#should i tag this kyle hill????? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nsharks · 27 days ago

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bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part twenty-four —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn’t here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: ily

England passes in beautiful shades of green, the last time you'll see it, so you soak it in. Rolling hills streak the landscape like scars. In the distance, you glimpse faded architecture, imagining people living and working there. An ivy-covered university appears, and you picture yourself dozing off in a lecture. These little fantasies entertain you for the next two hours, but Blue isn't distracted by the same game. When you look at her arm, you notice pink scratches just below where the friendship bracelet hugs her wrist, made by her nails mindlessly.

You tear your eyes from the window and nudge your shoulder against hers. "Hey. What do you call a cow with no legs?"

Her lips twitch at the broken silence and she lifts her azure eyes to yours, a bead of sunlight catching in them. "What?"

"Ground beef."

Those eyes roll. "That's stupid."

Nereida smiles from the other side of her. "Oh, I've got one. What did the ocean say to the beach?"

Blue sighs. "Ghost said that one before. Nothing—it just 'waved'."

A recoil passes over Nereid's kind eyes. "I apologize. That's the only one I know."

Quiet air fills the space again, and when you notice Blue's nails dig back into her wrist, you gently lace your fingers through hers and pull her hand to your lap, allowing her to scratch your thigh, instead.

When an old theme park erects from the grass, Blue's interest piques. "Woah. What is that?"

"None of it works anymore," Ghost mutters, one hand on the wheel.

"It looks cool, though. I have to pee, anyway. Can we stop here?"

"I could use a little stretch for my legs," Nereida adds.

The pitstop is brief enough to allow Blue the chance to curiously look through the decrepit bumper cars, carousel, and even a small rollercoaster that still has the car sitting mid-track. She grabs Ari's hand to show him, but he doesn't seem as intrigued given the pale look on his face. He ends up rushing to a bush and keeling over.

"The back gets a bit bumpy," Kyle says when he notices your expression. "He'll be fine."

"I'll switch with him for the rest of the way."

"You don't have to."

"It's fine. He can probably entertain Blue better than I can."

Everyone uses the small break to eat a little lunch. You already had some of the beans Ghost packed, so you feel uncertain whether you should eat anymore of his food. You haven't even discussed sharing. Rather, you ration the jerky you made and save the rest.

It is a small meal, so you eat it slowly to trick your stomach into feeling full. Just before getting back to the truck, you spot a tree by the entrance to Kettering Kastle. Hickory. Paul told you once they make for great arrows, a softer hardwood. Pliable yet strong. This excites you. Your sheath is only half-full, so you grab your serrated knife and cut a few midsized branches to take with you.

Sitting in the truck bed is far from pleasant. The tail wind makes it hard to breathe, and you have to grab the side of the truck to keep yourself from flying out. Kyle notices your struggle and seems amused, but reaches an arm over in offering. You hold onto him and it does some to keep you stable.

The motorway passes through Kettering, which is a smaller city. The smell is retched, though the only Greys you spot don't take notice to you, trapped between buildings and toppled telephone poles. You make out a sign that reads A14 and figure it is headed to Cambridge. If you continue this pace, you'll reach the coastline by sundown.

Of course, things don't work out that way. The road becomes more obstructed with abandoned vehicles. Ghost has to weave through them like a maze, wasting time and fuel. The sun crawls higher in the sky. Finally, there are a few kilometers of straight road. Speed ticks up only to come to an abrupt halt when he reaches an underpass. You let go of Kyle and stand up to see what has caused the stop—a semi truck completely blocks the way through it.

"Jesus," you mutter.

Consecutive slams of the fronts doors indicate Price and Ghost are checking it out. Kyle hops out with them. After a few minutes, he returns and explains with a sigh, "We'll have to backtrack and find a side street that will lead to another motorway ramp."

"That's going to eat time. The sun will set soon."

He offers his arm again as Ghost begins reversing. "I know. It's fine, we'll just get to the water tomorrow. No rush, yeah?"

It adds an extra hour and a half. The sky turns a remarkable orange that would've had you gawking if not for your irritation of having to stop again. Ghost pulls over just before it gets too dark to set up the tents in a small market town called Haverhill. There's hardly anything here except fields of bright, yellow flowers and little shops with slanted CLOSED signs. It is actually pleasant and well-preserved, until you catch the distinguishable shape of a corpse hanging from one of the telephone poles, a black trash bag over its head.

"Don't look at it."

"Nothing I haven't seen before," you dismiss under your breath.

A more forested patch of land at the edge of the town is where you make camp for the night.

They eat canned goods and you finish your last pieces of jerky. This means you'll have to find more food for yourself tomorrow, or ask Ghost for some. The thought makes you anxious. The last thing you want is to seem like an extra burden. Dead weight that they'd be better off leaving behind. But he also didn't comment when you ate the beans. The uncertainty of where you stand means you need to make yourself useful.

The men need rest, so you offer to keep watch.

Prices dismisses you. "You don't have to, Twix. The three of us can take turns."

"No, really. I'll keep watch and you guys can all get more sleep. I've just been sitting in a car all day, anyway."

He gives in, visibly fatigued after being up over twenty-four hours.

Ghost and Price sleep first.

That leaves you sitting with Kyle when the stars begin to flicker like bright, little heartbeats against the black night.

You pull out your smoother knife—the one you found back at that base—to carve the sticks you found, careful of your bandaged thumb.

Kyle lays his rifle across his lap. "First time I am seeing you smile today and it's while carving sticks."

"Arrows," you correct, holding one up and tapping your index lightly against the sharpened point. "And it's good wood. Hickory."

"You're an easy woman to please," he teases.

"My tastes have changed over the years."

"Really? I can't imagine you as one of those people who cared too much about nice things."

You flash him a raised brow. "Are you saying I was cheap?"

He nudges your knee. "Not what I'm saying. You just seem like someone who would prefer a little movie date over a fancy dinner."

"I liked sushi. Is that fancy?"

He hums. "There were some good cheap sushi spots in London—hole in the wall type places. When there was some kid doing their homework at one of the booths, that's when you knew it'd be good shit."

"You're making me hungry."

"Well, you should've eaten more." He looks at you knowingly. "You're scared to ask anyone for food, aren't you?"

Are you really that easy to read? You place the half-finish arrow across your knees and look at the ground, brushing your fingers absentmindedly through the soft grass. "I just—I am aware of my place here."

"Your place?"

Your hands tightens the grass into a fistful. "I am at the bottom."

"The bottom," he repeats slowly, and his voice lowers. "You really think that?"

You rip the grass and sprinkle it over your boot, glancing up at him. His eyes have darkened, or maybe they are simply mirroring the sky. "I am not complaining. I understand that everyone here has others who they would prefer to keep alive over me, that's all. I just don't want to stick out anymore than I already do."

He reels in your words. "You're forgetting that everyone here has their own perspective, their own wants. It is not as simple as you're making it seem." In a change of topic, he reaches for the arrow on your lap. "Here—let me help."

You hand him the knife and he begins carving expertly as a few minutes of silence ensue. You are lost in your thoughts, keeping your eyes on the surroundings, when he suddenly stops in his handiwork, holding up the knife. You watch him study the leather handle carefully, shake his head to himself, then look at you.

"Where did you get this?"

"Huh? Oh—I found it. At a military base actually."

Your answer seems to strike him, and he releases a disbelieving exhale. "The one near Manchester?"

You nod.

"It was my brother's."

What?

Reading your expression, he shows you the handle and rubs his thumb over a small etching at the bottom that you can barely make out in the moonlight: PG.

"Patrick Garrick," he explains in a murmur, and your chest tightens. "I didn't even notice it at first. It's been years since I had it. The last time...the last time was when shit happened, and I lent it to a friend of mine at the base."

"Who?"

"Soap," he says, a memory taking over his expression as he rubs his jaw. "He was the other member of our spec ops unit."

"You... Someone mentioned him before. Ghost—he asked you guys about him when you arrived. You don't know what happened to him, right?"

Kyles nods. "He stayed back at the base to keep helping even when Price and I jumped ship. That was the Scottish in him—stubborn as hell. Soap was just his codename, of course. Like mine was Gaz." He looks up at you with a faint dimple. "And yours is Twix, huh?"

"I guess." You press your tongue to your teeth and grab the knife, frowning at it as you try to recall exactly where you grabbed it from. "What was his real name, then?"

"John MacTavish."

"I think—I think your friend is dead. I'm sorry." You gaze at him. "I remember now. I found it in one of the rooms, and there was a skeleton with that name. He... he had it quick, though."

The expression on his typically warm eyes turns unreadable and his shoulders stiffen in the slightest. You wonder if you should have bothered sharing this, but then he shrugs it off with a sigh. "It's okay. Figured as much. Many people have died. He's just another name to the list."

Instinct draws your hand to his shoulder, and the muscles softens beneath your touch. "I'm still sorry."

His eyes find yours.

He smiles solemnly.

Then, somewhere in it all, he leans over and closes the gap. The sudden, foreign feel of lips pressed against your own stuns you. His lips move gently, cold and soft against yours, and only when he threads a hand through your hair to pull you closer do you fully register what he is doing. Your eyes fly open and you break away, leaping to your feet.

"Why did you—what was that?"

He stands up with you. "It felt right in the moment."

He tries to touch your shoulder but you flinch away. "I'm sorry. I just—I was just trying to comfort you."

"I misread the moment." His eyes are clouded. "So you didn't want it?"

Did you? Your mind feels fuzzy. "I don't know. I need to...I want to be alone right now."

You grab your knife and sticks, rushing around the tents to find solace by the truck, needing to process what just happened. As you move, you bump into a hard chest—Ghost. Somehow you failed to hear the jagged teeth of the tent's zipper. Avoiding his gaze, you try to slip past, but he grips your elbow, holding you in place.

"What is it?"

The lie wedges out of your lips. "Nothing. I just—thought I saw something so I am going to sit over there and keep an eye out."

The difference in height leads to his stare burning into your scalp. "What did you see?"

"I don't know. Something. Maybe just an animal."

His hold doesn't soften. Stoicism forces itself on your face as you press your lips into a line.

You're easy to ready.

He finally lets go. "I'll take over now. You can sleep."

You find yourself nodding soundlessly, internally glad to be relieved of this duty.

Sleep offers peace of mind, at least until morning.

Dawn breaks over the small town in a quiet clatter of spoons against cans and the shuffling of bags being packed up. The dream you wake up from was one of an old life—the last kiss you experienced. But it fizzles quickly from the recesses of your brain the moment your lids shutter open.

Both you and Kyle seem keen on acting as though nothing happened. More than anything, you are confused. You try to search inside that box of yours for how you feel, but all you find is fear. You've barely been able to keep up with the fear. You busy yourself with helping get everything back in the truck, fitting the supplies like a jigsaw puzzle. You have nothing to eat. A day or two without food is doable until you can properly hunt for something—

"Here."

It is Nereida who catches you by the truck before leaving. She practically shoves a can of tuna into your hands and you look up at her in hesitant gratitude.

"We're all sharing food," she says. "That is how it should be."

"Thank you. Really, this is—"

"Don't thank me. There is plenty for everyone."

For now, your mind chides, but you swallow the thought while scarfing down the meal you pretend is London's finest sushi.

Once everyone is ready, you head to the back of the truck, expecting an awkward encounter with Kyle, only to find Ghost sitting there beside the kayak, hands relaxed behind his head.

"What are you doing?"

"Needed a break from driving."

You glance at the front to see that Price is behind the wheel, and Kyle is in the passenger side. In a way, you're relieved. You breathe through your nose and hoist yourself up. The bumpy ride is quiet at first. His body takes up space so that each pothole nudges your shoulder or knee against his. The morning ages. You swear you can see there coast at one point, but it must be your imagination, because the passing sign reads Halstead.

"You really need to work on lying better."

The brash accent registers low against the hum of the engine, and his eyes are closed when you look over. He is leaned back, one leg straight and one bent, seeming to enjoy the seat more than you are.

"Fine. I'm bad at lying."

"Care to share the truth, then?"

He needn't elaborate for you to know what he is referring to. "I was...I was upset because I found out my knife—the one I took from the base—belonged to Kyle's brother."

His brow ticks.

You continue, "But he actually gave it to Soap, and I—I found his dog tag on a skeleton. John MacTavish. You were friends with him, weren't you?"

His eyes open, but they are too murky to decipher from just his profile. His jaw flexes. "I wasn't a man with friends, Twix."

"You know what I mean."

There is a pause, and then, "He was a sergeant under my command. A good man. Grating, at times. But good."

"Well, I'm sorry he didn't make it. If you of all people say he was a good guy, then he really must've been."

He hums in agreement. Thoughtful. Then—two gloved fingers touch your jaw, turning your eyes to his. "You are still lying, and still bad at it."

You wet your lips. "I wasn't—"

"Help!"

Ghost drops your chin and grabs the gun from his waist.

Your eyes flash around at the sound of a second plea. There is a man at the side of the road, leg draped in bloodied bandages, but there isn't a chance for you to register more of him when the truck takes a sudden, sharp left down a side street and you brace yourself by grabbing the edge with both arms. The small city-scape whirls by in a blur. Ghost swears under his breath, scanning the area as he bends on one knee and keeps the gun secure in his grip. Confused, you grab his arm.

"That man was injured."

His voice is harsh and alert. "He has fucking friends somewhere here. He was just trying to—"

A shattering sound. An audible pop. You're thrown against the truck bed even harder this time as it skids across the street, nearly slamming into a flipped-over car. Ghost covers you, the weight of him keeping you from flying out. The truck swerves to a halt. Everything is black until his weight lifts. He barks an order, jumps out, and pulls you with him.

Pressed against the side of the truck, the world becomes consumed by loud sounds and the distinct smell of gunpowder. Ghost rips open the passenger door and urgently pulls Blue, Ari, and Nereida out, ordering them to keep low. From the other side, you hear Price and Kyle shouting, followed by another series of gunshots.

#simon ghost riley x you #ghost #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod #simon ghost riley #zombie apocolypse au

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feralforfrank · 9 months ago

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task force 141 & instagram posts (while on leave).

TF141 X FEM!READER

cw pics r used for aesthetic purposes. might be a bit OOC in the comments. i tried. NON-DESCRIPTIVE READER.

a/n i blew off studying for this 😋

masterlist

KYLE "GAZ" GARRICK / boyfriend!gaz

kyle_garrick

liked by yourusername, pricejohn6, 241 others.

tagged yourusername

kyle_garrick puerto rico with the missus 🇵🇷

view all comments

yourusername heyyyy *flirting hardcore* 😍😍😍

> kyle_garrick yourusername i have a girlfriend.

yourusername we should go cycling again!

> kyle_garrick yourusername Watching you struggling up the hill is so fun. Yes, we absolutely should!

> johnny.tavish kyle_garrick Wish I'd bin there tsee tha!!!!!

> kyle_garrick johnny.tavish I got it on video, mate! 😁

> yourusername kyle_garrick HEY!!!!!!!????

pricejohn6 Looks nice. Have fun.

> kyle_garrick pricejohn6 Thank you, Sir!

> ghost0895 kyle_garrick Suck up.

> yourusername ghost0895 AHAHAHAHAH

—

JOHN "BRAVO 6" PRICE / older boyfriend!price

yourusername

liked by johnny.tavish, pricejohn6, ghost0895, and 132 others.

yourusername hubbie took me to venice :)

view all comments

yourusername kyle_garrick i got him to wear the shirt!!!!!

> kyle_garrick yourusername HAHAHAHAHA, he looks GREAT!

pricejohn6 MY pretty girl ❤️

> yourusername pricejohn6 thank you for taking me, love 😊💓

johnny.tavish YE GIT MARRIET?????

> yourusername johnny.tavish NO DOOFUS. (i wish) (soon, i hope) (not yet)

ghost0895 Sick of this joke. Venice looks nice, though ... 😒

> yourusername ghost0895 sassy simon 😆 me likey sassy simon.

> ghost0895 yourusername 🙄🙄🙄 just get married already.

yourfriend venice looks incredible! have a plate of bigoli in salsa for me 🤤

liked by yourusername

—

JOHNNY "SOAP" MACTAVISH / boyfriend!soap

yourusername

liked by ghost0895, johnny.tavish, pricejohn6, and 98 others.

tagged johnny.tavish

yourusername bro said he knew a spot and took me to scotland to meet his fam 😵

johnny.tavish they loved ye, bonnie lassie

> yourusername johnny.tavish your family is so nice 🥹 I WANNA GO BACK!!!!!

ghost0895 i see you've met the mactavishes

> yourusername ghost0895 such a lovey bunch, they are!

kyle_garrick scotland looks bloody incredible!

> yourusername kyle_garrick IT IS IT IS IT IS!!!!! 🤩🤩🤩

pricejohn6 Delightful pictures.

> yourusername pricejohn6 thanks, captain price :)

yourfriend SO jealous of you! hope you had a lovely time!!!

liked by yourusername

—

SIMON "GHOST" RILEY / boyfriend!ghost

yourusername

liked by johnny.tavish, ghost0895, yourfriend, and 148 others.

tagged ghost0895

yourusername lover boy & me in manchester !!!!

ghost0895 youre cute

> yourusername ghost0895 love u si 💘

kyle_garrick you got him to take pictures with you!?!?!?

> yourusername kyle_garrick half of them have been taken in secret 🤭🤭🤭🤭

> ghost0895 yourusername 😑

johnny.tavish when can i meet wee joe

> ghost0895 johnny.tavish Never.

> yourusername johnny.tavish come over whenever!!!!! this kitty loves people!

> kyle_garrick yourusername I want in too!

yourfriend you're in manchester!?!?! we should meet up!!

> yourusername yourfriend i'll def text you! 💞

— all pictures were taken from pinterest. for aesthetic purposes only.

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drgnflyteabox · 5 months ago

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postcards from the coast [2]

previous || part two -> linens || part three -> tbd

series masterlist

pairing: kyle 'gaz' garrick / single mom!reader summary: kyle looks for you, then finds you tags/warnings: grief, less angst but still there, depression, non-creepy stalking, judgmental people, anxiety, previous injuries, insomnia, don't accept rides from strange men ladies and theydies, unless it's gaz then feel free<3 w.c: 1.2k

"Can I get a red-eye?"

Sleep has been difficult lately. Evasive. He sometimes goes through insomniac phases, where no amount of jogging or calisthenics practice or mental exercise helps. It's pure, restless energy.

Before, he might've taken himself to a bar, found a pretty girl to fuck and ease the buzzing under his skin. Now it's too painful - too much of a reminder of post-mission decompressing with the team. Sat in a circle booth, slapping each other on the back as they left, the smell of cigar-smoke and perfume.

Not that he'd be able to here, anyway. The town is too small, too isolated. There's hardly a main street, just a strip with bare necessities vaguely at the center of rolling hill country pock-marked with bleached white cottages and surrounded by cold ocean on all sides.

Peaceful, sometimes. Unbearable, mostly.

"Sure, any milk or sugar?"

"No, that's alright, thank you." He's been here every day, mixing a caffeine fix with his ongoing search for you. Curiosity and boredom, he tells himself. The product of so many sudden life changes - the end of their last mission, Johnny's passing. He just needs something else to focus on, something soft and wide-eyed.

At least the coffee is good.

The next time he sees you, it's in passing. Driving out of town to the post office to pick up a gift from his sister.

You're holding a toddler by both arms, their feet on yours, walking them up the steps toward the local library. Another long skirt, wimpling softly in the breeze. There's a smile on your face as you watch the child walk with you.

It almost feels like a missed opportunity - like he should turn back. But the post office closes in a couple hours and it takes nearly that long to get there, so Kyle elects to be patient.

You're there every evening. From five o'clock until closing at eight, you sit at the same window and alternate reading a massive tome and babbling back at your baby, who's sitting on a wooden high-chair.

The librarian makes rounds just to say hello to the two of you, pinching cheeks and ooing and aweing.

"And how old is she again?" She whispers mindfully. Her nametag says Nettie and she's a kindly-looking old woman, bent a little from years of work but sturdy as a mast in a storm.

"Turning two soon," you whisper back. Neither of you have any idea he's there yet, browsing the books as a cover to peek through the shelf at you. "She's a taurus."

"Just about to hit the terrible twos!" Nettie laughs.

"Yep," you laugh with her, but there's something there. A sheepishness. Embarrassment? Your expression is almost a grimace, from what he doesn't know. He wants to, though. Looks through the peephole and lets his chest fill with something other than grief for just a moment.

"And the father? Not a fan of reading?" She probably means well, but your face goes from vaguely uncomfortable to something like a deer in the headlights.

"Oh, um," you're floundering, but Nettie is too busy stroking a wrinkled hand over your girls head. "He's not in the picture."

Not in the picture? If Kyle had felt any kind of guilt for eavesdropping, it's overshadowed by that information. Best stake-out of his career to-date.

You shrink a little when Nettie yanks her hand back, frowning. He can tell judgement and prejudice when he sees it - experience and a keen eye. Must be hard being a single mom.

Resigned - that's the look. Pained and embarrassed and resigned.

"Right. Well," Nettie's sensible leather shoes clack against the floor. You don't watch her go, your hand is reaching into your bag for a tiny knit hat.

Fuck, you're leaving.

As you gather your things - book, coat, bags, baby - he tucks himself into the shelf, positioned still as a sniper, to-

"Ouch!" Your voice cuts through the quiet of the library. Kyle flounders, caught off guard for once. He'd only gently bumped into you to make it look like an accident, like something out of a rom-com. Girls liked that, usually.

But instead of looking up at him with surprise, you close your eyes and shy away from him, shoulders coming up defensively - you can't reach your arm, not with a baby on your hip, but it's obvious you're in pain.

"Are you okay?" You look to him, wincing still. You're asking him if he's okay? Heat creeps into his cheeks, warming him with regret.

"I'm good, I'm good," he says quickly. "Sorry about that, love, didn't see you there."

"That's okay," you readjust, arm limp at your side. Your heavy bags hang off of it, but there's nothing you can do with the baby on your hip.

"Let me get those," there's no time for you to reject his offer; he's too quick. The bags are heavy - no doubt there are more books and a baby go-bag. This close, you smell powdery soft like linen sheets and laundry dried outside.

"It's the least I can do," he's trying to be casual about it, lest he scare you off. Holds the door open, notices while you step out that your daughter looks just like you.

"Thank you, you didn't have to," you look down. How'd you hurt your arm? He knows he didn't hurt you - not like that, at least. Not enough to warrant such a reaction.

"Of course I did, didn't mean to get'cha so hard," his head swivels. There are only two cars in the parking lot. "Can I get these in your car?"

"Oh, I walked, that's okay," you reach to take the bags back, but he pulls away.

"I can't let you walk home, please- let me be a gentleman and give you a ride," he knows it's a long shot. Neither of you have exchanged names, neither of you are locals. He's tried to make himself look as approachable as possible; head tilted down, brown eyes imploring, palms out even with your bags in one hand, but it's a gamble.

There's natural suspicion and hesitation, your eyes looking side-to-side, but you nod with a hesitant smile after a moment. It's hard to keep the grin down, but he manages it up until you're tucked in his passenger seat and he's putting your bags in the back of his car.

"My name is Kyle, by the way," he puts his keys in the ignition, turns them. Pretends not to notice how you sink into the seat, eyes drooping, holding your daughter on your lap. It's not safe, but it's a country road and he promised to drive slow on the way.

You tell him your name. It's pretty, fitting. He wonders again about you - who left you like this? Alone, hurt, tired, trusting a stranger to drive you home. If he were your man, he'd never let you be put in a position like that.

The cottage you're renting is tiny, a glorified shack, rented as a cottage for tourists.

"There you are," he murmurs, trying not to startle you. "Need help getting in?"

"Hm?" You've been staring out the window. "Sorry! No, I'm alright, thank you again for the ride. Josie and I appreciate it."

Josie. It fits her, fits you. His eyes crinkle at the corners.

There's not a chance he lets you get the bags out yourself, and once you're appropriately sent off to your door, he sits and waits for a moment. Makes sure you get inside. Feels something loosen in his chest.

#cod x reader #cod mw2 #task force 141 #141 x reader #drgnfly writes #cod gaz #gaz call of duty #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz garrick #gaz cod #honestly not super proud of this one but #i've been feeling stuck lately so feels good to get it out #postcards from the coast

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dr-lizortecho · 2 years ago

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Top 10 favorite ships involving POC in 10 different fandoms

I was tagged by @childofsquidward thanks <3

1) Liz Ortecho/Max Evans (Roswell New Mexico) my otp, the loves of my life, I’m sorry I’ll shut up now

also cheating cause I can (Liz Ortecho/Max Evans/Kyle Valenti)

2) Bonnie Bennett/Caroline Forbes/Elena Gilbert (The Vampire Diaries)

3) Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood (the Mortal Instruements)

4) Aisha/Grey (Fate the Winx Saga)

5) Inej Ghafa/Kaz Brekker (Shadow and Bone)

6) Gwen/Morgana (Merlin)

7) Flo Bones/George Karim (Lockwood and Co.)

couldn’t find a gif I liked :( meaning I should gif more of them tbh

8) Eleanor Shellstrop/Tahani Al-Jamil (the Good Place)

9) Emma Hill/Charlie Nicoletti (The Company You Keep)

10) Simon Basset/Daphne Bridgerton (Bridgerton)

no pressure tags @ajna-eye-cogitations @lesbianmaxevans @crepuscularqueens @cryoverkiltmilk @ladynox @beautifulcheat @thesquidkid @voidsteffy and literally anyone who wants to <3

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beatrice-otter · 11 months ago

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Sedoretu Exchange recs

I have finally, over a month after the collection was revealed, had both the time AND the brain space to read through the entire collection. If it weren't sedoretuex, I would probably have given up, but there aren't that many sedoretu fic out there so I wanted to savor what was just written.

First, I received an amazing DS9 fic by violet_pencil that does SUCH interesting worldbuilding.

Bread and Roses (19535 words) by violet_pencil Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Kira Nerys/Miles O'Brien, Keiko O'Brien & Miles O'Brien, Bareil Antos & Kira Nerys, Bareil Antos/Keiko O'Brien, Bareil Antos/Kira Nerys/Keiko O'Brien/Miles O'Brien, Kira Nerys/Keiko O'Brien/Miles O'Brien Additional Tags: Episode: s01e01-02 Emissary, Bajoran Culture (Star Trek), Canon Rewrite, Episode: s01e13 Battle Lines (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine), Episode: s01e20 In the Hands of the Prophets, Culture Shock, POV Kira Nerys, Season/Series 01, Kira Nerys has PTSD, Alien Cultural Differences, Worldbuilding, Marriage, Alternate Universe - Sedoretu Marriage Series: Part 2 of violet's star trek fusions & crossovers Summary:

"Marriage is the greatest adventure of them all. It's filled with pitfalls and setbacks and mistakes, but it's a journey worth taking." — Miles O'Brien, "Armageddon Game"

Hearts starve as well as bodies: Give us Bread, but give us Roses. — James Oppenheim, "Bread and Roses"

Other fics I loved:

Any Four Walls (11952 words) by tielan Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Pepper Potts & Steve Rogers, Maria Hill/Steve Rogers, Maria Hill/Pepper Potts, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Maria Hill & Tony Stark, Maria Hill/Pepper Potts/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark Additional Tags: Sedoretu, Developing Relationship, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-ish Summary:

“I thought we should probably have a discussion,” Tony says blithely. “About futures and pasts and all that.” As always, tielan does an amazing job of handling the characters with insight and grace.

A Kryptonian Marriage (2493 words) by Chromatographic Fandom: DCU (Comics) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Clark Kent/Selina Kyle/Lois Lane/Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent/Lois Lane Characters: Lois Lane, Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne, Selina Kyle Additional Tags: Sedoretu, Pre-Relationship, but it's gonna happen, Lois Lane-centric, on screen Clark/Lois, Kryptonian World Building, For funsies, Krypton had moieties, and sedoretus, but Earth does not, Timeline What Timeline Summary:

Lois loves Clark - all of Clark, and she'll show it to him in every way that she can.

Or: Earth doesn't have moieties, and sedoretus - but Krypton did.

Interesting worldbuilding, and I love Lois' care for Clark and his culture

Four, for Four Decades (9624 words) by blueyeti Fandom: James Bond (Craig Movies), The Old Guard (Movie 2020) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: James Bond/M | Olivia Mansfield, Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Booker | Sebastien le Livre, Andy | Andromache of Scythia/James Bond/Booker | Sebastien le Livre/M | Olivia Mansfield Characters: M | Olivia Mansfield, James Bond, Andy | Andromache of Scythia, Booker | Sebastien le Livre Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Behavior, Sedoretu, Sedoretu politics, Historical, Immortality, Immortal James Bond, Worldbuilding Series: Part 1 of Bond & The Old Guard Sedoretu Summary:

In November, 1950, James Bond died on M's orders. He came back.

Great explanation for why James Bond has kept going on for so long ...

#fic rec #james bond #mcu #superman #deep space nine

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klanceyuri · 1 year ago

Text

Not Many Chances

Summary: Kyle really doesn't know what to expect from Kenny after he arrives in the middle of a snow storm, although, Kenny being armed with high quality chocolates from god knows where was not on his list of possibilities

Warnings: Swearing, nausea, check Ao3 port for full tags

Authors Note: It has been under a month since I started watching South Park, yet here I am, writing K2 already cause they're my favs. @bree-sae you're the south park mutual, by rights I simply must subject you to it. Anyways! If ya'll enjoyed maybe consider dropping a reblog or checking out the Ao3 port and leaving a comment.

An obnoxiously loud knock alerted Kyle from where he sat in the living room. He reluctantly pulled himself off of the couch and made his way to the door. He tugged on his hat after a brief glance outside to find the snow was still in the torrential phase of the storm. He tugged the zipper of his jacket up before tugging open the door, shock washed over him at the sight.

Kenny, outside, in a snow storm, with his hood down. He's visibly shivering and just about every inch of his face is red with the chills biting at him. He gives a weak, "Hi," before Kyle ushers him in and slams the door shut. A small amount of snow had coated the doormat in what must've been record time.

"Dude what the fuck were you doing out there?!" Kyle exclaimed. The worry he exhibited didn't seep into his voice as much as his expression and the way he held himself.

Kenny shrugged. He kicked off his boots, "Delivery," He pulled off his backpack and tossed it over to the couch. It landed a couple inches short.

"Why did you have your hood down?" Kyle asked, trying to force his tone even as he brought hands to rest at Kennys face. His skin was cold, impossibly so (he was glad his face was already red), "You could get frostbite man."

"I know," Kenny said, "Don't care," He pulled off his parka and hung it up at the door.

Kyle took a deep breath, "I care, and you should to- Kenny I don't know what makes you think you're invincible but I'd hate to see you die."

Kenny has to refrain from scoffing at the notions of dying. He's done it hundreds, if not thousands of times. What's one more death on the pile?

"I'll go make some tea," Kyle said, turning to head to the kitchen.

"I'm fine," Kenny said.

"You're fucking freezing, you have enough snow in your hair to build a sled hill," Kyle said, to accentuate his point he plucked a clump of snow from Kennys hair. Then he grabbed another, and another, damp hair tangled just a bit, "I'm making tea."

"You don't have too," Kenny said, raising Kyles hand from his hair. He holds on for a little bit too long, as though he was memorizing each curve with gloved hands. He didn't move his hand against Kyles until he was letting go, "You'd just be wasting it."

"Idiot," was all Kyle could produce in protest to Kennys statement, "I'm making you tea and you're having some whether you like it or not."

"Can't make me drink it," Kenny countered with, smirking a cat like smirk.

"Watch me," Kyle snarled out, pressing a finger to Kennys chest as he spoke.

The McCormicks heart rate doubled in a second, and only for a moment. But he certainly felt tingly all over at the tone and the motion accompanying it. He swallowed thickly as he tried to find the words trapped in his throat. Nothing came out and he wished so desperately he had his parka on to fully shield his sense of self.

Kyle took a step back, "What type do you want?"

Kenny shrugged, "Sleepy Time...?" It sounded more like a question than an answer.

"I'll see if we have any," Kyle said, as calmly as he could manage before taking a turn to the kitchen leaving Kenny stunned in the front hall.

He shook the snow from his hair to the best of his ability, trying to get as much of it on the mat as he could. Jeez his hair was wet, and cold, so were his fingers. He gives a bemused hum as he makes his way to the couch, dropping down and crossing one leg over the other as he waits impatiently. He reaches over the edge and grabs at his backpack, reaching in and yanking out a small box.

He spent so long scrounging for cash to buy some of the actually good stuff, not the cheap No Name stuff. He barely got a chance to even have the cheap stuff with the cash his family managed to come by going towards real food. But on the random chance he found a twenty dollar bill lying around he always bought something frivolous with it. The last time he actually spent the coins and cash he found around South Park was months ago, he only decided to save up and buy the good stuff after getting an impossibly small taste of high quality anything. He doesn't even remember what it was, all that he remembers is the absolute richness of the flavor rolling around his mouth.

His nails threaten to tear open the tape on the small box of chocolates, only twelve. He's never had the brand personally, but every cashier said it was the best, although he did get some weird looks for asking if its kosher. He had to ask well over three people to find out the answer, it was yes- if it wasn't he had no clue what else to do. He pressed in on the tape just a little bit more, Kyle wouldn't notice one missing chocolate, would he?

"We're out of sleepy time tea!"

Kyles exclamation snaps Kenny from his thoughts in instant and he's beyond glad that it did. He almost messed up his gift, almost indulged, he doesn't deserve that shit. He's too poor to have such a treat, Kyle on the other hand? He isn't, he's probably had the brand a hundred times over and this stupid little gift is nothing. He isn't even out, it'd just be seen as a friendly gesture if it was seen as anything at all. This dogshit ass tier attempt at courting Kyle of all people, this garbage idea of getting chocolates with money he hadn't even earned himself.

"I think we have some raspberry stuff!"

This time his voice barely dragged Kenny out of his stupor, he did catch the footsteps and stuff the box behind his back. Kyle leaned on the backrest of the couch, one arm crossed over the other. He rested his head on his arms and gave a warm smile that made Kenny feel all oozy and gooey inside.

"So," Kyle begins, voice somewhat a purr. He rolled the letters even though they aren't rollable letters, "What's the delivery that you mentioned?"

"It doesn't matter," Kenny managed to get out defensively.

Kyle vaulted himself over the back of the couch, he placed a hand on either side of Kennys hips. He simply reveled in the slightest twitch of Kennys expression, "Really? Cause if it doesn't matter then I doubt you'd make it a point to trek through a snow storm."

Kenny gave a drawn out groan of annoyance before holding out the small box of Lindor chocolates. Kyle took them from his hands, "I got you some chocolate."

"Dude, this shit is like, expensive," Kyle said as he rotated the box in his hand, even shaking it to make sure it actually had chocolates. He didn't even want to open it, he knew they were safe to eat, but he still held hesitance. He inched back and sat up, knees bent underneath him.

"I know," Kenny said, pushing himself a little bit more upright, "I've been saving up for a bit."

"You're sure that I can have them?" Kyle asked, he was still reeling over the fact that Kenny managed enough cash to buy brand name chocolate. Let alone this brand, expensive, tasty, there wasn't even a fifty percent off sticker on it.

And he's offering it to Kyle.

"I bought them for you," Kenny answered with, "Like, if the cashiers were lying about them being kosher we can trash them or whatever, I totally get that."

"No they got deemed kosher a while back," Kyle said, tugging his thumb nail along the tape and tearing it open, "I'm just shocked you'd get them for me."

Kenny paused, carefully stepping over his next words. Kyle was already out, everyone already knew he was queer (even Cartman). But Kenny? Kenny was still in the comfort of a metaphorical closet, "I don't usually have enough to give gifts, I had some extra cash, thought I might do something nice."

Kyle gives a hum as he pops open the box and unwraps a chocolate, "Thanks man."

"Your welcome," Kenny answered with reflexively.

He stared when Kyle ate the chocolate, it looked so fucking good, like, he'd never been so entranced over such a small morsel. But this one little chocolate had him under the worlds stupidest spell, or maybe it was Kyle. One of the two, the fluid motions as he unwrapped a second chocolate and popped it into his mouth- Kenny could practically smell the sweetness. Was his mouth watering? Maybe just a bit, who could blame him with how much the packaging amped up the quality. And how pleased Kyle looked indulging in just a few chocolates, he looked absolutely fucking euphoric.

Then he glanced over to Kenny who quickly stared to the floor instead.

"Were you staring?" Kyle asked gently, a teasing lilt to his tone.

Kenny didn't respond for a moment, "A bit, looks tasty."

"Have you ever had chocolate?" Kyle asked.

Kenny scoffed, "Obviously, who hasn't? I've just never had much name brand stuff."

"Do you want one?" Kyle offered.

Kenny nodded, then shook his head, "I shouldn't, they're yours, I'm like, I'm too poor for shit that good."

Kyle pushed the box over to Kenny who pushed it back, "Dude, if you want one have one," He edged a little bit closer to Kenny.

"I don't deserve it man, don't even wanna touch it," Kenny said as he backed further into the armrest, it jutted into the small of his back.

Kyle fell back and Kenny couldn't help but study his expression as the red head carefully thought over his plan of actions. He was supposed to stay silent when Kyle was thinking. He'd break his focus. He'd ruin his mood. He did not care.

"I just, it's your chocolate man- expensive chocolate. Too expensive for someone like me-" Kenny further explained.

"Kenny, shut up," Kyle snapped, not even glancing to face Kenny, and Kenny did exactly as told.

He watched with rapt attention as Kyle grabbed another chocolate and unwrapped it, tugging each end taut and scrapping the plastic cover. He didn't eat it, instead he turned to face Kenny once more, chocolate held between two fingers.

"Open wide," Kyle instructed, the bluntness of his words shocked Kenny more than anything.

"What?" Was all he could manage.

"Open. Wide. Trust me," Kyle said, the chocolate was starting to melt in his grip.

Kenny opened his mouth just a bit, "I will bite."

"Good," Came Kyles answer, spilling so fluidly it was as though he wasn't even thinking.

Kenny froze up entirely, even more so when a finger slipped past his lips and propped open his jaw just a bit more. He didn't dare move, even when one of the expensive and high quality chocolates he bought for Kyle was placed on his tongue. All he could do was focus on the soft flavor, Kyle leaned back and as much as Kenny had intended for those chocolates to be for Kyle he wouldn't dare spit it out. He'd been taught not to waste food, especially not fancy and pricey food, instead he closed his mouth and chewed.

He's pretty sure this is what sex feels like.

The flavor bursts across his tongue and oh god it's amazing, pure euphoria shoots through every nerve of his body as he chews. That delectable cocoa flavor coating every centimeter of his mouth and yeah, yeah it hurt a bit when it hit a cavity. But it was worth it, it was so worth it. He could sit and eat these all day long, he's shaking in his spot a little bit because he's never tried it before and he gets it. He gets why people pay big money for small amounts of good food instead of bulk, he didn't really understand it until right now.

Is he tearing up? Fuck he does not care if he's tearing up and that he's flapping his hands a little bit. He swallows thickly and the sweetness lingers on his tongue as he runs it along his teeth and the inside of his cheek. He finally opens his eyes and sees that Kyle is simply staring at him with a saccharine and sly smirk, it suits him. Kenny is too caught in the euphoria of the velvety flavor coating the insides of his mouth to think straight.

His tongue flicks out to lap at his lips for the desperate attempt at getting more of that chocolatey flavor. The words that come out do not look good with his action, "You look really fucking good Kyle, when you grin like that."

Kyles expression flat-lines in a second, red shooting to his face as he goes through the words he just heard.

Kenny doesn't even realize what he's said until it's to late to take it back. His eyes widen just a bit as his words sink in, "I didn't mean to say that."

"I, you, can you repeat that?" Kyle asked, trying to voice his words loud enough for Kenny to hear no matter how much he wanted to whisper.

"You look, you look hot when you grin," Kenny said despite the words coming up in a tangle of thorny roses being torn from his psyche. He fucked up, he fucked up big time, he just outed himself to Kyle completely by accident. And he did so by saying he looks hot- Kenny really wishes he could actually die of embarrassment right now, it would be far from the stupidest of deaths.

"Dude," Kyle began with, "That's sorta gay."

"You're one to talk, you're out of the closet and you kissed Cartman under the mistletoe," Kenny spat back with defensively.

"It was one time," Kyle said as he rolled his eyes, "I wish I hadn't."

"I wish I hadn't seen it happen," Kenny answered with.

"But even before I was out you never said I looked good, is this a new discovery? Or something else?" Kyle teased as he picked up another chocolate, the accusation had Kenny absolutely paralyzed.

Oh god. He was fucked. He had two, no, three choices. Number one: run. Number two: come clean. Number three: run. He could just push open the doors of the closet fully, or try and play it off as bro stuff.

"I mean, I just thought you'd already know," Kenny said, forcing down the small crack in his voice, "You're always good looking, and Stan too, Craig and Tweek as well- but that's just, what bros say."

Kyle quirked a brow, "Oh really?"

"Really," Kenny said, speaking far too fast for it to be true.

His eyes latched onto the chocolate in Kyles hand, shiny red wrapper still in tact and plastic crinkling as Kyle undid it. Slowly, his motions tantalizing as he unwrapped the small morsel of rich and delectable chocolate. He dropped the wrapper with little care to his motions, that sly grin on his face that had Kenny so helplessly paralyzed.

"Want another chocolate?" Kyle asked.

Kenny nodded, "I've already had my share though."

"We could share one," Kyle offered.

"Too small to split it," Kenny said, he was lying, he just didn't want to eat more then welcome.

"I know a couple good ways we could split it, if you trust me to just do it," Kyle said, switching the hand he held the chocolate in, "You trust me with yourself don't you?"

A raw sense of intimacy laces the string of words but Kenny completely ignores it as he nods, "Totally man."

"Cool," Kyle said before promptly taking a bite of the chocolate, then another. He just let it melt in his mouth as Kenny stared in shock.

"I thought I was getting some of that," Kenny said as Kyle edged closer.

"You are," Kyle answered with and Kenny could smell the sweetness of the chocolate on his breath, it was intoxicating.

Kenny gave a small sound as Kyle placed a hand on either side of him, pressing his knees at Kennys hips. He's short circuiting and he can't produce a single word, none of them are coming to mind at that. All he's doing is staring up helplessly at Kyle like a deer in headlights.

"Do you trust me?" Kyle asked once more, voice soft and smooth, a rich honey sweetness on his tone.

And Kenny couldn't help but nod, he'd do anything if Kyle spoke to him like that. So sweetly, so perfectly, he smelt like chocolate, where his arms brushed against Kenny it was molten lava. He pressed his knees a little bit harder against Kennys hips and it felt like electricity, sparks running through him. Kennys pretty sure nothing could top this, right here. The almost glazed over look in Kyles eyes, the pressure at hips- his heart is beating so fast he wouldn't be shocked if it burst from his chest.

And then Kyle kissed him, he barely took note of how fast the gap closed. He can't even react, he isn't even sure how he's supposed to react at that. All he does is freeze, he doesn't move until that rich chocolatey flavor graces the tip of his tongue. Somehow a timidness lingers on his motions, every little thing he's cautious about even though he could just end up dying and Kyle would forget the entire encounter.

He doesn't want that though, for once in his cursed life he wants to make it through the day. He brings his hands to rest at the small of Kyles back, sliding his fingers briefly under the hem of his shirt. He can't keep his open and he's pretty sure it's because he's scared that if he does it's gonna be someone else. He doesn't want it to be someone else, he really doesn't, especially with that delectable cocoa coating every square inch of his mouth every time Kyle pushes a bit further into the moment. He whimpers when Kyle pulls back, and it's only for a second that he let's his eyes flutter open and he swears the sight alone is enough to kill him. But it doesn't, his heart keeps beating with that liquid mercury heat washing over every nerve in his body at the sight of Kyles saccharine smirk.

"So," Kyle begins softly, "Hows the chocolate?"

Kenny still can't speak even though his mouth is hanging open in slight shock.

Kyles gives a light laugh, a perfect, angelic laugh, "C'mon man, where's your words?"

"I," Kenny barely manages to croak out, "Chocolate was fucking good."

"Want some more?" Kyle taunted, already reaching for another chocolate. His smirk betrayed how serious he was about sharing another one.

Kenny shook his head, "I'll pass."

"Okay," Kyle said, dropping the chocolate and pushing off Kennys hands before sitting up and falling back on the couch. He reached for the TV remote, "Wanna watch some TV?"

"I'm good, I gotta go feed Cartmans cat," Kenny managed to get out stiffly, the euphoria finally wearing down leaving him in terror. He fucked up, he completely and utterly fucked up, word gets out and he is ruined. Forever. He'll be absolutely ruined forever.

"You good man?" Kyle asked gently, giving Kenny the most empathetic look he could manage. He was still riding the high of kissing his best friend and maybe long time crush.

Kenny nodded as he stood up, his knees felt weak, "Yeah, perfectly fine," His stomach was turning impossibly fast and he can already feel that twisting sensation at the pit, "Would you rather I hurl in your toilet or on the lawn?"

Kyle was on his feet in a second and helping the McCormick over to the stairs and up them. He looked sea sick, like he's on a boat for the first time in his life and really disagreeing with the way they work. He's clutching his stomach as he makes his way to drop down on the floor, back pressed against the side of the bathtub. He tilts his head back to stare up at the fluorescent light, knees hitched and brought to his chest.

Kyle sits down beside him, staring at the floor in shame, how could he dare be so bold? What an idiot! Thinking that Kenny could possibly be into him, he's ramrod straight and Kyle decided that going for a kiss would be worth it. Using really good chocolate as bait at that, while ingenious, maybe a little bit cruel to use against Kenny. He hesitantly places a hand on his friends back and rubs circles on it.

"Sorry," Kyle got out quietly, "I should not have done that."

"It's fine," Kenny managed to get out, "Really, it's fine."

"Dude, I fucking baited you with chocolate to try and get a kiss," Kyle said, sounding exasperated but only with himself, "That is not fine."

"My fault that I went for it," Kenny said, he gave a full body shudder as another wave of nausea hit him.

"You're not even queer man," Kyle said, he gave a heavy sigh, "And now you're here, on the verge of throwing up because I kissed you."

Kenny pursed his lips before speaking, "I am queer, I just, didn't want anyone to know yet," He barely speaks loud enough for Kenny to hear.

Kyle paused, "Oh, yeah I guess you would've pushed me off if you weren't."

"Yeah man," Kenny said, giving a weak laugh as he spoke, "We aren't, we aren't going to tell anyone about that, right?" Fear laced his voice and the notions alone made him feel even worse.

"Of course not," Kyle said and Kenny visibly relaxed, every muscle of his body dropping tensions just a bit.

"Thanks," Kenny got out quietly, he tapped his feet against the floor, "Could you do it again?"

"Do what man?" Kyle asked.

"Kiss, could we like, do it again?" Kenny asked, nervousness seeped into his voice and he hated it. He could talk about sex in the most graphic detail known to mankind without stuttering even once or getting flustered in the slightest. But asking for a kiss? That's what kills his charisma.

Kyle gives a hum, "Maybe after you figure out if you're gonna vomit, unlike some people I find regurgitated chocolate to be nasty."

Kenny gives a laugh, "Fucking nasty."

"Super nasty," Kyle countered with, grin on his face.

"The nastiest of them all," Kenny answered without fail.

#sp k2 #south park k2 #kyle x kenny #kenny x kyle #south park #kenny mccormick #kyle broflovski

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squishykitty825 · 6 months ago

Text

S: Shadow - Livingston

Q: Question - Taylor Swift (I nearly screwed myself over with this letter 😂)

U: Uprising - Muse

I: I was made for lovin’ you - Kiss (or YUNGBLUD)

S: Skin of a saint - Connor Kauffman

H: Hill I will die on - Alec Benjamin

Y: You should be sad - Halsey

K: King of the world - Young rising sons

I: I don’t care - Fall out boy

T: Two black Cadillacs - Carrie Underwood

T: Tidal wave - Kyle.

Y: Young and beautiful - Lana Del Rey

Open tags <3

rules: pick a song for each letter of your url and tag that many people (if you can):

tagged by @sapphire-to-the-rain !!

cell block tango

little lotte / the mirror

eat your young

aristos achaion

ruler of my heart

curious

loveless

o’ icarus

uninvited

death respect

lower one’s eyes

everything goes on

smiling

sign of the times

stop this flame

killer queen

yume no kanata

i’m not even going to try to tag my url lmao

@sneebl @glcive @pinkrosylux @catinasink + open

#this is fun #I don’t usually like these #but I love sharing music #tag games #tag game #thanks for the tag

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thatspookyagent · 3 years ago

Note

hey! i was just rewatching ahs coven and was thinking about how right your take on madison montgomery is. you were right and always have been right. honestly this season is so crusty like i have never seen a show be so racist while simultaneously attempting to communicate an anti racist message. in theory the idea of the season sounds great but in practice it's just white feminism. but it was ryan murphy so idk why i expected anything better honestly.

Mmm hmm. And tbh I think the racism doesn't get talked about as much as it should. But on the flip side, I don't think the fandom can handle that conversation either.

Like it used to be my favorite but tbh I don't even recall why. Now I utterly and completely loathe the entire season. Like sure there's racism in other seasons but Coven takes the cake. As a Black viewer, it's so obvious to me that Ryan Murphy didn't include any Black people in his planning or within the writing of the season. He exploited us. Our pain. Our entire community. The whole season is literally capitalization off of Black pain.

And what makes it worse is that there's a r*pe storyline that's handled so badly, it's easily one of the biggest reasons I'd never rewatch that entire season. There's just so much shit in there that makes me fume and I don't want to even deal with it cause I know that Ryan Murphy has already gotten his money in his pocket from it and more.

Once you start to use themes like r*pe and racism for shock factor, in order to capitalize off both, with like zero regard for how very much REAL those two things are, you're already on a slippery slope. I can't speak much personally on the r*pe matter, but just know that it's the reason I never wrote anything remotely smutty for Kyle in general. Also there was a post I made announcing that, and the entire fandom thought that it was an opportunity to like reblog my shit with their opinions on Kyle's trauma via tags and it was easily one of THE worst fandom experiences I ever had but that's a different story.

Now for racism part. It screams written by white people. It screams performative. And it's exploitive. It gives white people a pat on the back for not being racist, meanwhile the entire show, main culprit character being Fiona Goode, is constantly endangering the ONLY Black witch in the entire coven. Also the way the fandom uses "quirky" moments from the show that's racist, for their gifsets and one liners is hella inconsiderate. Madison's racism is never mentioned and is always swept under the rug cause white women will always get away with that kind of shit. There's weird shit with Queen that has zero reason being written and I can't stress this enough, slavery storylines should not be written up by non-Black people, ESPECIALLY white people.

If you intend to write something that shows Black people in pain especially if it's slavery centered, the ONLY folks who should be making that kind of content AND getting money from it is Black people. Our ancestors lived through it. We're still harmed by it's effects till this day. The ONLY people who truly have the right to write about and receive money from said topics, are Black people. Is this my opinion? Yes. Is this my opinion as a BLACK individual? Yes.

Also a hill I will most easily die on is that Queenie did NOT have to be the witch to die at the end of Hotel. Ryan exploited her and knew damn well that he didn't have to try to tie his seasons to Coven and Apocalypse THAT badly. If you're gonna end up just bringing the witch back to life, why is literally any other witch not an option? They just wanted to force Queenie to interact with Madison's racist ass again. Also might I add, my very first time seeing Madison was in Apocalypse (I watched the seasons out of order, sue me) and deadass my first impression of her is hearing her racist ass comment about how magic from African diasporic religions is backwards. Like as a Black viewer, you can imagine I didn't take that very well.

Btw Queenie's death also gave JPM, a white character, an opportunity for "mild redemption" points just cause he felt bad for killing her. Like when has the mofo really ever felt bad about killing someone tbh? Hell when Elizabeth bit the dust, he put her head on display and rejoiced cause it meant that she had to deal with him for all of eternity. So JPM feeling all remorseful for killing Queenie is something I've reformed my opinion on and consider it to be yet another opportunity that gives white characters props for treating Black characters with like bare minimum compassion.

As for the magic, the word you're probably looking for is African diaspora religion. Which the show has this whole scene with Fiona and Marie Laveau were Fiona is trying to get magic from Marie meanwhile she's degrading it at the same time. Which is a scene I'll admit I did like, mainly because Marie points out how white people will want stuff from Black folks for their own personal gain but then they'll spit at us at the same time. Also I believe she points out how white people often steal from us (the Black community) which is the reason why what we have comes off as "similar" cause white people basically take shit and like slap a new name on it and call it theirs as well as new and improved.

And to note, I'll never forgive Ryan for shooting up the Black witches. Literally wtf. The shooter was white and he also hurt Queenie in the process. Also when Marie offers Queenie a spot in her coven, she makes a really good point that the show just throws away. About how she needs to stick to her own people and folks who know her struggle. Something I couldn't agree more because the white witches show time and time again that they genuinely don't care about her despite advertising themselves that way.

As for Tate, him being excused a lot within the fandom ties into how white characters are never held accountable for their actions and will be fawned over till the day the show is dead and gone. Am I saying all Tate fans think this way? No. But a hella good chunk of them do and like utterly refuse to criticize him cause they just see uwu skinny attractive young white teen boy! <3 (also a LOT of Tate apologists will use Ben Harmon as a scapegoat to avoid criticism, which is an essay I'm willing to write for anyone who wants it!) knowing damn well that if Tate wasn't played by a white man, he'd be getting demonized to hell and back, primarily by white fans themselves (which creates an Alma situation but I won't get into that in this post lmao.)

So with that being said there's not much I'll really go deeply into. I probably already have and I have considered making a series of posts that dissect the racism in AHS. But that does take considerable time and effort and I doubt the fandom would look twice at it considering just how not only little the racism in the show is brought up but how's it's perceived by the fandom (considered ballsy and edgy which racism IS NOT.) (Also your point about the song is interesting and weird and probably yet another way of capitalizing of minorities once again.) Anyway I'm open to further questions/analysis about this, just be mature about it y'all! :) 👍🏾

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concussed-to-pieces · 4 years ago

Text

The Mettle Of A Man; Part Twenty

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

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

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Part Four: Finding Brandis

Part Five: Weston Water And Oberland

Part Six: Meeting Preston And Matthew

Part Seven: Radstag And Radstorm

Part Eight: The Return To Sanctuary Hills

Part Nine: Domestic Ruminations

Part Ten: Institutionalized

Part Eleven: Two Weeks, Three Days

Part Twelve: Haylen’s Warning And The Glowing Sea

Part Thirteen: Under Fire

Part Fourteen: Dichotomy

Part Fifteen: The Litany Trial

Part Sixteen: Nice Try

Part Seventeen: Preparations

Part Eighteen: Divide And Conquer

Part Nineteen: Lucky

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

Shaun cheered in delight, racing back to his room.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

"Got nothing to lose, right?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A family.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm cooking." Vega replied tersely.

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

Happier.

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

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

"...Nate?"

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

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

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

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

Nate.

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

Somehow he had managed to survive?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Of course."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

"Hey, Danse?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, please."

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

"P-Please...Danse."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I do have nice tits."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was serious. It always was.

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Elizabeth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's really nothing at all like Nate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

The future.

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

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

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

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

Whatever the future held, they would face it together.

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

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

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lucifer-kane · 4 years ago

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I’m feeling so torn and messed up about kfam ending. The show and the characters meant so much to me, but I’m ashamed to say that when I first listened to it (years ago) I was much more naive than I am now, and didn’t understand the icky problematic parts of it like I do now. I’m also really bad at being involved in fandoms, so I didn’t really know the whole story about Kyle and the other writers. I don’t really know where I’m going with this, I guess I’m just trying to parse out my thoughts and figure out how I should feel. I’m really sad that we’re not going to get an end to the story, I’m disappointed in the writers and their behavior and the fans who continue to defend them. I’m going to try to be more conscious and careful about the media I consume, so if anyone has recommendations for other podcasts that have good representation I would love to hear them. I am so sorry this is such a mess, I just needed to say something somewhere. :)

No this is perfectly okay! And I felt the exact same way you did when I started finding out about the creator and wasn’t as naive, but In the end I’m very happy I learned about all the stuff that’s happened in the past, because it’s important stuff to know.

And listen, KFAM was (and to an extent is) a very important podcast to me, because I made some lovely friends through it, and I do love the good that’s there. If you look far enough back in my kfam tag you can see me gushing about how amazing I think the writing is and how they wrote Sammy as a gay man. I don’t agree with that anymore because I looked deeper than surface level.

But your feelings about it and such are totally understandable, you can still love the show as little or as much as you’d like, because at the end of the day you know the criticisms and recognize them as the bad things they are, which some in this fanbase REFUSE to even think twice on.

This would be a different situation if Kyle and others in the cast and crew realized that the people criticizing the show don’t outright DESPISE it (although some might), we’re did this because we wanted to see a show we enjoyed be BETTER. To not be filled with shitty tropes and actual harmful shit. But because if Kyle and his responses and his general ego issues, shit just went down hill.

And I think you’ve got a good way about it, this certainly also made me more critical on all media I consume, even if I don’t post here about it. I’m always looking into things if need be, especially in larger, more populated things. And I feel you, I’m sad we’ll never hear the end, because even though I have a feeling it would have been rocky. I wanted it

And for reccs, if you like horror and haven’t listened to my million reccs for it. Give Kane and Feels a listen, it’s my number 1 and the creators are genuine nice people who I’m sure listen to shit and hell. Change things before recording/making up a final draft. If anyone else has any reccs, throw them anons way.

#king falls am #kfam critical #I hope this helps anon I really do

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chickensarentcheap · 5 years ago

Text

Best Part of Me -Chapter 12

Warnings: none

Tagging: @alievans007, @thunderintheshadows, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y

Preparing to leave the house with five kids in tow is a full-time job all in itself. Bathing them after a long and active day at school, getting them dressed –which includes incessant bitching and moaning about the textures of clothes and how the tags are ‘too itchy’, having to actually put on socks and shoes-, and giving them the usual list of warnings before even stepping out the front door. No arguing, no fighting, and no bad language. And by the time you manage to get to the front door, at least two have to go to the bathroom and another wants to change what they’re wearing. This time it’s Millie; her self-described princess dress suddenly not ‘princessy enough’. Opting for one with more frills and more sparkles and way too much pink, then insisting on topping the look off with her well-worn light up Spiderman sandals. Tyler had long ago learned to pick his battles, especially as a girl dad. Was suggesting nicer shoes really worth the epic diva style meltdown he’d have to endure? Especially when he’d rather be in flip flops or even bare foot himself?

“I honestly do not care,” he says, when she holds aloft the sandals with a glimmer of hope in her eyes. Other parents would force their kids to comply; embarrassed by the mismatched lock. But he’s gotten so used to carting around boys dressed in superhero costumes –masks and all- that the stares and whispers of strangers don’t both him anymore. And fighting over shoes with a soon to be six-year-old is not the hill he wants to die on. “Do what you want.”

For a brief moment –as he buckles the three oldest into the their car seats in the very back of their second, and much larger, vehicle, he muses about just how different his was now is compared to the one that he used to live. When he was drunk off of his practically twenty-four seven, numbing the pain, guilt, and grief with a potent combination of booze and pain meds. Back in that little shack of his in the Outback, with nothing but a dog and a chicken to keep him company. When he was totally committed to the job and spending his days fighting to keep himself –and quite often someone else- alive in dangerous situations. When he was battered and bloody and sometimes on the brink of death. Now he’s proficient in changing diapers, fixing bottles, and making and packing school lunches. A far cry from the old days. And for a brief moment, the thought makes him feels sad; that his existence is nothing more than a mere shadow of what it used to be. That he’s gone from one extreme to the other. And it shouldn’t; he’d made the conscious decision to give it all up. For his family. So he’d be able to hold his marriage together.

And the sadness is replaced with guilt; that he’d miss the job while getting the opportunity to even have kids and watch them grow. A lot of guys in the job weren’t so lucky; they either never turned alive to their wives and kids, or their marriages completely disintegrated, and they never saw their children again. That’s his worst nightmare; things falling apart and either rarely getting to spend time with them, or not being able to see them at all. Being a dad has given him something to take pride in; raising tiny humans that will hopefully one day grow up to be amazing big humans. Decent adults with compassion and humility. Fiercely independent. Alarmingly intelligent. And it’s given him a chance to finally do it right. He’d been an epic failure as a father with Austin; he’d been cowardly and selfish and would never truly forgive himself for it. But he’d been given another chance; entrusted with helping bring five beautiful lives into the world. And he’s determined not to fuck that up.

“I don’t wanna wear shoes!” TJ laments, and proceeds to use his toes to push his sneakers off one heel, then the other, letting the offending items fall to the floor of the SUV.

“Listen, mate. We’re not going to fight about this. If your mum says you wear shoes, you wear the shoes.”

“This is crap!” Tanner chimes in. “My feet are so hot! Like they’re gonna catch on fire!”

“No one’s feet are going to catch on fire,” Tyler assures him. “You’re wearing the thinnest socks possible. We get there, the shoes go back on. And how come you guys don’t have to wear normal pants?” They’re clad in matching tan cargo shorts; one in a green and white stripped golf shirt, the other in blue and white. Always insisting on matching in some way, despite the fact their parents have purposely dressing them differently from day one.

“’Cause we’re only five!” Tanner huffs, as if he’s just been subjected to the dumbest question that’s ever been asked in the history of mankind.

“By the way,” Tyler says, as he finishes buckling Tanner into his seat. “I want my fifteen bucks back that you scammed me out of the other night.”

“I got that money fair and square,” his son argues. “I got you the info just like you asked.”

“Your mom gave me the info. Which technically means half of the money should go to her.”

“It’s not my fault that you fell for it, daddy. You should be smarter than that. You got totally played by a five-year-old.”

“He’s not wrong,” Esme says as she appears alongside of him, clutching Declan by the hand, the baby resting along her forearm. “You did fall for it.”

“You’re in on this together, aren’t you? You probably put him up to it. You’ve been teaching him some of the tricks of the trade. Getting him ready to follow in your footsteps. I bet he even split the money with you.”

“Please just put the kids in the car before we’re really late,” she implores, then stands on her tip toes to brush her lips against his. Which in turns prompts loud and dramatic gagging from all three of the older kids.

“Don’t do that!” TJ cries. “We don’t need any more babies in the house! Why can’t we have a puppy for a change? I don’t want any more sisters!”

“Well I don’t want any more brothers either,” Millie retorts, and sticks her tongue at him.

“Okay, don’t start.” Esme warns. “At least wait until we’re out of the driveway. And besides, it takes a lot more than that to get a baby brother or sister.”

“Like what?” Millie inquires.”

“Like none of your business,” Tyler replies as he tends to Declan, scooping him of the ground and settling him into his car seat. “Besides, there won’t be any more brothers or sisters. It’s not possible.”

“Can we get a dog then?” Tanner asks

“We already have a dog,” his mother reminds him.

“Let’s get another one!” Millie enthuses. “A puppy!”

“I have enough mouths to feed and barely any sanity left.” Esme says, and passes the baby to her husband, who arches a brow and stares at her pointedly over the dog comment. “Not you too!”

“It’s not a bad idea. We’ve got the room. Inside and outside.”

“Please don’t encourage them. They won’t stop talking about it now. They’re going to ask a million times a day about getting a puppy and I don’t think my mental well-being can take it.”

“We’ll talk about it,” he says, then kisses her and shit the SUV door.

“Oh, you think so do you,” she grins, then runs her hands across his shoulders and down his chest; smoothing out the wrinkles in his simple white dress shirt., the first three buttons undone and no tie; paired with dark washed jeans that fit ‘just right’. Beard still full but neatly trimmed, the product in his hair giving it that unruly ‘bed head’ look. “You clean up nice.”

“You don’t look half bad yourself.” he chides, and then places a hand on her hip and leans into her, pressing a kiss to her ear. “You look beautiful,” he praises, as his hand slides up the middle of her back. The dress is simple and modest; emerald green and off the shoulder, flaring out at the waist and just skimming the bottom of her knees.

She’s still self-conscious about her post-baby body; she’d on twenty-five pounds and had damaged to drop fifteen of them seemingly overnight after Addie was born. She hates the extra weight that clings to her hips and gathers at her waist; despises the stretch marks that mar her skin. Yet to him they just make her even more beautiful; the signs left behind that she’s given him children. There’s no woman in the world that could ever hold a candle to her. It stretches far beyond physical appearance. It’s her strength and her tenacity and the loyalty that that she’s always shown towards him and their kids. And it’s the way she looks at him; as if he’s the most incredible man on the planet even though there’s times he’s shown he’s anything but.

A slight blush creeps into her cheeks. Even after six and a half years of marriage she’s still not used to his random compliments. Mark had all but destroyed every ounce of self-esteem she’d ever had, so Tyler had taken it upon himself to help rebuilt it every chance he got. Whether it’s when she’d dressed up with her done and make up on, or when she’s worn down from lack sleep and her hair is messy and she’s still in her pajamas with baby puke stains on them.

“I’m serious,” he says, as his hand slides down to the small of her back and his lips find hers; soft, slow, simple kiss. “You look incredible.”

She smiles. A genuine, glowing smile that lights up her entire face and makes her eyes sparkle and dance. And with her hands on his chest, she stands on her tip toes once again and places a kiss on the corner of his mouth, then lays her hand against the side of his face and runs the end of pad of her thumb over his lips, her eyes never leaving his.

It’s the sincerest ‘thank you’ he’s ever received.

****

Nik and Kyle have a room at Sovreign Resort Hotel, and they’ve arranged to meet on the outdoor patio belonging to the in-house restaurant. It’s better for the kids; no cooping them up in a crowded, busy room and expecting them to sit still and keep quiet. Being outside gives them a chance to breathe; away from the hustle and bustle and all the judgmental stares and comments if they dare step out of line. There are gardens and fishponds to investigate when they get bored or agitated and need some time to decompress, and room for a high chair for Declan and Addie’s stroller, giving her a comfortable and safe place to retreat to while the others eat and converse.

“Now I know why we don’t go out more often,” Esme comments, as she notices the curious looks and hears the comments tossed their way. A fairly young couple with so many kids, all close together in age. Most find it cute; drawn to the twins in their complimenting outfits and Millie in her princess dress, but there’s the bitchy people as well. The ‘children should be seen and not heard’ crowd that find it ridiculous –and maybe even disgusting- that people are willingly having such large families in this day and age. “People are staring at us,” she frets. “And whispering.”

Tyler moves Declan from one hip to the other, than lays a hand on the back of her neck and gives it a comforting squeeze. “Want me to tell them that I have weak pull out game? Lighten the mood?”

“I’d laugh but I wouldn’t but it past you do actually do something like that. Seriously, what is everyone’s issue?”

“Who gives a shit. Just ignore it. Maybe it bothers them because it’s obvious by all the kids that we’ve had more sex in five years than they’ve had in fifty.”

Normally it would aggravate him, that kind of attention and all the talk. But he’d taken half a dozen Ativan before getting out of the car and the effects are already starting to take hold. He’s relaxed. The calmest he’s been in the past four days. Although he’s pretty sure having to be in Nik’s presence and enduring her version of ‘small talk’ will change that.

Nik and Kyle have already arrived; sitting side by side at a large table near the edge of the patio, leaning into one another, foreheads nearly touching as they talk, their hands joined on top of the table.

“I’m going to be sick,” Esme mutters. “Ughhhh. The way she’s looking at him. He’s way too good for her. Let’s just leave. I don’t think they’ve seen us yet. If we just sneak out now...”

Kyle has spotted them and is already on his feet and making his way towards them; the kids so focused on their surroundings that they’re completely unsuspecting until he’s within five feet, noisily clearing his throat to grab their attention.

“Uncle Kyle!” Millie cries, and is the first to break away, the soles of those old sandals flapping against the concreate patio as she rushes to where he’s already crouched down, arms outstretched, gathering her into them and pulling her tight against him.

The twins follow suit; shrieking his name as they run towards him, finding themselves enveloped by his strong arms and gathered into a bear hug along with their sister. Tears sparkling in Kyle’s eyes as he showers them with kisses and tousles their hair and listens to their excited ramblings; all three talking at the same time, filling him in on all the excitement and adventures they’ve experienced in the past six months. And Tyler notices that Nik doesn’t budge from the table, sipping at a glass of wine and never acknowledging the scene playing out in front of her.

“Wish me luck,” Esme sighs, and he gives a reassuring before taken Declan from him, carrying him on her hip and pushing the baby in the stroller as she herds the other three towards the table to get them settled.

He watches as the two women exchange tight lipped smiles; Esme’s one of lingering bitterness and anger, Nik’s filled with a hint of remorse and maybe even regret. And how his wife holds it together despite wanting to completely unleash on her old friend; instead patiently getting the kids settled and Declan strapped into a highchair. He knows it’s difficult for her; his ‘history’ with Nik still the elephant that lingers in the room, the other issues that she’s caused over the past six and a half years adding insult to injury.

“Good to see you, man,” Kyle gives him an awkward one-armed hug and then claps him on the shoulder. “What the has she been feeding you? You’re a fucking tank.”

“Just a lot of hours in the gym. Gotta keep myself busy somehow. Things are good with you?”

Their relationship has been strained; not just because of the thousands of miles between them and Kyle holding him responsible for yet again ‘stealing’ his sister, but the ongoing hostility with Nik. The last time they’d talked, Tyler hadn’t been kind; letting her know to stay the hell away from him, to never contact him again. He’d been harsh. He’s the first one to admit that. But it had worked. At least until now.

“Things are good,” Kyle says, and then glances over his shoulder at Nik, a smile curving his lips. “Things are really good. What about here? You guys are doing alright? The kids seem happier.”

“We’re all happier. It was the right thing to do. Coming back here.”

“She’s struggling though,” Kyle nods in the direction of his sister. “Don’t even try and tell me she’s not.”

“She’d be struggling a lot less if you have just listened and kept Nik away. It wasn’t enough you’re marrying her considering everything in the past? You had to make things worse by bringing her here?”

“We hadn’t heard from you guys yet. About the wedding.”

“And that means you come all the way here and fuck things up? You have a phone. You've got the internet. Send an email. Don’t just show up. We’re still trying to get past all of this. Nik and her shit, the job.”

"It was her idea. Nik’s. To come here and try and make things. Patch things up. I told her that I didn’t know if either you or Esme were ready for that that yet, but....”

He frowns. “It was her idea?”

Kyle nods. “She wanted to make amends. In person.”

“She told you that? That that’s why we wanted to come here?”

You poor delusional bastard, Tyler thinks. Kyle’s being played and manipulated in the say way she’d messed with him. Nik always has an ulterior motive. And Kyle is either blind to it, doesn’t give a shit, or genuinely doesn’t realize what she’s capable of.

He decides it’s the latter.

“We want you guys at the wedding,” Kyle says. “I mean, if it wasn’t for you and Esme, we never would have met.”

He feels as if he should apologize in advance. Because six months from now, Kyle’s going to realize just what kind of shit show he’s gotten himself into. “

“And we want the kids there,” Kyle continues. “Millie could be the flower girl, the twins could be junior ushers, Declan could carry the ring up. We want it to be a family affair.

The last thing Tyler wants it to be stuck anywhere with Esme’s family. He doesn’t give a shit about their feelings towards him. If they want to spend the rest of their lives hating him and viewing him as the enemy, so be it. But the way they’ve treated her.... his wife...is unacceptable. And the worst place to air those grievances is at the wedding of the only member of that clan he can actually stand.

“Won’t be the same without all of you,” Kyle says. “I mean, we’re family.”

Tyler wouldn’t go that far. You usually don’t become family with someone you used to casually fuck,

“This is a big deal for her,” his brother in law continues. “Wanting to come here. Wanting to make things right.”

“And you really think that’s why she wanted to come here?”

“Why wouldn’t I? She hasn’t given me a reason not to believe her. Why?” his eyes narrow. “You know something I don’t know.”

“I don’t think you know Nik as well as you think you do,” Tyler says, then gives him a sympathetic pat on shoulder before heading for the table.

****

“You’re here to take daddy away, aren’t you.” Millie voice is accusatory and full of venom; eyes narrowed as she regards Nik from across the table.

Dinner is long finished; all dirty dishes and cutlery cleared away in favor of tea and coffee for the adults and ice cream for the kids. His daughter has been glued to his side all night, Nik bringing out the clingy and protective side of her. Nearly causing a fight with Tanner when he initially wouldn’t give up the seat to Tyler’s right. Then climbing up into his lap as soon as the meal was finished; sitting sideways on his thighs, an arm curled tightly around his neck.

Esme shifts uncomfortably beside him, then noisily clears her throat and reaches for a glass of ice water. He takes her hand, squeezing it tightly before placing their joined hands on her thigh.

“No one is taking anyone away,” he assures his daughter.

“That's what you said last time,” Millie reminds him. “And then you were gone forever.”

“Well this time is different. I’m not going anywhere. Uncle Kyle just came to see you guys. So she tagged along. Nothing more than that.”

“She is your Aunt,” Kyle speaks up. “It’s okay if you guys call her that even if certain people don’t want to acknowledge it or accept it.”

Esme clears her throat once more, hand tightening around Tyler’s.

Millie isn’t convinced. “If I wake up tomorrow and my daddy's gone, I’m going to be really pissed!”

“Okay, calm down,” Tyler presses a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m still going to be here when you wake up tomorrow. So just relax, okay? Take it easy.”

Millie turns to face him, then kneels on his laps as she leans in close and whispers. “I don’t trust her, daddy.”

“It’s a long way to come,” Esme pipes up. “Just because you missed the kids. Web cam chats do exist, you know.”

“It’s not the same,” Kyle says. “And things are slow right now for Nik and I had some vacation time owe to me, so...well...here we are.”

“Yeah,” Esme gives a tense smile. “Here you guys are.”

Tyler moves Mille over to his other thigh, then let’s go his wife’s hand in favor of laying his arm across the back of her chair, thumb repeatedly brushing against her shoulder.

“We thought it was time to smooth things out,” Kyle explains. “Before the wedding. So things aren’t tense that day like they are now. I mean, it’s been six months. Time to let it go, don’t you think.”

“I think you’re underestimating what the nearly six years before were like,” his sister calmly responds. “Or am I just supposed to pretend they never happened? That she...sorry.... you...” she looks over at Nik. “...never pulled all the bullshit you did?”

“Mommy.” Tanner looks up from his ice cream. “That’s a bad word. Daddy said no bad words tonight.”

“You’re right,” she says, and then gives her son a smile and wraps an arm around him, drawing him tight against her. “Bad mommy,” she scolds herself, and then runs her fingers through his hair and places a kiss to his cheek.

“No one is saying that you have to forget about all of that or pretend it never happened.” Kyle informs her. “But wouldn’t you rather iron things out so you’re carrying around so much animosity?”

“Oh, that’s rich, K. Maybe you should be addressing your future wife’s animosity. And how she was so pissed at Tyler and I that she was willing to leave us both on a bridge in Dhaka to die.”

“Okay...no one needs to hear about this,” Tyler says, and rubs her shoulder. “Especially little ears.”

“I’ve already apologized for that,” Nik finally speaks. “Countless times. But things didn’t exactly happen the way you think they did.”

Esme snorts. “Spare me, Nik. Yaz told me all I needed to know. So don’t waste your breath lying to me. Dhaka was a total crap show and you just went ahead and made it even worse.”

“Alright, settle down,” Tyler implores, and then leans sideways to press a kiss to her temple, lips settling against her ear. “The kids do not need to hear this. Any of this. Okay? Can you stop? For me? Please?”

She reluctantly nods.

“It was Nik’s idea to come here,” Kyle says. “She wanted to patch things up. With both of you. So we could be part of the kids’ lives. They deserve to have family. Are you going to let your ego get in the way of what’s best for them?”

“Whoa...whoa...” Tyler comes to his wife’s defense. “...that’s way out of line, mate. Don't use her kids against her. Don’t ever accuse of not doing what’s for her kids. Our kids. Don’t stoop that low or you are I are going to have problems.”

“I’m just saying that...”

“I know what you’re saying. But find another way to say. Because I won’t let you disrespect the mother of my children like that.”

Nik gives a dramatic sigh. “Obviously the two of you are still holding onto a lot of bitterness and anger and this was a total waste of our time.”

“We’re holding onto a lot of bitterness and anger?” Esme retorts, then laughs. “Says the woman who couldn’t handle that her with friend with benefits met someone and decided to move on with his life. The same woman who was so mad about it that she spent six years trying to get my husband to cheat on me? Or are you going to pretend none of that ever happened?”

“And I’ve apologized for that, Esme. But you’re just so childish and petty that you can't let it go.”

‘Well I’m sorry, Nik. Maybe I’m not comfortable with my husband’s old side piece becoming my sister in law.”

“There’s kids here,” Tyler reminds them both. “They don’t need to hear this. Either settle down or just drop it.”

Esme glares at him. “And suddenly you’re on her side?”

“I’m on your side. I’m always on your side. But I’m also on the side of my kids not having to hear this stuff.”

“Oh, I’m sure they’ve heard a lot worse,” Nik snidely remarks. “With you as their father.”

Esme’s eyes narrow. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You know what he’s like. The mouth on him. I’m just saying that I’m sure the kids have heard a lot worse than what we’re talking about.”

“How about you just leave my kids out of this,” Esme suggests. “Or is that the real issue? That they’re my kids...with him...and not yours.”

“Jesus Christ,” Kyle moans. “Not this again.”

“That’s what really pissed off six and a half years ago, wasn’t it, Nik. The fact that you wanted more than just the dick and he wouldn’t give it to you. It just pissed you off when he met me and all of sudden he was getting married, having kids, enjoying a normal life. That’s what really bugged you. What still bugs you.”

“Can we not talk about that?” Tyler asks. “Do you really think the kids need to know this kind of shit?”

Esme ignores him. “Why don’t you tell Kyle the real reason you’re here, Nik. And don’t lie and say it was to repair things between us. Tell the truth for once. Tell him you’re here to screw things up all over again.”

“I don’t think we need to talk about this now,” Nik says. “This was supposed to be about coming together and sitting down and ironing things out. To patch things up and see the kids and...”

“I think we should call it a night,” Tyler suggests. “It’s getting late and the kids are tired and have school tomorrow.”

“No,” Esme responds. “We’re not leaving. She’s going to come clear to my brother about what she’s really here for. How she used our kids as an excuse to come here. Tell him, Nik. Tell him exactly what you came all this way for.”

“Esme,” Tyler warns. “...not here...please.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Kyle. It isn’t for my husband’s dick. For once. It’s all business, isn’t it, Nik. It’s all about the job. And you trying to manipulate Tyler into helping you.”

“Would you stop,” Tyler tightly squeezes her shoulder. “Enough. Stop Not here. Not now. And not in front of the kids.”

“Nik wants to hire Ovi to be a mercenary,” Esme announces. “Ovi. Of all goddamn people.”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Tyler orders. “If you two wants to hash it out or kick the crap out of each other, go do it somewhere else. Just not in front of my kids.”

“You’d think she’d have more comment sense than that because of everything Ovi went through in Dhaka,” Esme continues. “But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised considering we wanted us to leave him in the street like a piece of trash. She probably wanted Tyler to leave me there too. Because I was the obstacle in the way or getting what she really wanted.”

“Is this true?” Kyle address Nik. “That’s why you really wanted to come here? To hire Ovi?”

“Oh, not just that,” Esme informs him. “She wants Tyler’s help. She wants him to train Ovi before she sends him off to be killed. She probably wants more than that. She always has.”

“Okay, we’re going.” Tyler tightens his hold on Millie and stands up. “Enough. I’ve had enough. I said not to do this, and you did it anyway. Let’s go.”

“I want to know if any of this is true,” Kyle says. “If that’s the real reason we ended up here. Is it?” he looks back at Nik. “IT had nothing do with fixing things, did it. It was all bullshit. Just to get something you want.”

“That’s Nik’s M.O,” Esme smirks. “That’s all she ever cares about. Getting what she wants. And trying to destroy anyone that stands in her way.”

“Why would you do this?” Nik hisses. “Stoop this low?”

“Now you know how it feels,” Esme give a victorious smile as she stands up. “Doesn’t feel good, does it? Having some bitch trying to fuck your life up.”

“Jesus Christ,” Tyler snarls. “Let’s just go. Enough. You’ve said enough.”

“Oh, I have more tons more I could say.”

“Well another time, another place. We’re leaving. Now.” His tone is demanding. Authoritative. But his face remains calm as he gathers up all the kids; Declan on one hip, Millie on the other. “Let’s go guys,” he says to the twins. “Home time.”

“Thank God,” Tanner huffs. “Adult stuff is so boring.”

Kyle hurries after them as they leave, catching Tyler by the arm before he can get out the side entrance of the patio. “I am so fucking sorry. I had no idea what she was up to,” he says, as Esme and the twins –with TJ pushing the baby stroller- continue the walk to the car. “She told me that she wanted to come here and fix things. And so I could see the kids. I had no clue she had an ulterior motive.”

“That’s one thing about Nik. She always has an ulterior motive. I’m sorry, too. That you had to find out that way. Esme should have just kept her mouth shut. For tonight at least. I tried, but...” Tyler shrugs. “...she doesn’t always listen to me.”

“She doesn’t listen to anyone,” Kyle gives a dry laugh. You guys going to be okay?”

“We’ll be fine. She’ll get home and go off on me for a bit and then she’ll calm down. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before. I’m used to it after six and a half years. Good luck with Nik, though. You’re going to need it.”

Kyle frowns and runs a hand over the back of his head. “That bad, huh?”

“Mate, you have idea. If she boots you out and you need a place to crash, you know where to find us.”

“Yeah, don’t be surprised if you come out in the morning and find me drunk and passed out on the beach.”

Tyler smirks. “There’s been times I wished I was loaded and passed out on the beach, believe me. I am sorry. That your sister went off like that. But you were going to find out sooner or later.”

“Better sooner if you ask me.” Kyle says. “Tell her I’m sorry. That you’re dragged back into this shit. Into that life. Esme deserves better than that.”

“Yeah,” Tyler agrees. “She does.”

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #best part of me #extraction #chris hemsworth character

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thepurplebutterflythings · 5 years ago

Text

Kitty Cat & Tweety Bird (Part 4) - Jason Todd

Gif: Dxnninja on Tenor

Word Count: 3.5K

Paring: Jason Todd (Titans) x (f)Reader

Summary: Police Commissioner Jim Gordon meets Y/N and sees the blatantly obvious reason as to why Bruce finds Y/N familiar, although Bruce still doesn’t notice it. Y/N goes and visits her Auntie Harley and Auntie Ivy to ask them what they know about her father.

Warnings: N/A

A/N: This is a little series I am doing about Jason Todd in Titans. I don’t know Comic!Jason very well so I’m taking all of this from the show, and at the moment he hasn’t been in very often, so please forgive any mischaracterizations.

Tagging: @bella-0104-123 @ninergirl1d @httpfandxms @rosybrock @attackonnat @reclusive-chicken-nugget @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @young-psychos @thesleepykaijuu @thescottpack @nightlygiggles @rougestorms @sinon36

Kitty Cat & Tweety Bird Part 3 | Masterlist | Kitty Cat & Tweety Bird Part 5

________________________________________________________________

Y/N didn’t know how the conversation started between herself, Bruce and Jason, but they were talking about vigilantes.

“I think people like Batman and Robin are needed,” Y/N said as they chatted on, “My mum grew up in the city before they existed and tells me stories about it, people like Fish Mooney and Jerome Valaska, and it sounds like a chaotic nightmare. With Batman and Robin around… there’s more order in the city.”

“Yes, I remember the city before,” Bruce nodded along as Jason wrapped an arm around Y/N’s shoulder and kissed her temple. They found no need to hide their budding relationship, it didn’t affect her internship and Bruce respected personal boundaries. “It has certainly changed.”

“And they’ve inspired others to make a difference and fight crime,” Y/N added on.

“Lynx is my favourite,” Jason said, “She’s a total badass!”

“Lynx…” Bruce frowned.

“Don’t you like Lynx?” Y/N asked curiously, wanting to know what Bruce, Batman, had against Lynx. Maybe it could help her improve.

“Well, there is great potential there, no doubt,” Bruce nodded, “but I keep a vault at the Gotham city Vaults and heard from a guard of Catwoman, Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy breaking in and nearly being captured by Batman and Robin only for Lynx to help the three escape,” Bruce almost tutted, “if it’s true, then I’d say that Lynx is unpredictable, and can you rely on someone unpredictable?”

Y/N pulled away from Jason and walked towards Bruce’s shelves to study what was on there, hoping to change the topic. They didn’t understand. They wouldn’t understand. Her eyes were drawn to a broken object. It was a broken snow globe, white base and no glass, and therefore no water or snow, but the scenery inside was still intact. A snowy hill with trees and a house. Y/N frowned as she looked at it, fingers itching to touch it and trace the little path through the trees leading to the house.

“Where’d you get this?” Y/N asked, turning to look at Bruce, who remained at his desk, eyeing the article of his past. Jason stood by Y/N and looked at the snow globe too, as though he had just noticed it.

“I bought it as a gift for… someone, a girl, when I was a young boy,” Bruce explained as he finally approached the two at his shelves. He took the snow globe and handed it to Y/N, who lifted it up close to study, smiling at the pretty scenery, imagining how it would look with falling snow. Bruce watched her closely; there was something about the glimmer in her eye and the smile on her face when looking at the broken artefact that stuck him – she was so familiar to him somehow, why?

“Didn’t she like it?” Y/N asked, lowering the snow globe.

“I’m not sure,” Bruce said, “we had an argument when I tried giving it to her and she dropped it, then left.”

“I’m sorry,” Y/N said handing the globe back. Bruce took it and gave a small smile.

“She was a very stubborn person,” Bruce almost chuckled.

“You and this girl,” Jason said, “were you… together?”

“Not at the time, never officially,” Bruce explained, “but… we liked each other… and in another life…” there was a sadness to his voice as he thought about the girl.

The conversation was interrupted by a knock on the open office door. The three turned to see an older man standing there in a neat suit, crinkles around his eyes and mouth as he smiled at Bruce, who chuckled and greeted the man with a firm handshake.

“Bruce Wayne, it’s good to see you,” the man said.

“Likewise, Commissioner.”

“Come on, after all we’ve been through, call be Jim,” The Commissioner said as he walked in and saw Jason and Y/N. He held his hand out to them, “Jim Gordon, Police Commissioner.”

“Jason Todd,” Jason said, shaking his hand.

Jim then turned and looked at Y/N, blinking in shock, his mouth open as he stared at her. Jim knew that smile, a permanent playfulness etched onto a face with a mischievousness that was hard to hide, and looking at Y/N’s eyes, Jim saw something else. It was so clear and so obvious to an outsider, but something Bruce couldn’t see himself, the reason as to why Y/N seemed so familiar, and not only that but something else, something hidden, something which Y/N didn’t know herself. It was all there in her eyes. Y/N just smiled and chuckled, taking his hand, clueless to his reaction.

“Y/N,” she said, “I’m the new Wayne Enterprises Intern.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” Jim said, slowly shaking her hand and staring at her face.

“Well, we’re going to lunch now,” Jason said, “see you later, Bruce, and nice meeting you Commissioner Gordon.”

“And nice meeting the pair of you,” Jim said as he watched Y/N leave the room with Jason. When they left Jim turned to Bruce with a stunned expression.

“Does Y/N remind you of anyone?” Bruce asked gesturing after the girl.

“Yes,” Jim said.

“Me too, but I can’t figure out who.”

“Really?” Jim blinked. Was Bruce Wayne so oblivious that he couldn’t recognise that Y/N was the daughter of Selina Kyle? And was Bruce Wayne so oblivious that he couldn’t see that Y/N had his eyes?

Apparently, he was.

________________________________________________________________

“Tell me,” Alfred said to Y/N as she and Jason sat in the kitchen. Bruce was still at the office. “Is it just you and your mother?”

“Yep, just me and my mum.”

“Where’s your father?” Alfred asked curiously. Even Jason turned to look at Y/N then. After all their time together, Y/N had never mentioned her father.

“He died,” Y/N sighed, “before I was born.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Alfred said, placing a hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “How did it happen?”

“There was a shoot-out at one of Penguin’s places, my parents were there and Dad made sure Mum was safe,” Y/N paused, “Mum had just told Dad that she was pregnant.”

“Oh, Y/N,” Alfred sighed, “I am truly sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Y/N shrugged it off. She hated the pity people gave her when they heard her mother’s tragedy. Her father died protecting Selina and her unborn child, that’s what should be remembered, not that Y/N grew up without a father.

“Well, Y/N,” Alfred said, “your mother did an absolutely remarkable job in raising you, you are an incredible young woman and I have no doubt that your father, if he were here, would be incredibly proud of you,” he smiled at Y/N.

“Thank you, Alfred,” Y/N smiled faintly, “that means a lot to me.”

“What was his name?” Alfred asked. Y/N stopped smiling, it fell from her face as she thought. What was her father’s name? Y/N frowned as she thought. Surely her mother must have mentioned it once, at least a nickname, but as Y/N thought she realised that Selina hadn’t. Who was her father?

________________________________________________________________

“AUNTIE HARLEY? AUNTIE IVY?” Y/N called through the lobby of Harley and Ivy’s house. Her voice echoed around the room before she heard the sound of paws hitting the ground. Bud and Lou, Harley’s Hyenas, plodded up to her and nudged her legs for Y/N to fuss them, which she did with a chuckle, scratching Bud behind the ear and Lou under the chin. “Hey babies,” Y/N cooed at the animals.

“Y/N?”

“Auntie Ivy,” Y/N sighed as she walked up to her aunt and hugged her, “where’s Harley?” She asked, looking around her.

“I’ve learnt not to ask,” Ivy chuckled while speaking into Y/N’s ear and wrapping an arm around her, “it only leads to me worrying. Now,” Ivy said, “what brings my lovely niece round?”

“I, erm, I wanted to talk,” Y/N said as Ivy sat her down and grabbed a bowl of strawberries which were already out and sat it between them.

“About anything in particular?” Ivy asked as she sat down and looked at Y/N.

“What’d you know of my father?” Y/N asked. Ivy blinked and straightened up at the question.

“Hasn’t your mother told you all she knows?”

“No, mum doesn’t like talking about dad,” Y/N confessed, “she always gets upset about it.”

“What’s brought this on? Wanting to know about your father?”

“I don’t know,” Y/N shrugged, “I guess I feel like there’s a part of me missing cause I don’t know my past, my whole past. I know mum, but I don’t know dad. And, honestly, something seems off about Mum’s story about Dad

“Well, honestly, sprout,” Ivy sighed “Harley and I know nothing about your father, and honestly, we couldn’t even tell you if what your mother says is the truth.” Ivy waved a hand, “Penguin has gained many enemies over the years and an attack seems likely, and many died in crossfires in Gotham, but I don’t know why on earth Selina would step into Penguin’s place, especially when pregnant and with the man she loves. But I and Harley have always accepted it as the truth. Why would we question it?” Ivy explained, “Although now you mention it there is a lot to question about Selina’s story. Remember sprout, your mother is in a dangerous lifestyle and she often keeps things private for protection, not of herself but of you. You’re her daughter, she would do anything for you.”

“I know,” Y/N nodded, “I just want to know who he was, where I came from… if there’s any family on his side. I feel like I’m missing part of myself.”

“I get that, sprout,” Ivy stroked Y/N’s hair, “I do. If I knew anything I’d tell you,” Ivy promised, “but I don’t, and neither does Harley. This is Selina Kyle we’re speaking of, even her secrets have secrets.”

“But, Auntie Ivy,” Y/N hesitated, “if mum is lying and my father didn’t die in a crossfire at Penguin’s, then what did happen?”

“I don’t know…” Ivy whispered, “your mother keeps many secrets, and your father seems to be her best-kept one, but I doubt your mother would cut your father from your life, she knows what it’s like growing up without parents. I think she must be telling the truth, and if not, then… well… I hate to say it, sprout, and then perhaps your father died another way, something less heroic than protecting the mother of his unborn child. I hope you don’t get upset by that…”

“No, no,” Y/N shook her head, “I get it… There are no heroes in Gotham.”

“Not in the big sense,” Ivy said, “but there are small heroes every now and then, and perhaps your father was genuinely one of those. He did the brave thing and sacrificed himself so your mother could have you and give you the best life possible, and maybe that’s why it hurts your mother so to talk about him.”

“Thank you, Auntie Ivy.”

“Now come on,” Ivy stood up and pulled Y/N to her feet, “I’m going to need help watering the plants and feeding Bud and Lou, and I think you are the perfect little helper!” Ivy tapped the end of Y/N’s nose with her finger, “come along, sprout.”

“Hun, where are you?” Harley cooed as she walked around the house, Bud and Lou trailing after her, coming to see Ivy and Y/N. “Aww, Y/N,” Harley squealed, running and hugging her niece closely, “it’s so good to see you! What brings ya by?”

“Oh,” Ivy sighed, “Y/N was just asking if we knew anything about her father.”

“Ya Daddy? Nah, nothing,” Harley shook her head, “nada. Wish I did, babes, sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Y/N said with a sad smile, “I get it, mum’s private.”

“Babes,” Harley sighed, cupping Y/N’s face, “Selina keeps things private for a reason, to keep you safe, and that’s probably why she ain’t told us anything, cause we’d tell ya. I can’t blame her really.”

“Me neither,” said Ivy, “we aren’t parents, so we don’t know what would be the right thing to do.”

Harley nodded “Exactly, but know one thing, babes, me and Ivy will always be here for ya.”

“We helped Selina raise you from a seedling,” Ivy stroked Y/n’s hair, “we see you as our own in a way.”

“Thank you, Aunties.”

_______________________________________________________________

When Y/N got home she opened the door to her home to see her mother standing in the living room with large eyes and opposite her was Jim Gordon. They were clearly having a private conversation as they stopped when Y/N walked in. Y/N frowned at the sight but walked in, dropping her bag.

“Commissioner Gordon, what a surprise!” Y/N said wearily, “what brings you by?”

“Well, I knew Selina when she was a kid,” Jim said, “and please, just Jim will do, Y/N.”

“Really?” Y/N stepped forward and folded her arms, “I didn’t know that.”

“Well, Selina has always been a private person,” Jim smiled at Selina who smiled tightly. Y/N noticed this and watched her mother. Had Jim said something which upset her mother? Was he planning to arrest her or something?

“What were you talking about?” Y/N asked, eyeing Jim up and down.

“Just catching up,” Selina assured Y/N with a smile.

“Mmm,” Y/N nodded, “how’d you meet?”

Jim and Selina sighed and met each other’s gaze.

“Actually, I cannot say the details,” Jim admitted, “but it was through a case – a murder. Your mother was a possible witness.”

“Really?” Y/N frowned and looked at her mother who awkwardly looked down.

“It’s not something I like to talk about,” Selina said, “I was a kid on the streets, things like that happened more than I care to admit.”

“Oh, mum…”

“Anyway, it was good to see you, Selina,” Jim said, “and think about what I said, please, you know he’d like to.”

“I made that decision a long time ago, Gordon,” Selina told the man, “and I don’t plan on changing my mind anytime soon. Anyway, it’s too late to now anyway.”

“It doesn’t mean he wouldn’t find out eventually,” Jim pointed out. Y/N just frowned, not knowing what they were speaking about. “Anyway, I should go. My wife and kids await.”

“Goodbye, Jim,” Selina said, leading the man to the door, “it was good to see you.”

“You too, Selina,” Jim said, stopping in the doorway and looking at the woman, “I’m glad to see you’ve gotten yourself on your feet, and to see you have such a lovely daughter. I’m proud of you, Cat.”

“Thank you, Jim,” Selina smiled as Jim left, closing the door behind him. Selina turned and faced Y/N, who frowned at her mother.

“What the hell was that about?”

“It’s something from a long time ago,” Selina waved it off with a sigh, “I was young, a different person. You weren’t born.”

“Was it about that case? The one you witnessed?”

“In a sense,” Selina sat down, “it was about a relative of the victims. But I was involved in a few cases, it could’ve been about any of them.”

“Like what?”

“There were two people who abducted street kids,” Selina said, “Jerome Valaska, which I think I’ve told you about.”

“Yes,” Y/N nodded with a shudder. “I remember finding that YouTube video of his attack on the Gotham Police Station when I was nine. I had nightmares for months.”

“And that’s why I put blocks on certain things online,” Selina said sitting down, “I remember you waking up and screaming in the middle of the night. It traumatized you. And I hope the sick freak who put it online gets hit by a car. Karma! Then there was Barbra Keen, lord knows what happened to her. She sort of dropped off the earth around a few years back, but I’ve heard she’s in Central City now anyway. Look, what I’m saying is there is a lot of horrible things in the past, and that’s why I haven’t told you about what I’ve witnessed or all of what I’ve been through. It’s horrible, Kitten.”

“Okay Mum,” Y/N nodded as she sat next to Selina and snuggled into her mother’s side like she did as a child. She rested her head on her mother’s chest and wrapped an arm around her mother’s middle. Selina sighed and leaned back in the sofa, wrapping her daughter in her arms and kissing the top of her head. Y/N inhaled deeply and the scent of her mother’s perfume provided comfort to her - Vivienne Westwood Boudoir. Classy and Selina Kyle.

“How was it round Ivy and Harley’s?” Selina said quietly into her daughter’s hair.

“Nice,” Y/N yawned as she suddenly felt tired. It was amazing that, regardless of how old Y/N was, all Selina had to do to get her baby girl to sleep was wrap her up in her arms and talk in a soothing voice.

“Close your eyes, Baby,” Selina cooed, “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“Okay, Mama.”

________________________________________________________________

Selina and Jim didn’t talk about Selina being a witness to a crime as a child, no, they spoke about what Jim knew, and when Selina confirmed it, Jim knew he had to talk with Alfred. He called the old friend and asked him to meet in a bar.

“Commissioner Gordon,” Alfred nodded as he took the seat in the booth opposite Jim, “What is this about? And why did you wish to meet here and not at Wayne Manor? You know Bruce will always be pleased to see you.”

“This is about Bruce, in a sense at least,” Jim explained, “and it isn’t my place to tell him what this is about.”

“Is it my place?”

“No,” Jim shook his head, “this is Selina Kyle’s place to tell Bruce.”

“Selina Kyle?” Alfred frowned, “what is this about, Jim? What does Selina Kyle know?”

Jim sighed and shook his head “It’s not what she knows, Alfred, it’s about what she’s hidden…”

“Jim, just tell me.”

“That Jason’s girlfriend,” Jim said quietly, “what’d you know about her?”

“Not much,” Alfred shrugged, “Jason’s Lab partner, raised by a single mother, an only child, and her father was killed at Penguin’s in a crossfire, why?”

“Her father isn’t dead, Alfred, her father is alive and well.”

“You’re not suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, Commissioner, are you?”

“Bruce Wayne is her father.”

“And what does Selina Kyle have to do with this?”

“Don’t you know Y/N’s surname?” Jim blinked.

“No.”

“Her name is Y/N Calabrese Kyle,” Jim explained, “And she’s the daughter of Selina Kyle.”

“Selina and Bruce?” Alfred mumbled, “I suppose I’ve always suspected on some level that the two of them had feelings for one another, but I never thought that they’d act on them.”

“Oh, they acted on them alright.”

“How’d you know?” Alfred asked, “Who she was?”

“I saw it in her the moment we met in Bruce’s office,” Jim explained, “after that all I did was look at Hospital record to see that Selina Kyle gave birth to a baby girl nearly 20 years ago, which made sense because there was a yearlong hiatus in her actions as Catwoman. On the birth certificate, Bruce is listed as the father, but I suspected Bruce was the father automatically, and not because of the history between Selina and Bruce, but because of her eyes. Look at Y/N’s eyes, Alfred, she’s a Wayne, then I went to see her and ask if it was true.”

“And she confirmed this?”

“Yes,” Jim nodded, “Y/N is Bruce’s child.”

“Do you know what this means?” Alfred muttered, “After Bruce passes, God forbid, then lawyers will look to see the next Wayne Heir. They will track her down, does Selina know this?”

“Yes, she does, but doesn’t want her daughter to know this.”

“Why not? Bruce would be more than happy to provide for this child and Y/N is an admirable young woman, Bruce has met her and said so himself.”

“Selina is Selina,” Jim sighed, “remember Bruce left the city for ten years, and Selina was hurt, beyond hurt.”

“So she’s keeping Bruce in the dark about his child because of petty anger?”

“No, she’s doing this because she’s scared Bruce will leave again, and this time Selina isn’t the only one who’d get hurt. Y/N would too.”

“Oh…” Alfred sighed and sat back. Course. It made sense when he thought about it. Alfred remembered the pain in Selina’s eyes when she saw Bruce had left, and he could understand why she wouldn’t want her baby to experience that same pain. Bruce was unpredictable, but he kept his promise of never leaving the city again, but how could Selina be sure? She thought he’d never leave her the first time, but he did.

“I suppose their reunion was more than they expected though,” Jim pointed out. Bruce returned to the city over twenty years ago now, and Y/N was nineteen, that meant that one of the first times the two were reunited, they conceived Y/N. “Does she know that Bruce is her father?”

“No,” Alfred said, “she’s convinced her father died in Penguin’s in a crossfire, saving Selina, who was pregnant with her.” Alfred looked at his old friend, “did you try and convince her to tell Y/N? Or Bruce?”

“She said she made her mind up 19 years ago, and she’s sticking to it.”

“She was always stubborn.”

“But Alfred this isn’t our place to tell either Y/N or Bruce,” Jim said, “okay?”

“I understand,” Alfred nodded. He truly did.

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