#tries lying about his age to get into the military BUT

[sunfuqr]

thinking about the outsiders again

[konigsblog]

mooooore of kidnapper konig lying abt his age!! he’s just obsessed and loves her so much 💔

at your order, anon !! plenty of sickening and disturbing thots™️ plaguing my mind with this concept. :( 🩸

CW: DARK CONTENT. KIDNAPPING, NON-CON/RAPE, AGE DIFFERENCE/GAP, MANIPULATION, VIRGINITY LOSS. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. MDNI 18+

a continuation of fifty-year-old könig who lies about his age to get with a younger woman. 🖥️

it was too easy for the depraved man. you're naive, and your vulnerability is almost laughable. it's as if you haven't learned a thing about internet safety when you decide to meet up with an older man, believing he's in his mid-twenties. 

he's a depraved bastard, a complete loser who hasn't had pussy in nearly a decade due to his disturbing, uncomfortable, manipulative behaviour. the yearn to ruin your body and life intensifying each day.

könig senda you a location—the place he plans to take what is rightfully his. it's a discreet and quiet area, far from civilization. you send könig multiple text messages asking if he gave you the right address, anxious as you take a good look at your surroundings, all alone, or so you think.

too distracted while waiting for a response from the man you'd been talking to and falling for, you didn't pay attention to the sounds of the leaves crunching beneath hard military-issued boots, thumping footsteps becoming louder and louder. your eyes widen, realising it is far too late to react and run. you wail out through horror, attempting to free yourself—a fruitless attempt at prying könig's filthy hands from your body—before you're knocked unconscious by his gloved face.

your vision is hazy and blurry, and you can't see anything as you're awoken. you babble through confusion, realising your sounds are hushed by a ballgag and you're unable to move, the gag stifling your sounds of agony, discomfort, and betrayal. your limbs are tied with thick rope, keeping you from squirming away from his sick and twisted attempt at ‘love’. 

you tremble and thrash, hyperventilating and sobbing out, the feeling of könig rutting against your swollen, slick folds leaving you petrified and unable to comprehend what's happening. you'd told him during your conversations that you were a virgin and that you wanted to lose it to him. the news left könig bubbling with excitement and anticipation, the thought of being your first leaving his fat, meaty cock hard. you were beginning egretting your promise to allow him to take you, his frustration visible at the sounds of your pain, ache, and refusal to be quiet.

könig leans himself down onto you, his heavy bodyweight against your weak body leaving you unable to move and unable to catch your breath. you shake and whine out, wailing pathetically with each drag and thrust, the agonising sensation between your soft, bloodied thighs. he's merciless and violent—nothing like the soft, kind-hearted man he portrayed himself to be.

the entire time he degrades and shames you for being so stupid and ridiculous and for getting yourself into this mess. his large hand around your neck restricts your breathing as you splutter and mumble out a plea for gentleness, at the very least. you notice the wrinkles on his face and the scars along his large, burly, overweight body, looking nothing like the photos he put on his dating app profile. there's nothing you can do to free yourself from this form of hell and torture.

what are you supposed to do afterwards? the rope burns on your skin cause your skin to become sensitive; the slightest touch to the bruises and marks along your body is painful, nipping at your marked skin. your tears stain your gorgeous, pure face, squirming away from his touch when he tries to cup your jaw, the softness of your skin representing your youth, before being bruised with a hit from könig, furious at your resentment. 

you're a quiet, shaken-up, traumatised thing for könig to abuse and use for his own selfish gratification and delectation. the need and crave for power and control and to corrupt and warp a mind like yours, so pliant.

[mrsparrasblog]

I wont pay for your therapy after this🥲

Mrs. MacTavish

Scotland—Johnny's birthplace and the place where he would be laid down permanently. The three men closest to him, the men who saw him die, stood together with his ashes in their hands. It felt surreal for them; of course, they knew something like this could happen. They had all lost a great deal of friends, but this was different. This task force should have been invincible, they should have been better—too good to be killed. But here they were, only three of them.

"Who dares wins. Sleep easy, soldier."

"See you down range, brother. We take it from here."

"Rest in peace, Johnny."

The men spread his ashes; he was finally where he felt at home, at least that's what his friends, his brothers in duty, thought.

They sat together in a rundown pub, unsure how to grieve or how to throw a worthy wake. Price said he didn't have any family left, so they were all he had, and they still failed him.

An order of his favorite whiskey stood on the table they usually occupied.

"He'd love that, he loved this place," Gaz said, trying to reassure his brothers. He now needed to be the glue of the group, the job Soap had before.

"One time, he hit an officer when he was still a rookie. The officer touched a female civilian, and Soap knocked him out. He almost got kicked out of the military, but he didn't press charges—too embarrassing," Price said, earning a slight chuckle from Gaz. Ghost stayed still; he was frozen since the death of his best friend.

"He almost beat my record at the SAS. Made me proud when I saw him in the recruitment," Gaz told them.

"He was the best," Ghost said. His voice sounded monotone; if he didn't have this thick British accent, he would have sounded like a robot.

"He tried to enlist in the SAS several times at 16, lying about his age each time," Price chuckled at the thought of his best trainee.

"He was more than his accomplishments." The other two men looked confused at Ghost; they weren't as close, he knew him better than them.

"Of course, he was, son."

"He had a journal, always drawing each of us, calling us his family. But now, he is dead. We failed him," Ghost said, bringing Gaz and Price down from their attempts to cheer him up and to appreciate Soap's life accomplishments. But he was dead, and nothing would ever change that.

After a while of drinking without speaking a word, Laswell came in, looking at the group of guys sitting down next to them. "Holding a wake for him?" she asked, nipping at the shared whiskey.

"Spread his ashes," Ghost replied shortly.

"You did what?" Her voice was loud; they could see the look of panic on her face.

"What's wrong, Kate? He would love resting in the Highlands."

"Please tell me, John, you didn't spread the whole ash."

"Kate, what's wrong?" Price asked, and she only sighed.

"I'm torn between granting the wishes of a deceased person and betraying his wishes at the same time," Laswell said. The inner conflict was visible in the wrinkles around her eyes.

"Laswell, spit it out!" Ghost shouted at her, the normally calm soldier completely losing control of his emotions.

"His last wish was that someone specific get his body in case of his early demise."

"Bullshit, he had no family left," Gaz replied, confused. His brother wouldn't lie to him about his family.

"Who is this person?" Ghost asked, his expression full of hurt. He wasn't mad like Kyle about the possibility that Johnny lied to them; Johnny was always smarter than the rest of them. He couldn't entertain the possibility that one of his brothers or whoever this person was would die because of his enemies.

"Mrs. MacTavish," Kate muttered under her breath. She promised him before joining the task force that she wouldn't, under any circumstances, tell anyone about her.

"Like his mother?" Kyle asked, and Kate only shook her head.

"He was married?"

"For ten years," Kate sighed.

"I will personally tell her and apologize," Price said. He knew this was the least he could do for him.

"I will tell her," Ghost thought. He needed to do this for his best friend, especially making sure that whoever she was, she would never be found by Makarov and could live a safe civilian life.

"Count me in, Captain," Gaz said, determined to apologize to Soap's wife. Maybe if he had been better, faster, Makarov wouldn't have gotten Soap.

These three men were as different as they could have been; the only thing about them that all of them shared was the guilt.

A few days later

The last days were harder than usual for you; the pregnancy took a toll on you. The worst part was not hearing anything from your beloved Johnny for a long time. You were used to not hearing from him; you knew what you were getting into when you decided to marry him. But you never even thought about making him retire. You loved him since high school. How couldn't you? He was a charmer. He had been in love with you since you both were 6, starting elementary school.

He asked you at least every week if you wanted to marry him when you grew older. You always declined his advances. You were sure that you even hit him once for staring too long at you. He looked like an arrogant ass who could have anyone he wanted, but somehow, he never, not even for a second in his life, thought about another woman. So after some years, you decided to give him a chance, and you never regretted this decision once in your life.

The bell rang, and you were sure it must have been one of the neighbors asking if they could have milk or eggs from the farm. But before you could gather your pregnant body up, your six-year-old son ran up, opening the door. "Maybe it's Dad, Mommy!"

"James William MacTavish, how often did I tell you not to open the door?"

Your son was a spitting image of your Johnny. It got worse when he decided that he needed to cut himself a mohawk to look like his dad. You were so happy to see Johnny's reaction to the mohawk when he came back.

At the door stood three muscular, tall guys looking down at the little boy. As Kyle saw the spitting image of Johnny, he walked to the nearest trash can and threw up. It was too much for him. The thought of a wife was bad enough, but a son too.

You walked down and gathered your son who hugged your thigh. You looked at the men; one of them was a bit older with a funny beard, and the other one was blonde with a scared face.

When Price saw the visible baby bump, his heart broke. The thought of you not only having a son but also being pregnant gave him the rest; his guilt was eating him out.

"Mrs. MacTavish?"

"Yes?" you asked in confusion. They didn't seem like the villagers who wanted to buy something from the farm, nor the parents of your students.

"We need to talk about your husband."

"No," you knew what this meant; you knew it in your gut.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. MacTavish, but your husband died while protecting his country."

You always thought these films were dramatic, but it was nothing compared to what you felt right now. The pain was indescribable; you felt like someone pulled your ground from you, and you fell, completely in shock. Your tears slowly started to roll down, and you saw how the older man held the blonde one back from reaching out to you.

"No, my Johnny, he said he would always come back. He will come back, he will come back to us, he always will," you sobbed uncontrollably.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am."

From behind, Aiofe and Maeve ran down, our oldest, the twins. "Mom, are you okay?" All your three children sat down next to you, afraid that something happened to their mom.

That was the final straw as Ghost saw even more children, his best friend left behind a wife, three children, and a little one on the way. It should have been him.

You sobbed as you spoke to your children, "It's okay, Simon is just kicking hard in my belly, nothing is wrong with Mommy. I love you."

"We love you too, Mommy."

[horrorisunknowntoyou]

Tone indicators.

Simon "ghost" riley x gen reader

Spoilers for MW2, especially the mission 'alone'.

Trigger warnings: gun shot, injuries, self blame and mentioned of childhood abuse.

You were... quiet.

Too quiet in fact.

Through out your whole time being in the military, you kept yourself distant from people. You were highly selective in who you could befriend and trust.

It wasn't your fault you were like this, growing up in abusive, neglected household. And having to be consistently be on alert and deciphering your parents moods etc. It taught you some skills to see through people lies and bluffs. You knew to be observate to every little thing a person does. And if they did one thing you didn't like, you immediately kept your distance away from them.

However as mentioned earlier, there was some downsides in these skills you obtained...it was hard to make friends within people your age.

You would watch other soldiers talk to each other from a distance, laughing, telling stories, family life. And honestly you wanted that...you didn't like being alone but no one liked how you were.

Even yourself.

But that changed when you met a man with a skull mask. Your presence wasn't obvious, you were mostly ignored until something with your speciality came up, like an art kid with a drawing assignment in English class.

But, you soon befriend the quiet man, it took alot of time but he soon put his trust in you. Gently lending a hand to you or sitting next to you without a word and letting you ramble about nonsense.

In all honesty when Simon first saw you, you had this eyes that reminded him of a lost puppy. In which he promptly gave you the nickname K-9. Because of your alertness and observation skills in people. But he mainly just referred to you by name.

And since then you two became inseparable.

You two would be paired in missions at times, sometimes during meetings or small things you would tap on Simon's hand or shoulder to alert him of something. Either they be lying, or something wasn't right.

For example

1 tap = hey, or look

2 tap = be alerted, something not right.

3 tap = this is bad.

4 taps = person is lying.

Etc. You get the jist of it.

So when you two were assigned to the mission of working with Mexican special forces along side soap you didn't bat too much of an eye towards that. But there was something in the back of your head that just didn't feel right.

During this you got to know Alejandro, Soap and others, you had alot of fun joking around and talking to them. They were like family.

And after you guys completed the mission involving the missile, a sense of dread chilled down your spine. Your chest felt heavy, Graves tone felt off...

Something was not right.

How could you not seen this sooner?

We're you blind sided?

Did you second guess yourself?

Ghost gently tapped your hand to see what's wrong as everyone walked to the gate. You quickly grabbed his hand and tapped 3 times.

Graves noticed this as they were in a middle of capturing Alejandro. He pulled out his pistol and shot y/n.

" your too alerted for your own good. " He says firmly almost mocking you.

" Y/N!"

Ghost, immediately grabbed you and hid behind a truck, his palm pressed against your wound. Soap in the other hand, fired back at the shadow company, jumping over the railing and heading down town.

Ghost had to cover your mouth letting you bite down on his thumb due to the pain and to not make any noise. Once the coast is clear he went off the other side of the road.

He went inside one of the homes, setting you down on some kitchen tiles.

"how you hold'n on? " Ghost says at you.

"physically I'm alright, but mentally no." You mumbles, as you went over to a table and with your knife, cut a piece of the fabric off to use a make shift bandage for the time being as Ghost tries to contact Soap.

Once you stop the bleeding, you looked over to Ghost. "Johnny is alive?" He nods, as your peered over to him " Simon...I'm sorry I should have noticed sooner...I'm- I'm so sorry.."

Ghost sighs, "There's nothing for you to be sorry for. Don't blame yourself."

"but-"

"Enough. First thing first, is we meet up with Johnny and figure this out." He lends his hand out to you. " Come on, I don't want to loose you in this"

You nodded and follow his suit, finally getting yourself connected with Johnny.

As you three make yourself unnoticed by the shadow company.

" y/n, how you holding on? " Soap asked.

" fine, for now...Graves didn't shoot any major organs. How about you? "

"messy."

You snickered at his comment, as you made way through a bloodied home, checking for supplies.

" good to know, you can still laugh during times like this" soap commented.

You just rolled your eyes, " what else can I do?"

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

Eventually, you and ghost found an church.

"Tell johnny to meet us here, for now, we need him alive." You gestured.

Ghost nods, " Good idea, I'll take sniper position, I want you on look out, alright? Don't push yourself. "

" aye, aye captain." you playfully salute to him, as you can feel him rolling eyes at that comment.

As Ghost takes position, you kept an eye out, mainly listening to Ghost and Soap's banter. Once an awhile joining in. But soon Soap noticed your speech was off abit.

"Ghost, something is wrong with y/n you need to check on them."

"What?"

" Their speech, it's slurred...sounds like their drunk. It's best to keep them beside you. "

"slurred? Bloody hell. "

Ghost immediately heads down, and grabs you by the shoulders and shake you awake.

" y/n hold on! Johnny is near and I need you awake, this is no place to close your eyes, You hear me?"

You nodded, rubbing your eyes, soon the shadow company started to barge in. Ghost immediately helped you up to your feet.

"we need to hold it down till Soap comes and get a vehicle out of here. Do you think you can hold on till then? "

" yes sir. "

"atta (y/g)," he pats your back " let's get moving, they aren't asking for forgiveness are they? "

You smile, " no sir. "

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

You shot at the shadow company, making your way outside, seeing soap outside the gate steps.

" Ghost! Soap's here! "

Ghost nods, shooting the rest of the shadow company inside, and runs over to some crates and jumps down. As you made over, he catches you and sets you down.

"Soap! We need a vehicle, on me-!" He says as he steps down the wet concrete steps. Running and taking cover, making sure both soap and y/n are following behind.

" stay sharp, they know we're here and they know it's us. They'll send more." Ghost informs soap.

As more of the shadow company appears in the plaza, gunning them down.

As you ran across the plaza shooting at the shadow company, you see a truck up ahead.

" trucks with lights on, up ahead! That's out exfil! " You alerted the other two men. " There's not much space, but I can still fit in the middle! Hurry!"

Ghost, jumps in taking the driver's seat, as soap takes in shotgun.

You never been so glad to be in middle seat for once.

"alright Johnny- you made it..." Ghost says out of breath. You smiled at soap, nodding in agreement tired at this point.

" we made it. L.t..."

soon shots are fired on the truck, glass shattering in the back. Ghost instinctly, cover your head down. Both to cover you and to look behind them as he reverses the truck. Immediately stepping on the gas and hauling ass out there.

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

Once at Alejandro's base, the twos boys, made sure it's safe. Once case was clear, Ghost gestured you to come over.

The two men talked to Rodolfo their plans to break out Alejandro and " los vaqueros".

In the meantime Ghost, tells you to keep watch of the base, and to rest a bit. You needed it.

You wanted to argue but by then you were too exhausted and nodded. Before they leave for the prison break, Ghost walks over to you and pressed foreheads together, his hand on the back of your head.

You smiled as you were laying on a pile of hay.

"Love you too, Ghost I'll be okay.... " Your hands gently pressed against his cheek.

"You worry me too much." He mumbles.

"Of course I do." You mumbles, closing your eyes.

"Rest well. " He gently lets go, and walks out to follows the others outside.

A/n: I'm so sorry if this sucks lmao, but I genuinely tried! I hope you like it either way! :D

[alwaysshallow]

prompt: ghost retired from task force 141. soap takes a journey through their whole relationship, thinking where it went wrong. part 1 of ?

John MacTavish is a brave man.

At least, he likes to think of himself like this. He has proven multiple times that he is brave. First and foremost, he tried to enroll to the SAS a few times; and it wasn't important that every time he was caught lying about his age, it was the fact that he still tried, despite the amused looks on the recruiter's faces. He remembered all of them, including that damn question he had to answer thousands of times: why do you want to be in the army so early?

Stupid question. Question that, every time, he answered with: why not? In his eyes, he was way more mature than most of the boys his age (an obvious lie, he was maybe even less mature), more skilled than them and would make a perfect fit for the army. What was important too, he could stand his ground without any troubles - besides the one, the one that his mother always scolded him about. His mouth was way too honest, causing him many problems.

Thankfully, those problems weren't military ones; men actually dismissed him with a small smile on their face and a reminder that he could "join later" and be useful then. Obvious bullshit, but after some time, John took that seriously and started training on his own to be prepared.

And he was prepared. Still is, due to strict training in military and at bootcamps that he worked his ass off, trying to be the best of the best, trying to be the best sniper, demolitions expert. He thought of every detail, knowing that if he wants to be remembered, he has to be remembered for something good. For something that people will be envious of.

Paid off, since he passed it with the highest marks on all 3 phases; he cursed in his mind at Gaz being a few seconds quicker than him with the record, but he was the youngest to pass the SAS selection in history, so he guessed it was good to give his rival – later best friend – the first place in something.

He was also brave on the missions; he still remembers his first one, even if he has actual two first ones. First one as a soldier, and first one as a Task Force 141 member.

Soldier one was tough. He didn't really know what to expect at first, if he's gonna be more engaging with civilians, or put into the crossfire; and he quickly understood that right in the middle of war, there's no such thing as knowing what's gonna come.

Death, feeling like a failure, trying to bottle everything up for the sake of the mission just to slowly rot inside, if you're not gonna keep up with it. Thankfully, John somehow knew what he was signing up for, so it came easier for him, but he saw guys that didn't make it far as he did.

In moments like this, he is thankful.

Johnny definitely prefers to think of the first mission with the Task Force, though. He waited for the time like this enough to be excited like a kid on Christmas day, jumping around to unwrap all the gifts. For him, gifts were new adventures to get, goals to accomplish, things to prove, since he was the youngest on the team. Price told him that, when he called him, Soap immediately sent his mum a text about the team he became a part of.

He came back home wasted, but it was for a good cause, after all.

For those who know Johnny enough, it isn't a surprise that he remembers everything about his first day. The weather, how he almost thought he's gonna be late for the first meeting because some moron bumped into his car, his nervousness, how he almost vomited, greetings with everyone on the team.

Over time, Kyle Garrick quickly becomes his best friend, and a keeper of secrets that Johnny has. Maybe it's because he's closer to age with him than with others, maybe similar experiences, but he really is someone that he can talk to without feeling any boundaries between them. Even if he is the holder of the record that he felt envious of (for a moment), somehow MacTavish doesn't feel like this anymore, he's more impressed, if it's possible.

Over time, John Price is easily his mentor. Someone that he looks up to, someone that he remembers from his past, when he was only training. A living legend that he wishes to be in the future, and now he's in his team. Johnny knows that if he'd tell anyone from his previous unit where he is, they'd be jealous. And for a reason; Price isn't just some captain that exists, he's a captain that everyone respects, and that's what matters.

Over time, Simon Riley… is still an enigma that Soap wishes to understand more, if it would be even a possibility. It's not – the man speaks less than a monk, wears his skull face all the time so he can't even take a peek at his face (he thinks it is pretty, though), but cracks jokes that usually belong to dads or uncles at weddings. Every time he thinks he knows something about his comrade, it collapses right in the moment.

No matter how MacTavish tries to talk with him longer, no matter how he nudges him so he sends him judgy looks, it's not enough. He's not the problem, he knows, Ghost is like this to everyone, but somehow that infuriates him even more, since he always found a way.

To everyone, and yet somehow isn't adding.

First serious interaction, where Soap can feel like he cares, happens where Graves betrays them and he's on the run. It feels like playing with death, after being shot in the arm, after feeling like he's on his own. After feeling like something that he finally had control of, it turned into ashes really fast. They weren’t even comrades for that long, they had so many things to live through together, and—

"Johnny, how copy?"

His heart nearly skips a beat when he hears that. Suprassing a groan of pain, he moves his arm a little; it fucking hurts, but it's good. Nerves are still there. "Missed my ass, LT?"

He hears scoff on the other side of the line. "You're the only one I can trust right now, sergeant. Thought you're dead in the ditch somewhere."

He knows It's probably better to ignore that warm feeling in his chest. "Never."

Everything after this, feels like a video game that he likes to play from time to time, not real life. Trying to get to church, trying to survive while Shadow Company is hunting not only his ass, but also Ghost's – and on Johnny's mind is also Alejandro. Is he alive?

He has many questions, and no one to actually answer him, but having Simon on comms somehow eases his mind, especially when he serves all those dad jokes. For the first time, it's Soap that doesn't know what to tell him, he is the one who speaks less, and it feels like a good break from the usual routine.

Surely, it would be even better if the conditions of the whole banter would be a little… calmer, without anyone on their back, but he had to cherish what he has. He supposes it won't last long, probably after everything will be right he'll get back to his usual, grumpy self, but it's the thought that counts.

John is quite pleased to see that he was wrong, when they're in the bar, after a mission; Task Force 141 back together, as well as members of Los Vaqueros back in Las Almas. Thoughts about how he would want to stay there for a longer time to help flood all over him, until the seat next to him cracks under Ghost's weight.

Soap bites his tongue before he says a joke about this. Bad habit, but he learned the hard truth over the years that sometimes he needs to shut up, especially if he cares about having his relationships in check. And, to be honest, he don't want to upset his lieutenant after he was so… caring for him.

"Everything's good, LT?" He tilts his head, observing how Simon sips his whiskey without even frowning at the strongness of the alcohol; couldn't be him.

"Tired, MacTavish," he replies, eyeing him up and down; lazily, like he doesn't really have the power to do this, but he wants to. At least, Soap thinks this way. It's a giddy feeling. "Your arm?"

"My arm?" he fires the question right back, without much thinking about it. Riley's one look gets him back to shape, and he suddenly knows what he was asking about. "Eh, 's… good. Hurts still, but should be good. Doctor told me 's nothin' too serious and—"

"—Why you thought 'm not gonna help you?" Ghost interrupts him.

It's not harsh like usual, when Johnny blabbers too much, and irritates his lieutenant with information that doesn't need to be said out loud. This one feels like a genuine question that he thought of for a while, and it makes sergeant all tingly inside.

Weird; because why Simon needs to know this? Does it bother him that Scot felt like he wouldn't help him, and he'd die on the streets like a dog? Or, worse: be tortured by Shadow Company, then he would eventually die, if Graves would feel generous enough.

"It's…" he gulps. His grasp around glass tightens, he doesn't even realize that only ice is left here, when he plays with it. "You didn't have to. Situation was rough, everythin' blew the fuck up. Wouldn't blame ya if you would leave me, happens."

Guy with the skull balaclava hums, like he gets his way of thinking. For a few seconds, there's an awkward silence between them, chatter from other people and music being the only sound. "We're a team, Johnny. Not gonna let you die on me anytime soon, do you hear me?"

He nods, but it's not enough for Simon. Johnny almost squeaks, when he grabs his chin unexpectedly, forcing him to look into his brown eyes. Dark, darker than the beer that he's currently drinking. "What the—"

"—do you hear me, sergeant?"

It takes all in his will not to kiss him, but Johnny knows that's not the situation like in the movies he watched with his sister; not like the movies, where the main character is adored by a silent, grumpy guy just because he loves them. That's just another situation with his lieutenant who should really seek therapy to talk better with people that he cares about because grunting out answers ain't really the way.

Johnny at least thinks he cares about him a little. He wants him to. "I do hear."

"Good."

And this is how the whole story gets interesting. Tracing Makarov, figuring out what they should do about Shepherd being an asshole, but first and foremost, interacting as a team. As Task Force 141.

[batwritings]

Kinktober Day 8 - Fancy Dress

Full circle back to dad Price! Enjoy!~

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

How you had been talked into this, you had no innate idea. You were never one for fancy get-ups; you didn’t do well in front of people, and dressing in just about anything that wasn’t issued to you by the military felt…odd. But here you were, surrounded by soft lighting, piano music, and a sea of tuxedos and ball gowns.

There was one upside to this all of course; you weren’t alone. All but Ghost, naturally for privacy reasons, were just as gussied up as you were. Soap had tried so hard to talk Laswell out of making him get fitted for his tux, but she gave him that signature look that nobody could tell her no on.

The best of all though, had to be your dear Captain. John Price was a classy man to begin with, but wow did he know how to clean up. His facial hair was neatly trimmed, not as scraggy from what you were used to seeing on the battlefield. In general, he was just as attractive covered in soot and rubble as he was dressed to the nines. 

He caught you looking several times throughout the night, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been blushing each time you tore your eyes away. There’s no way he knew…right? Granted, a fancy gig like this could be just as dangerous as the battlefield, but…no, there was no way.

“Y/N! Having a good time my friend?” You heard, suddenly. Nikolai was clapping his broad hand down onto your shoulder, cheery as can be. Your whole body jumped as you were ripped from your reverie so abruptly.

“Y-yeah, it’s…” You fought with you frazzled mind for a good answer before sighing in defeat. “I’m so shit with social gatherings like this Nik. I think I might turn in for the night.” You rubbed the back of your neck nervously; fancy parties weren’t something you signed up for when you agreed to join the task force.

“I believe the Captain has been feeling the same,” Nik said, somewhat sadly. “He has never been one for parties or big crowds. You two share that in common.”

“Huh…” you mumbled, more to yourself than to the big Russian man with you.

“You know…he could probably use a hand finding his jacket,” came Nik’s voice again. “He’s getting up in age and all you know.” You laughed softly and thanked the pilot before wandering off. As he watches you go, Nikolai doesn’t miss another figure sauntering up beside him.

“Think they’ll finally get together?” Laswell asks, a confident smirk on her face. Her and Nikolai had been trying to get you and Price together for some time now. Tonight they had tried multiple times, sadly in vain. This was their final opportunity.

“I don’t see why not,” Nik responded. “The coat closet is a rather small space. But plenty of space for them to work out their…unresolved tensions.” Slowly, so as not to make himself known, the Russian man began to follow you, hidden behind the crowds as you finally caught up to the captain and yourself. “Sorry to squeeze in with you Cap,” you chuckled, sliding into the coat room alongside Price. Your body was so close to his is was nearly suffocating. You could smell his cologne plain as day, trying not to get distracted as he told you it was fine. 

The silence was excruciating until the captain spoke up. “Saw your eyes wandering quite a bit tonight,” Price mused, no longer looking for his suit jacket. He was watching you carefully out of the corner of his eye, waiting for your reaction. “Fancy me in a suit do you? Don’t lie to me now.”

Your hand froze as you actually managed to find Price’s jacket. Had he really been paying that much attention. “I…” you swallowed the lump in your throat and cleared it harshly before you answered. “I’d be lying if I didn’t Captain. You clean up well.”

“As do you,” you nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard Price’s voice so close. “But these penguin suits are getting a bit old yeah? I say we do away with them.” You were frozen in shock, but didn’t dare stop him 

You couldn’t help the pleased shiver and you felt your captain’s rough hands slip beneath your dress shirt to touch you. You bit your lip harshly to muffle your moan as you felt one hand rub over your nipple while the other slips beneath the waistband of your slacks and underwear. Your hips bucked forward the moment his calloused fingers make contact with your sex, a harsh exhale ripping from your throat.

“Shh, pup,” Price hushes, kissing along your neck. His facial hair tickles as much as it burns along your skin in the most pleasant way. “Good god you’re eager. I’ll have to get dressed like this more often hmm?” You can’t help but nod as you lean into his touch, your ass grinding against his clothed member.

“That’s it sweetheart,” And there’s that growled praise that made your knees weak. “Being so good for me, so good and quiet while everyone outside this room is none the wiser.” His words turned your bones to jelly, spun through your mind. 

Between that, the warm breath along your neck, and the pleasure revolving around your sex, you literally couldn’t hold the flood gates closed. Your climax had your knees buckling as you moan out against Price’s hand. Strong arms held you close and helped you to the floor, despite the man’s eager member still erect against your ass. 

“Very good Y/N, very good,” your captain praised, sliding his hand out from near your sex. “Take some nice deep breaths, I’ll find my jacket, and we’ll continue this somewhere more…secluded, yeah?” You nod, barely comprehending his words. You raise a shaky hand to point behind the both of you to where you had seen the man’s jacket last. Price chuckles softly. 

“Thank you sweetheart, this fancy dress is more trouble than it’s worth.”

[dawnisdreamlanding]

Chapter 4

Ghost x Reader x Konig

Neighbor!au and Roommate!au

About me | Masterlist |

Author's note: Hey!! my 3 month hiatus is finally over!! I finally have time to write hahahasdf I hope you guys like this chapter :) Lmk if you wanna get added into the taglist.

Truth be told, Konig could have come back home to you ages ago. But ever since his mission ended a month ago, he’s chosen the stiffness of his military bed over the softer, more appropriately sized bed that’s waiting for him at home. Why, you may ask? Well, it might have something to do with the way the blood of his enemies still cling onto him no matter the amount of times he’s tried to scrub it off and the thought of your horrified face when you find out that it was him who spilled their blood.

It’s a foolish thought to think that a man like Konig could live a normal, civilian life. He’s a battering ram made for the battlefield, and he’ll be that way for the rest of his life. He looks over at his desk which is nearly free of any reports. He’s been trying to find every excuse he can to not go back to your apartment, but it’s the promise he made with you to watch that stupid, stupid show of yours that finally gets him packing to go home.

—

You’ve never been so glad to hear that familiar long tired sigh that only your roommate makes. You practically rush out of the kitchen, dishes forgotten and greet him. “Konig!” you say with a smile. You excitedly stand in front of him, but you know better and keep your hands to himself. He’s never really been a big fan of touch since day one, and you swore to yourself to respect his boundaries, no matter how excited you may be to see him after so long.

So you’re very much surprised when Konig was the one to actually hug you first. His strong arms wrap around you, holding you close and tight, making sure you couldn’t run away — so much so that you couldn’t even lift your arms to hug him back. You don’t ask questions, you don’t pry into his private life, waiting patiently until Konig is the one who tells you about his life. It’s one of the qualities he likes about you so much. You don’t pry into his life yet somehow have the capability to care for him somewhat endlessly.

He takes a long, deep breath and it feels like half of his burdens have been lifted from his body when he exhales, the same way you drop a heavy bag after coming home from a long trip. He doesn’t let go of you for quite some time.

While Konig wishes he could be in the moment and enjoy this small comfort he has  in his bloodshed-filled life, he is stuck in his own head. How would you react if he told you the nature of his job? Would you push yourself away from him right now? Would you be so disgusted, you’d tell him to never come near you ever again? Konig would understand why.

His fingers press against the cotton material of your cloud sweater you’re wearing as an effort to ground himself. The feeling of your soft sweaters, the way his arms wrap around your body so easily, would he lose all of this? Would “Ko” cease to exist? 

It is then that he decides not to tell you — not quite yet, anyway. Call him selfish all you want, but he wants to keep you around and hug you a little more. Spend a couple more nights laughing about dumb characters in pointless shows and watching you eat his cooking after you come back from work. Just a little more of those moments before you slip away from his grasp.

—

The smell of butter melting on bread that wafts into your room wakes you up. You opened a bottle of red wine last night -- a Pinot Noir -- to celebrate him coming home after a long 3 months. He politely declined it when you had offered a glass to him, saying that he didn’t drink. Which struck you as odd, because you swore you remember seeing a can of beer lying in the trash the last time he was home.

You don’t remember much of anything that happened after you downed the 4th glass of red wine but hey, at least your head wasn’t pounding. You pull the blanket off you and you realize that you’re still wearing yesterday’s clothes. The bed creaks as you get up and can be heard all the way from the kitchen. “Maus?” Konig calls out.

You show yourself in the kitchen not long after, and he serves you bread rolls with butter and strawberry jam. “I eat this when I was young.” He opens up as he places the plate in front of you. You realize that Konig has opened up more to you in the last 24 hours than he has since you first met him, but you aren’t complaining.

“It’s good.” You say. It’s simple bread and butter, quite literally. Not much Konig could’ve gotten wrong anyway. He seemed nervous as he watched you take that first bite but after your comment, he lights up. “I’m glad.” He says. It takes him a moment to snap out of it, but he sits down opposite of you and he begins eating his own share of the bread rolls.

You can’t help but stare at him in slight wonder, watching him slip the bread rolls under his hood to eat them. “Does it ever get hard to breathe?” Konig freezes momentarily at the question and he thinks that maybe you’ve caught on to the monster he truly is. But after a short moment of silence, you motion to his hood and it all makes sense.

He looks at you; truly looks at you. A little bit of strawberry jam smeared on the left corner of your mouth, a sweeter shade of red than the usual blood he sees on the field. “Sometimes.” He answers with a subtle hint of a secret meaning that he doesn't dare utter. You continue eating but he can't help but stare at you. 

He leans forward and his thumb swipes the jam off your face, leaving you a little stunned and a little embarrassed. The jam on his thumb is the same color as the blood on the battlefield but with you in the frame, it isn't blood; it’s a peaceful breakfast eating bread rolls and jam with you on a Sunday morning.

Taglist: @gojo-mochi @itsthealice @multifamdom-lover3 @sleepyoriana

[sunlightdances]

Stay (Dean Winchester x OFC)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Original Female Character Rating: PG-13 for swearing and mentions of sex. Summary: Dean and Avery have a two-night stand, and after that weekend, they go their separate ways. They never expected to see each other again, but the universe has other plans. A/N: Guys, where do I even begin? It’s been ages. I miss you. I see your messages, your likes, your reblogs. Thank you. Here’s this. I wrote a lot of it on my phone, so bear with me if there are typos.

It just goes like this, doesn't it?

One night where the both of them could let go of expectations, of being who the universe was making them be. One night.

But just like they knew they didn't have a choice but to be who the universe wanted them to be, they should have known the universe would pull the absolute worst April Fool's Day prank of all time.

They gape at each other, minds racing as images of tangled sheets, open mouths, and moonlit smiles come flooding back.

The task at hand doesn't let them linger too long.

She's firing with military precision, and he's right there with her, sweat dripping down his jaw as he reloads round after round, wondering if the universe put them both here to die together.

But then Sam shows up, like he always does. He saves them both, and the three of them save the day.

It takes longer for Dean to work up the courage to look her in her eyes. He feels-- he feels ashamed somehow, that he let her go that rainy Sunday morning.

There was never an argument or anything. They both just knew it was time. She had said she had to catch a flight and get back to work, and he lied and told her he had to do the same thing.

They had two nights of connection, of passion, but also of affection. He told her things he never told anyone. They spent a Saturday night fully clothed, eating take out straight from the containers in a hotel's king-sized bed. He felt comfortable with her like he hadn't felt with anyone in years.

And yeah, it sucked when she left. He sort of hoped there'd be a knock on the door saying she missed her flight, but he wasn't sad. They both knew what they were signing up for when they met at the bar that Friday night, eyes only for each other.

Still, he thinks he's remembered her kiss every day since.

He still thinks no one has ever touched him like she did.

So, yeah, he's a little angry and flustered when he sees her here, because she said she worked in marketing or some bullshit, and while he didn't expect her to be totally truthful with a stranger, this is a little too coincidental to be believed.

She bats his hands away when he offers to help her bandage a big scrape on her leg, and he tries not to make a face at the rejection. He's very aware of Sam watching him closely, but he has no idea what to say.

There's no point in lying about knowing her. He told Sam that he had spent a weekend with a woman the day he came home from his impromptu trip, but that it was nothing special, nothing but some no strings attached fun.

Turns out Dean might be the one who had a few strings.

.

Her face feels like it's on fire. Her game plan so far is just to refuse to speak to him, but that feels a bit stupid given the situation they just found themselves in.

Jesus Christ, but he couldn't have said he was Dean Winchester when they met? To be fair - she didn't give a lot of details about herself either. They didn't even really talk about work except when she said there was no way she could stretch her trip into one more day. She had to work.

(She lied about work just like he did, but that's neither here nor there)

She just never thought she'd still be thinking about him months later, much less seeing him in person. In the middle of a hunt.

She did have a real job. She wasn't lying about that. Her work for the FBI is very, very, VERY top secret. Fringe Division has been practically dead for years, but ever since the almost-apocalypse (she supposes she has Dean to thank for that, too), their work is more important than ever.

She was just supposed to be doing field work. Recon. She was never supposed to get involved, but here she is, trying to put a bandage on herself in the middle of the woods.

She can’t stop herself from watching his hands, remembering when they traced every inch of her skin and made her gasp and writhe and the way in the next breath they’d find a ticklish spot and make her laugh.

It’s just all so unbelievable.

Sam is the one to break the ice, which feels inevitable. “So. Anyone want to explain this?” He gestures between her and Dean.

Dean’s jaw clenches. For a moment she feels frustrated because why is he angry? They parted mutually. They both told lies and half truths and let themselves escape in high thread count sheets and each other.

She thrusts out her hand. The one not currently covered in blood. “Avery Harper.”

“Avery.” Sam repeats.

“Technically it’s Special Agent Avery Harper, but I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Dean chokes out a laugh, but it’s a little bitter. Avery’s smile doesn’t meet her eyes.

“I think we have a lot of catching up to do,” she suggests. “Food?”

She turns and heads toward her car before anyone says anything else. She hears a whispered argument, an exasperated sigh, and then finally the sound of footsteps on the crushed gravel. A hand grabs her elbow a moment later, then releases her like she’s on fire.

“We look like shit.” Dean’s voice is gruff. “Pizza at our place instead.”

The drive to their place is pleasant, at least. She struggles to keep up with Dean’s car, but she suspects he’s doing it on purpose so she lets him. He’s never truly out of her sight. She uses the time to try to work her way out of this, but decides there’s no point.

The only thing she needs to do is make them understand she’s not trying to take over their turf and that she has no interest in arresting them, and hope that they hear her out.

She follows along a long dirt driveway. The building looks rundown from the outside, but she trusts them. Trusts Dean.

Inside, she’s not ashamed of the way her mouth falls open as she takes in the gleaming tiles and smooth wood. The place is incredible.

“The inner sanctum?”

“Something like that.” Dean mutters, brushing past her. They both pause at the contact.

“I’m going to…. order pizza”. Sam says, quickly making himself scarce.

She and Dean stand there in the fading sunlight streaming in through a nearby window, and the light catches on his eyes. He’s hurt. She can see that, and she does feel guilty. Even though they were both doing the same thing, she’s realizing now that he probably would have loved to know he was completely understood.

That night, even though she didn’t know who he was, she felt a connection that was deeper than attraction. Now she knows why.

“I didn’t know who you were.” She says, hands tightening at her sides.

“How is that possible?”

“Not every agent is out to get you.”

He smirks. “Most of my interactions with the feds say the opposite.”

She exhales.

He rubs a hand over his face. The sound of his stubble scratching against weathered palms takes her back to a warm bed, a feeling of being so cocooned with someone else she couldn’t tell where he ended and she began.

“Is Avery even your real name?” He asks, voice rough.

“Yes.”

A beat. “Marketing?”

She can’t help but laugh. “I didn’t know what to say!”

“You could have bragged about having a badass job.”

She’s surprised, but tries not to show it. “So could you.”

He shrugs. “Wanted to… shed it.”

“Me too.” She admits softly.

This time when he meets her eyes, his are vulnerable, a dark green that leaves goosebumps on her arms. “I—“ he stops himself. She wishes he wouldn’t. He changes tactics. “Let me take a look at that arm.”

“It’s alright-“

“Ave. Let me.”

A shortened version of her name hits her right in the gut. It’s familiar, intimate in a way she hadn’t been expecting. “Okay.” She relents.

.

He can’t take his eyes off her.

He was angry for a minute, he felt off guard, off kilter, but now that she’s in front of him he can’t bring himself to hold a grudge. He’s just happy to see her.

The FBI.

What a fucking day.

She doesn’t tell him much about why she was hunting, how she knew about the fight he and Sam were in on, how she showed up right when they did and where any of her intel came from.

They’ve always known that someone somewhere in the feds had an inside track, and it always bothered him. But because it’s her, he can’t find it in himself to be angry.

He thinks of the way she didn’t hesitate, just set up shoulder to shoulder with him and aimed her weapon like she’d be damned if anyone or anything tried to get close to the Winchesters.

He’s pretty amazed by her, he’s got to admit. She’s everything he’s ever wanted wrapped up in the most beautiful package, and that’s what makes him pause. Because he’s never allowed to have good things for long.

In his bathroom he inspects her wounds, uses the excuse to crowd her a little bit, inhales the familiar scent of citrus and vanilla that follows her like a cloud.

If she notices she doesn’t say anything and he’s grateful.

Her hand fits just so in his.

“Thank you.” She says eventually.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“Dean—“

He looks up, sees her eyes uncertain, a little wild.

She kisses him before he can take his next breath. It sends heat sizzling up his spine, electricity crackling in the space between them.

It’s exactly how he remembers it, and somehow more. More because they’re truly themselves now, no secrets between them.

His hands are in her hair. Hers are tight on his hips, digging in, a desperation in her touch that he's relieved to feel, proof that he isn't the only one feeling this way.

When the need for air is too much, they wrench apart, gasping. Her mouth goes to his neck, and his lips find her forehead, and he can't do this again. He can't pretend.

"Wait. Avery, wait."

Her eyes are unfocused when she looks at him. "Sorry--"

He shakes his head. "Don't be. I-- god, I wanted that. I just... it's too much. I can't."

"I've thought about this for months." She admits, and his eyes slide shut.

"Don't tell me that."

"It's the truth." When he opens his eyes again, her smile is sad, but there's a bit of hope there too, and it makes his heart pick up speed. "I didn't want to go, that morning. I wanted to give you my number, I wanted to see you again."

"I did too. I wanted you to come back."

"It feels cursed, Dean." She says quietly. "This-- this is all too much of a coincidence."

He nods. "I know. But-- is that so bad?" He leans close, lips at her temple. Can't stop touching her. "Can't we just give ourselves something to be happy about?"

"We do have a lot to fill each other in about." She agrees, words sounding more like a moan in the quiet room.

"Stay." His voice is hoarse. "Stay with me. We'll figure it all out after."

He's tired of denying himself things he wants, things that make him happy. And if all the decisions he's made over the last few months, every thought and every choice have lead him right back here to her, then who is he to question it?

She stays.

[asphyxiatedredherring]

Ok, so the Stone triplets, I have a lot to say.

Jacob Stone was raised by their biological father Isaac Stone. Stone being all of their original last names (I'll get to the name changes later). I think their biological mom died which is what caused the separation of the brothers. I'd say this happened at an age in which they remember their mom and growing up together, but still young enough to have spent some of their childhood apart. Isaac Stone is known to be an alcoholic and deadbeat, I'd also argue abusive so he separated the twins, keeping only Jacob, the most agreeable of the three who he thinks he can make carry on the family business.

Alex was taken in by his uncle Danny as stated in s1e7. Danny says his folks couldn't take care of him anymore and left Alex with him. Alex was subsequently raised in a life of crime, lying, cheating, and stealing. I think Danny is their mom's brother and Isaac dumped Alex off onto him and Alex changed his last name to Walker to match Uncle Danny's.

Although Eliot says he was dropped at a hopital as a baby and then adopted by Billy, I think this is a lie and Eliot came to them when he was older after the death of his biological mother. I believe the Spencer's found Eliot in the hospital in Oklahoma, where both the Stones and Billy lived and took him in from there. Eliot then changed his name to his adoptive parents. We can assume the house in Oklahoma City that Eliot visits and doesn't get an answer at in The Low Low Price Job is Billy's. In The Bucket Job, Eliot has a contact in his phone labeled Dad (Billy) and "J." He is shown to text J so it can be assumed that Eliot and Jacob have had a little bit of contact, but Eliot says that he hasn't had contact with his Dad since he was 18. Now we don't actually know that Spencer is Billy's last name. It could be an alias Eliot used after leaving the military and becomes a little less than legal in his activities. Billy's last name could be Carson (Eliot is seen wearing a Carson Hardware shirt, and we know Billy had a hardware store). This could make Eliot's legal last name Carson.

(Sorry, there is a lot more)

When Eliot was 18, he enlisted in the military and left. I think this is what stopped the contact between him and Jacob, and contact between Alex and the other two decreased and eventually stopped as Alex was with Uncle Danny.

In the Miracle Job Eliot mentions having a nephew. This could imply another sibling whither biological or adoptive, or that Evelyn Walker is trans and Eliot didn't know.

Eliot goes through his time in the military, then as a hitter and retrieval expert, his time with Moreau, and then eventually with Leverage. Alex gets married and has a daughter, becomes a well known DEA agent and eventually divorced and ends up in the Philippines. Alex works for Isaac Stone for a bit while amassing secret degrees eventually leaving the family business under the guise of working a similar job somewhere else when he is working for The Library.

Eliot hears about Alex's DEA fame through the crime grapevine and Alex catches wind of the notorious Eliot Spencer whom he suspects is his brother but can't seem to ever find enough information on to confirm. They however do not have contact. Eliot finds out about Jacob working for the Metropolitan Library as an art historian after Jacob gains the confidence to publish under his own name through Sophie who admires his work and would love to con him. This prompts the first contact since they were 18 from Eliot (with the help of Hardison's computer skills but Eliot asked Hardison not to ask questions). Eliot also establishes Jacob off limits as a mark for Sophie with no context.

Eve Baird knows about DEA legend Alex Walker. As previously mentioned, Sophie knows about Jacob Stone as an art historian. Sophie and Maggie die and pester Eliot once they find out he knows thee Jacob Stone, Dr Oliver Thompson, and all the other aliases Jacob has published under. Read more in another wonderful Stone Triplets post here.

Now, there are options about how this reconnection could go. A combo of a con and clippings book quest in the Philippines leading to Alex. Or a vacation in Portland for our Filipino friends where they and the LITs end up in the Portland brew pub (since that's where the annex is). Or they finally decide to reach out to each other.

I'm team Eliot decides he wants to reach out, especially after reconnecting with Billy and texting a bit with Jacob. So they all meet in a neutral location. Obviously, they bring their found families with them. And oh dear, it's Bisexual Disaster Polycule³. Kai and Ernesto are terrified to find out there are two more Alex's but they are actually cool, they are however trying to actively ignore the not quite legal business Alex's gruff looking brother Eliot seems to have going on. They've heard stories about The Eliot Spencer, but Alex trusts him, so they will too. Mostly. Ezekiel can not believe he is meeting THE Parker. And it's stealing for a good cause! He wants to work with Leverage immediately. Cassandra is so excited to meet Jacob's family (especially since meeting Isaac didn't go very well). She and Hardison are stoked to pick each other's brains. Jacob assures Eve that it's ok to tell his brothers the truth. Parker, Breanna, and Hardison both die a little upon finding out about the existence of magic. They all three have a billion and one questions and Breanna practically begs for an apprenticeship under Jenkins, wanting to learn more about the back door and his other inventions. (Jenkins decided best not to share his true identity for avoidance of the endless questions bound to erupt). The Filipino trio try not to think too hard about the magic stuff. Jacob is lightly concerned about the art theft, but he Sophie and Maggie immediately set up a brunch. Jacob and Ernesto talk martial arts, and Eliot compliments both of their styles. Alex and Parker talk about being raised in crime. Alex is amazed that he's the one who was raised in lying and stealing, but it's the other two brothers who do that now. Jacob is very offended and insists he is not a thief and that retrieving dangerous artifacts is not theft. When they part ways and Alex goes back to his gift shop, he is surprised to find out from Corey that rent has been paid for several months in advance. Also, upon meeting, it was noted of the stark similarity between Harry and Flynn only to find out that Flynn is Harry's estranged, eccentric cousin. What a small world.

They chat, they catch up on eachothers lives, and they agree to keep in touch. For real this time. They plan to spend holidays together, combining the three found families into a chaotic but loving mess.

It should also be noted that I haven't seen Angel yet, but Lindsay is a cousin. They also have a weird cousin from Texas named Lee Webb. Back to when I mentioned that we don't know that Spender is Billy's last name. Eliot could have taken inspiration from a family member with the last name Spencer. (It could be his mom if she and her brother Danny Walker have different last names or another family member). Thereby connecting Shawn Spencer to be a cousin. The thought of him at a family reunion with Eliot, Jacob, and Alex is too funny to ignore. Especially when you remember Parker's thing about psychics and how much Sophie would absolutely adore the long con game on the SBPD.

[paeliae-occasionally]

Character Intro!

Thanks for the tag @theink-stainedfolk

I have done this for Xaeren here so this time we are doing Marsh.

Marsh

Name: Marsh Atyros

- Nickname: None

- Age: 27

- Sex: Male

- Appearance: He is tall with short silver white hair and an elated smile that is terrifying to anyone who knows him. Unlike his brother Daimion, he has very few scars and even fewer are visible. He is very strong with semi-muscular arms which have much more useable strength than is visible. He is also strangely flexible and double jointed so he can do that thing where you only bend the first section of your fingers down while the rest of the finger is straight. Dai always hated it when he did that.

- Occupation: Incarcerated. About to escape to have a fun wander around the countryside with his brother. (Dai does have more of a goal)

- Family Members: His mother is still alive but he hasn’t spoken to her since she sent them to join the military. He never really knew his dad, only that he left when marsh was young. He has a brother Daimion, who might be the only life he values at this point.

- Pets: None.

- Best Friends: Daimion. He also knows a few people in prison well enough to not kill them, but that doesn’t really count.

- Describe his room: Well his prison room is maximum security so just a toilet, a bed and a sink and his knives. (They have struggled to take them off him, but it always ends up with a too many dead prison guards for them to justify trying again.)

- Way of Speaking: He speaks playfully and honestly. He doesn’t like lying, it is a moral boundary for him, he never lies if he can avoid it. Marsh is actually the happiest character I have written in a long time and speaks with that joy.

- Physical Characteristics (Posture, Gestures, Attitude): He stands straight and never sits on chairs correctly, always lounging in positions that look incredibly uncomfortable but he assures you it is much better than just sitting normally. His military training shows in his natural posture but he actively tries to move away from that, preferring instead to move fluidly.

- Items in his Back Pocket/Purse: A butterfly knife to spin dramatically, a larger pair of knives for actually fighting, and a stiletto knife for vibes. (This was taken from him when he was sent to jail but as soon as he gets out, he acquires a new one)

- Hobbies: He exercises, a couple of murders here and there, he throws knives, spins a butterfly knife, is altogether bored and tries to provoke the guards outside his cell in any way possible. This has included singing to them.

- Favourite Sports: Well knife throwing is a sport… still deciding whether he has guns. Probably yes.

- Abilities/Talents/Powers: Marsh is built to be deadly. He takes life without regret, and greatly enjoys the process. As such he has a lot of practice from a life of killing lawfully in the military then a life of killing illegally when he was kicked out. He is very good at it.

- Relationships (How they are with other people): He is very loyal to Dai and deeply cares for him but is adamant that just embracing the psychopathic tendencies will help, Dai does not agree.

- Fears: Dai being overcome by guilt.

- Faults: None <3 (He is overconfident and stubborn)

- Good Points: He is loyal, honest and very talented with a variety of weapons. He also has a long memory.

- What they want more than anything else: Life to continue as it is, preferably with Dai at his side.

Tagging @drchenquill, @saturnine-saturneight, @tildeathiwillwrite, @phoenixradiant, @thecomfywriter

[xxsp3llb0undxx]

Blast from the past

Tommy Miller x Lost Lover!Reader [5.2k]

Disclaimer: Please do not repost my work to other sites or claim as your own, this is purely written from my imagination and from the help of the series. All rights of the main storyline goes to the writers and producers of The Last Of Us.

Summary: Tommy and reader were together way before the apocalypse, they were high-school sweethearts. When the cordyceps had begun to spread through the world, Y/n was on her way back to Texas after being gone for a few years, only to face the hard reality of the world turning upside down. Never knowing if Tommy ever came home or even looked for her.

WARNING: GORE ,, BLOOD ,, INFECTED ,, LOSS ,, MENTIONS OF DEATH ,, HEARTBREAK ,, SWEARING ,, PANIC ATTACK ,, MAJOR FLUFF

A/N - Listened to my 60s-70s playlist while writing this, highly recommend doing that when you're writing something set around an apocalyptic event, for some reason the music always pairs well with dystopian fics ??

MASTERLIST TLOU

Tommy, Joel and Y/n had all grown up together, went to the same schools and even lived a couple houses away from each other. Once Y/n and Tommy had hit high-school, they started to change; growing more mature. They were in sophomore year when Tommy had found the courage to ask Y/n to be his, he knew she was the one for him but the fear of never being enough always stopped him from telling her but then he did and it was the best decision Tommy ever made. Their relationship was the best it could be at their age, until Tommy left for the Army once they had finished high-school.

Y/n was alone for awhile, Joel checked up on her from time to time but he couldn't do it as often as he was a new dad and all that. Y/n had left Texas when Sarah had turned 4, two years after Tommy had been drafted, she thought it was for the best to leave this life behind and start anew. So off she went to Kansas City, she put herself through college, juggling 2 jobs just to keep herself afloat. Joel would send her pictures of Sarah every month, sharing the memories of their father-daughter bonding, what hurt Y/n the most was - there was no mention of Tommy in the couple years of her moving to another state, it was like he vanished. She wondered if he was doing well, if he had found someone who made him happy, if he ever thought of her.

It had been 12 years since Y/n had seen Tommy, no letters from him or even a fucking call. She tried to push away every memory she had of him, every joke he told her, every kiss they had shared. She wanted to forget about him because if she didn't, she would lose herself completely and that wasn't an option. Everyday was the same - wake up, shower, eat, work, sleep and repeat. It was infuriatingly boring. Y/n missed the light in her life, the enjoyment. So she went back home to Texas, maybe visiting Joel and Sarah would satisfy the loneliness following her around. She had packed her bags and put them in the trunk, it was around 12 in the afternoon when she headed off to Texas. When she had reached the state border checkpoint into Texas, it was blocked off by military trucks; the soldiers shouted out to those trying to cross - "Please get back in your vehicles and turn around, it is not safe here."

It all happened in a instant, the sky looked as if it were ablaze. Cars and trucks turned over, half blown up, smoke coming out of every crevice. There was chaos everywhere, the roads were jam-packed with abandoned cars, infected ripping apart anything with a pulse. Screams and cries all around, the noise making everything more nightmarish. The streetlights flickered, as if they were sending a message through Morse code - a plea for help. The streets of downtown Texas were dark, there was no one left for the cordyceps to infect; they had either ran off and tried to find shelter from this never-ending doom or they had met the same fate as those sprawled on the floor, lying in pools of their own blood and guts.

Y/n had finally made her way to the Miller house, the front door slightly ajar; something was terribly wrong. She had her way up the steps and walked into the dark home, it was eerily quiet as she walked around trying to find anything to help her find Joel and Sarah. Y/n had went to the kitchen and looked around for something to drink, she was dehydrated and probably suffering the effects of sleep deprivation, she finally found bottled water and stuffed them into a bag from beside the front door. Y/n put as much food and water in the bag as she could carry, picking it up and sliding it on to her back to carry. She picked up one of the kitchen knives that had fallen on the floor, hoping it'll protect her enough to get out of this fucked up place. A picture on the fridge, held up by a magnet, caught Y/n's eye; it was Sarah and Joel, they were smiling wide, eyes sparkling in the sun. She took the picture and folded it up, putting it into the front pocket of her jeans. Then she left, going somewhere she didn't know.

19 years later, June 15th 2023 - Omaha, Nebraska

It had been 19 years, 9 months and 11 days since the outbreak - not like anyone was keeping count though. The clocks had stopped, sewer systems barely working; even in the QZ's. The world had given up, let the infection win the war. Buildings now covered in vines and leaves, mother nature coming back to claim what was rightfully hers. Y/n had left the QZ in Lincoln about a year ago, sick of shovelling the ashes of those unfortunate enough to become subjected to the cordyceps. Omaha wasn't great, it was mostly populated by clickers and runners but it was big enough to keep distance from their colonies. Y/n still had her fair share of run ins with a group of clickers a few times, barely making it out alive.

The older woman had now set up camp in an abandoned subway station, the only place the infected never entered; though she could never understand why. It was dark when Y/n woke up after scavenging the surrounding areas, around 3am or at least she thought it was but no one could ever truly be sure anymore. The sound of rain hitting the steps of the subway station filled the air, it hadn't rained in what felt like years. Taking the opportunity to get more water, Y/n placed empty cans, that had been cleaned out, and bottles from her previous water, out to collect as much of the rain water possible. She had sat on the cold tiled floor for an hour or so before she heard a noise - footsteps. She could decipher two separate pairs but she wasn't entirely sure, all Y/n knew was they were coming straight for her.

With her back against the wall of one of the stone columns, gun drawn and held tightly in her hands. She was on high alert, trying to stay encased in the shadows to give her the upper hand. Once the two people had come down the steps and into view, she noticed it was a man and a younger girl, probably his daughter. The girl walked over to Y/n's sleeping area, rooting through her things; taking what was needed. The sound of a trigger being pulled ricocheted off the walls of the station, drawing the attention of the two strangers. Y/n crouched, moving along the tiled floor keeping distance between her and the two intruders. "Put my shit down or I swear, I will shoot you both and leave you as chow for the clickers." The threat made the girl put down what she had taken, backing away from Y/n's stash.

"Stop hiding in the shadows, if you wanted to kill us you would've done it already." The sound of a rough voice called out, he had an accent of some sort but Y/n couldn't put her finger on it. With her gun held tightly in her hands, she slowly walked out from where she had been hiding, aiming the barrel at the two people in front of her. The older male had deep brown eyes, his brown hair had flecks of grey running through it, same as his beard. Y/n thought he looked familiar, like she had known him in a past life. The girl, who was close to his side, had long brown hair pulled into a ponytail, brown eyes that held so much fear. She couldn't have been more than 15. The salt and pepper haired man wearily stepped forward, his hands in front of him in an attempt to calm the situation and not get himself shot.

"Hey. Hey, aim at me. She's just a kid, point the gun at me." Y/n diverted her attention from the young girl, now completely focused on the man in front of her. Half of his face hidden behind a shadow from his flashlight reflecting off one of the walls, casting dark shapes around the room. She noticed a small scar on the side of his face, grazing across his temple. His skin was tanned, slight wrinkles adorned his face. Y/n was in a trance, unable to process being slammed to the floor by the older male, her gun now being pointed at her head. She was scared but she knew better than to let it show, her eyes narrowed at the man above her; the more she looked at him the more he resembled someone she once loved. Tommy fucking Miller. But he was gone, and she knew it wasn't him but he looked so much like the man threatening to blow her head off.

The two intruders had tied Y/n's hands behind one of the stations columns, her gun now in the lap of the man who pinned her to the floor not to long ago. The young girl kept sneaking small glances at Y/n, her dark brown eyes wide with distrust. "Can you get your kid to stop staring at me, it's fucking creepy." Her voice came out hoarse, the man looked her way debating whether to acknowledge her or not. "She's not my kid. And Ellie leave the goddamn woman alone, you don't need to stare." His accent was becoming more noticeable, he had a southern drawl.

Y/n's eyes looked between the pair, trying to figure out why such a young kid would be with some man that wasn't related to her in anyway. Before she could voice her concern, Ellie started rummaging through her bag, pulling everything out. A picture fell out, the one of Sarah and Joel that she took the day everything went to shit. "Hey. Put that back, you don't get to fucking touch that." Her voice was raised, she thrashed about trying to get loose from the restraints. Ellie ignored her and spoke to the older male beside her and handed him the picture. He took it from her and stared at it with tear filled eyes, he hadn't see that picture in years, he had almost forgotten what his daughter looked like.

His head snapped up at Y/n, anger bubbled in the pit of his stomach. He needed to know how she had this picture. He took long strides over to her figure against the column, crouching in front of her; the picture now laying in her lap. "How do you have this picture? Now don't fucking lie to me either." He was ready to shoot Y/n and leave her here to rot or maybe even feed her to the infected lurking around. "Sarah.." Y/n whispered, her voice on the point of breaking. Soft cries wracked her body, hiccups getting caught in her throat. Then everything clicked in Joel's head, he finally knew who this woman was - Y/n, his annoying best friend, but also Tommy's ex.

Ellie noticed Joel's demeanour change in an instant, she didn't understand why he was acting like his world had just crumbled around him when he had been treating Y/n like shit 10 minutes prior, he was unpredictable. Ellie sat there watching the whole scene unfold in front of her eyes, it started with Joel undoing Y/n's restraints and bringing her into him, holding her close. Then were the tears, Joel fucking Miller was crying; Ellie was stunned, who was this man and what happened to the stubborn ass that never joked around? Joel and Y/n held each other for 20 minutes, just sat there clinging onto each other. Once everything had died down, Joel had turned to Ellie and waved her over, he wanted her to meet the woman that he cared dearly for.

Ellie and Y/n had fallen asleep a couple hours ago, Joel told them he'd keep watch even though Y/n had told him no infected ever step foot in the station. He was sat by himself, far enough from the two sleeping figures for them to not hear him finally let out his emotions as he cradled the picture of Sarah. He finally had a piece of her again, something to keep him going. The sound of rustling fabric broke him away from his little moment, he looked over to see Y/n walking over to him. "You need some rest, Joel. I'll keep watch, I wont let anything happen to you or Ellie." He shook his head at the young woman beside him, he didn't want to fall asleep in case everyone disappeared and he would be alone again.

The two sat in silence for awhile until the rays of the sun beamed through the cracks of the station, creating streaks of white and yellow throughout the building. Y/n turned to Joel noticing his hunched over figure still clutching the picture, she moved his head to lay on her shoulder hoping he would be more comfortable. A content sigh left his lips as he slumped more into the woman, his weight leaning against her smaller frame. Ellie had woken up a little while after, Y/n put her finger to her lips signally for the girl to stay quiet in fear she would wake Joel up. Ellie only nodded and pulled out a book from her bag and began reading it, stifled giggles broke through the quiet room Y/n look at the girl once more; she noticed Ellie reading 'No Pun Intended: Volume Too' by Will Livingston, a faint smile appeared on Y/n's face.

Joel woke up to the smell of coffee brewing, it reminded him of the past, the good ol' days. He opened his eyes, squinting slightly at the sun rays seeping into the room. "Ugh! The fuck is that?" Ellie's voice broke through the air, Y/n broke into laughter "You don't like coffee?" The question making Ellie look at her in disbelief. Joel grumbled before getting up and walking over to the pot, checking if the coffee was brewed. Y/n threw a granola bar at Joel, which he barely caught, telling him to eat up. "So, where you guys heading?" Ellie was the one to answer - "We're going to Wyoming, Joel said his brother was there." Y/n looked at Joel, he avoided eye contact afraid of her shouting at him for not telling her about Tommy. All she did was huff and filled up her flask with coffee, screwing the lid on tight.

One week later, June 22th 2023 - Jackson, Wyoming

Joel, Ellie and Y/n had left Omaha a week ago, carrying their lives in their bags. The trek across states was tiring, always having to look over their backs in case of any surprise attacks from infected or worse - people. The sun had gone down a couple hours ago, the sky littered with stars dancing around, it was a beautiful sight. The trio set up camp in a little cave by the riverbend, snow blanketed the ground all around. It was bitterly cold, puffs of smoke entering the frosty air whenever they let out a breath of oxygen. Ellie was stood on a small ledge beside the cave, Joel would never admit it but he saw a lot of Sarah in Ellie; the witty comments, the sarcasm, always wanting to be older. It was a bittersweet feeling.

"Come down from there. You're gonna break your neck." Joel's voice called out to Ellie, earning a sigh from the young girl before hopping down. A fire had been started to try and provide the group more warmth, Joel took out a flask and started drinking from it. He passed it to Y/n, in which she took a gulp, the liqueur burning her throat slightly. "Can I have some?" - "No." Joel didn't hesitate to shut her down, she was a kid for god sake. "What? Just to warm up. C'mon." Joel gave in, nodding his head at Y/n, motioning for her to hand the flask over to Ellie. The young girl took a sip and pulled a face of disgust, earning a laugh from Y/n. "Yep.. still gross."

Everything was quiet for awhile, the sound of birds calling out from above was the only noise in the dark forest. Ellie was the one to break the silence, asking a question about what they would all do after she saved the world. Joel told her he wanted to have a farmhouse, own a ranch full of sheep; the thought made Y/n smile, she knew he always wanted a peaceful life away from the rest of the world, even before the whole cordyceps world domination. Ellie was the next to answer her own question "It's probably because I grew up in the QZ. Behind you, there's ocean, and ahead of you, there's a wall." She paused before continuing "Nowhere else to look but up. I read everything I could in the school library. Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, Jim Lovell.. But you know who my favourite is?" - "Sally Ride" A smile had grew on Ellie's face "Sally fucking Ride, best astronaut name ever."

Y/n never answered the question, she didn't know what she wanted really. She knew she wanted to find Tommy but she never took into account, what if he didn't want her anymore? What if he was happy with someone else, with a family of his own? The thought broke her heart, she knew it was a possibility but the thought of it would always shatter the only thing that held onto her life before all of this.

Joel and Ellie were still passed out, Y/n hadn't slept all night; exhaustion settling into her bones as she lent up against the stone wall behind her, Joel's rifle held close to her chest as she looked around her surroundings. The sound of joints clicking drew her attention to Joel, he was stretching his arms above his head, probably trying to shake the uncomfortable feeling from laying on the stone floor. "Don't give me that look, Joel. You needed to sleep, I can handle whatever comes at us, I'm not a baby anymore." He shook his head, he would never get used to Y/n being all grown up; he still remembers her and Tommy being kids running around on the front lawn as his mother shouted for them to come inside. Those were the memories that kept him going, kept him fighting for something better.

"You know, Tommy was heartbroken when he came home after serving. He kept asking me where you were, why someone else was living in your house." Y/n's eyes glazed over, she wanted to talk - say anything but her voice was caught in her throat. Joel placed his much larger hand into her smaller one, holding it as gently as he could; afraid he would hurt her if he was anything but careful. The gesture made Y/n look over at him, he looked tired, like the world had given up on him - which in some cases, it did. "I.. I never said thank you, so um - thank you for taking care of me all those years ago, Joel. You saved me from losing myself." That struck deep, he thought he was never enough, always fucking up and losing people closest to him. But looking at Y/n, he could still see the light in her eyes - though it had dimmed slightly. A ghost of a smile played on his lips, he felt like he finally done right.

Ellie had woken up shortly after Joel and Y/n's conversation, her hair now out of her usual ponytail, eyes wide open. "Hope I didn't interrupt your little moment." And there it was, her snarky comments. "Listen up, zombie child. Me and Joel didn't have a moment, we're not like that." Ellie stared at Y/n, stunned by what she had said. Then she had laughed, a cackle if you please, flipping the older woman off. "Okay, that was a good one. Joel take notes, be more funny like Y/n." Joel grumbled at her, a scowl replacing his once lovestruck features.

An hour and a half later - The river of death

The trio had made it past what they had originally thought was the 'river of death', relief washing over them. Then the sound of horses and people shouting disrupted the quiet atmosphere, Joel grabbed Ellie's wrist running back to where they had just come from but it was too late, the trio was surrounded by twelve or more riders all carrying guns. One of them hopped down and walked a little in front of the rest. "We ain't lookin' for trouble, we're just passin' through." - "Drop your guns." Nothing Joel could say would change this situation, they were fucked. "You.." The rider pointed at Ellie "Take five steps back." Ellie looked between Joel and Y/n, her eyes begging for help. Y/n had to think of something to help her, the kid needed someone with her right now so Y/n could only do one thing. "Hey, excuse me. She's my daughter, please let me stay with her, I'm all she has left." Y/n forced her voice to break at the end of her sentence, tears pricking at her eyes.

The woman on one of the horses nodded her head at Y/n, letting her walk over to Ellie; engulfing her in a warm embrace. Joel looked over at them, his eyes told the words he couldn't - I'm sorry for everything. "You been near infected?" the man had said, panic set in the pit of Y/n's stomach as she held Ellie closer. "There ain't no infected out here." Joel stated bluntly, trying to find a way to get out of this situation. "The hell there ain't." the man whistled, a dog running up behind him. "Last chance for a bullet. If you've been infected, he will smell it, and he will rip you up." Ellie whimpered, Joel turned his head towards them and mouthed - You will be okay, I swear. The dog, ran up to Joel, sniffing him; his paws placed against Joel's stomach as the dog checked for the smell of infection. He was clean, the dog turned his attention to Y/n and Ellie; his growls ripping through the air as he stalked towards them. Joel shut his eyes tight, scared to see anything happen to them. But all that was heard next was giggles and happy barks, the dog was licking Ellie's hands as Y/n pet him "Who's a good boy?" The dog barked in return before turning around and speeding off to his owner.

"You just bought yourself 10 more seconds. What are you doing out here?" The man was getting impatient, bored by the whole interaction. "I'm just lookin' for my brother. That's all, nothin' more." The woman on the horse perked up at this, like she was a mix between happy and surprised. "What's your name?" Her voice was as smooth as honey "Joel."

The group of riders had allowed Joel, Ellie and Y/n to ride their horses back to their settlement. Joel was on his own as Ellie clung to Y/n, arms wrapped tightly around her waist. They rode for half an hour or so, until they saw big wooden gates about 1/2 a mile in front of them, the words - Jackson - painted on a sign above it. Once they had made it to the settlement, they were met with masses of people walking around, buildings looking like they did before the outbreak. Then Joel noticed someone on a step ladder helping another citizen with something. "Tommy!" the name caught Y/n's attention, her head snapping in the direction of Joel running over to a younger male. Then it hit her, Tommy Miller was alive and he was a few feet in front of her. His hair was much longer now, he had sun kissed skin, freckles dancing across his face. "Hey, Tommy, listen.. I have someone you're gonna want to see." Joel walked over to the horse Y/n and Ellie were sat on, his brother trailing behind. Y/n wasn't ready, she couldn't face him yet, so she did was she does best - run.

Joel called out her name as she ran, looking for a place to hide. She found herself in the stables, pushed into the furthest corner of the building. Tears falling down her cheeks, her chest tightening as she tried to control her breathing. A sharp pain stabbed at her lungs, her breathing rugged and uneven. A hand placed on Y/n's back made her jump, she looked beside her and saw the man she had fallen in love with all those years ago, he was still oh so beautiful. "Hey, doll. You need to calm down, I'm here now." Tommy placed her hand on his heart, she could feel the hammering beating of the muscle, it calmed her down enough for her to breathe; though it still came out in sharp waves. They sat together for what felt like hours, his hand combing through her hair trying his best to calm her down as much as possible.

"I'm, I'm sorry for leaving. I- I didn't know if you were ever going to come back." Y/n tried her best to speak, hiccups breaking through every so often. Tommy shook his head, bringing her closer to him. If he knew she would've showed up in his settlement one day, he would've chosen his life a little differently. It broke him knowing he was going to have to tell Y/n he was no longer hers, how was he going to break the news? It wasn't his fault, him and Maria kinda just happened; it wasn't planned. But right now, all Tommy wanted to do was relish in this moment; memorise every bit of it and lock it away in his mind for safe keeping. He would always love Y/n but he was married now, about to have a kid; something he was too young to do with her back then. "Why did you leave me? Was I not enough for you?" Now that had shattered the remaining pieces of his heart, Tommy hesitated for a moment, thinking over what he wanted to say. "I didn't want to leave you, darling. I just.. I didn't feel like I belonged, I needed to escape from it all.. I'm sorry, doll. You were more than enough, I promise." Tommy's voice broke, it had betrayed him for the first time in years.

Their little moment was interrupted when Maria and Ellie entered the stables, the older woman glaring daggers at Y/n - who was still clinging to Tommy. She turned to Ellie and asked if she wanted to pet the pony, Shimmer. With Ellie now distracted, Maria walked over to Tommy and Y/n, forcing the younger Miller to stand up and pulling him away from the stables. Y/n's eyebrows knitted together in confusion as she watch the love of her life being ripped away from her, once again.

Joel, Ellie and Y/n were housed across from Tommy and Maria, who Y/n had found out to be Tommy's wife. The house reminded her of the past, the good ol' days. Memories of Y/n, Tommy and Joel as kids running around the Miller household flooded her head. Mrs. Miller calling out to the trio, telling them to hurry inside before it started raining, baking cookies with her, dancing around the kitchen while Abba was playing on a cassette Tommy had found in his parents room. Joel teaching Y/n to play the guitar, growing up with the both of them. Those were the times Y/n longed for, the times when everything felt right. She wanted everything to go back to normal, she would give up everything just to go back in time to relive those special moments.

A knock on the door sounded throughout the house, shaking Y/n out of her daze. She went to go answer it but Ellie had beat her to it. The door opened and there stood Tommy, he looked rough; eyes red and puffy, his skin flushed. "Ellie, Maria asked for you. Could you give me and Y/n a moment please?" His voice was broken, the last time Y/n had ever heard him sound like this was when his parents passed away. He went off the rails that day, Joel had to haul his ass all the way to Y/n's house because he didn't trust him enough to be at home on his own. Ellie nodded her head and sneaked past the pair, heading across the street to Maria's home.

"Tommy? What-" Y/n was cut off by Tommy placing his hands on her face and kissing her, it was gentle; something she had missed. He pulled away before she could kiss him back. "Tommy, baby.. what happened?" Y/n brought Tommy into the living room, making him sit on one of the sofa's. His hands were shaking, his eyes looked around the room refusing to meet with her gaze. "We- we broke up.. Maria told me to leave and- and never come back." His voice wavered, sobs wracked his body as he tried to remain calm. Arms wrapped around his frame, the soft scent of soap filling his senses. Her skin was delicate, faint scars littering her hands and arms. "It's okay, Tom. She didn't mean it, she loves you." Y/n forced herself to not breakdown, Tommy wasn't hers anymore and she just had to be okay with it.

Tommy turned to look at her, his eyes scanning her face; she hadn't changed much, hair longer, skin tanned but she was still the Y/n he loved, still the woman he longed to have a life with. "But I love you, doll. I always will and I can't push myself to live a life without you.." Those three little words struck at her heart, it felt like she could finally breathe again. But she remembered Tommy was married and she couldn't ruin what Maria and Tommy had made for themselves. Y/n pulled herself away from him, her head in her hands as she tried to think over everything that has happened in the last few hours. Tommy reached out for her hand and place it on his chest, like he had done earlier that day. "You feel that? My heart beats for you, no one else. It belongs to you, darlin'." Then he kissed her again, this time it was filled with pure love, the need to be with each other. He wasn't giving up on her this time, he couldn't lose her for the second time. He would follow her to the ends of the earth if he had to, she was his home.

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[messrmoonyy]

Tess finds you on a side street in Boston all beaten and bloody after you’ve been robbed. She takes you back to her place to stitch you up.

Needle and thread

Tess servopoulos x fem!reader

Not my gif - viktorhargreeves

A/N- Tess has had me in a chokehold ever since I first played the game a few years ago. The show has only amplified this. She’s a badass. A massive Mf flirt. Man I adore her. And seeing as the tess x reader tag is practically Barron. Here I am. Just a little something to ease me into writing for her. I’m still getting to grips with writing her.

Warnings: Tess loves a good curse word and I know some of you are tetchy about that, mentions of violence, mentions/ descriptions of injuries, reader doesn’t have a specified age but was born before outbreak day but is younger than Tess.

Word count: 3.8K

Masterlist

The first thing you registered was how fucking cold you were.

In fairness it hadn’t been a particularly warm day to begin with. It was the middle of winter and the sky had had that odd light, that showed it was full of impending snowfall, all day. And to make things worse you were street sweeping all day, out in the cold. You’d worn your thickest jacket, but in that moment you felt as though you weren’t even wearing one.

Your entire body was throbbing, your head pounding and there was a dull ache in your side, your mouth tasted of that bitter metallic twang of blood.

Next you noticed that you couldn’t see daylight behind your closed eyelids. It was dark. Where were you? What time was it?

The surface beneath you was too solid to be your bed. Yeah the mattress back in your apartment wasn’t exactly the comfiest thing, but it wasn’t that uncomfortable. And that cold breeze hitting your skin, chilling you to the bone…Where. The fuck. Were you?

Your eyes refused to open maybe out of fear or because your body felt so weak. Maybe it was a mixture of both.

Last thing you remembered was leaving your work assignment, payment of ration cards in your pocket.

Getting cornered in the alley.

A kick. A punch. Black.

You groaned and tried to move but your body protested. But you needed to move. To get up. If you were outside. And it was dark… it was past curfew. You didn’t need arresting for breaking the rules, FEDRA were getting a little too trigger happy for your liking. Firing squads and public hanging were becoming too frequent. And youd lasted 20 years in the damn shit hole that world was now. A firing squad wasnt how you wanted to go.

You’d had far too much time to think about death over the years and if you were gonna go out, you’d do it yourself. You’d decided that a while ago. Not because of some jumped up military officer who probably had a bet with another of who could get the most arrests in a week.

As if to confirm your own fears you heard footsteps drawing closer, hushed voices. And maybe that was it. Maybe you were about to be arrested for breaking curfew and you’d be up on the gallows tomorrow morning and that was that. They’d make up some excuse about having held a fair trial. When in reality they didn’t give two shits

“ Jesus fucking Christ “ you waited for a radio beep, a soldier calling in about someone out. They wouldn’t care that you’d been beat to a pulp. They wouldn’t care it was clearly not your fault that you were lying there in the dark. It was starting to become a game to them now, how many executions could they get in a week.

But no radio beep came. No static FEDRA chatter.

“ hey. Hey you alive? “ you coughed in some attempt to clear the blood that was still seeping into your mouth and attempting to find its way down your throat “ yeah. Alive “

“ Tess what are you doing? “ this voice was a man’s. A heavy Texan accent dripping from his low voice, his tone hushed.

“ what? You want to leave her here? “ a pair of cold hands were on your face, tilting it to the side and clearly examining the damage done.

“ since when are you so caring? “

“ since some girl has had her fucking face kicked in on one of our routes“ you groaned and tried to push yourself up, failing miserably.

“ and what exactly are you planning to do with her Tess? We need to get this shit back. Now “ a pair of hands held you under your arms and positioned you sitting back against the wall. You blinked a few times to clear the blurriness and tears from your eyes, forcing them open.

A woman was crouched down in front of you, holding her hand up in front of her “ hey how many fingers? “

“ 3 “ you said only mildly certain through the blurriness of your eyes.

“ good. No double vision? “ you shook your head weakly and she sighed, checking over you and pulling at your shirt slightly. There was a deep gash on your side which told you why it had been hurting, oozing a steady stream of blood over your shirt “ you live near here? That’s gonna need stitches “ you shook your head again, and your eyes fell on a gun tucked away in the waist band of her jeans. Her baggy shirt covering it for the most part.

You tried to shuffle away and shook your head

“ no- no I don’t- I don’t have anymore cards please- “ the woman’s brow furrowed and she followed your eye line, gripping tighter to your arms to keep you in place.

“ hey. Hey! I’m not gonna fucking hurt you I’m trying to help you. I don’t want your fuckin cards I got enough of my own, not that they’re any use to anyone right now “ you stopped squirming, still unsure of the woman- Tess- but surely if she was going to rob you too she’d have done it by now. Winter rations were at an all time low, most of the time they weren’t even honouring full cards. People were getting desperate “ shit “ you looked down at where she had pulled a hand away from you, it covered in blood. Your blood.

She looked around the ground where she’d found you before sighing and nodding at something “ you fell on that “ a broken bottle with your blood dripping off of its jagged edges was clear enough evidence “ do you live near here? “ she asked again, her hands still holding you firmly.

“ few blocks “ she sighed again and ran a hand over her face.

“ she’s gonna fucking bleed out if we leave her here Joel “ the man, Joel, scoffed and you looked up at him. He was glancing around nervously, probably looking for FEDRA.

“ ‘we’ there is no we with this Tess. Fuck this we need to get out of here. You really wanna draw more attention to us when I’ve got a bag full of pills? “ Tess looked over you again, readjusting a black bandanna in her hair with a sigh.

“ Jesus Christ “ she muttered before standing up and holding out her hand “ come on, come with me I’ll patch you up. Don’t stitch that shit up soon and you’ll bleed out. I live closer less chance of getting caught. We need to get out of here before FEDRA is on our asses “ you hesitated for a moment and she raised an eyebrow. Kindness was rare nowadays and after such a brutal reminder of that, it was hard to readily accept it “ or you can stay here and bleed out. Or get arrested. I don’t give a fuck either way “ she looked mildly irritated and you accepted the hand and winced as she pulled you to your feet

“ Thank you “

“ get that shit back to yours. I’ll see you in the morning “ Joel opened his mouth to protest but she held up her hand and it snapped closed again “ go “ you expected him to protest again, tell her she was stupid and then let them leave you there to die. But she seemingly was the one that had the power. He answered to her and not the other way around “ come with me “ she nodded up the street, indicating for you to follow her. “ keep pressure on your side. Stick close to me “ she said over her shoulder and you did as she said, breathing deeply in some attempt to stop the pain surging up your side as you pressed down on the wound “ robbing people and leaving them for fucking dead. I know people are desperate but fuck me “ she muttered seemingly to herself and shook her head “ people are getting more and more desperate by the fucking day “ you followed close on her tail.

The winter rations truly were at an all time low. You hadn’t seen them so bad in a while. Handing out half’s and expecting people to be okay with it. All it was doing was making people more erratic and desperate. More fights. More arrests. More executions. More people trying to leave the zone, somehow thinking there was a better chance at food or survival outside of the wall.

Maybe it was.

You remembered your time before entering the QZ. It was hell on earth. But sometimes you did think you’d rather chance it out there than with the officers inside the walls.

You were light headed as you followed Tess along more back alleys, stopping every time she flung an arm out to stop you if a FEDRA patrol passed by.

“ holding up okay? “ she asked as she held an arm across your chest to keep you flush against the wall, an armoured truck driving past with its bright torches shining down the streets looking for anyone breaking curfew. You wondered how much longer it would have been before they’d found you lying there. If you’d be in the back of that exact truck now headed for a FEDRA lockup, ready for the gallows in the morning.

“ yeah “ you said a little breathlessly and doing your best to ignore the pain.

“ convincing “ she huffed a small laugh before nodding up the street and kept walking.

She lead you into a building and up a flight of stairs to the end of the hall. You followed her into what you assumed was her apartment, Standing a little awkwardly as she locked the door behind you.

“ sit down “ she instructed and pointed over to the small kitchen table, flicking on a couple of portable lamps. You sat down with a sigh of mild relief and looked down at your side, blood still oozing around the edges.

“ fuck “ you tried to distract yourself, looking around the room. The bed was unmade, clearly still in the state she’d left it in when she’d left. Dishes in a pile by the sink, A plaid shirt tossed over the back of a red couch that had seen better days. There were no pictures on the wall. Most people you’d met that were born pre outbreak had at least one picture from before. But she had nothing. Nothing to give away about who she was.

Your eyes fell back onto her as she joined you at the table, pulling the chair under her so she was sat so close to you that your knees touched.

“ look I’m no nurse and I can’t promise you that the finished product will be pretty but it’s that or bleed out “ she was very direct. To the point. It almost made you want to laugh and you wondered if the blood loss was sending you slightly manic.

“ right “ you watched her carefully as she threaded a needle before soaking it in alcohol. It didn’t seem even remotely hygienic. But you guessed nothing much was these days.

“ take your jacket and shirt off “ again, very direct and to the point. She didn’t seem the type to beat around the bush or bullshit you and you kind of liked that. So you did as you were told, gritting your teeth as you peeled the fabric away from the wound. She picked up a torch from the table and shone it over the area, inspecting it “ cant see any glass. You’ve got that going for you… here hold this “ she handed you the torch and guided your hand to hold it where she wanted it, her fingers over yours “ I won’t bullshit you. This is going to hurt like a bitch “

“ awesome “ her eyes darted up to yours, a small smirk pulling at her lips and she gave a small shake of her head.

“ alright sit back… that’s it. Good “ she leant forward and you instantly tensed as you prepped for the pain “ relax or this will hurt ten times more “ she said lowly, clearly focussed. You tried your best and closed your eyes “ okay on 3 take a breath… 1. 2. 3 “ you groaned in pain as the needle pierced your skin, the feeling of the thread pulling through so odd and uncomfortable you were almost scared you’d puke. And wouldn’t that be embarrassing

“ fucking Christ “

“ breathe. You’re doing great “ you refused to look at the needle poking in and out of your skin, looking at her instead. The entire thing was oddly… intimate. She was leant so close you could feel the faint cold of her breath on your burning skin.

You almost laughed that something like that was making you flustered.

“ was that your… husband? “ you asked quietly in some attempt to distract yourself from the burning pain in your side, hissing through your teeth and gripping tightly at her bicep as she threaded another stitch into your skin.

“ no “ she said, eyes glancing up to meet yours for a brief moment, that mildly irritated smirk playing on her face again “ he’s a headache “

“ aren’t all men? “ she actually laughed at that. It was the kind of laugh that you couldn’t pinpoint if she was genuine or if she was being sarcastic.

“ you got that right “ she tugged a little harder on the thread and you dug your nails into her bicep again, muttering curses under your breath.

“ so he’s your scary guard dog huh? “

“ funny “ she deadpanned, grabbing a cloth from the table and wiping away at a trickle of blood “ I don’t need him for people to be scared of me “

“ I’m sure “ Tess simply gave you that look again and shuffled a little closer as she worked. Watching her was actually a pretty good distraction. And you felt quite stupid to realise your brain was actually trailing off to think about how attractive she was now that you were looking at her so up close.

There you were with a hole in your side and you were thinking about how good looking someone was.

But she was. She really was.

She was older than you, 40s maybe, but no one really looked their ages anymore. Her dark hair was speckled with greys, faint lines adorned the corners of her eyes. She had several cuts and scars adorning her face too but somehow you found that made her more appealing. Her lips were parted lightly as she focussed, brow furrowing and truly you were mesmerised.

“ take a picture it’ll last you longer “ your face burned as you realised you’d been caught very much staring at her.

“ what- i- sorry “ she huffed a laugh and grabbed at your hand holding the torch, positioning it back where she wanted it.

“ why did you help me? “ you asked in some attempt to change the subject. She simply shrugged, leaning forward and biting at the thread to cut it. It was embarrassing how it sent butterflies exploding in your stomach.

“ random dead body on the street will make those FEDRA dicks close that whole area down, probably blame it on fireflies. And I need that area of the city open. You’d have been a major pain in my ass if I’d left you there to die ” it didn’t feel like a genuine answer, which also made you think you weren’t about to get a genuine answer out of her at all. But then again you didn’t know her so how would you know? She was clearly very guarded though.

“ how’d you even end up there? Flashing ration cards around? “ you shrugged slightly and placed the torch down, grabbing the cloth to wipe away the blood on your lip.

“ I was just going home. Some bastards stole my ration cards from my pocket I wasn’t flashing anything around. It’s whatever they must have followed me from work. I have more cards at home. I’ve been picking up extra assignments “ Tess shook her head and put the needle and thread down on the table.

“ FEDRA are probably keeping it all to their fucking selves anyway. Never hear a solider complaining he’s hungry do you? “

You watched her as she grabbed the bottle of alcohol from the table and looked back down at your wound “ sorry. But this is gonna hurt too “ she didn’t give you much of a warning that time before she poured some of the alcohol directly onto the newly stitched wound, clamping a hand over your mouth already anticipating you calling out in pain. It felt as though she’d poured straight acid onto your skin, making you jolt in the chair and attempt to be quiet. Which you failed at miserably “ shh shh that’s it. There we go “ tears stung at your eyes and you took deep breaths “ nice and quiet. It’ll pass. Breathe through it “ Tess removed her hand after a few moments and took a moment to admire her handiwork, simply shrugging before looking away.

“ thank you “ you said in a shaky voice and accepted the bottle that Tess then handed you.

“ drink. Trust me. It’ll help “ you hesitated a moment and she raised a brow.

You took a drink just as a way to hide the blush creeping over your cheeks again.

“ yeah. Better “ you deadpanned and she gave you that look again and rolled her eyes.

“ keep drinking I can’t offer you anything for your face other than drink until you can’t feel it anymore. Tried and tested “ you watched her as she stood up and walked over to a small chest of drawers, reaching into her waistband and tossing the gun on top and then pulling off her shirt. She rummaged around in one of the drawers before pulling on a new one over her vest, then tossing a shirt over at you.

It was at that moment you realised just how indecent you were. Sat at a strangers table, jagged stitched wound on your side and only your bra covering your top half. In your hurried attempt to pull the button up on you tugged at your stitches, hissing in pain and hand flying to hold your wound.

“ don’t. Don’t touch it. Fuck sake “ she strode over and picked up the shirt, swatting at the hand that was hovering awkwardly over your wound “ arm up. Slowly. Or you’ll fuck up my work” she helped you into the shirt, hands brushing over your skin “ you can stay here tonight. Unless you want to go out there and get yourself arrested. But I’d rather you didn’t. It’d have been a waste of my whiskey “

“ I’m sure you’d find some more “ she raised her eyebrows and shrugged, pulling another one out of the drawer as if silently agreeing with you, before taking a seat back opposite you at the table. She unscrewed the cap, tossing it to the table and raising her bottle towards you

“ cheers “ you watched her take a big gulp as if it were water, slumping slightly in her chair.

“ I didn’t know they gave out whiskey on ration cards? “ she eyed you carefully as you spoke, taking another sip from your own bottle.

“ if you’re trying to get some information and run off to FEDRA, I’d highly advise against that “ your mind played back to the mention of pills. The stash of alcohol. The way she had managed to get someone as menacing as Joel to be quiet, to do as she’d asked.

You were clearly in the presence of a very dangerous person.

But surprisingly. You weren’t scared. At all. Maybe it was the alcohol. You didn’t know the last time you’d actually had a drink. And it was clearly now going straight to your head.

“ and why is that? “ she was still watching you, carefully. Eyes narrowed and inquisitive. You felt as though you were a prey in a stand off with its predator. A rabbit trying to escape a fox.

She leant forward, arms resting on her knees and neck of the bottle loosely hanging between her fingers.

“ you don’t want to know “ the air had shifted. You didn’t know why you were prodding the bear. She could kill you any second if she felt like it. She had a gin after all. But something in you wanted to push her buttons and see how far you could. Maybe it was because for once in years someone was paying some attention to you. And someone that looked like her. Someone that looked at you like she could pounce any second.

You liked it.

“ I do “ her eyes still hadn’t left you. Not even for a second. She was taking you in, every inch of you. Reading you. Analysing. It was intimidating you couldn’t lie. It was a challenge.

You didn’t know what you expected her to do. Or say. She simply nodded her head slightly and stood up, closing the small gap between your chairs in a single step. She placed the bottle down on the table and nudged your chin up with her fingers, making you look up at her.

Your breath caught in your throat and your head was suddenly clearer than ever. She didn’t say anything straight away, simply kept that prey eating look in her eyes. You could hear the blood rushing in your ears you almost feared she could hear it too.

“ you’re either really fuckin smart. Or really fuckin stupid. Which is it? “ her voice had dropped. Low and slow. You were the rabbit with its foot in the snare and she was the fox ready to take advantage of the vulnerability she’d stumbled upon. And you liked it. God you liked it “ I asked you a question “ her words were almost threatening but the hold she had on your face was a stark contrast. It was tender almost. Gentle.

“ figure it out “ she gave you another one of those breathy laughs, her lips tugging up into a smirk and nodding again.

“ be careful “ she let you go and stepped away. You let out the breath you’d been holding, but already missing her almost domineering presence in front of you “ you should get some rest” you watched her toss a blanket onto the sofa and then flick off the lamps, the room now only half illuminated by the bright lights that sat on the watch towers along the wall “ I doubt I’ll be here when you wake up “

“ important smuggler business? “ she didn’t grace you with an answer and simply got herself into bed. You made your way over to the couch and wondered if you’d actually get any sleep.

But somehow you did. And , just as she said, when you woke up she was gone.

[ruinedbylanadelrey]

Trying

bbf!Frankie Morales x F!Reader ficlet

playlist

masterlist

based off 'this is me trying' by taylor swift. summary: Family friend Frankie Morales coming home for good gets the news of the death of his childhood and military best friend. He sees how broken the girl who he always thought as a little sister and tries to bring her back to herself.

wc: 4.5K

warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, brother's best friend, OC BROTHER, talk about addiction and suicide, mention of killing in the military, alcohol, drugs, survivor guilt!, sibling loss, grief, reader calls Frankie 'Frank' a lot, mutual pining, mention of disordered eating due to alcohol, vomit, a lot of crying, PTSD, angst if you squint, hurt/comfort, kissing, smut, mental health decline due to grief, frankie becoming a real man, parents, quiet love

The Morales family was your family's first friend when your parents moved out to the suburbs of Florida. You were just born and your big brother, Ethan was merely 3 years old. Frankie met his best friend at a young age. You were always around them, playing soldiers or playing on the gaming console. Frankie was always the one to make sure you were involved since it was just you and your brother. His kindness made you develop a crush on him.

Your parents thought it was cute that you had a crush on Frankie, it just showed how well his parents raised him. As you got older, the crush became something more but you would deny ever having a crush on him because he was another brother to you. Always so bad at lying. 

You fell hard for Frankie when he showed up to your graduation with your brother since they had joined the military together.

"It wouldn't be fair if I didn't show up to yours since you showed up to mine, bebita" Frankie jokes while you sit in the backyard together looking at the stars hiding away from your family at your graduation party.

"I think I wouldn't be able to survive today if you weren't here, Frank," You laughed and rested your head on his shoulder.

"Can I ask you for a favor?" You ask, Frankie looks at you and nods.

"Keep Ethan alive and yourself too," Your words rattled in his brain every single day of deployment. 

Frankie felt his heart try to crawl out of his chest when you looked at him that night. He had to keep his promise. He didn't want to let you down, he kept wondering why was he doing this. He kept such a big promise that could blow up in his face. He wanted nothing more than to keep you smiling and not worrying about what goes on when they leave the country again. When Frankie left your life once again. 

You wrote letters to Ethan and Frankie, but letters stopped returning when your brother was medically discharged and Frankie was in the Delta force. You felt relieved that your brother was home but still filled with anxiety not ever hearing from Frankie. His parents seemed fine and content with hearing so little from Frankie. They knew that on a random Wednesday night, Frankie would call and ask to hear about home. Hearing about Ethan is once again in rehab in the psych ward. You graduated college and now working for a large marketing company and you still haven't found a husband. Always the dramatics with them. 

A couple more years of radio silence gets interrupted when Ethan takes his life. You moved back home with your parents. Frankie comes home for the final time and he's there to stay. Your family and you shut out the world for months, trying to process the death of a son, of a brother. You were completely torn apart and had nothing left in you. Nearing 30 and having to be the adult while your parents grieve over the loss of their firstborn. Your emotions are being pushed aside. 

The silence was officially over when you walked out of the liquor store with a bottle of whiskey and almost dropped it when you bumped into a man entering the store.

"I'm so sorry-Frank?" Your blood ran cold and your body froze when Frankie's gaze met yours. His hair is grown out, facial hair all over but patchy in some spots, the beard graying at his sideburns but his hair still a dark brown curling over his beloved cap.

"Bebita!" Frankie shakes his head and does a double-take.

"How are-"

"Ethan is dead,"

"you?" Your and Frankie's words overlap and both of you stop talking for a second. 

Frankie felt the wind knocked out of him as he stared at you. Your eyes are just dead and not sparkling like they usually are. Your face breaking out from not caring about self-care, your hair thrown up in a ponytail, your cheeks a bit hallow, heavy under eye bags from crying and not sleeping. Grief has become you. You feel like you walk around with half of your identity gone. A part of you is dead. 

"I-I'm sorry for your loss," Frankie comes to and could feel the tears threatening to escape his eyes. You saw how the news broke him, the change in his face, his eyes fell dull. You thought you drained the life out of him. Guilty. Plaguing everyone you talk to.

"Frank...don't shut down like that," You touch his arm, both of you still standing in the doorway. 

"You lost him too," you sniffled not realizing you had been crying since the moment you looked into Frankie's eyes. He drops his head down and quickly wipes his tears with the sleeve of that tan jacket he's had forever.

"How did he?"

"Overdosed...purposely," You said it like it was so normal, always trying to stay strong even around those whom you can be vulnerable with.

A deep 'excuse me' comes up behind you, Frankie takes your hand and pulls out of the liquor store and to his truck. A swing of the passenger door and Frankie helps you into the cab of the truck. He quickly runs to the driver's side and gets in. 

You could hear Frankie breathing heavily and deeply. You watched him fist the steering wheel and a sob breaks from his lips. You slide along the bench and softly rub his back.

"I should be the one comforting you, bebita," Frankie leans back and takes your hand off of him, intertwining your fingers with his. Your heart rate kicked up, something you haven't felt in years since the last time you saw Frankie.

"Frank, he's childhood best friend, a family friend, you grew up with him, don't minimize your relationship with him-"

"I failed you..."

Frankie cuts you off, your forehead scrunched in confusion and you look at him.

"I tried so hard to keep him from ever doing drugs...I tried so hard but what's fucked up is that he only started because he found my stash of coke...I tried!" Frankie wanted the earth to swallow him whole. You knew what was happening overseas Ethan didn't sugarcoat anything when he would tell you things.

You know of the people he's killed, that Frankie has killed, how drugs were quite accessible in other countries.

"Frank...his addiction was not your fault. Not his fault either." You never saw Ethan as his addiction, you always looked at him like the little boy you grew up with.

You were the only person who didn't blame his addiction for the way he led his life. You were always there to get him to help, going through the many detoxes, the many nights of him doped out and pissing himself, but it drained you, you can only help so much. That is the harsh truth, you can only help those who want the help to get clean and stay clean. 

"I was stupid and in my 20s thinking, I could stop anytime...I did but he kept going..." Frankie continued to spit out whatever came to his mind. Not thinking about what came out of his mouth.

"You asked me to do one thing...to keep Ethan and myself alive..." Frankie could still your words from that night. You remembered what he was talking about, your heart fluttered at the fact that he did keep his word. Frankie did it just for you. 

"That was selfish for me to ask...life doesn't like to play in anyone's favor," You laughed at how naive you used to be. How you painted Frankie as this strong and self-assured military man, your soldier, the knight in shining armor.

"It wasn't selfish," Frankie tucks the piece of hair that refused to join the ponytail. You wanted to melt into his touch, how his touch feels different. It was charged. Magnetic to your skin.

"You should hate me..." Frankie's voice cracks, You never thought you see the day that Frankie cries. He was always so stoic. 

"I don't. No one does. Because it's not your fault." Your tone made Frankie tense up, your honeyed voice was turned to ice. You didn't want someone else to feel any guilt. You already take on so much of it, you might as well take it all on. Frankie cleared his throat and saw how your eyes were still soft.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Frank...come by the house tomorrow...I miss you," You softly whisper, you wrapped your arms around his right arm and rested your head on his shoulder. You felt his head nod in response. You sat up and kissed the tears staining Frankie's cheek. His body shudders when your lips graze his skin. 

"Noon, I'll make us lunch and we can talk with my parents." You forced a smile while you gathered your purse and the whiskey bottle for the night. 

-

You drove home and thought you were selfish for grieving in front of Frankie who just got the news about the person who truly knew who he was. You parked the car in the driveway that getting overcrowded by the weeds that Ethan has taken care of since your father has gotten older with you.

Another thing to add to the list of many things you have to do before moving back to the city, get a landscaper. You reached for the bottle and opened it. You bring the whiskey to your lips and let the burning amber liquid sit on your tongue before you open the door and spit it out on the asphalt then bile comes up and burns your throat. Your nose running from crying and vomiting all over the ground like you were 8 years old again and getting extreme motion sickness. 

You walk into the tomb of your childhood and the living room TV playing some infomercial, your parents still having cable whilst having almost every streaming service. Your mom is asleep on the recliner seat of the couch, your father in his big recliner that was the perfect size for him,

You would always sit in it with Ethan on Saturday mornings watching cartoons and eating the bowl of Lucky Charms that opened poorly and you both know your mom is going scold for opening the box of cereal wrong. Working as a team to get the bowls down from the cabinets and helping to pour the milk so it doesn't spill all over the countertops. 

You search for the remote and click off the TV then walk to your old bedroom that only had a full-size bed, walls decorated with movie posters, pictures of friends, and your old vanity mirror that had a Polaroid of you standing between Frankie and Ethan at your graduation. You picked the picture to study it again for the thousandth time.

Frankie and Ethan dressed in their ceremony uniforms, you remembered your breathing taken away seeing Frankie in uniform for the first time, thinking 'It's true, everyone loves a man in uniform'. You felt your face twitch noticing how you were smiling at how Frankie's clean-shaven look was the awkward stage he never went through as a teenager. 

The smile on his face was everything, just a smirk curling up the left side of his face. You thought it was so boyish and charming. You sat the picture down and went to the bathroom to wash out your mouth before falling asleep. A dreamless sleep beside flashes of memories of you and Ethan as little kids. The flashbacks are always when you are both kids never as teenagers or young adults. 

-

You wake up with your heart racing, shot up in bed with your hand on your chest panicking more over the fast heartbeat. You glanced at your phone and it was 6 am. You're wide awake and you can hear your father's snore downstairs. The door to your room is pushed wide open and your eyes land on the furball of a culprit.

Ethan's cat 'Prince', because Ethan said he is royalty and should be treated as such. The cat sits at the foot of your bed with a mouse made from an old army shirt that Ethan wore all the time you special ordered for the cat because of how sick he got when Ethan passed away. You thought if you could help a cat process grief you could forget about yours. Always running from it, but grief and love to loom around corners you don't turn down often. 

The cat drops the mouse for you on the bed and walks out of the bedroom. He thinks you can't feed yourself. You laughed in your head but started to think about the last meal you ate that wasn't on a drunken binged that would puke out your guts an hour later. You stuff towels at the bottom of the door to muffle your cries and gags. Stuffing the towels at the bottom of the door that isn't to keep the smoke from weed you had in high school. 

You get out of bed and go down to the kitchen to feed Prince. As you prepared his lavish breakfast your body and mind were instantly drained. You needed to shower and start to clean this house before Frankie arrived, that meant getting my parents up and about. You had no energy to do anything for yourself, if it's not for Ethan why even do it? 

You sat in bed and stared at the ceiling for an hour before you started cleaning up the whole house as if Frankie was going to be in every single room. Your parents left for the store to buy lunch and dinner for the weekend at 10 AM meaning they won't be back until 11. Your sweat drips down your forehead and goes into your eyes making them sting. Your ears roar with blood rushing to your head, clenching your jaw and not breathing.

Your fingernails were bleeding while you scrubbed the bathroom sink. You yelp as the cleaning product gets between your nails, and you scold yourself for not putting on the rubber gloves. You started to cough when you took too deep of breath. Quickly turning on the water to wash away the cleaner from the sink and your skin. The tips of your fingers slightly burned, you could feel the tenderness. 

A small fit of laughter came from the hallway, you wiped your hands on the sweats you had put on to clean in. You entered the living room and saw Frankie sitting with your parents in the dining room adjacent. You gazed at the clock on the cable box, at 12:15 p.m. Did you blackout while cleaning?

"Mama, Frankie is here..." Your mother sees you with bloodshot eyes and sweating all over your face and body. Frankie turns around in his chair and looks at the mess you become. You could feel your face get even hotter as he gave you his stupid smile but it was strained a bit maybe forced. 

Frankie looked at you and saw how wrecked you were. His heart could feel tendrils of the beating muscle tear apart when he finally saw you completely exposed by emotion.

"I'll be back, I need to clean up," You mumbled wiping away the sweat mix with tears off your face and heading to the shower. Turning it all the way to icy cold water comes out, and chilling your entire body. You looked up at the running water practically washing your eyes out. 

You pull yourself away from the shower and put yourself back together. You walked back downstairs in shorts and an oversized sweatshirt, your hair wet and pulled back into a ponytail. Frankie saw how fresh-faced you looked. He could still your baby face in your drained adult face. Your eyes are still always so wide and big making him swim in the chocolate waves. You took a seat across from Frankie while your parents rambled on about what they were making for lunch. You adverted your gaze from Frankie. You were embarrassed about how he's seen your grief. 

"I showed up and no one answered the door, I went around back and saw that the backdoor was wide open and the cat was meowing. I was worried that something happened to you. I followed the damn cat and saw you heaving over the bathroom sink. I called your name several times. Your parents came home and they were happy to see me and I lied to them and said you let me in while you finished cleaning,"

Frankie whispers after he turns to look to see if your parents were out of earshot. Frankie reached across the table to hold your hand. But you flinched as your tender fingers touched his calloused hands. You winced while he examined your hand. 

"I blackout too when I start a task. End up always overdoing it." Frankie says, softly holding your hand, trying to somehow heal you, skin to skin. You nodded not knowing what to say because you don't trust your voice to sound like you've been crying. "I'm trying to pick up everything and put it back together," You cleared your voice still laced with uneven breaths. 

Lunch was served with a Long Island iced tea and talking about Ethan. Laughing with tears in your eyes. Your parents retire to their bedroom not hungry enough for dinner, just proud that they ate at least lunch. You and Frankie went to your bedroom, he loved how it was still set in the past with a mix of your office set up to work from home. "I never thought I would ever be allowed in here," Frankie said picking up a stack of CDs from the 90s and a mix of early 2000s. 

You giggled thinking back on how the 'no boys allowed' sign made a big impression on Frankie.

"You are an exception," You continued to watch Frankie look at your room, he made note of the different movie posters and even an HBO show poster, 'Band of Brothers' Ethan's favorite show.

"Has that always been the case, Bebita?" Frankie smirks at you, moving the bed and sliding next to you. The tension in the air hit the air when you could feel Frankie's body heat radiating off his body. The sun was just setting and the natural light hit the light pink walls giving the room a romantic hue. 

You rolled your eyes and looked away from him.

"I know you used to have a crush on me,"

"Jesus Frank-"

"I thought it was adorable." Frankie chuckles, sitting up against the headboard to wrap his arms around you. The feeling of his sturdy body against yours made your skin hot and break out in goosebumps.

"I thought you were cute but you know best friend's sister is off limits," Frankie sighed, thinking about when you entered high school and he was just barely a junior. You grew up overnight to him. You started to really put time into your appearance. To Frankie, you just highlighted your beauty. But Ethan told Frankie when they started middle school that his sister was off limits. 

But now here you are both adults, both have jobs, and both secretly in love with each other. Was the rule only when you were all horny teenagers?

"Are you saying you had a crush on me too, Frankie?" When his name fell off your lips it made him forget the looming grief over the both of you.

"Never stopped," Frankie was being bold, life is too short to not say anything after years of wasting time. You looked up at Frankie and couldn't believe anything he was saying. Was it just to make you feel better since you know your brother is dead? 

"Nooo...that's not true Frank," Deny, deny, deny. How could he ever love you? There's nothing left in you anymore.

"Bebita, why do you think I stuck up for you when we were kids? Because I needed to protect you and care for you because I've loved you for a long time," Frankie cups your face, and his thumb runs across your bottom lip. You swear you were on cloud 9, the warmth of your love for him and his love for you radiating through the lightest touch.

"Frank I think that you have been feeling a lot of emotions the past day. I'll let you say whatever you want and not hold it against you." You wanted to believe him. You know he's being truthful. 

"I meant what I said, I want us to try, try to be there for each other," Frankie rests his forehead against yours, his finger brushing through your hair. It was nice to be held. Especially with Frankie.

"I'm trying," You sobbed out, fisting Frankies t-shirt and pulling him closer to your body. His words opened the floodgates and you couldn't stop the tears overflowing from the waterline. Frankie lays down holds your head to his chest and lets you cry. 

-

Frankie came to your house every single after that. He started to do yard work with your father, you would bring something to drink and eat. The funeral happened after months of arguing with the VA about where Ethan could lay to rest. Your parents wanted him at the family plot but the VA said he had to be buried at the fort, that it was clearly stated in his will when he joined the army, so everything would be simple and easy, and not anyone would spend a dime but the government it's money.

Your parents started to go back to their normal lives enjoying retirement. You and Frankie started to see each other every Friday night, going out for dinner and getting tipsy. You would go home with him and spend the weekend at his apartment, enjoying living without your parents walking around. 

The first hookup was when he came over to work on the mow the lawn for your parents since they were going to be out of town. You had completely forgotten about Frankie coming over when you walked out the backdoor in just a thong and t-shirt letting the cat out for the day. He was opening the shed in the backyard when he heard you murmur 'Oh my god' and quickly turned on your heels and ran upstairs. Frankie blushed deeply not remembering what he was doing for a second. 

You tried to pretend that Frankie didn't see you half-naked until he was at your bedroom door, rushing you and pinning you against the mattress. His lips hungrily locking with your soft lips. His mustache and beard rub against your soft skin. Tasting the lemonade you had made for him to go with his lunch. 

"You're just too pretty, bebita," Frankie grunts as you bucked your hips to grind against his growing bulge. You loved how your clothed cunt rub against the denim jeans.

"Frankieeee, t-touch me, please," the sweetest whine left your lips, Frankie looks down your chest, he pushed the shirt up toward your collarbone to admire your plump perky breasts and how they swayed with each grind of your hips.

Frankie propped himself next to you and traced the outline of your body, not missing caressing your breast, and lightly tracing your nipples making them harden. You were whimpering at the teasing touch. Frankie pushes aside the thong and dips his finger down your folds to your entrance. 

"So wet, is that all for me, sweetheart?" Frankie deepens his voice an octave. You nodded and bit your lips to stop yourself from moaning.

"Words, bebita" Frankie purs, you gasped as his fingers slide inside your cunt and curling them, hitting the sensitive spot that makes you see stars.

"F-fuck, yes Frankie! All for youu" You cry out as his thumb rolls your clit while fucking his finger into you, curling them every few thrusts. Your pussy clenches tightly around his digits.

"I-i'm closeee" you whimpered, Frankie lowers his head and takes in a nipple into his mouth, first licking it then sucking as hard as he could. His mouth on your body and his hands doing magic on your wet cunt. 

You felt your release gush out of you and coat his hand. Your moans were coming out without any hesitation.

"Fuck me, Frankie," your hands undo his belt and going straight towards the zipper and doing the button very last. You dip under the waistband of his briefs. Your hand cups his hard cock and strokes him until he is fully hard.

Frankie rolls on top of you pushing down his jeans and underwear just enough to free himself then kicks off the rest of the jeans while you pull off his shirt. He pins your hands above your head as he thrusts into you in one go. You screamed out the pleasure that you got from the stinging stretch of his thick hard cock sliding along your velvet walls. Frankie moans in your ears as he drops his head in the crook of your neck, enjoying how wet and warm you feel around him. Taking him so perfectly. 

"You feel so good, babyy," Frankie bottoms out and grinds into you, his cock hitting your cervix.

"So big, Frankie, fuck you feel so fucking good," You gritted through your teeth when Frankie bends you in half and drilling into your aching pussy.

"I-I need you! I need you!" Frankie chants, and you could see the tears falling down his face, and you couldn't help but cry yourself. You wanted Frankie to feel whole. He's always been the one. Took care of you when you hit rock bottom with grief. He helped bathe you and helped you brush your teeth and brushed your hair when you dried your hair. Getting you dressed every day. 

You didn't put up a fight. You needed him. He needs you. You're falling in love.

"I'm yours! Ah-all yours, Frank," You grunted as his harsh thrust became harder when you proclaimed that you are his. You fell into the pillowy high of orgasm number 2.

"All mine, and I am yours, amor" Frankie moans as he flips you on your stomach, hiking your hips just enough for his cock to fuck your aching hole.

"I love you, Frankie!" You cry out as another wave of bliss warms your body down to your toes.

"I love you, bebita!" Frankie gives the same passion back, while he paints your walls with his load. Your eyes rolled back from being so full with his cock and his cum dripping out of you and making your thighs sticky. 

You both lay there, touching each other, exploring each other bodies. Years of messing around to make up for. Allowing grief to bring you to your person. You can't be mad anymore because now to you life is worth living again. Frankie had the world around you make sense again. 

[buckera]

I kind of want them to recast Tommy for flashbacks because I can't stop thinking about how unless they officially age him up in canon then he's only about 21 in Chimney Begins and I think it would hit so hard if they have this baby faced Tommy meeting Gerrard and us slowly watching Tommy realize that he's in hell and the best he can do is avoid being the punching bag and it doesn't even work.

mm tbh based on what Lou had come up with for the character (which is not canon, but Tim explicitly told Lou that he largely wants to base the character on Lou's irl personality and what he thought was best for him so yk we can roll with that until given something else in canon) Tommy didn't quite know where he stood with himself and he tried to fit in even in his own head

he did try to be macho and he did date women, because that's what he was supposed to be doing. and the canon line "lying to myself" encapsulates that pretty well

he was looking for a father figure ever since he left home, but unfortunately that meant his military superiors and Gerrard. he might've felt like the behaviour was wrong, but he was seeking Gerrard's approval on his own, not just to keep himself safe, but to belong.

so I think what we could get could be so very complex... but also, while we're on the topic, if we'd go that far back, we might as well go farther, because we already pretty much know how things played out at the 118 for Tommy, what we don't know is his military days and his childhood and his time as a young troublemaker and for that to cast another doe eyed, sharp cheeked actor would definitely work better

[mayg-b]

After thinking for sometime Sebek came to the conclusion that he was panicking a bit too much, even if something similar happened to Silver, same assassinations can happen as well 

Sebek was lying down on his bed, thinking about his situation and Silvers assassination when someone knocked on his door

knock knock

"Young master, can I come in?"

"You can"

answered Sebek as he got up from his bed

"your grandfather wants to meet you immediately"

 

Sebek looked at the Maid and didn't said a thing, he felt like he was a worker going to meet his boss, very nervous he nodded his head 

'I will just have to not to get out from Sebeks character, Baul is his grandfather he will surely know something is wrong with his grandson if I dont'

 

 

 

 

 

Baul Zigvolt one day woke up very confused and just seconds after he felt memories that was not his fill up his head

And pain

 

Very big headaches

 

He realized he went into the novel his eldests grandchildren have been talking about non-stop

But he never was interested in magic and fantasy books, he preferred classics more -something his grandchildren said was because of his old age- 

But know, waking up in the book he knew little to nothing about made him regret not reading it just a bit, a tiny bit but nothing more than that..

 

Well atleast he got the original baul's memories

 

Thinking about his youngest grandson and how this bodies own grandson was such alike made his heart softened, in his memories he saw how the the bodies owner refusing to send the grandson to train with someone more stronger because apparently "the stronger person" was bodies owners....ex?

 

 

.

.

.

 

 

Well he was not going to think too much about those memories.

 

But he will definelty make this grandson his "exes" student as the way child wanted

 

 

 

When he heard from a butler -Cameron, he remembed butlers name- about how his grandson was acting strange, Baul felt something strange but decided to shrug it off since it went away as fast as it came, but hearing child not being himself worried him a lot, greatly even.

 

 

But also knew he still had a lot of troubles and he also knew after he is finished, his grandson would be really happy

 

 

 

Hearing the murder attempt made him see red, he left the capital's military headquarters in a rage, just ad he was happy to share the good news with his grandson such horrible act happened, it irritated him as much as it angered him 

 

Hearing child's health being okay only managed to calm a bit, just a bit

 

 

 

Baul wanted to meet his grandson way faster, but he was scared child would become overly-excited and hurt himself when he would give the news to him

-no he wasn't making up excuses because he was nervous, where did you get the idea?-

 

The doctor -Madeley- said he needed rest for 3 days so baul tried to wait for 3 days, but he wasn't as patient as he hoped resulting him going to his grandsons room one evening 

But opening the door, and seeing the kid sleeping so peacefully, he didn't had the heart to wake him, so he quickly left

 

Finally he had the -guts- time to call his grandson for a meal and talk

.

.

Baul just hoped it would go better then the talk he had with the other one

 

AND OF CHAPTER 4

Here is the 4 chapter, it's bit too short for the time I took, but I kinda forgot about this-

But now that I have a motivation and a little bit imagination I hope I will be able to write the next chapter much faster

@psycheprincess @sbk-zgvlt

[icey--stars]

Part 3: 3.3k words, Eris's POV

Series Index

A story of finding solace in another. Azriel finds himself needing danger in a peaceful world, and what is better than the Autumn Court, ruled by his old nemesis, Eris Vanserra?

a/n: Time for Eris's POV >:)

Also, I’d just like to apologize for even the mention of the number “thirteen” for those who’ve read the TOG series. I immediately regretted it and now I feel like crying.

WARNINGS: brief mentions of drug use

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

Eris

To be completely honest with himself, Eris didn’t have a damn clue what he was doing as High Lord. He was just trying to make positive changes and not follow his father’s advice on being High Lord. Sure, he’d learned how to do things like council meetings (but only violent ones) and write to lords across the court, but never one that was meant to bring positive news.

All in all, the Autumn Court was looking up into a new age of… happiness, but Eris still didn’t know what he was doing. When he’d become High Lord, he’d immediately gotten rid of his father’s council, instilled his own loyal portion of the army as guards, and set to work on finding new, creative minds to help him manage Autumn. Though he tried to not seem too radical in instilling all reasonable females, he did manage to get three females into his agricultural, economic, and foreign affairs areas. 

When peace had come to the land of Prythian officially, he felt… more free. More free than he’s ever felt in his entire life of seemingly endless battles. Battles fought in his mind, battles fought politically against his father, or physical battles against enemies of all sorts.

His changes to the Autumn Court were positive, but he just wished he knew what he was doing. Jax, the next oldest Vanserra brother who was also trained in how to be the High Lord, was no help at all. In fact, as soon as Eris had permitted him to leave as he wished as long as he caused no harm to anyone, he’d left and only came around when Eris requested it of him, like visiting Velaris in the Night Court.

So that left his only assistance lying with his mother who currently lived in another court, the High Lord of that court, which just was not a good idea when trying to show that he was still a strong leader for Autumn, or he had his other two brothers: Hue and Kuhn. However, neither of them have much experience beyond council meetings and foreign affairs. They don’t know how the military runs or how agriculture works. Sure, they knew the bare basics to know what to say when someone was talking about it, but it wasn’t enough to be useful. And Eris doesn’t even want to get started on economics. They had no experience in managing funds. At all.

Sure, they were his more friendly brothers whom he practically raised himself, but they were no help when it came to ruling Autumn.

So basically, Eris has been ruling Autumn by sheer stress and will and by taking any (and when he says any, he means any) advice he could find and trying to use it in a way to achieve his own goals. Those goals were equality and the entire Autumn Court prospering like Velaris was.

And oh how difficult it was.

Eris was currently sitting at his desk, writing a letter to a lord requesting a tax break for the year to deal with the new wage increases for his workers and to expand his farms. He was accepting, as long as the lord promised to compensate in some way like an interest payment for the next year. A mirthroot cigarette was in between two of his fingers as he smoked, breathing out the smoke. It was calming him enough to work.

However exhausted he felt, he’d failed to fall asleep just moments ago though. After returning from the Night Court, his mind kept floating back to one particular shadowsinger.

As he signed off the letter and used wax to imprint the High Lord’s seal, shaped in a maple leaf, he thought more about the male. The outfit he’d chosen tonight had looked sinfully good on him. The black dress pants hugged his ass just right and the vest. He’d never thought that Azriel was meant to be in a vest but Cauldron-

When he’d complimented Azriel, “You clean up well, shadowsinger,” he had been completely truthful. Truthfully, Azriel had looked like a 7-course meal of desserts tonight.

And he couldn’t get it out of his Cauldron-damned mind. Even with his standoffish behavior during the visit or when he’d spontaneously appeared in the Autumn Court, Eris was having trouble getting the male out of his thoughts.

It was truly a problem. Was he attracted to Azriel? Surely not; the male hated him. 

For over 500 years they’ve been enemies. Sure, most of the problem had just been a bit of miscommunication and a need for the truth to come to light, but that meant nothing. They’d still lied, hurt, and tried to kill each other plenty of times. Eris was not attracted to Azriel. It just wasn’t plausible. So Eris would have to settle for the fact that Azriel was just interesting. His magic, his Illyrian ethnicity, and the fact that he was already so mysterious as Spymaster of the Night Court.

That’s right, Eris was just interested in learning more about Azriel, which was a normal urge considering most people knew nothing about him.

Eris sighed as he set the letter back down on his desk and stood suddenly. He pushed his chair back under his desk and then groaned as he stretched his arms by folding it against his chest and using his other to go down around it to stretch it further.

He winnowed from his office to his bedroom a few doors down and lay in bed, determined to either fall asleep or at least rest. Honestly, his work-life balance was already hard enough without his sleep schedule being normal. He was either up late and woke up around nine to ten or he passed the fuck out and woke up at 3 in the morning, wondering what the fuck was wrong with him. There was no in-between.

Eventually, Eris did fall asleep, but it took a while. But when he jerked awake at the sound of someone knocking on his door, he knew he’d fallen into a deeper sleep than usual. How odd.

“Eris!” Hue yelled through the door. “Wake up you overworked dickhead! It is noon!”

Eris rubbed his eyes and cursed his sleep schedule before rising out of bed to open the door before Hue could tear it down. “What?” He asked, leaning against the doorframe as Hue reluctantly lowered his fist.

“It’s noon. You should be awake by now. The council is also waiting on you in the meeting room.”

Eris groaned. “Tell them I’ll be there in a few minutes. And do not tell them I was asleep.”

Hue nodded. “I’ll tell them you were caught up with work.”

Eris nodded and then shut the door to go into the bathroom and deal with whatever bedhead he probably had.

As he glanced in the mirror, he was grumbling at the misplaced strands and part that ended up all mismatched. He picked up his brush and wet it a little to tame his wild hair. Once it looked good, he dried it with a brief flare of heat and then changed into a clean set of clothes. His back ached already, but he was too tired to keep his posture right, so he settled for tightening a red-orange corset over his dress shirt and tucking the strings back into it.

He grabbed a black hair tie just in case he needed it and then put on his red dress shoes before walking quickly down to the meeting room.

As he entered, he didn’t apologize but once he sat down, he said plainly, “I got caught up in other work. Let’s begin.”

Absolute fucking hell. That’s what council meetings were. Sure, he managed to keep people from attempting to kill each other, like meetings used to be. It used to be similar to the High Lords' meeting before the Hybern final battle. But it was still exhausting to hear so many annoying words and arguments. Honestly, it would be so easy if people could just agree. But nobody would concede to a perfectly valid point today.

He was almost relieved when he heard from a guard that the shadowsinger had been spotted, and was waiting for him just outside the wards.

Eris immediately took the opportunity to escape.

He winnowed to the front of the Forest House and began walking down the pathway toward the winged male ahead with his hands in his pocket. He was wearing the usual black set of leathers. Eris was still wondering if he ever cleaned the damn things.

As he got closer, Azriel shifted on his feet uncomfortably as Eris slowed his gait. “Come again so soon, shadowsinger?” Eris asked with a smirk. “Is the Night Court that unfulfilling? Perhaps with you coming by so often, I should put you to work.”

Azriel scoffed. “As if you could find anything that my skills are useful for,” he said.

Eris raised a brow. “Any particular reason for your visit today?” His tone was a tad more sincere and less mocking this time.

Azriel shrugged. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Yes, but my council can wait. Would you like to take a walk, shadowsinger?” Eris offered. Anything to get out of that damned room. He swears he’s not like his father, but sometimes the violent tendencies he has when he’s frustrated make him wonder.

Azriel stared at him for a while longer. “Why?”

“My hounds need a walk,” he conjured a lie easily. “And while you are here, seeking entertainment, you might as well come along.”

“I never said I was seeking entertainment.”

“Why else are you here then, shadowsinger? Did Rhys want to give me a time for another meeting? Surely you’re not spying on your newest allies.”

Azriel glared at him and Eris merely smiled with a corner of his mouth in victory. “You’re bored, and I can’t blame you in the slightest. I’m giving you an out, shadowsinger, from facing further questioning.”

Finally, after a seemingly endless amount of time, Azriel sighed. “Fine. Where are your hounds?”

“Just down the road,” Eris replied. “I’m sure you can survive walking a fourth of a mile.”

Azriel rolled his eyes. “I can, but can you?”

Eris smirked at the teasing. “Of course I can, Azriel. You might be surprised how often I take my hounds out on walks.”

Azriel's right wing twitched, which Eris had long since learned meant that the shadowsinger was mildly uncomfortable. Most likely, in this case, he didn’t know how to respond.

Eris walked past Azriel, forcing the male to turn to avoid Eris from walking into his wings. “Come along, shadowsinger. Be a good boy now.”

“I am not a dog, Eris,” Azriel growled as he followed Eris, stepping faster to walk beside him.

“Oh, but you listen just like one, don’t you?”

Azriel glowered at Eris, turning his head back to the path. Eris found it much too entertaining to rile up the shadowsinger. And good for that.

“Oh relax,” Eris said. “Don’t get your balls in a twist.”

“I was unaware you even knew what balls were,” Azriel retorted.

Eris grinned and chuckled. Now that was more like the male he expected. “You might find that I am the best person to ask regarding balls as you put them.”

“Sure,” Azriel replied sarcastically.

Eris rolled his eyes and finally spotted the cabin down the road that housed his hounds. It was warm and comfortable for their pens and allowed them more free range to go to the bathroom when they needed to through the dog door in the back. He trusted them all by now to return to the warmth inside.

“Stay there,” Eris said, pointing to the ground.

“Why?” Azriel countered, stepping past the point.

“Because,” Eris insisted, “unless you want to be tackled to the ground by twelve ghost hounds, you are going to wait right there like a good Illyrian.”

Azriel huffed and paused in his step, watching Eris walk to the door and open it.

The hounds came rushing out and Eris whistled sharply to call them back from the male who flared his wings slightly at the sight of all twelve ghost hounds rushing toward him.

Though, they were trained well, so they turned back to return to Eris after the whistle.

“Good,” Eris praised them. One moved toward Azriel again and Eris glared at the dog. “Soot,” He drawled in a disappointed tone.

The dog turned back to him and then drooped slightly and returned to Eris’s side. The little troublemaker was incapable of following simple directions sometimes, but Eris still loved him.

He noticed Azriel’s eyes straying to the left and followed his gaze while leaning down to pet Ash who’d rolled onto his back for belly rubs. His corset made it harder, but it was manageable. Oh. That’s what Azriel was looking at. A grave sat under the dogwood tree parallel to the cabin. Eris’s heart tugged for a second at the memory of placing it there.

“I’ve only lost one,” Eris explained. 

He stood and said loudly, “Sit!” The dogs sat and he walked toward Azriel slightly.

“How?” Azriel questioned without betraying any emotion in his tone.

Eris grimaced slightly. “Adria was the pup to grow up with my littlest brother. When he ran over the Spring Court border, she tried to follow and was shot by an arrow.”

“Ah,” Azriel hummed. “I was under the impression you’ve always had twelve.”

“Nope,” Eris said. “Thirteen in spirit.”

Azriel nodded and turned to look at all the other ghost hounds who had huge tongues lolling out of their mouths and violently wagging tails. “What are their names?”

“How about I tell you as we walk?” Eris suggested. “For once you seem curious, shadowsinger. I must confess I like this new look on you.”

Azriel rolled his eyes. “If I’m curious, Eris, it's probably for a reason that you don’t know.”

Eris smirked. “Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it for now.” He shrugged. He whistled sharply and turned to walk down a skinnier path that forced Eris and Azriel to walk quite a bit closer if they didn’t want someone to be in front of the other.

The dogs immediately tried to sniff Azriel, either following his trail or shoving their noses into his clothing. Percy, Eris noticed, shoved his nose into the shadowsinger’s wings, and the male jumped and glared at the dog. “Call off your dogs,” Azriel growled.

“Sensitive wings?” Eris teased but waved off the dogs. “Go hunt a rabbit, you idiots,” he ordered. “Hunt!”

That sent all their ears straight up and them rushing into the woods to be the first to bring their owner something.

“Percy was my first. The hound who decided to shove his nose somewhere unwelcomed.”

“Stupid dog,” Azriel muttered.

Eris glared at him for that comment. “Percy is my most intelligent and all of them are faster than any fae alive. Many are trained in controlled aggression as well, shadowsinger.”

Azriel glanced at him and then sighed. “Fine. Not stupid. Not polite.”

Eris chuckled. “Conceding a point is rare for you, shadowsinger. But I appreciate your rewording. These dogs are the most pampered and well-trained in all of the Autumn Court.”

“What is controlled aggression?” Azriel asked.

Eris pursed his lips, thinking of how to best explain it. “I can order one of the dogs trained in it to attack someone, but as soon as I tell them to release, they will, with no hard feelings. It’s aggression, like biting and attacking and barking that is completely under my control.”

Azriel hummed in acknowledgment.

A dog came running out of the bushes, carrying a rabbit in its mouth. “Good boy Rue,” Eris commented. He conjured a leather pouch and leaned down to the dog with it open. Rue proudly dropped it in and then walked beside Eris, in between him and Azriel. Rue happily pushed his head into Azriel’s hand, whining softly.

Azriel looked down at the dog and then hesitantly petted him. Eris watched the interaction with rapt attention. He rarely saw his dogs act such a way to strangers. The sniffing had been normal for someone not trying to harm Eris, but outright friendliness was only reserved for very specific people. Like his mother, Hue, Kuhn, or Lucien. Once or twice, there’s been an instance where the hounds reacted positively to someone outside the court, like Helion, but that was it. This was new and Eris was very… interested in his dog’s opinions of Azriel.

Rue yipped happily and licked Azriel’s hand. Azriel recoiled slightly but seemed to relax into the licking. Eris knew about the scars on Azriel’s hand. Perhaps they made it more sensitive? It would make more sense to be less sensitive but what did Eris know?

(He did know a lot about burns. Just not on highly sensitive areas like the hands.)

“He likes you,” Eris commented.

“Clearly,” Azriel pointed out. “He’s very friendly.”

“Only with particular people,” Eris answered ominously.

Azriel hummed. Eris stared at him for a moment longer before turning to see three more happy hounds carrying their prizes from their hunt. Eris chuckled and opened the leather pouch again. They were catching their dinner tonight.

However, Eris still found it odd that his dogs liked Azriel so much. Maybe he wasn’t so bad. Maybe Azriel deserved a bit more trust than he got. Eris didn’t know, but his hounds’ opinions of people affected his own opinions. With Beron, they always growled. With his mother, they loved her. With any of Beron’s council, they almost outright attacked them and anyone like Helion who was pretty relaxed and peaceful overall, was ignored.

So all in all, he trusted his hounds’ judgments. So he could try and relax a little around Azriel. Maybe it’d bring out whatever his dogs were seeing in him.

After all the dogs had hunted their meals for the day, Eris turned back.

“You never told me all their names,” Azriel murmured once they turned.

Eris hummed. “You’re right. I didn’t. There are twelve, of course. Going in order of when I got them, their names are: Percy, Vixen, Selena, Cadoc, Nimbus, Sorrel, Soot, Ash, Taunya, Pyro, Rue, and Jack.”

“They’re all trained?” Azriel asked incredulously. “How long have you had them?”

“They are, shadowsinger. Don’t look so shocked. I’m sure I’d be surprised by how well your little shadows floating around you work. I’ve had Percy, however, since I was around twelve.”

“My shadows aren’t that complicated,” Azriel argued.

Eris raised a brow. “Care to share, then?”

“They just talk to me in a language nobody else can understand or hear, but they listen in on whatever they want.”

“Give me an example of something they’ve told you about me,” Eris said. “What secrets have you managed to gather?”

Azriel hummed in thought, his eyes going up before refocusing on Eris. “They tell me you woke up late today.”

Eris’s brows furrowed and he shrugged nonchalantly. “I won’t lie, then.”

“Do you work on High Lord things normally late into the night?”

Eris turned to glare at Azriel. “That’s none of your business.”

Azriel lifted a brow but didn’t reply.

Eventually, they made it back to the Forest House, luckily much later than any of the council would wait for him to return.

“I do have some paperwork to get to, shadowsinger. But I do hope you found some sort of entertainment.”

Azriel didn’t reply for a moment before he finally choked out a response when Eris didn’t move on without one. “I did.”

Eris’s lips tilted up. “Good. You aren’t so bad, shadowsinger. You just need some practice in peace.”

Azriel seemed to grimace before quickly saying, “Goodbye” and winnowing away in a swift burst of shadows.

Eris chuckled and put his dogs away, leaving the leather pouch for later when he would clean their meals for the night and add more healthy snacks into it.

When he got to his desk, he sighed as he spotted a huge pile of paper. So, he lit another cigarette and got to work.

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

TAGLIST (see post for getting added)

@bunnymallowo, @officiallyunofficialperson, @margssstuff, @rebloggiest-reblogger, @inpraizeof, @graciereads, @eos-princess, @bubybubsters, @fieldofdaisiies, @ladylokilaufeyson5, @marina468, @acotargiftexchange, @mali22

and the 🌟 of the show: @catboyjamesbond

Ask in the comments to be added!