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#the last thing i would want to do is clutter your dash with stuff you don’t want on there

catboii · 5 months

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((just a "little" (ha) update I guess, nothing major, just a note that I'm sorry if I post alot this week with seemingly no regard for my/my muse's vast presence on the dash, or if I end up writing alot of short weird drabbles to vent.... if there's questionable stuff it'll be tagged like always <3

I understand if you need to unfollow me to keep your dash clear for other people if you're mobile etc. or if you need to blacklist my muse's url for a bit if it's overwhelming

After xmas everything may have settled and if you wanna refollow then I'd welcome you back and wouldn't ask any questions. your comfort (whatever that may classify as in the context) is my utmost priority!

normally I try not to clutter, and I try to keep general post reblogs minimal and just queue most of them. I'm just... not doing too good rn

then again it's a 50/50 that I'll be posting nothing at all, just making my muse's presence known if it wants to sorta wave at someone from the depths of my brain hell jail.

I'll still be checking in around xmas stuff bc this muse gives me v happy bubbly vibes whenever I write it and that's honestly what I need rn.

I'm sorry if your muse reblogs/replies to one of mine's posts or smth and I seemingly glance over it. I genuinely just didn't see it. I always try and respond to stuff, or if it doesn't know how to reply I at least acknowledge that my muse saw it by liking it. but I might not have the mental capacity to actually keep up w stuff

...

BASICALLY I'm either gonna be kinda quiet or rly hyperfixated on not being in my own head for the next week or so.

I'm obv stressed anyway bc I need to do xmas shopping still and it's a struggle bc online it probs won't come in time. we're going "late night shopping" on thursday though so hopefully we can get a bunch of stuff then

but mainly an old work friend of mine passed away today. He's been unwell for a few years, and I dunno if he knew what it was and was just keeping it quiet, or if they genuinely couldn't work it out. last I heard he was getting MRIs.

I had a complicated relationship w him (positive) bc he was either bipolar or had BPD like me (although he wasn't diagnosed with either, but it was obvious he at least had bipolar), and if you know anything abt BPD you know what an FP (favourite person) is, and we were sort of each other's when we were working together? I think. like I say he wasn't diagnosed, but it felt like that. we hit it off really quick and were both really comfortable with each other, and he was just the sweetest most supportive person. he was one of my FPs, which basically means my brain was cursed to be in intense friendlove with him. He would tell me that he loved me and appreciated my friendship, was always saying you need to tell people you love them, however you can, however you mean it, because you don't know if you'll ever get to tell them again

he always showed off the little things I made him and made sure everyone knew exactly where he got the silly little origami animals on his desk, or who made his juggling balls that were his favourite thing in the whole world bc I made them for him by hand, and picked the fabric out specifically for him.

One time around xmas, bc of covid, we had these big plastic screen dividers between our desks and I used posca paint pens to draw him a HUGE Robin in a scarf and santa hat (his name was Robin and people always got him little Robin themed things, he loved them) on the one by his manager desk, like a name tag, but Facilities told him he needed to clean it off and chastised him thinking he did it, and you're "not supposed to vandalise work equipment" even though they're literally washable and it was xmas. we were sticking decorations everywhere, how is it any different? but he played along but he was really mad. He didn;t wanna say it was me that did it, because he thought I might've gotten in trouble, but he also wanted to argue that I'd put alot of work into it. I hadn't put that much in, it was just for fun and I liked drawing it, and he got to see it! That was the important part. and I said so. but I cleaned it off and drew him a new Robin on a piece of paper and he kept it at his desk like a retired picket sign, and told the story to anyone who would be polite enough to listen

mostly though, he gendered me correctly (and he was in his 60s so being so passionate abt they/them pronouns was just really sweet, though he was clearly bi but still in the closet, so it was maybe a little projection, in a way, or just straight up quiet queer solidarity), and literally agressively made sure everyone else did too, when he realised I'd been just letting people at work use whatever pronouns, he got really proactive and made sure all my paperwork was marked as "them" officially (with my permission). if anyone misgenered me he would get visably annoyed or disgusted, and there were a couple people who "forgot" (every time) and he actually got angry at them about it and reported them for harassment, which might've been a little extreme, but I honestly felt so validated, and I'm tearing up thinking about it. I don't think anyone's ever fought that hard in my corner, especially after only knowing me for, at that point, less than a year.

We worked together in a couple different parts of the business for a couple years, until some stuff happened that I shouldn't say bc I need my rp blog(s) to stay far away from my professional life, but we were gonna be working together doing something else, but it wasn't his thing, it was stressful and there were other reasons, but he just lost it and walked out.

we had a little joke when we were training before he left, he had this soft toy robin that he let me borrow because I was really anxious, and I gave it a little notepad and pencil and wrote something silly on it for when he got it back each time. usually some out of context joke on what we learned that day, so we could both laugh about it. but when he left I still had it, and I messaged him saying I would get it back to him sometime, but he said to keep it to remind me of him.

I put it away to keep it safe, but I'm gonna have to go and find it, because it's one of the only physical things I have left of him.

#ooc post.#.vat file #rl illness ment-#rl death ment-#readmore.#I think I'm ok for now. I'm sorry about the stuff mentioned at the top but I'm not sorry this post is so long. for once.#you don't have to read it. but if you do? then hey. thanks. we're besties now.#I had a little rant about him and it's cathartic but I'm trying not to break down tbh #I think just expressing how much I loved him helps. he was just. so pure and wholesome in reality.#always showing how much he appreciated people...

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mac-aro-ni · 11 months

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Housekeeping Notes

Hello to the various new followers of this blog in the last few months!

I have noticed that some of you seem to be brand new tumblr accounts. I appreciate you following this blog so quickly after joining tumblr! It warms my heart that so many aromantic people are able to find this blog so quickly!

However, I have only realized this because of certain "common practices" on this site, and I'm worried that some of you might be getting blocked by other blogs you try to follow! If your blog is completely blank (no icon/profile picture, no title, no descriptions, no posts, and all the default settings like having your likes and follows publicly visible), you unfortunately look indistinguishable from a new spambot that hasn't started their second phase of operation yet. A lot of users on this site block accounts that are blank, out of an abundance of precaution for removing spambots from their blog so they don't get spam links in their replies/reblogs. Spambots start by following a massive number of accounts and existing in silence for a week or more, then suddenly start posting stolen pictures from the internet before moving on to posting content that breaks TOS and is full of links trying to scam anyone who clicks them. A blank blog is not a guarantee that in a few more days, you won't start spamming them.

Luckily, there's an easy fix! Simply pick out an image of any kind to act as your blog icon, change your title to anything a human would write ("I'm new!", "~lurking~", and "not a bot" are all perfectly acceptable options), and change your description (a lot of us do mini bios there, but you can also just have something like "I'm new to tumblr and figuring out what I want on my blog still" )! Another quick fix is to make one (1) single post that clarifies you're still adjusting to tumblr, and leaving it as your only post til you start reblogging stuff.

Don't be afraid to hit reblog! It's kinda like retweeting, or sharing on Facebook, or saving a pin to a board on Pinterest. You don't have to add anything to a reblog, but you have the option to add tags (which can be used to organize your blog into different topics like having different boards on Pinterest or albums on Instagram, or to just talk about the post in a way that requires more effort for someone else to include in their reblog from you) or to add text/images/links to the body of the post (that's how those long chain posts with many different blogs adding on their thoughts happen!).

Reblogging is the lifeblood of the site. Tumblr has added algorithmic options to the dashboard in recent years, but most of us prefer to use tumblr the old-fashioned way and only see posts from people we follow. Reblogging is how you get a post in front of your followers! It's how your followers get to know you! Have fun with it!

Liking is the bonus extra-love button, or for when a post is one you like but for whatever reason you don't want it on your blog(s). Reblogging is a better method of engagement, but liking isn't completely useless like a lot of people try to say. Tumblr has added a thing where, if your likes are public, your followers might occasionally see a post that you liked on their dashboard. Most of us keep our likes private, though, so many people aren't aware this is a thing now, and we like things specifically to engage but not show it off on our blogs, so we don't want our likes showing up on people's dashes. I tend to like a post when I would maybe spam multiple reblogs of it but don't want to reblog it several times in a row and clutter up my own blog, or when it's a discourse post I agree with but don't want to spread the discourse around. Artists will often mention things about reblogs being better than likes and it is for this simple reason: reblogging means you are putting it in front of more eyes, and thus helping the artist find buyers/commissions and build their brand. If you follow an artist and hit 'like' on everything they post, consider reblogging some of them so more people see their art and they can get even more attention for their wonderful talent/skill!

Some other things:

For anyone who hasn't checked this blog's homepage out, you may be unaware that this blog is not a main account. It's a group sideblog, one that I do not own. The owner hasn't logged in to tumblr in years, so there won't be any calls for additional moderators for the foreseeable future (as I am unable to add new members myself because of the permissions set by the owner). I am currently the only active mod for the account, so only my main is currently linked in the bio. You can follow me on that blog if you want to get to know me better! I post way more stuff there, just because it's not focused on a single topic like this blog is. (Because this is a sideblog I cannot DM from this account, either, so if you ever need to DM me for some reason you need to go to my main and DM me there.)

I try to answer asks I get here as quickly as possible, and the anonymous option is on! I do my best to reblog things from all across the spectrum of aromantic experiences, but I only have my own experience to base my judgement on, so if there's a particular flavor of aro content you'd like to see more of (posts for a specific identity, more art, more comics, whatever), just send an ask and let me know!

#mod meg #not aro positivity #admin stuff

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draconic-ichor · 3 years

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NSFW dabble

Warnings: strong language, sexual themes, oral sex, hand jobs, penetrative sex, fingering, cream pie

Heisenberg x Reader

This is part two of a previous Touch Starved Karl fic. I wrote this very late last night and did very little editing

Part 1

It had been a while since that first steamy encounter. Afterwards he was all bravado and toothy smiles, obviously knowing your attraction to him bolstering his ego to the moon. You were still shy, easy to get embarrassed by his heckling.

But now if he caught you, it was messy kisses and groping hands.

You were yet to have actual sex, nervousness coupled with his busy schedule. Heisenberg had taken the time to eat you out on several occasions, even lifting you up on one of his operating tables to do so once. He loved the sounds you made, loved that he was the one making you produce them.

Your own hands finding his cock and trying to learn what he liked. He enjoyed your back and forth, definitely not complaining about getting off. But his mind was ate up with the need to stuff you, it started impeding his work, even.

That day you were in his workshop, organizing papers over a desk while he worked. Or while he was supposed to be working. Instead he was starting at your ass, his pants tightening as you bent over the desk to get more papers.

You didn’t hear him stand, or as he closed the distance between you.

“Y/n…” his voice was low causing you to jump.

You dropped the stack of papers, hissing, “Heisenberg don’t do tha-“

The words were cut short in your throat as he pressed against your back, trapping you between the desk and himself. You suddenly felt his erection press hard against your ass.

“Heis…” you breathed out as his hands snaked around your body to cup your breasts.

“I told you to call me Karl.” He growled softly into your ear before nipping at your neck.

A moan escaped your lips as his teeth found your sweet spot, “Ah-ah, Karl!”

He hummed into your skin at the sound of his name from your pretty mouth, bathing the mark he left with his tongue.

Your face felt hot, your core moistening from his attention. He felt how you started to tremble, drifting a hand down your front.

He pushed you more forward, grinding himself on your ass with a groan.

“Goddamnit y/n…” Heisenberg started, “You’re such a distraction.”

“I w-was trying to help.” You mewled.

“I know.” His voice was almost a purr as he ran his hands down your sides, “You’re always such a good little kitten for me.”

The praise made your thighs clench, forcing you to swallow the sound that threatened. Heisenberg thought for a moment, pulling you up to be flush against him, one of his large gloved hands engulfing your throat.

You looked at him over the top of your head, gasping a bit from his hold on you.

“I need to get this shit done.” His voice was low, “So be a good girl and go wait in my room for me?”

You tried to nod the best this position would allow, causing a smile to spread across the man’s lips. Your obedience was definitely doing terribly wonderful things to his mind. He released you, stepping back to allow your escape. You took a breath to steady yourself before dashing out of the workshop. He watched you with ever sharp eyes.

It felt like hours since you were instructed to wait for him. His room was much more cluttered then your own, the bed smelling heavily of smoke and musk. You had removed your pants and bra, only in your shirt and panties now as you lay on your belly across his bed. You buried your face into one of his pillows, his scent driving your already sensitive body wild.

You cursed him for getting you all worked up earlier, just to send you away.

The sound of the door startled you, lifting your head to see Heisenberg striding in. He looked hungry and determined as he took large steps towards the bed, with every step he shucked a layer of clothing from his body, pausing to kick away his boots. By the time he was at the bed he was only in his gloves, tank top and boxers.

You rolled over to watch him. His eyes were almost glowing as he pulled his gloves free, tossing them aside before diving into the bed.

You made a little sound when he pounced on you, his mouth swallowing them up as he locked you into a heavy kiss. Your hands found his hair as it deepened further.

You both were a jumble or hands and legs, your mind swimming from the contact. Your core almost ached from the lack of stimulation, your nerves wearing thin.

“Please just fuck me!” You whimpered out. Your previous fears forgotten, mind too ate up with lust.

“The mouse is making demands?” Heisenberg chuckled huskily.

You tried to speak, say something smart, but he nipped at your throat, huffing as he rutted your clothed sexes together. He was like a Lycan, messy and hot. He pulled his mouth away, leaving a string of saliva.

Your mind was a mess, tangle wires fried by his heavy teasing. He felt you trembling under him, plush thighs tightening around his hips and driving him mad.

Fuck he wasn’t going to be able to be gentle, not at this rate.

Every nerve screamed for him to breed you into the mattress. And with you begging under him…

You gasped as he tore through the rest of your clothes, the cool air not getting a chance to find your skin. He was a wildfire over you, hungry hands finding your dripping core. Two fingers dipped into your honeypot, setting a fast pace.

Your mewls spurred him, his movements giving some relief to your aching core.

He licked his lips, cock jumping at the squelching sounds his fingers made in your cunt.

You met his eyes, his dark and blown out. You panted out, clenching around his fingers as you felt your release coming. Your cry turned into a whine as he pulled free of you, licking his finger clean of your slick.

“Mmm, fuck!” He smiled roguishly, “You taste so fucking good y/n.”

You could feel the blush burning your cheeks.

It caused him to chuckle again as he pulled away enough to strip the rest of his clothing off, “Aw, don’t get all shy on me now buttercup. We’re just getting started!”

With that he lifted your legs to hook around his hips. You fell into place almost instinctively, the want to come driving the anxiety from your body.

Heisenberg rolled his hips shallowly, his weeping cock head rubbing your clit. A moan slid past your lips, causing your own hips to buck a bit. He grabbed your thighs, keeping you still as he pushed forward. His cock slid into you, causing your walls to burn as they tried to accommodate.

It took all his willpower to halt, giving you time to adjust. His hands moved to prop himself over you, breathes ragged as his eyes flicked over you intently.

Tears threatened your eyes at the intrusion, the thickness of him teetering on pain.

“Relax.” He whispered, cupping your cheek with one hand. You felt his calloused thumb wipe away a tear. You nuzzled into his touch, taking a deep breath to calm yourself.

Feeling your walls ease slightly he gave a testing thrust. Hearing you mewl he paused, worriedly.

“N-no keep going.” You managed.

He didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled back until just the head was left in your fold before rocking back into the hilt, fucking you completely open.

The burning sensation gave way to pleasure, the veins of his cock rubbed deliciously against your soaked walls. You panted in-between cries, it spurring him to thrust into you faster.

He’d been waiting for this, fantasizing how’d you feel around him as he used his fist on himself for weeks.

Now he had you, begging and crying under him. Fuck it was amazing. Everything he’d hoped for and more. Your cute sounds filling his ears as he stuffed you.

“Fuck, y/n!” He hissed, moving your legs to his shoulders, “You’re so tight.”

The new position allowed him to hit deeper, bottoming out with each thrust. Your body shuttered, the tight band in your core snapping.

You screamed out your release, cunt gushing onto Heisenberg as his name tumble off your tongue.

He watched you fall apart, keeping up his onslaught. It wouldn’t be long now until he also succumbed to the pleasure, he knew it.

He bent down, nipping and licking your neck as you trembled and mewled under him. You felt his body rutting against yours, chasing his high, fingers holding you hard enough to bruise.

The sound of the factory was drowned out by the wet slapping of your hips.

“You’re mine.” He growled, voice hot against your ear, “You’re all mine, y/n.”

He licked the shell of your ear, thrusts meeting your hips roughly, each one gaining strength as he neared his end.

“Say it.” He demanded, not letting up.

You tried to formulate the words but your mind was garbled. He didn’t take the silence well.

“Tell me your mine!” He growled savagely, bucking into you now like a beast.

“I’m y-yours!” You cried out, digging your nails into his back as your walls clenched down on him. Your body was a fever of pleasure, vision whiting out as your second orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave.

He was done for, feeling your body tighten around him was too much. He pushed forward, wanting to plant as much as he could fit inside you.

You whimpered as you felt a rush of liquid heat, his cock painting your swollen walls. He gave a few shallow thrusts, riding out his own orgasm.

Feeling your core milk him made him shutter, the overwhelming sensation of spilling inside you blanking his mind for a moment.

Come oozed around his still inserted cock as you both tried to calm your breathing.

“…Fuck.” He cursed, pulling away enough to catch your lips in a messy kiss. You hummed into the contact, body tingling all over.

You held onto him, not wanting this feeling to end.

#resident evil village #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader smut #house heisenberg #heisenberg x reader #heisenberg smut #resident evil #smut dabbles

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preciousthingsareprecious · 3 years

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Whumptober Day 1: Bound

It's October so of course I'm writing again! We'll see how far I get through Whumptober this year lol.

Day 1: “You have to let go” | barbed wire | bound

Characters: Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne

Summary: When Damian becomes the latest victim in a string of kidnappings across Gotham, it's down to Dick to save him and the rest of the missing kids. He just has to get there in time.

AO3 Link

The sound of Dick’s boots echoed in the empty hall even as his heart pounded in his chest and his comm buzzed white noise into his ear. Dim lights flickered around him, only just illuminating his path through the old abandoned hotel. But he had to keep moving, had to find the missing kids. Had to find Damian .

He pushed himself a little faster through the hall, pausing only whenever he came to a door to throw it open, then on finding it empty, start his mad dash again. They had to be here, everything pointed to this location.

Batman and Robin had been investigating a series of kidnappings over the past month. Dick had done his best to keep Damian away from the information but the kid was about as stubborn as Bruce had been when he decided on something, so Dick had let him in with the promise they did everything together.

And he’d kept that promise. He’d done so well, and then it had been Dick who’d lost him.

“Stupid.” Dick grumbled, peering into yet another empty room. Every room was empty on this floor, but there were still the ballrooms at the top to check.

He’d been so stupid, taking Damian out to do some shopping then turning away for a moment. A second had been all the kidnapper needed to grab another kid. Another victim. And it was Dick’s fault. For looking away when there was a person out there grabbing kids Damian’s age.

Alfred’s consoling voice from earlier flooded through his thoughts as he took the stairs down two at a time, ‘It is not your fault, you were simply trying to have a good day amidst all this terribleness.’ And what good had it done either of them? Panic in Dick’s chest, and a missing brother.

The only thing that kept him moving was that none of the kids had been found yet. No ransoms had been sent out either, but no bodies meant they had to be somewhere. And Dick was going to find them.

He’d tracked the kidnapper here via an unusual series of shipments of food and chemicals sent to a Dr. Keith Raimy. An ex-professor from Gotham U who’d been kicked out for multiple breaches of student privacy and theft of university property. He'd recently had a paper rejected. It's title? Fear and Trauma: Can We Make Our Kids Strong Enough for the Future, Through Fear Today? Dick had skimmed the paper, and what had been proposed inside had made him sick to his stomach.

The door to the first ball room he tried on the top floor was locked. Muffled, and just through the door, Dick could hear screams. In a fit of rage, and fueled by the panic Dick was only just keeping in check, he kicked it down. The old rotting hinges gave way and the thing toppled backward with a heavy thump.

Silence filled the room for a moment, giving Dick a breath to take it in. Mostly empty, it had rotting carpet and peeling wallpaper. A tattered chandelier hung from the ceiling, pieces held on by a few dangling wires, but mostly disassembled either from time or theft.

Huddled in a group in one corner of an old ballroom, were children. The children Dick had been searching for. From what he could see, they were bound with some sort of rope, and looked rough, but alive and breathing.

At the far back of the room there was a stage, or what had once been used as a stage. Now it was mostly just a raised platform with tall floodlights dragged up to it, a rumbling generator the source of their power. It was cluttered with other equipment too, tables filled with jars and beakers, boxes opened with bits poking out of the top, and a laptop hooked up to a microscope. Standing among the clutter was Dr. Raimy in a stained lab coat just blocking a table.

He had turned to stare at Dick when the door came crashing down. Now, he moved to raise his arm, mouth opening, and in the next breath the moment of silence was broken as the screaming started again. The doctor tensed, shifting a bit to cover the table, but it wouldn’t help.

Clear now, the voice was unmistakably Damian’s, high and terrified in a way Dick had never heard it before and it was coming from behind the doctor.

Dick bolted forward, slipping batagrangs out of his belt. Damian was his only thought. His boy was up there, terrified and suffering all because of the man in front of him.

Dr. Raimy jumped to the side, attempting to make a run for it, and stumbled into another table. It gave Dick long enough to cover most of the distance between them and fling a few batarangs in the man’s direction. One caught his jacket, and the other stabbed into junk on the table making him yelp. He jerked back, and then turned towards the table he’d been guarding, making a second dart for it, and the figure writhing atop it. Red clouded Dick’s vision as he got his first clear view of his little brother, strapped down to the table with a long strand of barbed wire, and straining against it as he yelled.

Dick roared, and leapt up to the platform, grabbing the doctor as he did so. The man released an aborted shout as Dick flung him back and away from the table into a pile of boxes. He turned for a moment to Damian, catching sight of his brother’s pupils blown wide. He hadn’t even registered the action beside him, trapped in whatever horrorscape he’d been dropped into.

The sound of rustling indicated that Raimy was already pushing himself up, babbling something about science and progress and Batman not understanding.

He stalked forward, raising himself up to as imposing a height as possible and kicked at the doctor, knocking him back into the boxes to stun him. Then, he reached down and dragged the man upwards.

“What did you give him?” he demanded.

“It was--a mixture of my own making.”

Dick shook him so hard that he heard something pop, “Did you make an antidote?”

Behind him, Damian’s screaming changed pitch to something even more desperate.

“ Tell me .” he growled.

“T-there, it’s--it’s in the line of blue vials. Please don’t kill me, I was only trying-”

Dick didn’t give the man the time to finish his sentence, he punched him square in the face, and dropped him unconscious back into the boxes. Then he was over at the vials, thankfully a syringe had already been filled or he’d have to waste time figuring out how much to give Damian. He pocketed it, swapping it out in his hand for a pair of wire clippers and rushed back to the table.

“Damian, I don’t know if you can hear me, but it’s alright.” Dick said, voice gentle, “I’m getting you out of here.”

Something must have gotten through to him, because Damian stilled at his words, staring with wide, terrified eyes up at Dick. Dick tried not to look at the red lines of blood on Damian’s arms and chest he worked on clipping the barbed wire, instead murmuring quietly to Damian to keep him calm.

Thankfully, the man hadn’t totally wrapped Damian in the stuff. The single band was thick and strong enough to keep a drugged kid down, but hopefully hadn’t done too much damage. Still, it made Dick’s stomach churn as he lifted it as gently as he could off his brother, Damian making only the tiniest of sobs as each barb still embedded in his skin pulled out.

“Just one more second, sweetheart.” Dick whispered, hoping his voice wasn’t carrying over to the other kids. There was murmuring coming from them by now, as they realized rescue was at hand, but Dick’s focus was on the kid currently in need of the most help. At last, Dick dropped the discarded wire onto the table and leaned back to find the vial of the antidote.

Something about the sound of the wire, or a movement Dick made, or just whatever concoction the doctor had given him triggered something in Damian the moment Dick leaned away. He shot up from where he’d been lying, and grabbed the wire with both hands, heedless of any damage it was causing.

Dick reached for him, ready to pull the barbed wire away from him but Damian scooted back, precariously close to the edge of the table and yelled, “No! Don’t!”

“Hey, it’s alright, why don’t you give me that?” Dick asked, trying to calm him back down.

“Stop!” Damian yelled again, gripping the wire tighter and pressing it to his chest, “Don’t take him!”

“Damian please, you have to let go. It’s hurting you.” Dick tried again, wincing as red started to drip down the wire.

“No! I won’t let you!”

“Okay, okay.” Dick held up both hands, whatever Damian was seeing must have been convincing and he didn’t want to hurt the kid by forcing the barbed wire out of his hands, he’d only tear them up more that way.

“Would you let me give you something?” Dick asked, gently lowering his arms to retrieve the syringe, “It’ll make you feel better.”

Damian eyed him, the look almost like what he’d normally make when suspicious, but just off enough from the drugs, “Yes?” he said.

“Great. I just need your arm, you don’t have to let go of anything or anyone okay?” Dick said, slowly reaching for Damian’s arm with his free hand. When the boy let him place his hands by his elbow, Dick angled it up, then after a moment, praying he hadn’t been lied to, injected his brother with the liquid in one motion.

Damian jerked back, squeezing the wire closer to him and went tumbling from the table. Dick lunged over it, and just managed to hook an arm around the kid, tugging him up. He heard the clatter of glass falling and hitting the ground as the syringe that had still been stuck in Damian’s arm slipped out and shattered.

“No! No! Stop!” Damian wailed, kicking and jerking in Dick’s hold.

Mindful that if he tugged Damian into his chest the barbed wire would do more harm, Dick decided he'd restrain him by pulling his back towards him. That was easier said than done with a flailing kid. At last, Dick had an arm hooked under Damian’s arms and had him held tight against him, seated again on the table. His brother continued to scream and kick and tug at him for another minute, then two, until gradually Damian’s own chest slowed it’s rapid rise and fall and his cries quieted down to nothing.

“Batman?” His voice was tiny, shattered from screaming, but almost lucid.

Dick dropped his face into Damian’s hair and sighed, “Yeah, I’ve got you.”

He let go of Damian and stepped around to face his front. There, he pointed at the tangled barbed wire still in Damian’s hands, “Will you hand me that?”

Damian looked down surprised to see it, “Oh.”

Wincing he released it, and before anything else could happen, Dick balled it up and tossed it away from them. When he turned back to Damian, the kid was staring down at his palms that were red and torn. He hadn’t said anything else, but Dick could hear the tight way he was breathing, the sound almost like whistles, like he was holding back the pain.

He dug out some gauze, wraps, and something to numb the pain, “Here, let me.”

With gentle motions Dick bandaged Damian’s hands. When he was done, he dropped a kiss onto the knuckles of each one, “Wait for me right here? I have to help the others.”

Damian’s eyes went wide, “The kids--”

“Are mostly fine.” Dick said, sparing them another glance, they’d been remarkably patient, but their chatter had gone up from quiet murmurs to full conversations, “But eager to be untied I’m sure.”

His brother nodded. Even though it tore at Dick’s heart to step away, he did. And he took as much time with each of them as they needed. Batman couldn’t focus only on one child after all, especially when others showed signs of having gone through something similar to Damian. Gradually though, Dick got them all settled down, untied, and called Oracle to let her know to send police and paramedics. Then he swung by Damian to scoop him up into his arms --the kid for once not arguing being carried-- and corralled everyone downstairs.

Dick could see the lights of the emergency vehicles through the windows, and sent the children out before him, lingering back in the building with Damian. The last thing he wanted to do was let go of his brother, even if it was to hand him off to medical professionals. He’d just gotten him back, and the mere thought of having him out of his sight for a second felt impossible to manage. All he could think of were the number of --mostly implausible-- ways Damian could end up hurt or in danger again.

He was starting to see why Bruce had been so protective of his Robins.

"Batman?" Damian's voice was very quiet in the dim lighting.

"Yes?"

Damian shifted so his face was pressed a little closer to Dick's neck, "I'm sorry. I got caught."

"No, you have nothing to be sorry for. I'm sorry I let you get taken."

"I-" Damian sighed, "Thank you for coming."

Dick tugged him a little closer, mindful that he still had injuries that needed to be cared for, "Always. Now, what do you say we sneak out and let Alfred finish patching you up? The police are used to Batman disappearing, and I found you before I ever reported you missing."

Damian, hummed, “I would like that, I want to go home.”

Dick pressed a kiss into Damian’s hair, “Then straight home we go.”

#Damian Wayne #Dick Grayson #whumptober2021 #day 1 #bound #barbed wire #you have to let go #injury #blood #hurt/comfort #angst #whump #happy ending #precious posts #no editing we die like robins

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narrators-journal · 3 years

Text

To kill a mockingbird

This is the first part of a Gogol fic I’m uploading here to flesh out my bsd masterlist and to feed you all. Don’t worry though! I will also work on hunter x hunter stuff while I do this story, not to worry! Just sit back and enjoy this very sketchy, dark, self-indulgent, pure fantasy! Please note this is PURE FANTASY.

Warning: here

CW: Reader-Chan gets kidnapped, dubcon kissing, this fic really turns up the bad things.

It had been a while since you'd passed out that hard after such a lazy night. You don't remember doing much, only making yourself a drink and turning on (favorite show) to burn your Saturday night away at home. Whether you'd go out or stay in was usually a 50/50 split, sometimes friends would ask you out to hang out or party, sometimes your weekends were spent spelunking social media or watching TV. However, this time, you'd gotten super tired only an episode and a half into your night of binging.

When you awoke, it took you a moment to realize something was majorly wrong. To start, it was oddly cold. Sure, your home could get drafty, but never as cold as you were now. Next, you noticed that you were laying on a bed of satin pillows, or maybe one big pillow? It wasn't clear through the cloud of grogginess when you first woke up, but when that sleepy haze lifted you confirmed that yes, it was one big pillow, some sort of cushion beneath you. However, that wasn't the first thing you noticed. The first thing you noticed was that you were in a massive metal bird cage.

It was big enough for you to stretch out on the cushion with about half of your body length to spare room-wise, it was also tall enough for you to stand and still be unable to reach the dull lamp hanging above you, even if you stood on your tippy-toes, but you also couldn't see a way out. To say you were terrified would be an understatement. When your (e/c) eyes finally focused enough to let you see into the darkness surrounding your prison, you noticed you were not only in a big bird cage, but suspended in the air in some concrete-floored basement as well. It wasn't a super cluttered space, from what you could see, some boxes, a big bed on the opposite side of the room, and some other furniture denoting that someone must've been setting the place up to be a sort of bedroom, even some rugs or something to keep the basement floor from being too cold, which you couldn't decide made the place creepier or not. This situation was getting weirder and weirder by the second, but you had no time to feed the bubbling stew of panic in your throat and break down, you had to try and think, to find a way out.

Sadly for you, there was no door save for a thin bird-cage-like one just big enough to let a tray of food or something in, other than that, no feasible way to get in or out. Even the little clamps meant to hold the bottom and bars together were welded down, so you couldn't pry them up to get the bottom to fall out. That brought out a new layer of emotions, confusion. If there were no doors and the bottom was welded on, how did you get in? Was this a bad dream? However, before you could try to calculate how long you could've slept, if you'd be able to sleep through the sounds of welding, anything like that, you heard someone open a door, letting a slice of light trickle into the quiet basement before a silhouette was cast and a man came down the wooden stairs. The man was tall, you'd gauge him to be at least 6 feet tall, with long snow-colored hair that he kept pulled back in a braid. He also wore either a long coat or some sort of cloak/cape thing, striped pants, and a sort of jester's collar or something, you didn't know exactly what the frilly thing at his neck was. Together with his mismatched gold and silver eyes, he was quite attractive. With a charming smile and a very handsome face, you were pretty damned sure he could've been some sort of model, you inwardly hoped that maybe some sort of playboy, or whatever the female equivalent is, model, but for now you made sure to stay on your guard. "dobroye utro golubka'~" he hummed, his deep voice sing-song and jovial, as if he was used to bringing food down to women kept in suspended bird cages. After a moment, you tentatively tried to talk to him, "Um...e-excuse me, do you know English?" You asked, letting that edge of pitiful hopefulness drip into your words to maybe get some pity or something from him, and the smile he gave you infused you with hope, "Yes! I do speak english, not to worry golubka!" he chirped, his voice having a rather heavy Russian accent, as he opened the short-but-wide door to your cage and slid the food he'd brought in, shutting the little door back and locking it with a padlock as he spoke, leaving you with a tray of food and still no way out. "Great! C-can you get me out of here? Do you know how I can get out?" you asked, grabbing onto the bars and feeling your stomach flutter with hope and joy before it crashed right back down when he spoke next. "Of course not," he scoffed, "I went through all of that work to set it up for you and get you in there, I can't let you out so simply." You really did not expect that alluring voice to turn so sour so swiftly. "What?! WHY?!" that made him laugh, reaching into your cage and snatching your hand before you could yank away out of his reach, using that to pull you forward so he could stroke your cheek with his free gloved hand, "Oh sweet, sweet golubka, because I want you of course." he hummed, and you could see the light of madness in his mismatched eyes while he stroked your (s/c) cheek "I want you to be my lovely little domokhozyayka!" he said, finally letting you pull away after a brief moment of seemingly admiring the loss of hope in your wide (e/c) eyes.

You pushed away from the bars, holding onto the hand he'd kept captive protectively close to your chest while your cheeks turned a relatively dark pink against your paler cheeks. "W-what does that mean?" you asked after some hesitation, continuing to give him dirty looks while he reached in to try and touch you again, something you didn't allow. It took a moment, but with a huff, he replied, "Domokhozyaka means house wife, golubka means dove...now let me touch you," he ordered, moving around the cage to a side where he could try to reach you easier, obviously getting cranky when you moved away again. "Let me out first," you ordered, continuously moving or trying to find the perfect middle so he couldn't reach you as you spoke with a semi-forced confidence. The man shot you a dirty look, finally pausing to stand back in front of you, his arms looped around the bars in front of him, "I'll let you out when you earn it. Not until then. The only way to earn freedoms? Behave, simple as that." he said as if you were supposed to know that rule. "Now, I'll give you an easy command to ease you into this new set up, alright? Just, give me a kiss." he hummed, that charming grin returning as he watched you like a panther observing his prey. You inwardly had to admit, kissing him wouldn't be a struggle, he was pretty, but he was also your captor, so you didn't want to be that easy to read. "I-I can't. Kissing through these bars would be d-difficult and uncomfortable." you argued, mentally chiding yourself for the flustered stutter, but your argument didn't last too long either way, "No problem! I can just do this!" he chirped, and with a flurry of movement, vanished and suddenly appeared in your cage, making it sway slightly when he landed. The sudden shift made you shriek and scramble back until you felt the cold metal bars digging into your back. The tall man grinned at you, going down to his knees so he was less imposing and closer to your face, not to mention somewhat caging you in with his arms, "Now, be a good golubka and kiss me," he ordered, and before you could try to escape he closed the gap between the two of you, pressing his lips against yours and swallowing the squeak you let out. The kiss was rough, he put a hand behind your head so you both couldn't pull away and weren't forced against the cold bar, but that did little to help the icy fear warring in your veins with a dark dash of lust while the man pushed his tongue into your mouth, gripping your (h/l), (h/c) hair in a silent threat so you wouldn't bite, and held it for a long moment before pulling away for air. He grinned at the dark red blush painting your (s/c) cheeks afterwards. That sort of kiss wasn't new to you, you weren't a stranger to the more dangerous sides of exploration, and it wasn't like you disliked the force he put into it, but him grinning like that hit you with a bit of shame. You were kidnapped, you shouldn't be aroused. Curse your darker kinks. However, self-scolding and maybe some shame would have to wait, you still had to stay on edge in case your captor decided he didn't want just a kiss. You were into some messed up things, but you doubted if he really pushed he'd set up any sort of safe word. Luckily though, all he did after that was pet your hair and continue to grin, "Good girl~ Now, eat your food, I'll be back for the tray in about an hour," he said, and with another flurry of movement he was back outside the cage and left, leaving you back in the darkness with only your dim light above you and your conflicted emotions.

#Yandere gogol #bsd #bungo stray dogs #Nikolai gogol #yandere #fanfiction #quotev #dark #sing sweet nightgale

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snothing · 3 years

Note

Request: Drabble in which Jake looks through some old stuff and finds a rather odd yet captivating item: a red tunic with a green scaly leotard, a black-yellow on its right side, a black domino mask, green gloves and finally green pixie boots. he decides to try the suit on

I want to apologize for how long this took! I’ve been so busy with school, and I made this way longer and convoluted than necessary. It’s definitely not a drabble anymore, and I added a lot of sibling banter, lol, I can’t resist. This was so much fun to make, I had so many ideas. Thank you so much for being patient, and I hope you enjoy!

I decided to deviate from my universe, while keeping some old things. Mar’i and Jake are still twins, and Mar’i can turn invisible.

"Go away, Jaki! This is my hiding spot!" Mar'i whispered-hissed at her brother. She glared at him through a jungle of coats and umbrellas in the armoire, her mouth in a tight frown.

"Oh, come on, Mar'i!" Jake cried. With a flair for the dramatic, he threw his hands up in the air. Of course, his annoying sister would take his favorite, top-secret hiding spot!

"Shhh!" she snapped, finger to her lips. Pink eyes flashed brightly at him. "Would you be quiet? Do you want Dad to find us?"

He pursed his lips and looked down the hall. Pretty soon, his dad would be done counting and be searching for them. Still, a great wrong had been committed in the eyes of Jake. "You took my hiding spot! Get out!" he seethed, just a decibel lower.

"Nuh-uh, it's not your hiding spot!" Mar'i shot back. "You don't own it!"

Jake smirked cockily and pointed a finger past her. "Uh, yeah, Mar'i, I do."

A deep, unamused frown settled on Mar'i's face as she noticed— in bright cerulean blue crayon— the word "Jake" hastily scribbled on the panel. "That means nothing! You don't own everything you put your name on."

He silently raged. "How am I not surprised a heathen like you-"

"-Heathen?! I watched you squirt an entire can of Easy Cheese in your mouth!"

"That was a long time ago. I’m a different man now."

"It was last week!"

"As I said, a long time ago," he retorted drolly. "Anyway, as I was saying— only heathens don't respect the sacred rules of hide-and-seek!"

"You're so ridiculous," she sighed, exhausted. "You act like I broke the law."

"Well, you might as well have. I'm hurt, Mar'i, really I am. I never thought you'd betray me like this. My own flesh and blood— my wombmate--"

"Ew, don't call me that!"

He clasped his hands together. "I think the only way to solve this and mend our broken relationship is for you to leave and find a new hiding spot."

Mar'i stared blankly at him. Jake was her favorite person in the entire universe, but there were times where she wanted to slap him. "I'm not leaving, Jaki."

"By the love of X'hal, you can turn invisible!" he argued.

"So? Dad's using heat-sensing goggles this time."

"Mar'i!"

"Hey, babe," their father's voice filtered in from downstairs. They stilled, eyes wide and locked on each other.

"Hello, my love. Are you looking for something?" they heard their mother ask him.

"Oh you know, just for two half-human, half-alien eight-year-olds? Have you seen them? They're like yay-high, black hair with orange skin? Got glowing green eyes?"

"Oh," Kory chuckled. "I think I know the two. Say, are they dangerous?"

"Very. The little rascals will eat all your cereal and blame it on an innocent larva."

"My, they sound like quite the dastardly duo," she mused. "I believe I saw them go upstairs. Please, proceed with caution."

Dick let out a laugh. "Don't worry, babe. I think I'm well-equipped to handle them; Batman raised me after all."

Mar'i snapped back her attention to Jake, panicked. "Go away, Jaki!" she nearly growled.

"But-" he tried to argue, but her hand shot out and closed the armoire door, effectively ending their discussion.

Frantic, Jake looked around for a new hiding spot. Under his bed? No, there was a monster. Behind the house plants? Nope, too obvious. In the air vent? Nah, he'd get stuck again. Finally, his eyes found the inconspicuous attic door.

He was like 90% sure it was haunted. Uncle Jay showed him and Mar'i a horror movie once, and he learned that attics were prime real estate for ghosts and couldn't be trusted.

But...

It would probably be a great hiding spot. His dad wouldn't expect it.

The creaking of the stairs interrupted his thoughts and effectively ended his inner turmoil. He dashed to the attic door and braved the darkroom.

"Oh wow," he said, looking around. The room was cramped, littered with boxes and other knickknacks. Moonlight filtered in through the port window. "Okay, ghosts, listen. I don't mean to trespass or anything. I just need a place to hide from my dad, alright? So no possessing me, okay? I'll only be here for a couple of minutes."

Slowly, he made his way through the clutter, hoping to find a nice nook to squeeze in. A thick layer of dust coated everything in the room, and it was not long before he started hacking. It was then that his left foot hit a meddlesome snag in the carpet, causing him to plummet down on a pile of boxes.

He let out a rather undignified squeak when his knee slammed into the ground. A flurry of Tamaranean curse words left his mouth; thank heavens, his mom was not around to hear him. "Stupid ghosts!" Jake spat. The crash was loud. His dad knew where he was now. "And stupid Mar'i for making me hide in this stupid, haunted attic!"

He went to glare at the confounding boxes, but he halted when he saw something interesting. His ire vanished, his head cocked slightly. He pulled himself up from the ground and went to analyze the contents of the fallen box closer, his hand alit with a low-energy starbolt.

Inside the unsuspecting box was a brightly colored uniform. Jake's eyes widened the size of saucers. Could this be? There was no way. But sure enough, he found the iconic scaly leotard and black domino mask. Yep, this was his father's old Robin uniform.

He stared at the red tunic with the utmost reverence; his thumb traced the R. Jake was so absorbed in the costume he failed to notice his sister hovering over him.

"Whatcha got there, Jaki?" she asked curiously, face inches from his.

He let out a squeal and jumped several feet in the air. He snarled, eyes ablaze in a blue fury. "Mar'i! Don't do that!"

She snickered, an eyebrow raised. "It's not my fault you're not observant."

"I was in stealth mode," he said defensively. He crossed his arms. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be hiding in my hiding spot?"

She shrugged. "Dad found me pretty quick, so I decided to come to bother you."

Jake was surprised. "Wait, do you mean he didn't hear me fall?"

"Nah, I told him you were being a cheater and hiding outside. Thankfully, you decided to be a klutz after he left," she informed him. She frowned when she noticed the betrayed look on his face. "What? I thought you'd be happy I saved you!"

"I think it's funny you pick and choose when to be a loyal sister."

She smiled. "Gotta keep you on your toes, Jaki. Now, what's that?"

Jake followed her pointed look at the costume. He showed her excitedly. "I think it's Dad's old Robin costume!"

Green eyes rounded. "What? No way!"

"Yes, way!" he dazzled. "Look at the insignia!"

"Whoa," she breathed. She fingered the black-yellow cape gingerly. Her head snapped up. "Come on, put it on!"

"W-what?" He gave her a bemused look.

"I know you want to," she said wryly. She held up the tunic and pushed it towards her brother. "I bet you'd look just like dad."

"Yeah, but..." he trailed off. Honestly, he did not need much convincing. Jake had seen pictures of his dad in his early crimefighting days, but a thought stopped him. "I don't know, Mar'i..."

"Why not?"

"Well, Damian's Robin."

"And?"

"And I don't want to-- I don't know. I guess I don't want to send the wrong message," Jake answered. He sighed somberly. "Besides, it's not like I could ever be Robin anyway. I'm weird."

"What the heck?" Mar'i spluttered. "You think you can't be Robin because you have powers?"

"Robins don't have powers, Mar'i," he said, dejected. "They don't fly or shoot starbolts."

She snorted. She scooted closer to her twin, looking at him intently. "And? Anyone with a brave heart can be Robin, and as I can see, you have one."

"But-"

"No buts, Jaki," she cut him off. Mar'i was not going to allow her brother to put himself down. "I like you just the way you are. I think shooting starbolts and flying is super neat!"

"You're biased," he chuckled. Mar'i's words instantly made him feel better, though.

Her mouth blossomed into a silly grin. "Well, yeah, duh. I know if I'm awesome, you have to be. Now, put it on!"

"Okay, but turn around. I need privacy!"

"Yay!" she piped before spinning around. Her arms and legs tingled with excitement.

"Okay, I think I'm ready now," he told her, a bit apprehensive.

Mar'i whipped around, nearly knocking Jake down in the process. She almost burst out in awe when she saw him there, proudly donning their father's uniform. "Wow, Jaki! It looks so good on you!"

He flushed. His eyes, now concealed by a domino mask, peeked down at his body. It had been a bit awkward in some places; Jake did not care for his legs being so exposed, but otherwise, it fit like a glove. "Really?" he asked, swooshing his cape back and forth.

Her head bobbed up and down. "You look just like Dad when he was young!"

"What do you mean by that, Mar'i? I'm still young!"

Jake and Mar'i were startled by the voice. They spun around in the direction of the attic door and spotted their dad: the first-ever Boy Wonder and best pancake-maker-this-side-of-the-galaxy-- Dick Grayson.

"Dad!" the siblings exclaimed in perfect unison.

Dick chuckled. "And what are you two glowsticks doing in the attic? I thought we were playing hide and-"

He stopped mid-sentence when he noticed Jake. His eyes widened as they absorbed, his mouth agape.

Jake panicked, and shame surged through him. "I'm sorry, Dad!" he said hastily. "I-I was just hiding upstairs a-and I fell a-and I found your old costume!"

"Jake-"

"A-and I knew I shouldn't have, b-but Mar'i said I should-"

Jake paused when he felt his father's hand on his shoulders. He looked up and met his father's loving gaze. "Jake, calm down," Dick comforted. "It's okay."

Jake swallowed. "You're not mad?"

"No, of course not, son," he responded, genuine.

"Doesn't he look cool, Dad?" Mar'i piped up, a goofy grin on her face.

Dick smiled tenderly and moved his hand to caress Jake's face. He could not have predicted what seeing his son wear his old Robin uniform would do to him. His heart soared with love and pride.

"Yes, Mar'i, he looks pretty cool," he agreed.

Jake beamed and matched his sister's goofy grin. He thought his dad would be mad at him, but thankfully, he was the furthest from mad.

"But don't think this means you can go out crimefighting," Dick added quickly.

"Aww, Dad!" Jake whined.

Dick wagged his finger at him. "Don't 'aww, Dad' me! You may have the look, but you're not old enough."

Jake pouted. "I'm not a baby anymore, Dad!"

"Aww, but you're still my baby.” He gave Jake a quick kiss to the temple. “Now, come on, you two. Mom made dinner, and I can’t wait to see the look on her face when she sees you."

"Did she burn the food again?" Mar'i grimaced. She loved her mother dearly, but she was not the most adept in the kitchen.

"Yeah, I don't know if I can eat burnt lasagna again, Dad."

"Now, now, glowsticks. Mom spent all day working on this meal!" Dick assured them. He escorted them out of the attic. "It's a dish from Tamaran. I'm sure it'll be wonderful."

Mar'i whispered to her brother, "I like when Mom cooks. We always get McDonald's afterward."

"Or food poisoning."

#dick grayson #DickKory #mar’i grayson #fanfic #drabble #Headcanon #Teen Titans #starfire #koriand'r #fanfiction #jake grayson #jake and mar'i are twins

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queenxxxsupreme · 3 years

Note

Hi babe 🥰

Happy Valentine’s Day! 💕

Si, i gotta ask. How do you think Dettlaff would celebrate Valentine’s Day with his SO/reader?

A/N: I saw my chance to answer another ask so I took it!

***

You gently tugged at the blankets that covered Dettlaff’s sleeping form.

“Dettlaff.” You sing-songed his name, a little smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

The Higher Vampire groaned, readjusting the pillows that he had stuffed beneath his head, and tucked his nose into their warmth.

You pulled away three different blankets from him, pulling them down to expose his bare shoulders to the cold air of the room. You moved from the foot of the bed to his side, your fingers trailing like feathers along his spine.

“Come on, darling. You’ve been sleeping for three hours.”

He shivered beneath your touch, your warm fingers a stark contrast to his chilly skin.

“Lay down with me for just a moment, my love.” His words were muffled by the pillows but you could understand him just fine.

“Now you know that isn’t a good idea.” You propped one knee up on the edge of the bed and leaned down to kiss the space behind his ear. “Then we’d never get out of bed.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad, does it?”

“No, but everyone will be here shortly for dinner.”

Finally understanding that he couldn’t stay in bed with you for the rest of the night, Dettlaff let out a heavy sigh and rolled over onto his back. He looked up at you for a few moments, icy blue eyes inspecting your features.

“How many of them are coming? Just Regis and Orianna, I hope.”

“Well, they are coming. But so is Geralt and Yennefer, and Lambert and Aiden. Eskel is bringing someone too, though I haven’t met them yet.”

“You know, I think it would’ve been lovely if we had just made plans for ourselves and no one else.” His hand came up to cup your face.

“We can make plans for ourselves any other night of the year. Tonight, we can spend time with friends.” You leaned down to kiss his chest just above his heart.

“We can make plans for friends any other night of the year.” He muttered. His hand trailed around to the back of your head, long and slender fingers carding through your hair.

“Dettlaff.” You sighed softly. “You were excited about it when we put the plans together two weeks ago.”

“That was two weeks ago.”

“I should know better by now. My lovely introvert.” You teased as you leaned forward once more to kiss him.

“You really should. You’d think you’d learn your lesson after spending half a decade with me.”

You were glad to see he was in a good mood. Hopefully that meant this evening would go over smoothly.

“Come on.” You patted his chest and slipped out of the bed. “We’re going to go for a little walk before anyone gets here just so we can have some time to ourselves. I’ll be leaving a note on the table should anyone arrive early.”

“Regis.” Dettlaff grumbled as he sat up.

“He does like being punctual.”

***

The moon hung high in the sky, shining down through the thick tree canopies.

Dettlaff walked alongside you, your arms woven together as you leaned into him.

“I think it will be fun.” You thought out loud.

“What will?” He turned his head to look at you.

“Spending the night with friends. Well, they’re practically family, aren’t they?”

“You could say that.” Dettlaff nodded. “Though I think it would’ve been wiser to spend Valentine’s night with you alone in our home than crowded around a table with a bunch of loud dogs.”

“Hindsight is 20/20.” You giggled. “Don’t worry, darling. You’ll have plenty of time after they leave to spend alone with me.”

He grumbled something incoherent under his breath.

“I do appreciate you agreeing to this, Dettlaff.” You came to a stop and turned to face him. “I know crowds aren’t your favorite and you aren’t one for socializing. It means a lot to me that you suggested we do something like this tonight.”

His blue eyes stayed on you as his hand came up to brush a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“I know how much you enjoy their company. And I’m willing to sacrifice my sanity for a few hours to see you happy.”

You smiled.

“But that isn’t my only gift for you. I do have something else.” He dug his hand into the pocket of his coat. “Can I see your wrist please?”

“Which one?”

“Either one.”

You gave him your left, watching as he clasped a silver bracelet around your wrist. Before letting you go, he brought your wrist to his mouth, pressing a tender kiss to the veins on the underside of your wrist.

“It isn’t much, but it made me think of you when I saw it.” He explained, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Well, not exactly you. I-I thought that it would remind you of me. I know I’m not always around. Sometimes I’m gone with Regis and other times I’m just…. So I wanted you to have something that reminded you of me.”

You turned your wrist around, examining the piece of jewelry. There was a little bat charm on it that made you smile.

“Dettlaff, it’s beautiful.”

“You like it?”

“I do.” You nodded, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders and squeezing him tightly. “Thank you.”

He hugged you back, tucking his nose into your shoulder.

“I have something for you too.” You pulled away, keeping one hand on his shoulder. “But it’s back home.”

“Let’s finish our walk and we can go back.”

***

You led the way down the hall towards your shared bedroom with Dettlaff.

He listened to the way your heart picked up pace, the way it changed from that of the flap of a butterflies wings to something more akin to a hummingbird. You were excited.

You guided him over to the bed and gestured for him to sit.

“Stay here and close your eyes. I’ll go grab it. It’s in my study.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed, eyes following you as you left the room.

“Are your eyes shut, Dettlaff?”

“Of course, my heart.” He answered, closing his eyes.

“Will you keep them shut?”

“Do you not trust me?” He teased.

“Don’t use any of your vampiric magic either.”

He grinned a little. Though his eyes were shut, he could still tell exactly where you were in the house. You were in the closet in your study, moving things around. You cursed a little and muttered under your breath about how cluttered things were. After a few moments, however, you were making your way back towards the bedroom.

Dettlaff couldn’t figure out what it was that you were gifting him. It had no smell, no taste that tainted the air. It emitted no sound. He listened more carefully, but was dumbfounded. All the ideas that had been forming in his head were disappearing.

“Darling, can I open-,”

“No.” You answered quickly, your voice sounding strained. “Keep them shut just-just a moment longer.”

It took all of the Higher Vampire’s self control to not open his eyes and see what it was that you had. But he didn’t want to upset you. He didn’t want to ruin your surprise.

You grunted a little and there was a deep thunk.

“Damn.” You cursed quietly.

“Is all well, my love?”

“Yes, yes. Just fine. You can open your eyes now.”

Dettlaff opened his eyes and instantly found you standing in front of him with a wide smile on your lips. Your hands were clasped together in front of you and you were messing with your fingers.

“I know how frustrated you get when you can’t find a mirror that works for you.” Your voice was quiet and timid. You stepped aside to reveal a large square mirror leaning against the dresser behind you. “The ones I have here, they are made with silver. So I had one specially made for you.”

Dettlaff’s lips parted as he looked at the mirror, seeing his own reflection in the surface. He couldn’t find the words to express what was going through his head.

Being that you weren’t sure how to take his silence, you continued to talk, your nervous ramblings getting the best of you.

“I know you like to get ready in the mornings with me and it puts quite a damper on the mood when you can’t see yourself. And-And you do take pride in your looks. You’re a dashing man-,”

“My heart?”

“Yes?”

“Come here.” He held his hand out for you.

You moved towards him, settling between his parted knees with your hands in his.

“Thank you.” He kissed your knuckles. “That was very kind of you. And very expensive, I presume.”

“That doesn’t matter.” You shook your head, reaching one hand around to place it on the back of Dettlaff’s head. You pulled his head into your chest and kissed his hair. “I wanted to do something for you.”

“And all I got you was a little bracelet.”

“It isn’t a competition of who gave the most expensive gift, Dettlaff.” You reminded him, pulling away so you could get a better look at him. “I’ve been planning this for a while, and it just happened that I had the means for now.”

His eyes lingered on you, a little smile on his lips.

“I am the luckiest creature alive, you know that right?”

“Oh, perhaps.” You grinned, giving him a chaste kiss. “I should go start dinner. I’m surprised Regis and Orianna-,”

A knock from the other room cut you off.

“You spoke too soon.” Dettlaff sighed. “It’s only Regis and Orianna. Hopefully the wolves are late.”

“Knowing them, they probably will be.” You moved towards the bedroom door. But at the last minute, you turned to look back at him. “I love you, Dettlaff.”

“I love you more, my heart.”

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crystxlclear · 3 years

Text

sudden desire

chapter nine: how to run from the mess you’ve made!

part ten of sudden desire

synopsis: marcus meets the parents.

word count: you’re crying. this is long. this is so damn long. this is 12.2k words and you’re crying.

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, mentions of periods, alcohol consumption, strong language, angst, the briefest and barely noticeable references to sexy times

author’s note: i have nothing to say except jesus christ it’s so long (also i got hit with that text block limit, so couldn’t even add a gif???? don’t think anything got deleted but i can’t be sure! hopefully we’re okay!) also not beta’d because it’s so long and i’m lazy

“My parents are in town and they want to meet you.”

She breaks it to him over coffee in the early morning. It’s become practice for him to wake before her - her apartment or his, any day, any time - and have a mug of coffee waiting for her whenever she drags herself from the bed, seemingly too sprightly for 7:30, to greet him. It’s become their ritual, over the weeks, stealing moments over sunrise and coffee. Quiet mornings where caffeine and the quiet hum of the city lull them away from the precipice of dreamy delirium. Coraline hides herself behind the familiar mug like he hasn’t seen every part of her soul stripped bare.

Judging by the look on Marcus’ face, it would have seemed as if Coraline had just told him one of them was dying. The colour has drained from his cheeks, pale, ghost-white and wide-eyed. He coughs, trying to play off his shock and utter bewilderment, and hide the way his jaw drops a little at the notion. “Erm... what?” His eyebrows raise in that almost playful, questioning way, like, reclining back on the sofa and trying to seem nonchalant about the entire situation, attempting to pull at some of his usually-cool demeanour to cover his worry.

He knows Coraline can read him far too well to fall for it.

“I said-” There’s a small smirk that curves the corner of her lips. She can’t help it. “-my parents are in town-” Coraline leans forward and places her half-drunk mug of coffee on the cluttered coffee table. “-and they want to meet you.”

“They want to meet me? Why not Loren? You’ve known her longer.”

“They’ve known Loren for years and she dated my brother. You, on the other hand, they’ve never met.” Coraline chuckles and cocks her head to the side. She raises an eyebrow at him when his expression remains dumbfounded; or shocked or bewildered. Whatever it is, he looks like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. It’s unusual seeing him like this, without his usual air of confidence and poise. “Besides, you’re my best friend, dumbass.”

“I am?” There’s a swell of pride in his expression, now; it flickers there for a moment, before the uncertainty creeps back in.

“Of course you are!” She tilts her head. Her hair falls over her shoulder, brushing against her collarbone and the skin of her shoulder where her sleep shirt has slipped down. “You already know that.”

He watches her for a moment. Warm eyes capture her gaze and she can’t tear herself away from him as he searches for something behind her eyes; she’s not sure what he’s looking for, and she’s not sure if she even offers up the answers. “Do they know about-” He motions between the two of them. He can’t find the right words to describe whatever it is between them. He’s not even sure there is a word to describe it. “-the agreement?”

“The baby stuff?” She questions, though she already knows what he means. Sometimes she has to remind herself, out loud, to assure herself that it’s not some kind of strange dream. “No, no. I don’t even know where to start with that.”

“What happens when you do get pregnant?”

“If I get pregnant-” she insists. She’s learnt not to get her hopes up; she’s part of a fickle industry, inevitable disappointment is familiar enough to her, now. “As far as they’re concerned, it was an accident. A very happy, not-entirely-accidental-or-unwelcome accident. That’s all they need to know.”

He exhales sharply and runs his hand over the stubble that covers his jaw. “And if they hate me?”

Coraline has to stifle a laugh against her coffee mug. Her lipstick leaves a half-moon of red against the ceramic. She’s sure she looks ridiculous; half dressed up, makeup done in only half an hour, in the dim morning light of her bedroom, hair still a tangled, pillow-tousled mess and in her pyjamas - or solely Marcus’ shirt and her underwear - from the night before. Still, when she’d entered the kitchen in search of caffeine, he’d looked at her like she was the most beautiful sight he’d ever laid eyes on. Sometimes, he makes her believe that she is. “Are you scared?” She smirks, wiggling her eyebrows. His expression is wavering and it just makes her grin even wider. “Like they could ever hate you.” She thinks that might be the most ridiculous thing he’s ever said. Besides, she’s pretty sure her father would like anyone who made Coraline happy. And, God knows, Marcus makes her the happiest she’s ever been. “You’re pretty damn great, aren’t you?”

He hums out a laugh at her reply. “I try.”

“Look, if they don’t like you- but they will, I guarantee they will- then that’s their loss, and it won’t change my mind about how much I adore you.” She almost cringes at her choice of words; perhaps saying that you adored your best friend - your best friend who you were committed to having a child with, wasn’t the most articulate of choices. Adore was spared for lovers, which they definitely were not. “But, if you really don’t want to meet them, that’s fine. I’m not going to force you. But I just think that- maybe- it would be nice if they knew you before- well, y’know-”

“And you would introduce me as…?”

“Marcus, stop deflecting.” She prods him in the side and his face breaks out into a great beaming smile. “My best friend, hopeful future father of my child, Agent Marcus James Pike.” She clarifies, half-jokingly, with amusement in her voice.

“I’m not sure how well that would go over, Cora.”

She raises her eyebrows quickly then drops them with a resigned sigh. “Best to leave out the baby stuff for now, huh?”

Her father is her oldest friend. They’ve always been close, a true daddy’s girl since she was two-years-old. He was so damn supportive of her dreams, the one who believed in her all those years ago when it seemed like no one else did. He’s part of the industry; behind the scenes, more into the music that soundtracked her performances than being in front of the camera, and preferring to stick around in not-so-sunny Michigan than move his entire family to California, where the highest demand was. Rather than persuading her against acting, pushing her away from the fickle world that was Hollywood, he wanted her to succeed. He never gave her a leg up or helped, just watched in adoration as she carved her own path.

But this, this was one thing she wasn’t entirely sure he would support. Maybe, if they were lucky, they’d catch him in a good mood. Maybe they’d be able to bring him around to the idea.

She figured, however, that it was better just to call it all an accident and pretend that a pregnancy wasn’t meant to happen.

“Can you help me with the food? I can’t cook.”

“You can’t cook?”

Coraline hits him on the arm with the back of her hand, lightly, pouting at him as he chuckles at her half-hearted fake offence. “Shut up, Pike.” Her hand clasps over her heart. “Oh, I’m wounded, I’m wounded.”

He leans forward and drops a quick, fleeting kiss to her cheekbone. His plush lips barely brush gently over the bone yet it still sends coils of searing heat through her chest. A smile blooms across her lips like a flower unfurling its petals. “Sorry, Sunshine.” He grins again as he stands and maneuvers over towards the kitchen. “As much as I would love to watch your attempts at achieving culinary excellence, I’ve got to work all week,” he tells her as he drops his half-empty coffee mug into the sink. He checks the time on his watch - 8:35, just enough time to pull himself together and make it into work - and rolls down his pushed-up sleeves.

“Take the day off today. Call in sick or something.” She pouts, peeking out over the sofa as he fixes his tie and tugs on his suit jacket. “Help me shop and then prep things and cook and-”

Marcus stops dead as he moves to pull on his suit jacket. “They’re coming today?”

“Did I not mention that?” She squeaks.

“It slipped your mind, Sunshine.”

Coraline sighs and slides back into the thick sofa cushions, letting them swallow her whole. “They’ll be here at six.”

He leans against the wooden kitchen counter, crossing his arms over his chest, and smiles at her with that soft smile that inspires so much comfort within her. “I’ll be here at five.”

“You will?” Her face lights up and she practically leaps from the couch. In Marcus’ eyes, she radiates sunshine. “I’m so, so sorry about this, it was all so last minute because my dad’s been ill, and they were meant to go to Daniel’s instead, but he has to work late and-”

“It’s no problem, Cora.”

She pauses, measuring his expression. “That’s a lie, but I appreciate the support and optimism.”

“Well, there has to be one optimist in this relationship.”

Relationship. Only a friendship.

“Thank you, again,” she exhales tightly, watching as he scoops up his briefcase and keys. After the first month, they’d had the foresight to leave their stuff at each other’s houses; there are three of Marcus’ shirts hung at the edge of her closet and a couple of Coraline’s dresses tucked inside his; spare toothbrushes by the bathroom sink, deodorant on the dresser, shampoo by the shower. There’s no need for a mad, early-morning dash across town, now. Just relaxed mornings with coffee that slowly lure them awake. Marcus is dressed and ready to go, looking as handsome as ever as he checks he’s ready, before he steps out for the day.

“Don’t worry about it,” he insists, flashing her a dazzling, heartstopping smile. He drops a second fleeting and breathless kiss to her cheekbone before sweeping out of the front door.

Thank God for Marcus Pike.

...

He’s far more relaxed than he’d expected when he steps into Coraline’s apartment. His feet are aching and his back is rigid and tight with the weight of the day’s workload, but the comfort of her apartment is indescribable. The air in D.C. had been uncharacteristically hot; the city was thick with the cloying humidity of late-spring, the kind that sticks your clothes to your skin with an uncomfortable insistency. But Coraline’s apartment is a breath of fresh air; the AC is cranked up to ten and he sinks into comfort the moment he steps over the threshold. Perhaps it’s the low hum of music, whispering and slow and crackling gently as the vinyl spins in it’s customary circles, or the homely smell of the citrus and cotton candles she burns. Or, perhaps, it’s just her and the way she hums along to the crooning melody of Jeff Buckley. He wouldn’t mind returning home to this every day. The sight of her, living her life enraptured in bliss, carefree and happy, for the eyes of everyone else.

He knows this record is her favourite - a mismatch of songs that seem to have no reason to be on the same record, but somehow seem so utterly Coraline that he can’t help but think of her any time one graces the radio - but that she only plays it when she’s anxious. It’s one of her tells. And he wonders how long it’s taken for her to relax, how long it’s been since the tense set of her shoulders had finally relaxed and she’d melted into the mindless swaying of her body.

“Welcome home, honey,” her lilting voice calls over the music, in a mock sultry voice. It’s tipped with a carefree giggle and, though he can’t see his face, he knows she’s struggling to smother a wide smile. “Have a good day at work?” She asks without turning to look at him. She’s paying far more attention to what’s in front of her, meticulously chopping vegetables like doing it wrong would spell the end of the world.

“It was fine. Lot of paperwork.” Marcus shrugs off his suit jacket, rolls up his sleeves to his elbows and meanders through towards the kitchen where Coraline is. “What are we making?”

“Erm- well- chicken, I guess?” She can feel the weight of his amused gaze upon her face. “Don’t look at me like that. I bought chicken, I just don’t know what to make with it.”

“One of these days, I’m going to teach you how to cook. Save you from living on takeout and cold food.”

“At least I eat vegetables. Things could be a lot worse.”

He glances over at her, skeptical, as he takes over, surveying the groceries Coraline has lined up along the countertop. She’d bought stuff blindly at the store; stuff she knew Marcus liked, knew her parents liked, knew her nephews would actually eat, and had somehow ended up with two full bags of groceries, half of which she has no idea how to cook. The other half, she has no clue whether Marcus has any use for. Hindsight was a wonderful thing and she’d wished she’d called him at the office to ask what the hell she needed to buy at the store. It’s useful, she assumed, because at least she’s prepared. But there’s definitely such a thing as being over prepared, and it’s almost embarrassing to see the result of her panic buying.

“Cooking’s pretty easy,” he explains, cherry-picking ingredients from the far-too-neatly and meticulously stacked pile and examining them. “Just try not to burn anything.”

“Okay, okay, Gordon Ramsay. What are we eating for dinner?”

...

Coraline has no idea what he’s made. She knows what’s in it, but what they make, what they taste like together, she’s hopelessly clueless. She’d helped out as much as she could, chopping vegetables, tucking away the things he didn’t need, but he moved around the kitchen with practiced ease. He’s always proclaimed he isn’t a cook - at least, he’s never claimed to be a bad one, or, at least, not as terrible as Coraline seems to be - and they always tend to settle on takeout and quick breakfasts, whenever they’re together, but the way he’d navigated things seems second nature to him. Still, whatever he’s made, it smells good - amazing, in fact - as it cooks slowly in the oven beside them.

Coraline sits atop the counter, legs swinging idly in front of her. She sips at her glass of merlot, restraining herself, wishing she could just down the damn thing and pour another, and another, and another. “Hmm, liquid courage,” she hums as she takes a sip of the crimson liquid. It’s more to herself than to Marcus, though he seems to hear and chuckle to himself, rolling his pushed-up shirt sleeves back down over his wrists and retying his tie that had been neatly folded over the back of a barstool since he came in.

She feels a little guilty for drinking, though she’d just finished her period, their efforts of trying for a baby seemingly unsuccessful. But the cramps in her stomach are still overwhelming and her eyelids still feel endlessly heavy. Wine seems to be the best - and the only - solution to her situation. Wine and ice cream. Lots and lots of ice cream. “Want some?” She offers out the half-empty bottle for him when he notices her watching her, settling his tie against the hollow of his throat, neat and proper.

“I’m good for now.” He refuses, crossing his arms over his chest. His shirt pulls over his back and shoulders when he moves and the curve of his muscles are visible beneath the white cotton of his shirt. “I’d rather be sober when I meet your parents.”

He’d laughed earlier, laughed at him being so strung up over meeting them. That it wasn’t as if they were getting married, and they were his soon-to-be-in-laws. They weren’t the bearers of brutal bad news or the rulers of Coraline’s life, either. And he knows her well enough that she’s sure she’ll never forget him because her parents don’t like him. And that, if they don’t like him, it isn’t entirely the end of the world. At least, that’s what he’d told her. But it would be the end of the world, to him; she means the world to him, more than she even realises, and they would be the grandparents of their child, after all. They’d be important to them and to Coraline and, if they were anything like Marcus’ parents, they’d love that baby more than the air that they breathed, more than anything else in the world, and more than they ever thought possible. He’s an only child and the bearer of all that love and adoration they had to offer for so long. And he has no doubt that Coraline’s parents feel the same way about her.

“They’ll love you, Marcus,” she insists. Coraline sets her wineglass down beside her on the countertop and leans forward, hands braced either side of her thighs as she glares at him over the rim of her glasses. She wears them whenever she’s stressed; she rubs her eyes a lot - something about fidgeting and idle hands, an unconscious distraction - and contact lenses don’t tend to fare too well when the days drag on and the night arrives. She’s had sore eyes by 6pm far too many times. “You don’t have to worry about it. Just be the same brilliant man you always are and I’m sure you’ll all be best friends in no time.”

He snorts out a breathy laugh through his nose. “Maybe you’ll be bumped down to second place.”

“Hey!” She jabs a finger in his direction playfully and tilts her head, cocking an eyebrow as he smirks at her. “Don’t even joke about that.”

“No one could ever replace you, Sunshine.” His smirk melts into a fond smile, the kind that practically melts her whenever she sees the way his warm eyes revere her, as if she’s a long-thought-lost painting he’s laying eyes on for the first time. She’s quite fond of the way he makes her feel as if she actually means something in the world.

“They better not.” She fakes a pointed glare in his direction. “Good luck getting rid of me now.” She grins, beaming.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he insists, pushing off the counter opposite her to check the time on the oven. He settles back against the counter again, beside her this time. An embarrassing groan almost slips from her lips, involuntarily and likely painfully loud, when she smells his cologne. It blooms out in front of him when he moves, that gentle and familiar scent that she could recognise a mile away. It’s warm spice mixes with the soft scent of his shampoo and Coraline feels the last trickles of anxiety bleed from her as she takes it in. It relieves the terrible tension that holds stoic and unwavering in her shoulders.

“Used to play this song with my band.” He snaps her from her reverie with another revelation, the warmth of his voice only serving to help the winding down of the tension within her. At least with him here, things feel fine again. She’s sure that things will be fine. But she isn’t entirely sure her parents liked Scott too much - not right for her, too unenthusiastic and seemingly full of himself - but Marcus? Marcus is the opposite. There’s no reason why they won’t like him; he’s sweet and kind and considerate and wonderful, cares about her and everything that she does, cares about her happiness and sits to listen without complaint to all her problems and fears. He asks her how her day has been, unprompted. Her dad has only ever wanted that for her, even if this was only in the form of a friend, not in a lover.

“You did?” She raises an eyebrow. Everybody Wants to Rule the World by Tears for Fears plays quietly over the speakers. She doesn’t know what kind of music she’d expected Marcus to make in college, but somehow this isn’t it. When he’d told her about the short-lived tongue piercing and his self-proclaimed ‘punk’ phase, she’d pictured the Sex Pistols and the Ramones, not this soft pop rock that soundtracked her teenage years. It’s a sight she longs to see. now; she can’t imagine anything but sweet, gentlemanly Marcus and his suits, when the edgiest she’d seen him dress being a leather jacket and jeans on his days off.

Marcus has never been one to shy away from that part of his life - he jokes about it all more than she does, the edgy phase of college rebellion, those first years away from home - but she’s yet to see photographic evidence of such escapades. Every time she asks, pleads, eve, batting her eyelashes and smiling as sweetly as she can muster, his cheeks flush and he ducks his head, and brushes off her request with a joke or a second, more appealing suggestion. He has no reason to be embarrassed, though; he’s seen the worst of her, even her ‘goth’ phase in high school, which was really nothing more than her wearing black lipstick everyday for a couple of months. There’s a playful glint in her eyes as she reminds him of the lack of proof. “I’m still waiting on those videos, y’know.”

“I have to prepare before I show you them.”

“Oh, please. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. You’ve seen that old horror movie I was in,” she reminds him. The horror movie in question, which ended in her soaked in blood and limping around with an axe trailing behind her, was not the cinematic masterpiece the director hoped it would be. It’s a shame, really, because Coraline watches far too many horror films in her spare time, even the cheesy ones that it’s fun to poke fun at. She’d at least like to be in a good one.

She reaches down to pour herself a second, probably unwise and ill-thought-out glass of wine. Some nights, it only takes a couple of glasses before she’s tipsy and talking shit she can’t seem to control. Marcus sideeyes her, cocking an eyebrow in silent question, but he doesn’t seem to stop her. He doesn’t blame her, and he’ll steal away the wine the second he notices the tell-tale blush of intoxication that blooms across her cheeks.

“I’m not worried about being embarrassed,” he remarks, “I’m worried about you having your mind blown. Have to think of a way to lessen the blow.”

“Oh, is that so?” She chuckles, tipping her head back against the kitchen cupboard behind her head. “Well, I look forward to having my mind blown.” Her face lights up in realisation; her head snaps towards Marcus and she grins. “Can you still play?”

“Oh, yeah. Maybe I’ll show you sometime.” He hums. “

“I’m not worried about being embarrassed. I’m worried about you having your mind blown. Have to think of a way to lessen the blow.”

“Is that so?” She chuckles, tipping her head back against the kitchen cupboard behind her head. “Well, I look forward to it.” Her face lights up in realisation; her head snaps towards Marcus and she grins. “Can you still play?”

“Oh, yeah. Maybe I’ll show you sometime.” He hums.

There’s a moment of pleasant silence when the music fills the sweet air. The song lulls to a close and the next begins, slow and melodic and easy. It’s one of Coraline’s favourites - Songbird by Fleetwood Mac - and her eyes pull closed as she listens to the mellow chorus of the piano. It tangles with the silence, dancing between the quiet, empty moments. “I love this song.” She sighs, eyes slipping closed.

“Dance with me.”

Coraline snorts out a jolt of laughter. “What?”

“Dance with me, Sunshine,” he repeats.

“Why?” She giggles. Her eyes are still closed as she hums along quietly to the lyrics.

“Because-” She feels him push away from the counter and settle in front of her. One hand curves around her knee, his thumb brushing short, small circles to the inside. “-it’ll take your mind off things,” he insists.

Coraline cracks an eye open. He’s inches from her, brown eyes almost irresistible, so difficult to refuse when he looks at her like this. The candlelight flickers and turns his irises to pools of amber and gold. “I can’t dance.”

“I’ll teach you.” He states simply.

She searches his expression for an ulterior motive. Not that she expects there to be one; there never is with Marcus. He never expects anything back in return for favours or good deeds, is just content with his acts of kindness as long as they make someone smile. He holds his hand out for her in expectation.

She takes it.

“Fine. But only one song.”

His face lights up. Like sunshine. “That’s all I want.”

His hands are gentle when they curve around her waist. He holds her close so gently, fingers pressing soft into the plush flesh of her hips, feather-light. Her heart almost stops when she feels his breath against her neck and she can’t help the sharp inhale that rips through her chest. She hopes he doesn’t hear, but she doesn’t think she’ll be that lucky. Her arms slip around his neck; she wants to hold him close, impossibly close, until the cold that always seems to plague her and all of her fear floats away, until they simply don’t exist anymore.

“What do I do?” She whispers.

“You’ve never been slow dancing before?” He raises his eyebrows in surprise.

“I did at my wedding but-” She chews on her lip as she ducks her head. His hands hold her hips a little tighter. “-I don’t think his heart was really in it.

Marcus watches her until she finally lifts her head again. Deft fingers the brush the brunette stands of her hair back from her forehead, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. The intoxicating scent of his cologne consumes her again; it’s rich and brilliant and she really isn’t sure why today, of all days, it’s inspiring some kind of wonderful delirium inside her. She figures it’s the alcohol, already too much before her parents arrived, just like she’d feared.

“Well, that’s his loss, Sunshine. Everyone should slow dance at least once in their life.”

He starts to sway along to the music, steady, in time to the dreamlike rhythm of Fleetwood Mac. She tries her best to follow his movements but she still feels like, somehow, she’s doing it wrong. She’s never been a good dancer, even despite the ballet lessons her mom had signed her up for when she was young, but it turns out she’s even worse than she’d thought. She’s not sure how she’s possibly able to get something as simple as slow dancing wrong. Her feet just don’t work in time with the rest of her body.

“Like this?” Her voice is small, almost a squeak.

Marcus’ hand slides into the small of her back, gently pushing her hips closer into him. It’s easier like this, with him closer, to keep in time with his movements. “Just like that.” He whispers against her ear. “You’ve got it.”

She can feel her heart beating at a mile a minute. It’s hammering right behind her ribcage and she’s sure that Marcus is close enough to feel its rapid thumping against his own chest. Still, she melts into his embrace and their movements become second nature. It’s lovely and it’s comfortable and, he’s right, it does take her mind off of her anxious jitters. The sporadic flickers of the candlelight illuminate the contours of his face when she finally drags her eyes up from their feet - she’d been watching their measured movements so she doesn’t put a foot wrong - and they highlight the fondness in his expression.

“What?” She murmurs quietly, through the melodic silence. He doesn’t answer; his gaze maps out every curve of her face.

The intoxicating scent of his cologne consumes her; it’s rich and brilliant and she isn’t sure why today, of all days, it’s inspiring some kind of wonderful delirium inside her. She figures it’s the alcohol, already too much before her parents have even arrived, just like she’d feared. She fights against the fluttering of her own eyelids.

“I like this dress,” he whispers, running his fingers over the soft silk material of her summer dress. He holds the strap between his thumb and forefinger and smiles. She’s pretty sure that this is his veiled attempt at trying to distract them both away from their fixed stares. “Is it new?” The soft pad of his thumb brushes against her collarbone; she has half the mind to pull away, step back from where he’s pressed flush against her, but every single shred of rational thought leaves her whenever he gets close enough. Coraline has to keep reminding herself that this isn’t how you’re meant to feel about your best friend, and she can usually manage to push those thoughts aside and remind herself how he feels about her; that he sees her as a friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

She can only nod, words catching in her throat. It feels as if every inch of her body is closing in on itself, wrapping itself in thick tension that claws relentlessly from inside her chest. “Bought it last week.” She shakes her head clear the best that she can. Goddamn alcohol. Her throat is screaming out for water. Marcus continues running the thin strap of her dress though his fingers, digits unintentionally brushing against her skin. It’s entirely innocent, and he means nothing by it. She isn’t even sure he realises what he’s doing; his gaze is firmly set on her again, brown eyes almost transfixed by her bottle green stare.

Coraline swallows through the thick lump that labours her breathing. “I-”

She has to admit that she’s more than a little relieved when there’s an insistent knock on the door. Half an hour earlier than there’s meant to be.

Coraline takes advantage of the distraction and untagles herself from Marcus’ featherlight grip, right as the song ends and bleeds into the next, feeling utterly pathetic for the feeling that has poured over her. “Buckle up!” She tries to sound enthusiastic, clapping her hands together, but it almost certainly falls flat. Marcus watches her as she drifts towards the door, like she’s floating on air, despite the awkward shuffling of her feet against the hardwood floors. She turns to flash him a sunshine smile as she reaches for the doorknob - a smile that calms his endlessly restless soul - before she pulls open her front door with an exaggerated grin to let her parents in.

“Dad!” Her sweet voice rings out in joy at the sight of her father, looking surprisingly healthy now and, finally, back on his feet. She’s been calling him everyday, since he’d first been in hospital, months and months of phone calls just to check that he was still okay. She’s immeasurably relieved to see him okay, and smiling back at her.

“Corrie.” He returns her grin - their resemblance is startling when they smile, Marcus notes - and they’re hugging each other tightly. They haven’t seen each other in six months, her parents too busy to visit her and Daniel in D.C. Marcus knows it’s difficult for Coraline, given how close she is to her dad - and her mom, too - and how long she’d battled with herself all those years ago before she’d even moved to California. “Oh, I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” she insists as he releases her from his embrace, and she moves to greet her mom with an equally bright smile. “I missed you both, so much.”

The whole time Marcus is standing there, unsure what to do with his hands. He feels like a teenager again. With that near-debilitating awkwardness that came with meeting his first girlfriend’s parents all those years ago, it’s not too different, now. Sure, he’s much more confident than he was then and he’d grown into himself, much more practiced in meeting new people, talking to people. Hell, part of his job even included intimidating suspects, on occasion. But he feels as if he’d been reduced to the same love-sick, acne-ridden teen, sure that the girl he’d been dating for a week was the one for him.

(They’d broken up two weeks later).

“Marcus-” Her voice calling him - always like a song when she calls his name - lures him back to reality. “-this is my dad, Robert, and my mom, Celine. But- but you already know that.” She tells him so much about her childhood, high school, growing up, everything, that she’s sure it seems like he already knows them. He can tell she’s flustered and hiding it behind a vibrant smile. “-mom, dad, this is Marcus.”

“Marcus!” Robert grins at him and his resemblance to his daughter is even more apparent, beyond their smile; the same eyes, the same little creases at the corners when their faces light up, even down to the way their noses jut out a little at the ends, curving upwards, ever-so-slightly. “Glad to see Corrie hasn’t scared you away, yet.” He jibes lightheartedly.

“Hey!” Coraline calls out in protest as she hugs her mom, swaying side-to-side a little as they greet each other for the first time in months.

“My darling,” she coos as she holds Coraline close. “I missed you more than you know.”

“I missed you too, mom.”

Robert reaches out to shake Marcus’ hand, with a glint in his eyes at his playful jab at Coraline, and he gratefully accepts. “Glad you could come tonight, I know it was very last minute.”

“It’s not a problem at all, Sir,” he insists. He turns to Coraline’s mom as she approaches with an outstretched hand. She’s never been one for the ‘one-kiss-on-each-cheek’ kind of greeting with anyone but her kids. “Ma’am.” He nods her head a little in both of their directions. His Texan accent comes out far stronger than usual when he greets them. She wonders if it’s a nervous tick he has; she’s never seen him nervous before, he’s never had a reason to be nervous around her, not really.

“Call me Robert,” he insists.

Coraline watches on fondly as the three of them — Marcus, and her mother and father —melt into conversation. It comes so easy to him, conversation. He’s a natural with people. She doesn’t know why either of them were ever worried about their meeting; Marcus is great, as always, but sometimes her parents seem to come on a little too strong after a while (she knows Kimmy had been more than a little intimidated by them when she’d first met them).

They’re already laughing and joking, her father’s hand on his shoulder fondly, like they’ve known each other for longer than a couple of minutes. Maybe it seems like they have; Cora is always annoyingly aware of how much time she spends talking about each of them, especially Marcus, to the other that it wouldn’t be surprising if they could each fill a book with stories she’s recounted to them with delight and fondness.

“So, Corrie-“ Her father claps her hands together and it almost startles her. She’s been gazing at the three of them chatting for so long that it almost seems weird. She’s glad that it draws her out of it and back to reality. “-what delights are you serving us tonight?” Amusement glints in his eyes.

“Oh, I see how it is.” She quirks an eyebrow, tilts her head and grins. Her hair falls over her shoulder, a waterfall of waves that brush soft against the curve of her neck. “Tell me, dad, whenever will the wonders of 2001’s Christmas casserole grace our tables again?”

“She’s feisty tonight.” He chuckles, stepping forward to kiss his daughter on the head.

“Actually-” Coraline glances fondly over at Marcus. He and her mom are half in conversation, half watching Cora and her dad’s playful little jabs towards each other. “-Marcus cooked.”

“Oh, thank God. Celine, we don’t have to order in at the hotel tonight,” he calls back over her shoulder and his wife grins at him in amusement, then over at her daughter with such a palpable fondness that it practically radiates from her.

Coraline pokes her dad sharply in the arm with the tip of her nail. “Hey!” She protests, shuffling off into the kitchen, but she can never bring herself to be mad at him. And she can quip back just as easy. “Don’t be rude, we have guests.”

Marcus’ heart almost stops when she throws a bright smile over her shoulder, curls bouncing against her shoulders and down her back. It lights up the room in its sunshine glory. Though her smile mirrors that of her mother and father, there’s something about hers that reaches her eyes and is utterly brilliant.

He’s sure that it’s the favourite of all the smiles he’s ever seen.

Coraline reaches up to draw the plates from the cabinets. She knows that they have more than enough time to spare before the food is ready, but if she doesn’t keep her hands busy, she worries that she’ll end up panicking again. She’s only just shaken the worries, she’d hate for them to return and for her thoughts to carry on their racing, at a mile a minute.

“How are you doing, kiddo?” Her father’s voice is low though it’s not like Marcus and her mom are listening; they’re laughing, the corners of his eyes wrinkled in that way that Coraline loves. She wouldn’t mind if either of them heard, though. She has nothing to hide.

“Better.” She sighs, a gentle blissful smile. She tries to stop herself from looking too manic, but she can feel a grin threatening to pull at her cheeks. “Much better, now.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” There’s relief in his eyes. It’s soft and endearing, and it seems as if a weight has been lifted from his shoulders when he sees her smile so dazzling, so genuine. His voice drops a little, almost to a whisper. “Marcus seems nice.”

“He’s great, isn’t he?” She sighs. “He’s really great.”

...

Daniel, Kimmy and the kids arrive right on time.

Not that they needed them there.

Marcus Pike is a natural. If even half of him was even the slightest bit nervous when he’d stepped into her apartment that evening, she can’t tell.

He’d eased his way into conversation with everyone around him, like he’d known them all for years. He’d answered all their questions without issue, made them laugh with his stories and laughed at their jokes, even those of her father’s that made Daniel and Coraline roll their eyes.

Cora’s apartment isn’t small, but it’s barely big enough to hold all of them, and chaos reigns as Elliot and Finley race around the apartment, tailed closely by their Grandfather. It’s great to see how close they are, close for two boys who see their grandparents over FaceTime more than they do in person. Celine keeps telling him to slow down as she sits with a sleeping and incredibly content Piper in her arms - he’s just got out of hospital, and his lungs weren’t exactly up to scratch before then - but even she can’t help but smile as the boys giggle gleefully when he grabs them and hauls them into his arms.

They’re all still smiling when they sit down to eat, the boys bouncing in their seats just being around their grandparents for the first time in months. Coraline thinks their delight sets Marcus at ease more than he already is; it dissolves any awkward tension, the kind that comes as custom with any first meeting, that may be lingering in the air, and it’s as if everyone around the table are family or old friends, not unfamiliar with the man sat next to her, and, If it weren’t for the worry stirring in the pit of her stomach, making her feel so sick that she feels like she might just throw up all over the floor of her dining room, she’d be smiling just as wide, too.

But every time her father sees Marcus smile at her or brush past her with the smallest of whispered and sincere apologies, and a large hand splayed gentle across her small of her back, she knows he’s just itching to ask her for every single little detail about their relationship; if they’re more than friends, if they’re together, if anything ever could come of their friendship beyond that. He means well and he just wants her to be happy. But she’s been warning him off asking with his eyes - even insisted in between one quiet moment when Marcus was using the bathroom that they were just that, very close friends and nothing more - but the notion of their agreement has been hanging heavy within her chest. It’s been weighing her down and anxiety has been churning wild inside her stomach. Even the wine isn’t helping; that age-old idiom of ‘liquid courage’ turning out to be a fallacy. If anything, it was only stirring the worry up into a veritable cyclone of terror.

Attention turns back to Coraline, eventually. They’ve drawn all they can from Marcus - what he does for work, where he lives and where he grew up - and Daniel and Kimmy - how the art gallery is going, how the kids are finding their new school (both far too distracted to answer for themselves), how they’re finding their new home now they have Piper - so that left Coraline and the extremely tender and previously untouched topic of her personal life. She knows there’s certain questions that they won’t ask out loud, at least, not with Marcus and the kids around, but she can feel the terrible urge to spill all her secrets growing stronger with each well-meaning but incredibly loaded question that they ask. She smiles through it, answers casually, but eventually the tether snaps and her words come tumbling out before she has a chance to stop them.

“We’re having a baby,” Coraline blurts out. “Me and Marcus,” she adds, like it isn’t obvious who she means. Her words are quick and jumbled but obvious enough that the room falls into a stunned, stifling silence. Everyone seems to drop their cutlery, a chorus of metal against porcelain, to stare at her. “Well- I mean- not yet, we’re- I’m not pregnant, yet- but, I-” She rambles. She’s well aware that her face is burning the brightest red, raspberry flushed across her cheekbones.

Marcus can tell that she’s been practically bursting at the seams since they’d sat down. She’d been shifting uncomfortably, feet bushing along the old rug beneath their feet, bumping haphazardly into his, and he could hear her hands brushing over the soft material of her dress awkwardly. She’s been smiling the entire time, laughing at every joke and embarrassing story her mom tells, though he can tell that smile was beginning to wear thin after a while. When attention turned to her and away from him and Daniel, Kimmy and the kids. The revelation had finally burst out but - despite the momentary look of relief that had flashed upon her expression - she looks even more tense at the reaction of her parents.

“You’re what?” Her father questions, eyebrows raising, words coming out in some sort of awkward splutter. His green eyes dart between the pair of them, sitting across from him, side-by-side and frozen like deers in headlights, Coraline can’t help but notice the way his smile had dropped, immediately, the moment the words had left her lips. His indecisive scowl was stark, in comparison to how he’d seemed before.

“I just-” Coraline takes in a sharp breath. The force of it almost hurts her lungs. “-we’re having a baby together and I don’t know when but we are and I just want you to love Marcus like I do because he’s my best friend and he actually wanted to do this for me- for us- and how often would you find someone who would agree to this kind of thing-”

“Cora, you’re rambling,” Daniel cuts in, voice soothing and low, willing to help her as she panics and panics and panics.

Marcus’ hand finds her underneath the table. She grasps his tight in both hands, tugging it into her lap and clinging to his digits for dear life. His thumb runs those slow, reassuring circles across her skin - the ones that are so gentle they’re but a tickle against the back of her hand - and she finds herself easing into his touch. “Breathe.” His voice is just as comforting as the circles he brushes into her skin.

Neither of her parents talk, just stare, stunned, and the entire table falls back into that awkward, thickened and suffocating silence. Elliot and Finley blink around at them all, confused and not entirely registering what Coraline had said, now what any of this meant. For two boys usually so rambunctious, loud and exuberant, their silence has come at the most uncomfortable of times. Daniel seems to be searching for the right words to say but nothing seems to come close to being the right thing to say in this situation.

She’s not sure what anyone can say in this situation.

She should have stuck to the whole ‘accidental pregnancy’ excuse, instead.

“It’s just-” Coraline looks over at Marcus for reassurance, though even his warm eyes don’t seem to offer much in the way of comfort. “I want a baby. I really want a baby. Even before the divorce,” she continues, “I just- I want to be a mom and I want a family of my own, so bad. So, me and Marcus are trying.”

“But you’re not together?” Robert Meyer’s finger draws an invisible string between the pair of them.

“I- no?” Her voice rises high and she sounds ridiculous. She knows that isn’t what he wants to hear. “He’s my best friend-” She clarifies, “-but we’re not together, not like that.”

Marcus has no clue what to say, every word dies heavy on his tongue and nothing seems right. Everything he can think to say would surely only serve to make this a thousand times worse than they already are. The exchange is happening so fast, too, that he wouldn’t even be able to get a word in, otherwise.

“Well, that sounds… lovely,” Celine proclaims and claps her hands together. Coraline is sure that she doesn’t mean to sound insincere, but it still comes out sounding that way. A little sarcastic, almost. If she didn’t know her mother, she would surely be offended, but at least she understands that it was never intended that way.

But Marcus doesn’t know her well enough to know that.

“And what do you think about this?” Robert’s questioning turns to Daniel. His eyebrows raise and he glowers at him expectantly.

He takes a deep breath, takes in a sharp breath through his nose and leans back in his seat. He manages a smile despite the tension that has settled thick throughout the room. Coraline’s hand tightens around Marcus’ - almost enough to be painful, but he doesn’t care, at this point - when Daniel smiles at his father. “I think it’s a great idea.”

“You do?”

Marcus hears Coraline sigh at the sound of her father’s incredulity. It’s a resigned sigh, one of those truly gut wrenching and downtrodden sighs that breaks his heart. “I should go,” Marcus leans into her to whisper. “I think I might be making things worse-”

“No, please,” Coraline insists, tugging her hand into her lap so that he can’t leave. He knows, maybe, he should, because her father probably hates him by now. But he’s not sure he could leave her. That, if he were to leave, he’d just end up coming straight back, staying by her side for as long as she needs, until she’s smiling again.

He loves to see her smile.

“She’s great with kids, why is it an issue?” Daniel questions.

“And she won’t be doing this alone, I’m in this for the long haul,” Marcus insists. He notices Celine smile at her out of the corner of his eye. Coraline’s hand squeezes his and her breathing levels out, just ever so slightly.

“I have thought about this, dad. I haven’t just rushed into it-”

“We should go.”

“No, dad, wait, please-“

“I’m not sitting around listening to you try and justify your ridiculous decisions, Cora,” he snaps and she flinches. She’s not sure she’s ever heard him angry before; she’s always been one of those stereotypical ‘daddy’s girls’, could never do anything wrong in her life in his eyes, but now he’s looking at her with so much disappointment and dismay that she just wants to curl up into herself and cry until she’s so exhausted she falls asleep. She hates it, she hates this.

Though she can’t bring herself to regret the decision she’s made with Marcus.

“I could talk to him.” Marcus proposes. It’s quiet in her ear so that only she can here, but no one else is paying attention; Robert is talking to Celine, trying to keep his voice level as she reprimands him for raising his voice in front of ‘a guest’, and Daniel is talking to Kimmy, though he can’t hear what they’re talking about. Coraline leans back into him a little, feeling comfortable with the weight of his shoulder pressed against hers, sturdy and steady and present, but shakes her head in refusal.

He doesn’t want to put his foot in it. He wants them to like him. He wants Coraline to like him.

“I-”

“Dad, come on,” Daniel insists, “Let’s talk about this.”

“Did you know about this? Before tonight?”

“Robert.”

“Yes, I knew. And I’ll support her. I don’t see what the big deal is-”

“Wow, it’s 8pm already?” He glances up at the clock that ticks monotonous and regular on the wall. He formulates his excuse to leave; Coraline can see it click, it’s obvious in his eyes. “Celine, we have to go,” Robert grumbles as he stands. “Thank you for the meal, Marcus. It was nice to meet you.” Her father may not sound overly sincere - his voice is stiff and his face is unreadable - but at least she knows that he’s polite enough not to take his frustrations out on Marcus. Cora knows, in his eyes, he’s done nothing wrong, and that Coraline is surely the only one he’s mad at because he cares about her and the decisions that she makes that might be terrible for her.

“Boys-” Kimmy turns to her sons. “-why don’t we go and watch some TV, huh?”

They both spring from their seats immediately, charging towards Coraline’s couch, so fast that it’s as if they’re running for their lives. She doesn’t think they were even paying attention to the conversation; when Coraline was younger, she’d never paid much attention to what her parents and family and their friends were saying around the dinner table, more interested in her brothers than their conversations. Finley and Elliot always seemed to be in their own little worlds, too, unless they had questions for someone. In which case, there was no way to get a word in without them shouting their enquiries over you. Thankfully for them all, they’d seemed more interested in whatever they’d been ferociously giggling about than Coraline and Marcus’ agreement, and their grandfather’s sudden and stoic disapproval. They’re probably too young to understand, anyway, beyond the notion of what a baby is.

“Come on, dad. Don’t be ridiculous,” Daniel speaks up.

“Dad, please.” Coraline stands to face her father but her hands shake and she shuffles uncomfortably. She’s not sure what to say or how to say it, or how the hell to make him stop hating her.

“I should probably be the one to leave.” Marcus pushes his chair back, gently, in resignation. “You can talk, then-”

“Oh, don’t leave on my behalf, Marcus.” Robert claps his hand on Marcus’ shoulder like he’s an old friend. “It’s getting late. It’s time for us to leave, anyway.” He turns and smiles at his wife. He holds out his hand to help her up; she takes his hand but drops his hand to cross her arms and quirk an eyebrow at him sceptically.

“Robert, I think that we should stay and talk about this, rather than running away.”

He gives a long, sharp exhale of breath. “I can’t. Not tonight. I just- I need to think about this.”

“Dad- I’m sorry.”

“Goodnight, Dan-” He nods at his eldest son. “Goodnight, Coraline, Marcus.”

No Corrie. No nickname. Just Coraline. He hasn’t called her that in a long time. Her full name, when it comes from him, always spells trouble. She’s heard so many jokes about how she can do no wrong in her father’s eyes - it was the same case with her mother and her brothers - but she’d never really believed anyone when they’d said that. Until now. It’s glaringly obvious when he calls out her full name, without the bright smile and sparkle in his eyes.

Her heart sinks to her stomach and she’s not sure that she’ll ever be able to pick it back up again.

He’s gone in a hurry. He ruffles his grandson’s hair and bids farewell to Kimmy, all the usual smiles he hadn’t wasted on Coraline and Daniel aimed at them, instead, and heads for his shoes and jacket, and then the door, with such haste it’s as if there’s a fire in the building and he needs to find his way out. The smile he turns to give them all before he opens the front door is barely a whisper of his usual and there’s an ice cold bolt of terrifying lightning that shoots through her, only alleviated by Marcus’ hand on her back.

“Are you okay?” His lips drop close to her ear. His breath stirs the hair by her neck and cheek, and she can feel the brush of his stubble against her neck and behind her ear. She’s so close that it feels strange when there are so many people around, even if it feels so normal for him to be beside her, like this. She shudders a little at the tickle. She can’t help it. It’s like she’s intoxicated, lost in that haze of worry and fear and the comfort of Marcus as he stands so close behind her.

“I don’t know,” Cora admits. Her voice trembles, even as she tries to keep it steady. Marcus wants to take her into his arms and hold her tight until she’s okay again. He knows he can’t do anything to fix this, but he’d be damned if he didn’t want to at least try.

“My darling, Coraline.” Her mother’s voice comes soft and soothing and, as she hurries towards her daughter, Coraline has to step away from Marcus. It comes reluctantly, and the cold flash of worry that had spilt over her - like being doused in a bucket of ice - finds its way back to her skin. “He will be okay, I promise you. You will be okay,” she insists. Her delicate hand cups her jaw, thumb brushing over her face reassuringly. “Think this through, talk it over with Marcus, and I will talk to your father tonight. Do not worry, darling, we will sort this out.”

Coraline sniffles, wrinkles her nose and brushes the freshly-fallen tears away from her damp cheeks. She hadn’t even realised she was crying until her mom brushed them away. “Thanks, mom.” She smiles the best she can but it’s weak and pathetic. At least she knows that her mom won’t judge her for her shaky half-smile and watery eyes. She’d been there for all her high school heartbreaks and then her divorce over FaceTime, but she’d also seen her cry over Hot Cheetos and mud on her shirt. Her mom could never make her feel embarrassed for crying over anything.

“Now, come here.” Celine holds her daughter close, brushes her fingers through her hair as it drops over her forehead and kisses her temple, delicate. “You’ll always be my little girl, you know that?” She taps her nose, inspiring a smile. “Think this through, really think all of this through, okay? I will call you tomorrow. Take care of yourself, please.”

Celine turns to Marcus and smiles a bright smile. “Thank you, Marcus. It was so lovely to meet you.”

“It was lovely to meet you, too, ma’am. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name in Cora’s stories.”

She smiles and squeezes his arm gently. “Please, call me Celine. I’m sorry for tonight, things aren’t usually so tense.”

“Don’t apologise,” he insists. “I’ll look out for her tonight.”

“I know you will.” Her smile is so genuine and sympathetic, thankful and relieved. “Goodnight, my darling.” She hums as she kisses Coraline’s forehead, with the intention of comfort. It seems to work; the rigid set of her shoulders gives way for just a moment, until she watches her leave with about as enthusiastic goodbye as she can muster for her grandkids; even Piper, who’d managed to sleep in her travel seat almost the entire time. Coraline sinks back into him the moment her mom’s figure disappears behind the front door.

She turns to him the moment the door clicks closed. She can’t seem to face looking him in the eyes. Her cheeks feel hot, bright red, and her eyes burn with a thousand unshed tears that she’d stoically been holding in until her mom had taken her in her arms and brushed a hand over her cheek. “I- I- fuck, Marcus- I’m so sorry. This is not how I wanted things to work out-”

“Hey, hey, hey-” She settles into his arms like she belongs there. His arms pull around her tight, keeping her close to his chest. Something about the measured, rhythmic set of his breathing helps to settle her running mind. “-you have nothing to apologise for, Sunshine.”

She practically crumbles when he holds her. Her hands clutch at him tightly and she tries to stop her shoulders from shuddering. His hand runs up and down her back, fingers brushing delicate against the silk fabric of her dress, soothing the terrible cold that shoots through her at her father’s hostility and the aching weakness that tugs at her chest. He almost kisses the shell of her ear as he whispers his comforting words, but stops himself once he remembers they have an audience.

Anyone else might misinterpret their actions as more than they are. As more than purely platonic.

“You’re trembling,” Marcus whispers. He can feel her shoulders shaking against him. It comes and goes, as if she’s trying to hold it in.

“I am?” She whispers but it’s muffled by his shirt.

She can only tell that he nods when his chin brushes against the top of head a couple of times.

“‘m sorry.”

Truth is, she’s freezing cold again. Has been since her father’s disapproval. She hasn’t felt a cold like it since her divorce, the night she and Scott had said their goodbyes for good, and she’d known that it was well and truly over. It had lingered upon her, like a taunting spectre. And it’s a chill that clings to her, holding on for dear life, with the ferocity of a blizzard, and just as unforgiving. His arms hold her close and inspire warmth within her, even for the few moments that he keeps her close.

...

The night seemed to stretch on for longer than it surely was. Minutes turned into hours, darkness had consumed the streets and everyone had left Coraline’s apartment, save for Marcus and Daniel.

Celine had texted Daniel to ask if everyone was okay once she and her husband had reached their hotel and delivered the reassuring news that Robert wasn’t really angry, just wasn’t sure where to place his emotions, in response to hearing his daughter was having a child with a man he’d only just met. He didn’t entirely blame him. He’s not sure he would be best pleased, either. Kimmy had left with the boys and Piper a little while later; the kids had somehow worn themselves out watching the TV, so they’d bundled them all down the stairs and into the car as best they could, as they grumbled and groaned out tired protests.

Daniel had stayed behind a little while to make sure that his sister was okay.

Marcus was an only child; he’d always wanted siblings growing up, but his parents never wanted more kids. He’d never felt lonely, when he was a kid - he had great friends, and his mom and dad were his heroes; he owed a lot to them for making him the man he was today - though he’d always wished he had someone to chase around the garden, to complain about the petty things his parents did that no one else would understand. To have someone to look out for, someone to look out for him. He wonders what it would feel like to have someone like that, someone always on his side. He’s always wanted a big family because he never wants his kids to miss out on something that they might want.

He thinks it gives her comfort to know that someone close to her actually supports her, rather than thinking it’s wrong that she’s even considering it. Even as she shuffles, trembling, into her bathroom, to try and wash away the chill, there’s no longer a ten tonne weight on her shoulders, bearing down angry on top of her.

It won’t help, the hot water. Not in the long run, at least. A temporary solution to a persistent problem.

She’s not sure she’ll ever be able to shake it.

“You think she’ll be okay?” Daniel questions as he leans back against the sofa, arms crossed tight over his chest, brows furrowed.

Marcus hums. There’s a wistful smile on his face. “I hope so.” He sighs and runs a hand over his jaw, shuffling awkwardly on his feet. “This is my fault.”

“It’s no one’s fault, Marcus. My dad just worries, but he’ll calm down sooner or later.” Daniel tells him. “Did she ever tell you about her first boyfriend?” Marcus vaguely remembers her mentioning him over takeout one night; Kevin or Kyle, some name like that. That they’d dated for barely two months and that he was an asshole, and she’d never really found him attractive. She’d never really given him a reason as to why she’d even dated him in the first place, though. Daniel continues at the sight of Marcus’ acknowledgement. “Our dad hated him. Wouldn’t even let him in the house, said he was trouble and would lead her astray. She was in her rebellious phase so, of course, stubborn as she is, she didn’t listen.”

“Huh, sounds like Cora.” It made a lot of sense. He’s surprised he never even put two and two together when she’d told him the first time.

“He was right though- guy was a total asshole.” He chuckles, short and indistinct. It still doesn’t seem like the time to be laughing, not with the weight of Coraline’s sorrow looming over them. “My dad got over it the next day. But Cora? Found her crying in her bedroom at 3am, worried he’d hate her for the rest of her life. But this- this seems bigger.” It’s like he’s struck down with the realisation. “Maybe she should sleep at ours tonight.” He wonders out loud.

“I’ll stay on the couch tonight, make sure she’s okay,” Marcus insists.

“Are you sure?” Daniel raises his eyebrows, surprised. And it almost surprises Marcus just how ready he is to sleep on the sofa, for Coraline’s sake - albeit, a very plush and snug sofa that he’d napped on before (and, ultimately, faced the butt of Coraline’s ‘old man’ jokes when he woke) - but then, when he really thinks about it, it’s not entirely a shock to anyone that he would be willing to do this. He’s done far more for her in the past. He’s not even sure just how far he’ll go just to make sure that Coraline is okay. Daniel glances back at the sofa he’s leant against and offers Marcus an out. “She can take the guest room at our place, it’s no problem.”

Marcus shakes his head and smiles. He’s never been so sure of himself. “It’s fine, I’m here for her.”

Daniel tilts his head the same way Coraline does when she’s thinking. The corners of his mouth pick up. “I’m glad she has you.” He sighs and pushes himself up from the sofa. “Thank you for this, Marcus. I’m sorry you got caught up in all of this. We’re not usually so… argumentative.” He huffs out a laugh and holds his hand out for Marcus to shake.

He shakes his head. Families are hard, sometimes. He’s witnessed that himself, first hand. “It’s no problem,” he insists. Marcus reaches for the blanket Coraline keeps folded over the back of the couch, ready to tuck himself under when she’s okay, again. “She needs someone tonight.”

He smiles gratefully. “Well, I best get going. Kim won’t forgive me if she has to do bedtime alone.” He chuckles and reaches out to shake Marcus’ hand again. “Nice to see you again, Marcus. Sorry about all of this.”

He bids Daniel farewell and locks the door. He finishes the last of the washing up, tucking each plate and piece of cutlery away into their designated place, so familiar with Coraline’s kitchen that he doesn’t even need to ask anymore.

He hears the shower shut off and, a little while later, the shuffling of slippered feet against the tiled floor. Coraline emerges from the bathroom with a towel wrapped tight around her frame, catching the drips of water that cascade down her back and shoulders, far too exhausted to care about him seeing her half-naked, wet-haired and fresh out of the shower. It makes her head spin to realise that he’s already seen more than that, anyway. The blush that creeps up at the thought almost burns her cheeks. She ducks into her bedroom and emerges a few seconds later in her stripey sleep shorts and a well-worn t-shirt with ‘Radiohead’ emblazoned across the chest. “You should get going,” she reminds him. Even her voice is exhausted and he wouldn’t be surprised if the second she tucked herself up in bed, she’d be asleep and dead to the world until morning.. “It’s getting late and I’m sure you have work early tomorrow.”

“I’m staying right here tonight.” He tells her. “If that’s okay?”

“You don’t have to,” she urges. “Not for me. I’m fine.”

“You shouldn’t have to be alone when you’re upset. I’m half of this, too”

There’s a beat of silence. It’s a lot heavier when it isn’t filled with quiet music. “I’m so sorry.” Her voice breaks when she speaks and he can tell that she’s close to tears again.

“Hey, hey-” He takes the few steps closer over to Coraline and takes her face in his hands. He tilts her head back a little, ever so gentle, and smiles at her. “-stop apologising. Not your fault.”

“I- fuck-” She tips her cheek into one of his hands and sinks into his embrace. She closes her eyes and the breath she takes is deep and rattling. “Dinner was great,” she whispers and they’re both grinning at the sudden burst of compliment she utters.

“My mom’s recipe.”

“Yeah? I’ll have to thank her someday.”

His smile is blissful. “You want to meet her?”

Her head tilts back as she laughs, like it’s the most ridiculous thing in the world. “I need to meet the woman who raised such a wonderful human being. She must be pretty great.” She can’t help the yawn that crawls out of her mouth; she tries to smother it with her hands.

“You need to sleep.”

“Oh, pfft, I’m fine.” She brushes off his concern.

He raises his eyebrows and smirks. “Don’t make me call your mom.”

“Is that a threat?”

“As an FBI agent, I’m required to say no because threatening civilians is frowned upon.”

Coraline scoffs and rolls her eyes, and finally surrenders to Marcus’ suggestion. “Fine.”

Marcus trails her when she wanders into her bedroom. She sets herself down on the edge of her comforter and her shoulders slump again, sinking into herself. He can see that she’s exhausted, tears tearing away at the last saps of her energy, and the shower she’d had does nothing to lessen the puffiness that has settled beneath her eyes. The flush that decorates her cheeks whenever she’s embarrassed paints her eyes, now.

“I’m sorry again,” she whispers, quiet.

“Goodnight, Sunshine.” He turns to leave, feet stuttering across the floor and he pauses the moment she calls out for him again. It’s quiet, but in the silence of her apartment, he can’t help but hear her welcoming voice.

“Marcus-” Her voice is thick in her throat and she struggles to find her words. They seem to die in her throat. “-will you stay?” She manages to ask, finally.

He nods, smooths back her dishevelled hair from her face and leans down to kiss her forehead, a sweet and simple gesture that she appreciates beyond belief. “I am. I’ll be on the couch if you need me.”

“No. Marcus.” She reaches for him. His arms, his wrist, his fingers. She finds purchase at his fingers and entwines the digits together. She’s peering up at him through her lashes, looking at him with expectation. “I mean- will you stay, please? Here- I need you here-” Coraline’s voice is small and quiet, timid and unsure. It’s a request that seems to terrify her, but all she wants is him to be here and to hold her, and to make her feel like things might actually be okay, even if right now she’s struggling to see how anything positive could come out of her dad - the first person to ever make her believe she could do anything she set her heart on - likely hating her, right now.

“Please don’t leave me,” she whispers as she presses her and Marcus’ clasped hands against her cheek. He feels the gentle curve of her nose brush against the inside of his wrist when she nuzzles herself closer into his touch. “Please.”

He moves to unlace their fingers and her hand drops into her lap. She’s about ready to cry, convinced that - after hearing her father’s reaction to their agreement - he’d been scared away, well and truly. She can feel the tears burning behind her eyes, threatening to spill over her lashes and down her face, and she’s sure she’d look utterly pathetic, with hot tears carving a scorching path down her cheeks. But his hand finds her cheek again, soft and tender and without the obstruction of her hand, this time. Brown eyes gaze down at her and warm her soul. His thumb brushes delicate over her cheekbone; she only realises she’s crying, then, when the rough pad of his thumb swipes wet across her skin.

“I could never leave you.” His voice is low, smooth like honey. He leans down again, to press the most fleeting of kisses to her forehead, before he’s holding her close. Marcus lays her down beside him, chests pressed firm together. He can feel each shaky breath she exhales as her hands bunch into his shirt. She tugs him closer, somehow.

Coraline tilts her head up towards him. “Thank you,” she whispers, unbunching one fist from his shirt to reach up for this cheek, thumb brushing over his cheekbone. They spend a moment gazing at each other; merely a heartbeat that seems to stretch on for a lifetime. But, in reality, it doesn’t last long before she ducks her head again, presses her cheek against the soft cotton of his shirt - surely terribly uncomfortable to sleep in, though, at least he doesn’t have his tie on - and thanks God that he’s here, holding her so close and so gently. She’s not sure she could deal with this alone, without him here to hold her. She feels the lingering couple of kisses that he leaves against the top of her head.

Her breathing evens out and she settles comfortable against him, and her dreams have taken over before she can hear the ‘I love you’ that he can’t contain any longer. He’s never said that out loud, never even admitted to himself that maybe that’s how he feels. And he knows he’s in too deep, deeper than he ever thought he would be again, deeper than he ever thought he’d let himself get again, and he reconciles his feelings as he lets sleep and the gentle tangle of her limbs around his consume him.

#marcus pike x female character #marcus pike x original character #marcus pike x fem!oc #marcus pike x oc #marcus pike x original female character #marcus pike x female reader #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike #the mentalist #coraline meyer #original character #oc #pedro pascal x oc #pedro pascal x reader

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members-of-the-guild · 3 years

Text

Character Bio and rules are below the line

You can call me Shadow. i’m a 28yo male that hasn’t rped in years. Last time i did was i think 3 maybe 4 years ago so i am plenty rusty. I know this doesn’t say a lot about me but if there’s anything you’d like to know, just ask.

About Karisa

Name: Karisa

Race: Tiefling: A Humanoid people descended from humans who made pacts or crossbred with demons.

Age: 18

Height: 6'3"

Hair color: black

Occupation: Golemancer, Adventurer, occasional Blacksmith

Appearance: As a tiefling, Karisa has several traits that distinguishes her from Humans. She has Lavender colored skin, ice blue eyes, two horns, pointed ears, and a 4 foot long tail.

Personality: When it comes to enemies, Karisa can be downright ruthless. if she hates them bad enough, she will leave an enemy broken but alive to let them try again. She swears a LOT around everyone no matter who they are with the exception of children and has a habit of making enemies through her mannerisms. She’s bad enough with her words that there have been jokes made about weaponizing her lexicon and isn’t afraid to cuss out friends! BUT if you can take her words with a grain of salt and actually befriend her, then no matter what she says to you, she will protect you with her life. In her words, “You may be a cunt, but you’re MY cunt. And no one FUCKS with my cunt!”

Background:

Karisa was born on a small farm and raised by her parents until she reached the age of 8 when they passed away. Since then she would delve into golemancy as a way to cope, keeping her hands busy and moving foreword as best as she can. This is around the time she found the large crystal that would become Grom’s core. At the age of 10, she made her way to the city with her golem Grom, who was wood at the time, to try and become an adventurer. There she met the Dwarf Bormi who gave her a place to stay and taught her in the ways of the blacksmith.

Modern Verse (Hazbin Verse rewrite):

Karisa is Tiefling who was born into an organization known as The Adventurer’s Guild. The purpose of this organization is to deal with supernatural threats to society as a whole by hunting down creatures, artifacts, books, and other things that could pose a danger. If it can’t be recruited, it is to be either destroyed or relocated. People of course know about them but there is a general distrust of the organization due to their habit of employing non-humans and the Guild’s use of magic.

When it comes to the forces of Heaven and Hell, the Guild was able to get their hands on a blueprint for portal technology. The portal they have doesn’t always work and sometimes accesses realms other than Heaven or Hell. This can have a tendency to get adventurers stuck in realms outside of earth.

Skills-

Golemancy: Throughout her life, Karisa has made a variety of golems. These golems can me made from just about any solid material if given enough time. Golems made from metal, stone, wood, and even flesh are within her area of expertise. Her favorite golem is an 8 foot tall minotaur automaton she named Grom.

Cooking: Karisa LOVES to cook. She’s always experimenting with different dishes and creating a few of her own.

Basic Martial Arts: Since she turned 13, Karisa has trained with a quarterstaff and dagger so that if her golems failed, she could still take care of herself.

Magic: In addition to Golemancy, she has a small arsenal of spells at her disposal.

Fire Spells: All Tieflings are capable of fire magic. Fireball, Burning Hands, and Firewall to name a few. Using fire helps her a lot if she has to weld parts together on a golem.

Lightning Spells: Karisa can perform rudimentary lightning spells but this mostly equates to coating her hand in electricity to use. The strength of this can range from the power of a normal stun gun to enough power to jumpstart a city’s electrical grid.

3D Movement: This is a form of wind magic that allows her to “kick” the air. by doing this, Karisa can give off the impression that she is flying. This does not mean she stays in the air, only that she can move in it. she usually only uses this to get over walls or cliffs or maybe to get into a tree.

Empathy Link: This is something she originally learned in order to better deal with golems in order to find out what their orders are. it can be used on other creatures and objects to get a kind of idea of either how they are feeling or how they are used. She MUST make contact with the palm of her hand for this to work.

Golem Creation: As a golemancer, Karisa carries a number of golem cores on her at all times. These cores can often be infused into whatever matter she chooses to create a quick golem in the field. These golems aren’t as effective as one she has time to prepare but they get the job done. Golem cores are also extremely volatile! Damaging a core will cause any magic in it to go haywire and explode in relation to the core’s size. This makes golems and their cores effective bombs if she needs to!

Golem Override: This is a skill that allows Karisa to manually control her golems and see through their eyes. HOWEVER this is only a last resort because it leaves her immobile and defenseless.

Please send Karisa questions and asks either from yourself or your characters! i will fill this out as i go!

Rules

1: i am all for fight scenes and such but please do not god-mod. meaning do not assume what happens to my character. (EX: “My character fires a gun and hits your character in the shoulder.” or “Your character tried to dodge but my character cuts off their arm before they can.”) In my responses, i’ve taken to rolling a dice to determine whether or not my character gets hit and how badly she gets hit. I do not mind my character dying in a particular thread so long as it is discussed at length beforehand and is necessary for the development of the plot. communication is key for stuff like this.

2: Don’t send hate. I don’t mind criticizing because it helps me reflect on how i’m doing. Hate is just a dick move though.

3: I reserve the right to choose whether or not i rp or answer an ask. There will be times that i don’t have the inspiration or motivation to continue it or there is not enough for me to go on. An example of this would be if i responded to an rp and the response i get back is “Character ducks.” or something as equally short.

4: I don’t mind reminders but i DO mind spamming. I will mostly be rping either on the weekends or some afternoons when i can get up the motivation. DO NOT spam me reminders every day or every other day. I have a 5 month old son and a job that has me working monday to thursday with the occasional friday up to 12 hours a day. Those come first.

5: You will see a lot of stuff on here that i will do my best to tag from gore to n//s//f//w// threads. If there is anything in particular you would like me to tag when it shows up, please let me know! Anything truly spicy will placed uner a read more and tagged as “Read at your own Risk!::NSFPC” (nsfpc stands for not safe for public consumption.

6: While i accept starters, memes, questions and comments through asks, starters and starter memes WILL be turned into a post to start a thread. I will not rp through constant asks because this can lead to more dash clutter than the post will. That being said, i will trim the post before it gets too long and will try to have any appropriate tags on it.

7: THERE WILL BE LOTS AND LOTS OF SWEARING! Enough that i will not be tagging it because it is everywhere! I will not tone down her swearing except around child muses because this is part of her character and i ask that you please understand.

8: When it comes to shipping, Karisa will make things fairly clear on whether or not she wants to be with your character. I love shipping but i also know that not everyone will ship their characters with Karisa and that's perfectly fine! Karisa WILL flirt and get touchy with people she's interested in but if the mun or character they are controlling doesn't want that, TELL HER! Not me. HER. Have your character reject her advances, tell her "no" or even smack the shit out of her if she gets too handsy! I will not be upset and i will completely understand! A lot of people plan ships out and tell others there has to be chemistry, but as I'm thinking about it, im going to be removing that little section from my rules. Why? Because failed ships have the potential to create drama, angst, and even enemies if done properly! If she comes onto a character and it makes you uncomfortable or you're just not interested, EXPRESS IT THROUGH YOUR CHARACTER! The same will apply to her! The only time i will have any sort of problem is if she says no, gets into a fight, and you try to godmod it to your liking or try to guilt ME about it. My character makes up her own mind about how to do things just like yours.

I may add more rules as time goes on but it’s pretty straightforward. Don’t be afraid to come and talk to me! I’m pretty open about things and i would love to see you around! Come and join me on discord for more Mun stuff! Just make sure you edit your name to match your tumblr url so i know who you are please! https://discord.gg/6ftZuSP8XH

#Rules #About Karisa #About Me #decided to do this because the app doesn't show all of the pages

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mythologyfolklore · 3 years

Text

Ares and Athena through the years - Ch. 23

Chapter twenty-three: A lesson for Athena

Athena's mind was reeling with questions.

Why was her father sending her to Ares' office of all places?

So many possibilities went through her head, one more absurd than the other.

When she arrived at her destination and looked inside, the office was – apart from the stacks of paperwork – minimalistic and surprisingly clean and tidy.

Ares was working through piles of papers (probably letters), signing some and stamping others.

Athena knocked at the door frame and he looked up.

“Oh hey, Daddy's Owl”, he greeted her, then returned his attention to his paper work.

For a few seconds she was agitated both at the nickname and at being ignored, but then he looked up again and frowned. “Whatcha waitin' for? Sit down. Or ya wanna stand there all day?”

Athena sighed (mostly at his way of talking) and sat opposite him.

“Why am I here?”, she asked.

Ares stamped another paper (because Athena could read upside down, she could tell, that it was a “DENIED”-stamp) and finally focussed on her.

“Okay”, he said, “So I petitioned Zeus and grandaunt Thémis to be allowed to show ya some of my work. To make sure, that bullshit like with the Romans won't happen again.”

“Why is it just some of your work?”, Athena asked. She couldn't help but be curious about this kind of work, which was so different from what she knew about Ares, and this didn't seem to suit him at all.

“Right, I'll explain.”

“This sounds really wrong”, she muttered, making him snicker.

“Eh, don't worry, Daddy's Owl. You'll live. So this is my paperwork for the day. It's sorted into several piles.”

He pointed at the stacks and elaborated: “The one in front of me is the work I still gotta do. The rest is stuff I've already finished or which isn't my responsibility. The three piles on the right are my business. On the left is stuff for the other gods that somehow ended up with me, but isn't my responsibility. I'll sort it into folders and later Hermes will come to pick 'em up and distribute them. Though when you an' I are done here, you can take yer own folder with ya.”

“And what is in that wooden box?”, Athena asked curiously and pointed at a red box, which was also on Ares' right side.

“That's where I put the confidential and/or really important stuff. Anyway, I'll start by showin' ya, where everything is. Follow my lead.”

“This feels even more wrong than 'I'll explain'.”

Ares cackled.

“Awww, it's nothin', Daddy's Owl!”, he teased and ruffed her head (Athena resisted the urge to break his hand). “Once you've got it all, I'm sure it won't last! Anyway …”

He opened a side door and gestured for her to go inside: “Ladies first.”

Athena smiled lopsidedly and entered the other room.

It was dark, but when Ares turned the lights on, there were shelves filled with files and crystals.

“The newest stuff is here in the front”, Ares started and knocked at the shelf to his left. “The latest prayers to Zeus. This is stuff that ain't top priority, but too important not to pass on to him. I always do that in the mornin', so these here are pretty new. Unless they're really urgent, I keep them here till next day. Or if I can, I answer them myself.”

Athena frowned. “You're allowed to do that?”

Ares shrugged: “Sure. As long as it ain't too major, Zeus doesn't mind. Actually, he likes havin' as little paperwork as possible.”

Athena rolled her eyes, recalling how eager Zeus had been to delegate his paperwork onto her, when Ares had gone for his world journey.

The red-eyed war god went on: “Anyway, the shelves on the right hold the mail actually directed to me. Except for the five in the back, they hold the stuff directed to grandaunt Thémis. But she always gets her mail directly, so this is work she's already taken care of. Obviously only the stuff important enough to be kept. Once a month she, Zeus and I sit together and sort out the spam. Stuff that isn't relevant and worth keeping anymore gets shredded. Otherwise everything will get cramped and cluttered and we don't need that.”

Athena nodded in acknowledgement. That was sensible so far.

Ares sighed: “Yeah, that's all in here you had to see. Back into my office.”

“Wait, what about that one over there?”

She pointed at a closet at the back of the room that was covered in locks and chains.

Whatever was in it was probably top secret, but maybe her half-brother would at least give her a hint as to what it concealed …

“You know my answer, Daddy's Owl. Now don't look so disappointed”, Ares added at seeing his half-sister's expression. “Did you seriously expect me to tell ya what's inside a locked closet? Anyway, let's go back. We got a few more things to talk about, you an' me.”

They returned to Ares' office.

In the meantime the unfinished stack on his desk had been doubled and he groaned at the sight.

“I was almost done for the morning!”, he lamented, while Athena snickered.

Her half-brother gave her a killer stare, before opening one of the drawers and picking out a few papyrus scrolls.

“These will interest ya”, he remarked and unrolled them.

Athena bent over the papyri, read them and frowned. “But … these are my letters to the Roman gods.”

“Copies of them”, Ares corrected. “They wouldn't give me the actual letters. But I didconvince them to give me these copies.”

“How and why?”

“How – ya don't wanna know. Why – because I wanted to see what exactly pissed them off about your letters. And now that I've read them, it's high time we discuss that out of character diplomatic blunder of yours.”

Athena clenched her teeth.

Why, why did Ares have to bring that up! That cursed incident that still haunted her mind and drove her to the brink of madness, whenever she thought about it too hard. The utter humiliation of making a grievous mistake and it getting fixed by … him.Not Hermes, not Apollon or Zeus, or even Poseidon, no, of all the gods dwelling on Olympos, it just had had to be-

“… Uh, Athena? Hey! Hellooo! Earth to Pallas Athena! Oi, Daddy's Owl! Snap out of it!”

She jumped, when Ares snapped his fingers in front of her face.

The god of terrible war was folding his arms and looking at her, like she had a mental problem.

“See? This is why we gotta talk about it. Because you've been butthurt about this for twenty Olympian Years and it's getting freaky! Aren't you supposed to be more wise and rational than this? Then again, a bit more than five mortal centuries ago you and my mother decided that a perfectly fine city had to fall, because one random prince didn't pick ya to be beauty queen.”

“Shut. Up.”

Thankfully, he got the hint and stopped talking.

Ares observed each tiny shift in Athena's facial expressions, as he waited for her to calm down.

This situation was even worse than he had thought.

Of course he had sensed the anger boiling inside her, the sombre frown that always indicated when she was thinking about that day. He was the god of rage, after all.

But he hadn't expected it to still be that hard for her!

For a moment he considered telling her to talk it out with Psykhe, but he didn't feel like getting disembowelled.

Only when he was sure, that it was safe, did he unroll one papyrus and sigh: “Alright, Athena. We're gonna do this your way. Namely, go over the whole thing, analyse it and figure out what went wrong. Whatcha say?”

Athena stared. “Alright, who the Tartaros are you and what have you done to my half-brother Ares?”

At that he couldn't help but cackle: “Sorry, Daddy's Owl, it's still me! Your big brother Ares, Destroyer of Men, Bearer of the Bronze Shield, Stormer of Cities, insatiable in war- why are you laughing?!”

(He was still proud of himself for breaking the ice.)

By the time they were done, Athena felt like a huge weight was off her shoulders.

For such a long time she had felt burdened by the trouble she herself had caused for her entire family, just because of a social ineptitude she hadn't been aware of.

Now she was able to laugh at herself for how silly that had been.

And also at the Roman gods for being offended by irrelevant things like the question of how different their culture was to that of the Etruscan gods, or the Hellenic cultures.

But Athena had learned her lesson: next time Ares wasn't there and Zeus was too lazy, she would just let him delegate the foreign correspondence to Hermes and observe the god of diplomacy at work. He was more familiar with those foreigners anyway.

As she left her half-brother's office with her own paperwork, she considered: Maybe I'll travel around the world one day too. Clearly it did Ares a world of good, so why shouldn't it to me? Of course, that'll have to wait, until there isn't much to do for me around here-

Her process of thought was interrupted, when Ares dashed past her and right towards their father's office.

She just had time to wonder what had happened, before the commanding voice of Zeus rang through the halls:

“DEITIES OF ALL HELLAS, ATTENTION! FOR URGENT REASONS YOUR PRESENCE IS REQUESTED IN THE OLYMPIAN ASSEMBLY HALL IMMEDIATELY!”

#greek mythology #ares #athena

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confessionsofa-roleplayer · 3 years

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I'm friends and mutuals with some of my writing partners on my main/personal blog, and to not clutter the rp dash or try to tame the obvious 'favoritism' and excitement we have about our dynamics, we tag and shared head canons on our personals. Stuff I wasn't quite sure about but wanted to work out, like headcanons that were either very basic or unfinished, I'd share on my personal and tag my friend. This is all explaining how my excitement and having fun rping intrigued another friend. At first, I was like awesome yay! Another friend and writing partner!

But what could have been a fun shared hobby turned sour fast.

See, I've been rping since I was 16. I've been more than once around the block. I've learned via others and just pure experience about how it goes. I've put in the work to find partners and have had a variety of results. I know what it's like to pick up a variety of muses, canon and oc, and I know that a key is patience...it's one of the hardest things because you do want that immediate fun, but clicking with other writers isn't always so easy.

When they started, they also joined in the fandom that has been my obsession for the last couple of years. The fanbase, like in a lot of cases, and easily differ from totally amazing people to....really toxic people who just love to yell.

Another thing about the rpc other than having patience and doing some of the work, if that you kind of HAVE to currate your internet experience if you want to enjoy yourself. They....did not. They easily ran into canon purist. They seemed to almost be stalking my blog. Commenting on nearly every thread, every ask I got. Every person I interacted with they would follow and try to interact with. Which I wasn't opposed to if it read more as them being a roleplayer and seeking out other rpers of this fandom but they came out more as me sort of being their guide and therefore responsible for their experience. Which they got fed up quickly because the ship dynamics for them didn't happen how they wanted or how they saw me have. They would bug me constantly and daily about replying or when I was thinking of replying, and if that wasn't enough of reason that made me not want to reply, when I did reply they couldn't let go of a typo. They knew what I meant, they would drop into my inbox telling me 'if I wanted to fix it' but really meant, go fix it so I can reply. If I moved the thread too fast, in my in box about how we haven't planned that far ahead. I felt like I was being graded. Both characters we played go through a lot in canon. Mine was an obvious favorite of he writers so his things were more explored, so I work hard of having a balance of mentioning my muse's issues without making him seem like a downer and keep other people interested in rping with me and my muse. I love the other character and would have loved to explore things that canon didn't seem to give two shits about if it wasn't important to 'the plot' but when it feels like they're constantly making their muse the victim and taking out their hate for the writer's decision on my muse where all the threads are just angst and guilt....is it any surprise I took a break from that muse? And apparently with me taking a break, no one else wants to rp with them? They claimed to love rping but if I wasn't there to offer choices of other rp partners they can't find other people?

They've quit but I always feel like they give me the stink eye whenever I share anything about rping or that fandom, which I had to work through for months to feel not guilty about loving. And now I hate being the person who introduced people to things because I feel like if they have a bad falling out it's my fault...even though I know that I'm not responsible for another adult's inability to currate their internet experience.

#general #confessions

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askthebunker · 4 years

Text

A Temporary Goodbye

Adam learns of the past between the Winchesters (specifically Dean) and Jack. Following this, he makes some decisions. But Jack has he’d something to say first.

“How would you feel about going to school eventually? Maybe making some friends?” Adam tried as they sat at the kitchen table one night. He hadn’t figured a way to bring this up to Jack yet, despite talking it over several times with Michael now; what they planned to do after.

“Oh,” Jack said, putting his pencil down and looking up at Adam, confusion on his face, “Do you not like teaching me?”

“Of course I do, buddy,” Adam smiled at him weakly, “I’m just not the most qualified person in the world and you need to hang around some kids too. You can’t be trapped in a bunker the rest of your life.”

“It could be worse,” Jack said simply with a shrug.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, I was trapped in a box once,” Jack shrugged, “I have my own room and you and Uncle Michael helped me decorate it, so I really like it here, most of the time, when everyone isn’t fighting...” he trailed off.

“You were...” Adam trailed off, mulling over his words, “Jack, I’m a little confused, buddy, what exactly happened?”

“I was being manipulated, but we were worried that I was going to hurt someone else o-or myself, so I was put in the box,” he explained.

“What box are you talking about, Jack?” Adam asked.

“A Ma'lak box,” Jack said simply, going to go back to his work, but Adam grabbed his wrist before he could.

“Who put you in a Ma’lak box, Jack?” Adam demanded.

Jack looked at him curiously, “Sam and Dean. But don’t worry, it couldn’t hold me.”

Adam let go of his wrist and nodded slowly, “Okay. Hey, do me a favor and stay right here. Just work on this book, I need to go do something real quick, okay?” he asked, his eyes stinging a little now.

“Okay,” Jack said, still looking a little confused. He studied Adam, “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah...yeah, buddy, I’m fine,” Adam nodded, getting up quickly, “I just need to take care of something with Uncle Mike.”

Jack nodded, going back to his book.

And Adam dashed out of the room, tears finally spilling over.

...

“Adam, be careful!” Michael said quickly, stepping away from a glowing orb in their room.

“We need to leave,” Adam said immediately, going over to the closet and grabbing a bag, “Right now.”

“What is going on?” Michael asked, “We cannot move now. The house is not ready and neither is-”

“They locked him in a Ma’lak box,” Adam choked out, “They locked a two year-old in a Ma’lak box, Michael.”

Michael stared at him for a moment. He walked over and grabbed his hands to stop him, “Tell me.”

Adam shook his head, tears still going down his face, “I can’t. Jack can though.”

“Pack if this is what you wish to do. I am going to speak with Jack,” Michael kissed his forehead softly before disappearing from the room, then reappearing in the kitchen.

“Hi, Uncle Michael,” Jack smiled when he appeared.

“Hello, Jack,” Michael said, sitting down across from him, “I was just speaking with Adam. Would you mind if I take a look at your memories?”

“You can do that?” Jack asked.

“I can do a lot of things,” Michael smiled softly, “I won’t if you don’t want me to, I just have some questions that would be better answered by your memories.”

Jack stared at him for a moment before shutting the book then nodding, “Yes, that would be okay. I trust you.”

Michael nodded before pressing his fingers to his temple, flashing through the last three years in Jack’s memories. Michael loved Adam more than he would ever love another, but he knew emotions clouded his judgement sometimes, especially when it came to his brothers. It would be best to get answers from the source, which was Jack’s memories. Jack’s memories couldn’t talk his way around defending people, which he had a tendency to do.

Michael swallowed when all the flashes of Jack hurting people bubbled to the surface.

Mostly accidents, he noted to himself.

Flashes of his earliest memories, of being shot at then came, then another of Dean aiming a gun at him in the graveyard.

Dean saying he’d kill him.

Calling him the devil.

Jack hurting himself.

His family, his nephew, hurting himself, because he didn’t believe he was worth anything.

“Oh, Jack,” Michael said softly, pulling his hand away, tears in his eyes as well.

Jack swallowed, “I take it that was a bad answer?”

“No,” Michael smiled at him, “It was just the right answer. You did very well,” he swallowed, “Jack, this wouldn’t be forever, but how would you like to stay with Adam and I for a while?”

“Your room seems very cluttered with the neph-” Jack started.

“No,” Michael corrected him firmly, “And we’ll speak about that at another time, I will answer any questions you have. But Adam and I have decided to leave the bunker and help from afar. How would you feel about coming with us?”

“But...” Jack trailed off, “My family is here.”

“Yes, they are,” Michael said, “And you can see them anytime you want. But I am saying this to you, as someone who loves and cares for you, I need you to come with us and get out of here, Jack.”

Jack stared at him, “Uncle Michael-”

“What’s going on?” Gabriel asked as he walked into the kitchen.

“Nothing,” Michael stood up, storming out of the room.

Jack smiled at Gabriel, “Hello!” he cheerfully greeted him.

...

Michael slowly put the glowing orb down into a box, then raised his hand and sealed it with a sigil, before putting it in the suitcase with the rest of their things.

“Will it be okay?” Adam asked.

“Yes,” Michael said simply, “Do you have everything?”

Adam nodded, “I know this is sudden-”

“I looked at Jack’s memories,” Michael said, waving his hand and most of their things disappeared, besides the suitcase and Adam’s backpack, “It’s worse than he told you. I’ve asked him to leave with us tonight, we don’t have time to spare. I will not stay in this bunker any longer, nor will you, and nor will my nephew.”

Adam nodded slowly, grabbing his backpack and the suitcase, then grabbing Michael’s hand with his free one, “Let’s go then.”

...

“Hey, hey, hey, where are you two going?” Sam asked, looking up when he saw Michael and Adam walking downstairs.

“Out,” Adam snapped, going to brush by him.

“With all your stuff?” Dean asked.

Adam tensed, squeezing Michael’s hand for a moment before dropping his suitcase and stalking up to to Dean in his personal space, “You are the worst human being I have ever met in my entire life.”

Dean looked taken aback, “What-”

“Jack is three years-old. He turned three years-old last month. You locked him in a Ma’lak box and have told him that you wanted him dead. You said this to a three year-old,” Adam said slowly, “I hate you. I have never hated a relative as much as I hate you during this moment. This isn’t about what you did to me. This is about you hurting my nephew again and again and again in the three years he’s been alive.”

“Adam, it’s not like that-” Sam started.

“We are leaving,” Adam said, “And Jack is coming with us. If you have a problem with that, we can talk about it later,” he snapped, going to turn around.

“He’s not going anywhere with you,” Dean said immediately, grabbing his arm, “You guys are supposed to stay here and help us. End of the world, remember?”

“Go fuck yourself, figure it out on your own. I’m not staying under the same roof as you until you get some more fucking help,” Adam glared at him, “And let go of my arm.”

“Adam-” Dean started.

Michael shoved Dean back before pressing his hand against his forehead, showing him all of the memories Jack had shown him earlier.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Sam yelled, practically pulling his brother back from Michael, “You guys, stop it! Take a breather-”

“What is going on?” Castiel asked, appearing into the room. His eyes fell on the suitcase and they went wide, “What the hell is that?”

“A suitcase and we’re leaving,” Adam said immediately, “You’ll get our forwarding address, feel free to drop by whenever you want to see Jack.”

“Jack chose me as his guardian,” Cas said immediately.

“Then don’t let Dean fucking abuse him,” Adam snapped, “Be a better guardian and don’t let that piece of shit near him until he gets some help and apologizes and makes it up to Jack-”

“Uh...guys?” Gabriel asked suddenly, standing in the doorway with Jack.

Jack cleared his throat, “Hello,” he said softly, “I really...I do not need you speaking for me. I am perfectly capable.”

Adam went silent, staring at him, before stepping back to stand beside Michael.

Jack walked over to the group, smiling weakly, “I know I am three years-old, trust me, but...I made myself this age because the world was too dangerous. I don’t have the mental capacity of a three year-old and I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t act like I do,” he cleared his throat, “I love my family. Everyone. I am destined to be with my father and my father is Castiel.”

Cas smiled at him.

“But...I recently learned that some behaviors are wrong,” Jack explained, “And...I don’t think I have been treated...right,” he said, thinking about the words, “I know that our situation is far from normal, but I am still a teenager and some of the things that have happened...” he trailed off, shaking his head, “Everyone is in the wrong with what has happened. No one is fully to blame. Dean’s attitude towards me is warranted, though sometimes unfair and...too much for me, as a teenager.”

“Jack...” Dean trailed off.

“I love you,” Jack told him firmly, “I do. I know you love me and I know you are my family. But I don’t like how you’ve treated me over the years and it’s messed me up pretty badly. I think I am going to see the therapist that you are all seeing, if that would be okay.”

“Yeah, buddy,” Sam said immediately, “That’s completely okay.”

“And I am more than willing to help with anything you need to take down Chuck,” Jack explained, “But I think that it would be best for a while if I went with Uncle Michael.”

They all stayed silent.

“This isn’t me saying I never want to see you again, I want to visit, and I want you to visit me,” Jack explained, “You are my family, but so are they. I think that until we all get the help in dealing with things in a proper way, that I should stay with them. Would that be okay?”

Everyone continued to stare.

“Yes, of course,” Cas cleared his throat, finally speaking up. He smiled weakly, “I am very proud of you, Jack...and you will always have a place here, know that.”

Jack nodded, smiling weakly, “Things have been wrong...but we will all find our way back together to be a family again soon with the proper amount of help,” he looked over at Adam and Michael, “If the offer still stands, I would very much like to stay with the two of you for a while. I will not stop visiting my family here though.”

“Of course,” Michael said, “And we’ll be here to help, every step of the way. We just cannot stay here.”

Dean stared at Adam and Adam stared back, the younger’s eyes shining with tears.

“Nothing’s gonna fix this, is it?” Dean asked, gesturing between them.

“No,” Adam shook his head, “Not anything that I can think of.”

Dean nodded slowly, “Well...safe travels,” he said, walking out of the room.

“Dean-” Cas sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Jack, we will help you pack your things, whatever you want to stay here can stay in your room.”

“Thank you, but Uncle Michael took care of my things,” Jack explained, smiling at his uncle, “I will let you know when we have arrived at our destination safely. And everyone is going to know where we are staying, not just Castiel,” he added, looking at Adam.

“Whatever you want, buddy,” Adam smiled weakly.

Jack cleared his throat before walking over and hugging Cas tightly, “I love you, dad,” he whispered.

“I love you too, buddy,” Cas hugged him tightly.

“Please inform Dean that I love him and will see him soon,” Jack looked down at his feet awkwardly as he pulled away, before going over and hugging Sam as well, “I love you too.”

Sam hugged him back just as tight, “Doors always open, anytime you want. I love you.”

Jack nodded and pulled away, “Sorry, you get rid of me that easily,” he smiled at Gabriel, “Thank you for talking things over with me. It was very enlightening.”

“Anytime, bud,” Gabriel said, “And anytime you need me, day or night, I’m there if you want to talk. I’m serious, I don’t sleep!” he laughed.

Jack smiled at him before looking back in the doorway that Dean had left in, “I will stop by tomorrow to explain to everyone else what we are doing. It seems rude to leave everyone in the middle of the night, but I want to go to sleep.”

“Let us know when you get...wherever you’re going,” Sam looked at Adam and Michael, “Please.”

Adam nodded, clearing his throat, “Let’s get going. It’s late.”

The three of them disappeared from the room.

Sam collapsed in the chair he’d been sitting in, his head in his hands, and Gabriel immediately came over to comfort him.

“Cas, hey-” Gabriel started, but Cas had already disappeared from the room.

#cutscene;#important developments to the bunker if you wanna read #all characters are still available for questions and that wont change just their location #cw abuse mention #cw self-harm mention #all of these are canon events but it still feels best to tag them for safety #jack is capable of making his own decisions and he has some stuff he needs to say!!#this blog is turning into Dean Goes to Therapy and Gets Some Help after this #everyone gets a therapy session!!!

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ahoyfandoms · 5 years

Text

The Knee In Your Back

Prompt: First night together @risenfrommyimagination

Pairing: Robin Buckley x fem! Reader

Summary: You've been Robin’s girlfriend for a while now but you’ve yet to spend your first night together.

Word Count: 3782

Warnings: swearing

A/N: Robin has me soft, girlfriend Robin has me even softer. My rl hoe and me exchanged prompts and that is what happenend kids.

Feedback or constructive criticism is very welcomed!

More Robin: Drabbles

It wasn’t the fact, that you hadn’t had a sleepover in your life. You’ve had sleepovers with plenty of people.

Ok, maybe not plenty, but…

A simple sleepover was not a reason to be this nervous at all.

You had tried to not pay so much attention to what was coming or rather who was coming over tonight. Even with your headphones on and Our House by Madness fueling you on, you could not shake your anxious feeling.

While putting your stuff away you muttered some words along to the song.

You took a step back, trying to calm down by wiping your sweaty palms on your jeans and looked around for any knick-knacks that still weren’t in their place.

Since you’d spent your free afternoon cleaning your room to make it look presentable there wasn’t much clutter left that needed fixing.

Sure, your laundry basket was still overflowing a little bit, the towers of undone homework and unread books were still silently judging you from your desk but overall it looked clean and cozy.

“Ok, I’ll do some laundry and then I think I can relax.”, you spoke into the silence of your room.

You took off your headphones, slung them around your neck and grabbed a pile of laundry.

Hearing the music change to ABBA, a smile crept across your face. Robin had mocked you once for being obsessed with them. You knew she secretly loved them, too.

After loading up the washing machine and pausing ABBA, you decided you were done and could begin anxiously waiting for Robin to arrive.

“Just gotta put the Walkman away,”, you instructed yourself while following along, „and now I am free.”.

Just a second later, you heard the telephone ring downstairs.

“Oh, Shit!”

You dashed down the stairs, wanting to spare Robin the experience of having to small talk with your mother when she picked up.

In your rush, you forgot about how slippery your carpeted stairs could be and slid down the last couple of stairs.

“Oh, Jesus fuck!”, you exclaimed while the edge of the stairs dug into your bum and back. That would give you two nice bruises probably.

“Hello, Sanders household. How may I help you?”, your mother had already answered the phone while you lay defeated on the stairs.

“Excuse me for just one second.”, she said.

“Honey, no need to bring Jesus into this! Are you ok? It’s for you.”, she called into the hallway, having the speaker covered with her body so that the person on the other side wouldn’t hear your misery.

Angry at your own impatience and still hurt you got up and rubbed your now aching back and bottom.

Goddamnit…

Upon entering the kitchen, your mother shot you a look and held the phone out to you.

“It is for you”, she mouthed at you.

It was her. Please let it be her, you pleaded in your thoughts while taking the speaker and looking at the clock to checking if it could really be Robin.

“This is Y/N.”, you answered.

“So do tell, why did you have to bring Jesus into this?”

The thing was: you could feel her smirk, even though you couldn’t see it.

“Might’ve slipped on the stairs, but also just might be a good catholic girl.”, you almost whispered, not trusting your voice right now.

You anxiously started playing with the telephone cord. Twisting it around your fingers until they were covered.

It was around eight now. Shouldn’t she be off now? Your mother was preparing lunch for your father to take to work tomorrow. She was already in her nightgown and would retire for the night in about half an hour probably.

She worked early shifts at the library on weekends, so she always made sure to get her beauty sleep.

Your father, on the other hand, was working a night shift down at the police station. After the Chief had gone missing, he had to take a lot of his workload.

Robin chuckled.

This made you feel relaxed. It was like she could just wash all the anxiety away with one simple gesture.

“You are a lot of things, but you are not a good catholic girl.”, she said.

You snorted. What was that supposed to mean?

“But anyways. I am calling to tell you to -”, you heard someone complaining in the background, “ – Steve, I am trying to have a conversation here…!”

Then you heard bits and pieces of arguing between Steve and Robin.

“I am sorry, Steve is being his dingus self and wants to close up. Just wanted to let you know I am on my way, babe.”, Robin finished her sentence.

And with that, all your anxiety came back to you. You couldn’t even calm down by playing with the phone cord anymore.

“Alright.”, you managed to get out.

“Breathe, babe. Bye.”

And with that, the phone was silent.

“Who was that, honey?” Your mother asked as you hung up the speaker.

“Robin, she’ll be here in twenty, I think.”, you shot another glance at the clock.

“Alright, you two have fun. There is still a little leftover dinner in the fridge if she wants some.”

Your parents didn’t know the extent of Robin and your relationship. They knew you had Spanish and chemistry together. They thought you were just two girls, being best friends.

You were way past of being best friends though. That had stopped when she kissed you that one night.

The memory of her soft but chapped lips brushing against yours made your heart flutter and your cheeks heat up.

You decided against waiting for Robin in your room and watched some TV to get your mind off her.

It was a soft sound, her hands knocking on your front door. She knew your mother was in bed and probably trying to fall asleep right now.

She had been over at your house plenty of times. But you had yet to spend a night together with each other. As a couple. It felt daring to even think of that word.

It was a constant hiding game, your relationship. No kisses and hand holding out in public. Hugs were ok, but they needed to be quick and unsuspicious.

Sometimes it made you furious that other people could just show their affection out in the open and you two could maybe sneak a kiss in the break room when Steve was feeling nice and you two were feeling adventurous.

Trying to compose yourself, not looking too desperate to see her, you opened the door.

As soon as you saw her hair up in that wild ponytail, she put it in when Keith was being a pain in her ass and asking why he gave Steve that job and where all the hot ladies were.

You smiled at the thought.

One-time poor, shy Keith tried flirting with you. You had politely declined his offer to show you some better movies than what you were planning to rent.

Robin was angry but also so insecure after that.

“Well, what am I going to do? I can’t just kiss you and tell him to back the fuck off.”, she had said almost desperate.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”, you whispered. Robin talking getting you out of your thoughts.

You stood aside, telling her to come in. Robin saved all displays of affection for your bedroom now. You always did that when you visited each other at home.

She quickly got out of her shoes and followed you into your bedroom. It was still weird for you to have a girlfriend. After all that anxiety, you always needed an adjustment period for your body and brain to process that you could share anything with her and just touch her.

Robin didn’t seem to need that adjustment period because as soon as you reached your room upstairs and closed the door, she hugged you from behind. Leaning her head on your shoulder, you could feel her breath against your ear.

You leaned into her a little bit and put your hands on top of hers, feeling the tension slowly fading away.

Softly she spoke: “You know what? Steve might be earning a ‘You Rule’ tally soon.”.

You turned around in her embrace, now facing her, hands clasped behind her neck.

Her hands were on your waist gently caressing you with her thumbs.

Your gaze wandered upon her face. You didn’t dare to look her in the eyes just yet.

You could, however, count her freckles, if you wanted to.

“Really? How did he manage that?”, you asked with a smile.

While you were waiting for an answer you threw all your precautions and anxious feelings out of the window and looked up into Robin's eyes.

She was looking at you the whole time like you had laid down the very ground she was standing on.

You noticed her eyes switching from yours to your mouth. A tentative ask if you were ok if she’d kiss you now.

It was weird for you, kissing her at first. It felt good, yes. But the fact that Robin was kissing you and really wanted to do it still had you feel giddy.

“Robin? What did he do?”, you pressed on, being too scared to initiate the kiss yourself.

You somehow wanted this moment to just last a little bit longer.

Robin’s hands wandered up to cup your face. She was caressing your cheeks.

You felt loved, closing your eyes, exhaling – almost sighing. Robin smelled like fresh linen, citrus and that new shampoo Harrington had recommended her when she complained to you about her hair.

While being in your thoughts you hadn’t really noticed that Robin was about to kiss you.

“Just shut up for a moment.”, she said.

Gently, her lips brushed against your own before she hovered over them again. You could feel her gaze switching between your eyes and lips. She knew you were screaming internally.

She took it slow, for you and your heart's sake.

But you were adjusting pretty well tonight, you were slowly transcending into the stage, where you needed and craved her touch and affection.

Robin had that tell-tale smirk on her face again. It lit up your whole heart.

She closed the distance between you two again, connecting your lips in a now more pressing kiss. Her lips still moved gently against yours, as to not scare you off.

Feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, the butterflies in your stomach set free you started to return the kiss.

Your lips moving softly against hers made it worth all the times you were frustrated that you couldn’t do any of this in public.

Robin’s hands were still holding your face close to her when she ended the kiss. You were both catching your breath.

She looked at you with so much adoration, you weren’t sure how your knees were still holding up.

All those feelings always hit you like a hurricane. It was all so new, being in love and being loved back. Sometimes you felt ashamed of how much you really loved her.

You leaned your head on her shoulder, seeing the pulse steadily on her neck, peppering little kisses around that area.

Her skin was incredibly soft, and that welcoming smell hit you again.

“Mhm, babe. Stop, please.”, she murmured.

You looked at her, her face was flushed.

“What’s up? Care to tell me now what Harrington did?”

“Maybe if you’ll kiss me again.”, she suggested while starting to play with the hem of your shirt.

You rolled your eyes at that, giving her a little shove.

“Excuse you, why do you reject me my love?”, she dramatically let herself fall onto your bed.

“Because you’re being a dingus right now.”, you explained holding out your hands to help her up.

She grabbed your hands and pulled so suddenly that you landed with a small yelp on top of her. Robin reacted quickly though and covered your mouth with her hand.

“Shh, you don’t want to wake up your mum.”, she whispered.

You felt your flush creeping up again, trying to roll off Robin but she wrapped her legs around you. Always one step ahead of you.

“Why don’t you tell me again, who the dingus is here?”, she dared.

“Harrington of course.”, you replied.

“Right answer, good girl.”

“Don’t say that Robin.”, rolling your eyes you finally managed to roll off her.

“Why not? You said it yourself, you’re a good Christian girl.”, she was teasing you. She probably wouldn’t let go of that comment for a while.

“But, back to the problem on hand: there is this girl and she was being all cute and shy around Harrington. Luckily, he choked on his spit today while talking to her. So, I don’t think I’ll be making that tally too soon.”, she explained.

“Well, you know.”, you made a gesture with your hands, “I think he definitely has earned a ‘You rule’ tally for all the times he has been so supportive of us.”

“Come on, you’re being no fun.”, she complained,” Steve deserves to be teased. He is a dingus.”, she went on.

“He is, but he is also your friend. And I appreciate him as such.”, you concluded.

“You’re too sweet.”, she yawned. She must be pretty tired.

“Do you mind if we go straight to bed?”, she asked while starting to play with your hair, lightly combing through it and scratching your scalp in the process.

“My mum has leftovers in the fridge for you, if you want to eat first?”

“That’s very sweet of her. I had a packed lunch and now I just want to get to bed.”

She yawned again as if to prove her statement.

“You just want to cuddle with me, be honest.”, you joked around, propping yourself up on your elbows.

“You know me too well.”, she spoke softly, her gaze never leaving you.

She got up from the bed, grabbed her overnight bag and plopped that down on your bed.

And with the thump of her bag, all your anxiety came back to you once again.

Are you going to get into pajamas in front of each other? Would it be weird? Would it be even weirder if you did this in the bathroom? By yourself?

You stood up, standing awkwardly next to Robin, fumbling with your hands, not sure what to do.

Robin was throwing her pajamas on a side of the bed carelessly; they weren’t even folded neatly. Her overnight bag looked like she just stuffed a bunch of stuff in it this morning.

“I can hear you thinking from over there.”, she called you out, while you chewed on your bottom lip.

She reached out for your fumbling hands, taking them into hers, her thumb lightly grazing over the back of your hand.

“We’ve never done this.”, you whispered, not looking at her but at a little dust bunny, you found on the floor.

“Hey, it’s not like we are going to fuck the whole night. Relax.”, she tried to ease you up with a joke.

You took your hands out of hers. “Jeez Robin, you’re such a romantic.”.

“I know. Why don’t you go change in the bathroom and I’ll change here and then we brush our teeth and I’ll start snoring the second I hit those sheets?”

“I will kick you if you snore!”, you threatened her, wagging a finger at her and walking into your ensuite.

You slid off your clothes, feeling relieved to finally get into your pajamas.

You felt more at ease when she had seen you struggling. Robin always seemed to know what you needed, she was always there to get you out of your head and back into reality.

When you got to your shirt you stopped for a moment. Was Robin going to keep her bra on? You’d never seen each other naked yet, not even while making out.

But sleeping with a bra was the most uncomfortable thing ever…

A soft knock on the door interrupted your train of thoughts.

“Are you ready yet? I’ll fall asleep, take over the whole bed and get cavities if you don’t let me in right now.”, she whined dramatically.

You decided to take off your bra, slip on your shirt and just put an arm around your body, supporting your boobs.

While slipping on your shirt, you could see the purple bruise on the lower end of your back. Those stairs really did a number on you. More like my impatience…

Opening the door, Robin slipped in, toothbrush in hand, wearing the shortest shorts in existence. Scratch that, they weren’t even worth it to be called shorts, she could’ve just been wearing her underwear.

“See something you like, pretty girl?”, she whispered as she stepped into your personal space.

You huffed. Shaking your head and wetting your toothbrush with the toothpaste.

She was beginning to brush her teeth now, smirking and looking at you being flustered. She seemed really pleased with herself.

Your grumbled something.

“What was that?”, she spit out the toothpaste, finishing up. She stepped behind you, embracing you in a hug again.

Her lips trailed soft kisses along where your shirt fell off your shoulder and up your neck.

“Nothin’.”, you lied. You felt yourself getting goosebumps when she kissed the spot behind your ear.

Robin hummed against your skin, your eyes meeting in the mirror when you finished up brushing your teeth too.

Slowly, as if to test the waters, she let go of you. It felt oddly cold not having her wrapped around you.

She walked back into your bedroom, slipping into your bed with such ease as if you did this regularly. Sometimes you asked yourself how she did that: being so careless.

Turning on the lava lamp on your nightstand, you switched the light in your room off. You felt like a stranger in your own bedroom.

It felt good and relaxing to have your girlfriend around, but it also made your anxiety skyrocket into a whole new universe.

“You know, your bed smells really nice.”, Robin hummed as she got comfortable in your bed.

“Hm, that does not sound creepy at all Miss Buckley.”, you said as you slid into your bed, a sigh escaping your mouth.

“Not going to lie, the Harrington’s know their mattresses.”, you told her.

“What? Why do you have to bring the dingus into our pillow talk?”, the soft pink hue of your lava lamp, illuminated her disgusted looking face.

“Ugh, Robin it’s not like that.”

“Enlighten me then, babe.”, her soft voice was barely above a whisper.

“You know I’ve known Steve since I was a baby. Our Parents went to high school together. And when we moved my bedroom, I got a bigger bed and I’ve had a sleepover at Steve’s multiple times you know. So, I just asked him, what kind of mattress he has.”, you explained.

“You had sleepovers with him? In his bed?”, Robin's eyebrows were raised high.

“Yes, our parents always try and make us end up together.”, you shivered at the thought.

Steve wasn’t such a douchebag anymore, that was great, but you’d never thought about him in that way…

Robin swallowed, looking worried. She always licked her lips when she was nervous.

“Guess, I’ll have to disappoint my parents right there…”, you whispered.

This didn’t seem to make her worries go away. She knew you had a relatively good relationship with your parents, yet they didn’t know you preferred women over men.

Robin wasn’t one to talk though, you knew she only ever told Steve and one of her high school friends.

It was one of the rare times where Robin was caught up in her thoughts, spiraling down the route of self-doubt.

She had this worrying wrinkle in between her eyebrows, eyes fixating on a point behind you as if she was able to look right through you.

“Robin?”, you touched her cheek, feeling her eyes now really focusing on you.

“You know, that I’m not going to abandon you? I’ve waited too long to finally call you my girlfriend to let you go…”.

Robin huffed, slightly shaking her head.

“The only thing is,”, she trailed her fingers over your arm now, “you can’t even call me your girlfriend.”

She sounded so defeated; you could feel your chest tightening. It hurt, to see her like that.

“The only thing important to me is, that we know it, you know. And maybe Keith, he is still trying to hit on me.”, you made a disgusted face.

Robin chuckled at that.

“He is relentless. Asking me about you. At one point I will strangle him with some tape.”, she joked.

Robin seemed pleased with her idea, smiling at you and looking so very beautiful.

Shyly you leaned in for another soft kiss. Longing for the touch now, needing reassurance, that this was, in fact, your girlfriend ready to kill a poor clueless man.

Robin broke off the kiss to yawn again.

“Wow, what did Keith do to you?”, you wondered.

“Had me stacking boxes and doing some inventory stuff. It was really boring.”, Robin explained.

“Come here.”, she held her arms out, so that you could cuddle in even closer with her.

Her body felt warm and soft against yours. She still smelled intoxicating, when you nuzzled your head into the crook of her neck.

Robin had slung a leg around your hip, and you thought you could never feel more at ease than this.

The only sounds were some cars passing by, the wind howling softly.

Your lava lamp still illuminated you in the soft pink light. You always left it on, after all, that had happened.

“Goodnight, babe.”, Robin pressed a kiss on top of your hair.

“Mhm, G’night Robin.”, you answered pressing your lips lazily against her pulse point.

She pulled you in closer.

After a while, you could hear her soft, steady breath. Robin always fell asleep like it was nothing. One time she even fell asleep standing up.

You’d never been able to do that. Always struggling to shut up your head and find peace and quiet.

A knee in your back let you wake up rather harshly, groaning you turned around to see who was so rudely waking you up this Saturday.

Robin lay there, her mouth softly opened, a little wet spot of drool on her pillowcase, her right leg pulled up high (the one that just woke you up) and hands tucked under her pillow. She looked so relaxed.

And at this moment, you decided you never wanted to wake up without her anymore.

I am tagging you because you’re either one of my hoes or I thought you’d like this. Please tell me if it wasn’t ok to tag you!

tags: @marvelscoops @badass-robin @sinfulsweetpea @silver-winter-wolf @losermultifandomidiot @robinbuckleyfanfics @robinlikeswomen @bitchinrobin @bullymehargrove @minigranger @upsidedownfics @harringtown @parker-potter

#robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x fem!reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley reader insert #robin buckley fic #robin buckley fanfic #robin buckley imagine #robin from stranger things #robin buckley prompt fill #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic moodboard #stranger things imagine #my writing #steal it and i will steal your soul

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jaspers-levis · 4 years

Text

The New Boy

Happy Pride month! I completely forgot to post this back when I finished, but better late than never, right? Please be kind in regards to my portrayal of the trans experience. I identify as my birth gender, so it was a different experience for me to write as a trans boy. I hope that I got somewhat close to what that experience may be!

Also, no matter who you are, you are deserving of love, respect, safety and happiness. This blog, although twilight themed, is always a safe space. If any of you need someone to talk to, my inbox is always open. Just because I may not know the full experience of what you are going through does not mean I cannot sympathize and offer comfort. We are all human beings on this planet together <3

Reader request by @eatmoarveggies

A new trans boy joins Forks High

“Can’t believe mom’s stupid job landed us in this stupid tiny town,” you muttered to yourself at the stoplight (the only one) on Main Street. Rain lashed at your windshield in an unrelenting stream, perfectly reflecting your mood. Not two weeks ago you’d been laughing it up at a cafe table in the sun on the California coast with your friends, planning a weekend getaway trip the last weekend before school started. Now you were driving as slowly as a snail through the pools of water covering the roadway in your crappy silver toyota, for once glad your mom hadn’t let you get a convertible.

You glanced at the clock, realizing that if you continued at this pace you would be pushing the bell when you arrived at school for your first day, and inched the gas pedal down a notch. Stupid dumb rain. Sighing, you finally made the turn into the Fork’s High school parking lot and pulled into one of the last spots available. You reluctantly shut off the engine and checked your backpack for your school welcome packet. Unfortunately they’d written your birth name on each form, rather than the name you’d chosen for yourself two years ago when you realized you were a boy. Even after all this time, the deliberate refusal to call you by your correct name still rankled.

Annoyed, you ripped your school map out of the packet and slammed the folder shut before hopping out of your car and dashing for the main building. The offensive welcome packet served as a good shield against the downpour and you managed to get to the office with your carefully styled hair still in place. “Hi there, honey,” a generically pretty middle-aged receptionist greeted you. “How can I help you?”

“I’m supposed to register for classes? I’m Y/N, from California,” you told her, setting your stuff down on the counter.

“Hmm…” she clicked industriously at her computer for a few moments. “I’m sorry hon, I recognize the last name but not the first.”

Sighing internally you muttered that it might be under your birth name, not your actual name and she instantly brightened. “Oh! Of course, here we are. Such an interesting name for a young girl. Is it a nickname?”

“No, I actually identify as a male,” you stiffened, resigned to an entire day of misgendering if the rest of the staff and students here at Forks High were as thick as this lady. “Thank you for your help.” You grabbed your schedule out of her hands and made a beeline for the door before she could say anything that was clearly already on the tip of her tongue.

On your way out, you opened the door right into a slim, dark haired girl who immediately dropped all her books and tripped over her own untied shoelace on her way to pick them up. “I’m so sorry!” you apologized, kneeling to help gather her books.

“Hey don’t worry about it!” she said cheerfully with a wry smile, shoving up the sleeves of her plaid shirt. “My mom always says I’m a walking disaster. Edward, my boyfriend, says if there is even the slightest change in elevation I’d fall.”

“I had a friend like that back home,” you return her good natured smile and help her stand. “My name’s Y/N.”

“Cool, I’m Bella,” she shook your hand, not missing a beat. She did eye you curiously but didn’t say another word on it, besides wishing you luck on her way to her first class. Hm. Maybe Forks wouldn’t be as bad as you’d thought…

And you were deeply wrong. Every single teacher called you by your birth name and when you corrected them whispers circulated amongst the class for the better part of the period. At least one person made a pointed remark about your physical appearance within hearing range each class, and one girl openly asked you what you had “down there” in between classes. Things only got worse when you asked if there was a private changing room you could use before gym. The instructor laughed before realizing you were serious and begrudgingly offered you a cluttered storage room next to his office. “I don’t like offering special treatment,” he groused as he unlocked the door. “Don’t mess anything up in here.”

You sighed and changed quickly, emerging to find a group of teenage boys, seniors and juniors mostly, waiting for you. Gritting your teeth at the sharp jump in your pulse, you tried to push through them. One of them caught you and shoved you, hard. “So what are you, really?” their leader asked, scowling. “You can’t seriously be calling yourself a boy, you look like a fucking girl. Or are you one of those gays too?”

“That’s none of your business,” you mutter, trying to get past them again. This time you were thrust against the wall so hard your head knocked against the cinderblocks painfully.

“Like hell it isn’t!” the leader growled in your face, pinning you against the wall. “You just want to get in the boy’s locker room for a sneak peek, is that it? We’ll give you a sneak peek right here!”

You spat in his face in retaliation and he threw you to the floor in anger, where the rest of the boys surrounded you in an instant, ready to beat the shit out of you. Curling into a ball, you sent up a prayer to whatever god was listening that it would be over soon.

After a moment, you uncurled yourself when not a single kick landed. You looked up to see the largest senior boy you’d ever seen standing before you looking scarier than hell as he stood off against your tormentors. A statuesque blonde girl stood next to him, shaking with fury and shooting daggers at the boys. “Don’t ever fucking come near him again,” she spat, taking a step forward.

“What are you gonna do?” the leader sneered, crossing his arms.

“You don’t even want to know, bro,” the enormous boy said, laying a restraining hand on the girl. “Get the fuck out of here before she loses her temper.”

The boys turned and ran at the look on the girl’s face.

“Hey man, you okay?” the large boy turned and reached out a hand to help you up. His skin was shockingly cold for such a large dude… “My name’s Emmett, and this is Rosalie. We heard the commotion and came to see what was going on.”

“I’m Y/N,” you stammer as Rosalie turns her fearsome gaze at you.

“If those boys, or anyone else even so much as LOOK at you funny, you come find me or one of our family. We’ll take care of it,” she said fiercely, her golden eyes frighteningly intense.

Emmet gave Rose a look and sighed. “Y/N… you’re new, right? You met our brother’s girlfriend Bella earlier this morning. Nice to meet you!”

“Nice to meet you too…” you said haltingly, uncertain.

“Ignore Rose; she won’t bite...well, you at least,” Emmett joked, patting you on the shoulder and leading the two of you back to the gymnasium. “But seriously, if anyone is nasty to you again, we’ll help you out. No one should be treated like that!”

“Why are you helping me?” you asked, apprehensive of these beautiful strangers and their generous offer of aid.

“Those guys are all assholes,” Rosalie growled, sending a terrifying glare in their direction across the gym floor that sent them scattering like cockroaches under a light. “I hate them.”

“Well, that, and we don’t like bullies,” Emmett shrugged. “What you have in your pants, who you are or what you look like are your business, not anyone else’s. Who the fuck cares anyways?”

“Way too many people at this school,” you mutter as the gym teacher approached, explaining the activity for the class. You didn’t get a chance to talk more with Rosalie and Emmett during class, but afterwards they invited you to sit at lunch with you and their family. Maybe things really wouldn’t be that bad if you had a couple of supportive friends like the Cullens...

#twilight fan fiction #twilight fanfiction #twilight #Bella Twilight #Emmett McCarty #Emmett Cullen #rosalie lillian hale #rosalie hale

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unikornu · 4 years

Photo

Page 15, Ground Zero

-She will be fine. Just needs a little boost to push the drugs out faster. Gage was watching Mackenzie working after finding Lucy on the floor last night in Fizztop.

- You sure? She looked like a fucking tato hit her in the face when i found her. Gage was siting on a chair next to bed, brushing his rough chin with fingers. She tried not to laugh, hell even smile or Gage would throw her back to the market, literally.

Lucy was slowly waking up, still half asleep and away, mumbling under the nose names Gage couldn’t recognize and turning nervously to the sides.

- I cannot do the injection if she is moving too much. Could you..? McKenzie snapped a syringe and moved to the side.

- Ye, sure. Gage stood up and leaned over the bed, holding Lucy hand firmly by the wrist and stretching it while trying to hold her still with the other one. As needle almost made a contact with the skin she opened her eyes abruptly and almost pushed Gage away..

- Whoaaa! What the fuck?! What is this! She snapped and yelled scaring the shit out of McKenzie as the needle jumped in her hand and managed to do at least two full spins before she managed to catch it back.

- Boss, shut the hell up and stay still for one goddamn second. Gage didn’t jump but his heart rate certainly skipped a beat. - Will ya? He looked at her and raised his eyebrow.

-Oh...yea, sorry. She looked around trying to catch at which point last night she failed to be responsible and threw her hand to the side to get the injection done.

- It will wear off over time but you might still feel a bit...woozy Boss. Porter awaited for McKenzie to leave before starting the conversation.

-Sorry? That’s all? I’m gone for one day and not only find you stabbed like a pig but also wasted? He stood up and looked at her with disappointment.

- Look..it was a hard day and...Lucy moved to the edge and slowly stood up, walking down to the room shortly after.

- You had a hard day?! He interrupted. -Well then i don’t know what i can say about all of them in my case. I would fucking appreciate us finishing this job eventually...with you on the ship, not under it.

- Savoy was here and stabbed me for you goddamn information. She pulled her shirt up and looked under her ribs, running a finger on an almost healed wound. - Maybe if you would show up a bit earlier that wouldn’t happen. She hmphed under her nose walking past him.

- Well..maybe you should depend on your own fucking judgment and brain at times, Boss, if any of it is still left after last night. She looked at him biting her tongue knowing she fucked up but had to vent off one way or another.

- Fine...maybe you are right. Let’s just finish the job. She cut the conversation and turned her back to him, looking over the desk, finding shortly a note from Lizzie that all preparations are done for the last park.

- Boss...look. Gage sighted and approached her back. - I do care about you but if you don’t give a damn about yourself like that and don’t tell me everything, even with the Institute it ain’t gonna work for shit.

Lucy dropped her head and spun to face him. - I know i wasn’t the best...it just how it happened and now there ain’t shit i can do about it. The device and mirelurk queen was the last thing u didn’t know. Almost....She thought as she still skipped the conversation about Harrison.

- And it was a sabotage from Nisha to scare me off or send a message, who the fuck knows. She shrugged and leaned against the desk, tapping her finger against the wood awaiting the judgment from the raider.

- Well...good. So maybe stop that crap since we are again on flat ground eh? He stretched his hand forward to brush her cheek. He couldn’t be angry anymore since he smashed enough stuff on a way to McKenzie and preferred to focus on what needs to be done.

- Ye..good plan. She put her hand over his and squeezed it before pulling it away. - Let’s finish this shit.

- I’m still by your side, Boss. He caught her hand back and pulled it up to kiss it softly and walked away letting her prepare for the trip. Lucy grinned only after he disappeared in hallway.

----

They left the Nuka Town packed with weaponry from Lizzie and avoiding the disciples as much as they could. She nodded at the operator when passing the Parlor as well as to member of the pack patrolling around.

- This is it...last park. Lucy looked over the grenades Lizzie stuffed her with.

- And the signal? Gage caught her by the shoulder as she lost a balance for a second. - You sure you want to go already?

- Yeah, i’m sure. McKenzie said i will be still woozy but..it will pass. She brushed her forehead focusing back on the task at hand. - Signal, yes. I have the flare gun. They know what to look out for, soon.

- Boss, its a big park and right after we will need to still rush back because it will be a bloodbath here. Are you sure you can hand...Lucy interrupted and brushed his hand away from her shoulder.

- I said i’m fine. She snapped and sighted shortly after. - Look...if we delay it any longer it won’t be Savoy this time paying me a visit but Nisha and i’m sure she would rather make me a main town decoration instead of having a dinner.

- Just making sure, Boss. He couldn’t resist to smile a bit of a thought that their plan is actually coming to end and Nisha might be gone for good from the back of his head and so soon.

- Ye..we wouldn’t want to fuck it up, eh? The tension was going away between them as they were walking towards Galaxy park.

------

-That is not a very promising sign. Lucy said as they walked past a pile of dead bodies and some robot junks at the entrance. Gage turned some of them with his rifle revealing a holotape from under one of em.

- Not like any other park was much different, Boss. Maybe that will give us some idea as to what the hell happened. Gage kneeled to grab a tape and threw it towards Lucy. She shoved it right away to listen the last report.

-Star cores? Is that the shit they were running it all on? Gage squinted his eye as she pulled a bright orange chip.

- It’s just the name, i’m sure its like an ordinary small power source or battery of sort. We stumbled upon a few before.

Gage looked from behind the corner inside the park as she was studying the core. -Turrets, robots, its pretty packed there. Killing this shit gonna use all of our ammo.

- Then we will find a way to use less. She opened a pamphlet and turned it over to Nuka Zone description. - We need to get to....star core.

- Well...that ain’t hard, its like right there. Gage pointed towards a tall tower with a round base not so far from there as she joined him in the corner. - The problem are the fucking tin-cans, lots of em. He nodded towards the turrets and eyebots patrolling the place all around.

- Then let’s get there first without dragging too much attention. Lucy pulled a pistol out and rolled the silencer onto it.

-You look focused Boss...you didn’t even try to enter first just to get that idea. He joked knowing how the last approaches of them taking a park weren’t the most...discreet ones.

-Oh, just shut up. She bit her lower lip and crouched low. For some reason this time she was indeed focused. Maybe hitting her head and breaking some veins inside indeed made her just a bit more...reasonable. Or maybe it was a feeling of guilt that eventually caught up with her and some of Harrison’s words.

- So how you wanna do it, Boss? Sneak over there in some bushes like a pre-war thug? She looked up at him not being sure if he is serious considering that she was doing it as well quite often before.

- You know what Gage. She spotted a trail of some bushes to the side along with piles of broken banners. - That is exactly what i’m gonna do. You just wait here...you don’t exactly look very..sneaky. She smirked at him and rolled towards first clutter making sure none of the robots see her.

Gage smirked back as she left and looked out from the corner to cover her in case of any sudden danger. She shot some turrets down and disappeared shortly after making a last dash inside the star core.

-Looks just like puzzle for dummies...let’s see. She pulled a few cores out and carefully placed one in the empty slot next to terminal. She looked over it as it started loading the data.

-Good job, Boss! Lucy jumped as Gage yelled right behind and poked her in the back.

- Jezz, Gage! One of cores she was holding flew from her hand but he caught it swiftly in the air and chuckled at her. - Hah...i might not look sneaky but trust me, i actually can be.

- You really are focused today. No doubt. So...what’s the deal with em..i would rather not touch anything. He looked over console shining and blipping at him with all its colorful buttons making his eye squint.

- Looks like..we will need quite a bit of them to deactivate the defensive system so we won’t avoid some hassle. She scrolled over the terminal giving meanwhile Gage a nice view as she was leaning low at the keyboard.

- How bout..we take a breather first and then get to work? He crossed his arms and didn’t even bother to hide his grin this time. She looked at him and paused for a moment. Thinking how there won’t be much of a time for that later nor any break she went along with his idea. And since they are back to ground zero maybe it was a perfect moment to break the unbalanced motion between them for good this time.

- Ye..let’s take a break first. She pushed herself away from the terminal and gave him a look that only fastened the steps he started taking towards her. Time for a last push.

#fallout 4 #fo4 #nuka world #lucy's diary #lucy feit #porter gage #screenshot #thrax's action poses

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