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romantic-flora · 1 year ago

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TIME FOR ANOTHER LONG ONE

Buckle up ladies, gaydies, & theydies, cause Flora's a LITTLE MAD today.

You may have seen my post about River recently. Well I still haven't heard from her but this isn't a tea update I just have A LOT OF FEELINGS about this situation.

So sit down, shut up, and open your ears to one autistic motherfucker raging about social queues.

Like I said before my date with River was probably the best first date I've ever been on. No actually is FOR SURE was. The conversation and flirting had so much chemistry - we couldn't wait two hours to kiss, we had to get it out of the way at the table. She was just the right amount of forward to be exciting but not overwhelming. The dom/sub dynamic flipped back and forth too many times to count and both of us loved being on both sides. And we're not even talking abut the sex yet (it was fantastic too). We share so many interests and she's a more-than-casual enjoyer of my *special interests* so it didn't feel awkward devoting a huge part of our conversation to them.

She read me so thoroughly and clearly - even with Luna, sometimes I feel like they can't quite grapple the way that I think (head full v head empty), but River consistently helped me finish thoughts that I was having trouble articulating and explicitly enjoyed it. There's a deep satisfaction to be found in being able to reach the same conclusion as someone without having to say all the words - for those of us who have brains that move way faster than our bodies. On top of which, River has been in a relationship with a transgirl before, so I didn't have to worry about answering questions or doing simple education.

She's brilliant. I say that in no attempt to hyperbolize. As someone who begrudgingly accepts the title of genius autism (I got both Smart Girl & Obsessed With Dumb Shit Girl versions in roughly equal measure hahaHAHA FUCK) I find it very difficult to connect with people to don't match me intellectually. This isn't a flex, it's alienating. I just can't be engaged in a conversation where I'm never being surprised or interested by the other person's thought process. Believe me, if I could go back to the start and reroll my stats, I would fucking bottom out intelligence. River, as I've probably made clear already, can more than keep up. I love playing word games over text, in person, as flirting etc - so to sit down with someone who has a degree in linguistics??? Come on. The whole experience was just so deeply refreshing and entertaining.

And I THOUGHT I was talking to someone super emotionally mature and interested in getting ahead of possible hurdles. We had already been discussing our second date before going on our first. She brought up dating goals, and I said I was looking for some emotional and intellectual fulfillment. She said she'd been out of a long term relationship for 6 months and wasn't looking for anything serious right now... but... that we had clicked way more than she was expecting to with anyone and she could see it going somewhere. I said we should keep things chill for now then & have another conversation about it after a few more dates. Seems good right? Being upfront about expectations and comfortable discussing feelings???

WELL I GUESS NOT. After a few more drinks we went to my place and had sex. She stuck around for a few hours of chat & cuddling after. I paid for her uber home - she had a job interview the next morning. She sent me a few texts on the way, and a cute goodnight message when she got home.

I simply cannot put into words how excited I was to have someone I didn't have to compromise on any of my standards for. AND she's super into me in return??? Too good to be true.

It's been 4 days and I haven't heard from her. I'm not blocked. She read my first couple messages (I've sent...3? & a post). She's pretty offline in general, she has ADHD, and I knew she had plans this week.

Luna says to give an ADHDer a week and to not assume anything until then. I'm struggling with that because for the three days prior to our date, our communication was very consistent. Easily hundreds of messages per day. And I knoooowwwww that's because I was top of mind.

Bottom line I have no idea what's going on, & everyone is telling me to be patient. It's a slow sinking feeling though, as with every hour a bit more hope slips away. I'm really hoping we'll bump into each other at an event tomorrow & I can get a better picture.

______________________________________________________________

Time to talk about my feelings. Gross, I know.

I cannot help but feel frustrated. Lack of resolution to situations drives my anxiety I N S A N E. I cannot help but assume the worst. The timing is very conspicuous. I'm used to Luna going dark for a few days at a time when they get busy, but RIGHT AFTER our first date doesn't feel neutral, it feels intentional.

The way I see it, there are two things that could be happening, if it's not forgetfulness.

River lied to me. About all of this special/different shit, so that she could fuck me. I would have said no to a hookup - the only reason I wanted to have sex was because I thought we were going to keep seeing each other. I might be a slut, but I'm a slut with desires. We had originally said we weren't going to hookup on our first date... Some would say if you're having that conversation ahead of time, you're definitely going to. We were both just so excited and into it. I don't think River is the kind of person to do this, but ALSO she's a stranger I met on the internet a week ago, she could be lying about anything. This option makes me quite upset, but it's easier to process because the rational outcome is anger. Anger doesn't make me anxious, I can handle it. So I'm having a couple days for feral girl rage while I wait out Luna's recommended waiting period.

It was too much too soon & she got scared. That I can absolutely understand - I would want to talk and settle that in a mature way that keeps us talking. If she just got too excited and the sex was more than she wanted in retrospect I totally get it. But WHY aren't you talking to me? Is this how allistic people deal with discomfort? Just walk away from it? From a really really good thing? That's BAFFLING I simply cannot comprehend the thought process. I've ghosted people before, but only people that I've had like one mediocre conversation with, I could NEVER do it to someone I actually liked. And if I had FEELINGS for that person... even if you're not comfortable pursuing them right now, why would you throw away that option??? I am filled with such tumult at the thought that she could HAVE feelings and be CHOOSING to avoid me. That's so terribly anxiety inducing. I just want things between us to be stable and comfortable, we can take a step back, we don't have to have sex until you're ready, we don't even have to see each other that much, just TALK TO ME.

River. We could be so fucking good together. Now or whenever you're ready. I'll wait if you want me to. Just don't leave me in the dark. I think you were being honest when you told me you had an amazing time. I don't want to believe you're a liar. I'm going to pretend to be mad so that I'm not anxious, but whether it's good for me or not, the second you text me, I'm going to be so relieved and understanding of whatever you say.

Unless it's something I have failed to consider. This is a tangent, but I'm so sick of having to be the Bigger Person. I get upset about things. I deserve apologies. As much as anyone else. Fucking annoying how being mature makes you kind of powerless in relationship dynamics. Maybe I need to be less desperate and set some better boundaries. In fact I know that's true. But I also have a larger underlying issue, one that River articulated to me more clearly than I had thought about it. I like to talk to people close to me about my achievements, small and large, I like praise and I like to show off a little bit - my ego comes from the fact that I don't get the praise I need from the people I want. And I'm not sure how to solve that problem without filling my inner circle with people who appreciate me more. If you have any tips on how to not desire praise, let me know I guess? And none of this "you only need your own praise" stuff - I already think I'm the greatest <3

Well no poetic ending to this one. I'll update after the event tomorrow on whether River shows her (beautiful) face.

Smitten & hopeful,

Flora

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mymelodyheart · 4 years ago

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All I Want For Christmas Is You Chapter 4 ~Revelations and Snogs~

Previously in A Christmas Request ...

"Claire?"

"Hmmm?" Her voice was like a breathless whisper, and he wasn't sure if he imagined the yearning look in her eyes. It took all his self-control to keep from kissing her right there and then. Instead, he locked down all his muscles and willed himself to think of animals that start with the letter D. And all his damn brain could summon was the word dragonfly.

"May I ask ye a favour?"

"I don't kiss on the first date," she said too quickly, but her words contradicted her manner as she stared at his lips.

"That wasn't what I was gonnae ask ye."

"Oh!" Her eyes flew to his, and she blushed profusely. "Oh, well, that depends on the favour then."

He swallowed hard and leaned forward, taking her hands in his. "Will ye spend the rest of yer holiday with me?" He cleared his throat. "What I'm trying to ask of ye is, will ye stay here until the Three Kings ...until it's time for ye to go back to London?"

She blinked thrice.

"Alright."

"Alright?" A lungful of air whooshed out of him.

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

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Alrighty Beauchamp, what have you just done?

Grabbed life by the balls? Isn't that the mantra?

Nope!

What do you mean nope?

Those are not your words. Not our words.

Yes, they are. You know, live in the moment and la-di-dah!?

Nope, definitely not.

Whose are they then?

Annalise's.

Ah, well ...

Claire mentally shrugged.

"Sassenach?"

She snapped out of her tunnel vision, then looked at the big hands still holding hers. She was still trying to wrap her head around the idea of agreeing to spend the rest of her holiday with a total stranger. Who are you and what have you done with the ol' Beauchamp? "I'm sorry. I was thinking of Annalise. This is our holiday together, you see. I just agreed to spend the rest of my holiday here without consulting her." She shook her head and laughed despite the conflicting thoughts floating around her head. "I'm quite sure she'll be fine with it. She's the one who's always pushing me to be more spontaneous."

He squeezed her hands. "I'm flattered to be the reason for your spontaneity."

Her face heated. "I've never done this before ...just so you know."

He tried to catch her eye, and when she returned his gaze, he gave her a lop-sided smile. "Neither have I."

Oh, he's so good. Claire blew out a breath and stilled her heart. "That's comforting to know," she said, trying not to look too flustered. Knowing so little about him, she knew she should be wary, but for some reason, she felt safe. Everything about him was brand-new and familiar at the same time. It's as if there had been a melody playing in her head for her entire life, and he'd finally given it words.

"And Analise is welcome to stay too," Jamie quickly reassured her. "Ye said ye're booked at the Airbnb until Boxing day, but I dinnae think there'll be any guarantee ye'll be able to extend yer stay there with it being high season and all. But we have a family cottage that we rent out for the long term, and it was recently vacated. With all the Christmas fuss and work during the past few weeks, we never got around to letting it. Ye and Annalise are welcome to stay there for the rest of yer holiday." And then he grinned. "I'm quite certain my brother would be thrilled with the idea of yer friend staying too."

Claire laughed. "You're probably right. They seemed to have hit it off."

"Ye could say the same for us, don't ye agree?" he asked in a low voice.

She stared at him. How could he looked so calm and collected when she hadn't figured out how to articulate what she was feeling? On top of it all, it seemed he'd perfected the art of persuasion with finesse, so much so, she'd immediately jumped at his invitation to stay in Broch Mordha without a second thought, surprising herself. When it came to the dating game, she would have equated over-confidence to smugness which as a rule turned her immensely off. But there's a sincerity to Jamie's flirting that she found all too endearing and very charming.

She searched his face. Ready or not, she was curious to explore the unfamiliar emotions this beautiful man was drawing out of her. In her history of dating, no man had ever moved her to make her take the leap of faith. Deep down, something always seemed to be missing, and she'd simply put it down to her inability to know what she wanted. To say her hope of finding herself in a romantic relationship had taken a hit would be an understatement.

When her last date had ended in a blaze of abject embarrassment after she was accused of being a cock-tease, she'd decided she was done with men, at least for the foreseeable future. She had a concrete five-year plan, and getting involved with someone when her heart wasn't a hundred per cent into it, wasn't one of them. Annalise continued to hassle her to dive back in into the dating pool head first, but she'd been content to wade in the shallow end. It may have been frustrating to never take the plunge, but at least, there was a nil chance of her drowning in a sea of mistake. But now?

"Baby steps," she whispered.

"Sorry ...I didn't quite catch that."

She pulled her hands from his hold and drank the rest of her already cold Dutch coffee. When she finally placed the mug down, she looked up and smiled at him. "That rental cottage you were talking about, can I at least give you some money for it?"

He shook his head. "No way. In case ye've forgotten, I invited ye to stay."

"But you've been paying for everything all evening. Hardly seems fair."

"Spending my hard-earned quid for the pleasure of a gorgeous lass' company? Every penny spent is worth it if ye ask me."

When he talked like that, she knew her blush wasn't going to fade anytime soon. "Annalise will disapprove, and I'm pretty sure she will want to have her say in the matter."

"And so will Willie."

"Are you always this stubborn?" she countered.

"Only if I want something badly."

They have a stare-off for a few heartbeats before Jamie tore his gaze away and cleared his throat.

He glanced down at his watch. "So, the last horse carriage ride around the village is in about twenty minutes. We should probably get going."

"Horse carriage ride?"

"Aye. Part of the Christmas night tour." He got up from his seat and gallantly offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

It's so old-fashioned and chivalrous, she laughed out loud. "Well, I guess we shall." As soon as she linked her hand into the crook of his elbow, he sucked in a quick breath. "Are you alright?"

He looked down at her hand on his arm and smiled. "Aye. I'm just concerned I might have trouble adhering to yer nae-kiss-on-first-date rule."

They headed out of the cafe and into the frosty air, and she was acutely aware of the low voltage electricity buzzing around them. "Would it help if I put my retainers on? I have them in my bag. I usually put them on at night."

"No, not really. I just have to remind myself of the promise I made to Annalise before we left the pub earlier."

"What promise was that?"

"I promised her I'd behave otherwise ..."

"Otherwise?"

"I have to face the consequences."

She laughed. She knew Annalise's threat so well and by heart as the same lines had been often used to warn her dates in the past. "Well, let me see ...did she say if you misbehave she's going to show you the end of the world up close. And she's going to let you see the kingdom come with your own eyes by sending you straight to the southern hemisphere and letting the ashes of death rain all over you."

He grinned at her. "Something like that. How she's going to achieve that, I have nae idea."

"Never mind how. If you keep on focusing on Annalise's threat, that should be deterrent enough."

He gave her a sceptical shrug. "If ye say so." And then he looked down at her and winked. "But then again, ye're worth tempting fate for."

..........

Claire found herself being hoisted into a festively decorated horse-drawn carriage with twinkling garlands, gold & white berries. To her amusement, even the shire horses were wearing faux antlers. As she sat down, she felt their buggy dipped low as Jamie followed and settled next to her, putting the gift bags on the floor and pulling the woollen blanket over them. As their transport rumbled and creaked into motion, he put an arm behind her, resting it the edge of their seat's backrest, leaving her no alternative but to lean against the curve of his body. His closeness and the motion of their carriage added another layer of tension to her already overworked adrenal glands.

"Comfy?" he whispered, leaning into her, his warm breath on her ear.

"Uh-huh," she managed, licking her lips that had gone suddenly dry. It was a challenging feat to ignore Jamie's presence when his sheer size encroached her space, his thigh brushing against hers and the motion of the ride, sinking her deeper under his arm.

She forced herself to focus on the sounds of the hooves and bells, and admire the trees wrapped in lights, wreaths adorning almost every window, and Santas or nutcrackers standing guard outside front doors. For once, Jamie didn't speak, and she allowed herself to relax, revelling the clean, crisp air of the Highlands. Although Broch Mordha was nothing like London, quieter and had a slower pace of life, the atmosphere in the village was electric. It was almost magical, more natural and everything seemed to make more sense, instead of the rat race that occurred daily and nightly in the big city.

Every year, at around Christmas time, she came back to the Highlands in search of some peace, and every time she returned to London, she always felt like a brand new person, invigorated, well-rested and ready to tackle the New Year. But there was something different about her visit in Broch Mordha compared to the other places she'd been to in the Highlands, and she had a feeling deep in her guts, she'd have trouble leaving this place once her holiday was over.

"Ye dinnae look tired at all, Sassenach. Ye're used to staying up late?"

She glanced up at Jamie and smiled. "I sleep very little. I don't know, maybe I have insomnia."

"Really? Perhaps it's just a consequence of living in the city. I mean it's loud there, and I presume ye live in a flat where ye can hear the comings and goings of yer neighbours."

She sighed. "Yes, there's that. The flat Annalise and I live in is not really the most tranquil setting. It doesn't help that I am an overthinker."

"What do ye think mostly about when ye cannae sleep?"

"Mostly about work," she shrugged, glancing at the lights overhead that were hung above the streets. "Don't get me wrong. I'm happy, and I'm grateful for the good life I have. It's just that sometimes I think about the day when I would stop searching for ..."

Jamie waited for her to finish her sentence, but she couldn't find the words. "For what?" he finally asked, his hand squeezing her shoulder, urging her on.

"More," she replied candidly, surprising herself with the unguarded utterance that came from her very soul, ragged with honesty and desire for something she didn't have a name for. Yet. Suddenly, the empty place inside her reared up, seeking company. "How about you? What do you think most of at night?" She paused, trying to tamp down the sudden curiosity that flared up, but it was out before she could stop herself. "A certain lass perchance?"

To her astonishment, she felt him tensed beside her, and after a few seconds, he let out a sigh. "I have nightmares," he confided.

Her head jerked up, and she twisted in her seat to look into his eyes. He was probably waiting for her to ask a torrent of questions, but she remained silent, allowing him to set the pace of their conversation. She nodded her head to continue.

"I used to be with the SAS. It's a special force unit for the British army. The unit I was in was responsible for a number of roles including covert reconnaissance, counter-terrorism, direct action, and hostage rescue. My best friend, Simon MacKimmie, was captured while spying behind the enemies' lines. He was a valuable informant for both sides, and my team were under direct orders to get him out of there alive and as swiftly as possible." She watched as his throat worked as if he saw the scene replaying in his mind. "We found him quickly enough and thought we were out of the woods. But the enemy fire broke out just as we were about to board the helicopter. Simon and I were hit, but my wound was superficial, whereas my friend's injury was fatal. I promised him everything would be alright and would make sure he stayed alive for his family. Before he slipped away, he made me promise to take care of his wife, Laoghaire, if he didn't make it. She was pregnant at the time. I didn't hesitate and made a vow to keep that promise."

"Oh, Jamie ..."

He pressed his lips into a determined line. "Months later, I was discharged from the army after I was diagnosed with PTSD. I resigned myself to a quiet life as the flashbacks from the horrors of the war and friend's death worsened. Laoghaire and I became close, as we talked a lot about Simon and I helped her with the things she needed. That was when I found my purpose in life again, and even though I wasn't in love with her, I loved her like I loved Simon so I asked her to marry me so that I could take care of their child. It was a sacrifice, aye, but it was a small price to pay, considering I get to live, and my mate will never get to see his unborn child. So we planned to marry after the child was born. So while we were waiting for the big day, I bought a house for us, and my brother helped me restore it."

"But Laoghaire didnae want to live here. She wanted us to move to Liverpool because she couldnae stand the quiet and the remoteness even though she was born and bred here. I told her we would talk about it after the baby was born. But I was worried that living in the city would make my PTSD worse. Meanwhile, rumours were going around that Laoghaire has been seeing another man when Simon was still alive and that she would often disappear to Liverpool weeks at a time. I ignored it as I didnae care for idle gossips and dismissed it as such. Ye see, she lived and worked in Liverpool before she married Simon; hence, I thought, that was where the rumours had stemmed from. She's a very ambitious lass and has this dream of making it big one day. Anyway, to cut a long story short, I later found out from a reliable source that not only had she cheated on Simon, but she cheated on me while were engaged. I began to wonder if the child she was carrying was even Simon's. While I was building her a house and funding her trips to Liverpool, she was seeing the same man she'd been meeting up with when Simon was still alive. When I confronted her, she admitted to it. So the wedding was cancelled, and she went to Liverpool to give birth to her child and to be with the other man ."

He shook his head at the memory. "She reminded me of someone I used to pursue. She'd rather be with a man wearing a five grand suit than be with a labourer like me. I guess it's the lure of the city. Sometimes I feel like I failed Simon and his family. I made him all sorts of promises that I couldnae keep and the memory of the glimmer of hope he had in his eyes turning to death, keep recurring in my dreams."

Claire knew the last things Jamie needed were apologies and pities. He seemed like a proud man who didn't shy away from responsibilities and was unapologetically himself. "I guess we both have demons that keep us up at night," she finally said.

Jamie shrugged and waved his hand. "Dinnae fash. I didnae take ye out so ye could watch me wallow. I've done enough of that myself."

She took a deep breath. "I'm not going to pretend I wholly understand everything you've been through, but one thing I know is that you being part of the SAS means you were trained with the elite. You were drilled to save lives, and with that comes, precision and no room for error. So when something goes wrong, and someone dies during your watch, it becomes your fault."

He looked at her as furrows deepened on his brows.

She placed a hand over his. "You tried to absolve your guilt of not being able to save your mate's life by taking care of Laoghaire, who was so undeserving of your kindness and generosity. God or a higher power or the universe, or whatever you wish to call it, is trying to show you something important. You don't get to choose, Jamie. At the end of the day, you can only do your best, but you can't save everyone. No one can. Right now you're learning to live with that, and all you can do now is make sure you get to the other side. You can't take responsibility for everyone's action but yours."

Something lit up in Jamie's eyes. Emboldened by the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, she grinned at him. "No wonder you won at the caber toss and your team trashed the opponents at shinty today. You have so much pent up emotions dying to come out."

Jamie suddenly laughed out loud and pulled her against him. "I think I need to fire my therapist and hire ye, Sassenach. All this time, we'd circled around the realisation, always walking on eggshells. But ye ...ye just gave it to me straight. I think I'll need ye to stay longer past three kings."

She poked him on the ribs. "Be careful what you wish for!"

..........

A couple of hours and a glass of mulled cider each later, they walked in silence as Jamie guided her down the path that led to the bed and breakfast cottage. As it turned out, he lived three minutes walk away from where she and Annalise were staying.

After spending a whole night out with him, her body was still buzzing with so much energy. She'd never had such a powerful reaction to a man before. Nor enjoyed the company of one as much as she did tonight. She felt like she could uproot all the trees that stood on her path.

"I had a really grand time," he said.

"Me too. Thank you for a wonderful evening."

"And thank ye for the company."

As they neared bed and breakfast cottage, she realised they were exchanging lame small talk, but there's nothing lame about what's passing between them. Either way, she couldn't care less as she'd never laughed so hard in her life.

When they finally reached the small gate, she stopped and turned around to face him. "Well, here we are," she smiled, trying to conceal her reluctance to go.

He hooked the giftbags onto the wooden gate and nodded tensely, the tightness in his jaw quite evident. "Aye. Here we are at Mrs Fitz's place. I ken the ol' dear. She used to feed me and my brother jam piece and milk when we were bairns." He took a step forward and cleared his throat. "I ...um ...tonight was really special."

"I think so too. Thank you again for everything."

He ran a hand through his hair and blew out a breath. "I'm no' tired yet, so I'm just going to take a walk some more until I'm ready for bed," he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

"Yes, you do that. Fresh air is good for you. And I ...ah ... I'll talk to Annalise about extending our stay here. Ah well ... that's if she's still awake." She rolled her eyes and let out a nervous laugh. "Or if she's home. So ... I'll see you around?"

"Aye, I'm just down the road if ye need anything."

"Yes. Got it. Down the road. A hop, skip and jump away."

He stared for a few heartbeats, then ran his hand behind his neck and gave her a crooked smile. "I meant it, Sassenach. If ye cannae sleep, ye can drop by anytime. I'm a light sleeper. Apart from personalised packaged-tours, I also specialise in making a mean toddy to help ye sleep. And a wicked mushroom omelette if its breakfast ye want. Oh, aye, I'm good at foot massage as well."

She stifled a giggle threatening to burst as a ball of warmth bloomed in her belly. "I have no doubt you're good at those things. I'll bear what you said in mind if I need anything or if I have trouble sleeping. And if I have a sudden urge for a foot massage, I'll pop by."

He shook his head. "Ye're not just saying that to spare my feelings are ye?"

"No. Of course not. I enjoy your company. So ..." Claire took a deep breath. "...this is it. Good night, Jamie. And thank you again for everything." Oh, dear God, I keep saying thank you! She stood on her tiptoes to give him a peck on his cheek just as he offered his hand. Their sudden awkward movement made her lose her balance, bumping her nose on his jaw. They both took a step back and laughed. This time she held out her hand, and he shook it.

They continued to stand there and shake hands, neither of them letting go, their smile slowly ebbing away as they stared at each other.

Jamie was the first to speak. "Right, this is the part where I watch ye walk away."

"Yes. I'll go now. It's getting late." She smiled as she took a tentative step away from him, but he didn't let go of her hand.

Her bottom hit the wooden post behind her as Jamie took another step forward. His height and breadth blocked out the street light, and in the shadows, his expression looked almost pained. She'd had men looked at her with desire before, but nothing like the way Jamie was doing right now. The way his jaw and muscles tensed and his breathing shallowed, she knew it was taking him a lot of effort to hold himself back. Her eyes travelled down to his throat and watched his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.

"Sassenach." His voice cut through the haze, and her eyes flew to his as he leaned down and cupped her face. "Maybe ye could stay for just a wee while more."

Her heart began to thump wildly against her ribs as the air between them charged. "I really should get going," she whispered, the blood roaring through her ears almost deafening. She willed herself to move, but she remained fixed on the spot.

"Or perhaps ye can just stand here for a few minutes more and let me do this."

She stopped breathing and time stood still as he softly brushed his lips across hers. Then he pulled away for a brief second waiting for her to object, and when she didn't, he kissed her again.

Her brain seized, and her eyes automatically closed. She'd never felt lips so soft nor been kissed with such gentleness. She once read an Oscar Wilde quote, and it said, "A kiss may ruin a human life." It had puzzled her then because up until now, she'd always thought, although some kisses were sweet it was nothing more than two people putting their faces together and exchanging spit. But Jamie's kiss? She knew it had ruined her for any future kisses. This was the type of kiss she never even knew existed. It was the kind of kiss that inspired stars to climb into the sky and light up the world.

She waited with bated breaths for more, but nothing happened.

When she opened her eyes, he was staring at her. "I've wanted to kiss ye from the moment I laid my eyes on ye," he whispered and grazed her lips once more. "Ye've nae idea how beautiful ye are."

Oh, sweet Jesus! He'd barely touched her. It was merely a light brushing of their lips and the slightest sensation of his breath on her face. But it was enough to cause the static crackling between them to be ignited, and she was left wanting more.

Before she could reassemble her thoughts and make sense of her emotions, he stepped away from her and tunnelled his fingers through his hair. "May I please have yer phone, Sassenach?"

"Oh! Wot for?"

He smiled at her. "I'm giving ye my number."

She reached into the back pocket of her jeans and handed her phone over. She watched him dial his own number on her screen, and after a few seconds later, his own phone rang.

"There, now I have yers too." He pushed her phone into her back pocket and blew out a breath. "I'll see ye tomorrow?"

"You want to see me again?" she teased, smiling.

"I dinnae even want to leave ye tonight."

She dropped her head down to hide the heat creeping up her face. "I'll see what's Annalise is up to and we'll take it from there. I'll either call you or send a message."

He placed a finger under her chin and tipped her face up. "Ye're not mad I kissed ye? I havenae forgotten yer rules about first dates."

Claire picked up the gift bags, stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. And then she smiled. "I'm starting to believe the rules don't apply to you. Good night, Jamie." And with that, she turned around and walked towards the cottage without looking back, knowing full well Jamie was still stood there waiting for her until she'd safely made it to the house.

Once inside, she allowed herself to slide down to the floor and relived the memory of their first kiss. And she sat there for a very long time.

Dear Readers,

Here's a little story about this chapter. I got stuck at the beginning of writing this one. So what did I do? I started writing from the middle, then the conclusion and finished the opening in the end. It's common to get stuck in writing, so I thought I'd share this wee tip with you. So just in case, the latest update lost some of its fluidity, you now know the reason why. 😀

Anyway, thank you for reading and your feedback from the previous chapter. It's something I truly appreciate. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I look forward to reading your thoughts. Meanwhile, sending you all best wishes and hope you're taking care of yourselves and your health. x

#melodyheart #all I want for christmas is you #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser #outlanderfanfic

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wordynerdygurl · 4 years ago

Text

Sticky, Sweet

Author’s Note: I’m so pleased to tell you that this is the first of my 1000 Followers Requests! Again, how do 1000 people like me enough to read my words? I don’t know!! But I love you all! Also, bless my beta - @sammy-jo1977 ... she lets me drag her to hell and back, and goes willingly. Lots of Love, lady! Pairing: Loki x Female Reader, appearances from many of the Avengers Tower residents Summary: This was requested by the amazing, adorable and always supportive @alexakeyloveloki ... As I hit my milestone, she was having a birthday, and this, I hope will be a gift she’ll enjoy. You deserve it girl! The request was: One with Loki and a Curvy Reader where she works in the Tower, maybe the canteen, and people are mean to her and Loki likes her for some odd reason and... smut ensues. I did make some changes, but I hope you’ll enjoy it either way, @alexakeyloveloki !! Warnings: This one might give you a toothache! There’s smut, but it’s sweet!

“Uh, yes. Might I trouble you for a chocolate croissant and… a cappuccino, large, please.”

You knew the owner of that voice without raising your eyes. Today he was wearing charcoal grey slacks with straight creases all the way down. A shirt, starched, bright white, with rolled back sleeves revealing the articulate length of his forearms. All of his dark locks were gathered over his open collar in a low man bun, which is something you had laughed at other men for doing. Somehow, the tall, trim man in front of you was making it work in a way that made your mouth water.

Flashing him a megawatt smile, full of promise, “My pleasure! Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“No. Thank you, though.”, warm and caramel sweet, his response made you melt.

Clearing your throat, struggling to maintain some sense of composure, “A name… for the order?”

“Loki… that’s L, O, K, I…”, his own grin widening at the request.

You knew his name. He’d been coming to your little dessert cart for months now and every time you asked, just like you did for all of your customers. And each time he spelled out the letters for you, as if you were taking his order for the first time. Handing back change only for him to drop it into the tip jar, you let your eyes linger over Loki just a moment more, enjoying the view.

Most of the visitors to Avengers Tower paid you little to no attention. Outside of offering a cup of joe and a giant cookie, you had no bearing on the day to day business of the super hero syndicate, and that was just fine by you. Everyone else? They all had important things to do. Meetings and appointments were near constant as apparently saving the world took a lot of planning. And, thankfully, a lot of coffee, danish and muffins.

Of all your customers, the actual, swear to God heroes were the most colorful. They were also the most loyal of your clients, stopping in at least daily, although, there were occasions where you would see Wanda two or three times in a day. Especially if you had made those little mille-feuille stacks that reminded her of home.

Thor would buy out your stash of jelly donuts, to the chagrin of the office workers in line behind him, but then divvy them up as a way of apologizing. Ms. Romanoff had a tendency to whisper her order, lest anyone realize her secret desire for a sinfully sweet White Chocolate Mocha with whipped cream. Captain Rogers? His routine was the most straight-forward. Black coffee, ma’am, Blueberry muffin, thank you so much.

Loki, from the start, had been different. Unlike Mr. Stark, Loki looked you in the eye when placing his order. He never seemed distracted by the technology buzzing around or the high ranking officials clustered in these hallowed halls. Loki also didn’t order 12 shots of espresso, steamed skim milk, no foam, and one donut hole. No, that was Tony to a t.

But Loki? This giant guy, with broad shoulders and narrow hips, always ordered your daily special. Frilly pink cupcakes, jam filled eclairs, fruity hand pies, Loki had tasted them all. And he still turned up, day after day, eager and kind. That had to mean something, right?

Honestly, it was the pinnacle of your day when, looking up from the grinder, you’d see him towering majestically over the office drones all in a row. Knowing that smooth voice would soon be speaking to you, even if it was just to get a snack on the run, was almost enough. Almost.

Letting your gaze linger after Loki’s retreating figure, you got lost in a daydream, one where you were making Loki coffee in your kitchen. His lengthy legs tucked under your tiny table, a tray of fresh cookies in front of him as he read, sometimes with his shirt on… sometimes without. Feeling your cheeks warm up at the image, you shook your head, ready to refocus on the caffeine craving customers still in line.

As closing time drew near, you began the daily task of cleaning up your cart. Sweeping, wiping, sterilizing, washing, drying. There was a rhythm to it all and you often found yourself entrained in the work, as usually there were few distractions at this time of day.

“Excuse me?”

Spinning, surprised, you barely kept hold of the carafe in your hands as you spotted Ms. Pepper Potts standing at your kiosk, “Oh gosh! I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there!”

Waving away your worry, Pepper took a moment to introduce herself properly before getting down to business, “I was wondering if you had ever considered catering before? You were highly recommended by a colleague and I am looking for assistance with an event we're hosting in a few weeks. What I really need is someone to help with an after hours sort of thing.”

Your heart leapt in your chest, thumping wildly, threatening to bust out of your chest. Now, you’d be lying if you said that expanding your business wasn’t part of the dream. Always hopeful that your little cafe cart could somehow be expanded into a little sweet shop or bistro bakery, you had been hard at work for the last two years, slinging lattes and refining recipes until the right moment arrived.

When you said as much to Ms. Potts, her gracious smile lit up, “Then this, my friend, is that moment.”

Details were exchanged, pricing negotiated, plans put in place. In ten days you were going to be providing The Avengers and their guests with pastries, cookies, coffee and tea. There was a select menu so that you wouldn't be running around like crazy, which would make prep time easy, but Pepper had told you to be creative. In short, you were getting your shot and the excitement of that put you on cloud nine.

As you had arranged with Ms. Potts, while the guests attended one of Mr. Stark’s lavish galas downtown, you were given access to the Avengers Suite near the top floors of the tower. Seeing the building, well past your normal 5:00 pm, was energizing. Getting to sneak a peek at where the most important people working here spent their days was overwhelming, but you were giddy at the prospect.

In a sweet spot, just inside the expansive glass doors which led to the sky rise patio, you set up your display. Feeling pretty proud of yourself, you only had to wait a few minutes before the elevator dinged on the first arrivals, including the host and hostess for the night. "Here we go!", whispering to yourself, you took an anxiously excited breath.

It was hard not to get wrapped up in the glitz of it all. Tony Stark, wearing a plum colored tuxedo, had his Rolex draped arm around Pepper. She was stunning in her black column gown, purple jewels at her throat and ears, the perfect counterpoint to Tony’s ensemble. You struggled not to stare.

More people filtered in, some went to the bar, where champagne popped regularly. A few grabbed frosty glasses of fresh beer. And for a time you thought you were invisible among all the glamour around you. Honestly, you were surrounded by the type of people who graced magazine covers and had in depth chats with Oprah. That wasn’t you by a long shot.

Then, of course was the difference in your shape and size compared to the elegant group assembled for the evening. You certainly weren’t as stately as Ms. Potts, nor as thin as Ms. Romanoff because she was trimmer in hip and bust. Carol, stately and graceful, was a sheet of well hewed muscle. All of them shone tonight, regal and lovely, while you wore your best black pants and white button down, the uniform of catering professionals world wide.

Chewing the inside of your cheek, temping your coffee pot, your mind churned. There was no shaking the idea that even though you had been invited here, hired to be here, you were woefully out of place. And just as your confidence was at its lowest, you heard it… or rather, him.

"Um… yes. May I have… well… I don't know what to have. Normally you have something special prepared."

Even over the din of chatter and softly played music you heard his baritone register. A little flustered, disarmingly charming, Loki’s buttercream smile triggered your own. Laughing, lifting a small tray towards Loki, "I am keeping it simple tonight. These here are individual peach melba pies, topped with homemade whipped cream."

"And, what’s that?" Looking like a little kid, ready to tear into a birthday present, Loki's face lit up with anticipation of what you might be hiding under the cover of a chafing dish.

"Mocha mini-cheesecakes, or-" Here you lifted the silver lid of your best party dish, "-my grandmother's chocolate chip cookies! What would you like, Loki?"

Hearing his name in your lilting voice, Loki couldn't avoid the hot blush that rolled over him, turning his cheeks pink. As if your delicious snacks weren't enticing enough, the way your shirt buttons could barely contain the bounty of your bosom made Loki's hunger real in a different way. It was true that Thor had plied him with a great deal of Asgardian mead at the gala, even as the others drank up the less potent Midgardian spirits, all getting well past tipsy.

And maybe that's why he felt so bold, flirting with you casually, teasing you about your treats. Also, he was shamelessly ogling your rounded ass in those tight black pants as you bent to retrieve a napkin. Deep down, Loki longed to know if you tasted as sweet as your sugary confections. Would you be slick like syrup? Sticky like cinnamon buns? Dark and delicious like chocolate fudge?

Shaking those long locks, which you couldn't help noticing were down and free tonight, Loki was struggling to decide among your snacks. If his thoughts were lustful, your own weren't too far behind, because it was hard not to appreciate the fine figure in front of you. At some point Loki had shucked his tuxedo jacket and the slim black bow tie that accompanied it. Again his sleeves were pushed up to his elbows making him casual and cool, red cheeked and rambunctious. Never had Loki seemed so at ease.

There was virtually no one else around, most of the remaining people were clustered by Clint at the piano singing show tunes, oblivious to you and Loki. Looking from left to right, leaning in conspiratorially, "Ya know… I could let you have one of each, then you wouldn't have to decide."

Those dark brows arching, bright eyes smiling shrewdly, "You'd do that… for me?"

“That and more.” It tumbled out of your mouth unbidden, your eyes widening in surprise at your own admission.

Leaning against your table, a lascivious smile on his face, “Do tell.”

And in the low light of the Avengers’ loft, with the soft smell of sugar filling the air, you felt yourself drawn to Loki’s aura. Biting into your bottom lip, looking at him through your thick lashes, “Um… well… I could make you a little snack bag. Ya know for later tonight…”

“Later tonight… I really like the sound of that.” And to his unending surprise, Loki really did. Maybe he’d find out about your favorite flavors in the dark of night, under the covers in his bed. And if not, if he was somehow mistaken about your interest in him, then Loki would welcome some little cake that would make him think of you while he sat in his solitary room, brooding over you.

He shouldn’t have worried. Genuinely smiling, Loki was beyond grateful to see the same look of desire reflected in your own face. As you busied yourself packing up the little box of selected snacks for the sweet toothed stud, a voice called out, "Lokes!! Get over here!! Thor says you can dance and I need proof!"

Wavering slightly, Loki ducked his head in the direction of Sam Wilson's shout, not entirely eager to end your chat. He was worried that somehow the sugar spun bubble you two were in would burst, and that, well that just couldn't happen. Conspiratorially, invading your space across the narrow table, "I will be back. Please, don't go away?"

Feeling like a movie heroine, you felt yourself nod, giggling a little at the spectacle of Loki's clear need. In the glimmering low-lights, under the clink of champagne flutes and husky hum of conversations, Loki wanted to spend his time with you. It was surreal and surprising, but you wanted him too. There was no shame in that, right?

Glued to the spot, feet unmoving, Loki wouldn't leave until you said, "Go on, then. Show me what you've got. I'll be right here."

With a cocky grin, Loki loped toward the waiting circle of people and the makeshift dance floor. Tinny, tinkling piano music was replaced by electronica, pumping through Tony's beyond state of the art sound system. It felt like you were inside the speaker, thumping and bumping, in time with the dance hall beat.

What a sight! You guessed it shouldn't have been so surprising, but seeing Loki, normally so reserved in your daily interactions, grinding and bouncing to the rhythm… it made you feel things. Pulse pounding, deep sighing, clenching your muscles things. Sexy things.

You could have stood there, enchanted from afar, for hours. And you would have too, if Thor hadn't stumbled to your stand, nearly toppling the table with his unsteady bulk, "Oof! A thousand apologies, my dear sweet bakery maiden."

Diverting your attention, you quickly stepped back into vendor mode, "No trouble! No trouble at all! What can I get for you?"

"Well, I have been wondering, what did my brother get a taste of that made him smile so wide? It must have been a truly delicious nibble." Thor, mimicking a mouse nibbling at cheese, was clearly past the point of sobriety.

Turning thoughtful for a second, you realized Loki hadn't eaten anything of yours tonight… at least not yet. So it had been your easy back and forth that made the frosty boy happy. Smiling secretively, suddenly supremely pleased, "Um… I have some special items this evening. Would you like to try a peach pie?"

Blowing a raspberry, rolling his eyes, "Did Loki like it?"

"He hasn't tried it yet! You'd be first!" Trying to redirect the sloshed slab of man in front of you, offering the pastry up on a dainty napkin, it’s funny how quickly he snatches it from your hand. Looking tiny in Thor's enormous paw, he devours it whole, swiping at the leftover crumbs on his chest.

"Delicious! Another!" Even shouting, Thor's voice doesn't crack through the party goers busting their moves. Sighing, you hand over another, only to watch it be gulped down without thought or consideration.

Spitting crust at you, Thor bows over the display you painstakingly built to showcase your wares, his weight making the table creak, "You know, my brother normally likes little women."

"Excuse me?"

Waving his hands, pontificating, "Small, shapely… you know the type! Waifs. Skinny, like him. Narrow hips and-" attempting to whisper, "-tiny breasts."

Clearly, Thor was hammered, you knew that. But what he was saying was just hard to hear. You didn’t want to be compared to other women Loki had known, and you certainly didn’t want to hear that they were prettier, or smaller, or skinnier than you. But your roller coaster ride of emotions was derailed when Thor slapped his hand on your table, making you jump.

"Now, you… you're a woman. Strong, sturdy. Could really ground him, you know? Give him children worthy of Valhalla."

In his stupor, Thor couldn't read the warning in your expression. Willing him to stop, shut up, go away with just your monosyllabic responses wasn't working. But, alas, the Space God continued on, "It's all your sweets, you know? Candy and cupcakes and… all those little… What do you call them? The circles, fried and filled with jam?"

Flat, without feeling, "Donuts."

"Donuts! Yes!" Pausing for a breath, which you hoped would last all night long, Thor caught your eye. "I approve. Of the match… that is. Loki has been alone too long. He needs a thick woman to warm his bed, a fair, faithful filly to take-"

Thor's voice cut out, a thin line of shimmering red glowing around his throat, stopping his words. You could still see his mouth moving but the sound was, thankfully, muted. It was then that Wanda slunk close to Norse God, wide orb-like eyes full of knowledge, "I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner."

Mumbling, struggling to sound bright as you gave too much attention to arranging cookies on the tray, "It's ok."

Her delicate hand rested on your own, "No it isn't. Thor's a buffoon when he's downed too many bottles of mead. I hope he didn't say anything too… unpleasant."

Waving her off, working hard to regain your composure, "Naw… it's fine… Thank you, though."

Thor, shrugging off Wanda's limited charm, "What's the big idea? I was telling this lady that my brother likes her! Her ample bosom, her gracious bum… and he always talks about her tasty cakes!"

Steve, sidling up at the first sign of trouble, grabbed Thor's arm, "Come on buddy. Time for bed."

"But! I am not tired! I want more pie! And mead!"

Wanda, rolling her eyes, "May I have another? For the road?"

Quickly wrapping up a few of your crusty delicacies, you handed them over, now eager for the night to end. It seemed tarnished somehow, spoiled by Thor's observations, like an unrisen souffle. Glancing at the clock, you were amazed at the time! It was late even for a late night event and you began packing up regardless of the people still partying their evening away.

You were hoping for a quick departure. Seamless, silent, without distracting anyone, including a certain raven haired hottie. No one would notice if you snuck away now, you were sure, and you had already fulfilled your obligation to Pepper. In fact, with Thor's little outburst, you were well over your allotted time. And, you reasoned, Loki could find some small little twig, more to his taste, if you weren't there to distract him.

That thought made your throat burn and your eyes water as you quietly broke down your area. Even now you could see him, a head above everyone else, spinning with a smile on his face. Loki looked so at ease, you refused to be the wet blanket on his good time. Besides, flirting was one thing, but Loki wasn’t yours and you were old enough not to be crushed by a crush.

With one last, longing look over the assembled Avengers, you bumped your bottom into the exit door, shuffling toward the service elevator. As the doors closed, shutting out the jubilation inside, you slumped against the wall. How could you think Loki would want you?

Having spent a significant amount of the late evening busting a move, Loki had managed to keep one eye on you most of that time. Noticing Thor bumble your way, he was nervous about what his brother might say, but Natasha had challenged him to a dance off. How could he resist?

By the time Loki stopped to catch his breath and collect his cookies, you were gone. Vanished. The only trace of you? A small, golden box, stuffed with your divine delicacies. Loki needn't see the name scrolled on the label to know it was for him.

But like Cinderella, you had fled and Loki had no way to find you. Sinking his heart, Loki clutched the box, padding away to his room and the solitude of silence. At least he had your thoughtful gift of goodies to keep him company. It was almost enough. Almost.

For all the numerous things The Avengers were good at, it was a non-hero who observed Loki slide away, sad and silent. Never one to let a party end on a low note, a new plan was formed to unite the Trickster and the Treat Maker. But it would need time to rise, like decadent cinnamon rolls, and like those sticky sweet buns, would be totally worth the wait.

When Monday dawned, you loaded up your goods and trudged to work. For the first time since starting your business venture your heart wasn't in it. Not when you plated blueberry buckle with lavender scented whipped cream, not when you swirled almond milk into fresh brewed coffee, not when you bagged cheesy bagel bites.

And it was, apparently, to be a day of firsts. Because this was the only day that Loki failed to make an appearance at your stand since you’d opened. Thor, pushing people aside, had made a point of apologizing for his behavior. It was kind and honest, yet, hollow since it didn't make Loki materialize in your line. But you appreciated it, nonetheless.

Before long, the day was done, your cleaning ritual initiated, your mind wandering. That it circled back to a certain blue eyed mischief maker over and over wasn't shocking. Where had Loki been? Had you driven him off? Would he come back tomorrow?

"Ahem… Excuse me!"

Squealing, you dropped the tray you'd been wiping with a clanking clatter, "Miss Potts! You startled me!"

"I didn't mean to!", stooping to hand you back your platter, she lifted her smart eyes to yours.

"I know… I'm so sorry! I've been… a little off today."

Shrewd, searching, Pepper looked you over, "You're not the only one."

Laughing nervously, “Oh? Who else is having a tough Monday?”

“A friend… listen, I wanted to thank you for the other night. It was really wonderful having your exceptional snacks at the ready.”

Allowing yourself a small smile, nibbling your lip nervously, “The pleasure was all mine.”

Pepper, shifting on her high heels, “I’d like to hire you again.”

“Really?” Snapping your head up at the offer, you were a little surprised by her request. Even though that night hadn’t ended the way you had hoped, necking with Loki like a teenager after prom, it had still been a lucrative evening for your little start up company. But so soon?

“Yes! This is a smaller event. Actually, more of a date than anything. This Friday evening. Would you be free?”

Grabbing your phone, confirming the date on your calendar, “It works for me! What time were you thinking?”

Blinking, Pepper took a minute to contemplate before answering, “Let’s say seven. Upstairs, on the outdoor deck?”

“That sounds great, Ms. Potts! How many people are you expecting?”, making notes, head down you missed her gentle smile.

“Just two.”

That made you giggle. So, it was a night of romance with Tony she was after. Flashing your benefactor a knowing smirk, “Sounds lovely.”

“I hope it will be!”

You didn’t see Loki all week. There was rumor going around the tower that he was off on a mission somewhere, very hush, hush. Your limited intell was gained only because of Thor’s inability to lower his booming voice while waiting for a croissant on Tuesday morning.

It got easier. Not seeing him in your daily line, not giving him his cappuccino, not buttering his scone. By Friday you finally felt like Loki was out of your system, which was a good thing, because you knew Ms. Potts was expecting you to knock it out of the park tonight.

“Things are going to be a little different for this evening, if that’s ok. I thought you could set out your dessert courses here, on the counter, and we’d have someone bring them out to the patio area.”

Unafraid to go the extra mile, you were quick to volunteer, “I’d be more than happy to act as a server if-”

Talking over you, “Oh no, dear! I have someone for that already. Really, all you have to do is make sure your treats are in order.”

Slightly crestfallen, but always a good sport, you agreed. As she’d requested, you had prepared three special desserts for the night, hoping you covered all of Tony’s favorite flavors. First, lemon cake with a cracked sugar glaze and fresh raspberry sauce to garnish. Next would be the white chocolate cheesecake studded with plump blueberries and piles of fresh vanilla flavored whipped cream. Last, and perhaps most importantly, was your personal favorite, tiramisu. Simple, delicious, and perfect with a strong cup of espresso.

Clapping her hands, Pepper was so pleased at the thought you had put into each plate, “Wow, does this look amazing! There’s really only one other thing that we need for this.”

Wiping a stray stripe of sauce from the plate, a piping bag cupped in your hands, you lifted your head, “What’s that Ms. Potts?”

“Why, you of course.”

Stalling in midair, you slowly lowered the tool of your trade, wiping your sugary fingers on the seat of your jeans. “I’m right here! What can I do to help?”

Coming around the island now, Pepper drew close enough to take your hands in her own, “You’ve already done it. Tonight is my way of saying ‘Thank You’... and I hope you’ll accept a small gift as a token of my appreciation.”

As the last word hung in the air between you, the lift doors parted, and Loki stepped into the room.

Pepper had summoned him, asking only that he arrive on time and not “look a mess”. Since Loki had never been anything less than elegant in all things, he had no intention of breaking that streak this evening. If only he knew what to dress for?

So, he split the difference, going for casual cool. A jet black polo shirt, unbuttoned, clung to him like a second skin, caressing every muscle. Black trousers and a black belt made him look dangerously seductive as he sauntered closer with each step.

Your mouth went dry at the sight of him. Missing Loki all week made seeing him like this stupefying. Fuzzy brained and dull minded, you weren’t capable of wrapping your head around what was happening.

“Pepper? What… what is all this?” Loki’s husky baritone questioned the set up, your presence, the pretense. At least you weren't the only one who was confused.

Pulling you along, Pepper maneuvered you next to him, “Loki, It’s all arranged. Dessert by candlelight, under the stars… FRIDAY, start my Date Night playlist.” The strains of “In the Still of the Night” by the Five Satins filled the air.

It was right then that Loki got it. The strange summons, the dress code, the secrecy. He knew why you were here, with your bespoke baked goods, looking like a snack yourself. Pepper had listened when Loki recommended you for the first gig, and somehow she had heard the unspoken recommendation of his heart. A rush of feeling flowed over him at the idea.

Looking sheepish and flustered, Loki caught your eye, “Hello.”

“Hi…”, bashful yourself, you struggled not to look too giddy.

“See, you’re already on your way. Have a good night kids!”

You and Loki stood there, staring, until the click of Pepper’s heels on the marble had faded away. This is awkward, you thought, unsure of what to do next. Here with the man you wanted, you weren’t entirely sure what to do, but luckily for you, Loki knew how to take charge, “Shall we?”

Lacing his fingers with yours, Loki led you to the open deck where a small bistro table was waiting, already set for the two of you. Pulling out your chair, Loki made sure you were comfortable before taking his own seat at your side, as opposed to across the table. It was a cozy and romantic scene.

The song shifted. Now The Platters crooned, “Only You”, and your hand was itching to grab Loki’s under the table. Before you could, Pepper’s hired server for the evening brought your first plate, and a bottle of Prosecco.

So far, neither of you had really spoken. Words seemed too difficult to use when the situation was so formal. And yet, it really was lovely of Ms. Potts to do this for you… and for Loki.

“Did you make all of this?”

Picking up your fork, giving Loki a small nod, “Yea… I thought Pepper was planning a date night with Tony. I had no idea that this… any of this… was happening. Did you?”

“No. But, I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised. She did hire you because of me.”

Taken aback by his admission, “Really? Care to elaborate?”

Tucking into the lemony piece of heaven in front of him, Loki closed his eyes in bliss, “Hmm… that is delicious. You are really so good at this! And that, my purveyor of pound cake, is what I told Ms. Potts.”

“Well, thank you! I mean, I knew you liked me!”

Hotter than opening your oven, a blast of heat swept over you, reddening your cheeks in shock. Flustered now, you could barely speak, cursing yourself for letting your real feelings slip out like that unfiltered. Mortified, you grabbed your glass, slugging half of it down in a second.

Loki’s fork froze, almost to his lips, as his own eyes widened. Sighing, he placed the utensil, covered in lemon and raspberry deliciousness down gently. Feeling his scorching gaze, you sat stock still, Loki’s wry whisper reaching you, “I do. And I should have told you that before… before Pepper had to go to such great lengths to prove it.”

“But Loki… I’m just… I’m not…” Stammering, you couldn’t quite find the best way to explain the reservations you had been carrying, the reasons Thor had so clearly defined.

“You are though. You are so kind hearted… to everyone. Even the dullards and bores. I hear you, you know? What you say, how you say it. No one leaves your little station without being complimented, enlightened, enriched. It is the best part of my day, coming down to see you… and taste whatever marzipan masterpiece you’ve graced us with.”

Starting to feel the bubbles of Prosecco in your brain, your lopsided smile spread at the emotion Loki expressed, “Loki… it’s the only thing that gets me through sometimes. Seeing you, knowing that you’re in line. And how cute you are when you spell out your name, like I haven’t written it a hundred times before.”

It was his turn to blush, “I knew that. I knew it was adorable.”

Playfully pushing against his shoulder, you chuckled, “Loki! That’s not fair!”

“Then you won’t like this, darling.”

Catching your arms in his firm hands, Loki tucked your body into his, finding your mouth as you laughed at his antics. Using his top lip to trap your own, Loki’s bottom lip gently parted, as the softness of his kiss blended into the lemon scented sweetness of his sigh. His tongue, probing slowly, pressed between your lips stealing a shaky breath for Loki to treasure.

Rising, Loki’s hands cradled your cheeks, ensuring that you couldn’t break away from his kiss. As if you wanted to! Your own hands wandered, with one resting on the warm slope of his wide thigh and the other pressed against Loki’s broad chest.

Deepening the kiss, you pushed forward, nestling between Loki’s spread legs. Trailing a hand along his hip, scooting closer, you moaned at the luscious texture of his tongue on your own. When Loki pulled back, you followed, unwilling to break the beautiful bond your mouths had sealed.

Swallowing hard, unable to believe that he was really here with the flavor of your candy kisses filling his senses, Loki shook his head. Seeing your own dazed expression made his heart soar. He was going to have to write Pepper a thank you note or have you bake her a cake, because this was the best thing that had ever happened to the Prince of Asgard.

“Are you ready for the next course?” The server, having popped out of the compound, was struggling to hide his own smug smile at the sexy little show you two had put on.

A new song started, the notes drifting through the air, making you smile. Sam Cooke’s eternally youthful voice sang, “Cupid… draw back your bow…” and Loki slowly stood. “Uh, please, hold the next one, if you don’t mind.”

Coming around behind you, offering you his hand, “Loki? What are you doing?”

“What I should have done last week… Ask you to dance…?” Voice brimming with hope, Loki quirked an eyebrow, anticipating your acceptance.

“About time.”

Rumbling through Loki’s solid torso, his laugh greeted you as you fell into his arms easily, chuckling yourself. It was so familiar and yet so different. His hands rested over the curve of your back, pulling you tighter, controlling the sway of your hips. Circling the delicate strength of his neck, your fingers teasing into those long locks of tousled hair, you let Loki take the lead.

Tipping you back, over balancing you but still in control, Loki’s look was pure lust, “I apologize for running late. I should have-”

Cutting in, husking into the shell of Loki’s ear, “Don’t. We’re here now. And besides, you were worth the wait.”

Squeezing you, putting every ounce of feeling into his hug, Loki found it hard to loosen his grip. Now that he had the thing he wanted, he never wanted to be separated from it… you… ever again.

Twirling you out, tugging you back in, as the song came to its close, Loki took the opportunity of dipping you low enough for your head to graze the ground below. Breathless and giddy, you were lifted back to standing, clinging to the demi God before you. Parting your lips, anticipating another of Loki’s kisses, your eyes fluttering closed, “Sir? Madame?”

Shifting his focus from your glossy, eager mouth to the server once more, Loki’s own giggle shining in his face, “My good man, please… just pack it all up! We’re not staying.”

“We’re not?” A hint of surprise colored your tone as you took in the ecstatic look on Loki’s face.

Nodding at you, “Nope.”

Waiting only a moment or two for a bag stuffed full of your goodies, Loki slung it over this wrist before taking your hand and leading you through the Tower’s maze of floors. Of course, he stopped at almost every corner to sneak a peck, pat your tush or cage you against the wall so that his hips were flush against your own as he licked the soft spot under your ear.

“Hmmm… Loki… That feels so good.” Mewling softly, your nails scratching into his scalp, as he swung open the door to his room.

Ushering you inside, Loki paused only to set his blistering, needy eyes on you once more, “We are not children, you and I. If you want to wait, I will be patient… but, believe me, my darling little patisserie, when I say this: I want you. I want to devour you… I want to know if you’re as sweet as strawberry shortcake or tart like key lime pie.

“I need to see if you-” here he swallowed so hard his Adam’s Apple bobbed, “-sigh when I kiss you the same way you do when you slide a hot cup of tea over the counter. Or how you’ll sound when you call my name in ecstasy. Because I’ve already thought about these things a hundred times over. While I wait in line for a moment of your attention or when I taste those lovely delicacies, you fill my thoughts.

“Do you always smell of vanilla and butter, I wonder. Will my sheets be scented with marshmallow and marzipan? Almond and cherry?”

Advancing on you now, hunger heating his look, “But just know, little one, if you do come to my bed, I will make sure it’s the last one you’ll ever need.”

Stepping closer, baiting the bear in him, you bit into your bottom lip, “Are you saying that everyone will know I belong to you… L, O, K, I… Loki?”

“My sweet, sweet thing. That is exactly what I mean.”

In a flurry of movement, Loki swept you against his kitchen table, the wood strong and sturdy behind you. Kisses, hot and happy melted you like butter, as Loki spread your legs to stand between them. When you heard the sound of paper crumpling, “What’s that?”

“Oh! Our to-go bag! Your luscious desserts!” Sounding slightly panicked, Loki quickly removed the items from inside the bag, before turning to you with a look that said trouble.

“What? What’s that face?”

“I’ve told you how much I fancy your food… and now you know how much I adore you... “

“Uh huh…”, still unsure about where this was going, your eyes followed Loki as he pulled your tub of whipped cream from the ruined sack. Snapping off the lid, his long finger scooping out a big glob, only for Loki to brush the airy confection over your mouth.

Licking the cream from your lips, Loki tongued the seam of your pretty pout, moaning at the burst of vanilla he tasted there, “I don’t know what’s more delicious, your frothy garnish or this mouth.”

“What if I want some, huh?” Grabbing at Loki’s finger, the one he’d used to snag the sample with, you pulled it into the warm inlet of your mouth, sucking lightly.

Growling low in his throat at the erotic scene before him, Loki issued a command, “Bedroom. Now.”

Sliding off the table, right into Loki’s space, “Bring the whipped cream though, ok?”

Clothes were shed in a rush. Each piece unveiling soft skin and new places to explore, reminding you of a creme brulee’s hardened caramel layer. The way you crack it open, revealing the cool custard beneath the scorched sugar crust, a gift unwrapped for all your senses.

By the time Loki lowered you onto his bed, he had already sampled swatches of your skin, leaving behind the marks of his possession. His hands never seemed to stop. First they were dusting over your shoulders, then across your thighs, next on your generous bottom, squeezing hard.

Sighing in contentment, you closed your eyes, lost in the moment of making love to Loki. As he lay down over you, the press of his rigid planes met the soft curves of your figure, you wrapped yourself around him. Tangling those rich, dark locks in your hand, forcing your mouths together, panting with shared passion.

Connecting with his hip, you slid your palm over the rise of his bottom, squeezing just a little, “You know, you have a great ass, right?”

Sucking against the ridge of your clavicle, Loki kissed over your jaw, “I do?”

“Oh yea… I watch you walk away everyday thinking, damn. That ass.”

Brushing stray strands from your face, “That’s funny, because I think the same thing every time you bend over to get those little swizzle sticks for stirring coffee!”

Setting off a fit of giggles, the pair of you with arms and legs akimbo, laughed like children. There was something so freeing about being naked and comfortable with the man beside you. Quieting only when you heard the pop of the frosting bowl's lid coming off, you sucked in a breath as Loki lowered his lips to your waiting nipple.

Playful and pleasing, he released you just long enough to sit back on his heels, surveying the state of you. "Now, It's my turn."

"Your turn to what, exactly?"

"Decorate!" Producing an assortment of sprinkles and frosting, sanding sugars and coconut shreds, caramel sauce and raspberry coulis as if from thin air, Loki grinned at you wickedly before setting to work.

For every place that was home to a dollop of icing or a squirt of sauce you were licked, nibbled, nuzzled or bitten. As Loki worked lower, you squirmed in anticipation, as your pastry chef in training sucked your inner thigh free of chocolate fudge. Before you could prepare, Loki's tongue parted your slippery center, making you call out, "Oh! Yes, Loki!"

Parting your swollen sex, circling your stiffened bud, Loki lapped at your sensitive skin gently. His fingers, long and reaching, stroked into your sticky channel, stretching you sweetly. Rocking against Loki's oral affections, the beginning of bliss burning in your belly, you gripped him tightly seeking release.

For his part, Loki needed no encouragement. Bringing you to the pinnacle, alternately sipping at your slick core, and sucking on your sweet pearl was making Loki ache with want. Even when you pulled at his onyx locks, inner thighs trembling, struggling to stave off your peaking pleasure, Loki only worked harder, "Don't hold back. We've already wasted too much time!"

"Uh huh… um… shit… Loki…" mumbling was the most you could do as you felt a third finger enter you, widening you, readying you. It was enough. Cumming hard against him, stiffening and then softening like taffy, you gave yourself over to the pleasure Loki provided.

Smacking his lips lewdly, licking his fingers, "I knew it… I knew you'd be delectable."

Grinning broadly, happy and satisfied, "Am I gonna get a taste? You're not the only one with a sweet tooth, ya know!"

"Only when I've had my fill… and I'm not close to being finished, darling!"

Sticky, sweet and satiated, you and Loki lay in each other's arms smiling. He'd asked about a gift for Pepper and you were already planning a cupcake basket for your matchmaking mentor. You had just licked the last of your lemon curd from his abs, curling into his side, "I need a shower."

"Oh, yes! Let's do that!" Rising, dragging you with him, Loki could picture you under the steaming water, begging him to please you. He liked that idea!

"And after…"

Pausing to look at you, "After?"

"Can you find me something salty to snack on… ya know, for a change?"

Pressing a kiss to your hand, Loki flashed you that megawatt smile, "Absolutely, darling. Absolutely."

My Minxes: @alexakeyloveloki @vodka-and-some-sass @just-random-obsessions @brokenthelovely @lots-of-loki @thefallenbibliophilequote @iamverity @iluvsumbucky @unadulteratedwizardlove @wolfsmom1 @procrastinatinglikeabitch @mizfit2 @shxdowofdarkness @nonsensicalobsessions @ahintofkiwistrawberry @jessiejunebug @rorybutnotgilmore @crystalizedcaramel @lokislittlecorner @scrumptious-finicky-illusion @capcapcapsicle @jamielea81 @caffiend-queen @thenatilie @sammy-jo1977 @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore

#loki x reader #loki x you #hot loki #loki smut #loki love #mcu smut #MCU fanfiction #loki fanfiction #1000 followers

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 4 years ago

Text

Pretty Voice

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self-doubt, self-esteem issues, all canon-typical. these are just some angsty bois sometimes, huh. other than that, none. this thing’s pretty fluffy.

Pairings: Logince. Can be platonic or romantic you choose, I don’t know anymore.

Word Count: 6367

The Imagination has a theatre. Roman holds concerts regularly. The others are invited to perform but Roman is the star. Today, it’s just him and Logan. Logan’s never wanted to perform. He sits a few rows back from the stage so he can see better and so his eardrums don’t get blown out. Also so Roman can’t really see Logan.

In other words: this isn't the first time Logan's made himself hard to see. It isn't the first time he's struggled to be heard either. Maybe it's time Roman did something about that.

It’s been about half an hour. Logan’s been clapping after every song, offering honest feedback which just happens to be very complimentary. Roman adores his compliments, they’re so unique and genuine. Logan did confess a few songs ago that he is having trouble keeping up with how incredible the performances have been, always finding something new to compliment all the same. And yet when he finishes quite a spectacular rendition about ‘From Now On,’ Logan’s silent. No clapping either. In fairness, the end of the song does kind of fade out, so…but Roman thinks it’s something else.

“Well, if you didn’t like the song,” he huffs melodramatically, perching his hands on his hips, “you could’ve just said so.”

His joking demeanor fades when Logan startles terribly.

“Huh? Oh, oh, my apologies,” Logan stammers, “I just…I fear I lost focus. It was…an incredible rendition.”

Roman squints a little. It’s really…how has he not noticed that it’s pretty hard to see Logan? Has he really been so involved in the performance?

Well, he has to admit, it’s pretty intoxicating. Especially with the acoustics they’ve got in the theatre.

“…are you sure you don’t want to try,” he asks, gesturing to the stage, “just a little song? Just one?”

Logan shakes his head. “I’m perfectly alright.”

“One verse,” he bargains, “a chorus?”

“I couldn’t hope to follow you.”

“Well yes, I am magnificent, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be too.”

Logan smiles and shakes his head again. Roman frowns, coming right to the edge of the stage and crouching down so he’s closer to Logan’s eye-line.

“Are you alright?”

“Hmm? Yes, I am perfectly alright, thank you.”

“And here I thought Deceit was the living lie detector.”

Logan shifts. “Well, it follows that you would have some sense as well. You’re an actor, aren’t you?”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“‘Focus on issues or focus on me,’ as I recall, is one of your favorite catchphrases.”

Yes, it is, but Roman would rather focus on the issues right now. “Come here.”

“What?”

He smiles, beckoning with a finger. “Come here.”

Logan does, standing up and walking down the aisle. Roman waits until he’s fairly close to stand up and jump down from the stage.

“And…up we go!”

Laughing as Logan squeaks in surprise, grabbing onto his shoulders, Roman picks him up and sets him on the stage. He rests his forearms on either side of Logan’s thighs, keeping a light grip on his hips. Even with the height of the stage and the slight downhill slope of the aisle, Roman’s still a little bit taller than Logan, so he takes a step back until they’re eye level.

“And…perfect,” he says, and leans forward until they’re almost nose to nose, grinning like the cat that got the cream. “Hello.”

“…um, hello.” Logan glances around, still trying to work out why he’s no longer on the floor. “Why am I up here?”

So I can cuddle you while I ask you what’s wrong, of course. “Well, I figured shouting across the theatre perhaps wasn’t the best idea.”

Logan raises an eyebrow. “I believe ��projecting’ is the correct term.”

“So you have been paying attention.”

“I do have some theatre experience. I am a part of Thomas, after all.”

Roman gasps, mock-offended. “And yet you still won’t sing for me?”

“Believe it or not, my prince, I have no desire to humiliate myself like that.”

Oh, we’re using pet-names, now, are we? Well, lucky for Logan, Roman’s an expert.

“Dearest,” he coos, “you really shouldn’t sell yourself short like that. After all—“ he runs a thumb over Logan’s pink cheek, smiling— “sweetheart, you’re lovely.”

Logan shuts their eyes, making Roman chuckle as they bury their face in their hands. “Did you have to do that?”

“Do what, my sweet?”

“You,” Logan says weakly, and oh, he must be flustered if he’s so far gone from his typical articulation, “with the pet-names.”

“Well, darling, you did start it.” Logan shakes his head, only to blush brighter when Roman winks at him. “And what kind of prince would I be if I didn’t flirt with every dashing fellow I came across?”

“You’d be you,” Logan says, “isn’t that enough?”

Roman’s smile falters and before he can stop himself it slips out.

“…is it?”

Logan frowns, blush receding as he tilts his head. “Of course it is, Roman. You…you are an incredible force. Your work ethic rivals that of anyone else, including my own. Your resilience is something to be admired as well, not to mention how hard you work to keep Thomas as the center of your efforts. And you…your abilities…and how selflessly you share them with us…”

Logan takes a deep breath and smiles. “Of course it’s enough, Roman, you’re enough.”

Roman may have the high ground when it comes to flirting, but he has nothing on Logan’s sincere eloquence. All he can do is bathe in the words, try and soak up every single bit of it Logan gives him.

“…you believe me,” Logan murmurs, “right?”

“You really are too sweet to me,” Roman says finally, “aren’t you, little bear?”

He’s rewarded with an adorably confused head tilt. “‘Little bear?’”

“I like to think of you like a little bear,” Roman says, regaining some of his confidence as Logan starts to blush again. “Because you’re an excellent cuddler, just like a teddy bear. You are unmatched in your ability to comfort the rest of us—though don’t tell Patton I said that—and you are fiercely protective of your cubs.”

“And with this jacket—“ Roman pats the thick, fluffy, light brown jacket just about swallowing Logan’s form he’d been given when Roman noticed him shivering in the chill of the theater— “you’re just like a fuzzy little teddy bear!”

To prove his point, he flips up the hood, miscalculating just how floppy it is and smacking Logan in the face with it, sending them both into a fit of giggles.

“And bears like honey. Honey is sweet. And you,” Roman says, leaning close enough to bump their noses together, “are very, very sweet.”

He chuckles when Logan makes a frustrated noise and pulls the hood further over his flushed little face. They’re so cute.

“Aww,” he teases, tugging at the hood, “don’t hide from me, little bear! Let me see you!”

A brief tug-of-war later—in which Roman totally doesn’t cheat by sneaking his hand down and scribbling his nails over his knee—and he pulls the hood away, revealing an adorably flushed Logan pouting at him.

“There you are,” he says, reaching forward to boop his nose. “If you don’t like it, Logan, I can come up with another one.”

“No,” Logan mumbles, “I…I like it.”

Roman takes pity on the blushing mess on the stage in front of him, helping Logan tug the collar of the jacket a little snugger around his neck. “Little bear it is, then.”

Logan, meanwhile, is having a crisis.

Because Roman couldn’t just invite him to spend some one on one time in the Imagination, no. He had to sing to him in the most incredible voice he’s ever heard and then ask if Logan wanted to sing. He had to ask Logan if he was alright in that soft voice that he knows he likes. And he had to pick Logan up like he weighed nothing and set him on the stage, curving his body around him like he was something to be protected.

And he had to give him a personalized nickname and tease him about how cute he is.

And he had to be really, really attractive.

He’s right here, he’s touching you, and you still want more? He made up a special little nickname for you and you aren’t satisfied? What else do you want?

Don’t burden him with your problems too. He’s got his own stuff to deal with. He’s got more of a right to be upset about these things than you do.

You’re not even supposed to be upset in the first place.

“Little bear?”

Logan shakes his head. “You’re going to use that every chance you get, aren’t you?”

“Well, that and depending on how you feel about pet names—“

Why did you nod, you useless gay?

Roman’s smile just widens. “Then yes. Yes, I am. So, my sweet little bear—“ internal screaming can commence now, thank you— “what’s got you looking like someone stole all your honey?”

“I don’t…I don’t want…if you are not in a good headspace—“

Rolling his eyes fondly, Roman resettles his grip on Logan’s hips. “Gorgeous, if you keep being as sweet as you are, I am going to get a toothache.”

And Logan thinks he can brush it off, toss some meaningless barb back that’ll either get Roman to talk about something else or at least flirt with him to pass the time instead, but then Roman says: “you can talk to me, little bear,” in a voice so gentle it makes his chest ache.

Where do I start? How do I start? What if I say the wrong thing? Do I even remember how to do this?

What if he changes his mind?

This is stupid, just talk. You know how. Just say something. Anything.

“Sorry, I am…not the most articulate right now.”

“If the bountiful praise you lavished upon me earlier is any indication, I’m afraid I’m going to have to disagree with you.”

Well, there goes that excuse.

Why is this so hard for you? He’s not a mind-reader, you will actually have to talk to him. Isn’t that what you’ve been preaching, you hypocrite?

Do you even have anything to say?

You’re not just going to make something up for attention, are you?

Or is that what you’re doing now? Stalling for attention?

What’s the point of you having a voice if you’re not going to use it?

Now you’re just wasting his time.

The lightest touch on the side of his head and Logan startles terribly. Roman shushes him, finishing tucking a strand of hair out of the way.

“…you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No!”

Roman blinks, taken aback by the shout. Shit. Logan curls his fists in the coat.

“No,” he mumbles again, “I…”

Great job. Say something.

Roman watches Logan war with himself, growing more and more worried as his eyes squeeze shut, his mouth opening and closing with no words coming out. When he hasn’t moved for a few minutes, he racks his brain for a way to help.

“Once upon a time,” he murmurs finally, smiling gently when Logan’s gaze flicks to his, “there was a forest. A small forest, not too big, where all sorts of creatures lived. Cats, snakes, spiders, frogs, owls, dragons, bears…all sorts.”

As he talks, he rubs soothing circles into their hips with his thumbs.

“And they all had secrets, because everybody does, and they all kept their secrets in different places. At the bottom of their ponds, tucked away in their burrows, hidden their nests…”

Roman steps closer, bracing most of his weight on one arm, wrapping it around Logan’s back to hold them close.

“Where does the little bear keep their secrets?”

He takes his free hand and carefully pushes the flaps of the jacket aside, laying it gently on Logan’s stomach.

“What about here, in their belly? Where all the sweet honey goes? Maybe if I poke it a bit—“ Roman gently prods at a few spots, smiling when Logan giggles and squirms— “the secrets will come out. No, no, that’s a giggle. Maybe over here? On their sides? No, those are more giggles. Hmm…well, this may just be a giggle button.”

A little squeeze here, a little scribble there. Roman smiles when Logan’s face starts to glow that lovely pink again, his giggles still flowing out. He’s more than happy to stand here and lightly tickle Logan until he feels better, but when Logan starts gently batting at his chest and shoulders, trying to push him away, he relents.

“Hmm,” he murmurs, “well, I think there are only giggles in here. Let’s just…pat them a bit to calm them back down.”

He rubs his tummy firmly to soothe away any lingering tingles, then raises his hand to lay over Logan’s upper chest.

“What about here, in their chest? Right here…next to their heart. Oh, I can feel it,” he says, pressing his hand a little firmer, feeling the reassuring thud, “it’s a strong heart. Which makes sense, after all, for our little bear. But…”

Roman searches Logan’s face. Not yet.

“…no. No secrets here.”

Moving slowly, slow enough that Logan can stop him if he wants, Roman tucks his hand against his neck, feeling his pulse against his hand.

“What about here,” he says, “in their throat? Right next to these lovely vocal chords they’re so shy about, maybe if they sing a little, their secrets will come tumbling out?”

It makes the tiniest smile come to Logan’s face but he shakes his head. Roman pouts, unable to keep up the façade when it makes the smile grow.

“Alright then. No. No secrets here.”

Roman takes his hand away, stroking down the fluffy sleeve of the jacket, feeling the soft material tickle his palm. He slides it down to the warm wood of the stage, straightening his posture—the only straight thing on him—so he can lean against the stage between Logan’s knees, hands going back to his hips.

“Well,” he says softly, “I don’t know where else to look, little bear.”

Please, Logan, let me help you.

A trembling hand takes his, guiding it up, up, up to press his fingertips carefully to the underside of Logan’s chin.

“…here? Under your tongue? Oh…oh, I can feel them…there’s so many, you’re so tense here…”

He carefully rubs and presses, feeling how tight Logan’s jaw is. Logan swallows heavily and Roman feels his tongue move.

“Does it hurt, little bear?”

Shake.

“No? Are you sure?”

He won’t meet his eyes. Oh, Logan…

“Well, it can’t be comfortable, holding them all like that. Is…is this why your head feels so heavy? Here,” he says, cupping his chin properly, coaxing him to rest his head in his hand, “let me hold it for a little.”

That’s it, he smiles as Logan’s head sinks into his hand. He gives it a soft squeeze.

“Now, why don’t we try and see if we can make this a little easier for you, little bear? In fact, I…I think I can feel one…right here.”

He takes his other hand and mimes plucking something from the air in front of him.

“I think it wants to come out.”

He moves his hand away, slowly pulling the secret away, drawing it up and out. Logan’s mouth opens, yes, come on, you can do it…

“…I’m scared.”

Roman rubs his fingers together and sprinkles the harmful secret away. “And…poof. It’s gone.”

He comes back, resting his hand on Logan’s knee. “Good job, little bear. And it’s okay to be scared, I promise. And I’m right here, I won’t let anything hurt you.”

Logan’s worried little brow relaxes and it makes the ache in his chest release, just a little. Then he feels Logan’s chin wobble.

“Oh…oh, here’s another one…feel it?” He plucks another one from the air. “I’ve got it, don’t worry, here we go…”

“…I…”

“…say it,” he coaxes, “go on.”

“…I haven’t…done this…in…so long, I…I’m not…I…don’t…”

Logan swallows. Roman brings his hand a little closer to their face but he doesn’t let go.

“I don’t know if I remember how to do this.”

“That was a stubborn one,” Roman says softly, “wasn’t it?”

Logan nods. Roman turns to address his hand, still clutching the pesky secret.

“You’ve been living there for a long time, haven’t you? Well, I’ll have you know that’s quite rude,” he scolds. “You’ve caused my little bear an awful lot of discomfort. Now begone.”

He swats it away with a disgusted expression, softening when he feels the low rumble of a laugh in his other hand. Looking back, he sees Logan looking…a little better, at least.

“You feel a little lighter, my dear,” he observes. Logan nods. “Good.”

Taking Logan’s chin in both hands, he rubs his fingers along his jaw. “Let me see…feel around a little… any more loose ones?”

Anything else you’d like to tell me? Or talk about?

“…one.”

Roman nods. “Alright. Let me see…”

He waves his hand a bit in the air in front of them, as if he’s searching for something to grab onto. Finally, he picks a spot and forms a pinch.

“Ah. Here. Oh…oh, this one…” He gently tugs on it. “This one feels heavy. Like there’s a lot of it. Oh, you poor thing, shall we try and see if we can get this to stop hurting you?”

This time, Logan doesn’t hesitate and nods.

“Let’s see…it feels quite long…hefty. So, how about this: I will start pulling out the bits that feel a little loose already, and whenever it starts to come, you just say it for me, alright?”

Logan nods.

“Wonderful.”

With that, he begins to pull, miming retrieving a long, magician’s scarf out of Logan’s mouth. When his chin starts to wobble again against his hand, Roman frowns.

“Putting up a fight, are we? Well, this looks like a job for two hands.”

Standing at his full height, he starts doing the motion with two hands. One of the biggest parts of improv, apart from ‘yes and,’ is object work, and he coils the scarf neatly on the floor next to him, making sure he’s still pulling it out of Logan’s mouth, walking his hands along the scarf.

Logan wants to. He really wants to. But the words just won’t come out. So much so that when he opens his mouth his breath literally catches in his throat.

“Oh…oh dear,” Roman says worriedly, tugging a little, “it’s…it’s stuck.”

He mimes trying to pull it away with both hands but gets nowhere.

“It’s…it’s really stuck. I don’t want to hurt you but it’s being very stubborn.”

He frowns, keeping one hand tightly around the secret and using the other to cup Logan’s chin again.

“Maybe I can make it loose back here…maybe if I feel around…find where it’s stuck.”

The searching motions of his fingers under Logan’s chin make him fidget a little. Roman sees, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

“Maybe I can tickle it loose, hmm? If I tickle very gently,” he murmurs, scribbling his fingers lightly all over the sensitive skin, smiling as it coaxes more giggles out of him, “can I tickle it loose? No, no, that’s just getting me giggles. You really do have a lot of giggle buttons, little bear. Oh, oh no, it’s going back in, well, that’s not going to work.”

He stops, cupping Logan’s chin firmly, letting him calm back down. Poor thing doesn’t even have the strength to look embarrassed or flustered, no, he just looks frustratingly hopeless. If he wasn’t holding his chin, Roman’s sure Logan’s head would drop right to his chest and he’d never want to raise it again.

“…oh, little bear, is it hurting you?”

“Yes.”

“There’s a bit…hmm…darling, will you listen to me for a moment?”

Logan nods.

“Close your eyes. I have this pesky thing, it won’t be going anywhere.”

The sheer amount of trust it must take for Logan to close his eyes, resting almost the entire weight of his head in Roman’s hand, makes Roman a little light-headed. But he has a job to do here, so he comes forward until his nose is just about brushing Logan’s forehead.

“You are not making me do this,” he whispers, “I’m here because I want to be here. I will keep your secrets safe, I promise.”

He lowers his head, pressing their foreheads together.

“You don’t have to be afraid, Logan. Not with me.”

Logan opens his eyes. It pinches in the little pouch where his chin meets his neck.

“…for as long as I can remember…”

Roman pulls the scarf out once and grabs it again.

“…I…”

His hand moves an inch.

“…have…”

Another inch.

“Are you seriously going to do that word by word?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

Deep breath.

“…for as long as I can remember, I have never been a part of any kind of relationship where it does not hinge on how useful I am.”

Logan closes his eyes, feeling Roman’s hand leave his chin.

“I…I am a function that is indispensable but not one that is wanted.”

Swallows. Keeps going. The pinch doesn’t let up.

“My entire being is based on how much I know. What I can do. And…and if I cannot do the thing I am meant to do, I…I cannot exist. But there are so many things I cannot do in order to do the things I need to do.”

The pinch still doesn’t let up.

“And I…I let it happen.”

Has silence always been this deafening?

“Because I have no choice.”

The pinch spreads, turns to a clench.

“…I am useful. I can explain things to you when you need them explained. I can help you sort through things that you do not fully understand. I can provide solutions to problems when they arise.”

He tugs the jacket tighter around himself, trying to huddle in a cocoon of safety.

“I…I am Logic. I am Logic. That is my job.”

The words curl on his tongue and taste bitter. He briefly wonders if this is what Janus feels like.

“But it is not only my job when it is convenient,” he spits, “it is always my job. And I…I have to be able to do my job. B-because if I don’t, you’ll—“

He swallows heavily.

“…I understand that…there are many things that you and the others do that I do not understand. And I understand that I am…convenient. And when I am not, I—you—“

He huffs. “I understand that I do not understand.”

It’s hot. It’s too hot. The jacket is sweltering, trapping him now. But he can’t let go, can’t move. Can only speak.

“And I cannot understand. Because that would require me to have emotion. And I cannot have emotion. I am Logic. Logic cannot have emotion because logic falls apart when emotions come into play. But I can’t just be Logic!”

It comes out in a horrible burst of agony, ripping up his throat as it comes out.

It h-hurts.

It hurts.

“…you do not require me or Logic.”

He curls into the jacket, not caring about how much it hurts.

“I…I know that logic must always have a place. I know that sometimes you would rather not listen to Logic. But s-sometimes…”

The others don’t always want Logic. They don’t always want Logan either.

“I cannot be human,” he whispers, “I cannot be held to the same standard as a human.”

I am a being of Logic. I am the Logical Side.

“…I cannot have the same luxuries as a human.”

Emotion is a luxury I cannot always afford.

“…I have tried. For you and for Thomas, to…be Logic.”

They didn’t see. They never saw.

“And it has worked. It has worked so well that I—I—”

The line between Logan and Logic blurs so much that it is near impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins. But now…

Now when Logic has been silenced, not even Logan can speak.

“…I am Logic.”

Who is Logan?

“I…I know I have feelings, but I…I can’t. I’m not—Logic is not equipped to deal with them. I know I have to be Logic, but I…I can’t.”

Logan was being an inconvenience. Because he was taking more time than I should be. Because everyone else was ready to move on…and Logan wasn’t. Logic was.

“…and I will stay. Because you need Logic.”

Logic would stop talking during a conversation because no one wanted to hear Logic. Logic didn’t care about my emotions, only how I could help them deal with theirs.

“Because you have always needed L-Logic.”

Logic. Logic. Logic.

There is no room for Logan.

I am so scared, so scared of not being useful that I let other people introduce me. Because you would know how I could be the most useful.

I must be useful.

I must be Logic.

There is no room for Logan.

They do not want to listen to Logic. They silence Logic.

They do not even know Logan exists.

“If…if I was smart…you kept me. If I was hardworking, you kept me. If I was useful, you kept me.”

And when I wasn’t enough, they replaced me.

I can’t be Logan. Not here.

…can I be Logic?

Will that be enough?

“…if I’m Logic, will you keep me?”

Silence.

His hands are balled so tightly in his jacket they ache.

He can’t remember the last time he’s talked so much.

He can’t remember the last time Roman was so silent.

What…what has he done?

“I’m—I’m sorry—“

“Don’t you dare, Logan.”

Logan’s head snaps up in horror. Roman stares at him, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. A blazing fury burns in his gaze and Logan shrinks, trying to make himself smaller.

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” he repeats in a low voice.

Is…are those…tear stains?

Roman tried. He tried to just pull the secret out, lend a sympathetic ear, return the favor Logan had given him so many times. But he couldn’t. Tears had welled up by the time he’d mentioned the others only keep him around because he’s convenient. He can’t…he can’t imagine…having to stifle something so integral to himself like emotions, being kept around only because he was useful, being tokenized and objectified over and over and over and reminded that he wasn’t enough on his own…

And not being able to sing? To do all the things that Roman can do, is permitted to do as Creativity?

“Oh, oh, sweetheart,” he manages to gasp, “come here—“

He’s sobbing. He’s sobbing, the tears bubbling up as he reaches desperately for Logan, for his face that…that isn’t crying at all, how can he go through this much and not cry, do…can he not cry anymore?

That only makes him cry harder.

“You’re—you’re wanted, Logan, so—so much, I want you, I need you to—to stay, yes, we’ll—we’ll keep you, oh, darling—“

He understands. He understands so much and it hurts because there are so many secrets nested inside that big secret and it’s so much and he’s so proud of Logan, for surviving, for telling him—

He needs Logan closer. He tugs him off the stage, into his arms, holding him up, holding him close, scooping him into a tight hug.

And oh, it’s exactly the way a heroic knight should hug. Strong. Powerful. Protective. It’s safe as Logan clings to him. He feels safe. Cared for.

Loved?

It’s only when Roman goes to cup Logan’s head that he realizes he’s not really holding that much of Logan’s weight in his arms. Instead, he realizes Logan’s clinging to him just as tightly, their bodies curving into each other as Logan holds himself up by his legs wrapped over his hips.

“…well,” he murmurs, “aren’t you strong?”

“I can hold my own.”

“I know you can, Logan,” he says, pulling back a little so he can see Logan’s face, “but it’s okay if you don’t always want to.”

Logan looks at him, one of the few times where this means he has to look down, a soft smile on his face. “It’s fine for you too.”

Roman can’t help but shake his head in disbelief as he sets Logan—gently!—back on the stage. “How are you already back to taking care of me?”

Logan shrugs. “Instinct? Habit?”

Useful. Right.

They all need to work on that, to work on this, for Logan. Not for Logic, not for Thomas, for Logan.

“In all seriousness,” Logan mumbles, “thank you.”

“No,” Roman corrects, his arms still tightly around Logan, “thank you.”

And when Logan looks up he’s so hopeful that Roman has to lean forward and rub their noses together.

“Is…is this how it f-feels?”

Oh.

“Yes, Logan,” Roman breathes, trying to push the feelings across that little gap between them, “this is how it feels.”

“…I…I—“

“You don’t have to say anything, dear heart,” Roman soothes, “truly.”

Logan’s eyes drift closed and Roman frowns, worried when he takes another deep breath and squeezes his eyes tighter.

“…is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

“Make what up?”

“Pay you back then.”

“For what?”

“Roman…”

He relents. Of course he relents. Even if the question made him want to wrap Logan up in a warm blanket and tell him he’ll be safe forever, or leave them with the others and grab his brother and go teach whatever nasty beastly voices in Logan’s head caused this a lesson, he relents. He understands how hard this must’ve been for Logan.

“…yes, there is something you can do for me.”

Logan looks up and the plea in his expression is almost enough to break Roman’s heart all over again.

“When you say you don’t understand,” Roman says softly, still tracing idle patterns over Logan’s back, “some of the things we do, can you give me an example?”

“P-Patton bakes,” Logan manages, “I…I have seen Remus draw. Virgil listens to music or he…he runs. Janus dances.”

He gestures around the theater. “You sing.”

Roman smiles gently. “Will you sing something for me?”

Logan’s breath catches and he tenses, despite Roman’s efforts to soothe him. “…it’s not going to be any good.”

“Who said anything about being good?”

He reaches up to cup Logan’s face in his hands.

“I don’t care if you’re too loud. I don’t care if you’re too quiet. I don’t care if it’s too high. I don’t care what key you’re in,” he says firmly.

Oh, he wants to go and make sure whatever put that unsure look on his face never happened.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he murmurs instead, “it’s just you and me. I want to hear you, little bear. And to prove to yourself that you can.”

A few moments later and Logan breaks out into the smallest of smiles.

“…so what am I singing?”

“Oh, no, that’s not how this works,” Roman says with a smile, “you choose the song, dearest.”

“I…”

“I don’t care what it is. It doesn’t have to be some big, meaningful choice. I’m not here for Logic, I’m here for Logan.”

He knows how hard it can be to be alone on stage, so he steps back to boost himself up to sit next to them.

“…would it help if I sing with you?”

“No.”

Roman looks down at the floor. Even though his feet can just about touch, it…it looks miles away. And he should know how hard it is to pick a song to sing, especially when he hasn’t sung in a while. There’s just so many to choose from, and if you’re scared about what you’re going to be able to sing, then…

Perhaps this was too much to ask.

For a moment, he thinks his phone’s going off, or someone’s computer outside the Imagination, playing an a cappella version of ‘Bright Lights and Cityscapes.’

Then…then he looks.

Logan’s voice, not quite polished, a little worn, makes him cry all over again. It’s just this side of warm, full of longing and heartbreak and barely restrained sorrow and so, so good.

He finishes the song and Roman immediately wants to clamor for another one.

“…you have been holding out on me, darling.”

“You…you like my voice?”

“Oh, dearest, I could write ballads about it.”

“You do not have to.”

“But there are so many songs you could sing so well, and I will never understand how we could silence you, how we could make you believe we don’t want to hear you…”

Logan blushes a pretty pink, but he’s smiling. He’s smiling. And Roman just has to shuffle a little closer to tilt his chin up to see it properly. It’s lovely.

He cups Logan’s chin, feeling the spot under his tongue.

“…still a few more in there, hmm?”

Logan nods, his fingers twitching and growing restless. He looks down to see Logan stimming with the gold trim on his clothes, running his fingers over the coarse twine. Roman smiles, shifting a little to let him work his way along the lines, up the seams, to the ones on his chest. The blush stays on Logan’s cheeks, obviously a little nervous about touching him this way, but…stimming is stimming. Roman understands.

“Do you like it?”

Logan nods.

“I like the sash too,” he says quietly, gently smoothing it right next to Logan’s hand, encouraging him to do the same, “smooth, right?”

“I seem to recall a song lyric about being buried in satin?”

“I don’t know, you’ll have to sing it for me.”

“…I believe the song is called ‘If I Die Young.’”

“You’ll have to sing it.”

“Do you know it?”

“Yes.” When Logan looks up at him, he understands. “Do you?”

“Not all of it.”

“Most of it?”

“…most of it.”

“May I sing it with you?”

“If you like.”

He ruffles Logan’s hair gently. “You start then.”

His hand slows where it’s toying with his sash. Then…

“If I die young,

bury me in satin,

lay me down on a bed of roses,

sink me in the river

at dawn,

send me away with the words of a love song.

“Oh, oh…oh, oh…” Logan looks up at him. He smiles and sings the verse.

“Lord, make me a rainbow,

I’ll shine down on my mother.

She’ll know I’m safe with you

when she stands under my colors, oh.

Life ain’t always what you think it oughta be, no.

Ain’t even gray but she buries her baby.”

He raises his eyebrows, dipping to sing the harmony for: “The sharp knife,

of a short life, well.

I’ve had just enough time.”

The next chorus is smoother, Roman’s smile growing as Logan’s voice starts to ring. His harmony grows warmer.

“If I die young,

bury me in satin,

lay me down on a bed of roses,

sink me in the river

at dawn,

send me away with the words of a love song.

The sharp knife

of a short life, well.

I’ve had just enough time.”

Logan may have been lying about not knowing all of the song, because here Roman is, happily singing the harmony.

“And I’ll be wearing white—“ Roman raises his eyebrows, making them laugh—

“when I come into your kingdom,

I’m as green as the ring

on my little cold finger, I’ve

never known the loving of a man

but it sure felt nice when he was holding my hand—“

Roman covers Logan’s hand, holding it firmly to his chest, thrilling at the way it makes Logan’s voice stutter just a little on the next line.

“—there’s a boy here in town, says he’ll

love me forever.

Who would’ve thought forever would be severed by

the sharp knife

of a short life, well.

I’ve had just enough time.”

And damn can Logan hit that high note. He whistles in approval, grinning wider when Logan just…keeps it going.

“So put on your best boys,

and I’ll wear my pearls…

what I never did is done…”

The smile fades when Logan’s face drops, looking back at Roman’s chest. The hand under Roman’s begins to tremble as he keeps singing.

“A penny for my thoughts, oh no,

I’ll sell ‘em for a dollar.

They’re worth so much more

after I’m a goner,

and maybe then you’ll hear the words I’ve been singing.

Funny when you’re dead, how people start listening…”

No. Not Logan. Not on his watch. Not on any of their watches.

Roman shifts even closer, letting Logan lean his full weight on him, clutching his hand tenderly to his chest. For a moment, he thinks they’re going to just let the song end there, he wouldn’t blame him, Logan’s already made him so proud, then…

Then Logan takes a deep breath and raises his chin. A single tear stands out on his face. And it’s beautiful.

“If I die young,

bury me in satin,

lay me down on a bed of roses,

sink me in the river

at dawn,

send me away with the words of a love song.

“Oh, oh…the ballad of a dove,

filled with peace and love.

Gather up your tears,” Roman sings as he wipes it away,

“keep them in your pocket,

save ‘em for a time

when you’re really gonna need ‘em, oh.

The sharp knife

of a short life, well.

I’ve had just enough time.”

He’s so proud of them. He’s so proud.

“So put on your best, boys,” Logan sings, holding Roman’s gaze, “and I’ll wear my pearls…”

The last note fades out. They’re breathless, even despite the relatively easy nature of the song. Roman clutches Logan’s hand tightly to his chest, Logan leans against Roman.

Roman reaches out and gently trails a finger in an arc around Logan’s neck, creating a string of pearls that lay just over his collarbones.

#sanders sides #fic #dragonbabbles #roman sanders #logan sanders #logan sanders angst #logince #romantic logince #platonic logince #you choose I don't know #sympathetic roman #sympathetic logan

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softer-ua · 4 years ago

Note

in regards to what you pointed out a few posts ago, ngl one of my least favorite fandom things is when they make Kaminari the Har Har Stupid Joking ADHD Bi Playboy Who Is Never Serious Trope. like, he's very smart, 'worst in ___ area of a UA course' is very impressive and I don't remember if it even said that or just that he was studying with some other students, worried about his grades overall, calls himself stupid with implied insecurities about it, and didn't think he was very smart compared to the other people in the course. quirk overuse makes him loopy, incoherent, and think everything's funny. and yeah, he's a bit of a flirt and made a few perverted comments and actions that he clearly didn't think through that well. I'm pretty sure he's not ever stated to be bi in the manga because it was written by a coward, so I think people should think more about why they're associating and pairing together the idea of "hot flirty playboy who if legally able would sleep with everyone he meets" with emphasis or joke in the captions of whatever the content is on him being bi. I don't think this is inherently bad, even put together, but the execution feels kind of :/ and shallow. and I mainly just wish they'd pause to consider if there's any reason (subconscious or intentional) why one of those makes them think about the other, and at the very least lean back to see if they're blatantly making those traits centric around each other and tweak how they're showing them a little. Part of this is also because it's basically his fanon sexuality, but then they stick together "oh he's bi and everyone thinks that" and "he's made flirty or perverted comments and actions in canon at some point" and then mentally exaggerate and have this Canon Image of him as *waves hand at above* and I don't think that's happening consciously in most cases but. again. Cookiecutter Bi Party Playboy Who's Made a Date Offer to Everyone In The Building. not a flirty Person or a Playboy who is bi and flirts with more than one genders

I myself headcanon him as adhd and while the exact sexuality depends on my mood I think of/have him as bi in a lot of my content, but it's the same thing with why non adhd people see how he acts and label "adhd!" Especially about comprehension speed and derpy acting and intelligence and attention span jokes/tropes. Again, not bad in and of itself, but the specific parts of his behavior that make them think he's adhd, or that they start making jokes about or Ha Ha ADHD'ing, or that they think is why we project ADHD on him, (which they aren't necessarily wrong about, but like right in a really disrespectful look at how funny this is oh look squirrel way that's only funny when adhd people are doing it and it isn't all mocking like that) when they see other people calling him adhd, are the wrong ones, I think, and it shows in their characterization of him.

I'm not saying that any of those traits are bad in a character, but as a queer adhd girl with very high annual test scores and Gifted Kid Intelligence but extremely poor grades, focus, and brain damage (admittedly nothing like his, it was a longterm passive thing that mainly just made me have a Lot of Really Bad headaches, and closest thing it did to me was make me sluggish and emotional on bad days and also techincally have the potential kill my language bit if left untreated or the surgery messed up, which it didn't, and it won't be a problem again. but even after explaining that it wasn't cancer or any sort of tumor, and after seeing it do very little at all to affect my behavior outside of irritability and performance, because y'know, constant migraines, gone after the surgery but this was before that, Certain People I Was Vaguely Kind Of Acquaintances With started to treat my like I was a fragile glass thing going to to drop dead and revive myself speaking like a comic relief cartoon crazy person at any moment which was. patronizing.) I've since had surgery for, the way the fandom combines them into stereotypes and portrays them really just rubs me the wrong way- "Flirty Bi(tm) Playboy" "Har Har ADHD Can't Focus Or Get Things After They're Explained To Him, He's Still Confused And An Idiot" "Stupid Person With Brain Damage Who Can't Take Care Of Or Think For Themself And Acts Stupid And Funny For People To Laugh At" which tbh is super ableist even and especially when people irl do fit that description, and also reminds me of the Autistic Person Freaking Out And Being Dramatic sense of humor. And I know it's not helped by canon, because it done for comic relief and to limit his powers, but explored more I think it as a limitation could have been used way more interestingly than canon did and also call me biased but that quirk induced brain frying sounds at least as concerning as Izuku's quirk's backlash.

And it's a shame!! Because he's so much more interesting than that! Instead, the fandom gives me the Cookicutter Funny Bi ADHD Flirt Who's An Idiot and I am sad about it.

tbh it reminds me of what happened to percy jackson, esp with the ADHD Idiot Trope thing. which sucks because apparently it originated in the author making up stories around characters like his adhd and dyslexic kid inspired by Greek myths to tell him after running out of actual myths because it was his special interest and he wanted more. and then the series got kind of all over the place and the fandom processed that the adhd and dyslexic main character who does dumb things sometimes but is very combat smart and great at strategizing and leading gets bad grades and has trouble focusing and has, y'know, adhd, and made him the ADHD Idiot and erased his Gifted Kid girl friend's traits and ADHD and dyslexia into No Nonsense Calls Him an Idiot And Thinks He's Stupid And Has To Tell Him What To Do And Manage His Life For Him and honestly that just kind of sucks and it reminds me of what happened to fandom Kaminari. and now that I think of it people have jirou like that around him a lot too.

im fine with you answering this publicly if you want or have something to add but probably tag as ableism and maybe a biphobia mention content warning for people who don't have the energy to deal with thinking about those kinds of negative things rn because I kind of Went Off About It

I love this! Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts and experiences 💚(and double thank you for tag suggestions)💚

I couldn’t agree more that a lot of fandom has messed up Kami’s character, which is why I’ve kinda been posting more about him cause he’s just stuck in my head.

I think a lot of fandoms have trouble with characters like this, people have a hard time with duality in characters and fast/fun posts are easier to make if you flatten a character down.

The did it to Kami, they did it to Percy, they did it to Ron Weasley, they do it to Thor, the list goes on. If being the Smart One ™️ isn’t your thing and you can be goofy than you get pigeonholed into the idiot trope.

I feel for Kami a lot(probably because I have adhd/brain damage too)

It sucks when you’re smart but it’s not the traditional, measurable kind of smart(even if by national comparison Kami technically is).

I got terrible grades growing up, and I pretty much got the absolute lowest gpa you can get and still graduate. But absolutely no one would have known if I didn’t tell them, because I’m not dumb.

(It’s okay if you are “dumb”, I love me a head empty just vibes friend. You’re 100% valid, stil worthy of joining discussions, and should be listened to and taken seriously. This just isn’t about that tho)

I joke sometimes that I’m clever and witty but not smart, because that’s exactly what it feels like.

I have lots of thoughts and ideas that I think I articulate pretty well, I am excellent at finding the humor in things and expressing it in a way that’s funny to others too, and there is almost zero problems I can’t find a work around. And the people in my life love it, and they love to use it.

But eventually everyone in my life finds out that I’m not smart. They see the way I have to pause to Google how to calculate a tip, that I don’t know the name of all 50 states or even where to find them on a map, or I legitimately just can not spell (if you ever see a post where it looks like I used a weird word choice it’s probably because I tried 4 times and autocorrect+Google couldn’t help me and voice to text wasn’t an option)

No one ever questions my intelligence until they find out about my adhd and/or catch me struggling with it. After the mask comes off it’s like they can’t even hear me anymore, nothing I say could be true or matter because I’m now just the goofy accident prone spacy girl. My family literally calls me Spacy

And ya know what sometimes I just let people think that because it’s easier, it’s easier than explaining that I’m dyslexic and that I didn’t have a single geography/history clas until 10th grade and shocker the capital of Iowa doesn’t come up much by then. And it’s easier for me to laugh off losing my keys again than dwell on the fact that sometimes it feels like I’m losing my marbles.

And I wouldn’t be at all surprised if after this post I get a lot more “fact checkers” and push back on anything else I post.(not talking about people who want to genuinely engage,y’all are always welcome, I’m talking those people who don’t wanna look it up themselves but no longer trust me to know what I’m talking about)

Kami is a sweet brilliant boy. He’s in a nationally high ranking school, he loves the weather channel, he’s careful about his quirk that could easily hurt his friends in combat, he has a very high emotional intelligence level, he wears dorky shirts with electricity puns on them, and he pays attention to his friends and remembers a lot of little things about them.

He wants to be a hero and he takes that seriously, and the series has tried time and time again to tell y’all that smiling and laughter are an important part of that. Kami excels at this part! So what if his history grades don’t rival the top of the class, the top 5 students would struggle hard to do what Kami does.

Iida can’t relax, Momos rather shy, Todo struggles with social cues, Midoriya is canonically not funny, and jfc where to even begin with Katsuki. I’m certain they’ll all grow up to be excellent heros in their own right, but none of them are going to bring the level of joy and camaraderie that Denki can. You can’t test that into someone.

Kami also just notices people differently and has any easy way of joining in with them, he doesn’t struggle approaching Katsuki or Shinso. Sure he doesn’t hit the the nail on the head the same way Deku does but he’s the only one who has the guts and skills to try. Also he’s not that kinda friend, he’s not looking to a save these guys but pal around with them

I think Kami 100% realizes what a special case and tough nut to crack Bakugo is, I don’t think he’s just careless or too dumb realize his life’s at stake or whatever.

I think he’s purposely testing Bakugos boundaries all while trying to not be a threat to Katsukis actual ego and calling Bakugo out when he needs it in a way that not to serious. Kami knows how to be just goofy enough that he’s approachable. He’s also keyed in that the way to Bakugo is through Deku, meanwhile everyone else is stuck believing the opposite.

Kami also realized how important music is to Jiro and saw an opportunity to let her display her skills and combin the two worlds she lives, and he wasn’t afraid to get some back lash from her for it.

Like Deku Kami isn’t afraid to be uncomfortable. You really can’t teach that level of social ease, you can teach the posture and feed people a couple of lines but it’ll never hit the same. Funny approachable people have spent a lifetime learning the craft, usually out of necessity.

It’s actually what gives me the biggest adhd vibes from him, because adhd is (speculated to be) a dopamine deficiency disorder. People with adhd are constantly trying to raise their dopamine levels, and that means looking for praise and reward and nothing makes the human brain light up faster than postative human connections.

Adhd children struggle a lot with connecting with peers and often find making people laugh a fast way into people’s circles and makes it more likely people will overlook being interrupted or spaced out on.

Also adhd people are pretty much forced by their own brain structures to be genuine in all they do, low dopamine levels make it very hard to do things you don’t enjoy because there no promise of dopamine from the activity and you don’t have enough to spare, plus impulsiveness makes it really hard to not show when you do or don’t enjoy something.

I agree that Kami is also painted as overly perverted at times, he’s a little flirty but in a fun casual way but it’s not the foundation of his personality and it’s really mellowed out over the course of the series.

And while I subscribe to the bi hc from his interactions with Jiro and Shinso, we should all be very mindful that we don’t lump these characteristics together. The are separate facets of his personality that are not dependent on each other in anyway.

Kami deserves all the respect and love, I can’t wait to see our electric king again 🖤⚡️🖤

#tw ableism #ableism #tw biphobia #biphobia #softy answers #I have a sorta sad one shot about Kami and his quirks effects #should i post it?

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peakyswritings · 4 years ago

Text

Forgiveness

Finn Shelby x female!reader

Requested by: anonymous

Warnings: drug use, mentions of smoking and drinking, swearing, angst

The gif is not mine, credits to the owner

Growing up with Finn, you knew what the Shelbys did for a living and you also knew that he would eventually join the family business. What you didn’t know, was how much it was going to change your relationship with him. You were best friends and you spent basically all your time together, always causing troubles and driving both of your families crazy. Or at least that was until he became an official member of the Peaky Blinders. He was always busy, he didn’t have time for you anymore. You only saw him at the Garrison, where you went with Isaiah and Michael every night after work. Nevertheless, even then he ignored you, too busy drinking and flirting with some girl. You couldn’t deny that your heart broke a little every time you saw him going home with someone else. You didn’t know when you started seeing him as something more than a friend, but it was clear to you that he didn’t feel the same.

To be honest, you were also a bit worried about him. He was slowly destroying himself trying to be like his brothers, killing the part of him that was nice and kind and caring. As if it wasn’t enough, he was always drinking, smoking and snorting cocaine, too high and drunk to hold up a conversation. Every time you tried to talk some sense into him, he made fun of you, telling you that you were being annoying and that if all you could to was being boring and spoiling the fun, then you could go home.

At first you had tried to be understanding, after all had been going through a lot, so you decided to give him some time. However, his behaviour didn’t change and he started making fun of you even more, for every little thing that you did.

One day, you decided that waiting for him wasn’t taking you anywhere, so you went to the betting shop. You deserved an explanation, he couldn’t just act like that without telling you why. When you walked in his office, you found him snorting cocaine.

“Finn, this shit has to stop” you told him, crossing your arms over your chest. He raised his head with an annoyed look on his face.

“Hello to you too” he said, rolling his eyes.

“You’re destroying yourself” you stated, ignoring his sarcasm “I’m not going to watch while you waste your life like this.”

“Here we fucking go again” he grunted, shaking his head “you never stop, do you? What do you think, that you can burst here and tell me what to do?” he added, raising his voice a bit. You walked closer to his desk, looking him in the eyes.

“I’m not telling you what to do, I’m...” you started, trying to stay calm, but he didn’t let you finish the sentence.

“I don’t wanna hear any of this” he interrupted you, turning his head to the side.

“You’re acting like a child now. I’m trying to...”

“I said that I don’t wanna hear any of this” he interrupted you again.

“Will you fucking let me talk?” you snapped, raising your voice.

“What do you wanna talk about, Y/n, eh? You wanna talk about how I changed? You wanna ask me why I’m acting like this? Well, you’ve already done it a thousand times and the answer is always the same: it’s none of your fucking business.” he stated, articulating every word of his last sentence. The way he spat out those words hurt you in a way that you had never imagined before and you had to hold back your tears.

“You’re supposed to be my best friend, Finn. That’s my business”

He didn’t reply, but the look he gave you made you understand that everything you were doing was pointless. You glanced one last time at him, then you walked out of the room, slamming the door.

You had already fought a hundred times in the last few months, always for the same reason, but your arguments had never been so heated. You didn’t know what was happening to him, but you wanted your Finn back.

******

When Finn walked in the Garrison, the first thing he noticed was that Isaiah and Michael were alone, you weren’t at your usual table. None of them had seen you. Then he asked his family, who was gathered in the private room, but no one had heard of you since you stepped out of the betting shop a few hours prior. He was starting to worry, you had never missed a night at the pub without warning, not even when you fought. He stormed out of the Garrison with his heart beating in his chest like crazy, determined to find you. Guilt was eating him alive, he thought that if something had happened to you, it would have been his fault. His mind was racing, thinking about all the places you could be. He started walking down Watery Lane, heading to Charlie’s yard, you always went there when you were sad. He sighed in relief when he found you there, sat on a crate and he started walking towards you. When he got closer, he noticed that you were crying.

“Y/n” he called you, but you didn’t raise your head. He hesitated for a while, then he sat next to you.

“Y/n, why are you crying? Did something happen?” he asked, his voice filled with concern. You scoffed, wiping the tears off your face.

“Oh, so you care about me now?” you harshly said, getting up and taking a few steps forward to put some space between the two of you. He did the same, reaching out to you.

“Don’t be silly, Y/n, of course I care about you. What happened, are you hurt? Did someone hurt you? Because if someone hurt you I...”

You interrupted him in the middle of the sentence, turning around to look at him.

“What, Finn? You say you care about me, but you’re doing nothing to actually show it. You either ignore me or make fun of me, every time I try to talk to you you dismiss me in the worst of ways. You’re the one who’s hurting me, so what are you gonna do about that?”

He didn’t reply at first, he just looked at you with wide eyes. He knew that he had been acting like an asshole, but he had no clue of how much he was hurting you. The truth was, he was scared. He didn’t want to involve you in his family’s business, he didn’t want you to get hurt. Furthermore, he loved you, but not as a friend. When he realised that, he started drifting away from you, trying to bury his feelings, partying all night and sleeping with other girls.

“Y/n, I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was hurting you like that”

You shook your head, looking away from him. He looked genuinely sorry, but you couldn’t bring yourself to forgive him yet.

“I was just trying to protect you from all the shit that me and my family do. I thought that pushing you away was the only way to keep you safe” he admitted, coming closer to you again.

You were starting to understand why he did what he did, but it still didn’t make completely sense to you.

“But why would you do that now? What changed?” you asked, softening your voice. You weren’t angry anymore, you just wanted an explanation. He waited for a moment before talking again, he seemed unsure, like he wanted to tell you something but he was reluctant.

“Because I love you, Y/n” he said, looking at his feet “I mean, not as a friend. I’m in love with you.”

You looked at him with wide eyes, trying to process what he said. All those efforts to hide your feelings from him, to try to stop loving him that way, it all vanished when he said those words. He gently grabbed you face with his hands, looking you in the eyes.

“It’s alright if you don’t feel the same. But I needed you to know” he whispered, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. You leaned towards him, your lips brushed for a few times in hesitation, then you kissed him. You both closed your eyes, enjoying the moment. He took control of the kiss, but his lips were soft against yours, he was sweet and gentle. When you pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours.

“Do you forgive me?” he asked, with hope in his eyes.

“I love you, Finn. Of course I forgive you”

#peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fics #finn shelby x reader #finn shelby imagine

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shions-songbirds · 4 years ago

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Todokami Rambles

Okay!! I’ve been meaning to get on this for awhile now, so here we are. It’s been awhile since I’ve worked with todokami so if this is a bit choppy that’s why. {Post writing edit: this is so long, I’m so sorry}

@todorokitops this is for you

The way it would start is simple, honestly. Kaminari’s a friendly guy, and Todoroki is already friends with some of the Bakusquad, namely Sero and Bakugou, so really, there’s no reason for him not to try and make friends with him

So Kaminari approaches him in an attempt to make friends, and Todoroki has grown a lot since the sports festival arc, so he’s not going to deny one of his classmates

Especially not one he knows is capable, as is evident by him choosing him to be on his team for the cavalry battle

So he engages, why not, boy needs more friends

And Kaminari is genuine and sweet, and Todoroki can’t deny that having some additional company around is pretty nice, plus, well, Kaminari is very touchy, and he’s very touch starved, so it’s nice

Especially because the thing about Kaminari is his emotional and interpersonal intelligence is insane

He could read anyone pretty well, and once he’s friends with someone, they’re an open book

Thus, he has a level of understanding about Todoroki that few can compare to, even his closest friends

And being able to get his feelings and thoughts across without having to be the most articulate about it? With someone who’s bad with words, bad at explaining his own feelings due to so long being distanced from them? There’s nothing like it (more below the cut)

Needless to say, they get on well

Kaminari brings Todoroki into things, which isn’t to say that his friends don’t, they do, but Kaminari likes to drag him into impromptu sleepovers and movie nights, random snack raids and oh my god wait you didn’t have a childhood we gotta do dumb shit hours

And if Todoroki has nothing else to do, well, he lets it happen

So they end up spending a lot of time together

And though Kaminari doesn’t know the specifics of his trauma, he clued in pretty quick that it was there, and that it was tied to his father

He has no intention of prying into Todoroki’s past, if/when he wants to tell him, he will, but it helps to know where he needs to tread carefully

Which is good for the both of them

Now, these boy, these absolute fools, would not realize they’re into each other

Frankly, I don’t think most of their class could without some outside intervention, they’re all oblivious as hell with things like this

I imagine they get a lot of shit and gentle prods from their friends like, hey, get a room, stop flirting with each other in front of my salad, tell us about your crush!!

Which always leads to quick and dismissive “oh haha, I’m not into him”s, “you’re misreading our friendship, we’re just buds”s, etc, etc

These two just do not realize they’re into each other

Kaminari platonically flirts with everyone, that’s how his friendship is, if he isn’t jokingly flirting with someone (who is comfortable with it), well, are they really even friends?

And Todoroki just... doesn’t know how to recognize what he’s feeling, how to put a name to the tumultuous emotions swirling around in his chest, because yes, this feels different from how he feels with Iida, or Midoriya, or Uraraka, but to be fair, Midoriya had felt different from everyone too. He thinks it’s just a new kind of feeling friendship can produce. He doesn’t think much more into it.

It’s only when the teasing and the questions get more common that either of them realize that wait, this might be something more than I’m making it out to be

Kaminari is the first to realize this, the first to think oh, wait, what I’m feeling for him might be hitting a bit different than what I feel for my friends

Which immediately leads to some resigned Pining, bc there’s no way class pretty boy Todoroki Shouto would ever be interested in him, and frankly, no amount of love for the other boy is worth jeopardizing their friendship

Todoroki doesn’t have many friends, and he would rather die before he made it awkward and made Todoroki lose one of them

Meanwhile, when Todoroki eventually realizes it, after multiple talks with the other members of the dekusquad, he decides there’s no way in hell he;s confessing, especially not when Kaminari has no idea just how messed up he and his home life are

He decides he has to tell him

Even though, unlike back when he was telling Midoriya, he has everything to lose, there’s danger, there’s risk, he can’t stomach the thought of hiding it, even though it’s a struggle to stomach letting another person in on his troubled childhood

Still, he drags Kaminari into his room, and he confesses everything, every sordid detail of his childhood, and he’s scared, he’s so scared, he could damage one of his dearest friendships

When he’s done, Kaminari doesn’t say anything for a moment, just stares at him, takes in the subtle shake in his shoulders, the way his eyes are averted, hooked on his hands, and asks, gently, if he can hug him

Pulls him in close and tight, and asks, another question, one that he asserts it’s perfectly fine if Todoroki doesn’t answer

He asks him why why did he tell him

And Todoroki grips Kaminari tighter, his fingers digging into his clothes, nails almost biting through the thick fabric

“Because I didn’t think I was allowed to feel anything for you if you didn’t know”

The room is silent once more, Todoroki’s grip slackens, and he tries to pull away, but Kaminari holds firm. He knows what Todoroki just confessed, the vague terms don’t confuse or give him pause, he knows this boy. He knows how to read him. He knows what that means

He moves back so he can make eye contact with Todoroki, a massive grin on his face, looking a little disbelieving but ultimately incredibly pleased

“I have feelings for you too”

These two take awhile to work through their emotions

And for Todoroki that’s a lot of “I don’t know how to say this in a way that makes sense” and Kaminari’s gentle and understanding “you just say it and I’ll make sense of it, say the words, I’ll paint the picture”

and they do

They work out everything that needs working out, and decide, well, how about a date? To cement everything

And if you think their first date isn’t ice skating, you’re wrong

I have an age old joke with my friend from back when I first got into bnha that Todoroki is only going into the hero business to fund being a professional ice skater because his father would never financially back that and look, costumes and training are expensive, but anyway that’s not here nor there

Ice skating holds a fond place in Todoroki’s heart, a piece of his childhood uncorrupted, and he decides that he simply must share this with Kaminari

Kaminari who does not know how to ice skate

It’s a bit of a mess, but even with the falls, and the bruises, and the accidentally dragging each other down to the floor, it’s fun, and it’s the best first date either of them could’ve asked for

After that, it’s a lot of cuddles and teaching Todoroki how to play video games, finding out where and how they fit in with each other

They share pieces of their lives, they teach each other new things, and it’s good, it’s so good

Kaminari likes buying Todoroki plushies and things he’d never admit he was into

Todoroki likes buying Kaminari expensive things, and probably definitely overdoing it on certain things, because oh, a small company isn’t too big a price, is it? Noo, that’s Just Normal Courtship Things

They definitely adopt a cat and some rats together when they’re older

Because cats are wonderful and rats are actual angels

And they have walls haphazardly covered in photos of themselves and of friends, all in a patchwork array, reminding Todoroki every day of everything he never thought he’d have

Tucked in a corner of the bedroom is a shelf of things that were a total waste of money, and a bookshelf filled with goofy manga and classic American and English literature, a few sappy romance novels littering the shelves

And they’re happy, because what could be better than this

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chroniclesinlacuna · 4 years ago

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Warmth (read on ao3)

Pairing: m!detective (Dom Traore) x Mason Warnings: mentioned past violence/blood Words: ~1.5k Rating: G Summary: Some days, you just need to not be noticed while you deal with your hurts. And some days, it's not so bad to be seen.

It was way too warm. The thought scratched at the back of his mind even as he continued watching the fire. He’d started it when he’d come into the common room - and, in his defense, he’d been freezing when he’d gotten in. A late spring cold snap had hit the town and his car’s heater was older than he was, or damn near.

Idly fidgeting with the sleeves of his hoodie, he debated tugging it off, if only to enjoy the glow of the fire for a little longer yet. The warehouse was quiet around him - too late in the evening and too early in the night for anything to rouse the team to more than routine, if that - and he was enjoying the almost isolated feeling the amber light from the fire caused - casting soft leathers and plush carpets into sharp relief and blurring out the edges.

He hadn’t had much time to come up here lately, and even when he had, more of then than not he’d catch the team on their way out, if he caught them at all. And that was fine - everything was still settling and the growing pains of setting up a new base of operations were obvious. Still, sometimes it was nice to just...show up. And not have to worry about a welcome. It was a place he could disappear into without much thought, and one he was growing to cherish.

That said.

They didn’t screw around with the amenities. The room was large and open, and still, the fireplace managed to heat it all up without much trouble, and Dom wasn’t sure to be glad of it or not. Part of the temptation of a fireplace, sometimes, was the bite of cold just at your back. Or your partner’s back, if you managed to find some company.

He heard the click of the door behind him, and he dropped against the back of the couch, tilting his head back to get a look. Mason eyed him, raising an eyebrow from the doorway.

“When’d you get in, handsome?”

Dom hummed, then shrugged and straightened again. “Bout an hour ago.”

“Something wrong?” And the tone shift is slight - so thin and thready Dom’s sure it’ll melt away with the barest assurance. Dom can practically feel Mason’s gaze on him - isn’t disappointed when Mason rounds the couch, eyeing him almost carefully.

“Nah. Just didn’t feel like going home for a bit.” The strong bend of Mason’s shoulders bends as he accepts that answer, easy as anything, before dropping down on the couch beside him - legs splayed out in front of him like he owns the place.

There’s quiet then, Dom picking up one of his legs onto the couch to rest his chin on his knee, back to watching the fire, even as he knows Mason watches him. It’s curious now, though - the sharp edge to his gaze melted into easy observation. It’s a look Dom’s gotten used to over the past couple months; one he enjoys, if he lets himself think about it.

“Aren’t you hot?” He asks, after a long couple of moments. Dom raises an eyebrow, shifting his cheek to his knee to turn to look at him. Mason pauses, then scowls slightly. “Not like that. I’ve got eyes.”

Dom grins, even as Mason’s scowl deepens. “Yeah.” He offers, shrugging.

That gets him a look in return. Dom returns it steadily.

There’s a long couple of seconds where Dom’s sure Mason will drop it. It’s skirting around that thin-as-ice barrier they’ve cut out between themselves - one they crack and shake regularly, with sharp flirting and fleeting looks and soft touches they don’t admit to. But they haven’t crossed it yet. And Dom’s not sure Mason will here, either.

But he wouldn’t like Mason nearly as much if he didn’t surprise him sometimes.

“You’re sweating. Why’d you start the fire?”

“Well, it was cold when I got in.”

“...And you kept it going because…?”

“It’s pretty.”

That gets him a soft, half-frustrated growl, and Dom at least tries to hide his smile by turning back to the fire. Well. Maybe ‘tries’ is a strong word.

“You could take off your hoodie.” Is what Mason settles on.

“Mm. Little blunt for you, isn’t it?” Even as he says it, he finds himself reaching up to pull the neck closer around his skin. The silence that follows that movement is telling, in and of itself.

There’s quiet again - one even the crackle of the fire can’t quite fill, one that swallows the edge of the amber light, blurs the line between shadow and empty at the edges. There’s dots being connected, but Dom’s not entirely sure which ones - not entirely sure he wants to know either.

He hasn’t...talked about it with anyone. Not really. Tina noticed when his pressed shirts and slacks got switched for hoodies and jeans some days. But he’s pretty sure she chalked it up to late nights and rushed mornings. And it’s not like he’d completely switched his wardrobe out.

Just...some days he dug out the old college hoodies and broken in jeans. And if those days happened to be the ones his skin felt too tight around him, the ones he couldn’t quite catch his breath right, well. No one had noticed. And he hadn’t mentioned it.

But Mason’s noticing now. And that should feel just as suffocating.

And he knows why it doesn’t.

He’s almost startled when Mason speaks again, low, careful in that way he has that makes Dom remember what it’s like to be seen, “Do you want me to go?”

He shakes his head immediately, almost before Mason’s even done asking. “It’s not…” he sighs softly, wrapping his arms around his leg to bring it to his chest again, “It’s not you.” Dom just catches, out of the corner of his eyes, the slope to Mason’s shoulders as he settles back into the couch again.

“Then what is it?”

“Again, little blunt for you.” But Dom’s smiling now, even as Mason pulls a face at him. But...well. He did ask. And it was a...a thing. Between them.

They didn’t ask. Until they did. And that space...the intent it took to cross it...he wouldn’t refuse Mason that.

“It’s...nice. Sometimes.” He pauses, turning the words over in his mouth. He hadn’t articulated this to himself in a long while, and definitely not in relation to everything that had happened, let alone out loud. “Not to be noticed. While you deal with your hurts.” And that’s exactly what it was.

Some small, fragile pain still curled up in the back of his mind, screaming and screaming and screaming around a bloodied throat that could only gasp even as he choked. Wanting to run and hide in the dark of that warehouse and not draw anymore attention than it already had in its frailty.

Learning to live with that frailty again.

He had overcome Murphy. It hadn’t been easy, and he still remembers grey eyes, piercing against a backdrop he can’t see anymore, even in his nightmares. But he had done it. And he’d come out the other side. Some days, that was enough.

And some days...it just wasn’t. It wasn’t anything to cry over - at least, not anymore - and the bad days were fewer and farther between. But Dom was having to relearn how to be comfortable and confident in his own head. And he was getting there, slowly but surely, he was getting there.

“...Think you’d try harder not to be noticed there, handsome. A hoodie hardly does it,” And it’s weak, compared to his normal fare, but it’s also warm in a way that curls around the chill in his chest that the fire hadn’t been able to, and Dom can’t help but smile. “Come on. Roasting in here is just going to make us both miserable.” And then he’s standing in front of Dom, holding out a hand.

And they didn’t do this. That chasm between them echoing blindly into the space Mason’s offering. They didn’t do this.

But they cracked and twisted and pretended they didn’t when they pretended they weren’t looking. So Dom takes his hand, lets himself be pulled up. Lets himself lean into Mason’s space without hesitation.

And Mason holds them there, his free hand coming up to brush lightly down Dom’s neck in a way that should be...should be sharp. Should be wanting.

He finds comfort there instead. An acknowledgement. And a secret held.

“Nate bought that tea you like.” Weird, considering he hadn’t told Nate any such thing. Not that he’d put it past Nate to figure it out - lord knows he’d been at Dom’s place - office and apartment - enough to have picked up a pattern or two. But for one secret kept, Dom’s willing to hold another.

So, he just hums, and let’s Mason tug him out of that too warm room.

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc #agent m #my writing #my detectives #dom traore #still figuring out mason but I like how this came out I think #long post #dominicxmason

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thebestofoneshots · 5 years ago

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PARTY FAVOURS

Paring: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Prompt: Bucky needs your help after a girl won’t stop unwantedly flirting with him.

Warnings: None, there’s a bit of Drunk!reader but nothing too crazy.

“Please, please, Please PLEASE!!” begged Peter as you tried to ignore him. “Just this once!” He repeated pleading with his big brown eyes. He wanted you to introduce him to Mary, the read headed technician Girl, which you wouldn’t have a problem with, but, she was Bruce’s niece, and if anything didn’t go as planned, you and that little spider kid would have a big green problem.

“I don’t know Pete, it might be a terrible idea.”

“Believe me, I will be the biggest gentleman to ever exist, I’d behave better than Cap, I promise,”

I rolled my eyes. “You better, or else, I will be the one to use you as bait with the Hulk, and he can beat up Gods,”

He nodded rapidly a bunch of times, swallowing hard but attempting to hide it.

“Fine, now get out, I’m gonna change so we can go,”

“Affirmative captain,” he said before doing a military salute and leaving the room.

“This kid,” you denied with your head and walked to your closet picking a dress and putting it on. Your makeup was done, in fact, Peter was there because he helped you with the eyeliner that you were shitty at no matter what, and he surprisingly had a great pulse for wings. It was another of Tony’s galas and everyone with money or contacts got invited.

You walked outside and Peter offered you his arm, to escort you, you laughed and rolled your eyes before grabbing it and walking side by side with him towards the elevator.

You were thinking of how funny a 17-year-old boy would look next to a 26-year-old woman when the door opened and you entered the party lobby, some people were leaving their coats but as you had arrived from just a few floors bellow neither of you had taken yours. Which you regretted as the ambient was rather chilly.

“There she is!” You heard the boy whisper at you.

“Relax, you’re gonna look desperate,”

He rolled his eyes as you practically dragged him to the bar and ordered two cocktails before remembering he was underage and cancelling the second one.

“Hey!” He exclaimed.

You raised your brows towards him and he nodded like a little kid, which he was to everyone on the team.

After a while, you saw Wanda talking to Mary and you smiled to yourself pulling Peter towards both girls, you went and greeted Wanda and after a few seconds Mary.

“Mary Jane Watson, this is Peter Parker, Peter this is Mary,” you said with a smile and gave Wanda a look which she immediately understood.

“(Y/N)! Remember about that girl I said I would introduce you too, I think she’s here. Come with me,” she said pulling you with her and leaving the two kids together.

“Did you just play cupid with those two?” She asked when you were far enough.

“He asked me, I just never told him they were secretly my ship,”

You both laughed and then Vision arrived and left taking Wanda with him, you were left sitting on the bar alone, you ordered another cocktail and then found the person that had been trying to make you notice him for at least 10 minutes now.

You turned to the soldier confused as he kept giving you looks and signs that you barely understood.

He motioned you to look at your phone.

You rolled your eyes but did as asked “Please help me, she won’t get off of me, even if I’ve told her it makes me uncomfortable,” as you read it you laughed and looked at him, who was pleading with his eyes as a girl with a really short dress rubbed her boobs to his arm, on purpose, you laughed at the sight, if only she knew the winter soldier wasn’t really into that kind of stuff, still stuck in the ’40s.

You asked for two drinks and walked towards him. This was gonna be fun.

“Honey, I’m sorry I took so long, Tony stopped me and he wanted a bunch of pictures with the girls. You know how he is,” You said handing him one of the glasses in your hand.

“He’s been alone all the time at the party,” the girl spilled with sass.

“Oh, I know, he came first to get seats, seems though like you’ve taken mine,” you said as they were on a two-person couch “but don’t worry, we’ll figure this out,” you observed right before sitting on one of Bucky’s tights and crossing your arm in his neck, still looking at the girl. Bucky used his left hand to hold you in place. You felt your heart rush a little from the closeness with him but you blamed it on the martini and the excitement of putting the girl in her place, even if you weren’t sure why it was so exciting. She rolled her eyes and crossed her leg facing Bucky, showing even more skin. Was she really going to continue this up?

“Babe, remember that time my hair got stuck in your arm after a mission,” you asked, to which he nodded.

“Of curse doll, how would I forget?”

You smiled brightly to avoid the mild blush being evident. “I was just thinking that I’m gonna have to tie my hair tonight if the plan is still on, to avoid any other incidents,” you articulated with a wicked smile. He gulped when he understood what you were implying, then you got close to his ear and whispered “now act as I told you something really dirty” although you didn’t mean for it to come out in a dirty voice. He squeezed you tight in response to it, you weren’t sure if it was acting or your voice had an actual effect on him. The girl rolled her eyes and left.

You started laughing and ended up giggling in the crock of his neck as you tried to calm down.

“Thanks for that,” he said after a little while.

“That’s what friends are for,” you cleared and then stood up to sit on the couch next to him. But right at that moment, Peter pulled your arm for you to turn towards him.

“She wants to go somewhere more private,” he said with a worried face.

“Why aren’t you there with her?” You asked confused.

“I have no idea what to do,” he shrugged.

You rolled your eyes in a friendly way “What did you even tell her?”

“That I’m in the bathroom.”

You laughed “Ok, 2456, that’s the code, tell FRIDAY that I let you, it’s for Tony’s private terrace, it has the best view in town.”

“But What do I DO?” He asked again, desperate.

“Well, you talk, and if things go well enough, you give her a kiss and ask for her phone.”

“How do I know if things are going well?”

You rolled your eyes while you thought of a way of explaining to him. Then you got an idea. You pulled Bucky up and next to you.

“You’re Parker, I’m Watson,” you explained to him and then looked at his eyes with the sweetest face you could pull up. You batted your eyelashes and smiled. You laid your head on his shoulder looking at nowhere in particular and then at him again, this time with the biggest heart eyes you had ever made to anyone.

That’s when Bucky did something you were not expecting, he located his hand on the back of your neck, the heat from his palm almost made you shiver, but it all was so quick, he pulled your head towards his and planted a kiss on your lips. It didn’t last much and when it was finished you were left blinking in confusion for a few seconds before turning to Peter with a smile “See, that’s what you have to do,” you told him and he smiled.

“Thanks for that, both of you,” he said right before running off.

Bucky sat back on the couch and pulled you next to him.

That’s when you spotted the same girl now torturing another poor man. “Looks like she moved to different prey,” you nodded towards her and he laughed when he saw what you meant.

“Poor guy,” he said before turning to you and noticing your fast rubbing hands over your legs, you were evidently cold.

“Why didn’t you say you were cold?” He asked.

“I wasn’t, not while I was on your lap at least,” you explained. He smiled and swiftly pulled you over him again, using part of the suit he was wearing to warm you. “How are you so hot?” You asked.

“I was born with the blessing of good looks,” he answered to which you softly hit his arm.

“You know I don’t mean it that way,” you laughed, Bucky was quiet most of the time although sometimes he acted so open and confident and funny it amused you, you had been told how he was a ladies man back in the ’40s. Maybe that’s how he was before they turned him into the Winter Soldier.

“You think the insect boy is going to make it?” He asked then.

“He has a name.”

“You do too but I call you doll anyway,” he shrugged.

“Well, MJ has definitely a slight crush on the kid, at least that’s what Wanda told me, and he’s trying hard.”

“I’m kinda happy we helped. The kid kinda reminds me of Steve before becoming Captain America, he wants to help and everyone thinks he’s too small for the job.”

“I wouldn’t be as happy, she’s Banner’s niece.”

“Wait, for real?” he said worryingly, Bucky hadn’t seen the hulk in action but he knew enough. Getting trouble with the big guy was terrible weekend plans.

“I hope Nat helps us in case shit happens,” was your only answer.

“Like what?” Asked Bruce who sat on the couch next to you yours, he was holding a small whiskey glass.

That took you completely by surprise “Ah... you know... world-destroying stuff,” you replied, you weren’t sure if’d sound like a question more than an answer, you hopped it hadn’t but you felt like it had.

“Hm,” was his unconvinced reply “Either way... have you seen Mary Jane? I’ve been looking for her for a while, can’t seem to spot her.”

“I... uh...”

“No, we’ve been together pretty much all night, we haven’t seen anyone,” Bucky Answered for you.

“Shame...” he said before taking a small sip from his drink “I was hoping to introduce her to Peter, she always complains about the lack of people her age in these parties.”

After that you relaxed a bit, at least you weren’t going to he smashed soon “Maybe they’ve already met? This isn’t such a big venue.”

“Maybe...” he shrugged still searching around the area, to see if he spotted either of the kids “why are you sitting in Buchanan’s Lap?” Was his next question, which was pretty fair since there was a perfectly empty space next to the two of you.

“Eh...” You started but stopped yourself mid-sentence to think about it for a second “Well, it’s a long story, but basically... cold.”

He seemed to be about to say something but by then Nat stood in front of you with her hands full “it’s time for the fun!” She interrupted handing each of you a shot.

“Thanks, Nat? What is it?”

“Vodka, for must of us, the one for James has some of Thor’s more potent stuff.”

“Sweet!” You heard him from behind. Sadly, there had been a mishap somewhere in the path from Nat having them served and them getting to you. You took the liquid in one gulp. “Woah, that ehm... You sure it was vodka?”

“Definitely,” she shrugged.

“Ok,” was your only answer. By then, Wanda had come and sat beside you an James with a bottle of wine. A server brought some glasses and she started serving one for everyone.

“I uh... I don’t think I should drink much more...” you said as she handed you a glass.

“Don’t be silly (Y/N), you’ve only had one shot,” she said taking a sip of her own glass.

You grabbed the glass and took a very small sip before leaving it in the table again. You knew you’d only taken one shot but you were starting to feel as if it had been 4, or more.

Thor arrived you your little gathering sometime after and sat alongside all of you, by then people had already started to leave the party.

“Hey, Thor, your stuff wasn’t as hard this time,” said Buck as he took a sip of wine.

“What are you talking about? The Captain had to stop drinking after his first glass, he said it was harder than normal.”

“I’m not quite feeling it, felt like regular alcohol.”

That’s when Nat noticed how off you were acting, too quiet, almost as if trying not to move, like a drunk person trying to play sober. “O der’mo,” she muttered under her breath.

“What’s wrong?” Asked Bruce who sat next to her.

“It’s just that, I might have given (Y/N) the mead and Bucky the vodka.”

By then you had already grabbed the empty bottle of wine, “Hey, look Bucky,” you said calling for his attention and pointing at the tag “It says you can’t drink if you’re pregnant, and also if you’re a car,” you giggled at your own joke, wondering if it would have been as funny if you had been sober.

“You definitely did,” whispered Bruce after seeing that exchange.

Meanwhile, you were determined in not showing that you were drunk, not after just one shot, and attempted to stand up, in an attempt to go for some water and perhaps eat something that would help sober you up enough to act decently, but as you tried to get up you feel right back on Bucky’s lap. “Sorry,” you mumbled, “must have tripped with the rug.”

Nat decided to speak up then “I think I know what happened,” by then the talk had already drifted to a different subject, so she realized she’d have to explain again “yeah, regarding the mead, I think (Y/N) might have accidentally drank it, instead of Barnes.”

“So That’s! Why I’m so happy,” you exclaimed in a very childish manner. Which just served as a way to confirm Nat’s hypothesis. “I should really go to bed.” You mumbled after, trying to get up again, Bucky was fast this time around and he helped you steady with his hands.

“I’d better take her.”

Everyone waved goodbye at the two of you and he walked to the elevator with you, once the door closed you were the first one to speak, “Hey Buck, did you really kiss me earlier or was I hallucinating?”

He was taken by surprise, he’d never seen you drunk before but he wasn’t expecting that “It wasn’t a hallucination.”

“Ufff... that’s great, I thought my crush on you was already making me crazy,” you replied causally.

“Your what?” He asked then, a pinch of hope in his heart.

“Well you know, that my brain had already gone cou-cou from liking you for so long.”

He smiled, he would have never thought he’d be thankful that you’d accidentally got drunk, he only wondered if you’d remember your love declaration the next day.

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himbowelsh · 4 years ago

Note

PLEASE IF YOU CAN Valentine's Day headcanons for Daniel Jackson from saving private ryan ❤❤❤

valentines day alphabet ( accepting! )

seeing as we don’t get much backstory on jackson in the movie, i took inspiration from the first draft of rodat’s script --- it’s very different from the finished product, but jackson actually talks about his home and family, so hey, i’ll take it.

A : AFFECTION. how does your muse show affection?

He’s very much not the PDA type. It’s not something he’s comfortable with --- caring for someone, in his experience, shouldn’t be a loud gesture. Jackson’s not the type to verbalize his affection, but he shows it off in actions. He’ll offer his coat to someone when they’re shivering, share his last cigarette, wordlessly lay his hand over someone else’s when it seems they need steadying... Jackson’s affection is obviously, and grounded in stone.

B : BOUQUET. does your muse like flowers? which ones are their favourite?

His mama raised him right --- if you’re visiting someone’s home for an occasion, you bring the lady of the house flowers. He doesn’t usually give them out as presents, but he will show up with some for any party or lunch date at someone else’s home. (All his friends’ moms adore him.) Usually they’re wildflowers which he’s picked himself and arranged into a neat little bouquet --- Jackson doesn’t believe in spending money on flowers when so many nice ones are growing outside all the time.

C : CHOCOLATE. does your muse like chocolate? which one is their favourite?

He’s got a particular fondness for it, especially not having had much of it growing up. Legitimately thinks dark chocolate is good, and will say as much to anyone who asks, with no idea why this makes certain Reiben people so angry.

D : DATE. what is your muse’s ideal date? where / who with / etc?

He’s a simple man; doesn’t need a lot. Maybe a nice nature walk, just the two of them, where they can fill the silence with soft conversation? That sounds nice... or maybe a night under the stars, laying side-by-side on a blanket in a field somewhere, a campfire smouldering next to them, while they stare up at an incredibly bright night. There’s no better place to feels close to the heavens, or his partner.

E : EMBRACE. does your muse like hugs? what are their hugs like?

Jackson’s hugs are serious, very firm, tight enough to press some of his own strength into the other person’s body. He usually only hugs to offer someone comfort --- one-armed, pulling them against his chest just so they know they aren’t alone. Softer things, like snuggling... well, he’s never really done that, outside of childhood puppy piles with the cousins, so he’d have to relearn the skill.

F : FLIRT. is your muse good at flirting? how do they flirt?

Jackson isn’t refined, but his charm is undeniable --- when out on the town, he’s impressive without trying. Maybe it’s the confidence, maybe it’s the smooth way he handles himself, maybe it’s that he can hold his liquor like a champ but is more willing to show off his beautiful grin with a few beers in him... Jackson rarely has a problem getting acquainted with women.

G : GIFT. is your muse good at gift - giving or do they struggle to get it right?

He doesn’t have a lot of money for gifts, is the thing. As a kid, they always exchanged homemade stuff, but somehow it’s not as cute from an adult man; so Jackson tends to save his money, not scattering gifts throughout the year, but treating his loved ones to big, expensive gifts once in a blue moon. He bought an ice cream maker, he bought a piano --- once, he and his brothers even pooled their money to buy their mother a spa vacation. Jackson’s gifts are very useful, and enjoyed by more than one person. (Intimate gifts, just for one --- like, for a partner --- make him nervous, and he’s never quite sure what to buy.)

H : HEART. is your muse quick or slow to give their heart away?

He’s got a few walls up, and they’re hard to take down; he doesn’t like getting close to people, and doesn’t like them knowing too much about him. People are nosy, and don’t always have the best intentions... so he’d need someone to grow on him slowly, while he can gradually let them in more and more.

I : I LOVE YOU. does your muse find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

This is something he genuinely never thought about before getting into a relationship. It’s... harder to say than he imagined it’d be. Jackson’s a man of few words in general, so when he does say it out loud, it means something.

J : JEALOUSY. does your muse get jealous in a relationship?

He does, in a very quiet way. It’s not something he’ll speak up about. Jackson’s a watcher, a waiter, and he’ll observe the situation from a distance to first decide if there’s anything he should be concerned about. He trusts his partner implicitly, he just doesn’t trust other fellas around them. If the other person doesn’t step off after awhile, he’s not above challenging them to something, like a shooting match or a game of darts, just to casually assert his superiority... and then, if they still don’t get the hint, he’ll pull them aside and warn in a low voice that they should keep distance from his partner.

K : KISS. is your muse a good kisser? why / why not?

Jackson is a very intense kisser. He loves steering his partner, pulling them close with his left hand while cupping their face with his right; one thumb will stroke over their cheekbone as the motion of their lips steadily builds heat. He might slowly guide them back against the nearest surface, so he can loom over them, slowly baring down; when his lips get involved, nipping and teasing his partner’s lips, that’s when he starts to get really serious.

L : LOVE. who does your muse love?

First and foremost, Jesus Christ, his lord and savior. Then his family, all thirty-two of them (give or take a few cousins); Jackson’s particularly close to his mother, who he thinks is the most patient woman God ever put on this earth. He’s got a deep love for some of the friends he made while at war, and is the sort of man who’d hold them in his heart even if he hadn’t seen them in years.

M : MOONLIGHT. is morning or night a more romantic setting?

At night, he prefers to be asleep, and has no trouble getting that way. (Jackson’s well-known for his talent of passing out anywhere.) Anytime before noon are the perfect hours to spend with his partner, doing anything they like; he’s always a fan of a good breakfast, so given the opportunity, he’d love to share it with his partner.

N : NAUGHTY. what is your muse like in bed?

He takes it slow; there’s no rush, after all, and half the fun is in building up the sensations until both he and his partner are ready to burst. Jackson is very serious about foreplay... and very skilled at it. He trails his hands slowly up and down his partner’s body, devoting special attention to any areas that snare his interest. While he doesn’t say anything, he’ll humm or sigh, sometimes even chuckling at his partner’s reactions; he prefers to be in control, but it’s exhilarating when his partner flips the dynamic. Jackson’s hips are his one weakness, kept carefully hidden; he’s very sensitive there, and any attention paid to the sharp curve of his hipbones will get him overwhelmed very quickly, head falling back as he bites back a moan.

O : ODE. does your muse have a way with words?

Jackson grew up listening to his papa and uncles preach. Though plainspoken men in practice, up on that pulpit, they transformed; they could take the words of the Gospels straight from the page, give them wings, and send them soaring. From them, Jackson learned the virtue of eloquence, the skill of talking yourself up and making your intentions know. He’s a man of few words, but when he does speak, those words are well-articulated and full of intention.

P : PARTNER. what does your muse look for in a partner? looks / personality?

Honestly, Jackson would do best with a partner who’s also religious --- someone who’s faith matters to them as much as it does to him. He was raised in a travelling ministry --- while he’s always kind of expected to follow that path, meeting his partner might change his mind, but faith will always be a bit part of his life. He’ll want to raise a religious family. Aside from that... a partner who’s empathetic, who cares about people, who doesn’t feel the need to constantly fill silences, nonjudgemental, not too high-maintenance. Maybe someone who enjoys being outdoors, who loves animals, especially dogs... someone who likes to dance, because Jackson loves to... someone with a warm smile.

Q : QUESTION. would your muse ask the big question or expect their partner to?

He’d absolutely ask, but it’d have to be in his own time. While Jackson wouldn’t be able to afford an expensive ring, he’d hope his partner would settle for his mother’s wedding band, passed through the family since his great-grandmother stole it from a travelling circus. Jackson would find a quiet patch of field --- somewhere with a nice view, maybe looking out over a wheat field or a meadow of flowers --- and lure his partner up there with the promise of a picnic. Only as they’re packing up the scraps, after a very pleasant afternoon, would he get down on one knee. “Nothing would make me a happier man than to spend the rest of my god-given life with you... if you’ll have me.”

R : ROMANCE. is your muse a romantic or a cynic?

He’s got a romantic side, and won’t deny it. Given the opportunity and the means, Jackson would love to treat his partner; he wants to see them smiling over a dinner he made himself, to see candlelight dance in their eyes and a ring he got them on their finger. Unfortunately, he’s aware of his own limited means --- he may never have the money to wine-and-dine his lover in the world’s most romantic places, so they’ll have to settle with making every day special, in little ways. None of his friends would expect it of him, but he’s got a real soul for romance.

S : SWEETHEART. did your muse have a childhood sweetheart?

He traveled a lot with the family ministry, so Jackson never stayed in place long enough. He didn’t go to school as a boy (which is why his reading’s not quite up to snuff) so his interaction with other kids, outside of the extended family, was limited. Never had a chance to find a sweetheart.

T : TRUE LOVE. does your muse believe in true love?

Sure --- call him traditional, or a romantic, or whatever you like. It’s no skin off his back. Jackson believes love is the purest form of human emotion, what God created mankind to do. If they were put on this earth with the ability to kill, they’ve got to love twice as hard to make up for it... and maybe the people who’ve never taken a life are able to love the most, but loving comes naturally to most everyone.

U : UNREQUITED. has your muse had their heart broken?

Thankfully, no. He doesn’t have many things haunting his dreams at night, and does his best not to dwell on the past. The worst he’s been hurt in life is losing his grandpa, seeing one of the family dogs catch rabies, and seeing his family go hungry some nights. Nothing romantical, just the aches 'n pains of life.

V : VALENTINE. how does your muse feel about valentine’s day?

It’s... not something his family ever celebrated? Lowkey, it just wasn’t a thing for them, so while he was aware of it, it was never a big deal. Should he get a partner who wants to participate in the holiday, Jackson will make every effort to learn --- and probably become dead-set on giving them the best damn Valentine’s Day they’ve ever had --- but he might be a little clueless.

W : WEDDING. would your muse get married? why / why not?

Yessir. Not a question he has to think about. Getting married is something he definitely wants --- the idea of spending the rest of his life with someone appeals to him, so long as it’s someone who loves him back. Jackson doesn’t need constant passion; he’ll settle for companionship, good company, and a bit of love. Marriage seems like the best way to make if official.

X : XOXO. does your muse use / like pet names?

Nothing embarrassing. (He’s very sensitive to embarrassing nicknames, having been called “Jackrabbit” by his family for the first twelve years of his life.) Jackson sticks to the traditional “darling”, and it’s a favorite. Uttered in that honey-sweet accent, he knows just how to make his partner blush.

Y : YOURS. does your muse get protective easily?

Very protective, and he doesn’t mess around. When Jackson sets his mind to it, he’s intimidating as hell. He’ll come up behind someone, looming taller than his actual height, with a glare on his face that could wilt flowers. Anyone who doesn’t take the hint and step off --- quickly --- is asking for a chance to become personally acquainted with the Lord.

Z : ZZZ. how many people has your muse slept with?

... he comes from a small, extremely religious community that would not take kindly to sleeping around. Daniel hasn’t had many partners. Maybe 3, maybe 4? Most of them were found overseas. Good Lord’s always watching, even in the bedroom. (He always gives the Lord a show.)

#saving private ryan #daniel jackson #spr #headcanons

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anotherisodope · 4 years ago

Text

Headcanons for My Fallout Muses

John Hancock

John actually still does have hair, at least in patches, but he shaves it. Wavy blond Roger Daltrey hair is very distinctive, and if he wants to leave his past self behind (and avoid any chance of his powerful, utterly sociopathic brother finding him), he’ll obviously get rid of it.

John is known as the biggest player in all ghouldom not just for his sexual appetites, but for a sad pattern in his life that he’s not actually responsible for. He will become interested in someone, romance them, show them a great time, and cap it off with spectacular sex...only to watch them walk away every time once they’ve scratched their itch, sober up and it sinks in that they just woke up next to a ghoul. He’s spent many an early morning pretending to sleep while someone sneaks out. It breaks his fucking heart, but he just moves on. However, when he encounters those people again and they awkwardly admit their craving for him is back, he’ll flirt and be gracious, but he’ll never touch them again.

Yes, the hat will often stay on during sex. For a while anyway.

John uses chems for a variety of reasons. One is addiction, one is mitigating massive amounts of emotional trauma, one is improving on his natural abilities (transhumanism) to give him an edge on his problems and enemies, one is seeking insight just as with the episode where he found his hat and coat, and one is because he’s a hedonist and they’re fun. He gives out chems because he assumes a bit too much that others will share at least some of these reasons--and also because he doesn’t want people in Goodneighbor dying from severe withdrawal symptoms or bad chems.

John tends to hide just how dangerous he is in a fight so that fools like Finn will underestimate him. He’s starting to reconsider this some, however, since if people around underestimate him too much they will challenge his position, and thus his ability to look after Goodneighbor.

Charon

Charon’s ghoulism is the result of an injection, same as Hancock’s or Eddie Winter’s. The people who brainwashed him wanted the perfect soldier. Ghouls are durable against hardships such as starvation and rad poisoning, they survive a very long time, and their inhuman appearance alienates them from most people. To make sure that Charon was both inhumanly tough and even more emotionally isolated/hyperfocused, he was made into a ghoul as soon as his training and indoctrination were completed. Evidence: he’s not unusually skinny like most ghouls, which can usually only be said of people who took the shot. Winter actually has a pot belly. If you look at Hancock in his Batman swim trunks (squee), you’ll notice he’s surprisingly ripped for a little guy. Then there’s Charon, the sole source of USDA prime ghoul beefcake in the Capital Wasteland. It doesn’t seem like a coincidence.

He was not named Charon by Ahzrukhal. He was named Charon by the group that indoctrinated him. One of them had a grasp of Ancient Greek history and mythology and, on giving a new name to a huge, forbidding-looking man with fierce blue-gray eyes, got inspired. “Charon” in Greek literally refers to "fierce, flashing, or feverish eyes, and/or eyes of a bluish-gray color", and he’s got both. I seriously doubt that Ahzrukhal, who couldn’t even anticipate the consequences of abusing a dangerous retainer and then freeing him of his obligations, would even get the eye reference. Instead, I suspect he purchased Charon’s contract in part because he’s a wannabe, had a theme going and could NOT resist a terrifying bodyguard who fit his “hehe I r demon and u r in hell” kindergoth aesthetic.

Charon does not trust Cerberus. He’s been in too many fights with Gutsies in the past to not notice how twitchy and prone to violent malfunction they are. Nor does he think that it’s safe to rely on a robot that explodes when severely damaged, with enough force to bring part of Underworld’s roof down. He is more observant than most of the Underworlders (though he’s not articulate enough to explain his observations), and may also have noticed the anti-ghoul comments Cerberus makes around smoothskins. It does not sit well with him that Cerberus may be one visitor’s button-push away from trying to murder them all. However, he has no opportunity or permission to speak with Doctor Barrows about the problem, and so instead picked up a few pulse grenades while out on a job for Ahzrukhal and keeps them handy.

Charon does not remember much of his human life, and none of his life before his indoctrination, including his original name.

Charon was originally indoctrinated to be completely obedient to his contractor; his ability to set certain boundaries, refuse non-combat missions, plot the murder of contractors whom he finds morally repugnant, and be sassy and sarcastic to his contractor are all indications of his strength of will, and subconscious resistance to being anyone’s slave.

Getting through to Charon emotionally or sexually would take a lot of time and work due to his indoctrination, his trauma and his total lack of experience connecting with others. His stoicism, which prevents him from being able to do things like grieve or ask for help, would additionally make him harder to connect with. He’s also thoroughly practiced in denying his own needs and desires, which doesn’t help.

Charon spends a lot of time going over past battles and security situations in his head when forced to stand watch as a bouncer day in and day out. Ahzrukhal thoroughly exploits his lack of a need for sleep, meaning that he never gets any time off or ability to speak with others unless he’s out on a job. The result can be days or even weeks of just standing there, watching and waiting. To keep from losing the rest of his sanity, he’ll replay old situations from his career in his head, both for the taste of past victory and to analyze his own tactics.

Nick Valentine

Nick suffers from pain and stiffness in his joints, especially neck/shoulders, because of dust and small debris getting in through his broken skin. He does what he can to repair and maintain himself, but because of his experiences he has a deep, almost unconscious distrust of roboticists, even if he could find one good enough to fix him up. Meeting his brother DiMA provides him with a possible source for repairs that he can trust, but he would still insist on being conscious through all procedures.

Nick is capable of love and sex, but didn’t even let it enter his mind for many years due to being haunted by the murder of his fiancee and his failure to bring Eddie Winter to justice. Now that Winter is dead, he’s way out of practice at romance, he still completely misses other people’s interest in him, still squashes any interest he has in another, still has body issues, and is shocked when anyone flirts openly with him.

Nick enjoys the smell and taste of cigarettes and scotch, but can’t drink scotch anymore because the damage to his face and neck would make him leak it all over himself. :(

Even after all this time, Nick will still look down at himself sometimes and be momentarily shocked to see a metal-framework hand instead of flesh and blood. Other times, he has trouble remembering what the flesh and blood felt like.

Nick has the most ridiculously overdeveloped work ethic of anyone this side of Preston Garvey.

#fallout #fallout 3 #fallout 4 #roleplaying #headcanons #nick valentine #john hancock #charon #mayor raisin #hardboiled toaster #not in my contract #ahzrukhal had it coming

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tkstrannd · 4 years ago

Text

Ronen Rubinstein as a potential boyfriend for William Clayton in GA&TC

Well following the events of Arrow 8.09 Green Arrow and the Canaries episode, Future Team Arrow has a lead in the “she” person and who is behind of all this mess of bringing all this trouble to the future, and this time the mission need William's brains in the field and not behind a computer, William needs to go undercover

-No definitely no- says Mia. You’re not going undercover it’s dangerous for you, you don’t have an extended training or any battle skills this could be dangerous.

-Come on it’s only party I don’t think that can be that dangerous and besides you will be there too, and who is the best in having my bad in the field than you, also Zoey and Connor will be there too, I think that I’ll be well secure.

-Fine -Mia sighs- But you don’t get to get lost from my sight alright

-All right just let me get ready i need get some files in the tablet and i have a suit already, it won’t take long.

-I’ll regret doing this- says Mia to herself

Now in the party looking for any resources that could lead to this “she” person William starts to scan all the room looking for anyone to get some info from, not exactly to get to the “she” person, the lead is to its second, the one that does all the dirty word and this person the second in charge, but could this person be there as their resources told FTA that he would be there, the only thing that FTA knew is that it was a He and that HE would be in the event

-Maybe would be someone who attracts a lot of attention- says William

Then we will have to wait a little more, because for me all this old men seens pretty boring to me- says Mia

As Mia says this, this gorgeous man enters the room and suddenly everybody in the room starts clapping to him, this gorgeous man that sudden made William lost his concentration that attractive 27ish male with those green eyes that could hypnotize you if you stare them right amount of time,a smile that would make you do anything that he would ask, brown hair long enough to have a curl on his forehead, slightly taller than William and a fit body that you could say that was made by the gods, he that could be wearing a suit that seens more like a second skin that which each movement that he makes the suits follows, as he turns to welcome the people to the party suddenly all the room starts to look at him, Him with an aubergine suit that William would say that is an ugly color but not in him, not in that physique, and Mia in the comms asking for anything new or suspicious and suddenly William couldn't articulate any word, he was shocked at the looks of the second in charge.- I-I think i found it- says Williams. I will get close to him

In matter of second this man is surrounded by people trying to talk to him, as William approaches to him, the man decides to leave the conversation with all these people and seens attracted to William.

-Did you know Argus in collaboration with Palmer tech built this place and is the most secure building in all Star City- says William to the man in the aubergine suit.

-Yeah I know I'm the one who ordered this building to be made with my exact specifications, this a total anti-meta building, anyone can’t get in without getting noticed. And as you can see all the doors only can be opened with biometric scans and the security firewall was created in association with Felicity Smoak so any one who tries to enter physical or virtually will have some trouble doing it say the man in the aubergine suit, -yeah I know- says William stuttering -I mean I know that it will be hard to enter this building with being invited, that is why I'm so amazed by this construction.

William Harris -he says giving his hand to the only man that has been able to make him hesitate without even talking to him.

Eliott -answers in the man in the aubergine suit returning the action and giving William his hand and with a firm handshake but he didn’t gave his last name, this is a little strange for William, everybody always introduce to him with a full name but not Eliott not this time but William let it past since he’s got his attention

-I've never seen any beautiful eye like yours- tells William to Eliott

-And I've never seen such a fine man in this building before, after me of course answers Eliot turning this conversation into a compliments battle almost at the point of flirting in the room, a room with almost fifty people where suddenly every disappears as Williams and Eliott talks, It’s like the room was only for then but no, the room was full of people, talks and classic music.

-Jesus get room- says Mia in the comms and William basically ignoring her, this was the time, the time where William will return the favor to Mia and not listen to the comms, Mia was furious - I can believe that he is doing me the same I did to him the last time- says Mia.

Zoey and Connor are in the comms too and both look at each other and says, now the turn tables right Mia, this wasn't the right time to make a boyfriend this was a serious and important mission but William seen to not care and He and Eliott wanted to take the conversation to some place more private.

Both William and Eliott goes to Eliot's office, So tell me more about this building -says Eliott- since you're so interested in this construction maybe you can tell me something that I don't know. Well -answers Williams- I know that any speedster can't phase this building, the guards are trained by ARGUS and the rotate turns each 6 hours so there won't be any tired guard and all these guards can be focused, but then William remembered that he doesn't have to say a lot, he doesn't want to blow up his cover, but I thinks that you already knows that tells William to Eliott with taking his eyes off of him, Yes that is correct -says Eliott- but maybe you can tell me more about yourself ask to William as he pours two cups of champagne,

-Well what can I say tech is my passion and anything related to Palmer tech would be my priority to study.

-Oh I see says Eliot, you work for Palmer Tech,

-Not like that- say William, more like a consultant, I specialize in virtual security actually I have my own company Harris Consolidated, and we are based in hackers security and meta tech, instead of preventing meta tech to be used in crimes we use them for security,

-So basically you're tell me that you're responsible for all the anti-meta security in my building- says Eliott. More or less -answers William- I don’t like to brag about my work, it’s what i love-

Now having more confidence than before but of course he has more now, they are in a private place and talking about what he does best, -Well let me tell you something -says Eliott- while he takes William's cup of champagne from his hand to fill them again, I know what you were staring at me since the moment I entered the room you're not very subtle. And there it goes all of William's confidence, it left the room the moment that Eliott said that, Don't worry -says Eliott- if I were you I will be looking at me all the night too, and William left a breath leave his chest and calm again.

Oh I see now -says William- You're very cocky

Eliot reaches Williams with the cup of champagne and leaves them over the table, You know what?, Let's get straight to business -says Eliot as he approaches even more close to William-, I don't like to make a lot of turns and after that Eliott grabs William by the suit and gives him a kiss in the mouth

I thought you wanted to make business -says William as he takes a breath of that kiss maybe wanting more, maybe being so sure of wanting more-

This is business -replies Eliott- or you will lie to my saying that this isn't the reason that you're here, to seduce the most attractive man in the room?

-At this moment William doesn’t know what to think, he can’t think straight well he never has do it, but at this moment he doesn’t know how to reach, He keeps kissing Eliott and enjoys it or he has to make a plan to get some info after all that is why he’s in that place, is Eliott really bad as he thinks?, does he really works for this “she” person?, he seens so nice but who knows apparences always lie. Something that William doesn’t know about Eliott is that he was trained by the League of Heroes created by Thea and Talia and he went rogue, when he found all those ancients books of the League of Assassins and he really wanted to make a change even if it was by his own hand, but this really didn’t matter after all this happened in earth one in the timeline before Crisis, but maybe this mattered after all, ever since the “she” person used Martian Manhunter’s tech on him to recover all of his memories from the erased timeline due to the creation of earth prime, and that in thew timeline he never lived through all that and he is "good", maybe he can use that training for something good, but not for the moment because Eliott works for the “she” person, maybe William can change something on him in the future, who knows?-

Well I wasn't exactly planning in seduce you but maybe this is a plus after all I just wanted to take a look at my work and you being here to show it is a total win, still kissing Eliot and with a shortness of breath after all this fine man takes William's breath away.

-Jesus -says Mia in the comms- and Zoey and Connor better decides to turn off their comms so they can't hear anything and in a moment of distraction William turns off his comms too for Mia's respect, they share everything after all they are siblings, but maybe William didn’t wanted to share this experience with all FTA and his little sister, not this experience that could possibly blow this mission and if William play well his card this could be the key to find HER

After a few minutes of kissing and laughs between kisses the clothes started to fall in the office's floor, yes that beautiful aubergine jacket fell on the floor and after all that William doesn’t thinks that it's an ugly color anymore, it was the turn of William Jack but Eliot wasn't so delicate taking William's jacket he was basically ripping off his clothes, Easy tiger -says William- I still need to turn to the party remember.

-I don't care says Eliot I can get you anything else if you want after all this is my building, and who say you will come back to the party?, come with me -tells Eliott to William while grabbing him by the hand and reaching the elevator.

Both of them goes one floor up and who could say that his building has a whole floor dedicated to be Eliott’s room. William is amazed by what he’s seeing the bed, the space and maybe just maybe Eliott new that i was going to be a long... night so he asked to get ready the room before they get there.

Alright them -says William- lets keep going with your business maybe we can have a good deal.

#mine

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longhornanderson · 5 years ago

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he left the bloodstains on the carpet ₪ seblaine

TAGGING: Sebastian Smythe & Blaine Anderson

WHEN: 5 MAR 2020, 1900

WHERE: One of the many UT Gyms

WHAT: One smooth criminal stops to lay down some lines on a sexy fellow student. Both of them fill with tension in a hot moment, however that tension shifts when they realize who exactly they’re flirting with.

BLAINE ANDERSON

Before every workout, Blaine always washed out the tightly held down curls and put away his bow ties. Then it was a tank top, zip up jacket, and shorts. Just like California, Texas always had that crisp air that made joggers unneeded. There was a bit of cold weather every now and then, but he liked to let his skin breathe for once.

Even though the university had several gyms, Blaine always choose the same one. He used his student id to check in and abandon his things in a locker. Walking into the gym, he was typing up his hands. He took his usual position next to the punching bags. He noted that somebody was there and did a small head nod. He knew them from days before. He started to move his arms in a bit of a warm up before peddling his feet. Hoping up and down, he started to get his body warmed up while his friend was just finishing up his own work out.

SEBASTIAN SMYTHE

the thing about sebastian is that he's a man of routines. or rather, the sort of man who plans a routine, follows it for a few days, and then changes it completely to better suit whatever he's got going on that day. but he makes the effort, which some days feels like half the battle. some of it is petulance, a way of thumbing his nose at the strict PT regimens he used to have to follow after the accident; it is, if he's honest, the only reason he still bothers with the gym. ( though picking up hot guys is surely an added bonus. )

he's fresh off the treadmill, 40 minutes of light cardio down and about an hour of weights training to go, when he let's his ennui get the best of him. his eyes dart around the room as he wipes down his equipment, eyes locking onto fists connecting with a punching bag a few stations over. he doesn't recognize the guy — not unusual, given he usually frequents the gym closer to his dorm room, but decides there's no better time than to change that. so he tosses the cloth over his shoulder, approaches like a predator stalking his prey as he comes up from behind. ( in reality, he simply dips his head down to drink from the water fountain ... affording him the opportunity to get a good look at that ass. ) but he's not a creep, so he straightens up and makes his presence known. " nice form. "

BLAINE ANDERSON

Eventually, Blaine high fived his friend and waved him off. Afterward, he put up his hood and continued his warm up. Striking lightly, getting use to the sensation. There was nothing he was particularly angry about today, but he had enough energy for short loud burst. With his body warm, he started one of his usual routine.

Blaine fell in love with Gym culture. Every once and a while, you'd run into that one jackass. Overall, everybody was cool. Blaine found himself talking to some of the regulars after his workouts. Especially if they come talk to him during. So when he felt eyes on him, Blaine didn't stop. He kept hitting, letting the sweet sound of the sand bag vibrate in his ears.

"Thanks." Blaine growled through clinched teeth. He didn't mean it, he was in the moment. He breathed out his next sentence. "Better be, being doing this for years." He got in three more jabs. Left, right, left. Front curls flopped out the front of his hoodie. The last hit was louder than the rest. He breathed out the tightness in his muscles. He leaned onto the punching bag as he reached down to get his water bottle, keeping his face unintentionally hidden from Sebastian. His dark eyes glanced around to the other punching bags. "I'll be off in about five minutes if you want a round." Blaine offered as he took a drink.

SEBASTIAN SMYTHE

the guy's intense, focused on what he's doing, and sebastian respects that. he watches as fists hit the bag, interest in his eyes as he comments. " it shows. impressive. how ... rocky balboa, of you. " he turns away for a moment, goes through the motions of filling his water bottle even though he's already decided to cut his work out off short.

the smirk settles easily when the guy responds, his voice smooth like silk as he responds. " depends. if you're asking if i want a round with the bag ... i think i'll pass. " it's as subtle as a giggle at a funeral but that's sort of his M.O. he sees what he wants and he goes for it. " -- but i was just about to hit the showers, maybe go for a drink. " brows lift, eyes still dancing over the muscles of the mystery man's back. selfishly, he'd be just as happy skipping the drinks and heading straight to dessert ... but he's patient. or can be. ( you have to work for the things you want in life. ) " what do you say, killer ? "

BLAINE ANDERSON

Blaine almost blushed at the compliment. He had to admit, it was nice to get this sort attention. This wasn't the first time that Blaine picked up numbers at the gym. A smile formed on his lips around the water bottle. He finished his sip.

Drinks though? This was new. It took all his might not to whip around to get a look at the man who was flirting with him. Oh that voice, it was so smooth, silky, so sexy. But there was something so familiar about that voice. Especially the use of that word, Killer. "Well, if you need a partner--" He finally turned around and his hoodie fell off his head. Loose curls bounced out and adjusted to the frame of Blaine face. The words got caught in his throat as he finally saw Sebastian's face. "Sebastien." Blaine articulated every syllable of his name carefully. "Sebastian." He repeated with wide eyes.

SEBASTIAN SMYTHE

he'll kick himself later for not waiting to see a face before laying on the charm. he's a sucker for tight muscles and loose curls and apparently they've finally gotten him into trouble. he'd always figured it would happen one day, but he'd never expected to accidentally flirt with his archenemy ( okay, that's a stretch. blaine barely cracks the top five ' worst people he's ever met ' list on a good day ) like something out of a romantic comedy. a meet cute. ugh, he hates everything about this.

" you. " it's almost an accusation, like somehow this is blaine's fault. " you're ... not who i expected. " no way, no how, in a million years would he have imagined that this was what lingered beneath the bowties and excessive amounts of hairgel. the fact that blaine anderson is hot is borderline offensive; it should be a crime. he refrains from saying as much though, he needs to maintain a modicum of self-respect. ( he can bounce back from this. he's a smythe, it's what he does best; spin. ) " so this is what happens when you strip away the hairgel and the sweater vests. " he observes, clicking his tongue against his teeth. " huh. " despite his annoyance, his eyes are still reluctantly glued to the sweat gathering at the hollow of his throat. ( he wonders, with his traitorous mind, how satisfying it would be to push him up against the wall and taste the salt against his skin. so much for self respect. )

BLAINE ANDERSON

Two seconds ago, Sebastian's voice made him trip. The way those golden words had captured him and made him eager. Blaine could feel the high he got whenever he was talking to Sam or another cutie. As he took in those beautiful green eyes, Blaine cursed himself for falling for that irresistible charm. Damn it. How did it get to this point. If Sebastian knew, Blaine knew he wouldn't live this down.

His lips wavered slightly at Sebastian's harsh tone. Now that Blaine was looking at Sebastian clearly, Blaine suddenly became flushed with rage. That way he spoke reminded him of the daunting arguments in class Sebastian's infuriating way of speaking. Surprisingly, that's not what caught him off guard. Sebastian was... hot. Hidden beneath preppy clothes and a smart mouth, there were well defined muscles and lean long legs. Blaine's jaw clinched. His brown eyes danced over Sebastian's body. If it was anybody else, he wouldn't even be wasting his time on drinks.

"Right back at cha." He stretched out neck, gave slight glare and matched Sebastian's tone. "And it looks like you're a big fan, considering five seconds ago you were just asking me out to drinks." The words poured from his mouth as if somebody else were taking over him. The water bottle in Blaine's hand crumpled under the pressure. "Or did you come over here just to tell me that? Because that's a little bit weird to stalking a gym Bas." Blaine hissed Sebastian's name, as if Sebastian were the dark lord.

SEBASTIAN SMYTHE

the fact that blaine's right might be what makes this all the more infuriating. he has him backed into a corner, unable to refute the claims that — yes, he'd clearly liked what he saw. denying that now would simply be an insult to both of their intelligence. ( blaine might get under his skin, but he's no idiot. he can acknowledge that. ) he huffs, jaw clenching as he sucks in a breath. the anger clenches white hot, knuckles in a similar state where they're gripping his water bottle in a deadly fashion. were it not stainless steel, he's sure it would warp under his fingertips. " congratulations. you're attractive. " a pause, deliberate. " when you're not talking. quick, someone get him a medal. " or a muzzle, he thinks dryly.

he sees red at the nickname, something he feels is too personal for blaine to spitting at him; like its a weapon in his arsenal, twisted to inflict pain. ( well two can play at that game. ) " trust me, stalking you is not on my to do list. " he takes a step closer, crowding in on blaine's personal space as his eyes narrow. there's a fire burning in his chest, whether it be the rage or something more, and rather than try to extinguish it — he pours the gasoline and watches it ignite. " it's sebastian. " words are light, but there's an edge to it. " unless we're in bed and you're moaning it. " right inflection, wrong words; because now that's where his head's at, and he knows almost instantly that he's toeing a line he should be wary about crossing.

BLAINE ANDERSON

Blaine felt his body go ridged when he realized he called Sebastian a nickname. What came over him in that moment? The air that came out of his mouth wavered. How did Sebastien have this power over him? To make him stumble. Neck cranked up and a scold on his face, he took in Sebastian’s words. Sebastien though he was attractive? Oh how this made Blaine want to cave to Sebastian. Steal him away into a broom closet to enjoy seven minutes in heaven. A more adult version of that though. Then Sebastian had to ruin it. Send Blaine back to the original reason why Sebastian made him angry. When Sebastien stepped over him, Blaine cranked his neck. He felt every cell in his body. From the tips of his toes, to the fibers in his chest hairs, and to the roots of his hair. Suddenly, Blaine felt his nakedness in front of Sebastian. Instead of cowering away, Blaine leaned his head back more to match those intense eyes. He put on a scold of his own. He let out a brave scoff, knowing the heat of his breathe would reach Sebastian. “Even though you’re hot as hell, never in your wildest dream.” Those words lingered on his lips. At the end, Blaine could feel his heart thumping wildly in his neck. If it weren’t for the height difference, Sebastian could probably felt Blaine heat rising from his skin. “I’ll try to remember that next time.” Blaines brown eyes lingered just a second longer before he ripped his gaze away. He stepped aside and aimed for the door with his chest held high.

SEBASTIAN SMYTHE

he's almost grateful that blaine retreats, leaves him feeling like he's won even if it wasn't a competition, or a fight. has he won though when he's still thinking about him even as he retreats? ( he hates that, a little. hates how he fixates on things, how he can never just let it go. ) the fact that blaine clearly finds him attractive, has said as much and made it abundantly clear, only fuels the fire. " until next time. " he calls out after him, the beginnings of a smirk warming his features. with blaine's back to him, it's likely he won't see the flush to his cheeks. it's good; for the best. on the list of mistakes he'd made this week, he has no intentions of adding hate fucking blaine anderson onto it. no, no thank you. " i'll see you around. in your dreams, i'd bet. " he turns and makes a beeline for the treadmills; weight training will have to wait, he needs to run — burn off whatever's pounding in his veins. ( if he won, why does it still feel like he's fighting? )

BLAINE ANDERSON

Stiff back, head held high, quick legs. It took all of Blaine's control to keep his body from collapsing at the exhaustion of that interaction. He kept this up all the way to his locker room and even beyond the doors of the gym. It wasn't until he got to his car did Blaine finally let a breathe out. *What the hell*? He thought to himself. With the thought he breathed out. Suddenly light headed, as if for the last ten minutes he was all on one breathe. One thing was evident, Sebastian had gotten to him. However, not in the way he wanted.

#seblaine #seblaine rp #para; sebastian #he left bloodstains on the carpet

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fuzzyizmit · 5 years ago

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Beastly Kingdom - Chapter 17 - Confessional

The Minutemen’s flag fluttered on top of Fizztop Grille early the next morning. Within three months, Nate stopped bothering to read the progress reports that showed up in his weekly dossiers. He was more than happy to let Nuka-World fade into the background noise of his life, another feather in his Commonwealth cap… one he wasn’t particularly fond of rehashing around campfires over a Bobrov’s Best. The only problem with this plan became evident was as soon as it had become news that Nuka-World had working pre-war attractions and someone told Mayor John Hancock. The idea of visiting a theme park, or large-scale entertainment of any kind, was virtually unheard of in the Commonwealth. Tales of whole settlements traveling to experience the pre-war wonders started to spread. They included tales of new exotic animals, a giant market filled with every vendor you could imagine and heart stopping pre-war amusement rides. On top of all that, the existence of a new home for wayward ghouls, including less violent ferals, must have started keeping Hancock up at night. At every chance, Hancok pestered Nate, his best buddy and Commonwealth hero, for a personal tour.

He managed to stall for a year before he found himself again under the cheery giant red archway, a nearly giddy Hancock in tow. Somehow, Nate couldn’t quite manage the same level of excitement.

Hancock’s eyes lit up when they entered Nuka-Cade. The flashing lights and near musical cadence of clicks, buzzers and ringing bells appeared to cast a spell over him. Nate couldn’t suppress a smile as the ghoul ran from machine to machine, tossing Atomic Roller balls and smashing commies with a 200-year-old whacker. Nate was sure Hancock must have been sneaking hits of something in between parks. Each new park area and ride was met with the same manic level of energy… either that or he was getting a sugar high from all Nuka-Cola diffused in the air. Nate lost count how many he repeatedly rode the Nuka-Galaxy coaster, only stopping after he nearly lost his lunch whipping around the alien outpost.

Their last stop was Kiddie Kingdom, a place firmly on Hancock’s must-visit list. There was no getting out of it, no matter how much Nate wanted to avoid it. Once inside, Hancock was off, the ever-curious social butterfly stretching his wings. Hancock sought out Oswald to commiserate on ghoul community governance before catching a ride on the go-carts.

Nate stuck to the periphery, alone with his thoughts. He noticed Oswald slowly made his way towards him as he leaned against a nearby fence.

“I haven’t had a chance to thank you and the Minutemen for everything you’ve done. Kiddie Kingdom has become quite the bustling settlement since…” he trailed off, searching a diplomatic phrase. “last year.”

“Yeah, well, you’re welcome.” Questions buzzed in Nate’s mind, but one burned the brightest. “How is she?” Oswald raised a brow. “Liz, I mean… my reports don’t exactly go into that much detail.” He half lied.

Oswald seemed a bit surprised at the question but answered. “She…” he hesitated. “Honestly, Liz’s never been all that comfortable here, after everything she’s been through.” He glanced over to the tower. The steps now occupied by a new merchant stall, the blood stains long faded. “She sat on those steps, moaning non-stop, for nearly three months. She wouldn’t even move until Louis was nothing but a pile of bones. After that,” he shifted uncomfortably, his shoulder slumping slightly. “She would just stand in one spot for days on end, randomly wandering off to find another. Most of the time, I’d find her just staring at a wall.”

He let out a little sighed. “At least she didn’t appear to be upset anymore. Lately, she’ll stray while I am working with someone else. We’ll find her perched on the edge of a fire escape or standing on a roof top somewhere, leaving us scratching our heads on how she got there.”

He looked down at the ground. “I get the impression she’s lost without him. In the beginning, I thought maybe this place could become home to her. Now… I’m not sure it will ever be.” Oswald peered at Nate from under the brim of his black top hat. “Why do you ask? No one here now knows who she truly was before, besides me. Why do you care?”

Nate didn’t really have a response. “She was my neighbor,” he offered but the words felt hollow, incomplete.

Oswald bristled, straightening his lapel. “Liz was a lot of things,” he said before abruptly getting up and walking off.

Nate eventually found Hancock shamelessly flirting with a ghoul at a concession stall. He had somehow turned a complement on their selection of sweet funnel cakes into something less than wholesome, getting a blush out of more than just the confectioner.

Nate needed to get out of Kiddie Kingdom, so he threw out the first thing to come to mind. “Hey, want to see the bottling plant where they used to hide all the nukalurks?”

“Fuck yeah!”

The pair made their way out a rarely used side entrance. The path that lead to the bottling plant was badly overgrown. Halfway to their destination, a movement behind a tree caught Nate’s eye. His battle hardened reflexes kicked in. Drawing his sidearm swiftly, he dropped behind a rusting trash can and took aim. Hancock followed his lead, brandishing his own shotgun on the fallen log. The figure behind the tree swayed but didn’t make a move.

“Who’s there? Come out! Slowly!” Nate commanded. The figure didn’t move. Nate, with Hancock covering from behind, broke cover. Moving closer, Nate’s jaw dropped as he recognized the face.

“Liz?!” tumbled out of his mouth, both a question and statement at the same time. Even though the two of them stood no more than a few dozen feet away from her with weapons drawn, Liz stood and stared. She remained passive and did not move to attack.

Nate relaxed his posture a bit and took a step closer. He cautiously lowered his pistol a few degrees, the muzzle still trained on the feral that had once held all Nuka-World in the palm of her hand. Liz slightly straightened up, letting out a faint hiss. It appeared she was trying to square her shoulders, as if she was trying to mirror the man in front of her. Slowly, Nate inched closer.

“Um, mind cluing me in here, buddy?” Hancock called after him, shotgun unwavering.

Taking one hand from his gun, Nate held it out in front of him. “It’s okay, Liz. Let’s get you back home. Oswald is going to be wondering where you are… you shouldn’t be out here.” His mind raced trying to come up with some safe way to somehow shoo the feral ghoul back to safety, behind the Kiddie Kingdom’s high walls.

She shifted nervously as he got close. Simultaneous, both he and Hancock noticed something glint in her hand.

“She’s got a weapon!” cried Hancock, finger on the trigger.

“Easy, John.” With the way Liz was acting, Nate got the feeling she wasn’t a threat.

For the first time, Liz lock eyes with him and held him there. Slowly she raised an ugly shard of glass up to her chest, clutched in her left hand. She placed the ragged tip to her chest and let out a gravely rough bark, her bloodshot eyes drilling into Nate’s brown. Nate’s gun fell to his side as the tension in his shoulders evaporated. She barked again.

“Boss?” Hancock confusion palpable in his voice.

Nate waved at Hancock to be quiet. He didn’t dare take his eye off her. “She’s… harmless.” He lied. They weren’t in any danger.

Her grip on the shard tightened. Liz’s bark turned into a howl. Swiftly, she unwaveringly stabbed her chest. The shard slid in her grip, slicing into her fingers before snapping awkwardly in half. She looked down, bewildered by her torn bloody hand. She let out a sad little huff. Her disappointment was nearly palpable.

Nate walked forward, slowly drawing his knife from the sheath on his belt.

“I don’t know who took your weapon… but you can have mine.” Getting a closer look at Liz’s clothing, it was clear to Nate why the glass didn’t work. Her coveralls, though weather-worn and filthy, were still lined with ballistic weave. Even his combat knife might have trouble piercing the armored fabric.

“Let me help.” He gently reached up, pulled the zipper down slightly and carefully tugged the fabric to the side. She watched his every move, still as a statue. Opening her hand, the bloody shard fell to the concrete with a clatter. Nate offered the knife. Her right hand shot out, her boney fingers wrapping around his wrist. He nearly reflexively retaliated but forced himself to let her guide his hand holding the weapon over the exposed skin of her collar and chest.

Liz’s torn lips twitched, her face stretching into an ugly grimace. Her eyes where fierce as she stared at him, as if she could push her broken thoughts into his mind by sheer force of will. She grunted in frustration, her ability to articulate herself completely lost. Instead she let out a loud assertive howl and waited. After a moment of silence, Nate understood. He gave one of his own, though shakier, yell. Nate heard shouts and footsteps pounding the pavement in the distance. With her eyes still locked on his, Liz continued barking, with Nate answering her. The two of them getting louder and faster with each chorus.

Reaching a crescendo, Liz wrapped her other hand around the hilt of the blade, plunging it into her chest. Her knees collapsed under her. Nate caught her as she fell just as a handful of worried looking ghouls with weapons drawn arrived on the scene. She was much lighter than he expected.

“Sir, are you alright?” one asked.

Nate lifted Liz’s lifeless body into his arms. “Get Oswald,” he ordered. By the time he returned to Kiddie Kingdom, a throng of ghouls rubbernecking had gathered around him. As he laid Liz down on a park bench and closed her eyes, the ghouls parted, letting their tuxedoed leader through.

“What… what happened?”

The General shook his head as he kneeled next to the bench. He couldn’t think of anything meaningful to say. How could he explain how Liz had somehow, in her feral-addled mind, sought him out for this one final act? Oswald’s face fell as the weight of the loss settled on his shoulders.

Standing up, Nate faced Oswald. “I’d like to take her back to Sanctuary with me.” Shock and anger flashed across the glowing ghoul’s face. “She was my neighbor. It seems only right she finally returns home after all these years.” He bowed his head slightly in deference to Oswald. “If that is alright with you.”

Nate could see Oswald consider the prospect, mulling it over as he frowned down at Liz. After a small sigh, he nodded his agreement, leaving Nate to organize the specifics.

By the time evening fell, Nate had procured a pack brahmin and cart, as well as a makeshift coffin. Oswald returned briefly to place a bright red Nuka-World toy truck in her hands before helping Nate nail the lid on. Nate was thankful Hancock had done his best to keep out of the way, letting the ghouls of Nuka-World help prepare one of their own for her final journey. He anticipated an avalanche of questions, though, as soon as they set out along the road to Sanctuary.

The previous year, it would have been considered foolhardy to travel the roads at night. One risked attack by innumerable bands of roaming bandits or deadly irradiated wildlife. Nowadays, with the Minutemen securing the Commonwealth, neither of the two seasoned wanderers were worried as they walked lazily behind the bulky wagon and it’s grim cargo.

As the bright lights of Nuka-World faded behind them, Hancock finally piped up. “So, you gonna fill me in about what all that was?”

“How much do you want to know?”

Hancock casually shrugged. “I’m a blank slate, brother. Start from the beginning.”

Nate found he need to take a deep breath to gather his thoughts. The semi-rhythmic clattering of the cart over the broken pavement steadied his thoughts like a rickety metronome.

“Liz Rosa lived across the street from Nora and I, from before…”

Over the years Nate had grown tired of having to constantly divide his life. Before the bombs. After the war. 200 years were gone in the blink of an eye.

“She was a widow by the time we moved in. She lived with her son, Louis. Great kid. He was always helping out around the neighborhood.” Nate glanced down at his worn boots. “Only a select few were chosen to be a part of the Vault.”

“Let me take a wild guess.” Hancock nodded toward the coffin. “Liz wasn’t on the list.”

Nate nodded. “She survived the end of the world, all while we slept frozen in the ground.” He could feel a lump growing, an angry bee buzzing in the back of his throat. “She watched everyone and everything around her die or turn feral.”

Tipping his hat, Hancock commiserated. “That’s fucking rough.”

The brahmin’s ears twitched, it’s two heads shifting nervously from side to side.

“Yeah, but despite it all, she adapted.” The brahmin stomped as they walked on. “Liz became as vicious as the world she found herself in. The raiders created what they called the Gauntlet, a depraved way to test someone’s metal… that is how Liz became the Overboss of everything. The raiders filled it with every kind of nasty trap, creature and murderer they could find. Stay alive though it and you could challenge the current Overboss for to take your place at the top of the heap. You ever see the ant swarms in Nuka-World?”

Hancock shook his head.

“Well, consider your self lucky. Imagine dozens of small lightning fast mirelurk hatchlings, each with the strength of young yao guai. Oh, and they fly.”

“Damn!”

“From what I heard, they had some really nasty native species to contend with when they arrived. Truth be told, the raiders tamed nearly all of Nuka-World.”

“Better them than us, right?” Hancock grinned back at him.

Nate had a hard time returning the good-natured smile. “She held Nuka-World firmly in the palm of her hand by the time I slogged through the Gauntlet. She recognized me, though, when I asked for an audience. Even after all the years, she remembered me. Wish I could say the same.” The ghoul walking by his side winced. “She even recognized Codsworth. She smiled as she filled him full of bullets and had him stripped for scrap. It didn’t make any sense at the time, other than she was a cold-blooded bitch.”

“What do you mean?”

“Raiders only respond to two things. Caps and power. And not necessarily in that order. How would she have looked to her people if she welcomed me into Nuka-World, the General of the Minutemen, after I waltzed through her deadly labyrinth unchallenged? Codsworth was my price of admission to the park.”

The brahmin stopped. The creature pawed at the ground. Hancock patted the brahmin’s thick neck, looking into its wide eyes. It lowed nervously.

Something blue glowed in the darkness, just out of sight. “Hancock, there only the one thing in the cart. If we let the brahmin find their own way back, do you think we could muscle it the rest of the way to Sanctuary?”

Hancock eyed the small cart and its single piece of cargo. “Between us two strapping gents… we could manage. Why?”

Nate started to calmly unhitch the scared creature. “Go home,” He coached the frightened animal before giving the beast a light thump on its rump. The brahmin didn’t need any encouragement to bound off into the night, the lantern attached to its back in fading into the distance. He turned to Hancock, who, in the weak light of the moon, cocked an eyebrow in his direction.

“I have a feeling we are about to have a visitor. Don’t make any quick movements.” Nate got up into the back of the cart and started to pry the weakly secured lid off the coffin. Hancock opened his mouth to ask a question, but no sound came out. The bright blue glow ominously filled the road.

Nate jumped down and slowly backed away. “Come say goodbye, Mama.”

Mama’s huge frame stepped into what was left of the highway. A few remnants of her once gleaming white armor clung to her, clattering against her thick hide. She cautiously stepped towards the cart, her nose twitching.

“Holy fuck!” mumbled Hancock. On impulse, his hands went to his shotgun. Lightning quick, Mama turned to him and growled, her hackles raised.

“Jesus, John! I told you! Don’t move!” Nate hissed. He prayed the giant understood his intentions. If he was wrong, they would find themselves dead very quickly.

Slowly and deliberately, Hancock let go of his gun, raising his hands up in front of him. Mama snorted, eyeing him once over, and returned to the cart. As the behemoth passed Nate, he noticed her helmet. It shifted with every movement, often slipping down and obscuring her field of view.

Reaching the cart, the deathclaw peered inside the box. She pushed the lid aside, causing it to fall and crash beside the cart. Out of the corner of his eye, Nate could see his eyes widen when Mama nuzzled the body inside gently. Mama let out Nate would be tempted to call a coo, but it was a disturbingly low and rumbling sound. After a moment, Mama backed away and turned to leave.

“Mama?” Nate managed to gulp. Mama froze and turned her massive head towards him.

Even though he knew it was a horrible idea, he felt obliged to help the creature. She had been huge key to their victory against the Brotherhood. There was very little he could do thank such a beast, but he could release her from the annoyance of her slowly disintegrating armor.

Approaching slowly, he put is palms out in front of him, showing her that he was not hiding any weapons in his hands. Her glowing blue eyes followed his every move, but she stayed stock still. He had no idea if she could understand him like Liz, but he talked to her calmly as he carefully felt for the latch to release the helmet. He was so close he could see the irritated skin around her face and eyes from the constant rubbing. It felt like an eternity before the metal clasp materialized under his fingers. Soon the pieces of armor fell away.

Mama shook her head, nearly hitting Nate with one of her huge curling horns. He skittered backwards, tripping over the uneven pavement. Suddenly sitting in the road, he watched as Mama glanced back at Hancock, over to him and then to the cart one last time before bounding away into the night, the ground shaking.

It wasn’t until the blue glow faded away did either man let out their collective breath.

Nate pulled himself to his feet. “So, did I ever tell you Liz tamed a giant quantum deathclaw?” He propped the casket lid back in place.

“You don’t say?” Hancock shot Nate a sarcastic smirk over the side of the cart and chuckled. “A tame deathclaw. I overheard a few Minutemen in The Third Rail say something about that once. That’s damn impressive. How did you know the deathclaw wouldn’t attack? Did Liz teach you any of her tricks?”

Nate chuckled. “I didn’t know, but I saw the rapport the two had. Mama followed Liz around like giant scaly puppy. If Mama wanted to eat us, she would have before either of us could have done much to stop her.”

The two of them awkwardly took up the yoke and began to drag the cart along the road, the conversation abandoned as they concentrated on the difficult the task at hand. The lights of the Red Rocket truck stop came into view. The lookouts quickly spotted their slow approach. Recognizing the General, they sent out a few settlers to help shoulder the burden the last short leg to Sanctuary.

Back behind the clattering card, Hancock piped up. “Liz seemed to recognize you back in Nuka-World, even though she was feral. That’s pretty rare. You would have thought she be out for revenge… or did she have some other sadistic reason to have you as an audience for… all that?”

Nate shook his head. “That’s not it at all.” Nate remembered back to the mortally wounded hunter who brought Mama in. “I witnessed something similar the first time I was in the park. Liz helped a dying raider to end their life on their own terms. Guess she realized I’m the last one alive that would remember that.”

They fell into silence again as they reached the wide wooden bridge leading into the cul-de-sac that made up the settlement of Sanctuary Hills. More settlers greeted them. Nate stopped the cart in front of the old Rosa residence. No longer ringed with award winning roses, the yellow siding faded and spotted with clunky repairs. It now housed a bustling workshop that fabricated nearly everything needed for the prosperous settlement. The commotion woke Sanctuary’s resident handyman dozing inside.

“Hey, General.” Sturges rubbed his eyes lazily. “What’s all the fuss at this hour? Bring me something fun to work on?” His eyes started to sparkle at the prospect of new work.

“Sorry to wake you. There’s nothing for you to do here, expect point me towards enough wood for a pyre.” Sturges face fell. He recoiled from the side of the cart.

“Look out past the old foot bridge to the Vault. We’ve been stacking junk out that way lately. I think I’ll head back to bed, if that’s alright with you.”

Nate started to wordlessly gather a large pile of scrap wood behind the workshop in the open field formed by several unused backyards. Hancock quickly joined it, followed by a few helpful night owls. They followed Nate’s example. No one talked. Soon, the pyre was set ablaze, Liz nestled securely in the middle.

Nate found himself settled in an old lawn chair, a half-finished bottle of vodka in one hand. Hancock sat next to him. The rest, after waiting a respectful moment, returned to their homes and warm beds.

Hancock waited on him, the crackling fire reflecting in his dark shadowed eyes. They drank and smoked in silence.

Without warning, words flowed from Nate’s mouth. He felt like a faucet, suddenly turned on, full blast.

“I remember this one time, right after Nora and I moved in. Louis and another kid were playing across the street in the front yard. No one was paying much attention, but it was summer and the windows were open. Suddenly an intense argument started. The other boy shoved Louis into the rosebushes. Liz flew out of the house like a banshee. She sent the kid running home with his tail between his legs.” Shaking his head at the memory, Nate continued. “It was an open secret how much of a momma bear she was, but she it was clear that she loved him. She would take on anyone she thought hurt her son. She was fearless.” Looking down into the bottle in his hands, he realized it was almost empty.

Hancock handed him another, this time a bottle of bourbon. “That sounds familiar.”

Popping the top, Nate gave the ghoul a little nod before taking a swallow. He watched the flames licking out of the wood, thinking of the fury he leveled at Kellogg the day he confronted him. A fury he ended up turning on his own son, Shaun, when he burned the Institute to the ground. No, not Shaun, not his Shaun. Father.

“It makes me wonder, if our situations were reversed, could I have done everything she did… survive that long, become the Overboss… raise an army... hell! She took on Liberty Prime pretty much single handedly! All to keep her boy safe.”

“What? The kid ghoulified? Damn.”

Nate faced Hancock. “Yeah. Feral, too. She somehow kept him safe all these years. She was good at hiding him. In all the time I was there, no one said a thing about a kid. Everyone though Liz took trips to Kiddie Kingdom to shack up with Oswald.” He turned back to the fire. “Well, almost everyone.” A log split with a crack in the blaze, mixing with the flash from Gage’s muzzle and the percussive bang of Kellogg’s 44. “Her right-hand-man got pissed she got the raiders to reform and killed him in front of her. Liz went feral instantly. I saw it, the moment she lost it. Honestly, I can’t blame her.” Nate kicked a stone idly. “Not that any of that mattered. Not in the end.”

Hancock took a long drag from his cigarette. “What do you mean? About the reforming bit?”

Sighing, Nate frowned. “The Nuka-World raiders had been creeping into the Commonwealth. Sometimes they would strong-arm settlers, other times they would take some a whole settlement. They were getting bold, hinting at their numbers and power. There were rumors about Nuka-World, of a working power plant and enslaved traders. Preston and I hatched a plan. Offer them a carrot, something so enticing they couldn’t refuse. An easy way to make caps hand over fist, trade with all the big settlements. Getting them to agree to our terms to become cannon fodder against the Brotherhood was paired with setting’em on some impossible task. To keep them distracted, see.” A lump rose in his throat. “But how the hell was I supposed to know Liz could actually do it? On top of freeing the traders, she did the fucking impossible! She civilized the fucking Nuka-World raiders! Proper Commonwealth citizens, the whole nine yards. She even sacrificed a third of her people to ensure the rest would follow the plan.” Feeling the pain of his nails digging into this hand, he took a moment to loosen his grip on the neck of the bottle. “But all that was just a smoke screen. We needed them to turn away from the Commonwealth… divert them. The Brotherhood would thin their numbers, exhaust their men and resources. Take them down to a manageable amount so we could easily overwhelm them and wipe’em out.” The fire burned hot, throwing long dancing shadows into the darkness. “Maybe it’s better she went feral. She never saw her empire fall.”

When Nate looked back to Hancock’s silhouette, the flickering fire played with the deep scars on his face, obscuring his expression.

“Let me get this straight.” His dark eyes narrowed. “Liz did everything you asked of her, made everyone change their ways, went to war for you… and you stabbed her in the back?”

Nate back pedaled. “You don’t understand. As soon as Liz went feral, the place started falling apart. Her bosses were already at each other throats. The gangs were in chaos even before I set foot out of the park.”

“No. That’s not what you said. You made plans to take what you wanted before that shit even went down. Someone had something you wanted, so you were going to take it… any means necessary.”

“That’s not fair, John. They were raiders…”

Hancock stood up. “Stop right there. You said yourself. They were reformed. Those weren’t raiders you had slaughtered. They were citizens! You didn’t even give them a chance!” The light of the fire lit Hancock with an ominous red glow.

Nate stammered, but the ghoul cut him off again. “And here you are, burning the corpse of the woman you betrayed. What are you going to do when she’s nothing ash in that pyre? Piss on her blackened bones to put her out?” His eyes burned. “You brought her back here because you feel guilty. You’re trying to hide your shame.”

Nate couldn’t look Hancock in the face anymore. Nor could he lift his eyes to the fire. He stared down at his mud caked boots, the empty bottle limp in his hand. John was right.

“Maybe the next thing that catches your eye is a little town close to Diamond City with some fancy memory tech and a hopping drug trade. Or what about a prosperous tarberry bog farm?”

Hancock’s knife in his guts would have been less painful than that stab. “John, please, it’s not like that.”

“Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. How’s a ghoul ‘spose to know?” He pulled his tri-corned hat down, covering his eyes. “I’m need to take a walk.”

Nate sat in silences as he walked away. Why had he spilled his guts to Hancock like that? No one else knew everything that had happened. He understood how badly it would go. Hancock hated it when people punched down. Hancock would probably never trust him again, not like before. Maybe he would even hate him. God knew Nate hated himself right now.

He wasn’t surprised when Hancock didn’t return that night.

All that was left by the time sun rose was glowing embers. Nate shivered, wet from the morning dew. The mundane sounds of Sanctuary waking up bloomed around him. Sturges brought him a steaming cup of coffee, but it did little to warm him.

Soberly, Nate gathered what remained of Ms. Elizabeth Rosa. He buried her beneath were her brilliant red roses used to grow. None of the people around him understood why he went about this duty stone faced and without a word, but they gave him a wide birth.

Eventually, Hancock’s anger cooled but Nate didn’t quite feel the same connection they had before.

Over time, an aggressive radioactive fern grew over her grave. Nothing anyone tried could uproot it from its spot. It returning bigger year after year, causing the inhabitants of the settlement to give it a wide birth. Nate figured it was the best fitting tribute to the ghoul who rested beneath it’s toxic leaves.

---

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading my first finished fic. I appreciate everyone who read and enjoyed my little story. I still have plans for a small prequel focusing on pre-war Liz and her family, so I'm not quite done with her yet! I hope I gave her a proper send off... if not, Liz might come back and slit my throat for the insult! ;)Thank you again for reading! <3 If you want to follow me on AO3, please feel free!

#beastly kingdom #fanfic #fan fic #ao3 #Ghoul #sosu #hancock #final chapter #done #fallout #fallout 4 #nukaworld

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