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bratkook · 4 years ago

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eleven months. (m) myg. one.

masterlist.

pairing: min yoongi x reader genre: fluff, slow burn!!!, eventual smut, warnings: none this chapter. word count: 2.8k author’s note: this chapter is on the shorter side, just diving into them meeting and giving you all a small glimpse into them as individuals! im really excited for this story so let me know what you think, feel free to scream about anything in my inbox bye ily lmao summary: it’s been years of yoongi living his routine life, accustomed to his pace of living, going with the flow and simply existing. until you come along. yoongi absolutely can not see the logic in the way you live, but he weirdly craves it. craves the feeling of not being afraid of not knowing what’s coming, being able to just let the cards fall wherever they land. and maybe you can help with that.

Yoongi loves the rain, really he does. The way the clouds gloom over the city, encompassing it in this darkness that reminds him of underexposed film. He wishes he could always see the world through this filter, always smell the scent of wet soil and tarmac as he makes his way through the streets. Something about hearing the soft patter hitting the sidewalk, bouncing off the rooftops and dripping from the gutters calms him. A soft smile spreads across his face as he exhales the smoke in his lungs, letting the stick hang loosely off his lips while his hands clutch onto his umbrella.

When he stomps his foot into a wide puddle, the cold water splashes up onto his ankle and he grimaces. He hates being caught in the middle of rain. It didn’t matter if he had his umbrella or not, or if he managed to bundle enough for the downpour, he hates stepping into puddles and getting his socks wet. Hates how some of the raindrops that slipped under his umbrella—since it was now raining sideways—have managed to make his cigarette slightly soggy.

Pulling the cigarette out of his mouth this time, he holds it in front of his face with a frown. It was halfway done but no longer burning properly due to how wet it had become.

What a waste.

As he passes a trash can, he stubs it out fully and tosses it inside, a small pout on his face at the loss of something to fidget with. But then he sees the glowing sign inching closer, the bright neon yellow standing out in the grim weather. The illuminated Rkive360 in the distance stops him from slipping out another smoke, choosing to stuff his unoccupied hand into the pocket of his jeans, moving his legs a little faster to get to his destination.

The bell at the top of the door jingles as he stumbles in, his foot tripping over the small lip of the mat by the door. That was a safety hazard he’d playfully bitch to Namjoon about later.

“Yoongi, hey!” When he balances out, closing his umbrella and giving it a good shake by the door, he looks up and grins at Taehyung. He spots him standing by a flat spread of clothes a few feet away, folding out some new items as he stares at Yoongi with a genuine smile. His curls flop over his eyes and Yoongi chuckles to himself as he wonders how a guy like him was here folding shirts when he should probably be the face of Gucci or something.

Well, that’s life.

“Hey man,” Yoongi mumbles out, his eyes catching the plastic bin beside the door that’s labeled ‘umbrellas here’ in a messy scribble he can only attribute to Taehyung. Not needing to be told twice, he sticks his dripping umbrella upside down into it and shuffles inside the shop, taking a minute to look around like he always did.

Record stores have always been his safe space, even as a teenager. The amount of time spent in one after school, loitering inside with his friends as he sorted through the racks of CDs and vinyl, exiting with his bag of new goodies that left him excited to get home and play them. It was god sent that his best friend decided to open up his own place years ago, keeping it fully stocked with anything he could imagine. Maybe Yoongi was a little biased, but this was definitely the best shop in the country.

It’s a welcoming place, pops of color in every corner, tall standing sculptures mixed in with displays of music, autographed albums and posters framed onto the wall behind the counter. It’s the full embodiment of his best friend, down to the tiny KAWS figurines perched beside the register and the music playing through the speakers. The small melody in the background fills his ears once the door is shut, recognizing the song playing as Dang! by Mac Miller and he bobs along as he approaches Taehyung.

“Quick question,” he starts, his hands coming up to shake at his gray hair that was slightly damp from the rain. Taehyung sets the shirt down, resting both of his palms on the table as he leans towards Yoongi with interest. “Any chance you guys miraculously got Seventeen Seconds in your stock this week?”

Taehyung hums in thought, his brows furrowing together as he tries to mentally sort through the massive boxes of new vinyl Namjoon had brought in a few days ago. New shipment comes once a week but every now and then Namjoon goes out of his way to find specific records, never missing with his selection.

A small flash of blurry trees crosses his mind and then he's smiling at him. “Yeah, we actually got it the other day. Pretty sure Namjoon hunted it down for you since you’ve been asking. It should be in the back.” His thumb points behind him, towards the display tables that held all the LP’s available at the store, a very familiar spot.

Yoongi mumbles out a thanks as he makes his way over, eyes already locked onto the bin that he knew would hold his prized possession. It’s not until he gets a few feet closer that he sees your crouched frame over a box, figure slightly hidden by a giant CD rack. You’re rummaging through the records, almost making him flinch when you quickly stand back up and find their proper spot in the display. You don’t notice him approaching until he’s right beside you, eyes once again glued to the bins lined in alphabetical order once the initial shock of another person subsided.

That’s when you give him a glance, sending him a soft smile as you slip the record in its rightful spot, crouching back down to grab the next bunch. His hand pauses on the edge of the bin at the glimpse of something familiar, momentarily distracted by your shirt. When you stand back up, feeling him staring at you, you slowly turn to face him once more with your eyebrows raised up in question.

He takes note of the tag clipped to your shirt, it reads Sana but he’s used to dealing with Sana and you are definitely not her. You’re new.

The smile remains on your lips as you rest your hip against the edge of the table holding up the record bins, preparing to put your best customer service voice to use. His eyes glance at the writing on your shirt again, cracking a grin when he confirms it's a New Order shirt tucked into your black jeans. “You like New Order?”

Your smile falters slightly, your arms crossing in front of you as you narrow your eyes at him in defense, not entirely sure how to take his tone. “If you’re about to ask me to name five of their songs I’ll have to walk away to avoid getting fired.”

His smile widens at that, soft and gummy, breaking his cold appearance as his arms raise up in front of him in surrender. “No, just an observation.”

Your demeanor softens again, your arms sagging back down to your sides and smiling once more. “Good, it's my first day on the job and I’d really like to keep it.”

Yoongi chuckles softly, going back to his searching for his precious album, leaning over the third bin dedicated to bands starting with the letter C. His nimble fingers flip through the LPs until he gets to the Cure, sorting through Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me, passing Pornography until he reaches Wish and his brows furrow, flicking back and forth as if the album he wanted would magically appear.

“Need help finding something?” You speak up again when you take note of him sorting through the same chunk of vinyl. He grunts lightly, letting the stack slant back in a heap as he purses his lips.

“Yeah actually, Taehyung said you guys got the album Seventeen Seconds but I don’t see it.

You step back from reorganizing the bin labeled S, trying to remember if you had brought the record out or if it was still sitting in the second box ready to be unpacked. Your brain was already overwhelmed from all of the information you had been given on your first day, trying to unscramble the entire backroom and it’s countless boxes—most of which were unlabeled because Taehyung said it’s not necessary since he knows where everything is.

Much like Taehyung, you recall seeing a flash of the album cover when you sorted through the new box of records, knowing exactly where it was tucked away since you had been the one to store it. You were under strict orders to not put it out on the floor, because according to Namjoon, if someone else took this album you’d be attending his funeral.

“Oh, uh gimme a sec.” You shuffle away, leaving him behind as you approach Taehyung, still folding away. “Hey, Tae?”

He hums in question, turning to stare at you with a small smile. “Whats up?”

“That guy is asking for Seventeen Seconds but Namjoon told me he’d be murdered if I gave this out to anyone.”

Taehyung starts laughing instantly, setting the shirt down as he stares at a confused looking Yoongi still standing by the LP’s. “Yeah, he was saving it for him specifically.”

“Got it, okay. Thanks.” You make a beeline back to the tables at the back, passing Yoongi with a polite smile. “Be right back!” you exclaim, wagging your finger at him as you make your way towards the back room, clearly on a mission.

Yoongi just stands there as you enter the employee stock room, not trying to cross any professional lines and follow you since you have no idea who he is. It's only a few feet away and you left the door propped open so when a few minutes pass and he hears rustling, followed by a heavy sounding thud and some curse words, he can’t help but wander over and peak his head in.

“You okay?” he asks, leaning against the door frame with a smirk on his face when he sees the way you’re frozen, one foot on the ledge of the shelf and the other on a not so sturdy looking stool, caught in the act of a poorly made decision. Below you lay two brown boxes that carry shirts you’re meant to unpack later, definitely the cause of the loud thud he had heard.

“Yep,” you confirm as you pluck out the record you need, shoving the box back into its safe spot and hopping down haphazardly. “Here you go.”

Grabbing the record carefully, he flips it over to skim the track list and smiles widely when he looks back up at you. That familiar warmth fills his chest as he holds the new item, making him feel the same way he had as a teenager when he bought his first LP. He had been searching for this vinyl for months now. It wasn’t as if it was no longer in production, he just couldn’t seem to find it in stock anywhere he looked and buying it internationally was the last resort he would take since the shipping fees were downright illegal. “Thanks.”

You’re already hunched down on the floor as you open up one of the boxes that had fallen in your haste to scale the shelves, deciding to just unpack in now since you were here.

“Yeah, no problem. Tae can ring you up at the front.” Sending him off with a smile and a wave, he takes that as his cue to exit, making his way to the front again.

When he leaves the backroom you flop onto your butt with a huff, your legs sprawling out with the second box in between them. You were hoping your words didn’t come across as rude to him but you couldn’t take the way his sharp eyes stared at you. Had he lingered any longer you would have embarrassed yourself, it was a miracle your footing hadn’t slipped on your way down from the shelves. You can’t imagine your ego being able to recover from a tumble like that.

Taehyung spots Yoongi leaning against the front counter, setting the final shirt down and going to stand behind it with a smile. “Did you find everything okay?” he asks automatically, the general phrases they had to use coming out without a thought and Yoongi scoffs, sliding the record across the counter and nodding.

“Of course I did, you let Namjoon know that I said your customer service is unmatched.” His finger gently rubs against the first black KAWS figurine, smiling at the remaining four as he remembers how Namjoon had excitedly told him that this was their friend group, representing them all perfectly.

Taehyung grins with a roll of his eyes, scanning the album and slipping it into the brown paper bag they provided. “Wonderful. Your total is 40,000 won.”

“Wow, your customer service voice is phenomenal.”

Taehyung laughs now, his nose crinkling up at Yoongi's sarcastic tone, watching how Yoongi grins back at him, succeeding in getting him to crack. “Fuck you, man.”

“Ah, there he is.” Yoongi hums with a chuckle as he pulls out his wallet, sorting through his bills and handing them to Taehyung. “Who’s New Order girl?”

Tae raises his brows as he enters the amount into the POS, the drawer popping open against his hips. “Oh, Y/N?” Yoongi only shrugs, you had Sana’s name tag on so how the hell should he know.

Taehyung stuffs the money into the drawer and slams it shut, ripping off the receipt from the machine and slipping it into the bag. “She just started today, can’t remember where she moved from, some place far though.” He shrugs as he hands the bag over to Yoongi.

The older boy ruffles his damp hair up, accepting the bag with his right hand. “Oh, cool. Well thanks, I’ll see you guys later then?” Taehyung just waves him off with a smile, similar to the way you did and he laughs to himself when he realizes Taehyung must be the one in charge of training you.

As he approaches the front door he pulls out his pack of cigarettes once more, sliding one out and slipping it between his lips. He finds himself looking towards the back of the shop again, seeing you resuming your organization, but your head lifts up as you feel him staring at you from his spot at the door. The spark of his lighter flashes across his face when he lights up his smoke, opening his umbrella once more now that he's partially outside. When your eyes meet, he smiles around the stick, giving you a nod before turning and walking back out into the rain.

You watch as his figure disappears down the street, his dark silhouette blending in with the rest of the people roaming the city, and when you can no longer see him through the store window you turn towards Taehyung. He’s stood at the POS, fidgeting with the screen, but when you call his name he glances up at you. “Is he a regular?”

He nods in response, eyes going back to stare at the screen as he begins to print out a sheet to fulfill the online orders the store received. “Yeah, he comes in at least once a week. Buys strictly vinyl. I think Namjoon mentioned he’s a music producer, or maybe it was a DJ, I can’t remember.”

Taehyung evidently doesn’t have the best memory, that much had been made clear in the short span you’ve known him. He had forgotten your name twice during your interview, Namjoon having to subtly repeat it for him, he had also asked you three times where you were from and at first you thought he was joking but when his face remained serious you realized he had really forgotten already.

“Hey, where’d you move from again?” he asks one more, genuinely curious as if you hadn’t told him a handful of times already.

“I told you, Iceland.” It’s a lie, but when he hums in thought—pretending to suddenly remember—you chuckle at the newfound way to mess with him.

He’s quick to start questioning you about Iceland, nodding along to the lies you spill while you both go back to your tasks of sorting albums and folding shirts. It makes your first full shift eventful, passing jokes back and forth as the sky grows gloomier. As distracting as your conversations get, you can’t help but glance up through the windows whenever a dark clad figure walks by, the thought of the sharp eyed stranger lingering in your mind.

#min yoongi #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #bts fics #bts imagines #new #btswritingcafe #btsghostie #heartsforbts #bangtaninn #btscreatorscorner

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imaginingsoftly · 3 years ago

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Apartment 352 Pt. 2 - Erik Johnson

Type: strangers-lovers

Requested: no

Warnings: blood, cuts and scrapes

A/N: Hopefully this redeems Erik a little bit for you guys :)

Day two of unpacking was marginally better than the first, if only because Emma’s giant of a neighbor hadn’t been around to witness her trip on the top step yet again that morning. She was still nursing a slightly sore and bruised knee a few hours later, when the next big dangerous task came up; hanging a couple of pictures. The task itself shouldn’t have been dangerous, but the frames were big enough she was going to need to stand on a chair to hang them up high. Emma took a deep breath, hauled up the heavy frame, and took a step onto the chair.

It took seconds for things to go wrong. Her back foot caught on the arm of the chair as Emma stepped up, and she immediately slipped sideways into the shelf right next to her ribcage. The frame smashed on the wall, and Emma felt pain in her forearm as a shard of glass nicked her.

There wasn’t time to do anything except brace herself. The shelf crashed to the ground, taking the ugly-ass plates from her aunt and a framed picture of her best friend with it. Emma wobbled on the chair, but kept her balance. “Shit,” she mumbled to the wall. Shards of glass from the picture frame and pieces of the ceramic plates littered the ground around the chair, and the radius of the shards was too far to jump. There was maybe enough space for her to step around them, but in bare feet Emma wasn’t looking forward to the prospect.

A pounding at Emma’s door almost made her fall off the chair. A muffled voice came from behind the door. “You good?” She heaved a sigh. Of course Erik would be the one to find her like this.

“Door’s unlocked! Come in!” He was inside before she’d even finished talking. It took a full ten seconds, she counted, before he moved from the entryway. Emma shifted uncomfortably on the chair as he took in her appearance, from her bare feet to the disheveled mess of her hair. It was only when he looked in the direction of her legs that she realized they were bare except for where the hem of her oversized t-shirt just covered her underwear. For approximately the thousandth time since she’d met Erik, Emma cursed her clumsiness. She shifted uncomfortably as Erik continued to stand completely still. It wasn’t until she began to step down from the chair gingerly, looking for a safe space to put her bare feet, that he moved.

No giant should be able to move as quickly as he did. Erik took three long strides to reach her, glass and ceramic crunching under his sneakered feet. “Don’t you dare.” His words were a warning, and Emma froze. Huge hands, warm and strong, slid around her shoulders and behind her knees. Erik lifted her into his arms gently, and she automatically clenched her arms around his neck. “Angel, I think I’m gonna have to wrap you in bubble wrap to keep you safe.” Erik’s voice, low and gravelly as it was in the moment, rumbled through his chest and Emma could feel it against her torso where their bodies touched. She wasn’t even going to think about the way her stomach fluttered at the nickname.

Erik carried her clear of the mess on her floor, only placing her on the ground once they were several feet away. For a split second it felt like he pulled her tighter into his chest, but then her feet were on the ground and he was stepping back slightly. “You okay?” Erik’s hands settled on the tops of her arms as he spoke, and his eyes scanned her body quickly. She opened her mouth to confirm that she was fine when his gaze settled on her forearm. “Sweetheart, you’re bleeding.” Emma looked down, and sure enough the nick she’d felt was actually a sizeable cut. Blood ran down her arm at a slightly higher volume than a trickle. It probably should have been more concerning than it was, but Emma’s thoughts were more on the fact that Erik hadn’t ever actually called her by her name. It was always ‘sweetheart’ or ‘angel’. Come to think of it, maybe she hadn’t ever actually told him her name. Who does that? He had been in her apartment, for fucks’ sake.

“Where’s your bathroom?” Erik’s voice cut through her thoughts, and Emma pointed mutely. He caught the hand on her good arm in a gentle grip and pulled her across the living room. “C’mon. Let’s get you cleaned up.” Emma felt like putty in Erik’s hands as he moved her around, gently lifting her onto the counter and maneuvering her arm under the faucet. The water ran pink, and Emma closed her eyes. Of all the things to defeat her, it just had to be blood. A cool hand settled on her cheek as her brain went a little fuzzy. “Hey. Stay with me sweetheart. You good?”

Emma shook her head. “Don’t like blood,” she rasped through a bone-dry throat. “I’m okay.” The cool hand slipped from her cheek to the back of her head, and Erik put gentle pressure there.

“Lean on me. Don’t look, I’ll clean you up.” Emma followed the press of Erik’s hand, leaning her forehead into his shoulder. “Atta girl. I’ve got you.” His voice rumbled through his chest, and Emma felt it where her shoulder and good arm touched his side.

Any of the lingering irritation she’d felt towards him over yesterday was gone. If anything, Emma now had a soft spot for her next-door neighbor. “It’s Emma.” Erik’s hands stilled from where they were rinsing out her arm for a split second before starting up again. “I just realized I never actually told you my name.”

The sound of a bottle opening and liquid splashing registered seconds before Emma felt a slight sting on her cut. “Emma.” She shivered at the sound of Erik’s gravelly voice saying her name. “Short and sweet. Suits you.” She felt his smile against the top of her head. “I don’t think you need stitches, but I am going to put a band-aid and some bacitracin on this. Don’t want you to get an infection or anything.”

Emma nodded into Erik’s shoulder. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Erik said nothing as he finished patching up her arm, but then she felt an arm come around her back and tug her torso closer into Erik’s chest. “Don’t mention it, Angel. Just promise me you won’t hang things barefoot anymore?”

That was an easy thing to agree to. Emma nodded. “You keep seeing me at my worst,” she mumbled into Erik’s chest grumpily. At this rate, he was going to see her drastically injure herself by the end of the first week. She stiffened against his chest at the thought. What was next? A grease fire? Falling down the stairs? Cutting a finger off while cooking?

Her doomsday thoughts were interrupted by a slight tug on her hair. “Hey. Your thoughts are so loud I can practically hear them. If this is your worst, I’m almost afraid to see how incredible you are at your best.”

Emma leaned back to see Erik smirking at her. “Are you flirting with me?” His smirk became a full-on grin.

“Been flirting with you the whole damn time, Angel, you just didn’t catch on.” Emma gaped at her neighbor as he stepped back, instantly lamenting the loss of his warmth. “Now that you’ve got that figured out, dinner Saturday?” She cocked her head at him choosing a day three days in advance, and he shrugged. “Figured I’d be a good guy and let you get settled before I sweep you off your feet.”

That was it. Emma barked out a laugh, and Erik looked far too proud of himself. “Yeah, Casanova, you can take me out Saturday.” Not that she’d ever let him actually get somewhere with her. She slid off the counter, and Erik was immediately there with an arm out to steady her when she stumbled slightly. As infuriating as her new neighbor was, she couldn’t help but find him adorable too.

He walked out of the bathroom, and Emma took a second to settle her legs before she tried to walk. The blood really had thrown her off, and she needed to take a couple of deep breaths. By the time Emma made it back out into her living room, Erik was already picking up the large chunks of glass littering her entryway. “You don’t have to-” Emma stopped when he held up a hand.

“I don’t mind helping you clean this up. Besides, some of this stuff has blood on it. I don’t want you to get woozy and step on glass.” His words were slightly domineering, but also sweet. “You’re still barefoot; can you grab me your vacuum without stepping near the glass?” Erik glanced backwards at her, nodding when she gestured in the direction of her bedroom. “Grab that for me, and then I’ll get out of your hair.”

Emma took a deep breath as she stepped into her bedroom. It had been a long time since she’d had anyone looking out for her, especially a potential romantic interest. Her last boyfriend hadn’t even cared when she spent a night in the hospital, let alone if she stepped on a piece of glass.

She stepped back out of her room with her vacuum in hand. “I can vacuum this stuff up, Erik, you don’t have to worry about it.”

Erik looked over from where he stood by her trash can and pinned her with a glare. “I said I’d help you clean this shit up, and I’m going to do what I said.” Emma opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand. “I know you don’t need my help and you are perfectly capable of doing it yourself, but I want to do this for you.” His face softened. “Sweetheart, in the two days I’ve known you you’ve fallen up the stairs at least once, taken out a shelf, and sliced the shit out of your arm. It seems like you’re having a rough week, and I want to make it a little easier. Can you let me do that?”

Damn him, he was saying everything right. Emma sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. He smiled gently and reached out a hand for the vacuum. “Thank you, Angel.”

She stood back and watched Erik vacuum up the area around her chair, carefully lifting the chair and the corner of the area rug to make sure he got everything. He even wrapped up the cord when he was finished. “Thank you,” Emma mumbled. Her neighbor flashed a smile in her direction before stalking towards her.

“Saturday.” He ran a thumb across her cheekbone, smiling again. “Try not to end up in a hospital or anything before then, yeah?”

Emma smacked Erik’s arm as he let out a bark of laughter. He was still laughing as he strode towards her front door, and Emma could hear him chuckling to himself even from the hallway.

#apartment 352 #erik johnson imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

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mooniefics · 4 years ago

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— a life in your shape

pairing : jean kirschtein / reader

word count : 2.5k

tags : unrequited love, pining, near death experience, confession of love, hurt no comfort lol

warnings : canon-typical violence, descriptions of injury to the reader

summary : you've always wanted it, always pictured it, always ached for it. you loved when jean looked you way. all you'd ever wanted was a life with him, not just a life in his shape.

— originally posted 1 / 22 / 21 on ao3 —

the mess hall was buzzing with life, rowdy with the chatter of dozens of cadets seated at long tables and speaking through swallows of their food. glasses were lifted and set down, bowls and plates clinking, utensils scraping sharply over various surfaces, nearly so loud that you could barely hear yourself think. but it all seemed to come to an abrupt silence when you settled your eyes back on him, taking in his formerly pale complexion now bronzy and sun-kissed from your hours of training, the annoyed yet playful glances he shot to connie and sasha as he worked through his soup and bread, full lips forming words that you couldn’t quite focus.

you were almost embarrassed of how smitten you were with jean, but in your mind, you couldn't understand how anyone wouldn't be taken with him. his thin frame had filled out with lean muscle in the year and a half that you'd been training together in the 104th corp, somehow managing to grow even taller than he already was on that first day, still so spirited with his persistence to be among the best of this class, a lively spark that never seemed to dampen gleaming behind his eyes.

"oh god, this again, jean?" you heard connie bemoan exaggeratedly, pulling you from the trance that you were surprised the other three at the table hadn't taken notice of.

jean was almost pouting now, and you would've found it so endearing had it not been the next words to spill from his mouth, indignant and full of tenacity. "don't be an ass, i've been trying to figure out a good excuse to sit with her for days now."

you followed his gaze despite knowing exactly who you'd find his eyes locked on, and forced yourself not to frown when you were met with the sight of mikasa just a few tables away.

"she's out of your league, man. not to mention having a thing for jaeger already, and not to mention that jaeger wouldn't hesitate to hand your ass to you again if you pissed him off like you always do. cut it out."

"connie, that's mean!" sasha feigned offense on jean's behalf, most likely for the sake of goading the reply that came as a distraction to snatch the remainder of bread from his plate.

"i'm just being honest with him here. he's asking for advice, so i gave him some. jean always talks about being realist and yet he— hey is that my food?!"

you turned away just as connie was lunging himself across the table, hearing the sounds of his fruitless efforts to tear the loaf from the girl's mouth, propping yourself up on your elbows and allowing your head to fall into your hands with a heavy sigh.

"what do you think?" in an instant, jean's eyes were on you, amber irises looking so intently at you that you could already feel a bothersome heat flushing your face. but registering his question sobered you, and stealing a glance at the beautiful dark-haired girl seated somewhere to your left was all in took to snuff out the light flutter in your chest.

"i don't know, jean. i think connie's kind of right about the whole eren thing." you were honest with him on a surface level, but it still didn't feel good to see him frown when you told him something he obviously didn't want to hear. you tried to remedy it by offering something more introspective—something a bit more true to your heart. "what i mean is that.. i think you're selling yourself short. mikasa obviously has her sights set elsewhere at the moment, and i just think you deserve someone who can bring the same sort of.." you struggled with your words for a moment, how could you not when he was leaning forward like that, listening so intently to you and you alone. "the same sort of passion. someone who can reciprocate." someone like me. but you bit those foolish words back.

"you understand, don't you?" he implored, looking past the bickering mess that sasha and connie had devolved to and gazing with such longing in the other girl's direction, "i mean.. i've never seen anyone like her, no one as beautiful.." each word gouged at your heart, a cold, empty sensation that left your chest feeling painfully hollow. "i know you're a girl, but you can see it too, right?"

you could see it, you were painfully aware of how you could never match up to her unfamiliar yet alluring features, that graceful, slender frame that could somehow soar through the air with ease and still thrown you down onto your back so hard it would knock the wind out of you, introversion that gave off such a charming air of mystery to her admirers.

"yeah," you mumbled back, ignoring how a huffing connie fell heavily back into his seat beside jean, defeated, sasha happily gulping down her unfairly earned chunk of bread, only taking notice of how jean was too fixated on mikasa to pay your dismay any mind, "i see it alright."

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

the air was thick with an unrelenting heat, stinking of steam and coppery with fresh blood, your vision fading in and out. your head was ringing with a deafening, high pitched peal and such an unbearable, crippling pain. you could feel your boots dragging across the hot dry dirt as something tugged you back by the collar of your shirt, and the terror of a titan with its misshaped limbs and mouth hauling you to your demise made you thrash aimlessly, screams for help spilling out as a disjointed groan of pain. and though it almost sounded as if you were underwater, sinking further and further beneath the lapping waves of your impending unconscious, you heard it, muffled, desperate, thick with tears, your name spilling from his lips.

and suddenly you remembered, you remembered the kidnapping and the unfaithful comrades and the mission to save humanity's last hope, your former friend now an almost unrecognizable abomination with ymir, bertholdt, and eren sitting atop his shoulders, clasped in his monstrous hands, that had now resorted to flinging titans in his primal desperation for escape. and as you blinked away the spots blacking out your vision, head lolling uselessly to the side, you could see your horse, half crushed in a puddle of red on the yellow grass, and realized that the warmth streaming down the side of your face is your own blood.

"jean..?" you mumbled, uselessly, barely coherent, but the near sob of relief from behind you is like an anchor back to reality.

you could see his calves on either side of you, feet kicking up clouds of dust as he pushed you both back, further from the fray and carnage, as far as he could muster. one of your blade scabbards was missing, you could feel that the clip on your gas tank had snapped off in your spectacular fall caused by the titan that was flung down in your path, irreparable damage most likely made to the fine mechanisms within the housing of your gear. you felt utterly hopeless, watching as the shade of a tree just barely shielded you from the blazing light of the sinking sun, hearing jean's gasping pants from behind you, feeling how rapidly his chest was rising and falling against the back of your head as you slumped into his body, leaden limbs weighing you down uselessly.

"jean." you wheezed, trying desperately to crane your heavy head back to meet his eyes one last time, eyes that no longer harbored the naive passion of youth but still gleamed so radiantly, "leave me.. here. you're g'nna— gonna die.. if you stay..."

you could feel his violent trembles now, feel him rip his green cloak from his shoulder to press against the throbbing wound on your head. "no. i-i'm staying. i n-n-need," he was scared, you knew he was terrified of allowing what happened to marco to happen to you, or sasha, or connie, or anybody, even if the boy's death was nowhere near his fault, "i need to s-save you."

but you could also feel something else—feel it coming—the terrible, earth trembling footfalls of a titan making a shambling, uncoordinated advance to you and the scent of your blood. and suddenly jean was screaming, a sound so raw and petrified that you couldn't help but cry yourself at the sound of it. he laid you down on the ground, bunched cloak pillowing your bleeding skull, unable to push himself to his feet but still drawing his last blade to swing at the thing coming to kill you both, covering your battered body with his own.

and in that moment, you hated yourself. though your head was swimming and your lucidity was waning, you knew that you would both die there, under the baking sun and in the jaws of a titan, and it would be your fault. every regret that you'd ever harbored flooded your mind: not hugging your mother long enough when you still had the chance, not drinking that liquor when squad leader hange had offered it to you, and, most of all, never having the bravery to be honest with jean.

and you mourned all that lost time in those final moments, every late night you'd spent as trainees under the stars when you and your friends would sneak out of the dormitories to talk at some ungodly hour, every shared meal where you didn't speak nearly enough to him, every second of the crushing embraces you'd offered each other when the thought of your fallen friends caught up to you and proved to be far too much to handle on your own. how could you have done so much yet so little with your life?

and just as the titan was stumbling upon you, jean's scream of terror dampening out into a faithless cry, the thing was gone, galloping away to join a newly assembled horde descending upon one single point on the plain. but somehow, you felt no relief, not as you reached out a weak, trembled hand to grasp the blood and dirt streaked fabric of his shirt.

and as he turned to you, eyes still wide and body shaking with horror, thrumming with the adrenaline of near-death, you whispered, hoarse and tired as your grasp on the world slipped away. "i love you, jean. i love you."

your eyes fell shut, the involuntary spiral down further and further into the deep waters of unconsciousness pulling you in deeper and deeper by the second. you were grateful that you at least got to say something meaningful as your last words.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

there was a bright light, delicate, billowing fabric flouncing about in your bleary gaze as your eyes barely opened, something wrapped tight around your head, not making the pressure of the pounding headache any better. you couldn't fight the groan that even the small movement of turning onto your back caused, but you tried to force your lids open just an inch more at the sound of a gasp coming from somewhere in the room.

there were fast footsteps, a few shouts of "sasha, no!" and then a crushing weight on your chest, squeezing around you, pulling you up in bed as a tearful sob of your name came from a comfortingly familiar voice.

"sasha. please. h-hurts." you barely managed to croak out, feeling yourself been torn free—or rather, her torn away—as connie yelled.

"get off them, you moron, they're fucking injured!!"

"i'm s-s-sorry!" she wailed, allowing herself to be dragged to the door by the disgruntled boy, "i'm j-just so happy you're s-s-still alive!!!"

"and i am too, but that doesn't mean i'm gonna go throw myself on top of them while they're in the hospital!"

their bickering was almost comforting in a way, allowing the strain in your chest from sasha's hug to ease as you watched them elbow each other in the sides on their way out of the room to take their loudness out into the hall, blowing raspberries and struggling to not laugh through their feigned anger. and finally your gaze was allowed to wander over to the furthest wall from your bed, and you saw jean, staring down at his shoes, brow furrowed and lip bitten. and he seemed almost startled to find yourself in his gaze, feet slowly taking him to your side.

"i owe you my life, you know?" you said as he settled himself on the edge of the mattress, still not meeting your gaze.

"you don't owe me anything. you shouldn't feel in debt to me."

"but i do," you risked to settle your hand over his, finally drawing his worried, amber eyes onto yours, and you could feel your heart beginning to pick up, the butterflies that you had always forced to settle with a pessimistic thought to squash your optimism light in your chest, "i meant what i said before i passed out in the field. i always have."

and for just a moment, you thought that this was finally it, that you would no longer have to languish over wasted time and wasted words, fingers just barely curling around his warm palm. then, a knock at the door, light and delicate before the handle turned, pushing open to reveal mikasa.

and you caught every small movement of jean's features, the way his eyes sparked with a familiar light, the sudden, faint flush of color across his slender face, lips parting and just barely perking up at the ends. an endless, unwavering adoration.

"eren is awake, if you'd like to talk to him." that was all she had peeked in to say, but jean was still gazing at the door for a moment too long after she'd left.

"u-um.. if you don't mind—"

"go ahead." you told him, gently, pulling your hand away, retreating as far as your body could into the mattress, under the covers, turning your gaze away.

and though he'd slowly, almost nervously exited your room, you could hear the clear pick-up in his pace as soon as he'd shut the door behind him and exited into the hall, probably rushing to try and catch mikasa for a moment alone in the hallway before he had to share her attention with everyone else.

and it hurt, like a blade buried between your ribs, being jerked and twisted with every memory of his affinity, the one that was never directed at you despite how you craved it. and you'd realized that you had melded a life in his shape, a life where you were always just a few steps too far behind, hand outstretched, reaching for him as you hurried to grasp at any minuscule opportunity to be with him, speak to him, hear his laugh and see his near blinding smiles that never seemed to last long enough to you.

but, perhaps one day, someday farther into the future. and if not then, maybe in another life.

#jean kirstein #jean kirschtein x you #jean kirstein x you #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtein angst #jean kirstein angst #snk x reader #snk x you #aot x reader #aot x you #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction

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alottanothing · 3 years ago

Text

Kismet

Summary: Evie prepares a meal for the stranger who helped her and finds herself more than a little smitten.

Previous Part: Hope

Word Count: 5707

Warnings: Language

Tag List: @ramilicious, @txmel, @edteche2, @gloriousdarkangelsworld, @diasimar, @xmxisxforxmaybe (Let me know if I missed you, or if you would like to be added to the tag list)

A/N: Okay, I almost didn't get this up today because I was up most of the night sewing kilts for Highland Weekend at the Ohio Renfiare. BUT I stayed awake and did my final read-through, so this should be mostly okay. I skipped a couple steps in my editing to get this up on time but I think, for the most part, it's okay. If you see a grammatical booboo, just ignore it, I'll get in here sometime this week with my other two editing steps and find it, then repost this. Capisce? Okay, cool...now. I hope you enjoy it, I also hope my trying to phonetically write Mer's accent doesn't get too annoying. I know you really shouldn't write accents, but I think it helps add to the characters. And I do try to keep it to a minimum so it doesn't get annoying. Thanks for the love the first part received last month! I know waiting so long between updates is a bit sad after weekly updates with LtR. But life is busy right now and once a month is all can guarantee.

Jonny did not know how to keep a house.

In fact, Jonny did not know how to do much more than drink, argue, and get into fights. He was nothing but a thorn in Evie's side—never mind how much she needed him for a place to lay her head. A necessary thorn was still a thorn. Given the opportunity, she would rip it out as soon as she could and dress the wound promptly so she was finally able to heal better. She stayed only because she had no other choice. And every time Jonny raised his voice or stumbled in reeking of alcohol and red-faced, Evie could hear her best friend's warning in her head. Cynthia had begged her not to go with him, but she hadn't listened.

Oh, how she wished she had.

Luckily, Jonny wasn't the kind of man who liked to stay home which eased the ache of the ever-present thorn in her side. Whatever money he did have, he spent out on the town—the town being New Orleans. Like Evie, Jonny had been born and raised in the Big Apple, the noise and the chaos was part of him. As such, he hadn't taken to the quiet suburban life Bridge City offered as well as Evie. She liked the quiet, easy flow of the sleepy town. Her housemate loathed his new home. He thrived in disarray, thus, he found a group of like-minded young men to run amok with in the neighboring metropolis every chance he got.

If Jonny had been any sort of amicable company, the notion of him leaving most every night to wreak havoc several miles away would have been upsetting. Thankfully, his penchant for city life meant a good portion of Evie's days were spent out from under Jonny's tyranny. The hours he was gone were blissful and calm, and she relished in them. Whether she was creating art or tending to chores around the old house, Evie didn't care as long as Jonny wasn't there—never mind how lonely the routine often was.

Evie had never gotten the chance to meet Jonny's maternal grandmother, though she suspected she would have liked to. Unlike her grandson, she seemed like any other sweet elderly woman judging by the furnishings she'd left behind. There were dozens of lace doilies, and table cloths with soft patterns, decretive china even, but it was the plethora of photos the old woman kept that told Evie she'd carried a kindly heart. All of them were kept in pristine albums or intricate frames; they were the only barbles that seemed to have been cleaned or dusted with any regularity which spoke of how much she must have treasured them. Evie loved those tiny trinkets and black and white memories. It didn't matter that they were not her legacy of family heirlooms to keep, she adored them anyway.

She couldn't count the number of times she'd replaced a broken frame that had fallen victim to Jonny's drunken belligerence or scrubbed tirelessly at a stain he'd left on the patterned tablecloths. It proved to be a hefty undertaking, but dwelling in the fantasies of someone else's history let her forget the grief of her own. She was willing to sacrifice a little elbow grease if it allowed her mind to roam away from the shadow that never really seemed to vanish.

For all the effort Evie put in on the interior, the cottage held little in the way of curb appeal. The porch was sunken in the middle, the paint was peeling off in chunks, and the yard was mostly weeds. Worst, however, was the screen door which squeaked so loudly, every dog in the neighborhood howled in protest every time someone crossed the threshold. The outside needed love that Evie simply didn't have the energy to lend. Despite the grit, however, the foundations were sturdy enough that she didn't worry. The cottage proved to be stronger than she looked—a feat Evie felt she had in common with the old house. And while it was a swell enough place to rest her head, it never truly felt like home. Home was somewhere safe, and as long as Jonny lived under that roof she wasn't safe. Not really.

Fortunately, Jonny wasn't home when Evie returned after her run-in with Mr. Shelton—Mer, she corrected herself with a hint of a giddy smile. Without her housemate there, her evening promised to be hopeful instead of lonely, and she wasted no time in figuring out what to make for dinner.

With her red pumps replaced by her worn-in slippers and her blue checkered apron secured around her waist, she set a pot of water to boil and dialed the phone conveniently located in the kitchen. Every evening she called her sister-in-law to pass the time and keep up on unimportant gossip back home; this time, however, Evie was excited to finally have some good news to share.

"You got the job, didn't you?" Cynthia Clarke asked on the other end, sounding hopeful. "I knew you would."

Evie grinned, still amazed how the sound of Cyn's voice always seemed to settle some of the ever-present anxieties buzzing in her head. She missed her friend so much.

"I didn't even say yes."

"Did you or did you not get the job?" Cynthia pressed.

"I did," Evie confirmed and her smile grew hearing her friend cheer on the other end of the phone.

"See! I knew it." Cynthia said. "My gut feeling is always right."

Evie rolled her eyes and shook her head fondly.

"I think I'm gonna like working there too, so that's good." she mused as she stood at the stove, eyeing the pot of water she’d set to boil.

"That's so great, Ev. I'm so proud of you." Cynthia paused before continuing. "So, what are you up to tonight? Avoiding Jonny?"

"Sorta," Evie nodded even though she knew her friend wouldn't see.

As she continued to watch her cooking pot of water she told Cynthia all about her trouble with Jonny's car and the man who'd been so kind to help her.

"Wait. You invited the stranger over who fixed the car?" Concern was heavy in Cyn's voice, and Evie half expected a lecture to follow.

Despite knowing each other since childhood, Cynthia had taken on the role of her protector since Evie's family was no longer in the picture. The war had claimed Evie's father, and brother—although they'd never found her brother, Jimmy after he disappeared behind enemy lines. Evie never lost hope that Jimmy would one day be found, Cynthia though, was certain her husband was never coming home. After Cyn’s brother, Charlie, died at Normandy Cynthia had difficulty believing anyone was going to make it home. As for Evie's mother, losing a child and her husband to the war was too much for her tender heart and she passed not long after. Ever since, Cynthia was overcome with the need to act as Evie's guardian.

"He wouldn't let me pay him," Evie explained. "So I'm making him dinner—it seemed like the least I could do."

"I suppose…." Cynthia didn't sound convinced, if anything she sounded slightly irritated there was no quick way for her to argue the logic. "Just be careful, Evie. You don't know this guy—he could be another Jonny Doyle. Or worse."

"He's not," Evie said quickly. She wanted nothing more than to tell her friend all about how benevolent Mer was, but she decided against it. Cynthia would only argue that point somehow.

A long pause followed, and Evie wedged the receiver between her ear and shoulder so her hands were free to work on the meal.

"So, what are you cooking?" This time, there was a hint of jest in her friend's tone when she spoke.

The art of cooking was one creative outlet that Evie struggled with, second only to music. In her youth, her mother did all the cooking—it was a passion of her mother's—thus Evie had done little more than watch in wonder as her mother whipped up meal after meal effortlessly. Breakfast she the meal she was probably best at, apple pies too, but anything beyond that Evie required a step by step guide to prepare. And even then she lacked confidence. Thankfully, when she'd fled south, she remembered to grab her mother's cookbook. It was a cumbersome tome with yellowed pages and notes scribbled into the margins: a piece of art itself cultivated over years of collecting recipe after recipe starting the moment her mother stepped off the boat that brought her from Ireland. And like a witch and her spellbook, Evie depended on it.

"Spaghetti with garlic bread," Evie admitted feeling as though the meal lacked a certain something.

Pasta was something she knew held a low degree of difficulty when it came to preparing. Surely she couldn't mess up pasta.

“Mmm, I can almost smell it,” Cynthia said.

“Shut up.”

“No, seriously,” Cyn replied. “You’re mom’s spaghetti recipe was always my favorite.”

A doleful smile pulled at the corners of her lips, thinking back to her mother happily cooking in the kitchen as she sang a Celtic tune. It seemed strange that those moments would never again play out, instead they’d become bittersweet memories Evie could only relive in her mind.

“Mine too,” she murmured, suddenly missing her family.

Neither of them said anything for a moment, and Evie’s mind roamed the dregs of her grief before blinking back into reality and the hope of something happy to come.

“I need to go, Cyn,” Evie told her friend with a sigh. “I don’t want to burn the garlic bread.”

Cynthia chuckled and said her goodbye, only after making Evie promise to call her in the morning to let her know how everything went.

With her second hand restored after hanging up, Evelyn reached for her mother’s cookbook to give the steps another look over to ensure she had done everything and added every herb and ingredient she was supposed to. She’d followed everything perfectly, even factoring in the little notes scribbled into the margins left there by her mother—those she smiled at fondly and traced the fading ink with her fingers. Everything was as it should be. Even so, without a taste, Evie knew the sauce she had prepared would never be as savory as what her mother made so effortlessly.

“You were the artist in the kitchen, Ma,” she said with a shrug. “I’ll stick to paper and canvas.”

For the smallest of a moment Evie thought she would hear the warmth of her mother’s laugh, and when it never came she sighed again, trying not to dwell on the shadows behind her. What mattered was the light ahead.

Despite her lack of confidence, the meal came together without any severe hiccups. The noodles were not overcooked, the sauce was a complementing mix of savory and sweet (though, as she had guessed after a tiny taste, was not nearly as good as her mother's) and the garlic bread was nicely golden. A small tingle of pride manifested in the form of a surprised, but satisfied, smile as she surveyed the dinner before her.

“Not bad, Ev,” she told herself, knowing her mother would have been delighted.

With the cooking done, Evie threw a glance over her shoulder to the clock mounted on the wall, triggering a surge of anxiety to bubble in her gut. Stranger, perhaps, was the amount of excitement coursing through her veins. It was as though all of her happiness was riding on whether or not she would see Merriell again. None of it made sense; the man was little more than a stranger. The coupling of nerves and delight was not a feeling that put her ill at ease, however. She trusted it. And it was that peculiar sensation that seemed to fuel her movements.

With a few minutes to spare, Evie wandered into the small bathroom to freshen up. She made sure her hair was still pinned the way she liked—up and pretty. Her make-up was holding up nicely despite the heat; all she needed was a fresh layer of lipstick to complete the illusion of a put-together young lady. It wasn't often she wore a dress with heels and a face of cosmetics—she liked to when the opportunity arose, but she was just as comfortable in a pair of old overalls and smudges of charcoal on her face.

Just as she wiggled back into her red pumps—discarding her worn-in house slippers with a couple of calculated kicks—a knock on the door signaled Merriells arrival. Immediately a grin curled onto Evie's lips and her heart began to pound an anxious-excited rhythm. A blush threatened to color her cheeks to give away the torrid muscle beating in her chest—her ever yearning heart already making leaps and bounds for a man she had known for mere hours.

Don't be ridiculous—she warned herself taking in a deep breath to curb the eagerness coursing in her veins. Untying her apron, she tossed it along with her discarded slippers and went to answer the door, taking one last deep breath to steady the fervor in her heart.

Merriell had changed and showered. The sweet bouquet of his shampoo coupled invitingly with the musk of the aftershave he'd chosen, making it difficult for Evie to keep from soaking in the scent he carried. His curls were still somewhat damp—too much moisture in the air to keep the heat from drying them on his way over—though they fought to spring back into their previous fluff. The grease-covered, jeans he'd been wearing had been replaced by a nice pair of tan slacks, and the buttoned shirt he wore was a soft shade of green that made his eyes glitter a deeper emerald as he stood under the glow of the porch light. All Evie could do was stare—utterly beguiled—every rational thought in her head lost to her.

Mer smirked, amused by her ogling. "Hiya."

Evie blinked, coming back to reality, suddenly feeling foolish, and uttered a nervous "hi" before swinging her arm to invite him inside.

"Come in."

Merriell's smile grew as he crossed the threshold, inhaling deeply. "Mm, smells tasty in here."

He gently forced a bottle into her hands as he passed on his way to investigate the savory smells in the kitchen.

"I wasn' sho what ya was makin', but I figured wine usually goes with anythin'."

"Oh, thank you." Evie glanced at the label, unable to read the French words printed there. "You didn't have to bring anything."

"I know," Mer shrugged, placing his hands in his pockets. "I just wanted to make a good impression."

There was something almost boyish when he smiled then—cheeks coloring pink ever-so-slightly—that made him even more of a mystery. One Evie was eager to solve.

"Well," she said placing the bottle on the kitchen table. "It should go perfectly with dinner."

His expression lost a hint of its boyish charm as it grew into a look of delight.

"Make yourself at home," Evie gestured vaguely between the table and the sofa in the living room as she ventured to the cabinet where the stemware was kept.

She placed two crystal glasses on the table along with the wine and retraced her steps to fetch some of the nicer china Jonny's grandmother had kept. Mer watched her, his gaze, gentle and attentive, and a little bit yearning as she methodically sat the table.

"Need help with anythin'?" he asked finally.

"Nope," She replied with a smile. "Everything is almost ready."

The hearty red sauce on the stove was beginning to boil again which told her it was hot enough to serve, and Evie eyed the pot with scrutiny, praying silently her attempt at cooking would go over well.

"I'll pour us a glass then," Mer announced.

"Great, lemme…" Evie spun to fish for the corkscrew in the drawer of misfit utensils, finding it, only to turn to see Merriell holding his lighter against the neck of the dark bottle just below the cork.

Before she could ask, a loud pop sounded, causing her to jump as the cork went flying.

"Oh my goodness!" she laughed, a little surprised, a little impressed. "Where did you learn to do that?"

Mer shrugged, a sly expression on his features, and left her question unanswered.

"How much ya want?" He held the open bottle over the top of her glass, waiting patiently.

"Enough," she said, tossing him a coy smirk without really meaning to.

He bit his lower lip as he smiled, chuckling under his breath when he poured a generous glass of red wine for each of them. She thanked him as he took his seat and grabbed his plate to dish out their dinner.

"How much pasta would you like?"

Mer's face lit with charm and mischief as he turned to face her.

"Enough," he grinned.

The expression on his face was playful, his smirk devious and amused by his own response and his cheekiness settled warmly in Evie's stomach. Not only did she revel in it, but she also played into his whimsy and scooped as much spaghetti into his plate as she could before coupling it with the savory sauce and a slice of bread.

Despite being only strangers, the atmosphere that bloomed that evening was not marked by any hint of bashfulness, instead, it was relaxed and amiable. Warmth that Evie had longed to dwell in again—that unrefutable kindness she'd lost with the passing of her family—flowed uninhibited from the man sitting adjacent to her. His conversation was cautious but still jovial and genuine. It was the first time since running south Evie could recall what life felt like without grief and fear weighing upon her. Merriell was a stranger, but she felt safe with him. Jonny had never made her feel that way.

"So," Evie spoke as she twirled the last bit of pasta with her fork. "What is it you do, Mr. Shelton?"

Mer cast her a look of disapproval—no doubt in retaliation to being addressed so formally—before his features softened back into a neutral, yet somehow still amused side smirk.

"Nothin' too excitin'," he stated vaguely. "The odd jobs are what I like ta do the most—like fixin' ya car this aftah noon."

Without really meaning to, Evie leaned forward, resting her elbow and chin on the table, utterly enchanted by the beautiful stranger at her table.

"You like to get your hands dirty, huh? Fixing things?" she was entirely too intrigued with the thought of what he could do with his hands.

He shrugged, suddenly modest after a foray of playfully arrogant smirks and glances. It made him abruptly twice as charming.

"I've always had a knack for it, I guess." Merriell finished the food on his plate with the help of his remaining garlic bread to mop up the sauce still left on his dish.

"What about you?" he asked after chewing. "Ya workin' anywhere?"

All at once, a proud smile lit up Evie's face. After all the excitement of seeing Merriell again, she'd almost forgotten about her good news.

"Actually, I just got a job today—the general store downtown, Southern Comfort."

Mer's face lit up too, "Birdie's place?"

"Yeah, you know it?" Of course, he knows it! She thought, Bridge City's population was slightly less than the number of people who lived in a single district back home in New York. Everyone knew everyone else.

"Sho do—I was practically raised there…ole Birdie's like a second mothah to me."

"Really?" Evie found a great deal of comfort in that notion. In fact the more she thought on it, the more she realized how similar the old woman and Mer were; they radiated the same magnetism and sincerity.

"Mmhm," he nodded, his eyes focusing elsewhere as the veil of memories danced across the contours of his features. "My mama used ta work there…once upon a time…"

"Does she still work there?"

Merriell's face lost a hit of its levity and he swallowed as though to fight off the onslaught of sudden emotion threatening to cast a shadow onto his expression.

"No…" he said softly. "She—uh—she died, about a year ago."

Shit!

Abruptly, sick knots twisted into Evie's stomach, feeling callous, but understanding of the quiet misery he hid under layers of charm and arrogance.

"Merriell, I'm…I'm sorry—I didn't mean…"

He met her eyes and cast her a quick smile—doleful, but enough to ease the awful feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"It's okay," he reassured her, reaching for his glass of wine and taking a good gulp before changing the subject. "Birdie's great—you'll enjoy workin' for her."

"I hope so…" Evie said softly, still too embarrassed to meet Mer's glance longer than a second or two.

For the first time all night the atmosphere they shared felt cumbersome—perhaps more melancholy—than she'd wanted it to get. Evie sat, worrying her bottom lip, her fingers toying with a loose thread in the table cloth as she stole quick glances through her lashes in Mer's direction.

He was nursing the alcohol in his glass with the same sadness she'd caught plaguing him as he sat at the bar hours ago. And while Evie was eager to know if his grief stemmed only from the loss of his mother, or perhaps more, Merriell was still too much of a stranger to warrant such questions. It didn't matter how easy it was to be near him, she had not earned the right to know his narrative.

A soft sigh broke past her lips as she fought to find a way to properly allay the gloom that was quickly ruining an otherwise wonderful evening. It wasn't until her eyes found their desert sitting on the counter, waiting to save the day, that she perked up.

"Got any room for apple pie?" Evie asked with a hesitant smile. She hoped he wanted to stay long enough to have a slice, though she would not have blamed him for wanting to leave.

Immediately Mer perked up too, the shadows on his features retreating with the promise of something sweet.

"I was countin' on it—seems as how you promised a slice earlier," he said with a boyish grin.

When she stood, he did too, helping clear away their dinner plates, and letting them soak in the sink to be washed later. Evie cut them each a slice of apple pie and the delight on Mer’s face made her smile too seeing him lick his lips as his grin continued to grow. Catching that flash of his tongue was like a bolt of hot lightning striking her without warning; a blush rose so quickly on her cheeks Evie had to look away to keep the blunder a secret. Thankfully, the pie was more than enough to hold Merriell’s attention away from her.

“Mmmm… Almost looks too good to eat,” he said ogling the desert in front of him.

When Evie chanced a look his way, the expression on his face caused her to chuckle, “‘oughta be, I made one for my pa every year for his birthday since I was nine. It’s probably the only thing I have any confidence in making in the kitchen.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Mer quipped as he loaded his fork with as much pie as he could.

The moment he took a bite, his brows creased, and eyes closed as he chewed painfully slow. Those few seconds were like agony. Evie’s heart was pounding in her chest with so much anticipation she feared she might faint as she watched him sample the only thing she could actually make that was worth a damn.

“Fuck me, if that ain’t the best apple pie I’ve evah had the pleasure of tasting.”

A somewhat nervous, but relieved chuckle sounded in the back of Evelyn’s throat as she watched Merriell shovel a larger bite of pie into his mouth.

“Mmm… Yep. God damn delightful.”

“Stop,” Evie said sheepishly, suddenly afraid he was overselling his reaction to keep from hurting her feelings.

“No,” he wiped his mouth and leaned across the table to meet her gaze with a sincere expression that stole away all the doubt writhing in her stomach.

“I mean it. If I wasn’t so full of pasta, I’d eat that whole damn pie right now.”

“Well,” Evie grinned softly, trying not to let her blush color her cheeks too obviously. “Thank you. And you’re welcome to take the rest of it when you go.”

Excitement took form on his face with a smirk that was sweet but roguish all at once—a sort of debonair charm that amplified his magnetism—as if his bright eyes dark curls and razor-sharp jaw did not make him alluring enough already. Again she had to look away knowing the pink in her cheeks would be too strong to combat.

“Imma have ta take ya up on that offah. An’ I’ll be thinkin’ ‘bout you every time I cut me a slice.”

That blush was unstoppable; her heart was suddenly so smitten, it felt as though butterflies were fluttering merrily in her stomach. She felt weightless with warmth and hope swelling in her bosom, fearing any slight breeze would carry her off. It was ridiculous how at ease Evie felt sitting there eating pie with a complete stranger. The conversation had been easy all night; even when it had delved into less savory topics he still made her feel comfortable. Evelyn had forgotten what it was like to be in the company of a man who wasn’t easy to anger, who was genuine and kind and wanted only to live in the moment.

For a time the whimsy of the atmosphere faded as the warmth in her heart ached, suddenly missing her brother James and Cynthia's brother Charlie. Both of them were good men, kind and genuine—like Merriell—but they had been swallowed by the rages of war. Brave young men were lost forever, while a man like Jonny Doyle was still alive How was that fair?

No matter how pleasant her thoughts could be, they always fell back to the grief that plagued her. She sighed, deeply, pushing those intrusive memories back into the depths of her mind so she could find joy once more in the moment with a kind stranger.

When Merrill finished his plate he made a beeline for the sink full of soaking dishes.

“Oh, no,” she said jumping to her feet. “I can do those.”

Merriell, however, shook his head. “Uh-uh, you did the cookin’, I can do the cleanin’.”

When Evie tried to argue, Mer simply shook his head, his grin amused but determined as he kept scrubbing the dirty dishes.

“Let me help at least,” she suggested. “I’ll dry and put them away.”

Before he could protest, she snatched the freshly rinsed dish from his hand and began wiping away the droplets of water clinging to the porcelain surface, throwing him a smug smirk that made him chuckle.

“Alright,“ he smirked.

She watched him for a moment not really paying attention to her task as he scrubbed the old plates clean, overcome with a blissful vision of peaceful domesticity. It made her stomach fill to the brim with whimsy and her heart was fluttering again; had this stranger bewitched her already? Or did what she feel bubbling lightly in her gut like a seltzer stem from an end to her loneliness—even if it was only for a few hours? Evelyn didn’t know. Nevertheless, she was intrigued with a profound feeling and she wanted to dwell in it for as long as she could.

Occasionally as he would hand a freshly washed dish her way, his calloused fingertips would brush against her skin, igniting a spark she didn’t know how to react to. It was more than an amicable tingle racing from the tips of her fingers right to her heart. And each time they touched, Merriell would cast her a gentle smile that held nothing more than his inherent charm and magnetism. She wondered if he felt it too, or if her need for companionship was playing a dirty trick on her.

When the dishes were all back in their usual places—the night drawing to a close—Evelyn realized she was not ready to say farewell to her Beautiful Stranger. She longed to stay up all night just chatting with him, she did not care about what, Evelyn only wanted to stay encompassed a while longer in the blissful warmth he brought into her life. Once he was gone, all she would be able to do was stay up and ponder the significance of those little touches and the sparks they brought.

Thankfully, Merriell lingered on the old rickety porch, one hand in his pocket, the other holding onto his plate of leftover pie, seeming to stall their inevitable departure.

“Well,” he said with a grin. “Thank you for invitin’ a stranger ovah for dinna.” He paused, glancing at the leftover pie in his hand. “Can’t recall ever having a better plate of pasta, an’ nothin’ evah gonna beat this pie.”

Evie quickly looked at her feet to hide another blush.

“It was the least I could do,” she told him before looking back to meet his eyes. “You have no idea how much of a savior you were this afternoon…”

A glint of concern flashed in his eye, his brows beginning to crease as his unspoken question lingered between them.

She thought about telling him—telling him how Jonny was nothing more than a throne in her side, and how much she cherished Merriells company—but Mer was still a stranger. It wasn’t right to unload so much onto someone she’d only known for a few hours.

Before Mer could offer any reply, the sound of screeching tires stole all their focus as an old wagon pulled along the curb—narrowly missing a collision with the mailbox. The rowdy passengers were laughing and shouting loud enough even before the door opened to let Jonny stumble out. He staggered on drunk feet and screamed a handful of profanities to his buddies in the car which made them all roar with laughter.

It was only after the wagon full of hooligans pulled away that Jonny began to stagger towards the house, and it was exactly then that Evie’s fluttering heart became consumed with panic.

She and Mer watched him cross the yard, unseen, both frozen: Evie in fear and Merriell in confusion. Jonny’s intoxication level inhibited him from taking notice of them until he was at the base of the steps leading onto the porch. Immediately, his eyes narrowed and he frowned.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Jonny, this is Mr. Merriell Shelton,” Evie said quickly, willing her voice not to shake.

The Doyle’s were not known for their hospitality, nor were they known to trust most people. Especially strangers.

“He helped me this afternoon with a bit of trouble I was having,” she explained vaguely, hoping to thwart any more suspicion. “I made him dinner to say thank you—he’s just about to leave.”

Jonny eyed Merriell, seizing him up as best he could through drunken lenses. Mer stood his ground, eyeing him back with a subtle intensity that never so much as cracked under Jonny’s scrutiny.

Finally, being the better man, Mer held out his hand in a friendly manner, “nice ta meet ya.”

Jonny cast a prolonged glare at Merriell's open hand, his brows furrowed and part of his lip hiked up in a sort of snarl. Instead of returning the kind gesture, Jonny made a show of spitting at his feet before tossing his heavy leer at Evelyn.

"Evie, do not invite any more strangers into my house. I don't care if they are dying." He shoved past them both, purposely bumping Mer's shoulder (most likely in hopes to start something) muttering as he went: "I don't trust any of these filthy southerners."

Shock sent Evie's jaw slack; this time the redness in her cheeks was a symptom of embarrassment instead of infatuation. She should have known Jonny would say something rude and uncouth. Without another thought, she grabbed Mer by his sleeve and pulled him across the lawn until they stood next to his truck parked along the curb.

"I am so sorry about him," she said, crossing her arms and glaring at Jonny's house, ashamed and angry.

Mer shrugged as he placed his partially eaten pie in the passenger seat through the open window before fixing his hands in his front pockets.

"Ya boyfriend's a bit of an asshole."

"He is not my boyfriend," Evie corrected vehemently. "I don't think he knows that though. I'm just staying here until I can figure some things out."

Merriell was quiet a moment, nodding silently. It seemed as though he was taking his time processing the whole situation. There was compassion on his face and behind his eyes, but it was guarded somehow. Evie caught it though and she was grateful when he didn't ask the questions plainly forming in his mind.

"Well," he said finally, his tone light as one corner of his mouth quirked into a grin. "Since he ain't ya othah half, I feel more inclined ta leave ya with this…"

Gently, Merriell caressed her upper arm as he leaned forward to plant a tender kiss on her cheek. He let his lips linger slightly longer than was common for such an act, that all at once wove a new hopefulness into her heart.

"Dinna was swell," he added as he pulled away, his smile somehow more charming than it had been all night. "Hope I see ya again, Evie."

"Me too," she murmured.

Evie watched as he got in his truck to leave, her hand held to the cheek he'd graced with his kiss. And when he drove away, it took everything inside of her to keep from running after him.

#Beautiful Stranger Series #Merriell Shelton x Original Character #Merriell Shelton #Snafu Shelton #HBO War #The Pacific #The Pacific Fanfiction #Rami Malek Fanfiction

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aria-33-20 · 3 years ago

Text

A New Spark, Part I

Jaskier had always wondered what his Guardian would be like. Friendly? Brooding? Would they have a strong sense of justice, or a taste for violence? Since he split from the Traveler, he’d had a lot of time to wonder. Centuries, in fact. In his time not spent searching, he would create and revise lists of desirable and undesirable traits. He could never really decide what he wanted, but it helped fill the void a bit.

Today, he was on Venus, hunting through a Golden Age research facility. He’d hitched a ride with a Guardian, and had the good luck to find a location riddled with old bodies. Most would consider that an uncomfortable place to be at best, but for a Ghost searching for their Lightbearer, it was a treasure trove.

He meandered through the ruins, scanning every skeleton he could find. From what he’d heard, it wasn’t really necessary, but he did it anyway.

“‘You’ll feel it when you’re near them, like a tug on your Light,’” he whispered to himself. Old advice. He couldn’t even remember what the Ghost who told him it looked like. He’d often questioned if it was even true.

“Still searching?” came a voice. The Guardian he’d ridden with, peering in through a crack in the wall.

She was a bit of an odd one. Dressed mostly in pink, she didn’t exactly blend into the environment like most Hunters tried to do. At least, he figured she was a Hunter, based on the cape. Her music choice on the flight was also… unique. Pre-Golden Age J-pop never really took off in the Last City even after that drive full of the stuff was found.

“Yeah,” Jaskier replied. “Don’t worry about waiting for me, I’ll catch a ride when I’m done looking.”

“Hm… alright. When you get back to the City, drop me a message. I like to make sure I’m not leaving Ghosts for dead.”

“Will do,” Jaskier called as a she turned to leave.

He set his mind back on his search. A skeleton crushed under a rock, another draped over a chair… scan, scan, scan again.

It was finally when he drifted through a door labeled “Prototype Storage” that he saw it: a heavily rusted mechanical hand, sticking out from under a collapsed wall. A jolt went through Jaskier.

That’s them! And an Exo no less! How exciting!

He zoomed over to the body, and instinct took over. This is what other Ghosts had told him about! As he gathered his Light, an image of his Lightbearer should appear in his mind, something to recreate their body with… there. He took no extra time examining the image before releasing his Light in a pulse.

He floated in close.

Aaaaaaany moment now. That hand’ll move and they’ll shove off the rocks and concrete and get up and I’ll finally have found my Lightbearer.

The hand didn’t move.

He waited.

A minute.

Five.

Ten.

Thirty.

An hour.

As his excitement faded, so did his hope. Why weren’t they getting up?

“Maybe the rocks are too heavy?” He tried to convince himself, and began transmatting the chunks away.

What he found underneath dashed his hopes even further. It wasn’t an Exo. It was just a frame, and by the looks of things an outdated prototype. Still, something told him this was what he was looking for.

But… frames can’t become Risen. They can’t store or channel the Light like humans and Exos can. Still, I have to at least try to bring it back. If I can’t use the Light…

Light from Jaskier’s eye washed over the frame, scanning it. Some fried circuits, crushed and rusted out servos… all somewhat simple to fix. He could do this, even without a proper resurrection.

Two days later.

Servos whir as the frame rises to a sitting position, and a blue glow fills its large full-face visor of an eye. A bright, electronic voice emanates from a hidden speaker on its head.

“Good morning, Doct-!” It stops mid-word, scanning the room. “Where is Doctor Danniston? What happened to this facility?”

Jaskier pauses for a second, then launches into the speech he’d been preparing while he worked: “Welcome back! You’ve been offline for several centuries, so it’s likely that anyone you’ve worked with previously is… gone. My name is Jaskier, and I’m your Ghost. Our first order of business is to get you back to the Last City. We’re going to try to hitch a ride with another Guardian leaving Venus.”

The frame stares at Jaskier. “I’m afraid I cannot do that. I must remain here to assist with development of the 22-30 series of frames.”

“You’ve already completed that objective though. The 22-30 series is so old it’s not even in use anymore. You need to come with me, really.”

The frame looks over the room again, the azure glow in its face jumping around behind its protective visor. It spends a good minute examining everything and collating information, before responding with a “…very well.”

The frame gets to its feet. Jaskier gives its bare body a lookover, then mumbles to himself.

“We should probably get you armored. Hold still for a moment.”

After a second, a teal-blue light shines from the frame’s feet and begins moving up, weaving grey and brown armor around it.

“Most of the armor patterns I know are designed with humans in mind, so I’m mixing what I know about the Lightmail Titan, Born Spark Warlock, and Prototype 0.9 Hunter patterns to make something that will work for you.”

The frame examines its hands and arms, glancing at Jaskier out of the corner of its eye periodically.

“What do I require armor for?” Its tone hasn’t changed, but something makes it seem concerned.

“I’ll explain on the way to the landing zone. Come on, we don’t want to be sitting in the open like this.”

They arrived at the landing zone to find something unexpected: a bright pink modified Odyssey-class jumpship.

A similarly colored figure, accompanied by a Ghost in an inflatable shark shell, transmatted out of the ship. “Hey.”

Jaskier squinted in confusion. “I thought you were heading back to the Tower?”

The pink Hunter looked past him to the frame. “I was, but I checked the Tower’s bounty board and flight itinerary before heading out and it seems like nobody’s going to be heading here any time soon. Didn’t want to leave you stranded.” Her tone of voice turned inquisitive as she asked, “Who’s this?”

The frame took a step forward and assumed a somewhat stiff-looking stance. “I am Aria 33-20, frame prototype testbed, Unit ID 0. According to Jaskier, I am, as of an hour ago, what he refers to as a ‘Guardian.’”

The Hunter and her Ghost both glanced over at Jaskier.

“I’ll… explain on the way back to the City. Can we head out?”

The Hunter continued to stare at him, then sighed. “Alright, hop aboard.”

Suddenly, Jaskier’s vision flickered and he felt himself falling to the ground. As everything went black, he watched the Hunter reach for her own Ghost and crumple in place.

Aria 33-20 looked down at the Hunter as she struggled to return to her feet.

“The Light—!” she gasped. “Sonia!”

“Are you in need of assistance?” Aria’s voice seemed to hold little concern.

The Hunter shook her head, seemingly to clear it, and her voice trembled as she spoke. “I… I can get up on my own. Grab your Ghost. W-we need to get into orbit, away from the Fallen and Vex.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “We need to get back to the City…”

Aria kneeled to pick up Jaskier, attaching him to a magnetic clip on her thigh, then watched the Hunter struggle to her feet.

On the Hunter’s signal, her ship’s transmat system brought the four on board, and it began rising back up to orbit.

#destiny oc #destiny 2 #destiny the game #destiny fanfiction

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concussed-to-pieces · 4 years ago

Text

The Mettle Of A Man; Part Twenty

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Welcome to the end of our tale, everyone! Thank you so much for reading and enjoying over the years. I love you so much and appreciate you more than words can say. Here's to 2021, my friends! Ad Victoriam, and stay safe! Tagging @anonymouscosmos, @culturalrebel, @wrestlingfae, @toxiicpop, @mercy-and-malice, @deepkittycollecto, @nelba, @mechanicalism, @commandershepardshtole, @valkyriejack and @kovu-the-mythical-being. Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Part Four: Finding Brandis

Part Five: Weston Water And Oberland

Part Six: Meeting Preston And Matthew

Part Seven: Radstag And Radstorm

Part Eight: The Return To Sanctuary Hills

Part Nine: Domestic Ruminations

Part Ten: Institutionalized

Part Eleven: Two Weeks, Three Days

Part Twelve: Haylen’s Warning And The Glowing Sea

Part Thirteen: Under Fire

Part Fourteen: Dichotomy

Part Fifteen: The Litany Trial

Part Sixteen: Nice Try

Part Seventeen: Preparations

Part Eighteen: Divide And Conquer

Part Nineteen: Lucky

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains holiday celebrations, brief emotional distress and unprotected sex. Stay safe!]

Time seemed to pass both too fast and not fast enough.

Synths were accommodated, reprogrammed at their wishes or helped to adjust to their new lives. Doctor Amari and the rest of the Railroad had no shortage of work, and Desdemona eventually tapped MacCready and Cait to oversee their caravan logistics back to the Capital Wasteland.

"And the people of the Commonwealth slept soundly, for the greatest monster was gone." Nick had remarked, touching the brim of his fedora in a half-salute. The old detective quickly appointed himself as head of first impressions in Diamond City, making certain that no trouble befell any wayward synth that accidentally wandered in. There was still a lot of work to be done to repair the Broken Mask incident, after all.

New settlements sprang up overnight and while there may not have been total harmony, there was the sensation of the whole Commonwealth heaving a sigh of relief. Recruits flocked to the Minutemen and Brotherhood in droves as Piper's Publick Occurrences spread the word of their successful campaign against the Institute.

Commonwealth boogeyman decimated by combination effort: Brotherhood Of Steel and Minutemen join forces to save Boston from bodysnatchers!

Deacon had effortlessly deflected Piper every time she asked for an interview, the mysterious man more than content to keep the Railroad shadowy. The less everyone knew, the less they could tell, and that suited him just fine. "You did real good, Icebox. Helped a lot of people."

Elder Brandis sought approval to establish a permanent outpost at the Boston airport ruins, the former paladin keen to send the Prydwen back to the Capital Wasteland. "Oh the Prydwen's a fine ship, but put me in the field any day!" The airship, once a proud symbol of the Maxson reign, now served little purpose aside from blocking the sun on occasion. Scribes laughed and played in the massive shadow, kicking up dust until the circle where the litany trial had taken place was nothing but a memory.

X6-88 had floundered for several weeks, the courser falling into a depressive slump that not even Curie could rouse him from. Oddly enough, it was Preston who ended up being able to haul him out of the darkness, the lieutenant making a point to visit the courser to drag him from his room for target practice and other low-effort patrol duties. "Sometimes all folks need is a hand, General."

The courser went on to reluctantly take the role of defective defector, working as a consultant to the Minutemen to help ward off any future attacks by desperate coursers or Institute scientists. Preston found his input invaluable, and the duo could often be found in the lieutenant's quarters poring over threadbare maps and trading tactical information. Preston also seemed to have a calming effect on the synth hunter, helping to blunt some of the cold steel edge that X6 had honed his entire life. Add on to that the constant caring presence of Curie, and they made a strange but surprisingly effective trio.

With the new supply line firmly established between the verdant utopia of Starlight Drive-In and Oberland Station, the strain of the prior lean months finally eased a bit. Faces grew less pinched even with the increased burden of the synths, and many settlers began to tentatively plan for a small celebration in the beginning of the winter.

"'The Holidays' is what they been callin' it, real simple and succinct. Some freaky hodgepodge of everyone's traditions. I guess a lot of folks on that fancy director's board also celebrated around this time of year. Not that the synths would know, naturally." Hancock had muttered, his expression sour. "Poor bastards always workin', and they ain't got fuckall to show for it. Seems like a shit deal."

Elder Brandis granted Danse an extended leave of absence after the toppling of the Institute without the paladin even requesting it, the large man dumbfounded for a moment upon receiving the news.

"If you're up for it, I could use a hand back at Sanctuary." Vega had grinned up at him, her eyes squinting a little under the force of her smile. "A lot of prep work goes into a holiday, after all."

...

Danse had taken it upon himself to retreat from Shaun's previous bedroom when he accompanied Vega and her son back to Sanctuary. He debated heavily on returning to the airport; after all, there was no real reason for him to stay in Sanctuary Hills, at least none that he dared to dwell upon. The few small projects that Vega had to manage were easily accomplished and he was left a bit lost in the wake of the excess of his leave.

Vega, however, had begun framing in what was once the carpark for her house. Sturges helped of course, and once Danse caught on he was touched by the gesture.

"I don't want you to feel like there isn't room for you just because Shaun is back." Elizabeth had said, lugging a chunk of scrap metal from the wreckage of her car.

The paladin had to take a moment, claiming sawdust in his eye as the culprit.

Now Danse lived in the area she had partitioned off for him, uncertain if he still believed he was intruding. Those thoughts were troubling, because if he could get comfortable…

What if Vega eventually decided that Shaun needed a father and what if...what if she chose a real man? Really real, not a sham like Danse was. And if she did, what man would permit Danse to stay? What real man would permit a synth that was currently entangled by these...human emotions to remain on their property, even if Danse proved he wasn't a threat?

What man would believe him if he claimed to have no interest in Vega? Hell, Danse didn't even believe himself.

But he didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay. He wanted to tell Elizabeth...well, there were a lot of things he wanted to tell her.

His silence was more of a burden each day, and Danse knew he must seem sullen. It gnawed at him; it felt like lying every time he choked the words back down because it wasn't the right time or he just didn't know what to say, and he didn't trust himself not to say something foolish.

He decided he would wait until after the holiday gathering. Whatever the verdict was, it shouldn't take away from the joy she was clearly feeling over the festivities. So Danse threw himself into helping Sturges, Mama Murphy and the Longs around Sanctuary.

Secretly making a toy truck for Shaun had been a painstaking process fraught with peril. Mainly because Danse was somewhat indelicate and carving tiny wheels had never been his area of expertise. Oh certainly, he could build a survival camp with nothing but a combat knife and time, but a toy...

The paladin had spent countless hours creating prototypes in his cobbled-together room as he pondered the path he should take, sometimes working into the wan light of the morning. He eventually showed the truck to Jun, immensely fearful that Shaun might not enjoy the toy. Danse couldn't recall his own interests when he had been Shaun's age, and thus fell back on the other man's expertise.

"It looks good! Sand the wheels a little more, maybe give it a coat or two of paint." Jun praised the pensive paladin, turning the vehicle over in his hands to examine it. "Kyle loved these kinds of things y'know, trucks and trains and little toy boats." His gaze grew distant for a moment, the rough plaything stilling in his grasp. "Marcy thinks she's pregnant." He said abruptly.

"Pregnant?" Danse repeated without meaning to, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.

Jun nodded jerkily. "It's been three months now. She's scared, Mr. Danse, real scared. Thinks something bad will happen."

"What can we do?" The paladin asked sharply.

Jun gawked up at him, seeming confused. "We?"

"I am unfamiliar with this process. What needs to be done?"

"I...I don't follow, Mr. Danse."

"To simplify the duration! What precautions can I-"

"Whoa, hang on." Jun protested. "We aren't sure if the general will even let us stay here with an extra mouth to feed. I've been trying to figure out how to bring up the subject." He admitted.

"You haven't even told General Vega yet?!" Danse squawked.

"W-Well, no! I figured maybe we would...we'd see how the winter went and play it by ear." Jun mumbled, seeming defensive.

Danse seized the other man's arm, heedless of his protests as he hauled him across the front lawn to Vega's abode. Today was the day that Vega had planned to sort through decorations; there were many left over from the fall holiday the Commonwealth had been preparing to celebrate before...well, time had stopped for most when the bombs fell, it was understandable that faded pumpkins and skeletons would still grace crumbling walls with their orangey-cream presence.

Vega looked up from the veritable pile of brittle, salvaged decor in confusion when Danse barged into their...her home, the paladin immediately halting and offering a sharp salute. "Danse! I...uh, what's wrong?"

"Mr. Long has something he needs to discuss with you immediately." Danse informed her, tugging the other man forward.

"I-I...er, General, you…" Jun struggled to speak, twiddling his fingers wildly. "M-Marcy--"

"What's wrong, Jun? Is she okay?" Vega asked, getting to her feet and shooting Danse a worried look. "Did something happen?"

"B-Baby." Jun squeaked. "Pregnant."Backhand went still, her freckles stark against the fresh pallor of her face. "I'm sorry, General, I know we haven't discussed it beforehand a-and I know food's been better as of late...I-I guess she got enough nutrients and got healthy enough for...er, well, you know." Mr. Long looked like he wanted to disappear into the ground. "We should have spoke to you sooner; I don't know if she can leave with the weather being--"

"Wh-Where are you going? Why leave, what?" Vega stammered, "Jun, you can't travel now, if something goes wrong-!"

"We weren't sure if you'd let us stay!" The thin man interrupted her frantically. "This is your base, after all, and you didn't sign on for an extra person to worry about."

Vega inhaled deeply. "Danse, could you give me a minute with Mr. Long?" She requested, her voice suspiciously even.

Danse obeyed, closing the front door gently and meandering a pointed distance down the main thoroughfare so as not to eavesdrop. He had a relatively good idea of how the conversation would go, despite Jun's misgivings. So he wandered down to the huge tree at the end of the cul-de-sac, fiddling with the truck in his pocket absently as he stared upwards at the barren branches.

"Y'know kid," Mama Murphy piped up from her customary chair on her porch and the paladin turned to face her, giving the elderly woman his full attention. "When I had the Sight, I saw this place. Sanctuary." She nodded in the direction of the river, then gestured upwards. "The bridge, and this tree. Massive and old, worn out from all those years." She cocked her head, giving Danse an appraising look. "The tree though, it was...covered in lights. Like what you see in the pre-war mags. The Holidays, shinin' like a beacon of hope at the end of the tunnel."

Danse hummed, the vaguest beginnings of an idea taking root in his mind. He couldn't bring Vega's old life back, but maybe...maybe he could bring something from it back to her. Like what you see in the pre-war mags.

"I think you're pickin' up what I'm puttin' down, kid." Mama Murphy's smile was knowing, the old woman reaching over to pet Dogmeat. The dog seemed to materialize out of thin air sometimes! "Now get to it."

...

Backhand was already scurrying around the kitchen when Danse rose on the morning of the Holiday celebration, the paladin pausing only momentarily to yawn in the doorway before sleepily offering his assistance. "Is there something I can help with, Vega?"

"Uh, Sturges, he said something about you and stuff from Goodneighbor, I think?" Elizabeth replied, obviously preoccupied with whatever she had in the semi-functional oven. Danse nodded, trudging across the kitchen to tug on his boots by the door.

Shaun bounded out of the bathroom, his face still damp from his morning wash. "Oh, can I help too? Please Mom, let me help Mister Danse and Mister Sturges!" He begged.

"You'd better stay right where Danse and Sturges can see you." Backhand instructed him sternly, one oven-mitted hand gesturing to indicate the gravity of the situation. "Otherwise you're coming straight back inside. Go put on your warm coat."

Shaun cheered in delight, racing back to his room.

"It's okay that he's with you two, right? I know he's not your responsibility." Backhand continued in an undertone to the paladin.

Danse's throat tightened and it took him a moment to respond, "I don't mind at all. He's a very well-behaved child."

"Let me know if he's an issue and I'll bring him back inside. I just need to get this done and the oven is being all-"

Danse stood up and placed his hands on her shoulders, deliberately schooling his expression into something more stern. "General, you're doing a fine job. Stop worrying."

"Am I? Shit, I really hope so." Elizabeth mumbled, tipping her forehead until it rested against his chest. Danse prayed she couldn't hear his heart, hammering merely from her proximity. God, his body was nothing but an embarrassment waiting to happen. "I've never really done this crap. Not sure if I'm cut out for it."

The momentary respite was broken when Shaun reappeared in his oversized flannel and oilcloth jacket, the child bolting past the two adults to put on his boots. Danse reluctantly released Backhand, noting how flushed her face was but not really daring to dwell on it. "I'll...I'll watch him." The paladin said, his voice a bit stilted. "I promise."

"Thank you." Backhand mumbled, wiping her eyes and then returning to coddle…whatever it was in the oven.

"Ready, Shaun?" Danse asked the boy, who nodded rapidly and extended a hand.

The snow outside was still fresh from the night before and Danse took a moment to appreciate the view of the Commonwealth covered in a thin layer of white. Off in the distance, the towering crimson insignia of the Red Rocket gasoline station stood stark against the backdrop of the gray sky. Even further down the road slumbered the empty shell of Concord, the tallest of the town's dilapidated buildings only just visible from the paladin's position.

Shaun tugged at his hand, pulling his attention back to the present. "Mister Danse, Mister Sturges is waiting for us!" The child announced, waving up at the engineer who was currently settled into a crook of the brittle branches that graced the tree on the cul-de-sac island. "Hi Mister Sturges!"

"Howdy fellas! Come to give me a helpin' hand?" Sturges called, grinning down at the two of them.

"What assistance can we offer?" Danse queried, wary that the other man might suggest Shaun climb up to him. His fears were quickly allayed when Sturges instead asked Shaun and Danse to begin untangling the long strands of old lights.

Hancock and his ilk had arrived from Goodneighbor, bearing the gifts of dubious treats and many, many mangled strings of lights. Goodneighbor had always been drenched in neon, after all, so Danse had assumed the ghoul mayor would be the best person to call upon for aid. It would appear that Hancock had delivered in spectacular fashion.

"With your help, we'll have this place lookin' pretty as a picture in no time!"

…

Maybe she had bitten off slightly more than she could chew, trying to cook a traditional dinner. Backhand sighed, glumly poking at the cold poultry with a wooden spoon. Her cooking skills had never been much to write home about in the first place, and this only served to solidify that fact.

"Oh Mum, I'm so sorry. The old oven just isn't how it used to be." Codsworth commented, his mechanical voice tinged with melancholy.

"It's not a big deal, Codsworth. I hate to waste the food, that's all." Backhand muttered, assuring herself that she wasn't fighting back frustrated tears, her eyes were just tired. "Damn thing didn't even get to the warm phase."

"Mum, if I might suggest…?" The robot started hesitantly, carrying on when she nodded. "Perhaps it can be salvaged. After all, we make bread in that same pan by tucking it beneath the hot coals out front. What do you say, shall we give it a go?"

"Got nothing to lose, right?"

"It will be just fine, Mum! You're an adaptive sort." Codsworth remarked, drifting out the front door to stoke the usual cooking fire to life once more. "Indeed, just fine!" He called.

Vega shook her head ruefully. "Oh I'm sure." The woman grumbled. "Can't cook and comes with baggage. What a catch ol' Vega is." At least the bread had come out well, in spite of the brisk weather. She could thank whoever for that small favor.

Once Codsworth had coaxed the embers to life in the fire pit, Elizabeth bundled up and brought the still-cold cast-iron pot outside. Maybe it had been wishful thinking to believe that the oven portion of her stove would still work. Or even heat at all. It had been promising earlier in the week, but this might be a blessing in disguise. If the whole house had gone up due to a cooking malfunction...well, the holidays wouldn't be too happy then, would they?

"Please cook." She begged under her breath, troweling hot coals onto the battered dutch oven lid. "I need this, y'know? Just a little victory, that's all I'm asking for here."

"Shall I get started on the tatoes, Miss Vega?"

Elizabeth nodded, only half-listening to Codsworth. She knew she would have a good forty five minutes to an hour to wait, and it wasn't as if it was colder outside than it was inside. The joys of semi-functional heating!

Vega shook her head at herself after a second, since when did she dwell on everything that Sanctuary wasn't? At the end of the day, it was her home. She wouldn't trade it for the world, and she knew she had much more than most people.

At that thought, her gaze wandered to where Danse and Shaun were. The larger man had Shaun on his shoulders while he patiently unwound a massive bundle of flickering string lights. Shaun, for his part, was passing the untangled lights up to Sturges. The engineer slid down the ladder so he could reach the child, looping the lights over his arm before climbing back up and painstakingly placing them in the gnarled grasp of the tree's limbs.

The manufactured cheer that the lights had given off pre-war was still somewhat there, though the radiant colors were washed out to pastel and the warm whites had gone dingy gray. Instead of it being a melancholy reminder that her life had changed irreparably, Backhand was overcome with gratitude. For her son's safe return, regardless of his synthetic makeup, and for the man who was currently carrying Shaun on his shoulders. For her home, for her family.

A family.

Perhaps she was getting a little ahead of herself. After all, Danse was still adjusting to life in ordinary time. It would be selfish of her to voice her feelings to him while he was coming to terms with everything that had happened. For better or for worse, their lives were different now.

It ought to be enough that he was in her life at all. She should be content. His presence alone was a miracle; for all intents and purposes he should be dead. Yet there he was, mere feet away, helping to brighten up the holiday celebration.

Tonight there would be a multitude of visitors. God only knew how many would arrive from settlements near and far, to say nothing of Goodneighbor, Diamond City, the Prydwen and the Castle! It would be an incredibly busy evening for certain. Hancock had arrived early with a posse of ragtag drifters from Goodneighbor, all of them offering gifts of food or scavenged ornaments to decorate. Hence the massive mound of lights that was currently being diligently sorted through.

The aforementioned ghoul appeared to have delegated the task of quality checking the lights, as his form currently leaned against the faded blue siding of her house. With cigarette smoke wafting from his mouth and nasal cavity in equal amounts, he seemed content to just watch the chaos unfold.

"Aren't you a little chilly?" Backhand queried, raising an eyebrow. The mayor was still clad in his usual garb of...for lack of a better term, repurposed period dress. Granted it wasn't seasonably cold out, at least not like how she remembered it being before the bombs dropped.

"Nah, we ghouls run pretty warm. Ham's like a portable space heater." Hancock answered, giving her a lazy grin. "Cute of you to worry, though. I must be growin' on ya'."

"Whoa there, let's not get too crazy."

"Whatcha' think, General?" Sturges shouted from his perch, waving to get her attention.

Danse turned in place, appearing to realize that she was watching as his hands flew up and grabbed Shaun's legs, stabilizing the small boy on his shoulders.

Backhand couldn't keep from smiling when she called back, "it looks wonderful! Keep up the great work!"

"That ain't the only thing that looks wonderful, right Sunshine?" Hancock snickered, rolling his eyes at the now-sputtering woman. "You better give the Brave Little Toaster the ride of his life, that's all I gotta' say."

"Hancock!" Vega hissed, making a half-hearted swipe at the mayor. "You fuckin'--"

"Ah ah, little pitchers!" Hancock scolded, tilting his head to the side to draw Vega's attention to the rapidly-approaching form of Duncan, MacCready's son. "Gotta' watch that mouth of yours, Sunshine."

"This ain't over, ya' raisin-lookin' bastard." Backhand snarled under her breath, pasting on a friendly smile for Duncan while Hancock wheezed with laughter. "Hey bud, how's things?" She greeted the child, who grimaced.

"Dad's kissin' Miss Cait again. S'gross." The little boy announced, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

"That does sound pretty gross." Hancock piped up before Backhand could reply. "But you like seein' your old man happy, right? The lady makes him happy. Simple as that."

"Yeah, I guess. Can I play with Shaun?" Duncan asked Vega, eyes wide as he seemed to take in the tree covered with lights.

"Go ahead, kiddo! Just be careful and stay away from Sturges' ladder." Elizabeth warned, grinning when the little boy took off with a whoop.

Cait and MacCready strode up after a moment, both of them red-faced. MacCready bent double, his hands on his knees. "I'm not built for these bullsh--awful conditions." He panted. "I don't know how the kid does it. He was nearly dead a few months ago and now he's out here kicking the snow in the a--er, butt."

Backhand glanced around, and then snorted. "You call this snow? It's a dusting. Back before-"

"Ah ah, easy now Mumsicle, we ain't got time for yer trip down memory lane." Cait teased. "Work to be done, aye? C'mon then, General, shape up. What you doin' on the ground anyway, all crouched like a mother hen broodin'?"

"I'm cooking." Vega replied tersely.

"Oh aye? Looks like yer shirkin' t' me, love. Codsy can manage that mess, c'mon." Cait seized her elbow, levering her up out of the snowy grass. "Now, what needs doin'?"

...

The day was a whirlwind of arrivals, preparations and well wishers. Elder Brandis even stopped by briefly, taking precious time away from his all-consuming duties to distribute some useful supplies and catch up on the gossip.

The Diamond City trio graced Sanctuary with their presence shortly before noon, Nat scurrying off to play with Duncan and Shaun while Piper made a beeline for Hancock's merry band. Nick was more keen to meander around the outskirts of the groups forming, amber eyes taking in his surroundings.

Preston appeared midafternoon with X6, Curie and the entire O'Brian clan in tow, later than expected but apparently they had stopped to help out a settlement along the way.

The cul-de-sac soon rang with the laughter of the rambunctious children; even little Siusan was permitted to briefly toddle about in the trampled snow under the watchful gaze of Eamon. The weather was chilly but the sun had broken through the clouds throughout the day, sending momentary waves of brilliance across the Commonwealth.

Every table and chair that could be salvaged had been assembled on the old foundation at the end of the cul-de-sac, and it was there that the adults began to gather as the sun set. Metal drums loaded with wood were lit, providing heat and illumination to the many guests of the Commonwealth's first official potluck dinner.

"Or rather," Piper amended, clearing her throat with a touch of self-importance as she tapped her notepad, "the first documented official potluck dinner."

The large tree twinkled and shone in the fast-approaching darkness, the occasional flicker or broken bulb doing little to diminish the cheer it provided. The food was distributed, Backhand's roast chicken disappearing without a hitch. The young woman couldn't help doing a mental dance of victory, delighted that Codsworth's quick thinking had saved that particular endeavor.

Vega found a place to sit somewhere in the middle of one of the many long tables, red from the praise of her companions and the persistent chill in the air. She got even redder when Preston loudly proclaimed a toast, to the General!, her lieutenant tipping his bottle and everyone else following suit.

"I remember when I first met the general, she was half-dead on her feet." Preston began the story, his smile fond. "Sturges couldn't even believe our luck. Hell, none of us could. When freedom called, our general answered!"

Backhand, who had lived the story and knew all the ins and outs, found her attention wandering to Danse while Preston regaled the crowd with his tale. The paladin seemed to be listening closely, his meal forgotten. Deacon even began to thieve bits of chicken and tato out from beneath his nose, the Railroad agent shooting Vega a sly wink over his sunglasses.

Backhand shook her head at the other man's antics, then focused her attention on Preston. "...'Lurk queen, a huge, mean seabug, taken out by landmines! The Castle was ours once again, and we all had General Vega to thank for it." The lieutenant stated firmly. "The one who can get things done in the Commonwealth, the one who gave folks hope when it was in mighty short supply. We uh, we owe you a lot, ma'am." He raised his bottle once more. "To General Vega, leader of the Minutemen!"

"To Elizabeth!" Hancock yelled, echoed by half the damn populace as Vega tried to wave it off, the young woman laughing awkwardly. "To our Sunshine, the hero of the Commonwealth!"

"Synth savior, a regular knight in shining armor." Deacon teased.

"Well done, General Vega." Danse said warmly, "I can't know for certain whether the Brotherhood itself would be proud, but I certainly am." His praise for whatever reason made Vega's blush feel like it would scorch her skin.

Oh she knew damn well why, she was just being willfully oblivious at this point.

"Speech! Speech! Is that not zee norm for zis sort of occasion?" Curie called, the diminutive synth currently sharing X6-88's coat as well as his plate of food. X6 didn't seem to have any reservations about the matter, his arm slung around her shoulders without a care in the world.

Much to Vega's chagrin, the majority appeared to be in favor of such a vocal endeavor. She attempted to laugh off the suggestion to no avail, and finally got to her feet. "Alright, alright, settle down. I'll say a few words if it'll get you all off my damn back." She grumbled, her body thoroughly warm now with a combination of embarrassment and gratitude. "I uh…"

Vega trailed off as she looked out over the ragtag gang of expectant faces staring back at her. So many friends and neighbors, finally getting the chance to breathe. The chance to celebrate the fruits of their labor...it was sobering.

"I can't thank you all enough for...well, for everything that you've done. You all sacrificed so much for this peace, stuff I could never imagine doing even before the bombs dropped." She cleared her throat. "My mentor, Sergeant Shaun Cathan, was a great man, and he often had some very succinct or choice words which I'm not about to repeat in polite company."

"Aw c'mon-!" Zeke began to protest loudly, his voice fading as he noticed the small gaggle of children still gawking at his power armor.

Backhand continued, her jaw set firmly, "but one thing I can say that he told me is this: a leader who permits their pride to impede their decisions is doomed to failure. Pride built the Institute, and that same pride rotted it to the core. Pride built the Brotherhood of Steel, the Minutemen, and we've seen the both of them nearly toppled." Vega clenched her fist. "Pride brought nuclear fire down on Boston, but people hauled themselves outta' the ashes of that fire. Good people, tough people. Folks I knew. Folks I cared for, even if some of 'em did spend a little too much time on the Cape. If pride can do so much effin' harm, I expect simple compassion and decency to do just as much good. Hell, more than that. Humanity's built itself back up after the cluster that was armageddon, and we ain't through yet."

She tipped the jar she had been drinking out of towards the crowd, sternly studying the collection of scavengers, families both new and familiar.

...

"So here's to you, my friends. To all that you've done, and to all that you will do."

Vega's salute was rigid, pre-war. Like her helmet on the table beside her, scraped and covered in faded sigils. The mixture of candlelight and the lights on the tree reflected off the worn lenses of her glasses, shielding her eyes from view. Danse wished desperately that he could see her eyes; more than anything he wished to stand up and flat-out state what she had done for him to every soul there, display his...admiration.

Was that even the right word? Admiration, adoration, affection--

His face was strangely warm all of a sudden. Danse flinched, staring down at his mug of coffee with single-minded intent as the buzz of conversation around him picked back up. His mind raced, pieces falling into place in a nigh-unstoppable rush.

Affection. Like...what he had felt for Cutler? Almost. A little to the left of that. Brighter.

Happier.

Not perfect, nothing could ever be perfect. But...

"Elizabeth Vega?" A male ghoul's voice barely penetrated the paladin's consciousness, his words not really registering until, "Beth, it really is you!" The ghoul exclaimed. "I thought I was crazy! It's me, Beth. It's Nate."

"...Nate?"

Danse's head whipped up so fast his neck popped in warning, the paladin having been only tangentially aware of the conversation happening mere feet away from his position. But at that particular nickname his entire being snapped to attention, eyes darting sidelong from where he had been intently studying his mug of coffee.

The ghoul man that Vega was currently speaking to was an inch or two taller than her, with a single tuft of dark hair that still remained over his left ear. He appeared absolutely delighted, but Vega seemed...wary.

"Beth," Danse heard him say once more, and he watched Backhand visibly tense. "I never thought I would see you again! After the bombs dropped--I mean how the hell did...is that Shaun? God, he got so big!"

"Nate, is there something I can do for you?"

Nate.

Danse's breath caught in his throat and his mouth went dry. Nate? Nate her ex-husband from before the war? Nate, the man who had divorced her once he found out she was pregnant with his child?

Somehow he had managed to survive?

Oh, what an incredibly bitter thing to think! Danse was somewhat startled by his own dark path of reasoning. But it wasn't untrue; his mind railed at the unfairness of it all.

The paladin stood up, his mug of coffee forgotten. He wasn't exactly certain what he was about to do, but he also wasn't going to do nothing. He cast around wildly for a plan as he approached Elizabeth from behind around the table, and Danse latched onto what was probably the least intelligent course of action that he could have conjured up.

"Elizabeth," the paladin called, loud enough to be heard over the general hubbub. She turned and Danse briefly spied a look of intense relief on her face before he enveloped her in his arms. "You appeared cold, figured I could warm you up a bit." He reasoned aloud, smiling benignly over her head at Nate. "Who's this?"

Vega began to introduce him even with her face still comically buried in Danse's chest, "Nate, I'd like you to meet-"

"Paladin Logan Danse, Northeastern chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel." Danse interrupted her smoothly, extending a hand to Nate. "I've heard a great deal about you, Nate. It's a privilege to meet you, and a welcome surprise to see that you endured the radiation."

"Uh, is it? Well I-I guess it is." Nate looked flummoxed and crestfallen all at once, glumly shaking Danse's hand. "I suppose you two are, er..."

"Vega is my partner, yes. For over a year now." Danse replied once the other man had trailed off, his tone saccharine-sweet. He heard Vega gasp against his chest. "She is a truly incredible woman. I'm immensely lucky."

"Yeah, I...yeah. Uh, I have to go...talk to--I'll see you later, Beth." Nate squeaked, sidestepping away from the two of them and making a beeline for the road.

"I can't even believe it." Backhand's voice grated with tangible irritation. "I cannot even fuckin' fathom--I...dammit, why him?!" She seethed into Danse's jacket, clenching her fists on his hips. "Phew, boy, I sort of thought I'd already dealt with all that resentment." The woman admitted unhappily.

"You do things in your own time." Danse replied quietly. "Are you alright?"

Vega went still for a second. Danse felt her unclench her fists, hands going slack on his body. Had he misspoken-?

"In my own time, huh?" Vega muttered, almost like she was thinking out loud. "I...I'll be back in a little while, Danse."

…

I'm not panicking. Definitely not panicking. One hundred percent not panicking, totally fine.

Backhand scurried away from the paladin, trying to hide the tell-tale redness of her face. She needed to find either Mrs. O'Brian or MacCready, fast.

As luck would have it, MacCready found her. The former merc tapped on her shoulder as she bounced up on her tiptoes to search for Mrs. O'Brian. "Hey boss, Shaun wanted me to ask you if he could sleep over with Duncan tonight." The man began after she whirled around to face him.

"Yes." Vega replied, perhaps a little too quick and definitely too enthusiastic. "Mac you're a lifesaver, I was just about to ask-"

"-for me and Cait to watch your kid so you and the tin can can get some alone time?" MacCready smirked, giving her a wink. "Dang General, I don't think I've ever seen you so red! Don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

"Shut up, Mac, you're so exasperating." Backhand jabbed a teasing finger into the center of his chest. "You talk, Mayor, and I'll know." The threat was toothless; the both of them grinned at each other after their fierce staring contest. "Thanks for everything."

"Don't mention it. I figure getting you some Brotherhood...uh, Steel, heh, is a pretty decent way to make up for the fact that I didn't bring you a present." Mac shrugged, fiddling with the bill of his hat. "I have beef with the Capital Brotherhood, but these guys...I mean, they don't seem all bad." He allowed grudgingly, giving Vega a gentle nudge with his shoulder. "Go on."

A bracing shot of whiskey shored up her tenuous spark of confidence and Vega marched back to Danse, the large man now engaged in conversation with X6 while Shaun, Duncan, Bridget, Nat and Matthew swirled around their ankles.

Danse was saying, "--collateral ramifications would be inadvisable, I suggest a soft breach. With adequate preparation-"

"Adequate preparation on your part borders on over-caution." X6 interrupted him dismissively. "However, I will take it into account and speak with Preston on the matter. He seems to share your morality. A pity."

"Play at the unfeeling machine all you want, X6." Danse retorted. "It does you no favors. You have people who care about you now, and you would not have asked for my input if you believed the endeavour would be futile."

"True enough, Paladin." The vaguest hint of a smile tugged at X6's mouth. "You are capable."

"I suppose that is the best that I can hope for."

"Hey, Danse? Can I uh, have a little chat?" Backhand asked, stifling a hysterical giggle when Danse immediately looked guilty. The paladin nodded, bidding X6 farewell and attempting to sidestep around the children who were currently playing tag in an ever-tightening circle. "Not um, here though. Let's go to my house, okay? Shaun, you're all set to stay overnight with Duncan, Mac and Cait, right?"

"Yeah!" Shaun replied breathlessly, pausing in his chase to give his mother a massive grin. "Already brought my blankets over and everything. Mister MacCready said Duncan and I could sleep in their wagon, and that he'd tell us Grognak stories!"

Danse's brow furrowed. "We are leaving the gathering, then?" He asked, looking a bit distressed when Elizabeth nodded. "A moment, please." He turned back to the children, calling for Shaun.

The boy bolted away from the group, skidding in the muddy slush. "Yeah, Mister Danse?" He asked, his impatience plain.

"I, er. I...happy holidays." The paladin mumbled, extracting a small bundle from his jacket pocket and giving it to the child.

"Whoa, for me?!" Shaun practically crowed, tearing through the old newspaper to reveal the gift.

It was a sturdy carved vehicle, its edges sleek and smooth. The wood was coated in shiny green paint, giving the little truck a distinct air of newness in this post-apocalyptic world. Danse swallowed audibly as Shaun stared down at the toy without saying a word.

Backhand closed her eyes, hoping and praying that the kid remembered his manners. She hadn't even known Danse had planned on giving him something. Did he make the truck himself? It was wood, not the usual plastic or aluminum of pre-war children's toys. When had he found the time to make a toy? She suddenly remembered his uncharacteristically wide yawn that morning and her eyes flew open, darting to look at Danse. He had been staying up, hadn't he?

"I love it, Mister Danse!" Shaun interrupted her mental panic with his enthusiastic eruption, smiling wide and bolting forward to hug Danse around the waist. Danse's own relief was evident, the large man patting the child on the back with an awkward chuckle.

Oh Jesus, I'm not going to cry, Vega insisted, taking a deep breath. Nope, won't do it.

"Mom look, look what Mister Danse gave me!" Shaun exclaimed, as if she hadn't been standing right there the whole time.

"It's really cool, right?" Backhand grinned, rumpling his hair and then giving him a kiss on the forehead. "Make sure you wash your face and brush your teeth before bed, okay? I hope you and Duncan have fun. I love you."

"I love you too, Mom, I will. Thank you again, Mister Danse!" Shaun rushed to say, clearly eager to return to his friends.

"Alright, go on." Vega tapped the end of his nose, "go have fun." She watched him scramble through the slush, nearly tripping again. "Jesus, he's a bull in a china shop," she sighed, making Danse snort. "Shall we, Paladin?"

He fell into step beside her, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket and his back ramrod straight. He was silent until they were actually in Elizabeth's living room, the young woman barely able to shut the front door before he started babbling, "if I offended you earlier, if I-I overstepped my bounds, I apologize. I just recalled what you had said about the name he used for you and I'm afraid I started moving before I could reconsider-"

"Danse, do you remember how we started all of this?" Vega cut off what promised to be a downright incredible justification, cocking her head to the side. "How we met, and what happened?"

"You came to our aid at the Cambridge police station. Then you carried on assisting me with our mission. You helped acquire the deep range transmitter. You greased my armor." Danse paused, fidgeting. "You...said it was alright if I wanted to kiss you."

“It’s alright if you want to kiss me, you know.” Her smile was gentle. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Vega nodded, smiling once more. "The offer still stands, naturally."

"I...things are different now. I'm different. You still...even now, after everything that you know about me?"

"Of course."

"I didn't want to believe you felt that strongly about our...about us." Danse was smiling, actually smiling! "I'd given up hope a long time ago that I would ever be enough for anyone. I was never...enough. Smart enough, or strong enough or...well, just enough, I suppose." He shrugged, his smile fading. "With what happened between Maxson and I, and previously with Cutler…" The large man trailed off.

Vega took a deep breath, nodding furiously. "I do feel strongly for you. Danse, I know that this is a lot, b-but I...uh, I think I love you." She gestured up and down at the speechless paladin, feeling the heat that bloomed fresh on her cheeks. "Not just the wrapping, y'know, but uh. The whole package. You."

His look of shock and confusion slowly dissolved into something unreadable, and he broke eye contact for a moment to stare down at his boots.

"Uh, it's okay if you don't reciprocate! O-Or even if you can't reciprocate, I'm not going to be offended!" Elizabeth rushed to add, waving her hands nervously. "I know that this is a lot to dump on you all at once, I-I'm sorry. I don't want you feeling pressured to give me an affirmative answer just because you don't want to hurt my feelings or whatever."

"I...I can't say that I haven't thought about it." He admitted softly. "But Shaun, he needs--Vega, I'm not really human."

"Neither is Shaun, but I don't love him any less." Elizabeth replied. "Shaun is my son. For all intents and purposes, he is my real son, Danse."

"It's one thing to overlook it for a child, Vega. But I'm...what if something goes wrong with me? What if there's some sort of fault in my programming, and that's why I'm like this? What if-"

"It's alright if you don't want me, or even if this is too much right now. I know, it's a lot." Vega interrupted him, her heart sinking but determined to make damn sure he didn't feel pressured.

"Christ, that's not what I meant. I just want to make certain you know exactly what it is that you're agreeing to." Danse cut her off, his shoulders rigid like he was bracing for impact.

"I understand, Danse. I've understood for a while now." Elizabeth dared to rest her hand on his arm. "I want to be with you. I know that nothing in this shitshow of a future is guaranteed and I want to have something good in my life before my inevitable demise at the hands of some overconfident mole rat."

Danse nodded stiffly, and then grabbed her by the lapels of her canvas coat. Vega found herself abruptly pinned against the wall, Danse's mouth hungrily seeking her own. "You mean that?" He panted.

The brush of the stubble on his face reminded her of their first kiss in the Cambridge station and drove home the differences between he and Nate for the hundredth time. Nate was always clean-shaven, favored pecks on the cheek and lived saturated with cologne. But Danse was grizzled, earnest, reeking of the outdoors and power armor grease. Nate had been eloquent, while Danse was taciturn or tripped over his words. Nate was cold and calculating, and Danse…

Danse was fiery and raw, more vulnerable now than she could ever recall him being before. His knee nudged against her thigh and without conscious input, Elizabeth parted her legs for it and threw her arms around his neck to try to urge him even closer. "Yes, Danse," she gasped. "Oh, Jesus, yes, fuck-ing shit--"

She ground herself down against his leg, relieved that everything seemed to be functioning normally and somewhat impressed by her body's ability to mount such a rapid response after a two hundred-plus year dry spell!

"Language," Danse rumbled in reply, his hands tugging her heavy coat off of her shoulders. "Too fast?"

"No, hell no!" Backhand protested, "not fast enough."

"Shh," Danse rested his hands on her hips, shoving up her shirt slightly so he could touch bare skin. "I have you, Vega." Vega pushed herself excitedly into his grip, grinding on his thigh and arching her back. The way his breath hitched sent shockwaves to her core; the way he watched her...

"Danse we should...we should-" Vega's voice wavered as Danse laved her throat with tender kisses. "-should--bedroom, bed."

"Yes." The paladin growled, making no move to actually follow the direction. That is, until he hoisted her up to rest on his hips.

Backhand yelped, her thighs gripping his sides tightly. "H-Hey!"

Danse pressed his forehead to her own, brown eyes attempting to read her soul. "Elizabeth…" he sighed, his expression gone hopelessly soft. "I should warn you, if we...if you do this, I...listen, I can be a little--a little wordy, sometimes. If I am speaking too much-"

"Hey, no, you talk as much as you'd like, okay? Doesn't bug me at all." Vega assured him, slightly curious about what this might mean. Wordy?

"Elizabeth, you are everything that I never knew I was looking for." Danse murmured. "When I lost Cutler, I didn't think I deserved to be happy again. I assumed that my failure would continue to darken any future triumph, and when the majority of Gladius was...I feared that I was unfit for my rank. How could anyone have faith in my skills after such a catastrophic loss of life?"

"It's hard being the one making the choices. You have to be able to bear the burden of responsibility and also the burden of guilt." Vega reasoned, sympathizing with his plight.

"You had faith in me, though. You didn't even know me, but you didn't judge me for my inadequacy and you allowed me some damn peace. I'm just sorry you had to go through that abuse at Maxson's whim for my sake." Danse cupped her hand in his own, pressing kisses to her scarred knuckles. "You've already done so much for me, Vega. Let me undo you?" He offered seriously, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Well, I uh, I-I can't say I've ever been propositioned quite like that!" Backhand stuttered, certain that her flush covered her entire body at this point.

His laughter, heard so rarely, washed over her like a tidal wave. "Forgive me."

"Only if you keep asking me to have sex like that." Vega shifted her hand in his grip, intertwining their fingers. "C'mon, bedroom."

"It's not just that." Danse tried to protest, shaking his head. "I care about you. About your wellbeing. I want to make you happy."

"You do. So happy. I'm so glad that you're here with me still." Vega turned in the doorway of her room when he set her down, seizing Danse by the collar of his worn t-shirt and tugging him into her arms. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Danse."

"You don't know how much it means to me to hear you say that."

"It's the truth, though!" She insisted.

Danse surged forward, his kisses still rough and demanding as he fought to claim her affection. But she gave it freely, all he could ever want and more.

He stripped her of her shirt and dragged his own off over his head, chuckling at the way she greedily drank in the bare skin he presented. "See something you like, General?"

He was hairier than she was used to, but Backhand decided it suited him. Nate, after all, had been absolutely adamant that body hair was grotesque, and now look at him. He'd likely never have to worry about that again.

Thinking of Nate yet again put a frown on her face and Danse paused, giving her a quizzical look. "Is something amiss?"

"Oh! No, I'm sorry. I was just remembering. Nate was all…" Elizabeth gestured vaguely at Danse's chest. "He shaved everything. I'm not used to all...well, seeing so much."

"Is it off-putting? I assure you it's within the Brotherhood's hygiene guidelines, but if you don't like it I-"

"No, I love it. It's new. I've seen your arms, after all, I knew what I was getting into." Vega teased, grinning to ease his worry. "If you can accept all my stretch marks and leftovers, I can definitely handle your chest pelt."

"I'm planning on doing far more than accepting." Danse cradled her breasts in his palms, the paladin lowering his head to draw his tongue over one of her nipples. "I don't care." He soothed when Elizabeth tried to stammer out something else in regard to her stretch marks. "I don't care. It doesn't make you any less desirable to me, Elizabeth."

Vega squeezed her eyes shut, kissing his forehead as he continued to cautiously rouse her peaks until they were stiff and aching for more. Then his thumbs took over, stroking in slow, firm circles that made her quiver from head to toe. "You...you're really good at that." Elizabeth said faintly.

"I'm pleased you think so." Danse grunted when her fingers found his belt buckle. "It has been a significant amount of time for me as well, I...my excitement may be a bit obvious." He admitted, his smile sheepish.

Vega's breath caught in her throat, her hands trembling as she struggled to draw down the worn zipper of his jeans. The underside of his cock throbbed against her palm when she dared to slip her hand into his briefs, his skin searing and smooth.

Danse huffed out a breath, crumpling a little at her tentative touch. "Elizabeth," he groaned, hiding his face in her neck as he rolled his hips eagerly into her hand.

"Keep saying my name like that." She ordered, laughing when the paladin nodded rapidly into her shoulder. "I love you, Danse."

...

Danse rumbled again, words failing him while Elizabeth's fingers wrapped around his cock. This seemed like a dream, another one of his fantasies brought into being. He couldn't seem to do anything aside from stare down at her hand.

"Hey, Danse?"

He jerked to attention, eyes flying up to meet her own guiltily. "Y-Yes, Vega?" He stuttered.

"Do you...uh, y'know." Backhand fumbled to undo the button on her jeans. "You can, if you'd like." She finished awkwardly.

No sooner had she given him permission than Danse was pulling her hand out of his pants, urging her backwards onto her bed even as he kissed her battered knuckles again. "Yes." He grated out, kneeling to untie her boots so he could get her pants off. "Yes, yes, a thousand times yes."

"A for enthusiasm, big guy." Elizabeth teased, lazily fingercombing his short hair back. Her veneer of composure was shattered when the paladin eased her underwear down her legs, the young woman covering her face as if she was embarrassed. "Listen, just uh, go easy on me. It's been over two hundred years, after all." She reasoned weakly.

Danse swallowed hard. Cutler had always praised his dirty talk, the calculated way he could take apart a person with his words and touch alone. Maxson hadn't appreciated his speech, granted, but perhaps…

"You're saying you don't want me to bury my fingers in you, Elizabeth? You don't want me to open you up, work my way into that beautiful, flushed little cunt of yours?" Danse rasped, two fingers tracing lightly on her pubic mound. Her cesarean scar was faintly visible, and he felt a brief flare of concern before recalling that was indeed where the scar was from.

"Oh, Jesus. Okay." Vega gasped, blue eyes wide in what Danse could only assume was shock. "Keep that up and you won't have to worry about using anything else. Fuck, Danse, have some pity here." She pleaded, burying her hands in her hair.

"Language. Do you deserve my pity? How would you earn it?" The paladin queried, the heel of his hand applying steady pressure to her mound now.

"I can be good, Paladin! I can be really good. So good." Her breathless use of his title had Danse's cock pounding, though he tried not to make it obvious. "Please Danse, please touch me…"

Danse climbed up onto the bed alongside her, gently parting her labia with his fingers. "You'll be good for me, Elizabeth?" He asked, propping himself up with an elbow.

"Yes, please."

She had wonderful manners. Danse grazed her clit and her breath stuttered, the paladin spreading the liberal lubrication that she had already created with deft, slow strokes of his index. "Please, what?"

"P-Please...Danse."

He cautiously eased one finger into her, exhaling raggedly when her hand sought out his cock. "Vega-"

"Shh, let me." Elizabeth hushed him, her smile a little dreamy as Danse crooked his finger and rubbed in just the right spot. "Oh, f-uck, Paladin, you--"

"Language, Vega. Can't have you being a bad example while I'm knuckle deep in your cunt." Danse admonished, groaning when she whimpered. "You're so tight, this could take ages. We'll need to come up with some stretches to cope with this." He teased gruffly, sliding in another finger and spreading her open. "Mm, Elizabeth, you need to relax. Relax." He murmured, latching onto her breast.

He felt her pussy clench down around his fingers and he took a greedy suckle from her breast, making Vega cry out his name, "Danse!" She twitched and writhed under his deft attack, her thighs quivering even as she tried to spread them wider for him. Her hand fell still on his cock, not that Danse minded. It had always been more about his partner, he couldn't care less if nothing was done for him. Watching someone else fall apart because of him...now that was its own reward.

"What do I need to do to get you there, hmm?" Danse taunted playfully, tonguing sloppily over the peak of her breast. "What will it take, Elizabeth?"

She arched her back in response, pressing her breast firmly against his mouth, and Danse gently nibbled on the sensitive area she had offered up. Elizabeth sobbed out, shoving one hand down to her cunt to spread herself even wider for his plundering fingers. "More, Danse! Please please please-" she begged, her moan when he pressed a third finger into her absolutely enough to have Danse hurrying to talk himself down. "Yes, Danse." She was practically growling, her arousal something primal and untamed.

If Danse had his way, it would stay like that forever.

"What is it that you want, Vega?" His inquiry was almost lazy, three fingers stroking in and out with much less resistance now. "Hmm, I wonder if you're wet enough to take me."

"You can't just-" Vega made a noise of dismay. "That's not fair, Danse, that's not fair, you know it's not. Please, please fuck me."

Jesus. Danse almost choked on his own breath, letting his fingers slip out of her cunt. "How do you want me?" His voice broke noticeably. It felt like a lifetime since he had been desired, wanted in such a blatant and strangely pure fashion. She loved him. She wanted him inside her. Wanted him to make love to her. Wanted him.

The speed at which she flung herself up a little higher on the bed made Danse want to laugh, but then she was arching her back and looking over her shoulder at him and he suddenly forgot how to breathe for a moment. "This okay?" She panted, brown hair all tumbled around her face as she took off her glasses and pitched them in the general direction of her bedside table.

Danse nodded hurriedly, kicking his pants off. "If you need me to stop, just grab my hand." He instructed.

"This isn't exactly my first time getting fucked, Danse-"

"Language," the paladin reprimanded her with a chuckle, greedily fondling her rear as he mounted up behind her. "You have such a beautiful form, Vega." He murmured, leaning over to press a kiss between her shoulder blades. "An absolute vision."

"I do have nice tits."

Danse rolled his eyes, slipping his hands down to grope said breasts. She gasped out, rocking back against him as he agreed, "yes you do, that can't be denied. Soft, the perfect size, they fit in my hands so well, and so sensitive." He found himself laughing when she whimpered again. "Don't offer up all your weak spots unless you want them taken advantage of, Vega."

"The only thing I want to take advantage of right now is the raging hard-on I can feel." Elizabeth wriggled and Danse grunted, shuddering. "Pl-ease Danse, please put it in me."

The paladin slipped his cock between her labia, the hot, slick flesh pressing against him mercilessly as he teased her. He suddenly felt her fingers on his cock and then-

"Fuck." The paladin grated out the uncharacteristic curse through his teeth, his fists meeting the bedding on either side of her body as he fought the urge to thrust himself home in one breath.

Elizabeth half-collapsed while he slowly, slowly rutted into her, the woman panting and clawing at the blankets. "Mmmgod, Danse-" she slurred, sighing loudly. "So good, fuck, Danse…"

Danse toyed with her nipples, stupidly snarling "language," as she keened in reply. "I'll take care of you, Elizabeth. Be good for me." He pressed a kiss to her temple, smirking at the way her body quaked when he finally bottomed out in her. "That's it, look at you, taking all of me so well," he praised. "Now, how can I make you come?"

"Fu--Please use your big cock to get me off, oh please Danse!" She begged and Danse fondled her breasts yet again.

"You don't want me to touch you here, just like this?" He asked, stroking over her nipples and lingering to tease the area. "They're so hard, though, begging for my attention."

Backhand made a noise of despair, burying her face in her pillow.

"I think you need me to play with them, don't you? You like when I touch them like this." Danse muttered, thinking out loud and coming to that realization even as the words left his mouth. "What is it about it that you like?"

"S-Sensitive." Vega whimpered, "feels good."

Danse rumbled again, bending over to press his chest to her back so he could whisper in her ear, "does it feel good when I'm inside you, Elizabeth? Can you feel how hard I am for you? Feel how badly I need you?"

Elizabeth gifted him this pitiful sound, canting her hips and clenching down around his cock so tightly it took Danse's breath away. "Yes, I love it. I need you too, Danse." She murmured, shifting back and forth ever so slightly.

"Good. I'm glad." Danse took hold of her hips, seating his cock as deeply as he could in her cunt. Elizabeth whined, burying her face in her pillow again as he slowly began to make love to her.

Paladin Logan Danse, pride of the Brotherhood of Steel, had never been a man who took sex lightly. It was too important. Even after everything that had happened with Maxson, Danse still held to that belief. The display of vulnerability, the offer of power in exchange for pleasurable release, the brief moments of tenderness in an existence that was soul-crushingly difficult…

It was serious. It always was.

Vega's arms gave out and she slumped onto the bed, but Danse followed her down. Covering her with his body, the paladin thrust into her again and again, her soft whimpers and cries of his name music to his ears. "What do you need, sweetheart?" He asked raggedly when she began to squirm and arch back against him. "What can I give you, Elizabeth?"

"Fuck me, Danse!" She pleaded, turning her head to the side so she could see him.

"Language," Danse smiled, kissing her temple again. "But understood, ma'am."

…

For the first time since she'd awoken to an irradiated hellscape, Vega was wholly content to just lay down and be taken care of.

Danse was huge, proportionate to his already overgrown size, and he made the most incredible sounds when she inadvertently squeezed down on him. Groans burring in his chest like some untamed animal; he seemed content to just slowly fuck her into oblivion. Which was honestly more than she thought she would ever get.

Her fantasies, much as she'd believed they were wrong or silly at the time, didn't hold a candle to the reality of having Danse on top of her. She had gotten off more than once to this exact idea, being dominated and pinned by the massive paladin. This was a dream come true.

Elizabeth whined when he bottomed out in her again and just rutted himself back and forth slightly, making her feel every inch of his cock. The underside of his dick throbbed against the spot that made her see stars and then, the bastard, he slid his cock out of her cunt to press the head to her clit for a second. "Turn over for me?" He requested, punctuated by a gentle smack to her ass.

Vega rushed to obey, eager to have him back inside her as quickly as possible. The woman spread her legs wide so Danse could settle in between them and when the paladin did, he shifted upwards to kiss her tenderly.

"I've wanted this for so long." He admitted quietly.

"So have I!" Elizabeth replied in delight, her grin beaming. She was sure she looked like a mess, her hair stuck to her forehead with sweat and her face all flushed. But the way Danse was smiling at her…

She found she didn't really care about her appearance at this point in time.

"I love you." Danse murmured as he slid back inside her.

"I l-love you, Danse." Vega stuttered, the natural curvature of his cock applying steady pressure to her g-spot. "Make me feel so good, fuck."

"Language." He growled, making her laugh and then moan.

"Feels too good, brain can't cope." She gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck and tugging him closer until all he could do was grind down into her in a merciless manner. The motion flung her towards her peak, disconnecting her mouth even further from her brain and making her ramble into his ear, "God, I love you so much, make me feel so good--"

"I love you too, Elizabeth." He panted into the hollow of her throat, "you feel incredible. Outstanding."

Elizabeth wasn't sure how she could feel both so aroused she thought she might die and so annoyed that she wanted to explode. "Danse, did you just call my pussy outstanding?"

"It's not an incorrect statement, from my perspective. It's perfect. Wet and tight and hot." The paladin praised her freely, a hand lowering to apply gentle pressure over the scar on her lower stomach. "Beautiful."

I am not going to cry, Vega told herself sternly as she hid her face in Danse's neck. Definitely not going to cry, not going to.

A sob somehow escaped her as she came and Danse froze, his whole body flinching when her cunt clenched down on his dick. "V...Vega?" He asked tentatively.

"I'm fine! I'm fine, I promise, m'not hurt or anything. My brain is just dumb." Elizabeth hiccupped, rubbing her eyes. "I'm okay, Danse, I'm fine."

The paladin seemed uncertain and she couldn't blame him, she didn't seem fine even if she felt a thousand times better than she had in literal months.

"I swear I'm okay, that was just...it was really intense, y'know?" She mumbled awkwardly, unable to make eye contact anymore.

She felt Danse shift his weight and then he settled down on top of her, holding her close and tight. "You're sure?" He murmured, "if you're overwhelmed, that's entirely acceptable. I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"No, shit no, you feel incredible. I'm not going to be able to walk after this." Vega huffed, giggling a little when he rolled his eyes. "Keep going, okay? It feels fantastic."

"If you're certain." Danse acquiesced, kissing a hot trail down her neck when she nodded. "Let me know if you need me to stop."

Watching his forearms cord with muscle as he propped himself back up again, Vega's mouth went dry. "I have to say, this might be the best night of my life."

Danse pressed a sweet kiss to her forehead, the tenderness of the action a wonderful contrast to the needy way he sheathed his cock in her body once more. "I've thought about this." He confessed again, punctuated by a roll of his hips. "What you'd sound like, look like beneath me. You put my imagination to shame."

"What did I do in your dreams?" Backhand asked, unable to keep from breathlessly laughing when Danse hid his face in her neck. "So shy, Paladin! Even with that huge cock in me?"

"It's lewd, Elizabeth, I-I'm not proud of it." He mumbled. "Shouldn't have thought of you that way." He spread her legs wider, one hand on the back of each knee to urge her to bend.

"Mm, you thought about fucking me? Nice to know I'm not the only one with dirty thoughts."

"I did not." He protested staunchly. His cock slid back and forth between her pussy lips in a purposeful teasing motion. "I thought about how...I thought about how good it would feel to make love to you." He continued, his voice wavering slightly as his dick brushed her entrance and he plunged deep yet again. "Thought about how good I could make you feel."

Now it was Vega's turn to be shy, the woman looking away from him and flushing.

"It was still inappropriate at the...time, but I assure you it was never about that. I am not-" Danse struggled for a moment to find the words, before he sighed and rested his forehead against her own. "This already isn't simple, and I know I make it miles less so. Forgive me."

"I feel like it's pretty simple." Vega gasped, twitching as his fingers landed on her clit. "I f--fuck, Danse--I feel like it's real simple. You like me. Love me, yeah?"

"It's more than that, dammit." Danse growled, rubbing her clit in merciless circles. "What you did for me...how can I ever be worth your affection? Hell, your time?"

Elizabeth threw her head back, arching her entire body up into his chest. "Whatever good I give to you," she moaned, almost exasperated that they were even having this discussion, "you deserve it. Take it."

Danse's hands latched down on her hips, thumbs stroking back and forth over her pronounced stretch marks as he fucked into her so fiercely that Vega swore she saw stars. His pelvis ground against her own, body hair providing a delicious new sensation that had Vega grasping at the blankets in an effort to keep herself grounded. "I'm going to come, Elizabeth." Danse panted. "Where do you-"

"Inside." Backhand implored him, "come inside me, Paladin, please come inside me-" Her voice broke as she begged and Danse groaned loud, the sound incredulous.

"You...inside? Are you sure?" He asked through gritted teeth, dark brown eyes conveying his uncertainty. In reply, Vega dug the heels of her feet in beneath his rear, effectively locking him in place.

She caught a handful of his hair, gently tugging it until he leaned down again so she could seethe in his ear, "yes."

"Oh, dammit." With that wonderfully characteristic swear, Danse shoved his mouth against hers gracelessly. The heat in her belly spilled over from the onslaught of his enthusiastic thrusts and Backhand cried out, fingernails digging into his back when she came a second time.

Danse, either spurred on by her sounds or by the way her pussy gripped his dick (maybe a combination? Backhand mused) found his release seconds after, his voice breaking and dropping into a lower tone as he moaned her name. Her real name.

Elizabeth.

Vega cupped the nape of his neck, guiding his face into the hollow of her shoulder. "Lay down, sweetheart, you're shaking." She murmured, stroking over his quivering back.

"Don't want to flatten you." Danse rasped, his dick still throbbing inside her.

"Lay down. It's okay." Elizabeth flexed her bicep. "I'm strong, I can handle it." Danse laughed wearily, almost immediately going limp on top of her. She wrapped her arms back around him, fingers digging into the knots that she found to ease out the tension. "There, isn't that better?"

"Mmmmuch." Danse slurred into her neck, sounding exhausted. "Love you."

"I love you. Sleep, okay? We'll get cleaned up later. Right now though you seem like you could use a nap."

Danse nodded, the tangled mess of his hair mashed flat against her cheek in the process. "Want...to be a good parent." He mumbled several minutes later, just as Vega had thought he was dozing off. Danse propped himself up with one arm, cradling Vega's cheek in his palm. His thumb absently traced the cryo burn marks from the stasis as he continued, "a true partner for you. I don't know if you...if you even want me in that capacity, I--I don't know whether you would prefer that Shaun thinks of me as simply your friend, but I-"

"Danse," Elizabeth interrupted him sternly, raising an eyebrow. "Someone who's simply a friend wouldn't be balls deep in me."

Danse sputtered, his blush spreading down his neck to his chest. Despite his proclivity for dirty talk in the moment, he was endearingly embarrassed by her blunt words. Vega felt her heart pound as he floundered to collect himself, the large man looking away.

He's really nothing at all like Nate.

"Danse." Her voice was gentler this time, unmistakable affection bleeding through. "I would have to ask Shaun, of course, and I'd like to have an adjustment period before I do so that he can get comfortable with the idea on his own, but…" The young woman swallowed hard. Why was she so nervous all of a sudden? Oh sure, she could handle the vulnerability of being naked and fucked with absolute abandon but this? This was where her brain drew the line? Unbelievable, Backhand grumbled at herself. "I think the odds are in your favor." She concluded with a grin.

"You...even though I'm not-?"

"He's probably the last person to care about that kinda' stuff, Danse. C'mon." Vega chided, running her fingers through his sweaty hair. "Now. We are...absolutely disgusting. We need a bath big time."

"I...you're right, of course." Danse agreed absently, still seeming shocked at the whole scenario. "I should...w-we should bathe. Er, at the same time. To save water." He didn't meet her eyes, his attention focused somewhere by her left shoulder.

Elizabeth laughed, bumping their foreheads together before carefully scooting up the bed. His cock slipped out of her and she couldn't help her sigh, the noise echoed by the paladin who tilted his chin to catch her with a kiss.

"You are amazing." He breathed when they parted, his smile small but sincere. "I'm...I'll be hard-pressed to keep my hands off you, Elizabeth."

"Why bother?" Vega asked, chuckling as he ducked back in for another kiss.

...

Hours later, Danse laid awake while Elizabeth slept peacefully on his chest. The paladin stared up at the ceiling, his mind running rampant.

The future.

He hadn't really dared to think about it since discovering his true identity. Hadn't felt like it was something he deserved. After all, if he was just a machine, it hardly mattered. But Elizabeth…

She thought it mattered. She wanted him. Wanted him to stay with her. Wanted him to act as a father. Pending Shaun's approval, of course.

It was surreal how much his life had changed, how far they had come in such a short amount of time. Danse was a little overwhelmed by it all, if he was being honest. Scared, yet hopeful at the same time. And, he thought as he wrapped his arm around Elizabeth, incredibly, immensely grateful.

This new world was unforgiving, the universe coldly testing the mettle of a man time and again. But Danse had finally come out the other side, and he liked to think he had changed for the better.

Whatever the future held, they would face it together.

Ad Victoriam, General Vega. Thank you for having faith in me.

#fallout 4 #fallout four #paladin danse #paladin danse x sole survivor #paladin danse/sole survivor #paladin danse imagine #fallout fandom #fallout fanfic #slow burn #Eventual romance #The Happy Ending #that's right #paladin danse x f!sole #fo4 companions imagine #fo4 companions #epilogue #the gang's all here

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starryse · 4 years ago

Text

Hot & Cold

13 Days of SVT Christmas- Day 3

Jeonghan x Reader

Fluff, Christmas au, friends?enemies? to lovers au

2.2k

Snow was a given on Christmas, that, anyone knew. It wasn’t odd for inches of snow to cover the ground, and for the sky to be a bright white instead of its normal shades of blue. However, when it comes to Christmas plans, everyone seems to forget about the same snow they had been squealing about days prior.

You weren’t an exception.

Your breath fogged the window in front of you, the dew forming blurring the outside view. Groaning, you dropped your head down, forehead resting on the cold glass.

You didn’t mind staying cooped up inside when the roads were too dangerous to drive on, in fact, you loved it. It was a nice change of pace when you had to stay home; rather than having thousands of plans a day with only 24 hours to do them, your only option was to relax and work around the house. But when your roommate's annoying friend was also going to be snowed in with you, you couldn’t dread it anymore.

“Aww what’s wrong y/n? Hot date get canceled cause of the snow?”

You backed away from the window, a slight red mark left on your forehead. “Actually no, I’m just so excited to be stuck with you,” you scoffed.

Jeonghan’s smug smile grew, a dramatic sigh leaving his lips as he plopped onto the couch, “ah ditto, beautiful. I can’t wait to spend Christmas with you.”

“Please can you stop arguing for just 5 minutes? We’re snowed in for God knows how long, try and get along”

You and Jeonghan turned your heads towards the scruff voice belonging to your friend. His hand rubbed his creased forehead, eyes squinting shut. You sighed, nodding your head as you walked over to the male, “I’ll do my best, just keep your little devil in check and we’ll be fine”

Jeonghan cackled, leaning over the couch, white-sleeve cladded arms resting on the back, “does that mean you’re my angel?”

You groaned as you walked away from the smirking dark haired man on the couch, “Oh my God I’m going to my room”

“Can I join?!”

You flipped off the laughing male, quickly shutting your door right after.

The sun had begun to set, the snow just barely letting up from earlier. The sunset outside shown through the sheer curtains in your room, soft orange hues reflecting onto your walls. You had been in your room for a few hours, most of which were spent groaning and whining about the crazy amount of work you had to complete before next semester (which was in a week). The other good chunk of the time was you lounging on your bed, fingers mindlessly scrolling through your phone as you mentally prepared yourself to be in the presence of Jeonghan for what could be days.

Yours and Jeonghan’s relationship was a complicated one. Simple really to your shared close friends (which happened to be all of your friends), to them it was mere sexual tension, convinced you both had to big of egos to fuck one out. Meanwhile, to outsiders it may seem as if you truly hated one another, that the pure existence of each other was the bane of your lives. But for you, you didn’t know what it was. You didn’t hate Jeonghan, God no. You couldn’t lie and say you didn’t enjoy his remarks from time to time. And maybe you found him incredibly attractive. Also you 100% daydreamed about him more than you’d like to admit.

No. No no. He annoyed you. Constantly antagonizing everything you did, whether it was when you tripped over nothing and landed on a pile of Mingyu’s dogs shit, or when you were rejected by the waiter you had tried flirting with. Jeonghan always had some remark that made your blood boil.

But he was also the same guy who knew how hard you had studied for your exam, only for you to fail it, and proceed to comfort you and order you takeout. And there were all the times where Coups couldn’t come home and Jeonghan offered to stay with you (he knew how much you hated being alone at night.) He’s confusing. But then again you could only guess you were too.

“Hello my angel, dinners readyyy”

Jeonghan stood at your door, his body leaning against the frame. His dark hair casted over his eyebrows, hair parting to reveal his forehead and the small scar above his eyebrow (you may or may not have accidentally did that when you first met).

You rolled over from your previous position facing your window. Sitting up, you stretched your arms as you twisted your back. Jeonghan couldn’t help but shamelessly watch as your shirt clung to your skin as you moved, he was a simple guy. His eyes quickly darted up towards yours when you gazed over at him.

“Sooo why are you still standing there?”

Your question seemed to snap him out of his haze, his mouth stuttering out random words before he flipped you off and “ran” back out the door. That seems to be a common occurrence in the house. You snorted, standing up from your bed to go eat dinner.

“They say that the snow isn’t going to let up anytime soon. Don’t be surprised if we’re snowed in the next 2 days” Seungcheol leaned back on the couch, his elbow propped on the arm rest, head in his hand as he flipped through the Netflix shows.

You sat between the boys, feet propped on the coffee table in front of you,“can’t we watch a Christmas movie, Christmas is literally tomorrow?” Your answer was quickly given when Cheol kicked your legs off the table, causing them to fall onto the ground with a thud. You muttered a few curse words under your breath, bringing your legs up to sick criss cross on the couch.

Jeonghan laughed as he watched the two of you banter over something as little as a Christmas movie, though he wasn’t entirely surprised- you were both immensely stubborn.

Waiting for the perfect timing, Jeonghan slyly reached behind your back, grabbing the remote from the crack of the couch between you and Cheol. His eyes darted from the tv to you two as he sneakily flicked on a movie.

The sound of Christmas bells and people talking caught both yours and the pouty man on your lefts attention, your mouths shutting as you turned to the tv screen.

A loud screech erupted from your mouth, your legs quickly bouncing on the floor as you pointed a finger at the pouting man, “YES! In your face, Cheol! Christmas wins again!” Said man slunk down in his seat, half of his body towards the floor as he groaned in annoyance, “Jeonghan really? I thought you were on my side man”

Jeonghan merely laughed, his arm patting Seungcheol’s shoulder, “What can I say, I’m a sucker for Christmas movies,” his eyes drifted over at you, watching as yours lit up in delight as you watched the movie in front of you, “and maybe I like seeing others happy.”

Seungcheol only sighed, knowing fair well why the dark haired boy betrayed him. Oh how he had looked forward to being a third wheel.

It was close to midnight now, the first movie had been done for a few hours as the 3rd one ran. The small living room was lit up by the lights strung on the tree in the corner and the strands along the archway. You may have fallen asleep halfway during the 2nd movie, leaving just Coups as Jeonghan fell asleep in the beginning of the 3rd.

Seungcheol looked over towards your two huddled figures. You were stuck to Jeonghan’s side like glue, his arm drapes around your side, hand pressed against your hip. The blanket previously wrapped around you was now discarded on the floor, the only thing keeping you from freezing was whatever body heat Jeonghan was radiating without a blanket himself. The eldest sighed, muttering an idiots under his breath as he stood up, tossing the blanket over the two of you before switching off the tv and heading to bed.

“MERRRRYY CHRISTMAS!!”

You moaned, leaning your body away from the sound, stuffing your head into the closest thing next to you. The feeling of hair in your mouth caused you to spew, your eyes peeling open as you lifted your head. The view of Jeonghan’s head right next to yours made you gasp, your eyes widening in shock. You glared over at Seungcheol who stood in front of you with a smug grin, similar to the one the sleeping boy always wore, “Seungcheol. What am I doing?”

The boy tilted his head in mock confusion, “well it seems to me you’re sleeping with Jeonghan?” You scrambled up, grabbing the pillow next to you before wacking the manically laughing man as he ran to sit next to the tree. The sudden movement caused said boy to stir, his hands rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

You halted your movement, turning to look at Jeonghan who was now sitting half awake beside you on the couch.

“Merry Christmas”

You quickly answered back, a slight pink rising to your cheeks at his deeper than normal voice. God bless mornings.

Seungcheol clapped his hands, a grin etching across his face as he leaned his body over to grab one of the presents underneath the tree, “y/nnn, this ones for you!”

You smiled back, standing up from your seat, dropping the blanket on the floor in the process as you walked over to sit next to Cheol. You grabbed the present from him as he waved one of his hands at Jeonghan, the dark haired boy getting the hint as he tiredly walked over next to you. You waited for Seungcheols cue to open it, his head nodding. You greedily tore the wrapping paper off, the scraps falling onto the floor as well as Jeonghan’s legs that were sprawled in front of him. The boy looked at you, eyes squinting, “in a hurry much are we Y/n?”

You ignored his comment, instead gasping at the camera you’ve been wanting that sat in your hands. Your eyes widened, body immediately flinging into Coups’ already open arms, “you’re the bestest best friend ever, thank you Cheol.”

Seungcheol squeezed you one more time before you leaned back onto your knees in front of the tree. You passed one of the presents from you to Seungcheol, placing it in his hands that were held out flat in front of him. For a 25 y/o, he sure was giddy like a child when it came to presents.

The man cackled at the sight of the sushi boxers in front of him, the hidden meaning of the gift a fond memory, “thanks Y/n, I will cherish these beautes forever.” You smiled, patting his head. You sat back next to Jeonghan, waiting for more presents to be passed about.

Seungcheol smirked at the small, light blue wrapped present in the back of the tree, “ah, I almost forgot about this one. Y/n, this last one is yours”

You narrowed your eyes at the smug man, wondering why he was smirking at you because of a gift. Hesitantly grabbing the gift, you began slowly unwrapping it (much much slower compared to the first few presents you had torn open.) As you focused on the present, you didn’t notice the nervous man next to you, his fingers fiddling together as he gnawed on his bruising lip. He watched you through the hair that crowded his sight, cheeks the color of the lights that decorated the tree.

Your heart slowed at the now un-wrapped present, hands gently lifting the silver chain. You glanced up, eyes meeting Seungcheols. He shook his head, pointing a finger towards Jeonghan as he pretended to stretch his arms out. Your eyebrows furrowed, mouth forming a small O. You looked down at the necklace, fingers tracing the jeweled heart as you opened the locket. Your breath hitched at the engraved letters- a J for Jeonghan and your own first initial as well.

Jeonghan jumped at the sudden contact, his heart beating rapidly at the weight of your body against his. Snapping out of the shock, he softly wrapped his arms around you, his hand placed on the back of your neck as he pressed his cheek against the side of your head. He was on fire, maybe not literally, but he sure felt as if he were in flames.

You pulled back, hands gently cupping his cheeks, “why?”

Jeonghan smiled, and not the usual devilish smirk he did- no, this was different. Was it adoration? Happiness? “Because I'm maybe, possibly, 100%, for sure in love with you”

You melted at his words, a light laugh sounding before pressing your lips on his cheek, “Well maybe, possibly, 100%, for sure am I in love with you too”

The man's eyes lit up at that, a large grin spreading across his face. Pulling you back against him, he squeezed your body as he fell against the ground, a loud cheer leaving his mouth. Your laughs filled the air, a sound you were sure your neighbors could hear 2 doors down.

Seunghceol sighed at the sight, though a fond smile was hidden behind that, “let the 3rd wheeling begin.”

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pandoraborn · 4 years ago

Text

Cruelty of the Beast - Part 9

( previous. )

Characters: c!Ranboo, c!Dream, c!Wilbur, c!Tommy Word count: 2081 Content: jokes about brain damage, hypnosis, ranboo remembers everything

----

“Do you understand more?” Dream’s voice sounds almost too far away. Ranboo is still trying to grasp onto reality, still mentally lost in the end. Part of him doesn’t want to shake off the peaceful haze, but another part of him is struggling to surface, if not for himself then for Tommy.

Tommy’s hand is in his own, caressing the back of his hand tenderly. Ranboo can feel the comfort from the other teen, but the comfort only seems to keep him in this suspension. Still, he lifts his head and acknowledges Dream with a dreamy hum.

“He’s still lost,” Wilbur exclaims. “We shouldn’t have brought him there without preparing him.”

“Is he going to be okay though?” Not even Tommy’s brash voice can snap him out of it. There’s a distant thought that maybe this isn’t entirely his fault. Is it really such a bad thing though? Ranboo feels utterly at peace.

“He’ll be fine.” Dream presses his hands to Ranboo’s shoulders. “We could use this, actually. It’d be useful if we wanted to access his memories.”

“How do you suggest we use this? He’s barely responsive.” Wilbur sounds curious; Ranboo turns to gaze at the man. In this state of mind, Ranboo feels as though he can actually trust everyone around him. Though, shouldn’t that be a cause for concern? It’s not like the men are exactly plotting anything good.

Tommy seems to understand what’s being discussed, because he’s yanking his hand away from Ranboo and lurching to his feet. “Oy, no. He’ll snap out of it soon enough, neither of us need your help. You’re going to give him brain dama-”

“What are you talking about?” Wilbur sounds amused. “Do you really think he’ll get brain damage from being in trance?” Ranboo dimly notes a smirk on Wilbur’s face. “Tommy, I don’t know where you get your information, but you’re clearly looking at the wrong sources.”

“I know enough,” Tommy grumbles, seating himself back by Ranboo’s side. “He’ll get stuck like this, he’ll get brain damage and turn into some sort of puppet, then end up in a coma. You can’t use him.”

Wilbur snorts, but surprisingly, so does Dream. It’s almost enough for Ranboo to fully come back to reality as he glances back and forth. When he glances at Dream though, he notes the way Dream is presented. Dream’s hair is hanging loose around his face, no mask in sight. He’s not wearing his usual green for once, and instead a simple blue t-shirt hangs loose around his frame, paired with tan cargo pants. Dream looks like an ordinary man that’d be hard to pick out of a crowd normally, but right now, Ranboo feels completely and utterly drawn to him.

“If you’re going to do something, do it right now,” Dream urges Wilbur. “Before he completely snaps out of it.”

“Shut up dickhead,” Tommy mutters, snapping his fingers in Dream’s direction. “What if you two hurt him or some shit? You shouldn’t mess around with things you don’t understand!”

Wilbur drops his voice to speak quieter than normal. “What makes you think we don’t understand, Tommy? Remember all those nights I read to you until you fell asleep, all the times I was able to talk you out of a rash decision? Even when I was able to convince you the day we stood by the ocean, gathering sand. People find it so easy to listen to me, even more so when they’re already suggestible.”

“Wilbur,” Tommy warns.

Cocky grin in place, Wilbur moves around to stand behind Ranboo. Hands press down on the hybrid’s shoulders, heavy enough to keep him seated, light enough that he could wriggle out of the grip if he chose to. Ranboo leans back into Wilbur, head resting back against Wilbur’s chest.

“That’s it Ranboo,” Wilbur murmurs. “You enjoy feeling so relaxed, don’t you? Already so lost in the memory of your homeland, you’ll find it so easy to open the rest of your mind and let us in.”

“Us?” Ranboo finally finds his voice, and it’s shaky. He remembers what Tommy said five minutes ago. “I’ll be okay?”

“You’ll be more than okay.” It’s Dream now, and Ranboo is unconsciously leaning toward him. Dream means safety, he always has. But why?

Wilbur laughs. “I think he wants you, Dream.” He nudges at Ranboo before stepping back. “Should I keep going, though?”

Ranboo feels another arm wrap around him, holding him close. With a light sigh, Ranboo leans into the new body, recognizing the figure as Dream. He nods mutely toward Wilbur, encouraging him to keep going. He might not know what it is Wilbur is doing, but his voice is nice to listen to.

“Ranboo I want you to listen to me carefully.” Wilbur’s voice drops again, weaving gently through the room, before settling in his mind. “Just listen to me and let yourself go, back to the end. It holds all the answers you could possibly need. More specifically, the ones you’ve locked away from yourself.”

“Wilbur are you sure this will help?” Tommy whispers. The response Wilbur gives him is finger pressed to his forehead. Tommy goes cross-eyes trying to focus on the finger, but Wilbur jerks his hand downward, with Tommy’s eyes falling shut and his body falling forward. The man gathers Tommy in his arms and holds him before continuing to speak to Ranboo.

“You can see them just beyond your reach, Ranboo,” Wilbur whispers. “They’re not locked tight in a box, they’re open and available for you, you just have to be willing to reach for them.

In his mind, Ranboo’s in the end again. The purple haze surrounds him, leaving him feeling as though he’s completely alone. Wilbur’s voice is barely even heard, but Ranboo’s listening anyway. He can see what he only assumes are his memories (in the form of obsidian chunks), strewn about by the dragon’s small tower. His gaze locks onto those chunks as he moves closer, reaching an arm out. Though, Ranboo stops short of touching one. What if he finds something that scares him? He’s contributed to hurting Tommy as well as other people.

He doesn’t want to hate himself.

“It’s okay Ranboo,” Wilbur continues. “You’re safe with us. Your memories will not destroy you. Just breathe.”

He sucks in a breath, trying to steady his emotions. Everything seems to stretch out endlessly between himself and the obsidian chunks. It almost seems hopeless, but he finally closes his fist around the first one.

Everything rushes back.

He sees himself in Dream’s vault. This is his memory, he’s not watching it from an omniscient point of view, he recalls it perfectly now. Ranboo is with the rest of the SMP as they rush in to rescue Tommy and Tubbo, though he stands back to watch Tommy enact his revenge. Ranboo recalls staring at Dream, too, as the latter is led away to prison.

When he comes to, he’s still not back in the cabin, but back in the end. Obsidian chunks are still surrounding him, no longer stretched out, but pressed too close against him. The sensation is almost suffocating, and the only way out is to grab and push at them.

He remembers everything now.

Not all at once, it’s not a painful barrage against his brain, but more of a trickle, each memory dripping back in one by one. Everything he’d done, everything he’d help plan, everything he wanted to do. All the memories leave him feeling spent, even with Wilbur’s gentle cadence echoing in the back of his mind.

The last memory Ranboo picks up is the day Dream escaped from prison.

He pulls a sword on Tubbo, not to hurt him, but to warn him to stay back. He never wanted Tubbo to get hurt in the crossfire, he never wanted Michael to see this. Tubbo had always been better off away from any of this, where he can remain safe and raise Michael in peace.

Ranboo had pulled the sword and left him alone. He recalls the grief he’d pushed down in favor of guarding Tommy.

It was always about Tommy.

Ranboo had sworn to protect him from day one, hoping to guide him in the right direction, to steer him back toward Wilbur. Kind of a hard task to accomplish when he’s splitting his mind in half.

Everything makes sense now. Nothing’s changed, his mindset about Dream being evil has never changed. That much has always been true, the only difference now is Ranboo no longer feels remorse over being here.

He’d seen how everyone had twisted their morals and viewpoints into something barely recognizable. He’d seen how quickly everyone cast aside someone else for opposing beliefs, himself included. Everyone on the SMP is some level of selfish, and Ranboo had immediately gone to Dream, who had presented an idea.

He’d learned that Wilbur had the same mindset before he died. Ranboo had learned that in the deep pits of Pogtopia, where not even Tommy could reach, Wilbur had vented about his need to destroy more than just L’Manburg, that the two men had discussed starting over and creating a society where everyone would be on the same page. No more betrayal, no more destruction, no more pain.

Ranboo had loved the idea.

He still loves the idea.

When he sits up straight, he’s in the cabin again. It’s the same cabin, with the same beds and counters and furnaces. Wilbur is there holding a dazed Tommy, who’s glaring around the room. Dream is watching him with an expectant grin on his face.

The person Ranboo wants to speak to most isn’t there.

“Are you with us again?” Dream asks. “You look way more alert than you did before we started.”

Nodding, Ranboo stares down at his legs, wiping imaginary dirt off his trousers. “Thanks, I think. I don’t know what that was but-”

“Classic hypnosis,” Wilbur says smugly. “Tommy here thought it’d give you brain damage. Tommy, do you have brain damage?”

“I’ll smack you over the head with an obsidian brick,” Tommy grumbles. “That’ll give you brain damage.”

“I remember now,” Ranboo continues as though the brothers hadn’t just bickered. “I think I remember everything. Or at least, I know enough.”

“Do you still think I’m the bad guy?” Dream presses.

Ranboo snorts, but nods. “We’re all the bad guys, but I don’t mind as much. At least now I know what I’m doing.”

“Traitor.” There’s no bite in Tommy’s voice. “You lot are all traitors. Let me off this crazy ride.”

Reaching over, Ranboo gives Tommy’s hair a teasing ruffle. “You know you love us.”

“Two of you.” The younger teen shoots a pointed glare in Dream’s direction. “I only care about two of you.”

Dream shrugs. “That’s fair. I’m coming to terms with the fact that you hate me. I’ll live.”

“We’ve had a busy day,” Wilbur interrupts, pushing Tommy off his lap. The teen falls to the floor with a pained groan. “We should all sleep. We still have a lot of prep to do and things won’t be ready for awhile, but we’re making progress.”

“Wilbur you’re such a dick.” Tommy stretches out. “I’m sleeping on the floor.”

With a chuckle, Ranboo pulls Tommy up and drags him over to their makeshift double bed. “Just share with me again, alright?” He’s suprised when Tommy latches onto him, causing Ranboo to topple backwards into the bed. He makes a grab for Tommy in hopes of moving him, but it’s clear Tommy’s not moving.

“Don’t turn against me now that you have your memories back,” Tommy whispers. “I’m tired of losing people.”

Softening, Ranboo moves to grab at Tommy’s hand instead of his wrist. “No, never,” he promises. “It was always about you and your safety. I won’t let you down again, alright?”

“I’m tired of not trusting people either,” Tommy mumbles. He already sounds half asleep. “Just promise me that you and Wilbur won’t turn into Dream.”

“I promise.” Ranboo gives Tommy’s hand a squeeze. “We’re both here to protect you with everything we have. You can trust us unconditionally.”

“Thanks.” Mostly asleep, the teen’s voice is slurred. Ranboo settles for playing with Tommy’s hair to lull him down the rest of the way. He’d forgotten that in all this mess, Tommy probably doesn’t get very much comfort anymore.

That’s okay, Ranboo’s happy to provide. Just because they’re the bad guys doesn’t mean they have to be evil.

#dream smp #dream smp fanfiction #canon divergence #dreamwastaken #tommyinnit #ranboo #wilbur soot #dark!fic #whump #hypnosis #jokes about brain damage #ranboo remembers everything #long post #not based on the real people #based on the characters #cruelty of the beast #cruelty of the beast ch.9 #miishae writes

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theroomofreq · 4 years ago

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Personality Before Punctuality: Chapter 2

James Potter plays in a band but spends his mornings in the bakery chatting up Lily Evans. Lily spends her week days selling pastries, but on weekends she goes to see James play guitar.

The second part to my meet cute muggle au!

Read on AO3

Lily flung open the door to The Hallows, her bag knocked on the door frame as her quick pace carried her into the bakery. 9:07, Okay not terribly late, she could work with that. Her morning walk had little to no distractions and after yesterday she figured she had better be more timely than usual. Lily blew her bangs out of her face as she looked up to find one of the primary bakers, Simon, engaged with a customer.

Yikes, Simon hated customers. Lily increased her pace as she made her way around the counter, her bag dropping un-ceremonially to the floor. She chanced an apologetic look at Simon before turning to the customer in front of her.

“Evans, have you tried this treacle tart?!”

James Potter had a mouthful of tart and a goofy grin that came with his question.

Lily’s eyes roamed down his figure wondering how she had missed him. The first detail to notice was his hat, Potter had a large black bucket hat that fit snuggly on his head, the strap and buckle pulled tightly across his sharp jaw line. Apparently black was his theme today, as his long-sleeved shirt and trousers match his hat color.

“Of course, Potter” Lily couldn’t hold back her grin as he shoveled another bite into his mouth “This week is especially good because Simon here made it. He always makes the best pastry crust” Lily placed a hand on Simon’s shoulder and hoped her honest compliment would get her out of being late this morning.

“Flattery will not excuse the tardiness Lily, but it doesn’t stop you from being my favorite” Simon gave her a small smile, which Lily counted as a win. “Wonderful to meet you James”

“Likewise” Potter replied as Simon walked back into the kitchen.

Potter leaned up against the display case crossing his arms as he smirked down toward Lily. “I’m glad I caught you again.”

“At the bakery where I work? Yes, you’re very lucky to find me here.” She couldn’t hold back the sarcasm that dripped out of her mouth.

The way James rolled his eyes had an affectionate feel, “Oh come on, you know what I mean Evans. I didn’t know your schedule at all, this was really all I had.”

“So, what was your plan?” Lily said, her eyebrows quirked up, “Show up here every morning until I finally came in to work?”

James seemed to startle as he stood up from his relaxed position, his eyes went downcast as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Well yeah, actually that was the idea…” His eyes turned up at Lily with a bashful look.

The way his eyes locked on her resulted in Lily biting down on her lip as her cheeks flushed. Before she could reply the door chimed as another customer walked into the shop. James began to back away from the register and Lily, as his eyes wandered around the bakery.

“The table to your left has the best chairs” Lily mentioned, hoping that her invitation to stay would come across.

Potter’s eyes lit up as he made his way to where Lily suggested, walking backward toward the table with a lazy gate that had Lily captivated the whole time. Perhaps it was the way he rubbed his hands together or how held her gaze the entire time, regardless Lily loved what an all-black look did for James Potter.

Regrettably, Lily tore her eyes away from him and back to the latest customer to enter The Hallows.

----

As a Wednesday morning, the bakery wasn’t terribly busy, but there was a steady stream of people who came in to buy pastries. She knew most everyone that came in, as she had a good grasp on who the regulars were and what they would buy. Often, she found herself sending glances toward James, who sat alone at his table writing away in a notebook he had pulled from his back pocket.

She was grateful he had chosen to sit with his back to the front door, he was less likely to be noticed this way, especially because his stag tattoo was facing the wall not the open shop. Well that, and the obvious fact that she had a brilliant view of him as he focused on his writing, rolled up the sleeves on his shirt, or even shot glances at Lily.

There was something about James Potter that made her believe that he did everything at 100%. Maybe it was the way his eyes lit up as he scrawled across the page, never stopping for a moment as rotated his book to add notes or circle a word. It could’ve been the way that she caught him looking at her, his deep eyes latching on to her movements as she did her job. Whenever she caught him staring (which was very often) he didn’t ever look away, his smile just got brighter as he winked or waved in her direction. It might’ve even been the way he kept coming up and buying more sweets.

Yes, it was definitely the sweets. He seemed hell bent on trying every item available at the bakery. The fifth time he sauntered up to the register Lily rolled her eyes, “You’re going to make yourself sick Potter”

“Probably, but I just can’t help myself around sweet things.” James said as he quite obviously looked Lily up and down with a smirk. “Meaning…”

“Potter. I know” Lily interrupted. “I know what you mean. You’ve been gawking at me for hours; you are anything but subtle.”

“You’re one to talk red” James said, propping his elbow up on the counter, “I’ve caught you sending eyes my way many a time as well.” He rested his chin on his hand while winking at Lily.

“Right. I’m fit, you’re fit. Good to know we are on the same page here. Now get back to your table, my break is in an hour.”

“Anything for you love.”

---

“Do you work at all the rest of the week?” James asked her between bites of bread.

“Tomorrow evening and Sunday” Lily told him.

She ripped off another chunk of bread from the loaf they were sharing. Lily decided to spend her break sitting with James as he reviewed his favorite sweets and asked her about her schedule.

“Brill, I uh, wanted to ask if you would come to my show on Friday night” The smile he tacked on at the end was hopeful.

“I didn’t know you had a show this week? I haven’t heard anything about it- where are you playing?”

“Oh well, yes, it is a bit of a secret. Sirius’ idea really” He gestured with his hands in an attempt to explain. “Our lead singer, my best mate he’s got a real flair for the dramatic that one. He convinced us to play at one of the places that first gave us a shot. Something about taking care of the little guys and standing up to the man. We are all pretty passionate about it now”

“Yeah, alright I’d love to.”

“Yeah, okay great actually, that’s excellent!” James gave her a megawatt grin. He looked down toward his notebook again and began rapidly flipping through the pages. Finally, he stopped on a page and ripped it out before passing it across the table towards Lily.

The note seemed distinctly James and Lily wasn’t really sure what that meant, she didn’t really even know this man all that well, but the page felt like James Potter. In the middle of the page was a hand drawn logo of a bar, The Hogs Head, with a large arrow that pointed to the time he would be playing. The time was circled multiple times with a small note that said, “Be punctual Evans”.

Across the top of the page was her name, written in a cursive script that was far prettier than she had ever penned her own name in. Lily’s eyes lingered a long time around her name and the drawing right beside it. James had drawn a small portrait of Lily laughing, her nose was scrunched close to her eyes which seemed brighter than usual. It was incredible what he had drawn of her with a simple black marker, the lines on her face and her freckles were expertly drawn, Lily’s breath caught as she looked up at James. He was staring intensely at her through his dark eye lashes, slowly his lips pulled to the side in a very signature smirk that Lily simply couldn’t handle looking at for too long.

Lily shook her head trying to throw out that smirk, she knew she was in deep trouble when she had to pinch her leg before responding to James, “I didn’t know you were such an artist.”

“Nah, ‘m not. The gorgeous things in life end up drawing themselves” Potter spent a long time searching her flushed face before continuing, “I actually have to run to sound checks now, but trust me, I can’t wait to see you Friday.”

He reached across the table and gave her hand a tight squeeze before standing and walking out the door. Lily watched him go wondering how the way he had touched her so briefly had turned her legs to jelly.

----

“Damn Lils, that Potter bloke won’t even know what a guitar is much less be able to play one once he sees you.”

Lily flashed a smile into the mirror towards her best friend, “You don’t think it’s too much do you?”

“Absolutely not, we didn’t spend 2 hours trying on outfits for you to start second guessing how hot you are” Marlene let out a low whistle to prove her point.

Lily swatted at her flatmate, it did not take her that long to get ready- but even if it did, it was worth it. She’d decided to wear favorite black crop top which rested just above the smallest sliver of skin before her skirt pulled tightly across her figure hitting just about mid-thigh. Her favorite sheer tights matched her black Doc Martens perfectly and to top it all off she’d left her hair loose, Lily guessed Marlene was right, she was pretty damn hot.

Lily looked in the mirror one last time, she was ready to blow James Potter away.

---

Marlene pushed open the doors to the small venue, the outside made it look small, but it was actually pretty large on the inside. The lights were dimmed, and the crowds filled the room with a low roar, the place had an air of grunge to it. Lily glanced down at her watch, she and Marlene had showed up at the exact time Potter had written down for her, but there was no one on the small make-shift stage.

“Looks like that Potter bloke has you pegged already,” Marlene laughed as she pointed to a sign to the left of the stage.

“The Marauders” the messy scrawl on the sign read, “Tonight at 8”

It was 7:30. Potter must’ve given her an earlier time to make sure she wouldn’t be late. Lily rolled her eyes at her best friend, if James really knew her, he would know she wouldn’t dare to be late to see him.

When The Marauders walked on stage Lily’s eyes locked on James, she felt a twinge of annoyance as he sauntered out waving at the crowd. It wasn’t entirely fair for someone to be that good looking, his white long sleeve contrasted perfectly with his black bottoms and shoes. As he stepped up to his mic he pushed up the sleeve on his right arm before resting it across the strings of his guitar.

Honestly, she couldn’t bring herself to look at the rest of the band, the guitarist was just too mesmerizing. Was she obsessed with him? Probably. Was her heart rate going through the roof for reasons other than seeing a really good band? Definitely. Was she going to spend the rest of her night shamelessly staring at James Potter? Absolutely.

As Lily came to terms with how quickly this man had taken over her thoughts the past few days, James turned around to walk to the back of the stage. The sandy-haired drummer was talking animatedly with the shaggy haired singer, for some reason Lily couldn’t quite remember their names. Potter threw his arm over the singer taking a moment to nod at the flustered drummer before pulling away a now red-faced front man. Potter gave his friend a final shove toward the forward microphone and the set list began.

There’s something about seeing a band play live that is exciting, the energy from the crowd is thrilling, the band going all out while playing, and the way your emotions come in waves. But, seeing a band that you love? Exhilarating. The long lead up before the song begins, singing along to your favorite song, the vibe of hearing a chorus live for the first time, all of it is magic.

Lily was convinced that none of these feelings held a candle to seeing James Potter play. His entire body thrummed with the music, it wasn’t just his foot keeping pace, but his whole body moving as he played. The guitarist was emotionally involved in every note he played, the way his eyes followed his fingers, and how he strummed the chords perfectly in time. The smirk on his face was absolutely startling when he came in with a powerful riff or ran through a difficult set of chords. Lily decided that watching James perform was enthralling.

As The Marauders lead singer said their goodbyes Lily finally remembered his name, Sirius Black, it wasn’t that hard to remember now that she wasn’t distracted by Potter’s arse. The moment Sirius waved goodnight, Potter placed his guitar on his stand and jumped off the front of the stage.

Lily watched him weave through the crowd as he was stopped by many individuals for a photo or signature. Her attention was pulled from Potter as Marlene placed a hand on her arm.

“Lils, are you okay if I head out now?” Marlene asked the question timidly, “I promised Dorcas I would stop by after the show.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I didn’t know you were seeing her again?” Lily was surprised her friend had kept the news from her, she was usually so open about her latest relationships

“It’s new and I don’t know,” Marlene shrugged, “I didn’t want to jinx it or anything.”

Lily shook her head at her outgoing friend now turned shy at the thought of Dorcas. “Get going then, I’m sure she is waiting for you.”

“Thanks Lils,” Marlene said as she pulled the redhead in for a hug, “Maybe we will both get a bit lucky tonight.”

Ahh, there was her friend. Marlene practically ran out the front doors toward her new girlfriend. Lily turned her eyes back to the crowd searching for Potter, before she could locate him someone stepped right in front of her path blocking her view.

“You’ve created a lot of grief for me Evans.” Sirius Black stood cooly in front of Lily, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked evenly at her.

“And what would that be Black?” Lily crossed her arms challenging whatever Black was about to go on about.

“You’ve driven this fool out of his mind the last few days” Black jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward Potter who walked up next to him. “All I’ve heard the last bit is all about Lily Evans, how witty and gorgeous you are. It is enough to turn me completely mental.” Sirius had a smirk on his face, but Potter looked warily at his friend.

“I’d be happy to foot the bill for any harm my wit and or beauty has caused you.”

Potter’s jaw dropped at Lily's quip while Sirius threw his arm around his mate and cackled. “I can see why you’ve been tracing her name every night” Sirius said as he used his other hand to pat James’ chest, “See you at home mate.”

Sirius untangled himself from a now flustered James and turned to Lily, “Evans, it’s been more of a pleasure than you realize.” With a final wink sent to Lily, Sirius walked off into the crowd.

“Tracing my name?” Lily posed the question while looking toward his left arm, the sleeve still flush with his wrist, whereas the other sleeve was racked up to his elbow.

“Well, err,” the flush across his face deepened as James pushed up the sleeve to reveal the arm that Lily had signed a number of days ago. The writing was dark and thick, as if she had written it moments ago.

“I just really liked the mark you left on me, and I didn’t want to lose it. So I, err, I’ve been tracing it over every night, so it stays with me.” He looked up at her with hopeful eyes.

“Who knew you were such a softie Potter?”

“Only around you Evans.” He took a step forward and grabbed her hand, “Thank you for coming, did you have a good time?”

“It was incredible! You were incredible!” Lily felt her face light up as she talked about the concert, “That last song was unreal, I loved where you came in at the end!”

“Thanks, I wrote the song but it was Remus who came up with that section, he’s the musical genius of the four of us.”

Potter began leading her towards the exit as he continued on about the song. He held tight to her hand as he walked her out the front doors, his other hand gesturing wildly as he explained the underlying tones of Pete’s keyboard and how it meshed with his chords.

He stopped just outside of the bar before standing directly in front of her, his smile was reaching across his entire face as he took her in. “Evans you look stunning tonight.” His eyes roamed down her legs before returning to her freckled face.

“Almost as good as my Hallows apron right?” Lily’s voice came out a bit breathier than usual.

“Just about”

James reached out toward her, allowing the crimson locks to run through his fingers as he looked intently at her. Lily struggled to swallow as his eyes ran across her face, his hand tucked her hair behind her shoulder before running down her arm. Shivers ran after his hand until he secured it against her own, pulling her a step closer to his body.

“Listen, Evans, The boys and I always used to go back to the flat and just hang around after we played here. In the spirit of nostalgia we’re going to be doing it again, and I was hoping you’d come along tonight?” The hopeful smirk was back on his face as he looked down at her.

“Lead the way Potter.”

Lily let a smile break across her face as James mirrored her emotion, with a tug on her hand he pulled her alongside him into the night.

#jily fic #jily #james potter #lily evans #guitarist! james #baker! lily #muggle au #roomie writes #my writing #meet cute au #jily meet cute #hp #hp fic #hp fanfic #famous au

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coolingdownanddrawing · 4 years ago

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Note’s for dopple duties au

I’m mostly noting when the episodes take place based off what we’ve been given of the shows timeline, using the help of @lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks ‘s timeline of events as the base, I want to figure out how much time is between episodes

for ease if a episodes air date is within the month it’s speculated to be in, and the episode doesn't establish in universe what day it is, im using that date

mostly because im giving my boy a job or, seven so i need it for a baseline of his fund’s throughout the story and know what he can buy throughout

riveting I know

(spoilers: there 118 + days of plot happening in danny phantom, and actually figuring out how much time they spend NOT in plot will have to be done later becouse i was up until 5 making this)

nvm i did the math right after

March

the accident happens, were just saying all of march is the month before the accident bit for my sanity

April

Mystery meat - 3rd-4th, school days

parental bonding- 9nth-10nth, school day and potential weekend? (jack threatens to take frustration out on next person to give him bad news)

one of a kind-11nth-15nth all school days?

attach of the killer garage sale - 16nth-17nth, weekend

splitting images-18nth-19nth school days

what you want - 20th-23rd, weekend going into school days

bitter reunions- 24th-26th

30 days in april

days in plot- 23

days to breath-7 HE GETS A WEEK

May-October

prisoners of love- 9nth-10nth, school days

(From here its near impossible to keep exact dates so ill just list days spent in episode)

my brothers keeper - 3 days, all school (ghost weapon destroys a couch) late june ish

shades of gray- look it takes more then 4 days to sell everything and move house, Im dedicating at least a month to this episode, episodes could be going on in the background with this episode, even if the boss guy made her dad pay for all the repairs and stuff it take a week sell everything if their lucky, lets say 31 for the math set in around September

fanning the flames- 4 days, with results of the test being processed later on (fenton stockades is threatened) first week of October

teacher of the year- 3 days (jack breaks danny’s phone to pieces) October

fright night- (a very long Halloween, with underwear eating november 1st)

148 days from may to October

days in plot-44

days to breath-148 days, thats a good chunk! :)

November-December

13- 6 days (parents encourage invading sisters privacy involving her romantic relationship)

public enemies- 4 days (jack and maddie become ghost advisors for current mayor)

lucky in love- 4 days

maternal instincts- 1 night no luggage outside what maddie has on person

life lessons-1 day, one very long day

the million dollar ghost- 1-2 days, (there is a weapons vault in the house)

control freaks- 2 terrifying days

memory blank- 3 days (1 1/2 days removed from dannys memory)

doctors disorders - 2 days (TUCKER BREAKS A LEG?! he cant have actually broken the bone, maybe the muscles got pieced by something or a ankle sprain?)

pirate radio - 3 days (a night, a day, and cruise day)

reign storm- timeframe unclear, at least 2 (an implication that the fentons do not have guest rooms is made when jack offers dannys room to vlad for if he wants to sleep over. which either implies a blow up mattress situation or telling danny to give up his room and sleep on the couch)

identity crisis- 3 days ( “No son of mine say’s who cares about ghosts!” jack fenton, before dragging his teenager into the dangerous world of ghost hunting)

the fenton menace -5 days (fentons attempt to spin the crazy out of danny, danny gains the word crazy as a trigger word, I begin to hate this family)

the ultimate enemy- 10 years and like 6 days off danny’s life? its the time travel ep man

the fright before christmas- 3 days? 2? did ghost writer reset christmas eve?

days in november-december- 61

days in plot- 42

days to breath- 19

January/june

secret weapons- 4 days

flirting with disaster - 8 days

micro management- 2 days

beauty marked- 4 days, at least

king tuck- 2, at least

master of all time- 1 day, or 5 ish if you count the days in the other timelines

kindred spirits- 2 days

double cross my heart- 4 days

reality trip- 4 days

days in jaunuary.june-59

days in plot-31

days to breath- 28

September-rest of year

eye for an eye- politics are involved my dudes, no law is passed in a day, lets give this a week or three

infinity realms- I! HATE!TIMETRAVEL!

girls night out- a day, tops

torrent of terror-

on screen- god I don't even know man tucker and sam fly around the world, danny and vlad ruin a convention

forever phantom- a day?????? WHO KNOWS ANYMORE

urbin jungle- uh less then time then it takes for everyone to die from lacking drinking water, unless they got that from the brain vine

living large- 2 days ish

boxed up fury- a day? time is skewing more and more, i might just be tired

frightmare-ia day, tops

claw of the wild- 4 days

D-stabilized -1 days

Phantom Planet- DOES NOT MATTER, AT ALL but for those curious its, gotta be a couples weeks, or months just based off the difficulty and frequency of the ghosts shown in the montages

Yeah Im not even gonna try to calculate the september/rest of the year part

this gives us a grand total of 118 days of ghost fighting/plot that we KNOW happened, not theoretical weeks of drought or however long a montage is

days out conner has to breath/plan are-202!

oh shit that actually is almost a year in what we KNOW happened and the time frame

thats crazy

edit: I forgot to add march to conners days to plan- 233

that puts us up to 351 days in this universe, that we can CALCULATE

danny fenton was not 14 by the end of the show, he was, at least 15

#danny phantom #dopple duties au #this was a SLOG #but its done #if you want to know theoretically how long the series is #here you go

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writingwithadinosaur · 4 years ago

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“Under the Knife” - Part 3

My Masterlist - Here

Story Masterlist - Here

My Tag List - Here

Hannibal Lecter x Reader, Will Graham x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 1,700-ish

Key: Chunks of text in italics are (Y/N)’s thoughts. Y/N = Your Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Talk of Murder, Talk of Crime Scenes, Talk of Murder Victims, Cursing

Summary: You are Will Graham’s sister who works with him at the FBI. When you get offered a job promotion, life starts to change. Some changes for the better; Some for the worst.

Tag List: @fruitloopzzz @theeactress @melconnor2007 @ashenfallsof @geeksareunique @all-by-myself98 @sj-thefan @fuck-your-bad-vibes-dude @ntlmundy

Author’s Note: This is my first Hannibal piece and I am proud of it. There aren’t too many stories for Hannibal, so I figured I would add to the collection. This does take place in some happy medium where they are all alive and work together. Sort of a happier season 1 era.

This is beta-read by @theeactress, but please let me know if there is something that we missed or that we should look at again!

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces, check out my tag list above and let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

- DreaSaurusREX

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

“As most of you know, this is (Y/N) Graham, she will be our profiler for this case.”

“Oh good. Another Graham.” Beverly commented over her clipboard, writing down something involving the case probably. Jack gave her a chastising glance and she held her hands up in defense.

“(Y/N) this is Beverly Katz, Brian Zeller, and Jimmy Price.” Jack introduced you very quickly to the science-ier part of the team very quickly before jumping right into work. “So, tell us what you got so far, (Y/N).”

You opened your small notebook and began summarizing your notes from last night’s reading.

“Alright. So far I’ve been able to see three patterns: the ways they were killed, the time frame, and the fact that all of the victims that were dismembered were doctors. The strongest thing I can think of is that this killer was wronged by doctors in some way. I’m not sure if it's a doctor in the general term or if there is some specific way that ties these three doctors, and our killer, together. That was something I was going to work on today.

The way that the bodies are taken apart is very particular. From what I could tell from the photos in the files, all of the cuts seemed to be straight lines all the way through. Which means that this guy’s gotta have access not only to the tools that can do this sort of stuff, but also whatever drug he got in their system to make them lay still while he... worked. So I’m assuming the murder weapon is nothing with a jagged blade or saw-like teeth until we get to the bone. Do we have any reports on striation patterns or anything that could help us with what was used?”

“It’s like you said, the cuts were almost completely straight lines, even through to the bone. The only things we could think of were surgical tools.” Zeller spoke up. “The skin and muscles were cut similarly to how a surgeon would with a scalpel. But the bone is where it gets tricky. You can’t cut like this through bone with just a scalpel.”

“Unless you have plenty of time and you're very persistent.” Beverly joked; you were the only one that slightly exhaled a laugh through your nose at her quip.

“Alright, so the killer has a medical background.” Jack tossed into the air. You nodded.

“Possibly. But why would a doctor be going after other doctors?”

“Maybe they’re taking all his patients?” Beverly shot out. You just nodded and looked back at your notes to see where you left off.

“The uh.. The most concerning thing is the time frame. They were all killed two weeks part from each other. Dr. Everet was almost 6 weeks ago, Dr. Chaseten almost 4, and Dr. Loriet about 2.”

“Which means we could have another dead doctor within the week.” Jack solemnly spoke as he realized the gravity of the situation. “Alright, you three keep looking over everything to see if we missed something. (Y/N), start working on possible correlations between the victims and the killer. Let’s get this son of a bitch.”

And that’s how the next two days went. Researching, thinking, and trying to get into a mindset that you weren’t totally sure of yet.

You had checked in with Will like you promised and said that you were fine but you were going to be very busy for at least the next few days. Hannibal had called you after your first day and could hear the slight exhaustion in your voice. He asked you to have lunch with him tomorrow and you very quickly agreed.

But the next day, you spent more time than you thought flipping through the databases to try to find any correlation between Everet, Chasten, and Loriet. The three of them never worked in the same hospital, clinic, or even the same city. Their wives didn’t know each other. Their neighbors didn’t know each other. They didn’t have any sort of communication with each other. They were all different types of doctors. Everet and Loriet went to the same med school, but they graduated 3 years apart.

So what the fuck am I missing?

You kept looking back over the crime scene photos. You couldn’t understand why the doctors were mutilated and positioned so intricately, but the others were cast aside. The focus has to be on the doctors. They must have done something to ‘wrong’ the killer. So what the hell did all three of you do to make someone want to murder?

Your train of thought was interrupted by a knock at your office door. You let out a slightly aggravated sigh.

“Jack, I told you I will let you know when I-- Oh! Hannibal! Hi!” You looked up from your computer screen to find Hannibal standing in the doorway with a bag in his hand.

“Should I come back later?”

“No! No. Come on in. I probably should take a break. I feel like I’m going in circles anyways.” You looked at your watch and saw it was almost 3:30 PM. The last time you looked at the clock, it was 10:30 AM. “And I missed our lunch meeting.” You put your head in your hands and groaned in annoyance with yourself. “I am so sorry, Hannibal. I--”

“No need for apologies, my dear. I figured Jack had put a lot on your plate, so I thought I would bring lunch to you.” Hannibal made his way into your office and shut the door behind him.

“You really didn’t have to.”

“When was the last time you ate, (Y/N)?” Hannibal questioned you, looking you dead in the eye after he sat down in one of your office chairs.

You weren’t entirely sure. You started to speak but then stopped yourself, really trying to remember when you ate last. I know I had ½ of my breakfast at 7:30 this morning. Did I have my granola bar? Does coffee count as a meal?

“The fact that you have to think about when your last meal was, is a bit concerning. But nonetheless, I am more than happy to remedy that. ” He smiled one of his rare but small smiles and began unpacking whatever culinary art he brought. You tried to condense some of your piles of papers and folders so you had enough room to put food down.

Hannibal had brought a home-cooked meal for the two of you to enjoy. A ginger salad with fresh pan-seared scallops and even some infused water that he had marinating in his fridge overnight. This was so much better than the PB&J you had packed.

As you began to dig in, Hannibal couldn’t help but look at some of the crime scene photos and your notes.

“So what are we calling this killer?”

“‘The Virginia Scalpel.’” You said with slight annoyance. “He has a medical background and is within a reasonable distance from all of the vics. Yet, we have no idea who he is.”

“Does the killer have to be a medical professional? Maybe they just have very steady hands.”

“True. But there is almost no way that a regular guy could cut through muscle and bone that cleanly without surgical tools or the knowledge of how to use them. Not to mention the fact that he would have some serious explaining to do on how he got the succinylcholine or whatever paralyzer he plans to use next.” You rub your eyes gently, feeling the strain from the computer screen hitting you. Hannibal could feel the stress radiating off of you.

“Do you want to talk about this case?”

“Not really. But I’m not sure what else to talk about. This has been my life for the last 3 days, the killer could strike again any day now, and I still don’t know why these three doctors were targeted or who will be next!”

You started to fidget with your ring unconsciously and a bit aggressively, a sign to Hannibal that your anxiety was starting to catch up. Despite the physical signs that you needed a break, you continued to glance over an open file near you while you took another bite of food. He leaned forward in his seat a bit as he closed the file that you had been rereading for what he assumed to be at least the tenth time.

“(Y/N), you need to breathe.” You just nodded and closed your eyes to try to help your deep breaths relax you faster. “How about we go for a walk? Get the blood flowing.”

“I would love to. But I feel like I can’t afford that break right now.” You shook your head slightly as you reached down for a stack of papers you had bundled and put on the floor earlier. You didn’t see him get up, but Hannibal was standing, adjusting his jacket before holding a hand out to you.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” You looked from his hand to his face before standing up, shrugging. A small walk around the building wouldn’t hurt, right?

Before your hand could land in his, your phone rang and you felt your heart sink, dreading what could be waiting for you on the other end of the line. Both you and Hannibal looked down at your phone and saw the caller ID: “Jack Crawford.” You took a deep inhale and hit the answer button.

“I really hope you’re calling just to bug me to work faster, Jack…” You tried your best to control your voice. You looked up and Hannibal was watching, trying to listen in and gauge how you were going to react.

“Afraid not. There’s another Scalpel vic. I’m texting you the address. Drop whatever you're doing and get down here.” Jack hung up before you could say anything, leaving you in a bit of shock.

Dammit! What the hell am I missing?! Someone else is dead--Another doctor is dead because I don’t have any answers yet. How can--

“(Y/N)?” Hannibal’s hand on your arm broke your stream of internal chastising before it could get too bad, but you did unintentionally jump at the contact. He instantly raised his hands up and let you process for a moment. “There’s another one, isn’t there?”

You just nod. A second later, your phone flashed a message from Jack with an address.

“Guess my ‘walk’ is going to be to a crime scene.” You try to joke despite feeling a tinge of guilt spreading through you. Hannibal tried to walk you to your car but you kindly denied him. You wanted to be alone as you prepared yourself for your first real crime scene.

#hannibal #hannibal fanfiction #hannibal fandom #hannibal imagine #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter / reader

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rachelbethhines · 4 years ago

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Tangled Salt Marathon - Beyond the Corona Walls Part 1

Ah, now we’re finally here at season two; the dullest season. Yet there’s still plenty to talk about so let’s dig in.

Summary: Rapunzel has begun following the Black Rocks and joining her on her journey are Eugene, Cassandra, Pascal, Maximus, Fidella, Owl, Lance, Hook Foot and Shorty (who stowed away). During this time, Eugene is planning on proposing to Rapunzel again, but when Rapunzel accidentally reveals herself when he is practicing it causes an awkward situation between the couple when Rapunzel doesn't give him an answer. Meanwhile, Rapunzel and the group are making their first stop in Vardaros, a city Eugene and Lance previously visited in their past, but discover it has become overrun with criminals. While Eugene and the boys remain in the city to gather supplies, news of Eugene's arrival quickly spreads among the citizens, including the city's leader, the Baron, a criminal kingpin who previously worked with Eugene and Lance in the past and seeks revenge. Eugene, Lance and Shorty are quickly captured by the Baron's men and taken to his castle where they met by the Baron and his daughter, Stalyan, Eugene's ex-fiancée. The Baron threatens Lance's life unless Eugene marries Stalyan. Meanwhile, Rapunzel and Cassandra meet Adira, a mysterious warrior who harbors knowledge on the Black Rocks.

The Audience Needs More Than Just Single Lines of Exposition

(Yes, that’s a lot of screen grabs and this is where a video review has the advantage, but I’m not fooling with editing, so there ya go.)

King Edmund of the Dark Kingdom here is talking about the moonstone and how he wishes to destroy it.

But how has it destroyed lives? What has it and the black rocks done besides some property damage? Why is he only now just considering this option when the moonstone has been there for centuries? Why leave to prevent people from using it, when the whole point of having a strong hold there is to safeguard it in the first place?

There’s lots that we can theorize here; I’m of the mind that his wife was impaled on a black rock, myself, hence his break down here; but the series doesn’t show us that. Telling us that the moonstone is a threat isn’t enough, you have to prove that it is. Cause right now only the rocks have been shown to cause damage and in this very same episode they stop being a threat and don’t do anything.

Well Looky There, Cass Got a Promotion

So this line, plus all of Cass’s previous guard duty work coupled with her protective nature this season, more or less cements that she was personally appointed by the king to be the princess’s bodyguard. She’s no longer a handmaiden.

Now watch as the show completely forgets this little plot point.

Why Are You Here Hookfoot?

As I said earlier, I do like Hookfoot, and in theory I don’t mind him coming along to round out the group. But in practice he doesn’t really add anything. You could slot nearly any other character into his place and nothing would really change. In some cases, things would even improve without him.

Really Raps? More than Anyone?

More than the poor orphaned boy that you stole that scroll piece from and threw into a dungeon? The one that spent months translating that scroll and trying to figure out the rocks while you sat on your ass and did nothing?

Oh, yeah, Varian is currently in jail by the way, and Rapunzel fully knows this, despite Frederick promising to try and help him.

I can understand the mains not letting Varian come along on this trip, but keeping the character who thus far has the most connection to your ongoing arc away from said arc entirely is bad storytelling. There were countless ways to incorporate Varian this season that didn’t involve hiding him away for a year. Including having him come along on probation, because he’s the only one who can read the your dang macguffin.

Marriage Isn’t a Trap, Stop Acting Like It Is

Marriage doesn’t stop you from living your life. You can be married and still do whatever it is that you enjoy. If it’s a healthy marriage then you and your partner will work together to help each other fulfill their dreams. Especially, when you got the money to do it, which, as royals, Eugene and Rapunzel both got in spades.

Also we aren’t even talking about getting married right now, just getting engaged. An engagement can last however long you want it to. There’s literally no reason why Rapunzel and Eugene couldn’t have been engaged, or even married, for the rest of the series.

I know you got a time frame show and this is suppose to lead into the Happily Ever After short, but then you need to give like an actual physical reason why they wouldn’t want to marry yet, cause otherwise you’re just spinning your wheels and wasting the audience’s time with this melodrama.

Why Are You Here Shorty?

Shorty’s inclusion doesn’t bother me as much as Hookfoot’s. A. Because he’s a movie original and this is a spin off, and B. Shorty doesn’t take away anything. Including him doesn’t steal screen time from anybody else since he gets no real focus. It just also doesn’t add anything either since he gets no real focus. Your mileage may vary on how detrimental this is. It personally doesn’t bother me, but I’m not going to act like it’s great writing or anything either.

We Needed More of This

Remember how I said that there’s no longer any threat this season?

The rocks themselves could have been enough to push the narrative forward, same as they did in season one, if the series had bothered to show their destruction more often and claim that finding the moonstone could help fix things. But all we get is this one scene of a once prosperous town being junked. After that the story never focuses on it. The townspeople more or less get on with their lives, the rocks stop doing anything, and we see no more damage beyond this point.

Also keep in mind that we are never told what taking the moonstone and reuniting it with the sundrop would do, nor how it might help anyone. Rapunzel has no longer has a reason to go on her road trip.

In fact this whole season long quest now becomes pointless because not doing anything would in fact be the better option. Which in turn undermines all of season one as well, because we just spent 24 episodes saying that not doing anything is bad. So which is it show? Make up your mind.

Once Again, Marriage Isn’t a Trap

I wouldn’t mind this kind of talk so much if the show was using Lance and Hookfoot here to set up a later contradiction and challenge this kind of thought process. Cause as is, this is a pretty toxic and sexist mentality. Ladies are no less ‘free’ when they get married. Eugene doesn’t like own Raps just cause he becomes a husband. She can still do whatever the heck she wants. But no, the show only validates this outdated thinking instead.

Cass Deserves To Get Her Butt Kicked

Can’t spell Cass without ‘ass’, hun?

Adria doesn’t do anything here. She cheerfully asks to talk to Rapunzel alone, respectfully requests not to to have her personal space invaded more than once, and even then she tries to deescalate the situation as Cass tries to pick a fight over nothing like a school yard bully; even going so far as to shout elementary insults at her. Which Ardia takes all in stride.

If you’re wanting me to take Cassandra’s side in the Cass vs. Adria fallout later, show, then you’re doing a poor job of setting that up. Being cautious with a stranger is one thing, getting butt hurt after being rightly called out on your BS is another.

Let’s Talk About the Slap Here, and the Fans Misportrayal of Stalyan

Most of the fanbase hates Stalyan, and rightly so. She’s not meant to be likable. She is a villian and the show portrays her as such. However, certain fans like to take things a step further than that and take scenes out of context to imply that she is somehow even worse than she actually is. Scenes like this one for instance.

Keep in mind, Eugene stood her up. He left her at the altar. As in, he didn’t have the decency to break up with her face to face like a respectful human being. The whole point behind Eugene’s character development is that he use to be a jerk.

I’m not going to act like Stalyan is a sweet and wholly innocent victim here, but you look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn’t slap your cheating ex too when you finally saw him again after that? And yes, it is implied that Eugene use to cheat on her. More on that in part 2.

The point is you can’t just shout ‘abuser’ when all you’ve seen of a relationship is the post break up. Cause you have no idea what went down, and people aren’t always friendly with their exes.

Now we most definitely should have gotten more info on what their relationship was like and more context around the break up, and that is a failing of the show. But a good chunk of the complaints hurled at Stalyan aren’t based off anything she actually did and is more rooted in sexism and fandom’s toxic shipping habits.

What you can rightly criticize Stalyan for is inconsistency.

Stalyan’s Actions Don’t Mesh With Her Motivations

So does she want revenge or does she want to marry him? Which is it? Cause those two things aren’t compatible.

If she still loves Eugene and still believes that he would come back to her, than she wouldn’t be threatening him now. Like I said, marriage isn’t a trap. It’s not punishment. It’s a thing people actually want, and they want their partners to want it too. If her goal is to convince him to marry her, as stated, then she’d wouldn’t be mean to him right now and she wouldn’t be going along with this 'force him into it’ plan.

Look, this entire plot needed a rewrite. I’m not saying that you need to make Stalyan nice nor have her be wholly forgiving of Eugene’s past actions, but you really, really, needed to keep her in the dark about the blackmail. Especially since they try and fail to make her sympathetic later on.

As is, Stalyan is just a confusing character. You gotta do a lot of reading between the lines and digging for exposition (some of which we don't even get till the end of season 3) to make any sense of what she says and does.

But I’m going to give it an honesty try come part two.

Conclusion

I’ll give my finally thoughts in the second half of the episode/review. But for now the only interesting thing is Adria herself. The Baron stuff just drags and feels like a waste of build up.

#Eugene #tangled #anti-tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure

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letsbenditlikebennett · 4 years ago

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Who Are You || Ariana & Kaden

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @chasseurdeloup & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: Kaden shows Ariana how to make proper croissants and they share some real talk about what happened with Lydia. CONTENT: Mentions of sibling death and gun use

If you had told Ariana seven or so months ago that she’d be hanging out at Kaden’s apartment and getting a baking lesson, there was no way she should have believed it. By nature, they were supposed to be at odds. At least, that’s the narrative that the world tried to thrust upon them. Growing up with Celeste, she never fully bought into it, but Kaden had seemed to be a diligent hunter. One who she feared the moment she realized what he was, but that fear was far from her now as she rolled out the dough for the croissants with a determined look on her face. The layering on these required more precision and concentration than she preferred. Cooking had always been preferred to baking, but the latter had started to grow on her. She was careful with the rolling pin and looked back to Kaden once the last layer was rolled out. “You said we chill the dough again after this, right?” With confirmation, she set the dough back in the freezer and smiled at Abel who was diligently waiting by the entrance to the kitchen in hopes of some scraps. “Sh- Putain,” she looked back at the freezer, “Sorry croissants. Are all French pastries this challenging? These make biscuits look like a cake walk.”

“Yes, chill it and we’ll go from there. Oven has to preheat still, too.” It was strange to think that Kaden was willingly inviting a werewolf over to his apartment. And not to kill them, either. If it wasn’t for the pinpricks parading down his spine, he wouldn’t really think of Ariana as a werewolf at this point. She seemed so human. And she was a good person. That much he didn’t doubt, not at this point. Still not something he could have pictured a year ago. It should feel wrong but instead, there was some comfort in having her there with him in the kitchen, to not be alone. “Not all of them, no. Some of them are more challenging than this,” he said with a smirk as he continued to prep their work stations. He wasn’t sure what exactly it was about baking that was so calming, stabilizing in a way. Maybe it was because he could focus on just what was in front of him. And none of it had anything to do with monsters or nightmares or any other bullshit. Just flour, sugar, butter, a recipe, precise steps that had some room for experimentation, but still straight forward enough that there was minimal guess work. And as much as he’d resisted ever becoming a teacher or trainer for hunter bullshit, he was almost enjoying sharing what he knew with others. Another weird thing he never expected. “It’ll be worth it though; the work. There’s nothing quite like a fresh croissant. You’ll see. All others will be ruined for you.”

Ariana nodded along to Kaden’s instructions in regard to the croissants. They were somewhat familiar with her’s and Athena’s previous attempts. Apparently baking with hunters was one of her new hobbies. It was strange, being so firmly planted in the middle of two so very different worlds. Even with Alcher coming around and respecting her way of thinking, everything left her feeling like she didn’t quite belong anywhere despite her dream of finding her own supernatural community. A pack of sorts. But she had to believe she was making a difference. Kaden, a werewolf hunter who by all indications had been good at hunting and believed in what he did, had her in his home yet again. Though he seldom liked to admit it he cared for her. A whole ass werewolf. A small one, but still a werewolf nonetheless. He saw her as a person. He saw Regan as a person. Morgan, too. He even chose not to kill Lydia. His connections had to be making some sort of impact and she had to believe she was helping make things better somehow. The spaced-out look on her face was brief as she quickly remarked, “More challenging? I guess that’s why French cuisine is so renowned.” Still, a question sat on the edge of her tongue, but she smiled calmly anyway though her fidgeting hands likely gave her away. “If these aren’t the best croissants I’ve ever had, I want my money back,” she joked knowing full well she didn’t pay for any of the ingredients. Finally, she bit the bullet and leaned against the counter not caring all that much for the flour getting on her. She looked to Kaden somewhat cautiously. “Can I ask you something?”

Kaden smiled as he watched her try to process a baking process more complicated than what they were doing now. “Hey, there’s a reason I usually stick to pies.” He made sure the counter was sufficiently floured and ready to work, double checked the oven. Yeah, all the could do now was wait a few minutes.”Not that I don’t enjoy a challenge, just sometimes it was nice to work with a little less precision, a little mindlessly, I guess,” he added with a shrug. Especially if he was looking for some relaxation. Pastries where one wrong decision ruined the whole thing was far from relaxing. Stress found him easily enough outside of the kitchen, he did what he could to minimize it here. “Yeah, yeah. You’ll get your heavy investment back if these don’t turn out, Ari. Don’t worry.” He almost said he promised. Almost. He ought to know better than to use that word by now. Somehow the air around them shifted slightly. He couldn’t describe it. At first he wondered if it was just the chill down his back nagging at him once more, but that wasn’t it. “Sure. What?” he responded as he rested against the counter across the way, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

This was easily the most relaxed Ariana had personally ever seen Kaden. They’d spent a good chunk of the afternoon baking and joking around. It felt like this was the way things were supposed to be more often than not. “Well, you make damn good pies and I get to eat the pies so no complaints here,” she said with a small smile. She hoped the question she had to ask wouldn’t completely ruin the mood, but it had been on her mind for weeks now. With how evident it was he cared for her, it was clear something changed and her curiosity had never been easy to keep at bay. With confirmation it was okay to ask, she assured, “I know I’m not supposed to use this word, but you’re not fae and I want you to know I’m serious-- So I promise that no matter what the answer is, I’m not going to judge you or think any less of you.” After all, it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing he chose not to kill someone. She leaned against the counter and softened her features though her eyes were still inquisitive. “Why didn’t you kill Lydia? What stopped you?” It wasn’t a question that could be sugar-coated, but she kept her tone soothing as if to verbally cue that she was upholding her promise.

Kaden’s mouth pulled into a thin line at the word “promise.” Sure, she had a point, but it did nothing but make his stomach churn at this point. The word was laced with so much pain and turmoil now. Funny how much a stupid singualr word could mean. But this was Ari. It was safe. Safe as it could be at least. Weird enough he thought of a werewolf as “safe.” Still, he waited, arms crossed, and nodded, waiting for her question. He didn’t know what he expected her to ask, but it wasn’t that. He pulled back his shoulder blades, shifted his stance and looked away, as if the answer could be found by staring off somewhere in the distance. His fingers pulled at the cloth of his shirt around the crook of his elbows. It didn’t help him sort through anything much. “I don’t--” He bit at the inside of his lip, pulling back his words. Even if he wasn’t sure how to articulate his answer, he knew there was one. Somewhere. He knew. Deep down. It was somewhere. “I just…” He sighed and dropped his arms and rubbed his temples. “I just couldn’t.” He couldn’t meet Ari’s eyes either. “I was there and I had the knife to her chest and I just… I couldn’t do it. Something about…” He shook his head again and struggled to find a way to describe it. Nothing about explaining felt right. His choice felt wrong no matter how he framed it. But at the same time, he didn’t think he’d have done anything different when push came to shove. And what he made of that, he didn’t know. “I just couldn’t, alright. I-- I couldn’t be like her.”

Ariana watched him calmly as he struggled to answer her question. It was a loaded one, she knew that, but it was also important. Kaden wasn’t exactly the most open when it came to verbalizing what was on his mind and even when he did, it was mostly French swear words. Not that she faulted him for as much. The more strained Kaden’s words sounded, the softer her own features became. He needed to know that no matter where he was currently at, she wasn’t going to fault him or abandon him. Something told her he was getting better, seeing other supernatural people as well… people. “You mentioned that before,” she said calmly, “There just has to be a why there. Even if you haven’t figured it out yet.” Then what he said next caused something in her to crack. Her head snapped up abruptly and she looked a bit alarmed by what he said. She quickly assured, “You could never be like Lydia.” Even if in their own ways, they had both been killers, intentions mattered. While Lydia needed to eat, she didn’t need to torture those poor humans. She didn’t need to use her words to hurt others who weren’t even her food source, but Lydia did all of those things with little regard. That wasn’t Kaden. She struggled to make eye contact as his own gaze cast away from her, but she continued, “You’re nothing like her and you won’t ever be like her. I can get that Lydia had to feed, but what she did- she tortured people needlessly. She hurt people intentionally just because she could. To exert her power or whatever. That’s not you. Even if you- You do what you do to help people.”

Still, his answer left Ariana with more questions. Questions she wasn’t sure wouldn’t make Kaden lose any sense of cool he was trying to maintain, but even if he did get annoyed with her, she was sure they’d be able to snap back so she asked, “Do you see her as more than a monster then? It’s okay if you do. I don’t think I could have killed her either as much as I don’t mourn the fact she’s gone.”

Kaden wrung his hands together in thought. So much so that when he looked down, all the flour he’d coated them with had been wrung away. Putain. He turned to wipe them with the white powder, coating them just enough to repel any of the dough they would be working with. Not that he needed to right then, they weren't going to handle the dough for a bit. But he needed to do something. He had to. He hadn’t done anything in that clearing. Well, that wasn’t true. He did something, but it wasn’t enough, was it? A group had to clean up after him, after his choices. Ones that nearly got him killed. A few times. He’d been rubbing his hands back and forth to shake off some of the excess flour, but he’d realized once again that he’d wiped off too much. Fuck.

“I-- It’s not like that,” Kaden started, wanting to run his hands through his hair and thinking better of it, settling to rub the flour deeper into his skin instead. “I know I’d never torture or-- But that’s not…” He pinched his eyes closed and shook his head. He wasn’t sure if this was who he should be having this conversation with of all people. As much as he cared about Ari, as good hearted as she was and as instrumental as she was in taking Lydia down, she was still a kid. Right, sure. A kid who to deal with so much death already. Things no one was prepared for. He looked back at her and tried to remember himself at that age. What Oscar would have thought he was ready to hear, and what Kaden at that age would have thought in comparison. Maybe he shouldn’t use Oscar as a goal post. Still. Maybe this was fine. Right? Putain.

“She nearly killed me, Ari,” Kaden said, looking back down at his hands. Hands that had destroyed as much as they helped create, maybe more. Deadly hands. He took a sharp inhale before looking back to her. “She had a gun to my heart. Point blank. And I got lucky it was out of ammo.” He’d been there on the other side of the gun, of the death. He saw the look in her eyes before she was sure she was going to kill him. The fear had left her from earlier and all that was there was cold determination. The clarity that she was right. The look he was sure so many creatures had seen painted on his face before the twist of his knife or the bullet left the gun. He’d faced death hundreds of times in his life. But he’d never been on the other side of the hunt like that. Not once. Usually it was a kill or be killed that was still the prey fighting back. This was… different. “I was on the other side of it and I-- when the tables turned. I couldn’t choose it. To be what she had intended to be.” It made him weak, foolish. To let her go after all that. To abandon all his training for the sake of some stupid thought of his soul and its fate. What did his morality matter for the greater good? Apparently more than it had in the past. “I don’t know if I see her as anything other than a monster. She was-- That wasn’t the point. Not-- I couldn’t be on the other side of the knife. For some fucking reason.” The dough had to be ready by now. He swung the freezer open and pulled it out and placed it on the counter. Like it was of any importance. Like he was allowed to play at being normal.

Ariana watched him intently as he processed what she’d asked him. The way his hands couldn’t seem to keep still was more than indication this wasn’t an easy topic. She’d never been under the illusion it would be, but it was still difficult to watch Kaden struggle all the same. His hands kept brushing the flour away only to re-coat them in flour moments later. As if the physical movements could tie any of this together in a nice, simple way. But that’s the thing, this wasn’t simple. There was no way it’d ever be simple, but it was important. She wished Celeste was here. If anyone could help Kaden figure all of this out, it was her. But she wasn’t here. She wouldn’t ever be here to offer her wisdom again, so Ariana would try to bring some of her energy to the conversation the best she could. “Alright, maybe it’s not the point, but it’s still an important distinction. Something you stand for.”

Prior to the mention of nearly killing Kaden, Ariana had still been leaning against the counter keeping her arms calmly at her side. The idea of Lydia killing Kaden made her hands ball up into fists. Her anger was all directed at Lydia, but she tried her best to keep her features gentle though her face ended up looking like more of a grimace. It reminded her just how much Kaden getting killed was a distinct possibility. The thought only made her want to lock him away in this apartment, but she knew he’d never stand for that. “You’re only here because the gun was out of ammo,” she said, her voice coming out as a strained whisper and her fists clenching even tighter. The more he spoke, the more questions she had. He couldn’t be her when the tables were turned, but hadn’t he been so many times before? Lydia was far worse than any werewolf she’d ever met so she was having a difficult time understanding. She took a few deep breaths and reminded herself, Kaden was still here, and even if this didn’t make sense to her, they still had each other.

“You couldn’t be on the other side of the knife… or gun,” Ariana asked slowly, still not entirely sure on what to make of that. The fact she was important to him was enough to show Kaden’s values were changing, but not in a way that seemed concrete as of yet. Now she felt tense. She wasn’t sure how to clarify without making Kaden feel defensive. She’d meant what she said, that there was no judgment on her part. People were capable of some pretty amazing things when people believed in them and hell, she believed in Kaden. Maybe other wolves would think she was foolish for it, but time and again, Kaden had showed up for her when it mattered most. “Look,” she started, “I’m not trying to- What I’m going to say, I don’t mean it in a bad way. I just want to understand. And I think you need to understand. You need to know where you stand so you don’t get killed out there.” There was a good chance he’d tell her to drop it, but even if he at least thought about it, he was one step closer to making his own way. Keeping himself safer by not putting himself in a position of fighting someone he couldn’t kill. She let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and finally let her hands relax. “You’ve been on the other side of the knife before,” she reminded him gently, “Something has to be different-- even if it’s you.”

Something he stood for. Right. More and more, Kaden wasn’t sure what he stood for. Everything had softened from black and white to shades of grey and it was harder to have a clear picture of what he did and didn’t support. And if that was good or bad, he couldn’t say. His hands clenched into fists for a moment before releasing them, a small puff of flour floating in the air around them as he let the tension fall away. It was strange to hear it put so plainly, coming from her mouth of all places. He’d be dead if the gun hadn’t been out of ammo. It just lent credence to the question of whether he should have even confronted her in the woods by himself. Maybe not. Probably not. What good had it done. He wanted to slink down against the counter and fall to the floor to sit, just collapse into himself with the whole thing. But he wasn’t alone. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Ari, tense and clearly struggling to calm herself down. He wasn’t going to fall to pieces in front of her. Not if he could help it, so he gripped the edge of the counter instead, held himself up, like nothing was wrong.

His knuckles went white as he held it tighter, a little more with every difficult question she posed. “That’s what I said, yeah,” Kaden confirmed, tersely. He wanted this over and done with. Nothing would change by dragging this up, would it? And she was too young to carry all this. He was sure of it. But she kept poking at it, prodding. “I know that,” he said, his voice snapping harsher than he’d meant to. “I know,” he repeated, softer this time. “I know I need focus but it’s not…” It wasn’t simple or clear anymore. “I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry about me, alright?” He turned away from her, and back towards the fridge to grab the dough, a silent savior from his thoughts. The sooner they were baking, the sooner he could drown all this out. “That was my point, Ari. I’ve been on the side that kills. Not the one that--” The lump in his throat didn’t let the rest of his words flow free. “So yeah. I don’t know. Doesn’t matter right now. Grab the rest of the dough, alright?”

Ariana watched on as she could see Kaden struggling with himself. While his distress and confusion were both visible, they didn’t quite make it to his words outside of a bit of a bite in his tone that he immediately softened. Her own flour covered hands started to fidget. This was something he needed to face, but maybe this wasn’t the time or she wasn’t the person. Part of her longed for Celeste to be here, she could help him through this and he wouldn’t feel obligated to be the strong adult in the room. She sighed and finally said, “Okay then. You can say that, but I’m still going to worry about you. Kind of comes with the whole giving a shit thing.” She tried to convey understanding in her features. There was no furrow in her brow or scrunch in her nose. Just calm eyes that tried to let Kaden know he wasn’t being judged here. “And that’s okay. You know that, right? I hope you know that. Maybe I can never really understand, but it does matter. Even if it’s not me, you should talk to someone and figure it out… though I have been told I’m wise beyond my years.” She said the last part a little more lightheartedly to get Kaden to stop looking like he might further grind down the flour. “But yeah, yeah, I’ll grab the dough and you can show me how it's done.”

Kaden paused a moment, still facing the dough on the counter. He would have to turn and face her eventually. Where the conversation went from here was up to him. “I haven’t been out. If that makes you feel better. On the full moon. Not for a while.” He looked down and noticed he’d been tracing small circles in the flour on the counter. He quickly used his palm to brush them away, clear the slate. He took a deep breath and finally faced her, letting it out as a sigh as he saw her face, seeing how hard she was trying to reach out. He tried to focus on what he knew. Ariana was a good kid. He wasn’t going to let her die. She was also a werewolf. He hunted werewolves. Where did that-- No. Focus. She was a werewolf who he wanted to protect. Even though she’d nearly killed him. So that meant he was questioning his codes. It had to. There was no other way to frame that, as much as he wanted to. That was something he had to grapple with. And soon. But he wasn’t sure how. Putain. Ari was so willing to help. But at the end of the day, she was still a kid, though. As much as she was like her sister, she wasn’t her. He gave her a smile, genuine but still small. “Thanks. For, uh. Just thanks.” He grabbed a small handful of flour and threw it at her, biting back laughter. “But no more bullshit. It’s time to bake.”

#kaden #wickedswriting #sibling death tw #gun use tw #mentions only

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second-chance-stray · 4 years ago

Photo

Rp Log: The door to Heartwood is blocked.

(...chronologically happens before this!)

Cravendy Hound pushes, but the machine will not budge through the door. She pushes harder. It still does not give. Cravs becomes incredibly angry and kicks it. It does not help whatsoever.

Riylli Aliapoh: "Try turning it again!" Riylli called out to Cravs, being totally helpful as she rested nearby with her hat in her lap.

Cravendy Hound: “Not ‘elpin’. ARGH.” Cravs tries to pull it out in order to adjust its angle, but finds it firmly wedged into the door frame. She takes a few steps back, and then rushes at it, her shoulder leading the attack. And for the second time that day, she regrets charging at metal.

Riylli Aliapoh: "Pfft." Riylli couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at Cravs misfortune. Serves her right for calling Miqo'te 'cat-folk'. She gets herself up on her feet, the ride back on the carbuncle having given her time to recover slightly. "Hmm... I think you got it stuck... Hope no ones inside still?"

Cravendy Hound rubs at her tender arm, wincing all the while. “.....No, there’s definitely people inside.”

Cravendy Hound: "But they're smart. They'll manage." She hopes. "Now 'ow are we gonna get this thing through?"

Riylli Aliapoh frowns, putting all of her thinking juice into the tank. "Maybe... Maybe we can take it apart, then just put it back together inside?" She offered, approaching to look the thing over, despite having no idea what she was actually looking for. "Uh... You good with machines?"

Cravendy Hound sucks air through her teeth. “Don’t think my smarts with guns translates to...to whatever this thing is. Take it apart sure, but don’t know if it’ll be put back together.”

Cravendy Hound hums in thought. “Ye think if we oil it up enough, it’ll slide through?”

Riylli Aliapoh nudged the thing with her foot. "...Maybe? Can't say I've ever had to use the stuff before. Couldn't hurt to try though, right?" She gave a helpful shrug, and another helpful nudge with her foot. "Do... we have oil? Where do we get oil?"

Cravendy Hound: “Uh.” She had not thought that far ahead. “We could go and buy some at the Botanist’s guild back in Gridania. But how many jugs of olive oil would it take to cover this thing, and...shit. Forget I said anythin’, this is a trash idea.”

Riylli Aliapoh: "Well we gotta do something!" Riylli insisted. "My votes still on taking it apart. That's what they're gonna do inside anyway right? What's it matter if we just get it out of the way now?"

(Cravendy Hound) seasoning the machine with oil and salt would just make a bad situation worse xD )) (Riylli Aliapoh) (Gotta season it properly before it can be researched (Rising Lotus) Way to go guys))

Cravendy Hound: “Well. I’m sure it’ll be fine if we just cut apart the outer bits.” She turns and picks up a conveniently placed saw from the frontyard’s forge area. “...Wait. Sawin’ through metal seems...questionable.”

(Cravendy Hound) let it marinate for a good while :D )) (Rising Lotus) how am I suppose to feed my fish now?)) (Haila Wetyios) Oh lord dont season the robot))

Cravendy Hound: “And by questionable, I mean tirin’. Argh, I want a drink.” But the drinks are inside, Cravs. The drinks are inside.

(Haila Wetyios) Kevin's geese are gonna eat it)) (Cravendy Hound) if they eat it, problem solved! Door unblocked xD )) (Cravendy Hound) but then we'll need another lmao )) (Haila Wetyios) Riylli and Cravs: " We got you the robot!" Haila: "Why is it only half of it's body?..."))

Rising Lotus strolls through the gateway to the yard, slowing down as she see's the spider they had just hauled crammed into the dooryway. "...So..." she glances at the two she caught red handed.

Riylli Aliapoh: "Duh, saws are for wood and stuff." Riylli explained, looking around at the forge set up outside. 'What we need is... Hmm... Oh!" The Miqo'te's eyes glistened as she rushed over to the fire and picked up a pair of tongs. "This thing looks perfect!"

Cravendy Hound: "................." She looks away, avoiding Rising's stare.

Riylli Aliapoh: "Rising! Good timing, you get to prove how big and strong you are." She said, flashing a grin as she held up the blacksmiths tongs towards her

Rising Lotus is at quite a loss for words, especially as Riylli ran over to grab a pair of tongs. "..What's your plan here then?" she backed up a bit as the tongs were suddenly offered to her.

Cravendy Hound: “Plannin’ to take the machine apart, cause pushin’ it ain’t workin’.” Cravs walks over and peruses the tools available. A hammer, maybe? Smash it until it’s compact enough to make it through the entryway? Hmm...

Riylli Aliapoh fiddled with the tongs, opening and closing them like they were a set of jaws. "Well, were gonna take the outside parts off the thing, and I bet you can use this to... pull it..? Like peeling an orange." She finished with a nod too confident for the current situation

Rising Lotus "Wasn't the whole point of bringin' it back more intact? I feel like it'll piss Haila off if parts of it are all smashed up, as good a plan as that is..." as she looked over the broken machine and then the doorway she was mentally picturing where to smash it to let it slide, shaking her head of the idea afterwards. " Hmm, I got an idea though, Riylli, can you magic me up a rock?"

(Haila Wetyios) im just here sitting and eating while terrified for this poor spider))

Riylli Aliapoh hesitated, still pretty drained but not about to admit it. "Er... How big? What're you planning?" She asked, absolutely not stalling for time

Cravendy Hound: “If all fails, we can smash the doorway.” In an effort to look cool, Cravs hefts the hammer over her shoulder, but nearly loses her balance as the heavier end falls to the right. The hammerhead is stopped by the stairwell, and Cravs crosses her legs a beat after. All according to plan.

Rising Lotus held her hands apart, about the size of the soccer ball. "All ball like, smooth too."

Cravendy Hound suddenly realizes that there's somewhere she needs to be, and leans back forward. "Bugger, I'll 'ave to leave ye two to it. Best of luck."

(Cravendy Hound) brb dinner! :D ))

Riylli Aliapoh rubbed the back of her head. "Well... I can't really make it into a ball. You kinda just gotta take rocks in the shape they come, unless you wanna sit there working it for bells at a time." She blinked as Cravendy suddenly ran off. "H-Hey! You can't just leave us with your mess!" She called out angrily, then huffed as she realized it was too late and the woman was gone

Rising Lotus rubbed her chin. "Well it's not gonna work if she's gone. Was gonna smash the window with the rock then help unstuck it from the inside." she looked back to Riylli. "You look a little too spent to try that kind of liftin' right now."

Riylli Aliapoh planted her hands on her hips. "I'm fine." She stated stubbornly. "Why'd it even have to be a ball if we were just gonna smash a window with it? And... I don't think Haila and the others'll be happy if we break the window"

Rising Lotus beamed. "Well, I needed you to give me a rock so I could blame ya for breakin' it of course! Figured if it'd be a fancy rock it'd make more sense that you did it." she shrugged "Beside, between the spider, the door frame, the window, whatever might get smashed ain't gonna make people happy. Window jus' seems like it'd be the easier to fix.

Haila Wetyios | Suddenly there was a loud knock on metal from the other side, it was a very alarmed Viera that immediately called out to them. "Please tell me there were no casualties when bringing this?!" she said from the inside as the big spider moved a little bit due to pushing from Haila's end of the door.

Riylli Aliapoh made a face. "Alright, I'm never making any rocks for you now-" She began, only to jump as Haila's voice suddenly rang out from inside. "Um... N-No, no casualties!" Riylli awkwardly called back. "Cravs got the thing stuck trying to fit it through the door though. And Rising was gonna break a window and blame it on me!" She tattled to the Viera mom, giving Rising another glare as she did

Rising Lotus rolled her eyes. "Yeah it went very well, thing should be mostly workin', almost no thanks to Riylli though. She wanted to smash it to get it out of the door." If the miqo'te was going to tattle she might as well too. "But now that you're here, well there, you can help us get it in.. or out maybe. Where do ya want it?

Riylli Aliapoh: "I didn't want to smash it! I wanted to PEEL it. With these tongs!" She clanged them together once more for added emphasis. "You don't need the outside part anyway, right?"

Haila Wetyios stopped trying to push at the spider from her end, for a moment if either of the two were sharp on listening in, they would have heard a sigh of relief from the Viera, followed by silence. "I can tell 'tis mostly intact... and with clean cuts to the joint too.." she murmured, clearly passing her hand over the large creature. She paused, looking it over before calling out to them once more. "How about you just peel back the flesh? It won't really need it and I can attach whatever falls off."

Haila Wetyios | That's right, a good chunk of the spider was actually covered in weird squishy flesh.

Riylli Aliapoh immediately shoved the tongs into Rising's hands, sticking out her tongue victoriously. She was an adult. A victorious adult.

Rising Lotus glared at Riylli, snapping the tongs in an attempt to catch the girl's tongue. "I'm sorry I didn't want to start takin' a killed spider apart! At least comin' from Haila I know it's safe now!" she flung the tongs onto the ground, taking the knife off the back of her belt. "Go grab somethin' to start cuttin' of your own, It's you're an' Crav's fault it's stuck after all, and she ain't here so get to it." she moved to a side of the machine, starting to cut into the fleshy parts and lobbing them>

Rising Lotus off onto the ground.

Riylli Aliapoh: "Wha- It wasn't my fault! Cravs did it all, not me. Maybe if yoouu had been around it wouldn't have gotten stuck." She chided, finally removing her coat as it was beginning to get a bit warm with it on.

Haila Wetyios sighed rather loudly this time, "Less talk and more work! Whoever brought this in could have set it on the front yard and then let everyone inside know you were back you know..."

Rising Lotus was busy carving away, mostly ignoring Riylli's complaints at this point. "You'd think this stuff would smell worse than it would, but it ain't too bad." she pulled a particularly sticky and slimy piece off "Gross feeling though."

Riylli Aliapoh eventually did approach with her own knife in hand, beginning to help carve the spider despite her complaints. "That was Cravs," She decided to chime in still, wanting a bit of revenge for getting ditched with the problem. "Please don't start eating the spider... Even hunters have limits."

Rising Lotus had made a pretty good time with her carving, most of it on her side near or almost near the metal core. " I mean, well this thing ain't natural, but if there was a real big spider you wouldn't try it? It's legs would probably be like crabs legs or somethin'." she pondered a old fashion spider boil "Though I guess if it's poisonous you shouldn't eat it."

Riylli Aliapoh had started later, but she had plenty of experience in carving animals and was making good progress. "Ugh, no... We occasionally kill banemites back home, but not even the elementals getting pissy would convince us to eat 'em." She muttered, trying not to think about it. "I ain't about to eat crabs either. Nothing but water spiders if you ask me."

(Haila Wetyios) getting pretty tired here, I think Imma call it)) (Riylli Aliapoh) (Alrights, goodnight! (Rising Lotus) Okays! We'll leave the spider and piles of flesh outside haila's door)) (Haila Wetyios) thank you guys for the rps! night night)) (Haila Wetyios) that's if they can even squeeze it into the door leading there~))

Rising Lotus "Crabs acre actually somethin' callled crustaceans! Different than spiders somehow, not sure how but that's what some fish scientist told me once." she sheathed her knife and clapped her hands together as her side was done, leaving it much slimmer than before.

(Cravendy Hound) I'm back! )) (Rising Lotus) Welcome back!))

Cravendy Hound returns, clearly inebriated. The appointment that had dragged her away from this problem earlier? Maybe not something she had to go to right away. She stumbles over, raises a bottle over her head, calls out to Riylli and Rising. “Oyyy, not done yet?”

Riylli Aliapoh: "Yeah, well, some scientists think Miqo'te are related to cats, so..." She left it at that, her thoughts on that conclusion likely obvious. She turned around to glare angrily at Cravs as she suddenly appears, and appears drunk at that. "You... This is your mess, get over here and work dammit!" She said, tossing her latest carving of flesh at her

Rising Lotus grumble as Cravs returned, bottle in hand. "Aye! Get you're drunk ass over here and push this thing in now!" following Riylli's example, she found a particularly slimy bit she cut off and lobbed it towards Cravs, grinning devilishly as she did so.

Cravendy Hound laughs as the flesh chunks smack her directly on the chest. “My mess? Was it?” She hiccups, and then takes a seat on the ground. “Yerrrr both doin’ great though. Keep up the good work.”

Riylli Aliapoh: Nope. Nopenopenope. Riylli marches over and snatches the bottle out of the drunken Cravs' hand, taking a swig for herself and refusing to give it back. "Y'know what, it's carved enough. You go push it now, doubt you'll be useful for anything else anyway." She chided angrily, complete with her hands on her hips

Rising Lotus sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose and she started to walk away from the carved up spider. "Yeah jus' hurry up and get it in, I need a drink myself after this..." after saying that though her face lit up and she pulled a flask out of her satchel. She popped the cap off and took a swig...of nothing. Damn you past Rising!

Cravendy Hound wobbles back as the bottle is taken from her hands, as stable as a pillar of jello. She doesn’t struggle at all, and instead chooses to lie down on the ground, rolled to her side. “Bloooody bilgerat...yer not me mum.” A string of incoherent half-insults and half-words follow.

Riylli Aliapoh blinks, then nudges Cravs with her foot. "It's been like... not even a bell since you disappeared. How th' hells a giant like you such a lightweight?" She let out a sigh, then took another swig. Maybe Cravs had had the right idea after all. "Alright, whatever, you're up then instead Giant Number Two." She said, motioning to Rising with the bottle

Cravendy Hound: “The secret, my fuzzy funny friend, is drinkin’ lots in a short amount of time.” And whatever is in that bottle is awfully strong. Hic!

Rising Lotus started grumbling again until it loud scoff. "You two are both useless! Both of ya get it stuck and I'm the one that has to do the most work!" she stomped over to the spider, squatting down and easily lifting the heavy machine. There was lots of swearing and grunting, but she managed to get it inside with a mighty shove, clearing the doorway. Panting, she stood in the doorway looking back at the two. "Well at least /I/ can get inside now." with a smirk she slammed the door shut >

Rising Lotus the next sound being the lock clicking closed.

(Cravendy Hound) also I was catching up and sdjfkldsfj Rising asking for a smooth rock killed me )) (Cravendy Hound) YOU LOCKED THE DOOR AAahahah xD ))

Riylli Aliapoh blinked, staring at the now locked door for one long moment before taking another big swig. "You Roegadyn are impossible..." She mutters at Cravs, then marches up to the door. "AND HOW'RE YOU GONNA GET IT THROUGH THE SECOND DOOR, GENIUS!?" Riylli yelled as loud as she could.

(Riylli Aliapoh) (Can you believe these guys helped build a town

Cravendy Hound lets out a hoot as the entrance is -finally- cleared. Alright, time to get off the ground. The bed in her room is far more comfortable than lying on the dirt. She rolls onto her stomach and then heaves up with no small amount of effort. Cravs groans, forcing left foot over right until she’s miraculously next to the door...but why won’t it open?

Rising Lotus would yell back "NOT LIKE YOU'D HELP ANYWAY! HAVE FUN SLEEPING IN THE RAIN!" she stomped up the stairs towards the bar.

Cravendy Hound: “Nnnnnoooooooo, come back. Rising, I’m gonna die out ‘ere.” A gross exaggeration, clearly, but Cravs wails nonetheless.

Riylli Aliapoh: "I DON'T EVEN LIVE HERE YOU IDIOT!" Riylli shouted right back, at this point the pair having probably woken up the neighbors. She lets out a frustrated sigh and plants her head against the door, going quiet for another long moment before finally turning to Cravs. "...So... Do you got a key or somethin'..? You ain't gonna like... Die, if I leave you out here, right?"

(Cravendy Hound) we're capable heroes! ...but not during our off hours ahah )) (Riylli Aliapoh) Front door (Savage)

Cravendy Hound blinks, uncoordinated, but snaps back to attention when Riylli asks her about dying. “SHHH, don’t tell that to Risin’! We want ‘er to open the door!” She whispers loudly.

Rising Lotus after a few minutes footsteps could be heard coming towards the door and it was unlocked, Rising opening it up and still looking quite frustrated. "..Jus' hurry up an' let her get in here so she can lay down.." she had a bottle of her own in her hand by now, and clearly wanted to get back to it once Cravs wasn't passed out on the lawn.

Riylli Aliapoh glares, muttering under her breath as she basically shoves Cravendy in through the doorway. "'Hurry up' huh? Like it's my fault you locked the damned door... I didn't sign up for this shite, I should be hunting monsters right now..."

Cravendy Hound: “..mhn, that’s right...I’m an officer.” Cravs reaches into her pocket, pulls out a key, and attempts to guide it to the keyhole. But what happens is that the door whips open, she gets pushed through, and she ends up jabbing the key at Rising.

Rising Lotus was able to catch the roegadyn as she was shoved in her direction, keeling forward a bit as the key was pushed into her gut. Taking a deep breath in she fixed her gaze at Riylli, staring daggers at her. "Well. She's in here. so then LEAVE." there was a sharpness to her words as the unfortunate Miqo'te became the target to vent all of this sudden frustration on.

(Cravendy Hound) a slowly unfolding disaster )) (Rising Lotus) Right xD? (Riylli Aliapoh) (If only Rising had just used those darn tongs (Rising Lotus) To be fair though, I think we all know how moving couches through doorways can be, this was bound to happen (Cravendy Hound) xD ))

Riylli Aliapoh: "Fine! And when Haila asks why there's a spider carcass in the lobby and guts all over the lawn, you better not leave any details out!" Riylli shot back angrily, tensions definitely running high. "I'm goin' home, good luck with the hangover." She muttered finally, and began to stomp off on her long way home

Cravendy Hound leans her full weight on Rising and wraps an arm around her shoulders. Pressed up against her, she weakly tries to defuse the budding conflict. “Oy oyy, there’s no need for fightin’...” And though it takes a while, she eventually finds her balance again. Seeing Riylli leaving, she calls out to her. "SEE YA..."

(Cravendy Hound) ...space cowboy )) (Cravendy Hound) nothing like bonding over a dangerous battle, only to lose it all over door drama pff )) (Riylli Aliapoh) (The only solution is to bond over drinking next time

Rising Lotus grunted as she was suddenly supporting Cravs, huffing as Riylli started off, the frustration in her face starting to change to regret. With a sigh she pushed it all down, rolling her eyes as Cravs said her good bye. Once she was able to stand on her own, Rising dumped her on the couch and hurried off to her room.

(Rising Lotus) lol, and it was such a successfull mission too xD (Riylli Aliapoh) The end! What a happy ending lol (Cravendy Hound) hehe door rp was so fun + funny tho xD ))

Cravendy Hound faceplants on the couch and quickly falls asleep.

#ff14 rp logs #Cravendy Hound #Riylli Aliapoh #Rising Lotus #Haila Wetyios #sdfds posted stuff out of order BUT #this one was very very good #nothing like unbonding over a monster stuck in a doorframe

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