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allbark-no-bite · 2 years

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Yours || Elvis Presley x reader

summary: Elvis makes good on his promise that he’d court once you were older, but now that he’s back in America, you’re worried about where his heart lies

word count: 2.2k

warnings: none really, illusions to age gap but nothing major

authors note: everyone thank my obsession with Elvis Presley for making me consistent with writing. i finally managed to spit out something that isn’t terribly sad and honestly, i’m in love with this one

Photographers and news reporters mill about the grounds of Graceland like ants, chattering excitedly. It's March, and the air is cool, a typical Sunday afternoon in Tennessee.

Except it's not a typical Sunday because it's March 1960 and my boy is coming home.

Elvis was arriving back from Germany, and the entire world was celebrating. Just about very reporter in the state had flocked to the gates of Graceland to get a shot of him. The Colonel had set up a press conference to make a spectacle of the event, and someone had even sent up a cake for the occasion.

Although I was over the moon to see him again, a part of me was anxious. Though we talked daily, the time we had spent face to face only amounted to a handful of hours and only ever under the watchful eye of my father. And in addition, he was returning to the life he had left behind; the rockstar life with music, expensive cars, and girls—thousands of them. I feared that I was going to become a thing of the past; once again just the little girl he had met in Germany.

But still he insisted.

"Come live with me. Darlin', you would love Graceland. When I get home, I want you there. I want you there waiting for me when I walk through the front gate," he'd pleaded to me the last time I had visited Germany before he was discharged.

At first I was dumbstruck. We had both known that things could soon be coming to an end of the two of us. My dad had been permanently stationed in Germany and had intentions to move us there, destroying my chances of seeing Elvis anymore than I had when living in America.

But what would my mother say? Hell, what would my father say? Surely he would skin both of us alive if we proposed such an idea.

Before I could even begin to form some sort of coherent sentence, Elvis intercepted the reluctant argument on my tongue.

"Before you go arguin', I already talked to your daddy. With you moving to Germany and all, he thought it a decent idea. He knows just as much as I do that you don't wanna to move here. You've got a whole life waitin' back in the states. We've got a life back there waitin' for us."

And so when the time came, I tearily said my goodbyes to my parents and moved back to America, into a big house with a white picket fence and Cadillacs parked in the driveway.

During the few weeks that I spent waiting for Elvis to return from deployment, I got to know his parents, bonding with his mama over stories from Elvis' childhood and tending to the chores outside the house with Vernon. In a way, they became my parents too.

"Here he comes!"

The declaration pulls me from my spiral of thoughts.

Reporters and their heavy cameras buzz to life as the jabbering of the people clustered at the iron gates turns into frenzied screaming at the sight of the train of black cars turning down the drive.

Standing in the front yard with Gladys and Vernon, I smooth down the soft fabric of the dress that I'm wearing. I wanted to look presentable not only because his return was being broadcasted, but for Elvis. He always made a point to look his best, and in turn I wanted to look like the girl that belonged by his side.

As the line of cars comes to a stop in the driveway, I feel a prickle of the anticipation that has been building within me for days. Jerry glances back at me and sends me a wink.

With a dozen reporters crowding the second car in the line up, it's not hard to distinguish between which vehicle he's going to get out of. The door swings open and out he steps, greeting the reporters and smiling politely as he skillfully avoids the cameras being shoved in his face. Sonny and Red, as well as the rest of his entourage, do their best to move him along, flanking him from being bombarded worse than he already is.

He catches sight of his parents first, and Gladys hurries off of the porch to greet him, Vernon trailing not far behind.

He's taller, I think to myself, staying back as he covers the distance of the yard in just a few strides to embrace his mama. However, he quickly releases her, turning his head left than right to scan the crowd of people waiting to welcome him home.

I see his mouth move as he asks his mama something along the lines of 'Where is she—Where's my girl?"

My heart races within my chest as Elvis' searching eyes finally land on me and he breaks into a smile. Next thing I know, I'm running as fast as my dress will allow me across the yard. In an instant, I'm in his arms, colliding into him with such force that I'm amazed I don't knock him down. Instead he grabs ahold of me, swinging me around and lifting my feet from the ground. The flashing cameras and news reporters dissipate around us. Nothing exists outside of the soft velvet of his black coat against my cheek, his large hands on my body, and the musk of his cologne. His grip on me is crushing, but I would let him hold me like that forever if it meant he'd never let go.

"God, I missed you, mama," he sighs into my ear. "You got no idea how bad I've been needin' ya."

Our moment doesn't last forever though, and soon enough, Jerry is ushering Elvis along, breaking us apart. "Sorry, EP, but we've got to move this thing along. The Colonel already has you set up for the press inside," he says above the shouting of the reporters.

Elvis nods, but he doesn't release me, instead keeping one arm around my waist, tugging me to his side as he walks.

While the reporters set up their mics in Vernon's office, a cake is brought out in the meantime. A gift from the Memphis Press, the guitar shaped cake reads 'Welcome home Elvis!' in black frosting. With Elvis seated behind the cake for a couple of photos, his cousins waste no time in formally inducting him back home with their usual shenanigans. While he's distracted, Billy smashes a plate of cake to his face, and Elvis almost manages to escape it, the cake instead only catching the lower half of his face.

The press roars with laughter and the flashes of their cameras go off rapidly, catching the moment. Soon enough he's laughing too, cake smeared across his face as I lean over to kiss his cheek, all the while sucking from his thumb the frosting he had wiped from himself.

The look on his face for the rest of the day is jubilant, and he's all smiles and laughs as he answers the reporters' questions. Elvis doesn't let go of me for the entirety of the afternoon, either keeping his palm pressed against the small of my back or going as far as to sit me on his lap while the press interviewed him.

Now that Elvis was home, he had no intentions of letting me go. Of this I had absolutely no complaints. Even well after the reporters had left, taking their cameras with them, he was attached to my side.

"Let's go for a drive," he mumbled as I laid beside him later that night, attempting to get him to fall asleep. With the excitement of the day, I had assumed he would be exhausted, and he was, but as I had learned a while ago, Elvis often struggled with insomnia. We had spent many nights driving the empty streets of Germany until well past my bedtime.

I relent, and minutes later we are pulling out the gates of Graceland in his pink Cadillac.

We drive for probably a hour, chatting on and off, singing along to the quiet mumble of the radio when a good song comes on. It was as if we had not spent a single moment apart. I would have been content to drive around until the early hours of the morning with him—I would have been content doing anything with him—but finally he selects a spot to park.

With the car stopped, he eases back the seat until he's reclining back. Elvis pats his thigh, motioning his chin in my direction. "C'mon, mama."

And so I'm crawling over the seats of his pink Cadillac, until I'm settled comfortably in his lap, my knees bracketing his hips. Once he's content that I'm situated, he rest his hands behind his head, fully relaxing into the seat.

For a while we sit in silence, Elvis just staring up at the stars and me admiring him. Eventually his blue eyes become slits, narrowing until they flutter closed. At first I think that he has finally fallen asleep, but then he yawns, and his blue eyes crack open again.

He hums imploringly, looking at me through his dark eyelashes.

"Do you remember when we first met?"

Again, his eyelids fall closed, and he hums again. Only this time, negatively. "Uh mmm."

I gasp, grabbing his jaw out of reflex to get his attention. "Elvis Presley!!"

His eyes snap open, and he pulls my hand away from his face. It's then that I catch his smirk of mirth that was hiding beneath my palm.

"You were only seventeen."

My daddy had been an officer stationed at home in the states, but he was going to Germany for some business. At farewell party held for draftees, I'd met Elvis just before he too, was shipped to Germany.

At seventeen, I was young for my grade and almost out of high school. Left alone at the party while my father chatted with his old comrades, one of his soldiers, who happened to be a family friend of ours and a mutual friend of Elvis', introduced us.

Almost immediately, I was swooned by his charm. Elvis, on the other hand, was not convinced.

"Little girl, you're just too young," he had eventually confessed to me at the end of the night. "Maybe when you get outta school, I'll write to ya, but not now." And he had left it at that, disappearing to Germany for an entire year without making contact with me.

The following summer, he sent me a letter.

Dear Miss [L/N],

I am pleased to write to you that your daddy is doing well. We are stationed not far from each other and have become close confidants. Our main topic of conversation is you. I promised to you that we would talk again after you graduated from school, and I am a man of his word. I hope this letter finds you well and open hearted.

yours,

Sgt. E. Presley

After receiving his letter, we kept in close contact for the remainder of his deployment; even making calls when letters were not enough.

"So sweet," Elvis recalls. "With a mean streak." I squeal when he roughly grabs hold of my hips.

I blush, swatting him away as I protest. "I was not!"

Admittedly, he wasn't wrong. We did get to see each other between the time he left for Germany and when he came back. My dad would fly myself and my mother out every so often to visit him, and we would attend the military balls in the evenings.

Often the soldiers would avoid me at all costs. My dad didn't have to worry about me attending such gatherings because he knew what a spitfire I was. I had a mean reputation amongst the soldiers stationed in the area. It was mostly the young recruits who often walked away from conversations with me, licking their wounds after making some vulgar or sexist comment. Because he too was a man himself, Elvis was sometimes on the receiving end of such interactions. But he was respectful and able to hold his tongue around me for the most part.

Elvis chuckles and pats my thigh, wrapping a large hand around the back of my knee, tugging me further onto his lap. “C’mere, mama. It’s been too long since I’ve held you.”

Like putty in his hands, I allow him to embrace me, tucking me close into his chest. He hugs for a second time today, just the same way he did in the front yard this afternoon. It’s the same way he’s hugged me since the first time we had to say our goodbyes in Germany years ago and every time since then. It’s not tender or gentle, but bearish and consuming, as though he’s putting his entire being into the embrace. I never ask him to let go, always willing to wait in his arms until he decides that we can’t stay that way forever.

The temperature has dropped a few degrees but the heat from his body and his half open velvet coat are enough to warm even my insides. As our bodies slowly become one, I hear his breathing even out against my ear, and his heart slows to a patient thrum between our bodies. Still dressed in our clothes from the previous day, we fall asleep together under the stars in the drivers seat of his car.

#elvis 2022 #elvis presley #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley imagine #elvis presley fic #elvis fluff

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harrystomlinson · 1 year

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holding onto heartache

It’s becoming a pattern now where i have a epiphany in a vent post on my main and follow it with a entire lyrical breakdown.

I had the horrible day and instead of a) studying for my finals b) processing my emotions and c) resting , I present to you d) a lyrical breakdown of what to me is the most important, personal and vulnerable song off the album.

I've seen a lot of theories that think this song is about Zayn, and I honestly agree? It makes sense in the second verse but I feel like this song on its own is about the gap between 1D going on hiatus and Louis trying to find his own sound and space with everything that was going on with him. The processing and reeling.

We know he's the kind of person who instinctually takes care of people, puts others before himself and has always been that way, even in the band. I think the song on a fandom standpoint is there, this interpretation will dabble along those lines but in a more general and sort of personal interpretation.

As usual, big hugs if you relate to this. Here’s holding onto heartache.

You said I'm holdin' onto heartache You said I wear it like a crown It's gonna drag me down I'm holdin' onto heartache You should be starin' at the sky The birds just passin' by, love

The moment I heard the lyrics "You said I wear it like a crown, it's gonna drag me down" I kid you not I was shook to my core. Here, he's being addressed by someone, someone he is close to and talks to and someone that understands him. They see how he's been and they're making it a point to ask him, tell him that he's holding on to his hurt, his feelings and thoughts. This person also knows at our speaker is someone who knows how they're feeling. He "wear it like a crown", so one would think he's in touch with them, they're working them out. But in reality, its only dragging them down.

This is about the people that others know is self aware, and to someone who doesn't know them that well they even come across as a very "emotionally intelligent" person. Someone who takes care of others so well probably can take care of themselves, right?

The fourth line, he isn't being addressed, but he seems to be agreeing with what is being said to him. He is holding onto his heartache, but he deflects. Even when he and his hurt is brought up, he talks about how this person should be "starin' at the sky" and watch the birds that passed by, or that they should be taking in the world around them in peace, and not bother with him, or how he is feeling.

The wind, it held us up, but We knew that all would change Creates the strangest feelin' Just slowly waitin' for the end I still have dreams about it The moments as they came The moments never shown to us Because we faded into darkness

Now this verse makes me absolutely feral because its very obviously about the band and its hiatus. Is there another way to view it? Yes absolutely, I'm gonna talk about both of them.

I would like to say to anyone who believes in the "Louis didn't know the hiatus would be happening and it was sudden and unexpected" should maybe reconsider their opinion. We know the supposed behind the scenes, all the bad parts of the drama. He is literally singing that the "wind" of the peak of the band publicly held them up, they were the biggest thing ever, but they knew it was going to end very soon. They would put on these massive shows and watch oceans of crowds sing back to them and watch their names be celebrated but also know it was going to end soon. What had made their lives and careers and all the time together was going to just...end like that, with so many things unresolved and so much hurt caused to so many people. He still thinks about what did happen, what didn't happen and what could've happen. They just faded away, like it had never happened.

To me, this is about all the people we've loved and lost. For the people who feel like the happy moments they have won't last, the joy and laughter won't last, because it never has. No matter how high the win held you, it had always changed. You're always waiting for the end because it's always been like that. You give and you give until it's gone away (yes that was on purpose, goes to show the incredible writing on this album) and no matter how much love you give it goes away. You never get the same back, and yet you still have dreams about it, it still haunts you because it's a part of your heart that you gave away.

I can still hear a silence I can still hear a clock that's tickin'

A strong and effective pre chorus which ties the song together so beautifully.

The statement is oxymoronic, with silence one can hear. But that's the thing with some silences- usually, you're silent when you do not know what to say. When there is doubt. When there is uncertainty. When there is a gap to formulate an answer. But some silences speak for themselves- there are silences because you know it. There's a silence of knowing, of inevitable, painful change that you had to come to terms with. It's a beautiful way to put together how he can still feel those feelings in him, like a ticking clock in a quiet room- its there, but you never notice it until everything else is blocked out and you have no option but to listen to it.

You said I'm holdin' onto heartache You said I wear it like a crown It's gonna drag me down I'm holdin' onto heartache You should be starin' at the sky The birds just passin' by, love Holdin' onto heartache

I can go on and on about how much I love this chorus and the sheer amount of layers in it. The change in perspectives, the dialogues placed as lyrics that tell us so much about him with so little effort.

The last repetition of the title seems almost rueful, and it's pretty cleverly placed if you ask me. I don't know a lot about song structures and how they can be changed in their building etc. But on a lyrical lever this was the perfect place to add that little repeat and the vocal delivery on it makes me want to rip my hair out and cry in a totally not normal way.

The nights, they change in seasons Become the strangest days I called you twice, but then regretted it And changed my number The questions that I'd ask you "Where did it all go wrong?" There's endless versions of the thing That keeps me driftin' back to darkness

I have two things to say: "Does it ever drive you crazy just how fast the night changes? Everything that you've ever dreamed of disappearing when you wake up" and "No matter how much you want it, some things change"

We're back with the whole "haunted by what could've been", placed in a very particular lyric. What I found eye catching was the "called you twice" instead of the usual 'I called you and regretted it'. Doing something twice isn't something you do when you're driven by impulse or out of a rave sentiment. You do it twice when you think you're affirmed in your decision. He didn't regret calling this person because he didn't mean it or because it was a rash decision, it was because he felt like he was doing something wrong. That the other person wouldn't be okay with wanting to communicate to work it through.

When you've always been taking care of people perfectly and you fuck up with one person, who makes it explicit that you made a mistake, you're scared to ever care for them again. It's like walking on eggshells because you're scared you'll do it again. You're scared to ever hurt someone because you know what it is like to be hurt and you would never cause someone that, so instead, you just let it be. Give them "space" rather than call them, talk it through and process it. You end up not giving importance to your own feelings about the situation because you're worried more about how the other person is feeling.

The last two lines might be the most vulnerable, honest and gut-wrenching lines I've ever heard. (After the defenceless bridge, of course, love you walls).

When you love and you love and you love, you hurt the same amount. If you have a ton of love to give, you will also have a ton of blues to feel. How you feel is never disproportionate: If you're allowed to love in endless versions in tremendous amounts, you'll also be feeling grief in endless versions in tremendous amounts. It's a scale that never tips in intensity.

You know the party's over When you're standin' in an empty space alone And time can always heal you If you let it make its way into your bones Nothing's ever easy To be honest, I'm not easy on myself The second that I see you The space between us just comes floodin' back

This bridge makes me want to smash a glass bottle against a wall followed by punching a fist through it, kool-aid man style.

In my original post I talked about how this song song is for the "therapist friends". This bridge is exactly where that came from.

From a fandom standpoint, I feel like this was the point where the band had started the hiatus and after the year Louis had personally where he went through a lot of things. I think it was that moment where he knew that being aware of his grief wasn't enough, he'd maybe have to work through it (shoutout to Angie's amazing post here @persephoneflouwers) and grow.

All the advice and facts you state and use to comfort those around you in need for it, sometimes you ought to listen to it yourself. It's not as easy as it sounds, you even know that. But you know it. You know for a fact that you are capable of healing. You know when it's time to stop, you know when it's time to start. You know that for someone who's constantly caring for people around you, making sure they're not hurting or are not alone in your hurt because you know how that would feel, you're not easy on yourself. Because no matter how hard you try, you always seem like you end up in the same place because you keep holding onto it.

You said I'm holdin' onto heartache You said I wear it like a crown It's gonna drag me down I'm holdin' onto heartache You should be starin' at the sky The birds just passin' by, love

The incredibly tender "love" that makes me want to shake and sob aside, I want to end this how I ended my original thing: This song is for the people who hold onto their heartache, because they don't know what they'd be without it.

For all the people out there who give and care and love endlessly, the ones who feel a lot, the ones who never feel like they can talk too much about how they're feeling without feeling like they're burdening the other person when they'd listen for someone in a heartbeat, for the people who know what's up with them but have a hard time processing it or don't know how to process it, for those who feel like they keep going back to and holding onto their heartache after everything said and done, Louis has done it again, hasn't he?

Find my other FITF analysis' here

#ftif analysis #dailytomlinon #hlsource #userjackie #louis tomlinson #faith in the future #lyric analysis #holding onto heartache #AGN

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fabricated-misslieness · 2 years

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pairing: fuse x male reader

req: no | wc: 1.04k

summary: Fuse only wants a kiss. Or does he?

warnings: swearing, little suggestive

a/n: i dont play apex mobile but i’m counting the mobile exclusive agents. Don’t be confused, the other agents aren’t here. just explaining the 24

The next season of the Apex Games was coming soon.

“Hey, darling?”

“Yeah?”

Seeing it as a big occasion, Fusey, being the kind and rowdy man he was, decided to organize a little party. He had prepared much for it already: entertainment, a DJ, a dance floor for the DJ, booze, coolers for the booze, everything he could possibly think of had basically been checked off his mental list.

All except catering, that is.

Seeing as the venue was, well, his own home, as the host he couldn’t have some regular old Joe (as professional as he may be) cater his guests; not when he was able to guarantee a good meal himself.

The man was a lovely cook when it came down to food he loved. And what he loved most was a great–no, amazing barbie. He had made it his mission to make that barbie happen.

“There’s more meat coming off than peel.”

“Oh, shut up. It's not my fault you don't own a bloody veggie peeler!”

"Don't need one when the knife is just as good."

So here you were, just a couple hours before the party, leaning over a sink and peeling vegetables. It was just the two of you—the two of you making food for twenty-four people.

There was sauce to make, salads to mix, veggies to cut. Man, the menu was large.

You might as well be demanding a chef’s salary from him.

Your fingers felt as wrinkled as a grandma’s. With all the veggies you had run under the faucet and the water that still clung to their skin, your hands stayed wet and wrinkly. You reckon they wouldn’t be as fucked if you were faster at peeling them. See, whilst Fuse was a great cook, you were far from it.

Your time in the kitchen had been spent somehow burning water, setting things on fire (the non-professional way) and spilling shit all over the place.

As much as Fuse loved a thermite grenade, the arson of his own kitchen was far from enjoyable, which is why you were delegated the task of peeling.

While you could probably use a knife for violent ways, you could definitely not use it for the delicate work of peeling nonuniform veggies. But you wouldn’t admit that. Not that you needed to, anyway. The peel filled sink was enough evidence.

“What are you even doing over there, anyway?” You scoff, “I don’t see shit on the stove.”

“Keep your eyes on your own work, bludger.” He replies in a snarky tone that matches yours. “There’s more veggies a-waitin’ and they ain’t gonna peel themselves.”

You turn to him, blank look on your face, “Weren’t you just commenting on my work?”

“That’s different!” He proclaims.

You huff, “As if!”

“Look, I’ll be right back with something, and then I’ll get to work.” He gives you a pointed look, “Will that satisfy you?”

“Depends on what you’re coming back with.”

“Oh, trust me,” He chuckles, “You’ll like it."

"Better not just be breaking out the budgie smugglers."

He promptly takes his leave. Now alone, without him to entertain you, you focus back on your boring old work. Speaking of, it was a damn miracle that your fingers weren’t littered with cuts. Whatever guardian angel was watching over you today must’ve been the same one that picked Wally out for you, as much of a prick he was right now.

You were tired of standing still and straight for minutes on end. So, you hunch over, leaning your elbows against the edge of the counter.

You only realize how suggestive the pose is when Wally comes back.

In truth, you have only been thinking in your comfort's best interests.

“Woah, love, today is not the day!” His voice turns into a near whisper, “Or well, at least right now is not the time.”

You turn to him curiously, brow raised. “What d'ya mean?”

Instead of answering outright, Wally struts over with one of those stupid, charming smirks of his you've grown to love. Oftentimes it meant he was smug about something, and while you knew he was smug, you could tell he wanted to do something mischievous too.

You just couldn't tell what.

Though, if you had only an inkling of awareness, you'd have known.

"Oh, no, nothing." He says, even though you know he's absolutely bluffing. He leans with his waist against the counter, eyes already half-lidded.

"Fair dinkum?" You mirror his stance, far from convinced.

"O'course! Could never lie to ya, love." He snickers, knowing his accent is rubbing off on you. Then, he pulls you in for a kiss.

Needless to say, your current vegetable and knife are abandoned by the sink, and so are most of your curious thoughts.

It's only a short kiss, but far far from chaste.

"Not that I'm complaining, but," Wally seductively bats his eyelashes at you, which makes you laugh, "you're kissing me be-?"

"Because I love you, and," He draws back from you, flourishing his apron with a quick bow and the meaningless waving of his hands. "because of this."

The phrase Kiss the cook is plastered with big, bold letters on his white apron and accentuated with an eye-catching red kiss mark. You hardly remember buying it for him.

"Oh," You snicker. "well then, come here for another."

Wally doesn't protest. How could he? You kiss again. He relishes in the feeling of your lips, hooking his arms around your waist to pull you even closer. The contact is sweet and makes him feel warm; a toasty, cozy warm.

As much as Wally wanted to stay, there was a party coming and sides just waiting to be cooked. Even though at the end of the day he could call you a better meal than his own barbecue.

When you part, Wally gives you a knowing look.

"Do we have to?" You whine.

"Unfortunately." He declares in a sing-song voice. "Maybe I should've let Mirage host again." He mutters.

As he'd hoped, you settle back into your precious position and pick up your work.

So, he finally takes his opportunity.

He could never let such a good booty left without a tender, loving smacking.

Smack!

"Ow, you ass!"

"Your ass, actually."

#fuse x reader #fuse x male reader #walter x male reader #walter x reader #walter fitzroy x reader #walter fitzroy x male reader #i can say fitzroy now bc i finished bioshock infinite lol #apex legends x reader #apex legends x male reader #🎟 // apex legends #🎫 // fuse #🎫 // walter #🌸 // success!#💞 // darlings

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quaranmine · 3 years

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New World, New Faces

When the hermits moved to their new world, they were excited to welcome two new members. But maybe one is an old friend instead . . .

Grian hasn't seen Pearl since Evo. It's a shock.

No romantic relationships or content warnings. Mainly emotional hurt/comfort, but probably more emphasis on comfort. Hermits: Grian, Pearl, and Mumbo primarily with a little bit of Scar and Xisuma as well. Reblogs appreciated and AO3 link in reblog!

Words: 3893

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These days, Grian was pleased to say that the Watcher’s didn’t occupy his mind nearly as often as they used to. Except on certain late nights where he lay in bed and thought of before, his time was mostly spent having fun--scheming, pranking, building, planning, mining, laughing with friends. It wasn’t something he could forget, but the hermits had become his new home, and as years passed the edges of those memories had dulled a bit.

The other times where the Watchers occupied his mind were update days. Since joining hermitcraft, Grian had gone through several updates with the rest of the server. Sometimes they moved to a new world, and sometimes they stayed in their old one. No portals of bedrock ever appeared, but Grian always thought of them just the same. It always felt like maybe, just maybe, one day he’d turn around and see their signature portals once again.

Watchers didn’t always leave portals to update worlds. Grian hadn’t known that until he’d been put to work as a Watcher himself. Oh, the Watchers were still in charge of updating worlds, but they often did it more subtly, without grand towers and quests for portals. It’s hard to retain status as a myth when everyone knows your calling card, afterall. Admins always knew when it was time to update. Grian hadn't, back on Evo, because he’s always been told.

It turned out Evo had been different, and Grian didn’t know how to feel about that. Evo wasn’t the only world to receive special attention from the Watchers, but it was one of their favorites. Why them, though? Why did the Watchers keep such a close eye on their world in particular? Why were they left towers and clues and prizes and punishments, when other servers were mostly left alone?

Why did they kill everyone and kidnap Grian?

◑ ━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━ ◐

Grian stood in a group with the other hermits, eagerly waiting for the move to the new world. He bounced a little in anticipation. He was excited for the new update--he knew very little about its contents, but it seemed like there would be some new building blocks to play with, according to Xisuma.

He already had plans for the new world--new bases and new shenanigans. Grian was excited to build close to his friends. Xisuma had informed them that another update would come in a few months, and for the hermits to stick close in the time being so that new land would be freed up for the coming update. Grian had already known about the second update for a while, as all Watchers do, but he let Xisuma handle all of this as admin. Those days were behind him, now, and there was no reason to start exercising Watcher powers in a world that was carrying on just fine on its own.

“Is everyone ready?” Xisuma shouted over the chatter, trying to do a headcount. “Hey!” he shouted, trying to get everyone’s attention. Slowly, the chatter quieted.

“Looks like it,” said Iskall.

“Good,” Xisuma said. “Now, before we go, I wanted to remind you that we have two new people joining us this time. I’ve already made arrangements with them prior so they’re gonna be waitin’ for us when we go through.” He grinned. “Be on your best behavior for me, alright?”

“I’m always on my best behavior,” Keralis replied, and Xisuma rolled his eyes fondly.

Grian smiled, remembering his welcome to hermitcraft a few years ago. Unlike this time, nobody had been expecting him. Grian hadn’t been invited like these two new hermits had been, he had just been there when the hermits arrived on their new world. None of the other hermits knew quite why he was there, but they’d all accepted him graciously nonetheless.

Grian liked that memory. The truth is, he’d fled the Watchers and picked an uninhabited world at random, not realizing it had already been reserved by Xisuma. That was a failure on his part as a Watcher, because he was supposed to know about stuff like that. But he had been too busy running to worry about it and besides, there was nobody on hermitcraft to punish him.

The hermits had welcomed him with kindness and made him part of their family. Now he’d gladly do the same for these new soon-to-be hermits.

“Okay . . .” Xisuma said, typing something into his admin panel. “I’m just setting up the portal now.”

They were all gathered in the shopping district, right in front of the Town Hall. Grian took his chance to take one last glance around at the world. The diamonds in the trees glittered in the morning light, sending little reflective shards of light scattered on the ground. Moving worlds was always bittersweet, because it meant parting with the things he’d worked hard on and the places he’d made memories at. But it was also one of his favorite things to do, because it gave everyone a blank slate to work with, sparking endless new creativity.

“I wish I could take some of those with me,” chuckled Scar, as he walked up next to where Grian was standing. He pointed at the diamonds.

“Well of course you want them, Mr Mayor!”

“Uh-uh,” Scar said. “I’m not the Mayor anymore! This is a new world.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to see what we get up to in the next one, huh?” Grian asked. “Do you have any plans?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” Scar teased.

“I guess I will.”

“Do you have any plans?”

“I don’t know,” said Grian. He thought for a moment. “I might make a cave base. I guess I’m waiting to see what’s out there for inspiration before I start.”

“Well, I look forward to seeing it,” Scar replied. “Oh! It looks like Xisuma is ready.”

Grian looked up, to see X opening a portal. It wasn’t a nether portal, nor was it like an End portal. It wasn’t a Watcher portal either, but an Admin one. Grian had come to realize that Watchers supplied Admins with the means to move into updates on their own when they wanted to. The bedrock portals and scavenger hunts were reserved for their favorite worlds--their toys.

Sometimes the Watchers liked to flex their powers, but the universe is not kept running smoothly if all your time is spent flexing. Grian brushed away the thought, choosing to focus on his friends in front of him instead.

One by one, the hermits stepped through the portal, which swirled light blue and hovered just slightly off the ground. Grian hung back, wanting to be one of the last ones through. He wanted to make sure everyone made it through alright, but Xisuma had to be the very last person, since he needed to close the portal. When it was finally his turn, he gave Xisuma a smile and walked forward.

Grian stepped through, into the bright sunlight of a village, and was surrounded by the voices of his friends.

◑ ━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━ ◐

Spawn was a village in a grassland, next to a swamp and overlooking the ocean. It looked a little plain, but the hermits hadn’t left their mark on the world yet. Behind Grian, Xisuma stepped out into the new world and the portal vanished behind him.

Everybody was crowded around a ditch chattering, apparently exchanging greetings with the two new hermits that stood inside it. Grian held back for a moment, taking it in and basking in the sounds of his friends’ voices. Finally, he wasn’t the new one anymore--a few people had rejoined the server in the last world, but they’d all been old friends, not new ones. That had left him being the most recent addition, not that anything felt like it was recent anymore.

Grian was already thinking of ways to prank the new hermits and draw them into the life of the server.

“Alright Mumbo!” Xisuma said. Grian grinned. Mumbo was supposed to introduce them. Mumbo, of course, didn’t know this, because where’s the fun in that?

“Oh-oh me?”

“It’s go time!” Cleo said.

“This is it!” said Xisuma.

“I’ve clearly very obviously been put up to this,” Mumbo started. “And because everyone thought it’d be much funnier to have me bumble through it without really knowing what I’m talking about, and that is definitely going to be the case!”

The hermits chuckled. Grian walked around the back of the group to try to catch a glimpse of the new people below.

“We do have two new hermits,” Mumbo said, “down in this crevice.”

Grian caught a glimpse of red and brown hair.

“GeminiTay-”

Grian’s world stopped and he felt his breath catch in his throat. She had her back to him, but he’d recognize her anywhere. Her brown hair spilled out from behind a black hoodie.

But she’s dead.

Was this some sort of cruel trick from the universe?

“-and PearlescentMoon.” The rest of the hermits cheered at the announcement, giving the new members a warm welcome. Grian said nothing, his mind spinning a mile a minute.

There was no way it was actually her. The Watchers . . . the Watchers had killed her, and every other Evolutionist. Grian didn’t know why. He would never know why, because with the Watchers it was always “you can’t possibly understand.”And Grian couldn’t. When Grian had finally escaped them, he tried to go back to Evo. It was a foolish attempt, one that would certainly have endangered the lives of anyone there, but nobody had been left there and the buildings were all destroyed and overgrown with vines and Grian had been forced to conclude the heavy truth that all of his old friends were gone.

He didn’t remember what he did after that. He just ran.

Before he could stop himself, the words came tumbling out of his mouth. “Pearl? Is that really you?”

She turned, hearing her name and--it was. It was her. Her hair had blonde highlights around the bangs now, but he’d recognize her anywhere, like her face and the faces of all the other Evolutionists were seared into his brain.

“. . . Grian?”

Grian just stared.

The other hermits had caught onto their mini debacle, and were watching them. “Grian, do you know her?” Mumbo asked.

“Y-yeah, I do,” he stammered.

“Grian?” Pearl shouted, and in an instant had scrambled up the ditch. She stopped in front of him, face pale and eyes wide, like she’d seen a ghost. Maybe he was a ghost, maybe he’d died the day they took him from Evo.

“Pearl,” he whispered.

Suddenly she threw her arms around Grian in a hug and squeezed. “Oh, it’s been so long,” she said, voice muffled.

Grian froze, but slowly reciprocated the hug. He felt numb and like he wanted to cry and scream at the same time, hands shaking, but Pearl’s warm embrace drew him back down to reality.

Pearl pulled away, blinked tears from her eyes and met Grian’s stare. Then, her gaze drifted further down, landing on his folded wings that peaked out just above his shoulders. Tentatively, she reached out to stroke a feather. “What happened to you?” she asked softly.

“I thought you were dead,” Grian said by way of answer.

“Well, I’m not,” Pearl said, and for a moment Grian almost didn’t believe her, and grabbed her wrist tightly, just to see if it was real. Pearl let him. “They took you,” she said.

Grian just looked at the ground, uncomfortably aware of how many people were watching him. Ironic, almost--he didn’t want them watching him so that they wouldn’t know about the Watchers. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the hermits. He did. He’d trust them all with his life a thousand times. He just . . . didn’t want to explain. The hermits were a good bunch. The unspoken rule was that you didn’t ask about anyone’s past unless they spoke first, and Grian knew they’d abide by that for him as well. But he could do without the turned heads.

“Alright everyone!” Xisuma shouted suddenly, startling Grian. “Let’s go, let’s get to work, this season won’t start itself!” Slowly, the hermits began to disperse, branching off into groups. “How’re ya gonna start the season if you don't chop down a tree? I’ll get to work protecting these villagers.”

Xisuma threw a glance over to them, and Grian mouthed a thank you. Xisuma just nodded, and left them alone. Grian was overwhelmed with relief at the admin’s gesture.

He turned back to Pearl.

“I-I can’t believe you’re actually here,”Grian said. He smiled and the moment he met her gaze, his eyes began to blur with tears.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” she cried. “When we got back from fighting the enderdragon you . . . you were just gone. They left a note for us . . . said it was necessary for you to be taken. All in rhyme, of course.”

“Of course it was in rhyme . . .'' Grian muttered, suddenly very angry. All the Watchers and their unknowable ways, always distilled down to some pithy saying. A life-changing event relayed to his friends in another stupid little poem. He’d written a few himself and despised it.

“I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again. Do you . . . do you mind if I ask what happened?” Pearl asked. “I’m just happy to see you here but I-”

“No, it’s alright,” Grian said with a sigh. “They took me after I fought the enderdragon, and said I was going to be one of them. I didn’t want to go but-well what could I do? So I went with them, and they promised to let me hang around the server. They lied to me, they never let me Watch Evo.” Grian paused, and felt the cool trail of a tear dripping down his cheek. “They later told me you were all dead.”

“Oh, Grian,” Pearl said, and pulled him into another hug, and that was it for him. He began to sob.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. ��It’s just a lot-”

“I know, I know,” she whispered.

“They-they . . . I didn’t enjoy it there. So I, I ran away. I tried to visit Evo but--there was nobody there. I figured they told the truth then, that you really were dead. I ran and found the hermits and I’ve been living with them every since, and oh they’re so wonderful but I could never forget-”

“It’s okay.” Pearl comforted. “I know, I know. We came home after finding the dragon and our place was ransacked, and we were given instructions to leave. And . . . eventually after we left, the group disbanded and we went our separate ways. But, we’re all alive.”

“Really?” Grian asked.

“Yes.”

“Everyone?”

“Yes.”

“Can I- can I see them?” he whispered. It felt forbidden.

“Of course!” Pearl exclaimed. “I’ve kept in touch with everyone, I’m sure Xisuma could help you visit if you asked.”

“Xisuma . . .” Grian thought aloud. “I haven’t told him,” Grian admitted. The admin certainly knew something was up with Grian, because players didn’t normally randomly appear in worlds they weren’t supposed to, but he’d welcomed Grian with open arms to the server and never asked a single question.

“I’m sure he would understand.”

“He would, but Pearl, I don’t want to put anyone in danger! I’m not supposed to be here!” Grian hissed.

“So then don’t tell him everything. Just say you want to visit some people. He’ll understand, I know he will,” she replied. Grian pondered it for a moment. She was right--he could just ask to visit someone. Other hermits did it all the time. Maybe--maybe a few server hops wouldn’t cause a problem. Maybe this was something within his reach, after all this time. The thought exhilarated him.

“But please,” Pearl added. “Please tell someone else, not just me. How long have you been hiding?”

Too long.

Grian didn’t answer, and the two of them stood there and listened to the crash of the waves on the nearby shoreline. The air was hot and salty, and in the distance he could hear Xisuma opening and closing doors in the village.

He didn’t know what he felt, it was like too many emotions had happened in too short of a period of time and left him burned out like a forest after a wildfire. His hands had stopped trembling, but he felt deeply tired.

Happy. You feel happy.

Grian’s communicator chimed from within his pocket. He withdrew it.

GoodTimeWithScar > Grian: are you okay

Grian smiled, and typed a response.

Grian > GoodTimeWithScar: yes

“Who was that?” Pearl asked.

“Scar. He wanted to know if I was okay.”

“Are you?”

Grian met her eyes. “I am now.” It was close enough to the truth. Grian shifted his weight between his feet, suddenly restless and tired from trying to process all this new information. “Speaking of other hermits, we should get going, yeah? We can’t let them get all the resources without us!”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she chuckled. The hermits had already spread out seeking resources, but not too far yet; Grian and Pearl could still see several of them talking to each other across the field.

“Pearl, before you go--” Grian started, looking serious. “Build next to me, alright? I...I want you to be around.”

“I promise,” she replied.

◑ ━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━ ◐

“Why are you following me?” Grian knew why, but he wanted Mumbo to bring it up. He was torn--on one hand, he truly appreciated his friend’s concern. It was nice that others were looking out for him, a warm reminder of what their little community stood for. On the other hand . . . he’d really have just appreciated being left alone.

“You look like you have a purpose!” Mumbo exclaimed instead.

Huh.

Grian shook his head. “I’m just heading north,” he replied, shielding his eyes and looking up to see the position of the sun.

“I was just like, ‘Man, it looks like he knows where he’s going,’” Mumbo continued and Grian laughed.

They walked to the edge of the swamp, and began to cut down the trees. Starter tools were a necessity in a new world, and they had no stone.

“Ugh, I have to take down this whole tree, and then I have to replant it,” complained Mumbo.

“Wait-why have you got to replant it?” asked Grian incredulously, while getting wood for himself and not replanting the tree.

“Well I-I can’t just deforest things!”

This is going to be SO much fun to tease Mumbo with.

“Whatever you say, tree boy.”

They continued to work, getting wood, and then venturing into a shallow cave to get stone. The whole time their coms kept buzzing, buzzing, buzzing with combat death messages. Just another day in the hermitcraft world, thought Grian. Have they declared a spontaneous war up there? Either way, Pearl and Gem were getting the full introduction today, he thought with a chuckle.

Exiting the cave, they spotted a shipwreck not too far away, and decided to explore it. Grian pulled out a soggy buried treasure map, and they decided to go after it in a boat. Grian wanted to relax in the boat, to just breathe in the sea spray and try to calm his still-racing thoughts, but unfortunately Mumbo was the driver, and he was not a very good driver if you asked Grian. Grian had been tasked with navigation, which was a difficult thing when the driver couldn’t see the map you were describing.

The loot was good, and they divided it between themselves and then struck onward in the boat, this time with Grian commandeering the vessel. They looped back around to the shipwreck only to find a group of hermits that were a little too late to the prize. Pearl, Ren, and Doc were gathered around the boat looking a bit disappointed.

Mumbo and Grian decided to taunt them.

“Who got the loot?” shouted Ren.

“We got the loot!” Grian shouted back.

“Oh it was you guys,” said Pearl. Grian stuck his tongue out at her and cackled.

They looped back around to show off the Heart of the Sea, but Mumbo dropped their only diamond by accident and that was when Grian decided to steer the boat away before they lost any more valuables.

“I can’t believe you dropped the diamond,” Grian sighed.

“I was flexing too hard, I’m sorry!” cried Mumbo.

It was too comical, and Grian couldn’t be mad at his friend. They rowed on, closely following the coastline. After a few minutes, however, Mumbo asked a question.

“The new hermit, who we just saw with Doc and Ren--Pearl--is it. . . is it okay if I ask how you know her?” Mumbo spoke gently, knowing he was treading around a potentially sensitive topic. Grian knew the topic would have come up eventually, after he’d basically had a breakdown in public when he saw her.

Grian stopped the boat, and looked into the water, not at Mumbo’s face. “Yeah, I figured you’d ask. We used to be on a world together. The . . . the world I was at before I came here, actually.” It wasn’t the full truth, since he’d been to many worlds as a Watcher and had lived on the Watchers’ world for a while. But Evo had been his last home.

“Oh,” said Mumbo.

“We were friends,” continued Grian. “We were close. But I was told she was dead. Clearly, though,” he just simply gestured instead of finishing the sentence.

“Clearly she’s not dead,” Mumbo finished. “I see. Who told you she was dead?”

“Someone who didn’t have my best interests at heart.” Grian had never fully told his friend about what had happened before he joined hermitcraft, but the other man knew that it was a difficult past and had comforted him on more than one occasion--mostly after he’d first joined and the pain was still fresh. It had dulled with time and Grian had become more and more adjusted to his new life.

Seeing Pearl again was a miracle, but it sure sharpened the pain.

Grian rested his elbows on the side of the boat and pressed the heels of his palm into his eyes. “It wasn’t just her, either, they told me everyone on the server was dead. And-they’re all alive. All of them. It’s fantastic news, brilliant news, I’m just-”

“Thinking of the people who didn’t have your best interests at heart?”

“Yeah.”

Mumbo laid a hand on Grian’s shoulder. “I don’t know who they are,” he began, “but I know they’re not here now. You have us now, and you have Pearl here too. That all is in the past.”

Grian stared out over the water, watching as the sunlight sparkled and danced over the waves. “You’re a good friend, you know that right?”

“Well, I do try to be,” Mumbo chuckled. “Now-I think we should probably go pick up Scar over there, I think the poor man is going to drown!”

“Oh no!” Grian said, and scrambled for the oars, and then they were off.

◑ ━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━ ◐

When Grian, Impulse, Scar, and Mumbo created the Boatem Pole, Pearl was there to join them.

When Grian woke up in his makeshift camp the next morning, he was happy to see Pearl setting up her own starter base on the other side of the Boatem Pole.

When Grian showed up at Xisuma’s base two days later, he asked for permission to visit other servers.

#hermitcraft #hermitblr #grian #pearlescentmoon #hermitcraft fanfic #mumbo jumbo #hermitcraft season 8 #quara fanfic

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crysalita · 3 years

Text

The Plan to Kill

Bo Sinclair x reader

Word Count: 1735

Warnings: Death, cursing. (This was rushed, so my apologies for how bad it turned out)

I was just getting out of bed when Bo barged in, panting heavily as he held himself up with the door. “Show time, darlin’.” He smirked.

I sighed as I began getting dressed. I was going to be used as a sense of comfort for the newly found victims. They were most likely already freaked out by Lester, or Bo himself, and I would have to go out there and convince them that I’m friendly, and all I want to do is help.

I walked out of the house and met up with Bo, who was already outside waiting for me. “What’s the plan today?” I asked as we began walking back into town.

“There’s three of ‘em comin’ in with Lester, one girl and two guys. You, little lady, will lead the third wheel away from the other two. Get him to walk around House of Wax while waitin’ for their parts. Then once Vincent deals with him, I want you to come runnin’ back to the station all frightened.” I nodded along to Bo’s explanation, and before I knew it, we had arrived in town. “They should be 'ere soon, act like your walkin’ past the station, that way they won’t suspect a thing.” Bo leaned down and placed a kiss to my cheek before gesturing to the direction of the station.

I looked back at Bo one last time only to see his eyes glued to the lower half of my body. I rolled my eyes at his behaviour and began walking off.

I waited in alleyway where I was able to get a clear view of the three teenagers walking around and being as loud as they possible could. I scoffed at their childish behaviour and prepared myself for what was about to come.

I revealed myself from the alleyway and headed into the direction of the station where I could hear all the noise coming from.

I wasn’t sure what to do when the three people were inside, thinking they weren’t going to notice me, until I heard a voice calling out to me. “Hey!” I stopped walking and turned around to face the three. “Do you know who works here?” The taller one called out. He was the one that had a girl clinging onto his arm whereas the second guy kept his distance.

“Bo does. He not in there?” I asked stupidly as I approached the group.

“No, he isn’t.”

“I don’t really know him, but he could be at the church, I heard there was a funeral going on.” I suggested.

“Shit. Do you know how long he will be? I don’t really wanna interrupt a funeral.”

“He could be another hour, or so.” I replied. I watched as they all looked over at one another and began speaking.

“There isn’t anyone else that works here by any chance?” I shook my head.

“Bo’s the best we have in this small town.” I shrugged. “Speakin’ of which, since your waitin’, why don’t I show you 'round the House of Wax? Entertain you guys instead of sittin’ here, bored out of your minds.” I suggested. I hid the smile that threatened to reveal itself.

“Yeah, you know what. How about my boy, Jake over here, goes with you?” The taller one nudged his friend forward who awkwardly looked around.

“Sounds like a date.” I smiled. I held my hand out to Jake who looked down at it before hesitantly taking it.

“Have fun, Jake!” His friends called out as we walked away.

“Well Jake, I’m Y/n.” I continued to hold the boys hand who was constantly squeezing my own. “What brings you guys to Ambrose?”

“Going away on a trip, and then the car broke down.” He kept his answer short, meaning he wasn’t yet trusting me, which was understandable. I didn’t know what more to do to make him give in.

“Doesn’t sound very fun for you, having to be the third wheel and all. I know personally it would suck for me, but hey, I’ll keep you company.” I smiled brightly to the boy as I skipped ahead, finally letting go of his hand. “You’ll love the House of Wax. People always come in just to see it, after all, it’s the only thing you can really do here.”

I pointed over to the big sign that announced the House of Wax. “Look, there it is.”

I rushed a head and entered the building made completely out of wax. Noticing that Vincent was standing there, I quickly ushered him to leave. “I got someone coming.” I whispered. Vincent quickly nodded his head and hid away in the shadows.

As Jake pushed through the doors, I jumped out and scared him. He jumped backwards and hit the wall causing me to laugh. “Got ya’” I chuckled. He lightly laughed along as he shook his head.

“You were right. This place is amazing.” He was in awe as he looked around at everything. “A bit weird though.” He said as he poked at one of the wax figures.

“Weird?” I questioned as I tilted my head to the side.

“Yeah, I’d be terrified if I woke up to one of these in my room. I think I’d be terrified if I had one of these at all. They look freakishly realistic.” He explained as he walked around. “Even the walls are made out of wax, it truly is a house of wax.”

“Well no shit. That’s the point.” I followed behind Jake as he wandered around.

I glanced behind me and noticed Vincent moving around behind me. A smirk threatened to show, but instead I hid it by pointing at some more artwork.

It wasn’t much longer before I noticed Vincent creeping up from behind Jake out of the corner of my eyes, but instead of reacting I kept my eyes glued to the art.

“What the fuck?” Jake mumbled. He turned around and immediately backed up when he saw Vincent. “Who the fuck are you?”

I feigned fear when Jake looked back at me. “Who is this guy?” He asked. I shrugged my shoulders and watched as Vincent pulled out his infamous knives.

“Oh my gosh.” I gasped as I pointed over at Vincent. “Run!” I screamed as I took off out of the room, Jake following behind me.

I ran to the front door and fumbled with the handle, slowing us down so that Vincent could get to us. I looked over my shoulder to see Vincent grabbing a hold of the teenager and shoving him down to the ground. He let out a cry when Vincent stomped on his stomach.

I quickly ran out the door and let out a breath as I began to walk back to the station.

I took my time walking back to the station and when I saw Bo coming out, I picked up my pace and began sobbing.

Everyone’s attention was snapped towards me as I ran down to them. “Jake- he-” I stammered before breaking down.

Bo approached me; his smile hidden by the fact that the other two were behind him. “What happened darlin’?” He asked as he brought his hands to my face.

“Where’s Jake? What happened to him?” Jake’s friends questioned.

“We were at the House of Wax, looking around, and then this guy came out of nowhere. He was wearing a mask, and then he attacked us. I tried to get Jake out, but-” I stopped mid-sentence to let out a fake cry as I fell into Bo’s arms.

“We need to go get Jake.” The boy announced, his girlfriend seemed hesitant as she glanced around.

“We’ll all go together, four against one, what can he do?” Bo suggested as I started to recover from my breakdown. The other two nodded their heads and we started making our way to the House of Wax.

“Good performance.” Bo leaned down to whisper in my ear. I lit up at his praise as we came closer to the building.

“This is it. He’s in there, last I checked.” Bo took the lead as he pushed open the door, me following close behind him. I looked over at the other two who seemed nervous.

“Are you sure we should go in there?” The girl mumbled to her boyfriend.

“Jake’s our friend, we can’t leave him behind.” He scoffed.

When the door opened, it revealed a trail of blood leading down to where I knew Vincent’s cave was. I gasped at the mess. “This was where I left him.”

“You just left him here? Why the fuck didn’t you help him.” The boy shoved at my shoulder causing me to bump into Bo.

“Hey! Don’t put ya’ filthy hands on my girl.” Bo stepped in front of me to size the other guy up.

“Wait, you guys are together? You said you didn’t really know him.” The attention was brought back to me, and I noticed Vincent sneaking up behind the two teens.

“Oops.” I dramatically put my hand to my lips as if I had just said something that I shouldn’t have.

Then it all began.

Vincent hit the girl over the back of the head with a chunk of wood and then whipped out one of his knives.

Bo charged at the last man standing and they tumbled to the ground, the girl lying unconscious on the ground. Vincent rushed over to me and dragged me to the front, pushing me through it. He held his hand out to me, gesturing for me to stay here.

I sighed as the door was then shut in my face.

Listening through the door, I was able to hear grunts and cries of pain, none of which sounded familiar, thankfully, and it wasn’t much longer until the door was opened to reveal Bo.

“All done.” He clapped his hands together. Bo pulled me in for a side hug and then left his arm around my shoulder as he led me away from the House of Wax and up to the house. “Didn’t know who he was messin’ with.” Bo spoke up as he placed a kiss to the side of my head. “Puttin’ his hands on my girl like that.” He scoffed.

“Okay, hulk.” I mocked.

“Laughin’ now, won’t be when I get you back home.” I was suddenly scooped up into Bo’s arms and lifted off the ground.

#Bo Sinclair #Bo Sinclair x reader #House of Wax #house of wax 2005 #Slashers #Slashers x reader

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kouomi · 3 years

Text

Counting Down To You

Summary: When meeting your soulmate is a matter of life or death, is it possible to beat the clock and find them in time? (F!Reader x Sakusa Kiyoomi)

Warnings: talking about death, some sadness, fluff at end, sad to happy

Word count: 3,010

A/N: sorry for not posting in a while! Pulled this out of my drafts, there might be a lil sequel/separate ending to this later!

Masterlist

Posted: April 27th, 2021, 5:30 PM EST

Everyone had countdowns from the moment they were born. It was a ticking time bomb within every person that would be lethal to not only them, but their soulmate as well when it detonated. The whole system of having a soulmate was a double edged sword; sure, if you managed to escape it you met your soulmate, but the slightest slip up could lead you to a grave.

The timer started when you or your soulmate was made aware of the other, such as hearing their name for the first time or seeing a picture. Everyone’s timer was set at different times, most people having a couple decades while some of the lucky ones have a hundred years, or the unlucky only a few years, months, weeks, or even days. When the timer starts it’s simply your soulmates initial and a date on your wrist, but when it got to the last 7 days, the timer turned into one that looked like a clock, slowly ticking off the seconds until left you had to meet them or die.

The death wasn’t immediate, it was more like a sickness. It wasn’t able to be cured even by meeting your soulmate, for as soon as the timer ran out, so did your chance of survival. Once the last second ran out the timer disappeared and was replaced with your soulmates name as if it would be any help at that point. Three days was all you were given after the timer ran out. Three measly days to say goodbye to everything and everyone you knew.

There were other ways other than seeing someone’s timer to tell if their time was running out. Once it turned from a date to hours the person started to become “sick” their body weaker and more noticeably a cough. It was horrible to watch but an even worse feeling was it happening to you.

When your timer started, you were given exactly a year. It felt like a cruel joke that at the age of fifteen you were only given a year to find your soulmate or die, but the date on your wrist was a constant reminder it was reality. You tried for almost that entire year to find him, to find the one with a matching timer and who matched the initial on your wrist but it was useless. Even if you managed to find them you’d have to kiss them to stop the timer and you couldn’t go around kissing every stranger who’s name happened to start with K. By the last two weeks you’d given up, finally coming to terms with the fact you were going to die and there was nothing you could do about it.

You were in Tokyo for the national volleyball tournament as you were accompanying the team you managed, happy to at least be in a beautiful city for your last few days on earth. A gentle breeze picked up your hair and blew it around your shoulders, a few stray strands waving in front of your face as you stared at the quiet city streets below. It was oddly peaceful, a sense of a calm before the storm blanketing the night and preserving the moment around you.

“Y/n/n?” A familiar voice asks from behind you, “What’re ya doin out here, it’s freezing.”

Turning around you see one of your closest friends, Miya Atsumu walked out on to the balcony where you stood, leaning on the railing. You’d noticed the freezing air nipping at your bare skin but hadn’t paid much mind to it, your mind to focused on other things to care about the cold.

“Waiting.” You answered, returning your gaze to the sky as he walked over to stand next to you.

“Waitin for what?”

You glance at your phone screen, seeing it read 11:59 before moving your arm up so it rested underside up on the metal railing. Just as you did so the date on your wrist disappeared and was replaced with a timer, the seconds slowly ticking away.

“That.” You sigh, taking notice of the way the normally positive atmosphere that followed Atsumu had faded, “167 hours, 59 minutes, and 47 seconds left.”

“Hey, maybe we’ll find them here!” He exclaims, a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes crossing his face, “There’s thousands of people!”

“I can’t go around kissing thousands of random people, Tsu.” You chuckle, pushing off of the railing and walking back to the door, “Come on.”

“I have an idea!” The blonde gasps before rushing inside, making you give him a quizzical look as he frantically looks around the room.

“Why are ya yelling at midnight?” An authoritative voice asks, making Atsumu freeze momentarily before he turns around.

“Kita! Yer name starts with K right?”

“Do I really need to answer that?”

“Atsumu, I know what you’re thinking and no.” You say, watching as his shoulders droop.

“Why not?!”

“Kitas timer hasn’t even started yet.”

“It’s worth a shot! He has the right initials, doesn’t he?”

Both you and the captain blink at him before glancing at each other and shaking your heads.

“They’re backwards.” Kita states, Atsumus face falling at the realization, “Hers say S.K. mine are K.S.”

“Thanks anyway Tsu.” You smile, your hand resting on his shoulder as you walk past him and down the hall, “Don’t worry about it. I still have a week to watch you guys win. Good night.”

The two boys watch you leave, a sad feeling encompassing the room as you disappear down the hallway. The silence hangs in the air as if saying it’s own piece to the drastic weight of the situation, the weight pulling down on the two making their shoulders visibly slump as they continue to stare where you once stood.

“Stop looking at ‘er like she’s already dead.” Kita says, making Atsumu jump. “Yer just gonna make ‘er feel worse.”

Almost as soon as you’d slipped through the door of your room you collapsed on to your bed, an empty feeling filling your chest as you pulled your blanket over your head. Sure, you’d come to terms with the fact you were going to die, but it didn’t stop the horrible feeling that weighed down your heart as it set in that this was your last week. In another week you’d probably be in a hospital bed with all of your friends giving you sad pitiful looks as you slowly withered away, left with nothing other than the name of the soulmate you’d failed to meet in time.

Were they panicking as well? Were they doing everything they possibly could to find you so you could both survive? This was the greatest chance you had to find them seeing as you were in the city and at a large event, but what were the chances of them even being there?

Your worries and questions followed you into your sleep, dried tear tracks staining your face as you fought to get any rest.

Even in your dreams you found yourself on the brink of death, a man standing just out of reach. He was so close, you could feel the fabric of his jacket just barely brush past your fingertips. He was so so close, yet so impossibly far, you found the last slivers of hope you held for finding this stranger in time slipping away just as he began to walk out of your view.

3 hours 26 minutes and 17 seconds

They’d lost. You watched with a hallow expression as the boys dressed in orange and the entire stadium cheered for Karasuno and their victory, while your team was almost frozen in time in disbelief at the final score. After what felt like hours you all walked off the court, silence haunting the group as they all sulked.

“I’m sorry Y/n.”

You turn around and see a few of the boys standing in front of you almost at the brink of tears, their sad gazes only getting worse as they fell upon you.

“Ya said that you’d be watching us win until...” Atsumu continues, his hand clenching into a fist as he trails off, “But we lost. Sorry.”

“Stop being so dramatic, Tsu.” You say, making his expression turn to one of surprise as he and his brother look to you, “Just being able to see you guys play like that was good enough. Especially seeing that quick attack. Man, that was cool!”

They both smile slightly and so do you, walking closer and hugging them both with one arm. You close your eyes for a moment and relish in the hug, imprinting the feeling on your mind as one of your favorite. They squeeze you to themselves though you don’t mind, the three of you standing there for what felt like hours. You wished you could stay there for hours, stand in the arms of the people you considered family. You wanted to stay with them, with the whole team and make more memories, to keep living with them. Your heart ached for the wish as you knew it was an impossible request, knowing this most likely would be the last time you could hug them. If only there was more time, just a few more days. But the timer on your wrist continues to tick, the seconds going by and your time running out.

After a while you finally let go and walked out with the others, the air not as heavy as it previously was though the discord in your head running wild.

0 hours 10 minutes and 43 seconds

“Hey Y/n, are you coming?” Aran asks, standing on the first stair of the bus and looking to you.

You look down at your wrist and read the numbers, feeling a pull at your heart.

“I’m gonna take a walk really quick, can you guys wait a few minutes?” You ask.

He nods, hiding his worry for you behind a slight frown before he climbs into the bus, the doors shutting behind him and the engine starting as the bus waits to leave.

You sigh as you turn around and start walking down the sidewalk, a cough racking your sore body as you did so. Everything hurt and your legs resisted every movement, but you refused to spend these few minutes stuck in the bus.

0 hours 2 minutes and 24 seconds

Finally you came across a bench where you collapsed, a grunt leaving your body as you finally relieve your legs of your weight. Your head was thrown back on the back of the bench and you stared up at the cloudless sky, the stars seeming to laugh as they stared at your disheveled state.

“Could you not sit so close?”

You turn your head to the side and see another person on the bench next to you. With a sigh you scoot over, wincing at the burning sensation in your arms as you do so. The stranger hunches over himself and you hear the all too familiar sound of coughing, their fit lasting almost an entire minute before they straighten themselves out again.

“Are you okay?” You ask, turning your gaze away from the sky to look at them.

“Fine.” He mumbles though another cough gives away his lie, “There’s not enough time for me to care.”

You give a light laugh, a cough of your own stopping it short. “Time’s a bitch, huh?”

“Sure.”

0 hours 0 minutes and 53 seconds

“What’s your name?” You ask after a few seconds of silence.

“... Sakusa. Sakusa Kiyoomi.”

Your heart seems to stop as you hear this, the world around you suddenly coming to a halt as you blink at him.

“You’re joking right?” You ask in disbelief. Surely this was some kind of messed up prank, it wasn’t possible.

“Why would I be joking?” He responds, “Who’re you?”

“Y/n. Y/l/n.”

You see his eyes widen as he turns to face you, his once defeated appearance gaining new life though the exhaustion is still visible in his droopy shoulders and bags under his eyes. Despite the mask covering half of his face you could tell he was attractive, dark brown eyes that bore into yours slightly obscured by long curls. There were two moles on his forehead that were hardly visible in the low light, his intense expression almost forcing you to look away.

0 hours 0 minutes and 32 seconds

“Are you...” He starts, eyes glancing down for a moment, “Your wrist.”

0 hours 0 minutes and 27 seconds

You read the number in your head as you held out a shaky arm for him to see, a small gasp leaving your lips as he holds out his own for you to see a timer in sync with your own and your initials just below it.

0 hours 0 minutes and 20 seconds

“I’m... we’re not gonna die.” You breathe, your eyes moving up and meeting his again, “I know we just met but I don’t think there’s enough time for us to spare.”

He blinks at you, almost too shocked to respond.

0 hours 0 minutes and 16 seconds

“Can I kiss you?” You ask, anxiously waiting for his response.

0 hours 0 minutes and 13 seconds

Sakusa doesn’t say anything, his other hand unsteadily reaching up to pull his mask off.

0 hours 0 minutes and 8 seconds

Almost in slow motion he leans closer to you, his body almost towering over your own as he rests on one of his hands.

0 hours 0 minutes and 5 seconds

You see your breath in the cold air as you tilt your head up to look at him, fighting back the cough in your lungs as everything around you seems to be slowly clicking into place.

0 hours 0 minutes and 3 seconds

You lean closer to him, his breath dancing on your lips. Just before you meet your body seems to give out beneath you, this small slip up seeming as if it’s been waiting to rip away your last few seconds to save your life.

0 hours 0 minutes and 2 seconds

Sakusas other arm shoots out and hooks under your back, holding you up and closer to himself.

0 hours 0 minutes and 1 second

As soon as you were supported in his grasp you leaned up and pressed your lips against his, your eyes fluttering shut as you put all of your hope and fear into this one moment. The kiss is short but it felt as if something you were missing all your life, your body feeling reenergized and the air escaping your lungs as you pull away.

You blink at each other for a moment before you both look at your wrists, joy filling you both when you see the timer stopped at one second. Below it where there was once only two letters is now each other’s names, the sight making butterflies fly through your stomach.

Realizing his arm was still around you, a light blush dusts your cheeks as you suddenly acknowledge how close you were to each other.

“Y/n?” You hear Atsumu yell from down the street, Sakusas arm pulling away from you as he approaches. “We were lookin all over for you, are ya okay?”

“I’m okay.” You smile, “And you don’t need to find a replacement for me just yet.”

“Huh?” He asks, finally noticing the boy next to you, “Oh hey Sakusa, what’re ya doin- wait.”

“Hi.” He says, cringing as Atsumu seems to explode.

“Y/n, you and Sakusa?!” He exclaims, “I can’t believe this!”

“Why are you yelling so much Tsu?” You ask though give him a smile, “Why were you looking for me?”

“Oh yeah, Coach wants to leave.” Atsumu answers, “And ya were gone a while, we got worried.”

“I’ll be there in a second.” You say, nodding for him to leave. He gives a loud “ohh” when he finally understands what you were implying, giving a thumbs up before jogging back the way he came.

“I should probably head back too.” Sakusa says, standing from the bench and stumbling slightly.

“Sakusa?” You ask, standing as well. He turns around, pulling his mask back over his face and shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Kiyoomi.” He says in an almost shy tone.

“Kiyoomi.” You repeat, smiling slightly at his name, “Can I get your number?”

“Y/n yer back!” One of the boys yells as you climbed on to the bus, taking one of the free seats.

“Yep.” You grin, all of them giving you a strange look before you hold up your wrist, the once gloomy atmosphere turning joyful as you’re practically tackled out of your seat and into a giant mess of a group hug.

“Yer not gonna die?” Osamu asks in a whisper, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“No, I’m not.” You respond, your arms wrapping around all of them and squeezing. “Now can you all stop crying? You’re gonna make me cry.”

There’s a small series of laughs as you’re somehow held tighter, the tension the last thing on your mind as you close your eyes. What had once felt bittersweet now brought joy to you as you relished in the feeling of being with the people you considered family. Finally, after a year of living your life as if it was your last moments, you were able to stop; to take a moment to breathe. That one kiss had freed you of the chains of a ticking clock and given you the thing you’d only ever dreamed of: more time.

As you all were forced to pull away by your coaches telling you to get in your seats your mind wandered to the boy who’d made this possible. Sakusa Kiyoomi, though he was still a stranger to you, had made a spot for himself in your thoughts as well as bringing butterflies through your stomach. Maybe with the extra time he’d given you, you could spend it with him.

Kiyoomi. You thought, thanks for being my soulmate.

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nastybuckybarnes · 3 years

Text

Joke’s on You

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: Bucky’s fuckboy tendencies get the better of him. But you show him you’re not gonna be tossed around like a toy. This time, he gets the shit end of the stick.

Warnings: Language, Angst, Smut, Fighting, Angst,

Word Count: 4.3K

A/N: Okay fellas. Here she is. The third instalment of Gangsta. Now, this one can be read in the series or as a standalone. Based on Charlotte Lawerence’s ‘Joke’s on You’ (Both regular and acoustic.) and also on Love the Way you Lie obvi cause angst and toxic relationships hehe. I’ve got the next part almost fully written and lemme warn y’all, it’s a tearjerker. So good luck!

Gangsta

I see Red

Jokes On You

Habits (Coming soon)

~*~

“Hey, Steve.” He nods at you, arm resting on the back of the seat just behind your shoulders. “Waitin’ for him?” You nod, lips pursed as you cross your arms on the table.

The club is loud, music thumping under your feet and people chattering all around you. Your eyes scour the club, looking for James.

You feel Steve stiffen a moment before you find him, and then you realize why Steve reacted the way he did.

Bucky’s standing at the bar, flirting and chatting up a busty brunette waitress. You grind your teeth together, watching the way he looks her up and down.

“I’m sure he’s just being friendly?” Steve offers, cringing when you turn your glare on him.

“That’s the problem. If I ever get that friendly with a guy I’ll never hear the end of it. I fucking hate that this is such a double standard. I’m not gonna just sit around and watch him get with random bitches. Not anymore.” You make to stand up, halting when Steve grabs your hand.

“At least dance with me. Not someone that he’s gonna kill for no reason.” You ponder this, glancing over to your boyfriend once more and making your mind up quickly. The brunette is leaning in, her lips almost touching his face.

You grab Steve’s hand and haul him towards the dance floor, ignoring the way you can feel Bucky’s eyes on you. You spin around in Steve’s arms, pressing your back against his front and moving your hips against him.

He grips your waist, his head resting over your shoulder, lips just barely brushing the shell of your ear.

You slowly open your eyes, looking over to where Bucky’s sitting, his jaw clenched and his eyes focused on you.

The waitress is gone for the moment, but two glasses sit on the counter beside him, one of them stained with red lipstick.

He raises his eyebrows at you and you cock your head to the side before reaching over your shoulder and grabbing a handful of Steve’s hair. Bucky’s eyes flash a warning at him and you only roll your eyes in return, before tugging Steve’s head down and craning your neck back to smash your lips against his.

He’s stunned for a minute, before kissing you back with passion, his teeth grazing over your bottom lip. His hands trail up your body, cupping your breasts through the thin material of your dress and groping them roughly.

You pull away after a moment, panting hard. When you open your eye they immediately flicker to Bucky, a frown crossing your face when you see him once again talking to the brunette.

Huffing a frustrated breath, you tug out of Steve’s arms and strut over to the bar, smiling sweetly at your boyfriend.

He hardly glances at you, only giving you attention when you clear your throat.

“I uh... I should get back to my table,” the waitress says, smiling at Bucky before walking away. His eyes stay on her backside and you scoff.

“Really, James?” He shrugs, playing it cool when all he wants to do is bend you over the counter and fuck you until the only thing you remember is his name.

“Yeah. Maybe don’t come home tonight. She and I are really hitting it off. She’s got a tongue stud and said she’d let me see her nipple rings.”

You scoff again, shaking your head at him.

“Yeah, whatever. When you’re done being a prick let me know. I’m staying with Steve tonight. Maybe when you grow up a bit and can talk about whatever doubts you’re having about our relationship, then I’ll come home. But not before then.”

He watches you walk away, his heart aching and his mind racing. He doesn’t want to let you get away, but he has no choice. He can’t need you. He doesn’t want to need you. And yet here he is, needing you.

You walk up to Steve, your anger evident on your face.

“He being a dick again?” He asks, shaking his head in disappointment.

“Of fucking course he is! When is he not? God, sometimes I forget why we got together.” Steve chuckles, his hands holding your waist. “Because you guys are a match made in heaven? C’mon. I’ll take you home. I’m sure he’s just gonna get shitfaced then bum a ride from some poor defenceless college kid.” You nod, taking a deep breath but deciding that Steve’s probably right.

As you’re turning to the door, you see none other than your boyfriend leaving, one hand on the ass of the waitress as the two of them leave the club together.

“Jesus Christ he’s leaving with her,” you hiss, turning to glare at Steve.

“He’s an idiot. I’ll take you home.” You shake your head, determined to make a point.

“No. Take me to your place. He gets to go with a random bitch, fine. I’m going home with someone else too.” Steve sighs, knowing better than to argue with you when you’re in a mood like this.

The ride to his house is silent, the tension thick in the car as you stew in your anger.

Too many times has Bucky done this, pushed you away and fucked other girls, only to get mad at you whenever you attempt to do the same.

Fucking random guys would only get them killed, exactly how Steve said, however, Bucky cares too much about his best friend to kill him. Beat him to a pulp? Sure. But Bucky could never kill Steve.

As soon as you’re in Steve’s apartment you’re on him, mouth pressed tightly against his and hands pushing his jacket off of his shoulders. He pauses for a moment, pulling away to look at you carefully.

“Are you sure you wanna do this? You know he’s gonna find out.” You roll your eyes and step out of your dress, kicking it aside and standing bare in front of the blond.

“He can go fuck himself after fucking that waitress. If he does. And if he doesn't then he’ll finally know how I’ve felt all those times when he’s come home smelling like another woman.” Steve ponders this for a moment longer before grabbing you by the waist and pulling you tight against his body.

His kisses are fierce, all teeth and tongue and power and you allow yourself to get lost in the feeling. All thoughts of Bucky are shoved aside. He’s not a priority to you tonight.

No. The only thing on your mind is revenge.

And by God does Steve make it taste sweet.

~*~

Your head is pounding and you swear you feel like you’ve swallowed sand.

The sound of a door opening makes you pry your lids open, glancing over to the sound. Steve offers you a smile, a glass of water and a couple of pills in his hands.

You sit up and rub your face before grabbing the water and painkillers, downing them both quickly then groaning.

“Where’s my phone?” You croak, holding your hand out expectantly.

Steve hesitates and you feel the atmosphere change. You lift your head and look at him, brows drawn together.

“Give it to me now.” He sighs and pulls your phone out of his back pocket, tossing it over to you.

You catch it effortlessly, turning it on while your heart beats in your throat.

Your world crumbles slightly at the sight of your lock screen.

Zero notifications from him.

Not a text.

Not one single phone call.

Nothing.

You grind your teeth together and toss the blankets off of yourself, marching over to Steve’s dresser and grabbing a pair of his sweatpants and a t-shirt that’s at least two sizes too small for him.

“Give me your keys,” you demand, marching out of the room with murder on your mind.

Steve grabs your arm but you yank out of his grip.

“Think about what you’re doing before you do it, (Y/n). Please.” You take a few deep breaths then shake your head.

“I’m just gonna go talk to him. If he’s not serious about us then neither am I. I just want to see...” You trail off and Steve sighs, handing you the keys to his Ferrari.

“If you so much as scratch the paint I’ll-” “Yeah, yeah you’ll kill me I know. It’s fine I’ll just buy you a new one.”

You’re out the door before he can say anything else, keys jammed in the car’s ignition.

Steve would have a heart attack if he saw the way you were treating his baby.

And he would die on the spot if he saw the way you drove.

By the time you’re outside the apartment you and Bucky share, you’ve had some time to cool down.

That doesn't stop you from grabbing a knife out of the glove box though.

You hold it loosely in your dominant hand as you walk into the building then up through the elevator, the trip taking far more time than usual.

But then you’re outside of your apartment, ready to have a serious conversation about where the two of you stand with regards to your relationship.

You unlock the door and push your way into the apartment, stopping right in the doorway when you see not one but two people in your home.

A piece of your heart shatters and any semblance of composure is left a step behind you.

Bucky looks like a deer in headlights, his mind foggy, but yours is working just as well as it usually does, if not better.

The waitress from the night before stands before you in your boyfriend’s shirt, a confused look on her face.

You hold the knife tighter in your grasp and pounce, the blade just nicking her throat before Bucky yanks her out of the way.

She lets out a terrified scream, stumbling to the ground and scrambling away from you.

Before you can get her again Bucky’s got your arms pinned to your sides, his metal arm holding tightly to the arm that has the knife.

“Grace, you should probably leave,” He says softly, his eyes focused on the look of pure betrayal on your face.

The waitress gets up and gathers her things quickly, her eyes on you.

You eye her with nothing but pure hatred in your gaze, straining against his hold.

He doesn’t loosen his grip until she’s safely out the door, only then does he let you go.

But what a mistake.

Your anger is now directed at him and you swipe your blade up at him, catching the apple of his cheek and leaving an angry red slice across his pretty face.

“Fuck!” He jumps back, one hand coming up to the wound while the other extends defensively in front of himself.

You don’t follow him like he thought you would. No, instead you toss the knife aside and turn away from him.

He’s utterly confused at your behaviour. It’s not like anything you’ve ever done before.

He was prepared for anger, for wrath like no other. But this? This is new territory and he hates that.

You pour yourself a glass of whiskey and bring it over to the couch, plopping down and grabbing your phone out of your pocket. Bucky approaches you slowly as if you’re an animal ready to lash out at any moment. But you don’t.

“Baby?” He asks softly, waiting for the anger.

But he gets nothing in reply.

“I’d be using my time more wisely if I were you,” you say stoically, eyes on your phone as you fight tears.

“W-what do you mean?” He’s never felt genuine fear for his life before now.

“You have twenty-eight minutes left to get your shit and get out. Whatever’s left after that is getting burned. If you’re still here then you will also be on that list of things that will be getting burned.”

He’s shocked.

“What do you mean?” He repeats, taking a few hesitant steps closer to your figure. The way that you stay so unbothered, eyes on your phone as if he means nothing to you, it’s beyond concerning.

“I’m not going to repeat myself. It’s up to you if you want to take me seriously or not.” He’s not sure what to do, but he knows that he pushed you too far, if only from the way that you don’t give a single fuck about him.

“I-I’m sorry,” he tries, voice low and hands raised in surrender and fear, hoping to appeal to your human side.

Unfortunately for him, your human side is long gone.

“Mhm,” is all you say in reply, taking another sip of your drink and trying to remember where you keep the propane.

He starts moving then, packing up a bag that’s enough to last him a few days. He’s not sure if he should believe that you’ll actually burn his things, but he grabs all his valuables just in case.

The remaining twenty-five minutes go by far too quickly, and then he’s standing at the door, watching you rise to your feet with the utmost grace.

He watches as you start gathering up little knickknacks, stray socks and books of his, a bunch of pictures, a set of ridiculously expensive champagne glasses, and the necklace he got you for your last birthday. You toss it all into a cardboard box then head into the next room to gather more things.

His curiosity and want to preserve what little he can of the relationship gets the better of him and he hesitantly creeps his way over to the box, grabbing the pictures and the necklace.

A bullet narrowly misses his hand and he almost drops his belongings in his haste to get out of the line of fire, but you’ve got the barrel pointed directly at him again, finger hovering dangerously over the trigger.

“I told you: half an hour. You’re done. Get out. If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you.” He says nothing. Instead, he grabs his belongings and leaves without so much as a second glance.

~*~

“Have you tried talking to her? She seemed pretty pissed when she left my place.” Bucky glares at his friend, “You fucking asshole, don’t even try to give me advice, you’re the one who ruined this in the first place.”

Steve raises his brows and downs his scotch then actually laughs at his friend, the sound getting slightly drowned out by the noises in the bar

“Do I need to remind you who left the club first? You took that waitress home before (Y/n) and I even left. That’s the only reason I took her home. She would’ve fucked anybody in that club and then you would’ve gone and made a mess that I would’ve had to clean up. I took her home cause you and I both know I’ll take good care of her and won’t treat her like shit. She deserves the world, Buck, and you treat her like a piece of garbage.”

The brunet is silent as his friend tells him what he knows is true but really just doesn’t want to accept.

“That woman loves you, Buck. To the moon and back. With her whole fucking heart and soul and you stomp on it every damn chance you get. If she wasn’t so damn in love with you, I’d take her out. Wine and dine her real nice, just how she deserves. I’d show her what it’s like to be loved.”

The glass shatters in the brunet’s hand as he listens to his best friend talk about the way he’d treat the woman he loves.

“I get it! I’m a fucking idiot. I’ll go talk to her.” He drops a couple of bills on the table then marches out of the bar, trying to keep his composure and his confidence on the drive to the apartment.

He’s not sure what he’s going to say, but he knows he needs to apologize. He needs to tell you that he loves you and that you’re the only one he wants.

Hesitant knuckles knock against the door and he feels stupid. It’s his place too.

When he gets no reply he pushes the door open, his stomach dropping and his heart clenching tight in his chest.

It’s empty.

No furniture, no decorations, and not one single sign of you.

“(Y/n)?!” He calls, hand darting to the gun tucked into his pants as he explores the empty penthouse.

“(Y/n)?” His voice is softer but more desperate, the reality of the situation hitting him like a punch in the gut.

You’re gone.

He lost you. And he’s not sure if he’s gonna be able to get you back.

~*~

You shoulder your way into the tiny shithole that you’re calling home, brows drawn together and shoulders heavy with exhaustion.

“Love the new place.” You’ve got a gun raised and aimed at the voice, heart racing in your chest at the fact that you didn’t even realize they were here.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You demand, not lowering your weapon as you walk into the living room.

He’s seated on the couch, eyes staring straight through the window across from him.

“You left,” is all he says.

You want to scoff.

Scratch that; you want to shout. To yell and scream and beat him to a bloody pulp. You want to ask him why. Why he hurt you so badly and why he acts like he did nothing.

Instead, you walk past him and set your gun on the table.

“Why did you leave?” His voice is closer than before, his feet silent as they carry him towards you. You’re in your bedroom, raking your hands through your hair as you try to handle the situation.

“Why?” He asks again, two metal fingers just hardly brushing against your bicep. You yank yourself away from him, eyes full of rage and betrayal as you glare at him.

“Don’t you fucking dare touch me! You have no fucking right!” He takes a moment to look you over, a frown on his face as he sees how upset you are.

This isn’t how this usually goes. Usually, the two of you shout and scream at each other, then fuck all the anger out.

But not this time.

No, this time it’s different. Because there’s more than just anger on your face.

The look of pain, of absolute agony on your face, has his heart shattering in his chest.

“Doll... I’ll never be able to apologize for what I did. I just...” “You just what, Bucky?” You never call him that. Exhaustion laces your voice and your shoulders slump forward.

“You just what? You wanted to hurt me again? Well congrats, you did a great job. Now please leave. I don't want to see you. Not now and not ever fucking again.” He shakes his head as you turn away from him again.

“No, no you don’t mean that. We’re good together. We’re so fucking good together. You’re the Lois Lane to my Superman. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

His words are dripping with desperation and truth. He’s scared, terrified that this is the end. But he’s talked you back before, he can do it again.

“I’ve been hurt before, Buck. And when I saw... that... it felt like there was a knife in my fucking throat. Like someone was stabbing me in the chest and in the back all at the same time. I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t fight. And you know what? I’m done fighting. I’m done fighting you, I’m done fighting for you and, I’m so fucking done fighting for us. It’s not worth it anymore.”

He shakes his head but you continue, not giving him a moment to speak.

“We’re not good together. We’re toxic. We’re so fucking toxic but you love it. You love that I hate you because I always come crawling back. You never let me leave, you’ve never ever told me you loved me. It’s always been me. I was the only one who ever tried to salvage our relationship and I’m done doing that.”

He shakes his head, swallowing the sorrow and bile in his throat at the way your voice breaks, the way you crack and splinter and shatter right before his very own eyes.

And it’s his fault. He caused this. He's the one who hurt you.

“Doll I love you. So fucking much. I feel so fucking ashamed for everything I’ve done and the way that I’ve acted.” You scoff, shaking your head at him, “as you fucking should. I’m not going to comfort you. You see me crumbling, see me in pain, and all you've ever done is stand by and watch the show. I won’t let you. Not anymore.”

You sniffle and scrub a tear off of your cheek, your voice shaking as you start speaking again.

“I love you. So much that I can fucking hardly breathe when I’m with you. And when I fell in love with you... it hit me out of the blue. Out of fucking nowhere. I never wanted t-to hurt you or to make you upset. Now I can’t even look at you. You said you’d be my ride or die but you have never been there when I’ve needed you.”

His eyes are red-rimmed and his heart is in his stomach. This isn’t happening. It can’t be happening.

“B-But I can change. Just give me another chance, please, doll. I swear things will be different this time.”

You shake your head angrily, furious that you’re having to have this conversation with him.

“No! You don’t get it! You don’t get another chance, this isn’t a game! You lied again and now you’re going to fucking watch me walk out of your life and I’m not going to fucking look back!”

“Baby, please. Just... I just... I need you so much. I know I wasn’t there for you and I know it wasn’t you and it was me but your temper’s just as bad as mine is and we’re both stubborn as hell and so fucking crazy. Our relationship isn’t as bad as it seems and I love you too much for you to walk away. Come home, we can try again.”

You’re crying now, arms crossed tightly over your chest in a pathetic attempt at protecting yourself

“You’re a broken record, Bucky. Playing the same damn thing over and over again. You don’t mean a word you’re saying.”

He winds up and his fist slams into the wall, a large hole gaping in the drywall.

There goes your damage deposit.

Tears are streaking down his face and his chest is heaving as emotions wrack through his body, tearing him limb from limb and setting him on fire.

“You’re not even listening to me! Don't you hear the sincerity in my voice! I told you this was my fault! I know it’s all my fault! Next time-”

“Next time?!” You actually laugh, though the two of you know there’s no humour behind it. “You don’t get a ‘next time’! We’re done! We’re fucking done!”

“No! You’re not listening to me! All I want is to have you back home! I’m tired of these fucking games! Come home!”

He reaches for you, hands grasping your waist, and you shimmy out of his grip and back up in the bedroom, absolutely fuming at the audacity this man has.

“This isn’t a fucking game, James! If you ever come near me again I will tie you to that fucking bed and set this place on fire! I will show you exactly how you’ve made me felt and by the end of it you’ll be begging me to kill you!”

The two of you stand facing off with each other, tears falling and eyes narrowed, but you won’t give in.

Not this time.

After a few very long minutes his shoulders sag and his entire demeanour changes as he accepts defeat. As he realizes that you’re not giving in this time.

He lost.

He lost you.

“Alright. If that’s what you want, fine.” He turns around and walks towards the front door, each step sending a sharp fiery pain through his chest.

He hesitates when he gets to the door, eyes squeezed shut as he waits, hopes, and prays for you to stop him.

But you say nothing. You only watch him, wait for him to leave and take all his lies and deceit away.

He pulls the door open, steps through, and turns around, red eyes focused solely on you.

You muster up your courage and take calculated steps through the apartment towards the front door.

His heart jumps up into his throat, lips parting to apologize and to thank you for giving him another chance, but he doesn’t get a word out.

No, you close the door in his face and leave him standing alone on the other side, your decision having been made.

His movements are mechanical as he makes his way to his car, keys in the ignition and foot on the gas.

It can’t be real.

It can’t be.

He finds himself back in your old apartment, eyes on the absolute nothingness, a perfect representation of your relationship.

A strangled sob leaves his lips, and then another one. And another until they’re consuming him and he’s on the floor, unable to breathe or move.

No, he curls up in the fetal position, hunched in on himself, and screams your name. He curses himself, his friends, his stupidity.

He deserves this. He knows that.

He’s a lost cause.

Loving him was a mistake on your part.

But that doesn’t make the hurt go away.

Fuck, he wants the hurt to go away.

#bucky x reader #bucky x reader dark fic #bucky x reader dark au #Bucky Barnes x reader #bucky/reader #bucky/you #dark au #dark fic #bucky smut #bucky x reader smut #bucky x reader angst #Bucky Barnes angst #Steve Rogers x reader smut #Steve Rogers x reader angst #Bucky Barnes fanfiction

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tazatouille · 3 years

Text

this is how the story goes

word count: 4249

warnings: mentions of death, disassociation, alcoholism and small mention of toxic masculinity

ao3 link

summary: In which Fabian deals with the fact that he doesn't always have to be the hero.

“Let me read to you tonight, my darling.” Mama says to him, holding out her hand. Fabian, being the small boy he is, lets out a giggle and runs over to her, taking it excitedly. She smiles down at him and he sees his own dimples on her cheeks. Fabian can’t help but think that she must be the most beautiful lady to ever live, because of course that would be his Mama. Her silver hair falls like waves down her shoulders and he wonders if one day his hair will grow as long as hers.

She leads him to their library, hoisting him up briefly so he can pick out a book. He can’t quite read all the titles yet, so he picks the one he can reach, which is a small picture book. Mama brings him close to her chest, holding him with one arm. “Ah, that’s a fine choice, Fabian.”

“What’s it about, Mama?” He asks her, letting her flip the book over in his hands.

“Hmm… let’s see.” She says softly. “It looks like you’ve picked an Elven tale tonight, one about a handsome adventurer who sails the seas in search of a great sea monster.”

“That sounds like Papa!” This earns a laugh from his mother, who kisses him on the cheek.

“It does, doesn’t it?” Mama lets go of the book, letting Fabian press it to his chest. Then she carries him out of the library and towards the stairs. “It’s time to get you to bed now, Fabian.”

---

Fabian recalls that day as one of the last days that his Mama ever read to him before bed.

But that was alright, because he’s been fine with that for a while now. He knew even then when little boys grow up, their mamas don’t read them to bed anymore.

When Fabian gets up for school that morning, he sees her when he glances out his window. Cathilda is patiently watering the rose bushes as she always does in the mornings and Mama is sitting in one of her kimonos, beautiful as always, but carrying with her the heavy weight of time. Time that has caused bags to form under her eyes, her frame to grow thinner and dull her eyes each passing day. Time that has aged her, with every sip of wine she takes from the glass in her hand.

He turns away from the window.

Fabian’s morning routine is easy. It’s about a half hour of dancing, then he takes a cold shower to wake himself up. Usually, he would go straight to training afterwards, but his Mama has allowed him this single day without morning training. He takes another hour to do his hair and then his makeup. It’s nothing too fancy, just a bit of eyeliner and the tiniest amount of concealer. If it was too heavy, he would sweat it off during practice and Fabian Aramais Seacaster does not let his makeup run.

By the time Fabian heads downstairs, Cathilda is now cooking in the kitchen. She’s humming an old sea shanty, one that she’s sung for him time and time again as a child. When he walks by, he hums along with her, dancing around her to grab his green smoothie.

“Good morning, Master Fabian!” Cathilda greets him, shaking the frying pan. “Do you mind taking this plate to yer mother? She’s waitin' in the dining room.”

“Good morning, Cathilda!” Fabian says proudly, placing a kiss on her cheek. “Of course, I can.” He scoops the plate up off the counter, carrying it to the dining room. Mama sits at the head of the table, where Papa used to sit. To her right is none other than Gilear, thankfully not in his father's robes again. Fabian tries hard not to fling the dish right at his head and keeps his shoulders up.

"Oh Fabian, my baby boy, how are you this morning? Off to that little adventuring academy again are we?" Mama says, nurturing a glass in her hand.

"Morning Mama," Fabian greets, setting her plate in front of her. Mama puts down her drink to lovingly pinch his cheeks. He laughs, hoping she doesn't notice when he slides it further away. "I believe me and the boys are going to meet at Basrar's this morning before school, since we aren't training today."

"We stop training for one day and you're already eating ice cream for breakfast? Whatever will we do with you?" Mama teases with a wave of her hand. He takes the seat to her left, purposely not making eye contact with Gilear.

Here's the thing about Gilear. He may be the Chosen One, something that Fabian is willing to admit and even defend, however, Gilear is still Gilear, and Gilear is a sad, pathetic little man who did not deserve his Mama.

Fabian could admit that his Mama and Gilear did have some similarities, as they seem to be both inept at the simplest of tasks. That being said, Hallariel Seacaster was an accomplished and renowned fencer, who dashingly took his father's own eye. Gilear Faeth was an ex-diplomat who couldn't get the yogurt stains out of his shirt even with the highest levels of magic money could provide.

This isn’t how the story is supposed to go. After Fabian heroically killed his own father, his mother was supposed to find another adventurous and even in some ways, more deserving man. In the story, Mama does not end up with a man like Gilear, but with a man far better than maybe even his father ever was. Or perhaps, she remains a widow, vowing never to remarry because her love for her deceased husband is so strong.

And in the story, Fabian is supposed to feel proud for killing his father, laying the final blow that his Papa craved so adamantly. But all Fabian is left with is a vacancy, the same vacancy that still rests in his mother's heart.

At times, it almost feels hereditary.

He stares down at his smoothie and thinks he hears Gilear say something to him, but it goes unaddressed.

Fabian thought it would get easier after sophomore year. Seeing his Papa was a treat, surely. Knowing his father is having such a good time in Hell helps him sleep a little easier, but it’s not enough to snuff out the flames of guilt that still burn in his chest.

Ever since his Papa died, his mother used the sensory deprivation egg less and less. To Fabian’s surprise, it was his mother’s decision, with Cathilda helping her steadily ease out of it. Cathilda told him that if they were able to get her out of the egg, they might be able to move onto her sobriety. He still holds onto that hope, even on the harder days when his mother can only greet him after school and then retire to her room soon after.

“You know she loves you with all her heart, Master Fabian.” Cathilda said to him one night. “People are complicated, ya see… Just because she’s struggling doesn’t mean she loves you any less.”

Fabian comes back to reality when he hears his mother’s laughter. He downs the rest of his smoothie, a little too warm now, to distract himself. He pulls out his crystal to check the Boyz’ group chat. “Well Mama, I think I’ll be off!” Fabian says, getting up from his chair.

“Off already, darling?” Mama asks him, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. She’s barely touched her food. “Come here.”

He leans down and lets her place a kiss on his cheek. “You have a good day, my boy.” She tells him.

“Of course, Mama.” Fabian smiles at her, then nods his head. “Gilear.”

Gilear nods back. “I wish you a good day, Fabian.”

He walks out of the dining room, giving Cathilda a wave before heading towards the front door.

“Hangman,” Fabian thinks. “Ready for the day?”

He hears the purr of the engine start up as soon as he closes his front door. “I am ready for anything, sire. Where shall we go?”

“Head to the Ball’s apartment. I’m picking him up this morning.”

“Hangman...” Fabian warns, watching him roll out of the garage in front of him. The Hangman revs in response. “We are picking up the Ball.”

“Master, I remind you that the Ball no longer needs a ride to school.”

Fabian is sure if the Hangman could, it would sigh in disappointment. “Of course, sire.” He leans slightly to let him climb on. Then, Fabian revs the engine himself and tears down the street towards Strongtower Luxury Apartments.

---

“Fabian, for the last time.” Riz starts, walking out of the apartment building. “I’m never gonna get enough driving hours if you keep giving me rides to school.”

Riz lost his hat after sophomore year, and thank goodness because Fabian didn’t have the heart to tell him it wasn’t going to work forever. He wouldn’t admit it to Riz, but he was quite fond of the way his hair fell. It seemed impossible to Fabian that Riz didn’t style it in any way, but one day while they were hanging out, Fabian spotted a bottle of all in one shampoo and conditioner and chucked it into the garbage can.

Fabian laughs, putting a hand on his chest. “As if you would prefer to drive your mother’s car over a ride on the Hangman?” The Hangman revs underneath him for emphasis. He can see the smile creeping on Riz’s lips, so he keeps going. “Besides, everyone lies about their driving hours anyway. Who has the time to drive a whole forty hours both night and day? I certainly don’t.”

Riz looks like he’s about to protest, but instead his face spreads into a big smile. Fabian pats the Hangman’s seat victoriously. “Come on, The Ball. To Basrar’s.”

With a roll of his eyes, Riz climbs onto the Hangman, situating his briefcase against his chest. Then, his arms wrap around Fabian’s torso tightly. “You aren’t always gonna be around to give me rides, you know. I should-- uh, probably learn how to drive at some point.” He says. It’s supposed to be casual, but in reality, Riz just dropped a whale sized weight on Fabian’s chest. It threatens to leave him breathless and not in a good way.

Fabian revs the engine instead, letting the purr drown out his thoughts. “Don’t say stuff like that, Riz.” He says under his breath, before taking off down the road. He isn’t going to start thinking about this right now.

They are almost to Basrar’s when Riz shouts over the wind, “Oh hey, Fabian! Do you want to come over to the office after practice?”

Fabian smiles. “Cracking another case, The Ball?”

“You know it!” Fabian can practically hear the smile in his voice. “I always need someone to hold my string.”

Fabian feels the laughter bubble from his chest. “Yes, one of my many talents. Fabian Aramais Seacaster, holder of string!”

“It’s extremely crucial to my casework!” Riz adds. “I couldn’t solve them without it!”

Fabian feels Riz’s arms tighten around him and he lets out another laugh, pulling into Basrar’s.

---

They walk into the cool air of the shop and see Gorgug sitting at a booth in the corner. He waves to them as they approach.

“Hey guys!” Gorgug greets, giving them a toothy grin. He’s hunching over, like always, with a pink milkshake in his hand. He always ordered strawberry with extra whipped cream.

“Hey Gorgug!” Riz greets, letting Fabian take the window seat. “Dude, I gotta tell you about this show I’ve been watching. It’s awesome.”

“Oh yeah?” Gorgug says, sipping his milkshake. “Zelda’s been looking for more shows to watch, cause you know, all her parents watch is like those crazy reality TV shows.”

Fabian watches as Basrar floats over to their table. “Boys! Good to see you, and so early in the morning too. What can I get you?”

Riz orders a weird concoction of chocolate mint, coffee, and pistachio ice cream topped with gummy bears and chocolate drizzle. Fabian never understood why the gummy bears had to be added to it, something that Riz no doubt picked up from Fig. The gummy bears become hard as rocks because the ice cream makes them too cold, but he’s been friends with Riz long enough to know he would eat almost anything. And so, Fabian orders a simple banana split with caramel sauce.

By the time their ice cream gets here, Riz is already waist deep in the intricate world building of the tv show he’s been watching. The thing about Riz is that whenever he got really excited about something, he’d explain it so fast he’d have to keep back tracking and then return to his previous thought. It could get a bit confusing at times, but the Bad Kidz, at least Fabian, didn’t mind. They just made sure to ask a lot of questions.

"Here's the real catch, though. It wasn't the butler, but it was actually--" Riz gets cut off by his crystal ringtone buzz loudly on the table. He grabs it immediately and presses it to his ear. A few moments pass before he says, "Mom? What's going on?"

Fabian immediately sits up straighter before Riz holds his hand out. "I'll be right back." He mouths to them, scooting out of the booth. Fabian watches as he walks out of Basrar's.

Gorgug plays with the straw of his milkshake for a moment."So… how are you and Aelwyn doing?" He asks innocently, because Gorgug would never ask a question he didn't want the answer to. Fabian suddenly feels a little sick, putting his spoon down.

"It-- uh, well--" Fabian is tripping over himself now. He hates when he gets like this. His thoughts race through his head and try to force themselves out his mouth all at once before he can even think of what to say.

"I--I get it, if that's like--" Gorgug stumbles a bit. "Too private or something, I just, you know, was wondering."

"No, no, it's fine, Gorgug. We just… broke up a few weeks ago."

"Oh." He says simply. "Why didn't you…"

"Say anything?" Fabian finishes for him. "I guess it was somewhat embarrassing."

"Embarrassing? Did she break up with you?"

Fabian shrugs. "No, it was more mutual, if anything." He starts playing with his ice cream now, getting spoonfuls of caramel sauce and pouring it back into the bowl over and over again.

"Then why would you be embarrassed?" Gorgug presses. "I mean, my parents would say that's pretty mature."

"It just wasn't what I-- We? Expected it to be." Fabian admits. It feels weird to say it out loud after it's been rattling in his head for weeks. "I guess, maybe I expected it to be like you and Zelda. Two matches made in nerd heaven."

"You know, not every relationship is gonna be perfect, Fabian." Gorgug reminds him. "Zelda and I get along great, sure, but that doesn't mean I don't fuck up every now and then or that I never get upset with her." He shrugs. "But that's a part of like, I don't know, loving someone. You guys kinda just get to figure stuff out together."

"I guess Aelwyn and I never really tried figuring anything out together."

"Maybe you just expected too much from each other." Gorgug shrugs again. "Cause, you can't only love the best version of someone, you know?"

Fabian opens his mouth to speak, but before he can, the front door jingles and Riz makes his way back to the booth.

"Sorry about that guys." Riz says, sitting back in the booth next to Fabian. "My mom needed to know where I put the law books I borrowed from her last weekend. Where was I?"

Gorgug responds, but not before casting a reassuring glance at Fabian. "Uh… I think you were about to tell us who the killer was, right?"

Fabian can't tell if Riz notices and adds, "Oh yes, something about how it wasn't the butler?"

"Right, right!" He says excitedly. "Okay, so…"

He continues telling them about the tv show, which Fabian doesn’t mean to tune out of, but he can’t stop himself from thinking about Aelwyn.

Their breakup had been mutual. They quickly realized that they simply weren’t compatible with one another. Fabian wishes he didn’t take it hard, but Aelwyn was technically the first girlfriend he ever had, and his first kiss.

Fabian was supposed to go straight to Fallinel, take on the Elven army and break Aelwyn out of imprisonment in a feat of gorgeous heroism. Which, if you left some parts out and moved a few things around, he did, technically. But then Aelwyn was supposed to be so impressed with his prowess that they would start dating, eventually get married out on the sea and then have beautiful children, born out of both Aelwyn and his exceptional talents.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

But when they actually got together, Fabian realized that he didn’t understand Aelwyn at all, and she didn’t understand him. They had both been through copious amounts of stress during sophomore year, with Aelwyn having to adjust to a new life without her parents, and Fabian having to grapple with the events of Leviathan and his own residual fears. It was just too much for them to sort out together, too many parts of themselves that they didn’t understand, so how could they ask the other to?

“You have this version of me built in your head, Fabian.” Aelwyn said to him. “Maybe, before all of this, I could have been that person for you. But, I’m not even sure who I am right now.”

And he agreed with her, and that was that.

Their crystals all buzz on their table, and Fabian reaches over to check the message.

figgy pudding: Hey losers, where you guys at?

He types back.

fabian: Basrar’s, be there soon.

“I guess that’s our cue, huh.” Gorgug says, gathering the dishes onto the table, like he always does. “Make sure to text me the name of that show, Riz, so I won't forget.”

“Will do.” Riz replies, already sending the text to Gorgug. He gets up from the booth to let Fabian out and turns to him. “You ready to go?”

From the way Riz is looking at him, he can’t help but feel like he’s asking a different question, but he brushes past it. “Yeah, of course.”

---

"Is something wrong?" Riz asks that night, because Riz is too perceptive for his own good and Fabian acknowledges that he hasn't said a word to him in over 10 minutes. “You were kinda acting weird today.”

"Hm? Oh it's nothing, The Ball. Don't worry about it. What were you saying?" Fabian replies, sitting up a little straighter.

They are sitting in Riz's office, with it's stale mugs of coffee and scattered evidence. If this was anyone else's office, Fabian would hate being here. Sometimes, Riz is so deep in a mystery it becomes cramped with case files and boxes, but it always feels good to be in a space that is truly lived in. It’s nothing like home, and maybe that’s why Fabian likes it.

"You can talk to me, you know." Riz says, taking the red string Fabian's been playing with out of his hands. He pins a photo up on his corkboard.

Fabian doesn't respond. He knows he should, but at this moment, talking to his best friend seems like one of the hardest things he can do.

Riz notices this, and looks at him. "I know how you get. We don't have to talk about it." He runs a hand through his hair. "You, uh-- wanna watch a movie, maybe?"

Fabian blinks at him for a moment before replying, "You want to take a break?"

Riz laughs at that. "Come on, Fabian. I'm not that bad."

Fabian scoffs. "Please, you almost missed homecoming because you were here piecing together your clues." He gestures to the corkboard.

"And then I closed that case the same weekend." Riz says proudly, puffing up his chest a bit.

Fabian smiles, then makes the mistake of looking down at the floor beneath them. He runs his fingers over the scratch marks carved into the wood.

He tried to call and Riz didn’t pick up. Riz never ever misses his calls and his ringer is always on, so why wasn’t he--

Riz’s eyes go from soft to panicked almost immediately. “Hey, don’t do that.” He tells Fabian, pushing his hands away from the floor. “I, uh-- still need to get someone to fix those.”

“I could get someone to do it.” Fabian says immediately. Riz shakes his head.

“You know I wouldn’t let you.”

“But I could.”

“Fabian, it wasn’t your fault.”

And when Riz says this, Fabian lets out a breath of air.

Because he knows, deep down, the situation with Riz last year wasn’t his fault. But maybe if he had been a better friend and called more, or came around the office more, or had just been there when it happened... then Riz wouldn’t have to pay someone to replace his floorboards. Maybe, he wouldn’t have such a hard time looking at himself in the mirror.

“You aren’t the only one who fails, Fabian.” Riz continues, seemingly reading his thoughts. He sighs. “Y--You do this thing where you think you are the only person in the world who can do anything. The only person who can save the princess in the tower, the only person who can kill your father’s rival, like you are trying to hold the whole world up on your shoulders because you are Fabian Aramais Seacaster. And I get it, you know? I’ve had some pretty big shoes to fill myself.” He lets out a short laugh. “But, you don’t have to… prove yourself to me. Or to-- uh, anyone, really.”

“Riz, I--” Fabian’s words fail him, because figuring things out was always Riz’s job. He knows he will pay to get Riz’s floors done, because maybe Fabian didn’t have to prove himself to anyone, but as well as being a Seacaster, he was also Riz Gukgak’s best friend, and that he needed people to know.

“It’s okay, Fabian, really it is.” Riz says, interrupting him. “I’m not gonna lie, you haven’t always been-- uh, a perfect friend. I know I haven’t either.” He shrugs. “But you always try to be, and that means more to me than you probably know.”

Fabian reaches over and pulls Riz into the tightest hug he’s given since he got out of the Forest of the Nightmare King. He feels Riz tense up at first, but then his arms wrap around his neck.

“You are my best friend.” Fabian says into Riz’s shirt, because if he doesn’t say this now the flames that stir inside his chest will burn the words to ash before they reach his mouth. It was easier to say when Riz wasn’t staring back at him, picking him apart. A habit that Riz could never shake, but sometimes, Fabian welcomed it. He didn’t have to say much, because Riz always just seemed to understand.

Fabian has never had a best friend before. His family sailed so often when he was younger that it was hard to make friends with any of the kids. He was constantly being pulled out of school and thrown into the next. Every time he did so he would play his little charade of being Fabian Aramais Seacaster, impressing the children in his class, and then his family set sail once again.

Near the end of freshman year, Riz pulled Fabian aside to thank him for the briefcase and the business cards. Fabian had brushed it off, saying it wasn’t that big of a deal, but it took him hours to hand write all those business cards. Something that, to this day, Fabian still hasn’t told Riz.

After that, Riz never stopped calling him his best friend, and Fabian quickly realized that Riz is one of the only people who had ever really tried to be his friend. He denied it at first, but eventually he came to accept it as a fact.

And maybe it was the same for Riz too. Like Fabian, he didn’t like talking about personal issues. It wasn’t until sophomore year when Riz was finally able to talk about his dad in front of everyone. And much like Fabian and his own charade, he much preferred his role as a detective versus a teenage boy trying to figure the world out.

But that was just it, wasn’t it? Because maybe, they could be two teenage boys trying to figure out the world together.

And so, Fabian may not write his name upon the world. Every living being in Spyre may not know the name Fabian Aramais Seacaster, but he is okay with this.

Because Fabian doesn’t always need to be the hero, the knight who saves the princess, or the son who kills his father’s rival. Because even when he’s not the hero, there are people who still love him. And to be a part of a story that continues to write itself, that is bigger than his own, with Riz and the rest of the Bad Kidz?

Fabian couldn’t think of anything else he would rather do.

#fabian aramais seacaster #dimension 20 #fantasy high #riz gukgak #gorgug thistlespring #this took a lot out of me #but i hope someone enjoys it #its a fabian character study!!#my writing #d20 #d20 fic

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seanfalco · 3 years

Text

Common Stupid Thieves

Sean Falco x Reader // Platonic!Derek & Reader

Prompt: I would like to request a Sean fic where the reader is a fellow criminal who’s in on the valet scam (or another scam of your invention). I think it would be hot to drive around in fast cars doing mischief with him. Hehe 😎 💕 Please and thank you! You’re the best! Requested by: @badsext Warning(s): Language, Recreational Drug Use, Criminal activities, Infidelity Word Count: 3.5k

a/n: Aaaaaa, I was so excited when I got this prompt because I’ve been wanting to write something with a fellow criminal reader for a while now, but just didn’t know what I wanted to do, but this gave me the perfect excuse to think about it more. There will be two parts.

01. |

“Hey dog!” Derek greeted, joining Sean at the valet podium, a wide grin on his face as he sidled up next to his friend.

“Hey, man,” Sean replied, rubbing his hands together against the cold, his breath misting in the brisk night air. Autumn had already descended on Portland and the nights were swiftly growing colder as the leaves turned colour.

“What?” Sean asked, recognizing the pensive look on his friend’s face as if he had something to say and Derek held his hands up in innocence.

“Nothin’ bro,” he exclaimed, chuckling slightly, but Sean merely arched a thick brow at him until Derek finally cracked. “Okay, okay. Actually, I have somethin’ I wanted to run by you.”

“See, I knew it,” Sean laughed, his head falling back in amusement, his gaze taking in the starts overhead for a brief moment before refocusing on his friend and business partner.

“Yeah, yeah, you know me too well,” Derek muttered before jumping into his story. “Look, I got this friend, okay, and she needs a job…” he began, Sean cutting him off.

“No. No fuckin’ way.”

“What, no man, c’mon—” Derek argued.

“No, you come on!” We’d have t’start splittin’ th’tips three ways when business is already slow. Besides, what about our little side venture? How are we gunna keep that a secret?” he exclaimed, his voice dropping to a rushed whisper. “How do we know we can trust this person? I don’t like it, man,” he said, shaking his head.

“Aw no, man, she can be trusted,” Derek insisted, pulling Sean aside, away from the valet stand. “I’ve known [y/n] since we were kids. She’s good people and she ain’t no snitch. She could be a real asset, dog.”

Sean heaved a breath, deliberating. He trusted Derek, and if Derek trusted this [y/n] enough to vouch for her, then Sean would give her the benefit of the doubt. He just hoped it wouldn’t bite them in the arse later.

“...Alright,” he sighed, turning his face toward his friend.

“What, really?” Derek asked excitedly, his grin returning, brightening his face. “Oh man, you are not gunna regret this! Just think of how many more places we can hit a night with a three man crew! It’s gunna be great.”

“Yeah, so you keep tellin’ me,” Sean laughed, rolling his eyes as a car pulled up to the curb.

“Hey Sean, can you take this one? I wanna call [y/n] and tell her the good news,” Derek exclaimed, already pulling his phone from his pocket.

“Yeah, alright,” Sean called over his shoulder.

“You’re gunna love her, man!”

——

It was your first night valeting at Nino’s, Derek really having come through for you on the job thing, your last one didn’t really pan out, but at least this one seemed like it’d be easy enough, from what he’d told you.

Shoving your hands in your coat pockets against the cold, you approached the valet podium at the curb, your friend nowhere to be seen. Instead, a tall slender man with a mop of unruly dark curls stood guard out front, shifting from foot to foot as he looked down at his phone, a small smile lingering on his lips.

Sensing your presence, he gave a start, quickly pocketing his phone and flashing you a proper smile. “Hello, welcome t’Nin-ohh,” he cut off, realizing you weren’t a customer, taking in your identical white dress shirt and green jacket.

“Hey,” you greeted, offering him a sheepish grin.

“You must be [y/n],” he guessed, taking your hand to shake firmly.

“That’s me,” you replied, gripping his hand just as firmly, meeting his moss green eyes. “And you must be Sean.”

“[y/n]! Hey, you’re here!” Derek called as he approached, cutting Sean off before he could respond. “Looks like you two already got acquainted.”

“Yep, we uhm, we met,” you murmured, feeling Sean’s eyes on you as you turned to Derek.

“Awesome,” Derek exclaimed, rubbing his hands together excitedly. “This is gunna be great!”

It wasn’t long before your first customer drove up and Derek had Sean show you where the valet lot was around the block.

“See? Easy peasy,” Sean exclaimed as you parked the car.

“Easy peasy,” you agreed, wondering if you should bring up the questions you had about the other part of the job.

“The next local customer we get, we’ll go together and I’ll show you th’ropes,” he said, sensing your unvoiced questions.

“Alright,” you nodded, following suit as he got out of the car.

Walking back to the front of the restaurant, you buzzed with excitement, and instead, a different question sprung to your lips.

“So, how long have you known Derek?”

Sean’s brows furrowed in thought. “Since my family moved to th’area, about seven years ago.”

“Where were you from originally?” you asked, unable to quite keep your eyes from returning to his distractingly handsome face.

“Originally, Dublin,” he chuckled — that explained the accent — “but when my dad split, my mum and I moved to th’states. Then when she married my stepdad he decided to move us all across th’country t’start a construction company out here that went belly up in less than a year,” he scoffed, glancing over at you.

“What about you? How long have you known Derek?” he countered.

“Since middle school,” you answered, grinning as you remembered all the shenanigans the pair of you had gotten into — it seemed you were soon to continue that legacy, though this time you really didn’t wanna get caught.

“There you guys are, took you long enough!” Derek exclaimed.

“Oh ha ha,” you muttered, shoving his shoulder lightly as you joined him behind the valet stand, standing near the tall glass encased heater to banish the chill that had taken hold as you walked back from the parking lot.

“Sean has a girlfriend, by the way, so no funny business, [y/n],” he whispered, noticing the way your gaze kept seeking the handsome Irishman out.

“Yeah, so?” you snorted softly, so Sean wouldn’t overhear, only for Derek to jab you in the ribs with his elbow.

“I mean it, [y/n], don’t meddle,” he hissed, all traces of levity gone from his face.

Rolling your eyes, you huffed an indignant sigh. “Yeah, yeah. But if he makes a move on me, I don’t know if I’ll be able to resist,” you teased, only half serious. Anyone who turned that down, girlfriend or no, would be a bloody fool.

“Yeah, like that would happen,” Derek snorted and your mouth fell open.

“Gee thanks,” you scoffed indignantly, a little hurt that your friend didn’t think you had a chance.

“[y/n], don’t be like that,” he laughed, nudging you again, this time playfully. “Riley’s a good girl and Sean’s head over heels for her.”

“Good for her,” you muttered, turning away to check your phone, trying not to sound too jealous.

To pass the time between customers, you recounted stories to Sean of yours and Derek’s teenage years, Derek cutting in every now and then to correct you, or deny his involvement; joking around. Every time you managed to make Sean laugh, you counted it as a win.

Before long, a flashy SUV pulled up and Sean climbed into the driver’s seat as the couple handed him the keys before heading into the restaurant, leaving their vehicle in your capable hands.

“Looks like their place is only a couple blocks away,” Sean announced, poking through their built-in GPS and you shared a grin, quickly jumping into the passenger seat.

“We’ll be right back,” he exclaimed, winking at Derek.

“Uh huh, don’t have too much fun now,” Derek teased back, flashing a wide grin at the pair of you.

For a moment, as he accelerated, the motor revving to life, you were reminded of the scene in Ferris Bueller when the two valets flew over the hill in his friend’s dad’s car to the Star Wars theme, taking it for a little joy ride.

“Okay, so, some ground rules so we don’t get caught,” Sean began, pulling you from your thoughts and you turned to give him your full attention. “One, no stealin’ anything from the vehicles themselves, pretty self explanatory. They notice anythin’ missin’ from here, it’s the easiest thing t’tie back to us,” he explained.

“Got it. What’s two?” you asked with a nod.

“Two, we only go t’houses that are in th’neighborhood. We can’t afford a long drive if we wanna make it back before their meal’s done. Get in, get out, quickly.”

“Simple enough, you agreed.

“And three,” Sean said as he pulled into the couple’s driveway, using their garage door opener as your way in— “only take things they won’t notice, or at least not right away.”

“Okay, like jewelry, small electronics, cash… gotcha,” you murmured, unbuckling. “What if they have an alarm system?”

“Then we turn around and go back. The goal is t’not get caught. There’ll be other houses, other opportunities. Don’t get greedy.”

Nodding, you got out and tried the door to the house, finding it unlocked, though you weren’t all that surprised, most people didn’t usually lock the door inside their garage — what’s the point when your garage door’s shut tight?

“I’m in,” you announced as the door swung open, managing to pull an amused snort from your curly haired partner.

“C’mon, let’s see what goodies are waitin’ for us,” he said, bobbing his eyebrows at you before rushing up the stairs ahead of you and into the house.

“Damn, these people are loaded,” you murmured in awe, trailing behind Sean and letting your gaze travel their living room. The flat screen hanging over the mantle would’ve completely dwarfed your tiny apartment.

“Yeah, most of th’people that come t’Nino’s are,” Sean murmured, setting to work, sweeping the place for valuables.

Sneaking into their bedroom, you hit the jackpot as you threw open the door to their walk in closet. ”What d’you think?” you asked, turning to Sean as you pulled a skimpy black negligee from the rack and held it in front of your body.

For a moment Sean’s mouth worked silently, his face turning pink before your eyes and you couldn’t help the pleased grin that stole across your lips, wondering if he was imagining you in it.

“Lady’s got good taste,” he said, clearing his throat before awkwardly pointing toward the vanity. “Let’s, uh, look in there,” he suggested and you snorted, hanging the outfit back up and following him over.

“Did I fluster you?” you asked, smirking at him out of the corner of your eye as you picked through the jewelry that looked least worn.

“No,” Sean exclaimed quickly, avoiding your gaze, though it seemed like his face flushed deeper, even in the dim light. “I’m gunna go check out the bathroom,” he announced suddenly, hurrying off and you fought back a laugh, though you wished he’d flirt back a little.

Getting back to work, you snagged a pair of expensive designer shoes and a large handbag — it would fetch a pretty good price on ebay. Stuffing the heels and the necklaces into the purse, you met back up with Sean in the kitchen.

“You find anything?” you asked and Sean held up a sliver watch as well as a handful of loose change. “Pocket change?” you exclaimed, fighting back a laugh. “And here I thought you were a hardened criminal, Sean Falco.”

Sean rolled his eyes, slipping the change into his pocket. “I wouldn’t say hardened, I just wanna make things a little easier on my bank account. Bein’ a starvin’ artist ain’t as glamorous as it seems,” he snorted sarcastically, heading back toward the garage as he checked his phone, Derek texting to let you know you were in the clear yet.

“You’re an artist?” you asked curiously, climbing back into the borrowed SUV and Sean opened the garage door, backing out into the street.

“Photographer,” he clarified, his eyes flicking over to you.

“Really? What do you take pictures of?”

“Oh, a little bit of everything,” he replied, smiling to himself. “People, places, anything that catches my eye. I like things with personality,” he explained.

“I’d love to see your work sometime,” you mused.

“Yeah, course,” Sean exclaimed, clearing his throat quickly and returning his eyes to the road, though you could have sworn a dusting of pink had returned to his cheeks as the light from a streetlamp lit up his face.

“Bet your girlfriend likes being your model,” you ventured quietly after a long moment, wanting to see how he reacted.

“No, actually—” Sean began before frowning. “How did you know I have a girlfriend?”

“Derek told me.”

“Oh, right,” he said, shaking his head slightly, his lips twitching downward.

“What does she do?” you asked, unable to curb your curiosity.

“She’s a business major.”

“Ah,” you replied shortly and Sean glanced at you curiously.

“What’s that s’posed t’mean?” he asked, amusement tinging his voice.

“Nothin’,” you teased, grinning over at him. “Just sounds boring to me,” you answered honestly. How much do you even have in common? you wondered, not voicing that query.

“Honestly… kinda,” Sean chuckled, rolling his shoulders.

“Doesn’t she know about… this?” you asked hesitantly, gesturing to the stolen items at your feet.

“This?” Sean yelped incredulously, turning back into the valet lot. “No, she doesn’t know about this,” he answered tensely.

“So… what now?” you asked, sensing Sean’s discomfort at your question and quickly changing the subject.

“Now… now we stow the stuff in our cars and go meet back up with Derek.”

“So, how did baby’s first run go?” your friend asked cheekily when you returned, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet in his excitement, wearing a shit eating grin as he dodged your punch aimed at his bicep.

“She did good,” Sean answered before you could, and the compliment took you by surprise, filling your face with warmth.

“See, what I tell you?” Derek exclaimed.

——

Before you knew it a couple months had flown by and you were making runs by yourself now; you, Sean, and Derek doing fairly well for yourselves with your little side business. Sure, there were nights when you came back nearly empty handed, but it beat not working at all, and the money from the valet stand was enough to get by on. Besides, the best part was getting to hang out with your friends every night. During that time, you’d grown rather close to Sean, the two of you beginning to spend more time together outside of work.

“You really need to find a new place,” you laughed as you plopped down at one of the plastic chairs flanking Sean’s tiny table.

“Wha—? What’s wrong with it?” Sean exclaimed, feigning offense as he took the chair across from you and passing you the lit joint between his fingers, his lips twitching into a bemused grin as he watched you.

“What’s wrong with it?” you cried, teasingly, gesturing with your arm toward the wall nearest you. “There’s fuckin’ holes in your walls!”

“Hey, I patched… most of ‘em!” he countered. “You’ve gotta admit, it’s got character!”

“Is that what you call it?” you cackled, breaking into laughter as you waved the smoke from your face. “I suppose it does suit your starving artist aesthetic,” you teased, glancing at him coyly, feeling your cheeks warm as he shared your grin, his long fingers brushing yours as he stole the joint back.

Unable to look away as he brought the joint to his lips and inhaled deeply, your thoughts spiraled, wondering what it would feel like to kiss him as silence fell over the cramped flat.

“So… I have somethin’ I need to confess,” Sean spoke up, jolting you from your thoughts and you quickly tore your eyes from his mouth. “I was a little worried when Derek suggested bringin’ you onto th’team,” he admitted, not quite meeting your eyes. “But honestly, it’s been one of th’best things we’ve done,” he said, flicking the line of ash from the end of the dwindling joint.

“Oh yeah?” you asked, arching a curious brow at him. “Why were you worried? Thought I’d be a liability?” you half teased.

“Yeah, kinda,” Sean answered sheepishly, causing you to snort, laughter bubbling from your lips to lighten the room.

“Can’t say I blame you,” you admitted, taking another hit as he offered it to you. “Did Derek ever tell you why he trusts me so much?” you asked, glancing over to catch Sean’s eye.

“He didn’t, but I figured there had t’be a reason for his unwavering confidence though,” he said, his words making you smile.

“When we were in middle school,” you begin, settling in to recount your story, leaning back against the wall behind you. “Derek and I weren’t bad kids, per se, I mean, not like his brothers, but we did get into trouble from time to time. There was one day, we were graffiting the side of a rail car down by the tracks, y’know, just a little harmless vandalism,” you said, your lips curling wryly.

“Well, apparently there was a cop nearby and he caught sight of us. So we threw our spray cans down and made a break for it. We probably would’ve gotten away but I tripped over one of the tracks, and busted my knee open,” you explained, shaking your head. “I told Derek to go on without me cause we had some stolen shit in our pockets from earlier and I didn’t want him t’get in trouble for it too.”

“What happened?” Sean asked.

“He didn’t like it, but Derek took off like I told him to and I let the cop catch up to me so he’d have a chance to get away.”

“But he’d seen Derek?”

“Yeah, from a distance, but I just kept denying there was anyone else with me, so there wasn’t really anything they could do about it,” you shrugged.

“You took th’fall and kept him outta juvie?”

“Mhmm.”

“No wonder Derek trusts you,” he murmured, awe in his voice.

“I don’t rat on my friends,” you said simply, crushing the rest of the blunt out in the ashtray between you.

Sean nodded before you heard his stomach growl loudly. “Oh shit, I’m starvin’,” he groaned, holding his belly as you descended into laughter, holding your own gut. “You want somethin’? I think I have some frozen chicken strips or somethin’ in here,” he mused, getting up to check the icebox.

Following him over to the tiny kitchen, you peered in the freezer with him. “Chicken strips sound bomb.”

“Grand,” Sean chuckled, pulling the bag out and dumping the contents onto an oven sheet while you turned on the oven and leaned against the counter next to him.

“So… where’s Riley?” you asked, reluctant to bring her up, but it hadn’t escaped your attention that she hadn’t been around much lately.

“Oh, she’s busy with classwork,” he replied, turning to lean against the counter next to you. “I think she has some big midterm project she’s workin’ on. Why?”

“I just thought it was weird you hadn’t been hanging out much,” you explained, carefully, realizing how close you were. “But I’m not complainin’,” you murmured, your hand inching closer to touch his. “I like spending time with you…”

“I like spendin’ time with you too, [y/n],” Sean mused, slowly leaning closer, as if a spell had fallen over the pair of you, til his breath fanned across your lips moments before they pressed chastely to yours.

Not fighting it, you tangled your fingers in his jumper, pulling him closer as you kissed him back and to your delight his lips moved against yours with a soft moan and you felt the edge of the counter bite into your back. It was as if all the tension between you had finally come to a head—every coy little glance and furtive touch, all the inside jokes and nights spent texting late into the morning hours were finally leading where you’d hoped.

Moaning in turn as your tongue sought his, Sean suddenly tensed, the bubble bursting as he pulled away. “What are we doin’?” he exclaimed breathlessly, running his hands through his hair. “I can’t do this—“

“Why not?” you asked desperately, though you already knew the answer. “Sean, I-I really like you, and I think you feel the same way, that kiss obviously proved that—“

“I—” Sean hesitated, his face clearly conflicted. “—but Riley,” he exclaimed, shaking his head, his curls shivering. “I love her, I can’t do this t’her.”

“You can’t even be honest with her!” you cried, the words bursting from you, unable to hold them back any longer. “You’re afraid to tell her about what you do because you know she’d judge you for it!”

For a moment Sean blinked at you, his mouth hanging open as if unable to come up with an argument. “You… you don’t know anything about it,” he snapped finally, setting his face. “I think you should probably leave, [y/n].”

His words felt like a slap to the face and you staggered backward. “Y-yeah… I’ll—” The hushed words died on your tongue and you stumbled toward the door, looking back at him as you stepped out into the blinding daylight outside. Sean wouldn’t even look at you.

Had you just fucked up beyond repair?

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

Tag List: @magic-multicolored-miracle @santacarlahorrorshow @messengeronthemoon @the-freckled-luba @firstpersonnarrator @phoenixhits @super-unpredictable98 @spanishmossmagnolia @salvador-daley @forenschik @a-ghoulish-tale @love-is-dirty-baby @vonkimmeren @darkheartbrightsmile @violetrainbow412-blog @bellelittleoff @simsiddy @duck-noises

#sean falco #sean falco x reader #bad samaritan #bad samaritan fic #derek sandoval #robert sheehan character fic #robert sheehan #my writing #prompt request #badsext

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robots-and-writing · 3 years

Text

A Cold Night In With The DJD

(TW: Cards Against Humanity, general dirty talking)

Tarn shivered in his office, a fuzzy blanket draped over his shoulders. It didn't do much, with the heating on the Messatine out for the day until repairs could be done. For now he would focus on paperwork to take his mind off the cold. He had personal reviews to read, repair papers to sign, the work had started piling up on his desk.

"Tarn?" Helex ducked into the office, the heat from his smelter warming up the room.

"What can I do for you, Helex?" Tarn let the blanket fall to the floor. Helex's warmth was enough to keep him comfortable.

"The others are in the rec room trying to stay warm, do you want to join us?" Tarn had been previously invited to join his team to stay warm and play a few card games. "I know it's not your favourite game, but we're about to start a round of Cards Against Cybertron." Hm. Helex was right. Tarn didn't like that game. But, he mused to himself, it will be valuable team building experience.

"I'll go." Helex's face showed a brief flash of surprise before he spoke.

"Sweet! I'll head back to the rec room, the others are waitin' for me." He gave a wave with one small hand and left. Tarn grabbed his data pad and soon followed suit. It wasn't too long before they had arrived at the rec room door, the lively conversation taking place inside audible through the door. The door opened to sighs of relief as the warmth of Helex's smelter returned, and the room started heating back up again. The other DJD members seemed surprised that Tarn even bothered to come, and even more surprised that he would participate in the game.

Kaon dealt out ten white cards for every player and put the black cards in the centre of the circle. "I'll be the first card czar." Drawing a card from the pile, he read out the prompt.

"I'm no doctor, but I'm pretty sure what you're suffering from is called… blank."

Tarn looked at the cards he had in his hand. They were:

Unfathomable stupidity.

Having sex for the first time.

An older bot who knows their way around a spike.

The blood of primus.

Shaking a sparkling until it stops crying.

Poor life choices.

Licking things to claim them as your own.

Fellowship in primus.

Soundwave talking dirty.

A live studio audience.

Hmm.Tarn decided to play it safe, and tossed Poor life choices into the pile of white cards. He was still deciding if he was going to seriously play the game. Tarn could go with the typical responses. That meant likely not winning a single card. Or he could relax. Go with what he wanted to do. It is a team bonding exercise after all, it only makes sense to participate fully.

Soon, everyone but Kaon had tossed a card in the pile. Kaon cleared his throat and read the card.

"I'm no doctor, but I'm pretty sure what you're suffering from is called…

Land mines. Yikes." Tesarus stifled a giggle.

"A microspike." Helex, Nickel and Tesarus laughed. Kaon only sighed in feigned exasperation, hiding a smile.

"Poor life choices."

"Ghosts"

"Being rich." Kaon took a second to think over his choices.

"Come on!" Tesarus chimed in. "The microspike has got to win." Helex was full on laughing at this point, Nickel was smirking next to him. Kaon glared as best as he could at Tess before declaring his verdict.

"Who played the Microspike?" Nickel raised her hand to nobody's surprise.

*********

"Do not go here! I found blank in my energon!" Helex read out. Tarn considered his options and decided to put The blood of Primus in the pile. Once again, it was time to read the cards.

"Do not go here!" Helex read out " I found…

"Some goddamn peace and quiet"

"Prisoners of war?" Kaon chuckled at that card.

"The blood of primus." Helex saw the next one and hit his fist on the table and laughed. The suspense of not knowing what was on the card was tense. Vos chattered on in Primal Vernacular with an impish look to his eyes.

"My- my neck, my back, my valve and my aft." Everyone but Tarn laughed, though he did smile ever-so-slightly behind his mask. He stopped when he realized it though, he didn't want to give off the impression that he was that… uncouth.

"I think it's obvious who won this round." Nickel said. "Who played that last one?" Vos reached for the black card, triumphantly hissing as he took it in his hand.

*********

It was Nickel's turn next. Helex passed her a black card, which she read with a humorous smile.

"As the carrier of five rambunctious sparklings, I'm no stranger to… blank." Tarn had the perfect card for this one. He had picked up a two new cards since the beginning:

Insatiable bloodlust

Sucking spike in a back alley

He didn't want to piss off Nickel, he knew he would pay for it later. So Tarn put in insatiable bloodlust. It's not that he was afraid of her. No way. He just had a healthy respect for her capabilities, that's all. Definitely. She took the cards and shuffled them, then picked the top one up to read it.

"As the carrier of five rambunctious sparklings, I'm no stranger to…

"Sunshine and rainbows." Nickel chuckled. "Hah! As if."

"Letting everymech down."

"Insatiable bloodlust. Seems more likely, I already have to deal with five full-grown mechs, I definitely couldn't handle that many sparklings without at least a little murder!" The others chuckled a little before she continued.

"Judging everyone." Nickel grimaced at the next card and sighed.

"Maximal insertion?" Everyone but Nickel laughed a little, even Tarn. Helex and Vos on the other hand, were laughing the loudest at the card."Whoever played that card can go frag themselves to the pits. Frag this, Insatiable bloodlust wins. You all suck." Tarn smugly took the point, knowing he hadn't angered the tiny medic. She was currently glaring daggers at the others. Perhaps, he thought to himself, this isn't all that bad. He was quite enjoying himself after all. And it was his turn to judge now. He picked a random black card from the stack and read it.

*********

"The DJD now tortures traitors by subjecting them to… blank." I wonder what the odds are that of all people, I would be the one to draw this card? The others certainly seemed to find it funny, chuckling quietly to themselves as they searched their hands for the perfect card. Now that Tarn wasn't looking for a match as well, he could truly pay attention to the other DJD members and how they acted.

Nickel had a sharp gaze like a bird of prey, carefully judging each white card for the right play. Kaon however didn't seem to even be reading them, leaving it up to chance. He was the first to put down his card. Helex and Tesarus were smirking to themselves as they searched their hands for a good play. And Vos, well he was constantly talking to himself. Tarn could it pick out a few words, but not many. Soon they had all put their cards in a messy pile in front of him and left him to start reading.

"The DJD now tortures traitors by subjecting them to…"

"Semi-automatic weaponry." Makes sense, though maybe a little too much sense to be funny.

"Glitter."

"Cuddling." While he did find the idea of going gentle on a traitor despicable, Tarn smiled at the thought of it. But the next card soured that rare smile.

"Two mechs one cube." Everyone else found it hilarious. Even Kaon was laughing, small sparks coming off his Tesla Coils. They were all a little tipsy at this point, even Tarn was feeling the effects of the alcohol, but he still cursed under his breath at the fact that he had to read that sentence out loud.

"Mutually assured destruction." Tarn recovered quickly from the last prompt and pondered his choice.

"Well at least we know there's no way I'll win!" Helex chided in loudly. He always got drunker than the others on game night, surprisingly being a lightweight.

"I'm guessing the weaponry one" Tesarus was also quite tipsy having finished a few shots of strong engex. "It's Tarn we're talkin' about!" Kaon agreed, and Vos nodded along too.

"Helex?" The table was silent as everyone looked at the four-armed mech then back at Tarn.

"Yes sir?"

"Point well won." The table erupted into laughter and cheers. And this time, Tarn joined in.

#decepticon justice division #djd #mtmte #maccadam #idw #kaon #tarn #vos #helex #tesarus #lost light #cards against humanity #tarn is a big dumb idiot who loves his team #himbo tarn #Nickel

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the-gay-trashmouth · 3 years

Text

So I’m the worst. As soon as I started the Newsies Gift Exchange my mental health took a nose dive and my school decided to ramp up the assignments to 100. I never forgot and I have been working on it when I had the time so here it is! I'm so sorry I'm late @annihilatedthenightstalker . I hope you enjoy my very very late gift. I am so sorry.

Prompt- Jack's really scared for some reason and David sees him cry for the first time, its then he finds out just how touch-starved Jack is.

If there was one thing David knew, it was that Jack Kelly would be the death of him. He wasn’t even mad about it, it was just a simple fact of life that he had come to accept.

That's what he thought as Sarah shoved him awake, telling him in no kind words that his Cowboy was at the window and he needed to go take care of it. He yawned before pushing off the bed and making his way to the open window where Jack did, in fact, sit waiting for him.

He leaned out the window, fixing him with an unimpressed look. “What are you doin’ here so late? Don’t ya have a bed waitin’ at the lodge?”

Jack shrugged, but he was shaking like he’d seen a ghost. David’s expression went from annoyed to concerned as Jack spoke.

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t sleep none and I thought- well you like all that star stuff and the skies real clear so-” he gestured shakily, “I thought we could go watch some, may-maybe you could tell me all that stuff you learned about the patterns and stuff.”

David watched him carefully, watched the way he couldn’t sit still, the way he was glancing around like something would pop out to get him any second now. After a moment he sighed, “yeah… yeah okay Jackie. Lemme get dressed and I’ll meet ya on the roof, a’ight?”

Jack nodded quickly, already climbing the ladder. David watched him for a moment, concern twisting in his chest. He turned back to see Sarah watching him with tired eyes.

“That’s not what I meant when I said make him go away,” she said flatly.

David shrugged, “he doesn't look too good, Saz. I can’t just let him go wander the streets like this,” he argued, though Sarah didn’t look convinced. Thankfully, she didn’t push it, just rolled her eyes and laid back down.

“Whatever, don’t complain to me when you're exhausted tomorrow.”

He sighed, tugging a patched sweater over his undershirt and fastening his suspenders to his pants. She had a point, but he wasn’t about to admit it. Besides, he couldn’t just leave Jack to his own devices, not when he’s like this.

When he pulled himself up to the roof, the first thing he saw was Jack, still pacing with his hands still shaking. David tried to shake off his anxiety as he pushed himself to a stand, but the lingering clench of concern twisted around his heart. He didn’t like seeing Jack like this, it hurt too much.

“You’re gonna walk a hole in your shoes if you keep that up,” Jack jumped at his voice, but a shaky grin still found its way onto his face.

“Oh well, you could patch ‘em up for me, couldn’t ya Dave?”

David rolled his eyes, nudging Jack’s shoulder as he passed, “might could, question is would I?” he pulled one of his sheets down from the line before sitting down.

Jack just grinned, taking his place beside him, “‘course ya’ would, what kind a partner wouldn’t?”

He snorted, nudging Jack’s shoulder with his own. He was right, of course, Dave would do anything he could for him- Jack knew damn well he would too. Everyone did.

“Keep tellin’ yourself that, Kelly.”

Jack grinned, nudging him back before leaning on his hands to look at the sky. David followed suit- Jack was right. It was an incredibly clear night. He could see so many stars, he could even make out a few major constellations.

After a moment of silence Jack elbowed him in the ribs, pointing up to the stars, “That one there’s the big dipper, ain’t it?”

David followed his finger, trying to connect the pattern he was seeing. It was a bit difficult because his hands were still shaking. “Yeah, I think so- ya know the big dipper’s just a part of a bigger constellation, Ursa Major. A bear.”

Jack tilted his head, dropping his arm to his side and squinting at the sky, “don’t look like no bear to me.”

The other boy snorted, using his own hand to point out the rest of the pattern, “yeah see- there's the head and the big body, and those little stars make the legs- see? Bear.” Jack just tilted his head farther, blonde hair falling into his face.

“I don’t- hang on, yeah. Yeah I see what you mean, ‘s like one of them stick figures, right?”

“Yeah, basically, I mean it’s really abstract. See, right near it is Leo, it’s supposed to be a lion.”

Jack followed his finger again, watching as he pointed out the stars and traced the lines. Jack squinted at it, “yeah- it just looks like a bunch a dots to me”

David snorted, looking over to see Jack watching him with a soft smile. He tilted his head, nudging Jack’s shoulder again. As much as he would love to go on and on about the stars and the stories behind him, he had to find out what was wrong.

“So, I know ya didn’t come here lookin for a lesson on astronomy. What’s wrong with ya? Somethin’ happen with the boys?”

Jack froze, still staring at the sky. David could see him trying to keep his easy grin but it was forced. Somehow that hurt worse than a frown.

“Nah Dave, nothin’ happened with them…” he trailed off, picking at the concrete beneath him.

“Well what’s wrong? And don’t say nothin- I know when you’re lyin.”

“Aw c’mon, you wound me! I don’t lie-”

David cut him off, rolling his eyes, “fine. ‘Improvin’ the truth’ or whatever- not much of a difference.”

Jack chuckles, leaning forward to rest his chin on his knees. “Yeah, you’se too observant for ya’ own good sometimes.”

“And you’re too stubborn for yours,” he shot back, taking a breath before continuing to speak, voice much softer this time, “what’s eatin’ at ya, Jackie?”

Jack shuddered, face hidden behind his messy bangs. He was quiet for a moment before he muttered something just under his breath.

“I can’t hear ya, Jack,” he said plainly, leaning forward to try and catch his eyes. Jack just looked away,

“My Pa…. he’s… Spots just got news that he got out a’ the pen,” David’s breath caught in his throat as Jack spoke, his words shaking.

“Oh shit,” he breathed. For once, The Walking Mouth had been rendered speechless. Jack laughed, rough and strained.

“Yeah.. oh shit..” he pulled his legs up to his chest and rested his chin on his knees. David set a hand on his shoulder, mind too frantic to linger on the way Jack tensed under his touch.

“Are you okay? He- he don’t know where you’se stayin’ does he? Shit- he can’t- Jackie..” now it was David’s turn to shake, the hand not gripping Jack’s shoulder running through his curly bed head. Jack shrugged, adamantly refusing to look at him. David cut himself off, words dying in his throat.

“Jackie…” he dropped the hand from his hair to his lap, “what are you gonna do?”

Jack shrugged again, but David could feel his shoulders begin to shake. David waited for a moment as Jack sucked in a shaky breath. “I don’t know Dave… I mean I don’t- I don’t think he knows where I’se stayin’ but what if he does?”

David let the hand on his shoulder drop to his back, rubbing small circles into the thin fabric of his shirt like his mama would do when he was in a state. He didn’t know what to say and his mind was racing to come up with something. Something to fix it, something to make it all better.

Nothing came to mind.

Jack was still shaking but he leaned into Davey’s touch, taking in shuddering breaths as he hid his face in his knees. “Dave I- I don’t know what I’m gonna do…”

When he finally looked up, there were tears in his eyes. Davey’s heart clenched as he sucked in a harsh breath. Jack never cried- sure he got upset, angry enough to punch a hole through a wall or anxious to where he couldn’t breathe, but he never cried.

Davey didn’t know what to do with that.

“I’m scared, Dave…”

That was the final straw. David gripped Jack’s shirt with shaking hands and jerked him into his long arms. He wrapped around him, using his height to his advantage as he enveloped Jack in a shaking embrace.

“Oh Jackie…” he buried his nose in his hair, pushing back his own tears.

Jack froze for a moment, just long enough for David to worry he’d gone too far before there were fingers digging into his back and Jack “Cowboy” Kelly was sobbing into his shoulder.

“I- fuck Dave-” David shushed him as he cried, arms tightening around him as the older boy cried his eyes out into his shoulder. He could feel his sleeves soaking through but that was the least of his worries right now. He was too busy trying to comfort the shaking mass of boy in his arms to give a dmn about his stupid shirt.

“It’s okay Jackie- let it all out. It’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out. You can stay with us or- or hell I'm sure Spotty would let ya crash at the Brooklyn Lodge if he shows up in ‘Hattan,” he spoke frantically into Jack’s hair, trying everything to reassure him that there was no way his father would get anywhere near him. Jack just shudder out something between a laugh and a sob.

“Spotty don’t let no one but Racer stay at the lodge,”

“Spotty ain’t gonna leave you on the streets Jackie,” David pulled back just a bit, ignoring the soft whine that came from Jack, “none of us will, for that matter. You’se family, Jackie, an’ family don’t let family suffer.”

Jack blinked at him, tears still flowing from his eyes. When he spoke it was broken and strained, “you’re too good to me, Dave-”

David cut him off, thumbing away his tears, “no- people just ain’t been good enough.”

Jack sniffled, leaning into his palm. “Can I…. shit, can I stay here? Just for tonight. I don’t.. I don’t wanna walk back alone…”

Davey managed a smile, hand still cupping his cheek, “Jackie, you can stay as long as you want.”

#Stari writes #Newsies #javid #canon era #newsies fic #gift exchange #i am so sorry i am so late

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

93. I hire your matchmaking services but all the people you set me up with are horrible and I’m demanding a refund and you’re asking me for one more chance??? what are you going to do? be my date?

Indruck, nsfw, please!

Here you go! I was inspired by @kriskukko's incredible art for the orc designs in this, and I highly recommend checking them out!

“Indrid? Some from Kepler House is here to speak with you.” Ned pokes his head into Indrid’s rooms.

“Drat” Indrid hisses, dressing gown whipping about him as he scrambles to put the apartment in order while also dragging his notes on the man in question to the forefront, “I didn’t forsee anyone coming by today, goodness, he had his first engagement with Lady Austens daughter last night, what on earth could they need to see me for?” He tosses his spare pens aside, landing them in his second set of house slippers.

“Well, dear boy, given the luck you’ve had with them lately-”

“It’s not luck, it’s simply very unlikely futures. Please just, just stall whoever it is a moment, Leo is usually patient and-”

“I’m afraid I cannot do that my friend.”

“Why not? I watched you once talk an entire flock of constables away from your door. Praytell, why can Ned “Silver Tongue” Chicane not get rid of a single attendant?”

“Because the attendant ain’t here this time.”

Indrid slams the drawer of his desk, looking up as an orc in a deep brown suit steps into the room, tossing his hat onto the table. He’s shorter than Indrid and Ned (stout and strong, according to the notes Indrid received), wavy black hair streaked with grey at the front. One eye is blue, the other brown, and both regard the harried matchmaker with casual annoyance.

“Mr. Newton, I, ah, I was not expecting you to visit me.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t expect to be on a date where she found me so damn dull she hailed a cab as soon as dinner was done. I was already in town on some business for Minerva, so I decided to come tell you I ain’t in need of your services anymore.”

“I beg your pardon? Your benefactor employed me to find you a suitable match and I intend to do just that. I know there have been missteps, but such things are to be expected when searching for one’s lifelong partner.”

“Uh huh. And the fact I’m Lady Minerva’s chosen heir, which means there are a bunch of folks waitin to mimic my style and choices, has got nothin to do with it.”

“I, ah, I can’t say that I’m ignorant of the potential repercussions of being the one assigned to locate a spouse for you.”

“Which is the long way of sayin you know damn well that if I decide to stop askin you for help, no one with money is ever gonna come to you again.”

There’s a determined set to his rounded jaw, and a glimpse at the future suggests Indrid will have better luck with a different tactic

“....were they really so awful?”

“Yes. They were rude, or thought I was rude, or thought I was dull, or we just had fuck-all in common.”

“Have you considered you might just be a tad more demanding than average?”

“It ain’t demandin to want the person I spend the rest of my life with to actually like me.” He sighs, “I’m sorry, Mr. Cold, but unless you got a real winner up your sleeve, I’m done.”

All responses, all timelines show Duck ending his time as Indrid’s client and walking out the door.

“You could try me!”

“Really?” Duck looks deeply unconvinced.

“I will admit it’s unorthodox, but I, I foresee us having a perfectly nice time together. It will let me prove that I am capable of choosing companions for you.”

The shorter orc looks him up and down more deliberately and Indrid fights not to draw his dressing gown tighter. He will not be intimidated by some newcomer from across the sea.

“Okay, I’ll make you a deal. I got to go to this concert tomorrow; someone from Kepler house is expected to show and Minerva is busy. You’re comin with me.” He holds Indrid’s gaze, daring him to renege on his offer.

Indrid summons his best, professional grin, “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

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

Indrid smooths his waistcoat and jacket as he steps from the cab, tucks a strand of his silver hair behind his ear. It’s his only concession to the nerves skittering up and down his spine.

Gatherings such as these are nothing new to him; he goes to them to gather new information and new clients, to remind the well-to-do families of London and beyond that he is the matchmaker extraordinaire. But there is always the moment between when they see him and when they recognize him, when every face in the room wonders why someone like him dares to enter their space.

Somewhere in Indrid’s ancestry is a love story between an orc and a goblin. His silver hair, very angular features, and complete lack of tusks or fangs is the proof. The red eyes don’t help--they unsettle everyone who sees them--but his mother insists they’re evidence of other orcs gifted with rare magic on her side of the family. He wears red spectacles over them just to be safe; he rather likes how the color stands out against his skin, and his glasses let him avoid prying questions.

Duck is waiting for him under the awning outside the music hall; he’s in a grey day suit this time, looking just as understatedly handsome as he did yesterday morning. Indrid must admit his desire to save his reputation is not the only reason he agreed to this; he cannot understand why Duck is having such trouble meeting his match. He’s good looking, moneyed, American--an exotic background in the eyes of the average, sheltered upper-class orc--but still has family history here in England. All Indrid’s matches showed a high probability of success. The point of failure must lie with the orc himself.

“Afternoon, Mr. Cold.” Duck smiles with everything but his eyes.

“Indrid is fine, given the reason for our meeting.”

Duck nods. Indrid wishes the ground would swallow one of them up. When the pavement fails to oblige, he offers his arm. The shorter orc takes it, both of them doffing their hats as they step inside.

“I, uh, like the earring.” Duck indicates the moth cuff on Indrid’s left ear, a stark contrast to the single gold hoop in his own.

“Thank you. A friend gave it to me. I, ah, I rather enjoy working moths into my wardrobe; I find them fascinating.”

“Y’know, back home we got moths that look like hummingbirds.”

“Really?” Indrid’s ear twitches, “how big?”

Duck holds up his hands to indicate the size. Indrid is about to demand details when they’re waylaid by their hostess and pulled into a cluster of families. Indrid breathes deep, feeling crowded in, and notices Duck routinely being cut off in conversation or given disapproving looks behind his back. Yes, Indrid supposes his manners are a bit rough, but there’s no harm in that. Too, everyone seems far more interested in the goings on at Kepler House and with Lady Minerva than with Duck himself. By the time they’re seated, their arms feel locked together from shared tension.

The violinists are quite good; Indrid enjoys strings, his recordings of them being his favorite music to listen to while drawing. But his mind is so consumed by futures and by thoughts about the orc beside him that he struggles to focus on the music. Duck is having a similar issue, though he hides it well; were they not side by side, Indrid would miss the way he fidgets with the knee of his trousers.

“Are you alright?” He whispers under the applause.

“N-ye-uh. Fuck. I, the musics real nice but I gotta say I’m gettin kinda bored. But I got no fuckin clue if leavin will piss everyone here off.”

“Intermission is soon. When it comes, keep quiet and follow my lead.”

When the guests rise to stretch their legs and fetch refreshments, Indrid guides Duck to their hostess.

“I’m so very sorry, but I’m afraid my stomach is rather angry with me and it’s best if I go home. Duck has agreed to accompany me so I do not pass out in the street. I’m sure you understand.”

She nods, and in a matter of moments they’re out on the street, each breathing deeply.

“Thanks for that.”

“My pleasure.”

“Guess I oughta just head back to the hotel.” Duck sighs.

“You could. But, ah, we’re not far from Kew Gardens and the weather isn’t miserably cold for once. If you’d like-”

“Hell yeah. Wait, fuck, sorry, tryin to swear less in public.”

“I don’t really mind.” Indrid starts them down the street.

“Lots of them do” Duck tips his head back towards the concert hall, “I mean, at least that rule is easier to figure out. It’s not that there aren’t weird rules and class stuff back home, but I grew up learnin them. Here I always feel like I’m one move away from makin an ass of myself. No one’ll say anything because of Minerva, but I know if it weren’t for her, none of ‘em would give me the time of day. It makes every interaction so goddamn stressful.”

Indrid twinges with sympathy, “When I first started in these circles, I wrote myself notecards and had Ned test me on them.”

Duck giggles, so absurd and loud it draws stares from passersby, “why? You seem to know your stuff.”

“I didn’t come from money, and I don’t always read social situations the way others expect. It was learn or live as a penniless artist for all my days.” As the gardens come into view he adds, “I know the basics of your life in America but if you weren’t here, what would you be doing there?”

“Workin in the Yosemite valley. I was a ranger there for a few years before Minerva called me here.”

“What was that like?”

Duck tells him as they wander the first stretches of the gardens. He’s midway through a tangent about bears when he stops.

“Holy fuck, you’re really still listenin.”

“Of course I am, this is fascinating.”

His companion smiles, “Glad you think so. But it ain’t polite for me to dominate the conversation like this. Now you gotta tell me what you do when you’re not gettin fancy folks together.”

“...You promise you will finish the story about the bear and the tent later.”

“You know it.”

Indrid knows that time passes more quickly with good company, but he’s still startled when the sun sets. The Savoy, where Duck is staying, is closer than his home, so their cab stops there first.

Duck pauses halfway out the door, “Meet me here for dinner tomorrow?”

Indrid grins, “I’d like nothing more.”

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

“I didn’t know the line even went this far.” Indrid watches the moors race by them out the window of the train.

“You and me both.” Duck rotates his map, glances at the letter he received a week ago, “okay, once we get off at Amnesty, we need someone to take us down Greenbank road. The house is at the end of it, somewhere around here.” He taps a patch of moor miles from anything else. Indrid studies his fingers and is glad that, of his more rugged habits, one he elected to keep was letting his nails stay claws rather than filing them down.

“My visions suggest that as long as we don’t ask anyone to drive us out after dark, we should have no trouble reaching it.”

Indrid tries not to be too giddy at the prospect of spending weeks and weeks more or less alone in the countryside with Duck. They’re going because an anonymous note informed him that he did indeed have a family estate and--once they determined that the house near Dartmoor did indeed legally belong to him--it was decided he would go to see how the old place was doing and perhaps take up residence.

He asked Indrid to come without even glancing up from the telegram from the solicitor. Indrid agreed without looking away from his drawing. If two months of semi-courtship in a crowded city got them close enough for that, Indrid dares to hope that being out here together will bring them closer still.

Amnesty is small, as they both expected, the air chilly and fog threatening to swallow whole buildings as they make their way to the Lodge where they’ve been told they can find a driver. When Duck asks the young woman working the counter for help getting to Greenbank Hall, she quirks her lips in a frown.

“I’m not sure there’s even a place called that around here….OH! Do you mean Beacon House?”

“Maybe?” Duck looks at Indrid, who quickly looks at the futures.

“Yes, it seems we do.”

“Okay. Since it's still light, I should be able to find someone to get you out there. If it comes down to it, I can, like, drive you out myself.”

They end up being driven by a friendly young man named Jake, who deposits them and their bags on the steps of the massive house with a friendly wave farewell.

“Agh” Indrid shivers as they step through the newly unlocked doors, “I think it’s actually warmer outside.”

“No kiddin. Damn fog means it’s already gettin too dark to see too. I’ll go get some kind of fire started, you see if you can find some lanterns or candles so we ain’t trippin all over ourselves.”

Indrid begins his search, comes to the kitchen and finds some matches and a candle. The solicitor arranged for food and other supplies to be brought in ahead of time, so in theory lanterns should be somewhere nearby. He’s just glad that the paltry light shows no signs of rodents getting into their food.

When he gets upstairs, he discovers two things; one, all the lamps are gas, so he’s able to light them easily. And two, a mother tortoiseshell cat is nesting with her kittens on a guest bed.

“Well, that explains the lack of mice.”

Footsteps behind him, “Got a fire goin in the sittin room, if you wanna pick a room for yourself I can light one th--awwwww” Duck moves past him towards the cat, who hisses at him, “now, there ain’t any need for that, missy. I ain’t gonna hurt you or your babies. But we oughta bring you somethin more’n mice to eat.”

“I saw some tinned food in the pantry.”

“Perfect, lemme go find a bowl.”

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

Beacon House has seen better days, but Indrid discovers the houses loss is his gain. Duck decides they can do many of the repairs themselves, and sets about ordering supplies from London or bringing them in from Amnesty. The few times they need help, the cook and several others from the Lodge come to assist in the project. These gatherings are far more pleasant than any Indrid had to attend for work (well, except for the ones where he was with Duck). And they always end before dusk.

Indrid occupies himself with figuring out why. There was no mention of this house when he first researched Duck, and even using the local name turns up very little. It’s not until he finds a diary belonging to one H. Newton in the library that he understands.

October the 15th, 1805

I fear the worst is upon me. I cannot leave the house, dare not even peer out the windows for fear of what I shall see. Lucy says it is my health, that we should travel to warmer regions so it will improve. But I know it is not so simple. Were we to flee, it would merely wait for our return. It may even waylay us before we reached town. I am cursed. We are cursed. We always will be.

Beneath the words is a hastily sketched image; yellow eyes and sharp fangs peering from between the bars of the front gate.

There are no more entries.

Indrid is unsure whether to raise the matter with Duck. On the one hand, he wishes him to know of any possible dangers. On the other, his friend is so very content these days, coming in from some project or other with grime on his skin and a smile on his face. Indrid’s own desire to stay with him here, in a house he can pretend is theirs, threatens to drown out all other reasons.

Eventually, his conscience shouts it down while he and Duck are on their evening walk.

“Oh yeah, Barclay told me about that a few days ago. Some ghost apparently wanders around the moor at night; got somethin to do with a murderous ancestor.”

“That does not alarm you.”

“You know I don’t believe in curses and destiny or anythin like that. People make up all kinds of stories when they’re alone in wild places.”

Indrid’s foresight guides his arm, gripping Duck and keeping him from moving forward.

“Does that look like a story?”

Directly ahead of them, a tor rises like a spike. Atop it, revealed by the rising moon, is a gigantic, fur-covered shape.

“See” Duck whispers, “were we back home, I’d say that was a bear.”

“And now?”

“Given there ain’t been bears in this part of the world in decades, I say we get the hell outta here.”

They take off back down the slope, the hall a collection of yellow squares of light in the darkening distance. A howl splits the air behind them and Indrid quickens his pace, keeps his eyes on the future in hopes of protecting them both.

This means he doesn’t see the burrow in the path until his ankle goes sideways in it.

“‘Drid!”

“Under no circumstances are you to try and help meAH!” He yelps as Duck swings him over his shoulder and continues his flight towards the house. As he’s bounced about, Indrid watches a glowing shape bounding closer.

“Thank fuck.” Duck crosses the gate, slams them closed, and lowers Indrid to his feet. Nothing glares at them from the path. But a growl creeps from the shadows and follows them until they shut the door.

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

“How’s the ankle?” Duck drops his coat on the chair opposite Indrid before tending to the fire.

“Better than yesterday. I should be up and moving tomorrow, if the futures are to be believed.”

“You know you don’t gotta rush. I’m happy to take care of you.”

Indrid picks at the ends of the blanket in his lap, “but I miss being able to aid you with work.”

“There’ll be lots of time for that. We got plenty to do to get the house to where we can live in it full time.”

“We?”

Duck goes completely still, then fails to put the fire poker back in place three separate times. When he finally meets Indrid’s eyes, he looks worried.

“‘Drid? What’s your endgame? With, uh, with me?”

“I…” Indrid grabs his teacup, intending to drink it to buy time and finds it empty, ‘I...I don’t know. I, I wanted to prove to you that I could find you a companion who made you happy, hoping you would give me another chance to locate your perfect match. But lately I, ah, I struggle to see that plan working. As I do not wish you to have any match but me.”

Duck moves across the rug, shadows on his face making it hard to read.

“I know that shows great selfishness on my part. If that is not something you wish to have in your life I, I…” he shrinks back as Duck leans down, certain this is the timeline where he accuses him of being a conniving monster.

“Funny you should say you’re bein selfish” Duck braces his arms on either side of the chair, “because I’ve been beatin myself thinkin’ I was selfish for keepin you out here so long.”

“Keep me here forever.” Indrid whispers. Duck smiles, closes the remaining space between them. His lips are still a bit chilly from working outside; Indrid does everything he can to warm them with his own.

The shorter orc straddles him and he whines so needily that Duck snickers in reply.

“What’s wrong darlin? Kissin too much for you?’

“On the contrary; it is far too little, but my injury means my ability to drag you to my bed and beg for more is greatly impeded.”

“Good thing we live alone.” Duck pulls the blanket from Indrid’s lap, nibbles his ear as the seer catches on and begins frantically undoing the buttons of Duck’s workshirt and shoving his suspenders. When at last he pushes it open he loses himself a moment, tipping forward to tongue at the golden ring in Duck’s left nipple.

“AHheh, gettin right to it. Good” Duck unbuttons his pants, “because I’ve been wantin to fuck you since before we even came out here.”

“Oh I see” Indrid purrs, “you lured me into the countryside to sully my virtue.”

Duck laughs, full throated, as his tusks catch in the firelight, “You forgettin the time we got drunk instead of goin to the opera and you told me you convinced two sailors to take you home?”

“Only if you’ve forgotten telling me about the young ranch-hand you gave several rides to” Indrid nibbles along his neck, his twitching oddly in their quest to grind against him without jostling his ankle.

“Not a chance. But I don’t care about reminiscin right now; right now, I got the best lookin fella in the world beggin for my dick.”

“I’m not begging.” Indrid tilts his head back to help Duck get his shirt open some.

“Not yet.” Duck grins, then shoves his hand down his trousers.

“Ohhhhhyes” Indrid reaches for him.

“Keep your hands on the armrests until I say you can move ‘em.”

“But, but” it’s hard to argue when he’s trying to stare a hole through Duck’s remaining clothes. His partner notices and makes a show of moaning louder.

“Only good boys get to watch the show. You gonna be good for me?”

“The best.”

Duck kisses the tip of his nose, then wiggles and kicks his pants and underwear off. Indrid can only watch, growing more envious by the moment, as he fucks himself open and rubs a thumb along his cock. Indrid tries bucking his hips, only to discover Duck is keeping himself out of reach.

“Cruel creature.” Indrid groans.

“Cruel? I’m giving you a seat to the best show in town.”

“I’d rather you take the best seat in town.”

Duck laughs, is still doing so when he bends to kiss him. Indrid whimpers, nails digging into the upholstery to keep his promise of good behavior. Duck notices.

“Good boy.”

“AHHHnnnthankyou, thankyouthankyouthankyou” Indrid moans as Duck drops his weight into his lap, grinding on his clothed cock with abandon. He flings Indrids hands up to his shoulders. The seer glides them up to his hair, burying them there where he’s now certain they’ve always belonged. Duck mirrors him, lips only leaving his to bite the tip of his ear.

“Fuck, Indrid, that’s it darlin, lemme ride you like the sleek little beast you are.”

He whines, loses his thoughts as Ducks hips quicken.

“I know ‘Drid, you like bein mine, like that I’ll bounce on this fuckin perfect dick as often as you want as long as you’re my good, sweet, ohsweetfuck, fuck, darlin’” Duck drops his forehead to Indrid’s shoulder with a groan as he cums, soaking the fabric of his pants. Before Indrid can think about stopping, Duck picks up again with as much force as before, growling in his ear to be a good little social climber and cum for his lord.

Indrid cums at that with a chirping sound he thought he’d stopped making long ago, legs spasming from the force of his climax. Unfortunately, this means his pleasure is chased by a burst of pain. He whimpers, flinches, and Duck spots the problem.

“Oh, oh darlin I’m sorry” He drops to the floor, rubbing Indrid’s thighs, “thought the position would keep you from hurtin.”

“Apparently not. I, I want you to know I don’t regret it in the slightest.”

Duck smiles, relieved, and rests his head on Indrid’s stomach, “Guess you did find me a match, huh?”

Indrid bends slowly, nuzzling his hair with a hum, “Yes, I believe so.”

#indruck #meet ugy #indrid cold/ duck newton #orc au #victorian au #trans duck newton

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instasiswetrust · 3 years

Text

"Holy shit the school bad boy's courting you." Dustin whispered in disbelief as he stared at both the pin and the worn bloodied bat Steve had settled between them on the table.

"Wait, he's what?" Steve frowned, fingers picking up the pin adorned with a creepy smiling face. "No way."

"No, I'm serious Steve. This is like straight-up Jason Todd style courting. He totally kicked the whole baseball team's ass for you."

“That’s ridiculous man, Frank wo-” He ended up stopping mid-sentence because actually, Frank would. He definitely would. Everyone had heard the beating he had given Billy for smacking Hak-Quinn’s ass the other day, it made sense he would go against the baseball team as his way of proving he could provide for him.

Realization crossed Steve's face, lips forming a small surprised ‘oh’ while Dustin just shook his head as if he couldn't believe it had taken Steve this long to realize he was being courted.

"So what are you gonna do?" The younger boy asked, stealing a couple fries from Steve's plate before the other could react.

"What do you mean what I'm gonna do?" He said weakly, slapping Dustin's hand away when he tried to reach for more fries.

"What do you mean, what do I mean?" And it was clear in his tone he knew Steve was acting like this on purpose. "Are you gonna accept his courting, or tell him no?"

The Omega blushes, immediately flustered by the question. Having thought he would be a Beta or an Alpha for most of his life, he had known the whole courting thing would've eventually fallen on him to do it. Now with the roles reversed, he couldn't help but feel flattered by the gestures.

"Look, I don't know, maybe I will talk to him about it or something." Dustin seemed to catch the finality in his words because he finally changed topics, asking Steve instead about how Demo was faring.

Still, he had already made up his mind on this topic.

By the end of classes the next day, he hunted down the self-proclaimed leader of Legion. Steve might've been an Omega sure, but he was also taller and had the body of an athlete. Even so, he believed it wouldn't have been so easy for him to cage Frank against the wall had the Alpha not allowed him to.

"Are you... Are you courting me?" He cut right to the chase, wanting to make sure it wasn't all in his head.

"Been trying my best, yeah." Frank had a jackal grin on his face, looking up at Steve. Not intimidated in the slightest, with a flicker of something in his eye that stirred something up in Steve's gut. Something strange and new and not at all bad. "You like?"

Steve didn't answer with words. Doubts he even could. Instead leaned down and kissed Frank hard. Kissed him until they were both out of breath, Steve's cheeks flushed a pale red. A wide grin stretched his lips when he finally pulled away.

"Friday, 7 pm. I'll pay for the movie tickets if you smuggle in the food. Deal?"

"I got a key to the theater's back door. No need to spend money on me, doll." Frank's grinning again, all sharp cheekbones and even sharper fangs.

"You kick the whole baseball team's ass for me, and I don't get to spend a couple bucks on you? Unfair." And yeah maybe he was pouting, but really it didn't sit well with him not to repay Frank in some way after the way he left the baseball team.

"If you insist, ain't gonna put up a fight. Just thought I'd tell ya if you wanted to trade emptying your wallet for a little thrill." Frank shrugged, grin still solid on his face. Reaches out to cup Steve's face. "Comes with the bad boy package, y'know?"

Steve couldn't help leaning into the touch, eyes never straying from those stormy grey irises. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, dripping with honesty. "I think I would like to find out."

Frank laughed and Steve found himself liking the sound way more than he expected. It was rough and relaxed and shameless.

"Be happy to show ya, doll."

And Steve had to admit the excitement of knowing he had an actual date was enough to keep his mind off the bullying and taunts for the remaining days of the week.

Frank meets him at the theater entrance, right on time. Steve, who had walked the whole way here so as to not have to explain to his parents where he was going, is thankful that he will be able to catch a ride once the movie is done.

As promised Steve pays for two tickets then Frank drags him into another movie after the first movie ends, and another one after that. Steve doesn't feel like complaining, even if the movie genres are all over the place. He's having fun and this is the most he's broken the rules after the whole omega thing.

And really, if they makeout halfway through the second movie and end up missing half the bullshit plot, Steve only has Frank to blame. He kept heckling the cheesy bits under his breath making Steve laugh until he was hiding snorts behind his hand.

It's around midnight when they finally leave the theater, and as soon as they step outside Steve's phone starts ringing. His parents on the other end of the phone, angry because Steve's being careless.

"You should be more careful! What if something happened to you? And shouldn't you be worried about studying? You already lost that baseball scholarship-"

He must've made a face or something because Frank snatches the phone from his hand. Quick reflexes and firm grip. It takes Steve by surprise.

"Hello, Mister .. Missus Harrington -" He starts, and he's determined to take the weight off Steve as best he can and he's no Fairfield and he's certainly not Hak-Quinn, but he can play a part good enough for a phone call. "The movie ran a bit later than expected, but I'll see your son home safe and sound!"

And before his parents have any chance to respond, Frank hangs up.

Steve is stunned for a whole five seconds, blinking at Frank, before what happened sets in and he groans. "Ah shit, now they are gonna want to meet you!"

"I got makeup in my car," Frank says, clicking his tongue as he hands back the phone. "Nothing I can do about the hair."

And Steve looks at Frank dumbly for a second. Confused because, why would Frank need makeup?

"Tattoo. For hiding the tattoo." Frank waves a dismissive hand as he slings his other around Steve's waist. Comfortable. Warm. Close. "Hak-Quinn taught me how."

Steve is dumbfounded. "You would... For me? Wha-"

"... Well duh?" He kinda looks at Steve, confused himself. "I'm not exactly the kind of person people are proud to bring home but it stresses you out so I can play pretend." He raises an eyebrow, grins again, like a feral dog. "Unless you'd rather I show up as is? Full punk?"

"Oh. Oh Frank no, I'm not ashamed of being seen with you." Steve shakes his head, rolling his eyes. "I just know my parents and they will try to prevent me from seeing you. I don't want that to happen, that's all."

Frank looks at Steve. And he's quiet for a moment. And then a softer smile steals across his face.

"You have no idea how you smell right now, do you?"

Steve flinches a little, looks away, but he knows Frank's question is honest, not a jab. "I'm scent blind actually. Doc said it would get better with time but I can't recognize my own scent at all."

"You smell miserable, doll. Not too keen on handing you back to the cause of it, y'know?"

And then Frank scents him. It's light. Polite, even. But Steve knows the action even if he can't smell what it does.

Skin on skin contact and the soft rumbling purr of an alpha.

It kinda hits him then that he's not alone anymore. Frank cares. Cares enough to willingly offer to hide parts of himself just so Steve wouldn't get too hard a time with his parents. It's easily the most thoughtful thing someone that is not Dustin or Nancy, has done for him. Can't help it if he tears up a little.

"Waitin' on your answer, doll," Frank murmurs, probably aware of how Steve is feeling thanks to his scent. "Makeup will take a hot minute and we're gonna have to get you home .. eventually."

Steve ends up shaking his head, surreptitiously wiping a tear or two off his cheeks. "I'm not gonna hide you like you're something to be ashamed of. I'll just deal with them if they get too pushy."

"Cute." Frank's grin returns and he steals himself a kiss before pushing Steve towards his car.

They drive too fast and blast the music too loud. Steve doesn't know any of the lyrics, the music too far off from his usual tastes, but when he tries to somewhat sing along and Frank rewards him with a heart-stopping grin? Worth it.

As expected, Steve's parents are at the door when they arrive. Disappointed face, even more, disappointed scents. Steve's mom is glaring at Frank, his dad is just looking at Steve like he's a lost cause.

"Mister Harrington. Missus." Frank's got a jackal's grin on his face again, and Steve can't smell it, but his scent is twined around the anxious omega like an extra buffer.

It's amazing how Frank doesn't even care about the venom in his parents' eyes, writing him off near immediately with his dyed hair and throat tattoo and grunge aesthetic.

Steve's parents don't even deign to give a response, just march back inside and wait for him to follow after them.

"I had fun, thank you. I will see you tomorrow." Steve murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss to Frank’s cheek before going in and closing the door behind him.

They barely waited until the door was closed before they started demanding answers. Frank probably hadn't even left, but they didn't care and Steve hated it. Hated all of it.

His night had been amazing, maybe even the best night he had had this year, but that call had to ruin it.

Before presenting, when they had still thought he would be a Beta or a late Alpha, his parents wouldn't have bothered calling him for a night out. As long as he was home for breakfast, everything was fine. These days though, they had become protective to the point it was bordering on controlling and it bothered Steve.

Maybe he should be glad that they were trying to show they cared but it was hard to do when their words were “Stop putting yourself in unnecessary danger that will just cause more trouble for us.” and not “We are just worried something will happen to you.”

Ever since the goddamn results came back, it was always about them. How this would be a problem for them. How losing the scholarship meant they would have to invest more money in him. How Steve getting involved with a delinquent would look on them.

They don't bother asking how he is coping with it all. The changes in his body, the bullying at school they know nothing about, how he had to give up the sport he loved because society decided Omegas weren't made to be in sports. For God's sake, he had cried the morning he received the letter notifying him his scholarship had been suspended. But either they didn't know about that, didn't realize, or didn't care.

“Well? What do you have to say for yourself, young man?” His dad demanded, disappointment emanating from every pore in his body.

Steve might've been scent blind, but familiarity and time had allowed him to distinguish his parents' scents and the shifts in their emotions. Because of this, he wasn't spared from the full brunt of disappointment, anger, upset coming from both his parents. It was hard not to reflexively make himself appear smaller but he knew that would just make his dad angrier.

"I don't really see what the problem is, dad." He said, running a hand through his hair and sighing in exasperation. "I told you guys I would be out till late, and that I was going out with a friend. You had the location of the movie theater too. So what really is the problem here?"

"When you said you would be going out with a friend, we thought you meant that nice girl Robin, or maybe the Wheeler's kid, Nancy. You guys made such a cute couple, Stevie." His mom interjected, her tone softer but no less upset than his dad's had been.

"Mom, please. Nancy and I broke up a year ago already, will you drop it? Plus Robin is not even my type!"

"Of course because apparently, your type is no-good delinquents, you have made that clear." His dad snapped, glaring down at him.

Steve frowned, glaring back at him. "Frank is a classmate and a friend. He defended me when the baseball team started labeling me as a slut just because I'm an Omega. I think that's more than either of you have done about this!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Steve knew he had made a mistake. His dad's nostrils flared and his mother gasped like maybe they were sensing something he wasn't. At least his dad might've because his mother was as scent blind like him, maybe worse. There was a reason scenting was something he didn't know how to do properly.

"Can't believe you needed the help of someone like that to defend yourself. Didn't we teach you to stand up for yourself, Steve? Or do you think just because you are an Omega now you get to play the weak card?" His dad snarked, eyes narrowed.

"Honey-"

"No." His dad shook his head, ignoring his mother's hand on his shoulder. "You are to stop any contact with that delinquent. Now to your room, Steve."

"Wha- Dad-"

"To your room, I said." He didn't yell but the growl was so clear in his voice that Steve couldn't help but flinch and lower his head.

Fine. He would play to their rules while they were watching, but like hell he would give up on what he and Frank had. Not after he had just gotten it.

#alpha/beta/omega dynamics #dbd #dead by daylight #steve harrington #frank morrison #dbd frank #dbd steve #adopted au #drabbles #Morrington #frankxsteve

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atlafan · 4 years

Note

love take it slow, would you be willing to write something about you telling harry that you want him to meet your kid? and maybe the night ends with some smut🥺👀

a/n: this has been in my inbox for awhile, let’s see how this goes...Harry is 35 in this, and y/n is 32. This also turned into pure fluff, sorry no smut!

The Kids Are Alright

You and Harry had been dating for a couple of months. It was nice having a man in your life again. Your divorce was ugly, to say the least. You had full custody of your kids, and it took over a year before you could make it so. You were finally in a place of stability that allowed you to start dating again.

You had met Harry completely by accident. He saw you struggling one morning on your walk to work. It had started pouring out of nowhere, and you had no umbrella. After just about everything fell out of your purse, he rushed over to you, holding his umbrella above the both of you and helped you with your things. He gave you his umbrella. He said you were dressed much nicer than he was, and you needed it more. You exchanged information after you insisted you get it back to him. The rest progressed from there. You hadn’t told Harry about your ex-husband or your two children. Although, he had his suspicions. You could only go out with him on Friday and Saturday nights, and you never stayed over at his place.

You needed to make sure you could trust him before even thinking of telling him you had two kids, before you could even think about bringing him around to meet them. Harry just figured you were really busy, or that you had needy clients since you were a therapist. He was busy in his own right since he was an oral surgeon.

Saturday night had become a regular date night for the two of you, and your kids were happy to see you so happy. They didn’t much care for their father, for good reason.

“So, when do we get to have date night with this guy?” Your ten year old daughter asks you as she watches you put your jewelry on.

“I’ve only been seeing him for a couple of months, Candace. It’s too soon for him to meet you and Ben.” You sigh and look at her. “In fact, tonight I’m finally telling him that I have kids.”

“Wait, you never told him about us?”

“No...I didn’t know if he’d run for the hills. I mean, he’s thirty-five, never been married and doesn’t have kids of his own. What if he doesn’t want that for himself?”

“How do you know he doesn’t have kids, he could be lying just like you.” She crosses her arms.

“I haven’t been lying...it just hasn’t come up. You’ll understand some day when you’re older.”

“That’s been your answer for a lot of things over the last couple of years.” She huffs and follows you out of the bedroom.

The babysitter was already there, sitting downstairs with Ben. He had just turned eight a month or so ago.

“Alright Rita, I should be home around eleven like usual.”

“Okay, have a great time!”

You give both of your kids a hug and kiss, and out the door you go. You were meeting Harry at a nice Italian place. He was always taking you to nice places, but you didn’t mind. After having such a shit marriage, and a shit husband, you were happy to be pampered a bit. You meet him in the lobby of the restaurant and he greets you with a kiss on the cheek.

“Hi, gorgeous.” He gets a good look at you. “How was your day?”

“Good! Ran some errands, you know how Saturdays go.” You smile.

You both are seated and Harry orders a bottle of wine for the table. He looked tired.

“Long week?”

“Sort of...took out four impacted wisdom teeth yesterday. Poor kid’s gonna be sore for a bit. It was a longer surgery than usual.” He shrugs. “But she’ll be alright. How was your week?”

“Long, had all my usual people, and a couple of newbies. All in all, good sessions. Only went through two boxes of tissues, don’t know if that’s good or bad.”

You both laugh. The wine is brought over for you both, and it’s poured into your glasses. You both order your dinners, and an appetizer.

“Harry...I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you these last couple of months.”

“Same here, Y/N.”

“I feel sort of childish asking this, but would you say I’m your girlfriend?” At the ripe age of 32, and having been someone’s wife, the word girlfriend sounded incredibly stupid to you, but here you were.

“I would.” He smiles. “That’s what I’ve been telling people anyways.”

“Aw, you tell people about me.”

“Hard not to when you go into work with a hickey on your neck.”

“Oh my god.” You blush. “That one from a couple weeks ago? I’m sorry, I can’t even remember the last time I did that to someone, and-”

“Relax, babe, I’m only teasing.” He places his hand over yours. “Suppose I was goin’ to ask about our status soon too. Nice to know we’re on the same page.” You nod at him.

Your food is brought over, and it’s delicious. You both enjoy more pleasant conversation. It was nice not having to talk about homework, or whatever else you would talk with other parents about. Although, now that your kids were a little older, you enjoyed the conversations you’d have with them regularly.

“Care to come back to my place for a bit after dinner? I picked up that cheesecake you like so much for dessert.”

“I’d love that! I’ll follow you there.”

You drive to Harry’s apartment. Sometimes you wondered why he didn’t just buy a house, but you figured he didn’t need all that space. And he did work a lot, a house would be too much to care of by himself. The home you have now is one you bought only two years ago. You refused to stay in the home where everything went down with your husband. Harry’s place was nice, anyways. Two bedroom, two bath, and plenty of space to spread out.

You sit down on his couch while he brings more wine over, and a plate with a piece of cheesecake to share.

“Been looking forward to seein’ yeh all week, you know?”

“That’s sweet of you to say.” You kiss his cheek and take a sip of wine.

“Would you like to spend the night tonight? I like what we do when we’re doin’ it, but it would also just be nice to have you here to hold onto all night.”

“I can’t do that, I’m sorry.” You sigh and take your phone out. “It’s not that I don’t want to spend the full night with you...”

“So then why do you always leave? Are you allergic to Sunday brunch?” You can’t help but laugh. “I’ve never been able to make you my pancakes. I make really good pancakes.”

“God, my kids love pancakes.” Both of your eyes grow wide when you look at each other.

“Kids?”

“Yes...” You show him a picture of the three of you on your phone. “That’s my daughter, Candace, she’s ten, and that’s Ben, he just turned eight.”

“Ah, so that was the birthday party you had to go to last month.”

“Mhm.” He looks at you.

“Well, they’re really cute.” He chuckles. “A little older than I would’ve expected. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I don’t know, this is all so new. I mean, I’ve been a single mom for nearly four years, you’re the first guy I’ve dated in a long time. And you’re...I mean...do you have secret kids?”

“No.” He laughs. “Never been married either. I’m assuming you have?”

“Yeah...we separated and then divorced. Like I said it was four years ago, and I just only got full custody over my kids a year ago. Their father is a shithead, they didn’t want to be near him. They dreaded every weekend they had to spend with him, and I hated sending him, but legally there wasn’t much I could do. I swear he only fought me on the custody just to spite me. Obviously we were sort of young when I got pregnant with Candace. Everything has worked out, thank god. Luckily I’m good at my job so I keep us afloat. The reason I don’t stay over is because I couldn’t very well ask the sixteen year old girl who babysits for me to watch them all night.”

“No, I suppose that would be a bit weird.” He smirks. “Got any family nearby? They could always watch ‘em right?”

“Harry.” You roll your eyes and swat a hand at him. “So...it doesn’t freak you out that I’m a mom?”

“Not at all! So, your ex is completely out of the picture?”

“Completely. He moved across the country, nothing to keep him here now. He sends the kids birthday and holiday cards, that’s about the only contact I allow him to have with them. And to answer your question, my parents only live an hour or so away, and they do visit a good chunk. But I certainly couldn’t ask them to take them for a weekend for the sole reason of staying over at my boyfriend’s house.”

“No, I guess you’d need a better excuse than that.” He laughs.

“So how come you’re thirty-five and you never settled down?”

“I put school and work above a lot of things. Think my last serious relationship was nearly three years ago, and she got sick of waitin’ f’me.” He shrugs. “Dated here and there, but I haven’t been anyone’s boyfriend in awhile.”

“But you’d like to be mine?”

“Yeah, I like you a lot.” He smiles.

“Good, because I like you a lot too.” He cups your cheek in his hand.

“Well, if you’re not spendin’ the night, can I take yeh to the bedroom now so I can at least have some time to just lay with you after.”

“I’d like that.”

You were piss drunk the first time you had sex with Harry. You couldn’t help it. You hadn’t had sex in a very long time, well other than with your dildo, but that’s besides the point. You weren’t sure if you would feel tight for him, but after about the third time he said it to you, you had to believe him that you were, in fact, plenty tight.

Sex with him not was a lot less scary. You enjoyed it very much, and so did he. Your bodies just had a way of connecting. It was something you hadn’t had in a very long time.

“How was your date Mrs. Y/L/N?”

“Honey, I’ve told you it’s Miss, I’m not a Mrs.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright. And it was good, he’s a good man.” You give her fifty dollars and out she goes.

The next morning you make pancakes for your kids and they’re far too excited about it.

“Mum, you haven’t made pancakes in forever, what’s the occasion?” Candace asks, dumping a ton of syrup over them.

“Easy with that! Save some for your brother. And there’s no occasion, I just remembered how much you both like pancakes.” You shrug and sit down between them.

“Mmm, these are so good mumma, thanks.” Ben says. You loved that he still called you mumma. He was such a love-bug.

“So, how was your date with the oral surgeon?”

“It was good, honey. He’s actually my boyfriend now.”

“Oh, you’ve made it official?!”

“Mhm.” You smile as you take a bite of your food. “And he didn’t wanna run away when I told him about the two of you.”

“When can we meet him?” Ben asks.

“I’m not sure...even though I’m his girlfriend now I’d like to wait on that I think. I’d hate to bring someone into your lives and then have it not work out.”

“Did he say if he had kids or was ever married?” Candace asks.

“He’s never been married, and doesn’t have kids of his own. But he really didn’t seem freaked out about you two. He was more so surprised that you weren’t younger. Suppose it would’ve been harder to keep two toddlers a secret.” You laugh.

“You always tell us never to keep secrets.” Ben says. “How come you get to?”

“Because sometimes when you’re adult, you need to withhold certain things from other adults. You’ll understand when-”

“When we’re older, Jesus Christ.”

“Candace! We don’t speak like that at the table.”

“What? It’s not like I said the f-word.”

“God, help me.” You sigh.

A few more months pass, and you’re feeling really good about things with Harry. You even manage to spend a couple nights with him on the various weekends the kids are with your parents. You two were snuggled up on his couch watching a movie when he paused it.

“I’ve never been to your place, never even picked you up for a date.”

“I know.”

“Well? How ‘bout we start doin’ that. I hate how after dinner we never get to drive together.”

“It’s just...the kids would see you picking me up.”

“And?” He sighs. “Listen, I’ve been thinking...what if it was time I met them? We’ve been together for like six months, I think it makes sense.”

“You really want to?”

“Yeah, I mean, you’re a part of my life now, and they’re a part of yours.”

“Sure...I know they wanna meet you. Guess I’ve been the one holding it up.”

“They’ve been okay with you dating?”

“I think if they loved their father they’d act like most kids and hate to see me move on, but they can’t stand him, so they’re happy for me.”

“It’s none of my business, but-”

“He used to beat on us, all of us. I’d get in the way to spare them, but it was no use if they got home before I did. It was awful, I did everything I could to get out of there, and eventually I did.”

“Oh, Y/N, I’m so sorry.” He caresses your cheek and you lean into his touch.

“It was a long time ago.” You feel tears prick at your cheeks. “I’ll never be able to understand how someone could their babies, or how the courts didn’t give me full custody right away. He’d only beat on us when he was drunk, and he did stop drinking, but I still didn’t trust him. He tried to prove he was a good father, but it was all rubbish.” You sigh. “It’s all in the past now.” You give him a reassuring smile. “I’ll talk to them, maybe we could have you over for a little lunch in the backyard. The kids love when I fire up the grill.”

“That sounds great! What are they into? Like, what are their hobbies?”

“Well, Candace is a mix. She loves theater and singing, but she also loves soccer, and getting her hands dirty. Ben loves to paint. He absolutely loves his crafts. He likes to play outside, but he couldn’t be bothered with sports. Used to go right up his father’s ass. Candace plays softball too. I feel terrible, I haven’t had much time to play catch with her lately. Luckily, it’s soccer season right now, so she’s not too mad at me about it. Ben plays goalie for her in the backyard, and it works for them.”

“They’re close?”

“They weren’t when they were younger, but they stood by each other when we were going through everything. They’re not best friends, but you can really see the love between them. It’s wonderful.”

“I like the theater too, actually. I enjoy a good show once in a while.”

“Really?”

“Oh, sure. I acted a bit in school.”

You could see the wheels turning in Harry’s head.

“Please don’t feel like you need to do anything to impress them. Just be yourself. They were already so amazed that a man gave me his umbrella.” You chuckle.

“I’m nothing if not a gentleman.” He winks at you. “Well, only in the streets.”

He lifts you up of the couch, and you squeal as he takes you to his bedroom.

“How was your weekend with Gram and Pop?” You ask the kids as you drive them back home.

“It was so much fun, Gram got us that cereal that you don’t let us have.” Ben says.

“Oh, that one loaded with sugar that you don’t need first thing in morning? That’s spectacular.” You roll your eyes.

“Did you see Mr. Styles while we were gone?” Candace asks.

“I did.” The two look at each other. “He asked me if he could meet the two of you soon.”

“He did?!”

“Mhm, so I told him I would ask the two of you.”

“Well, you know we wanna meet him mumma.” Ben says.

“Yeah, bring him over.”

“Alright, I told him we could do a little lunch out back, do a little grilling. Would you both like that?”

“Yes!” They say in unison.

On Saturday around noon, Harry arrives at your house. He thought it was lovely. You gave him instructions to go right around back, so he does so.

“Hello?” He says as he opens the gate.

“Harry!” You say walking up to him. “Find it okay?” You both kiss quick, and you walk him further into the yard.

“Yeah, it was a really easy drive.”

He looks around and sees a swing-set, a little net to play soccer with, and a patio with a lovely glass table and chairs. You see he has a couple of bags with him.

“I brought some soda...do you give them soda? I suppose I should’ve asked first.”

“I give it to them on special occasions, suppose this is one of them.” You smile and take it from him, setting it on the table. “I just sent them in to wash up. They were rolling around in the dirt.”

Candace and Ben walk outside and are stunned when they see Harry. Candace noticed his curls, and quite liked the style of glasses he was wearing. Ben was mesmerized by the tattoos that littered his arms. He wasn’t at all like they pictures, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Tattoos didn’t automatically mean bad. Their father was a bad person and didn’t have a single tattoo.

“Kids, come say hello, don’t just stand there like statues.” You laugh. Candace extends her arm to shake his hand.

“Hi Mr. Styles, it’s nice to meet you.”

“How polite.” He smiles and takes her hand. “Feel free to call me Harry if you feel comfortable with that.”

“Hello.” Ben shakes his hand next.

“It’s great to meet yeh both. Your mum has told me so much about you. All good things I promise.” The two giggle. “Um...I brought some things for the two of you.”

“Oh, Harry, you didn’t have to...”

“I know.” He reaches into the bag and crouches to Ben’s level. “Mum told me you liked to paint and do crafts, so I got you one of these water color sets. They’re really cool. My niece likes ‘em a lot, thought you might too.” He looks up at you. “And they don’t make a mess.”

Ben takes it from him, amazed that an adult man was being nice about his hobbies.

“What do we say, Ben?”

“Thank you very much.” He beams at Harry. “Mumma, can I open it now?”

“Sure.” You shrug. “Let me just fill a glass of water for you, you can sit at the patio table.” You get him set up while Harry speaks to Candace.

“Now, your mum told me you have a ton of hobbies, but mostly you haven’t had someone to play catch with, so I dug up my old mit.” He takes it out of the bag. “It’s for baseball, but figured it could still do the trick.” He takes a brand new softball out of the bag. “What do yeh say? We could toss it around while your mum gets lunch together.”

“I’d love to!” She snatches the ball from him. “Thanks, this is like the best brand out there.” She looks at you and gives you a thumbs up. You laugh as you fire up the grill.

You smile as you watch Ben use his new water color set, and smile even more while you watch Candace toss the ball with Harry.

“You know, if you step into it a bit more...” He puts a hand on his hip. “And if you, like, do you mind if I show you?”

“Okay.”

He jobs over to her.

“So...you wanna look where you’re throwing, right? And you’re doin’ that, but you’re releasing it back here, it should be when you get here. And if you step and throw, you could really get a more precise thing goin’.”

“I’ve only played one season, and the coach never showed us stuff like this, thanks!”

Harry jogs back to his spot, and Candace does exactly what he said, throwing it to him perfectly.

“Amazing! You’re a fast learner, Candace.”

“Way to go honey! She likes playing second base, any tips on that?”

“Oh, tons.”

“I’m not too good at batting either.”

“Well good thing we’ve got plenty of time to get you ready for the season. By the time I’m done with yeh the coach’ll be puttin’ yeh in first every game.”

“Candace, go wash your hands again, it’s time for lunch.”

“But we’re having so much fun.” She whines.

“You can play more after. Come on, we all need to go wash up.”

You take Harry inside, and show him to the kitchen where he can wash his hands. You tell him you’ll give him the full tour later. Lunch goes really well. The kids tell Harry all about school. He was so natural with them, it put you at ease. After lunch, Harry continued to help Candace with her softball skills. At a certain point you told her that was enough, and that she should play with her brother. You and Harry sit as the two of them played on the swing-set.

“This has been a lot of fun, Y/N.”

“Really? Oh, I’m so glad. I think they really like you.”

“I like them too.”

Harry started coming over for dinner when he could. The kids really liked having him around. When it had been about a year of the two of you dating, you and the kids asked Harry to move in with you. He liked your home quite a bit, so it didn’t take much for him to agree.

“Can I ask you something?” He says as you’re both settling into bed.

“Of course.”

“Ben asked me to come to his career day...are you alright with that?”

“Yeah! I think he wants us to go together. It’s been on my calendar for a while.”

“I told him I’d make it work, but...what’s he supposed to call me? S’not like I’m his dad...or his step-dad...”

“Your his Harry.” You smile.

“Do you think you’d ever want to be married again?”

“Maybe, if the right guy came along.” You nudge him.

“Very funny.” He rolls his eyes. “M’serious, I mean we’ve been together over a year, and we haven’t really talked about it. I live here now, I’m in their lives...”

“I don’t want you to feel like you need to marry me to seal the deal.”

“I don’t feel that way. I want to marry you because I love you.”

“And I love you.”

“Alright, so maybe I’ll ask you soon.” He grins, and now you’re the one to roll your eyes. “I have another question...so I love bein’ an uncle, and I’ve loved steppin’ into this fatherly role with Candace and Ben. It’s honestly something I never saw for myself. Do you think you’d ever want more?” Your face falls.

“I physically can’t have more...I had to have a hysterectomy a few years back.”

“Ah.”

“Is that okay? I mean did you want your own kids?”

“Don’t phrase it like. I do have my own kids...and no, I don’t really want, like, a baby. I honestly don’t think I’d have the time to care for an infant.”

“Me neither. I’m sort of relieved you’re okay with it. I know I’m still young enough to have a baby, I feel like I finally have my life back. Babies are cute and wonderful, and I enjoyed that time with them so much, but I’m over that time in my life. I can actually have real conversations with them now, you know?”

“I’m really glad we’re on the same page.”

“Me too.”

About six months later, Harry proposed and you accepted. You both wanted a small wedding. You had a very simple ceremony in your back yard with only close friends and family. The kids had gotten into the habit of calling Harry, Dad. Sometimes they would switch on and off, but Dad mostly stuck. He liked the sound of it a lot.

You had made sure to sign every form you could to Harry had permissions at school to pick the kids up and drop them off. All their teachers knew Candace and Ben had a step-father.

Harry was full engrossed in the kids lives. He became Candace’s softball coach, and all the kids loved him. You had never seen Candace play so well. He also made sure to support all of Ben’s school art shows. For a guy that didn’t want to be a father, he was kicking butt at being a good one.

Around Candace’s twelfth birthday, you and Harry had decided on something very important, and it was time to share it with the two of them.

“We never have family meetings, this is weird.” Candace says as her and Ben sit on the couch.

“Well, that’s because there’s something mum and I want to tell you.” He clears his throat. “So...even though we’re married, and that makes me your step-father, legally that really doesn’t mean much. I’m not considered a true guardian. And even though the school knows I’m your step-dad, I’ve still run into some issues here and there. Your mum and I work a lot, and we each need to be able to dismiss you easily or whatever it is.” He takes a packet of paper out of his back pocket. “Also...I’ve been in your lives for nearly three years...and I consider myself to be more than just your step-dad, wouldn’t you both agree?”

“Yeah, obviously. We call you dad all the time. Whenever someone asks who you are I just say you’re my dad.”

“I do the same thing.” Ben says.

“Right, so...we thought we’d make that official.” He hands Candace the papers.

“Certificate of Adoption?” She looks up at the two of you.

“It’s taken us some time to get this all together, but it’s legal now.” You explain.

“I’ve adopted the two of you, hope that’s okay.”

They both stand and hug Harry immediately. If something were to ever happen to you, you’d want them with Harry. Your parents were great and all, but you wouldn’t want them ripped away from their father.

“Are you serious?” Candace asks teary eyed. “You really love us that much?”

“I love you both more than anything. You two are my kids, and I won’t have someone tellin’ me you’re not.”

The truth was, there were a ton of parents who liked to gossip about the two of you. Ever since Harry came into your life and things got more serious. You wouldn’t look at him and know he was such one of the most sought after oral surgeons in the area. When he started coaching Candace’s softball team, that was when the gossip got even worse. The two of you couldn’t stand it any longer. It also warmed your heart that Harry truly thought of Candace and Ben as his own. Because of Harry you were able to give them a normal life again.

“So now that his is official, I have a question.” Ben says. “If we’re your kids does that mean our last names can be Styles now too? I mean, mum’s is.”

It was true, you had heightened your last name. You didn’t even do that with your last husband. You were a doctor and you earned that title, why should his name be attached to that? But with Harry, well, you just like the way that sounded.

“You both want my last name?”

“Yes.” They say at the same time. He looks at you.

“I think we can make that work. It really doesn’t make sense for you to have his last name anymore, does it?” They both shake their heads no. “We really should all have the same last name.”

“I agree.”

The two of them high five each other.

“Now then.” You wipe a couple of tears away. “Go put on some nice clothes, we’re going out to eat tonight to celebrate.”

The two race upstairs while Harry wraps his arms around you.

“So, Mrs. Y/L/N-Styles, I’d say that went pretty well.”

“Mhm, can you believe they want to be Styles’ too?”

“How could they not? S’a pretty cool name.”

You kiss each other and wait for them to come back down. You never in your wildest dreams would’ve thought you’d get a second chance at a happy life. Harry was everything you needed and more. You were incredibly grateful and lucky. And to think, if you had simply had your umbrella that day on the street, none of this would be yours.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles y/n #harry styles x y/n #why did this take me all day to write?#why do I do this to myself?#hope you like!#stepdad!Harry

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mycupoffanfiction · 4 years

Text

Someone Sweet

Coco Cruz x Reader

Part 2 of A Biker and His Baker, following Someone Special

Summary: The boys get introduced to Coco’s girl by ‘accident’ when she comes to greet her boyfriend after he returns from a run.

Warnings: None, just a kiss and lots of fluff.

Word count: Approx 1200

Masterlist

A/N: Hi loves, apologies for it being a couple of weeks, I was taking a short break to spend some time with family. I hope you enjoy this part, I plan to add more to this if people are interested in me continuing this story, I have quite a few ideas for this, but let me know what you think! I’d really like to do some drabbles for the very beginning of their relationship as well as after this point! 💖

Thirty minutes and EZ and Angel were still in the butcher’s shop speaking to their pops. Coco was bored and impatient, but he had promised he’d wait and he didn’t see either of the Reyes brothers coming out of the store anytime soon and he stood, leaning against his bike as he smoked the last cigarette in his pack. We’ll only be five minutes they had said, Coco decided it was possibly the longest ‘five minutes’ he’d ever had to wait.

Glancing across the street, he could see you working in the bakery and he felt his resolve being tested the more he watched you work. You looked so pretty today, he’d not been able to see you for nearly a week and the last time he had seen you, it had been in the early morning when the light was hazy and soft and you were in his bed, wearing his shirt. “See you tomorrow, mi querida.” Coco had whispered sleepily to you, his voice deep with his morning grogginess. “Come back to me, Coco.” You had told him, peering up at him through your sleepy, half lidded eyes. “I will, I promise, cariña.” He said, propping one knee onto the bed as he leaned over to kiss you goodbye.

How he had wanted to spend the whole morning with you, hold you close and make breakfast with you. You hadn’t even thought of doing anything intimate with each other yet, but eventually on one of those hazy, romantic mornings, you’d spend the early hours making love. But no, he had to go off with the boys on a run and you had been on his mind the whole time. It certainly wasn’t helped by Angel and Gilly’s incessant teasing about you from the minute he showed up at the clubhouse before the run, theorising if you were actually real or not or if you were really as good as Coco said you were and trying to work out what you looked like.

“Coco?” He was brought out of his thoughts at the sound of your voice and he almost fell off his bike at the sight of you, all prettied up, dressed in your cute little bakery apron with a dress underneath. “Cariña, mi querida, fuck I missed you so much.” He blurted it all out at once as he steadied himself against his bike before gathering you up into his arms and pulling you close.

Every bit of tension from his run quickly seeped away and you felt him relax as you embraced him tightly, your fingers gently caressing his hair. The feeling of you against him brought him peace as he cradled you against his chest. Coco hummed softly with contentment, his shoulders relaxing, eyes closing as he felt you against him, feeling your soft breaths against his neck.

“I missed you too, Coco.” You replied, barely above a whisper. “What are you doing out here? I saw you arrive ages ago.” You asked, not ready to move away from the embrace yet. Coco sighed softly, his grip on you tightening as he glanced over your shoulder at the bakery, he hadn’t wanted to make you feel like he didn’t want to come and greet you, that certainly hadn’t been the intention. “Sorry, preciosa. I was waitin’ out here for Angel and EZ to come back. Would’a come to see you otherwise, y’know that righ’?” Coco spoke softly against your ear, hoping that you weren’t too disappointed that you hadn’t been his first stop in Santo Pandre.

“Yeah, I know.” You replied after a moment of silence, your words brushing gently against his neck, the feeling of your breath against his skin sent a fluttering warmth through Coco and he hummed in contentment. “You know I-”

“Yeah, I know you worry, corazon.” Coco interrupted.

“Yeah,” You paused, sighing against his ear as you squeezed him, the words you had meant to say were there, caught in your throat, playing on your heart. I love you. They had been for a few weeks now, but you weren’t sure either of you were ready to hear them and you were almost glad that Coco had inadvertently stopped you from saying them.

“Welcome home, Coco.” You said, finally pulling away, just enough to look into his eyes and for a moment, the usually stoic biker graced you with a sweet and genuine smile, a smile that touched so deep that it reached his eyes. A look was shared between you that seemed to make the words in your heart dance and flutter with excitement. He loved you too, you could see it in him, in his eyes, in his being, like an aura surrounding him.

“C’mere,” Coco whispered, hands gently tugging your body against his, fingers reaching up to your face, his thumb caressing softly over your cheek as he pulled you closer and leaning in, his lips millimeters from yours. Coco captured you in a sweet kiss, his lips moving against yours so carefully at first, tentative and loving. Slowly, you trailed your fingers over his kutte, pressing softly against the patches on his chest before you reached his shoulders, your hands meeting at the nape of his neck, your kiss deepening as Coco pulled you closer with his hands gripping your hips.

The sound of the butcher shop door opening caught Coco’s attention, but he didn’t pull away, he was too indulged in you to care about the presence of his brothers. “Holy shit, you are real.” Angel gasped, his voice breaking the pair of you apart and you quickly stepped away from Coco, barely able to look at Angel as you smoothed out your outfit, trying to cover up your embarrassment as much as possible. “Angel.” EZ groaned, smacking his brother’s arm as he shook his head, though he couldn’t hold back the smirk on his lips as he took in the sight of you and Coco.

“Of course she’s fuckin’ real, carnal.” Coco rolled his eyes at his friends, the pair of them wearing the most smug smirks Coco thought he’d ever seen. “Cariña, these are my friends, my brothers, EZ and Angel.” Coco introduced you. “Told you if we made ‘im wait long enough, this would happen.” Angel grinned at EZ, Coco shooting him a warning glare.

“Of fuckin’ course.” Coco muttered as he reached out for your hand and tugged you to his side. “It’s nice to meet you.” You spoke shyly to the two men, EZ being the first of the brothers to step forward and greet you with a gentle handshake, Angel pushing him aside to place a kiss on the back of your hand.

“Hey, why don’t you bring her to the family dinner at the clubhouse this weekend?” EZ suggested, clapping his hand against Coco’s shoulder and the biker glanced over at you, seeing the way your eyes met his in a curious, yet slightly nervous way and he smiled at you, hoping it soothed some of the worry.

“Yeah, maybe it’s time to introduce you.” Coco said after a short pause, his hand squeezing yours gently. “To the whole family.”

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