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coraline au | not my au | radioapple
creds to @deadspaceguy for coming up with this! <3
The other papa leaped on the piano seat as he readied his hands, raising them up above the keys. Finally, he slammed them down, the notes ringing out around the house.
  âMaking up a song about CharlieâŚsheâs a peach, sheâs a doll, sheâs a pal of miiineâŚâ Lucifer grinned, his grin almost resembling the other fatherâs.
  âSheâs as cute as a button, in the eyes of everyone who ever laid their eyes on Char-a-lieeeâŚâ
Charlieâs mouth hung in awe, her eyes shining with amazement. She hadnât seen Lucifer this joyful since his and Alastorâs wedding, which was many years ago. After their honeymoon Lucifer had always been busy with work. Not to mention, her papa couldnât even play piano.
  All of the sudden two gloved hands sprung up from the piano, the violin matching the pianoâs rhythm.
  âWhen she comes around exploring, me and dad will never make it boring, our eyes will be on Char-a-lie-â
  âI, uhâŚsorry, but Al told me to tell you that the food is readyâŚerm.â
Lucifer spun around, the smile from earlier still plastered across his face.
  âMmmâŚwhoâs starving, raise your hand?â Lucifer lightly grabbed Charlieâs wrist, raising it into the air. Charlie giggled, a smile forming on her own lips.
  âWell we should give our thanks to your lovely father, who cooked us this delicious deer. You really didnât have to go hunting today, Al.â
  âI know how much our little Charlotte loves roasted deer, mon angeâŚâ Alastor directed his gaze to Charlie, who rolled her eyes at the nickname. Lucifer giggled, leaning across the table to kiss Alastorâs cheek. âOh, hush up nowâŚyou know Char-Char hates that.â Alastor blushed and gripped his fork, ringing the bell across from him. Charlieâs smirk widened as she immediately grabbed a part of the venison, taking a healthy bite from the thickest part.
  âMmm! This is really good!â
  Alastor laughed. âHungry, are we?â
  âYeah,â Charlie replied, scooping mashed potatoes onto her plate. âBut do we have any gravy?â
Lucifer gave her a loving smile, tapping his fingers on the table while staring intently at her.
  âWell Iâm glad you asked! Here comes the gravy trainâŚchoo choo!â
At that moment a train made its way around the table, stopping in front of Charlie to pour a generous amount of gravy onto her plate.
  âAnother roll? Sweet peas? Corn on the cob?â Alastor questioned, growing closer to Charlie with each listing.
  âIâm, like, really thirsty,â Charlie responded, leaning back in her chair haphazardly.
  âOf course, dear!â Alastor shot back. âAny requests?â
Charlie thought for a moment. âStrawberry milkshake?â Vaggie had told her strawberry milkshakes were her favorite, causing her to blush a little. The chandelier above her lowered, the spout pouring out a lovely blush-pink mixture. Charlie gulped it down, savoring the sweet taste. It smelled just like Vaggie too, Charlie thought.
  Suddenly her papa set out a delicious-looking pink frosted cake in front of her, the hot pink words spelling out âWelcome home!â.
  Charlieâs smile disappeared as fast as it came.
  âH-home?â
Alastor got up behind Luciferâs chair, rubbing his shoulders rhythmically.
  âWeâve been waiting for you, Char.â Lucifer smiled warmly, his big black buttons becoming very apparent to Charlie.
  âForâŚme?â
  âYes! Isnât quite the same here without youâŚCharlie.â
Charlie wrapped her arms around herself, feeling a little uneasy. âI didnât know I had an other father.â
  âOf course you do, darling! Everyone does,â Alastor butt in, his eyes too, gleaming.
  âReally?â
  âUh-huh! Now once youâre done eating, I thought we could play a game! You know how much papa loves games,â Lucifer spoke. He tapped his fingers faster on the table.
this is just part one !! stay tuned :)
#radioapple#appleradio#duckiedeer#lucifer morningstar#lucifer magne#alastor#alastor the radio demon#alastor x lucifer#lucifer x alastor#hazbin hotel#fanfiction#fanfic#hazbin#coraline au#deadspaceguy#not my au
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seven for jontim? <3
jontim + things you said while we were driving
.
The tension in the car on the way to Great Yarmouth is so thick Jon could cut it with a knife. Heâs not really sure how he ended up carpooling with Timâsomething about old habits and the Archers and âtime to thinkâ that has Basira and Daisy sharing a carâbut theyâre an hour in and Jon can count the number of words Timâs said to him on one hand.
 Jon wants to break the silence. He doesnât know if theyâll get another chance to talk, if heâll get another chance to say everything he wants to say. To apologize, to try to make amends, to tell Tim that he stillâ
 Jon sucks in a breath and looks out the window, at the sprawling countryside as it whisks by. Once upon a time, his hand would be clasped with Timâs on the center console and Tim would be telling him some elaborate story about his latest camping trip or the case heâd been working on that had taken a dramatic turn or the latest office gossip and his own rather strong opinions about it. Thatâs one of the things heâd liked about Timâthe fact that Tim could talk, and Jon could listen, and when Jon got excited about something and interrupted Timâs story, Tim would take it in stride and listen with a smile.
 God, it had been so easy, and now itâs not, and that more than anything makes Jon ache like his heart has been torn free from his rib cage.
Jon doesnât realize heâs been tapping his fingers in a nervous rhythm on the center console until Tim lets out a labored sigh and breaks the silence as gracelessly as a bullet through a glass house. âJust say it.â
 Itâs too loud after so long with only the noise of the road and the low murmur of the radio, and Jon startles, his hand retreating back to his lap reflexively. âWhat?â
 Timâs eyes remain on the road, but Jon can see the tension in him, in the way his hands grip the wheel firmly and his mouth flattens into a thin line. âJust say whatever it is you need to say. Might as well. Itâs not like I have anything better to do.â
 Jon winces slightly at the flatness in Timâs voice, at the way he sounds just- just indifferent. It cuts worse than any anger or frustration. At least those meant that Tim was still feeling something toward him, no matter how negative. Now, Tim just sounds tired. Resigned.
 âI wasâŚâ Jon swallows and looks down at his hands so he doesnât have to see Timâs face. âI was thinking about the time we went to the coast together, to follow up on that case about the mermaid.â
 Tim makes a sound that might be a laugh if it werenât so humorless. âYeah, I remember,â he says, and maybe Jonâs imagining the hint of wistfulness in his voice, looking for something that isnât there. âTurned out to be nonsense, but itâŚâ
 Timâs hands tighten on the wheel for a moment before going slack, his face twisting into something pained. âIt was nice,â he says, so quietly Jon almost doesnât catch it. âYou, er. You had a lot to say about harbor seals.â
 Jon flushes and rubs one thumb over the otherâa nervous tic of his, one that leads to dry and cracked skin if he isnât careful. âYes, well. Growing up by the sea tends to foster an interest in marine wildlife. And, er. Well. Nobody else ever seemed interested, in- in the topic.â A pause. Jon worries his bottom lip between his teeth and says, âI miss our conversations.â
 âJon,â Tim says. Itâs a warning and a plea and a refusal all wrapped into a single word. And Jon should just leave it at thatâlet them pass the rest of the time in silence, like theyâve been doing for months.
 Instead, he says, âIâm sorry, Tim. For- for everything.â
 âPlease, just- not now,â Tim says, his voice growing sharp around the edges even as the core retains that same weariness Jonâs grown accustomed to.
 He hates it. He hates that Tim doesnât tell jokes anymore, that Tim doesnât smile wide and easy and greet Jon with a ghosting hand across Jonâs upper back, that Timâs shoulders sag ever so slightly as he walks like heâs bearing the weight of the world. He hates that itâs his fault.
 âThen when?â Jon says, that same sharpness bleeding into the words against his will. âAfter this is all over? We might notââ
 We might not make it out alive, his mind supplies. But the words stick in his throat. Instead, he says, âJust. You donât have to say anything, just- just listen. I- I donât expect forgiveness.â Jon pauses, then says, softer, âItâs not my right to ask for it.â
 Timâs quiet for a long moment. The radio is playing something upbeat, a pop song that Jonâs never heard but that sounds exactly like the rest of the music the station has been supplying. Jon wants to turn it off; it grates on his nerves, makes every second feel like an eternity.
 He doesnât. Somehow, he thinks silenceâtrue silence���might be worse.
 âOkay,â Tim says finally, his eyes still fixed on the road. âJust- just please donât say youâre sorry. I donât want to hear it anymore.â
 âRight,â Jon says. His fingers go to the hem of his shirt, fiddling with the fabric. Thereâs a loose thread there, and without thinking, he pulls it. It spirals out, making a neat line in the fabric where the weave falls out of line that Jon wonât be able to smooth out again.
 He doesnât know what to say. What can he say? He canât mend whatâs broken, canât unpull the thread thatâs tugged them out of sync. In less than a day, theyâll be in the museum, and Jonâs skin will be crawling with the memory of ropes tight around his wrists and plastic fingers coated with lotion touching him over and over and over, and theyâll be executing a plan that Jon canât shake the feeling will go horribly, terribly wrong. They have so little time. Never enough time.
 So, Jon says instead, âI remember when we first met. I- I donât know if you do, it- it was very brief, and you seemed quite occupied with whatever case you were researching, but I- I remember. You were, uh. You were wearing that olive green shirt you like, the- the one with the buttons that look like flowers. You were distraught when you ripped the sleeve on that barbed wire fence when we, uh, broke into theââ
 Jon cuts off with a small laugh. âI suppose our research tactics were quite unorthodox. And more than a little illegal at times. But when I got excited about a case and decided to pursue it in a more, er, thorough capacity, you were always there. I- I donât think I ever told you, but that was the first time I realized how much Iâd grown to like you. You, lamenting about how youâd had that shirt for years, so- so dramatic about the whole situation. And I spent a frankly embarrassing amount of time finding another one just like it, an even more embarrassing amount of time figuring out how to give it to you without coming across as- as weird or what have you. But you just smiled and took it, and- and maybe itâs silly, but I think thatâs when IâŚâ
 Jon doesnât say when I started to fall in love with you. But from the pinched look on Timâs face, he knows he doesnât have to.
 Itâs like Jonâs there again, the weight of Timâs smile making his pulse flutter hummingbird-fast in his throat, his voice slipping into the stutter he tried so hard to hide at work so that he came across as professional. He practically thrust the shirt into Timâs hands, his cheeks burning as he did so. And Timâs thank you, so genuine and surprised and happy, had dragged a smile of Jonâs own to his face.
 Tim had liked making Jon flusteredâhad made it a game, figuring out what he could say to make Jon smile or laugh or flush so deeply it was visible against his skin. Jon didnât understand why some of the things he said made Tim smile in return or press a quick kiss to Jonâs lips or give Jon a soft I love you that still made Jonâs pulse quicken no matter how many times Tim said it. But it didnât matter, because Tim understood him.
 Jon misses Tim so much he can hardly breathe, even after everything. His words come out slightly choked when he says, âI remember when you would bring me lunches because you knew I would forget to eat sometimes if I got caught up in my work. And- and when you went to that shop that had a cat and you sent me- Christ, so many pictures, it- it was really quite excessive.â Quieter, Jon says, âAnd when you brought me to that park with the lights, and- and you told me that you loved me.â
 âJon,â Tim says. It comes out tense, like somebody whoâs trying very hard to keep their emotions in check.
 âI know,â Jon says, pulling and pulling at the thread on his shirt until the fabric is bunched up completely and utterly ruined. I miss you. I love you. Iâm sorry. âI⌠I know.â
 Timâs quiet for another long moment. Then, he exhales heavily, like heâd been holding his breath, and moves one hand from the wheel to the center console, palm up.
 Timâs hand is warm in his. He doesnât say anything, just keeps his eyes trained on the road, even as his fingers twine with Jonâs in a practiced motion thatâs still as easy as breathing.
 Jon spends the rest of the car ride memorizing the feel of Timâs hand in his, the shape of his fingers and the soft skin of his palm, and tries very hard not to think about the way it feels like a goodbye.
#tma#tma fic#the magnus archives#the magnus archives fic#jontim#jonathan sims#tim stoker#my fic#my writing#1.7k words isn't exactly a ficlet but I had a lot of emotions about s3 jontim i suppose#oops! all angst#voiceless-terror
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Pandoraâs Box. Yan Chrollo x Reader
Warnings: Medicine mention, descriptions of anxiety, and implied minor character death. Word count: 2.7k.
A simple plan is the best kind to have.Â
The less variables at play, the higher your rates of success are. Youâve anticipated some margin of error, a safety net of sorts, to be used if necessary. Everything within your realm of influence has been taken into account. Your friend in a car meeting you at a dead spot, a train ticket purchased with a prepaid visa card on a VPN, and a few precious pieces of jewelry to be pawned off at a later time. Scraping these assets together is a commendable feat, having to skulk around to make it this far.
Nothing feels out of the ordinary, you think. Your preparations are almost complete. All thatâs left is to wait to ensure the beast in hiding cannot come for you.
Prayer doesnât traditionally feel worth the effort -- any god thatâd allow you to be subjugated to a hell such as this is no god worth pleading to -- but tonight is different. Tonight you pray to any deity that may spare you some pity, that this plan may succeed without a hitch. The time signals the beginning of the next phase, the most vital aspect.Â
Tonightâs soup had an additional ingredient, a generous helping of sleep inducing pills. To avoid suspicion, you partook in the meal as usual, hoping to cancel out the effects later by ingesting a gratuitous amount of energy drinks. It served the original purpose of fending off fatigue, but not without presenting a unique set of problems of its own. The caffeine has served to heighten your anxiety, upping what was already a nerve-wracking experience to a new level.Â
Your guts feeling like theyâre rearranging themselves, your body not capable of forgoing fidgeting a single moment. No longer can you tell if itâs nausea, stomach pain, or hyperventilation. Maybe itâs everything at once. All you know is that youâve never had your body working against you more than now. Every nerve is frayed, your senses on high alert to any shadow or noise.
Deep breaths no longer bring you reprieve. Each raggedy breath you manage to squeeze out is an accomplishment, overshadowed by the fear that he might hear you. How irrational a thought, that Chrollo would be capable of picking up on the differences in your breathing from afar. It doesnât matter how illogical the worry may be. With Chrollo, youâve learned that nothing is impossible. To expect the unexpected has been the mantra of your mind these past few months.Â
Just a bit longer... I need to know heâs asleep for sure. Or else itâs over.
Your foot taps against the ground in a frantic rhythm, ears ringing like funeral tolls. The last time you dared peak into your shared room with Chrollo, he was supposedly fast asleep, out like a light. What shouldâve been a cause for victory brought nothing but a fresh wave of dread. A guessing game ensues. Trying to decipher his body language from earlier for hints only serves to make you feel worse. Youâve been so cautious, walking on sheets of thin ice at every move. Chrollo hadnât acted out of the ordinary to your knowledge. Not that he has a way of acting âordinaryâ anyways, your limited understanding of his person having to suffice.Â
Should everything be going according to your design, your friend will be in position to pick you up. Thereâs no more stalling, the point of return ahead of you.
Itâs time.
You do a final check over your mental checklist. Your backpack is stocked with the necessities: toiletries, a few changes of clothes, a filtered hydro flask, non perishable foods and your train ticket. To any onlooker it might look like youâre going hiking. Sporting worn sneakers, loose-fitting clothes, and having your hair pulled away from your face. This is really it. The culmination of sneaking around behind Chrolloâs back for months, unfolding before your very eyes. Everything is falling into place as itâs meant to.
You walk to the door.Â
Each step you take is quiet as can be. Every shuffle of clothes, or the slightest of creaks from the floorboards, causes you to wince and pause. This penthouse has served as your personal circle of hell for months on end, the walls absorbing your cries and screams. You despise this place with every fiber of your being. The antique dĂŠcor, the ancient texts that lay strewn about, the scent of sandalwood that you find nauseating.Â
Ghosts of the past return to haunt you as you walk through different areas. Swirling around your head, they threaten to consume you, chipping away at your resolve. His hypnotic voice resonates in your mind like whispers of the serpent in the garden, tempting you. Weighing you down. Not even your own mind is a safe haven from his speech that disguises itself as flowery, when the reality is far more sinister. Chrolloâs words are constricting vines, lined with thorns, embedding themselves deeper into your flesh the harder you try to pry them out.Â
âDonât you remember how difficult your life was before me?âÂ
Another step.
âAll those people who left you, who took advantage of you?âÂ
Your hands shake around your small, homemade EMP. Itâs made from spare parts you managed to find around the penthouse, clumsily assembled through trial and error. The pulse it emits is next to nothing. Copper coils threaten to fall loose at any second when you raise it to the security system by the door. Holding your breath, you press down on the trigger. The device lets out rapid clicking sounds, the security monitor flickering before going blank.Â
âI know youâll come around.âÂ
Finally, come the excessive locks on the door. The compressed air you said you needed for cleaning is next up. The can is cool against your trembling fingers, white specs decorating the locks as you spray them over. With some persistence, they come undone, one after the other. Unshackling you from the depths. You open the door thatâs mocked you relentlessly for months, withholding your prized freedom.Â
âBut even in the event that you donât...âÂ
The surrounding world is a blur of colors. Your eyes donât focus on any object for too long, scanning your surroundings for potential threats. It feels as if your stomach is in your throat when the elevator starts its descent. He had you up on the fiftieth floor?Â
You fixate on the screen, numbers not flashing by fast enough for your liking.
40.Â
20.
5.Â
1.
âWell. There are always ways of overcoming inconveniences such as that.âÂ
Itâs an extravagant lobby. Far more luxurious than you could ever have hoped to afford, this building being one of the most exclusive in Yorknew. The person at the front desk calls out and you ignore it. You must look mighty suspicious, not that you care. The priority now is escape. Running out the revolving door, crisp autumn air greets you. Youâve never felt more grateful for the bustling streets of the city. Even at night the city remains awake, making it easier to blend in. No one out here spares you a second glance as you weave in and out of fast paced crowds.Â
23rd street. Thatâs where youâll meet up with your friend, who will then transport you to the subway. Glancing up at the signposts, you realize youâll be in for some walking. Thereâs no letting your guard down. Constantly looking over your shoulder, all you see are the faces of strangers. Youâve never felt so grateful to be a part of a crowd.Â
Finally, after walking for what feels like an eternity, you spot your beacon of hope. A clothing storeâs bright neon sign, which your friend sits parked in front of. Since these stores are closed this time of day, the crowd that once surrounded you have thinned out, yet you try not to fixate on the lack of cover. Jay walking across the street doesnât prove to be an issue. The pollution from the city hides the stars behind a layer of smog, streetlamps your lone source of light.
Heart hammering in your chest, you tap on the window of her car with urgency. âAmelia, itâs me. [First].âÂ
You hear the doors unlock.Â
Taking it as a sign she heard you, you waste no time swinging into the passenger seat of the car. Amelia immediately turns the keys, car humming to life. Your chest heaves with exhaustion from the draining events. This is it. The second to last step before you reclaim your freedom. Itâs almost like a dream, the light at the end of a long tunnel. Ameliaâs appearance is just as you recalled it. Hazel eyes, tan skin, long black hair, and an average build. Your heart leaps at the sight of her.
âIâve been so worried about you,â your friend confesses in a hushed whisper. â[First], what... what happened? You completely fell off the face of the Earth for months. Then you contact me out of nowhere? Whatâs going on?âÂ
It isnât easy meeting her eyes, so you donât. âI... I donât know if itâs safe to talk about it. The less you know, the better.â
She takes a moment to assess you before sighing. âAlright, I can tell this is serious. Just... Iâm glad youâre alright.âÂ
Amelia begins driving without another word. Silence hangs in the air, offering a time to reflect. Your plan, Chrollo, what youâll do next... it whirls around your head like a vortex. A gut feeling refuses to leave you alone whenever you picture his face. A dreadful thought that this entire escapade was too easy. Is it just your paranoia? It could very well be. Hugging your backpack closer to you for comfort, youâre startled by Amelia suddenly speaking up.
âThe subway station, huh,â she reminiscences aloud, eyes flickering from the road to you. âSo youâre leaving Yorknew?âÂ
Thereâs no way to continue dodging her questions. â... Yeah, I am.âÂ
âWhere are you going?âÂ
Itâs natural sheâd have lots of questions. Had the situation been reversed, youâd have plenty of your own. For her wellbeing you donât want to indulge more than necessary. Lying to someone who is helping you lives a sour taste in your mouth. Itâs for her sake, you remind yourself. Having to involve Amelia in this at all was the last thing you wanted to do.Â
âIâm going to Zaban City. I have some extended family there.âÂ
Amelia hums in confirmation to your story. âYour cousin, right?âÂ
âRight.âÂ
She stops pressing that particular subject, likely sensing your apprehension. You take advantage of the peaceful atmosphere and close your eyes. The sleeping pills from earlier are starting to grow more prominent. Losing consciousness is the last thing you need right now, but indulging in some much needed rest sounds too inviting.Â
âThere was something else I was wondering about.â Amelia starts, earning your attention. Looks like sleep will have to wait for later. You yawn, stretching your weary limbs, and wait for her to continue. She smiles, dark eyelashes fluttering shut in deep thought.
âOh, sweet [First],â she whispers your name in the gentlest of tones, and looks over at you. âWhy are you so selfish?âÂ
You blink, the words not settling in immediately. âWhat...?âÂ
She continues without missing a beat. âYou used to be so envious of me. Always pretending to play nice, because you were too passive to say how you really felt. How you hated me.âÂ
âAmelia? What are you talking about? I... I never hated you, what--âÂ
âEven now you canât bring yourself to admit the truth,â she sighs. âNot that Iâm surprised. Youâve always cared way too much about what people think. Why would now be any different?âÂ
Her unexpected attack on your character has you shifting in your seat. Every word that leaves her lips is in her voice, yet feels so different than her normal character. Did something happen in the time Chrollo took you away? Anxiety rears its ugly head at the line of questioning. You take a sudden interest in your fingers, playing with them on your lap.Â
âI donât understand where any of this is coming from.â You admit, eyebrows furrowing together. The shift in atmosphere is tangible. What was once a warm reunion under stressful times has corrupted into a frosty confrontation. These insecurities of hers that laid dormant in your heart... why is she bringing this up now? In your most vulnerable hour? Nothing is making sense. These ugly feelings of yours were only ever confided in one person.Â
âYou knew itâd be a danger to my life to contact me. You knew that, and still you did it all the same. I wonder why that is. Could it be... that you wouldnât care if I died? If I was tortured for aiding your escape?âÂ
Your heart drops. This knowledge... how can she know any of this? Amelia used the word escape, clear as day. Is that a coincidence? You look over at the car door, seeing itâs locked. Somethingâs not right here, you deduce. I donât know what it is exactly, but something is very wrong...!Â
She continues on. âI really do want to know what your justification for this is. Out of everyone you couldâve picked for help, you specifically chose me, knowing the danger itâd bring. Did you think Iâd be spared in some sort of miracle?âÂ
The spare moonlight streaming in illuminates Ameliaâs face, highlighting how pale her skin looks. Veins that would normally not have been so prominent have a blue tint, her lips a similar shade. Your eyes drop to the unnaturally large scarf that surrounds her neck. Itâs not that cold out yet, why is she wearing something so cumbersome? Reaching out with unsteady hands, you pull the fabric back. Your gut feels like itâs been punched at the sight, eyes widening in horror.Â
On the back of her neck is an antenna, with bat wings on the end.Â
Shit! Shit, shit, shit--Â
In a frenzy, you stretch forward, searching for the button to unlock the car door. The second you find it, itâs pressed, and you unbuckle your seatbelt. You hear her speaking up again. Your heart feels like itâs about to burst from your chest as you jump out the car, grateful it isnât going too fast. Skin meeting asphalt, you hiss at the pain, rolling onto your side. None of that matters now. How did he do it? He has to be nearby, maybe you can still make it to the station in time. Your head hurts from the impact, legs wobbling like jelly.Â
Itâs difficult to focus. You grit your teeth, utilizing the remnants of your strength to get to your knees. Why did the caffeine have to wear off so soon...? It was going so well. You finally had your chance, your time to take back your life. To go back to how things were. Struggling to get to your feet, you throw your backpack off, praying the lost weight will help you get up.Â
âYou never answered my questions,â calls a deeper voice. You gulp back acidic bile as a hand is extended in front of you. âI was hoping you would.âÂ
Your head hangs down. Itâs over. For a transgression such as this, you imagine youâre in for quite the punishment. How funny a thing fate is. Similar to streams of rushing water, there are many twists and turns, leading you down paths you never wanted to go. Fingernails dig into the sensitive flesh of your palms, the pain anchoring your wandering mind to reality. All other parts of your body have lost feeling. Numbness is what youâve come to know.Â
The devil incarnate bends over, taking your tearstained face into his fingers, and lifting it to meet his eyes. An abyss of grey stares back at you, devoid of humanity. Taking pleasure in besting you yet again. Disappointment is mixed within an interest to see what youâll do next. Thereâs no smile on his face as youâve come to expect. You see an empty shell of a man glowering down at you, from a place just out of reach.Â
âI canât say Iâm too pleased about this, [First]. Weâll need to have a long discussion, donât you think?âÂ
#chrollo lucilfer#chrollo#chrollo imagine#chrollo lucilfer imagine#chrollo x reader#yandere chrollo#yandere chrollo imagine#yandere chrollo lucilfer#yandere chrollo x reader#yandere#yandere x reader#Hunter X Hunter#hunter x hunter imagine#yandere hunter x hunter#hunter x hunter imagines#hxh x reader#yandere hxh x reader#my stuff
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TITLE: two truths and a lie.
Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug Ship: The Love Square - SnekMouse Rating: T [ AO3 ]
Summary:
âFor the, uh, game. You said two things,â he said, holding up two fingers. He wiggled one finger. Â âThat there was a, uh, boy youâve been in love with for years,â then the other. âAnd that you want to get over him.â
âI get that,â he said quietly, tapping a rhythm against her shoulder with his fingers. âDo you, uh, do you see him everyday?â
âMore than he knows, I think,â she said, her tone a little sly, as if she was sharing an inside joke with herself. âHe sits right in front of me in class, actually.â
-o-
âI realised Iâm in love with this girl recently, Iâm scared to ask her out. She, um, sits in front of me, an-andâŚâ he floundered before finally tacking on a lie. âShe knows exactly how I feel.â
... Or in which warm feelings flare in chests, soft gazes are exchanged, blushes are blushed and confessions are made without even intending to.
One of their evening patrols ended with the two of them after patrol on a secluded rooftop, with beer in cheap plastic cups in each of their hands, and two half empty bottles of it between the two of them. They sat on the balustrade, feet swinging as they looked out at the city, chuckling as they played a game of Two Truths and a Lie.
Aspik found that beer, if had in, er, generous amounts , could in fact make one tipsy, as well as loose-lipped. He was sure Multimouse wouldâve figured him out if she hadnât been a little tipsy and out of it herself...
People love photographing me, I hate that they do ( She had looked at him somewhat sadly at that ) and I love shopping for my own clothes. Â
My dadâs a dick, Ladybug is the uh worst and my bestfriend is a superhero. ( She had giggled uncontrollably. )
Modelling is my dream job, I enjoy piano and I love our patrols together. ( He suspected, in a very self-satisfied manner, that the flaming of her cheeks didnât have much to do with the cold. )
âŚAnd well, If he didnât already know Multimouseâs identity, after tonight he definitely would have....
My parents are bakers, I have a DJ friend and Iâve never dated a musician. Â
I have a journalist friend, I want to be a⌠singer and all walls in my room are pink
Chat Noirâs hair is as soft as it looks but donât tell him I said that ( If Multimouse wondered why Aspik was blushing, she didnât voice that ) . I like wearing my hair in pigtails and Iâm allergic to marigolds. (Hard, because Aspik couldnât possibly say that heâd seen her eat marigolds; he never questioned it of course.)
âYour previous suit design was awful, I love rose macarons and Chat Noirâs puns are amazing,â she giggled.
Aspike let out an amused snort. âYou love rose macarons. And you love Chat Noirâs puns. So the lie obviously, is about my suit. My suit was the best .â
Multinouse giggled harder, cheeks flushed pink under her mask. The beer must be really getting to her, he thoughts, watching as she took another sip. â False ,â she declared. âChat Noirâs puns are awful .â
Aspik huffed. âMy suit was just fine , little mouse.â
âSure, snake boy,â she snorted.
âIâll have you know Iâm an expert on fashion,â he sniffed.
âIâm sure you are, Mr. Celebrity,â she laughed.
Multimouse reached over to ruffle his hair, laughing harder at his petulant look as he attempted to flatten his hair. Just as he was attempting to straighten his bangs, he caught her soft blue gaze on him. She was smiling at him warmly, almost a wistful expression on her face.
âWhat is it?â he asked, tilting his head.
She shook her head, almost as if she was snapping herself out of something. The softness left her face and she gave him a weak smile. âYour turn,â she said, downing her cup.
He watched quietly for a few moments, as she hastily refilled her cup. He cleared his throat and looked away, training his eyes on the city lights.
âIâm thankful to have you in my life and that weâre friends, your suit is super cute, grey and pink? Very you . And uhâŚâ he floundered, when he sensed her wide-eyed blue gaze. âI⌠Uh, hate passionfruit?â
He heard her let out laughter, and he couldnât help but turn to look at her. âYou donât hate passion fruit,â she giggled.
He snorted. âWell, how would you know? Maybe your suit is not cute. Maybe youâre not my friend.â
âYouâre so silly,â she laughed. âDonât think I havenât seen you scarf down the passion fruit macarons I bring occasionallyâŚâ
âWell, only a fool would dislike those,â he said petulantly. âI can tell theyâre baked with love,â he added teasingly, wagging his eyebrows at her.
She blushed and looked away, nervously patting one of her space buns. â...Er, well, m-my suit is amazing . I only ever wear top notch fashion, th-thank you very much.â
He grinned. âIâm sure you do.â
âAnd I⌠WeâreâŚâ She seemed to inhale deeply, before her gaze flickered over to his, a little wistful. âFriends. I know we are. You make sure to let me know.â She laughed, though it sounded a little hollow to his ears. âEveryday.â
Her eyes widened a fraction and she chuckled nervously. âI mean, everytime we patrol.â
Aspik frowned at the distant look in her eyes and the nervous fidgeting of her hands. He scooted a little closer to her and hesitantly took her hand in his. She stiffened, but only for a moment before relaxing again with a gentle sigh. She leaned her head against his shoulder.
âIâm glad weâre friends,â she said softly, and added almost as if to herself. âIâm happy weâre at least that.â
âMe too,â he said, before adding gently. âYour turn.â
âWhat? Oh, um right,â she said, and he felt her fidget lightly before settling down.
âIâve been crazy in love with a boy for years,â she started, and Adrien froze. How had he forgotten about that . âI need to get over him, because I know he doesnât see me that way...â
âHeâs an idiot,â huffed Aspik, illiciting a startled laugh out of her.
âHeâs not,â she said. âHeâs the smartest, sweetest and kindest person Iâve met. Second only to maybe Chat Noir.â
âSo Chat Noir is first , huh?â preened Adrien.
âDonât tell him I said that,â she laughed. âIt wonât do his ego any good.â
âPfft,â said Aspik dismissively. âHeâs the humblest hero of them all.â
âSure,â said Multimouse, rolling her eyes.
âBut we digress,â said Aspike. âThis debate is on hold until further notice.â
âWhatever you say, liâl snek.â
They were silent for a few minutes before Aspik finally cracked. âYou only said two things.â
âWhat?â she asked, lifting her head off his shoulder to look at him.
âFor the, uh, game. You said two things,â he said, holding up two fingers. He wiggled one finger. Â âThat there was a, uh, boy youâve been in love with for years,â then the other. âAnd that you want to get over him.â
âHm,â she hummed, looking away again before letting out a soft self-depriciating laugh. âItâs going to be so easy to?â
Aspik wrapped a hand around her shoulder to tuck her further into his side, because what an idiot of a guy.
âI get that,â he said quietly, tapping a rhythm against her shoulder with his fingers. âDo you, uh, do you see him everyday?â
âMore than he knows, I think,â she said, her tone a little sly, as if she was sharing an inside joke with herself. âHe sits right in front of me in class, actually.â
Adrien felt his breath rush out of his lungs, as the world shifted in his mindâs eye. Like a fast replay of everything with a new filter, and he felt his chest start to warm. He tightened his grip around her and pulled her tighter against him.
He cleared his throat. âHave you, um, tried asking him out?â
âOnly a hundred times,â she laughed. âItâs always gone wrong. Maybe that was for the best anyway. He doesnât⌠He doesnât see me like that.â
âAnd how do you know that? If you havenât asked him out?â
âHe says that weâre âjust friendsâ at least once a week.â Marinette snorted. âI am starting to think thatâs his way of gently letting me down without really having to reject me. He values friendships too much for that, I think.â
âYou should really not make presumptions,â he said nervously, heart racing.
âPretty sure I know what Iâm talking about, Aspik. Iâm sure I know what Iâm talking about.â
âIncluding his feelings?â
âFeelings heâs made pretty clear,â she said as she drew circles on the back of his hand.
Aspik sighed, feeling like he was on the precipice of losing something he hadnât even known he had. He really, really did not want to let go.
âMy turn,â he said quietly. âI⌠Thereâs this⌠girl.â
Multimouse seemed to deflate a little next to him, which he couldnât help but find a little perplexing. But he trudged forth.
âI realised Iâm in love with this girl recently, Iâm scared to ask her out andâŚâ he floundered before finally tacking on a lie. âShe knows exactly how I feel.â
âWell, thatâs kind of obvious, snake boy,â she sighed. âI donât see what you have to be scared aboutâŚâ
âShe⌠I found out only today that sheâs trying hard to move on from me.â
âThat means she still does have feelings for you.â Her voice was smaller than heâd like, almost a breathy resignation to it. âYou should ask her anyway. I canât imagine anyone saying no to you.â
âYeah?â
She lifted her head off his shoulder, her gaze warm, smile fond. âYeah.â
Aspik hummed. âEven you?â
âOf course! I just told you I- Well, I- I mean, if-if it werenât for that guy I told you about, then um, yes. Definitely. For sure. Yep.â
âYou think so?â
âYeah.â
âMaybe Iâll leave a note on her desk when school re-opens after Winter Break. With a bunch of flowers.â
âYeah, Iâm sure sheâd like that,â sighed Multimouse.
âActually, maybe not,â he amended thoughtfully. âShe sits right behind me, so itâll be hard for me to see her reaction. And sheâs a little prone to easily freaking out,â he chuckled fondly. âMaybe I should enlist my bestfriendâs girlfriend for help. Those two are bestfriends, you know, and sheâs a schemer, that one. What do you think I should-â
He stopped when he realised Multimouseâs head wasnât against his shoulder anymore. He turned to see that she was staring at him with wide eyes, head tilted curiously
âDid you say that she sits behind you? Like right behind you?â
âYeah.â
âHuh,â she muttered. âY-You said that she has feelings for you. And that you found out she was trying to get over them.â
Adrien unfortunately had always been just a little slow on the uptake. So he chuckled a little. âYeah, found out today, in fact.â
â Today ?â
âYep, today.â
âShe told you herself, did she?â
He really should have noticed the careful neutrality in her tone. Â
âYes, actually,â he nodded vigorously. âBut you seem to think thereâs still hope, so I⌠Wait a second .â
He whirled on her, eyes narrowed, to find that she was studying him too.
âDo youâŚ. Know ?â she asked first, eyebrows set in a wary pinch.
Aspik hesitated before leaning closer to her, almost nose to nose now bodies twisted to face each other. He turned completely to her in a moment, one leg folded, the other hanging off the ledge of the roof.
âDo⌠you know?â
âI asked first, mon ĂŠ cailles .â The slight twitch of her eye gave away her faux serious facade though.
He smirked as he wrapped a hand under her knee to tug her closer, while her hands came up to hold his shoulders so she could stabilize herself. âCanât argue with that logic ma petite souris ,â he chuckled, face towering over hers. âBut Iâm afraid I have the upper hand here.â
With that he kissed the corner of her lips ( Her. Lips. ), just as he decided to hell with it and tugged her onto his lap ( Oh, my god! ) fully.
âA-Aspik!â she squeaked as he looked up at her affectionately, before pressing a kiss to the other corner of her mouth.
âMultimouse,â he said, now his hands wrapped around her hips, zero room between them.
She was watching him with parted lips, face flaming, while her expression was of utter disbelief. Hesitantly, her hand went up to trace his mask, before it settled on cupping his cheek. Blushing, she looked at him with soft eyes before leaning slightly and kissing the apple of his cheek.
âHow⌠How did you find out?â he asked quietly, as she started to draw back.
She looked panicked for a moment before relief seemed to wash over her.
âThe game sort of gave you away,â she admitted, not meeting his eyes as one of her hands snaked ( snaked , heh) over his chest and over his shoulder so she could play with the hair at the nape of his neck. âUm, so what gave me away?â she asked shyly.
He froze for only a second before thanking the gods for having Marinette herself present the answer to him.
âThe game,â he grinned.
She groaned before deflating in his arms ( In. His. Arms!!! ), forehead resting against his shoulder.
âI knew the beer was a terrible idea,â she whined. âIt made us too loose-lipped!â
âBeg to differ,â said Aspik. âBest idea youâve had, I think.â
Multimouse giggled. âMaybe.â
âHey, Marinette?â
âHm?â
âI do love you, you know. I meant that.â
She was quiet for some time before she finally drew away from him to look him in the face. She brushed his hair out of his eyes, dancing with a pure sort of happiness that made his heart burst with joy. She kissed his forehead, and then the tip of his nose, making his face heat up with anticipation.
As he watched, her eyes flickered to his lips, before she looked away nervously, biting her lower lip with worry. Adrienâs heart warmed - what, was this the hundredth time just that night? - and he brushed the tip of his nose against her chin.
âYou know, you keep doing that and I might just kiss you,â he said teasingly.
He laughed softly as the tips of her ears turned red. âWell, you wonât hear me complain, mon ĂŠcaille irisĂŠe ,â she muttered.
And well, so he kissed her. She seemed frozen in shock for a fleeting second before melting against him. Her hands locked around the nape of his neck as she pulled him closer, an almost mind-numbing tug at the base of his skull as she tilted his head back to get a better angle. He decided then and there that he wouldn't complain if they never stopped. He tried his best to cull the purr building in his throat because that would be dead giveaway, and wondered briefly if he'd develop snake-like tendencies as well if he wore the miraculous long enough. His teeth grazed her lower lip, where hers had been less than thirty seconds ago, and he bit it gently, greedily swallowing the moan she let out.
They finally parted for breath, and her buns sat skewed on the top of her head, messed up and unkempt, some strands straying loose and falling on her as she stared at him.
âYou know, no oneâs ever called me iridiscent before,â he said, eyes dancing with mirth as he swept back some of the loose hair off her face.
âShut up, nicknames arenât really my forte,â she pouted, leaning into give him another peck against his lips.
âNo, I love it,â he assured her, making her look down at him again. âWill you promise to call me that forever?â he asked teasingly, an eyebrow quirked with mirth.
Everytime he thought she couldnât turn any redder, she proved him wrong. And he loved her for it.
âYouâre too much,â she complained. âYou and Chat have been spending too much time together!
Adrien only laughed. âBut you looooooove me.â
âYeah I do.â
âIâm glad you didnât get over me,â he said quietly.
Her smile faded and she looked at him fondly. âThanks to you, you donât make it easy, you know.â
âSo Iâve heard,â he chuckled.
#the love square#snekmouse#ml#mlb#ml fic#mlb fic#aspik#multimouse#adrien agreste#chat noir#ladybug#fluff#light angst#reveal#ac fic
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Captain
hard volleyball coach!lukeÂ
~Â
this was going to be one of the biggest games of our entire season. we had to win at least three games in regionals in order to make it to the championships. and luke was being way tougher than he needs to be. he always made a jab at me any chance he got, if i missed a dig, if my serve didnât go over the net or into the net, anything that i did wrong, he made sure to let me know. it was making me so mad to the point where i would mess up everything i did. it didnât help that there was this awkward tension between us. ever since he decided to make me captain, it was like a constant battle between us to see who the girls would listen to more. i also had to stay with him for a few days since my whole apartment building had to be renovated for some reason, and that wasnât helping one bit.
âalright girls, wrap it up! practice is over!â luke shouted over the music. everyone stopped and began to take down the nets and shag the balls. once everything was done, we huddled in a circle so i could tell them about this weekend. âokay, we have to win at three games if we wanna make it to the championships. iâm not worried about our bracket, itâs just the last game we play is against red rocks, and you know they like to play dirty. we just need to be on our toes and ready for whatever they plan, alright?â they all agreed and began to leave the gym one by one.
i walked over to luke, he was looking over the stats and our formations. he looked down at me before speaking, âyou need to get your serves under control if you want to beat red rocks, they canât keep going out.â i rolled my eyes before responding, âit didnât help that you kept yelling at me while i was mid-air. if you even paid attention, youâd know that only two of my serves went out.â âand how many went into the net?â luke asks, raising a brow. i didnât respond. âthatâs what i thought, now letâs go.â
we walked to his car and got in without saying another word to each other. âiâve been thinking, since you canât seem to wrap your head around that your serving needs improvement, that tomorrow morning iâm waking you up and weâre going to practice.â he finally speaks. i turn and look at him, âyouâre kidding right? my serving needs improvement? have you seen reaganâs? she needs help! not me!â i argue. âdonât talk back to me.â luke turns and gives me a harsh glare. âno! itâs not fair to me that you call me out on this bullshit! i wasnât doing anything wrong, my form is perfectly fine.â i argued back.
i crossed my arms and turned to look out the window. he couldnât be serious. the amount of unnecessary training he makes me do just because i had one bad practice is not fair. if luke actually paid attention to his team, he would know that some of the other girls need his help way more than i do. âiâm not training in the morning. i have plans and iâm not cancelling them just because you think theyâre bad serves.â i tell him. i could tell he was ready to explode with the way i was talking. luke was not one to take disrespectful tone, and if you talked back, you were doing the worst drills you could think of.
luke takes a deep breath and finally looks over at me, âi expect more out of you. i made you captain for a reason, but if you canât handle it, maybe you donât deserve it.â my mouth drops and my brows raise. âi can definitely handle it! what i canât handle is you having a pissy attitude with me for no fucking reason!â i screamed back at him. lukeâs knuckles turn white from gripping the wheel so hard, and he quickly pulls over into a dark and empty parking lot. âget in the back.â he demands. âwhat? no, youâre just in a shitty mood because your poor ego got damaged.â i say, crossing my arms again. âdid i fucking stutter? get in the back before i make you.â he bellows.
i unbuckle my seat belt and climb over the console to the back seat. luke unbuckles his seat belt and the door on his side opens as he slides in before closing it. he moves both of the front seats up for he has more room to move. luke takeâs two of the seat belts that are hanging from the ceiling and grabs my wrists before wrapping the belts around them. âiâm sick of this fucking attitude youâve gotten recently. youâve been nothing but disrespectful to me this past week, i might just have to bench you for the first game.â he grunts through his teeth. âyou canât do that!â i practically spit back at him.
luke raises a brow at me, âi can do whatever i fucking please, little girl. i make the rules, i run the team, do you understand me?â one of his hands grabs my throat, squeezing the sides of it lightly. i nod my head at his statement. âyou better fucking answer me, with that attitude, you donât want to piss me off even more.â âi-i understand!â i answered quickly. he takes my answer as an opportunity to start rubbing my heat with his free hand, âaddress me properly, and iâll consider letting you cum.â âi understand, sir.â
luke has a satisfied smile on his face. his lips are threatening to run themselves up my neck, his breath is hot on my ear lobe when i hear him speak, âyou know, you act so tough in front of everyone else, but when youâre under my touch, youâre nothing but a whiney little brat.â i buck my hips up to meet his hand once they make their way inside my spandex. he traces the band of my panties, avoiding specific areas that he knows will make me beg. âplease, sir, take them off,â i whisper.
luke hums in response, âand why should i do that? go on and tell me, angel, wanna hear you beg for it.â i push my hips against his hand again, moving as much as i could for him to just brush his fingers against me. âi want them inside, please!â âdonât think you deserve it, angel, you really donât. but, fuck, itâs so wet. why is it so wet?â he growls into my ear. âb-because of you, sir.â i stammer, arching into him. both of lukeâs hands loop themselves onto the band of my spandex and slide them down my leg, leaving me exposed and ready for his use.
he takes his middle and ring finger and taps it against my lips. i gladly take them in my mouth, sucking and swirling them while maintaining eye contact. he takes them out and starts to rub generous circles on my clit. he finally slides his fingers straight into my heat, not wasting a second before he starts pumping it in and out, reaching further and further inside with each thrust. he finally hits that spot, and i let out a small little whimper, and you could practically hear his smirk on his face.
i close my eyes and let my head lean on one of my arms that are above my head. luke stops for a moment, âuh-uh, watch.â is all he says before carrying on. my eyes open and i look down to see the erotic scene happening. lukeâs fingers are gliding so smoothly inside and out of me, you could practically see how soaked they were. he continues to hit the spot that makes me want to close everything around him. âplease, sir, please, iâm so close,â i whisper.
luke doesnât answer, he just carries on, adding his thumb into the mixture of things. my back arches into the air, my heat clenching down around lukeâs fingers making it harder for him to move them. âright there! right there, sir. fuck, please, please, am i allowed to cum?â i whine, rolling my hips into the rhythm of his fingers. âno.â he simply answers, and then takes his fingers out. my hips buck up into the air, trying to chase that high i was feeling.
luke delivers a harsh slap on top of clit causing my legs to close. âlike i said, iâd consider it. now open them back up, iâm not done with you.â luke carries on this process four more times. my cheeks are stained with tears and are crimson red. my wrists are burning from tugging them against the buckles. his fingers are constantly driving so hard and so fast into me, i could feel a bubble in my stomach that was going to burst within the next few seconds.
my legs begin to shake around his hand, hoping he can see how desperate i am for my release. i could feel that bubble start to burst, but just as itâs about to, luke removes his fingers from me, again. luke licks his fingers clean before getting back into the drivers seat and carry on driving, leaving me in the back, restrained and unable to finish myself off. âyouâre fucking kidding me,â i grunt. iâm met with a harsh glare in the rear view mirror.
âevery single noise that comes past those lips, iâll be coming up with more punishments, donât push me.â
#luke hemmings smut#luke hemmings preference#luke hemmings imagine#luke hemmings fanfic#luke hemmings 5 seconds of summer#luke hemmings 5sos smut#luke hemmings 5sos#luke hemmings#luke#lh#5 seconds of summer smut#5 seconds of summer imagine#5 seconds of summer preference#5 seconds of summer fanfic#5 seconds of summer#5sos smut#5sos imagine#5sos preference#5sos
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This is calm, and it's, Doctor #3
TW -mention of case and bodily torture etc.
The Unsub was targeting red-heads. They were bound and kept for a week and then murdered in what seemed to be the messiest way possible.
"One girl every week. As soon as he dumps one, he already has another," JJ spoke, showing photos of victims and crime scenes on the big screen, "this is week four, and this week has only just started for our unsub." She finished, looking around the table.
"judging by how fast the unsub replaces these girls, I feel like it's safe to assume that he felt he was easily replaced, most likely by a former girlfriend and now feels like he is getting some sort of revenge on her with these innocent ladies." I chimed in. Everyone nodding in agreement, continuing to add their own theories.
It felt like the side of my head was burning. I turned to the direction the sensation was coming from, my eyes averted the gaze of Spencer, who quickly looked away, playing coy and shuffling in his seat. The meeting finished and Hotch turned to me,
"Got your go-bag?" His face still stern.
"In the car, Sir." I replied, he barely reacted, but I could tell he was a little surprised for me to be prepared to go on my first day.
"Good. Wheels up in thirty." And with that, he took his file and left the room.
"So, JJ showed us your resume, and I think it's fair to say that you and pretty boy will be quite close competition." Derek teased while propping himself on the desk next to me. Confused I asked him,
"Competition for what?" Seeing as we're supposed to be a team and all.
"Who's got the biggest brains!" He replied, almost shocked that I didn't know the answer.
"Oh..." I trailed off, looking quickly at Spencer who was watching our conversation, "I guess we'll see. I gotta get my go-bag, it's in the car-"
Derek leaned in towards me, "Take him with you. He needs some decent company." I nodded and stood up. I waved at Spencer to follow me.
He hesitated at first, but Derek and everyone else ushered him to follow. We grabbed our files and headed out of the conference room, hearing giggles as we left, Spencer looked back for a second, causing me to as well.
Nearing the elevator, no words were spoken, the silence wasn't awkward, but it felt like he wanted to say something. We got in the elevator and I thanked him for buying my coffee this morning.
He let out a small sigh and a light laugh,
"Yeah, well, not that were knew you were going to be there, BUT, seeing as you were and U recognised you from your file...I heard you mention how nervous you were and I wanted to help, it seems like I didn't help, instead threw you off even more. You were so flustered, I felt so bad. You reminded me of myself when I first started. That's why I didn't say anything else until Morgan showed up..." His head lowered as if he was talking to the ground.
"Oh, no, please don't feel bad. I was mostly confused at the gesture of a stranger buying me something, even if it was just coffee." I reassured him. The elevator doors opened and we stepped out, Reid following me to my car, he asked me what Morgan had whispered in my ear earlier.
"He just said you needed company, and I'm also in need of company, so I was happy to take the offer." I told him, leaning into the boot of my car to grab my bag.
I shut the boot and looked up at him, his face sceptical of what I'd just said.
"I'm happy to have the company. I'll take all the company I can get right now." I confirmed with him. Seeming satisfied with my answer, we headed back.
Once we got back to the bullpen, the team all came over to us and we all started talking. After a while of small talk, we all drifted toward where I assumed the jet would be. I was trailing at the back, following the group, enjoying myself, feeling very happy that everyone was so accepting.
Walking into the jet, everyone seemed to have their own seats. Hotch at the front, Rossi across the table in the same booth. JJ across the small Hall from them. Emily and Derek sharing a booth behind JJ, and Spencer, at a table by himself toward the back. The only seat available was the one at the table with Spencer. I sat down and he pulled out a chess set.
"Do you play?" He looked over expectantly.
"Not competitively." I said, adjusting myself in my seat.
The game lasted what seemed like forever. I played along with him, amusing him and testing the waters, but I could see his moves before he was even thinking about them. I made my final move, pinning his King into a check mate.
"No way!" He whined, his voice almost a squeak, throwing his hands in the air. He pouted, crossing his arms over his chest, falling back in to his chair.
"Next time." I giggled at him.
Hotch called for everyone's attention, discussing the case and delegating roles. Being told that I would be out in the field while Reid was to stay at the local station caused a tiny sick feeling in my stomach v unsure why, I distracted myself by getting up to get a coffee. I walked into the smaller room in the back and grabbed a cup.
Derek popped in, offering some help with the coffee machine.
"You're doing good with him." He nodded towards Spencer who was looking over the cheese board, I assume replaying in his head.
"I'm just treating him like a person. I rather enjoy his company." I said, studying Spencer, sadness beginning to creep in me, knowing what is like to be the outcast.
We finished making my coffee and I settled down on the chair in front of Sidney. Watching his facial expressions as he replayed the game, occasionally moving and replacing pieces. I stopped my coffee in amusement. I helped him out, by putting pieces back to the move before his last fatal move was. He focused, his eyes flicking between pieces over the board. He made a nice and looked up at me and nodded towards the board.
I saw that his move was different than the game we just played, so I adjusted him and made my own move. It was over in 5, Reid's face following ad he realised he got me. He not-so-subtly chicken to himself, interlacing his fingers, sitting back with the biggest smile across his lips. I sipped my coffee, smiling at the beautifully wholesome scene unfolding in front of me.
"You're good." I praised, taking another sip of coffee, watching him silently accept the compliment, nodding in agreement.
We landed and everyone went their separate ways, to their assigned locations. Emily and I were together. We went to the most recent crime scene. When we arrived, I got my gloves out and ready.
"The lack of blood staining indicates that the victims were definitely killed elsewhere and this is purely a dump site." I trailed off, remembering the pictures of the victims, "He also took their hearts, right. That fits in with him being replaced. He must have given his all to this girl, so when she moved on, she took his heart with her, leaving him empty. More he's getting his revenge how he sees fit." Emily nodded, agreeing with what I was saying.
We looked around a bit more, not finding much. Emily got a call from Hotch, calling us back to the station. We got back in the car and drove off, Emily driving.
"Crazy first day, hey?" She questioned, glancing my way for a second.
"It's gone. I was packed ready. Not that I was expecting to get the job, but I was just so excited. I had to be ready for anything, you know?" My voice light as I recounted this morning's events and how everyone had been so nice.
"You're doing great!" She chimed, "And... having two brainiacs on the team will make it interesting..." Her voice trailed off.
"He's good at chess." I remarked, smiling at the thought of playing him again.
"Three PHD's means you're fierce competition, y/n. He hasn't had that yet. As long as you don't go too crazy with showing off, I think you two will get along great. He loves being challenged and using his brain...." She continued to list a few things that she's learnt about Sidney, making a mental Lyst, I thanked her for letting me know as we were pulling up to the station car park.
She smiled at me as we entered the building. Opening up the door, we went in. We found Reid hovering over a board-map set up with markers in hand. Watching him work was almost relaxing. He had a rhythm, almost, in the way he measured distances, made his marks on the map and the occasional tapping of the markers on his chin as he quietly thought to himself.
I didn't want to interrupt his train of thought, so I stood off to the side, I could see the board clearly at I leaned against a nearby desk b Emily joining me, offering me a cup of coffee she had just made. Her and I watched Reid as he worked.
Soon enough the rest of the team arrived. There wasn't many leads and it was getting late. Hotch dismissed everyone and we went across the road to the hotel. Everyone went their separate ways and went to bed.
This is part #3.
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could you do #13 of the meet ugly prompts? your one with michael as the tennis player was so good I wish you could do all of them! thanks!
Authorâs Note: Have a whole damn fic, I guess. lol And thank you for the compliment. I so appreciate it!
Is my whole memory of my childhood a lie or did a few American school buses have the seats Iâm describing here? Help an ancient remember!
Prompt: we make contact before trying to steal the last seat on the subway/bus/train and I end up in your lap and fuck you, Iâm going to stay here because Iâve had a really long day and this seat was mine
Fuck the motherfucking desert.
Alex shifts restlessly from one foot to the other, grimacing as a fat bead of sweat charts a slow, inevitable path down his spine and into the waistband of his jeans. Heâs been out in the desert all day on a school tripâthe classâs fifth of the semester; this time they visited a geological field study site in the desert forty-five minutes out of town. And Alex is wearing all black. And skinny jeans. And forced to spend the day with his peers. Â
The class mills around the rest area, waiting on the bus driver to return and drive them, blissfully, home. Alex squints against the harsh, mid-afternoon sun at his teacher, clipboard in hand and preparing for his final head count of the day. Alex scowls. Every time, every time he does this: calls roll alphabetically and heards each student one-by-one onto the bus; which means that nearly every field trip for the entire year Alex Manes has lost the coveted single seat to Michael fucking Guerin.Â
Thereâs one individual seat on each of the Roswell Independent School District's sorry fleet of buses. Itâs in the way, way back, almost hidden from view, stuffed in the far corner of each busâs left side, a glorious twenty inches of nothing between it and the aisle. Most other students avoid it in favor of nearly an hour of uninterrupted social time with friends and partners. Alex might, too, if Liz or Maria or even Rosa were with him. But Alex Manes is cursed with both a second-half-of-the-alphabet surname and a shitty class schedule. All year heâs been stuck on a bus with Kyle Valenti, half the football team, and Guerin.
Guerinâs a cool guy. A deliberate loner, like Alex; he exists either in solitude or as an object orbiting the Evans twins, arm linked snugly with Isobelâthough it doesnât seem romanticâor body bouncing restlessly off Maxâdefinitely not romantic. But for the past semester heâs heaved himself onto the bus and planted himself in the single seat, opening a thick, battered notebook and scribbling furiously with a worn down pencil. Alex doubts that Guerin even realizes anyone else would want that seat, which is why, this time, he has a plan. Alex is going to approach Guerin calmly, amiably, and ask that he cede the seat to Alex for the rest of the semester. And if Alex happens to be wearing his tightest jeans and the tee-shirt that went through the dryer on high and now fits snug around his biceps and broadening chest, well. In war you use every tool at your disposal. And the way Guerinâs gaze lingers on Alexâs ass as he bends over his backpack and flits from his arms to his shoulders to his pecs in gym has Alex thinking his body might be his secret weapon. He tries not to think about how Guerinâs eyes on him makes his pulse quicken and all the blood rush from his head, leaving him dizzy and, regrettably, half-hard in the hallway or the locker room.
The driver returns and their teacher begins roll as students shove the remnants of lunches into their backpacks and pull out earbuds. Alex scans the area, seeking out Guerin where heâs hunched over his notebook, curl hanging heavy over one eye. He looks up when his name is called, catches Alexâs eye and, to Alexâs surprise, shoots him a knowing grin and a wink, ambling onto the bus and heading straight for the back. Alex is briefly stunned, but he passes quickly to rage.
Oh, game on, motherfucker.
He practically vibrates with indignation as he waits for his name to be called and, when his disinterested instructor finally calls âManes,â Alex stalks on the bus and heads straight for Guerin. When he catches sight of Alex striding single-mindedly towards him, Guerinâs eyes widen and he presses himself back against the dirty vinyl cushion, tense for a moment as though preparing to be bodily removed from his seat. Instead, Alex casually tosses his bag on the ground, spins on the balls of his feet, and drops heavily into Guerinâs lap.
âUh, hi,â Guerin says with a laugh, arms raised in the air helplessly around Alexâs body. âMake yourself comfortable, I guess?â
 Alex pulls his iPod and earbuds out of his pocket.
âGuerin,â he greets him disinterestedly, scrolling for his favorite band and turning up the volume, effectively ending the conversation before it begins. He feels rather than hears Guerin chuckle against his back, and a moment later Guerinâs hands fall lightly to Alexâs hips, fingers digging in when the bus lurches into motion and Alex bounces unexpectedly.Â
Half the ride passes uneventfully. Everyone is exhausted from a full day baking in the sun, most of all the two adults forced to keep a group of bored and under-supervised teens in check for four hours; half the bus is dozing, the other half whispering and laughing quietly, heads pressed close together in their seats. No one so much as spares them a glance. Alex closes his eyes and lets his music insulate him, shivering as the cool blast of the busâs air conditioning chills his damp skin. Guerinâs fingers on his hips ground Alex, and when they begin tapping in what he recognizes as the rhythm of the song blasting through his buds, he pulls one out of his ear, wipes it on his tee shirt, and passes it wordlessly back to Guerin, who takes it with a low murmur of thanks. Alex shifts on his lap, hoping to redistribute his weight so Guerinâs leg doesnât fall asleep, but he freezes when he presses inadvertently on the other boyâs very hard cock. Guerin groans quietly, fingers gripping Alexâs hips hard enough to bruise.
ââm sorry,â he grunts, shifting away quickly.
âI-is that cuz of me?â Alex asks softly. Heâs a teenage boy, too, he is not unfamiliar with inconvenient and completely unsolicited boners.
Guerin huffs a laugh.
âYeah, man,â he breathes. âThatâs all you.â
Alexâs eyes dart across the bus. The bench across the aisle is empty, a hand-written âDo not sitâ sign taped to the backrest, and pretty much everyone in their immediate vicinity is asleep, Kyle snuffling in a way Alex remembers finding endearing as a 13 year-old. He breathes deep, presses himself closer to Guerin, and snakes his right hand behind him to cup Guerin's bulge through his jeans.
"Fuck," Guerin moans, and Alex squeezes him in warning.
"Shhh," he whispers, turning his head briefly to breathe low into his ear. "Quiet, Guerin."
 The other boy settles, rolling his hips subtly into Alex's hand as he strokes Guerin's length and presses the heel of his palm roughly against the bite of his zipper. Guerin's forehead tips forward to rest against the back of Alex's neck, his breath hot on Alex's back. He slides his palms up and down the tops of Alex's thighs, slipping his fingers into a rip in the denim near Alex's knee to rub circles on his skin with the pads of his fingers.
"Don't stop," he pleads softly, and in response Alex works the button and zipper of his jeans open, wrapping his fingers around the silky, hot skin of his cock.
"Commando?" he huffs in surprise, voice rough with his own arousal, and he feels Guerin shrug helplessly.
Their bodies find a shared rhythm, Alexâs wrist pumping in time with the fluid roll of Guerinâs hips. It's quick and quiet and so insanely hot. Alex squeezes the head of Guerin's cock between his fingers, rolling it firmly in his palm and spreading the pre-cum leaking from the tip. Guerin gasps and scratches blunt nails up Alex's thighs, and Alex does it again, drunk on the heady power of being desired, of playing Guerin's body like an instrument he's mastered on instinct alone. Methodically he scans the bodies at rest around him, on guard for an intrusive eye; Guerin, meanwhile, is oblivious, soft whimpers escaping his lips and palms roaming Alex's chest and arms, fingers curling around his biceps as Alex works him steadily faster.
âAlex, Alex,â Guerin hisses, grip tightening on Alexâs arms, and Alex knows heâs close by the need in his voice, the squeeze of his hands, and the way his cock weeps, liquid tacky between Alexâs fingers.
 Beneath his haze of desire, Alex is suddenly hit with the very real logistical concerns of giving a hand job to completion in the back of a school bus, and he makes a split-second decision. He twists off Guerinâs lap to kneel in front of him, encouraging him to slide forward with strong hands on Guerin's hips, and takes him deep into his mouth all at once, curling his tongue around the shaft of Guerin's cock and sucking hard and fast. Guerin's fingers are in his hair, scratching and squeezing the back of his neck, and he manages to come silently in Alex's mouth, a choked off moan all that escapes his lips. The taste and feel of Guerin's cum in his mouth is an entirely new sensation, and Alex swallows with a giddy sense of pride, the salty aftertaste heavy on his tongue.
Guerin's insistent fingers under his chin guide his gaze upward, and Alex tilts his head back to smile at him, biting his lip at Guerin's dazed expression as Alex fastens the other boyâs jeans. His gaze flits past Guerin and out the rear windows of the bus, and Alexâs heart seizes when he sees the âThanks for visiting Roswell!â sign in the distance. Theyâre ten minutes from the school. He panics, using Guerinâs thighs for leverage as his pushes himself to his feet and flings himself across the aisle, perching on the end of the âDo Not Sitâ bench. He glances over to Guerin, who looks at him with wide, pleading eyes, gaze traveling pointedly down to where Alex is still hard in his jeans. He licks his lips, eyes stuck on the outline of Alexâs cock against his thigh. Alex shakes his head, grabbing his backpack from the floor and dropping it on top of his lap. Guerin whines.
âAll right, people,â their instructor calls, and Guerin jumps in surprise. âWeâre unloading at the back of the school. If your parents are picking you upâŚâ
Alex lets the bustle of students waking, calling out to friends, and collecting their belongings drown out the teacherâs droning. He dips in and out of different conversations, listening for a hint that they were overheard or even suspected. But most of his classmates are chatting about after-school and weekend plans, the football guys ribbing Kyle about having dinner with Lizâs dad on Friday. Alex lets out a breath, shoulders relaxing, and turns to find Guerin staring at him, a small, private smile on his lips.
âCan I help you?â Alex asks, his voice light with amusement.
âI think you just did,â Guerin murmurs, and Alex grins wickedly. âWhat are you doing after this?â
âI have a shift at the museum.â
Guerinâs face falls.
âYou know,â Alex offers, âitâs pretty slow on weekdays. Especially outside of tourist season. Practically no oneâs around.â
âReally?â Guerin drawls. âCuz Iâve always wanted to visit the museum.â
âYou should stop by,â Alex says, biting his lip to suppress a giddy grin. âYou know, while there arenât any crowds.â
âYeah, think I will,â Guerin replies. âI donât really like people.â
Alex grins.
âI noticed,â he deadpans. âI donât, either.âÂ
âJust a few,â Guerin adds softly.
âYeah,â Alex agrees. âOne or two.â
#meet ugly prompts#malex#malex fic#alex manes#michael guerin#anon#thank you all for your prompts and for reading!#I'm so happy I can make you happy!
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Matt Giguereâs Top 25 DS Games
Itâs strange to think Nintendo, once again, had to prove themselves in the handheld space after the Game Boy and Game Boy Advance handily served every bit of competition it faced. Yet in 2004, the Nintendo DS faced an uphill battle to show that having the best and fastest hardware wouldnât necessarily result in the best sales. 16 years and 154 million units later, the legacy of the DS is strong, evident in the deluge of smartphone and mobile games that rely on a touch interface. Itâs a shame Nintendo and other publishers are not being better stewards to their catalogues of games as there are still many that are only playable on the original hardware, and few seem to make the jump to the current set of consoles and computers. Still, it is easy to find an original DS that works and there are still plenty of cheap titles to pick up. Hereâs a selection of my favorite games to hit the handheld.
1. Meteos
Can a puzzle game top Tetris? Â Honestly, thanks to the minds of Tetsuya Mizuguchi and Masahiro Sakurai, Meteos manages to blast past the mesosphere and comes the closest to a space rendezvous with the original falling brick puzzler. What makes it fun to play? While it can get rather hectic and fast paced, the touch screen makes matching three or more pieces a cinch. Blasting off these little âmeteosâ using rocket propulsion and fighting against the forces of gravity creates a very addictive hook with some variety that keeps it from being stale. It is a simple and effective puzzle game that showcases why a touch-based interface can work for some games better than what button presses can do. Add in easy to use single cart multiplayer and the single-player Star Trip mode to keep you sharp, and you have a puzzle game for the ages. Â
2. Elite Beat Agents
Imagine being stuck in an impossible situation, like having to face down a runaway golem, or sneak into a corporate office using your ninja powers? Who do you call to help in this situation? This is a job for the Elite Beat Agents: A government agency that cheers you on to the grooves of radio hits from the â70s to the â00s. The idea of playing a rhythm game where you have to tap and slide didnât sit well with my snobbish DDR and Guitar Hero ways. Why tap a screen when I can âdanceâ and ârock out?â Little did I know this was just as valid a way to feel the music and beat out a jam, and soon after I was feeling the hand cramps of too much furious tapping while I carefully made sure I didn't âOuendanâ the bottom screen. Thereâs a very strange energy to this game that permeates from the different scenarios to the beat of the soundtrack. I might not dig every song served in the playlist, but I canât help but try and top my score on Sk8er Boi for the 100th time! With all the trouble in the world, maybe we need more games (and people) like EBA these days.
3. Advance Wars: Dual Strike
Oh Advance Wars, your time was too short over here. But hey! At least we were given a great first outing on the DS, and all these years later, it is still a blast to play. Using the second screen to quickly glance at unit and area information is a welcomed addition, but Second Front battles add a new dimension to the core strategy game that really sells the top screen. Throw in all the CO Tag Powers and a map editor built for a touch interface, and itâs hard to see how anything can top this release of Advance Wars. But seriously Intelligent Systems and Nintendo, please give the franchise one more shot! Â
4. Tetris DS
Yeah, it's Tetris. But also, itâs Tetris! Maybe it is one of those âskips a generationâ thing, as you can kind of plot the best versions of portable Tetris are on the GameBoy, the DS, and the Switch. Tetris DS may be sacrilegious to some with its hold options and infinity spin technique, but this is what I think makes this version unique beyond the various modes and dual screen support. To me it creates a faster version of Tetris that is easy to get into, but can be a fun challenge to master. The addition of Nintendo-themed boards to go with the different modes of play not seen in other versions also adds to this unique addition to the Tetris line. Looking for a version of Tetris with more to do than just the base game? Tetris DS has the most to offer. Â
5. Grand Theft Auto: Chinatown Wars
This game should have been a hit. Maybe the marketing hyped this game up too much? Maybe more people were spoiled by the full 3D realization of the GTA formula with GTA 3? Maybe the music wasnât the same without the radio hits? Maybe if the synthwave revival had hit the scene sooner it wouldâve helped? Whatever the case, this is a gem of a GTA game. While it misses out on the full production of the home console and PSP âStoriesâ line (I think full voice acting would have helped this version of the game immensely,) just about every aspect of the big brother version is here in this miniature version of Liberty City. From hijacking cars to outrunning the fuzz, this top-down 3D GTA gives a full helping of the open world mayhem the series is known for. The bottom screen minigames can get a touch annoying, but they hardly get in the way like many other games on the DS. Rounding out this game is the drug peddling economy minigame. Not only does it fit the setting and overall style of the game, but  it enables a great opportunity for emergent gameplay to unfold with big risks and big gains. It baffles me* how Rockstar wonât develop this further in their gamesâ single player campaigns. Check it out, as itâs still rather cheap on the DS and is also available on the PSP and most modern mobile devices. *Iâm clearly ignoring the real money cash flow of online microtransactions. 6. Kirby: Canvas Curse
7. Castlevania: Portrait of Ruin
8. Mario Kart DS
9. Looney Tunes: Duck Amuck
10. Castlevania: Order of Ecclesia
11. WarioWare Touched!
12. Star Fox Command
13. Mario and Luigi: Bowserâs Inside Story
14. 999: Nine Hours, Nine Persons, Nine Doors
15. Final Fantasy IV
16. Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney
17. Brain Age: Train Your Brain in Minutes a Day!
18. The World Ends with You
19. Professor Layton and the Curious Village
20. Mega Man XZ
21. Pokemon Black/White
22. Photo Dojo
23. Style Savvy
24. New Super Mario Bros
25. The Legend of Zelda: The Phantom Hourglass
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CONGRATS ON 100 MAE!!! i love your writing, so can i get a 𼰠for kitty?
THANK YOU SO MUCH OMGGG!! <333 Â this is way longer than i meant it to be but i had so much to say hahhaha
~~~~~
I shouldn't have come.
It was Kitâs first thought as soon as he stepped through the portal.Â
Holy shit, its hot. That was the second.
Despite growing up in LA, the three years heâd spent in the English rain had clearly changed his bodyâs temperature regulations. He was used to all encompassing grey dampness - seriously, how can one country have four seasons but theyâre all just different variations of rain? - and the scorching sun hurt his eyes and made him sweat uncomfortably.Â
He took a deep breath, remembered all the advice about âjust being himselfâ that his dad had given him, and made his way up the path.
Inside the LA Institute was much the same hustle and bustle as before. It was like stepping into one of his dreams. Kit was greeted with a whirlwind of kind words and hugs, swiftly chased into the kitchen and handed a steaming cup of tea - âbecause, you know, you're English now!â Dru smiled brightly - and a chocolate chip cookie. Everybody was asking how he was, what heâd been up to, how were Mina, and Jem, and Tessa, how was his training going. Emma was particularly interested in the answer to that last question, and pulled him aside later to suggest training together so she could give him all kinds of tips and tricks. He realised, with a jolt, that he was slightly taller than her now.Â
The only person who didnât greet him was Ty.
As he absentmindedly answered everybodyâs questions, he glanced around the kitchen anxiously. Ty was the reason he was here. Maybe not officially, and maybe it wasn't something Kit wanted to tell everyone, but it was the truth regardless. After everyone was finished, and people began to wander away to get back to their day, Kit pulled Julian aside.
âHey, do you... uhm...,â He ran a worried hand through his hair. âHave you seen Ty?â
Julian gave him a sad sort of half smile. âI think he went down the beach.â
-----------Â
The water was even bluer than he remembered, and the sand was warm between his toes. He made his way along the beach, trainers and t-shirt in hand. It was too hot for either of them. He was glamoured, so he wasn't worried about mundanes seeing the Marks that now twined their way along his strong arms and chiseled stomach. Sometimes, he had to do a double take when he looked in the mirror because he still didnât recognise himself, even now. He still thought of himself as the scrawny, lanky, awkward-looking boy of years past.
He kept scanning the beach over and over again, looking for any sign of Ty. There were none.
He kept walking.
He kept walking until he recognised the cave that Ty and he had met with Shade - well, Ragnor Fell - in and a sudden pang shot through his heart at the memory. He walked in slowly, automatically reaching for the witchlight Ty had given him, when he realised he didnât need it. The cave was already lit.
Kit froze in the small, corridor like hollow at the front of the cave. He stared, wide eyed, at various candles that were littered around the room, the books that were stacked neatly in the corner, and the small, wooden table and camping chair that sat in its centre. But mostly, he stared at the figure sitting at the table. Beautiful. His head was bent over a small gaming console, the Herondale necklace hanging next to Livvyâs locket at his throat, long fingers moving rapidly, black hair curtaining his face, headphones over his ears. Kit blinked, sure he was seeing things, but no.
Heâd found Ty.Â
He drank in the image of him in the dim light. He was taller now, his legs longer, but he had the same slender build. Kit saw the small muscles rippling in his arms under the grey t-shirt he was wearing as his fingers worked. He nearly collapsed. It had been so long, so long since he'd held him on the roof of the London Institute, so long since heâd told him that he loved him, so long since heâd watched him from afar on the beach for the final time, and yet he still felt his heart rate increase and he still wanted to run his hands through the muddle of black hair on his head and he still wanted to part his lips with his own. He still felt the same.
Ty must have sensed the fact he was being watched then, because he turned his head and looked at Kit. His grey eyes, shining like two silver rings in the candlelight, widened in surprise and he stopped playing his game. He was staring at Kitâs chest.Â
Kit was suddenly acutely aware of the fact he didnât have a top on. He felt himself flush.
Ty pulled his headphones off, putting them around his neck. The inside of Kitâs wrist throbbed at the sight.
The silence was deafening. They were both just staring; Kit at Tyâs earphones, Ty at Kitâs chest.Â
Finally, after what was probably seconds but felt like hours, Kit had to say something.
âUhm.... hey.â He gave a small, awkward wave. Smooth, dumbass.Â
Ty flicked his eyes away and stared fixedly at the cave wall directly ahead of him. His mouth was in a hard line, and his right hand was tapping out a fast rhythm on the arm of his chair. Kit swallowed hard.Â
âWhy did you leave me?â Ty said, his voice barely above a whisper
Kit felt his heart break in two, right then and there. Tears welled up in his eyes. It took everything in him not to go over and put his arms around Ty, but he knew he wouldn't want that. He dropped to his knees instead, bending his head so his blonde hair would hide his face.
âBecause,â his ragged voice caught in his throat. âBecause I loved you. Because I still love you, even now. Because you're the most beautiful boy Iâve ever seen. Because I want to be near you all the time.â Every thought, every word, heâd been holding in for three years seemed to be tumbling out. He didnât stop them. âBecause you make me laugh. Because I want to be there for you. Because i dream about you. Because i need you.â He put his head in his hands as a sobbed racked his body. He could feel Ty looking at him.
âYou left because you love me?â The confusion was clear in Tyâs voice.
Kit took a deep, shaky breath. âYes. But I mainly left because you donât love me.â It was not accusatory: his voice was hollow and tinny in his own ears.Â
âBut Kit, I do love you.â
Kit snapped his head up.Â
âWhat?âÂ
âI do love you.â Ty got up, placed his console on the table and came to sit cross legged in front of Kit, looking directly into his eyes. âWhy do you think Iâm in this cave? Why do you think Iâm wearing this necklace?â He pointed at the Heron. Kit shrugged. âIâm here because this is a place we were together. I come here when i want to be with you. And I wear this because itâs the closest thing I have to being yours. It makes me feel closer to you.â Ty looked down at his hands then, and even in the dim light, Kit could see he was blushing.Â
âBut... but....â It was Kitâs turn to be confused now. âWhy didnât you come to see me today? I had to come and find you. You werenât there.â He was aware he sounded like a whining child, but he couldn't help it.
"Iâm sorry. I just didnât know what to say, and i didnât know want to say anything in front of the others, and i thought you might...â His voice wavered. âI thought you hated me.â
âOh, Ty,â Kit reached out for his hand, instinctively, and Ty let him take it. âI could never hate you, not ever.âÂ
Kit turned his own wrist over to show the small outline of Tyâs headphones he had tattooed there. Ty traced it with his finger wonderingly. His touch sent chills all the way through Kitâs body.Â
âI have spent the last three years waking up every morning and loving you even more than i did the day before, even when i didnât think that was possible.â Kitâs voice was low and steady. Ty laced their fingers together. âI have spent the last three years dreaming about you, and crying when i realise you're not there.â Kit leaned forward, putting his face level with Tyâs. âI have spent the last three years running away from the best person iâve ever met,â he dropped his voice to a low whisper. âBut i donât I donât want to run anymore.â
And then his lips were on Tyâs, and everything in the world made sense.
#kitty#mae 100#kitty fanfiction#the dark artifices#tda#kit herondale#ty blackthorn#dru blackthorn#julian blackthorn#emma carstairs#tsc#the shadowhunters chronicles#shadowhunters#tessa gray#jem carstairs#mina carstairs#tsc fanfiction
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Straw Hat Pirates Rap Cypher by Rustage
Never really seen One Piece, but this alone kinda makes me want to dive in.
Lyrics under the cut
Monkey D. Luffy (Performed by Rustage)
Straight out the
East Blue, call me Luffy, Iâm a beast too
Anybody you speak to will tell you what Iâve been through
Iâm as fast as a pistol, blastin you suckers
I reckon that now Iâm steppin up, gettin rough gear second
Iâm the captain
Activating Haki, Iâm cracking knuckles, attacking so buckle up if youâre lacking
Watch my bounty as itâs racking up
You ainât ever stacking up
I will fucking end you if you ever hurt my Nakama
It doesnât matter if youâre navy,
youâre crazy to face me
The aura of a conqueror, even Kaido is shaky
Iâm breaking in
cause Iâm made to win
I may be rubber, but youâll need protection from this pirate king
Roronoa Zoro (Performed by None Like Joshua)
Yo itâs Roronoa Zoro, yeah my swords overkill
With a blade in my mouth, so my word flow spills
more blood from a pirate, marine, or fishman with gills
Iâll cut your verse in half
Mihawk givin me the skills
Scars all on my body?
But Iâll leave one on your brain
Just ask Kuma when I took in all of Luffyâs pain
I donât need a Devil Fruit if you want to see my strength
Hard work, yeah I trained to take Pica to the grave
Slicing back and forth
you know I got a stick for playing Haki
with my Wado Ichimonji
While Sanji sponsored by Nike
Lost my left eye from the waterfalls I chased, but you forgot me?
Iâm the greatest swordsman
even after my days Iâll be there on top
while I sleep
Nami (Performed by Savvy Hyuga)
Third memeber of the Straw Hats, but call me Nami
Luffy set me free now Iâm navigating him to the One Piece
No need to judge me, itâs just a little pickpocketing
But let me give you a lesson here on some chemistry
Usinâ gusts to make you fall back
Do you want a taste of my staff before you see the lightning flash
nâ hear the thunder crash from my climatact
leave you shakinâ from my thunder lance, can you dodge a weather based attack?
Go ahead and come at me, Iâll watch you pass through
Tell me which tempo that you want me to use
So many combinations, I donât know which one to choose
Letâs get this over with so I can collect all your revenue
Usopp (Performed by Nux Taku)
Now youâre messing with a veteran
Iâm better than anybody
I got an army, crushing all your skeletons
I head up into battle, leave you rattled with my squad
Pray to me, a deity, a sniper
God (Ay)
Iâm a sharpshooter so I canât miss (Ay)
Over longer distance with advantage (Ay)
Got the craftsmanship that is demanded (Woo!)
Your small IQ wonât even understand it
They say Iâm lying, but honestly itâs all trickery
Literally, Iâm just carrying this crew with my abilities
Hitting me? Itâs unlikely.
Come on try to fight me
May have had my issues but Iâve put all that behind me
Sanji (Performed by Eddie Rath)
It all started on a ship in the North Blue
A protĂŠgĂŠ to the Zeff, what a cool dude
Cut off his leg tryna save and preserve food
Suddenly now you got a friend to preserve you
We all tried to survive from the violence
as we march in an army of pirates
The ocean is a grave full of silence
Enemies wonder, where the time went
I remember I was nothing but a thin joke
My calves on fire, get your face broke
As you sleeping the chef will remain woke
They want beef but they donât want the Vinsmoke
Tony Tony Chopper (Performed by GameboyJones)
Everybody get to the Chopper
If you got a bounty on your head, Imma pop ya
Girlies think Iâm cute
âBout to make it reindeer
All about the money, so the enemies should stay clear
Now I joined in with this great little group of pirates
Donât mess with the squad or we will get violent
Isnât it ironic I bring pain as the doctor
I could save your life when I drop ya
Now, watch your tone with Tony
or Iâll fold you phonies
Every lineâs ginuwine like I rode the pony
and you acting folly
when you saying we donât run streets
Straw Hat crew and we coming for that One Piece
Nico Robin (Performed by DaisyBanaisy)
Last survivor of my home town
Persecuted for my knowledge
so Iâm on my own now
We about to go down,
chilling with tea or we get wild
The name is Nico Robin and I am the Devil Child
Crew archaeologist, information Iâm logging it
I got in with the Straw Hats, now Iâm reading Poneglyphs
Havenât you forgotten this girl is straight power
See my hands sprouting and blossom like a flower
Intelligence is unmatched
Show me where the funâs at
Coming in clutch with these hands growing out ya back
Enies Lobby finding out I have more to give
My crew by my side, so you know that I want to live!
Franky (Performed by Dreaded Yasuke)
Here comes the tank worth 94 bills
Can adapt to any environment like Bear Grylls
Biased when it comes to the Straw Hats, they can chill
Applying a pressure on your endeavors whenever it gets real
Thatâs the best that you got, probably need to drop
Modifications from my cannon take off a mountain top
My Franky Radical Beam shooting just like a stream,
whizzing right by your head to mess with your self-esteem
Better start counting your bread when you see my team,
accumulating lot of cred gonna need the marines
If you ainât got the berries get off the Thousand Sunny,
playing like itâs imaginary and get the real Cutty
Brook (Performed by Connor Rapper)
The musician of the Straw Hats
Munificent? Of course, thatâs a given
My dynamic riffs are gift-wrapped in ribbon
Every hit exact and honed, like my slashes and my blows
Every note composed appropriately, rhythmâs in my bones
The devil in I is why I never did die
I was revived with twice the undeniable splendour
If stealing the show was seen as a crime then Iâm a prime offender
My attacks are so precise although I lack sight receptors
Picked off one by one when I strum with a boney thumb
those opponents with loaded guns are too slow for my frozen lunge
On that boat got pretty lonely wrote odes to my blubbery chum
Though the ocean temp was low I felt so comfortably numb
Jinbei (Performed by DizzyEight)
Itâs Jinbei the sensei with my fist Iâm ruthless
One swing will leave you stretched out like youâre Luffy,
thatâs one piece, but you can get two if you donât want peace
Iâm a fish man, but itâs my hook that make em sleep
You donât wanna spar, you donât want the fade
He claim he got heart so I double tap his face
If I gotta go to war I just do it for a change
I live the way Iâm living for my brother in the grave
Itâs the Straw Hats, I roll with a clique full of warriors
This is not a game, we are not the ones to toy with
All about peace, but if you push us we destroy ya
Big man, but the move smooth like the water
#One Piece#Monkey D. Luffy#Rap#Rustage#Roronoa Zoro#None Like Joshua#Straw Hat Pirates#Nami#Savvy Hyuga#Usopp#Nux Taku#Sanji#Dreaded Yasuke#Tony Tony Chopper#GameboyJones#Nico Robin#Daisybanaisy#Franky#Cutty Flam#Eddie Rath#Brook#Connor Rapper#Jinbei#DizzyEight
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Sundays Are the Best
Fandom: RWBY
Characters: Pyrrha Nikos, Reader
Words: 2,330
Commissioned by: lugnut420
Content warnings: Love, shameless indulgence,
You were always looking forward to Sundays. Some people looked forward to Fridays for the end of the work week, some towards Saturdays for their first real day off, and even a few who loved their jobs and were excited for Mondays to roll back around.
Really, you were just happy for Sundays because it's the only day of the week where both you and Pyrrha have the day off and could just cuddle in bed. You enjoyed the sensation of her soft, warm body pressed against yours, your arms wrapped around her and the flat, toned muscles of her stomach and brushing gently against the underside of her breasts with every shift the two of you make.
Waking up is always a treat, your nose buried in the nape of her neck, smelling her earthy shampoo and pressing the occasional soft kiss against the line where her crimson hair meets the delicious skin of her neck.
"Hmmm, somebody's attentive this morning," Pyrrha murmurs sleepily, a loving lilt in her tone as she pulls one of your hands up and lays a kiss of her own against your palm.
"For you, always," you mumble against her warm skin. You press another sleepy kiss into her hairline, knowing from intimate experience that that was one of her several sweet spots that get her all worked up.
"You keep that up, and one of us is gonna be late for work," Pyrrha comments, reaching behind her, not to push you away but to confirm that she wasn't the only one getting excited from all this attention.
The corners of your mouth turn down at that. "Babe, it's Sunday." You feel her pause for a moment before her response of her knowing that and she was just testing you has you chuckling. "Of course, of course. So what do I win as a prize then?"
She pushes herself against you fully, her ass pressed firmly against your dick, those tight buns rubbing against your hardening shaft. "How about a fun hour in bed before we make breakfast?" your beautiful lover offers playfully as she moves your hand in her grasp down to her bountiful chest.
"What a lovely prize," you agree, placing extra emphasis on compliment, enjoying the way her nipple stiffens under touch. You palm her tit and bounce it a few times, your other hand ghosting down her stomach, over her hip, and finally delving into the junction between her thighs to play with her pearl and those lips that are slowly growing sodden.
Pyrrha's hips buck into your touch, her legs entwining with yours as you bring her to greater heights of pleasure. A low moan tumbles from her mouth as you play with her body, wanting to hear more of that wonderful noise as she breathily whispers your name in a husky voice. Between your playing with her breasts, your fingers pinching and lightly tweaking those stiff nubs adorning her large soft chest, and your
Her hips give a final jerk as she reaches her peak, her pussy gripping at your invading, questing digits as you stroke her inner walls. The invincible girl's (your invincible girl at that) holding onto your arms as she shudders in your embrace. However, all good things must pass, and though you would love Pyrrha to constantly experience an orgasm, she eventually comes down. She turns and repositions herself so that she's facing you, a loving expression on her face as she pulls you closer, your lips meeting hers in a wordless gesture of passion.
Things get more heated, and as the kiss deepens, your lover pushes herself up to rest on top of you, her amazing breasts pressed into your chest, those stiff points almost digging into you. You respond to her new position by latching one hand onto her tight butt and resting the other on the small of her back. She seems to have other plans however as breaks off the kiss briefly to wiggle, her waist grinding against your erection.
Pyrrha's eyes have a smoky glint in them as she pushes you back down with one strong arm as you try to recapture her mouth, her lips laying a trail of gentle kisses down past your jawline, your collarbone, your chest, your stomach, and then finally your waist. She pulls back, tucking a lock of her fiery hair behind one ear as she grips your turgid length, licks her lips, and plants a wet kiss squarely against the base of your shaft.
She holds that kiss there, her visible emerald eye never once leaving yours as your cock rests hotly against her face, until her lips part and her tongue sneaks out quickly to lap at your sack. You give a soft groan as that velvety organ gives a few gentle lashes against the large hefty orbs, Pyrrha being careful to be gentle down there. Even as she lavishes your testes, her hands aren't idle. One petite hand is resting on your stomach, her palms lightly caressing your abdomen, while the other is wrapped around you, lightly slapping her face with your burning flesh.
After a few more smacks, she disengages from your sack, leaning up as she dips a single finger into the precum drooling from your now fully erect shaft. You gulp at the sight of this wonderful woman as gazes at your cock with a lusty look on her face, now adorned with a small smattering of your clear sticky fluid, and, finally, she takes your breath away as your tip vanishes into her hot, wet mouth, her tongue swiping at your head roughly in an attempt to collect all your precum. It's a game between the two of you now, a competition to see who loses control first and give into temptation.
Pyrrha lives up to her reputation as always as your already fraying discipline snaps.
Before you can even realize it, your hand is on the back of her head and pushing, your hips rising to meet that gorgeous face, and you could swear that her eyes are twinkling as she looks up at you, her lips firmly wrapped around the base of your dick. Every inch has been forced into her mouth, and while you're not as big as some of the porn stars you've seen online, a few of your past partners have had difficulty taking you.
Pyrrha, like a true champ, is smiling as best she can around your cock and gives you a teasing suck.
Your fingers curl into and grip into the long locks of her hair as this amazing woman nuzzles her nose into your pubic hair before you pull her up. Pyrrha is a strong woman, and you know that she can kick your ass any day of the week; however, in the bedroom, she is more than happy to let you lead and take charge... most of the time anyways. When she explained to you that she loved the idea of deepthroating you and letting you take control, you were more than happy to help her practice, practice which is now paying off in spades as you push her back down to the root without any difficulty.
You hold her there for a several second, enjoying the way her tongue bathes your cock, before you feel two of her fingers tap against your thigh. You let her come up for just a second to let her catch a few quick breaths, just high enough to breathe through her nose but not enough for you to slip out of her mouth, before you push her back down. After a few moments, she looks back up to you, her eyes a little misty but full of love, and gives you a thumbs up.
Her signal for you to go wild.
Pyrrha's tongue doesn't ever stop as you pull her head up and down relentlessly, those pink lips wrapped around your cock so deliciously. She doesn't gag once, the reflex long since trained out of her by her own volition, the many vivid memories of walking into your home with her practicing with some toys helping you further along. She's skilled enough that on your wilder pulls up, she's able to take a breath and hold it until the next opportunity. While several inches of flesh are the only that push past her lips, words of encouragement and sweet nothings come from yours.
It's only a matter of minutes of this intense treatment that causes you to finally reach your own orgasm, you grunting out a warning to Pyrrha. It honestly feels like her lips are glued to the base of your dick as you push her down as far as possible, her eyes closed and her mouth almost like a vacuum as she sucks at you. The sounds of loud groaning fill the air as you explode down her throat before she pulls back halfway through, her eyelids fluttering open as you finish off in her mouth, several powerful ropes of semen splashing against her tongue.
When you finally finish, she's still sucking, pulling away until only the very tip of your penis is in her mouth. With a small pop, lovely Pyrrha finally pulls away, making sure that your attention is solely on her. When you recover and the multi-colored stars fade from your sight, she gives you a cheeky grin and opens her mouth, showing you the large milky white load in her mouth. Pyrrha closes her mouth, and you can see the sleek muscles of her neck shift before she opens it back up, her mouthful of cum gone.
If you were starting to flag before, that intensely erotic sight instantly cured that.
It's a bit of a blur afterwards, but when you regain control of yourself, you're still on your back. Gazing down at you is Pyrrha as she reaches down and grips you, adjusting you for a brief moment before she descends on your length almost achingly slowly.
Her walls are slick with her own juices, each fold of her pussy clinging to you tightly like you were made for each other, and even after all the sex you two have had, she still bites her lower lip and slumps forward like it's her first time with you. Not that you're complaining, especially since it lets you lean up and finally capture one of her gorgeous pink nipples between your lips.
After a moment, the two of you find your rhythm, her bouncing in your lap as you smoothly thrust up into her tightness with her making the odd squeak and moan as you graze against of her sensitive spots just right. You yourself let out a moan of your own as she squeezes down you extra tight, her bountiful chest bouncing free as you two pick up the pace.
Soon, Pyrrha is rocking her hips as fast as she can, an intense blush on her face as the rapturous pleasure catches up to her. It's all you can do to match her pace, but eventually, she loses control, the loudest moan she's had yet spilling out from her as she plants herself down, her firm ass shivering against your thighs. You can see, and feel, a sudden flood of liquid seep from between her thighs and soak into the sheets underneath you two. You feel pride in your ability to make your amazing partner cum.
However, you have yet to reach that peak with her.
You take advantage of Pyrrha's inability to fight back while she's cumming in your lap, making her squeal and shudder as you shift her around on your bed, your rock hard cock never once leaving its comfy spot inside of her. It's pretty much the same position you two were just in, the only difference now being that the sleek back of your lover and her ponytail takes up most of your vision. Your arms have pulled her knees up so that they're almost pressed against her shoulders, and her arms are grasping onto your own as you thrust up into.
It's evident that Pyrrha is pretty much helpless in this position as she starts to call, saying "W-Wait, hang o-oooooaaahhhh," her plea for you to give her a moment to get a hold of herself and lower her sensitivity quickly devolving into a drawn out moan as you piston up into her.
You force your arms up a little higher, pulling her legs a little higher into the air and against her shoulders, and connect your arms up behind the back of her head. It lets you thrust that much harder and quicker up into her, your world narrowing down from the bedroom down to the amazing girl in your arms and her burning wet hole that envelops you in return.
Finally, release comes to you, and you thrust up into her a few final times, coming to a dead stop as cum blasts up against her innermost parts, the combination of how you're treating her and her heightened sensitivity bringing her to a final orgasm as well. With a shrill yell, Pyrrha announces her orgasm and falls limp as you feel like you've just lost all your strength, the legs you've been holding up falling and bouncing back onto the mattress now that there's nothing keeping them up.
After some time to catch your breath, you shift Pyrrha so that she's resting next to you nestled against your side instead of uncomfortably on your chest. You gently cup her cheek as you look at the blissed out expression on her face, half lidded eyes and an almost goofy smile on her face. You've learned your lesson on calling it that out loud however; even if Pyrrha's look of embarrassed shock was adorable, her not holding back on your joint workouts was decidedly not.
It bears reaffirming to yourself as you gaze down lovingly at the best thing to ever happen to you.
Sundays are the best.
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downtime at dead dawg
zarina kassir/caleb quinn | the deathslinger; just some feel-good friend shit w/ maybe flirting; alc tw; 1825 words
a/n: iâve had this one sitting in the drafts for about a week, after i impulse bought zarina and having been playing her nonstop. they... are cute. iâve also been doing really bad mentally so this fic was honestly mostly for me because i just want some... happy, feel-good content where people are friends for once. also, fun game to play; try and guess all the characters i vaguely mentioned. i wanna see how obvious i was.
i might add another few chapters to this?? i have ideas at the very least. iâd love it if u guys let me know if you wanna see that. hope youâre all doing well, and stay safe yâall.
likes < reblogs, any comments in the tags are appreciated
ao3 mirror in the reblogs!
Preview: âYou want a drink, cowboy?â The voice beside him almost startled him, making him jump to look down at the woman in the brown woollen scarf, holding two glasses of whiskey. She held one out to him, and he took it with a quiet thank you, more than expecting to resume people-watching alone and in silence, watching on as killer and survivor alike had raided his realm for a good time - a break from the killing and the madness, if only for a moment or two. But she didnât. Instead, she moved around him and took his side, resting her elbows on the balcony and joining him. She took a small sip from her glass. âYou know, itâs crazy. Soon youâre just going to go back to slaughtering us for fun.â âYou assume itâs fun.â He gruffly replied, glancing down at her to meet her eyes. âAre you implying itâs not?â Caleb paused for a moment, almost thinking it over, before he chuckled. â...Yeah, no, itâs real fun.â âYeah, I thought so.â
It was louder in here than it had been in a long time. He wasnât sure if he liked it or not.
 The piano wasnât being played by ghosts this time. Among the white noise of idle chatter from the saloon floor down below him was the tickling of ivories at a fast pace, courtesy of that Macmillan guy, mask pulled up now as he ran his hand up and down the stained keys with precision, though a bit rusty at times - a well-trained pianist, in whatever past he had. That athletic survivor with the ginger braids stuck close by, clapping along to the rhythm with a smile on her face. There was another survivor on the other side of the killer, the bear on the back of her jersey clearly in view from the balcony as she tried to touch the bottom keys of the piano without getting her wrists slapped. They seemed happy enough.Â
 Others were scattered among the odd tables that littered the saloon floor, creating the blanket of white noise that overlaid the music. From one, he saw the snapping movements of the spectral ghostly girl as she sat beside two survivors, a kind man in a trenchcoat and the hardy looking girl with goggles, the two of them talking and occasionally giving the spectre a chance to input - she was laughing, a wide smile distorting her face, occasionally giving the man a soft and thankful glance when she was sure he was paying her no mind. From another, many people surrounded the tough-looking survivor with the undercut and the strong killer with the rabbit mask as they partook in a battle of brute strength - an arm-wrestling match, with support from both sides of the playing field, cheering them on and clapping in glee. At the bar sat a quiet group of four - older men, supposedly wiser, he would have thought, if not for the idiot wearing sunglasses indoors and the man with the metal hand, both clearly drinking more than they could handle. Even from the balcony, the apologetic glances exchanged between the older soldier and the detective were plain as day to see, their companions too delirious from alcohol to pay that much mind.
 âYou want a drink, cowboy?â
The voice beside him almost startled him, making him jump to look down at the woman in the brown woollen scarf, holding two glasses of whiskey. She held one out to him, and he took it with a quiet thank you, more than expecting to resume people-watching alone and in silence, watching on as killer and survivor alike had raided his realm for a good time - a break from the killing and the madness, if only for a moment or two.
But she didnât. Instead, she moved around him and took his side, resting her elbows on the balcony and joining him. She took a small sip from her glass. âYou know, itâs crazy. Soon youâre just going to go back to slaughtering us for fun.â
âYou assume itâs fun.â He gruffly replied, glancing down at her to meet her eyes.
âAre you implying itâs not?â
Caleb paused for a moment, almost thinking it over, before he chuckled. â...Yeah, no, itâs real fun.ââYeah, I thought so.â
âYeah, I thought so.â She returned the laugh in kind, though hers was a lot gentler than his - less rough, less biting. The killer turned his head to look down on her, at the expression on her face as she looked down to her friends and enemies below, a smile on her face. He followed her gaze down to the arm wrestling match, where the undercut survivor was shaking his hand and cursing to himself, his opponent stretching her strong arms above her head and placing a hand on her shoulder, where the infected priestess had placed her own hand in congratulations, whispering blessings in foreign tongues that Caleb didnât care to understand.Â
 The two remained silent and just watched the occurrences on the floor below. The idiot in sunglasses had climbed into the bar counter now, in the process of removing the tan suit jacket he wore with the encouragement of his fellow drunkard before being dragged off of the bar and outside by his sober, bearded compatriot. From underneath the balcony, the quiet boy almost always armed with a toolbox walked out, carrying a large pot of bubbling liquid and placing it on one of the empty tables, the leather-masked fellow and the hunched over swamp witch following behind him excitedly, ready to show off their cooking skills to the rest of the gathering.
 The company at the piano had grown now, Macmillan having moved to let someone else take a seat - one of the survivors, the bigger woman in the pinstripe suit, whose piano playing was delicate, light and slow, accompanied now by the sound of a guitar, as the tattooed blonde survivor sat on its lid and played along and gently plucked the instrument's strings, the third member of their little musical entourage being the sound of a haunting, tolling bell from the tree-like man in the torn cloak, his addition giving the piece a melancholy vibe. Sat on the other side of the piano lid was the floating nurse, and though no expression was visible on her face due to the bag covering her face, the way she relaxed told him she was enthralled with the performance.Â
 Caleb looked back down at the woman still by his side, her expression still soft as she looked among the crowd. As if knowing she was being watched, she looked up again, not fearing to stare directly into his eyes as she did.Â
âYou know⌠we donât even know your names. You donât know ours. Isnât that crazy?â
He paused, raising an eyebrow. âWhy would it? Attachment ân that. Makes shit harder.â
âLike you would have sympathy.â
âSome of us have a heart, maâam.â
She paused. â...Deep down, somewhere. I suppose youâre right. Though, itâs not entirely true. I know who you are. By chance. Maybe thatâs whyâŚâ
He watched as her hand fell to the flashing device on her belt, a subtle red light blinking on and off. â...Huh. Nosey, aintâcha?â
âIt gets me ahead in my line of work, Mr. Quinn.â She looked up as he flinched with a smirk, clearly not bluffing now, before her eyes fell back onto the crowd.
 Following her gaze again, which was once again placed on the arm-wrestling pair, Caleb heard her chuckle, moving her arms again to hang over the balcony in a delicate criss-cross. âOh, Davidâs at it again.â
David. Must be the idiot with too little hair. Caleb looked down at him as he pressed his elbow against the table, and flexed his fingers with a pained grin, ready for another round. â...Hardy one, ainât he?â
âIâd call it stupid. Only Nea would encourage his behaviour, and there she is.â
Sure enough, by the manâs side was the girl in the beanie, almost shouting in his ear as both beratement and encouragement - he swore he could almost see the sweat on Davidâs brow as she continued on. He hummed, his loose jaw cracking slightly before he snapped it back into place.
âAnd isnât Janeâs music lovely?â She continued, a free and open hand signalling back to the piano. âI never expected her to be a pianist, and yet, the way she makes music with Kate is stunning.â
â...Sounds nice.âÂ
âKate normally plays for us all, for a morale boost, itâs lovely. ...Ah, and look at that. The Spirit is a little less terrifying-looking like that. I never considered Adam to be the comedian type, heâs much too serious for that, and yet...â A pointed finger lead to the table of three again, where the spectral girl still giggled, her nose shrivelling up and as she tapped out her hand in defeat, the girl in goggles laughing along with her nose pinched between her fingers, a free hand nursing a glass.
 Caleb hummed again in acknowledgement, looking down at the scarved woman again, and her soft features, before nudging her softly with an elbow. âYouâre not slick, ya know, missy. Tryna teach me somethinâ new anâ all. Think thatâs gonna save ya?â
âHa, guess not. Just thought Iâd give it a shot.â She shrugged, twirling some hair between her fingers as, again, she stared him in the face, with no fear, and even a soft smile on her face. âAnd my name is Zarina. In case you wanted to know.â
He looked away, back down below - there was a commotion with the dinner plans, it seemed. He didnât care to get involved. âWell, I didnât.â
âWell, too bad.â Zarina almost mocked him with her tone, before she took a drink, finishing off the last of her glass as she tipped her head back, and wiping her mouth with the back of her arm in some mock-macho movement.
 There was a beat of silence. â...Sâa pretty name, regardless.â
âHuh?â
âYou heard me.â Dark eyes looked down at her again, and with another gentle snap of his jaw, Caleb gave her a lopsided grin, to which she gave him a half-hearted shove.
âNow whoâs trying to get some sympathy points, huh?â
âHey, just tellinâ the lady what she already knows.â
The odd pair shared a laugh, before the cowboy too finished off his drink in a movement similar to hers before, then holding out his free hand to take her empty glass. âOne more, for the road?â
Zarina looked down at his hand, palm dried and scarred from years of working with his gun, before she placed the bottom of her glass into it. âIf you enjoy my company, you can just say so, cowboy.â
âHa. Keep dreaminâ, Princess.â Heavy boots creaked against the wood of the balcony, as he descended down the stairs to the bar.Â
 The night carried on, many survivors and killer alike finding it hard to stand after indulging in the rare pleasure that was alcohol in this realm. The darkness grew darker before everyone returned to their own dwellings until the trial resumed.Â
Boots on the counter of the bar, Caleb poured himself one final drink, listening to the last of the footsteps behind him. ââNight, Zarina.â
She looked behind her, finding his eyes on her as she hauled the arm of a barely conscious Dwight over her shoulder, hoping to help their leader back to the campfire in one piece. A small smile fell on her features. â...Goodnight, Caleb.â
He suppressed the small inhale and choke of his drink as she said his name again, for the second time that night, listening to the sound of her footsteps and mumbles back and forth with the messy spectacled boy grew quieter and quieter, leaving him alone again, with the creaking of floorboards and the ghosts on the piano, until the next time he was called to service here again, gun in hand.Â
#dead by daylight#the deathslinger#zarina kassir#i dont know the shipname but boy i wish i did#prove thyself#off the record
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Kickstart My Heart
Hi! Iâm back with another little drabble! Credit to fi who tweeted something about parent rights and then directed me to a tweet about a child kicking the back of Phil's seat and him just being sympathetic on the parent's behalf. this kind of spiraled out of my control (sorry lmao) but i really enjoyed finally doing some Parent!Phan so i hope you enjoy reading it!Â
read on ao3
Words: 4.8k
Description: Phil is having the worst flight of his life. Until heâs not.Â
Warnings: I actually donât think there are any! let me know if i need to tag anything as a warning!
Kick.
Phil flinches.
Kick, kick.
He glances to his neighbor, a woman in her mid-fifties if he had to guess. Sheâs fast asleep, her book still open on her lap. Evidently the football game isnât happening behind her seat.
Kick-kick kick-kick.
Whoever it is certainly has some sort of rhythm, Phil thinks to himself. Itâs a silly thought, probably, but heâs trying to give the person a chance to prove themselves as someone who isnât rude enough to consistently kick the back of the seat of a stranger sat in the seat in front of them.
The kicking halts, and Phil breathes a sigh of relief. He hears quiet voices behind him, and heâs assuming that the culprit has been apprehended. He settles back in his seat, looking down at his iPad where he was previously watching a pre-downloaded episode of Free! before the kicking began.
Assuming heâs safe to resume, he unpauses his show, turning the volume down a tad so as not to wake the sleeping woman next to him. Heâs barely fifteen seconds in when thereâs a pressure on the back of his seat.
He sighs, closes his eyes, and counts to ten.
As calmly as possible, he pauses his show and slides his headphones off entirely, turning to the aisle to peek behind his seat.
A small child of about five is sat there, his big brown eyes meeting Philâs in what looks like surprise. At the sight of such a small human, Phil pauses.
âHello,â the little boy speaks, catching Phil off guard.
âHi,â he replies, smiling.
Suddenly, a third voice enters the conversation.
âOliver, leave this nice man alone.â Philâs eyes flicker over to the man beside the child, his eyes meet a pair identical to the ones the little boy possesses. âI am so, so sorry,â the man says, his eyes panicked. âThis is his first plane ride and I swear heâs not usually like this, weâll leave you alone now, right-â
Phil laughs quietly, interrupting his ramble. A little patch of pink appears right above the manâs jaw, and Phil studies it, deciding itâs rather endearing. âItâs fine, really. Youâre not bothering me,â he says, the last part directed at the little boy, who smiles at him shyly.
âStill, Iâm sorry. I told him to quit kicking the seat, and I think the last one was just to spite me.â The man sends the little boy a look, one that very clearly says âwe will talk about this later.â
âAh,â Phil says, glancing at the little boy. He tuts at him, and the child hides a grin. âNaughty, naughty, arenât we?â
The little boy, Oliver, shakes his head. âNo!â He protests. ââm just bored! Daddy didnât bring any games for me to play.â He sends a death glare to the man who is apparently his father, but he seems entirely unphased by this.
âI-â Before the man can really protest any further, Phil speaks up.
âI have some games on my iPad if youâd like to play them.â He glances at the man to gauge his reaction, which is a stunned, sort of hesitant look.
âReally?â The little boy asks, his whole face lighting up.
Phil shrugs. âSure, if your dad doesnât mind.â He shares a look with the brunette.
âErm, thatâs really quite kind of you to offer, but we canât-â
âNonsense,â Phil says, waving him off. He unconnects his headphones from the jack and clears his apps before going to a section with mostly kids games he keeps for when heâs around his friendâs kids. âGo wild, kiddo,â he says with a smile, handing the iPad over to the little boy.
Oliverâs eyes are big and round as he takes the device, perusing the selection of games with childlike glee. His father stares at him for a moment before snapping his head up to stare at Phil. He opens his mouth, slowly shaking his head like heâs about to insist he takes it back, but Phil isnât having that. With a wink and a smile, he turns back around in his seat, listening to the sounds of the little boy playing a game behind him.
~~~
Itâs probably twenty minutes later when he feels a tap on his shoulder. He startles, as it comes from his right, where heâs positive his seatmate in the middle is still asleep. The person at the window appears to be conked out as well, so he stares in puzzlement, trying to figure out who, or what, tapped him.
A hand comes up between the seats then, and Phil nearly screams in surprise. He just barely manages to turn it into a surprised gasp, and even then, his neighbor shifts a little, as if sheâs privy to his near panic-attack.
âSorry,â a quiet voice comes from behind his row of seats. Phil shifts a little, turning to peer through the area where thereâs a space between the seats at the top. The brunette man is smiling sheepishly at him. âI didnât mean to startle you.â
âYou didnât,â Phil lies automatically.
The man smirks. âRight.â They stare at each other for a minute, and Philâs cataloguing everything about him, from his deep brown eyes, to the concave of a dimple near his mouth, to the way that two strands of his hair are just a bit too short to sweep up into the curly mess waving over his forehead. âIâm Dan,â he says, interrupting Philâs current attempt at drawing a mental map of the constellation of freckles on his cheek.
âOh. Phil,â he replies with an awkward smile.
Dan smirks, as if he knows that Phil was just thinking about how cute his little button nose is. âI wanted to say thank you, for being nice to Olly.â His eyes move over to the little boy next to him, staying trained there for several seconds before his gaze flits back to Philâs. âI really appreciate it.â
Phil waves him off. âItâs not a problem, I promise. I canât imagine how tough it is being a parent with a small child, especially on a plane. But youâre doing a great job.â He smiles warmly, letting the sincerity seep into his words. He really does mean it, too. Until the kicking had started, Phil hadnât even realized there was a child so close to him on this flight. This was worlds away from the last flight he took, when all he was aware of was a screaming toddler two rows ahead of him.
Thereâs a soft smile on Danâs lips, and the pink patch has made a reappearance. âThank you,â he murmurs.
âDaddy, can you help me?â Oliverâs voice punctuates the conversation, and Dan offers Phil an apologetic smile before turning to tend to his son.
Phil has just turned back around, trying to hide his own grin as he hears Dan struggle with understanding the mechanics of whatever game his son has chosen. After a few moments, Danâs voice drops to a near whisper, and Phil strains to hear what heâs saying. Heâs listening so intently, with his head tilted back, that the feeling of a little hand tugging at his shirt makes him yelp.
The lady beside him fully wakes up then, giving him a dirty look before shifting around in her seat, snapping her book shut like she has something to prove.
âIâm so sorry,â Phil says quietly to her. He feels the tug again and turns around to come face to face with the child who was previously sat behind him. âHey, buddy,â Phil greets him with a smile.
Oliver smiles a little shyly before handing Phil the iPad. âDaddy said to give this back to you because he didnât know how to play the game.â
âOh, thatâs-â
âOlly!â Dan hisses from the row behind him, his voice pitched high in what sounds like embarrassment.
The child grins cheekily up at Phil, who laughs. âHere, why donât I try to help you out, okay?â
Oliverâs eyes light up and he nods excitedly. Before Phil has the chance to ask what game he was playing, the child is crawling up into his lap, pulling the iPad in Philâs hand to his own lap before patiently waiting for him to unlock it.
âOh,â Phil says dumbly. There is a child in his lap. Heâs not sure why, but thatâs definitely a thing that is happening. âWell, okay.â
He unlocks the iPad and lets Oliver pick the game he needs help on. Philâs just walking him through what he needs to do to get to the next level when they hear a throat being cleared. Itâs probably comical to an onlooker how both of their heads snap up in surprise at the same time. In Philâs surprise he nearly drops the iPad but has the sense to hold Oliver to his chest, so he doesnât slip off his lap.
Dan watches this with something between disapproval and endearment in his eyes. âOliver, I told you to give it back. Not bother him with it.â
Oliver pouts up at his father. âDaddy, he said heâd help me!â
âI donât mind, Dan, really.â Phil says with a smile.
Dan studies them for a moment, his arms crossed. Phil takes this chance to take in how tall he is, and how heâs having to bend over a little in order to stand up in the cabin. Phil hates that noticing his height makes him even hotter.
With a sigh of what might be defeat, Dan uncrosses his arms. âFine. ButâŚâ He hesitates then, looking at Phil with what might be embarrassment. âIâd feel a little more comfortable if you maybe moved back to our row? Thereâs an empty seat, and Iâd just prefer to be able to see him.â He looks almost apologetic, but Phil completely understands, and he can feel his own face flood with heat when he realizes how creepy he probably looks, allowing a strangerâs kid to sit in his lap to play games on his iPad.
âYeah, of course. Let me just grab my stuff,â Phil says quickly, before Dan changes his mind. Because Oliver really is a sweet kid and Phil loves kids. Heâs trying to convince himself that his eagerness to sit with them has nothing to do with wanting to look at Dan some more.
âOkay,â Dan smiles, the dimple making a reappearance. âOlly, hop up, Phil will come sit with us, okay?â
The child nods and clambers off Philâs lap to stand next to his seat, waiting patiently. Phil allows him to carry the iPad, much to the little boyâs glee.
Danâs already moved back to their row, where heâs shifted over to take the window seat. The shutter is drawn, Phil notices absently. Oliver sits down in the middle seat before turning to look at Phil with wide, expectant eyes. âSit, sit!â He cheers, tugging on Philâs sleeve.
âOlly,â Dan says, his voice a warning.
Phil laughs good-naturedly before settling into the seat beside the child. âHeâs fine, I promise.â He tilts his head to look at the iPad in Oliverâs lap. âAlrighty, buddy, where were we?â
An hour passes, in which Phil struggles through simplifying explanations to the child, before eventually Oliver hands him the tablet and sits up so he can watch what Phil does over his arm. Eventually Oliver decides to move the seat rest, scooting over so that heâs pressed tight against Philâs thigh. Phil glances up at Dan in alarm, unsure how to handle it, especially with Dan right there watching.
Dan shrugs, and he appears to be biting back a smile. âHe has no personal space,â He explains with a fond roll of his eyes.
âOh,â Phil says dumbly.
âPhil, look! I did it!â Oliver tilts his head back to grin up at Phil, a toothy smile that shows off his missing left front tooth.
âWay to go, buddy! Click on the green arrow and we can try the next level.â
Oliver nods, scrunching his eyebrows together as he sets to work on trying to figure out the second level. Phil stares down at him, a little burst of something like fondness blooming in his chest when he sees the way a dimple carves into his cheek when he presses his lips together. He giggles to himself, glancing up at Dan, who is tapping away on his phone.
âDan?â Phil says quietly.
The man turns his head immediately, smiling. âHm?â
Phil nods to his son. âMake that face?â He requests, holding back a laugh as Dan tilts his head, surveys his sonâs expression, and then copies it.
When Phil bursts into laughter, Dan frowns. âWhat?â He asks, his eyebrows furrowing.
âHold on,â Phil gasps, pulling out his phone and looking for the bread meme. He finds it pretty quickly before tilting the phone for Dan to see. âThis is what you looked like.â
Dan looks like he doesnât know whether to laugh or be insulted, but after sneaking a couple glances at Phil, he smiles. âAlright, alright. No need to bully me, Phil.â
Phil holds his hands up in surrender. âI didnât! You just had a derpy face.â
Oliver, whoâs apparently heard this whole conversation, looks up. âWhat about me? Do I have a derpy face?â He bats his puppy dog eyelashes, and Phil snorts.
âYou look just like your dad,â Phil says, trying not to insult the child. He doesnât even mean it as an insult, anyway. Dan is cute, and so was the face heâd copied from Oliver. It just so happened to be meme worthy, is all.
The child glances up at Dan, who scrunches his nose at him with a smile. Oliver copies the look and Phil is certain is heart is melting. âI donât see it,â Oliver announces, turning to Phil with a triumphant look.
Phil smiles, ruffling his hair playfully. âDonât worry, youâre cute, it was a compliment, bubby.â
Oliver nods, then side eyes his dad. Phil barely knows them, but he can feel like heâs about to say something cheeky.
Sure enough, he smirks up at Phil, looking so much like Dan that itâs almost scary. âSo, does that mean Daddy is cute?â He looks pleased with himself as soon as he said it.
Dan, however, flushes. âOliver!â
Phil doesnât even flinch, staring down at Oliver with a casually vague expression. âYep, sure does.â
The child at least has the decency to look abashed, but it only lasts a second. âDaddy broke up with my mommy because he doesnât like girls.â
âOliver James,â Dan hisses. This time he sounds less amused.
Both Phil and Oliver glance over at him, and Phil cringes when he sees the fury boiling behind his eyes. âDan-â
âWhat?â Oliver groans. âHe said youâre cute!â
Dan looks on the verge of arguing, so Phil decides to intervene. âYou know, Oliver, I donât like girls either,â He says, with all the casualty in the world.
Oliver looks vaguely surprised. âNot even your mum?â
Phil laughs, gently knocking his elbow against Oliverâs shoulder. âNo, you spoon! She doesnât count. I love my mum.â
The child nods seriously. âMy mum moved to âMerica. Daddy said sheâs gonna eat all the pancakes.â
âOlly,â Dan sighs. He only sounds vaguely defeated now.
âI love pancakes,â Phil tells the child, ignoring Dan completely. âTheyâre my favorite food.â
Oliver nods along, lacing his fingers together and placing his hands over the iPad on his lap, which has long since turned off. âDaddy says theyâre junk food.â
Phil gasps. âYour dad doesnât know what heâs talking about.â
Dan splutters indignantly. âI- Phil,â He whines. âI had a whole thing going with that. Now Iâll have to make pancakes every day.â
âOops,â Phil giggles, winking at Oliver. âGuess I ruined that one.â
âOops,â Oliver parrots, shrugging dramatically.
Dan sighs, shakes his head, and leans back in his seat, his eyes falling shut. âI have lost all control of this situation,â he announces.
Phil shares a look with Oliver, who rolls his eyes, or tries to, at least. âSo dramatic,â Phil tuts.
âDrama llama,â Oliver says in a voice dripping with disappointment.
âI can hear you,â Dan mutters.
Oliver pats on Philâs arm. âDo you make pancakes?â
âEr- sometimes, I guess,â he says, shrugging. The whole changing conversation topics every six and a half minutes is really taking his head for a spin.
The child bounces in his seat excitedly. âYou could make us pancakes! Daddy always burns them and scrapes the burn off.â
Phil has a joke on the tip of his tongue but bites it as soon as he sees the death glare Dan sends him. Instead, he smirks. âMaybe your dad just needs someone to teach him how to cook them.â
Oliver nods. âProlly so.â He glances at Dan, then leans in closer to Phil. In a stage whisper, he says, âDaddy doesnât let me have whip cream, but he puts it on his. So when heâs not looking, I eat it.â His face is full of glee when he leans away, and Phil canât help but laugh.
âWell, well, well,â he says, sending Dan a pleased look. Dan narrows his eyes. âI know something you donât know,â he sing-songs.
Dan rolls his eyes. âYouâre a child.â
Phil snorts, gesturing to Oliver. âIf he likes me, I reckon Iâm doing alright.â
Dan studies him for a long moment, his lip curling up in the hint of a smile. âYeah, I guess youâre right.â He glances down at Oliver, his face shifting into something softer, far more affectionate. âI guess youâre right.â
~~~
When the flight eventually lands, Philâs pretty sure heâll never be able to stand again. His legs feel like theyâre melded into the shape theyâre in, and heâs already dreaming of how great it will be to stand up and stretch. He gathers his things quietly, as Oliver is asleep in the seat next to him. Heâd fallen asleep laying against Philâs arm, and Dan had felt so guilty, apologizing profusely. Phil had said it was fine, that he honestly didnât mind, but Dan still shifted his child so that he was laying with his head in Danâs lap.
Now Dan was combing through his sonâs hair gently, gazing out the window. Heâd opened the blind when Oliver went to sleep, and theyâd quietly chatted for the rest of the flight. Phil learned that Dan and Oliver lived in London, about twenty-five minutes away from himself. He learned that they were in Florida to visit Oliverâs mum, who Dan split up with four and a half years ago, when Oliver was only five months old. He also learned that Dan was single.
âItâs so pretty,â Dan says softly, almost to himself.
Phil leans over, looking out the window as well. It really was, in a way. It was breathtaking to see the clouds parting around them as the plane descended, and no matter how many times Phil saw it, heâd still always be amazed by it. âIt really is,â he replies quietly.
Dan turns his head to look at him. âIâm sorry for bothering you the whole flight.â He looks bashful.
âYou didnât,â Phil assures him immediately. I thoroughly enjoyed spending time with Oliver.â He smiles cheekily when Dan rolls his eyes. âAnd youâre not bad company, either.â
This has that lovely pink patch reappearing, and Phil marvels at it. âYeah, well,â Dan mutters. âYou arenât so bad yourself.â
Phil grins triumphantly. Heâs about to reply when the wheels of the plane touch down, jostling them. Oliver stirs, but doesnât wake. Dan cards a hand through his sonâs hair, staring down at him with a fond smile.
âDo you want me to help gather your things?â Phil asks quietly.
Dan starts to shake his head, then seems to think better of it. âActually,â He starts, not meeting Philâs eyes. âIf I wake him up heâll be a little grumpy, so do you mind holding him while I gather it? Heâs less likely to throw a fit since youâre a new person and heâs trying to impress you.â
Phil smiles mischievously. âIs he the only one trying to impress me?â
âShut up,â Dan says with a blush crawling up his neck. He begins to wake Oliver, probably to avoid confronting Philâs obvious flirting.
âNo,â Oliver whines when Dan shakes him gently awake.
âShh, I know. Here, Phil wants to see you before we get off the plane.â Danâs voice is quiet and gentle as he guides Oliver into a sitting position. The child crawls over to Philâs lap, rubbing his eyes. Phil smiles down at him, but Oliver pays him no attention, snuggling in against Philâs chest and pressing his face to Philâs shirt. Philâs arms automatically go around him, and he feels that same bubble of affection. Children are so sweet, he thinks absently.
Dan takes a moment to stare at them before apparently snapping out of it, quickly and quietly gathering their things into two separate bags. One is clearly Oliverâs, with a dinosaur print on the back, and the other is a black sequined one, likely Danâs. âCute bag,â Phil teases.
The brunette sticks his tongue out, and Phil has to bite back his goofy responding smile.
A few moments later everyone is filing out of the plane and Dan looks anxious, constantly glancing up at the overhead bins. âDo you have something you need to get out?â Phil asks.
âEr, yeah. Do you mind grabbing it?â He looks like he hates to ask, but Phil just nods easily.
âSure.â He starts to stand, then realizes that he kind of has his hands full. âErâŚâ
âOh, right.â Dan looks embarrassed. Phil loves the pink patch even more. âOlly, câmere, Philâs gonna stand up.â
âNo,â Oliver says easily. His little fists dig into Philâs shirt, and he wraps his legs around him as tightly as he can.
âOliver, come on.â Danâs voice is stern.
Oliver shakes his head against Philâs chest. âNo, Daddy.â He doesnât sound particularly upset or petulant, but his mind is made up.
Phil stares at Dan helplessly. Dan looks right on the cusp of flat out anger, but a voice from the aisle makes them both look up.
âExcuse me, do you two need a hand?â A lady probably not much older than Phil is sat across the aisle, waiting for their rowâs turn to stand up and file out the plane.
âEr, weâre fine, thank y-â Dan starts.
âYes, actually! Would you mind grabbing the bag above us?â Phil says politely, smiling at the lady gratefully when she nods and stands.
âThe blue one?â She asks, already tugging at something.
âYes,â Dan replies, sounding embarrassed.
Phil glances at him and mouths the word âSorry.â
Dan shakes his head a little, offering him a half-smile.
âHere you go,â the woman says cheerfully, handing the bag across Phil to Dan.
âThank you,â They say in almost perfect unison. They glance at each other and snicker, much to the amusement of the good Samaritan who is still standing in the aisle.
âYou three are so cute,â She coos.
âOh, weâre not-â Dan starts.
âThank you!â Phil replies, talking over him. She smiles and returns to her own seat, gathering her things. Dan sends Phil a curious look. Phil shrugs. âHow weird would it be to say, âOh, sorry, no, this is a stranger! Not the father of my child, we just met today!ââ
Dan opens his mouth, then immediately shuts it again. He makes the bread face. âPoint taken.â He glances down at the three bags in the chair between them, a sigh escaping his lips.
âHere,â Phil says, reaching out. âIâll put Oliverâs on his back.â
Dan nods and hands it over, watching as Phil coaxes the child into sitting up enough for the straps to be slid onto his arms. He fusses a little, but Phil shushes him gently, reminding him that good boys on the plane have to wear their own backpacks. Dan rolls his eyes but has a quiver to his lip when he turns away.
Itâs finally their rowâs turn to exit, and Phil stands carefully, cradling the small child to his chest and slinging his own backpack over his shoulders. He glances back at Dan, raising a brow. âGot everything?â
âYeah, I think so.â
Phil nods and leads the way, smiling when the flight attendants coo at him. He feels awkward, considering this isnât his child, but heâs not bothered by their attention. If anything, some sick part of him is thriving off people assuming that he could land someone like Dan and manage to raise a beautiful child with him.
âGod, it feels so nice to stand up,â Dan groans behind him when theyâre walking through the tunnel back into the airport.
Stopping to allow Dan to walk beside him, Phil grins. âI know, right? I feel like Iâm in a little sardine can every time I fly.â
Dan nods, his nose scrunching up in distaste. âI literally hate that description, but thatâs exactly what it feels like.â
Phil laughs, slowing to a stop when theyâre near some chairs. âEr, I think this belongs to you,â He says as he gently extracts Oliverâs arms from around his neck.
âNo!â The little boy cries, hugging him tighter. âNo, please donât leave! We didnât finish our game!â
âOllyâŚâ Dan sighs. âPhil didnât come on this flight just to play games with you. Heâs got his own life, and we do too.â
âBut we could be in it!â He argues. Oliver tucks his face into Philâs neck and sniffles. He mumbles something that Phil doesnât catch, but Danâs face shifts into something like defeat.
âBubâŚâ
Oliver turns his head a little, glaring at Dan. âYou never let me keep anyone. Mummy left, and you sent Ben away, and Uncle Addy doesnât even come see me!â
Danâs face crumples, and Philâs heart splinters. Heâs almost positive heâs about to start crying. To save Dan the embarrassment of crying in front of his child or other people, Phil steps closer to him, so Oliver has almost no choice but to tuck his face back against Philâs chest. âI have an idea, buddy. How about your dad and I exchange phone numbers, that way when you want to see me and play games on my iPad he can let me know? Does that sound like a plan?â
Oliver sniffles, considering it. Philâs eyes find Danâs and he watches, his chest aching, as Dan wipes away at a couple tears. He tries to smile at Phil, but it falls a little short, looking more like a grimace.
âI guess⌠I guess that would be okay,â Oliver mumbles.
Phil smiles, petting his hair. âOkay.â He glances at Dan, allowing his lips to curve up into a smirk. âYour phone number?â He asks, tugging out his own phone and unlocking it.
Dan looks a little speechless but takes the device, creating a contact in Philâs phone. He taps for a moment, probably sending himself a message so heâd have Philâs number as well. He hands it back when heâs finished, and Phil tucks it away. âOkay, Oliver, time to go,â Dan says gently.
The child sighs, but slowly detaches himself from Phil, allowing himself to be handed off to his father. He tucks his face into Danâs neck immediately, and Phil watches with warmth in his chest as Dan nuzzles his cheek against Oliverâs temple.
âWell⌠I guess weâll be seeing you soon,â Dan says, his voice bordering on shy.
Phil nods, biting back a smile. âI guess so,â he replies. He lays a hand on Oliverâs head, messing his hair playfully. âBe good, little man. Iâll see you soon, yeah?â
Oliver sits up long enough to wave his little hand. âBye, Phil, see you later.â He sounds tired, and his eyes are drooping. Phil hopes Dan can handle getting him home before he conks out again.
âBye, Phil,â Dan says softly. He gives Phil one last lingering look before turning to walk the opposite way. Oliverâs little face peeks up over his shoulder, and he waves one last time before theyâre swallowed up by the crowd.
~~~
When Phil gets back to his own flat, he checks his phone for any messages. Seeing his most recent is the text Dan sent himself on his phone, and unable to quell his curiosity, he taps on the chat.
Phil: I was too scared to say it w olly there but u were very lovely to us on the flight and I rly appreciate it. also u r very cute xx
Phil: Is this supposed to be from me to you or you to yourself?
Dan: You spoon Its from me to u
Phil: Oh Well you are very cute too Xx
Dan: U donât rly have to see us again if u donât want olly will live I promise
Phil: Ridiculous I want to Does Friday work?
Dan: Friday is perfect x
#fluff#airplane fic#phan#phanfiction#phanfic#parent!phan#airplane au#parent dan au#pretty much just nonsense if im being honest#but i thought it was a cute prompt
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âTil Then I Walk Alone
This is my gift for @bloodamber for the Dirk Gently Holistic Gift Exchange! I hope you like it! Read on for Bart becoming a Rowdy, Amanda becoming Holistic, Priest maybe possibly becoming vapourised, Friedkin becoming frustrated and the team becoming family...
You can also read it on AO3!
Amanda kicked her bare feet up onto the dash and tapped her fingers on her knees. The speakers roared, playing loudly enough that it forced everything else from her ears, just the pure sensation of music taking over her heartbeat. Cross and Vogel were jabbing each other in the ribs in some sort of game where the rules changed every time one of them looked like they were too close to winning, and Gripps was lying flat on the floor, hands clasped over his chest, fast asleep.
She glanced over to Martin and nicked his cigarette, holding his eye as she pulled on the smoke and let it waterfall out between her lips. He kept his face turned towards the road, but his eyes to the side, watching her until she slipped the butt back between his lips.
The windows were down. The air was thin, hot and dry as they drove over the mountains to wherever the universe wanted to take them.
Amanda was the first to spot her, feet dropping to the footwell. âHey, pull over.â
Martin swerved and the tyres screamed as he pulled off the road onto the dusty verge. He squinted at the figure. âThat oneâs bad news, Drummer.â
âWeâre all bad news,â she said, and jumped out, still barefoot. âHey, donât I know you?â
The girl walked towards her. The landscape stretched away from them on both sides, miles of scrubland plateau, dry and rocky, and a young woman covered in blood and an orange jumpsuit.
âDoubt it. Most people that know meâre dead.â
Amanda narrowed her eyes at her. âIâm sure I do⌠werenât you involved in that Wendimoor bullshit?â
Her slumped shoulders seemed to slump further and she shrugged sulkily, staring off into the distance.
âYou were, werenât you? You were with that pink haired guy, that--â
âPanto,â she said softly. âHeâs dead too. I killed them all.â
Amanda frowned. âNo heâs not.â
âWhat do you know?â She glared at her, yellow teeth bared and eyes shockingly present under her wild mop of bloody hair.
âThe boy brought them all back,â Amanda said. âAfterwards, didnât you meet him? The Cardenas boy? Project Moloch?â
She glared at her, but her eyes flickered from side to side, just a little, like she wanted to believe her.
âOh, hey, I can show you,â she said, pulling the wand out of the waistband of her jeans. The woman narrowed her eyes at it. âCâmon, Iâll show you what happened, Iâm pretty sure thereâs a spell to show someone the past⌠lemme seeâŚâ She scrunched her face up and pointed the wand at the side of the van, imaging it lighting up like a movie screen. Her arm moved. She didnât think too hard about it. That was just how the magic worked. The universe moved her arm for her.
The blue glow hit the side of the van, the scene spreading out like honey dripping on bread. The boy standing there in his nightgown and his crown, the witch being hurled into the train, and everyone coming back. Silas and Panto hand in hand, smiling at each other, kissing as their brother and sister looked on proudly.
âSee?â
She dragged her eyes away from the scene. âDonât mean nothin,â she grunted, her voice like gravel. âYou could just be making it up.â
âYeah, guess so,â Amanda shrugged. âAnyway. You wanna come with us?â
âWhy?â
âCuz thereâs nothing else out here. Where else have you got to be?â
âI donât know,â she said, frowning. âThe universe tells me where to go.â
âYou Blackwing too?â Martin grunted, one long leg cocked up on the open door of the van, the other kicked out on the dusty ground.
âBlackwing donât exist anymore,â she said with a casual shrug. âI killed âem.â
âWhat, all two hundred and thirty four of them?â said Cross, head on one side. âEven Priest?â
She shook her head. âCanât kill Priest, heâs like us.â
Martin dropped his chin, looked over his glasses at her. His eyebrows were high in his hair. âHeâs what now?â
âProject Orthrus,â she said, looking out over the plain.
âWhat, so heâs like⌠the holistic soldier?â Amanda snorted. âThe holistic killer, what?â
She looked up at Amanda slowly. âIâm the killer. Holistic assassin, whatever.â
Amanda pursed her lips and nodded. âCool. Iâm Amanda.â
She blinked at her. âBart.â
âIâm Vogel!â Vogel yelled, bouncing off the roof of the van and over to Bart. âCross and Gripps and Martin and me, weâre the Rowdy Three, we trash stuff and make noise!â
Bart cocked her head on one side and gave a crooked smile. âSounds good.â
âYou wanna go set stuff on fire and dance around a bit? Boss says we can if it ainât raining.â
âIâm Boss,â Amanda grinned.
âSure, why not?â Bart shrugged. âDonât think Iâve ever made a fire.â
Martin scooped Amanda up over his shoulder and carried her back to the van while Vogel dragged Bart into the back with him and the others. Gripps set up a beat, stamping on the floor of the van with his heavy boot, and the others joined in, some in the same rhythm, some whooping out of time, and Amanda laughed and threw her head back, drumming on the roof so that the loose interior started to vibrate, dust drifting down slowly on their heads.
They pulled over as the sun started to set, jumping up onto the dented roof, pulling each other up and turning to face the dying rays of light. A hot, dry wind drifted through Amandaâs hair and she tipped her head back, spreading her arms and letting the sunbeams cast their shadows through her fingers.
Vogel, never able to stay still for long, leaped off in a backflip. He cheered, his head thrown back to howl at the crescent moon that rose above the mountains, and climbed back up to do it all over again. Bart sat, dangling her feet off the side of the van, and watched him in quiet interest.
âWe got some of that kerosine?â Cross yelled up to Martin.
âUh-huh,â he said, gesturing to the back, then draping one long arm over her shoulder. She slipped her fingers between his and smiled out at the world.
Gripps and Vogel gathered dry wood and piled them haphazardly into the bare ground. Cross tipped the fuel over it.
âMake a line, make a line!â Vogel yelled, and Cross dripped a snaking line from the pile back to the van. Martin looked down at the damp ground, lit a match and threw it.
The vapours caught with a whomp sound, and the line of flame trickled over to the pile of dry wood as Vogel jumped back and forth over it, shrieking. When the pile went up, the blast of heat knocked him back, and she grinned as Martin threw his head back in a silent laugh.
âDonât you guys get hurt either?â Bart asked.
âYeah, we do,â Martin grunted. âWe just know our limits.â
âI donât get hurt,â she said mildly.
âUseful,â Cross said. He bent down over the dying flame near the van and poked at the sandy soil beneath it until it faded away, leaving the bonfire the only light this side of the horizon.
Bart hopped down and walked towards the fire, stepping onto the crackling logs. Wherever her feet touched, the flame faded away, returning to the same spot when she moved on. Vogel laughed and clapped. âHey, how dâyou do that? Teach me!â
âCanât,â she said. âThe universe just donât want me to get hurt.â
âCool!â he said. âHey, can you hug a cactus?â
âWhatâs a cactus?â
âSpiky plants,â he said, looking around for one.
âThere arenât any cactuses here, Vogel, weâre too far north.â
He frowned. âWe should find a bear for her to hug then, theyâre north, right?â
Amanda laughed, and Bart gave her crooked smile, softening a little. âIf I find a bear, Iâll see if it wants a hug.â
Gripps found a branch with dry leaves and set them alight, waving the branch around to release drifting sparks into the blackness of the night. Cross pulled a pack of squashed marshmallows out of his jacket pocket and handed them to Vogel to poke onto the branch afterwards, and Bart stared, her head cocked on one side.
âYou had these before?â Vogel asked, waving one at her.
âNuh-uh,â she shook her head. âWhaddya do with it?â
âOh, man, theyâre the best thing, the best thing. You burn âem, then you eat âem, like my two favourite things! Sugar and fire!â
Gripps showed Bart how to push a marshmallow onto a stick, a fond smile on his round face already, and Cross gave her his very serious lecture on how long they should be held in the flame. Vogel never listened to him and just burned them black, then ate them too hot. Amanda crossed her arms and leant into Martinâs side as Bart nodded and counted carefully.
Martin bent to kiss her on the head, rubbing his lips over the buzz of her undercut, and she wrapped her arm around his waist, and felt the warmth sink into her bones, the satisfaction she felt when her boys were together, and safe, and happy. Like something had clicked into place in the universe.
***
The sun burned overhead, too hot and too early to be awake. She groaned and rubbed her eyes and considered going back to sleep, but sunburn was definitely not punk. She shoved Martin in the ribs.
âMmf?â
âCâmon, let me up.â
He pushed himself up, his white hair scrunched up on one side where it had been pressed onto her sternum half the night. She smirked and ruffled it, and he pulled her into a noogie, then a kiss. And then someone shot the van over their heads.
Amanda yelped and covered her head, rolling over as bullets sent up puffs of dirt around them. She could hear Martin yelling for the others, his arms covering her, muscles tensing in response to each volley of shots.
Somehow they all got behind a boulder. âItâs them⌠itâs Blackwing,â Vogel yelled over the gunfire, his eyes wide, terrified, and Amanda wanted to scream.
âI thought Bart said she got them all!â
âThere mustâa been some other soldiers left over, theyâre gonna take us back again.â
âWhatcha doing there?â Bart asked at a normal volume.
âBart!â Amanda yelled. âGet down, theyâll see you, you canât just stand out in the open like that! Come here!â
Bart frowned around at the soldiers as the hail of bullets continued. âBullets donât hit me,â she said, scratching her belly. âWell, there was that one time⌠but Iâve tested it since. Think it was only âcause I was tryâna kill another project.â She sniffed and rubbed her nose. âOK, Iâll be back in a sec. Universeâs telling me this lot gotta die.â
âBart!â Amanda leaped up, but Bart was walking towards the first group of soldiers. As she watched, still flinching from the bullets and shards of stone flying all over the place, Bart ripped a gun from the nearest soldier and fired around, ever shot finding a home in a skull or a chest, blood spraying out and splashing across her face, adding to the rust colour already spread across her jumpsuit. âHoly shit.â
The boys grinned at each other. Martin howled, and they raced out at the nearest group of soldiers, sticks and rocks in hand, vicious snarls and violence, and Amanda left staring in horror, because there was Priest.
He stood at the apex, at the point of the V, with Bart approaching on one side and the Rowdies on the other, and he was smiling. He was always smiling, but he looked prepared. He looked like a man who was going to take everyone important away from her again.
Bart couldnât kill Priest. She couldnât kill another project - sheâd even been hurt trying. And Priest had captured the boys once before, leaving her and Vogel to run, together and terrified. Well, fuck that. She set her jaw, and pulled the wand out of her pocket, marching directly towards him.
âWhatâre you gonna do with that kiddie toy Miss Brotzman?â Priest called, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Martinâs head whip around from the soldier he had on the floor, panic in his eyes.
âI have no idea,â she yelled, and let the universe do what it wanted through her.
There was a blinding blue, a lightning strike, and pain screaming through Amandaâs arms where she held onto the wand. She gritted her teeth through what had to be an attack, blue sparks curling over her skin. âIâm a fucking witchakookoo,â she hissed to herself between her teeth, tears squeezed out of her eyes. âPararibulitis can get fucked!â
She curled her fingers around the wand, embraced the pain, embraced the vision, made the attack real, and the lightning leaped to her will, shooting outwards as she screamed in pain, heading straight for PriestâŚ
...who disappeared.
The thunder cracks died down, her attack faded, and she stood in a blast radius of bubbling sand. The Rowdies and Bart stood and stared around at the absolute lack of soldiers.
âDid you vapourise them?â Bart called, vague interest in her voice.
âI donât know,â Amanda said, and cleared her throat as it croaked. âI donât know what happened.â
âDid you get a vision, Boss?â Vogel asked, trotting down to her.
She shook her head. âI dunno⌠maybe I only get the visions if Iâm not making the attacks real. Maybe I can only use them one way.â She lowered her hands and tucked the wand back inside her jacket, shaking her hands out. âHave all of them disappeared?â
Martin nodded, brushing a lock of hair back out of her face and lighting a cigarette. âEven the ones we had on the floor.â
Amanda held up her arms. She could never help it, after an attack. She knew the delusions werenât real but she could never resist looking for scars or burns or gaping wounds, even though they were never there. Surely this time would be different, if sheâd made the attack real like she did in Wendimoor? But no, her bare arms were as pale and freckled as ever, and she ran her fingers along her skin. The ground beneath her feet was crackled and scarred, but she was in the clear, and the hairs along the back of her neck rose. She shook it off, forced the creeps away.
âLetâs get outta here,â Gripps said. âAinât right now theyâve been here.â
Martin nodded and Gripps ducked his head to throw Vogel over his shoulder in a firemanâs lift, where he whooped and slapped Grippsâ ass. âCâmon then, kids. Back on the road.â
***
The next few days were quieter as they kept their senses open, waiting for another sign of Blackwing. They pretended they werenât, pretended they were wild and free, but the hackles on the backs of their necks rose more quickly, the stops were quieter. Only Bart seemed unaffected, staring up at the great sky above, smiling at Vogel, chatting to Gripps, laughing loud and raucous. Though Amanda noticed even she would stop herself sometimes, like she was drawing herself back, reminding herself sheâd been hurt before and should hold back this time.
The van had a collection of new bullet holes, and Amanda poked her finger through one as they drove late one night, feeling the cold wind whistling over her skin. Martin slowed at a junction, and she sat up, her eyes wide. âGo that way.â
He turned without question, down to the left rather than straight ahead. Amanda sat back and frowned. She didnât even know where she was, why did she care? It had just felt right. Essential, even.
They came to a small town. Amanda stared blankly ahead, looking hard into her own head for that feeling once more, but it never came. She wasnât even sure sheâd felt it any more. How could she describe it? It had been fleeting and unremarkable, but absolutely insistent.
Cross sat up and sniffed, hard, as they passed a run-down set of concrete buildings. âSmell that?â
Martin puffed on his cigarette, a grin curling up one side of his face. âYep.â He turned the wheel hard and Amandaâs hand shot out to grip the handle of the van door. The tyres squealed and her heartrate increased as they raced down street after street, past flickering neon lights and grimy shops, burnt out streetlamps and overflowing garbage cans.
Gripps, Cross and Vogel were leaning forward like hounds on a leash, growling and cheering and whooping and yelling in excitement, and Amanda peered ahead, wondering what they were hunting down, wondering where her boys were taking her, and trusting them implicitly.
Martin threw them into a spin and they stopped half on the kerb, the boys leaping from the van and tearing down an alleyway. She scrambled after them, following the smashing and screaming, the squealing of a metal garbage can lid scraped along the brick wall, and then the yelps of someone up ahead, someone theyâd caught and were surrounding.
There was blue light, and her glee was muted, because blue light meant someone like them, someone terrified and panicking and the boys were taking it away from them, and rather than the vicious glee of punishing some Blackwing asshole theyâd heard of, she just felt a grim satisfaction as she caught up.
And then horror, because there was Todd squirming and screaming and kicking in Crossâ arms, swearing at them. âLeave him alone, you bastards, Iâll fucking kill you, leave him alone!â
âTodd! What are you doing? Let them help him!â she yelled, catching up at last.
He was distraught, tears flooding down his face as he kicked and wriggled, Cross lifting his feet well clear of the floor. âMake them stop! Make them stop, I swear to God!â
She frowned at him. âWhat the hell? No!â
His face crumpled. âPlease, Manda, I know they hate me - and I know I deserve it! But please, they can have me, please leave Dirk alone!â
âWhat are you talking about, asshole?â she snapped, hiding her confusion behind sharp words like a true Brotzman. âThey helping him!â
Just then, they finished feeding, and Cross dropped Todd, who scrambled over to Dirk, grabbing his shoulders. âAre you OK? Are you OK?â
âYeah,â he groaned.
Todd turned back to them and planted himself in front of Dirk, snarling up at Martin. âWhat the hell is wrong with you? Why canât you just leave him alone?â
Martin lit another cigarette and blew the smoke into his face. âThe hell you talking about? Heâs scared, we eat the fear.â
âTheyâre helping him,â Amanda snapped, squaring up to her shithead brother. âYou could be a bit more grateful, you know? Or are you just jealous because they wonât help you when you have an attack?â
âHelping?â he yelped, his voice doing that pitchy thing she always mocked him about. âHow is chasing him and scaring him half to death helpinghim? What, they want to give him a good cardio workout?â
Martin frowned. âWe donât scare him. Britâs scared so we find him, thatâs what we do. We take the fear away. Ainât that right?â He turned to Dirk, who was standing and brushing himself off.
Dirk looked up, eyes wide like a rabbit caught in the headlights. âUmm, well, Iâd actually⌠I mean, I was scared before, butâŚâ
âYou make it, like, ten times worse when you chase him down like that, what the hell is wrong with you?â Todd snapped, and Amanda rolled her eyes, because Todd might be a cowardly little shit when it came to himself but when he thought he was protecting someone, he was always ready to throw down with the biggest guy in the room. He barely came up to Martinâs collarbone.
âDirk,â she said. âCome on, doesnât it help? What they do?â
âUmm⌠well⌠I wouldnât say helped, itâs more - aaah!â He flinched backwards as Gripps moved towards him, and Martin frowned.
âYouâre gettinâ scared again, Brit. You need to calm down.â
Dirk actually stamped his foot. âWell, of course Iâm getting scared! Todd and I were just investigating here following some very interesting leads, and I got a bit of a fright because a cat jumped out at me from an alleyway and I thought it was a shark, and then you four come howling out of nowhere and chase after me like Iâm some⌠some⌠some snack for your midnight feast, you smash up all the windows and you throw me on the ground like youâre about to beat the crap out of me, you pick Todd up like youâre going to steal him, of course Iâm scared! I thought you didnât mind me anymore! I thought weâd worked together in Wendimoor and now you didnât hate me and maybe, just maybe youâd leave me the hell alone!â
Dirk sucked in air, panting and almost sobbing as silence fell. Todd turned to the rest of them with a look of utter loathing on his face, his fists clenching by his side, and Amanda realised that sheâd never been on the wrong side of that face, sheâd only ever seen his protectiveness from behind.
Martin spat to the side. âAinât never hated you, Dirk.â
Dirk laughed and scrubbed his hand over his face. âYou have a funny way of showing it.â
He sighed. âLook, kid⌠youâve seen how we are⌠how we treat each other, right?â He gestured at Cross, Gripps and Vogel. Gripps obligingly tackled Cross to the ground with a thump, and Vogel leaped onto his back. âItâs just how we are.â
Dirk looked at the pile of Rowdies on the floor. âOhâŚâ His lip trembled, and he turned his face away. âYou really⌠I thought it was because of before⌠back thereâŚâ
Martin raised his eyebrow. âCause Riggins made you join in on our tests?â
Dirk nodded, his shoulders hunching.
Martin shrugged. âMade us join in on each otherâs tests too, you know? Made us fight each other. We still know whoâs the bad guy.â
âOhâŚâ
Toddâs face softened and he moved closer, squeezing Dirkâs shoulder, his forehead crinkling up. Something made Amanda frown, because he used to look at her like that, and sheâd thought⌠sheâd kinda thought that look was a lie as well, because how could he care about her the way she thought he did, when heâd lied so bad? But it was obvious he cared about Dirk, maybe even loved him. It always had been obvious. She bit her lip and nudged Martin. He looped one long arm around her shoulder, watching Todd and Dirk exchange soft conversation.
Dirk looked up, eyes slightly red-rimmed. âIâm sorry I misunderstood. I thought you wanted to scare me.â
âDonât get me wrong, kid, I wasnât trying to not scare you. Weâre scary dudes. Itâs how we like it.â
Dirk smiled, then frowned and cocked his head on one side. âIs that⌠Bart?â
âHey, Dirk,â she said, waving.
âYouâre still covered in bloodâŚâ
âOh, yeah, thatâs not the same blood,â she said, looking down at her jumpsuit.
âThatâs⌠not reassuring.â
âWhat are you guys doing in Logan?â Todd asked, placing himself between Dirk and Bart.
âWe could ask you the same thing,â Amanda said. âWeâre the ones who travel around, last I heard you guys were settled in Seattle, with the agency and everything.â
He nodded. âYeah, we were given a case out here.â
âBit of a long way to go,â she frowned.
He shrugged. âDirkâs cases come from all over, theyâre weird. Like, almost without exception theyâre weird.â He smiled fondly over at Dirk, and Amanda ignored the strange feeling in her gut, a lot like jealousy. But that was stupid. She didnât want to be coddled by him anymore. Sheâd hated it, and though she didnât hate him, she hated what heâd done to her.
She cleared her throat. âWell, we were just passing through. Picked Bart up on the road out in the mountains, so sheâs gonna travel with us for a bit, see how things go.â She crossed her arms. âWe should probably be going.â
There was that pull again, as she turned, that feeling that she should definitely not be going this way, she should be going back. She ignored it. Her brother didnât need her. Heâd found some other sucker to take his guilt out on and Amanda had her life and her freedom now. She had the boys, and she didnât need anyone else. She forced her reaction down, even as she heard his dumb, sad voice saying goodbye. She didnât need to be near him.
âOh, my God, what do I have to do here?â
âWhat the fuck is that?â Bart snarled, and the rest of them leaped back away from the blonde guy whoâd appeared, pouting, in midair.
âYou,â Martin snarled, and Cross and Gripps growled beside him, Grippsâ lip curling up to show his teeth.
Floaty-man held his hands up, and Amanda blinked to see his eyes, the pupils all distorted and different sizes. She snapped her head to Todd, wondering if he was remembering Wendimoor and the backstage of the universe as well. âHey, guys, chill,â said Floaty-man.
âHeâs Blackwing,â Cross growled.
Bart frowned. âI can kill him if ya like, I mean, I donât really feel like it, butâŚâ she shrugged.
âHey, no, that would suck,â he whined. âIâm not Blackwing any more, Iâm just me. Just Friedkin. Anyway, I donât think you can kill me, like⌠itâs kinda weird here, but Iâm pretty sure Iâm, like, immortal or something?â
âOh, fucking hell, another one?â Amanda snapped, pulling her wand out. âI got rid of the last one--â
âNononono, wait! Oh my God you guys are so damn difficult! I thought it would be easier, you know, being omniscient and stuff - I mean, I even know words like omniscient now? Like, I can use them in context and everything. Oh! Look, I know what context means! But you tools are just⌠ugh!â
âWhoâre you calling a tool?â Todd frowned.
âYou guys,â he said, waving his hands. âI mean, not you, youâre just⌠I donât know what you are, like, you just hang out with Icarus.â
âDonât you fucking call him that,â Todd snarled.
âUgh, Dirk Gently, whatever. But the rest of you⌠youâre all the tools to fix the broken universe, you know? Thatâs why you have your powers.â
Amanda frowned and lowered her wand. âWhat are you then?â
âIâm the co-ordinator - ooh, see? I know another word, man, itâs like Iâm a dictionary or something, itâs awesome. If Assistent could see me now! And I gotta say, it is a mess up there. I mean, they gave the power to bring all of you together to Mr Priest? Hoo, boy, bad choice there. Whoever was my predecessor did a shitty job.â He grinned and pointed at his own face. âPredecessor! Look at me go! Anyway, I gave that job to you,â he said, frowning at Amanda, âand youâre still not doing it right! I thought youâd be way better than Priest, that dude was scary but at least he got everyone in the right building. For a little while, you know? But then he kept you all separate and thought it would be fun to like⌠let Riggins poke you with sticks, and all, soâŚâ
âI seem to remember you doing a certain amount of poking us with sticks,â Dirk said through gritted teeth.
Friedkin waved his hands. âThat was before I knew, man.â
âWait, wait,â Todd said. âWhat do you mean you gave that job to Amanda?â
âSheâs got to bring all the tools together. Itâs her power, now, sheâs, like, the holistic finder or whatever.â
âWordsâve abandoned you now, huh?â Bart said dryly.
âAnd now sheâs found another one sheâs just trying to ignore her powers and leave again, and Iâm just fed up of you all being so sucky at this holistic shit! Is it really so hard to just listen when the universe asks you to do something?â
âYes, it is, actually,â said Dirk, his voice almost trembling with anger. âWhen the universe tells us to walk out of a diner when we might actually be happy for the first time in our lives and get captured by you arseholes for two months, yes, itâs pretty hard to trust that the universe has our best interests at heart.â
âThatâs because it doesnât,â he said, rolling his weird drugged-out eyes. âThe universe doesnât care about you, it cares about the universe. It needs fixing, and you all need to be together to do that. Blackwing was the best place for that. It isnât any more, but you still have to get together.â
âSo, what, thatâs it?â Amanda said as the alley fell silent. âWeâre just⌠fated to go find the others now, and thatâs it? No more freedom? Weâre stuck with each other, whether we want to be or not?â
Todd looked away, and Amanda tried to tell herself that she didnât feel guilty.
Bart shrugged. âI mean, I pretty much do that anyway,â she said. âI been following what the universe wants since I got out of Blackwing the first time.â She glanced up at Amanda. âWould be⌠kinda nice to do that with other people. Maybe who donât mind if Iâm covered in blood and that. Ken was the first one who everâŚ. and heâŚâ Her voice hitched, and she looked away. âI dunno, you guys might, like, understand for a little longer, you know?â
Amanda smiled, her chest aching a little as she wondered how lonely Bart had been. How lonely theyâd all been.
Friedkin clapped his hands. âAwesome, that settles it. Iâm off backstage, itâs weird being stuck in just one time. See you guys, stay cool.â And he was gone.
They walked in a trickle out of the alleyway, the sun rising over the mountains casting the clouds in an orange and pink light. Martin waved the boys and Bart into the van, but Todd ran up to Amanda. âHey⌠uh, look, I know you donât want to be stuck with me anymore.â He rubbed the back of his head. âI guess⌠I mean, Iâm not one of the tools or anything, I donât have anyâŚâ he swallowed and looked away towards the sunrise. âI guess I could just⌠go back to Seattle. Make it easier for everyone.â
She looked at him, his shoulder slumped, offering to give up his only friend, possibly someone he loved, just to make her comfortable, and punched him in the arm. âShut up, dickhead, and get in the van.â
âHey!â
She sighed and rolled her eyes, and gritted her teeth ready for an actual heartfelt conversation. âUgh, you know what? I wasnât talking about you, back there. I just⌠I donât want to be told what to do, you know? Not even if itâs the universe doing the telling. I only just got my freedom, and itâs been amazing, driving around with the boys, doing whatever we want, and I donât want to give that up.â
âYou can still do that, I think,â he said earnestly. âLike, we can just drive around and Dirk can get called to solve crimes and the boys can get called to trash whatever needs trashing, and Bart can get called to be a murder gremlin or whatever⌠and you can get called to the next Blackwing subject who needs help. And if youâre all made to help fix the universe and everything thatâs wrong with it, maybe itâd be better to do that all together.â He glanced back at the van, and Dirk, sitting in the back with his shoulders tense. âBut I think weâll drive in our own car behind you, OK?â
She grinned, then pulled him into a hug. âYouâre an asshole.â
âYouâre a dumbass.â He was grinning as she pulled back, like the weight of the world had been taken off his shoulders. âI love you, sis.â
âEww, emotions,â she said, screwing up her nose. âGross. Weâre Brotzmans, we donât do that.â
âYou ready to go, Drummer?â asked Martin, coming up to put his long arm on her shoulder.
âTodd,â said Dirk, grabbing Toddâs arm. âPlease tell me I donât have to ride in the van? Gripps wants to paint my nails green, and he wonât listen when I tell him itâll clash horribly with my jacket. If he had blue it would be a completely different matter, but green is just wrong.â He pulled a Panic Pete doll out of his pocket. âAlso Mona might want to be a tiger again and sheâll need more space, it really makes the most sense to have our own car.â
âYo, are we gonna get some food before we go hunting? I want Chinese. Have you had Chinese?â Bart said, looking at Cross. He shook his head. âItâs awesome.â
Gripps and Vogel jumped down as well. Vogel jumped onto Grippsâ back, hugging him tight. âWhat are we looking at?â
âNothing,â said Amanda, smiling up at him. But she turned back to the road, a long stretch of tarmac leading out into the desert and the mountains. The early morning sunlight poured down the distant slopes, creeping across the road out of town. âOK, guys,â she said, taking a deep breath of the new day. âLetâs go fix the broken universe.â
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The (Un)Wanted Kiss [Chapter 5]
A/N: Oh god, I still feel like shit. My head hurts so bad youâd think Athena was about to come out of it. And I hate this chapter. It didnât even hit the major plot point it was supposed to, but if Iâd written anymore it wouldâve been too long and all that stupid shit. Whatever. Ends on another cliffhanger, because Iâm an asshole. If you asked to be added to the tag list and werenât (or havenât asked and want to be), please lemme know. Iâm now juggling two tag lists while Tumblr eats my notifications and it sucks. And people who are on the list arenât even getting their notifications. Fucking Tumblr.
Summary/Warnings | AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 |Â Chapter 3Â | Chapter 4
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Breaking into HYDRA was about as easy as Bucky had anticipated it would be. The guard count was disgustingly low as if HYDRA couldnât make it any more obvious they were trying to bait him in. Bucky mightâve ridiculed them for that if it wasnât working. Bucky was well aware that HYDRA wasnât the idiot here. He was the one who came to get himself kidnapped.
But it was what it was. Bucky was already in, just waiting to get jumped by a halfway decent agent and not the target dummies they called guards. Once they took him to Tony, Bucky could figure out a plan there, with Tonyâs help.
Bucky wasnât sure what exactly Tonyâs reaction was going to be. He assumed there would be an annoyance, heâd probably curse Bucky out, call him all the names Bucky was already calling himself in his head. At least Bucky could say he was mostly positive Tony would help in trying to escape, even if just for the sake of self-preservation. And if he didnât, Bucky would improvise. He could handle a simple rescue mission, regardless of whether his target was willing or no.
Well, maybe not simple. But it was what it was. Bucky would rescue Tony. He just had to find him first.
Bucky was walking through the hallways, listening closely for Tonyâs staccato and out of sync heartbeat when he got jumped. Â
Five trained men. All adequately armed. Two in the front, one in the back, one on either side. Non-lethal strikes. Aiming for incapacitation.
Realistically, Bucky couldâve beaten them. Without a doubt, he couldâve. HYDRA didnât train itâs men the way theyâd trained him. Hell, Bucky probably couldâve taken double the number of men with half the weapons he was armed with. But if Bucky beat them, they wouldnât take him to Tony, and the whole point of going into the HYDRA compound wouldâve been voided.
So Bucky put up just enough fight to make it hurt, to show he was still the damned Winter Soldier, but he let the agents win. He let his body fall slack when a needle pricked his neck and the world went dark.
-
Bucky woke up in a cell. Not that he was surprised, really. At least it was better than the Chair.
âYouâre a fucking idiot.â
Bucky sat up, blinking. His armour had been stripped, weapons taken away. All Bucky wore were his boxers and a white tank top. He probably looked like shit. Not as shitty as Tony looked, though.
Tony was sitting against the wall, wearing jeans and tank top, elbow propped up on his knee. His hair was a matted mess, clothes and skin grimy. He looked like heâd been through the ringer, covered in bruises and scrapes.
Bucky opened his mouth to say something, but before he could get the words out, Tony brought his hand to his chest, pointing diagonally. Bucky followed the line of sight and found himself staring at a camera with a microphone. Right. HYDRA was listening.
Judging by the layout of the cell, Tony was sitting in the only blind spot the camera had. There was a hole in the ground Bucky assumed functioned as a toilet and a single threadbare cot. It was disgusting, even for HYDRA.
Bucky cleared his throat, and Tony arched an eyebrow. The look on Tonyâs face was one that was hard to read, eyes narrowed and mouth pulled into a hard line. He looked exasperated, annoyed, and exhausted all at the same time, with a touch something else Bucky couldnât quite grasp.
 âI wantedâŚâ Bucky cleared his throat, painfully aware of the camera in the corner of the room. âI wanted to help you.â
Tony rolled his eyes so hard Bucky saw the whites of his eyes. âYou did a real nice job of that, snowflake.â The pet name was oddly nice, under the guise of their game of charades.
Bucky scooted over to where Tony was. He was only half obscured by the camera blind spot, but that was good enough. Tony sighed and pulled himself up into Buckyâs lap, dragging them both completely into the blind spot. Well, that worked too.
âIâm sorry,â Bucky said. It was easier than heâd thought it be, faking the apologetic tone.
âYeah, well for what itâs worth, Iâm glad they didnât kill you, snowflake.â Tony put his head on Buckyâs shoulder. Bucky frowned. Tony knew they were in the blind spot, didnât he? The visual aspect of their fake relationship didnât matter.
Bucky swallowed, throat clicking. âYeah. You too.â He wrapped an awkward arm around Tony. The cell was cold, and Tonyâs clothing was inadequate. Bucky tried not to think about that too hard. He still hated Tony. For the most part, anyway.
Tony nodded and let out a loud sigh. He idly tapped his finger on Buckyâs thigh, eyes fluttering shut.
Wait. That was Morse code. Bucky focused on the rhythm with a frown.
Two guards patrol every six hours. Weâre in the eastern side of the building, likely underground. Most plausible exits on the left. Cell bars are adamantium and electric.
Bucky tilted his head to the side. He couldnât even begin to think of how Tony managed to figure all that out in the short period of time heâd been in HYDRAâs captivity. A genius would always be a genius, Bucky supposed.
Do you have an escape route planned? Bucky tapped back.
Not yet. Especially not now, considering any of my ideas were reliant on me getting myself out, not two people.
Bucky bit his lip. They havenât gotten anything out of you, have they?
Havenât even tried. Just banged me up a bit. Tony shifted a bit, curling his knees in. Iâm not their target.
I know.
Then why the hell are you here?
I wanted to help you.
Nice job on that one. You gave HYDRA exactly what they wanted. All they need now is to find someone who knows your codewords.
Weâll figure this out.
We? Tony twisted, giving Bucky a slight glare.
Bucky sighed. Look, Iâm sorry.
No, youâre not. You purposely walked into what you knew was a trap. Tony narrowed his eyes.
Was trying to help you, asshole. Bucky tapped so fast he wasnât even sure if Tony would be able to understand it.
Tony rolled his eyes. You couldnât even give me a week here to figure it out? I got out of Ten Rings, I can handle HYDRA. Tony shook his head and snorted. There are other ways to get away from Rogers, you know.
Bucky blinked. This isnât about Steve.
Is it?
Bucky scowled. Well, even a cell couldnât make Tony Stark less of an asshole. He didnât tap anything back, just looked away to glare at the floor.
Tony let out another loud sigh. âIâm going to sleep, snowflake. I love you.â
âI love you too.â Bucky forced the words out, even as they were thick in his throat.
Tony nodded, tucking his forehead into the crook of Buckyâs neck. It only took him a few minutes before his heart rate and breathing slowed. Bucky wondered if heâd gotten any sleep since he was taken.
Bucky watched Tony sleep with a tight look. Tony was⌠peaceful asleep. There wasnât the stress or tension wearing into features. Buckyâs stomach did a weird little churn, seeing Tony asleep, just because it made it apparent just how tense Tony really was. Bucky felt a bit like an asshole for not noticing before.
All in all, Bucky supposed he did understand Tony, to some extent. Even if he hated the man, he at least understood Tony. Tony was under a lot of pressure, between a rock and a hard place more often than not. He might not have always chosen the options best for Bucky or whoever else, but they always worked, however crude.
Bucky found himself stroking Tonyâs hair before he really knew what he was doing. Not that it mattered. Tony was asleep, and they were in the cameraâs blind spot. Bucky didnât have to worry about anyone else seeing. And he tried not to think about why he was doing it.
As much as Bucky wanted Tony to take the reins in planning their escape, he knew he couldnât sit back and do nothing. Itâd be a matter of time before HYDRA found someone who knew the codewords, and then Tony was as good as dead, and Bucky was even worse off. The idea of HYDRA having their poison back in Buckyâs head made him want to cry, scream, and vomit all at the same time. He needed to do something other than sit and wait for hell to come and find him.
Well, there was one thing. One thing Bucky desperately didnât want to do. Didnât want to have to explain to Tony why it mattered, why he had to do it. Itâd make no sense to someone without extensive HYDRA knowledge. Itâd sound absolutely insane. Tony might not even believe him. He could take it the wrong way, and things could go downhill for Bucky fast.
But⌠it was the best option. All personal feelings aside, it was actually rather brilliant. If the people HYDRA had watching them didnât know the codewords, they certainly wouldnât know about⌠the failsafe. With Tony and Buckyâs fake relationship, itâd actually be easier to play off, if anything, as twisted as that was.
Bucky drummed his fingers on his knee, thinking. It wouldnât be the worst thing Buckyâd ever had to do. It wouldnât even make the top ten, really. Bucky could probably make it quick too if Tony cooperated.
Bucky gave Tonyâs sleeping figure a final look and let out a resigned sigh. It would work. Now all Bucky had to do was wait for Tony to wake up.
-
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