#might make a necklace or somethin for the sun

[comet-does-art]

*turns solar system into bracelets*

From left to right: Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, and the dwarf planets, Pluto, Eris, Haumea, Makemake, and Ceres

Close ups under cut

[geneviveleocardius]

arthur morgan, who might have a little (big) crush on you.

the camp was quiet for once. the sky stretched wide and orange as the sun dipped low, the sounds of nature settling into its evening rhythm. arthur walked up to you, his steps heavy but purposeful, a small parcel in his hand. you were sitting by the fire, scribbling in your journal, oblivious to his approach.

“got somethin’ for you,” he muttered, voice low and rough like it always was, but there was a hint of… something softer there.

you looked up, curious. “for me?”

he nodded, shuffling awkwardly before holding out the little package. you took it, fingers brushing his for the briefest moment. inside was a necklace—a small, delicate heart on a thin chain. it sparkled faintly in the fading light, and your chest tightened.

“arthur…” you said, breath catching. “this is beautiful. thank you.”

“ain’t nothin’,” he said quickly, scratching at the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at you. “just… thought you’d like it.”

“i do,” you said, smiling up at him. “would you… put it on me?”

his hands froze mid-air, but he nodded, stepping closer. you turned, lifting your hair. his calloused fingers brushed the back of your neck as he fastened the clasp, and the air felt heavier somehow, charged with something unspoken.

“there,” he said, stepping back. “suits you.”

“thank you,” you repeated, your voice softer now. you touched the pendant lightly before meeting his eyes. “would you sit with me for a while? i was just writing about one of the books i finished recently.”

he hesitated but sat down beside you, his knees brushing yours. as you began talking, your voice lit up with passion, describing plots and characters with a kind of fervor he didn’t hear often. but then your tone shifted, a little quieter, a little sadder.

“i don’t get to read as much as i’d like,” you admitted, eyes on the fire. “my vision isn’t great. i use my father’s old glasses, but the lenses are so strong… they make my head hurt after a while.”

arthur frowned, his brows knitting together in concern. “why don’t you get a new pair?”

you shrugged, the firelight catching the edges of your smile. “they’re expensive. i don’t have much income, and what i do have… well, most of it goes to the camp. it feels more important, you know?”

he sighed, his jaw tightening like he was trying not to show how much that bothered him. “you can’t just go ‘round hurtin’ yourself like that,” he said, his voice softer than usual. “let me see ’em.”

you hesitated but reached for the glasses, pulling them out of your pocket. they were old, worn, and when you put them on, arthur’s breath hitched. the lenses made your eyes look cartoonishly large, and you blinked up at him with a sheepish grin.

“see? they’re fine. i don’t need new ones,” you said, trying to sound convincing.

he stared at you, his face unreadable, though his lips twitched like he was holding back a smile. “you look… real cute,” he muttered after a moment, and you felt your cheeks warm. but his eyes lingered, more serious now, taking in the discomfort you were so clearly brushing aside.

“i’ll figure somethin’ out,” he said, more to himself than to you.

you opened your mouth to argue, but the look he gave you—steady, determined, and just a little too caring—made you stop.

“arthur…” you began, but he shook his head.

“just let me,” he said, voice low, and for once, you didn’t argue.

[thmgau]

CHAPTER 26 - MANDATED NONCOMPLIANCE [wattpad]

---

It had been a long, long day for Juniper.

Getting the job application from Sotry & filling it out took a little longer than expected. Juniper guessed Sotry didn’t want to be coworkers with aem either, which was fair.

After that, zae had to go to the store & pick up some food (Juno had a lot of fun in the shopping cart, it seemed). Then, fae went back over to Cherry’s dorm room to introduce everyone to Juno & the plan for tomorrow. The rest of the group just shrugged & agreed.

But now, finally, she was able to relax. As Juno got tucked into the couch, Juniper laid down in zheir bed, got all snuggled up under the covers, & conked out.

It was a restless sleep, though. In eir dreams, Juniper found emself face-to-face with the same shadow creature from before, when ey first got the necklace.

“Hero..” the creature’s voice echoed. “You must tread cautiously. Juno is not as he seems.”

Juniper tried to ask what the shadow meant by that, but nothing came out when zae tried to speak.

“Juno is a danger to us all.” the shadow creature continued. “Any mistake you make with her could lead to death, one way or another. Stay cautious. Don’t listen to a word he says.”

Before he knew it, Juniper was awake again. Phey turned to look at the time. It was only 5:46 in the morning. As voi took a few breaths, 2 questions came to mind.

Did the others have that dream, & is Juno really a threat?

A buzz from their phone answered one of those questions.

Leslie: did anybody else have that weird dream Nora: i did! Cherry: i did too. Juniper: same here. Kalani: yeah 👍 Cherry: what the hell was that even about. Cherry: “juno is not as he seems” ??? Nora: the last time we all had a dream like that was when we got the necklaces in the first place Nora: maybe this prophetic dream has a good point. Cherry: but what are we supposed to do? all we know is that juno wants back in the castle. Kalani: i think i might know what’s up ☝️ Kalani: remember what sun & mr. moon told us a couple days ago when we were at mercury ☀️🌒 Leslie: uhh. no :p Kalani: they said if we met anyone named juno, we have to avoid him at all costs. juno was the person who shot sun. 🔫 Juniper: OH SHIT youre right Juniper: THATS why the name juno felt so familiar to me Cherry: ugh so now on top of trying to pay rent in time now we have to deal with the dude who shot sun Leslie: what could juno want back in the castle for though? Nora: presumably to shoot sun again Juniper: well whatever her plan is we should probably stop it. Cherry: but how do we stop him? Juniper: i dunno! that’s what i’m asking! Leslie: if we all meet up at my dorm we could probably brainstorm somethin Leslie: plus i can make us breakfast :3 Kalani: well i can never say no to a leslie breakfast 🍳

Juniper sighed, getting out of bed. Of course ae would let a villain into aer apartment, knowing aer luck. She slipped on her slippers & made her way to Leslie’s dorm room. Whatever Juno had planned, the group was planning to stop it.

-

The group sat around on Leslie’s couch as it served them all some bacon & eggs. It was a little bit early for breakfast, but it’s better early than late.

“Mmmfh.. these are really good, Leslie!” “Thanks!”

Leslie sat down with their own plate of bacon & eggs. Somehow, throughout everything the group has been through so far, Leslie always manages to keep a smile on its face.

“So! What’s the plan?” Leslie asked, only to be met with a resounding silence from everyone in the room.

“Yea, uh.. We’ve got nothing.” “Nothing! We can work with that!” “No, Les. Not really.”

Kalani tried to think of ideas. Juniper had said the day before that the group was going to get Juno to the Castle the next day, which doesn’t give the group a lot of time to plan anything.. unless?

“I know how to kill two birds with one stone!” Kalani announced. “We’re killing birds?” “It’s a metaphor. Anyways, how about we use our jobs as an excuse until we can come up with a better plan?” “Our jobs that we.. don’t have yet?” “Ah, yeah. Those jobs.” “I’m sure we can find some odd-jobs to do around the city until we get hired!” “Ooh, good thinking! Why didn’t any of us think of that earlier?”

So, the group planned all throughout breakfast. Pretend to have a job while they do chores around town, & (as per Nora’s suggestion) get in contact with one of the Celestials, since they likely know what Juno’s personality is like.

“Alrighty, I’ll have a schedule posted for all of us in the group chat by, uh.. soon.” Cherry said, stretching. “Sounds good!”

-

Juno tossed & turned in his sleep. He was having that dream again. It was more of a memory, really, but Juno liked to pretend it’s a dream.

Despite this, the “dream” was extremely vivid in her mind. Juno could remember it like it was yesterday.

The fake court-like room that had been set up in the Castle penetrated Juno’s memory. The yellow & blue glowing podiums everyone stood at seemed duller than they had been in person. Juno had stood before Betty, Time, & Fate, & his job was to convince the three of them that he did not, in fact, kill Sun.

It was quite difficult to lie to the Celestial capable of seeing the future, though.

Before she could get a single word out, the Celestials standing before her stopped her from speaking, telling Juno that there was no use in defending herself. Everyone already knew Juno was the culprit.

Juno had no clue why Fate ever allowed him to live in the Castle in the first place, if she was able to predict Sun’s death, but what he did know is that he’d never forget the punishment provided to him.

“You have been sentenced to life on Earth for the rest of eternity.”

Those words.. Juno would never forget them. Especially not after she had gotten her revenge. He giggled to himself, knowing that these so-called heroes Fate had specifically appointed would be its downfall.

-

It was quite later in the day now, as the plan had been put into action. While everyone else was off doing gigs around Cincinnati, Kalani was going through the book to see if Juno was mentioned in it at all. She read & read, but to her disappointment, there wasn’t any information. Kalani suspected the book may have been on Earth long before Juno had shot Sun.

As he sighed & shut the book, Kalani heard a knocking on his door. Kalani got up to answer it.

“Hello! Delivery for Patience!”

Despite this person wearing a post officer uniform & holding an envelope, Kalani could tell this was not a post officer. It was two creatures trying to pull off the trenchcoat trick, but instead of a trenchcoat, it was a post officer uniform. Not to mention, this “delivery” seemed to not be for Kalani.

“Uh.. there’s nobody named ‘Patience’ living here.”

She could hear mumbling from the creature underneath, presumably talking to the creature on top.

“Evil, you dunce! The heroes don’t know about that yet!” “Oops, my bad!”

The mention of heroes made Kalani think these were Celestials. Nobody else knew about the hero thing (except for Natalie & Sorrel).

“Um.. you guys can just come in if that’s easier.” “Oh, thank Fate!” Evil sighed, “walking” inside of Kalani’s apartment. “I did not want to do that trick for another second.” “It was your idea, Evil!” “Oh, whatever, Good.”

As they came inside, the post officer uniform came off, revealing the two creatures in their entirety. One was pure black, with white eyes, & the other was the opposite. They looked to be around the same size in terms of height.

“Hi! I’m Good-” “-& I’m Evil!”

Good appeared to be the pure black one, whilst Evil was the pure white one. They both offered a handshake to Kalani.

“The name’s Kalani. Nice meeting both of you.” she nodded, shaking both of their hands. “I assume you both are Celestials.”

“That would be correct!- Evil, what are you doing?!” “Oh, just inspecting the long throne.”

The “long throne”, as Evil had called it, was Kalani’s couch.

“That’s.. not a throne.” “It is now!” Evil proclaimed, sitting on the couch like royalty.

“Anyways,” Good continued, showing clear disdain for Evil’s actions. “We come bearing news from Fate herself!” “Oh- Yes, yes! Very important news!” “I.. assume that’s what the envelope is about.” “Yup!”

Evil hands the envelope over to Kalani. It was a metallic yellow & gold gradient, & kind of felt like a sheet of metal.

She opened up the envelope & pulled out the letter inside. The paper had a nice texture to it, & the handwriting was quite elegant. Kalani began to read the letter.

“Dear Patience,

We all at the Castle of Celestials would like to inform you of the threat you’re about to assist. Juno is a known chaos-causer around the multiverse; she is not a Celestial. He was banished to Earth for eternity after the murder of Sun.

Juno plans on destroying the Sands of Time once she returns to the Castle. This poses an immense danger to everybody, including Juno himself. You & the other heroes must prevent this from happening.

Unfortunately, fending off Juno with your weapons will not suffice this time. A creature such as her must be permanently stopped. Frozen, if you will.

I’m sure you'll figure out what to do from here. Best of luck.

Sincerely, Fate.”

“We have letters for the others as well. You were just our first stop!” “I see..” Kalani hummed, folding the letter up & setting it aside. “So why does this letter refer to me as Patience?”

“Oh, uhh..” Good & Evil glanced at each other, unsure of how to respond. “That’s just how Fate has always referred to you.”

“Fate.. refers to me as Patience?” “Yea, it’s like this whole thing. Something about values, I think? Fate’s never told us why.” “The other heroes also have names like that as well!” “That’s intriguing.”

Good stretched a little bit, grabbing the hat of the post officer outfit & tossing it over to Evil.

“Well, we best get going now!” Good announced, picking up more of the post officer outfit from the ground. “Got a lotta mail to get through today!”

“Y’know, I could just deliver the letters myself.” “Really?!” “Yeah.” Kalani shrugged. “Just seems more convenient for everyone involved.”

“Well!” Evil grinned, hopping off of Kalani’s couch. “That’s quite kind of you!” “Yes, indeed! We shall go inform Fate of the good news posthaste! Good day to you, Pati- eh, Kalani!”

As Good & Evil scampered out of the dorm room, Kalani sat down on his couch, sighing & thinking back on the letter. It had mentioned that Juno can only be defeated by being frozen. Kalani knew of only one place that could freeze people.

The Auction House.

[risingshine]

He wants to give the Kami a gift. But I can't decide what he wants to give her so he ends up giving her two things. In one of the heavier boxes that he hands her is an ornate scent of gauntlets. Made of white marble and golden lining. Carved with symbols of the Sun. The gauntlets themselves have multiple magical ruins caused into them. The second box he hands her has a necklace inside of it, made of gold with a massive gemstone in the center of the shape of the Sun with Ruby's lining besides the necklace like dancing flames.

"Daww, thank ya!!~ Oh! If ya can make weapons, then I might want ya help with somethin-" Wouldn't you know it, she already has a pair of guantlets: but wouldn't mind an upgrade!

She will happily accept the necklace, putting it on immediatly and showing it off. "How do I look? Its really pretty~"

[ncfertari]

" oi vivi ! " loud voice called out to the princess, he was rushing to catch her once the azure locks of her beauty caught his eye in the distance. ace didn't need to search for long, much to his own surprise. lady luck was smiling to him today, as he managed to run into the princess of alabasta herself. it was a long journey back to alabasta, but it was worth the effort once the pirate presented her with a gift hand - made by himself. " Happy Valentine's day ! i thought … y'gonna like somethin' fancy. " with these words he's got her a pair of bone jewelry. thoughtfully crafted by his own hand. a necklace, and a pair of earrings. " Happy Valentine's day ! "

Valentine's Day Ask: @enjomo

The princess had been waiting for her friends to come back from their adventure just like they had promised all those years ago. She was going for a ride on Kuroo, but when she came back to the castle a servant informed her that someone was waiting for her at the port. Her heart raced when she was told the name of the person she wasted no time urging Kuroo to run faster until they arrived. Hoping off her friend, she glanced around the dock glancing for the male searching for him within the crowd until she heard his voice.

Pausing in her tracks, she did not move until her onyx-colored eyes landed on her friend. Tears started to flow down her eyes as her heart skipped a beat. Maybe the sun was hotter today than usual, as she felt a flush forming on her cheeks. The pirate had always been on her mind as she wondered how he was doing along with the Straw Hats, but she thought of him the most. Smiling she rushed over towards him not caring that she was running barefoot against the desert sand. The ravenette held something in his hand and spoke having a gift for her, but she did not care. All she wanted was to give him a hug and feel him in her embrace to make sure she was not dreaming.

Vivi wrapped her arms around his chest and jumped at him which might have caused him to lose balance as they both ended up on the ground. She sobbed into his chest and squeezed very tight as she did not want to let him go again. After a couple more moments she unwrapped her hands chuckling softly as she wiped away her tears. The princess smiled at him and was grateful for any gift he had made for her.

"Thank you so much, Ace! I missed you so much." Carefully taking the handcrafted jewelry she held closer to her chest as her body trembled from happiness. It was unladylike to be sitting on the ground, but she couldn't help it as she laughed softly before pulling him into another hug. "You being here is the best Valentine's Day gift I could ever ask for. Thank you for coming back."

[scarlett-vixen]

Pirate Mammon

I’m a fucking simp for this boy and also I’ve watched far too much One Piece to ignore this event. So here are my headcanons for our greedy little pirate. I apologize in advance for this trash I’m about to unleash on y’all but anyway here ya go 🎉 (also posting from mobile so lord help me) @yaboihack I’m tagging you simply because you have pirate mammon living rent free in your mind.

Part 2

👑 Mammon won’t let his brothers near his treasure but trusts you with literally anything so he’ll take you to his treasure room pretty often! The room is filled with tons of gold, jewelry, art and other valuables he’s found/stolen from other pirate ships or different ports they’ve visited. In the center of the room is a massive throne that he took from a rival crew, it once belonged to their captain but now he sits there while he sorts through his latest haul each week. Every time you visit he’ll sit you down on the throne and adorn you with the newest necklace, bracelets, or crowns he’s received. He may be a fearsome pirate but he’s still the same ol tsundere we know and love so he’ll look at you sitting there covered in his valuables and his entire face will turn red as he realizes you’re his most prized possession. Every bit of treasure in that room could be stolen or lost during a raid and he wouldn’t care as long as he still had you. He’d fight every pirate on the sea if it would keep you safe and happy, but he’d never actually say any of that out loud (not yet anyway) so instead when you ask why he’s staring at you like that you’ll just get a poorly thought up excuse like “T-those jewels don’t look right on ya, I’ll find somethin that does!”

👑 He’ll find out what your favorite jewel/gemstone is probably has one of his brothers ask and then he makes it his personal mission to find any and every piece of treasure with that stone. Anything from rings, bracelets, necklaces, earrings and crowns or even things like statues and chalices; if it’s got your stone on it then it’s now his to bring home to you. And if that piece of treasure happens to be on the body of a rival pirate? Well… you may want to clean off the dried blood before wearing it….or don’t! Our blushing boy thinks the blood makes you look even hotter, like you were right there with him in the fight.

👑Speaking of fights: they tend to happen more often than you’d like and can go one of two ways. If you’re not a fan of being in the middle of the chaos and would rather not see the bloodshed that’s bound to happen then Mammon will make sure you’re hidden away somewhere until it’s safe. If it’s on the ship then he may hide you in his room with your weapon of choice just in case some dirty pirate got away from him and his brothers and manages to find you. He’s taught you some moves to defend yourself long enough for him to get to you “cause ain’t no way one of the others is gonna save you, so ya better call for me if anything happens!” But it’s all for show, he’d never let anything happen to you. The minute another crew sets foot on the ship or in the bar you’re all at he goes in to protection mode, making sure you’re out of harms way. NOW if you’re a feral gremlin who wants to fight until the sun goes down that’s okay too. Mams isn’t real sure about letting you fight along side them in the beginning but ask him to teach you how to fight? He’s done. Might combust on the spot. One on one time with you AND he gets to watch you be a badass in battle?? “‘Course ya want me to teach ya how to fight, gotta be able to keep up if you’re gonna stay in the crew!” Once the battle comes and you show that you can hold your own in a fight against other pirates? Lucifer may be Avatar of Pride but he’s got nothin on how Mammon feels right now! He’ll get distracted during his own fight while watching you take on 3 guys at once, none of them stand a chance against you and all he can do is grin because even though he started teaching you, those moves you’re using right now are all you. Honestly the more chaotic and feral you are in a fight the better!

👑 Mammon is one of those pirates who is an absolute goofball outside of battle but once a fight breaks out? He’s as feral as they come! The reason he wears his coat open with nothing underneath is because he got tired of trying to get the blood out of his shirts. Easier to clean it off his chest than to worry about washing clothes. Once the fights over he’s back to laughing and joking about whatever he was talking about before the fight broke out. Is that his blood or the other guys? Who cares! He’ll clean up later, right now he wants to celebrate the victory!

👑 Two theories on his eyepatch: one being that there’s literally no need for it. Pirate Mammon still has crow brain, saw a neat eyepatch, and now he wears it. Will absentmindedly flip it up to get a better look at something. Thinks it makes him look tough and will blush if you tease him about it he’s a dork your honor

👑 The other is that he still doesn’t NEED it but he wears it to cover up his dead eye. He still has his eye and it still moves just like the other but he can’t see anything out of it and there’s a wicked scar that goes from above his eyebrow to just below his eye. Instead of the gorgeous blue (I think they’re blue forgive me if I’m wrong) his eye used to be, it’s now a foggy white color and he hates it. Will not discuss his eye if you ask him in front of his brothers, mainly because they warned him not to pick a fight with the pirate who scarred him in the first place. But if the two of you are alone late at night on lookout or if you take him to a bar and he gets a little drunk he’ll tell you the whole story start to finish.

👑 It was back when they first started out as pirates, eager to make his name as one of the most fearsome on the seas Mammon picked a fight with a lot of people and usually he won. Sure he lost a few fights here and there but he always stole their treasure so who cares about some bruises and a black eye. He’ll admit that this fight was one he should’ve walked away from but when a guy challenges you “ya gotta defend your name as a pirate” The fight took a bad turn and Mams knew he was screwed. Luckily the guy only got his eye and not his throat which he was aiming for. Lucifer had scolded him for getting in the fight and Satan had helped care for him while his eye healed. In fact the eyepatch was actually a gift from Satan who knew his brother wouldn’t want the others to see his eye once the bandages came off. (My HC is that Satan is the ships doctor)

👑 If the moment is right he’ll take off the eyepatch and show you his eye. That’s how you know you’ve gained his full trust, none of the others aside from Satan have ever seen the result of that fight. He’ll make it sound like it’s a gruesome sight to look at but really it’s very beautiful. Tell him that and he’ll turn every shade of pink and red there is. “Yer just sayin that cause ya feel bad for me! I don’t need yer pity!” He’ll pout and turn away but he’s watching you from the corner of his good eye. If he sees you still smiling and trying to look at it more he’ll give in and let you. “If you tell the others about it I’ll string you up, got it?” He doesn’t really mean it but he’s gotta make up for the massive amount of blushing he’s doing while you hold his face and look at his scar.

👑 Eventually he’ll get comfortable enough to take his eyepatch off anytime he’s alone with you, knowing that you think it’s badass and not hideous makes him feel so much better. After some time he may even stop wearing it all together but that first time he has it off in front of the brothers you better be ready to be the ultimate hype man! He’s gonna need ALL the confidence boosting to be able to face them after everything that happened the night of that fight. As long as he has you to support him then he’ll do it, and of course once Satan compliments him on how well it healed he’s beaming with confidence.

~ I have so many more thoughts on this but I had to get this out of my mind before I blew up😭

[wearywinchester]

Been Loving You

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: After never having the nerve to tell each other how you feel, an opportunity presents itself even if it takes a little work.

Requested by Anonymous: Hi! Since your requests are on. Can you write a fluff/angst dean and reader fic, they both have feelings for each other and they're too insecure to admit it. And dean flirts with another girl and introduces her to the reader, reader acts like she's fine but then cries??

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: angst, flirting, mild heartbreak, jealousy, arguing, little bit of swearing, fluff, kissing

July, 2005

The day was breezy and warm, the clouds having lessened the heat that came with being in the midst of the summer season. Even if the clouds did nothing to stave off the effect of the sun you’d like to believe it actually had been, and you refused to think otherwise or else you just might break another sweat. You were tucked away in the middle of Bobby’s property amongst a lot full of cars ranging from totaled to rusty to salvageable should he feel like getting his hands dirty that day. He didn’t.

But one person that did was Dean Winchester.

You stood with your arms crossed over your chest, staring out over the dozens of car roofs, each one holding their own story as to just how it was they got there in the first place.

“Wrench,” Dean called out at some point, an instruction you only half heard. It was growing increasingly obvious that your mind was elsewhere, that your attention was directed at the puffy gray clouds in the distance. He’d noticed, peeking his head around the Impala from where’d he’d been working under the hood for an amount of time you lost track of. “Sweetheart, wrench.”

You turned your head at the nickname, a brief look of confusion crossing your face before you realized what it was he’d said. You rolled your eyes at the look on his face, one that softened to a smile as you handed over the wrench grasped in your hand. He took it with a shake of his head and a laugh not quiet enough for you to miss, and you breathed out a sigh.

“You’re a terrible helper, you know,” he jests, voice muffled from where he stood.

“Pretty sure I didn’t ask to help you, De,” you say, leaning back against an old truck.

“Too bad,” he says, flashing you a smile all while you furrowed your brows and pursed your lips at his words.

“Why not have Sam help you? I’m sure he knows more about cars than me.”

You heard him laugh again, head shaking at your assumption that Sam had any form of a clue on how to fix a car, let alone Dean’s car. The thought of Sam under a hood had him chuckling, the idea all too humorous. He pulled back to look at you. “First of all, he definitely wouldn’t. Second of all…”

He trails off, looking at you with a half smirk on his lips.

“What?” You inquire, amused curiosity in your tone.

“Sammy’s just not you,” he shrugs, a glimmer in his eyes as he leans back over the engine.

Your smile falls for just a moment as your heart skips a beat, that very smile returning once you realize just what it was that he had said. He’s just not you. You turned away and looked over your shoulder, a pitiful attempt to hide the way you couldn’t stifle your smile, your cheeks burning at what it was that could mean. Maybe it meant something and maybe it didn’t. But either way it’d surely be stuck on your mind for a ridiculous amount of time.

But soon your attention turns back to the very person that it’s always been on, and you were bound to be teased if he’d caught you staring but the thought didn’t sound quite so bad at that moment. In your defense, it was hard not to think about much else other than the way his brows furrow when he’s stumped on just what he wants to fix next, or the way his cheeks flushed ever so lightly under the sun, his freckles all the more prominent across the bridge of his nose. Smudges of grease had stained his t-shirt, painted across his knuckles and smeared on his forehead each and every time he’d wiped the sweat off with the back of his hand.

Maybe it was that, or maybe it was the way his necklace had dangled down and swung there until he finally got irritated enough to tuck it in his shirt with a mumble of a swear and a clench of his jaw. That was something, though—no matter how frustrated repairing this beloved car of his made him, no matter how much he huffed and puffed and tossed his tools down with a bit more force than necessary. It was the way his anger seemed to melt each time he’d looked at you, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smile before he turned to try again with a better attitude.

Yeah, that was it.

You hadn’t realized just how distracted you’d been until you felt a hand on your cheek, calloused and warm, and when you looked up your eyes met the taunting green gaze of the older Winchester staring down at you. Your breath caught in your throat as the pad of his thumb brushed along your cheek, cheeks that burned under his palm and the way he’d been gazing had your heart pounding in your chest. Racing until you saw the familiar quirk pulling at his lips.

“Got a little somethin’ on your face,” he says, smiling an all too knowing smile.

You roll your eyes, turning away from him with a huff as you begin to walk away. “I’m eating the last slice of pie for that.”

You heard the metallic clink of a tool leave his hand and hit the ground, “no—no you’re not! That has my name on it and you know it.”

You shake your head as you quicken your pace, a smile on your lips as the butterflies in your stomach remain.

October, 2005

You stood in the small, one person bathroom, back to the mirror as you leaned against the small porcelain sink. The tears were already rimming your eyes as you stood there, having been at that same restaurant for forty-five minutes waiting for your date to show up even though you knew it’d been a bust after you’d waited the first fifteen minutes. You were miserable and embarrassed, and this was the exact reason you didn’t like going on dates in the first place.

Your hand was shaky as you pressed Dean’s name, holding your phone up to your ear as it rang all but two times.

He’d make a joke when he answered the phone, something you more than expected by that point each and every time you called him, especially when he knew you were on a date with a guy he’d been poking fun at the whole ride to the restaurant until he’d dropped you off. You couldn’t blame him, maybe you could, but that was just in his nature and there was no changing that.

“Was brown eyes that boring?”

His laugh sounded on the other end, lighthearted and upbeat in a way that had a soft huff leaving your lips as you rolled your eyes at his words.

“Dean,” you grumble, letting your eyes fall closed for a moment.

“Oh, come on. You know I’m not wrong. I just—”

“Dean.”

The simple use of his name that time had effectively cut him and his teasing short, leaving a beat of silence as you swallowed thickly now that you had his full attention. You didn’t even need to see him to be able to picture just what kind of expression he’d been wearing at the moment.

“Can you come pick me up?”

You hated how fragile your voice sounded, something you immediately cover up as you clear your throat in a pitiful attempt to distract him from it. You knew it wouldn’t but it was worth the effort anyway, anything to ease the fact that it must have been obvious that you were hurting.

It’d been all of ten minutes before the rumble of an engine came into earshot as you sat on the curb that bordered the restaurant, gathering more than a few stares of people showing up with their dates in tow. You knew it must have been obvious what you were moping about. The headlights were near blinding as he pulled up next to you, and you were on your feet in an instant as you sulked to the car and slumped in your rightful seat. Your misery was more than evident to him as he sat in the parking lot for a minute much to your dismay.

“Are you okay?” He asks, louder than he meant to be as he gave you a once over.

“Peachy.”

He rolls his eyes. “Are you hurt?”

“Just my ego,” you mumble with a huff, though you soften at the concern sounding in his voice. “‘M fine, Dean.”

His jaw tensed as he looked at you, lingering on the glimmer on your cheeks from the fresh tears you’d tried to wipe away. At the way your bottom lip quivered in a way that was all too telling that you weren’t peachy, you couldn’t be farther from it.

He hadn’t even wanted you to go on that date in the first place, jealousy having simmered in the pit of his stomach since the moment you told him about it. He didn’t even need to see the guy to know he wasn’t good enough for you, that he was up to no good. He hated the tone of your voice when you called him, he hated that he was right. Not that he thought he was good enough for you, not even remotely did he think that, but when you told him about brown eyes, he wanted to be selfish and have you to himself for the night. He wanted to be the one to take you out on that date.

“He’s a dick,” he said quietly, anger woven around his words as he looked at you. “And he damn sure doesn’t deserve you.”

You looked down at your lap, picking at the loose string of your dress. “Can we please go?”

He looked at you as you went and looked out of the window, jaw clenching even tighter as he gave you one more glance. He put the car in drive without another word, tires squealing as he sped out of the parking lot, headed back towards the motel.

March, 2006

The sticks cracked beneath two pairs of muddied boots, the sound near deafening in contrast to the silence amongst the woods you and Dean had found yourself in. It wouldn’t have been quite so bad if you knew where you’d been going even just a little bit, and it wouldn’t have been quite so bad if the sun wasn’t dipping lower and lower into the sky. Not to mention the fact that Dean was simmering in his own anger, and you were fairly certain that you were the cause. In fact, you knew you were.

The light rain that sprinkled over you ever so slightly through the trees hadn’t done very much to work in your favor, though you don’t think anything could at this point. Especially not the scrape grazing your cheek.

“Would you quit huffing? We’ll find a way out of here,” you finally say, nearly smacking into his back when he stops in front of you.

“Right, because we’re totally not stuck in the middle of freakin’ nowhere. If it weren’t for you we’d be out of here by now,” he snaps, brows furrowed deeply as he looks down at you.

“Oh, so this is my fault now?”

He laughed then, humorless as he looked away and shook his head, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek. You knew he was dangerously close to snapping, more than he already did, but even then you couldn’t find it in yourself to tread lightly.

“If I recall correctly, it was your brilliant plan to go and run off and chase a werewolf all by yourself in the woods. You went and got yourself hurt and you nearly got yourself killed. That seems a lot to me like how we got into this mess, doesn’t it, Y/n?”

“Dean—”

“You’re lucky you only came out of there with a scrape on your cheek and a busted lip.”

Your brows knit together and your fists clench, nearly on the verge of tears with how frustrated you’d been at the green eyed Winchester fuming in front of you. “Why are you so mad? I’m here aren’t I?”

He looked as if you’d asked the most ridiculous question he’s ever heard in his life. “Mad? Why am I so mad? You went out there today like you’re invincible. I’m angry because I—”

He cut himself short then, shaking his head as he looked away from you. Those three words were so close on the tip of his tongue he nearly made a fool of himself, his heart pounding and a huff puffing through flared nostrils as you nearly watched him unravel in front of you. The crease between your brows deepens as you watch his inner turmoil, fists relaxing at your sides.

“Forget it,” he says, just as frustrated as he plays it off and looks down at you just briefly. His jaw clenches once more before he hikes his bags up further in his shoulder, grabbing your hand and turning his back to you. “Can’t have you getting lost on me again.”

You roll your eyes but not once did you pull your hand from his.

July, 2006

Your eyes rolled for what had to be the millionth time that night as you slumped further down in your seat, your eyes lingering on the older Winchester and the girl he’d been flirting with at the bar counter for the last half an hour. Sam had caught on to the source of your misery not long after it began, but between the pout you tried so desperately to hide and the way it started right around the time his brother started talking to the pretty girl serving drinks just a few feet away, it wasn’t hard to figure out.

“Am I boring you?” Sam jests, closing the book of notes and newspaper clippings he’d been working from for the next hunt. Your gaze lifts from the table to meet his gaze, unamused by his teasing. “You know, instead of sulking, you could tell him how you feel.”

You snort as you sit up in your seat, dragging your hand down your face. “Sam, that might be the stupidest idea you’ve ever had.”

“Oh, come on. Would it be so bad?”

One glance over your shoulder had your stomach churning and twisting in knots, your gaze moving back to the brunette with the bad ideas. “Yes Sam, it would be terrible.”

The more you sat at that table the less you wanted to be there, the music having grown far too loud for your liking as a headache began to form. This wasn’t the first or the second time you’d been to this bar, it was the third because Dean had eyes for the beautiful bartender. Your food was nearly completely untouched and your drink the same, though you were starting to think it might be a good idea to go ahead and down it but there wasn’t nearly enough time to do that and get another argument in with Sam before that ever familiar voice got your attention.

“Everyone,” he starts, smiling ear to ear as his arm wrapped around her. “I’d like you to meet Julie.”

His grin was beaming as she laughed into his neck, whispering something in his ear that you surely didn’t want to know. Sam’s smile in your direction was as empathetic as ever, your heart sinking down to your stomach as you swirl your straw in your drink. The room was rapidly becoming more suffocating and stuffy, the commotion near nauseating as the pressure behind your eyes deepened. You couldn’t be there another moment.

“I’m feeling a little tired, I—I think I’m gonna go,” you say as you swallow down the lump in your throat, sudden as you rise from your seat and grab your bag.

The smile on Dean’s face fell slightly, brows furrowing. “You okay?”

“‘M fine,” you say, offering a smile as you brush past the pair in favor of making your way to the door.

The outside air, though not very much cooler than the bar, felt better on your skin as you clutched the strap of your bag. The tears that welled in your eyes wasted no time in spilling over your cheeks now that you were alone, lip quivering pitifully as the hurt in your heart seeped out in waves and made your tears fall faster. They rolled down your heated cheeks and raced along the length of your neck, gathering on the collar of your shirt one after another.

Falling in love with your best friend doesn’t seem so bad until it breaks your heart.

September, 2006

Of all the people to be trapped in a storm with, Dean Winchester isn’t one you’d wanted it to be. The rain had been coming down so hard you could barely see the Impala parked outside the motel room. The wind whipping around had cut the power, effectively stealing your chances of busying yourself with some tv to take your mind off of anything other than the man you shared a room with.

Locking yourself in the bathroom would certainly be an option you’d weighed over more than once in your mind, but the thought of sitting alone in a small room with absolutely no source of light hadn’t been something that enticing to you. The only light in the motel room was the frequent flash of lightning and Dean’s flashlight before the batteries died.

“When’s this storm supposed to die down?” He asked from his bed, getting up to peek out through the blinds.

“Why? You late for a date with Julie?”

It’s quiet for a few moments, the blinds snapping back once he lets go of them and you could feel his stare on you as you looked up at the ceiling from your spot on your bed. Your jaw clenched as another flash of lightning illuminated the room, a booming crack of thunder soon to follow it. You were just waiting for what he had to say.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” There it was.

“I think it’s pretty clear,” you say, tone as witty as it’d been for the last who-knows-how-long.

“We broke up a month ago, Y/n. ‘M surprised you don’t already know that. You know, since you’re the know it all of the friendship.”

You roll your eyes even though he can’t see you, a huff falling past your lips. “Quit it, Dean.”

“What is your problem, Y/n? You’ve been actin’ funny for weeks and it’s driving me crazy. You’re taking every chance you get to get away from me,” he says, anger woven around his every word as his voice raises over the thunder.

“I can’t exactly do that right now,” you say, rolling over on your side as you avoid his question and turn your back to him instead.

You heard him laugh to himself, one void of humor as the springs of his mattress squeak under his weight as he sat down. Your jaw tenses once more as you huff through your nose, loud enough for him to hear as you tried your best to make yourself comfortable for the night.

The emotions clouding your mind were bound to boil over at some point before the night is over now that you’d been stuck with the source of your heartache and you weren’t sure if you’d rather stay or walk through the downpour coming down outside. The more you thought on it, the more you thought better of it despite how tempting it may have been.

The simple sight of him had tugged at your heart, making you think of just how foolish it was to fall for your best friend, or perhaps even more so that you hadn’t told him before. You couldn’t get Sam’s words out of your head no matter how hard you tried. If Sam of all people thinks you should have then maybe it wouldn’t have been a bad idea to put your heart on the line. Maybe you should’ve said it, you certainly had plenty of opportunities to do it. But it didn’t matter anymore, not really, your heart was heavy and your mind was heavier as you sulked and moped in your own misery.

You pushed away your own best friend and it was time you’d never get back, all because you had feelings you couldn’t swallow down. But they were always there, and now they’d gone and boiled over.

“You wanna know why it didn’t work out between us?” He asks, sudden as his question cuts through the quiet in the room save for the ongoing storm. You don’t say a word, laying still as your gaze is fixed on the wall and your back remains to him. You don’t know what he could possibly say or what it was supposed to make you feel but you couldn’t find it in yourself to press for an answer. If he told you, fine, but if he didn’t—

“It didn’t work because she wasn’t you.”

You stilled even more if that was possible, your heart skipping more than a few beats as your brows furrow. You were utterly baffled, unsure if you’d even heard him correctly or if it was some dream you’d been having that you were bound to wake up from. Your movement was sudden as you sat up and turned around, the faint bit of light illuminating the expression you held.

“What?”

He sat across from you on the edge of his bed, brows knit together in the dim lighting. He laughed softly as he looked at his hands, shaking his head. He stood to his feet and ran his hands through his hair, pacing a bit before he stood still.

“You’re my best friend, Y/n. You’re a pain in the ass, sure, but you’re my best friend,” he starts, your lips pursing as he cracked a smile. “I don’t know how I didn’t see it lately, I really don’t. But I’ve been lovin’ you since I was sixteen and it took me ten years and a month full of you ignoring me to see it. She’s not you, Y/n.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He laughed softly, rubbing his face and releasing a sigh.

“Because, my life isn’t exactly a chick flick where the guy gets the girl of his dreams, is it, sweetheart? It’s more of a tragic Lifetime movie where the guy’s best friend falls for someone else,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he looked at his feet.

You swallowed thickly as you looked at him, cheeks burning and stomach filled with butterflies that raged in your stomach. You were at a loss for words as you sat there, starting to wonder for the second time that night if what you were hearing was a dream. Dean Winchester, your best friend, the one you’d spend the better part of ten years pining after, was in love with you. You couldn’t grasp that thought. Not that you had much time to before he spoke up.

“Sweetheart, please say something. I know you’re mad at me but right now I’m starting to feel a little bit like a complete idiot and I—”

Before he could finish you’d already stood to your feet and grabbed the collar to his leather jacket, your lips on his without second thought. It took him by surprise for just a moment before his hands settled on your face, his smile pressing into your lips. You pulled away for just a second, his lips lingering over yours in hopes you wouldn’t stray too far. You wouldn’t, just enough for you to say one more thing.

“You are an idiot.”

He huffed out a soft laugh as his breath brushed warmly against your lips, hands dropping from your face in favor of pulling you closer before he dipped down and kissed you again.

—

Tags: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @dean-is-sams-apple-pie @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes

[thiswasinevitableid]

29 for indruck nsfw? i am already amused thinking about what sport either of them would play

Here you go!

29. I’m a professional athlete and I just fired my personal assistant and my manager sent you over but you don’t even know what sport I play or who my team is

When you’re in an aggressive profession it’s best, in Duck’s experience, to be as calm and friendly as you can the rest of the time.

But this whole shit-show is testing his fucking limits.

It’s been two days since he found out his perfectly fine P.A was working for the Wallstreet Journal, hoping to learn that Duck was somehow using his T or his identity to gain an unfair edge in matched. Ned fired him on the spot, thank god, but it took less than twelve hours for the guy to publish some fabricated piece on his attitude and for Duck to remember why he needed an assistant in the first place. He’s gotten so used to having one that he keeps forgetting stuff or dropping the ball on appointments, and the last thing he needs right now is to look like some stupid hick.

When Ned texts him to let him know his new P.A is en route, Duck groans “thank fuck” loud enough to startle the cat from her tree.

He goes to the door when someone knocks, but doesn’t open it.

“Who is it?”

“Indrid Cold? I, ah, Mr. Chicane said this was Duck Newton’s address and I’m supposed to start as his assistant tomorrow.”

Duck opens the door, “Fuck tomorrow, you’re startin today. I gotta focus on strategy with Minerva the next two days if I don’t wanna show my ass Friday night and it’s real fuckin hard to do that with people callin me left and right.” He guides the startled young man inside, then stops to take a deep breath, “sorry, lemme try that again” he holds out his hand, “Nice to meet you, Indrid.”

“Likewise, Mr. Newton.”

“Duck is fine. It’s a nickname. You bring your stuff with you?”

“Yes, it’s all in my car.”

“Good. Here, lemme give you the, uh, the grand tour, so to speak, on the way to your part of the place.”

Indrid smiles and nods, hanging back slightly as Duck leads him through the house. They cover the living room, kitchen, Duck’s bedroom, then come what was once the garage door.

“This here’s the gym; you can’t find me in the rest of the house, I’m probably here.”

“Goodness” The other man’s eyes widen behind his red glasses, “that’s an impressive array. I mean, I know professional athletes need to train but I, ah, I assumed you did it on site with the rest of your team.”

“Team?” Duck closes the door, spots Indrid’s fingers diving into his pockets to hide their twitching.

“Yes.”

“Which team?”

“Your...sports team?”

“....you got no fuckin clue who I am, do you?”

“No.” Narrow shoulders sag in his sweater.

Duck chuckles, “Figures.”

The silver haired head snaps back up, “Mr. Chicane didn’t say it was a prerequisite for hiring me.”

“Guess he didn’t. And I guess it ain’t. Just hoped they’d hire someone who knew what the fuck he was gettin into.”

Indrid crosses his arms, “They gave me a very thorough job description. I assure you I can do every part of it. Laying out your pre-workout and scheduling appearances isn’t rocket science, and it doesn’t matter if the dry cleaning I pick up is for a, a baseball after party or some sort of charity basketball fundraiser.” It dawns on the taller man that he’s just snapped at his boss. He contracts in on himself, staring down at his black converse.

Duck takes the chance for a more careful look; all of his clothes are second hand, chosen as if he’s cosplaying a jock who went into white collar work. There are piercing holes in his ears, flecks of silver polish on his nails. This job application was a hail mary and Ned Chicane went ahead and caught.

“No harm done, slim.” He rests a friendly hand on Indrid’s arm, “think it’s time I enlightened you.”

His office doesn’t get used much, so a sprinkling of dust greets them as he flips on the lights and reveals posters, magazine covers, and newspaper clips bearing Duck’s face. The gloves he used to win his first fight hang in a place of honor, right above the photo of him and the other fighters from Amnesty Boxing. It’s an older photo, taken the first time they sent a team out of state, sun-faded to the point the writing on it is disappearing. It makes him smile all the same.

“This does explain the set of instructions for helping you cut weight if needed.” Indrid takes in the posters, then turns his attention to the corner dedicated to Duck’s model ship collection. He cocks his head, says more to himself than Duck, “boxer. Interesting.”

“Were you just gonna bluff about knowin who I was until I said somethin?”

“That and look for clues in the rest of the house.”

He smiles, “Like a man with a plan b. C’mon, lemme show you your room.”

-----------------------------------------

Alright, so Indrid should have researched Duck Newton before turning up at his house so he didn’t come across as ignorant and unprepared. But he was busy running every Taskrabbit and UberEat he could get just to scrape up enough to keep his landlord off his back. Sue him for not wanting to sleep in his car again.

He never expected to get this job; live-in P.A who doesn’t have to pay for groceries (buy them, yes, since that’s one of his jobs) is not the kind of luck he’s familiar with. He keeps waiting for the catch, so nervous that when Duck pops in on him unpacking he assumes he’ll scold him for his wardrobe.

“I, should I buy some more professional clothes?”

Duck takes in the two duffle bags and backpack, “Up to you. I don’t mind you lookin like the little art punk you are, but a dress shirt or two might help if we gotta go somewhere real upscale. Don't worry about buyin it yourself; just use the same card we do for groceries.”

Indrid is still hung up on why the fact a man three inches shorter than him calling him “little” makes his chest burn. Luckily, the phone rings and distracts him. Then it rings again. And again. And again. All while the inbox doubles every time he looks at it.

This turns out to be the catch; the work is actually hard. Everyone and their uncle wants to interview Duck, get him to sponsor something, or proposition him. Four hours in, he’s overwhelmed, overstimulated, and ready to hide under the desk. His fidget necklace isn’t helping, so he pulls out his chewable one; it often helps him think in high pressure moments.

The phone rings again and he growls at it.

“You’re allowed to let things go to voicemail, y’know.”

He spins in his chair, black rubber moth still in his mouth. Duck leans in the doorway, tank top soaked in sweat and towel around his shoulders

“I, I’m sorry. I just don’t want to drop anything important.”

“Ned handles the fights and the money, and anyone I care about has my private number for emergencies.”

“Right. I knew that.” Indrid can’t have his boss thinking he’s a total space-case.

Duck smiles, “What I’m sayin is; ain’t the end of the world if you don’t get back to everyone right away. Besides, right now you need a lunch break, slim. Lemme go rinse off and I’ll join you.”

By the time Duck enters the kitchen in an old “NIN” shirt and jeans, Indrid has his protein bowl laid out for him and is finishing microwaving a hot pocket for himself. Before he can scurry away, Duck pats the seat beside him and Indrid sits down, preparin to politely listen to Duck talk about himself or his sport.

He talks for ten minutes about the trees he saw on his run that morning before asking Indrid what he did before coming to the house. Indrid explains about his art and his side hustles in tarot and palm reading, about the run of bad luck that saw him without roommates and lost him his steady gig at a coffee shop. Duck makes genuinely sympathetic noises, lets Indrid change the subject when the fact he was on the edge of disaster makes Indrid’s chest tighten. They’re still talking about music as Indrid returns to his desk and Duck goes to meet Minerva in the gym.

By the time Duck’s fight rolls around that weekend, Indrid is feeling much better. He has a system of sorting emails that works for him, some mothman stickers to help him organize the paper calendar on his desk, and more confidence in his ability to spot callers with ulterior motives. He’s shut down two separate ones looking to trap Duck into interviews where he’d be forced to defend his very identity. Duck overheard his responses to the second one and brought him back a fancy creme brulee latte from his breakfast as a thank you.

He doesn’t go to the fight; it’s a small one for charity and Duck has Ned to manage him, Minerva to train him, and Leo to coach him ringside. He doesn’t need his P.A. Instead, Indrid finishes up his correspondence for the day, makes sure Duck’s breakfast is all set in the fridge, and confirms the masseuse is coming in the morning.

Once in bed, Indrid gets sucked into the commission he’s doing and is lost to the world until a tired, satisfied face pokes through his door.

“Oh! Hello Duck. Did it go well? Do, ah, is there something you need from me?”

“Yep, I won like I thought I would. And nope; was just poppin in to say goodnight.”

No one’s said that to him in a long time. The bitterness of that realization is sweetened by Duck’s smile.

“Goodnight to you too, Duck.”

------------------------------------------

Minerva is sick, which wouldn’t be a problem except for one part of his workout. He could skip it, but he needs to keep everything sharp for when they go to L.A.

“‘Drid? You got a few minutes?”

His assistant appears in the doorway, black jeans and white “Cramps” tank-top fitting him in a way that makes Duck want to hold him face down on the floor and find out how to take his breath away.

“What do you need?”

Duck points to the heavy bag, “You up for bracin this while I hit it?”

“I...I am not as strong as Minerva.”

“You don’t gotta be; this is just to keep the damn thing from swinging while I’m doin this speed drill.”

“Alright.” Indrid takes off his glasses and sets them on the folding chair, joining Duck, “how do I hold it?”

Duck shows him, does a few test punches to make sure he won’t send the poor guy flying. The round clock dings green, and he’s off. The bag wobbles for the first few seconds, then Indrid seems to find his footing and holds it stable enough for the drill to work. When the round ends, Duck steps baack, “okay, you can let go until the next round.”

“Goodness.” Indrid stretches his hands, “I feel for your opponents. I’m jarred just from that.”

“You need to stop? I got two more rounds at least, but if it’s hurtin you I caan skip ‘em.”

Indrid shakes his head, smiling, “nono, I like helping you with this. It’s exhilarating.”

The bell dings.

“Glad to hear it. Now brace it again.”

By the end of round three, Indrid is panting loud enough for Duck to hear him over the fan. He looks up, glove still on the bag, and finds them face to face.

“Minerva said three to five rounds for this. You wanna keep goin?”

Indrid, breathless and grinning, nods, “Can’t have you slacking off, now can we?”

Duck wants to bite his lip, just to see what happens. Blames the thought on the adrenaline. Then discovers the exact same thought waiting for him when Indrid, cleaned and in his most respectable clothes, joins him in the car to go to an interview.

Ned gave the P.A a list of likely questions, so they practice those as they creep across the Bay Bridge. But Duck notices that on both the trip there and back, whenever there’s a lull in conversation Indrid is on his phone reading about boxing. Duck knows the other man fixates on topics that interest him; knowing one of Duck’s passions has earned that distinction makes him smile.

After that, he starts inviting Indrid to watch him train, or shares his thoughts about matches with him. That’s all it takes for Indrid to start drawing him into long, animated conversations about his sport. When Indrid asks why there’s such debate over the proper way to wrap hands and also how does Duck do his, Duck demonstrates.

“Here, ‘Drid, now you try it on me.”

The P.A moves the wraps slowly, deliberately, moving Duck’s hand like it’s a priceless treasure he’s readying for transport. Every time he bites his lip in concentration or brushes hair from his forehead, Duck has to remind himself to breathe.

“Done.” Indrid is still holding his left hand, “Did I do well?”

The boxer tests the wraps, wiggles his fingers and clenches his fists. Then he squeezes Indrid’s hand, “you did perfect, slim.”

Duck can wrap his hands in his sleep. But whenever he’s home, he finds Indrid and asks him to do the honors. Indrid does them every time. Perfectly.

---------------------------------------------

Indrid stands in the green room with Ned and a cluster of arena employees. The roaring crowd a few walls away echoes through the screen. He’s never seen Duck fight, but this event required all hands on deck to handle P.R, scheduling, and making sure Duck had what he needed to win.

Duck and his opponent enter the ring. Touch gloves.

Indrid’s pulse climbs.

Then the bell sounds and no useful noises come through the T.V. Just the announcers shouting and being drowned out by the crowd. Indrid gives up on parsing the cacophony, focus only on Duck. He’s seen him practice, but in a true match he’s a different beast. His opponent is faster, that much is clear, but Duck is patient, steady, blocks and weaves until he can land blows that make Indrid hurt just watching them.

Duck is magnificent like this. Indrid has to draw him like this, has to capture this and keep it forever, he has to, he has…

He has a hard-on in the middle of the green room.

He sticks it out long enough to see Duck win and then bolts to the bathroom so it can be taken care of by the time the boxer is done with the post-fight interviews.

They go out to celebrate, and Duck never nudges Indrid aside to let someone more important sit next to him. And as the drive to the hotel, he nods off with his head on Indrid’s shoulder.

It only gets worse after that.

Duck will coax him into joining him for a run with the promise of a fancy breakfast. On cheat days, Duck orders food to the house or takes Indrid out to lunch, and somehow the thing he wants when not focused on macros is always the thing Indrid mentioned he’d been craving. He invites Indrid on hikes with him, starts taking him to all his events even though he seldom needs help or herding at them (“yeah, but it’s nice to have someone to crack jokes with”). And on days when Indrid needs to be alone, or wants to see other friends, Duck simply smiles and closes the door.

The most dangerous days are the ones without anything on the schedule. Then it’s all too easy for Indrid to pretend that they’re something they’re not while he draws at the table across from where Duck is building his model ship. Too easy to imagine that the water-wise garden Duck tends is something he put into their house, not his house that Indrid happens to live in. Too easy to admit that Indrid wants to look after him for no payment except being looked after in return.

Duck reciprocating his feelings is within the realm of possibility. Indrid’s caught him staring when he walks in on the P.A doing yoga, and the casual touches long ago made the leap from accidental to deliberate. He also knows that Duck can’t fire him--only Ned can--and hopes that might lead to the boxer slinging him over his shoulder and tossing him on the bed one of these days.

There’s also the tabloid site circulating a photo of them with a caption claiming he’s Duck’s “boytoy” in spite of them only being two years apart. They’re not even sitting that close in the picture; Duck’s just smiling at him like he’s the only thing in the world, that’s all.

Currently, he’s having an easier time keeping his feelings buried because--ever since they landed in Vegas-- Duck has been a dick the rest of the day. Well, as much as a dick as he can be; his offenses are mainly snapping at people and lacking his usual patience.

When he scolds Indrid over something silly in the hotel that night, Indrid turns and stares at him over his glasses.

“Duck, what’s wrong?”

“Wh-uh, fuck, nothing, why do you, uh, fuck, I’m fine.”

“You just snapped at me in a way that was completely uncalled for.” He crosses his arms, “is it the fight? I know it’s a big one but that’s no reason to be rude.”

Duck scratches the back of his neck, “You’re gonna laugh at me.”

“I swear I won’t. Or, if I do, it will be after you leave.”

That gets a smile, “I’m uh, well, I’m what you’d call ‘horny as all fuckin get out.’”

Indrid’s immediate thoughts would solve the problem at hand while creating a new and far worse set, so he keeps them to himself and replies, “If need privacy, I can come back later and hold all your calls.”

“Nah.” Duck sits on the bed, “You’re not supposed to get off before a fight. Makes you too relaxed.”

“That strikes me as an old wives tale. Old boxers tale?”

“Either way, it’s one Minerva still believes. If I lose, she will ask about every possible cause, includin that one. Better if I just cat nap before I start all my pre-match stuff. Come get me in fort minutes?”

“Of course.” Indrid waves and closes the door before he offers to lay down in the hopes of Duck having a wet dream while holding him.

--------------------------------------------------------

Duck wins, though it’s a tough battle to get there. He fucking hates these Pay-Per-View fights, they try to make it sound like he’s got beef with the other guy. In reality, once he’s down from a knockout, Duck is the one who helps him to the other side of the ring.

There’s a flurry of press afterwards, of questions and congratulations while all he wants to do is shower. He gets clean, promises Ned they can all go out to celebrate later. As he and Indrid finally escape to his suite he’s forced to admit that--if the thoughts of hitting the “fire” button and fucking Indrid against the wall are any indication--his problem from earlier hasn’t gone away.

“Do you need me to see if I can get a masseuse up here? You look very stiff.”

“Just uh, just tense.” Why did he tell Indrid he liked those jeans on him? He’s worn them as often as he can since.

Indrid cocks an eyebrow, “Still pent up even though the fighting is done?”

“Yep.”

The P.A shakes his head, hiding a smirk, “Do you need me to find something for you to watch?”

“No.”

“I mean it, this place has all the good channels.” He’s so earnest, picking up the channel guide like it, rather than those fucking jeans and shirt with Duck’s name on it, has what Duck needs.

“No.” He growls.

Indrid sighs, sets the book back down, “This mood is annoying us both, so just tell me what kind of porn you want and I can go out and buy it.”

“Unless they got somethin called ‘boxer jackhammers skinny artist until he cries’ we’re gonna be shit out of luck!”

The P.A blinks, “Duck, this is Vegas, I can probably find that. Or look for it on your laptop…” he trails off when their eyes meet. Duck knows he must look like he’s ready to jump him. Indrid licks his lips, “Duck? What, ah, what exactly lead to this situation?”

“You really wanna know, slim?” Duck steps across the carpet, notices Indrid padding over the black and blue patterns to meet him.

“Yes.”

Duck removes Indrid’s glasses, “Had a dream about you while I was on the plane. Woke up havin just finished fuckin you open. First thing I thought was “no big deal, ‘Drid’s right here. We can do the real thing once we get to the hotel.’ Then I fuckin remembered that we couldn’t, and I know for damn sure that if I jerk off I won’t feel satisfied because you’re be over there” he jabs his thumb at the door connecting their rooms, “so close and completely outta my reach.”

“So keep me right here instead.” Indrid purrs, fingers tentatively finding Duck’s hips. The light contact splinters his self-control and he practically tackles Indrid onto the bed, kissing him as the taller man moans and paws at his clothes.

The kiss takes the heat off enough to clear the steam fogging up his head and sits up, “This really okay?”

“I would have said if it wasn’t now for goodness sake please get back down here.” Indrid yanks him forward by the front of his shirt, smashing their lips together. He’s humming and sighing every time Duck touches him, rolling his hips to display a quickly forming hard-on.

“Aw, sugar, you gettin excited just from kissin’?” Duck grinds down just to see him gasp.

“Y-yes. I, Duck, I’ve wanted this for months.”

The implication of those words slam his desire into overdrive, “You sneaky little thing, that why you kept runnin around in tight clothes?”

“Most of my clothes h-hang off me.” Indrid holds tight to Duck’s thighs as the boxer strips his shirt off, “but yes I, I did start wearing what you liked more often.”

“Ain’t that thoughtful. And what were you hoping would happen, slim?” Duck yanks his sweats off and kicks them to the floor.

“This.” Indrid’s eyes keep slipping down to stare at Duck’s dick.

The boxer strokes himself lazily, “like what you see?”

“So much.”

“Then how about a closer look, sugar?” He crawls up Indrid’s body to straddle his face. It looks even better than normal framed by his thighs.

“Do I get to touch too?”

Duck guides his hands onto his ass, “As much as you want. You gonna be sweet and let me fuck your face, or am I gonna have to hold your mouth open?”

Indrid opens his mouth instantly, a whimper creeping out of it as Duck strokes his hair. The sound morphs into a louder, but muffled, moan when Duck sinks down. He teases his dick against Indrid’s lips, drags slick across his chin, feels his jaw tremble with wanting to close. Duck shifts so his dick touches Indrid’s tongue, “get to it. Oh fuck” he braces a hand on the wall, “heh, didn’t know Ned screened for cocksuckin skills.”

Indrid shakes his head, brown eyes wide as Duck roughly rides his face.

“No? He didn’t make you demonstrate on some of the other fighters? Didn’t make sure you could make a whole gym cum to prove your mouth was good enough for me?”

“‘O” Indrid shakes his head again, silver strands sticking to the pillow as he kneads Duck’s ass in a way that makes him groan.

“Too bad for them. Because now they ain’t ever gonna get a chance.”

A whimper and write of the torso; Duck glances over his shoulder to watch Indrid buck his hips in the air, pre-cum clear on his crotch. His feet, still in their shoes, point and flex as he moans around Duck’s dick.

“You like that, don’t you sugar?” He threads both hands into Indrid’s hair, pinning his head down or pulling it closer as it suits him, all the while gently rubbing his scalp “like knowin’ that you’re doin well.”

A harder suck in reply.

“Then be a good little cocksucker and make me cum.” He holds his head down and let’s loose, grinding and grunting in pursuit of the heat that starts at Indrid’s tongue and is steadily curling up into Duck’s belly. The other man holds him tight, moaning and licknig and sucking until Duck cums on his mouth, the lasts bursts of it happening against a slackening jaw.

As soon as his legs cooperate, he climbs off and guides Indrid to sit up in his arms. His attempt to check on the other man is interrupted by a frantic kiss.

“I was gonna ask if you wanna keep goin’, but I think I got my answer.”

“Yes, I mean no, I mean please don’t stop yet. Please I, we can do whatever you like, we can do just this, you can drag me out on the balcony and fuck me in full view of the city-”

“Easy, slim, easy.” Duck cups his cheek, “let’s start with somethin simple. Get naked and get comfy on your back for me. I gotta go grab somethin from down the hall.”

His memory turns out to be spot on; the vending machine on this floor has toiletries, including condoms and a travel bottle of lube. He buys ten of one and three of the other, drops them in the pockets of his robe and hurries back to Indrid. Sprawled on the bed, he looks painfully vulnerable, like someone who got used to life kicking him and telling him to stay down.

It’ll be different when they’re together, Duck can promise that much.

“Seem to recall you wanting me to keep you here.” He grabs a handwrap, holds it where Indrid can see, “how do you feel about me usin this?”

“Extremely good. Oh, oh hello.” He laughs when Duck rolls down beside him to pepper his face with kisses. The process of trapping his hands to the headboard is prolonged thanks to their mutual need to keep kissing every five seconds.

“Now” Duck kisses his shoulder, “I didn’t bring any toys to fuck you with, so it’s just gonna be my hand.”

“You say that as if it’s a disappointment to me and not incredibly sexy.”

“Some folks don’t think you’re fuckin ‘em unless you use somethin dick-shaped.” Duck shrugs with a flicker of sadness from the last time he had that conversation.

“Tell me who insulted your body or your skills in bed and I shall stand outside their window with a megaphone informing them of how terrible their manners are and how they missed out on the finest man in the world.”

“That’d be funny” Duck leisurely kisses his belly and hips before sitting up, “but you’d have to get outta bed.”

“True. Ah well, a sternly worded email will have do OOOh, oohhhyes.” He wiggles his hips as Duck presses in the first finger, relaxing under his touch.

“Get the feelin you’ve done this before”

“Yes.” Indrid’s chest is flushed and Duck reaches up his free hand to play with his nipples.

“What’s the most you’ve taken?”

“Th-three, I believe. I, ah, I’m usually facing away so I sometimes lose track.”

“You're takin four tonight. Can’t believe anyone would wanna miss out on how you look when you’re getting fucked.” He teases the second finger to prove his point and Indrid’s mouth curves with bliss.

“My ass is many people’s type; my face not so much.”

“Fuck that.” Duck pushes the second finger in. Indrid arches, then sighs as Duck keeps working him open.

“I find it difficult to care what they thought right now. I, ahhhn, it’s much more fun to think about you.”

“About me…?”

“About right you’re doing right now and, AH, what we can do next. I do so want to sit in your lap in the hot tub back home.”

“Can manage that. What else?”

“I’d very much l-like to fuck you, however you’ll let me and, and I want us to do it right after you train some day, you look so good like thatAHgod.” The third finger is in and Indrid is now steadily pushing down on them, “and one of the times you get me to run with you I expect a blow job in reward oh, ohfuck” his eyes are wild and eager, “please do the last one, I’m ready, I want it so badly, please.”

Duck begins teasing the fourth finger, “Think all those wants of yours sound real good. You wanna know mine?”

“Absolutely. AHaahnnnahgod” The wrap tightens as Indrid clings to it, trying to stabilize himself as Duck fucks his hand into him hard.

“Soon as we get home, I’m gettin the strap-on and fuckin you for a solid hour at least. Gonna leave you so fuckin raw and relaxed you won’t wanna do anything but lay there, and you’ll goddamn get to because you’re mine and I’m gonna take care of you.”

“Duck” it’s a happy sob, Indrid’s cock bobbing in the air.

“Gonna take a trip somewhere private, just the two of us, and you’re gonna spend the whole fuckin time tied up, to the bed, a chair, whatever the fuck else I feel like so I can ride your dick whenever I want.”

“Yes.” Indrid is barely getting out words between his cries.

“And the next time you have the fuckin nerve to wear tight jeans the day I gotta fight, I’m gonna shove a vibration plug up that cute little ass and lock your cock in a cage so we can both be horny without bein able to get off.”

“Duck please, I’m close, please touch-”

He wraps his fingers around Indrid’s dick and works him over hard and fast, “Soon as I’m done with that fight, you’re gonna blow me in the locker room so I can focus on nailin your ass into next week when we get--ohfuck!” Cum hits his chin as Indrid gasps and squeaks, scratching at the wraps and the headboard.

If Duck ever loses his memory, he hopes this is the last moment to go; Indrid Cold, happy, safe, and satisfied while he moans Duck’s name.

Indrid is boneless as Duck undoes the bonds, though he rallies enough to pull the boxer into a hug so he can cuddle him like a teddy bear. He kisses his throat, feels his pulse even out beneath his lips.

“Duck? Does, ah, does this mean what I think it does?”

The phone rings right as he’s about to answer. It’s probably Ned, so he holds up a finger and grabs the receiver.

“Go for Duck. Yeah, yeah that’ll be fine” he nods as Ned explains the plan for their exclusive, late night dinner, “yeah, tell ‘em five; you, Minerva, Leo, me and” he winks at a beaming Indrid, “my boyfriend.”

[twstarchives]

Ruggie Bucchi・Voice Lines

Additional Voice Lines: Gala Couture Event Card

School Uniform - R

Unlock Card “The secret to feeling good is eating! As long as you eat, everything’ll be OK!”

Groovy “My studies, huh...? This is what’s gonna put food on my table, so I’m taking them seriously.”

Home Setting “They say there’s no such thing as a free lunch, you know?”

Home Transitions “I’m busy cleaning up Leona’s room right now. What? You wanna help? Man, thanks a bunch!”

“Mages who grew up in the slums like me are pretty rare.”

“Are you sure you should be spacing out like that? Time is money, you know.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “Do you need somethin’ from me? I’ll listen if you say you’ll treat me to something.”

Home Taps “My uniform? It’s a hand-me-down from Leona. It’s a little big, but I can still wear it so it’s fine.”

“I wouldn’t mind looking after Grim if you ever need me to. How does 1000 madols an hour sound?”

“You’re hungry? If you get some ingredients together, I can whip something up for you.”

“I gotta think about what I’m going to do after I graduate and start working towards that. ‘Cause life is really long.”

“Hm, what’s up? Does Leona want something——Oh, he doesn’t? You scared me for a sec...”

PE Uniform - R

Unlock Card “I’m really good at sports. At least, better than you.”

Groovy “Alright! I think I should show my cool side to the lower grades every once in a while~”

Home Setting “Getting to run around so nimbly really is the best.”

Home Transitions “Move it, move it! We’re in the middle of cleaning out the whole dorm! ‘Cause Leona never cleans this place up himself...”

“I’m considered pretty small in my dorm. But that just means I’ve got a lot of advantages in magift.”

“I’m really confident in my endurance. If I got my eyes on my prey, it’s not gonna escape me!”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “Magift has a completely different feel when you see it live. Wanna come watch our practice sometime?”

Home Taps “Ahh, I’m hungry. I’m feeling like a whole pile of sugary donuts to dip in some milk.”

“I really respect Jack for how much physical strength he’s got. But he still has a selfish playing style.”

“Building up your strength is really important to survive a brutal environment.”

“Coach Vargas got angry today? Just compliment him on his muscles and that’ll put him right back in a good mood.”

“Now’s your last chance to enjoy yourself. Let’s hope you don’t lose all hope in everything when Coach Vargas goes and pushes you to your limit though. Shishishi!”

Lab Coat - SR

Unlock Card “I don’t care that much about looking professional, but I kinda like these snazzy lab coats.”

Groovy “You’re really clumsy. Here, hand that to me.”

Home Setting “Dirt would really stand out on this kind of white.”

Home Transitions “You should probably stay away from the Botanical Garden. If you irritate Leona during his naptime... Oo, it gives me chills.”

“Ahh, you’re using up so much good lab materials! Man, what a waste...”

“I love alchemy. But I tend to make lots of mistakes if I get too greedy. Hehe.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “Aah? I wouldn’t be able to help you with that work even if you asked me.”

Home Transition (Groovy) “You can still eat weeds if you cook them right. Huh, you actually wanna try ‘em? ...You’ve got weird taste.”

Home Taps “Jack grows a lot of cacti in his room. Maybe they could be emergency rations.”

“I can only throw together a meal with what I’ve got to work with, but I guess it’s fine as long as Leona eats it.”

“A lot of the plants they grow in the Botanical Garden could sell for really high prices. ...I don’t mean anything by that; I’m just sayin’. Shishishi!”

“I don’t really get how Riddle just dumps in spoonfuls thinking it’s ‘the right amount’ he needs.”

“Don’t touch me when your hands reek of chemicals! You’re gonna get the smell on me!”

Home Tap (Groovy) “Want me to tell you what was covered on my tests last year? I’d even give you a special friend discount.”

Ceremony Robes - SR

Unlock Card “These robes are so fancy. They really do have the feel of this school.”

Groovy “Even I look the part when I’m wearing these, don’t I?”

Home Setting “So? These actually look pretty nice on me, huh?”

Home Transitions “You’re a student at this academy but you don’t even know the history behind it? Gathering intel should always be a priority.”

“Want a keepsake photo of you in your ceremony robes? Just 1000 madols a pic! It’s a great deal!”

“Hah, I’m tired... I can’t help feeling stiff in clothes I’m not used to. How are you doin’ in them?”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “This high-quality fabric with gold embroidering, plus these decorations... How much would they all sell for?”

Home Transition (Groovy) “The ceremony today is gonna be in the Mirror Chamber. Shishishi! You look nervous. It’s cute; it’s fitting for a first-year.”

Home Taps “I’m not rich, but I’ll always like this better than being a spoiled brat who doesn’t have a problem in the world.”

“The chance of Leona coming to a ceremony is... about 50/50. But he’ll still come to the entrance and graduation ones.”

“The Headmaster takes really good care of the apple trees that grow on campus. Those apples all look so good.”

“Mages were pretty rare where I grew up. I bet they’d all wanna see what I look like now.”

“You don’t need to rush; we’ve got plenty of time before the ceremony. You’re so impatient.”

Home Tap (Groovy) “Your makeup’s all smudged. Alright, guess I’ll fix it for you. ...It’s fine, I’ve done this as a job before.”

Dorm Uniform - SSR

Unlock Card “Who stepped into my territory?”

“Oh, wow, what a cute little kitten. Did you come here to be our prey? Shishishi!”

Groovy “I could tell you how to survive at this school if you want.”

Home Setting “I feel like somethin’ fun’s gonna happen today.”

Home Transitions “The deserted feel of the Ramshackle Dorm is kinda nice, but... Savanaclaw is still my favorite.”

“The dorm uniforms really are so easy to move in. They’re not too fancy either; it’s perfect for me.”

“We’re about to have a dorm meeting right now. What, you wanna come check it out? I mean, Leona’s kind of... It depends on how you ask him.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “I’m heading to the cafeteria with Leona. Wanna come too? Having more people to run errands saves me some.”

Home Transition (Groovy) “Sure, I came to this school without a madol in my pocket... but you can always find a way to handle anything as long as you’re alive!”

Home Taps “The strong and the smart are the ones who rise to power in Savanaclaw. I like how it’s an obvious system.”

“This necklace is supposed to represent different parts of nature. Red for the sun, blue for the sky, green for the land... It reminds me of my hometown.”

“It’s important to not let your guard down in the savannah. If you’re not careful... bam! You get killed.”

“Leona works me hard, but I’m always paid the appropriate amount. It’s a give-and-take.”

“You’re really just like a puppy with how playful you are.”

Home Tap (Groovy) “There’s still so much you could do even if you can’t use magic. Want me to give you a lecture on them?”

Duo Magic Ruggie: “Use your head, Jack!” Jack: “Right! Ruggie!”

Birthday Celebration Outfit - SSR

This card was only obtainable during Ruggie’s birthday event (Apr 16 - Apr 22, 2021).

Login on Birthday “Today’s my long-awaited birthday! Course that means you’ve got a present ready for me, right? ...Wait, huh? You actually do? ...Hmm, you were so straightforward, it kinda threw me off... Well, thanks! Hehe.”

Unlock Card “I’m the king today! Is the celebration all ready to go?”

“There’s really no one worth giving presents to as much as me. I’ll be happy with anything I get!”

Groovy “Thanks for celebrating! Can I expect another fancy party next year?”

Home Setting “I’m going to make it loud and clear I’m the star today.”

Home Transitions “Jack was so annoying telling me ‘The birthday boy needs to just kick back and relax!’ It was hard shaking him off.”

“Cake tastes so good and sweet~ But as long as it keeps me filled, I don’t really have anything else to say about it.”

“I can’t believe Silver was so quick to buy me that premium pudding when I asked him for it... I’ll go crying to him next time I’m short on food money.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “The birthday parties at this school are the best! I mean, there’s so much fancy food! I’m going to stuff myself like mad.”

Home Taps “The neighborhood kids always come to visit on my birthday. ...No, not to celebrate; they’re after the food.”

“Jade gave me a high-quality towel that’s so soft to touch... I might change my mind about being okay using it.”

“Lucius showed me somewhere where lots of dandelions grow. He’s a thoughtful cat!”

“This donut pin looks so yummy. But I wish they would’ve gotten some actual ones ready.”

“Hey, I know you just pulled my tail! You’re wrong if you think I’m going to allow that just ‘cause it’s my birthday.”

Home Tap (Groovy) “Some people don’t like getting older, but I’m happy about it. Don’t take your birthdays for granted.”

Duo Magic Ruggie: “Sebek, let's hear ya shout it out!” Sebek: “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, RUGGIE!!!”

Tutorial “Delays never bring you anything good. Let’s go.”

Lv Up “Shishishi! This is good.”

“You’re kinda weird, trying to take care of me.”

“I think I’ve gotten stronger!”

Max Lv Up “I feel like I could do anything now. Trying hard every once in a while actually might not be that bad. Hehe.”

Episode Lv Up “You really are such a softie. You might get scammed someday, you know? Well, come talk to me if that happens and I might help you out.”

Magic Lv Up “I always thought my magic would stay sucky my whole life, but... it’s kinda turned out.”

Limit Break “I think my progress is still far from over. Guess I gotta stay around you a little while longer.”

Groovy “See? The skilled ones always survive in this world. You’ve got nothing to lose being around me.”

Select Lesson “There aren’t classes on haggling or anything? This place really is a prestigious mage-training school.”

“You don’t have to get so stressed about it. You take things so seriously.”

“Which one are you gonna do? If it were me I’d pick one that’d be useful for survival.”

Lesson Start “Alright, studytime, studytime!”

Lesson End “Hah... I gotta stay caught up.”

Battle Start “This is my territory!”

Battle End “Looks like I got myself some mouth-watering prey.”

Other

Profile Quote “This world is a survival of the fittest. If you don’t eat when you can, you’re not gonna survive.”

January 2020 Trailer “Even a hyena can become king at this school.”

Countdown Poster “You’ve got some nerve stepping into our territory. Shishishi!”

Login Bonus Greeting “Oh, you made some money! Shishishi! Getting this just by coming to school everyday really is the best, huh? Make sure you don’t forget to come tomorrow either.”

Player Birthday Wish “You’re eating good food, getting all these presents, and everyone’s being so nice to you today. So you don’t really need me to send you birthday wishes on top of that, right? Kidding. Shishishi! I swear! Happy birthday!”

[lilbabycee]

chanel & cartier // steve rogers 💎

↳ request: Ok I know I'm greedy keep coming back to you! But can I request a hc/drabble with daddy Steve getting bratty reader diamonds or chanel or something to make it up to her 👀 @donutloverxo​

↳ relationship: steve rogers x reader

↳ word count: 1.6k

↳ author’s note: i am emotional and i liked writing this maybe a little too much ;) enjoy! x

your body is shrouded in darkness as you lay underneath the covers of you and steve’s shared bed, the remnants of your tears leaving wet stains on your soft cheeks

you know that you’re probably overreacting and but that’s okay because he promised (pinky swore!) that he’d never raise his voice at you without reason, yet here you are

the door is closed though not locked because as much as you want to keep him out, your subconscious is waiting for him to walk in and curl you into his strong body and tell you that everything’s okay and he’s sorry

but it’s been four hours and twenty-six minutes

(not that you’re counting)

and he still hasn’t come in to remind you that you’re his baby and he’ll do anything for you, which is why he’s so sorry that he broke his promise

this is not going in the way that you expected it to and you can’t help but be a little angry 

you know it’s unwarranted and you have no right, but it upsets you regardless

it sounds stupid but you just wanted some attention, to bask in the sun rays of your golden man for the day

but work keeps him busier than you’d like, which means that leaves little time to spend with his girl (that’s you, his girl) and you make your discontent known

“honey, you know i have get this done by tonight,” he groaned as you came to stand behind him and circle your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to the stretch of exposed skin and nuzzling your face into the space between his neck and shoulder

“but daddy,” you whined, pouting because he couldn’t see it (you knew you’d get a dumb punishment for that, not even anything fun like a spanking), “i miss you.”

“baby, i’m right here,” he replied distractedly, typing away at something on his laptop.

“yeah, but you’re not paying attention to me,” you huffed, twisting your lips to the side. you rested your head completely on his shoulder so you could stare at the side of his face before you thought better of it

instead, you walked around to his front and climb up onto his chair to place yourself right on his lap which made an exasperated sigh escape his chest

“y/n,” he said warningly while narrowing his eyes at you. “i don’t have time to do this today and i’m serious. once i get this report to tony, i’m all yours, hmm?”

you frowned because you still didn’t like it so you shook your head, holding onto his shoulders and shifting on his lap

“why not now, daddy?” you blinked your eyes wide at him, hoping that this look alone would make him cave but he remained stoic. if anything, he only seemed to get more annoyed

“no,” he said firmly, hands landing on your waist with the intention of removing you but your own hands settled over his

“please, st-”

“i said no, y/n! god, not everything is about you all the time,” he exclaimed, running his hands through his hair while those hurtful words slapped you in the face and made you recoil, your head jerking back in surprise as your eyes started to glass over

in truth, you know you were being a brat but he’s usually able to handle it better than that. you know that he’s stressed and high-strung because he’s had a series of meetings this week with people he doesn’t care about and the end is nowhere in sight

but that doesn’t mean that his words upset you any less

ashamed and dismayed, you quickly scrambled off of him and made a beeline to your room

cut to the present: it’s been four hours and thirty-three minutes of you moping without any intervention from your boyfriend

you assume that he’s probably tired and not in the mood to deal with you, a concept that sets your heart on fire in a way that makes you rub at your chest

so you think that you’re imagining it when a quiet knock comes at the door

“come in,” you speak almost inaudibly, your voice raspy from all your crying, but if it’s who you know it is on the other side, he’ll be able to hear it no problem

the door slides open slowly and your steve - just like you thought - stands on the other side, sheepishly hiding his hands behind his back and staring at your tear-streaked face

“sweetheart,” he coos, walking towards you with an unmarked bag in his hand that you don’t think too much of before he takes a seat on the edge of the bed, right next to your cocooned body

“m’sorry, baby,” he strokes your cheek slowly, thumb wiping away the stray tears on your face before he presses a kiss to each cheek, your forehead, then the tip of your nose

you sniffle dramatically, avoiding eye contact with him although you know that he’s putting out that fire in your heart with the comforting coolness of his touch

“babydoll,,” he coaxes. “look at me, baby.”

you roll your eyes before locking them onto steve’s and you know that you’ve already forgiven him because he’s so pretty and he looks so apologetic

“there’s my girl,” he grins, dropping a chaste kiss on your lips. “my pretty girl. i love you, doll - i’m sorry i let my work get in the way. i didn’t mean to make you cry - i hate it when you cry. but i’m all done now, though, so we can still hang out if you want?”

the offer is tempting but you shake your head no, still choosing to pout and lay there pitifully, trying to milk his sympathy to its limits

steve laughs, fully aware of what you’re doing, and shakes his head, a fond smile gracing his full lips

a knowing spark in his eyes makes you narrow yours at him skeptically because you’re terrified that he’ll try to lie on top of you or something and suffocate you with his supersoldier body

“what if i said i bought you somethin’?” 

you cannot for the life of you resist the urge to shoot up from the bed, so you give in

you sit yourself up so that your back rests against the headboard, suddenly no longer sad, and eye him expectantly, waiting for him to get the apology present that you’re owed 

“ah, ah,” he tuts, smile stretching wider across his face. “if you want it, you gotta ask me nicely, sweetheart.”

there it is: the catch

but you don’t hesitate in putting your pride aside (not before sucking your teeth loudly) to tell your boyfriend to get his ass in gear and bring you your gift

“please, stevie, can i have my present now please?”

he doesn’t move, just looks at you flatly before arching an eyebrow

so you correct yourself, leaning into his body to touch his forearm and bring your face closer to his

“can i please have my present now, daddy?”

it’s stupid how much joy you get in seeing the way his face lights up but he reaches for the bag and hands it over to you, hands clasped together as he waits for you to open it

you pull out a thick matte black box that makes you squeal when you see the white letters printed on the front

“really?” you virtually bounce up and down. “all for me, stevie?”

he nods, gesturing for you to open it but you don’t do so until you grab his face between your hands, pressing a lingering kiss on his cheek

a light dusting of pink - the same color as the chanel bag you pull out of the box - covers his nose and the apples of his cheeks and he bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling too hard

the squeal of pure elation that comes out of your mouth is borderline deafening but steve would listen to that sound everyday for the rest of his life if it meant that he could keep you this happy forever

it’s not even as if this is the first chanel box he’s gone and purchased after you fight - in fact, he thinks it might be the ninth, but every time, watching your reaction when you open them is as exciting as the first

“i love it, daddy, thank you!” you exclaim, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight embrace. he chuckles, crushing you flush to his body before lifting you and settling you on his lap like you were a few hours ago

“you’re very welcome, sweetheart,” he cups your jaw and kisses your cheekbone. “but that’s not everything-”

he doesn’t even finish the sentence before you’ve pulled the smaller box out of the bag

it’s the color of fresh cherries and the word ‘cartier’ written on the front makes you scream right into steve’s ear

he doesn’t even flinch but he does have the passing thought that his heart might explode because you take up all the space in there and he doesn’t know much, but he does know that he wants to love you for as long as you’ll let him

“daddy- stevie, baby,” you gasp, hand flying to your bare neck. you’re staring at a diamond necklace with a little four leaf clover pendant on the end

you’re speechless and you can’t say that often

“lemme put it on you, pretty girl,” he offers, taking the delicate chain out of the case and swiftly fastening it around your neck

once it’s secure, your hand immediately comes to touch it, enthralled by this caring man in front of you

“you’re so gorgeous, honey - my good luck charm,” he gushes, thumb caressing the column of your neck

“does that mean i should make you mad at me more often?” you tease, not letting him answer because you grasp his face and press quick little kisses all over it that send him into a fit of giggles

“maybe you should,” he shoots back, breathless and on his back now, your body resting comfortably on top of his

“love you, daddy,” you quip, capturing his lips with your own for a brief kiss

“love you too, sweet baby.”

tagged: @literaturefeen​ @donutloverxo​

[shadoedseptmbr]

fic post

First day of January, first peek at a thing I’m working on for Genuary.  A pre-ME1 story for Aedan Shepard.  Tentatively titled Red Days.

o-o-o-o-o-o

“I’m just sayin’ you musta fucked up somethin’ fierce to be back on protection duty.” 

 The gunhand guarding him didn’t say a word, just held the door open to the next shop, out of the chill of the winter, sweeping the area. It jangled with fake asari doodads, hundreds of cheap chain necklaces on racks that spun drunkenly if anyone walked past and fat, plastic kittens with waving paws.  There were a few plastic snowflakes clinging to the barred glass window, remnants of the recent holiday.

The cashier’s eyes widened at their entrance but she just coughed out, “Mr. Clare?!”

A balding man of about fifty ducked his head out, “On my way.”

“Ain’t got all day, Mister Clare.”  Jay sneered the honorific into a slur.  

Clare hustled out, a datapad and a couple of credit chits stacked in his hands, his own rheumy eyes going wide behind his electronically assisted glasses as he took in the two figures.  His eyes fixed on the gun hand, lean and slouching slightly against the counter, watching the door. “I’m not late.  Everything’s here. Why…”

Ace grunted, her eyes fixed out on the street.  “You’re fine.  I’m just keeping an eye on Jay-bird, here.”  

“Oh...okay.” He slipped the stack into a plastic sleeve and handed the package over for Jay to slide it into his satchel.  

“Always a pleasure,” Jay’s sneer had tucked itself back away with receipt, suddenly friendly. “Ace got herself in black with Jader.  So she’s back on…”

He stopped with Ace’s gaze locked on him.  “That really ain’t their business.” 

“Guess not.  See you tomorrow, Ari.” Jay flashed a crooked grin at the cashier, and it was almost charming in his thin, unshaven face.  The girl blushed and Clare and Ace shared a skeptical glance.

They skipped the empty storefront on the corner.  And the repair shop someone had daubed with a splotch of red paint in the corner of the doorframe, a sign the owner had done the Reds a favor with cops or equipment, recently.

There were four more stops on their route, the last of which was shuttered and dark.  Jay coughed and Ace rolled her eyes, but a few taps on the hidden doorlock and the metal shutters were easily drawn aside.  “Someone bashes you in the skull, you squeal.” 

She stepped inside, letting her eyes adjust from the watery light of the late sun slanting in between the buildings to the gloom of the interior.

This had been a pizza and noodle shop last time Ace had run this route.  Now it smelled of mildew and was crammed with cheaply made clothing and shoes, handbags.  A secondhand rack in the corner with slightly nicer things.  But it was empty and several of the racks were overturned.  She leaned against the shelves crammed with tshirts along the and carefully nudged open the thin door with her foot.  An office, the fuzzy sound of old lighting still buzzing overhead, but the old plastic rolling chair tumped on it’s side and a data pad cracked and blank. There was a smear of blood, old enough to be brown, on the floor by the datapad.

“C’mon in.  No one’s here.”  She raised her voice over her shoulder to Jay who scuttled in, nervously, leaving the shutter gaping behind him.  

He looked around and realized, “Hey, someone robbed this place.” 

“No shit.”  

“We gotta call it in.”  

“Go for it.”  She looked for a secondary entrance, but the loading door in the back of the office was padlocked.  I’m gonna keep an eye on the street.

The sun was sliding quickly down behind the buildings, now.  The light had gone gray.  There were a few people up the sidewalk, huddled into their coats as the temperature dropped and the wind picked up.  Ace huddled into the shallow alcove of the entrance, tugging her hood up, eyes on a swivel.  The old woman popped up as she scanned left for the second time and she almost swallowed her tongue trying not to jump out of her skin.

“Fucking Christ, Des,” she hissed.

“Happened last night.  Cops didn’t even take statements.”

Mama Deseree was about a head taller than Ace, with swirls and puffs of silver hair hidden under a green scarf and a rounded pigeon breasted figure under her padded maroon coat. Rumor was she’d been a prostitute a hundred years ago but as long as Ace had been in the Reds, Des had run a meat and three across the street and three shops down on the far corner.  It was neutral territory and she didn’t serve cops or anyone else with a gun showing.  She always smelled of garlic and warmth. 

No one took protection money from Mama Des.  

Ace had never asked why.

“Wasn’t us.”

Des scoffed. “No, too quiet for Reds.”  

“Anybody new pokin’ around?”  Jader would want to know. 

 “Not that I’ve seen.  You eat, baby?”

“No, ma’am, I’m workin’.”  She watched Clare lock up his shop.  Ari was already bundled down the street.  

“Yeah, I see that. Why you down here, again?”

“Fucked up a carjack.”  

“Uh hunh.”  Des didn’t believe her at all.  

Didn’t make it a lie.  

“Look here.”  

“Des…” She turned to the old woman and was startled to have a spoonful of something savory popped into her open mouth.  “What the fu…” she mumbled around rice and something green and bitter and blackeyed peas and her eyes streamed from whatever hell grown chili Des had cursed the concoction with.  

“Don’t swear, you’ll break the luck.”  She offered another bite and Ace swallowed and tried to clear her eyes enough to at least keep watch over Des’ shoulder.  

“I know Jader’s taken to calling his creepers after birds, Des, but I ain’t one of them.” 

“Fine.”  She shoved a round container into Ace’s hoodie pocket.  It was the warmest thing she’d touched in a week. “You eat all of that by midnight.”

“Jesus, why?”  As if she’d ever turned down food before. She might need a jug of milk, too. She could feel the chili eating through her pipes. A square of something wrapped in plasfilm tucked in, too.

“‘Cause bad things are about to happen, child.  You need all the luck you can get.”

[boogiewrites]

Mae Flowers Ch. 7

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Mae LeBlanc (OFC)

Summary: A modern, magical Alfie Solomons AU.  Mae works towards growing her powers and Alfie is there to explain every step. They begin learning more about each other and find a connection that neither truly expected.

Warnings/Tags: Language.Magic/Supernatural. Soul mates.Some domestic fluff, getting to know you stage. Talk of the unknown.

Click on my screenname then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.)

The sun rose high enough to peek through her curtain. It wakes her by gently kissing her face. Mae greeted the new day with enthusiasm.

Alfie had given her the task of sprouting, growing, and blooming a plant with her powers. She had been a bit cocky, she supposes, after the meditation went so well. But using her own undisciplined powers to do work was entirely different from receiving a gift of knowledge from her light. With Alfie's strong influence, the visions were much stronger than she could’ve formed herself. He’d asked endless questions, just like she would do. But unlike her, he'd had years to find the answers.

She stood in the kitchen, glaring out the bay doors at the sprouted plant on the patio table. She sipped her coffee as the maker gurgled in the background. The house was quiet, save Percy's feet crunching in the litter box.

Alfie had set her a task, and she was days into trying to achieve it. He had vaguely explained that he had some spell work to do that he needed privacy to accomplish. After giggling at the way he pronounced privacy she nodded and he disappeared. He’d still been up every morning,  looking a little rough around the edges. She didn’t want to pry but she also thought she might want to know what was going on in her house.

It was almost 10, she’d taken her time and lazed around long enough. She'd showered and eaten while hoping he would appear. But he hadn’t. So her curiosity got the better of her.

She made her way to the wall that held the archway to her sunroom and the door to the guest bedroom. She stood with a furrowed brow and pressed lips. She felt like she might be behaving rudely. She quietly knocks, her hand hovering over the door for some minutes before she talked herself into it. A quiet knock, then a more confident one after no noise from the other side. She pressed her ear to the door and heard nothing, not knowing if she felt relieved or more worried.

“Alfie?” She asked with a crack to her morning voice, not yet warmed up. No response. She tried to focus, head to the door, and see if she could feel anything. She didn’t really know what she was doing though, they hadn’t gotten to that lesson yet.

With no answer she reluctantly reaches for the knob, hand once again waiting to take action. As she clicks it, it sounded like one of the loudest noises she’d ever heard. She makes a space big enough to peep her round face through.

“Alfie?” she spoke softly, voice barely above a whisper into the stillness of the room. She made her way in, turning to see him star fished on the bed. His hair was a mess, hands still covered in what looked like soot, and lips pooched out while he was clearly in a deep sleep.

There were jars sealed with wax all over the dresser, salt around them, and little labels attached with twine to each. She was most curious and began to move towards them before a sudden grunt and sniff catch her attention from the bed. Unknowingly she’d passed the threshold of protection Alfie had cast and it had woken him up from his much-needed rest.

“Mmph Mae? What ya- bloody hell what time is it?” His brow arches high, dad noises followed as he rolled over to reach for his phone. “Oh fuck I’ve slept in.” He mutters and begins the process of moving his tired and half awake limbs to sit up on the bed.

“It’s not a problem, I just didn’t know what you were doing in here. I knocked… by the way. I was worried about you.” She explains hesitantly.

“No need. Just restin' me eyes.”

“Mm hmm.” She hums.

“Don’t appreciate that sarcasm Mae.” He rubs his eyes but she sees the grin behind his soft dark gingery beard.

“I knocked… like I said, twice, and said your name and you just laid there so…”

“You callin' me a liar? Bold of ya.” He kept a deep gruff tone as he yawns and stretches, but she could tell he was joking somehow. She felt comfortable with him in the snippy exchanges.

“Well I ain’t callin' you a truther.” She shrugs and gives a huff of a laugh.

“You’re a funny little flower, Mae.” Her odd response makes him laugh that turns into a cough. They share a pleasant lingering smile before something catches Mae’s attention. A movement under the covers of the bed.

He feels it against his hand and shoots his eyes in the direction Maes wide ones are staring.

“What the-?” He grumbles and jerks back the covers, and much to Maes horror a huge snake is making its way from the bed to the floor and towards the open window. “Fuck me, that wasn’t a dream? Ya sneaky cunt! Get out, ya slag!” He shoves the snake off the bed with a heavy thump while Mae presses herself against the door with too many questions rapid firing in her head. “I was tired from the work and you come all the way out here-?” His hands wave and he stops as if he were interrupted as he pushed the snake out the window. “Work innit?” He snaps and opens the window wider. “Ya ain’t fuckin special love. That’s always been ya problem. If ya never learn you’re gonna be like that forever!” He sticks his face thru the window opening before slamming it shut.

He turned around all huffed and annoyed and now awake.

“Uh… friend of yours?” Mae asks with a broken nervous laugh.

“I’m sorry Mae. She snuck in, I didn’t invite her. She’s never been much for respecting people’s space.”

“Wuh… so it was a friend?” She asks with eyes still looking at the spot where the snake had slithered out even though Alfie is moving around the room now to put the sheets back on the bed in his pajamas, a very rumpled white t-shirt with a v cut and his always present smattering of amulet holding necklaces.

“Well… yes and no. Bit complicated.”

“Like Facebook ‘It’s Complicated or…?”

“Like what?” He stops to plop on the bed and gives her an intimidating stare that suggests she might be behaving like an idiot.

“Y’know the relationship options on Facebook?” She says with an obvious nod. “You do know what Facebook is right?”

“Of course I fuckin know what Facebook is ya cheeky bugger.” he says harshly but huffs a single hard laugh.

She grins at his response and continued on with a lazy lilt to the early afternoon conversation. Her hands moving casually as she talked like the dust that was visible in the sun through the guest, well, Alfie’s room window now. “People can put it’s complicated as a relationship status. Usually, a sign someone’s made some bad decisions at some point.”

“Yeah? Like, fuck a snake?”

She snorts and covers her mouth as she laughs with bright eyes. “I wasn’t gonna say it but-“

“Didn’t have to read ya mind to know that’s what you were thinkin’, mate.” He shakes his head and fussed with his hair for a moment.

“I’ve been told I have a very bad poker face.”

“Terrible.” He says obviously but she felt the warm tone in his voice as he stood and gave her a smile that wasn’t accusing. “But it’s also somethin' you can learn.”

“Another thing to add to the long list of things you’re going to teach me.”

“That it is.” He says with an affirmative nod. “It comes with controlling your emotions. You feel things so strongly because you are unpracticed but we’re workin' in it yeah?” He nods and pats her shoulder.

“We are. I don’t feel as bad as I usually do after a rough day like yesterday.”

“Very good. Since I slept in like a fuckin lazy sod have ya got around to ya studies today?” They both move and carry a conversation into the kitchen as he makes himself some tea.

“Not yet, was being slow because I didn’t want to start until you got up. But then-“ she motions towards the cracked guest room door.

“Ridiculous, innit?” the previous annoyance at his unexpected visitor comes back to show on his face. “Not even my house and she doesn’t know you, yeah? Just invites herself in. Like everything’s bloody normal.”

Mae blinks with curious but very polite eyes as he rests against the counter for a moment, huffing and displacing a fluff of hair hanging onto his forehead. “I’m glad you also don’t think it’s normal. I know things are gonna start changing now, but python booty calls were not something I was prepared to handle.” She pauses her thousand-yard stare shifts to him. Blinking her full lashes over brown, now golden in the noon sun, eyes. “Not to be rude or anything. Just… being honest.” She shrugs, making herself smaller. “Thought it would be best to be… y’know with… all this witchy stuff.”

“First off, not a booty call.” He dismisses with a swipe of an expressive finger. “Secondly, honesty is the best policy. Always…. Unless ya Gotta lie.” He gives a more sly and cheeky smile her way as he takes a sip of tea.

“Are you lying about the snake booty call?”

“Nah, mate.” He gruffs out casually, “Not that I didn’t before she found herself in her current form. A stone-cold bitch of a witch that one. Piss off the wrong witch and ya go 'bout bein a twat and then next thing ya know you’re cursed to take her so-called, and very dramatically said at the time I might add- “true form”. He pauses, his tight but expressive face once again hides behind the tea mug and the fluff of mustache over the rim. “Old flame 'n that. Long, long time ago now.”

“How long is long for you? Since you’re…?”

“I prefer the term immortal to old if that’s what’s ya askin'.”

“I wasn’t but thanks for clarifying.”

“Years before you were even swimmin' in ya gran dads bollocks.”

“That’s the grossest way I’ve ever heard that put. Creative but, still gross.”

“Didn’t mean to be crude at the table, love.” He gives a nod but the polite face has mischievous and playful eyes behind it.

She huffs out a quiet laugh. “Wasn't a complaint.”

“Good to see ya aren’t squeamish. A sense of humor will help ya out in this work. Also nice to know my other half isn’t a stick in the mud.”

“Oh, I’ve been called that before.” She adds quickly and he laughs.

“Eh, don’t seem too bad to me Mae.”

“Well we just started so just give me a bit and I’ll let ya down.”

“Bad attitude like that means one thing.”

“What?”

“You didn’t eat a good breakfast did you?”

“I had-“

“Yeah, those bloody breakfast bar- bullshit things.” He cuts her off. “Ya have to eat real food now, pet. So we’ll be late getting at it today but nothings gonna get accomplished by no human without bein' fueled properly.”

“I don’t usually cook a big breakfast.”

“And ya ain’t gonna start now. I got it.” It’s almost as if her thought of standing to help was nipped from her mind, swearing she might’ve felt a light push to stay in her seat by some invisible force.

"You're not fattening me up to eat me are you? You and that snake?” She asks with a subtle playful smile but accusing eyes.

He lets out a loud sudden amused sound at her suggestion. “Maybe I am. Gonna butter ya up and stuff you in the oven.” He gives her a wink and chuckles to himself at the delightful energy she was putting out today before he turned back to the counter.

She blinks rapidly and finds herself hiding a flush in her cheeks at the seemingly innocent gesture. She retreats back to her normal sitting posture clenching her teeth to fight the smile that would otherwise appear on her face. Being forced to reckon with a handsome man winking at her that she wasn’t repulsed by was something new and she didn’t want to look like a giggling school girl. She was far from being a schoolgirl by being in her thirties but he made that same old energy bubble up inside her.

She clears her throat and tries to gain control of her emotions before they sweep her away. Since he’d been around all sorts of things were becoming quickly overwhelming. Since Alfie's appearance in her life, she’d started having mood swings, vivid intense dreams, and some rather animalistic passing thoughts. Most of them with the focus being on her new roommate. And she wasn’t talking about the unusual amount of reptiles she’d seen the past few days. She could swear the birds chirped louder now. It was as if she was going through some psychic puberty. Every sense and emotion was turned up so drastically it was as if she could feel a static tingling at all times. It didn’t hurt, but it was something she was trying to get a grip on. She was trying to be optimistic but her first round of puberty was something she felt she’d failed miserably at.

Alfie could feel her energy shifting and remained quiet. He had been both confused and impressed with her attempts to control all this new energy herself. He didn’t know why she didn’t ask about it but knew she was a scrappy little thing, forgo the occasional breakdown. Which he thought she had earned.

“MROW?” Percy jolts up from his warm bed in the sunroom, his morning sun spot starting to shift. He trots into the kitchen, the shifting of energy from his master drawing him from the bed.

He was a welcome distraction for her and both the men in the room, both he and Alfie felt ease as soon as Percy was in Mae’s lap and focusing her attention.

“Good little lad you’ve got there,” Alfie says, looking over his shoulder at the cat purring and grooming its owner.

“When he wants to be he’s very sweet.” Mae let’s put a sigh and cuddles him closer, feeling the tension in her body dissipate as she rubbing her face into the fur of the large white fluffy boy with his pink toe beans and nose.

“You know… I have a Percy.”

“You have a cat?”

“No, love. Percy is your familiar. I have one right now as well.”

She blinks in thought for a moment. “My familiar?” She asks, directed at the cat who was staring up at her with bright green eyes.

“A companion. A kindred spirit. He’s a little soul that is meant to help yours.”

She stares into the cat's eyes. “He just showed up one day. Like he already lived here.”

“Because he was called to you. Your power must’ve been blossoming at the time.”

“So you’re my familiar huh? If you’re supposed to help, why do you sleep on my clean laundry?”

Alfie let out an amused chuckle.

“Mrrm.” Percy responds and flicks his tail.

“I’d like to know how sleeping all day is supposed to help me out.” Mae gives him a big smile and scratches his chest. “Sassy little butthead.”

He purrs in response and rubs against her chest.

“Is your familiar a cat?” Mae asks while fussing over the affectionate cat in her arms.

“Oh no. Charles is nothing of the sort. A cat wouldn’t suit me would it?”

“A big fluffy ginger cat might.”

“Offensive language.” Alfie protests and Mae chuckles to herself.

“What is he then?”

“I’ll have you meet him sometime soon. Best to let him introduce himself instead of me.”

“Is he an animal?”

“He is. Familiars tend to be.”

“Can they be other things?”

“Sometimes a human. But rarely. Some have been Fae. Some like to stay in specter form if their counterpart is gifted in communicating with that plane.”

“So like spirit guides?”

“Good comparison, yes.” Alfie nods as he continues moving about the kitchen. “There are many forms any single soul can take, you see..” he began an impromptu lecture which he had done on occasion for the sake of educating her.  He kept talking, as she found he had the tendency to do if the mood struck him.  For now, he stuck to lessons about her, the baby steps any born and raised witch would know without even realizing. He didn’t want the sweet thing to seem like she lacked common sense when it came time to mingle with others like them. So he tried to begin with what to do to be able to perform at your best.  He spoke of fuel and food, energy creation and destruction, and how it works with people like them. Or well, her, he was different from her biologically. But that was a lesson for another day.

—————————-

Alfie checks on Mae once again, a little lump sat in the grass in her back garden with those golden eyes focused on her task. He hadn’t really known how fast or slow the process would go, and the fact that she had made any progress at all made him happy for her. She sat with her hands pushed against her face, elbows on her knees as she sat with crossed legs in the grass in front of the plant. Her button nose was wrinkled, thick dark brows made her look more severe than usual. A stray loose curl would flop in the wind on occasion, but besides that, she was being very still. The fruit-bearing trees planted along the high fence line now had different symbols in new shiny paint. Mae had learned about protection and she was taking it very seriously. The glitter paint, her choice, sparkled in the light along with the various windchimes and suncatchers she had hanging all over the garden. You could always hear at least a small ting of metal against metal outside, it was something Alfie grew accustomed to quickly and found it rather pleasant now. All her new decor made space seem even more full of life with the rapid onset of spring. Not to mention Mae’s growing powers were causing the flora all around her home to begin to flourish early.

Alfie was writing labels, carefully packaging the spells he’d made to send out. He was enjoying a quiet afternoon. The weather was pleasant and the clink of chimes with the lazy breaths of wind outside was a calming melody. He was musing about how nice it was to finally feel some true calm for the first time in his afterlife. This is why the sudden shrill scream of Mae made him almost drop a spell jar in surprise. He would’ve never let his guard down enough to get caught off guard like that before he’d met Mae. He’d never stopped to consider if being with his other soul half might make him soft. But it was swept away from his cares when he saw the bundle of sunshine that was Mae. He could see the joyous yellow rays emanating from her small feminine form. Her hair bouncier and her cheeks flushed as she screamed his name in the middle of jumping up and down with excitement.

“Alfie! LOOK!” She squeals and stomps her feet, her hands with the chipped yellow polish point towards a now fully bloomed plant on the ground.

“WHAY!” He throws his arms up in celebration! “Mozel tov boobah!” He claps and approaches her. Much to his surprise she fillings herself towards him in an impactful hug. As soon as her delightfully soft cheek pressed bare against the fuzzy section of his chest his shirt allowed, their breaths caught in tandem. His hand on the back of her fluffy hair, one arm keeping her steady in her back. There was an ebb and flow that much resembled (to those gifted enough to see such a thing) an aftershock that shot through them on contact and was sent back into the world around them.

It felt almost as if she was in the middle of a giant speaker in the back of some fuck boy's car. Or those old 5ive gum commercials. The second feels drawn out and heavy as that pulse connects them and is loaded into their systems. something neither had felt in such a pure form before they felt a split moment of euphoria. A total lack of worry and anxiety, total zen.

They both exhale with synced breath and everything shifts back to its former self. Mae looks up at Alfie with an expression of what the hell was that and he blinks down at her and tells her that for the first time in a long time. He didn’t exactly have the answer.

Mae licks her lips and looks at his chest, her nose set above puckered lips showing the wheels turning behind her eyes. That were a very vivid -damn near glowing actually- golden. They were large and often wet and they reminded Alfie of a frog on occasion. Especially when she wore her little round glasses. He considers this a compliment as he is quite fond of frogs.

“That was..” she takes a deep breath and clears her throat, “...you know those little sand...zen gardens with the stick and you-?” She draws a swirl on his back where her hands stay.

“Yeah. With the wee Buddha’s?”

“I feel like what one of those is supposed to make you feel.”

“Felt much like I’d gone up and slapped the Buddha and he hit me arse back on my end.”

“Didn’t it feel… good? Though?” Her face shows her uncertainty as it always does.

“Ya bloody right it did.” He lets out a warm laugh that reassures her.

“What is..?” She hugs him again. The same grip as before but it doesn’t happen. She squeezes. Waits. Alfie looks around after her third attempt and considers intervening.

“‘Ere.” Alfie says. Moving her hand to mirror his, slightly outstretched towards each other. “Can you see that?” He asks quietly as if he might scare something away.

“I don’t… I feel something though. I think…”

“Trust your intuition, Mae. It’s where the answers are.”

She follows his advice, taking a deep breath and a slow exhale and clearing her mind and really looking at the space between their hands.

“Do you feel anything?” He asks after a moment, seeing her face shift.

“Yes.” A much more confident response.

“Good girl. What is it?”

“It’s..almost like electricity.”

He keeps quiet as he sees it differently. It fascinates him.

“Like the Ghostbusters ray guns.” She answers seriously then laughs. “Except it isn’t really a color exactly it’s, it’s sort of yellow.”

“I see yellow as well.” He nods.

“Now concentrate. Look at the… rays and what they feel like.”

“Oh! They’re happy.” She answers quickly and cheerfully.

“What happens when I-?” He asks and touches their fingertips together.

She smiles and laughs, “It's like you’re touching the surface of a lake.

“It’s a reflection.” He nods.  “Now watch.” He begins to move it away and it’s as if a string is being pulled, the flow is taffy and it becomes thinner the farther away he gets. Her power is less loud, less clear the farther he is.

“It’s reacting to you.”

“It’s us. Welcome to stage one of your awakening. You can now see energy.”

“Did this happen because of the flower?” her head tilts like a curious baby animal.

“Flower?”

“Oh! Shit! I forgot! The flower! Alfie look!” She grabs his wrist and proudly shows off the fully blossomed Lily.

“Brilliant work, love.” He touches it and it’s strong and very alive. “Look at this little lass. Gorgeous.” He pets the plants leaves affectionately. “Lovely innit.” He leans towards Mae. “Takes after her muva.” He teases.

“I don’t see anything around it.” She says waving her hand near it.

“You won’t see everything at once. Be grateful for that because you’d go as mad as the first mantis shrimp.” He snorts at his own joke.

“The what?” She asks and shakes her head. “Alfie stop talking about mudbugs and explain.”

“You’re growing Mae darling! It’s all very good. Don’t worry. If there was cause for worry I would tell you, yeah? You’re learning to wield your powers and activating new ones. Natural innit?”

“So this is just my power growing?” She asks referring to the wobbly bit of energy as she moved closer to his body.

“I believe it is our souls. They want to be close. The closer the more vivid it is, see?” He touches his nose to hers and shows the tiny jolt of electricity that appears where their skin touches.

“It’s like static electricity. But it doesn’t hurt.”

“Nah, love they’re happy. They want to be close, little monkeys. They haven’t seen each other for so long. They get a bit excited.” He chuckles and rubs her arms reassuringly. He left a warm and good feeling behind in his wake. “Your powers are growing. You’re doing so well. In fact, I believe you are much deserved a few celebratory festivities, love.” He speaks quietly as he remains close to her.

“Like donuts?” She asks with a perky inflection.

“Could be but I was thinkin' more you should get yourself done up. Celebrate yourself. We can go out and I suppose eat since that seems to be where your mind is.”

“Done up? Like go out and eat together? A date?” There’s a mild flash of horror in her eyes.

“If that term scares you so then no. I am simply your friend-“

“Soul mate” she corrects.

“...soul mate who believes you should do things to celebrate this growth. Hard work earns hard play and you Mae darling have been working your bum off. You deserve it. Stop selling yourself short.”

“You being able to read me is good and all but it also really gets on my nerves. You get too real too fast on me like I’m just supposed to be okay with you plainly saying my obvious shortcomings.”

“It’s called growth. It’s what we’re here for.”

“When am I going to make you start growing?”

“Already have.” He states fast.

“I have?”

“Course! I don’t know if you could tell but I have not historically been known to be a very… coddling man. I have been alone and seen and done violence with my darkness… but being around you, your soul, it makes me feel like I’m young again at times. Your...spunky little personality- which is a great relief I must add- paired with the positive attitude and earnest approach has made me address how I approach things.”

“You like my personality?” her eyes look a bit sad but more intrigued.

“That’s what you took from that?” He chuckles.

“It’s a really nice compliment.” She quickly feels tears burn in her eyes.

“Oh bless your cotton socks.” Alfie laughs and pulls her in for a hug. “You little bugger.” He rubs her back as she gives him a tentative hug back. “You are kind and honest and curious. The world needs more like you. Your emotions are a gift. I do not see them as the burden you do. Most humans go through life feeling so very little. Did you know? It is a blessing to feel so strongly.”

“You’re so nice.” She sniffles and he once again laughs and kisses her head. “C’mon love. Let’s have a cuppa and we’ll get dresed up eh?”

“And then we go get food.” She sniffles.

“Yes, darling Mae then when go get food.” He lets out a deep chesty laugh as he escorts her back towards the house.

@jaegeeeeer​  @brianaisasongbird​ @hardygal69​ @emerald-bijou​ @captstefanbrandt​ @coolgh0st​ @tinastarkandco​ @xstylishmileage​   @s-h-e-w-r-i-t-e-s​ @peakys-mystic​

[hellimagines]

Paradise -- Billy Hargrove

*My masterlist link can be found in my blog description*

Request: “Can i please have a Billy imagine? since the new trailer is out and everything, can you do one where Billy’s the new lifeguard of course and the reader just got hired as a lifeguard too and Billy sees her and flirts with her and stuff to tease her because one day she sees him shirtless and the pool and is smitten?” @kaitlinlexiexx

Summary: After working as a lifeguard for nearly three years, you’re happy to see a new body joining your staff.

Warnings: None

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,400+

A/N: Our Billy’s back and we’re gonna be in trouble, hey-ah-hey-ah, our Billy’s back~

You’d been working as a lifeguard at the Hawkin’s Community Pool since the summer before your junior year of high school. Each summer brought you 4$ an hour, and you’d rake up a couple hundred by the time September approached, and the pool would close until next summer. It was a good job, and it made you happy to see all the little kids enjoying their freedom for a few short months. Not to mention the tight red one-piece you had to wear was incredibly flattering and brought you countless stares and compliments. Things were good and easy until the summer of ‘85 rolled around, and everything shifted. Having just graduated from high school, you were expecting your summer to be filled with stress, two jobs, and the looming horror of college sinking you into the ground. But then you had walked out of the staff changing rooms on the pool’s opening day, staring down at your body as you adjusted your swimsuit, effectively not paying attention to your surroundings.

Smack!

Your body collided with a wall of muscle, threatening to send you flying to your ass had the owner not caught you. “Ay, watch where you’re going, princess,” the guy huffed, using his hands on your waist to steady you, before letting go.

“Watch out yourself, jackass. Walking works both ways!” You looked up, ready to inform this guy that the pool didn’t open for another thirty minutes, but you stopped yourself. He was wearing the traditional red board-shorts of the male uniform, with a whistle slung around his neck and sunglasses perched on his nose. Beneath his whistle lay a catholic-like necklace, its gold chain glintering in the sunlight. However, the thing that had really caught your attention, was his unnaturally chiseled body.

“See somethin’ you like, princess?” Tearing your eyes away from the filth before you, you finally looked to see who was actually talking to you.

Billy Hargrove was looking down at you, his typical fuck-me smirk in place as his tongue darted out to lick over his chapped lips. “Yeah,” you said simply, mouth slightly gaped as you stared at the boy before you. Once the words left your mouth, however, you realized what you had said. “Wait! Shit, fuck, no! No, I don’t like what I see at all!” Your words were jumbled, face flush red in embarrassment and your eyes wide in horror.  

Billy laughed - a genuine, heart-warming laugh - and tossed his head back. Curls fell around his face while his blue eyes crinkled. “Well shit, babe, ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed of. There’s lots to look at, I know,” he joked, flashing you a wink. “We better get out there before the boss starts blowin’.” And then he was gone, flicking a dismissive hand over his shoulder and leaving you in the dust.

--

As weeks passed and the middle of June began to approach, you found your work-days being consumed with Billy. Everywhere you went he wasn’t too far behind, offering you smiles, winks, and boatloads of flirtatious comments. It was infectious and you were beginning to wake up each morning with a fluttering stomach and a hopeful heart. Despite the fact that the two of you never spent time together outside of work, the blond-haired idiot was really starting to grow on you.

“Another day of paradise,” you sighed to yourself while exiting the staff changing rooms. The pool would be opening in five minutes and you were the one responsible for opening the doors, having to fend for yourself as dozens of people swarmed inside.

As you began to walk towards the gate, an arm wrapped itself around your shoulders causing you to startle. “It’s always paradise when I’m with you, princess,” Billy snickered, tugging on the back of your ponytail before releasing you. “Let’s welcome the swarm.”

You watched in silent awe as Billy snatched the keys from your hand and unlocked the gate, swinging it open with wide arms. With a quick glance over his shoulder, Billy shot you a wink before he was swallowed up by the masses of people waiting to escape the morning heat. For the rest of the day, you focused on your job and made sure everything was going smoothly: kept kids from jumping in the deep end, assisted with chair and lawn placements, made sure nobody was running near the slippery parts of the pool. All in all, things were going great.

As the sun began to set and closing time approached, you stood at the bottom of the lifeguard tower with your hip cocked to the side and your arms crossed, surveying the pool. It was currently Child Swim, which meant that all of the teenagers and childless-parents were out of the pool and beginning to pack their things, while the younger kids and their parents remained for one final swim. As your eyes scanned all the kids, making sure nobody was drowning or being injured, a hand wrapped itself around your arm.

Being used to this behavior, you didn’t even flinch. “What do you need, handsome? I’m on gremlin shift.”

“How’s your number and a date sound?” Startled by the unknown voice, you jerked back, pulling your arm with you. Beside you stood a guy who was clearly not Billy- he was dressed in dark blue board shorts, and his hair was a deep brunette. A cigarette hung from his smirking lips, causing your own to scowl.

“You can’t smoke inside the pool. I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” you seethed, taking another step back.

“That’s not what you were saying a second ago,” he chuckled, taking a drag from the cancer-stick before blowing the smoke in your face. “Why don’t you leave with me?”

“I mistook you for someone else. Now, I’m not going to ask again- leave.” Your arm shot out to point at the gate, signaling where he needed to go. “And no, I won’t be leaving with you.”

The man paused for a moment, eyeing you warily as the cigarette burned in his mouth. It was obvious he didn’t want to give up, not this soon, but another jerk of your hand sent him walking away with a scoff. You watched him leave, narrowing your eyes against the setting sun until you were sure he was gone. Turning back to the pool you gave your whistle a sharp blow, at the same time the other lifeguards did. Everybody clambered out of the pool while others began to dress, knowing that the whistle meant the pool was now closing.

“Hey there, Princess.” You turned to see Billy sauntering towards you, a playful smile on his face. “Saw you deal with that douchebag- I was ‘bout to head over here and give him a piece of my mind. But then you sent him running off, tail between his legs, with just a glare,” he laughed, his curls bouncing atop his head.

“He was smoking, that shit’s not allowed,” you shrugged, only to smile when Billy wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Besides, he wasn’t my type.” You shot Billy a smirk, wrapping a hand around the one draped over your shoulder as the two of you walked.

“Oh yeah?” he laughed. “And what might your type be?”

You hummed thoughtfully, “Oh, I don’t know… Curly, blond hair, bright blue eyes… amazing abs,” you grinned, looking up at Billy to see him grinning. “If you know anyone like that, send them my way, yeah?”

As you began to pull away from Billy, ready to go change, a gentle tug on your wrist brought you spinning back into his chest. “I think I know someone, and he’s actually into you, too.” Billy ran a finger down your jawline, your eyes shining against the sun while you looked at him. “Can I take you to dinner tonight?”

“Yeah,” you said without hesitation, nodding against his palm, “that would be great. Let me change and we can head out.”

“Perfect, I’ll be waiting,” he smiled while placing a kiss to your cheek. You giggled quietly and gave his chest a quick pat, before turning on your heel and heading into the changing rooms. A blush was spread across your cheeks and your heart was beating wildly, but you could tell that this summer was gonna be a good one.

--

All Writing Taglist (OPEN): @teageowen @mads---world @alex--awesome--22 @hxdesworld @frozenhuntress67 @samanthasmileys @simonsaysyasss @marvelismylifffe @bademliimagnum @michael-langdxn @wherewecangazeintothestars

Billy Hargrove Taglist (OPEN): @billyinabarrel @admiralsixx @ssstutteringbbbill

[rcris123]

“How’re you feelin’?” Arthur asks Kieran that evening after things settled down a lil’.

“Dizzy.” The boy was still nursing his injured arm, looking rather pitiful. Grimshaw bandaged it “But I guess it’ll heal.”

“Unless you catch the fever.” Sean mocked.

It felt isolated the way all of ‘em that went away were the ones around this fire. That and Charles. Isaac fell asleep in Arthur’s arms; must have exhausted him being in an actual gunfight.

“Shut up!” Kieran mused up the courage.

Sean laughs: “Keep tryin’.”

And the kid scowls, and changes the subject: “Sadie, I ain’t got the time to thank you. I-I know you ain’t- I mean-”

“I don’t hate you.” She says drily. “But don’t you think we’re friends either.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t even think of it.” A pause. “I’m still sorry for what happened to Jack.”

“That’s done now.” Arthur says, brushes a few strands of hair from Isaac’s forehead. “We keep goin’.”

“An’ what ‘bout Dutch?” Sean interrupts.

Arthur just lets out a long sigh.

“Ain’t seen him that... what you call it?” Sean continued.

“Unhinged?” Charles chimes in.

“... Well... Without morals I mean. You went back for me, you did. And that pile of cowdungs that’s Micah.”

Arthur coughs a laugh at that; hearing Sean insult Micah in increasingly creative ways ain’t ever gonna get old.

“Guess I’m still an O’Driscoll to them- to Dutch at least. I mean it ain’t makin’ sense goin’ to rescue me-”

“The fewer O’Driscolls the better.” Sadie’s stone cold. “Just want them all gone. Every. Single. Last one o’em bastard.”

“I’m so sorry, Sadie...” Kieran truly sounds heartbroken and it seems he ain’t ever heard the story of what happened to her. “Truly I am-”

“I don’t want your pity, kid.” She spits.

Sebastian puts a hand on Kieran’s back before the boy gets to speak again.

“I think we all need to rest now-” Arthur tried.

Sean won’t have it: “Can’t rest now thinkin’ Dutch might just lemme rot if I were to get lost even just a lil’ bit, or worse put a bullet in me head ‘cause I said somethin’ he ain’t liked. It gave me the chills hearin’ him talk like that- how long’s it been for you Arthur? In the gang I mean?”

“20 years.”

“20 years and ye think that’ll gain a man some respect...”

“Ye’r thinkin’ too much lately, Sean.” Arthur chuckles.

“Ain’t you always said to use me noggin?!”

“Well it’s better that you don’t right now.”

“That ain’t fair, Arthur.”

A hand comes to rest on Arthur’s shoulders and everyone looks up: Hosea.

“Managed to calm the ol’ man down.” He says, taking a seat by Arthur and Isaac. And Hosea brushes the boy’s head with the same care as his actual father. “You really upset him this time ‘round, Arthur.”

A sigh: “I know...”

“It’s better if you apologize-”

“Yeah.” Arthur didn’t let him finish. “I ain’t meant it to end the way it did... I just-”

“No, I understand.” Hosea continues. “Things are... let’s say complicated.” It’s Sebastian that looks at the old man, knowingly. “And it’s the same for our good ol’ Dutch there. He cares for you, Arthur.”

“I know...” voice drops penitently.

“He fears he’s gonna lose a dear old friend-”

“But I can’t just sit an’ do nothin’!” Arthur sighs.

“Raising the boy made you real caring, ain’t it?”

“I guess...” A scratch of the beard, a purse of lips: “But you know how it was.”

“No, I ain’t blaming you.” Hosea lifted his hands defensively. “I’ve just been thinking that things feel like slipping. Ever since Blackwater.” Charles and Sean nodded. “And with you being gone more often I feel somehow older.” Old man gave a bitter laugh, followed by a dry cough. “I feel-” a drawn-out exhale. “I feel like I don’t have the strength to hold all together anymore.”

Arthur’s silent and if he wouldn’t be holding Isaac he’d try to comfort Hosea with a touch.

“It’s too much to ask this of you, Arthur... But here I am.”

“Hosea-”

“English’s tryin’.” Sean butts in, sounding somewhat more quiet than usual, and still that was some courage from him for all the trouble Hosea gave him for laziness. “I mean I ain’t knowin’ why the hell’ll save this soggy ol’ bread.” He gestured to Kieran and the kid scowled.

“It was certainly lucky.” Hosea replies. “It’s true that if the O’Driscolls found Kieran in the camp they knew where we were and could of come with even more men. But the undead- I mean there were legends among Creoles about something called zonbi. I guess the people around here should know something if there's a plague and if we're in any danger of getting it.”

Arthur nods: "I'm comin' with you."

"Well if you got the disposition.. I think bringing this to Dutch soon will appease him somewhat and make it all seem like less of an act of defiance."

"O'course."

Arthur goes to stand up, almost forgets Isaac in his arms. And he's also reminded of that letter…

"And I guess I'll go see Mary."

"Her?" Sean's surprised. "Ain't you got done with that long ago?... I mean no offense but I heard the stories..."

John couldn't keep his mouth shut, that and Uncle.

"I was, but she popped up again." A sigh. "But I ain't deserving her and she ain't deserving me. So I gotta end things. Proper this time…"

"You want me to come with you?..." Sebastian spoke quietly until voice died down completely and he pursed his lips as if he said something wrong.

"I…" Arthur tried to find words. "I would-"

"Rather do that alone. Yes…" He cuts him. "I get that…"

The world ain't kind to lovers like them.

"I'm sorry, Sebastian…"

But Sebastian gave a smile:

“You and Hosea take care out there.” Arthur nods. “I’ll get Isaac upstairs.” And now, trying his best to not wake the boy up he lifts him up, but Isaac’s eyes flutter awake.

Sebastian holds him up and Isaac mutters a half asleep: “Pa?”

“Go get some rest kid, you earned it” Father smiles to his son and one could see the pride that flushes on the boy’s cheeks as he’s lulled away with care.

And Christ, he'd love to kiss Sebastian right now, to give him the courage to see Mary, 'cause he's feeling like he'll go soft and weak again. A touch of the necklace; he’s still there. A deep breath in.

“Well… guess we should get goin’...” Arthur gets up from the log he was standing on: “Rest up, Kieran. Take blankets from upstairs if you need to.”

“T-thank you, Arthur.”

 The road to Saint Denis he could do in his sleep by now, and with the sun setting like it was he almost did. Hosea didn’t talk, only coughed from time to time. Then:

“Arthur… I… Maybe there’s no good place to ask or say this, but- Do you remember how me and Dutch met? Back in ‘72?”

“ ‘Course I do.” Heart started to shrink in his chest; he knew what came after this.

“And is there anything that you want to tell me about you and...”

“There ain’t much to it...” a sigh; it ain’t even been that long ago. “Man saved my sorry ass just ‘cause Isaac happened to be with me and he happened to have been a childless father-” Another sigh, or maybe it was a defeated groan: “What you want from me, Hosea? ‘cause I ain’t knowin’ how I got here, just know that I goddamn did...”

Hosea remained quiet for a while; there was Saint Denis with all its electrical glory, there to illuminate fossils and human scum, then: “He strikes me as a good man. Sebastian I mean...”

“Ain’t I keepin’ a record of courting people much better than myself...” a bitter laugh. He’s going to see that Mary again; what a sad, deluded fool he was... “Guess we should be splittin’ up about here.”

“I’ll meet you back around here.”

Where were they even? Well that looked like the Police Station, by the way lawmen buzzed around the entrance. She’s at the Grand Hotel just a street further. Sun’s almost done setting by the time he reaches the structure, head’s bowed low and he ain’t even truly looking for her. There’s a pit in his stomach, gnawing at him. And then she hears her from above him:

“Arthur! Arthur you came!”

He dismounts, looks up for a brief moment: “Yeah, I came...”

“Wait there! I’m coming straight down” She had a bright smile on her face as she rushes downstairs.

Arthur takes a deep breath in: there were people staring and he throws them a glance. It ain’t none of their business, and he fears it’s hardly his own. Oh what a fool he’ll make of himself once more; seems to be a trend when it came to Arthur Morgan and love...

Dumb love... Is he going to let this one slip away as well. A scratch of the beard then hand goes down to rub the necklace. Christ!

She’s downstairs already: “Arthur...” She sounds as in love as she ever was, and to think back to how her face drained of color upon seeing Isaac...

“Hello, Mary.” He can’t match her enthusiasm.

“You came...” Arthur just nods. “How’s the boy? Isaac was his name?”

At last he gains the courage to look her in the eyes, it almost sounded like she cared and it’s tearing at him. If only she could of been a mother. If only he could have been anything but an outlaw. But things ain’t changed; she told him they never would. But maybe he just hasn’t been looking in the right places all this time. Sebastian ain’t no woman, but there ain’t no question that man loved Arthur, with all his biggest flaws and the son to boot – or maybe the son was the only reason Arthur was deserving of love in the first place. And with that tightness in his chest thinking of him now when Mary was right before him, Arthur surely seemed to love just as much in return...

He hasn’t replied in a while: “Arthur?... What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’.” He purses his lips, shifts weight from one leg to the other. “The boy’s fine. Been a long day...” But she needed his help with something: “But what you called me for?”

She tucks her hands into each other: “Well... Daddy-”

“Your father!?” He’s offended but not surprised: “Should of known...” He takes steps away.

“Arthur! I’m sure you’d understand, being a father yourself and all...” she follows him, voice pitched.

Arthur spins on his heels: “Well at least I’m aware I’m a no good father, unlike your own.”

She purses her lips: “I know Daddy wasn’t kind to you... but... but can you hate a man for the sin of loving his daughter?...”

“What ‘bout his son? Jaime?” Arthur takes a stride forward. “Look where all that love got him! Running with a bunch of lunatics! And you! Is that where this pure life has gotten you!? Begging me for help?! ‘cause he no doubt went drinking and whoring and gambling?!”

Mary turns away almost putting her hands in her head: “Be kind to me!... Arthur...”

But Arthur spins away once more, his voice low once again:

“Were you kind to me, Mary? Were you kind calling my son a degenerate, tellin’ me I haven’t even tried, when I did. I did, Mary. It’s why I came, but I see now I’ve come all this way for nothin’...”

“Arthur!... Oh Arthur, I’m- I’m sorry...” He lets her draw close. “I... I missed you.”

And he looks at her, how she stretches her hands out for him to hold them. He does, only to fold them in on themselves, back towards the woman’s chest:  

“I missed you for a long time, Mary. But it’s done now. I may be the best man you know at frightening decent people, but for my son, I cannot.”

He withdraws his hands:

“Okay... Arthur...” She’s heartbroken and when she wants to tear her gaze away it falls down on his neckline, the medallion. A moment’s ponder; Arthur already drew away: “Can I at least know if... Is there someone else?”

“Yes.” And he hoped that was enough.

“... Can I know who?”

He climbs back in the saddle with a deep inhale: “You read the name on the medallion...” Her eyebrows knit together before a hand hides her mouth from hanging loose “Be well, Mary...”

She says not a word more and Arthur finds himself sitting on the sidewalk back at the police station, head in hands, rubbing his face until it’s no doubt red. To love a man, what a goddamn fool he is. A moron even. Dug himself into a hole there ain’t no escaping from; all he once had felt torn away bit by bit and all his attempts at stitching it back together with reasons that worked before no longer did. He betrayed Dutch horribly with one simple act. Ain’t it of been better if he was purely ruthless and not wanting to do something that ain’t his domain: kindness? He ain’t a do-gooder, he murders people, animals; he maims whatever he can get his hands on, even hope for the goddamn future. And somehow this broken mess that he was became a father and had to raise the kid ‘cause his Momma was killed – and he thought that’s been in no small part thanks to himself, the way the boy was fathered.

He’s afraid he’s gonna lose the boy too somewhere, sometime... And the thought hurts more than he can bear. He sits up to try to shake the feeling, gets inside, maybe he can make something of use.

And there was a man there putting up a poster.

“That a bounty poster, mister?” Arthur asks with a sniff and a faked cough; he’s keeping the tears away.

“Indeed.” The man had an almost pristine white coat, and what looked like some burn scar on his face. “Are you a bounty hunter, mister?”

“Happen to be, yes.”

“And are you efficient?”

“Took down the Captain of the Lemoyne Raiders so I guess I ain’t too bad neither.”

“Good.” Man stops pinning the poster and hands it over to Arthur, and soon after a card too: “Here’s my address. Bring the bounty to my house please.”

“Not the police station?” That was odd.

“Oh, no. I have a permit for taking care of psychically unstable people. You see, I’m a psychiatrist.”

“And what you needin’ a bounty for?”

“Ah, well, I also happen to be a scientist. And my newest invention is in need of a subject.”

“Yeah, but why a bounty-”

“It’s a device made to administer an effective, painless death, mister.”

Arthur grunts: “ ‘kay. But I’m afraid I ain’t caught your name.”

“Victoriano.”

Another Italian?... Although he sounded British. But that ain’t no business of his; Arthur’ll just return to sitting outside, waiting for Hosea.

He must have fallen asleep ‘cause the man shook him awake:

“Let’s go Arthur. I’ll tell you on the way.”

He snorts and grunts getting back up on Ghost, how late was it even?

“So, what you found out, Hosea?”

“Well, not much, but you definitely ain’t been wrong-”

“I know what I saw, Hosea. People call’em Night Folk.”

“Yes, yes. People are afraid to go out in the Bayou ‘cause of them, especially at night. Some said they were spirits of slaves that died, others claim they’re people turned mad by something in the water.”

That caught his attention. “So the water in the swamp ain’t safe?”

“I fear so too, yes.”

“So what we gonna do about that? Boil all water? ‘cause we’re still in the Bayou.”

“It’s worth the try.”

“That also means that Lakay spot me and the boys found ain’t safe.”

“Yes...” Hosea was terribly distraught.

“What about what Bill and Micah found?”

“Well they said it was full of degenerates, a gang called Murfree’s Brood, I think. Said they acted like animals, that they had a mutilated corpse propped up at the entrance like some kind of trophy.”

“Christ!” No more places to hide for them... “We’re running out of time, Hosea...”

“It’s the last push, this one. We’ll be gone soon. Dutch found a boat, wants us to leave the country.”

A bitter laugh: “And you believe that?”

“Well I can’t have been running a fool’s errand all these years. And if I was I guess I just convinced myself it ain’t true just so I have one last thing to cling to.” Hosea sighs after that. “But I’m old, Arthur. For me it doesn’t matter that much where it ends, how it ends. I lived my life, but Isaac, Jack-”

“I ain’t letting no harm come to that boy, I swear.”

“I know. I raised you two both. Isaac’s the closest thing to a grandson I’ll ever have. Bessie loved him...”

“I remember. She’d smother him all up.” A chuckle. “And the kid loved it to bits, having no mother and all...”

“Don’t blame yourself for that, you did all that you could have done.”

“And still I ain’t been a good father. I ain’t been meant to be a father-”

“Think of it as it could have been a lot worse, Arthur.” Hosea doesn’t stand his self-doubt. Never did.

And still, to think Hosea believed him and the boy should somehow get out of this life came as a surprise but comfort too, and courage.

People were asleep back at Shady Belle. It was crickets, the crackling of fire and the occasional snore that broke the silence. They hitched the horses beyond the bridge before passing over and that’s when he saw Sebastian slumped next to the campfire he left from. Heart sinks to the bottom of his guts.

“Goodnight, Arthur.” Hosea salutes before splitting their ways.

“ ’night.”

Sebastian wasn’t asleep when he reached him; just looked up at him, a bottle of whiskey in hand and a smoking cigarette in the other:

“Everything a’right?” he asked trying on some sobriety.

“Her father’s a no-good bastard an’ she calls me for help with that after degrading the way I raised my son.” A deep inhale and Arthur sits down beside him.

“Oouch.” Sebastian slurred, leaned closer then stopped. “Wanna go stroll a lil’? ‘Round the back of Shady Belle.”

“Sure-” Arthur helps the man up not a moment later.

It’s pitch black for a moment, as the light of the campfires still flickered behind them, but once ‘round the corner, a dim blue light illuminated the side of the manor, the trees and their faces. But Sebastian slips behind his back, wrapping his arms around his chest, face nestled in the crook of his neck, breathing slow. A pleasant shiver runs down his spine and Arthur dares keep that inhale in as he closes his eyes. There’s things he wanna say, things he wanna hear Sebastian speak about, but he just keeps quiet, ‘cause words cram in his mouth and nothing’s right. And there’s that feelin’ croppin’ up again, and those thoughts that he mulled over at the police station come racing back. Arthur’s clinging to him now. Mary ain’t ever touched him like this. But they were different people.

There’s still a whiskey bottle in the man’s hands. Arthur takes it and draws a bit away:

“Bet you I can drink this whole bottle in one sip?”

“Arthur-”

Too late, the bottle’s neck is to his lips and the liquor drains into his mouth and with big gulps down his throat. Higher and higher. It burns, his chest caught flames. Then it’s done and he throws the bottle away. He gives a laugh:

“Told you I can-” then his knees buckle underneath him and he falls to the ground.

Sebastian’s quick enough to catch him, but not quick enough so that they don’t end up on the muddy ground.

What a pitiful man he was; eyes become watery:

“It’s caught up to me... This mess...”

Sebastian rests his head on his shoulder: “You and me both...”

Arthur cups the man’s face as soon as his says that.

“You’re gonna get out-” It’s his only promise, when sober and when drunk alike: “You have to, you and the kid-”

“Shut up-” It’s lips on lips, rough, Sebastian’s hands pinning him down.

And he don’t understand what that’s supposed to mean, just huffs into the kiss.

“Shut up, you fool, you-” It’s sloppy, words panted when mouths ain’t on each other. “I can’t go on alone.” Sebastian stops, bows his head and buries it back in the crook of Arthur’s neck.

“You love me?...” A question, voice is breaking apart.

A kiss on his neck to make Arthur gasp out: “ ‘course I do-”

“For me? I ain’t worth it- Agh!” Sebastian bit into his neck at that remark.

“Who the fuck else...”

“Isaac...”

“You both.” His nose rubs against the itching spot that was left behind. Then man shifts up, cups Arthur’s face, coaxing the head back, exposing the neck. “Arthur...” Another kiss trailing up from his collarbone. “Arthur-” The way that name slips out of his lips makes his pants wanna set up a tent. “I’m starting to make sense of things. With you.” A kiss on his jaw. “With you...”

Arthur strings him up by the thighs, stretching them apart until he’s straddled under Sebastian. And the man pants with the touch:

“You buckstuborn idiot- I thought of you.” Arthur muses, lifting his chin just slightly up, brushing his lips against the other’s where they ghosted above him. “She was right there, in front of me, and I thought of you... I loved her. I missed her...”

And now I miss you.

That he ain’t dare say it’s too much even for a drunken sap like he was.

Sebastian lunges in to devour his mouth once more, body grinds against Arthur’s; there’s whiskey on his breath, on his tongue. Cheap cigarettes, cheap liquor and cheap life choices ‘cause they’re both poor and got nowhere else to go. He’s gotten drunk so he ain’t gotta be afraid, of thoughts, of actions, of whatever the hell. He’s gotten drunk so he can be numb to the meaning of all these feelings. But not to touch.

And no one touched him like Sebastian did. Why is all he could ask. Why’s he deserving, why now, why Sebastian – why this moron that he was- And all this fighting raging on in his mind makes him grind the man against himself. It’s tights now and there’s a bulge bucking against his abdomen. Pants escape him. Wasn’t religion that talked about how the body desires without the mind consenting to it, ‘cause that’s what he wanted now.

“Sebastian-”

“Mhm-” the man purrs into the next kiss, coaxing him up. The grinding don’t stop.

“I-”there’s too much to say, mostly alcohol induced. “Shit-” There’s mud in his hair, on his clothes. It’s dirty work. They’re in camp-

He stops suddenly.

“You okay?” Sebastian runs a hand through sticky hair.

A single huff as he leans against the man’s chest, arms wrapping around his back.

“Isaac’s upstairs- Dutch, Everyone-” A sigh. “Not here...”

 Sebastian presses a kiss on the top of his head, then a chuckle when he’s done laying his face on top of his own:

“We could always keep quiet.”

“Not with this mud.”

“And you don’t fancy bathing in the bayou?”

“At the risk of alligator death? No.” Somehow man’s got him chuckling again. He’s feeling warm now and not in the aroused way; he’s still hard thou.

“Guess I just have to fuck you when no one’s watchin’-”

“Good luck with that.”

Arthur laughs, but before he has time to finish, Sebastian’s hand groped his half hard cock. Lips purse and he bucks his hips up; success came in the form of a barely abstained moan from the other. It’s then followed by a soft kiss on the neck from Arthur’s part. And now Sebastian’s laughing, a throaty, drunken laugher and he leans back in his arms. Arthur sways with him.

“Por favor, dame un beso.” Sebastian coos with a faint smile on his face.

“What?” He doesn’t understand; that ain’t English, was it.

“Un beso-” A kiss on Arthur’s lips. “Just a lil’ one-”

“What you tryina’ pull here?” Arthur’s still quite amused.

“Trying to teach you some Spanish.”

“Why?”

“So you’d know when I tell you besame.”

“What’s that mean-”

“Kiss me-”

And Arthur does, sucking the breath out of Sebastian, that an’ a moan. Why all the doubting from before when he’s pretty goddamn certain that he’s in love... It’s been so long- And he ain’t a good man, no matter how he felt-

“Christ...” he exhales when the kiss is broken. “Sebastian-”

“Arthur...”

He rubs the man’s cheeks with his thumbs, smiling like the fool he really was.

“Te amo.” Sebastian whispers with such grace.

 He wakes up with a headache; it takes a groan to set himself in motion- A blanket?

A hurried look to the side only to find Isaac curled next to them under a thin mat. A drawn out sigh as a hand goes to rest on the boy’s shoulder, offering gentle rubs now. Sebastian’s hardly awake himself, looking through half lidded eyes at the kid with one arm draped over Arthur’s chest. They slept in like that leaned on one of the porch’s posts, drunk again and with some wood to show what they’ve been thinkin’ last night, or it was probably the drink...

He’s been sighing a lot lately, so with the latest one he leans his head onto Sebastian’s.

“The boy really loves you.” Man says, voice gruff, glazed over by sleep and whiskey. “You’ve been a father many’d wish they had.”

A snort: “That ain’t true-”

“You love your son. More than anything.” Sebastian draws a finger across his chest. “I ain’t known any man to fight for their son like you do.”

“I’m coddling him...” Arthur scolds himself.

“Life ain’t of been kind to him if you weren’t.”

There goes one more deep exhale; finally admitting defeat: “Guess that much’s true. Wanted that for him. So he ain’t turning out like me.”

“He ain’t.” And he dips up for a kiss on the jaw before standing up and stretching his bones with a groan. Then a look at Arthur who ain’t yet got the courage to sit up: “And you need a bath.”

That and Sebastian’s gaze checks out the lil’ tent his pants put up with a smirk and for a moment he feared the man’ll put his boot on it. But Sebastian’s got at least that much decency. Instead he helps Arthur up.

By the time Isaac got up, Arthur got him some new clothes and to Miss Grimshaw’s surprise Arthur washed on his own volition, with a change of garments to boot. Sebastian went and fetches them some breakfast:

“Seems Pearson found alligator eggs.”

“Get outta here-” Arthur chaffs then he’s presented with a plate of hard boiled alligator eggs and a yellow sauce that smells like mustard.

“Alligator eggs?” Isaac almost trips over his pants while pulling them up trying to peek at the exotic dish. “Ever had ‘em Pa?”

“No.” And that’s signal that he should dig in already.

“What’s it taste like?” Isaac wastes no time asking.

“Chewy.” He hasn’t swallowed yet. “Fishy. Kinda salty but I think that’s on Pearson’s part.” Isaac giggles. “Sauce is decent thou.”

And once he’s all dressed boy wastes no time chowing down on his own portion. While Arthur should go talk with Dutch. ‘course Isaac notices.

“Where you going?” kid takes a bite. “Talk with Dutch?”

He can’t lie... “Yes.”

“Can I sit by you? ...Promise I won’t talk.”

“Yes...”

Isaac perked up: “Really?”

“Don’t ask twice I might just change my mind. Now c’mon.”

Sebastian didn’t follow; there were flames on the pyre and Sebastian was smart enough not to walk into them. Thankfully Dutch looked to be in a pleasant mood - not the same could be said for Molly O’Shea. She looked miserable, slumped on a crate.

“Mornin’.”

“Good morning to you too, Arthur.”

Here it comes; he sits down and Isaac beside him: “I’m sorry for yesterday.”

“It was very reckless of you.” Dutch’s tone was a note away from scolding.. “But I can’t not forgive you, Arthur.”

Arthur looked at him, trying to find the right words:

“You’re like a son to me.” Dutch continues. “All of us are family.”

He bobs his head: “It’s why I did it, Dutch.”

“I know...” Man sounded like he was just as sorry. “I just got scared.”

“I told you- What could I have done, Dutch?” he’s getting mildly frustrated.

“Distrust me. My judgement.”

“You ain’t lookin like ye’r trusting me very well right now.” Arthur’s real hoping his son either don’t catch what Dutch was saying or don’t stand up. A glance at him and sure enough he had his eyebrows knit

“Can I count on that trust?”

“Always, Dutch.”

Then silence.

“You know Hosea talked with the locals about them undead.” Arthur broke it at last.

“Yeah. He told me.”

“There’s something in the water that’s making it that way.”

Dutch turns to him:

“Would you and Hosea see about that? What’s causing it?”

“Sure.”

“Want to know who’s behind it.” Man rubs his hands with seeming anxiety. “There’s people out to extermin us. As if we’re vermin for not conforming to their uptight rules. Us and everyone who’s poor and unfortunate- Did you talk with the Indians?”

“Yes, saw them a couple of days ago. The father asked me to see his son near Citadel Rock.”

“Good. It might have something to do with that.”

“At this point who knows.”

“You’re right.”

Arthur gets up, urges Isaac to do the same, with permission and all he could go-

“I-...” Dutch utters, coaxing Arthur to turn his head back to him. “I’m sorry, for earlier.”

“Don’t mention it-”

“Are you taking the boy with you?”

“Yes...” Arthur scratches his beard.

“Take care there, Isaac, okay?” Dutch sounded much younger then, almost like someone he used to know a long time ago.

“Sure.” kid replies.

But first he makes sure he checks up on that Kieran kid. And he find him with Mary-Beth carefully tending to his wound.

Arthur leans on the pole keeping up the tent with a smirk. Isaac peeks behind his shoulder and snorts and with that both youngsters grow apart and a deep shade of red almost instantly:

“Ain’t meant to interrupt!” Arthur lifts his arms up. “Just came here to see how dear ol’ Kieran here’s doin’.” A chuckle.

“ I’m fine actually, thank you!” Yet he’s still rubbing his arm.

“Does it hurt?” Isaac asks making one more step forward.

“Not all that bad now.” Kieran darts is head to the side; Mary-Beth was looking down hiding her face behind curled locks. “Thanks to Mary-Beth.” Kieran lights up like fireworks. “B-but I won’t be here without you or your Pappy.”

Isaac’s beaming and Arthur can’t help smiling himself. Then he remembers:

“Weren’t you the one who said you wanted to go fishin’ sometime? For.. uh… that big Bluegill, ain’t it?”

“Oh! Yes!”

“Remind me when I get back and that arm o’ yours is stronger.”

“Sure- but where’re you going? After more O’Driscolls?”

“No. Not yet. Why?”

“ ‘cause there’s some things I wanna say.”

“Can’t you say them now?” Isaac intervenes.

But it’s Mary-Beth that talks next: “I said it’s best if things settle down a little. Dutch ain’t- well Dutch is...”

“I know.” Arthur says.

“I’ll tell you on that fishin’ trip. Promise.”

“Don’t forget.”

“No sir-” Kieran says that out of habit without paying mind that it wasn’t Arthur who said it, but his son. The father laughs.

“Get your strengths back soon, ‘kay?”

“Uh-huh.”

They should probably get goin’ already. He tells Isaac to fetch Sebastian and maybe some warmer clothes, while Arthur’s off to saddle the horses. But there’s something off. There by Pearson’s wagon, Micah’s talking. He listens in:

“Quite the woman.” He catches. “Quite the woman...” Arthur stops brushing Ghost. “You could make a feller real happy... bet you know how.” That’s it Arthur’s off, bagging the brush and that poor mare stretches her neck looking for pats.

“I got work to do now.” Abigail was pissed and after what happened with Jack this was a poor move of the bastard’s part.

But Arthur ain’t thought too far; Micah backs off hands in the air

“Oh, you’re a sneaky one, Morgan...” That inhale through teeth Micah did, tipping his chin up. “But I didn’t know I was your type.”

“Just back off, would you-” Arthur’s still larger than him.

“Woah there-” Somehow that cackle is uglier than he was: “Don’t wanna see you biting the pillows, cowpoke.”

Micah steps away like he’s facing off a wild beast and rest assured that comment sure made him bare his teeth:

“You watch that goddamn mouth-” Micah’s arms rose higher and there was fear at last in those cold eyes. “Lest you want a fist in it.”

“Easy, tough guy.” Man still laughs like he’s got the upper hand and the moment Arthur tears his gaze from him he notices Dutch looking over.

His lips purse as Micah backs even further away before spinning on his heels.

He didn’t even notice John coming by:

“You okay there, Arthur?”

“Don’t you pay him no mind.” Abigail reassures. “He’s all talk and no bite.”

He came there to help not to be helped.

“Sure, but you tell me if he ever gives u trouble again, Abigail.”

“What about you, thou?” John intervenes.

“I got fists and bullets.” Arthur grunts.

“He ain’t worth the trouble, Arthur.” Abigail encourages, the passes on to John: “And where’ve you been?”

Arthur’s already drawing away, back to his horses and saddles ‘cause Isaac’s down with the warmer clothes when John replies: “Been with Jack, playing something.”

“John Marston...” the surprise in Abigail’s tone is bringing him joy too. So the bastard can change.

“Did anything happen?” Isaac, bless his heart, noticed.

“No.” He ain’t gonna expose the boy to that idiot’s cruelty.

“Okay...” A hand rubs the kid’s back with rigour.

“So... Isaac said I can borrow one of your coats.” Sebastian said, packing that coat he called ‘the Grizzly’ ‘cause he made it out of one.

He entirely forgot about Micah; there’s a smile on his face: “I’d love to see you in it.”

Sebastian chuckles; Arthur knew exactly what was on the man’s lips but he ain’t dare say it.

They should be reaching Citadel Rock by Nightfall if all went smoothly. And then the next morning, if all, again, went according to plan, they should be reaching the Grizzlies border near the Heartlands’ Overflow where their bounty was last seen.

Road sure is long enough, and most of it comes quiet. At one point a wild turkey cut their path and Isaac pulled out his bow and with one swift motion downed the bird from a gallop. He almost heard Sebastian gasp then. They hung the bird on Big Sir and went on. A storm caught up to them sometime in the afternoon near Dewberry Creek, good thing they packed the thicker coats ‘cause they sure as shit needed ‘em now. Isaac rode with his arms crossed and hunched over and Arthur got the rear to make sure Big Sir ain’t getting lazy all of a sudden.

The sunset barely shines through the breaking clouds and for the first time in weeks it smells of cold. Citadel Rock’s up ahead and they pass just by Cornwall Kerosene and Tar – rather unbelievable he’ll be robbing Cornwall of all people yet again. Here’s hopin’ this time it’s quiet.

And there’s Eagle Flies on the cliff with that gorgeous splash horse.

“You came.” Lad almost sounded surprised when the lot of ‘em pulled up.

“ ‘Course I came. Said I would.” Arthur dismounts already, Sebastian soon following suit.

And Eagle Flies wastes no time telling them what they gotta do: “There’s a foreman. His name is Danbury. He has the files in the office above the refinery room.” He hands Arthur the binoculars he was using: “It’s that window with the blind drawn up.”

“I see it.” He replies.

“If the files are as incriminating as we believe” Eagle Flies continues taking the binoculars back. “Cornwall’s men will destroy them if they know you’re coming.”

“There’s only one of us goin’ in so I don’t intend on lettin’ ‘em know I’m comin’, son.” Arthur spoke, then turned to Sebastian. “Can you get me outta trouble if it comes knockin’.”

“ ‘course...” man said.

“Isaac, you find a hidden spot and set up camp, far enough away but not too far.”

“Got it, Pa.”

Arthur returns to Eagle Flies who was looking at the boy galloping off already:

“What would the files say?”

“There’ll be a report from Leland Oil Development Company.”

A sigh: “Now any ideas about how I sneak into the place’ll be greatly appreciated.”

“You could crawl under the fence. Or hide in a wagon; they keep rolling in.”

“Wish me luck, Buck.” Arthur’s off without thinking too much about what he just said; there was a wagon ahead and he fully intended to sneak in that way.

He’s lucky enough that a train passes by and the wagon stops just in time for Arthur to crawl inside. It’s empty. And now here’s hopin’ they mistake him for cargo if one as much as looks in the back of it; he’s barely hiding. But he’s soon inside and with the night falling people get to yawning rather than watching out for shadows scurrying in the dark. He makes it pretty easily inside the building. And there people mill about absent-mindedly; it’s easy to sneak by, then upstairs. Maybe he’s got too much confidence opening the office door.

There was a man inside. A chair to the door, some intimidation tactics: raising fists and applying one for good measure to know he’s meaning business, and in the end he’s got the papers. But o’course someone heard it, came around asking what happened.

So Arthur snuck out the window. Where was that Sebastian he can’t tell but he saw him on that roof ‘cause the moment he’s out there’s a loud whistle and the bang of a pistol. Guards gather round and sure enough they give chase to what seemed to be one, no two outlaws drunk or stupid enough, or both, to rob oil coaches alone.

And ‘cause of that madman Arthur get to sneak out with no problems, but soon enough pulled round and shot off some of the pursuers that head out from the refinery.

No more of them and they seem safe enough away:

“Thought you wasn’t getting involved?!” Arthur’s probably sounding too much like a father and much less like a business partner.

“I decided to help.” Eagle Flies comments, eyebrows furrowed. “Because he refused the money.”

So Eagle Flies tried to pay their services to Sebastian. Goddamn reckless fools, both o’em, but at least he’s expecting the ol’ Buck to be that way.

“Thank you.” Arthur says. “You saved my life.” He takes out the papers and gives it to the lad; he looks them over as if it’s a loaf of bread when he hasn’t eaten in days: too little, but still better than nothing.

“I hope...” Eagle Flies spoke. “Well, I don’t know what I hope... but who knows, maybe these will be of some use.” Then he turns fully to face the two of ‘em. “Thank you, Sebastian, Arthur...” He got in the saddle. “I hope we can see each other again on friendlier terms...”

Off he went.

“What you charmed the kid with?” Arthur chaffs.

“Nothing. I’m not the talkative type.”

“Su~re.” Arthur draws the word out and Sebastian paints a smile, closing his eyes. “You’re about the second most talkative bastard I know.”

“Second to who?”

“Dutch o’course.” Arthur laughs, and Sebastian soon follows suit.

“Now I ain’t knowing if I should take that as a compliment or not.”

“Well, I like you, Sebastian.” He draws closer; there’s still commotion downhill at the refinery. “I like you terribly much.”

They should be heading away, finding Isaac, but Arthur dares brush a hand over Sebastian’s chest, just ‘cause he loved him and for a moment he had the man all to himself. And Sebastian blinked at the touch almost in surprise before an arm reached to bring him back again. There’s people wailing in the valley; horse hooves somewhere, and he ain’t caring in the least. Breath’s caught in chest and that urge that came over him when Sebastian’s looking at him like that sweeps him again; and in turn Arthur swoops the man in his arms for a kiss. And Sebastian eats his mouth out, hungry, fingers soon gripped in his hair, making it a mess.

Kiss breaks: “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”

Sebastian drags him behind himself not a moment later, deciding to throw Arthur in the nearest bushes. Branches scratch his cheeks but he ain’t caring, not when mouth’s on mouth again and that whole man above him. His hands are already working at Arthur’s vest, then shirt, then his head dips down and it had Arthur gasping. Sebastian’s lips trail kisses down from his collarbone to his nipple. Clothes are tugged to the side and one arm arches Arthur’s back, pushing him against Sebastian. His fists clench in the man’s clothes as his lips and tongue make a mess on his chest, lapping, sucking, with the occasional gentle bite. He’s going hard and hot and restless. Arthur’s hands work on undoing his suspenders and pants.

“Christ-”

It’s quick work from there: pants thrown off, Sebastian’s as well, erections spring free, then fingers in his mouth to be pushed wet inside Arthur. Lips purse and eyes squeeze shut. It’s unpleasant at first, but Sebastian’s all gentle. A wet kiss on his mouth, tongue slipping by inside, makes him forget to clench his ass. Fingers’re slick, in and out, scissoring from time to time, turning stings to itching and pressure’s building up inside his navel. Hands don’t sit still; Arthur runs them underneath the man’s shirt, popping buttons as they went, now rubbing thumbs on stiffening nipples. If their mouths ain’t been locked to each other the pants and gasps’ll just roll out. He ain’t letting them, keeps them for himself, frustrated and rushed as they were. They ain’t saints, and they’re gonna indulge this sin much further when Sebastian takes those fingers out, props his ass up on his knees and slowly slips inside him-

“Arthur~” That names slips from those lips again, so goddamn deliberate and so goddamn erotic; hips buck and he regrets it, but Sebastian moans biting his lip and maybe it’s all worth it.

One hand sneaks up Arthur’s navel, ruffling short body hair the other direction, and now once touching his erection. Arthur can’t but exhale through barely parted lips as all this builds heat inside him that he ain’t meant to withstand. Sebastian’s slow, pleasantly, agonizingly slow.

He wants to talk-

“U-agh--” In and out the thrusts pick up: “I hope you know the mess you makin’ o’me. Ahh-”

Sebastian drives that hand to his jaw, and then the other one too to cup his face; rhythm doesn’t slow down and Arthur ends up rolling his head inside the other’s palm.

“If only you knew what you o’me, Arthur-” Forehead’s pressed to forehead as they’re there bucking off. “Arthur--”

It builds and builds this strain between his legs, it twitches and throbs:

“Keep callin’ me that-” Arthur pants out.

“Arthur!”

“Augh-Jesus-” Hands grab at Sebastian’s ass, his hair, pull him close and up, inside. “Keep at it, Seba-astian- Christ!- Keep at it!” ‘cause that’s the spot that’s sweet, right there, right goddamn there.

Legs are wide and ass is high, pounded with some form of cruel mercy. Waves run up him hot, then cool. The night air prickles. And he’s kissing him; kissing Sebastian where he can reach: the neck, the ear, the jaw, the lips, sloppy and wet, leaving trails behind. And Sebastian’s moaning in his mouth, his ear. It’s him; it’s him, for him, with him. How’s he so goddamn enamored. Thrust by thrust he gets a lil louder a lil’ more shameless. There’s hooves nearby; they draw closer than away- Sebastian stops for barely a moment, covering Arthur’s mouth and his own. And that man’s cock inside him pulsating, struck right against the spot that’s sweet and he’s begging that be moved-

He’ll regret that in the morning. He finds his footing and with dexterity he ain’t thought he had, nestles Sebastian to him as he gets up, then laying the man down with a thud. It hurt moving like that, his teeth are clenched and there’s a groan, but that goddamn cock’s still too good and there Arthur moves: up and forward then back again. Slow at first then fast ‘cause he can’t take it. Both his hands rest on Sebastian’s chest now, snuck under the shirt’s fabric where fingers brush against the nipples, as thrusts pick up in speed. And it’s relentless.

Sebastian has to turn his head to the side to let those sweet moans out and what a sight that was; and always will be: to have him at his mercy and be at his instead, ‘cause it ain’t like he’s not there as lustful.

“Arthur—Agh-a-” Faster, harsher, so he says his name out loud like no one ever did. “AGh-Arh-”

That was one fine goddamn dandy. So fine. Arthur’s propped in just one hand, huffing, biting his own lip, so with the other he can run his fingers through that man’s sideburns. And he should be saying something, but he can’t speak now; he just keeps working himself until the knot’s unbearable.

Sebastian catches his thumb into his mouth, and the way the lips and tongue moved to draw him in’s suggestive enough to have him buckle forward under the pressure of the orgasm. He stands still, Sebastian doesn’t: catches his hips and keeps on going-

“AUGH- Ugh- Seba-a-Christ!”

It’s just a few more rough thrusts before he’s done. Sebastian vibrates under him, moans long, drawn out, in hiccups. There’s cum in his ass and he sits right up to get it out. The shirt’s goddamn ruined. He wipes the stains off with one hand.

“What a goddamn mess-” Arthur pants; there’s a smile there and Sebastian looks at him from where he was flat on the ground with leaves in his messy hair and returns the gesture:

“Uh-huh...”

Arthur stretches up: “Shit!” It hurt. Sebastian cackles beneath him: “What?”

“Think of me.” That goddamn grin on the man’s face.

He scoffs: “Always, buck.” Nonchalantly, like it’s always been there.

The faintest gasp; Sebastian props himself on his elbows, lost in thought.

Arthur’s at last tying up his suspenders: “We should get going-”

The man pulls at his legs, shoves Arthur on his knees and on top of him. It ain’t gentle:

“The hell-” Sebastian found his neck to kiss it, warm hand wrapping around his back to hold him there.

“Just a lil’ while longer, Arthur.” Obliged; Arthur lays his head down, finding a way to rest it on his chest, as Sebastian draws lines over his shoulders. “Significas mucho para mí... Arthur. Buck...” the last one sounds like he’s tasting the word.

“You gonna tell me what that means in English?”

“You mean so much to me.” Sebastian combs Arthur’s hair with such grace. “It’s been...”

“So long?... Yeah... Me too.” A kiss to his forehead. “But we gotta get back to Isaac. We left him alone-”

Up they go; Sebastian lifting both of them up before he can finish his sentence.

Dust and fluids get smudged off, clothes buttoned back together before they get back up and set out. Arthur’s whistling and when the whistle returns they know it’s Isaac.

It’s a small fire the boy’s built.

“I burned the turkey a bit.” Isaac says before looking up at them both, then his eyes squint: “You fucked?...” No answer, kid turns his head away, shifts on the spot, then looks back at a loss of words, lips puckered and eyes wide.

The silence is awkward as they sit down; Arthur takes a bit of cooked meat and chews it on. Isaac shortly clears his throats and reaches for the coffee mug:

“I found some berries. We didn’t have any more mushrooms or other herbs.”

“And this’s got mint on it.” Arthur notes.

“Yeah... You like it?” Isaac picks up a more joyous face.

“Quite delicious actually!” Boy smiles wide. “Here. Can you hand me some berries?”

Sebastian’s still frozen in the knowledge that the boy asked him if they bucked it off behind some bushes; Arthur bumps him with his shoulder:

“Eat up, please.”

As if snapped out of some trance, the man does.

 But there ain’t no nice dinner and sweet rest that could’ave prepared them for finding that bounty in a camp that starts shooting right at ‘em. Sure they went after Wofford but this time there ain’t no place to hide.

Isaac’s a decent shot, even in the open like this, but he’s still fearing for the boy’s life. And bullets fly past their target ‘cause he keeps darting back to a panicked Big Sir, galloping with his son in the saddle trying to aim. Sebastian says nothing; he’s effective. Finally, somehow, shots start landing where they need to; it much resembles how he used to be shooting: a few scattered bullets to the chest area until the body don’t flinch no more.

But in that frenzy he almost forgot the bounty’s meant to be alive-

“Pa! He’s escaping!”

Ghost’s a fast horse; he spurs her round and to a gallop, picking up his lasso as he goes. She’s huffing under him but the bounty’s lil’ horse can’t keep up.

Feller falls from his mount with a shout. Arthur pulls the reins while lassoing the man in.

“A’right! You got me!” Arthur dismounts and hogties him good. “I’ll come with you, you son of’a bitch.”

Something snaps inside thinking that this person before him’s gonna end up some scientist’s Guinea pig, but the bastard’s not done talking:

“You’re your own jail keeper, mister. In a prison of your own making.”

“Shut up!” A hard punch to the man’s face and the body slumps. He ain’t dead, just knocked out, but Arthur ain’t in the mood for a philosophy lesson from some goddamn outlaw he’s taking in to be judged.

He damn well knows he ain’t righteous, no need for anyone else to tell him that.

He picks the man up and whistles for the others. Ghost, the sweet darlin’, comes as well and he stows the bounty on her back this time. Isaac comes in view just as he got back in the saddle:

“You okay, kid?”

“Yeah.” He’s huffing from effort. “Sir Lancelot’s a lot to handle when spooked.”

Arthur purses his lips and sighs: “I’m sorry.”

Boy scratches his neck, twists his lips: “Wha-? But you ain’t done nothin’.”

That was the point... He worried too much and got ineffective and-

“Ah, don’t mind me, I’m just an ol’ geezer.”

“You did well, Arthur.” Sebastian chimes in.

A bob of the head: “Then let’s get the bastard back before he wakes up an’ starts talkin’.”

 The road ahead seems interminable. And indeed the bounty woke up, but they gagged him so he’d shut his mouth. The groaning and choking got annoying after a while. About midday they take a break, for the horses and themselves to eat something. A storm was to roll in again. It got cold, frighteningly cold real fast, the smell of rain almost overbearing. It’s electric.

But the downpour don’t come until they pass the Kamasa River and enter marshland. Arthur checks the address on the little card Victoriano gave him; asks Sebastian if he knows where it is. Sure enough, man leads them straight there.

They’re all wet to the bone and the poor feller up on Ghost’s hide stopped struggling, but fear was written all over his face. He writhes as he’s taken down, but only for a moment.

Sebastian knocks on the door and sure enough mister Victoriano opens, who looks at the man before him, then Arthur with the bounty:

“Ah, excellent! You brought him. And in such a short time. Very good.” The professor exists the house, trying up his white coat to shield from the rain and comes to point him where to ‘deposit’ the bounty: “Bring him here, please.”

“He was a pain to deal with-”Arthur heaves flinging the body on a chair in the shed he was shown by the side of the house.

Mister Victoriano then darts back inside the house: “Wait here. For payment.”

Arthur joins Sebastian by the doorframe not a moment later.

He sees the woman: ghostly pale skin, icy blue eyes and hair of such a shade of blond that it almost looked white as well. She stares at them and then gets closer; and Sebastian’s staring back:

“Myra...” man gasps out.

That was his former wife wasn’t she...

[queen-scribbles]

Ritual

@pillarspromptsweekly fill 94: In Memorium. I wound up using Charity, since I”ve already done a similar fic for Tavi, and Emiri doesn’t really remember her family enough. Plus, y’know, I’m still giddy I get to write married!Ederity, even if it’s a less fluffy subject than usual.

                                             -----------------------------

She wished she could forget what today was.

But considering she was awake hours before sunrise and it was already all she could think about, Charity didn’t figure there were good odds on forgetting. Maybe that was a good thing, she mused, rubbing her face with one hand. Guilt still prickled, much like the tingling in the arm trapped under her sleeping husband, even years later.

She needed to pray. And while she wasn’t really worried about waking Edér--the man slept like a log--she did want to do so alone. So she gently extricated her arm from under him and rolled out of bed. Her hair went up in a hasty bun, messy and likely full of knots, and she pulled on the first clothes she could reach. No shoes; it was still warm enough and it felt right to be barefoot for this.

Sparrow mroawed softly, twining between her ankles, and Charity picked her up. “You wanna come with me?”

Mrrrrrr

“Well, alright. But you’ll have to stay away from the candles.” Cat in hand, Charity slipped from the bedroom and padded out to the chapel.

                                              -o-   -o-    -o-

She sat there for hours, the ache in her chest steadily growing the more the sky tinged pink and gold with approaching dawn. Losing a sister was bad enough. Feeling responsible for that loss kept the pain fresh significantly longer. Charity leaned forward to confirm the sun was fully over the horizon.

She hugged her knees into her chest, vaguely felt the aches that came with sitting on the floor, and pulled in a shaky breath. It was time.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, throat already tight. “Sorry I couldn’t help, sorry I didn’t know more.” Just like every year, the memory of rattling, labored breaths going harshly, abruptly silent pressed in, sharp as if it had been yesterday. “I hope...” She sniffled, wiped her nose on her sleeve as her eyes burned. “I hope, if the Wheel’s made ya someone new by now, that you’re happy. I hope Berath granted you that kindness after takin’ you so young.” Damn blight.

Sparrow chose that moment to slink under Charity’s tented knees and headbutt her hand, as if she could sense her distress. Charity smiled faintly and scritched between her calico’s ears. Satisfied she’d done her part, Sparrow laid down, tail lazily curling and uncurling in the sunlight stripes decorating the floor.

Grateful as she was for her cat’s intervention, the melancholy still lingered. If this year followed the pattern, that ache would stay til she went to bed. After seventeen years, she was used to it. Few more minutes, then I go about  my day... She had a lot to do, and while it wouldn’t entirely distract her, it would help.

The chapel door creaked softly as it opened--they’d need to fix that before it got too cold--and the muted sound of booted footsteps carried someone closer.

“Char?” The concern in Edér’s voice was obvious. “What’s wrong?”

She tried to surreptitiously wipe her eyes before he reached her so he didn’t get the wrong idea. “Nothin’s really wrong....”

He scoffed quietly. “Am I really s’pposed to believe that when you’re sittin’ on the chapel floor barefoot an’ lookin’ like you been cryin’ this early in the mornin’?”

He had a point. “It’s not...” How did she explain this little ritual of hers? “It’s an old wound that hurts worse one day a year.”

Edér chuckled and offered her his hand. “Got a couple of those m’self, darlin’. Whenever you’re ready to stop bein’ cryptic, I’m here for ya.”

Another good point. He was just full of them this morning. Charity smiled wryly as she accepted the hand up. If she could be open with anyone about this, it would be him. She let him haul her upright, careful not to step on Sparrow, and leaned instinctively into the hug she knew he was going to offer. “’Member my sister?”

His breath caught and the hand rubbing her back paused ever so briefly. “Is this...?”

She nodded against his shirt. “The anniversary. Yeah.”

Edér was quiet for a long moment, just holding her and rubbing her back. “...You wanna talk about her?”

That’s never been part of the ritual, a piece of her immediately protested. But she’d never been married for this day, either. Things changed. She nodded against his shirt again, and Edér gently tugged her toward a proper seat.

“Alright, then,” he said encouragingly. “What was her name? What was she like?”

“Saela,” Charity replied with a shaky smile. One hand reached for her necklace, zipping the pendent back and forth on the chain. “She was outgoing and adventurous and always so, so happy.” She snorted softly. “Our parents named her well. She liked to stick fight with the boy next door, wore trousers under her dresses, ‘cause she liked dresses but they didn’t work so well for climbin’ trees an’ such. Ma used to say she had a smile so sunny it must’ve been blessed by Eothas himself.”

“Sounds like a good kid,” Edér commented, reaching for her hand to intertwine their fingers.

“She also hated vegetable,” Charity said with a laugh. She hadn’t talked about Saela in ages. It felt good to share stories with someone. “Which I guess is normal. An’ fruit, which is less normal. Our mom had to get really tricky for her to eat anything with either in it. And she sometimes would wander off to have adventures when she was s’pposed to be helpin’ Papa with the vorlas.” Not for the first time, the thought floated through her mind: Maybe if she’d had more adventures and picked less vorlas she’d still be alive. She squeezed Edér’s hand appreciatively. “I use’ta get so mad at her for that, ‘cause the worst she ever got was a scoldin’ no mater how many times she did it. ‘Course when she got sick I found myself wishin’ she’d run off one more time; maybe if she hadn’t been around s’much vorlas she wouldn’t’ve caught the... the sickness.”

Edér winced. “Effigy’s eyes, Char, she got that?” He pulled her closer to wrap his other arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry, darlin’. We heard about that... plague or whatever you’d call it, down here. Sounded blazin’ nasty.”

“It was,” she said softly. “An’ see, I’d been apprenticin’ with this traveling healer who would visit smaller towns for a stretch t’ help with ailments an’ injuries an’ such, but he’d moved on when that swept through. So there I was, fourteen years old, an’ scramblin’ to help my baby sister with two measly years of apprenticeship under my belt.  I knew how to treat symptoms; what to brew as a tea t’ help her breathing, or what would dull aches an’ soothe her fever. But I didn’t know how to treat the root of it ‘sides pray and hope for a blazin’ miracle.” She sniffled at the memory, curled in closer to Edér’s side. “So all I could do for Saela was make her comfortable and sit there. Watch her get weaker and weaker, listen to her cough get worse and worse ‘til she could barely breathe.

“That last night, I think part of me knew.” He voice went flat; reciting facts she wanted to share with him but gating off emotions that still hurt. “I was so tired I could barely keep my eyes open, but somethin’ wouldn’t let me sleep. I tried everything one last time. Prayer, every medicinal concoction I knew that might help... but none of it did.” She had to compose herself as the memory of that horrible frozen moment of silence hit, the sluggish heartbeats before Ma wailed and Papa cursed and her family plunged headlong into the darkest year of their lives. Edér, bless him, didn’t rush her.  “So every year I sit that last vigil to remember her. To pray that if she’s done her turn on the Wheel, whoever she is now is happy. And to... apologize.”

“What for?” Edér protested, indignant on her behalf. “That blight was th’ worst thing to hit this side a’ the ocean for the past hundred years. From what I heard, healers an’ priests with decades of practice under their belts couldn’t always cure it. Whadda you have to apologize for?”

Charity shrugged. “She was my sister and she died. The lady next farm over came down with it, too, and I gave her son some advice which I guess he used an’ she pulled through. But not Saela. Couldn’t... couldn’t save her.” Her thumb rubbed futilely across her palm, missing the long-lost worry stone that had served as a reminder of her sister. The words had come out more bitter and woeful than she really felt, but this day was always hard on her nerves. “I know it ain’t really my fault, but...” She sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder.  “I think it’s only natural for kith to blame ourselves for things like that.”

“True,” Edér conceded, his thumb absently rubbing over her knuckles. “Gods know how many damn times I’ve wondered what mighta been different if I’d gone with Woden. Maybe nothin’. Maybe he’d still be alive. Maybe I’d be dead, too.”

“Well, I’m glad that didn’t happen,” Charity said lightly, trying to fight the deep-seated melancholy.

Edér chuckled. “So’m I. Missin’ ‘em’s all well and good, wonderin’ a little’s no harm, just don’t wallow in it.” He kissed her temple. “That don’t lead nowhere good.”

Trust him to worry about her. It made her smile, just a little. “I know,” she promised. “No wallowing, trust me. It’s just hard losing family, and that never goes completely away.”

“Is that why you made yourself so busy today? I know you’ve got a lot on your plate.”

“You’re smarter’n you look,” Charity teased, which earned a mild ‘hey now’ of protest from her husband. “That’s exactly why. And speakin’ of my schedule, we better go eat breakfast if we wanna have it together before I get to things. An’ don’t you need to get to wok?”

“Now that I’m sure everything’s alright--so to speak--with my wife, I prob’ly should,” he acknowledged with a laugh. “But breakfast first.”

“Breakfast first,” Charity agreed, stealing a kiss before she pushed to her feet.

Edér stood as well, wrapping his arm around her shoulders again as they headed back to the house. Charity found herself silently leaning into the support he offered. She might not be able to forget what today was, but having him to lean on would make it easier to handle.

------------------------

Saela is a Nordic name that should be pronounced “Sy-lah”(rhymes with Lila), but I think with Eoran pronunciation rules it would be said “Say-lah”, so whichever of the two you pick is fine, I guess. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ It means happiness or bliss, to go with Charity’s birth name of Jara(should be said “Yara”) which means honeycomb or spring. Clearly their parents were very happy in Readceras.

[buckymcbuttfacebarnes]

reunions are the best part

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: abt 1700

request: hey can u write about where bucky & the reader are dating, and one night after the two went on separated missions, bucky came back bringing an random gift to her and its a necklace with the word 'b' on it, bc he wanted everyone to know shes only his and she loves it? and its all fluffy and romantic please? (requested by anon)

a/n: its fluff city baby. thank u for this request anon i hope it doesnt disappoint xx

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

There was very little to be happy about when you and Bucky were forced to separate from one another. Though you were both well-aware that last-minute trips and dangerous expeditions were the main point in your job descriptions, it did not stop you from wallowing in that uncomfortable feeling of worry and longing.

That is why reunions were the best. They were the best part of any mission, hands down. You had been apart for three weeks, nearly a whole month. His mission had taken him to Spain, where he could walk along the shores of beaches and look up the glittering sun-tinged waves. Your mission had taken you to Ohio. You supposed it was a fine state, but it didn’t live up to Spain’s splendor.

He met you in your room, and even though you knew he was coming, you were still shocked when you saw him standing in the doorway, his lips curled into that ever-radiant smile. You shout his name in excitement as you clamber off the bed and jump into his arms.

“Hi, doll,” you hear him say.

“Hi, baby.”

God, how you loved to feel his arms around you, strong and firm. His left hand slips beneath the rising hem of your shirt, metal grazing the delicate skin of your lower back. It sends chill from the base of your spine to the very top. Your face is tucked into the crook of his neck. You can smell his cologne and the familiar scent warms you from head to toe.

“You missed me, huh?”

You take a good look at him, hands on either side of his face. “You cut your hair,” you muse, one hand floating up to touch the shortened strands.

“You don’t like it?”

“Very retro, Barnes,” you comment, a slight allusion to his days in the forties. It is not quite that short, but now it only comes past his earlobe. He has it messily brushed back from his face. “I like it.”

He grins, eyes crinkling jovially at the corners. “Good.”

“Good.”

“I should shower,” he sighs, hands running up and down the length of your sides, touching your skin. Every time he leaves he misses you more and more. “I probably smell like shit.”

“You don’t, just come lay down.”

This makes him laugh, but he shakes his head. You unravel your arms from around his neck, hands resting on his shoulders.

“C’mon, please? I missed you.”

“Oh don’t give me that,” he says, mimicking the look on your face by poking out his lower lip. He laughs and grabs at your wrists. “You’re welcome to come shower with me,” he suggests coquettishly, lifting an eyebrow as he presses a kiss to the inside of each wrist.

You bite down on your lower lip, masking a smile. “I’ve already showered.”

“You can never be too clean.”

In the shower he asks to wash your hair, but it’s already been washed, conditioned, and detangled, so instead you wash his.

“Can I use your shampoo? It smells better.”

“Yours smells just fine.”

He wrinkles his nose and you roll your eyes, but you oblige him anyway.

The water is hot, hotter than Bucky can initially stand, but he works through it. Beneath your hands, tense muscles succumb to relaxation. His head dips down to press loving kisses against your wet skin. He is so happy to be home.

In bed, his eyes are half open and his damp hair hangs down onto his forehead even though he keeps pushing it back. You tuck it behind his ears once or twice.

“I really like it this short.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you hum, flipping onto your stomach to look at him. It’s dark aside from the lamp on your nightstand. It casts a light on him that reminds you of the early morning sun. The shadows highlight the prominence of his brow bone and the small dimple in his chin. He is so handsome.

“You got really tan.”

“I know,” he laughs, “I was in the sun constantly.”’

“You go to the beach?”

“Of course I did. Sam forced me.”

“Lucky bastards,” you grimace.

“Hey,” Bucky chuckles, “I was thinking of you the whole time I was there.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course…” his flesh hand cups your face and you lean forward to kiss him. “Oh! I got something for you. Hold on.”

He gets out of bed to scramble through his suitcase, still packed with all of his things. It would probably remain like that for the next two weeks. Bucky was a terrible procrastinator and unfortunately, so were you.

From a small velvet dust bag, he pulls a blue velvet box.

“You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know. But I wanted to.”

Bucky, with a crooked grin upon his face, settles back into bed. His back rests against the headboard as he holds the box out to you. You sit up on your knees and open it up gingerly. Inside is a necklace. It is a delicate gold chain, simple and understated. On it hangs a small disc pendant which simply reads the letter ‘b’, printed in a simple lowercase font. It is simple, but it is so beautiful.

“Oh, Bucky,” you breathe. There is a lump in your throat and love in your heart. You lean forward and press a kiss to his lips, long and lingering. His hand cradles the back of your head.

“You like it?”

“I love it.”

“It’s ‘b’ for Bucky,” he needlessly explains.

“I thought it was ‘b’ for buttface.”

He laughs, “Alright, alright, smartass...Give me another kiss.” Bucky leans forward to meet your lips. “I just thought, you know, your my girl. And, doll, with a hot piece like you, I know guys might wanna try somethin’. Now they know, even when I’m not there. You’re my girl, I’m your guy.”

“That’s corny.”

“Oh, you think that’s corny? Wait ‘til you hear this one, dollface,” he holds his forefinger up in preparation. “When you wear this, it’ll be like a little piece of me is with you, I’ll be with you always.”

“I love you.” You settle into his lap, the necklace still in your hands. You cannot help but peer down at it lovingly. “Can you put this on me?”

He snatches the box from your hands with a mischievous smile, tossing it aside and onto the bedside table with a carelessness that makes you laugh. “Later,” he tells you quickly. “Right now I wanna see how much you love me.” He flips you over quickly and the sound of your laughter becomes the best thing he’s heard in weeks. It’s loud and beautiful and exactly right. It was everything.

“You’re so gross,” you say from beneath him.

“Gross? What’s gross—” he leans down, peppering kisses along the side of your face, then down the length of your neck “—about wanting to see how much my girl loves me?” When you don’t answer his hands find the ticklish spot on your side, making you squeal. “C’mon, tell me. Let me hear ya.”

“Nothing,” you respond quickly, eager to stop the torture. He refuses to let you off easy.

“What was that, doll? I didn’t quite hear you.”

“Nothing, nothing!” you chant, the words drawn out by ebbs of laughter.

He stops the torture. Now he is so close to you, both of his forearms on either side of you, his body against yours. You don’t mind the weight of him, you only want to feel him against you. Blue eyes appear bluer when surrounded by such perfectly tanned skin (you imagine they must be mirrors of what the ocean looked like), he watches you with amusement, the sight of your grin putting butterflies in his stomach.

“That’s my girl.”