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brunchable · 3 months ago

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How I met your Father. | Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Themes: Getting noticed by your crush. Pining from Reader.

Summary: You work at the cafe Bucky always goes to and you've had a crush on him for MONTHS.

A/N: Conntected with How's Retirement, Bucky? and Ouch, my face.

The bell above the door jingles as the early morning rush dwindles down, leaving only the occasional customer trickling in. You’re wiping down the counter, lost in thought, when your coworker, Emma, elbows you hard enough to make you stumble.

“Ow, what—” You shoot her a glare, but her eyes are wide, and she nods her head toward the door with a smirk.

“Guess who just walked in,” she whispers conspiratorially, her grin widening. “Mr. Grumpy Pants himself.”

Your heart does an involuntary flip, and your eyes dart to the entrance. Sure enough, there he is, all dark and brooding with that permanent scowl on his face. Bucky Barnes, the man who you’ve secretly—and very stupidly—had a crush on for the past three months.

“Oh my God, stop calling him that,” you hiss, but your voice is a pitch too high, giving you away instantly. You try to ignore the fact that your cheeks feel like they’re on fire.

Emma just chuckles and nudges you again, her voice teasing. “Come on, Y/N, everyone knows you’ve got it bad for him. You literally beam like a sunflower whenever he’s around.”

Another coworker, Lily, pokes her head out from behind the espresso machine and joins in. “Yeah, it’s like you’re part of some weird ‘grumpy guy fan club’ or something. He never even smiles, and you’re over here trying to win him over with puns and pastries.”

“Y’all are the worst,” you mutter, willing yourself to calm down. “And it’s not a fan club. It’s called being friendly.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” Emma drawls, winking. “Being friendly. That’s why you spend extra time drawing hearts in his latte foam.”

“I do not!” You glare at her, scandalized. “He doesn’t even order lattes!”

“Okay, but if he did,” she teases, “you’d find a way.”

“Shut up, he’s coming over,” you say under your breath, hurriedly pushing Emma and Lily away as you straighten up, forcing yourself to look composed and nonchalant.

Bucky walks up to the counter, his usual stoic expression firmly in place. He gives you a nod of acknowledgment, but not much more.

“Morning,” he grumbles.

“Good morning!” you chirp, and damn it, there’s that stupid sunflower smile on your face again. You catch Emma and Lily exchanging knowing looks behind the counter and pointedly ignore them. “Usual today?”

“Yeah, iced americano,” he replies, his voice that familiar low rumble.

You ring him up, trying to suppress the fluttery feeling in your chest. As you grab a cup and scribble his name on it (which you definitely didn’t write just a little fancier than everyone else’s), you decide to take a chance. You shoot him a playful look.

“Hey, did you hear about the coffee that got arrested?”

He blinks at you, his brows furrowing slightly. “No. Why?”

“It got mugged,” you say brightly, giving the punchline your best delivery, complete with a little ta-da gesture.

Silence. Bucky just stares at you, his expression unreadable. It’s like talking to a statue. You can practically feel Emma and Lily holding their breaths, waiting for his reaction.

“...Right,” he mutters finally, nodding slowly. “Mugged.”

You wilt a little but keep your smile plastered on. “Tough crowd, huh?”

“Yeah,” he replies, and for a second—just a split second—you think you see a flicker of something in his eyes, like amusement. Or maybe you’re imagining things.

You finish making his coffee, and as you hand it to him, Emma stage-whispers from behind the counter. “Come on, Mr. Barnes! Give her a break. She’s been working on those jokes all week.”

“Emma!” you hiss, mortified. Your eyes dart to Bucky’s, your heart hammering.

But instead of looking annoyed, he tilts his head, regarding you with a sort of curious intensity. “All week, huh?”

“Uh, yeah,” you admit sheepishly, clutching the edge of the counter. “I mean, not just for you or anything—”

“Yes, just for you,” Emma interjects, grinning wickedly. Lily nods enthusiastically, her eyes wide and teasing.

You shoot them both a murderous glare, and Bucky’s gaze flickers between the three of you. Then, to your complete and utter shock, he makes a sound. It’s barely audible—more of a huff than a laugh—but you catch it. Your eyes widen.

“Did you—” You lean forward, grinning uncontrollably. “Did you just laugh?”

“No.” He denies it immediately, shaking his head, but his lips twitch like he’s fighting off a smile.

“You did!” You point at him accusingly. “I heard it!”

“Keep dreaming, Y/N,” he mutters, but there’s something softer in his tone now. He glances down at his coffee cup, where your careful handwriting spells out ‘Bucky :)’ with a little smiley face beside it, it’s almost mocking his stubborn scowl.

He sighs—one of those heavy, put-upon sighs that he’s so good at—and looks back at you. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

“You have no idea,” you say with a grin. “And one of these days, I’m gonna make you smile for real. Just you wait.”

“Uh-huh.” He nods, raising an eyebrow as if to say I’d like to see you try. “Good luck.”

With that, he turns to leave, but just as he’s about to reach the door, he pauses. You’re still watching him, breathless and grinning like an idiot. He glances around the café, his eyes flicking to the stereo speakers mounted on the walls.

You follow his gaze, and that’s when you hear it: the soft, melodic intro to Sunflower by Post Malone. The lyrics drift through the air, the singer crooning about being left in the dust, a sunflower, and you feel a pang of embarrassment. Of course this song would start playing now.

Bucky’s gaze shifts back to you, and something changes in his expression. He looks at you—really looks at you—as if he’s putting together a puzzle that’s been right in front of him this whole time.

“See you tomorrow, sunflower,” he says, his voice lower, gentler.

You freeze, sure you’ve misheard him. “Wait—what?”

But he just smirks—smirks, like he knows something you don’t—and nods at the speakers. “You beam like one of those. Didn’t even need the song to tell me.”

He turns away, and you’re left standing there, staring at his retreating back as the door swings shut behind him. The café falls silent except for the soft chorus of the song. Emma and Lily stare at you, jaws practically on the floor.

“Did he just—”

“Yeah,” you breathe, still staring at the door. “He called me sunflower.”

Emma lets out a whoop, and Lily clutches her heart dramatically.

“Oh my God, Y/N, he’s so into you,” Emma squeals. “You broke Mr. Grumpy Pants! You did it!”

———

The door swings shut behind him, he makes it a few steps down the sidewalk before he slows to a stop, his coffee cup in his hand. He glances back over his shoulder, through the glass windows, where you’re still standing behind the counter, wide-eyed and speechless.

For a moment, he just stands there, watching you laugh as your coworkers swarm around, teasing you. You’re always like that—smiling, bright, never wavering in your ridiculous attempts to make him laugh. Even when he gives you nothing but deadpan responses and stony glares.

“Sunflower,” he murmurs under his breath, shaking his head. The word tastes strange on his tongue—soft, unfamiliar—but not unpleasant. He lets out a slow breath, and before he can stop himself, a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

“Damn,” he mutters to himself, turning away before anyone can catch him grinning like an idiot. “Persistent little thing.”

He takes another step, his smile growing. Maybe tomorrow, he’ll linger a little longer. See what other terrible jokes you’ve got up your sleeve.

After all, it’s not like he’s in a rush to go anywhere else.

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x f!reader #winter solider x reader #winter soldier x you #winter soldier x y/n #james bucky barnes #james barnes x y/n #james barnes x reader #james barnes #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan characters #sebastian stan x reader

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arcanefox207 · 5 months ago

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See How She Rides

Pairing🔹 Joel Miller x f!reader Rating🔹 Explicit, 18+ MDNI Word Count🔹 4.4k [ AO3 ] Summary🔹 BoatMechanic!Joel Miller is just doing his job when you show up unannounced to soak up some summer sun. Warning🔹 Reader age undefined. Joel is late 40’s. No Outbreak. I don’t want to ruin the plot but this one is mostly smut. Unprotected P in V. Oral. Infidelity. Sleazy behavior. Not beta'd!

F I C U P DA T E S 🔸 M A S T E R L I S T 🔸 A O 3

“S’cuse me, Ma’am.” The greasy boat mechanic says when he notices your shadow looming over him from the dock. “Didn’t know anyone was coming out today.” He leans back from the engine compartment to get a good look at you.

You are standing there in your skimpy bathing suit with a sheer coverup. A wide brim hat and worn flip flops. A canvas tote slung on one arm and your other hand holding a small cooler.

To his point, it was mid-week and an unusual time to be at the marina. Your no-good husband had been on a ‘business trip’ and you were tired of spending the hottest days of summer cooped up at home.

You pull your sunglasses down slightly and look over them at the greasy mechanic in your husband's boat.

Greasy and absurdly handsome.

It was high noon and the sweltering sun rays were wearing him down. He looked wilted and totally done for. The deck of the boat was a mess of tools and oily rags. Clearly he was not expecting company.

He grabs an oily cloth and wipes his hands on it. He looks up at you with scrunched eyes as the sunlight was facing him.

“I’ll be another 10. You mind waiting?” He brings his hand to his brow to act as a visor so he can see you better. You notice how the sun catches the emerging gray streaks in his messy hair and how his weathered skin shows years of hard work. He was probably in his late 40’s if you had to guess.

Not at all. You think to yourself. In fact, this was exactly the type of excitement you needed. After all, why shouldn’t you get to have some fun too.

The soothing sounds of the water plopping against the side of the boat and the dock creaked under you. It made the pause seem extra dramatic and drawn out.

“Hurry up then.” You snap at him, with a hint of playfulness.

He nods and tosses the nasty rag on the floor as he kneels on the backseat and lowers himself back over the engine area. He stretches his arms out long as he reaches to tighten something with a wrench. A sliver of his skin on his lower back peeks out at you and shows more and more the further he reaches. Sweaty and tanned by many hours in the sun.

He was doing some sort of maintenance your husband probably requested they do. He cared more about that boat than he cared about you, that was for damn sure.

You decide that standing on the dock and waiting wasn’t really your style, and you want a better view. You toss your canvas bag and cooler over the edge and step into the boat from the side dock. It shifts slightly with your weight and brings attention to your presence.

The mechanic turns around with a concerned look.

“Careful, ma’am” He reaches his filthy, oil-stained hand out to you as you step into the boat. You grab it, reluctantly, to help with your balance. With both feet firmly inside the boat, you look up at him. You are taken aback by his size. His wide shoulders and tapered waist sculpted perfectly as his sweat soaked t-shirt clings to his body for dear life.

“Joel Miller.” He introduces as he gives your hand a squeeze with his massive paw and pulls it away after you share yours. The corner of his lip pulls up slightly and he eyes you up and down briefly.

“Be outta’ your hair soon.” He turns back to the engine, but can’t help looking over his shoulder to steal one more look at you.

Typical sleaze, but this one was charming.

You let out a deep breath, not realizing you had been holding it. You wanted to tease him initially and have some innocent fun, but now you feel a heat bubble inside you. It was obvious to Joel, too.

You grab your things and kick off your sandals. You make your way to the front of the bow.

This was your favorite part of the boat. The open bow had a lounger that wrapped along both sides and plenty of room to sit at the very front too. It was the perfect place to read a book and sunbathe. The perfect place to distract Joel.

You pull off your coverup and toss your hat to the side. Your hair falls loosely over your shoulders. Your royal blue bikini was an excellent choice for today. This one tied around your neck and made your boobs look fantastic. Your bottoms were strappy and high cut and accented your curves beautifully.

You reach into your bag and grab your suntan lotion. You tie your hair up into a messy bun.

You take your seat at the very front so that you are facing towards the back of the boat. Joel is bent over the lifted back seat where the engine was stored, and head first in there working.

His jeans were tight on his ass when he was bent over. His meaty thighs sticking to the grungy denim. He looked hot and uncomfortable working in the heat, but damn he looked good.

You slather yourself with the lotion while you watch him work, getting more turned on by the minute. When he backed out of the engine to grab a tool his biceps flexed and his sweat beaded on his brow as he met your eyes. He caught you looking.

You bend your knee on the lounger and rub the lotion slowly up the full length of your leg while you turn your eyes away from him. Pretending to be busy and uninterested.

You can still feel his gaze on you as you spread your legs spanning between the two loungers and work on the other side. The minimal coverage from your suit leaves little to the imagination.

Joel stands up with his back to you and his hands on his waist. He shakes his head like he is telling himself not to get involved and closes the engine compartment. His knee turned outward just slightly in a slutty stance as he waits for the hydraulics to finish lowering the lid.

He pushes the top firmly to make sure it latches, and his arms flex as he puts his weight into it. He looked so strong. So capable. So competent. Masculine in every sense of the word.

As he turns towards you he pulls the front of his shirt up to wipe the sweat off his face. His tanned and sweat slicked skin glistens. You can see his tastefully toned abdomen in all its glory. Your eyes can’t help but notice how his jeans hug his hips and a messy thatch of hair trails up his belly.

“Got a water on ya?” He interrupts your gawking.

He wipes his face once more with the shirt before letting it fall back in place. He scrunched his eyes and his lips pursed while he waits for you to respond.

“Yeah. Sure.” You snap out of your daze and reach into your cooler for a water bottle and bring it over to him.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

The bottle crinkles under his grasp as he makes quick work of it.

He hands it back to you, empty, and smirks when your fingers feather over his.

He gathers his things and poorly wipes down his grease stains with the cleanest of his shop rags.

The back of your boat looks recognizable again with a full length seat spanning the width of the boat and another padded lounge area above it. Your other favorite place to spread out in the sun.

Joel tosses his things onto the dock. He turns around and leans on the edge of the boat. His fingers tap the sides and he is stalling his departure, maybe deciding if he is going to make a move or be on his way.

You are also wondering if you should just say goodbye and be done with it. It would be the right thing to do, after all. Even though your no-good husband was probably knee deep in his mistress at this very moment. You had little loyalty to him these days, and tolerated just enough to get by with your comfortable life.

“She’s a real beauty.” He slides his hand along the fiberglass edge, slowly and intimately. He pushes himself back up to his feet. He is towering over you again.

“Excuse me?” You know he isn’t really talking about the boat, but you play dumb.

“Would love to see how she rides.” He eyes you up and down and has a deadly serious expression on his face. He chews the inside of his cheek while he waits for your reaction.

You were done for now.

“I’m sure my husband paid you well. Better check your work, and all. Be thorough.”

Joel’s serious expression tries to hold back a grin. His brow softens.

“Alright, I’ll be thorough.”

You bite your lip to hold back your smile and hand him the keys.

Joel goes into full captain mode and starts the boat up. He jumps onto the dock to unwind the ropes from the metal cleats. He was a sight to behold. Letting out a few grunts as he scooched down to the ropes.

You make yourself comfortable on the passenger side lounger, knowing full well you will be in his line of sight while he drives. You grab yourself a wine cooler.

“Listen to her purr.” He taps the steering wheel as he gets back on the boat. He stands at the wheel and moves the throttle just enough to ease out of the slip. He tunes the radio to something playing yacht rock.

It doesn’t take long to get through the channel. The lake is quiet today.

When you finally reach open water Joel pushes the throttle and your sporty boat glides over the waves. The breeze is refreshing and the occasional mist from the waves when the boat catches them just right feels good.

From his angle Joel has a perfect view of your cleavage. You bring your knees up and knock them to the side so he can get an eyeful of your entire body. The suntan lotion makes you shine in the sunlight and you smell tropical and delicious. Coconuts and vanilla. You let your hair down and it blows in the breeze as you cruise along.

After a few minutes you are in the middle of the lake. There is little boat traffic and you are far enough from land on either side. You look like specs in a sea of water.

You reach your hands back and untie your top and let it fall to the floor. You lay back with your chin up and arms to your side, pretending to soak in the sun. All you have left is the tiny strip of fabric barely covering your mound.

It makes you feel alive and rebellious. No one can see your naked chest. No one except for the one you are showing off for.

You are not looking at him, but you know he is staring at your body. You know his jeans are getting uncomfortably tight. You know where this is going.

“Goddamn.” You hear him mutter and out of the corner of your eye you see his arm move to rake through his hair.

Joel slows down the boat and kills the engine. The radio continues to play softly, but the sounds of the waves clacking against the boat are much louder.

“Does it bother you if I do this? I don’t want tan lines.” You innocently ask as you turn your head over your shoulder at him.

Joel is eyeing you.

“Bother aint the word for it, sugar.” He rakes his hand down his face and scratches his scruff. He crosses his arms in front of him and leans against the captain's chair.

You puff your chest out as you adjust in your seat.

“You gonna stop teasin’ and get over here already?” He asks.

You drape your legs back properly to the floor and push yourself up, sliding your skimpy suit bottoms down. You saunter over to Joel, naked and confident.

He is still looking greasy and miserable, but considerably more refreshed. Your eyes go to the bulge in his denim and you reach out to grab his waistband. You want to climb him like a tree.

“I will...” you hook your fingers over the top of his jeans. “.. if you keep this little boat ride between us.” You trail one of your hands lightly over his zipper.

Joel looks you straight in the eyes with a feral hunger. It sends a shiver down your spine.

“Deal.” He enunciates it with finality. No more charades.

He grabs your waist and pulls you into his lap as he sits back in the seat properly. Your legs are straddling him and you can feel his hardening cock grind against you. He presses his mouth into yours and roughly pushes his tongue into you. His hands roam your body.

You break away for a moment and grab for his shirt. He pulls it over his head and lets it fall to the floor. You bring your hands to press flat against his chest. His skin is firm and his muscles are tense. He smells sweaty and metallic. It isn’t pleasant, but it brings out some animalistic lust inside you and you don’t want him any other way.

His calloused hands find your tender breasts and he grabs at you. His rough fingertips brush over your nipples and he thumbs your hardening peaks. He is so rough, and it is exactly what you need.

He breaks his mouth away from yours and nips at your jawline and the supple skin in your neck. His movements are ravenous. His hands travel further down your body until he has them firmly on your hips.

He hoists you up so you are sitting on top of the steering wheel. You brace one arm on the side windshield of the boat and the other grabs onto Joel’s hair as he dives into your pussy.

He licks a broad stroke from your asshole all the way up to your clit, taking pause to swirl his tongue when he reaches your most sensitive part.

You let out a moan and buck into him, tangling your fingers in his mess of curls and holding on for dear life. His scruff scratches against your tender skin.

Joel pushes further into you and puts your legs over his shoulders, giving himself more control. His nose nudges your clit while he presses his tongue inside you and laps at the wetness he is extruding from you.

You lay your head back and gasp for breath as he just goes at you deeper and with more ferocity. It is a good thing he is supporting you with his shoulders as your legs are becoming weak. He digs into your hips to pull you even closer into his face.

“Joel! Oh my… god.” You can barely speak. He is devouring you and you can feel your insides surge with elation as he worships you. Your thighs start to clamp firmer on him as you feel the wave of pleasure building and building.

He pulls away briefly and sneers up at you.

“What a messy cunt she is.” His words are crude and vulgar. His mouth is as filthy as he looks. It makes you pulse even more.

He resumes lapping at your folds and is relentless. Pressure is building inside you and you grind against him as he starts to pull away and deny your release. You whine a little, relishing the final brush from his scruff leaving your thigh.

You were so close to coming. This was surely payback for teasing him.

“Ain’t you a sight to see.” He sits upright in his chair and keeps you at arms length with his hands still firmly grabbing your hips and your legs slip off his shoulders. He eyes your swollen and needy cunt. “I got just the thing for you.” He brings a hand to his jeans and unzips.

The audible moan you make when you see its size makes him smirk. He is already hard and leaking. His shaft is impossibly thick. Uncut and girthy.

“You want this?” He strokes his full length and the head of his cock is swollen and seeping as he pumps himself. You have never seen such a beautiful dick. You feel like a feral cat, ready to beg for scraps.

You let out a moan and slide yourself back into his lap. The heavy weight of his cock slaps against your belly. You try to rut up against the underside of his shaft. Anything for some friction. He denies you contact and takes it back into his hand.

“Gonna’ have to ask real nice, sweetheart.”

“Joel. Please.” You beg.

“Please what?”

“Fuck me.”

Joel shifts under you and gets up from his seat, pulling you up with him. One arm finds the small of your back and pulls you up close to him, and the other he snakes between you. He brushes two fingers up and down the length of your slit until they are wet. He thumbs at your clit and plunges his two fingers deep inside you.

The stretch is a lot to take so suddenly but you are primed and begging to have any part of him inside you. His fingers were thick. If you weren’t soaking wet for him you might shudder at how gritty and filthy they were.

He can feel your walls flutter around him as he thrusts his fingers deep, finding that perfect spot inside that makes you come undone.

“There she is.” He smirks as he looks over his nose and down to you and watches your eyes go wide when he touches you just right. Writhing by his hand.

He fucks you until you come, soaking his fingers with your release and breathlessly moaning his name.

He pulls his fingers from you and licks them clean with his tongue. Savoring your sweetness. Pleased with his handiwork.

While you are looking fucked out but still wanting more he doesn’t give you time to recover.

“Oh, did you want a taste, sugar?” He doesn’t wait for you to respond and presses his mouth into yours. You can taste yourself on his tongue. Under normal circumstances you may have found that revolting, but he had a way of making you feral for any contact with him.

You moan as he wraps his tongue around yours. His taste mixed with yours is intoxicating. He reluctantly bites at your lip when you find the strength to pull away.

As much as you enjoy being pleasured by his touch, your mind is clouded by desire to have his cock inside you. Under the baking sun, nothing could quench your thirst more than having his cum spilling into your throat.

“Your turn.” You bite your tongue as you hold back a wicked smile and press away from him. You tug at his jeans and boxers enough that they slide down him. He hastily kicks off his work boots and steps out of them fully.

You take in his perfectly sculpted body. Under all that filth he really was a sight for sore eyes.

You drag your hand down his chest and your fingers trace over his thick happy trail. You step towards him and back him to the edge of the boat while your hand wraps around his shaft. Your delicate, soft fingers are laughable in contrast to his size. You slide a finger down his full length, tracing his pulsing vein. You tease his sensitive tip with a feather touch. He is ready to burst and you don’t want to wait another moment.

He widens his stance and groans softly as you drop to your knees and take him in your mouth. Your hands hold him at the base while you swirl your tongue around him and lick the underside of his cock.

His fingers tangle in your hair as he firmly holds onto you.

You bob your head slowly as you take in more and more of him and he bucks into you. You move your hands to wrap around the back of his thighs as you take him deeper.

You can feel his restraint to take it slow and gentle but it is waning the longer you have him in your throat. Your eyes swell with tears as you try to relax and let him fuck your mouth.

“Look at you. Taking me so well.” He rests his head back and grunts as you pull back and suck on his tip. The salty taste of his precum invigorating you to suck harder as you hollow your cheeks. You feel his cock twitch and pulse and he is so close to bursting inside you.

He suddenly pulls you off of him with a rough grip in your hair. Your swollen lips and open mouth looking pitiful as it loses contact from him.

“Not yet.” He groans. “Gonna make that pussy mine first.” His words fire out through clenched teeth and his eyes are blown out and dark. He pulls you up by your hair. You gasp at the audacity and his roughness.

You stumble over your words of protest and excitement as he pushes you over to the back seat. Even if it’s morally fucked up, you do want him to claim you.

He bends you over the back seat so your knees are perched on the seat and your body is splayed over the back. He pushes his body up against you and nudges you with his cock as he leans over you to speak into your ear.

“Look.” He sighs, picking up that you are having some concerns about this behavior. “Seen him fuck more than one woman on this boat. He’s a loser.”

“Don’t I know it.” You nod in agreement.

He presses his cock against your ass and has you pinned down under his weight. He slides a hand up the side of your thigh and around your front to make a little room between you and the seat. He gently grazes your clit and lets his middle finger dip into you to gather some of your slick. There is no hiding how wet you are for Joel Miller.

“I’m gonna fuck you right, f’this is what you want.” He kisses you in the crook of your neck as you push back against his cock.

You want him inside you. You need him inside you.

“Fuck me, Joel.” He drags his free hand down your spine as he stands upright. You arch your back as he slinks his hand between your legs to press them open.

His cock is still wet from your saliva and he rubs your slick over it for good measure.

“Alright, sugar.” He pushes the head of his cock into you and you claw at the seat under you. His fingers were a lot but they paled in comparison to this. He grunts as he pushes in deeper, taking it slow and letting his cock drag heavy against your walls.

“Goddamn you’re tight.” He picks up the pace and digs his nails into your sides as he pulls you hard against him.

The stretch from him hurts so good. With each thrust he makes more room for himself inside you and you welcome him in eagerly.

He grabs a fistfull of your ass and slaps you hard. You wince at the sudden sting. He claws his fingers back into your sides and holds you tight. He has to be close to finishing. He has been painfully hard for too long to hold out much longer. You are almost there yourself. Filled to the brim by his thick cock.

He lifts one leg onto the seat for more leverage as he pounds into you. He pulls you up so your back is flush with his chest and furiously grabs at your breasts. Each plunge of his cock goes deeper and harder. His hands grab desperately at anything to hold onto, pinching at your skin.

You are teetering on the edge of release. Screaming his name loudly where no one can hear but him. It's cathartic.

He pushes you back down roughly and comes undone inside you. Snarling and panting as he unloads his hot cum deep inside you.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” He pants.

You moan and milk his cock as you ride out your shared climax.

As your breathing slows he plants his foot back down and eases out of you slowly. His spend drips out of you and down your leg. You feel like a slut. Joel’s slut.

You crawl down into the seat and lay on your back, with the biggest smile on your face. You have never felt more alive.

You both take a much needed dip in the lake before ending your boat ride. It is refreshing and intimate floating with Joel. For a greasy boat mechanic, he was good company.

When you get back to the marina and Joel parks the boat the moment is bittersweet. You know this can’t happen again and you know you will never stop wanting it to.

“She rides good.” Joel teases as he peels himself away from the captain's chair and goes to step off the boat. “Hope my works’ to your satisfaction, ma’am.”

“Joel?” You bite your lip as you smile at him.

“Mmm?” He looks at you from the dock.

You smile, shyly, struggling to find the words. Joel makes a zipper motion across his lips. He knows exactly what you are trying to say.

“Between you and me, sweetheart.”

With a wink he turns and disappears down the dock.

You resume your leisuring in the sun, plotting when you can do this again.

As always love to my sluts 🧡 @magpiepills @legendary-pink-dot @exquisiteserotonin @for-a-longlongtime @pink-whiskey-woman

@youandmeand5bucks @sparklefarts38 @redhotkitchen

And tagging friends who I hope will enjoy this one too. Love you all, thank you for supporting my shenanigans 🧡

@toxicanonymity @joelsgreys @yxtkiwiyxt @itwasntimethatdidit40 @thebeldroramscal

@schnarfer @tonysopranosrobe @milla-frenchy @nerdieforpedro @mountainsandmayhem

@sin-djarin @strang3lov3 @guiltyasdave @iamskyereads @maggiemayhemnj

@gasolinerainbowpuddles @yourcoolauntie @inept-the-magnificent @604to647 @sawymredfox

@murder-wife @pedroswife69 @yorksgirl @moonlitbirdie @pedropeach

Banner by me. Divider credit to @saradika-graphics

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal fandom #the last of us hbo #the last of us #arcanefox fics #see how she rides #boatmechanic!joel #boat mechanic smut #pedro pascal #sleazy joel

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yukizme · 1 month ago

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meet the residents . . .

. . . of SUNFLOWER SQUARE ! — a two-building complex that serves as a residential as well as a commercial centre located in the very heart of the city. sunflower square pride itself on supporting various businesses such as a flower shop, a law firm, a security company, a tattoo studio and their very own café on the upper ground floor; all while maintaining a tranquil and peaceful environment for its residents and patrons. for more details and information about housing plans and/or lease agreements, contact sunflowersqadmin.jp.

yn yln — apt. 444 ; 11th floor.

( art deco by lana del ray // pressed flowers // knowing it's for the better // glitter on the floor )

runs the super freak tattoo shop and routinely cries over the two headed calf as if it were her own child. has a pinterest board named "poems that made me cry on my kitchen floor" and when she has a bad day, scrolls through it to make it worse.

has a cat called coochie and the name has been subjected to many, many, many debates held by her social circle and her only argument has been that it is synonymous with pussy.

would've happily dated sukuna had he not called her baby ugly and lowkey felt it when yuji said that sukuna and her act like a bitter divorced couple who never even dated.

has an nth number of tattoos and piercings and doesn't remember how she got most of them and at this point, she's scared to ask. (she isn't allowed to drink more without supervision anymore because she almost got a face tattoo the last time they all went clubbing.)

sukuna ryomen — apt. 609 ; 12th floor

( ivy by frank ocean // wilted flowers // pink dye // finding escape in escaping )

runs the flower shop, "i'm so thorny." and has never elaborated why he named it that. he thinks it's hilarious. yuji thinks it's fucking stupid.

hates the girl who owns the tattoo studio below his shop in the commercial block, because a. her demon cat ripped apart his expensive as FUCK dahlias, b. his (half) nephew works at her studio and he cannot stand that betrayal and c. he's tired of explaining that he actually runs the flower shop while that witch with pink bows in her hair is the tattoo artist.

deep, deep down he wants that fucker of a cat to like him so bad but he once pspspspspsps-ed at it and it hissed at him and he's been bitter ever since.

really hates his nephew giving out free flowers every time she stops by their floor; the fact that he keeps those ugly fuckers in stock is completely unrelated.

satoru gojo — apt. 382 ; 9th floor

( christmas kids by roar // getting to know someone again and again // clear blue skies // violet nail polish )

part time model who has way too much free time and makes it everyone's problem. he's temporarily (nanami is working on making it permanent) banned from the building common area without supervision because one very bad day, gojo was bored.

is filthy rich and isn't humble about it. everyone hates having him as their pick in the building's secret santa which is mandatory — thank you, utahime — because he's impossible to shop for solely because of how expensive his daily stuff is.

no one mentions the Thing he has going on with suguru, mainly because they value their peace of mind but it very much is a Thing. everyone is sick of their Thing.

he's also coochie's dad (he sent yn increasing unhinged texts until she agreed to co-parent) but yn refuses to call him anything but a deadbeat because she walked in on him and geto making out and it wasn't even 9 a.m.

suguru geto — apt. 193 ; 9th floor

( smoke signals by phoebe bridgers // broken lighters // if you go, you have to stay gone // purple skies )

is an artist and he's so fucking good at it. has his own art gallery a few blocks away and his paintings are so targeted yet so open to interpretation and he has his own little fan base consisting of girls in their 20s and art students and people seeking god.

has to have a required amount of alone time or lay in bed at least once during the day or he starts to follow through with the various threats he has made. (once gojo tried to annoy him but setting alarms on geto's phone to go off every 5 minutes and the next day, gojo was seen wearing a bucket hat that seemingly stayed glued to his head. everyone bet on it being a bald patch.)

has a few piercings that he got done by choso and lets yn decide which one he's gonna wear whenever he changes them.

watched the haunting of the hill house and the haunting of the bly manor with the girls and nanami and cried.

utahime iori — apt. 396 ; 10th floor

( falling behind by laufey // alone with their loved ones in the past // cherries // pink and white )

owns the café on the upper ground floor, "we have coffee" and runs it like the navy. the sign outside the glass door says "these freaks are banned" along with a photo of gojo and geto and another picture of gojo with bright blue sunglasses and geto with a neon green wig.

met yn and shoko in university and they've all suffered through the horrors i.e the 20s together.

loves jewellery and gets matching stuff for her girls, yn, shoko and yuki, whenever she can. her favourite the set of matching pendants all four of them have; a kiwi (shoko); a cherry (yn); an orange (yuki) and a strawberry (for herself.)

once brought in nine kittens and managed to keep them hidden for two weeks because they all escaped and she has been mourning them ever since. prime number 2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17, 19 and 23 have their own photo album in her phone.

shoko ieiri — apt. 103 ; 10th floor

( last night's mascara by griff // expired makeup // fluorescent lights // forever being eleven years old on that playground with no friends )

teaches biotechnology at the local university and is easily the most liked professor over there. calls off classes because she saw a cat and got lost trying to pet it or because she took too much ibuprofen and can now hear colours; there's no in between.

once went to a couples counselling session with utahime to see how long it would take for the counsellor to realise that they weren't together. the session was over in an hour and a half and they had been advised to talk about their problems and communicate their feelings explicitly. yn has not let this go.

knows the most about everyone in their circle and she's mad at someone, she just casually drops the most insane piece of information and watches everyone argue. everyone likes her.

tried to confess to utahime but she just replied with "thank you!" and shoko doesn't think she can get drunk enough to dissect that interaction or confront her again.

yuki tsukumo — apt. 288 ; 11th floor

( arabella by arctic monkeys // silver jewellery // never existing until someone asks you how you are // animal print )

joined yn's studio because the ad said "hot people with decent drawing skills required + we have a cat" and was hired on the spot after she drew yn a perfect five-pointer star.

tried to bake cookies for her friends one day and managed to cause a blackout. ino still hasn't forgiven her because his essasy was due at 11:59 and his computer crashed and it did not submit; yuki thinks it's his fault for starting to write an essay at 11:27.

has multiple piercings, mostly in her ears and yn and her facetime every morning to decide her earrings for the day.

tattoos yn all the time along with choso. cherries, hearts, stars, dinosaurs, flowers, anything she can think of. her favourite is one with a small cherry shaped like a heart; just like the one on her own middle finger.

choso kamo — apt. 492 ; 12th floor

( strawberry wine by noah kahan // handwritten letters // missing the sunset by a few minutes // choosing to stargazing but it's cloudy )

works at the super freak tattoo shop and has been solely responsible for all the plants around the studio; his personal favourites are christofern, salad and prick.

his texts to yn include photos of plants followed by "look (o゜▽゜)o☆", "yuji asked u to stop by the shop because he has a new combo of flowers for you :D"; "sukuna just called coochie something from pandora's box btw can we slash his tyres ?? !!!!!!!!" and variants.

has a tiny crush on yuki but thinks that yuki and yn have a thing because they're always calling each other very affectionate names and choso thinks that he connected the dots.

sukuna yelled at him for two hours when he learnt that choso started working at the studio part-time and choso went back the next day with cacti and sheer willpower and made his position permanent. choso's mantle photo was placed on the side table by the couch that very evening.

kento nanami — apt. 307 ; 11th floor

( too sweet by hozier // beige and blue // time passing isn't an apology // blueberries )

works in finance. truth be told, no one from the circle knows exactly what his job is or his designation, they just know that he's very serious about his job and that he truly hates someone named "matthew" because of the phrase he often says, "matthew for the love of god — !"

cried when he spent four weeks tutoring ino for his physics paper and he got 3/100.

gojo hangs out so much at his office that they had to put a sign that said "no gojo allowed inside"; the said sign was promptly ignored and nanami had to visit the hr department because of some very interesting words thrown around in his office when he saw jack frost's cousin swirling in his chair.

has only one tattoo but will never ever disclose where it is and what it is.

hiromi hiruguma — apt. 203 ; 11th floor

( lover's grip by them & i // love letters // forced to be the one who got away // banana bread )

has his very own law firm and his office is on the same floor as yn's studio in the commercial block. it's both his worst nightmare and the best thing because the only other choice was next to sukuna's flower shop and he Cannot have that.

his number is saved as "sexie lawyer," "sex c attorknee" and variants in everyone's phone and he has given up on trying to change that.

has a group chat with nanami, shiu and kusakabe and all of them talk so much shit about their work and the other tenants. one time, they were so in deep figuring out the truth behind the divorce of apartment 105 that hiruguma had to make them sign an nda.

since his office is on the same floor as yn's studio, she sometimes hangs out there when she doesn't have any clients and he doesn't have any cases and they watch buzzfeed unsolved.

takuma ino — apt. 338 ; 6th floor

( cherry wine by grentperez // splintered skateboards // but i miss you like a little kid // temporary tattoos )

works as an intern in nanami's company but he might as well be working at the tattoo studio with how much time he spends there. he has his own small desk and a chair in their backroom and he nearly cried when he first found out.

once pulled the fire alarm because he forgot the papers nanami asked him to get and he'd chew on glass before disappointing his mentor. nanami had to make it very clear that he's allowed to forget things but he's not allowed to pull the fire alarm for the hell of it.

he once intentionally placed bread crumbs outside kusakabe's apartment and then procured a few ducks to give the older man a surprise because he insulted ino's hello kitty tank top.

once fell down 28 stairs because there was a double rainbow and he had already downed three red bulls. he regrets nothing.

atsuya kusakabe — apt. 299 ; 6th floor

( softcore by the neighbourhood // fog in winter mornings // i am not a violent dog, i don't know why i bite // cocktails with tiny umbrellas )

no one knows where he actually works; it could either be with nanami or with hiruguma or it could be somewhere entirely different. (it's actually with shiu and toji, he's the head of their marketing department and he has no intention of telling the others where he works lest they bother him there too like they do at his apartment.)

surprisingly likes coochie and takes her to work with him if shiu doesn't have her already. she's their mascot and he'd never admit it to anyone but she has her own small desk with toys and her own name cards.

got forced to dress up for halloween by ino for the party and showed up as the grinch, only to find out that it was just a normal get together and he was only one in costume — he has hated that kid ever since; his hair was green for two fucking weeks.

his most played song on spotify last year was symphony no. 7 in a major, op. 92: iv. allegro con brio by beethoven and shoko gave him so much shit for it that he never ever asked for aux again.

shiu kong — apt. 692 ; 7th floor

( into it by chase atlantic // chevy corvette // always borrowing grief from the future // sunlight on water surfaces )

owns a security firm that he built from the ground up and is probably the most laidback guy ever. babysits coochie when yn goes out and is secretly coochie's biggest fan.

comes from old money but never tells anyone about it outright. casually mentions stuff like "the old manor" or "the private school i went to" and then proceeds to drop the most insane lore when asked about it.

lives in the apartment complex only because he was bored in his penthouse on the other side of the city and watching yn and sukuna argue has got to be the most fun thing here. he once saw sukuna spray yn with water and then proceeded to watch yn push him into the lobby fountain. no, he did not intervene.

has been babysitting megumi since forever and the teen has his own room in his apartment. toji is jealous because his kid actually enjoys shiu's company while he just gets called "shit clown" by his own blood.

toji fushiguro — apt. 375 ; 6th floor

( party monster by the weeknd // half finished whiskey // something other than time that heals all wounds // headlights on the ground when it's drizzling )

works right under shiu at his security firm and does not treat shiu as his boss at all. shiu threatens to fire him every hour but never does. no one is surprised why.

has a fun ton of money due to his job but he's stingy as FUCK. megumi pretended to not know him once when toji had a breakdown over which cereal to take home with him while standing in the aisle.

lives in the apartment right below shiu and calls him when he's out of creamer for his coffee and has shiu pour it from above. yn, who lives right under toji's unit, is sick of them.

will literally never answer his phone, so if someone needs something, they have to either ask someone on his floor to ring his bell (continuously) or go to yn's apartment and throw stones up at his fire escape. (shiu banned them from his apartment after ino fell out the window and on the fire escape; on a completely unrelated not, ino is now banned from standing/sitting/laying down/dilly-dallying/attempting to catch pigeons near any window without adult-er supervision).

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hypnzo · 1 month ago

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Flowers wilt overtime, so...

Leo Valdez x Reader

(please excuse the spanish if there are mistranslations.. English is not my first language!!)

Spring has always been beautiful, it's the season of time where flowers usually bloom under the rainbow rays of the sunlight that peaks through the clouds.

Flowers felt like colors that shun through the vibrant green leaves, appearing out its stem from the rich nutrients of the soil underneath.

Adoring flowers from afar was one thing, you'd often see its bloom in the demeter cabin's garden. They were beautiful, healthy, and obviously well-taken care of, which made it a little hard to resist from plucking out a piece of flower from their garden.

However, receiving flowers was also one thing, and that slowly turned to a routine at least once a week ever since you've got Leo Valdez on your side of the line.

“Hey Sunshine,” Leo grinned, tucking his hand behind his back, trying not to look suspicious. Though he did already look suspicious enough just immediately from the tone of his voice, but you decided to play along just to see that smile of his, “how's your day been!”

Before you could respond, he popped the flower in front of you, “Ta-da! How do you like that?” he says, adding a flare of wink which complemented that sweet grin on his face, “specifically from your Leo Valdez.”

“Wow Leo, I.. never would've expected that,” an amused smile twitched from the corner of your lips as you looked at him with a raised brow before holding the small bouquet of flowers he got you.

“Uh-huh,” Leo quips out before grinning, “anyway, do you like it? Looking beautiful, huh?” he tucks a hair strand behind your ear, causing you to form a small smile on your lips.

“Yeah, they are beautiful. Thank you, Leo,” you say as you look him in the eyes. His eyes softened before forming a small laugh on his lips.

“Gee, you're not getting soft on me, are you?” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows with that stupid, sweet grin of his.

Rolling your eyes lightheartedly, you muttered out a small, "Of course not,” but you couldn't resist the smile that appeared on your lips after seeing that signature smile of his.

Of course, flowers don't last forever. Unfortunately they wilt every time. As much as you try to keep your flowers alive, they just can't seem to appear lively which makes you question how the demeter kids do it...

Though, that really isn't much of a question considering their powers and heritage.. You've tried to ask them to help you out, but unfortunately you've been confused over and over and the results were always the same.

It didn't help when the Demeter kids apologized since they cannot keep a flower from wilting. I guess that's just how nature goes... “Bummer,” you muttered out in a whisper.

As you watched your flowers tilt slowly over time, you heard a knock outside your cabin. “Who is it?” you answered while walking towards the door.

“Guess who, cariño,” (sweetheart) a familiar voice echoed through your ears and surprised you after you opened the door. Of course it was your boyfriend, Leo Valdez, with his usual smile.

You couldn't help but smile after you realized it was him. “Leo, what are you doing here?” you asked curiously, raising a brow from his sudden presence.

“Rude,” Leo stated with a mock pout. “Did you not want to see me, sweetness?” he asked, trying to look wounded by your words. It was clear that he wasn't, not when he's trying his best to suppress that grin of his.

“Of course I wanted to see you,” you said with a smile, brushing off his dramatic antics. “Just– what are you doing here? Do you.. need something?”

Leo rummaged something from his newly built-in pocket, taking something out of it really carefully as if it's too fragile and too much pressure would crumble it apart.

Giving you a grin, he showed you something he artistically crafted just for you.

It was pieces of metals stuck together which formed it into a flower. You were struck by the sight, not exactly expecting this, but this piece, you couldn't help but smile knowing it was definitely something Leo would make.

It gave you a rush of giddiness around your body knowing he spent his time to evenly craft something just so he'd see that smile on your face.

“Your reaction's worth it, mi amor,” (my love) Leo winked, which made your earlier surprise melt away and replaced with a smile on your lips, a tint of glint glossing your eyes.

“Leo.. you,” you giggled out, “you didn't have to, y'know?” you say as you took the metal flowers in your hand, it was a perfectly crafted rose—three roses, to be exact.

“It's not that I was required to,” he says shyly, scratching the back of his neck before looking back at you, “I wanted to do it. For you, y'know?”

“And plus, those flowers I give you every week? They wilt all the time,” he poked your side with a teasing smile before he spoke again, “don't even get me started with how sad you look whenever you have to witness those little things wilt.”

He paused.

“So why not craft you something that won't wilt?” he says, exaggerating the 'wont' which cracked up a smile on your face.

“I love you,” you muttered out before pulling him into a kiss. Leo was surprised but melted instantly, priding himself internally for his creation—one that put a smile on your face.

Pulling away, he couldn't help but smile while your foreheads were pressed to one another. Before you both could pull away fully, he pressed a quick peck on your lips. ”Yo también te amo, querida.” (I love you too, darling.)

Bonus

It had already become a practice for Leo—he would often get you flowers at least once a week and soon enough this became a routine for you ever since you got together.

Leo, of course, willingly always brought you flowers. It wasn't like a routine for him where he just had to. He wanted to do it—which he'd often reason it was just because "he loves you,”which was true!

However, sometimes, he just wants to see that smile of yours and admire the way it never fails to appear on your face whenever you receive a flower from him.

Oftentimes, he'd pluck out at least one petal from the flowers and take it with him. Whenever he's not able to come by through the cabin and see the flowers, that petal helps him to determine if the flowers have already wilted or not.

So, just like clockwork, once sees that the petal have wilted, he'll immediately run over to the demeter cabin, politely and awkwardly asking for another set of flowers.

This became normal to the demeter kids as they have gotten used to him suddenly appearing outside their cabin, asking for flowers.

(They should honestly start charging him, they're most probably considering it..)

Leo saw that the petal was almost wilting. Usually, he'd run over to the demeter cabin by now, but.. he brainstormed for a while and thought: Why not make something else?

His mind was set on flowers, but he was wondering how the hell he was gonna make flowers as a Hephaestus kid. Personally for him, he doesn't see himself being interested in planting flowers, that feels so out of character for him!

He did have some left over metals from his earlier works. He took one good look at them and realized an idea: Metal flowers!

Leo immediately got to work, though he's not gonna deny it, it definitely took a lot of tries. He wanted it perfect exactly for you as his lover, so he spent hours on making it and trying to perfect it each time.

“And.. done!” he beamed out a smile as he held the metal flower in his hand, “Man, Leo Valdez, aren't you a genius?” he says with a sigh of relief.

It took a lot of hours, but at last, it was finally done. Was he proud of it? Yeah. Was he nervous to show you? Yeah..

But when you gave him that smile, he swooned over it so fast and all the nerves that were making him sweat on his palms suddenly melted away.

#percy jackson #leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #pjo #pjo fandom #all the ladies luv leo

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petermorwood · 4 months ago

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More Sword Questions...

These are further questions prompted by a post already long enough that I’m not reblogging the whole thing. It’s here.

@softness-and-shattering (who posted the original Ask) wrote:

Thank you so much! What Im getting is that there arent any exact rules, different people and places mixed and matched sword features as they liked. Is that more or less correct? The swords that are green, is that oxidization? Theyre very pretty. And if fullers are to reduce sword weight, what are ridges for? Thanks again :)

*****

(1) Yes, it's oxidation. The uncomplimentary word is "tarnish", the complimentary word is "patina". Bronze swords in museums can be various colours ranging from green (verdigris)...

...through golden...

...to shades of brown and almost black.

I don’t know why (archaeological metallurgy is a mystery to me) but at a guess it's related to the acidity of the ground in which they were found, the proportions of copper / tin / other metals in their bronze.

It may also be the point at which conservators decided they'd gone far enough with that particular artefact and further restoration / cleaning would cause damage.

*****

(2) Ridges on sword-blades add stiffness, is the remnant of the bar or rod of steel from which the sword was made, and are created as the blade's final form is hammered out on either side, leaving a sort of raised centre-parting.

(If this is over-simplified or just plain wrong and swordsmiths reading it are going "Nooo!", please correct me!) ;->

Here's one example with a very prominent ridge, from the Victoria & Albert Museum in London...

...and another with a more restrained centre-line from the Metropolitan Museum in New York.

*****

(3) Sword shapes and features changed depending on functional requirements. If a shape worked and its use didn’t change, it stayed the same. The Roman gladius and Japanese katana are two examples of not much change in shape over several centuries.

Demands of fashion also played a part in what kind of sword was worn when and with what.

While swords (not just Messers or falchions or other "fighting knives") do appear without armour in medieval art...

...swords only became a regular part of civilian dress in the mid-late 1400s.

In Germany this was called a Reitschwert - "riding sword" - for self-defence when out (riding) in ordinary clothes. In Italy it was a spada da lato - "side-sword" - for what's now called EDC (every-day-carry) not just in war. In Spain it was an espada ropera - "robe sword" - for wear with regular clothes rather than armour.

That last one, worn down, mispronounced or just plain pinched, became "rapier", and because it was worn every day, with stylish garments, it became yet another way in which to show off.

The most common Europe-wide rapier was a "swept hilt", comprising bars and loops, while Spain and Spanish-influenced places like Italy preferred the "cup-hilt", which had a different style of swordplay.

Cup-hilts are familiar from movies because it's easy to dress up a sport-fencing sword as something much older. Here's a stage-combat modern épée and two real rapiers.

Cup-hilts could be plain metal bowls like those, or beautiful examples of chiselled, pierced metalwork.

Swept-hilts could be equally impressive.

They were proof that their wearers were dedicated followers of fashion, men of wealth and taste - and, of course, always armed and just as always ready to use what they carried at the drop of whatever was just dropped.

Duelling became a craze, laws against it were ignored, any excuse would do, and Shakespeare summed it up nicely:

MERCUTIO: Nay, and there were two such, we should have none shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou? why, thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more or a hair less in his beard than thou hast; thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes. What eye but such an eye would spy out such a quarrel? Thy head is as full of quarrels as an egg is full of meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg for quarrelling. Thou hast quarrelled with a man for coughing in the street, because he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun. Didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter? With another for tying his new shoes with old riband? And yet thou wilt tutor me from quarrelling?

(That one about the doublet had echoes in 1922, with The Straw Hat Riot in New York, involving assaults on men who hadn't stopped wearing straw hats by the fashion-approved date of mid-September. At least nobody got run through...)

Oddly enough, portraits which include rapiers usually show swept-hilts, even in Spanish portraits where cup-hilts might be expected (I've seen a couple, but not many). Perhaps the artist didn’t have one to hand, or thought the swept-hilt style was more visually interesting.

The smallsword (shorter, lighter, less cumbersome to wear) replaced the rapier, and it too featured a lot in portraits. It was a piece of masculine jewellery, with a stiff narrow blade on an elegant hilt which might be metal...

...or some more exotic material like mother-of-pearl or porcelain.

Then fashion changed again, smallswords also went away, and once again the only people wearing swords on a regular basis were uniformed military types, whose swords could be all sorts of shapes and sizes depending on branch of service and function.

Even when that function is just to be part of regalia, and look good on parade.

#arms and armour #swords #shapes of swords #styles of swords

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hceinarchive · 2 years ago

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portrait for the inquisition please hold still for 6 hours

#my beautiful co-players and dm made so much fanart please take my *checks notes* uh #token and 2 sketches #all art #sketches #da wilte #siofra and dill belong to @sirguyofdykesborn and @ffc1cb

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yourdarlingness · 1 year ago

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✦ Gothic Lolita ~ themed　names — prns — titles

╰　DAY 4 of @rumblepumm ' s event !

NAMES ︙　lilith . lilithe . gothita . gothitess(e) . raven . raveniette . ravenie . bella(trix) . corbin . lacey . laciene . laciette . frill . frille . frilly . frilliette . frilleine . skully . skulliette . skulliene . skelly . chiro / chiroptelle . chiroptairre . chiraelle . bat . batsy . chira . chiropteranne . coffine . cofette . casketta . caskette . caskeite . imortalle . imortella . mana . celestia . celeste

PRNS ︙　da(e) / dark . fae / fang . bat . fri / frill . lae / lace . cof / coffin . thou / thorn . par / parasol . ro / rose . sku / skull . 🦇 . 🖤 . 🌑 . 🥀 . ⛓️ . ⚰️ . 💀

TITLES ︙　the gothic lolita . the gothic [x] . the [x] with a parasol . prns gloomy majesty . prns shadow . the lolita of the night . prns elegant presence . the [x] of (rose and) thorns . the [x] of roses . the moon-kissed lolita . the gothic lolita of the castle . the lolita of moonlight . prns wilting rose . prn who dances under the moonlight . prn who is dressed in all black . the [x] in frills

[x] — any nouns　;　examples below

the angel with a parasol

the ghoul of (rose and) thorns

the idol in frills

#🦑　sea floor　┈　♡#hopefully some of the titles aren't too far off #rumblebdayevent #name list #name suggestions #gothic lolita names #pronoun suggestions #pronoun list #pronouns #neopronouns #gothic lolita pronouns #title list #title suggestions #gothic lolita titles

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the-californicationist · 1 year ago

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Guile & Guilt (Ch. 10 --- Ending)

THURSDAY — 10:24PM: 18 hours until the wedding

As Johnny popped open the door to the distillery’s main hall, his grip on your hand tightened. It felt as if he was holding onto you in a strong current, working as hard as he could to keep you from slipping away. Yet, wave after wave of anxiety and fear crashed between you, trying its best to pull you apart. He was having none of it, and as you wilted, seeing everyone’s faces staring at you in the hall, he strengthened, all but carrying you along with him, ready to face whatever music was behind that black, wooden portal.

He walked in front of you, shielding you from whatever terror waited for you just around the corner of the short corridor. Then, as he rounded it, confronting the crowd, you heard a raucous, jeering applause. The guests at the rehearsal dinner were whooping and clapping, carrying on about the most important (and embarrassing) moment of your life, smiling and laughing at you and your protector.

But, you didn’t care about the crowd. You were scanning it for Pidge. Your eyes moved along the wall of faces, frantically searching for her. Then, pushing between Price and Gaz, there she was, coming towards you with Hamish not far behind.

The rest of the guests turned back to their business, still sharing laughs and comments to each other about your impromptu display of affection, but no one followed Pidge into the hallway to spy on you further.

When she saw your face, hers changed. It had been blank, emotionless, and cold. But, now, it was something as far from that as could be. You watched bright, fat tears fill the bottom lashes in her eyes, and her hand went to cover the grimace on her mouth.

Johnny shoved you behind him, blocking you from his sister’s supposed wrath, but you spoke around him,

“I’m so sorry, Pidge. I…” you sniffled as you looked up at her, fighting back your own sobs and trying to speak, “I tried so hard to stay away. Please, believe me.”

“Aye,” Johnny interrupted, straightening himself up pridefully, “She did, Pigeon. It was my fault.”

Pidge’s face twisted into an angry snarl, and she spun around as if to walk away, then she turned back to him. You thought she might slap him right across his mouth, and you weren’t positive, but you thought you could feel Johnny tensing up in front of you, bracing for it as he protected you.

Her face was displaying every emotion. It was pure chaos, and your heart ached to know that you had been the catalyst for it. But, as soon as she realized what she wanted to feel, she committed to reaching out for him, and she wrapped him in her arms, crying into his chest. He held her, letting her tears soak into his shirt.

“I kent so, you wee fuckin’ weapon,” she told him, her voice ragged and muffled by his body. You could barely understand her, “I spent all these years kennin’ she was the one who’d change your daft mind. I kent you’d love her, Johnny-boy, but I didnae want you to.”

His voice was strained as he asked her,

“Why, Pidge? Didnae you want me to be happy?”

“I wanted you to be yourself. The old you. The one who wanted to be home with us, with your family. You let me think you hated to be with me! You would leave and then, you’d go off with…” Her eyes darted to you as if to apologize for what she was about to say, “Whatever hen was the bloody closest. I didnae ken what to think.”

It took Johnny a moment to answer her. You were standing off to the side now, and he looked straight at you as he spoke, as if he was using you for fortification,

“I wasnae well, Brigette. It’s been right hard on me sometimes. I’d come back, and I’d get angry, just like da used to. I remember holding you at night when he’d get in that way, and you tried to hide your keenin’ but I heard you… and I didnae want that man back in your bloody house. So, I’d crash on couches ‘til I could come ‘round.”

Johnny sighed, listening to Pidge’s cries subside as she heard his words, and he went on,

“It was easier to spend a night here or a night there, enough time to be able to excuse away the bad dreams and the anger, but not enough to overstay my welcome. But, I missed out on a lot of time with you, and I ken I’ll never get it back. I dinnae want to miss any more of it.”

“Why the lassies, then? If all you needed was a safe space to be, you could’ve —”

Johnny smiled, shrugging,

“Any time of night, they’d always say yes. Even if I just crashed on the sofa. I may or may not’ve enjoyed the reputation a wee bit more than I should’ve done.”

Johnny’s soft grin turned on you, and he brought your hand up to his mouth to kiss your knuckles as if to apologize to you.

“And he didn’t sleep with Cherise,” you interjected.

Pidge looked at you and then back to her brother as if waiting for him to confirm. He shrugged, dragging a tired hand down his face. Johnny laughed,

“Just a wee bit o’ flirtin’, to be honest.”

She smacked him on his chest, hard. He winced and laughed some more.

“Why didnae you tell me?” Her question was directed at both of you, and you could tell she expected a truthful answer. So, you plucked up the courage and told her,

“I couldn’t lose you, Pidge. You’re the only real family I have, and I couldn’t bear it if you hated me for breaking your rules about dating your brother.”

You waited for her response, and it seemed like she was trying to find the words. She dug deep within herself to choose them, and every moment that went by, you prayed that they would at least be kind, that you would at least have a chance.

While she was locked in thought, Johnny’s hand gripped yours, sealing your palms together, and pulled you into him, clutching you to his side in the cramped quarters of the hallway. Both of you were staring at his sister, two prisoners awaiting judgment.

Hamish stood beside her, his arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him and let out a ragged breath, grabbing your free hand in hers,

“I didnae want you to end up like our ma. When she got sick…”

You squeezed her hand to help her hold back her tears,

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Pidge.”

“When she got sick, he wasnae there. He didnae watch her layin’ there in pain. While he was bleedin’ to death in bloody Sarajevo, she was on her second round of the chemo. And I never forgave him. Still havnae forgave him. And so, when Johnny-boy comes to me and tells me he’s joined the SAS? I just… in my mind, he just took da’s place. I know tha’s not fair. He’s his own man.

But, then I watched you takin’ care of me after all tha’ mess. You were there for me, babe. And I couldnae bear it if he let you down in the way that da did our mam,” she laughed then, wiping old tears away, “And I tried so hard to keep him away. I’d cancel plans with you when he was home. I knew you were his. You were everything that my old Johnny loved.

I thought he’d changed. I thought he’d lost himself to the desert. I thought he’d leave you, and then I’d lose you. And I couldnae lose you.”

“I’m so sorry, Pidge,” you told her.

She pulled you away from Johnny and wrapped you in a long hug,

“I’m sorry, too.”

“She is,” Johnny said, rubbing your back as Pidge hugged you.

She pulled away to look up at him, waiting for him to elaborate. He cupped your chin in his huge hands, warming your neck with his soft grip. He stared into your eyes, looking at you as if there was nothing else to see,

“She is everything that I love. She’s everything, Pidge.”

SATURDAY — 4:15AM: 1 hour after the wedding

You could barely get your keys into the lock, as weak as he was making you with his kisses on your neck. Johnny had groped you in the car, he’d kissed you until you’d moaned in the elevator, and he’d all but chased you down the hallway, laughing and grinning like a fiend.

“Johnny!” You gasped.

“Hurry, lass. I cannae wait much longer,” he nuzzled your jaw.

You giggled again, pushing the door open and tumbling through it. He shut and locked it behind him, tossing your bag and jacket on the futon. Marlowe made herself scarce, still not used to seeing him in your house.

He pushed you into the kitchen, kissing you up against the countertop, holding your face in his hands.

“Are you my woman, thief? Tell me.”

“I am, Johnny. All yours. I’ll show you.”

You knelt on your kitchen floor, the glitter of your dress crinkling on the concrete. You smiled up at him, enjoying the concerned look on his face, and lifted the hem of his great kilt, tossing it over your head. He tried to stop you at first,

"No, thief... you dinnae need to… oh, fuck.”

You found his cock with your lips, kissing his shaft. He was twitching, already hardening, swelling against your mouth, fully uncovered beneath his sporran. The large fur pouch tapped you against the back of your head as you kissed him, but you didn’t care. You set your tongue on him like you were starving, licking him from base to tip, using your hands to massage his length and his balls. Your efforts seemed to change his mind because, now, he was begging you in a deep voice,

“Don't... don't stop… please, mèirleach. God, your mouth…"

Johnny was coming apart above you in a literal sense. You felt the sporran fall away from your head and watched it fall to the ground next to his feet with a loud clunk. The soft wool of his great kilt swished against the small of your back, bare as it was in your gown. It tickled you on his behalf, petting you as you bobbed your head, trying desperately to swallow his challenging length.

He was tugging off his shirt now, and you watched the white cotton tail disappear up and out of his waistband as he yanked it from the belt. You lifted one of your hands and pushed it through the bottom of the pleated fabric, popping out of his belt, rubbing his abs from below as you sucked him.

Johnny grabbed your exploring fingers in his, gripping you tight, panting in heavy gasps above you,

“Fuckin’ hell, thief. I’m gonna come like this.”

Then, through the fabric of the tartan, you felt his hand on the back of your head, cradling you, shaking like a leaf. You took a deep breath and tried to fit him in your throat. He gagged you, too thick for your throat to handle him, but you fought through it, relaxing into him, trying your best to shock him, to make him crest over his waves of pleasure.

Johnny’s hand became heavy against your skull, and you knew you had him. You swallowed into his salty head, over and over, coaxing him to come, licking and sucking him like you were trying to get to his warm, melting core.

“Please, mèirleach! I’m gonna… I cannae… please, please, please…”

He was crying out above you, shamelessly thrusting himself into your throat, unable to keep himself under control. You were drooling from your lips, and you felt it coating your chin. You let it happen, unwilling to be embarrassed, protected by the darkness of his kilt. You held onto his hand above his belt, and you let your other rub beneath his balls, teasing that forbidden space in between.

As soon as you did, he let out a dark whine, ending it in a sharp shout, releasing his load into your mouth. You tasted him, felt his salty cream slide into your belly, sucking him clean as he finished.

The cool air of the room hit your wet mouth and neck as he pulled his kilt over you, staring down at you with a ferocious, hungry look, mixed with the warmth of his pleasure and a bit of curious disbelief. He moved his hand back to your head, holding you in place by your hair, gentle enough but sure. Then, he gathered his tartan up in his other hand and used it to wipe your mouth for you, praising you as he did.

“Mo mèirleach, so good for me. So fuckin’ good.”

You stared up at him, admiring his body. The cape of his great kilt had fallen from his shoulder, and his shirt was gone, leaving him bare. All of his muscles were straining with his ragged breathing, working hard to hold him together, dancing under his flushed skin. You rose, kissing his hairy belly, licking over his navel, finding a nipple to suckle against, nipping at it with your teeth as gently as you could, watching him writhe.

He was studying you now, as if he was seeing you for the first time, and he slipped one of his fingers beneath the strap of your dress, pulling it down your shoulder. It hung there, limply, and all that was left was its twin. He found that one next and tugged it down, watching as the dress cascaded away, revealing the nothing you’d worn underneath.

Johnny shuddered, gasping in a short breath, staring at your body in the low light. His eyes burned into yours, and he commanded you in a new tone, one you’d not heard before,

“Get to the bed, lass. Now.”

He watched you back up the few steps that it took to reach your mattress, swaying your hips as you did, running your hands over your breasts, teasing yourself and him at the same time.

Johnny was undressing as he followed you, lifting his shins to untie his ghillie brogues, ripping down the socks and letting his flashings fall out of them. Finally, he pulled out his sharp dagger, the sgian dubh, and let it fall to the counter with a loud bang. Lastly, he popped the boar-shaped buckle of his belt and the heavy kilt fell away, revealing his naked form to you.

He looked like he weighed as much as a bull. His body was immense, and his hands covered too much of you when he wrapped them around your waist. He could reach, pinky to thumb, across the span of your belly, and he warmed you with his palms, molding you to him like smooth clay.

Johnny lifted you, taking you by surprise, tossing you onto the bed so you landed on your back. You giggled, and then he shushed you, looming over you, kissing you, tasting himself there, sucking at your tongue and lips hungrily. His hands were kneading your breasts, plucking at your nipples and encouraging them to stiffen beneath his touch. Your giggles turned into soft whimpers, and you felt your pussy throbbing for him, soaking itself, eager for its missing piece.

Between his kisses, he was whispering to you, chanting his mantra, the same one he’d said before,

“You’re mine, mèirleach. You’re my woman. Say it.”

“I’m yours, mo chridhe…” You whined, feeling his thick fingers find your clit and discovering how wet you were.

“Mine, mine, mine,” Johnny growled, sucking the delicate skin along your neck and collarbone, kissing you over and over, leaving a trail of them leading down to a strong latch on your nipple. He was using one of his fingers to press into your wetness, and when he felt the fire within you, he sighed involuntarily, shaking a bit from the sensation.

“You’re soaked… Oh, fuck. You feel so warm.”

“Don’t stop, Johnny, please…” You cried to him, feeling your whole body tense, ready to come.

He sat back on his heels, keeping your legs wrapped around his hips, using both hands to play you like a fiddle. And he made you sing for him, twisting his hand and curling his fingertips, stroking you in long, deep movements, pressing down into your hole to give you the sense of girth you’d soon be feeling for real.

“Are you ready for my cock, mèirleach? Hard again for you already,” he pulled himself up and let his heavy rod rest on top of your clit, sliding himself back and forth through your wet folds.

“Please… Fuck me, baby, please…”

“Shh, shh, shh. I’ve got you, thief. I’ve got you. Give me those eyes. There… there you are. Oh, perfect girl. So damn perfect for me. This pussy was made for me; I’m sure of it. Do you ken how I’m sure?”

You didn’t say anything. You just stared at his body as he thrust his cock against your pussy lips, passing through them, making his cockhead glisten with your come. Then, he angled it down into you, and he let his head tease your hole, rubbing it in small circles, letting you feel every bit of his skin as it invaded your body.

“Here’s how I ken…” He smiled down at you and thrust himself into you as slowly as he could.

Inch after staggering inch was fed into your heat, stoking the furnace within your belly, warming him up from the inside out. He was holding his breath the entire way in, his face locked in a tight, furious agony. Then, when you felt his base stretch you further, he smiled, tossing his head back in bright, easy joy.

Johnny looked back down at where you were joined and placed his hand on your belly, feeling himself inside of you, petting your soft skin. His eyes darted up to yours, watching you suffer from the pleasure he’d made,

“Perfect fit, mo mèirleach. Every bit of you. Your lips, your cheeks, your breasts… the way you read your poems to me. The way you love me. You’re everything to me, lass. I love you.”

You felt like you were having an out of body experience. You couldn’t stop your walls from pushing and pulling against his heavy rod, as hard as iron and smooth like velvet. He’d filled you tight, like a cork in champagne, and you were very nearly ready to burst, not yet recovered from your previous orgasm.

“I love you, too, Johnny,” you begged him with your hips, grinding into him like you were riding him.

He played with your clit again, rubbing his thumb up and down its swollen length, feeling your lips as they stretched around him, making you cry out in all sorts of noises. Then, you watched as a burning mischief lit up his eyes, and that commander’s voice was back,

“Spread your legs for me. Wide, just like that. Spread ‘em apart, lass. Let me see you. I wanna see that pink hole as it takes me like that. So fuckin’ good. Didnae ken it could be so bonnie…”

Johnny started to thrust himself into you, good on his word, watching as he disappeared into your body. His head was rubbing against your most sensitive spot on the way out and tormenting your deepest parts on the way in. You were so full, you felt like you could burst. He tucked his hands into the crook of your knees and spread you just that much wider, making all of your nerves light up as he stretched your skin.

“Johnny! Fuck…” You were fluttering around him, clenching against his dick, trying to control your body and failing.

His voice was deep, and it resonated in the hollow of your chest,

“Come on, thief. Come for me. Come. Come… fuck. That feels so good, bonnie girl.”

The pale, fading moonlight morphed and changed as your orgasm flooded your mind. He was still talking at you, chanting sweet and savory nothings, praising you for nothing and everything,

“I can feel your heart, mèirleach. It’s beatin’ against me.”

“Johnny…” You gasped, coming down from your high only to feel him slamming himself into you like a relentless piston.

“Takin’ me so well, mo ghràdh. Perfect for me. Takin’ this cock like it was made for you.”

“Please, baby… I need you, mo chridhe. I need…” You weren’t sure what you need, but you prayed to him like a god, and you hoped he would know.

He fell over you, closing you into him, fitting you right to his chest, never breaking his incredible rhythm. He was kissing your mouth, letting the softest whimpers out of his throat as he did, whining for you.

“Is that it, thief? Is that what you need? Is that… fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…”

Each curse was a cry, and his voice was in pieces from it, broken and pleading. He was begging you, and every time he fucked his length into your belly, he would grunt like a beast, overcome with want.

You returned with your own mantra, finding his ear with your lips and whispering a thousand yeses into it, locking your heels around his thick waist, feeling his muscles working hard for you against your inner thighs.

“Tell me… tell me to come, mo ghràdh. Tell me when you…”

He was suffering inside of you, and you felt his whole body trembling with desire, ready to fill you at your command.

You ran your hands through his mohawk, holding it at the base of his skull, and you whispered, releasing him,

“Come in me, baby. Come in me. Come in… oh, my God! Come…”

You held him close to you as he spent himself deep within your belly, filling you for the second time, screaming for you. Johnny clutched at you like you were a lifeline, holding you tight to him, even as he slowed, teasing his head inside of you, slipping through his own come as it mixed with yours. As he finally slid out of you, he was kissing you again, his lips loose and swollen, his tongue tasting you gently.

“I love you,” you whispered between kisses.

He looked like you had just sunk your knife between his ribs, aiming right for his heart, and all the air left his lungs, no longer needed. Johnny died and was reborn in your arms within half-seconds, little moments that only you could see. His smile was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen as he answered you,

“I love you, thief.”

He left you for a moment to reach below the bed. Johnny came back up with his kilt in his hand, and he wrapped you in it, swirling his long tartan around your body, folding you in MacTavish dress blue. He pulled you into his lap as he leaned against your headboard, panting and trying to come back to reality.

You played with his tags around your neck, basking in the warmth of his woolen cloak, letting your head rest against his neck, and your mind started to imagine how your name might look with MacTavish behind it.

JULY

Johnny held your hand as the plane touched down, waking you up slowly. There was a soft ding and the captain’s voice came on overhead,

“Welcome to Iceland. If you want to adjust your watch, it is 1705. The weather in Keflavík is a bit overcast, and the temperature is 20 degrees Celsius. We wish you a pleasant stay, and we hope to see you again very soon. On behalf of all our crew, thank you for choosing British Airways as your airline today.”

Pidge leaned over you to talk to her brother, tightening her grip on Hamish’s hand as he sat to her right,

“I swear to Jesus and Mary, I thought I was gonna die! Did you book these tickets, Johnny-boy? I’m feelin’ faint.”

“It’s okay, darling,” Hamish soothed her, “We made it. It’s over.”

“Holy shite. I’m shakin’ like a wee leaf!” She gasped, fanning herself.

You made it out of the airport with only a little drama, and by the time you pulled into the hotel, you were starving. Johnny tipped the cabbie and guided you inside, wrapping his arm around you tightly.

“So, thief,” he suggested, “Did you wanna grab a bite in the hot spring? They’ve got the swim-up bar.”

“Eager to see me in that bathing suit you bought for me, hm?” You answered knowingly.

He blushed, grinning sinfully,

“Aye…”

“As long as I get to eat, I’ll wear whatever you want, mo chridhe.”

He whistled low and even, shaking his head,

“Dinnae make promises you cannae keep, woman.”

“Hey! MacTavish!”

A voice was shouting at you from across the lobby. Toting bags and already dressed in their summer gear, Price, Gaz, and Ghost headed over toward you.

“Hey! There you are,” Johnny greeted them, and there were warm hugs all around.

“Well, c’mon,” Price grabbed you by the arm, “Lemme see it.”

You smiled at him, holding up your left hand, letting him get a long look at the huge amethyst that sat as the flower on the end of a circular, golden thistle-shaped ring.

“Gorgeous,” Price smiled, shaking Johnny’s hand again, “We can’t wait for the wedding. If it’s anything like the last one, I know it’ll be a good time.”

You laughed with him, feeling Johnny’s soft lips in your hair as he leaned down to kiss you. He smiled at you, speaking to his captain,

“Aye, I cannae hardly wait.”

Thank you so much to everyone who read, liked, commented, and reblogged this story! I truly hope you enjoyed it. If you did, you might consider checking out my Price/Reader 100k story, "Gunslinger", available on AO3.

If you need more Soap, be on the lookout for Chapter 2 of PornStar!Johnny, which is threatening to turn itself into a full fic if I don't watch out.

Thanks so much to my betas and to all my mutuals for your support and ideas!! I love hearing from y'all, so message me anytime.

UPDATE: Epilogue (Ch. 11)

229 notes · View notes

selunesdreams · 1 month ago

Text

Chapter 11: Truth Hits Everybody

“I am a coward.” He said breathlessly, “But only because I don’t want you caught in my mess.” His bottom lip caught on hers for just a moment, and he released her with a tormented expression. “You deserve better, Rook.”

Pairing: Lucanis x Fem Rook/OFC x Spite???

Summary: Illario tries the "make her jealous" act, a missive from Viago delivers devastating news, Harding walks into the middle of a tense moment between Rook and Lucanis, and Ghilan'nain loses two dragons.

Word Count: 3.6k

Things of note/warnings: 18+ fic, MDNI! warnings: typical DA related violence, death, mention of murder.. Please read on AO3 if you need to track warnings, they will be inevitably detailed better there (or just want to be real sweet and give me hits/kudos/comments).

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

In the middle of the villa gardens, Fiamma slid a vial of fish oil over the iron bistro table towards the First Talon.

“Caterina, please just take it. Let’s be done with this.”

Her early weeks at the Dellamorte residence hadn’t been entirely awful. By some stroke of luck, she and Caterina got on well, and typically took their breakfast together amongst the rose bushes, weather permitting. Their only point of contention? Caterina’s health.

“Pretend I did, and I’ll tell your cousin how fabulous a job you’ve been doing around here.”

Fiamma swapped Caterina’s coffee for a glass of carrot juice. “You were going to do that, anyway.” She said, “Take it, or I’ll give you decaf.”

Caterina expressed her displeasure by ignoring her and poking at the half-eaten grapefruit on her plate. With an exasperated sigh, her breath visible in the crisp morning air, Fiamma examined the gardens. The flowers were bare and wilted from the autumn chill, and a few stray leaves drifted from the trees, sprinkled with dew from last night’s rain. Serene, save for the occasional rustle of foliage as birds skipped the surface, pecking and tugging freshly surfaced worms from the dirt.

Suddenly, Caterina threw her arms wide with a loud gasp, interrupting her thoughts.

“Lucanis! My boy!”

As he strode across the courtyard, she shivered and gathered her cloak closer. Fiamma never understood how a man so close to her in stature carried himself as if he were seven feet tall. Stooping to plant a kiss on Caterina’s cheek, he grimaced as his grandmother squeezed his face between her hands, showing off a warm smile she only reserved for him.

“How was your contract?” She asked, patting the empty seat beside her.

“Too long.” He eased himself into the chair and reached for the carafe of coffee, pouring himself a cup. Leaning back, he nodded at Fiamma in greeting.

“Enjoying your stay?”

“I would enjoy it more if your grandmother wasn’t so stubborn.” She said, returning her attention to Caterina and dropping her voice.

“Take. The. Fish oil.”

“Caterina, why do you give Fiammetta such a hard time?” Lucanis asked.

The First Talon scowled at her grandson’s admonishment and threw back the vial, her rings glinting in as sunlight peeked through the clouds. She chased it with juice and held out her hands expectantly.

“She abuses me, Lucanis.” Caterina grumbled, snatching her coffee from Fiamma’s grasp.

“De Riva, how can you treat a poor, defenseless old woman like this? After all she’s done for you?” His wink turned into a cringe as Caterina knocked her cane into his shin under the table.

“Call me old again and see what happens, boy.” She growled, standing up and shuffling past them.

“Oh, come on, don’t be dramatic!” Fiamma called after her. “You’re not going to finish your coffee after all that?”

“You two deserve one another’s company!”

Fiamma leaned in towards Lucanis. “You saw her spit that fish oil into the carrot juice, right?”

“Old Crow trick,” He said, drinking his coffee. “People usually reserve that method for poisons.”

“Caterina thinks all medicine is poison. She’s going to be the first Crow to die a natural death.”

Lucanis smirked. “She’s too stubborn to die.”

Fiamma’s chair scraped over the patio stones as she stood and gathered the remnants of breakfast from the table. “I should go make sure she’s not putting out a contract on me.”

“Allow me.” Lucanis offered, swallowing as he set his cup down. He stacked the empty plates, taking the rest of the dishes from her hands and adding them to the top.

“No need to pick up after the help, cousin!” Illario called in the distance, rounding a corner by the pond, arm in arm with his latest paramour: a wide-eyed wisp of a girl who clung to him, shivering, far too scarcely dressed for the cold. Illario’s influence, no doubt.

Lucanis frowned, and Fiamma elbowed him in the ribs before he could speak.

“Just let it go,” she said under her breath.

“De Riva’s here as punishment.” Illario explained to his date, pulling out a chair for her.

“You couldn’t even spare a blanket?” Fiamma asked cooly, turning on her heel and pushing past Lucanis. “Classy, Dellamorte.”

His lip curled, and he shrugged off his cloak, draping it around his companion’s shoulders. The girl opened her mouth in protest and he shushed her, muttering something in her ear. Fiamma ducked under Lucanis’ arm as he held the kitchen door open, casting a disappointed glance over his shoulder towards his cousin.

“He was sweet the first week.” She said as she set the dishes in the sink. “Then when he realized I wouldn’t jump in bed with him, he started parading around women to make me jealous.”

“Are you? Jealous?” Lucanis asked, nudging her aside and filling the sink.

“Of yet another victim of Illario’s facade?” Fiamma braced her palms against the marble countertop and hoisted herself up. “I pity her. He’s become such a selfish, cruel brat. I don’t even know who he is anymore.”

“I’ll talk to him.” Lucanis said, scrubbing at the plate in his hands harsher than necessary.

Fiamma hopped off the counter, reaching for a towel. “You’re such an old-fashioned romantic, Lucanis. How did you end up that way?”

“Probably the brief influence my parents had over me.” He said, passing her a clean plate to dry.

“Make sure whoever you end up with someday remembers to thank them for that.”

A huff of air escaped his nose as he watched her from the corner of his eye. “Death is my calling, Fiamma. I fear any fool who fell in love with me would only share that fate.”

“Don’t fall for a fool, then.” she quipped.

Lucanis’ smile faded as he watched her put away the dishes on a nearby shelf.

“My cousin is an idiot, Fiamma. Just ignore his antics. He’ll get bored, eventually.”

“Why are you cleaning?” Caterina’s cane clacked against the tile as she stormed into the kitchen so quickly Fiamma wasn’t even sure if she needed it. “If the maid doesn’t have enough work, she gets lazy!”

“We’re avoiding Illario. Have you seen his newest conquest?” Fiamma inclined her head towards the window. “She’s quite the catch.”

Caterina stood on her toes, peeking through the curtains, and scowled. “Too young for him, but sufficiently naïve.”

“A shame. I’d hoped he might have finally found the one.” Rook murmured, giving Lucanis a wink.

Caterina lowered herself, having seen enough, and tapped her long fingernails on top of her cane. “Take your cousin to Viago and find him a contract, Lucanis. He clearly has too much time to spare.”

He snorted and wiped his hands dry on his trousers, returning Fiamma’s wink. “I’ll be seeing you, De Riva.”

Caterina’s eyes narrowed, shifting between them as her grandson stepped onto the patio. She motioned towards the den with a contented grunt.

“Come, Fiammetta!” she said, “I need you to pen some correspondence for me. My carpal tunnel is acting up again.”

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

“Mail.”

An envelope hit Rook in the face, and she sat up with a start. Glaring at Taash, she snatched it letter from the floor. “Can someone with a more delicate touch handle that?”

“Got a specific abomination in mind?”

“Get out before I kick your ass.” Rook threw a candle and Taash ducked with a smirk, watching it crumble as it hit the wall behind them.

“I’d like to see you try.”

They flopped beside her on the chaise hard enough that it rocked back. Rook braced her arm on the seat to keep from toppling onto the floor.

“So I’ve got this thing with my mother later. Can you come with me?”

Rook gave them a bewildered look. “You’re asking favors? Now?”

“Uh. Yeah? That a problem?”

She sighed. “No, Taash, not a problem. I’ll be there when you need me.”

“Thanks.”

As they departed, Rook stared at the envelope in her hands bearing the De Riva seal. She hadn’t seen Viago in a week - the longest span of time since they’d reunited. It’d been a heavy week, too. She, Davrin, and Emmrich had descended into a nightmarish Grey Warden stronghold called the Cauldron, filled with blight and darkspawn. Hopeful to find where the gloom howler had taken the missing griffins, they discovered her plans to blight them instead - a twisted idea of freeing them. Davrin was rightfully distraught, but kept a cool head, turning his attention to researching obsessively in search of answers.

The tension between her and Lucanis hadn’t helped, either. He was sulking in the pantry more than usual, carrying a look of shame every time she glanced in his direction during dinner. Why should she feel guilty about him wandering around like a kicked dog? He was the one who wanted to play the role of tortured romantic.

Rook took a dagger from her belt and worked its tip underneath the wax seal, tearing the parchment free and skimming her cousin’s missive. She squinted, trying to make sense of it, before she rose from the chaise and left her chambers. In a daze, she descended the worn stone staircase and crossed the courtyard as she reread it, her attention never leaving the page until she pushed through the kitchen doors. They creaked loudly on their hinges in protest, breaking Lucanis’ focus from behind the stove.

“Rook?” He looked up in surprise, carefully removing a steaming pot of water from the heat and setting it aside. “Are you alright?”

With a trembling hand, she extended Viago’s letter towards him. “What do you know about this?”

Perplexed, he reached out and took it from her. His eyes darted back and forth on the page, his frown deepening the further he read.

Cousin, I hope this finds you well, and that you understand how deeply I regret our last encounter. I have feared for your safety my entire life, and never more than now, as you take on these gods. Know I will always come to your aid whenever it is in my power. Do not be afraid to call on me. I’ve passed on your parcel, but I have many questions. You should not feel obligated to take care of Manius Casini’s family. Hear my words when I tell you they have more than enough gold for a good life in his absence. The Crows made sure of it ever since we recovered his body from the canals. Your generosity is admirable, but do not spend another silver on the Casini family’s behalf. If you feel so inclined, perhaps that money could be put to better use on a place of your own in Treviso? That way, your vagabond strays can stop sleeping on my couch. -V

Lucanis scratched his cheek and passed the letter back to her. “I thought you knew, Rook.”

Her mouth felt dry. “Knew what?”

He tilted his head to the side. “Viago and I killed the Antaam responsible for your father’s death. The same night of the murder.”

“But Manius Casini murdered my father.” Rook protested.

Lucanis hesitated before continuing, clearly uncertain he should. With a sigh, he pulled out a chair, the wooden legs scraping against the stone floor, and gestured for her to sit.

“I don’t need to tell you that Dante De Riva was losing his mind, Rook. He was suspicious of everyone, even Viago. Casini was a double-agent in a Crow operation against the Antaam. The only reason your father wasn’t aware was because he’d stopped taking contracts and isolated himself so much. Casini came to warn him, but your father didn’t believe him, despite their long history of working together. He fled for help, but by the time he reached the Crows…”

The room suddenly felt suffocating and Rook’s knees, already trembling, gave way as she slumped in her seat. Lucanis’ lips parted in astonishment.

“You killed him.” He breathed as he drug out another chair, his eyes never leaving hers as he sat down. “That’s why you’re sending his family money.”

“I thought he-I didn’t-”

“I’m not judging you, Rook.” He reassured her. “You don’t have to justify it to me.”

“I thought it was him, Lucanis. Illario told me-”

“Illario?” He straightened in his chair. “What does he have to do with this?”

“He read the report-”

“Then my cousin must be illiterate. I wrote that report myself. I was very clear.” Lucanis leaned forward, his demeanor softening. “Tell me what happened, Rook.”

She swallowed hard. “Illario brought Manius to the Opera House. On my birthday. He had him tied to a chair like a gift. He gave me this…” She tore her shortsword from its hilt and flung it across the table. It knocked against the wooden surface, rolling to a stop at the center.

“You’re not at fault for this, Fiamma.” Lucanis said, taking the sword and examining its blade in the firelight before setting it on the mantle. “Illario is.”

“I think a part of me knew. I just thought if I had revenge, it would go away. This feeling-this empty horrible-”

“My cousin restrained an innocent man, handed you a weapon, and told you where to aim all that grief and pain.” Lucanis crouched in front of her, taking her hands in his. “You’re an assassin, Rook. Illario knew what he was doing.”

She watched as he traced circles over her knuckles with the pads of his fingertips. For the work he did, his hands were surprisingly soft, where they weren’t calloused from years of wielding his blades.

“Manius claimed my mother was addicted to lyrium.” she whispered. “Is that true?”

“She got clean, but died from complications during withdrawal.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Rook.”

“So my father was paranoid and a liar?” She sniffed, drawing her hand away and wiping her nose with her wrist. “And everyone knew but me?”

“Don’t let it change who he was to you. Grief blinded him, and he hunted down every Antaam running lyrium through Treviso. Unfortunately, it put a target on his back.”

Rook squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back tears. “Why did no one tell me?”

“Viago asked them not to, to preserve your parents’ memory. He was trying to protect you. But he should have told you himself by now.”

“I deserved to know then,” she said hoarsely.

Lucanis’ thumb brushed against her cheek comfortingly. “You did.”

“I can’t forgive Illario for this. Not ever, Lucanis.”

He tilted her chin up to meet his gaze. Firelight gently illuminated his brown eyes, shadows emphasizing the contours of his face. “I’m not asking you to.”

“He’s the coward. Not you. I should have never-”

“Rook…” A defeated sigh escaped through his nose, “I’ve been trying to figure out what to say to you about that day. There aren’t words enough to apologize-”

“No, I shouldn’t have called you that, you’re not-”

“I have been. With you.” He rose with her as she stood, one arm snaking around her lower back, pulling her against him. She blinked in surprise as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Rook rested her cheek against his palm, and a slight smile played on his lips.

“Fiammetta, I-”

The kitchen doors burst open, and they simultaneously recoiled. Clearing his throat, Lucanis turned towards the fireplace, watching the flames, and Rook planted her hands on the table as Harding entered.

“Rook! I’ve been looking for you…” she paused, glancing between them.

“What is it, Harding?” She asked, glaring at the patterns in the wood, trying to compose herself.

“Right…” Lace seemed keenly aware she was interrupting something, even if she didn’t know what that something was. “The Wardens sent word. One of Ghilan’nain’s blighted dragons is in Hossberg. Not far from Lavendel.”

Lucanis turned around. “The one that attacked Treviso?”

Harding nodded. “No sign of the one from Minrathous, as of now.”

“Get the others.” Rook pushed herself up. “We shouldn’t waste any time.”

Lucanis caught Rook by the arm as she moved to follow Harding.

“Now? Are you sure about this? You should take some time to process-”

“Not to sound religious, but I don’t get to decide when these things happen. The gods do.” She tried to pull her hand free, but his grip tightened around her bicep.

“Lucanis! Let me go-”

He pulled her in and smoothed his hands down the sides of her hair until he was cradling her face between his palms. His eyes searched hers desperately as his mouth hovered above her own.

“I am a coward.” He said breathlessly, “But only because I don’t want you caught in my mess.”

His bottom lip caught on hers for just a moment, and he released her with a tormented expression.

“You deserve better, Rook.”

Her fingertips brushed against her parted lips as she watched him leave. Shoulders slumped in self defeat, Lucanis pushed through the doors without a glance behind him. With a shaky breath, she composed herself, reluctantly retrieved her sword from the mantle, and followed.

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

“Damnit!” Neve shouted across the battlefield, “We need more hands!”

Rook’s knuckles turned white around her weapons as Ghilan’nain’s Icetalon extended its long neck and roared, spreading its wings wide as it took a menacing step in her direction. They’d put up a good fight until a second dragon, the very one that attacked Minrathous, arrived. With an endless supply of blighted blood at Ghilan’nain’s disposal to feed her thralls, Rook and the others were getting nowhere and only growing weaker. Even with Taash, a seasoned dragon hunter, on their side, they couldn’t seem to subdue them.

Lucanis and Assan soared overhead, striking at weak spots just as a streak of green blasted through the sky and lodged itself in the side of the dragon’s head. The Icetalon staggered back, falling to the ground. Rook turned around to search for the origin and cried out in relief.

“Viago!”

The ballista aimed for the Seartooth and fired another bolt, disorienting it. He leaned over the edge of the wall with a cocky grin.

“Thought you could use a hand!”

She smirked as the last dragon standing roared. Seizing the moment, Rook jumped over the dead Icetalon’s tail and dispersed a chain of lightning across the field. Stunned, the Seartooth barely caught Lucanis coming down upon its head, burying his blade in its skull. With a shriek, the beast shook him off and stumbled, collapsing in a heap.

Davrin cut in, sprinting and launching himself onto the dragon’s back, just as Assan dove through the air, swiping at its eyes. The Grey Warden drove his sword into its throat, gripping the hilt as he swung in the air, yanking hard to tear a line down the front.

Blood rained over the battlefield and Ghilan’nain’s thrall flapped its wings in a panic. With a feeble cry, it took to the sky only to plummet, shaking the ground beneath Rook’s feet with such force that it knocked her on her back.

The walls behind them erupted in cheers, and an ominous sense of déjà vu came over Rook as Ghilan’nain seethed above.

They were celebrating too soon.

“She’s reanimating the dragons!” Neve warned. “We have to stop her!”

Rook nodded, ducking under floating limbs and blighted tentacles to reach the closest ballista. She employed all her strength, digging her shoulder underneath it, lining it up with Ghilan’nain.

With a sharp inhale, she found her shot, just as her father had taught her during archery lessons. She fired on her exhale and took a step back, watching as the missile embedded itself in Ghilan’nain’s core. The dragons fell motionless, as the elven god howled in pain. The Wardens on the walls rallied, charging closer and Rook fell to her knees, exhausted. She grinned up at Neve as she caught her breath.

“For Minrathous?”

The detective smiled, offering a hand and yanking her upright. “For Minrathous.”

Their faces fell as the air stirred with magic, static crackling above them. Neve threw out a shield just as a nearby group of Wardens were propelled back, and time slowed. Rook raised her head against an invisible force as Elgar’nan appeared beside his sister. He surveyed the field, frowning as his attention fixed on Rook.

“One resists…”

“The Dread Wolf’s influence.” Ghilan’nain rasped, “His presence lingers.”

Elgar’nan scowled and waved his hand. “Ever defiant, for now.”

The air crackled again as they disappeared into nothing. Time progressed, marked by the sound of falling bodies - alive and dead - as they crashed to the ground with haunting thuds.

Neve released her shield and doubled over, chest heaving, and Rook scanned the field anxiously for her allies. Above, Viago, the other Crows, stood with Emmrich, Harding, and Bellara. To her left, Assan licked Davrin’s face as he sat up from where he’d fallen. Taash sheathed their weapons not far behind.

“Where’s Lucanis?” Rook asked in a panic.

“Here.”

She turned as he heaved himself from a deep puddle with a grunt, thick mud clinging to his boots and armor.

“We survived,” Neve said bitterly, staring at the sky. “Some of us, at least. Too bad the gods got away.”

“We have our revenge. And so does Minrathous.” Viago interjected, casually descending a wooden staircase and leaping over a pile of debris. With a sob of relief, Rook rushed forward and flung her arms around his neck. He stiffened, attempting to pry her off.

“You’re making me look soft in front of the Wardens.” He hissed.

“Just let her.” Lucanis clapped a hand on his shoulder as he limped past. “She needs you right now.”

With a resigned grunt, Viago encircled Rook with one arm, giving in to a reluctant half-embrace.

“You did good, Little Flame.” He said. “You did good.”

26 notes · View notes

bridgemino · 3 months ago

Text

MINOR CONTENT WARNING: This story contains some heavy topics!!

(This story is a bit of a duzie…so buckle up, buttercups!)

Hell in Hurricane

Hurricanes came and gone. The worst that had happened was a lost house or damage; nothing the rescue team couldn’t fix. They were scary, rainy and windy, but they had never needed to evacuate or relocate. It was an occasional phenomenon. One they had dealt with many times.

Jin wriggled along to the music that blasted through her headphones. She had found the song recently, and it had definitely placed in her favorites list. “Ba, da da dada daaaaaaAAH-“ she jumped up from her seat, her headphones flying off her head. The bass could be heard still from where they fell. “P-Poli! When did you show up?!”

Poli gave her a concerned look. “A few moments ago. Perhaps you should turn that down a bit, Jin.” He said, pointing his tire towards the headphones that were so loud, they vibrated across the floor. “Jeez! How high did you turn that up?!” His tone turned more playful than stern. But it quietly switched back.

“Ummm, moving on…do you need something, Poli?” She asked, turning the music off, and brushing the headphones to the side with her foot.

Poli shook his head. “No, I was just checking in. We could use some rain soon, though. Amber’s flowers are wilting..”

Jin nodded slowly. “Okay. Uh, hey Poli, can you get the rest of the team here? There’s something I’d like to discuss with you guys.”

“Oh, alright. I’ll make an announcement.”

…

“So you’re saying that this massive hurricane is coming, and you had no idea?” Helly hissed, looking both shocked and upset. “How are we supposed to prepare for a hurricane like this in less than two days?!”

Jin cringed. “I know, I know! I should’ve known that my broken weather machine meant no good…nghh..”

Roy moved forward. “Hey, instead of complaining, let’s work on getting the town ready for this storm. We only have a matter of hours til the storm hits, so we should get started now.”

Amber nodded. “Yes, but have we had a hurricane of this strength hit Broomstown? Do you think our town can handle it?” As pondered aloud, her eyes wide with worry.

“I don’t know.” Jin said, then slinking down into her chair. “It’s expected to be a strong category 5 hurricane by the time it reaches us.” She frowned.

“Perhaps we should evacuate some of the towns people to other towns with the other rescue teams?” Poli suggested. “We’ve never done it before, but perhaps it would be helpful. It would be easier to tend to the town without most of the people here. It will also be safer for them.”

Roy nodded, “That’ll work. We just have to see if Carry is willing to transport people back and fourth. It’ll take too long by boat, and the ocean is a bit rough right now. Cici also needs to be out of the harbor very soon to ensure she doesn’t get stuck out in that storm.”

“Right..”

Jin sighed, “Poli, you try to come up with a quick plan, and the rest of us will prep the town for a hurricane. Sound okay?”

“Mhm.” The room was silent for a few moments, but soon Roy turned. “Let’s go Helly, we can start by the harbor and make our way inland.”

“Okay, Roy!”

They soon disappeared, and Jin and Amber followed shortly after.

Now Poli sat alone in the empty HQ. He watched the hurricane radar on the screen in front of him. It was really big. Had they ever been hit by a Cat 5 before? It was a direct hit as well. Estimated 30 feet of storm surge..? It definitely wasn’t safe for everyone to stay, especially those near the harbor. Did they have any other choice besides evacuation?

Poli shook his head and sighed. It’s just the same as any other hurricane. He tried to convince himself. Treat it as so.

[26 hours until landfall - HARBOR]

The sound of the crane triplets loading luggage and other items onto Cici filled the harbor. The wind had begun to pick up, and clouds rolled in among the horizon. A large group of the townsfolk was kept towards the storage sheds. Most of the town was here, and anxious at that. They had little information on the situation other than there was a hurricane and they were being evacuated.

Spooky shivered in fear. “Cap, do you think the hurricane will be really bad? What if we come home and everything’s destroyed?!” He asked timidly, watching as Poli guided Carry to land.

Cap shrugged, “I don’t know Spooky. Nothing like this has happened before, so I really don’t know any more than you do.” He frowned as well.

Cleany moved a bit closer. “Have you seen the rescue team? They look really worried…”

“Yeah,” Spooky agreed. “Wait, is Posty coming? I haven’t seen him since the announcement.”

“Me neither,” Cap said. “Do you think he’s staying?”

“He would be out of his mind if he was.” A raspy voice sounded from behind them. They all jumped and whipped around. There was an old grey car behind them, black triangular glasses rested on his nose, “I’ve been through many hurricanes in my lifetime. All the ones I’ve seen here were little baby ones. This one ain’t no baby.”

Cleany gulped. “W-Well, no…I s-suppose not..”

“We’ll hopefully only be evacuated for a day depending on damages. Rgh…something about this storm is givin’ me bad vibes. If your friend a’ yours is stayin’ here, he’s gonna learn a big lesson ‘bout them hurricanes.” The car grumbled, driving off as Carry’s door opened for another round of people.

The three friends looked at each other, confused and worried.

“I hope Posty doesn’t stay then..” Cap muttered.

Spooky and Cleany both replied at the same time. “Me neither.”

[15 hours until landfall — MR.WHEELER’S TIRE SHOP]

Roy shuffled boxes over, letting out a sigh. “Mr. Wheeler, are you positive you want to stay? It won’t be very safe for you here. You can still catch Carry’s last flight out if you hurry.” There was the soft constant sound of wind blowing outside. Darker, meaner clouds were beginning to engulf the town. It wouldn’t be long now.

Mr.Wheeler shook his head. “Well, are you guys leaving?” He countered Roy’s question, raising a brow as he stood up.

“We have to stay.” Roy said simply. “Unless every Broomstown citizen we’re to leave, we must stay.”

“Then no.” Mr. Wheeler sniffed arrogantly. “I trust you guys enough to save me in worst case scenario. Plus, hurricanes usually significantly weaken once they make landfall.”

Roy didn’t say anything, but he pressed his lips together tightly. He knew there was no way to change his mind now, so he decided not to fight it.

“I want to finish my TV show as well, I’m pretty close to the end and I don’t know what will be available in…wherever that relocation place is.” Mr. Wheeler said.

“You know you’ll quickly lose power, right?”

Mr.Wheeler sighed. “I’ve been in a hurricane before. I also have a generator now, so I’ll be okay.”

Roy was at a loss for words, but what else was there to say? You’re an imbecile? That would just be plain rude… “Hey Mr. Wheeler, can I temporarily take down the sign outside of your shop? I just want to ensure as little debris flies around as possible.”

“Sure, do what you want with the place. Oh—say, who else is waiting out the hurricane?”

Roy shrugged. “There are quite a few other families and individuals who are riding it out. Most of the town left, however.” He pushed through the doors of Mr.Wheeler’s shop, and looked up towards the sign. He would have to take everything out front down, then tape and board up the windows. There was still so much work to be done, and so little time.

Roy climbed up to the sign, loosening the bolts.

Pitter…patter…

The rain slowly began. It was a soft sprinkle, but it was also the beginning of a long, long night.

Roy shivered at the thought. Hopefully Mr.Wheeler was right. The hurricane would make landfall, then dissipate. If only.

[10 hours until landfall — SIDE ROADS NEAR THE HARBOR]

Poli stood near the edge of the cliff that lead down to the water. He could already tell the water was very slowly rising, the waves crashed among each other constantly. The sea seemed to be at war with itself, as though fending off an imminent threat.

He watched as a large flock of birds battled against the slowly growing winds, their cries signaling abnormality. Poli was checking the emergency phones, yet he would be lucky if they still stood after this event. He stared down at the harbor. It was strange not seeing the crane triplets, Cici, or even Lifty down there. It was completely empty.

Moving the crane triplets had been a bit of a hassle, but they didn’t want to stay, and the rescue team had to fulfill that wish. It was almost like looking into a ghost town.

The birds soon faded into the distance, and the only sound that occupied the area was the raging waves of the ocean. There was a soft rumble among the horizon. The storm was getting closer.

Poli cought a hold on himself, driving on to the nearest emergency phone. He did a few quick inspections, came to the conclusion it was fine, and carried on. On his way back towards the heart of the town, he heard a voice.

“Poli! Wait!”

It was high pitched, and Poli knew exactly who it was. He sighed and turned around. “Hello, Posty. How are you so far?”

Posty soon caught up. “I’m well, thank you. I hope the preparations haven’t been too much of a hassle on you and you team?” He did seem a bit worried.

“It’s been fine. Just a little stressful, I’ll admit.”

“I can only imagine!” Posty exclaimed. “I hope everything turns out okay, these clouds are looking pretty mean..but anyways, I better be headed back. I need to do something important. Bye Poli!” He then raced off.

“Ah, goodbye Posty.”

Poli sighed again. Posty did have a point, the clouds were looking rather worrying. But he did suppose things wouldn’t stay bright and sunny forever. Even though sometimes he wished it did.

[5 hours until landfall — BROOMS FOREST]

Amber headed deeper into the forest, which was completely void of people now. She had to settle down some things and fix some other things, but otherwise it was just a quick skim of the forest. The wind effortlessly rattled the trees around her like toys. The previous sprinkles of before had now become fat, yet slow, droplets that plopped down from the sky.

Admittedly, she was nervous. Very nervous. Something in her gut screamed to get away from here as fast as she could, but there was no leaving now. Carry was not going to fly back in, and the storm was too close. It was a matter of hours now before it made landfall. It was creeping up on them like prey, and it was ready to kill.

The storm growled above her, eager and hungry. The winds tried to push her back, but she continued on. The storm was growing stronger as it approached Broomstown. It loomed over them like a dark shadow, cutting out the sun and glaring down upon them. It sent shivers down her spine.

Finally, she reached the emergency phone that she had needed to tend to. She stabilized it into the ground, then ran a quick inspection. Admittedly, she did not want to spend another second here. Leaves flew off of the trees, begging her to run with them. Run to some place safe. Somewhere that was not home.

This place reminded her of when she and the team had to rescue Helly during a hurricane. Not fun, considering she was basically in one right now.

Amber turned back, ready to head home. With every step her legs seemed to carry her faster, the wind assisting her until she was moving at full speed towards home.

[Landfall — HQ]

Jin stared as the rain lashed against the windows. The hurricane roared above them, shivering the building below them. The rain was already beginning to pile up within their parking area outside. Lightning flashed and thunder clapped loudly.

There was one thing that worried Jin. Her teammates. None had returned yet, and Jin was left alone within the confines of the rescue center. It was cold inside, unlike the humid outdoors. Jin shivered. She was unsure whether it was with fear, or if she was just cold.

Thunder roared, and the ground shook. Jin clutched her coffee.

Jeez, where are they? Jin wondered. They should have been back a while ago…

Jin wanted to go out and look, but the conditions were far too bad to go running out and about. She would just have to wait until she gets a sign.

[HELLY]

Rain pounded against Helly’s skin, leaving red marks with each hit. The wind hassled the rain around at such high speeds it hurt. And it hurt pretty bad. Helly swallowed as water began to pool at his feet. Town square was somewhat high up, yet still too close to sea level to be comfortable. He was far enough inland not to worry right? Or was the town closer to the water than he thought-? After all, he did live on a island…what if they water engulfed them entirely?

He shook the thought away, wading to grab hold of the Thunder statue. The water at his feet moved with speed. This water was not clear and sparing, it was muddy, dark, and mean. This water had no intentions on passing by lightly. To add to that, the rain came down quickly in large quantities, the water was quickly rising. Plus the harsh winds pushed him around, and he was obviously unable to fly.

WHOOSH.

Helly’s heart stopped. Something flew right past his head. Something metallic and hard.

KA-THUNG!

It collided with great force against a building behind him. He slowly turned around. It was a road sign. A road sign that had been pulled from the ground and launched at his head. A few inches over and…no. No, don’t think about that.

The clouds above erupted into a loud laughter, and the ground shook once more.

CRASH!

A tree branch snapped off a tree and slammed against a nearby building. The trees around him shivered in terror, as though they would be next to be torn apart by these winds.

I have to get out of here! Helly thought quickly, his eyes wide and his heart pounding. The water reached his ankles now. Helly waded through the water, clutching onto a tree after a few steps. “Ngh..” the wind prevented him from taking smooth steps. It pushed him back, trying to pull him down into the water.

There was a loud rumble in the distance. The loud sound thundered in his direction. Though this wasn’t thunder. It sounded more like…rushing water?

Then it clicked.

No. No, nononononono-! He thought frantically. The dam! The one that kept the town from completely flooding. It had broken! Helly didn’t have much time to think before he was swallowed up in the water. It hit him like a brick, slamming his body to the ground before the debris-filled water rolled over him.

He waved his arms around, trying to pull himself up to the surface. This had to be at least 5 feet of water that weighed him down. His head popped up above the water, and he gasped for air. The water moved quickly, sweeping him away. The storm cackled again above him, and he saw victorious lightning light up the sky.

The water pushed him under again, and he flailed helplessly. Then, his arm caught something. A tree branch! He clutched it hard, trying to pull against the current to get atop it. His legs began to feel tired, and he pushed harder. “Rgghh!! Helly c’mon!!” He cried to himself. “Agggh!” He hissed again.

Finally, Helly was upon the branch, and he lifted himself further into the tree. The wind growled at his success, and tried to force him back down into the rapidly rising water. Helly wrapped his arms around the trunk of the tree as the little branch snapped off. The bark dug into his arms, and oil began to spill.

“Help!” He cried, though he could barely hear himself over the thrashing rain and howling winds. His arms begun to hurt, the rain hit his back like bullets, the wind threatened to tear him off the tree and into the water, and the tree shook violently, barely managing to stay up.

“Help me! Somebody! Roy! Poli! Please! Anybody!” He sobbed he couldn’t tell whether he was crying or if it was just the rain slapping his face. Everything hurt now, his arms were tired, his legs were tired, his skin burned, his lungs burned. At this point, what didn’t?

“Poli! Please!” He cried, hiccuping between his cracked words. “Help me!” The water creeped up to his feet again, and he tried to push himself further up the tree.

Now he wasn’t even sure if any of his friends were even alive. None of them had ever called in their return, and if they were out here…Helly didn’t want to think about it, but it sat in his brain like a rock. He hadn’t eaten in hours yet he was disgusted by the thought.

Then, he saw something that made his heart want to stop. An arm. It was a human arm, there was no body attached to it, just a lonesome limb, wandering the world. Away from its home. Helly choked on his own saliva for a moment. He looked away, burying his face into the tree bark.

GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR……

The sound of the storm tearing apart what he once called home.

BANG, CRASH

The sound of debris of what was once his town being whipped around like toys.

CATHOOM

The sound of homes being washed away from their premises, and collapsing into the abuses below,

CRACK, SNAP!

The sound of the tree he clutched to breaking and bending, ready to come apart.

Helly didn’t know what to do anymore. He had no idea how he had come to this point, but he was terrified. His eyes were sealed shut as he used his remaining strength to hold on.

CRACK!

The tree leaned, and began to fall. Helly shot open his eyes to the piercing rain. Havoc. Pure havoc. He kicked away with his feet as the tree tumbled into the water with a groan, then disappeared in the abyss of death below. Now Helly clutched to the sharp, prickly remains of the stump, which was already beginning to be covered itself in water.

“….s-save me…” Helly whimpered. His strength was almost gone, and his arms wanted to give away. He wanted to sink into the death pit below it accept his fate. His teammates, his friends, his family…they were most likely there themselves. Helly didn’t what to die alone; not like this.

He wanted to be in the arms of his family. The ones who had brought him up and saved him. He was ready to give up.

Just as his strength was about to give into the harsh winds, to the beating rain, to the tornadoes that danced around him…it stopped.

Everything. The wind, the rain….everything. Helly shivered and looked up slowly. “Wh-wha..?” He was shocked he was still alive.

Was that the sun?

Was that the beautiful blue sky he missed so dearly?

The sun stared sadly down upon Helly. It seemed as though it wanted to cool everything down, remove the wind that sheered the land. But it could not.

Helly stared up at it, his tears reflected it’s beautiful rays.

He was in the eye of the hurricane.

All of the chaos, all of the pain, everything, had slowed to a stop. Now he had 20 minutes to decide what the heck to do. What to think.

Helly looked around. Mr.Wheeler’s shop was completely washed away now, trees had been pulled from their roots and their stems, stoplights, gates, fences all pulled up from the ground and tossed away.

Helly saw something. Something that for some reason…gave him hope. Oil. It remained separate from the water, refusing to give in to the storm. It was broken, and it strayed far from its home, but it remained strong and separated. It would not let itself be washed over by the water. Till it’s last drop it will fight.

Though oil usually meant someone was hurt or…in this case dead. Something told him differently.

He needed to be that oil. To not give up until it’s very last breath.

But how? He thought as he looked around. Everything was gone. The buildings. The vegetation. The life. It was all sucked away in a blink of an eye. Everything that took him and his family generations to build up, destroyed within a matter of moments.

He didn’t know how he felt anymore. He didn’t know if he was happy or sad, cold or hot, wet or dry, alive or dead….he was just numb. Completely.

Numb.

He sat, staring off into the nothingness silently. He knew he had little time before the second half hit but..he was still struggling to process that he was still even alive. For all he knew, he could be watching in a third person perspective, dead.

Finally, his senses came back.

Helly scrambled to his feet, stabilizing himself atop the uneven tree stump. His heart pounded, but he knew he needed to find a better spot. Then, a large fallen tree began to float by in the deep waters. Helly knew what to do. He jumped onto the tree’s back, taking a few moments to ensure he didn’t fall, then gazed around.

He floated past a few thick trees, and he decided to climb one for the second half. It was his only choice. He latched onto a tree’s remaining branch, and rested himself in between it and the trunk. He turned his gaze back to the waters, and he gave a frightened shiver.

Body parts. Limbs. Homes. Personal items. They all floated around in the water that was beginning to temporarily slow, yet didn’t lower. He wondered how many people whom had stayed even survived. He was numb to everything around him. He just wanted things to be normal again.

Then, a tear. Another. A choke. A cry.

Helly sobbed.

He sobbed for the lives that had been lost, sobbed for the homes that had been destroyed, sobbed for the sun that was already beginning to hide again.

Pat..pitter…

Round 2 was beginning.

…

It was a long night. The sun set as the second half of the storm went through. But just as quickly as the storm had come in, it left. Helly remained clutched to the tree all night long. By morning most of the storm water had gone down a few feet, but Broomstown was still a disaster.

Helly slowly climbed down from the tree, looking around. To feel solid ground against his feet was a blessing. He collapsed onto the ground, finally feeling the freedom of relaxing. Just to be able to lay on the ground, even in the murky water, it was still so much for comfortable than being stuck up in a tree.

At was so, so nice.

But wait. Helly thought, what about the others? Helly jumped up to his weak feet. He picked a direction and ran. Though he could barely stand, he could not lay around any longer. He pushed through all the rubble. “Roy? Poli! Anybody?!” He called, feeling a stab of desperation.

Then, a weak voice.

“..o-over here..! H-Help…!”

It wasn’t Roy’s or Poli’s or Amber’s or Jin’s, but it was one he recognized. “Mr.Wheeler! Where are you?!” He called desperately.

“Down…here..!” He called, and a small hand appeared from the rubble. “I..can’t get u-up!”

Helly ran over quickly. “Don’t worry, let me help you!” He picked up a few pieces of wood, throwing them to the side. Mr. Wheeler then pulled himself out. There was a large gash across his stomach, and many cuts up his arm, but otherwise somewhat okay.

“Rgnh, that hurricane packed quite the punch, didn’t it-?” Mr.Wheeler said, an attempt of a joke shown through, but Helly could tell he was devastated. “My shop…”

Helly sighed sadly and nodded. “I thought I was dead for sure…are you okay for now? I need to go look for other survivors and I can’t tend to you wounds right now. I’m so sorry…I was just stuck over there…” Helly pointing to the tree that was barely hanging on now.

“Oh,” Mr. Wheeler said simply. “I did too. But I’ll be okay for a little bit. I’ll see if I can patch this..” he then turned and sat down on a pile of wooden boards.

Helly didn’t reply, yet he stared for a few moments. Though he felt hopeful, he also felt lost. He could only pray that his family was still alive…he shook his head. No. He refused to believe that.

“Hello?!” He called as he limbed quickly down the street. “Is anyone out here?!”

No response.

[POLI]

He rubbed his head, groaning in pain. He was atop a random house’s roof, and felt defeated. He was beginning to dry off now, since the hurricane had left a few hours ago now. His lungs burned from the water he had swallowed. He had spent many long minutes coughing it back up when he awoke. Though his world still spun, but he tried to stand. He was in the middle of a neighborhood. By himself, as far as he knew.

House was one of the only ones in the area that hadn’t collapsed, and he was thankful for that. He didn’t know he had gotten there, but he was just glad to be alive.

Poli slide down off the rooftop, plopping harshly onto the mushy ground below. Now that he was really looking around, he saw a small family huddled together at the end of their driveway. Their dog ran around them in circles, and the dad offered some small pieces of food to his two kids.

He knew the family well, they were all together and they looked mostly alright. Poli decided not to confront them, he wanted to look for others who needed immediate assistance. He walked through the street, his feet never straying from the yellow line. Road laws had to value to him at the moment.

He would have to build all of this up again. And for what? To be destroyed again when another storm rolled through? His mind spun. He didn’t know what to do. Would they rebuild or leave the town to slowly drown? Thinking about it made his head hurt. He would think about it later.

A voice sounded softly in the distance.

“Hello?! Anyone out here?!”

Sounded a bit like Helly….wait, Helly!

“Helly?!” He forced out in reply, moving faster towards the sound. His voice was raspy from not having spoken.

“Poli?!”

Poli saw him.

“Helly!” His voice cracked with relief and excitement.

They ran into each other hard, holding on tight. Helly sniffed, and Poli could tell he was crying. He tightened his grip on the smaller male, leaning down a bit a match Helly’s height. Before he knew it, he was on the verge of tears himself. He was just so thankful to have at least one of his teammates alive and breathing. Right in his grip, where he didn’t want to let him go.

After a long few moments, Poli slowly stood up. He looked down at Helly’s teary eyes, and gave him a small smile. Something he hadn’t done in so long. It felt nice.

Helly sniffed and rubbed his face. “P-Poli, do you want to try to find the others?” He asked softly, taking Poli’s hand and not letting go.

Poli nodded. He felt like he couldn’t speak, perhaps it was from the lump that hung in his throat. He squeezed Helly’s hand and moved forward along the path.

They walked for a while, Helly occasionally calling out to people. Though Poli did want to look for the others, they needed to get back to the Rescue Center. Hopefully the others would be there.

[AMBER]

She held her arms up, eyes wide with worry.

“Posty, jump down. I’ll catch you, I promise.”

Posty shook his oily head. “No! I’m going to get hurt even more than I already am!” He was pretty scratched up.

Amber nodded. “I know, but I can’t treat you when your still in that tree! You won’t feel any better bleeding out in a tree like that!” She said, trying to get him down.

They had climbed those trees to escape the rising river waters. They were in the forest, near where the bridge used to cross the small river. Due to the hurricane, the river had risen to a concerning extent. Yet the debris that flew around posed more of a danger to them.

Amber hadn’t seen any of the damage that had happened in town, but she was worried about it. She lifted up her barely working transmitter, and called back to Jin. None of the others had responded when he tried to reach them.

“C’mon Posty,” she tried to lull him down again.

Posty grimaced. “Fine…” he slowly shuffled from the trees. “AHH!”

Amber rushed forwards, barely catching him. She sighed exhaustedly. “…see? That wasn’t so bad.”

Posty was laid onto the ground when Jin’s voice came through her transmitter.

“Amber! Do you think you’ll be able to make it back to the rescue center?” Jin asked.

Amber looked around. The water had significantly lowered since last night, so she should be able to wade through the river without an issue. She lifted her transmitter up, “Yes, I think I should be able to. I’ll try to be back as soon as possible. I need to help Posty cross the river, since the bridge broke.”

“Okay! I’m glad I’m at least hearing from one of you guys…I’m really worried.”

They both sat in silence for a few moments, before Jin hung up. Amber turned to Posty. “Okay, so I’m going to have to carry you across…are you comfortable with that? If not I could always carry supplies from one side to another. At least until we can get something safer for you to cross on.”

Posty shook his head. “No, no, you can take me I guess. I don’t want to make things harder on you guys.”

Amber didn’t argue, it would be easier if he could just run back home. She nodded. “Okay. Come on, I don’t have much time.” Might as well get things over with quickly so she can check on the rest of the town.

Posty and Amber headed for the river, Amber pushing past tree limbs and other random pieces of debris like road signs. Soon, they reached it, which was mostly calm, but still moved quickly.

“Alright, you sure you want to do this, Posty?” Amber asked, ensuring he wanted to do this.

Posty nodded. “Yes! All my packages are going to be ruined! I need to see their condition!” He hissed, jumping up and down worriedly.

Amber sighed, bending down to pick him up. She pulled him up into her arms, just barely being able to see past him. She slowly made her way through the water, feeling it tug on her legs. They reached the other side, and Amber rested Posty on the bank side.

“There, now you go head off to your—AH!” Amber felt her foot slip. She fell and landed hard in the water. She felt her screen scratch the rocks in the bottom, and the water tugging her along. She pushed up with her arms, getting up onto her knees. She took a surprised few breaths, and shook the cold water off of her.

“Oh my gosh! Amber! Are you okay?!” Posty asked, looking shocked himself.

Amber stood up, spitting out some water that got trapped in her mouth. “Ugh, yeah. I’m fine…”

***

“Oh thank god you guys are okay!” Jin cried. Running up to them. “Where were you guys?!”

Helly frowned. “We got stuck in the hurricane…sorry Jin. I should’ve known better…”

“We all should’ve known better, Helly,” Amber said, giving him a sympathetic look. “It wasn’t just you who got caught in the storm you know..” She gave him a small pat on the shoulder.

Jin sighed. “It’s great to have you all back but—wait, no, where’s Roy?” Her voice shifted to a concerned one.

They all looked around.

“Has anyone seen him?” Jin asked.

They all shook their heads.

Amber thought for a moment. “I did see him before the storm hit, but otherwise no…”

Helly looked at Amber then back at Jin. “Should we go look for him? What if he’s in trouble?”

“No,” said Amber. “we need to make sure all of us are fit to travel, Helly, you’re all banged up. Before we go look for him, we will treat our wounds.” She established. She did know best for this situation.

Jin nodded in agreement. “That sounds good, Amber.”

It took a few days before Poli got out of the rescue center to look for Roy. We was getting worried now, especially with no signs of him. Surprisingly, there were a few emergency phones that still worked, and they were getting many calls from residents who stayed. They begged for help and cried about their homes…it was horrible.

But Poli wanted to find Roy first. He needed to. He couldn’t stand still a second longer not doing so. It stuck to him like a needle in his kneecap…however that works. Of course he felt like shit, but it was a weight on his shoulders that seemed to strangle him.

He groaned. It was all so much. So much for one leader. One guy who had to chose whether they should give up or rebuild, what to do and how, when to do it and where, try to somehow fix his town from…that.

That monster.

The monster that slowly shrunk among the horizon, yet it’s teeth still sunk through the grounds of Broomstown. Through the heart. Through his and everyone else’s hearts. Homes. Lives. Everything.

He shook his head, trying so desperately to clear it. He wanted everything to just be okay again. To fix themselves. To go back to when everyone was happy and healthy and safe and…and…

THWAP !

Something struck Poli hard in the head. Then black.

Birds chirped and plucked at the flowers that tried ti heal within the soil’s bounds. Their wilted, destroyed petals slumped sadly against his cold skin. Yet, even in their wilted state, they protected him. The ones that had managed to heal enough stood triumphantly over his body. Like an I survived statement to the world.

Because they survived. Unlike others, they continued to try to bloom even in the thick of it, when their petals were torn away from their stems.

They brushed his face, a call to wake up. A call to come back to reality. There was much to do for this young, unconscious man in the grass; huddled by beautiful, yet hurt, flowers.

His eyes slowly opened, the sun brightened with excitement to his sigh of waking up. Waking up.

From this nightmare?

No.

He sat up slowly, feeling trickles of water that hid in small dark spots of his body scatter away. Everything remained fuzzy as he looked left-to-right. A small bee flew from a flower petal to his knee. It buzzed happily as it saw him. Hello! It seemed to say. Wake up! Wake up! There is work to be done! Buzz along, boy!

He looked closer at the busy bee. Very busy indeed. There were many flowers to be pollinated. The bee buzzed it’s wings on his knee. That town won’t pollinate itself, boy! Go save your hive! Then, it flew off. He was glad to know he wouldn’t be the only one busy tonight.

Now, he stared at his hands. His feet, up to his knees, his waist, his arms, then his wrists. His once bright red paint was now stained and scratched and cut up. He felt like the little bee that had buzzed off. Did he have to pollinate the town, make it beautiful so it can flourish and spread once again? Like the bee with its flowers?

Yes.

He look his grey cut hand and lifted it to his face. Then…

WHAP!

His cheek stung, but he was ready now.

He jumped to his feet, ignoring how his legs screamed in pain as he did so. “C’mon, Roy,” he said to himself. “Sitting around won’t help people.”

Before he knew it, Roy was plunging down the small hillside. His legs and feet brought him speed, his arms brought him strength, but what he needed was his town. His town gave him bravery. Endurance. It made him and shaped him into who he truly was. He would not let it go to waste now.

No matter how many hurricanes plunged through and threatened to tear them apart, they would always be together. Whether in Broomstown or somewhere far, far away.

When he came back to reality, he stood in the middle of town square. It was only now that he noticed the thick, long trail of black oil spilling down the front of his face. He probably had a concussion. He wiped it away.

The town was in ruins. It looked like it had been abandoned for years. Many years; one storm. Gone. Everything.

Roy refused to let this deter him. He pushed his gaze towards the gate that lead to the rescue headquarters. His home. Almost by instinct, he pushed past the red and white bars, his feet carrying him further and further. He last many broken families, but for once his mind wasn’t in them. His mind was on home.

home…

He missed his team—his family so much. He had not idea when things had been so suddenly torn away, yt it left a whole in his heart he wanted to fill. Just seeing one of their faces would…wait.

There it was. There he was. On the side of the road, clearly unconscious, laid his friend. Best friend, to be exact. A fat tree branch laid beside him. He must had somehow been hit.

Roy rushed to Poli’s side, almost tripping over his own feet.

“Poli? Poli!” He cried, shaking Poli’s shoulders weakly.

Poli shifted with a short groan of pain. His beautiful blue eyes met Roy’s thick, teary, brown ones.

“R-Roy?” Poli’s eyes widened, and the suns rays made them sparkle like new. Every aspect of them was illuminated. It was almost like looking into a glacier. The prettiest, bluest, bestest glacier he’d ever known.

“Poli…”

Roy ducked down and engulfed Poli in his arms. Oil from his bleeding head stained Poli’s forehead, but he didn’t care. He hugged a little tighter.

“W-We thought you were dead, Roy!” Poli exclaimed, tears escaping his relieved gaze. “You we’re gone for d-days and we had no idea w-where you w-were…”

Roy’s eyes widened again in shock. Days? Had he really been knocked out that badly?

“I-I…I got some kind of bad head injury…I didn’t think I was out for that long…I’m so sorry for worrying you guys…I don’t know..”

Poli slowly got up from the roadside. “…well I guess we’re matching in head injuries, that’s for sure.” He joked, though his voice was still thick from his tears and worry.

Roy nodded. “Let’s head back to the rescue center. Then we can discuss what we’re going to do with the town. Remember Poli, we, your team, will be there every step of the way. The weight isn’t just on you, you’re not alone. If you ever need help, or need a break, we have you covered. Just please…don’t overwork yourself. I know how it is coming from me but…”

Poli’s gaze went to his feet, then back up at Roy. “T-Thank you. I’m so lucky to have you guys.”

Roy took Poli’s hand with a soft smile. “Come on. We have things to do.”

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

That’s it 😭

I’m sorry to end it a bit abruptly but this is getting so long already….

W to you i you read all of this.

I’ll check for grammar mistakes later, so I’m sorry if I left any weird/random cliffhangers or just stupid grammar mistakes lol

Good night :3

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