#i still have last bits of prep to do before i put these up (blocking spoilers and some editing)
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
holy mother of fucking christ just finished a piece that took us like a week with hours of daily work and generally staying up All Night bc we hyperfocus like fucking hell. anyways expect that soon
#i still have last bits of prep to do before i put these up (blocking spoilers and some editing)#theyll all go up day by day after that the polls just helping pick an order. based on vote totals ig. idkkk#mn diary#the improvement is fucking insane btw for reals
1 note
·
View note
Text
Watch It Spark | LTF Part: 2
mbf! Joel Miller x F! Reader
Part 1
Synopsis: Your mom moves the two of you back to Texas and attempts to reignite an old flame. What will happen when she learns his candle now burns for you?
Genre: fluff, angst, and smut! the trifecta!
Warnings: divorced parents, mentions of cheating, no Sarah, no outbreak, drinking, age gap (reader is said to be in college but Joel's exact age isn't stated), Tommy's a bit of a sleaze, kissing, 18+ content, p in v sex, (un)protected sex!, lots of different sexual acts, cursing, light breeding kink mention, cockwarming?
All gif credits to owners!
A/N: Sorry this took so long! I don't wanna make excuses but on top of being super busy, I also had severe writer's block. But! Here she is! Just in time for Pedro's birthday!!!
"Shit." Joel's voice sounded out behind you.
Turning, incredulously to him, "Shit? That's all you have to say?" Not even sure what to say yourself.
"I'm sorry baby, but I don't know what else to say. I think shit actually might be the perfect sentiment in this situation." There's a bit of playfulness laced in his voice as he crosses the room to you. But the fun drops as he locks eyes with you, grabbing your hands while rubbing the backs of them with his thumbs in a comforting gesture.
"Are you okay?"
Not sure what else to do, you nod.
"I mean it was inevitable, I just didn't think she would find out like this. Thought maybe I'd be able to ease her into it...maybe...I don't know."
Joel nods as you speak, “You’ll figure it out and she’ll come around, I’m sure. Whatever happens though, I’m right here.”
When you don’t say anything, Joel uses two fingers lift up your chin so your eyes now meet his. You see the certainty in them and he repeats, “I’m right here.”
With the mood ruined, Joel returned home to let you mull over your plan. It felt weird. How do you explain to your mother that you are currently dating her crush? Not something you had on your bingo card that's for sure.
That night you paced back and forth in your room until about 11 o'clock when you decided you just couldn't take the turmoil anymore. Your mom hadn't returned home. So instead of continuing to sit in your torment, you forced yourself to go to bed.
And when you awoke in the morning, there still was no sign of her. Sighing as you closed the door of her bedroom, you dragged yourself down to the kitchen. Your one last hope was that you could put together some grand breakfast for her and it would somehow lure her home. I mean she had to come home eventually anyway, right? She might as well come home to a yummy breakfast.
So there you were sitting alone at the table with a plethora of food laid out in front of you. Not wanting to eat without her, you sat there waiting. Now, almost an hour later, the food turned cold and the house was still empty. Sighing, you pushed yourself out of your chair, made a quick plate and popped it in the microwave to heat up.
As the time ticked down, you leaned against the counter watching it spin like it would make it go faster. The microwaved beeped to signal its end and that's when the front door swung open.
Abandoning the food once again, you rushed into the living room. Your mom's eyes locked onto you immediately as you crashed into the room. Her body visibly tensed up as she sighed at your presence.
"I-I made you breakfast." You rushed out before she could leave or you lost your nerve.
"Breakfast?" Venom dripped from her voice as she repeated your words.
Snapping your mouth shut, you gulped, trying to think of what to say. That's when she sighed again and closed her eyes, pinching her nose bridge as she tilted her head to the side.
"Sweetie, I'm not mad, but I'm also not happy-"
"-I know you liked him, it's just-" You cut her off, your words coming out quick, laced with your nerves. She held up her hand, to cut you off back.
"Let me talk, because honestly I don't want to hear anything from you right now." Another sigh, this time like she was preparing to give a speech, she was. "You got so hurt last time and with your father and I, I'm just scared for you. Sure, I liked Joel but it was never more than an infatuation. I'm not mad because he was never mine to get mad over. You know the night him and Linda dropped me off?"
You nodded in conformation, she continued, "I actually tried to kiss him that night." She laughs at her own stupidity. "He dodged it, playing it off like nothing happened. I'm sure he just didn't want to embarrass me by blatantly telling me he was in a-" A pause as she looks you up and down, tongue running across her front teeth. "-relationship."
You pulled your lip between your teeth as you listened to her speak. How could she be taking this so well? You were way too used to young people drama. People like your mom and Joel knew how to communicate their feelings. Honestly, it was relieving.
"Kind of weird to admit I almost kissed my daughter's boyfriend." Your mom says with anguish. Her face scrunching up in disgust as if she didn't find him attractive just days before.
She lets herself relish in this thought for a second, before continuing again, "I just hope you are keeping yourself safe. I know I already gave you the responsible talk but this is different. I just don't want to see you hurt like the last time."
You took a second to process her words. She didn't care who you were with, she just cared that you didn't go through what you did before. It warmed your heart and relieved a lot of the pent up stress.
"Mom, this time is different. Joel he, uh, he told me himself. I actually told him what happened." Your mom knew this was big for you to tell someone about the whole cheating thing and when you told her that, she visibly relaxed.
A smile graced her lips as she made her way over to her. She held your cheek in her head. You relaxed into the touch, closing you eyes in relief.
"You're happy with him, I can tell. So like I said I'm not mad. A little sad I missed my chance but there will always be someone else. He's good for you, I'm sure of it."
You smiled at her and leaned in to peck your forehead before wrapping you into her arms and holding you tightly. Her body heat radiating you with all the love only a mother had for her child. She pulled away a bit later, holding you at arms length.
"Although, the age difference is a bit much. That one took me a minute to get over." Laughs laced her voice as she spoke.
"I know, took me a bit to accept the initial attraction too but he's just so..." Your voice trailed off, unsure of what to say. She only smiled to this and nodded.
"I understand, that's how I felt about your father when I met him too." A sad smile now formed as she looked down and you knew she was thinking about how it had turned out for her and him. Now it was your turn to comfort her as you rubbed your hands down her arms.
She shook the thoughts out of her head and sucked back the tears that were pricking her eyes. "Okay! Now, tell me everything. How you guys met! The first date! I want to hear everything."
Letting her drag you to the couch while laughing uncontrollably at her excitement. The rest of the day the two of you could not stop talking as you told her everything.
After hours of chatting, your mom finally called it a night. All but pushing you out the door to go see Joel. Mumbling something about how he must be on the edge of his seat. You giggled at her antics, it was almost unbelievable how quickly she had gotten over it and was now your number one supporter.
So now you found yourself knocking at Joel's door. When he opened it there was a small look of shock on his face.
"Wasn't expecting you to be over so soon, sugar." He said as he pulled you into a quick hug. Breathing in his scent for a second, you sighed, content.
"It went better than expected." Your words were muffled by his chest since you refused to release yourself from his grasp. Not like Joel was complaining.
"Good, I'm glad." He spoke into your hair before placing a soft kiss there. A second more of holding you before Joel is pushing you out to arms length. He searches your face for a second before bringing his lips to yours.
The kiss is slow, like he is learning the feel of them for the first time. It makes you putty in his hands. The stress that somehow was still all pent up inside of you, now finally melting away.
You felt safe. You felt loved. Joel was home for you and in that moment you knew that this was real. Joel was real.
And that night as you settled into his bed and into his arms everything in your past seemed to fade away. It was only you and him.
Smiling into his chest, you fell into a deep slumber.
The morning sun shining through the curtains of Joel's room woke you up. Reaching to the other side of the bed, you find nothing but cold sheets. Confusion washes for you for only a second in your half-awake state, until you hear the steady beat of shower water coming from the connected bathroom.
You take a second to lay in the silence, just listening to the drops of the water. Before an idea pops into your head and you are smirking to yourself.
Pushing off of the bed, you make your way into the bathroom, shredding off pieces of clothes as you go. Joel seems unaware of your presence so you are careful not to scare him too bad as you slide the shower curtain down the rod just enough for you to slip in.
He only jumps a bit as your arms wrap around him. Turning in them to face you.
"Hello." He says to you when his eyes meet yours.
"Hi." You whisper back, pulling him in closer to you, your head now resting on his chest. He lets out a light chuckle while rubbing your back in soothing circles.
To ensure you don't fall, you shift slightly on the wet surface. This causes Joel to let out a soft grunt, his now hardening member brushing against your thigh. It causes you to smirk and pull away, looking up at him.
"I barely hugged you and you're already this excited?" You question.
Something between a chuckle and a grunt passes through his lips, "Not my fault that you came in here all naked. It's human nature, baby." A pause while he drops his head down so his lips can brush your ear, "Remember when I said I wasn't as old as I seemed."
He nips your earlobe after speaking, an action that sends a rush down your spine. Heartbeat speeding up as he continues to breath right next to your sensitive skin, goosebumps popping up despite the warmth of the shower water.
He trails kisses down from your ear, across your chest, and up your neck. One kiss to your jaw, one to each cheek, one to your forehead, before pecking your lips. Pulling away way too soon for your liking as you try and chase his lips with your own.
Now Joel is smirking seeing how desperate you already are for him after making fun of him only moments before. Yet he decides that neither of you really need the teasing so early in the morning so his reserve goes out the window and he's connecting his lips to yours.
The kiss is slower than usual, the intensity not fully there since both of you only just woke up. It is slow, yet passionate. Your lips meet like they were meant for each other. Tongues only barely fighting each other as neither of you really wanted to take dominance of the situation.
And as Joel's fingers slowly make there way down the middle of your stomach, finding your sensitive bud soon after, yours are wrapping around his waist and pulling him even closer to you. You gasp as his fingers move your clit in slow methodical circles. The feeling makes your legs weak, but you quickly recover when you remember where you are and how easily you could fall.
The thought almost makes you laugh but that is also quickly forgotten when the finger that was just working your clit, makes its way into your folds, testing your entrance. It seems like Joel contemplates if you are ready for a second so you keen towards him a bit to egg him on. That's when his finger finally enters you, working its way in and out of you in time with his lips on yours.
Your hands now find their way in between his legs. You try to stroke his dick in the same pace as his fingers in you, but your brain has become a bit foggy. This only gets worse when Joel begins quirking his fingers inside of you in an attempt to find that particular spot inside of you.
"Come on baby, you know you want to give in." He says into your lips. The words come out almost desperate and the gruff nature of his voice has you melting. If you were an ice cube you would be down the drain already.
"I just want you inside of me. It's too early for all your teasing." Your words are now the ones that are desperate, as you fully grip his cock and stroke it quickly trying to urge him closer to wanting to fuck you.
He laughs at your actions and pushes your hands off of him, fingers also retreating from their still steady pace inside of you. Grabbing your hips with such careful hands, so careful that you almost question if this is the same man. Usually so rough with you that you are sure that even his callouses could leave marks.
Flipping you around he bends you at the hips and pushes you towards the wall, careful not to let the two of you fall. Your hands make contact with the cold tile and if you weren't so gone you would've pulled them away instinctually.
That's when he leans over you and whispers into your ear, "I'm going to fuck you now, but the way I want to. Nice and slow. One sound and I stop, understood?"
You open your mouth to answer, but snap it closed and nod instead.
"Good girl." Joel kisses the bit of jaw he can reach before he is standing back up straight.
One hand finds your waist and pulls you back into him. Your hands almost slip from the wet tile that is holding you up, but you recover. Just in time for the tip of his dick to tease your entrance.
Joel gathers the your wetness and strokes it down his member, covering it in preparation to enter you. When he is satisfied with his job he pushes his tip past your folds. Very slowly he enters you. And after what feels like an eternity he bottoms out inside of you.
The feeling has you gulping down a gasp that is threatening to leave your lips. Sure Joel has fucked you pretty much every which way, but there is something about right now that you are finding it so much harder to follow instructions. You just want to let him know how good he makes you feel.
And before you can fully let this thought circulate, Joel is pulling out of you painstakingly slow. The type of slow that almost hurts but also fills you with so much pleasure that you could forget your own name.
This is how he continues, this slow, painful pace. In and out of you. All the way from tip to base, each action feels like it could be a full minute of white hot pleasure. Joel holds your orgasm over your head like a pig with a carrot on a stick. Kept on a tight leash, with your lips also kept shut tight.
You're not sure how he is holding himself back at this point but, obviously, you don't question it. too scared of what would happen if you let anything escape your lips.
One particularly harsh thrust has his hips snapping into yours and involuntarily you are pushing your back into his, trying to get him even closer. Like that was possible.
This has him tutting at you and gripping your hips a bit rougher, "Like the way my dick fills you up baby?"
You want to answer, you really do but you just bite your lip instead. He seems to notice you holding back and laughs lightly at you.
Pulling out of you and flipping you around to face him. He pecks your forehead before lifting one leg around his hip. You almost lose your balance as he pushes you back into the wall, so you have at least a little bit of support.
"Let me give you what you really want." Joel says as he enters you once again. "Wanna see the look on your face as you cum on my dick, pretty girl."
Now he's pistoning you onto his dick, letting you feel as much of his length as he can with how tightly your leg is wrapped around him. Its like your body wants to keep him permanently inside of you, not like your brain disagrees though.
Just like that, a few thrusts later and you are getting closer to your orgasm. Your body giving in so easily and it's heightened state. You never knew how malleable morning sex would make you.
And as your vision is beginning to be clouded by stars and your stomach is tightening, a whimper escapes your lips before you can catch it. Joel's hips stop abruptly and so does your orgasm.
Your eyes snap open to meet his. They just stare back blankly, almost no emotion because you know what you did. You want to plead with him, maybe complain that you were close but you don't. Silence watches over you.
Joel sits there staring at you, member half inside of you. Your pussy clenches onto it, as if trying to urge him into giving in. But it isn't until you are dropping your eyes from his that he's leaning forward and capturing your lips in his own. He kisses you for a moment, slow and steady, still just warming his cock inside of you.
"I know you were close baby, but you knew the rules." He says in a way that it almost sounds like an apology. But that is long forgotten as he snaps his hip forward into you and hits your g spot in one perfect thrust.
The urge to moan again is intense that you are biting down on your lip. For a second you question if you would draw blood, but decide the pleasure is way important right now. As your head tosses back meeting the cool tile.
With how close your orgasm was before it isn't long before you are reaching your peak once again. Your stomach clenches again and vision blurs. Although this time you are conscious of the sounds you would normally make and hold them back. As the wave crashes over you and you are spasming into Joel's body.
Joel's strong arms hold you up as your legs go weak under you, the wet floor making it all too easy for you to just go down. The leg around his hips also loosens but he grips that thigh holding it there as he begins to chase his own orgasm.
The feeling of your walls clenching around him getting him dangerously close to his own peak. His teeth find your neck in an attempt to hold back his orgasm, not wanting to cum into you without a condom (or permission).
"Baby-" He grunts out, pain laced in his voice. You catch the tone immediately and try to find you feet. Although it takes you a second, in that second he is pulling out of you and stroking his dick in an attempt to reach his orgasm.
Without a second thought you are dropping to your knees and swatting his hands away replacing them with your own. The minute your mouth meets the tip of his member, he is shooting his load into your waiting cavern. Swallowing it all down as you stroke him slowly, working him through his high.
Joel's hands grip your hair as he comes down from his high. When he has come back down to earth, his fingers loosen and instead he is stroking your head in a comforting gesture.
Giving him another second to recover before you stand up to attach his lips to your own. Now he is melting into your touch as he tastes himself on your lips.
"I love you." This has you pausing and stepping back. You are sure you didn't hear him right. Seeing the look on your face a playful smile graces his own.
"Y/N I love you." Joel repeats.
"I-I love you too." You want to jump into his arms, but obviously you don't want to break your leg...or his.
"Why did you have to tell here?" Now you are hitting his chest, leaving the hand there, just needing to feel him. He laughs at your antics, but let's you continue, knowing you well enough to know you aren't done yet.
"I'm all wet and I just woke up. I have sex brain. Uh!" Another hit, this one has him grabbing your wrist and pulling you towards him carefully.
"I feel like that's the perfect time." Joel says with a smile, leaning down to place a kiss on your pouting lips.
"I feel like that's the perfect time." You mock him which has him laughing again. Another kiss is placed on your lips, this one continues a bit longer as if he is savoring the feeling of yours on his.
The blush is evident on your cheeks but you aren't giving up, "Just finish up in here, I'm going back to bed." A huff and you are leaving the shower. Joel's laugh echoes behind you.
When you told Joel to finish up, you didn't think he would take this long. At this rate you should've just stayed in there and washed yourself too. Instead you have dried yourself off already and are sat crisscross on Joel's bed. His shirt adorning your body and a towel wrapped around your still damp hair.
You have a book resting on your legs as you read in silence. Hearing the water turn off in the bathroom, you smile down at your book knowing Joel will be out soon.
Just as the sink faucet is switched on, the front door opens and a familiar voice sounds out through the house. The bathroom door is all but slammed open at the booming voice. Joel stands there towel around his waist, toothbrush between his lips. A bit of toothpaste is threatening to spill out of the corner of his mouth and you bite back a smile.
"Tommy." Joel says, the words a bit muffled by the brush and paste in his mouth.
Your eyes widen. No you weren't scared to meet his brother, I mean you have technically met him before. It was just you wanted to make a semi good impression and well here you were in only your underwear.
But before you can make any change to that Tommy's footsteps are thudding down the hallway and the door to Joel's bedroom is swinging open, with not so much as a knock.
"Joel!" Tommy calls out just as his eyes drop to yours. You are quickly pushing your legs straight under the covers in any attempt to cover yourself.
Tommy's jaw drops, "You!" Your eyes stay open wide not sure what is going to come out of his mouth next. Joel stays stuck in the doorway, not sure what to do either.
Then Tommy laughs, like a whole belly laugh. Loud, resounding. He doubles over holding his stomach. That's how funny he finds this whole situation.
It's almost a minute before he is recovering from his fit, wiping the tears that formed in the corners of his eyes. Both you and Joel are still stood there in shock. Watching his brother with semi-concerned eyes.
"The girl from the bar!" Tommy points to you, then to Joel. "And you! You old dog. Joel's still got it, huh?" He nods as if he's just discovered something.
Another chuckle and he's looking back at you, "Damn."
"Tommy..." Joel tests the waters, still not fully sure what to say to him.
"This is, just wow!" Then Tommy does something that is even more astounding. He slow claps. Actually slow claps like he's in some movie.
He does this for a second or two before looking between you and Joel, nodding slowly. You clear your throat, trying to attempt anything to clear the awkward air of the situation.
"I'm Y/N, by the way." A tight smile comes with your words. Hand leaving its grip on your book to give a small wave to the man.
He's still nodding, "Tommy-" He weighs his words. "I'm gonna go." And with that he is turning on his heel.
Yelling a quick, "Good job big bro!", before the front door is closed behind him.
As soon as the lock is clicking, you and Joel turn to each other. Still in shock, before you are giggling.
"Well, were two for two on family first meetings. Got any other family members I could awkwardly meet?"
Joel smiles at you before he is retreating to bathroom to spit out his long forgotten toothpaste. Returning to the room , he crawls across the foot of the bed towards you, like a lion stalking his prey.
"No, but honestly that's the best it could've gone with Tommy so don't feel bad." A kiss to your lips.
"I don't feel bad, I feel embarrassed." You say as you trace a finger down his jaw. He melts into your touch.
"I mean look at me!" You gesture to your lack luster clothing... or lack of clothing.
Lust flashes behind his eyes, "I think you look sexy." You almost hit him again but hold back.
"Of course you do, I'm wearing your shirt."
Joel considers your words for a second, "Is that what it is? Sure it isn't how I'm still thinking about how badly I wanted to fill you with my cum earlier?"
Your jaw drops, actually drops at his words. But two can play at this game.
"So why didn't you?" Hands play with the hairs at the nape of his neck, a shiver runs down his spine.
"You," A poke to your nose, "were in no mindset to give me permission, pretty girl. Not to mention, you were keeping those pretty lips shut." As he mentions your lips, he glances down at them. You readjust your body so your tits brush his chest. Nipples hardening at the sensation.
"Now I'm thinking about how much I missed out." You try, wanting to get one response in particular from Joel.
"Well, what my baby wants, she gets." Joel says matter-of-factly. Grabbing your hips and pulling you to lay down beneath him. You feel his hardening member brush your thigh.
"Mr. Miller, already so hard again?" You question the sound of fake astonishment in your voice.
"Shut up and let the whole neighborhood hear how good I make you feel. Gonna get you so full of my cum, sugar."
Needless to say, neither you nor Joel left the bed that day.
Taglist:
@wh0reforbucknasty @guelyury @shibeom @theoraekenslover @deathsholywaterr @azxulaa @untamedheart81 @akah565 @shadowmoonlight0604 @papi-ispunk
I just went ahead and tagged everyone that mentioned wanting a part two :)
#fanfiction#fanfic#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#the last of us#joel miller#pedro pascal x reader#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#tlou joel#the last of us joel#last of us joel#joel the last of us#joel tlou#joel miller fanfic#joel miller smut#dbf joel miller smut#dbf! joel miller#dbf! joel miller smut#mbf! joel miller#dbf joel miller#dbf!joel#last of us fanfiction#the last of us fanfiction#last of us smut
377 notes
·
View notes
Text
A continuation of this:
Outside time is heavily monitored but fairly regular. Simon keeps nearby and you learned early on that he’s more than capable of crossing the yard in the time it takes for you to even consider trying to scale the tall fence. It’s one of the only times he’s actually put hands on you, carefully restraining you and then letting go once you were both safely inside again. You sported one, singular bruise that he fussed over despite your hissing and cursing.
What about when he’s away on missions? He has the ability to call you, and you him, though you don’t. He preps well in advance for being gone. Frozen stews that you can heat up. Pre-cut meat if you want to cook. Frozen veggies aren’t GREAT, but he’s left some vitamin supplements and dried fruits.
When he gets back, he always gives you a once over. Usually from afar, but if he sees something that concerns him, he’ll have to try to coax you closer. After the first two times he cornered you just to inspect a stupid bruise, you learned to tolerate the poking and prodding with minimal snarling, biting, and yanking.
He’s got a plan if something happens to him too. Johnny will, of course, take over your care.
You didn’t think you could get angrier at anyone more than Simon, until he brings a strange Scottish man into your HOME, the place you’re SAFE. And the man takes one look at you, whistles, and murmurs, “isn’t she a beaut?”
You may or may not try to strangle him with his own dog tags. Simon may or may not laugh at his dumb friend before expertly prying you off. You take a bite out of him too, but he’s used to it by now. Just shakes out his arm and ushers you off, chuckling “go sulk in a corner, little one.”
And you do, but not because he told you to. In fact, you make it a point to scowl at Johnny the entire time he’s there, always just within view but far, far away. You’re pissed at Simon too. Can’t believe there’s TWO of them now.
When Johnny finally leaves, Simon tries to coax you from your room - there are no locks, but he understands what it means when you’ve cocooned yourself on the high bunk of your bed.
“You’re not going to come down?” He croons.
“Fuck off,” you grumble.
“Not even if I have a peace offering?”
You poke your head out and lean over the railing a bit, peering down narrow-eyed and terribly grumpy. Simon forces himself not to coo at you, it’ll just make you crankier. He holds up a new book - one you’ve been talking about wanting.
“Have something to go with this if you come down,” he entreats.
And well, you’re hungry anyway. So you clamber down, wrinkling your nose when he tries to scratch behind your ear. Then he leads you out, to the back of the house which has been blocked off for the last month. There’s a new door - he pops it open, revealing a closed in patio.
“Plexiglass,” he explains as you creep outside. “So you’ll be safe but can still see the yard.”
It’ll get a lot of light, you’ll see the rain. There are little tables and cushions and a daybed with blankets. It’s - damn him - perfect.
“Is… he coming by again?” you ask, feeling at a soft pillow.
“Johnny? Probably not, unless I die.”
You twist, looking alarmed.
“Not likely to happen,” he soothes, ruffling your hair just to see you pout and swat at him. “Have someone relying on me after all.”
You blush again. You’ve been doing that a lot. He lets you snatch the book from his hands.
“Unless you want him to come by again? You could use a little socializing, feral thing.”
He’s right, but Simon is barely tolerable, never mind is friends.
“Hmph.”
“Alright, maybe in a couple weeks.”
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
If I can’t have you baby, no one else in this world can. ʅ(◞‿◟)ʃ
I hope everyone likes it! This is part two of my other Toji fic where he was jealoussssss~ I hope u all enjoy :3 (part one linked at da bottom)
Tags: Dacryphillia (brief), Rough sex, Mentions of Murder, Mean Toji, He talks abt marrying you during sex????? (not clickbait)(gone wrong)(gone sexual), Spanking (kinda brief too), JEALOUS TOJI!!!, very light bondage, HES SWEET BUT IN SUBTLE WAYS!!, Degrading, Overstimulation, Thigh Fucking (brief), Doggy Style, Mating Press
I couldve missed some tag sorryyyyyyy, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!
——————
Toji hadn’t heard from you in a week. A whole week of no contact from you, and he could feel his eye twitch as he knocked on your door.
And he was even more angry when you opened the door with a bratty pout on your face. “What do you want Fushiguro?” You huffed out, frowning at him.
He had to resist the urge to lean forward to smother you entirely. He treats you real nice and you wanna call him by his last name? Like he didn’t have you screaming his first name only a week prior? “Wanna know why you’re ignoring me, baby.” He tries his luck with being sweet with you first, a disingenuous smile on his face.
He quickly regrets the sweet act when you roll your eyes in his face. “Made me block my other guy.” You muttered out, and Toji felt his hand fist up for a moment. “He was a good fuck,” you started off, stupid of you to do in Toji’s opinion “and you made me block him like you’re up here all that often anyways. Can’t keep me satisfied and got rid of the one who could.”
By the end of your sentence, Toji had reached the end of his patience. He leans forward, and his hand grips your shoulder for a moment. “Im gonna go, and I’m gonna bash that guys skull in. And when I’m done you’re gonna be on the bed, where I’m gonna fuck you so hard you forget your own name. Ok?” He was at a borderline whisper, and you felt yourself shuddering at the threat he spoke last time being reiterated.
You throw yourself to hug him when he goes to turn. The idea of some man dying just for getting his dick wet didn’t sit right with you. “Tojiiiii,” You whined out, looking at him as pitifully as you could. “I didnt mean it Toji, I was just trying to get you riled up.” You admitted bashfully (in a poor attempt to earn pity points from a man who doesn’t pity anything), ignoring how hot your face felt when you heard - and felt - his chuckle at the confession.
You’re led into your place, a hand gently cradling your back as you’re led to your room and you can’t help but think that your confession had subdued Toji’s anger, even momentarily.
So imagine your surprise when you find your face smushed into the bed, hands tied behind your back when a soft satin ribbon and your ass in the air. And the first time his hand landed on your ass it was shocking enough to make you jolt forward with a small squeal. The hits that came after still earning groans and grunts of pain from you.
Even if he wouldn’t admit it, he was being soft on you, he always was. But he made a promise that you would forget your own name and he intended to hold true on that.
“Fucking whore” he huffed, another smack landing on your ass “bratty bitch, gotta be put back in your place.” His hands grip your hips and you squirm in anticipation.
His fingers find their way inside you first, working you open with so much precision you felt he was playing you like an instrument. Three fingers deep inside, and god did they hit the perfect spots each time. “You tryna get dick from someone else? I’m all you need baby.” He says, jealous vemon laced in every word.
“Just you Toji, ‘m sorry, didn’t mean it.” You whined, and you hear a cruel laugh as his fingers leave you. “Now I’m Toji? Not Fushiguro?” He questions in a mean tone even as his hands massage your back.
(He said it was to help with prep when he first did it. Your questioning leaving him a bit scrambled before he claimed it made the sex better. You had believed him at first, until you realized it was just a small act of care. You never called him on it, you enjoyed it even.)
“Begging isn’t gonna work on me this time, cute little whore.” Toji says with a mocking coo, pushing his pants down to pump his dick with his own fist a few times. And as he stares at your back, he can’t help but want to break his own promise and just fuck into you. Not that he actually would, but he was tempted.
He slips his dick between your thighs, thrusting lightly and kissing at your neck. “Talking about another guy in front of me, giving me a bitchy ass attitude,” he seems to be recounting his grievances with you, a hand reach to grip your waist when you try to grind down onto the dick between your thighs. “Don’t know who you belong to yet? That it? Maybe I should put a ring on your finger and make you understand.” He groans, listening to your pleads for him to just put it in already.
And when he finally complies it’s like bliss. His hand is gripping your wrists before he unties the ribbon holding them together. Your hands grip the sheets at either side of you, and you sigh happily as he kisses your poor red wrists. You turn your head, kissing him on his cheek.
Toji’s mind seems to blank for a moment before he’s pulling out and flipping you onto your back. And with your legs thrown over his shoulders as your bent almost in half, he fucks you into a mating press so brutal that your mind blanks.
“Gonna make you mine baby, put a ring on your finger. You’re never gonna get away from me.” He grunts and almost growls, watching your eyes roll back with tears streaming down your face. “Gonna keep you locked in, you love saying my last name so much, now you’re gonna share with me.” His thrusts were deep, and hard, and agonizingly perfect that you could help but violently twitch as an earth shattering orgasm runs through you.
He fucks you through it, and you feel an awful sense of deja-vu as you go hurtling toward your next one.
Toji grabs your left hand, and you stare at him in a stupid, fucked dumb look of curiosity and whined when he bit your ring finger hard. And you whined even more when he forced his own left ring finger into your mouth, telling you to bite hard. You comply and watch him fill with a sinful glee. “There you go baby, it’s our wedding rings.” He says with a soft grin, his brutal thrusts being an absolute opposite of the look.
With orgasm three coming quick, you’re almost relieved to feel his rhythm falter and stutter, and you scream into the room filled with sweat and sex as you feel another final brutal slam of his pelvis into yours, and you feel your insides fill up with his cum.
He pulls out, getting up and walking to the bathroom, and you sigh through closed and tired eyes as you feel him wipe you down with a warm damp cloth and few minutes later. A blanket is thrown over you both as he spoons you.
His thumb traces the bitemark he left on your finger, you completely pliant and stupid in his arms. You couldn’t seem to think of an answer when he looked at you with a devilish smile and innocently asked “so, what’s your name?”
*
The next morning, waking up to Toji cuddled up with you and a subtle rumbling snore coming from him had to be the best feeling in the world.
Your legs were jelly, and when Toji woke up and had finally pulled himself up, he brought you water and a small plate of fruits. You watch him get dressed with a pout. “Toji…where are you going so soon?”
He turns and the smile he had was an almost boyish expression. “I told you last night,” You felt your blood freeze for a moment as you stared at Toji, your legs unable to move.
“Im gonna go bash that guys skull in.” He left a small peck on your forehead and a promise that he would he back soon.
God you hope that other guy had a quick death, if nothing else.
—————
UH….SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG… LOTS OF THOUGHT PUT INTO THIS ONE!!
Requests open :3
#jjk#jjk fanfic#fanfic#jjk smut#toji smut#toji x you#toji x reader#toji fushiguro#smut#requests open
364 notes
·
View notes
Text
For Lovers At Night part 5
My too much gene kicked in so there’s one more chapter of this fic coming. Enjoy! Previous chapter
The text puts a knife in her chest causing her to let out a sob, hand flying to her mouth to cover it. Getting up she walks with her phone in hand out the hall through the doors breaking down only when she’s outside. Letting the sob escape her throat she doesn’t care that it’s starting to drizzle. Taking several deep breaths she tries to stop crying long enough to call you. As the dial tone rings, Melissa feels like her heart is going to fly out of her chest and not in a good way.
“Hello?” A voice on the other end sighs.
“Hon, can we talk please? I need to talk to you.” Melissa’s voice wobbles as she speaks a mile a minute.
You’d never heard her sound like this, so small and unsure of herself in the time that you’ve known her.
“There’s a lot we have to talk about apparently.” You hum. “I need a bit of time, Melissa.”
“Time?” She asks quietly, “how much time?” She’s all but pleading with you at this point and she doesn’t care how she sounds. “I can’t lose you.” She whispers.
The line goes quiet for a moment until you speak again. “I need to gather my thoughts about everything. I think you owe me that much.”
“Okay,” Melissa takes a deep breath. “Just please don’t shut me out.”
“I’d never do that. I’m not an asshole, Melissa. I’m hurt and I need time. I’ll talk to you soon.”
The call ends and Melissa brings her hands to her face holding in a scream. In a matter of hours her entire life got flipped around in a way she never thought would happen. After a few more minutes outside Melissa breathes trying to calm herself to go back to her kids. Going back inside Abbott she cleans up her desk and tucks the card you sent into her purse before the tears start flowing again.
A couple blocks over you busy yourself cleaning up the store and bar in prep for the night ahead.
“you’ve been cleaning that same spot on the bar for ten minutes.” Your friend and colleague Jacob says coming up beside you.
“I’m- yeah,” you shake your head moving down the slab of granite. “My head is in the clouds.”
“And you don’t have that dopey lovesick smile on your face.” Jacob hums, “was it too soon for flowers?” He winces.
“Considering her husband posted on her Facebook for their anniversary last month, I’m gonna say yeah too soon,” You huff tossing the rag down with a sigh.
“Oh no,” Jacob lets out slow and full of pity.
“Don’t do that, dude. I dont need that right now okay? I need to get through this weekend and figure out what the hell to say to her.”
“How did this all happen?”
Looking at your friend with a sigh you slouch forward crossing your arms.
“I looked her up because she’s so mysterious ya know? I looked and she came up, still has old pictures of him and that damn post on her wall. I don’t know what to think at this point.” You shrug completely confused and hurt.
She definitely wasn’t lying about being with women before, that much you knew and the way she looked at you felt real. She looked at you like she loved you. Talking to her on the phone and hearing the sadness in her voice made you even more conflicted.
“You have feelings for her right?” He asks leaning against the bar.
“I’d be stupid not to wouldn’t I?” you scoff.
“Theres your answer. Hear her out and talk to her when you’re ready.” Jacob advises the only way he knows how.
Thinking about your friend’s words for the rest of the day, you go through the motions at work putting on your best fake smile as you greet and chat with customers. As you cater to your patrons your phone sits on your office desk buzzing with a text chain from Melissa you don’t see until much later.
When you get up to your apartment that night you get ready for bed shuffling over to the mattress feeling almost disgusted with yourself. You slept with a married woman and you had no idea if she was telling the truth or not about how she was treated by her husband. The post you saw online rubbed you the wrong way, you were still friends with enough people from your hometown to know what a bad relationship looks like yet you still didn’t know for sure.
Laying on your back you look at the ceiling with a sigh. Now or never, you grab your phone looking at the long string of texts you have from Melissa.
I know you said you needed time but I need you to know I meant everything I said to you. About my family, work, how I feel about you.
I know I fucked up and I’m so sorry. More sorry than you’ll ever know, Amore.
Please don’t push me away.
Dropping the phone onto your nightstand you turn over curling under your blankets wanting to sleep the day away. Only sleep doesn’t come. Tossing and turning with racing thoughts of the redhead you dissect every moment carefully from when you met up until you kissed her goodbye after your date and every single moment puts a ghost of a smile on your lips. Her still calling you ‘Amore’ in the texts made this even harder for you. Closing your eyes you listen to the raindrops hit your window and thunder rumble in the pitch dark.
At the same time, Melissa is overtired and wanting desperately to sleep but she can’t stop the tears or her thoughts from keeping her body awake. She’s never felt like this before in her entire adult life and she knows it’s her fault. She should have never lied in the first place and she sure as hell should have never let Kristen Marie put her on Facebook.
when Joe posted that message on her page it didn’t effect her, she already knew it was for the show he constantly put on for her family of being a good husband when they are all aware he is anything but. What she hadn’t known was he made it public, and now the thought of losing you and explaining everything to her family makes her chest ache.
The following day for you is strange. When you wake at your usual ten am, it takes everything in you not to grab your phone and send Melissa a good morning text as you’d come accustom to. Instead you lay there for a few minutes enjoying the sound of birds outside along with the usual traffic. Getting up and going about your morning proves difficult for you. Once ready for your day you check the time, realizing Melissa had her lunch break in less than two hours. Picking up the device with a sigh you send a quick message.
Can you meet me the cafe near Abbott during your lunch?
In a classroom not far away Melissa’s heart jumps when she sees her phone light up. Opening it immediately she feels hopeful reading the message, glad her students were in gym at that very moment. Not wanting to test her luck too much she replies with a simple yes I can then gets up practically jogging to Barbara’s classroom.
“Hey, I have to cancel our lunch plans today. She wants to meet at the cafe.” She can’t stop the smile from crossing her lips.
“Melissa, be careful with that woman.” Her best friend warns. “You still have to deal with all the legal proceedings with Joe and your mother.”
Melissa nods shoving her hands in her pockets. “I know, I know that. I just really need to see her Barb.” She shrugs with a small smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
Barbara looks at her friend in astonishment. “You love this woman.” She comes to the realization. “Go on during lunch, you text me as soon as you get back here.” She points.
As Melissa’s break time approaches you walk the couple blocks to the cafe on the corner, wondering if you’d see her coming from the school from the window. Sitting there waiting you order a water trying to keep your cool while mindlessly scrolling on your phone. As you do you receive a text from Jacob.
Hear her out and remember she’s hurting too
Letting out a sigh you tuck the phone in your pocket. When you lift your head you’re met with the sound of the door chime and green eyes landing on you. Standing up at the table you don’t make a move, gesturing for Melissa to sit across from you.
“Hey,” you let out not breaking eye contact with the woman. Even dressed in her work clothes she was absolutely stunning. “You look as tired as I feel.
“Yeah,” Melissa takes a seat wanting so badly to hug you. “I didn’t really sleep.”
“That makes two of us,” you nod pushing one of the two coffees in front of you forward.
Melissa looks at you with a grateful not picking up the drink. Just how she likes it she thinks.
“So uh, I’ve never had to do this before.” You shrug not sure where to start.
“And I’m not good with the whole feelings thing.” Melissa adds playing with the corner of a napkin. “I know you owe me nothing, but let me explain everything?” She asks softly.
While you were upset, an explanation is exactly what you wanted. Nodding, you urge her to go on.
Taking a breath the redhead fiddles with the napkin between her fingers. “What I told you about him, everything is true. The cheating, the lying, the not caring, it’s all true. We were young and stupid when we got married, and he didn’t wanna miss out on being one of the guys.” She shrugs taking a breath.
“You’re not gonna tell me you two have kids are you?”
“No,” Melissa shakes her head immediately. “No kids, just an overbearing family on my side.” She chuckles. “In fact, my brother and cousins threatened to kill him after they found out he cheated on me the first time.”
Letting out a puff of laughter you shrug. “Can’t blame them. It’s the Italian-American way.”
Melissa ducks her head with a small smile, eyes going to the paper. “Yeah. And I ain’t saying I’m a saint, I cheated when I was a teenager but as an adult? Never did. My marriage started out fine, but a few years in he got sloppy with hiding it. I never cared enough to ask for a divorce because growing up my mother made a big deal about marriage but anyway,” She shrugs it off not wanting to get emotional. “I didn’t think any of it mattered and I wasn’t good enough for anyone else so why go through the hassle?”
Looking over the woman’s features you see a mixture of sadness and pleading in her eyes as she nibbles her bottom lip.
“What changed?” You ask quietly resting your hand on the table almost touching the redheads.
“you made me feel like a woman that was desirable and worth talking to.”
“Melissa, I can’t mess around with a married woman.” You sigh shaking your head. “I meant what I said in that card, I-“ before you can finish your sentence Melissa hits you with another bomb.
“I asked Joe for a divorce.”
Sitting stunned you just blink at her for a moment.
“He was there at the school when those flowers were delivered. Which are beautiful by the way.” The redhead gives a shy smile.
“Well fuck.” You sit back in shock taking in the information.
“Hon, It was the best thing that coulda happened to me, I finally told him how miserable I was and that’s what I needed to do,” Her eyes water, the dam about to break again as her voice turns to a whisper. “And you gave that to me even- even if that means I lose you.”
Extending your fingers you turn your hand, palm up to the redhead, your fingers entwining together a moment later. “You’re not gonna lose me, Mel. I just-“ you sigh, “I need to process everything and I bet you do too.” It had been a strange twenty four hours and you still couldn’t believe the woman you were in love with was still someone else’s wife.
Feeling the warmth and gentle squeeze from Melissa’s hand you lean forward slightly meeting her eyes. “Let’s take things slow, start over.” You suggest.
“I can do that.” The redhead nods. As long as she could keep you that’s all she cared about.
“Okay,” you give her a soft smile gently pulling away. The rest of your short time together comes easy, the awkwardness chipping away as you two sit and talk as you usually did.
Tapping the screen of her watch Melissa sighs knowing the forty five minutes she spent with you wasn’t long enough but would have to do for today.
“Back to the rugrats?” You ask knowing her lunch wasn’t very long.
“Yeah, Barb is getting ‘em from recess for me. I uh, thank you for talkin to me, hon.”
“I’d never ghost you or ignore you, Mel.” You shake your head leading her out the door of the cafe. “I really, really like you. I meant that. Now we can just pump the breaks a bit yeah? You and your family are going through a lot now.”
“Yeah,” Melissa lets out in a puff of laughter. “I can’t wait to be interrogated by my ma and Nana later at dinner.”
“In that case I’d say that’s punishment enough.” you chuckle putting your hands in your pockets, still a bit of space between you two as you stand there on the sidewalk. “Well, I’ll see you later, Mel.”
“Can- hon, can I have a hug?” She asks almost unsure of herself.
Unable to say no to the woman you step forward wrapping one arm around her shoulders and the other around her waist in a warm embrace. Closing your eyes you take in the feel of her body, her signature smell, how her hands feel playing with the back of your jacket.
“Thank you, Amore.” She whispers, most definitely needing the loving touch as much as you did. The redhead pulls back first, giving you that shy smile that has just the corner of her lips up slightly.
“I’ll see you soon.” You assure her, knowing that you really couldn’t stay away from her long, especially now.
In the Schemmenti household a weekly dinner happens at Nanas house, and this week was no different except when Melissa pulls up with a large tray of ziti she only sees her parent’s car in the driveway. Coming into the house with the tray she smells food cooking and her nana talking, that was a good sign.
“Is a hit happening?” She pokes her head into the kitchen.
“My mia Cara!”
Maria Schemmenti crosses the kitchen going right to her granddaughter kissing her cheeks and taking the tray from her. “Come sit, food is almost done.”
Even though she’s up in years the oldest redhead that Melissa took after the most in looks and actions moves swiftly going back to her many dishes on the stove.
“Hey kiddo, you okay?” Johnny Schemmenti was a no nonsense guy, always ready to jump into action for his family especially his mini me Melissa. Sharing the same green eyes the two hug and Johnny places a kiss to his daughter’s head.
“Ya know what dad? I’m better than I’ve ever been.” She smiles moving to sit back down with her dad. “Ma looks pissed.” She says quietly watching the blonde woman move around the kitchen.
“Hi, ma.” The youngest redhead calls out getting no reaction from the woman.
“Melissa I will speak to you when I’m done helping your nana.”
“Caterina don’t give that girl the cold shoulder.” Nana points at her.
“That’s okay, Nana. I’m the only one here so apparently I’m in for an ambush. Did you put the hole in the backyard, Ma or is it somewhere else?”
Johnny has to bite back a laugh hiding his proud smirk with his beer bottle.
“Melissa this isn’t an ambush. I’m only wondering why you had to cause a scene instead of telling us you weren’t happy.”
“Mi stai prendendo per il culo,” Melissa huffs.
“Melissa Ann!” Caterina snaps.
“If this is how dinners gonna go tonight I’m outta here. I don’t need all this. Nana, dad, I’m sorry I’ll see you on Sunday.” She gets up kissing her dad’s cheek, grabbing her purse as she goes.
“Sit back down, Tesoro. Your mother means well but she ain’t going about it the right way.” Maria shoots her daughter in law a look that gets a huff from the blonde.
Melissa listens to her Nana, sitting back down next to her dad. Elbows on the table she covers her face with her hands taking a breath feeling like she’s a little kid that was caught and is now getting in trouble.
“Look you wanna know what happened? Joe cheated on me for years, did ya know that? That weekend the guys had the cops called on them and I had to sweet talk the cop? Yeah, they were ready to kill him. We done here now?” Melissa lets out with a challenging look to her mother.
That night almost ten years ago had been a rough one. A bunch of the cousins rented a house in the Poconos and the long weekend in the summer heat ended with Joe taking off on a four wheeler and Johnny Junior having his hand stitched up in the cabins kitchen after a drunk Joe made a joke about another woman he was seeing. Junior and the cousins scared him good, eventually the cops came ruining the weekend for Melissa.
“The boys knew this whole time?” Caterina asks quietly.
“Of course they did. So did Barb, and Nana.” She nods to her grandmother taking a breath.
Melissa’s mother looks at the oldest woman with an agape mouth.
“Mel, we want you to be happy. You happy with splitting from Joe?” Johnny asks his daughter.
“I can’t put into words how happy I am, pops.” She shrugs with a small smile.
“See, Cat? That’s all I need to know.” He nods to his wife, getting up to get the plates for the table.
“At your wedding I knew he was no good.” Maria shakes her head. “The negativity sheds off of him like his hair does.”
Melissa chuckles staying put as her parents move about the kitchen setting the table. As they do, Maria comes over kissing the top of her head.
“Mia Cara, when we’re done you make a plate and take it to your new friend. Give her a sneak peek of family dinners.”
The redhead looks at the matriarch of the family with a warm smile knowing her Nana would understand everything that Joe told the family.
As Melissa has dinner with her family you move around your apartment cleaning up and ordering groceries as you usually do on your days off. Seeing Melissa that afternoon was nice and you knew as soon as you saw her the anger you felt would lessen. You were upset but not so much with her. Now you were upset with her husband and how he treats her.
If her being free of him and the cage she felt trapped in meant you had to feel bad for those few hours from finding out to the moment you met up with her for lunch then so be it. You were tempted to text her an invite to come over for the night to decompress and talk more. As you leave your apartment and hop down the stairs to the alleyway out back to get rid of your garbage you see a car you do not recognize parked almost blocking the alley, and a man getting out of the car.
A man you recognize as Joe.
Final chapter
102 notes
·
View notes
Text
By Your Side | Cloé Lacasse x CAN!Reader
summary: tearing your ACL is never fun, but having your girlfriend by your side makes it feel less scary
warnings: none other than this being a little angsty?
WC: 1.2K
AN: I know nothing about ACL tears so apologies in advance if it's not 100% accurate!
to the anon that requested this, im sorry this took forever but I hope you enjoy nonetheless :)
may make a part 2 where R comes back after recoverying!
You normally enjoyed attending camps with the national team since it meant being able to see your girlfriend. While Cloé played in England with Arsenal, you were playing in Los Angeles with Angel City. However, waking up this morning before the game against The United States, you felt a nervous feeling taking over your body. You thought it was simply because of the rivalry between the two teams but as it got closer to kick off, the nervousness continued to consume you.
Sitting in the locker room next to Jessie, you tried to tune out the loudness of some of your teammates and instead focus on prepping for the game. You had made the starting eleven because of all the hard work you had put in during practice but that did nothing to lessen your uneasy feeling.
You were too deep in your thoughts to notice that Jessie had gotten up and her seat now being occupied by Cloé. The blonde could see the worry written across your face and like you, assumed it was because of the rivalry.
“You’re gonna do great, y/n/n,” the blonde spoke just loud enough for you to hear her over your teammates’ music.
You were brought out of your thoughts at the sound of her voice, turning to give her a small smile in appreciation for her words but you didn’t respond. You reached out a hand to hold onto hers and gave it a quick squeeze just as Bev alerted the subs they needed to head to the bench and for the starters to make their way to the tunnel. A quick speech was given but you were more focused on Cloé’s hand in yours.
Cloé held on to your hand the entire walk to the tunnel, only letting go so you could find your spots in the line. As she let go, she gave you one last reassuring squeeze hoping to help your nerves. You were grateful for her trying to help, but it unfortunately didn’t.
You did your best to focus on the walkout and anthems, hoping that once the ref blew the whistle, you would be ready to go. For the most part, that’s what happened. Once the game had started, you diverted your focus to the game rather than your nervous thoughts.
The first half ended with both sides still at zero but that doesn’t mean it was uneventful. The rivalry was in full swing as both teams played a bit more aggressively than they would against a different opponent. A total of five yellow cards was handed out in the first forty-five, meaning a lot of players would have to be extra careful in the second half.
The short break in between halves went by quicker than you would have liked but it meant less time to dwell on your feelings. As you walked out to the field, Cloé jogged past you, giving you a small shoulder bump and a smile as she passed. You sent her a quick smile before she turned away, heading to her position on the wing.
The second half started just like the first ended, both teams playing a bit messy, fouling each other left and right. The scoreline remained at zero-zero with neither team getting a good opportunity to score, until the 75th minute. The US had gotten a shot on goal that Kailen blocked, sending it out for a corner kick for the States.
You stood at the edge of the box, ready to get any ball that was cleared your way. You could feel the presence of one of the US players near you but you focused your attention on the ball. As the ball was kicked into the box, one of your teammates got a head to it first, sending it your way. The ball connected with your feet and as you turned to start your run down the field, you felt a harsh tackle that sent you to the ground.
You felt a sharp pain in your knee, unable to move to get up. Tears instantly welled up in your eyes as you turned your head trying to hide your face from the large crowd that was now silent. All you could hear was the ref blowing her whistle, most likely to alert the medical staff that they were needed. You heard some shouts from your teammates but you couldn't make out what they were saying, too in pain to concentrate.
You felt two hands on your ribs and shoulder, knowing it was Cloé right away. You knew her touch so well that even in an insane amount of pain, you knew it was her.
You weren’t paying attention to what she was saying, only making out “is it your leg” before the medical staff were by your side, asking the same questions.
All you could do was nod as they quickly started assessing your knee. Cloé hated seeing you in any kind of pain, but knowing that it could be the dreaded three-letter injury, she felt heartbroken for you. The blonde moved to wipe the tears off your face and some of the pieces of grass that had stuck to your forehead as the staff called for a stretcher.
Your teammates who were now huddled around you gave the medical staff space as they lifted you onto the stretcher, some of them giving you a quick pat on your stomach as you were lifted up. Cloé gave you a quick kiss on your forehead before you got too far from her, watching as you gave a small thumbs-up to the Canadian supporters who traveled for the game.
You spent the rest of the game in the locker room getting looked at by all the team doctors, They all came to the same conclusion, you had torn your ACL, but you should still go to the local hospital for it to be confirmed. You asked for them to let you be to process the diagnosis and they left you in the small medical room. You didn’t have much time to process anything before your girlfriend joined you.
“Did they say what it was,” the blonde asked as she entered the room. She knew it was your ACL but there was still a small part of her that hoped that maybe it wasn’t.
“ACL tear,” was all you could get out without crying again. You knew how long and painful this injury could be and it was daunting.
Cloé was quick to your side, holding your hands tightly in hers as she held back her own tears.
“I’ll be by your side the whole time, y/n/n. You won’t have to do this alone,” the blonde spoke, her voice cracking more with each word. Hearing your girlfriend's words brought a small, sad smile to your face.
“I know, I don't think I could do this without you,” you whispered as you gave her hands a tight squeeze.
Cloé leaned down to give you a quick kiss on your lips before giving you another forehead kiss. You knew this injury was going to be an uphill battle but with your girlfriend and teammates by your side, it would be a whole lot easier than doing it alone.
129 notes
·
View notes
Note
Ok one more update from a shark in the water? Please???
Here’s the first 1k(roughly)! Keep in mind I haven’t edited and I had like. A three-month long writers block for this fic so I’m not super attached/happy with this intro— it may change when I go back next weekend!
Hopefully it’s enough to wet your appetite tho ;)
—
Stiles had friends.
Lydia was his friend. Erica. Danny and Kira danced the line between acquaintance and actual friendship, but gun to his head, Stiles would count them as the latter. And Scott. God knows they'd been inseperable for over a decade.
It's just—
Stiles didn’t text his friends the way he texted Derek.
Or as often.
It wasn’t anything serious. Just lots of little, trivial things: pictures here and there, Stiles blinking doe eyes at the camera, biting his lip. He texted Derek about his annoying professor, the chronological order of the Marvel movies, his attempts at latte foam art. Stiles rambled and vented and altogether talked too much, but—
Derek always answered.
Even if it was a simple, one-word reply. Even if sometimes it took a couple hours. Stiles wasn’t sure he’d have been able to stop even if he didn’t; every little thing that popped into his head came with the companion thought of, oh! I wonder what Derek would think about this!
ive never seen you play a video game, he texted on Thursday evening.
I don’t. What are you playing?
COD
with scott
R u home?
At the gym.
Stiles had figured as much, but he still caught himself sighing. They were in the Hale-McCall living room, playing on Scott’s family Xbox, both sore and tired from their shifts at work. From his spot on the couch, Stiles could hear Peter humming in the kitchen, most likely prepping for dinner. Melissa was still at work.
And Derek was at the gym. Snooze.
how much can u lift? Stiles texted, before his character on screen ran into a wall and he had to put his phone down. Scott side-eyed him, hard.
Stiles caught the tail-end of Scott taking incoming fire before his phone buzzed again. He looked back down.
I can lift double your weight, easy, Derek had typed, cutting to the heart of the matter.
Stiles pinkened.
for how long?
For as long as it takes. Derek replied. it’s your endurance we need to work on, if anything.
Stiles could taste the sharp edge of Derek’s condescension on his tongue. Something inside him went molten-hot, liquified, like the liquid wax of a burning candle.
maybe you should take me to the gym with you, he typed, squirming at just the thought of it. Derek all sweaty, the graceful arch of spine, muscles flexing as he lifts himself. we could be workout buddies.
Would you wear leggings?
Stiles readjusted on the couch, his leg coming up against his chest.
in public? no.
but I could sit on you.
on your back. while you do push ups
A bit too daring. Stiles bit his lip when Derek didn’t respond. He focused back on the game, hoping to distract himself.
It didn’t help much.
Scott huffed, throwing down his remote when they both died.
“What is with you, man?”
“What do you mean?” Stiles said, peeking at his phone again. No new messages.
“I mean, you’re not even watching where you’re going. You just got us both killed!”
”I’m just—“ Stiles felt unreasonably grumpy. “Bored. Can’t we play something else?”
“Like what?”
Like Mario Kart, per Stiles’ suggestion. The best part about Mario Kart was that Scott was—
“Awful, man. Just terrible,” Stiles laughed as Scott swerved off the road, twisting his remote uselessly, as if that were going to do anything while he wasn’t holding down the gas. “Honestly, it’s embarrassing to watch. You should just stop. You’re bringing shame to your family name.”
“I used to beat you at every game!”
“Yeah, in like seventh grade.” Stiles shook his head. “How’s it feel, Scott? To have peaked in middle school?”
“I haven’t peaked, I’m just—“ Scott threw down the controller as the track completed, screen flashing the stats. Scott in tenth place, Stiles in first. Just like the last time. And the time before that. “Out of practice. God, screw this. I want to play Skyrim.”
“Skyrim is god-awful on the Switch.”
“Well, then, I’ll bring the PS4 down here.”
“But it’s single player,” Stiles scrunched up his nose. “I’m not going to just sit here like your girlfriend and pretend watching you play video games is interesting.”
Scott looked offended. “Allison isn’t pretending. She said she loves watching me play.”
Right.
“Sure she does.” Stiles rolled his eyes. "We can just put on a horror movie or something, play fuck, marry, kill." A weird little tradition of theirs, any time they break out the b-rate horror films.
"Which one do you wanna watch?"
Stiles shrugged, "You pick."
He checked his phone again. Sighed for the millionth time.
Scott noticed.
“Who are you texting?”
Fuck.
”No one important,” Stiles said quickly, and put his phone face down on the side table.
Scott stared at it. “Is that a new phone?”
”What? No.”
”It’s pink," Scott pointed out. "Your phone's not pink.”
Stiles really needed to get a case for the thing. “Okay,” he conceded. “It’s a new phone. I splurged.”
The reaction was immediate.
”Stiles! We’re supposed to be saving up for an apartment!” Scott shook his head. “You’ve got to stop spending money, dude.”
Scott was definitely right about that. Stiles might not have bought the phone, but he'd hardly saved a dime since he’d started his job. He’d been too busy buying— well. You know.
As if summoned by the thought of his underwear alone, Stiles' phone (finally, finally) buzzed. Stiles had moved before his brain had fully processed the sound, snatching his phone up from the table on reflex.
Stay put. I’ll be there in 10.
Stiles’ cheeks darkened to a fire-engine red. Uh-oh.
#siyw#am open to suggestions!! especially that first 300 words or so#I’ve written this beginning so many times I ended up just leaving it the way it is to finish the actual meat of the story#sterek
77 notes
·
View notes
Text
Big Bang Editing Story [Day 124]
I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story years ago, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag ‘proofread stories.’ I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.
My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40 Part 41 Part 42 Part 43 Part 44 Part 45 Part 46 Part 47 Part 48 Part 49 Part 50 Part 51 Part 52 Part 53 Part 54 Part 55
I have been sick as a dog since I last worked on this story. I'm not even doing any work today lol. I just want to get this chapter finished. Will probably do a couple rounds and then cook myself dinner, so there may be a gap at some point. Mostly I'll just be, like, reading when not posting. Wish me luck.
“Good day for a picnic,” Helen commented as she handed over the basket Thomas had requested from her a few days before. He was taking Logan, Patton, and Virgil to the cliffs today and it was perfect weather for it. Spring was truly here, which meant that those of Thomas’s duties that had laid dormant over the harsh winter were about to start up again.
The world had been on pause for a bit considering no armies or agents from any kingdom could get through the snow the last few months, but the concerns of last fall were showing their heads once again.
Thomas had just gotten word a day ago that the queen of Lamir had routed out a second assassin hiding in her ranks over the winter. The assassin had been sent shortly after it was made clear that the queen wouldn’t bow down after the assassination of her mother. Luckily, the assassin sent for Queen Cecil had not managed to complete her mission during the winter months.
While there had been no similar attempt on Prijaznia soil, Thomas couldn’t help but feel it was only a matter of time now that the snow had melted. They were already working on increasing security in the coming weeks and, though it was doubtful an assassin had managed to hide in the castle all winter without revealing themselves, they’d be closely scrutinizing all of the newer staff members.
It would be a stressful time in the coming months, which is why, despite everything Thomas needed to do, he was still going to take his son and his son’s friends on a picnic today. Logan had already started taking on royal duties as of late, but he still hadn’t taken them all on quite yet. Considering this was last summer before Logan was of age, they should at least try to take advantage of it where they could. Patton was a year younger, but the sentiment held for him as well.
Then there was Virgil. Despite their best efforts, they still didn’t know enough about Virgil, but Thomas was fairly sure he’d never had a summer to enjoy until now.
“Thanks for prepping lunch for us,” Thomas said to Helen with a smile.
“No problem,” she said waving them off. “I put in some of Virgil’s favorites.”
“Great,” Thomas said. “Do you know where the kids are?”
“Patton said they were going to go pet the cats, so I’d guess they’re in the gardens.”
Thomas thanked her again and told her to have a good day before exiting the kitchen. There was a nearby door that led straight towards the part of the gardens Patton and Logan had always favored. He figured they’d either still be around there, or they would have wandered towards the stables by now knowing that they’d be taking horses to the cliffs. So, he decided to simply walk the normal path from the door to the stable, hoping to find them.
His prediction ended up being hilariously correct. They were indeed on the path Thomas had chosen. It was clear they (or at least Logan) were attempting to make it to the stable. However, as was typical, a portion of the party had been waylaid by whimsy.
Logan was standing further down the path, arms crossed and frowning as he watched his friends. Patton and Virgil were surrounded by cats. Patton was sitting down, holding two of them in his lap and watching Virgil’s legs being swarmed by the rest of them, maybe two dozen in total.
Virgil looked confused, but not unhappy about the presence of so many cats. He was leaning down to try to pet them all.
Logan met Thomas’s eyes as he approached and waved a frustrated hand at the two of them. Logan couldn’t help but smile.
“Virgil fed one of them,” Logan complained as though he wanted Thomas to somehow go into the past and prevent this crime.
Patton and Virgil looked over at Thomas, noticing him when Logan addressed him.
“You’re going to make Princess Marisol jealous,” Thomas said. Logan frowned at Thomas as he used the ‘Princess’ label for the cat.
“Princess Marisol decided not to come,” Virgil said with a shrug. He continued to pet one of the cats.
“She’s probably sleeping on my pillow,” Logan said, sounding grumpy.
Thomas just chuckled. Princess Marisol was technically Logan’s cat, at least that’s what the kids said, and she did spend much of her time in the royal rooms. However, she was very clearly actually Virgil’s cat. Virgil just spent a lot of time in the royal wing as well.
In fact, Thomas still didn’t know where Virgil was supposed to be sleeping. He and Mr. Deknis had gone so far as to tail him a couple of times, but he always ended up sleeping in Logan’s room those nights.
Knowing Virgil, he might just sleep in the walls. Though that still did not answer the question of where his parents or guardians were. They still had not figured it out. Thomas would assume he was an orphan who’d snuck onto castle grounds for safety, but Virgil had told Mr. Deknis during their first meeting that he was supposed to be in the castle, and it had not been a lie.
Then again, it had slowly become apparent that Virgil was good at dodging the multrum’s powers. It was starting to seem more likely that he’d somehow inserted a second meaning into his answer to Mr. Deknis that night than he somehow had some ghost guardian no one was able to locate working in the castle.
“She deserves the pillow more than you,” Virgil said, bringing Thomas’s thoughts back to the situation at hand. The look of audacity on Logan’s face made Thomas chuckle.
Thomas cut in before it could become a fight. “I could get Princess Marisol a pillow, so she doesn’t sleep on yours. Or we can get you a new pillow if you’d prefer, Logan.”
“It’s not about the pillow for her,” Logan argued. “It’s about her inflated sense of superiority.”
“She deserves it,” Virgil declared. Thomas could tell he was just trying to rile Logan up, and Thomas was sure Logan knew it too, but still his son reacted exactly in the way Virgil wanted him to.
“You have enabled and encouraged this behavior from the start!” Logan seethed.
“She’s a princess.”
“She is not a princess!”
Patton shook his head while squeezing the cats in his arms, completely used to this behavior. He ran a chin idly over one of the cat’s heads while watching the argument.
“We’re never going to make it to the picnic at this rate,” Thomas said to him, “and after your mother made all of this wonderful food.”
“You’re the dad,” Patton said. “Make them stop.”
And, of course, Patton did just mean that he was Logan’s dad with that statement. However, when he glanced back up at the silly argument still going on between his son and the cat covered boy, it did almost look like a fight between siblings.
Especially with the dark hair and stubborn but mischievous look in Virgil’s eyes, Thomas could almost imagine the boy being his own child.
He shook away the thoughts and glanced at the picnic basket in his hand.
“We do have a lot of food in this basket,” Thomas said, pitching his voice up so that Logan (and more importantly) Virgil would hear them clearly.
Virgil immediately turned to look at him, abandoning all interest in antagonizing Logan to look at the basket curiously.
Thomas was never sure if he should be amused or worried about how food motivated Virgil often was.
“What’s in the basket?” Virgil asked.
“I’m not sure,” Thomas said. “Patton’s mom made it. We’ll just have to see once we get to the picnic area.”
Virgil nodded in understanding and began to gently extract himself from the droves of cats. Logan rolled his eyes, but didn’t seem inclined to continue the argument he’d been dragged into. Virgil and Patton got to their feet, and they continued on their way towards the stables.
The horses Thomas had requested be prepared for their trip were already in saddles, though the stable hand who had been handling Mr. Apples seemed a bit dirtier and more exhausted than the rest.
The stable hand seemed as happy to hand Mr. Apples over to Virgil as Virgil was to have Mr. Apples handed over to him. Thomas received Bella with a smile and Logan and Patton got their own horses as well.
The cliffs were about half an hour's ride from the main castle. There was a mostly well-maintained path to them, though it was easy to get lost if one didn’t know the way. Mr. Apples knew the way perhaps better than Thomas himself and seemed annoyed by the fact that Thomas was trying to lead the way. Virgil and Thomas ended up side-by-side whenever the path allowed it to placate him.
Thomas still marveled at how willing Mr. Apples was to let Virgil ride him, especially when he tossed his head in Thomas’s direction, a horse’s equivalent of giving Thomas a stink-eye.
“Are you excited for the picnic?” Thomas asked the boy beside him.
Virgil glanced over at him and nodded.
“I am too,” Thomas said. “It’s always beautiful this time of year. I’m glad I could find the time to take you all there this year.”
“Are you very busy?” Virgil asked curiously.
“I am king,” Thomas reminded, “and now that the world isn’t snowed in anymore things will be busy.”
“With the war?” Virgil asked.
Thomas paused for a few seconds. “Yes,” he confirmed. “With the war, but you don’t need to worry about that.”
“Why shouldn’t I?” Virgil asked.
“You’re just a kid,” Thomas said.
“I’m 14,” Virgil said.
Thomas glanced at him. “Exactly,” he said, “a kid, and luckily, you’re in a place that can afford you the luxury of being one.”
“What do you mean?”
“The war has been mainly fought on Mocnejsi soil in recent years. Our boarders have held strong against invasions. Unless something goes horribly wrong suddenly, it would take a long time for the main conflict to get here. The only real threat in the castle would be assassins sent after me personally.”
“Right,” Virgil said. There was an awkward pause in conversation before he spoke again. “You’re winning the war then?” he asked.
“Something could always happen,” Thomas said, “but for the most part, yes, we have quite the advantage right now.”
“Oh,” Virgil said.
Thomas shook his head as they were coming up to a narrowing of the path. “Anyway, today is a day to not think about war. Today we’re going to have a lovely picnic and do some bird watching.”
“Right,” Virgil agreed from behind Thomas as Bella took the lead (to Mr. Apples discontent.)
When the path widened again, Thomas did his best to direct the topic to lighter subjects and soon they made it to the cliffs.
Chapter 57 (Virgil)
Virgil had never been to a picnic. At least, that’s what Patton had informed him when Virgil had described his past experiences of eating outdoors. Logan had agreed even though he’d admitted that the definition of “picnic” was only eating a pre-packaged meal outdoors which Virgil had done plenty of times.
From what Virgil could tell, the main difference was just how much stuff one brought to a picnic.
In addition to the basket full of food (that Virgil still hadn’t gotten to look in yet), the king had brought a large soft quilt that he had Logan and Virgil spread out on the ground for them all to sit on.
Patton and Logan had also packed some things themselves to bring along. Logan had brought along a book to read, and Patton had brought along a board game (thankfully not checkers but something Virgil did not recognize). Virgil hadn’t brought anything (except for the fire knife he was definitely not supposed to have and was definitely not letting the king see) because he hadn’t known he was supposed to bring things. He wouldn’t have known what to bring anyway.
The blanket was soft and a much better alternative to sitting on the ground, especially because, while there was grass at the top of The Cliffs, there were also a good number of rocks.
The king set the picnic basket in the middle of the blanket once it was spread out and then lowered himself down to sit on one side. Patton quickly followed him, already fiddling with some of his board game pieces, though he wasn’t setting it up yet. Virgil highly doubted that Logan was going to be allowed to read his book unless Patton eventually got bored of the game.
However, they would, hopefully, be allowed to make use of the basket the king had brought along.
Virgil followed the king and Patton’s lead and got to his knees on the blanket across the picnic basket from the king. He peered at the basket curiously.
He didn’t quite know what picnic food was, but Patton had told them they’d be getting ‘picnic food’ and he was very curious about what that meant.
King Thomas smiled at him. “Let’s see what Patton’s mom packed us, huh?” He reached for the basket and flipped it open as Logan sat next to Virgil. “There is a lot more food than usual in here,” the king said, sounding amused. “Let’s see.”
He began to pull out packaged food and glanced in each package to identify it before setting it out.
“We have a few types of mini sandwiches,” he said, putting them down, “and some pasta salad.” He set down the bowl.
“We also have… er something else.” He showed it to Logan.
“They’re hot cauliflower bites,” Logan said instantly upon seeing them. Virgil perked up in excitement. That was one of his favorite foods.
“Ah,” King Thomas said, but shrugged and set it down. “We also have two desserts apparently: cookies and mini apple pies. That last one’s a bit extra for a picnic.”
“They’re very good,” Virgil said happily.
“And we also have.” King Thomas paused, looking confused. “Chicken alfredo?”
“Yes!” Virgil said.
“Why do we have chicken alfredo for a picnic?”
“It’s a Virgil picnic,” Logan groaned. “She packed us a Virgil picnic.”
“Hey, at least momma sent us something too,” Patton said.
“I think I’ll stick to sandwiches for today,” King Thomas said. He looked at Patton and Logan. “Do either of you want…?”
“No,” Logan said. Patton shook his head.
The king nodded and offered the entire covered bowl of chicken alfredo to Virgil. “Here, this one’s yours,” he said.
“Really?” Virgil asked tentatively. It wasn’t exactly strange for people here to offer him food, and he’d expected and anticipated getting to eat on this venture, but the king of the country offering him an entire bowl of his favorite food was something else.
“It’s not really my idea of a picnic food and you seem excited for it,” King Thomas said with a warm smile, still holding it out.
Virgil took it reverently. Despite the time it had taken to get to the cliffs, the bottom of the container was still warm. Virgil assumed it was one of the heating spells the kitchen sometimes used.
“Thanks,” Virgil said, setting it in his lap.
“Of course, Virgil,” the king said.
The bowl was enough for four people to have a little bit, but for one person it was a lot. Still, Virgil was offered a little of every other food in the picnic basket (and he ate a good number of the hot cauliflower bites).
“Where do you put all of that?” the king asked when Virgil finished polishing off the chicken alfredo bowl.
Everyone else seemed to have finished eating long before Virgil, though Patton still had a small plate of grapes, and he occasionally popped one in his mouth. King Thomas was currently setting up the board game they’d brought on the blanket between all of them.
Virgil shrugged in answer to his question. “It’s good,” he said, “and I don’t want to waste any of it.”
“You know we can just take the leftovers back to the castle and eat them later,” King Thomas said. “You don’t have to eat it all now.”
Virgil just shrugged again, watching as the king set out a group of 8 figures on the board.
“Here, which character do you want to be?” the king asked Virgil, gesturing at the group of figures. Virgil had not noticed the figures were different at first glance. They were all copper colored and about the size of his thumb, but they had slightly different shapes. He squinted at them each carefully, finding they all looked like people, but with different clothing. Some worse pants and some skirts, a few had hats, and one was even carrying a book.
After a few moments, he pointed at one that looked like it had vines wrapped around its arms and was wearing a floppy hat that almost covered its eyes.
“That’s the druid,” King Thomas told him with a grin. “Good choice, and luckily not one that anyone usually fights over.” He glanced at Logan who didn’t react to his father’s gaze. He just plucked the figure clutching the book off the board for himself.
Patton and the king picked pieces for themselves. Patton picked one with an apron that kind of reminded Virgil of his mom and the king picked one that was in a suit of armor before putting the other 4 figures away.
Unlike checkers, this game wasn’t just for two people, and so no one had to sit watching people play while bored out of their mind.
85949
They played a practice round so Virgil could figure out how the game worked, though honestly it wasn’t that complicated, so it wasn’t really necessary.
The theme of the game was all about stealing. They were supposed to steal special tokens from other players as well as characters in the game and the first person with 20 tokens won.
The other three players argued that stealing was not the point and not the main mechanism of the game, but considering Virgil was consistently winning the entire time, he would argue they were just playing it wrong. He managed to collect 20 tokens before anyone else. In second place at this time was Logan with 9 tokens.
Logan insisted on continuing to play the game to determine 2nd and 3rd place, so Virgil ended up watching them play for a bit. Virgil didn’t mind sitting and watching other people play this game, mostly because he still had the joy of victory running in his veins.
Thomas was definitely going to lose, he noted. He kept wasting his money feeding the nonplayer characters who lived on his lands. Virgil didn’t mention this faulty strategy to him in case Virgil ever played him again.
When Logan took too long thinking about his next move, Virgil took in their surroundings.
86167
He’d been a bit too distracted by the prospect of food and then trying to understand (and then win) the game to truly take in The Cliffs. They were settled a good distance away from the cliffside but Virgil could still see how quickly the edge dropped off. He couldn’t see the large river he was told was at its base from where he was sitting, but he did see a few of the promised wild birds (including doves) flying around. The king had promised they’d bird watch for a bit, and Virgil figured that would happen after the game was over.
A cool spring breeze brushed across Virgil’s face, and he put his hand in his hoodie pockets to warm them. Instead, his fingers hit something icy cold.
For a moment, he didn’t remember what it was. The crescent shape of it was familiar when he put his hand over it, but he had never felt it cold before.
It was the protection charm: the first charm Virgil had ever made with Logan so many months ago. It was meant to ward off small threats as well as warn you about larger threats by changing temperature…
It had always been warm.
“What?” Patton asked, having noticed Virgil suddenly tense. Virgil, despite how he drilled into his friend’s heads to stay alert had gone soft. He’d let himself be distracted by a full belly and warm blankets and fun games.
He didn’t answer Patton. He filtered the other boy’s worried face out as well as Logan’s face as he glanced at him and the king’s still focused on the game for now. He filtered out the picnic blanket and smell of food still lingering in the air and the vine covered figure set in the middle of the board on the winner’s space. He filtered out the sound of the breeze and the breath of his companions and the distant chirping of birds.
And he heard a whoosh.
Chapter 58 (Patton)
If Patton hadn’t already been looking, he probably wouldn’t have had any idea what happened.
Everything had been fine. Virgil had been sitting cross legged, idly watching the conclusion of the game they’d been playing when his posture had suddenly changed. Patton had looked over at him only to see an expression on his face he didn’t recognize, but it didn’t seem good.
“What?” Patton had asked, but the question didn’t seem to register to Virgil.
Logan had glanced up confused and also noticed Virgil’s face. He’d just opened his mouth to also ask what was going on when chaos descended.
Virgil was suddenly moving, crashing into King Thomas who hadn’t even looked up to see something was wrong at that point. Patton realized after the fact that Virgil had swiped up the board of the game they’d been playing as he jumped over it, the pieces previously stacked on it scattering all over the blanket. There were three thumps as some things hit the thick board, imbedding themselves into the surface.
When Virgil discarded the board in favor of the picnic basket, Patton saw there were small darts in it oozing a dark black liquid. The parts of the board they touched were dissolving, the grass under the new holes beginning to wilt rapidly.
Logan seemed to notice the oozing liquid the same moment Patton did and was quicker to realize what it was. He grabbed Patton’s arm and yanked him away from the board so hard he almost dislocated Patton’s shoulder, not that Patton was too worried about that. He scrambled away from it when he realized what it must be himself.
He could hear the sound of glassware smashing above them. Logan and Patton had rolled off the blanket in their quest to get away from the smoldering, melting board and apparently Virgil had pulled the picnic blanket fully over the king at some point.
Virgil himself was now gone from where he’d been the last time Patton had looked and it took him a moment to figure out where the boy had gone. The person who had been shooting poisoned darts at them had been drawn out of the wooded area they’d been hiding in by Virgil’s attacks.
They were cloaked in dark green from head to toe, explaining why they’d been difficult to spot when they were in the woods. Whoever they were, they were significantly larger than Virgil, possibly an actual adult or almost adult assassin, but they were also clearly a long distant fighter. They had not been expecting resistance let alone resistance in the form of a so quick he was almost a blur fellow assassin.
They had a bow strapped to their back, but they hadn’t had a chance to get it. Instead, they were trying to fight Virgil off with an arrow they’d managed to draw from their quiver. Virgil, meanwhile was lunging at them with a broken piece of plate in one hand and the picnic basket in the other.
Virgil dodged out of the way of the arrow striking towards his arm, though Patton didn’t think it was because he was afraid of getting scratched by an arrow, but because it may also be poisoned tipped.
Virgil was distracted by dodging for long enough that the older assassin managed to hit him in the face with the arm not holding the arrow.
He went down, but he took the older assassin with him, sweeping their legs out from under them. Patton hadn’t noticed (his mind working too slow for how fast they were moving) but they were on a slight incline. They went rolling in a tangle of arms and legs towards the edge of the cliff and skidded to a stop only a few feet away.
Virgil ended up on top, his piece of broken plate in his hands. He moved to slash it across the other assassin’s throat and managed to draw blood, but the assassin’s fist came out to shove at Virgil’s chest at just the right moment, causing the strike to veer off course and slice across the assassin’s cheek instead.
Virgil jerked to the side to avoid a second strike to the chest and went back for another slash. The other assassin rolled to the side as he did and the plate only managed to nick their ear. The point of the motion hadn’t been to dodge, however. They were lunging for the arrow they’d dropped a few feet away while they’d rolled. They grabbed it with their right hand and in the same motion stabbed back behind them towards Virgil.
Virgil rolled to avoid the hit, already slashing up with his plate as the assassin turned back towards him.
87295
He didn’t hit them this time but his swipe managed to stop them from stabbing him when they tried again. They shoved themselves back to avoid Virgil’s swing, putting a bit of distance between them. Both of them managed to make it to their feet during the momentary reprieve, but both also stayed crouched, eyeing each other.
They both lunged towards each other at the same time. The assassin went for a stab to Virgil’s neck with the arrow, but Virgil was already ducking down. This time, he wasn’t going for a kill shot. He grabbed the assassin’s wrist and at the same time drove his piece of plate into the assassin’s arm, slicing down from the elbow to wrist. The assassin spoke for the first time, cursing in a language Patton didn’t recognize as they were forced to drop their arrow.
Virgil took a moment to kick the arrow away from the assassin and it ended up falling off the cliff.
However, this pause gave the assassin enough time to regroup. Despite their arm bleeding profusely, they still decided to use it to backhand Virgil across the face viciously, leaving a long line of their own blood across his face.
Virgil lunged back forward, but the assassin was able to get a leg between them, kicking Virgil squarely in the chest and sending him flying back a few feet parallel to the cliff’s edge.
The assassin went to grab their bow and another arrow from the quiver still strapped to their shoulder.
Virgil, however, apparently went for another weapon too and he was much faster with a knife than any archer. A knife appeared in his hand, having been strapped to his ankle and was embedded into the assassin’s chest before they could even full remove an arrow from their quiver.
The assassin promptly burst into flames, fire catching their clothes (and from the smell of it their skin) ablaze. Panicked and dying, they stumbled two steps to the side. They stepped directly off the cliff.
There was a second of silence. They heard the sound of the body hitting the ground far below and then the flap of wings and screeching as birds below fled from the startling sound (and possible soon to be forest fire).
…
“Uh, Virgil?” King Thomas said. He had managed to get the blanket off his head at some point. When, Patton didn’t know, but seeing any of it was probably enough.
Oopsie.
Chapter 59 (Logan)
Logan and Patton had been useless during the fight, but that may have been for the best. Considering the skill differential when it came to fighting (and that differential had never been as clear as it was in this moment), that was probably for the best. They likely would have just gotten in the way.
The moment Logan’s father spoke, however, they both jumped into action.
They both knew their jobs in a situation like this. Patton pushed himself up to his feet ungracefully and all but sprinted over towards Virgil. Logan, on the other hand stood to face his father, putting himself very purposefully between the man who had no idea what was going on yet and the boy who was two seconds away from remembering what was going on.
“I can explain,” Logan said.
His father was still sitting on the ground. “You can explain,” he said slowly, “how Virgil just threw an assassin off a cliff.”
Logan thought pointing out that Virgil hadn’t thrown anyone off a cliff and instead had set them on fire with a magical knife causing them to walk off a cliff, would not be useful in this moment. He glanced back briefly towards where Virgil and Patton were standing and then turned back to his father. “Yes.”
“And what would that explanation be?”
Before even starting to speak, Logan found himself making large dramatic ‘explaining hand gestures’ that he’d thought he’d long since trained himself out of. When he was younger and in trouble, he always used to give himself away as guilty by being overly expressive with his hands (and arms).
“So,” Logan said. He was still not able to stop the hand motions. “Virgil was an assassin. He came here to kill you last fall, but he accidently went to the wrong room in the royal wing. Patton and I were having a slumber party and caught him in the act. Then we reformed him and now he doesn’t kill people anymore.” He paused and glanced back, remembering the body that had just toppled off the cliff. “Er, uh, he doesn’t kill people who haven’t shot poisoned darts at people recently anymore?”
“What?”
“Look,” Logan said. “You’re going to have to tell him you’re not going to execute him soon. Patton can only keep him from bolting for so long.”
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hi hi I'm here with some more content for my little au of the celestial cafe bay! Tho from here I'll be changing the name of the fic I am writing for it to cafe love bites. I'm so very happy to actually have something to share on my silly little fic and I hope you guys will enjoy this little tad bit of the first chapter, that I have to share. However this is my first fic ever so do try not to take it that seriously.
A surprise guest!
For as long as you could remember you've always wanted to run a cafe of your own,and help make people's day a little bit better by giving them a place to rest or just help by getting them something to help start their day. Unfortunately the world or the universe, whatever governs your existence, didn't make achieving that dream easy. A lot of things were thrown your way but you finally got your business off the ground! Finally opening up a place called the Celestial cafe bay and so far it's going pretty decent.a little bit more than you expected but nothing you can't handle,right?..
Wrong. You were very wrong. Everything was a lot harder to do alone than you expected, turns out your cafe is a lot more popular than you imagined. You expected to get one to two customers a week ,but not 10 or 20 customers every day of the week! You're already struggling to keep up with the supply and demand, having to wake up early every day to set up the cafe,prep and prepare the baked goods. You have to bake bread and cupcakes, put frosting on the pastries , make the bagel sandwiches and sometimes make yourself some breakfast with a cup of coffee.but who has time to eat breakfast when you have customers to serve. Besides all the money you earn helps pay all the loans you've acquired trying to start up the cafe and a couple small upgrades to the cafe's aesthetic .Should you probably hire someone to help with the cafe? Yes most likely but you hardly have time for that with how you're running the cafe and barely being good at managing your own time , much less someone else's . It's hard to run the cafe by yourself but you guess this is what you should expect running a business by yourself. Especially when you have a hard time getting to sleep ,so you fall asleep on the couch watching tv most nights.
So here you are again waking up on the couch, with the tv still running. You feel groggy and disgruntled with dried saliva on your face. Pushing yourself up, your body makes its protests known as the joints of your hands and elbows ache. You groan, wiping the sweat off your brow before reaching for the remote and turning off the Tv.
You get up with a stretch before making your way to the stairs to start your day.Making your way to the kitchen you hear The whirl of the winds followed by sounds of the heavy pitter patter of the storm outside. You yawn , walking into the kitchen flipping the switch next to the door frame .Pushing back the curtain, you enter the room. passing by the tall and lanky figure in your kitchen, to close the window blocking out the sound of the pouring rain outside. now hearing the subtle whirring and clicks of the fans of something Similar to a sound that you would think an animatronic would make. But you didn't leave a fan on did you? Wait actually you don't have a fan at all in the kitchen , last you checked. So where's that sound coming from?..
You blink and yawn, rubbing out the sleepiness that lingers in your eyes before turning around and finally fully acknowledging the tall ass animatronic that was standing right behind you. Staring up at it now you feel almost speechless and dumb founded, as you watch the Sun-like animatronic come to life. Stunted by this sudden turn of events you are unable to find the words to speak as its eyes settle on you . Feeling the air rise with tension the longer you both stare at each other in shock and bewilderment. You fumble as you try to speak still trying to wrap your head around the situation only managing a small squeak before it screams and you scream in turn started by it screaming and confusion as to how it got here.you point at it, stumbling back a little barely missing the puddle behind you as it settles in that there's a animatronic in your kitchen! Your scream rising a pitch as the life from its eyes flicker out, falling back as it's scream was cut short. You stumble back nearly tripping over yourself in the process, falling back into the big puddle of water by the window.
#fnaf dca#loco's writing#daycare attendant#sundrop#sundrop and moondrop#dca#moondrop#celestial cafe bay au#fnaf daycare attendant#x reader#daycare attendant x reader#im not great at writing but im trying!#hope you enjoyed it
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Rare Bookseller Part 17: Oliver's Long Shot
Masterlist
September 1925
TW: Captivity, crossdressing
There was little to do over the next few days, but they still passed in a blur. Oliver ate well, with ample meat and fresh vegetables at each meal, and slept well, hypnotic mantras drilling into his mind each night. He was allowed to shower each day.
The biggest highlight of this time was his session with Miss Lily. It was awfully nice that he didn't even have to pretend to resist any more. He relaxed into the leather chair and let Miss Lily's voice sink him down into a euphoric trance, talking to him for what felt like hours but was still over far too soon.
Emily was much calmer, too. They chatted about nothing in particular, largely avoiding the subject of vampires. She no longer brought up escape, which Oliver found to be a relief more than anything. He hated the feeling that he should be coming up with plans, struggling against a clearly inevitable fate.
Despite his overall level of contentment, he still couldn't help but be nervous about what kind of vampire might buy him, the one thing Miss Lily couldn't guarantee. Her spell would cause him to submit in the face of any vampire master, but he still privately longed for a decent one. Someone gentle who would treat him well and appreciate him. Someone that would allow him to read. The idea of being chained in a basement to serve only as a meal still frightened him, no matter how effective Miss Lily's sessions were.
And then, the anticipated night arrived.
The lights snapped on, and Oliver watched as all of the captives who had had their minds erased were gathered into a small crowd and led away. He gleaned from bits of conversation among the vampires that they were to be prepared for the auction in a group, and there was general chatter of wash up this one and get the first five upstairs and did someone polish the handcuffs.
After that, it wasn't long before Emily was fetched from her cell, head bowed low, and the hallway grew more and more quiet, leaving Oliver alone with his increasingly anxious thoughts. Today would decide his fate, possibly forever, and he had so little control over it.
"Oliver," said a familiar voice, and he breathed a sigh of relief to see Miss Lily standing by his cell. She was holding a clipboard and looked harried. "I'm here to bring you up to the prep room and make sure you're ready. I'm your handler for the auction, by the way. Don't want to trust the prize merchandise with anyone else."
"Yes, sir," he said, grateful that it was Miss Lily and not a complete stranger. She unlocked his cell and the two left the prison area -- Oliver realizing it might be the last time he'd see those cells -- and walked down the hall and up a flight of stairs. "May I ask you a question, sir?"
Miss Lily was yawning hugely in an undignified manner. "They have us up so early for this auction. The sun's still up, you know. It's torture to try to get anything done before sunset." She turned to him. "But sure, ask your question."
"What is it going to be like, sir? The auction."
"We're going to get you prepared -- clean you up and dress you in something fetching. Then, there's going to be a show floor where all of the merchandise is available for our patrons to peruse. Vampires will want to get a look at you -- but don't worry, I'll be supervising. Then the auction proper starts, and the merchandise will be put up on the block one by one," she said. "Sorry, but you're going to be last. You're the star attraction after all."
Oliver swallowed down his faint nausea at the thought of being put on display for strange vampires. As much as he'd been coerced to be ready to serve, he still retained the bulk of his mind, including his fear of being the center of attention. And he didn't like the notion of being sold last and having to wait who knows how long to learn who his new master would be.
"What sort of things can I do to improve my odds, sir?" he asked, latching onto the one thing he might have control over.
"An excellent question. I've trained you well," said Miss Lily. "This may seem like strange advice, given the circumstances, but you should be confident in your value."
"Confident, sir?"
"Yes. The vampires who wish for a mindless meal have plenty of erased humans to choose from. You'll fetch both a higher price and live a better life if you can attract a vampire who desires a servant or companion. Show off your subservience, especially if there's a vampire master you'd particularly like to buy you, and displaying a bit of your natural personality and intelligence will make you more memorable," she said. "And flaunting your neck a bit wouldn't hurt."
"...Thank you for the advice, sir," he said, although he still wasn't feeling confident. What if he couldn't do it? What if he got overwhelmed by attention and curled up into a miserable little puddle of nerves and the only vampires who wanted to buy him were ones who wanted to treat him like cattle and --
They stepped into a richly appointed dressing room, Oliver's stockinged feet sinking into the plush carpet. Lining one wall were a few racks of elaborate, sumptuous ball gowns. There was a triple mirror in one corner with a small podium, and a few chests of drawers overflowing with accessories and jewelry. One wall was dominated by a vanity with an enormous, lit mirror, the table in front a vast clutter of cosmetics.
"Florence, we're here."
An older woman wearing a smart brown suit stood up to greet them. "Ah, this must be the Lot 7 I've heard so much about," she said, looking over Oliver as though he were candy in a shop window.
"His name is Oliver," said Miss Lily, patting him on the arm. "And you'll be giving him the works."
"Of course! It's my pleasure!" she said, her grin baring her fangs. "Oh, I always love this time, the excitement before a big auction."
"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, because I feel sick," said Miss Lily.
"Oh, hush now, you always do an excellent job conditioning the merchandise. I'm sure it'll be fine." She took Oliver by the arms, examining him more closely, and her touch was feather light. Something about her demeanor and careful touch made him feel captivated, like he wanted to stand stock still, like his mind was zoning out. "Did you have anything particular in mind for him?"
"If all goes right, I'm going to be selling him to Lord Alexander," said Miss Lily, and both Miss Florence and Oliver were startled.
"Oh, my, you're aiming high," she said.
"Lord Alexander?" Oliver asked. "Uh, sir? I - I knew an Alexander - who was a vampire -"
"You know Alexander?" said Lily skeptically. "Oh, of course you would. He collects rare books. I'm sure he knows all of the booksellers in the city. Oh geez, I wonder what he's going to think about this if he already knows you..."
Oliver knew in his gut that it must be the same one. How many Alexanders who collected rare books and were filthy rich and were vampires could there be in one city? One of his favorite patrons, a man with an excellent eye for valuable tomes, a pleasant and sharp-witted conversationalist...
And he could be Oliver's new master.
Some buried part of him felt shame at the idea that one of his former patrons would see him this way, turned into a thrall and sold at auction, but another, stronger part of him was relieved. He knew Alexander. Vampire or no, he wasn't the sort of person that Oliver could imagine beating him or chaining him up. He might be reasonable, he might treat him well, he might value his expertise when it came to books.
And he'd warned Oliver.
Maybe...
Maybe he would let Oliver go.
It wasn't resisting, was it, if he were simply wishing for a master that would set him free?
It was probably a long shot. After all, he was a vampire, so Oliver knew far less about him than he assumed. But taking a chance on a stranger surely wouldn't be any better.
Miss Lily gently ruffled his hair. "Would you like for Lord Alexander to buy you, Oliver?"
"Yes, sir, very much so," he said, eagerly to trade the terror of uncertainty for a slim hope. "Excuse me if it is impertinent, but I believe I would be ideally suited for serving him, sir."
"Keep that up and you just might convince him," said Miss Lily, clearly pleased.
"You've trained this one especially well," said Miss Florence. "Just look at how soft and obedient he is, while still able to hold a coherent conversation. Yes, I think I can turn this raw material into a polished jewel."
Miss Florence walked around him and set her delicate hands on his shoulders, guiding him to an upholstered stool in the center of the room. Oliver once more felt the tug of Miss Florence's particular aura, lulling him into docility, as he sat down.
"Now I'm going to leave you with Florence, but I'll be back to pick you up for the show floor," said Miss Lily. "Remember, obedience is pleasure -- you'll be very obedient for Miss Florence, won't you?"
"Yes, sir," he said, feeling that now familiar rush.
She turned to Miss Florence. "His word is 'quiet', but you might not even need it with him. Look how he's already caught in your web," she said.
Miss Florence's hand brushed the bare skin of his shoulder, exposed by the wide neck of his frock, and he shuddered with intense feeling. "I'll do him up with something classic, something that will appeal to Lord Alexander."
"Yes, please," he said under his breath. "I would like to be appealing to Lord Alexander, sir."
Miss Florence grinned. "I don't doubt you shall be, child."
Part 16 >> Masterlist >> Part 18
Thank you for reading this story of Oliver's anticipation.
Tag list - please note if you'd like to be added
@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @snakebites-and-ink
#whump#whump writing#whumpee#mind control#vampire#vampire whumper#captivity#rare bookseller#oliver#lily#florence
110 notes
·
View notes
Text
Heyoooo everyone! I’m gonna gush a little bit about my gym rat hobby so please feel free to ignore me! I’m just super excited with the results I got this week. :)
For those of ya who are curious:
As of this coming April, I’d have been weight training consistently for a year. The past 5 weeks I entered a prep block to get myself prepared, and this week was the self-appointed Personal Record test I set for myself. The goal of the test is to... well. TEST how strong I’d become and the progress I made in comparison to when I first started out by finding my 1 Rep Max (and in the case of pullups, how many I can do before I can’t do anymore in one go).
The lifts I used for the testing were Barbell Bench Press, Deadlifts, and Pullups. I would’ve also tested for Squats but an old injury in my knee started acting up, so for my own safety I opted against it until I can retrain it and try later at the end of the year.
ANYWAY! The results of those tests are:
Bench Press: Last 1RM-150lbs | Current 1RM- 170lbs
Deadlift: Last 1RM- 210lbs | Current 1RM- 265lbs
Pullups: Last max: 0 pullups unassisted | Current max: 9 pullups unassisted
-----------
Numbers aren’t necessarily important in the grand scheme of things, BUT they’re very good for me to know in order to calculate how much I should be lifting in order to become stronger and for how many reps/sets, as well as giving me an additional visual representation of the progress I’m making outside of photos.
I am naturally competitive --specifically toward myself-- so what I see when looking at these numbers is defaulting to “Cool but now I need to get stronger”. But I’m trying to make myself take a step back and actually appraise the progress I’ve made thus far and to remember to be proud of it, even if it may not feel like I made a lot of progress at all.
And taking that step back: overall? I’m very happy with the results! And quite frankly very surprised. I went into the test with base goals and trying to be open that there’s a very high likelihood of failing to reach those goal PRs this time. But I managed to outperform my own expectations, and while small part of me will forever whisper “it wasn’t you. You did it wrong. You’re lying to yourself,” it’s a little harder to deny it when I had another person actively watching me and recording the tests so I can actually see myself do it.
“You are your biggest critique” is ever the true statement man. But I’m definitely trying to learn how to be more open to success in the gym. I mean c’mon; I started at barely being able to do one pullup with 100lbs of assistance. Now I can do nine with no help? It’s not a big number, but it’s still a much bigger number than where I was, and I can be proud of that.
I guess the roundabout of me talking about this is to remind ya to take a step back and be proud of the progress you’ve made up to this point, no matter what it is. Any progress is still progress, and you can’t brush that off.
The game face can be put on; aim for that higher number, strive for more, but don’t forget to take inventory of where you started vs where you are now. You may surprise yourself. :)
----
BUT YEAH! TL;DR I think I have gotten a little stronger. I’ll be taking a couple of days break away from the gym to rest up, then will be back on my bullshit with the new training block + my 1st attempt at a minicut. We’ll see how that goes ;w;
Anyhow, if you stuck around and read my rambling, treat yourself man. Thank you so much for listening, and I will talk to ya soon! :)
81 notes
·
View notes
Text
Would It Be Enough?
Chapter 12 - Sketches and Dresses
Masterlist of Chapters
Warnings: 18+ - No minors Rated E - Please read the tags on A03 for any of your triggers
Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x Original FMC 8.9k words - AO3 Link
The issue with only being able to bring so many things on your contract job was Emma had only packed for one type of weather; hot. Ukraine this time of year rarely saw temperatures above forty and it could get well below freezing at night. Emma had packed all the warmest things she had and also dug her credit cards out from her long-forgotten wallet. She’d have to make time to stop and buy a few things, a jacket, and a long-sleeved shirt at a minimum. After one last review of everything, hoping it would be enough because it wasn’t specified how long they would be gone, Emma clipped her pistol into her thigh holster and tossed it in the bag with a few magazines then walked out of her room with her duffle bag swung over her shoulder.
Even though it was only six almost everyone else was already up and out of their rooms, coffee cups were lined up on the counter and Gaz was busy digging out sugar and milk. Moving to deposit her duffel with the rest in a pile by the door Emma walked over gratefully grabbed herself a cup and made up the drink before leaning on the counter. “How was movie night?” She asked as she cupped her hands to hold her drink, “sorry I couldn’t join just after everything that happened yesterday, I needed to be alone for a bit.”
“No need to apologize, I get it,” Gaz answered. At least he wasn’t being awkward around her, hopefully, that would stay the same when Soap and Ghost joined them. Their doors were still shut and they hadn’t made an appearance yet. “Alex fell asleep halfway through,” Gaz replied as he worked on his own drink. “But Price joined us toward the end. Not sure when Ghost and Soap got in, we all went to bed and they still weren’t back yet,” he shrugged. “Plenty of time to sleep on the plane if you can block out the noise. It’s almost a six-hour flight, hope you have a book or something to do,” Gaz finished with a grin.
“You know, I brought a book series with me when I came over here and I still haven’t even finished book one,” Emma confessed. “I just never have the time to read anymore. Too busy or too tired when I’m not busy. I value sleep over stories I guess,” she grinned, “I’ll probably have to start book one over.”
“Is that where Sleeper comes from then?” A familiar voice asked from behind Emma. Soap was standing there and prepping his coffee, black with heavy sugar, as he eavesdropped on their conversation. Emma hadn’t even heard him emerge from his room but both he and Ghost were there, Ghost depositing both his and Soap’s bags onto the growing pile of items.
“Sort of,” Emma answered, her eyes darting between Ghost and Soap before landing back on Soap again. She had so many questions as to what happened between them but that moment was not the time to ask. “I’m a heavy sleeper,” she began to explain, which earned a smirk and nod from Soap, he would know after that first night. “And I can fall asleep pretty much anywhere too, and quickly. I would catch catnaps between training or classes. You could find me against walls, on benches, behind boxes, one time even up on a catwalk,” she laughed a little bit before taking a sip of her coffee. “I pretty much slept anywhere I could even if it were for only five minutes. If I went missing at group gatherings, my friends knew they could find me holed up somewhere.”
“You and Alex are peas in a pod,” Gaz answered. “Man falls asleep if he sits still for longer than five minutes. I don’t think he’s ever made it through a movie.”
“Not true,” Alex chimed in from the couch, “I just don’t make it through movies you pick, and you never let anyone else pick. Your British stuff could put anyone to sleep.”
“I’m not watching some American action movie. All you Americans like to do is blow things up and look like models while doing it,” Gaz shot back with a roll of his eyes.
“So, you do think I’m pretty then. I see the way you look at me,” Alex teased before catching the breakfast bar that Gaz lobbed at his head. Gaz quickly went over to the couch with his own breakfast and took a heavy seat on the couch next to Alex, throwing his feet up on the table while he ate.
“I mean, he’s not wrong,” Emma said as she looked over at Soap. She noticed that he had a butterfly stitch on his eyebrow and his lip was split and still a bit swollen in the corner. So, he had gone to the hospital at some point the evening before. She couldn’t see Ghost’s nose under his mask but it had been bleeding pretty good the night before so hopefully he had gotten it looked at. “But action movies are supposed to be blowing things up, impossible scenarios, and good-looking men and women,” she finished. Alex pointed at her over the back of the couch in an exclamation that said ‘see, he wasn’t the only one that enjoyed those types of movies.’
“I’m not disagreeing,” Soap answered with a grin, “you already know my opinion on British television, too dry.” Gaz turned his head over the back of the couch at that and narrowed his eyes at Soap, but didn’t say anything as he turned back around again.
Ghost and Price had made their way over to the counter now to grab their own coffee and Emma sidestepped closer to Soap. She didn’t want to say anything out loud but instead just raised her eyebrow in a questioning look, darting her eyes over at Ghost to ask the question quietly. Things seemed okay between the two of them, considering Ghost had carried Soap’s bag out for him and Ghost himself was having a casual conversation with Price and Crane. Soap caught her look and just mouthed the words ‘later’. Fair enough, she didn’t really want to discuss any of that with an audience and even though Ghost was talking to others she was certain he’d listen in.
By the time everyone had finished eating and cleaned up, it was time to head out on their ride to the airfield which was about thirty minutes away. Price informed them all that they would be traveling with transport of personnel and supplies to a base in Ukraine about two hours outside of Kiev then they would be driving the rest of the way. Their cover was they were embassy workers, specifically coming for humanitarian relief from the recent civil unrest. They would head to the safe house that afternoon to set up and debrief before beginning work that evening.
It was odd, to say the least, to see everyone dressed in such a casual way as they piled out of the truck that was full of other military personnel in their uniforms. The whole 141 had jeans and sneakers on, pistols that were usually strapped to their legs nowhere to be seen, and t-shirts. Price had even left his usual hat at the base, or in his bag, and the rest of the men had actually styled their hair. None of them looked the part of a lethal killer at first glance, though their size and mere presence in the area gave the air of it. People at the base even opted to give them a bit of space, obviously sensing that maybe the group wasn’t exactly what they said they were.
Emma was even treated the same for her association with them, though one brave solider offered to help her with her bags as the team moved off to go check in. Price had informed her she had a full bag of medical supplies at her disposal that he had commandeered from the hospital. The bag itself was almost as large as her and when she hefted it out of the truck when they got to the airstrip, she almost dropped it from the weight and everything shifting inside. “Did they pack me the whole emergency room,” she muttered as she moved to swing it up on her back.
“Let me help you ma’am,” the man offered and he swooped in to grab the medical bag before Emma could answer. He was young, a fresh recruit from the looks of him and how he carried himself. “Shouldn’t leave a lady to lug all of this,” he said with a small smile as he swung the pack onto his back, his eyes darting over to where the team had walked away. “I take it you’re the embassy crew headed to Ukraine?”
“Ah, yes actually,” Emma answered as she bent down picked up her much lighter bag, and draped the strap across her body. “Are you stationed there?” She asked as they started to walk toward the plane. She had no need to go join the men checking in, they had her fake identification papers, but she did glance over to where the rest of the taskforce was talking to the pilots. She was expecting to see them exchanging papers, maybe having a casual conversation, but what she found instead was Soap staring at her. He wasn’t subtle, he wasn’t even trying to hide it, as he crossed his arms across his chest and just watched her with head slightly cocked. Emma swallowed, daring to give him a small smirk, before turning her attention back to the man helping her. Soap could have helped her with the bag if he had wanted, but he didn’t and now he’d get to watch someone else assist her.
“I am, my first deployment actually,” he said sounding a bit proud, but Emma could see he was also nervous. “Before I joined, I never even left the country and now I’ve been to three different ones in less than a week,” he grinned before gesturing for her to step up the ramp first. “Have you traveled much? I mean, I guess with the embassy you must have,” he was rambling a bit as they sidestepped some crates to head further into the plane for their seats.
“I have,” Emma answered, “I’ve been to quite a few places actually. I was in the Air Force when I was younger, I was a medic,” she explained, careful to not shed too much information about herself since she was there under a false background. “Helped me join the embassy when I got out,” she finished before they stopped at some seats. The man, whose last name was Newman by the patch on his uniform, lowered her medical bag and stuck it under a row of seats, tucking it safely behind the cargo nets. Emma bent down and dug her book and large ear-covering headphones to help block out the plane noise, out of her bag before shoving it next to the medical bag. “Any idea what you’d like to do once you get out? Or are you a career man?” She inquired as she pulled the headphones around her neck and took a seat.
“Oh, I’m not sure yet,” he replied taking the seat right next to her, Soap was going to love this. “My whole family has been in the service, that’s actually how my parents met,” he grinned. “My sister just finished eight years and is in school now working on her master's. I may make a career out of it, school’s never been my thing. My dad was the same.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” Emma answered with a smile before she looked back toward the plane entrance to see if the team was boarded yet. She couldn’t see down the ramp, there were crates and other items in the way, but more and more people were filing on and taking up the seats. If they didn’t hurry, they were all going to be sitting separately, there weren’t many seats set up for this flight and they were filling up rather quickly. “What’s your name?” Emma asked after a moment, “I’m Emma by the way.”
“Sam,” the man replied before his eyes darted up over Emma’s head to take in the people that had just arrived. Emma turned to find Soap leading the group past the crates, his bag gripped tight in his right hand as he held it over his shoulder. He was continuing to stare, though he now had a mischievous grin on his face as he walked over to where Emma and Sam sat. Emma was determined to not let him ruin the nice conversation she was having with an obviously anxious young man.
“Don’t mind them,” she stated quickly turning back to Sam, “they’re all bark and no bite,” she continued, giving a small eye-roll for emphasis. Sam still hadn’t looked away from the group though and his eyes had widened a bit before Soap spoke.
“I don’t bite because you haven’t asked Lass,” Soap said as he sat down in the seat right next to Emma, shoving his own bag underneath right next to hers. “I’m always willing to try anything,” he winked at her before looking over at Sam and extending his hand. “John,” he stated as a way of introduction, they weren’t using call signs here being that they weren’t supposed to be military.
Emma felt the butterflies in her stomach at Soap’s words and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from biting her lip. He knew exactly what he was doing and she was going to have to sit here with that thought for the duration of the flight.
“Sam,” Sam replied, taking his hand and shaking it. At that point the rest of the group lined up down the row, each taking up a seat and digging out their own inflight entertainment. Gaz had brought his music and headphones; the rest had a combo of music or books as well. Sam was watching all of them carefully, “you’re all embassy workers?” His voice was a little disbelieving as he took them all in, especially Ghost in his face mask. While it didn’t have the signature skull markings on it and was just plain black, it still stuck out.
“Aye,” Soap answered, letting his accent roll off his tongue heavily. “That one there’s our translator,” he pointed to Alex who gave a friendly wave, “boss down on the end. The mask is, well, he’s our security,” Soap smirked to himself enjoying his little game. “Rest of us are just regular old workers, except this lady,” he patted Emma lightly on the thigh, but then never removed his hand, the weight of his palm sent a wave of heat through Emma but she didn’t betray anything on her face. “With all the civil unrest and some emergency situations, they needed some more medical personnel.”
“She was saying she was a medic in the Air Force,” Sam explained with a small nod, his eyes darting to where Soap still hadn’t removed his hand from Emma’s leg. Catching the look Soap squeezed his hand lightly, as if showing Sam exactly what was going on here.
“Yes, well, I continued outside of the Air Force and got my degree. I’ve been working for the embassy since as a medical consultant,” Emma answered, her eyes cutting to Soap in the corners, but she kept her focus on Sam. “I go where they send me. I just finished a job down in Africa a few months ago, thought I would be home for a little while but here we are. So, if you enjoy traveling and decide not to make a career out of the military, it’s always an option.” She smiled nicely at Sam but kept her hands firmly curled around the book in her lap, the fingers digging into the spine as Soap dared to slide his hand about an inch up her thigh.
Sam opened his mouth to say something else when someone called out to him a row over. It looked like all of his friends were staring at the situation and one of them quickly gestured for him to come join them. Without even looking Emma knew Soap was smirking from ear to ear at the situation he had caused. “I should go,” Sam said then suddenly stood up, straightening out his shirt. “It was nice talking with you,” he added looking at Emma and barely glancing at Soap.
“Bye Sam,” Soap called and Emma nudged him hard in the side with her elbow after Sam had turned and hustled away. She could feel Soap holding in his laugh and Emma rounded on him once Sam was out of earshot.
“That was incredibly rude,” she hissed, “he was only being polite. He carried my bag on which none of you offered to help,” she leaned and glared at the rest of the group who also looked like they were busting to laugh.
“He was being polite because you’re the prettiest thing he’s probably seen in a month,” Soap answered her. “And he was hoping you’d find him just as cute and nice,” he taunted before finally laughing. “I know, I was that boy at one point,” he added, “any girl stepped onto the base and we were all fighting for their attention.”
“You still didn’t need to run him off, I can hold my own,” Emma answered before she batted his hand away from her leg. “He’s nervous about his first deployment, he didn’t say it but I could tell. And none of you helped that,” she leaned around Soap again to give them all a look before sitting back in her chair.
“Ah, it’s all in good fun,” Soap said as he looked up to see Sam and his friends looking over at them. Soap gave them a little wave and they suddenly were all looking around at something else having been caught in their staring. “He’ll learn to be smoother about talking to women over time, he’s still green.”
“Oh yes, and you are so smooth yourself,” Emma answered as she moved to crack open her book. The ramp on the plane was shutting now and the propellers were starting up so it was beginning to get loud.
“I won you over, didn’t I?” Soap asked though he leaned over to say it in her ear. Emma wasn’t sure if he did that because it was getting loud inside the cargo area or if he wanted to tease her. Either way, it worked and she felt goosebumps breakout down the back of her neck at his breath on her ear.
She didn’t answer him as she moved to pull her headphones on to block out the sound of the engine and everything starting to rattle. Even with the headphones on she could still hear how loud it was and she saw as other people were breaking out their own ear covers, including Soap. Determined to read Emma lifted her book into her eyesight and crossed one leg over the other as the plane began its taxi. It wasn’t long before she felt them lift into the air and while she had flown plenty of times the sudden lurch always made her uneasy for a moment. She glanced over at Soap who was leaning back in his own seat with his arms crossed over his chest and his head back completely at ease. He was apparently opting to sleep for the flight as was Ghost.
Emma made it a few chapters before the hum of the plane and the light vibrations started to rock her to sleep. It was just like driving in a car, if she was a passenger she was out within the hour of the drive starting. Telling herself she was just going to rest her eyes she pressed her thumb into the book and flipped it shut, leaning her head back on the seat. She saw out of the corner of her eye the rest of the guys had done the same, Price’s head hanging so far forward on his chest she didn’t know how he could breathe like that. Scooting herself down a bit Emma shut her eyes and felt herself drift off before she could even really comprehend what was happening.
Sometime later she was awoken as the plane took a dip, they had hit turbulence. Emma felt her head loll off what it was resting on and a hand gently pushed her shoulder back so she stayed in her seat. Blinking a few times she took in her surroundings, a bit disoriented, to find she was leaning over to the side and her head was resting on Soap’s shoulder. Her forgotten book was tucked safely under his thigh and he had draped his repaired jacket over her lap.
“How long was I out?” Emma asked before realizing there was no way he could hear her over his headphones. He probably didn’t even realize she was awake yet because he hadn’t looked over at her as he absentmindedly secured her back in her seat when she had slipped. Instead, his concentration was on the sketch he was currently working on in the journal-sized notebook in his hands. She had seen the notebook before, seen him taking notes in meetings with it, or had it out on the couch when they were relaxing in the evening.
She never pried into what he was doing but she dared to look now to find the page on the left was full of little sketches. The page he was currently working on had a drawing of her, asleep on his shoulder and how she looked from his angle. Her hair was obstructing most of her face, the overly large headphones setting it all askew. He had been able to see her parted lips as she breathed though and how her face was perfectly relaxed in her slumber. He thankfully hadn’t added on the drool that she was suddenly very self-consciously afraid was there. Emma adjusted a little bit as she watched his hands work the pencil over the finishing touches of the shading of her lips when he peered down to find her eyes open.
Soap grinned before reaching over to pull one of her headphones off her ear, “go back to sleep. We’ve still got about two hours to go,” he explained before setting the earpiece gently back down on her. He didn’t give her a chance to protest before he went back to work, glancing over at her every once in a while, to make sure he was getting the piece right. Emma didn’t close her eyes though; she was too busy watching and grinning to herself at the fact he had chosen to draw her. It was a simple gesture but it seemed extremely intimate at the same time. His drawing skills were a bit surprising, she never picked up on the fact he would draw she assumed it was just notes or doodling during meetings.
When he finished, he tucked his pencil into the small loop in the book to hold it there before he pushed the notebook into her hands. Emma sat up at that and gave him a questioning look to which he leaned over and pulled the headphone back again. “Take a look if you’re interested, nothing to hide in there,” he stated before letting go of the earpiece and stood up. Emma watched him stretch before he sidestepped down the aisle to walk toward the front of the plane to probably find a bathroom or just move around a bit. They had been sitting for hours now and Emma knew her back was going to be stiff by the time they landed.
Looking around to see if anyone else was watching, they weren’t, she finally dared to crack open the well-worn leather journal. She found that the leather outside was just a cover, he must have had it for years, transferring it from notebook to notebook as they filled up. Inside the pages were stuffed with small notes, scribbles, numbers that made no sense to her, dates and times, or random words. But there were also drawings, tons of drawings. Some were quick basic sketches of people or animals, sometimes buildings or even plants. He had a few schematics of what she was guessing were buildings he worked in but as she flipped through, she spotted familiar things. There were a few of the 141 in there, their faces so lifelike Emma looked up at their sleeping forms to compare them before she continued to flip through.
As she got further along, she found the first sketch of her. She faced sideways to him, her face turned to look ahead of her with her hair pulled back into a tight bun. He had captured the tight look in her eyes, she was concentrating on something, and her hand was on a table taking notes. It must have been during a meeting or some sort of intel training that Alex was putting on, something that Soap didn’t need to concentrate on so he decided to draw instead. Emma grinned as she ran her fingers over it before flipping the page to find another sketch of her at the gun range from behind. Her hair was tied in a braid down her back and Gaz was there as well instructing her, she was in a shooting stance and the gun holster on her thigh was snapped open as if she had just pulled her gun from it.
She continued to flip through and as she got further along sketches of her started to make more frequent appearances. Her lounging on the couch after a long day, working in the gym, standing with her oversized helmet on glaring at him from behind her scarf, curled up asleep in a lounge chair. But mixed in were other sketches from Soap’s life. Ghost’s mask, the symbol for the 141, a random military truck, some sort of gun, and finally she found a self-portrait. It was rough, like he had started on it then never went back to smooth everything out. She sat and stared at it for a while, her eyes taking in all the angles and shadows, how his mohawk laid to one side and curled slightly at the ends, he had a cut on his cheek when he had done it and the scar by his eyebrow was prominently outlined. She was engrossed in it when Soap finally came back and took his seat next to her, leaning over to see what she was looking at.
Emma pulled her headphones off and looked at Soap, obviously portraying a look of surprise and awe. “That’s not even my best work,” Soap scoffed at her reaction, “it’s not even finished.” He moved to flip the page so she would move on from it but Emma stopped him and held the page down with her fingers gently.
“I think it’s my favorite,” Emma stated and she saw the look on his face, “I’m serious. It’s raw but just something about it,” she ran her finger down the jaw before looking back up at Soap. She had never seen him blush, and she doubted she would, but the look on his face was very close. “You’re really talented Johnny,” she stated knowing no one could hear her use his name, “I mean it. These are incredible,” she flipped back to the one of her on the shooting range pointing out the shading and shadows.
“I’ll show you my favorite. And it’s actually a good one compared to your favorite,” Soap teased after a moment before gently taking the book from her hand and flipping forward a few pages. He stopped and looked over it for a second before handing the book back to her. This sketch took up both pages and Emma gasped a bit as she took it in. It was of her again. She was lying on the couch on her stomach with her chin resting on her hands, which were laid flat on the cushions, her gaze looking up at him. She had a smile on her lips that reached her eyes and her hair was hanging loose around her face and down her shoulders. It was nighttime because she had her pajamas on and her socked feet were dangling over the couch arm.
“It’s beautiful,” Emma stated after a moment of looking it over before looking back at Soap again. He had a genuine smile on his face, one that someone had when they were full of pride in their own work and enjoyed the praise. “When did you draw this?” She asked turning back to look at it again.
“I’ve worked on it for a while,” he shrugged, “but I started it about a week after you signed your contract and agreed to stay on.” He gestured for her to continue, willing to share this intimate part of him with her. It was enough to give Emma a pleasurable squirm in her stomach, making her wish they were alone before she sat back and continued to flip through the pages slowly. She leaned up against his arm a bit as she admired everything and Soap peered over looking between the work and her face before shutting his eyes peacefully and settling into a nap. Going through the artwork had taken up the rest of the trip and Soap awoke when the pilot came over the intercom to announce their descent.
Price was the first off the plane to get their transport to Kiev. It was a plain black van that could fit them all, albeit tightly, so they wouldn’t get separated. Emma took advantage of the few minutes they had before they piled into the van and stretched herself out. Her back was tight and she could feel the discomfort in her hips as she pushed herself into runner stretch, groaning a bit at the tug in her thighs. Soap had carried her medical bag for her and when Price rolled around with the van, he tossed it in the trunk as did everyone else with their stuff.
“Couldn’t have sprung for anything bigger?” Gaz asked as he peered into the very tight quarters. The van wasn’t much bigger than something you would take as quick transport to the airport. Ghost had taken the front passenger seat without anyone trying to fight him for it and Price was driving, so that left the rest of them to figure it out.
“Biggest they had,” Price said as he turned around to look at them all climbing in. Emma immediately went to the back row, being the shortest on the team she could curl herself in a bit tighter. Soap immediately joined her, his body barely fitting into the tight space but he made it work. Gaz had the row in front of them to himself, a smirk on his face as he stretched out with his legs on the seat, then Alex and Crane each took up a captain’s chair behind Price and Ghost. “All set?” Price asked and everyone gave their confirmation before he drove off.
The Ukraine landscape was vastly different than what she had been looking at for the past few months, it was a nice change. The land was lush and green with rolling hills and mountains in the distance covered in snow and Emma leaned her arm on the window to look out as they drove. She missed the fresh crisp air, it reminded her of home, and it was nice to not be sweating from the moment you woke up until you went to sleep.
Emma shifted a bit to better lean her head against the window when Soap’s hand gently slid into hers, threading their fingers together. Emma grinned and squeezed his hand, looking over at him to find him watching her before he glanced off at a window on his other side. Price had asked for them to be inconspicuous and Emma knew Ghost was not pleased with their situation, so she was okay with being lowkey like this. Enjoying one another’s company and touch without being obvious, like it was their own little secret tucked all the way in the back of the van. After a while Soap rubbed his thumb gently over her knuckles and Emma shifted her leg to rest against his for the duration of the ride.
As they got closer to Kiev everyone seemed to be a little more alert, Soap slipping his hand out of Emma’s to sit up straighter and watch the area around them. While the city itself looked okay in the distance, driving up was another story. There were destroyed houses, people in the streets cleaning and other people watching them closely as they drove through. The political landscape had been a mess for years and Russian interference was not helping. Emma listened as Price explained everything that was happening and as the men around her asked questions. They didn’t venture too far into what they were doing there, waiting for the safety of the safe house just in case there were any bugs.
The safe house itself was a very small two-story house on the outskirts of the city. It looked rundown on the outside and when they all climbed out a feral cat darted under the back porch that was sagging on one side. Price ushered them all in and once inside he locked the door and peered out the windows to make sure they weren’t followed but the streets were empty. The inside of the house wasn’t much better than the outside, the kitchen tiles and walls were tinged yellow from years of someone smoking inside, and the carpet had very questionable stains and was missing in some spots as if someone just cut chunks out of it. The furniture was dingy and Emma toed at an old-looking cardboard box, afraid something may be alive inside of it.
“It’s not much but it’s secure,” Price stated before pointing at the bookshelf. Alex immediately went over and pulled it off the wall like a door, and once opened the inside revealed a bunch of surveillance equipment, monitors, and gear. Alex pulled over a chair that had seen better days before he started working on logging in and starting everything up. “Gear is upstairs,” Price stated and Crane and Gaz bolted for the steps, shoving one another playfully as they went to check out what they had. “You can go through and set up all your medical stuff in the spare room over there,” Price gestured to what must have been the dining room at some point.
“Do you think I’m going to need it? I thought this was just information gathering,” Emma inquired as Soap grabbed the bag for her to lug it into the next room.
“Always be prepared,” Ghost said simply, “best to know what you have to work with just in case something doesn’t go to plan” It was the first words he had spoken to her since the night before, they weren’t clipped or angry either. It was fairly civil for him and it was jarring enough that Emma just turned around and walked into her area to start sorting through everything.
It took her well over an hour to pull everything out and get it in some sort of semblance of order, making a mental inventory and checking the packing list. They had provided her with pretty much everything she would need in an emergency situation to keep someone alive until they got to the hospital. It even went as far as a small portable AED and quick set cast for a broken bone. She was zipping all of the pockets shut now that the bag was empty when Price called them all back into the living room to start handing out files for all of their marks and discussing tactics.
Emma took her folder and flipped it open to find the left side was full of pictures of a man and the right had all his information. Mikhail Lebedev, heir to a very wealthy Russian family that owned an arms dealing factory that had exclusive contracts with the Russian military. He was a single businessman, almost a decade older than her, known for being a playboy that liked to flash his money. He was suspected with helping push Russian agendas among the rebels in Ukraine and even supplying them with money and weapons. Emma pulled a face as she flipped through the pictures, he wasn’t bad looking at all with his broad shoulders and head of dark curly hair, but she could tell by just looking at his body language he was full of himself. He knew he could get what he wanted when he wanted it and he never took no for an answer.
“I hope you slept on the plane,” Price stated as he looked at Emma while everyone flipped through their files. Alex had a pile of all of them since he was staying behind to coordinate and keep tabs. “There’s a big meet-up this evening hosted by Mikhail. Laswell secured us an in to get into the club,” Price stated before pointing at Gaz, Soap, and Crane, “they will be going in with you, their own marks will be in attendance but we’re mostly concerned about Mikhail tonight, we think there may be a deal going down in the next few days. Gaz will be playing your security guard, Soap and Crane are your close friends,” all of them nodded though Emma was confused about what role she would be playing if she needed security.
“You’re a wealthy American heiress on a tour of Europe before your marriage,” Price explained and Emma’s eyebrows shot straight up, this was news to her. Since when was she going to be playing the bait and interacting with her mark. “He likes money and things he can’t have,” Price continued before he dug around in his jacket pocket and tossed a bank deposit bag onto the table in front of Emma. “You don’t have to do anything you are uncomfortable with,” he stated as Emma pulled the bag toward her and opened it up to reveal a large stack of cash in Ukrainian currency as well as jewelry, a different passport, and other various documents. “We just need you to keep him sufficiently distracted while the rest of them work the room, see if you can get anything out of him. Ghost is going to work on trying to get into his penthouse to plant a few bugs while Mikhail’s…busy.”
“What am I going to do with this?” Emma asked as she held up a few of the bills, “I don’t think he would want my money if he’s as rich as you say,” she continued though she had a feeling where this was going.
“You need to look and dress the part,” Price answered simply and Emma finally dared a glance at Soap. His face was unreadable as he took in his instructions but she could see his hands were curled into loose fists on the table. This was part of the job though; this is what they both signed up for and Price had made it very clear that the job could not be affected by their feelings. “There are some clothes upstairs in the master bedroom already, Laswell had them sent. I have no idea what she picked for you, but hopefully, they are warm. There’s a chance it’ll snow tonight,” Price looked pointedly at Ghost who merely nodded. Snow meant footprints so he would have to cover his tracks.
“If I’m supposed to catch his eye, I doubt the clothes will be very warm,” Emma muttered as she pulled out a very expensive looking diamond bracelet and ran it through her fingers. This was probably worth more than what she made on a single contract job. “I suppose I’ll go get ready?” Emma asked, sounding braver than she felt. She couldn’t back down now, she had been training for months for this and they were depending on her to get the work done. She could flirt and flash a little skin to keep Mikhail busy while the guys worked their own marks. Plus, she was due to be ‘married’ so there shouldn’t be any expectation from Mikhail of her, though Price’s comment about him liking things he couldn’t have stuck out in her mind.
When no one said anything to her Emma pushed out from her chair, tucking the file and bank deposit bag of items under her arm, and headed up the creaky stairs with her personal bag. The house was cold as she made her way to the master, which mercifully was actually nice and clean compared to the rest of the house though Emma wouldn’t be surprised if there were still a few mice or roaches lurking in the corners. Finding the closet Emma pulled it open and stared at the clothes Laswell had sent for all of them, a mix of dresses for her and formal wear for the men. There were a bunch and she had an uncomfortable feeling she was going to be playing this heiress for more than one night.
“For fucks sake,” Emma breathed as her fingers danced over the satin and silk of the dresses. None of them left much to the imagination and she picked a bright pink one off the hanger and held it up before quickly putting it back with a solid ‘no’ muttered under her breath. Some of the dresses were short cut and tight, obviously meant for the club scene but others were floor length and elegant, meant for nice dinners or galas. The only formal dresses she had worn in her life were for school dances or the Air Force ball. All of her dresses were off the rack from local department stores but these just oozed designer made, custom. “I’m going to feel so out of place,” she stated to herself as she tried to choose what to wear that night.
Overwhelmed by the dresses, Emma decided to get her hair and makeup done first, which she could do while she mused over in her mind what to wear that night. In the bathroom, she found stacks of different makeup and hair products and she groaned looking over all of it. It had been so long since she put on a full face of makeup or even curled her hair, she would be surprised she’d remember how but she needed to look like she did this effortlessly every day. So, she got to work. Emma used the foundation she found to cover up bruises and marks she thought would be seen under her clothes, though she decided that maybe a few wouldn’t be a bad idea to leave a bit visible. Maybe Mikhail liked women who could take a few hits or acted like they enjoyed that type of thing. He looked like he would, the smug bastard.
It took her a while to primp and clean herself, lotioning up her skin, pulling her hair this way and that to get it to curl just right then spraying everything to set. If it weren’t for the circumstances, she may have been happy with how she looked, it did look like she was going out on a very fancy date. Even the undergarments she had found felt luxurious under the bathrobe that she had plucked off the bathroom door and pulled on. At least Laswell appreciated the work that went into getting ready and made sure she was comfortable while doing it.
One more pause in the mirror Emma stared at her reflection, barely recognizing herself as she twisted a curl back and pinned it to frame her face. Hearing someone outside of the bathroom door in the bedroom Emma paused and tightened the belt around her robe before walking out. She found Soap sitting on the bed and he gave a low whistle as he took her in, his hands finishing up the buttons of his shirt.
“Lass…Gaz is going to have his hands full keeping everyone off of you,” he stated as he moved to roll up the sleeves of his shirt, folding the cuffs in a slow deliberate manner. He was dressed nicely as well; black slacks and a simple dark blue button-down shirt that he had left the collar undone. His shoes were shined dress shoes, forgoing the usual boots or sneakers, and he had trimmed up his beard and was freshly shaved as well. Seeing him like that took everything Emma had to just not drop the robe there and jump him, especially with the way his eyes ran over her in an almost possessive manner.
“I’m more worried about all the women with you,” Emma noted as she turned to the closet to finally pick out a dress. “I’ll at least have Gaz running interference but you’ll be thrown to the wolves,” she said as she mused between the red and black number, turning them this way and that on their hangers. She would have felt much more comfortable in the floor-length numbers but she knew that wasn’t practical tonight, and not the point of it either. She needed to show some skin, catch eyes, and keep those eyes distracted.
“I’ll be watching you all night, no one else is going to hold my gaze like you,” Soap said quietly as he came to stand behind her with one hand on her hip, the other reaching around to look at the dresses himself. “I won’t be able to concentrate,” he breathed into her ear which made her shiver slightly and lean back into him. He ran his forefinger and thumb over the different materials before pulling the short dark blue dress out, similar to the color shirt he was wearing. “This one,” he stated, deciding for her and handing her the dress. Emma nodded took it from him and moved to head to the bathroom to change but Soap grabbed her wrist and gently pulled her back to him.
Emma felt her breath catch as he twisted her back around to face him again. She tilted her head up to him, arms hung loosely at her sides, waiting for him to continue. Soap didn’t say a word as he undid the belt of her robe, never breaking eye contact with her, and let the fabric fall open slowly to reveal her dark lingerie underneath. She caught the eye flare as he pushed the robe off her shoulders and Emma let the fabric fall until it caught in her elbows.
“Did Laswell do this to torture me?” Soap groaned as his fingers trailed lightly over the material covering her breasts. The lace wasn’t doing much as far as coverage but undergarments that went under these types of dresses weren’t meant to be modest. Soap's fingers splayed against one breast and squeezed gently, causing Emma to gasp, before he slid his fingers down her bare stomach to toy with the elastic band of her underwear on her hip. “Fucking hell,” he muttered as he glanced down to the garters on her thighs that were holding up her stockings with delicate little clips. He swallowed hard, as if to restrain himself, before grabbing her hips with both hands and pulling her tight against him.
“If you weren’t all done up already, I’d have you bent over that bed right now,” he stated, leaning down to nuzzle the side of his face against hers so he could whisper in her ear. “Test out how quiet you can be as I fucked you in this lingerie,” he bit at her ear lobe which caused her to gasp and her hands shot out to grab at his forearms. “Well…until I ripped all the pretty lace into shreds,” he continued, pressing a kiss over her racing pulse on her neck. His hands slid around to her bare ass and his fingertips squeezed into the skin there as he pulled her even tighter against him so Emma could feel how badly he wanted her.
“How fast can you be?” Emma asked, almost pleading with him to do everything he had just stated and more. It was a risk with everyone here but her brain was so clouded with lust for the man standing in front of her she was willing to take it. She had been wanting to jump him for two days now but things kept getting in the way. She’d even take a heavy make-out session at this point, she just wanted him to keep touching her. “Makeup can always be touched up,” she continued, her hand drifting to press up against the seam of his pants which was incredibly tight at the moment.
“I can do fast and dirty,” Soap ground out as his fingers slipped between her legs from behind, pushing the thin strip of underwear to the side to feel the wetness there. He huffed and slid his fingers away, earning a whine of disappointment from Emma who had opened her legs a bit wider to give him better access. “But I’m not that fast and Price is waiting,” he ground out before unwrapping his arms from around her reluctantly.
Emma felt like she was going to combust as she looked at him and almost grabbed his wrist and dragged his hand back to her body but he was right, they needed to get going. Soap took the dress that was draped over her arm and gestured to help her into it, twisting her around by the hips to do up the back. His hands were nimble as they pulled up the zipper and slid the diamond necklace around her neck, though he kept running his hands over her body as he worked; especially as he helped her strap on the heels, his fingers gently massaging her calves and kissing the inside of her knee.
“When you’re busy flirting with Mikhail I want you to think of me undressing you later,” he said as he slowly rose from the floor where he had knelt in front of the bed to lean over her instead. “And when he talks a big game to you,” his hand slid up her skirt and he grabbed one of her garters between two fingers. He picked the material up a few inches from her skin before letting the elastic snap back on her thigh with a sharp sting, “I want you to think of how you felt screaming my name in that warehouse.” He smirked and dared a quick kiss to her lips, not wanting to smear her lipstick, “and if he tries anything with you, I want you to know I’ll break his fucking skull.” The last sentence was a lethal promise and Soap locked eyes with Emma to emphasize it. Emma felt the shiver of fear, but also comfort, shoot down her back from his words before he pulled away to stand up straight and offer her his arm.
“You better stick to that promise of undressing me later Johnny,” Emma stated as she loosed a breath she didn’t realize she was holding before she smoothed her skirt back out and grabbed her small clutch. She had stuffed some cash in the little black purse along with her lipstick, a burner phone, her fake passport, and a small knife in the zipper pocket. “Or I may just get Mikhail’s number and call him up if you can’t satisfy me. He looks like he knows his way around a woman,” she smirked and Soap all but growled his displeasure at her words but he moved to help her out of the room and down the stairs.
“Well don’t you look cute,” Gaz stated as he buttoned the cuffs on his suit jacket and stuck the earpiece in his ear. Emma rolled her eyes at him but he just laughed. His cover as her security would allow him to have a direct line with Alex where they could talk back and forth without issue. Emma was handed a small earpiece that went so far into her ear canal it was barely visible and in the dark lighting of a club behind her hair, no one would see it. The microphone piece was a small button that clipped right onto her bra strap and she tested it with Alex before heading out to the car. It was an actual car this time, not the van, a sleek black Cadillac looking thing. Gaz walked to the front to drive, shoving his second pistol into the glove box, his first one was on a chest holster under his jacket.
Emma, Crane, and Soap slid into the back, the two men were dressed the same in button-down shirts and black slacks, large watches on their wrists, and rings on their fingers. Emma jiggled her foot the whole ride over and Soap gently patted her knee as they rode in relative silence. The closer they got to the club the more nervous she became and when Gaz pulled up to the valet, she took a deep breath and waited for the door to open. Time to put on the act.
#fanfic#fanfiction#call of duty fanfic#cod fanfic#ao3 fanfic#ao3 writer#ao3 author#my fic#soap fanfic#call of duty#cod#johnny soap mactavish#john soap mactavish#soap cod#soap x oc#would it be enough?
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ok one last dip into "the Izcourse" before I take my own advice and pivot to rewatching S1 in prep and posting about what I love!
We get a lot of trolls, and harassers, and staunch antis looking to pick a fight with the "bad fans" who either drop bait or jump on people's posts to be annoying. That's the flame war part of all this mess. But we also get a fair number of posts from "neutral" people that I want to gripe about for a moment because at least the antis are misrepresenting "what Izzy fans believe / discuss" because they are actively against my take on the show for whatever reason. But it's more annoying to me personally when it's just... a lack of effort.
(And I've mentioned this before)
Like... a "neutral" observer weighing in on "The Izcourse" is a member of the general fandom who doesn't care enough about Izzy to really be an anti. Their perspective on the matter is coming from directly or indirectly following people in the antis' main meta circle. We know this, because just about every neutral person who was not from this background got classified as an Izzy apologist / problematic Edward thoughtcrimer and they are counted as in "the Canyon" now. We watched it happen a lot over the past year and a half. So the observer is not neutral, not really, but they probably aren't heavily blocking / blocked if they don't care and don't talk about Izzy.
Which makes it so frustrating when they feel the need to bring up "concerning" trends among Izzy fans and their interpretations and then they don't know what those interpretations are.
Like - in the most patient tone I can possibly manage - scrolling a bit of the Izzy Hands tag and taking fans squeeing about their blorbo as evidence there is no nuance in meta and too much babygirlifying here is dumb as fuck. Hell, even isolating a recent meta post and going "well I don't agree with this because XYZ" is still very much a "so what?" situation because that one person is not representing all Izzy fans? And also you still have a huge blind spot.
Because meta is - at its core - a collaborative structure.
You can't experience a particular branch of meta primarily through people vaguing or screenshotting and dunking on whatever looks the worst, then skim a little bit of a tag and be able to confidently call out what the "problematic trends" are. You can't even understand where the random meta you singled out is coming from, because you don't know which posts they've been looking at for over a year. And this is all really highlighted by the fact when you go to dissect that post you disagree with, you'll do it by just saying things that you understand to be established, well-defended facts from your own circle of meta and not back them up at all. Because in your mind you don't need to! And yet the post you're disagreeing with won't make sense because they are just assuming things and talking about this fanon version of Izzy you don't recognize. 🤷♀️
(This is why my typical meta post is linking to three separate discussions, lol. I'm building off of things said before like basically every meta writer, but I want those things referenced.)
If you aren't going to actually put in the effort to identify which blogs are the "major players" and then go back through tags or their popular posts or whatever to get an actual idea of what the meta structure Izzy Canyon has spent over a year discussing contains, then at least don't disparagingly comment on those people and discussions while lumping them into one "problematic" hive mind??? You don't know what you're talking about because you didn't care, and that's whatever. Just please stop confidently conflating random blog #7's generally happy post about how "i can't wait for my fave little guy to have friends 💕" with a concerning lack of discussions on Izzy's relationship with the crew.
My "#ofmd meta" tag - among others - is full of almost exclusively Izzy Canyon blogs writing complex posts about all sorts of things from romcom genre conventions to POC fans' takes on Edward's cptsd, and it's beyond annoying to see them repeatedly insinuated to have the depth of a puddle because the antis prefer to pile on a headcanon about Izzy reading and turn it into an insult to Edward's intelligence, and all the "neutral" blogs take it as gospel.
#i mean i do actually enjoy dissecting fandom dynamics a fair bit which is the only reason i weigh in as often as i do#if this was actually making me miserable or upsetting me i would just fully block and filter and never touch it again#but it is also varying levels of irritating so putting it on a backburner for now#pivot time!#the izcourse#ofmd harassment#ofmd meta#our flag means death#fuck it. main tagging. more people need to think about how meta works#fandom culture#ladyluscinia
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
Game On: Chapter Seven
Author's Note: Hi everyone! I'm sorry this chapter took so long to publish, I was having a bit of writers block. If you would like me to continue this story I would really appreciate if you could comment!
Ps. if you would like to be added to the tagged list, just comment your username :)
Chapter Six
Wanda burst through the door. “Hey roomie!” She smiled at (Y/N).
She tried to steady her breath, the possibility of someone seeing Bucky come out of the room rang around her mind like emergency alarms. She was one sentence away from seeing flashing red lights all around. “I thought you guys weren’t going to make it.”
“I’m happy to see you too.” The redhead chuckled dryly while she placed her bag on the disheveled bed and looked up at her. “Wow, you really move around at night.”
(Y/N) plastered a fake smile. “I’m a pretty restless sleeper.”
“Well thank god you were still asleep when we got in, if not you would have seen Bucky in all of his glory. I’m scared of the thought of you bursting into flames over that.” Wanda laughed. (Y/N) tried to gulp down the lump in her throat, containing all of last night’s memories. She tried to bury the thought of his arms wrapped around her and his lips roaming her body.
“You okay? You look like you’ve got a fever or something.” Wanda said coming closer to her and putting the palm of her hand on (Y/N)’s forehead.
(Y/N) cleared her throat. “I’m perfect, let’s go downstairs I still need to say hi to everybody.”
She took a step to the side and dodged any more of Wanda’s hand gestures, fearing she would notice her heart racing. (Y/N) hurried down the stairs and saw Bucky sitting on the couch next to Nat, Steve, and Sam. She lunged towards Natasha and enveloped her in a hug.
“Nat! I’m so glad you’re here.” She mumbled.
Natasha furrowed her eyebrows. “Wow, what happened to you? I thought you weren’t much of a hugger.”
“I’m just really happy to see you,” (Y/N) straightened herself up and turned to the boys. “And you guys too!”
“Your multiple personality disorder is awfully creepy.” Steve eyed her.
(Y/N) scoffed. “You guys have no idea how excited I am to be with people I actually want to be with.”
“I was truly afraid to come in here and see one or both of you dead.” Sam laughed while opening a beer.
“I still got time.” (Y/N) smiled over at Bucky, she wasn’t expecting the shivers she got down her spine once her eyes met his.
“So! What’s the plan for tonight?” Steve asked. “Same as always? Drinks at the pub in town?”
(Y/N) nodded with a smile. “I’ve prepped everything and the turkey is in the dry brine stage ready for tomorrow, I just have to chop some veggies for the sides. You guys can go unpack and I’ll get started on that.”
Everybody scattered around the house and (Y/N) took a couple of deep breaths to steady her pounding heart before grabbing the ingredients from the fridge.
“Barnes!” (Y/N) shrieked as she closed the refrigerator door. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”
He pulled her closer to him and placed a kiss on her lips before she swatted him away. “What the hell are you doing?”
“c’mon, the joke is up. You like me, I definitely like you. No need to pretend anymore.”
“I never said I liked you.” She put as much distance between them as she could by walking to the other side of the kitchen island.
“Never say never right? That’s what some people say?” He cheekily repeated the words she had said only a night before.
“Just because we spent the night together doesn’t mean I like you.” (Y/N) whispered, eyeing the hallway nearest to the kitchen making sure no one was to see their interaction.
“Oh doll, I remember much more than just spending the night. I remember your eyes going white when I did that thing where-“ Bucky was interrupted by (Y/N) shushing him as Wanda came down the stairs.
“You two look like you’re getting along.” Wanda smiled. “I heard zero yelling and or knives being sharpened.”
“Oh if you only knew.” Bucky smiled back before (Y/N) kicked him in the shin underneath the counter.
“We’ve been civil these past couple of days. It’s probably just the Christmas spirit in me.” (Y/N) said through gritted teeth, shooting her another fake smile.
“I’d say there’s been more than the Christmas spirit in you.” Bucky mumbled under his breath.
(Y/N)’s drink she had been sipping on got caught in her throat.
“I’m gonna go upstairs and get changed, I think we should get some food at the restaurant near the bar before.” Bucky smiled.
“I’m gonna get started on these.” (Y/N) said pointing down at the assorted vegetables.
Wanda eyed both of them before slowly nodding. “You need any help?” She asked (Y/N), her eyes never leaving Bucky as he walked past them and up the stairs.
“Oh, I just realized I forgot my phone upstairs.” (Y/N) said before Wanda could even speak another word. “I’ll be right back. Just start cutting the carrots.”
She hurried up the stairs and looked both ways before going into the bathroom. Bucky was just about to get in the shower.
“What the hell is wrong with you!” (Y/N) whispered, shoving her finger into his surprisingly firm chest.
He took her hand and brought her closer to him, wrapping his bare arms around her body. “Tsk, tsk. Doll, that’s no way of talking to me.” He whispered in her ear.
She shoved him away. “I’m being serious! I don’t want anyone knowing.”
“Why does it matter anyways? It’s not like our friends are going to be pissed off when we start dating! They’re always complaining about us not getting along.”
“Dating?! What the hell are you going on about. Whatever this is,” she said pointing to the two of them. “Only happened yesterday. We are not going to date.”
Bucky rolled his eyes. “When will you drop the act?”
“There’s no act. Nothing happened between us. Just a spur of the moment kind of thing.” She faced the other way.
Bucky took one step to be less than an inch away from her. “So you’re saying what happened yesterday will never happen again?” He whispered into her ear.
(Y/N) took a deep breath in. “Never again.”
“And you felt nothing for me these past days?” His voice traveled down, making the hairs on her neck stand up.
“Nothing.” She murmured.
Both of his hands roamed her back and stopped at her thighs. Grabbing them firmly and briskly bringing her body up on the countertop next to the bathroom sink. Discarding her bottoms with one movement.
He started lowering himself down, his eyes never leaving hers. “And you don’t want what we did yesterday to happen again?” He placed a kiss on her newly exposed skin.
(Y/N) threw her head back and closed her eyes. “No cheating doll, you have to look at me when answering.” She heard him say, his voice darker than before.
“No,” Her attempts to sound strong failed as her voice quivered. “I don’t want what we did yesterday to happen again.”
He settled both of his knees on the floor and ran his hands from her ankles to her hips, opening her legs slightly just so he could fit between them.
“And not even begging will change your mind?” He questioned, looking at her through his eyelashes.
“B-begging?” She swallowed.
Bucky hummed in agreeance while placing a small kiss on the inside of her thighs. “I’m begging you.”
His firm voice sent shivers down her spine. “I think- I- we could-“ the words got caught in her throat. “No one could know.”
“No one could know.” He repeated slowly nodding his head as he inched closer to her. “A gentleman has no memory.”
“Friends with benefits.” She muttered.
“I love both the friends and the benefits part.” Bucky agreed, his kisses had become sloppier and more erratic as he was getting closer to where she wanted him the most.
“So it’s settled, secret friends with benefits.” She gasped a little louder than she wanted to once he arrived. Bucky placed his hand on her mouth to try to cover any more sounds but, it wasn’t enough. There was soon a knock on the bathroom door.
“Hey Buck, you okay in there?” Sam’s voice came through.
Bucky quickly got off of his knees and shot (Y/N) a wink before opening the door barely for him to go out and shut it behind him.
“I wouldn’t recommend you go in there.” Bucky warned. “I just walked in on (Y/N) and I think she’s got some sort of stomach bug.”
“Is she okay?” Sam asked wearily.
“Yeah, I think the diarrhea will pass soon.” She could almost hear the smile in his voice.
“Oh-okay well- feel better.” Sam said through the door and (Y/N) muttered a quick ‘thanks’ as she got off the vanity top.
She looked at her reflection in the mirror, the sparkle in her eyes and the anchored smirk on her mouth made her brain flash a huge red warning sign but she shoved any feeling of danger far into the unopened pandoras box. Even if she couldn’t see the end and even if she didn’t know if this would be a good decision, (Y/N) decided to cherish this feeling.
Soon, the six friends were filing into two cars to drive down to the pub in town. Nat and (Y/N) got into Steve’s car, backing out and heading down the road.
“Someone asked about you.” Natasha said looking at (Y/N) coyly through the rearview mirror.
(Y/N) furrowed her eyebrows. “Somebody asked about me? What about me?”
“Not just someone, Peter.” Steve’s smile was basically audible, but his eyes never left the road.
“When was this?” She asked slowly, opening her phone to see if she had any notifications from Peter. “Why would he ask you guys if he could just ask me directly?”
“It’s no fun when you start thinking logically.” The redhead rolled her eyes. “It happened this morning. We went in to get some coffee before getting on the road and he asked about you.”
“He said something about knowing you were going to drive up here before the roads were closed and he wanted to know if you’d gotten in safe.” Steve complemented.
(Y/N) slowly unfurrow her eyebrows and looked out the window.
“In other words, he likes you!” Natasha said frankly.
“Of course he likes me, we’re friends.”
“Oh god, you do really suck the fun out of everything.” Natasha rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe I have to say it like this. He like likes you.”
“We’re just friends.” (Y/N) repeated her friend’s inflection.
“Does he know that?” Steve asked. “Cause the kid looks pretty smitten over you.”
“Who even uses the word smitten.” (Y/N) scoffed. “Get with the times grandpa.”
“What I mean is that, I think the kid actually likes you. He seemed pretty worried about you being safe and all. Made sure we knew that you were safe.” Steve said, his eyes looking back at her for a microsecond, then back on the road. ‘Safety first.’ (Y/N) could almost hear him saying this in his mind.
“He knows we’re just friends.” (Y/N) said under her breath as they pulled into the parking space on the main street.
“Well, I think you should double check on that because it doesn’t seem like he knows.” Nat said as the three of them got out of the car.
“Please don’t tell me that my morally correct parents are scolding me.” (Y/N) laughed, they were joined by the rest of the group and walked into the restaurant.
“This title brings me much honor.” Steve said as he stood up straight and held his head high.
“Me, not so much. I would rather be morally corrupt.” Nat shrugged her shoulders.
“What are these two going on about?” Sam asked as he put his arm over (Y/N)’s shoulders.
She rolled her eyes. “Something about me not being clear.”
“Ohh,” Sam teased. “Are we talking about a certain freshman?”
“Not you too.” She rolled her eyes and followed the hostess to their table, wanting to avoid any more questioning.
“He looked really cute today.” Wanda smiled as she sat in front of (Y/N).
“Was the whole city in our campus’ coffee shop? I already told everyone that we’re just friends.”
“We’re just saying, it’ll do no harm if you call him and tell him you’re okay and that you’d like to go on a date with him.” Steve raised his menu to try and cover his smile.
“I’m in the mood for a home style meal, what about you guys?” She said trying to shut down any more of her pestering friends’ comments.
“What? Are you scared to go on a date with the kid?” Sam teased.
Bucky perked up. “You’re going on a date?”
(Y/N) rolled her eyes. “I’m not going on a date, and we’re just friends!”
Four out of the five people at the table opened their mouths. “And before any of you say anything, yes I have been clear and no I will not be sending him a text.”
They all slowly shut their jaws, (Y/N) sighed and smiled at them. “I appreciate you guys looking out for me but I’m not looking to date right now.”
“Fine, fine, if that topic is off the table I guess we can talk about next season.” Sam said and Wanda groaned.
“Look what you have done, left us with nothing else to talk about but soccer.”
(Y/N) smiled and looked down at her phone but on the way down, her eyes caught Bucky’s. The flash of blue startling her, she turned around.
“How the hell was I supposed to know that the chains went on the tires at mile 43?!” Sam’s laughter boomed throughout the place.
“Well maybe the fact that you’ve lived near snow your whole life could have been an indicator.” Bucky replied, making Steve choke on his beer.
It had been a couple of hours since they’d left the restaurant and moved over to the bar next door. The place could have been part of a movie set, actually the whole town could be. (Y/N) had thought of that before. The main street filled with quirky stores that would only sell strange overpriced knickknacks and the singular family-owned furniture store that was a carbon copy of Restoration Hardware, whose owners would say that they were currently in a legal battle with said store because it stole their ideas.
“Something about copyright infringement!” The owner had once yelled at (Y/N) with his thick accent.
The owner’s wife shook her head and rolled her eyes as she scanned the pillow (Y/N) had chosen. “It’s called intellectual property Mort! I’ve told him this a thousand times.”
“Whatever it is, those fuckers have got to give me some money!” He yelled back at her. “You gonna want some inserts for that cover cause I’ve got some going on sale.”
“I’m good.” (Y/N) laughed and thanked them.
“I don’t even know why I bother with her, it’s like she doesn’t even listen.” Wanda complained, waving her hand in front of (Y/N)’s eyes.
“Do you ever think about the couple with the furniture store that’s a couple of doors down?” She asked her friends.
“You are seriously insane if you’re thinking about the yellers while drinking.” Nat shot her a confused look.
“It’s just, I feel like things back then weren’t so complicated. She knows he’s crazy and she loves him for that, and he knows she’ll never believe him and he’s okay with that.” (Y/N) explained, swirling the olives in her almost empty glass.
“Well, I for one think love is overrated.” Sam chimed in. “Old people love, that is.”
“You better take that back Samuel!” Wanda clutched her imaginary pearls. “You don’t believe in love?”
Sam shrugged. “I believe that unconditional love is fake. It never has existed and it never will exist. It’s just something a director fabricated so we’ll watch more romcoms.”
Bucky’s scoff joined the conversation.
“I would love to hear what our eternal bachelor thinks about the conversation.” Natasha smiled.
“I believe that love is uncomplicated. We get so caught up in what should happen and what things people should do that we become the ill-fated director of our own love life. If we just took a step back and let things take their natural course, we would see that love is truly simple. And every piece falls into place.” Bucky held his cup up. “And for that, lets cheers.”
Everyone at the table cheered on and after the noise died down, Natasha turned to her roommate. “You seriously don’t have one snarky comment about what Bucky just said?”
(Y/N) bit her lip but her smile got the best of her. “Sometimes, when he’s not an absolute prick he makes some incredibly astute comments.”
“And that, ladies and gentlemen,” Bucky stood up and bowed. “is how you do it.”
(Y/N) laughed and made her way to the bar. “Could I just get a glass of water?” She asked the bartender.
“You’re way more fun when you drink.” A recognizable voice said from behind her.
“Ha-ha.” She said sarcastically. “You, are way more romantic when you drink. That speech out there sure fooled everyone at the table.”
“Doll, when I speak from the heart the ladies’ pants start to drop.” He winked at her.
(Y/N) threw her head back from laughter and lightly shoved him away. “That was seriously the most uncool thing I think I have ever heard.”
“I’ve got more where that came from.” He winked at her.
“This conversation is just a trainwreck waiting to happen so, I think I’m going to tap out.” (Y/N) said getting her phone out to get a cab.
“I can take you back to the cabin, if-if you want me to.” Bucky cleared his throat and looked away.
(Y/N) shot him a small smile. “I wouldn’t want you to leave just because I’m not really a ‘Let’s get blackout drunk at a bar’ kind of gal.”
“I’ll let you in on a secret.” Bucky got closer to her. “I’m not really that type of guy either. I’ve been drinking the same watered-down glass of whiskey since we got here.”
“Nice little party trick you’ve got going on.” She laughed as she took a sip of his 90% water drink.
“I’m ready to leave when you are doll.” He flashed his perfect smile at her and she nodded. “Irish Exit?”
“I can’t think of a better way of leaving.” She replied. “Let me just grab my bag and my coat.”
(Y/N) made her way back to the table and grabbed her belongings, making a few comments here and there to the table so they wouldn’t see she was about to leave. (Y/N) had already made it out the door when she heard her name being called from behind her.
“Where are you going!” Wanda asked, quickly putting on her coat ang coming out of the bar. “It’s barely one.”
“I-um- I think I drank one too many.” She lied with a smile. “Plus, I’ve got to be up pretty early tomorrow. Feeding you guys is no easy task.”
Wanda nodded. “Okay but let me tell one of the guys to take you back!”
She was about to turn around when (Y/N) answered. “No worries, I’ve already got a ride.”
Wanda’s look of confusion only deepened once she saw Bucky behind (Y/N). His back was against the wall of the bar, the neon sign shone blue and red shadows across his face.
“So, um, Ill text you when we get there.” (Y/N) said and Wanda slowly nodded. She turned on her heel and walked towards Bucky. “Let’s go.”
Before Wanda turned around, she caught a glimpse of Bucky. Looking down at (Y/N), on his face an emotion that she’d never seen before. This only confused her even more.
Once they were on their way back, Bucky asked the question that had been roaming his mind for hours. “What’s going on between you and that kid?”
(Y/N) groaned. “Do I seriously have to answer that question?”
“You left it pretty clear that you aren’t going to date the guy but, what’s your deal with him?”
“There is no deal.”
“You may be able to fool those guys but don’t try to do that shit with me.” Bucky said sternly, he noticed his knuckles going white from holding them down on the steering wheel.
“What’s it to you anyways.” She replied, her tone becoming heavier.
“Well, if we’re going to start this up, I would like to know who else you’re doing it with.”
“Doing it with? What are you? Five?” She huffed. “You, you are seriously giving me lectures about this?”
“I would just like to know if I need to get tested.”
“If anyone here needs to get tested it’s me. I can’t believe I made the mistake of sleeping with a walking std sampler.”
“Cut the crap, I know you kissed him so, what’s going on between you two.” Bucky snapped.
“You saw that?” She whispered.
He rolled his eyes and turned to her once he parked outside of the cabin. “That idiot basically rushed to kiss you once he saw me outside of your apartment.”
(Y/N)’s scowl turned into a smirk in a matter of seconds. She turned to face him and reached over to his side of the door to click the lock button, her eyes never leaving his. “And what did you think of that kiss?”
His eyes looked down at her lips, taking a deep breath and coming closer to her. “I think that by the look on your face, he’s a terrible kisser.”
She shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”
“And you’ve had better.” He stated.
“Not any one I particularly remember.” She bit her bottom lip.
He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and kissed her neck. “What about this.”
“You want me to rate them?” She challenged.
He tugged on the hair closest to the nape of her neck, making their eyes meet. “Tell me I’m the only one.”
She looked up at him. “Would that satisfy you?”
He grabbed her hand and brought it to where he wanted her the most. “You already know what satisfies me.”
He tugged on her hair again, leaving a trail of kisses from her collarbone to her jaw. “Say it.”
(Y/N) closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“Only you.” She whispered.
“That’s what I wanted to hear.” He moaned before taking her into the back seat.
Chapter Eight
#bucky barnes oneshot#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes#bucky imagine#bucky x female reader#bucky#bucky fanfic#bucky x y/n#bucky barns x reader#bucky barns x y/n#bucky barns fanfiction#bucky barns x you#james bucky buchanan barnes#james buchanan barnes#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you angst#bucky barnes x reader angst#bucky barnes one shot#bucky barnes os#college au#college au!bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky x reader#winter soldier x reader#winter soldier x you#sebastian stan x you#marvel fanfic
93 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Number Lad Is A Menace
And of course by Thee Number Lad, I mean my darling Sevenset :) This is one more chapter of silliness for everyone to enjoy! I'll be honest, the next chapter might come a little later than April 1st because of my chock-a-block full schedule right now, but it will happen in April!!! We gotta start the next arc!!! I'm so excited!! Thank you to everyone who's been reading these chapters, I really appreciate it.
Words: ~4100 Warnings: None Link to the Masterlist of Chapters Link to the story on Ao3 if that's easier for folks (it's still 1 chapter behind, but it'll be up to date by the next installment)
Sevenset looked up from his little sketchbook, finally noticing the bunks around him in the temporary barracks on Rancor’s Venator cruiser were filling up. He checked the time on his vambrace.
Huh.
Okay, well, he hadn’t meant to spend almost two hours designing his next tattoo, but these things happened. He added the last few lines and snapped the book shut around his pencil, wrapping the elastic band around the book and tucking it under his pillow.
Upon attempting to stand, his body informed him he had been sitting in a horrible position for almost two hours, and standing so quickly was not possible right now.
“Ow,” he muttered, stretching his legs out and leaning down to touch the toes of his boots.
“Yeah, it looked like you were doing your best impression of an ithorian down there.”
Sevenset looked up, finding his squadmate Buster lying in his bunk, prepped for sleep cycle, which was due to start for them in a few minutes.
“Was it any good?” he asked, finally standing up slowly to stretch his back.
Buster frowned. “Dunno, you don’t quite have the face for it.”
A lump in the bunk underneath Buster grumbled. “Would you shut up ‘n sleep?”
Buster smiled, leaning over the side to look down. His field partner Sketch valued his sleep like a dragon did its hoard, and right now, only the man’s mohawk and little strips of the pink-dyed buzzed hair either side were visible over the edge of the blanket pulled up over his face.
“Sorry, Sketch,” Sevenset said, a little quieter. “I���ll leave you to your beauty rest.”
Sketch grumbled again and Buster gave a small smile before settling back on his mattress. “Have fun on the night shift,” he said.
“Oh, I always do,” Sevenset replied, finding his kit and putting it on. He wasn’t being sarcastic, for once. He really did enjoy the night shift. He’d always been a bit… off as far as circadian rhythm (his squad on Kamino had hated it), so it made perfect sense to him to take the later shifts while he was at his best, and rest when the weirdo “morning people” were up and functional.
He was by the door when Buster called his name–quietly still, so he didn’t wake anyone.
“What?”
Buster held up a datapad. “I forgot to drop this off with the commanders,” he said, handing it down to him. “Do you think you can do that?”
Sevenset considered it. “Well, as long as I know which room I’m going to, shouldn’t be a problem.”
The other ARC rubbed his head, squinting in efforts to recall. “I think Colt is in one-eighteen C? It’s near the bridge, one level up from us.”
He stared at Buster, knowing very well he had no idea the gift he had just given him. He nodded solemnly. “Consider it done, vod,” he said as seriously as he could muster, adding a sharp salute as well.
Buster just rolled his eyes and lay down, shuffling his blanket around as he got comfortable. “Maker help us, you’re somethin’ else, Sevens,” he smiled.
Sevenset grinned back, turning off the lights as he left the room and headed to the briefing room for his shift assignments. Nothing too dramatic, considering they were hurtling through hyperspace, and the truly important people—the engineers, the navigators, the bridge officers—were all taking shifts as well, keeping them on track towards Kamino. But, his light duties did mean he had plenty of time to get them done in a timely fashion, then go see about room 118C and hope its occupant was out of the room…
As was often the case, Sevenset was given inspection duties. He had notable attention to detail and a quick eye for making sure everything was ship-shape in no time, so the COs had no issues handing it off to him time and time again, and he had no issues completing it time and time again. Tonight, it was weapons lock-up with Tracer, one of many ARF troopers that had accompanied this most recent mission.
It was good to have company, given the sheer number of weapons on the cruiser. They divided the work between them and went to it. There was something incredibly satisfying about checking all the boxes off as he went down the racks of blasters and ammunition lining the room. He was done before he’d even had time to properly enjoy the mindlessness of it all.
Tracer glanced over at him when he’d been standing still for too long. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Everything’s accounted for.”
Tracer blinked. He was almost done, maybe a few racks away from completion. “You’re done?”
“Yeah, I like this kinda gig,” he explained as simply as he could. “Figure it’s why I keep getting the same assignments,” he added with a grin. “Listen, I gotta go drop something with Commander Colt, do you mind if I head out?”
Tracer shook his head. “Nah, go for it.”
So he did. He dropped off the datapad with the inventory with one of the lieutenants, then made his way to a lift and went up the level and towards the bridge in hopes of finding his commander’s room empty and unguarded.
Hopefully.
Force, if he managed to pull this off… He grinned to himself wickedly.
Would it undoubtedly result in disciplinary actions? Yes.
Would pranking Colt be worth it?
Oh hells yeah.
He found room 118C right where Buster had told him. Now, it was normal for a commander’s door to be locked or otherwise secured from the outside, and Sevenset respected this and knew why it was the case. It hadn’t stopped him from creating a device capable of slicing a simple door panel as a one-time-only deal in case of emergency urges to start some shit.
Colt might kill him.
It was a worthy sacrifice.
He knocked on the door and waited, listening intently for a response. Just to be sure, he knocked again, louder, throwing glances down the corridor in either direction to take stock of how many people were around. Not many. When no one answered the door the second time, he tried pushing the button to open it, on the off chance the door was unlocked. It wasn’t.
Time for plan B.
He reached into one of the compartments in his utility belt and found a small electronic device which he stuck to the door control panel. He did his best to be quick, not wanting to attract undue attention while messing with the commander’s door. He pressed the device’s singular button and knocked a third time, waiting for the device to do its work.
In a few seconds, the door slid open, and he snatched the device from the panel and stepped inside.
This ship wasn’t often used, so most of the living and sleeping quarters onboard were sparsely decorated if at all. Troopers were much more likely to leave anything of real sentimental value on Kamino; it was considerably safer. Commander Colt was no exception, and might have had even less stuff in his room than some of his subordinates.
Sevenset set the datapad from Buster down on the desk. He wasn’t a complete asshole: he wasn’t going to get Buster in trouble by making his report hard to find. Surveying the desk, he found a couple stacks of similar datapads, a few crumpled pieces of flimsi, a few loose pencils and styluses, and a mug of stone-cold caff from the mess. Hm…
Looking over to the bed in the same room, he saw it was impeccably made to regulation, the corners tucked in just so, the blanket pulled up and over the pillow. Oh, now that was an idea….
Without waiting to think (because the commander could be back any second), he went to the bed and picked up the entire mattress, awkwardly maneuvering it until he could put it back down 180 degrees from its original position. He tucked the blanket and sheet back in, making the bed up fit to make any CO proud.
Any CO but Colt, actually.
Next, he went to the desk, knowing it would be bad on a few levels to rearrange the datapads and paper on the desk, so he settled for moving the entire piece of furniture two or three inches farther away from the wall. It was a little tricky, because the desk had to be secured to the floor for safety’s sake. But, it was easy enough to unhitch it and slide it down the tracks in the floor a little bit, then fasten it back down. He pushed the chair to the same relative position he’d found it in, and then quickly rearranged the writing utensils and the mug on the desk, leaving the datapads and filmsi untouched.
Stepping back, he took in his handiwork, his mind whirring as he sought out anything else he might be able to do in the precious few seconds he was allowing himself.
His eye fell on the doorway leading to the refresher. Lucky bastards with their own showers, commanders. Well…. He hurried over, his eyes flicking around the room in a heartbeat until they landed on the bar of soap in the shower, and the mirror over the sink.
Perfect.
-scene break-
Sevenset was still buzzing with happy anticipation as he grabbed his “midnight meal” from the mess and found a table to sit down. The night shift was light, as usual, and truthfully, among those present, he wasn’t sure how many would really appreciate his company. He was an acquired taste. So, he found a table along one wall and sat there people-watching while he ate, his eyes always drifting back to the doors, waiting for the inevitable storm his latest prank would bring down.
He finished his meal in peace, dropping the tray and utensils off to be cleaned before heading out again. Until his shift was officially over, he didn’t have much to do except to stay awake and make sure the others not on shift got their rest. Maybe he’d go find a viewport and draw…. Changing trajectory, he started off down the hall back to his barracks room to get his sketchbook and pencils, already planning to take his clunkiest armor pieces off outside the room so he wouldn’t make too much noise. Stealth training could only do so much with all this plastoid clattering around. No one else seemed to notice how loud it was, though. Maybe it was just in his head.
When he turned the corner into the corridor with his room in it, he just as quickly slammed his body back around the corner out of sight upon seeing Commander Colt at his barracks door.
He heard the door slide open, and stuck his head around the corner to see Colt march into the room, switch the lights on, and yell, “Buster! Get up! On your feet, double time, trooper, let’s go!”
Sevenset winced slightly. The commander wouldn’t have known Buster had told him to deliver his report. In reality, he would have walked in, seen the upset, seen a report that had not been there before the upset, and would have immediately sought out the author of said report.
So much for not getting him in trouble.
He crept around the corner and quickly and quietly made his way down the hall until he was just outside the room. He could hear grumbling and creaking bunks from inside, as well as Colt demanding Buster’s explanation as to why his room had been tampered with around the same time his report had appeared on his desk.
Buster, Maker bless him, was not a morning person, and was having considerable difficulty processing the situation.
“I didn’ do anything, sir! I did the report, it’s there–”
“The report is not the karking problem, ARC!”
Plastering an easy smile on his face, he slipped into the room as quietly as he could. Buster was standing at rigid attention looking completely baffled at the commander, who was standing with his fists on his hips, looming over him. Other disgruntled faces poked out from blankets in the other bunks. Sketch looked positively murderous.
“The problem is in fact everything other than the report!” the commander went on, his attention undivided.
Sevenset saw his sketchbook sticking out from under his pillow just to Buster’s left, so he feigned innocent ignorance and went to step around the commander, watching his arms in case his tirade grew more animated all of a sudden.
“You had the audacity–the utter stupidity–to think that was funny–” Commander Colt froze, his helmet turning slowly as he registered Sevenset’s sudden presence at his right shoulder.
“Evening, Commander,” Sevenset chirped, giving a small salute. “Just here for my sketchbook.” He crept closer to it. “Oh, Buster,” he added, “I got that report on his desk just like you asked, don’t worry about it.”
Buster’s rigid stance relaxed out of pure shock for an instant, before jolting back when the commander opened his mouth.
“You.” His hand shot out and grabbed the collar of Sevenset's chestplate. “You did this?”
“Uh… I have been known to do a lot of things, sir,” Sevenset replied. “Some specificity would be greatly appreci–”
“Did you rearrange my kriffing room, Sevenset?” the commander growled, pulling him even closer.
Sevenset made a great show of scrunching his face up as he seemed to think about his answer. “Eh… I’m not sure what I did truly constitutes rearranging, sir. Maybe a little redecoration, a little–auck!”
His response was cut off by the commander turning and dragging him bodily out of the room. He managed to hit the lights on the way out, apologizing to his squadmates as best as he could with the commander’s knuckles pressing into his throat.
When they were outside and half-way down the hall, Commander Colt finally released him. Sevenset had just reached up to adjust his armor back to where it sat most comfortably when he found the commander’s gloved hands grabbing either side of his face.
“What the ever-loving kriff is wrong with you?”
“That’s a loaded question, sir,” he grinned, a little thrown by the odd method of restraint. “You didn’t appreciate the little affirmation I left you?”
The commander’s helmet tilted to one side. “You wrote, ‘Hey there, handsome,’ on the mirror with my bar of soap.”
“It’s always good to start your day with a compliment, sir!”
Commander Colt let go of his face, then flicked his nose, and he yelped.
“Laps,” he said. “Five of them. Now.”
Five wasn’t so bad. He’d be done in no time. He saluted sharply. “Can do, sir!”
As he started to jog down the corridor, he heard the commander call, “This is supposed to be a punishment! Don’t look so kriffing happy about it!”
-scene break-
Rancor Battalion was back on Kamino in another rotation or so, most of the troopers returning immediately to the barracks or to requisition replacement gear for the damage suffered on the mission. Standard practice, at this point. Sevenset was used to the routine, and he liked that it never changed too much, a bit like the Guard back on Coruscant. He went with his squad back to their barracks to put his things away, give Beskar a pat on the dome for taking care of their space in their absence, and maybe grab a snack. Everyone else was settling in for the night, hoping to readjust their internal clocks as fast as possible, and Sevenset reasoned he could do the same, but he had more pressing matters to deal with.
He’d told Do-si-do he’d have to host the Numbers meeting this time around, because he’d had no idea if he would have been back in time, and he hadn’t been. Not quite. He could still catch the tail-end of the meeting, if he was lucky. He got to his usual hidey-hole in a rarely-used conference room and lit up the holotable, tuning it to the correct frequency with barely a thought.
Various holograms appeared at once as he connected to the transmission. It appeared the 212th and the Wolfies were on duty, because the meeting was missing Nines and Loops, but everyone else was there, including the commander.
“Sevenset!” Do-si-do beamed. “Dude, you’re just in time. Elevens was gonna tell us about Commander Thire messing with the Chancellor!”
Oh well, this he had to hear. “I am all ears, little bro,” he grinned, leaning on the table in front of him.
Elevensies smiled back. “Okay, so, I heard this from one of my squadmates, who heard it from Captain Iode when he was talking to Commander Stone,” he began. “So it might not be quite what happened.”
“Does it seem like we’ll care if it’s true?” Fives asked. He and Echo were smushed together at one end of a bunk, presumably so Echo could rest his leg on the mattress. “We just care if it’s funny.”
“Okay, yeah.” Elevensies went on. “So, Commander Thire was leading the Chancellor’s escort this morning–like his security detail, right?”
Sevenset nodded, remembering serving exactly one day on that detail before Fox promptly moved him elsewhere. He never did find out if that was because the Chancellor had asked, or if Fox had gotten pissed off…
“So, it’s a lot of standing still while people talk to the Chancellor, and following him around the Senate building and his office–not very exciting.”
He vividly remembered that.
“Commander Thire was standing right next to the Chancellor at some point,” Elevensies continued. “I dunno, maybe the hallway was small, but that doesn’t matter. What matters,” he said with a grin, “is the Chancellor’s robe had a thread loose on the hem.”
Sevenset’s mouth dropped open. “He didn’t.”
Commander Sixes shook his head, rubbing his face. “He absolutely did.”
“He totally did!” Elevensies laughed, throwing his hands up and leaning back against the wall behind him. “He stepped on the thread and unraveled the Chancellor’s robe half-way to his knees!”
Sevenset and most of the others there joined him in cackling at the mental image of the ever-cool and collected Chancellor Palpatine suddenly finding himself bare-legged from the calves down. Oh, he would have paid to have been on that escort. Actual credits. The man probably hadn’t even blinked! He probably had just been politely shocked and been swept off to a room to wait for a new robe to be delivered, but holy Force, that was hilarious.
When the group had largely collected themselves again, wiping damp eyes and suppressing the remaining giggles, Do-si-do raised a hand. “So what kind of shoes does the Chancellor wear?”
That set Sevenset off again–Maker only knew why. “Why do you wanna know?” he asked through the new fit of laughter.
“So I can judge him!” his friend shot back. “Please tell me he wears old person shoes.”
Elevensies was giggling again too, and he shook his head and shrugged. “I dunno, I didn’t hear that part.”
“What if he wears sandals?” Fives asked. “Like sandals with socks?”
Do-si-do snorted, slumping further in his pilot’s seat. “No! No one should do that! I will call the fashion police!”
“No, no, no,” Sevenset cut in, “hear him out. I think he’s onto something.”
“No!”
Echo smirked. “What if he wears sandals without socks and just had his wrinkly old toes sticking out for everyone to see?”
A chorus of groans erupted after that remark, Sevenset not hesitating to join them. No one needed that image haunting their nightmares. Not even Fox!
“What if it’s boots?” Trees hazarded.
Sevenset might have been more tired than he’d originally thought, but it was okay, because Do-si-do was apparently right there with him on a lack of verbal filter and a severe lack of situational awareness.
“Like stripper boots?” they both said in unison.
While everyone else (except the commander) started wheezing with laughter again, Trees just stared at them like they were the most concerning specimens he’d seen to date. Sevenset caught Do-si-do’s eye, and they both lost it again, laughing until tears came and Sevenset found it difficult to stand upright.
“No, not like stripper boots!” Trees replied indignantly once the noise had died down a little. “That was kriffing creepy, you two!”
It only made them laugh harder, and Sevenset found he could no longer keep himself upright. Finally, he managed to pull himself back up and steady himself against the table, wiping tears from his face and feeling his face start to ache from smiling. This group had been his best idea ever. Where else was he going to get a debate about the Chancellor’s footwear? With a commander in the room not stopping them? It was a miracle.
Speaking of…. “Hey, Commander,” he said, his voice a little raw from laughing.
“What?”
“How–how is it,” he said around a hiccup of laughter, “we’re all dying, and you haven’t broken a sweat, sir? You gotta admit, the Chancellor in stripper boots is funny.”
“Try harder next time,” the commander replied, with a faint but distinct upward curve to his mouth.
Oh it was like that, was it?
“Alright I will,” he said, pointing at the hologram. “I will find something to crack that prickly ol’ shell you’ve set up, mark my words.”
“I’m shaking in my boots.”
“Oh, come on!”
“Should I start a tally?” Zero offered. “Keep track of what he doesn’t laugh at, see if we can narrow it down?”
“Absolutely, Zero,” he said. “We’re gonna science the kark outta this.”
The commander raised an eyebrow at them, one of his scars buckling on his forehead. “You’ll fail.”
“Why?” Sevenset challenged. Was the commander worried they’d actually find something? Was he truly that confident they wouldn’t?
Before he got an answer, someone else appeared behind Commander Sixes.
Zero waved. “Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, Zero,” Commander Nero said like nothing had happened. That would be a fun joke for Colt…
“Something wrong?” Commander Sixes asked, looking up at him.
The other commander knelt down next to his chair, placing a datapad on the surface out of frame. “Yeah, nothing big. Got the new recon intel, we might have to shimmy up the positions a bit for the first assault.”
“Wait, really?” Zero asked, and was ignored.
“Okay.” The commander blinked at him.
Commander Nero stared back, completely serious. “I’d suggest banana.”
Sevenset looked around, glancing over the other faces present. Most of the other Numbers wore similar expressions of vague confusion, with the odd flicker of mirth because who the hell called battle strategies banana?
But then he saw it. It was faint, but he saw Commander Sixes’ mustache twitch like he was trying to fight back a smile. The muscles in his neck flexed almost imperceptibly. Commander Nero remained stony, staring him down, like he was daring him to break.
That couldn’t be it… Commander Death’s weakness couldn’t be…
After what felt like an eon of strained silence, Commander Sixes spoke. “You little bastard.” His voice cracked on the last word, an unmistakable grin fighting its way onto his face as he tried to hold himself together.
“You don’t wanna use banana?” Commander Nero said innocently, his eyes flicking towards the holoprojector beside them.
The dam broke. Commander Sixes leaned his elbow on the desk beside him, putting his face in his hand, his shoulders shaking as he laughed. It was quiet and rough, like the rest of his personality, but no one could deny that was laughter.
“Oh, Maker help you,” he breathed, looking to the other commander, who was grinning like a loth cat who’d found the fish. Sevenset found himself riveted to the hologram in front of him, drinking in the biggest smile he’d ever seen on the commander’s face since he’d met the man.
“Help me?” Commander Nero said.
“Yeah. ‘Cause I’m gonna get a banana and shove it so far down your throat, you’ll be seeing yellow for weeks.” The threat lost a bit of an edge due to the huge grin still stuck on Commander Sixes’ face and the repressed bursts of laughter that had almost cut him off, and the fact that the other commander burst out laughing as soon as he said it, disappearing from view as he collapsed to the floor. “Karking hell,” Commander Sixes muttered, reaching over and turning off his holoprojector, disappearing from the meeting.
There was silence for a moment, even from Zero.
Finally, after a generous moment to process what they had all witnessed, Sevenset addressed the main point.
“Banana jokes?” he said, putting his hands on his hips in mock severity. “That’s all it would have taken? Bananas?”
“Well, they are very a-peel-ing to some people,” Echo replied without hesitation.
Fives shoved him off the bunk gracelessly.
Ta-da!! Sevenset being a menace! I hope you enjoyed! @23-bears @theultimatesandwich @mercurydancer @rndmpeep @beskarmermaid @persimminwrites @darth-void @soclonely
#number lads#numbers gang#clone trooper ocs#star wars ocs#arc trooper sevenset#commander colt#rancor battalion#commander sixes#commander nero#tcw fanfic#the clone wars#star wars fanfic#arc trooper fives#arc trooper echo#i write things sometimes
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
Just the Two of Us~ [peepaw Leo rottmnt x OC reader]
song: Just the Two of Us by Bill Withers
Chapter 1 Today was a busy in the NYC mutant clinic. Thursdays are building trashday and countless trucks park nearby for convenience in restock. By the time the sun peaks from the dense horizon of building rooftops it's usually 9 or so already. Unfortunately the price that comes with being different is while everyone wakes up at 9AM, your day started 14 hours earlier the night before and the appointments haven't stopped tumbling in since. The night meant minimal chances for human contact and a natural cloak of invisibility protecting your clients, doesn't mean no human activity afterhours though. Frankly in such a cramped city, you doesnt know how she still hasn't been popped for catering to the mutant above the surface. Right after handling the last blood test of the day, you checks your wristwatch.
"4 already! Wow." You puts away the blood test analysis and hollers to see if your assistant was still there. "Todd, you ready to go? Todd?" The capybara does an near perfect job, a friend of the gang with the hospitality and management skills for the position. You peaked in wondering why he wasn't responding to your calls, to find him with someone on the phone behind the counter. You managed to catch his friendly closing phrase before he hung up and turned to you.
"Sorry Doc, I just told them to come by since we weren't too busy anymore. What time is it?" "it's 4, Todd." "WHAAAAT?! 4 already??" he held his mouth. "Oh silly me. I forgot Do you think i should probably tell them to cancel?" "Well…did they say how far they were from here? I'm guessing it's not a regular huh?" The cappy checked his notes on the appointment form, "They said he had a mutant in need for a body check and they were nowhere near their regular physician and got our number from a yokai flyer." Your eyes grew slightly in surprise, "yokai flyers? the ones we printed and distributed for less than 2 weeks 5 months ago? how on earth do we still have them around?"
"They gave the name Casey." "Did they tell you where they were calling from?" Todd thought for a moment, "from a telephone booth. ya know, the one 5 blocks down?" You hummed in thought, you had to be somewhat careful about who knew and visited this location. Only a handful of humans know of the place, most of the rest came from mutants and yokai through word of mouth. But she decided to give it a go, "that should be fine, they should be here in 15 minutes. or 5 if they sneak over. I'll take from here, Todd." The elder creature raised a thick brow. "Are you sure? It's pretty dark out here and you're here alone." You chuckled lightly and gave him a pat. "I'll be fine, i'm a tough girl. besides, i have paperwork to keep me company. just tell the gang i might be a bit late to the party." It doesn't start until 6AM but you figured ending earlier could give you some time to dressup. so much for prepping.
After some remarks about overworking and not skipping meals, Todd gathered his things and skipped out the door, and it was you filling the paperwork. They say 3 in the devil's hour, when unexplainable things are most likely to happen. Your clock reads 4 now but it's all the same, you just feel a sense of tranquility when there's no one else around. 4:08. The ticking fills your ears as easing white noise, a sound of a few that embodied constance and strictness yet often leaves one anxious. It's times like these you enjoyed, like reminiscence, when you adjusted your glasses and reached for the retro-radio-speaker (of course not a real radio. its a bluetooth speaker), playing a soothing latenight 80s radio track. 4:15 the unsure clinkering of the doorbell alerted you to someone coming in.
"They told me they'll be open on the phone, but it looks pretty dead quiet." A young voice spoke, possibly a teen, this must be Casey. Followed by another deeper, gruffer, older and strangely familiar. "It's the dead of night, Case. Normal people would be asleep and I told you don't worry, kiddo."
"No way, you taught me to put my foot down. And i'm telling you we need you to get checked!" The older voice whined, "Why couldn't we wait till we get back to Donnie?" "Because you never do!" The two visitors scower around, they weren't used to the tidyness of a doctor's office, Casey especially since he's never had the pleasure having a normal experience that includes waiting with a seat and a comic book. You can tell he was sceptical and curious at the same time, weirdly peeping under and over and sideways up and down to find any indication of traps rigged. The old timer turtle on the other, was as cool as a fiddle with the whole scenario. Unlike the youngster of a different time, this Leo is still the same one who once ate pizza and played video games all day. Though he grew up with home remedies, this was not particularily unfamiliar per se. "Case, i know there's no one here but please don't embarrass me, bud." "I'd say you're the one acting strange here. Were'nt you the one who said you could never be too careful?" Casey huffed. He eyed the bell on the counter with suspicion, blown up intensely as he slowly lowering his finger on to the little button-top. He was half expecting some explosion of sorts to have been triggered, a ding rung and he shrunk back dramatically. Of course nothing happen. Leo rolled his eyes, he forgets sometimes that the sidekick had a messed up childhood, him partly to blame for his wary disposition now. "Just a sec!" Leo swore Casey almost jump up the counter. Casey almost peed his pants. Leo almost swore out loud, his old heart nearly had a heart attack. He wasn't expecting anyone to still be here, definitely not at this late hour. "Sit down for a sec, would you? I just have to pull these away." Look at them still startled, obeying this random voice from the back and plopping their butts on the cusioned seats. A minute or two later, they hear the voice approaching the counter front. "Okay~" you had the notes in your hand. "Tell me which one of you is Cas-"
Your eyes met. Those eyes can't be mistakened. That blue bandana. Those distinct red banana stripes. That sharp plastron contour.
There was no mistaking those eyes, the look of wonder and strangely…loving and familiar in you. What was this intense feeling in him? He can't remember having ever met you, then what was this lump in his throat? Your eyes had him locked.
That smile you had after might've just broken or casted a spell. "Why hello~" your voice sounded low. Cooing like a dove. Calm. Sweet. Steadying…. "Sorry but, have we met before~?" Instinctively you switched over to your flirty side, eager hand under your chin and winking, knowing full well you were still locking eyes.
to be continued~
6 notes
·
View notes