#all tricks..no heart…without a doubt…one to SKIP

[bratbarzal]

On My Side (NH13)

Pairing: Nico "I think the hockey gods were on my side" Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy

WC: 6k

part of the On Your Side universe

*This is a bonus chapter set after the ending of the overall fic, and can be read as a standalone if you haven't read the fic, but if you want to understand their dynamic and Poppy's personality a little more, you should!!!

Description: 18+ MDNI, Nico comes home to Poppy after scoring his first ever career hat-trick for the Devils. Way more fluff than smut but Nico is down bad as always.

A/N: You're all a bunch of enablers and that's all I have to say on the matter!!! Hope this fills the void while I continue to struggle with chapter ten lmao there is mention of Baby Cheeto in here but no spoilers for her name. Nico calls her Bug as a nickname, like _____-Bug, Chäferli (little bug) or just Bug for short, but it isn't her actual name. I can't use Cheeto forever lmao. I was literally trying to think of a title and remembered he said the words "on my side" WHAT IF I TOLD YOU HE'S A MASTERMIND he's an oys!truther if I ever saw one! Painfully obsessed with Poppy if you ask me. Also the way Cheeto would rock the heck out of this it's so cute I had to share

Nico Hischier likes to think he’s a patient man.

Finally scoring his first career hat-trick after 8 years in the NHL, after 476 games played with the Devils, would be the ultimate testament to that.

Doing so in the first ever game with his daughter in attendance - on home turf, his mother and Poppy holding her up in the family suite during warm-ups in her little Devils teddy sleeper that he can only just make out from down on the ice, but has his rampant heart beating out of his chest all the same - has him thinking that maybe, after all those years, after all those games, the stars had been aligning for him the whole time. 

And it was that sort of patience he had tried to tune into since the end of the second period, when he knew Poppy had left early to try skip traffic and get their little girl home safe for bed.

It’s what he tries to channel in the aftermath of the game, swarmed by reporters in the locker room, trying to remain polite and professional, not rushing them through their questions or giving half-assed answers - knowing he owes a lot more than that to the organisation that has allowed him to get this far. Trying to save just a speck of energy to give when he finally gets home, collapsing into the warm embrace of the girls he knows are waiting patiently for him.

It’s what he holds onto when he has to take a detour on his way home, dropping his mom off at her hotel and trying not to visibly squirm in his seat as she regales him with stories of how his daughter had captured the hearts of everyone she encountered, swallowing down the slight jealousy that he hadn’t been there to see it and clinging to the fact that he had his own success elsewhere in the night - success that played second fiddle in his own mother’s eyes to the experience of sharing her granddaughter’s first ever game with her, an experience he had to endure twice as she called his father from his car, deep chuckles ringing through the speakers as he tried to get a word in edge ways beyond her excitement.

It’s what has him shaking with anticipation as he almost skips down the hall to their apartment, mustering up the rest of his energy to walk into their home without the weight of the world on his shoulders, leaving any doubt, any insecurity, any lingering self-deprecation at the door so he can bask in this moment with the two hearts that are shaped entirely to fit him into them.

And it’s what has him shaking off whatever disappointment tries to creep in when he sees his little girl asleep in Poppy’s arms, knowing whatever tiny part of her he will ever get will always be enough - even if her big, glassy eyes aren’t looking up at him, even if he doesn’t come home to one of those heart-stopping beaming smiles she has started to give to him whenever he enters the room - her being here, sleeping safely in the arms of her beautiful mother, and him getting to come home to whatever version of them he can, is more than he could ever ask for.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the hat-trick hero.” Poppy’s soft voice carries to him as he makes his way over, dropping his bag on the floor and keys on the counter, heading straight to where she is now standing and pressing a kiss to her waiting lips. “Hi, handsome.”

“She didn’t wanna say goodnight to her daddy, huh?” He tries not to sound too dejected - he’s supposed to be on a high, after all - but after half an hour of his mother unintentionally bragging about all the attention she had been giving to her Gromi all night, he can’t help the slight sag of his shoulders - especially knowing that she’s going to be spending the morning with his mom tomorrow, too.

“Sorry, baby, we watched a little of you on the TV and then she got hangry,” Nico finds himself hypnotised by her still figure, enamoured with the way she exudes sheer calmness. The smile that creeps up on his lips seems to do so by muscle memory - a dopey kind of smile he’s probably had plastered on his face since she came into the world kicking and screaming 2 months ago, a smile permanently etched into his features from probably even before that. “I promise I tried to keep her up, she literally fell asleep on my boob.” Poppy whispers, watching with warm, glittery eyes as Nico takes in the sight of his two favourite people in front of him - Poppy already changed into one of his shirts, settled for the night, and his baby girl all cosy in her little teddy bear onesie, pacifier bobbing between her plush little lips.

“Look at her hat,” he pouts, running a finger along the folded seam of the way-too-big beanie Poppy has perched on top of her head, the knit fabric falling just short of her closed eyes. “That’s adorable.”

“Your mom put it on her before we left,” Poppy chuckles lightly, “Wanted to keep it on until you got home, we had to celebrate the hatty properly.” Her brows raise as if gesturing to the bill of the cap on her own head, one of his, he’s sure - no doubt stolen from their closet as soon as she got home.

“My little good luck charm,” he leans down to press a kiss to her cheek before he lifts himself back up and bends toward Poppy, “Gonna have to start coming to all the games.”

“I’ll let you break the news to her when she wakes up,” she hums as he presses his lips to hers, “She has a very low tolerance for everybody telling her to smile and getting all up in her space, been grouchy all night.”

“Just like Mami, huh, bug?”

“Oh, you think you’ve got jokes now?” Poppy scoffs as she steps back, ready to take their daughter to bed.  “Score your first hatty and you think you’re funny?”

“Always been funny, babe,” he smirks, flicking at the cap sat on her head before he takes it off, flipping it to place on top of his own and following her down the hall. “I’ll prove it to you when I get her first laugh.”

“She’ll be laughing at you, not with you.”

“Better than nothing.”

Nico sits on the edge of their bed as Poppy reaches into the crib to retrieve the sleeping bag in there before she lays it down beside him. He does the work unzipping and readying it for her to place their daughter inside while she rocks her still-sleeping body, and the two of them work in tandem to get her inside before zipping her back up, with Nico softly pulling the beanie from her head and watching her fluffy hair fan out in its absence. 

He runs a gentle hand over her head to smooth it down as Poppy lifts her, and leans into where she offers her up for a kiss before she puts her in the crib. Nico watches with a soft smile etched into his features, the familiarity of it all spreading warmth throughout his chest, his favourite part of every day being this - sharing a goodnight routine in the comfortable quiet, the two loves of his life safe and happy within arms reach.

None of it feels new or daunting anymore, just easy - and despite the constant warnings of it not always being this way, Nico just wants to feel it to its fullest extent; sheer happiness and serenity. 

Poppy returns to the front of him, and he instinctively spreads his legs to accommodate her, palms laying flat against his chest and his hands falling to her hips. She just looks at him for a good few seconds, eyes shimmering with admiration, lips tugged between teeth and a head tilted as her expression flickers into something more intense. 

Her hands travel down his arms, wordlessly, until she grasps at his wrists and pulls him to stand, leaning up to press a fleeting kiss to the corner of his mouth. “C’mon,” she whispers while her lips are still against his skin, “Wanna celebrate you.”

As if getting to come home to her isn’t celebration enough.

He follows her back through the hall with their hands clasped together, arms stretched between them so he can watch the hem of his shirt ride up against the backs of her soft thighs, and he starts to feel his throat go dry.

He thinks of all those mornings they would spend in the kitchen together in the summer, his shirts a little tighter around her pregnant belly, riding up against her curves and leaving very little to the imagination when she’d wear just his t-shirt and nothing else.

She’s wearing panties now, he can tell, could see the bottom of them peaking out when she’d leaned over to put their daughter in her crib. But he doesn’t mind inching them off, quite likes the slow pace of unwrapping her like a gift - a well-deserved present for all his hard efforts on the ice.

It’s where his fingers find themselves almost immediately when she stops just short of the couch, spinning and practically launching herself into his waiting arms. He can’t help but chuckle as they collide, large arms wrapping around her frame as she melts into him, hands gripping either side of his jaw to pull him down in a clash of teeth and tongues. He palms at her ass as she presses her hips forward, fingers slipping under the hem of her panties and wriggling under them until his knuckles are covered by the fabric, squeezing at the flesh until she groans into his open mouth. 

He feels deft fingers working between them to rid him of his own clothes, clumsily popping open the buttons of his jacket before working their way up his chest, slipping into the arms and helping him shrug it off. The weight of it drops to the floor with a heavy thud, and when her hands return to his chest for the next item of clothing to be removed, she pushes him back with an exaggerated huff.

“Baby, how many layers do you need?”

“You in some kind of rush, or something?” He chuckles, chasing her lips with a crane of his neck, getting a quick kiss in before she pushes him back again with palms laid flat on his broad chest.

“Your daughter has some sort of radar for when we’re within 2 inches of each other,” she says as her hands slide down, the feel of them through the extra layers he has on still present as she travels past the hard ridges of his abdomen. She grasps tight at the bottom of his hoody, and he lends a hand to tugging it up and over his head, throwing that to the floor, too. “We gotta get a move on before she wakes up,”

“My daughter?” He scoffs, removing his undershirt while she’s distracted, relishing the feeling of a heavy gaze on his chest once it’s fully revealed to her hungry eyes. “She’s really given you such a hard time that you’re disowning her?”

“She isn’t letting me have a hard time at all, that’s the problem.” Her hands reach back out seemingly of their own volition, fingers fanning out across his skin as her stare glides down, the weight of it sliding down his skin to the point he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention. 

“That was weak for you.” He teases.

“I’m out of practice,” she pouts, closing the distance once more and pressing her lips to the slightly stubbled skin of his jaw, nipping at the flesh as her ministrations travel across his features, his jaw, his neck, the spot just below his ear, where she mutters, “Wanna show you how proud I am of you,”

“Oh yeah?” He asks as she works at the button of his pants, pushing until they pool at his feet and he can kick them off.

“Mmhm,” she moves her kisses back to his waiting lips, “Been waiting to get my hands on you all night.”

“Been waiting to get my hands on you all day,” he mutters back, bending to lift her with hands gripping her ass, “Been thinking about you teasing me in the kitchen this morning,” he starts heading for the couch, mind spinning as she continues kissing him - thinking of all the plans she had been making for the two of them while his mom takes Little Bug out in the morning, finally giving them some much needed, uninterrupted time to themselves. Plans of wasting the morning away between the sheets, sharing showers, having no responsibilities other than paying attention to one another. “Thinking about having you all to myself tomorrow."

“You gonna let me give you a preview?” 

He chuckles as he falls back onto the couch, all grace thrown out the window as they sink into the cushions, her still holding onto him and now straddling his lap, lips stretched into a blissful smile as he looks up at her.

She presses them straight to his, and he can’t bring himself to mind the way their teeth clash at her eagerness, hips grinding down onto his as she settles onto her knees.

He could spend forever kissing her like this, sensual and sloppy, the slight scratch of her nails against the sides of his neck and his grip on her thighs guiding her movements straight onto the aching growth between his legs.

He bucks up to meet her, and their lips part with a wet smack as she groans. 

"Bet you can’t wait for me to shave, eh?” he smiles as he swipes a thumb across the space between her nose and lip, the skin red raw from the scratch of his moustache.

“You know damn well I’d ban you from ever touching a razor again if I could.” She says, breathlessly, slowly thrusting down onto him.

“Tell that to your little red muzzy, you’re giving Luke a run for his money,”

“Hey,” she swats at his chest in feigned outrage, “The kid tried his best!” 

“No more talk about Hughes when you’re sat on my lap,”

“You brought him up!”

“Thought I was getting a preview,” he groans as he shuffles, reaching between them to slip a hand between her legs, tucking his fingers beneath her panties and swiping against her heat. “Jesus, Poppy.”

“Told you I’ve been thinking about you all night,” she pecks at his lips again, raising her hips a little to give him further access to slide his fingers through the almost excessive wetness that’s near enough soaked through her panties. 

He prods at her entrance, two fingers slipping straight in until she’s gasping against his cheek in sheer bliss. His digits move with ease, working his way up to his knuckles as he drinks up her pleasured moans, his chin tilting until their open mouths just press together without kissing, panting against one another as he works her up. 

He pushes the fabric of his shirt up her thighs with his other hand, exposing his handiwork to hungry eyes so he can see the way she glistens between her legs - can see the way his fingers slide in an out of her.

She takes his shirt off, throwing it beside them on the couch so she can see too, looking down for only a moment before she’s throwing her head back.

He’s so hard just watching her that it’s almost painful - straining against the seams of his briefs until they’re tenting beneath her. And she must notice, nimble fingers working him out until he’s thick and hot and heavy in her palm, gripping around him in with her thumb swiping at his tip, hips shuffling until his fingers slip out of her heat and she can move on her knees to hover above his waiting cock. 

He takes a hold of himself while her hands raise to steady herself on his shoulders, and he waits with bated breath as she lowers herself, sinking past her entrance until he’s sheathed entirely, tight, wet walls wrapped around him in a long-awaited embrace.

Their moans fall out in sync, both of them stilling, the only movements between them being the soft rise and fall of panting chests. 

It’s a minute before she starts to rock her hips, leaning back down to distract herself from whatever unease needs to fade away with the press of her lips to his - tongue swiping at his, sucking and nipping at the muscle as she works herself to the point where she can lift herself up a little.

“Fuck me,” he whines out in an elongated groan as she sinks down on him again, tight and slick and warm, and he feels tension in every cell in his body, strung taut to the point where he feels like he could snap entirely in any given moment.

“I’m working on it,” she pouts, “Think I overestimated my talents here,”

“Think you’re very talented,” he hums, pressing a kiss to her jaw as he lays large hands on the dip of her waist, fingers tickling into the arch of her back so her movements are a little smoother, a little more fluid. “So good to me, yeah? Just need a hand.”

He guides her hips into a steady rhythm - up, down, forward, back - until she’s rocking onto him in a mind numbing pace. 

God, he thinks, this is heaven.

It’s been so long since he’s had her like this. Probably all the way back in Switzerland in the summer, and he thinks a lot about this situation mirrors that - trying to stay quiet, trying to feel as much of each other as they possibly can without drawing attention from sleeping parties one room over. 

He remembers thinking, all those months ago, that it wouldn’t be possible to love Poppy any more than he did, then - that he couldn’t possibly feel more for her than he did when he shared that part of his world, and she had embraced it with open arms. She had blended straight into his family, had adapted herself to his routine, had brought new life and colour to what he had always considered vibrant, anyway, but she had changed the meaning of it all.

But she had done the same to life in Jersey. 

Long gone were any feelings of homesickness he used to get - especially around this time of the year. Fully immersed now into his season, summer seeming too far from his reach that he started to forget what home felt like. But not anymore.

Home is Poppy. Home is their baby girl sleeping soundly in the next room. It’s playing one of the greatest games of his career so far, meeting milestones he had been reaching for for so long, standing in the centre of the arena he has built his career in, hearing the rapturous cheers of fans chanting his name, and driving back knowing the love garnered there could never possibly compare to the love waiting for him in his apartment.

He brings her face down with a palm splayed gently across her jaw, fingers reaching back to tickle at the nape of her neck and thumb swiping tenderly at her soft cheekbone, until their mouths collide. He shifts his hips to meet her ministrations, finding a rhythm that has her gasping into his mouth, enough that his tongue can slip past the seam of her lips and press against hers - hot and fervid and eager.

He wonders as the pressure builds if this passion will ever wither. If this need to profess his love for her will ever wain away, if he’ll ever be casual about the way in which she has become the entire centre of his universe.

He hopes not. 

He hopes when he’s 80, he looks over at her and his heart still hammers in his chest. He hopes his mouth struggles to make sense of all the ways in which his brain tries to convey what she means to him - hopes he still stutters around his sentences and feels weak to the very base of his spine at the mere thought of her. 

In fact, he doesn’t hope at all.

He knows he will.

“You feel so good,” Poppy mutters into his mouth, panting against his swollen lips, “I’ve missed this so much.”

“Yeah?” He thrusts up, “You missed being full of me?”

He’s missed this far out look in her eyes, glassed over and almost gone as she nods in response - they haven’t really been able to get to this stage with their quick fumbles and rushed hookups in the last 2 weeks since she got the all clear from her doctor for them to start being intimate again. Sure, they had developed other methods over those first 6 weeks, making good use of hands and mouths in whatever limited time they could find together, but nothing compares to this.

To being attached at every point like they are one.

“You gonna come for me?”

He still remembers her tells, fluttering lashes, trembling thighs, stuttered breaths all combined with the spine tingling way in which she tightens around him, and he manages to time it so they come together, one final burst of energy used to lift his hips just as she sinks down, body slumping into tremors that wrack through the both of them.

He holds her in place for a second, large hands pushing his shirt up her back as he starts to rub circles into her flesh, soothing her back into a softened consciousness - hazy and frazzled but still in tune with every movement he makes. 

Her nose presses into the expanse of his neck, lips pecking at all the sensitive spots she can seek out as they both try to catch their breaths - and he realises she was probably right before, they haven’t had time like this for a while now. 

Still, he’ll take what he can get.

She lifts her hips just enough for him to slip out, and reaches to the small table at the side of the couch where she has miraculously stashed a pack of baby wipes. She takes two out, using one to clean the both of them before she bundles it into the clean one and discards of it back onto the table to be disposed when she eventually gets the feeling back in her legs.

And it’s as soon as Poppy’s legs give way and she collapses into him that they both hear it - a soft wail carrying through the monitor behind the couch. Cries filling the space around them and bursting their bubble with an almighty pop!

“Told you,” Poppy mumbles into his neck, skin sticky with a soft sheen of sweat. “Won’t even let me get a hatty of my own,”

Nico scoffs, snorting out a loud chuckle that shakes where she rests on his chest, and despite her feigned irritation, she feels her cheeks puff out into a soft, unbreakable grin. “Like you’d have lasted 3 rounds.”

“What happened to me being very talented?” She pouts, mustering whatever strength she has left to push herself up, swinging a leg back over and moving to stand, only for him to grasp back at her, pulling her until her back falls into the plush of the couch.

“Talented, Poppy, not super human,” he chuckles, standing from the cushions and tucking himself back into his briefs. “I’ve got her.”

“It’s probably wind, I changed and fed her before she went down.”

He presses one last kiss to Poppy’s head before heavy feet carry him down the hall toward their bedroom, where their daughter’s crib is temporarily positioned until she starts to sleep a little further through the night. He doesn’t bother flicking the light on as he enters, able to follow his muscle memory straight over to where she is without tripping over his own feet, and he lifts her as soon as he can, cooing at her as she cries into his chest.

“I’ve got you, Chäferli,” he mutters as he rocks her gently, large hand completely encompassing where he can feel her back through her sleeping bag. “Daddy’s here,”

He reaches over to shut off the monitor before he ambles over to his and Poppy’s bed, sitting with his daughter still clutched to his chest, little hiccups coming out as his hand tries to work up her wind. 

“Got yourself all worked up, huh?” He asks, so deep into his routine of talking to her about anything and everything that he no longer second guesses it. “My little bug, you’re okay.”

It takes a good few minutes to calm her down, to the point that Nico thinks she might even be hungry and he’ll have to call Poppy in, wiggling a finger between her lips to see if she latches on, but he continues to pat and rub at her back until she burps, and her cries turn into little coos, that turn into soft pants with wide, sparkling eyes staring up at him in wonder. 

He looks down at her in the same way, dark eyes flitting across her every feature. Across the soft but thick head of hair, the crazy long eyelashes, the puffy lips and the little button nose. 

She looks so much like Poppy that he feels his chest ache every time he looks at her - but it’s a good kind of ache, a longing and content kind of ache, that only aches to remind him of everything he stands to lose if he doesn’t work hard enough to keep it.

“Gromi told me you were charming everybody at daddy’s work,” he tells her with a soft smile, the pad of his finger pressing at the tip of her nose. “Says she’s gonna have to show you off around the city on her own tomorrow.”

Tiny fingers reach up to clasp around his, holding on and clutching with a grip he’s sure wasn’t so firm that morning when he had said his goodbyes. 

“Careful, bug,” he tells her, “You hold Papi’s hand too long and he won’t let you go.”

Wide eyes gleam back at him, and he watches in awe as they start to crinkle in the corners. 

He becomes all too aware of the hammering of his heart, and lays her beside him on the bed in fears that the echoing thud of it beating against his chest might disturb her. He curls up beside her, making sure she’s flat as he gets himself comfortable, and just lays there for a good few minutes, watching her as she watches him.

There isn’t a feeling in the world that compares to this, he thinks. He could score a hundred hat-tricks, have a million people chanting his name, and it won’t come close to how adored he feels in this moment, how proud he feels to have played any part in making a little human so perfect and beautiful.

He leans forward, kissing softly at her puffy cheek, careful not to press too hard that she feels the scratch of his moustache, and he relishes the little squeal of what he hopes is delight she gives in return. 

Poppy gives it 20 minutes before she decides to venture through to their bedroom, having cleaned up and busied herself sterilising bottles so they’re ready for Katja to come pick up in the morning. It’s been a rare occurrence lately that Nico has had his one-on-one time with their daughter, him being so busy with training and their trip to Florida - and he wouldn’t say it, wouldn’t fess up to the ways in which it gets him down, but she knows he feels like he’s missing a lot. 

She changes so much day to day - discovers so much about the world around her - and as much as Poppy tries to save things for him to see on his own, tries to find the balance between sharing the little moments she gets with him and letting him experience them for himself, she knows there’s nothing she can do to keep that nagging voice at bay.

He’s always been that way, unable to completely silence the thoughts that tell him no matter what he does, it isn’t enough. 

He’d even done it tonight - his first career hat-trick, him being the first Swiss-born player to score a natural hat-trick, a stadium filled with fans chanting his name, dominating a team the Devils hadn’t beat at home in close to 10 years - and it hadn’t been his best performance. 

She would gladly spend the rest of her life convincing him he’s good enough, she thinks. 

Her and their little Bug being the ones who get to welcome him home after a night like tonight? She doesn’t know what she did in a past life to get the Gods on her side like this, but she’d do it again a thousand times over.

As her feet pad softly down the hall toward their room, she listens out for the soft voice she usually has the pleasure of eavesdropping on when she thinks he doesn’t know she’s hovering on the other side of the door. A soft voice that tells their little girl exaggerated stories from his day about her uncles, about his games, about whatever he got up to while he was away and what he brought back for her from his travels. But this time, it’s quiet - the peaceful kind of quiet that wraps around her like a blanket, tranquil and warming as she pushes the door open and steps into the room.

Nico is curled up on his side of the bed, on top of the covers, and his arm is draped gently over their daughter’s sleeping bag, their faces inches apart as soft snores fall from their parted lips. She inches closer as quiet as she can manage, leaning over them and taking in their similar profiles - the gentle slope of their mirrored noses, dark lashes framing closed eyes that are turning darker to match her daddy’s day by day.

If anyone had told the Poppy of last November that this is where she would be now - that this is where she’d be with Nico - she never in a million years would have believed it. 

He has transformed her life in such little time that she can barely remember the before. Can barely remember a night she fell asleep in any other bed, by any other side, or woke up to anyone else. Can barely remember feeling anything close to this kind of happiness, this kind of content.

It’s like he’s introduced her to a whole new level of feelings. Ones she struggles to describe, like there’s no word in the English language that could possibly convey what he means to her.

Maybe his language has a word for it. Something that she’s never heard before, but just sounds right. Like she knew it somewhere much deeper than her brain allowed her access. She’ll have to ask him, tomorrow - when they finally have a morning to themselves and she can work up the energy to crawl out from under the sheets with him.

A part of her wishes she could take a snapshot of this moment - could send it back in time to the Poppy who never thought this kind of life would ever find her. The Poppy who was drifting, coasting, floating, afraid of landing on her own two feet and having to drag them for the rest of time through unfamiliar territories. The Poppy who pushed down her ever expanding adoration for the man currently cuddled up to their entire life in the bed they share, who convinced herself he could never possibly feel the same way, and wasted years of her life when she could have had this.

But another part of her thinks, what’s the point?

She has him, now. 

She’ll have him forever.

She allows herself to watch for a minute as they take deep breaths in sync, all the post-game tension in Nico’s body long melted away, before she quietly shuffles over to the bathroom to get herself ready for bed. 

She manages to make her way back over in the dark without stumbling, by some miracle, and reaches over to pick her baby girl up without interrupting her sleep, standing beside her crib and rocking her a little just to make sure she’s still fully drifted off - relishing the feeling of soft puffs of air falling into her neck as she cradles her.

Nico must wake at the loss of contact, instincts kicking in immediately when he can no longer feel the little body that had been resting under his protective arm, and when Poppy looks back over, she can see the reflective glint in his eyes as he watches her - soft and adoring and tooth-achingly sweet. 

Instead of putting her down, she bounces gently on her feet back over to Nico’s side of the bed, sitting beside him as he shuffles up, and the two of them just watch their daughter as she sleeps. 

For all the times they have been warned that this bliss is temporary, that it’s just a phase, Poppy can’t see it ending for as long as Nico looks at her like this. Like he has the entire world sat in front of him. 

“She was smiling at me before,” he whispers as he repositions himself, legs spread so that Poppy can sit between them. “Was trying to get her to calm down, and she was just looking straight at me with those big sparkly eyes and she smiled right at me.”

“She was doing it a little when we got home, earlier.” Poppy whispers back, hoping he doesn’t mind her raining on his parade a little to tell this story, “We just caught your interview on TV after the game, and there was this close up of you, and she smiled so big, Nico. She never smiles like that for anybody.”

“That’s ‘cause you snitch on her and tell everyone it’s gas.”

“I don’t want anyone else thinking they’re special.”

“But I am?” He asks, reaching to swipe the back of his finger softly against her cheek, the soft moonlight sifting into the room reflecting off of the ring on his finger, the quick glimmer enough to catch Poppy’s eye, to distract her so much that she can only hum in response, lips curving into a tender smile. 

“Yeah,” she breathes, the tranquility of the room a stark contrast to the way her heart erupts into thunderous applause for him - akin to that of the stadium full of fans earlier that night. Thousands of voices chanting his name, singing his praises, cheering him on for all the glory he brought to their night. He brings that to Poppy, tenfold, every day. “You’re really special.”

He leans over their sleeping daughter to press a loving kiss to Poppy’s lips, careful not to disturb the little angel between them, and Poppy kisses him straight back, fervent but fleeting.

“I’m so proud of you, baby.” she mutters into his mouth, careful not to invest too much of herself into another moment they’ll swiftly get interrupted from. 

“You gonna show me in the morning?” He mumbles back, their lips still touching, noses pressed together, his hand still cradling her face. She nods, and he feels her cheeks round into his palm. “Gonna give me that hatty you promised?”

“Gonna give you whatever you want.”

“Another baby, Frau?”

She scoffs, swallowing down the fizzing feeling at the back of her throat the nickname. 

“Ask me again after your next hat-trick.” 

[grassoftunnel]

My The Honjin Murders review

I was enjoying it…until…I wasn’t 💀

[kissitbttr]

nobody understands how you did it.

how you managed to swept him off his feet, breaking the walls he had built pieces by pieces, how the fuck did you get him to be comfortable with you? to be open with you? and only with you.

‘never seen him this happy or loose in a long time, lass. what’s your trick, eh?’ the captain pulls a joke, making the rest of the team laugh. ‘i think I speak for everyone when i say, he never brings a girl out. let alone introducing her to us.’

that one is true. years of being friends with ghost, the captain nor his closest friend ‘soap’ has ever seen him out on a date. they encouraged him though, since there have been so many women tried their ways to get close with the big guy, yet none of them succeed.

the masked men would often just shrug them off and give one hard cold answer. they would back away immediately

“guess i just have my ways” is what you always say. even soap couldn’t register how it happened. he couldn’t figure it out himself, he knows the lad way longer than you do.

they don’t believe you. because there is no way in hell that all you did was to bat your lashes, show him your adorable giggle and he was in. there’s gotta be more to it.

so what is it about you that draws him close? what is it about you that makes ghost’s eyes light up each time you step into the room? what is it about you that makes ghost’s heart skip a beat every time he talks to you?

certainly not because how you’re so patient in getting to know with him, right? not because how you trace his scars ever so lightly and call them pretty every single time he’s doubtful about himself. not because how you console him with ‘I’ve got you, baby’ each night a nightmare comes back to haunt him while rubbing his back soothingly. not because how you shower him with soft, gentle kisses to remind him that your love for him is bigger than anyone could have offered. not because how you understand why he can’t say the three letter words to you, just yet. still, you stick around.

definitely not, right? there’s no way. he’s simon ghost riley. no one or nothing could ever be good enough to make this man come out of his shell. it’s impossible, right? you’ll need a miracle for that.

“love?” you hear a voice calls, along with the sound of keys being tossed into a ceramic bowl. heavy boots thumping against the marble floor,

you step out of the kitchen. long hair tied up into a messy updo, clear frame glasses perched on the bridge of your nose. dressed in one of his favorite sleeping gown as your eyes locked with his brown ones. the balaclava still attached to mask his handsome face.

scarred lips stretch into a smile the moment his beautiful fiancé emerges from the kitchen.

he drops his bag onto the floor, pulling the mask off of him slowly. revealing his disheveled blond hair as he takes slow steps towards you.

“hi, baby” your voice brings him home. no soul could ever take away from him. he longs for that angelic tone each time he gets deployed. three or six months without listening to you speak to him is just insanity.

he’d rather lose his hearing entirely than not having to hear you at all.

he’s quick to embrace you in his arms. your face hiding in the crook of his neck, inhaling that signature scent of his that you had missed, dearly.

“what are you making?” he mumbles into the crown of your hair, giving it a peck before pulling away slightly to take a good look at you. “it smells good”

“your favorite” you kiss his chin, causing his cheeks to redden at the affection. “i even bought those lumpias down the 112th street. i know how much you love them. pretzels bites from the deli for snacks aaand, black pepper beef with rice for your dinner. sounds good?”

simon leans against the doorway as he watches you plate everything. rambling about everything. his smile widens even more at your domestic antics. the way you talk with your hands as you mention another annoying co-worker that keeps bugging you and the way you roll your eyes when a splash of gravy spill from the plate.

truly is a sight.

“why are you looking at me like that?” your lips raise into a curious smile, finger moving a dark lock that sticks into your forehead,

he gives you a small shrug. gaze not leaving you neither does his smile.

“you’re just so beautiful”

something so simple yet it makes your stomach fills with butterflies.

you chew on your lower lip to prevent you from smiling too much, but a hint of blush is dusting your cheeks betrays you.

“come, papi… don’t want the food to get cold now, do we?” you change the subject while you nod your head towards the empty seat across. “eat with me”

the two of you sit there while making a small talk. stealing glances every second. feeding each other’s food. soft laughs fall upon both of your mouths when one make a terrible joke.

something you’d see when two people are in love. c

so yes, the answer to that question. it is possible. because you made it possible. you made it possible for him to love again. even if he had to start all over. you made it possible for him to be vulnerable. you gave him a purpose the moment he thought things were looking bad for him.

he found a solace within your existence.

only you made it possible to bring the simon in him.

vbecause you. are his home

[stellocchia]

I love the headcanon of Killer having ADHD, but I never see it explored much despite it being so popular. So here's a list of how ADHD may affect him based on my own experience:

- He remembers he's said something, but doesn't remember to who and just assumes it was everyone who needed to know. It was not.

Imagine the amount of times he's noticed a detail and told the Chara in his mind to not forget only to then forget they're the only one he spoke to about it. Sure, this is gonna be a problem while living under Chara or Nightmare if they find out (I say 'if' because Killer may play the part of the fool with them to lower their guard and him not noticing shit would fit right in), but it's also gonna be troublesome when he's already living with Color.

Imagine he scheduled his next therapy appointment and the only person he told that to is the voice in his head, like, that's bound to end up in a few skipped sessions.

- Remembers only one task at a time unless he writes them down.

I don't doubt that Chara and Nightmare both tried to beat some memory into him, but, surprise surprise, abuse doesn't cure ADHD. For some reason, they're both shocked to find this out.

Killer may develop the strategy of just repeating the list of tasks in his head with the exact cadence and rhythm they were told to him in over and over again as he's doing them to keep them in mind if he doesn't have access to a way to write the orders down. It works pretty well as long as he never stops doing it. As soon as he stops, anything but the task he was currently focusing on disappears.

- Inability to focus on only one thing at a time as it's too understimulating.

I know this one feels like a contradiction to the last one, but imagine it more as 'can't focus on reading unless you're also listening to something or fidgeting with your hands, or walking in circles'. More than one sense has to be stimulated at all times unless you wanna dissociate.

And, to be fair, Killer probably spent most of his time under Chara and Nightmare dissociating anyway, so it's possible that he discovered this neat little trick only after leaving with Color, most likely after starting therapy. Because, while Color of course tries his best to help, he also doesn't have all the knowledge and experience necessary to always know how.

- Irregular sleeping patterns.

This guy probably barely sleeps most of the time under Chara and Nightmare, both because they only allow him to as a reward if he's been good, and because it's such a vulnerable position to be in that it isn't worth it.

But, even once he's settled in with Color, my guy is still gonna swing between sleeping 3 hours and 12 hours straight depending on the day. He may lay down for a nap in the afternoon only for him to wake up the next day. Especially if he's kinda bored. Buddy's sleeping schedule is gonna give Color a heart attack.

- Frequent bouts of depression.

Depression and ADHD are linked together heavily, if he has ADHD it's highly likely that he suffers from depression too.

I mentioned it before, but I think his coping mechanism for that is locking himself in Stage 2, although he's not doing so consciously. Stage 2 is just the most likely one to be able to handle the increased anxiety/paranoia and apathy that come with it. He's also the least likely to change his behavior, so outsiders may miss the fact that they're in a vulnerable position. This, however, is a double edged sword because that guy is shit at taking care of the body and himself and may just go without eating and sleeping until he collapses, all while dissociating the whole time.

- All-consuming bouts of hyperfixation that leave him feeling empty once they fade.

The hyperfixation could be related to specfic AUs, characters within them (he doesn't consider anyone real anyway) or even tasks, weapons, animals, specific people.

For as long as the hyperfixation lasts, he struggles thinking of anything else and/or being happy/interested/focused while thinking about anything else. Of course, every time he thinks that maybe this is the interest that's gonna stick only for it to eventually fade and leave him feeling empty, maybe even kick-starting another bout of depression. There are ways to cope with that (pushing yourself to explore interests outside of you hyperfixation and establishing a healthy routine outside of it helps), however I think he'd only start exploring those once he's with Color and in therapy because mental health under Nightmare and Chara isn't really a thing. He's too busy trying to remain functional with them for that shit.

-

Of course, there's more to it, but those are the things I personally love to give Killer the most. That and the fact that he's easy to distract with something colorful and that is one of the reasons why he likes Color so much (same). Though that one's just funny tbh.

[astermath]

she was a skater girl ♬☆

pairing: ethan landry x skater!fem!reader

summary: ethan always watches you skate past him across campus. he finally asks you to try and teach him some tricks, and the two of you share a heartfelt moment together as you watch him struggle.

word count: 1.7K

warnings: mentions of scars and an injury

you can read my other ethan fic “close call” here!!

notes: call me a poser all u want but I’ve never been on a skateboard before. I have however, dated a skater, which I think makes me knowledgeable enough to write this. just some fluff-ish writing, I’m writing a bit of a smutty fic for ethan too so stay tuned for that ʕ •`ᴥ•´ʔ comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

comment if you’d like to be added to the tag list for further ethan landry related content! 

Ethan had his hands in his pockets as he made his way across campus, the sunlight making him squint a little to see properly. It was a beautiful day, the weather had been treating the residents of New York surprisingly well these past few days. He made use of that by taking the long way around to class.

Yeah, that was the reason.

Totally not because he was hoping to catch a glimpse of the cool girl he’d sometimes see skating across campus. Not at all.

He still remembers the first time he saw you. It was one of the first econ classes of the year, and his ears picked up the faint sound of wheels rolling over concrete behind him. He didn’t think much of it at first, but a voice calling out “watch your left!” properly caught his attention. He turned his head slightly, and was soon passed by you just nearly missing him as you zoomed by at a speed most would call dangerous. 

The scent of your perfume caught his nose, and it genuinely had not left his mind ever since. He’d stared at you as you rode up to the building’s entrance and hopped off the board, catching it with ease. He thought about it so often, the way you seemed to so effortlessly glide along the concrete, your stylish clothes, your voice. Love at first sight might have been pushing it, but a crush? Without a doubt.

He’d watch you during the boring parts of lectures, noticing you drumming your fingers against your desk. Upon further inspection, also noticing you always had at least one airpod in. It made him wonder what kind of music someone like you would be into, probably something cool and indie he’d never heard of.

In reality, the soundtrack of the Shrek movie game blasted through your left ear. Maybe a tad less sophisticated than he was expecting, but a banger nonetheless.

His heart nearly skipped a beat when his eyes caught the familiar sight of you skating past the fountain. Instead of going further, you circled around it once, before doing a trick off the side of it. Ethan’s eyes widened and he refrained from applauding to make himself known, but man did he think that was cool. In reality, it wasn’t that hard, at least not to you. You’d been doing this for years, and you had the scars to prove it. 

You both went to class like usual, him sneaking fleeting glances at you. You looked so pretty, lost in thought. Though he doubted those thoughts were about class, you tended to busy yourself with basically anything besides paying attention. He swore he’d seen you watch the Bee Movie during a lecture before...

You quickly rose to your legs after the lecture was announced to be over, grabbing your board by the edge and getting ready to head out, swinging your backpack over your shoulder. You went on your merry way to your favorite spot near the campus, a small abandoned skatepark, head nodding along with the beat of your music. You smoothly manoeuvred across campus and through a couple of streets, hopping off when you finally reached it. No one else was there, and honestly, you preferred it that way. There was no one in the way when you practiced, it was your secret little safe haven. 

“H-Hey!” A semi-familiar voice called out behind you, seemingly slightly out of breath.

Great, up until now, it was your secret little safe haven.

You turned around, a confused expression plastered across your face when you made eye contact with Ethan. You remembered him, the boy from econ class who would sometimes stare at you during lectures. You were certain he didn’t know you knew, but honestly, it’s not like you minded. 

“...Yeah?” You pulled off your headphones, letting them hang around your neck.

“I’m uh, I’m... I’m Ethan.” He struggled getting his words out, still catching his breath. Okay, so maybe he ran after you to see where you went, because he really wanted to ask you something. And maybe you didn’t hear him over your music before. So maybe...

“Did you follow me?” You questioned, stepping closer and taking your board under your arm.

Maybe he followed you. Ethan’s face grew flushed at the question, though in reality, that’s kind of exactly what he did. “N-No!” He put up his hands, trying really hard not to make himself sound like a creep. “Well... Yeah, but... I tried to ask you something, and you didn’t hear me, and I never get a chance to talk to you, so...”

“So you followed me.” You became slightly amused at him struggling to explain himself, suppressing a chuckle to spare him from further embarrassment.

“No I swear I--” He caught the slight smirk on your face, realizing you weren’t mad. “I’m sorry, I just...” He gestured to your skateboard. “I always see you skating by, and I think it’s so cool, and I would kill to know how to do that.” He gathered his thoughts and put his hands together. “Would you be so kind as to forgive me for following you, and please teach me some tricks?”

You looked him up and down, bringing up a hand to rest at the back of your neck, scratching slightly at the skin there. “Ah, fuck it.” You chuckled slightly, and his heart warmed at the sound. Your voice was so pretty, there was something so special about it. You held out a hand, and Ethan reached out to shake it as you introduced yourself. He already knew your name, but in fear of sounding like even more of a creep, he kept that to himself. 

“Come on,” You gestured for him to come closer, setting down the board and hopping on it. You showed him the basics of a good stance, and his eyes watched your beat up sneakers balance on the wood as you explained yourself. “Got it?”

His head snapped up and he looked into your eyes. “Y-Yeah! Totally!”

You laughed softly, getting off the board. “You didn’t hear shit of what I said, did you?” You took a step back. “Get on, show me how you think you should do it, and we’ll adjust from there.”

“Okay, yeah... I can do that.” He carefully put a single foot onto the deck, and it instantly moved to the side, almost making him fall to the ground.

You reached out and he grabbed onto your arms, yelping when he nearly lost his balance. He put a second foot on, and his hands slid down to meet yours, gripping tightly out of fear for nearly eating concrete again. 

“You got it, see? You’re standing!” You tried to be cool about holding his hands, but inside your mind, thoughts of all kinds were running rampant. Ethan was cute, really cute, and here he was, putting his faith in your hands. Literally.

“Yeah... Yeah! I am!” He got a bit too confident and shifted his weight, to which the board responded by moving again. You both got startled and you readjusted your grip on him, before you caught each other’s eyes again. Laughter broke from the both of you, unabashed giggles erupting as you both realized just how silly this was. This whole situation was pretty humorous, but watching him stand on the board like Bambi on ice was something else.

“Okay, okay...” You swallowed, catching your breath after your laughing fit. “I promise I’m not laughing at you, this is just... You’re kinda shit at this.” You giggled again.

He would have been offended if he didn’t know it was true. “I know, shit, I’m surprised I’m still standing.”

“You and me both. Alright, let’s move.” You gently started walking to the side, hands not letting go. The wheels rolled along the hard concrete as he followed along your side, eyes fixated more on you than the board. “There we go!”

He chuckled out of pure surprise that he was still on the deck, and partly to cover up the awkwardness he felt about you having to explain things so simply for him. He looked down at the board, imagining if he was doing it all on his own. 

He was so good at imagining it, that he hadn’t even noticed you’d already let go of his hands, and he was now balancing himself as the board moved. It was only when it halted a bit after that he realized he was doing it by himself. He giggled adorably, arms raising up in a victory pose. You gave him a thumbs up in response, standing a few meters away from him now.

His confidence got the best of him as he gently put his foot down to push himself to your direction, forgetting everything he’d just learned and losing his balance right in front of you. He took you down with him as you both tumbled to the ground, limbs entangling when he landed on top of you.

“S-Shit! Ah, I’m so sorry! Oh my god, are you okay--” He spoke in a panicked tone, before he looked up at your face. You were grinning, clearly suppressing laughter. He let out a nervous chuckle, and that resulted in you bursting out in giggles once more. The two of you shared a good minute of pure, wholesome laughter, not even realizing you were so close together. Nothing else really mattered in that moment, all you could do was laugh.

“Aw, man...” You wiped away a tear from laughing so hard. “Kinda glad you followed me now, Landry. Haven’t had this much fun in ages.” Your heart fluttered at your own words. You couldn’t believe you were being so sappy, but you were genuinely having a blast, even if it involved falling horribly.  You looked down at your knee and noticed a scrape, hissing slightly through your teeth when you reached your hand out to touch it. “Shit, uh... Do you have a band-aid?”

He looked at the wound and then back at your face. “I, uh... I have some back at my dorm.”

You smiled, a bit of a mischievous glint in your eyes. 

“Alright, lead the way.”

tag list <3 let me know if you’d like to be added!

@kometqh​

[lau219]

Red Carpet

Part 1

……….……………………………………………………………………

​As much as she didn’t want to admit it, he looked damn good as he stood before the hundreds of flashing bulbs. His outfit was perfect – stylish yet casual, and his confident and laid-back stance made him all the more alluring. His thick, dark hair was tousled in the most appealing way, and she imagined (to her dismay) her own fingers tangling in those locks as she watched him absentmindedly run a hand through it as he spoke to a reporter.

He had his trademark expression – pleasant, but almost hinting as if he felt he was too good to be there, which he undoubtedly did. Regardless, he was painfully gorgeous, and Lauren felt a heat run to her core as she saw him give a cheeky smile and roll his eyes at the reporter he’d struck up a banter with. He was so damn cocky. And it only fueled him on when he briefly averted his eyes to her and he caught her watching him, their gazes meeting briefly, his beautiful icy blue eyes boring into her. Lauren’s heart skipped a beat as his signature smirk unfurled across his face before he turned back to the reporter.

​“Shit,” Lauren muttered to herself under her breath. Why did she have to get caught ogling him? He would no doubt bring it up later, taunting her about it. Why did he always single her out? Sure, she gave it right back to him every time, but it was becoming exhausting to always have to deal with his asshole remarks.

————————————————————

​“Liked what you saw out there, did you, sweetheart?”

​Lauren immediately tensed at his voice, squaring her shoulders before turning around to face him.

​“I could see you undressing me with your eyes from across the way,” he continued with a smirk. “Hope you brought a change of panties.”

​Lauren’s jaw clenched as she gripped her champagne glass tighter. No after party in the world had enough booze to make this tolerable.

​“Not necessary, believe me,” she responded. “In fact, what I was wondering was how that reporter could stand to hold a prolonged conversation with you without clocking you in the face. Lord knows I’d seize that opportunity.”

​Cillian smiled widely at her, clearly amused. Goddamn, he was hot.

​“Really? I’d never peg someone as pretty as you as the violent type. I suppose it’s always the ones you least expect.”

​Did he just call her pretty? Her heart raced at the compliment, but then she shook herself. Get it together, Lauren, she thought. You hate this man, and suddenly you’re fawning over a backwards compliment that stemmed from him giving you a hard time? He didn’t even mean it like that.

​“Yes, it is, so keep that in mind the next time you think about pushing my buttons,” she responded.

​At that, Cillian took a step closer to her and leaned in, pinning her against the wall as he planted a palm above her shoulder.

​“Seems to me, there’s one particular button you’d love for me to push.” His voice was low as he looked into her eyes.

Lauren’s pulse raced and she swallowed dryly as she pressed back into the wall. When he lifted his free hand and slowly dragged a finger up her side, from her hip to her breast, it took everything in her to contain a whimper. His face hovered in the crook of her neck for a moment, and his breath fanned over her skin, giving her goosebumps.

​“How are those panties doing now?” he whispered in her ear.

​The repeated jab immediately brought her back down to Earth.

​“Oh, fuck you!” she spat as she put her hand on his chest and shoved him away. She tried to ignore the feeling of his pecs beneath his shirt.

​Cillian just smiled again.

​“Just name the time and place, sweetheart.”

​Lauren narrowed her eyes.

​“I’ve told you before, don’t call me that.”

​“And why shouldn’t I?” he asked, his smile still present.

​“Because it’s degrading. Don’t think I’m so dumb as to take it in any other way.”

​“Hmmm,” Cillian pretended to wrestle with the idea. “It’s gone on far too long now; can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”

​“Well, then we should do the next best thing for a dog and cut your balls off,” Lauren replied.

​Cillian laughed loudly.

“Again, with the violence,” he said. “All that pent up aggression isn’t healthy, sweetheart.”

Lauren huffed.

“For every time you call me that, I’m going to come up with a name for you.”

“Oh?” Cillian raised an eyebrow challengingly. “What did you have in mind? Daddy?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“’Shithead’ seems fitting,” she countered with a mischievous glare.

Cillian let out another laugh and shook his head.

“I’ve been called much worse.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about that,” Lauren replied.

He smiled at her and ran a hand through his hair again. They then both turned to look as someone hollered Cillian’s name, wanting his attention across the room. He quickly turned back to Lauren.

“Gotta run,” he said. He then reached out and took the glass of champagne from her hand, taking a sip and walking away with it. “See you later, sweetheart.”

“Shithead!” Lauren shouted after him, but she knew it fell on deaf ears, the music drowning out the insult as soon as it left her lips.

Part 2

[lavenderchqn]

𝐶𝛨𝛢𝑃𝑇𝛦𝑅 𝟎𝟐𝟓 — ECHO CHAMBER (3,2K WORDS) 𝑅𝐸𝐷 𝐿𝐼𝑁𝐸𝑆 — lyney x f!reader smau

𝑆𝑌𝑁𝑂𝑃𝑆𝐼𝑆 —

Second year of university should've been everything you thought of it - more studying with human interaction sprinkled throught... What it definitely wasn't supposed to be was an investigation saga where one of your friends goes missing out of nowhere

𝑃𝑅𝐸𝑉𝐼𝑂𝑈𝑆 — 𝑀𝐴𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅𝐿𝐼𝑆𝑇 — 𝑁𝐸𝑋𝑇 𝐸𝑃𝐼𝑆𝑂𝐷𝐸

It feels like an eternity. [Y/N] is being yanked from one alley to the next, her arm in a vice-like grip as they twist and turn through the narrow passages. The person dragging her barely spares a glance back, even as their pace quickens, movements sharp and frantic. Every change in direction makes her heart pound harder, her instincts screaming that they're being hunted — even if she can’t see their pursuers. Despite knowing how foolish it is, she clenches her jaw and pushes down the doubt, forcing herself to follow.

Her legs are burning, each step heavier than the last. Whoever is dragging her seems to have an endless energy supply, their pace relentless. [Y/N] feels like she’s on the verge of collapsing, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Every muscle in her body is screaming for a break. Should she ask them to slow down, even just a little? The thought lingers as she stumbles, unsure if she has the strength to keep up much longer.

But then, a small miracle happens. The person dragging her slows down, if only for a moment, and [Y/N] manages to catch a ragged breath. As she glances around, something strange hits her — everything looks eerily familiar. Hadn’t they passed that building before? Her heart skips a beat as the realisation sets in. For all the twists and turns, it seems like they’ve been running in a circle the entire time.

“Alright…” They finally come to a stop. “You okay there?” Weird, that’s how [Y/N] can describe her current state. Her hands are crutching her thighs, desperately trying to ground herself in any possible way. It’s odd. That voice does indeed sound familiar. Only now she can spare a glance at her sudden companion, covered in black from head to toe. Their head was covered with a face mask and a hoodie. 

Silence falls between them, unsure how to continue next. Despite the recognisable voice, striking a conversation feels difficult. Honestly with how tired [Y/N] feels, everything is difficult. Right down to catching a breath. Thank heavens it didn’t rain at all… Otherwise, she’d be both exhausted and soaked to the core. 

“Finally okay?” The person is crouched right before her, his violet eyes looking deep into her soul. Despite the dire situation, their voice is delicate and his eyes gentle. How… marvellous. 

“Yeah.” [Y/N] takes one final deep breath, before standing back up. Oh, her back is going to kill her tomorrow. “Thanks.” 

"Now that we’ve lost that damn creep…" The person in front of her finally yanks off their hood and mask. Blond hair, slightly tousled, spills free, though the braid remains perfectly intact. It’s Lyney, standing before her in all his glory. “Did ya’ miss me?” 

[Y/N] blinks in disbelief, staring at Lyney as he grins, the mischievous sparkle in his violet eyes unmistakable. His sudden appearance feels surreal, like something from one of his magic tricks. She’s so drained that it takes a moment for her brain to catch up with what’s happening.

"Did I... miss you?" she manages between ragged breaths. Her legs are still trembling, her body on the edge of collapse, and now she’s faced with him. Of course, it’s him. Who else would pull her into a wild chase through the city without a word of explanation? Typical Lyney, she thinks with an exasperated half-smile.

Lyney chuckles softly, his signature charm slipping effortlessly into his tone. "Come now, you can’t tell me you haven’t thought of me, especially after that phone call.” he teases, brushing a stray lock of blond hair back into place. "I do apologise for the rather dramatic entrance. Had to be sure we lost that guy." His gaze briefly shifts back to where they’d come from, scanning the empty alleyways with a serious expression before returning to her.

[Y/N] rolls her eyes, finally catching her breath as she straightens up. "What was that all about, anyway?" she asks, rubbing her arms to soothe the tension of her muscles. "You dragged me through half the city without a word. I thought we were being hunted!” 

Lyney’s grin fades, replaced with a more focused look. "Well, in a way, we were," he says, lowering his voice. “Surely you must’ve noticed somebody being on your trail? Unfortunately, they got a little close to comfort near that bridge…” He shrugs, his playful demeanour slipping just enough for her to see the gravity behind his words.

[Y/N]’s eyes narrow as the weight of Lyney’s words settles over her. "On my trail?" she echoes, a hint of alarm creeping into her voice. Her mind races, replaying the last few hours. “S-So… my stunt worked?”

“A stunt?!” Lyney’s face twists into one of pure disbelief. His violet eyes widen, practically glowing with shock. “Miss girl... a stunt?!” He stops dead in his tracks, running a hand through his tousled blond hair in disbelief. Lyney starts pacing back and forth, muttering under his breath, his usual composure shattered by this revelation. "I cannot believe you… You pulled a stunt? Did you not learn the 101’s of not getting kidnapped?”

[Y/N] winces, realising she might have underestimated the seriousness of the situation. She opens her mouth to explain, but Lyney is already working through it, mumbling to himself. "Unbelievable... absolutely reckless. Do you know how close you were to being caught?"

He stops pacing and turns to her, crossing his arms. "You’re lucky—damn lucky—that I spotted them first. Otherwise, your ‘brilliant stunt’ would’ve landed you straight into the hands of that creep.” [Y/N] can’t help but roll her eyes, though her heart pounds a little harder at his words. “It was a calculated risk,” she mumbles defensively.

Lyney shoots her a sharp look, his playful grin nowhere to be found. “Well, your calculations were off. Way off." He takes a step closer, his tone more serious than she's ever heard. "You were in real danger. I barely managed to pull you out in time.” It’s the first time Lyney’s voice is this cold and strict. He’s not playing around… Rightfully so. 

[Y/N] has indeed done some stupid stuff today. It’s a damn miracle that Lyney even managed to get to her… Although how he knew that is a mystery for another day… another hour at the very least. 

"But," Lyney adds, his voice softening as he places a gentle hand on her shoulder, "You’re safe now. That’s what matters. But please, no more stunts, alright? Let me handle the theatrics.” His signature smirk returns, though it’s laced with concern. 

[Y/N] can’t help but smile, feeling the tension ease a little. "Alright, alright. No more stunts," she concedes, even though she can’t help thinking it did result in something other than sore knees.

"Good," Lyney says, flashing a playful wink. "Because if you pull a stunt like that again, I swear, you'll be the one giving me a heart attack — and I'm supposed to be the magician here, not you.” With that, he gestures toward the alley ahead and extends his hand, his expression softening just a bit. "Now, let’s get moving before you come up with any more bright ideas, shall we?"

[Y/N] hesitates, but Lyney’s hand remains outstretched, patient and knowing. He can tell, despite her standing upright, that the adrenaline coursing through her will wear off any moment. She’s exhausted, and he knows it.

"I left my car nearby," he adds, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Looks like you’re stuck with me now.”

The weather has finally cleared, with the sun breaking through at last. As per Lyney’s statement, his car indeed was close by. Not wanting to cause any more havoc, they decided to head the opposite way of the university dorms. At the very least, if [Y/N] was going to be scolded for everything that she had done that day, she would rather for it to be all at once. 

Lyney stops the car. They’re in his thinking space, but to be safe, they decide to stay inside the vehicle. Silence is quite prominent between them, and neither one can start the conversation. There are far too many questions to be asked or answered. 

“Why… did you do the thing?” Lyney breaks the silence, his voice unusually soft, but there’s a sharp curiosity in his gaze. He knows [Y/N] well enough to understand that her actions weren’t random. Though he doesn’t know her as deeply as his sister does, there’s one thing he’s sure of — she’s not reckless without reason.

[Y/N] shifts uncomfortably in her seat, avoiding his eyes. The image of her friend flashes through her mind, and the haunting words from "Lolita" cling to her thoughts. How could she possibly explain this to Lyney without it sounding absurd?

“It’s… complicated,” She finally mutters, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes are everywhere but the man. Whatever had transpired over the last few days, must’ve done a number on her. “I don’t want you involved…” 

“Involved?” Lyney forces his body to be in the clear view of the girl. “[Y/N], we both know I am clearly involved in whatever you did earlier today!” Despite trying to keep his voice down, anger and confusion ooze out with every word. She could’ve been kidnapped for archon’s sake! 

Lyney sighs, leaning back into his seat, eyes still fixed on her. He doesn’t blame [Y/N] for keeping her guard up — he knows whatever drove her to act must be weighing heavily on her. Still, if he wants her to open up, he has to do it gently. It’s not trust, exactly, that he’s after, but something close — complete honesty.

“How about a game of twenty-one questions?” he suggests casually, tossing the idea into the air, a hint of playfulness in his voice. “You can ask me anything, no holds barred, but you’ve got to answer mine in return.”

He gives her a small smile, hoping the game will loosen the tension and coax her into opening up. Looking in the rearview mirror, Lyney can see [Y/N]’s eyes on him. The girl has taken a liking to his idea. 

“Alright…” She sighs, playing with her fingers. The girl is thinking of the best question to ask, just in case she’s unable to provide anything meaningful in return. “Why?”

“Why?” [Y/N]’s voice is quiet, but the question lands heavily.

Lyney blinks in confusion. “What why? You need to be more specific, darling.” He says it lightly, but his eyes widen in surprise as the pet name slips out. He quickly covers his mouth, stammering an apology, unsure why the term even came to him at that moment.

[Y/N] doesn’t react to the slip, her gaze distant. “Why did you… disappear?” she asks, her voice trembling with sadness. Her eyes, usually so sharp, soften with the memory of that night — when everything changed. The phone call still lingers in her mind. So do Furina’s sobs echoing in her ears, the panic that had seized everyone as they feared for Lyney’s safety. "Everyone has been so worried."

Lyney falls into a heavy silence. If there’s one question he hoped to avoid, it was this. But he knows as well as she does that without an answer, they’re stuck. He shifts uncomfortably, the weight of the moment pressing down on him.

“Can you… ask another?” His voice is barely a whisper, his plea carrying a vulnerability he rarely shows.

[Y/N] stays silent, watching him, her expression mirroring his, but doesn’t press.

Lyney clenches his fists, his usual confidence crumbling. “I-I want to answer it,” he stutters, his voice breaking under the emotional weight. “But it’s… it’s a lot more complicated than you think.”

He looks away as if searching for the right words, but they elude him, tangled in the storm of emotions he’s been burying.

“Okay then…” Despite knowing it’s unfair to her, she allows him to think about her previous question. Getting an incomplete answer wouldn’t lead them anywhere. “How did you find me?”

The shift in Lyney’s gaze tells [Y/N] that this question is more up his alley. He pats around his clothes, taking his phone out of a pocket. 

“You did it exactly as that errand run you once had with Lynette.” He shows her the pictures, comparing them with their earlier counterparts. The exact pattern she had hoped somebody would guess… besides the kidnapped. “I knew it from the moment you posted the camera photo.” 

“I see…Your turn.” 

The male sighs, taking in a deep breath. Time to learn what set his darling friend off. Scratch that. Friend, friend. [Y/N] was clearly his friend. 

“Why made you go on a rampage like that?” 

His violet eyes search hers, more serious than she’s ever seen them. They both knew this was coming — the question that Lyney had been desperate to ask from the second he caught up with her. The game, after all, was just a clever way to bring them to this exact point.

[Y/N] shifts uncomfortably, feeling the weight of the question. It’s the one thing she’s tried to avoid confronting. But Lyney isn’t backing down this time.

"I..." She hesitates, trying to gather her thoughts. The memory of her friend’s photo flashes before her eyes. That cold, eerie message. “I was provoked… didn’t think straight.” 

She shuffles in her seat, reaching into her bag and pulling out a folded photo. It’s still creased in the middle, just as she had left it. “[This] was left on the dorm's doorstep... addressed specifically to me.”

The look [Y/N] gives Lyney before handing over the photo is telling — cautious, with an edge of uncertainty. Though her hands tremble and her grip on the photograph is unsteady, there’s a clear message in her gaze. She wants him to understand what he’s about to see, to be prepared. Deep down, she hopes that Lyney will handle this revelation calmly, unlike her own reaction when she first saw it. After all, he’s had time to process Lynette's disappearance. Maybe he’s ready, perhaps he’s had time to reflect.

Lyney takes the printed photo from her hands, sitting up straighter, his expression unreadable but focused. A question lingers in the air, unasked but present. How did [Y/N] receive this, and more importantly, how did the kidnapper know exactly where to send it?

He carefully unfolds the photo, his breath held as the image opens up. At first glance, it seems innocent, almost ordinary. But he knows better than to take it at face value.

Lynette is lying on her side, partially draped in a blanket. Surprisingly, the setting is nothing like the dark, dingy basement one might expect from a typical kidnapping scenario. Instead, she’s in a room filled with natural light, thanks to a large window that stretches nearly wall-to-wall. The modern architecture of the place is unmistakable, with clean lines and sleek finishes visible in the room’s design.

Through the window, you can see a patch of grass, its colour dull and faded in some spots, but becoming a richer green as it nears the edge of a small stream. The room’s location on the ground floor is evident from the proximity to the stream outside. It's serene in a strange way. 

“June 13th?” Lyney asks, pointing at the date in the bottom left. “What happened then?” 

“Now it’s my turn to ask a question…” 

The male sighs, his thoughts returning to her previous question. Surely she will ask it once more. 

“About the disappearance.” 

Lyney sighs deeply, the weight of [Y/N]'s unasked question pressing down on him. He knows it's coming, just like the first time, and he isn't ready. But avoiding it won’t help. He runs a hand through his blond hair, tousling it further as he gathers his thoughts.

“About the disappearance…” he starts, his voice low, eyes fixed on the folded photo in his hands. He doesn’t look at her directly, too lost in the moment. The truth, the real reason behind his vanishing... is clawing at him, but how does he even begin to explain something so unremarkable.

He takes a breath, feeling the tension between them, knowing she’s waiting. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like that,” he finally says, his voice rough with emotion. “I just got… overwhelmed.” 

[Y/N] watches as tears form in Lyney’s eyes, her heart twisting. She never intended to push him this far, never wanted to be the reason he broke down like this. His usual bright demeanour is gone, replaced with raw emotion that he’s clearly been holding back for far too long.

"I-it was all too much..." Lyney’s voice trembles as he opens up, the emotional floodgates breaking. He tells her everything — how powerless he felt, how he wasn’t able to join the investigation. The helplessness of being looked after by Furina and Wriothesley when all he wanted to do was search for his sister. An endless frustration of not being able to act, not being able to save Lynette, not being able to do anything.

As his words spill out, Lyney spares a glance at [Y/N] and realises she’s crying too. Tears quietly stream down her cheeks, her attempts to hold them back futile. She tries to offer him some comfort — but it’s no use. The sadness in her eyes reflects his own, and they both know that nothing she says can take away the pain. She feels it too. For all their efforts, for all the leads they chased and all the plans they made, they were still standing at the same place. Still far from finding Lynette. Still at the start.

"I’ve tried everything," [Y/N] whispers, her voice shaking as she wipes away the tears. “But it’s like we’re going in circles, always just out of reach.”

Lyney looks at her, eyes filled with an aching understanding. Neither of them needs to say it aloud — the frustration, the fear, the guilt — they’ve both been carrying it.

After the emotional weight of their earlier conversation, they both seem to silently agree that the mood needs to shift. So, the questions that follow are lighter, almost as if they’re both trying to give each other — and themselves — a bit of breathing room. 

The sky between them is almost dark, albeit illuminated slightly by the last of the sunset. The world is telling them to finally rest… As they deserve to do so. It’s easy to tell, but Lyney can see [Y/N] falling asleep with every minute. She’s been barely able to keep her eyes open, not to mention hadn’t said a sentence without yawning in the middle. The adrenaline rush that was holding her awake had disappeared hours ago, replaced with a sore back and tear-stained cheeks. 

As the silence falls between them yet again, does Lyney begin his next move. At the very least this time, they’re not looking for words. It’s exhaustion taking over them… Or in the case of [Y/N]’s being in dreamland. As soon as he discovers the girl fast asleep, he covers her with his jacket. Anything to make her a little more comfortable. Only then does he reach out for something of hers. 

He knows she’ll be upset when she finds out, but he’s not able to leave her alone here, vulnerable and exhausted. Carefully, trying to not wake her, he picks up her phone and unlocks it… using her own finger. He moves quickly, finding whatever he needs at this moment. 

𝑇𝐴𝐺𝐿𝐼𝑆𝑇 — OPEN

@state-of-grac3 @santaluna @meigalaxy @romyoia

@meurtreofcrows @charles-braindump @floweringanna @moonjellyfishie @vavrin @lovelypadisarah

@dearanemo @ladylee

date of posting — october 23rd 2024

[quiet-hypnotist]

Plausible Deniability

"It's all a hoax," Tammy said in that studious tone that Ben always fell in love with all over again. "A good one maybe, but a bluff all the same." She nodded her cute little nod. Ben wasn't even sure if she knew about this habit. He had tried mentioning it once or twice but it always was met with pouty denial. By now he decided to silently appreciate the sight, but it still managed to make him chuckle sometimes. She frowned, her bright eyes meeting his as if to challenge him. "You don't believe me." She sounded confused. How could he not see the no doubt sound logic that led her to this conclusion? "Alright, alright," he conceded, "point for you. I admit it's pretty hard to confirm." Just out of curiosity he wiggled his fingers a bit faster, causing her to whimper for a moment before she caught herself again. "But could it not be that, I don't know, maybe there's a trick to it? Maybe the stories are so exaggerated only to make sure that bright little girls like you don't recognize when big bad hypnotists keep them wrapped around their finger?"  She entertained the idea. He saw it in the way her cheeks turned a darker shade of pink. Then again, it wouldn't be surprising if that was simply a result of her embarrassed pleasure when he found yet another good spot to rub. "I don't think... I don't think that could be." She was so cute when she got distracted. He couldn't help himself: "What if, though? Would you really notice the way I could change your thoughts?" That particular button was always the most fun to press. Every time without fail he watched her eyes flutter and get just that tiny bit wider, her lips trembling as if half between protest and a moan. And just like always he couldn't resist pushing that button just that one step further: "What if your firm belief that it's all fake was something I constructed so that you walk into my trap without suspecting a thing?" He recognized the sweet gasp as her mind took those words in. It always made his heart skip a beat when she looked at him with a mix of awe and flustered disbelief. Months of thought experiments and friendly debates had taught him that it was one of her biggest fantasies. But that didn't come close to seeing that same fantasy play out in her head when he put it into words for her. "It wouldn't work," she breathlessly countered, sounding like every fiber of her athletic body wanted to beg for the opposite. "I'm sure," he smirked in exactly the way that always riled her up. "To be so deeply influenced that you don't even know what I changed would be almost like right out of a work of fiction, wouldn't it?" Just for the fun of it he accentuated every taunting word with another caress of her warm skin. And she rewarded the idea with the softest mewls. Did she even realize that she had begun to lean into his touch? "You could be playing out a set of suggestions that I planted deep in your mind. Not even knowing that I am using my power over you to that extent." Was it maybe mean of him to attack her strongest fantasies? Of course it was. But among all the requests she had ever made, being fair had never been among them. "No way could you condition me like that." In response he merely flicked her nipples. The playful gesture sent a shudder through Tammy as her eyes glazed over: "I'm your oblivious slave." Even in the monotone sound of her tranced voice some trace of her excitement shone through and made him smirk: "Whatever you say, sweety." The words stirred her fighting spirit but even as she stuck out her tongue at him something seemed different. Her actions seemed just a tad slower. Less coordinated. As if the lights were no longer all on upstairs. "You just keep joking! I'm serious. Try to bring me under your spell. If it works you get to have all the fun you want. But I'll show you I can shake it off! It's simply make belief in the end." With a silent smile he pressed her nipple like a button. Silly, no doubt, but he really liked pushing her buttons when everything was said and done. Her face went slack before she could have caught the words that floated out of her mouth: "My mind is your toy." Even though no recollection of her actions remained, his beaming grin had to be a dead giveaway when she blinked and slipped back into awareness. "Are you... Are you already doing something?" He didn't miss the faint rosy blush that spread on her face. It really matched her hair since she dyed it last week. Though he figured he'd keep that to himself just a little longer. She always got just a bit too shy when he pointed out the many signs that he used to read her. If she wanted to maintain the illusion that he controlled her against her will, who was he to take that from her? Especially considering how it added so many options for fulfilling that fantasy for the both of them. "What would I be doing?" Even if her brain loved to let her feel oblivious to it, deep down it had heard that particular tone so often that it recognized it right away. Months of teasing and reinforcing suggestions kicked in and let her trained firm muscles melt like butter to the point that he needed to catch her. And yet her faint voice still reached him: "You brainwash me." He couldn't help it. This moment always sent an electrifying rush through him. There was nothing quite like her submission in this world. All the words at his disposal felt like not quite enough but he knew she was too far gone to mind. "Maybe I am," he simply replied and the sound of his voice seemed to reassure her as much as the sensation of his fingers on her skin, "or maybe I am just playing a trick on your mind. One easy way to find out. Just listen and do as you're told. Let me do the thinking for a bit." For one short moment her eyes sought his. A reflex as she fully let go. And yet there was so much in that brief glance that he burned into his memory, even as his words washed the moment away and lulled her back into that wonderful submissive dream she never fully remembered forgetting. * * *

Did you like this story? Then there’s good news! You can consider heading over to my Patreon and pledge, which will keep me writing even more smut for you every week! Yes, for you! Since my patrons even get a chance to have me write their favorite things. So head over there and learn how!

[centralcitylibrary]

Response to Death Battle's Bowser vs. Dr. Eggman: Part 1/3 - Review

These three parts feature the following media from Sonic the Hedgehog, Super Mario Bros., and Death Battle:

Basically all of Mario

Basically all of Sonic

Death Battle’s Bowser vs. Dr. Eggman

Welcome to part 1 of my response to Death Battle, the review. What do I think about this episode, the first game Sonic episode since Shadow vs. Ryuko? Eggman’s triumphant return since Season 1 over a decade ago?

Well...

Let’s not beat around the bush. This is, without a doubt, Death Battle’s best episode yet. That’s high praise, given it’s had incredible episodes over its lifespan (with multiple contenders for best/favourite episode coming just from Season 10 alone), but this episode has a very small number of episodes that can even compete with it for that position.

As you can probably surmise, major spoilers for the episode in this review, and if you somehow stumbled onto this review without having seen the episode, I urge you to go watch it. Right now. In fact, here’s a link to the episode itself so you can go watch it.

So the fight begins with Bowser’s wedding-

Nah I’m just tricking, I’m not going to skip the analyses like that, I wouldn’t disgrace the debate side of things like that. What am I, a reaction YouTuber?

Anyways, those analyses were given impressive editing, a genius at both being slick and at properly conveying what information the hosts are talking about. It really does sell every single feat and analysis they display, and the information they give flows naturally from point to point as a result.

Bowser’s analysis sets up the family aspect of him and his army quite well, at first masking it behind a joke over being mistreated and farmed for one-ups, planting the seeds for that reading while also being deliberately absurd enough to not take the supposed mistreatment seriously. It’s very well done subliminal priming for their dive into Bowser’s character.

And focusing on family for Bowser’s analysis set up a great contrast to Eggman’s, where it delved into how awesome and intelligent he is, but also on the fact that he’s really all on his own – that army might be formidable, but not a single one of them is a person in his eyes – with the sole exception to Sage. He’s so lonely that his only family was an AI girl that he created.

And both analyses cover a good blend of their most iconic and most dangerous weapons. While blatantly impossible to mention everything (even mentioned by the hosts themselves in regards to just Bowser’s troops), they did cover quite a wide blend, and every single trump card the two possessed was at least mentioned, either in the individual analyses or the post-analysis at the end.

… And yet the analyses also contain the worst part of the episode, and the main reason I wouldn’t call it perfect. Yes, the research was off, even with the black boxes included there were multiple incorrect scaling claims and questionable interpretations of how some of that equipment worked (for example, how they claimed that the Pure Hearts nullified the Chaos Heart, despite the fact that even after two uses of the Pure Hearts the Chaos Heart was still threatening to destroy everything; or how they deemed the Phantom Ruby to lose to real reality manipulation despite the fact that – for anyone caught in the Phantom Ruby’s illusions – it IS real reality manipulation).

Given the sheer size and volume of everything, it’s not a deal breaker for the episode like others are (and like a certain episode just earlier this “season”), but it’s still disappointing to see both sides not quite get their dues.

I won’t focus on it anymore however in this part, and from this point onwards I’ll operate under the assumption that the information presented in the episode is 100% accurate for the sake of the review.

… Now, if the analyses are already this good, and I’m saying the worst part of the episode is contained within them, then what does that say about the actual animation? Especially a fight like this, where it’s simultaneously a fight between two armies and one where both sides have a billion instant win buttons – such a combination is inherently difficult to write and difficult to animate, a recipe for disaster in most circumstances.

… Not this time.

This fight was perfection.

The first quarter or so of the match-up focuses on the armies and how well they fare against each other, and it uses that to transition into the first showcase of one of many trump cards – the phantom ruby.

It being so powerful that when Infinite got one tapped (genius idea to amplify gravity when Thwomps exist, loser), the focus on the two armies’ primary focus became just obtaining that gemstone. It’s chaos, different enemies being thrown around all over – even Orbot and Cubot get involved, that’s how important maintaining control over it is.

And given how powerful just the phantom ruby alone is, when that Chance Time guarantees the destruction of the Phantom Ruby, the battle immediately pivots into both combatants and their generals using their trump cards, with the armies turning into a background detail as a result.

And boy did they really sell the raw power of those trump cards. Neo Metal Sonic defeating standard Bowser in one hit and Super Neo contending with Fury Bowser after the latter overpowered both the Death Egg Robot and Sage, Fury Bowser breaking through the Death Egg Robot in a single strike, and that Grand Star boost being so powerful it obliterates Super Neo and the entirety of the Egg Fleet combined in a single blast.

Everything hits hard, and just from seeing them play out we can see that this is what will call the shots in this war.

And all that raw power comes to a head when Eggman commands Sage to fire the Death Egg’s Final Egg Blaster. This is also where the mini-story that was in the animation comes to a head here – Eggman gathering them all up under the false pretense of a wedding to take them out at once, prematurely assuming the fight’s won (and only entering it himself when he believes that), and how callously he sacrifices any robot if it’s for his own sake. Bowser, meanwhile, focused on keeping his own troops alive when the Phantom Ruby starts decimating them, and unleashed the Grand Star due to his fury at seeing Bowser Jr. harmed (which given that he was already Fury Bowser is saying something), and fighting side by side with his army and generals the whole time.

It all comes to a close with the Death Egg, as Eggman’s troops know that they’re being completely sacrificed – the only reason they’re even able to flee being because they’re all being sacrificed in an instant. Bowser, meanwhile, jumps in the way and sacrificing himself to save his army.

And it all means that when Dry Bowser emerges, Eggman’s left with no tools, no options, against the entirety of the Koopa Troop – despite the fact that only Bowser and his son were needed to close out the fight, periodically closing out Eggman’s last few remaining options one by one. He can’t fire the Death Egg again, he can’t run, he can’t use his jetpack – even his weak little gun is denied the opportunity to even fire off a shot.

And his death is celebrated as coins rain down from the sky onto the entire army.

It’s an incredible animation that really sold just how chaotic such a fight would go down with all of their best stuff combined. My only negative is that Sage ultimately did very little, I definitely think they could’ve given her a moment of commanding the Eggman Armada while Eggman himself is busy elsewhere, or a brief POV shot to showcase her aiming at Bowser’s army instead of Bowser, or gave her a voice actress to provide suggestions from her analyses.

Still though, this was already a battle jam packed full of so many factors that it would be hard to include such scenes without ruining the pacing, so I can’t really hold them against it.

Oh, and the music. I don’t have the words to really describe it properly, but the music’s incredible and fits the fight very well. Calling it Game Over is a nice touch.

And then the post-analysis kicks in, and closes out why the Death Battle team came to this conclusion for the battle. It’s a standard post-analysis, but with some really nice brief looks into alternate scenarios. I don’t like how literally all but one of them is Bowser winning for what is supposedly a really close match (and even that one exception isn’t given a conclusion), but they’re great, I really hope they show up again in future episodes when it’s appropriate to have them.

This episode was originally planned for Season 10, but ultimately had to get pushed back due to taking too long to fit in, but man am I glad they gave it the time they needed to, this is without a doubt my favourite Sonic episode in Death Battle. Wait no, scratch that, it’s my favourite episode overall in Death Battle.

I do not normally do reviews on this blog (as you can probably tell), but if it’s something you’d like to see more I can do it for some future Sonic games and/or future Sonic episodes of Death Battle. I mainly did a review this time because I wanted to preface just how much I enjoyed the episode before I delve into parts 2 and 3.

And before I forget (again), I have a Discord set up for this very blog, a temporary link will be available here, and a permanent link should be edited into my introductory message for the blog.

I hope to see you there!

[thespacenico]

not too far (you're my favorite place)

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ klance, 1.1k words

Keith has never been particularly fond of flying.

It’s not that he’s scared—not of the flying itself, at least. Planes just have a tendency to make him claustrophobic, no matter what he tries to make himself more comfortable. Too many people and too little space, too few snacks and way too much noise. There’s no such thing as a good seat on an airplane, and even if there were, there’s no guarantee that there won’t be a fussy baby in the row directly behind.

He’s just very protective of his personal space, something that airlines basically trick people into purchasing in the form of first class tickets, something which a broke college student like Keith can’t afford. If he had his way, he’d rather drive to his destination alone in a quiet, air-conditioned car, even if it added hours and hours and hours to his travel time. 

Unfortunately, driving across the Atlantic Ocean isn’t really an option. Keith was just lucky enough to be able to book a direct flight from France to the U.S. so he wouldn’t have to worry about getting lost in a foreign country while trying to catch a connecting flight. The downside is that he’s trapped in a cabin full of strangers for upwards of 10 hours. He has survived on nothing but room temperature water and chips from the airport vending machine.

He’s been in Paris for the last two weeks studying painting techniques for an art internship. Pretty much every art student’s dream, including his. He could have spent days in The Louvre if they’d let him. It feels like only yesterday that he was complaining about how far away the trip was, and now the entire summer has flown by in the blink of an eye. 

But as much as he loved his time in France, he’s anxious to get home. Two weeks is a long time. He misses Kosmo, and his bed, and struggling to decide between multiple different sugary sweet iced coffees with an abundance of whipped cream at the coffee shop on campus. The pastries he had from the bakery near his hotel were amazing, but still nothing beats Adam’s banana bread. He misses his friends, and Shiro, and pretending to be annoyed when he comes into his room just to say hi.

When the plane finally touches down and Keith switches his phone off airplane mode, the screen almost immediately lights up with a text.

8:37pm lance ♡: can’t wait to see you :)

Keith bites his lip, no doubt failing miserably to hide his smile. Oh yeah. He supposes he missed Lance, too.

The wait to collect his bag and get off the plane is probably just the same as always, but this one feels particularly infinite. Keith slips into the queue as soon as he gets the chance, his stomach flipping over on itself as he waits for the line to get moving. The moment he steps off the plane, he finally feels like he can breathe again.

He quickly navigates his way through the crowd of fellow passengers, strangely comforted by the familiarity of signs he can read in full without using Google Translate. The line at customs isn’t quite as long as he might have expected, thank goodness, and he makes it through without any issues (also thank goodness). He’s never been so happy to skip the baggage claim, his single suitcase already in tow as he hurries through to the exit.

Despite the hour, the airport terminal is still full of people rushing about. The sound of suitcases rolling and heels clacking is just white noise at this point, and Keith ignores it all as he weaves through the chaos, eyes searching for the person he knows is already waiting for him.

When his gaze finds Lance through the crowd, his shoulders relax and his heart goes still for what feels like the first time in the past 24 hours. 

Lance sees him too, his face breaking out into a wide smile as he raises an arm and waves. He’s holding a small bouquet of flowers in his other hand, something he always insists on bringing for Keith no matter how many times he tells him he doesn’t have to. It’s about the gesture for him, something that makes Keith’s chest feel warm just thinking about. His feet carry him forward without even needing to be told, picking up more and more speed with each step. 

The second that he’s within reach, Keith drops his suitcase and throws himself into Lance’s waiting arms. Lance wraps his arms around Keith’s shoulders and squeezes, careful not to crush the flowers, and Keith breathes him in as he buries his face in Lance’s neck. They simply hold each other like that for a moment, without speaking, alone together in their own little bubble for the first time in weeks. Tears prick at the corners of Keith’s eyes as Lance presses his face into his hair, kissing his temple.

“Welcome home, sweetheart,” he murmurs. Keith just presses closer, his throat tight.

Lance doesn’t say anything about it when they pull away and Keith wipes underneath his eyes, sniffing a little. It’s been a long day, and Keith is exhausted. Lance has definitely figured as much. He reaches down to pick up the handle of Keith’s suitcase, giving him a little extra time to compose himself. Usually Keith would protest, but he’s learned by now that it’s useless. 

“Are you hungry?” Lance asks. Keith is sure he already knows the answer—he’s always too anxious to eat much when flying. It’s sweet of Lance to ask anyway.

“A little,” Keith admits. A lot is what he means, and what Lance has probably gathered.

He smiles as Keith takes the flowers and slides their hands together, tangling their fingers in the space between them. “C’mon. Shiro said we could order takeout, on him. We can put on a movie and crash on the couch, and then you can tell me all about Paris in the morning.” 

Keith really could cry. Lance knows him so well, and Keith loves him so much. He nods, swinging their hands a little back and forth. “That sounds nice.” 

Lance smiles again, keeps smiling when Keith takes the opportunity to step forward and kiss him properly, lips pressed softly together. His eyes are warm when they separate and he squeezes Keith’s hand, humming. “Let’s go then.”  

On the way to the car, Keith drops his head onto Lance’s shoulder. “I missed you,” he says quietly. 

In response, Lance lays his head on top of Keith’s and swipes his thumb over his knuckles. Everything about this, about him, is so comforting and familiar that all of Keith’s stress and tension from the day instantly melts away. He could fall asleep right here right now, all just because Lance is there.

He’s never been so happy to be home.

[partystoragechest]

A story of romance, drama, and politics which neither Trevelyan nor Cullen wish to be in.

Canon divergent fic in which Josephine solves the matter of post-Wicked Hearts attention by inviting four noblewomen to compete for Cullen's affections. In this chapter, Trevelyan realises what someone is up to.

(Masterpost. Beginning. Previous entry. Next entry. Words: 3,486. Rating: most audiences. Warnings: pregnancy mention, death mentions (childbirth), self-concealment.

AN: If you need specific info regarding warnings, please message. No Commander in this, just backstory, so if you need to skip, do so.)

Chapter 28: Barrel of Laughs

“What has she done this time?”

Trevelyan posed this question to Wrehn, as they ventured into the bustling kitchens, and the quieter pantry beyond. She referred not to Lady Erridge, however, but that scoundrel—Sera.

For as they had journeyed here, Wrehn explained to her the issue at hand: Sera had played another prank on her, using her poor plum dress. Trevelyan, sarcastically speaking, could not wait to find out what exactly she had done.

“It’s in there,” said Wrehn, pointing to a barrel, open and inviting. It sat amongst a collection of containers, all of which were—supposedly—empty. “One of the lasses found it, while they was getting the barrels ready for the delivery tomorrow. If they hadn’t, it’d have been sent off to Maker-knows-where!”

Fine joke, Sera! Trevelyan could only imagine how this one connected to her revenge.

And yet, when she peered into the barrel, she found no answer. In fact, her questions doubled.

“Hm?” Trevelyan squinted, the low light of the torches causing her to doubt her own sight. But no, she was sure. “That is… not my dress.”

“What?”

Trevelyan could quite understand the mistake. The dress in this barrel was a similar shade of purple—though cooler, perhaps, and deeper in hue. Yet, in the dim, it might as well look plum to one who was not so familiar with the original. However, it had none of the embroidery, and a different cut—if this were Trevelyan’s dress, then Sera had made sure to restyle it before stuffing it in there.

But Trevelyan did not even think that had happened. Because, to her own amazement:

“I do recognise it.”

Wrehn perked. “You do?”

Purple. Purple gown. Deep purple. Thinking was hard, what with everything else already tumbling around her mind. Trevelyan scooped up the dress, and passed it to Wrehn. “Would you hold this up for me?”

Dutifully, Wrehn nodded, and by the shoulders, held the dress aloft. Though it sagged and slumped without a body to fill it, Trevelyan… recalled the shape.

Tight-fitted gown in deep purple. “This is Lady Samient’s dress!” she cried. “From the gala!”

“Oh, my!” Wrehn quickly passed it back. “Maker’s breath, how did it get here?”

“Oh, I have no doubt Sera was involved,” Trevelyan told her, “though I cannot fathom why. Lady Samient has no part in our feud—why would Sera play a trick on—?”

“What you on about?”

That interruption came not from Wrehn. It came from over Trevelyan’s shoulder. She whirled, to find Sera stood there. Casually. Acting as if she was the surprised one.

“Why did you—?” Trevelyan stopped herself, and pointed an accusative finger. “Why have you done this? I know the rules of your tomfoolery, I learnt them in the Circle—so your revenge on me I understand! But Lady Samient had nothing to do with it!

Unaffected, but very confused, Sera replied: “What?”

Trevelyan shook the dress at her. “This dress. Did you put it here?”

Sera looked at it. “No.”

“Really?”

“No!”

“It’d be best if you told her Ladyship the truth,” Wrehn advised. “Lady Montilyet won’t be pleased.”

Sera scoffed. “Wasn’t me who put that there!” She crossed her arms. “I’ve never touched that stinking dress! It was probably that woman what did it.”

“Woman?” Trevelyan raised an eyebrow. “What woman?”

Sera shrugged. “I dunno, some woman. Weirdo. Seen her ‘round here, being weird.”

Trevelyan exchanged a glance with Wrehn. She ought to doubt this story—but Sera seemed genuine enough in her insistence that Trevelyan could only accept it as truth.

“What does this woman look like?” she asked.

“Fancy, like you, but not like you”—Sera turned to Wrehn, and pointed—“she looked more like you.”

Slighted at the accusation, Wrehn sought to clarify: “What do you mean she looked like me?”

“You know!” Sera replied, as if anything she said were obvious. “Dressed like you!”

Trevelyan tipped her head. Wrehn wore the simple dress and apron of a working woman, reminiscent of Trevelyan’s own smock. Many in these kitchens and laundries wore such an outfit. Hardly distinguishable. Though Trevelyan had seen one suspicious figure dressed in such a way. But…

“That was you,” she told Sera.

Baffled, Sera replied, “What?”

“I saw you skulking around here in a laundress’ uniform, when you put my dress in the sugar sack.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did!” Trevelyan insisted.

“I don’t need to dress up to get around here,” Sera argued, to the nods of Wrehn.

But Trevelyan shook her head. “I saw you!” she protested. “I saw your—”

Ears.

That was what had convinced Trevelyan that the disguised person was Sera. In the dark, in the shadow, in the confusion, she had been able to make out only one thing, as the mystery laundress had turned her face away. Pointed ears.

But as she examined Sera’s now—they were greater in point than the ones she had seen. Meaning, the ones she had seen were not Sera’s.

A woman like Trevelyan, in disguise, with elf-blooded ears? No.

She turned to Wrehn, panicked. “Are there any more clothes, things, in any of these containers?”

Wrehn immediately absorbed her urgency, and began to look about herself. “Um, I don’t rightly know, your Ladyship. I came running as soon as they found this one!”

Trevelyan hurried over to the nearest sealed barrel, and tried to force it open. “Check them!” she cried.

Wrehn came to her assistance immediately—and, to their surprise, Sera took up barrels of her own. They heaved off the lids. Nothing.

To the next, then. Crates, with empty sacks stuffed inside. No.

As they moved to their third, a lid banged to the floor somewhere behind them. Sera exclaimed: “What? I didn’t do that!”

Trevelyan span round, and saw her peering into a barrel. “What is it?” she asked, running over.

But Sera had already grabbed whatever was inside, torn it from the bundle of clothes it was wrapped in, and now held it aloft. In the light of the torches that burned down here, it sparkled.

An Orlesian mask.

Lady Samient. But why? Disguising herself as a laundress, hiding all her things in barrels, soon to be sent off to goodness-knows-where. Lying about the Commander, concealing what the Baroness called pain. Why was Samient doing any of this?

Trevelyan’s racing mind collided with the answer.

“Maker,” she whispered under her breath, “she’s going to run.”

“What?” asked Wrehn, but Trevelyan was already backing away.

“Sera, I sincerely apologise for accusing you of this. Wrehn, please keep all of this safe—see if you can find more.” She threw open the door. “I need to speak to the owner!”

Before they could enquire further, Trevelyan was off. She ran through the kitchens—weaving past servants, dodging the boxes and linens and bottles they carried. The maze of Skyhold’s underbelly could not hold her for long.

She burst up the stairs, and out into the Great Hall. There were only so many places Lady Samient could be—though in the hustle and bustle of this space, between soldiers and nobles and staff, Trevelyan could see no sign of her yet.

The Baroness Touledy, however, was here.

“Lady Trevelyan!”

She approached with a wave, jolly for a moment, until Trevelyan’s flustered face caused her brow to furrow.

“Are you quite all right?” she asked.

“I need to see Lady Samient,” Trevelyan replied, so rushed that the words almost melded together. “Do you know where she is?”

The Baroness seemed to parse them regardless. “Her room, I believe.”

“Thank you. Has she told you that she is leaving, tomorrow?”

From the Baroness’ expression, the answer was clear: “She’s leaving tomorrow?”

Trevelyan sighed, and prepared to dart off once more. “Never mind. Thank you!”

But Touledy held out a hand. “Wait, your Ladyship—may we speak, when you have a spare moment?”

“Of course,” Trevelyan called, already hurrying away. “When I am able to!”

Though when that would be, she did not know. Not with this to consider.

Trevelyan took the stairs to the guest suites two at a time. Not a soul impeded her journey; she reached their pinnacle in seconds.

And once in the corridor, she took note. Lady Erridge must have been in her chamber as well, for her door was slightly ajar, her humming audible even here. Yet Lady Samient’s was closed, as if she were not in.

Trevelyan strode up, and knocked.

“Yes?” called Lady Samient.

“May I come in?” asked Trevelyan.

“Lady Trevelyan? No, I am—it is not a good time.”

Trevelyan tried the handle anyway. Locked.

“Lady Samient, I must come in, urgently,” she pleaded. “I know about the barrels. Please.”

But Samient laughed. “Barrels?” She scoffed. “What are you talking about, Lady Trevelyan?”

Trevelyan glanced down the hall, to the half-open door of Lady Erridge. She did not want it to come to this.

“Lady Samient, please let me in,” she begged, “or shall I ask you about your plans to run away loud enough for Lady Erridge to hear?”

Silence. Trevelyan breathed through it.

Then, footsteps. Approaching the door. A key, turning in a lock. A moment of pause. And then, it opened.

Lady Samient stood before her, nothing like the strong, unshakable woman Trevelyan knew. Her eyes, usually so full of determination, were hollow and reddened. Her hair slumped against her skull. She wore only a plain shirt, and creased breeches. She looked… empty.

Empty as her room. Samient hurried Trevelyan in, shut and locked the door behind them. Not a single possession of her own sat anywhere amongst the space. Just the muddy coat she had once arrived in, hung over the back of a chair. Samient dropped onto it.

“What’s going on?” Trevelyan asked.

Samient sighed. “What do you know?”

“That your things have been hidden in the barrels due to be taken with the delivery tomorrow”—Trevelyan moved closer—“that said delivery happens to be on the day you told me you were leaving”—she took a seat next to Samient—“and that you lied about the other Ladies knowing of your departure. So I wouldn’t tell them myself, I assume.”

Samient wiped at her eyes. “You think that means I’m running away?”

“Oh, yes.” Trevelyan leant forward. “You’ll hide yourself amongst the barrels, correct? Travel with them out of Skyhold? I know that plan. I thought of it myself, the day we helped with the delivery. And I believe that’s when you did, too.”

Lady Samient turned. Her gaze fixed upon the window, at the other side of the room. Yet Trevelyan could tell—she wasn’t really looking at it.

“Lady Samient,” Trevelyan pleaded, “you said last night you see me as a kindred spirit. If that is true, then… whatever this is, please, tell me. You can tell me. I can help.”

Samient’s shoulders sank. Over her leftmost, she said, “Are you sure?”

“I will try.”

Lady Samient sighed once more. “I… I wish to say, first and foremost, that my father is a good and caring man. He always has been. He raised me well, made sure I had everything I needed—but… he is not infallible. He has made mistakes.”

Trevelyan tried to think of what she knew of Duke Samient, but all she had was that which Lady Samient had told her. The knowledge that he was a fine horserider, for example, and had taught Samient too; that he had the same disdain for much of Orlesian pageantry as she did; that he had once dreamt of being a musician, but had only ever performed for his daughter.

Such nice things. Trevelyan wondered now if any of it were true—or, perhaps, if it were, then what was missing from that truth.

“Tell me,” she said.

Samient nodded. “My father was arranged into marriage with the late Duchess Samient,” she explained. “They were civil, but didn’t care for each other. Therefore, for obvious reasons… they never had an heir. Not together, at least.”

So it was true. Lady Samient was not the child of the Duke and Duchess—yet, as Trevelyan recalled it, the rumour the Baroness had relayed was that Samient was the natural daughter of the Duchess. Yet, it sounded as if—

“The Duchess did run off with a servant, that much is true,” Samient confirmed. “But I am not her child.”

For soon after the Duchess had begun her affair, and vanished into the night, the Duke’s attempts to find her were paused.

“While she was away, a Dalish clan settled near Samient,” Lady Samient explained. “My father, wanting things to be amicable between his people and the elves, met with their Keeper, and some of the other clan members.”

She pushed back her hair, to reveal a slightly pointed ear.

“Including my mother.”

“Maker,” Trevelyan breathed. Then she had indeed seen Samient, disguised, in the kitchens. Whilst Trevelyan had been searching high and low for her dress, Samient was busy hiding her own.

“My father says it was the happiest year of his life,” she continued. “He told me so many stories of my mother—showing her the gardens, hunting in the woods… they loved one another. He renewed his attempts to find the Duchess, only so that he could properly separate from her. He wished to marry my mother instead.”

Trevelyan steeled herself. For she already knew, that was not the ending to come.

Samient breathed deep. “The Duchess did return, but the Maker never makes things so simple, does he? Her lover had left her, sick and pregnant. And my father—though he ought to have turned her away, would not condemn her child for her mistakes. He allowed her to stay.”

“Oh, no…” Trevelyan murmured, grim predictions forming in her mind.

“Like I say,” Samient said, turning around, to show her face streaked with tears, “he is a good man at heart. But he is not infallible. Though he kept them apart, the Duchess was not best pleased with this ‘elven usurper’. Especially as she was also with child.” Samient shut her eyes tight. “And in this vulnerable state, the sickness was passed to her. Of all four… I was the only one to survive.”

Trevelyan reached for Lady Samient’s arm, and as Samient had once done for her, squeezed it with all the love and warmth she could muster.

“I’m so sorry, Lady Samient,” Trevelyan whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“Giles,” she corrected. “My mother heard the name one day while out with my father, and liked the sound. Regardless of whether I suited it, I was to be called Giles.”

“Would you prefer I called you Giles?”

“It is how I would prefer you to remember me. Once I have left.”

Trevelyan rubbed her arm. “Why leave? What happened, after you were born?”

Lady Samient—or Giles, perhaps—placed her hand over Trevelyan’s. “My father, seeing an opportunity to protect my future inheritance, told the Courts that I was the legitimate daughter of he and the Duchess. He claimed her absence from Samient had been taken to aid her recovery from a ‘long-term illness’, which had sadly, nonetheless, taken her life. He was fortunate that my ears were not too pronounced, though hats and masks and hair were employed, to keep them hidden. The Council of Heralds remains unconvinced, however. Hence why they refuse me my proper title.”

Samient smiled a wicked smile, one that was pained in every facet. Trevelyan pitied her.

“You’ve had to hide who you are for so long,” she muttered. “I cannot fathom it.”

“You can,” Samient said. “Is that not what mages are taught to do?”

“Not to this extent.”

Samient shrugged. “I suppose I did not even see the problem in it, until recently. My father had always been good to me, raised me well, as I said. I thought it were simply the price to pay to lead the life I had. But… something happened, and my opinion of him has been changed, I fear.”

“Is this incident the reason you wish to run away?” Trevelyan asked.

Lady Samient nodded. “Our first ever argument,” she revealed. “Honestly, I cannot remember another. It was, as these things are, about a man. You remember that stablehand I mentioned—taught me chess?”

“I do.”

“We did a little more than play chess. My father found out, and… did not like the resemblance to certain historical events.”

Trevelyan recalled the Comtesse’s comment to Samient at the banquet. “Too much like the Duchess?”

“And himself,” Samient added. “This man was elven. From the alienage, in Montsimmard.”

Far too close for comfort.

“I’m sorry his reaction was so unkind.”

“I think he was afraid I would repeat his mistakes—or worse, the Duchess’. So, he sent the poor man off to the frontlines, and me, here. My father does not want me to marry the Commander, not truly. It was a message. ‘You want to play with poor men? Go on, play. Get it out of your system.’”

Perhaps it was a good thing, then, that the Commander had no interest in her. Is that why she’d flirted with him (or rather, attempted to)? To annoy her father?

An explanation came swiftly: “I only accepted because it meant an opportunity to run away. I thought it might come from perhaps manipulating the Commander, but he proved immune to my attempts at seduction.” She laughed, at this folly. “So, I made a plan of my own. I acquired a laundress’ uniform, began to hide my things amongst the empty barrels to be sent away with the delivery, and will join them myself tomorrow.”

Trevelyan shook her head. “Where will you go?”

“I want to find my mother’s clan—Sumara—and live with them.”

“Do you know where they are?”

Samient clutched a trinket at her neck—a wooden pendant, twisted into the form of a Halla’s horn. “Ghila’nain will guide me home.”

Trevelyan could not help but be affected by this: her faith, and her pursuit of home. If there were somewhere in the world that Trevelyan knew she belonged, she would not hesitate in running there, either. But… Lady Samient would get nowhere like this.

“Perhaps the Inquisition can help,” she suggested. “Locate your clan, send you on your way?”

Samient withdrew her arm. “No. If they tell my father—”

“They could be persuaded not to—”

“No. They fear the Duke Samient’s power more than they care to help his daughter.”

Trevelyan insisted: “They have taken greater risks than this.”

“Tell me, Lady Trevelyan: would you ask them for help with your parents?”

Though she opened her mouth, Trevelyan stopped herself. She thought of this morning, and the fear that had led her to conceal to the Commander her true feelings about her ‘home’. And she quickly understood.

“That is why I see you as a kindred spirit, Lady Trevelyan,” Samient explained. “After you read that letter from your parents, I realised, we were here for the same reasons. I was being punished for my indiscretion, and you, for the crime of merely existing.”

A sting at Trevelyan’s eye made her realise: she had never heard her situation put into such words before. But they made perfect sense.

“What about my help?” she asked, with a renewed sense of determination. “What if I found where your clan was, and arranged some travel, without alerting any of the Inquisition to the true reason for it all?”

Something in Samient’s usual facade of unswerving composure broke, and Trevelyan recognised it. She was now to Lady Samient as the Commander had been to her. Sharing the burden.

“Could you?” asked Samient.

“Yes, of course. I can try. Though I have a journey to the Dales to prepare for… but, once I am returned—”

Samient shook her head. “That will be too late. We will only have a week left once you are back. This is why I had to act now—we are closer now to going home than we are our arrival.”

This, Trevelyan had not yet realised. The thought struck her like a blow from an axe. She pushed it aside. Not now.

“I know, but I can set things in motion before I leave,” she assured Samient, “I can ask for the clan to be found whilst I am away, and plan how we shall smuggle you out. Departing on the final day may actually work out best—the Inquisition shall suspect less if you leave when you are intended to.”

After a moment, and a deep breath, Lady Samient began to nod. “All right,” she said. “But I assure you, Lady Trevelyan: at the end of this month, I will not go home.”

Trevelyan agreed, those words echoing in her mind all the rest of the day.

At the end of this month, she would not go home.

[na-ta-sh-aa]

Ooh I missed them so much but even though it's been a while since I last read about them the emotions they conveyed to me and made me feel are still the same and are always immensely wonderful and special🥹🫶🏼

“You had recorded yourself reading both headstones and having a little conversation with your in-laws about the baby. It was just meant to be something you and Bradley could watch one day with the nugget, but it brought a smile to your face.”

I love how BG wants and tries in every way to share and create special moments between their baby and Bradley's parents even though they are no longer here. Surely Carole and Goose will not be physically present with them but their memory will never cease to exist🥹

“You wanted Bradley. You wanted Bradley to hold you and let you throw up everywhere and tell you that you were still pretty and that he loved you even if you cried on the toilet and ate crackers while you lay on the floor.”

“Tears burned your eyes, and Cat looked like she was going to scream. Pull it together. Ignore the sensation. Clip the microphone onto your shirt. Start talking.”

I loved this part, on the one hand because of how Bradley is her safe place, whenever she's in trouble she immediately thinks of him. On the other hand because she clearly shows what a strong woman she is. Even though she wasn't one hundred percent, she still managed to complete her job in a perfect way!

“The only fun he'd been having was slowly filling up that pink and blue notebook with his musings for the little nugget.”

Little nugget will be so lucky to have two wonderful parents like BG and Bradley, the fact that they are both creating so many memories that they will one day be able to share with him/her makes me so emotional🥹

“You'd both been saving money for the future, and he figured the future had arrived since there was a baby on the way.”

The phrase “baby on the way” makes my heart skip a beat every time I think about it🥹🫶🏼

“He had been reading every pregnancy article online that he could find, but none of the tricks he saw were helping you with the nausea. You were probably just going to have to wait it out. He would be ready to rub your shoulders and put a cool washcloth on the back of your neck when you got home.”

And once again Bradley proves to be the sweetest husband there could be😭🫶🏼

“We can always find out later tonight if you want to invite me to your room again." And then there was a very familiar, feminine laugh before Bob appeared ten feet ahead of him.”

Is something developing between Maria and Bob? AHH I love it!!!

"I'm planning on having dinner this evening with a few of the admirals if you'd like to join us. Cocktail attire. Overpriced steaks. You know, the usual." 

“His slight eye roll had you laughing and agreeing immediately.”

Is it me or is Patterson hitting on BG?

“Baby Girl, I'll fuck the absolute shit out of you all weekend. In fact, I can't wait to do that. I'll take care of everything you need."

I can't wait for their reunion🫠

“Please, call me Derek," he told you as he sank down into the seat across from you, and then he started using your first name without permission.”

The fact that he touched her without permission, that he started using BG's name without her asking and the way he acts makes me doubt Derek, for now I don't have a good impression of him and his intentions.

“You placed your hand on your belly, trying to subtly thank the baby for cooperating right now.”

This gesture warmed my heart🥹

“You're gorgeous. I wanted to get you alone. Let you know how much better things could be. Offer to set you up for a one-on-one meeting with Admiral Jennings tomorrow if you come home with me tonight. It's on the table if you want it."

Ooh I knew he was lying and had other plans, Derek is disgusting!

“Then the waitress set down some takeout containers while you practically tossed the empty plate back at Derek. You scraped as much of the food into the first box as would fit before moving to the second one. "He's paying for dinner," you told the waitress. "And I'm taking one fork and one steak knife with me. He'll pay for those as well." You shoved the rest of the bread into the last box and then stacked them all up before meeting Derek's eyes. "You just ruined the first meal I've been able to stomach in weeks, asshole. And my husband is a nice man. Very sweet. Treats people with respect. But if he were here right now, you'd have a bloody face and some broken ribs." 

I loved how BG didn't let herself be intimidated by Derek, how she handled the situation and how she threw the truth in his face, Derek was really delusional if he thought he could blackmail BG like that and at the same time he was really lucky that Bradley wasn't there!

“Bradley honestly could not fathom how that guy had ruined your dinner. All he knew was that you told him you were horny as hell when you got to the restaurant, and that he didn't trust guys he didn't know around you. Most men were disgusting, and you were lovely and also pregnant with his child.”

“Bradley almost dropped his phone. "Did he touch you?" he growled, switching to speaker phone as he rushed through the backyard toward the house and looked for flights to Maryland at the same time. "Did he fucking touch you?!"

Poor Bradley, I think he lost his breath for a few moments at the thought of what could have happened to BG. I love how he is always so protective of her and how he is always ready to reach out to her no matter how far away she is from him🥹

"I love you too, Baby Girl. Can you put your phone down by your belly?"

"Mmhmm," you hummed, pressing your lips together to keep from squealing at how sweet this man was.”

"And I love you, too, my little nugget. Be nice to Mommy."

What a wonderful and perfect way to end the chapter!😭🫶🏼

Like I said before I missed BG, Bradley and little Nugget so much! Having read this chapter brought me back a bit of happiness and serenity that I haven't had in this period, and for this I wanted to thank you with all my heart. Coming back to the chapter it was really full of emotion and I loved every word. I love seeing how Bradley is so important to BG and how she is such a strong woman that she doesn't let anything or anyone drag her down, she really is an example. Just as I love seeing how Bradley is always ready to protect and support BG at all times, their love is truly something so special and unbreakable. Derek was very wrong to even think that Bradley and BG could ever stop loving each other, he has no idea what they went through together and how they came out stronger than ever! A special mention to Bob and Maria, for me it's a huge yes!! I'm so happy for them and I love how it was partly thanks to BG too! Aww I love them with all my heart and I'm so excited to continue reading more of them. The chapter was truly amazing, I loved it madly! It's so good to be back! 🥹💗✨

Always Ever Only You Part 33 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Getting through your second presentation feels like a battle of wits against your own body. Then after weeks of barely being able to stomach anything, you are presented with the most enticing dinner. But it's the food that's alluring, not your dinner mate, and Bradley has a few things to say about the mess you get yourself caught up in.

Warnings: Swearing, adult language, pregnancy topics, angst, fluff, phone sex, masturbation

Length: 5800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

You slept like a lovesick log after your long drive back to the hotel from the cemetery. Exhausted from throwing up in the shrubs, you curled up in bed and watched the video you took for your son or daughter. You had recorded yourself reading both headstones and having a little conversation with your in-laws about the baby. It was just meant to be something you and Bradley could watch one day with the nugget, but it brought a smile to your face. 

You were decidedly no longer smiling when you woke up on Wednesday and had to race to the toilet. "Why is this happening again?" you asked the bath mat as you curled up in a ball. You had another, longer presentation to give. You had admirals to chat with. You had a whole lot to get done today. You didn't have time for this right now.

Even brushing your teeth was a chore. Changing into your uniform was an issue. At least your pants felt a little looser today. You honestly could not keep up with the way your body was bloated half the time and normal the rest of the time. 

You realized your makeup was pretty much the only thing holding your life together at the moment as you swiped on some mascara. Then there was a knock at your door, and it felt like you were doing the same thing all over again today, because essentially you were. You and Cat had to struggle with the bin of equipment. You had to fight to stay awake in the rental car. The nausea was turning  your life into a game of sheer determination to keep the bagel that you ate from coming back up. 

"Are you okay?" Cat asked you a few minutes before the presentation was about to start. 

"Of course," you told her in what you hoped was a reassuring tone. "Why wouldn't I be?" You shrugged and smiled serenely at her. 

"Because you're sweating bullets. And you've been pacing around the hallway."

You cleared your throat and insisted, "It's just really hot in here."

"It's not," she replied. "Please. I'm begging you. Just keep it together for another ninety minutes, okay? After that, you can do anything you want. Hell, I'll do anything you want me to do. But we need to get through this presentation." 

Her voice sounded panicked, and now you were looking around the hallway for a garbage can. But it was too late. The two of you were being called into the presentation room. Commander Patterson and Admiral Klein were sitting in the front row smiling at you. Shit, more admirals were here today. Oh fuck, all of these people wanted to hear your extended presentaion. A bead of sweat rolled down the back of your neck, past your shoulder blades and along your spine. You wanted Bradley. You wanted Bradley to hold you and let you throw up everywhere and tell you that you were still pretty and that he loved you even if you cried on the toilet and ate crackers while you lay on the floor. 

Tears burned your eyes, and Cat looked like she was going to scream. Pull it together. Ignore the sensation. Clip the microphone onto your shirt. Start talking. 

"Good afternoon. Lieutenant Coleman and I are back to expound upon our research presentation from Monday which covered communications engineering at Top Gun. You can find a copy of our slides in the information packet in front of you. Please hold your questions until we pause for a break. Let's get started."

--------------------------

Bradley really wasn't doing well without you at home. He was barely eating anything besides cereal and sandwiches, and he was going to bed hungry at night. The only fun he'd been having was slowly filling up that pink and blue notebook with his musings for the little nugget.

He was having a hard time sleeping, and he didn't like how quiet the house was. Even Tramp kept looking for you, occasionally running to the front door and whimpering. "We'll see her on Friday," he told the dog as he had potato chips and coffee for breakfast on Wednesday morning. "Two more days of this bullshit." 

When he got home from work on Tuesday, he broke down in tears as he looked at the photos you sent him from the cemetery. You even took a video where you were talking to him and the nugget and his parents. He still couldn't believe you took the time to drive there and make it so special for him. After he finished crying, he made his way back up to the attic where he took the half wall down to the studs. Then he realized that he really needed to call some contractors before you came home and saw the mess he made. 

While he drove to work in the red Bronco, he left messages, hoping to get some estimates in the next week or so. One thing that he'd been slowly coming to terms with was the fact that you didn't need him to take care of you by paying for everything. Both of your incomes were going toward the mortgage payments and all the necessities. You'd both been saving money for the future, and he figured the future had arrived since there was a baby on the way. 

When he parked in the garage on base, he noticed he had some new texts from you.

Baby Girl Bradshaw: I miss you. I'm struggling today. I think the nugget hates me. I'll call you later after my presentation and all of this other shit is over. 

He wanted to text you back, but he didn't want to be a distraction, so he tucked his phone into his pocket and ran his fingers through his hair. He had been reading every pregnancy article online that he could find, but none of the tricks he saw were helping you with the nausea. You were probably just going to have to wait it out. He would be ready to rub your shoulders and put a cool washcloth on the back of your neck when you got home.

Bradley walked the long way around to the classrooms since he was early and didn't need to stop in the locker room to change. When he passed the stairwell that would have taken him up to your office and the engineering labs, he swore he heard Bob's voice. He paused, and he definitely heard Bob's laugh. When the door to the stairs opened, he heard Bob say, "We can always find out later tonight if you want to invite me to your room again." And then there was a very familiar, feminine laugh before Bob appeared ten feet ahead of him.

He stared at Bob, and Bob stared back as the door closed, leaving the two of them alone. Bradley thought back to the way Bob and Maria were looking a little cozy at brunch last Sunday. This was interesting.

"Hey, Bob," Bradley said with a grin. "How are you enjoying your new apartment with Maria?"

His cheeks immediately flushed pink, and Bradley bit his lip to keep quiet as Bob started stuttering. Frankly, he was proud of his friend for sounding so much more self assured a few seconds ago when he was tucked inside the stairwell with Maria. "I-I d-don't know... are y-you... I d-din't think that..."

Bradley let him flounder through a few more partial sentences before he said, "If you're hooking up with Maria Wilson, then good for you, man. Well done."

Bob cleared his throat, adjusted his glasses and ran his hand along the back of his neck. "Thanks," he muttered as he stared at the floor. 

"You want me to keep this information to myself?"

Bob's blue eyes went wide as they met Bradley's. "Please." He swallowed hard. "I don't think she wants anyone else to know." His voice was just a whisper as he said, "I'm sure she'd be embarrassed if people found out."

Then he turned and left Bradley standing there alone. He'd been in that position before with you. Before you made things official. And he had been miserable. "Poor Bob," he muttered as he followed him at a distance. The best case scenario would be if Maria confided in you when you got back from Annapolis. Bradley would have to be cool about you going to brunch on Sunday even though he already wanted you and the baby all to himself again all weekend.

-----------------------

You made it. Somehow you got through the full hour and a half. You nailed your parts, and so did Cat. You and she answered questions for at least an additional thirty minutes, and now she was packing up the equipment while you sent a quick text to Bickel. 

"Your research is very compelling, Lieutenant Commander."

You looked up into the eyes of Commander Patterson, and he smiled warmly at you. Unfortunately, the only thing you could really think about was the way you'd been picturing Bradley's cock the last time you talked to him. At the moment, you were so fucking horny, you felt like rubbing yourself against the wall and crying until you got some relief.

"Thank you, sir," you managed to say while you tried to focus on his face and his words. "It has really become a passion project, trying to keep actual aviators in the air versus the drone agenda. Real people making real decisions based on their surroundings and the immediate threats they are facing will always win out against a laboratory manufactured software protocol."

"I couldn't agree more." He took a step closer and said, "And the way you presented your findings made it so clear that you're eager for others to understand how important that is as well."

"Absolutely," you told him with a smile of your own. "And the funding for communications research is so important." 

You were probably going to have to go to the cocktail hour tonight just to get your face out there since you skipped the previous one to drive to Virginia. But you were almost instantly saved from having to do that as Commander Patterson said, "I'm planning on having dinner this evening with a few of the admirals if you'd like to join us. Cocktail attire. Overpriced steaks. You know, the usual." 

His slight eye roll had you laughing and agreeing immediately. That sounded a lot better than trying to ditch champagne flutes all night. You'd still be able to chat with some superiors, and right now, you were actually hungry. "That sounds great. I'll see if Lieutenant Coleman can join as well."

With that, his smile wavered a bit, but he told you the name of the restaurant, and you promised to be there at seven o'clock. Cat had all the equipment packed up, and she was ready for you to help her carry the bin. "Hey, you want to come eat an overpriced steak later? With Commander Patterson and some others?" you asked as you tried your best to lift with your legs.

"Why didn't you tell me before? I already agreed to some stupid happy hour with a handful of admirals, but I love overpriced food when you don't have to pay for it."

You laughed and said, "That's probably better. We can divide and conquer this way. Bickel will like that."

As the two of you hoisted the bin into the rental car, Cat smiled and said, "You know what else he'll like? The fact that we nailed the presentation again today. I'm sorry I doubted you."

"Don't do it again," you told her with a smirk. Of course then you promptly started falling asleep while she drove back to the hotel, and when you got to your room, you passed out in bed until it was time to get ready for dinner. 

It was only three o'clock for Bradley, and even though you wanted to call him, you decided to wait a little longer. You inhaled a pack of peanut butter crackers while your stomach growled loudly. "What is with you today?" you asked the baby. "You're finally hungry? Or are you going to make me barf again?" You got a loud rumble in response. "I know you like Daddy better, and we'll be home in two days. Relax."

As you redid your makeup, you started thinking about Bradley. And then you thought about how delicious he smelled right after he finished a workout. And then you thought about how nice and big his cock is. And then you thought about all the sounds he makes and the way me moans your name when his cock is inside you.

"Oh hell," you whined, pressing your thighs together. You needed to get some relief with your toys until you could get back home, but you didn't have time for that right now. The combination of being so hungry and so horny was almost too much to handle, and you ended up calling Bradley on the short drive to the restaurant. It was barely four there, so you were surprised when he answered. 

"Hey, Sweetheart."

Two words. He said two fucking words, and you were moaning and having a hard time focusing to drive. "Roo. Oh my god."

"What's wrong?" he snapped immediately. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," you gasped, parking the car and squeezing the steering wheel. "I'm just so horny. And Commander Patterson asked me out to dinner, and I seriously need to get fucked, Bradley. Like you have no idea how bad it is right now."

You could hear him mutter something, and then you thought you heard Jake's voice before Bradley quietly said, "Baby Girl, I'll fuck the absolute shit out of you all weekend. In fact, I can't wait to do that. I'll take care of everything you need."

"Daddy," you moaned, realizing you should have masturbated instead of taking that nap.

"But please tell me who the fuck Commander Patterson is. All I know is that you said he's that guy who asked if Top Gun aviation is the right fit for you?" Another moan escaped your lips as you thought about being a tight fit for your husband. "Yeah, you sound wrecked, Sweetheart," he crooned in that raspy voice. "I don't think you should go to dinner with some guy I don't know. I don't care what his rank is.

You sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "It's not just with him. Some admirals are coming too. I need to meet the admirals, Bradley. And I'm already at the restaurant." When you looked further up the block, you saw Patterson heading inside.

Bradley made a frustrated sound. "Text me when you can? And call me when you're leaving later?"

"I will," you promised as your stomach growled. You were so excited that the nugget seemed to want to eat this steak, you almost hung up before you said, "I love you."

You straightened out your black cocktail dress as you practically ran down the sidewalk in your high heels which you rarely ever wore except in your bedroom with your husband. The delicious smells from the restaurant were wafting out onto the sidewalk, and you were going to cry if there wasn't some bread or something already waiting on the table. 

"There you are, Lieutenant Commander." 

Patterson was waiting inside the entryway where at least the sound of the air conditioner blasting and the conversation around you was blocking out your growling stomach. He was smiling as his hand found the small of your back. "Our table is ready. We can go right there." 

When he applied some pressure with his hand, you lurched forward. Perhaps he was just trying to help you navigate through the crowd, but he could keep his hands to himself. He must have known you were married. You decided to make a show of pointing out some hideous artwork with your left hand, practically shoving your rings in his face. "That's a lovely painting, Commander," you told him, but he just smiled and nodded at you before pulling out a chair at a table set for four.

"Please, call me Derek," he told you as he sank down into the seat across from you, and then he started using your first name without permission. The one blessing was the fact that there was an enormous basket of bread sitting right in the middle of the table along with a variety of spreads and dips. 

You moaned softly and had to bite your lip as you reached for a soft looking roll and the chive butter. Derek was staring at you with parted lips and wide pupils. Had he never seen a woman eat before? Had you ever been this hungry before? You licked your lips as you spread some of the butter onto the roll, and then you took a bite and moaned again. 

Holy. Fucking. Shit. 

After weeks of feeling miserable, you finally knew you could stomach this meal right now. You were still so turned on, and yet your exhaustion was bone deep at this point, but the bread was like a lifeline to normalcy, and you were grabbing onto it. 

Derek cleared his throat as he watched you take those first few sumptuous bites. "I've got to know," he said smoothly, "exactly what would lure you back to Annapolis for good?"

You popped the rest of the roll between your lips and chewed it up before you said, "Nothing."

"There would have to be something. Better research facilities? Your own lab? Both of your degrees and your work are so impressive, you must know there would be endless possibilities for you here."

You were shocked. Running your own lab was your dream. The idea of being in charge of a research team made your skin prickle with desire. You hoped that could be a possibility someday, but you weren't even thirty-five yet. You figured maybe ten years from now when Bickel was getting ready to retire, you'd be able to take his place. 

"My own lab?"

Derek smiled, all white teeth and handsome expression, and then the waitress arrived. You wanted to jump out of your seat and hug her when she asked if you'd like to order any appetizers.

"Do you know when the others will be here?" you asked Derek. "Should we wait to order?"

He shook his head vaguely. "They'll be late. We can order. Get whatever you want."

You almost laughed giddily as you ordered three appetizers and then a steak dinner complete with garlic mashed potatoes and two vegetables. "We can share the appetizers," you said when he looked at you in surprise, even though you didn't want to. You placed your hand on your belly, trying to subtly thank the baby for cooperating right now. 

When the waitress finished taking his order and then departed, you asked, "Which admirals are joining us?"

"Hmm? Oh... uh, Rivera and Silverman."

You were not familiar with either of them which made you panic slightly. You should have done more research on who was attending each of the lectures. Why hadn't you done that? Oh, right... because you were too busy throwing up. The bread basket called to you, and before you knew it, you'd eaten more than half while Derek droned on about how amazing you'd be running your own lab. He didn't even know you, which made this more annoying than anything else, but your stomach was holding up spectacularly, so you could overlook it. You could have kissed the waitress when she came back with the appetizers.

"So, do you live alone?" he asked as you dipped two mozzarella sticks into some marinara sauce. You paused before shoving them into your mouth so you could chuckle. 

"No. I live with my husband and our dog." Then the fried cheese hit your tongue, and it was like you were living in a world of color after weeks in black and white. Your stomach gurgled pleasantly, finally accepting food once again. Tears of joy stung at your eyes as you took a forkful of crispy brussels sprouts and a potato skin.

Derek laughed and asked how old you were, but your mouth was full, so he said, "Let's just say, my career in Annapolis outlived my bad marriage. And that's been the case for many, many officers."

You swallowed the potato like it was a lead weight. That had definitely been the case for Cat, unfortunately. And you'd heard a lot of stories, sure, especially when you were at the Naval Academy. And perhaps that was part of the reason you fought against the mere idea of being with Bradley at first. One officer in a relationship with a civilian was bad enough, but two officers trying to make it happen together usually spelled disaster.

But you felt stronger with Bradley. The two of you worked hard to get through your struggles and end up in a better place. You and he were going to be parents, for fuck's sake. 

"Just sharing my two cents with you," Derek added, still smiling. "You're young, and you haven't lived it yet, but I can tell you that you'll go farther here than in San Diego. Especially if you're already open to the idea of having more."

You wanted to check the time on your phone; you must have been sitting here for over half an hour by now. The other two chairs were still empty. Derek was starting to get under your skin. 

"I'm open to the idea of pursuing my career at Top Gun along with my husband."

"He's an officer as well?" Derek asked with a laugh. "I'm sure he's having a great week back in San Diego without you."

You felt heat flame up your neck and into your cheeks as your steak dinners arrived. "Yes, he's an officer. He's a Top Gun aviator."

"He deploys?" Derek asked in disbelief before laughing harder. "You should make the move back to the east coast now, before he ruins your life. If he hasn't already."

He had gone from complimenting you to trying to humiliate you in a matter of minutes. You'd been blinded by the glorious meal, but the truth hit you square in the chest. As he picked up his fork and steak knife, you asked, "Why did you lie to me about two admirals coming? Do Rivera and Silverman even exist?"

Somehow his smile was still persistent as he said, "Sure, they exist. They went to the cocktail reception on base." You watched the knife sink into his steak as he added, "You're gorgeous. I wanted to get you alone. Let you know how much better things could be. Offer to set you up for a one-on-one meeting with Admiral Jennings tomorrow if you come home with me tonight. It's on the table if you want it."

In one quick movement, you snatched his plate away from him with the fork still stuck in the steak. "Okay, well fuck you, Derek," you snarled, standing up and waving for the waitress. "You're disgusting and delusional if you thought I would even consider going home with you."

"Can I get you anything?" the waitress asked cautiously, and you realized you were causing a bit of a scene now in the crowded restaurant. 

"Yes. I need boxes. Like a whole bunch of takeout boxes," you told her. "I'm taking all of this food with me."

"Right," the waitress replied, her gaze drifting to Derek who looked very unamused. 

"I'm taking his meal, too," you snapped. "Hurry up with the boxes."

She scurried away as you piled all of the food onto one plate and said, "You're so fucking stupid, Derek. I already have Admiral Jennings' phone number. I met her last year. I told her to her face that I'm staying in San Diego."

"Well then you're making a bad choice," he told you.

Then the waitress set down some takeout containers while you practically tossed the empty plate back at Derek. You scraped as much of the food into the first box as would fit before moving to the second one. "He's paying for dinner," you told the waitress. "And I'm taking one fork and one steak knife with me. He'll pay for those as well." You shoved the rest of the bread into the last box and then stacked them all up before meeting Derek's eyes. "You just ruined the first meal I've been able to stomach in weeks, asshole. And my husband is a nice man. Very sweet. Treats people with respect. But if he were here right now, you'd have a bloody face and some broken ribs." 

You picked up the boxes, grabbed the utensils, and made your way toward the exit. You went straight for your rental car and climbed inside before cranking the engine. Then you took a massive bite of garlic mashed potatoes before cutting off a piece of Derek's steak while you called your husband. 

-------------------------

Bradley was working out in the garage when your ringtone cut across the playlist you made for him. He practically dropped his barbell to the cement floor to get his phone from where it was sitting on the tool chest. "Sweetheart. I wasn't expecting to hear from you quite yet. Didn't we just get off the phone?" he asked with a smile as he ran his forearm along his sweaty face. "Not that I mind one bit." He was about to ask if you were done with dinner, but then he realized that you were crying. The sweat on his skin turned ice cold as he quickly asked, "What's wrong?"

"Roo," you wailed, and he started looking around the garage as if there was something out here that would help both of you calm down. "He ruined my fucking dinner!" you sobbed.

"What are you talking about?" he asked as he paced the length of the garage, running his fingers through his damp hair. "Who ruined it?"

"Commander Patterson."

Bradley honestly could not fathom how that guy had ruined your dinner. All he knew was that you told him you were horny as hell when you got to the restaurant, and that he didn't trust guys he didn't know around you. Most men were disgusting, and you were lovely and also pregnant with his child.

"Can you explain what happened so I can understand?" he asked as calmly as he could.

"Yeah," you sniffed, and he heard a car engine start up in the background. "The nugget and I were both really enjoying the food. Like really enjoying it, Bradley. You know how I've been, and this was delectable and exactly what we both wanted. Like it was so good, if you'd been there with me looking super sexy, I would have probably had an orgasm in the middle of the damn restaurant."

Bradley swallowed hard as he stood in the garage, wondering where the hell this was going. "I understand. You haven't been able to eat much, so that must have felt amazing. Now can you tell me what's wrong?"

"He ruined it!" you replied loudly. "He lied to me! There were no admirals planning on joining us. He tricked me into meeting him there, and then he gave me fake compliments and accolades about my work. He told me that I could get ahead with a career in Annapolis if I slept with him, all because he wanted to fuck me!"

Bradley almost dropped his phone. "Did he touch you?" he growled, switching to speaker phone as he rushed through the backyard toward the house and looked for flights to Maryland at the same time. "Did he fucking touch you?!"

"No!" you practically shrieked. "No, he didn't touch me! You think I'd let him get anywhere near me after he ruined my dinner?"

"Where are you now?" he demanded. "And what's this Commander fucking Patterson's first name?" 

Bradley was seeing red as he walked inside and slammed the sliding glass door behind him, and Tramp ran whimpering into the spare room. The earliest he could get out of San Diego on an eastbound flight was a red eye that left at 9:30, and that was nearly four hours from now.

"I'm not telling you his name," you said softly with a little sniff at the end. "I'm afraid you'll strangle him."

Frankly, if Bradley got his hands on the asshole, he'd probably wish all he got was strangled to death. "Where are you now?" he asked again, trying to keep his voice calmer.

"In my rental car."

"Alone?

"Yes!"

"Good," he replied as he clenched and unclenched his fist and headed for the shower. "Go back to your hotel room, and text me the address. I'll stay on the phone with you until you get there, and then I'll be out on a red eye that lands in Annapolis at 5:55 tomorrow morning local time. And then you'll tell me his first name, and I'll beat the shit out of him for ruining your dinner and acting like my wife is his for the taking."

"Bradley," you said firmly. "I do not need you to come out here. I already feel better now that I told you about it."

"Well, I sure as fucking hell don't," he grunted, peeling off his sweaty clothes in the bathroom. "Does he know which hotel you're staying at? And where the hell is Cat?"

You groaned and said, "No, he doesn't know. And Cat went to the actual cocktail reception with the actual admirals. I seriously hate Commander Patterson. But I did steal his dinner, so that's making me feel a little bit better."

His thumb was hovering over his phone screen, ready to purchase a seat on this flight. "Wait, you stole his dinner?"

"Yes. I took it. When I tell you the food was that good, Bradley, I am not joking. I housed most of the appetizers and the bread basket, and then I took his plate before he even got a bite of his porterhouse. I dumped all of the food into takeout boxes, took some silverware, told the waitress he'd pay for everything, and then I left."

Bradley burst into laughter in spite of himself. He could actually picture it so clearly. The haughty expression on your face. Your biting wit once you figured out what was going on. The way you must have looked dumping the steaks into the containers. "You're a damn force to be reckoned with, Baby Girl. Are you driving back to the hotel with all the food?"

"Yeah. I mean I did eat a few bites when I first got back in the car, because the baby was demanding it, but I'm absolutely going to eat the rest in my room. Fuck that guy. He doesn't even deserve his overpriced steak. It's mine now."

Bradley cradled his forehead in his hand and laughed. "Do you really not need me to come out there?"

He heard you take a deep breath before you said, "I miss you a lot, but I really do not need you to come out, okay? The nugget and I are fine now, ruined dinner aside."

"Alright," he murmured. "If you change your mind, you have two hours to let me know, and I'll be knocking on your door by 7 in the morning."

You moaned and whispered, "God, that does sound good. I'm back at the hotel. Heading up to my room now. Any chance you feel like having phone sex before I eat my two steaks and roughly four pounds of potatoes?"

"Fuck," he grunted, his cock already getting hard as he looked down at himself. "Yeah. A hundred percent. Let me just get in the shower here."

"Okay, Daddy," you muttered, and Bradley was practically tripping over himself as he started up the spray of water. Once you were safely inside your room, you told him, "I'm ready when you are."

-------------------------

You got off twice to your vibrator and your husband's sexy voice. It was so easy to imagine him in the shower with the sound of the water in the background. You could picture the steam snaking around his body while he held his thick cock in his hand. You could practically taste his skin and smell the body wash he was definitely using as lube. 

"That's my sweet girl," he crooned as you started to peak for the second time. "When I get you home on Friday, my mouth is going to be all over that pussy. I miss you so much. I want my wife and my baby with me."

"Bradley," you whined, legs bent and shaking as you got closer. "I need you to fuck me. I'm so goddamn horny for you!"

He grunted right into the phone and said, "Keep it up, and I'll break your new car at the airport, too."

And then you came. Hard. Your chest was sweaty. Your back was arching off the bed. The vibrator rolled out of your grasp, and you stroked yourself with your fingers and whispered his name over and over. 

"I'm about to come," Bradley moaned. And you could hear the exact second he was probably making a white mess all over the tile wall. You imagined it on your belly instead. 

You just wanted to go home, and when your back finally settled against the bedding you said, "I need you to promise to fuck me at least twenty times between Friday night and Monday morning."

"Make it thirty, Sweetheart," he crooned as he panted. "At least. I fucking need it, too."

You turned your head to the side where a photo of him was still pulled up on your phone. "Sounds perfect. Don't forget, I'm having dinner with my mom and dad tomorrow, so please FaceTime when you're walking out of work if you can."

"For the love of all things holy, please don't talk about your parents when I'm still holding my cock."

You giggled, and then he laughed. "I won't do it again," you promised as you sat up in bed, eyeing the takeout containers on the desk. "I love you, Roo. I'm going to eat Derek Patteron's steak, take a shower, and then pass out."

"I love you too, Baby Girl. Can you put your phone down by your belly?"

"Mmhmm," you hummed, pressing your lips together to keep from squealing at how sweet this man was.

"And I love you, too, my little nugget. Be nice to Mommy."

---------------------------

BG is all over the place... Roo probably has whiplash. Derek should be punished for ruining that meal for her and the baby. Just a few chapters left, and we'll have another series for them in the books! Thanks for reading! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 34

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[semisgroupie]

a test of faith

devil!taiju x nun!fem. reader

word count: 3.8k

warnings: HEAVILY sacrilegious, corruption kink, virginity loss, size kink, unprotected sex, creampie, blasphemy, monsterfucking (he has horns and black wings), deception, oral sex (f!receiving), dumbification, possessive taiju, mutual pining (kinda), mention of breeding, masturbation, denied orgasms, blood

synopsis: you have been warned of the devil and the many shapes he may take, why didn’t you heed the warnings?

a/n: this is another submission for my heaven and hell collab!

“The devil comes in all shapes and forms and will do anything to make you sin.”

It was what you heard all the time, whether it was in passing in the convent or during mass. You could never avoid it, at this point it was practically ingrained in your head. You always had to stay on the lookout for any tricks by the devil, especially since you just became a nun.

You have been involved in the church since you were born and it was only natural for God to lead you on the path of being a nun. The issue was that you were young. Just 22, you have your whole life ahead of you, so much to explore, to see, to do but here you were. Most of the other nuns in the convent had decades of experience or they experienced life a little before dedicating their life to God. It was hard for you to ignore the little whispers, the side eye looks and the worrying glances as you walked past.

They had their doubts about you, they weren’t sure if you would be able to stay on the righteous path, to live a life without sin. At first it was something you could just overlook, it didn’t mean anything to you and didn’t weigh on you but after a few months of the whispers and glances it all became too much. No matter how many times you prayed for the strength to ignore it all or just the courage to actually confront them it was all unheard.

Then came your saving grace in the form of the new priest, Father Taiju Shiba.

You had no clue where he came from, no one did to be honest. It was like he appeared out of thin air. You just took this as a sign that God was listening to you, that God was putting an end to all your suffering. He had a very unique look to him that scared you at first, you weren’t too sure if it was his piercing yellow eyes that burned into you every time he made eye contact with you, his menacing smile that made him look like he could eat you alive or his size, a man that practically rivaled a giant and filled out his cassock completely. But once he opened his mouth you were hooked in.

His sermons were like no other, it was like he wrote the holy book himself. He had you hooked on every single word, his booming voice was like hearing God himself speak. It scared you how you felt when he spoke but you wanted—no—needed to hear more. So you would go to visit him after mass just to talk to him. It felt good to have someone to talk to, to just empty your heart out to someone. He knew everything about you over the course of a month, your likes, your dislikes, what makes you happy, but most importantly, your doubts and insecurities.

Your biggest one was whether or not being a nun was right for you. Yes you loved the church and that was all you knew but you were also aware of all you could do at your young age, how the world was just waiting to be explored by you but here you were, just stuck. You also had to deal with the temptations that surrounded you, there were many young men that caught your eye and in another life you could’ve seen something happening with them.

Still, as you voiced these insecurities Taiju was there offering a warm embrace or a shoulder for you to cry on. You grew so close to him and you couldn’t avoid the feelings that began to brew. There was no way you could ignore the way your heart skipped a beat whenever he threw a smile your way or the heat that spread across your face whenever he complimented you and there was definitely no way you could ignore the throbbing between your thighs whenever he placed a gentle hand on your knee or how husky his voice sounded whenever he whispered a joke in your ear. But you had to push them all aside, well push them away until you were in the privacy of your own room in the convent. You knew what masturbation was so your hand would often snake down between your slick thighs and toy with your swollen clit as you recollected the events with Taiju. Your mind would wander to how he looked without anything on, how his muscles would flex as he held your hips and drove his cock into you. But just as you would reach the peak of your orgasm you would pull your hand away and push away those lustful thoughts. He was a man of the cloth and you were a nun. You had to push those sinful thoughts away and focus on your one and only mission of serving and declaring your love to God.

But soon it all became too much. During mass you would have to press your thighs together and bite down on your lip to hide a whimper that would threaten to escape whenever Taiju would make eye contact with you during mass. You needed to do something to get rid of these thoughts, you needed anything to stop yourself from committing a sin. So after mass you followed Taiju closely.

“Yes Sister? Is something troubling you?”

His deep voice rumbled through the hall and added to the growing burning sensation in the pit of your stomach. You looked up at him, meeting his eyes and sighed. “Yes Father, I know it is too early for my monthly confession but something is troubling me deeply.”

“Of course Sister, come with me.”

He placed his hand on your back and ushered you to walk in front of him. As you two were walking your eyebrows furrowed, “Father? This isn’t the way to the confessional booth.”

If only you could see the smirk that grew on his face at your little observation, “I know Sister, we’re heading to my quarters because Father Jacobs will be using it for some of our parishioners. Since this is an urgent matter I will take you to the only available place which is my quarters and please call me Taiju. I hope you consider me a friend so I completely insist on you addressing me by my name.”

You nodded and continued to let him lead you there, letting out a little mumble of his name. If only you could listen to God screaming at you to turn back, warning you that you were about to enter the lion’s den. That this ‘savior’ was actually the man you had to look out for. That this was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. But it was too late, once Taiji closed the door to his room your fate was sealed. You were blinded by emotions and these emotions were going to lead to your downfall. You were now Eve and the serpent was right at your ear, urging you to take a bite of the forbidden fruit and you were starving.

He pulled two chairs from his desk and put their backs facing each other, he sat down with you and sucked in a deep breath. He finally had you where he wanted you, he finally had his chance with the symbol of innocence and naivety. “You may begin.”

You gripped the rosary around your neck and pressed it against your lips, “Bless me Father for I have sinned, it has been two weeks since my last confession. Since then I have committed the worst sin, I have had lustful thoughts.”

Taiju had to bite back his laughter and smoothed his hand over his face, “have you acted on these thoughts?”

“No Father, well not with the person I have thought of but I have pleased myself to the thought of him and right before I could orgasm I would stop myself and pray. But now these thoughts have been occurring more often and have even occurred during mass. I-I’m so sorry, I need to repent, I need to stop these thoughts.”

He was practically itching to react but he had to keep this facade just a little longer, he couldn’t reveal himself just yet. He needed to toy with you just a bit longer. “Sister, to truly be forgiven you must explain these thoughts or our Lord and Savior cannot save you.”

The heat rushed to your face as you opened your mouth to speak, “I have thought about you Father T–I mean Taiju. I have thought about you intimately and thought about you touching me and revealing yourself entirely to me. I have imagined your body and thought of things only sinners do, especially the act of fornication.”

Those were the words he needed to hear, he needed to hear this before he could put his plan into action. He stood up, pushed the chair out of the way and leaned down to your ear while resting his hands on your shoulder. “Sister, you are adorable. I mean, you are the sweetest little fruit and I have been dying to take a bite.”

Your eyes widened and a breath hitched in your throat at his words. You were rendered speechless, there was no way that he was saying this to you. It’s impossible, it was the devil playing tricks on your mind. Taiju’s grip tightened on your shoulders as he moved to your opposite ear, “do you want to see a little trick? I think you’ll love it.”

He moved from behind you and walked in front of you, dropping his cassock and the sight in front of you made you freeze. Black wings sprouted from his back and black horns adorned the top of his head. You gripped your rosary tighter, tight enough to make yourself bleed.

“W-What a-are you?”

Your cute question made him erupt into laughter, “do you remember what I always say during my sermons? Actually I’ll remind you, ‘dear children of the Lord, you need to keep an eye out for the Devil for he can take many shapes and forms and lead you into temptation.’ Ringing any bells?”

You didn’t know how to reply so you only did what you knew best; you prayed. “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me—”

“Can you shut the fuck up? You really think that shit will stop me? Oh let me guess, you think God will come down and damn me to hell again? That shit you call Holy Water is like regular drinking water to me, I didn’t burn up once I stepped foot into a church, that shit means nothing to me little girl.” He kneeled down and looked into your eyes, making sure to grip your small cheeks in his large hand to make you keep eye contact. “If your God was here, why didn’t he stop me earlier? Why didn’t he stop me? Why hasn’t he stopped me?”

He moved his hand from your face and ripped your tunic down the middle then tore your veil and coif off your head, “I’ll leave the rosary on you, makes it hotter. And don’t look so scared, isn’t this what you wanted? Didn’t you want me to do this to you? Didn’t you want me to take you as my own?”

Your mouth opened to protest but everything he said was true, you wanted him like this. He pulled you up and shed the rest of your tunic off of you, leaving you only in your bra and panties. He chuckled at the small wet patch that grew on your panties, almost making the white cotton material see through. “How cute, white. Nice and pure, just like you.”

Your mouth grew dry, you could’ve ran but it was like your feet were cemented to the floor and the throbbing in between your legs grew. You were petrified of the beast in front of you but despite the horns and black wings it was still Taiju, the Taiju you fell in love with.

He gripped your face again and forced you to make eye contact again. “Tell me what you want, if you want this. Look I may be the Devil but I’m not the monster everyone makes me out to be. I like chaos and I was an angel, God’s favorite to be specific then I caused a little too much trouble and got sent downstairs.”

You collected whatever saliva was in your mouth and swallowed deeply, “I-I want you Taiju, I want you.” His plan worked perfectly, taking advantage of your inexperience and naivety and leading you to this point. He leaned down and placed his lips against yours, sealing your fate for eternity. He kissed you hungrily and gripped every inch of skin he could touch, his touch on your skin was burning hot, like fire was burning under your skin and as he broke the kiss and began kissing along every opening of skin, you grew hotter. His hands groped at you and ripped off the remaining garments that shielded your completely naked body from his view.

“What a sweet little body, just perfect for me to taint and ruin. Do you know how long it has been since I had a virgin like you? Too fucking long.” He lifted you and dropped you onto the small bed with a thud and held your legs open as he stared at your pussy. Your chest rose and fell with every passing second, “p-please stop staring Taiju.”

“No, no, no little girl. You don’t get to make demands and I’ll only tell you this once. The only things I want to hear from your pretty mouth are moans of my name. Got it?” You nodded and gripped the sheets underneath you as he leaned in close and started lapping at your pussy. He didn’t even give you time to get adjusted to the foreign feeling on his tongue, he just lapped, nipped and sucked at your swollen clit before dipping his tongue into your awaiting hole. Moans of his name became your new prayer and he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to how the man upstairs was reacting. Watching one of his little nuns get defiled by his mortal enemy.

Just the thought of the repulsion God must feel made Taiju’s cock throb. He lapped at your pussy more fervently, you tasted so sweet on his tongue, like you were the most succulent fruit on the tree. Maybe you were his forbidden fruit. Your moans and whimpers turned into cries and pleads and your hands flew from the sheets to his horns as he sucked on your clit harshly, his golden eyes burning through you as you became even more wrapped in the pleasure. He held your hips down with his arm and circled your entrance with his large middle finger, threatening to dip it inside but never doing so.

“Taiju! So good! It feels too good, I’ve never felt any better!” You tried bucking your hips against his face and your cries grew even higher in pitch, everything about you became more desperate and he knew that just meant you were going to cum. Hell, you were going to cum for the first time and it was for the man you swore to protect people from. Only if the parishioners of the church knew what the sweet, young nun was up to now. As your thighs started shaking and you gripped his horns tighter he shoved two fingers inside you and pressed them right against your g spot.

A mind numbing feeling washed over your body as you experienced your first orgasm, your vision and mind went blank as he continued his brutal assault on your swollen and sensitive cunt. Your little body shook as the aftershocks of your orgasm traveled through your body and once you stopped pulsing around his fingers he pulled them out of you and stood with one final kiss to your sensitive clit. He pulled his briefs down and as you blinked your vision back your eye practically popped out of your head at the size of his cock. It was extremely thick and too long, as he stood you could see how heavy it was, how it threatened to drop down completely as he stood in front of you.

“See, I would do more to make it hurt less but with how small you are compared to me nothing will help. So, just take a deep breath and if you cry, make sure you keep looking at me. I fucking love tears.”

He hooked his hands at the backs of your knees to lift them to your chest and he shoved his cock inside you, a loud scream of his name ripped through you and he leaned down to place his mouth on yours to shut you up. He was going to have his fun and if you were too loud then he had to do whatever it took to keep you quiet. He shoved his tongue in your mouth to kiss you deeply while he bottomed out inside you. Your warm walls were massaging his cock as he rested against you.

You whined and dug your nails into his arms as you adjusted to his cock, it was so big and you felt like you were going to be split in half if he moved more. It was just so much for you and tears spilled from your eyes at the pain of the stretch. He broke the kiss after a few minutes and rested his forehead against yours, “can I move?” He watched you take a few deep breaths to try to prepare yourself for what was to come and you nodded. “Yes Taiju.”

He smirked and nodded, using the grip he has on your legs to lift himself a bit and he began drilling his cock into you. The tip of his cock bullied your g spot and cervix. His heavy balls slapped against your ass roughly with each thrust. More tears spilled from your eyes but this time it was more tears of pleasure than pain. You tried to keep your eyes on him as he slammed his cock into you over and over, loud slapping of skin and your cries of pleasure filled the room. If anyone were to walk by then they would immediately know what was going on. They would know that you were breaking your oath of celibacy and you were giving your sacred virginity away. He lifted your legs even higher and it was like you sucked him in even deeper, you were heaven and maybe if this was what was guaranteed for those living holy lives then he would turn a new leaf immediately and start doing good. Just as long as he could keep sinking his cock deep inside your pretty cunt.

Your eyes rolled back and your body grew even more limp as he kept pounding into you, just ripping orgasm after orgasm out of you. More tears fell from your eyes and he leaned down to lick them off your face. “Fuck how do your tears taste sweet?” He got even more convinced to believe that you were his forbidden fruit, maybe after he fucked you his wings would turn white and the horns on his head would be replaced by a pretty halo, the same halo he had when he was an angel. You on the other hand, were too fucked out to answer, just babbling his name and little praises that were sometimes incoherent.

He started putting more of his weight on you as he started feeling his own orgasm approach. The heavy thrusts paired with his weight were now leaving you breathless. “I’m gonna pump you full of my cum, I’m gonna keep pumping you full of my cum every single time I fuck you. Imagine God’s face as he watches me pump you full of my potent seed. The shocked expression that probably paints his face, the things I’d do to see that.”

“O-Oh God, pump me f-full”, you babbled out his words, just mindlessly repeating him as his thrusts got rougher and faster. His large body practically hides yours underneath him, if it weren’t for your cries then it would have looked like he was the only one there. “That’s it little girl, call out to your God. Maybe I’ll help you.”

He looked up and a smirk grew on his face, “you see this you bastard?! Do you see me defiling one of your innocent angels on earth? She’s all mine now! Mine to play with, mine to fuck, mine to breed and mine to keep. You fucking hear me? I’m keeping her! Because I’m here, I’ve been here, this whole fucking time! I’ve heard her pleas! I’ve heard her prayers and where were you? You hypocritical fuck!” As he finished his tirade he slammed his hips against yours and bottomed out as he began filling you with cum. It was thick and heavy and even though he was bottomed out inside you cum began leaking out.

He let go of the backs of your thighs to let them drop and he held you close as he flipped the both of you over, so he was on his back and you were on top of him. “I mean what I said, you’re mine now. I can’t take you back to hell with me yet because he’ll send an angel on a fucking rescue mission to take you to heaven so we’re staying here together. I’ll keep this priest role and you could stay the sweet and innocent nun but just know every night you’re coming here and I’m fucking you senseless again.”

He’s fucked humans before but even his own words surprised him, he’s never been so possessive of one. Maybe it was the time you two have spent together or maybe it was the fact he’s spent so much time on earth but as you rested on his chest with a smile on your face, all he knew was that he wanted to keep you close and never let you go. He wasn’t gonna let you go, you were going to stick to his side for the rest of eternity, he’ll make sure of it. He’ll fight heaven and earth if need be but now all he did was press a few kisses to your sweaty forehead and covered your naked body with his wings.

“Get your rest, little nun.”

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[hrefna-the-raven]

The handsome "Not Jack"-pot

While you're all waiting for more Travis stories, please find below an older story I wrote after playing Borderlands 3. Timtam needs some love too ;)

Words:998

Originally published in 2020 on AO3

The handsome "Not Jack"-pot

With a metallic thud and a creak the heavy yellow door of the small cot opened and someone stormed outside, one hand thrown defensively in the air while the other one removed the Hyperion yellow hood that covered the face.

“No, no, no, no, don’t shoot!”, a trembling voice begged, “this is not what it looks like!”

That voice…it sounded so familiar, you were unable to pin it down immediately but you instinctively lowered your weapon.

“I am NOT Jack!”, the person continued, finally revealing his face, “not at all…”

A set of beautiful eyes, a blue and a green one, stared tremulously at yours. The dark brown hair, with one large grey strand, was a mess and the face was grafted with a seemingly identical mask. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight. Roughly ten year after leaving Elpis, you’ve only seen that face on propagandistic posters and threatening ECHO messages. The very last time you had seen it in its original form, if you could even call it like that since it was another man’s looks implanted on him, was when Athena grabbed the collar of your jacket and tore you out of the vault, away from Jack and his doppelganger.

“My name is just-“

“Timothy”, you interrupted him, "Timothy Lawrence."

It was the moment his perplexed gaze lingered longer on you as expected when you finally realised that you were still standing there in full armor, helmet covering every possibility for him to recognise you. You clicked the button on the side of it and the visor sprang up. Timothy's eyes widened, your soft facial contours, that plushed sweet lips and those dark eyes in which he lost himself countless times while his hand caressed your smooth hair. He gulped, hands now shaking uncontrollably and his voice trembling as he breathed your name, still with a hint of doubt. He was locked up and hunted in this blasted casino for so many years, his mind might just as well play tricks and the one person he always longed for was not standing there but was a mere illusion, an infallible sign that loneliness finally broke him. In addition to this, it just couldn’t be you, Jack boasted with having tied up all the loose ends prior to his time as head of Hyperion, he never mentioned specifically killing you, but knowing his former megalomaniac boss, it was highly probable.

“You...you're real, rrrrright? I mean like you’re standing there, physically, not imaginary…cupcake?”

There it was, the way Jack spoke, how he rolled the “r” and stretched out the last part of word, paired with Timothy's adorable insecurity. You nodded, your lips forming a broad smile before you jumped at him, hugging him as tight as you could without crushing him. Timothy pressed his nose into your hair, inhaling deeply all of you as he wanted to breath in all the lost years at once as tears formed in the corners of his eyes. He still was a prisoner in this awful casino, but with you in his arms, he suddenly felt...good, calm, in a way he felt as he finally arrived at a placid home after an eternity of unrest, pain, torture and devouring fears. Shots in a distance broke your silent reunion, your heads got up in a sudden panic, scanning around for potential enemies. Even outside Pandora, it was hard up to nearly impossible to have a few minutes of non-threatening quiet. Timothy grabbed your hand and dragged you hurriedly behind him. He abruptly stopped at a strange device on a wall, two corners away, shoved his face against the lens, swearing under his breath. After a few seconds and a quick beeping noise, the wall slid aside, revealing some kind of large half empty storage room you were pushed inside before the wall closed again.

“Welcome to the casa de Timothy”, he waved his hands around, smiling like a child in a sweet shop.

You giggled at his gleeful childishness. While hunting the vault and defending against the invading Dahl forces on Elpis, you could always count on Timothy to keep you smiling. His sweet and innocent soul that felt out of place in the reality you were forced to reside in was what made him most precious, a rare jewel of kindness in a world that was rotten to its core. Your helmet and weapon dropped with a loud clunk to the floor, only two seconds before you threw yourself into his arms, sobbing with your face pressed on his chest.

“I missed you”, you blubbered out, “you don't know how much I missed you.”

Streams of tears ran down your cheeks, they emerged from an ineffable joy, locked up for almost an eternity and not to be stopped by anything. All your emotions broke loose, flooding the moment, overwhelming both of you as his tears joined yours. He squeezed you as hard as he was able to, not planning on letting you any time soon, hell, if he would never ever get away from this place he would at least be stuck here with you in his arms. He grabbed your chin, pulled your head up a bit and gazed deeply into your eyes.

“I love you, pumpkin. I survived hell, no matter what he did or told to me, I kept going, never knowing why, but now”, his voice broke off for a moment as he struggled to remain calm, “having you here in this hell with me, I finally realise why I could never give up, I knew we would find each other again someday, just like we found each other on Elpis ten years again.”

“I saw right through your act”, you gently mocked.

“And you didn't even know Jack at that time”, he replied amused, “I wonder how bad I actually must be as his body double.”

“Fortunately you're no use as mimicking Jack”, you cackled, finally pressing your lips on his.

[bloodsaltedsshifting]

hearing his name come dripping from castiel's lips in that tone? sends a ripple of goosebumps cascading down dean's lightly freckled shoulders towards that scar and and then down his back and spine. it makes him moan a hot, open-mouthed breath over the ridge of castiel's hip. his tongue's still out when his head's lulled back and it moves freely. like he's drunk on the moment. languid gaze blinking open with dumbstruck eyes staring up at the being standing in front of him as if he's the most precious, all consuming thing that exists in the world. dean's lost in the moment. and he doesn't care to be this gone.

trust. that's why. trust doesn't come easy for him. even in moments like this. to completely yield himself over? that takes a minute. there's always a small whisper of doubt in the back of his mind. that it could mean danger for an innocent bystander to be this close to him. or the person could easily be ready to slam a knife in his back if he fell for a trick without thinking with the head on his shoulders. or that the moment he leaves them alone? he's left them with a death sentence having left a mark on them for someone who wants to get even with him to do it via hurting someone he might care about. yeah. there's a lot of fun in the things he does. the women he's been with. the casual ones. but there's always that smidgen of the fact that he always has to be not just dean. DEAN WINCHESTER while being with anyone..

..not just dean. and in this moment? that's exactly who he is. dean. that name that keeps coming on repeat from castiel. that's who he is. mouth parts as cas's thumb drags over it. he's told he's beautiful and all he can do is smile against the digit pressing onto swollen flesh. it's a look that says so are you without him having to say anything at all. he couldn't speak if he tried. cause he's watching, awestruck as cas climbs onto his lap and holds his face. he feels how they press against each other in this closeness and he can't help his brows pinching together as a moan slips out and he flashes a look down--not quite able to see much beyond cas's hands but he can imagine--and feel it and his heart skips several beats as he pushes up and rides against the grazes and friction that happens each time they touch. stiff and warm and, "cas.. cas that feels so good," his hand moves next and his fingers--hands that have steadily taken life after life in the name of keeping those he love safe or vengeance or reasons that weren't even his, now tremble until the grip that he has on cas's length steadies it. his thumb circles the head as he squeezes and strokes his entire length sacrificing the touch against himself to exploratively learn what cas feels like..

"fuck, i.." he whimpers against those lips, staring deep into cas's eyes as if searching for approval. "...cas.."

                             "DEAN, DEAN—" He feels like babbling but he also doesn't know what to say except the hunter's name over and over again as he watches in fascination and lust as Dean kisses and licks his way across Castiel's body. It tickles sometimes when his stubble drags over a sensitive part of his skin, but it mostly just makes him feel hotter and hotter, a flush slowly forming on his cheeks that spreads down to his chest. 

                             The downside of this position is that he can only see the crown of Dean's head and the tip of his nose; but his face is so pretty, his eyes so spellbinding, and so Castiel gingerly cradles Dean's skull and pulls him back a little, tilting his head up so he can look at his face and the blush on his cheeks and the pupils that are blown wide. His thumb drags over the hunter's kiss-swollen lips. "You are beautiful, Dean," he tells him solemnly before he leans down to catch his mouth for another deep kiss. 

                                It's a little awkward to stand bent over like this after a short time, so Castiel decides to straddle Dean's thighs and sit in his lap, his knees resting snugly next to Dean's hips on the mattress. That's better because now they're at the same height again and their erections are closer, too, so Castiel can press in a little, roll his hips in a way that makes them bob against each other now and then, which startles a little ecstatic gasp out of him every time because it feels so good. "Dean," he pants against the other's mouth, still cradling his face very gently with both hands. 

[grewlikefancyflowers]

ok after seeing that aristocats post this morning i couldn't get the idea of wwx making flowers rain down on lwj out of my head. soooo, cloud recesses study arc, 800 words of some silly little teenage wx fluff

Just as Wei Wuxian is about to head back up the path to the Cloud Recesses, he sees someone a little way in the distance. Though the disciple wears the same plain white robes as everyone else, from his cold and indifferent expression, Wei Wuxian knows without a doubt that this is Lan Wangji!!

Quickly, he steps back behind a tree, and after a moment of thought, climbs right up it. He's had plenty of experience in the art of tree climbing; it's a matter of seconds before he's perched neatly on a branch, not a single leaf rustled or twig snapped in the process. Out of sight, this is the perfect vantage point to play a trick on Lan Zhan!!

Wei Wuxian runs through his options. He could leap down right in front of Lan Wangji as he walks by to make him jump. Or, it might be fun to call out to him from his hiding spot, see if he could recognise his voice from only a few words. If he did, then it was a great thing to tease him about! And if he didn't, then Wei Wuxian could call out all sorts of silly things, soften his voice and pretend to be a shy maiden bestowing praise upon her crush. He muffles his laughter into his arm.

But, as Lan Wangji gets closer, Wei Wuxian's laughter catches in his throat.

The branch he rests atop is dusted with small, pink plum blossoms, fanning out across the path. Peeping through them, he leans forward to get a better look. Rather than his usual frosty disposition, right now there's something delicately peaceful about Lan Wangji. His robes, bright as moonlight, flutter slightly in the breeze, as does his ribbon, dancing down his gleaming black hair. Without the usual cold glare directed at him, he looks as pretty as a scene painted on silk. Wei Wuxian can only think that it's a shame he must look from all the way up here, twisting branches blocking his view.

For a moment, the breeze picks up, making the branch shiver. One of its blooms quivers on its bud, until the breeze carries it away.

Wei Wuxian watches it with mischief in his heart. He rocks on his branch, shaking it until it begins to let loose it's petals and flowers.

Lan Wangji's steps do not falter as a few plum blossoms float by him, but as the pink flowers begin to snow down, he pauses, eyes narrowing.

"Wei Ying."

Grinning, Wei Wuxian hops down in front of him, giving one final kick to the branch as he goes. The flowers continue to float down, and Wei Wuxian only thinks the sight is even more splendid to behold from the ground. Lan Wangji, however, looks starkly disapproving, brushing the petals off his shoulder with an irritated flick of his hand.

Wei Wuxian is unable to contain his laughter. His shoulder shake as he tries to rein it in, composing himself and brushing his hair out his face. He twirls a strand around his finger. "How did you know it was me?"

Lan Wangji's tone is indifferent, "Who else?"

Wei Wuxian pokes his tongue out, "Right, who else would do such a frivolous thing?"

Lan Wangji turns his sight away from Wei Wuxian, as if he cannot bear to look upon such a silly expression. After a moment, he continues walking, saying, "You should not climb trees."

Wei Wuxian skips after him, "Why not? I have never seen 'do not climb trees' on the wall of rules."

"Improper behaviour. If you fell, you could be hurt."

Wei Wuxian snorts before he can stop himself. Yet, he also feels a slight pang of regret. Instead of deftly jumping out the tree, he should have pretended to fall. Then he could have whined that he was terribly injured and trick Lan Zhan into carrying him back!!! Only so that he could laugh at the face Lan Wangji would make when he would leap out his arms at the entrance, clearly unhurt and able to walk. He smiles at the thought, but hides it when Lan Wangji shoots him a suspicious look.

Suddenly, a spot of pink catches his sight, a flower still clinging to Lan Wangji's hair. Without thinking twice, he reaches up to grab it. But before his fingertips can touch its delicate petals, he's stopped short by a cold iron grip around his wrist.

He puts on an innocent expression, "Lan Zhan, why are you walking around with a flower stuck in your hair? How silly, let me get it out for you."

Lan Wangji glowers at his nonsense words, taking a step away as he catches the flower between his own fingers, taking it out himself.

They walk together back to the Cloud Recesses, Wei Wuxian's unrestrained laughter filling the air. Preoccupied with his own amusement, he does not notice a thing as Lan Wangji quietly tucks the plum blossom safely away inside his sleeve.