#LOOK AT HIS LIL EXCITED HAND RAISE AND FIST | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hazbinshusk · 5 months ago

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blitzø x afab!fem!reader. locked away together in a jail cell leaves the two of you with limited entertainment; so what else are you supposed to do? an anon asked for a rewrite of the scene where blitzø meets moxxie with the reader instead, and I may have had a little too much fun with it. 2.6k featuring: oral sex, exhibitionism, vaginal sex, minor assplay, minor tail play, blitzø being a degrading lil bitch because that's how he expresses affection. imp reader.

“I swear to fucking Satan, B,” you spit as the slam of the cell doors echoes in your ears. How the plan Blitzø had convinced you once again to go along with had ended with the two of you thrown in a jail cell, you were still trying to wrap your brain around, but in the meantime, your plan was to stay pissed. “This is last time I listen to one of your stupid-ass schemes.”

“Why? I think you look good in orange.” Blitzø states in a tone of voice that suggests he might actually mean the compliment. There’s a beat that hangs between you before he flinches as you smack up the side of his head. “Ow! Skank!”

“Moron!”

“Bitch,” he bites back, and there’s a smirk playing at the edge of his lips despite the insult, his tail switching behind him playfully.

You raise a brow challengingly, fighting to keep your own expression impassive. “Cocksucker.”

“Still mad I do it better than you?”

You glare absolute daggers at him for a moment before you snort an unattractive laugh. Blitzø breaks into a wide, proud grin at the fact that he managed to break you first.

“I am not getting into this argument with you again, Blitzø,” you tell him. He opens his mouth to argue and you hold up a hand warningly. “We are not, repeat not, having a dick-sucking contest.”

“Coward.”

You roll your eyes and his smile widens further. You turn and wrap your fingers around the bars in front of you, your tail twitching behind you as the only outer show of your frustration. This is so not what you wanted to be doing tonight. “So… you got a plan on getting us out of here any time soon?”

“I’m workin’ on one,” Blitzø says defensively, and you sigh. The imp steps up beside you and you feel the spade of his tail brush against yours a few times before it wraps around it, stilling it. His hand smooths over your hip, and you feel his breath against the side of your neck. “So…”

You turn your head to look at him, an eyebrow raised. He’s watching you with lidded eyes, a teasing, suggestive smirk on his lips. You know that look, and despite your annoyance, you feel the first sparks of excitement flit through you.

“What d’you wanna do in the meantime?”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Holy, titty-fucking shit,” Blitzø moans as you take his cock deep into your throat, your tongue curling around the length of him as you swallowed around him. “I take it back… I take it back, you could suck the soul outta Satan himself with this mouth, fuck…”

You release him long enough to allow you to laugh, squeezing the base of him tauntingly and tapping the head of his cock against your tongue. “Can I get that in writing, baby?”

“Fuckin’ slut, you’re such a tease,” he growls, voice torn between irritation and pure affection, a punch-drunk smile on his face. Blitzø is backed up against the bars of the cell, one arm hooked through them to keep himself upright. The other hand is fisted in your hair, claws grazing wonderfully against your scalp. He groans as you take him back into your mouth, eyes rolling back as you bob your head in a steady pace, sucking noisily each time you withdrew. “Fuuuuck…

God, he is always so loud when you gave him head, so enthusiastic… and despite yourself, you can feel excitement pooling in your belly as you hear the effect his praise for you is having on the other occupied cells. You’d gotten plenty of heated looks on your way to your cell, and now, even though can’t see you, they were being treated to a hell of an aural show detailing just how good you were with your mouth.

You bring your free hand up palm his balls, squeezing them gently as you swirl your tongue around the head of him. You take him back in and Blitzø curses, the sound muffled slightly as he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip.

Part of you wonders if he’s getting off on being the one to have you within earshot of so many incarcerated men, if the ego stroke was adding to his already enthusiastic enjoyment of having you on your knees. He thrusts into your mouth, smirking widely as you gag loudly around him.

Someone catcalls from down the line, and Blitzø turns his head to yell over his shoulder and answers the question you hadn’t asked.

“Yeah, you wish you had a horny little bitch droolin’ all over your widdle baby cocks, don’t ya boys?” he calls out teasingly, eliciting a string of insults and ‘compliments’ from the other prisoners. He grins wickedly, snickering as he meets your gaze and you roll your eyes up at him, mouth still full. “Sorry to break it to you, fellas, but there ain’t no way you could handle a cock-hungry whore as good as – Christ, fuck!”

You had just slid your tongue slowly and firmly against his frenulum, and Blitzø’s hips jerk forward in surprise, his knees buckling. You move to pull away before he can slam his hips forward again in retaliation, but his hand moves down to ball in the hair at the nape of your neck to push you further down onto his cock.

Blitzø’s hand releases your hair, smoothing his palm down over your cheek in a rare, affectionate gesture. Those were usually saved for after your ill-fated hook-ups, for when both of you were so close to sleep that you could pretend it never happened.

“’Fraid to break your black hearts, boys…” His thumb brushes along your bottom lip as you suckle at the head of his cock. He gazes down at you with hooded eyes and a roguish little smirk even as he continues, “But she’s mine.”

Oh, shit that’s hot.

And suddenly you’re enjoying the attention from the others more than you were before.

…Not that you’d ever tell Blitzø that.

Of course, you don’t need to… the glint in the imp’s eyes tells you that he knows exactly what your audience is doing to you right now. Blitzø wraps his hand around your throat and you release him obediently, stroking him firmly a few times with your hand as he urges you back up onto your feet in front of him. His face is so close to yours, but when you move to kiss him, he squeezes your throat tighter. A whimper slips out of you, and you know from his expression that your excitement is just radiating off your face.

“Look at you,” he sneers, his tail wrapping itself around your wrist encouraging your hand to keep a slow, steady rhythm over his cock. You feel his free hand begin to drag the zipper of your jumpsuit down at a glacial pace. He’s usually so quick and to the point when undressing you, and the teasing pace he’s taking now makes you shiver. His eyes fall to watch your breasts rise and fall with a shaky breath as they’re revealed, wrapped and lifted in black lace. He hums his approval, and he’s still smirking when he meets your gaze again. “Look at how fuckin’ desperate you are to give these boys a show. Is that what you wanna do? Show ‘em just how fuckin’ good you can take it?”

Blitzø looks amused when you can’t answer, watching your lips part wordlessly. He kisses you hard, his tongue sliding into your mouth. He groans into it as you squeeze the base of his cock. His hand relaxes just enough as he breaks the kiss to finally let your respond, his eyebrow arched expectantly.

“Just fuck me, already…”

His grin widens and he snickers; then his mouth is on yours again is a sloppy, heated kiss that’s all tongue. He continues to tug your zipper down, the hand on your throat sliding down to cup your breast and squeeze. You help him shove the sleeves of your jumpsuit down off your arms before wrapping your arms around his neck. Blitzø’s claws graze your breasts, your stomach, your waist… pushing the jumpsuit down to hang around your thighs. His hand cups your cunt roughly and you moan into his mouth as his claw finds your clit through the lace.

“Heh. Always get so fuckin’ wet from suckin’ me off,” he praises, loud enough for the other to hear. “So slick and pretty when you’re hungry like this…”

“Blitzø, I swear to Satan, if you don’t—”

He grins wickedly at your frustration, taking hold of your hips and turning you around. You let out a little squeak of surprise when he presses you chest-first against the bars.

“Don’t want your audience to be disappointed, tits.” he tells you cockily, and you whimper as you feel his mouth on the side of your throat just as his fingers find your clit again. He’s pressed up against your back, his cock hard against the cleft of your ass. His teeth graze your pulse point, his tongue following them. “Gonna sing ‘em a song about just how fuckin’ good I fuck you.”

You roll your eyes even as you wrap your fingers around the bars in front of you and let Blitzø guide you into bending over in front of him. The movement makes his cock slide up between your thighs, and he lets out a sound somewhere between a groan and a snicker. He ruts it up against you, his cock sliding against your panty-covered cunt.

His tail curls around your calf, and you can’t help but moan aloud as he reaches down to push your underwear aside and fucks himself into you in one hard, brutal thrust. “Satan’s fuckin’ cock, you feel good…”

“Shit, Blitzø…” you tighten your fingers on the bars as he fucks you, claws digging into your hips hard enough to mark. He feels so good, the angle of his hips making your eyes roll back, and the intoxicating sound of his hips meeting your ass with each thrust fills the cell. “Harder.”

He growls as he does as you demand, his hand snaking around to play with your clit. He snickers as you jerk under the touch, his other hand leaving deep red lines over your thigh. You push back to meet his thrusts, your breath leaving you in a moaning gasp each time you do. You can still hear the catcalls of the other inmates but nothing really registers other than the way Blitzø feels inside you.

“Fuckin’ bitch, you feel so good…” he grunts, clutching at the curve of your ass. The spade of his tail replaces his fingers against your clit, both hands digging their claws into your ass. “You and your magic little cunt gonna drive me fuckin’ insane.”

You jump as you feel him spread your ass and spit, his thumb moving to spread saliva over your asshole. Your mouth is hanging open, your eyes rolled back, and your back arches as you feel him press his thumb into your ass.

“Fuuuuuck…” you whine, drawn out and keening, your body shuddering with the sheer amount of stimulation its receiving. Hoots and shouts rise up around you, and Blitzø groans as you tighten around him. “Fuck, please, Blitzø…”

“Please, what, baby?” he taunts, even as his own voice breaks. He presses his thumb deeper, tail spade quickening against your clit. “Tell the boys what you want from daddy.”

You’re too close now to even roll your eyes when he calls himself that, your jaw tightening for a moment before you gasp out, “Wanna cum…” he gives you a particularly hard thrust. “…I wanna cum for you, please…”

He rewards you by bending down to brush his lips over your spine. “Good girl.”

Then, he raises his voice again, calling out mockingly. “Hear that, fellas? Good little slut wants to cum all over my cock!”

You would have thought the noise would double at that but it lowers, and Blitzø chuckles wickedly.

“Guess they wanna hear the finale, sugartits. You gonna disappoint our fans?”

He angles his hips so his cock hits that sweet spot inside you and you whine, eyes shut. Then his free hand is wrapping your tail around it and squeezing the base and you cum, your orgasm making your legs shake and your voice break. Blitzø keeps fucking you until he’s filling you, cursing and praising you in the same, rough breaths. His hands wrap around your hips, holding you tightly against him, bottoming out inside your quivering pussy as he cums.

You stay locked together like that as you both catch your breath, his fingers smoothing over your hips and thighs. You can feel his cum leaking out of you even before he pulls out again, and you shudder as you feel him press another kiss to your back.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“You know, I’m not planning on being in-house entertainment here, Blitzø.” you say, laying back on the top bunk. You’d climbed up there soon after you’d caught your breath and the hollering of the other inmates had died down, and the other imp – ever the child – had insisted on following you up instead of taking the bottom bunk. It was cramped on the narrow mattress, the two of you laying side by side and staring up at the ceiling. Blitzø has one arm tucked nonchalantly beneath his head, and your eyes close as Blitzø other hand snakes inside your still-unzipped jumpsuit to circle your clit slowly. “…so, you better be working on that ‘plan’ of yours.”

“It’s formulatin’, don’t rush me.”

You raise a brow at him, breath hitching slightly at his touch. “You’re just enjoying yourself too much.”

“How dare you.” he gasps despite the hint of a smile touching his lips. “I’m just waiting for the little lynchpin we’re gonna need if we want to—”

He cuts off, hand snatching away from you as the cell door opens. Another imp is thrown unceremoniously into your cell before the bars slam closed again. Blitzø wiggles his eyebrows at you and you raise one of yours.

“So, what are you in for?”

There’s no reply, and you reach over and rezip Blitzø’s jumpsuit before he rolls over to look down into the other bunk. “Okay, not much of a talker, are we?”

“Be nice,” you mouth at him before he jumps down to the floor and launches himself into what you always refer to as his ‘salesman persona’.

“I’m Blitzø, the ‘o’ is silent. I’m sure we’re going to get along just fine.” he doesn’t even pause for breath. Or a response. You fix your own jumpsuit back into place. “So, what’s your deal? What’d you do? Who’d you diddle? You like someone good with a gun. You look like someone who could shoot up an office and I hope you are, ‘cause I got a plan to get us out of this dump, you, me, and the Grade A piece of ass up there.”

You roll your eyes and stick your head over the edge of the bunk, giving the other imp a little wave. “Hi, piece of ass, here.”

The imp gives you a small, watery smile, and Blitzø continues as though you hadn’t interrupted.

“…You think you can give us a hand? I need to get out to my daughter. The babysitter will kill me if I don’t get back soon. Do you like kids? ‘Cause lemme tell ‘ya. They’re a-fucking-dorable…”

#also shout out to blitzø being a helicopter parent who gets his 19 year old hellhound a babysitter #blitz #blitzo #blitzø #blitz x reader #blitzo x reader #blitzø x reader #my fic #blitz fic #blitz posting #helluva boss blitz #helluva boss #helluva boss fanfiction #helluva boss x reader #helluva boss blitzø

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finniestoncrane · 5 months ago

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Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, word count: 700 turns out i'm like... really into the idea of being his silly little pet so i wrote this teeny little ficlet for myself because i couldn't get it out of my head🤎 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: pet play, sub/dom dynamics

"You know, I had a dog once. Good friend. Loyal, smart."

Cooper looked up to you, his eyes only just visible under the brim of his hat. You sat on your heels on the floor, your entire body exposed, nude except for the collar he'd placed on you.

"I've been aching for something to take his place. Waiting all this time for a sweet lil' pup to come my way."

He ran the leather leash through his fingers, tugging at it gently, pulling the collar and you forward a little.

"And then, whaddaya know. I come across you."

Another quick, sharp tug, and you fell to all fours, crawling towards him slowly and settled at his feet.

"Now, you ain't no dog. But you are a little bitch."

You nodded eagerly, letting your tongue hang out from your mouth as you panted enthusiastically.

"And while you ain't as smart as my last pet, I am willing to forgive that. After all, you ain't exactly going to be serving the same purpose."

Cooper's hand settled on your cheek, running over it and swooping under your chin, fingers scratching at you as you smiled at the affection.

"He was there for comfort. Friendship. You're here to be used. You understand that, pup?"

With a soft bark, you nodded again, eager to please him. You stayed where you were, only turning to watch him as he stood up and walked over to the other side of the room.

"Come on over to me, girl. Bring your lead."

Stooping to the ground, you picked up the handle of the lead in your mouth and made your way to him, crawling over the dusty floor on all fours, completely bare, until you were once again at his feet. You watched patiently as Cooper reached into the inside pocket of his duster jacket, pulling out some jerky, miscellaneous meat from a less than credible source. he held it in front of him, dangling it above you.

"You want it? Then sit up for me."

You stretched your back out, kneeling still, arms raised up and out in front of you, hands balled into fists, makeshift paws, as you panted for him.

"Beg for it. Speak, girl."

You barked once, and Cooper tossed the jerky to the floor. As humiliating as it was, you knew what was coming. And he insisted on it, commanding you.

"Eat that off the ground. You ain't good enough to be hand fed, and I don't quite trust you not to bite the hand that feeds. Not yet anyway."

Bending once more, you picked up the jerky and chewed on it thoroughly before swallowing it, looking up at Cooper the entire time to make sure that even that act was done to his satisfaction. And when you were finished, you let your tongue fall back out to prove it to him, a playful pant and a cautious smile as you waited for his next instructions.

"Now, do you think you can roll over for me, pup?"

Ever keen to please, and quick to obey, you rolled over immediately, suppressing the shudder in your spine as your bare back touched the cold floor. You raised your legs, bent at the knee, and your arms, hands balled into fists again to mimic your paws. As Cooper took you in, you stretched your legs for him, spreading them apart to expose your wet cunt, folds splayed for him to see every bit of you.

Cooper stretched his leg out, pressing the tip of his boot to your cunt, the pointed toe pushing on your clit. As he wiggled his foot from side to side, you could feel the familiar pulse of pleasure through the degrading pain, a throbbing ache that spread to your stomach, to all of your muscles, as you lay there for him. He took his boot off of you, the sole coated in your slick, and he smiled.

"That's it. Good girl."

His voice was low and slow on the 'good'. Emphasising his satisfaction with you. You felt yourself getting excited, hips wiggling, knowing if you had a tail it would be going wild.

#fallout #fallout amazon #x reader #finnie writes #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout fic #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard fanfiction #cooper howard one shot #cooper howard smut #cooper howard imagine #fallout tv #fallout tv series #walton goggins #cooper howard x fem!reader

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fanficwriterlover · 1 year ago

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My Choice Our Consequence

Chapter 2 (Part 2) Big News to All

Summary: You called your friend Gaz, and want to catch up with him and obviously explain your absence, maybe even hear how the other members of the taskforce are doing. You miss them, but you're adjusting to the life of being pregnant...it's just the weight of your child (besides heaviness) father lingers in the back of your mind...how will you ever tell Ghost ?

Expectations: Mentions of SA, Assault, Cursing, Victimizing, Narcissistic behavior, manipulation, Stalking, Smoking, Drinking, etc..(Let me know if I miss anything)

Call Sign: Hera or Lil Light

Word Count : 4.3k (Sorry it's short gotta keep a good cliffhanger)

A03 Version

Your Home at 10:00 AM

Gaz now stands in front of your door, he had showered, dressed in his civilian clothes and ran to grab your favorite pastry; scones. He wasn’t sure what to expect behind the door, in fact he was terrified, he was scared to see your light diminishing due to depression or maybe an illness. It was something he always loved about you. You lit up the room. It was something Soap and him always brought up how it seemed to brighten whenever you enter. You left a hole in the taskforce and everyone knew it. Reluctantly he raised his fist and gently knocked on the door. Shifting his weight on his feet, he took in the smells from outside, it was a cozy complex for sure. You obviously made more money than him. He then heard the doorknob began to rattle snapping his attention to the door where he saw YOU standing there.

He must’ve been holding his breath, because when he release the cool air of the fall autumn took it away. There you were standing with the door cracked peeking your head out. You haven’t changed. The smile adorning your face made him want to melt, you still were just as bright from the last time he saw you. Yet you looked different…almost mature different. You were wearing a black button accent, with long sleeve. It looked almost like a dress but stopped short of your thighs, where it was covered by some jeans that snug nicely. And a cute black slip on van shoes. Seeing you in civilian clothes was different, however, it suited you. You hair was done up in a messy bun, with strands coming down the sides of your forehead and cheek. You were still stunning.

“Gaz !” you say softly yet excited. “Hey doll, wow so this where you been hiding. You’re not even far from our base !” he huffs in disbelief, to think it probably wouldn’t have taken long to run into you from the base yet here you were. When you opened the door wider you encouraged him to come in which he did. For the life of him he couldn’t see what could possibly be wrong with you to resign from the taskforce, you seemed perfectly healthy and well normal, so why ? “Gaz is that…” he stood there confused as he waited for you to finish your sentence. “Is that scones I smell ? “ your eyes widen with glee, as he then remembers he collected you some that were in his arms. He chuckles “Yeah, I come bearing gifts.” You laugh softly encouraging him in “Come in” he steps through the door as you take the scones from him, walking into the kitchen. Your place is definitely more cozier than he anticipated, it also seemed well….tidy. But something else about it that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Stepping into the living room, the couch was facing where the tv was, with a fire place in the corner that was lit, it kept the room warm even though the house itself seemed well insulated. There were pictures of you adorning the mantle over the fireplace, with a women, your mother from the looks of it. She looked like you. You shouted from the kitchen “Earl grey tea I take ? “ he responds back loud enough for you to hear, “You remember well y/n” he laughs softly taking in the room. Before hearing your steps walk back into the room. You outstretch your hand to give his cup, which he takes. After which you began to sit down onto the couch, a bit carefully too he noticed. Odd. Seemed like you were physically struggling to sit, yet walked fine. “Come sit Gaz, I can see questions running through your forehead” you snort at this then began blowing into your cup, with the steam blowing in front of your face. He chuckles at that. “Quit bloody reading me yeah ?” he takes his seat on the other end of the couch from you holding the cup.

Your POV

For a while the silence and the acknowledging each other’s presence was nice. It was hard to believe he was in your living room. You missed him. You missed all the lads of 141. Yet you knew he had questions especially your reason for disappearing. You set your cup down, onto the coffee table that was a bit more pushed away than needed “I know you’re wondering why I resigned…and why I didn’t say goodbye.” You say this with your gaze away from him, your knees tucked under you as you had your elbow on the back of the couch, your hand holding your head.

Sleeping has become a bit of a challenge for your but obviously Gaz was unaware of your current predicament. You purposely picked this top to hide your bump, not in shame, okay maybe a little but not the reason of choice. No just to not rush to the topic immediately when you greeted him at the door. He seems to look at you from the side where he was seated on the couch, almost seeming to be curious what the answer is. You sigh softly, here goes nothing… “I left because I found out I was pregnant Gaz.” His eye blow wide open nearly sputtering his tea, but instead chokes it down as you pat him on the back. He waves his hand vigorously almost ensuring you he’s fine. When he clears his throat after his heaving stopped, “You wha’” his eyes immediately follow where your hand placement moves to. You show the curve of your bump. Your black top hid it perfectly, that smoothing it down more only made the bump more pronounced.

Gaz POV

The moment you smoothed down your top, his eyes went wide. You had a protruding belly and how the hell did he not notice it. You barely changed. But that explains a LOT. The place was so tidy and everything seemed harmless. It was because the place was practically baby proofed. The edges of the tables were rounded. The fireplace had a gate pushed away so no toddler could touch the heated grates. Everything was made safe for a baby to be welcomed into the place. Also the soft carpets adorning the living room, dining, and he’s certain other places of the home were made to ensure the baby wouldn’t crawl on hard wooded flooring. Every little detail Gaz began to understand why the place was done such. His mind was now settling with this revelation but now “I see now…well, wow congratulations.” He laughs out softly leaning forward hugging you gently, making sure to avoid your bump and not squeeze you hard. “Thank you Gaz…it’s something. Adjusting to sleeping is harder than I thought. No one warned me about the need to use the lute more though.” You laugh a bit now rubbing your stomach in a soothing habit. He watches you intently, you seemed happy with this so it made him happy for you but “Whose the dad ? If you resigned then…does that mean it was someone from base?” He cocks his brow at you, which you were blushing heavily biting your lip “Oh yeah..that so happens to be…Lieutenant Ghost..”Your eyes avoid his when you mumbled the last words lowly and quickly through gritted teeth. Yet, Gaz was frowning trying to figure out if he heard you right. “Um..I’m sorry did you just say Lt ?” he surely heard you wrong…surely ? But you seemed to play with your hair now shifting a bit in your spot as his eyes shot wide “Lt ?! The Ghost ?!” You blush more “Shout a little louder would you…I don’t think he heard you from the base” you snort as Gaz looks at you directly. “Bloody hell Hera…” he shakes his head “I don’t even want to know when and where but damn…” he huffs looking at you “Does he know ?” tilting his head leaning forward with his elbows on his knees “Mmm…no…” Wow…he was stunned. He was expecting anyone anyone…but the Lieutenant ? Why didn’t you tell the Lt, about his soon to be kid ? Why did you leave without an explanation or bye ? More questions seem to run through his mind but seeing you rub your belly tenderly, you seemed content “Well…wow…you ever plan to tell him ?” you keep stroking your stomach, he was beginning to catch on that it was to calm you not the baby as you sigh softly before answering “I do…just I don’t know how to go about it you know ? It’s scary...we are talking about Ghost here.” Gaz nods his head slowly. Well he found it more hard to believe you even slept with him since you're heavily pregnant so obviously he must’ve been gentle enough unless…”He didn’t…um...” your eyes widen shaking your head “Oh gods no ! Ghost and I…well we both consented. Just didn’t plan this.” You point at your stomach indicating this wasn’t a part of it as he nods his head. He decided this topic wasn’t going to make it better and decided to change the subject. “Do you knoew if it’s a girl or boy yet ?” you seem to be grateful for the change in subject smiling softly “Yeah…it’s a boy.” Your eyes seem to soften, seems like the idea of a little boy running around melted you. He was happy for you. “Wow…a little Ghost. So if he doesn’t get your looks I’ll know what Ghost looks like.” He smirks at his joke as you playfully punch him in the arm, laughing. “Oh shut up !” the two of you seem to drift into more lighter topics.

Gaz enjoyed hearing about your ultrasound visits, your lifestyle, and excitement to be a mom. You even gave him a picture of the recent ultrasound that was the day it confirmed your son’s gender. Even now the baby was in almost full form, it was amazing to think you would be birthing a little bundle into this earth and you were leaving the harsh lifestyle of the dark world. It was always something you guys would talk about whether you all would ever have a life outside the military or even settle down and start a family. Looking at Price it seemed like they all would be going down that road of never ending fighting. But seeing you, actually living a mundane life. He envied you, yet he wasn’t ready to stop fighting. There was much to get done and with the Intel his team were gathering he sure as hell wasn’t ready to stop fighting.

Eventually it became late, he needed to get back to base, which you understood, you had made him a hearty meal and the two of you simply enjoyed catching up. Of course you didn’t pry into his mission only asking about his improvements and asking about everyone else. Yet even as he stands outside your door you give him one final hug as he smiles “Keep in contact aight ? No going off the radar doll. I want to see my godson too” He laughs softly as you smile at him “Got yourself a deal Kyle. Be safe out there. Keep fighting the good fight.” You nod your head at him as he smiles “Yes ma’am” with that he makes his way to his car, getting in and driving off. Except what you didn’t know was Gaz was going back to the old base where he knew Soap would be returning as well as Price. He had already sent messages to both Soap and Price wondering if they were headed to base which they both replied yes, to which Gaz was going to share the news of you to them. And hopefully find Ghost too.

Pulling up into based, and getting approved after showing his ID, Gaz parks his car in the garage getting out as he makes his way to the lounge room. It’s been a while since he been here but he was happy to be reuniting with the gang. As he glances down at his phone that was buzzing in his pocket he wasn’t aware of anyone until he heard a loud familiar Scottish voice “Aye ! Gaz ! You bloody arse the fuck you been lad ?” He was striding towards him as Gaz snorts. They bump fists then clasping and bringing it into the chest to pat each other’s back. “Good seeing you too mate. Price here ?” With that he hears the all so familiar Liverpool accent echo through the garage “Was wondering when you turn up son.” Gaz smiles as Soap steps back, with Price taking out his hand to shake “Good seeing you too Cap, glad the gangs all here.” He pats his shoulder as the three men make their way to the lounge.

Once they settle Gaz, Soap, and Price had been drinking already, Ghost hadn't shown up yet. The three were already catching up by the time Ghost show up, with that Gaz and Soap were already drunk with Price taking slower sips from his bourbon. Ghost takes in the sight of the gang all together simply silently seating himself into a chair, sitting down with his arms crossed listening to both of them ramble through a drunken state. However, things seem to escalate quickly when Gaz speaks loudly “Oh yeah ! I saw Hera today !” he smiles giddily. With that the room becomes deadly silent. Price seems surprised by this, Soap is utterly shocked, and Ghost well, he was just as both but did better at hiding it. Remaining unmoved as Soap spoke up “What ?! Bonnie alive ?! Why wasn’t invited ! How is the lass ?” he seemed eager to know setting his bottle of beer down to hear. Price simply takes a drag from one of his cigars listening intently “She’s good. She actually the one to reach out to me and invite me over. Her place is cozy.” He smiles proudly, obviously in his drunken state to admit he seen your home.

Ghost POV

This makes Ghost squint his eyes hearing that Gaz was able to know where you live. When he gets the chance he plans to get the address from him soon. He wants to know where you are. Maybe convince you to return. Yet, Gaz continues, “Oh yeah, and she’s expecting soon! Almost forgot. She sent me home with the ultrasound of my godson.” Ghost head nearly whips in his direction, as he happened to have been looking elsewhere for a brief moment before hearing this revelation. His eyes nearly widen by this news. The first time he breaks the silence “What.” He sounded angry which made everyone look in his direction but he remained neutral not daring to show his anger. Yet, he couldn’t help but notice a hint of Price’s features shift. Gaz continues as he fumbles into his pocket pulling out the picture handling it to Soap who sat closest to him “Oh shit ! Look at that bugger ! Wow didn’t think she’d settle down. How far along is she anyways ?” You’re pregnant…so…did that mean you resigned to live a more mundane life ? No impossible you wouldn’t have been allowed to knowing about an upcoming mission. Yet, still no one would’ve approved of your resignation without a medical reason so did that mean…Gaz spoke up once again, with Price walking over to glance at the pictures. “Well…not exactly settle down but yeah ! She’s 21 weeks so far ! She’s excited…” that’s when any other words coming out of Gaz’s mouth were dulled out.

That long…that’s how long you nearly left the base…did that mean ? No…impossible. You said you were on the pill. Fuckin’ ‘ell I need a smoke… with that Ghost abruptly stood up walking out of the lounge Soap and Gaz were too busy looking at the pictures in the moment, yet Price noticed. He took the moment to leave after Ghost knowing exactly where he’d be going as he left the two on the couch. Making his way down the hall Price went up to the roof where he knew Ghost would be, of course smoking a cigarette. He didn’t care Price followed him. He knew it was him, he gotten accustomed to everyone’s footfalls so hearing his didn’t surprise him. Ghost was leaning against the railing silently smoking, taking slow drags from his cigarette as Price did the same with his cigar. He then broke the silence but Ghost didn’t dare to seem bothered. “So…how are you holding up Simon ?” he grumbles at the use of his name stealing a glare in Price’s direction. “I figured.” He says with a heavy sigh puffing out from the drag as Ghost continued to do the same. The men stood silent continuing to drag on their cigars, until Price once again spoke “I know you’re wondering why she resigned…and Ill be honest-” he sighs again rubbing the back of his neck making it crack “I played a hand in the idea…however I wasn’t aware she would do it so soon. I didn’t sign the approval though. I know you been questioning that.” Which was true. Ghost did. It was either himself, Price or…”Laswell…she signed it off. Found out after she left of course. She wanted to make it as discreet as possible.” He huffs a bit with Ghost standing still, only listening but flicking at the end of the cigarette “Did you know ?” he says lowly not daring to look in Price’s direction, a part of him already knew the answer yet he wanted to hear it. “Mmm. She made me swear I not tell until she was ready to share.” Of course…why would you share with him ? He disrespected you and made you feel pain. God, you were pregnant then too, you probably was emotional. Fuck…now things were adding up. How tired you were, sickness, fainting, everything…yet Price once more snapped him out of his mind as he slipped him a paper holding it out to him to take. Which he did looking at it, which made him freeze…it was your address and phone number. “Call her…you two obviously have lot to catch up on. And quite honestly I know about your little scolding to her.” This made Ghost flinch…all this time he knew… “I don’t think she’s mad at you Simon…but you two need to patch it up so you can get your head in the game for the upcoming mission.”

With those words…Price puts out his cigar, that seemed to have had enough and walks away. Ghost looks at the slip of paper for the longest time. Should he call you ? Should he go to your house ? No…you’d probably freak out if he stood at your door. Would your boyfriend answer instead of you ? Fuck..he hated that idea. Did you know who the baby’s father is ? He stomped his cigarette out putting the piece of paper into his jacket pocket before making his way to his bunker. He has a lot to consider…he just didn’t know how to go about it. Surely worse that would happen is you tell him off.

A Week Later

He finally gave in…his car parked down the street from your place. All this time you lived not entirely far from base. This whole time you left him in a turmoil of his mind wondering if you left because of him and quit because you thought you would never be good enough. Ghost came to you place every day since he found out. But every time he just sat in his car looking at your home that barely showed any life forms. He wondered if you were even there. Or maybe he got the wrong place. Well guess you wouldn’t do much moving being pregnant…and fuck the idea you’re pregnant. Gaz mentioned your mother and Uncle were taking care of you which set him mind a little relief especially cause he did a bit of digging himself finding out your uncle was in the air force. A commander no less. No father image though. Did he die perhaps ? Yet movement caught his attention, and his eyes widen.

It was you. You were in a beige fleece button top, long denim tights and slippers. Your hair was longer, more smoother in a tight ponytail. He probably wouldn’t have recognized you honestly, he’s so used to seeing you in military attire and always having your hair in a tight bun. So seeing you, relaxed was different. You make you way down the steps and that’s when he can see it…from the angle it’s not hard to miss. Your protruding belly, it’s not full but it’s definitely sign of growth. The baby from the ultrasound. When Gaz and Soap were passed out on the couch, he took the liberty to steal a glance at the photos, usually he wouldn’t care but since it was you, it was a part of you he couldn’t resist. Seeing your name and last name with the date and details of the fetus made the whole thing more reality.

You were walking down the steps grabbing the mail, as you were scanning each one carefully. He had already got himself out of the car, standing across the street behind a tree well hidden, he couldn’t resist. Was it wrong? Yes. Shamefully so,yet he honed his skills in stealth and hiding from enemies he had to do it in order to just see you. Yet, it was cut short as a man was jogging into your direction. He was a in a long tight sleeve top, with short pants, and running sneakers, From Ghost’s observation he was fit, not nearly as tall as him of course. Staning roughly at 5’11”. He had dark brownish hair with hints of red tint. He stops short in front of you and he could hear him call your name. You look in the man’s direction. Then…slowly appearing onto your face…you fucking smiled.

The fuck…who is that ? And to make it worse…when the man leaned in to hug, you hugged him back. There seemed to be a hint of awkwardness during the embrace which he couldn’t tell if due to your stomach or uncomfortableness with the man. Who the hell is that man ? Ghost was now clenching his fists, glaring daggers into the unknown man’s way. Just seeing the two fo you socializing made him furious. However that’s when things got worse. The man reached to gently touch you on the arm. Now Ghost had a keen eye and was exceptionally good at reading body language. You immediately were showing subtle signs of being uncomfortable, while you two were engaged in a conversation. Yet even when you shrugged your arm to rid the man’s hand from contact he wouldn’t bug off. Now Ghost was even more on edge, in most cases he would’ve trusted you to handle the situation, however, you’re now pregnant. Which definitely limits your once athletic quick abilities to fend for yourself. Even now he can see you start to pull away, you body moving back towards your home. For anyone, that’s a clear sign you’re uncomfortable and want to be left alone, but the man didn’t relent. This was now pissing Ghost off more.

You POV

When your neighbor Michael came running towards you, you immediately groaned inwardly. Apparently he was the kind of man who thinks all women would fall for him. Perhaps when you were naïve and not knocked up he might’ve seemed somewhat attractive, but boy was his ego annoying. You tried to remain pleasant through the interaction but now you were uncomfortable. He was too pushy. From hugging you, which you didn’t like, he reeked of sweat and made you want to throw up. You hated the close proximity, yet even when trying to withdraw yourself he didn’t care. He was too pushy. Asking to take you out and asking why someone like yourself was pregnant alone. It was creepy, he tried touching you more than once and even going as far to proclaim he’d never leave you if he knew he was the father. Maybe to some women they would’ve felt swooned over, but not to you. It was disgusting. You knew him, he had women coming in and out of his place constantly. The man dated women like the next best phone. He was definitely a red flag “Oh I can’t��sorry…sickness you know. Good chatting-” but oh now the minute you tried to walk back to your door he’s grabbing your arm standing in front of you, as if blocking your way to heading back into your home.

“Woah, you’re making it seem like I’m a bad guy ?! What’s the rush…I’m just offering you a good time.” He seemed more agitated and you were getting nervous with annoyed. “I told you…I’m not interested I-” he huffs “What is it going to take you to accept ?” He was a man who can’t handle rejection. The idea that you were rejecting him obviously made him more furious and was damaging his ego. You spoke through gritted teeth, yet tried to remain composed, “Nothing…now please let go of my arm. Now” Your eyes were blazing, you were pissed and uncomfortable. You were warning the man now. Yet what you didn’t expect was him to snap back “God you’re such a bitch. I’m just trying to be a decent man show you a good time…I get being pregnant makes you moody but damn y/n I just just wanted to show you a good time.” He glares at you, “You’re acting like I’m attacking you ! You’re overreacting !” now you were worried…but before you could say anything you saw Michael’s eyes shift to behind you, eyes widen, it was quick. His grip was roughly removed and you felt a warm looming figure behind you. But most of all, you heard a familiar deep angry British voice say roughly “Hands off” it spoke with authority, one you heard countless times through comms or when training. That’s when your eyes trailed up to look behind where you saw…

Ghost

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vendettaspathfanfic · 4 months ago

Text

Chapter Eight

(Chapter Index)

(Previous)

(Next)

I have a lil surprise for y’all! From me and… someone else ;3

“That was fucking cool ass!” Toxic's jubilant declaration reverberated through the vehicle as she thrust her fists triumphantly into the air.

“Where do you even get these word combinations?” Scourge groaned, his grimace displaying his annoyance at Toxic's strange attempts at swearing.

“She’s right-might-bite! That was fucking cool ass!” Flying's exuberant cheer filled the air, his own excitement matching Toxic's as he pumped his fist energetically.

“Well, don’t get too comfortable,” Fiona interjected, her tone a sobering reminder amidst the buzzing atmosphere, “no doubt there's a huge bounty on this car, and someone at a mod shop could report it, or hell, someone could report us on the way.”

“So we’re dumping it?” Lightning inquired, his features relaxing as he pulled off his mask.

“Yup,” Fiona affirmed, mirroring Lightning's actions as she too removed her mask, taking a moment to readjust her hair, “I expected as much, honestly.”

“That sucks,” Scourge lamented with a hint of disappointment, his eyes rolling as he took off his mask, savoring the sensation of freedom as the cool air brushed against his quills.

“Don’t forget, baby, we'll be back on our thrones in no time,” Fiona reminded her lover, a note of reassurance in her voice as she raised a finger in emphasis.

“Oh yeah,” Scourge conceded with a grin, his gaze shifting to Toxic, his next words laden with a hint of nostalgia, “you won’t believe what it’s like being on the throne, kid. Cars, food, money, anything you want at the snap of your fingers.”

“I get, um, a throne?” Toxic's hopeful inquiry hung in the air, her eyes wide with wonder at the prospect.

“Well…” Scourge began tentatively, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features, “if you're my sister and I'm the king, then you're the princess. I guess you get a throne...”

“I wanna be the king,” Toxic asserted, crossing her arms.

“Tough,” Scourge retorted, a smirk playing on his lips as he retrieved a cigarette, the flame from his lighter casting a fleeting glow on his face as he took a drag.

"Alright guys," Fiona's voice cut through the chatter, her gaze shifting towards a hopping brightly-lit nightclub they passed by, "looks like that club's busy tonight. Lightning, Predator, go in there and grab..." Her brow furrowed as she hummed in thought, a hint of mischief glinting in her eyes, "like, 3 car keys from some drunken jackasses. After that, we gather our belongings, ditch this vehicle, and each take a different route home. All clear?"

After receiving a collective “yes ma’am” in response, Lightning and Predator smoothly exited the now-parked vehicle and made their way into the vibrant nightclub. In the dimly lit chaos of the club, they deftly relieved various inebriated revelers of their car keys without raising a single eyebrow. They swiftly rejoined their team outside, the metallic jangle of the ill-gotten keys echoing through the alley in which the SUV was parked.

Activating the locator buttons, they discovered they had acquired two sedans and a jeep - not luxury vehicles by any means, but perfectly suited to their immediate requirements. With their newfound assets in hand, the team efficiently redistributed the contents and occupants of the SUV, preparing to load up the newly acquired vehicles for their next move.

“Fiona and Toxic are with me,” Scourge announced decisively, standing by the red sedan he had selected, his posture exuding confidence. “Predator and Lightning, take a car, and Flying and Simon will likely opt for the jeep.”

“Where else can ya fit a jolly brown giant, eh, Simon?” Flying quipped, nudging Simon playfully, the latter responding with a resigned eye roll as he stood with his arms crossed.

“I wanna go with Simon!” Toxic's protest carried over as she hurried to him, her enthusiasm evident.

“They only got a two-seater, short stack,” Fiona interjected, her arms crossed as she leaned against the car, a hint of impatience creeping into her voice.

“Well, I can always hang with fuzzy and birdie!” Flying chimed in, bounding over to join Lightning and Predator, the latter struggling to conceal his irritation as a subtle twitch of his brow betrayed his composure.

“Your call, man,” Scourge addressed Simon, a nonchalant shrug accompanying his words. “You want this thing?” His gaze flickered disdainfully towards his sister.

Simon expressed his indifference with a dismissive shrug, muttering, "I don't care," before he offered a steadying hand to Toxic, who was clambering up into the rugged jeep. "Buckle up," he instructed firmly, "And take off your mask. Everyone else has already taken theirs off."

"No fuckshitty way. It looks cool," she retorted, stubbornly adjusting the seat belt across her chest.

Simon, under his breath, murmured a gruff, "I don't have time for this." Without waiting for her compliance, he reached over and stripped away the balaclava from Toxic's head in one smooth gesture, despite her immediate objections. "We'll attract the wrong kind of attention with these on," he explained, his tone brooking no argument.

Meanwhile, Scourge stood a little distance away, surveying the group with a casual eye. "Alright, see you guys back there," he called out, his voice carrying an air of finality as he slid behind the wheel of his own vehicle.

With a collective purr of engines, the group dispersed, each taking their separate paths, winding their way back home through the less traveled roads.

During the drive, Toxic became a whirlwind of chatter beside him, excitedly recounting every moment of their recent heist. She embellished the tale with animated sound effects and poorly done impressions, eager to relive the wild journey.

Simon, slightly exasperated, responded with noncommittal hums of "Mhm," and, in a quest for some auditory respite, he reached out and turned on the radio. He hoped the music would serve as a gentle distraction and perhaps encourage Toxic to quiet down.

Undeterred, Toxic continued her enthusiastic reenactment, eventually pausing to ask, "What was your favorite part?" Her foot tapped along to the rhythm of a song now playing, her energy undimmed.

"Dunno," Simon replied, his voice barely above a whisper as he maintained his focus on driving through a dilapidated shopping district. The flickering neon signs were caked with layers of dirt, the road was a minefield of potholes, and the omnipresent litter added a final touch to the atmosphere of neglect.

Contrary to Simon, the disarray didn’t seem to deter Toxic. Her attention was captured by a small, rundown diner. "I wanna eat there," she announced abruptly, pointing with determination toward the diner's partially illuminated sign.

Simon cast a skeptical eye at the establishment, his nose scrunching in distaste. "There? With all the money we have?" he questioned, the incredulity evident in his voice.

Toxic's enthusiasm was undeterred. "Yeah!" she squealed, nodding vigorously as her stomach offered a timely rumble of agreement.

Feeling the gnaw of hunger himself, he conceded with a resigned exhale. "Ok," he acquiesced, guiding the jeep to a stop beside the diner, parking it behind a solitary motorcycle.

Toxic's eyes danced with new interest. "Can I drive that?" she inquired, gesturing toward the motorcycle with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Nope," Simon answered, his response immediate and unyielding as he stepped out of the jeep. He extended a hand to help Toxic down and escorted her toward the diner's entrance, the neon glow of its sign washing over them in flickers.

Shockingly, the desolate ambiance and lackluster staff of the grungy diner failed to entice anyone to linger late into the night — except for a solitary figure. Seated at the counter, a tall polar bear woman clutched a beer bottle in one hand, her attention fixed on a news report detailing a recent bank robbery and ensuing police chase that had unfolded in the city, leaving a trail of casualties in its wake.

In a moment of recognition, Toxic's gasp pierced the quiet of the diner as she pointed animatedly at the screen, her eyes widening in shock. Before she could cause further commotion, Simon swiftly swept her up into his arms, his voice a harsh whisper as he admonished, "no!"

The sudden disturbance drew the attention of the polar bear woman, prompting her to shift her gaze towards the pair. Locking eyes with Toxic, she offered a gentle smile in response to the child's unflinching stare, her attention drawn to the vivid cyan glow emanating from her cybernetic eye, framed by intricate silver steel and peeking out from beneath her tousled white hair.

Known for their straightforward nature, children often possess a unique candor. Toxic, however, excelled in this aspect. True to form, she exhibited her unfiltered curiosity by bluntly pointing at the woman's cybernetic eye and posing the question, "What the hell happened to your eye?"

“Toxic!” Simon hissed, catching the young girl off guard and prompting a sheepish pause in her inquiry.

Rather than taking offense, the woman responded with a light chuckle, shaking her head with a hint of amusement as she turned her body to face the duo.

"Ah, this eye?" she began, gesturing to the eye in question, "it fell out because I didn't eat enough veggies."

Toxic's reaction was immediate, her skepticism palpable as she scoffed and shook her head in disbelief. "What a load of bullshit," she groaned, unimpressed by the explanation offered.

This caused Ursula to erupt in laughter, spitting her beer onto the floor as she doubled over, clutching her stomach in mirth. It took her a full minute to regain her composure, her laughter echoing through the dimly lit diner.

Amidst her amusement, Ursula managed to compose herself enough to address Toxic. "Oh," she chuckled, wiping away tears of laughter, "yer a spunky little gal. Toxic, right?"

With a nonchalant shrug, Toxic confirmed, "Yeah.”.

With a warm smile, the woman extended her large hand for a fist bump, which Toxic eagerly reciprocated. "I'm Ursula," she said, her laughter still evident in her voice.

Impressed by Ursula's style, Toxic surprisingly showed signs of politeness as she complimented her fashion sense in her own unique way. "I like your nails, Ursula. And your earrings. And your...” she paused, searching for the right term, “face earrings."

Ursula accepted the praise graciously, her amusement evident in her tone. "Why thank you," she replied, her smile unwavering, "I like them too. And I like yer hair."

Caught off guard by the unexpected interaction, Simon hesitated, feeling warmth creep up his cheeks as he met Ursula's gaze. "We're sorry to bother you, miss..." he began, his tone apologetic.

Ursula quickly dismissed his concerns, leaning casually against the counter and adjusting her black leather jacket. "Oh, not at all!" she reassured him, her demeanor friendly and relaxed. "She yers, mister...?"

"Sergeant Simian," he introduced himself, clearing his throat before adding, "and, erm, no. She's my boss' kid sister."

Ursula's response was warm and complimentary. "She's a sweet gal," she remarked, her words sincere.

"Well, you don't know her," he retorted, averting his eyes as a faint blush of embarrassment continued to color his cheeks.

“I’m hungry,” Toxic complained, tugging at Simon’s bandolier with impatience as her stomach continued to grumble and ache with the pangs of hunger.

“Well, uh…” the flustered gorilla spoke lowly before clearing his throat and raising his volume to be more audible, “good meeting you ma’am.” His words stumbled out in a mix of unease and courtesy, a subtle hint of nervousness seeping into his demeanor that he internally cursed himself for.

“I wanna sit with Ursula,” Toxic demanded, her tone once again insistent and unwavering.

“Jeez, you want a lot of things tonight…” Simon murmured through a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“By all means,” Ursula said graciously, motioning them to the two seats next to her, her gesture accompanied by a warm smile.

Internally, he cursed himself for his weakness against this already ill-mannered child. He placed her in the barstool next to Ursula, adjusting it so she could reach the counter before sitting next to her and grabbing a menu from the exhausted waiter that stood behind the counter.

Despite his embarrassment, Simon oddly enough found himself looking for an excuse to talk to Ursula. His mind's race for words luckily came to fruition as he noticed the steak in front of her. A flicker of curiosity sparked in his eyes.

“That any good?” He asked, his gaze flicking between her and the menu. His inquiry carried a hint of genuine interest, a subtle attempt to engage in conversation.

Ursula rolled her eyes a little and cringed as she answered, “dry, weak seasoning…” before she picked up the steak in her hands and bit into it, tearing off a chunk of it before devouring the piece. Her unconventional approach to dining caught Simon off guard, a mix of surprise and intrigue flickering across his features as he observed her. “But,” she began as she chewed before swallowing, “the beer makes you forget about that.”

“W-well… uh…” Simon stammered, blinking a few times as he processed the sight before him before looking at the zombie-like waiter, “I’ll, erm, have a patty melt and a black coffee.” His order came out in a hesitant manner, another sign of his slightly flustered state in the moment.

“Mhm,” they hummed, “and the kid?” The waiter asked monotonously.

“What do you wanna eat, Toxic?” Simon asked, leaning closer to Toxic who was scribbling on her kids menu with a used-up green crayon

Toxic hummed in thought as she stared at the menu before poking Simon’s shoulder and motioning him to lean in. Once he was close, she whispered matter-of-factly in his ear, “I can’t read.”

With a sigh, he let the waiter know it’d be a few minutes while he helped her decipher the menu, leading her to loudly declare that she wanted a grilled cheese sandwich with orange soda.

“Ah, take it easy on service workers,” Ursula advised, ruffling Toxic’s hair, “they go through enough. Especially in this world.”

“Fine…” Toxic acquiesced, lowering her head. “Can I have, um, a grilled cheese sandwich and then I wanna drink orange soda.” Her compliance was accompanied by a hint of hesitation as her eyes shifted to Ursula who held an approving thumbs up to her.

Simon reeled his head back in surprise. This was by far the most ill-mannered child he’d ever come across, and this woman they’d just met somehow had the charm and charisma to prompt her to behave acceptably. He’d be lying — which he would — if he said he didn’t understand the appeal Toxic saw in her. Simon found himself grappling with a mix of astonishment and intrigue, recognizing the subtle influence Ursula wielded over Toxic and those around her.

She was definitely… interesting.

The food didn’t take too long to get there. The dishes served were as good as one would expect from a diner of this quality. The bread on Simon’s patty melt had a hint of staleness, and the patty was quite dry, but overall, it was still edible. On the other hand, Toxic, who had spent her life in an orphanage that eventually closed down, possessed a less refined palate than Simon and eagerly devoured the slightly burnt grilled cheese sandwich.

All of a sudden, Toxic let out a whimper as she put down her half-eaten sandwich and covered the reddened cut on her lips with her hand.

“The sandwich hurt my mouth…” she whined, her speech muffled by her hand, revealing a moment of discomfort.

“It wouldn’t be so bad if you didn’t pick at the cut,” Simon chastised with a roll of his eyes.

“Aww,” Ursula said with concern as she gently moved Toxic’s hand and examined the cut, “that looks bad, lil girl. What happened?” Her expression softened with empathy.

“I fell off the slide,” she explained, her tone mirroring Ursula’s as she clearly soaked up the loving attention.

Inhaling sharply through her teeth, Ursula winced and asked, “ooh, did ya see a doctor?” Her concern for Toxic's welfare being evident with a gentle ruffle of the child’s hair.

“Sort of. We know a medic and she’s taking antibiotics,” Simon replied, soothing Ursula’s worries while taking a sip of his coffee.

“Well, if ya need any help with that, my friend Clarisse is a doctor,” Ursula offered, pulling a napkin from the holder in front of them and retrieving a pen from inside her jacket. She jotted down Clarisse’s phone number on the napkin before sliding it across the counter to Simon, extending a gesture of support.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Simon replied with a nod of gratitude.

“Anytime, soldier,” she lightly teased, saluting him with a wink, adding a touch of humor to the exchange.

The second he registered her wink, as if by reflex, he abruptly looked away, shifting his gaze to Toxic as her eyes darted between them while she absentmindedly picked at her lip.

“Knock it off,” Simon sternly reprimanded, nudging her hand away from her face.

“Ugh!” Toxic groaned in response before diverting her attention back to her sandwich, her frustration evident in her actions as she displayed an exaggerated frown and took a big bite into her meal.

As Ursula held what was left of her steak in one hand, her phone rang. With her speech slightly garbled from chewing, she answered the call. “Yah?” Her chewing gradually slowed, and the composed expression on her face began to falter as she listened intently to the caller, “thlow ‘own. Woss ‘appenin?” With a hint of concern creeping into her voice, Ursula set down her steak and swallowed the bite, muttering a curse under her breath. With a sense of determination, she declared, “ok. I’ll be there in a bit,” before ending the call.

“Who were you talking to?” Toxic asked, leaning in closer to Ursula, her curiosity piqued as she raised a questioning brow.

“I hate to leave you two, but I got a good feeling we’ll see each other again,” Ursula remarked, swiftly retrieving her wallet from her pocket and tossing cash on the counter, instructing the waiter to keep the change. Her actions conveyed a sense of urgency and purpose as she prepared to depart, a glimpse of her commitment to helping others in need.

“Is everything ok?” Simon asked without thinking, a rare moment of concern breaking through his usual stoic demeanor.

“Will be soon. You two enjoy your late-night snack. Good meetin’ ya!” Ursula bid them farewell before swiftly exiting the diner and speeding away on her motorcycle, leaving behind a sense of mystery and intrigue in her wake.

“I like Ursula,” Toxic remarked, taking a sip of her orange soda.

“She’s nice…” Simon murmured, his eyes drifting down to his plate. He continued to eat, resting his elbows on the counter as he held the patty melt in his hands.

Toxic carefully eyed his movements, resting her elbows on the counter as she picked up her sandwich and took a hearty bite. She noticed Simon wiping some grease off his chin with his thumb and followed suit, dabbing her own chin with her thumb.

Once they finished their meal, Simon signaled the waiter and paid for their bill. He slid off his barstool and stretched, his joints making a faint crackling noise.

“Ready, Toxic?”

“Ok,” she replied, letting out a small grunt as she climbed down from her barstool. She followed Simon out of the diner and back to their jeep. They continued to take the long way home, the engine purring as they drove through the various city streets.

As Toxic stared out the window while they passed by neon lights and towering billboard advertisements, her eyelids grew heavy. Her animated chatter slowed, and eventually, she fell silent, her head leaning against the door.

“Simon…” she murmured, her tiny voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes?” he replied.

“Today was my favorite day,” she said, her voice becoming softer as her eyes fluttering closed.

Simon’s thoughts drifted back to a pivotal moment in his life. He remembered the day vividly—the day he first truly embraced the life of combat. His old colony in the Mobian Jungle had been ruthlessly attacked by Robotnik’s forces. In the aftermath, he had dedicated himself to stockpiling weapons, acquiring them through any means necessary, even illegitimately. His grandfather had disapproved and cast him out, but Simon remained resolute in his quest for revenge. He launched a one-man assault on a Robotnik base, risking everything. Though he nearly perished in the onslaught of reinforcements, he harbored no regrets. He was ready to die in a blaze of glory. Instead, he was saved by Mammoth Mogul, the former leader of the Destructix, and given the chance to grow stronger. And grow he did, his resolve unwavering.

Simon’s gaze shifted to Toxic, who had fallen asleep, her head resting against the door panel. Despite her crass behavior and turbulent beginnings, she possessed a fierce determination that reminded him of himself years ago. She showed no hesitation in tasks like gunning down law enforcement and had a remarkable knack for marksmanship. Most admirably, she had no regrets about any of it. All of this, and she wasn’t even five years old.

“Just you wait, kid,” he murmured, a hint of a smile forming on his lips.

As the wee hours of the morning descended, the group made their way back to the familiar confines of the old orphanage without encountering any significant obstacles. Exhausted by the night's tumultuous events, they retired to their beds, seeking much-needed rest.

Armed with a considerable sum of illicitly acquired wealth, they now had more than enough funds for the cybernetic implants they desired. The following day, Scourge visited an auto shop to enhance the purple sports car he had commandeered while chasing his sister earlier in the week. In addition to repairing the window damaged during the pursuit, he had the vehicle repainted in a gleaming electric green hue and outfitted it with a matching spoiler, giving it the appearance of a sleek racecar—a subtle nod to his supersonic speed.

"It must be my birthday!" Scourge declared exuberantly, letting out a triumphant whoop as he cruised through the city streets. A cigarette dangled from his lips, and he bobbed his head in time to a hip-hop beat playing on the radio.

"Just wait until we're back in power," Fiona remarked with a grin, tapping her foot to the music while setting up her new laptop, which Miles would use to coordinate with the gang through their upcoming cybernetic enhancements.

"Then it'll be Christmas," he chuckled. "Have you found us a street clinic?"

"Yeah, Dr. Fedorov's Clinic. The reviews say he's good at what he does and values patient confidentiality, if you catch my drift," she replied slyly, offering a wink.

"Perfect," he nodded approvingly, flicking his cigarette butt out of the window.

"I messaged him, and he does provide the implants we need, but it will cost extra since they are military-grade and not exactly legal. He does have other stuff too if you’re interested?" she continued.

"Really? Show me," Scourge requested, turning his attention to her.

"Eyes on the road, babe," Fiona playfully scolded. "Don’t wanna be in a body cast before the big day."

“C’mon baby, your boy’s a good driver…” the green hedgehog began, his hand stroking her arm with a self-assured smirk. However, the tender moment with his girlfriend was short-lived as he abruptly hit the brakes, narrowly avoiding a collision with a turning car. The irate driver honked at him, prompting Scourge to retaliate by flipping them off and calling out, “up yours too, you old bitch!”

Fiona leaned her elbow casually against the door panel, raising an eyebrow as she rested her cheek on her knuckles, her gaze fixed on Scourge.

"What?" Scourge inquired, bewildered by her demeanor.

"Is this why you prefer running?" she queried, her tone laced with sarcastic curiosity.

"Cut me some slack, Fiona. I'm just hyped about everything that's happening, plus I've got a hot girl by my side," he retorted defensively, shrugging his shoulders.

"Am I too much of a distraction?" Fiona teased, a playful glint in her eye. "Because I can hop out."

"Please, exit the moving vehicle," Scourge replied amidst laughter.

"I might just do that. I'd probably better have better chances with that than being in a crash with you at the wheel," she jested, joining in his amusement.

"You bitch," Scourge teased, shaking his head.

"You're a bitch too," she shot back with a smirk, playfully poking his arm.

"The baddest of them all," Scourge declared, raising a finger in emphasis.

“Damn right,” Fiona replied, affectionately resting a hand on Scourge's shoulder, causing his grin to widen in response to her gesture.

“Does our doc buddy take walk-ins?” Scourge inquired, pausing at a stoplight and tapping his finger on the steering wheel, displaying a hint of impatience as he waited for the light to turn green.

“Yeah, but for now, we only have time for the procedures Miles mentioned. He says if we want it done today for three people, they better come in pretty soon,” Fiona answered, retracting her hand to focus on her laptop.

“Call the guys, then. Make sure Miles gets some food and water before they head over. Can't have a dead rat lying around,” Scourge instructed, his tone casual.

“On it,” Fiona responded, scrolling through her contacts. “And while we're out, how about you and I grab some actual food for a change?”

“Takeout only,” Scourge declared, navigating through the pristine streets maintained by private cleaning companies in this upscale area. He adjusted his sunglasses as the reflection of a sleek skyscraper caught his eye. “This place is different from the slums. People pay more attention to politics around here. They might recognize me.”

“As long as it's not dripping in grease, deal,” Fiona agreed, raising her phone to her ear to notify the Destructix about the upcoming appointment.

From what Scourge told them about the clinics, the gang harbored some reservations about visiting one. These establishments often offered walk-in surgeries for cybernetic implants and plastic surgery, resembling tattoo parlors in their approach. Overall, the idea of undergoing surgical procedures in a building situated across from a strip club left them feeling somewhat uneasy.

Despite the initial reservations, the clinic appeared to be well-regarded and maintained when Simon, Predator, and Lightning stepped into the empty waiting room. The sole occupant, a teenage receptionist, was engrossed in air drumming to a tune playing on her earbuds, her eyes shut tight, oblivious to their arrival.

Unperturbed by her distraction, Predator approached her and deftly removed her earbuds, eliciting a startled yelp as she opened her eyes to meet his unyielding gaze.

"Jesus, dude! What do you want?" she exclaimed.

"We're here to see the doctor. Our boss arranged cybernetic procedures for the three of us," Predator stated firmly, his expression as unchanging as a statue’s.

"Uh, yeah..." she stammered, clearing her throat and avoiding his chilling gaze. She turned her head towards an archway down the left hallway. "Hey, Uncle Rick? These guys are here."

"Come on back, fellas!" a gruff voice called out from the indicated direction, prompting them to follow the sound into a small, dimly lit operating room. The examination table, peculiarly equipped with straps for the arms and legs, was surrounded by an array of advanced equipment and technology that seemed more at home on a spaceship than in a street clinic. Why the technology on display surpassed anything they had encountered on Mobius, which was already far from primitive.

“Alright, so here’s the rundown,” he began, fixing his sunglasses, “Each session will take about two hours each. Y’all will be put under the whole time and won’t feel a thing. Aftercare is just a pill a day to help with any aches and fight off infections. And before I forget,” he added, extending a hand forward expectantly “payment’s up front. 9,000 moebiums.”

“That’s insane,” Lightning scoffed, crossing his arms.

“These are military grade implants you fellas are asking for,” Dr. Fedorov chided, “illegal without government authorization and not exactly a commodity amongst street clinics.”

“Relax, Lightning,” Simon said, smacking Lightning gently on the back of the shoulder before handing over the cash. “We can afford it regardless.”

After quickly thumbing through the bills, Dr. Fedorov grinned, his gold tooth glinting from the soft glow of the neon lights in the room. “Great. Who's up first?”

“I will go first if nobody objects,” Simon declared. When the group didn’t object, he continued “alright, you guys don’t gotta wait around ‘til I’m done. Go do whatever.”

“Later, man,” Lightning said with a wave, motioning for Predator to follow him out of the clinic.

For Predator, it felt like he didn’t get to spend much one-on-one time with Lightning nowadays. As they strolled past the many vibrant, and some vulgar signs and advertisements, his gaze flitted between the colorful displays, but his focus remained on the man beside him. Remembering the previous night after the bank robbery, when Flying ended up joining them on the ride home, Predator couldn't shake the feeling that something important to him had been interrupted. Nevertheless, now they had this time alone, and Predator felt a unique sense of calm and connection with Lightning, like they were a force shielded from the chaos of the world around them.

Reflecting on these feelings, Predator wondered if it was strange to experience such closeness with a longtime companion like Lightning. More than anything, though, he pondered whether Lightning felt the same way in his presence.

The blaring horn of a passing car jolted Predator back to reality, causing him to shift his thoughts and chastise himself for delving into such introspection. He recognized that dwelling on these feelings served no practical purpose and only served as a distraction from their established camaraderie.

Lightning, however, caught sight of Predator's gaze from the corner of his eye before the blue hawk quickly averted his eyes. Frowning slightly, Lightning inquired, "you alright?"

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine," Predator replied, clearing his throat nervously, feeling his heart skip a beat under the scrutiny of Lightning's gaze.

“Okay,” Lightning responded, raising an eyebrow in skepticism before dismissing it with a shrug. “So, what do you wanna do?”

“I’m open to anything,” Predator answered.

“Anything? Even the XXX Live Theater? Sign says it’s half off Wednesday,” Lightning teased, nudging Predator playfully with a mischievous grin.

With a soft chuckle, Predator shook his head, “god, live theater? What is it, broadway?”

“Yeah, a full-blown musical,” Lightning jested, sharing in Predator's amusement.

“It’d probably be better than that one-man play Flying did last year. I’ve never heard an audience actually scream boo,” Lightning remarked as they stood waiting to cross the street.

“Well, whenever you spray the front row with a fire extinguisher while screaming the alphabet, it really kills the mood,” Predator quipped with a shrug.

“Hopefully the ‘Happy Holiday Special’ doesn’t have as many problems,” Lightning remarked as they began walking across the crosswalk together.

“The what?” Predator asked, furrowing his brows in confusion.

“You heard me,” Lightning replied with a small laugh.

“Lovely,” Predator said sarcastically.

"To be honest, though, Hawks, it feels like you and I don’t hang out as much lately," Lightning remarked, wrapping an arm around Predator in a friendly gesture. "We got a couple hours to kill and it’s a big ci- what was that?"

“What was what?” The blue hawk inquired, dumbfounded.

“Your feathers got all puffy for a second and your tail, like, wagged,” Lightning pointed out, a teasing smirk playing on his face.

“I was only adjusting my feathers,” Predator replied, feigning interest in reading a nearby sign as he struggled to hide the flush creeping up his face.

“Hm, alright then,” the lynx chuckled, not entirely convinced by his friend's explanation but choosing to let it go.

Eager to shift the focus away from the embarrassing moment, Predator quickly scanned their surroundings for a distraction. His gaze settled on a skyscraper about half a mile away, sparking an idea.

“Well,” he began, an implicative grin forming, “I bet the view from that skyscraper is breathtaking.”

“Oh, yeah?” Lightning responded, intrigued.

“If you want, we could find out for ourselves,” Predator proposed.

“I’m down,” Lightning agreed enthusiastically.

With a swift motion, Predator spread his wings and took flight, with Lightning leaping up to grab onto his ankles. Carrying his friend effortlessly, they shot through the air toward the towering skyscraper, their destination in sight.

Upon reaching the rooftop, Predator landed smoothly, allowing Lightning to hop down onto the concrete.

“Wow…” Lightning marveled, settling on the edge. “This city may be a dump to live in but… you were right about the view.”

“I’ve... never seen anything quite like it,” Predator admitted softly, his usual stoic demeanor momentarily softened by the awe-inspiring sight before them.

The mesmerizing horizon held them in silent awe for several minutes. Sitting side by side, they absorbed the symphony of flying vehicles' gentle hum and marveled at the kaleidoscope of colorful city lights flickering below. Even in the daytime, the urban landscape sparkled as sunlight bounced off the polished surfaces of the towering skyscrapers.

Despite their shared knowledge that New Moebotropolis was far from utopian, in that moment, they felt a sense of detachment from its flaws. In the serene stillness of the sky, even the most sordid aspects seemed to fade away, revealing an unexpected beauty in the urban chaos.

In the presence of one another, they both found beauty where no one else could.

"I wonder what the view’s like from somewhere even higher?" Lightning mused, casting his gaze towards an even taller building.

“That’d be all well and good, Lightning,” Predator replied, “but I’ve a feeling you’d want to do more than just sightseeing…”

“Maybe I do,” Lightning responded, turning to face him. “What did you have in mind?”

“We freefall,” Predator declared as he rose to his feet. “As far down as we can.”

“And potentially splatter against an airbus?” Lightning quipped with a chuckle.

“Lightning Lynx, when did you start to fear risking your life?” Predator teased, lowering himself to Lightning's level, a smirk playing on his lips as their eyes locked.

“Who said I did?” Lightning shot back with a playful tone, standing up.

“Ah, yes. Because you know better than to forget who is looking out for you,” Predator remarked, rising to his feet.

“Yeah, yeah,” Lightning scoffed before playfully urging, “you first, Hawks!” and gave Predator a sudden push over the ledge.

Predator's eyes widened in surprise as he tumbled backward. Although he knew he had nothing to fear as a bird, he never expected his friend to push him off a roof in any circumstance. Moments later, as Lightning leaped after him, a mix of determination and smugness on his face, their eyes met, and Predator couldn't help but grin with a blend of amusement and camaraderie.

Adjusting his position in the air, Predator oriented himself downward, maintaining a vigilant watch for any potential obstacles as he descended rapidly towards the ground, with Lightning not far behind.

For Lightning, the sensation of detachment from solid ground was both exhilarating and liberating. As he ripped through the air with no fear, embracing the risk and the rush of adrenaline, he felt a profound sense of empowerment that surged through him, amplifying the thrill of the freefall.

As they descended closer to the ground, Predator turned towards Lightning once more and gestured for him to grab onto his feet. After aligning themselves, Lightning firmly clasped his ankles, and in a swift motion, Predator shot back up into the sky, narrowly evading the bewildered onlookers below.

Reaching the next skyscraper, they paused to savor the breathtaking view before Lightning, brimming with confidence, snapped a photo of the duo against the urban backdrop. Without hesitation, they plunged back towards the earth. As they neared ground level, they propelled themselves upwards to an even taller skyscraper, repeating the cycle from one building to another until they reached the tallest skyscraper around.

"This time," Predator announced, positioning himself at the edge with his hand extended towards Lightning, "we fall together."

With a warm smile, Lightning took Predator's hand, standing shoulder to shoulder with his trusted companion. "On three... one, two, three!" Predator counted before they both leaped off the ledge, their hands clasped tightly as they plummeted towards the ground.

The thrill of freefalling was intense, but the shared experience with one another made it all the more exhilarating. As they locked eyes during their daring descent, the rush of adrenaline was magnified by the bond of something more than mere friendship that united them in this extraordinary escapade.

Lost in the thrill of the moment, they failed to notice how rapidly they were approaching the ground. As Lightning turned his head to take in the surrounding view, his initial excitement swiftly transformed into a sense of urgency when he realized their perilous proximity to the sidewalk below. Reacting instinctively, he wrapped his arms around Predator's neck, gripping him tightly as he shouted, "Pull up, Hawks!"

Cursing softly under his breath, Predator swiftly extended his wings and ascended back into the sky, maneuvering them both safely back to the rooftop of the skyscraper they had leaped from moments before.

"Jesus, Hawks!" Lightning gasped, his heart pounding in his chest, momentarily forgetting that his arms were still wrapped around Predator.

"Sorry, Lightning," Predator responded, placing a comforting hand on Lightning's shoulder as the lynx sheepishly withdrew his arms.

"Don't worry... I still had a great time," Lightning managed to say between pants, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"Me too," Predator replied sincerely, giving Lightning's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. With his eyes stuck on his companion’s grin, he felt compelled to speak up, "Hey, Lightning?"

"What's on your mind?" Lightning inquired, noticing a shift in Predator’s demeanor as he somehow seemed startled by his own question.

Retracting his hand and wiping sweat from his brow, Predator let out a deep sigh and gazed down at his feet before asking, "where would you like to grab some lunch from?"

"How does ramen sound? We can have it here," Lightning suggested, perched on the ledge.

"Sounds good. Wait here, and I'll bring it up, okay?" Predator agreed, gazing out at the horizon before spreading his wings and taking flight.

During his search for a ramen shop, his mind was tearing itself apart. Predator Hawk was anything but a coward, but he couldn’t bear the risk of jeopardizing the bond he had with Lightning. He treasured his relationship with him deeply, considering him one of his most cherished, irreplaceable companions. With only a few words, Lightning may never see him the same again. After all, he still held bitterness about his heart being broken by Conquering Storm several months ago. Would broaching this potentially sensitive topic cross a line with Lightning? Could it imply to him that their friendship was lacking in some way to Predator? Even if Lightning responded the way he dreamed, what then? With his lack of experience in that field, things could end badly, thus causing him to lose both what he has now and what he wishes he had.

Besides, he couldn’t risk revealing such a deeply personal and vulnerable side of himself. For years, he had meticulously worked to mask that part of his identity, a task he had undertaken since childhood, ever since his own mother had abandoned him.

He had long known that she didn’t like him. She was constantly yelling at him for things including not making eye contact, swaying in his seat, fussing when things were too loud, or struggling to express himself. But it was the late-night arguments between his parents that truly exposed the depth of her resentment. As he lay awake in bed, he overheard her tirades, calling him a freak and resenting his father for not giving her a "normal" child. In comparison, his father’s disdain was more subdued until she left.

From that painful moment on, he resolved to improve himself so that no one would ever want to leave him again. Every day became a challenge to better himself and reach new heights. By his teens, he had become a fierce soldier in the Battle Bird Armada, learning to endure eye contact, sit still and quietly, manage overstimulation, and most importantly, mask the parts of himself that had previously been shunned by others.

Despite his fierce pride and genuine enjoyment of his achievements, his father rarely showed any pride in him. No matter how much he changed and grew, to Nigel Hawk, Predator would always be the abnormal child who drove his wife away. The day Predator was promoted in the Armada, he returned home, packed some essential belongings, and left without a single word to his father, severing contact forever.

For a time, his might and determination to be the best were his only constants. These traits saw him through being expelled from the Armada for attacking the Battle Lord's son and during his tenure with the Babylon Rogues. However, after joining the Destructix, despite its shifting leadership and affiliations, he found another constant.

Simon, Flying… and Lightning.

He knew what it was like to lose him. Even with his gratitude for the presence of Simon and Flying, when Lightning left the Destructix to rejoin the Raiju Clan—where he wasn’t nearly as valued as he had been among the Destructix—a part of Predator felt hollow. The empty chair at the table, the silence where Lightning’s words should have been, left an undeniable void.

Lightning had been back for quite some time now, and although Predator hadn’t shown it much, he was overjoyed by his return. It was because of this that he knew he couldn’t reveal his true feelings for Lightning. The revelation would inevitably lead to the displaying of a weak, vulnerable side of himself that may push Lightning away. Predator resolved to take these feelings to his grave.

No matter how foolish it seemed, though, he wanted it more than anything. The more he repressed his feelings, the louder they became. Even if he wouldn’t allow himself to act on them, he couldn’t lie to himself—they were undeniably there.

"Predator?" Lightning's voice cut through the silence as the two gazed out over the urban horizon from the skyscraper, each holding a takeout lunch.

Lost in his thoughts, Predator had barely registered the last thirty minutes.

"Yes?" Predator responded, trying to collect himself after noticing Lightning's concerned expression.

"You haven't even opened your ramen," Lightning remarked, twirling his chopsticks in his bowl before taking a bite of noodles. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just waiting for it to cool more..." Predator replied, clearing his throat as he removed the lid, releasing a puff of steam into the air.

"Then why'd you keep the lid on?" Lightning inquired. "You know that just traps the heat."

"I guess I forgot," Predator admitted, absentmindedly taking a bite of his meal then wincing as he spat out piping noodles that had burned his beak.

"Slow down, Hawks!" Lightning cautioned. "You seem really out of it. You sure you're okay?"

"I said I'm fine, Lightning," Predator responded, wiping the mess with a napkin.

"I know you better than that. What's wro-"

"I said there's nothing wrong," Predator cut in sharply.

Taken aback by his tone, Lightning reacted with a scoff of offense before turning away, muttering, "fine."

The two lapsed into a bitter silence, finishing their meals before receiving word from Simon that his procedure had gone well and it was time for one of them to undergo it.

"Do you want to go next?" Lightning asked, his gaze locked on his phone rather than Predator.

"Fine," the blue hawk replied impassively.

As they flew back to the clinic together, the storm in Predator's mind raged on. He hadn't intended to be harsh with Lightning, but he couldn't let his inner turmoil spill out. Now, tension lingered between them. While he knew they could likely overcome it, the guilt of his treatment towards Lightning weighed on his heart. Concealing his feelings felt crucial, yet he pondered how far he would need to go to maintain that facade.

Above all, he questioned whether it would be worth doing so in the end.

…

(SO the surprise was revealed! It’s Ursula the Polar Bear!!!!! For those unaware, Ursula belongs to @ceoofdestructix and was written in with both their permission and guidance! Thanks for letting me use the mama bear, friend! I can’t wait to write more “surprises” with your help 😉)

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agentmarcuspike · 11 months ago

Text

“t h e l o n g e s t n i g h t”

– a secret santa holiday fic for erin @perotovar ✧

pairing: marcus pike + nonbinary!reader synopsis: left alone in the big city during the longest night of the year, a stranger in a club makes you wish it were even longer. word count: 1.9k a/n: i was so fucking excited when i got you as my giftee, erin. i love everything you make, gifs and stories, and i've been wanting to give something back to you, so i’m grateful for this excuse/opportunity. wanted to post it on the actual solstice, but when i saw you were my secret santa too, i couldn’t wait lol. (a lil shoutout to @scenaaario as well, for being my secret informant.) love u, proud of u!

It's the winter solstice; the shortest day of the year.

But then again, it’s also the longest night.

All of your friends have already gotten on their trains and planes to celebrate the holidays with their families, leaving you to create your own traditions. Usually you’d get out of town as well, hole up somewhere the sky is clearer, the air lighter. Celebrate the return of the sun, the light, the new year, with a bonfire and candles to drive the dark away. From without, so within.

This year is different. A last minute opportunity presenting itself for your best friend; spending the holidays and New Years in Thailand with her Man of the Month, had left you in charge of house sitting, looking after her apartment and moody old cat.

So this year, on the darkest of the nights, unable to escape the city, you’re hoping to make the many hours pass as quickly as possible, the promise of lighter days the only thing you look forward to.

You’ve been staring at yourself in the club’s dirty bathroom mirror for far too long, impatient fists knocking on the door, and you yell at them to give you a second. Face sweaty, eyeliner smudged, eyes empty, you barely recognize yourself. The sheer black shirt you’re wearing is unbuttoned as far as it can be. With a last look at the person in the mirror, you straighten your septum piercing, and make your way out of the bathroom.

The heavy scent of spilled beer and sweaty bodies hit you as soon as you open the door. Thumping music, more bass than tune, tickles your eardrums, and you can feel the sound as waves of prickles on your skin. The soles of your boots stick to the greasy floor where you’re making your way across the room, squeezing through the crowd of people, who are all moving as one; a massive creature with many heads, twice as many arms, and a sole purpose with existence: To dance the night away.

It’s not possible to avoid touching people as you push through to get to the bar, so you try your best to be respectful with your hands, but as you place them carefully on a slim waist to push past, a zap runs through your arm, as if your finger were a fork and this body were electric. Five thousand Volts of static travel between you, and the body your hands quickly withdraw from must have felt it too, because he quickly turns to face you.

Looking down at you, his brows are raised, mirroring yours, mouth slightly agape. A different type of electricity runs through you as your eyes meet. It travels from your face, burning your cheeks, through your throat, removing every trace of moisture on its way to your stomach, where it does a loop, and ends as a throbbing pressure between your legs.

In the short moments of flashing lights, you can make out his features. High cheekbones shadowing his clean shaven face. Slightly crooked nose and sharp jawline. Kind eyes, crinkling at the corners, softening it all out.

You can’t hear him, but his shoulders shake as he laughs, and you laugh too, looking away nervously. He brings your attention back to him when he leans down, mouth to your ear.

“I’d shake your hand, but I’m worried you’ll shock me again.”

His voice is surprisingly deep, but not booming. It has a comforting, gentle glee to it, and his breath tickles the sensitive skin around your ear.

“I’m Marcus,” he finishes before pulling away far enough to look at your face again.

Staring at each other, you can only giggle. You lick your lips before leaning in, lips brushing the shell of his ear as someone bumps into you, pushing you closer. With a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself, you tell him your name.

“And you shocked me!” you accuse.

“Why would I do that?!” Marcus yells, hand on his chest in mock offense.

Something about him has you grinning, your mouth dry, upper lip sticking briefly to your exposed teeth as you close your mouth. He’s funny, he’s cute. You wanna buy him a drink.

Your platform shoes give you some extra height, but you still have to stand on your toes to reach his ear when he stands up tall.

“Thirsty?” you ask, supporting yourself with a hand on his bicep.

“Parched.”

“Drink?”

“Yeah.”

Your hand glides from his upper arm, across his warm skin, feeling the nerves in his forearm flex under your fingers. When your hand reaches his, you squeeze it once before taking the lead, creating a path and guiding you both through the crowd towards the bar.

The music is quieter there, muffled by a thin wall dividing the bar area from the dance floor. You can no longer feel the booming bass in your body, but the way your heart is beating it might as well have slipped inside of you, bruising the inside of your chest bone with insistent thumps, begging to be let back out again.

Marcus leans on the bar bench, and you do the same. Or, at least you try to. Your height makes you feel more like a child being allowed to order hot chocolate by themself for the first time, face peeking over the bar like a meerkat. He must see it too, because he shoves you playfully.

“Wanna sit on my shoulders so you can see?”

You roll your eyes at him. “Yeah, yeah. Heard it all before.”

He turns towards you, looking down at your shoes.

“I mean, even with the platforms…”

“Okay, mister, we’re both well aware of how much I need a couple of inches.”

Your accidental innuendo catches him off guard, and he just stares at you for a second.

“No, wait–” you begin.

“Wow!”

“I didn’t– That wasn’t what I–”

But it’s too late, you’re already blushing, burying your face in your hands as you groan.

Marcus just laughs, patting your back with a soft, gentle hand.

“All good, don’t worry. How about we start with two fingers?”

It’s your turn to be speechless. Not sure whether to be impressed or offended by his abrasiveness, you look back up towards him, but he’s not looking at you. You follow his gaze to the bartender, who’s busy filling two glasses with… two fingers of whiskey.

Marcus accepts the glasses from the bartender, and hands you one with a satisfied smirk.

“It’s gonna be a long night if you keep this up,” you murmur, shaking your head playfully as you smile into the glass.

“I’ll drink to that,” Marcus grins back, finishing his drink in one go.

He looks at you expectantly, and with a grimace you down your own, before you let him grab you by the hand and pull you back towards the dance floor.

Marcus’ hands softly grip your waist as you move to the music. He gracefully guards you, quickly and easily twirling you out of the way whenever someone grinds too close. Your own hands rest on his broad shoulders, one of them moving slowly to the back of his neck, your thumb drawing small circles over the soft skin behind his ear.

He closes his eyes, leaning to rest his forehead against yours, and you swear you can feel the vibrations of him purring through his chest.

You’re no longer following the music, your bodies swaying to the steady pulse of your own hearts, which are beating in unison, a tango for just the two of you.

Marcus’ dark eyes flutter open, so close you can barely focus. His nose brushes yours as he leans in all the way, connecting his lips with yours. Soft at first, mouths closed, firmly pressed against each other. With your hands on his neck, you pull him down towards you, closer, closer, closer, and his hands on your waist grip you tighter.

He breaks away, nuzzling his nose against your cheek as he moves to your neck, where he presses open mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin, sucking lightly. A shiver runs through you, leaving goosebumps from your tailbone to the very top of your head. You turn towards him, seeking his mouth with your own.

This time you part your lips to invite him in, poking your tongue out ever so slightly. He accepts your invitation, feeding you his tongue back, the residue of whiskey coating it burning deliciously. It’s soft, your mouths working together instead of fighting for dominance, but it quickly grows more needy, two sets of hands grabbing and pulling, searching for something to hold onto.

Your hands settle on his lower back, finding the waistband of his pants, hooking your fingers in his belt hoops. With a quick tug, you pull his hips flush with yours, and he gasps into your mouth. He pulls away, just far enough to look into your eyes properly. A question between you, pulled tight like a rubberband. Requesting permission to move further. You nod at him once, giving him the green light, and the rubberband snaps as his lips once again connect with yours.

And he indulges. His hands travel to rest at your lower back, before sliding down to cup your ass, squeezing once. You catch yourself wishing, for the first time in your life, that you’d worn a skirt, so you could have felt his big hands against your skin. The cramped mass of people dancing around you are oblivious to your endeavor, only bumping into you every now and then, but Marcus doesn’t let you budge an inch, holding you tight, a hand on your ass and one arm sneaking around your back, holding onto your waist.

Your thumbs find the sliver of skin between his waistband and his shirt. With slow movements, in contrast to the quick blinking of lights seeping through your eyelids, you draw tiny circles on the soft skin of his narrow waist. One of his hands moves back to your face, thumb resting against your lower lip as he delicately pulls on it with his teeth, soothing the sting with his tongue immediately. You wish he’d have bitten harder, drawn blood. That he’d taste you, mix the fluid from your veins with the ones of his mouth. Swallow you.

He thrusts against you once, seeking friction, hard and impatient underneath his clothes. Had he shoved his hands down yours, he would have found you dripping as well; so slick and ready to take him. But all you can do with the crowd of people moving around you is hold on tight, and hope for an opening, however small, between atoms, letting your bodies move inside each other, the way his tongue does in your mouth, and your hand, secretly between your bodies, gently covering his protruding bulge.

You squeeze him gently, and you can feel his lashes flutter against your nose as he rests his forehead against yours, his mouth open in a silent moan.

The dance floor doesn’t exist anymore. It’s just the two of you now. Two hungry bodies, two lonely souls. You hear no more music, ears filled only with the sound of rushing blood. All you can taste is whiskey, and all you can see is him. You catch yourself wishing that this night, the longest one of the year, would last just a little while longer.

— happy holidays !!! x

#space sisters secret santa 2023 #marcus pike x reader #except reader is specifically Erin lmao #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike fanfic #marcus pike x you #my writing #useroaks #perotovar

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arget-star · 3 hours ago

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This was SUPPOSED to be just a short lil thing and then I realized I can’t shut up. A continuation of this that somehow ended up at 1.3k

In which Sakura teaches you the beginnings of self defense

Cw: none! Just fluff and the obligatory Sakura teasing

“I’m not punching you,” you tell him stubbornly, hands planted on your hips. Sakura snorts in agreement.

“No, you won’t. Just throw one, will ya? I’m tryna teach you the basics, that’s all.”

Ugh, he’s so annoying sometimes. You huff, then release your hips, curling your fingers into loose fists. You know you won’t actually cause him harm—he’ll dodge anything you toss his way. It’s the principle of the thing that bothers you; everyone in Sakura’s life leading up to Furin did whatever they could to hurt him. Logically, you know this isn’t close to the same thing. Yet standing here, now, with the intention of aiming your knuckles directly into face…it’s harder to reconcile your emotions with good sense.

Sakura, oblivious to your internal struggle, gestures to your hands. “C’mon, defend yourself.” Perhaps he’s a bit more in tune with your emotional state than you realize; he sounds like he’s making a conscious effort to be patient.

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you comply, trying to copy the easy way he raises his own fists. Your shoulders are practically by your ears, and you feel too stiff, but at least your thumb isn’t tucked underneath your knuckles and your body is at a slight angle. Heterochromatic eyes assess you; it still baffles you, how anyone could see something so beautiful and immediately try to snuff it out.

He steps closer, placing his palms atop your shoulders. “Relax,” he murmurs, gently pushing down until he’s satisfied. “You’ll make yourself sore bein’ all tense like that.”

Honestly, you’d expected him to be a little gruff, given how he’d spiraled over your lack of self defense skills last week; this surprising tenderness is welcome. In fact, you do relax, some of your nerves melting away as he takes a step back.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he gives you a look you would call bored if you didn’t know better. His eyes flash with hidden excitement. The thrill of a fight—even teaching the mechanics of one—runs through him.

It’s cute, really, and you bite your bottom lip on a smile. Now’s not the time to tease him.

“Alright. Front hand, go.”

You stare at him. His cheeks no longer tinge pink whenever you do so, and privately, half of you mourns the loss. The other half is proud he’s growing more comfortable with your relationship. Inhaling through your nose, you tighten your fist, then unleash it straight for his nose with a sharp jab of your elbow.

Naturally, it doesn’t land. Sakura easily leans away, black eyebrow raising with a meaning you can’t quite discern. Is he impressed? Disappointed? “Too obvious where you wanted to punch. Couldn’t keep your eyes off my nose.”

You retract your arm, poking your tongue out at him. “Don’t I get a well done for my first attempt?”

Now a faint blush spreads atop his cheekbones. You don’t bother hiding your smile. He looks away with another scoff. “It wasn’t bad. Now stop teasin’ me! Ya wanted to learn, didn’t ya?”

Well, this had been his idea, one you readily agreed to if only to soothe his anxiety, but you refrain from pointing that out. A small glow of pride blooms in your chest instead; he praised you, in his own way, and that’s worth enduring a few of his prickly outbursts. “I did.” Truly, after you’d said yes to this, you realized just how much you did want to learn, especially to see the look of surprise on some jerk’s face the next time they tried hitting on you. Hardly anyone expects the girls in this town to defend themselves.

Sakura puts you through a dozen or so punching drills, correcting everything from how you twist your hips to how to best hold your other fist up while punching. Once he’s finally satisfied you’ve got the basics down, he stands in front of you again, looking completely unruffled. Meanwhile, strands of hair have come loose from your ponytail, hanging limply around your face. You flick away a particularly annoying piece dangling across your nose.

His pointed chin dips in silent go ahead. You’re prepared, this time. Mostly. You know where to focus—forward, but not lasered in on any one thing. Another inhale. You’re about to throw it, even have your hips half twisting, when a sudden idea strikes you.

“Wait, wait, hang on—can you pass me my sweater, please?” Oh, he’s going to be so mad. It will be absolutely worth it, if you can pull this off. Indeed, Sakura looks at you like you’ve gone crazy, but he still stomps over to the park bench you’d draped your sweater over earlier, picking up the garment with all the inherent gentleness everyone refuses to see in him.

“Tch, you can’t stop and ask for your sweater in the middle of a fight! You cold or somethin’?”

“Something like that,” you reply, fighting back a grin with every ounce of self control in your body. His fingers brush against yours as he passes you the sweater. He gives you another look, assuming his former position while you slip your arms into the soft material. Once situated, you resume your fighting stance, all trace of mirth gone from your expression. “Alright, take this!”

It’s a good punch, all things considered. You remember everything he told you, and you barely hesitate as you watch your hand inch closer to his (pretty) face. Sakura neatly sidesteps it, though not before you notice the approving little curve to his lips. Triumph makes the prideful glow inside your chest glow sunshine bright.

However, instead of throwing your arms up in success like he anticipates, you grab the lapels of your sweater and give it a little tug. “And that’s why I can’t stand weaklings,” you intone, in your best impression of Sakura, complete with a self-satisfied smirk.

The real Sakura tilts his head, confusion flickering across his face—and then it hits him.

Las night, you’d accompanied him and his vice captains to dinner at Café Pothos. Suo and Nirei, in clear disregard for their lives, had regaled you with tales of his first few fights with Bofurin, off-base impressions included.

His ensuing blush is a brilliant shade of crimson. You do feel a slight twinge of guilt; you’ll have to make it up to him somehow.

He takes a step back, launching an accusing finger in your direction. “I do not sound like that! ‘Nd I told ya to stop makin’ fun of me!” Notably, he makes no defense about the jacket tug. (You find that particular quirk of his incredibly endearing.)

Despite your best efforts, you can’t help the laughter bubbling up in your throat. Were it anyone else, it’d make him angrier, enough that he’d knock them out cold. But it’s you, and you’re murmuring out apologies in between peals of mirth, and well, he’s never able to stay mad at you. Sakura stands down, lowering his finger, unamused as you gather yourself. That glower of his is rather impressive.

“I couldn’t resist,” you finally say, giggle fit over. Stepping into his personal space, you drape your arms around his neck, curling a finger around a strand of hair. “Sorry, Haru. I promise you look way cooler than that.”

“How do you know, huh?” Sakura returns your hug, tugging you closer, until you’re flush against his chest. Incredible that only a week ago you were apologizing for calling him Haruka, and now his nickname flows so easily off your tongue, like you’d been saying it for years. He wonders, not for the first time, what his life would have looked like if he’d met you earlier.

“’Cause. I have seen you fight before. And you’re the strongest in Bofurin.”

Sakura rests his chin atop your hair. One day, he will be, and he knows it’ll be because you’re by his side.

#char writes #.sakura haruka #wind breaker #Sakura wind breaker #sakura haruka x reader #wind breaker x reader #sorry for being obsessed with the intimacy of names #it will happen again

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lanitalay · 9 months ago

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Among Flames and Starlight Chapter 4

A/n: ok so THIS IS VERY FUN EXCITING CHAPTER FOR THIS STORY.

Warnings: slut shaming, a lil blood, beron

Word count: 3.4k

Other Chapters

His maroon sleeve brushed against her bare arm. As fast as she could, Irene clasped her hands together on her lap. Cassian grumbled, picking up his glass of wine and downing it in one gulp. He signaled for one of the servants to fill it again and asked them to “not let it get empty.” Cassian was the only one of the Night Court with her, Azriel had been instructed to accompany Victoria as she was assigned to a different table tonight and Rhysand was sitting with his mother.

“Good evening” he greeted. Gods, his voice. She had never heard him speak. Earlier he had remained silent and the group left before he had the chance to say anything. If Irene knew how melodic it was she would have lingered. Drops of blood gathered in her palms as she pierced her skin with her nails. That was a completely inappropriate thought. He was a monster. Cassian tipped the glass his way in lieu of speaking. Irene nodded in acknowledgement.

“You’re not usually this civilized soldier,” Eris remarked. Irene reached for an embellished linen napkin and wiped her hands clean. Cassian leveled a look at him that promised hurt, vengeance. “It takes all of my self control to not rip your throat out” the Illyrian replied in a steady voice.

“You’re not still upset about the ordeal with Morrigan are you? That was so long ago I’ve basically forgotten about it” Irene’s brows shot up and she looked to Cassian, who was sitting across from her. His hands balled up in fists, nostrils flaring and lips pulling back to reveal sharp canines. Before he could say-or do- anything Irene interjected.

“It’s disappointing that you are exactly what everyone says.”

Eris turned his head to fully face her but Irene did not meet his gaze, focusing on the bread in front of her. She was spreading butter on a roll as Eris responded “you speak? I thought Rhysand had you as a muted little wh-” Cassian slammed his fist on the table causing the cutlery and porcelain to rattle. “That’s enough, Eris.” Irene’s face was red. Neck, cheeks and eyes burning.

“You reek of him, you know? It 's nauseating.”

Irene turned her head and looked directly into his honeyed eyes. Shame pulsing through her veins for having admired them hours before. “Rude, vulgar, hot headed, unintelligent and weak. Wasn’t your father considering his heir might be the youngest Vanserra? What’s his name? Lucien?” She picked her glass of wine and sipped, feigning nonchalance. “I suggest you don’t burn all the bridges you have with other courts, emissary might be the only position left for you after your kid-brother ascends the throne.”

“I don’t consider an exchange with an Illyrian bastard and a half-blood concubine to be detrimental to my diplomatic relations.” Cassian picked up the sharpest knife in front of him and made to lunge forward. His raised hand was stopped by his shadow who promptly dragged him out of the hall. Irene threw her napkin on the table and followed after them.

“Cassian, you didn’t have to lose your cool like that, now Celene will hear about it and probably the High Lord and it will be a bigger mess” Irene reprimanded her friend while he watched her pace the length of the sitting room in the apartments. “He was running his mouth, Ire. He has no reason to insult you. It’s fine if it's just me, but he doesn’t even know you.” Irene squeezed between her brows, in an attempt to alleviate the tension then asked “how long is he going to be chained like that?” Cassian’s appointed babysitter had chained him to a column, instead of taking him to the dungeons, upon Irene’s insistence.

“When the High Lord orders me to free him, he will be freed.”

“Mother above,” Celene’s voice made Irene flinch. She would not want to be at the end of the glare Cassian was receiving. Beside her, Rhysand tried to suppress a shit eating grin, Azriel shook his head in disapproval and Victoria’s eyes bulged from her head.

“Explain, now” the Lady demanded.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Irene fanned her face white an artisanal fan that Victoria had insisted she pack. It was useful as they stood under the blaring sun. The new docks Tarquin had ordered were enormous. There was a ship docked at every bridge and even more littered across the turquoise bay. They were being inaugurated today. Six ships destined for each of the courts, excluding Summer, were lined up in the middle of the docks. Each High Lord stood behind their designated ship with a bottle of sparkling wine. It was a pristine day for a sail, the skies clear and a steady breeze was sweeping from the East.

Tarquin was finishing up a speech about this new chapter for the Courts and how “prosperity will reign upon the land.” Irene was sweating, the fan not doing enough. It did not help that Eris was next to her and he seemed to radiate heat. She had tried her best to move to another spot but the crowds were packed tightly on the narrow bridge to the docks. It was not meant for holding such a large group of fae, it was built so merchants could anticipate which ships were rolling in. She was biting her tongue because something told her he was doing it on purpose. Manipulating the temperature so that she’d be miserable.

Victoria had soothed her last night, saying that everyone had petty dramas with other courts “Rhys can’t stand Tamlin, he plays nice but only to keep the peace and Cassian has an enemy in probably every court.” But Irene wasn’t thrilled about having Eris for an enemy, if that’s what it was.

She counted each flap of her fan, each mast on the ships, everytime Tarquin said the word “prosperity” and she counted the seconds that passed. Even if it seemed that time had stopped in this excruciating moment.

It was indeed passing, if ever so slowly.

The six ships set off and the High Lords threw the bottles of sparkling wine until they collided on the wood, dousing the stern with the bubbly nectar. The crowd cheered and promptly left the bridge. Irene remained in her place since the person beside her refused to move. “Do you mind?” She asked him. “What’s the hurry?” Eris retorted, “can’t handle the heat?” Irene rolled her eyes and waited for the crowd to thin out before going around him and finding her friends. She walked until she reached the shade under a large tree and breathed in the summer air. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced. The salt opened her airways, it felt like breathing for the first time.

Velaris seemed cruel compared to Adriata.

Sharp, familiar talons scraped along her mental shields and Rhysand told Irene where to meet him. “There you are, darling” he smiled as she neared him. He held out his hand, Irene looked to see if anyone else was around before taking it. “You don’t have to be so paranoid, even if people found out about us it wouldn’t be a big deal.” He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

“You won’t get called a whore and concubine but I will, Rhys.” He stopped walking, turning to her “who said that to you?” She shook her head “I don’t feel like talking about it.” Realization flashed across his features “it was Eris, right? That’s why Cassian got locked up?”

“Can we not talk about it?” Irene pleaded.

“Why didn’t you just tell me? Why didn’t he?”

She took a deep breath. “I would have been mortified if he told your mother and your sister that Eris Vanserra said I reek of you, that I’m your plaything. So he omitted those details because it was embarrassing. Now, please let's just have a nice day at the beach.”

Rhysand relented and winnowed them the rest of the way. When Irene opened her eyes again she was in awe. They were in a small cove. It was just about the size of her bedroom in the town house. White and smooth sand, a coral reef protected the beach so there were no waves. It was a crystalline pool of pure blue. “This is where I wanted to take you, I found this beach years ago and it's always empty.”

“It's breathtaking, Rhys.” She turned and stepped on her tiptoes to kiss him. He placed his hands on her thighs, signaling for her to jump and wrap her legs around him. She did and then the kiss deepened. Her fingers ran through his hair and she pulled his face away just a bit to say “thank you for bringing me here.”

It was a scene she would have loved to freeze. To live in forever. They swam in the water, lounged on the sand, made love under the shade of a palm tree without the worry of someone seeing them. She wanted this forever.

Him, forever.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Irene stared at her reflection yet again. Tonight was the grand ball, signaling the end of the celebrations. Her gown tonight was a dark violet color, the fabric weaved with reflective fibers that made it shimmer. The fabric was silky and it cascaded around her curves beautifully. The top covered her chest and wrapped around her neck like a halter. Her back was fully exposed down to just above her underwear. Victoria insisted she put her hair up to show the dress off. So she pinned her locks into a tight bun, adorning it with a silver hair piece to match the bracelets and earrings she wore. She lined her eyes with kohl and tinted her lips in a deep berry shade.

When Rhysand saw her walking into the sitting room he knew it was over for him. He wanted to cage her against the wall and draw out all of the little noises he loved so much. Wanted to kiss every inch of her exposed skin. Wanted to see her only in the bracelets and earrings. He maintained his composure and with gritted teeth watched as she looped her arm with Azriel’s. He would be her escort tonight, since Cassian was freed from the chains but forbidden to attend the ball, or any other event. And, since Rhys would be dancing with a list of prearranged matches, all with females who could offer potentially advantageous connections.

His father had made that list and one for Victoria as well.

When the entourage entered the Grand Ballroom the party was in full swing. Dancing, drinking, eating and a fair bit of laughing transformed the marble lined room into a paradise of indulgence. Rhysand was quickly ordered to dance with a female from Winter. She was gorgeous but he could not help the way his eyes searched for Irene in the crowd. He relaxed when he saw her drinking wine and chatting with Azriel near the spread of food.

“Do you want to dance?” Azriel asked, pointing to the whirl of revelers. “I do, there’s this one dance I’m dying to do. Hopefully they play it tonight.” He takes her hand and they join in the dancing. They are two songs in when the band starts playing a familiar intro. “This is it, Az!” He grimaces “I don’t know this one.”

Irene frowns and says “oh, that’s fine, let’s just get something to drink instea-” Rhysand steps in front of them “I know this dance” and offers a hand. He knew it because she had taught him the basic movements of it on the beach. Irene beams and takes it, he swiftly leads her back to the dance floor where everyone else has positioned themselves. Right on queue the song moves into the first verse. All of the couples dance in a waltz around the room.

“You’re doing great,” Irene reassures Rhys, who is leading her carefully to not crash into anyone else. Mind to mind he says “you’re making me crazy tonight, I’ve never seen a more beautiful creature” and smiles when he notices the blush staining her cheeks. “Now you spin me and dance with the person behind you, one, two, three-” he spins her and she lands in the arms of Varian, the High Lord of Summer's cousin. “Good evening, Lady Irene.” She quirks a brow, “how do you know my name?” He spins her once but brings her back to him and answers “I sent out your invitation, upon the insistence of Victoria.” They separate but their hands remain clasped as they circle each other “oh! Thank you so much, she never mentioned who she had to bribe.” He places his hand on her waist again “it’s no problem, only next time leave Cassian at home.” Irene laughs “will do.” He spins her one more time and she reaches her final partner.

Rhysand clenched his jaw so hard he thought he might chip a tooth when he saw who Irene was dancing with.

She suppressed a groan and an insult when Eris placed his hand on her back and grabbed her right hand with his own. Stay silent. Don’t engage. Look anywhere but him. “Your lordling seems to be unhappy with your current dance partner.” Eris is smirking when she meets his gaze. “So am I.”

He spins her once, not missing a beat. “He doesn’t like to share his toys, never has.” His lips graze her ear. Irene hisses. He spins her again, but instead of having her return to face him, he presses his chest against her back in a new variation of the dance. This makes her have a clear view of Rhys and his obvious scowl. “What was your name again?”

His voice brings her back to the moment. “Irene,” she answers flatly.

“I meant your last name,” he spins her and they are face to face again. “Vallier.”

“I thought you looked familiar, I knew a Vallier during the war. Sad old male. Never understood what he was doing on a battlefield.” On instinct Irene dug her nails into Eris’ hand, deep enough to draw blood, and snapped “say one word about my father and I’ll have your head.”

He chuckles, “it’s funny that you think you have some sort of upper hand.” They separated except their hands, now smeared in blood, circling each other. “You’re an ass,” Irene spits at him. She flinches as his palm becomes scolding. Her own searing in pain. She curses loudly. Eris leads her through the final movements in a blur of precision. She centers herself to the music. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. She returns to Rhys, enraged.

“What happened?” He asked through her mind. Irene shook her head, not wanting to relive the last few moments so soon. What he said about her, about her father. It crossed a line. “Let’s just finish the dance” he nodded and continued to spin her through the final movements of the song. When it was over Rhysand held onto Irene’s right hand and inspected it. It felt rougher now, when he saw the burns on her fingers he tensed and when he saw the blood under her nails he stopped in his tracks. “He did this to you?”

“Yes, now let’s get something to drink-” before she could finish her thought he was storming through the crowd, aiming straight towards Eris. Azriel, who had been observing the whole scene, intercepted him and dragged him out of the ballroom. Irene was right behind them when Victoria saw her and began telling her about how well a member of the Winter Court dances and how he never missed a beat. Irene concluded that Azriel could handle Rhysand; she would speak with him later that night.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“I’ll kill him for this, Irene.” He said her hand in his, as he pressed a kiss to each of her scorched fingers. “It’s basically healed and I’m not a reason for another war. But I appreciate the sentiment.”

“It wasn’t a joke, his days have been numbered since he left Mor for dead.” Irene pursed her lips, “hey, tomorrow we go back home and we can forget this happened. Let’s just say that for us, the trip ended this afternoon at the beach.” She leaned in and kissed his lips, then his cheeks and then she kissed down his neck. Rhysand groaned and Irene could feel the vibrations as she continued to kiss his chest, unbuttoning his shirt along the way.

He stopped her, putting his hand on her chin and lifting her face to meet his gaze. “I swear to you, if he ever hurts you again, I will kill him.” Irene furrowed her brows as she felt a tingle along her ribs. “Why would you swear something like that?” Her heart sped up.

A bargain was not unimportant and Rhsyand had just chosen to mark both of their bodies with the promise of retribution. If he was willing to leave a mark so permanent… maybe her feelings were not as one sided as she thought. Maybe he loved her too.

“Because I can’t stand to see him getting away with hurting the people I care about.” A pang in her chest brought her back to reality. He cared about her, she adored him. It was not the same.

“Right, well, hopefully for him he never sees me again,” she forced a laugh, then a yawn. “It’s been a long day, Rhys, I should get some sleep.” He nodded, stood from her bed and left with a kiss goodnight.

Irene finished packing the trunks she had barely riffled through and went to the apartment dining room for breakfast. She was the last one to sit down, everyone else was already halfway done with their food. “Good morning,” she greeted. While it was thrilling to be out of Velaris for the first time, she missed her home dearly. She missed the stables, the horses, the libraries, the priestesses, the dance lessons, her room... She did not miss the biting cold however, and would be sad to say goodbye to the warm weather. Even if she did not enjoy sweating, it was better than being halfway frozen anytime she stepped outside.

The table grumbled a collective “morning.” Irene made herself a plate and sat down. She stiffened when the High Lord walked in, he did not usually join them for meals. “Vallier,” he said her name in a way that made her cringe. “Yes, sir?”

He remained standing. “Are you ready to go?” She scrunched her brows and answered “I just finished packing everything.”

“Very well, take her away.” Irene’s eyes bulged as two guards dressed in orange and green uniforms rushed into the dining room.

“What is going on?” Celene asked, standing from her chair. The High Lord motioned with his hand for the guards to go on. They grabbed each of Irene’s arms, yanking her from her seat. “Beron has been pestering me about a bride ever since Morrigan soiled herself. So I’m getting him-” he pointed to Irene now “and her off my back.”

“What?” This time it was Victoria, “you can’t just sell her off. It 's not right-” He silenced her with a snap of his fingers and she scratched against her throat as she attempted to fight back, but her powers were no match against a High Lord’s.

Rhysand and his mother shared a look “she’s a member of this court-” but then he was silenced too. “She is not a member of the court, she is property of it and I have determined this is the best use of her.”

Celene asked, “Who is her betrothed?”

“I believe it is the oldest Vanserra.”

Irene had no words. None. Nothing she could say to stop it from happening. Nothing she could say to encapsulate the way her heart had sunk to her stomach. How Cassian and Azriel had paled. How Victoria’s eyes were red and watery as she watched Irene be dragged from the table. How Rhysand seemed to be paralyzed, only his erratic blinking an indication of distress.

She remained silent all the way from the apartments to the landing balcony, where nine fae, all with red hair, were waiting.

Waiting for her.

Beron looked her up and down, assessing.

“She’ll do,” he said. Eris strode over to her and grabbed her arm with a too warm hand. She made to pull away, to run and scream for help. But his grasp was firm.

Before she could shout they were already in Autumn.

taglist: @sidthedollface2 @acourtofbatboydreams

#acomaf #acowar #acotar #acofas #acotar fanfiction #acosf #azriel shadowsinger #rhysand #lucien vanserra #eris x oc #eris vanserra #eris acotar #mor #cassian acotar #cassian #night court #azriel acotar #azriel #summer court

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glystenangel · 2 years ago

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the dark of night & the light of day✨

ServiceDom!Getou x PillowPrincess&Afab!Reader (Historical AU)

Series Summary: getou isn't the caring type, but he can be for you

Chapters: 2/3

Chapter Summary: getou can't sleep, but he finds out he's not alone in that

Status: Completed

Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI, here we gooooo, seggs😔, fingering, pussydrunk!getou, teasing, degradation + praise, getou being a smug lil phuck, penetrative & unprotected sex, cum eating, "just the tip", cockwarming, stockholm syndrome, d/s, cussing, etc etc.

~2.6k

thanks for reading and enjoy<3

Ch. 2 - Obsession & Imagination

_________________

Embarrassment is what he should have felt while lightly knocking on your door in the middle of the night and panting from stress, but the only thing coursing through his veins is suppressed agitation at how long you’re taking.

He cracks his neck with a sigh, he knows he’s being irrational.

But, you couldn’t have been that deep of a sleeper.

Getou raises his fist again to knock, and his hand stops millimeters before the wooden surface when he hears it.

A moan.

Your angelic, sweet little moan.

It’s almost so imperceptible of a sound that he may have missed it, had he not been waiting for some semblance of you being awake.

As if in perfect timing, he hears a louder one.

And it’s his name.

Not one thing could distract Getou from his initial motivation more than that. The door gives away under his palms, and his haughty gaze meets your glazed one as you look up in surprise at Getou’s presence in your doorway.

The sight of you, disheveled and quietly panting under your breath as a hand is delicately poised between your nearly bare, widespread legs, is absolutely maddening. Getou couldn’t decide if he had been cursed or blessed by the vision before him.

Examining your bashful expression and the way your sleeping gown petals around your thighs, he accepts that it may be a bit of both.

For a moment, all you can hear is each other’s stunned breathing.

Then, Getou cautiously slides the paper door shut behind him, and a satisfied smirk comes across his features when he feels it click into the doorframe behind his fingertips. Upon pulling his hand away, he faintly recognizes the slight tremor running through him as excitement.

“Am I interrupting something important?” His voice is a rich velvet sugared with mocking.

You shake your head and try to close your legs together, “N-no, master.”

He allows his knees to nestle into the cushiony surface of your futon with a sneer.

“You’re not a good liar at all. Though that doesn’t surprise me.”

Despite his coarse words, Getou barely resists touching you, choosing to tap at a spot by your calf.

“You were calling for me. Tell me why.” He states simply, matter of fact with a noticeable tightness in his throat.

You seem to consider the statement, jutting your chin up to part your lips and speak when Getou narrows his eyes.

“Don’t try to lie to me either. It won’t work.”

A battle seems to ensue in your mind, and Getou allows the silence to tense before you mumble, “I was imagining something. Something with you in it. I’m sorry.”

Shame dusts your confession, but oh is it delicious to Getou’s ears.

The war hardened man doesn’t take his eyes off of you for a second, and a cute whimper escapes your throat when he wraps a hand around each ankle to tug you down to the end of the futon.

“And now?”

The same pleading look from when you first met dowses your features, an expression both tempting and tragic.

“I’m afraid I might be imagining even more.”

All air leaves his chest, and Getou then drags his fixed stare to the obvious wet sheen forming between your legs. Your wanton fluids are heavy and thick there, and drool pools underneath his tongue at finding further evidence of your attempted masturbation session. Even when you try to cover your arousal, Getou gently moves your hands aside.

He trails his hands up your legs, and he uses the back of his knuckles on one hand to stroke over your puffed up pussy.

“Were you having fun then? Playing with yourself like that?”

You don’t even have a chance to answer, as he hooks his fingers into the center of your panties and tugs down, hard.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you stop. Did I ruin the mood?” Getou tilts his head, relishing your delighted gasp when he slides two fingers over your tender folds.

“Looks like I didn’t at all.” He confirms in a whisper, voice brimming with awe.

Playing with your slick, he swirls the heady precum all over, experimentally pressing and rubbing the pads of his fingers all over your entrance. He likes the way you squirm your hips and arch your back to catch his fingers where you want him the most.

“You heard me knocking didn’t you? Knew I’d come in and see you like this. You’re a pervert, huh? It’s cute. I like it.” Getou’s increasingly staggered breaths hit your wobbly bottom lip as he starts pushing a finger in.

He doesn’t know what kind of response you’ll have, but he’s willing to find out.

“You’re so wet. Fucking filthy. What’s the matter? Something happen? Hm?”

Getou sinks his finger further in, and when he’s knuckle deep inside of you he nearly chokes when you squeeze yourself around the pale digit. You feel tight and warm.

A shaky breath leaves him as he pulls his finger out, the memory of your pussy around it making him desperate enough to push in another finger before he begins gliding them in and out at a consistent speed.

“G-Getou. Ng, ah!”

At your whine, he pauses. He liked the noise you just made, and he wonders if he can make you do it again. He swirls the tips of his fingers upwards, brushing against the same spot that made you moan out in pleasure.

“Feeling is so much better than imagining, isn’t it?”

Your eyes are fixated on his, and you weakly pinch the clothing over his chest between your knuckles.

“It is, it is.”

“You like it here?” He nudges his nose against yours, looks at your eyes intently as they lose focus.

“Y-yes. Oh, yes, yes, yes!” Your words devolve into stuttered cries as Getou speeds up, his fingers dipping into your core more and more rapidly.

Your mouth falls open and he can feel you twitching erratically around his appendages, it’s so good.

“Dirty girl. I’ll give you exactly what you want.” He mutters, and all you can do is wordlessly open your mouth as your hips buck into his busy hand.

You’re beautiful like that, he thinks to himself, eyebrows scrunched together and tongue freely lolling out with drippy spit from his fingers vigorously fucking into your wet hole.

He couldn’t wait to make you even more beautiful, to make you cum right in his palm. Getou got a sick sense of pride from seeing you in such a vulnerable state, and knowing that it was because of him and him alone.

Your legs are shaking now, and a high pitched squeal escapes you as you cum splatters on his fingers. Getou shoves every drop back in, and you cry out from the sting of aftershocks as he slaps the creamy substance over your entrance.

As you calm down from your high, Getou kneels lower into the middle of your widespread legs to observe your face closely, drinking in your shudders and the remaining mewls stuck in your throat. He doesn’t want to admit he’s captivated by the tears resting on your eyelashes, the indistinct breaths dewed with moisture.

The damp darkness of your tongue behind your lips is barely visible, so he reaches his fingers in, shuddering when you dazedly run the crude point of your tongue along his knuckles. Then you start automatically sucking on the appendages, frothy spit pooling between Geto’s fingers and dribbling down your chin.

He bites the inside of his cheek, slowly reaching down to undo the tented fabric of his pants and undergarments.

As soon as the leaking tip of his cock catches on the cool air of your room, he rolls his shoulders back and slips his fingers out from your mouth.

He looks at the clear, lusty bubbles of saliva running over the lines of his palm, and then uses it to smear the liquid-your liquid- over the sides and tip of his hardened cock.

“You can help me now.” Getou says with a barely concealed groan, “I need more.”

You nod, obedient as ever, and Getou adores the way your bottom lip is already indented from you biting down on it.

He lowers his hips, and smirks when he seats his cock on top of your soaked pussy. You manage to stay still, though he doesn’t fail to notice the way your breathing falters and your pussy folds pulse in an overly eager attempt to pull him in faster. The diffused breaths swim over the swells of your chest, raising goosebumps there and making your stomach rise and fall erratically. You could definitely fit him entirely. He wonders how you’ll take him. Though he supposes he should only do the tip, he was probably already going too fast.

At that thought, Getou places a hand on your stomach, “Look at me.”

You trail your heady stare up from his wrist to his forearm, and then to his shoulder and finally the tense expression on his face.

“You can touch me.” He finds himself saying, though he almost doesn’t recognize his own voice.

It’s raspy and commanding, but with an undercurrent of desperation he’s not used to when giving orders.

A hesitant blink of your eyes, and then you reach down to close your fist around the tip of his cock. You press your forefinger to the tip of your thumb, rotating it and biting your lip when his precum spills out from your touch. It collects in the folds of your fingers, transparent and glistening. Steadily, you explore the entire length, and all Getou can do is tighten his abdominal muscles until he can’t accept the sensation of only your hand anymore.

“Okay,” Getou asserts, in that rough voice he slowly begins to accept as his, “Let me put it in.”

You let go, lapping up the remaining fluid and meeting his gaze when you finish. The reciprocated want in your eyes makes his stomach twitch.

Getou maintains the eye to eye connection, using his other hand to hold your hip as he lines up his cock up to your entrance before finally pushing in the flared head of his cock.

Both of you simultaneously moan out a foul noise that becomes permanently etched into Geto’s brain.

You feel good. Better than good. You feel like good fucking pussy. The best fucking pussy he ever felt.

That couldn’t be though. Getou leans his hips back, fighting every instinct to envelope the thudding tip of his cock back in until the precum oozing out of its slit is visible again.

The curve of his tanned cock is rigid, the adrenaline surging through him obvious from the substantially thick veins wrapping around his girth. He lets the veins get coated with your excitement as he prods at your entrance, following the folds of your center with the hungry end of his dick. The squish of your sex is audible, along with your heightened breaths.

It’s so good.

Getou can sense the drool under his tongue and the sheer pleasure thickly stuck between his thighs.

It’s so good. It’s so good.

“I’m putting more in.” He confesses, already breathless as he keenly hunches over and clasps your hands in his.

You nod, eyes squeezed closed, but immediately intertwine his fingers with your own.

Getou restrains himself as much as possible, a drawn out groan leaving him as he sinks halfway into your sopping walls.

It’s not enough.

He bucks his hips, the section of cock he doesn’t allow to be engulfed by your wetness becoming smaller and smaller. Control becomes less of a priority as your mouth drops open with heady gasps.

Too good. The best.

Getou grinds into your hips to force himself to pause for a moment, but it only makes him lose further focus.

Then, he feels your nails lightly digging into his shoulder blades, and your whisper hot in his ear.

“More. All of it. Please, Getou.”

Fuck.

Without another thought Getou plunges his cock completely in, and when he does he can’t fathom how he ever assumed he could resist. The sloppy, gummy squeeze of your sex is deliciously slick and dripping all over his dick.

“Yeah? You like that, pretty girl?”

You can’t answer, lips parted silently and brows knitted together.

Thoughts no longer flood his mind, carnal need taking over as he starts fucking you like he wants to. Like he’s always wanted to, he acknowledges. Fast, deep, and hard.

The entire act is indescribably lewd, and the squelching of your cunt around Getou has him going insane. He fucking loves it. He loves you for letting him fuck you into the mattress and opening your pretty little pussy up to him.

He thrusts deeper in, hammering into you with heated swears that you repeat back in nonsensical mewls. Getou can’t believe that you haven’t climaxed again yet, it was at least two or three times for him by now, though he wasn’t so far gone that he failed to notice your satisfaction plateauing. Didn’t you know how much he needed your cum on his cock? He must not have been doing a good enough job.

That wasn’t going to happen ever again.

He reaches down and starts rubbing at your clit, noting how your body jolts from his touch there and how you tighten around him as he continues devoting loving attention to the swollen bud. The frenzy of movement is urgent, and your back arches higher from the added friction.

You’re delirious underneath him, and even when your vision clouds with bliss and you finally cum, he doesn’t stop until you’re screaming from the waves of pleasure hitting you over and over again. Wild want drives Getou, his hips and hand failing to cease as his cock swims through your syrupy wetness.

He wants you to keep cumming, wants so badly to ensure that he’s giving you the best fuck of your life as he mindlessly drives his dick forward over and over again.

The entire room rattles as he rams his cock inside you, your pussy stuttering around his cock as you try not to whimper into the distracted kisses you give him.

Once you can’t take it anymore, you clutch at Getou’s wrist with both of your hands to get him to stop. As soon as he feels your tremulous plead, he slows down, dragging his cock to a stop.

“Okay, it’s okay.” He exhales, voice soft to acknowledge your overstimulated state.

Getou bites his lip at your pussy throbbing dully around him, but he knows you’re exhausted and he wants to be certain that you’re well rested for tomorrow. He wouldn’t be able to sleep soundly himself knowing if he was selfish and didn’t put your desires first. After all, you always did as he said, so he should extend you the same grace.

He keeps his cock in place, but doesn’t move aside from shifting you to lay on his chest. He just likes the feeling of you wrapped around him.

“I’ll stop. Don’t worry.” His whisper is a feather on your cheek, and he kisses the top of your head with greater affection than he realized he had for you.

Maybe he was in love.

“Thank you, master.” You kiss his cheek and serenely tuck your face against his neck, your quivering breaths eventually loosening into sleepy nothings.

Getou laces his hands behind your waist, snuggling into your warmth and deeply inhaling your scent. He can feel your heart beating against his chest, your relaxed rhythm matching his own. When he closes his eyes, he can hardly distinguish your heartbeat from his. It feels the same, like you share one heart.

“Fuck.” He grumbles.

He is in love.

_________________

End Notes:

had to get this out of my system after seeing him in that slutty red hawaiian shirt for the 1894584 billionth time yk the one🙄❤️

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cricketnationrise · 10 months ago

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Congratulations on 500!!! 🎉🎉 Extremely well deserved!

How about Zahra, 9:37pm, somewhere in England (I leave where exactly entirely up you)?

I'm on ao3 as hwaelweg 💙

for you my lovely, I have a lil date night moment for Zahra and Shaan. hope you love it, and thanks for being AMAZING and screaming about books with me 💜🦗

want your own ficlet? my followers can submit prompts based on these guidelines through January 31, 2024

❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙

9:37pm, london

Zahra looks around from her perch at the bar. The pub is all dark wood and the smell of decades of smoke sunk into the furniture. It’s the most stereotypical English pub she could ever have pictured, and she’d never admit it out loud, but she fucking loves it. There’s classic rock playing quietly over the speakers, often drowned out by the laughter of the group of students in one corner. A pair of old men, who look like they might be part of the architecture, are putting away more Guinness than she’s ever seen in one sitting. Someone’s playing darts near the back, for fuck’s sake.

She’d love the place even more if her goddamn fianceé was here with her, but she of all people understands an unconventional working schedule. Especially when the Claremont-Diaz family is even tangentially involved. If she had a nickel for everytime she dismissed that little annoying popup in Outlook that says “Send during normal working hours instead?” she’d be set for life.

“Another round, dear?”

“I—” A buzz from her phone interrupts and she glances at it, heart giving an excited little wriggle when she sees Shaan’s name pop up. (Well actually he’s saved as “Shawn S” in her phone—a preventative measure against overly-curious June, never-me-a-boundary-he-didn’t-try-to-cross Alex, and too-smart-for-her-own-good Nora. She’ll change it once Ellen’s second term ends and she doesn’t have to interact with those assholes in person on a regular basis. (Shaan had laughed so hard he cried when he found out—Zahra had hit him with a pillow.))

5 minutes. See you soon, love.

>move that perfect ass srivastava >i miss you and stuff

“Sorry about that,” she says to the bartender, a no-nonsense older woman. She runs the pub with kindness hiding an iron fist and Zahra liked her from the moment she sat down. “I will take another round, and can I also get a whiskey ginger?”

“Jack Daniels okay?”

“Yeah, that’s perfect.”

Another burst of screaming laughter covers the tinkle of the bell above the door, but the chilly gust of air at her back makes Zahra turn around. The smile that stretches her mouth at the sight of Shann is soft, loving, and completely involuntary. Thank fucking god Alex isn’t here right now. He’d never let her hear the end of how sappy she looks right now. (Alex once tried to high-five her for locking down that suave motherfucker and Zahra had given him a look that made him hide behind Henry.)

“Everything sorted then?” she asks, tipping her face up to meet Shaan’s. He kisses her quickly and sits on the stool next to her.

“Yeah. I finally got a hold of Gavin so that Alex can “sneak out” to the V&A with Henry tonight.”

“Thank god. Now I won’t have to listen to him freak out about the logistics of proposing anymore.”

Shaan just raises an eyebrow as he sips his drink. “He’ll just bother you about wedding details instead.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

“I am sorry I kept you waiting tonight.”

Zahra tips her head onto Shaan’s shoulder. “I’ve done it to you enough times. I get it.”

Shaan slings the hand not holding his glass around her waist. Zahra can feel the warmth of him even through their layers of clothing and slumps a little further into his space, utterly trusting him to keep them both upright. They stay like that for a while, not talking, just basking in the fact that they are together and free of their charges for the night. So often they are only in the same country because of some international policy issue. Zahra lets herself sink into the moment, reveling in the rare chance to just sit quietly at a bar with the man she loves.

“This is a good spot. Cozy. Quaint,” she eventually says, gesturing vaguely at their surroundings.

“I’m glad you think so. It’s one of my favorite pubs in London.” He hesitates, eyes distant, then drops his voice and continues. “Arthur and Catherine used to sneak out and come here on dates, actually.”

“Oh?” Zahra sits up so she can look at him properly. He doesn’t talk about the time he was Arthur’s equerry that often, and she doesn’t want to miss anything. From what he has said, she can tell it was a similar relationship to the one she has with Ellen. Close friendship, fierce protectiveness, and a hold-nothing-back, bantering sense of humor—closer to family than employee and employer.

“They’d put on casual clothes and ballcaps and make a break for it when her mother got particularly overbearing. I followed discreetly—”

“Of course.”

“To make sure they had a back up plan. And then once Catherine got pregnant, they stopped pretending they didn’t know I was there and invited me to join them. The three of us spent many a late night here, just talking.”

“Sounds great.”

“It was. I—I miss him a lot. But it’s been a pleasure to watch Henry grow into himself. He’s more like Arthur than even he knows.”

He falls silent again, and Zahra smiles at the soft look on his face. He really is disgustingly handsome, people should be absurdly jealous of her life. She kisses the side of his neck, unable—unwilling—to hold in her affection any longer.

“Take me home?” she asks. “I want to not be wearing clothes with a zipper any more.”

“I’d be delighted, Ms. Bankston.”

#cricket writes #ficlet fest 500 #rwrb #zahra bankston #shaan srivastava #otp: weaponized competence #thoughtsofthegirlwiththecurl #also some Arthur feels snuck in there #just crept in while I was looking the other way #whoops

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ladylooch · 1 year ago

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YOU ARE AMAZING OH MY GOD I can just imagine when they officially find out

-🌸 anon

When Lexi and Nico did this. Then had this 🥰🥰

Nico is making dinner for the two of us while I sit, locked away in the bathroom waiting for two minutes to be up. Two minutes until we know if our lives are changing forever. Two minutes until we have the answer that's been rushing through my mind at all hours of the night. Two monumental minutes Nico doesn't even realize are passing while he cuts up tomatoes in the kitchen.

Two minutes until....

In the oval, is one distinct line. But a second, fainter one is beginning to bleed through as the liquid rushes through the test. My lips purse, eyes tearing as I watch that thin line thicken into a big fat positive.

I'm pregnant.

I grab the test, clutching it in my shaking hand as I walk into the kitchen.

"Hey baby, do you want croutons on..." Nico trails off, staring at my fist hanging by my thigh. His eyes meet mine in hopeful shock.

"Made you a daddy." I choke out, holding it up so the two lines are visible to him.

Nico crosses the remaining space to me. We embrace, hard, arms clutching at each other as he lifts me up, spinning me around.

"Let me see." He looks at the test in my hand as I hook my ankles together at his lower back."Lex..." He grins, excitement shining in his brown eyes. "I love you." He shakes his head like he doesn't know how to possibly put into words what this means to him. To us. And I agree.

"I love you too, Neeks. I am so thankful we are doing this together. No one else I wanna have babies with." I kiss his mouth repeatedly between every few words. He sighs in content agreement. He puts me back on my feet and we hug longer, swaying in the kitchen as soft music encourages us to pause.

"I'm gonna ask the equipment guys to make a lil Devils jersey tomorrow."

"Babe, no, we can't tell anyone yet." He wrinkles his nose.

"We can tell Emma and Timo. I knew about Lio right away." I pause, considering.

"Let's go to the doctor first. We should make sure." His sweet smile encapsulates home as he looks at me. "Then we can."

"Raising our babies together..." He chuckles, squeezing my hips excitedly.

"They're gonna be besties. I can feel it." I wiggle my way into his chest more, happy to avoid the world in Nico's arms a little longer, dreaming about our baby.

#nico hischier #nico hischier blurb #what my world spins around au #🌸 anon

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finniestoncrane · 2 years ago

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Hi ☺️ ☺️

Can I ask for Arkham Edward and his girlfriend are getting ready for a party and she asks him to help her put her corset on, and she climbs on his lap and starts talking about how excited she is to have been invited for this party, but Eddie gets lost touching her waist....

like in this video: https://pin.it/1YvPnSQ

nsfw pls🥰🥰

Tight

Arkham!Riddler x Female!Reader, word count: 800 yeah you may lmao this was... urgh that video sent me over the edge a lil bit ngl and i'm sorry i kinda gave eddie a bit of a shibari/restraints kink a lil bit so... oops? request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw for nsfw stuff: if you are a bit worried about mentions of restraints and rope stuff then steer clear? and there's also some imagination on eddie's part of sex and aftercare

Holding the laces of your loosely fitted corset in your hand you entered the bedroom, smiling and raising your eyebrows at Eddie who waited patiently on the edge of the bed. Dressed smartly in a suit, and a clean one at that he looked peaceful, patient. Once again dwelling on the surface, he had learned to ease up, to allow himself pleasures and care beyond satisfying his urge for revenge. And one such pleasure he delighted in was dressing you. It was a guarantee that he wouldn’t turn down your request for assistance, and he nodded, curling a slender finger and drawing you closer to him.

Standing before him, you felt his hands graze over your forearms, his palms still calloused from his strenuous and dedicated work, his grip soft on you as he pulled you closer, fitting you between his legs as he took the laces from you in either hand.

His smile was warm, but mischievous, reminiscent of the smirk you had grown to love. With the laces wound around his fist, he pulled tight, a quick tug that brought forth a sharp gasp from your mouth. Silencing it with his lips on yours, a quick, but sweet gesture, he pulled the laces again. This time, slower, languid stretching his arms to the side, the tightening accentuating your shape, your curves. It was difficult for him to ignore.

Eddie’s hands dropped the laces, falling to the smallest curve, his fingers reaching to your back as his thumbs stroked back and forth along the sides of your waist. Smoothing over your waist, his hands moved up and down before they fell to your hips. You could feel him, ever so slightly, let his fingers sink in, gripping softly at your flesh as he pressed his nose to your cheek, mouth open, his shallow, begging breaths loud in your ear.

You leant in to him, fingers pulling on the bottom of his tie before they slid up it, tightening the knot slightly before you let them dance around to the back of his neck, holding him close as he kissed you, tongue delicately flitting over his lips to lap at you, teeth tentatively taking hold of the sensitive skin before realising that he couldn’t leave a mark, not anywhere visible at least, and not now.

He spoke as he kissed you, and your head was thrown back at the hushed tones, the growling whispers.

“It will never be familiar, the sensation of something soft under my control. Of trussing you up under sturdy materials, only to loosen you up at the end of the evening. Very rarely did I get to untie my own hostages.”

His hands cupped at your ass, fingers digging into your cheeks as you laughed, grabbing them through the fabric of your skirt, lifting it gently, but dropping it, afraid of how late you might be to the party were he to give in to his temptations, his desires. You were held so close to him that you shifted into his lap, legs on either side of his as he held you close. He was vaguely aware of your voice, that you were speaking to him, but there was nothing in his mind but your body, warm against him. Shaking himself out of it, he lifted you off of him, intent on giving you his full attention.

With a final kiss to your cheek, he turned you around, focused on lacing you up, kissing the final knot at your lower back before he trailed his fingers along the looping and crossing pattern of the ropes, a familiar act, but one that was far less villainous, though it seemed in his mind just as deviant and erotic. But he could let the thoughts dance wildly through his mind, replacing his capabilities for logic with only the ability to picture you completely at his mercy.

Restrained and at his will, a hostage to his sexual desire, his want, his need, to bury his cock within your walls and claim you, inside and out. For you to be complicit, willing, only too happy to be his entirely. Wanton, desperate, as you begged for more. Your wrists and ankles secured with soft silken ropes, your middle bound by your corset, all of it his doing, his fingers creating the ties that bound you.

But rather than some foolish hero breaking in and setting you free, it would be Eddie who would save you. His mouth, delicate as he kissed at any pain from your restraints as his cum dripped out of you, marked by him in every way.

He suppressed the thoughts. And even though it was painful for him to withhold his hedonistic tendencies, the way you smiled at him, thanked him for his help as you left the apartment, ensured him that you were very much his willing hostage.

#finnie writes #arkham riddler #arkham edward nigma #riddler x reader #arkhamverse riddler #the riddler #arkhamverse #riddler #the riddler imagine #riddler smut #the riddler fanfic #riddler fanfic #riddler x you #edward nigma x reader #edward nigma #arkham!riddler #the riddler fanfiction #arkham!verse

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thisfeelingyourname · 9 months ago

Text

knife twist.

they've really gotta stop meeting like this.

bill kaulitz x roman reigns smut. | 1.3k words | minors dni

cw: post break up sex, fluff, dirty talk, a lil angst. 🥰

"Is it a good thing that I called you back?" Bill asks this with a smile, a genuine innocence about it, brown eyes settling on the slow form of a smirk curving on Roman's face, both men laying side by side on the lush bed of what seems like Roman's millionth hotel room. This all feels so familiar to the both of them, this kind of being together. Neither of them want to wonder where it all went wrong, not right now, this moment is too sweet for that. Roman lifts a gentle hand, softens it against the warmth of Bill's cheek, caressing it.

The gesture moves Bill to close his eyes, butterflies swelling up wild in his chest. "Look at me, baby," Roman says quietly, other hand finding itself up beneath the slip of Bill's sleep shirt, goosebumps flowering up into his touch. This is too good, too tender and Bill wonders amusedly when the bad twin is going to show up, grinning and wicked. They look at one another again and the fire snakes down between them, need splitting them delicately open.

Roman never answers him, not that Bill cared to hear what he had to say anyway. He likes his mouth hot against his much better, kissing and kissing and kissing him, his fingers scouring themselves through blond strands. It's better this way, Roman wasn't much of the talk it out type when they first met. "I can show you way better than I can tell you, baby boy," he would always say, superstar flash of a smile and a kiss to the crown of Bill's head. The golden boy act would be enough to settle the first upset, then the second, then the third, but somewhere between the fourth, the tenth and the final upset it lost its charm.

They love each other, though.

Bill knows that. Roman knows that, too. They are doomed together, from the body to the bone. Roman realized that later than sooner, but wanted to make peace with Bill after the fact, inviting him to meet up with him after one of his shows. He wasn’t surprised to see that he agreed, showing up at his door soon after. "So you're a bad guy now," Bill had said with a wry smile, chin cradled in the palm of his hand as he sits on the hotel bed, watching the big dog bask in his newfound glory, the irony not lost on either of them. Glad his boy is still observant as ever Roman beamed, raised his arms in mock defeat, the glow of the evening sun crowning him like a king. "Art imitates life," he proclaims.

They share a laugh at that, the wound laughing right back at them.

The sex is divine, so fucking good it feels like both of them have died and gone to heaven. Roman can't remember the last time he's gotten head this great before. Bill is doing all of the right things, on the floor on his knees where he always should be, pretty lips slicked sweet with precome and saliva as he moans against Roman's dick, teasing his tongue stud along the shaft. The sensation swarms butterflies in Roman's belly, words of praise leaving breathlessly from his lips while he threads his fingers through Bill's hair, twisting and pulling at sensitive roots, the bed creaking as he slow rocks his hips against Bill's mouth. "So good… so fucking good, baby," he whispers, fingers still running lovingly through golden strands. Bill nods his head, fisting Roman's dick as he does his own after he lets Roman’s fall from his mouth with a wet pop, his heart bursting with pride. He dips his tongue stud on the slit, swirling it lazily around before bringing his dick into his mouth once more, love in his eyes when he looks up to see Roman watching him, beautiful and proud. It nearly brings him to tears.

The bad twin finally arrives and Bill is excited to see him, happily flat on his back and anxious, his toes curling and his heart pounding with anticipation as he watches Roman get onto the bed, all of that muscle and body and god looming over him like fate. This isn't something they can run from anymore, they are each other's end game. It works for Roman who seats himself between Bill's spread legs, his gaze lost in that beautiful place before he forces himself to look at Bill, love still pretty in his eyes and he leans over to him and brings a kiss to his lips, lingering and kind. "'m gonna fuck you now, okay?" he murmurs, his gaze steady with Bill’s own. "'kay," Bill whispers, entire body throbbing with ache.

It feels like coming home when Roman pushes into him for the first time, Bill's head falling gracefully back into the pillows, a blissful smile spread across his lips as Roman claims him, strong arms on either side of Bill, fucking into him until stars flicker in Bill's vision. It's unbearable, every nerve twisting up tight with pleasure and Bill fights to meet him with every move, grinding down on Roman's dick, his hips turning in time. Roman responds to him by slowing the pace, purposefully dragging his dick all the way out and then pushing back in, causing Bill to groan fitfully in frustration, rushing his hands through his hair as he swears through his teeth.

Roman smirks, feeling victorious and pleased with Bill's dramatics. "Gonna be a brat for me tonight, huh?" he teases, merciless and still managing the torturous rhythm between them. A venomous glare greets him then and Roman has the audacity to laugh aloud, leaning over to Bill once more to run his mouth over sweat slicked skin, kissing Bill's cheek, the crown of his head, the bump of his nose, his lips before Bill decides to be selfish, taking him in and locking his legs right around Roman's waist, keeping him there in that perfect place and the bad twin grins at that, wicked and free before Roman obliges, picking up the pace and burying himself balls deep inside of Bill, turning him out until he's a gorgeous mess of pleading and gasping and yes yes yes fuck me just like that.

The feeling of fucking Bill is absolutely euphoric to Roman, everything of him sinking into everything of Bill, burning and made to merge, the orgasm rising up higher and higher. Roman loves when Bill watches him fuck him, eyes wide open and brilliant, adoration pouring from his gaze, those pretty lips parted in awe. Then he says Roman's name so softly, repeats it like prayer, again and again as he fucks him harder, deeper like a domino effect, the ending between them always the same, Bill's nails scarring blood into Roman's back and Roman wincing through it, loving Bill through it until the orgasm hits and Bill falls beautifully apart, crying out for him, his body writhing up desperately into Roman's, riding out the high before Roman finishes up inside him, burying his face into the heat of Bill's throat, groaning, his body burning electric from release then he collapses on top of him, the buzz fleeing as quickly as it had arrived.

The room is silent then, nothing but the hum song of the air conditioner and the rise and fall of breathing. It's true intimacy, this moment, Bill's fingers idly scratching the back of Roman's neck in affection, other hand pressed flat against his back holding him close. His dick is still inside of him and neither of them wish to change that, Roman's face still resting in the crook of Bill's shoulder, lids shut in fatigue. "Love you, chief," Bill mumbles, sleepy voiced and glad. Roman draws in a breath and exhales, smiling against warm skin. "Love you too, baby boy."

And the wound stops laughing.

#writing.#wwe fanfiction #tokio hotel fanfic #bill kaulitz smut #roman reigns smut #roman reigns fanfiction #tokio hotel fic #wwe smut

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fruit-of-infidelity · 2 years ago

Note

The soles of his boots thudded and smushed against the grass as he traversed the Human Realm in the rain. Had he known the man he’d wish to see lived so far away, he would have forwent the trip and waited for the next time he visited the Demon Realm; especially since halfway through his walk it began to rain.

“ ‘Go ahead and deliver it to him’ he says, ‘It’ll check off one of your tasks.’ Check off a task, my ass. Carrying this much marble on my back in the rain could have waited.” Nero mumbled to himself, as he mocked the man who currently shelters him. Said person may as well have been a thorn is his side, as he shooed Nero out the door, package in hand. Thankfully he own a bag designed to be able to carry things like this, as long as they weren’t too big.

With the hood of his trench coat pulled over his head, they maneuvered their way away from the bustling city, and towards the neighbouring forests. Truth be told, the package they were carrying was only around five pounds, give or take, but they weren’t necessarily the active type… For a Vampire, they were quite weak.

The booming sounds of thunder and lighting pounded in the background, as Nero approached a rather haunting looking home.

“Wow, how original… This place just screams Vampire if you ask me…” He uttered, as he approached the grand looking doorway. ‘At least the architecture is beautiful…’ The visitor thought.

A mere few inches away from the entrance, the white haired individual raised his fist, giving the door firm rhythmic knocks, as he anticipated who would be the one to answer.

————

[ HIIIIIII AVAAAAA. NERO IS HEREEEEEEEEEE. and finally delivering the bust Richter ordered but never picked up 🙄 man got a statue of himself then decided not to take it 🙄 ANYWAY I HOPE THIS WAS OKAY SKSKSK. FEEL FREE TO ANSWER THIS WHENEVER!! OR FEEL FREE TO IGNORE IT 🫶 | @deciipula ]

// HIII WHINNNNN!! I'm so excited for these two to finally interact, but forgive the lil formal entrance with the servants, i thought it would be some fun SKSKSKSKS. BUT, when Ryuuto hears why Nero is here?? he probably wont be surprised his old man ordered a whole damn bust of himself 🙄😭 AAAA im so excited to interact!!!! <3 <3

Who, indeed... It appeared the answer to that came quicker than expected. A smartly-dressed - though in quite a plain variety of grey and blacks - and blind-folded man silently opened the door, noted the unfamiliar visitor, and sent another unseen person off.

"What is your business?"

Although not blocking the fair-headed persons entrance per se, the servant - as conveyed by the Sakamaki crest adorning his blazer upon a pin - assumed manners of them, regardless of how long their journey was, nor of how tired their feet may have been.

As quickly as he demanded a reason for their presence, however, the servant widened the entrance by stepping aside, despite Nero answering his question or otherwise; The flapping of a few bat wings, however, suggested this change of pace was an order.

"Wipe your feet before you enter, one of the Master's will be with your shortly," He shortly spoke, the darkness engulfing him as he turned back into the entryway of the manor.

#deciipula #nero #sakamaki ryuuto #ryuuto sakamaki #interaction #diabolik lovers oc #dialovers #diabolik lovers

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forthedancingandthethriving · 1 year ago

Text

(Context)

Just various scenes from the episodes leading up to the trailer! Also not my best work, I'll admit it, because I was struggling writing these scenes. But I am happy with it, so bleh :P

○●○

"Yknow, we could really use a vacation."

It's the simple remark from SMG4 that sparked the discussion. Everyone agreed, after the latest fiasco (everyone was still watching Lily to make sure she was recovering okay), a way to relax and unwind seemed like a good idea.

"Since we've saved enough money up," SMG4 says as he gestures his hand, "from, you know, not really being able to spend it, we should treat ourselves!"

"I think that's the smartest thing I've ever heard you say." SMG3 remarks, snickering at the small glare the other gives him.

"A vacation would be really nice.." Saiko hums, nodding.

"But where would we go?" Luigi asks.

The group devolves into discussion, everyone giving various places of where to go. Slowly, it begins to delve into an argument, before Meggy bursts through the castle doors, Tari in tow.

"Guys!" she gasps, pointing at her head. "Have any of you seen my beanie?"

Everyone looks between each other, unsure of how to answer the abrupt answer (especially after SMG4 suggested going to Pee Pee Island). Boopkins began to answer, but was cut off by Luigi lifting his phone. "Guys, why don't we go to the national celebrity museum!"

"I think Bowser is banned from there.." SMG4 crosses his arms, watching as Mario hits his brother and makes the green plumber's phone go flying.

"Bowser is gonna be coming?" Mario raises an eyebrow.

"Well, I was thinking of inviting Bowser Junior, and it'd just make sense to invite Bowser."

"Yay! Bowser Junior is coming!" Lily cheers from the couch.

"He still owes me 10 dollars for breaking our record yesterday!" Lil Coding huffs.

"What record?" SMG4 and SMG3 narrow their eyes at their son.

"Did I say record? I meant.. uh.." the Code chuckles nervously, glancing around before ducking behind the couch and lifting his head. "Yknow, I kinda like Luigi's idea now!"

Everyone resumes their arguing, with the question of Meggy's beanie long forgotten now.

○●○

"Alright, whos ready to go to Pee Pee Island?!"

No one looked particularly excited or happy, varying looks of displeasure on their faces.

"That's your son?" Domain mutters, looking at Forum.

"I have no son." Forum mutters in return, drawing a snort from his partner and a small laugh from Emulator.

"Papa, you can still break up with him. It isn't too late." Lil Coding remarks, glancing up at SMG3 whilst clutching his bag. Lily was beside him, lightly hitting her head against the book she brought.

"I can't believe that this is the place that we ended up deciding to go to." SMG3 grumbles, shaking his head.

As everyone neared the train, ready to board, Meggy's voice called. "HOLD IT!"

Everyone turned to look, seeing Meggy and Tari towards the end of the platform. Both were smiling, looking excited.

"We're NOT going to Pee Pee Island because.." Meggy grinned and pumped her fist into the air. "We'll be going to the Wild West!"

"What." Mario asks flatly.

"Meggy has a mission to find her idol." Tari explains with a smile. "And he's somewhere in the west!!"

It takes a moment, the girl's words registering, but then everyone cheers. "Yes!! Anything but Pee Pee Island!" SMG3 shouts.

"Hell yeah, I'm down to shoot some guns!" Bob adds on.

"Thank god, I don't have to disown SMG4." Forum whispers.

Boopkins muttered something to himself, but it was drowned out at everyone ran past him onto the train, excited to go anywhere but Pee Pee Island.

Though they were all unaware of a familiar masked villain hoping onto the back of the train as it pulled out of the station..

As everyone began to get settled in, Saiko realized something pretty important.

"Wait! Who's looking after the castle and Showgrounds while we're gone!?" she gasps.

"Don't worry, Marty's got it covered." Mario reassures her.

Everyone stares at him, clearly unimpressed.

Meggy rolls her eyes before clearing her throat. "Next stop... the Wild West!!"

○●○

Lily huffs to herself as she looks up Lil Coding, who was on her head, in his cat form. "LC, do you have to lay on my head?"

"It's comfier." he answers, but she knows it's just to annoy her.

She rolls her eyes and looks back down at her book. She wasn't particularly mad about it, Eggpup on her lap, but still. She'd like to read her book in peace.

But that was also a little hard when her dads were playing Uno in the seats behind, but hey, you win some you lose some.

She glances up, seeing Meggy and Mario walk by. If she had to guess.. they were going to the food cart.

She shrugs as Lil Coding jumps off of her head and lands in the seat opposite of her, more than likely curling up there as she couldn't see him anymore.

Lily hums and adjusts the collar of her shirt. Man, why did she chose to wear a dress on such a hot train?

○●○

Meggy balks as she walks into the next train car, seeing the absolute anarchy going on. Everyone, for some odd reason, was garbbed in wild west themed clothing, and Boopkins and Bob were in a gunfight with JubJub, Whimpu, Jeeves, Old Man Hobo, Rob, Shroomy, and Belle.

"What the.." she mutters, ducking behind the doorway.

"Are ya'll fucking idiots?!" Domain's voice shouts over the gunfire as he glares over the seats him, Forum, and Emulator were seated at, but none of them stop. "Ya'll are gonna break the goddamned windows, for christ's sake!"

"Get your head down!" Emulator scolds him yanking him back down.

Meggy purses her lips before walking into the cart, cupping her hands over her mouth, calling for Tari as she walk through the train cart, managing to not vet grazed by any bullets.

Maybe everyone was just.. getting into the theme of being in the wild west!

"What is going on?!" Meggy whispers to herself, having entered the cart she and Tari had been in before her blue haired friend went missing. She'd found the gamer in the food cart, talking about how something wasn't right. Naturally, she just assumed that her friend was getting train sick.

So she returned to their original cart, but now.. it was absolute chaos in there. The only ones not doing something were Lily and Lil Coding, still in their seats, but both of them were egging everyone else on. Everyone seemed to have been.. cowboyifed or something.

"Always knew my old man would need a cane!" Lil Coding grins as Meggy slowly walks over, and she's taken aback by how everyone seems to have changed their appearance in some way. Hell, Lily was wearing a westerned themed dress, and Lily didn't even like wearing dresses.

"You're a right old jerk, you know that?" Lily remarks, crossing her arms.

"I'm still right!" he laughs.

Meggy watches as Lily rolls her eyes and reaches over, smacking her brother over the head. It quickly escalates to Lil Coding leaping over the table and the two shuffling.

"This ain't no way to treat a lady!" Lily shrieks.

"Oh, don't pull that shit, little missy!" Lil Coding huffs.

Meggy runs her fingers through her hair, eyes wide. Nothing she's saying is getting through to them and-

Oh great, SMG3 had dynamite, and now everyone was freaking out (well, except for Mario, but he was Mario).

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!" Meggy shouts, eyes closing for a minute before she opens them again.

Her breath catches in her throat, seeing everyone frozen in place. "Uh.. hello?"

She walks down the aisle, looking at everyone. Waving her hands, asking questions, but no one moves. No one talks.

Her breathing starts to quicken before-

"Meggy?"

Meggy gasps, looking towards the cart door and she rushes over. "Oh Tari, thank god! Everyone's frozen!"

Concern takes over Tari's expression. "...what?"

Meggy turns around to see.. everyone is back in their seats. Her heart skips a beat, seeing even Lil Coding acting like nothing had just happened.

"Meggy?" Tari asks again, but squeaks softly as Meggy rushes past her to look into the other car.

It was back to normal in there as well. She quickly dashes over to the hologram trio, seeing even them acting like nothing had happened. Hell, Domain and Emulator were even playing some sort of game.

"Meggy?" Forum raises an eyebrow, seeing her and then Tari. "Is something wrong?"

"Did- Did you guys not see what was happening?!" she asks, breathing quickly still.

"See what?" Forum's face becomes a bit serious as he sits up in his seat.

"E-Everyone being frozen! A-and acting like cowboys!" Meggy frowns, gesturing wildly.

"Meggy, I think you're just tired." Tari places a hand on her shoulder. "If something did happen, I think they'd know.."

Meggy goes quiet before sighing and nodding, hands dropping. Forum nods as well.

"None of us felt anything wrong, Meggy. Trust me, if there was something wrong, we'd get you guys off this train." he reassures her.

With one last nod, Meggy follows Tari back to their original cart. Forum watches them before exhaling, rubbing his eyes.

"Tired still?" Emulator asks, not looking up from her and Domain's game, grinning victoriously when she bests him again.

"Yeah." Forum chuckles softly. "Never had to ride a train before, so I think it's messing with me."

He glances back towards the other cart before shaking his head. No, it was like he had just said. It was fatigue. If something was wrong, the three of them would know.

#usb: smg3 #usb: smg4 #emulator #smg4 #smg3 #saiko bichitaru #bob bobowski #oc: lily #code: lil coding #smg4 mario #smg4 luigi #meggy spletzer #smg4 tari #I am NOT tagging everyone in this #just the ones who spoke #!posts!#fanfiction: my writing!#AYYYY FINALLY #anyway 14 hours left!! i am absolutely terrified!! /pos

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