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bunji-enthusiast · 28 days ago

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unwilling bond

Summary || Radcliffe in a mysterious set of circumstances, passes away far earlier then of his expected years. So Cecil Stedman, the now new director of the Global Defense Agency, begrudgingly takes in a freshly-traumatized Rex Sloan.

WC: 5.9k

note // sort of an au thing, I asked @ground-control-2-major-tom23 for permission. here's the initial post of the au. Basically different intervals of time where their dynamic slowlyyy changes, I think.

[5:72. Morning, first meet]

The air in the office feels thicker than it should. Cecil stands by the large desk, his fingers tapping impatiently against the sleek surface as he waits for Rex to be brought in. The office is stark, utilitarian—nothing like the comfort of Radcliffe’s leadership, but more functional. He’s just taken the reins of the Global Defense Agency after Radcliffe’s death, and now this... kid. He can already feel the weight of the situation pressing on him.

The door swings open with a quiet thud, and in steps Rex, flanked by two agents, who seem like they’d rather be anywhere else. Rex’s posture is casual, almost arrogant, like he owns the place already. His gaze is sharp, defiant—a kid who’s been through a lot, and who’s somehow come out the other side even harder. But there’s also something else there: a dangerous rawness, a level of instability that could either burn bright or burn him out.

Rex doesn’t look like he’s expecting much from Cecil, and frankly, neither does Cecil. He’d heard the stories—about Rex’s explosiveness, his bravado, his complete lack of regard for authority. But Radcliffe’s absence has created a vacuum, and in the aftermath of that loss, this kid is one of the last things Cecil wanted to deal with.

Cecil keeps his expression unreadable as the agents leave, the door closing softly behind them. He leans back in his chair and eyes Rex coolly, giving him a once-over. The kid’s appearance isn’t exactly reassuring: his clothes are a mess, his stance is a bit too cocky, and the way he holds himself screams unreliable. He’s clearly used to doing things on his own—too used to it.

"Rex Sloan," Cecil starts, voice calm, yet there’s an edge of authority there. "I’m Director Cecil Stedman. I don’t have time for games, so let’s get right to it."

Rex doesn’t flinch. Instead, he tilts his head slightly, as if sizing Cecil up, and then shrugs his shoulders, letting out a sharp breath through his nose. “You the new boss then? Guess you’re stuck with me.”

Cecil’s lips twitch in a barely concealed frown. He’s heard that tone before—the I don’t care about you attitude, the sort of reckless bravado that usually gets people hurt. But this is different. This kid isn't just playing at being tough. There’s something deeper, something raw. This kid’s an explosion waiting to happen.

"I suppose so," Cecil replies evenly. “You’ve got a lot of... potential. And that’s the only reason you’re here. But I won’t waste time pretending this is a field trip for you. You’ve heard of the Global Defense Agency, yes? We have a different way of doing things here.”

Rex snorts, clearly uninterested. "I’ve heard about all the crazy experiments, all the weapons and whatever the hell else you guys get up to. Sounds more like a science project than a superhero gig."

There’s a flicker of something in Rex’s eyes—something more dangerous than just disrespect—and it catches Cecil off guard for a split second. The kid’s words are flippant, sure, but there’s an undercurrent of rage underneath them. It’s like he’s been used to being pushed, tested, and hurt in ways most people can’t even imagine. And now, he’s learned to cover it up with sarcasm and defiance.

“That may be true,” Cecil responds, not missing the challenge in Rex’s eyes. “But we don’t play here. We’re not just trying to save the world—we’re making sure it stays intact long enough to be saved. People like you are here for a reason, Rex. You’ve got power, but power’s nothing if you don’t know how to control it.”

Rex steps forward, arms crossed over his chest, leaning slightly against the desk in a casual but purposeful way. “Control, huh? What, you think I don’t know what I’m doing?”

There’s a sharpness in his voice now—a mix of pride and anger, like he’s been told too many times to control himself, and he’s just sick of hearing it.

“I think you don’t know what you’re doing,” Cecil replies, his voice still steady but carrying a weight behind it that Rex isn’t expecting. “I think you’ve got a lot of potential, but you’re flying blind. You’ve got explosive power, Rex. You can destroy things, but you have no idea how to make that work for you, for the greater good.”

The silence between them thickens, and for the first time, Cecil sees it—the briefest flicker of vulnerability behind Rex’s defiant mask. It’s gone almost as quickly as it appears, but it’s enough to make Cecil pause.

The kid has been damaged. And maybe Cecil’s starting to realize that he’s not just here to train him as an agent. This is bigger than that.

“I’ve been doing fine on my own,” Rex mutters, as if trying to convince himself more than Cecil. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“You’re right,” Cecil says, leaning forward slightly, eyes narrowing. “You don’t. But here’s the thing: you’ve been doing fine by accident. What you’ve done so far is survive. But survival isn’t enough. Not when the stakes are this high.”

Rex scoffs and starts to turn away, but Cecil’s next words stop him cold.

“We’re fighting more than just bad guys, Rex. We're fighting a war. And wars are won by those who can control their power, who can think, who know how to take a step back and evaluate the bigger picture. Not by people who just go off half-cocked and burn everything in sight.”

Rex halts, standing still for just a second. His back is turned to Cecil now, but there’s something different about the way he’s standing—something tentative. His shoulders aren’t as tense, his jaw isn’t as tight. There’s a crack in his armor, just enough for Cecil to see the real kid underneath the bravado.

“Sounds like you’ve got a plan,” Rex says quietly, voice lowered.

“I always have a plan,” Cecil replies, his voice steady but with a hint of something else—a glimmer of something that might be almost... compassion? He quickly suppresses it. “But it’s not about me, Rex. It’s about you. You’re here because Radcliffe saw potential in you. Now, it’s my job to make sure that potential doesn’t get you killed.”

Rex turns back toward him slowly, the defiance still there, but something else, too. Something like a flicker of respect.

“I don’t know about you, old man,” Rex says, his tone still a little rough, “but I’m not used to taking orders.”

Cecil chuckles dryly, standing up from the desk, his gaze still steady on the kid. “I’m not asking you to like it. But you will follow orders. You will learn to control that chaos inside you.

Rex glares at him, but it’s not the same as before. This time, there’s something like curiosity behind his eyes, like he’s wondering if Cecil really knows what he’s talking about.

Cecil watches him closely, and for the first time since Radcliffe’s death, he wonders if he’s up for the task of taming this wild thing.

One thing’s for sure: Rex Sloan isn’t going to be easy to deal with. But then again, maybe that’s exactly what Cecil needs right now.

The kid’s a challenge, sure. But maybe—just maybe—he could turn out to be more than just a loose cannon.

“Welcome to the GDA, Rex,” Cecil says, his voice quieter now. “Whether you like it or not, you’re here for the long haul.”

[12:27. Midday, one year later]

The room is quiet, but the air inside feels stifling. Above Cecil, the ceiling is decorated with clouds, trying to appear soft and comforting, but in reality, they only seem to emphasize the tension in the room. It’s not the place for a kid, especially not a kid like Rex Sloan.

Cecil sits behind a desk, his tired eyes scanning through reports of various world-ending threats. But all of it feels like background noise to him, because across from him, Rex—wearing a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants—sits on a chair, arms crossed, gaze stubbornly fixed on the ceiling, clearly doing his best to ignore the looming responsibility.

“Hey,” Cecil says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You need to stop calling me ‘old man,’ alright? I’m… well, I’m older than you, but it’s not like I’m that old.”

Rex doesn’t look at him, just mumbles under his breath, “Old man.”

Cecil sighs, setting down the report and leaning forward, both hands resting on the desk. His frustration is palpable, but he hides it behind his usual calm demeanor. “You’re going to have to start acting like you’re, you know, a little bit more mature. You’re a liability as much as you’re an asset, kid.”

Rex throws him a glance but doesn’t respond. He’s been through this speech more times than he can count.

“I’m not your damn babysitter,” Cecil mutters, leaning back in his chair. "But clearly, we don’t have a choice. You can’t be running around blowing things up—again. You’re staying here, and you’ll be doing what I tell you."

Rex rolls his eyes dramatically, the very picture of teenage rebellion. “Whatever, old man. I’m not some little kid. I don’t need a babysitter. I can handle myself.”

“Yeah, that’s worked out really well so far,” Cecil says with a dry chuckle, but he immediately regrets the tone. Rex’s eyes flash with something—anger? Maybe. A slight twitch of his lips betrays a trace of something else, too. Guilt? But he quickly masks it with his usual bravado.

“I’m not here because I want to be. But fine, if you wanna play the ‘parent’ card, go ahead,” Rex mutters, picking at the sleeve of his hoodie. “But you should know... I didn’t ask for any of this. Don’t think this means I’m gonna start acting like a little angel for you.”

The comment stings, but Cecil knows it’s true. Rex didn’t ask for this life. None of them did. It doesn’t make it any easier to deal with, but it does make it more understandable.

The silence stretches for a moment as Cecil searches for the right words. “I’m just trying to keep you from making the same mistakes. I’ve been around long enough to see the potential in people like you, Rex. You don’t have to be a screw-up. You don’t have to be a liability.”

Rex snorts, rolling his eyes again. “Oh, right. ‘Potential.’ You mean I’m just some project to you, don’t you?”

Cecil’s gaze sharpens, the faintest flicker of his old, colder self slipping through. “I’m trying to help you. You don’t have to like it. But you’re not getting rid of me that easily. And believe me, I’ve dealt with worse.”

There’s an uncomfortable pause. Rex stiffens, a flicker of vulnerability hidden behind his usual façade. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Instead, he reaches up to rub at his hair, trying to force the tension out of his body.

After a long moment, Rex mutters, almost to himself, “Yeah, well... It’s not like I asked for this either.”

Cecil doesn’t know how to respond to that. There’s nothing he can say to make it better, and he knows that. What he can do is keep trying—whether Rex wants it or not. He sighs, looking over the papers on his desk.

“Fine. You don’t have to like it. But you’re going to stick around here and stop causing more trouble. If you’re staying here, you might as well do something productive with your time. This isn’t a vacation, kid.”

Rex huffs, clearly not impressed. “Great. Just great. So what? I’m supposed to be the perfect little soldier now? Go be a hero? What’s next, you gonna start giving me daily drills?”

“Something like that,” Cecil says dryly. “You’ll start by training with the team. Maybe you’ll learn to control that temper of yours. Or maybe we’ll have to get another ‘lesson’ in how to deal with... things when they don’t go your way.”

Rex glares at him, but something about Cecil's steady gaze seems to take the wind out of his sails. He slouches back into the chair, arms crossed again. "Fine. Whatever. I'll... I'll play along. But if anyone else calls me a kid, I'm gonna explode on 'em."

“You’re already one step away from a temper tantrum as it is,” Cecil mutters, but there's a smirk on his lips as he stands up. "Now, come on. You're not getting out of this. There's work to be done, and you're not going to sit here all day pretending you're not a part of it."

As they walk out of the room, Cecil can’t help but glance over at the ceiling again. The clouds, he realizes, don’t do much to calm the storm swirling inside his head.

[00:00. Midnight, two days later]

The air is thick with the hum of machinery, the scent of sweat, and the metallic tang of combat. A large, industrial-style training room stretches before them, the floor covered in padded mats and several practice dummies set up at various points. The walls are lined with weapons, shields, and all manner of tools meant for battle.

Cecil stands in the middle of the room, arms folded, watching as Rex stands off to the side, an unimpressed look on his face. Rex’s hoodie is gone now, replaced by standard GDA training gear: a tight-fitting shirt and pants, the kind designed to maximize mobility and absorb sweat. But the outfit doesn’t seem to make him feel any less out of place.

The kid looks like he’s about to explode from the sheer indignity of it all.

"You want me to—what?" Rex asks, his voice a mix of disbelief and annoyance.

“Learn how to fight,” Cecil replies dryly, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yeah, no shit. But I already know how to fight. You’ve seen it.” Rex takes a step back, hands in his pockets. His stance is casual, too casual for someone about to engage in combat training, but it’s clear he’s doing it on purpose. He wants to act like he’s above it all.

Cecil steps forward, closer to Rex, his voice becoming sharper. “I’ve seen you blow things up. I’ve seen you get yourself into trouble. But what you haven’t learned—what you need to learn—is how to control it. You’re not a walking weapon, Rex. You’re supposed to be someone the GDA can rely on. That means discipline. Strategy. Knowing when to hold back.”

Rex scoffs, clearly not buying it. “Yeah, right. You’ve got to be kidding. I’m supposed to just... follow some rules? What’s next, you’re gonna have me recite the GDA Code or something?”

Cecil’s gaze hardens, but his voice doesn’t raise. Instead, it’s steady and measured. “You’re already dangerous, Rex. You’ve got skills. But you’ve been relying on instinct. That’s not enough when the stakes are higher. It’s not enough when you’re dealing with people who can kill you in a second. We’re not playing games here. You’re either going to learn how to fight smart, or you’re going to end up dead before you even see it coming.”

Rex bristles, but beneath the anger, there’s something else—a flicker of unease. “And what, you think you can teach me how to be some kind of... perfect soldier?” His voice cracks slightly, betraying his frustration. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to be part of the GDA. I didn’t ask for any of it.”

Cecil’s expression softens, just the faintest amount, before he answers. “No one asks for it, Rex. But here we are. And I’m not asking you to be perfect. I’m asking you to survive.”

The same dance, but fortunately, with time—Cecil’s patience had not easily waxed.

There’s a brief silence. Rex looks away, arms crossed tightly over his chest. Cecil can feel the tension in the air, the resistance that’s practically radiating off the kid. But beneath it all, he senses a flicker of something else. Rex doesn’t want to admit it—probably doesn’t even realize it himself—but he wants to learn. He wants to be better.

But he’s scared. Scared of losing the one thing that’s kept him in control—his raw, unrefined power.

“You’ll start simple,” Cecil says, breaking the silence. “We’ll work on the basics first. Reflexes. Timing. Accuracy. Then, we’ll build up to more advanced techniques. You’ll learn to fight with precision, not just anger. I know you’ve got it in you. But you’ve got to stop acting like you’ve already figured it all out.”

Rex glares at him, but Cecil sees the flicker of doubt in his eyes. “Fine,” Rex mutters, clearly not thrilled by the prospect of actually working on this. “But I’m not gonna be some kind of robot, alright?”

“Never said you had to be,” Cecil replies with a hint of amusement. “But you’ll learn that control is what separates the reckless from the deadly. The ones who survive—and the ones who don’t.”

Rex grumbles under his breath but steps onto the mats. Cecil gives him a knowing look.

“Alright, let’s start with something simple,” Cecil says, grabbing a set of training pads and slipping them onto his forearms. “I want you to throw a punch. Just one. Hit me as hard as you can.”

Rex scoffs again, but he moves into position, cracking his knuckles as if the entire situation is beneath him. He takes a few steps forward, shifting his weight onto his back leg, before launching a punch at Cecil’s side. It’s fast—too fast for someone his age, someone who hasn’t had proper training—but it lacks finesse, a lack of control that only comes from reckless abandon.

Cecil catches the punch with ease, his arm moving with trained precision. Rex is caught off guard for a moment, his eyes widening as Cecil effortlessly redirects the strike.

“Again,” Cecil says, his tone firm but not unkind.

Rex hesitates, then throws another punch—this time with more power, more commitment behind it. Cecil steps aside this time, his body moving fluidly as he avoids the blow. Rex stumbles slightly, but it’s clear the kid is starting to get frustrated.

“What’s wrong?” Cecil asks, his voice quiet, yet commanding. “You were faster last time. You had the edge. But now you’re second-guessing yourself.”

Rex doesn’t answer, only grits his teeth and tries again. And again. And again. His frustration mounts with each failed attempt, and Cecil watches, almost patiently, as the kid works through it.

After a few more attempts, Rex is breathing heavily, his muscles aching from the effort. He slouches back, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “This is bullshit,” he mutters under his breath.

“Control, Rex,” Cecil says, his voice low. “I’m not asking you to be perfect, but you can’t just throw yourself at me like that. Every time you act on pure instinct, you make yourself predictable. I need you to think, to anticipate what’s next.”

Rex scowls at him, but beneath the bravado, he looks like he’s starting to understand. “Whatever,” he mutters. “I’m not some damn soldier. I’m me. I don’t need to be what you want me to be.”

Cecil watches him closely, feeling that pang of something—whether it’s frustration, or maybe something deeper, something he can’t quite place. The kid is stubborn. But that’s exactly what makes him dangerous.

“You will be,” Cecil says quietly, more to himself than to Rex. "Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but you will be. And when the time comes, you’ll be ready. You’ll be deadlier than you ever thought possible."

Rex, still out of breath, raises an eyebrow. "Is that what this is all about? Making me deadlier?"

Cecil doesn’t respond right away, but the answer is in his eyes. It's the same as it always is. He wants Rex to survive. He wants him to learn to control it—control the chaos inside him, turn it into something that can make him stronger, more dangerous.

“Yeah, kid,” Cecil finally says, his voice low but firm. “Deadlier.”

And with that, Rex looks at him, an unreadable expression crossing his face. He’s not there yet—but for the first time, it seems like he’s starting to understand.

[7:15. Afternoon, five months later]

The low thrum of machinery and the crisp smell of sweat fill the air as Rex steps into the now familiar training room. The floor is a patchwork of padded mats, and the walls are cluttered with everything from training dummies to racks of weapons. The space feels almost like a second home to him now—a place he’s come to respect, despite how much he still fights against it.

Cecil is already there, standing at the center of the room, his arms folded and his expression impassive as usual. Rex, though, doesn’t feel the same resentment he did when he first started. The anger is still there, simmering under the surface, but it’s different now. He’s gotten better, stronger, faster—and, god help him, he might even be starting to enjoy it.

"Let’s go," Cecil calls out, his voice firm, but there’s a slight edge of warmth in it now. "I want to see where you’re at."

Rex gives a half-hearted roll of his eyes, but his movements are quick as he strips off his hoodie and grabs his training gear. He’s learned the drill—work through the basics, sharpen his reflexes, refine his timing. It’s all routine at this point. He falls into the flow almost without thinking, the patterns ingrained in his muscles.

He steps onto the mats, facing Cecil, and the usual spark of defiance flares in his chest. But beneath it, there's something else—a growing respect, whether he wants to admit it or not.

"Ready when you are," Rex mutters, cracking his neck and getting into his stance.

Cecil doesn’t waste time. “Let’s see that jab again.”

Rex narrows his eyes, trying to hide the flicker of hesitation. This isn’t the first time he’s been asked to throw a punch, but today something feels different. He moves, quick as a flash, aiming for Cecil’s shoulder.

Cecil catches it effortlessly, just like before, but there’s a subtle shift in his reaction. He doesn’t block the punch completely, instead guiding it away with a little more precision than he used to. Rex stumbles slightly, the impact still there, but it’s not the same. He’s not quite as off-balance anymore.

"Better," Cecil acknowledges, but his voice is as steady as ever. “Again.”

Rex’s jaw tightens as he resets, focusing this time. He throws another jab, and another, each time with more control. His form’s cleaner, sharper. His breathing is measured, his movements more fluid. There’s still frustration in his eyes, a reminder of how hard this all is for him. But he’s making progress.

By the end of the session, sweat is dripping down his face, and his muscles are sore, but Rex feels a sense of accomplishment. Cecil watches him, his gaze steady, but there’s a flicker of something almost proud there.

“Good,” Cecil says simply. “That’s enough for today.”

Rex stops, catching his breath, but there’s a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, whatever. Not bad for an old man.”

Cecil looks at him, arching an eyebrow. “Careful. You’re starting to sound like you actually know what you’re doing.”

Rex snorts but then, as if on some unspoken cue, he steps forward. “So, what’s next? Another round of your killer moves?”

Cecil gives him a look—a mix of exasperation and affection. “You’re not going to stop calling me that, are you?”

Rex shrugs, a half-grin forming on his face. “Nope.”

There’s a long pause before Cecil approaches him, his hand reaching up to ruffle Rex’s hair—an almost fatherly gesture that Rex still doesn’t quite know how to handle. He stands stiffly at first, caught off guard by the contact. But then... something shifts. The usual irritation that comes with any of Cecil’s affectionate gestures seems to fade, replaced with a subtle warmth.

It’s fleeting, gone as quickly as it came, but Rex’s shoulders relax, and his gaze drops just slightly. He doesn’t want to admit that it feels... good, but he can’t deny it. He’s gotten used to these moments, even when he pretends not to care.

Cecil steps back, as if he doesn’t even notice the effect his touch has had. “Good work today. You’re not there yet, but you’re getting closer.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rex mutters, trying to push the weird feeling aside. “I know.”

They fall into a comfortable silence for a moment, and for the first time in weeks, Rex doesn’t feel the overwhelming urge to argue, to push back against everything Cecil says. It’s not like he’s changed overnight. He’s still the same reckless, defiant kid, but... maybe things are a little different now.

And maybe, just maybe, he’s okay with that.

As he starts to walk off the mats to get a towel, Rex runs a hand through his hair—unconsciously pushing it back into place after the ruffling. He doesn't look back at Cecil, but the faintest smile lingers on his face. He won’t admit it aloud, not ever. But he doesn’t mind being here. Doesn’t mind being trained by the old man.

At least for now, Rex knows he’s starting to become something more than just the kid with raw power. Maybe that’s what Cecil’s been trying to teach him all along.

[3:00. Two years later]

Rex steps into the sleek, minimalist halls of the Pentagon with a quiet, almost silent swagger. His modified GDA stealth trooper uniform fits him like a second skin, the sleek black fabric marked by strategic touches that make it his own—small leather accents at the seams, an asymmetrical pattern, and, most notably, the faint design of a serpent along the edge of the collar. It’s subtle but unmistakably Rex. His skills have only sharpened, his combat abilities becoming a terrifying blend of lethal precision and relentless speed.

The mission was a success. Another underground villainous scientist brought to justice, his twisted experiments silenced for good. It had been routine, more or less. But the silence in Rex’s chest after the takedown—after the final blow—had been louder than anything. Maybe it was the thrill of the fight, maybe it was just the lingering weight of a job done, but Rex knows it won’t last. That gnawing emptiness always finds its way back.

He brushes past a few high-ranking officials in the hallway, earning a brief glance or two, but no one dares to question him. The GDA had made sure he was on their side long ago. Besides, they all know better than to try to approach someone who's been through the kinds of hell Rex has.

A few steps into the command center, Rex finds Donald waiting by the door—his usual self, clean-cut, perpetually calm, and dressed in his classic suit. Rex nods at him, acknowledging the presence of Cecil’s right-hand man with a rare semblance of ease.

"Mission complete?" Donald’s voice is steady, almost disinterested, but there’s always that little undertone of curiosity when it comes to Rex.

Rex gives a quick nod, his usual nonchalance masking the exhaustion starting to creep into his bones. “Yeah. Clean sweep. No issues.”

"Good," Donald says, his smile twitching only slightly. "We’ll debrief you in a bit. But you know the drill." He glances at Rex's uniform with an appraising look. "That one suits you. Fitting, considering how much you've grown."

Rex smirks, a flicker of satisfaction passing over his face. “Takes more than a couple years to keep up with me.”

Donald chuckles softly, then glances toward the corridor beyond. “Cecil’s waiting for you in the office. He's heard about your success. Go on in.”

Rex's smirk fades, and the silence between him and Donald is brief but telling. The old man. Cecil. It’s been two years since the first time Rex stepped into that training room, begrudgingly learning from him, and though Rex would never admit it outright, there’s something... different now. He’s learned to appreciate the man—more than that, maybe. In ways Rex doesn't fully understand. Maybe he doesn’t want to.

He pushes open the door to Cecil's office and steps inside without ceremony. The soft hum of fluorescent lights fills the quiet space, and Cecil looks up from his desk, his expression unchanging but the faintest hint of something softer in his eyes. His graying hair, now a little more pronounced, and the lines etched deeper into his face are reminders that the man who once ruffled Rex’s hair like it was nothing, who taught him everything from how to hold a gun to how to stay calm under fire, was only getting older. But today, Rex’s gaze lingers on those eyes—the eyes that have become a little less distant over time.

“Rex.” Cecil’s voice is steady, as always, but there’s something almost fatherly about the way he says his name. “I heard about the mission. Well done.”

Rex stands there for a moment, the weight of his success almost too much to carry in the quiet space. He shrugs, trying to downplay the whole thing. “Yeah, no big deal. Just another day.”

Cecil chuckles softly, looking down at his paperwork before leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Is that so? The last time you said that, you barely made it out in one piece. You’ve come a long way.”

Rex shifts on his feet, glancing at the floor for a moment. That nagging feeling in his chest returns—he doesn’t like how much it’s becoming a habit to come to this office, to face the quiet approval of the old man. But he doesn’t know how to walk away from it either. “Takes more than just some blood and sweat to take me down.”

“You’ve definitely proved that,” Cecil says with a nod. “But don’t let your pride get in the way of your progress. You’re still learning.”

Rex’s mouth twitches, resisting the urge to argue. “Yeah, yeah, I know the drill.” His tone softens slightly, a rare glimpse of the kid he used to be before all this training, before the missions, before the blood. “Do you ever get tired of this?”

Cecil’s expression doesn’t change, but his eyes flicker with something that Rex knows all too well—something that has been building between them, unspoken, for too long. “I never get tired of seeing you grow, Rex. You’re different now. Better. But the path ahead is long.”

Rex huffs, running a hand through his hair, only half-conscious of the fact that he's mirroring the gesture Cecil used to make when they were in the training room. “I’m getting there.”

Cecil rises from his chair, crossing the distance between them with ease. “Just keep moving forward. Keep learning. You’re more than just the kid you were when I first met you. You’ve proven that.”

Rex, unsure of how to respond, simply nods. The silence that follows feels strangely comfortable—like a bond that’s been forged in the fire of countless battles, both internal and external. He meets Cecil’s gaze briefly, the connection unspoken but undeniable.

Cecil doesn’t say anything more, but as Rex turns to leave, he stops in the doorway, his back still to Cecil. He feels the tension in his shoulders ease, the weight of the mission, of the job, starting to fade away.

“...Thanks,” Rex says under his breath.

Rex’s fingers lightly touch the door frame as he pauses, halfway out of the office. Cecil’s voice follows him, calm and commanding, breaking the silence that had been building between them.

“Rex.”

He turns back just enough to look over his shoulder, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face. Cecil’s hands rest on the edge of the desk, the old man leaning forward slightly with a subtle, concerned expression.

“You’ve been going hard for days now, nonstop. I know you like to push yourself, but you’re human, kid. You need rest,” Cecil says, his voice firm but not unkind.

Rex’s brow furrows slightly. "I’m fine. I can keep going."

Cecil stands up from behind his desk, his movements slow but purposeful. He’s always had a kind of calm authority, but there’s something deeper to it now, something that Rex can't ignore. The gentle way he places a hand on the back of his chair says everything—Cecil isn’t going to let this slide.

“You’ve been running yourself ragged.” Cecil’s gaze holds steady on Rex, sharp, but there’s an undercurrent of something softer in his eyes. “The mission’s over. For now, you’re off the clock. You need a break.”

Rex opens his mouth to protest, but Cecil raises a hand, silencing him with the simple weight of the command.

“I’m serious,” Cecil continues. “I don’t care how much you’ve been trained, how well-developed you are—your body needs time to recover. It’s not just about physical strength. It’s about your mind too. The constant grind will catch up with you, and when it does, it’ll be too late.”

For a long moment, Rex stands there, weighing the words in his head. He wants to argue, wants to keep pushing. It’s what he’s done for so long now—never stop, never let up. But something about the way Cecil is looking at him, the firm resolve in his stance, makes the argument die on his lips.

Rex’s shoulders drop slightly, his expression softening just the tiniest bit. “I don’t… really know what to do with myself, though,” he admits, almost as if the words are coming out before he can stop them.

Cecil's eyes soften, a glimmer of understanding flashing across his face. It’s a side of Rex he’s come to understand more and more over the years. The kid might be a trained weapon, capable of taking down anyone in his path, but he’s still figuring things out. Still finding his balance in a world that’s never quite stopped spinning since he was thrown into it.

“You don’t have to know what to do,” Cecil says, voice quieter now, almost like a father giving advice. “Just go. Take some time. Rest. Recharge. Do whatever you want. I don’t care. But you will take a break.”

Rex scoffs lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. It’s such a small gesture, but it’s one of those things that hints at the vulnerability beneath the hardened exterior. “Alright. Fine. You win.”

Cecil’s lips curl into a faint, knowing smile. “I’m not trying to win, Rex. I’m just looking out for you.”

Rex turns his head away, trying to hide the slight shift in his expression, the softening of his usual indifference. “Yeah, whatever.”

The silence stretches again, but this time it feels... lighter. More familiar, in a way.

As Rex makes his way toward the door, he pauses and glances back at Cecil—hesitant, unsure how to express the appreciation he feels for the man who’s practically become his anchor, despite all the things he refuses to acknowledge.

“Thanks... for... looking out for me,” Rex mutters, almost under his breath.

Cecil doesn’t say anything right away, but his gaze is warm, genuine. “Anytime, kid. Just don’t work yourself to death, alright?”

Rex nods, the smallest of smiles tugging at the corner of his mouth before he steps out into the hallway. It’s still a long way to go before he can figure out the rest of his life, the rest of who he is, but for now, he knows one thing: he has to listen to the old man. At least for today. And maybe that’s enough.

For the first time in a long while, Rex feels like maybe he’s earned a few hours to himself.

#invincible fanfiction #invincible fanfic #invincible show #invincible #cecil invincible #cecil stedman #invincible rex sloan #invincible rex splode #rex sloan #rex splode #invincible drabble #invincible au

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jesterfairy · 3 months ago

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.♠︎.💜𝐀 𝐏𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐈 𝐂𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭 💚.♠︎.

Chapter 5: The Edge of Oblivion

___. ♡ ✦ ♧━━━♢ ✦ ♠️ ✦ ♢━━━♧ ✦ ♡. ___

Chapter Word Count: 3,983

Fic Summary: Alina Vale dreams of escaping her dead-end life as a diner waitress, finding solace in painting Gotham’s haunting shadows. But when a routine trip to the bank turns into a living nightmare, she finds herself face-to-face with the Joker—a man as captivating as he is terrifying.

As his twisted games unravel her defenses, Alina is forced to confront the pull he has over her, a collision of fear and desire she can’t control. Trapped in his world of chaos and power, survival means facing not only him but the darker parts of herself he’s brought to life.

A story of obsession, control, and the intoxicating allure of letting go.

Genres: Dark romance, Gothic romance, Stalker romance

Pairings: TDK Joker x Female OC

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: non-con, extremely dubious consent, violence, psychological manipulation, kidnapping, stalking, slow-burn, toxic relationships, trauma bonding, childhood trauma, graphic sexual content, stockholm syndrome, dead dove do not eat

A/N: I think this chapter might be my favorite thing I’ve written so far. There’s just something so fascinating about the Joker’s dark charm and the way he exerts control—it honestly gave me chills while imagining it. I really hope you enjoy it too! 🖤

___. ♡ ✦ ♧━━━♢ ✦ ♠️ ✦ ♢━━━♧ ✦ ♡. ___

Chapter 5: The Edge of Oblivion

Alina stood by the window, staring out at the fading skyline of Gotham as the last traces of sunlight crept toward the horizon. Her hands rested on the cold glass, trembling slightly, but it wasn’t just the chill of the air that unsettled her—it was the weight of indecision that had lingered since the night she found the Joker’s mark on her canvas.

That night, she had spent hours pacing, his card clutched in her hand, torn between calling the police and staying silent. But in the end, no decision came. Exhaustion had taken over, and she’d drifted into uneasy dreams, still unsure of what to do.

Now, the morning after had slipped into late afternoon, and she was no closer to a solution. She could end this. She needed to. But every option felt wrong, like stepping off the edge of a cliff without knowing if there was solid ground below.

If she called the police and they couldn’t stop him, would he retaliate? But if she did nothing... was she just waiting for the inevitable?

What if this time, the Joker wasn’t just playing with her, but setting her up for something far more dangerous? And worse yet-- what if more people ended up hurt because of her?

She felt utterly helpless, trapped in the web he had spun around her—and so very alone.

Alone.

That word stung. It always had. Since her parents' accident, that’s how she’d felt—isolated, responsible, and now… now she would never forget the screeching tires, the crumpling metal, or the terrible silence that followed.

She swallowed hard, pressing her hand to her forehead. No. Not now. She couldn’t fall apart now. She had to keep it together. But the guilt gnawed at her, the same way it had gnawed at her all these years.

The same way her fear was gnawing at her now.

Her eyes fell on the small silver locket resting on her dresser. It had been a gift from her parents—the last Christmas before everything changed. Now, it was all she had left of them—a reminder of everything she had lost.

She picked it up and opened it, their loving faces staring back at her. A wave of sorrow crashed over her, heavy and relentless. If only she hadn’t pushed them, begged to go that night, made that decision... Maybe they’d still be here. Maybe she wouldn’t feel so helpless.

And now, here she was again—frozen in the face of another decision that felt just as life-altering, just as dangerous.

The locket clicked shut in her hand, the sound sharp in the quiet room. She closed her eyes, her breath shaky, before placing it around her neck. The cool metal settled below her collarbone, grounding her. But no amount of grounding could erase the tightness in her chest—the red grin on the canvas still mocked her, a reminder that even here, she wasn’t safe.

She needed to get out, to breathe, to escape the suffocating fear and indecision pressing down on her. Her sanctuary—it was all she had left. And today, her day off, was the perfect chance to retreat. No diner shifts, no Eddie lurking, just silence.

Leaving wasn’t just a retreat—it was a small act of defiance against the fear tightening its grip on her.

Grabbing her sketchbook, she stepped into a long, mauve skirt and combat boots, wrapping herself in her favorite cardigan as if the soft fabric could shield her. She released her messy bun, her long, wavy hair falling freely down her back like a quiet act of rebellion. But when her gaze flicked to the Joker’s grin one last time, her stomach churned.

This place wasn’t hers anymore. Not really.

...

Alina buttoned her coat and stepped outside, her fingers brushing the edges of the locket as she made her way to the subway. The bustling energy of Gotham surrounded her, but as the train carried her farther from downtown, the city’s pulse shifted. Sleek buildings gave way to crumbling warehouses and silent streets, the forgotten corners of Gotham unfolding before her like a shadowed memory.

Few ventured this far, and that was exactly what she liked. Here, in the decay of abandoned neighborhoods, she could breathe—she could escape.

When the train stopped, she walked toward the churchyard, her boots scuffing against cracked pavement as rusted fences and overgrown vines came into view.

She slipped through the gap in the worn iron gate, the creak of metal echoing softly. The graveyard lay in eerie silence as the approaching fog slithered in, curling around the graffitied gravestones like a veil. The weathered headstones stood like sentinels, their silent presence as familiar to her as her own reflection.

Here, Gotham’s usual din was muffled, a distant hum that didn’t quite reach this forgotten corner.

But tonight, the quiet felt wrong.

Alina's steps faltered as unease curled in her stomach. The usual calm she found here was absent, replaced by an oppressive tension she couldn’t shake. She tightened her grip on the locket around her neck, but the small, familiar weight offered little solace.

Still, she didn’t leave. The abandoned church had always been her refuge. Maybe inside, the weight pressing on her would ease—maybe it would feel better than out here. She needed that comfort now more than ever.

The church loomed ahead, its brick walls crumbling at the edges—barely a shadow of its former glory. Shattered windows lined the front, their jagged remains catching the last fading light of day like broken teeth.

She pushed open the heavy wooden door, which groaned in protest. Inside, the air was damp and stale, thick with mildew and dirt. The pews sat in disarray, buried beneath layers of dust and decay. Some were overturned, others splintered, long ago abandoned to ruin.

Ivy snaked through the cracked walls, clawing its way toward the ceiling in defiant bursts of green. It was a place caught between decay and resilience.

Her footsteps echoed softly against the dirt-covered floor as she moved down the aisle. She once found comfort in this brokenness, in the way it stood untouched by Gotham’s relentless march forward. But tonight, it felt like the walls were closing in, heavy with years of forgotten memories.

She couldn’t bare the suffocating unease. Pushing through a side door, she emerged back into the graveyard.

The cold air hit her like a jolt, sharp and biting against her skin.

The vacant city loomed just beyond the graveyard’s edges—darkened buildings casting long shadows over the small plot. Their empty windows watching her like hollow eyes.

She lowered herself onto the ground by an old headstone, her usual sketching spot, but everything felt wrong.

Nearby, an angel statue loomed, its once serene expression now contorted into silent judgment. Alina shifted uneasily beneath its shadowed gaze, a sharp pang of guilt tightening her chest.

The Joker had tainted everything.

Her fingers clasped the silver locket resting against her neck—the last tangible piece of her parents. Their faces flashed through her mind, vivid and aching. How she wished she could speak to them now, ask them what she should do—

Suddenly, a soft rustling cut through the silence.

Alina froze, her fingers clenching around her sketchbook.

Something had moved in the mist—just a flicker, barely there.

Her gaze darted across the graveyard, straining to see through the gathering mist.

But there was nothing. Only the murmur of the wind and the headstones disappearing into the approaching darkness.

She stood, her breath shallow and unsteady, her eyes scanning the shadows. The fog curled around the surrounding statues, transforming them into ghostly figures. Their presence, once grounding, now charged with unspoken foreboding, as though the graveyard itself had come alive to bear witness.

And then she saw it.

A figure, standing perfectly still in the shadows, half obscured by overgrown ivy and broken headstones.

The air around her seemed to chill as her eyes locked onto the intruder.

It was him.

The Joker.

He didn’t move. He didn’t need to. His silhouette lingered, his face barely touched by the dim light of the rising moon. That grin—jagged, fractured—gleamed beneath the shadows, flickering like a phantom in the mist.

For a heartbeat, Alina thought it couldn’t be real, that her mind was playing cruel tricks. But the icy dread twisting in her chest told her otherwise.

Her sanctuary—her last refuge—had been poisoned.

Every instinct screamed at her to run, to flee before it was too late. But she couldn’t move, her legs rooted to the ground as if the cold had frozen her in place.

Even in the shadows, his eyes flickered with something wild, something untamed, and despite the panic surging inside her, she couldn’t tear her gaze away.

A shiver ran through her, her pulse quickening as a strange, unwanted thrill threaded through the terror. It wasn’t attraction, not in any rational way. It was something darker, something that left her feeling raw and exposed. Vulnerable.

Her fingers instinctively found the knife in her coat pocket, trembling as she pulled it free.

The air between them felt alive, humming with a dangerous energy that made her veins buzz and her thoughts scatter.

Focus, Alina. Focus on the fear. Focus on him.

She tightened her grip on the knife, willing herself to remember who he was. What he was.

"Stay away from me," she said, her voice unsteady but edged with defiance. She raised the knife, her heart hammering so hard it felt as though it might burst. Useless against him, she knew. And yet, she clung to it as though it could keep the world from shattering.

The corners of his mouth twisted, stretching into something far more sinister. Then he laughed—low, throaty, unhinged. The sound rippled through the graveyard, bouncing off the gravestones—slicing through the frigid air.

“A knife?” His voice was dark, mocking, as he took a slow step forward. The shadows peeled away with each deliberate movement, revealing him in fragmented glimpses: the ragged stretch of his scars, the sharp glint of his teeth, the ghostly kiss of moonlight on his face. He looked like something unearthed from one of the graves at their feet—half man, half nightmare.

“You really think you have the stomach for that, doll?”

Alina said nothing, her fingers curling tighter around the knife. The sharp edge bit into her palm, grounding her as he advanced.

"What’s the plan, hmm?" His voice rasped low, though his amusement never wavered. "You’re gonna cut me? Make me bleed? Right here, in the middle of all these dead folks?" His gaze flicked over the tombstones surrounding them, a cruel smirk tugging at his lips. "I think they’d find that funny. I know I would.'”

He inched closer—too close. Her heart stuttered, each beat a frantic warning.

His eyes, dark and hungry, roamed over her with a wicked fascination that sent an unwanted flutter through her chest.

“But let’s be honest... a knife isn't really your style.” His voice slid into her veins like venom, each word cutting deeper than the last. “Too personal, too messy.”

Alina’s breath hitched. She didn’t move, but her chest tightened as she felt the blade grow heavier in her hand.

The fog swirled around them, wrapping tighter as the darkness crept in, and for a moment, he stood still.

Too still.

Then, his grin widened, slow and sharp, like he knew something she didn’t.

Suddenly, his hand darted into his coat. In an instant, a gun—dark, cold, and gleaming in the moonlight—appeared in his grasp. He twirled it lazily, like it was no more than a child’s toy. His face was eerily calm, his gaze pinning her in place.

“Here,” he whispered, his voice a mocking lullaby. “This is more your speed.”

He closed the gap between them and shoved the gun into her hands, forcing her to feel its weight.

Her knife slipped from her trembling grasp, but his hand shot out, catching it with chilling precision. Tucking it into his coat, he stepped back, leaving her holding the weapon—his eyes never leaving hers.

“No need to get your pretty little hands dirty,” he purred, his voice smooth as silk. “Just a little squeeze... and it’s all over. Easy, right?”

The gun felt impossibly heavy, as if the weight of the decision it carried had taken on physical form. Her throat tightened, every breath shallow, the air thick with dread.

Is he serious? What kind of sick game is this?

Her thoughts spiraled, panic swelling like a rising tide.

She willed herself to steady, but her fingers shook uncontrollably, betraying the terror coursing through her veins.

She despised it—hated that her fear was laid bare for him to savor. Mortification burned beneath her skin, hot and unrelenting.

He stepped back, his dark gaze smoldering with anticipation, like a hunter prolonging the inevitable.

“Go ahead,” he drawled, his voice quiet, deceptively smooth. “Pull the trigger. Think of all the suffering you'd be preventing.” His arms spread wide in mock surrender, the misty night swirling around him like a shroud.

“Be the hero.”

The words twisted inside her, seeping into her mind like poison. Her finger hovered over the trigger, her hands shaking so violently the gun felt as though it might slip from her grip.

“Come on, dollface,” he crooned, his scars stretching into something grotesque, his voice thick with teasing disdain. “What are you waiting for?”

Slowly, he advanced with unhurried steps and stopped before her, arms still outstretched and chest bared, his movements exuding a sinister satisfaction that made her skin crawl.

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, dark and controlled, cutting through the suffocating silence like a blade. His gaze remained locked onto hers, heavy with a power more dangerous than any weapon.

She could end this. She should end this.

But her hands remained frozen, the moment stretching unbearably, her resolve slipping further away with every passing second.

Defending herself was one thing. But he was—simply standing there...grinning.

Could she actually pull the trigger?

This felt too much like an execution—final, irreversible.

And he knew it.

The Joker’s smile faltered, the amusement in his eyes dimming as disappointment swept across his face like a shadow.

“What’s wrong?” His voice dipped, soft and venomous, the mockery laced with disdain. “Can’t do it?” He tsked, shaking his head slowly, the sound grating in the suffocating stillness. “Weak. Predictable. Just like the rest of them.”

She said nothing. She couldn’t. To speak—to give him anything—would be to lose. Her silence was all she had left, but it was enough.

He smiled. Not the wide, chaotic grin she expected, but something worse—smaller, sharper, like a blade slipping between her ribs. It cut deeper than his words ever could.

He moved closer, the air between them narrowing to nothing, his voice a dark rasp. “You’ve got a little defiant streak in you, don’t you?” His head tilted, his gaze creeping over her as though she were a mystery—one he couldn’t wait to unravel.

A dangerous light flickered in his eyes, wild and unhinged. “I like that.”

Alina’s heart thundered, each surge a frantic drumbeat. He was unbearably close, his presence overwhelming. But she held his gaze, refusing to look away. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her break.

His expression shifted, pupils dilating as he studied her like a predator sizing up its prey—no rush, no hesitation, only the certainty of the kill.

"I love that you’ve still got some fight left in you, doll," he murmured, his mouth curving into a slow, wicked smirk. He paused, dragging his tongue across his lower lip, his eyes never straying from hers. Each word dripped like thick honey, deliberate and unrelenting.

"It’s going to make breaking you... so much sweeter."

Alina’s stomach churned, but she forced herself not to flinch. Instead, her nails dug deeper into her palms, grounding her. She refused to look away, meeting his gaze with a determination that belied the quiver in her limbs. She wanted to spit something back at him, to break the silence he clearly relished, but her throat tightened, betraying her

"Ah, there it is—that quiet defiance." His voice dropped to a sinister whisper as he leaned towards her, the warmth of his body mingling with hers in the chilly air. “That’s what makes you interesting. You’ve got this...silent little flame inside you. Not loud. Not desperate. Just waiting to catch.” His eyes darkened. “And I’m going to enjoy watching it flicker, just before I snuff it out.”

His words sent a searing flash of dread through her chest, sinking deeper as his hand clamped around her wrist and yanked her sharply towards him.

The sudden closeness jolted through her like a live wire—his chest brushing against her breasts, his breath skimming her ear, warm and wrong.

A shiver raced down her spine, sharp with fear... and something else she couldn’t bear to examine.

“I’ve decided something” he said, his voice quiet, almost gentle, though his grip on her was iron. “You and me? We’re gonna spend some time together.”

She struggled against him, horror surging through her veins, but the Joker’s grip tightened. “This time, you don’t get to walk away.”

He leaned closer, the jagged edge of his scars grazing her ear, rough and unnervingly intimate against her skin. She froze, every nerve screaming to pull away, but his voice slid in, low and smooth, wrapping around her like a serpents hold.

“I wanna see what makes you tick, sweetheart,” he whispered.

Her pulse quickened, each frantic beat a betrayal. She should have felt only terror at his words—yet her heart raced, her skin prickling with an unwelcome awareness of his tall, solid frame pressing against hers, and the soft, warm brush of his breath grazing her neck.

What’s wrong with me? The thought cut through her, sharp and unforgiving

Her thoughts blurred, a suffocating mix of fear and something darker she couldn’t name. His scent—dangerous and uniquely his—coiled around her like a snare, tightening with every shallow breath she took. For a heartbeat, all she could feel was the oppressive heat of him, so close it stole the air from her lungs.

Her mind screamed at her to move, to tear herself away from this twisted proximity. But her body stayed frozen, every muscle betraying her.

Move, Alina. MOVE.

She sucked in a shaky breath, forcing her voice to rise over the chaos swirling inside her.

"Let me go!" she demanded, her tone sharp but trembling, as though it, too, was on the verge of breaking.

The Joker tilted his head, a cruel chuckle escaping his lips as he looked down at her, his eyes flickering with perverse delight.

“Let you go?” He whispered. His voice was low, mocking, as if the idea was laughable. “Oh, sweetheart... you’re not going anywhere.”

His grip on her wrist tightened, unyielding, as his other hand tilted her chin upward, forcing her to meet his gaze. His thumb lingered on her jawline, tracing it as if testing her limits.

“Do you feel that?” he murmured, his gloved fingers trailing down her neck. “Your pulse racing... your breath hitching...” His smirk deepened, predatory and sharp. “I think you like this. You’re just too scared to admit it.”

“Go to hell,” she hissed, her voice shaky but laced with as much venom as she could muster. She jerked against his grip, the movement weak and desperate, her eyes locked on his with a mix of fear and defiance.

But the Joker only laughed softly, the sinister glint in his eyes intensifying, as if her resistance only fueled him more.

“Hell, huh? You know a lot about that place, don’t you?” He said, the cruel intensity of his expression never wavering. “Sweetheart, you've been swimming in it long before I came along. Drowning in your own misery, pretending you're not already buried in darkness.”

He chuckled low, savoring the mixture of fear and defiance flickering in her eyes, his grip on her tightening just enough to remind her who was in control. “But here I am, offering you a way out. The question is—do you want it?”

She took a shaky breath, trying to summon some semblance of control.

"I don't want anything from you," she snapped, her eyes narrowing with as much conviction as she could manage, but the trembling in her hands betrayed her, every muscle coiled with fear, every nerve thrumming with something far more dangerous.

That pull—the one that had started in the bank, sizzled like a snare between them. It was stronger now, a growing shadow she couldn’t escape.

The Joker leaned in closer, his voice dark and filled with a sadistic satisfaction.

“You don’t want anything from me?” he mused, his tone soft and teasing, as if savoring the words. “That’s the funniest thing I've heard all day, dollface.”

He chuckled, his grin twisted into something darker. “You could’ve run, could’ve screamed, could’ve pulled that trigger. But you didn’t. You stayed. And you know why?”

He reached for her face, dragging his thumb against her cheek with a touch that was almost gentle, almost cruel. “Because deep down, you know I’m already under your skin. I’ve seen the cracks—the ones you work so hard to hide. And maybe... just maybe... you like that someone finally sees them.”

Her breath caught, the air around them thickening like a storm about to break. The weight of his words pressed into her, twisting with something sharp and unwanted. She couldn’t look away, the dark intensity of his gaze rooting her to the spot.

Then, without warning, he struck.

A cold, damp cloth smothered her mouth and nose, the sharp chemical sting flooding her senses.

Panic flared, white-hot and all-consuming. Her surroundings swirled, the edges of her vision distorting as her hands clawed frantically at his wrist. Her nails scraped against skin, but his grip was relentless, like a vice dragging her closer to the shadows.

Her strength ebbed, her limbs growing heavier with each passing second—every motion slower, like sinking into thick, unyielding quicksand.

The world tilted, spinning wildly, as darkness crept in at the edges. She was losing the battle to stay upright.

Her legs buckled, and just as she felt herself begin to fall, strong arms caught her, pulling her close.

This can't be happening—not now, not with him.

She willed herself to fight, to scream, to resist in any way she could, but her body betrayed her. Her lips parted in a feeble attempt to protest, but no sound came. She was fading fast, teetering on the edge of consciousness and oblivion.

A fleeting image of her parents’ faces flickered in her mind—their warmth, their smiles. The locket’s cold weight against her chest anchored her for one desperate second. But the memory dissolved too quickly, leaving her acutely aware of how alone she truly was… and utterly in his control.

Finally, her body collapsed against him, paralyzed, her breath shallow and ragged as the darkness closed in, threatening to consume her.

Through the haze, her vision swimming, she could see him—his wild, unrelenting eyes locked onto hers, watching with a dark fascination.

“Don’t fight it, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice soft and strangely tender as he gazed down at her face.

With unnerving care, he cradled her head, his touch disturbingly gentle—a chilling contrast to the violence he had just unleashed.

Her vision blurred, her senses dulling, as his fingers softy brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. It was wrong—deeply, unsettlingly wrong—yet there was something about his touch that was... reassuring, a dark comfort in this twisted moment.

A gentle laugh wove through her awareness, winding around her like a dark, soothing lullaby. The steady sound guided her deeper toward nothingness as the abyss grew closer.

And the last thing she saw—those eyes, watching her, unblinking, as she sank into oblivion.

___. ♡ ✦ ♧━━━♢ ✦ ♠️ ✦ ♢━━━♧ ✦ ♡. ___

A/N: Thank you so much for reading—I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'd love to hear your thoughts if you feel like sharing ☺️

Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist.

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@furisodespirit

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#A Poison I Can't Resist #joker fic #Joker fanfiction #heath ledger joker #Dark knight joker #dark romance #Toxic relationships #Gothic romance #Joker story

21 notes · View notes

ash-and-books · 3 months ago

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Rating: 5/5

Book Blurb:

“Loving a monster is madness; it is no easy task, and not as simple as just loving them. Loving a monster is to be consumed by them—pliant enough to weather the storm, and strong enough to fight back.”

Stetson

I am good at being alone—the best really. You don’t have to rely on anyone, don’t have to apologize when they feel like you’ve messed up, don’t have to forgive them when they inevitably let you down…being alone is better. But I’ve never really been completely alone; my demons keep me company in the darkest hours of the night. And even though I’m comfortable being alone, I also want to believe bad people get happy endings—the house, the horses, and the man waiting to tie me up when I misbehave. But now that I’m here, surrounded by the eerie silence of my family’s deserted ranch, with the weight of miles of fence to fix and the ghosts of my past lurking behind me at every turn, a happy ending feels farther away than ever. I need help, but where do I turn?

Augustus

I’m used to living in the shadows—the shadows of my older brother’s expectations, the shadows of my inner demons, and the shadows of her apartment building. But I’m tired of hiding. As a retired bronc rider, it’s time to start fresh and Moztecha, Texas feels like just the place to do that. Lucky for me, a desperate yet determined, blonde-haired vixen has a ranch that needs fixing up, and she just stumbled into my path at the local feed store. Just. Like. I. Planned. Every cell in my body screams at me to consume her, devour her, destroy her—and that’s exactly what I plan to do. I will gladly burn the world to ash if anything keeps me from her; that includes her own dark demons.

“It takes a monster to love a monster.”

As Stetson and Gus navigate the tiresome Texas heat and their explosive sexual tension, they must decide what secrets are worth keeping, and just how far they are willing to go to brand themselves on the other’s heart. With the odds stacked against them, and eyes watching their every move, a happy ending seems farther and farther away…like a fire flickering in the distance.

Will the flame in their hearts come together, or will the Texas heat burn them, and everything they love, alive?

Review:

From the moment he met her, he knew she was the one... now he'll do whatever it takes to become her perfect monster. Augustus is a bronc rider, he's famous, he's handsome... and from the moment he laid eyes on Stetson, he knew she was "the one" for him and that no one and nothing would ever compare. Augustus is at least 10 years older than Stetson and when he meets her he knows she isn't ready... but that doesn't mean he won't play the long game. All her life Stetson has been looked over, hated, and stepped on and when her parents' pass away and leave her with a farm that has been run down, she has to fix it... even if it means returning to the small town that hates her and is filled with horrible memories of the abuse her father had done to her. Stetson is not one to give up and she is determined to repair the cattle farm... despite the fact that no one can help her. Stetson also harbors a secret... her taste in romance is much much darker than anyone can ever know and she's never been able to find the perfect person...or monster to match her... until she hires the extremely handsome and grumpy Augustus to her farm... little does she know he's orchestrated it all and has been following her for 10 years, watching her, obsessing over her... and waiting to show her the depths of his monstrous love for her. Two people, so deeply entwined, and a twisted obsessive monstrous love that lies between them. Oh I absolutely LOVED this book!! It's so well written and the way to romance unfolds, between Augustus's past and Stetson's present, the way they are perfectly made for each other... Landyn Hill has perfectly captured the dark romance cowboy genre and I CAN'T WAIT FOR BOOK 2!!! I loved how much Augustus was obsessed with Stetson, just how far his love for her went, and I adored how Stetson was just as insane for him, that they perfectly knew each other. The story was absolutely engrossing and I am a complete fan of Landyn's now!! I WILL READ ANYTHING YOU WRITE!!!

Release Date: February 14, 2025

Publication/Blog: Ash and Books (ash-and-books.tumblr.com)

*Thanks Luna Literary for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

#Luna literary #dark cowboy romance #book review #bookish #for fillies and monsters

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transmechanicus · 2 years ago

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Ongoing/very recent apocalypse story where the protagonist only ends up finally leaving their house because they’re on a quest to get their package which is stranded one postal stop away, and all their interactions with people are singlemindedly in service to this goal.

#my stuff #writing #the world is burning but i’ve been waiting 5 years for this game so nothing will stop me from playing it #(and of course they finally get their game and return home only for the power to finally go out and maybe they’re ok with it due to Growth)#(or setup for sequel of trying to get power back on. there’s room for metaphors or literal depiction of depression n such)#(the whole I Just Need To Get Through This Week mindset that plagues me)

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heartblobs · 2 years ago

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Tag Game for Historical Simblrs! 📖

1. What has been your favorite time period to play in or which one are you most excited for?

Since I’m currently only in the early 1900s (in game), I’ll say which time period I’m looking forward to! It has to be, without a doubt, the 50s-70s. The fashion, the music, the art! It’s all just so- ugh. Y’know? I absolutely can’t wait for the hair and beautiful swing dresses!

2. Do you have a favorite piece of historical cc? (CAS or BB)

Oh god, do I have to pick just one? This is so hard 😭 This may be a little odd, but it could be this dress for toddlers/infants by vintagesimstress. It’s just so easy to pop that on a toddler when there’s so little historical cc for them, and much less for infants! It’s a godsend in my save.

3. Who is your favorite sim currently?

You all haven’t met them yet, but one of Walter and Eva’s children I’ve grown so attached to. They’re the absolute cutest and I really hope I can do their story justice!

4. What is your favorite world?

Glimmerbrook! I love the woods and the river that runs through the tiny, little world. Plus, the aesthetics of the spellcasters is just gorgeous. Close second would have to be Forgotten Hollow, which is a shame because I don’t know if I’ll ever have my historical sims live in either of those worlds. 😓

5. Are you more gameplay or story focused?

Hm, honestly I’m not sure. I try my best to balance out both so I don’t burn myself out, so I’d have to say I’m both!

6. Do you like to play with pets in your historical saves?

I try to, but honestly they’re so annoying to deal with. 😭 I really don’t like Sims 4 pets, which is a shame because I love pets in the previous Sims games. Pets, if I ever incorporate them in the story, will be for story purposes only!! 😅

7. What’s your biggest immersion breaking pet peeve with the game?

NPCs who are dressed in jeans and a tshirt! I am so grateful for the NPC overrides by cowplant-snacks. Am I gonna suffer once long skirts are out of fashion? Yes. But for now I am happy with my lil victorian mailmen strolling around my game 😌

8. What’s your favorite in-game historical item? (CAS or BB)

The entire Vampires gamepack catalog. I use those items for nearly every build for the time period I’m planning in, and they’re all just so pretty. Maybe excluding the coffins.

9. What would you like to see as a new pack or asset to the game?

I’d like more things for children to do! And I don’t mean another activity table. Although Growing Together did help with that, I still struggle with things children and toddlers can actively do. I rely on mods to sometimes send them to rabbithole activities because I just have nothing for them to do once they max out their childhood skills. So yeah! Maybe like, an arcade pack or something?

10. What pack do you think is invaluable as a historical simmer?

Cottage Livings, hands down. In those earlier years, if you don’t want to play as an already richer family, playing as a simple farmer is not only fun but realistic! I have another historical save that I play from time to time just for myself, and my family starts out farming and having chickens and cows and it’s all just so fun!

11. Do you have a favorite mod to enhance historical gameplay?

There’s so many, but I highly recommend the Phone to Notebook Replacement Mod by ayoshi. For some reason, mods that are supposed to make Sims not pull out their phone ever two minutes just don’t work in my game, so this mod just allows them to continue to be obsessed with their phones, they’re just now little notebooks! No time travellers in my game.

12. What’s your ideal family size for playing?

For strictly gameplay, I usually prefer families about 3-4 in size. The Baudelaires will eventually grow to 7 in total, which is a lot of Sims for me, but I’m excited to have the challenge!

13. Do you use poses?

🧍‍♀️

14. Do you use any overrides in your game?

Oh my god, yes. I have so many, from eye overrides to cloud overrides. Also, just the few I’ve listed here, just help so much with immersion! I couldn’t play this game without them.

15. Do you, or did you, play off-the-grid during your game?

I really tried to at first, there are just not a lot of necessities that actually WORK off the grid, cc or otherwise. So I just replaced everything I could with older looking electronics. Although, I really wanted the lighting from the candles. Yes, it’s bad at times, but I like it for some odd reason.

16. What lifespan do you play on?

Long/custom lifespan settings! Since every four days is equal to one year in my game, I tried to reflect that in the lifespans.

17. What inspired you to start playing a historically?

I’m almost positive it was the amazing Pixelnrd. I actually started this blog as a royal simblr! I was scrolling around on Tumblr and found Pixelnrd’s blog and that was that. I’ve always loved history and once I found this challenge, I fell in love with the idea of it!

Thank you so much for tagging me @aheathen-conceivably! <3 I’ll tag @0-nouke-0 @carousel-of-sims @sasaofastora @antiquepixels @cattermelons & anyone else who’d like to do this!

#ask game

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joshslater · 4 years ago

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Cross Contamination

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

I'm fucking furious. To most people Jack Wilson is a hockey hotshot, but to me he is just my wife's ex that can't let go. She said they had another encounter, but wouldn't go into details, saying it wasn't just his fault. She couldn't help herself, she said. Knowing how much she loathes him I suspect she was afraid of him turning violent. He is a star athlete after all, known to have punched more than a few players on the ice.

I know he's training at the stadium right now. That's how bad it has gotten, that I even know his schedule. I'm probably speeding getting there, but nothing else is important right now. I park the car in the huge, but almost empty parking. Neverending slabs of concrete to allow for the cars of thousands of cheering fans during game day. Well, I'm certainly not a fan. Still fuming as I exit the car and heading towards the arena I see him and a few others from his team running towards the same building from across the car park. They must be out for cardio or something. I stop and shout towards them "Hey! Jack!"

I can see them slow down a little, Jack saying something to them, and then breaking apart jogging in my direction while they continue at speed towards the stadium building. I remain still, just glaring at him as he closes in on me. He slows down quite a bit away and saunters towards me, still panting. He has an aura of smug superiority. He's good looking, despite his matted, sweaty hair and week-old beard. It's not just because he's in top shape, but he has that classic athlete chin cut, and mesmerizing eyes to go with it too. He's quite a bit shorter than me, and way denser and muscled, but I would bet my weekly martial arts practice can match him if needed. "Hey, cocksucker! You managed to find your way here," he yells back at me.

"I want you to know..." "Shut up"

I don't know why, but I can't look away from his intense eyes. It's like they can see into me, see every part of me. I'm frozen in place just watching him getting closer. "I said hey cocksucker. What are you waiting for? Go ahead and suck my cock." He says this as calmly as he can, never breaking eye contact. I don't think he blinks. I don't think I blink. I slowly go down on my knees, grabbing the hem of his sweatpants, and pull down. I still keep eye contact, so I have to feel my way for the waistband of his underwear to pull it down too. I can feel the heat radiate from his steaming body. There's a smell of sweat, not the stale, musky kind, but from someone who showers every day and uses fresh clothes for each workout. He's professional and they got staff. I can hear his heavy breath as he is still recovering from the sprint. And I can feel a rather large cock in front of me that is erect, or at least a good way there. I grab it in my hands and guide the tip to my lips and begin to lick it. It doesn't really taste of much. I open my mouth and get more and more of his compression shirt wrapped abs and pecs in my view as I stare into his deep eyes, and take his big cock deeper and deeper into my mouth.

The tip reaches some point at the back of my mouth and I start to gag, making horrendous gurgling noises. I move back from him. "All the way. I want to be balls deep down your throat, cocksucker." I do as he commands, and push it in again, further. It's somehow much easier this time and my lips are tickled by his moist bush of pubes. I then start to work it, in and out, in and out. The noise I'm making is still horrendous. A wet, sloshy sound, and I hate it. "Yeah, you like that, cocksucker. Now, faster." I grab him by the hip and increase the pace. I get lost in the actions, like nothing matters but his cock, the noise, and his eyes.

I don't know for how long I was in a trance, but I feel him tensing up, pulling me tight to him, and shooting a big load of his cum down my throat. Suddenly the gaze that had held me like a vice breaks and he looks at my face rather than into my eyes. The spell is broken. I'm kneeling in a parking lot with Jack Wilson's cock down my throat, and my nose nuzzled into his pubes. His eyes suddenly widen, and his face turns into horror, like he is looking at a monster. Everything is going like in slow motion. I begin to push him away, to get his disgusting cock out of my mouth as he shoots his second load. Somehow in shock I manage to breathe in his cum. He pulls away from me as well, and his third load ends up just next to me on the concrete. "Fuck!" he says, visibly upset. "It's still in the bloodstream. Spit it out! Spit it out!"

I'm not sure I even have any in my mouth to spit out. It just went straight into my belly and into my lungs. Lungs that are desperately trying to cough up his spunky goo in phlegm-filled, deep whoops. "Fuck!" he shouts one last time, pulls up his sweatpants, and runs towards the Stadium building with one hand holding the pants up. I'm just folded over on my knees coughing and coughing while my mind is racing to make sense of what just happened. My chest is burning and I feel nauseated. There is the salty, bitter taste of cum in my mouth and a stench of athlete sweat as I gasp for air in between the coughs. I keep coughing, but less and less of substance is coming up. I spit out specks of Jack's spunk on the concrete in front of me, and realize what she had meant when she said she couldn't help herself. Did he fuck her? After what just happened I wouldn't put anything past Jack, and there is literally nothing I wouldn't forgive her for having done. She would have been helpless to stop.

I can feel my whole body burning as I get up from the concrete. I'm very aware how my clothes rubs against my body, like my senses have just gone into overdrive. Everything, every single muscle in my body feels sore. My head is spinning. Still coughing I stagger towards my car and get in behind the wheels. As I close the door the world goes silent. I can only hear my own exhausted panting. I'm confused about what is happening and feel sick as shit, but at least the world isn't spinning anymore. Somehow I must have been poisoned. What did he mean with "in the bloodstream?"

I start the car and carefully drive from the parking lot and out in the direction of home. Perhaps I shouldn't be driving at all. Crashing while driving is worse than crashing while sitting in a parking lot, but I really don't want to have to call anyone for help. Not after what I've just been through. I so sympathize with the movie cliché of a girl sobbing in the shower. I only want to cleanse myself in any way possible. To get rid of Jack from me. Even now I can feel the smell of athletic sweat, like it was clinging on to me.

There is a big pop accompanied by one of the chest buttons on my shirt shooting off in the car. The pop isn't so much heard as felt, as a reverberation in my body like someone just punched me in the chest, with dull spikes of pain in the joints. I swerve dangerously close to the side of the road. It feels like my shoulders pops into their sockets, like my chest just suddenly expands and the rest of my body catches up. There is no mirror I can look in, but I can clearly see something is off just by looking down at my body. What little movement I can make while driving the car feels different.

There is another big shift. Knees and hip joints this time, I think. I'm a little more prepared to handle that one without swerving, but this time I'm instead missing the brake pedal like the seat is set wrong. I scoot forward on the seat and reach the pedal. Now I'm getting real nervous what is happening. I'm almost home though, but I can feel my thigh muscles involuntarily flexing, my feet are hurting, and my stomach is gurgling like bad plumbing.

Her car is not home yet, thank God. I park mine as calmly as I can, screaming inside that I need to get inside and see what the fuck is going on. As I step out of the car I get a first inkling about the enormity of the changes. I almost trip stepping out of the car, and sit down again on the edge of the seat. The fabric on the trousers are straining, and I realize that my feet are probably hurting because they have swollen up inside the shoes. I try to kick off one of the sneakers, but it's stuck enough that I have to untie them. My movements feel off. It's not that it is hard to move. The opposite in fact, but different somehow. Me feet thanks me in relief as they are freed,

With the shoes off I awkwardly make my way into the house and step into the nearest bathroom. It's me in the mirror, of course, but me 5-10 years younger. I'm touching my face in disbelief. But this isn't just me regressed a decade in time. I was way taller than this then. Curious I unbutton the remaining buttons on my shirt and throw it on the floor. The chest and abs are not me 5-10 years ago. I've never looked this buff before. For one I've never had washboard abs, and the pecs and shoulders are wide and meaty. The arms more slender, though still muscular, and the core is built more for function than aesthetics. A bit too dense for the show off V shape. Dense, with a low center of gravity.

It's the body of a hockey player.

I rip off the straining trousers and the socks. Sure enough, massive leg muscles, big thighs, big ass, big feet. Jack the fucking cheater is a fraud in all areas. Whatever the fuck he is taking must have concentrated in his balls, shot into my lungs, and from there gone straight into my bloodstream to do whatever the fuck it's done to me. And there is nothing I can do to hurt him with it. Who would believe me? This is so far from any science I've heard of.

I take a closer look in the mirror again. Perhaps it isn't all bad after all.

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just-dreaming-marvel · 4 years ago

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It’s Always Been You ~ 143

OUT OF TIME MASTERLIST

IT’S ALWAYS BEEN YOU MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 3,600ish

Summary: Surprisingly, more secrets come out. A final plan is formed.

Notes: Please read the ending note. You must read Out Of Time in order to understand this. The chapter numbers continue from Out Of Time. (gifs aren’t mine)

“She’s not the only one whose kept secrets, Steve,” Natasha said, once Y/N was clearly gone. “We all have.”

“This is different,” Steve argued, mad. “This has to do with half the universe turning into dust and the man who did it. She should have told us so that we could have—“

“Done what, Steve?!” Tony retorted. “Spent the past five years planning and waiting for something to happen?! That’s not a way to live! I know that because I’ve lived that! I’ve tried to do that!” Tony took a deep breath, trying to calm himself as he backed away from everyone. “I may be the only one who feels this way, but I wouldn’t change the last five years. Yes, I miss people terribly and feel the guilt of what happened constantly. But I finally have the family I’ve always longed for. I have a daughter who is my whole world, and a wife who fights for what she loves.”

“Her telling us everything wouldn’t have changed when Scott came back or when I put the pieces together about time travel,” Tony continued. “Keeping that a secret didn’t change anything.”

“Tony’s right,” Clint spoke up. “It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

Tony and Clint nodded at each other. Tony knew it had to be hard for Clint to admit that, especially since he had lost his whole family. Steve clenched his jaw, frustrated.

“Steve,” Natasha called calmly, “have you ever thought about how many times you get angry at Y/N for keeping things from you?”

“I don’t understand what that has to do with anything,” Steve said.

“You freak and turn around and blame everything on her. Maybe she doesn’t tell you things because she knows that you won’t react in the best way. And you doubt her, so much.”

“How is this now about me?”

“I’m sorry, isn’t everything?” Tony retorted. The two men glared at each other in silence for a moment, the tension getting thick. “I’m going to go check on my wife.”

~~~

“Hey Pepper,” Y/N greeted, video calling her friend.

“Hey Y/N,” Pepper replied.

“Is Morgan up?”

“I’m sorry, I put her to bed already.”

“That’s okay.”

“Is something wrong though? You seem a little down.”

“I just… can you poke me in there for a second? I just need to see her.”

“Of course.” Pepper began heading to Morgan’s room. “She really misses you guys.”

“We miss her too.”

Pepper quietly opened Morgan’s door and reached her hand in so that Y/N could see the little girl on the phone. Morgan was sound asleep, clinging onto the Iron Man stuffy that Tony had bought her. Y/N’s eyes slowly filled with tears as she longed to hold her child.

“Thank you, Pep,” Y/N said softly.

“Of course,” the woman replied.

“Tell her we’ll call her tomorrow. And that we love her.”

“Y/N, what’s up?”

“This is all just getting more real. And I don’t want something to happen with Morgan knowing her parents love her.”

“Nothing’s going to happen. You and Tony are going to be fine.”

Y/N gave her friend a tight lipped smile, clearly not believable. “Thanks for taking care of her for us, Pep. Good night.”

Y/N sighed after hanging up, leaning back against the headboard. She closed her eyes and sucked in her lips. She had never missed her abilities more in the last five years, then at this very moment. She wished she could simply portal herself home, to hold her child. But Y/N couldn’t, and she knew she needed to stay at the compound and finish out the mission. No matter the cost.

“Are you okay?” Tony’s voice was quiet as he leaned in the doorway, worried eyes raking over his wife.

“I’m fine,” she answered, not bothering to open her eyes.

Tony sighed before he walked over and sat himself on the bed. He made sure he wasn’t touching her, not wanting to press. “I let Steve have it after you left. It wasn’t right for him to do that. Red even had my back.” Y/N didn’t respond. “Honey… I’m sorry.” He set a comforting hand on her leg. “I know that I’ve pushed you in the past for not saying anything. But I’m beginning to see the weight that the Stones have placed on you. I’m so sorry.”

“He will never understand,” Y/N breathed out quietly. “He hasn’t been able to since he came out of the ice… I lived 5 years with believing he was dead. I changed in that time and he has never been able to accept that… but doesn’t make it hurt any less. He’s still my twin…” Y/N finally opened her eyes and met Tony’s. She reached out and took his hand from her leg. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For standing with me.”

“I made vows to do so. I never intend on breaking them.”

She pulled him closer to her. She wrapped herself around him, earning a light chuckle.

“Can we stay like this the rest of the night?” She whispered.

“Of course,” Tony answered, kissing her hairline. “We can stay like this as long as you like.”

~~~

In the morning, the couple ate breakfast in bed before venturing out to face the rest of the group. Everyone was seemingly trying to act normal, but Steve. Every time he glanced Y/N’s way, it was harsh. Cold and unforgiving. Tony kept himself at Y/N’s side as the group began going over the Tesseract.

“Our first major run in with the Tesseract, or Space Stone, was back in the 40’s,” Steve explained. He was standing in front of everyone, pictures, videos and information were playing on the screens behind him. “HYDRA’s then leader, Red Skull, was using it to create mass energy weapons. Y/N and I were on Red Skull’s plane when it took off to bomb major cities around the world.” Steve looked at Y/N. “Would you like to tell the rest of it?”

She pursed her lips, trying to keep her emotions in check. “Sure.” She stood up and went to the front of the room. “As Steve said, we were in the ship. I was trying to get to the controls and the Tesseract, when it could knocked loose. It portaled Red Skull away. I…” Y/N paused with a sigh. She hadn’t recounted this story since she woke up. “I grabbed the cube as it fell, burning my hand. Dropping it, it burned a hole in the floor causing both myself and the cube to fall. I grabbed onto it as a fell…” Y/N looked down at her scarred hand, rubbing it nervously. “Howard Stark later found it in his search for Steve and I.”

“After that, it was in SHIELD’s hands,” Y/N continued. “And, from what Carol has added to the record, a scientist who was trying to save the Skrull species. From their Fury began tests on it and began making weapons of his own. That’s how the Battle of New York started… Being control by the Mind Stone himself, Loki came and took the Tesseract. He used it to open a giant portal, letting the Chitauri army through.”

More video footage began being played of that day behind her. The all watched, with those who were there remembering the day like it was yesterday.

“How long did you fight these guys?” Rocket asked.

“About, uh, two or three hours,” Natasha responded. She looked at Tony who nodded along in agreement.

“The Chitauri are the suckiest army in the galaxy. Why didn’t you just blow up the mothership?”

“We didn’t know that was a thing,” Steve said.

“You didn’t know that was a thing?” Rocket laughed. Tony stood up from his seat, shaver in hand. (He was shaving as he was listening.) He went up behind Rocket and shaved some of his hair on top of his head. “Everyone knows— Hey!”

“There we go,” Tony said. “All better.”

“Tony was the one to send the missile up through the portal, successfully destroying the mother ship,” Y/N explained. “I closed the portal.” She looked at Tony, who met her eyes. “Luckily, we all came out of it alive.”

“Not all of us,” Clint commented. “We lost a good one that day. Phil Coulson.”

“Yeah… about that… Fury actually brought him back to life.”

“What?!” Natasha, Clint, Thor, and Steve exclaimed. The four quickly noticed at Bruce and Tony weren’t phased.

“Did you two know about this?” Natasha asked.

“Yes,” Bruce answered, “but only because it was vital. We were helping Skye—“

“Daisy,” Tony and Y/N corrected together.

“—and Y/N with their new found powers. Phil was a big part in that.”

“Those missions… that base you would talk about… SHIELD suddenly resurfacing,” Steve mumbled, putting the pieces together. “You leaving to save your Team… You kept SHIELD and Coulson alive, right under our noses.”

“Again, I was only doing what was right,” Y/N defended herself. “We saved the world countless more times than anyone even realized, including the other heroes in this room…. Coulson’s team is the reason we found Loki’s scepter. And in Sokovia, the helicarrier Fury brought was from Coulson. He had found it and patched it back together.”

“Sif,” Thor whispered. “She was so very vague about the two times she was down here.”

“She was keeping the secret. If people knew that Coulson was alive, it would have changed the game.”

“How did he survive?” Natasha asked.

“It was called the TAHITI Program. Fury directed Coulson to head it. It was meant for a fall of an Avenger. To bring them back if anything were to happen in battle. After years of trials, it was disbanded. The side affects were awful… but then Coulson died. And Fury couldn’t accept that.”

“Who else knew?” Steve asked.

“Besides Fury, Tony, Bruce, Sif, and myself, Maria Hill, our SHIELD teams, and many government officials worldwide. Including President Ellis.”

Steve scoffed. “All the secrets,” he muttered, shaking his head. “This is getting ridiculous.”

“Where is Phil now?” Natasha asked. “Did he survive?”

“He died right before the Blip,” Y/N answered. “Complications from the TAHITI Program and other things that had happened… Please don’t be angry. I understand that it seems like I’ve kept some big things from everyone. But you have to try and understand it from my point of view.”

Everyone was silent, not knowing what to say. Y/N stood in the front of the room, preparing for the attack on her. But it never came. Steve stormed out and the others from the original team followed, including Tony and Bruce. Y/N closed her eyes, trying to keep herself calm.

“I know that I’m new here and don’t know much,” Scott said, standing up to go to Y/N. “But I know that you have a good heart. And that you were only trying to protect everyone.”

She looked at him with a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you, Scott.”

~~~

“It’s just one thing after another with her!” Steve exclaimed. “Is everything a lie? It’s like I don’t even know who she is anymore!”

“Steve, I think we need to stay calm and look at this from her said,” Natasha said. “She has been trying to protect everyone, except herself. The whole time she was going from fight to fight without much of a break.”

“It’s true,” Tony agreed. “I personally witnessed the wear and tear it did to her.”

“When she got shot after SHIELD fell, was that because of Coulson?” Steve asked, marching up to Tony.

“It wasn’t because of Coulson. It was because someone on her team ended up being HYDRA.”

Steve ran a hand down her face. “I don’t know where the lies stop and the truth begins.”

“She never actually lied to you,” Natasha brought up. “She told you what she could and kept the rest to herself. To protect everyone.”

“She still should have told us about Coulson,” Clint spoke up. “He was important to all of us.”

“Coulson and Fury specifically instructed her that the team not know,” Tony explained. “She actually got in trouble for telling me and Bruce.”

“But again we had to know,” Bruce said. “Y/N and Skye—“

“Daisy.”

“—had suddenly gained powers. If anyone was going to be able to help them, it was going to be us.”

“I need some time to think,” Steve said, walking away.

“We really shouldn’t be focusing on this right now,” Bruce sighed, shaking his head. “We should be focusing on the Stones. What Y/N kept from us is not the priority.”

“As long as she tells us any other information that could be of use to us,” Natasha said.

“She will,” Tony promised.

“I can’t imagine she’s taking this well,” Clint mentioned.

“She’s not really showing very much, trying to keep it all in. But I don’t blame her. Steve’s been going after her since he got out of the ice.”

“It’s hurting both of them,” Natasha said. “It’s like they want it to be how is was before the ice. Yet, they both have changed.”

“I don’t think Steve’s willing to see it the most,” Bruce added. “It’s going to tear them apart when we need them to work together the most right now.”

“Together, they can be one of the best teams.”

Tony sighed. “Let’s finish getting the information on the Stones. Then we can worry about the rest of it.”

~~~

They all gathered back together to go over more about the Stones. They finished all the new on the Tesseract and Space Stone before moving to the Mind Stone. It was hard to talk about that one, since Vision was a big part of it.

“Where’s Vision now?” Scott asked.

“We brought him back to the Compound, but the Accords and his own will forced us to give his body to an organization called SWORD,” Natasha explained. “They were forced to dismantle him because of the Accords.”

“We were too late in getting him to Wakanda,” Bruce explained. “So there was no way to bring him back without the Stone.”

“Hopefully that the only permanent casualty we take from all this,” Tony commented, bringing Y/N closer to his side.

“That wasn’t the only life lost,” Nebula said. “My sister, Gamora, she died too.”

They took on the Soul Stone next. There was very little information on it besides what Y/N and Nebula knew.

“Thanos found the Soul Stone on Vormir,” Nebula explained.

“What is Vormir?” Natasha asked, taking notes.

“A dominion of death, at the very center of Celestial existence. It’s where… Thanos murdered my sister.”

Everyone sat there awkwardly, and saddened. Not knowing what to say or do.

“Not it,” Scott said, breaking the awkward silence.

“Y/N,” Steve called, in this stern Captain voice. “Do you know anything about the Soul Stone that could possibly help us?”

“I know that it is a very power Stone in its own right. With it I was able to conjure the spiritual representation of those who are dead.”

“What?” A few gasped. Tony reached over and grabbed her hand.

“I saw…” She paused, swallowing her emotions down. “I saw my unborn son, AJ, my parents, and Phil Coulson.”

“Our parents?” Steve questioned. Y/N responded with a simple nod. “How could you not tell me?”

“At the time we weren’t talking, and it never came up later.”

“I can’t—“

“Guys,” Natasha stood up in the middle, placing herself between the siblings. “Stop fighting. We have something bigger we need to focus on, and if you can’t see that you both can leave.”

“I’m not the one with the problem,” Steve growled.

Holding the tip of her tongue between her teeth, she silently watched Steve. She was trying to put her thoughts together when Tony decided to speak up.

“Seriously, Rogers, cut the bullshit,” Tony said. “I get you’re probably hurt that she never told you anything. But that doesn’t give you the right to make her your personal emotional punching bag. Crap happened and she didn’t tell you, but she’s telling you now.”

“You know…” Y/N began slowly. “I miss the days when it was you, Bucky, and I against the world. Just like you do. The days you trusted me and didn’t doubt me, no matter what… you blame this all on me, Steve? Fine! But communication is a two way street. Just remember that. I’m not the only one that’s kept secrets. Like the one about Howard and Bucky.” That left Steve silent. “I’ll be in the other room, trying to put a plan together if anyone needs me.” She left.

“Go work out some energy, Steve,” Natasha suggested. “We’ll take it from here.”

~~~

Tony found Y/N laying on a table with FRIDAY talking to her about the Time Stone.

“Mute,” Tony ordered, coming into the room.

“If you’re here to talk about Steve, I’m not listening,” Y/N responded, looking at the ceiling.

“I figured. That’s why I came to join you and help.” Tony leaned over Y/N and gently kissed her.

“Uh, guys,” Bruce broke in before the couple could get heated. They turned to see Bruce and Nat standing in the doorway. “We just came to see if you needed any help. Everyone else needed a break.”

“Help would be great,” Y/N responded.

Tony crawled up onto the table, sitting by Y/N, while Y/N sat up. Bruce and Nat came in further and the four of them began going through everything they knew about the Time Stone and trying to form the most logical plan to collect the Stones. After of few hours of nothing coming together, Tony and Y/N were back laying on the table. Bruce was laying on the floor with Natasha leaned up against him.

“That Time Stone guy…” Natasha began again.

“Doctor Strange,” Bruce corrected.

“Yeah, what kind of doctor was he?”

“Ear-nose-throat meets rabbit from a hat,” Tony answered, spinning his glasses in one hand while rubbing his eyes.

“Something neuro,” Y/N clarified.

“Nice place in the village, though,” Bruce added.

“Yeah,” Tony agreed. “Sullivan Street.”

“Hmmm… Bleecker.”

“Wait, he lived in New York?” Natasha wondered.

“No. He lived in Toronto,” Tony scoffed. “Were you even paying attention?”

“Guys, if you pick the right year, there are three Stones in New York.”

Bruce sat up in surprise saying, “Shut the front door.”

~~~

The team was quickly gathered and Y/N explained the best points for them to go.

“Okay, we will retrieve the Soul and Power Stones in space 2014; the Reality Stone on Asgard in 2013; and the Space, Mind, and Time Stones in New York City in 2012,” she told them, pulling the information up on the screens.

“Now all we need are to assign the teams,” Tony stated.

“I’ve sketched out a plan and would like to get everyone’s opinions.”

They all glanced Steve’s way, waiting for the Captain to say something. He simply glared, arms crossed over his chest.

“Shoot,” Clint encouraged, when Steve didn’t speak up.

“So, due to certain knowledge of events, I believe that we need to try and stick to our own timelines, even though it could be dangerous,” Y/N explained. “We know our own timelines best. Where to avoid, where the Stones would be found, all that jazz. With that in mind, I was thinking Thor would go to Asgard, Rocket and Nebula would go to space, and the rest of us would go to New York.”

“The teams need to be evened out,” Steve spoke up, not impressed.

“I was just getting to that. I was going to see if anyone was going to volunteer to retrieve any of the Stones. I believe we need at least two people on each mission. And remember, the space mission is actually two separate missions.”

“I’ll go with Thor,” Rocket offered. “I think I could probably help the best there.”

“Thank you Rocket.”

“I can go with Nebula,” Rhodey said. “I’m not familiar with any of the spots, so I might as well.” Y/N nodded in agreement, making a note of it.”

“I should stay in 2012,” Tony said. “Being back in the Tower, I might have to break into JARVIS.”

“Agreed,” Y/N.

“I’ll stay in 2012 as well,” Steve said. “I also think Scott could be a good asset with us as well.”

“Sounds great,” Scott nodded along.

“Bruce, I was thinking that you and I could go and speak to the Ancient One and get the Time Stone,” Y/N suggested. “I have a feeling it will take some convincing to take the Stone from her.”

“Okay,” Bruce agreed.

“That leaves Clint and Natasha. Since you guys are a good team, how do you feel about hitting up Vormir for the Soul Stone?”

The two looked at each other and nodded, before looking back at Y/N.

“We can do that,” Clint said.

“Awesome,” Y/N responded. “Now we just need specifics for each mission. Break off into teams and use the information to create a specific plan.”

Everyone split off and created plans for their team. Coming back together, each plan was explained.

“Alright,” Steve claimed the attention once the final plan was laid out, “we have a plan. Six Stones, three teams. One shot. Take the night to get things together and rest, we’ll meet up and head out in the morning.”

next chapter >

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pndnj · 4 years ago

Text

Cathartic- Yellow Metal Lyrics

Heres where I am with the lyrics, I referenced @25Goldenn on twitter for some of it that I couldn’t comprehend.

*music*

0:23

Dark matter, like painted splatters, they fit better, the old saying, the way it goes, better the devil you do then you don’t know. I hit pedals and switch levers, my heart metal, I can't settle, im part trouble, they are not subtle. I fuck good so fuck cuddles, burst bubbles the thrist levels at new heights, i down doubles, and got baked til I felt high, my face puzzled, felt muddled, far strung and your floors woodent, the thought might but the fit wouldn’t. A fortnight

0:46 - 1:00

And I thought right, it’s all bark and no bite, I’m Tony Stark still embarking on a dream, took a bit of time to take darkness from the team. Seen what I saw. Heartless on the sleeve. Tried to burn my wings, so I put them in a piece on my chest , at peace no rest.

1:00-1:15

Flipped this on it’s head. Rip the script up now, flip it don’t pretend, slipping shit again, Fakers all around me, I’ve been living in pretense. Fake friends won’t make amends. There’s no need, these mean comments control the scenes. Attentionseekers, the spine is weakened

1:15-1:24

This family needs, what a family needs, and the planet bleeds, the damaged trees. It’s never leaving til we ascend so fuck the fence, and until they stop killing colour it’s fuck the feds.

1:22 - 1:44

You must be off it, I mean it, you know you ain’t never get with the judging and I used to dread growing my beard too long, never felt I belonged, but it's really long like a minute I ain’t looking to no mans for the limits, They’re feeling timid, I’m telling them who they mimic, why they don't look like a clinic …. Why they don't get no women, Still, we’re just fucking girls, Lost in the wrong world, Jurassic, now to this vermin

1:41- 1: 50

Kicking the game I’m serving, these losers are never learning, my fire is forever burning, adding it to my fuel, seems like I’m always focused on never becoming you, These locals that rob us feeling … was for a reason.

1:52-2:02

I’m seeing my new beginnings, watch out this loser’s winning, and no water is too deep to swim in Like I’m about to see a killing, I’m all the way that and living, flawless and feeling lawless, the prison now to the gimmicks, my vision is set to something,

2:03-:2:20

I’m watching you bitches plummet, no matches here for my cunning, you rappers are feeling done in, switching your genre, running and Running your jaw, stunting, pulling at straws, something I think you’re a poor effort, deaf and tone deaf and I ain’t treat you separate. Living, I’m in my element, riding it like a … never lose me to fentanyl, scared when I take a benadryl. Keeping it green in general

2:20- 2:46

Think that you remain irrelevant. Look at yourself with reverence, hoping to always elevate. Celibate of these thoughts, killing themselves with sedatives. In comparison to eminem, you’re feeling feminine. Impolitically correct, still dropping on my dick. And I never gave a fuck about what they say abt my shit, I’ve been moving things in my mind like it’s this mountain dew Memories have made me wonder if one day I’m after you. What’s the purpose that you do, is what you're hoping that they learn, i’d like to say i’m done but it’s getting up on my nerves

2:46 -2:55

I’m looking at my life, saying what do I deserve. It’s hard to say I know when I’m walking through the dirt. Talking while you’re nothing I can see for what it’s worth. I’m tired of feeling hurt and I’ve tried enough but nothing works.

2:55-3:40

I’m racking up excuses while I’m slacking off on work. Chit chatting is the usual, talking to this clerk, i beg you don’t include me. I might write it on my shirt so everytime they see me, the oldest know to swerve. SWERVE Life is potent, bits of fucked shit… till they took notice weren’t no hocus pocus, it was hard work that got me heard so i put in the graph like google maps but the whole earth

… around my door mat, taking over like the drones, rolling dirt up in miles like the water, and exploding like Annas hematoma. Don't need to see a slammer to know that I don't want to go man

I’m a showman. I’m just focused on the drama… like i’ve got my own insurance, show myself the pain, like i boxed it in the frame, if we’re about to talk greatness im great, the way you have to say my name like beyonce

“Say my name”

4:00-4:46

Just a bum with a cigarette, sun coming up, all my thoughts on the internet. Feeling deep, I’m just bored with the silhouette single sec, get fucked up for the thrill of it . killer streak playing Pacman. Like I came from the Philippines vanilla bean still a thing for the thrill of scene,

Theres a beam, UFO, Leave it well alone I aint moving, stood still on the peloton, telephone and its always on the dial tone, it's been a while since i’ve smiled at a milestone, seen a big pile in my mind stone, me against the world on my Jack Jones, Like I’m John Jones, With pictures in the condo, far from John Doe, in the ___, like I'm Johnny Bravo, got pravado, with a small dick sitting in golados, feeling far gone, cuz that last hit was the good shit, was that stay lit

4:48-5:02

You can never take my shit come and get me. On the top floor, cloud 9, fading, never bailing, felt amazing, inhaling, til my lungs two guns blazing. Overcome all the stunts that I pulled. A suit of just skin and then wool

5:02- 5:17

This life doesn’t give you no armour, a lot of myself can harm ya. I swear on what’s good, that I’m here till they take me. I pray that I’m wrinkled, at least over 80, and start moving like a ruler, ?damaged? Like a computer going fast, bars from the jeweler, bring the songs to the beach in hopes of finding tuna

5:18-5:36

…

5:36- 6:16

Grab a bat, lose my rag. Couple things got me mad, a couple people got me wrong and now I’m changing up the swag. Coming in and stealing it, I might take the whole bag. Feeling undefeated, I’m a beast with a reason, and imma lead the whole pack. Fearless like I’m Caesar, I’m just waiting for a chance to fill it up with diesel, and all I've been achieving is clocking miles in its region, moving like a legion.

Promise that I made to myself an allegiance. Do you still believe I’m a fool for ever leaving, staring at the ceiling, can never put a cap on achieving. I’m just here for the rap, then I’m leaving.

I’ve had about enough of being my own enemy, it’s time I grew up, a long way from 17. Always went against the grain, struggles in my life. Got some things to say when I stand up on a mike.

6:16-6:32

I ain’t dropping this for fame, I need this time, like therapy, it’s just to keep me sane. The truth is on my medicine, can’t put that on your plate.

Speeding into everything, bout time I fixed the brakes. Don’t say I can’t communicate , you know I conversate with you in several different ways. And I know you know it’s references, looking at your face.

6:33- 6:53

Can’t justify mistakes, like every man that made them, seems I ain't the one to blame. Lying to myself, only had so much to gain, so now I’m switching up the plate, see if that affects the place, im at on most days

I ain’t going with the usual so they looking at me strange. Confused, I can feel it all, I’m here to make a change. It’s cold at 3am outside, I’m walking with the dog, thanking god that you don’t talk at all, my mind is switching off

6:54-7:12

Driving down to find myself, cuz I’ve been getting lost, lived this selfless life and found I can give a toss. Lessons that I’ve learned I’ve tried teaching to myself. What I’ve learnt from certain people is that they’re better than myself.

So I surround myself with real ones, and you feel the plastic melt. Like burning toy soldiers that used to go up on the shelf. Recycle the ideas, conveying on the belt

7:14-7:29

.. circus, always hurting the way we felt? Embarrassed that we dreamt of bigger things and letting go of notions till we feel them in cement

Tired of only hoping, we feel broken men. Cuz the gravity is weight and has kept us to the ground, see the only people speaking with favors in their mouths

7:46-7:58

Got killer rhymes… no fillers, like godzilla, eating clouds cuz my smokes thicker, throat licker, my dope sicker, bringing people their hope like im the pope slicker, i hope you’re getting the point cuz i walk quicker

I thought my city was shit bcs I want bigger like my zipper couldn’t zip up fed up with the…my love is fickle.. Residual age has a primitive face

I see demise for your limited ways, Left it to simmer, simmer away…a fake glimmer in the haze

8:09-8:11

Feeling trapped this industry is a cage

8:34-8:50

Nobody’s speaking the truth, I’m offended by the State. Look at the state of the news, I’ve decided the argument, reciting my views, while they’ve been sat in their chairs, I’m feeling pressure to choose.

Standing here as one man, how can I do half when you’re half the person I am. If it wasn’t in your life, you didn’t choose it. It’s the funny thing about music. It’s the pain and beauty of it.

8:52-9:11

Don’t give a fuck what my suit is, it looks good so I wear it, better than the shoot that People’s wearing, changing the whole narrative for these basics and scarcity

Been facing the racists from back when i were a kiddie .born up in in 93’. been living in Bradford City..kicked me out of the schools, they had a problem with me hitting the kids that would call me p*** still sitting in the classroom chilling, and i'm angry now that I’m older I see they treat us different

9:12-9:25

got me thinking I’m the problem cuz they never dealt with those issues.

20 years later I’m still in the same boat, tryna treat me like my grandpa, say I came up off the boat. Came to tell you what I stand for, man I think you’re shit, a joke. How can I be civil, when they got me by the throat

9:25-9:35

Pushing my feelings down, you ain’t got it like them

‘Boy your skin is so light’, ok motherfucker take my name up on a flight. Try to convince immigration that your bloodline’s half white.

9:35-9:45

I don’t know how that’s acceptable, when life is more susceptible to perception, be the death of them. I’ve been looking at the sky saying where’s that day of reckoning, you had your prophets right when they say that you would speak to them.

9:45-9:55

I need justice in this life and I trust that it’s my fight, cuz when I’m writing it feels right to have them focused on the facts again. Focused on the rap again, hoping for the change, gunna put this on the map again

9:55-10:16

Writing in all caps again, the pain, it goes through me so I write the letter. All the shit that could have brought me but made me better.

I’m at home with a pain in my soul , yeh rap… cuz you know I was too real to contest it, my time was invested. Now I look at the industry, I see it infested, looking like kids who would write on nesquik.

10:17-10:29

My name ain’t on the list unless they label it ethnic.

I ain’t never gave a fuck about these jokers and jesters. Ain’t no answers for these things, so just save us the questions, man allowed of violence, cuz my silence is deafening, your opinion stinks, somebody get him a breath mint.

10:30- 10:42

Start to understand why they think that I’m threatening, I move in certain ways, couldn’t slow me with ketamine Now they all wanna hear me, got a table at letterman. Direction changed, like I changed up the lettering. Don’t believe the age ,bcs I move like a veteran.

10:42 - 10:47

Raised on the benefit for whose benefit, they’ll never learn shit, man, if the shoe fits.

…no words coming out when you open your mouth

And to be honest, it’s insulting, offensive to my wounds that have been salting. Tryna ask me questions that they know I never answer. I’d rather sit online and reply to the fan art

11:00-11:06

Fuck a sports car, coming through when i rapped

tell you what I like, farm life and the tractor

11:06- 11:17

Fake life, 'sup online, suck a fat one. You don’t wanna buy into that, none of that son. Sitting in the garden 98’ in the Datsun, seen some hot summers but I still remember that sun.

*music*

11:51- 12:34

I make millions off of my pain, cause I know a few millions still living that way

Dealing with the hurt, they should know cause they don’t deserve it, it hit deep cause i hit the nerve. Only way that the sheep learn if the street firm, in my ways I don’t wanna change, everything just stay the same

Who you tryna convince you understand, cant maintain, let the lights dim some, get the Chow Mein, flex, get the tape, right up at night

Why these men be nice to my face, be nice, i ain’t tryna be a gangsta ruins my vibe

Rather be low-key and on my phone. Never need the trophy or the show piece

Never show peace in a North Face fleece. Show kids this like i wrote my flip

Cause the sign might fit till the start i’m sick

12:37-13:05

Now you see where I come from, the world don’t. Only achievement in this life is the Jordans. Committing petty crimes out of boredom, we can’t afford them. So I stole it, need a rolex

Go make sense, get yourself a job, It’s a poor man’s game tryna sit and pray to god, he ain’t sorting out your problems, gotta sort them out yourself

Used to tell us fables, now I’m writing them myself, Cause we raw like animals we all just need some help

Cathartic, I’m an artist, trying to put my heart in

Felt double crossed like Leo in Departed

13:05- 13:27

For the knowledge i’m not charging see I got it all free

But my hunger kept me starving like i’m feening for the feed

I just Need a reason to see me bleeding for my creed. Trick you with the words like I keep em up my sleeve. Picking where I fit, I see me sitting with the queen

I ain’t doing it unless you’re used to saying please

Let me flow a bit, before I sting 'em with the bees, They tryna kill us with disease

(Music)

13:34- 14:12

Why does it feel like they had the same notebook and the same four looks

Like the rain won't touch on their face, so sus when they lie don’t trust not a minor

Please no fuss, I just move through the game like must

Something in the way i adjust till i stick, Free falling like the ship, free fall till i bust

Remember 21 brother gave no fucks. Trying to project when they give them looks

In the projects, in the objects us

In my own way, never gave me love, shoulda never started this, broken hearted kid

Dried up the feeling till I stole the lid

Don’t wanna relish in the fame but I can’t resist

14:46-14:58

I like the way we feel, I like the way, I like the way

Ain’t no mistake, i am a being

I ain’t tryna be a leader, been selling out since Jesus

All my rhymes are for the readers, between the lines, like Father time, I fuck Mother Nature

14:58-15:40

That’s what they get, the connotations. Tell 'em I lived a life, and then I lived a life of adjacent? like its…. and played it patient.

Alone on my own spaceship, always tryna find greatness, still defying lines, but I’m fighting in my prime.

Shining light like Kylo while imma kill it all the time. Aging like I’m wine

Asian in my face, but still my race you can’t define. Focused on defiance, imma fight it while it’s life.

Started something sick and on my mind is what’s next, just became a dad so now I’m taking all the cheques. Better know I’m staying and paying like it’s debt. Imma get it done, if it’s taking all my breath, sweat, and down I ain’t messing around til I’m the best

Speaking in full sentences, shoulda thought about a strategy before you went at the stratosphere about this… rings around Saturn, this ain’t a battle, I’m sat, I’m here

15:40-16:22

Catch me doing magic, hired and sounding tragic I think you could use practice and until that you get the blacklist and pull like a … actress? Fooling them like a catfish, schooling like a legend, happy to be the reference, fusing like iridescence, leaving them all guessing, leaking out of my brain like a pipe I aint fixing, shining like a star you can see it from a distance

Aint many of me around p*** I’m just different Certain stages to this level aint here because fame is to the devil fuck a label, imma do this from the ghetto, clean up like Im Dettol

I’m the man to put a bet on, sight smart like a weapon, this is my kind of setting, i write the world I’m sat in, while these others live on hype, i see them fight in how they type, the fruit is ripe for the taking, i think i might

16:22-16:57

Let me take you away from here, Let me take you away from here, Let me take you away from here

16:58- 17:47

Eccentric things are mentioned like a kid stuck in detention tryna escape im just spitting what is written on the next page, spitting image of my dad in his young days

Born sinner when i’m livid i say fucks sake

Don’t worry i’m too cunning with no plumbing, the waterworks, i sung something that resonates, i thought it first like giving birth to the parrot perch

They see me do it and they know it works

Don’t know what’s worse: the way that you live your life or the way that you write a verse

You’ll be nervous, you don’t deserve it we’ll scratch the surface ill leave a crater, lift the dirt up to find the hurting

Can’t know for certain nothing is guaranteed, tryna be a better person than the world deserves to see cuz i see a lot of sharks still swimming in the sea

Cease and arrest what’s the reason.. And these the kinda kids we bringing up next

Distorted reality, all they needed was family, too hard to face, to see what the damage is

17:47

*i don’t wanna be, i don’t wanna be, a part of this, no, i don’t wanna be, i don’t wanna be, a part of this, *

18:04-18:38

Sometimes they ask the questions too deep to form a sentence, to disform, is this the norm, is this the sentence i feel defenseless i played the setlist, and all my sweat blood and tears, forgot to mention feeling lost, going off into different sections i feel like love wrecked it

If it’s not a drug why am i waiting for the next fix, affected, i cant believe that you left this

I guess I leave for the best wish, moving on like im fine for the lectures

We see it all from spectrums, cuz if we’re falling down we can fall down together

Staircase to heaven, mirror down the middle like 11, resentment on one side it won’t settle

18:38- 19:14

Mind fried but taking sense, they aint got a sense of themselves in the rich ends

Need to spell it out for them.. Made for them so witness

I know you feel afflicted but you always love it with me while im laughing at you, ya think you’re laughing with me

I try to (i love you) but im grown so they don’t fit me, my body thrown from the new to this old city so Im sick of sitting on my own, feeling so shitty, i’ve been on roads where its cold and the snow hitting

Its okay to be yourself, sit and talking to myself

I’ve been walking for the longest, just need a little rest, know i ain’t the strongest, I can feel it in my chest, talking about my feelings and of me, they get the best

19:14-19:59

They aint leaving, seeing breathing in my breath

Till death do us part is just seeded in my heart, like a work of art

Never winning,im just scared

Cant begin from the start, do i play a part in the rhythm of the night

I guess i’m onto something cuz the dark is feeling right

Every cloud got a lining, put my own miles in, like moralis, figured that they’re jealous, that they could just never tell us to change because the weather never made me question whether or not i’m not that level

Got rid of all the bullshit sitting in my way, most of them are full of shit i see it every day

I do hearing the same things that i do, maybe that shits hitting like haiku

How much do you pay for them to hype you

Recycle your flaws but they aint like new, leaving and conceded and full of diesel like engines that need a cleaning, the ending will be revealing. Even though we ain’t raising the facts, now we been facing.

20:01-20:52

The cactus with spikes, needing spaces. Different faces, the same story. A full body like straight body direct to your system.

Could never tell 'em we missed’ em. Not even with the thoughts, we gift them. Cuz they just take advantage, guess we are caught in a system.

My soul pouring out details of borrowed time, had enough of a fill, this is for sorrow time. I’m seeing visions of Heaven, I seen the severed line, between the gospel they speak and when theyre telling lies.

Remember telling a friend of mine, you’d sent of mine, identified like a 3rd eye. Got a habit of knowing now where the dirt lies. So benign. I ain’t sober after 9, so I fuck their minds. Why you flipping out, see another

Try to rep it from the city, fuck a chiller crew, repping for the nittys, trying to keep us down, raised on the social, don’t want to let us out of the system. Me, I insist we assist them, me alone putting shifts til I lift them

20:53-21:12

I know it’s hard, that’s why I like it, I’m fit to fight it, I’m from the North, I’m backing Tyson, it’s been decided, don’t see no light. They needing guiding, just redefining, realizing, I’m realigning, in full finance, they stay silenced.

Can’t be louder, I’m juiced up with no powder. I fix shit like a slick spanner. Gone green like Bruce Banner. So free Gaza on my banner

21:12-21:51

The real McCoy, I ain’t nothing to toy with, signifying peace like a Japanese Koi Fish. How did this happen, we’re moving backwards in our timeline, killing us with cyanide, Right up for the freedom 'til we transform like Ironhide

This is bout my feelings, the way that I move affects the fate that I’m sealing. Can’t say nothing, with that something being on the page, kept inside the pen like the bars that have been kept caged. See I always had a plan, since I was young, we had nothing man

Now it’s been a few years since I ain’t seen the fam, on foreign lands. Bout to climb Everest in the avalanche. Right into the riddles as soon as you were born. Never asking the question cuz it’s the norm. See I’m in a questionin’ session

21:52-22:03

Like the manner got a method to teaching a lesson, listen to MF Doom, he taught me like Ra’s Al Ghul. Felt like living in Gotham, the people were rotten. Still we play cartoons so it’s never forgotten.

22:03-22:15

Chilling at the top but we came from the bottom. Writing and jottin for them life by, spotting the difference

*Dreams, was growing out of me, sun promising that tomorrow it will rise, time playing games with my mind, I swear it will pass us by

Train goes on the tracks, smoke, I’m tired to hide my thoughts, so blinded in flames, Don’t know where we’re going, I have no way of knowing, only see what’s in my head

Can’t we wait a minute, so we can savour this, It’s on my brain again, these days, It on my brain again these days”

23:10-23:46

They’re hating on Palestine ways, The oh no Palace playing Prince on the Steinway, Sending out mind waves, stop them like crimewaves, Freedom fighter, Yellow Metal is my name

Like vipers, I see the sly ones, the snake that’s called Biden, none of them abiding what they might put in writing

We should be used to it by now, say whatever for the vote and then just choose another route, say they’d never kill another unless that brother’s skin is brown

I’m just telling you the facts, if you can’t take it, the truth naked, to bare bones and my thoughts lately, spitting politics.. Done ain’t it, Shit just gets me vexed, and now I’m sitting that I think of it

23:45-23:59

Feeling on the brink of it, whatever it is, Figure out some shit at least it feels that way

talk about my feelings and I don’t feel so strange, finding solace, that’s a promise, in Metropolis but being honest, can’t write a sonnet, without some pain

24:00-24:40

Can’t fade away, away so we can savour this, been on my brain again these days

Can't find a way to be so you can savour this, been on my brain these days

Singing the song for another, singing a song for another

#zayn #yellowmetal #cathartic #feel free to correct me pls #cathartic lyrics

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frost-queen · 3 years ago

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I wanted to do a fun tag game, that allowed you all to get to know me better. To know the weirdo that provides all your lovely requests ^^

Piccrew picture of me > can be done here

The last song I lisened to: Enemy by Imagine Dragons

Last photo saved: A screenshot of a book action to receive a free bag for later to remind myself ^^

My lockscreen: My Zodiac sign & astronauts hanging on Saturn

🎵 Four songs I’ve heard today

Encanto ~ The family Madrigal

Indilla ~ Ainsi bas la vida

Faouzia ~ Don’t tell me I am pretty

Imagine Dragons ~ Enemy

🎬 Seven comfort films

Howl’s moving castle

Lord of the rings (all 3)

Castle in the sky

Stardust

Mulan

Pride & Prejudice

Barbie movies (& you don’t get to judge me about it! but like the old one’s not the newly terrible one’s. So nostalgic)

Nickname: Eenie meenie manimo listen to the radio (as my mom often calls me out of the blue ^^)

Star sign: Sagittarius (Fire element)

Favorite bands/ groups: Imagine Dragons, Panic at the disco (I actually don’t listen much to bands anymore as I used too, so currently none)

Favorite solo artists: Faouzia, Melanie Martinez, Aurora, Au/ra, Indilla, Halsey, Lana del rey

Song stuck in my head: We don’t talk about Bruno, like all the time! I can’t get it out. (not that I am complaining haha, It’s an amazing song)

Last Movie: Mulan (live-action)

Last show: Hometown cha-cha-cha (yeah I like watching K-drama from time to time, get over it haha)

When did I create this blog: Pfft like I remember? uhm roughly 3 years ago... no... wait more... like 5 I guess, have I been around for that long? Idk, I lost count

What do I post about: FANFICTION! come to me for all your lovely idea’s to be written out! I have a various range of fandoms I write for and am willing to expend it when I can ^^

Do I get asks: You bet your ass I do! sometimes a lot, sometimes nothing but it’s a perfect balance I guess. Mostly about requests but sometimes there pop up a few asks about me or how I am doing and I adore that.

Lucky number: 14

Instruments: I play the piano... or am learning too. I’m not the best but am taking courses so that’s what matters. I love doing it.

Dream job: WRITING AND FINISHING MY DARN BOOK IDEA! hahah no for real, I truly want to do that but not for a living. I want to work with kids, I adore them more then adults (in the work world)

Favourite food: My mom’s home-made lasagne mmmh just utterly delicious

Nationality: Belgian (Europe)

Languages I speak: Flemish (mohtertongue) English, French, German (or at least I am learning the language haha)

Favorite song: Don’t make me choose! I can’t I utterly can’t, but if I may recommend a few. Burning bridges by Sigrid, Control by Halsey, Experience by Ludovico

Last book I read: That was the haunting of Hill house, currently reading ‘part of your world’ a twisted version of the little mermaid.

Three fictional universes you’d like to live in: Narnia! but only if Prince Caspian and Edmund are there lol, Harry Potter for the magic but then around when the maraunders were alive and last but not least Bridgerton & Pride & Prejudice, can I please have a man dance with me and kiss my wrist and tells me I have bewitched them body and soul, dueling for me and batting away all the terrible men, pine for me in silence and sweep me off my feet. *sigh*

I tag: @merlieve, @bb-skyrunner, @calummss, @floatlosers, @alex--awesome--22, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @october-leaves, ... so many others to do so as well.

#tag game #get to know me #the one behind the blog #i loved doing this

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outer-bnks · 4 years ago

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Two Burning Hearts Are Dared to Break (JJ x OC) Ch. 14

JJ catches Elle and Topper in a compromising position, eliciting a fight in which some truths are exposed.

Warning: brief mention of alcohol, smoking. hella angst

Word count: 1.5k

“JJ! Wait!”, she followed him out to the side entrance of the garden that was thankfully empty, watching as he made his way over to a catering truck that stood in the carpark attached to the club.

“For what Elle?! What I just saw doesn’t need explaining!”, he huffed, as he continued walking away from her.

“What are you even doing here?”, she questioned, unaware that he was going to be attending the party. Noticing his navy shirt and slacks, she realised that he was working one of his multiple jobs in order to earn enough to pay off his restitution. He opened the back doors of the truck, beginning to unload them.

“What does it look like? I just thought I’d swing by for shits and giggles”, he sarcastically answered, his arms out wide, looking around at the crates around his feet.

“Well you could’ve told me that you were coming!”, she exclaimed.

JJ scoffed, “What difference would it have made, you looked like you were having a pretty good time in the laundry room!”. The fuzzy feeling that she was experiencing with Topper had definitely dissipated, leaving the all too familiar sinking sensation in her stomach.

“It would have made a lot of difference JJ!”. For starters, she might not have agreed to be Topper’s date in front of the boy she actually had feelings for.

Rolling his eyes, he turned away from her again, continuing to work, “I don’t even care, it's just that I didn’t think you’d move on so fast”, he shrugged, trying to make his disinterest believable by adopting an apathetic tone of voice.

Elle’s eyebrows furrowed, confused by his choice of words, “What? Move on?��. As far as she was concerned, they had nothing to move on from, he had made that very clear as of recently.

“John B’s only been gone for 2 weeks, you know I just wouldn’t have thought that you’re the type to just-”.

Elle cut him off, utterly bewildered by what he was implying, “Wait wait wait. John B?”.

“Yes John B, Elle! It’s so obvious that you’re into him”.

It was her turn to scoff, “Are you out of your mind? I do not have a thing for John B! I never have!”. He thought she was into John B? Maybe she’d thought she had a crush on him when she first moved to the OBX, but that quickly changed as soon as met JJ. She was even sure that John B was aware of her feelings for JJ, making sneaky comments that only she could hear, or winking at her whenever the pair were left alone together for more than 5 minutes. But she’d never actually had a conversation with him about that, he was the kind of friend who knew what you were feeling before you even knew it yourself.

“Could’ve fooled me”, he mumbled, locking up the back of the truck as he had now emptied the crates into numerous stacks.

Looking around the garden, puzzled by how he’d come to this conclusion, she sighed, “God JJ you really do talk out of your ass sometimes!”. Had he forgotten about how obsessed John B was with Sarah? Or the fact that Elle was actually excited when Sarah joined the Pogues?

This seemed to get a rise out of him, turning on his feet and walking over to her, “Oh please! All the times I would come over to the Chateau and you were already there, in his bed fast asleep, or answering his door basically naked?”. He knew that the way he spoke definitely portrayed his jealousy, and was uncalled for, but he hoped that masking it with confusion or anger wouldn’t give away his true feelings.

Honestly, it killed him the first time he entered the Chateau and found out Elle had decided to sleep in John B’s bed instead of the empty spare room. It was the morning after they’d been hanging out as a group, smoking, watching movies and binging on the snacks Pope had brought over. Often, on nights like that everyone would stay over, usually having already fallen asleep during the last movie. However, JJ had decided to sleep in his own bed that night, knowing that his Dad was on an overnight fishing trip with his workmates. He hadn’t even thought about whether Elle had stayed over or headed home, until he walked in the next morning, calling out for John B and banging on his bedroom door, not expecting her to answer in nothing but one of John B’s oversized t-shirts. He quickly put two and two together, knowing that she had a drawer in the spare room with some clothes in it for whenever she decided to stay over, and concluded that the scene in front of him, reeked of sex. And of an unspoken betrayal that JJ promised himself never to mention.

That wasn’t the last time he had caught her in that situation, it recurring exactly 5 more times, over the space of the past year. To ensure that he would never feel that betrayal again, JJ had pushed down his feelings for Elle, rebuilt some of the walls that he’d let come down around her, and used sarcasm to hide how he actually felt about the idea of his best friend hooking up with the girl that he thought he was falling in love with.

Shaking her head slightly out of disbelief, she rebutted, her voice rising a few decibels, “Excuse me? I have never slept with John B. So what we shared a bed, does that automatically mean we were hooking up? We couldn’t have just been friends who fell asleep in the same bed after talking for a few hours? JJ I’ve shared a bed with you, Pope and Kie tonnes of times! Was I hooking up with all of you as well?”.

Looking down at the ground briefly, he lowered his voice, becoming aware of how loud they were being. “It’s different with us and you know it”.

Following his lead, she lowered her voice, her anger showing through in her tone instead, “Do I J? I’m surprised you even noticed with all the tourons coming and going from your room”.

His eyes darted up to her face, “What's that supposed to mean?”.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she continued, “You get to have your fun, aren't I allowed to have mine?”. That’s all JJ ever referred to his one night stands or brief flings as, fun.

Pointing back at the door that they’d emerged from, he referred to Topper, “This is what you call fun Elle? Fine, have all the ‘fun’ in the world, but please spare me, I don’t wanna see it”.

She raised her eyebrows out of surprise, two could play at this game. “Oh and you thought I enjoyed watching you mack on anyone with a pulse at our keggers?”. She couldn’t count the times she had watched him sweet talk a touron at a kegger into going for a walk down to the water with him, often not returning for over an hour. Not that Elle was keeping track (although she was definitely keeping track). In that hour, she’d usually devoured way too many shots, or danced, or began chatting up a guy herself, to ease the dull heartache that seemed to consume her.

Defeated by this argument, and his blood still boiling, he resorted to his defences, “You know what, do what you want, just don't come crying to me when he turns out to be exactly who we think he is”.

“From what I can remember, you wanted nothing to do with me, so what do you care who I’m macking on?”.

“The only reason I care is because of John B and Sarah. We’re trying to find ways to clear John B’s name and get justice for Sarah, whilst you're hooking up with her goddamn ex.

When this whole thing between you two blows up like it inevitably will, just know that you have no one to blame but yourself”, he spat, turning and walking back over to crates, beginning to take them around to the kitchen entrance of the Yacht Club.

“Thanks JJ! I’ll be sure to keep that in mind”, she called out after him, watching him make his way inside. She felt as though steam was coming out of her ears and she swore that her face was beet red right now, matching the faded stain on her dress. She was expecting some sort of drama to occur tonight, but not once had she thought that it would’ve been with JJ instead of Topper.

Hearing the door to the garden close behind her, she took a deep breath before turning around to face him, “Hey, are you alright?”, he asked softly. He had definitely heard the fight, probably opting to stay inside so as to not incite any more tension.

“Yeah I’m fine”, she nodded, grabbing his hand in hers and giving it a gentle squeeze, “let’s head back inside, you might need to show me how to act like a proper Kook, I think I’m finished with being a Pogue for the night”, she winked.

Topper recognised her joking tone, hinging from the hips in a faux bow, “Why of course my lady, follow me”. If she was going to be treated like a Kook, what’s the harm in acting like one?

Taglist:

@mybillyhardgrove @cyrrusmreadings @downbytheouterbanks @belledutchess @imagines-and-preferences1216 @teamnick @lauraxwndrlnd @thehomeiknow @obxlife @shawnssongs @rudyypankow @gigi-june @x-lulu @frodofreakingbaggins

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depressedacadamia · 4 years ago

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A kiss would be nice

Summary: Magnus develops feelings for his roomate and has no idea what to do; when theres' some serious miscommunication, Alex and Magnus have to solve an obvious problem.

Pairing: Fierrochase

A/N: THIS WAS MY FIRST EVER REQUEST!!!! I swear I'm gonna organise my Masterlist on tumblr coz its a hot mess rn and then I will get a prompt list up. Anyway, I hope this lives up to the expectations of the request- enjoy and comment!

Read on A03 M;List

Magnus liked Alex.

How exactly was he meant to process this?

Yes. Alex was sometimes a girl and other times a boy but what did it make him?

He could remember the moment Alex came floundering into his life, confident about who she was and Magnus could only think about how much he didn't know about himself. It was ridiculous, in his opinion, to think that he fundamentally changed as a person just because he liked someone.

So why did he feel so scared to come to that conclusion that he did in fact like Alex?

“What are you thinking so hard about over there, pretty boy?” Alex asked dryly as he scrolled through his phone while he dangled off the top bunk of their dormitory. Startled, Magnus snapped his head towards Alex and with no game whatsoever stuttered a terrible lie.

“Uh- Uh, nothing.”

“Uhu,” Alex emphasised. “ So that totally wasn't a lie.”

“Yes, Wait, I mean no- wait,” Magnus stuttered out again, his hands beginning to fidget and his palms becoming sweaty.

Alex simply raised an eyebrow before softly sighing and returning to his phone scrolling. He knew that Magnus wasn't the kind to keep secrets in a malicious manner- if he wasn't spilling something, it was because he didn't feel comfortable and Alex knew as well as anyone else that if Magnus was uncomfortable, nothing was spilling from his lips.

Clenching his fists in finality, Magnus got up, accidentally banging the top of his head on the top bunk above him where Alex was elegantly dangling off, his hair defying the laws of gravity by maintaining its rightful position on his head. He rubbed his head, swore under his breath and continued to make a bashful exit from the dorm room.

Alex could tell that something was definitely up.

Sure, Magnus was weird- he sometimes came back home at incredibly odd hours, always seemed relatively silent when one were to ask him where he had been and he almost always wore his lengthy blonde hair in a way that covered the majority of his face; in fact, Alex had thought about tilting his chin up just so he could get a better view of his elegant features.

So what exactly was it causing his roommate to act so oddly?

Magnus was in the bathroom. In fact he was hiding out in one of the stalls, trying his best to avud Alex at all costs. What had started out as a way to skip the horribly boring parts of his classes, now became a full blown ritual in which he would run away to his favourite bathroom stall- the one by the very end, next to the hand blow dryers, were his favourite but also alarmed him because it was there where he could hear whether anybody really washed their hands and there was an alarming amount of evidence which contradicted so.

He would take a book or sometimes just plug in his earphones to listen to music as he essentially hid out in the stall. Sometimes, when he felt a bit more confident- and knew Alex would be off campus- Magnus would hide out in the library; a much more comfortable and all round better smelling place to read, study and or listen to music.

But now as he slowly emerged from the stall after hours of sitting, heading back towards his room, Magnus could only feel this inevitable feeling of impending doom. He had managed to distract himself from the Alex situation for so long and now, he was about to crumble.

It was only a matter of time.

“Magnus?” A familiar and - dare I even say- dreaded voice asked him.

Glancing through the blonde locks of hair which curtained his face, he caught a glimpse of familiar green hair which he had been avoiding.

“Huh?” He managed to mumble.

Alex frowned. “Don’t ‘huh’ me. Where have you been? I’ve been calling you all day.”

Magnus’s eyes widened- he had left his phone on silent as he didnt want to deal with others. “I-you did? Sorry.”

“That doesn't matter now. Where have you bee- actually nevermind that as well, come on, we need to get back, it’s already late and I know you have an early class tomorrow.”

Magnus hesitated.

Alex noticed. He refused to stay silent about the matter any longer.

“Okay. Spit it out. “

“What!” Magnus stammered. “ Spi- spit what? Spit wh- what out exactly?”

“The reason you’ve been avoiding me? Did I forget to do my chores or something? Or did I accidentally make some sort of mess of your stuff?”

“No- No, of course not!”

“So?”

Magnus found himself too enamoured with Alex’s features to respond. He could feel the bubble bath slowly overflowing inside his mind. What did it mean if he liked Alex? Was he now a completely different person? What did it matter if he liked Alex?

Wasn't he just like everybody else?

But Magnus’ mind told him that it was so obvious that Alex was in fact not like everybody else, otherwise why was it Alex whom he couldn’t keep his eyes off of? If Alex was so like everyone else, why was it his eyes that Magnus always wanted to stare at, why was it Alex’s hair that Magnus always wanted to ruffle or Alex’s hand that he always wanted to hold?

Why was it always Alex whom he wanted to hug when he was having a bad day?

So when he looked back at Alex, he felt the overwhelming need to throw himself and wrap his arms around Alex so tightly that Alex would have trouble breathing and then - in Magnus’s perfect world- Alex would also wrap his arms around Magnus and they would hold each other in their arms and stand their leaning on each other.

“Nothing,” Magnmus mumbled as he came back to reality.

He walked past Alex, eager to get back to their dorm and just sleep his feelings away- something he was used to doing thanks to his years of being homeless. He wasn’t about to escape when a slender hand wrapped itself around his wrist and dragged him backwards.

“No.” Alex huffed almost angrily. “You’re not running away from me,not again.”

Magnus could have sworn- looking back- that he may have let out a squeak.

“You are avoiding me Mister and I’d like to know why. It’s bad enough that you spend all your time hiding in the bathroom stalls, it’s even worse that you're doing it to avoid someone as fabulous as myself. So if we could quickly get this over with, It would be greatly appreciated and I’m sure it would relieve your nostrils as well.”

“I-”

“You…?”Alex prompted.

“Ilikeyou.”

Alex paused, scrunched up his nose before raising an eyebrow in ridicule and letting out a laugh. And while Magnus truly believed there was nothing more beautiful than Alex’s smile, right now, it was the most damning thing he had ever seen.

Of course Alex would be laughing! Who wouldn't be laughing if some weedy, shady blond kid confessed their feelings for them in the most pathetic way possible!

Magnus had no other choice but to clench his fists to resist the burning sensation gathering in his eyes as he turned on his heel and hurried back to his dorm.

He was curled up on his bed, binging criminal minds on his laptop because what else was meant to comfort you after getting rejected if it wasn’t watching people getting brutally murdered by psychopaths and sadists?

He was wrapped with this specific episode- involving a bunch of very explicit murder- when Alex snatched his headphones right off his head plopped himself in the computer chair that rested right next to the bottom bunk where Magnus had been hiding out.

He could feel himself paling as he remembered that he lived with Alex.

“We need to talk.”

What? He was so sick of Alex making every decision, afterall- it was Alex who chose to laugh at him.

“We have nothing to talk about,” Magnus managed to snap back.

“Why do you keep avoiding me? First in our own dorm, then in public and now you don't even want to look at me.”

“I’m sorry,” He retorted, his words coated with so much sarcasm, had there been anymore, he may have become Samirah at that very moment. “Was I expected to hang around after being ridiculed?”

“Ridiculed? What do you mea-”

“-What do I mean? I guess you wouldnt understand what it feels like for someone whom you really really like to outright just laugh at you after confessing. I guess you don't know how- how nerve racking and horrible it is to not feel comfortable and safe wherever you go. I guess you were privileged enough to not deal with doubting yourself with every decision you make and every thought you have!”

Alex started. “I-”

“-No. I’m not finished. Do you know how that made me feel?” Magnus was on a roll. “ Like shit. I felt shitty. I felt like shit and I was curled up like a bratty 5 year old and do you know what I’ve realised? I’ve realised that I have nob reason to feel shitty because I'm not the one who was so insecure in myself that I laughed at someone else who was struggling, esepcially when I rejected a hot piece of ass such as myself!” He finished his ramble with a shout, his chest heaving, cheeks flushed and somehow, his hair messy.

“So,” Alex drawled causally. “ Am I allowed to speak now?”

“No.”

Rolling his eyes, Alex sooke anyway. “ I’m sorry that you feel this way and I guess I can't change that I was the person who made you feel like- well, shit, but I have to say Beantown, you really shouldn't assume things so quickly.”

Magnus frowned, turning his shiny, glossy eyes towards Alex finally. “Huh?”

“Well. If you were to give me a chance to explain, I’d be able to tell you that I laughed because I thought you looked adorable. I would be able to tell you that I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings in any way and I’m very sorry if I did and…”

Alex held Magnus’ chin, pulling his head a bit down so he was able to fully look him in the eye rather than just looking away under Magnus’ chin, forcing him to look him in the eye.

“And…?” Magnus whispered hesitantly, almost afraid of the answer.

“And, I would be able to tell you that I like you.” Alex smiled dopily.

Did Magnus hear that correctly? Did Alex Fierro- the most confident, and in Magnus’s eyes, the most attractive person out there just admit to liking the scraggly kid who used to live on the streets?

“Excuse me?”

Aex sighed. “I said that I like you and your … What was it you said?” He paused for dramatic effect because lighting up his eyes. “ Oh yes and your ‘hot piece of ass’ I believe it was.”

Magnus cringed at his previous words as he started at Alex. Alex fierro liked him!

“What?” Alex smirked on noticing Magnus’s innocent stare.

“Can I try something?” Magnus tilted his head to the side innocently. Alex nodded.

Yes, please do try something, A kiss would be nice.

But to Alex’s surprise, he felt Magnus’s arms being wrapped around his body. It was an odd sensation that at first made Alex want to reel backwards.

But then this familiar ignition in his stomach tugged him back to wrap his arms back around Magnus and bury his face in Magnus’s chest, just about reaching his collarbone.

The hug was brief. Perhaps not even longer than 15 seconds at a maximum, but it was enough for Magnus to feel better.

Alex decided that perhaps next time Magnus would kiss him.

Super cool people Taglist: @wisegirl773 @ddepressedbookworm

#Magnus chase #Alex fierro #fierrochase #Magnus x Alex #Alex x Magnus #Magnus chase fluff #fierrochase fluf #fierrochase angst #Magnus chase angst #Alex fierro fluff #Alex fierro angst #I think I’ll write a part 2 #mcaga #mcaga fanfic #mcaga fluff #requests #phi phi’s requests!#send me requests!

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imkylotrash · 4 years ago

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Perfidy

Pairing: Saul Silva x reader

Request: Reader is in alliance with Beatrix and has been sent by Rosalind to get close to S to find out more about the teachers' plans. After a while, she feels guilty coz she really fell in love with him and confesses about betraying their relationship and sabotaging his plans. S stays mad at her for a while but he loves her too so he forgives her maybe and then fluffy floof? Anonymous And Saul and Reader who is on Rosalind’s side; a highly regarded soldier entrusted to be one of the guards of Saul where he is imprisoned. Over time there is some kind of connection or attraction there (not sure if mutual) which complicates things. It can be unresolved/left open or if you come up with an ending cool! Anonymous

A/N I did a little twist at the end, and I'm not really sure how well it worked 😬

Tagging: @grey-girl @intoanothermind @artsyle @baueoud @glowingatdawn @anreeixcobra @kingunder221b @lflores2008 @alexiapayne12 @quarterback-5 @estelmei @alice-the-nerd @bitchwhytho @music-of-melody @shadowhuntyi

"Food." You place the tray on the floor backing out of the room to keep an eye on him. When the door closes, you take a deep breath that you didn't know you needed.

"That's all?" It's the first time you've seen him since Alfea. He looks horrible already. The Solarian prison is a tough place to survive. Part of you worries about him, but you push that in the back of your mind trying to crush any affection you might feel towards him. You can't like him - and he certainly doesn't like you.

"What do you mean?"

"You've got nothing else to say? After using me for information, making me believe that you lov-" Words fail the soldier as he looks at you through the glass that confines him. Of course, it isn't normal glass. It's been reinforced and manipulated to prevent cracking. It's the most secure prison in the whole of Solaria.

"I was doing my job." He throws the tray of food towards you but you don't flinch. It won't do any damage.

"That was a waste of food. Some people would kill for a meal like that."

"I feel like you're always running off to talk to Farah or Ben," you whine as he comes back from yet another long meeting. You want in on those meetings. You want to know what they're doing to keep the Burned Ones at bay. You want access to Dowling's office. You want it all, and you have to play this stupid game of pretending to be here just for Saul.

"Maybe you should just come next time then. I'm sure they'd appreciate your point of view," he says so casually that you almost drop the glass you're holding. It cannot be that easy. You've been seeing each other for three months and already, he seems to trust you.

"Really?" You could intel on Bloom to help Beatrix, you could find a way to break out Rosalind. It seems far too easy but he nods his head and as promised brings you with him for the next meeting. You're surprised by the guilt that lingers in the corners of your heart, as you walk back from the meeting hand in hand.

"I really liked seeing you involved tonight. It's nice bringing you and the rest of my world together," Saul admits a little sheepish.

"I appreciated you letting me be a part of it." The words roll off your tongue so easily it scares you a little. You squash the part of you that might hold any sort of feeling towards Saul and focus on the information you got tonight. Any day now, you'll be able to break out Rosalind.

"You think I care about food? I want to know what the hell is going on! What did you do to Sky?" Your fingers are itching to be run through his hair, but you also don't have a death wish at the moment so you stay on your side of the protective barrier.

"Sky is just fine. He's still at Alfea studying." This little piece of information seems to relax Saul slightly, but you can still see the betrayal in his eyes. He hates what you did to him, but you're not entirely convinced he actually hates you.

"I should've known you weren't being truthful. You never cared about anything other than yourself." You clench your jaw to keep yourself from admitting everything you've been ignoring for the past year but he sees the crack in your facade. He knows he hit a nerve, and he'll definitely be using that to his advantage later. There are no rules to how this game works anymore - something you're both very aware of.

"I'll let you get some sleep. I'll be back by dawn."

"Are you still awake?" You keep quiet hoping he'll believe that you're sleeping. You can't face him right now knowing that tomorrow he'll be given the title traitor and be escorted out of here in handcuffs. He's quick to undress and crawl under the covers. His warm body almost melts the ice you've tried to seal your heart with.

"I just wanted to let you know that I love you," he whispers unaware that you're awake. It's the first time he's said and even you can't ignore the butterflies in your stomach. As the amazing actor you have become, you pretend to slowly wake up.

"Hi baby," you whisper with a smile cuddling up to him. You don't say a word about what you just heard and he doesn't repeat it. But it hangs in the air between you.

"I'm sorry I woke up. Go back to sleep," he says kissing your forehead. How are you ever meant to go back to sleep after hearing that? Your entire body feels electrified to the point where you can't pretend you don't feel the same way about him. You want him even if goes against everything you believe in.

"I wasn't sleeping." He knows what your confession means.

You return precisely at 4:30am knowing this is the moment where the cameras reboot giving you just five minutes before they'll be back on. You're carrying a set of clothes and a backpack filled with provision.

"You ready?" You open the door handing him the clothes. The timer on your wristwatch lets you know that there are 3 minutes left before the cameras are on again.

"Ready." He keeps a hand on your shoulder to keep up with your pace. This time of the morning, all the guards are in the meeting room waiting for assignments for the day which is the perfect opportunity to slip past them unnoticed.

"Left," you whisper turning the corner with Saul right behind you. 1 minute. Fresh air hits your skin instantly calming you down. The hard part is over now.

"I wasn't sure if you were coming or not," Saul says slightly out of breath. He's still angry with you, but it's nothing like the way he looked at you back in his cell. When you told him to act enraged at you, you hadn't expected him to play the part so well. You're still doing your very best to keep all feelings towards Saul out of your mind. You're doing this to prove that you've had a change of heart. You know it'll be a long time before he'll fully trust you again.

"Of course I came." It's your way of saying those three words back to him, and he doesn't miss the intention. So much has changed between the two of you, but you know that you want to fix it. And this is the start.

"I wasn't sleeping." You want to tell him that you love him too, but there are other truths you'll have to admit before you can get to that part.

"I've been working with Rosalind. Bloom is going to free her," you say trying to remember the feeling of his skin pressed against yours. He pulls away looking ready to run alert the others but he sees something in your eyes that stops him.

"It's too late. Beatrix showed her the way to Rosalind." You know what comes next. He'll yell, throw something and then probably yell some more.

"Tomorrow, you'll be arrested and taken to a Solarian prison."

"Why are you telling me all of this? You could've gotten away with it." For such a brilliant man, he can be quite dense sometimes. You're well aware that the anger will come sooner or later after the confusion is cleared up, but you're using it to your advantage right now.

"Listen to me. This is going to happen no matter what. I thought I was on the right side of history, but the time I've spent here just proved me wrong." You try to take his hands in yours, but he pulls away. He's hurt, betrayed by the one person he thought he could count on.

"They're going to arrest you, and I will be assigned to guard you, which means I can break you out."

"Thank you. For helping me." It's the best he can offer you right now, and you'll happily take it. Anything that isn't pure hatred is a step in the right direction.

"I'm sorry it even came to this." You know you'll be given plenty of chances to prove your loyalty in the future as you take back Alfea, and you'll make use of all of them. This time, you know what you're fighting for, and he's standing right in front of you.

"Follow me?" You mean to say it as an order, but it comes out a question.

"Yes, ma'am."

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bbrandy2002 · 4 years ago

Text

Happy Birthday Burnsy!

The Country AU -- I'm Gonna Live Where The Green Grass Grows

Pairing: Drake x Alyssa, Liam x Riley, and a whole host of other TRR characters.

A/N: This was a silly little idea I had months ago for an AU built around the places and people where I grew up. I never had plans to actually write it, but I mentioned it to Burns, and well ... she wanted it lol so here we are. And she’s already read half of this and is the one who made the mood board for it and the song inspo hahaha. Thank you to @mskaneko for the edits of our OTP’s, and @charlotteg234 for pre-reading the first half of this.

Trigger warning: Gun usage, hunting, mild language ... I think that’s it

@burnsoslow

My dearest friend, when I think back at where we were one year ago, I can’t help but be reminded of the vastly different world we live in now. On February 5, 2020, there was no covid keeping us sheltered and fearful, families were complete, jobs were stable, and so many of the things we worried about then simply pale in comparison to now, Life wasn’t so bad. But here we are with all these new changes and mindsets. Through it all, one thing remained consistent: YOU. You have been my strength, my rock, the anchor that grounded me. We have cried together, laughed a lot together, worried for each other, and celebrated those small victories that were important to each other. And I get so happy when someone comments about how much they love the friendship between Riley and Alyssa because it's the most real part of Fearless. If anyone ever wanted to know what we’re like, it's all written out in that story. I’ve got your back, and you have mine. You’re my best friend and I just love the hell out of ya! I hope your birthday is amazing and that this fic is everything you wanted for this AU.

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

On Sunday mornings in southern Georgia, you did one of two things: You woke up early for church services or woke up late to watch NFL football.

Some people figured out a long time ago how to do both.

Sitting in the back pew of the First Cordonian Church of Everlasting Peace, Alyssa Walker sat quietly with the sweetest southern belle smile, nodding her head along to the beautiful words spoken during Pastor Hakim’s sermon and hiding a pair of earbuds lodged in each ear.

She and her husband, Drake, had laid claim to the pew when they were teens trying to sneak a kiss or two during prayers. After ten years of marriage, they no longer needed to sneak kisses but stayed in that same seat, believing the biggest sinners should stay as far away from the minister as possible. Why be the barrier that may prevent the spirit from reaching the rest of the congregation? The couple felt it was the least they could do.

They were actually pretty good folks and well respected in their community. Alyssa had taught first grade for eight years at the local elementary school, where her two children, nine-year-old Audrey and six-year-old Patrick, also attended. Her best friend since third grade, Riley, was the art teacher there.

Drake worked nearby as the lead mechanic at Rys and Sons Chevrolet out on North Ramsford Avenue. Constantine had owned the auto dealership for 35 years before passing it down to his sons, Leo and Liam, when he ran for and became the town's mayor. Leo peaced out, heading to South Florida, while Liam took on the sole responsibility of ownership himself.

And while most people in this sleepy little town of Cordonia were Falcons fanatics, Alyssa grew up rooting for the team where her parents were born and raised before settling in Georgia as newlywed lawyers: The Chicago Bears.

With the game against the Packers blaring into her ear, she kept a keen eye on the rest of her fellow parishioners. When they clapped, she clapped. When they sang, she sang. She raised her hands in hallelujahs when they did. She had learned to read lips and could “Amen” and “Praise God” right on cue with the rest of them. All the while, she sat in contentment, listening to her weekly football games.

“The score with 14 seconds left in the second quarter is Chicago -- 14, Green Bay -- 17. The Bears have the ball on the 5-yard line. It’s third and goal. If Trubisky can score here, they’ll go into the locker room at halftime with a lead for the first time in this game, or possibly tie it all up with a field goal after this down. This is a huge, HUGE play, Jim ...”

Alyssa twined her fingers together and lowered her forehead onto them as she waited with bated breath for the announcer to call the play-by-play. As far as anyone else knew, she was praying fervently for the Hebrews crossing the parted Red Sea away from Pharoah's army that the pastor was chronicling.

“And here comes the snap. Trubisky backs up. He tosses to Robinson in the end zone. OHHH! So close… batted away by Alexender …”

“JESUS!” Alyssa yelled out in anger. With earbuds in, she didn’t realize how loudly that just came out of her mouth. Drake nudged her in the thigh. She glanced over at him for a second before he nodded to the 123 pairs of eyes that had all turned at once in her direction. It instantly dawned on her that everyone in the congregation heard the outburst.

Feeling the color drain from her face, Alyssa placed a hand over her chest and addressed, “I am soooo into this sermon, Hakim. Woohoo! Go, Jesus, go!” She pumped her fist in the air like she was rooting him on.

Drake dropped his face onto Patrick’s shoulder, who was sitting on his lap, to cover the incessant laughter that threatened to spill out of him. He was doing a terrible job of it, as a momentary burst of muffled snickers could be heard through the sound of the game playing in Alyssa’s ear. Her husband was nothing but a big kid himself -- she wouldn’t change that for anything.

“Mommy,” Audrey whispered next to her. “It’s about Moses. Not Jesus.”

Alyssa smiled, patting her daughter’s knee. “Same thing, baby. They both performed miracles.” She cut her eyes to the phone hidden under the cardigan draped across her thighs. “And the Bears need a miracle right now, guys,” she muttered, “Part those shithead Packer’s defensive line, Lord. It’s time to help my Bears get to the promised land.”

“Going for it on fourth down, Trubisky drops back. The Packer defense is putting a lot of pressure on the Bear’s offensive line. Every man is covered in the end zone. He has no one to throw to, Jim. They’re running out of time. Four seconds left. And, NOOO, they sack Trubisky on the 10-yard line … WAIT THE BALL IS LOOSE … THE BALL IS LOOSE ... he fumbled the ball. The Packers are scrambling to get it. There are green and white jerseys all over that ball. BUT LOOK … Green Bay’s Klark picks it up. He’s running the other way … and he just slipped … he just slipped, and the football fell right into the hands of Chicago’s Robinson --”

Alyssa grabbed Drake’s thigh, her fingers digging deeply with hope and panic. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” her stressed words weren’t audible to the crowd, but they were speaking volumes in her heart.

“--Robinson’s on the 20, now 15, he’s sweeping past the defense to the 10 -- 5 -- TOUCHDOWN, CHICAGO!!!”

"FUCK YES!" Alyssa jumped up, her arms outstretched in a V shape. “Hallelujah. Holy shit. Thank ya, Jesus.” She let out a huge sigh of relief, feeling nothing short of elated, not concerned in the slightest by the heads that twisted around again.

Hakim stood slack-jawed from the raised platform for a moment, his tallish physique slouching on the pulpit, before adjusting the microphone and clearing his throat deeply. "I'm certainly glad, Sister Alyssa is ... feeling the spirit this morning."

"I am feeling it, Brother Hakim," She shook her head profusely. "I. Am. Feeling it." She shot him a dimpled grin.

Drake snorted loudly, covering his face with one hand and grabbing the side of her dress to pull her back down with the other.

They turned to each other, neither one able to control the snickering and shaking of their bodies. Drake lifted a sleeping Patrick over his shoulder while Alyssa grabbed Audrey's hand; the Walker couple decided they were too immature for church this morning.

They laughed all the way to the parking lot.

"It's never a dull moment with you, baby girl," Drake chuckled, turning over the ignition.

"You know me …” She blew on her nails before rubbing them against her chest. “... just doing the Lord's work."

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

It was customary in Cordonia for families to gather together each week for a big supper after church.

The Walkers traditionally took turns hosting with Liam and Riley, and Constantine and Regina. This week's meal was at the elder Ryses.

Sitting down at the dining room table, everyone licked their chops, hungry and ready to dig into all the made-from-scratch southern goodness Mrs. Regina had prepared: Fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, coleslaw, macaroni and cheese, green beans with hamhock, corn-on-the-cob, deviled eggs, biscuits, sweet tea, and coffee. It was all accompanied by two containers of broccoli salad, Alyssa picked up from the Piggly Wiggly deli after church, and Riley's lopsided carrot cake.

There was always a lot of food, a lot of love, and what would it be in a small town without a little gossip here and there.

"Regina, you've outdone yourself on this meal," Liam raved while placing his five-month-old son in a high chair and fastening the clasps. "If it tastes as good as it smells, we're all in for a big treat."

Everyone agreed as she sat down, Constantine pushing her chair in with a peck to the top of her head. "Thank you, Liam." She looked up at her husband with a sincere smile, rubbing his arm. "Only the best for our family."

She meant every word of that as she and Constantine glanced around the table at all the cheerful faces of the people they loved most — that included Drake and his family.

Drake's father had been the sheriff for many years before his untimely death, while the younger Walker was a teen. Connie had never met a braver, more hard-working man than Jackson; the now mayor stepped in after that death to be the father figure in Drake's life. Drake was already best friends with Liam, and over time, the family just considered him one of their own. Drake and Alyssa's children referred to them as Mamaw and Papaw Rys.

As everyone settled in and passed the food around the table, the doorbell rang; 7-year-old Ellie -- Liam and Riley's oldest -- jumped up to answer it. With everyone focused on getting their helpings, Riley leaned over and whispered to Alyssa, "Any more scoop on Savannah?"

Alyssa passed the potatoes to her and answered in a hushed tone, "I drove past her house yesterday ... Chuck was there. His big rig was backed right up into the driveway. They're not even trying to hide it anymore."

"I knew it." Riley slapped a scoop of potatoes onto her plate, passing them across to Liam. "When does Bertrand get back from that Bankers Convention in Atlanta?"

"I think Max said on Tuesday. And I guarn-damn-tee, Chuck will be there until then."

"Of course he will. Have you told Drake yet?"

Alyssa shook her head, peeking over at her husband, who was in hog heaven, dousing everything on his plate with white gravy, blissfully unaware of their idle chitchat. She turned back to Riley. "Not yet. You know how protective he is. I'll need to hide the gun cabinet keys when he finds out ... if he finds out. You remember how upset he got when Bianca got caught at the Love's Truck Stop with Landon Ebrim over the summer. His mama can do what she wants, but not with a married man."

Riley agreed with a nod before taking a sip and swallowing her sweet tea. "Ya know, I've never seen sweet Emmaline that angry."

"Yeah, me neither. She sure whopped ass that day." They both giggled lightly. "Landon's dentures flew clean across that truck lot."

"I saw her the other day at the Food Lion, grinnin' like a baked possum. Got that ol' dog for everything he had."

Alyssa huffed, "Cept' his nuts."

Ellie ran back in and hopped in her chair. "Miss Olivia is here!"

Alyssa stiffened, clutching her fork a little tighter before letting out a faint groan. Not that she didn't like the Assistant Principal of Cordonia Elementary -- she was her boss, after all, and they grew up together -- she could just be a little off-putting, sometimes with her treatment of Drake. In light of Olivia's recent divorce, she had, however, started directing most of her scorn on her ex-husband, Anton.

Everyone greeted Olivia as she strolled in behind the youngster, shrugging her jacket off and tossing it on a counter with her purse. "I smelled your chicken and taters all the way from Lythikos Drive, Regina. You know how I love a good rib stickin' meal."

"Is Travis and Waylon here?" Patrick piped up eagerly from the children's table, hoping to have some boys to play with rather than the three little girls who kept ganging up on him.

Olivia pulled out a chair and started loading her plate down. "They're with their daddy this weekend, sugar. I'll tell them you asked about them."

Drake lifted his coffee mug, not making eye contact with anyone. "Speaking of ... I saw Anton yesterday at the Dollar Tree ... with someone." He smirked into his drink. While everyone else knew who and was trying to avoid the elephant in the room, he owed her for years of squabble.

"Who? Madeleine?" Olivia spat, adding heaping spoonfuls of sugar to her already overly sweetened tea. "Bless her rotten heart, he was seeing her before our break up. Moved in with her right after the divorce was final, so I hope she's enjoyed cookin' and cleanin' after my youngins' all weekend, cause she's gonna be doin it a hell of a lot more now that she got herself fired."

Madeleine was a bank teller in the drive-thru at First Cordonia and also Leo's ex-fiancee.

"Madeleine got fired?" Alyssa asked in surprise. "She's been there for years."

The redhead swirled the sugar around in her tea with a spoon before licking it off and continuing, "Mmm-hmm. Bertrand caught her on video, stuffing her gaudy drawers into the vacuum tubes at the bank and sending them to that bastard when he drove through to make a deposit. He was making deposits alright. Right between her scrawny, cankled ass --"

"Olivia!" Liam quickly interjected, knowing once she got going, it would likely turn R-rated with several little ears listening. "I'm dying to hear how the Christmas Festival for next Saturday is coming along." He shot a look across the table at Drake for getting her worked up. Drake simply grinned.

By late afternoon, supper had been eaten, dishes cleaned, and pants unbuttoned. After a couple of hours of chatting on the back porch and watching the kids play, the two younger couples packed up leftovers Regina insisted they take home and were ready to hit the road.

Liam and Riley lived next door and walked out with the Walkers who were making their way to the Tahoe parked on the street.

Alyssa bounced and cooed over baby Jacob before handing him back to Riley and getting into the vehicle's passenger seat.

Liam was leaning into the driver's side window, having a casual discussion with Drake about the opening day of deer season next Saturday and asking what time he wanted to head out.

Alyssa was half-listening and half-working the stereo when an idea popped into her head. "You know what would be fun?” Both men stopped talking and glanced over at her. “We should all go?”

Drake knit his brows. “Go where?

“Hunting. We can make it a double date. You and me, Riley and Liam. The great outdoors. Some quality time together. I’ll even make snacks for everyone. It’ll be fun,” her voice was chipper. She was excited about it.

She was also deadly serious.

So were the dubious looks Drake and Liam gave each other over the thought of taking their wives on the most important hunting event of their year. Not that either didn't enjoy spending time with their significant others, but hunting was a whole different world. It was a one-person sport where you spent the day away from reality and responsibilities and just enjoying the great outdoors —a place to be alone and experience the thrill of a good hunt.

“Guys, I’m serious. We go fishing together, and I’ve shot targets plenty of times. I really wanna go hunting with you. Riley wants to go too, don't you?” She cast an inquisitive glance out her window at Riley, who glared back with the biggest what-the-fuck look she'd ever made. “See, she wants to go too.”

“Baby,” Drake began softly, giving her knee light squeezes. “I don’t mind taking you, but this is opening day. We’ll be in the woods for hours, in the cold. It’s not really what someone would consider a ‘date.’ And we’re going to the Festival that night … we’ll get a chance to spend time together there.”

She held his gaze as her lips began to quiver. “I understand. You .. you need time to be away from me, and it was a dumb idea anyway --”

“No,” Drake cut in. His heart plummeted from the sadness in her voice and eyes. “That’s not it at all. I love spending time with you. And if you really want to do this, then … let’s do this.”

“Really? We can go together?” Drake nodded with a smile before she squealed in his ear and pulled him into a tight hug. “I can’t wait! Thank you!”

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Liam let out a heavy breath as he looked over at Riley -- The woman he knew would not be a fun hunting partner next week -- still standing on the sidewalk, appearing like she might faint. “Yeah ... I can’t wait either.”

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

Saturday. 5:15 a.m. The cellphone alarm on Drake’s bedside table let off a series of rhythmic beeping sounds and vibrations.

The alarm wasn’t needed. The man had been awake for hours, listening to his wife's gentle snores; the anticipation of bringing home at least a 12-pointer keeping him from falling back asleep.

Letting out a ferocious yawn and a hearty stretch, he picked up his phone to dismiss the alarm and rolled over to wake Alyssa.

With her ass perfectly curled into the space between his stomach and thighs, his hands settled on her curvy hip, jostling her slightly. “Time to get up, my little peach. We gotta get crackin’ before all the good deer are gone.”

“I just need one more hour, okay? Thanks,” she protested with a drowsy murmur, pulling the pillow over her head.

Drake chuckled, rubbing soothing circles over her back. “No. We have to get up now. We’re wasting time, sleepyhead. Unless … you don’t want to go.”

Alyssa’s heavy eyes stung as she tried to peel them open one at a time. “No, I wanna … go ...” she trailed. Her eyes slowly shut again, and she was out.

On a day like today, Drake was usually up and ready in ten minutes. Once he could finally get his wife out of bed, dressed, and back awake again from where she fell asleep on the toilet, it was close to 45 minutes.

Maxwell, who was also a childhood friend and the music teacher where Alyssa taught, rented the room over their garage. He agreed to come down that morning and watch the kids while the pair spent their morning in the woods. Bianca used to help out in that regard, but the kids complained she slept the whole time, and Alyssa was pretty sure her mother-in-law smoked pot around them.

Drake loaded up the truck, placing his rifle and a smaller .22 caliber for Alyssa behind the seat. Dragging herself slowly to the vehicle, the night sky still pitch black and her breath turning to thick vapors in the frigid air, she listlessly tossed a Taylor Swift tote bag on the floorboard and climbed in.

Drake looked at his phone after everything was packed up to see if Liam had sent a message about being late. It was unusual for him not to be there already. Typically, his best friend was up and at his house before Drake was even ready. He sent off a quick text to check.

Drake: Where you at, man?

Liam: Running late. Riley had to put makeup on and do her hair.

Liam: I’m having so much fun already 😑

Liam: snark

Drake: Lyss couldn’t decide which gloves looked the best with her orange vest. I guess she wants to impress the deer before she kills them.

Liam: We’re not catching deer today. We’ll be lucky if we catch a cold. Be there in 10.

Twenty minutes later, Liam’s gray Silverado pulled onto the Walker’s gravel drive. Riley had wanted biscuits and gravy from McDonald's, and she had to run back inside to pee, so that set them back. But, with everyone now there, they were finally ready to head out.

Just down the rural road from where Drake and Alyssa lived, the current sheriff of Cordonia, Bastien, owned several acres of unoccupied land that he used for recreation. He had been a close friend of Drake’s dad and agreed to let Drake and Liam hunt and fish on his property whenever they wanted.

Turning onto the dirt road and opening the gate, the four friends arrived at their spot just as dawn was breaking.

No one spoke much as they trekked through the mud, sticks, and brittle fall leaves that littered the path to the deer stands. Riley and Alyssa were too exhausted to say anything. Drake and Liam just weren’t used to talking at all.

"Riley, love,” Liam whispered softly. “Can you watch how you’re walking? The noise is going to scare the deer away.”

“I can’t help it if … " She reacted loudly in frustration before Liam placed a finger over his lips, and she resumed speaking more quietly. “I can’t help it if there're leaves everywhere. I’m walking on them as delicately as possible.”

“How much further? I think my toes are frozen and I need coffee.” Alyssa bemoaned while walking on the balls of her heels. Drake was basically dragging her sluggish body by the hand. Her eyes were still drooping from exhaustion with every careful step.

“Just over yonder of that fence row is our stand.” He pointed out.

Alyssa aimed her flashlight around the woods in several spots. "And where do we pee at?"

Liam lightly snorted as Drake answered matter-of-factly. "Just over yonder of that fence row below our stand."

"Oh ... " her tone was small and apprehensive, "... I guess that's ... okay." She glanced back timidly at Liam, who was following close behind.

He shielded his eyes from the beam of her flashlight in his face and frowned. "I'm not going to watch you pee, Alyssa."

Riley gasped, "Eww! I don't want Drake watching me pee either."

"Shhhhh." Liam was quick to remind her again of the volume of her voice.

"Stop, shushing me, Liam! Those deer don't know I'm out here."

Drake grunted, then whipped around to face the three of them. "Would you keep your voices down? No one's watching anybody take a piss," he whisper-yelled. "Lyssa and I will be at least a hundred yards away from ya'll. Riley, I promise you can piss your little heart out, and I won't see it."

"We're separating?" Alyssa asked wistfully. "What if I need to ask Riley something, and she can't hear me yelling across to her?"

"You'll just have to ask her when we're done, baby girl. And ... please don't yell questions to her while we're out here. Low voices."

They continued on with their noisy hike.

"Having so much fun," Liam grumbled to himself.

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

Liam and Riley headed to their tree stand as Drake helped Alyssa climb up the ladder to theirs.

The stand and ladder were made of plywood -- chipped and faded from years of exposure to the elements -- and were attached at the apex to an oak tree about twenty feet off the ground. At the top it had enough room to take a step onto, with a wooden seat just wide enough to accommodate them. One plank rail came out on both sides.

Alyssa plopped down onto the seat, clutching her tote bag of goodies on her lap. She lifted the brim of the orange beanie she borrowed from Drake -- that smelled of animal carcass and gun powder -- above her eyes and peered out to the wilderness spread monumentally below. She closed her eyes and slowly inhaled the fresh, dewy air, taking in the sounds of twittering birds, branches clashing from the nearby squirrel frolicking on them, and the rippling of a bubbling brook streaming down the hill.

A pleasant warmth overcame her as Drake's much larger body sat down next to her and protected her from the frosty wind blowing in from his side.

Alyssa wrapped her arms around his waist, snuggling into him. "I can see why you like this so much. It's so quiet and peaceful ... look how purty it is out here, Drake. It's just real purty, isn't it?"

Working diligently on getting their gear together, he stopped briefly to look out; affection glowed in his eyes. “It sure is, darlin’. Almost as purty as you ... and notice I said 'almost.'” He winked, and Alyssa blushed, feeling that same love trickling up inside her she'd had since they were teenagers. Drake could charm the pants off a chipmunk, but she was thankful he only used that gift on her.

"Sooo ... " She drawled in her thick Southern accent. "How long will it be before the deer start coming out?"

Drake drew the barrel of her gun back after loading it with shells and explained, "Don't know. It could be minutes. It could be a few hours. Just whenever they head this way, I reckon."

Perplexed, Alyssa nodded slowly. "A few hours? I s'pose that's okay. What do you do while you're waiting?"

He shrugged, passing a gun to her. "You just ... sit here."

"You just sit here and do what?"

Drake leaned over to kiss into her orange cap and replied, "Wait."

"Wait." She acknowledged. "I can do that. I'll just sit here ... and wait."

Several minutes had passed, and Alyssa was already bored with listening to nature, Drake's gurgling stomach, and sitting quietly with nothing to do. Every so often, a shotgun blast was heard in the distance, signifying either someone out there had gotten their prize or Riley had driven Liam insane. It was the only break from the monotony that came with the boredom of sitting in a tree for who knew how many hours.

Letting out a giant exhale that caught Drake's attention, she propped her rifle against the railing and pulled the cloth tote that was sitting between her boots into her lap. Rummaging through the bag, she pulled out her phone and began thumbing out a message.

Drake furrowed his brows and asked, "What're you doin'?"

"Just texting Riley,' she answered dismissively. He shook his head and leaned it back against the tree while she formulated her message.

Alyssa: You still alive over there? How's it going?

Riley: This is boring as shit.

Riley: And now my texting is apparently scaring away the deer. F the deer Liam. F all the damn deer!!!! What were you thinking, Lyss?

Alyssa: I was thinking we could spend quality time with our husbands. The men we love and cherish with all of our hearts. I’m having a great time with Drake so far 😍😘

Alyssa: And no one twisted your arm to come bitch.

Riley: Liam's just staring through binoculars. He hasn’t spoken in 20 minutes except to tell me to point the gun away from him or to quit moving. Let’s go get our hair did at Adelaide's.”

Alyssa: OHHH Yes! And get Chinese food ... CRAB RANGOONS!! I'll have Drake drive us back. Girls Day Out. Love you!

Drake let out a belch and blew it away when Alyssa turned to him with a dazzling smile and a sparkle in her blues. "Can you drive Riley and me back to the house?"

"What? Right now?" he shrieked. She answered him with a cheerful nod. "What happened to all that talk about wanting to spend quality time with me?"

"I still do. But ... we're just sitting here, not really doing anything. I could be getting my hair done for tonight's festival. I also have a ton of laundry to do, some papers to grade, and I’m supposed to be making the Devereaux’s famous peach cobbler for the raffle. If I leave now, I’ll have time to do all of it.” Alyssa knew she probably wouldn’t do half of that, and Audrey would likely make the cobbler, but it made the situation sound more urgent.

"It's opening day, baby. I'm not leaving this spot." He reached into the pocket of his overalls and pulled out his keys. "If you and Riley wanna take my truck, I'll ride back with Liam."

She gave him an exasperated look. "I don't know my way back to the truck. And I sure as hell know Riley doesn't."

He smirked, stuffing his keys back. "Then you're stuck."

The next hour was brutal. Alyssa texted Riley to alleviate the boredom for several minutes, but there had been no responses in a long while. She wasn't aware that Liam tossed her friend's phone over the hill when she started making TikTok videos of her plight -- Liam took his deer hunting seriously: No noise meant no noise.

Drake wasn't much better; he was quieter than his usual self. It wouldn't have been so bad if she could at least talk. An occasional whispered word was not going to cut it.

Alyssa sighed heavily. She wiggled around for comfort. She unwrapped a Nutty Bar. She crunched. She opened a can of pop. She tapped her fingers. She flipped the pages of a magazine. Each one got that look from Drake that let her know it was too loud. If she ever made it out of there, she planned to jabber and stir until she couldn't do it anymore.

After another half-hour of stewing quietly in her thoughts without a sign of a deer anywhere, Alyssa decided now was the time to finally just talk.

"Do you ever think about having another baby?" It was a topic that had been on her mind for a while. To her surprise, Drake didn't give her a look or even freak out the way she anticipated. Despite his own rule of silence, he even responded in kind.

"Yeah. Kind of a lot."

Her right brow darted up. "Really?"

Drake took a breath and shifted the gun across his lap. "I mean, of course. It's always been my dream to settle down and have a bunch of youngin's with the woman I love." He studied her lit-up face; he'd swore she'd gotten more beautiful with age. That's why he hesitated when he added, "But ... "

Her shoulders slumped at his words, and a deflated look impressed upon her face. "But ... " The word barely made it past her lips.

Drake reached for her hand and gripped it tightly. "Lyssa, we have so much going on right now. You're working on National Boards, Audrey has piano recitals and basketball, Patrick has peewee football and Boy Scouts. We barely have time -- except for right now -- for just ... us. I'm not saying,"never"... just that right now ... isn't a good time."

"I understand that, but ... we've always made it work. And don't you miss those tiny little fingers wrapped around yours? And the way they smell fresh out of the bath? And those chubby little cheeks pressed up against yours?" she goaded.

“Of course I do. I remember the first time I held Audrey and PJ in my arms -- there’s just no better feeling in the world than ...to look down ... " Drake paused as his voice cracked, and his brown eyes glistened like glass. " ... and to see someone so small ..." When she sniffled, it made it that much harder for him to speak. "... that you created with the woman you've loved since you were 16 years old. But I like who they are now, and watching them grow, and doing things with them ... And, well ... there’s no shit clean up.”

“You obviously haven’t washed Patrick's clothes in a while,” Alyssa retorted with a chuckle that brought out one in her husband.

"I’ll have to talk to him about that." He gazed deeper into her eyes. "But I do love you ... more than all the peaches in Georgia, Lyssa Claire.”

Alyssa smiled.“That’s what you said to me when you promised to marry me when we were teens.”

Drake returned his own smile. “I did. I remember like it was yesterday too. Sitting in your parent’s basement, watching Friends reruns, eating pizza, making out. And hell, it’s still as true today as it was then. Somehow, even more."

Their cold lips parted and joined halfway for a fervent kiss, with Drake's hand meandering around the subtle groove at the junction of her waist. Just as it became more intense and desirous, a rustling of twigs off in a nearby thicket caught Drake's ear, and he broke away, his eyes scoping the perimeter. Alyssa wasn't offended, she heard it too, and her heart raced with excitement.

Lifting the binoculars hanging from his neck, he spotted two deer eating from a blackberry patch some thirty yards away. He pointed in their direction; Alyssa gave a quick thumbs up, letting him know she saw them too.

Drake carefully lifted the rifle resting in his lap as Alyssa leaned forward and squinted to get a better visual. "Is that a buck and a doe?" she whispered, not moving an inch.

"Sure as fuck is." He mounted the stock of his .30 caliber, Winchester, just beneath his collarbone; the rush of this moment coursed ravenously through his body. He lined up the scope and placed a steady finger on the trigger -- his thumb pulling the hammer back.

“Wait.” Alyssa loudly whispered. “You can’t shoot him.”

"I'm gonna. Better cover your ears."

"No, Drake. There's a doe with him. What if that's his wife? You can't just leave her all alone without him."

"Lyss, this is the whole reason we're out here."

"So you can make a widow out of her?"

"No ... so I can make deer chili out of him."

Alyssa's mouth flew open. "No. No. RUUUUUUUUN! RUUUUUUN!"

Drake pulled his face away from the scope and fired her a look. "What the hell are you doing? They're getting away!"

She tilted her chin boldly. "I don't care. That was her husband, and they're in love, and you can't take that away from them. I would be so sad if we were just out eating berries and someone came up and shot you, ALL SO THEY COULD EAT DRAKE CHILI!".

Drake dropped his head. He knew there was no point in arguing with her. As long as he’d known her, she was stubborn, and at that moment, she was dead set in believing those two deer were living out the greatest romance of all time. Nothing he said or did would change her mind on that.

A thought emerged while he attempted to comprehend the logic of the situation. Those deer ran off in the direction where Liam was set up. Maybe if he could give his friend a heads up, it was still possible at least someone would leave those woods with the prized buck.

Turning his back from Alyssa so that she couldn't stop him, he pulled a small walkie-talkie from his pocket and radioed Liam. Alyssa knew what was up and jumped to her feet, thrusting her arms around him in an attempt to stop the travesty.

"You can't do this, Drake," she hollered, "That’s her soulmate. And why don't I have a walkie-talkie? I want a walkie-talkie!"

While seated next to Liam, Riley was swinging her legs, purposefully making the soles of her boots scrape against the platform. Liam tried to ignore her; maybe he had been a little too uptight about every little noise and utterance she made. But this was playing a whole different ballgame now: she was now making it her mission to piss him off.

Prepared to pound his head against the tree, Liam gritted his teeth, skimming his eyes in her direction. "Love, do you have to do that?"

"Did you have to throw my phone in the woods?" She spat back.

Liam rubbed his hand over his face. "No, and I am sorry that. I apologize for all of eternity. I promise I will get you another one as soon as we get back, okay?”

Riley huffed. "Fine, but that phone had all of my contacts on it. It had our babies' pictures and videos on it ... our vacation photos. I can't get those memories back ever, and I have to find it, and God only knows where it landed. It could be ..." She stopped rattling on when she caught sight of the distressed look Liam was giving her. Knitting her brows, Riley asked, "What?"

"Nothing ... just ... can you lower your voice a little? You're gonna scare the deer away,"

He regretted it as soon as it came out.

“LIAAAAM!”

He saw the steam gushing out of her ears. There was no time to answer the incoming call on his walkie-talkie from Drake.

Belting out a furious screech, Riley jumped up and tried to jerk the gun from his hands. There was no question she wouldn't shoot him, but she'd sure as hell shred his favorite gun apart piece-by-piece and toss them all the way to Portavira Lake on the other side of town.

Riley tugged with all of her might. "I have HAD IT with being quiet for those damn deer, Liam. HAD IT!"

"Sweetheart, you need to calm down ..." He stood up in front of her, pulling back on the rifle even harder, surprised -- and not pleasantly so -- his considerably smaller wife had this much struggle in her.

"Don't you sweetheart me. You have shushed me for the last time, Liam Preston Rys!"

“Okay, I’m sorry! But can you at least admit us fighting over a gun is dangerous? Somebody is going to get seriously hurt, and I don’t want it to be you, Riley. Please. I won’t shush you anymore, I promise.” His face softened, eventually adorning a loving smile at his wife, who, with a sigh, was unable to resist that handsome face and relaxed her grip.

Riley gave him a half-smile in return. “I’m sorry, too. I’ve ruined your hunting trip.”

“Yes ... you did.” Liam agreed, dodging the playful slap she nearly made to his upper arm. “But I don’t want to fight anymore.”

With the War of the Ryses finally over, they went in for a makeup kiss until Drake’s voice called out to Liam again through his walkie talkie. Liam set the gun down on the bench and leaned it against the tree before he started digging into his pocket to answer the device. Riley dropped down onto the seat, her elbow brushed against the rifle and caused it to slide away until the barrel end hit the railing and set off a powerful blast.

When the ringing in both of their ears subsided, and the smoke had cleared, Liam and Riley collected themselves from the sudden spine-gripping explosion that shook them both. While Riley explained to Liam what happened, a hysterical sounding Drake came back over the walkie-talkie, wailing, “Alyssa’s been shot! Alyssa’s been shot! Help me!”

__________________

Later that evening, in the courthouse square, the street was lit up with zig-zagged rows of red, green, and white lights. Strands of garland were wound around every lamppost in perfect spiraled loops, and red bows hung and waved with the wintry breeze.

With traffic rerouted away from the area, vendors lined sidewalks selling local goods to put the town's citizens in the festive spirit. What would this small town in Georgia have been without boiled peanuts, low country boil, fried green tomatoes, barbecue, and peach everything?

Once Constantine had lit the 30-foot spruce, surrounded by hundreds of merry people from all walks of life that made up this small community, the festival was officially kicked-off.

In a large tent set up on the square, Liam and Riley laid out styrofoam containers and drinks they’d purchased from a barbeque vendor on one of several picnic tables inside. With their two young daughters munching away on their meal, and the stroller with their sleeping son beside them, they both sat down with heavy hearts and restless minds.

Liam bit into his barbecue sandwich, noticing Riley only prodding at her mac-and-cheese while staring off into the distance. He didn’t have to ask what was wrong; he knew what happened that morning was bothering her with guilt and worry. It wasn’t every day she accidentally shot someone.

“Are you going to be okay?”

Riley shook her head slightly with a sad look. “No. It’s just not the same without Alyssa here. You know how much she loves Christmas and the festival. She was so looking forward to it too, until --”

“You shot her.”

“Yeeeeeesssss,” she cried out. Liam reached across the table and gave her hand a comforting squeeze, his thumb caressing her smooth skin. Riley continued to sniffle as she grabbed a handful of napkins and wiped the barbecue sauce off Liam’s sticky fingers that were now smeared all over hers. “I didn’t mean to, I swear it. And the way … and the way Drake cried. It broke my heart. Now he has her on bed rest AND house arrest. He won’t let her take calls. I’ll never see or hear from my bestie agaaaain.” The tears continued to flow in steady streams.

Liam stiffened, feeling the eyes of everyone in that tent, gawking at his overly-dramatic wife breaking down. He started to tell her to lower her voice, but after the gun battle in the woods, he thought better of it. “Riley, darlin’, you know Drake is really overprotective of Alyssa. And as scary as what happened was, she only needed the one stitch and band-aid for her graze wound. Something tells me Drake won’t be able to keep her down long.”

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

Liam was right. As much as Drake tried to keep her in bed so he could wait on her hand and foot, protect her from the careless friends of the world who could inadvertently do his baby girl harm, and check to see if she needed a new band-aid every few minutes, he could not keep her down. She had been far too excited to hang out with the people she loved so much and celebrate at one of her favorite festivals.

Maxwell had left for the events with Audrey and Patrick an hour ago; they were part of the children’s caroling group and needed to be there early. Against Drake’s wishes, Alyssa showered, got dressed, and made sure he knew in no uncertain terms would he be able to prevent her from going. The only thing he knew to do was to go, follow her around the entire night, and make sure she wouldn’t get shot again.

They circled the block where everything was held several times, but spaces to park were impossible to find. Three blocks away was the church where they attended, and the parking lot was completely empty. Drake didn’t like the fact that Alyssa would have to walk so far in her debilitated condition and was prepared to haul her piggyback style if he had to, but this was the best spot he could find.

Drake moved the gearshift into park and reached over to grab Alyssa’s arm, who was already bounding out the door. He pulled Alyssa back inside, the chilly air blowing through her open door swept her straighten hair this way and that way.

She cocked her head to the side and exhaled, “Drake, I can open my own door. I’m not broken. It’s just a scratch. I’m fine.”

“I know.” He smiled that tenderhearted smile only Alyssa had ever seen. The same one sending a shudder through her already chilled body. “I changed my mind,” he replied simply

Alyssa slammed her eyes shut and groaned. “I just told you I was fine --”

“No, no,” He shook his head. “About having another baby. I want to start trying.”

Saddled with curiosity, she slid back into the truck and shut the door. “But, I thought you said we didn’t have time for that --”

“Yeah, I did say that. I still believe it. But … today made me realize that yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today …”

Alyssa’s hand flew to her mouth as she laughed out loud. Drake gave her a confused look before chuckling awkwardly to himself, “What’s so funny?”

She lowered her hand, still laughing. “You got that saying from a quote on a poster in my classroom. You’re the one who hung it up for me.”

The memory dawned on him, and he lowered his head, attempting to cover the guilty grin that spread over it. “Well, hell. Here I was trying to make you think I was all insightful and smart and stuff.”

Alyssa’s hand splayed across his rugged chest as she leaned over to kiss him.“You are very insightful and smart. You know I never settle for anything less than the best.”

“I s’pose.” he said, forking his fingers through his hair. “But … I guess what I wanted to say was … I know that bullet missed you, barely … but what if it hadn’t? What if I’d left those woods without you today? Just like you were afraid that doe might. Time wouldn’t matter anymore. There will NEVER be enough time with you. You’re my life, Alyssa Claire. You’re my lover, my friend, my heart, my confidante, my soul, my everything … my little peach. I want to experience all that life has given me with you as my wife … and forever make time with you.”

“DRAAAKEY!” she bawled, spreading her tiny arms wide around his bulky body. Alyssa drew him into her so hard it nearly crushed the wind right out of his lungs. “I -- love -- you -- so muuuch!” Drake patted her back and kissed into her hair as she sniveled into his shirt. He hated when she cried, but damn if this didn’t feel good to him. Anytime she was happy made him that way too.

They took a moment to kiss and pet each other a little before Alyssa sat up and asked, “So … when do you want to start trying for a new baby Walker?”

He shrugged. “Whenever you want, baby.”

Alyssa looked through the back window of the truck and scanned the parking lot. She bit her lip and looked back at him impishly. “What about … now?”

Drake’s eyes flew open wide. “In the church parking lot?”

Pursing her lips, she affirmed, “Yes. We’ve done it behind the Piggly Wiggly plenty of times. And let's not forget the ‘Great Ass Blow-out of 2019’ in the Atlanta Convention Center parking garage.”

“I will never forget that.” Drake shook his head as that momentous sexual experience replayed in his mind. “Mmmm, you performed magic that day, woman.”

She raised a brow and coaxed him on, “So? What’dya say?”

Drake took a tentative look around at the dark, empty lot, then back at her. “We’re so going to hell, but I’m in.”

“Eeeeeee,” she squealed, jerking his arm around in excitement. “Try to keep your ass out of the window this time, okay?”

Thirty minutes later, Pastor Hakim pulled into the church parking lot with Mara, the game warden, following behind in her truck. There had been several reports from passerby’s of loud animals howling and screeching behind the church. The stray cat population was out of control in that area, and several cats had burrowed their way inside the church on occasion.

Hakim parked his car, with Mara pulling in beside him. They both got out simultaneously and listened quietly to see if they could decipher where the commotion was coming from.

Within seconds, a load moan roared out, followed by several consecutive whimpers that were hard to make out by the duo.

Mara listened intently, then gestured with her flashlight to an area near the back of the lot where clusters of shrubs and dry brush bordered. Hakim ambled behind her, the noise getting closer and closer until the pastor's brow furrowed at the shaking of a nearby truck.

“Damn, teenagers,” he grumbled as they tipped toed discreetly.

Mara crouched down by the truck's tailgate, Hakim bending over while she duck-walked toward the driver's side door.

The game warden turned to the pastor and instructed, “On my three. 1 -- 2 -- 3.” They both jumped up at the same time, flashing the light inside the cab. “HAHA Caught ya! OH MY GOD!”

Alyssa, who was on top of Drake, completely naked except for the band-aid on her left arm, looked up in utter humiliation and shock. She crossed her arms over her chest to cover her breast, feeling like she might faint. Not knowing what to say at that moment to rectify their actions or why those two were still staring inside the truck, Alyssa smiled sheepishly. “I’m still feeling the spirit, Hakim.”

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

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#drake x alyssa #Liam x Riley #gun usage #hunting

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