#Lips Alexus | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

masamihanazawa · 1 year

Text

Problem Patient

Timing: Later tonight Location: Paws & Claws clinic Parties: @mortemoppetere & @masamihanazawa Trigger Warnings: Head Trauma

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. “Fuck.” Masami sat in his chair staring at the stranger in the bed, listening to the infernal clock thinking he really should have upgraded to a digital one at this rate. It always managed to get on his nerves when he was forced to watch over a patient at night. Especially when this one was a complete stranger having been dumped on him by one of his regulars. Normally the vanilla scented cigarettes would have chilled him out some, but the man in front of him had come in a rather beat up state. Masami had forced Alexus to clean up the blood in the exam room before sending the tired woman home, but the memory of having to stitch up the idiot in front of him was still fresh and the only thing to distract him was the infernal clicking of the clock.

Masami smushed another cigarette into the tray and pulled a fresh one from his pack before putting his eyes back on the stranger, “You can stop acting like you’re sleeping, I can hear the shift in your breathing.” He muttered out as he placed the cigarette between his lips, using an old beat up lighter to get it going and taking a long drag. “Tell me how you feel. If it isn’t like shit then leave.” He wasn’t sure how the other could feel alright, Masami had only given him a small dose of pain meds enough to get him to relax through the stitching and cleaning just in case he ended up having a bad reaction. It was always a gamble using meds when you didn’t know the patient's allergies, humans always were trickier to fix up than the average shapeshifter.

—

Things went to shit in detective work about as often as they went to shit in slayer work. Emilio wasn’t sure if other P.I.s had this many problems or if he was a special brand of unlucky, but it was never really a surprise when he found himself all beat to shit. In this case, however, he could at least confidently say that it hadn’t been his fault.

It was one of those cases where the client insisted on tagging along and Emilio was too tired to argue, which should have been his first clue that things were going to go bad. Clients joining him on just about any variation of work always ended poorly, no matter who the client was. In this particular case, he’d put his ass in the line of fire to keep his client from taking the beating in his place and been surprised when she didn’t leave him to bleed out. It had been a pleasant surprise at first, the kind of thing that meant he was probably getting paid a bit extra to help her alleviate her guilt. But then she’d started yammering about doctors and clinics, and Emilio passed out before he could convince her to just dump him back at Axis.

Goddamn bleeding heart Americans.

So, here he was, laying with his eyes closed on a stranger’s table. He could feel someone beside him, knew enough to know it definitely wasn’t the same person who’d brought him here. The smell of antiseptic stung his nose, and the lack of tacky blood sticking to his skin told him he’d been cleaned up and his wounds stitched. The problem, of course, was that he had no idea where he was or what would be expected of him in return. If he could just lay here a few minutes and formulate a plan, he could probably get out of this mess without…

A voice piped up from beside him, startling Emilio into action. His eyes shot open and he sat up, practically diving off the table and across the room, putting distance between himself and the stranger. The sudden movement definitely popped a stitch or three, but the burst of adrenaline kept him from feeling any of the injuries. Wild eyes scanned the room, making note of it. He was definitely in some kind of a clinic, but not a hospital. That was good. Hospitals tended to ask more questions than he wanted to answer, and the last thing he needed was for his name to go into any kind of a system. Too many people could track him down through that sort of thing, and Emilio liked to be the one doing the tracking. He looked at the man who’d spoken, expression dubious. The cigarette hanging from his lips had Emilio’s chest aching for a damn smoke, but he pushed the feeling down in favor of assessing the situation. Tired eyes, steady hands, unamused expression. He’d bet money that this was the guy who’d stitched him up.

After a moment, Emilio nodded. “I’ll leave, then,” he said slowly, making an effort to enunciate each word as carefully as he could. The fact that he had to focus so hard on speaking clearly combined with the fact that the ache of his wounds was dulled probably meant there had been some painkillers involved. Not enough to fully numb him, though; already, his legs were trembling from the effort of holding him upright. If he was more than a block from Axis, he knew he’d collapse in a damn alley before he made it home. He shifted towards the only door in the room, anyway. “What neighborhood is this?”

—

Masami watched as the man he spent a good hour on just jumped out of bed, likely ruining some of his work under the borrowed scrubs he slapped on him. His frown deepened as he stood from his chair approaching the other. HIs left leg didn’t move as smoothly as the other, earning the doctor a bit of a limp as he moved closer to his anxious patient. At this point he figured the other wasn’t much a threat if his wobbly legs were anything to go by, one good kick and he’d be back on the floor, he even doubted the guy could reach the door. “Asking what neighborhood this is when you can’t even stand properly. Sit your ass down so I can see what you’ve messed up.”

The vet pulled back the blanket on the bed, opting to sling it over his chair instead to save it from getting any blood on it. He was beginning to regret being so soft towards people, then again he never really stopped. For as much as he grumbled and complained he never had been able to turn away someone in need, a byproduct of his past he wished he could let go of. How many times had it come to bite him in the ass? Yet here he was fussing at a stranger once again. “Making me waste Cigarettes.” He mumbled, shoving the unfinished smoke in the tray with the others before opening a cabinet by his chair and pulling out fresh gauze.

He didn’t make any move to make the other stay still giving the stranger a way out if he wanted it though Masami had no doubt he'd find him in an alleyway on his way home and they’d be right back where they started. He should have charged Alexus more than just making her clean a room. Janice wouldn’t be impressed with him when she heard about this in the morning.

—

The man — the doctor? — walked with a limp, and Emilio’s fingers tapped nervously against his own thigh as he moved closer. It should have set his mind at ease a little, being able to spot an easy weakness to exploit if he needed a quick getaway here, but he knew he was fading fast. The second the adrenaline left his system, he’d be on his ass again. Unless he actually killed this guy, there’d be nothing stopping him from just scooping Emilio up when he inevitably passed out in the street between here and Axis, and then he’d be right back where he started. The killing thing seemed like a bad option, too, considering an unconscious murderer couldn’t exactly outrun the cops. And, besides, it did seem a little rude to kill a guy who’d presumably stitched him up.

Warily, Emilio watched the man pull back the blanket, eyes carefully narrowed. “I can stand just fine,” he replied stubbornly, even as his bad knee protested in the kind of way that meant it was likely to give out at any moment. One of the bastards who’d gotten the drop on him had delivered a pretty solid kick to it during the fight. It’d probably be giving him more trouble than usual for at least the next few days, if not permanently. With Emilio’s luck, he’d bet on the latter.

Still eyeing the doctor, the hunter slowly moved back towards the exam table. He lowered himself onto it in a sitting position rather than lying down, tense enough to betray the fact that he was ready to leap into action if he needed to. He made no attempt to hide his suspicion; it was better if the guy knew Emilio would fight if he had to. It might mean the difference between making that fight happen and avoiding it altogether. And, with the state he was in now, Emilio would certainly be better off avoiding it. “Don’t have to put it out on my account,” he replied, eyeing the tray. “Might just have to light me one up, too.” He glanced back towards the door, half tempted to make a break for it while the doctor’s back was turned, but there was no way in hell he’d make it back to Axis if he did. Besides that, he was… missing something, wasn’t he? “Where the hell are my clothes? You undress me while I was out?” His left ring finger felt bare where his wedding ring had been removed to presumably see to the bruising on his knuckles, and the unfamiliar lightness of his hand was bizarre enough to have him glancing around the room nervously. “And you’re the one who told me to leave. By the way.” The statement was belated in a way that made Emilio suspect he might have a concussion. Everything seemed slow in that kind of way, like he was swimming through molasses just to settle on a thought.

—

Masami looked back at him, giving the taller man a deadpan face, “I wasn’t going to leave you in your dirty clothes when you had an open wound that’s asking for infection, even you should realize that. Besides, I had to cut your shirt off to access the area.” It was common practice and would have done the same to his coat had Alexus not pulled it off the guy first, much to the vet’s disapproval even if Alexus assured him nothing was probably broken. “I told you to leave if you didn’t feel like shit, you obviously feel like shit so you’re stuck here.” He pulled an IV bag down from the cabinet as well, a little fluids wouldn’t hurt the guy now that he was awake enough not to jump.

“Patients don’t get cigarettes.” Not that he would share with some random ass guy anyway, those cigarettes were hard enough to find as is, he was pretty sure the store selling them was being kept in business by the sheer power of his addiction. Once he had all the basics he set them on a tray and wheeled it over to the bed. He used his left leg to drag over a chair, the sound made a distinct noise of wood hitting metal. “You need to tell me where it hurts and be honest no ‘I’m a tough guy’ bullshit.” Masami grabbed the stranger’s jaw and tilted his head, checking for any missed knicks or bruises before moving his pen in front of his eyes, “Tell me your name and the date.”

It was hard to tell if a patient had a concussion while asleep, and his current patient looked like hell even with the cleaning, he should be glad Masami gave him scrubs at all to cover up. He could have left him shirtless, bandaged and out back but here he was doing a thorough check up on someone who looked like they were ready to punch him at a moment's notice.

—

“You cut my shirt off?” Emilio sounded offended at the revelation, though he really shouldn’t have been. There was nothing special about the shirt. In fact, he was pretty sure it was one of the ones the former occupant of his apartment hadn’t taken with them when they’d moved out (or… otherwise vacated the apartment). Still, he found himself somewhat irritated at its loss, if only because it meant he’d likely need to hunt down a replacement. His wardrobe wasn’t exactly vast, after all. “I feel fine. Feel a lot better without you yammering at me.” He eyed the stranger warily as he moved to the cabinet, tensing as the IV bag was pulled down. He wasn’t exactly thrilled at the idea of this guy sticking any more needles into him.

The denial of a cigarette wasn’t exactly unexpected, but Emilio rolled his eyes all the same. “Where’s my jacket, then? I’ve got my own.” He glanced around the room again, hoping to find his things sitting out where he could grab them. His eyes were drawn back to the stranger as he pulled a chair over, and Emilio made note of the sound his leg had made against the wood. Probably a prosthetic, then. Easy enough to exploit if he needed to, though the guy was seeming less and less like a threat as the conversation went on. Annoying, maybe, but not a threat.

Distracted by his silent assessment of the stranger, Emilio missed the man’s hand coming towards him until he was gripping his jaw. The concussion, he suspected, was at least marginally to blame for that. He probably did himself no favors by yanking his head back, but the move was more instinctual than anything. “I don’t want you to know my name,” he replied, “and the date’s not the kind of thing I tend to keep up with. Don’t know who the president is, either. Soy mexicano, so I don’t care about that shit.” His eyes darted around the room again, jumping from one spot to another quickly. “Where’s my shit, man?”

—

Masami gave a hard stare to the man, “So we’re doing the tough guy shit. Fine hike your shirt up and let me fix your sutures. I won’t use pain meds since you keep insisting you’re great.” He mumbled to himself about idiots as he got up and hobbled back over to the sink to properly wash his hands. “Anyone who saw you would have cut your shirt off, it’s common practice. Your coat’s fine, Alexus saved it, it's in a bag in the hallway with your weapons. For obvious reasons I’m not letting you have them back yet. Then again you seem a little slow so I might as well spell it out for you, I’m here to patch you up and make sure you’re fine to go where you need to; not to get stabbed by your jumpy ass.”

The kitsune pulled on gloves and sat down in his chair, picking up his tweezers. He waited to see if the man would comply, “Not wanting me to know your name is ridiculous, I’m pretty sure if I texted Alexus she’d tell me anyway so there’s no point in dodging the question. It’s to make sure the piece of meat in your head is working properly. Though I guess if you have a concussion the fact that you seem to use your brain so little might be more of a benefit to you for once.” Masami couldn’t stand people who thought they were hot shit while bleeding out in front of him, really he should have told the other shapeshifter to solve the problem herself. Why bring someone who obviously didn’t want help?

Then again he was hardly one to talk, he barely let Janice help him while sick. Speaking of, he should have had Janice come over. The woman was more intimidating than him and her magic could have just held this unruly jerk in place while Masami did what he had to. Unfortunately though he was sure the stranger would probably bite his tongue at that point.

—

“Rather have a glass of whiskey than any of that shit, anyway.” Emilio crossed his arms over his chest, the very picture of stubborn petulance. Part of him wanted to argue against taking his shirt off, but… he figured this guy wasn’t going to give him his shit back until after he was stitched up again. Besides, the fabric of the scrubs was starting to make him feel itchy in the way unfamiliar fabric always did. He pulled it over his head, tossing it half-heartedly at the doctor in a show of protest. “If I wanted to stab you, I’d have found something in here to do it with. I’m a resourceful guy.” It was a bold claim to make as someone who had briefly considered killing the man when he’d woken up on the table.

As the doctor sat down, Emilio shifted. His eyes darted nervously to the tweezers, because he wasn’t good at this. His mother had never stitched his wounds, never bandaged him or helped stop the bleeding. In the Cortez household, the general consensus was that if you got yourself hurt, the consequences were yours to deal with. If you couldn’t manage to stitch yourself up, you’d never make it as a hunter, anyway. And making it as a hunter was the only thing that had mattered back then. It was the only thing that mattered now, too, most days.

“Tell me your name, and maybe I tell you mine,” he replied tightly, if only to keep the doctor from making good on his threat to text Emilio’s client. Texting her could get him far more information than just the hunter’s name. Where he lived, for starters. Emilio wasn’t sure how loyal Alexus would be to him over this man, regardless of the fact that he’d just taken one hell of a beating for her. This way, at least, he could maintain at least the semblance of control here.

—

“No whiskey, no cigarettes, you'll agitate your concussion.” Masami ignored the shirt tossed in his direction and leaned in to look at the wound. “Luckily you only popped two and they’re not next to each other.” He mumbled and carefully grabbed the knot of one of the busted sutures, tugging it out gently and making sure it looked to be whole. A missing piece would be a hassle he didn’t want to deal with. Once he was sure it was all there he tossed it in a bowl and did the same to the other, being careful not to accidentally tug the wound back open and sanitizing the area before grabbing his needle.

He could relent some control if it meant getting this guy on board with treatment. “My name is Dr. Hanazawa. I’m a vet, not a regular doctor, your friend Alexus is one of my more frequent patients, this is going to sting but it won’t last long the holes are already there.” Masami quickly replaced the two lost sutures, checking the wound once more to make sure it was holding closed despite the sudden movement from earlier. He set his needle down and grabbed a swab with antiseptic on it carefully running it around the wound again.

“Also I doubt you could stab me with how wobbly you are, it’d be like a baby deer freshly born trying to wield a knife.” Or a pair of scissors. Either way Masami was pretty sure this guy wasn’t a threat anymore, and if push did come to shove and the stranger somehow miraculously managed to show some prowess with one of his scalpels, he could always just turn into a fox and deal with him that way. Was a little easy when your tails acted like a taser, not that he really wanted to reveal his fox form to the stranger but life and death was life and death.

—

“Gotta be honest with you, doc, my concussion’s getting agitated either way.” Even if he were capable of holding off on drinking or smoking until the concussion passed, which was highly unlikely, Emilio wasn’t the sort of man who knew how to sit still. And for him, not sitting still tended to involve getting punched in the head. One of those risks that came with both his jobs, he figured. He bit his tongue as the doctor began tugging on the stitches, but didn’t make a sound. Truth be told, the pain was nothing compared to some of the shit Emilio was used to. The doctor was just lucky he hadn’t shown up with his damn guts hanging out. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

He glanced up to the doctor’s face as he spoke, eyes searching him for any hint that he might be lying. He found none. It’d be a dangerous lie to tell, anyway. Admitting that you were a doctor for shapeshifters was a sure-fire way to make enemies in a town full of people who might want shapeshifters dead. Hell, Emilio himself was a hunter; not one that killed indiscriminately the way some did (the way his family had, the way he used to), but still. It was safe to assume the doctor wasn’t stupid enough to go with that as a lie. “Emilio,” he replied, making no move to offer his last name along with the first. Cortez was common enough, and not as utterly associated with the slayer family in the States as it had been in Mexico, but he wasn’t about to take any chances.

Emilio was still as Dr. Hanazawa replaced the lost sutures, jaw tight even if his expression betrayed nothing. “Wouldn’t be so sure. I’m good with a knife.” The threat was an empty one, and not just because of his current state. Despite his better judgment, Emilio kind of liked the surly veterinarian. “Can I at least get my wedding ring back? Don’t think any of my fingers are broken.”

—

“Just don’t come back to me if it gets worse.” Not that Masami would turn him away, he just didn’t want a human being comfortable returning to his clinic. Shapeshifters and humans normally got along but not all of them. He heard stories often enough about how humans had mistreated his kin and his clinic was meant to be a safe area for shapeshifters, usually no human would be back in his recovery room. Then again Alexus had vouched for this one and as long as Masami showed he approved, Emilio would be fine… probably. Not many people wanted to get on Masami’s bad side, it never did good to anger the person patching you up.

“At least you can remember your name.” That meant the concussion probably wasn’t severe at least. Masami stared up at Emilio, sliding his gloves off and standing again. “Good enough with a knife to end up in my clinic.” He mumbled before gently grabbing hold of Emilio’s hand to make sure the ring wouldn’t irritate anything, once he was satisfied it’d be fine he shuffled over to the door. He didn’t really see a reason to deny a man his wedding ring if his fingers weren’t broken. Masami opened the door, hardly going out of it before bending over, hands rustling around a plastic bag as the door rested against the back of his legs. “Should have put it in a tray.” He remarked taking a little longer than he would have liked to find the small item. Eventually his head popped back into frame, shimming inside as he headed for the sink giving the ring a good rinse before returning it to Emilio. “Does your partner need to be called to let them know where you are right now?”

—

“I didn’t come to you in the first place,” Emilio shot back. Had it been up to him, he wouldn’t be here at all. His injuries hadn’t been great, but he was pretty sure he could have patched himself up if Alexus had just dragged him back to Axis. Slower than the vet had, maybe, and the stitches certainly wouldn’t have been as clean, but he would have lived. He’d dealt with a lot worse than this without any help and come out the other side still breathing. For better or worse.

Snorting, the hunter only rolled his eyes at the statement. He was pretty sure he’d never taken a hit so hard he forgot his name but, then again, he might not remember it if he had. The quirks of head trauma, he figured. “Hey, I was outnumbered and trying to keep them off Alexus’s back,” he snapped defensively. “I think I did all right.” Considering Alexus had been unharmed, he categorized the altercation as a win in spite of his injuries. Of course, the assailants hadn’t all gotten off worse than Emilio had, which could spell trouble for them both down the line… but that was a problem for another day.

Right now, his problems were confined to this clinic and to the location the doctor moved to to retrieve his ring. Emilio made note of it, assuming the rest of his things were there as well, but he was content to simply be reunited with the ring for now. He slipped it back onto his finger, finding some relief in the familiar weight of it. It was a silly thing, he knew. He and Juliana hadn’t even been solid in the end, had been fighting more often than they weren’t, but the ring had been a part of him for years now and it felt strange to be without it. The doctor’s question drew his attention back to the man, his chest aching at the admittedly fair assumption that there must be someone waiting for him at home. “Uh… No. That’s okay.” He twisted the ring around on his finger absently.

—

“Then don’t let Alexus drag you here if it gets worse. That kid is too nice for her own good. It's going to come back to bite her some day.” Not that he was one to talk given the current situation, but Masami could always explain it away as doing a favor for one of his regulars that just so happened to know he was a big softy despite the attitude he displayed. “If she even starts to mention me, shut her down.” He took his seat back by the window, ignoring the blanket under him as he popped the window open again and pulled the unfinished cig out of the tray, bringing the dead back to life as he managed to light the crumpled up end.

“Surprised you let her come along in the first place, she’s a shit fighter.” He held back adding on ‘just like you’ figuring he’d pushed the other man’s buttons enough for right now. “Still I thought the goal of fighting was to do damage without taking it, really starting to seem like most of you fail that bit.” Masami wasn’t a big fighter, he could hold his own and had in the past but he’d much rather just look for an escape route. He felt too old for the constant fights that took place around him. He was past 500 now half way through ascending and really it was a wonder he even got this far. He wasn’t sure if it was worth bothering trying to go for another 500 but he guessed as long as his patients needed him he'd be here.

Masami took in how Emilio reacted to the ring and took the hint, whatever was going on with the taller man’s partner was complicated it seemed. Well that was none of his business, he fixed bleeding hearts not broken ones. “Lay back down for a bit then. Let the wound settle and your legs rest before you try to leave.”

—

“I didn’t let her drag me here this time. I told her to drop me at my apartment. She made an executive decision while I was passed out.” He grumbled, stumbling a little on some of the larger words in the sentence. Emilio wasn’t entirely comfortable in English when he didn’t have a concussion. With his head pounding the way it was now, the guy was lucky he was managing to keep up at all. “Yeah, well, I want to be here a lot less than you want me around.” He eyed the doctor as he picked up the cigarette, an expression almost bordering on hurt crossing his face. “Come on, man. That’s just mean.”

Sighing, he rolled his eyes and kicked a foot against the table. “She told me she could fight.” And normally, Emilio wouldn’t have believed her. But there wasn’t supposed to be a fight at all. It was just supposed to be surveillance. Funny how his luck played out. He should have figured he was kidding himself in assuming this time would be anything different. “Only goal of fighting is to make it out alive. I did that.” Although some might argue that that was never really Emilio’s goal. If it were, he’d pick less fights with impossible odds. Or take better care of himself, at the very least.

The doctor didn’t pry about the ring, and Emilio felt some sense of gratitude for that. It wasn’t something he would have really opened up about if prompted — more likely, he would have gotten up and marched out the door, injuries be damned — but it was nice not to have to put in the effort of shutting the subject down. He’d always preferred people who knew when to shut up. The doctor seemed to be one of them. Maybe that was why he complied with the order as much as he ever complied with any order, leaning back on his palms rather than laying down but making no move to actually leave. “Still gonna want a cigarette.”

—

“Alexus likes to think she can fight but I’ve seen her face come in swollen enough to know she can’t. One time her opponent dragged her in, barely had a scratch on him while her nose was crooked so much it whistled everytime she breathed.” Masami took a long drag on his cigarette while talking, “If you wanted one then you should have protected your head better.” The smoke moved with his jaw as the words squeezed out of his lips. The doctor was not one to backpedal on his decisions, even if his patient didn’t exactly seem like he wanted to get better, or at least didn’t seem to care about it.

“I’m going to order food. I have a feeling it’ll take awhile before your legs feel like supporting you and no you don’t get to choose what you want. We’re getting Chinese, it's the only place open this late.” Masami understood more than most people about wanting to avoid tough subjects, he never did talk about his family, not even to Janice. Even after all these years it still hurt to think about the night he got back to the shrine to see everyone turned to ash, the mask he picked up was wrapped in cloth and shoved deep into his closet where it couldn’t bring up unwanted memories. His mother’s name was purposefully placed on a part of him that would be hard to read without a mirror.Grief was a monster Masami didn’t know how to beat.

—

“Yeah, well, I learned my damn lesson.” He probably wouldn’t take a case from Alexus again, even if she did decide to make some attempt at becoming a repeat customer. Getting his ass kicked was one thing, but Emilio didn’t want clients who’d drag him into clinics every time something was bleeding. He got enough of that shit through Javi. “I was a little busy trying not to get gutted,” he grumbled, shooting the doctor a glare that was mostly half-hearted. The cigarettes the other man was smoking didn’t smell like the kind Emilio preferred, anyway. He’d probably finish up the pack in his jacket pocket the second said jacket was given back to him.

Emilio bit back the urge to insist that he was fine to go now, knowing enough to know that the doctor would see through his bullshit pretty easily. He’d probably be all right to leave sooner than the vet expected him to be — slayer healing and all that — but it was still going to take some time. Longer, he suspected, because of the blow he’d taken to his bad leg. Now that both the adrenaline and the initial dose of painkillers he’d been given were wearing off, the injury was the loudest one in the collection. Fortunately, Emilio had grown good at ignoring pain. “What if I’m allergic to Chinese food?” He wasn’t, as far as he knew, but he felt like making things more difficult for the doctor as a show of petty protest.

—

“Then starve.” Masami mumbled out as he put in what he wanted before throwing the phone in Emilio’s lap. The casing on it was scratched and dented from years of being dropped or casually tossed aside, its screen wasn’t fairing much better but the doctor wasn’t going to replace it as long as it bothered to turn on. He had a habit of holding onto broken things that refused to give out. Speaking of, his gaze went to the man’s face looking for any sign that he was getting worse rather than better; he looked tired, beaten and quite frankly like an ornery little shit. Emilio’s actions definitely proved the last part with how resistant he seemed to help or even order free food. The cigarette wiggled in Masami’s mouth as he spoke, “Order what you want or hand the phone back.”

The doctor leaned in his chair making sure to blow the smoke out of the window, the crumpled cigarette now nestled between his fingers rather than hanging dangerously from his mouth. The window seemed to lack a screen letting in any cold breeze that came with it, but it was like that for a practical reason. It was easier to make an escape if a hunter ever ended up in his exam room if the screen to his window wasn’t an obstacle. The other windows in the room, however, did retain their bug shields in place and Masami had put himself next to this one in particular for obvious reasons with an unknown human in his proximity. “What was Alexus trying to get you to do?” He wasn’t sure Emilio would answer that given his attitude but it was worth a shot, better to know what Alexus was up to rather than be in the dark should she bring any trouble his way.

—

“Your bedside manner is shit, doc,” Emilio quipped, catching the phone as it was tossed his way with a little less grace than he might have had he not been beaten to shit. You could tell a lot about a person by the state of their things; more if you were a half-decent detective, which Emilio liked to think he was. The doctor’s phone was old enough that even someone with as little knowledge of technology as Emilio could tell, with enough damage and cracks to signify that it had been through a lot. The man it belonged to seemed to have fared more or less the same. Both were world-torn. Both were still operating, somehow. Emilio found he could relate. He squinted at the phone screen, trying not to let it show just how new things like this still were for him. His mother had had no use for technology and, in his desperate bids to win her approval, neither had Emilio. He tapped at the screen absently until he thought he must have ordered something, then tossed the phone back to the doctor without comment.

Watching the doctor warily and tensing with each movement the man made, Emilio shifted on the table. He was still wound tight, like a spring ready to fly at the slightest provocation. Body pointed towards the exit in a way that was subtle, but would allow him a quick escape if he needed one. Absently, he twisted the wedding band around his finger and shrugged at the question. “Client-detective confidentiality,” he replied, the last word carefully enunciated in its unfamiliarity. It was a phrase he’d read during his very limited ‘research’ on how to operate as a detective, and while he wasn’t sure what exactly it entailed, it seemed like something that would get him out of answering the doctor’s questions. “Why did you patch me up? Why not tell Alexus to dump me in an alley?”

—

“Most of my patients don’t understand what I’m saying.” While he was a back alley doctor, he still did his job as a vet. Masami never really did hold things back though, he didn’t see a need to when being up front was often most effective. His patients’ owners seemed to appreciate the frankness or they wouldn’t keep bringing their pets back in, then again he was the only vet for exotics in town. He even helped the local zoo which was a great excuse for when some of his shapeshifting clients couldn’t maintain a human form.

Masami let the phone flop into his lap, not bothering to try and catch it almost as if he was daring Emilio to miss, finally putting the ancient piece of plastic out of its misery. Unfortunately for the phone though it seemed to land mostly safe on top of his legs letting the older man finalize the order before tucking it back in his pocket. When Emilio dodged his question he could feel his snark building prompting his answer to come out rather quickly, “Figure it out for yourself.” In all truth, Masmai didn’t know why he bothered patching up Emilio. He just knew if he left him out there bleeding he’d feel like shit. It was rare among his kind to have any sort of care for the humans. Bad blood between the two often kept it that way, but here he was everytime unable to say no. He’d get in trouble for it later on, always did. Seemed even more certain given the state Emilio came in, and given the fact Alexus put him in that situation. He was also certain the fact that Alexus came here was basic knowledge to most who knew her.

This whole situation was annoying, he’d have to have Janice strengthen any protections the spellcaster had placed on the clinic and hope for once this actually didn’t come to bite him in the ass. His fingers came to pinch the bridge of his nose, as the other hand put out the now spent up cigarette.Masami would suggest the other man take responsibility if something happened but he was sure Emilio would just find a way to weasel out of it or pin it on Alexus who was rightfully to blame in this case but Masami only had Emilio stuck before him having sent the girl home hours ago. He lowered his fingers and was going to try and ask another question but thought better of it, “You should lay down before the food gets here, your head might thank you.” he grumbled as he tugged the cigarette packet off the windowsill to light another, by now the soft scent of Vanilla was making its way around the room.

—

“My English is a little better than a dog’s.” Though perhaps not by much. Sometimes, Emilio got the sense that Perro understood his clients better than he did. If the dog could talk to them in his stead, Axis would probably have far better reviews. He wondered, absently, what the reviews for this place were like. Maybe he ought to leave one of his own. Guy sewed my guts back into my stomach at two in the morning and ordered Chinese food for me, but wouldn’t give me a cigarette. Three stars. Something told him it wouldn’t be properly appreciated.

The phone sailed through the air and though the doctor made no move to catch it, it landed with relative safety. Emilio had always had pretty good aim. He watched the other man finalize the order, scowling a little when his question, like the one that had been posed to him, went unanswered. “Well,” he said, moving to cross his arms over his chest and gritting his teeth to keep himself from wincing as the motion pulled at the fresh stitches, “you give me that kind of power, I’m going to abuse it. Assume you fixed me because you figured I’m too damn pretty to die. Feel free to tell me I’m wrong, but only if you’re going to give me a different answer to replace that one.” It wasn’t the most mature tactic, but Emilio figured the probable concussion ought to give him a pass there. It didn’t actually matter much, after all, why the doctor chose not to let him bleed out in the streets. Even Emilio’s paranoia had trouble assigning a malicious motivation to the actions. If he were trying to butter the hunter up, he’d be nicer. If he were preparing to sell him to the highest bidder, he’d have drugged him stupid by now. If he were going to kill him, he’d have done it while Emilio was unconscious on his table. All he could figure was that the guy was an idiot who cared about strangers more than he should. Or he owed Alexus one hell of a favor and she’d chosen to cash it in on this, but that seemed a little less likely. Alexus didn’t like him that much.

Of course, that didn’t mean Emilio felt secure enough to follow instructions and lay down. Even in a situation where he was pretty sure he was in no immediate danger, his training wouldn’t allow him to relax in the presence of a stranger. Eyes glued to the doctor, and in a way that could be accused of being petty, the hunter swung his legs over the table and pushed himself to his feet. His legs would barely hold him, and the pain was enough to draw a quiet grunt from him, but that didn’t stop him from making a slow trek across the room to the door he’d watched the doctor open before to retrieve his wedding ring. Leaning heavily against the wall, he opened the door and rummaged around in his jacket pocket for a moment before drawing his hand back… with a pack of cigarettes. He pulled one from the pack and held it between his teeth, still staring at the vet. “You gonna give me a light, or do I need to fish around in my pocket for it?”

—

“So I noticed.” Masami replied dryly as he turned to blow smoke out the window. He wasn’t really sure what Emilio expected from him. He thought he’d been nice enough given Emilio’s attitude towards him. Then again even if Emilio had been kinder, Masami doubted his attitude would have changed in fact it might have gotten worse. He always seemed to come off angry the more concerned he was. Alexus didn’t seem to mind, most of the time she laughed as the doctor cussed at her while checking her over. He wasn’t sure why he was like this, he wasn’t even sure how long he had been like this. When you hit 500 a lot of the past just blurred together no matter how well you remembered it you could never really pinpoint the time of the memory anymore. He felt old, he was only halfway through his life and white was already starting to show in patches on his fur. Would he even remember this encounter when it came time to die?

The vet was pulled from his thoughts by Emilio talking again. Pretty? Was Emilio pretty? Sure the other man wasn’t bad looking if they had met in a bar the fox might have even let him take him home that is if they didn’t immediately start bickering with one another. His eyes went to the stitches the minute Emilio moved, he tensed when the other stood and made for the door. Masami stayed that way till the man poked his head back with a cigarette hanging from his mouth. “Fucking idiot.” he breathed out a sigh and stood crossing the room. He was shorter than Emilio, he knew that since the man was dragged hunched over Alexus, but he was really noticing it now that Emilio was standing and he was having to look up to take in his face. “I prefer men who don’t end up on my table.” His gaze dropped to Emilio’s side to check his work hadn’t been messed up again.

His fingertips gently ghosted over the skin just under the cut, maybe it was because Emilio hadn’t jumped up this time, but they seemed to be doing just fine. Once he was sure everything was good Masami offered a flat stare to the cigarette just laying there limp. He was tempted to reach over and tug it out, but then Emilio would just get another one out and really Masami wasn’t sure if he’d be able to get all of them from the human without the moron hurting himself again. “If you want a light you’ll have to bend down. My lighter is on the window.” he reached up to hold his own cigarette in place to take a drag from it.

—

In all honesty, Emilio found that he liked the doctor. He probably wouldn’t say as much aloud, and certainly not during this kind of back and forth, but he’d always had a soft spot for people who refused to take his shit. It was what had drawn him to Juliana so intensely when they met, what allowed him to grow so close with Rhett as quickly as he had, what made him so fond of Javi. Emilio liked people who didn’t get their feelings hurt when he was an ass, because he was an ass often. It’d get old if he had to apologize for it every goddamn time.

Though… he might owe the vet a beer after all this. He knew he wasn’t the best patient but, in his defense, he’d never really had to be a patient before. In the Cortez household, you were expected to patch your own wounds or bleed out, and Emilio certainly hadn’t had anyone piecing him back together after he left Mexico. It was almost quaint, being around someone who gave a shit if his guts were hanging out in the open. “You’d be lucky to land me,” he said with a scoff. “I’m a catch.”

He leaned back against the wall as the doctor prodded at his stitches, the trek across the room enough to leave him more lightheaded than he’d care to admit. Christ, he hoped this shit healed quickly. His heritage as a slayer offered him some reprieve with the speed of his healing, but head wounds were a bitch. They were unpredictable at best, especially to a man who didn’t bother trying to understand them. “Yeah, yeah,” he nodded, leaning down to light his cigarette off the doctor’s. The hunched position was uncomfortable with his injuries, but he let none of the discomfort show on his face as he pulled back with the now-lit cigarette, taking a long draw and releasing the smoke with a sigh. “If I grab my flask out of my jacket, are you gonna bitch about it?”

—

“Somehow I doubt you are.” If anything Masami was sure he’d throw this catch back into the water. Then again he was a little frustrated given how Emilio seemed hell bent to open his wound again. Still there wasn’t even a guarantee these two would meet up again after all this. Emilio could always go to someone else to get his stitches removed. He wouldn’t blame him with how their night has gone. He was rude and Masami was rude. It seemed to work for them so far, though Masami would have preferred if the man would sit still at least till the food arrived.

Masami held still, eyes watching Emilio lean in and light his cigarette. He really was a pretty man, fuck. “You can’t drink. I’ll let you have your cigarette but if you bend over to get your flask out I’m going to push you over so you can’t get back up.” He wouldn’t. The doctor was all bark with hardly any bite and even now he was beginning to relax completely around Emilio given that the man seemed to be proving he was no longer going to grab something to stab him with which was great given that he knew how many weapons were in the bag. “If you need something for pain you can have tylenol. Most of you humans are fine with that one.” He didn’t move to fetch it though. He was sure that if he turned his back the taller man would definitely start rummaging for his flask.

Unfortunately for Masami, a ping came from his phone and a knocking could be heard on the clinic’s front doors. “Go sit before you fall over.” Masami moved past Emilio, pausing and deciding to just try to take the bag with him to prevent any more mischief on his patient’s part.

—

“Well, you’re not exactly seeing me at my best here, doc. I’m a lot better looking when I’m not bleeding.” The back and forth with the doctor was a lot easier than it was with most people. Emilio didn’t have to worry about saying something too rude to a man who was just as rude as he was. Though the conversation might have been easier if he weren’t struggling to keep his feet underneath him. He was beginning to understand why Alexus brought him here instead of taking him home as he’d requested, even if he’d never admit to as much. His usual method of administering first aid to himself with a bottle of whiskey and whatever towel on the bathroom floor seemed the least filthy might not have served him very well tonight.

But… he would still prefer the whiskey. He scowled when the doctor insisted that he couldn’t drink, looking petulant at the rule. “If you push me over, I’ll just drink it in the floor. I’ve had worse drinks in dirtier places, you know.” But he made no move back towards the bag just yet. Embarrassingly, his energy was pretty goddamn spent from his trek across the space to retrieve the cigarette dangling from his mouth, and if the vet made good on his threat to push the hunter over, Emilio was certain he wouldn’t be able to get up again. And the asshole would probably just snatch the flask from him, anyway, at that point. “I don’t need tylenol. I need whiskey. Maybe tequila. Not much of a vodka man, but if you’ve got some on you, I won’t say no.” It was only half a joke. Emilio wasn’t exactly sober — he hadn’t been entirely sober in around two years now — but he wasn’t drunk enough to be comfortable, either.

Which was probably why the knock on the door had him tensing, paranoia kicking into overdrive momentarily until logic caught up with him and reminded him that they’d ordered Chinese. He raised a brow at the vet, fully planning on retrieving the flask from the bag the moment the man left the room… only to have the plan thwarted by the other man grabbing the bag to carry with him. Emilio let out a frustrated huff of air, shooting him a half-hearted glare. “Aguafiestas,” he muttered, taking a long drag of his cigarette and limping back across the room. Rather than sit on the exam table, he settled himself into the chair the doctor had vacated, just to be contrary. It was where the ashtray was.

—

Masami made his way through his clinic with ease, even with the majority of lights off. He tucked the bag behind the counter and retrieved their meal, making sure to give the driver a rather large tip to make up for having to work so late. The driver did look a little off but Masami chucked it up to it being 2 am, though it got a little stranger when Masami went to lock the door and the driver had barely moved before turning to look at him again, the kid looked hesitant like he wanted to ask something but Masami wasn’t going to risk taking on another patient with a human in his back, so he just made sure to turn the lights off in the front to send the message that he was closed even if he was still working.

The vet stopped when he pushed the door to the recovery room open and saw Emilio in his chair. He rolled his eyes and brought the food over to the counter spreading it out. “If you’re going to sit there then pull the blanket over you. It’s still winter out even if it’s starting to get warmer. “ Masami opened the doors and pulled out two mugs, deciding to let Emilio use Janice’s. She’d kill him if she knew he let some stranger put his lips on her mug but he didn’t feel like giving Emilio his. “As to your earlier comment, you wouldn’t need to see me if you weren’t bleeding and if I’m denying you your own alcohol why would I give you mine?”

He filled both cups with water, opting to get the coffee pot filled and going as well, slapping in some hazelnut coffee that was sure to keep him going till Emilio was able to go home. Masami took the time to unwrap the plastic forks and spoons sticking one into what he guessed was Emilio’s order before putting it in the man’s lap and placing the mug on the windowsill. “Don’t drop the mug, it’s not mine.” He mumbled before fetching his own food and scooting the chair that was next to the bed over to the window so he could sit by the ash tray as well. It was a little awkward to balance on his fake leg so he could use his good one to get the damn thing over.

—

With the vet off to retrieve their takeout, Emilio weighed the option of slipping out the door once again. It would have been a more viable option had his childish protest march for a cigarette not wiped his energy, though the fact that such a short trek had left him this tired let him know that, even without it, he wouldn’t have made it very far if he’d left. More likely than not, any attempt to leave would find him passed out in an alley in a far worse position than stuck in a vet’s office with free takeout and surly company. Besides, he really didn’t want to go without his jacket. Rosa’s old knife was tucked into one of the pockets, and the thought of leaving it behind ached more than he’d care to admit.

So, he settled back into the chair and puffed away at his cigarette, awaiting the doctor’s return. The smug expression on his face as the other man rolled his eyes in response to the chair’s theft was perhaps a little childish, but Emilio felt he’d earned it. He’d put up with the doctor’s prickly demeanor with what, in his opinion, qualified as great patience. “Or you could give me back my coat,” he replied, though he didn’t expect the attempt to be successful. Roles reversed, he wouldn’t return a coat full of weapons to a stranger sitting in his space, either. “I didn’t need to see you to begin with, you know. Alexus overreacted. I would have been fine patching myself up at home.” He knew it was a lie, but he’d never admit it.

Water certainly wasn’t what Emilio wanted, but he accepted the mug with the knowledge that it was likely all he’d get. He poked absently at the food in his lap, twisting noodles around the plastic silverware without much thought. It was probably the best meal that had been offered to him in months, which was a little sad. He tended to survive on whatever cheap microwavable meals he could pick up at the 24 hour grocery store at two in the morning and whatever Javi ‘accidentally’ left in his fridge. Of course, that was only when he remembered to eat. “I’m not gonna drop the mug,” he mumbled, finger tapping the side of the ceramic absently. “Whose is it?”

—

“Not giving your coat back, you can deal without alcohol till you go home.” From the look of it though, Emilio wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. Masami shuffled into the now positioned chair and set his own mug down to place the cigarette in the ashtray’s holder. “You could have kept the shirt I gave you on.” Emilio seemed to like to make a show of being difficult though so he suspected the shirt would have come off eventually even if Masami hadn’t needed to fix his stitches. Masami was used to difficult patients though. A lot of people who came through liked to act tough, he supposed it made them feel safer in an unknown situation or they were just idiots. He was leaning more towards the idiot part. He really had to stop helping people who didn’t really want it but he doubted he would.

“You needed me, so thank Alexus when you next see her.” Masami didn’t like the idea of this man patching himself up at home, just based off his earlier demeanor, Masami felt Emilio would have just doused the wound in alcohol and haphazardly slapped some bandages over it. He was getting a headache just imagining it. Thankfully Emilio piped up again to get the vet out of his mental spiral of all the horrible ways Emilio could have handled the cut on his side. “Hm? It’s my employees. She’s another vet… ikind of.” He could barely remember when he had first met Janice, she felt as old as he did but she was definitely a human.

Masami frowned at the thought, realizing how easy he was to get help form. Janice had been beaten half to death and Masmai just couldn’t leave her alone now she worked the front desk and luckily for Masami she was an amazing spellcaster especially when it came to dispelling curses. He shoved some of his fried rice into his mouth as he eyed Emilio. Another stranger he helped with no incentive. He really should be harsher, more closed off. He knew it’d get him into trouble, it had happened before. Picking up the wrong stray left to die, eventually it always came back to bite him. He wasn’t a selfless person, he knew he did it to avoid the guilt of letting someone die that he could have helped. He hated that feeling more than the trouble that came with helping someone who was obviously hurt for shady reasons.

—

“Guess I’ll be going home soon, then,” Emilio grumbled, moving the food on his plate around with his fork without much interest. The doctor had a real ‘mother hen’ kind of thing about him; Emilio doubted he’d be allowed to leave without fuss until he could prove he could walk without trouble, or until someone came round to pick him up. He hoped it wasn’t the latter. He’d never be able to go home if he wasn’t allowed to go home alone. Looking absently to where the discarded shirt had fallen, he shrugged. “Didn’t fit my style. Got to keep up my look.” The joke, like his general demeanor in the strange clinic, was little more than an absentminded defense mechanism, a way of putting some form of distance between himself and the situation. Emilio disliked passing out in one location and waking up in one he didn’t recognize because of the control such an event forced him to sacrifice. He’d take it back in any form he could, even if all he could really do was kick up dirt.

It was especially irritating that the vet was right. Emilio had needed help, and even a near-stranger like Alexus had been able to recognize that. But he’d never admit to such a thing, never let himself accept the help he required without complaining about it. “Thank her? She practically kidnapped me. I’m a captive right now. This is unlawful… encarcelamiento.” Unable to find the English word, he settled for the Spanish one with a dramatic wave of his hand. If this was imprisonment, it was certainly a best case scenario. Decent food, water, and medical care. A conversation partner that didn’t make him want to stab himself with his plastic fork. “You live nearby?” It would explain why he was here so late.

Of course, given his reaction to Alexus dragging a bleeding man into his clinic in the wee hours of the morning, Emilio doubted that the doctor was here just catching up on paperwork. He was probably here most nights, waiting for someone who needed help. It was similar, in a way, to what Emilio did. But this was more like playing defense, fixing problems in the aftermath. Emilio’s game was the offense, squashing issues before they arose. And, sometimes, getting his ass kicked in the process, evidently. He sighed, pushing the food around a little more before leaning forward to set the plate aside in favor of leaning back in his stolen chair. The fork remained in his hand, twirling between his fingers absently. “Not good at sitting still,” he admitted, leaning forward again. “How long before I can leave without you taking offense to it?”

—

Masami noticed the apparent lack of appetite in his patient but decided not to bring it up. He figured he had fussed enough at Emilio for today. “Based on the shirt I cut off you, you're right. It wasn’t dirty enough.” He was getting used to teasing Emilio, their conversation seemed to flow easily even if most of it was just being rude to one another. It was kind of enjoyable. Would be more enjoyable if the man would get out of his own ass. He really should have made Alexus stay to take Emilio home after Masami patched him up, but she looked equally tired and Masami figured she’d be passed out and useless by the time Emilio came around anyway. So he sent her away. He wasn’t about to offer to drive Emilio home either, he didn’t think Emilio would agree even if he did.

“You’re not a captive.” Masami was starting to realize that Emilio liked to be dramatic. The man seemed to drive everything to its highest point and exaggerate even the littlest of inconveniences. He was also an alcoholic apparently. A note Masami was deciding whether or not to store away, if he did keep note of it then that meant he expected Emilio to come back. He frowned at himself a little, Emilio wasn’t meant to be coming back. He should have been taken to a human hospital in the first place, then again Masami wasn’t going to get the police involved in suspicious cases which was probably why Alexus had come here instead. “I don’t live close by,” He did but he wasn’t going to tell Emilio that, he was easing up around the other man but if Emilio got caught up in something and somehow ended up involving Massami it was better that he didn’t know,”I was here with a sick rabbit… You’re getting curious again.”

He had thought they were agreeing not to ask questions of each other, even if it hadn’t been spoken out loud. Masami set his own food again and leaned back, eyes roaming Emilio’s form. “You can leave when you feel you can walk home.No lying to seem tough, if you pass out in an alleyway I won’t hear the end of it from Alexus.” He would also have to drag the man back to the clinic himself which wasn’t something Masami thought he would enjoy.

—

“Oh, you got jokes?” Emilio took a sip from the mug to hide his grin, amused in spite of himself. The doctor was as quick with his quips as he had been with that needle earlier, which was certainly saying something. There were worse places to wake up, Emilio decided. This was a hell of a lot better than some vampire’s den, even if the ‘torture’ was a little less entertaining. That didn’t mean he was looking to stay, though.

He narrowed his eyes at the vet’s insistence that he wasn’t a captive, putting on a show as if he didn’t believe it. His paranoia may have had him on high alert at first, but he’d long since accepted that the vet didn’t actually mean him hard. The guy actually seemed like he wanted to help. Somehow, that was more confusing than the alternative. “If I weren’t a captive, you’d let me have my flask.” A last-ditch effort. Never let it be said that Emilio was anything less than persistent. He quirked a brow at the sick rabbit excuse, which he was pretty sure was bullshit.

“I’m a detective, doc. Curiosity’s kind of part of the job.” But he didn’t poke further, for the moment. The doctor had given him a fair amount of discretion here. The least he could do was return the favor. It was just… a little harder than it might have been for most people. His statement wasn’t entirely false — curiosity was something that ate away at him, and the desire for answers tended to be a hard one for Emilio to ignore. The longer he stayed, the more likely he was to ask questions. He had a hard time stopping himself. Sighing, he continued spinning the fork absently in his fingers and stared at a blank spot on the wall, free hand twitching. “I’ve got a dog,” he said suddenly, glancing to the vet. “He gets antsy. If I’m gonna be here all night, somebody’s gotta check on him.”

—

“I was a comedian in my past life.” Masami muttered and closed his container of rice, moving to get up and put it in the small fridge that sat on the floor next to the counter. He downed the water in his mug as he closed the fridge door with his foot, filling the now empty mug with half coffee and half creamer. He knew it was a good idea to just make the recovery room and the break room the same area, saved him from having to leave unruly patients like Emilio by themselves just so he could get coffee.

Speaking of, the dramatics from Emilio earned another eye roll from the vet as he sipped on his drink and leaned against the counter. “Have you never been to a hospital? You’re a patient not a captive. So no flask.” Emilio should have been in a regular hospital, then again he wasn’t sure a normal hospital could handle this guy, Emilio probably would have escaped by now or he would have annoyed the doctors into letting him go. Masami was a little impressed the man kept trying to weasel some alcohol out of him but he wasn’t one to back down as long as Emilio wasn’t hurting himself or someone else.

He moved to go rejoin the man in the seats, wanting the cigarette he left behind when he paused at the mention of an anxious dog. Masami frowned, at first he wasn’t sure if Emilio was being honest or not and was about to say so until the man fixed his gaze on him. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, “I’ll call a taxi. Hopefully your legs are good to go by the time it arrives.” Masami would be stuck worrying if Emilio wasn’t able to walk properly to the front but at least he wouldn’t walk home. Masami tugged his phone out of his pocket and was quick to place the request. Now it would just be a case of waiting. “Take your food with you, you can eat it later and don’t do anything stupid to re-open your wound. I won’t fix you up again. Humans shouldn’t be back here.”

He started fussing around in the cupboards with the hand that wasn’t holding the mug, He pulled out some bandages and slapped them into the plastic bag their food had been delivered in before coming over and dropping the bag in Emilio’s lap. This was the last favor he’d do for this man if he could help it. Despite them getting along, Masami had decided it was probably better Emilio stayed on his side of the town far from his clinic. He still didn’t know who had beaten him and Alexus, and he didn’t want any of that trouble coming his way. On the other hand he knew if Emilio showed up here again he wouldn’t say no to treating him. He was weak that way. Always had been. Probably always would be if 500 years of life hadn’t beaten it out of him yet..

#writing #mortemoppetere #emilio #head trauma tw

9 notes · View notes

meadowlarksabove · 2 months

Note

umbrella, sender lets receiver under their umbrella.

actions speak louder than words ( OPEN )

He’d been searching for Alexus all afternoon, hopping from one bar to the next, even scoping the alleyways on the good chance they were off on another unscrupulous adventure. They had left him to work the stall by his lonesome again, and if the clench in Gabban’s jaw was anything to go by, one would think he’d just about had it with his brother’s tendency to slack off.

A cold rain swept through Goodneighbor, but even that seemed to steam off of Gabban’s head, as if his rage were broiling the very blood in his veins. Then after a few more steps through the streets- it stopped, and altogether unexpectedly.

He looked beside himself, surprised to see Kira keeping pace as she held up the handle of her umbrella.

You’ll get sick.

Gabban blinked a few times, snapped out of his anger by a random act of kindness. His lips parted as if to speak, but he laughed instead, tickled by her doctor’s instincts. She was so- nice.

“I’m sorry, I’m…I’m actually looking for my brother.”

#.ic #.Gabban #distantpagesandpapercuts

1 note · View note

simgirlt · 2 years

Text

Besk takes her back to the villa. Jesse is already off to work. She'll be gone till midnight.

"Such a big house for a single guy. Well-decorated too" Before Besk can respond, Alexus captures his lips with hers. He isn't the only hungry one here.

#krafton legacy #gen 5 #besquiet #besk #alexus #oasis springs

0 notes

galacticunicorn · 7 years

Photo

Anyone else want the cast of 13 reasons why on Lip Sync Battle? Let's make this happen

#lip sync battle #13 reasons why #ross butler #devin druid #katherine langford #christian navarro #brandon flynn #dylan minnette #brandon larracuente #ajiona alexus #justin prentice #alisha boe #miles heizer

70 notes · View notes

third-generation-female-warrior · 3 years

Text

Hidden

So, I decided to maybe do a multi-chapter fic of what Talbott and Alexus were up to during the Second Wizarding War (but it could end up being a one-shot). I don't have too many plans, so I'm hoping I can keep it up. It may get a little more mature than what I've written before, never anything explicit, so far it's a T rating. Lots of romantical language, some dueling, writing the first bit felt a lot like writing quarantine, so take with that what you will.

Chapter 1

Sometimes, on quiet rainy nights, while laying in bed, Talbott Winger would reflect fondly upon the last few years of his life. He was still a young man, only twenty-four-years-old. Some would say the prime of life. He looked down at the woman laying down with him, and kissed her forehead, remembering the last few years, remembering how he was lucky enough to be living with her.

He had graduated from Hogwarts with her in 1991, and he wasted no time moving into a flat in London with his girlfriend of three years: Alexus Johnson. He continued his auror career while she had set up a private investigative office, occasionally working as a hit-witch for his department.

Working young kids, that’s what they were, tripping over themselves in the bliss of freedom, no teachers or dark cabals constantly looming over their heads. Just them, in their space, with their combined book collection.

They continued dating for another couple years until 1995, a year that Talbott reflected upon fondly as he noticed her eyes fluttering from a dream.

That was the year he had proposed to her. In a wheat field, under a large shady tree, when they were on a picnic together, he pulled her favorite book out of the basket and told her to find a story for him to read.

She turned to a marked page, a custom bookmark pressed between the pages of her favorite romantic poem. Embossed in blue lettering was the question he wanted to ask her.

“Will you marry me?”

By the time she processed the bookmark and looked at him for answers, he was already on one knee, an open box with his ring in his hands, held up to her.

They had a small ceremony, a few months later, only their closest friends and her mother and brother were in attendance. They didn’t need or want a big spectacle. All he wanted was to dance with his wife, and he did, for the whole night.

It was 1997 now, and he considered himself the luckiest wizard in the world. He loved her, he didn’t want to lose her.

He loved her, and there was a war right outside their door.

Instead of being stable and safe at their London flat, they were in a safe house.

He loved his wife, but she was rather prone to being targeted by large groups of dark wizards.

Granted, this time, as with his work serving under Alastor “Mad-Eye” Moody in the auror department, Talbott himself had been targeted as the Death Eaters took over the Ministry.

Mad-Eye had been killed just over two months ago, during a big confrontation involving Harry Potter and a bunch of Death Eaters, and a few weeks after, there was a wedding for Bill Weasley.

Alexus, still being a good friend with her the eldest Weasley, had attended with Talbott.

They were attacked while there, and that was when they went into hiding, apparating to their flat to grab the bags they had packed in advance before leaving, on a muggle bus, to a train station.

From that station, they made their way to some distant station before apparating again.

Somewhere in Ireland, Talbott didn’t know the exact location. An old villa in the countryside with rolling hills to the right, as far as they could see, and a thick forest to the left of the home, her father’s childhood home, apparently. She and Jacob inherited it when he died.

It was modest, with a lush flower garden in the front, and a greenhouse in the back, a small village within a bike ride’s distance for when they needed groceries.

Most importantly, it had a library, a record player, and a radio.

The days passed slowly, the sun rose over the hills and set behind the trees.

To pass the time, they read, they danced, they cooked, they tended to the garden and greenhouse. Only sparingly did they venture to the village together, for being in sight of other people increased their risk of being sighted.

Today had included a trip to the village. It started off a sunny day, brilliant blue skies as they walked the markets in the center of the place. By the time they were leaving, fresh groceries in their arms, the dark clouds were rolling through the skys.

They had rushed home, just barely avoiding getting caught in the downpour. Alexus found the whole scenario hilarious. Rainy weather always made her feel better, and after dinner, she played music on the muggle device that she called a record player, some relic that belonged to her grandparents.

Talbott hadn’t really heard music like this before, but it was fascinating nonetheless. So, they danced that night, for a long time.

It was enough to leave Alexus properly tired by the time they were heading to bed, so she had fallen asleep in minutes, laying her head on his chest instead of the pillows.

He read his book with one hand, keeping his other arm around her. It was an old one, a collection of an author’s favorites that Alexus had gotten him for his 16th birthday.

The pages were well preserved, some passages underlined, the ink from their own pens fading.

He traced his thumb over a neat line, knowing it was Alexus who had marked it. He sighed and marked his spot before setting the book on his nightstand.

He turned off his light and gently moved, just slow enough so that he didn’t disturb his wife. He laid down and closed his eyes, letting the lullaby of the raindrops tapping on the window sooth him to sleep.

When the sun filtered in from the bedroom window, Talbott threw the blankets over his head.

“You have to get up eventually,” his wife’s chiding voice came from outside the covers.

“No I don’t,” he called back, a smile creeping onto his lips.

“We’re going to the forest, remember? To explore beyond the yard?”

He felt the weight of the bed shift, the springs in the mattress squeaking as she sat down at the foot.

He relented and sat up, pulling the covers off of his face.

She looked at him, with her big round eyes, misleadingly innocent, a soft smile on her lips. She was already dressed, wearing simple blue jeans and a long-sleeved blue shirt, her hair tied back into a bun, two strands of hair framing either side of her face.

“There you are,” she said, a glint of mischief taking its place in her eyes.

“Here I am,” he repeated before lifting his arms into a powerful stretch, extending his entire upper torso, a yawn accenting his movements.

“Get ready, I’ll be downstairs,” she said, leaning over the bed to peck his cheek before sliding off the bed and walking out.

Now, he really had no choice. He couldn’t keep his wife waiting.

He reflected on their predicament as he got ready for the day. They were treating it like a second honeymoon. If any bystander that they met asked, they were on vacation from two demanding jobs.

Vacation, he mentally repeated as he examined his face in the mirror. A small beard was developing, he hadn’t shaved in a few weeks. Everyone I know could be killed by now, and I’m on vacation. He shook his head to rapidly clear those thoughts. He couldn’t let his mind go down that direction. They were just as safe as he and Alexus.

He ran his hands through his hair, letting it fall where it may before he exited the bathroom, fully dressed. He wore khakis and a grey t-shirt, simple enough, but durable for a walk in the woods. Lastly, from his closet, he grabbed a dark jacket and threw it over his shoulder before making his way downstairs.

Alexus was in the kitchen, reaching through one of the cupboards to grab plates.

Talbott took the opportunity to look over what she was preparing. Bacon on one burner, scrambled eggs on another. He looked at the counter, to see bread in the toaster.

He turned the eggs before kissing the back of her head, reaching above her to grab the plates that were just at the brush of her fingertips.

“What would you do without me?” he said, almost teasingly.

“Get a step-ladder.”

He laughed as two pieces of toast popped up. She quickly took them out and added another slice. He started to prep their coffee.

It wasn’t too long before they sat down at the little table in a dining nook.

While they ate, Alexus was looking through a book of botany, one hand balancing the spine on the table and flicking through the pages, the other holding her fork and messing with eggs that she kept forgetting to actually eat.

He watched her read, her brow furrowing in concentration, her emerald eyes blocked only slightly by her reading glasses, lips slightly parted and occasionally mouthing words, eggs hovering an inch off her plate, occasionally dropping off the fork balanced between her two fingers.

“I thought we banned reading at the breakfast table for this reason,” Talbott remarked casually, snapping her out of her trance.

“Sorry,” she muttered, quickly marking her spot and setting it to the side before she started eating.

“Find anything interesting in the book?” he asked, trying to keep a conversation.

“Well, nothing in particular,” she started, stirring her coffee slightly. Talbott waited for her to finish drinking, knowing that she was about to dump a niche patch of information on him.

“But I just think,” she continued, setting her mug down, “It’s interesting, there’s botany, the study of non-magical plants, but there’s also herbology, which is for magical plants, but there’s also a certain overlap in their medicinal and magical uses.”

He nodded slightly, watching her ramble. The topic she was discussing was rather interesting, but he always found her info-dumping made it more compelling.

“Like, dittany,” she said after a breath. “In herbology and potion making, it’s very powerful for healing purposes, but muggles know about dittany, it’s not just a magical plant. For them, it’s medicinal, ornamental, symbolic of love, used for culinary and perfumery purposes.”

“And?” he asked, encouraging her to state her real point, knowing that her tangent was merely a method of building context to set up her point.

“Why doesn’t someone publish a book containing both muggle and magical herbs?” she asked.

He frowned, biting the inside of his cheek as he thought. “That’s an excellent proposal,” he said, “I suppose we could.”

She tilted her head. “We?” she repeated.

“Well, yes. We’re both talented at Herbology, plus with all the books we read on gardening and other botanical research, we’d both be qualified enough.” He shrugged before taking the last bite of his toast.

She nodded before she continued eating. He could see the gears turning in her head.

She remained deep in thought even when they both finished breakfast and were walking out the door, heading left to enter the forest. There was a fog rolling over the hills and the forest floor, Talbott knew, was caused by the hot October sun evaporating the cold, wet air leftover from last night’s rain. It created a certain ambience as they walked along the natural pathway, the light of the sun breaking through the red and orange canopy and catching on the omnipresent mist.

The forest was cold, almost a biting chill, the shade of the trees only adding to that cold.

Talbott reached for her hand, and they walked together, keeping close for warmth.

There was a natural pathway to the forest, nothing paved, no stepping stones. Just a clearing of trees.

“What do you think we’ll find out here?” Talbott asked after a second of walking, the villa no longer visible behind them.

“Other than memories?” Alexus contemplated his answer, “My father, he wrote some poetry about this place. He called it Sunset Forest. I remember he described finding groves of berry bushes, small streams flowing into ponds, rabbits.”

“I didn’t know he was a poet,” Talbott said.

“Only in his spare time. That’s what my mum would tell me. He kept journals and filled them with poetry, ever since he was young. She gave me a box full of them for my 13th birthday.”

She let go of his hand to jump over a large branch that had fallen in the path. Talbott stepped over it and looked up, hearing a persistent little hammering on a tree trunk, knowing it was a woodpecker.

“Do you still have his journals?” he asked, looking back at her.

“Most of them,” she replied, reaching for his hand. “Jacob took some of his more… contemporary and political stuff. Apparently, he went through a phase, from what I could tell.”

Talbott laughed. “How so?”

“Well, in the journals from his early adult years, they were mostly about society and war.”

“Ah,” he nodded in understanding. He knew Alexus had a small dislike for contemporary poetry, especially when they were about war.

She believed that every good story deserved a love, whether it be a tragedy or a happy ending.

“I also brought a few journals with me, to the villa,” she muttered. “I know we were only supposed to pack essential things, but I just wanted-”

“You don’t have to make excuses to please me,” he quickly assured her. “I understand, it’s important to you.”

She stopped in her path, making him stop with her. “Would you like to hear some? I memorized a couple about this forest.”

“I would love to,” he assured her.

She hummed a bit, leaning against his arm as she thought, mentally searching her internal catalog of poetry. For a second, it was quiet, with just her humming and the sound of yellow leaves and twigs being crushed under foot.

“Okay,” she said finally, “This one is called La Bruja de Rosa. He wrote it after my mum told him she was a witch. His response was to propose to her.”

Talbott laughed again as she cleared her throat.

“Smoothed down by the steps Of the many men that have taken this road Before my first breath This forestry path with the stories untold

My story is mine My head is mine My heart is yours La bruja de rosa

Mi bruja de rosa, I walk this path Guided by your spell From my childhood villa To a love meant to last Oh, the story this ground could tell

Magical in the way you take my breath Oh, enchantress of my soul! Meet me at Gaia’s archway, for apart for me, is living death but together, I am whole

You are my other half On the Sunset Forest path, A compliment to me my flying rose, I offer you my prose and the villa To build our own castillo To last for years But only if You’ll say “yes” My dear”

Talbott let out a breath as she finished. “That was nice,” he muttered.

“My mother’s maiden name was Espartero-Rosales. Espartero was her mother’s last name, the one tied with my magical side of the family. But Rosales, it means “rose bush,” so there was a lot of rose symbolism in his poetry after he met her,” she explained.

“Espartero,” he repeated, humming a bit before a thought struck him. This time, he froze in his path, causing her to look back at him.

“Wait,” he looked at her, “Like, the Espartero family in Mexico?”

“Did I not mention that before? I mean, you know my mom was in both the European and Mexican Quidditch Hall of Fa-”

“You told me she played for Spain!”

“Yeah, she played for the Leona Madrid team after playing for the Mexican World Cup team!”

“You never told me you came from the most influential family in developing Herbology research!”

She started laughing as she turned to him. He wasn’t angry, it was more than likely shock manifesting in him.

She placed her hands on his chest and smoothed out his jacket. “Yes, that is my close family, yes, I keep in touch with them, and yes, we can visit them.”

She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Satisfied?”

He gently wrapped his arms around her waist. “Very.”

She cupped his face into her hands and brushed his cheek with her right thumb before standing on her toes to kiss him on the lips, just for a second.

He moved one hand, placing it over hers to hold it in place as he turned his head to kiss her palm.

She smiled, staring up at him. “I love you, and we will get through this. Both of us. I promise,” she assured him.

“I will never let anything happen to us,” he murmured.

She looked into his eyes, that brilliant crimson, the sharpness of his intellect just as alluring as the day she met him, even now, after everything.

They had been married for a good two years, and it all passed like a dream for her. From the moment he got down on one knee, to when they were running home to grab their pre-packed luggage to escape Death Eaters.

He made life a dream for her, still, even in hiding, where they were the only two people in the world. He gave poems and stories she had memorized for years a new life. He gave her motivation when she had none. Hope when she was hopeless. Love when she needed it.

He was a dream for her, still, even after knowing each other for ten years. She loved him as easily as she did when they were younger, it was breathing to her.

But she was being greedy and she knew it. Neither two years nor ten was not enough for her.

She wanted so much more, she wanted what she vowed to: life. After all the danger she ran into headfirst as a youth, she knew life was not promised to her. Not when there was danger still chasing her, when she was awake, and in the dark nights where her dreams left her gasping in a cold sweat, reaching for him, depending on him to be the rock to anchor her back to reality.

Those were terrible nights, when she would sit up, in tears, trying to understand, trying to make sense of why everything she held dear was so fragile. Everyone she loved, they could be gone in a flash, and she didn’t understand it, she couldn’t understand why.

Why did so many things threaten to rip her friends and family from her hands? Why could she never escape the mysteries, the curses? She never wanted any of it, never wanted a reputation for breaking curses, defeating evil. She never wanted the things that threatened to rip Talbott from her hands. She just wanted him. She wanted to be there for him so much, it physically hurt. It was an ache in her chest, a lack of breath in her lungs.

She loved him too much, and she was being greedy because of it.

She loved him and just wanted a life with him. But the war outside the villa was just another thing that threatened to steal him from her.

She was going to spend her whole life with him; she was certain of that fact. What terrified her was how little time that could be. Three minutes, three days, three months. None of it was certain.

Nothing was promised to Alexus, except Talbott.

She stood back up on her toes and kissed him again, he leaned down so she didn’t have to strain so much.

She was so warmed by him, by his hands exploring her, by his lips moving against her own, until a bitter chill swept through a forest, a rustling wind shaking the trees.

Alexus pulled away, shivering, pulling her jean jacket closer around her.

She would have passed it off as a simple October breeze, until everything quieted, the sounds of the forest, the rustling of the leaves, the sounds of animals in the distance, it all went mute. The shadows of the trees grew longer, the sunlight disappearing, the fog taking a much more sinister presence now, heralding a threat, just lurking outside their field of vision. The only thing she heard was Talbott’s own shuddering breath, which puffed out like white smoke from his mouth.

In her stomach, a pit of dread was lodged, making her unsettled.

“T-Talbott,” she whispered through chattering teeth.

He pulled out his wand, she followed suit, and they moved to stand back-to-back.

She watched the fog, until she saw what she was looking for. A hooded figure, looming in the banks, gliding across the forest floor.

“Dementor!” she called before waving her wand, remembering her wedding night, the happiness she felt when Talbott slid the ring on her finger. A patronus of a coyote bounded from the tip and sprang in front of her, rushing at the dementor, sending it away before it could get closer.

“This way too!” Talbott called, another dementor appearing.

She turned on her heel, her and Talbott switching spots as the coyote ran, chasing away the second one.

Immediately, the air cleared, the soft October breeze rustled the canopy, the morning sun returned, even the fog seemed to fade now.

She expelled the patronus and looked at Talbott. “We have to leave, that wasn’t a coincidence,” she whispered, grabbing his hand and pulling him back down the forest path.

They ran to the villa, stumbling over tree trunks and branches, sliding on the golden leaves still wet with morning dew.

Alexus ran into the villa first, but the second she was through the door, a powerful blast sent her flying back, colliding into Talbott, sending him back as well, both of them rolling across the grassy lawn.

“Damn,” Alexus groaned, moving to stand up, clutching her stomach.

“Are you alright?” Talbott asked, sitting up,

“Fine,” she assured him, sliding her wand back into her hand. “But whoever just hit me with a jinx is going to be sorry.”

He pulled out his wand as well and stood up as a wizard, a snatcher, by the looks of his ratty robes, strolled out of the home.

“I wouldn’t try it, Johnson, we’ve got you surrounded,” he drawled casually.

There was a series of snaps as several other snatchers apparated in a circle around Talbott and Alexus.

“Johnson-Winger, I’m a married woman,” Alexus corrected, standing up. “And, I like my odds.”

She did a once-over, glancing over her shoulders, that was all she needed to do, Talbott was aware of that fact. All she needed was one look to gain an accurate account of where everyone was in relation to her own position.

Talbott dove for the ground as she waved her wand in a circle around her head, fire billowing out in a ring around them, pushing the Snatchers away from them.

Standing up, turning on his heel, Talbott fired hex after hex around him, nailing four of the seven snatchers in the chest, sending them down.

“Go inside, I got them!” Alexus called as she sent a particularly nasty hex at the most physically imposing thug.

Talbott ran inside, Alexus standing against two snatchers, both of them holding up their wands.

“Neat trick, Johnson,” the leader said, still standing.

“I’ve had a good amount of practice, didn’t they tell you my background?”

“Why do you think we brought so many?”

With that, they both snapped their wands forward, Alexus stepping to the side, dodging a glaring red jinx, but the second spell had her wand flying out of her hand, landing in the thick grass somewhere behind her.

“Damn,” she whispered before looking back at them.

“No wand, no magic,” the second one said.

Alexus planted one foot behind herself and aimed her hand forward.

She jerked her hand, red sparks shooting from her palm, colliding with the second-in-command, sending him flying back, unconscious.

“Ever heard of wandless magic?” Alexus asked as she turned to the last wizard. “Got any more tricks up your sleeve?”

He lowered his wand.

There was a shift behind Alexus, but before she could react, a pair of thick arms wrapped around her and lifted her up, pinning her arms to her sides.

She responded by slamming her head back as hard as she could into the person’s nose, prompting them to drop her. While they were occupied, she grabbed their wrist and arm, pulling it over her shoulder while hooking her foot behind his ankle, lifting him up enough to flip him over his shoulder.

She kept his arm in her hands, twisting it when he landed on his back, while placing her foot on his chest, keeping him pinned. There was a snapping noise, which was probably his shoulder, and he was yelling.

Alexus, satisfied, jumped back as the initial snatcher tried to hex her.

She quickly retreated, moving behind a snatcher who was slowly climbing to his feet. She grabbed this one by the front of his shirt and hoisted him up to his feet before turning around, using him as a shield, the lead snatcher’s hex hitting his back instead of her, forcing her to drop him as he went dead limp.

She grabbed his wand and ignored its hostile energy as she pointed it forward, right as the lead snatcher was about to hex her. They were at a draw, both ready to take each other out, but the question was, who would go first?

Alexus didn’t find out.

Before she could try, there was a small explosion at the wizard’s feet, sending him jumping back before Talbott sent another hex at him, pushing him back again.

Alexus, satisfied as her husband handled the last one, looked around the grass, running her hands through it before she found her hand.

She went around the other six snatchers and confounded them, casting obliviate on the conscious ones before taking all their wands and throwing them around the yard, some of them ending up in a pond. This would make it harder for them to find Talbott and Alexus again.

“Ready to go?” Talbott asked, holding their bags as she walked back to the house, the tent bundled at his feet.

She grabbed the tent and held it under one arm, placing her hand on his shoulder. “Ready,” she said before kissing his cheek.

With that, they disapparated away from the villa.

#hphm #hphm mc #hphm jacob's sibling #hphm talbott #talbott winger #jacob's sibling #talbott x jacob's sibling #talbott x mc #talbott winger x jacob's sibling #talbott winger x mc #acj writes #hphm talbott winger

42 notes · View notes

lilac-skies-and-love-hearts · 4 years

Text

YES JUJU BEING FRONT RUNNER

Ngl think this could be indias downfall

I love crackers coat

SHEAS FIT UGH A QUEEN

Are u fucking kidding me.... jeffree star

India looks GOOD tbf

YESSSS ALEXIS IS KILLING IT

Juju looks like art arya from.drag race thailand

Rus dying sksksksksk

I see a joint win

Well Blair cracker and India bottom

A Deserved win

INDIA NEESA TO GO

Oooo i love rus dress

Don't omg im missing my prom next week :(((

YES ALEXUS

JUJU LOOKS SO GOOD

OMFHDJDHDJSHS SHEA

AHHHH THE ROSE PETALW

Awwww shea

YESSS SHE WON

TEAAAAAAA

OMG I HATE ATHIS

Omfg no don't get rid of AlexiS

BEEF

Alexiis is fucked and I'm actually so upset

WHAT HAPPENEDDDDD

IDK WHO TO BELIEVE

GAHAHAHHA juju is me

SHEAS LIP SYNC FIT

VANJIE???

YES SHEA WHAT AN ICON

Shit alexis is fucked

there is some fucjing game playing

#as5 #all stars

4 notes · View notes

themisfitsedge · 4 years

Text

Delilah: Find your passion

You remember that day like it was just yesterday, your body was sore from the training and wary of the days yet to come but you pushed on. Alexus glowered down at you as she stood at mother’s side as disappointment cascaded from their faces like the cold droplets of a waterfall. You had come in 4th. They had expected better things of you, though you all knew to expect the best from her, your sister, the golden child, the prodigy, the future heiress. How could you possibly compete for 1st place when she was the only one who ever took it?

Still you find yourself swimming laps one more time, not because it was expected of you but because you wanted to swim. Because the water felt wonderful on your skin, soft like moss and just as refreshing as the first breath you took after running a mile. And when you stopped your body felt its pull and you saw your hair flowing past you as it twirled around in magnificent patterns that would never be repeated. It felt like you were dancing in the water, your body spinning in a spiral like a leaf twirling as it fell from the highest branch. You felt beautiful.

But then you saw her, Vistra, the youngest of you all, fragile like sea glass but sharp as it too. When it counted of course. She thought you didn't know that she disappeared most days but you always knew, you were no fool despite what everyone thought of you and despite how you may have portrayed yourself. You understood your sister is better than you understood yourself some days and as you had always done before, you follow.

You wove through rocks and hills and seaweed, careful to conceal yourself, but never to far from the youngest, and when she launched herself out of the water and began to race along the beach you were none to surprised to see the small figure that ran to meet her. To see Vistra giggle and run and hold hands with the girl she had met only a few months prior filled your heart with joy, glad she had finally made a friend, finally found someone who she could connect with. Even if it did leave you feeling lost, wanting.

Still as you lean your head against the rocks that hid you and as you feel the warm surface press against your skin you can't help but notice what the two of them held between their hands. Your eyes narrow as you try to decipher what you were seeing and you lift your head up and tilt it in question.

It was a book of sorts. No, not a book, a magazine.

The sight of it caused you you lean forward and press yourself up against the rocks, eager to know exactly what the two of them had found. But before you can stop yourself you feel your body teeter forward and you gasp as your hand slips from the smooth surface of the your rocky shelter and into the water. You lurched forward, almost slamming your chin onto the hard service, and only missing it by mere inches as you caught yourself, but the damage was already done. Your sister had seen you.

For a moment she stood there in stunned silence before she looked over at Doll, a quick haze of panic settling over her features. You knew she was trying to determine whether or not you were a threat. It broke your heart to think that you would be the cause of such panic, of such fear. But then a hand reached out and caught her attention, Doll coaxed Vistra’s gaze to her own and the two of them spoke in hushed whispers before your sister seemed to nod.

And then she’s called out to you.

She gestured for you to come closer and after a moment you nod, diving under the water and swimming up as fast as you could, though the moment your legs touched land they felt loose as jelly fish. Always felt so weird up here, so off balance, you wondered if you could ever get used to it. Your eyes flickered between them and you smiled shyly before your eyes landed on the magazine again.

Doll looked at you curiously before seeing how hungrily you eyed the magazine and she held it out with a question leaving her lips. “Wanna see?” You bit your lip and grinned before nodding enthusiastically and hurrying to take the magazine as the other two seemed to hover over your shoulders. All at once Vistra’s body seemed to relax and a smile came on to her face. All her fear seeming to drain out at once before she shuffled in close to see.

The three of you giggled excitedly as you flipped through the pages, commenting about the products, the faces, and the lives you all knew you were never destined to lead. And then you saw her. An indigo model standing there and the most beautiful dress you had ever seen. Sharp blues and purples swirled among black lace and silk dark as night before knotting together eloquently to form a rose along the waist as the black beaded neckline accentuated and framed the woman’s features. She was beautiful.

And for a moment you didn’t even hear the voices at your sides chatting about how lovely it all was. All you could focus on was that woman, that dress, and the life you now desperately wanted to lead.

#long post #delilah: find your passion #delilah things #vistra things #doll things

3 notes · View notes

thatonecurlygirl · 5 years

Note

hello sweet! can i ask for a peter x reader with the prompts 40# "Did you think of me at all when you were having sex with her?" 71# "I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretend they are you" And a bomb ass smut with all of this please?

Pairing: Peter x Reader

Word Count: ~3k

Warning: ANGST & SMUT

A/N: Woo, sorry I took so long to get this out, but I really hope you enjoy it.

Long, long legs. That’s the first thing you noticed about her. Her tanned skin going well with the velvety-red, thigh length dress she was sporting. Her shorter, blond hair frames her face perfectly and her green eyes, striking. You can’t keep your eyes off of her, watching her every move — maybe it’s jealousy. Okay, it sure as hell is jealousy. You watch as she dances, hips sway sensually, body pressed tight against the man she is with, the man you are very familiar with.

“Look, we can go back to my place and get wine drunk if you want.” Amelia, your best friend says from beside you.

“No, I’m not going to let… that… ruin our nice night out. So let’s just get drunk here and do what we came here to do — have fun.” You turn around on the stool so you no longer have to see.

“That’s my girl.” Amelia smiles wide and holds two fingers up to the bartender, pointing down at your two empty shot glasses. “Next round is on me.”

Amelia smiles wide calling for two more shots to be sent your way. As you wait, you casually glance back out to the dance floor. Now they stand facing each other, his hands on her hips as they continue to dip and sway. Her hands are gripping the collar of his shirt, pulling him down to her lips. His hands gently squeeze her ass before they pull away. Once she nods toward the bar where you are, you quickly turn around.

“He’s fucking her.” You sigh.

“What? You don’t know that.” Amelia scoots the new shot to young holds up two fingers, knowing you both will need more.

“Yeah, I do.” You take the shot and wince as it does down. “He wouldn’t dare touch her like that if they weren’t. We slept together a handful of times before he was comfortable enough for any PDA besides quick kisses.”

“Here you ladies go.” The bartender says with your shots before going to the next person.

“Shit,” Amelia says quietly beside you.

Looking over, you see Peter and the girl take the empty spot next to you at the bar. The blonde separating you and him. You watch Peter look over, eyes going wide as he realizes you are right there.

“Y/n?” He asks, seemingly confused or surprised, maybe both.

“Oh, you know her?” The girl asks looking at you, brows raised and smile wide.

You hate her already. Well, you hated her the moment you saw them together. That smile made you hate her more.

“Uh, yeah I-” Peter swallows hard before being out off.

“Oh, hi. I’m Alexus!” She extends her hand to shake yours.

You look down at her hand and slowly back up to her face before mumbling your introduction that makes her pale.

“Y/n, the ex-fiancé.” You throw back your shot before looking back to her. “Nice to meet you, or whatever.” You look at her and then up at Peter before turning and walking toward the door, Amelia close behind.

“Hey babe, you wanna talk about it?” She asks as you make it outside of the club, walking down the dark street and taking in the fresh air.

“It was just getting a little stuffy in there, but I’m fine.” You nod your head, fanning yourself with your hand.

“You know you can’t bull shit me, Y/n, so don’t even try.” She scoffs, resting her hands on her hips, watching you stop to lean against a building.

“I’m just going to go home. I’m not feeling this tonight.” You motion back to the club while shaking your head. “I truly am fine, I just — I want to go to sleep and not think about that.”

“Okay,” She nods. “I think that’s a good idea. Do you want me to ride home with you?”

“No, I don’t want you going out of your way. I’ll be fine to take my own Uber, thanks though.”

Amelia nods and pulls her phone from her small purse, requesting an Uber. The two of you sit against the wall and wait until your individual rides come to get you. The ride to your house is a relatively short one, but the opposite direction from the way Amelia is going.

Once you arrive home to your apartment, you trudge up the stairs and as you go to unlock the door to get in, you hear someone clear their throat behind you. Startled, you stand there, frozen in place with your heart beating rapidly. Your keys barely in the door and the hair on the back of your neck stand.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He says… He, as in Peter.

Hearing his voice, you somewhat relax, knowing he’s not here to murder you, but the tension is still pretty thick and uncomfortable. Pushing your key the rest of the way into the lock, you refuse to look back at him.

“What do you want?” Your voice coming off annoyed.

“To talk… Please.” He begs.

“What is there to talk about, Peter?” You throw your arms in the air, turning to face him. “Huh? What is there to say that hasn’t already been said?”

“That I’m sorry.” He takes a step closer to you and you scoff in disbelief.

“Oh, right.”

Turning around you turn the key and push open the door. For a moment you just stand in the doorway, not saying anything and not moving, contemplating whether or not you should go inside and invite him in too.

“Who’s the blonde?” You ask, back still turned toward him. “You’re new girlfriend?”

“No, just a friend I’ve gone on a couple dates with.” You can practically hear him shaking his head and see those puppy dog eyes you fell in love with.

“You’ve gone on a couple dates, you’ve fucked her… If I’m not mistaken, that sounds a lot like a girlfriend.” You step inside your apartment, motioning him in with a loud sigh.

“I never said anything about sleeping with, Alexus.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Peter. I know you better than that.” You make your way to the kitchen, pouring yourself a gland of wine. “I just don’t get it. How can you break off a three-year relationship including the five months we were engaged and wind up balls deep in some other bitch.” Your voice very blasé as you take a drink of the wine.

“Y/n, I was going through a lot and-”

“Oh, I fucking know you were going through a lot Peter! I picked up my damn life and moved out here after your father died. I was right beside you the day Pam recognized you and I sat up with you all night when she died! I was right there, Peter, right fucking there!” Tears well up in your eyes and begin to fall. “And what did you do? You broke it off, you dropped me. I get that you were hurting, but I expected you to realize what you did. I waited by the phone and was ready and willing to mourn with you. I waited for five months and when I finally decide that it is time for me to get out of the house and do something for myself, I find you have already been sleeping with someone else. How long have you been with her?” Your last sentence coming out soft yet still full of emotion.

“Three months.” He says quietly, looking down at the floor.

“Damnit, Peter.” You cry, leaning against the counter and resting your head in your hands. “Did you even fucking think of me?”

“What?” His head snaps up as he looks at you.

“It’s only been five months and you’re already in a three-month relationship with someone else! I can’t believe you. I- I thought you loved me!”

“Y/n, I do. I do love you. I love you so much.” He takes a few steps closer to you, now stepping into the kitchen with you, but you step back to put distance between you too.

“Did you think of me at all when you were having sex with her?” Your voice only growing louder, face growing red, and hands shaking.

‘Y/n, please let-”

“Answer my question, Peter!” You cut him off.

“Yes, yes I did! I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretend they are you! I can’t fuck them without wishing, imagining they were you!” He yells in frustration. Anger at himself boiling up to the surface. “I got lonely and I missed you and I scared that if I asked for you to come back you’d say ‘no’. Alexus was just there.”

“I would have waited the rest of my damn life for you.” Your voice hushed, small and hurt.

“And now?” His voice pained as he looks down at you, taking a few more steps toward you until he is close enough to gently take your chin and tilt it up to look at him.

“I’m… I’m…” you squeeze your eyes closed for a few seconds before opening them and pushing past Peter.

You make it into the living room before he catches up to you, gently grabbing your wrist and turning your back toward him.

“Y/n, please.” He begs quietly.

“I love you, but I feel so…worthless.”

“Baby, please don’t say that.” He pulls you into his strong arms, hugging you. “You are by no means worthless. You are everything.”

“I don’t feel like ‘everything’.” You cry into his chest.

“I know and I am so sorry. I promise if you let me, I will make it up to you ten times over.” He assures you.

“Can you just… Can you hold me for a minute?” You mumble into his chest.

“Absolutely.” He scoops you up and sits on the couch, holding you in his lap as he runs his hand up and down your arm.

The two of you sit there in silence for what seems like forever. He holds you tight to him as if he is afraid to let go. You can feel his heart beating against his chest and you snuggle in, taking in that feeling that you’ve missed. Once you’ve had time to calm down and gather yourself, you look up at Peter. You can see the sadness in his eyes, but you can also see the longing. He smiles back at you with a small, sad smile. Before you realize what you are doing, you’ve shifted in his lap so that you’d have easier access to his lips.

You can feel him tense with shock and confusion when your lips first touch his, but you also feel the moment that it melts away, replaced instead with need. Not completely primal, mostly the need to be connected… and a little bit of lust.

“Does this mean you want me?” You ask, pulling away from his lips slightly.

“I don’t want anything or anyone else but you.” He rests his forehead against yours, slowly and softly running his hands up and down your back.

You press your lips back against his in a bruising kiss that quickly gets heated, desire making it’s way to the forefront. Peter finds the zipper on your dress, once he has unzipped it as far as he can, he trails kisses from your neck to your chest as he slowly pushes it off your shoulders to bunch around your waist.

Peter stands up, holding you to him, legs wrapped around his waist as he makes for your bedroom just down the hall. He bites the skin between your neck and shoulder, sucking on the same spot when he hears you moan. Gently laying you across the bed, he finishes pulling your dress of you. He smirks down at your bare chest, leaning a trail of kisses from your belly button, through the valley between your breasts and up to your mouth, hungrily nipping at your lips.

“I’ve missed you.” He whispers, the words tickling your lips as they come out. “I missed touching you,” His voice gravely.

His large hand ventures down to the apex of your thighs, rubbing you through your panties as he stares down at you. His eyes stare deeply into yours as he slowly leans down kissing you slowly and sweetly. You’ve missed those lips, those hands, this man; you’ve missed him more than you’ve missed anything in your life and now he is right here.

Smirking you push Peter off you and you roll on top of him. Helping him pull his shirt over his head as he sits up, moaning as you grind yourself against his hard erection, layers of clothing separating the two of you. You trail soft bites and kisses down his chest and stomach. He lifts his hips as you pull off both his pants and underwear. Flattening your tongue and staring into his eyes, you lean down and lick the tip of his hard cock, the deep moan that falls from his lips stirs up your own desire.

“No,” He shakes his head, gently pulling you up toward his lips. “Tonight, I want to take care of you.” He easily pulls you into the spot on the bed beside him before sliding down the bed and positing himself between your legs. He gently kisses the inside of your thighs as he slowly pulls your lace underwear down your legs, throwing them across the room.

“Damn,” He growls before settling there, licking a broad stroke between your folds and pulling you closer to him.

“Oh,” You moan smiling down at him, his eyes full of lust and locked on yours.

You can feel him smile back before his fingers run through the wetness, kissing a trail back to the inside of your thighs. He nips the soft skin there and watches as he slowly slips a finger inside of you, pumping it a few times before he adds another finger. He pushes and pulls his fingers inside of you so agonizingly slow, the act further fueling your need.

“Peter, can you-” Your words broken off a moan when his lips once again find the soft slick flesh between your legs.

“Can I what, baby? What do you want?” He asks, voice deep and husky.

“Fuck me already?” You whimper. “Please god, just fuck me, Peter.” You beg, watching him smirk and crawl over your body.

“Whatever you want, y/n.” He gently caresses your face as he leans in to kiss you.

His phone begins ringing on the floor beside the bed, where is fell from his pant pocket. You ignore it, but you can feel the hesitation on Peter’s lips. The hesitation doesn’t last long as he too ignores it, lining himself up with your entrance. He pulls away from your lips, watching your face as he slowly pushes himself all the way inside you. He watches your mouth fall open and eyes flutter closed as a sweet moan break past your pink, swollen lips.

“Ohh yes, Peter.” You grip his biceps as he slowly thrusts inside of you. “Fuck me harder.”

Peter does just that, hips snapping hard and fast, pushing you further up the bed until you are holding onto the cool metal of the headboard to prevent the knocks your head would otherwise take against it.

It’s not long before Peter’s phone starts ringing again. Unlike last time he doesn’t falter, instead, he snakes a hand down between your bodies, rubbing his fingers again the tight aching bundle of nerves right there. A jolt goes through your body heat flushing your skin quickly follows, adding to the sweat both you and Peter have already been mixing together.

“Damn y/n, I’ve missed this so much.” He moans, fingers moving quickly against you. “Holding you, fucking you, the face you make when you come.”

“So close.” You moan quiet and whisper-like as your legs shake and your body vibrates as you near ecstasy.

“I know baby, I can feel you.” He leans down, teeth grazing your ear. “It’s okay, just let go. I’ve got you.”

His next hard, deep thrust paired with the words whispered in your ear sets you off. Back arching and body shaking another wave of heat washes over your body. Peter gives only a few more thrusts before he comes, hips slowing to a stop before he pulls out and collapses on the bed beside you.

“Damn.” You breathe out, cuddling into Peter’s chest as he pulls you in close to him.

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, taking in what just happened. Both you and Peter lie there, legs tangled and catching your breath. His fingers trail up and down your side in soft, tickling motions. He kisses your temple and his fingers abruptly stop, no longer caressing your skin.

“Will you take me back?” He says quietly, sorrow and fear filling every syllable of each word spoken.

“Peter,” You turn to face him. “That was her calling wasn’t it?” You ask, referring to the phone on the floor.

“Yeah,” Peter says simply, looking away from your face and to the small freckle on the left side of your chest, right above your breast.

“You should call her.” You smile small, tears brimming your eyes. “Get that taken care of before we go any further with this.”

Peter’s eyes widen as he looks at you, “Of course.” He nods.

“I think there’s something we need to work on and talk about. We aren’t going to be able to pick up where we left off. If you’re willing to put in some work, I’m more than happy to give it another shot.”

“Anything we need to do, just as long as I have you back.” He says against your skin as he softly presses a kiss to your forehead.

#peter stone #peter stone x reader #Peter Stone Fic #law and order svu #svu fic #svu #smut #angst

124 notes · View notes

thetristoneera · 11 months

Text

Story 01: the Order… About four minutes of me explaining where majority of the story takes place. Solar System Vassichiri of Galaxy Vassichiri; it’s the heart of the galaxy. It’s the most special galaxy in this universe, the Crown is known as the god that created this universe. All intelligent humanoid societies know that as every “January 2nd”, he will crown several different humanoids across the universe for being the best of their society. Sometimes, he’ll gift an entire group of people for their efforts with magical might. So when you make it to this universe, aim for being strength based; across all attributes or never be crowned with a series of wishes. 🤙🏽

Character groupings I’ve created so far…

Milez Diguzto Emissary / the Super Warrior Guild (Planet Aurlus)

Mildrivon Order / (Planet Raugune)

Lips Alexus / the Super Warrior Guild (Outer Space, Via Cruise Liner Spaceship)

Stadium Cult / the Super Warrior Guild (Outer Space, Via Cruise Liner Spaceship)

Sixelors / the Super Warrior Guild (Planet)

Security / the Super Hero Guild (Planet Xorol)

#Story 01 #Solar System Map #Fantasy Solar System #Space Age Fiction

0 notes

peppermintstranger · 5 years

Note

do you have any faces for a girl (19-24) who’s either black or mixed but with full lips, pretty eyes, and good facial structure (jawline, cheekbones etc) ? who looks like justine skye, tee kissen? looks like a boss lady and BIG bad b**** energyy 💜 thank you so much!!!!

Hello!

You have: Diamond White, Tati Gabrielle, Ajiona Alexus, Samantha Logan, Ryan Destiny.

Hope it helps c:

4 notes · View notes

thanatophobix-blog · 5 years

Note

🖊 + all do it coward

Yelling about my OCs // ACCEPTINGRabbit, you are a fool and so am I. I’m just gonna, like… give a headcanon per OC on this blog under the cut.

Achilles - His semblance is called Disconsolate. It makes others able fully feel what he is feeling, from absolute sorrow, blind rage, to pure joy, right down to the last ounce of pain he gets from a paper cut. It can take over other people’s rational thinking processes and make them react as he would, which is often never good (and leads to his death).

Alexus - She doesn’t have any real senses, even if she says its a simulated thing, she has none. She’s a cpu program! HOWEVER, she can still smell charred flesh from when her girlfriend shocked & burned to death. It’s burned into her mind even though her mind can no longer comprehend what a sense is.

Artharrachadh - Doesn’t actually like 7/11 or gas stations, they just give off the vibe he strives for in life. The mystery, the scandals, the robberies. It’s so out in the middle of nowhere that its perfect. Although, thanks to 7/11 he developed an addiction to slushies. Cherry/blue raspberry, for our god of liminal spaces, baby!!

Cas - Her powers have limits. Without her power retaining equipment (essentially, a choker, two bracelets, and two ankles), she would have ripped herself into shreds after a few usages of her powers. Her speed could send her cells into different dimensions, her ‘pyrokinesis’ could set herself on fire since she is not impervious to fire, and if she uses her luck too much, karma returns the favor with brain bleeds.

Cephriel - As angelic as they are, they are more monstrous and demonic than they’d like to admit. They eat sinners alive for nourishment, but it is all for the holy conquest. Plus, the more souls they consume, the stronger they get. The stronger they get, the quicker they can accomplish the holy conquest.

Dolores - She really wanted to get back in touch with her son but she could never find him. She went back to LA looking for him only to find that he’d been adopted and shipped off to Germany. She felt so, so horrible. It’s her fault that he was sent off to a totally abusive household and she lives with that guilt so, so horribly.

Dominique - Has never once acted like a true criminal, more like a robin hood type figure. He doesn’t kill, he doesn’t hurt, he doesn’t do anything like that, the worst he does is steal from the rich and give to the poor. Either through charity donations or through mysterious wads of cash showing up at people’s houses. However, since he steals from the rich and not the poor, that makes him evil for the media.

Eirian - Has never been one for conflict. Avoided school drama all throughout high school (minus his tiff with Lizzie which was created by him being an idiot). Now he’s running from town to town with an eldritch being chasing after him with so many guns in the back seat of his truck its almost fucking criminal. He’s learned, so, so much combat things that it scares him. He’s practically a weapon himself.

Erik - Has the hardest time keeping the ‘we’re all monsters or demons’ secret a secret out of all of Clearfall’s citizens, and he’s the one that made the whole thing happen. Lucky for him, Corey Booker, the human reporter, is kinda dense. Unlucky for Erik, he thinks that Corey is hot shit and would gladly sell him his soul to stay in Clearfall. But, for Corey to stay in Clearfall, he’d have to be turned into either a werewolf or a vampire but he doesn’t want to do that because Erik’s both a wimp and doesn’t wanna hurt

Eva-Marie - In Hell, everyone wears the sign of how their died. People shot have their bullet wounds, knife wounds, the blood loss makes you incredibly lethargic and cold, sickness makes you permanently sick and tired, burning makes you always feel like you’re on fire, and maybe you are! But Eva-Marie doesn’t show signs of her death, or at least, not if you’re not paying attention. She has perfect posture and never lowers her head, the thick choker on her neck is blood red, sometimes she starts choking and coughing up blood. She was killed via beheading, and she takes perfect care to make sure that her head never falls off.

Fane - Has extreme commitment and attachment issues because of how many loved ones he has lost. He couldn’t save… anyone. When one of his last surviving relatives, his great great great great hella fucking great nephew, Lucas, died, he was there. Fane was teaching him how to drive and they got in an accident because Lucas couldn’t take his fucking foot off the gas because he was scared shitless and they got whacked by a semi and Fane has never, ever forgiven himself for that. Or any other of the deaths.

Florian - Is destined to become fully evil, and will thrive in that evil. He was never meant to be a florist, to live and survive off of cuddles on couches and cheap pays for a good job well done. At the end of the day, he has a strong sadistic streak that was never fulfilled as a child. Florian is all smiles and no substance on the inside, and was going to kill himself if he ever had to live another second in that flower shop doing nothing, that’s what the explosion was, an attempt to end it. Now? He’s soft and sweet on the outside as a cover, and on the inside, he’s ready to seduce your husband and blow up your house.

Fritz - Doesn’t need to sleep and doesn’t sleep. You see, on his home planet, people move so fast that sleeping was essentially something of a social death sentence. Entire empires would rise and fall while one of them was asleep, your wife could start another family and leave you behind because you would be out cold for another millennia. SO! To bypass that, they engineered a serum that would alter their chemical makeup so they’d be constantly producing energy to replace sleep.

Henri - Does not miss being a royal. She knows that the second she gets back, she’ll be forced into an arranged marriage with a guy who a) she will never love because she is a lesbian to every degree and b) she hates anyway, the guy’s a fuckin’ douchebag to every degree. She just wants to stay in NYC with the punk rock and the grunge and the Crownweaver gig with her punk gf, Dex, and never look back.

Jack - Used to be a Team Spectre Admin. Dated Salem for years, was there when the whole team got launched under Salem’s reign. They were really, really into the whole thing too, believed that the world would be better if they could just wipe everyone’s memory clean and start over with the same people, but have everyone listen to a group ‘concerned about their health, their sanity and their well-being’. Eventually realized that it was all bullshit, all of it, shit, bullshit, and that Salem? Asshole! Shit boyfriend, shit person, shit… just shit. Left, went legit, went good.

Julia - Knows everything about you. She has no clairvoyance or telepathy or omniscience or anything like that, but she knows everything about you. She has connections, her connections have connections, she’s met practically everyone in town and if she doesn’t know everything about you when you first meet? You can be sure that she’s going to hunt down someone who at least knows something. She’s incredibly well informed, scarily well informed, and also good at social cues.

Kennedy - Killed a man in university. It was her first kill and by far, her favorite. The rush she felt, the understanding of why people murder for fun, it made her understand. She had a knife on hand, took it out of the restaurant she was eating at just beforehand and completely forgot about it, but she was glad she had it. She gutted him, top of the chest all the way down to the lower stomach, and she hanged him from a fire escape by his own intestines. He was coming onto her and she was not about that life, rest in peace, fucker.

Klaus-Michael - Has a really hard time hiding his job from his father, aka the Spider-Gold job. Yes, his father is in Germany and Klaus-Michael himself is in NYC, however, it is a requirement between the two that they have a video call once a week. He comes home after fighting off an army of bad guys with so many bruises and so many cuts and dings and busted lips and broken bones and casts and oxygen tanks that his dad should be suspicious, especially since his dad is a genius. But, Klaus-Michael always seems to have some sort of excuse tucked up his sleeve.

Liz - Finds Atlantis. She does! With help, she arrives, and, unlike the dis.ney movie, there is no one alive. Skeletons line the streets of the drowned city, the location is crumbling, and she is horrified. The haunted location gives her the creeps the second she is in there, and for good reason, because something is watching her. Not something living, but machinery, and once it catches up to her, it brands her on her side for the rest of her life. A marking, a warning.

Lizzie - Has slight celestial heritage. Didn’t think Arhkangelskaya was chosen as her last name for a reason? It was! While she doesn’t have archangel blood per say, she has guardian angel blood, and that’s what brings her back (her ghost back) from the dead to look after Eirian’s dumb fucking ass. The guardian angel blood comes from her great grandfather who was her great grandmother’s guardian angel, ever since then, the arhkangelskayas have returned as ghosts to the person they feel needs the most help.

Lori - Is destined to die at the age of twelve. In a way, she feels invincible because who in their right mind would kill a child? She thinks, that, because she’s so young, nobody is gonna raise a finger against her when she walks in to kill them, because she thinks that they don’t think that she’s going to kill them! And then, one day, she realizes that everyone is an assassin and assassins don’t have rules, assassins just want money. And, on that day, that is when she dies.

Lukas - Is not out for anyone but himself and his town. If you die, and it’s his fault, it’s not on his conscience. He’s not here to fix your problems, even though he fixes way too many of them anyway, he’s here to get the money and go. He’s here to get enough cash to either buy enough medicine to last him and his hometown years and years and years, essentially ridding them of their poisoning, or, he is going to use that money to entice scientists to search for a cure. He’s tired of having slag course through his veins, it hurts, more than he likes to admit.

Lux - Is not impervious to fire. If she emits it from her body, she only does so from her hands for this reason, she’s not some hum.an tor.ch lookin’ chick, she’s completely human to every regard and her powers are created by machines. She can use her powers of vibrating molecules to a frequency on objects that she is not holding that are within close range, but she can also ‘set the air on fire’ (more like oxidation). She doesn’t realise this, but its how she makes her fireballs. The palms of her hands are incredibly scarred.

Madeleine - Killed a man in self defense and nobody will ever, ever know about it. Or, at least, she hopes so. She doesn’t want anybody to find out about it, because she knows that she’d be sent to jail. Sure, it started out as self defense when the main pulled out a gun at her at semi-close range in an alley way after a case where she sent a criminal away for life and she stabbed him through the heart with her rapier. It was when she took the gun and the sword and started going overkill with panic that it became less about self defense and more like making sure that that guy would never come back. She got an old friend with connections to clean the scene.

Marque - Isn’t trying to provide chaos to provide the world with equal opportunity to rise from the ashes and anarchy as a new, better evolved race, he’s doing it so he can control Giratina and take over the Reverse World. If he takes control of the pokemon, then he is also, by default, the master of the Reverse World. If he allows other to live within the other dimension, he will become their leader by default. And, by causing chaos in Kalos, Sinnoh and the other regions, he will have more and more people wanting to move into the Reverse, gaining more and more subjects and more and more power.

Matthew - Will not be able to survive if he ever leaves the Entity’s realms. His body is emaciated beyond what should be humanly possible (not like the hag is, more like he’s 6′4″ and 90lbs) and he’s surviving based on the Entity alone. His blood is complete and utter drugs at this point and he’s fragile. He’s skeletal, but in the same way that b.ane works, the drugs kind of give him a boost? They give him the strength to keep moving, but he will die if all of them ever get out because he was only a little better than this before he got into the realms.

Myles - Is suffering from unknown internal damage thanks to the facial scar that he is unaware of. The deal with this is, the scar pushed the outer layer of metal inward and, while it hasn’t damaged any of his inner workings yet, if anything happens to his face… welp! A good hit to the cheek, falling head first, anything like that will push the sharp metal further inward and damage his internal wiring. This could potentially be fatal depending on how hard the hit is, or how many times he gets hit. He is very stunned after a good head injury.

Ollie - Is a little hypocrite His whole episode is about the importance of not doing drugs, but in itself, the episode really leans towards how ‘some drugs are good’. Big companies will gladly sponsor a tv show into corrupting the minds of children to think that certain drugs are alright to take by hiding information about them, just like the tobacco industry in the past with cigarettes. Ollie, the pill bottle filled with prescription drugs, may say that some are bad, but he himself offers the pills he contains to the members of the show, getting them addicted, like a fucking hypocrite.

Richard - Wants to move onto news reporting on television, but is held back by Thomas. Their personalities are incredibly similar thanks to the method of their creation, but Richard’s has always been a little bit louder and more personable and much, much more suited for news reporting. He’s always taken to celebrity incidents more, so he’d be suited for something like…. eta.lk or en.tertainment toni.ght. Plus, wouldn’t it be fun to report a death on tv that you caused?

Salem - Does not understand that he is in the wrong. Like, you know how some villains understand that to do some good things, you need to break a few eggs? And they deal with that guilt?? LIke uh, shit, like Negan had guilt on cheating on his wife and all that, like they can realize that they’ve done bad shit? Salem is so insecure that he projects all guilt and anger and anything wrong onto other people. World falling apart? People losing their families to memory loss? Not his fault, all yours.

Shae - Never wanted to be the hero. She’s watched too many superhero movies to see how it all turns out. Metr.oman? From Meg.amind? Yeah, she doesn’t wanna turn out like that, but she knows that she’ll burnout from all the people saving and all the heroics and that one day she might just have to kill her best friend so as sunshine-y as she is she’s always dealing with this black cloud that hangs over her head and heart and it hurts her that the world is always so in danger and she can only do so much. She wants to have a break.

Sinclair - Has never lived for himself. He only ever helps others. When Jack disappeared, he took it upon himself to defeat the Team Spectre residing within the League. He took over so that people could still experience the League even though he didn’t actually technically become the champion. After all that happens, he leaves to go help others because he has nothing else to live for, he doesn’t know what to do but help. Even as a child, he poured himself into others rather than building himself up.

The Boys - Used to travel the world to sate their hunger before fully settling in their new home, a now dead, formerly economically booming, rural town that still sees some people coming in. When they travelled, they were not known as the boys, more as The Figure, as they did not hivemind as much. It is only thanks to their new setting where they take place in the high school like to eat teenagers that they hivemind as seven different boys (the most they can manage with having separate personalities and appearances while still being connected).

Thomas - Once tried to have a family outside out of Richard without Richard knowing to see what it was like. They aren’t connected other than their purpose, so they share no hivemind, just basic personality. He soon realised that a family would not be for someone like him, as they would always die before him, leading him to fake his death so it’d make human sense. He lost track of where his descendants are now, however, he doesn’t care because he’s dependant on Richard.

Virgil - In Agents of Mayhem, Virgil becomes M. Squelette, the title gained when becoming the leader of the Ivory Skeletons. Either way, his Saints Row verse, he still was a member of that gang, but he left the gang life there to move to Stilwater and then got rescooped into it. He has a lot of Saints ink, the fleur de lis and all that shit, one on his neck, y’know. However, he has a piece of Skeletons ink that he refuses to blot out because its… really nice. Like the tattoo artist obviously worked really hard on it and as loyal as he is to the Saints, he also has a large respect for the arts so there is no way in hell he’ll blot out something so nice looking. Besides, he can just pass it off as something he got when he was drunk considering that he never talks about his time as a Skeleton to anyone.

Woodland - Learned how to ‘speak English’ thanks to the dying screams of the people she killed and ate alive. Some people would try and bargain with her, others would just string together a stream of ‘shit’s and ‘no’s. Of course, this doesn’t help when learning English, as you only learn certain words and all their connotations are fucked and disjointed. She tries her best though. Also, she doesn’t actually have a name. Woodland is just a term.

Xander - Found out that he was a god when he didn’t die when he should have. By all means, he should have died. He was in a car accident with some sorta not really friends (all his other friends were in the other car, thank gods) and all the other ones died horrifically. Someone got flung out the windshield and into a tree, someone stepped out of the crash and got hit by a passing truck, when the car caught on fire, two people were stuck inside. Only Xander lived, but he was in a hospital with wounds that should have never healed, but they did. He then got a message from his fathers telling him about his true parentage.

#Ah ha ha. Bless your soul. (answered)#death mention //#suicide mention //#blood mention //#burn mention //#abusive relationship mention //#child death mention //#anorexia mention //#drug mention //#that is a lot of mentions #yikes #this took WAY too long but theres 37 oc headcanon like things #enjoy #time to suffer

1 note · View note

version103 · 6 years

Text

Latin Names - Female: A

ABELIA: From the Latin name of a genus of "honeysuckle." ACACALLIS: Latin form of Greek Akakallis, meaning "daffodil." In mythology, this is the name of a nymph who was the mother of Philandros by Apollo. ACANTHA: Latin form of Greek Akantha, meaning "thorn." In mythology, this is the name of a nymph loved by Apollo. ACCA: In Roman mythology, this is part of the name of the wife of Faustulus, Acca Larentia, who saved the infants Romulus and Remus from drowning in the Tiber river. She was also called lupa, "she-wolf," because of her immoral character, and this is probably what started the tradition that the twins were suckled by a wolf. In another version, she is the mother of the Lares, the dead progenitors of the Roman people. ACCALIA: Latin myth name of the Roman feast held in honor of Acca Larentia, the wife of Faustulus who saved the infants Romulus and Remus from drowning in the Tiber river. ACHILLEA: Feminine form of Latin Achilleus, possibly meaning "he who embodies the grief of the people." This is also the name of a medicinal herb named after Achilles who was said to have treated wounds; but in this case the name is rendered "a thousand leaves" because of the herb's feathery foliage. ACQUILINA: Variant spelling of Roman Latin Aquilina, meaning "eagle." ADALHEIDIS: Latinized form of Old High German Adalheid, meaning "noble sort." ADELA: Latin form of German Adala, meaning "noble." In use by the Danish and Swedish. ADELIA: Variant form of Latin Adela, meaning "noble." ADELPHA: Feminine form of Latin Adelphus (Greek Adelphos), both meaning "born of the same womb; sibling." ADELPHIA: Feminine form of Latin Adelphus, meaning "born of the same womb; sibling." ADOLPHA: Feminine form of Latin Adolphus, meaning "noble wolf." ADORABELLA: Latin name meaning "adored beauty." ADORABELLE: Variant spelling of Latin Adorabella, meaning "adored beauty." ADRASTEA: Variant spelling of Latin Adrastia, meaning "inescapable" or "not running away." ADRASTIA: Latin form of Greek Adrasteia, meaning "inescapable" or "not running away." In mythology, this is the name of a nymph who cared for the infant Zeus, and also an epithet belonging to the goddess Nemesis. ADREANA: Variant spelling of Latin Adriana, meaning "from Hadria." ADRIANA: Feminine form of Latin Adrianus, Spanish Adrián, and Italian Adriano, all meaning "from Hadria." ADSILTIA: Latin name meaning "fair aspect." AEGLE: Latin form of Greek Aigle, meaning "radiance, splendor." AELLA (Greek ?e??a): Greek and Latin variant form of Greek Aellô, meaning "storm wind; whirlwind." In Greek mythology, this is the name of an Amazon warrior who was killed by Herakles. She was known for wielding a double-axe. AELLAE: Latin form of Greek Aellai, meaning "whirlwinds." AELLO: Latin form of Greek Aellô, meaning "storm wind; whirlwind." ÆMILIA: Feminine form of Roman Latin Æmilius, meaning "rival." AGACIA: Medieval form of Latin Agatha, meaning "good." AGATHA: Latin form of Greek Agathe, meaning "good." AGGIE: Pet form of English Agnes, "chaste," and Latin Agatha, "good." AGLAEA: Latin form of Greek Aglaia, meaning "beauty, splendor." In mythology, this is the name of one of the three Graces. The other two are Thalia, "blossoming, luxuriant," and Euphrosyne, "joy, merriment." AGLEA: Variant spelling of Latin Aglaea, meaning "beauty, splendor." AIGLA: Latin form of Greek Aigle, meaning "radiance, splendor." ALCESTIS: Latin form of Greek Alkestis, meaning "might of the home." In Greek mythology, this is the name of a princess who was rescued by Hercules when she descended into Hades in place of her husband. ALCIPPE: Latin form of Greek Alkippe, meaning "mighty mare." In Greek mythology, this was the name of a daughter of Ares. ALCMENE: Latin form of Greek Alkmene, meaning "might of the moon." In Greek mythology, this is the name of the mortal mother of Hercules by Zeus. ALCYONE: Latin form of Greek Alkyone, meaning "kingfisher." In mythology, this is the name of a star-nymph loved by Poseidon. She is the daughter of Atlas and Plêionê. ALECTO: Latin form of Greek Alekto, meaning "unceasing." In mythology, this is the name of one of the Furies (Gr. Erinyes, Eumenides). Virgil named two others: Megaera "grudge," and Tisiphone "murder-retribution." ALENA: Short form of Latin Magdalena, meaning "of Magdala." Compare with another form of Alena. ALEXA: Feminine form of Latin Alexius, meaning "defender." Compare with another form of Alexa. ALEXANDRA: Feminine form of Latin Alexandrus, meaning "defender of mankind." Compare with other forms of Alexandra. ALEXANDREA: Variant spelling of Latin Alexandria, meaning "defender of mankind." ALEXANDRIA: From the name of an Egyptian city. An elaborated form of Latin Alexandra, meaning "defender of mankind." ALEXIA: Feminine form of Latin Alexius, meaning "defender." ALEXINA: Pet form of Latin Alexia, meaning "defender." ALEXIS: Unisex contracted form of Latin Alexius, meaning "defender." ALEXUS: Unisex contracted form of Latin Alexius, meaning "defender." ALOISIA: Feminine form of Latin Aloisius, meaning "famous warrior." ALTHAEA: Latin form of Greek Althaia, possibly meaning "healing." In mythology, this is the name of the mother of Meleager. ALTHEA: Variant spelling of Latin Althaea, possibly meaning "healing." AMALTHEA: Latin form of Greek Amaltheia, meaning "to soothe." AMARA: Short form of Latin Amarantha, meaning "unfading." Compare with another form of Amara. AMARANDA: Variant spelling of Latin Amarantha, meaning "unfading." AMARANTHA: Feminine form of Latin Amaranthus, meaning "unfading." This is also the name of a flower. AMBROSIA: Feminine form of Latin Ambrosius (Greek Ambrosios), meaning "immortal." In mythology, ambrosia is the name of a food or drink of the gods that gives them immortality. ANASTASIA: Feminine form of Latin Anastasius (Greek Anastasios), meaning "resurrection." ANATOLA: Feminine form of Latin Anatolius, meaning "east" and "sunrise." ANDROMEDA: Latin form of Greek Andromede, meaning "thinks like a man/warrior." In mythology, this is the name of the daughter of Cassiopeia who was to be sacrificed to the sea monster Medusa but was rescued by Perseus. Andromeda was said to be an Ethiopian princess. Ancient Ethiopians considered Perseus and Andromeda the progenitors of the black race. This is also the name of a constellation. ANGELA: Feminine form of Latin Angelus, meaning "angel, messenger." ANGELIA: Elaborated form of Latin Angela, meaning "angel, messenger." ANGELINA: Diminutive form of Latin Angela, meaning "little angel/messenger." ANGERONA: Roman myth name of a goddess who relieved men from pain and sorrow. She was also a protectress of Rome and keeper of its sacred name which could not be pronounced lest it be revealed to enemies. In art, she has been depicted with a bandage over her mouth and a finger pressed to her lips, demanding silence. Her festival is called Divalia or Angeronalia and is celebrated on December 21st. Her name was derived from Latin angere, meaning "to throttle, to strangle," i.e. "to silence." ANGERONIA: Variant spelling of Roman Latin Angerona, meaning "to throttle, to strangle," i.e. "to silence." ANNA: Latin form of Greek Hanna, meaning "favor; grace." In the New Testament bible, this is the name of a prophetess in Jerusalem. ANNTHEA: Variant spelling of Latin Anthea, meaning "flower." ANTHEA: Latin form of Greek Antheia, meaning "flower." ANTONELLA: Pet form of Latin Antonia, possibly meaning "invaluable." ANTONETTA: Diminutive form of Latin Antonia, possibly meaning "invaluable." ANTONIA: Feminine form of Roman Latin Antonius, possibly meaning "invaluable." In use by the English, Italians and Spanish. ANTONIETTA: Diminutive form of Latin Antonia, possibly meaning "invaluable." In use by the Italians and Spanish. ANTONINA: Feminine form of Roman Latin Antoninus, possibly meaning "invaluable." APHRODISIA: Feminine form of Latin Aphrodisius (Greek Aphrodisios), meaning "risen from the foam." APOLLONIA: Feminine form of Latin Apollonius (Greek Apollonios), meaning "of Apollo." In the New Testament bible, this is the name of a maritime city of Macedonia, about a day's journey from Amphipolis. AQUILINA: Feminine form of Roman Latin Aquila, meaning "eagle." ARCADIA: Feminine form of Latin Arcadius, meaning "of Arcadia." The place name Arcadia was derived from the word arktos, meaning "bear." ARETHUSA: Latin form of Greek Arethousa, meaning "the waterer." ARIADNE: Latin form of Greek Ariadnê, meaning "utterly pure." In mythology, this is the name of the daughter of King Minos. ARISTA: Feminine form of Latin Aristaeus, meaning "excellence." ARTEMISIA: Feminine form of Latin Artemisius, meaning "safe and sound." ASTRAEA: Latin form of Greek Astraia, meaning "starry one." In mythology, this is the name of a goddess of justice. ATALANTA: Latin form of Greek Atalante, meaning "equal in weight." In mythology, this is the name of the fleet-footed maiden who refused to marry any man who could not beat her in a foot-race. ATHANASIA: Feminine form of Latin Athanasius (Greek Athanasios), meaning "immortal." ATHENA: Latin form of Greek Athene, of unknown etymology, fancifully rendered "mind of God" by Plato. In mythology, this is the name of a goddess of wisdom. Her Roman name is Minerva ("intellect"). ATROPUS: Latin form of Greek Atropos, meaning "cannot be turned; inflexible." In mythology, this is the name of one of the original three Fates. AUGUSTA: Feminine form of Roman Latin Augustus, meaning "venerable." Compare with another form of Augusta. AUGUSTINA: Feminine form of Roman Latin Augustinus, meaning "venerable." AURELIA: Feminine form of Roman Latin Aurelius, meaning "golden." AURORA: Latin name meaning "dawn." In Roman mythology, this is the name of a goddess of morning. Equated with Greek Eos. AVELINA: Latin form of Norman French Aveline, meaning "little Eve."

#names #writing #latin #a #female #female names #latin names #female latin names

3 notes · View notes

thesoftdumbass · 6 years

Text

Wild Blooms

FDR Foster X Reader (This Means War)

I Gift Thee Chris and Karl || @goingknowherewastaken Birthday Challenge, Flower Shop AU

Word Count: 3.2K

Characters: Franklin “FDR” Foster, Alexus (OC), Nana, Tuck, the kid with a bucket on his head from the movie.

Warnings: I think like one cuss word?

Summary: When FDR’s florist moves away, he is forced to find another person to buy flowers for dinner on Saturday nights at Nana’s. Luckily he found you.

A/N: Hey, you guys! I wrote this fic for Katie’s birthday challenge! Sorry it’s a day late, but i’m suck at finishing things on time. I hope you had a fun day and that you like this fic!

This is my first time writing FDR, and I’ve only seen the movie like once, so I hope it’s not too OOC for ya! So without further adieu, let’s get into it!

masterlist

The shop is relatively empty for a Saturday afternoon, but you don’t mind much. You bob your head to the music playing over the loudspeakers as you gather some freesia blossoms to add to a bouquet that’s being prepared for a client’s order. The only other people inside your corner flower shop is a couple looking for flowers for their wedding reception, browsing through a book of your arrangements.

You check on the couple, Tom and Jess, you remember as you’re walking away, to make sure they don’t need anything from you before going back to your task. You’re just wrapping up a group of flowers a few minutes later when you hear the bell above the door chime with a new customer arriving.

“Just a minute,” you call out and receive a “no rush” in return. The bouquet you were finishing up now in the cooler and waiting to be picked up, you make your way back out into the main area of the shop. The buckets that line the shelves are full of beautiful blooms and you take a moment to appreciate their scents on your way to where you heard the man’s voice come from.

“Hi, welcome to Wild Blooms. Can I help you with anything today,” you ask in your pleasant customer voice.

The customer is looking at a bucket of pink carnations with mild interest but turns around at your voice. When he turns his eyes to you, the bright blue blue color stuns you for a moment, his light brown hair falling onto his forehead. Breaking out of your trance, you await his response.

“I’m just looking for some flowers to take to dinner,” he replies, his voice smooth as honey.

“I can help with that. Would you like a custom bunch, a vase, or there are pre-made bouquets that you can choose from,” you offer.

“I may get a pre-made one for today.”

You nod and lead him back to the glass-front cooler where you keep the already made arrangements, some of them made just this morning. “This is what we have for right now. Are you looking for anything in particular?”

“I just want it to be special, can you recommend something?” The man looks at you for your opinion, and he brushes a piece of blond hair from his forehead.

“Well, roses are usually safe. Or if you want something different, this one is pretty special,” you say, pointing out a particular arrangement. It’s beautiful, anemones and blue ranunculus interspersed with Alister roses and sprigs of greenery. He smiles brightly at the colorful flowers.

“These are beautiful! I’ll take them.”

“Alright, I’ll get these and check you out. Come with me,” you nod toward the counter in the back where the register sits, already grabbing the flowers from the cooler and heading in that direction. You pull some brown paper from a roll on the wall and wrap the bouquet neatly, tying red twine across the stems when you were done and ringing the man up. When he’s done paying, you give a large smile to the attractive man. “All done here, I hope you enjoy them…” you trail off, hoping to get his name.

“FDR. It’s nice to meet you…Y/N.” He trails off, looking to your name tag. “Thank you for the flowers, she’s gonna love them,” he smiles, looking down at the arrangement sitting on the counter.

Your face falls at the realization, but you cover it quickly with a smile. Of course a man as handsome as him isn’t single. You pick up the flowers, handing them to him. “Have a nice day,” you wave before getting back to work.

For weeks, almost like clockwork, FDR would come into the shop on late Saturday afternoons and buy a bouquet, leaving with a flirty comment and a parting wink, so you’re not expecting it when the man shows up on a Friday. You’ve just removed yourself from the storage room with a new shipment of flowers, your hands full of bright sunflowers when you see him. He’s making his way to the back of the store, to the cash register stand.

“FDR,” you say with slight confusion in your tone. He turns around at the mention of his name and smiles when he sees you, his bright blue eyes lighting up. “Y/N, hey!”

“You’re a little early,” you say lightly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. You didn’t know that the man you have a slight crush on would be in today, so you’re just wearing jeans and a tank top with your hair up in a messy bun. FDR thinks you look good though, running an appreciative eye down your figure as you’re distracted, sitting down the container of flowers you were previously holding.

“Yeah, I am. I am here to pick out a bouquet but I have to go into work tomorrow, so I thought I’d come in today and have them delivered. As long as that’s okay,” he trails off. You nod, perhaps a little too quickly, and that is confirmation enough for him. “I really wanna do something special this time. Do you think you’re up for helping me put together an arrangement?”

“Of course,” you exclaim, and FDR chuckles at the way your whole face lights up at all the possibilities. “Where would you like to start?”

“I wanted something a little different, maybe something I haven’t gotten. I was looking at those last time I was here.” FDR points to the corner filled with peonies, the large blooms having caught his eye before. The two of you walk over, where FDR cups one of the peach blooms softly in one hand.

“You like these? I just got this batch in yesterday.”

“They’re gorgeous,” FDR says and you get to work. He tells you that he has something big in mind, so you pick out some blooms on the larger side.

With the peach peonies in your work bucket, you make rounds around the shop picking out complimentary blossoms, the container full of orange, white, and bright pink roses respectively, baby’s breath, begonias, and small tufts of yarrow.

You bring FDR to a workstation and he sits down the bucket that he had insisted on carrying as it was filled up. You take a break, grabbing two cold water bottles from the fridge and handing one to him. You sit on a bench for a few minutes, looking around.

“You know I opened this shop almost two years ago,” you say in reminiscence, distracted by the memory of receiving your first customer.

FDR turns his head to look at you from where he’s sitting beside you. “Really? I didn’t know you owned this place,” he hums.

“Yep,” you say, popping the p. “My mom loves flowers. Our house was surrounded by them growing up and I would always look up the names so I could remember them later. I guess that stuck with me, flowers are my passion now. I like making people happy too, seeing a smile on someone’s face as they receive a bouquet, that’s why I make my own deliveries sometimes.”

FDR watches as you talk and look back, the smile on your face coming easily to you as his own lips stretch into a matching grin. The overwhelming urge to kiss you comes to him, and not since the first time he’s met you. As soon as he saw the enthusiasm that you approach your work with, FDR was hooked and knew that he wanted to know more about you. Thinking back on it, Franklin Foster is so happy that his old florist moved away.

His attention is drawn back to you when the sound of your laugh reaches his ears, fingers snapping in front of his nose. It’s a sound that he hasn’t heard nearly enough, and the corners of his mouth turn up instantly.

“You still with me,” you ask through giggles.

“Always,” he chuckles.

“Let’s get to work, you goof.” You sit down your water bottle and turn to the table, looking through the bucket of flowers and deciding on a game plan. “You said you wanted them in a vase, right?” He agrees and you help him pick one out from the shelf along the wall before getting to work.

Two sets of hands work quicker than one, and soon enough you’re finishing up, wrapping a pretty pink ribbon around the vase to be delivered tomorrow. You try to get the bow just right, absolutely /not/ trying to stall. When you’re done, FDR will leave and you’ll be left alone with your work and a skipping heartbeat just like many times before. As you’re adjusting one of the rose blossoms, making sure that it’s turned right, you feel more than see someone coming up behind you.

“Perfect,” a low voice murmurs next to your ear and you smile. Lifting your head from examining the arrangement, you turn your head to meet your gaze with FDR, a soft expression in his eyes.

You smile and giggle softly, looking back at the vase. “Yes, well, I can’t take all the credit. You did help.”

“Right, the flowers,” he clears his throat, “yeah, they look amazing.” A crease forms between your brows as you try to figure out what he means by that, but he’s talking before you can think too much about it. “Can these be here at seven o’clock tomorrow night,” he asks, handing you a slip of paper with an address written on it.

“Yeah, of course,” you say, and your voice comes out less than enthused, so you put on your customer service smile to try and make up for it. FDR looks at you with scrutiny, recognizing the look on your face.

“You don’t have to do that, put on a fake expression. You can be you around me, I hope you know that, Y/N.”

Your eyebrows draw upwards in surprise that he noticed, but you soothe your face back down to normal. You clear your throat and speak, your voice coming out quieter than you expected. “Thank you, FDR. You too,” and you mean it, a small smile lifting your mouth. He leaves not long after that, promising to speak to you soon.

The next day you’re going through some papers in your office when one of your delivery people Alexus sticks her head in the open doorway. “Hey boss, I’m about to head out for my evening run. Is this everything,” she asks, gesturing to the line of flowers waiting to be loaded into the van. You look over them, nodding your head and then stopping when your eyes land on the peony bouquet that you and FDR put together the night before.

“Yeah Lex, I’ll take this one though. Let me help you load these up.” You help Alexus with the flowers and make sure the vase is secure in the car before checking yourself over. You may not even see FDR, but your minimal makeup, casual white and black striped dress, and flats look passable with your hair down in waves. It’s better to be prepared, right? You check the address slip that’s attached to a vase and get ready to head to the house outside of town.

When you pull up to the address, you think that it’s not what you were expecting. The farmhouse and the surrounding land is beautiful, but you were surprised by the number of vehicles parked outside. There must be an event going on inside, you think to yourself.

You pick the vase up and carry it carefully to the front door lest it break, and make sure to pocket the address and billing information so the person on the receiving end doesn’t see it. There’s a card attached that you hadn’t seen before, FDR must have written it while you weren’t paying attention. You ring the doorbell by the front door and hear the chimes sound throughout the large house. While you wait, your curiosity gets the better of you and you peek down at the card that reads

Happy birthday Nana, you’re a Saint for putting up with me for all these years.

You barely have time to process this new information when the door opens in front of you and you bring your lips into a shy smile. You come to face an elderly woman, her white hair tucked back into an elegant updo, a dress and heels adding to the air of sophistication. She looks to you and her red lips pull into a bright grin when she spots the flowers in your hands.

“Oh my, such lovely flowers,” she says excitedly in a British accent. “Are these from my Franklin?”

“Franklin,” you mutter confusedly, tilting your head, and before you can open your mouth again to ask who that is, you hear your name being called and you turn around.

“Y/N! I didn’t know you would be here,” FDR says as he walks closer to you, having just arrived.

“I told you that I make deliveries sometimes,” you say sheepishly, shrugging a shoulder.

You glance uneasily back to the front door that’s still open and FDR smacks himself on the forehead, walking over and embracing the woman, who is still standing there.

“Nana, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is my Nana. This woman raised me, and I can’t thank her enough.”

“It’s so nice to meet you, and I’m guessing these are for you,” you say with a genuine smile this time.

Nana accepts the flowers readily and pulls them up to her face to smell, taking the time to appreciate their beauty.

“Thank you for bringing these,” FDR puts a hand on your back and leans a little closer to you as Nana is otherwise occupied, though she doesn’t miss the exchange.

“Of course,” you reply, suddenly bashful.

“We are having a little celebration out back, would you like to stay for the party? You can keep Franklin company,” Nana speaks up.

FDR groans inwardly at her meddling, but he still smiles when you look to him for reassurance. “That sounds nice.”

The two of you follow Nana inside, your shoulders brushing as she leads you through the impressive house to a fenced-in area of the backyard.

“Look what this sweet girl brought me,” she announces to anyone listening and you hear back a few praises on the arrangement.

“Thank you, Nana, but FDR helped me,” you didn’t want to take all the credit for the flowers.

“Oh please, all I did was point out one flower. You matched the rest and put them together beautifully,” he replies affectionately. You bite your lip at the compliment.

After a few minutes of chatting between the two of you, you are interrupted by a loud voice nearby speaking in a British accent. “Look who finally showed up,” is heard before a shorter man comes over to FDR and wraps him in a warm, albeit rough hug.

“Collins had me come in today, I told you that yesterday.”

“Yes, well, you failed to mention that you would be bringing a date to Nana’s birthday.” The man turns to you, putting out a hand for you to shake and you do. You can’t help but notice that FDR doesn’t correct him about you being his date. “My name is Tuck, I’m his brother,” he says with a thumb pointed towards your companion.

“Y/N, it’s nice to meet you, Tuck. So I’m guessing you could tell me a bunch of embarrassing stories about Franklin,” you say, putting a teasing emphasis on his real name. FDR groans, and is that a blush painting his cheeks? You giggle at this.

“You have no idea, love. There was this one time, in Bangladesh-” Tuck starts but is cut off by FDR interrupting him.

“Let’s not do this right now, Tuck. Another topic please, any other topic?” You smirk at how flustered this confident charmer has become.

Tuck laughs before turning the conversation. “So how did you meet Frank?”

You tilt your head to look up at him with a smile, thinking to the first time you met him. “I’m a florist, I own a flower shop in town. FDR came in one day, clueless about what to buy, so I helped him. He’s come in every Saturday since. I actually brought an arrangement here today.”

“Oh you’re the cute florist he’s always going on about. It was getting annoying, but I can’t say I blame him.”

You hear a strangled sort of noise and look beside you to where it seems to have come from. “You okay,” you question, concerned but still amused.

“I’m fine.”

Tuck leaves after this, going off to sit with his wife and son, leaving you to your own devices, promising to tell you all of Franklin’s terrible and funny stories. You plan to take him up on it.

FDR walks with you over to an empty table that’s been set up, and you sit down, him following. He looks at you, a shy smile on his face. “I’m sorry about my family. They can be a little much, at times.” FDR shakes his head affectionately.

You laugh, looking over at him with a smile. “I like them, they’re fun.”

He shrugs, watching a little boy run by with a bucket over his head. A laugh escapes his lips at the boy’s antics. “Yeah, sometimes.”

After a little while, dinner is served and you sit with FDR, chatting about your lives, learning more about each other. “So Nana raised you?”

“Yeah, yeah she did. What that woman must have went through, I was a bit of a troublemaker growing up.”

“I don’t know, I think you grew up pretty well,” you say with a faux thoughtful smile, teasing. FDR rolls his eyes good-naturedly and you giggle. “No, but really. It’s great of you to get her flowers every week, that’s so sweet. Not many people do that lately. I make my living off of people trying to make up for mistakes, and the occasional wedding. But not you.” You duck your head as you realize that you’ve been talking for too long. You shrug, “I don’t know, I think you’re pretty special.”

FDR reaches a hand out to touch your cheek, his thumb running over your cheekbone, and as you lift your head up, your eyes are met with his brilliant blue ones.

“I think you’re pretty special, too.” You feel your cheeks flush and lean into his touch, looking up at him from under your eyelashes. “I don’t know if I’m reading this wrong, but… can I see you sometime, outside of Wild Blooms?”

You can’t help but giggle, nodding your head happily. “Of course you can.”

“Good,” FDR nods. “How about dinner tomorrow night, I’ll pick you up at your place?” The hopeful look in his eyes makes you melt inside, and suddenly you can’t wait for tomorrow night.

Feeling brave, you lean forward quickly and confidently, placing your lips on his cheek and lingering before pulling away slowly. The goofy grin that takes over FDR’s face makes your expression match, his happiness infectious.

From across the yard, Nana stands with Tuck, watching the two of you with fondness. “I think Y/N is good for him,” Nana observes.

“Yeah, she is,” Tuck nods, and then laughs. “Now we’ve just got to break it to her what he does for a living.”

Permanent Tags: @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @mad-girl-without-a-box @cd1242 @space-helen @izzy10718

Chris Pine Character Tags: @musikat18 @auduna-druitt @garnet-redtailedhero @bookcaseninja

If you’d like to be mentioned in any future fics, you can add your URL to my tag list HERE

#IGiftTheeChrisandKarl #goingknowherewastaken #fdr foster x reader #this means war #fdr this means war #chris pine x reader #chris pine fic #fdr foster fic #this means war fic #i have no idea what else to tag this as so if i missed one hmu

95 notes · View notes