromise his mind could handle, and he needed to follow through with that to get any peace. This way he would get to be inside him in a way he's never been before.

"How are you feeling?" he asked Jet as he pulled away again. The other's grey eyes were unusually focused.

"Oh, uh... nice actually." Jet replied, his tone calmer than usual, if a little flat of his usual enthusiasm. "Quite... chill."

"Good." Theo said affectionately. He raised Jet's hand with his own, feeling the lack of resistance. Like his own little rag doll. "I want you to be comfortable, always..." It was just a shame he didn't get his hands on any kind of anaesthetic. But... it would just be a little cut. Mostly through bone. He wouldn't really feel it. "OK I'm... I'm ready to see it now." he murmured as he planted a kiss to Jet's cheek.

"Do I need to move?" his love asked with a little smile. Theo shook his head, raising himself up a little, moving his legs from between Jet's to straddling him, trying not to put too much weight on him.

"No, you... stay right there." Theo tells him a little deliriously. He turns Jet's face to the side with his hand so he's pinned to the bed, thumb and forefinger holding him down fairly firmly by his jaw. Jet gives him a slightly flirty glance at that. His other hand reaches up to brush the longer side of Jet's hair back away from the shaved side. That will make it so much easier. Just one of those things that makes him so perfect. He lifts his hand from Jet's throat again but the other doesn't move from that position. It's likely a lot of effort for him to do so now.

Theo looks back into the bag for what he needs. A long, thin, silver tool that was his reason for grabbing the bag in the first place. Because part of him knew, sooner or later he'd just have to see it. "I uh... saw this in a movie." he joked. This won't be like that though. That was awful. This will be... nice, and soft, and quick, and he'll be the one in control of it. First to test. He pulled the tool out. It wasn't battery operated, but there was an outlet at the side of the bed where he was able to plug it in.

"What... is that for?" Jet asked, sounding a little worried even amongst the calm.

"I need to see it, Jet. To... to kiss it." He runs a hand along the other's scalp. "My... my favourite part... like you said..."

"OK but what is your favorite-" he began, only to be cut off by the sharp whirr as Theo starts up the tiny drill. "Theo... wh-what are you...?" he heard him stammer, but he was too focused now. He had to see it. To show he worshipped it. Then they could continue.

He stops the drill momentarily, touches it to Jet's skin. "Theo... maybe... maybe don't do this?!" the goth begged as he tried to move away, but his movements are slow, groggy. Theo shushes him again as he pins his neck to the bed; just as gentle as before at first but as Jet tries to squirm he becomes a lot firmer. Not rough, just enough to keep him in place under the relaxant's effect. He strokes the drill gently across the side of Jet's head, still off currently while Jet looks up at him wide-eyed and terrified. "Y-you're gonna... leave that off, right?" he asks drowsily.

"Heyy, shhh..." Theo repeated. He lifted the drill a little, switching it on with another buzz and poking right into Jet's head as a test. Blood sprayed out, Jet cried out, and it hurt Theo, hurt him down deep in his stomach. He drew it back sharply, he couldn't bear to see or hear Jet in pain, but... he had to. He had to do this now. He couldn't go back.

"I'm sorry... I'm so s-sorry..." he repeated. He kissed the bloodied area apologetically, licking some of the blood from the wound.

"Th-theo..." Jet whimpered. "This hurts... like... really fucking hurts!"

"Shhhhh, shh, close your eyes my sweet little gem." Theo replied, trying not to cry. "We don't want you to see the blood and pass out again." Jet obeyed that part, closing his eyes, but he didn't stop fighting verbally.

"Please, Theo..." he whimpered. "Look... if this is about before I'm... I'm sorry. Just... please don't hurt me..."

It wasn't about before. Not really. Or at least it hadn't been. But then he thought about how he felt when he saw their hand on the back of his perfect boy's neck. The way they both looked when he found the two of them on the bed. No matter what they both insisted it was like finding Tash and her lover all over again. He didn't want things to go like that. Oh god... he didn't want to end up killing Jet. Once he'd finished this routine, somehow that memory would be gone, it would be over. He watches Ebony's dried blood mix with Jet's fresh blood on his hands. He had to do this. Then the past could be the past, and they could be together.

The happy ending was right within his grasp.

Jet was still whimpering out beneath him. It pulled at his heartstrings hearing his boy like that. He closed his own eyes for a moment, imagining they were the same whimpers and moans Jet made when he was inside him, and it placated him. Jet loved... loved when he was inside him. It was fine. He could keep going.

Just a little. Just a little. He just wanted to see it. He opened his eyes inserted the drill back into the hole he'd made in Jet's skin and skull with a soft squelch, careful not to go too deep. Then he switched the drill back on and began to carve the smallest heart he could. It was a very crude, lopsided heart, very small. He didn't want to hurt him. He didn't want to hurt him. Didn't want to change anything about him or his wonderful brain. Over the buzz of the tool, Jet was absolutely screaming now. Theo held him down by his head, elbow resting against the other's shoulder as blood began to spray out all over them both.

"Shhhh, come on now babyboy." he says as if he was just getting a little too loud in bed again, beginning to tune out the noise as he focused on what he was trying to do. "Remember what I said about waking the neighbours..." He's always noisy. Theo loves when he's noisy. He would never try and change that so... so it was fine. It was fine that he was screaming. "Because I love you..." he murmured. There was actually more noise in the distance, it sounded like something rather large was thundering it's way down the corridor to his apartment, but he can't focus on anything but the little heart he's carved.

He removed the small piece of bone from Jet's skull with a pair of large tweezers, holding it out of the way. He just needed to see it. "The...eo..." Jet begged in a pained, woozy gasp, apparently not able to even scream anymore. "Stop... please..." He tuned it out like everything else. Tuned it out so hard that he didn't even really register the door to his apartment being practically torn open.

"There it is..." Theo murmured with a smile, looking over the folds and squiggles of Jet's brain, his own crying out at him to touch it, to get inside of there, inside of Jet where he belonged. He leaned down and pushed his lips through the tiny, blood-smeared hole to plant a kiss onto it. "My favourite part..."

He didn't register the large grayish figure bounding into the room, the doctor following him barking a command, or the large hands on his head and chin coming up from behind him. He was too busy being perfectly, beautifully, flawlessly happy.

End notes(yeah there's a lot more than normal): -There is a direct prequel to this in a couple of days which explains how they got to this starting point! I did think about swapping the days over but I kind of like things being told out of order! -As for what happens afterwards, if you combine what Jet says to Was in Face The Mirror and Hauer's memories in Exposing a Heart that gives a good overview of it. -I had a strong idea for this ages ago based on the prompts but I've been struggling so much with getting into Theo's mindset for personal reasons. I only just managed to finish it last night! -Jet was originally going to die in this, Theo was going to open his brain right up, but the shared canon saved him. -Theo wasn't originally going to die right after this, the shared canon doomed him. -I also found it so hard to write the balance between Jet being overly trusting of and liking the attention from Theo and having some degree of "OK wtf this can't be right", but I think I did OK 😅

#human nature #sadistic by nature #oc: theodore kingswell #jet michaels #cptsadist

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islaytonlost · 2 years ago

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This is based on this post by @mystery-room not the fanfiction it links to because I could not get google translate to translate it on my laptop but if you can read it I reccomend giving it a go, it looks interesting.

Here's my take on it, I hope you enjoy.

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He’d woken up slowly, what the doctors had called a minimally conscious state, he’d been able to open his eyes for short periods of time and move his fingers. Alfendi didn’t remember this. He didn’t remember what Hilda had said to him while he was unconscious. He couldn’t remember his sister’s visits; he could only see the flowers that proved them. Some had been brought, some picked.

When Katrielle was a child she’d picked flowers out of people’s gardens, not understanding why it was bad, no matter how many times anyone explained it to her. He remembered her doctor phase, learning everything and anything she could about it and being delighted to hear that Florence Nightingale had recommended flowers. Katrielle had loved the idea and demanded flowers every time she got sick.

He regretted now not being for her last time that had happened. He’d been so busy on the case with Justin and Hilda he hadn’t found the time.

He should have.

Hilda had been there when he woke up, properly, when he’d sat up gasping. She’d looked delighted, about to hug him, hold him in her arms. Missed opportunities.

“I killed Keelan Makepeace.”

He could remember those words, echoing around in his head. He could remember them but not all the times Hilda had come to sit at his bedside.

The face Hilda made he would remember. He would never forget that. Even if he had forgotten everything else. It’d just been a blur of voices, all yelling, trying to get him to retract his statement but he’d held true to what he said. He had shot Keelan, he remembered clear as day. He wasn’t supposed to. He had meant to do it. He’d wanted to kill him.

Someone had gripped his shoulders and yelled, “this isnt you!” the nurse ushered them all out after that insisting Alfendi needed his rest. She kept giving him nervous looks though. It was understandable he had just accused himself of murder.

He’d been handcuffed to the bed before Katrielle arrived.

"Alfendi? What happened? They're saying you killed Keelan. I know you didn't tell me what happened."

"I'm sorry Katrielle ."

"What?" She backs away from the bed, shock in her eyes, "Alfendi?"

"I killed Keelan Makepeace." He'd been repeating it so much it sounded like he was just commenting on the weather. Well, sounded like someone else was commenting on the weather, Alfendi wasn't this calm, ever.

"No, not you. Alfendi would never kill anyone… Who are you?" Her raised voice didn't even make him flinch. He just sits there, accepting his fate.

Alfendi always fought, his fiery temper and stubborn nature meant that he rarely relaxed. He usually got fired up promising he was doing the right thing, that he'd catch the bad guy.

He did remember that. His calm demeanour surprised was because that hadn't worked out. He'd changed so he wouldn't hurt anyone. Hadn't he? Why else would he just be accepting his fate.

"I'm your brother."

"No!"

What? Why would Katrielle say that. He was her brother, he'd always been her brother, "I'm your brother." He repeats, house devoid of emotion, surely she just didn't understand.

"No!" She repeats louder.

Maybe he didn't understand, "very well," he accepts. Katrielle stared at him somehow this statement shocked her further.

"What have you done with my brother?"

"I don't know what you me-"

"BRING HIM BACK! YOU'RE NOT ALFENDI. BRING HIM BACK!"

A nurse rushes into the room and tries to soothe Katrielle . His sister doesn't fight her, only stares at Alfendi, tears streaming down her face.

When the real Alfendi, the murderer, had started whispering in his head he'd been so angry about Katrielle.

Why didn't you fight back? She wanted you to fight back! She wants her brother. Pathetic.

Maybe. His family had loved a murderer though and he wasn't about to lie about that. Even if it hurt.

#lmbr #layton brothers mystery room #fanfic #lmbr fic #alfendi layton #katrielle layton #Hilda Pertinax

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sissytobitch10seconds · 1 year ago

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Made a Family

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy Summary: Diego Hargreeves' daughter has been telling him all about her daycare class and begging him for a playdate with another one of the little girls. He can't deny her anything, even if it ends up being more than he agreed to. Warnings: Mentioned OC death, mentioned parental/partner loss, and canon-typical child abuse Word Count: 4,263 Ship(s): Diego Hargreeves/Lila Pitts, Diego Hargreeves & Viktor Hargreeves

Archive link!

A/N: I wrote this a long time ago and then put off posting it because I felt like it was too short and self-indulgent. I was having a discussion with one of my wonderful mutuals and they mentioned that they wanted more parent Viktor stuff, so I'm basically just posting this for them! @lovely-number-7 , I hope that you enjoy it lol. Stay sissy and bitchy everyone <3

Picking up Chrysanthemum from her daycare class was one of Diego’s favorite things to do. It didn’t matter how hard he had been working that day or how exhausted he was, he loved getting to see her little shining face looking up at him from the other side of the half-door that blocked him from the rest of the class.

Diego’s daughter had been born right as his life finished settling out in the new universe that he had been dumped in. He still felt guilty for leaving his siblings standing in that park in the middle of unfamiliar territory, especially after everything that they had done, but he didn’t regret it. Not when he got to see his beautiful girlfriend every day when they both returned home from work and got to hold Chrys in his arms. Lila and Chrys meant more to him than anything ever had before and he would never regret his decision to make sure that they were safe and well cared for.

He pulled up to the outside of the daycare, closing the door behind him. He tried to keep his gruff exterior, the one that kept the single parents away from him, plastered onto his face but it was incredibly hard when when was thinking about his little girl.

The foyer of the daycare center was a plain white room with four staircases, half going up and half going down on the wall opposite the door into the building. The two bottom ones were for the older kids (5-7 and 7+) and the top two were for the younger (1-3 and 3-5). To the left was the office where the parents could check their kids in and out and to the right was the kitchen where the meals were made.

Diego turned to go to the office so that he could check Chrys out and then go and collect her from her room. The check out process was quick because the secretary immediately recognized him and so was able to hand him the sheet where he signed to prove that it was him.

He walked as quickly as he thought appropriate so that he was standing on the landing on top of the right staircase that led to the toddler room. He stuck his head through the open top half of the door and then scanned around for his daughter. He always showed up right after naptime, so she was either groggy from just waking up or bouncing around because she had renewed energy.

The teacher was stacking the purple foam pads in the corner so that the kids could have the floor to play again. She caught sight of him and then smiled softly, “Chrys? Your dad’s here to pick you up!”

Immediately upon hearing those words, the aforementioned toddler’s head appeared from behind the low bookshelves. He knew that she had been playing with the Mega Bloks that the school kept. They were her favorite thing since she could make whatever she wanted without repercussion and she loved the bright colors.

“Daddy!” the little girl squealed. She raced around the bookshelf towards the half door as fast as her little legs would carry her.

As soon as she was in arm’s reach, Diego reached past the wooden barrier and scooped her up. She let out a shriek of excitement as she was whirled through the air and then down into her father’s arms. He securely tucked on of his arms underneath her thighs so that she wouldn’t fall if she were to lean too far back. “Hey flor pequeña,” he chuckled as he kissed her chubby cheeks.

Chrys let out a series of long winded giggles as she used her little hands to push his face away from her. “Daddy! Your beard is scratchy!”

He chuckled as he pulled away from her so that she was no longer under the barrage of kisses. He took the backpack that Chrys was sent to school with every day from the day care worker and slung it around his other shoulder. “Thank you,” he said politely. He turned around and began to carefully walk down the stairs while he asked his daughter, “How was class today?”

“Good! I got to play dollhouse with Luna,” she chirped, clapping her hands together to demonstrate how excited she was.

Diego got her out to the car and then fastened her seatbelt securely over her body so that she was tightly strapped into her carseat. He gave her another kiss on the top of her head to make sure that she knew she was loved before he got into the driver’s seat. He glanced back at her to continue the conversation while they started backing out of the parking lot. “I’m glad you got to play in the dollhouse, bebita.” He genuinely was happy for his daughter, he knew how desperately she had wanted to play with the huge dollhouse that the daycare center had set up.

“I got to play with Luna, Daddy! She’s my favorite” the four-year-old explained happily. Diego was grateful every day that his daughter didn’t have to suffer with the same speech impediment that he still struggled with to that day. He would have loved her just as fiercely if she had, but he wanted her to have an easy childhood, free of stress and worry.

“Yeah? Is Luna your best friend?” he asked, glancing back at her with the rearview mirror once more before he turned his attention back to the heavy post-school traffic.

“Mhm! Bestest bestest friend,” the little girl giggled. She reached over and grabbed the bag that her mother had helped her pack before daycare that morning. She removed the stuffy that she had brought with her today and grasped her tight. It was something that she always did when she wanted a hug but wasn’t in the right situation to get one. Diego and Lila had thought it up when they realized just how many long trips were going to be required from them for her job.

Back before their little girl had been born, Diego had considered going back to the Police Academy, but after what he had gone through when he was living in Dallas in the sixties he knew that he couldn’t. So instead, he went back to college and worked on becoming a swim coach and teacher. Lila already had a degree from when she was living with her mother, which had transferred into the new universe, so was putting it to good use as a specialist detective working for the government. That was the real reason that they had to travel around so often, because her job brought them all over the country so that she could examine crime scenes and pieces of evidence up close. They kept their roots down in The City, though.

He felt a small smile slip over his face as he thought about his daughter getting to have the childhood that Lila and Diego had desperately wanted for her. Neither of them got to have a normal childhood, with the exception of Lila before she was four, so they wanted Chrysanthemum to have it. She was already connecting with more children than either of them could have ever been allowed to and her interpersonal skills were flourishing. It had been a huge achievement for them both to get their daughter this far in life without giving her any massive trauma and seeing her develop well.

She was kind, compassionate, and the sweetest little girl that either of them had ever had the joy of meeting. Both of them were overflowing with pride for their daughter and felt so lucky that they got to call her theirs.

The entire time that they were driving through the crowded streets back to their apartment, Diego thought felt his heart swelling with pride and joy. He could hear Chrys singing to herself in the backseat whenever a song came on the radio that she enjoyed. It reminded him of Allison when they were younger, before that childhood innocence had been stamped out of her. It was normal, according to their pediatrician, for children to have some amount of echolalia because that was how they began to pick up on language. Seeing the trait that had been stamped out of his sister in his daughter made Diego miss Allison more than he had in the nearly five years since he had seen her.

That was the one thing that he wished he could change about his life. He and Lila had disappeared into the city so that they could start their family and create a steady life for Chrys before she was born. He had meant to try and reach out to his family so that his daughter could know her aunt and uncles, but then he just never had. He was happy with his family, even if he wished that it could have been bigger for the sake of his daughter if nothing else.

They pulled into the parking garage of the apartment where Diego and Lila lived. He found his reserved spot and then began to get Chrys out of her carseat. She was winding down from the excitement of daycare and was beginning to look a little sleepy like she did everyday when she came home from school. She had just been weaned off of having multiple naps a day but still went to bed fairly early in the evening.

“What do you want for dinner, bebita?” he asked as he shouldered the backpack a little easier and began to walk her towards the house.

“Can Mommy make chops?” she asked as she scrubbed at her eye with one of her little fists.

“I can ask her. I think she just finished one of her cases so she might be really tired when she comes home. Daddy can make you something else, though,” he offered.

She considered it for a moment before she gave him a half-shrug of agreement. “Can I have cheese and crackers for my snack?”

“Did you not get a snack from daycare?” Diego asked, brows furrowing together with worry. That had only happened once before, when the kitchen had an issue so they weren’t able to get any food up to the kids, but it had still upset him. Reginald withheld food from the kids several times when they were younger and he determined that they hadn’t done a good enough job in their training to earn the right of a snack or even a meal if they had been bad enough. The idea of his daughter going at all hungry made him furious.

“I did, but I’m still hungry,” she whined, leaning further against him. Her hand was still clenched tightly around the purple unicorn that she had pulled out of her backpack in the car.

Diego chuckled and kissed the top of her head. It was only when they had gotten into the elevator of the parking garage that would lead them up to the apartment building that he realized what was wrong about what he had just seen. “Where did you get this, bebita?” he asked as he reached down and touched the stuffy in her hand.

“Luna! We traded, which is why I brought one of the stuffies that’s not my favorite,” she explained, flushing slightly.

Diego resisted the urge to laugh at that. He knew that his daughter was deeply ashamed that she couldn’t love all of her toys exactly the same amount since she was worried that some of them would get sad when they realized that they weren’t her favorite. He thought that it was adorable and he was so proud of her for already having this much compassion and kindness when she was only four years old.

“I wish that you had told us that you were going to do that, sweetheart,” he reprimanded gently as he tucked some of her brown-black hair behind her ear. “Mommy and I need to know when you do things like that so that we don’t think anything’s lost.”

She listened to him and then nodded. “Sorry, Daddy. I’ll tell you next time, okay?”

“Thank you,” he kissed the edge of her forehead. They walked through the halls of the apartment building and then he set her down. Chrys immediately ran off so that she could unpack her bag. Diego set his own bag down on the dining room table and then removed his shoes so that they were resting beside the door. He got out a plastic plate from the cupboard and then set out some crackers and cheese slices for Chrys when she was finished unpacking her bag.

He turned on the television to the PBS kids channel that The City got as an initiative to have more widely available entertainment for lower income families. For the four years before Diego had graduated that’s what they had been since they were only getting income from Lila’s job in the government, and she wasn’t able to take as many jobs when Chrys was younger and needed to be minded more often.

He was sitting on the couch while grading some of his student’s papers, he was currently working as a health teacher for the sixth grade class of the local middle school, when Chrys suddenly turned to him. “Daddy, do you think that me and Luna could have a playdate?”

“Sure, but I’d have to talk to Luna’s parent or guardian about it first,” he nodded.

Chrysanthemum grinned. “She’s gonna talk about it with her dad tonight! Can I have a piece of paper with your phone number so that you guys can talk? It’s how Abby and Derek had their playdate since their parents are always super duper busy.”

“Okay, I’ll have Mommy send you with one tomorrow when she packs your morning backpack,” he smiled and ruffled her hair.

The child turned back to her snack and show, happy as a clam that she might get to spend time with her best friend outside of the daycare environment.

---

The next morning, Diego woke up at the normal time that his alarm clock went off. He went about his routine just like he always did without thinking that something might be off or strange about the day. He went on his mile long run (having toned it down from five miles when he had a screaming newborn in the house to exhaust him for about a year straight) and then took a shower. He was just about ready to make himself his normal breakfast when Lila burst out of their closet looking rumpled and upset.

“Is everything okay, mi corazón?” he asked, brows knitting together with worry.

She looked stressed for a moment before she answered, “I got called on another job. I know that I need to take Chrys to school because you have swim club today and need to grade your papers since you can’t do it in the afternoon but I really have to take this. We could get a loan for a house after this, Diego.”

He reached out and took her hands, bringing her out of the closet doorway so that she was against him. He brushed her hair, still styled like it had been when they first fell in love, away from her face. “I can take her to school today. The kids can wait to have their papers graded for another day. You know that they want to put off finding out their grades for as long as possible,” he chuckled.

The worry lines that had been creased around her face softened and she smiled back at him. “I just don’t want to be a shit mum.”

“You are anything but a shit mother, Lila,” he murmured as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. Worrying about whether or not they were going to be good parents was mostly what had destroyed their sleep schedule after Chrys was born since she was a fairly quiet and very sleepy newborn.

He gently kissed her on the lips and then said, “Pack up and get going so that you make your flight on time. When you’re settled down wherever they’re sending you this time, call us.”

“You’re the best husband that I could have asked for,” she grinned. She fisted his shirt and then pulled him down the few inches that he towered above her so that she could press a longer kiss to his lips.

The two then split apart and went their separate ways. Diego went to wake up their daughter and get her dressed for the day while Lila focused on packing her bag for the trip that she was going to have to make for work. Soon she was headed out the door, giving a kiss to both her husband and her daughter.

The rest of the morning was generally pleasant. Chrys always woke up kind of groggy but in a relatively good mood, having inherited Diego’s morning person attribute. She was overly excited once she actually woke up because she knew that today she was going to be at least one step closer to getting the playdate that she wanted with her best friend. She could barley sit still the entire time that Diego was trying to do her hair and help her get dressed.

Her bag was almost forgotten in her hurry to get out the door and to the daycare center. Diego still managed to remember it and included his number tucked into the frontmost pocket where nothing else was so that she wouldn’t forget it.

Lila was normally the one that dropped Chrys off at daycare since she worked later into the afternoon so wanted to spend more time with their daughter when and where she could. Diego had done it a couple of times before, in situations like this when Lila had been on trips. It still felt like his heart was breaking into a million pieces when his little girl wrapped her arms as tightly around his legs as she could for only a moment and then rushed off to climb the stairs all on her own to her daycare room.

It didn’t happen that day though, because the person that she was most excited to see that day was still standing in the foyer getting checked in by her parent. “Luna!” Chrysanthemum called as soon as the door opened far enough for her to see the other four-year-old.

The aforementioned little girl whirled around and met her friend with a big hug. “I missed you!”

“I missed you too! Did you ask your dad?” Chrys asked.

Diego was so focused on his daughter interacting with her best friend that he didn’t even notice the adult that was checking her in until he spoke up. “She did. If your parents said that it was okay and I can talk with them then we can get you guys on the road to having a playdate.” His voice was eerily familiar, but Diego couldn’t quite put his finger on it until he looked up and saw who it was.

He felt like all of the air had been stolen from his lungs. His brother looked very different than he had the last time the two of them had seen each other, but it had been about half a decade so he wasn’t surprised. “Viktor?” Diego breathed.

The man turned towards him, giving Diego a much better view of him. Viktor’s face shape had changed so that his cheekbones and jaw were a lot sharper. His muscle mass had shifted so that it was broader through the shoulders and less heavy on the hips. His chest was entirely flat instead of the small bump that had come with his binder back when they were Hotel Oblivion. The hair on his face had obviously been shaved off that morning, but Diego could still see the traces of stubble along his neck. The veins in his hands and arms were also a lot more prominent.

“Diego,” Viktor blinked. “I, uh, didn’t realize that you were still in The City.”

“There wasn’t really anywhere else for us to go what with,” he gestured down to where Chrys was pulling the note from the front of her backpack pocket to show Luna. He then turned his attention back up to Viktor as he spotted the baby sling over his chest and stomach. “You’ve got two kids?”

“Kind of a long story,” he nodded. “This is Nikolai, and then you’ve met my eldest.”

It was surreal to see that. Logically, he knew that something like this could happen. Before all three of the apocalypses that they had to fend off, Viktor had a life and a career that he obviously adored. It made sense that he would have jumped back into that when given the chance and even settled down to have a family.

“Listen, I have to go to work but do you want to catch up sometime? Maybe you can come over the first time that Luna and Chrys have a playdate,” Diego suggested.

“Yeah,” Viktor nodded. “We can do that.”

He then finished signing in his daughter and walked both of the little girls up to the room where they would stay for the rest of the day. Diego had signed Chrys in and then gone back to his car by the time that Viktor came back down.

---

The two brothers talked and not three days later, when the weekend had finally come, they were both sitting in Diego’s living room. Chrysanthemum and Luna were down the hall in her bedroom, playing with the myriad of toys that she had been vibrating with excitement at the idea of getting to show off. Viktor had Nikolai out of the carrier that he had brought him up in and was currently patting his back as he tried to soothe his cries.

Diego held his hands out to offer some help. Viktor seemed grateful for this, passing the three-month-old baby over to his brother. “Was Luna this fussy?” he asked as he shifted the baby around and began to bounce him. He had gotten very good at doing that while half asleep when his own daughter was this young.

“I wouldn’t know,” Viktor half shrugged. “I became Luna’s dad when she was eighteen months old.”

Diego knew that it was prying, but he couldn’t help himself. He hadn’t quite realized how starved he was for familial affection like he had gotten when they were all trying to stop the end of the world. He was desperate to become a part of Viktor’s life again and to know what had happened in his absence. “Oh? Did you adopt?”

“Sort of,” he sighed. “You know how I have the absolute worst luck when it come to romantic partners?”

Diego nodded and waited for him to continue. “Well after the whole reset of the universe I found out that all of my old stuff was there, minus what I blew up with my powers. It was like everything had stayed from before Harold showed up. So I just kind of picked up where I left off but I was standing up for myself and able to actually be a person instead of the husk that the medication made me be. I met someone who called themself Light. We got along great because we were both trans, and they had already had Luna. We ended up moving in together and becoming co-parents and we were kind of trying to take romance slow but then they got pregnant again with Nikolai. I was going to stick around and continue to help with the whole parenting thing but, um, they didn’t make it through the delivery. So now I’m a dad and I don’t have my partner.”

There were so many missing details that Diego was desperate to know, but Nikolai was only a couple of months old so the loss of this partner still had to be a fresh wound on Viktor’s heart. He chose to drop it instead of pushing forward. “You’re a good dad. Chrys is enamored with Luna, I think that they’re going to stay best friends forever or grow to resent each other.”

Viktor laughed at that, running a hand through the short locks on the front of his head. “I worry. I didn’t have anyone good to base my parenting off of from my life. I mean, Sissy and Light were both amazing parents but I hadn’t been around them for all that long. And I was learning alongside Light because they had aged out of the foster system so they didn’t have anyone to base their parenting off of either.”

“Lila and I worry too. It was really hard, the beginning couple of months. But eventually you kind of feel like you get some footing and you begin to gain confidence,” he reassured.

The two of them fell into an easy back and forth just like they had before the whole family had split up once again. They talked about parenting, what the other had been doing their time apart, and what they thought that their siblings were doing now that they were free in the world. It turned out that Five and Viktor were still very close, which wasn’t all that surprising, and Klaus would pop into his life every now and again. Slowly, Diego got the family that he had been hoping for since his daughter had first been placed into his arms.

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