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thegirlwholovesficcharacters · 1 month ago

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𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬 𝑳𝑬𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺 Evan "Buck" Buckley x shy!Femreader!

Summary: In where y/n write Love Letters and send to her crush in a anonymously way, and thanks to eddie magic, she ends up revealing her identity as Buck's secret admirer.

Words: 2.201 Warnings: Mentions of insecurities, misunderstandings, attempts to make funny dialogues, a lot of fluff, buck being a cutie and eddie being a annoying best friend. Cursive are for her thoughts.

Autor's Note: Hello!. English is not my first language, and I apologize if there are any grammatical errors, you may find translation errors since I have little knowledge of English and mostly use Google Translate.

PD: There will be a second part because it was too long, and I want to keep it as one shots. Also, I think i got a little sidetracked with the love letter theme, but I liked how it turned out. What do you think?.

Y/n wasn't sure how this crush started. But she was sure of one thing, and she like Evan Buckley, a lot.

His smile, his hair, the ways he trated the kids when they come for a excursion his ambition for the ciencie and the silly moments he made when the team is working. There was so many things she likes about him, but she was so shy and scary of talk to him, even if he was the one who talk to her on the recess, she always find a way to run and hide, not because she doens't wanted to talk to him.

She was trying not to say anything emabarrassing in front of him or the team.

So, to convey all his feelings and thoughts, she had started writing love letters secretly. A rather romantic and old-fashioned way for her taste, but it helped her clear her mind. She felt like Lara Jean of all the boys I fell in love with, but instead, she didn't have five cards for different boys.

No, she had written too many letters only for one boy.

Letters that she sent him anonymously, she did not dare to tell him what she felt in person, she was not sure if he felt the same as her, but she was sure of one thing, and that was that, every time Buck opened his admirer's letters a big smile invaded his face. And y/n couldn't help but feel how her heart warmed up and began to beat uncontrollably every time she saw his smile.

That damn beautiful smile.

"You know, you can take a photo of it so it lasts longer" Eddie appeared in front of her wearing a mocking smile, almost amused at seeing his partner and friend's cheeks turn red as she was caught admiring the Buckley boy.

"Shut up Diaz" She muttered embarrassed as she was caught by her friend.

Eddie chuckled, setting a cup of hot coffee on the table right in front of her, the girl murmuring a soft thank you before blowing on the liquid and drinking some of the coffee.

"So…" He spoke looking at her, she raised an eyebrow.

"So what?" She asked.

He rolled his eyes.

"When are you going to tell him? You know…" He commented, surreptitiously pointing at Buck, who was leaning against the kitchen counter reading the letter with a stupid smile on his face.

Y/n stopped herself from smiling at Buck's cute image, she looked back into her friend's eyes and quickly denied knowing what he was referring to.

"I'm not ready yet." She wrinkled her nose, leaving the cup on the table. "Besides, I don't think I'm his type. Girls like me almost never date guys like him." She spoke, pointing between her partner and herself.

Hearing her, Eddie couldn't help but grimace and shake his head. He sat next to her and looked at her with a small sparkle in his eyes.

"Darling, we've already talked about that. You know you're beautiful just the way you are, right? Everyone knows that." The girl couldn't help but feel her cheeks burn.

"It's easy for you to say it, because you are my teammates and friends. But it's different when it comes to the person I like" She murmured towards him, Eddie sighed knowing very well what she meant.

He had known Y/N since he arrived at the station, she was one of the many people who introduced herself and offered him friendship, she helped him adapt to his new life in the city, and when he felt safe he introduced her to Christopher and Gosh, that kid adored the adorable woman in front of him. Eddie knew that his friend had insecurities about her body since she was young, she confessed it to him one night after going out to a bar with the team and Eddie had to take care of her, he let her stay at his house and hugged her when she started to cry.

If there was something that firefighter Díaz hated, it was seeing his best friend cry because of the bad comments about her body, about her thick thighs, her wide back, the stretch marks and especially her stomach, y/n wasn't skinny or tall, she had a medium build and a height of 1'60.

Eddie always made sure to make her feel comfortable when they had to train or helped her practice boxing.

He offered her a shoulder to cry on and his ears to listen to her, but he knew that no matter how hard he tried to help her overcome her insecurities, he had to give her space, he was one of the first to know her story. He was the first one she went to when she needed help with her car, he was the first to see her cry, the first to support her in her little secret about the anonymous letters and the first to know about her crush on Evan Buckley.

And Eddie Díaz promised himself to protect her from everything bad, even if it was the Golden Retriever he had as a best friend, Buck.

Eddie let out a small sigh before speaking.

"Hey, I was thinking..."And just as he was going to speak, the station's sirens started wailing.

Both friends looked at each other and got up at the same time, leaving their cups on the table to go with the rest of their companions and get on the pumper.

The moment 118 arrived at the emergency scene, the group of firefighters began to do their work, and y/n was next to Eddie looking for anyone who was trapped inside the house destroyed by a fire.

Although right now she would prefer the company of hen or chimney, so as not to have to listen to her friend's chatter about her crush on evan buckley.

"I'm just saying, you could, I don't know. Ask him out? Like coworkers?" Y/n rolled her eyes when she heard him.

"Stop it, Eddie. I'm not going to tell him yet. And I don't think he'll accept it."She responded in an irritated tone, both friends continued walking and checking every corner". Also, what could I say to-"Without looking down, Y/N quickly stumbled, falling sideways to the ground.

"Shit"

Eddie, like a good friend he is, laughed first and then a few seconds later helped her up, earning an annoyed grunt from her when she heard him laugh.

"Be careful darling." Y/n thanked him with a gesture and stood up, shaking her uniform.

Rememberyng what she was about to say, a big smile invaded in eddie face.

Oh no, not that horrible smile, she say mentally knowing tht smile was dangerous.

"Go on, tell him what? What would you ask?" A mocking smile appeared on Eddie's lips and she rolled her eyes. "Tell meeee, oh, practice with me!" He begged in a low voice without removing his mocking tone.

She looked at him, confused by his request, until she saw the playful glint in his eyes and finally understood what he meant.

For heaven's sake, someone kill me, she thought internally. Knowing that he would not stop bothering her, she decided to do it.

"Okay, okay. Here I go." She swallowed, she looked at her friend and feeling brave, she placed one of her hands on his shoulder.

Observing that gesture, Eddie raised an eyebrow and prevented himself from letting out a laugh.

"Hey, handsome I've been in love with you for along time, and I wanted to ask you, do you want to go on a date with me?" She asked in a seductive tone while batting her eyelashes, and earning a laugh from the firefighter which he muffled when he felt her hand hit his chest.

Avoiding a laugh, Eddie composed himself and looked at her with a seductive little smile.

"Yes, I would love to go out with you, my beautiful and hot firefighter" He answered in the same tone as her, avoiding breaking down with laughter, she rolled her eyes but still smiled."Would you like to move to second base tonight, doll?”He mocks by throwing kisses into the air.

"Oh my god, shut up!, you asshole!" She exclaimed hiting eddie's chest. Eddie just looked at her and laugh, not feeling offended by her insult.

Ignoring eddie's laugh, she give a one last look around, she sighed when she saw that there was nothing left to rescue.

"There's nothing here ed" she muttered to her partner, she looked in her pocket for her walkie tokie, when she found it she press the button "Captain Nash. Here firefighter Y/L/N, there's nothing left, no one else, or anything to rescue. Just charred wood" Spoke to her captain.

"Okay, Firefighter Y/L/N. You can get back in the truck, the patients are already on their way to the hospital" Their captain announced from the other side, both firefighters nodded to themselves.

"Copy that, cap." With that, she cut off the transmission and followed Eddie out of that destroyed house.

As soon as they reached the group and began to return to the station, Eddie spent the entire trip giving his friend mocking glances every time he saw her look and pay attention to what Buck was saying, clearly, y/n ignored his friend and she gave hall full attention to his partner, who was talking animatedly about a fact about reptiles he found on a website.

Eddie, who was next to Chim, pushed his shoulder next to his, drawing his attention. Having Chimney's attention, Eddie surreptitiously pointed to Buck and Y/N.

They both looked at each other and smiled knowingly, Eddie might know about her secret of the anonymous letters, but for the team, it wasn't a secret that Y/N liked Buck. That is to say, how obvious could she be and how blind could he be to not notice.

"Hey buck" Eddie called, when he heard his friend he stopped talking and looked at him confused "I heard that your anonymous admirer sent you a letter, any clue as to who it could be?" He asked feigning interest, at the mention of the letter, Buck smiled goofily.

Seeing his goofy smile, y/n smiled the same way at seeing him smile, completely ignoring the amused looks her coworkers were giving her.

"Well, I haven't started my search yet. But I think I have one" he commented to his friend. Eddie looked at him curiously and nodded.

"Really? What did you find?" Chimney asked this time.

Having the eyes of his companions on him, Buck felt his cheeks heat up and let out a small laugh.

"Well, the letters have beautiful handwriting and every time I open them a scent of lily perfume comes out. So, I guess the clue is that this person uses lily perfume" He explained, remembering exactly the smell of the perfume.

Y/n watched Eddie smile at her teasingly.

"Oh, wow. That's a great clue, buck," Eddie commented, Buck smiled and nodded energetically. "I guess you need help looking for more clues, right?" He smiled innocently at his friend.

Buck seemed to think about it. "Well, I-"

"Great. Because I have the best at solving mysteries" He spoke, the group looked at him raising an eyebrow and y/n wanted to hang from the ceiling of her apartment with toilet paper.

Buck smiled excitedly. "Really? Who?" He asked curiously without removing his excitement.

Eddie tilted his head and flashed a huge smile at his friend.

Oh no. Why me? Why me? She lamented to herself as she noticed his plan.

“Y/n, dear?” He called, ignoring the knowing smiles of hen, chimney, and bobby, y/n looked innocently at her friend and smiled fakely.

"Yes, Eddie?" She asked, getting the girl's attention he smiled.

"You're one of the best at mystery board games, maybe you could help Buck with his little anonymous mystery?" He asked in a neutral tone, pretending not to know what he was getting into.

"I...uh, well I think..." she stammered, scratching the back of her neck nervously as she felt their gazes.

She moved her head in the Buckley boy's direction. Big mistake. y/n couldn't help but feel the little tug her heart gave as she saw his blue eyes shine with a little hope.

Damn, why does he give me that look?

Feeling too much pressure from her friend's teasing gaze and her crush's hopeful eyes, y/n let out a quiet sigh and nodded.

"Yes, of course. Why not?" I accepted with a nervous smile, Buck smiled excitedly.

"Cool! Thank you so much, y/n!" The blonde thanked his partner without removing his huge smile.

Y/n could feel how that smile made her melt inside.

Across the seat, Eddie smiled proudly to himself, completely ignoring his friend's murderous look.

Damn you edmuno.

And damn Evan Buckley's beautiful wet puppy eyes.

And above all, damn the huge crush I have on Evan Buckley

Y/n was screwed, and it was all thanks to Eddie "Fuckin" Diaz.

What a asshole.

#fanfic #911 abc #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 show #911 lone star #hen wilson #chimney han #bobby nash #athena grant #maddie buckley #christopher diaz #oneshot #evan buck buckely #buck x eddie #buddie #evan buckley x reader #eddie diaz x reader #buddie x reader

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mickandmusings · 3 months ago

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vi. 'tis the damn season

part of the 'hangman & honey' series!

summary: for the past six months, jake has spent every spare moment attempting to mend communication between he and honey. for months, he uses his phone calls to phone her, leave long voicemails, and writes her multiple letters a week. his efforts come with no avail, she never calls or writes him back. with christmas around the corner, jake makes his way back home to texas, but not before making an important stop along the way.

word count: 6.1k

warnings: 18+ mdni!! (dirty talk, but no explicit descriptions); definite military inaccuracies; definite college inaccuracies; general angst; christmas story in august?

'Dear Honey,

I know this is the third or fourth letter this week, and I'm not even sure if you're receiving these, but I can't just not write to you. I left you another voicemail, and I'm not sure if you're listening to those either, but I have talked to you nearly everyday since we were nine, and, well, that's not a habit you break easily. I called you on your birthday last week and left a message, and I sent you a card, I hope you got them both.

Honey, I'm sorry. I'll say it in every voicemail and every letter until you believe me. I shouldn't have taken so long to tell you the truth. I regret it. If I could take it all back, you know I would. I didn't do it to hurt you, I never want to hurt you. But I know I did, and no words I could say or write will change that. I'm sorry. I'll say it over and over again until you understand how much I mean that.

I know you likely don't want to hear about my time here, but I've always told you everything. If you don't want to hear me talk about it, I thought you might read about it. I can't ever remember a time you weren't reading.

Life here is different. Not bad, just...hard. The weather is certainly cooler than the winters back home. We even got snow, true snow, not the shitty kind we get in Haven. It sticks to the ground, and you can actually play in it, not just bust your ass on ice and sleet. Things are always very routine and strict, but, considering it's a week til Christmas break, things are looking up. Honestly, I've never been more ready to go back home to Texas. Granny said she spoke to you about coming home for Christmas, since you missed Thanksgiving? I really hope you'll come around. I miss you, Honey. I haven't heard your voice since that voicemail you sent me in October. Look, you can stay at the other house, I'll set it up for you before you even get here. Or, I'll stay there, and you can have our my room. You don't even have to talk to me, just please come. Just seeing you would be enough.

My bunkmate, Javy, the one I've mentioned to you for the past few months, he's from New Orleans. He's coming home for Christmas, and he's going to drop me off at the airport there. I'll fly back to Austin from there, and Pawpaw will be there to pick me up. Sometimes, at night or when we have spare time, Javy tells me about his life back home in Louisiana. More often than not, it makes me think of you. They make me think of the birthday beignets you make for Pawpaw, and how you'd make us gumbo in the winter. Frankly, everything makes me think of you. Honey, I see you everywhere. There are these bushes outside Bancroft Hall, and they're full of these little white and red flowers. I'm not sure what they're called, but they're pretty, and I know you'd love them. There's a kid in one of my morning classes, and he's got your accent too. It's nice to hear, I haven't heard your voice in so long. I hope the Magnolia State is treating you well. I imagine you're much happier with your favorite flower all around you.

I don't have much else to tell you about. I'd like to tell you my other stories when we're face to face again. I just wanted to let you know I miss you, and I love you, always. Call me back or write to me whenever you get the chance, if you're feeling up to it.

All my love,

Jake'

Honey holds the paper tightly in her hands, letting it crinkle under the pressure of her grasp. If he'd sent this letter when they'd first split, she'd have balled it up or ripped it to pieces with her blinding, white-hot rage. She had been so angry when she'd first moved away, ignoring his incessant phone calls and numerous voicemails. She had let his letters pile up on her desk, unopened and unread. In the chance that he'd sent this letter just a few months later, she would have stained the ink of his letters with her tears. After her anger came a fierce sadness, one that seeped into her bones and left her incapacitated, ridden with the agony that threatened to pull her under like a rogue wave. But now, as she stares down at Jake's scratchy handwriting across the lined paper, she simply feels numb. His letter does not spark an onslaught of tears or suffocating sobs that leave her chest heaving. She simply folds the letter back up and slides it back into its envelope, placing it gently on her desktop, deciding to deal with it later, much like the emotions it evoked.

She knows she shouldn't, but she grabs the familiar orange sweatshirt that lives on her bed and throws it over her head. It comes to her knees and the sleeves are far too long, but it provides her with a comfort she almost wishes it didn't. In her tiny dorm room in Starkville, her small college town (although bigger than Haven,) she feels isolated. Her entire life for the past six months had simply been going-through-the-motions of life: wake up, go to class, come home, study, finish assignments, work a shift at her on-campus job, shower, repeat. Life had become monotonous, something that her life with Jake never was.

She knows she shouldn't wallow. She should try and get out, make more friends-more than just the lady at the circulation desk in the library-and try to enjoy her life at nineteen. But, once again, that gnawing, creeping feeling infiltrates her chest, Honey wasn't like her classmates. She wouldn't enjoy sitting in a bar or attending a frat party. She'd sit in the corner alone, nursing a drink she likely wouldn't finish, and leave with an Irish goodbye. Now, all she had was a sweatshirt that smelled faintly of the boy she once slept next to each night, and it was her only source of comfort.

Honey knows she should get up and call Mrs. Janet, to let her know that she's okay, and that she was settled. The last time she'd spoken to her or Mr. Jacob had been nearly two weeks ago. She should call Haley and Sarah Grace back, both of her hometown friends had been calling since they'd met up for the last time in October. She knows she should stop shutting those who loved her out-Jake included-but that was a different situation entirely.

Instead of doing any of the aforementioned, she simply sinks into her comforter and puts her headphones on, effectively shutting out the rest of the world. She was glad her roommate had left for her own home state, leaving her alone in the dorm room for the next two weeks. Deep down, Honey knew she was lying to herself. She yearned for the feeling of home, her true home, on a farm in Texas. She craved Mrs. Janet's cowboy cookies that she made at least two dozen too many of, and Mr. Jacob's Christmas ham that took hours to get just right, but was so worth it when it practically melted in her mouth. She missed sitting around a room full of the Seresin family, watching the children open new toys and heaps of candy. She'd laugh as they opened new clothes with sour faces, quickly ditching them for the next box in shiny wrapping. Their childlike joy made her own flare, leaving her chest warm as she giggled quietly in Jake's arms. She missed Jake sneaking them eggnog from the kitchen, and the babbling laughter they erupted into when they realized no matter how much older they got, it was always just as disgusting as the first time he'd snuck it when they were thirteen. Mostly, she missed the warm, peaceful feeling she felt when she was in a room full of people she loved most. In a bout of honesty, she admits that maybe, just maybe, she just missed Jake.

Through her headphones, she can hear the rain patter against her window, and she sighs, the weather only adding to her melancholy mood. Honey knew if she chose to rot in bed, her emotions would only grow heavier, so with a deep sigh, she rolls out of bed and slides on her worn sneakers. She takes off Jake's Longhorns hoodie and swaps it for her own, tosses the hood over her head, and grabs the keys to Jake's truck. She grabs her finished library books to return, and her wallet, deciding to wallow in the secluded section of the library instead. She walks out of her dorm room, locks the door, and takes the stairs down to the lobby. She pushes the door open and heads out into the rain.

Honey would never make it to the library that day.

Two weeks prior...

"You scribblin' away for that girl again, Seresin?"

Javy's voice fills Jake's ears, and Jake doesn't bother looking up as he shoots his roommate a middle finger salute. Javy laughs at the action before climbing into his top bunk, leaning his head against his pillow. There's silence between the two before Javy's voice cuts through again.

"So when are you gonna tell me about her?"

From the second that Javy had met Jake, it seemed like something was weighing his bunkmate down. It wasn't until a week or so later, when they both were calling home, that Javy learned it wasn't something, it was someone. Jake kept information about his girl on lock, so Javy knew little information: her name was Honey, which Javy found odd, but brushed it off. She was studying English at a college in Mississippi, and Jake had, somehow, royally fucked things up with her before he'd come to the Academy.

Jake sighs, stopping his writing as he looks up at his friend on the top bunk.

"If I tell you, will you shut up for ten minutes so I can write?"

Javy nods, his brown eyes sparkling with a stream of questions he'd been burning to ask.

"Fine, what'dya want to know?"

Javy is quiet for a moment, looking up at the ceiling, as if pondering something.

"What's she like? Wait! No, let me guess! She was a cheerleader, pretty little thing, prom queen, the whole nine-yards to your little All-American thing."

Jake lets out a laugh, thinking of Honey as he shakes his head.

"You couldn't be more wrong. Except the pretty part, she-she's gorgeous."

"Really?" Javy sits up and leans over the metal railing of the bunk. "What? Is she like some metal chick with the eyeliner?"

Javy motions around his eye to emphasize his point.

Jake's eyes widened, continuing to shake his head.

"Definitely not."

"Then what's she like? C'mon man, you gotta give me something! You're always callin' her and writin' her, and I never see you get a response. She got you under Love Potion Number Nine or something? She do the whole magic thing? Can't trust that man."

"No, no, she's not like that. She's-," Jake pauses, trying to find the most accurate words to describe Honey. "She's quiet, shy, she's practically the opposite of me. She likes to read, a lot. I don't think there's ever been a time in our lives when she didn't have a book in her hand. She's kind, never lacking patience when it comes to all of my bullshit. And smart, ridiculously so, she's the smartest person I know. Honey is...witty, and funny, she's got this sarcastic sense of humor that you'd never expect from her. W-We've been friends since we were kids. We started datin' in high school, and we had this fight before I came here, and, obviously, she's still mad about it, so...yeah."

Javy notes the glimmer in Jake's eyes as he talks about his girlfriend, a small smile forming across his lips. Javy hadn't known Jake for more than six months, but this was probably the happiest he'd seen his bunkmate. Javy shrugs, giving his friend another incredulous look.

"So what are you gonna do about it, Seresin?"

Jake's jade eyes look up at him, his letter finished but suddenly forgotten.

"What do you mean? She obviously doesn't want to speak to me. The only time she's spoken to me in six months is when she left me a drunk voicemail on Halloween, saying how I made her cry. What am I supposed to do with that? If she saw me, she'd probably knock my lights out."

Javy shrugs. "But do you love her?"

Jake looks down at his well-kept shoes.

"More than she'll ever know."

"You said she's studying in Starkville? You think she's going back to Texas for Christmas?"

"It's unlikely," Jake responds, his voice somber at the admission. "Why?"

"Well," Javy props back onto his pillow, his hands tucked under his head. "I'm driving back home for Christmas, passin' right through Mississippi. It sounds like if you messed this up, you need to be the one to fix it. Show her you haven't given up, and you want her back. If you surprise her, maybe she'll give you a chance to explain yourself."

Jake's heart hammers in his chest, his friend's plan wasn't entirely bad. Jake looks up at his bunkmate, his face set in a knowing look.

"Honey hates surprises."

"And you hate living without her, which one will be worse: her temporary anger, or never speakin' to her again?"

Jake sighs, he hates that Javy was right. Maybe it was a stupid idea, cancelling his flight back home from Austin, tagging along on a road trip with Javy to get the love of his life back. But, a week later, Jake's duffel was slung into the backseat of Javy's car haphazardly as he rode shotgun, giving his friend directions toward a small Mississippi town.

Now, Honey makes her way across the rainy parking lot. Through her blurry eyesight, she quickly finds Jake's truck in the nearly empty parking lot. She fishes the key from the bundle of keys in her hand, sliding it into the key slot on the door and unlocking the door. Before she could remove the key and pop open the door, Honey hears a voice call out her name. She pauses, and for a split second, she thinks she hears Jake's voice. She shakes her head, pulling at the driver's side door. It was often shut too hard, and she had to pull with a good portion of her strength to get it to open. As she tugs on the handle, she hears it again, her name in Jake's voice. She tugs harder, thinking she was finally losing her mind.

"Honey, wait!"

The footsteps behind her alert her that the voice she had been hearing likely wasn't just a hallucination. She turns abruptly, and her heart stops in her chest. There, standing before her in a rain-soaked Navy sweatshirt and jeans, his significantly shorter blonde locks plastered against his forehead, was one Jake Seresin. Honey's eyes widened in shock, the breath in her chest growing short and ragged. She pulls her books closer to her chest, an action of both shock and keeping them as dry as possible. Her eyes dart back and forth between his own. She's quiet for a moment, rendered completely speechless.

"Jake?!" Her eyebrows furrowed. "What the hell are you doing here?! You-You're supposed to be on a plane to Austin right now!"

Jake stands in front of her, motionless, as his eyes take her in completely. It had been so long since he'd seen her, and he simply wanted to peer at her forever. She hadn't changed much, she was still shorter than him in stature, still an avid reader by the small pile of books she'd finally tossed onto the truck seat, but her eyes didn't quite shine like they once had. Jake's heart hammered in his chest, staring at the girl he loved standing in front of him in the pouring rain, arms crossed over her chest, shivering in the cold.

"Jake, hey?!" She waves her hand in front of his face, attempting to gain his attention. "What are you doing here?!"

Honey's voice is loud enough to hear over the rain pelting around them both. Her eyes are wide as he looks down at her, his hands itch to touch her, but he keeps them at his side. He takes another look into her eyes, and he simply loses every ounce of control he has. He takes a step forward towards her, his hands come to rest on either side of her face. Honey wants to knock his hands away, she wants to let her anger simmer forever, but the warmth of his calloused touch provides her with a comfort she hadn't felt in so long. If it had not been raining so fiercely, both halves of the pair would realize the tears running down one another's face. He's silent for a long moment, simply taking in her face for the first time in months.

"Honey, I-I fucked up," Jake starts, his voice trembling with a flurry of emotions. "Honey, I fucked up so, so bad."

He pauses, allowing the rain to soak through both their clothes, his thumb brushing carefully against her cheek. His bottom lip trembles, his hands beginning to shake against her face. Honey says nothing, only braving a look into his green eyes darkening with tears.

"I-I've apologized a thousand times over the past six months and it's not enough. It'll never be enough, because knowin' I hurt you?" He pauses and shakes his head with his lips pressed into a fine line, effectively keeping him from bursting into sobs. "Honey, that shit has ripped me to shreds everyday since you left. I-I never meant to hurt you, ever. I'll spend the rest of my life apologizin' to you if that's what you want." His eyes bore into her own, his breaths shaky.

"I'll spend the rest of my life on hands and knees, grovelin' if that's what you want. A-And if you tell me to fuck off and never speak to you again, I-I'll do it. Just-just know that all of me-body, heart, soul, everything I am-it belongs to you. If you've decided that you're movin' on, and you want to do everythin' we planned with someone else, I won't try to stop it. But, you have to know somethin', and I need you to understand that it doesn't matter if you move to Canada, o-or you stay here, or you move back to Haven, my heart forever sits in your hands. It's yours, forever, whether I have yours or not. That house on my grandparent's farm? I fixed it for you, it's yours. This truck? It's yours, take it. Honey, you can have whatever you want, I'll buy you whatever you want, I'll make it if I can't buy it. Tell me what you want, and I'll make it happen. Whatever it is, baby, it's yours."

His chest moves quickly with his rapid breaths, his hands shaking from his contained emotions. Honey simply looks at him, still a bit shocked that he's standing in front of her. If she wasn't overwhelmed by the landslide of apologies he'd just spouted, she'd have given him her own back. Instead, she stands a bit still, her chest just as heavy as his. He mistakes her silence as rejection, and his face falls as he gives a subtle nod of his head. His hands move from her face, and, in that split second, Honey is shocked into action. She wouldn't lose him again, she couldn't lose him again. In one quick swoop, she grabs the wrists of his sweatshirt, pulling his attention back to her. She speaks a tad louder than her normal tone, ensuring he would hear her over the pelting rain.

"You, all I want is you. That-That's all I've ever wanted, Jake!"

He catches a glimpse of her face, her cheeks pink as she shivers, but her eyes, they were the same love-filled gaze he'd remembered. He wanted to begin another string of apologies, to assure her that he meant everything he said, but he never got the chance. In an action almost completely out of nature for the shy girl he knew, her arms were around his neck, pulling his lips towards hers in a heated passion. He wasted no time in indulging in the action, his hands coming to her hips, lifting her a bit higher to deepen the kiss. The sweet kiss quickly turns to a clash of teeth and heated movements, and Jake quickly hoists her up, her legs wrapping around his waist as if it were muscle memory.

From his car across the lot, Javy shakes his head and smiles as the two embrace one another. He cranks his car back up, backs out of the parking spot and turns back onto the main road. He shakes his head as he thinks of his friend, mumbling to himself as he drives:

"Tis the damn season, Seresin, you lucky dog."

Back at the school, it only takes a split second for the couple's kiss to grow a bit too intense for the parking lot setting, and, without thinking, Jake pulls her through the lobby's double doors and into the elevator, where the two finally break apart for a split second.

"J-Jake, I-I never should've left like that, I-,"

She doesn't get to finish, Jake's lips are back on hers, this time with more fervor than before. Honey shudders, with both the cold from her wet clothes and the heat building in her torso. They break apart as the elevator dings, and Honey is pulling Jake by the hand back to her dorm. She all but shoves him inside, locking the door behind her. Jake wastes no time in crossing back to her, slowly pulling off the hood of her hoodie, his eyes widening when he glances at her mostly dry hair.

"Y-Your hair, it's...shorter."

She chuckles. "Yeah, I just needed a change...you're one to talk, J, I've never seen your hair that short."

He pulls her in closer by her hips, lifting the soaked hoodie over her head as he speaks.

"Yeah, well, plebe summer wasn't my best look, you're just lucky you missed me bald, baby."

Even in the dim light of the dorm room, Jake notes the darkening look of her gaze, her lids growing heavier with desire. Honey's hand comes to the short hair growing on the nape of his neck, her head cocking to the side as she threads her fingers through the new growth, a look on her face he can't quite place. He pulls her flush against him, attempting to read her look.

"Hm, yeah," she starts. "I'm real glad I missed that part. Y'know, why?"

The girl below him moves to kiss the underside of his jaw, making his hands tighten on the grip he has on her hips.

"Why's that, baby?"

Honey's lips move to his neck, his hands slipping past her hips and to the round of her bottom. Above all else, Jake Seresin had been raised to be a Southern gentleman, but his resolve was slipping.

"Because," Honey starts, her accent slipping through, causing the heat in Jake's lower half to grow unbearable as her lips continue their course down his skin. "I like havin' somethin' to hold onto when you're between my thighs."

Long gone was Honey's shy demeanor, and long gone was Jake's gentlemanly resolution. Without a word, he's tossing his own damp sweatshirt over his head and throwing it to the floor with her own. Honey has ditched her drenched shirt and sweatpants, now standing nearly bare between Jake's arms. Without a second of hesitation, Jake pulls her onto the ridiculously small bed, but he pays it no mind, more focused on the grinning girl beneath him. He kisses her lips passionately, his hands resting on her bare thighs. His own heart hammers, and, as he kisses down Honey's neck, he can feel her own beating just as loudly. He pulls away, tossing off his damp jeans to the floor. He looks down at her almost bare frame, his emerald eys heavy with lust, but his voice is cased in affection.

"If this is what you want, that's certainly fine with me, but I need to hear you say it, baby."

Honey looks up at Jake's kind but intense gaze, her heart slowing a bit.

"After that whole The Notebook-esque apology you pulled, yes, I want this."

She nods in confirmation, and Jake wastes no time in attaching his lips back to hers. Honey's hands fly back to his hair, her fingers digging into his locks. Jake's hands come to her torso, carefully sliding off the clothing constricting her chest and tossing it onto the floor. He pauses for a brief moment, staring down as he hovers over her. Honey looks up at him, her head cocking to the side.

"Jake? Hey, what's the matter?"

Jake's mind is in overdrive, and he simply feels the urge to stop and stare at her. She's bare before him, cheeks flushed, eyes blazing with affection. Jake swallows thickly as he pushes hair out of her face.

"Honey, you-you're beautiful. I am the luckiest man on fuckin' Earth, baby."

Honey blushes at his compliment, pulling him back in with a heated kiss.

"You're such a smooth talker, Seresin...but right now, I need you to use that mouth of yours for somethin' other than talkin'."

Jake grins from ear to ear, the usual smirk she's used to seeing painted across his face. His thumb brushes against the fabric adorning her hip, gently pushing it down. He tosses them to the floor along with the other clothes they'd shed, and nudges his way in between her legs. Heat fills the space between them completely as he speaks:

"Yes ma'am."

Hours later, in the late hours of the night, Honey is woken by the vibrating of something nearby. Jake-who has her pressed into his chest with the strength of a bear-doesn't budge. Honey, ever the light sleeper, groans, lightly tapping Jake's shoulders. His body moves, but he simply curls back into their shared pillow. She shoves him again, a little harder this time as she speaks.

"Jake," Her words receive no response, so she speaks again. "Jake!"

It's Jake's turn to groan, his arms pulling her closer to his bare chest.

"Hm? What is it, baby?"

Honey's lack-of-sleep induced annoyance fades at the nickname she so adores.

"Your phone is ringing."

Jake groans again, slipping out from under the blush pink sheets and searching for his phone that he assumed was still lodged into his jean pocket. Honey opts to glance at his newly toned arms and strong, broad shoulders, his time training in Maryland obviously having physical gain. He hits the button on the screen, not bothering to look at the caller ID, and speaks:

"Hello?"

"Jacob Thomas! Where the hell are you?!" His grandfather's voice fills his ears, and Jake pales. Shit. He had completely forgotten to tell his grandparents about his detour. "I've been sitting at the airport for three hours, son!"

"Pawpaw, I-I'm sorry, Javy just decided to take me all the way back to-" He's cut off abruptly.

"Look, that's fine, but you could've called. Your grandmother's callin' and she's pissed, son. Just get home, alright? Preferably sometime before Christmas Eve? She's already distraught about Honey not comin' around, so, the sooner the better. Heard?"

"Loud and clear."

"Alright, well, I love you, kid. Be careful."

"Love you too."

Jake hangs up the phone, crawling back into Honey's sheets and pulling her back into his arms. Honey's nose burrows into the crook of his neck, Jake's warm skin against her own far warmer than any blanket she owned. Jake's hand ghosted against her side, the other threading through her hair. His voice is low and soft as he speaks:

"How do you feel about Christmas in Texas?"

Honey's eyes open, looking up at her boyfriend with a shy smile, completely retreating back into her usual quiet self, a stark difference from the heated confidence that had run through her only hours before. Her eyes glimmered in the moonlight, a wide grin on her face as she buries herself back into his neck, his toned arms pulling her in tightly.

"I don't know if they'd even want me there, I should've called Mrs. Janet back, haven't responded in like two weeks."

Jake scoffs, pushing back a hair from her face.

"Don't even think like that. They're gonna be more excited to see you than me."

"Guess we'll find out." Honey pushes up from her spot next to Jake, sliding out of bed and slipping on new clothes before packing a small bag for the road. Jake watches from the bed, a smile across his face. He rests his hands behind his head, his blonde locks tossed about from their rendezvous. Honey turns to him once she's dressed.

"Are you gonna show up like that? Not that I mind this look, but your grandmother might have some issues with it." She laughs lightly, tossing him his now dry shirt. "You might want to get dressed, babe."

Honey stills and grows red when the nickname falls from her lips without any thought. She turns to Jake, his eyebrow furrowed humorously at the nickname, his right pointer finger beckons her closer. She stands next to him beside the bed, his hand pulling her in by the waist.

"Where did that come from?"

"I-I don't know," she admits bashfully. "B-But if you don't like it-"

"Baby, I more than liked it."

He pulls her closer, plopping her back into the sheets with him. She practically rests completely atop him. His hands move to pull up her shirt, his hands resting on her now bare waist. She makes note of his gaze darkening as he looks down at her, his arousal evident against her leg.

"Jake," her voice is a whisper. "We should really get on the road."

Jake smirks, his lips now kissing the sweet spot behind her ear.

"I'll get up as soon as you do."

Unable to resist one another, they were nearly another two hours before they got back on the road. After those hours and a ridiculously long drive back home to Haven, Honey now rested comfortably in the passenger side of Jake's her truck, Jake's thumb rubbing against her thigh. Both of them were incredibly tired from the prolonged trip, and more than ready to collapse into his childhood bed they'd shared for years. As Jake turned onto Seresin Farm Road, Honey felt her nerves kick in. Despite her excitement to return to the home that had nurtured her, she worried that she was going to be a burden for Janet and Jacob. She hadn't told either of them that she'd be coming home, and Jake hadn't either. She slid closer in the seat to Jake, her head resting on his arm. He looks down at her as they pass one of the many fields on the property.

"You alright, baby? You're lookin' a little out of it."

"M'fine, just nervous."

Jake's eyes cut down at her. "Nervous?"

"It's stupid, I know. I just, didn't tell anyone I was coming, and I don't want to be a burden to your grandparents."

"Honey, you're family. You don't have to let us know you're comin'."

Honey smiles, her nerves fading as the house comes into view. Jake parks the truck, the backwards baseball cap over his head covering his short, blonde locks completely. He cuts her a sly grin, a look of mischief drawn across his face.

"Want to really surprise them?"

Honey cocks her head, puzzled. Jake simply kisses her cheek and hops out of the truck, moving to open the door on her side. He comes to the front door, opening it and promptly hiding Honey behind his taller frame. He comes to the entrance of the kitchen, raising his finger to his lips as he leaves her only a few feet away in the foyer. She can hear his boots against the hardwood as he walks.

"Hey," he speaks simply, both Janet and Jacob Sr.'s eyes cutting to their grandson standing in their doorway.

"Jacob! You scared the devil outta me! Get over here!" Janet shuffles the towering young man into a hug after lightly chastising him.

"Sorry I'm late," Jake's voice is muffled against his grandmother's neck. "Had to make a detour and pick up a little surprise for you."

His grandmother pulls away, her eyebrows furrowed as she gives the blonde a questioning look. "Surprise?"

Jake sends her a blinding smile. He pokes his head around the corner, beckoning Honey forward with his pointer finger. Honey shakes her head as she approaches, and Jake slings his arm around her shoulder.

"Hi," Honey speaks quietly. Janet and Jacob Sr. both turn, smiles painting across their faces.

"Honey! Oh my, sweet girl, you did surprise us!" Janet's voice is bubbly as she shuffles over to her grandson's girlfriend, pulling her into a tight hug. "Oh! And look at that hair, it's just darlin' on you!"

Honey feels her heart hammer, and she has to swallow down her tears as the older woman embraces her. Jake's grandfather follows suit, and Honey can no longer stop the tears rolling down her face. Janet wipes them away with the back of her hand.

"You alright there, Hon?" Jacob Sr. fills her ears. Honey nods through her tears, crossing the kitchen back to Jake's arms. He pulls her close, kissing the crown of her head as her tears stain his shirt. Janet's eyes gleam as she sees the two being affectionate again. She had been so worried about them both being apart for so long.

"I'm fine, promise." Honey's voice wobbles slightly. "I'm just really, really happy to be home. I didn't want to be a burden, but, I-I've really missed you guys."

"Oh nonsense! I promise we're happy to have you home, sweetheart." Janet's own face wobbles with emotion. "Now, c'mon, I'm glad I waited to make desserts, now I've got double the help."

She shuffles her bowls of ingredients around on the counter and Honey pulls away from Jake, more than happy to lend a hand with making sweets. Jake slips out of the kitchen to allow them to share their moment, and finds himself lounging next to his grandfather in the living room.

The graying man peers up at him over his glasses, giving him a satisfied look.

"Smart move there, son."

Jake directs his eyes from the black and white film on the TV to his grandfather.

"What do you mean?"

"Bringin' Honey home, makin' things right with her. Me and your Granny learned real quick this place doesn't feel the same when you two aren't around."

Jake smiles, shocked by the amount of emotion behind his usually stoic grandfather's words. The older man only gives him a hint of a smile before focusing on his western movie again. Jake listens as he hears Honey's laughter from the kitchen, and for the first time in six months, he feels content. Exhausted from hours of driving and he and Honey's activities in her dorm, he falls asleep on the couch.

Later, after Honey and Janet have finished their baking for the night, Honey spots Jake sprawled across the sofa, his boots and hat abandoned at the end. She covers him up with the blanket that rests behind him, placing a kiss on his forehead. She hadn't intended to wake him, but his eyes popped open. He's not fully awake, still a little bleary eyed as his hands fumble for her torso.

"C'mon, J, you're tired. Let's go to bed."

"Hm, lead the way, baby."

That night, Jake sleeps with Honey under his chin, tucked comfortably into his hold as tightly as possible. He dreams of Honey vividly-although mundane and simple, his dreams are a comfort: them sitting placidly with one another as she reads and he looks on as her voice fills his ears. For the first time in nearly six months, both of them slept peacefully and deeply, in a way they never could without sleeping next to one another. Tomorrow, when the Texas sun blares through Jake's thin curtains, they'll both be thrown headfirst into holiday preparations. But tonight, under the same roof where their story had ended, it begins again: Honey, in Jake's arms, sleeping content and comfortable in the bedroom up the stairs.

taglist:

@djs8891

@unattainablesillygoose

@psuedochakra

@fraaaaankiiiiieee

@mrsevans90

@86laura11

@cmiguelbilinski

*if you asked me/want to be on the taglist and you weren't tagged, pls message me, i would love to add you!!

#jake hangman seresin #top gun imagine #top gun maverick #hangman imagine #hangman x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x reader #top gun hangman #hangman x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman fic #hangman & honey

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arc-misadventures · 1 year ago

Text

Fathers Day Letter

Beacon Academy lunchroom, and everyone is looking over the mail they have each recently received.

Ruby: Ohh! Dad sent me something!

Yang: Me too, wonder what he sent me.

Weiss: Oh? My sister sent me a package, I wonder what’s in it.

Pyrrha: My mom sent me a care package~!

Ren: I got a parcel in the mail: I hope it’s those tea leaves I ordered.

Nora: My magazine is in! YES!!!

Blake: Yes! The latest book in the, ‘Ninja’s of Lust’ series!

Ruby: COOKIES!!! He sent me cookies! Yayyyyy! (Nom,nom,nom,nom!)

Yang: Save some for later, Rubes. Now lets see… Awesome! He sent me the bike polish I use for, Bumblebee! I forgot it, when we left! I’m gonna have some fun spreading you on tonight~!

Weiss: Oh? ‘Dear sister, I lost a gentlemen’s wager, and they requested several signed copies of your latest album. Since I assume this would be no problem, would you kindly sign these copies, and send them back to me. Love, Winter.’ This is rather… unexpected.

Yang: Are you going to refuse her request?

Weiss: No, this should only take an hour to do. What did you get, Pyrrha.

Pyrrha: Cookies, chocolate, and some beauty products from home, nothing much really. Did you get your tea, Ren?

Ren: Yep; I’m looking forward to having these later.

Yang: What magazine did you order, Nora.

Nora: ‘Pancakes Illustrated’

Weiss: Excuse me?

Yang: That’s not what I think it is, is it?

Ren: Well…

Nora: Ohh yeah~! Let that butter run off you, you naughty girl~!

Yang: UHHHH?!

Pyrrha: Don’t ask.

Yang: Okay…?

Blake: And, you say I’m the depraved one…

Ruby: Isthat… (Gulp!) Is that a father’s day card, Jaune?

Yang: Wait, what?

Weiss: Excuse me?

Pyrrha: You’reafather?!

Nora: I’m an aunt?!

Jaune: Oh, yeah. It’s just a little joke card really. My sisters see me as the father figure they never had, so they send me this as family joke.

Pyrrha: Oh thank gods…

Yang: Oh, so what’s the joke, I bet it’s pretty funny!

Jaune: Well… It’s kinda funny… in the shear ridiculousness of it.

Blake: How ridiculous is this?

Jaune: Well, lets start at the beginning: My family consists of me, my older sisters, Saphron, and Thiriana. My mother, Juniper, my grandfather, Álkimos, and lastly my father, Evinder, or simply, Evin.

Pyrrha: I thought you said you were an only child?

Jaune: I’m the only son, I have lots of sisters though.

Pyrrha: Oh okay. Please continue.

Jaune: So when I was three years old, my father disappeared while out travelling. We had no idea what happened, my mother was so distraught that she begged my grandfather to go find him. So, my grandfather who is a, Huntsman, who also loves his daughter very much, went out to find him.

Ruby: Did he find him?

Jaune: No. He spent two years trying to find him, but he found no trace of him. However, a year later, when I had turned five, my grandfather was in another town a ways away from where I lived. Then town was attacked by some, Grimm. Luckily there was only one casualty. That one casualty was where things got interesting!

Weiss: What happened?

Jaune: Well, my grandfather went to the woman, her name is, Isleen, a snake faunas with beautiful blue, and gold tipped scales. And, she had three daughters: Luna, and a pair of twins named, Angela, and Janette, ages two, and one. And, she told him that her husband was missing, my grandfather asked what his name was, and she said his name was, Gregory. She then showed him a photo of him, and my father was left gobsmacked! He had a new hair cut, and a beard, but he knew very well what the face of his ‘deceased’ son-in-law looked like.

Yang: Wait, what?!

Weiss: He wasn’t dead?!

Blake: And, he abandon your mother?!

Ren: Along with you, and your sisters?!

Pyrrha: And, started a new family with another woman?!

Jaune: Yep. He wasn’t happy to say the least. Then, my grandfather showed, Isleen a photo of my mother, me, and my sisters, and my recently ‘deceased’ father, Evinder. She did not take it well that her husband was not who he said he was, and seeming abandoned her, like he had done with my mother really, really hurt her. So, my grandfather decided to take her, and her kids back home. To live with me, and the rest of my family.

Blake: Was your mom okay with that?

Jaune: Eventually. She didn’t like that her father brought some random woman, and her kids home with him. But, she understood why grandfather invited them to stay with us. I mean, learning that their husband was living under false identities, and had married two separate woman, and had kids with them, and abandoned both of them. They had plenty of things in common together to bound with one another.

Yang: I’ll bet they did.

Jaune: Shortly after that, my grandfather was called to deal with a missing person report in another town. So he went there, and this woman asked if he could find her missing husband…

Weiss: Don’t tell me. He looked like your father?

Jaune: Same hair cut, and beard, just with thick rimmed glasses.

Blake: Given years apart you’d think he’d come up with a better disguise.

Jaune: Yeah… about that… The wife, a silver fox faunas who’s name is, Evenora, had two daughters with, ‘Stavon,’ their names were, Luna, and Carol.

Weiss: Hold old were they?

Jaune: One, and two years old. I know that doesn’t sound like much, but you need to understand this… Isleen, and her family lived about two weeks away from, Evenora, and her family.

Yang: I don’t get it.

Blake: So he didn’t go far this time when he faked his death again.

Ren: Wait, they lived two weeks of travel apart? Oh gods…

Pyrrha: What is it, Ren?

Ren: He was married to both of them at the same time… He was double timing them wasn’t he?

Jaune: Bingo bango bongo! You are right on the money, Ren!

Ruby: Wait, what?!

Weiss: You’re kidding me right?!

Jaune: Nope: He was double timing the two of them by being the cheating bastard that he was. He was a travelling sales men, so he two two weeks to travel between the two villages, stay for a month with one wife, then when back, and lived with his other wife for a month. And, he did that for over two years

Yang: You’re fucking kidding me?!

Jaune: Oh gods I wish.

Nora: What happened next?

Jaune: Well, my grandfather showed her photos of the two other families he abandoned. Needless to say she was absolutely devastated by this news. Now, my grandfather would have stay with her, and consoled her through this, but he was only missing for about three days. He needed to find him before the trail turned cold. So he hunted him. Now you gotta understand my grandfather is a vindictive monster; he was absolutely pissed when he learned he abandoned my mother, and, Isleen, he was fucking furious when he learned learned he did it a third time to, Evenora. So, he was after him like a bloodhound.

Weiss: Please, pleassssse tell me he found the cheating bastard, and made him payyyyyyy!

Blake: You’re really getting into this.

Weiss: This fucker makes all the emotional abuse my dad put me, and my family through feel like school yard bullying.

Yang: Same. My mom may have abandoned me at birth, but this. This is fucked up!

Nora: I can relate with them…

Ruby: You can?

Nora: My mom abandoned me. So, know how it feels when a loved one abandons you…

Pyrrha: She what?!

Jaune: It’s okay, Nora, we’re here with you know, and we’re not going anywhere.

Nora: Thanks, Jaune.

Jaune: My pleasure. Anyway, my grandfather did find him, or more precisely what was left of him.

Blake: Did a, Grimm get him?

Weiss: Fuck yeah!

Yang: That sounded so wrong coming from you.

Jaune: Well, yes he was dead. But, I’m not sure if a, Grimm did him in.

Ren: What makes you say that?

Jaune: My grandfather is an extremely experienced huntsman. He’s seen plenty of peoples corpses that are the result of a, Grimm attack.

Weiss: So you think he killed him, and made it look like a, Grimm attack?

Jaune: That, or my grandmother got to him. She is really protective of her family, and can really, really, really hold a grudge. She’s still upset with her ex… Anywho, after he, ‘found’ his corpse he took, Evenora, and her kids with him back to our home.

Ruby: Where they live as a happy family all together!

Jaune: Eventually.

Weiss: Let me guess, they had some difficulties getting along together?

Jaune: Mom was upset as it was that he left her, and three kids all alone, but even more so that he did that to two other woman, and their five kids too. She was absolutely angry from all of this. Sadly she took out her anger, indirectly mind you, on them which was making them angry in turn at each other even more so.

Pyrrha: And, what about you, how did you handle all of this.

Jaune: Well, I never really understood what my dad did until I was older. But, I was happy. I wasn’t the youngest child, and I now had five younger sisters! i was the older brother I always wanted to be. My, Mom thanked me for being the older brother that I was, loving each of them unconditionally as I did. Because I did this, it showed my mother that she was being petty, and mean to the other woman for things they did not do. So, she managed to fix, and even improve her relationship with the other mothers. They used to sleep in three different rooms, then after me, and my older sisters found the three of them in the same bed, all cuddling against one another they started sleeping like that ever since. Now I’m a brother with two older sisters, and five younger sisters, a loving grandfather, and grandmother, with three loving mothers, and I couldn’t be happier.

Blake: That sounds beautiful.

Pyrrha: I’m glad this had a happy ending b

Yang: That sounds lovely, but how does this relate to you getting a fathers day card?

Jaune: Oh, because I was the ‘man of the house’ I tended to look over, and protect my younger siblings. So I became the ‘father figure’ they never had.

Ruby: Awww~! That so sweet!

Pyrrha: You are a really nice brother, Jaune.

Jaune: Thanks. But, sadly this resulted in all of my younger siblings in developing father/brother complexes with me, just like it did with, Nora…

Yang: Pfft! Hahahaha! You’re right, Jaune; in the shear ridiculousness of it all, that is quite funny.

Ruby: Your family is quite something, Jaune.

Blake: I could make so many stories with this as a basis…

Yang: Settle down, Bla…? Wait, Nora? Do you have a brother/father complex with, Jaune too?

Weiss: You’re kidding me, right?

Nora: Y-Yeah… I do…

Pyrrha: What?! How did that happen?!

Nora: I couldn’t help it! He runs his fingers through my hair to comfort me when I have nightmares, and he gives me goodnight kisses on my forehead before I go to sleep. It’s really nice.

Yang: Do you seriously do that?

Ren: Yeah, he does that almost every night, it’s really nice to see.

Pyrrha: How come I’ve never seen this before?

Ren: You’ve been asleep whenever he does it.

Pyrrha: But… I… Jaune! I want goodnight kisses too!

Jaune: Okay.

Pyrrha: Yes!

Jaune: So, anything else you guys wanna ask about my families.

Blake: Yeah, so, Jaune, if you’re in the mood, do you want to pretend to be my daddy, and give me a good spanking because I’ve been a bad girl?

RWYJNPR: …

Jaune: No.

Blake: Naww…

Weiss: How about me instead?

Jaune: Excuse me what?

#rwby #jaune arc #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #pyrrha nikos #nora valkyrie #weiss schnee #ruby rose #lie ren #jaune x weiss #weiss x jaune #blake x jaune #jaune x blake #jaune x pyrrha #pyrrha x jaune #rwby whiteknight #rwby knightshade #rwby arkos

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astrodances · 10 months ago

Text

"Now I've had the time of my life No, I never felt like this before Yes, I swear it's the truth And I owe it all to you"

This is a very, very special drawing for me. ✨

In September of last year, I watched Dancing With The Stars' "Step Into the Movies" special again, at the end of which they recreate "The Time of My Life" scene from Dirty Dancing. And that sent me on a nostalgia trip back to my high school theater days over a decade ago now, where the drama club accepted my idea to do a "Time of Our Lives" theme, and a performance for that song à la Glee. Mind you, I was mainly the stage manager/techie sort, but I did some scenes for the showcases, and participated in this song with my then-boyfriend, along with two other couples.

And while we were hanging out in the green room backstage, a friend took some pictures of us. Including the one that directly inspired this drawing of Webby + Lena.

This started out as a memory remix of that photo, after watching the DWTS special, because I thought these two lovebirds would be really cute subjects for it.

But once I got going, it turned into a love letter, for many things.

As part of the remix aspect of it, I now picture myself in Lena's spot in the photo, getting to have the short hair I wish I had had back then, and getting to wear a suit and tie! (Yes, in the original photo, I am wearing the dress and red bow Webby's sporting here, and I have long hair. 🙈 Though I will say here that the little heart necklace she's wearing is exactly like the one I had, too! :)) Drawing this was really cathartic for my nonbinary self. 💜

And as for Webby, in this remix, she represents someone that, in retrospect, I wish I had shared this moment with from back then. In many ways, she really was the Webby to my Lena. 💜💖💝

(Literally) beyond the subjects of this though, this is indeed very much a love letter to a lot of things, to passions. The background is pretty much a replica of the drama classroom wall we were in front of for the photo, at least as far as layout goes, with a few direct recreations of things that were on the wall and on the table there. Everything else was me being a passionate (theatre) nerd.

(Details (many details) of said nerdiness and alternate versions below the cut!)

I've included un-blurred and background-only versions (and a version with drop shadow lines on the girls, because why not? it's a cool effect!) below, but I just want to point out the details, because I'm so dang proud of this.

The posters/programs for The Phantom Blot of the Opera, Featherspray, Chickago, and My Fair Dewey are obvious duck-parody references to their real-world counterparts (with the latter being the exact poster they use in DuckTales, in Dewey's dream in "Nightmare on Killmotor Hill!" So thanks, Dewey! 😂). The Featherspray one was also included because Hairspray was one of the shows we did in high school! And lemme just say, creating theater posters is really fun!!

The MJ the Musical poster and the half-shown Notre Dame de Paris "Duckbill" right behind Lena's head are particularly special to me, since they (along with Phantom) are my favorite musicals, and getting to draw those two was especially fun!

The L'Orange Theater poster in the top-right is a bunch of duck easter eggs in one - the L'Orange Theater is mentioned and seen in the very first episode of DuckTales 1987, and of course, there's Aquarioon from DT17! Looks like it toured in Duckburg a long time ago. 😉

And the sheet music is the DuckTales theme! (Or at least the left side of it :P)

The "Congrats" card, calendar (the whale for upper half was my own touch), folder, page of random backstage stuff behind Lena's head (which includes little Star Trek and Darkwing Duck references), and golden "Theatre" card (with my old director's favorite quote) are directly from the photo (or at least based on what I could see through its blurriness 😝), as is the very edge of a cast photo in the upper-right. The purple note (totally not with any secret messages whaaaaat) below that, the certificate of excellence, and the little pride heart pins everywhere are little garnishes/dedications. 😊

The stage/theater diagram below the certificate is really cool, because that's a direct recreation (+ another hidden message) of a project a friend and I did for stagecraft back in our freshman year - I was even able to copy my own handwriting for the labels! 😄😂

The "Time of Our Lives" poster is a reference to the showcase I mentioned above that inspired all this, though the real-life poster looked very different, from what I remember.

The green bag below is sorta a nod to the secret pal exchanges we used to do during shows. 😉

And finally:

The Glittering Goldie show poster is me just having an absolute blast drawing her once again and coming up with something for her Blackjack days! And bonus - I'll be posting a gradient-only version of Goldie tomorrow! Really happy with how she turned out!

And the "All the World's a Stage" poster is me combining all of my theatre nerdiness with my passion for space and a good pun! 😁

ANYWAY...

I learned a lot with this drawing, about creating and about myself.

And I just had so, so much fun with it - it was all love, all passion, all happiness for this one. 💜💖💝

Wishing the same for all of you. ✨

Love, Astro 💜

#DuckTales #Webby Vanderquack #Lena Sabrewing #weblena #my art #long post #I just have a lot of feelings for this one 🥹#(the post itself kinda is a love letter? for future me as much as past me and present me. yeah let's go with that)#for real though still cackling over my design for the Phantom Blot of the Opera poster XD

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mapileonxputellas · 2 years ago

Text

Jealousy (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

I think this might have been my favourite one so far! I hope the ending was suitable, I hate writing things in the future, I just feel like I'm pre-empting things so I couldn't include the final. Request can be found here. 4.7k words. Quite a long one!

Leaving Lyon was a tough decision to make. You were captain there for just over three years and more importantly they were your family. But you’d won all there was to win at the club and when Barcelona came with an offer it felt like fate was calling you.

You were billed as the star signing, the one who could fill the void by their own captain’s absence. You never wanted to be labelled as this replacement for Alexia, though you both played in the same position you were very different players. When news of her injury reached you during the Euro’s you couldn’t help but feel gutted you wouldn’t get to play alongside her.

The previous season has been kind to you, finishing the club season with a Champions League medal and going on to win the Euro’s, but as soon as you stepped foot into the Barcelona training centre you couldn’t help but feel different, in some ways complete. Thankfully the players were all very professional and only a few joking comments were made about your goal against Barcelona in the Champions League final.

You weren’t expecting to get the captain’s armband but Alexia’s absence as well as a few niggling injuries left you with the armband and your leadership was undeniable by the coaching staff.

Alexia herself had been a mystery to you, you’d seen her around the facility and at a few games but you never had the chance to speak to her.

But today that would change as today you were informed would be her first day back in group training, she had a long way to go to be back playing but you knew how big a step this was. Just over four years ago you had been subject to those three little letters, three letters which changed your life. You were excited for Alexia, the recovery process was so long and you were determined to make her first session back a good one.

You arrived at the training ground hours before anyone else was meant to be there to add some little changes. You bought a little welcome back sign to hang on her locker, sourced her favourite wine and chocolates for her to take home after and got all the girls to sign a card on their way in.

You watched on as she came in to get changed before training, letting all her friends shower her with congratulations as you got changed with Claudia one side of you and Patri the other.

“Have you met Alexia yet?” Claudia asked as you tied your shoelaces.

“No, well not properly. I don’t think being opposing captains counts.”

“She’s lovely, you’ll both get along.” Patri reassured you. “You’re both very similar.”

“I hope so.”

There was never a better time than the present and you waited back at the end as people flooded out to get the chance to speak to her alone and introduce yourself. Only when you locked eyes on her, instead of waiting for you to finish she made her way out of the dressing room.

You always gave people the benefit of the doubt and presumed maybe she thought you weren’t heading out, instead leaving you running after her. “Hey.” You started once you were level with the Spaniard, a single glance sent your way before she carried on walking. “I don’t think we’ve met before, well properly. I’m Y/N.”

“I know.” Ok you weren’t exactly expecting that, her lack of words was cold but her the tone made it all the colder. But sometimes to your downfall you were a painful optimist and maybe she was just having a bad day.

“Erm, how are you feeling? The team really misses you out there, everyone always talks about you and-“

“Listen OK?” She whisper aggressively, her fingers reaching out to grip your wrist. “I don’t need you to give me a debrief about my own team. I know them more than you ever will and things will change now.”

“Alexia I-“

“Stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours.”

It shocked you how much her words hurt. You dealt with anger all the time on the pitch, getting equally angry when defending your team but this felt different. This felt like a personal attack.

You tried to hide the hurt in your face as you reached the rest of the group in the gym, all stood in a circle waiting for their captain.

“I want to say a few words.” Jona said as you stood between Alexia and Ana. “Ale we can’t wait to have you back in the team. You’ve worked so hard up until now, one final push and you’ll be back out there in no time. Let’s finish this season strongly, I want a medal around all our necks at the end of the season.”

“We’ve captured the enemy now, of course we will.” Ana teased wrapping her arm around your shoulder. “The final piece of the puzzle.”

You stole a glance at the woman beside you and almost cowered back at cold eyes watching you and Ana. You tried to give her a reassuring smile as the rest of the group started chanting her name but that didn’t stop the frown on her face. When Jona brought out the presents you had bought on behalf of the group with the signed card you couldn’t help but notice you was the only one she didn’t thank, the only one who didn’t receive a hug. Not even a glance when you heard her asking Sandra about it.

“Oh Y/N sorted it out, she likes organising things like that.” Sandra commented not noticing the anger growing on Alexia’ face.

“Oh really.”

“Yeah that’s why she’s a leader.” The look that comment made could have turned you into stone.

One thing was for sure, this was definitely the biggest hurdle you’d encountered in Barcelona.

…..

The following day was the first time you got to witness the full La Reina effect on the pitch. But from minute one it felt like she was going out of her way to make your day horrible.

When you walked into the canteen that morning and lined up alongside her you hoped maybe yesterday had just been a bad day for her however as you found the frown on her face you knew that was not the case.

But whatever was going on you weren’t going to rise to her level and gave her the smile people often described as charming. “Alexia how are you this morning?”

“Fine.”

Wow the chat was scintillating. “I’m glad there’s one apple left I can’t start my day without one.” You said noticing the one apple left as you firstly got your scrambled eggs on toast. “What about you? Any traditions?”

“No.”

It shouldn’t have really been a surprise to you when you got to the end of the breakfast bar and found the fruit bowl lacking any apples and it really shouldn’t have surprised you when you turned around and found one sat on the tray in front of Alexia, a smirk on her face as she sat down.

“Ale I thought you never had an apple in the morning?” Jana questioned. “You never start the day without an orange.”

“It’s always worth a change.” Of course it was, not at all because of the comment you’d made.

“No apple this morning?” Claudia questioned when you sat down, the smirk only growing on Alexia’s face as she looked up at you.

“No there were none left.”

“Here have mine.” Frido pushed hers down the table, being received with a thankful smile from you. “Can’t have our little superstar without her favourite breakfast.” If looks could kill…..

It didn’t stop there.

During just the warm-up of the training session it felt like she was everywhere. The occasional shoulder barge into your side during the drills, the little nicks under your feet during the rondos, you were half surprised she hadn’t two footed you during the five-a-side match.

“Do you think it will be weird playing against Vicky?” Bruna asked Alexia during the water break referencing the former Barcelona captain now playing for Roma who you’d just been drawn against for the Champions League.

“It will be weird but you should all be confident. There’s no-one left who we shouldn’t believe we can beat. We were unfairly beat in that final but this year is different, none of those players would get anywhere near us when we’re at our best.”

Usually you would assume a comment like that would be made forgetting your link to that team but you knew Alexia’s game and you knew she made that comment directed at you.

“And now with Salma, Lucy, Geyse, Nuria we’re a better team.”

She was being horrible, malicious and it was all directed at you but you had no reason why. You’d been wracking your brains all night trying to find some kind of reasoning for her seemingly hating you. The two of you had never had a run in before, well at least that was memorable enough to have some kind of grudge. The two of you had been up for awards together but she’d always won, including this year’s Ballon d’or but even then on the flight there she must have already had some ill feelings towards you.

“Come on captain.” Vicky came up beside you tugging your arm. “Let’s win this match.”

Football has and probably always will be the out you have for your emotions. Feeling happy: go and pick up a ball. Feeling sad: go and pick up a ball. Right now with the mixture of sadness and anger running through your veins you picked up that ball and gave the small, sided game your all.

You weren’t a malicious player but you got stuck into every tackling, winning most and always being clean and fair.

Maybe that meant it was fair game in her eyes, fair game to give it her all as well. Make sure she left a mark on you, never going so far as to injure you but you knew tomorrow morning you would be covered in bruises from her tight marking on you.

“That was some battle.” Jona wrapped his arms around the pair of you as you walked off the pitch. “I don’t think we can play the both of you at the same time, it just wouldn’t be fair on the opposition.”

“Yeah.” You feigned an agreement knowing how much you wanted to play with Alexia before this all happened, now you weren’t so sure.

“Go and practice your free-kicks.”

The two of you joined Mapi at the far goal posts, Caro and Salma also staying back as the others did some rondos.

It was stupid you’d played in front of millions before, you’d lifted the biggest trophy in club football and yet you’d never felt nerves like practicing free kicks in front of the Queen herself. Thankfully you thrived under pressure and all three balls found their way to the back of the net.

“Way to go princesa.” Mapi found her nickname for you soon after you’d arrived thanks to your healthy addiction to a good beauty treatment. When you weren’t playing football on a Sunday you would more than likely be found in the local spa facilities.

Mapi and Caro made their way over to the corner flag to practice corner kicks leaving the two of you watching Salma line the ball up. “Maybe if you didn’t spend so much time getting ready you could spend some time on your shooting. Any good goalkeeper would have saved all three of them.” Alexia whispered in your ear.

“They were top bins Alexia.”

“Keep telling yourself that. We don’t settle for mediocracy here, remember that.”

“It’s a good thing the manager doesn’t think that. There’s a reason I’ve been sharing the duties with Mapi.”

“You two good?” Salma asked raising her eyebrows at our hushed voices.

“We’re fine thanks.” You assured the young girl. “I was just asking about the plans for travelling tomorrow.”

“Good.”

If she was going to act like this you could take it, you were big enough to deal with someone not liking you. The problem came with the team dynamics, you weren’t about to let some vendetta affect the rest of the team.

“This won’t work if you can’t even look me in the eye.” You whispered as you made your way inside at the end of training. “Whether you like it or not we’re on the same team, when we’re on the pitch forget about it.”

“Fine.”

“Sure?”

“Yes.”

…..

Things didn’t get better, they just got manageable. You grew to ignore the glares, ignore the little comments made, ignore the fact that every morning just in case there was always an apple on her plate and yet it never got touched.

She kept her promise, no matter what she thought of you off the field, which you still hadn’t worked out, it always stopped the moment you stepped foot on the pitch. That didn’t mean you were best friends on the pitch but you could share a few tactical words and miraculously the two of you worked well together.

Maybe it shouldn’t have been as much of a surprise to you, you had spent a lot of time reading her game both for Lyon to play against her and for Barcelona to play with her. You knew all the moves she made, the way she liked to push forward and when she held back. So you adapted your game to suit that, you knew if Barcelona had to choose they would pick her and you knew you could play alongside her with a few subtle changes rather than just you or her. When she would push on you stayed back, when she moved into one area you placed yourself where you knew she liked to lay the ball back.

Today you would be pushing those limits even further as Alexia prepared to make her return in the league. Alexia had admitted herself that Chelsea in the Champion’s League wasn’t the right time to return in a match with so much at stake but today you had the chance to win the league and by half time you were already 1-0 up, Jana soon making it two in the second half.

Jona gave you the decision of when you felt it was comfortable enough to get Alexia back on the pitch and when you got that two-goal cushion you knew you would be able to control the game from here so you made the signal and waited for them to make the change. At this point you were beginning to tire having played 90 minutes just three days prior and now another 65 minutes.

When the board came up with your number on it as well as the number 11 you made your way over to the touchline, unstrapping the band from around your forearm and held it out so Alexia could put her arm through it. Without looking her in the eye you made a point of strapping it up for her and then brought her in for the usual interchange hug before making your way to the bench.

You took your seat on the edge of the bench next to Mapi, the player handing you a water bottle and allowing you to catch your breath.

“Was she alright?” You questioned knowing Alexia was in your seat only a few moments prior.

“She’s ready, bit nervous but she wants to be there for this moment.”

The final 20 minutes went by very quickly Assisat scoring the final goal to seal the league title win. On the final whistle you all made your way onto the pitch, one of your biggest ‘superstitions’ if you would call it that was to always go around and shake all the opponents’ hands before you celebrated any cup or trophy win and this came into that category. You shook all the hands of the Huelva players and their coaching staff before joining your teammates.

Ana was the first one to spot you and the Swiss giant opened her arms up for you to jump into as she twirled you around in the air. “We did it.” You shouted down her ear as you felt further arms wrap around you.

“You did it.” She put you down on the floor and put her hands on your shoulders to meet your eye. “Take a bit of credit, you’re an incredible player.”

“Thanks Ana.”

So far you were thankful no-one had noticed, or at least commented, on a rift between you and Alexia and you weren’t about to let them see it now. You joined the rest of the girls in the traditional celebration for a player returning by throwing them up in the air for three cheers before you all made your way over to the front for the trophy presentation.

“Alexia if you could follow me.” An official came down to guide Alexia up into the stands for the trophy collection. You could see the glances that came your way but in your mind Alexia was always the captain and she should have this moment so you watched on, a smile etched on your face as you saw the joy in her face at lifting the trophy.

“Y/N come on.” Before you had the chance to protest Marta grabbed your hand leading you to the front of the pack as Alexia came down with the trophy.

“This is for you two, you’re the captains.” You tried to get through to Marta as you knew Alexia wouldn’t like this.

“You’ve led this team for the past eight months. You deserve this moment as much as we do.”

You could see there was no room for manoeuvre in her tone and in her face, simply staying put where you were. When Alexia clocked you standing amongst Marta you could see the distain on her face hidden by one of the fakest smiles you’d seen in a long time. You allowed yourself this moment, tucking into one side of Alexia and wrapping your hand around the metal trophy to lift it together as one.

“You two deserve this.” Marta whispered wrapping you both in a hug and pressing a kiss to both of your foreheads. “This team wouldn’t work without the both of you.”

“I don’t think-“

“It’s true, everyone thinks it. We all love you both.”

“Thank you.”

……

After the league win it was fair to say both you and Alexia were observers of the main celebrations, both of you knowing that the Champions League was the main aim this season. You both drove the standards in training knowing what a stern task Wolfsburg would be. The games leading up to the final all had major rotation so Alexia and yourself were yet to play more than twenty minutes in the dying embers of the game together, the captaincy always with Alexia.

The day before the final it was decided both you and Alexia would be part of the pre-match press conference in Eindhoven taking your placed behind the podium with Jonaton.

Jonaton of course covered all the tactic and personnel questions before you were both in the spotlight.

“Y/N it’s hard to believe this is still your first season in Barcelona. How much would it mean for you to lift that trophy tomorrow?”

“Yeah the time has definitely flown by. I came from a team of winners and I’ve joined a team of winners and we won’t settle for anything less than perfection tomorrow. I want more than anything to feel that joy I felt last year.”

“How would you assess your first year? Did you expect to be as integral to the side as you have been both in playing and in your captaincy?”

“It’s been a bit of a crazy year. I have high standards for myself and I hope both the club and fans can see that. I came here because I believed I could add something to the team and I hope they can see what I bring to the plate. In terms of the captaincy that is simply a role I have been sharing with many members of the team even if I sometimes have the armband. Alexia may not have been on the pitch for a long time this season but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have the leadership in training and before matches.”

“We’ve yet to see much of you two together on the pitch. Does that excite you?”

“Of course, I’ve watched Alexia for a long time now and I hope we can work together on the pitch soon, will that be tomorrow? I guess only Jona knows that.”

“Alexia how much would it mean to you winning the trophy tomorrow after the year you’ve had?”

“Yes it would be very special. I’ve worked hard behind the scenes but more importantly this team has got us to this point and I hope I can be a part of the final push tomorrow.”

“You’ve probably watched a lot of this team over that past 12 months. How have you improved since last year?”

“That final taught us a lot about ourselves and of course the improvements we have to make both in terms of our play but also our mindset. Of course we improved in personnel, Y/N has been a massive part of that and answering a previous question I can’t wait to play with her.”

Wow, you weren’t quite sure if she was being fully truthful or if this was all a show but it had to be worth something, right?

Unbeknownst to the two of you, the rest of the team were watching the interview in the other room. A light murmur of chatter amongst everyone as they watched the two people they considered their captains complimenting each other.

“Have you ever noticed that weird tension between those two? I’ve never really seen them talk but they just work on the pitch, they’re different when they’re playing together.” Ingrid asked Mapi, the two of them sat on one of the beanbags. “Is it just sexual tension that neither of them will give into?”

“How can you miss it? I’ve tried asking Alexia about it but she just dismisses it. Maybe they’re hiding something, I’ve never even seen them interact more than a glare at each other.”

“Ten euros they’re together by next season.”

“Ten euros they’re together by the world cup.”

…..

Alexia didn’t say a word to you after the conference, the both of you separately making your way up to your rooms. Thankfully the club had given you all single rooms so you didn’t have anyone disturbing you as you tried to work out Alexia. She had been nothing but horrible to you since you first met each other and yet she said all that in the press conference. It just wasn’t adding up.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a quiet knock on your door if you weren’t completely silent you probably wouldn’t have heard it but you did. It was only eight o’clock but you were about to try and get an early night.

Presuming it was one of the younger ones who had forgot something you went to answer the door but instead of seeing Bruna or Jana at the door, your heart started racing when you came face to face with Alexia.

“Hi.” Her whispers were barely audible as your mind spiralled as to what she could be here for. “Can I come in?”

“Of course.” Her voice knocked you out of your daydream as you opened the door wider for Alexia. “Take a seat.”

Alexia sat herself down on the vanity chair as you took a seat on the bed, wondering what was going on with the woman as she started at her hands, picking her fingernails.

“Are you alright?” You questioned breaking the silence.

“I um, I-“ You’d never seen Alexia like this, nervously fumbling over her words and a hesitant look on her face. “I want to apologise before tomorrow.”

You hoped you knew what she was apologising for but you wanted the full clarification. “Apologise about what?”

“When I first found out I’d done my ACL I was worried about how this injury would change me, how I would never be the same after it and how different things would be when I’m gone. When I heard Barcelona were signing you I knew that would jeopardise my place on the squad, I heard everyone talk about what an amazing player you were and of course I knew that myself. Then you got the captaincy armband and it just felt like you were my replacement.”

“Ale-“

“So when I came back I had this almost anger to you that you’d got to be a part of this team, that you’d got to lead them out at Camp Nou and seen those wins. I was jealous, I admit that and I heard someone mention it once that the only way to settle this was for one of us to leave.”

“So you did all this so I would leave?”

“I thought the only way to push you to leave was to be horrible to you. I can’t believe how horrible I was to you when you didn’t deserve any of it. I’m so sorry Y/N, I’ve been waiting for this moment for a few weeks but I can’t go in tomorrow with any tension between us. We’ve got to work together.”

“Thank you, but Ale it was never you or I.” You assured her. “I came on this team to work with you not instead of you. When you came back into training I genuinely just wanted to play with you and then you seemed to be trying to make my life a living hell, it was like you were going out of your way to disrupt my day.”

“I tried to hate you but it’s just impossible, you’ve got this smile that everyone seems to love and you always give everything 100%. Plus the team love you, I’m sick of hearing Jana talk about your dancing or Mapi talking about your tattoos. I want to see that side of you.”

“Hug it out?”

“Come here.” You wrapped your arms around the Spaniard, her own arms coming up around your neck as you settled into the hug.

You could never hate Alexia no matter how much she almost pushed you to it, you could never do it, you knew what injuries could do to people and this was no different. You were sadly just the one who got the rough end of it.

“Do you reckon Jonaton will play us together tomorrow?” You asked separating from the hug, a smile on both of your faces.

“I hope so. I really hope so.”

If it weren’t the night before the final you would have been up till the early hours getting to know Alexia but instead you both went for the early night option, your dedication to the sport the biggest thing you admired about each other.

It wasn’t lost on you the few glances you got the next morning as you both walked into the canteen together laughing and joking about a story Alexia was telling you about Nala. The both of you ignoring them as you sat down, a little comment made about the lack of an apple on Alexia’s plate instead just an orange next to her avocado on toast. “I need you on top form for tonight.” Alexia had commented back.

“You’re seeing that right?” Ingrid whispered to Mapi. “Yesterday they wouldn’t speak two words together and now they’re laughing and joking like this.”

“Loud and clear. Maybe now we can see the true La Reina and Princesa on the pitch together.”

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso imagines #woso #espwnt x reader #espwnt imagine #espwnt #barcelona femeni imagine #barcelona femeni

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alatushours · 11 months ago

Text

☆ HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS, featuring xiao — he knew he would always have a home to come back to, as long as he was with you.

contents. fem reader, you and xiao are married <3 written from xiao’s pov, fluff + teensy bit angst tw. mentions of war, implied reincarnation of the reader, xiao having self deprecating thoughts but it's a happy ending ! ! ♡ word count. 1.2k.

notes. merry christmas, guys! here’s a little special something i wrote up for the occasion! i hope it reminds you all that it doesn’t matter where you spend your holidays, but rather who you spend it with is much more special <3

i miss you.

the words play over and over in xiao’s mind as he successfully defeated another monster, planting his spear into the snow-frosted ground with a sigh.

he hadn’t seen you in months. he had read the letters that you sent him every week; your rambles about your day and the hearts you drew all over the paper always brought a smile to his face, but it was never the same as being with you.

now xiao could finally go back to you, but he didn't quite feel relieved. perhaps it was his karmic debt weighing down on him, but his mind was clouded with worry.

if only the war had ended sooner, then he would’ve been able to go back and spend your birthday with you. he had mailed a card with a preserved qingxin flower crown as a gift, but he knew it wasn't enough.

after all, he had spent every other one of your birthdays with you. through all the lives that you’ve spent together, he had never, ever missed your birthday.

until this one.

it had hurt xiao so much not be able to be there on your special day, and for a while he had doubted in his ability as your lover. how could he ever make you happy, if he wasn't even home to celebrate your birthday with you?

xiao shook his head, trying to shake the thoughts from his mind. no, that’s not true. it’s my duty to protect liyue when it’s in danger. she knows that.

still, he wanted to make up for not being there with you.

you had told him once about a mortal holiday that was celebrated not just in liyue, but in the entirety of teyvat. christmas, he believed it was called. it was a celebration about giving gifts and spending time with family; something that he had not done in a long while, but hoped to do with you this time.

he didn’t know exactly when this christmas was celebrated, he knew that it was during winter; and the snow currently falling upon the liyue plains certainly meant that winter was here. perhaps… i hope it’s not too late.

xiao looked around, spotting the crystalflies that inhabited the area. an idea popped into his head. it might not be enough, but it’s something.

he got to work, collecting the crystals as well as some flowers and violetgrass stems that he’d found on the riverbank, blooming despite the cold.

he thought back to a more peaceful time, when you had taught him how to make flower crowns. you had laughed when he’d somehow managed to get a bunch of leaves stuck in his hair, and every time you pulled one out you’d give him a kiss.

xiao smiled at the memory. being away for so long truly made him miss spending time with you, his beloved. i just hope that she’ll still accept me.

before long, he had produced a circlet of crystals and flowers. i hope she likes it, he thought, standing up from where he sat in the snow. he looked up at the sky, the sun still high up. i should be able to make it back home before sunset.

then he looked down at the flower crown in his hands. where do i put this…?

he didn’t want to hold it, for fear that his blood-stained, war-heavy hands would ruin the precious gift. it wasn’t like he had a bag or any pockets to store it in, either. with a sigh, he had no choice but to place the circlet on his head.

y/n would laugh at me if she saw me wearing this willingly.

xiao made his way through the liyuan terrain, stopping occasionally to slay some monsters. as he walked, his mind started to go astray again. what if she doesn’t like my gift? what if she’s angry at me for not visiting her? what if… she doesn’t want to put up with me and my struggles anymore?

the sight of a familiar village up ahead made xiao snap out of his thoughts. don’t think about those things. i’m almost home, and y/n wouldn’t want me to come back full of negativity.

the sun was slowly starting to dip into the horizon. he swallowed, burying the doubts as deep as he could into the back of his mind. breathe.

the sound of children’s laughter filled his ears as he climbed the stairs towards the entrance of the village. an elderly woman sat on a bench near the gate, watching two young girls play around in the snow.

“excuse me, ma’am,” xiao started, lightly tapping the woman on her shoulder. “could you please tell me today’s date?”

the woman turned around, a warm smile on her face. “hello there, young man. you must be returning from the war, hm? well then, you’re just in time for the holiday celebrations. today is december 25th, christmas day.”

“i see…” it’s today? am i too late? “ahem. thank you, ma’am. if i may, would you happen to know if y/n l/n is at home today?”

“why, she is. i saw her leaving the market just a few minutes ago. she told me she was waiting for for her husband to arrive tonight, so she bought some ingredients for a meal.”

suddenly the woman smiled brighter. “well well, what a pleasant surprise. you must be the one she was waiting for, my dear. i suppose those flowers in your hair are for her?”

xiao was confused for a moment, then realized that he still had the flower crown atop his head. he removed it quickly, blushing. “i-i… yes, they are. thank you for informing me, ma’am. i’ll be on my way now.”

the lady patted him on the shoulder. “very well. good night, young man. happy holidays to you and your wife, now!”

xiao nodded and turned, making his way up the hill towards your house. his calm demeanor was contrary to his racing thoughts. y/n was waiting for me? how is she still so patient with me, even after so long of being away?

the sight of your quaint, peaceful cottage brought him to a stop. it was beautifully decorated, sparkling lights all on the roof and around the bushes. did she do all this by herself? she should have told me, then i could have helped her…

xiao approached the porch steps slowly, fidgeting with the flower crown in his hands. now that he was actually here, he had no idea what he was going to do. should he ring the doorbell? or should he just open the door? and what should he say when he sees you?

he stopped at the front door, in which a handmade holiday wreath hung. he took a deep breath. calm down. it’s okay.

heart racing, he knocked on the door.

nothing happened.

xiao’s shoulders slumped. is she not home? or… does she not want to see me anymore?

he sighed. i knew it…

but the sudden familiar cry of “welcome home, xiao!” as the door flew open and your arms around his waist was all it took for the doubts in his head to disappear.

home is where the heart is, he thought. home is where you are.

“yes, my love. i’m home.”

end notes. guys i promise after january 8th i won’t write as many xiao fics LMAO i just wanted to post this because he makes me so happy every day <3 i apologize if this isn’t as christmasy as you thought, but i do hope that you enjoyed! this might be the last writing post before 2024 so happy new year to everyone ! ! :)

© alatushours 2023. please do not copy, modify, or translate my work in any way, nor upload to any other platforms. in the meantime, if you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and consider leaving a follow! it helps a lot ♡

#໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა mari writes !#xiao x reader #xiao genshin impact #xiao fluff

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viking-raider · 1 year ago

Text

The Devil Made Me Do It *Mature* 👻

Summary: Upon receiving a mysterious and anonymous invitation to a Halloween party, a chauffeur takes you to an LA mansion estate for the party; where you meet your mystery man for an All Hallow's Eve you'll never forget.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader + Mystery Character/Reader

Word Count: 9.8k

Warning: M - Secrets, Mystery, Alcohol Use, Scares, Costumes, Flirting, Teasing, Language, Mysterious Behavior, Longing, Fluff, Angst, Co-Workers to Lovers - SMUT - Unprotected sex, Fingering: (F - Receiving), Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Oral: (F - Receiving), Masturbation, Orgasm Control, Praise, Dirty Talk, Possible Corruption and Dub-Con, Light Dom, Aftercare

Inspiration: It’s Halloween and Kinktober! Posting now for Friday, the 13th!

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLISTand turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!

“So, who is your date?” Your best friend asked, glancing at you through the mirror you were using to put the finishing touches on your Harley Quinn costume.

“I don't know.” You answered, turning your head side to side, making sure you'd gotten everything perfect. “I just got a card delivered, stating it was from someone I know and asking if I would join them for an enchanting night.”

“And you're sure it's not from a stalker?” She asked, planting her hands on her hips.

“I'm sure it's not, Maggie.” You giggled at her, shaking your head. “Few people know my nickname, and it was noted on the card. So, I know it's from someone inside our circle of friends. Stop fretting over it.” You told her, getting up and facing her. “If it's someone I don't like in our circle or I'm uncomfortable with, I'll call you.”

“You better!” Maggie huffed, wagging a finger at you.

“Yes, ma'am.” You smirked, giving her a quick hug. “I have to go, they asked me to meet them at nine. Have fun handing out candy and protecting the house from tricksters!” You called out to her, grabbing your jacket and black, cross body, boho bag as you headed out the door.

You were about to unlock your car, when another pulled up at the bottom of the driveway, a matte black Cadillac Lyriq, and a man in a classy, black suit stepped out of the driver's seat, casting his eyes around as if to make sure he had the right address, before settling them on you.

“Are you the young lady that lives here?” He asked, motioning to the two-story house you lived in with Maggie, positioned on a cliff that gave the two of you access to your own private sandy beach on the LA coast.

“One of them.” You answered, narrowing your eyes at him suspiciously. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, going into the inside pocket of his jacket to pull out a small, black card and approached you with it held out. “I was told to give you this, then take you downtown.”

Taking the card from him, you read the gilded, blood-red lettering on it: 'My love, please allow me to treat you on this night together. My driver, Marco, will ensure you arrive safely, so we may enjoy our spooky festivities.'

“A lot of cloak and dagger going on with your employer.” You smirked at Marco, touched and amused, as you tucked the card into your bag.

Marco smirked and nodded his head. “Yes, he's having a good time with it. But he's quite eager to meet up with you.” He chuckled, offering his arm to you as you started down the slightly sloped driveway and ushered you to the back passenger-side door, opening it and handing you inside.

You settled in the backseat, pulling your mobile from your bag and texted Maggie. He sent me a chauffeur.

Maggie: Fancy!

During the drive, you snapped some photos of yourself, posting them on your Instagram, wishing everyone; family, friends and fans alike, a happy Halloween before pocketing it and glancing out the window. The quiet hills you lived in, dotted with beautiful homes, started to fall away for the speed and lights of downtown Los Angeles. Traffic thickened, forcing Marco to slow the Cadillac down until it stopped several cars behind a red light.

“Are you allowed to tell me where we're going?” You asked, leaning forward between the front seats. “Or is that to remain a secret?” You smirked as Marco glanced sideways at you.

“I am sworn to secrecy, my lady.” He smirked, winked and got the car rolling again.

Marco drove you across LA to the posh side of the City of Angels, where all of the famous people called home or a vacation getaway. He maneuvered the winding road, until pulling up to a towering, black ornate gate, pausing to enter the pass code, rolling the gate back and permitting you.

“Wow.” You uttered, eyes popping and mouth dropping, seeing the enormous mansion with a circle driveway and bubbling fountain, as you leaned even further between the seats, craning your neck to look out the front window.

It was elaborately decorated; nothing was left for the imagination with its decorations, and it was clear the owner of the home had no issue spending the money on their expenses. Pumpkin lights lined the driveway, the windows at the front of the house were backlit and flickering back and forth between orange and green, with vast and long threads of spiderwebs and cobwebs over them. There were hanging ghosts and skeletons in the trees, an extensive graveyard to one side, with body parts poking out of the mock graves. Everywhere you looked, something caught your eye, impressing you more and more.

“He really went all out.” You chuckled, as Marco stopped at the front door, the stairs leading up to the double doors flanked by massive gargoyles with glowing red eyes.

“Oh, this isn't his home.” Marco answered, releasing his seatbelt. “This is the home of a colleague. He was given an invitation to attend their party here and it had a plus one on it. So, he asked you to join him.” He explained, getting out of the car and opening your door.

“Ah.” You blinked, confused as you took his hand and slipped out of the car, met with a thump of distant music and festivities. “So, how am I supposed to meet my date?” You asked, lifting a brow at him.

“Go inside,” Marco said, motioning to the doors. “The butler at the door will ask you for the code word. It's 'Beetlejuice'. Once you've been admitted, ask them to show you to Lucifer's room.”

“Lucifer?” You purred, amused.

“Yes, ma'am.” He chuckled, nodding. “With that, I wish you a good evening and a happy Halloween.” He said, kissing your hand and getting back into the car.

“Cloak and Dagger much?” You snorted and made your way up the steps. “Oh Christ!” You yelped, as the gargoyles on either side of you came to life, roaring and turning their heads towards you, dropping their bottom jaws open. “Rude.” You panted, composing yourself as the front doors swung open, letting out a flow of music and murmur of voices from inside, and revealing a man dressed as a zombie-butler.

“Madam.” He regarded you, with a thick Scottish accent. “Are you here for the party?”

“I am.” You answered him, making it to the top of the stairs. “I believe the password is, Beetlejuice.”

He bowed his painted face. “Correct.” He turned and lifted a hand to usher you inside. “Please, come in. I'm Mr. Davison, should you require anything during your stay here, please find me.” He told you, closing the doors as the two of you stepped into a grand foyer, two twisting staircases on either side, leading up to a landing on the second floor. On the ground floor were three hallways, one straight ahead between the staircases, where you could see flashing lights with the bump and sway of bodies, and two hallways on either side of you.

“There is one thing you can help with, Mr. Davison.” You said over the noise, turning to face him. “I'm actually a plus one to an invited guest of this party. I was told by the driver my date sent to bring me, to ask to be shown to Lucifer's room.” You explained to him, biting your painted lip, while studying his gray, black and bloody face, butterflies filling your stomach. “Whomever Lucifer is, since he's been secretive about his identity since asking me out.”

Davison smirked, his dark eyes dancing with amusement, clearly knowing who your date and Lucifer was. “Of course, right this way.” He said, before guiding you up the left staircase.

You could feel the vibration of music through the floor as you followed him down the decorated hallway. Each door on either side decorated a different theme, such as Jack and Sally from Nightmare Before Christmas, Jason's mask and bloody machete from Friday the 13th, a Gothic door with an image of Bela Lugosi from Dracula and the doll, Jigsaw, from SAW. Davison stopped before a door, it was red with the silhouette of a pair of angel wings and a flaming halo with black horns.

“Lucifer.” You mumbled to yourself, watching Davison knock loud enough to be heard above the noise of the party, you were distracted by the zombie-butler stepping aside, as the door opened and revealed your date.

“You made it!” They declared to them, excited and relieved that you had come.

“Of course!” You answered, finally looking up at him, only to have your mouth drop open.

Standing before you in a stylish pair of black slacks, a matching vest over a light-gray dress shirt, the first few buttons undone and the long sleeves rolled up his forearms. At first, it wasn't much of an impressive costume, until you studied his face, he wore a touch of black eye-liner, that was slightly smudged, and poised on his forehead was a pair of glue-on horns, well blended in to match his skin color with at touch of red, as if it was a pain for him to have horns breaking through his otherwise angelic appearance.

“Henry!” You squeaked, surprised to see the Brit standing there, imitating Lucifer Morningstar from the DC comic and hit tv show.

“Hey.” He grinned, moving forward and hugging you. “You look great!” He said, stepping back again to look over your Harley Quinn costume, loving the gold, argyle overalls, pink sports bra, pink and blue hair and make-up. “You nailed Harley.” He commented, meeting your eyes again, finally noticing your surprise that he was the one that asked you out. “Oh.” He blushed, carding a hand through his hair.

“Right, I suppose I should explain myself. Why don't you come in?” He suggested stepping aside so you could enter the room. “Do you want something to drink? Davison can get you something.” He said, looking between you and the butler. “Anything you want.”

“We have several Halloween themed cocktails, wines, whiskey and such.” Davison told you, reappearing before the door.

“I'll have one of your cocktails.” You answered, with a small nod. “I'll leave that to your recommendation.”

“I would appreciate a refill as well, Davison.” Henry added in, with a polite nod.

“I'll bring them, presently.” He nodded back, and started downstairs.

“So, you're my date.” You said, entering the room with Henry, finding it was a sitting room that led into a bedroom.

“I am.” Henry smirked, closing the door. “I hope you're not...disappointed.” He said, looking at you with blue eyes that truly wished you weren't.

“I'm not at all disappointed.” You assured him, offering him a sweet smile. “Just surprised.” You confessed to him, pressing your lips together. “We had a couple interactions during the filming of Mission Impossible, but I wouldn't have guessed enough for you to notice me and to ask me out on a mysterious date to a high end LA party.”

“Oh, I noticed you the moment we were in the same room together.” He told you the truth of his feelings for you all over his face. “I tried drumming up the courage to ask you out so many times in those three months. I just kept chickening out, because I didn't think you'd say yes or be interested. So, when my friend sent me an invitation to his party here, you were my first thought on who to bring. But, again, I didn't think you'd say yes. Especially after we hadn't seen each other in a couple months. However, he suggested I send you a note asking you to come and send my driver to pick you up, to see what would happen.”

“You think I would say no to you?” You frowned at him, your brow pinching. “God, I would have said yes in a heartbeat.” You blurted out, shamelessly. “I admit, I wasn't going to come. I was suspicious about the motives and a little worried that it was set up by my stalker.”

Henry's face went blank for a moment, before it filled with worry and how stupid he felt. “I am so sorry. I didn't know you had a stalker, or I would have never been so secretive. I would have just asked you out right. I hope I didn't put you through any anxiety.”

You chuckled at him, shaking your head. “No, you didn't.” You assured him, waving it off. “You just set off my protective roommate, Maggie, who I should probably text and tell who my mystery man is, at some point.” You said, finding the whole thing amusing now.

There was a knock on the door and Davison came in with a small platter holding your and Henry's drinks, a skeleton hand wine-glass with a red shimmer liquid and a black substance around the rim. Beside that was Henry's squat glass of whiskey on the rocks, the ice shaped like a bone.

“Your Vampire's Kiss.” Davison said, as you took your glass. “Spiced rum, Cran-Grape juice, Grenadine and black sanding sugar.” He listed off the ingredients as you took a careful sip.

“Mmm.” You moaned, nodding your head. “Positively enchanting, thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He smiled, tucking the platter under his arm. “Enjoy your evening and the festivities.” He bid you and Henry, then saw himself out.

“Well, would you like to look around?” Henry asked, swilling his drink. “There's dancing and a bar downstairs and I've been told the backyard of the house has quite the surprise.”

“I'm not much for dancing.” You confessed, a shy smile crossing your face.

Henry looked a tad relieved at your words. “That's more than fine. I'm not either.” He chuckled, glancing down into the amber liquid in his glass. “The backyard then?”

“The backyard.” You nodded, smirking with an excited giddiness.

Nodding, Henry polished off his drink and set it on a small coffee table that was in the sitting room. You finished yours and put it beside his, then dropped your bag on the floor under the table. Henry opened the door, letting you enter the thrumming hallway first and followed, taking a key out of his pocket and locked the door behind you both.

“Worried about something?” You inquired, as he pocketed the key again.

“No.” He answered, shaking his head with a blank expression. “Better safe than sorry, I suppose.” He admitted, pressing his hand over the key. “Anyway, let's find out what's in the backyard.” He smiled, offering his hand out to you.

“If it's as good as the rest of the decorations I've seen, it'll be great.” You smiled back, taking his hand.

The two of you descended the spiral staircase you'd come up earlier, Henry paused and looked towards the hallway that led into the room where all the dancing was occurring, then looked at you.

“It's a little warm in here.” He said, even though it was cool in the foyer. “Why don't we go out the front and walk around the side?” He suggested, with an arched brow.

“Sounds fine to me.” You nodded, content with not going through the press of bodies on the dance floor to make it to the backyard.

Giving you a wink, Henry shifted your hand to his forearm and walked you to the entry, nodding to Davison. “We'd like to take a little stroll.” He informed the man, who nodded back and pulled open the double doors for you. “Thank you kindly.”

“So, are you in LA only for the party?” You asked as the two of you went down the steps, while mentally preparing yourself not to get frightened by the gargoyles again.

“No.” Henry chuckled, glancing away from you with a bashful smirk. “I just finished filming a movie in England. The first Enola Holmes movie, where I play Sherlock Holmes.” He explained, looking left and right for a moment, before guiding you towards the left. “I came out here after I finished, to take a little vacation, and suppose they heard I was in town and invited me.”

“A vacation, is that all?” You smirked at him, having a sneaking suspicion the Brit may have had an extra motive for coming out.

“Well,” He droned, rolling his eyes with a guilty smirk. “There may have been a certain lady I hoped to catch up with, while I was in the city.” He confessed, shooting you a glance from the corner of his eye. “Thankfully for me, I had the opportunity to.”

“Mmm, yes.” You nodded, cocking a brow at him and pressing your lips together. “Lucky for you.”

He patted your hand and grinned with boy-ish pride. “He really went all out for decor.” He commented, rounding the corner with you, to get met with tall, manicured hedges covered in webs and skeletons trying to break through and coming at you. The entryway cut into the hedges was covered with chains, obscuring your view of what was on the other side.

“That he did.” You agreed, twisting to look at the graveyard behind you. “I really like that makeshift graveyard over there. Very fright night.” You commented, rather eager to see what Henry's friend had down in their backyard. “Let's go in!” You giggled, moving towards the chain-cover entrance, your hand slipping down Henry's forearm, until you caught his hand and could pull him through after you.

Chuckling, Henry let you drag him into the side yard, finding scarecrows on either side, a bloody butcher's knife through the body of one as it rested on a cross of thin wooden poles and the another hung from the branch of a tree, swaying in the gentle, evening breeze. There were a few more graves, lining the path, leading towards the back of the house.

“Declan Hunley.” You read one of the grave markers. “Born 1879, dead 1910, killed for not looking behind him.” You frowned and looked up at Henry. “That's a weird mess-” You shrieked as the grave on the other side of the path burst open to reveal a gnarled zombie crawling out, growling and hissing, as you scrambled behind Henry in your terror.

Henry's heart rocked in his chest in surprise, instinctively putting an arm out between you and the flesh-eating monster. But a smile soon crossed his lips, guiding you around the zombie, who made decent grabs at your ankles, however made no attempt to crawl out of his grave to follow after you.

“Oh my gosh.” You panted, brushing your multi-colored hair out of your face, with shaking hands.

“It's all right.” Henry cooed, resting his hand on the small of your back, rubbing gentle circles. “I think he's still snacking on poor Declan.” He quipped, smirking at you.

You managed to laugh a little bit, your heart rate slowing down and collecting yourself. “Well, we know what the tombstone meant.” You sighed, shaking your head, feeling foolish for falling for it. “Suckered me.” You chuckled, then cast your eyes out over the backyard. “Oh wow.” You mumbled, eyes widening as your mouth dropped agape.

Henry turned and his brows went up. “Damn. I'll hand it to him, he didn't spare a shilling for all of this.” He commented, taking in the immaculate backyard.

The three sets of double doors leading out from where the dancing and bar was set up were open and brought out the sound of voices and music with them. There was a trickle of people on the patio, which was lit by standing torches of orange, green and red. Sitting on the furniture or huddled around the couple of blazing fire pits, were a few hired staff helping them roast marshmallows for S'mores or brew hot chocolate. Beyond the patio, were tall hedges and party-goers funneling into the opening, stopped only by someone at the entrance, before vanishing into the dark and glowing fog.

“I wonder what they're doing?” You muttered to yourself, brow creasing with curiosity.

“We can find out, if you want?” Henry said beside you, his head cocking to the side to see your face.

“Let's go!” You smiled, clapping your hands and dashing forward.

Henry laughed, amused and touched at your enthusiasm, before following after you. You were stopped at the entrance of the mysterious attraction by a man dressed up in a torn and bloody lab coat. A tall fridge with a clear door stood beside him, filled with green, red and blue test tubes.

“Beware!” The bedraggled doctor wheezed, reaching out to prevent you and Henry from going any further. “There's a deadly pathogen inside the maze!” He panted, looking back and forth between the two of you frantically; as if you had the cure and answer.

“Oh no!” You gasped back at him, bringing a hand to your chest, dramatically, making Henry snort behind you. “It sounds terrible!” You whimpered, trying to hold back a giggle.

“It is!” He agreed, not breaking character, while pulling open the fridge door. “There's only one way to make it through, without succumbing to the pathogen. It's by taking this antidote.” He waved a hand over the display, before taking two out and handing you a red tube and Henry, the blue.

The label on your tube told you the antidote was made from white rum and cherry liqueur, while Henry's was made of Curaçao and SVEDKA, blue raspberry flavored vodka. Uncapping and tossing the red antidote back, the chilled liquid burned down your throat into your stomach, and finally out through your veins. Mixing with the wine you had in Henry's room. Drinking down his own antidote and tossing the empty tube in the provided bin, the doctor finally let you pass. Entering the foggy maze, constructed out of the manicured hedges, stone planters with beautiful and exotic flowers. There were LED lights tucked into the dense and dark-green leaves, flickering in an off-rhythm, giving the already dark and close passages a disorienting feel.

“This is so cool!” You giggled, bouncing on your toes and turning back to look at Henry, who walked close behind you.

“Yeah, it is.” He agreed, glancing behind him, hearing a screech that was all too human, from somewhere else in the maze. “He really went all out for Halloween.” He looked back to you and smiled, finding the two of you had come to a three way.

“Which way should we go?” You asked, looking around, before looking at Henry.

“Hmm.” He hummed, glancing about, then smirked at you. “This way.” He said, jerking his head to the left, taking your hand and led you down the footpath.

“Do you know where you're going?” You asked, frowning at his back.

“I might.” Henry answered, casting a teasing glance over his shoulder.

“Shady Devil.” You teased, smirking at him.

After a couple twists and turns, the two of you came to a dead end that was adorned with a massive marble statue of a half-naked archer, shooting her arrow into the skies and a bench at her feet. There was a square lantern hanging from the tip of the Archer's arrow and two on the bench, casting an eerie, flickering, orange glow in the dark mist that surrounded you. But you were apprehensive about the skeleton sitting on the bench with them.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. But fool me three times, screw that! You thought, eyeing it. But the flickering light and swirl of fog played tricks on you, making it difficult to tell if the skeleton was twitching or not.

“I don't trust it.” You said aloud, and Henry's chuckle filled the enchanted space.

“I wouldn't blame you, love.” He admitted, cautious himself about the authenticity of the skeleton, however taking a gallant step forward to find out. “I think the poor chap died of whatever pathogen is in the maze though.” He quipped, making himself laugh and you rolled your eyes, amused. Reaching the skeleton without it jumping out at him, Henry put his hand on top of its cranium and gave it a gentle shake, causing the rest of the body to rattle on the bench, revealing it to be a prop.

“We're safe from another scare.” Henry declared, picking it up and setting it aside, making room for the two of you to sit down together. “I am really glad you came.” He said, as you sat down beside him. “I know I already said it, but I am.”

“I'm really happy that I came as well.” You smiled at him, feeling the heat already in your cheeks from your alcohol consumption increase, but the cool night helped keep it under control.

Henry grinned, giddy to hear it. “Kal really missed you, after you finished filming your scenes in Norway.” He confessed, chuckling as he fussed with the skull fob on the end of a pocket watch chain he had attached to the front of his vest.

“Oh, Kal missed me, did he?” You purred, amused.

“Yeah, Kal.” He nodded, glancing up at you, his blue eyes dark and holding a gaze that sent a shiver down your back. “Are you cold?” He asked, a playful and coy smirk curling up one corner of his mouth as he moved a little closer to you, offering the warmth of his body.

“I'm either cold or the pathogen is setting in.” You sighed softly, biting your lower lip and tucking yourself into his side, a quiet moan escaping your throat as the weight of Henry's strong arm slotted around your shoulders.

It was all of sudden that you were aware of how close Henry's mouth was to yours, his eyes still trained on your face, waiting—watching—for your reaction. Were you going to push him away or were you going to let him go all the way?

Screw it!

You leaned forward and locked lips with him, feeling Henry smile for a moment before meeting your kiss. His palm moved to cup your nape, fingers curling into your hair and nails grazing your scalp, ever so lightly, drawing another shiver out of you. Henry's other hand moved around to your hip and tugged you closer to him, all but pulling you into his lap. The kiss is slow and easy at first, feeling each other out, testing the waters to see if it was right. Then, as if your minds connected like Bluetooth, the embrace became hungry. Fingers slipped into the armholes of his vest and your back straightened as you made little tugs on the soft fabric, needing to feel him closer against you.

“Henry.” You whimpered into his mouth, lashes fluttering open, hearing his breathing deepen, watching and feeling his chest heave.

His lips brushed yours, the warm puffs of his pants caressing your face as his eyes bored into yours, arms dropping around your waist and squeezing you against his rigid body. He felt the same longing that showed in your eyes, and wanted nothing more than to fulfill it. His palms moved up your back and made for the straps of your overalls, shoving one off your shoulders and unclasping the other. Leaning away for the zipper in the middle, unzip it, making it fall off your shoulders completely, to gather around your waist, giving Henry a nice peek at the black lace, bikini panties you were wearing.

“Mmm.” He hummed, smirking at you with half lidded eyes. “Not shorts?” He rasped, tracing the tip of his finger along the wavy edge, before giving the waistband a playful pop.

You felt a slight heat of embarrassment in the pit of your stomach, but your expression was bashful. “Didn't expect any fallen Angels to sneak a peek down my overalls.” You quipped, playfully pushing a button at the top of his vest open.

“It was far too tempting.” Henry murmured, leaning in to kiss you once more, while his hand caressed your bare side, your skin dancing at the feather light contact, before it grazed the waistband of your panties.

Pausing, he meets your eyes once more, seeking permission. You answered it with a nip at his bottom lip and went in for another heated and heady kiss. With an amused rumble, Henry pushed his hand beyond the barrier, drawing out the magical sound against his mouth, when his fingertips dusted over your throbbing clit. He teased you, only giving you the lightest of touch, as if a ghost was tormenting you from the great beyond. Hands moving to the last three buttons of Henry's vest, you opened his dress shirt and pushed your hands inside of it, finding the burning and hard packed muscles he worked so hard on, every day, dusted with dark hair. You lightly dragged your blue, red and white painted nails down his chest; Henry growled and let out a sharp hiss, giving you a narrow-eyed look.

“Oh!” A voice rang out, before Henry could repay your action. “I am so sorry!”

Almost all of your arousal vanished, you quickly fixed your clothing and tried to act as casual as possible but struggled to meet the other party-goer's eyes. Henry on the other hand, had little qualms, having embodied his costume's entity.

“That's quite all right.” He chuckled, not bothering to button his open shirt, showing off his bare chest and nail marks. “Wrong turns happen.” He smirked, his face morphing into this delighted, sinister expression.

“Yeah, this place is a serious maze.” The man, dressed as a Roman soldier, answered, his startled eyes still moving back and forth between you.

“It is.” Henry nodded, his tone hinting for him to go on his way. “There's many more dead ends like this one, I'm sure you'll find.”

Blinking, then finally getting it, the Roman soldier turned and vanished into the fog and dark of the maze, leaving you and Henry once again alone.

“Well, that was interesting.” He laughed, looking back to you, finally buttoning his shirt.

“Yeah, you can say that.” You answered with a half-hearted laugh.

Biting his lip, feeling the mood had been destroyed and sighed softly. “You want to finish the maze?” He asked, offering you a smile, brows lifted in question. “Or we could go back inside?” He added, brow creasing a little.

You balanced the options, seeing the rest of the maze and what was at the end intrigued you, but finishing what you and Henry started was still a rage inferno between your thighs. “I think it's a bit too nippy out here for what I have on.” You answered, licking your lip and eyeing Henry.

“You know,” He replied, glancing thoughtfully. “I believe you're right.” He said, giving a soft shiver himself, his massive shoulders quaking. “Let's go back inside.” He cooed, fixing his vest and standing to offer you his arm.

Taking it, you retraced your steps back to the start of the maze, nodding to the Mad Doctor, who was restocking the antidotes, quickly moved by the grave with the awaiting zombie at the side of the house, and were met yet again by Davison at the door, as he opened them to greet you.

“I hope you found the attractions and festivities to your liking?” He inquired, shutting the doors behind you.

“We did.” Henry nodded, smiling at you. “He went all out for his Halloween party. It's quite amazing.”

“Yeah, it's gotten my heart beat up several times.” You chuckled, smiling back. “Not a party I'll forget.” “I'm pleased to hear it, and so will he.” Davison smiled, pleased.

“We're going to retire upstairs for a bit.” Henry informed him with a wink, leading you towards the staircase. “Have a good evening, Davis.”

“And you.” He called back.

“No.” He chuckled, smiling down at his bare feet. “It is rare. But this isn't really an occasion to bring him along. So, I left him with a good friend.”

“Mmm.” You hummed, leaning back against the bed's footboard to unlace your shoes. “I suppose not.” You agreed, flexing your toes and glancing up at him. “You want to help me?” You asked, gesturing to your overalls. “You seemed quite the expert out in the maze.” You quipped, impishly.

Pursing his lips and giving you a hungry look, Henry strode forward, closing the gap between you easily with his long legs, and took the zipper between his fingers again, but now, he took his time. You watched him work the clasp gently down the molten-gold fabric, revealing more and more of you as it reached its end, between your legs. Henry smirked at your panties, discovering they were not only sheer, but sported a nice, growing wet patch.

“Do you like it when I touch you?” He asked in a breath voice, nimble fingers moving to your straps, caressing the skin beneath it, before flicking it open, the overalls slipping to one side.

“You don't see me stopping you, do you?” You quipped back, as the last strap fell from your shoulder and your outfit started to slip down your body.

He shook his head, hands moving up to the buttons of his shirt, but your hand came up to brush them aside, intent on doing that yourself. Pushing each black button through their hole with painstaking care, knowing Henry was impatient about picking up where you left off outside. You moaned softly, tugging the tucked in fabric from the waistband of his pants and pushing his shirt off his shoulders and arms. You were slow to pull his belt free of their loops, admiring the growing bulge at the front of his slacks. With his belt free, you curled your fingers around the waistband of his pants and boxer briefs, only to be stopped by Henry's hands grasping your wrists.

“What?” You frowned, looking up at him.

“Top.” He answered, motioning to it with his head. “Off.”

“I think I'm a little more naked than you are.” You stated, raising a brow at him.

“I'll be naked the moment you pull my pants and underwear down.” He countered with a smirk.

You took a deep breath, then nodded. “Fair.” You chuckled, pulling your hands away to remove your pink sports bra. “Better, you devil?” You teased, tossing the article of clothing over his head.

“Much, my little joker.” He rasped, cupping one of your breasts in his hand and rubbing its hardened nub with the pad of his thumb. “You can finish your task now.” He said, leaning in to kiss you.

“Mm, thanks.” You mumbled against his mouth, hands blindly finding their way back to his waist, tugging at it, and trying not to be distracted by his lips and hands working their magic on you. “Bat above, you're evil.” You whimpered to the pinch he gave your breast, sending a tingle to your still clothed clit. Henry turned his head, lips brushing the helix of your ear. “I'm not Lucifer for nothing, my dear.” He whispered, allowing his accent to dip and deepen.

Your knees weakened and you let out a breathy whimper. “Good lord.” You gulped, grasping the back of his arms for support.

“I'd rather keep his name to a minimum.” Henry quipped, with a playful attempt at a wink.

“Classic.” You giggled, tilting your head back to brush your lips against his stubbly jaw. “Apologies, Prince of Darkness.” You teased, hand trailing down his torso to his semi-hard cock, closing your fingers around the heated flesh.

Henry hissed in your ear, hooked an arm around your waist and snagged you against him, lifting you off your feet and moving around to the side of the bed, setting you down on it. He paused for a moment, to turn out the lights, then joined you again, where you had fixed yourself correctly on the comfortable mattress and about to slip your undies off.

“No.” He rumbled, slipping between your legs and gently pushing your hands away. “Those are mine.” He informed you, taking a hold of the delicate fabric and started to slip them off. “Oh, you smell so tasty.” He cooed, catching a whiff of your glistening folds, tossing your panties aside and leaning closer with a lick of his lips.

Gulping, you melted back against the pillows as Henry's mouth closed around your slick, vibrating your sensitive need with a rumble of carnal lust. You pawed at the duvet beneath you, rolling your hips against his working mouth, tongue parting your folds to collect the dripping nectar flowing from your cavern. You whimpered and squeezed your thighs against his head, feeling his horns brush your heated and trembling skin, building the numb and tingling sensation at the pit of your stomach.

“Oh, Henry!” You whimpered, a hand moving into the curls at the back of his head. “Oh, plea-fuck!” You cried out, back arching as Henry pressed two heavy fingers onto your swollen pearl, rubbing at it in a rhythm to his mouth and drawing you over the edge swiftly.

Blinded by your orgasm, you didn't notice the figure entering the room with you and Henry for a moment. But caught the moving shape at the foot of the bed, slowly coming down and through your blurred vision, it paused, before shifting to the chair in the corner.

“Henry.” You panted, the heightening tone of alarm in your voice.

“Ssshh.” He hushed you, slowly kissing his way up your seething body until his face was nuzzled between the valley of your bosom, tasting the thin layer of exertion on your burning skin. “It's all right, love.” He heaved, his breath raising goose flesh in its wake.

“But-” You started to protest, shaking your head and trying to focus on the figure seated in the corner, feeling their eyes on you. “There's some-” You tried to warn him breathily, as his mouth encompassed one of your breasts. “Someone's in-”

“I know.” He moaned around your taut areola, before tilting his head for a second to glance at your strange guest. “It's just Gus.” He purred, a naughty smile on his lips and returned back to his worship of your body.

“August?” You whimpered, brows furrowing at his name and Henry's intent suckling. “Henry.” You sighed, eyes fluttering shut and hands pressing to Henry's broad back, letting go and getting washed away with the moment.

Smiling from his vantage point in the corner, the chair angled just right, August watched you and Henry in bed. He knew the two of you, having worked on a couple projects with Henry over the years and met you during the filming of Fall Out. When Henry told him he intended to ask you to the party, his interest and intrigue was set into motion, intent on having some of you for himself, informing Henry of this, and having Davison keep a close eye on you and Henry. So, upon hearing the two of you had been found canoodling in the maze, then scampering back upstairs to Henry's room, Davison rushed to find his boss and informed him that love was in the air between the two of you.

August left where he was entertaining in his study and moved upstairs to Henry's room, using a master key he had for every room on his estate and slipped into the darkened room, like a stealthy panther stalking its prey. Removing and turning off his light up Purge mask, he found you sprawled out on the bed, whimpering Henry's name, while his skillful mouth ate you out, like it was one of the Brit's decadent cheat meals. Hovering in the doorway between the sitting room and the bedroom, waiting—watching...you slip off the cliff of your orgasm, crying out and writhing as you fell; then moved to the bottom of the bed, to reach out and touch Henry's foot.

Alerting him that he had shown up.

He repressed a chuckle, while you tried alerting Henry to his presence, and moved towards the chair, making himself comfortable. But Henry reassured you that it was perfectly all right. It was just your good friend, August, in the room with you, and you had no reason to fret. He opened the front of his rough and semi-black jeans, lifting his hips off the chair just enough to push his pants and briefs down, allowing his rigid cock to spring free of the tight confines and rest heavily against the white dress shirt he had on. He closed his fist around the slick head of his shaft, a deep rumbling moan boiled in his throat as he slowly started to stroke himself, eyes locked on you and Henry intertwining together in bed.

Your quivering legs locked loosely around his thick thighs, while Henry's mouth was like a suction cup against the column of your throat, working in tandem to his steely manhood rubbing against your heated folds, coating the taut and veiny flesh with your sweet essence. Your quiet whimpers and mewls spurred on both men, putting cracks in August's usual calm and controlled demeanor, and pushed Henry to impatience, struggling with his will to warm you up, before diving deep into you, headfirst.

“Take her.” August rasped, abandoning his cock for a second to open his shirt and toss it aside, not wanting to soil it any more than the few wet spots of pre-come, and returned to pleasuring himself.

Henry snapped a look over his shoulder, face flushed and sweaty. “She's mine, Gus.” He hissed at the other man, eyes a dark cobalt with lust and feeling territorial.

“I belong to no one!” You wheezed, dizzy and drunk from Henry's attention.

A smirk pulled across both men's lips, and Henry looked down at you, brushing damp and colorful strands of hair off your sweaty forehead and placing a gentle kiss to the bridge of your nose.

“Of course, my love.” He cooed at you, stroking the side of your face with the back of his fingers. “We know you don't.” He said, kissing the corner of your mouth. “My apologies.” He whispered against your lips.

You sighed against his mouth and shook your head again, lifting your heavy arms to tangle your fingers into his hair. “I want you.” You murmured, nudging your nose against his, legs squeezing his to pull him in closer. “Please, Henry.” You gulped, eyes fluttering open to gaze up at him.

“As you wish.” He replied quietly, pulling back slightly and slipping a hand between your bodies, grasping and stroking himself for a moment, before lining his weeping, heart-shaped tip with your glistening honeypot. “Oh god, you're so snug, Bug.” He purred, easing himself in, bit by bit, as he leaned back over you, bracing himself on his elbows, loving how you wrapped around him.

“Shit.” August grunted, fixated on Henry entering you, your folds sealing around his girth like a tailor-made glove, while trying to picture his own manhood in its place, squeezing his shaft in an attempt to replicate it.

Henry's thrusts were short and measured, rocking into you with an easy pace, almost matching the beat of the music that was bleeding through the floor downstairs. It was both what you wanted and also drove you nuts, wanting him to drive you through the bed, to turn your insides to pudding. You rocked your hips in-tune to his, one hand clawing down his sweat drenched back to dig into the meat of his bum and thrust your other hand between your bodies to find your neglected clit.

“Don't you dare come.” Henry growled at you, pressing his body down on yours, trapping you against the mattress and immobilizing your hand from pleasuring yourself. “Not without me.” He panted, holding your gaze.

You were caught off guard for a moment, before arching an amused brow at him. “Fine.” You smirked, giving him a nice pat on the butt.

“Good girl.” He purred, capturing your lips and shifting his weight again, enabling you to stroke your pulsing clit, toes curling and walls quaking around Henry's cock, milking it. “How are you doing over there, Gus?” He chuckled, shooting the American a glance over his shoulder.

“Could be better.” August grunted back, slumped a little in his seat, working his cock as he continued to watch, the sound of Henry's cock moving inside of you filled the room with your soft whimpers and moans, it was like a perfect orchestra to his ears, making his balls tight, but he still wanted you for himself.

Henry brought his lips to your ear. “He's jealous.” He whispered in a roguish tone.

“Mmm.” You moaned back, half listening to what either of them were saying, drunk on the feeling of Henry inside of you and the pressure you were applying to your tender pearl, drenching you both even more to create a wet spot on the bed sheet beneath.

“She's getting fucked out.” August smirked, hearing your numb moans. “And you haven't even let her come again.” He chuckled, using his free hand to massage his heavy sack, growling deep in his chest and pressing his head against the back of the chair.

Henry felt his own loins tingle and spasm, begging to be unloaded inside your tight, hot core, which only drew him in with each thrust, attempting to hold him inside for your own salvation. Henry groaned, thrusting forward and almost losing himself to the pressure.

“I can't hold back anymore, Hen.” You mewled up at him, breathless and spent. “Please.”

“Me neither, love.” He sighed back, nuzzling the side of your sweaty neck for a moment, before slowly slipping free. “You wanna come with me, babe?” He panted, pulling up on his knees, but kept one elbow braced beside your head.

Moving a hand between your heaving bodies, Henry gently shoved aside your sluggishly moving hand from your mound, bringing it to his mouth and gently sucked on your honey saturated fingers, savoring the heady taste. With your hand clean, Henry took a hold of himself, stroking his length and rubbing his tip against your overstimulated folds at the same time, drawing out soft whimpers and moans. Your hands kneaded his sides, while you twitched and quivered beneath him, eyes fluttering in the back of your lids with streaks to tears going down your temples.

“Oh...Henry!” You hiccupped in short gasps, licking your parched lips. “I'm-m s-so c-close!” You gulped, nudging your face against his, blindly seeking his lips.

“I am too, love.” He wheezed back, increasing the friction. “Come with me.” He whispered, meeting your lips in a breathless kiss.

It was easy, with how close the pair of you were, so you just let go. Gushing over Henry's cock and drenching the sheets even more, while Henry jerked rope after rope of his hot seed over your glistening folds and heaving stomach, making your skin sticky with each expulsion of his loins. August watched with concupiscent awe, biting into his bottom lip and digging a shoe heel into the expensive rug at his feet, as his own orgasm peaked, flowing over his jerking fist and staining the black fabric of his jeans.

You, Henry and August let out a collective sigh as your climax waned. Henry's weary arms snaked around your body, while his body slowly tilted sideways, collapsing onto the mattress with an exhausted grunt and holding you to his chest. Sighing against his collarbone, your eyes fluttering shut, spent and sedated.

A touch to your back told you, you'd fallen asleep, stirring you back to the world of the living and from the warm bubble of Henry's body. Expecting to see Henry staring at you, you opened your eyes to his sleeping face and the deep puffs of his snores.

“Right here, gorgeous.” A deep timber whispered into your ear.

Turning your head, your eyes met August's, he was leaning over you, a smile plastered on his handsome face, and his hand still stroking the length of your back. “Gus?” You mumbled, sleepily blinking up at him.

August tapped a finger to his lips and cast his eyes to Henry. “Ssshh, don't wake him, sweetheart.” He cooed at you, sweetly. “He needs his rest.” He told you, before helping you carefully untangle from Henry's embrace and sit up on the edge of the bed.

“What are you doing, August?” You asked, looking up at him, even though you had your suspicions.

“Helping you clean up.” He answered, dipping his hand to your stomach, reminding you of Henry's dried release, that was still there. “I started a nice, warm shower for you.” He explained, taking your hands in his and pulled you to your feet, stretching your sore muscles.

“Sure, Gus.” You giggled, letting him guide you around the bed and into the bathroom, the sound of falling water filling your ears and blanket of warm steam wrapping around you as it filled the space. “You're only helping, so you can have your chance.” You smirked, not so out of it during your lovemaking with Henry to forget August's jealousy he was missing out.

August laughed, unconcerned of sound now that the door was closed. “So perceptive of you, Sugar.” He smirked, opening the door of the shower stall for you. “Unless you'd rather I leave you and Henry be.” He added, as you entered the shower, cocking a brow at you.

“Hmm.” You hummed, stepping under the pleasant spray of the showerhead, letting the water wash over you, before glancing at August over your shoulder. “Well, it would be a lie, if I said I hadn't thought about what it would be like to be with both of you.” You smirked, eyes dancing with mischief. “And Hen and I already had our fun.”

“You impish, little jester.” August growled, discarding the remains of his clothing and joined you, hugging an arm around your waist and pressing his chest against your back, his mouth finding your neck, the hairs of his immaculate mustache tickling your wet skin.

“Christ, August.” You moaned, his rock-hard manhood pressing against your butt. “I-” Your breath caught in your throat, August's hand closing around your mound, fingers oh-so-delicately caressing your pearl, waking it from its soreness.

“You what, Sugar?” He purred into your ear, nipping at its rim almost painfully. “Tell me.” He insisted, free hand coming up to cup your jaw and pull your back to rest against his shoulder.

“I want you.” You whimpered, chewing on your bottom lip and pushing up on your toes. “Take me, Gus.” You begged him, grinding against his manhood.

Smirking, August took a step forward, until you were trapped between him and the warm, smokey-gray subway tile of the shower wall. He spread your feet and gripped your hip with one hand, grasping his shaft in the other and teased your silky folds, only slipping just his tip between them to rim your passage, loving the feel of your quiver.

“So desperate for me to fill you up.” He chuckled, kneading your hip.

“August, please.” You huffed, still overstimulated from being with Henry and unable to take August's teasing. “Please, I need you inside of me.” You moaned, legs wobbling as he pushed the first half of his manhood into your ruined cavern, your knees almost giving out, had it not been for him and the wall holding you up.

“Stuff me.” You told him, mindlessly.

“I intend too, Sugar.” August smirked, gripping both of your hips and used them as leverage to ease the rest of himself inside of you, still taking his time, despite your continued begs and mewls. “You take me so well, sweetheart.” He panted, once he was settled, engulfed inside your pocket. “Henry did so well, opening you for me.” He chuckled, pressing a palm to the tile above your head and drew almost completely out, then drove back in, hammering into your sweet and sore spot, drawing out a cry from your lips that echoed in the stall.

“August!” You arched your back into his thrusts, cheek pressed against the wall and eyes squeezed shut. “Oh god.” You wheezed, breath fogging the glossy tile. “You feel so good, Gus.” You told him, your voice hardly above the sound of the shower head. “So good.” You mumbled to yourself, nursing your walls around his cock, feeling every ridge and vein as you did and every driving force of him moving inside of you.

“Oh, you're not going to last for me, are you, Sugar?” He cooed, stroking the back of your wet hair and squeezing the nape of your neck. “Just too fucked out.” He hummed, sensing and watching your body tremble as you did your best to fight off your orgasm. “That's all right, princess.” He said, kissing the top of your head and increasing the pace of his thrusts. “Let go.” He instructed you, locking an arm around your waist. “Come all over my cock, gorgeous.” He egged you on, until he felt your body quake and tense, a hot rush around his frenzied shaft.

“There you go, very good.” He praised you, lining kisses over your shoulder and neck, nuzzling his face there as he buried himself deep inside and let loose, pumping his load into your core and painting your walls, unlike Henry.

The two of you stood there for a long time, supporting each other against the shower wall with the water still raining down over you. Until August's skilled ears twitched to a squeak above the patter of water on the hexagon tiles and turned his head. A smirk pulled across his lips as he spied Henry through the clear glass of the shower doors, coming into the bathroom.

“Did we wake you, Hank?” He quipped, as the Brit stepped into the stall with you, a gush of chilly air invading the warm space, making you shiver against August's chest.

“Yes and no.” He replied, dipping his head under the shower head, soaking his curls. “I woke up, when I realized our little Harley Quinn wasn't in bed with me any longer and heard some of your shower fun.” He informed him, shaking his head, to flick the curls out of his face, and moved to stand beside August, looking down at you. “Looks like you're having a nice, little shower, love.” He smirked, seeing the expression of sedated and satisfied exhaustion on your face.

“Mmm.” You hummed back, blinking up at him.

Both men chuckled at you, shaking their heads.

“You look after her, I have to piss.” August told Henry, slipping free of you and eased away, wanting to make sure you didn't fall without his support, before stepping out of the shower to use the toilet.

“Are you all right?” Henry asked, helping you sit down on a built-in, shower bench.

“I'm fine.” You answered, resting back against the wall. “Just didn't expect all of--” You motioned around sluggishly. “This—when I got your mystery invite to the party.”

Henry smirked, grabbing a bath sponge and a bar of vanilla, sandalwood and cardamom soap, from a recess in the shower wall. “That's a fair point.” He nodded, soaping up the sponge and grabbing one of your arms. “In all honesty, I didn't intend this to happen either.” He admitted to you, gently lathering up your skin.

“Well, I did want to be with you. I just didn't expect August to actually join us.”

“The devil made me do it!” August chimed in, coming back into the shower and started to wash. “But I told you, I intended to, if you wooed her.”

“Wooed me!” You huffed, rolling your eyes. “So, the two of you talked about this?”

“Henry needed some prodding in getting the courage to send you the invite.” August informed you, smirking at Henry, who blushed and looked at neither of you. “But we're both quite happy you said yes.”

“That's true.” Henry nodded, moving the sponge across your shoulders, massaging them as he did. “I hope we didn't push you or anything.” He said, biting his lip as he looked you over.

You let out an amused laugh, tipping your head back to look up at the two men, who regarded you. “It's a bit late to be asking that, isn't it?” You inquired, shaking your head, before relaxing and growing serious. “But no, you guys didn't do anything I didn't want or consent to. Even though I was surprised by August sneaking into the room, like some sort of spy.”

Henry and August looked at each other, an expression of acknowledgment between them for a quick moment, before it passed, and they looked away.

“Suppose we should get back to the party.” You said, as Henry finished helping you wash.

“No.” August shook his head and rinsed the shampoo out of his hair. “The party ended a short while ago. The guests that are staying over, are in their rooms and those that weren't, have long been ushered off the property.” He informed you, causally.

“Just us, darling.” Henry winked, moving into August's spot to shower himself, carefully removing his devil horns. “Do you want to stay here with us, or would you rather I call Marco to take you back home?” He asked, cocking a closed eyed brow at you.

You weighed the options, watching Henry wash, water cascading around and along every groove and line of his muscular body, activating a tingle deep in your exhausted and sore body. “No need to bother him so late.” You finally answered, eyes shifting to August, who was grabbing towels.

Showered and dried off, You, Henry and August filed back into the bedroom. August called Davison up with a phone in the sitting room, having him bring up a few bottles of water for you all, which you were thankful for, since you were parched. Quenched, you climbed into bed, burrowing down under the sheets in the middle, while Henry and August got in on either side of you. Henry looped an arm around your waist, snuggling you against his chest and August lounged close to you, on his back, allowing you to reach out and lay your hand on his chest.

“Good night, my love.” Henry whispered, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“Sleep well, Sugar.” August cooed, patting your hand gently, and kissed your knuckles.

“Good night.” You hummed, letting your fatigue take a hold of you. “Happy...Hallo-ween.” You mumbled, dropping off, happily cocooned between them.

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mintiicinnamonii · 3 months ago

Text

All 2 U

notes: if yall know me from only my x readers, you may not know that im what my friends call ‘the angst queen’. I love writing angst, and to hold you guys over til the SPICY SHIT, I have this angsty one shot :3

It had been two days since you and Wukong broke up. And you had been inconsolable ever since. Not answering calls, barely going outside, crying (as someone in your position reasonably would).. you felt like shit, to put it bluntly. Yet despite all of this, when you got a random letter in the mail inviting you from a ‘Wukong Sucks” party with an outfit exactly your size, you decided to go. Funny how that works, huh?

The party was at a bar, with a fancy chandlier and pool tables. It almost looked like a casino in Las Vegas; Whoever hosted this was rich as hell. You fiddled with your hoodie, looking around. Damn, a lot of people hated Wukong… Ironically, you were wearing a peach themed outfit, the one the mystery person sent you. Despite being depressed out of your mind, you found the mystery person’s humor funny.

“Hey! New one!” You turned your head to see a dark furred simian, with golden eyes and a red marking on his face. He looked vaguely familiar. “Me?” You pointed at yourself. The monkey chuckled; his voice had a slight rasp and a suave tone. “Yeah, who else could I be talking about?” He put his hands in his pockets. “Heard you were Wukong’s freshest ex. Name’s Macaque. The Six-Eared Macaque.”

Macaque.. you memorized the name in your mind, silently muttering. “Nice to meet you,” You introduced yourself, saying your name as well. “Were.. you the one who sent me that invite? And the clothes?” Macaque furrowed his brows. “No, I didn’t.. Who could have-“ He froze, before pinching his nose brdige. “Oh, that little shit.” You raised a brow from under your hat, confused. “Huh?” The monkey looked back up at you. “Oh, nothing.” Macaque sighed. “Say.. how about you go on stage? We have a karaoke bar, and at least for me.. singing relieves some stress.” You hummed. “I dunno.. I’m not the best on stage…” Macaque laughed in response. “Nonsense! You’ll be fine! Besides, it ain’t about how good you sound.”

He led you to the stage, your eyes scanning the venue. There were people laughing and drinking around a bar where a white haired person (who looked more like a kid with her style and stature, Macaque insisted she was well over 21.) served drinks, playing pool and cards, and you caught sight of someone burning a Wukong plush on a stake. You shuffled a bit closer to Macaque after that.

Wukong pushed through the crowd, covering his face with his sunglasses as his tail snapped on the floor in irritation at the sight of all the people he’d wronged; A few heavenly deities which he stole the peaches of immortality from, Ao Guang and his assistant, hell, even Nezha, the Celestial Realm’s number one grumpypants. What was the commotion? He was just here for a drink, only to see everyone crowding around the stage and burning his plushies at the stake. From behind his sunglasses, he saw two golden eyes whispering to someone with a peach baseball cap, and the sight of him made his blood boil. Macaque. That bastard. He had to use all of his self control to not start a fight right there, right now. But his temper was replaced instantly as a familiar face stepped on stage. “Peaches..?” He whispered, barely audible.

You looked at the crowds of people, clearing your throat as the spotlight shone on you. Your body shook and you started to sweat in your peach hoodie; you were never good at performing. God, why did you go here again? Just as you were beginning to panic, Macaque teleported next to you, accompanied by a shadow clone. He nodded, smiling reassuringly. The bartender gave a thumbs up, grinning. You exhaled, starting to sing a song that you’d been listening to a lot since the breakup.

“I let you get too close I let it go too far Now I know, now I know Now I know exactly what you are!”

Macaque and the shadow clones jumped in, immediately knowing the song and following along. Macaque and one shadow clone served as background singers as around 3 more played the drums and guitar; that monkey thought of everything…

“I don’t think you meant to hurt me

Cause I don’t think it meant a thing at all~”

You felt your voice rasp a bit, but no one seemed to noticed as the song continued.

Wukong was in shock. You were really good at singing, and through the 2 years you have been together, he had no idea you could sing. His heart twisted as you sang about how your relationship meant nothing to him. God.. nothing could be farther from the truth.

“But I~!

I keep on waiting

Waiting to want you less than I do

Oh I do, oh I do, yes I still do want you..”

You held the mic in a death grip, voice filled with grief, and sadness, and rage. Rage about why this didn’t work out. Rage on how depressed you’ve been without him. Rage on how you STILL wanted him, despite everything.

But then you felt.. guilt.

“But maybe its all on me

for missing every sign

and every chance

and every turn..”

You couldn’t help but flinch when Macaque chimed in with:

“Nononono, he’s a motherfucker!”

You persisted, pure emotion flowing into your song. Wukong bit his lip, staring at you on the stage. He would be passed on the floor from how hot you loomed if he wasn’t heartbroken.

“Maybe there’s something here

For us to glean

For you to teach

and me to try and learn..”

“Cause I am not a thief

But you were mine to earn!

What if I came on too strong?

What if I read this all wrong?

What if we just don’t belong?

All this what if, what if, what if, what if, what if, what if

makes me

burn~!”

Wukong felt tears well up in his eyes. “Dammit, peaches..” He tried not to cry. He couldn’t cry. Not now. Not ever. Why were you the only one who could do this to him? He was so busy wallowing in his depression he didn’t notice you ending the song and walking off stage. His golden eyes widened, watching you leave before chasing after you.

“Hey! Wait a sec-“ He called out, speed walking as he once again pushed through the crowd. “S’cuse me- Pardon me- Move-“

He finally spotted you, drinking some alcohol with a dead look on your face in the corner.

“Peaches!”

You snapped your head to look at him. “..Wha-“ You paused, confused. “How- why-“

“I’m sorry.”

“..What.”

Wukong stiffened. “Look, I know I’m bad at this sorry thing, and I know I fucked up on so many levels-“

“Oh, glad you could admit it. Want a medal?” You scoffed, drinking some more of the booze as you pulled your hood up on your head. Wukong opened his mouth, about to speak, when you cut him off, voice shaking. “Don’t. Just- just don’t. ..Do you know how much it hurts? For the one person who promised to be there for you through EVERYTHING, to leave you behind and forget about you? I loved you, I TRUSTED you-“ You paused, shaking. “Why? Why did you leave me? Am I that worthless to you? Is getting mire powerful the ONLY THING YOU CARE FOR-“ You inhaled, wiping away a tear. “Go home, Wukong. I don’t like how you make me feel.”

Wukong’s heart shattered, reaching out to hold your hand when Macaque walked up to the both of you. Wukong quickly adjusted his sunglasses. Macaque was none the wiser, looking at you. “‘Not a good singer’ you say?” The shadow monkey laughed. “Hah. You’re cute when you stutter.” Your cheeks went pink at that. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, we’re busy.” Wukong growled, grasping his sleeve. “Woah, there bud, I was just asking if the new one wanted to dance~.” He smirked, and your eyes widened. Wukong, despite his obvious jealousy, sighed, nodding at you as a sign to let you go. You nodded back, going over to Macaque and joining him on the dance floor.

Wukong groaned. “God.. stupid fuckin..” He stood up, going to leave. Music blared through the speakers, the stench of alcohol and smoke filled the room as he leaned on the door frame, and looked back one last time to see you and Macaque laughing, the two of you suddenly locked in a kiss.

Wukong stormed outside after that.

#lmk sun wukong x reader #lmk macaque x reader #IM SORRY-#lmk x reader #lego monkie kid x reader #lmk #lego monkie kid

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junkdyke · 10 months ago

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I'm now home after spending a week with my butch and...I miss her so much already 🥲 I have never felt like this about someone and we had such an amazing time together, I can't waitttt to see her again. Some highlights:

She loved the hats i made for her cat, we put them on him and the roommates cat, it was funny as hell, they hated them so much

Speaking of cats, the amount of cat cuddles with the both of us

We went grocery shopping together, cooked meals together, she put me up on the kitchen counter top, played house

We went to the bar, and I embarrassed myself by joining the lip sync competition and performing in front of a bunch of gay men. She thought I was good, and I love that she appreciates my cringe

Went to another bar, sat up front, and the host drag queen gave me an appreciation look and nod because I was one of the only people giving the cheer energy for the queens performing

We went through a box of her childhood pictures, I took home a physical trading card of her from when she played football and was the only girl on the team

She wrote me a letter that is just so....ugh 💓

She got me pink peonies to have in the house, and sent me home with one to preserve

She gave me her old binder, it fits me really well

I thought her how to crochet and she's already picking it up super well. Once she gets the hang of it, we want to start a 6 day blanket at the same time

She helped her roommate with some handy work shit with a drill, typical hot butch things

She wants us to plant a tomato seed at the same time and see whose grows the fastest

Went thrifting a lot, found some amazing finds, messed around in the fitting room

Had sex nearly every day, multiple times per day. At one point I said "It's been nearly 24 hours since we had sex, that's weird"

She ate me out on the balcony, in the cold ass air with the beautiful backdrop of the city view and moon in the background

We went to the sex shop and got some stuff together. She got me a bondage teddy bear plush.

She took me to a beautiful botanical garden with a lights display

We took every shower together

Nonstop talking. Just never running out of things to say

Just lots of laughing and cuddling and kissing and hickies and dressing each other up and taking pictures of each other and being in each others presence

We're going to be traveling together and i'll be trying to made it out there as often as I can

We wanna try and take some classes and workshops together, like ceramics and woodworking

I wanna learn how to do a fade and she wants to learn how to retwist locs so we can do each others hair

Lots of 'joking' about UHauling

I'm just very very very happy :)

#i cried soooooo much when i was packing and leaving #she was so strong for not crying too much until after she dropped me off #she said she bawled once i left ughhhh #we FTed this morning and I cried againnnnnnn #I just miss her so much!!!! I have not felt like this before!!!!!!#can't wait to see her againnnnnn #mine #wlw #lesbian dating #dykeposting #butchfemme

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therealslimshakespeare · 9 months ago

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Dear John | Unsayable Things

Masters of the Air Fanfiction

I banged this out in an hour or two, past midnight, deep in my feels, half chatting with my baby @stylespresleyhearted who put in the initial request for this series and who is now owed a few choice lines herein. If you wanna stew in the pain of Friday’s episode- this is the angst fest for you. With a tiny bit of hope at the end. Tiny. But it’s there.

Summary: months after one drunken letter of horny (and gentlemanly) admiration was sent off by one John Egan to Miss Lana Tierney of Hollywood fame, a written rapport has formed between them, based on a refreshing freedom to be perfectly frank and even trivial in their letters -a tone set by his inarguably appaling initial correspondence. But until today, he’s never dared make use of the number she gave him to dial when he needs to say unspeakable things.

Warnings: angsty as hell? morose and possibly suicidal thought processes? it’s Egan after THAT phone call so, I imagine you can envision that it’s not exactly a stable mentality portrayed here-in.

Masterlist

Date: October 1943

The hotel lobby is as chilled as an ice box with those front doors constantly revolving, letting in gusts of autumn air that’s suddenly turned harsher than he recalled when he stepped out into the daylight this morning. His ride back to East Anglia won’t be here for another two hours and no amount of charm or haggling can get him the petrol to make the journey on his own. It’s a carpool sort of life now, every man, woman and child in Britain knows that but every minute he stays in the great metropolis feels like a betrayal to those boys who just got-

-he will get back in time.

He vowed it, he arranged it, now all there’s left to do is wait until it can be enacted. John was never good at waiting but now all the activities and pastimes he’d once relied upon to fill a slow hour seem intolerable. Imbibe any more booz and he’ll be unfit to fly, seeing the sites could get him more sights than he’d like, polite conversation makes him want to scream in the face of the next passer by that he’s lost something precious today -don’t they know? -and it would be just his luck today of all days to get answered by someone who did know, some parent with a dead child, pulverized to bits while he fucked his demons out.

So John keeps his mouth shut in a stern line and stares venomously ahead at the charming little Renoir hung in the lounge. No one has troubled him yet and by the spooked face of the desk clerk who offered him a menu, he dares to think he won’t be in future.

He is sick to death of it all, of the death itself and the brave faces and the lack of bravery he suddenly feels now and the necessity of it all. He hardly recognizes the hollowed out sinner he’s become with a head full of too many griefs to even formulate a prayer.

He was close to catatonic, eyeball deep in his self abhorrence, when he realized he was spinning round the little lacquered card she had enclosed three letters ago.

“If you ever need to say those unsayables, here’s a private line. Don’t call it if you don’t want me to answer, only you, my mama and my hair stylist have it. Xoxo, Jeanie.” 💋

The unsayable would be to call one of the most successful, desirable and busy women in the world only to admit John Egan has run outta words. But with the mounting desire to do something stupidly productive, and without the kind fist of a friend to dissuade him -he knew walking in front of busses wouldn’t get him any closer to Thorpe Abbots- a starlet’s withering rejection just might do the trick. Just might hurt enough to slice through the fog. His fingers were sweating as he spun the rotary, thumbnail tracing the underside of her extension.

God knows it would be unlikely to get through even the first connection, much less get overseas, much less find her at her home. What time of day was it back there anyway? And this entire conversation would get bugged to hell, he’d have to be careful and this was a terrible idea to start with and-

“Hello you,” the airiest voice he’s ever heard warbles over the static, teasing and warm, “I’ll admit it, that lilac did nothing for my color last night. You win, I’ve got the front page of the Whisper to confirm, please, don’t rub it in.”

John stares out of his little alcove in the lounge with watery eyes, mouthing a silent -what the fuck- to himself before recalling the obvious: only her mother, her hairstylist and him. With this line, Jeanie -or should he call her Lana on the phone?- didn’t expect a stranger. This was an anticipated call and he about hangs up in mortification at not being what she expected.

But then, the hollow idea of one and a half hours of waiting for the ride catches up and John recalls that he had in fact phoned in order to be humiliated and he was a rare sort of chump to take so poorly to a plan gone off to so dazzling a start.

“Can’t imagine a shade that wouldn’t suit you.” he finds himself saying smoothly, the flirtation on autopilot.

He can hear an audible gasp on the other end of the line and a breathy sputter and what might be sheets rustling, or perhaps it’s a dress or paper or-

“JOHNNY?” she all but squeals and he winces at the blare of the receiver in his ear, the flinching crinkle of his blue eyes not without some pleased merriment at her unabashed excitement. “This you? Finally you used it, you silly old thing! Oh gosh, oh gosh say something again, your voice is divine! Oh, I can’t believe I’m finally talking to you. I thought you were my mother! Oh say something! You’re there, aren’t you? Johnny?”

She sounds so pleased he finds his eyes smarting and suddenly this feels like the worst idea in the world. He needed her to be harsh, to fit with every other disillusionment that’s rained down on him this past month, instead he’s met with -care. His stomach roils and not even the mean suspicion that she’s putting on an act can make it calm. “Well, I’m finally somewhere I don’t have to share a line with the whole group.”

“Where’s that, Johnny?” She sounds as eager as if he’s got a lot of options.

“London.”

“Oh!” There’s a waiver to her voice, he’s not sure why, but either way she sounds unsure if she should be merry or sober. “Business or pleasure?” she inquires levelly and it’s got all the sultry teasing he’s read into her scrawled writing hundreds of times, John finds himself flushing despite the morose sentiment that comes up right behind it.

“That, well, uh, that uh“ he picks at the sleek paint on the phone base and questions whether he’s going to use precious time on the phone with the hottest dame on planet earth to throw a pity party, “-I think the intention was a rehabilitation for the nerves. Ironically the guy who suggested it is now toast.”

“Oh John.” she sounds wounded and he bites his lip in savage pleasure at hearing what he wishes he could feel. “Was it -was it someone close?”

“A couple hundred, more like.” he sulks, his jaw ticking so hard he might break a molar if he keeps on. “But yeah. Yeah today was-“ he tries to think of the censors and that makes him laugh at the thought of all their previous filthy correspondence making it through but some slip of the tongue about a dead friend could land them in the hot spot, his following laugh is snotty and he could gag at himself for it.

“Johnny, darling man, are you-“ she shifts course and he holds his breath, depending on her for something, he doesn’t even what, “-does this happen to have something to do with our duet’s harshest critic?”

He smiles at her cleverness, she’s not a complete airhead then. And she recalls Buck. Of course she does, she hasn’t stopped sending him kisses via Egan’s letters even though she didn’t recall meeting either, not even when John had sent back photographs of the both of them to jog it. The flow of correspondence hadn't stalled despite this strike out and neither had the morale boosting glamor shots of certain of her assets which John kept locked in the false bottom of his footlocker and one small one folded in in the hollowed heel of his boot.

_“keeping it handy for the emergency tug off?” Gale had scorned him but Egan liked having her with him._

“Yeah, Shirley Temple- he’s been uh, he’s been traded, ya see.” Egan manages the metaphor once more and winces at the truth it hides.

He hears Je-Lana?-Jeanie?- suck in a breath on the other end. “Gosh. John. Any sign of, of-“ she begins to stammer, “of chut-“

-chutes, she’s going to say. John coughs loudly into the reviver and her voice trails off in recognition of his warning. “This was a mistake.” he decides, “I just -you can see why- I just thought I’d like to hear a-a-a voice, a-“

“A friend!” she replies eagerly, “I’m here, I’m here don’t go, not yet, not unless you have to, Major. Are you waiting? You’ll be wanting to get back, no? Or will you be staying on? In London?”

“I’m not staying.”

“Of course.” she whispers, “I’m so terribly, terribly sorry.”

His grip on the receiver has turned white. “No,” he decides, “I’m the one who’s sorry. Bringing this up, never even talked to you before and I go and make it this the call. Pretty girl like you doesn’t need this.”

“I told you to call.” she reminds him gently, “And Johnny, I’m ever so happy to hear your voice, I’ve imagined it a million times rereading your letters and looking at your photographs. I can concede that my imagination failed.”

“You reread them?” he is amused.

“Yes. Don’t you reread mine?”

“Mhmm you bet.”

“Gosh your voice gives me shivers.” she whispers into the phone and he feels an odd rising of the hair on the back of his neck. “Are you having to beat the London women off with a baseball bat?”

“I just let ‘em swarm.” he admits and she makes a noise of intrigue, “I was with a widow last night.” He blurts. “Polish. We watched the bombs from my hotel room.”

“How relaxing.” Without missing a beat Jeanie’s soft tease comes through, “Did the one balance the other for the nerves?”

“I’m dehydrated and hungover.”

“And grieving.” she adds.

That’s an unsayable. “I just needed to talk to someone.” he decides.

“Did she not speak English?”

He’s gone this far, he might as well be honest. “She didn’t know Buck.”

“Mm.” She makes a mournful noise of assent.

“I-I’m tryin’ not to do something stupid Jeanie,” he hates how his voice shakes but to her, it sounds more like rage than fear, “and I thought if I could hear your voice I’d -id get some peace. And wait for my ride without bustin’ up the Carleton.”

“Yes, I forbid you to bust up the Carleton without me, Major.” she warns and his pulse leaps at the simple direction, it’s a joke of course but it lodges heavy and wanted in his chest. “Promise me, Johnny, one day we’ll cause a great scandal there, you and I?”

“Miss Tierney,” he bites at his lip, “it’s a kindness for me not to make promises. To girls -to anybody.” She’s got to know that, she’s just being nice. “Especially not to special little ladies with nice long futures ahead of them.”

“It’s Turner, actually, Miss Turner if you’re going to be so formal.” She corrects, not a single part of her name Hollywood hasn’t meddled with. “But you must know, it’s far too late for that John. I miss you like mad.”

“We haven’t even met.” he reasons.

“What, and you don’t miss me?”

He curses under his breath fondly and shrugs. “I adore you.”

There’s a beat of silence in which he thinks he may have blown it by being so gushing but in fact, Jeanie finds herself milking her throat to dislodge the lump of painful glee settling there.

“Then you do whatever you have to, Bucky Egan,” she commands him, imperious but fervent, “you punch and get punched and drink as much as you need and bed as many girls as it takes and go after Buck-“

“-hold up, how’d you kn-“

“-but you come home. It’s much too late to tell me not to get my hopes up. You’re all I dream about anymore. There’s got to be some future for us, there’s got to be, Johnny, I’m not asking you to promise I’m asking you to try. Do what you’re good at.”

The pause is long and heavy and Bucky thinks he hears her sniffling on the other end. Unmoored by the unprecedented honesty he’s receiving and the juxtaposition of being someone’s risky bet for happiness when just this morning he’d come to resign himself to letting go what could only ever be a passing night's comfort- “Hell of a business.” he finds himself repeating.

“But you’re the best at it.” she retorts, “So stay the best.”

Everything certain, everything he thought was a given got blown to hell with Gale’s plane today. “Used to tell him if everybody else went down it’d be just him and me. I believed that.” He mumbles into the phone, turning to tuck his neck into the device like it’s the soft crook of her neck, “Now to be the best- that’s just me, and charred Europe under me and no one else in sight. That’s what you’re asking? ‘Cause that’s how this ends.”

The sun is shining bright and brutal in California, a cheery morning to mock her cocktail hangover and now she thinks it’s to hurt him as well, everything is so far removed an ocean away. Such bleakness is hard to even fathom for her, but the man she’s come to know, to love even, on paper is hoarsely spilling his guts to her over the phone and she’s not sure what one says to such a prediction. Her agent hovers in the doorway, the angry swats of her hand not sufficient to deter him from fretting with the press conference approaching. “So what, this is a suicide note?” she winces as soon as she says it but honesty has always been their currency.

“No.” he replies at long last and her shoulders sag. “I thought- i just wanted to hear your voice once before I go up again, Jeanie.”

“And I’m glad you called.” she swears, “And now I’ll have a voice to go with all the wicked things you do in my dreams.”

“Oh fu- Jeanie that’s unfair.” He balks and she grins at the little victory.

“Alls fair in love and war, Major.” She reminds, “Now tell me, do you want to tell me about him? Buck-“

“No, fuck no!” he hisses, angry at himself, “I wanted to talk to you to forget. I wanted to hear your voice.” He repeats it like an idiot.

“Then tell me,” she soothes, unphased by his outburst, “what would you like to hear in my voice, Major? The latest score? Perhaps the front page of the Times? They brought it in with my toast. Or some dirty line from one of your letters? I’ve got them here under one of Salinger’s books. They’re safe from the fiancé there, he’s a complete ignoramus with a phobia for learning.”

Bucky chuckles at her unabashed derision for her hotel scion intended and grins at the idea of her sleeping so near to his scrawled professions of lo- obsession at the very least.

Love is another unsayable.

“Just -tell me about your day, sweetheart?“ he begs, hoarse with the need to teleport elsewhere for the remaining forty minutes of his wait.

“If you’re sure.” she sounds only mildly skeptical, “It’s been very loungey, rather frilly.”

“Perfect.” he sighs, closing his eyes.

“Well, it’s actually morning here so I haven’t been up to much,” she begins and he feels guilty for just dialing away, damn the timezones, “I’ve not even dressed.”

“What color are you wearing?” he begs before he even realizes it.

“White.”

Hey sucks his teeth and nods approvingly. “White what?”

“A silk top and- no! Go away Herbert, for the last time!” Some interruption seems to occur on her end as a man’s voice comes through in snatches and Jeanie’s raised one drifts through the hand she’s cupped over the receiver, “Herbert, for the love of God, I am talking to one of the men protecting our country, the reporters can wait!”

Jeanie’s snappy loyalty soothes some raw edge he’s felt since watching *her* leave this morning without more than a kiss. “Reporters, huh?” he sympathizes, fully ready to give her an out.

“You’d think they’d have enough to report, there’s a war on.” she seethes and he has to smile again, “Anway, where were we? Oh, my pajama shorts.”

“White.”

“Yes Johnny, white.”

“Send me a picture?”

“Awfully demanding for a man who hasn’t even promised me he’ll try to live and see them in person.”

John puffs out a laugh at being snared so easily. “Alright, I’ll try.”

“Promise?” Her voice sounds so small.

“I promise.” He’s dazed by the shift, how did he end up being the one begged by Miss Hollywood herself? Perhaps he’s still drunker than he thought.

“It’s all any of us can do, Johnny,” she says, “but we’ve gotta try. You got your pinky up?”

“What?”

“For your oath- pinky swear.”

“You're not even here.” he laughs.

“I’ve got mine crooked, come on Major, meet me halfway.”

And so John Egan finds himself sporting a watery, helpless grin as he lifts his finger into thin air and crooks it around her imaginary little digit. Her sigh sounds as if she can feel it a ocean away. Perhaps he’s gone fully looney in the way he thinks he can, too.

He doubts she’ll appreciate his choices in the next few weeks, maybe even doubt his intention to keep his oath, but what matters is he’s going to try. Even if it’s an angry, furious, blind sort of determination, it keeps him firmly out of the London bus lane until Hobbs and his transport arrive and then it’s goodbye Jean Turner, hello again Thorpe Abbots.

Taglist: (I’m sorry for tagging y’all twice in a single day, oops)

@stylespresleyhearted

@ab4eva

@earth-to-lottie

@suraemoon

@blurredcolour

@steph-speaks

@crazymadpassionatelove

@rubyfruitjungle

@taestrwbrry

#mota fic #mota fanfic #masters of the air fanfiction #john egan #archive #mine #Dear John

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bwabbitv3s · 2 years ago

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Good Godfather Vlad AU

~I picture this as the timeline where Vlad goes to therapy after the disaster of the reunion where he sees his friends for the first time in ten years. He thinks it is going to be nothing but anger and hate towards Jack over how he ruined his life. Only for his friends he has not seen collage to ask him about why he never answered their letters they send him over the years.~

"What letters?" Vlad asks. His composure slipped a little at the unexpected revelation.

"Why all the ones we sent you while you were in the hospital. We were not allowed to visit as you were in intensive care which only allows family." Maddie tells Vlad.

"Yeah tried to get them to bend the rule but they would not budge. We attempted to break in three times that first week to visit you once you were stable." Jack says.

"The hospital banned us after that. Not the best decision we could have made but we just got stonewalled at every turn trying to find out how you were." Maddie says sadly.

"We sent you one everyday. You were in intensive care since we could not be there with you. Had to break into the dean's office to get your legal address so the redirection to the hospital would go through." Jack chatters away gesturing wildly. The punch nearly sloshed over in his cheap plastic cup.

Vlad feels like his stomach drops and the room is spinning. He remembers very little of the first week in the hospital. The crushing loneliness and pain as he came in and out the only clear memories. Never once does he remember any letters.

"I never received any letters." Vlad says softly.

"That can't be. We made sure to get them posted directly from the post office to ensure the address and postage was correct." Maddie answers then looks at Jack.

"Yeah we were worried that getting them sent to you in the hospital would be an issue and had the postal worker walk us through how to do it right." Jack says in a gentle voice.

How can it be that he never got any letters? Vlad would remember if he got one sign of his friends not abandoning him back then. He would never have refused to receive mail. Then like a slow motion train wreck he remembers an issue with the college.

"You got my address from the dean's office?" Vlad asks carefully. He hopes dearly that he had heard it wrong the first time.

"Picked the lock at midnight five days after you were hospitalized and broke into his records." Jack answers.

"Took a while to find your file as the filing cabinet was not alphabetized. Very unprofessional of him." Maddie says

"The Dean had my address wrong that year, seven was transcribed as one. It took weeks with the postal department's help to track down anything that was meant to be sent to me. The Undeliverable Mail Depot even had trouble finding anything that was meant to be sent to me." Vlad says in mounting dread.

"You never got any of our letters?" Jack asks.

"We had been sending letters to a non existing address the entire time." Maddie gasps. She starts to step forwards as if to hug him.

"I think I need to leave." Vlad stutters out. He hastily shoves a business card into Maddie's reaching hands. All he can focus on is the high pitch ringing in his ears as something inside him feels like it breaks.

"I need some time. You can use that to reach me later. I just can't right now." Vlad hastily says before Jack can stop him.

Vlad holes up in his hotel room the rest of the night on the phone with the hospital he had stayed at after the accident. It takes little time for him to get the right person and just a tiny bribe to get them to check the mail room for any lost letters without having to be there in person. He waits on hold for an hour before the answer comes through. An entire bankers box full of letters was tucked away in the back with an incorrect mailing address and smudged name. He pays an exuberant amount to get it priority shipped to him.

The next day he avoids everyone from the reunion. Using his powers to hide from the event planners and other graduates. His plans for revenge are dropped as a heavy package arrives at noon that day. With shaking hands he opens it and finds a years worth of faded letters sent to him after the accident.

Tears smudge the one written the day his friends got banned from the hospital. A blurry photo of Jack being escorted off the grounds by security officers is tucked into that letter. A giant teddy bear in neon blue in his hands.

Vlad cancels the next weeks meetings with his company and gets the board to deal with things for a bit. He calls up the ghosts he had hired and tells them the job is off and gives them payment in recompensation for it. Lastly he books a meeting with a therapist.

Now with a Part 2, Part 3, Part 4.

#danny phantom #good vlad au #Danny phantom Au #good godfather vlad #vlad gets therapy #vlad has an emotional breakdown in his hotel room #Jack and Maddie would do crime to make their friend feel better #letters get stuck in postal purgatory #I learned about the undeliverable mail depot for this #Vlad masters #Jack Fenton #Maddie Fenton #Danny fenton

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billlydear · 2 years ago

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pairing: billy hargrove x steve harrington / WC: 4501

summary: based on this post by @ariesbilly (i was anon), el shops rather creatively for billy's birthday and steve has some things to say about his new look

this will be crossposted on AO3 as soon as i've got the time to set up a new account there. i hope you enjoy, and please consider leaving some feedback! also, i've got a harringroveson spidey/venom au in the works, so please let me know if you'd like to see that :-)

Billy’s genuinely, truly concerned when Jim pulls him aside at his little birthday dinner, and not just because he’s still a tiny bit wary around the man. He hasn’t done anything awful yet, so far there’s not a bone in his body that resembles his dad’s, but Billy’s lived with Neil all his life, and Jim only a few months. He’s getting better, but he’s not there yet.

“Listen,” Jim murmurs, taking the hand he’d used to usher Billy into the kitchen off of his arm. Billy appreciates it, it’s like Jim knows he doesn’t like being grabbed; like he pays attention to Billy’s comfort.

“She’s come a long way,” Jim praises El, “-but gift giving for anyone but Max is… hard. She just shops for herself, it’s like-” Jim rubs an exasperated hand over the scruff on his chin, leaned up against the kitchen counter while Billy leans in slightly to hear his low voice, “It’s like she finds something she likes. And since she likes the person she’s giving it to, she equates the two. ‘Thinks that whatever she likes, they’ll like too. That’s why I drink out of that glittery cup every morning,” Jim gestures to the tumbler currently drying on the rack, ‘BFF’ written in white loopy letters on the plastic, “She’s got the spirit, just not the know-how. And I was really trying to get her to branch out for you, I took her to the mall but she beelined for Claire’s, and-” Jim sighs, shooting a cautious glance back to the living room where the girls are waiting with their gifts, “Just- please act like you like ‘em. If you want, I’ll give you the receipt, and you can return them for cash, just- humor her. Please.”

“Okay,” Is all Billy says, really all he can think of saying, and Jim reaches out to pat his bicep.

“Thanks,” His shoulders slump in relief, “Alright, birthday boy, let’s get going.”

Billy’s used to birthday gifts, but not nice ones. If he was lucky, he’d get gas money for the week from his dad, but that’s only because Susan insisted on acknowledging the day. Gifts have always been an obligation, never a gesture, so sitting on the couch in front of three tissue-paper-stuffed bags is a bit daunting for the man.

“Mine first,” Max demands, pushing her bag forward. Billy sends her what he hopes she perceives as a smile, a small twitch at the corners of his lips. They’ve gotten a lot better with each other now that Neil’s not goading Billy anymore, and Billy’s glad for it.

Inside there’s a gift card to a surf shop he’d worked at one summer back in California. He doesn’t even know if there’s anything on it - for all he knows, she found it in a box of his old stuff - but just seeing the logo of the place makes him nostalgic, and his barely-smile blooms into an unbridled one. The gift of memory is one he didn’t know he’d appreciate this much.

“Damn,” He huffs out a laugh, plucking the thin plastic out of the tissue, “Where’d you find this?”

“I wrote to my grandma,” Max confesses, “There’s 50 bucks on there, but for the record, all I sent her to put on there was 20.”

Billy remembers Max’s grandma; they’d visited her once. She was awesome, but the kind of awesome that made parents distrust her, and contact was lost after the move to Hawkins. The old lady had crammed Billy and Max into the back of her cluttered bug to get ice cream after Neil and Susan had gone to bed, and it was nice for Billy to hear she was still doing well.

“Thanks,” Billy laughs, almost a scoff as he reaches out to ruffle her hair. She pretends to hate it, maybe she does a little, but she lets him, which is like another birthday gift: Annoying Privileges.

He sees a flash of black as he puts the gift card back in the tissue, and it explains why the tiny plastic was wrapped so excessively.

Don’t show Hopper, the note reads, with an arrow down, so he discretely peels away the paper to find three cartons of cigarettes beneath it. He’ll worry about how she got them later, for now he shoots her a smirk that she returns.

“Alright, mine’s kinda-” Jim fumbles for his bag, “-tied into hers. Here, kid.”

The tissue crinkles under Billy’s fingers, and he peers down into the blue bag to see a paper.

He pulls it out, squinting at the fine print.

It’s a hotel booking. A hotel in California, shit, right by the beach.

“I already called you off of work,” Jim smiles at Billy, “It’s about a month from now. Only condition is you take the girls with you, they’ve got their own room and we’ll send ‘em with gas money.”

Max’s grin is bright, and Billy knows this is just as much of a gift for her as it is for him. His chest feels tight, like each word on the page had sucked air out of his lungs until there was none left, and now he’s struggling to breathe. He’s wanted to go back since the moment he left, but his dad never would have let him, and moving in with Jim and El then immediately fleeing the state seemed rude, so he’s grateful for the push. He doesn’t even know how to begin thanking Jim, so he starts with the words themselves.

“Thank you,” Billy croaks, trying not to let a gush of emotions overwhelm him. “Seriously, I-” His voice wavers and he clamps his mouth shut, looking down and pinching his fingers along the folded crease of the paper to thin it down even more, “Thank you, Jim.”

“Don’t mention it,” Jim reaches out again, gives him that little pat pat to the bicep instead of trying to hug him. Billy thinks just for that, he will let Jim hug him next time.

Once Billy’s regained his composure and only let one gruff sniffle slip, El is handing over her bag.

“Mine was not as much money as theirs,” She looks serious, like Billy’s going to backhand her for not renting them an RV for the trip, “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Jim starts, ready to console her and teach her an etiquette lesson, but Billy lets out a weak chuckle.

“Don’t worry about it, El.” He tugs at the tissue paper, “One time I wrote I.O.U. on a piece of paper for Max’s birthday.”

El’s brows furrow at the unfamiliar phrase, and Max leans in, “It means I owe you, like, ‘I owe you one’. He didn’t get me anything.”

“I offered you something,” Billy gripes, pausing in his unwrapping efforts, “Not my fault you chucked it out.”

“Oh, no,” Max laughs, “I still have it. But I wasn’t gonna waste it on arcade tokens. I’m gonna make it count, you’re gonna bail me out of a bad party or lie to the cops about-”

She reconsiders, looking at Hopper who’s stiffened slightly, his eyes narrowed at her, “-Nothing. Lying to cops is bad.”

“Nice save,” Billy deadpans, ducking his head back down towards the bag. The tissue inside is messy, he can tell El did it herself.

Beneath the first layer of tissue, the stuff crumpled up to give the present volume, there’s six individually wrapped packages. Billy’s stomach does a little flip; call it nerves, call it endearment, but whatever it is, he reaches for the first package without paying it any mind.

His fingers peel at the tape sticking it all together, and his strong grip rips the tissue. He goes with it, tearing into the gift, and a purple plastic card falls into his hand. It’s punched in two places near the middle, and inside each hole is an earring. They’re- not his style.

They’re studs, little balls of gel in rainbow colors with squishy spikes sticking out of them. They honestly look like something a kindergartener would make with a hot glue gun, but there’s an expectant smile on El’s face and Billy finds himself smiling back at her, genuinely so.

“Thanks, El,” He flips the package over, price tag ripped off messily and silver backings staring at him, “These are cool.”

“I know you like earrings. There’s more,” She prompts him, the section of her hair that she’s tied up bouncing as she leans forward enthusiastically, “Open them.”

“Okay,” He laughs, setting the earrings aside. The second package yields another pair, this time two pieces of bread with little smiley faces on them, one painted brown for peanut butter and the other purple for jelly.

“That’s cute,” Billy laughs breathily, “That’ll go good with my purple button up.”

“Mhm,” El nods, hair once again bouncing, “That’s what I thought.”

As Billy expects, each package contains a pair of earrings. He gets tiny springs, a gradient of pink to purple to blue covering the curved metal, and they look like they’d be permanently damaged if he stretched them out even once. Then a pair of jellyfish-inspired ones, a clay head with a smile on its face connected by metal rings to all of the tentacles dangling below. Next are lollipops, stiff sticks leading into plastic that’s swirled in design and shaped like a bear’s head with yet another smiley face. Each little black curve on the earrings’ faces only makes his own grow. The fifth pair are meant to look like goldfish, suspended in resin that fills the bowl to make it look like they’re swimming in water. It’s the most intricate pair of earrings he’s ever seen, he’ll give Claire that. The final pair is much bigger than the others, and when he unwraps it, a pom-pom sticks out.

They’re big puffballs, tie-dyed pink and purple, connected to a peace sign stud that goes through his ear. They’re obnoxious, something you’d only see on a child whose grandparents had bought the biggest pair of earrings they could find because their vision was too poor to appreciate any smaller designs. Nevertheless, Billy pops the squishy backing off of one of them, and sticks it between his teeth. He slips his own earring out of his ear, and tucks it into the breast pocket of the shirt he’s wearing. He sticks the puffball into his ear right then and there, and El’s grin is almost unbearably wide.

“It looks pretty,” She gushes, and Billy laughs.

“Thank you, El.” He gives her the obligatory brotherly hair ruffle as well, but she looks honored compared to Max’s exasperation. In leaning forwards to reach her, the metal point of the second earring digs into Billy’s palm where he’s holding the card still, and he glances down at it thoughtfully.

“Here,” He thinks fast, plucking the backing off of it and handing it to El, “Let’s match.”

She looks at it wide-eyed, caught off guard, “You want me to wear the other one?”

“Duh,” He nods, hand still outstretched, “How else are people gonna know who bought them for me?”

She’s more than happy to snatch the second earring from him, sliding it into her own pierced ear and shivering slightly at the feeling of the fluff brushing against her skin.

“Alright,” Jim claps, a loud, striking sound, “You guys look great. Cake time?”

“Cake time,” Max agrees, already rising to her knees to stand and head for the kitchen, “Chocolate, Billy, your favorite.”

Billy’s all Thank you’d out. Not because he’s not thankful for this, because he’s more than that, but because he’s said it so many times today that the words are starting to lose their meaning, and he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to be insincere, so he’ll save the ‘Thank you’s for when they really count.

Max and El settle on the floor in front of the tv to watch the movie they’ve picked out, clearly one that Jim hadn’t seen until now.

“Oh, not Terminator,” He reaches for the television to shut it off, but both girls scramble to fight him off, “It’s rated R, girls!”

“It’s Billy’s favorite,” Max huffs, and that’s not true, but he knows nothing in the movie will shock her, and El grew up being bounced around dimensions, so she probably won’t lose any sleep over a bit of blood.

“It’s true,” Billy drawls settling back on the couch with his cake and his beer (that Jim only reluctantly handed him because it’s his birthday), “But it’s fine, Jim, we don’t have to watch what I want, they can turn on My Little Pony or some shit.”

Jim wonders briefly how he’s been outsmarted by two tweens and a teenager. If he says no, he’s the asshole that ruins Billy’s birthday. If he says yes, the girls are going to see gratuitous shots of naked Arnold Schwarzenegger that he’d rather them not witness.

“You cover your eyes for the first scene,” Jim finally concedes, narrowing his eyes at Max and El, “I mean it, no peeking or I’ll do it for you.”

“Okay,” They agree, already far too amused for Jim’s liking, and Max turns to grin mischievously at Billy. It’s nice, he thinks, to do dumb shit with her. Like real siblings.

The movie starts, and Jim’s a bit too preoccupied eagle-eyeing the girls to make sure they’re not seeing anything raunchy to notice that Billy’s paying more attention than he ought to be. But once the man straightens back up so does Billy, mentally so, and turns his attention to Jim when he leans over towards Billy.

“Hey,” Jim’s whisper is gruff, but El doesn’t hear, “Thanks for that. She’s really happy.”

“No problem,” Billy admits, “They’re… different, but they’re kinda cool.”

Jim laughs, and Billy gets the sense that Jim doesn’t think he’s being sincere, but really, he is. The earrings themselves aren’t kinda cool, a year ago he’d rather have pitched himself into the quarry than wear rainbow-colored springs dangling from his ears, or a smiley piece of peanut butter toast, but what’s kinda cool is that someone gave them to him because they thought he’d like them; because they like him.

What’s kinda cool is love, Billy figures out that night, and his cake tastes a little sweeter because of it.

El doesn’t usually accompany Billy to work at the auto shop, but that’s only because he leaves too early for her to be awake yet. She’s recently discovered sleeping in, and sometimes she’s not awake before two in the afternoon. Now, though, she’s bursting with excitement for the California trip, even though it’s not for another month. Billy hadn’t slept with the puffball earring in, but he’d put it right back on this morning, and so had El. They’re sitting behind the counter now, planning an itinerary for the trip he’s not too stressed about, because he knows El will lose the paper before they leave in a month.

“And we have to go to In-n-Out,” She decides, “I know those are in California.”

“Yeah,” Billy laughs, “They’re not that good. I mean, I like ‘em, but there’s good burger places everywhere. They have these palm trees though,” He moves his hands to cross over each other, “They cross like an ‘x’, it’s pretty cool. My friend tried to climb one once, we got kicked out.”

El giggles, and her eyes wrinkle at the corners with the expression. Billy likes it, he wonders if his own eyes scrunch when he laughs. But he doesn’t do it very often, and especially not in front of a mirror, so he might never know.

She excuses herself to go to the bathroom, so Billy turns his attention to their customer log instead. There’s a man coming by in two hours to pick up his car, but the repairs are complete, so Billy doesn’t have to do anything about it. And there’s another customer coming at five for an oil change, but it’s only eight in the morning. He hears the scrape of wheels on gravel, and he cranes his neck to see over the reception desk and out the door.

Fuck. It’s a red beemer, one he knows almost better than his own car because of how frequently he’d crammed his camaro in beside it in the high school parking lot. It’s Steve Harrington’s car, and that means Steve Harrington came with it.

Billy tugs on the hem of his tank, tightening the shirt over his chest. It’s not that he wants to look good for Steve, it’s just- well, no, that’s it. The banter he’d shared with Steve over their time at Hawkins High was the most tension he’d felt in his entire life, and it came at a time when he sought thrill and excitement the most; apparently being sweat-covered, shirtless opponents on the basketball court does things to a man’s head. He’s not naive enough to think he’s gonna be able to sweep the guy off of his feet with one suave remark, not when just last week Max had somehow convinced the man to give her a ride back home from Jim’s place after a sleepover, and Steve had seen Billy bleary-eyed, messy-haired, and pajama-clad. He’d tried to own it, leaned back on the couch with his legs spread, one arm up on the back of the couch and exposed by the shirt he was wearing as he nodded with a lazy grin at Steve, ‘Morning, Harrington’. If he’d squinted, he could see a bit of pink coloring Steve’s cheeks. But a success or not, the experience was embarrassing, and he’s glad that he’s a little more put together today.

Billy forgets just how put together he is today. He feels the soft brush of the fuzzy earring against his neck right as Steve starts towards the store, and his stomach drops.

He has a very important choice to make.

He can take the earring out, giving him a better chance at this coy little game they have going, and subsequently insult his new sister, or, he could leave it in, puff up his chest with pride, and greet Steve with confidence, ultimately risking his win.

He almost tears his ear from how hard he rips the earring out.

“Harrington,” Billy drawls, “Car trouble?”

“Battery’s dead,” The man huffs, and there’s sweat beading at Steve’s hairline, “I had to push’er down the street, I was getting groceries.”

Billy feels like a cartoon character; he almost audibly gulps at the thought of Steve muscling his car down the road. He wonders if Steve could see his Adam’s apple bobbing if he really did dry swallow. He wonders if Steve would watch.

“Tough luck,” Billy sends Steve a lazy grin, passing the sign-in book over the counter with a pen, “Just fill that out, I’ll get your service started.”

“Thanks,” Steve mumbles, “Got an estimate?”

“Depends,” Billy shrugs, “I might do you a favor and replace those ugly seats you’ve got, too. That’ll cost extra.”

“Like your car’s hot shit,” Steve scoffs, but his tone isn’t demeaning, and Billy’s chest does that weird tight thing again when he realizes they’ve advanced to friendly banter, “Do you know how ugly that blue and yellow license plate looks against the blue of your car?”

He laughs, but before Billy can quip back, say that it’s California grade, that he’d rather die than replace it, the door to the back opens up, and El comes out.

“Steve!” She smiles sweetly, “Is your car broken?”

“Yeah,” He laments, eyeing her accessory, “Woah, crazy earring.”

“Billy has one, too.” She brags, then notices it’s missing from his ear. Billy’s stiffened where he’s rifling through the desk drawers for a form to give Steve, and before he can make any excuses, El spots the puffball where it’s fallen to the floor.

“Oh!” She lunges for it, handing it to Billy with a sweet smile, “It fell out. Here it is.”

Billy has another choice to make.

Scoff at her, say ‘nice one’, and tell her to put her earring back in. Or, take it from her and embarrass himself in front of Steve.

This time, he decides she’s ultimately more important.

“Thanks, El.” He grins at her, taking the puffball from her hand and hooking it expertly through his ear. It dangles against his neck, and he passes the form over to Steve who’s looking between the two of them with some sort of guarded amusement.

“Fill this out, too.” Billy instructs, “And I’ll start on your car.”

“O-kay,” Steve complies, more of that amusement painting his features as he ducks his head to fill out the form, “Pink looks good on you, Hargrove.”

Billy shuts the door to the back room as a response. He feels like punching the wall, because did that mean ‘good’ as in good? Or good as in ‘ridiculous’? He’s well aware Steve had a mean streak in high school, and Billy isn’t interested in being bullied.He’s never worried about being bullied by his peers before, he was always on top. Now it’s different, this isn’t high school and he doesn’t have backup boys to make his posse. It’s a one-on-one fight, and Steve’s got the advantage. And- and if it did mean good, what’s he supposed to do with that information? Wear a pink shirt the next time he sees Steve? Go as Pink Panther for halloween? He considers just about everything but dying his hair, mind swirling with possibilities.

He starts on Steve’s car to distract himself, and he barely manages to gather the courage to take his shirt off to push Steve’s beemer into the garage like he’d originally planned. He still does, of course. But it’s a hard decision to make.

“Steve,” El steps out from behind the counter, walking over to where Steve’s flipping through an old Highlights that Billy’s boss keeps there for kids, “What did you get Billy for his birthday?”

The man flounders, “Uh, when’s his birthday?”

El’s brows furrow, “It was yesterday. You didn’t get him anything?”

“No,” Steve shakes his head, “Sorry, El. I’m sure he didn’t expect me to, though, ‘probably didn’t hurt his feelings.”

“But friends give each other birthday presents.” She insists, “Why didn’t you?”

“He’s not my friend,” Steve grimaces slightly, but backtracks when El only gets more scandalized, “We- I… Ugh,’ He groans, rubbing a hand down his face, “We, like, hated each other in high school or something. I think he’s only nice to me now ‘cause he has to be, we’re all friendly, y’know?”

“Billy likes you,” El promises, “That’s why he comes out of his room when he knows you’re coming over. And why he always takes us to get ice cream. He likes seeing you.”

“Uh, I think-” Steve stammers, heart pounding so viciously he can hear it, “That’s probably… not what that means. Hey, um, do you have any water I could have? I’m really thirsty from pushing my car.”

He’s out from under her scrutinous gaze for long enough to compose himself, tamping down any hope she might have given him. It doesn’t help that he’s first heard Billy’s genuine laugh today, and the vision of the man’s bright eyes, scrunched and wrinkled at the corners have been plaguing him ever since. Things need to stop piling up, he decides.

When she gets back she sits in the chair beside him, one leg bent beneath her and the other firmly planted on the floor, “You should get him a birthday present.”

Steve hums, bringing the cup she hands him to his lips to buy him time to respond. Eventually, he settles on, “I’ll try to find something,” and she seems to like that answer, so she lets it go.

“I got him earrings,” She explains, and pieces of the puzzle start to fall into place in Steve’s head, “The ones that he’s wearing now. And five other pairs.”

“Wow,” Steve nods, feigning awe even though he knows Jim probably paid for them himself, “That was nice of you. He liked ‘em?”

“Yes,” She nods, “He likes earrings. And he said he’s going to wear them with me when we go to California.”

“California,” Steve echoes, brows raised, “That’s nice. When are you going?”

“In a month,” El recites, “Billy’s from California.”

“Yeah,” Steve nods, eyes drawn to Billy’s framed employee picture on the wall, noticing the tan adorning the smooth skin of his handsome face, “I know.”

“Okay,” Billy turns to look at the girls in his backseat, bright smiles on both of their faces, “Gas money?”

“Check,” Max slides him a wad of cash, and so does El.

“Snacks?” Billy pulls his wallet out, stuffing the bills inside.

“Check!” El takes over this time, a plastic bag in her hand that’s filled with enough ziploc bags of goldfish to last them halfway through the road trip.

“Bags?”

“Check,” Max jabs a thumb towards the camaro’s trunk, “We didn’t forget our suitcases, Billy.”

“If you did, and I hadn’t asked, you would have blamed me,” Billy narrows his eyes at his stepsister, “Don’t make me push you out of the moving car.”

What can he say: things are better, they’re not perfect. She knows he’s joking, though, she sticks out her tongue in response.

“I have one more thing,” El calls, effectively breaking up Billy and Max’s banter. The two look curiously at her, and she passes Billy an envelope, thick towards the bottom left corner.

“It’s a late birthday present.” She informs him, “Open it. It’s for the trip.”

“El,” Billy tears at the envelope with a confused furrow in his brow, “You got me stuff for my birthday. Why more?”

“It’s not from me,” She admits, “Just open it.”

The envelope was sealed well, by whoever sealed it. Billy all but mangles the paper to remove its contents, and when he does, a pair of earrings falls out, mounted on a purple plastic card. Claire’s.

There’s a pink and white striped surfboard on the left side, and a glitter-covered palm tree on the left. There’s a note inside too, and Billy peels it apart much more cautiously than he had the envelope.

Billy,

Happy birthday. Enjoy California.

- Steve

P.S: I wasn’t kidding. You look good in pink.

Billy nearly rips the earring card trying to wrench the surfboard off. Once he gets it out, he slides it into his ear, passing the palm tree back to El and grinning at the girls through his rear-view mirror. He admires the way that the earring looks against his tanned skin, and- oh, look at that; his eyes do scrunch when he smiles.

“Ready?” He raises a brow, sunglasses perched on his head and lost in his curls in wait of the California sun.

“Ready,” They confirm, and El’s nod sends the palm tree earring swinging beside her face.

Billy revs the engine, and it’s never been a happier sound, “California, here we come.”

#harringrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #steve harrington x billy hargrove #harringrove fanfiction #billy x steve #billy hargrove #billy and el #billy and max #billy and hopper

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the-badger-mole · 1 year ago

Text

The Other Woman: Part 5

In the end, Zuko decided that a letter was the least intrusive way to contact Katara. He'd handwritten at least ten drafts of varying lengths- one reaching eight pages before he'd decided that was excessive. In the end he had the envelope messengered over to Katara's apartment by a third party service both to keep her from feeling like he was involving one of their friends on his behalf and to maintain the distance she'd implicitly requested from him. His final draft was written on cream-colored card stock and delivered with a bouquet of panda lilies. He'd distilled his plea into two short lines.

I'm sorry. Can we talk?

He hadn't expected to hear anything the day he sent the letter. On the second day, his nerves began to get the better of him as he checked his phone every five or so minutes for a missed call or message. On the third day, he berated himself for not saying more in his letter. On the fourth day, he resigned himself to Katara's silence. On the fifth day, despair settled around him like a rain-soaked coat. On the sixth day, his phone lit up with a message.

Can we meet this week?

The diner Katara chose was one they'd stumbled into before late one night after celebrating the birthday of one of their friends a bit too hard. They'd split a custard tart while waiting for a cab. They'd talked about coming back a few times, but they never got around to it. It was a neutral enough spot for them to meet this day.

After the waiter had seated them in a far corner booth at Katara's request, and brought them their coffee and tea respectively, they sat in awkward silence. Katara held her hands clasped around her mug, not meeting Zuko's eye as she waited for him to say something. Zuko took a sip of his tea (some awful bagged stuff that hit his tongue with an acrid, murky taste that lingered), and took a deep breath.

"I owe you an apology," Zuko said. Katara looked up expectantly, her face giving away nothing. "I...I should have stood up for you to my mother. I have no excuse to give you except that I hadn't been paying attention to how unhealthy my relationship with her had gotten."

Katara pulled her lip in between her teeth and her brow furrowed. Zuko could almost hear her thoughts, but it didn't seem like she was ready to speak them.

"I-I spoke to my mom," he told her. "I let her know that I need space from her." Zuko took a deep breath. "I know this doesn't make up for how I've let her treat you, but...I just wanted you to know that I get it. I get why you broke up with me. I would love another chance to prove that I'll have your back against anyone, her included. But I get if that ship has sailed. I guess I just thought you deserved to know that something...I don't know....productive? came from this."

"Why did it take me leaving?" Katara's voice cracked slightly. It startled Zuko, who was beginning to think she would say nothing at all.

"I...I," he stammered. "I was afraid she'd leave again. I was never afraid of you leaving. I knew how much you cared for me, and I took that for granted. I know it's an awful explanation, and I should have listened when you told me before how you felt. I should have told you what I felt. We were supposed to be on the same team, and I let you feel like an outsider." Katara blinked rapidly against the tears that sprang up in her eyes.

"What did she say?" Katara asked. Zuko felt the heat rush to his cheeks again. It would be easier, he thought, if his face would just remain red in shame forever. It would make his scar less prominent, anyway.

"Well..." he said, cringing, "she thought you were pregnant and told me to get a paternity test." Katara snorted derisively and Zuko bowed his head apologetically. "I told her that I needed space, and then I left. She's reached out since, but I haven't responded yet. I've got her text messages in archive. I know I have to speak to her again, and soon, but I needed to take some time to sort out my thoughts." Katara cleared her throat and leaned forward slightly, her elbows resting on the table. Her face gave little away and Zuko wasn't sure how to read what little did come through.

"And what are your thoughts?" she asked.

"I think... I think I screwed up," Zuko confessed. "Not just with you. When I found my mom again, I was twenty. I didn't know what I was doing with my life, and I hadn't spoken to my father in years. Uncle was great, but when I found my mom again, I guess I regressed. I made so many decisions based around her. I turned down a great job because I would be too far from her. And it's not that I regret my life here- I wouldn't have met you if I'd taken that other job- but I gave up too much to be around my mom. I tried to force something instead of letting our relationship grow naturally. I know a lot of it had to do with her insisting she needed me here, and having a panic attack anytime I mentioned doing anything that would take me away from her, but at the end of the day, I'm a grown man, and I need to take responsibility for my own actions. Or...inactions." Katara nodded, taking in a few shallow breaths as she bit down on the inside of her lips.

"I thought you agreed with her about me," Katara said, wiping a couple of stray tears from her cheeks. "I thought that was why you didn't stop her, even after all the arguments we'd had about it. That night...I heard you and her talking in the kitchen-"

"I know," Zuko said, wincing.

"I heard what she said about me," Katara continued. "And I heard you say nothing to her. Nothing. I thought, there's no way this man can love me the way he says he does and not speak up when someone says something like that to his face."

"I'm so sorry," Zuko murmured. He ran his hands over is face. "I am so, so sorry."

"I understand why you clung to her," Katara sighed. "I do. If I had another chance to have my mom... I don't know. I never wanted to come between you and her, but you were supposed to talk to her about it. You were supposed to get her to stop treating me that way. I'm just so tired of arguing with you about her."

Silence hung across the table, and the tension was so heavy that the waiter paused in his journey to get their orders and went back behind the counter.

"You deserve more," Zuko said. "I'm sorry I lost sight of that. And thank you for coming to speak with me today. I-I know you didn't owe me closure."

"How do you know you won't slip back?" Katara's question caught Zuko off guard. He stared at her blankly for a moment before he gathered himself.

"I...guess I don't, really," he admitted. "I have a meeting with a therapist set up to help me work through this thing with Mom. I wanted to have a session before I talk to her again. If she doesn't respect the boundaries I'm trying to set, I'll go low contact with her. Uncle's already volunteered to buffer. Kiyi's going off to college soon, so I won't have to worry about Mom using her for leverage. I see the problem now, and all I can do is work on it. She's my mom, and I love her. I still want her in my life, but I don't ever want to get to this point again.

"You're not doing this just to get me back?" Katara's eyes were sharp. She almost looked angry, but Zuko recognized the signs that she was guarding herself.

"No," he replied firmly. "I still love you, and if there's any hope of you giving me a second chance, I'll take it. In a heartbeat. But I need to do this for me. Because even if this is the last time I see you, I want to be better for myself." Katara swallowed hard and nodded her head.

"It could be a while," she said. "It could take years for you to sort out your issues with your mom. There is a lot to unpack. A lot."

"I know," Zuko's mouth thinned grimly. "But I need to do it. And who knows, maybe my mom will follow my lead and finally get therapy herself. Ikem's told me he's been encouraging her to go for years." Katara let out a mirthless chuckle. Then she sighed and sank back into her seat.

"I still love you," she admitted. "I'm pissed at you, and I don't know if I want to marry you, but I do love you." Zuko wanted to run with that. He wanted to beg her to give him another chance and to take his ring back. Still, he held his tongue, determined not to pressure her. After a moment, Katara rewarded his patience.

"I don't think we should be engaged," she told him. Zuko flinched. "Not right now. I think we both need space to figure things out. But...maybe someday...like in a few months, after you're settled with therapy and have a chance to start working through things. Maybe we could try again? Just dating for a while. We can...we can see if we still work together?"

"And to see if I make good on standing up to my mom?" Zuko added with a weak laugh.

"Is that okay with you?" Katara asked. Zuko hesitated, just for a moment, before he reached out and took Katara's hand.

"That's more than I dared to hope."

"Are you folks ready to order?" The pair turned to find their waiter standing awkwardly at the end of the table. Katara met Zuko's eyes and smiled slightly.

"How about a custard tart?" she suggested. "To share."

The End

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

#atla #zutara #the other woman #part 5 #finale!#THE YEAR OF CONTENT!!!!

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five-rivers · 2 years ago

Text

The Soul Trade(ing Card Game) Chapter 2

As was dictated to me by the poll, I have delivered.

(AO3)

“So, uh, Batman,” said Constantine, hating everything about this, “I’ve gotta ask you something.”

“Hn,” said Batman, and Constantine understood he had the man’s whole attention, even though he didn’t look away from the screens arrayed before him. Monitor duty. Constantine was glad the Justice League Dark didn’t have to do that.

(At least, he thought they didn’t. If anyone had ever told him they did, he had promptly forgotten about it.)

“I need you to look into whoever left me this letter.” He dropped the letter on the desk next to Batman and flexed his hands. Yeah, the magic in it was sure something, but it was passive, as far as he could tell, traces picked up from being around something infinitely nastier. It was safe. Probably. It hadn’t blasted any of the people who had handled it between the desk in the Hall of Justice and the Watchtower, anyway.

Batman glanced up only briefly before taking the letter. He read it, quickly, without his posture changing at all.

“Hm,” he said, the tone of the grunt just slightly more contemplative. “Are the claims in this letter legitimate?”

“Well,” said Constantine, “let’s just say that reading it felt like…” His face twisted as he tried to find the words to describe what it had felt like. “Yeah. Even if this bloke doesn’t have everything he says he does, he has… a lot. There are traces on the letter, magically speaking.”

“What’s the effect of that?”

“God if I know,” said Constantine. “I didn’t even notice this. At least, he could go ahead and cast whatever spells on me he wants. Soul’s a lot more intimate.”

With a press of a button, the screens went dark. “You shouldn’t be up here if you’re compromised.”

“Hey, I didn’t even know about this until ten minutes ago!”

“Return to ground.” Batman stood and loomed over him. “I’ll look into who sent this letter and tell you my findings.”

That was probably the best Constantine was going to get. Honestly, he didn’t even want to be on this glorified deathtrap in the sky.

He didn’t like the feeling of getting kicked out, though.

“I’m going to need the letter back. I’ve got my own tests to run on it. Get an idea of what kind of nasty we’re dealing with. Magic stuff.”

Batman handed it back. “I’ll walk you to the Zeta Tubes.”

“What do you mean someone bought your soul?” asked Zatanna. “I thought you’d already sold it ages ago.”

“Yeah, but I guess souls can be resold. Should’ve realized that demons would try to replicate the whole banking hellscape we have here.”

“Pardon?”

“Nevermind,” said Constantine, letting himself sprawl backwards in the chair. It leaned dangerously, the weak leg bending. “I did sell it. I sold it a bunch. Got it set up so no one could really claim it without the others freaking out. Set some time limits on a few earlier ones, that worked pretty well, but, eventually, that didn’t work anymore, no one would bargain for that, and I figured my soul was pretty much a lost cause anyway…” He tucked his hands in his pockets and fingered the lid of his flask.

“Don’t you dare start drinking while I’m here.”

He hauled himself forward. “Far as I can tell, what’s written in the letter is true, as far as the owning part goes. The whole sorry bit and the let’s meet bit, I’m less clear on.”

He did have some thoughts on how to deal with it. But he wasn’t sure how well it’d work, and the guy - if it even was a guy - was a complete unknown.

He shrugged. “I was hoping for a second opinion.” And maybe a bit of… comfort. Something. It felt like the only time he saw Zatanna anymore was if the Justice Morons were poking at stuff no one sane would come close to with a ten foot pole.

(He missed her.)

(He missed when they used to be an item.)

(Which was stupid of him. But he’d never claimed not to be.)

(She wanted to keep things professional though, so. He’d try.)

Zatanna paced around the table. It was clear except for the letter, Constantine having expended much effort into cleaning it off (dumping it onto the nearest alternate flat-ish surface, the seat of a sagging armchair).

“I don’t know how much more I can tell you. There’s magic here, but it’s traces, and it’s… muddled. Do you mind?”

“Go ahead, love.” So much for being professional. Sue him. Some things just slipped out.

Zatanna nodded, evidently not even noticing. “Laever ruoy sterces,” she said, staring intensely at the letter. She shook her head. “Laever sesruc. No, no curses, at least. That’s a relief?”

“Yeah, I guess. But he doesn’t exactly need to curse me through a letter if he’s got everything he says he’s got.”

“Don’t give up just yet. Let me try a few other things. Ezylana eht snigiro fo eht lacigam secart no sight retter. Wow, huh.”

“What?”

“Well, like I said, there are all sorts of magical traces on this thing. Demon magic, which is expected, bits of yours, some of the ambient stuff the Watchtower picks up… but there’s also a lot of spirit magic.”

“You think we’re dealing with some kind of shaman? A summoner?” In addition to demons and whatever else, that was.

“Maybe,” said Zatanna. “There’s death, here, too, but I can’t tell if it’s outright death magic or necromancy.”

Constantine groaned. “The difference is academic. I’m screwed. S’pose I should be grateful or something he didn’t hit me with a compulsion to show up and grovel in front of him, felt the need to give me a heads up before he tortures me for sport or whatever necromancers do for fun.”

Zatanna made a face, but it was very telling that she didn’t deny it was a possibility.

“Just promise me you won’t go looking for this person on your own.”

“Yeah, I’ve got the Bat on it. You know him. Tall scary guy. World famous detective. About as boring as he is scary with all his rules.”

“That’s not what I meant,” said Zatanna. “You’re going to need magical backup for this. Call me. Or at least someone who knows what they’re doing.”

The opposite of what he wanted to do, really. People died often enough around him without actively dragging them into his problems, and this was a massive problem.

“Can’t make any promises.”

Because Constantine couldn’t really do anything else about the letter or its contents (besides scream inside his head and swear at himself), he decided to go about business as usual. Exorcisms, investigations, a touch of vampire stabbing, a few (disappointingly dry) ghost hunts. Normal stuff.

At least, it was normal until the demons started to run away from him. They didn’t usually do that, not even the weak ones. He did have a reputation, but not one like that. His reputation was that of a cheat and a con… and someone who got people close to him killed. None of that really put off bloodthirsty demons, who were a right pain to genuinely kill, and who often as not had some connection to old Lucy.

But they were running now, and not just the weaker ones. They weren’t even fighting him. Not getting hellfire tossed at him was nice, but demons were not nice. Ever.

So, what could he do but catch one?

He walked around the circle, double checking to make sure the scuffle with the little imp hadn’t scuffed any lines. He’d made mistakes like that before, and they were never pretty.

“So,” he said, lighting a cigarette, “what’s a demon like you running from little old me for?”

The demon, predictably, hissed at him. Constantine rolled his eyes. Typical.

“I’m going to ask you again, and if you don’t answer, things are going to get real unpleasant for you.” He pointed at those circle. “Read ‘em, if you don’t believe me.”

The demon arched itself like a cat, which was an interesting choice seeing as it wasn’t at all cat shaped.

“You were chasing us, John Constantine,” it said in a deep voice that belayed its size.

“Yeah, and that’s usually your lot’s cue to turn around and jump me. What’s different?”

The demon laughed, unpleasant and high-pitched like a teakettle coming to a boil. “What’s different? What’s different? John Constantine, you know what’s different.”

“Humor me here.”

It chuckled and started pacing around the inside of the circle. “Who owns you, John Constantine?” it asked in a silky voice. “Where is your soul, John Constantine? Not with you. Not with the First of the Fallen. Not with any of the princes of hell, or any god in its palace. Who owns you, John Constantine?”

“What, you’re saying that just because Lucy doesn’t have dibs on me when I die anymore, none of you are interested? Try the other one, it has bells on it.”

“Fool!” shouted the demon, now sounding disturbingly human. “Fool! Fool! A fool you are, but we are not, oh, no. No, no, no, we are not. What manner of thing could steal from them? What manner of thing could satisfy so many demons? What manner of thing could have such essence that it clings to you even now? Who owns you, John Constantine?”

Those were some good goddamn questions. “You’ve got a name for me, or is this you saying you don’t actually know, you’re just so freaked by the idea of it you’re shaking in your boots? Scales. Whatever.”

“Do not mock us, John Constantine,” it said, back to sounding properly demonic. “We are no fool! We know you will suffer.”

Yeah, well, that was just the natural state of the universe, wasn’t it? In any case, it didn’t look like this little punk had any idea what it was talking about. They didn’t tend to be very bright, just smart enough to parrot what they overheard from more powerful demons and dumb enough to give up information when threatened with basic binding spells.

He banished the imp back to Hell with a twist of his fingers.

So. Whoever or whatever had gotten their hands on Constantine’s soul, they were scary enough that demons didn’t want to draw its attention by getting involved with Constantine. Which was. Yeah. Not great. Story of his life.

He’d known that they’d have to be nasty, sure. They’d have to be, to get all of Constantine’s contracts. Constantine hadn’t sold his soul to just anybody. Those first three bastards especially had power. Hell, they’d cured his terminal lung cancer. Partially to avoid a war but mostly to be petty.

Admittedly, after that, he hadn’t been quite so discerning. Or careful about the wording. But he knew that so long as old Lucy had his eyes on him and a finger on his soul, no one would dare collect.

A lot of good that did, in the end.

Who would Lucifer trade with? Why would he give up the right to torture Constantine eternally post-mortem?

Constantine was getting sick of not knowing. He was tempted to just go to that meeting spot, but without more information, that would be unforgivably stupid. Constantine was not stupid. Usually.

His Justice League communicator (foisted on him by the Bat) pinged obnoxiously at the bottom of one of his pockets. He’d forgotten it was in this coat. He sorted through his pockets crossly as it pinged again. It had better be important. He found it under a crumpled bag of crisps and yanked it out with a spray of crumbs.

“What?” he said, shortly.

“Constantine,” came Batman’s deep, gravelly rumble. “I have news.”

Well, crap. “You gonna share that news this century?”

“It would be better to discuss this in-person. You do not have a secure computer.”

“Jesus,” said Constantine. He would have argued, but, technically, Batman was doing him a favor. “Fine, you paranoid maniac. Where?”

‘Where’ turned out to be a low-risk interrogation room in the Hall of Justice. Constantine was not a fan of this arrangement, but he understood it. He was compromised, or whatever, and the interrogation rooms were private and had video screens.

On the other hand, it was in America, and even Zeta Tubes couldn’t help with jetlag. And, worse, it was nonsmoking.

Batman personally escorted him to the room, and turned on the main screen with a remote control. Pictures of a pale-skinned teen with blue eyes and black hair sprung up. School pictures, mostly, but some looked like ID pictures, one was on the cover of a magazine, and another looked like an avatar in a video game.

“Do you recognize this boy?”

“One of your kids?” asked Constantine.

“Answer the question.”

“No, I don’t know him. Should I?”

“He’s the one who dropped the letter off.”

“You’re joking.”

In answer, Batman clicked the remote again, bringing up surveillance videos of the Hall of Justice’s main desk taken from various angles. The clips started off looking normal, the overly clear, expensive footage characteristic of an organization associated with Batman.

But then, static swam over them. Not enough to fully obscure the figure walking into the frame, but enough to be obvious. The boy from the pictures. He walked to the desk, had a short conversation with the receptionist during which he handed over the letter, and then left, taking the static with him.

“Well, hell,” said Constantine. It had been a while since he’d seen a demon take a form like that, but he supposed this one must have learned that he had a soft spot for kids. Or maybe this was a kid. A demon kid. He’d thought he’d taken care of all of his, but wouldn’t have been the first time he’d screwed up, and this whole situation was a collection of screw ups.

“Do you know what could cause the static?”

“Whole range of spells, but I’m gonna bet you already knew that from Zatanna.”

“Hm,” said Batman. “The name of the boy is Daniel Fenton. He is fifteen years old, and his major claim to fame is discovering that a purple-backed gorilla on loan to his local zoo was female. He also makes an occasional appearance on the leaderboards of the video game ‘Doomed,’ where he is a well known player.”

“A demon playing video games. Now I’ve seen it all.” It wasn’t so much that demons couldn’t have hobbies, he just didn’t care to learn them, if they weren’t relevant to beating the crap out of them or tricking them into taking a holy water shower. Then again, there was an outside possibility that ‘Daniel’ wasn’t a demon. “Any of this have a point?”

“Establishing facts,” said Batman. “It is possible that you had encountered him via the internet.”

“Do I look like the kind of guy who plays video games?”

Batman clicked the remote again, a map appearing on the screen, a blinking dot appearing in the middle of nowhere, US. “Daniel lives with his older sister, Jasmine, and their parents Drs. Jack and Madeline Fenton in Amity Park.”

“Amity Park?” repeated Constantine.

“Is it familiar to you?”

“I think I looked into it once. Supposed to be haunted. Veil there is maybe a little thin, but nothing on the Tower of London, or, hell, the British Museum. You wouldn’t believe what all those stolen grave goods can get up to together. Your permanently overcast city is more haunted. It’s a dead end.”

“Maybe not. The Drs. Fenton are friends with the billionaire Vladimir Masters, but primarily derive their income from their patented inventions, which include customized ‘branding’ toasters, high-efficiency toilet paper, ultra-lightweight camping gear, various treatments for radiation poisoning, and several items that have been marked classified by the Department of Homeland Security and the Department of Energy, for their use of dangerous energy sources.”

Constantine’s eyebrows went up. Mad scientists mucking about with radiation were generally not in his wheelhouse. Or even riding the same tracks, for that matter. “You think they went poking around in the occult for their ‘dangerous energy sources?’”

“Possibly,” said Batman. “In addition to their inventions, they are moderately well-known in ghost hunting communities, which explains their presence in the reportedly-haunted Amity Park. However, everything they’ve written on the subject indicates that they believe ghosts have a strictly scientific explanation. They also,” continued Batman, the corners of his mouth pulling into a slightly deeper frown, “believe that ghosts are nonsentient and nonsapient.”

“So, they have no idea what they’re talking about. Just some big brains that got sucked in by the kind of fraudsters who started the seance craze. Great. I’m sure Deadman’d love to have word with them. If they could even see him.” He rubbed his chin. “But the must’ve run into something real if their kid’s doing all this. Or if what looks like their kid’s doing all this.”

“You don’t believe Daniel Fenton is the one in the video?”

“Lemme put it this way. Odds of a random kid pulling one over on the demons I sold my soul to are about the same as you developing a sense of humor. Best case scenario, he’s just possessed, or he’s some kind of freak like Klarion.”

Batman grunted in acknowledgement. “Approximately six months ago, Jack Fenton purchased an ‘authentic demon soul contract’ from Ebay.”

Constantine opened and closed his mouth several times. “You’re joking.”

“As you are aware, I have no sense of humor.”

“Jesus Christ. Ebay?”

“The seller was a man named Eric Chambers. Zatanna investigated him earlier this week. He is, apparently, an amateur demonologist who wanted to ‘get out of the game’ and was in the process of selling off all his magical paraphernalia. He had sold several additional versions of your soul contract to another buyer in Amity Park. A known associate of Daniel Fenton named Samantha Manson. Are any of these names familiar to you?”

“Not exactly,” said Constantine. “But… Ebay?” He’d never thought his soul was anything special, but at least he’d thought it was worth enough to not be resold on Ebay. “And how did this Chambers bloke get them?”

“Apparently, the demons he’d summoned no longer wanted them, and he was under the impression that he could ‘put you under his thrall’ if he collected enough of them.”

So the guy who had his soul wasn’t even the first one to have the idea. Brilliant.

“And that’s it?”

“I could tell you Daniel Fenton’s grades and internet habits,” said Batman. “As well as those of his close friends and associates. Apart from his parents and his recent involvement with you, he is ordinary.”

“The thing with the gorilla is ordinary, then?”

“Most people have at least one outlier event in their lives. It would be of greater concern if he did not.” He paused, staring long and hard at Constantine. “What are your initial thoughts?”

“That I’m about to get screwed up the–”

“Regarding how Daniel Fenton got involved in this.”

“Like I said, it’s probably not Daniel Fenton. I’d guess… If I had to guess, I’d say that after Fenton’s dad got hold of that contract, he went and played around with it. Something like a genuine contract can be used to do a lot. It has the magical signatures of both the original demon and whatever sorry bastard signed it. If you’ve got that, you can ring up the demon.” He raised his hands, miming a scale. “Demon, inexperienced idiot teenager…” He tilted to one side. “You get the picture.”

And, yeah, wasn’t it great that he could cause people to die just by leaving his junk everywhere? He hadn’t learned anything from the dream sand.

“You believe Daniel Fenton summoned a demon that possessed him, which then proceeded to collect your soul contracts?”

“Yeah. Can you pull up a pic of the contract Jack Fenton bought?”

Batman briefly examined the remote, then flicked quickly through several slides, stopping, finally, on a very classic demonic soul contract. Constantine had signed several like that, so he had to squint at it and read through it line by line. It wasn’t like he memorized the handwriting of every demon he’d ever made a contract with. In fact, he’d memorized the handwriting of exactly zero demons. They didn’t precisely write a lot, and you either got illegible chicken scratch or equally illegible ornate gothic script.

He got to the name and swore. “That guy doesn’t have the power to go up against the First of the Fallen.” He rubbed his chin vigorously.

“It’s possible that Chambers sent a different contract to the Fentons,” said Batman, “or Daniel was… infected after receiving the other contracts.” More pictures popped up on the screens. “However, there is a problem with this theory.”

“Yeah?” asked Constantine, already scanning the contracts. The Bat didn’t like Constantine’s ideas. What else was new?

“Daniel’s behavior has had no significant changes in that six month time frame. But if we go back by just over a year, to when he was entering high school, his grades took a steep dive and several disciplinary actions were noted on his record. His close friends’ grades took similar, but smaller, hits at the same time.”

“You think he could have been possessed earlier.”

“I believe that something happened to him at that time. I am unconvinced it was possession.”

Constantine shook his head. “None of these guys are strong enough to begin with. Maybe if they were working together… Nah. None of them could work together. That’s why I picked them.” He rubbed his eyes. “Then again, I thought no one could get all my soul contracts, so who knows?”

“Are you sure possession is the only solution?”

“God, no. Hell, we could be dealing with a cabal of homo magi, or someone back from the grave who seriously hates me, that’d explain the death magic on the letter, at least, or maybe there’s a god hanging around getting their kicks poking at me. It’s just a giant blank. I’ve never heard of this kid. I’ve never heard of his family. I’ve barely heard of Vlad Masters. I’ve got nothing.”

“Hm,” said Batman. “What are you planning to do?”

“I’m guessing ignoring it forever isn’t something you’d let me do?”

“No.”

“I guess I’m gonna have to go investigate, then.”

“In that case,” said Batman, pulling a fat folder of papers out of his cape somehow, “you will need to know more about Daniel Fenton, his associates, and Amity Park.” He dropped the folder on the table with an audible thump.

“Great,” said Constantine. “Just what I wanted. Homework.”

Constantine and Zatanna zeta’d to the nearest tube near Amity Park. Batman had arranged an ‘untraceable’ rental car for them, paranoid bastard. Demons didn’t usually have the skillset required to trace license plates.

Then again, there might be more than demons involved. Even if necromancers generally had no skillset outside of necromancy.

There could be shamans, though! They were well known for their technological acumen!

Yeah, right. It was possible, but not bloody likely.

“I could teleport, you know,” he told Zatanna. “We could both teleport.”

“Into the home turf of an unknown magic user?”

Constantine rolled his eyes and knocked his head against the car window. “I’m surprised the ol’ Bat isn’t coming with us.”

“You know he is,” said Zatanna. “I’d give even odds that he’s already there, if I had any desire to gamble with you.”

“Hey! I could be good for it. I have steady work now!”

Zatanna shook her head. Constantine huffed.

“I’m going to take a nap. Might be my last one, after all.”

“John,” said Zatanna, “you’re not going to die. Don’t you think this is a little… excessive, considering all the stuff you’ve gotten out of before?”

“No one’s owned my whole soul before. Now, I really am going to go to sleep. Wake me up when we get there.”

Death.

That’s what pulled Constantine out of his dreams and into a nightmare, and from there into wakefulness. The feeling did not dissipate. Instead, it grew stronger.

He looked over at Zatanna, who was still driving. Her knuckles were white, her shoulders stiff.

“What the hell,” croaked Constantine.

“It’s been building as we get closer to Amity Park,” said Zatanna. “It doesn’t feel… actively malicious… More like a massive haunting. It’s been building slowly.”

Constantine swallowed and tried to rub sand out of his eyes. “That’s– Where are we?”

“About ten minutes out of Amity Park.”

“No. I’ve been to Amity Park. It doesn’t feel anything like this. It’s boring.”

“Well,” said Zatanna, strained, “something’s changed. At least we know where the letter picked up all that death magic.”

Constantine breathed in deeply through his nose. “Yeah, there’s enough of it here for me to feel it, God.” It was making his skin prickle. He shook himself all over. “Might as well stay awake now. Do you mind if I set my wards?”

“Knock yourself out.”

Constantine walked into the diner and looked around. It was very American. Retro. Quiet. Not entirely clean, but Constantine had been in way worse. The air smelled strongly of cinnamon, coffee, and hot chocolate. Not the kind of place he generally bartered for his soul, or away his soul, as the case might be.

An aggressive ‘No Smoking’ sign was positioned prominently next to the cheery ‘seat yourself’ sign. Constantine scowled at it. Sometimes it felt like there was nowhere to smoke anymore in the whole world.

Daniel Fenton, easily recognizable from a legion of school photos and a junior astronaut camp photo ID, was sitting alone at a booth, a cup of hot chocolate with whipped cream in front of him. He swung his legs back and forth and scribbled in a notebook. A few tables away, not nearly as sneaky as they clear-ly thought they were being, were his friends Manson and Foley.

Zatanna had entered the diner before him, of course, and Batman was most likely… somewhere. God only knew where. Constantine knew people who could turn invisible and shapeshift that weren’t as good at it as Batman.

Before coming in, Constantine had finished setting his wards. His pockets were full of all sorts of tests, charms, and apotropaics. As he stuck his hands into them, a spray bottle fit easily into his hand.

Walking to the table felt like walking to his execution. He made the comparison with confidence, because he had the relevant experience. When he stopped next to the table, Fenton looked up. His expression was confused at first, but in less than a second he lit up, clearly delighted.

Constantine also had relevant experience in spritzing demons with holy water.

Fenton flinched, but he didn’t start howling or melting. More’s the pity.

“Did you just spray me with holy water?” asked Fenton, blinking up at him with a realistic expression of befuddlement.

“Guy’s gotta know what he’s dealing with,” said Constantine.

“Well, I’m not a demon.” A slight furrow worked its way between his eyes. “Or a devil.”

“What are you, then?” asked Constantine.

Fenton shrugged. “I don’t know. An amateur demonologist? I don’t have any training in this kind of stuff, which is probably why all this happened.” He reached to the side and grabbed his hot chocolate. “Oh. You got my whipped cream with your water…”

“You don’t have any training?”

“Not in this,” stressed Fenton. “I go to school and stuff.”

And astronaut camp, assuming this really was Daniel Fenton and not something possessing or impersonating him.

“Anyway, are you going to sit down, or…?” Fenton looked him up and down.

Constantine scowled and slid into the booth. Then he threw some salt (purified) at Fenton.

“Hey,” complained Fenton, “you’re going to ruin my hot chocolate, jeez.” He picked up the mug, pulling it towards himself.

Constantine took the opportunity to grab his notebook off the table and flip through it.

“Maths?” blurted Constantine.

Fenton set the mug back on the table and leaned over to snatch the notebook back. “Like I said, I do have school. That’s why I can only hang out here on Saturdays. You did miss the last few meeting times.” He huffed. “I know this isn’t ideal, but can we work together here? I don’t actually want to own your soul.”

“Oh, yeah, amazing way of showing it, mate. I know who and what I sold my soul to, and I don’t believe you bartered with them without any training.” Or that he was human, but as long as he was invested in the facade, he probably wouldn’t eat Constantine’s face off.

“I didn’t say I didn’t have any training. Just no training in this. I don’t know exactly what you can do beyond make bad demon-related decisions, but you had weeks to do research. You’ve got to know about the ghosts.”

“Might. What about them?”

“My parents research them. Fight them, sometimes. It’s a whole thing. Demons weren’t any harder to deal with.”

“I sold my soul to archdemons.”

“Yeah, they kind of sucked, to be honest.” Fenton bit his lower lip. “Look, I know you don’t trust me. I wouldn’t trust me, but what I did to get your contracts wasn’t anything anyone couldn’t do. Most of them didn’t even want them anymore. The first batch I bought off of a random dude on Ebay. One of them paid me to take the contract, because they hated the doll you wrote it on so much. A lot of the others just wanted me to give you problems, which I think I’ve succeeded at, actually.”

Constantine had forgotten about the doll, actually. “And the archdemons? I know for a fact they’ve been looking forward to torturing me forever, so I doubt they’d just hand the contracts over in exchange for ‘giving me problems.’”

“Oh, yeah. For those guys, I just robbed them. There were also a few people I just beat up.”

“Demons aren’t people, they’re demons.”

“Sure they’re people. They’re just evil people. But they used to be angels or something, right?”

“... No,” said Constantine.

“Okay, well.” Fenton shrugged again. “They still are thinking beings, right? So, they’re people.”

Constantine honestly didn’t know where to go from that.

"Fine," he said instead. "You aren't going to tell me how you got the contracts or what you are. Is it too much to hope you'll deign to tell me why you did this?"

"I'm a teenager, why do we do anything?" Fenton sipped at his hot chocolate. "Mostly, I thought it'd be funny."

"Excuse me?"

"I thought it would be funny. I mean, Dad bought the first one, because he thought it'd help with his ghost research, but it didn't, so he let me have it. I asked Johnny about it, and he told me about your contracts, so I–"

"Who's Johnny?" interrupted Constantine. "Some demon friend of yours?"

He did have a strategy, here, sort of. Most ultra powerful magical beings had a limit to how much annoyance or disrespect they'd tolerate, even when disguising themselves. Constantine had a knack for finding those limits.

Also, just possibly, the hapless teenager act was throwing him off. It was remarkably believable.

"No, he's dead, to begin with, not–"

"Oh, so, you took advice on dealing with demons from someone who turned up dead right after telling you about me. That sounds brilliant."

"He's a ghost. He's been dead since at least the nineties, and I doubt you had anything to do with it. Johnny died in the eighties. I think.”

“A ghost told you about me?”

“Yeah. I don’t know what wizards or magicians like you can do or sense, but if you looked up anything about Amity Park at all, you should have seen there are a lot of ghosts here. It’s not just tourist trap stuff. That’s… actually one of the other things I wanted to talk to you about, if I managed to get enough of your contracts to get you to come.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, not all ghosts are nice. I meant it when I said your demons sucked. That’s compared to the ghosts. And sometimes to the people who come to hunt the ghosts.” Fenton drummed his fingers on the table, nervous. “It’s a toss up which group causes more damage. The Guys in White are especially awful. It would be nice if the Justice League took a look into them?” His voice took on a hopeful lilt.

“You bought my soul to tip off the League about… Guys in White.”

“They’re with the government. Presumably. No one knows what they’re really called. And they chase people around screaming about lots and lots of painful experiments. Direct quotes.”

“You know the League has a tip line.”

“Tried it.” Fenton took a huge gulp of hot chocolate.

“I don’t believe you,”

“If you hang out here for very long, you and your friends will be able to see the ghosts for yourself.”

Constantine could already feel the ghosts. Or at least the pervasive, overwhelming sense of death permeating this city. He didn’t doubt that something requiring Justice League Dark attention was going on here. Beyond just whatever was going on with Fenton himself.

But his attention was taken by two other points.

One, what he didn’t believe was that Fenton did all this for only some combination of kicks and giggles and wanting Justice League attention. Contacts with ghosts or not, burglarizing archdemons wasn’t something anyone sane blew off as nothing.

Two, Fenton had said friends. He’d understand if he’d made Zatanna, but the plural implied that he’d spotted Batman, too.

He didn’t let himself react. “No one rips off archdemons to call in a tip. Or just for fun.”

Fenton looked guilty, a blush creeping across his cheeks. “I didn’t want to bring it up, it didn’t seem appropriate anymore. And the other thing isn’t… relevant.”

“Why don’t you let me decide what’s relevant?” asked Constantine, despite how all his senses were screaming wrong wrong wrong at him. “This is my soul we’re talking about, after all.”

“I know, I know,” said Fenton. “But you didn’t exactly…” He trailed off. “The other thing was that some of my friends thought you need an intervention. We also wanted to see your face when we… intervened. Yeah, we thought it’d look kind of like that.” Fenton pointed at him.

Constantine slapped away the hand. He was almost convinced Fenton was… Well. Not normal, but maybe not homicidal, or particularly interested in enslaving Constantine or torturing him for all time. A step up from some of the other things he’d sold his soul to in the past. Possibly.

(The whole ‘teenager’ thing was definitely an entry in the negative column, though. As well as the whole humiliation and mockery angle.)

“What else?” he demanded.

Fenton’s face twisted with embarrassment and jealousy. “You get to go up to the Watchtower, don’t you?” he asked. “You get to go to space.”

“So?”

“So, I want to go to space. I was, um. I was going to… ask you to take me up there. Just to look.”

Infiltrating the Watchtower was a much more obvious motive, but… Constantine remembered the space camp ID.

“I mean, I’m never going to get up there with my grades. Fighting demons for it seemed… feasible.” He shrugged, then started to slump. “I was going to give them back, you know. Your contracts. I didn’t want to keep them. Or your soul.” He pushed himself up. “Anyway. None of that matters, now. We've got a problem to solve.”

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, as I explained in my letter, the contracts sort of… exploded."

"No, back up, what do you mean it doesn't matter?"

"Well, if this doesn't make you stop selling your soul, I don’t know what will, the Justice League knows about Amity now, I'm not going to make you take me to the Watchtower when I can't trade your soul back to you, and the funny boat sailed at about the same time my friend told me this might be permanent."

"Is this friend also dead?" drawled Constantine.

"No, he's more in the never alive category."

Which possibly explained some of the spirit magic Zatanna detected on the letter.

"He thinks it's because some of your contracts said after death instead of when you're dead, so, because there weren't any competing claims, they all came due at once. Since there were so many of them…"

"Repetition makes magic stronger, yeah, yeah," said Constantine. "I read the letter."

"I was hoping you'd have some solutions. No offense, but I don't want to own you. You're, like, an entire person."

Constantine wouldn't have been offended if Fenton hadn't prefixed his statement with no offense.

“You should have thought about that before buying up my soul.”

“I was going to give it back. No strings.”

“Except for a trip to the Watchtower.”

“If you really didn’t want to, I wouldn’t have made you,” said Fenton.

Somehow, Constantine believed him. Which was crazy. He’d have to check in with Zatanna to make sure he wasn’t being enchanted somehow. Charm person should not be a real thing magicians could do, and yet…

“Look, do you want me to swear it on the Styx or is there something else I can do to convince you I’m telling the truth?” asked Fenton. “The ghosts seem to like the Styx, anyway.” He sighed. “Tell me you have something that can fix this. I don’t know what kind of side effects there are for owning a person’s soul. It’s not like this happens all the time.”

Hell if Constantine knew. The only way he knew to get out of contracts like this was loopholes exploited before they were collected on. “I’m… going to have to do some research.”

“Well,” said Fenton, “let me give you my phone number.” He slid a piece of paper across the table. “You can call me if you figure anything out. In the meantime, if you’re staying in town long, you should look into the ghost thing. Talk to my parents, even. Maybe don’t mention all this, though.”

“Why not?”

“I love my parents, but they must have skipped out on the day they teach scientists that just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should. Anyway, I’ve got to go.” He started to shove things into a purple backpack he’d pulled into his lap from under the table.

“What? Why?” As far as Constantine was concerned, they’d only just started to scratch the surface of the problem.

“Me and my friends have tickets to a movie.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder at Manson and Foley, who, apparently, were not trying to blend in or be subtle. “You did miss the first few meeting times.”

“Your impression?” asked Zatanna, later, sliding into the booth after Fenton and his friends were thoroughly gone.

“He’s… surprisingly believable. Claims he ‘doesn’t have any training’ in magic, though, which sounds like crap, unless his parents are much more legit than what they look like on paper.”

Zatanna crossed her arms and drummed her fingers on her elbow. “He wasn’t lying. Not that any of my spells could detect.”

Constantine huffed. “That doesn’t seem possible.”

“He doesn’t seem like he could take on archdemons, but with help from ghosts or spirits? We don’t know who’s backing him.”

“God,” said Constantine, “that’s not something I was thinking of.”

“Because you were fixated on the demon theory.”

“But if he’s being backed by someone powerful, why wouldn’t they buy up my contracts themself? That doesn’t make sense.”

“I’m not saying that his… patron, for lack of a better word, put him up to it. Just that he might be getting extra support.”

A waitress came up to them, smiling cheerily. “Hello, there, sorry for the delay. Have you decided what you’re getting?”

“The hot chocolate looked good,” said Zatanna.

“Knock yourself out,” said Constantine, standing. “I’m going to see what Fenton’s parents are like.”

“John Constantine?” repeated Jack Fenton, inquisitively. “Ha! That’s the same name that was on that fake demon contract thing I got on Ebay! What a wild coincidence, huh?”

“You could have mentioned the portal to the astral plane in your basement,” hissed Constantine into the phone. A tiny voice in the back of his head warned him that he shouldn’t take that tone with someone who owned him, but he ignored it handily.

“Would you have believed me if I told you?” asked Fenton, genuinely curious.

Constantine wouldn’t have, but it was the principle of the thing.

“Also, what did you call it? I’ve never heard anyone call it that.”

Batman’s deep voice rumbled through the communicator. “What did you learn?”

“I learned this place is a nightmare and a half. There’s a portal to the astral plane in that kid’s basement, did you know?”

“I ran into a ghost while Constantine was talking to the Fentons,” said Zatanna, leaning sideways while keeping her eyes on the road. “It was much more powerful than any other ghost I’ve ever seen.”

“That is not good news considering what I have learned about the so-called Guys in White.”

“Have you found anything?” asked Fenton. Wherever he was, his reception was crap. His voice crackled with enough static that he might as well be calling from the early nineteen-twenties.

“No,” said Constantine. It had gotten him excused from the Justice Club meetings, which meant that the failure was almost worth the headache the idea of his soul being owned by a teenager caused him.

“I didn’t find anything either.”

“Then why did you call?”

“Uh,” said Fenton. “I’m really grateful you guys got the GIW out of Amity, you know that, right? And that you guys put someone on watch here for bigger threats?”

“Yeah,” said Constantine, slowly. “Sure.” It had been mostly Batman managing that side of things, as Constantine was banned from decisions regarding Amity Park, but if Fenton was going to give Constantine credit, who was he to deny it?

“So, um. That was really great of you.”

Constantine was not liking where this was going. But, apparently, this was his life, now. Getting tips and awkwardly phrased requests from… God. The creepy necromancer brat was sort of his warlock patron.

… Curse his knowledge of Dungeons and Dragons. It was definitely a detriment to his profession as a real mage, and everything he learned about it was against his will and usually the Flash’s fault.

“What is it, Fenton?”

“Have you ever heard of the Showenhowers?”

#dc/dp #dcxdp #fic #my fic

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tcwmatchmakingau · 1 year ago

Text

The Beauty In All, Part Two

Editor's note: written by @deejadabbles Pairing: Echo x GN!reader Rating: General Audience (but minors DNI) Summary: Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice- still shame on you, don't take advantage of my kindness! After so many times of falling for people who mock and manipulate your kind nature, you thought that love, true love, was simply not in the cards for you. Thankfully, Right to Love is here to make sure you and a lucky ARC trooper get your happy ending together. A.N: For some clarity: in my take on this AU, Palps had his "unfortunate accident" pretty late into the og clone wars timeline, so Echo was still rescued from the techno union and was rolling with the bad batch for awhile. And of course, since this is an everyone lives AU too, Tup's chip never activated so that whole thing never went down, Everyone lives, everyone's rescued, happy endings all around! Also....if you guys read this chapter closely, you'll see references to more stories I have planned for this AU *wink wink* Lastly, Daria is @blueink-bluesoul 's wonderful OC, who you will find in other works of this AU! Word Count: 2,742

Warnings: Mentions and discussions of ableism

Part One

With all her appointments taken care of for the day, Maura sat at her desk and got to work with the stack of profiles under her care. With her favorite playlist starting in the background and a shawl wrapped loosely around her shoulders, she started sorting today’s new clients. She used her own little “personality-type” system to highlight and sort each of them, which made it easier to draw up a short list of possible matches for each client, which were then looked into deeper from there.

She had gotten this process down to a nice, practiced rhythm and had just begun drawing up the ‘maybe-matches’ for the first new client, when there was a knock on her door. As usual, she gave a distracted noise to whoever was on the other side, and most people at RTL would know it meant a cheerful, “come in”.

“I come bearing gifts,” came an almost light tone, and Maura didn’t have to look up from her desk unit to know it was Kix.

Still, because it was Kix, she tore herself away from her work and smiled up at him. He was holding two togo cups in his hands, both bearing the logo of the tapcaf down the street that many at the matchmaking service frequented nowadays.

Kix was giving his most charming smile as he handed the cup to her, “One hot cocoa, with extra whipped cream and caramel drizzle. And yes, hot cocoa, because I know that, even if you like it, caf this late in the day makes you stay up all night.”

His smile was very infectious, not that she needed much reason to smile, but it was easy around a man like Kix. “You are the actual sweetest,” she said as she took the cup, waiting till she removed the lid and swiped some of the cream before adding, “even if it is just a bribe.”

Kix didn’t even flinch. He was still smiling as he put a hand over his heart, “But I bring you drinks all the time without ulterior motives.”

Maura leaned back in her chair and narrowed her eyes playfully at the medic, “In the morning, yes, not in the afternoon. Come on, Kix, out with it.”

He at least had the decency to look like he was thinking his answer over, even though she knew he had whatever he wanted to say planned down to a T. Finally he sank into her chair, instantly grabbing the tooka plushy and holding it aloft. “So, I had a lovely chat with one of today’s clients in the waiting room and I was thinking that they would be perfect for…you know who,” he moved the tooka’s head as if it agreed with him. Dang it, he was bringing out all the cute charm today

Honestly, she should have expected this, especially since she knew exactly who he was talking about…and that the thought crossed her mind too. How could it not? You were charming and sweet and obviously cared deeply about people, especially clones. One of her previous clients, Tiio, had sent her a long, detailed letter of recommendation the moment you signed up for RTL. Everyone knew about the whole flower crown event now and, according to Daria, even Fox was fond of you and the way you treated his brothers.

And, as for ‘you know who’, Maura had met the stubborn brother in question a few times now, when Kix invited her along to 79s. Even when she wasn’t working, Maura couldn’t help but to read people, to think about and observe them, and that man may benefit from someone like you.

But, in the end, none of that mattered. Not until Echo came to RTL himself.

“Kix,” it was undoubtedly a warning, though it had no real teeth since she knew he was a good enough man not to make her resort to that. “You know I can’t do anything until he comes to us. And even then, I can’t set them up on a date just because you got a feeling or a vibe.”

“I know I know,” he set the tooka plush on his lap so he could hold up both hands to her, “Obviously you know more than I do, I just had a short conversation, but,” he shrugged, “I don’t know, I just got this feeling when I talked to them. You’re the expert but, if I can finally drag him in here, will you at least give their compatibility a look over?”

Maura quirked an eyebrow, “You think you’re wearing him down?”

He ran a hand over his neatly designed hair, looking a little smug now, “You know not to underestimate my skills. We’re going out tonight, a bunch of us and a lot are bringing their partners. I bet the morning caf that Echo’s name will pop up in the appointment requests by this time tomorrow.”

All she could do was wave her hands, “I won’t promise anything, but, if he submits his profile, I’ll keep all possible matches in mind.” Oh, he was practically beaming now. “But Kix, don’t expect me to wait for him if you still haven’t convinced him,” her tone was firm, but he knew she was only saying it as a professional reminder.

“I wouldn’t expect any less,” was his pleased reply, “I won’t even say I told you so when he signs up.”

“No.”

Kix looked quite affronted, “You don’t even know what I was going to say!”

Echo’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead, “You mentioned Right to Love, I know where this conversation is going.”

As if he couldn’t be bothered with his brother’s offended look, Echo simply took another drink of his Bespin brandy as Kix recovered himself. Currently, between everyone who had shown up tonight, Echo, Kix, Tech, and Hunter were the only ones still sitting at the booth and table they’d claimed. Fives always made sure to include Echo when the old 501st gang went out, and in turn, Echo tended to drag clone force 99 along with him. It had taken…a while for the two teams to get used to each other, but they'd managed something of a relationship by now.

Kix leaned back in his chair, “All I said was that there’s been another influx of new clients recently.”

“And,” Echo said in a bored tone, “that was your attempt at shifting the conversation so you can try to convince me to sign up, again.”

“There’s something wrong with that?” Kix shrugged, unbothered by the resistance, “It’s kind of my job to pester my brothers into taking care of themselves.”

“I don’t see how getting set up on a blind date is ‘taking care of myself’.”

“You know it’s more than that.”

“Kix,” Echo’s voice was a rumble now, but made it a little less barbed at the edges when he said, “why are you so set on this?”

The other man couldn’t help but sigh. He cast a look around the table, Tech was engrossed in his datapad while Hunter leaned back with his eyes closed. Hopefully, they would use the loud music as a way to turn a blind ear.

Still, Kix leaned in and lowered his tone when he said, “Vod, I see the way you look at them.”

Even though he certainly didn’t need to, he nodded his head toward their brothers. To Fives who was dancing with his once shy partner. To Tup who was cheering his girlfriend on at the billiards table. To Rex who, while never having been a client, still found love at the little service devoted to it.

“It’s okay to want what they have, Echo,” Kix said, and he hoped the sincerity in his tone came through.

Echo didn’t look at him, at first he seemed to stare at nothing in particular, but Kix knew his eyes were drifting between the pairs. He saw the way he watched Fives tease a blush out of his cyare, or Tup smile when his girl leaned her head on his shoulder, or Rex and his little matchmaker staring at each other with pure adoration.

Kix took a sip of his own drink before adding, “Look, I’m not saying love’s going to make life perfect or anything, but, I think they could find someone who could really make you happy.” He waited a beat, then nudged his old friend in the shoulder. “Hell, I’m sure they can even find someone who can handle how grumpy you are. And when that happens, I know you can make that person happy too.” This time he didn’t give Echo a chance to reply, instead, scooting his chair back from the table as he took their glasses, “Think about that while I get us another round.”

Still there, at the table, Echo watched the medic go and released a long breath from the depths of his chest. Yes, Echo had thought about Right to Love many, many times. Every time one of his brothers gushed about their partners, he would feel a small, short tug in his chest. Echo never had been, nor ever would be, the type of man who needed to be in a relationship, but, there was still a longing there. A pining, almost. And he supposed he owed it to himself to finally acknowledge its existence.

“I think it’s a good idea.”

The voice startled Echo out of his thoughts and he turned to find Hunter, still sitting with his head tilted back and eyes shut.

“All you can lose is time, Echo, so why not try it?”

“There’s more to it than that,” he grumbled.

Hunter finally opened his eyes and looked at him. “So? Since when have you backed down from anything? I would have thought the ARC trooper in you would like the risk.”

Echo knew what Hunter was doing, especially since Hunter was observant enough to realize what he meant by ‘more to it’. Still, he had to admit that Hunter's challenge was working.

And, once Echo thought about it with a little more grace, he supposed Kix had a point. If there was anywhere that could help him find someone who was nothing like his previous dalliances, it was probably RTL.

Kix was making his way back to the table now, and got a thankful nod from Hunter when he handed him a fresh drink. Before the medic could even settle back in his chair, Echo knocked him off balance with his next words.

“Alright, you win.”

If Echo wasn’t so hardwired to see things through, he might have walked out the door during the time he waited in the lobby. Filling out the profile questions had made this all feel a little too real all of a sudden and a part of him still couldn’t believe he was actually doing this.

Still, seeing the look on not only Kix’s face, but the way Fives’ lit up when he heard that Echo was coming here, made it all a little easier. Kix at least had the decency not to keep harping on the matter after he ‘won’ so to speak. Fives, on the other hand, couldn't stop going on about how excited he was that Echo was ‘getting out there’ again and would finally find someone they could go on double dates with.

It was half endearing, half annoying as all kriff.

Now, Echo was being led into a cozy little office by a woman who put the casual in business casual. A part of him was glad it was Maura who took him on, at least he knew her, even if they weren’t necessarily friends. Though, he supposed if they were, that would be some kind of conflict of interest.

“So, how does this work?” he asked after settling down in the chair across from her.

“Right now? We talk so I can get to know you better, so I can understand your needs and what you’re looking for better.”

To the point, but not unkind, Echo could respect that. “What do you want to know?”

For a moment she simply looked at him, considering and he felt a little uneasy under the gaze, not that he would let it show. Then, “I want to know why you were so reluctant to come here.” Her eyes softened a little, though she didn’t take them off him, “You don’t strike me as someone who balks at love, or even what we do here. And yet, Kix has spent many a lunch break complaining about how you brushed him off every time he brought it up to you.”

Alright, diving into the deep end. At least she didn’t waste time. Still, he needed a moment to think, to collect himself and she seemed patient, settling back in her chair to relax a little.

“It’s not just Right to Love," he started after a while, "it’s not as if I have some weird prejudice against this place. It’s just, dating in general, I suppose.”

“A bad history with dating?”

Echo scoffed, “Yeah, you could say that.”

She didn’t reply, just continued to look back at him, only now she gave him a small, encouraging smile.

Again, he waited a moment, falling back on some of his strategic tendencies before he even thought about it. Old habits died hard, but, he did want to think his answer over carefully. It’s not as if he kept these things secret and, if he was going to tell someone, it should be the woman responsible for finding him someone who wouldn't repeat the mistakes of lovers past.

Echo shifted in his chair, eyes drifting down to the dark wood of her desk. “In the past, when I’ve tried to date, I either get one extreme or the other.” He lifted his prosthetic hand and waved it over the rest of him, over every cybernetic detail. “A lot of people can’t handle this. They act like they can at first, but I see the way they look at me before eventually forgetting my comm number. Or, they’re at the other end of the spectrum. They see all this and think that they need to ‘fix’ me.” The word was bitter in his mouth, and his eyes snapped up to meet hers again, “I don’t need to be fixed, just like I don't need someone who can't stand the way I look. I don't want either of those. I want someone to look at me and…”

His voice trailed off, which was a little unlike him. Echo was usually so sure in his words and actions.

“To look at you and just see you?” Maura finished for him, and the words struck home.

Echo found himself taking in a breath, then, he almost let out a huff of a laugh, “Yeah. Just me. I’m not saying that these aren’t a part of who I am, they are, but there’s so much more to me than that.” He sighed, "So yeah, that's why I'm a little reluctant on dating."

That small, encouraging smile got wider and warmer as she straightened up in her chair, “Thank you for being so honest with me, Echo. Being hesitant to put yourself in our care is understandable, given all that.” It was only then that her eyes left him, instead focusing on her datapad as she typed away. “I’m not going to belittle the trust you’ve put in me by making flowery promises. I can’t guarantee that whoever I match you with will undoubtedly see you the way you deserve to be seen. I will, however, promise that I won’t give up until we find someone who does.”

Echo chuckled at that, “So, you’ll take on my high-maintenance case?”

Maura smiled at him, “High-maintenance? Oh, dear Echo, don’t flatter yourself. If you were truly that, we probably would have sent you to Daria. I don’t think there’s ever been a challenge that woman didn’t want to tackle." She winked at him, "You’re stuck with me instead.”

“You’re at least honest with me,” Echo shrugged, “And Kix seems to have faith in you, so I’ll trust his judgment.”

“I’m so glad I have glowing recommendations,” she drawled as she finished her notes.

He actually found himself smiling and almost, almost felt like something in his chest lightened. Alright, Echo wasn’t too proud to admit when someone else was right and, somehow, he actually had a good feeling about this.

#tcw matchmaking au #clone matchmaking au #The Bad Batch

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