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jazziejax · 5 days ago

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𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐥𝐲

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - F1!Damson Idris x Black! OC

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - Famous formula one driver flirts with the girl of his dreams and she, not much to his surprise, flirts back. Their connection is apparent and palpable. Only thing is, she’s the daughter of his team principal and already dating his rival.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - banter, flirting, cheating(??), sneaky

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - I wanted to write something for Damson but all my Franklin Saint stories require more time so here’s something short and sweet. And will probably turn in to something more…..also, DAMSON IDRIS NEEDS MORE ATTENTION ON THIS APP!!!( Also, the OC’s name is pronounced NO-EM-IE)

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 1,863+

The paddock buzzed with energy under the sweltering sun. Engines roared in the background as mechanics swarmed around the cars, each tweak and adjustment critical. Cameras flashed, fans screamed, and the unmistakable tension of race day hung in the air.

Damson leaned casually against the side of his team's hospitality unit, dressed in his racing suit, the sleeves tied around his waist, every inch the confident driver ready to conquer the track. Sunglasses were perched on his face, his easy charm and magnetic smile made heads turn as he conversed with his team. His effortless charm couldn’t help but rub off onto her, he had it all—the speed, the talent, the fame—it made him an easygoing man. He had the things others craved even a morsel for. But what he loved most was the thrill of winning, both on and off the track. Though, as great as life was, the thrill off the track hasn’t been as fulfilling.

That’s when he saw her, Noémie Adebayo. She was a vision to those who watched in person and online, her fresh blowout swaying in the wind of the Saudi Arabian Air. Her white cotton set swayed as well, the wind giving her an angelic look as she strutted in, turning heads in the paddock. Noémie was as much a fixture in the paddock as the cars themselves. With her sharp wit and effortless style, she had a way of commanding attention without even trying. She was standing near her father, exchanging pleasantries with sponsors, but her laugh carried above the din, catching Damson’s ear like a siren’s call. Her laugh was light, carefree, and cut through the chaos that was F1.

He shouldn’t have looked at her the way he did. Noémie wasn’t just off-limits—she was untouchable. She was dating Nico Valdez, Griffin Motors’ golden boy and Damson’s fiercest rival on the track. She was also the only daughter of Antoine Adebayo, the team principal of APEX. His team. But rules, Damson always thought, were made to be broken. It’s why he was a champion now.

She caught his gaze, her dark-colored eyes shining as they locked with his for a moment too long. A smile curled at the corner of her lips as she turned back to the conversation she was having with her father.

"Careful, Idris," came a voice beside him. "You’re staring."

Damson glanced at his teammate, the brown woman was smirking at him as she adjusted the tool in her hands, coming from the pit crew.

"I’m just admiring the competition," Damson replied smoothly, his eyes still locked on Noémie as she tucked her blowing hair behind her ear. Simone furrowed her brows at him, eyes bouncing over to said woman.

"Competition? She’s not on the track, mate."

Damson smirked. "No, but she’s in the way."

He then pushed off the wall, his movements deliberate as he crossed the garage toward her. As he approached, Noémie turned, her eyes catching his. She didn’t look surprised—she never did.

"Noémie," he said, his voice low and smooth. "Always a pleasure." He said with a soft smile.

“It always is, to see you Damson,” Noémie said, her voice as smooth as silk, as if it exited her glossed lips and grazed against his skin. He hummed, his arms behind his back as he looked down at his kids at her. "Looking radiant as ever. You come here to cheer me on today?” He quipped, watching as an amused smile broke out into her lips that parted in a feigned gasp. "Cheer you on? I think you’re at the wrong paddock, Idris, my dear. Nico Valdez doesn’t take fans from last-place teams." Her jab was sharp, but the teasing tone in her voice gave her away.

"Last place?" He stepped closer, just enough to make her feel the heat of his presence. "You must not be paying attention then, love. You might want to focus less on your boyfriend and more on the man who’s going to leave him eating dust." He smirked before giving a small tilt of his head, his eyes drifting over her face. “A man who’s more worthy of your attention.” He added.

Noémie tilted her head, letting out a small gasp. “Damson!” She said, and her movements were as quick as light, her purse moving from one hand into the other so she could softly jab his covered shoulder. “That was rather sly of you.” She accused, looking up at him with a small smirk, her eyes glinting in the stadium lights. Although he could tell she was purely amused but his quips. “Cheeky.”

“You have to be in a game like this, darlin’.” He said, bringing his arm from behind his back and gesturing it towards the tracks that weren’t that far away from them. “How do you think I’ve been winning this long?”

“Talent.” She didn’t hesitate, her gaze not wavering from his as she tilted her head up at him. Damson’s mind halted, as well as his heart as he gaped down at her. She’d never know how the simplest of words uttered from her lips made him feel, even the mere sound of his name had him almost asking her if she could say it again, directly in his ear so he’d never forget the sound when they spent time away. And now, she’d just admitted what she thought of his profession—his career—and he didn’t think winning any race could make him feel like he did now. This was the high he’d been chasing.

He blinked, trying to gather anything else he could say since his mind went blank and his mother went dry.

His silence caused her smile to widen. "But those are bold words for a man who’s spun out twice in the last three races." She added.

Damson snapped out of his trance, chuckling. He then leaned in ever so slightly, his voice dropping low enough that only she could hear. "Careful, Noémie. Keep talking like that, and Nico’s not going to like the way you’re looking at me. You’re noticing things.”

Her breath caught for half a second—just long enough for him to notice. Her eyes didn’t leave him no matter where his dodged on her face, or how close he leaned in.

She recovered quickly, tilting her chin up. "I don’t know what you’re talking about, Damson." She said, her tone lighter than before.

"Don’t you?" he countered, his dark eyes holding hers. "You’re enjoying this." He said, his eyes jumping down to her lips when she rubbed them together to spread her gloss that had the tiniest bit of pink on top of her brown lip liner. “Our banter, of course.” He added cheekily.

She didn’t deny it. Instead, she raised an eyebrow, unflinching. "Careful, Idris. My father’s right over there.” She nodded her head over to the older man with a headset and the red hat on, only about ten feet away from where they were now. “You wouldn’t want him to think you’re distracted." She grinned. “By our, banter of course.” She tilted her head at him, just as cheeky as he was mockingly.

"Let him," Damson said with a grin. "I’m good at multitasking." He said, letting out a small laugh.

Noémie’s laugh was soft, almost inaudible over the noise of the paddock, but it sent a shiver down his spine.

“Shouldn’t you be focused on winning today? Or are you here to get pointers from Nico?" She was full on teasing now, not even trying to hide her grin as she tried to rile him up. Damson faces scrunched up as her lightly jerked his head back at her.

"Nico doesn’t have anything I need," Damson said, leaning in slightly to lean against one of the rials that deported the crew far from the track. His voice dropped. "But you, on the other hand…" He trailed off.

She smiled, holding up her nude manicured index finger. “Ah, Damson.” She cut him off, giving him a certain look. She glanced over her shoulder toward her father, then catching sight of Nico, who was walking toward them with his usual air of superiority.

"Careful what you say.” She murmured, her voice softer now. "Unless you want Nico and Baba to think you’ve got nothing better to do than waste time with me."

Damson smiled, stepping back but letting his gaze linger on her a second longer than necessary. "Time spent with you is never wasted, Nomi."

She rolled her eyes, but he didn’t miss the faint blush on her cheeks as she turned away, obviously due to the name she hasn’t heard anyone call her in a while. She smiled, stepping back just as Nico Valdez appeared, his sharp features twisting into a frown as he noticed the two of them standing far too close.

"Everything alright here?" Nico’s voice was clipped, his gaze bouncing between Damson and Noémie.

"Perfect," Damson replied smoothly, flashing Nico a grin that was all provocation. "Just welcoming Noémie to the paddock. Always good to see such… loyal fans." He said, only offering Nico a small glance as he spoke.

Noémie bit her lip to stifle a chortle as Nico bristled, his shoulders stiffening. "She’s here to support me, Idris. Not you. So maybe focus on staying on the track this time, yeah?"

Noémie was quick to whack her the back of her jeans chest Nico’s chest, all amusement dropping as she looked over at the man that stationed his leg behind her. “Watch it. He’s one of my dad’s best racers.” She hissed, pointing over at Damson. His brows quirked briefly at her clipped tone and sharp gaze on her partner, and the way she was quick to come to his defense. Nico’s jaw ticked as she glanced over at the man before them after giving his girlfriend an apologetic look.

Damson’s grin widened. "Oh, I’ll stay on track. And when I pass you, I’ll be sure to give Nomi a little wave." He said, the nickname rolling off his tongue too easily. Noémie’s gaze made its way back to him, her eyes softening and her smile subtle. But Damson’s eyes were trained on Nico, whose were locked on his.

The tension between the two drivers was electric, but Noémie broke the moment, placing a hand on Nico’s arm. "Let’s go, Nico," she said, her tone calm but her eyes sparkling with mischief as she glanced at Damson one last time. He gave them a lazy wave before heading back to his car.

As she walked away, Damson turned and called after her, his voice light but laced with meaning. "I’ll see you after the race, Noémie. I’ll save you a spot on the winner’s podium." She flashed a quick glance back at him, almost not noticeable with the way she swiped her hair over her shoulder. But he saw the flash of her pearly whites and the slight sway of her hips, telling him she’d heard him loud and clear.

He bit his lip with a smile before turning to quickly make his way back to his car. The race hadn’t even started yet, but Damson was already playing to win.

I don’t really know who to tag in this so if you want to be added to the tag list, just let a sista know in the comments.

#damson idris x reader #damson idris #franklin saint x reader #franklin saint #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #Joshua Pearce x reader #Joshua Pearce x black!reader #Joshua Pearce x black!oc #f1Damson Idris #F1 Damson Idris #f1 oc #Jazzie’sAllStars #kelvin harrison jr.#aaron pierre

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youatemylollipop · 2 years ago

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Feral alpha Mikey sano x omega reader where Mikey knocked reader up? Make it dark! And could you end it with reader being forced to marry him? Could you also make fem reader? It’s okay if you chose to not specify gender. It’s just that I have fad this idea for a while, and I liked the way you wrote for yandere Mikey! I understand if you don’t want. You can write when ur request are open again, not pressure !

A/N: I'm sorry if this one-shot turned out to be too dark!😖 For some reason, when I read your request, it was the first thing that came to mind. Additionally, English is not my first language, so please forgive any grammatical errors. They are more likely to occur in a longer piece of writing like this. There’s also this fact that I have never written anything close to being this explicit before, so it might not be the best, just so you are aware.

Synopsis: Manjirō had always been your guiding light, protecting you from the darkest of nights. But now, you're not so sure anymore.

Fandom: Tokyo Revengers

Characters: Sano Manjirō X Female Reader

⚠️ WARNING: Forced marriage, a/b/o dynamics, feral alpha Mikey, dark themes, non-con/dub-con, forced orgasm, forced pregnancy, breeding kink, knotting, marking, nipple play, fingering, oral sex (f.receiving), vaginal sex, loss of virginity, forced heat cycles, signs of manipulation, mentions of death, Kisaki Tetta is his own warning, MDNI!!

Word Count: 4.2K

You still fail to understand how things have turned out the way they did. Back then, you had always seen Manjirō as your knight in shining armor, your protector. He was always there when you needed him, and if not, he would make sure to keep his calling device close, in his pocket, one call away. Then he would dismiss any meeting, no matter how important it was, speeding through the busy streets of Tokyo to your aid.

The two of you first met in your second year of middle school as you browsed through the bookshelves in the school library, trying to find something that would fit your taste. That's when you spotted Manjirō, a 3rd-year student who was commonly known as the commander of the Tokyo Manji Gang, sleeping in the corner of the library with his head resting on the table.

You felt instantly drawn to the sleeping boy and were inclined to approach him, which was new to you. Your inner omega had always been quite picky when it came to attraction, and so far, not one alpha had managed to gain its affection. If the immediate reaction had not been repulsion, indifference would be the most positive response that they would achieve.

Manjirō shone like the sun, radiating brightness that required sunglasses to behold, lest you risk blindness. His smile was always radiant, a stark contrast to his onyx eyes that resembled a starless sky at its darkest hour. Gazing into them was like staring into the abyss, without the glimmer of stars to light the way.

He was like spring, full of life and childish wonder that fueled him to do the most rash yet exciting things. You, on the other hand, were autumn, more calm and collected, but still filled with various warm colors that would not let you turn into winter. Two opposites, drawn to one another like missing pieces of a puzzle.

Manjirō was not like other alphas. He respected omegas and believed that they deserved a better standing in today's society. Sure, they could go to school, but only if their alpha parent allowed it. Once an omega reached the age of eighteen, they were typically married off to the alpha chosen by their family. These arrangements were often made during adolescence, and you were no exception to this rule.

Kisaki Tetta, was the man your father had chosen as your future husband. However, Kisaki was not an alpha but a beta. You did not particularly dislike Tetta-kun, however, there was a certain amount of unease whenever the two of you were together. Your inner omega would always whimper in his presence, telling you that he was best to avoid. But you ignored it in favor of your marriage. Unfortunately there was nothing you could do, and the best way to approach this dilemma was to stay civil with your future husband.

You understood the reason behind your father's actions. Due to your omega's pickiness, it was hard to find a perfect match for it. However, a small part of you would have preferred for your father to let you marry the older Haitian brother at the time. Sure, he was four years older, but the marriage would have only happened once you had stepped into adulthood.

If it were up to you, you wouldn't mind marrying Ran. Unlike Tetta-kun, Ran clearly loved you. You could tell by how heartbroken he was when he found out about the arranged marriage. However, you knew that your father would never agree to marry off his daughter to someone with a notorious reputation within the delinquent world.

Although you did not love Ran in that sense, you were content with letting him love you. At the time, the perfect scenario did not exist in your mind. The chance of falling in love with someone equally fiercely as they have with you seemed like a far away dream.

But then you met Manjirō and the world around you soon ceased to exist. There was only you and him, and for the first time you felt truly happy.

Manjirō was always gentle with you. Sometimes, when you spoke about an interesting book you had recently read or a movie you recently watched, you would catch him staring at you with a look of pure adoration, while smiling dreamily. Whenever this happened, you would suddenly become a stuttering mess, which would cause him to tease you endlessly over how 'cute' he thought it was.

However, as time passed, Manjirō grew more distant. He still took you on rides with his Babu in the middle of the night when the whole neighborhood was off to dreamland. He waited for you near the school gates, but without his bike, knowing how strict your parents were about your associations. Yet the constant shine he once radiated began to fade.

You understood him, of course. Constantly being trailed by death after death would most likely make you emotionally exhausted. A part of you felt like crying every single time the blond would give you one of his now constant melancholic smiles, trying to mask the void that began to spread through his entire being.

But he was not alone. You grieved together. Sure, you did not know his friends for as long as Manjirō did. However, you had still formed a certain bond with a few of them. You still remember how sad Manjirō looked when he had suddenly called you one night, asking you if you could meet him at the hospital. His body shook tremendously as he replayed the scene of his stabbed, and now dead friend. They never even got the chance to reconcile.

You only knew Ryūguji for a few months, but during the time you spent together you began to see him as an older brother. You always felt a certain amount of amazement over the way he managed to deal with Manjirō on a daily basis. And Draken would always turn to you with a kind smile and tell you how it was nothing compared to the way you had managed to handle him.

Then it was Keisuke’s turn, and unlike the rest of the Tokyo Manji Gang, Keisuke was the one you had known the longest. Even before Manjirō. And it broke your heart when the blond had one day broken the news of his sudden death. The rash and brute boy that was the exact opposite of you but somehow became your most reliable confidant had left this world without any goodbye.

You remembered the day you first met vividly. It was raining cats and dogs outside, and you were unfortunate enough to forget your umbrella at home. As you walked down the main road, you suddenly stumbled upon a box lying near the dumpsters. You could hear meows coming from it, which compelled you to open it.

Keisuke must have seen you from the other side of the road, because while you were too busy examining the small kittens inside the box the rain had stopped hitting you. This was something that you realized was rather odd, since you could still hear the aggressive downpours around you. And that was when you had met Baji Keisuke, first division commander of the Tokyo Manji Gang—and surprisingly a big cat lover—holding an umbrella over your head whilst sending you a cheeky grin.

However, what you assumed had become the snapping point was the death of Sano Emma, the younger sister of Sano Manjirō but also your close friend and classmate. It was a truly heartbreaking moment - one second, you were having a normal conversation, and the next, she was lying cold and motionless on the pavement, completely unaware of the world surrounding her. And you honestly did not understand how somebody could be so cruel, that they were willing to kill an innocent teenage girl.

After that day, Manjirō had become a shell of his former self. But you still loved him because, as cold as he was with others, he remained tender with you. He would still smile, even though those smiles were now completely empty. Sometimes the two of you would sit near the river, and he would talk about your future together, how he could not bear to lose you to the hands of the Grim Reaper.

You were skeptical, but could not help but hope that the two of you would indeed have your happy ending. The happy ending where you were married and had a family together. Where you were not forcefully married to another man. To the man that you did not love.

Sometimes you imagined scenarios where you and Manjriō would run away together. Away from your parents. Away from his grief and constant feeling of emptiness. Away from these burdens that were clutching onto the both of you like a goddamn parasite.

“[Name]-chin.”

Manjirō suddenly spoke up, gaining your attention. A few hours prior your boyfriend had decided to take you to your shared favorite place near the river, where you have been sitting next to each other in silence enjoying the romantic atmosphere.

It was quite common for you and Manjirō to enjoy each other's company like this. You did not need to hold a conversation to feel content. Most often, you would sit with your back against a tree trunk, while Manjirō's head lay in your lap and you read a book. Sometimes, during school hours, Draken would find you in the same position on the rooftop.

“Yes?”

You sent him a quizzical look, but he did not return your gaze. Instead, he continued to stare blankly at the river, silently watching as the water slowly continued to flow.

“Kisaki had approached me a few days ago. Said that he knows about our relationship and that he wants to help us.” You hummed in response, taking a hold of Manjirō’s hand and intertwining your fingers.

Truth be told, you still felt a bit skeptical, and now that Tetta-kun was involved it made you grow more uneasy. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Kisaki’s intellect. But you weren’t stupid enough to see past his sometimes unethical ways to deal with things. Even though Tetta-kun had expressed his disinterest in your marriage, claiming that he already was in love with another beta girl, Tachibana Hinata, you couldn’t help but feel unsure.

At that time, the male claimed that he would have interfered with his parents' plans if he had the authority, but neither his opinion nor yours seemed to matter. Although he sounded sincere, a part of you sensed that he might not have been entirely truthful and could have had a hidden agenda. Besides, his parents didn't appear to be excessively controlling.

"Are you sure about this, Manjirō?" You asked, furrowing your eyebrows with concern as you pressed your chin onto his broad shoulder. It was the first time during your conversation that the blond had looked at you, but his expression was unreadable. You couldn't help but worry about him.

Manjirō carefully wrapped his right arm around your waist, bringing your body closer to his. He kissed your forehead softly, lips remaining there for a few more seconds before pulling away. But only enough to press his forehead against your own. His expression was still unreadable, but seemed to have softened up a bit.

Lost within the depths of the starless nights that were his eyes, you didn’t notice how his left hand had got up and cupped your cheek until you felt the coolness of his fingertips make contact with your skin. His thumb began to draw small circles across the surface as he continued to look at you with the same dead expression that held only a tiny bit of the usual warmth it did back in the old days.

“Do you still want me, [Name]-chin?” You furrowed your eyebrows at his question, not understanding where this was coming from. Carefully wrapping your arms around his neck, you sent him a look that expressed nothing but worry for him.

“Of course Manjirō, I love you.” The male seemed to visibly relax at your reassurance. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, left arm wrapping around your waist where his other had been. His hot breath fanning over your sensitive skin.

You couldn’t help but feel flustered by this sort of intimacy. Sure, this was far from the first time and Manjirō had always been very affectionate with you, but it still never failed to increase the erratic beating of your heart. Sometimes it made you worry that it would just stop, not having enough stamina to keep up with his advances.

“I love you too.” He whispered, arms unwrapping from your waist as he placed the palms of his hands on your hips before squeezing on the clothed flesh.

“I promise that I will make it work out in the end.” Manjirō’s voice was low as he spoke the last part, finally pulling away from your neck to make eye contact. His gaze was unwavering and you couldn’t help but feel slightly dazed by this whole situation. And it was only then that you were able to pick up on a strange aroma that you’ve never smelled on him before. It was sweet and reminded you of the lavender flower.

Nodding dumbly, you let Manjirō take a hold of your hand as he led you towards his Babu. Everything seemed to go on autopilot afterwards. You did not even notice at what point you had arrived at his place. It felt as if you had been charmed with a serenade that kept your body completely at his mercy.

The blond led you towards his bedroom, and you followed numbly, your mind growing dizzier with each passing second. You thought you could hear the sound of someone locking the door, but you weren't sure. Your body started to heat up, and the sensation was both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

Before long, a pair of muscular arms wrapped around your waist, jolting you back to reality. Manjirō was holding your body tightly against his own, and you could feel his body heat against your back. He was peppering your neck with small kisses, causing your body to heat up even more.

Your breathing was turning increasingly erratic and you were starting to feel uncomfortable. But as you were trying to squeeze yourself out of his grip it only became tighter.

“M-Manjirō, what a-are you doing?” The eighteen year old groaned into your neck as his hands went higher up to knead your breasts.

“This is the only solution we have, [Name]-chin.”

“H-Huh?” He swiftly turned you around so that you would now stand face to face with him, before tearing your shirt into pieces. More pieces of clothing soon followed, until he had you lying completely bare for his predatory gaze to take in. Manjirō growled, feeling cock twitch at the sight of his omega presenting for him.

Puffs of air left your mouth as you watched the alpha undress right in front of you. The sight of his muscular and well trained body, making your cheeks flush in the process. Your head was still spinning, and you had a hard time comprehending what was going on. All you could tell was that your omega’s neediness was growing at an alarming rate.

Not even once in your life had you experienced something like this. Sure, you were aware that at some point you would most likely want to become more intimate with your boyfriend, but not like this. Not this suddenly. You didn’t feel ready. However, your inner omega seemed to disagree as you noticed that Manjirō had already finished undressing.

For the first time in your life did you feel truly small, especially in your boyfriend's presence. Manjrō was hovering over you, his blond hair falling down his handsome face like curtains. His thick scent was growing stronger, which made you question if there was even any oxygen left in the air.

The smell was intoxicating and held a mixture of citrus and spice combined with a sense of earthiness that made you feel grounded. It was a strange fusion that made you both float in the sky whilst a feeling of stability still remained. Yet the control over your body remained nonexistent.

Manjirō tapped your cheek gently, snapping you out from your dazed state. Then proceeded by pressing a tender kiss against the corner of your mouth before going down to your neglected breasts. He enclosed your nipples with his soft lips and started sucking, while his right hand started to play with the other one. This action made you arch your back in pleasure.

Then he pulled away from the left breast in favor of tending the other. His warm and wet tongue encircled it before he once again started to suck. Nipping on the places surrounding it from time to time, leaving purple bruises in that area. He was acting like a starved animal, devouring your breast in a desperate kind of frenzy.

Manjirō then began to descend your body, leaving a trail of kisses down its wake. The lower he got, however, the less comfortable you began to feel. You didn’t want him there. You wanted Manjirō to stop, but something was restraining you from voicing your feelings. Tears began to pour down your cheeks, until a gasp suddenly left your lips.

Manjirō had spread your legs open, leaving your dripping pussy completely exposed. You could feel the amount of slick that had already been produced, dripping down on the bed sheets, which made the streams of air that the blond blew hit far more sensitively than it should have. He groaned as the smell of your sweet essence reached his nostrils, placing his tongue flatly against your sensitive pearl before licking in long and agonizing strokes.

“You taste so good, baby.” You unconsciously moaned, his words causing your womanhood clench around nothing. It was beginning to feel painfully empty and you had no idea what to do.

You bucked your hips against his face, craving more of the pleasure that his tongue was providing you. Noticing your increasing desperation, Manjirō placed his thumb on your clitoris and caressed it while peppering your sex with small sloppy kisses before plunging one finger into your needy little hole.

Clenching around the foreign thing that had entered you, your boyfriend simply continued to caress the outer part of your sex as you got used to the intruder. Once you relaxed a second finger was introduced, which was later followed by a third. His fingers were hitting you so goodly, causing each moan that you were producing to turn into screams of pleasure.

Manjirō let out an animalistic growl, each thrust becoming more forceful than the previous one. The pleasure hit you in increasingly powerful shockwaves as you began to approach your first orgasm. And just as you were about to topple over the edge, your pussy was suddenly left completely empty. However, you did not get to ponder over it for long, as Manjirō’s wet lips were suddenly pressing aggressively against your cunt.

Another moan escaped your lips as he started to tongue fuck you. Your hands flew up, taking a harsh hold of his blond locks as you pressed his face further into your dripping pussy. His grip on your plush thighs was tight, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care, far too gone in the immense pleasure that your alpha was giving you.

Manjirō was groaning, humping onto the mattress, desperate to reach his own orgasm. He was beginning to lose patience, however, the taste of your sweet pussy was too intoxicating to ignore. Then he took a small, barely noticeable bite of your sex, which caused you to spasm all over his face as he continued to eat you out through your orgasm. Letting you ride it out against his face.

Not giving you much time to bask in the afterglow, the alpha pounced on you, kissing you feverishly once your face was close enough for him to reach your delicious lips. You tried to break away in desperate need for air, but the male wouldn’t let go until he was satisfied.

“Need more,” he mumbled, finally pushing himself off of you. His cheeks were flushed and the sultry look that he was giving you made your inner omega preen. Manjirō took once again a hold of your thighs, before he wrapped your legs around his waist. That’s when you finally noticed his engorged cock. It was thick and veiny and a part of you was wondering how that thing was going to fit inside you.

“W-Wait!” You stuttered as his red and angry looking tip began to press against your entrance, heart rate picking up as panic began to flood your system. You didn’t want this.

“Shh…” The male hushed you, pressing his forehead against yours as he began to introduce his tip into your warm and inviting hole. “This is the only way, [Name]-chin.”

The words that were supposed to be encouraging, sounded more like a feral growl. He pushed into you with one single thrust, forcing a loud moan out of you in the process. The sensation felt so foreign, but not unwelcome. Despite the initial state of fear, your inner omega began to purr with content at the feeling of being filled by its alpha.

You, on the other hand, were trembling at the newfound sensation. It felt so weird and uncomfortable to have such a big, warm and throbbing thing inside of you. But Manjirō didn’t give you much time to get used to it as he began to thrust. The first two strokes were lazy and more testing before he began to increase his pace.

Groans and incoherent words were escaping his lips as he continued to fuck into you with intense force. The bed creaked and the headboard slammed into the wall with each of Manjirō’s thrusts. Your moans were increasing in volume, which urged the blond to fuck you harder.

“Fuck, pussy s’tight.”

Soon his thrusts began to slow down and you could feel his dick begin to grow in size. This caused your eyes to widen in realization as you began to trash around trying to push him off of you.

“M-Manjirō please!” But the male ignored you, wrapping his arms around you tightly, immobilizing you completely as he continued to pound into you. Moan after moan escaped your lips as suddenly a wave of pure ecstasy forced its way through your body, causing it to shake aggressively with the force of your second orgasm. It didn’t matter how much you didn't want this to happen. It was obvious that you stood no chance against a strong alpha like Manjirō, especially when your own inner omega seemed to welcome this kind of treatment.

Manjirō, on the other hand, was too far gone to register any of your pleas. His mind clouded by the thought of finally being able to mark you, to knotting you. Thoughts clouded by the images of you walking around in your shared house with a round belly filled with his puppies. Heavy tits bouncing with every step that you take while milk oozes out of your painfully hard nipples.

You feel the male sinking his teeth into your neck, earning yet another purr of contentment from your omega. At this point Manjiō’s knot had grown so large, it was only a matter of seconds before you’d be filled with it. And as if on cue, hot streams of his fertile semen suddenly began to spurt into your womb.

Everything went hazy after that. You still remember the way he would fuck his cum into you through vasts of the night, each time his dick would be ready for another round. You remember lying in your boyfriend’s embrace, his arms keeping you in a possessive hold with his knot buried deep inside of you. Only to fall asleep and wake up with him pounding into you yet again.

Only after six weeks did you find out that you're pregnant, which caused an uproar at home. Your father appeared to be more worried for your well-being, than angry. Your mother, on the other hand, expressed nothing but utter disappointment.

The wedding was held a few months later during your second month of pregnancy. Manjirō did whatever he could to help you during the process. He made sure to be patient with you and didn’t make any advances, remaining completely respectful of your boundaries. But no matter how tender and understanding he was, it couldn’t erase what he had done.

No matter how many times he tried to apologize and express how sorry he was, you began to drift away from him. You felt betrayed and nothing he did would change that. This time, it was you who had become a shell of your former self. Like one of those porcelain dolls that people would put on their shelves as a decor. Pretty in every aspect…

…except for the dead eyes that were now representing every dimension of your soul.

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justonemorechapternicercy · 1 year ago

Text

Being a bisexual was hard as fuck on a normal day, but it was especially hard to be when you had to face with two incredibly attractive people.

Who were partners. Queerplatonic life partners, but committed partners nonetheless.

Fuck his life.

“Percy! You made it!” Rachel grinned, waving from her seat in her usual exuberance. She looked so radiant, so full of life, especially next to her partner, the literal stormcloud. They were like the Sun and the Moon next to each other, and they were beautiful. One colorful and full of life, the other, full in black and looking like a vampire prince straight out of a dark romance story.

What's more, even though he looked like the devil, according to Rachel, he was actually a complete softie.

So, Percy Jackson was fucked. He couldn't even run away because how would that look now that they noticed him?

“Uh, yeah… Hi, Rachel! Hi, Nico!” He smiled a bit awkwardly, shaking hands with Nico, and being smothered by Rachel's warm hug. “Do you need anything?” He asked, nodding towards the counter.

“No, we are good, and I also got that blue hot chocolate you adore so much!”

Percy stopped. And stared.

There, next to Nico's dark coffee, and Rachel’s tea, was his blue hot chocolate. With marshmallows. And coconut flakes.

So fucking unfair that Rachel already knew the way straight into his heart. And was anybody wondering why he would fall for somebody he knew was in a committed relationship?! He couldn’t even say he didn’t know that! Rachel was very straightforward from the first time, mentioning her soulmate in basically every sentence.

“Oh… thank you,” he mumbled, sitting down in front of them. Rachel's answering smile was so radiant, that Percy had to wonder where his sunglasses were.

“Now, I know you heard a lot about each other, but this is Percy, the teacher I was talking about. I helped him with his car, and now he is helping me with the art project in the lodge. He is so creative and fun! And this is Nico, my soulmate in the whole world. We've known each other for basically forever, our parents are in the same circles, and we bonded through mischiefs and shared trauma.”

“That sounds… fun,” he deadpanned. He was quite happy that he didn’t stay with his father if this was what rich kids had to bond about.

“Right?” Nico snorted. “It is nice to meet you. Rach’s told me so much about you, it feels like I already know you.”

Percy blushed. The words seemed innocent enough, but the way Nico said them, and that look in his eyes…

Percy was a disaster of a bisexual.

“Hi, me too. I mean, you too. I mean, it is nice to meet you, and I know so much about you too!” Percy rambled. Taking a sip of his hot chocolate, he let out a satisfied sigh. Coconut and white chocolate was the best combination!

He opened his eyes he didn’t even realize he closed, and blushed again, being at the crossfire of two pairs of blazing eyes.

He must have been imagining things, mustn’t he? There was no way-

No. There was no way. Rachel and Nico were way too close to each other; it was obvious to see the easy connection between the two of them. They shared inside jokes and complained about people Percy didn’t know anything about and they made each other laugh. Rachel with her sunny disposition and Nico with his sarcastic remarks was a surprisingly perfect combination. They tried to involve Percy, but… he still felt like an outsider.

“Oooh, Percy! Nico and I were talking about what we are doing on Christmas. We have this silly tradition of watching cheesy holiday movies together, while we complain about how much better it could be if we were the ones writing them. They would be a lot queerer, that’s for sure,” Rachel giggled. “Anyway, you’ll join us, right?”

“Uh… I’m not sure if I can do it,” he said. Rachel and even Nico looked disappointed, but they nodded.

Throughout the morning, Percy watched Nico and Rachel share mischievous smiles, finish each other’s sentences as if they were one mind in two bodies, and being completely in sync. It left Percy feeling a pang of jealousy. Trying to hide it, he forced a smile, but it was hard to see the girl he’d been crushing on, and the guy who left him breathless, be the perfect partners.

As they drank the last drops of their beverages, he just wanted to leave. They were nice, they were cute, and they were leaving him so overwhelmed.

“So, I will show Nico around before we go back to the lodge. Will you join us?”

The words tumble out of Percy’s mouth before he could stop himself. “Thanks, but I’ve got some stuff to do. I’ll meet you at the lodge later, okay?” He hesitated for a moment, then said, “It was nice to meet you! I’ll… uh… I’ll go now. To do… things. Important things.”

Rachel and Nico shared an unreadable look, but they nodded. He couldn’t stop the feeling that he must have missed something significant, something that he couldn’t understand because he wasn’t part of them. He was an outsider.

That hurt more than he had any right to feel.

As he stepped out of the coffee shop, he felt like he left something important behind. But he had to leave; he didn't want to see how the girl who he'd been crushing on since the moment she helped him with his car, be so lovey-dovey with her cute boyfriend.

He always had a tiny thing for curly hair. And they had curly hair squared.

–

“Wait! There’s an ice rink?” Nico exclaimed.

“Of course, we have,” Percy grinned. It was always the best time of the year when they opened the rink in the middle of the town square. He loved every type of water sport - and he considered most winter sports as water sports. Ice and snow were, after all, just cold water.

“Let’s go then! What are we waiting for?!”

Nico was so excited, Percy didn’t realize he could be so enthusiastic about something like ice skating. He looked like the devil himself in his black dresses and dark looks; it was absolutely adorable when he looked like a little kid in a candy store.

“You will come with us, right? Please, come with us!”

One touch of Nico, and Percy was too weak to say no. He sighed, but said, “Okay.”

The answering grin was more than enough to balance the heartache.

He led them to the town square, which was transformed into a winter wonderland, decorated with twinkling lights and festive ornaments. The sweet smell of mulled wine felt intoxicating, but not as intoxicating as the closeness of Rachel and Nico was.

Bundled up in scarves, hats, and mittens, they looked like two fallen angels.

The two men dragged Rachel behind them, gliding onto the ice, hand in hand. They laughed at Rachel’s fumblings, and the girl cheered for the two competing men who did more and more elaborate moves on the ice.

It was a great time.

As they skated, the initial awkwardness faded completely, and the joy of having two people he liked took over. Rachel and Nico included Percy effortlessly, sharing stories about each other - like the fact that Nico used to be a professional ice skater before he had to take over his father’s law firm -, and getting to know each other better.

Rachel was already fun to spend time with, but with Nico, they were an unstoppable force. Their banters were hilarious and sometimes Percy was afraid they would melt the ice with the way they roasted each other.

“Watch this,” Nico grinned, and spun and twirled on the ice, like the Ice Prince he was.

“He really is something, isn’t he?” Rachel smiled softly. Percy mirrored her.

“He really is.”

As Nico skated back to them, he winked at Percy, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Come, let’s leave the loser behind, and show me your moves.” He grabbed Percy’s hand, who joined the other man. They moved as if their movements were choreographed, their ice dance was a surprise show for the other skaters.

As they glided gracefully, Nico pulled Percy into a spin, their laughter echoing in the rink. Percy felt like he could fly; he was so gone on them. Their eyes met, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. The playful atmosphere shifted, and the connection Percy felt the moment their eyes met on that fateful day in the coffee shop, deepened. He was tempted, but…

He leaned away, breaking the moment.

It wasn’t fair to Rachel.

–

“Tonight has been amazing, hasn’t it?” Percy wondered. The first time he met with Nico, he’d been afraid, rejected, and feeling like an outsider. But after some days, getting to know Nico, and Rachel-and-Nico, spending time with them was as easy as breathing. Their time together was magical and fun, and everything he’d ever wished for. He wasn’t sure if it was only him who felt the connection, but even if the romantic tone was just in his head, their friendship meant so much to him.

Rachel, curled in his lap, nodded. “Yes.”

Nico, leaning against him on the other side, hummed affirmatively. Percy felt like he belonged between them, squished from both sides. The initial pain about Rachel’s and Nico’s relationship faded, replaced by the realization that they really wanted to spend time with them. They included him, they sought out him individually and together as well, and they constantly touched him.

Their bond was genuine.

“Thanks for convincing me to join you. The whole week was so much fun, I don’t remember the last time I enjoyed myself so much.” He took a sip of his eggnog and sighed contently.

“Thank you for indulging us. You made this Christmas into the best Christmas ever. Spending time here… I thought it was going to be a nightmare. I never wanted to be in a small town, especially not during the holiday, without Nico, trying to promote the lodge, but you made everything so much better. Thank you.” Rachel’s words made his insides melt. He was glad he wasn’t the only one who thought this holiday was magical.

Nico moved, and he partly laid on Percy. “Coming here was the best decision I’ve ever made. Thank you for being you.”

They chatted for a while, watching those cheesy Christmas movies they mentioned before. The movies were like copies of each other, even the actors were mostly the same - but commenting on them, wondering how they would change things, made the whole experience amazing.

As they watched one movie that was particularly similar to their own experiences, except for the partner who came wasn’t keen on getting to know the small-town guy, Nico grinned mischievously, making Percy’s inside quiver.

“Uh-huh. I don’t like that look,” he joked.

“What? I’m completely innocent,” Nico batted his eyelashes. “I was just thinking about how much better our story is.”

Rachel nudged Nico with a teasing smile. “I agree, it is so much better!”

Nico sat up, facing Percy with a more serious expression. “I wanted to tell you something.”

“Uh… What is it?” Percy asked uncertainly, unsure if it was going to go as he wished, or if he read the room wrong.

“I think you are the most captivating person I’ve ever met.” Percy blushed but didn’t break their eye contact.

“And I think you are the most confusing one,” he mumbled.

“In a good way, I hope,” Nico grinned.

“The best way,” Percy nodded.

Not letting to derail the conversation, Nico took a deep breath. His expression turned more sincere, eyes conveying nothing but the truth. “There’s something else I wanted to say. I’ve been trying to find the right moment, and… well. We work well together, aren’t we? We are having fun and it feels like we’ve known each other for years. I know we just met three weeks ago… But spending time with you, made me realize how much I like you. I like you, Percy. More than just a friend, differently than I like Rachel, my literal platonic life partner. I’ve been crushing on you, and I hope that it is not one-sided.”

The room fell silent for a moment as Percy processed what the hell had happened. He pinched himself, afraid that he was dreaming, but…

It was real.

“I… I hope I didn’t make things awkward,” Nico mumbled nervously. “I just wanted to be honest with you.”

“No, I… I feel the same. I like you too, Nico.” Percy hesitated, but in for a penny, in for a pound, he turned towards Rachel. “And I like you, too. You two are the best thing that ever happened to me. I had a crush on you ever since we met, and after meeting with Nico, I couldn’t help but fall for him too.”

Rachel beamed. “I like you too!”

They giggled, the relief in the room was almost palpable.

Percy turned to Nico, whose eyes were full of promises. Leaning in, with a gentle touch, Nico captured Percy’s lips in a tender kiss. The world faded around them, his whole universe was concentrated in the two people he was intertwined with. Breaking their kiss, they breathed in each other.

Before he could react, Rachel was already there, leaning in, kissing him sweetly, feather-softly. He never expected this to happen with him in real life, but… It was better than anything he’d ever imagined. The two of them… They were everything to him.

As they pulled away, Rachel looked into Percy’s eyes, her gaze filled with affection.

“Merry Christmas, guys,” Percy said.

“Merry Christmas, Percy,” they replied, smiling more brightly than any of the Christmas lights could ever measure up to.

“Well,” Rachel laughed, breaking the tension with her lighthearted tone. “This is quite the plot twist!”

“I told you our story was way better!” Nico huffed jokingly.

“That you did,” Percy grinned, pressing a quick kiss on Nico’s lips. Now that he could do it, he had the suspicion that he’d never wanted to stop kissing him, kissing them.

And, if they played their cards right, he’d never have to.

#percy jackson #nico di angelo #rachel elizabeth dare #nicercy #percico #perachel #nicerachel #nico x percy x rachel #pjo #pjo fic #percy's harem #this is me after watching too many christmas movies with my mom #they are way too straight for my taste xD

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zet-sway · 10 months ago

Text

Fanfic: Sonnenblume

Or, I finally wrote a desert vacation fic.

[Read on AO3] - Rated E for SPICYEEEEEEEE

Pairing: Thane/FShep | Rating: 18+ | Words: ~4600

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“I think I found a place,” she says one morning. “An old friend of my mom's, they have a vacation home back on Earth, out in the American Southwest.”

Thane raises a brow at her. They're cleaning out the cargo hold, offloading collector tech at the citadel tower dock for distribution to the council races, each of them making their requests for research and study.

“I've never been to Earth,” he muses. There are any number of arid planets to visit, it seems almost foolish he is just now considering that Earth has many climates, deserts included.

“I haven't been in a long time. Grew up in space, last time I was topside was before my Spectre appointment. But my mom's friend says it's the perfect time to visit. A month from now it'll be hotter than a Krogan’s quad.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Earth sounds lovely, Siha.”

Her smile could light up the deepest reaches of dark space.

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Day 1

They're docking in Vancouver, slipping out the cargo hold and on to a taxi to whisk them away right under the noses of the Alliance's top brass.

The joy in her eyes is supernatural, he thinks. Unshackled from the military for seven scant days, Shepard practically glows with the energy of her newfound freedom. They leave an absolutely amateur trail of evidence as they flee south, along the west coast of the United States, through mountains and redwoods and oceans. The only stop they need to make is to pick up new clothes, snacks, and sunscreen.

They're on vacation.

He has to think to remember how to say it in his mother tongue. Ten years ago, he hadn't the funds to take time away from work after his marriage. Like many within the Compact, his life had always been driven by work, using the few pockets of silence in the spaces between each job to secure the next contract, research the next target, or hone his skills. Little time had ever been spared for himself. This… outing, this vacation, is something he's long thought belonged to the upper echelons of society and caste.

But he supposes he is wealthy, in some sense.

He's in love.

Wealth is watching Shepard parade almost girlishly in front of the shopping center’s changing rooms, all blushing cheeks and nervous laughter as she twirls the golden yellow sundress that she insists she's “unsure” about. Wealth is the way her face lights up when she spots a large, wavy brimmed hat across the aisle and races to try it on. Wealth is how she winks at him over her oversized sunglasses, and the levity in her voice when she says, with a devil's grin, “They'll never recognize me now.”

She might be right. The man at the checkout counter doesn't spare them a second glance as he checks out with their things.

Vacation suits her. And as they hail another transit to take them to the arid southwest, he thinks it's beginning to suit him too. He's rather looking forward to the breezy garments he’d chosen for himself.

Shepard's ruby red hair is swallowed by her massive sun hat, casting a broad shadow down her lean and muscled frame and the golden fabric of her dress. “Civvies,” she calls them. “You know, civilian clothes.”

He's quite certain there's nothing civilian about her. Her shoulders are too square, her calves and arms too hardened. She turns the eyes of the other passengers, oblivious to or simply ignoring their blatant stares. He feels like a shadow by comparison, clothed for now in the dark colors so typical of his profession. Still, her head falls against his shoulder and she slips her hand into his, laying claim to him all the same. Her silent affection makes his heart and body ache for her.

With practiced breaths, he slips beneath the waves of memory, willing himself through the minutes until the moment when they’re finally alone.

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Soon enough, they find themselves stepping off yet another transport not far from their rental.

Nearly one with the rocky desert, the low-roofed home is a dissertation in minimalist design, with flat, concrete lines gliding across deep-set windows, leading his eye to a modest entryway and through the glass beyond. Dimly, he wonders if he might have the funds to purchase the property; the volus bankers who minded his accounts probably thought him dead, having let his assets sit untouched for years. A minimalist by nature, this is precisely the place he had long dreamed of living.

Shepard tugs his hand, her skirt fluttering in the transport's downdraft, and his thoughts melt beneath her eyes, lit from within by a soft, cybernetic glow in the shadow of her sun hat.

She drops their things the moment both feet are over the threshold. Before he’s even figured out how to lock the door, her mouth is on his. She pulls him - grasps him by the shoulders and tugs him deeper into the house, kicking off her sandals as she goes, leading him towards whatever furniture lies beyond. True to her nature, his Siha is impatient. She is the fiery crown of Arashu, and he the rolling tide of Kalahira. He tempers her flames, grasping her wrists and flattening her hands against his chest as he kisses her, slow and deep.

The idyllic home they'll share for the week isn’t much more than background noise as she yields against him.

Her shoulders are already kissed by the sun, dusted with a delicate pink hue that warms beneath his touch. He slips a finger beneath one narrow strap of her dress, sliding it down her arm, trailing kisses in his wake. One luscious breast comes free, then the other, and her dress falls to the ground without ceremony.

Not long after, she's straddling him on the couch, grinding down on him with those soft little moans he's replayed over and over again in his mind.

Their first time was like this. He basks in the ethereal headspace between past and present, crisscrossing them in his mind as her hips roll against his, hot breath on his neck. And then she lets out the smallest whimper, a sound so vulnerable and soft that he cannot help but breathe her name in return, clutching her close. His dominant hand settles on her backside, aiding her motion; the other rests between her shoulder blades as he drives himself up into her heat, his mouth wandering in clumsy gasps along her chest. The way she lets her weight fall against him is an unspoken surrender, a precious gift she has chosen only him to receive.

He will never know why she chose him. But if it's him she wants, then she shall have him. Every night, again and again, until she screams his name in ecstasy and they lay in satiated exhaustion.

Tu-fira.

He belongs to her.

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It’s difficult to articulate how natural this feels.

Night falls, a chill settling over the rocky desert. He’s been alone with her many times, but never quite like this. In the short time they’ve known one another, she’s never been more than a commlink away from her crew, her mission, her ship and her duty. Here, nestled under a sea of stars, they’re more alone than either of them have been in decades. He watches the light of the backyard firepit cast flickering shadows on her bare skin, their hands intertwined.

Long after driving one another to sweat-kissed exhaustion, they remain entangled, engrossed in conversation. It’s like meeting her for the first time all over again. The armored force of nature who had carved a willful path into his life now lay naked in a nest of blankets with him, firelight dancing in her eyes, deep into a long and meandering train of thought. She weaves tales of her life before the Alliance, of joyrides and hijinks that would have made even his younger, rambunctious self hesitate. Her excitement touches his soul with a kind of contentment that he’s not touched in what feels like a lifetime.

Inevitably, the chill of night becomes too much to bear, and their talks meander back to the physical; stories of life before one another and the various trysts that preceded.

He can hear the desire in the deep, red edge of her voice; the way her tone dips from casual to sensual as she stands, clothed only in the dancing hues of firelight, and leads him to the crisp, untouched sheets of their shared bed. He pulls her close, scaled hands sliding across bare human skin, pointedly savoring her, willing his want and his love to find their way into every corner of her soul.

He wants. Oh, how deeply he wants.

He whispers prayers into her palms, one by one, as she rides him into the break of dawn.

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Day 2

Morning comes and goes in silence.

They lay heedless to the sun's motion, tangled soft sheets lit by the dreamy glow of day through the deep-set awnings and windows of their rental. Thane dozes in and out of sleep with her in his arms, heart swelling each time he wakes, awash in the scent of her hair and skin. They lie together for some time, and when she rises, he curls into the space where she had slept, unwilling to part with her residual heat.

Heat stirs in his limbs as he hears the shower kick on, his body calling for her as though he's woken up back in time, a younger, more virile man. Half in dreams, he can see her naked and robed in morning dew like a siren, and he cannot resist.

He finds her in the frameless shower, sunlight streaming through the window beside her. Water pours over her in rivulets of gleaming light, the sun illuminating the strong dunes of her back, gleaming off her shoulder blades and the curve of her spine.

Shepard, of all the people he had known, was made of sunshine. She was made of the fiery warmth and light of day, bathing him in her glory and simultaneously blinding him with effortless radiance.

And it's here, pressed up against the polished concrete wall beneath a lukewarm deluge of water, that he shows her all the ways he loves her. Shows her how, if he angles his hips just so, the last of her burdens melt away and he knows her as only he can; through the gentle, mewling gasps of an angel on the verge of tasting her own glory, manifesting the soft heat inside her as he drives himself against her deepest reaches.

He has to be mindful of his eyes. This has always been true, will always be true of all drell, but never more so than when she nears the peak of her pleasure. Shepard is possessive, perpetually communicating her need with unending motion, gripping him close as though the mere inches between them are a chasm too great to bear. He watches the way crystalline drops of water bead on her neck and shoulders, they way they catch the morning sun like diamonds, casting pinpricks of dappled light against his own scales and streak down the shape of her as she moves against him, contorted and desperate to take him deeper, to break herself upon the sanguine friction of their joining.

Her head knocks softly against the wall, her back arching, chest thrust toward him. And then she breaks. Sweet gods, how she breaks.

It's almost more than he can take. Words can never hope to say all the beautiful things she is when she comes.

He gathers each gasp, each heartbeat, every droplet of water on her parted lips and every clench of her heat around him. He drinks them all in, safely locked in the depths of his blessed memory for all his days. There is no greater gift in this life or the next.

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Day 3

Much as he would like to spend the entirety of their ‘vacation’ finding a reason to make love to her on every unoccupied surface in their rental, Shepard has made sure to include other activities in their itinerary.

He wakes to find her half dressed, smiling at him as she pulls a swimsuit top over her head. It’s a deep, forest green, with wide, high straps that criss-cross over her collarbones in an attractive triangular shape. He blinks, anchoring himself to reality as though he can't be sure she's real. And if his drowsy eyes find purchase in the alluring curve of her breasts peeking through the small cutout at the top’s center, he's certain the gods will forgive him.

The mattress dips as she sits beside him. “Come for a ride with me,” she whispers by his ear.

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Thane has often heard that human skin is easily burned by their planet’s star. He’s never quite believed it until Shepard.

He finds himself on a beach, massaging the soft cream she calls ‘sunblock’ into her back and shoulders, wondering how he could have ever gotten so lucky. His Siha, his warrior angel, so vulnerable without her armor that she wants - needs - his hands to protect her soft human skin, heals his soul with this one simple act; the intimate joy of being her protector and lover as he takes care to make sure she is thoroughly covered. The ocean breeze blows strands of her carmine hair across her forehead as she turns her head to him, smile lines deepening with delight as their eyes meet.

They pass the time in golden luxuriation, prostrating themselves beneath the radiant heat of Sol for hours, never more than an arm’s length apart, until the sun dips below the horizon and paints the sky in a myriad of hues somewhere between floral and fire.

And as the sun bows out for the evening, he bows her into the sand, lips locked and knees knocking against her own as they collapse together on soft, weatherworn sand that clings to the warmth of the sun as it bids them goodnight.

He never wants to leave this place.

Goddess above, Earth is the very image of serenity. Freer than free, his breath unburdened, his elation pours from him into her waiting mouth as they taste the salt air together. Her beach towel is a poor shield from the sand, but it hardly matters as he uncovers her skin, inch by precious inch, until she quivers beneath his touch, the sound of his name carried away by the rolling swell of the ocean.

He can taste the sea between her legs, the irresistible twang of life and salt and need that rises from her like water from a stone.

“Don't stop,” she breathes.

He couldn't - not if he wanted to. He wants this memory exponentially more than his own pleasure. A moment finer than all the collected treasures of the galaxy, etched into his mind for the rest of his days: his Siha writhing beneath his hot mouth, gripping his scalp, crying out as she tumbles again and again through ecstasy of his making.

He could die here, he thinks. Perhaps he's already dead. He nuzzles her thighs, warm and soft, as she floats down from on high. Yes, if the gods wish this to be his grave, he would gladly bow his head in thanks.

It's an hour’s trek back to their rental, but they will stay here until the ocean wind becomes too cold to endure, dunes yielding beneath them just as flesh yields to flesh and they become one.

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

Day 4

It’s the honeymoon phase, he thinks to himself, running his fingers through her hair as she lies sleeping on his chest.

Thane has been here before, in another life, waxing and waning in the warmth of his wife’s bed. Deep in a distant rational corner of his mind tries to tell him: it won’t be this way forever. But does that matter? Does it really, actually matter? Months ago he would have said that he was but a tooth on a cogwheel, destined to spin around in repeating cycles of loss, memory, and despair. But this fierce woman pursues him with all the endurance that humans are known for. Bit by bit, she chips away at the rigid crust the last ten years have borne upon him, and he is alive. Alive in ways he hasn’t known in what feels like a lifetime.

They will spend this day treating themselves to all the beauty that earth’s arid lands have to offer. From the bleached, rolling dunes of sand, to the baked and rocky landscapes dotted with life in its most hardy forms, to the golden time-carved radiance of the painted desert - Goddess preserve him. His past has never felt further away. With her by his side, his world is filled with sunlight in much the same way as Earth’s gleaming sky, now so familiar and perfect to him that he would just as easily call it home.

And when the sun’s heat is too much for her human skin to bear, he trades the scenic vistas of the American southwest for a landscape of another kind.

Her skin glows, its color deepening with each passing day in dappled patterns that betray her state of undress throughout their travels. He finds it endearing, the way her cheeks and shoulders are dusted with more freckles than he'd seen when they arrived, the way her chest and thighs remain lighter in color than the rest of her, drawing his eyes, his hands, his mouth to worship at the temple at is her body. She kneels between his knees and blesses him with the sweet heat of her mouth, stealing his breath as she tastes him, crimson hair the perfect anchor for his hands as she takes him higher and higher.

He had underestimated her appetite for him. Perhaps he'd underestimated his own appetite in turn. They haven't even made it back to their rental and he can already smell the need on her, the cramped taxi insulating and perfuming the air so thickly he can almost taste her, slick and soaking with arousal, maddeningly just out of reach but with nothing but her panties between her need and the rest of him. Powerless to the heat of her mouth, he spirals through his lust as she pleasures him, soft hands and pink lips around his shaft. Her artificial eyes gleam up at him through her mussed hair, and goddess preserve him, he’ll hack the engine himself if it’ll make this taxi go any faster.

She's fumbling at the lock as he pushes her against the wall beside their front door, covering her mouth with his. Lips locked, they stumble inside. His hand drops down to her thigh, palming at the warm skin just beneath her skirt. Shepard, in turn, tugs him in the direction of the bedroom.

He considers this, allowing himself to be led as he considers all they’ve had the pleasure of seeing today - of her radiant smile beneath her oversized sunglasses, unable to conceal the joy of her eyes from his perfect recollection. Of her freckle-dusted shoulders beneath the shadow of her sun hat. And he decides in that moment that no - as much as he adores their soft bed and its sex-scented sheets, he loves her in the daylight more.

The back patio opens with a wave of his omni-tool, and he presses her into the opulent cushions around the fire pit. She chuckles against his mouth - perhaps he's become too predictable, but it no longer matters.

There’s a kind of transcendental brilliance to this place. Some kind of inebriating mix of oxytocin and fresh air and sunshine that ignites his synapses and levitates his heart until he feels he can touch the radiant sky. He ruches up her dress, fabric sheeting off her body until she's all warm, decadent skin against a backdrop of their shed clothing. He groans inwardly at the sight of her, the shadow of her clavicles arching nearly above her soft breasts, tipped with that same aphrodisiac shade of desire that awaits between her lush thighs.

She smiles so sweetly at him, but her eyes are shaded with mischief as she opens her legs for him, teasing her folds beneath his heated gaze. He falls to his knees before her, palming her silken thighs, kissing the wet, sanguine warmth between her legs as though it were her mouth.

Her hips rise to meet him, rolling against his tongue as she brings one ankle gently against his back to guide them together, and Thane breathes out a low, pleasured groan. He loves this - the way her body talks for her, knowing full well he needs no encouragement but asking all the same, driven by biological instinct to share the most intimate parts of her humanity with him - a man from another world. Her body calls for him, beckons him, and he is both her servant and sire.

“Please, please Thane,” she whispers, hands reaching blindly for whatever parts of him she can reach.

He lifts from his place of worship with a breathy inhale, curling his arms around her thighs and hauling her bodily until she rests on the very edge of the cushion and the tip of his cock falls against her wet heat. And then he pushes forward, savoring the way her soft flesh yields to him, how her silken walls conform to every inch of his thick, ridged length, swallowing him to the hilt.

She breathes his name as he bottoms out. Takes a moment to catch her breath and then pushes up on her elbows and then her palms until she’s close enough to wrap one arm around his neck and pull him close. Thane folds an arm around her in turn, pumping in and out of her blessed heat. Thank the gods for her brilliant human flexibility.

The sun beats down on his back, his body shielding her vulnerable human skin from the worst of its rays, as he makes love to her with long, deep thrusts. He could never hope to articulate this specific kind of ecstasy - the ruddy heat of Sol crowning him with the same deep heat he seeks deep inside her.

It’s not what he would call fucking, but it’s not what he would call tender, either. It’s somewhere in between. It’s the heavy, sweet push and pull of two lovers, their minds blank of all thoughts beyond the tension, friction, heat, and pleasure that flows between them; tongues sliding together, hands clutching at skin and scales, at once desperate for release but determined not to reach it, to stay in this moment forever, unwilling to part with the sybaritic heaven they share. She locks one thigh around his hips, bracing herself with one hand so she can touch his face with the other, fingertips trailing almost too roughly against his sensitive ruby cheek as she grinds her cunt onto his heavy girth.

He needs her closer, needs her harder, consumed by the need to become one with her in that sanguine way only two lovers can. Parting from her for just a moment, he slides both knees on the cushions with her, hauling her up onto his thighs, watching for a moment as she grinds her flushed, creamy slit against his length before sinking himself back into her depths. They rock together until he’s sure beyond doubt that she’s out of her mind, blissed out and debauched before the combined heat of her sun and his desire. Until the satin sheen of sweat pooling in the hollow of her throat is too laden to cling to her skin, and she moans his name into the wide open sky. Only then does he drop his hand between them, drawing wide, steady circles around that incandescent neural bullet between her thighs.

Her voice is lost as she comes, words and sounds dying in her throat as, at last, the pleasure is too much for her body to bear. He watches beneath heavy-lidded eyes as she tenses, cries out, and breaks, as her body sings like a plucked harpstring; knowing that for those precious few seconds, she is well and truly his, and his alone.

When her mind is wiped of all thoughts but him, his embrace, his kiss, and the pleasure at his hands, he can finally let go.

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

Day 5

He wakes to the sound of music playing softly from another corner of the house. Decades old, by the sound of it, plucked notes singing on a guitar string beneath the melodic voice of a human weaving a tale of a dark desert highway. He’s heard this one before, playing over a crackling stationary radio in the cargo bay where she’d often done routine maintenance on Normandy’s ground vehicle.

Rising with a contented breath, he pads over to the common area to greet the day.

She’s wearing one of his robes, and nothing else. A breezy, cream-colored cotton garment that’s too wide in the shoulders for her more feminine frame. She lets it drop down one arm, the fabric collecting in the crook of her elbow just beneath where her hand rests on the door frame. The rest of it hangs open, gauzy fabric illuminated by the glowing sun streaming in from behind her, framing her in ethereal light. Though her face is in shadow, her artificial eyes are just bright enough to search his soul as she peers back at him.

In that moment, his Siha is more angel than warrior. She's posing for him, framing herself in a mental postcard to commemorate the effortless beauty of this place, this life, this love.

She pauses in the doorway for a good long while, as though she knows precisely what she's doing. Cocking her hip, idly running her long, calloused fingers through her hair, waiting for him to sear this image into his blessed eidetic mind for the rest of his days.

It’s so easy, wrapping her in his arms, kissing her again and again, bitter coffee on his tongue and warm sun on his face.

“I got a message from Hackett this morning,” she says softly.

The tone of her voice makes his stomach clench with unease, and he takes a moment to suppress the tremor in his throat.

“How long do we have?”

“Until tomorrow morning.”

He pulls her tight against his chest, as though by some miracle he could keep her from ever leaving the safety of his arms again. Shepard tucks her head into his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Thane.”

“Do not apologize, Siha.” Her hair is soft on his cheek, and he breathes deep as his eyes settle without focus on the rocky landscape outside her lovely picture-frame window. “This sojourn has already brought me more joy than you could ever know.”

When she kisses him, there’s a desperation in her that he’s not felt before, as though she shares his worry. That she’s been called away is unsurprising, in and of itself. But the tension in her shoulders makes his heart quake with an obdurate fear that will linger throughout what remains of their holiday.

He resolves to suppress it. If Shepard has taught him anything, it’s how work and purpose can stave off one’s demons, if only for a little while.

“What would you like for breakfast, Siha?”

She lifts her head then, and her smile is worth whatever heartache lies beyond the indefectible threshold of their abode.

He will take what he can from this moment. Reality can wait just a little longer.

#thane krios #shrios #zet writes things #my brain is broken #sorry about the typos i had to uninstall grammarly because ai is the devil #literally my head is full of lint right now #please enjoy #is this fluff?#aaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAA #mass effect fanfiction

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joylinda-hawks · 11 months ago

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First day on the set of the Word Of Honor series. ZZH, Gong Jun and the entire crew celebrated the start of filming. This is an important day for the entire team, which is documented and its course is intended to ensure success during the production of the series. Participants of this event chose casual, comfortable clothes. Similarly, ZZH chose an all-black outfit for the day. Black denim pants and a black Louis Vuitton corporate T-shirt. A simple, timeless set, but showing that ZZH chooses clothes of excellent quality even in such circumstances. Even in such a set, ZZH can look elegant. The black color additionally slimmed ZZH's muscular figure. ZZH chose dark sunglasses for this styling, I think they were supposed to hide the tiredness visible under the eyes. The day before, there was a gala dinner where everyone had a good time, and the effect of time well spent was reflected in the appearance of ZZH. However, even though he may not have had much rest, ZZH looked great. He smiled broadly. He was certainly happy that he managed to get another significant role. Maybe he wondered for a moment whether participating in a series based on a BL novel was a good choice. He was certainly aware of the limitations that would be placed on the series before it aired and wondered whether he and GJ would be up to the task. For now, he was enjoying this moment and how he had piqued GJ's interest. From many photos of ZZH, I chose the one where he is standing and clapping. He has such an enigmatic smile on his face, and his glasses barely cover his tired eyes. ZZH already has longer hair here, he prepared in advance so that there would be no need to put on a wig. Despite his fatigue, his face is radiant, ZZH there is a spark of happiness here. Perhaps he is not entirely sure whether he will be able to immediately establish a bond with GJ, who in other photos looks a bit lost, but at the same time fascinated by ZZH. ZZH is one of the few actors who easily establishes contact with other actors. That was also the case here. It was the first day of a fantastic adventure for ZZH that he will never forget.

#zhang zhehan

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illumins · 1 year ago

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CHAPTER FIVE

Red Bindings

It had been a week since Sora had met Mark, the stranger who had saved her from the oncoming car. His features had etched themselves sharply into her memory. Whenever she closed her eyes and delved into her thoughts, she swore she could feel his warmth, his name lingering longer than it should, drifting in and out like an echo.

Deep inside, she wished she had been clever enough to find a way to see him again. Damn, I should have suggested buying him a meal as a thank you, she mused to herself. However, Sora quickly shook her head, disagreeing with her own notion, and began roughly washing bits of fruit from a plate. Doesn't matter either way. I wouldn't even know what to say to him. I just would have been awkward. Turning around after drying her hands on a small rag, Sora headed to the front door of her home.

As she slipped into her shoes, Sora called out for Areum, who was still preparing herself in Sora's room. “Areum, let's go, or the flea market will close before we get there.”

Heavy footsteps echoed from above as Areum descended the stairs. “Don't worry, the place doesn't close for another hour.”

Sora scoffed, muttering to herself, “An hour isn't that long.”

Her attention now on Areum, Sora glanced over her friend's outfit. Areum always went everywhere dressed impeccably, a woman of style to say the least. Her calm, brunette curls framed her shoulders beautifully, her green emerald eyes exuding a finer beauty than andradite. Soft, pale skin accentuated her features even more. On this chilly, sunny day, Areum wore a white thigh-length dress with small rose designs scattered here and there.

Sora, on the other hand, wore a dark green mini skirt borrowed from Areum and a white shirt. Her brunette hair cascaded in layers to her upper back, and her eyes were a russet color. It wasn't that she disliked dressing nicely, it was more the time it took to do so. Nonetheless, she always tried to look presentable wherever she went, even to a flea market, where both she and Areum planned to visit on a Saturday evening.

Nana had hurriedly sent Sora out of the house with rushed words, not wanting to keep her any longer. She hesitated about leaving Nana behind on her own, even though she knew she could manage for three hours alone. Yet, in the back of her mind, worry gnawed at her. What if Nana had one of those intense coughing attacks she sometimes had? Or what if she started vomiting blood again, like before?

From behind, Areum silently watched as Sora engaged in a self-debate, her mouth forming a pout and her eyebrows furrowing. Sighing and rolling her eyes, Areum approached her and lightly slapped her shoulder. “Get out of there,” Areum pointed to Sora's head, “and let's head out.”

Sora took a deep breath and offered a reassuring smile when she felt her mind settle. “Let's go enjoy ourselves, then.”

The flea market bustled with life as people strolled around, visiting each vendor. Whether they intended to buy something or were just browsing, every vendor greeted them with a cheerful smile. Oak trees surrounded the outdoor market, their leaves rustling against each other as a gentle gust of wind swept through the area. Sheer tarps in shades of red, beige, and green covered the market, shielding shoppers from the sun's harsh rays. Acoustic bands and solo musicians played tunes intermittently. It all breathed a brighter version of life that Sora needed.

As they passed a juice vendor, Sora abruptly halted when she spotted the menu, ‘Passion Fruit.’ A radiant smile lit up her face, and she immediately grabbed Areum, who had been inspecting a display of sunglasses behind her.

“That!” Sora pointed excitedly at the drink.

“That?” Areum raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, get me that.”

Areum retrieved her wallet. “Are you sure you want to use up your one gift from me today on that?”

Sora shot her friend a jokingly stern look. “Now.”

“Okay, suit yourself,” Areum said, ordering a cup of passion fruit juice from the vendor and paying in cash. A few moments later, Sora had her sugary drink, and she took huge sips, feeling her spirits lift with each one.

Observing her, Areum laughed and continued to wander deeper into the market, her eyes scanning everything in their path. And just as before, something else caught Sora's attention.

Wandering away from Areum, Sora wove her way through the crowd until she was inches away from a bright red item. Hanging in front of her were woven bracelets adorned with small charms. The bright red one had a silver, open-winged dove and two small opal stones on each side. “Opal, like my birthstone,” Sora thought.

Stretching her arm out, she reached for it, but another hand intercepted and grabbed it before her.

Startled, Sora looked at the person who had swiped the bracelet from her grasp. Instead of getting upset, she reasoned with herself, Perhaps they saw me struggling and were just helping bring it down for me. So, she extended her hand, waiting for the beautiful jewelry to land in her palm. However, there was only emptiness and silence. She looked up at the man, who had completely ignored her, engrossed in examining the bracelet as it played between his fingers.

The man had semi-long honey-brown hair that brushed over his eyes, and he wore a loose white blouse and fitted jeans. A scent of cedarwood enveloped him, capturing Sora's attention like a lingering fragrance, something warm and familiar. Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she felt a growing annoyance. I'm right here, you ass.

Clearing her throat, she continued to hold out her hand, this time more insistently, waiting for the beautiful piece of jewelry to be returned. Yet, there was only silence.

“Yes?” the man finally asked, looking down at her.

“I was getting that bracelet first,” Sora pointed to it.

“Oh, were you?” he replied, straightening himself, his hand still playing with the bracelet.

“Yes, and you clearly saw me reaching for it.”

He took a moment to assess her, then scoffed, “Not really, you're pretty easy to overlook.”

Frustration bubbled inside her. “Give me the bracelet, please.”

He stared at her for a few moments, analyzing her irritated expression, which he had caused. “...how annoying,” he muttered to himself.

Hearing his comment, Sora crossed her arms over her chest, holding back the irritation threatening to spill over. “Do you actually want the bracelet or not?”

“Well, obviously. That's why I grabbed it,” he replied, gesturing towards Sora's passion fruit drink sitting on the vendor's wooden stand. “Your drink is going to leave a stain on the wood. Pick a better drink, too.”

Just as Sora was about to snap back at him, a familiar voice called out to her. “Sora?”

Turning back, she saw the man who had occupied her thoughts: Mark. Her irritation and anger vanished, replaced by a sense of curiosity and surprise. It's him, the one from that night.

With a newfound warmth in her demeanor and a welcoming smile, Sora greeted him, “Hey, Mark.”

“I guess you made it home safely, huh?” Mark said, making himself comfortable in the small space Sora had left.

For a moment, Sora had forgotten about the man who had taken her bracelet. However, as her gaze lingered on Mark's gentle features, the looming presence of the other man brought her back to reality. Focusing on him, she noticed that his smirk had disappeared, and his eyes remained fixed on Mark's presence. Unable to resist, she glanced up at Mark, who also maintained eye contact before turning his gaze back to her. His eyes shifted from joy to a smile.

The man scoffed one last time and dropped the bracelet onto the wooden table. “Suit yourself, nobody.”

With that, he disappeared into the crowd, weaving through the people. Sora's gaze remained fixed on the spot where she had last seen him, but a bright red bracelet interrupted her reverie as Mark dangled it in front of her.

“I'm guessing you want this?”

Taking it from him slowly, she nodded. “Yeah, but that jerk took it from me.”

Mark chuckled lightly and then hummed to himself, “Then let's make it yours.” He took out cash from his back pocket and handed the money to the vendor before pointing at the bracelet Sora held.

Realizing that Mark had just bought her the piece of jewelry, she insisted on paying him back. “Oh god, Mark, no. Here,” she reached into her bag and pulled out the same amount he had paid, “take this.”

Grabbing her clenched hand with money, he held it between both of his hands. “Pay me back with a dessert?”

Sora wanted to say yes, but her eyes kept lingering on his sweet smile and their current contact. Yes, of course! As she was about to agree to his demand, the happy tone of her friend's voice emerged from afar.

“Ooh, Sora,” Areum sing-sang.

Immediately, Sora withdrew her hand from Mark's and turned to Areum. “Yes?”

“You won't believe the guy I just met. Handsome as hell,” she halted abruptly upon spotting Mark next to Sora.

“And he is?” Areum inquired.

Sora offered a sheepish smile. “This is Mark.”

“Oh, well, hi, Mark,” Areum greeted.

Mark extended his hand for a handshake. “Nice to meet you, Sora's friend.”

“Areum,” Sora whispered to him.

“Ah, nice to meet you, Areum,” he corrected himself.

Mark scanned the market as if he were searching for something or someone, which caught Sora's attention. Just before excusing himself, he turned to Sora one last time.

“Every Cafe at 6:00 pm on Tuesday?”

This time, Sora beamed brightly and nodded. “Yes.”

“Alright, nice seeing you again.”

As he walked away, Sora waved him off, dismissing the intrigued looks Areum was giving her.

“Well, this is interesting,” Areum smirked.

#kpop fanfic #kpop ff #kpop au #kpop vampire au #haechan au #haechan vampire #vampire haechan #haechan fanfic #haechan #mark lee #mark fanfic #nightdoveseries #illumins

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bitchinbarzal · 2 years ago

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what are some of your big sister recommendations for products girl? You literally radiant big sister energy

firstly, appreciate that so much it means a lot 🥹🫶🏼

okay so like I could delve into a lot of products in different sub sections but I’ll try keep it as brief as possible! I don’t like clutter therefore I try buy with purpose I buy more expensive stuff for quality over cheaper stuff for quantity.

travel:

I travel a ton so good suitcases are a must!

I use the black American tourister Bon Air cases which are HERE however they’re hella expensive on the website I got mine at Costco so check there!

While travelling I use my beats headphones to block out crying children and annoying boyfriends which are HERE they are the best for noise cancelling you do not need the apple ones.

there’s more under the cut 🫶🏼🤍

athleisure & clothes:

I live & breathe by sketchers… call me old but I LOVE THEM. I’m on my feet a lot when I work in sports events like if I’m at a racetrack I’m on my feet 4am-11pm that’s a lot and on ice you need good shoes so these are my faves:

ultra flex 3.0

tough talk

other shoes I just buy from anywhere I know the quality is good, name brands don’t bother me. I have wide feet so things like vans & converse aren’t really my style because they break so easy.

fabletics have amazing leggings if like lululemon is not in your budget! They do a new joiners deal on leggings just remember to cancel your membership or you’ll be charged next month!

I get the define Powerhold high waisted 7/8 in short because I’m 5’6 and I prefer to see my ankle in trousers!

lululemon wundertrain high waist are good too!

lululemon align tank & as I said before this makes ur boobs look great

all of my hoodies are men’s from abercrombie or my own brand which isn’t live yet so watch this space all my sports apparel lovers

jeans are all curve love from abercrombie

bodysuits I live and breathe are either Abercrombie or Skims

I also get my daily leggings from love leggings

accessories;

sunglasses are a massive must especially if you drive! I have a massive fat head which means my glasses need to be quite wide so I got mine from Dolce & Gabbana

My jewelry comes from a bunch of different places but some notable ones

my hockey number necklace from M Jewelrs

my name bracelet is from Etsy I also ordered one with my last name because I love it so much

Earrings I get from any worthy jewelry store it doesn��t need to be expensive.

makeup;

not all of my makeup but my die for products!

concealer - TEINT IDOLE ULTRA WEAR ALL OVER CONCEALER

Powder - Huda Beauty easy bake

Eyeshadow - morphe 9t

Contour/Bronzing - Pinkhoney BFF face frosting just a cheaper version of Chanel!

skincare;

I had horrible cystic acne so I try not to overwhelm my skin with products! With that being said I use:

face wash: either regular dove soap bar or eucerin dermatoclean

toner: eucerin dematoclean toner

Eye cream: ole henrikson banana bright eyecream

Vitamin c serum: ole henrikson vitamin c

Moisturisers: Keihls ultra facial cream - if you can try get this out of duty free as it’s 1/2 the price! I get mine when I fly into Paris or Toronto or I get my mans to bring me it from Detroit airport

I also use eucerin hyalaron-filler day and night cream

Lip balm: eucerin acute lip balm

for my body I use all of the eucerin urearepair products

I also use their sunscreen everyday

haircare;

I use olaplex EVERYTHING shampoo, conditioner, the conditioning treatment

I use fanola purple shampoo

and color wow styling products like the dreamcoat etc.

scents:

perfume:

ariana grande cloud is the best smelling thing ever people hug me just to smell it & the intense one

Mugler angel

these sprays from bath & body works

warm vanilla sugar

vanilla bean noel

#big sister talks

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themurphyzone · 4 years ago

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PatB Nova Ch 8

Ch 8: Radiant

It’s been a long time since I updated this fic. Thanks for your patience!

FFN Link, AO3 Link

Brain scrambled off Pinky as soon as he was able to move. Though part of Pinky wished the moment had lasted longer, he was happy that his best friend was okay after that mean ol’ Mr. Lamont squished him.

Brushing off the dust from his favorite pair of denim shorts, Pinky hopped to his feet like a piece of fresh popcorn. Next to him, Brain wiped the lens of his sunglasses on the inside of his shirt and slipped them over his eyes. He ran his fingers over his antennae to get the kinks out.

“Are your hands okay?” Pinky asked, grabbing Brain’s hands to make sure there was no bleeding or bruising or barbecuing. “Your elbows? Kidneys? Crookedy tail?”

“I’m fine. In case your addled mind can’t tell, no extremities are out of place and my internal organs have remained internal,” Brain grumbled. He turned his attention to the frightened worker, who was scrambling to pick up the scattered items Mr. Lamont had rudely thrown to the floor. “As for you, your inaction almost cost me my guide! Have you no shame?”

The worker, whose name was Conner according to the spiffy name tag on his chest, glared at Brain and angrily threw a baseball cap into the box. “And risk my job here? No thank you! What were you thinking, talking to Mr. Lamont like that? You trying to get us all in trouble?”

Brain scowled and folded his arms. “I will speak to Mr. Lamont however I desire. He’s hardly different from any other inhabitant.”

“If you want his lawyers ripping every cent out of your body, that’s on you,” Conner snorted. He stood up and nudged the box behind the podium with his foot. “But leave the rest of us out of it. Just what rock have you been living under if you’ve never heard of him anyway?”

Brain’s fur started to bristle, and Pinky nudged him aside. “Sorry about my friend,” he said to the worker. “He’s new here. Poit! They don’t even have blueberry bagels where he’s from, you know.”

“Yes, truly scandalous,” Brain scoffed. Though Pinky figured he really did wish he’d been introduced to the joys of bagels sooner.

For a moment, Conner was silent, but he accepted the explanation with a sigh. “Well, guess I can cut you some slack then,” he muttered. Brain tapped his foot impatiently, and Conner plopped into his chair behind the podium. “You just backtalked the guy who owns a good chunk of the city, including the mall. Displease him in any way and he goes complaining to the boss, then it’s a reprimand or a firing, and nobody here can afford that.”

Come to think of it, he might’ve seen Mr. Lamont’s face on the local news while channel surfing, but it could’ve easily been a large dust bunny or a mustard stain as well. He wasn’t sure which.

Oh well.

Then Pinky noticed a glint of light on Conner’s right hand. Conner ran his hand down his face, revealing a simple silvery band on his ring finger.

“I like your ring!” Pinky exclaimed. “Very pretty!”

Conner smiled sheepishly, a light blush over his cheeks. “Heh, thanks. Got married a month ago. Not really on the expensive side, but-”

“-but I bet you love each other very much!” Pinky said, giving Brain a nudge. “What do you think, Brain? Isn’t it just lovely?”

“Very,” Brain grunted, slapping Pinky’s hand off his shoulder.

Very extremely completely romantic indeed! Exchanging vows, slipping the rings on, the kissing and the cheering and the I do’s! Mounds of flowers and lots of food and dancing! And he couldn’t forget the bouquet toss! How could he forget the bouquet toss?

A sharp tug of his wrist brought him back to reality.

“This has been most enlightening,” Brain said, turning his back on Conner. “However, you have your objectives and we have ours. We’ll be on our way. Come, Pinky.”

As Brain led him back to the crowded parts of the mall, Pinky turned and waved to Conner. “Bye!” he called. “Have a nice day!”

Conner waved back, then he looked down and rifled through a stack of paper on the podium. “Hold on a sec!” he shouted, snatching up two small papers and running towards them. He had a much longer stride than them, so it only took seconds to catch up before they could rejoin the main walkway.

Pinky stopped in his tracks. Brain’s grumpy stomps came to a halt, but he wasn’t happy about the delay. His fingers tensed around Pinky’s wrist.

“I was saving these promotional coupons for some other time, but I figured I owed you for the trouble,” Conner explained, handing the coupons to Pinky. “Besides, it’s Free Burger Day. Might as well get the full American experience with your friend there.”

Reading through the info on both coupons, Pinky practically felt his eyeballs pop out of their sockets Looney Tunes style. Free cheeseburgers with a side of French fries? His tummy rumbled with hunger, and oh, where were his manners?

“Thanks so much!” Pinky exclaimed, hooking his arm around Brain’s, who made a surprised noise as he tried to read the coupons himself. He didn’t have the same excited reaction though. “Bye, Conner!”

With the coupons and Brain in hand, Pinky took off, darting around people’s feet, shopping bags, and the occasional stroller.

Brain never had fast food before either! Sure, it could be unhealthy, but it was so delicious all the same! Besides, the wheel would help get rid of all the bad cholesterol anyway.

“Wait ‘til you see the food court, Brain! They’ve got all sorts of things there! I wish you could try them all, but we need money for that and Conner was so very nice to give us coupons for free burgers!” Pinky shouted above all the noise. “Oh, watch out for that gumball machine!”

“What?” Brain yelled back. He was looking down, short legs trying to match Pinky’s speed, and not watching where he was going. He slammed into the base of a gumball machine, wobbling back and forth as if he was following the movement of the pretty swirling stars that appeared whenever one was dizzy. Mumbling something in Selenian, he nearly wobbled into the path of a kid’s sneaker.

Pinky tucked the coupons under one arm and dragged Brain away before he was accidentally squashed again.

“Sorry, Brain,” Pinky said once Brain shook enough of the dizziness away to level a glare at him. Even with the sunglasses’ dark tint, Pinky felt those pink eyes boring into him. “I’ll slow down a bit?”

“See that you do,” Brain replied, shoving his hands into his denim pockets. “And no more hand-holding. As one of the future rulers of this world, I refuse to allow the public to see me being carted around like a dead weight.”

“How can a weight be dead if it wasn’t alive to begin with?” Pinky asked.

Brain shrugged. “I don’t know, Pinky. You seem to lug the one inside your head around just fine.”

Pinky rocked back and forth on his heels, preening at the praise. Oh, it was so nice for Brain to take notice of all the weightlifting he did with his batteries!

Brain didn’t comment, gaze fixed on a nearby giant map of the mall. Pinky couldn’t help but wonder what color Brain liked most on the map. He liked the light blue himself, and the green and pink and yellow too. He couldn’t leave out any of the colors. They were all so pretty.

“We’ll have to figure out a different way to obtain money. Not to mention contacting Snowball,” Brain said. “I hope you have ideas, Pinky. Though I reserve the right to take that statement back any time.”

Pinky held up the coupons. In truth, he really couldn’t think about anything but lunch. His stomach growled at the very thought of yummy burgers and fries!

“Food court?” he said hopefully. “This is your first time at a mall, Brain. What mall visit is complete without eating at the food court?”

Brain rubbed his temples, ears falling slightly in annoyance. “If we go, will you stop thinking with your stomach?”

“Nope!” Pinky said proudly. How could he possibly turn down a free burger? “ C’mon, food court’s on the second floor! Last one there’s a purple pickled egg!”

o-o-o-o-o

They took the elevator up, since it was much safer than the escalator and they wouldn’t have to scramble up a flight of stairs. Besides, the elevator was next to a pretty wishing fountain. The water was a beautiful light blue, a stone dolphin spewing water several feet into the air so that anyone nearby was showered with a fine mist.

The mice tucked themselves into a back corner, where the large glass window provided a clear view of people tossing their pennies into the fountain. They kept their tails close so that a stroller’s back wheels didn’t run them over in the tight space.

A young girl tossed a penny into a high arc, and it splashed down near the dolphin centerpiece.

“Narf! What a throw! Whatever she wishes for, it’s gonna come true for sure!” Pinky exclaimed as the elevator started to move. The family they shared the elevator with chatted among themselves, the adults facing forward while the boy lifted the cover of the stroller and made funny faces to the baby inside.

They seemed happy.

Like Mom and Papa when they chased each other around the cage. He hadn’t heard from Sis in a while either. He really oughta write back sometime.

“Pinky,” Brain said, cutting into his thoughts. He seemed uncomfortable, though Pinky wasn’t sure why. Maybe Brain just wasn’t used to elevators. “I don’t see how tossing something into a body of water can result in a wish coming true.”

“It can if you wish all your heart,” Pinky said. “That’s how you go to Dragon Land.”

“Satellite scans have revealed no such country named Dragon Land on this planet.” Brain looked away as the elevator came to a stop. The doors opened, and the humans piled out first. He and Brain followed, and the empty space behind them was quickly filled with other mallgoers. “Assuming we’re at our destination, it’s probably best for you to think with your stomach for a while.”

The scents of delicious food filled the air, and the scent trail of an extra cheesy pizza slice was especially strong. Pinky inhaled deeply, his stomach grumbling just like Brain.

“But you said-“

Brain watched somebody throw away a styrofoam container. “Only until we’re finished with the food court. Anyway, you’ve…um, well you’ve got a leak on your face.”

“Oh, not sure how that happened. I don’t remember eating leeks. Poit,” Pinky said, wiping away the leeks with the back of his hand. The skin was a little damp when he looked again.

Oh. Not leeks then. They were tears.

Thinking about his family usually did that to him.

Just say narf.

He took a deep breath.

“We should procure ourselves a place to sit,” Brain suggested. He didn’t seem too keen on the lunch crowd. “Preferably a secluded area away from all this noise pollution.”

“Narf! I think there’s a few tables over there.” Pinky pointed to a chair that stuck out from behind a sub sandwich shop.

Surely enough, the tables were unoccupied when they went over to investigate.

A brief smile flitted across Brain’s face as he climbed onto the table. “Good work, Pinky,” he said as he sat down, feet swinging over the edge. “With my current observations, you have to exchange those coupons for our meals, correct?”

Pinky nodded.

“In that case, you grab our food and I’ll remain here.”

“It’s gonna take a little time, Brain,” Pinky admitted. The line for the burger place was at least ten people. Or one hundred. It was hard to tell from this distance. “You sure you don’t wanna stand in line with me?”

“I’ve been trampled once and had many near-misses today.” Brain crossed his arms. “I’m long overdue for some peace so I may ponder quietly to myself.”

The coupons crinkled slightly in Pinky’s hands. Brain couldn’t move with squished antennae, and his accidental crash into the gumball machine probably didn’t do him any favors. And of course there was the crash landing from just a few days ago.

Being alone again was…well, after meeting Brain he just couldn’t imagine it anymore. Pharfignewton was lovely and kind and fast, but she couldn’t live in the lab and he couldn’t live in the stables.

“If you say so.” Pinky turned to leave, then looked over his shoulder at Brain, who was lying on his back with his sunglasses still in position. He didn’t think they’d be very comfortable though. “Brain?”

“What?” Brain snapped.

“You’ll…you’ll still be here when I get back, right?” Pinky asked.

“I already told you, Pinky. I’m staying put. Now kindly allow me time to plan our next move.”

Pinky’s tail perked, and with a little more confidence and a skip in his step, he joined the burger line. Though the line was long, he didn’t mind. The long wait would just make the burgers tastier. He could already taste the melted cheese and sweet tomatoes.

o-o-o-o-o

Ten minutes later, Pinky was only halfway to the counter. He tried to make small talk with the woman behind him, but she was too busy playing Candy Crush on her phone to hold a conversation. Then he tried to talk to the guy in front of him, but he had a headset on, the volume loud enough for everyone in earshot.

While Pinky wasn’t familiar with the punk rock scene, he thought the beat was pretty good, and his foot tapped along to the music.

Another five minutes passed. Pinky was fifth in line, a gap between him and Headset Guy open so people could pass through easily.

He was close enough to the counter that he could easily hear the cashier explaining to a customer that one of the grills had gone out and they could only cook so much at a time. Was that all? Pinky didn’t see why she had to apologize for something she couldn’t help.

Pinky hummed quietly, lost in the music, occasionally glancing at the area where Brain said he’d be. Though he’d hoped Brain would keep him company in line, he knew Brain needed his rest too. It would do wonders for his dark bags and stress lines.

A high-pitched thwap-thwap-thwap made his ear flick. At first, he thought it was just an odd beat in Headset Guy’s music, but he turned it down so he could place his order. The noise continued, even when Pinky batted his ear like he was trying to clear water from his head. Something tiny and dark flitted around in the corner of his vision. Pinky looked up.

Next to the burger shop’s sign, a small black camera hovered with spinny propellors. It looked a lot like the camera that had bopped him in the head when he first met Brain. Maybe it was the same brand?

It had a silver ‘NS’ emblazoned on its side. Pinky couldn’t think of any logo that used NS.

Oh, what if it was taking pictures? He wanted to look his best! Quickly, he adjusted the hem of his lavender blouse and posed like a supermodel walking down the red carpet. His blouse was a lovely piece of clothing after all.

The lens focused once, twice, then quickly zoomed towards the high ceiling and out of sight.

Maybe he should’ve worn a matching necklace.

“Next,” the cashier said as Headset Guy picked up his order and walked away.

His turn now! Pinky rolled up the coupons and tucked them under his arm, then climbed up a pole and onto the counter surface.

“Two burgers and fries please,” Pinky said to the cashier, whose smile didn’t reach her eyes. He slid the coupons over, and she tossed them onto a pile from previous customers. “And two waters as well. Oh, could I get those both in the kiddie cups? I really like the colors on those.”

The kiddie cups were a lovely shade of sunshine yellow with happy kiddos on them. He thought they looked nice.

The cashier moved away without a word, mechanically filling up two colorful cups with ice and water and covering them with bright red lids. She left them by the water machine and went into the back, coming out with an almost bursting paper bag. Then she loaded it onto a paper-lined tray and pushed it towards Pinky, tossing two straws, a few ketchup packets, and a set of brown napkins onto the tray.

“Enjoy,” she mumbled.

“Thanks!” Pinky grinned. “Oh, the waters are by the machine thingy. Troz!”

The cashier marched over to the cups, snatching them up and slamming them onto the tray with a loud bang that Pinky nearly fell off the counter in surprise. “Sorry…” she whispered, eyes downcast to the floor.

“It happens! Don’t worry. Thanks for your help!” Pinky said, but his reassurance didn’t seem to mean anything to her. She just stood there, ignoring the line’s shouts to get a move on. The woman behind Pinky didn’t seem to notice anything, her thumbs tapping away on her phone.

Pinky dragged the tray to the edge, only to run into a new problem. If he pushed the tray off, he would spill everything. And he didn’t want to drag the tray to the table either. That was just unsanitary.

“Oh…um…could you help me with the tray please?” Pinky asked. The cashier didn’t seem to notice. Pinky rubbed his neck, scuffing his foot against a taped down paper menu on the counter. “Sorry. Poit.”

Maybe one of the other mallgoers would help out? Pinky called for help to the people behind him, but nobody wanted to give up their place in line or just hadn’t heard him at all.

“Kelsey! What’s going on out there?” Another worker stomped up to the front, but when Kelsey didn’t reply, her stormy expression was quickly replaced with concern. She was an older woman with hair in a tight bun, and she struck Pinky as someone that shouldn’t be messed with. “Oh. You need a moment?”

Kelsey shook her head, staring vacantly at the wall. “Just one of those days, Paula. I’ll be fine.”

She was definitely not okay though.

“You can take a moment if you want to. I don’t mind,” Pinky chimed in.

“What the little guy said,” Paula agreed, then shot Pinky a curious glance. “Ya need tray help? Seems a bit heavy for ya.”

Pinky nodded, stepping onto the paper-lined tray. “If you don’t mind.”

“Alright,” Paula clapped her hands, then picked up the tray and put it into Kelsey’s hands. “Kelsey, help this little guy out, then freshen up in the restroom.”

“What?” Kelsey yelped, her eyes widening to an almost comical degree. “Are you crazy? If Derek finds out-“

Paula shrugged. “Derek’s too busy cozying up to the rich jerk to ‘manage’ right now. And if he does turn up, I’ll cover ya.”

With that, she shoved Kelsey out of the workers’ area and took over her place as cashier, handling orders with ruthless efficiency.

“Narrrrf, she’s amazing,” Pinky said in awe.

“Better manager than Derek. Even without it being official,” Kelsey sighed in resignation. “Which way?”

Pinky pointed straight ahead. “Behind the sub shop. This is the first time my friend’s ever eaten a burger. I bet he’s just gonna love these!”

Kelsey didn’t press for details. She just walked ahead, balancing the tray in her hand and trying to not bump into people.

They found Brain curled up on the table, Pinky’s tail wagging on the cute little sight. Brain’s chest rose and fell, but even when Kelsey set the tray down, he didn’t respond.

Pinky was about to scold him for being rude, then he heard a high-pitched whistling sound.

He giggled. Brain was asleep and snoring again.

Though he really needed to learn not to sleep with sunglasses on. His fur would get all smushed.

“Hey…sorry I snapped at you. And thanks.” Kelsey’s eyes were watery, and she dabbed at them with the back of her hand, trying to smile anyway.

“It’s okay!” Pinky said. “Thanks for the help. Now get yourself cleaned up and treat yourself to something nice later!”

Kelsey gave him a thumbs up and walked away.

Pinky waved goodbye until she was gone, then hopped out of the tray and gently shook Brain’s shoulders.

“Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey!” Pinky sang. “Before all the good eggs are gone and we’re just left with a pile of mush, Brain!”

Brain muttered something that could’ve been either ‘go away, Pinky’ or ‘lo mein, Binky’. Lo mein was definitely going on the list of foods Brain had to try. Really, how could Pinky have forgotten Chinese food of all things? It was so obvious now that he thought about it!

Instead of waking up, Brain rolled over and scratched his side.

Pinky put his hands on his hips. He needed to take more drastic measures.

Crouching on all fours, Pinky slowly crept up to Brain, approaching him from the front to avoid being zapped by the tail orb.

Closer…just a little closer…perfect. Brain was completely unaware.

Pinky tensed his muscles, and on the count of one, two, and narf, he pounced.

“SCRIK!” Brain swore as Pinky’s hands landed on his chest. With a startled gasp, he sat up quickly, the sunglasses pushed up to his large forehead. The sudden motion made Pinky lose his balance, his head landing in Brain’s lap.

“Afternoon, Sleeping Beauty!” Pinky grinned up at his best friend.

Brain’s cheeks reddened. He pushed Pinky off, quickly hiding his eyes behind his sunglasses. He folded his arms grumpily. “I wasn’t sleeping. I was sleep-pondering. There’s a difference.”

“What’s the difference?” Pinky asked. He hopped to his feet and skipped over to the tray.

“It’s too…complicated for your feeble mind to comprehend, I’m afraid,” Brain replied. He didn’t look Pinky in the eye, focusing on the tiny print on a ketchup packet instead. “Yes. Very complicated.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Pinky nodded. He tipped the bag onto its side, dragging the burgers out by their wrappers. “You don’t know what the difference is either, do you?”

Caught in his little fib, Brain went silent.

He ignored Pinky and unfolded one of the burger wrappers, tearing off a small piece of the bun and sampling it. Then he shrugged. Not bad, but not spectacular either. But it was the inside part of the burger that really counted.

Pinky brought out both cartons of French fries, popping a small one into his mouth. Crunchy and salty, just how fries were supposed to be.

Since the cups were bigger than both of them, Brain unwrapped the straws and punctured the lids with one end while Pinky tilted and held them in place.

Their little dining setup was complete. Though they didn’t have any scented candles, Pinky pretended there was a vanilla-scented one next to the tray, its sweet fragrance wafting in the air.

Licking his lips, Pinky unwrapped his burger and took a large chomp out of it. The taste of cheese, beef, and tomatoes flooded his mouth. “Narrrrf,” he hummed in delight, wiping away a spot of mustard on his chin. “How’s yours, Brain?”

Brain had only eaten part of the top bun so far. Instead, he pulled the contents out one at a time and took small, cautious bites. He didn’t seem to mind the mustard, and most of the ingredients he seemed to like just fine. He was indifferent to the lettuce.

Then he got his first taste of a pickle, and his antennae orbs sparked violently. Pinky laughed at the comically fast speed Brain spat out a pile of green mush. He snatched up a napkin and wiped his tongue on it, sounding very much like a cat hacking up a hairball.

“Drink some water. It’ll get rid of it faster than the napkin. And also cause you’re just gonna wind up eating whatever napkins are made out of. Trust me. You don’t want that,” Pinky suggested.

Brain took his advice, making loud slurping noises with his straw, then finally calmed down.

“Cease your laughter, Pinky,” Brain grumbled as he removed the rest of the pickles from his burger and threw them in Pinky’s direction. They landed next to Pinky’s fries. “And take these disgusting so-called edibles off my hands.”

“Will do!” Pinky tossed two pickles into his mouth. “Hey, so what’s the grossest food they had on New Selene? There’s gotta be something too icky for us poor little Earthlings to understand!”

Brain hesitated. “Perhaps I shouldn’t say. I’d hate to spoil your abnormally large appetite.”

“Never in a million billion eight hundred trozillion years!” Pinky gasped, putting a hand over his heart. He’d always wanted to do that! It was so much fun being dramatically offended.

“If you insist. But I warned you, so don’t try to claim otherwise,” Brain said.

Pinky tore open a ketchup packet and squirted it onto the burger wrapper, then motioned for Brain to continue. Brain slid his ketchup packets over to Pinky. There were a lot of things that went on French fries, but Brain seemed to like them plain.

“Cuisine on the colony was made to be sustainable for long periods of time. Because survival was more valued, flavors and variability were often lacking. I would describe food on New Selene as more bland than outright disgusting,” Brain explained. “But to humor your question, there’s an aquatic species called dholmuth from the imperial planet which can be caught and used for food. However, it’s only attempted by the foolish or the desperate. No sane being wants to deal with a delicacy that smells like the unholy combination of fuel exhaust and rotting corpses.”

Pinky wrinkled his nose.

Brain shrugged. “I warned you.”

“Alrighty, so what’s the most delicious, positively scrumptious thing you ever ate in space?” Pinky asked.

“Rusuphri,” Brain said without hesitation. “They were in the bag you found with me.”

He looked away, the half-eaten French fry in his hand wilting along with his posture.

Pinky snapped his fingers in recognition. “Right! The blue star candies! They were very sweet. I get why you like them so much!”

“Actually, they’re seeds, not candy, though I understand how…wait, how do you know they taste sweet?” Brain asked suspiciously. “Did you eat any from the bag?”

There was a dangerous edge in his voice.

“I…well, I ate a few that got scattered around the ship before I found you. It was a bit of a mess, really. But I never touched the bag. Honest!” Pinky held up his hands. “I’m sorry if they were important to you.”

Should he have not done that? There were so many, and they seemed so tasty. And the walk back from seeing Pharfignewton off had left him a little peckish, so he’d given into his hunger. Biting his lip, Pinky waited for the scolding that was sure to come.

Brain pushed his burger away.

It was only half-eaten.

“…Snowball found those rusuphri bags just before our departure from New Selene,” Brain said quietly. “I was going to split the remaining one with him upon our reunion. My apologies for accusing you.”

“You’re excused,” Pinky said, sighing in relief. He wasn’t going to lose his best friend over his own stupid actions. He was just grateful for that.

Pinky finished off his burger, licking the last bits of mustard off his fingers. He started on his remaining fries while Brain cleaned his hands with a napkin.

“Brain, aren’t you gonna eat the rest?” Pinky asked. “I didn’t make your tummy upset with me too, right?”

“Enough with your ridiculous notions, Pinky.” Brain shook his head, reclining against the tray’s raised edge. One hand rested across his pudgy stomach, rubbing a soothing circle into it. “I can’t eat anymore. That’s all. There was simply too much for just one sitting.”

Pinky made a loud slurping noise with his straw as he sipped his drink. “Zort! Really? This was just a small burger! Good thing they weren’t putting the largest ones on the coupon, huh?”

“Small?” Brain’s brow lifted in disbelief. “How does one categorize this meal as small?”

Pinky pointed to a man eating a burger that was triple the size of what they had. “Ooh, so that’s the triple bacon cheeseburger,” Pinky said. It had been advertised on TV a lot as a new addition to the menu. “Looks tasty.”

Brain’s mouth flopped open, like he’d never seen food that large in his life. “Your portion sizes are messed up.”

“Thanks. It’s an American staple. Just like burgers!” Pinky exclaimed. “If you’re not gonna eat the rest, can I have it?”

Brain made no motion to stop him, so Pinky figured it was okay to take the rest. He squirted ketchup onto the bun of the half-eaten burger and dug in.

“Should I be concerned over the state of your stomach later?” Brain asked.

“Don’t worry, Brain! I can handle it easy-peasy!” he tried to say, but it came out very muffled and with bits of tomato juice spraying from the side of his mouth.

“Clearly, your stomach is not your only vital organ that bears worrying about.”

o-o-o-o-o

Once they recovered from full stomachs, they went back to finding a hat for a snowball—no wait, that wasn’t right—finding a hat for himself and Snowball for Brain. But first, they had to stop in the play area!

It was filled with plastic structures of rocks, boats, fish, and water. There was even a lighthouse and a beach! All right here in the local mall! And of course there were the screaming, playful toddlers and parents who just seemed plain bored and weren’t paying any attention to their charges.

“La-la-la-la! Don’t you wanna play too, Brain? Look, I’m king of the world! Narf!” Pinky stood atop the highest point of a plastic blue tugboat, spreading his arms wide and leaning forward. He could just feel the wind and seaspray in his face!

“Pinky, you’re posing on a child’s imitation of aquatic transport.” Brain seemed just as zoned out as the human adults around him. “And don’t mock my rightful title with your childish playtime.”

“I’m not mocking, Brain,” Pinky said. “King of the world’s just the name of this pose!”

That seemed to get Brain’s attention. He slid off the bench, barely dodging a blonde-haired toddler who seemed intent on escaping the play area altogether.

“Is that a common pose for Terran royalty?” Brain asked. He climbed up the side of the tugboat, slipping a little as he tried to grasp its smooth surface. Pinky hopped down from his perch next to the little red steam whistle and offered his hand to Brain.

After a moment’s hesitation, he took it and Pinky hauled him up.

“Not really, but it’s pretty fun to do!” Pinky said.

Brain stood at Pinky’s former place by the plastic steam whistle, and Pinky balanced in the narrow space behind him.

“It’s protocol to stand in the highest position so that one may assert superiority over the population,” Brain declared.

“Oh, that’s very good, Brain!” Pinky exclaimed. At his praise, Brain’s antennae perked. “Now spread your arms out wide like you’re giving the air a great big hug!”

Slowly, Brain spread his arms out. “And what purpose does this serve?”

“To make you look more royal of course!” Pinky said. “Though you’re more off-white in this lighting than royal blue.”

The corner of Brain’s mouth quirked up. Yes, now he saw the appeal too!

“Behold, I am the Brain! One of the future mighty kings of this world!” the shorter mouse announced, arms held triumphantly out to his sides. Below them, the children paid no mind and continued playing. The adults didn’t care either.

Well, if they didn’t know how awesome his friend was, then he’d just have to show them!

Far beyond the skylight, a cloud moved away from the sun, a beam of light shining down just in front of them. It was perfect timing!

Pinky lifted a startled Brain beneath his outstretched arms, hoisting him as high as he could.

“IT’S THE CIRRRRRRRCLE OF LIFE!” Pinky belted out.

“UNHAND ME AT ONCE, PINKY!” Brain screamed, his feet kicking out in little circles. He suddenly lunged to the right, and he and Pinky tumbled off the tugboat.

They collided painfully with the ground. Shaking the tingly feeling away from his lower jaw, Pinky cleared the swirling stars from his vision. Brain had landed a few inches away, face-first. He groaned as he lifted his head, the left lens of his sunglasses popping out.

“This pain will surely linger,” Brain muttered. He took off the ruined sunglasses and set it aside, where it was immediately snatched up a young boy, who ran off cackling with the broken frame on the bridge of his nose. “You’ve had your fun, Pinky. It’s time we got back to-“

A faraway melody made Pinky’s ears twitch. It wasn’t coming from the play area. Then a woman started to sing about breaking up with her boyfriend, though Pinky couldn’t place the specific song. There were a lot of boyfriend and breakup songs out there.

“-and we haven’t been to the third floor yet. Perhaps there will be something of value—where’s that horrible racket coming from?” Brain scowled as the woman hit a high note that was far beyond her voice range.

But she sounded like she was having fun, and that was the most important element in karaoke!

“That’s no tennis racket, Brain! That’s karaoke!” Unable to contain himself, Pinky tucked Brain under his arm and shot off like a rocket, following the trail of music to its source, which turned out to be an electronics store.

Upon seeing all the technology behind glass, Brain’s pink eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, and his demands to be released stopped instantly.

“I can’t believe you have all these devices lying around like this…” he murmured. “It pales in comparison to Selenian tech of course, but this is much more advanced than what I was expecting.”

As much as Pinky loved playing with the apps, they were here for another reason entirely. Namely, the TV screen displaying a karaoke program just a short distance away from the entrance.

The woman who’d been singing earlier set the microphone on its stand and walked away, leaving the area up for grabs. Pinky set Brain down, and he darted away, climbing up a display table. His face scrunched up in pondering mode as he examined a smartphone much larger than he was.

Scrambling up to the microphone, Pinky spotted an open songbook nearby with a ginormous list of songs from just about every decade. Egad, there were a lot of options! How could he choose just one?

Instead of flipping through every page, Pinky closed his eyes and shut the songbook. Then he opened it to a random page, and placed his finger on a spot without peeking.

There. He’d sing whatever song this was.

He opened his eyes.

“AHHHHHH! BRAIN, I GOT A GOOD ONE!” Pinky screamed. Brain’s ears flicked in irritation, but Pinky paid no mind and inputted the matching number onto the microphone buttons. Since the mike was too big for him to hold, he swiveled it down to his level.

Best part was that his hands were free for dancing!

He hit the start button, his hips and tail swaying along to the catchy opening riff.

Ooh, see that girl! Watch that scene!

Diggin’ the dancing queen!

Pinky’s foot tapped in rhythm, and he lost himself to the melody.

He was at prom, and his all his friends were cheering him as he made his debut on the dance floor. Low lighting, a shining disco ball spinning above and creating a swirl of light circles around the venue. Everyone in handsome tuxedos and gorgeous dresses, some dancing, some eating at the buffet, and some were wallflowers shyly seeking out a dance.

He wore a beautiful floor-length pink dress, the skirt sweeping around with every graceful movement he made. A silver necklace rested just above the V-neck, a white corsage around his left wrist. And he felt absolutely beautiful.

He danced, and everyone was mesmerized. Everyone wanted to dance alongside him, and he turned no request down, because prom night was meant to be fun and he wanted to make everyone happy!

There was one wallflower who didn’t join in though. Nobody asked him to dance, and he made no invitations either. Just standing there with his arms folded against his chest. But his tuxedo was nicely pressed, a corsage pinned to his chest.

Pinky wanted to make this night magical for him too.

So he invited Brain to dance.

Brain stared at Pinky’s inviting hand. He blushed, slowly placing his hand in Pinky’s.

And dance they did. They commanded all the attention.

Pinky’s graceful movements contrasted with Brain’s sharper ones. The spotlight was on them. Their audience was captivated.

They were called to the stage. And they were crowned king and queen of the dance.

Brain gave him a genuine smile, and together they danced in celebration.

o-o-o-o-o

He finished the song to raucous applause. When Pinky opened his eyes, he was surrounded by a crowd of people on all sides. They cheered loudly and started calling for song requests. One man took off his blue baseball cap and set it upside down next to Pinky, and the audience tossed in dollar bills and quarters.

“Egad, a hat for me?” Pinky wiped a happy tear away, flicking his hand down bashfully. “You shouldn’t have! But as my thanks for being such a lovely group, how ‘bout some song requests?”

Over the next fifteen minutes, he performed Footloose, Don’t Stop Believin’, and Accidentally in Love.

He’d drawn Brain’s attention by the end of the third song. With some difficulty, he squeezed through the packed audience and climbed up the stand where Pinky stood.

Oh, maybe they could duet together! That would just be lovely! Pinky flipped through the songbook for any duets, but Brain grabbed his snout and yanked him down before he could decide.

“Pinky, this isn’t getting us any closer to our goal!” Brain snapped. “We can’t laze about here all afternoon!”

Pinky giggled as his nose pressed against Brain’s face. Brain reeled back in surprise, his antennae sparking when he realized how close they were.

“Narf! I’ve got my hat, Brain. I’m just singing as thanks to everyone!” Pinky said. “So I achieved my goal exactly as you said. And now I finally have a hat so I can properly root for Pharfignetwon!”

“So you did, Pinky,” Brain sighed. “A most unorthodox way of accomplishing your objective, but at least this will put you a step closer to striving towards something much larger. Now we just have to find a way to contact Snowball. Fortunately, this store may have parts that will enable me to create a tracker. The money you’ve earned should be sufficient enough.”

He gestured to the cap, which was now overflowing with cash.

“But I can have the cap?” Pinky asked.

Brain nodded. “Yes, Pinky. You may have the cap. Now, we must take our leave.”

He grabbed the cap by its brim, dragging it to the edge of the table before Pinky stopped him. “Hold on a sec, Brain,” Pinky said, tugging the cap back before Brain could push it off the edge. “Since you’re here, you wanna sing a duet with me? Please? Then we can go find Snowball together!”

Brain’s fingers tightened around the brim. “I don’t sing, Pinky. There was…no need for it on the colony. It served little importance to scientific endeavors. Besides, we came to conquer, not pursue singing careers.”

There was a tinge of…bitterness? No, not bitterness. More like embarrassment.

“Brain? Do you like music?” Pinky asked.

Brain let go of the brim and stared out into the crowd, who waited impatiently for Pinky to begin a new song. Then Brain looked down, his cheeks flushed, and he gave the tiniest of nods.

“I’m not a singer though,” Brain muttered.

“You don’t have to be to just sing,” Pinky said. “You can let loose!”

Brain shook his head. “There’s an audience here, Pinky. I’m not doing it.”

Pinky went to the songbook and flipped the pages until he found the duet he was looking for. He still really wanted to do one, but he didn’t want to make his best friend uncomfortable either. “Well, I still really wanna pick a duet, but you don’t have to sing. Just feel free to join in if you want.”

“I won’t,” Brain said stubbornly. He sat down with his back against the crowd, a short distance away from Pinky and the microphone. “But I suppose your offer is acceptable. One more song, and then we purchase the parts I need for a tracker with that money.”

“Okey-dokey, Brain. Zort!” Pinky typed in the matching number, and the song title appeared onscreen. The songs he’d picked earlier were all high energy and fun. This one was slower, more tender.

And he really wanted to sing for Pharfignewton so she’d hear him. Horses had excellent hearing after all.

Pinky turned to the audience. “Everyone, you’ve all been great. I have to go after this, but I just wanted to dedicate my last song to my girlfriend Pharfignewton. She’s a marvelous mare who’s dreamed of winning the Triple Crown since she was just a young filly. We love each other a lot, and I miss her so much, but I know she’s gonna do great out there in the Derby!”

The crowd made sympathetic cooing noises. Several people had their phones out to record.

“And I also want to dedicate this song to a missing friend of a friend. We don’t know where he is exactly, but I just know they’re gonna be super happy when they find each other again.”

Brain gave him a surprised look, which melted into one of gratitude.

The opening notes for Somewhere Out There played. Pinky took a deep breath and poured his entire heart into the melody.

Somewhere out there

Beneath the pale moonlight

Someone’s thinking of me

And loving me tonight

Pinky caught Brain’s eye, but the alien quickly returned his gaze to the screen, which displayed a beautiful Hawaiian beach at nighttime.

He hoped Pharfignewton was thinking of him.

Pharfignewton had to be almost to Kentucky now. If she won the Derby, then she would move onto other horse races, photoshoots, and interviews. Not to mention all the eating and sleeping so she could be at her best.

Sometimes, Pinky wished she could’ve stayed. But she had a career ahead of her. And so he let her go.

And when they reunited, they’d make up for lost time.

He sang the other singer’s part too, watching Brain in case he changed his mind. He seemed content with listening though, so Pinky let him be.

Somewhere out there

If love can see us through

Then we'll be together

Somewhere out there

Out where dreams come true

Pinky caught his breath as the instrumental began. All this singing was making his throat dry, but he had to finish his song.

He wondered if Brain would ever introduce him to Snowball. Maybe the three of them could be besties!

The refrain started again. Pinky poured his soul into it, hoping they could find Snowball soon.

And the song drew to a close. Pinky’s throat tickled, so the last lyric was quiet rather than loud.

“…out where dreams come true.”

That was Brain’s voice. Deeper, hesitant, and whispering, but he harmonized well with Pinky’s higher vocals. Brain sang beautifully. It felt like being entrusted with a secret only the closest friends shared.

Though everyone clapped for Pinky, none of them heard Brain. The lyric was meant for him and Brain alone.

“Come, Pinky. We must make haste,” Brain said. He stood up, taking Pinky by the wrist and leading him to the table’s edge.

“Righty-o, Brain! Bye, everyone! Love you all!” Pinky waved goodbye to their captivated audience, then grabbed the cap’s brim, dragging it along behind him.

Brain tensed, ready to leap from the table to the ground. Then a flicker of movement by the store sign caught Pinky’s attention. Was the neon sign broken? They should really fix them.

But it wasn’t a broken, blinking neon sign. The color was too dark for that.

Pinky leaned back, trying to see what the mysterious thing was. It could easily be a bird, a plane, or Superman.

He leaned too far, and instead of a graceful leap, he and Brain tumbled to the ground. All the money spilled out around them, the cap landing on top of them.

“Pinky, I don’t care if you want to fall from moderately elevated platforms, but don’t drag me down with you!“ Brain snapped as he shoved Pinky away. He crawled out from underneath the cap, flipping it upside down and tossing the spilled money inside.

“Sorry, Brain. I was just trying to see where that dark thingy went,” Pinky said, scooping up a handful of coins and dropped them into the cap. Now that their audience was gone, it was much easier to see everything.

Including the flying camera just hovering around the entrance. The mini blades whirled above the main body, which had a silvery ‘NS’ on its side.

“Oh, that’s what I saw! Hi, Mr. Flying Camera! Narf!” Pinky waved to the flying camera, which shrank the size of its lens, almost like it was glaring at him.

“Mr. Flying Cam-“ Brain’s scoff cut short as he looked up. His pink eyes grew huge and round. “Pinky, that’s…that’s Selenian tech. The NS is a New Selene trademark.”

“A long way from home then, isn’t it?” Pinky asked.

Brain ignored Pinky’s question. Slowly, he walked towards the camera, his hand reaching out, expecting the camera to come to him.

But it flew outside the store instead, dodging any obstacles in its path.

“Come back!” Brain shouted, and he took off after the flying camera. Though he couldn’t fly himself, he dodged every foot and stroller in his dogged pursuit.

He never noticed Pinky.

“Brain, wait for me! Brain!” Pinky yelled. But the camera and Brain turned a corner and disappeared.

He tried to drag the cap and money behind him, but it only slowed him down. He’d never catch up to them.

Unless…

“Sorry, Pharfignewton,” Pinky whispered. He ran off, leaving the desired objects behind.

Someone would find a cap and lots of money. It would make their day brighter. He found comfort with that.

o-o-o-o-o

He found Brain outside a side entrance. The alien dropped to his knees, looking up into the afternoon sky.

There was no sign of the camera anywhere.

“Brain?” Pinky said. “Where’s the camera?”

Brain’s mouth trembled as he tried to stifle a stream of tears. But they came anyway, spilling down his drooping cheeks like twin waterfalls. His eyes bored through Pinky, like he couldn’t really see him. Pinky pulled him in for a hug, gently stroking the back of his large head.

For once, Brain didn’t protest, and he clung to Pinky like a lifeline.

“Gone,” Brain choked out.

End AN: CHAPTER COMPLETE. WHOO.

Naming minor OCs is surprisingly hard to do.

I used to really love Dragon Tales as a kid so I shouted out to Dragon Land here.

I fully admit to just conveniently declaring a Free Burger Day with a coupon cause the mice don’t have money. I have god powers and I do what I want. And I declare the mice deserve burgers.

The karaoke here is a program called Magic Sing, which is what I grew up with. Trust me, Filipinos adore their karaoke. Basically, you hook the microphone to a TV, and you input a number code into the microphone to bring up a song. For instance, 0001 brings up Elvis Presley’s All Shook Up.

Pinky has some abandonment issues.

Give them hugs. They need them.

#pinky and the brain #patb nova #patb fanfiction

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sirescumbag · 4 years ago

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"northstar anon" aka "anon a star who [you] hypothesize has a most radiant laugh" here!

Unfortunately, my brain is currently only at around 12% functioning capacity so I do not have the brainpower to craft an ask as lovely as the one I wish to send :(

Thus my message today is simple: welcome back and thank you for the beautiful, lovely art! <3

Aww, anon!!! My my, I have many of your asks now, what a treasure to behold :,)) You are now a familiar face of sorts, with rather dashing sunglasses, if I may be so bold to suggest :DD

My ask box has been sadly far more neglected as of previous months due to life having me in its nasty little claws but rest assured I received your words in your last ask and always value your presence! It is very kind of you to muster the energy to speak with me despite struggling with your own issues, that must have been difficult. Ohh god no no, no need to worry about the message!! I appreciate the effort above all! You anons always amaze and flatter me with your timeliness as soon as I post compared to my extended absences between posts. It is incredibly touching to know that you have reserved time to speak to me so soon after posting! And now?? even when you're tired?? :,,,,,) I am very blessed to have someone like you, anon my star, who has such a generous heart to choose to expend a bit of that time on me! I've got to step up my game, you guys have been and are incredible, seriously

I'm afraid I can't promise that I will be here regularly, as I, too, am not capable of fully functioning as of late due to healing from some wounds, but I will post shitty, not yet rendered sketches in the meanwhile :,, ) I don't mind taking drawing requests for a while or answering some asks, just struggling with restoring my creative juices and time constraints for now! Drawing or no drawing actually you guys have been incredibly sweet, I love to interact with you guys, long heartfelt messages or reading your colorful tags or shitposts, it's all great. Started out with just planning to post my art and now I am a softie and this is 3 paragraphs now oh no

#ask #your name in my brain is #my star :))#can you tell how soft I am now?? at first I was so sure I was gonna get sniped or something by strangers on the internet #so i was like ok just drop ur art and leave i didn't expect ppl to want to talk to me oof #but actually every interaction I've had so far has been indiscriminately welcoming and sweet #i was expecting to not talk to anyone and then its like. now i'm actually a little overwhelmed by the kindness that floods my inbox???#u guys are so fucking nice what the hell #alternating between the chaos of the tags and the sweetness of the asks you guys are hilarious AND kind how can i not get soft #anyway i love reading your and everyone's thoughts don't be afraid to say random shit that isn't a heartfelt TED talk!!!#its so sweet to me that you guys think i'm worth a little extra time anything u say triggers automatic heart eyes for me dw

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 5 years ago

Text

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 2: Accept The Fucking Offer]

Series summary: You are an overwhelmed and disenchanted nurse in Boston, Massachusetts. Queen is an eccentric British rock band you’ve never heard of. But once your fates intertwine in the summer of 1974, none of your lives will ever be the same...

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing) HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @loveandbeloved29 @killer-queen-xo @maggieroseevans @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @joemazzmatazz @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @namelesslosers @inthegardensofourminds @deacyblues @youngpastafanmug

The floor is quiet. Your patients—all except one—are sound asleep and mercifully keeping their call buttons at a distance. Patricia is camped out in the nurses’ station at the other end of the hall, chomping noisily on sunflower seeds and wailing along to Tammy Wynette on her portable radio. Queen is enjoying their fourth late-night picnic of the week. You close the door and check your watch; you have seven minutes left before your break ends.

“Let’s kill her,” Freddie suggests casually, hanging his smoldering cigarette out of the open window.

“You know that’s extremely bad for you.”

“What? Committing felonies?”

“I don’t think you’d do well in prison, Fred,” Roger says, popping a Cheeto into his mouth. “No sequined leotards. No cats.”

“Smoking,” you correct. “Smoking is extremely bad for you.”

Freddie takes a drag, exhales a fog of smoke, and grins at you beneath gleaming sunglasses. “Possibly. But darling, the aesthetic is divine. And you’ll take care of me if I get sick, won’t you? Ensure I get all the best drugs, procure new lungs for me on the black market?”

Brian rolls his eyes and nibbles a violet plum, then gestures for John to pass him a napkin as juice dribbles down his stubbled chin. John flaps the napkin just outside of Brian’s reach, yanking it away each time Brian swipes. Roger snickers, observing their exchange from his place on the floor, before eventually advising John to have mercy. Brian snatches the napkin and promptly whips John across the face with it.

“So now you have me committing felonies,” you tell Freddie with a smile.

“Keeps things spicy.” Freddie peers over at you, brow crinkled, studying you like an abstract painting. “Do you like your job, dear?”

Brian groans. “Fred, please, don’t interrogate her—”

“I’m not interrogating, I’m inquiring—!”

“It’s fine, seriously, Bri, it’s fine,” you say. Brian raises his hands in surrender. His coloring has improved, he’s gained five pounds, he’s being discharged tomorrow. Then Queen will be whisked across the Atlantic back to London...and that’s a truth you’re struggling to grasp. “I love what I do. Just not necessarily where I do it.”

Freddie nods, puffing on his cigarette. “Because of Nurse Queen of the Underworld.”

“Not just her.” You can remember being a child and worshiping at the altar of familiarity: your home, that old maroon Queen Anne-style house at the intersection of Apple Avenue and Arcadia Street; inhaling New England autumns; burying yourself in your mother’s soft, cream-colored knit sweaters that were dusted with the scents of homemade pies and Chanel No. 5; the creaks of that uneven, tobacco-stained wood floor of your father’s study beneath your bare feet. Whatever existed outside of your comfortable, commonplace universe—whatever monsters or treasures or undiscovered ringed planets dwelled there—held no interest for you at all. You wanted to live here, die here, raise your own family here, take your children to play under the same weeping willows in the Public Green that your grandparents had met beneath. And then one day, in the purging heat of the summer after your sophomore year of college...you woke up and realized that all those comforting things suddenly felt like a cage, that your fingers were threading bars made of your family and your friends and every grain of soil in Boston. Patricia is dreadful, of course, and has been since you arrived at Massachusetts General nine months ago; but she’s not what you’re running from. “It’s this hospital, it’s this city, it’s Boston. I was born here and I cherish it, don’t get me wrong, but I want to see the world. Mountains and lakes and cathedrals and castles and...and...you know. All the rest.”

“That’s how I felt about Cornwall when I was a kid,” Roger confesses. “I’d take my little acoustic guitar out into the backyard and look up at the sky as I played and think, ‘Is this really it? Am I ever going to get beyond all this to something more?’”

“Yes, yes, well no one asked for your autobiography, blondie,” Freddie quips. Roger chuckles, entirely unoffended. “Continue, dear.”

You think before you respond. When you do speak, it comes out heavier than you mean it to, more serious, more pained, whispered, your voice splintering. “I guess I just don’t want to die without really living first.”

The boys watch you for a while: Brian poised and pondering, Freddie seeking, Roger empathetic, John very quiet. John has spoken—at the absolute most—five words to you since you’ve met him; but you know he can get chatty with Freddie or Rog on occasion, and so you’ve held out hope that you can still win him over. Now you’re almost out of time.

At last, Roger raises his beer, smiling, showing the tiny points of his canine teeth. “Cheers to that.” And it sends something through you like a one-way ticket into a brand new world.

You laugh nervously. “Okay. Wow. Enough of all that, I have to go save lives now.” You wash your hands in the sink and pull on a new pair of gloves, dodging Roger’s large, affecting eyes.

“Do you have a boyfriend, lovely Clara Barton?” Freddie asks. They know your actual name, they’ve known it since night one, but they’ve taken to referring to you as whatever famous nurses they can recall from high school.

“Freddie,” Brian admonishes.

“What, I’m just asking—”

“No, actually, I don’t,” you tell Fred. “Why, do you want a Green Card?”

“Darling, no offense, but if I was going to marry for strategic purposes I would aim for someone far older and astronomically richer. With life insurance.”

“Thanks, Freddie.”

“You’re quite welcome.”

“Are you single? Since we’re all sharing our life stories.”

“I’m not,” he replies, somewhat cagily. “None of us are. Well, Brian certainly isn’t, and Deaky wasn’t last I checked, although he’s tricksy and awfully quiet about the whole affair, so I ought to confirm that at some point...how about you, Rog?”

Roger chokes on his beer and wipes his dripping nose with one fuchsia sleeve. “Uh, I, uh, yeah, yeah, uh, I’m single. Yes.”

“Oh?” Brian says, eyebrows raised. “Someone should probably inform Josephine.”

“That’s a casual thing. Super casual. Not exclusive.”

Freddie and Brian exchange a glance: an amused, smirking, what else can you expect from Roger? glance. You try to smirk at Roger too; but he shrugs guiltily, endearingly, with some mesmerizing spell of danger and innocence and wildness and beauty, angels and demons that you didn’t know could coexist without clubbing each other to death. And you mean to file this away as a warning, a reminder to keep your distance; but it feels more like blowing on embers until they leap into flames.

Bad idea, lady. Really, really, really, exorbitantly bad idea.

“Alright, I’m out. Brian, you have the call button if you need it. There’re extra cups and napkins in the cabinet and—”

You open the door. Patricia is halfway down the hallway and approaching quickly, glinting-eyed, stone-faced, keys grasped in her hand. A glimpse at your watch informs you that your break ended two minutes ago. You swing the door shut.

“Get out!” you whisper urgently, and Roger bolts for the window. He pitches his beer outside and helps John climb through the opening and drop safely to the ground below.

“Fred!” Roger hisses, waving, and he lowers Freddie out of the window next as you kick snack wrappers and empty bottles beneath Brian’s hospital bed. Bri smooths his blankets, turns off his lamp, shakes the peanuts out of his hair that John lobbed there. You rush to Roger as you hear keys rattling against the door.

“Here, I’ll help you...” Without thinking, you take his hands as he hesitates in the open window and steady him as he crawls out. You can see Freddie and John down in the darkness, reaching up to catch Roger when he falls. A sudden wave of mourning grips you. I’m never going to see them again. “Bye,” you say, without any cleverness at all. But Roger smiles like it’s the best thing he’s heard in weeks, maybe months, maybe ever. He glances to where your hands hold his.

“Bye,” he replies in that raspy, radiant voice. And then he’s gone.

You sigh shakily. You turn around. Patricia stands in the open doorway.

“Oh,” she says, grinning like a shark, almost gloating. “You are so fired.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“We’re sorry, we’re so sorry, you have no idea how—”

“It’s fine, Roger.”

You’re standing under a lamppost just beyond hospital property at 7:15 a.m. Your shift is over, your very last shift at Massachusetts General; Roger waited outside to meet you all night. There are swollen shadows beneath his eyes, his cheeks are flushed with fury and mortification, he’s edgy and pacing and chain smoking. The sun is bright and already hot, the Arctic terns cawing and swooping overhead.

“It’s not fucking fine,” he flares. “We got you fired—”

“Roger, I was miserable there. I was jaded and complacent and I felt trapped, I felt like I was standing in cement, I felt like I was suffocating and I didn’t know how to bail myself out of it or how to explain any of this to my parents. But now...thanks to Queen...I’m free. I got the shock I needed. I can move on.”

“You didn’t deserve to leave like that,” he insists menacingly. “That bitch isn’t going to write you recommendations. You were good at what you did, you were really fucking good, Brian was despondent before you took over. You deserved better.”

You shrug. “Life’s not fair, Rog.”

“That’s the truth.” He takes a drag off his cigarette and you hold out your hand. He stares at you, perplexed, but passes the cigarette. You smoke a few puffs, then give it back. Roger smiles. “I thought that was extremely bad for you.”

“Most of the best things are.”

“Well.” He shuffles his feet anxiously. “I have a proposition.”

“Yeah?”

“Since you’ve successfully untethered yourself from all your unfulfilling earthly obligations...come to London with us.”

You feel your jaw fall open, feel all the tension in your muscles unravel as the numb shock rolls through you. “Uh. I was thinking maybe the Peace Corps or joining a travel nursing agency or something.”

Roger winks and nudges your shoulder with his. “Transatlantic flights to London count as travel.”

“That’s...accurate...”

“No, seriously!” Rog presses. “Look, every time a band tours, the company hires a medic or a nurse to go with them. They stitch up busted faces, sanitize infected tattoos, prevent us from dying of alcohol poisoning, ice knocked-out teeth until we can get to a dentist, the works. We’re going to be recording as much as possible in London, but Brian will be on bed rest for most of the next few months. You can take care of him. Keep his spirits up. You’re good at that. We’ll all chip in to pay you if the company won’t, Freddie and John have already agreed to it and I know Brian will as soon as I ask. Then, when we inevitably go on tour again...you can be our travel nurse.” He grins confidently, electrifyingly, like he’s figured out all of life’s thorniest questions.

“Rog, I really appreciate the offer, but...uh...this is really too much, and I have no travel nurse experience whatsoever, and...and...look, you are all really talented, I mean that, but you have some seriously chaotic energy and I’m not sure global fame is in the cards for Queen—”

Roger interrupts you brusquely. “You said you love what you do. So you like taking care of people, right?”

“I do, yeah.”

“And you want to see the world.”

“Absolutely.”

“And you think we’re fun, don’t you? Exciting? Audacious? Reckless enough to keep you busy with the fallout of frequent near-death experiences?”

“That sounds about right.”

“So...” He waggles his blond eyebrows. “Come with us.”

You look up into the mid-June sky, as blue and churning as the Boston Harbor, and try to imagine it: packing your suitcase (you really don’t need to bring all that much), digging your passport out of your jewelry box (you know exactly where it is), telling your parents that you’re jetting off to Europe the next day (they would accept it, maybe they’d even be proud; you’d finally be striking out on your own), renting some cheap little apartment in London (you have enough savings to get you started).

“Accept the offer,” Roger says.

“I really don’t think—”

“Accept the offer.”

“—I just couldn’t impose like that, I mean you’re not making any money yet and—”

“Accept the offer.”

“—You guys shouldn’t feel like you owe me this just because I happened to—”

Roger cradles your face with rough hands, gazes fixedly into your eyes, and smiles blindingly. “Love,” he says. “Accept. The fucking. Offer.”

Bad idea, terrible idea, literally the worst idea in the history of human civilization.

“Okay,” you reply softly.

“Okay, like, for real okay?”

“Yeah.” And entirely against your will, you break into a grin. This is the start of the rest of my life. This is the graveyard of familiarity.

“Yes!” Roger cheers. He takes your left hand, raises it to his lips, bites you lightly across the knuckles: some feral, ludicrously on-brand vision of Roger as a Disney hero. I’m the Lady and he’s the Tramp. I’m Sleeping Beauty and he’s the Prince who’s going to finally wake me up, even if it means slaughtering a dragon or two.

“Cute,” you say sarcastically. But, actually, it sort of is.

“Can I walk you home?” Roger asks. “You live around the corner, right? I can help you pack. Oh, wait, maybe I should shower first, I don’t want your parents to see me like this...I am a literal ashtray...my hair is ridiculous...I think I still have some eyeliner on...is the fuchsia jacket too much...?”

You watch Roger as he scrutinizes himself fretfully, his words fading out of the picture, the world becoming a silent film. You can’t look away. If Brian’s a willow tree and Freddie’s a lightning storm, what is Roger? Wildfire, you decide.

He follows you through breezy, shaded Boston streets to the house at the intersection of Apple and Arcadia, with the solemn promise that he can borrow your shower and an old pair of gym shorts. You know he’ll charm your parents instantly, that they’ll fall in love with him. Everyone does.

When you look down at your left hand, there’s a vanishing silhouette of a bruise where he bit you; and if you really think about it you can feel that it still burns.

#but you can never leave #but you can never leave fic #but you can never leave series #queen fanfic #queen fandom #queen fic #queen #borhap #borhap fandom #roger taylor #roger taylor fic

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hermionemonica · 5 years ago

Text

Cause I knew I was in love with you (when we sat in silence): Marichat May 2020 - Day 21

AO3 | For the @marichatmay

Collab with @lalunaoscura

DAY 1 | <-20 | 21 | 22->

Day 21 — Fireworks

[Nino]: Hey dude [Nino]: You're coming with us to the fireworks show later today, right?

[Adrien]: Actually [Adrien]: Listen Nino

[Nino]: Please don't say no

[Adrien]: You know how my dad is

[Nino]: Pardon my language but [Nino]: Someday I am going to kick his ass

[Adrien]: Haha [Adrien]: I’m sorry man

[Nino]: Nah, it's okay [Nino]: You take care, alright?

[Adrien]: Yeah [Adrien]: Have fun at the show [Adrien]: And tell the girls I'm sorry, will ya?

[Nino]: I will. Don't worry.

“He isn't coming, is he?” Alya asked as soon as Nino shut off his phone.

“Nope,” Nino said, dejectedly.

“Can he video call us at least? Like the last time?”

“No, he said he has to attend a video conference.”

“So it's gonna be the three of us again?” Marinette asked.

“Yeah.” Alya replied, but her expression changed all of a sudden. “Unless you want to invite the cat you adopted?”

“Will you drop that already?” Marinette retorted, making them all break into laughter.

It would have been nice to have him come with us though, Marinette thought.

“You know Chat Noir can just escape through the window right?” Plagg asked.

“I know, but I can't go until later tonight.” Adrien replied with a shrug. “I am supposed to join Father on a conference call with some magazine guy.”

“But you can get there in time for the fireworks!” Plagg protested.

Fireworks, Adrien thought. Marinette would love the fireworks.

“You know what, Plagg?” He said out loud. “You actually make a very good point.”

“Does that mean we're going to see the fireworks?” Plagg zoomed across the room over to him.

“Yes, we are.”

Marinette was having a pretty nice time at the show. It was a bit awkward third wheeling Alya and Nino, but over the years she had gotten used to it. At least they got cotton candy!

“The fireworks are about to begin in a few minutes!” Alya almost leaped in excitement. “Let's get ourselves a good place to watch?” Just then Marinette's phone buzzed in her pocket.

[😽]: Can you come to the Place de la Concorde Ferris wheel? [😽]: Please?

[Marinette]: Wait, are you here?

[😽]: I am.

Marinette’s heart started beating so fast. He was here.

Oh no, if she had known she would have put on more makeup!

No. He has seen me in my pajamas. I don’t need to look good for him.

“Hey guys,” Marinette called out, “I think I left my purse in the stall. You go on, I’ll be right back.” Saying so, she ran away.

"Wasn’t she wearing her purse?” Nino observed.

Alya smirked. “She is so bad at excuses.”

[Marinette]: I am here. [Marinette]: Where are you?

Undelivered.

He must have detransformed already, Marinette thought to herself. She began to tap her feet agitatedly, while looking around and trying to find her kitty among the crowd of people.

Just then, two hands came up behind her and covered her eyes.

“I'm here.” A voice whispered in her ear, making a tingle run down her spine.

There was no way she would mistake that voice, that cologne whose smell she had spent so many nights enveloped in.

“Chat?” She whispered back, careful so that nobody else heard.

“Yes.” He let go of her and took a few steps back. Marinette turned around.

She failed to stop the gasp that escaped from her lips.

Black leather jacket, with neon green claw scratch marks. Branded sunglasses. Chained jeans. Tousled blonde hair.

If Marinette was already nervous about seeing Chat Noir, that was nothing compared to how she felt now. The punk look made him look really... hot.

The warm smile on his face was not quite in tune with the rest of his look, but it made her weak in the knees nevertheless.

Snap out of it Marinette! This is just your dorky partner, who puns like an idiot!

Who also happened to have perfect broad shoulders.

Damn it!

“Hey Princess.”

“Ch-chat Noir?” She was failing miserably at keeping her calm. “What are you doing here?”

“To see you, of course.”

Okay, if he was gonna keep doing that, then she might as well combust into flames.

“You look good.” Really, really good.

“Thanks.” Chat nervously rubbed the back of his neck, while subtly looking her over. “That dress really looks good on you. I mean you look good in that dress! Like, it compliments you-"

“Thank you, Chaton.” Marinette blushed, as she averted her gaze from him.

They stood in silence for a few seconds. Loud cheers from the crowd finally made them look up.

The fireworks had begun.

“Quick, come with me!” Chat Noir grabbed her hand and pulled her along behind him.

Marinette had no idea where he was taking her, but she knew to trust him. He had led her into many a battle just like that and she never had a cause to regret it. So she followed him blindly as he guided her through the crowds.

“We're here.” He skid to a stop minutes later. Marinette stopped too.

They were standing in the midst of a small grassland. Marinette could see the grounds in the little distance, at a lower level than where they stood.

“What are we-”

Chat grabbed her shoulders and gently turned her around. “Look.” He whispered in her ear.

Marinette had a clear view of the fireworks from there. No crowd sounds, no blocking of the view. Just the two of them, standing in the middle of a lush green field, with the magnificent fireworks above them.

“Wow.”

“Do you wanna lie down?” Chat Noir was already sitting on the grass, legs spread out.

Marinette smiled and nodded. She slowly settled down beside him. Then they lay down together, Chat Noir cradling her head with his arm.

This felt nice.

As they lay there in silence, she could not help but notice how Chat Noir flinched every time the fireworks went off.

“Chat Noir?”

“Yes?” He replied without turning his head.

“Are you scared of fireworks?”

She watched as a light flush spread over his cheeks.

“It's just-" he hesitated, “It's a cat thing, I guess.”

Marinette could not help the smile. “It's okay, you don't need to be ashamed.” She reached over to snake her fingers with his. “Don't be scared, I'm right here.”

I'm right here.

Those three words sent a jolt of electricity through his body that was stronger than any of the fireworks. He slowly turned to look at her, to look into her big blue eyes. He could see the love clearly shining in her sky blue orbs. And her warm, radiant smile, he could do anything as long as it ensured that she would always smile like that.

She slowly turned her head back towards the sky. But he could not bring himself to do the same. Because he was looking at a far more beautiful sight.

The fireworks illuminated her face in the bright colors, so that although it was getting dark, her features were clearly visible. His gaze lingered from her eyes onto her freckles. Her adorable freckles that dotted her cheeks and the bridge of her nose like a cluster of stars. If it was up to him, he could spend eternity counting them.

And then his gaze fell onto her full pink lips, which were parted slightly in amazement. Beautiful lips that made him want to grab her face and kiss her senseless right then and right there.

Oh no.

His eyes widened as the realisation dawned on him. What the hell was he thinking?

But no matter what, he could not stop thinking about what it would feel like to hold her in his arms, knowing what it felt like to have another person to call his own.

Stop. No. I am in love with Ladybug.

But Ladybug had never made him feel the kind of warmth in his heart that he was feeling right now, lying next to Marinette.

Being around Ladybug gave him an adrenaline rush, butterflies in his stomach and a pitter-patter in his heart. When he thought about her, he wanted to shout to the world how much he loved her. He wanted to dance with her, matching his steps with hers as he held her hand.

But Marinette made him want to stop. She made him feel happy, but in a slow, subdued way. When he thought about her, he wanted to sing songs to her, write poetry to her, only to see her smile. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and keep her hidden from the world. To keep them hidden from the world.

Ladybug was a dream, but Marinette was real, lying right next to him at this moment.

He wanted her as his, and only his.

He knew it was wrong, he should not be in love with a civilian. Ladybug would kill him if she knew.

But somehow, it felt right to him. This realisation felt like a missing piece in the puzzle of his heart. And suddenly, it all fell into place. His heart felt so light that it felt like it was soaring into the sky.

A loud boom from the sky shook him back to reality. And it shattered his dreams as another thought intruded into his mind.

Marinette did not love him. She thought of him as just a friend, she had clearly mentioned that. He had missed his chance when he had it. He had not loved her when she was in love with Adrien, and now she had moved on. Luka was the one for her, he was the one she loves. And he would be a far better boyfriend than he could ever be.

While he would do anything for his Princess, it was not easy at all for him to let her go. He wanted her, he needed her. And to know that would never come true was breaking his heart into a thousand pieces.

She was so close to him, and yet so far.

A soft sniffle from her side made Marinette turn her head. She was aghast to see tears trickling down the sides of his face. In one swift motion, she sat up and cradled Chat Noir in her arms.

“Oh no, Chat,” she murmured, running her hands up and down his back, “is it scaring you?”

It is. So, so much.

He broke down, and just held her tighter.

“Do you want to go home?” Marinette offered.

Chat Noir shook his head. “Stay,” he whispered in a raspy voice.

“Alright dear kitty, we’ll stay here.” She ran comforting circles on his back, and used the other hand to ruffle his hair. They stayed like that for a few seconds, the only sounds being Chat’s sobs and the fireworks in the distance.

Slowly, Chat calmed down. But he would not let her go. So Marinette pulled his head onto her lap, and played with his hair.

“You won’t leave me, will you?” Chat looked up at her. How she wished she could see the eyes behind the sunglasses, if only to wipe away the tears that had probably pooled in them!

“Of course I won’t!” She lightly booped his nose. “What would I do without you?”

He did not reply. Just tightened his hold on her hand.

“There you are!” Alya announced as she saw Marinette walking towards them. “Where have you been, girl?”

“Oh! I-uh, I got lost!” She tried.

“Of course you did!” Somehow, it didn’t seem like Alya believed her. “Did you see the fireworks?”

“I did.” She smiled, but she could not get the image out of her mind. Chat had been crying in her arms like a baby. She had made a promise to herself to never let him go near fireworks ever again.

“Let’s go home, guys.” Alya cut in. “Marinette looks tired.”

“You were right, Plagg. I am in love with Marinette.” He muttered, as he plopped onto his bed.

He completely expected Plagg to start lecturing him and scolding him. But the kwami simply floated over to the side of his face. “Kid, are you okay?” He asked in a little voice.

He lifted his head from his pillows to look at the little creature. The sadness in his face simply broke down the dam in his heart as he broke into tears again.

“I am not okay at all!” He muttered between sobs, as he clutched his hair in both hands. “I love her so, so much that it hurts! Why does everyone I love always leave me?”

Plagg gently patted the top of his head, trying to comfort his owner. He was trying very hard to hold back tears of his own. Why was this pure boy fated to feel all the pain in the world? Marinette had told him why she could not love him, and while he would not hesitate to cataclysm the world to see Adrien happy, he could not take the chance of him being akumatized.

So he tried to comfort him the best he could.

“Hey kitty,” Marinette called out as Chat Noir landed on her balcony. “Are you feeling better than before?”

“Yeah.” He walked over to her, almost in a trance. His hand seemed to move out of his own accord, towards her face, but he stopped just before he touched her.

Marinette looked on in confusion as his hand rested in the air, just an inch short of her face. After a moment, she grabbed hold of it and pressed it to her cheek. Closing her eyes, she leaned into his touch.

Chat stood stiff for a moment, before his shoulders drooped. He bit his lip, trying to hold back the tears that had gathered in his eyes and were threatening to spill.

“Hey, why the long face?” The absence of his smile was extremely disconcerting.

“I’m just tired.” He forced a smile onto his face. “Can we go to bed a little early tonight?”

“Sure.”

That night, he held onto her tighter, trying to touch most of her. He had already lost her, but he was not ready at all to let her go.

(Check out some awesome art of Chat Noir made by our friend and beta Tara: LINK)

#miraculous ladybug #marichatmay2020 #day 21: fireworks #ml fanfic #my fic #collaboration #lalunaoscura #marichat #cause i knew i was in love with you (when we sat in silence)

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velvet-helvetica · 5 years ago

Text

Fireworks in Goodneighbor

Here's my gift for @falloutfandomeventhub’s #Celebradiation2020, written for @bi-mirandalawson! This scene takes place immediately after Fallout 4′s Dangerous Minds quest. It features dialogue between Hancock and Deacon, with cameos by Magnolia and Nick. There’s also a hint at a Sole Survivor femslash pairing, although the exact pairing is not specified. Enjoy!

It was the fireworks that woke him from his psychedelic slumber. At first he thought the fireworks were in his head—a pleasant side effect of the cocktail of chems he had imbibed several hours before. But the colors, the emotions were wrong. They didn’t stir him the way they should. As he squinted, he realized the fireworks were streaming in from the boarded-up windows.

They were coming from outside, across the street. From the Memory Den. A massive power surge had temporarily lit up the entire building. The marquee lights snaked along their path in a frenzy, lights up and down the building flashed interchangeably. Sparks flew from a previously-unseen Tesla tower on the roof, showering the street below with discharged electricity.

Then as suddenly as the fireworks show began, the Memory Den grew cold and dim. Then the building illumination returned to normal, the marquee blinking its obsolete advertisement for a centuries-old vaudeville act.

What the hell is that doctor up to now? Hancock wondered.

The Mayor stumbled off of his lounger and wandered out of the Statehouse, determined to find answers. But as he stepped outside, the crossing to the Square zoomed back, suddenly seeming very far away. His head wasn’t quite right yet.

He leaned against the doorway of the Statehouse, content to idly observe the ebb and flow of nocturnal street life. Through his hazy drug-addled vision, he glimpsed a private eye with a metal arm staggering past, muttering strange phrases in a low sandpaper voice. Moments later, two women scurried past him—one of them wearing a bright blue Vault suit. Their arms interlocked, they giggled inebriated as they headed straight for the Hotel Rexford.

Heh, they’re gonna get some tonight, thought Hancock. Good for them.

Whatever had happened at the Den, the main players were already gone. Instead of pursuing the mystery any further, he headed to the Third Rail. Hancock casually saluted the bouncer then sauntered down the stairs.

From afar, Hancock spied a lone man seated at the bar, nursing a half drunken glass of scotch. Strange to find him here before happy hour, the Mayor thought.

Hancock slipped onto the empty stool beside him. Deacon popped up his sunglasses and regarded the ghoul seated next to him.

“Well hello, Mister ‘Of the People, For the People.’’’

“Hey my man. How’s my favorite secret agent?”

They exchanged a series of friendly fist bumps, then Hancock ordered his current favorite, a gin and Quantum from Whitechapel Charlie.

While he waited for the robot barkeep to mix his drink, Hancock eyed Deacon’s latest disguise. He was bald today, with a threadbare plaid shirt and a beat-up pair of old jeans. The sunglasses, which looked custom-molded to his perfectly square eyebrows and weathered features, threw off what would otherwise be a spot-on drifter impression.

“I thought you agents were all about tailored suits and tuxedos rather than that bum get-up you wear all the time. Live a little, man! Dress up! Have some pride.”

“This from the man wearing the ruffled ascot of our Founding Father—one who lacked the modesty to leave enough room for the co-Fathers to sign.”

“Exactly. Why go half-ass when you can be as fabulous as this?” Hancock gestured his arm down his body with a flourish.

Deacon laughed. “Hey, I can be fancy when I want to be. This particular mission required a little more subtlety, that’s all.”

Whitechapel Charlie set Hancock’s glass on the sticky bar top, which emitted an eerie blue glow. Hancock picked up his drink, threw his head back and downed the cocktail all in one go, then exhaled a satisfied sigh.

Deacon raised an eyebrow. “Since when did you get all fancy with the gin and Quantums? I thought you were all about ‘keepin’ it real’.” Deacon added air quotes with his fingers for added emphasis.

“I’m still keepin’ it real, man,” Hancock insisted. So what if his drink choices lately were a step up from the moonshine of his drifter days? He was Mayor of this town now, dammit. He could drink whatever the hell he wanted. Secretly though, he was annoyed that Deacon had struck a nerve.

“If you say so, Mister Mayor,” Deacon replied skeptically. He spun his glass around, then put it to his lips, slipping the last slivers of scotch into his mouth.

The ghoul let his remark slide. He bought the agent another scotch and ordered himself some vodka. Hancock wanted to find out what the hell was going on in his own town, and talking to Deacon was the fastest way to get answers.

“Hey Deac, you see anything go down at the Memory Den? I was having the most mind-blowing trip, man, ‘til all this shit starts flashin’ in my eyes. How’s a ghoul supposed to come down easy when his own town’s blowing up on him?”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Deacon cracked. “You have your blue newcomer to thank for the fireworks.”

“The Vault Dweller?”

“Yep, her and Nick Valentine. They gifted Doctor Amari some brains from the dearly departed Kellogg.”

“Kellogg’s dead? Shiiiittt.” Hancock shook his head, taking in the news. “Good. Fuckin’ bastard deserved it.”

“Amen to that, brother.” Deacon and Hancock clinked glasses, drinking to celebrate the death of the Commonwealth’s most despised mercenary.

“So they took Kellogg’s brains downstairs to do some Frankenstein shit, I take it.”

“Something like that. I wasn’t in the room where it happened... But from what I gathered, they hooked Nick to Kellogg’s grey matter, judging by how he looked afterwards. Was even talking like Kellogg for a bit.”

“Damn. Must’ve been some head trip.”

“Yeah, no kidding. I don’t know how they probed into his noggin’, but they drained the power grid while doing it. My poor Barbara even glitched out a few times.”

“Aww... You still seeing your old flame?” Hancock asked. Deacon winced, briefly regretting bringing up his dead wife.

“Yeah,” Deacon admitted finally. He sighed as he finished his second drink.

“Hey, man, it’s cool, we all got our vices,” Hancock assured, patting Deacon on the back. “But if you ask me, chems are way easier for forgetting your problems. And cheaper.” He fished out some Jet from his pocket. “Want one? On the house.”

“Nah, I’m cool,” Deacon politely declined. “That’s the difference between you and me. I don’t wanna forget all that stuff.”

“Suit yourself.” Hancock took a puff of Jet, and wiggled his head to work in the high.

Deacon continued his story. “Anyway, Irma only charged me for a quickie—I mean, I wasn’t in there that long.” Hancock chuckled as Deacon corrected himself. “Just long enough to say hi, tell her how things are going. That I miss her.”

“What a sweetheart you are. That Babs was one lucky gal to have you.”

Deacon scoffed. “Anyway, what do you care how I spend my caps? I thought you’d be happy with me building up your precious tax base.”

Hancock was taken aback. “That hurts, Deac. That really hurts. That cuts me deep.”

Hancock leaned into Deacon, jabbing a leathery hand into his own chest. “You think I’m just about the money? Don’t get me wrong—I love my money. But that ain’t what this is about.”

Deacon smirked. “Then what is it about?”

Hancock waved him off. The ghoul stared off into the distance, shaking his head in disappointment. Then he grabbed his glass and gulped down his vodka.

“I don’t know anymore, man,” Hancock said at last. “You know, a few weeks back I had to kill Finn? The lil’ shit was shakin’ down that Vault Dweller as soon as she stepped into town.”

“No big loss,” Deacon dismissed. “Never liked that asshole anyway.”

“Neither did I, but that’s not the point. The point is... I wanted Goodneighbor to be for everybody. For drifters like me, the ghouls, the gangsters, the misfits...even for lil’ shits like Finn. But then I had to turn around and kill him. And I’ve been shakin’ down people for stealing from me, or stealing from the drifters.”

Hancock threw up his hands. “What’s wrong with me? Since when did I turn into the Man?”

Deacon laughed. “Whoo, Hancock. You know what they say about power.”

“This ain’t funny, Deac. I’m telling ya, this ain’t what I signed up for. I’m seriously thinkin’ of leaving all this shit behind. What’s the use of giving everyone freedom if things ain’t truly free?”

Deacon shook his head. “I don’t have an answer for you, pal. But it sounds like you can’t make up your mind about what you want.”

“Thanks. Thanks for nothing. You’re no fuckin’ help.” Deacon laughed some more as Hancock grunted in frustration.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything important, boys.”

Magnolia had strolled into the bar unseen. She leaned in between Hancock and Deacon and flashed the pair a radiant smile.

“Not at all, doll.” Hancock pecked Magnolia on the cheek, then she turned around and kissed Deacon’s cheek. “Showtime already?” Hancock asked.

“It sure is,” she winked. “Same time as always.” She went to the stage to prepare for her set.

“Well, that’s my cue to go,” Deacon sighed, standing up. “I got a feeling things are gonna get busy soon at HQ.” He dropped a few caps as a courtesy tip, ignoring Whitechapel Charlie’s preprogrammed grumblings.

Hancock stood up too. “You’re not gonna stay for the show?”

Deacon shook his head. “Nah. She’s lovely, but you know there’s only one synth for me... No offense, Mags,” Deacon added, acknowledging Magnolia out of courtesy.

“None taken, hon,” Magnolia replied. “You stay safe helping my friends, you hear?” She adjusted her microphone and began her first song.

I see you lookin’ ‘round the corner Come on inside and pull up a chair No need to feel like a stranger Cause we're all a little strange in here.

“Okay, bro, see ya later,” Hancock said, fist bumping Deacon as a goodbye. “You know you and your buddies can lay low here anytime. Even if all ya do is give me shit.”

“Appreciate it, dude.” Deacon grabbed Hancock’s forearm and whispered a warning into his ear. “Hey, man, watch out for the Institute.”

Hancock scoffed. “Pssht. The Institute can’t fuck with us, man. Goodneighbor’ll never stand for their shit.”

“I hope so, man. Just don’t underestimate them. They’re watching.”

As Deacon made his exit, he glanced back at the ghoul, concerned for his friend and what he feared was coming. Guess I better introduce myself to this Vault Dweller, he thought. Or better yet, have her come to me.

Pondering what Deacon said, Hancock sat back down in his stool and lit a cigarette. He exhaled a plume of smoke and reveled in the sound of Magnolia’s voice filling the room.

Have you got a history that needs erasing? Did you come in just for the beer and cigarettes? A broken down dream you're tired of chasing Oh, well I'm just the girl to make you forget.

#Celebradiation2020 #Celebradiation #Fallout 4 #Fallout #fanfiction #fanfic #Hancock #Deacon #Magnolia #Nick Valentine #F!SS #sole survivor #@bi-mirandalawson #falloutfandomeventhub

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stonecoldjerseyfox · 4 years ago

Text

Jersey on my mind (part 32)

From the front door of the building to the elevator there were fifteen steps. Fifteen steps that passed a counter and an orienteering board over the more than ten floor Brooklyn building.

Just as every morning, Mila counted the steps. It had become a habit, just as she, before entering the elevator, began to unbutton her jacket. Inside the elevator she let out a lioness-que yawn as she parked herself against the back wall. Thankfully it had been a calm morning. Jim was already gone when her alarm yelled at her to ‘get her ass out of the bed’. Juri was already awake and parked in front of the tv, watching Clifford the Big Red Dog in his pajamas, which meant that Mila could take a shower before preparing his breakfast. While Juri ate his oatmeal with honey under a blanket on the couch, eyes glued to the tv screen and the happy, big red monster dog, Mila got dressed. Forty-five minutes later she dropped Juri at daycare, kissed him on the cheek and hurried off to work.

The elevator stops with a soft thud and she steps out on the ninth floor and heads for the glass doors to the clinic. She’s let in by the receptionists and is welcomed by the constant scent of fresh cut flowers on the reception desk.

”Good morning, Saif. Morning Vanessa.” Mila greets the always happy receptionist couple, lovebirds in real life, behind the counter as she passes through the empty reception.

The dressing room is empty when she enters. Mila removes her workwear, the slightly fancier than nurses-scrubs in a sophisticated shade of grey, from her locker. She leaves the white coat on its hook (it’s way too formal) and drops the bright pink Adidas trainers on the floor with a thud before starting to undress. They switch between the grey scrubs and plain white every other week; head dentist and dental practice owner Said Kadeem thought it would be a ‘edgy, yet fun way to brand themselves as a fun clinic’. In reality he just couldn’t decide which color he thought looked best. It’s the same with his morning-, lunch- and afternoon coffee; with or without milk? He can stand in front of the machine for hours it seems, with his forehead wrinkled together in concentration to make his mind up.

I’d die for a cup of plain, as black as fucking possible-coffee right now, Mila thinks as she pulls the grey pants over her hot pink thongs, reminding herself to do the laundry when she gets home. Putting milk into a cup of coffee is a crime if anything. She steps into the trainers and pulls the top over her head. She gives herself a last look in the mirror and adjusts her ponytail, before leaving the changing room, entering the break room. It’s not a luxurious clinic; no celebrity clients wearing bigger than their face-sunglasses or heavy politicians with a tail of bodyguards, but it’s one of the best private dental clinics in the area, which makes the staff spaces and benefits really generous.

Gotta get some luxury treatment for making it through university with a toddler at home, Mila thinks to herself and steers toward the coffee machine. She greets her colleagues, who are already parked at the table with coffee mugs in front of them, everybody except Lauryn, who’s entire face is hidden behind a huge Starbucks blonde vanilla latte with extra vanilla and coffee plus caramel.

”Rough night?” Mila asks.

”Never turn thirty.” Lauryn Cassidy groans and puts down the ginormous drink on the table. The bags under her eyes scream ’we need to rest you fucker’. ”Why am I even here today?”

”You’re thirty and responsible.” Kristian Shaffer responds. ”I’m impressed.”

Lauryn groans again.

”I liked myself better two days ago, when I was twenty-nine and carefree.”

”Remind me to take the day off after my thirtieth birthday then.” Sarah Preston says and pours a pack of raw brown sugar into her coffee mug.

”Gosh, I’m glad I’ve been there, done that.” Riley Palmer sighs and leans back into his chair. He puts his hands behind his head and flexes his biceps. ”Trust me, thirty is the new twenty.”

”My god such bullcrap!” sterile nurse Ava Cooper rolls her eyes at Riley’s remark. ”It’s almost as bad as that ugly ’carpe diem’ tattoo.”

”What?” Riley looks at Ava, then at his biceps, where ’carpe diem’ is imprinted on his skin with black ink, in a barely readable font. ”What’s wrong with that? It’s inspiring. Like, a mental note that-”

”Ey, we know what it means.” Mila interrupts him. ”And it’s ugly.”

Riley doesn’t get a chance to reply. Kadeem enters the room and a glued-on, convivial atmosphere settles across the table in the blink of an eye. It’s for the best not to quarrel in front of the boss.

”Preston-” Kadeem announces and points with his whole arm at Sarah. “Hallie Reynolds called and cancelled Phillips’ appointment this afternoon.”

”Is Phillip the one with the ears?” Lauryn looks at Aaisha to get answers, but the angelic Aaisha only bursts into a muffled giggle.

”No, that’s Lennox. You know, Dumbo.”

”Christ sake, Riley, stop giving my patients names.” Sarah gives Riley the evil eye and slaps him on his upper arm.

”Sergeyevna, you’re on your own this morning, I need to borrow Aaisha for some drilling.”

Mila and Aaisha look at each other. Kadeem loves his job, but most of all he loves a good drilling. Well, there goes that calm morning; making eye contact over the patients, joking around, singing along to the radio and Aaisha’s regular 11 am stretch, combined with: ”I’m gonna go down to the juice bar, you want anything?”

”Fine.” Mila replies to her superior in white.

”And please, tone down that bluntness today, will you?” Kadeem pleats. ”We can’t have more body builders leaving the clinic crying. Everyone is bad at dental health and everybody knows it, you don’t have to tell them.”

”I thought that was my job?”

”Our job is to dig around their mouths, smile and tell them to floss properly. And charge for doing so.” Kadeem turns to the coffee machine, which is the start of his first, dreadful choice of the day; milk, or no milk. ”Frankly, I don’t know how you seem to get them to come back every 6 months.”

”Witchcraft.”

”Really?” Kristian puts his head to his side and grins at her. ”Thought it was your radiant, bubbly personality?”

“Nope, that’s Cooper and Cassidy.” Kadeem says, without taking his eyes off the coffee machine. “Sergeyevna is like me. It’s in our culture.”

Yeah, the much well known, yet tremendously rare Moscow-Russian and Shiraz-Iranian-culture. Mila smiles a little. As soon as it became clear to Kadeem during her first interview that she was a relatively fresh immigrant, he became overjoyed and felt an almost unreasonable bond with her. Sure, they are both honest and forthright, but that’s more likely a personal trait. Otherwise they are like night and day. But she likes him, he’s a good boss. And his wife makes a hell of a baklava, not to speak of the kletcha.

As the clock strikes nine they simultaneously leave the break room and heads for their offices and treatment rooms. Mila turns on the lights, cranks up the radio and looks out of the window with her cup of coffee steadily in her hand. Another workday. She puts the mug down at the counter as she hears steps approaching. In the next moment, Vanessa appears in the door, followed by her first patient of the morning, Mr. Hardin.

“Mr. Hardin, nice to see you again.” Mila gives her patient a bright smile and takes his hand, gives it a firm shake. “How are you doing?”

She makes a gesture to offer him to sit down in the actually quite comfy dentist chair. She has taken quite a few naps in them after her lunch break since she started working at the clinic.

“Same old, same old.” The man with thinning hair sits down and shrugs at her. “At least I got the health.”

“I’m glad to hear.” Mila replies. “How’s Irene? Must be busy times now?”

“Yeah she’s got her ass full- sorry.”

“No worries. I bet.” Mila takes a seat in her rolling, saddle chair and rolls up to the computer, where she starts to fill in the patient file. ’Hardin, Mark. Regular checkup. Tartar removal’. Same old, same old. “So, just a checkup today.”

“Correct.” mr. Hardin says. ”How’s the kid? Juri, wasn’t it?”

“Yup, indeed.” Mila replies as she takes two pale blue rubber gloves from its box. “He’s doing well.”

“Is he walking yet?”

”More like running.” Mila focuses on the framed photography on the wall, picturing a tropical beach with clear blue turquoise water. Holy crap, he’s growing up so fast, she thinks as she pulls the gloves over her hands. “He’s been on the run for awhile now. Just as I was apparently.”

“They grow fast.” Mr. Hardin shakes his head, as if he can’t believe the basic biology of humans, and leans back in the chair. “But you’re young and healthy. That’s good. This virus, huh?”

“Yeah it’s really strange- Scoot, please.” Mila instructs her patient before continuing to check the tray on her cart, making sure all of her tools are in place. “Great.”

“Both New York Presbyterian and Mount Sinai West are soon overrun. I mean, if that doesn’t sound serious I don’t know what does. Irene’s working double shifts at Langone here in Brooklyn and they still seem to get more and more deaths each day. I think the death toll was, about 70 yesterday, and that’s just Langone. Must be like, 300 in New York alone.”

“Mhm, it’s horrible.” Mila replies monotonously, while scrolling through the x-ray of Mr. Hardin’s lower row of teeth from his appointment the year prior. She’s been trying her best to live life as normal as possible despite the deadly virus. Life has to continue, somehow. “Do you have any issues with sensitivity? Pain?”

“No, just tartar. Like, a lot. Irene found these small pieces in the sink-“

“We’ll fix that today.” Mila says quickly and gives her patient a radiant smile. She doesn’t need, or want, to hear what poor Irene Hardin found in the sink. She’s got a pretty good clue. “You’ve quit smoking yet?”

She turns and looks at Mr. Hardin, who’s shoulder goes up to his ears. He transforms from his regular, very accountant-self (because that’s what he is) to an ashamed puppy in the clinical chair. Mila shakes her head at him, smacking with her tongue. Mila turns to the radio and increases the volume of Angus Young’s voice wailin “You’ve been thunderstruck” to the more than famous guitar tapping.

”Ah. This is why I like going here.” Mr. Hardin says with a smile and points at the radio. ”I listen to NYC Rock in the car, every day.”

“Okay mr. Hardin, let’s rock and roll.” Mila pulls the sterile face mask over her nose. It smells clinical and plastic. She grabs the probe and the mirror and smiles with her eyes at mr. Hardin from underneath the mask.

She starts to work. It’s a regular day. Not too hot, not too cold. The sun is shining into the office and Angus Young continues to blast out that they’ve been struck by thunder, about a billion times. The only thing that looks like its’ been struck by something is her patient's teeth. What on god’s earth is he doing during the nights? Chewing bricks?

”Mr. Hardin, are you tense?” Mila asks.

”Howch do choo do chiiit?!” Mr. Hardin manages to utter, with both wide eyes and wide open mouth. ”Schee, chish isch wchy I gcho cher! Ycho are likche a cheraphchist-”

Mila sighs and removes the tools from his mouth.

”No, Mr. Hardin. You grind your teeth, bad. They look awful. Stop it or you won’t have teeth left.”

”Oh.” He replies and swallows, then bursts into a smile again. ”But you see, this is why I go to you and not that crappy Family smile clinic down in Brownsville, that Irene goes to. Honesty, blunt honesty. I like that.”

”Good to know.” Mila says and signs at him to open his mouth again, to let her continue working on that tartar. ”Not everybody does. I once made one of those body builder’s cry because I scolded him for not brushing his teeth right.”

Yeah she was pretty hard on that poor guy, but honestly, his gums looked like minced meat. Mr. Hardin smiles as best as he can with his mouth wide open.

The next song is by The Hellacopters, which makes her smile once again underneath the mask. She saw them perform, one of their last appearances, with Darya a couple of years ago. But suddenly, in the middle of ”-hey boy, you understand. Say your prayers, or you'll be damned-” the song’s interrupted by the breaking news-jingle.

”We’re interrupting with some disturbing news from downtown Manhattan, where chaos has erupted outside Mount Sinai’s hospital.”

Mila pauses in a movement and glances at the radio.

”Police have been called to the morgue where the-”newscaster seems to be groping for words, as if he himself does not believe what to say. “The dead seem to have woken up.”

It is only thanks to the slightly sticky gloves, which hug around the tools, that Mila doesn’t drop them in Mr. Hardin's mouth, at that proclamation.

”Police began firing shots as the bodies- patients, began to attack civilians and medical staff.”

Mila returns to the tartar, but she can’t focus entirely on Mr. Hardin’s hardcore tartar infestation, even though it’s an astonishing collection; if Aaisha hadn’t been asked to help Kadeem out, she’d been sitting on the opposite side of Mila, and her big brown eyes would have been bigger than usual by excitement. It’s surely a dentist thing only, being excited by tartar. Mila tries her best to stay focused, but her mind drifts off to the radio and the rise of the living dead, where the ’on the spot’-broadcaster now interviews a doctor from Mount Sinai.

“-at least ten former patients, declared dead during the week, escaped the morgue and attacked people on the street. Dr. Berkowitz, head of ICU, can you explain what just happened?”

”I don’t know.”

“Were the patients in a coma?”

“No.”

”Dr. Berkowitz, did you or any of your staff, by any chance, make a mistake?”

”No, as I said, they were deceased. Dead.”

”You’re sure?”

”Yes, ofcourse.”

Mr. Hardin makes a gesture with his hand and Mila removes the tools from his mouth.

”Turn up the volume.” He says and rises on his elbows.

Mila obeys, reaches for the radio and turns the volume wheel up a notch.

“How do you explain the situation, then?” the interviewer asks, now louder than before. He sounds more and more irritated, or afraid, Mila can’t really know the difference. “Dead patients suddenly... awakes?”

“I can’t.”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Berkowitz, we have to- We get disturbing breaking news from Weill Cornell Medical Center that- what!?” The interviewer exclaims, as if he can’t comprehend what he’s hearing from the third party in his ear. ”Okay, ehrm- we get news that a similar incident occurs right now at Weill Cornell. I repeat, Weill Cornell. Police have been dispatched to the spot and civilians on the street have taken shelter in nearby shops and restaurants. It’s been confirmed that eight- no, nine, people have been injured and a woman has deceased, by severe blood loss. I repeat, one woman is dead and lying in the street. According to eyewitnesses- Neil, you sure about that?” The interviewer asks. “Sorry. Eye witnesses claim that the woman, and I’m sorry about this, is being eaten by the deceased. If you’re in the neighborhood, do not go outside, I repeat; do not-”

Both Mila and Mr. Hardin stare at the radio under complete dead silence. The tools are frozen in her hands and her heart beats hard inside the grey scrubs.

“I gotta-” Mr. Hardin swallows. “I- I need to call Irene.”

“Yeah..” Mila replies. A rush of sickness runs over her. Is the room suddenly swaying, or is she just, overwhelmed? Is this real? She casts a glance at Mr. Hardin, who climbs out of the leaned back chair, still with the pale blue plastic sheet around his neck. “Yeah, go ahead.”

He leaves the room. Mila hears him talk on his phone outside the door. Should she call someone? Her mind wanders to Juri and mama first. With trembling hands Mila picks up the phone from her pocket, unlocks it and goes into the messages. She changes the alphabet to cyrillic starts dictating a text message to mama. In order not to worry her beloved mama more than necessary, she simply writes: ‘Good morning mamochka. How are you today? Love you.’

She presses ‘send’ and then finds her way to the contacts, where she quickly finds ‘Jim’. Signals are heard. She spins in her chair, faces the window. He picks up the phone at the fourth dial.

“Cricket.” Jim greets her. His warm, amazing smile is felt through the phone and instantly calms her soul.

“Thank goodness.” Mila sighs and massages her forehead. “Hi.”

Jim chuckles on the other end. She can see him clearly in front of her. Black suit and white shirt. He’s just had a haircut and said bye bye to the ponytail. Tall, handsome beyond comparison. Probably with his tenth cup of coffee of the day in his hand. It’s a miracle he can keep his cool with that much caffeine in his system.

“Hi.” He replies softly. “What a pleasant surprise. Does milady want to hire a personal security guard?”

She can’t help but smile like an idiot.

“I can offer a very favorable package price.” Jim continues. “Annually. How about ... ten years? Initially.”

“Yeah, I’ll think about it.”

Through the phone, she can really picture how one of Jim’s eyebrows starts to go up, towards his forehead. Usually she plays along with his shenanigans and jokes, but she can’t. Not now.

“You’re on speaker or something?” He asks.

“No. No, sorry. I’m not.” Mila replies and sighs. “Have you heard?”

“Nope. Or, depends on what I’ve missed. What's the talk of the town?”

“You’re nearby a tv or a computer?”

“I’m in the office. Hold on.” Jim starts tapping on the computer. Mila hears the rustle of the buttons in the background. “Oh. That’s-” Jim pauses and reads. “All of them died of the virus?”

“Apparently.”

“I’d say it was a mistake by the hospital, if not- but...” he pauses. “‘New York Times reports that it’s more than twenty patients. Could be more.’ What the-”

“What’s happening?” Mila asks, can’t conceal her feel of discomfort.

“Dunno.” Jim says. “Hey, I can get off work by-” he pauses, as to looking at his watch. “I’ll pick Juri up earlier, in about two hours. I’m sure he’s fine but, just in case. We’ll fix dinner.”

What have I done to deserve this guy, Mila thinks inside her head.

“I love you.”

“You love me for my incredible mashed potatoes.” Jim grins through the phone. “Love you Cricket. It’s gonna be fine.”

Taglist: @lonewolf471 @twdeadfanfic

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