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blackynsupremacy · 17 days ago

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THERE’S SOMETHING

ABOUT YOU.

CHAPTER 3

pairing: smallville!clark kent x blackfem!oc

fandom: smallville (2001-2011)

guest starring: aaliyah haughton as lyric james

also starring:

sam jones iii as pete ross

allison mack as chloe sullivan

kristin kreuk as lana lang

summary: ever since lana lang has moved in with the sullivan’s, clark kent’s nightly telescopic views of the galaxy and daily glimpse of the sunrise tend to get lonelier. that is until a moving truck, a wandering amicable feline, and her frustrated owner, lyric james, makes her debut in his life as her family are the new owners of the old potter house next door. things between the new neighbors start to shift as clark is tasked as her personal tour guide at her new school. one little slip is all it takes for her to learn he’s more than meets the eye in this small town.

contains: lots of words, friends to neighbors, use of gifs and photos for visuals, tooth rotting fluff, a bit of angst/arguing, lyric and clark getting closer, mild swearing, cute moments, slow burn, main audience is black readers but everyone is welcome. lyric’s thoughts, clark’s thoughts.

taglist: @rosiestalez @camiesully @paisholotus @ellethespaceunicorn @afrowrites @afrogirl3005 @tryingtograspctrl @zombigrlll @simply-the-best23 @jkr820 @gxuxhdjdu @sabrinasopposite @elitesanjisimp

please read: CHAPTER 2

lyric’s heavy eyes open as soon as her ears hear the siren sound of her alarm clock. darkness envelopes the room. her vision shifts to the alarm clock that reads five am on the dot. her hand slowly reaches to press the button that ceases the alarm. she’s early for once. so early that the sun hasn’t come up yet. wait—the sunrise. even though she’s half asleep and her thoughts are hazy, it all comes back to her memory: her family ate dinner with the kents last night, she also remembers clark, his loft, the telescope, and his invitation to watch the sunrise before school. her deep, brown pupils try to adjust by glancing at various objects in the room like her vanity, her closet, her various posters of her favorite musicians, and noir who’s four paws down on lyric’s chest, her pink button nose a mere centimeter from her owner’s.

“g’mornin’, baby girl. how’d you sleep, hm? you hungry?” lyric coos to her with a raspy voice as her fingertips caress the black strands of noir’s fuzzy head. the feline mewls in response and jumps down from the bed making a soft thud as all four paws strike a perfect landing on the hardwood floor. noir gazes at lyric in expectancy, her signature move of swaying her tail on the floor indicating that she was indeed hungry.

“okay, okay. i’ll get you breakfast, but i gotta be quick.” lyric complies and she sits upright to turn and remove her comforter. as soon as her feet connect to the floor, she makes her bed and trudges out of her bedroom to make her way to the kitchen downstairs, noir traveling not too far behind her. when she reaches her destination she spots both of her parents continuing their normal routines in a comfortable silence. crystal was preparing breakfast and joseph was reading the news as he munched on a red apple from the table fruit bowl.

“good morning, y’all!” lyric cheerfully greets her parents. a hug and a kiss on the forehead for her father. a hug and a kiss on the cheek for her mother. they were both shocked to see their daughter up so early, but they enjoyed her enthusiasm nonetheless.

“good morning, honey!”

“good morning morning, sweetheart.”

they respond still continuing their tasks.

“you’re up real early. i guess that means you’re ready for your first day at school?” joseph inquires as he watches lyric grab noir’s usual cat food and purple monogrammed food bowl from the cabinets before she squats down to pour out an appropriate amount, in which noir immediately indulges in. everyone, but lyric notices the wide, dimpled grin spread across her face before she answers,

“uh, yeah! i think i am. it’s a fresh start and no one knows me like that, so—i’ma make the best of it!”

“hmm! first, you’re up at five. now, the cheerful mood. i haven’t seen you this excited and confident to go to school if it’s not the last day of it before summer, lyric. not to mention that sunshiny smile! this wouldn’t have to do anything with a certain boy next door would it?” crystal teasingly jests, her own dimples appear to match her daughter’s expression.

“no, mama! it’s not like that. clark is sweet and all, but i just met him. we ain’t even friends like that yet, but i do appreciate him for by showing me the ropes on my first day. i can’t stay too long because we gotta meet before the bus comes!” she responds to fetch herself a bowl and spoon to pair them with frosted flakes and milk to quickly refuel her energy for the day. crystal feigned a surrender as she raised her hands.

“okay, baby! i’m just saying it sounded like you and clark had a nice time up in that barn after dinner when your father and i left the kents. neither of us didn’t want to disturb you two and we were glad that y’all were getting along, so martha and jonathan said it was fine for you to stay in there for a couple more minutes before clark walked you back home.”

lyric pauses her eating and she feels her face burn up at the realization of why her parents went off without her after the kents graciously invited the james family to have sunday dinner last night.

“ma! ya’ll heard us and ya’ll left me!?” lyric fake gasps and pretended to be hurt, a chuckle leaving her mouth.

“we’re sorry, baby girl. we just haven’t seen you so happy ever since—“ joseph added before lyric finished his sentence.

“omar?” lyric’s tone shifted from bright and jovial to monotonous and cold. there was now an uncomfortable beat of silence between the james’ family, crystal sending a glare to her husband before softening her brown eyes on her daughter. lyric broke it by clearing her throat.

“baby girl, i’m sorry—“

“it’s okay, dad. really. i—uh, i’ma go get ready. i can’t make us all be late, right?”

lyric awkwardly stood from her chair to wash the dishes she used before giving her parents an affectionate hug and goodbye, hurrying up to her bedroom to get the day started.

lyric sits on the stool at her vanity mirror dressed in a beige top with a sleeveless brown vest and matching cargo pants. around her neck she wears a silver military dog tag pendant and around her right wrist, lays a silver bracelet and the other, her black wrist watch. after the routine of adjusting her onyx tresses and enhancing her natural features with light makeup, she puts on her signature hoops to finish off the look. her fingertips leave a lingering touch when the needle pushes through the clasp. her chest gets heavy at the mention of omar’s name a few moments ago.

why the hell did he have to bring him up? wasn’t the reason us being here not to talk to about him? i can’t really be mad—i guess this change has cheered me up to some degree.

the comforting touch of noir’s paw tapping on the back of lyric’s leg awakens the girl out of her head and she gathers the furry bundle of mischief into her arms, pecking her head and stroking down her back. lyric simpers as the cat purrs at the touch and nuzzles her head under lyric’s chin in approval.

“you’re ‘bout to be on your own for a few hours. you better behave. don’t you do anything fast while i’m gone, you hear me, girl?” she playfully reprimanded and squats to release noir from her embrace. noir lets out a meow in response. lyric takes the sound as a yes, but knowing this feline, no promises are set in stone. her eyes peer down at the watch to read it’s a quarter till six. it was still dark, but she knew it would be a matter of time before the sun rose and she didn’t want to let clark down. with her black satchel carrying her camera and new lavender backpack with the required academic supplies, she headed down the stairs to see that her parents were about to depart to their workplaces. joseph places a house key in lyric’s palm, urging her to be responsible for it. the family exchanges the encouraging words of “have a great day and be safe. i love you.”, before they all go their separate ways.

lyric takes her walk to the kent house. the familiar path she’s treaded on a few times feels like the long bustling, sidewalks of her home, but there was no bustling. no horns honking. no people rudely bumping into your shoulder and getting mad at you because they weren’t looking where they going even though their head was down. it was only the quiet sounds of birds chirping and the creaking of the wooden stairs under lyric’s feet as she approached the front door of the kent household. her knuckles reach to knock on the door and she waits not ten seconds later to see the pleasant face of mrs. martha kent. the ladies greet each other with beaming smiles.

“good morning, lyric! how’re you this morning? please come in! why don’t you look pretty. i assume you’re ready for your first day at smallville high?” the older, auburn woman inquires as she steps aside to let the young girl enter her home.

“good morning and thank you, mrs. kent! i won’t front, i’m a bit nervous, but i’m excited for a fresh start! clark asked me if we could meet before the bus came to watch the sunrise. is he around? i hope i’m not too late. i don’t usually get up this early.” lyric chuckles as she clutches the strap of her bag and hikes it up onto her shoulder.

“oh, no, sweetie, you’re right on time! he’s over at the barn now waiting for you. before you go, how’s that cat of yours?” they both snicker, knowing about noir’s quirks. lyric assures that martha of noir’s wellbeing before she bids martha a goodbye and exits from where she came in. the girl roams the path to the barn not without spotting clark’s father, jonathan, up and tending to the livestock. she calls out for the man and waves to greet him a good morning which he positively reciprocates. after the friendly exchange, she’s already entering through the barn door. her feet taking her to ascend the wooden staircase before she calls out for the farm boy,

“yo, clark! are you in here?”

lyric reaches the top and goes around the corner to spot him near the open window, leaning forward on the sill with his bended elbows. clark’s head turns at the sound of her voice and instantly smiles at her timely arrival.

“good morning, lyric!”

lyric returns his greeting with her own grin before sauntering her way closer to take her position beside him at the window. her feet shuffles to give each of them space.

“good morning, clark. i hope i’m not too late.” she responds as she notices the sky about to change colors.

“nonsense! you’re just in time for it to start. you got your camera?”

“got it right here!” clark watched the girl as her hands ventured into the black satchel that she routinely held to reveal a black canon digital camera.

the teens both leaned on the sill. their eyes catching the horizon as the sun slowly, but surely ascends to take its place in the sky reflecting an iridescent, golden light mingling with the fading blue of the once midnight sky. each star disappeared with one ultraviolet ray at a time. with an awestruck countenance, lyric held the camera up to her right eye, adjusting the focus settings to capture every major and minor detail of this moment. lyric generally thought sunrises were beautiful from afar and went along her way, but seeing this up close? it was a treasure. this was something that was given to humans everyday, free of charge and she just couldn’t believe that she could take this for granted. one from her city couldn’t really enjoy the sunrise due to the hectic nature of getting on the train or due to the blockage of buildings that reach the clouds. lyric’s index finger pressed down on the button several times. she beamed when that metallic click reached her eardrums, a sound of her passion, her livelihood, and her emotions. clark’s blue eyes pulled away from the sunrise momentarily to gaze down at lyric because he could already hear the sound of heart thumping at a rapid pace that almost had him concerned for wellbeing, but that fear dissipated as he simply watched her work the camera at the desired angles. he marveled at the beautiful golden light reflecting off the melanated skin of her face and arms. the indention of her dimples protrude as the top row of her pearly whites rest atop her glossed bottom lip. he noticed the tiny sway of her dark hair dance with the small breeze of the morning wind. clark was impressed at her focus and drive to get a good shot of the sunrise. he realized that for lyric this wasn’t just hobby or a past time. it was her art form. her element. clark was so stuck in his trance of staring that even lyric noticed his pupils of blue scoping down at her figure. she halted her movements immediately and slowly let the camera down to her torso. embarrassed, she cleared her throat and stifled a giggle. lyric had an idea to break the silence and break the barriers of her craft.

“hey, clark—earth to clark!”

her voice knocked him out of his trance, his head shaking a bit with rose tinted cheeks of embarrassment for making his neighbor feel awkward. the farm boy cleared his own throat before stammering himself.

“uh—oh. um, sorry, lyric. were you saying something? i didn’t mean to stare for so long, it’s just the way you took a picture of that sunrise. you looked like you were in another world for a second. you seem to love photography, huh?” he questioned, shifting his posture and placing his hands within his pockets.

“it’s all good, clark. by the way you were watching, it looks like i wasn’t the only one in my own world.” the teens pause to chortle at her wit. lyric inwardly smirked as she picked up on that his cheeks flushed a shade of rose and a hint of nervousness in his laughter before she resumed the conversation and gazed at the memory holding device within her hands.

“yeah, i do, but it’s just a hobby. i just like to take photos of different places and things that give inspiration. to be real with you, i haven’t really taken pictures like this since my fr—uh, my family moved. i guess i owe you one for the spot. thank you!” clark received her dimpled grin of gratitude in which he returned with a lopsided smile of his own. he also couldn’t help, but have a gut feeling about her tone mentioning the move of her family from new york. it was filled with a twinge of hesitancy and—sadness? regret? being the empathetic guy that he was, he wanted to check to see if he said anything wrong. the “protecting the privacy” part of him wanted to respect that boundary, so that this connection wouldn’t be ruined.

“it’s no problem, lyric. what are good neighbors for? are you ready to head out to the bus stop? i don’t want to be the reason you miss your first day.” clark geared up for another school day by gathering his signature red backpack that toted the academic essentials.

“yeah! let’s go.” she replied, but then an idea came alive in her brain and she called out for his name, he responds by turning to face her and raises a brow to signal “yes?”. he didn’t want to rush her, but he didn’t want the two to get in trouble by making both of them late, not on her first day of all.

“do me a favor. put your bag down, stand near that wall, lean your back on it, and look at me. don’t move! i just wanna try something. i swear we won’t be late!” lyric pleads and sighs in relief when he does as he’s told and holds the pose before averting his gaze to lyric whose focusing her camera on his tall frame. within three seconds, he hears the familiar metallic clicking sound and once lyric gives him the green light, he returns to his original position and takes his belongings, she beckons him to her with a quick wave of her hand and a look of anticipation on her face.

“i’ve never really done a shot of another person like this, but the lighting was just perfect and i—well, just take a look for yourself, clark. what you think?”

lyric questioned, leaning the device close enough to clark for him to see the small screen that beheld the photo of him. he was thoroughly impressed by the shot! lyric wasn’t kidding when she said the lighting was right. the vibrant colors of the dark blue jacket mixed with his red plaid flannel against the tawny brown walls of the barn exuded that all american charm he possessed within himself. one could tell he worked on a farm as he noticed his skin looked slightly sun kissed. his onyx hair looked shinier and the shadow that casted on his face helped to sharpen his facial features such as the bridge of his nose and jawline. it was almost like something out of an issue of teen vogue.

“oh my god, lyric! you’ve really outdone yourself. i’m not normally a guy for photos, but this looks professional! thanks!” he beamed as his eyes couldn’t tear away from the photo.

“it’s no biggie. i just wanted to do something different. get out of my comfort zone type of thing.”

“lyric, you don’t understand. you could do local shots for people if you wanted. i’d think you’d go far with this if you think on it and do some more!”

“you think so?” lyric asks, tilting her head up for her eyes to meet his.

“i know so—i guess you could say i sparked the inspiration.” clark quips with that contagious charming smile of his that sort of makes lyric’s stomach tumble. she nervously laughs ands taps his arm with the back of her hand.

“yeah, yeah! when’d you get so humble? we better bounce before you make me late.” lyric walks towards the staircase with clark following behind. they rush to bid goodbye to his parents one last time before clark leads her to the bus stop. they wait in a comfortable silence for about five minutes before the long, yellow vehicle arrives in front of them. lyric’s stomach does a turn at hearing the whoosh of the long doors opening, awaiting their boarding. clark gives her a reassuring once over, indicating for her to follow his lead before his feet steps on to board and lyric follows as they make their way down the aisle. lyric felt a bit uneasy as she could tell a few eyes were on her as they walked to the empty seat that clark found across from an african american boy that smiled and greeted him. clark sat himself near the window, allowing lyric to sit on the outside to face the same boy across from them.

“hey! what’s up, clark—oh, and who is this?” his brown eyes glinted with delight as they laid on the new girl that was seated besides his best friend. smacking his teeth, clark playfully rolled his eyes at his friend’s antics.

“come on, pete! don’t scare her off. this is—“

lyric caught clark by surprise as she eased the awkwardness by giggling and introducing herself.

“it’s all good! he’s just trying to be friendly. my name’s lyric. lyric james, i’m clark’s new neighbor. my family and i moved from new york to smallville like, three days ago. i live next door, actually. it’s nice to meet you.” she amicably said and held out her hand for the boy which he eagerly took to shake.

“that’s cool! a new girl next door, huh? welcome to smallville. the name’s pete. pete ross. i’m clark’s best friend. i hope this means you’ll be sticking with us on your first day? hopefully a lot more than that.” pete responds, flashing a pearly white smile to work that ross charisma.

“easy, now but yeah! if it’s not too much trouble. so ya’ll have been tight for minute, right?” lyric chuckles and leans back against the seat before shifting her gaze between the boys.

“mm-hm. when i was little, i was getting pushed around by some jerk, but here comes clark kent, coming to my rescue. let me tell you, he pushed that kid so hard into the door, it literally broke into pieces! ever since then, he’s been my boy.” pete raves before reaching over to send a bashful clark a fist bump of gratitude.

“hey, i was just doing what i had to do to help someone who needed it. i think everyone deserves to be saved.” clark modestly chimed in.

lyric was amazed. that’s the second testimony she’s heard of clark’s courage to step in and save others. it kind of intrigued her how a small kid could push another so hard a whole door could break, but she brushed the thought away as three of them continued to chat throughout the ride to school. she’s learned that pete’s family was very well to do and a respected group of lawyers. his mother was even the judge! lyric found it to be a relief to have another acquaintance besides clark be someone of her culture because when it comes to small towns, there could be a lack of diversity sometimes. their conversation is cut short when the bus pulls in front of the tall, beige school building with the words SMALLVILLE HIGH SCHOOL imprinted on the top. a large, red banner is displayed above the front door, showcasing the crow as the mascot and encouraging the student body to “FLY TO VICTORY!” in golden letters. one by one, the students stood up to walk in a single file line to depart from the bus and make their way through the entrance.

after stopping by the front office to retrieve her class schedule, clark and pete take lyric on a brief tour through the school. they give an overview of the larger common areas such as the cafeteria, library, gym, and the auditorium in addition to the hallways where her different classes would be. lyric made sure for her brain to download every detail of each location the best she knew how. for her peace of mind, she shared one class with clark and another with pete. the trio make a quick stop at another room. it was spacious with technology such as computers and copy machines. a sign in bold red lettering read, “SMALLVILLE HIGH TORCH” along with a myriad of photos on the wall. lyric spotted a caucasian girl with a medium blonde bob that looked preoccupied typing away at the desktop computer. she assumed the girl was in charge of this room they were in. given she was the only one in there before they showed up.

“hey, chloe!” clark called out causing the girl to stop immediately what she was doing. she picked up what seemed to be a newspaper, her nose was deep in it as she followed the sound of clark’s voice, but didn’t notice that she was standing in front of lyric.

“hey, clark! look, i really need all hands on deck on this next story. do you think you could—“ chloe halted as her green eyes met lyric’s brown. her cheeks flushed with scarlet, embarrassed that she was in fact, not talking (directly) to clark. the girl shook her head at own mistake, chuckling before making a formal introduction.

“i am sooo sorry! you’ve probably already heard, but my name is chloe. chloe sullivan and you are?”

the girls reach out for each others hands to shake.

“i’m lyric james. i’m clark’s new neighbor. it’s nice to meet you, chloe! i dig the set up around here. what is this place?” lyric questions, her brown eyes perusing the room before landing on chloe’s enthusiastic face.

“well, first, i’d like to welcome you to smallville high and second, this is the torch! it’s basically like the school newspaper outlet. we put out things like current events and upcoming events, but this is all to get me ready to be a real journalist. one day you’ll see me out in metropolis working on the biggest headlines for the daily planet.” chloe spoke with an air of wit and confidence.

“you wanna see something, lyric? come and follow me.”

lyric looked to clark and pete after she saw chloe go farther back to another room. their faces shown to her that they already knew what the deal was before they all led her to the destination. it was a wall that was plastered with what seemed to be several newspaper clippings all pasted one on top and beside each other like a scrapbook. chloe stood beside the three and triumphantly gazed at it like a proud parent.

“i present to you my wall of weird. if you don’t know, there’s still remnants of the green meteor rocks from the fall of ‘89 and those rocks have certain—side effects on different people that give them these abilities that are literally out of this world. this wall contains every headline of incidents that those people were involved in ever since the shower. it’s amazing, really.” chloe walked up in front, her arms wide open presenting the evidence as it were a museum exhibit.

“you mean like superpowers?” lyric inquired, her arched brows raising in surprise. she couldn’t see behind her that clark was tensing at the mention of these bizarre incidents that occurred in their town. incidents that he and his friends were involved in to resolve on so many occasions. incidents that had him and some of the people he loved hurt and almost killed. he cut his eyes to chloe, warning her to shut it down, so lyric wouldn’t be freaked out considering she just moved here seventy two hours ago. chloe got the signal and cleared her throat before stammering,

“y-yeah—i know it’s a lot of heavy information about a place you just moved to. i’m gonna stop talking about it. you don’t probably don’t want to be late for—“

and just like that chloe was literally saved by the bell.

“class…say, how about we catch up later at lunch, you guys? again, it was great meeting you, lyric! i hope to see you more often.” chloe hastily says before rushing to gather her tote bag with her books and venture into the hallway, disappearing into the crowd of students. lyric was getting curious about the wall of weird.

how in the hell does one meteor shower change the course of these small town people that…drastically? it all may sound cool in a comic or a movie, but this was real life with real people who had real powers!

lyric’s eyes stared at the wall of photos, itching to find out who these people were, what abilities they had, and how they lived. her trance was broken when she felt a light tap on her shoulder. she turned around to still see pete and clark waiting for her.

“oh—my bad. did ya’ll say something?” she hated when she was caught zoning out. she awkwardly blinked as she twiddled her fingers.

“it’s no problem, lyric, but we’d be better get to english before we get a tardy. i’ll walk you there!” clark urges, giving her a once over to the door.

lyric gives a nod and one last lingering glance at the wall before the three of them exit the torch to walk to their respective classes in a timely manner. lyric and clark survived the fifty minutes of reading and analyzing a chapter of alexander dumas’ the count of monte cristo, a literary classic of getting your lick back. the perfect revenge. fortunately, they just started on the novel, so lyric didn’t have to play catch up. as lyric and clark walked in the hall between class periods, they talked about how fascinating it was with how the main character could be so influential, giving, trusting, and fair, but still had the people closest to him praying on his downfall. clark’s mind couldn’t help to wander that the character reminded him of his wealthy, but good friend, lex luthor. lex had the money, power, influence, resources, and compassion when it came to the citizens of smallville especially when it came to undoing the sins of his father, lionel, who at the same time was meticulously plotting in his son’s downfall, a devious ploy after another.

speaking of the citizens of smallville, clark felt time freeze when lana lang approached him. smallville’s local, yet tragic sweetheart. lyric’s eyes immediately caught notice of clark’s attention on the other girl. lyric couldn’t deny that she was gorgeous with her long, brown hair and almond hazel eyes. once she flashed her luminous smile, lyric could obviously see that clark was smitten by her. perhaps that was his girlfriend.

“hey, clark. long time, no see! i’m sorry if i haven’t been over to the loft as often, but things have been so hectic down at the talon. i can’t say i don’t miss those sunrises!” lana chuckles, nibbling on her bottom lip and glancing at the floor briefly her eyes shift to the girl that’s standing next to clark. lana’s brows raise at her presence and before she gets the chance to inquire, clark chimes in.

“hey, lana! no, no. you’re fine. i get that with running a business, you take care of well, business! just know that no matter what, you’re always welcome with open arms.”

clark’s known her ever since childhood. this was his first love. he practically sees her almost everyday, but when she comes around, his stomach ties in knots as does his tongue sometimes, but he keeps it together to keep on a decent conversation. there’s a beat of awkward silence that’s cleared by lana clearing her throat to ask her burning question.

“i’m sorry! i hope i didn’t seem rude. i don’t think i’ve seen you around here before. i’m lana lang. it’s nice to meet you.” she greets and gives lyric a cordial grin. lyric returns the favor in the same tone, her own friendly smile before introducing herself for the umpteenth time for the day.

“it’s no worries. i’m lyric james. i’m clark’s new neighbor. my family just moved here from new york.”

“new york? that’s awesome! i’ve always wanted to travel there one day. well, welcome to smallville. as a token of my welcome, i’d like for you to come over to the talon. it’s this café slash old movie theater that i run in town and your first caffeinated drink of your liking is on the house! i’m there pretty much all the time after school, so just swing by whenever.”

“you run own your business? that’s what up, lana! i’ll take you up on the offer if someone is willing to take me because i haven’t really seen smallville like that yet.” lyric responds and playfully cuts her eyes to clark briefly before resuming her conversation with lana.

“i’d love to come and thank you so much!”

“don’t mention it! now, you said you’re the kents new neighbors, so that means you live right next door, correct?” lana questions, quirking a brow. lyric attempts to answer, but clark takes it for her.

“yeah! i meant to introduce you guys. i guess i got a bit…sidetracked, but yes! lyric’s family actually lives in your old house, lana. it’s amazing how that all worked out.”

clark sheepishly adds to the conversation. okay, clark didn’t exactly tell lana that her old home had new occupants right away. between lana working, clark’s chores, and hanging out with lyric, one could say clark was indeed sidetracked. his stomach had that familiar drop when he saw lana’s face shift from content to confusion, her eyes start to squint as her brows furrow.

“wait—what? i thought when dean sold the house, that it was just off the market? i didn’t think anyone could—i just. you know what? it’s whatever. it’s not like it was really my house financially. nell and dean can do whatever they want. sometimes, i wish they’d give me a heads up on things like this. clark did you know about this? if so, how long?”

“lana, i’ve only known since friday. i was out in the loft the night they moved in. at first, i thought it was nell and dean, but i was wrong and i honestly thought you knew, but i didn’t want to bother with you juggling school and the talon.”

clark explained with as much accuracy as possible. he knew how much lana valued the truth. he knew how much she valued places and objects that connected her to her family. lana closed her eyes, inhaling and exhaling. she couldn’t really be frustrated towards clark per say, how could he have seen this coming? the last thing lana needed was another unnecessary rift between her and clark over something that was out of anyone’s hands.

“it’s no issue, clark. i’m sorry for getting so riled up. there was nothing any of us could do. what’s done is done! and lyric, i apologize that you had to see that. i know that didn’t make a great first impression!” lana remorsefully utters, placing a hand on her chest.

“don’t worry, lana. how about we just start over and talk it out later at the talon? i think after today, a cappuccino would do us all some good. i’m sure clark would be willing to lead the way!” the teens all chuckle and nod in agreement of their plans for the evening before lana bids them both a goodbye and disappears in the crowded hallway. lyric’s smile drops, her body turning to make full eye contact with clark and her arms crossed to size him up.

“so you weren’t gonna tell me i moved in the house of your girlfriend? don’t you think that would be a little suspicious? i just got here and the last thing i need is some drama, clark. if there’s something i gotta know, you better tell me right now.” an irked lyric fired at the boy with furrowed brows, but not too loud to not draw attention.

“i’m sorry, lyric, i did mean what i said to lana. she has been busy and that was the last thing i think she needed on her plate. also, i was helping to make sure that you felt at home considering how we first met. you seemed stressed, worried, and this morning i noticed you were a bit sad when you talked about not taking pictures in a while. i won’t pry, but it upsets me when i see people that i know and care about in distress. whether it’d be my parents or my friends. i always feel the need to help even though it sometimes it results in those getting hurt. talk about having the right motives and doing the wrong things.” as each word spilled from clark’s lips, the gears in lyric’s brain began to turn with realization setting in.

he noticed that i was sad? he wants to make me feel at home? he sees me as someone he knows and cares about? he sees me as a friend?

lyric shoulders relax and her arms drop to her side. a strand of dark hair falls in front of her face and her hand sweeps it behind her ear, buying her time to conjure up a response to his plea.

“i—clark. um, thank you for telling me that. look, i’m sorry for pressing you like that. since we’re gonna be honest, i won’t lie when i say that i can see you as someone that i care about too. i didn’t want to pressure you into saying we were instantly friends because i didn’t want to scare you off, you know? we just met, but like i said before, there’s something about you, something good, so i can’t trip because it wasn’t your intention to hurt anybody, but if we’re gonna be friends, let’s both try our best to keep it real with each other, you got it?” her brown eyes gaze up into his blue ones with expectancy.

“i got it, lyric.” they exchange a small smile of understanding and establishment of their official friendship as they move on about their day, fulfilling the next few hours of learning until the ring of the final bell signals the students of smallville high of their dismissal. as lyric walked with her new circle out of the school, it didn’t take long for her personality to instantly click within the group. she hadn’t felt this sense of community and belonging in months. at lunch, chloe was kind enough to let the other three carpool with her to the talon within the next few hours to hang out and study. lyric was down for it, but she had to let at least one of parents know before going out. while waiting for their bus to arrive, clark and lyric stood against the wired fence. he wanted to do a quick check in on her after some of the encounters that she had on her official first day.

“lyric?”

“yeah, clark?”

“what did you think about today? about everything?”

“well, i’ll say that it’s the most interesting first day of school i’ve had since kindergarten.” she responds with a chortle.

“anything in particular that made it interesting?”

“the torch was dope. i really want to learn more about the wall of weird, so there’s really people in this town—this itty bitty town, that had superpowers because of fallen green rocks?”

“welcome to smallville.” he quips with a lopsided smile and shrug of his shoulders.

“damn. well i know i would never fall into that trap of being up on that wall. it sounds like having powers would be so…much. like, it sounds cool, but you can’t play around with that. you know what i’m saying, clark?”

he pauses knowing full well that he understands such a predicament. she’s not exactly wrong, but there’s something else i need to know.

“i know what you’re saying. say, i want to know your opinion—would you think a person with those abilities has the potential to be helpful to others? you know, like a superhero?”

clark’s eyes intently searched her face as she looked to be in thought before answering with the nod of her head.

“oh, yeah! definitely. i wouldn’t personally want that life for me, but for someone else who wants to use it with the intention of making a positive difference, i’d say they go for it! if you’re gonna have any type of power, you’d want it to do some good.”

her enthusiastic tone gave clark a bit of hope and…warmth. the only people who know of his abilities are pete and his parents. they’ve always reassured that clark was great the way he is despite the burden, but he can’t help, but to feel deep down that he was an outcast, a freak of nature. he was an alien for god’s sake and that’s all he knows, but for some odd reason, lyric’s response didn’t make him feel like a freak. more so like a hero, a person. as he saw the bus arrive, he had to clear the air on one more thing while they still had their privacy.

“by the way, lana’s not my girlfriend. she’s just—a really good friend.”

lyric arched a brow in surprise at the boy and a chortle vibrated in her chest.

“oh, for real? by the way you were looking at her in the hallway, i certainly couldn’t tell. clark, it’s so obvious you like her. i don’t blame you she’s sweet, beautiful, intelligent, and independent. i don’t see what’s stopping you.”

“i just don’t want to ruin what we already have. our friendship is very important to me. i’ve basically known her all my life.”

“well, i won’t fight you on that. at the end of the day, it’s your go. now, let’s go before they leave us behind!” she waved him over as they followed their group to the assigned vehicle. after her, clark, and pete boarded the bus, the teens talked, laughed and griped about the day they’ve had. at that moment, lyric knew that smallville would become more bearable due to the aid of her new friends by her side. the bus makes the stop in front of kent farm. clark offered to walk lyric home as she wanted to go and check on noir before they meet up later before chloe arrives. lyric accepts because even though she could walk on her own, she thought it would be awesome to see the look on clark’s face of her token of her appreciation for him helping her out on her first day. they take the brisk walk to her house and clark seems reluctant to step inside her house without knowing if it was okay with her parents.

“are you absolutely sure that i can come in lyric?” clark questioned, a look of uncertainty in his eyes meet lyric’s nonchalant expression.

“don’t trip, kent. you know my parents like you enough. plus, one of them won’t be home until two more hours and this will be quick. have a little faith!” she chuckles and takes out the key joseph entrusted her with, turning the lock, and opening the door. she invites clark into the living room and asks if he needed anything like a snack or drink which he politely declines. his ears perk up at the familiar sound of paws lightly trodding across the floor. simultaneous grins spread across the teens faces when noir enters the room, a soft mewl echoes in the room when her eyes of yellow green lay on her owner and the farm boy that spoiled her days ago. she walks past lyric as if she were a stranger and instantly nuzzles her fuzzy, black body against clark’s leg. he doesn’t hesitate to set his backpack aside and gather her within his arms, a large palm stroking down her spine.

“well, hey, noir! it’s so good to see you, girl.”

lyric’s heart swelled as room is filled with purrs of contentment, but she can’t help but feel a bit jealous at how quickly her cat of three years switched up for clark, who’s she’s known for three days.

“mmcht, you little traitor.” lyric teasingly sniped, crossing her arms.

“aw, come on, lyric! don’t be like that.”

“don’t be like what, clark? it’s not like i gave her food, shelter, love, and care. a damn shame, my baby girl dissed me.” she replies with a feigned tone of hurt, causing the teens to burst out in laughter.

“i’m glad she’s keeping you company because i need to you sit right there on the couch, clark. i got something for you. i’ll be a minute.” lyric urges before gathering her things and running upstairs to her bedroom. she sets her backpack on her bed and reaches into the black satchel containing the camera. once she takes it out, she steps towards her desk with her computer and takes her seat to power on the device. she swiftly connected her digital camera to her computer, the soft whir indicating it was properly functioning. a cheesy, dimpled smile couldn’t leave her face as the preview screen lit up, revealing the candid shot of clark leaning against the barn wall. the same she took one after the sunrise. the very first close to professional looking photo that she captured of another person. after a messing around with the settings, she moved the cursor to hit the “upload” button. what seemed to be a sixty minute transfer felt like an hour before the picture appeared on her screen. lyric double checked to make sure everything was perfect before sending it to print. she made the trip from her bedroom to the home office where the main printer was located and the photo was slowly whirring from it as she walked in. it came out face down until she gingerly took it out and went out into the hallway to stand in front of the staircase. she could hear clark’s melodic chuckles in the distance mixing with the jovial purrs and meows of her cat.

lyric turned the photo around to be face to face with clark. the picture felt almost like a new connection—something precious between new friends. still, she couldn’t help but to stare. there was something about those baby blue eyes, his dark jungle of curls, and that humble charm of his that made her stomach tumble again. she shook her head, chiding herself.

what the hell? why am i acting like i haven’t seen a cute dude before? i see them in magazines and movies all the time, so why i do feel so weird when it comes to clark? he’s great and all, but we still only known each other for three days.

they just established their friendship today, and her thoughts went back to lana lang. the girl who she assumed was already his girlfriend because he shined like the sun by just seeing her smile. the girl he’s known and obviously loved his whole life.

“ugh.” lyric groaned softly, feeling the heat of embarrassment creep up her brown cheeks. she glanced one last time at clark’s picture and she shook her head in disbelief.

you can think a boy is cute and still be friends, right? right.

lyric fixed her face and went downstairs to the living room to find clark with a snoozing noir sprawled on her back across his lap, his large hand gently rubbing her belly. his head is down for a moment, but thanks to his heightened hearing, he knew of lyric’s arrival when he heard the creak of the hardwood steps with each movement of her feet.

“we’re glad to have you back.” he genuinely simpered at her presence and spoke at a volume good enough for lyric to hear, but not to wake the sleeping feline. there was that tumble in her stomach again she shook it off, using her wit to mask her nervousness.

“from what i heard upstairs, it sounds like ya’ll didn’t miss me a lick, but this is for you. it’s not much, but it’s a thank you for everything.” she quipped with a grin and walked closer to sit beside him in the couch and handed him the printed copy of his photo from this morning.

“oh, lyric, you didn’t have to—thank you!” he wasn’t sure if she noticed that his fingers slightly brushed against hers as he took the photo. he examined with the same impressed expression that he had early this morning, his pearly white canines exposed.

“it looks even better on paper! no one’s really done something like this for me before. i can say that you’ve outdone yourself, lyric james.” clark commended with his face turning to hers.

“why i appreciate the compliment, clark kent. it was my pleasure.” lyric playfully bowed and the two softly chuckled before their eyes meet again. they absentmindedly stare at each other for a moment. a thread of unspoken words between them with each second passing by. now, she was starting to feel awkward, she cleared her throat to break the silence.

“i really want you to keep that, you know. as a token of my appreciation and a reminder of our friendship.”

“you can count on me to take care of it, lyric. not to sound cocky, but i really like this picture. it’s so good, it deserves a frame. you knows i might i refer to you for my senior photos. better yet, we can be a reporter and photographer duo for the daily planet after graduation—that’s hopefully if you stay. i’m sorry i got too ahead of myself for a minute!” clark who was now red in the face, bashfully chuckled as he rubbed the back of his neck.

why am i already talking about our—i mean the future with her? i need to slow down before i scare her off, but who could deny that would be cool? if she continues with her photography, she can make it as a living!

lyric giggles and places a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“easy, clark. i’m not planning on going anywhere anytime soon. that reminds me, i hate to kick you out, but i gotta freshen up and give my parents the 411 before we meet chloe at your place to study at the talon tonight. i’ll be at your place in a good hour, okay?” the girl helps him by gently picking up noir from his lap and cradling her in her arms. clark agrees with understanding and gathers his belongings, the photo still in his hand.

“yeah, of course! don’t forget to bring your copy of the book from english class. i’ll see you later, lyric!”

lyric walks him to the front door and opens it for him to walk out on the porch. she watches him walk down the steps and before he makes his way down the path, he stops to turn around to give her one last smile and wave which reciprocates. clark watches her shut the door before he resumes his trip back to kent farm. with each step he takes on the way home, he takes a glance at the gift of his new friend and with each glance, his eyes linger longer, his smile wider, and his spirits, higher.

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world0fmadness · 3 months ago

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FAR AWAY

pelle “ dead ” ohlin x reader x ( platonic! ) oc daughter

♡ general headcanons for pelle as a girl dad!

୨୧ you guys are not helping my baby fever at all but it’s okay, i hope you like this anon! i’ll probably do headcanons for how he was during the pregnancy later down the line <3

♡ requested by anon | related hc available here, here and here | view my metal masterlist here

reading music recommendations: sketches by daniel lanois - far away by jose gonzalez

♡ pelle definitely tries his absolute best to be a good father for his little girl!

୨୧ he softens quite a lot when she’s born, his walls crumble and he opens his heart to someone other than you for the first time

♡ he stops self harming all together, he has to be okay for you and his little girl now

୨୧ he just can’t imagine leaving you and his little girl alone, how his baby would feel after his death and so on, it really fucks him up thinking about it :(

♡ he still has the same attitude when it comes to everyone else in his life but his friends can see how different he is around you and your daughter!

୨୧ his eyes soften along with his voice, always being more at peace when in you and your daughters presence

♡ whenever you guys are at family gatherings and such, pelle and your daughter really just stay to themselves!

୨୧ he’ll be sitting on a couch or bench holding her in his lap whilst you talk to family, gently bouncing his knee whilst she giggles and fiddles with his hair, talking his ear off about every topic under the sun as he nods his head, listening intently to what she’s telling him

♡ every now and again he’ll lower his face down to her ear and quietly ask if she wants any food or maybe a drink

“ y’want a drink or something, honey? c’mon, let’s go grab you a juice box, hm? ” ( if a family member approaches them and attempts conversation with him and your daughter, she gets so shy and immediately goes quiet, hiding her face in his neck as he gently pats her back )

୨୧ if she does want a drink, he’ll carry her with him to go and grab her a juice box! holding it for her as she takes sips from the plastic straw

♡ she’s super similar to him when it comes to personality and interests, she’s kind of shy and reserved, only talking super openly with you and pelle

୨୧ whenever someone else approaches her, no matter who it is, wether it be a stranger or family member or friend, she’ll quickly hide herself behind pelle’s long legs whilst just barely peeking her head around and eyeing them with a curious but cautious look in her eyes

♡ i think pelle would really baby her quite a bit, in his own way!

୨୧ he’s just so scared of her growing up too fast and doesn’t want her to go through what he did :(

♡ pelle would ABSOLUTELY get her a little denim jacket and a bunch of metal patches and button pins to go on it…

୨୧ honestly, her whole closet is a lot of denim stuff he customised for her and metal t-shirts bought in the smallest size and purposely shrunk in the wash by you guys so that they would fit her better

♡ when you were still pregnant with her, pelle made a little mobile out of animal bones to go in her nursery!

୨୧ you were definitely a little apprehensive about putting it above her crib but he was so proud of it, you could see it in his eyes and the way he had a small smile on his face when showing it off to you and explaining why he made it

“ thought it’d be unique… pretty beautiful too, no? you don’t have to put it in her nursery if you don’t want to… ” ( he’s mumbling and keeping his eyes on the mobile, away from you, as if afraid of judgment, as you smile softly up at him from your spot on the couch )

♡ you could never say no to a smiling and happy pelle plus the bone mobile was kind of cute! you just made sure they were extremely clean and well sanitised before hanging it up

୨୧ i can see his daughter having a MAJOR sweet tooth!

♡ and as much as pelle wants to make sure she’s the most healthy she can be, he can never say no to her when she looks up at him with those big blue eyes that mirror his and a small pout on her lips

୨୧ so he often keeps some candy in the back pocket of his jeans for her, usually some traditional swedish candy that he used to eat as a child <3

♡ surprisingly, you end up having to be the “ mean ” parent and making sure she doesn’t get cavities or anything

୨୧ it’s surprising because most people look at pelle and think he probably hates children and dislikes being a father just as much, he has to be the super strict, mean parent right?

♡ and he does hate children, just not his own! he could never hate his own little girl, you and her and the only things he’s ever been thankful for in his life, the only thing he wants to keep safe and treasure forever

୨୧ pelle is seriously so quick to crumble when it comes to her, he probably tries to be strict and not let himself fall for her puppy dog eyes but it never works…

♡ most people would probably assume a toddler would get freaked out and scared of a tall, lanky man in corpse paint but not your daughter! whenever she sees her father all dressed up for a concert or something, she just looks up at him with a look of wonder in her big doe eyes and her plushie hanging limply from her hand

୨୧ the first time he ever did her corpse paint was on her own demand! he had kneeled down to her after catching her staring and quietly asked if she wanted him to do hers to which she quickly nodded, two small blonde pigtails bouncing gently to the movement, before bolting off into your shared bedroom and climbing onto the seat at your vanity as pelle slowly walked in behind her with a small, amused grin on his face

“ y’want me to paint your face, honey? yeah? okay… come on ” ( the second he told her to come on, she was already half way down the hallway, leaving him in the dust as you laughed )

♡ he paints her corpse paint the exact same as his, making her look like a little double of him, just with a much bigger smile and a whole lot shorter

୨୧ you beg him to take so many pictures of them together in corpse paint! i mean, it’s just too cute not to document

♡ pelle always tries to wear long sleeved shirts or a jacket around her! he just really doesn’t want her seeing his old self harm scars and getting scared or trying to replicate them because she doesn’t fully know what they are :(

୨୧ obviously he couldn’t hide them forever though and she found them one day when she was a little older than a toddler, tilting her head down at them and scrunching her nose up before simply asking what happened

♡ he doesn’t tell her the full story, of course not! he tells her a little tiny, more child friendly story about how he got them and thankfully, that’s enough to quell her curiosity…

୨୧ pelle has a whole sketchbook dedicated to sketches of her now too!

♡ he adores drawing you guys together and her on her own, trying to put her beauty on paper the best he can! he’s so secretly excited when she shows an interest in art too, always teaching her how to draw when she asks, guiding her pencil with his hand

୨୧ when she’s a toddler and has some trouble sleeping on her own due to nightmares, you guys would let her sleep in between you and pelle in your shared bed!

♡ he still might not be the biggest fan of physical touch and cuddling but he definitely softened to it when she was born and has no problem letting her cuddle up into his side whilst he throws an arm over her and strokes her hair if it means she’ll get a better sleep <3

#requested ✩#pelle ohlin x reader #dead x reader #mayhem x reader #mayhem headcanons #lords of chaos x reader #lords of chaos headcanons #loc x reader #loc headcanons #fluff headcanons #headcanons

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slippinninque · 8 months ago

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✨💕Slips' List 💕✨

Hello! Welcome to my master list!

(updated 11/07/24)

About me: Ya'll can call me Slips! I love to write and can be a bit slow at posting, so please be patient with me! I write with black, fem women in mind as the reader.

Current Inspo: Fontaine (They Cloned Tyrone), Jatemme Manning (Widows)

Thinking of: Shigeru Kimura (Bullet Train), Koji Shimazu (John Wick 4), Oj Haywood (Nope), Kratos (GOW)

Requests: OPEN! (please be patient with me, I am a bit of a slow writer lol)

Things to keep in mind: MINORS DNI, Be Nice, and Be Responsible For Your Own Consumption. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted here or onto any other platform. I do not give permission for my work to be use for any AI learning/purposes. Also, please feel free to reblog and comment--I would love to know what you think!

✨Works / Blurbs✨

Fontaine, Seduced

Fontaine Fluff

Mwuah (Fontaine fic)

The Bad Day (Fontaine Fic)

Fontaine Likes Pretty Things

You (Learned To) Like Pretty Things, Too

Pillow Time (Fontaine fic)

Sleepy Snap Shots (Fontaine fic)

Fontaine Likes to Wrestle

A Lil'Bit Special (Fontaine fic)

Fontaine The Handy Man

Winter with Fontaine

Riding With Fontaine

Supportive 'Taine

'Taine loves Love

Fontaine x Rainy Day

Fontaine Unleashes His Inner Ramsey

Bear Hug (chester fic)

Fontaine, Sunned

Fontaine Thinks You're Beautiful

Fontaine vs Usher

Now & Later (Fontaine fic)

A Different Perspective (Fontaine fic)

Kiss Me Through The Phone (Fontaine fic)

Private Dancer (Fontaine fic)

Sweet Tooth (Fontaine fic)

Special Directives (Lloyd Hansen fic)

Cruisin' (Fontaine fic)

Pendulum (Fontaine fic)

Fussy (Fontaine fic)

Red Handed (Jatemme Manning fic)

Skimming(Jatemme Manning fic)

Just A Lil' Fun (Fontaine fic)

Home Makin' (Jatemme Manning fic)

Tanoshi Yoru (Koji Shimazu fic)

Songbird's Blues (Shigeru Kimura)

You admit your crush (Fontaine fic)

The Power of Patience (Shigeru Kimura fic)

The Sudden Goodbye (Koji Shimazu fic)

Nosey (Jatemme Manning fic)

Never Far Behind (Koji Shimazu fic)

Jatemme x Small Falls Surprise

💕Asks💕

Loan x Tommy (OC fic)

Spinning The Block

Some Place Warm (Fontaine fic)

Taquiner (Fontaine fic)

"how would Fontaine react to his girl’s’ pregnancy glow?"

how Fontaine would be while in love

Jealous Fontaine

Ain't No Sunshine When She's Gone (Fontaine fic)

TLC (Fontaine fic)

Fontaine Admits His Crush

#Slippinninque Masterlist #Slips'List #They Cloned Tyrone #Black Fic Writer List #Black Creative Writer #SlipsWriting #x black reader #Fontaine #Chester #Widows #Jatemme Manning #Koji Shimazu #john wick #Shigeru Kimura #Bullet Train #x blackfemreader #black fic writer #black creative writer #Masterlist

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borathae · 1 year ago

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↳ Index [Snippet #40 - Annoying]

"When Jungkook acts like the annoying idiot you fell in love with."

Genre: married life!AU, Fluff

Warnings: Kookie being annoying and cute <33, a summer holiday, our queen OC suffers from holiday indigestion rip to her, she describes her poop to him in vivid detail, listen!! they’re married and in love and the intimacy they share makes me weak

Wordcount: 1.2k

a/n: i had this thought that "dookie" would be actually a really cute (and annoying<3) nickname. And i think that out of all my bois, ogc!koo is the best candidate for such a nickname. So here we are, enjoy this cute lil fluff piece 🧡

Your husband is where you left him. He is lounging on the sun bed under the shadow of the straw umbrella, wearing nothing more than black swimming shorts and a pair of dark sunglasses perched atop his nose. The only jewelry he wears is his wedding ring, his piercings and a small fake shark tooth pendant on a leather string, which you both got from the street vendor in front of the hotel. He is currently on his phone, moving his foot in a mindless rhythm.

You and he went on a vacation together. Very far away from home. So far in fact, that you had to take a plane to get there. And it was the best decision ever. The beaches are beautiful, the ocean is clean and has just the right temperature and the hotel is gorgeous. Food is amazing as well, but there was one problem with that. You haven’t been able to take a shit ever since you started this holiday and this was five days ago. You can barely fit any more food inside, your stomach has been hard from everything collecting in there and you have been suffering from a strong tummy ache for two days already, but no matter what you did, you just couldn’t get your body to work. Jungkook had less problems this way. This complete traitor already went to the toilet three times. Unlike you, who still hasn’t been able to go.

That is until today when the sudden urge to poop overcame you as you and Jungkook enjoyed piña coladas by the ocean. You abandoned Jungkook by the beach and ran to get back to your room.

Now, almost an hour later you are back.

Jungkook turns his head to you when he feels your presence. He lowers his phone.

“And? What’s the status?” he asks.

You lie down on the sun bed next to him, letting out a long sigh.

“I did it.”

“Yaaay, let’s go”, Jungkook cheers quietly, throwing his fists in the air in tiny motions, “no more tummy aches for you.”

“Yeah, I guess but I can’t be happy yet.”

“Why? That bad?”

“It was a warzone. You have no idea what I’ve just been through. I have PTSD just thinking about it. I had the sweats and everything, even had to take off my clothes and I kept gripping the edge of the sink and even had to put my feet up higher. I stacked like three toilet rolls for that.”

“Damn.”

“And it smelled so bad. You have no idea, I stank up the entire room so bad that I had to leave the windows open when I left.”

“Oh no, that bad?”

“Yeah, that bad. I was constipated at first until it shot outta me like a torpedo and I thought it was over until I got a tummy cramp and then I started to explosive diarrhea everywhere.”

“Ooh damn okay that sounds traumatic.”

“It was traumatic. My ass hurts and I still feel dirty even though I took a shower. With two rounds of soap. But I had to do it in like my own toxic shit fumes and I think they’re burned into my nostril hairs because I can still smell it.”

Jungkook cracks up.

“Awww baby, you’re my little stinker now”, he teases, nudging your arm playfully, “my little stinkbug.”

“No, stop, don’t call me that”, you whine, “it’s already embarrassing enough.”

“Don’t be embarrassed, my stinkbug. It’s only natural to shit.”

“I told you not to call me that”, you get out under your breath, hitting his thigh gently, “what if someone hears you?”

Jungkook snickers, “and it’s okay for you to describe your traumatising shit to me in vivid detail?”

“Yeah, ‘cause I did it quietly. I know you, you’re just gonna call me stinker for the rest of the day and that’s embarrassing.”

Jungkook snickers, “I think it’s cute. My little stinker”, he says and leans over to smooch your cheek.

“Shut up, you’re so annoying”, you mumble, nudging his chest.

“Mhm and you married me, so you love it.”

You roll your eyes at him, letting out a small chuckle.

“You’re annoying”, you say fondly and rest back on the sun bed.

“I’m happy for you though”, Jungkook says, caressing your tummy gently, “I was suffering with you. Holiday indigestions are the worst.”

“Yeah, I’m happy too. Traumatised but happy.”

He chuckles, squeezing your thigh. You laugh, patting his hand.

“Hey, my stinker?” Jungkook asks then.

“Urgh, shut up. What?”

“Can you lotion up my back? I wanna go for a swim, but I’m scared to burn”, Jungkook asks as he already turns his back to you.

“Yeah, of course”, you say, sitting up so you can comfortably reach his back. You own one of those sunscreens which comes in a spray bottle. You spray it directly onto Jungkook’s back, earning yourself a loud yelp of shock from him.

“This is so cold. No. Don’t do that”, he whines, trying to writhe away which only makes you spray more cream onto his back.

“It’s what you get for calling me stinker”, you say with a shiteating grin on your lips.

“Wah, you’re so mean”, he says, making you chuckle.

You place the bottle aside and connect your hands with his back to spread the sunscreen evenly. His body is very clearly warmed up from the summer heat, his back feels hot under your palms. You are sure that a swim in the cool water will do him good.

“Make sure to get the tattoos”, he says.

“I am”, you promise him, “don’t worry.”

“Thanks, stinky.”

“Do. Not.”

You pinch his sides, making him squeak and writhe away.

“Don’t call me that.”

You tickle him again, forcing him to laugh and fight you off with his hands.

“Stinky, please.”

“Don’t call me that”, you warn as laughter escapes you and your fingers squeeze his ticklish waist even harder.

“Sorry fine sorry, I yield”, he gives up, twisting around so he is facing you, “you win, don’t tickle me”, he laughs, pushing your hands away gently.

You grin in triumph, “good.”

Then you reach for the face sunscreen, opening it.

“Good idea”, Jungkook says, closing his eyes in anticipation.

You spread an even layer of sunscreen on his face and neck, making sure to get his ears as well. The remnants of the sunscreen, you spread on his shoulders.

“Do you need it reapplied on your arms as well?” you ask him.

“No, I managed to get everything else. It was just the back I struggled with.”

“Okay, then you’re good to go.”

“Thanks, sweetheart”, he says and gets up, “do you wanna join me?”

“No thank you”, you let out in a breathy laugh, shaking your head, “I still need to recover.”

“Okay. See you later, my dookie”, he says and grins.

“Jungkook”, you gasp, gawking at him with widened eyes.

Jungkook laughs and turns to jog down to the water with snickers of mischief leaving him.

“You’re annoying!” you call after him with your eyes racing over the other people to see if somebody had heard him. It seems that nobody did. You are simply yet another couple teasing each other lovingly in a sea of strangers.

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themareverine · 11 days ago

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MARE & THE WOLVERINE ▹ Good Poison

─ Logan Howlett x fem!OC

summary: The Northern Territories were the last place Mare McAffery ever imagined herself, much less a prize fighting bar with characters the likes of the one they call the Wolverine. A logging community and living out of a Motel 6—it wasn’t exactly Shakespearean. But sometimes, survival calls for a tooth and nail fight—even for a preacher’s daughter.

warnings: AU, age gap, strangers to friends, friends to lovers, eventual romance, violence, angst, trauma, religion, self-insert, self-esteem issues, chance meetings, alcohol, grief/morning, mutual pining, falling in love, slow-ish burn, fluff and angst, canon-typical violence, virginity, reposted from my old account.

MASTERLIST| NAVIGATION | NEXT | PREVIOUS

“I’ve never met a more obsessive, religiously fanatical, irresponsible press professional in my entire career, McAffery—and I’ve been doing this thirty fucking years!”

“Told you to drop that mutant BS, McAffery—”

Blue light from her phone lights up the shadowed seat beside her, interrupting the cruel sting of thoughts lapping her brain like a pace car. Redlined and leading, her attention briefly drifts from the yellow lines of highway to the bright screen that lingers—to the text bubble with the little avatar face of who else but her mother, checking in on her for only the fiftieth time tonight.

“I’m fine, ma,” she sighs to empty space around her. A glance upward through the windshield to the night sky canvases unfamiliar constellations, stars she’s never seen this far north. Living north all her life had prepared her for a lot of, well, Canada— but not the stars. There seemed to be more of them, dancing in troops that quickened the soul. They’d been hanging in the sky for hours, now, and every time her gaze flicked up—never saw the same cluster.

Diiiing. The sound avalanches in the cab, almost. “Jeez, I’m fine, ” it’s more of a growl than anything as she reaches for the phone. Silences it. Practically tossing it to the cup holder, she shifts a little further against her seat, her ass into the three decade-old cushion just like she’d been doing for two days. Shoulders pressing back into the material of her seatback, a slight shiver races up her spine where frigid air snakes into the cab of the Jeep between gaps in soft-top canvas—irritates the hunger that’s been low simmering in her stomach since before the sun had disappeared.

A quick GPS consult and civilization is less than ten miles on her course. It promises a bar, a Motel 6, some gas. Nothing fancy. Reading in-between trying to stay between yellow highway lines reveals that Laughlin City is a logging community, one of those let’s-film-a-cheesy-Hallmark-romance little sports that show up in romantic novels and on travel blogs. It’s quiet with a limited population, mountainside and traditional. Perfect.

Starting route to Laughlin City, you’re on the fastest route—-

“Considering I don’t see any freeways, I guess that tracks,” Frick, I’m turning into my mother talking to myself— and she had been, for two days. But that’s probably fine, better to keep herself company in the off-hours of radio. She couldn’t bear any more talk radio, didn’t have the caffeine or the patience to relive the same Shania Twain cassette tape for a twentieth time.

Sighing, her head kicks back a little against the hard headrest behind her. Brightness from the GPS route is white-hot and blinding, has Mare McAffery turning her phone screen down to the fading 90s-print material of the passenger seat. She can see the little cloud from the hard breath she lets escape from between her lips, which subliminally raises the air on her arms. Sends a stab of cold through the bones in her hands. Even with air bursting from the defrost, it’s cold. Colder here, farther north, than her family’s quiet little farmland Minnesota home for this time of year—a t-shirt had felt like a good idea this morning at the truck stop. Splashing water on her face and smiling into sunshine.

Her eyes drift to the dash clock as a hand reaches behind her to grope for the hoodie she’d abandoned. A little after 11—her time. Back home. Mare has no idea what time it is in Canada, under foreign stars and among unknown mountains. Though, really it doesn’t matter—time is a construct when you’re on the road. When you don’t really have anywhere to be in all that much of a hurry, when you’re getting out of Dodge and rethinking every strategic decision of your life.

God, what am I doing? Where are You in this? And the thought is random. Had been, for days. Quitting her job on the spot three weeks ago had felt like the move of the century, like a Neil Armstrong one-giant-leap-for-mankind on the moon type of deal. Once in a lifetime, defining. Must’ve been what the fathers of her nation felt, rising up to slay the Goliath oppressing them into submission—she’d bucked the power of corporate America, felt the sting of her whip for a final count.

There’d never been more peace, more purpose about her life than in that moment, smiling down her nose at her boss. Knowing she’d left him in the lurch, had upset his canoe. Upstream without a paddle, take that you scumsucking piece of trash. Her guts had nearly risen up to her throat with the flood of pure adrenaline. Bolstered, like a shooting star— all hot and undiscerning strength. Every disgruntled employee in the history of the working class before her, caged within her bones. Finding justice in this one act, this flight. High flying and empowered, she’d crashed through the glass ceiling—unscathed, unravished. Free.

Or so she prayed.

Reality rose up to strike her like plague, chastened and vengeful. Leaving behind ghosts and midnight phantoms to haunt her even in sleep, her fears. Disease eating away at the flesh of her life, an insatiable predator unrelenting until satisfied. Picking its teeth with the bones of her future, the unknown. Grinning at her like a subtle, close-to-the-chest demon of her own making. Tapestry of her life began to unravel, unfurled by her own bravada, her own shield of faith in the unknown. Days bled eternally into weeks. Networking spiderwebbed away in the wind, disheveled and thin. Nothing aside from Oh-honey-I’m sorry’s and though-your-qualifications-are-impressive-we-regret’ s.

Word traveled fast in rocks and cows country, not-the-Twin-Cities Minnesota. Whoever didn’t look on her with sympathy dug her grave, or threw dirt on open wounds festering with her own shame. Nobody was eager to onboard the bloodhound trailblazing young lady with starry eyes and Superman hope.

Singlehandedly she’d brought coverage of the community’s less-than-human population to hometown families and cropfarmers, faces nobody in her world desired. They’d kept the mutants at arm’s length, in the city and away from the grass that dances on the prairie; innocence of country living. Nobody wanted them in their ZIP code, their school districts—accidents raised taxes. No mayor wanted to address the subject at press conferences or on small city councils, no school board wanted funding for safe rooms or SPED. Better to lock them away in the concrete jungle of downtown, anonymous faces in a sea crying out for representation.

Disarming a population’s ignorance had been a savage fight—soul crushing and abusive. Her head had been piked in every town-gossip-over-coffee table in the entire township, her family’s name raked over the coals in the editorials. Recklessly brave, but the greater good had come at a high, not-so-good price. Expensive for an under-thirty young little thing with bright aspirations, with a family standing behind her as pillars in a crumbling, paralyzed community.

Better to turn a blind eye to the unfortunates than lend a hand likely to be bit, was the argument. Lambs to slaughter, all of her anonymous mutant sources had eviscerated from contact seemingly overnight—lost to anonymity, to the underworld of obscurity and fear.

Foolish, simpleminded. White washed tombs, dens of vipers. Disheartened —didn’t they see—?

A glance into the rearview and she’s able to make out the almost-cavernous upset digging trenches in the skin of her brow, the veil that’s overtaken once-bright eyes. All noted, even in the glare of blue light and shadows. She exhales deep and feels it, between her ribs. In, out—one, two, three; let it go, let it go let it go. That burning knot of lava that’s parked in between her shoulder blades shakes just a little, breaks apart. And for a brief moment, there’s cool relief that comes with another bite of May wind. Chases all the way down her spine, nips at her collarbones.

Her grip tightens on the wheel, highway stretched unforgiving. Mocks her, reminding her how far away she’s attempting to fly, to hide . Inky midnight fans out before her— a lover, shadowing the world beyond the headlights of the Jeep Wrangler. Promising to hide her away, in a new world. The Wrangler seems to roar, engine loud in the empty night air, humming and thunking like old horsepower does. Whether in protest or jubilation, she’s not sure. Doesn’t even know if she wants to be.

A wing and prayer. She’s left on a wing, with a prayer—it’ll carry her. To Laughlin, at least.

Tires eat pavement like a beast, thrum thrum, thrumming away underneatht the rig almost in perfect step with the rabbit heartbeat kicking in her chest. Hears every rotation of rubber against asphalt through the canvas top. Tastes the cold bite of May night seeping through gaps and vinyl windows, cooling that still-there heat between her shoulders, that ache in the back of her eyes.

Fiddling with the radio for the local news distracts her from GPS directions for a heartbeat. Almost missing the turnoff, she more forgoes the stop sign than actually misses it, engaging the clutch and brake to downshift. Skirting by the blaring scarlet of the sign, there’s no sign of headlights any direction at the four way. Except, in the distance, maybe five or so miles.

Between trees that canopy and dart in the breeze, trying to keep civilization a secret from the unsuspecting. Warring against the moon for rights to illuminate, to pierce through the veil of night—mountain peaks like dark sentinels, threatening and breathtaking in the faraway. Sits like a lion, stirring at the presence of the intruding Daniel.

Laughlin City.

“Bingo.”

Mopping droplets of sweat pearling up from between his facial hair hasn’t ever felt more like a chore than it does right now, in the flickering light of a too-late pub crawling with county lowlives and province nobodies. Every muscle burns with adrenaline that pistons through his veins like a hot steamroller, flattening any thought other than sucking air into his chest. Logan Howlett swears to God he can feel his very bronchial tubes with every pull of thick, curling air—wouldn’t be surprised if he couldn’t label every cell, working in unison to stitch him back together.

It’s a delicate dance, healing after a fight. Body goes to work even before new wounds hit home—recovering from old ones, almost anticipating where new ones will land. Takes a significant amount of energy, a high unlike any amphetamine can deliver. Hot, heavy, painful bliss. That feel-good, fuck-this-is-perfect way he’s only ever experience in one other way—and that’s cock deep, in the right woman, red lines flaming down the length of his back. It’s taken a lifetime to ignore the adrenaline, the feel good burn of flesh stitching itself piece by piece. Wounds numbing over as the body corrects. Blood cut off from oxygen, sealed behind skin and screaming behind new scars. Bones correcting from fracture, pulled together with God-perfect precision no ER could ever match. Marrow stretching, cartilage welding back together. Feeling coming back with just as much prejudice as it had when it went.

And it’s no different tonight, after a fight. Adamantium in his hands trembles, quakes with every beat of his pulse. Cold, itching with a sensation that only means one thing— air. Oxygen. Oxygen that fuels rage, that feeds the fire of release that’s a blazing furnace almost carved into the length of his spine. Bones, their marrow, they want air — crave it like demons. Flogging his soul like Christ at the crucifixion, crucifying him to the never-ending torment of holding it all together. Of balancing the line of monster and man, mortal and mutant. Ravages his will, rapes him of innocence, even in his youth. Even as a boy, even as James— he’d never had innocence. What even was purity to a man born to die but forced to live?

He’d always been this, this h eld-together-with-threadbare-stitches-of-his-own-resolve carcass aching to die. Searching to live.

And it takes will, to live. Will of the ages, hills. Steadfastness of mountains to maintain the barrier between resolution and absolution. To not let go —to deny the impulses that scream through his blood like phantoms. Even the very stones beneath his feet cry out for his blood, for justice. Justice that had been lost through time, as others pass away. As he lives. His sins fade with those in graveclothes, but they haunt him like shadows. Peaceless life, ravaged. An ever-present war that carousels about his psyche.

Don’t let go, Logan—don’t let them see you. Light a cigar. Suck in some brandy. Drown out the memories, the tombstones of everything he’s ever felt in his life rising up from buried graves and nameless mantras. It’s not for you, it’s for them. Never for you, always for them—

“—hey, you. Yeah, you— Mutton Chops. Yeah. It’s Wolverine, right?”

He would chuckle if it wasn’t so ridiculous. Mutton Chops?

Fingers scratch through the longer hairs, the corner of his mouth teases up with an amused smirk. Figures, they are a little dated. But, he enjoys them—he likes the way looks, always had. Cut a fine figure, and if he didn’t let himself know it, the women did. Been mooning over him since God knew . If he didn’t hate the attention, if he didn’t hate being seen; mingling with the echelon of the common man—-he could have any tit and skirt he wanted, most places. A few years of fucking anything that walked had lost its charm swiftly, and with gusto.

Logan had learned early that he needed very few things in life to live, to survive. Living demanded the basic essentials, and a man isn’t truly a man unless he makes his own way. Women, well—girls were a luxury . Rubies and emeralds among the silver and golds of the everyday. High prices. Precious things in the eyes of God and the male sex, to be worshiped. Certainly so, can’t argue with the Twains and Shakespeares, the Psalmists of the ages—but they weren’t necessary. Not to survive. Little delicacies to make the journey tolerable, but not necessary. Privileges never were.

“Wolverine—I’m talkin ’ to you!”

But the alias is familiar, but the voice isn’t. Logan tosses back the bite of brandy that burns all the way down, snaps his attention from the bottom of the shot glass to the guy coming up behind him. Feet heavy, he’s at least six-two, two-fifty at a glance guess. Beer gut and a bald dome, some redheaded tart from across the bar reaching to pull him back. May as well be Vegas neon. Trouble—double order, by the looks of it.

Shoulda been my middle name, “In some circles,” warmth skates into his blood, pulling at the attitude simmering at the edges of his resolve, “who’s askin’?” Fixing the edge of his shirt around the waist of his jeans, Logan ignores the instinctual twinge of pain that ricochets between his knuckles. One slip of his self control and there’s hell to pay—bloody, tastes-like-cold-steel hell.

Instead, his arms find the smooth bartop, glass hitting the bar with a crack. Logan pushes it away knuckles first, fingers tapping for another round. The bartender, he knows her as Sue—an aging sixties belle, witchy hair that’s perpetually pinned up in a clip—breezes by and snatches it away, promising him another with a hoarse, been-smoking-for-four-decades rasp. In seconds and the dark liquid spills into the shot glass, crystalline and pretty.

Logan waves her come with two fingers, easing a little deeper into his usual barstool—the barstool he’s been parked in for eight months. Rolls a shoulder. A delicious little burn of healing muscle, dissipating bruises. Common place after a fight in the cage—there’s not enough curiosity in the eyes that are watching him. And he’s counting the paces of Big Boy coming up behind him, can feel the man’s anger from here. Tangible and inbred, like he’s been sucking the tit of pissed off since toddlerhood.

The man’s huge hand is on his shoulder, jerking him back enough that it makes the barstool swivel. Logan’s spine snaps with alarm, with the initial gut punch of response. And he’s surprised with himself for a few heartbeats, that he’s chosen to shrug off the man’s arm instead of separate it from his body. A low, rumbling thunder of a growl simmering in his chest is almost animal, and he narrows a glare at the stranger.

Sweating like a stuck pig, the man’s face is red as a beet. He’s a blush from either absolutely going batshit or having a coronary—Logan isn’t sure which he’d prefer. “I lost four hundred bucks because of you, Wolverine,” the name leaves his mouth with hacking spit, on the crescendo of a trail of spit that hits the floor at Logan’s feet in a wet plop .

And for a second Logan expected Shit-For-Brain’s to continue, but he just stands there, sucking air.

“Tough luck,” Logan’s brows pop tall before furrowing into a hard line, irritation snapping his tone like a fractured bone. Palming the pocket of his leather jacket taking up space on the barstool next to him, he manages a cigar from the pocket, with the God-knew-how-old Zippo. His favorite, he’d had it since—well. He didn’t keep track of trinkets. “Long odds, I guess.”

“The fuck you say?”

He sighs. Deeply. Almost from the depths of his patience God has bestowed. “Anythin’ I can say that’ll make you vanish, bub?” Beer Belly doesn’t even flinch, except the hinge of his jaw snaps open. It could almost sway in the wind. Another sigh, “Take my word for it. Cut your losses and get Little Miss Strawberry Tart outta here—maybe she’ll cut you a deal on the way out.”

In a matter of seconds the guy’s face drops into a gape only a choking fish could probably manage, and he really isn’t that far removed with all his sticky sweat making him look like a drowned, overfat bass. He stops sucking air like an emphysemic, maybe too stupefied to remember how. Logan’s fingers flick the flint of the lighter, cigar between his teeth as it bobs into the flame. Almost immediately, the thick curl of smoke stings his nose—chases the brandy in his throat, something magnificent . Fucking delicious.

Small mercies, God bless them. Breathing in a wave of the thick, hot tobacco, it settles in the mesh of his lungs in a way that would probably kill lesser men—men who couldn’t die, anyway. He could fucking orgasm with how good this smoke burns, bleeding into his blood like good poison, and the exhale he gives may as well whip fifty pounds off the back of his shoulder. His head kicks back, brow furrowing as it cants to the side, taking in the craft of the ceiling. Brass tile— pricy . Riz didn’t strike him as a man with taste, but, stranger things. Interesting.

In a flesh of fat and hairless dome, the man’s fist is curled around the collar of Logan’s shirt—he plucks him off the stool as if he weren’t anything more than a sack of meat. Surprise drops his cigar to the floor at his feet, the toes of his boots scuffing boards—and one glance to the man’s flexed arm reveals it’s absolutely straining for Beer Belly to suspend his bodyweight in the open. The vein in his temple throbs, cheeks almost purple as he splutters for air. Spit flies. Mingles in Logan’s beard.

Revolting, but, give it a few seconds and—-

His boots find the floor heartbeats later, unphased. Logan’s turn, and it gives him great pleasure backhanding the man with his knuckles. Turning his head, saliva flying in trails of thick spit that hit somewhere he couldn’t care less about. Drive him half a step back, bring him back with his fist in tubby’s shirt—and mutant strength makes him weigh next to nothing. A little weight there, but nothing much—Logan could separate his spine from the rest of him without hesitation, thinking. Would be as easy as fileting a fat trout.

The burn in his muscles feels magical. And in three, two, one—he releases. Blood springs from between his knuckles, dribbling to the floor in fat drops. Scarlet stains adamantium, pearling along blades that all but sparkle in the perfect-low of pub lights. The burst of adrenaline immediately ravages the burn of pain, his bones all but ringing, chanting jubilation. And it feels so good, sometimes—so good to not have to hold back, to embrace the pain of living .

Milkwhite, the man’s eyes haven’t unwelded from the blades dripping with Logan’s blood as they hover a breath from the fat flesh of his double-chin. Logan can see his life flashing through his eyes, like a film reel—every man’s always does in the face of death, his face. He’s shaking, Logan’s muscle absorbs every earthquake that pulses through the man’s frame. Shakes more than most—and that says more than it would, to many. Coward’s heart. Shriveled and died before they even got a chance to respond, he’d seen it before. Always took the easy way out. Talked big, acted small. His date would have better luck with an idiot savant than a coward, if Beer Belly here wasn’t a two-for-one.

King Solomon had it right. Nothing new under the sun.

“Told you to cut your losses,” it’s a snarl. Gravelled and aged, like every time before. Less human than monster, but he likes the fear—the respect —floating up to the man’s eyes from his soul. Logan releases him roughly, sending him foot over foot towards his date, across the floor. “Take her home before you regret somethin’ else.”

Strawberry redhead is at his side, looking him over before she turns to consider Logan. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-something, too young to be running with a greaseball nobody with male pattern baldness and a Viagra problem. But tears run freely down her face all the same, as if she cares— and she probably does, because that’s the way of things. People care. It’s a human trait.

All Logan can see is her enchantment with him. She isn’t afraid. While her date may have a coward’s heart, she certainly doesn’t—no common sense, a dense head, sure. But no fear. Funny how that works.

He’d smile if he wasn’t so pissed off, tired. And she doesn’t look him in the eye—her gaze is rooted on his hand, now at his side. His blood hanging out on the floor. She blinks, only looks up at his face when the adamantium on display disappears between his fingers, sliding home in a way that echoes throughout his entire frame. Evidence of them begins to disappear as his flesh works to hide away familiar wounds, correct old sins.

Her mouth, too, gapes like a fish. Nothing new. “You’re….you’re— wow, you’re a—”

“—nobody you should care about, kid.” And that’s the long and short truth of it.

Logan watches her help—he’s discovered his name is Harold—stand to his full height. Helps him sulk into a corner chair like a whipped puppy, and even from here, the purple on his jaw is already dark. Probably broken, but there’s little to do about it.

Brushing off his arm, Logan lifted his other hand to examine it—pearls of blood. Still fresh on his skin. Evidence of their birth long since healed, he stretched his fingers before his thumb rubs between each knuckle, feeling. As if he’s never felt them before—because every time, the pain feels like it’s genesis. The beginning, new. A thrill unlike any other, in a sadistic kind of way that gives him life. Hope—that he’s still feeling.

Turning to retrieve his cigar smoldering on the floor, Logan replaces it in the corner of his mouth. Takes another full breath, sinks low onto the barstool. The sting in his hands has almost entirely dissipated into tingling numbness, and that’s good—Sue knocks his drink to a stop in front of him. Shakes her head as her eyes landscape him up and down, like they’re digging his grave. She isn’t mad, he knows that—Sue has seen him rough up more than one Tom, Dick, Harry in this place. It’s like the revolving sun—they come in. Fight the cage. They lose, get pissed, and he knocks them on their ass. Simple science, really.

Less dangerous and more dangerous all at the same damn time.

“Feel better?” Thin, vein-tracked arms fold in front of her gravity-inspired chest. Heavy laden with turquoise and other painted stones, she’s the picturesque woman of her age—all gypsy, little else. If they’d be deep south in States, Sue could be confused for a bayou witch. And, thinking about her stirring a little pot of potions and cackling on to swamp creatures would be something else entirely.

He chuckles, the mental picture amusing. Leaning forward a little on his arms, his brow peaks up a little. “Now there’s a question if I ever heard one,” his lips purse into a slow smile before he sits back, scratches his fingers through his sideburns— mutton chops, poor Harold had called them. “What do you think?”

A lesser man wouldn’t hear it, but that bottom hinge on the front door howls something terrible in the rain. Signaling another interloper in their midst, Sue’s eyes flick past him to consider the body. It lasts a heartbeat, maybe the flow of blood, before her gaze is back to him—obviously no threat. Except, her arthritic hands reaching for a towel moves her a little closer, and she nods towards the door.

“I think you’d better behave yourself,” she gestures with her chin towards the door, “new blood walkin’ in, Logan honey.” Nodding his understanding, he drags again at his cigar, then turns his head over his shoulder to eyeball the new body—- “Never seen her before. States girl, if I ever saw one,” Sue’s tongue clicks in the pocket of her cheek, “Poor thing’s wet as a drowned lizard. What she do, park half a mile away?”

Drowned lizard? “Anyone ever told you you’re somethin’ else, Sue?”

“Plenty—but don’t ask, Logan. Some things stay dead when you bury ‘em.” Her wink makes him snort, as if it’s something to joke about—and it is, really. To a man who flirts with death and defies it at every turn, nothing really surprises him anymore. The grave is little more than a calling card, and Sue knows that. Riz knows that. Everyone here knows this, but, chooses instead to look the other way—see him for what he is.

Sue’s crooking a come finger at new blood before she’s even fully parted ways with him. “Hiya, honey. C’mere, sit down—we don’t bite.” Logan raises a Really? brow at her before Sue waves him off with a flapping hand. It takes everything he has not to smile at the old woman, but instead, he swivels a little. Back to the newcomer, who’s dropping into the corner barstool, well away from him and into the shadows.

“Speak for yourself,”

Sue whirls on him and tosses the towel she’s been keeping bar with at his face. Batting it away, he downs the brandy. “Oh, hush up!” Her chin gestures across the bar, to the cage—veiled in shadows, it’s little more than a knick knack without its lights, screaming crowds and humming jukebox that gathers every night at ten. Money changing, saliva flying—it sleeps like a tired beast until he rings the dinner bell. “Well, most of us don’t bite—what’ll you have, darlin’?.”

If that wasn’t truth, well—Logan wasn’t sure what was.

tags: @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @fandomxo00

#hugh jackman #wolverine #logan howlett #logan #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x oc #wolverine x oc #x men #xmen logan #xmen wolverine #xmen #mare writes #james logan howlett #james howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine fanfiction #logan xmen

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souiiore · 4 months ago

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THE HOUSE AT EMERALD RANCH

arthur morgan oneshot!

pairing: arthur morgan x oc (name not mentioned)

cw: minors dni, nsfw content ahead, piv, unprotected sex

wc: roughly 2.7k words

summary: After her husband's affair, she found herself alone in her small homestead at Emerald Ranch. In a desperate need of a man's hand, she took in a stranger that showed up on her doorstep asking for work. But the the tension between them was more than overwhelming.

In an AU where Arthur never got sick with TB, set at the beggining of autumn in 1901, Emerald Ranch.

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────

It was the year 1901, two years after the gang's great fall, Micah's big mouth and boasting and Dutch's sweet tooth for lies and manipulative tendencies long forgotten.

Autumn was knocking its wind against the windows, draining the bright green from the crowns of trees and replacing it with colors more pleasant to sore eyes. The weather was gloomy, the sun turning in the sky amidst thick blankets of clouds.

She sat on her porch, wrapped in a blanket with a mug half-filled with something vaguely resembling coffee in her hand, watching the birds pack their few feathers and lift their tiny bodies to fly somewhere warmer. Then she heard a grunt—perhaps the sound of exhaust.

From behind the corner of a shed that adorned her garden, Mr. Morgan emerged. His work shirt was unbuttoned at the neck, his hair slicked back with sweat, and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He held a pair of gloves in his hand, which he carefully folded over each other and tucked into the back pocket of his work pants.

"Got your fence fixed up, but I noticed the wheel rims on your wagon are rustin'. Want me to take a look at those too?"

Ever since her husband fled with another woman, she needed a man's help at her small homestead in Emerald Ranch. Manual hard work like fixing fences, repairing wagons, and mending rusty gutters had to be done by someone with strength, which she lacked.

As if sent by divine intervention, a man almost a head taller than her showed up on her doorstep not long after her husband's affair, saying he was looking for work. Why? She didn’t pry. So she invited him into her small kitchen, offered him a cup of coffee, which he politely accepted, and they discussed the work, including payment.

He might have lacked passion for the work—it clearly wasn’t his cup of tea—but he was not lazy at all. Anything that needed fixing was swiftly repaired in the blink of an eye.

"Thank you, Mr. Morgan," she offered him a warm smile. "Come sit with me."

He climbed the stairs to her porch and took a seat on the wooden bench he had repaired three weeks prior. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a match from his pocket. Placing a cigarette between his lips, he crossed his ankle over his knee and struck the match against the sole of his boot. Cupping his hand around the flame, he lit the cigarette, taking a few puffs before waving his hand in the air to extinguish the match, carefully placing it among the rest of the cigarettes. He knew how much she despised clutter around the house and tried his utmost to respect that—a kind gesture she noticed.

However, that wasn't the only thing that caught her attention.

It all began with the curious looks thrown in her direction. Whenever she worked in the garden—planting flowers, weeding the beds, picking tomatoes and cucumbers, or feeding the horses, gathering eggs from the hens into a small basket hooked on her elbow—and she lifted her head to wipe the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, she felt a pair of icy blue eyes watching her.

She couldn’t help but reciprocate the gaze. She found herself staring at him whenever he picked up the axe to chop wood. Her eyes lingered longer than they should have, watching him intently—how his muscles moved under his shirt, strands of hair glued to his forehead with sweat, his biceps flexing as he lifted the axe only to strike it down, splinters flying with the impact.

Then there was the proximity. Sitting next to her as close as possible, almost deliberately, their shoulders bumping against each other, his legs spread wide, their knees touching, invading her personal space. But it didn’t bother her. In fact, she liked it, and at times, when he left a few inches of space between them on the bench, she found herself longing for his warmth.

She sighed contentedly, inhaling slowly. Her nostrils filled with his scent, the smell of tobacco and musk overtaking her senses.

"Would you like to stay for dinner, Mr. Morgan?"

"Don’t mean to trouble you, ma’am."

"Oh, it’s no trouble at all! I cooked for two anyway," she frowned, "can’t seem to get used to it."

"Reckon he was a prick," he scoffed, taking a drag of his cigarette and exhaling the opaque vapor.

She watched the branches sway in the wind. "Not right off, no. But I guess I let his charm mislead me."

She took a sip from her mug, and he hummed in response. "That must be tough on ya."

"It’s something you can put up with," she said, turning her head to look at him, only to find him already staring at her.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop spinning. Her lips parted to breathe, as if her lungs were under the weight of a giant rock. He was so close to her, the already narrow gap between them couldn't seem to close further, though it, unbeknownst to her, did.

He stubbed out the cigarette, broke the eye contact, stood up, and dusted off his pants. "Guess I oughta be on my way."

This made her stand up too and tug on his wrist. "Stay," she pleaded almost desperately, but she didn’t care. The look he gave her was priceless.

She let go of his wrist and searched his eyes for an answer. He then nodded, almost in defeat. She opened the door to her house and stepped inside, and he followed her wordlessly, closing the door behind him.

She stepped into the kitchen while he took his seat at the table, his eyes lingering on her every movement. She fetched two plates with silverware and set them on the table, arranging them with quiet precision, while his eyes remained locked on her. Then she retraced her steps to the kitchen and returned with a pot.

"Hand me your plate," she said, extending her arm toward him.

She ladled three servings onto his plate, then reached for her own and added two. Circling the table, she settled into her seat and said, "Be careful, it’s piping hot."

"Smells real good," he commented, taking a spoonful.

The room fell silent, with only the clinking of silverware against plates echoing. She wiped her mouth with a napkin when she finished and stood up to grab the plates and carry them to the sink. He thanked her for the meal and stood up, but before he could turn around and walk away, she sprinted to his side and leaned in to peck his cheek. "Thank you, Arthur."

He froze in place, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Oh, woman, you can’t do this to me," he grunted, gently placing his hands on her face and kissing her passionately.

She grabbed his waist to stabilize herself as she almost lost her balance with the impact of his body pushing hers back. She had to pull away for a moment to catch her breath when the back of her thighs hit the dining table, and he rested his forehead against hers, brushing strands of hair behind her ears.

She swallowed down a lump in her throat before leaning in carefully and reconnecting their lips, his meeting hers halfway. He bent down, his hands leaving her face to grab her thighs and lift her onto the table, his lips tracing down her jaw and onto her neck.

Her arms, as if with a mind of their own, wrapped around his shoulders and neck, her hands slipping into his hair, fingers threading through his locks and pulling at his roots. His hand sneaked under her skirts, pushing the fabric up as it pooled at her waist. His palms kneaded the delicate flesh of her thighs, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles, and she sighed into his ear, the sound making heat rise inside of his body.

"My... bed, please," she spoke between breaths, and he lifted his head from the crook of her neck.

He had a satisfied look on his face, flames of lust dancing in his eyes, and she saw her reflection in them. Her lips and neck were slick with saliva, her pupils dilated, yet her eyelids covered half of them.

He leaned in for a quick kiss before she pressed her palms flat on his shoulders and applied pressure to create space. She then hopped down from the dining table, grabbed his wrist, and led him through the house into her bedroom.

Upon entering the room, she lit a lantern that hung on the wall, which casted a soft, warm glow over the room. She stepped closer to him, her hands sliding from his shoulders to his hands, her lips seeking the thin skin on his neck, his stubble scratching against her cheek.

She guided his hands to her back, around her waist. "Undress me," she whispered softly, and he didn’t need to be told twice.

His nimble fingers swiftly undid the knots of her skirts, and she felt the fabric loosen and fall to her feet. His hands traveled up her body to the first few buttons of her shirt, and she took a shuddering breath. Within seconds, he managed to undo them all, his fingers slipping under the fabric on her shoulders and pushing it back, making it pool around her elbows.

While he was busy undressing her, she took matters into her own hands and began unbuttoning his shirt as well, revealing more of his pale skin to her hungry eyes. She then paused, tracing her fingers over an ugly scar that peeked from beneath his shirt. Her eyes scanned his face, but his expression remained unreadable.

"Ain't lived a good life," he stated, cupping her hand that traced the scar. "Done plenty of bad things, ma'am."

She then lowered her head, kissing his shoulder and around the scar, making sure not to miss a spot. He sighed, removed his shirt, unbuttoned his pants, and took them off.

His hands grabbed her thighs, lifting her up and making her wrap her legs around his waist as he stepped closer to her bed and gently laid her down, his weight pressing her into the mattress. His lips wasted no time and attached themselves to hers, his hands kneading her thighs again, inching closer to the waistband of her bloomers.

She pulled away to remove her chemise, her bare chest now revealed to his sight, and he gulped, his eyes wandering hungrily. Her hips lifted, allowing him space to pull off her bloomers, her cunt glistening with slick. She bit her lip, unable to suppress the moan threatening to spill from her mouth, and her hands involuntarily reached for him, grabbing him by the nape and pulling him down into a chaste kiss.

"Is this alright?" came his silent question as his fingers reached her lower belly.

She hastily nodded and shivered as his finger traced the outline of her core. His watchful gaze remained fixed on her face, his eyes unwavering, and she squirmed underneath him in discomfort, craving much more than he was providing.

His finger slipped between her folds and curled inside her. Her hand found his bicep, and she dug her fingers into his skin, urging him on. He took his sweet time with her, adding another finger while his gaze stayed on her face, watching her contort in pleasure.

It didn’t take her long to lose her composure, and she yanked him down to her, chasing his lips in a hungry kiss that made a smug smile appear on his face. She moaned into his mouth when his fingers left her, and he wiped them on his thigh.

"Arthur, take me, please," she whispered, her eyes locked on his.

He had to restrain himself from ravishing her right then and there. His hand swiftly freed himself from his union suit, while the other cupped her face, his eyes questioning. She gave him a curt nod, and he leaned in, kissing her gently as he gave himself a few strokes and entered her inch by inch.

He felt her moan into his mouth, his restraint faltering, and a grunt slipped past his lips. The fingers on the hand that cupped her face stroked her cheek soothingly, brushing her hair out of her face.

"You're beautiful," he commented barely above a whisper, and she could feel the heat rise to her cheeks.

His eyebrows pinched together as her legs wrapped around his waist, her cunt stretching with him inside. His other hand cupped her thigh, stroking it up and down in a gentle rhythm, as he remained still inside her, waiting for her to give him a sign she was ready for him to start moving. His lips kissed her collarbone, nibbling and biting the soft skin, leaving bruises in its wake.

"You're okay?" he mumbled with his eyes on her, his lips still glued to her skin.

"Yes," was all she could manage before bucking her hips.

His hand left her face and reached for hers, encasing his palm in hers, intertwining their fingers, and pressing their locked hands into the pillow beside her head, his hips snapping into a slow, rocking rhythm.

"Fuck," she moaned, her limbs wrapping around his body, her nails scratching at his back.

Her eyes rolled back, and she threw her head back, more skin revealing on her neck. His beard lightly scratched her skin, and she didn’t know what to concentrate on: his lips, his hands, or his thrusts.

Even if he lacked passion for work, he had more than enough passion for this. His hands caressed her so carefully, treating her skin like fine china that would shatter under slight pressure. His touches were light and calculated, his warm breath fanning over her neck, and his lashes lightly tickling her skin.

She couldn’t help but get lost in the pleasure, her back arching involuntarily. Her nails left crescent marks on his back, and he groaned into her skin with a huff.

But then she pressed her hands into his chest, and he stilled, his eyes finding hers for an answer.

"Lie down," she breathed, and he obliged, letting her flip him onto his back and straddle his hips.

If he wanted to, he could easily overpower her, but there was something about her wanting to be on top that made him shiver with excitement and lust. His hands immediately found her waist, thumbs pressing into her belly as she traced her fingers from his chest down to his abs, admiring him from above.

She bent down, her hair now covering both of their faces as she kissed him, her palms flat on his chest as she sank down onto his dick so slowly it took everything in him not to buck his hips and slam into her.

"Christ, woman," he groaned, his hands squeezing her waist as she lifted herself up and then sank back down.

There was a knot in her stomach building up, threatening to snap any second, and it took all her willpower not to let this feeling overtake her. She trailed kisses along his jaw, kissing the scar on his chin, his hands clawing at her skin with each sway of her hips.

Their skin was covered in a thin layer of sweat, and she felt the salty aftertaste on her tongue after licking her lips. Then his eyes closed, and his face contorted. "I— fuck," he groaned, and that was the last straw for her.

The knot snapped, and her vision went blurry. Her body stilled and shook as she slowly came down from her high, warmth spilling inside her with one last thrust of his hips.

Her body collapsed on top of his, and he held her close, kissing the top of her head and lying as still as he could not to disturb her.

She remained unmoving, her fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest as his thumb drew patterns on her back. She could hear his rapid heartbeat slowing, and the blood in her ears and heat from her face slowly subsided.

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────

an: a little something while i struggle with writing chapter 3 of bd&s lmaoo. anyway, hope u enjoyed !! btw the house that i had in mind while writing is the green one where u can spot a girl standing at a window at times i reckon

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x oc #high honor arthur morgan #rdr2 #rdr fanfiction #rdr2 arthur

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50cal-fullauto-astarion · 9 months ago

Text

x g l a s g o w g r i n n e r

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!OC / 2.1k words

Soap’s always been a little too comfortable playing at violence, always gone-bright when he can turn the threat of it into a promise. Joke’s on the world at large: Special Agent Bordelon’s into that shit.

Or: Soap pulls a knife on a stranger for being a creep, because he’s from the brutal street stabbing capitol of the UK and that’s just how you say “Hi, hey, hello—back the fuck off.” And a million kisses to @lunarvicar for encouraging my bullshit! LOVE YOU NAT 🫶

It is never hard to run with Soap and keep his breakneck pace—the only thing that had been difficult was adjusting to the fact that someone else could finally keep up with hers. It’s a stomach-thrilling shock to look from the corner of her eye, and find the blur of his burly shape there, winking and clicking his tongue without breaking a sweat.

Bordelon is soft for the Scot sook, god forsake the shit out of her.

He’s landed in D.C. on medical leave, a broken collarbone leaving his arm in a sling, and the first thing he’d done—after kissing his way up her neck to the spot behind her ear that made her skin sing and her palms sweat—was sling his good arm around her neck, pulling her in close, and nibbling her earlobe. “Christ, s’it always pishin’ it doon here, too?”

“Naw,” she laughed back, reaching to tangle their fingers together on her chest, his backpack slung over her shoulder, “just October, couillon.”

“Ohh, talk that dirty, fake French to me, mah cherry,” he mock-growled, which just earnt himself a pap! of the palm to his cheek. All play, no sting, and he beamed.

That night burns down to the coals—traipsing back to her apartment, showing off the ugly bruise that bleeds does from his neck to his bottom-rung rib, kissing and touching and figuring out a way to fuck that doesn’t hurt him too-too much.

(The man likes a little ache in it, here and there. Calls dichotomy in that blessed, rock-fall accent. Ratios of sweet to sour, black to white, sun and night. As if he had any more concept of balance and moderation than she.)

He lies across the bed in that silly-ass sling, watching her bitch her smart TV a blue-streak while wearing one of his threadbare navy t-shirts and nothing else. Rubs the spot at the bottom of his sternum, listening to rain slap heavy sheets against the old windows, and says, “Perdita.”

“Don’t you full name me,” she warns, shaking her head, because it is an ill-fitted address. For him, she is Hen, or Perdie, in much the same way he is her Johnny, Jean, or John-boy. A thing you love is all in how you name it, and their names are softened and held close; in the way of lovers who began as friends, once they were strangers no more.

“We’re getting married ‘fore I ship back tae Glasgow,” is how he finishes his thought, and Bordelon turns on her hips, back and forth, vaguely pointing the remote at the screen. He gives her a challenging tooth-sharp smirk. “Thought I should warn you.”

“Mhm. Yeah.” She wonders if she should count this a proposal, or call his bluff, and then she thinks—might as well nail both options to the fuckin’ wall while she’s got the knife. “We go our way onto the courthouse tomorrow. Keep it simple, ça c’est bon?”

International marriage is never that simple, though, and they’re both the wiser to it. But the sentiment is pretty, and it sparks amongst the hard-bought bonfire that lives in the depths of her chest, flames rising and licking to glorify his name. So, they call it an engagement, and Soap pulls a turn-around she doesn’t expect, turning his phone off to pull a shade of night over only the two of their heads.

He’s no family to call, apart from his 141, and even then, there’s a hesitance to his hands. Her man—her bombastic, beautiful bastard—could not stand to be a burden, no. A nightmare that is for him, himself. Even if he were to reach out with the utterly, desolately rare delivery of good news (a phenomenon grown so rare that Neptune would sooner complete circuits around the sun these days), it would make his skin crawl.

Were he to have his way, his burdens would never leave the span of his shoulders to weigh down another’s back, even something as small as what might be an inconveniently timed but otherwise benign or even welcome call.

Come the gray and misting morning, he’s handsy and all-paws, even short a limb, groping for Bordelon as the woman rolls upright on the edge of the bed, pushing her sleep-tangled hair away from her face before it irritates her to death. His hand is warm, callused, and heavy with insistence as it settles into the dip of her violin hip, trying to pull her back into the warm expanse of his hard-packed body.

“Perdie, Hen,” he grunts, tone shading toward playful complaint, “the fuck’re y’doin’ awake?”

“Startin’ off,” she croaks, shaking her head, pushing at his fingers as they crawl closer to her cunt. “Stop that—arrête ça! You’re mangy this morning, T’Jean,” she laughs, pushing more firmly at his grip. “No, get up. Got a friend, knows her way ‘round immigration policy, and she always got an envie for brunch.”

“Brunch?” he questions, flat as buried flounder, falling back into her mountains of mismatched pillows with a dreadful look on that handsome face of his. “Darlin’, am no getting my fat ass outta bed, even for brunch. Feel kinda fruity even sayin’ it.”

“Even for to get us married?” she darts back, turning to look at him, drawing her fingers in circles through the hair on his lower stomach, cooing ridiculously in her rasp-rough drawl, “Even for me.”

“Goddamn,” he groans, throwing baby-dog eyes her way. “I mean, was hopin’ you’d take it serious—cannae tell wi’ your ass—but.” He swallows, one of those corny, I’m-about-to-fuck smiles threatening the corner of his mouth, the one that makes him all coy and keen, looking down at her pale, spidery fingers drifting closer and closer through his thick, dark body hair to his fattening cock. “Wouldn’t you rather stay in bed? Cold morning like this, I could keep you warm.”

She just barely brushes her fingers over his cock before she’s snap-sliding out of bed, copperhead quick, tossing over her shoulder, “Nope! Already sent an email, she knows we on the schedule,” on her way to the shower.

Soap drops back against the bed, rubbing his stubbled face, grunting, “Bordelon, you arsehole.”

But he can’t withstand the siren call of watching her in the shower, so, ever-faithful and ever-horned up, he follows after.

D.C. is about as filthied up with the sorrows of addiction and homelessness as any other place, Bordelon supposes. Can’t tell if it’s better or worse than any of the time she spent down New Orleans or Baton Rouge way. Colder, mostly. But it’s not all the time you need to know about the homeless or the drug addicts—keepin’ eyes on them, keepin’ them in your ears, at least at the sides.

Sometimes, it’s the fella in the khakis, with a puffer jacket and prescription glasses, his behaviors making his Rolex look cheap shit.

Bordelon and Soap slide last into the car before the doors pull shut, close to standing-room early in Crystal City as lunch hour approaches. All the suits are out their offices, scrounging for edibles, droning loud and monotone on their cells. Whole car is damp and humid from the downpour, human body heat causing an intense mugginess that crawls under the clothes to irritate the skin. It’s damn near enough to make Bordelon’s head spin, neck uncomfortable with sweat the way it was all them years down deep, deep in the south.

“No, sit doon,” Soap says, flapping the good arm great and wide, trying to get her to pop a squat on the only empty seat left, shaking his head. “Dinnae try bossin’ me, talkin’ wi’ that spooky-arse agency voice. Want away from you a minute.”

He dresses up chivalry as dismissal, and she can’t help but grin, even as she dawdles on sitting.

“What? You don’t like how Tiffany sounds? I swear, she’s perfectly nice. And outstanding in her field. She’s an accomplished agent, and her superiors are recommending her for a promotion,” she says, in that self-same agency voice of which he’d complained—rich and clear, dialect: nonregional, speech pattern: nondescript.

“Oof, fuckin’ hate that, stop,” he snorts, faking a shiver, but he does complain, “Hey, what? Where you goin’?” when she actually does move to sit down, tugging her up by the collar of her shirt just a bit to pop a grinning kiss against her mouth.

She doesn’t realize, at least not right away, that the tug at her collar disrupted her shirt. Just enough to make a few buttons slip, exposing more of her right tit under her open coat. Wore a thin top today, loose, but figured the dark fabric would hide any transparency. Hated tight clothes, hated bras, and never wore one; just figured her rack had spent thirty-three years being nothing to comment on.

Well. More than half a tit exposed was enough to catch the attention of the man who cheapens his Rolex by being the one to wear it.

Soap likes strange things because he, himself, is a strange thing, and Bordelon had thought to take him the two hours north to Philly to hit the Mütter Museum to see their medical abnormalities, because once their brunch is out, they’ll have an entire day to themselves. She’s busy showing him pictures, enticing him, when the woman next to her taps her thigh.

Like an alarm hollerin’ in her head, she starts running two tracks instant-like, leaning without looking as she whispers, “Yeah, chere?”

The woman is older, in maroon scrubs—some kinda tech, smell of jelly on her says maybe ultrasound—and nonslip clogs. Can’t quite see her name badge, but that seems on purpose, covered up by her fleece.

“That man over there—he’s takin’ pictures of you,” she whispers back, straightening her jacket needlessly as a hint, “just wanted you to know. Maybe tell your man?”

“Oh, no,” Bordelon hums, smoothly pulling her shirt back into place, “I tell him, he gonna light that stupid bastard up like a candle.”

“Who’s lightin’ me up like a candle?” Soap stage-whispers, all play, and Bordelon knows exactly how the next ten seconds are gonna go, and it plays out picture perfect to her premonition. Bordelon tells him don’t worry, I got it, the Good Samaritan in maroon scrubs informs him of the creep, and the smile on Soap’s face turns into a flesh-ripper grin as all the fun burns outta his gaze like a gas fire in a hyperbaric chamber.

“Oh?”

“MacTavish,” she warns him, “wait til the stop.”

“Naw, naw, naw. I’ll play nice, Hen.” That means, sure as shit, he won’t.

The switch knife he takes out his back pocket is deadly smooth, and so is his broad step to the stranger and his budget, Amazon-bought phone case, pushing straight into his man-spread legs.

The fact there isn’t an immediate uproar, but the man’s face is blanched and staring up at him with a shitload of oh fuck on his face speaks to Soap’s own scary-ass career, and Bordelon can barely see the tip of the knife pressing into the spot just below the stranger’s ribs.

“Hey, pal, mornin’,” Soap says, bright and easy as anything, voice not droppin’ even a note, head tilted real friendly. “Do me a favor, eh? Just drop your phone next t’my boot, yeah? We’ll just get this little creeper session done and dusted.”

Can’t even hear the clunk when it slides out of the man’s limp hand, and it’s even quieter when the heel of Soap’s boot shifts over to destroy the screen, grinding it to dust.

“Good man,” he says, pulling the knife back to close it and slide it into his sling. “Next stop, you’re off. But you’re gonna leave your phone on the floor. Hope you dinnae eat shet on the way home to your ol’ lady.”

Bordelon resists the urge to slap a hand over her face, but when Soap kicks the phone back to her, she catches it under the toe of her boot, catching the expression of the tech to her side, unsurprised but impressed. Must have herself a man like Soap, waiting for her to make it home.

“Sorry ‘bout the screen, Perdie. Think you can get in there and delete his shet still?” Soap asks, tone a bottom lip pout, and Bordelon nods, tucking her fingers into the back of his belt before snaking them up under his shirt, swirling her fingertips into his back dimples.

“Hah. You know it, Johnny,” she hums, looking up at him from under her lashes. It’s a tenderness, sweet and true, taking up space between her lungs. Mad bastard. Crazy motherfucker. Loony bitch. When he looks back at her, he curls his fingers under her jaw, looking relieved. Poor thing knows hit dog hollers, and he long ago stopped yelping when he was struck. He’s looking to be told he didn’t do something bad. But she finds his pace, she always does. Of course, she did.

But that goes beggin’ the question: what’s a hellhole-heart like her supposed to do with a love like this?

Tag List: @alittleposhtoad @skinnyazn @dotcie @snail-eggs @parttimeprophet @kastlequill 💖💖

#john soap mactavish #john mactavish #soap MacTavish #johnny soap mactavish #soap cod #soap call of duty #soap x oc #call of duty mwii #call of duty #mw2 #cod fanfic #cod mwii #cod mw2 #oc: Bordelon #dunno what else to tag this as #my work #enjooooyyyyy 💃👯👯‍♀️👯‍♂️🕺🏻

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pupsmailbox · 9 months ago

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MARINE ID PACK

NAMES︰aalto. adrian. adriana. adrina. aegir. aerwyna. akua. alda. aleksy. alon. amphitrite. andrienne. anemone. anenome. angler. aqua. aquaette. aquata. aquatique. ariel. arielle. ashera. aurelia. azolla. banks. barbeau. bay. beachette. beachie. beachy. beryl. blu. blue. bluette. bonnie. brooke. bubble. bubbles. calamari. calder. calypso. calyspo. captain. cari. caspian. cassius. cattail. cean. cecelia. celesea. cerulean. cerumae. ceto. clover. coastalle. coastelle. coral. coralette. coralie. coraline. cordelia. corel. corelle. coron. coronis. cove. cubit. current. cyx. dari. daria. darya. davy. delja. delmar. delphin. delphine. derya. destiny. doria. dorian. doris. dory. dylan. echo. elles. eyre. fern. fin. finley. finn. fish. fishe. fisher. fishette. fishy. flipper. float. foam. fwish. goldie. guinevere. guppy. hudson. hurley. hyacinth. hydropha. ink. inky. isla. jack. jelli. jelly. jewel. jordan. jordyn. kai. kaia. kairy. kelpie. kelsey. lagoona. lagoonette. lagoonne. lake. lana. levi. leviathan. lorelei. lotus. maelyn. malik. maren. marie. marin. marina. marine. marinette. marion. marissa. maritren. marlin. marne. marnie. marvin. mary. maxwell. meena. mer. merissa. merlin. meryl. mira. mirabel. miranda. miriam. moby. molly. moray. morgan. moss. naiad. nancy. nauticalette. nauticalle. nelum. nemo. neptune. nessie. nina. nixie. nori. nova. nymph. nymphaea. ocean. oceanette. oceania. oceanne. oceanus. octo. oscar. oss. osseo. pacifica. patience. pearl. pearline. percy. pike. pine. pippy. pond. poseidon. puff. rain. raine. ray. reef. reefette. river. ronan. rosemary. sachiel. sailor. sandy. scylla. seaette. seamus. searya. seaseaette. seashelle. seaton. sebastian. selkie. serena. shark. sharky. shell. shelle. shelley. shelly. shorette. siren. sirena. sirenette. sirenne. skip. skipper. snapper. sporty. squid. star. summer. sushi. tail. tallulah. teal. tide. tidette. timin. titus. treasure. trout. twilight. undine. valdrian. vert. verulean. waterette. wave. wavette. wavy. willow. windsor. wisteria. world. wyvern.

PRONOUNS︰ab/abyssal. algae/algae. an/anemone. ang/angelfish. aq/aqua. aqu/aqua. aqua/aqua. aqua/aquatic. aquatic/aquatic. bay/bay. be/beach. bea/beach. beach/beach. bite/bite. bleu/bleu. bloop/bloop. blu/blue. blub/blub. blue/blue. bo/boat. brea/breathe. breeze/breeze. brine/brine. bubble/bubble. ca/catch. cae/caer. carp/carpal. cat/cattail. cattail/cattail. chomp/chomp. clam/clam. claw/claw. cliff/cliff. coast/coast. cor/coral. coral/coral. cra/crab. crab/crab. cur/rent. dae/daem. de/deep. dee/deep. deep/deep. di/dive. dive/dive. dol/dolphine. drift/drift. drip/drop. drop/droplet. drow/drown. eel/eel. enj/emjoy. exci/excite. fi/fish. fin/fin. fish/fish. fish/fishe. fish/fishie. fish/fishy. flo/float. flo/flood. float/float. flow/flow. foam/foam. fwi/fwish. fy/fish. gill/gill. glass/glass. glub/glup. gre/green. gull/gull. hi/hide. hunt/hunt. hy/hydro. ink/ink. jaw/jaw. jel/jelly. jell/jellyfish. jelly/jelly. jelly/jellyfish. kelp/kelp. krill/krill. lagoon/lagoon. lake/lake. li/light. lob/lob. lost/lost. lu/lung. luu/luu. ma/marine. mako/mako. mar/marine. marine/marine. mer/maid. mer/mer. mer/mermaid. natu/nature. nautical/nautical. nep/neptune. oce/ocean. ocea/ocean. ocean/ocean. octo/octopu. oyster/oyster. peace/peaceful. pearl/pearl. pinch/pinch. puddle/puddle. ray/ray. re/reef. reef/reef. riv/river. river/river. sa/sand. sail/sail. salt/salt. sand/sand. scale/scale. scuttle/scuttle. se/sea. sea/sea. sea/seaweed. sea/shell. seal/seal. search/search. sh/ship. sha/shark. shark/shark. she/shell. shell/shell. shimmer/shimmer. shine/shine. shiney/shiney. shoal/shoal. shore/shore. shri/shrimp. sink/sink. skul/skel. soul/soul. splash/splash. spon/sponge. squ/squid. squid/squid. star/fish. star/star. stare/stare. sting/sting. su/sun. sun/sun. sun/sunbathe. swi/swim. swim/swim. swish/swish. tail/tail. tear/tearself. ten/tentacle. ti/tide. tide/tide. tooth/tooth. tre/trench. treasure/treasure. tro/tropical. tropi/tropical. tuna/tuna. um/umbrella. urchin/urchin. void/void. wa/water. wa/wave. wash/wash. wat/water. water/water. water/wave. wave/wave. wet/wet. wha/whale. whale/whale. wy/wave. ☀. ⛱. 🌅. 🌊. 🌞. 🌴. 🍥. 🎣. 🏖. 🐋. 🐙. 🐚. 🐚.🦐. 🐟. 🐠. 🐡. 🐬. 🐳. 👙. 💧. 🚢. 🛥. 🦀. 🦈. 🦐. 🦑. 🦞. 🧽. 🧿. 🩱.

#⭐️lists #id pack #npt #name suggestions #name ideas #name list #pronoun suggestions #pronoun ideas #pronoun list #neopronouns #nounself #emojiself #marinekin #seakin #oceankin #reefwave #oceancore

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gldrushsblog · 2 months ago

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SUGAR AND SIN | JK FANFICTION

→ TEASER

synopsis: Aurora Beckett is as sweet as the cupcakes she makes and as bright as the morning sun that fills her bakery, the first thing in the morning. With a knack of making friends every chance she gets and putting them before her, she finds herself in trouble more than a friendly neighborhood baker should. Yet this time, the trouble came barging itself. Jeon Jungkook- the shadow syndic, a name whispered through the darkest corners of South Korea, feared like the devil himself. Certain circumstances lead him to her, and the next thing he knows, 5'4 "inches of pure headache is his self-proclaimed partner in crime. But when annoyance starts to twist into a need for the girl, who's everything he's not, he realizes that she is the one who's trouble.

🧁✧ ˚. TITLE: Sugar and Sin.

🧁✧ ˚. PAIRING: Mafia boss! Jungkook × female oc

🧁✧ ˚. GENRE: Mafia au, grumpy × sunshine, forced proximity, slow burn, dark romance, crime/ thriller.

🧁✧ ˚. WARNINGS: violent acts - including murder, physical confrontations, and threats of harm. Dark Themes – Themes of crime such as kindapping and human trafficking, power dynamics, moral ambiguity, mature language, characters experiencing physical and emotional abuse. Please continue with caution.

🧁✧ ˚. TAGS: Mafia boss Jungkook, peirced and tattooed jungkook, he is also a meanie, sociopath Jungkook, jungkook with a gun, RICH man, he kills people for a living or maybe for vengeance, oc and Jk both struggle from a traumatic past, oc is a cat person, oc is an extorvert, people pleaser oc, she is sick and tired of bills, oc is a daddys girl, oc may or may not have a tiny crush on the mafia boss, she is also a little reckless, sloooooooow burn, yearning and pining, a great amount of both from Jungkook's side until he eventually admits it and becomes a simp (he will be downnn horrendously bad), he fucks up at some point, angst angst and angst, but also angst with happy ending? eventual fluff after a longgg wait but it's tooth rotting so maybe it's worth it, eventual smut (maybe Idk man), protective Jungkook, he will die and kill for his people, possessive Jungkook, obsessive too, he is also kind of pathetic but his aura goes insane, oh and he also wears gloves 24/7

A/N: woah maybe this sounds kind of cliché but writing this brings me great joy and I hope you feel just the same if you choose to read it. This is my first time posting a silly work of mine to a public platform and I'm not really hoping for something big but genuine readers and friends I plan to make along the way. Thank you if you're reading this. I hope my words can be worth your time.

Also If you wanna get ahead, I have already posted 9 parts of this on my wattpad.

Thank you again. I will be starting to post here soon.

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ch4rryc0smos · 3 months ago

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REVERIE | 01

WOKE UP AT DAWN.

synopsis ┊kenji sato returns to japan, leaving behind everything he's ever known. and fate plays a cruel joke on him, when hazel vellichor walks back into his life, albeit not by choice. she makes a trip to japan, for a charity event, for another speech, and somehow; media wrangles her in for more drama. what they don't know is that she's ultrawoman, and kenji's ultraman, and there's more than to the eye here. they're well intertwined and every time they tug away, the knot gets tighter. everything leads them to each other, and now japan is in their hands, and they have to unravel every secret they refused to acknowledge prior to this. and they have to accept every role bestowed upon them, whether they like it or not. somehow, all of this leads to is them learning that there was always more to their friendship, and that they were truly two puzzle pieces, fit right next to each other.

genre ┊ childhood-friends-to-strangers-to-lovers, slight angst, tooth rotting & chaotic fluff, co-parenting (?)

pairing ┊ken sato x fem-self insert/oc, ken sato x public figure!self insert, ken sato x childhood-friend!self insert

warnings ┊ mild cursing, mentions of drinking, trauma, heavy topics (?), events in ultraman: rising take place alongside this story.

word count ┊2k.

author's note ┊first part out!! currently in the process of writing number three but, here we have this <3 ken truly comes into the picture in three, so... just a bit more waiting! i also have a playlist for this, if anyone wants it :') the title of this chapter's from 'suntescobar' by lor [again]! happy reading!

prev. | next.

L.A would of course be filled with surprises. So when Hazel receives an email asking her to ‘join’ a baseball game, as a VIP spectator, the first reasonable thing she can think of doing is call Maple. Her trusted best friend. Although, right now that is a doubt too. Considering that Maple would probably have biases, what with her love for sports, and especially baseball. Hazel waits patiently, tapping her fingers on the marble kitchen island, the sun sinks lower behind her, and it casts a beautiful golden glow down the whole room. She watches, as for a moment, her hand looks like it gains colour, and life.

And then a sole ring interrupts the silence, and she picks up. “Maple, I—”

“I can read, oh my gods, you said yes, right?” Maple asks her, and the last time she remembers hearing so much shuffling from her best friend on the other side was the eve of her eighteenth birthday. And that felt so long ago. Seven years, even she didn’t think it had been so long.

“No.” she practically anticipates the groan that interrupts Maple’s shuffling.

Then there’s silence. “Then, say yes!”

“Maple, I don’t know,” she begins, running a hand through her hair. “What exactly will I do there? A philanthropist? A speaker? What relevance do I even hold in such a crowd?” she dares ask. Maple is probably bound to lecture her ears off now, but it doesn’t matter anymore. This game was in a week, flat. And she needs to send an answer within the next two days.

“Can’t you imagine? It’s the influence! And oh, it would be so fun.” Maple sounds like she’s right about to start floating, like dreamland is in the corner of her vision and she’s about to taste cloud nine. Hazel still doesn’t get what exactly her best friend’s seeing, but she’s willing to listen, she supposes.

She sighs, “you know very well that I don’t do well with crowds and loud noises.”

“Absolutely ironic for the fact that you’re a public figure,” Maple says. Well, Hazel really can’t deny that either.

“I don’t exactly do it because I want to,” Hazel tries to reason. “Okay, listen, I do like advocating, but public speaking is genuinely so nerve-wracking.”

“Okay, Shakespeare.” Maple’s eye roll is so loud, Hazel doesn’t even need to be on a video call with her to hear it. “You speak like you were made to be speaking, you literally… enchant crowds.”

“I’m not a magician, I’m just someone who wants to make a change.”

“You’re rich.”

“Irrelevant.”

“Just say yes!” Maple sounds so insistent, this time it’s Hazel that groans.

“Well, fine.”

And she regrets agreeing to this more than she can emphasise. A week passes her by like a gust of wind, and suddenly it’s the day of the game and she receives a message that alerts her about some ride of hers arriving in thirty five minutes. And she’s panicking. As she pulls on a white button up and clumsily buttons it up, her hair falls over her eyes and shoulders, and in the heat of L.A, she hates it so much she doesn’t think she would regret chopping her hair off. She pulls on her belt and she’s clipping it into place when her phone dings again. She glances at it, ten minutes.

Whatever deity is up there, she is so thankful to today. Her hair doesn’t look hideous, even in a bun. And she blows at the two strands that decide to violate her face. But it doesn’t matter. Soon her purse is slung over her shoulder and she’s sprinting out and into an elevator, and she’s smiling, and maybe it’s relief, or the fact that she’ll have Maple absolutely biting her head off later for details and a second-to-second analysis of the game. As if she’s a critic. Maybe for the government, but she thinks that’s where it ends, really.

The car ride is rather peaceful, and she’s humming under her breath as they pull up to a stadium that practically leaves her in awe. She doesn’t watch any sports, but gods, this is magnificent. She’s being led inside and she watches the walls and her mind’s wandering just a bit while she tries to listen to her guide. And she thinks she’s about to slip away completely, but one specific question has her rooted back to reality.

She was acting like a child anyway, how stupid of her. What would Aurelia say if she saw her ogling? Not that her opinion matters, anyway. Hazel hates having to convince herself again and again. It gets tiring, quick.

“Would you perhaps like to meet the top player after the game?” Hazel’s head snaps up to meet a pair of brown eyes, warm, like honey.

The question takes Hazel by surprise. “Oh, no, it’ll be fine! I think this is a great honour as is,” she opts to say. It really was, she didn’t want to overstay her welcome anyway, plus… What would she say or do?

“As humble as they say you are,” Her guide huffs, a playful smile playing on his lips as he leads her down to the front rows. And the cameras that surround them aren’t anything new, of course. But it never seems to feel any better. It doesn’t now, either. She doesn’t know what humility he’s talking about, because to her, this is common sense, but again, who was she to question anything anyway?

She situates herself on the seat marked for her, and notes that she might as well be the last one to be in her seat. She catches a few eyes but looks away. Watching the players as they find their positions, she thinks she can ignore the camera being pointed at her face fine enough.

Which it seems, she did do, by the middle of the game. She’s captivated enough, and that’s when she realises that someone out there would probably look into it too much, and they would think she’s in love with some random player. She shakes her head, stowing the thought away for her to worry about later.

All around her, she can hear screaming, and talking, but there’s one name that she can make out, and it’s just distinct enough for her to be able to tell.

‘Ken Sato’ is being screamed by fangirls from every corner. And it’s actually so funny to Hazel, but she feigns her poker face anyway, and acts like she won’t be laughing about this with Maple once she’s back in her hotel room.

This Ken Sato though, seems to be relishing in the fame, and Hazel would be lying if she says she doesn’t want to roll her eyes. A bit cocky, but alright. He did seem to have the talent to back up that fat ego of his.

Other than the screaming, and the winks being thrown right, left, and centre, the game goes on to be pretty uneventful, for Hazel, at least. She’s growing tired of the same way it’s going, and when at the end she’s asked if she still doesn’t want to meet the best player, she can’t be happier to say yes, she does not want to meet him.

Hazel really isn’t given much reprise, even in the car ride back. Maple is already on her tail, and she’s gushing about Ken, and asking if Hazel caught his eye, because apparently she charms men like she collects awards. Which, in the British woman’s mind is just… nonsense, at best, an exaggeration.

“Did he notice you?” Is one of the first few questions Maple asks, and when she hears Hazel’s sigh, all she does is press on. “Please tell me he did!”

“He did not.” Hazel shakes her head, watching outside her car window as the L.A scenery flashes past her, and how devoid the night sky looks, no clouds, no stars. It’s just sad, to her.

“I’m sure he’d wink if he did!” Maple says, and Hazel raises a brow at her phone, wondering what this was supposed to mean, she really did not care whether he noticed her or not, so why is Maple so pressed about it?

“I really don’t think it matters anyway,” Hazel says, trying to reason with her dumbass of a best friend, and then her phone pings, and she lowers it from her ear. “Maple, I think I’ll have to cut the call short, I’m getting some messages.”

“Urgent?” she asks.

“Yes, I’m afraid so.” And that’s all that it takes for Maple to hang up. Instinctively, Hazel taps onto the messages from Mr. Sato, apparently. Usually, he calls her, so if he’s sending messages… It must truly be important.

Hazel, I’m so sorry for such an unprompted message, but I'm afraid your trip to the US might have to be cut short. I really need a visit from you right about now, especially considering that you’re my last hope.

And that really gets her thinking, What does he mean last hope? Surely nothing’s gotten… that desperate. She sends a message in reply, going ‘Mr. Sato, if it’s urgent, feel free to call me.’

She knows he’s probably worried about disturbing her, but she has nothing to do, and she’s sure that at some point she’ll be receiving a message that goes something along the lines of ‘you offended some political leader, get out.’ Well, good for them, she’ll be leaving before they get the chance to ask her to, or rather; force her. Things like these are one of the reasons she doesn’t visit the US often, as scarcely as possible, actually.

Mr. Sato calls, and she’s quick to pick it up. “Thank you so so much, Hazel—” He begins, but she’s quick again, to cut him off this time.

“It’s nothing, Mr. Sato, what’s wrong?” she asks, her free hand’s fingers drumming along her thigh. She always seems to be doing that when she’s nervous, it’s one of her many nervous habits, and what is even worse, to her is that it’s also one of the many things she gets from her parents.

“My son refuses to pick up any calls of mine, and…” he trails off, but Hazel knows. She’d been one of the first to hear about his injury, and she still feels so bad about it.

“I know, Mr. Sato, you’ve told me, remember?” she starts, trying to comfort him. She hears some shuffling from his side, and then she hears the creaking of a bed. She sighs. Letting him continue.

“Kenji refuses to pick up my calls, check my messages, nothing.” Hazel feels pity when she hears him say those words. And she promises him that if there’s anything she can do, or anything that he wants, she’ll be here for him. Especially if his own son wouldn’t be. Again, maybe she shouldn’t be judging so harshly, but she felt truly bad for Hayao.

“And Hazel?” His voice cuts through the buzz in her mind, and she hums a yes in response. “You don’t have to call me Mr. Sato, just Hayao is fine.”

Well, she thinks that’s disrespectful and she will not be doing it. She says as much to him.

“Then, uncle.”

She knows arguing with him is not going to work, so she doesn’t push any further. Instead, she just accepts it. “Yes, uncle.”

He seems content with that, and says he’ll be waiting for her, patiently. And she can’t lie because she wants to see him too, he was like the only other constant in her life, outside of Maple. Before she knows it, she’s back at the hotel, and she thanks the driver, passing her a tip before she exits the car, catching the glint in the woman’s eyes.

Packing, re-booking her flight, and she’d be ready to head back to Japan. Her phone rings in her pocket, but she pays it no mind, making a mental note to deal with it later. She doesn’t even realise it when she’s done ridding the hotel room of all the life it had while she was there, not until she’s standing up straight and questioning whether she has arthritis or not.

#✎ hazel's works #ken sato x oc #ken sato x self insert #childhood friends to strangers to lovers #ultraman: rising #ultraman #ken sato #kenji sato #ken sato fluff #ken sato angst #fluff #angst #part one

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ruh--roh-raggy · 11 months ago

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Heart of Wires (Sundrop/Moondrop x DCA!OC Piper)

Hello hello! Welcome to something new and different from me!!! This is my first time writing Sundrop, this is also my first time making an OC! It is with my greatest pleasure that I introduce you to Piper Belle Healy! This whole fic is going to be slow burn, super tooth rottingly sweet fluff. I'm just enamored by these big Bois, I wanna hold their hands and kiss them on the cheek. SO THATS WHAT IM GUNNA DO!! I hope you enjoy! Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

WARNINGS: None

You can find my Masterlist here!

Word Count: 3,985

Part 2

“Good morning!” The chipper blond welcomed her with a gapped tooth smile as she sang her greeting. “Piper, right?” The red head nodded in confirmation. “Perfect. I'm Meredith, everyone calls me Merry, I'm gonna be the one showing you around the Pizzaplex!” She motions for Piper to follow her, pushing through the turnstiles with ease before walking into the main lobby. “I’ll give you a more thorough run down after your shift, they never listen when I tell them to have you come tour the place beforehand.” She sighs, stepping onto an escalator and casually leaning up against the railing. “You’re going to be in the daycare, so you’ll be working with Sundrop. It should be pretty easy; arts and crafts, making sure the kids don't hurt themselves, nap time, nothing too crazy. Sun can walk you through it, anything you need, just ask him.”

“Some interesting nicknames around here.” She remarks with a lopsided smile. “Merry and Sun.”

“Oh, Sundrop is his real name!” She responds with a laugh. “I take it you haven't gotten to meet any of the animatronics yet?” Merry gives her an excited glance.

“No, I've seen the posters and stuff, pictures of them in the office when I went in for my interview, things like that, but I haven't, uh, met them?” She says giving the taller blond a look of confusion. ‘Why would I have to introduce myself to a robot?’ She thinks, quickly shaking the thought as she rushes to keep up. She approached a set of large, wooden double doors, the gold handles glistening in the low lighting. She holds the door open for her with a smile, motioning for Piper to walk in ahead of her. Piper fidgets with the sleeves of her sweater, looking around the room to see shoe cubbies and hangers for coats and bags about halfway up the wall. The faded paint was covered in drawings of kids standing next to who you were assuming to be the daycare animatronics. Both of them are tall and slender, one with a sun shaped head, the other a moon. The sun wore yellow and red striped pants that billowed loosely down his legs, you noticed most of the kids had drawn what must have been bells on his wrists and ankles. The moon was dressed similarly, only his pants had white stars against a dark blue background, a matching sleep cap sitting atop his head. She smiled, breathing out a soft laugh as she ran her finger over the waxy artwork.

“We could take the stairs, but the slide’s faster.” Piper jumps as Merry suddenly starts talking. She chuckles seeing the shorter woman’s expression, pointing to a tube that must have led down to the daycare.

“Slide it is.” Piper giggles in response. Merry grabs onto the railing above the slide, jumping slightly before flinging herself down the plastic tunnel. Piper hears the clatter of plastic below before Merry calls for her to come down. She excitedly hops into the slide, unable to stop herself from smiling as she rushes downwards. She yelps slightly as the slide abruptly ends and she’s flung into the waiting ball pit below.

“Sunny! I’ve got a new friend for you to meet!” Merry cups her hands around her mouth as she calls out in the massive playroom.

“A new friend? Oh, how exciting!” Piper hears a voice call from above. Her eyes widen as she sees a large clown with a sun shaped head spin out onto a platform overlooking the daycare. In one swift motion he dove from the platform and into the ballpit, mere feet in front of her. Piper scrambled to find solid ground, hoisting herself up onto the rubber mat covered floor, her foot slipping on one of the yellow pool noodle covered edges. Two sets of articulate robotic fingers wrap around the foam in front of her before the robot hoists himself up to his full height, she scrambles backwards, screaming as she bumps into Merry.

“It’s alright! Piper, this is who you’re working with!” She drops down to her side, shaking her slightly in an attempt to break her out of her panic. She froze, her chest heaving as she watched the golden points whirl around his face.

“You said he was an animatronic!” She exclaims, motioning rapidly to the human-esque figure in front of her.

“He is!” She exclaims. “The technology for him is very advanced, it’s something the owners have been perfecting their entire lives.” She explains with a smile. She looks between the animatronic and the nearly shaking girl in front of her. “Sundrop, this is Piper, she’s the new daycare attendant.” He stands there for a moment. His unreadable expression makes her heart race.

“New daycare attendant, hm?” He suddenly speaks, his voice was so expressive, if she wasn't so terrified of his monstrously tall stature Piper would've been amazed. He slinks closer to her, kneeling down to bring his face directly in front of hers. “I’ll warn you now, the daycare isn’t a place for amateurs.” She furrowed her brows at him.

“I’ll have you know I’m wonderful with children.” She sits up, he jolts back as she suddenly gets close to him. “I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t make assumptions about me considering you just met me a few seconds ago.” He seemed a bit taken aback at her sudden change in demeanor. Just a moment ago she looked so timid and scared, but now she looked like she was ready to bite his head off.

“I’ll let your work speak for you then.” He stands, grabbing her gently by the wrist and hoisting her up with him.

“Sun, play nice, she’s the best resume that’s applied for the daycare in a long time. Who knows, maybe you might even like her.” She smiles and winks at him. She turns to Piper, “I’ll swing back by here at lunchtime, I’ll help you find your way to the cafeteria.” She offers happily. “And don’t let him make you nervous, he’s a drama queen anyways.” She teases, making Piper giggle.

“I wonder why? It’s not like my programming was originally meant for the theater or anything.” He responds sarcastically.

“Show her around the daycare, give her a run down of the schedule, don’t kill each other.” She counts out the tasks on her fingers. “Think both of you can handle that?” They both nod. She gives both of them a wave over her shoulder as she heads off to get ready for her shift.

“So, we start off with free play.” He motions for her to follow him as he prattles on about the schedule for the day. He shows her where all the craft supplies are, where to find the adult-only tools like sharp scissors and permanent markers. He explained that during naptime is when she would meet Moondrop, “let him handle putting the kids down, he doesn’t like it when someone interrupts his system.” He explains. “Other than that, if you’ve worked with kids before, you should know what you’re doing already.” He sighs, obviously expecting her to fail from the start.

“I think I can handle it, don’t worry.” She squeaks with mock confidence, trying to find some way to change the animatronics tune towards her. “Sundrop?” He turns to her. “I’m really looking forward to working with you, I’m sure I can learn a lot.” She noticed how the whirrs and pings of his internal mechanisms grew slightly louder at her compliment. His eyes flicker over her face for a moment.

“Thank you, Piper.”

Piper watches as child after child comes down the slide into the Superstar Daycare. “Friends, if I could interrupt your playtime for just one moment, I have an important announcement to make!” She was pleasantly surprised at how quickly the screams and laughter of the children died down, Sun easily able to catch their attention. “Some of you might have noticed there's a new face around the Daycare today. I would like to introduce all of you to Miss Piper.” There was a chorus of small hello's and hi’s from the group. She jump as Sun suddenly claps his hands together, telling them all they could go back to playing. He strides up to her, her eyes trailing up his long thin frame as he stretches farther above her than anyone she had ever met. She guessed that Sun stood somewhere around 7 feet tall, compared to her short stature he looked nothing short of a gigantic. “Go grab the markers from the supply closet, I'll take care of pulling out the tables and chairs.”

“You know it wouldn’t kill you to say please.” Piper huffs before turning on her heels and hurrying off to get set up for drawing time. Sun can’t help but watch her retreat. Out of all of his time in the Pizzaplex he had never met anyone like her, staff member or otherwise. She wasn't afraid to speak her mind, that was apparent from the small little quips she had spit out at him. Granted, he knew he had a tendency to be a bit harsh towards new hires, but that was only because almost everyone they sent him was incompetent. It's not that Sundrop was mean, he was just a perfectionist. The Daycare Attendants he has worked with in the past didn't care about the kids like he did, they didn't have the same passion for the glitter covered stick figures they would be presented with. But there was something different about Piper. Sun saw how you immediately stopped when one of the kids ran up to you, stooping down to scoop the small boy up in her arms to head in the direction he was pointing in. A ball had gotten stuck in one of the rungs on the play place, too high for any of the kids to reach safely. He watched as she maneuvered herself carefully up the brightly colored structure, wiggling the ball loose before climbing back down. She hands the ball over to the boy, giving him a high five and praising him for asking for help. She smiles as the boy runs off to play with his friends. Her eyes meet Sun’s, causing her to freeze. She lets out a sigh of relief, smiling softly as he offers her a subtle thumbs up. Sun walks away, going to set up the tables for the next activity.

“What do we have here?” A voice purrs in Sun’s head.

“There's a new Daycare Attendant.” Sun mutters quietly out loud.

The voice groans, “another one? They keep sending us these stupid humans-”

“I thought the same thing. But she seems… different.” He explains, sliding the tables across the floor.

“So that's what woke me up.” He lets out a raspy chuckle. “I guess I’ll have to see what she’s like in a couple hours.” The warmth in the back of Sun's head dissipates as his counterpart returns to sleep.

“Sundrop?” He's snapped from his thoughts by her melodic voice. He turns to find Piper standing there with multiple bins of art supplies stacked in her arms. “I have all the crayons, markers, glitter, stickers, glue sticks, and stamps.” He smiles as he listens to her list off everything he would have grabbed. “I'm having some trouble finding the paper.” She admits bashfully.

“Here, let me take these.” The cold tips of his metal fingers brush against hers as he takes the stack of containers from her. He spreads them out across the tables before turning back to her. “Let’s go look for that paper.” She was a bit shocked by his response, she was waiting for him to start yelling at her. He didn't seem too keen on working with someone new, her not being able to complete such a simple task should've set him off. She follows him into the supply closet, he lets out a soft hum as he scans over the shelves. “Here we go.” He pulls out a pack of paper and hands it to her. It appeared to be at the back of one of the very top shelves, a place she couldn't have reached if she tried. “I'll make sure to get all the paper moved down to where you can get it.” He states simply before walking back out into the daycare, leaving Piper to watch him duck out of the closet in a state of confusion. He had seemed to completely change from the animatronic she had met earlier this morning, and she couldn't figure out just what exactly had spurred the sudden shift. She got everything set up for drawing time; separating the stack of paper into smaller piles to make it easier for all the kids to share, opening all the containers and removing a couple markers that had been left uncapped and had dried out. You heard the excited screams and talking of the kids as they ran over to draw. Sun had a child in either arm, a third clung to his leg as he moved in your direction.

“Miss Piper?” Her attention was caught by a girl with strawberry blond pigtails as she tugged on her sleeve.

“Hi honey, what’s your name?” She asks cheerily, kneeling down to be closer to the girl's eye level.

“Haley.” She responds with a huge smile, her two front teeth missing.

“It’s nice to meet you Haley, what’s up?” She looks bashfully over at Sundrop before her eyes immediately dart back to Piper.

“Do you think you could help me draw a picture for Mr. Sun?” She holds out the orange crayon she had clutched in her fist. “I want to make something for him but he’s really hard to draw.”

“Of course I can.” Piper smiles brightly at her, letting out a soft chuckle at her excited expression. Haley grabs Piper by the hand, tugging her back to where she was sitting, telling all of her friends that Piper would help them make pictures for Mr. Sun. She couldn't help but smile as her time was filled with giving high fives to all the excited kids as they showed off their drawings to her, drawing a quick Sundrop head for the kids to color, and being asked a million questions about her bright colored jewelry and fun outfit. Little did she know, the whole time Sun was keeping a close eye on her, absolutely delighted by what he saw.

“How’s everyone doing over here?”

“Sunny!”

“Mr. Sun!”

“Sundrop!” Piper looks over her shoulder to see the large animatronic had made his way over to where she was working.

“Is it okay if I sit here Miss Piper?” He asks with a smile, motioning to the chair next to her. He noticed how some of the kids must have placed stickers on her cheeks, her freckles laced with sparkly stars and neon smiley faces.

“Sure, Sundrop.” She smiles sweetly at him. He crouches into the comically small chair, his knees pressed to his chest.

“Miss Piper’s been helping us draw you Mr. Sun.” Haley exclaims, giggling when the animatronic gives her an amazed expression.

“Really? You all wanted to draw me?” They all clamored over to him, wanting to show off their pictures, most of them drawings of Sundrop holding hands with that child, ‘best friends’ scrawled across the bottom in messy script. “These are so wonderful!” He leans in closer to the group, they all copy his motions with wide eyes, waiting eagerly to see what he would say to them. “How about next you guys draw some pictures of Miss Piper?” They all silently agree before hurriedly turning back to their papers and crayons. He leans back in his chair. “I'll have to admit Piper, you're doing an amazing job.” She found heat settling behind her cheeks at the compliment, her eyes darting over to meet his glowing white ones.

“Thank you, Sundrop.” She smiles shyly.

“You can call me Sun, less of a mouthful.” He chuckles. “If Moon likes you you'll have passed your trial run.” There was a slight teasing tone in his voice.

“Well, lets hope for the best then.” She smiles at him.

She was grateful for nap time once it rolled around, with so many kids it was hard to find a moment to catch her breath. “Go pick your spot.” She shoos off a small boy into the other room, dimming the lights as they all settle in. She softly shuts the door, tucking herself away in a corner so she wouldn't get in Moon’s way. She wondered why she hadn't seen any sign of the animatronic all day. Her eyes immediately drifted to Sun as he stepped in the room, as he shut the door you watch his face spin around, all of the points surrounding his head getting tucked away as a sleep cap appeared. She blinked, the gold and red stripes on his pants suddenly turning to stars.

“You must be this new Daycare Attendant I heard about.” His voice was much raspier than Sun’s, he turned to face Piper, a noticeable difference in his face from the animatronic that had just stepped in the room in front of her. The moon on his face was much more prominent, the other side of his face being blacked out save for his glowing white eye. She was amazed at the complexities of their system, not to mention the immediate difference she noticed in their personalities, if she hadn’t just seen the change in front of her she wouldn't have believed this was the same animatronic. “You just sit back here, I’ll make this quick… and try to stay awake.” He chuckles before slinking off into the dark room. She heard the soft gasps and calls for Moon that he gently shushed, patting each child's head that greeted him as he made his way to the center of the room. The soft sounds of a music box beginning to chime filled the room, a tapestry of stars slowly rotated around the ceiling. Almost like magic Piper noticed the kids near her fall asleep one by one, every one of them in the room asleep by the time his song ended. She found herself yawning, pushing her round, wire framed glasses onto the top of her head as she wiped her eyes. She stretched, her spine letting out a soft pop as she pulled her arms over her head. Her eyes fluttered open, her hand immediately clapping over her mouth to suppress the scream that had welled up in her throat. Moondrop’s face was mere inches away from her own, he studied her closely, slowly crawling around her with almost spider like movements.

“I'm assuming you must be Moon?” She whispers nervously, his gaze didn't feel as judgemental as when she first met Sun, but he still made her nervous nonetheless. He offers her a small nod in response. “I’m Piper.”

“Sun seems very impressed with you Miss Piper.” He coos softly. “I do have to say you're definitely a lot prettier than the usual Daycare Attendants they send us.” He chuckles at her flustered expression. He runs a finger over one of the star stickers on her cheek. “The kids seem to like you too, that’s good.” He carefully maneuvers around her, propping himself up against the wall at her side. “How are you enjoying your first day?”

“It’s been good, definitely not what I was expecting.” She giggles, Moon felt a strange pang in his chest at the sight of her smile. She looks out over the group of sleeping children. “You know, that?” She makes a vague motion to the room. “Very impressive.”

“I have a bit of a talent.” He chuckles in response.

“Do you only come out for nap time?” He was a bit surprised by the genuine curiosity in her tone.

“I can only come out when the lights are off.” He explains. “Nap time, sleepovers, Sun and I switch off after hours.” She sat and quietly chatted with Moon for the rest of nap time, Piper found herself a bit sad to see him go.

“It was wonderful getting to know you.” She smiles softly at him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Piper.” The lights gradually grew brighter as nap time came to an end. The sleepy yawns of kids and soft giggles of them talking amongst themselves filled the room.

“Well, good morning!” Sun greets the kids cheerfully as they head back out into the main play area. She timidly makes her way up to his side, feeling a bit awkward standing next to the tall robot. “I take it everything went well with Moon?” She could tell by the softness his expression held that he already knew the answer to that.

“I hope so.” She smiles at him. “I don't want either of you to think I'm an amateur.” She mocks his assumption from the morning with a wink, making him chuckle.

“You definitely proved you're not an amateur Piper.” His hand gently comes to rest on the top of her head. Piper feels a blush spread across her cheeks as he pats the spot between her messy, copper space buns. “I'm sure they're all hungry, let's get them set up for snack time.”

“He hasn't been giving you a rough time, has he?” Merry asks as she hands you a tray.

“No, I've actually been having a lot of fun working with him.” She admits with a small shrug and a bashful smile.

“What about Moondrop?” She follows up.

“He was also wonderful.” You reassure her.

“I'm impressed.” She mumbles as she starts to grab things to eat. “The last three people they hired had already been run off by now.” She chuckles. “I guess they did end up liking you after all.”

“I can't get over how much personality they have.” Piper smiles excitedly.

“I mean, they might as well be people with how complex of a machine they are. They're fully articulate, their AI lets them experience emotion, they're pretty much just like us without the internal organs.” They both pay for their lunches and sit down. “So, now that you've spent a couple hours with them, do you think you’re going to keep the job?” She seemed almost nervous as she asked her.

“Oh, absolutely!” Piper beams. She hurries through her lunch, exchanging goodbye’s with Merry before she heads back to the daycare. So she wouldn't cause a disruption she decided to take the stairs down to the main play area.

“Welcome back.” Sun smiles at her as she approaches. The rest of the day flew by as Piper got dragged off by a small group of kids to go play. She couldn't help but laugh as she caught sight of a girl wearing pastel pink fairy wings riding around on Sundrop’s shoulders, pretending like she was flying. Slowly your group became smaller and smaller as parents arrived to pick up their children, before you knew it you and Sun were alone, cleaning up the disaster left behind. “I'm sorry we got off on the wrong foot this morning.” He suddenly apologizes, nervously tapping the curled golden toe of his shoe on the floor.

“It’s okay, from what Merry told me they threw in some real pieces of work before me.” She giggles in response. “We can always try again tomorrow.” He pauses, straightening up to look at her.

“Piper?” She hums softly, her blue eyes landing on him. Sun felt the words catch in his throat for a second. He takes a few steps closer to her, retrieving a yellow sun sticker from the booklet he kept in his pocket. He presses it to the apple of her cheek, her soft warm skin squishing under his finger as she smiles at his action. “Welcome to the team.”

Tag List: @yellowbunnydreams @twelvelevens

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